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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 2 years ago

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DPxDC. Talon Dick. Part 2 of Danny Fenton is a new master of The Court of Owls

~Hail, Emperor, those who are about to die salute you~

Danny was terrified when he got the body of Talon in his morgue. The Court of Owls was notorious for leaving no trace after work. But Talon, a young man only a few years older than him, did not look like a mindless killing machine at all. Of course, the first time he had a couple of stab wounds from his new acquaintance but after numerous assurances that his help would remain their little secret and that he would not inform his superiors that he had fucked up on the mission, Talon began to trust him a little. as one dead boy to another. In a few months, most of the Talons come to him for first aid, and of course he got attached to the guys. After all, Gotham is not Amity Park and without the other dead ones around Phantom felt a little lonely. It was nice to give these poor people a few quiet minutes. Danny’s assistant has warned him many times not to mess with the Court of Owls, but Danny are Phantom and from the first time he met one of them he was planning to lose his temper and beat the boys' bosses to free them.

Fenton was not prepared to lead the Court of Owls. Even if Danny got his education as a villain he never thought he’d work according to his profession. But leave a whole den? nest? of creatures turned into weapons he could not. Of course, the best choice after defeating the leaders of the Court would be to destroy the entire organization. But Danny couldn’t do that.

Talons were killers, means of intimidation, even if not of their own volition. They will be killed (again) or sent to prison for the rest of their lives. Talons needed safety and a good therapist, not all of this. Danny’s scared, and he doesn’t know how to take care of them, but the others won’t do it. People are afraid of everything different. They won’t care that these dead are just victims, they’ll only see monsters. He could be half-human, but now he has to think like a full ghost. Talons are dead like him. And they have been dehumanized, tortured, used. People can be cruel. To do the right thing, he has to protect them.

It was difficult for Danny to identify likes and dislikes of his new friends because they always had the same facial expression and were taught that they had no feelings. Bullshit. Danny’s parents also think ghosts have no emotions, but they just have wrong theories and do not manipulate them to make ghosts think the same. Well, maybe it’s because they don’t think ghosts can think at all, but still! So, Danny know that number three loves strawberry jam, and number five always steals some of his cereal, and number 11 always gets closer to the music column to enjoy the sound. And he also know that the Talons weren’t fully fed in their organization because they definitely have problems with their digestive system, and he is going to fix it. Vlad said that he had trouble taking human food for only a few months after the portal accident, and some of the Talons were dead for years and still use injecting nutrient solutions. When a Dead Man can’t have a couple of spoons of treats, well, that’s a crime.

He needs to find a way to consult with Frostbite and conduct a full-fledged health diagnostics for his 'minions'. And he needs to settle the paperwork so guys have a legitimate reason to live in the Infinite Realms.

~~~~~ Danny: Hey Jazz, I’m in trouble. When can you come to Gotham? This time I don’t mind hearing a little advice.

~~~~~

Even though Dr Fenton smelled like death and blood all the time, the smell was different. And this difference was enough that something dead inside them swore allegiance to this Owl at their will. Not that they had it, of course. Weapons don’t have free will. But at least pretending to be able to choose is nice.

The new Master was weird, but in a good way. Not that this Talon know more about what is good than any other Talon. Ah, Di- Talon had a headache. Anyway, serving him is right. They all feel it..And feelings matter!! Well, they are not supposed to have them too but… looks like the young owl didn’t mind.

Master was not angry at how Talon № 4 frowned when the master had to pull a bullet out of his shoulder, and he missed Talon's sweet laughter when it saw the battle of Signal and Spice King on TV. The only times he raised his voice to them were when they were trying to threaten people near the master. Looks like this owl wanted to instill fear on his own. Strange. Usually there was always an enemy of the court who had to be hunted down and destroyed.

~~~~~

Danny: See, when you kill people, you do not make it easy for me. First, I will need to examine the bodies and write the report of their death. Second, if their souls remain restless, they will become my problem again. No more trying to get the cashier to have a heart attack. He said they ran out of the product I needed, not that he’s cursing my family for the next millennium. No one wants to see any more angry ghosts in Gotham. Me after a 24-hour shift is enough, okay?

Talons were alarmed. So far the master had shown no signs that he might want to completely break one of the weapons. But what if this owl is planning on punishing them for all their mistakes at once when he’s really angry?

Talon is not supposed to show initiative or empathy. But Talon 12, who suffered an injury in the course of a mission with old owls, has not yet recovered. They inadvertently hid it when the leadership changed. 12 has not yet met Doctor Fenton, and they do not know whether the privileges of medical care are retained now when they belong to him. So far, the Master has been rather careless about their movements and a few of them have slipped away for a while to check on a fellow. They didn’t lie if they weren’t asked about another weapon, right? They shouldn’t be punished too severely when the Owl finds out. Talons were hoping that Doctor Fenton, who was not in a hurry to look at the document of the court, would allow them not to write off the damaged thing. № 12 was an old and experienced weapon and could train beginners even if it has only one hand now.

Well, that was the plan. Talons allowed themselves to become too careless. Terrible mistake. Even the Owl that is usually nice to them remains dangerous. They need to find a way to satisfy their young master. Young Owls always have anger issues, not that Talons can judge.

The youngest Talon shared information that he sometimes had flashbacks of a working red bird who always had a murderous expression until he got to the coffee pot fluid. And it's non-Talon past was never afraid of this bird. The chick could always be calmed with this dark liquid. Coffee is something that will return the master to the favorable mood!

Talons rejoiced at this remarkable discovery and decided to send one of them on a mission as soon as possible to get rid of the potential danger.

~~~~

Danny: Thanks for the coffee, man. Hey, you also took another drink, judging by the dollars in the check. I'm so proud of you! How it was? Good?

Talon thought for a second and nodded. Yes, it was good. He didn’t drink the drink himself but when a coffee shop employee wrote down his order with a trembling hand, a boy appeared in the door.

This boy, now almost a young man, he was from his memories. Another coffee was automatically added to the order.

On his way out, Talon walked up to the sleeping chick and gave a cup to him. Even without opening his eyes, the bat’s cub sniffed and sucked the drink. Dick chirped with delight and patted boy's head, ignoring the frozen people.

That's a true magic drink which is commanding the minds of the powerful of this world. Yes, it will help them for sure!

~~~~

Danny: See, Jazz, Dick’s making progress! He went to the coffee shop today. That’s great, isn’t it?

Jazz: First, don’t call him that, we’re still not sure that’s his name and not the way Owls used to insult him.

Danny: Hey, the fact that he hissed when you called him Richard proves nothing. I don’t like being called Daniel either, or, over my dead body, Dan. I have to call him something. They’re all Talons. What are your suggestions? Jazz: We’ll talk about this later. Now back to the coffee question. Danny, did you forget anything when you let Talon go for a walk? Danny: Which one? Jazz: Don’t play dumb! Did you open the news headlines today or not? This is serious! Danny: What? Shit...civilian clothes. I didn’t think he’d wear a combat suit for it. Jazz: Didn’t you give them outfits for everyday use? Danny: Yeah, I did! But they still wear their Halloween outfits. All the time. Look, it’s not my fault they take everything I say as an order. When I asked them to make the tea and our teapot broke, they broke into some guy’s house and stole it. Jazz: Which guy? Did you at least apologize? Danny: One of Hood’s goons. I’m pretty sure he’s already met Dick on patrol, 'cause the first thing he did called Jason and start crying about being followed. Lucky for him Red was at my house that night and went to calm goon down. But I swear to you, Dick was a little shit on purpose. Of all the apartments choose his? Nah, such coincidences do not exist.

Jazz: I could be happy that he’s getting more independent in his decision making but now I feel like I have to offer the poor guy a discount therapy course.

Damian: Drake, we need to talk. I know about your investigation. You suspect one of the Talons is our missing Grayson. I’m willing to provide some evidence in exchange for… Tim: I don’t suspect, I know that. Damian: What? Where from? Tim: Well, the quadruple somersault was a good hint. And the fact that the Red Hood ran from him through the streets screaming that he wouldn’t take lunch from a damn golden child is also a tip. Damian:...Not a word to my father until we know more, right? I don’t want my older brother thrown in Arkham. Tim: Agree. It’s not like he doesn’t have a memory problem. He wouldn’t have made Alfred worried if leaving was his choice. We need more information.

Meanwhile in Gotham, Alfred aka the only one batfam member with more than one functioning brain cell *on his way to his first grandson and future husband of his sweet angel Jason*.

Danny: Jazz, we need to clean this house right now. Jazz: Since when do you start spring cleaning? Danny: I don’t know how to explain, it’s not a ghost sense, it’s more an unexplained sense of danger. Where’s the vacuum cleaner?

~~~~~

Talon №5 stood in the knitting shop in thought. What color would the little mistress prefer? It should remain useful even if the Owl does not give them direct orders. Knitting a cute sweater for mistress Dani would be a good start. Yeah, that color’s gonna be perfect. And maybe it should stop holding those needles like a weapon, it makes the cashier nervous, and he wants to pay without saving a civilian from losing consciousness.

~~~~~

Danny became a little alarmed when Talon threw himself at the old man standing on the porch. To his surprise, the Briton readily embraced the bird, and Dick let him. Talons who stood behind Danny happily chirped. Making their youngest member happy things always meant something good.

Alfred: Gentlemen, good afternoon. I guess I should thank you all for taking care of my dear grandson. Would you let me come in for a cup of tea?

#dpxdc prompt #dpxdc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc au #talon dick grayson

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teaspacebar · 1 month ago

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spiced chai (pt. 2)

part one

pairing: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader

summary: you grow closer to carmen berzatto as the seasons change. your walls are coming down, and carmy sees you at a low point.

word count: ~8.4k

warnings: language, depictions of mental illness, barista!reader, afab!reader (reader referred to as 'girl' once, but for all intents and purposes, they are nb), neurodivergent!reader, reader has a meltdown/shutdown, they still don't kiss, yearning/pining, hurt/comfort, weed usage (reader smokes a little), reader has a complicated relationship with their mother.

a/n: hello lovelies! part two is finally here after months of me picking away at it. i hope you enjoy and once again, this is learning toward self insert material, so if you don't like, don't read. i am queer, non-binary, and autistic and i am enjoying exploring that in this space. feel free to leave any asks if you have questions about carmy + reader (my beloveds). also thank you to my lovely beta @straight-n-arrow. enjoy *mwah*

You were right.

Not to say that you were right all the time — it took you months to figure out Carmy’s drink. But you did it, if the look on his face is any indication. His eyelashes flutter as he takes another drink, and you dance victoriously.

Carmen raises his eyebrows at you as he puts his cup down, “Yeah?”

You shrug, grinning, “You can say it. I’m a genius.”

”You’re a genius,” he murmurs, hiding a smile with the back of his hand.

”Thank you.” You curtsy dramatically.

”No, but seriously, I’ve had chai before, but this tastes different.”

You weren’t about to tell him how many different chai concentrates you had to try before you found the right one. It was far too many.

”Barista secret, sorry.” You say, not sorry at all. You push a cookie across the counter to him, which he snags a piece of. He watches you for a moment, and you blurt out, “It’s masala chai. There’s actual spices in it, instead of just the tea. It’s Indian. I had it once — at a tea shop — and I loved it. Regular chai just doesn’t hit quite right anymore.” You lean against the counter, squishing your face as you hold your head up with your hands. “You like it?” Reassurance, asked for casually, as the insecurity bubbles up inside of you.

“It’s really good.” He knocks on the counter twice, mumbling, “Thank you.”

Heat rises up the back of your neck, and you shrug. “I told you I’d find your drink. Wouldn’t be a good barista otherwise.” You rock back on your heels, jitters buzzing through your body.

“I - uh, started listening to that playlist you sent me.”

You almost launch yourself at him, being held back by the counter between you. Your hands grab his arm, and it takes everything inside you to not shake him. “Oh my god, this is the best thing you could have told me! Thoughts? Comments? A ten page essay?”

The playlist Carmy spoke of is one of many in your repertoire. You have a playlist for almost any occasion, and you started putting together a playlist specifically for Carmen when he commented on your music taste one late night at Nan’s. Any time a song comes on you think he’d like — for one reason or another — gets added to the playlist. You’re surprised he actually listened to it at all though.

Music is your lifeblood. Whenever you can’t grasp an understanding of your own feelings, you listen to music to help you figure it out. It’s always been a little difficult for you to understand what you were feeling in the moment. Alexythymia — you remember the word your old therapist (the one good one you had) told you. Probably has to do with how used to masking you are. Ergo, playlists. Music blasting as loud as it can go in your headphones and in your car. Grounding you to this planet…or maybe to aid in your dissociation.

But hey, you never said all of your coping mechanisms were good ones.

Carmy laughs, your excitement infectious. “I’ll have to get back to you on the essay.”

You stick your tongue out at him, nose scrunched. “Ugh, fine. Party pooper.”

“My middle name.”

Gasping, you blink at him with exaggerated wide eyes. “Carmen Berzatto, did you just make a joke?”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” He sips at his drink, staring at the counter for a moment. “Are you, uh, coming to the baby shower thing?”

The thing that Neil had told you about a few weeks ago. That you had agreed to go to without really hearing the conversation. Natalie’s having a post-birth baby shower, of which you got an actual evite from Natalie herself after you said yes to Neil. Other people from The Bear were going, so it wasn’t like you were just invited to a family only function. But you also haven’t been to a party in…who knows how long. And Natalie was literally the sweetest human on the planet, and you wouldn’t say no to looking at a cute baby.

A cute little baby Berzatto. You vaguely wonder what Carmy looked like as a baby — all curly hair, blue eyes, and that same dimple. Maybe Natalie has photos somewhere.

A thought for another time.

“Oh,” you gnaw on the inside of your lip, “I think so. You’re going?”

He nods, “Closing the restaurant early. Just window and lunch service.”

“That’s nice!” You hesitate to say anything more about The Bear. Things seem to be getting better, if the words of Syd, Marcus, and Richie were anything to go by. Chatter you hear while they pick up drinks from you before heading down the street. “I’ll probably come by, at least to say hi.”

“Cool.”

You squint at him, “You gotta promise you’ll save me from making a fool of myself.”

Carmy looks at you incredulously, like you’re missing something, but he relents, “Only if you do the same for me.”

“Deal.” You reach out your hand, raising an eyebrow. He rolls his eyes, but grabs your hand as you shake it dramatically. “Pleasure doing business, Mr. Berzatto.”

Carmen swallows back the acid in his throat as he looks around the crowded living room of his sister’s house. He really should have brought some Pepto tablets or something. He’s nursing a beer in his hand, a cheap one that Pete had in the fridge. It doesn’t help the heartburn, and in all honestly Carmen has barely touched it. He’s said hello to Natalie, and the baby, at least.

He hasn’t seen you anywhere, though. Which puts a different feeling in his stomach, one he doesn’t care to evaluate in the current moment. Taking a drink from his beer, he grimaces, staring at it in contempt. He decides to see if he can find something actually drinkable, maybe in the garage fridge, and he leaves the corner he was hiding in.

As if by thinking you into existence, he spots you near the entryway across from the living room. He goes to walk over to you, but stops when he sees a little blur ram straight into your legs, arms wrapping around your waist.

Eva, Richie’s daughter, grins up at you. You return it, crouching down to give her a proper hug. Richie is soon to follow, calling out your name and clapping you on the shoulder.

It’s like someone’s twisted his stomach into knots.

He watches you smile and chat animatedly with Richie and Eva, letting the little girl grab your arms and use you as a jungle gym. You’re pulled into the living room, a chorus of your name being called by his coworkers, and Carmy dips into the kitchen.

He catches his sister deep in a bowl of some five-layer bean dip thing one of Pete’s relatives bought from Costco.

She’s eating it with a spoon. A big one. Which she waves at him with a glare, “Bear, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Hey I didn’t say anything.” He slides by her to open up the fridge, staring into it. “You have anything decent to drink?”

“No, just some juice, and Diet Coke, I think.” She takes another bite of the dip. “I got rid of anything above a 5% alcohol content months ago.”

“Why?” Silence falls between the siblings for a moment, then Carmy shakes his head. “No, sorry, yeah. Makes sense. I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay, Bear.” He can tell she means it. That he didn’t fuck up. “I don’t think it’ll be a problem, really. I just…wanted to make sure, you know?”

“Yeah.” He chews on his next sentence, shutting the fridge to look at Nat. “You-You’re gonna be a great mom.” He immediately sees tears start to well up in her eyes. “Hey, I’m sorry. Shit, I didn’t — it’s okay.”

Natalie sets the tray of dip on the table, laughing as she presses her hands to her eyes. Carmen is quiet; he fiddles with the packet of nicotine gum in his pocket. He barely realizes what’s happening until her arms are wrapped around him and her face in his neck. “Thank you, Carm.”

Something in him rights itself. Like a little lightbulb is finally screwed in all the way and it finally blinks on.

Natalie pushes his shoulder a little and steps out of the embrace. “Okay, enough sap. I have to go check on my baby. I swear if Richie makes one more joke about dropping her I might actually kill him.” She takes one more spoonful of bean dip, humming happily. “Don’t hide in here for too long, okay?” He nods his assent, and his sister leaves.

Carmen follows after her a few minutes later. His gaze finds you without him even trying, as if you have your own gravitational pull. You’re in a little circle with Syd and Marcus on the far side of the room. And maybe you feel it, too, because your eyes lock with his and a smile pulls at your lips. His feet push him forward, but he’s caught by Pete’s brother. Carmy’s pulled into the conversation, Natalie coming over with the baby. She helps him figure out how to hold her entirely too fragile body in his arms, and although he’s itching for a cigarette to ease his nerves, he’s content. Happy, even.

He catches your eyes again, and you make a face, sticking your tongue out at him. Carmy huffs a laugh, shaking his head, while you turn back to engage with his coworkers — his friends.

It’s later in the evening that Carmy finds you outside. The sun has set, sky fading from hues of pink and orange to a cool indigo. There’s a chill in the air, a sign that fall is truly on its way. He had snagged a cigarette off Richie earlier, deciding he deserved to sneak one. He’s been here for a couple hours. All hell hasn’t broken loose. Having a smoke definitely isn’t the worst thing he could do.

He goes out the side door, through the gate that leads back to the front of the house. He’s sure he has a lighter in his car, stashed in the center console somewhere. Nicotine gum be damned.

You’re sitting on the curb, head turned toward the sky, arms resting on your knees. A blanket of calm covers you, but something lingers underneath. Loneliness, maybe. Self-imposed, because it’s easier than holding a smile on your lips around people you barely know. That tug, the one that he constantly feels when he sees you, urges him forward. You must not have heard him walking up, because you jolt when he asks, “You okay?”

“Carmen, shit, you scared me.” You lean back to look at him, resting your hands palm-down on the sidewalk. “I’m good. Just needed a minute. You?”

“Uh,” he fiddles with the cig in his hand. “Left my lighter in the car.”

“I got one!” You dig into your bag — a mini backpack, covered with a cartoon character he recognizes but can’t name. “Usually keep one on me, where is it…” You let out a noise of victory as you find it, holding it out to him.

“Thanks,” he takes it from you, and your fingers brush. Something catches in his throat, stomach turning.

Fwip. Like clockwork, he’s blowing out the smoke, making sure it’s not going in your direction. He hands the lighter back to you, murmuring, “Thought you didn’t smoke.”

Craning your neck to look at him, you reply, “I don’t.” To save your neck from breaking, Carmy decides to sit on the curb. Settling next to you, he takes another drag, right as you say, “Well, not the nicotine kind, anyway.”

Carmen laughs in surprise, then tries to cover it up with a cough, “No shit?” He waves the smoke away with his free hand.

“Fuck off, Carmy.” Your words lack bite, and you tumble off into your own laughter. “What, you think I’m too much of a nerd to smoke weed?” He attempts to hide the grin forming, and you swat at his arm. “Oh my god, you do!”

“No, no, I think you’re very edgy. With your combat boots and your Mothman tattoo.”

“I’m being bullied!” You cackle, outraged. “There’s no way you're not a nerd, too. We congregate.” Your laughter gives way to a comfortable silence, knees pulled up to your chest. Your cheek rests against your knees, and you twirl your lighter in your fingers.

The air is cold, but Carmy has never felt warmer. It’s like you carry the very essence of your late nights at Nan’s with you in your pocket. Only to be brought out at the correct moment. Seeing you carefree is a treat, one he covets. There’s a strange thing in his chest that pangs when you relax in his presence.

“It was nice for Natalie to invite me,” you say, soft and earnest. Like you weren’t expecting it.

“She’s glad you came.” Natalie hadn’t mentioned anything, but he’s sure it’s true.

You look over at him, blinking lazily. You’re staring, blatantly, and he lets you, snubbing out his cigarette on the sidewalk. “Her baby is so cute it literally kills me.” You mumble, more of a groan than words. “It’s cuteness aggression. I swear if I see those chubby cheeks again I could kill someone.”

Carmy snorts, glancing at you, “Do I need to worry?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m just – I think I’m done with,” you wave your hands vaguely. “Words. Brain. I’ve met way too many people today.” You peek over in his direction. “Sorry.”

“Nah, I feel you.” He does. It’s an experience he knows all too well. Social functions with expectations always turn his stomach sour. He inhales, fingers tapping out a rhythm on his thigh, “You wanna get outta here?”

Your head lifts, “Huh?”

“There’s this, uh, pizza place. Small joint, like, ten minutes from here? Mom and pop shop, deep dish, good shit.” He’s rambling, but the words keep spilling from his lips. “We could take my car, if you want.”

Nice going, hotshot.

You’re looking at him like he’s grown two heads, but before he can retract anything, you smile. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” Relief; as if you could bring anything else.

“Will your sister get mad…if you leave?”

“I’ll text her.” He stands, and holds out his hands for you. He barely notices he’s done it, until you’ve grabbed them and he’s tugged you up onto your feet. You let out a little noise, doing a little hop, before letting go.

You follow him to his car, and for a moment he panics about what it looks like inside. But then he remembers it’s just you.

The two of you share a pepperoni pizza, in the dim lighting of the little restaurant. The owner comes out to greet you, giving both you and Carmy a firm handshake. You hum as you take bites of food, and Carmy can’t hide his grin. You talk about everything and nothing, random shit that doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. Long moments of silence that’s just the two of you eating.

Carmen feels frighteningly…normal. Like maybe this is what his life was supposed to be like all along. Going to a social function and ditching to get drinks and food with people you care about.

Full and relaxed, he watches as you melt into the dingy leather booth. You’re not really talking, staring off to the side where some sports game is playing on the TV mounted in the corner. Your gaze is vacant, thumbnail picking at a groove in the table. Worried, Carmy settles his hand over yours, and your gaze snaps to him. It’s wide, like he’s caught you somewhere you didn’t want him to.

He fears if he asks if you’re okay that you’ll bolt. “Wanna head out?”

“Sure.” You grab your jacket from where you tossed it beside you, sliding out of the booth. You’re silent, all the way to the car, and Carmy feels his anxiety prick the back of his neck.

When you’re both in the car, you blurt, “Sorry.”

“Huh?” Is all he can say. He hasn’t even turned the keys in the ignition yet.

“I had a good time! Really, I just…today’s been a lot. And sometimes I, like, power down? Like someone flipped a switch and suddenly it’s hard for me to emote about anything. I zone out, occasionally. I didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you, or that I wasn’t having a good time.” The words pour out of you, unbidden, and Carmen can see the dots connecting in his own head. You’re defending yourself. You feel like you have to defend yourself for not engaging in conversation. At the realization, his anxiety dissipates as quickly as it came. Of course it wasn’t about him.

Turning to face you in the car, he shakes his head, “No, hey, you’re good. We’re good, yeah?” He bites the inside of his cheek, before continuing, “You don’t have to…just because we’re not at your shop doesn’t mean you have to act any different. And if it’s too much, we don’t have to…” His voice trails off.

Mirroring him, you also turn. His eyes catch on your hands, thumb pressed into the middle of your other palm. “No!” You cringe at yourself, “Sorry, I mean – I want to hang out, outside of work.”

“Okay,” he says, lightly. He lets you sit, watches as you take a few deep breaths. He subconsciously echoes you, inhaling when you exhale.

After a couple of minutes, you nod, “Okay. Maybe we could make plans? Like check our schedules and have a place picked out. Or a list of places we want to try?”

“Restaurants?”

“Or cafes. They don’t have to all be food places. It’s a common denominator between us, though.”

“Having a plan makes it easier?” It’s like he’s pulled a bit of the covering back, revealing a different piece of you.

You hum, “Yeah, most of the time.”

“Cool.”

It’s cool with me, if that’s what you need.

You peer over at him, “Sorry, if I weirded you out.”

“You didn’t.” At your squint, he scoffs, “If anyone should be weirded out, it’s you. You met half of my family today.” He ignores the assumption that pops up in the back of his mind.

Falling back into the passenger seat, you laugh. “A little.” You settle; Carmy can visibly see your shoulders untense. “It’s nice, the community you have.” It’s whispered, a little reverent.

A few months ago the comment might have made him bristle. He’s a little surprised it doesn’t, still.

“Yeah,” he murmurs.

He puts on the playlist you made for him, and you brighten a little. The car ride back is filled with your singing, and Carmy is warm once again. He’s made you feel better. He hasn’t royally fucked anything up. He drops you off by your car, and you give a little wave before you peel away.

Carmy walks back into Nat’s house, finding her sitting in a recliner, baby tucked carefully in her arms. The party has slowed, only Pete’s family left.

Natalie’s eyes find his, a gentle smile on her lips, “Have a good time?”

Carmy nods, “You?”

“Very.” The siblings don’t need to say much, to talk, sometimes. It’s getting easier to read between the lines, like relearning a language. “I’m glad they came.”

He holds back a laugh, pleased. “Me too.”

As the leaves change and the air turns cold, Nan’s gets busier. Nothing crazy, but it’s enough that you have to hire another barista. You’re thrown into training the new kid. It’s fun and challenging, but you’re exhausted. Who knew that having to explain why you do the things you do took more brain power? And now every day you feel a bit like mush by the end of it.

“I’m just saying, Nan has to have some connections to powerful people.”

“Elle, that’s insane!” You laugh at your coworker’s gossip. “Nan is the sweetest person I know.”

“The mob boss energy she gives is massive, don’t lie.” Elle is your newest hire, and the youngest of the crew. She’s still in high school, with so much energy you have no idea what to do with. She also reminds you of how "old" you are every second of the day. You like her, though. Plus, she does good work, which you’ll never complain about.

“Hey,” Morgan yells your name, running into the back, where you’re washing dishes. “Your boyfriend’s here.”

You set the dish you’re washing into the sanitizer sink, sighing, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“The guy from the restaurant?” Elle asks.

Morgan nods, hip checking you to the side to take your place by the sink. “We’re talking Carmen Berzatto. Who owns and runs The Bear.”

“Guys, don’t start.” You really hope the equipment sounds and the swinging doors are enough to muffle this conversation. If Carmy heard one bit of it he’d probably start running.

“We’re just teasing…mostly,” Morgan grins, sticking their tongue out at you.

Elle hums, “He watches you with puppy-dog eyes.”

“Elle.”

She holds her hands up defensively, “Right. I’ll shut up, boss.”

You groan, biting back a smile. “I’m clocking out.”

“I got the bar!” Elle dashes out of the back, and you snort. Saying bye to Morgan, you grab your bag and jacket from your cubby, before rushing out to meet up with your friend.

Carmy is puttering around some book displays, but he quickly swerves his attention to you. He’s wearing a denim jacket; it has some detailed embroidery on the sleeves and pockets. It’s not one you’ve seen him wear before, but you’re coming to learn that the man has a bit of an obsession with denim. His cheeks and nose are red, proof of the cold air that must be whipping around outside.

“Hey,” he breathes out.

“Hi,” you say, walking up to the register so you can clock out.

“Old people,” Elle whispers next to you. You give her a glance, body warming with embarrassment. As you walk around the counter and follow Carmy outside of the shop, she yells after you, “We’ll make sure not to burn the place down!”

The bell jingles as the door closes. “She seems to be doing good.”

“She is, but she never fails to drive me just a little bit crazy? Not in a bad way, just different.” You wave your fingers up by your head, before pointing at him, “No work talk. That’s the rules of our standing lunch outings.” You follow Carmy down the road, letting him guide you through the streets he knows so well.

“Right, right, my bad.”

The ‘standing lunch outings’, as you’ve taken to calling them, have been a frequent addition for the last few months. At least once a week, the two of you will try a new food place. Carmy’s also started bringing leftovers from lunch service to the shop — sometimes enough for everyone, mostly just for you. You’ll bring him his drink on particularly long days, giving him a moment to hide away behind The Bear.

You’ve picked the current location — a waffle spot. All kinds of waffles, some even in sandwich form. The choice had caused Carmy to scoff lightheartedly, but he didn’t veto it.

“How are you not a waffles guy?” You peer over at him.

He shrugs, “I don’t know. They just seem…”

“Wonderful? Nostalgic? The tastiest breakfast item in the universe?”

“That’s incorrect, but sure.”

“Don’t start with me, Berzatto, or you’re buying.” He rolls his eyes at your antics, and the two of you go back to looking at the menu on the side of the food truck. A shiver runs through your body as cold air sneaks into your jacket. You rub your hands up and down your arms, tugging your beanie a bit more over your ears.

When it gets to your turn to order, you stutter over your words when Carmy shuffles up behind you, effectively blocking the wind. Warmth seeps into your back from his chest, and you stop yourself from leaning into it. You finish your order, the world fading into background noise as your thoughts race.

That had to be accidental, right? Casual touches weren’t really his thing. He’s not even that close. God, how touch starved are you?

“That’ll be $30.95.” You check back in too late, as Carmy reaches around you to tap his phone to the card reader.

“Carmen!” You turn to him, shocked. There’s a tiny little smirk on his stupid face. His dimple is mocking you.

“What?” He asks innocently.

“Wha-you!”

“You said I’m buying.”

You glare at him, “It’s not funny when you’re clever.”

“I’m always funny.” It’s deadpan, and he ushers you to the side to wait for your food. “Besides, technically it was my turn. I just couldn’t pick a new place.”

There’s space between you again, which makes your chest ache. “Both of us can’t be indecisive in this friendship, Carmy.”

He huffs out a laugh through his nose, “Don’t think we have a choice in that.” Giving you a look, he says, “You can go wait inside, if you want. I’ll wait for the food.” You open your mouth to retort, but he cuts you off, “You’re gonna freeze to death out here.”

“I’m acclimating,” you pout.

“Sure.” He nudges you with his elbow, and it’s embarrassing how easily you soften. You puff out your cheeks, but mozey to the indoor seating area of the food cart pod. Taking a seat at a table that gives you a clear view of Carmy, you give him a wave. He shakes his head good-naturedly, waving back.

You’ve enjoyed spending time with Carmen Berzatto more than you thought you would. You’d thought you would have run out of things to talk about by now, that it would turn awkward, or he’d get tired of you and disappear from your life as quickly as he’d entered it. But none of that has happened yet. Instead he’s found a place in your routine, fitting seamlessly into your life like there’d always been a space for him.

He’s come out of his shell more. He smiles easier, and the lines in his forehead from the constant furrow in his brow has eased somewhat.

You think maybe he feels just as safe with you, as you do with him.

Your phone buzzes in your hand.

(from mom, 2:34pm): Are you at work? Haven’t heard from you in a while. Your grandpa isn’t doing the best.

Three separate blocks of texts are suddenly overtaken by an old photo of your mom. The image causes your stomach to drop and you immediately flip your phone face down onto the table. You take a few deep breaths to try to calm down, but it feels like someone has shoved their hand into your chest and is squeezing as hard as they can. You press your thumb into the palm of your hand until your phone stops buzzing. Biting your tongue, you grab it, opening up your texts. You type out a response, only to delete it.

“I might be eating my words about waffles being shit,” Carmy’s sudden appearance makes you jump. “Woah, sorry. You good?” He slides your waffle order across the table.

“Uh, yeah. Just spooked me,” you put a smile onto your face, shoving your phone into your pocket. “Now go on, I love to hear I’m right.”

The first bite has his eyes widening, a hushed ‘shit’ leaving his lips before he can cover his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Word’s out, Carmy likes waffles!” He throws a napkin at you, causing you to cackle. A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he takes another bite, waving you off.

Carmy eats like a monster, so messy and boyish it’s endearing. You match his pace, engrossed in the food in front of you, texts forgotten.

“What are you doing?” Syd walks over to where Natalie is peeking through a window. The younger woman glances outside where Nat is looking, and sighs, “You know they can see you if they look over here.”

“They’re literally oblivious. Does this happen a lot?” The blonde pulls out her phone to snap a photo.

You and Carmy are a few feet away from the front door of The Bear. You’re chatting, and it’s easy to tell that neither of you want to be the first to leave. Carmy is hovering next to you, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

“Don’t take a – yes, this happens a lot. Like once a week, or something.”

Natalie whips around to face her, “And you haven’t told me?!”

Syd shrugs, “I don’t know. I was worried it was going to be like…last time. It doesn’t matter, it’s not my business.”

“What do you think they do?”

“Rob banks — who knows, Nat. It’s not affecting work and he’s been less of a douche lately so I’m not complaining.”

“Are the lovebirds outside?” Richie comes out of the kitchen, adjusting his tie.

Natalie turns to him, “What do you know?”

“Oh my god,” Syd groans. “I’m going to go prep, before this turns into a whole thing. Richie, don’t fuck this up for us.”

The man gives a two-finger salute, “You got it, boss.” At Nat’s pointed look he holds his hands up, “Alright, alright, chill out. Look, I’m not trying to fuck with anything, okay? The place has a good thing going for it right now, so if that means we let the kids disappear for an hour or two once a week, I’m cool with it.”

Natalie frowns, “It’s not that I’m not cool with it. I just—“

“Have to know what’s going on at all times?”

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “No…yes. Maybe? Things have been getting better but I just get worried.”

“Maybe we gotta let him decide who he wants to talk to and when. Forcing the conversation obviously isn’t working.” Natalie blinks at him in surprise, at which he laughs, “Something my therapist said.”

“You have a therapist?”

“Now don’t go spreading that around. It’s mainly to help Eva. I wasn’t planning on doing more than one stupid session anyways, but Point Pleasant out there convinced me one night when they were watching Eva, so.” Richie is never sheepish, but there’s an obvious fondness for you that Natalie can see on his face.

“Point Pleasant?”

The man screws his face up, “Yeah, it’s not sticking, is it? Mothman feels too on the nose. Don’t even get me started on that, it’s all my kid wants to read about now.”

Just how much change have you already caused in this family of theirs?

Natalie barely has time to dig into the thought when Carmy walks into the restaurant. There’s a smile on his face, one that falls slightly when he spots the two of them standing by the window.

“Hey Bear.”

“Hey, didn’t know you were coming by. I would’ve grabbed you some food or something. Have you eaten?”

Natalie blinks, shocked. She bites her tongue before she can ask where her little brother went. “I’m okay, Carm. Thank you, though.”

“Yeah, no problem. Gotta help prep, but touch base with me before you leave?”

“Sure, Bear.” Carmy gives a nod, pats Richie on the shoulder, then walks through the kitchen doors. “What the fuck?”

Richie snorts at her words, “Yeah, I thought the same thing, too.”

(from carmy in the big blue apron, 10:34pm): Lights are on, but I don't see you. You good?

(sent 10:37pm): not having the best day, don’t really want to subject you to that.

You think that does it. Carmy usually doesn’t push it with you. There’s a crudely drawn line that the two of you dance around. You’ve shared just enough that you consider him a friend, but he hasn’t seen the darker parts. It’s easier when you get to take the mask off yourself — it’s much worse when it gets torn from your face without you saying so. Control slips from your fingers and no matter how hard you try to put the shattered pieces back together, it fails.

(from carmy in the big blue apron, 10:41pm): You wouldn’t be. Feel free to tell me to fuck off though.

A laugh escapes your lips, and you wipe the tears that steadily fall down your face. Few people in your life have seen you like this. There’s a very real worry in your head that it will push him away. The urge to run crawls up your spine.

Desperate little rabbit.

Your fingers twitch, and you’re typing before you can stop yourself.

(sent 10:43pm): there’s a spare key in the hanging flower pot

You’re unsure if he’s still out front, but you can’t bring yourself to get off the floor. There’s static in your head that’s far too loud. You can barely feel your body and any grounding techniques you’ve tried haven’t worked.

He finds you in between the books, your back against one shelf, knees pulled up to your chest. He doesn’t say anything, but sits down opposite of you, legs extended. It takes a moment for you to look up at him, fear and shame filling up the back of your throat. You fight the tears that well up, grimacing.

“Fuck,” you sob, pushing the palms of your hands into your eye sockets. “You really don’t need to be here right now.” You inhale, almost choking on the spit and mucus in your mouth.

There’s pressure against your left side, and you lift up a hand to watch Carmen nudge his leg against yours. “I, uh, have panic attacks, sometimes.” You sniffle, wiping your nose on your sleeve — gross. “They were bad, before I came back home. But they got worse after…” he trails off, clearing his throat. “Shit, what I’m saying is…if you need someone to talk to, you can talk to me. Not anything you don’t want to.”

You don’t say anything for a while, but Carmy continues sitting next to you. He doesn’t make a run for it, like the thoughts in your head predicted he would. It’s just you and him under the warm lighting of the bookstore. The heat from his leg has melted into yours, softening you enough to let the overwhelming feelings leave you.

Inhale. Hold four seconds. Exhale.

He's doing your breathing technique, you realize. Carmy might not even notice he's doing it, but you copy him until the lingering panic fades.

Your pinky reaches out from where it was clenched into a fist, brushing against his hand that’s resting on his bent knee. His eyes shoot over to you, and a wry smile tugs at your lips. “Bet you weren’t expecting this when you came over tonight, huh?”

His brow furrows, fingers catching yours, “It’s okay, really.” Your hands entwine, Carmen’s thumb moving back and forth across your knuckles. You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to fight the onslaught of tears for an entirely different reason.

He's sweet. So much so that you don't know what to do with it.

“Thanks, Carmy.” You let your head fall back to rest against the shelf behind you, already feeling a migraine start to form behind your eyes. “It was stupid. I dropped my phone and it bounced off a table and hit my foot. It didn’t even hurt, but it was the thing that broke the camel’s back, I guess.” Thoughtlessly, your fingers have started to trace the tattoo on the back of his hand, the motion soothing you. “This week has been shit. Little things, stacking up.” Running out of vanilla syrup, sleeping through your alarm one morning, your car needing a new battery. “And my mom called. Has been calling. She doesn’t stop. Every day she calls and every time I can’t bring myself to pick up because I know it’s just going to make me feel worse. Haven’t heard from her in months and now all of a sudden she won’t leave me the fuck alone.” You spit the words out, “She only talks about herself and when she even thinks to ask about me she never really cares. It’s like she has this idea of me in her head, that I’ll never be — that I don’t want to be. I can’t meet her expectations. I’m not her perfect little girl anymore and I wish I could just scream that in her face but anytime I talk to her it’s like I’m suddenly…” it’s half a scoff, half laugh, “…suddenly I’m in that house again and I just stand there, not saying anything.” As if realizing where you are, you pull away from Carmy, curling back into yourself. “Shit, I really didn’t mean to trauma dump on you.”

Your relationship with your mother is complicated. It’s layers upon layers of things that you barely have time to dissect. You’re known to be a runner. A new place, new job; you can remake yourself as many times as you want. As much as you think it’s easier, your heart hurts just the same. She doesn’t call you by your name. She can barely treat you with common decency and yet she sends you money when you need it. She loves you, but not how you want her to. It’s the best you’ll get from her.

But you’ve experienced better than that, from people who’ve known you less. It puts everything into perspective — a big, red warning sign. You’ve crafted masks to fit your face into exactly what people want from you your entire life. You’ve tugged them from your skin in sheets, desperate to figure out who you are under the layers upon layers you had built to protect yourself. You’re finally starting to like yourself.

You’d hate to fuck it up.

Carmy’s quiet; you’re getting ready to sprint. Or backpedal. Anything to—

“That’s fucked.”

It’s the first time that your gaze meets his. Blue eyes reflect the fairy lights above you. Your heart is thundering in your ears.

“It’s fine, I know how to handle it, usually.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” Something passes through his gaze, like he’s seeing something else for a second, but it passes with a huff. “Look, I get it, the expectations thing. It’s not all the same, a-and I’m sure there’s way more to it then just…what you’ve said.”

“Carmen—”

“You don’t need to change, is all I’m saying.” Before you can respond, he gets off the floor, knees popping. His hands are held out for you, and you’re reminded of that night at the end of Natalie’s driveway. You’ve touched his hands tonight more than you have the entire time you’ve known him. “C’mon, let’s get you something to eat.” At your scrunched face, he hums, “I can make grilled cheese.”

“You’re playing dirty.” You let him pull you up, wiping at your face. “I probably look like a mess.”

“Lemme see,” he murmurs. He looks you over, making a point of brushing imaginary dust off your shoulders. “Nah, you’re good. It’s dark enough that nobody will be able to tell.”

He’s offering you a reprieve; it warms your insides. You take it, letting the achy emotions be folded and put away to be processed later.

You pout, “With the bright lights in your kitchen showing how blotchy my skin is?” Even the idea of the white lighting bearing down on you makes your oncoming migraine twinge.

Carmy helps you collect your things, bending down to grab your phone from its place on the floor. “We don’t have to go to The Bear. My apartment isn’t too far.”

Your heart skips a few beats.

“Your place?”

He’s looking at you again, “Uh, yeah. If that’s fine. Didn’t want the lights to hurt your eyes.”

How can he see you so well? How can he walk right through your carefully built walls?

Maybe because you've given him the map. Bit by bit, piece by piece.

He’s grabbed your keys now, tote too. It’s thrown over his shoulder, looking every bit like he’s ready to hit the Saturday Farmer’s Market. You’d giggle if you weren’t so exhausted.

“Okay.”

“S’fine?” At your nod, he says, “I can drive, then drop you off at home, after. Didn’t see your car outside at all. Or, I could just drive you home now. Whichever.” He’s nervous, hand tightening on the strap of your bag.

“I want my grilled cheese,” you whine, gravitating toward him.

He laughs, “Alright, alright.” Urging you out the front door, he turns and locks it. “I’ll grab some stuff from the restaurant, my car is parked in the back. You want to go and warm it up?” Carmy digs around in his own pockets, tugging out his own keys, detaching the car fob and holding it out for you.

Mama Bear.

The thought has you biting your lip to keep the grin off your face.

It’s a quick walk to The Bear, and as he waves you off, you call out his name. “My stuff?” His cheeks flush — is it from the weather or you? He shrugs your tote bag from his shoulder, and you take it from him. “Won’t be too long?”

Carmy coughs, voice a bit higher than normal, “Yeah, like five minutes?” He turns, “You go ahead. There’s an extra sweatshirt tossed in the back somewhere, if you’re cold. It’s almost November and you don’t have a real jacket, you’re gonna freeze.” That last part is mumbled you barely hear it.

Your breath catches, and you press the palm of your hand into your chest.

Please, let me keep this.

Thoughts whispered into the wind, to the universe. A silent plea. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything more.

It’s the smile he gives you — after he opens the driver’s side door, handing you a plastic bin filled with cheese and a loaf of bread — when he notices you’re wearing the sweatshirt he offered you, that just affirms your thought. You want him to keep smiling at you like that.

The fluttery feeling spreads from your chest to your limbs; your fingers tingle like they’re waking up from sleep. It doesn’t catch, but settles into the warmth you’ve come to affiliate with Carmy’s presence.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you reply, “thinking about that grilled cheese.” You peer into the bucket he’s given you. “So fancy.”

“You’re sleep deprived.” He put the car in reverse, putting his hand behind your headrest to look behind him. You live up to his words, because you head butt his arm with your forehead gently. It’s not something you would normally do — if you were more awake, if your migraine wasn’t pulsing. But you’re tired, and Carmy has given you more comfort than you know what to deal with, it’s spilling over your edges. You don’t see him react, and let him pull his hand back so he can drive. “You got the aux?”

You give a two-fingered salute, “Tune master, to the rescue.” The laugh you pull from him — gentle, a bit exasperated — is filed away for later. You’ll hoard it, along with every little bit of himself he gives to you.

Inhale.

Let me keep this.

Exhale.

You’re in his kitchen.

His actual kitchen, not the big, fancy one that he’s known for. Dingy, warm lighting on above the stove, messily written notes to himself about recipes on his fridge. He hasn’t had someone at his place since…

He shakes the thought away, determined to make you feel better. The buzzing anxiety he thought he’d have hasn't made an appearance, and he’s locked into making you the best damned grilled cheese you’ve ever had (again). He may not be the best with words, but he can do this.

You’d asked him fairly quickly after you got to his place, if he would mind if you smoked a little before eating. “It’d help me get an appetite, and help my brain a little bit,” you had said. “If it would bother you though, I won’t.” You had seemed nervous to ask; Carmy wonders if you’ve ever smoked in front of anyone.

(You hadn’t. But you also hadn’t had a meltdown in front of anyone either. Plenty of masks have come down tonight, what’s another?)

He had shown you to the tiny patio, watching you through the window as you blew smoke through your lips. You were only out there for a few minutes, coming back in looking a little sheepish. You’d poked around his living room a little, before meandering your way to him.

Inevitably, you end up sitting on the kitchen counter that juts out from the wall. You’re sipping on a can of pop — through a plastic straw you had floating around in your tote bag — going between scrolling on your phone and peering over to see what he’s doing. He’s shredded the cheeses he’d brought home, layering them onto some spare sourdough. A mix of softened butter, mayo, and garlic powder has been spread thinly across the slices. It’s set into the frying pan with a slight sizzle, when movement catches his eye.

You’ve grabbed a pinch of cheese from the plate, shoving it into your mouth so fast he barely catches it. You hold your hand over your lips, hiding the evidence.

“Did you just—”

“Woah, that’s crazy,” you look around with wide eyes, “did you see that? Some random guy just ran in here and stole some cheese! I tried to stop him and everything!” You’re laughing at your little stint, and he can’t help but join you.

“Oh yeah?”

You lean forward, snatching another handful, “Oh my god, he just did it again!”

He waves his spatula at you, “I saw you!”

You use your other hand to cover his eyeline. “How dare you accuse me of thievery, Carmen!” you exclaim, muffled by cheese. He bumps your knee with his hip, failing to hide his grin, and you poke his thigh with a sock-covered foot. He’s tired; you are too, but both of you are used to the exhaustion. Fatigue giving way in the early hours for something else, soft and silly.

Got a sneaky one there, eh, Bear?

You fit nicely into his space. His sweater suits you, too.

He finishes the sandwich quickly, sliding it onto a plastic plate, before turning to hand you your food. A gentle laugh escapes him when you do your little “happy food dance” as you grab the plate from him. He watches as you nibble on the corner, easing closer to you.

There’s that pull again. One Carmy doesn’t bother to fight. How could he, when you’ve done nothing but make him feel like a person? He’d make another billion grilled cheeses, if it meant he got to see you enjoy it every time.

“Carmy.”

“Hm?”

“Bite?” You hold out half of the sandwich out to him, and he steps between your knees, where you sit criss-cross on the counter. He grabs it from you, and you share the late-night snack in the dim lighting of his kitchen. When you’re both done — plate set on the counter, hands wiped free of grease on a paper towel — Carmy lingers.

It takes him by surprise when your fingers brush against his forehead. He freezes, letting you tug softly on a stray curl. A light huff comes out your nose, like you’re laughing at a joke only you can hear.

Carmy thinks this might be the closest he’s gotten to peace.

“Thanks,” you murmur into the quiet, “for being with me while I was…”

“Yeah, no problem.” He braves the prick of anxiety, the voice in his head telling him he doesn’t deserve this, giving your calf a gentle squeeze where he knows your Mothman tattoo hides under your jeans.

You haven’t run away yet.

In fact, the way you lean into his touch, your own hand drifting from his forehead to rest on his shoulder, only makes him want to touch you more. It’s a desperate thing, one that comes out of nowhere. You've trusted him with something; you've let him care for you, in the way he knows how.

"Can I hug you?" The question, whispered into the quiet, knocks the wind out of him.

"Y-yeah," he all but falls into you, arms wrapping around your waist as you pull him in by his shoulders. You rest your chin on his shoulder, rubbing his back with one hand.

He squeezes you instinctively, and you squeak in surprise, before dissolving into giggles. You pull away just enough to see his face, "I didn't think you were much of a hugger."

"M'not."

You hum, eyes searching his while you run your fingers up and down the length of his arms.

"I didn't think you were," he mumbles, "for what it's worth."

You shrug, "I am with people I'm close to. I know it's different for everyone. Or that some days I don't want to be touched, because I'm overstimulated, or something. It's okay, though?"

Better than okay. Maybe he's contact high, but he's sure that's not right. He's safe; not on edge, yet every nerve ending is alight because you've touched him.

He has no idea what the fuck is going on.

You've made him crazy. Or the sanest he's ever been.

Say something, dipshit.

Fuck, right. You're waiting for him to reply, eyes wide.

"S'cool. Nice." He coughs, "It doesn't bother me." Your nose is scrunched, cheeks puffed out. He pokes your cheek, "Did you want me to drive you home?" Carmy forces himself to back out of your space, going to put the dishes in the sink to be washed later.

"We could watch a movie?"

"I don't really have anything..."

"You don't have streaming services?"

He looks at you over his shoulder, eyebrow raised, "You think I have time to watch Netflix?"

"You can have my login. At least until it kicks you off." You hop off the counter, "We should watch a Disney movie."

His heart warms as you start to talk — mostly to yourself — about what movie to put on.

It's 2am, he's exhausted, but he's never been more awake.

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fanfic #neurodivergent!reader #— moth writes #spiced chai

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omega-e123 · 5 months ago

Note

in sprit of my love for our edgy hedgehog here is some headcannons i have for shadow (there all kinda random ones from different things)

sepration anxiety headcannons

-if you have a tendencey to cling to him, and always want to be at his side from your anxiety. Shadow after time will instinctively start to either carry you, or hold your hand as he leaves a room to keep you from feeling alone.

-when hes at work shadow will check on you throughout the day, sending your short but sweet texts or chaos controling home to see you on his lunch breaks. So you both can eat together (even though he doesnt need to) and he can be sure your alright.

-shadow will also before he goes to work leave you a list of things to do to occupy you to keep your anxiety at bay. It could be chores, craft projects or a book of his he enjoyed and would like you to read so he can share it with you.

-shadow will encourage you to see a therapist to help you with your anxiety, however he wont force you into it, but if you do go expect to be showered in kisses as a reward for getting through it.

Period headcannons:-

-when your on your sharkweek shadow becomes more gentle than usual, trying his best to work with your current state.

-shadow typically is against eating a lot of junk food, but keeps a basket full of your favorite sweets for your sharkweek. Building on it throughout the month and handing it to you once it hits with a kiss.

-shadow is like your personal heating pad when your on the week. Using his chaos energy to help soothe the pain the best he can, as he cuddles you protecting you from the world.

-shadow doesnt let you do much work when your on your period, worried the extra strain on your body will cause you to feel worse. So when he has to get a few things done, like dinner or prehaps g.u.n papers he brought back from work so he could take care of you. He will wrap you up in a heated blanket, and a weighted one to keep you comfortable, while he gently orders like a father with a small child for you to stay on the couch in the little blanket burrito he left you in, and stands by it even though you try to help him.

Cuddle headcannons:-

-shadow typically prefers to be the big spoon when cuddling, wanting to be the one who holds you so he can feel like hes protecting you as you both hide away from the world.

-shadow typically unless its bedtime, or hes try to get you to nap, prefers for you both to cuddle without a blanket, due to it makes him a bit to hot because of his fur.

-however in the winter this hedgey boy is stealing your blankets when you cuddle, staying to stay warm as his body against his will trys to get him to hybernate.

-shadow when you cuddle always make sure your face is no where near where his quills could accidently hurt you, not wanting to cause you any pain ever.

Injurys:-

-when it comes to any injury you might possess shadow is like your own personal nurse due to his experaince from the ark, and first aid training from g.u.n.

-he knows almost every basic and complicated medical procdure in the book, how to stitch wounds, the process of treating extensive burns and more.

-Shadow can help you with most injurys, explaining the process as he goes making sure there are no suprises in the process. Even if your at the doctor and they explain you need a certain a treatment or medicial procdure, shadow will explain it to you gently helping the process go by smoother.

-if your terrified of needles shadow will kiss your head, while holding and smoothing out your hands as the doctor gives you the shot or if he brought you in for stitches. Shadow also will hold you gently in a way to keep you still so you dont accidently kick the doctor and make the process worse.

-when it comes to any post op care, shadow is very strict on being sure the site of injury is being taken care of. Setting a schedule of dressing changes, and making sure you get your bed rest.

Some other random headcannons:-

-shadow likes to meal prep your meals for when hes at work for the week. So he doesnt have to worry about you not having a good meal while hes gone. He even has the different containers labeled for each day and loves to cook with you.

-shadow also like to write you notes before he heads to work, due to hes gone before you even wake up most days and he wants you to wake up to something that could make you smile.

-shadow will make you popcorn, but then for himself pour a bowl of coffee beans and eat them as if they are popcorn, this is what prehaps will start your own obession with the beans causing you both to eat them together.

-shadow loves to read, and before bed at night shadow like to sit and read to you whatever book he is reading currently. Excited to share it, and smiles as he puts you to sleep as he reads aloud.

Ooog. (I’m going to do my best to type on my phone while I have so many bandaids on my fingies)

I eat all of these head canons up!! I wanted to add a bit of commentary and few to the list which is why it took so long for me to answer!

With the readers separation anxiety coupled with Shadow’s fear of losing you. You guys are like two peas in a pod.

Shadow is never short on giving you validation and reassurance. He’ll always return to your side, no matter how far apart you two may be.

Basing off SxSh, he’s seems like the type to much more open to communicating with you. Trying to understand where you’re coming from as well as plans to make things work between you two.

He’s an action problem solver guy, so when presented with your woes, Shadow would ask you, “Solution or Support?” before diving straight in.

I completely agree on the sending texts. “Busy. Cant talk. Thinking of you ❤️” , “Received. Talk to you ASAP.”

Little texts to let you know he isn’t ignoring you.

Probably not the biggest fan of sharing his location; however, will turn on his location if you do the same. Of course he can’t always have it on due to being on missions, but Shadow will give you a heads up when he remembers so you’re not left wondering what happened.

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

The thought of him being a heating pad is so nice, since you can actually toast yourself with them. Erythema ab igne is what it’s called, caused by long term exposure to heat. Shadow would be so careful and mindful of your body.

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

Because he is used to being by Maria’s side during her bad flare ups, Shadow probably still has the habit of cuddling on top of you.

Picture this: you’re lying on your back and Shadow crawls up and dumps his entire weight on top of your chest. His body covering yours like a weighted blanket.

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

I’m just thinking about mixing the popcorn and the coffee beans together— so if you’re not paying attention you might get a crunch of Shadow’s snack.

Honestly, probably doesn’t taste too bad, as odd of a combination that is.

#THANK YOU FOR SENDING THESE IN #I LOVE THEM #➺ anon #➺ inbox #➺ inbox imagines #shadow the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow x reader

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cripplecharacters · 2 months ago

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Hi! I was wondering, are crutches a viable temporary way for someone who's lost a leg and doesn't have access to a prosthetic to get around?

I'm working on a post-apocalyptic story, where one of the main characters is bitten in the leg by (essentially) a zombie. In this universe, quick enough amputation is the only way to stop the infection from spreading, and naturally she's like "yeah I'd much rather lose a leg than be a zombie," so that's what they do.

But, because of the setting and the fact that they have to keep moving, they're going to have to gather the materials to rig up a prosthetic over time, and she's definitely the kind of person who who wouldn't want to stay confined to the van they're traveling in, so I was thinking they could more quickly DIY a pair of crutches for her to get around for short periods until they can figure out a prosthetic and/or find a wheelchair somewhere. Would this work, or is no leg at all too different from having an injured but present leg for crutches to work?

Hey, you're totally good. Crutches are one of the most common mobility aids used by (unilateral) amputees, especially those who aren't able to access/afford a prosthesis. Some people use them for years and decades.

Just be aware that forearm crutches are generally more comfortable than underarm ones and that (usable) prosthetics are very complicated to make, especially if she's an above the knee amputee. A prosthetic that's actually usable would have to be made for her measurements - if it's going to feel off, she will have issues. Learning how to use a prosthetic is also a difficult process, especially if you don't have some sort of physical therapist helping you (which I assume would be the case here), it's not as easy as just putting a prosthetic on. So even if she does manage to acquire a fitting prosthesis, she might need to keep using her crutches.

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

#mod sasza #anonymous #crutches #prosthetics

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koboldfactory · 1 month ago

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hey, i just wanted to say that ur posts that talk abt being trans have been pretty big in helping me to discover my own identity. i wanted to thank u for that.

i’m in a situation where the only way i can access hrt is by seeing a certain therapist, but my parents are trying to prevent me from seeing her at all (they know i’m trans, just in massive denial). i currently do not rly have access to money in a way that would get me around this issue. do u have any advice or is this something i’m gonna have to figure out on my own?

Depending on the state you live in (if you live in the US) many clinics have programs that aid you financially if you don’t have insurance or make less than a certain amount of money. Keep an eye out for that when looking at places, and! Find an informed consent clinic for getting your gender affirming care. I think planned parenthood is a common one but it’s not what I go to. The doctor I go to is an informed consent clinic and I don’t have insurance or much money and it took one appointment to get my bloodwork and prescription and it only cost $20 and my meds cost less than that every time I get them each month. Idk how old you are though and if that affects these things if you’re under 18 (since you mentioned your parents actively trying to stop you).

I didn’t figure out I was trans until I was in my 20s and waited until I moved away from my parents to start transitioning but that was because they didn’t know then and it was what made me feel the most safe at the time. So maybe other people with similar past situations as the anon here could weigh in? Hope any of this was helpful to you and I’m wishing you luck.

#koboldasks

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shegatsby · 2 months ago

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Could you write for Hannibal? Maybe x fem reader who suffers from night terrors. Hannibal is her therapist who offers to watch her through the night for 'medical purposes' (letting her stay at his place) and she wakes up crying for comfort? You can add whatever you like x ty.

A/N: Hi guys! I really like the idea of this request so thank you. I really love writing about Hannibal, I feel like I'm carrying the dead fandom like Sam is carrying Frodo lol ❤️

Warnings: Mention of killing.

‘’Do you think this will work?’’ you asked looking up at his dark eyes, his hands were in his pockets, he had a small smile, ‘’Haven’t I proven myself as your psychiatrist so many times?’’ he asked and leaned to get your bags, how he wished to be more than your psychiatrist…

‘’Please, come in.’’ he moved away from the front door and let you in. The entire house’s floors were dark wood, the entrance halls had dark red wall paper, you hanged your coat on the hanger and closed the door behind you. He led you upstairs to your new room, It was the opposite of his room, the guest room had a queen sized bed, and its own bathroom, the window looked at his backyard. He placed the bags on the floor near the wardrobe, ‘’I’ll leave you to it. I’ll make us lunch, it is my off day today so I can explain my plan for your condition in full detail.’’ He smiled again and left you alone, he was cheerier than usual which made you startled. You had been seeing Doctor Hannibal Lecter for the past five months, every week. You were suffering from night terrors and thanks to his methods you were healing, however these past few weeks were trying you. One call from your father and you started to had the terrors again. Of course you haven’t mentioned this to him, just said that you have been having trouble of sleeping.

Once you settled you went downstairs to the kitchen, a soft classical music was playing through his small speakers on the wall, he was making sandwiches, humming to the tune. As he turned he saw you, ‘’Oh, there you are. I’m almost done.’’

‘’Need any help?’’ you asked eagerly, he stopped for a second, ‘’You can make coffee for us.’’ Seeing him so domestic was something you had imagined for so many times and now you could experience it first hand, he was so comfortable in his own environment, ‘’Of course.’’

Together you worked in harmony, once you were both finished you sat on the counter by the bar stools, enjoying each others’ company.

‘’So,’’ he began, ‘’My door is the opposite of yours so I can hear you if you have terrors, I’ll immediately come to your aid, be sure of that, however..’’ he paused, making you alert, you already felt like burden. ‘’I want you to be honest with me Y/N,’’ his eyes searching for something on your face. ‘’You didn’t have terrors for a long time. Why recently?’’

He crossed his arms, leaning on the counter. ‘’No reason.’’ You smiled but it didn’t reach your eyes, ‘’Y/N..’’ he sighed, looking stern, one could see the dominant aura he had, you leaned back, there was no tricking him, he was a psychiatrist after all. ‘’It’s just,’’ you began, took a sip from your coffee, suddenly you had no taste. ‘’My father called few weeks ago.’’

Hannibal knew the situation with you and your father. He was an abuser and he was the reason why your mother died, although the police couldn’t find enough evidence so he didn’t get life in prison but only 10 years.

‘’What did he say?’’ he asked curious, if that man was outside Hannibal would’ve already taken care of him but he was behind bars.

‘’He said that they were going to release him in a few weeks and he wants to see him. I hung up immediately.’’

‘’I understand.’’

Hannibal’s mind was secretly making a plan for your father. His day had already come.

First week went smoothly, no incident happened and they grew closer with each day. Every morning you woke up earlier than him and started breakfast, first day he said you didn’t have to but you said you liked cooking for people that you cared about, after breakfast you sent him off to his work, it became like a ritual, you would walk to the door with him and wave at him as he got into his car, he would honk for one time before he disappears.

Hannibal was at his office, Will came for a visit to talk about a recent case. As they were talking and having a glass of wine Hannibal got a text from you, he unlocked his phone to see it; ‘’Hey, can you get some cheese on your way home? See you soon. ❤’’

Will looked at Hannibal for a second, ‘’Are you smiling at your phone?’’ his question brought Hannibal back to reality, yes he was smiling. ‘’It’s Y/N.’’ he simply replied, Will was his most trusted friend so he knew some things about you but of course he didn’t know that you were currently living with him.

Later, he got some cheese and headed home, before living with her Hannibal never looked forward to go home, now he had a reason.

‘’I’m home.’’ He exclaimed as he walked in, he could hear your voice, yelling over the phone and he cautiously approached to the living room, your back was turned to him and you were shaking. ‘’How dare you contacting me after what you did?! Never call me again or I swear to god I’ll hire a man to kill you!’’ and you hung up, your last sentence piqued his interest and got him excited but he had to think about it later, now you were on the floor shaking. He ran to you, ‘’I’m here sweet heart,’’ he hugged you, smelling his cologne made you somewhat feel safer than usual but you couldn’t control your body, ‘’Shh, I got you.’’

As he hugged you on the floor and kissed your head his mind was already making a plan to kill your father. You had wished for a man to kill him and your wish is granted.

Thank you for reading. :)

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thegreymarveljedi · 4 months ago

Text

Surprise for You

(Wrecker x Reader)

Here is a story that came to me out of the blue, super happy and fluffy with some spice thrown in. Why not right? I love Wrecker’s character, he’s a giant teddy bear with a heart of gold and a winning smile.

All of the bad batch deserve to be happy and that’s how this one shot goes. Tech is alive in this one too, if you’ve read my other stories you know why, cause I also love him and he didn’t deserve to die. This is a post! Tantiss story so they’re on Pabu living their best lives.

(Divider done by @snotbuggle )

Warnings: FLUFF, SMUTT, lingerie, teasing, p in v sex, size! Kink, breeding! kink, nipple play, rough sex, slow/fast pace, oral f! Receiving, pet names, cum play, over stimulation, multiple orgasms, cumflation

Words: 6.6+K (I’m not sorry)

“Mesh’la! I’m home and I’ve got dinner for us!”

“Sounds good honey! I’ll be right out okay?”

“Take your time ner sarad,” Wrecker spoke as he placed the fresh vegetables and fish on the counter in their kitchen. He smiled contently at the little home they had built together. It was a cozy place where he could relax and not have to look over his shoulder for fear of danger. Big enough for him to fit comfortably and have plenty of manoeuvring room but small enough not to feel overwhelming and uncomfortable.

Wrecker and his brothers had been living on Pabu for close to a full year now, making their own way and helping the citizens of the island as best they could. He himself had become a fisherman, going out on the boat daily and catching what he could. He found that he enjoyed the serenity that fishing brought, the cool breeze off the ocean making him feel like he was receiving a very nice hug. The other fishermen who went with him enjoyed listening to his stories as well as his joy when he’d catch a big fish, his happiness and excitement contagious.

Hunter had become a woodworker, making things for the island and helping to build things when needed. He was skilled with his hands, helping to build new homes and improve currents ones. He had found such peace in the work, using his enhancements for crafting and various carpentry jobs.

Crosshair had made his living as a farmer, growing fruits and vegetables and selling them at the local market. It had taken him a few weeks to truly feel comfortable being around the people especially after loosing his hand. But slowly and surely he came out of his shell. He became a new person; less snarky, more relaxed and a lot happier.

Tech had become a doctor and a therapist, working in the island clinic along side (Y/N). He had wanted to do something more with his vast knowledge after Tantiss. He was determined to stay away from the fighting but still wanted to aid his traumatized brothers. He found peace in helping, always being there for any clone that Rex and Echo brought to the island.

(Y/N) had been the Bad batch’s Jedi medic since just after the start of the war. She had been so soft spoken and kind to the batch. Always there to lend a hand and patch them up after difficult missions.

She and Wrecker had gotten together during the middle of the war, both shy in showing their love for one another but it was meant to be. After everything they had been through, together and as a squad, they deserved to be happy.

Wrecker had proposed right after Tantiss, not wanting to waste another minute of time without calling (Y/N) his wife. She had said yes without a second thought and everyone was ecstatic, Omega most of all. She saw (Y/N) as a mother figure and couldn’t wait to have some part in the wedding.

She had insisted on helping with every step she could, even learning to make dresses if she needed to. Everyone had laughed at her enthusiasm, happy that she was so excited.

Wrecker sat on the couch, reclined with his head resting on the back of it and a smile on his face, reflecting on the past year. Life was good now, Tantiss far behind them. He was content and his brothers were happy which is all he could ask for. He had a beautiful wife, a great home and loving people surrounding him. It was all too good to be true, but it was his reality now.

“Jariler?”

Wrecker was snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of the voice, turning his head to the side a little at the call of his nickname, though he was not prepared for what greeted him. His eyes went wide as saucers, sitting up a little at the sight of his wife in the doorway to their bedroom.

(Y/N) was wearing the most gorgeous silk lingerie, red in colour, paired with a sexy and seductive long black robe. Both pieces of clothing extenuated her body, hips and breasts both looking evening bigger than normal. Her legs were shimmering in the dying light of the day that cascaded through the window, her face lighting up in a golden hue.

“Woah,” was all Wrecker could think to respond with, all other words and thoughts leaving his head as he stared at his wife. She smiled shy at him, adjusting the robe a little bit and doing a little spin, causing the robe to fan out around her.

“Do you like it?” She asked and Wrecker just kept staring at her, his mouth open and eyes wide. He had no words available to him to describe how amazing she looked, her beauty unmatched by anything he had ever seen. She began to fidget a little more before Wrecker finally snapped out of his shock and stood up quickly, making a beeline for (Y/N) and wrapping his arms around her. He picked her up and spun her around making her laugh, his own joyous chuckle leaking out into the air.

“Mesh’la. You look absolutely stunning in this,” Wrecker said as he placed his wife back on her feet slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. She smiled shyly up at him, her hands resting on his shoulders as she looked at him. Wrecker too another moment to admire her before he tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, bulling her cheek once he did. She leaned into his large palm, feeling the warmth radiating off his hand.

At that moment it was just them and nothing else, the world seemingly drowned out around them. The soft sounds of the ocean could be heard and the moon-yo’s too but nothing else existed in their home. Wrecker took (Y/N)’s hand and gave her a spin, resting his hand on her hip as she completed the 360 turn. (Y/N) smiled and placed one of her hands on Wrecker’s shoulder again, the other finding his other hand and holding it.

Wrecker clued into what she wanted and lifted there joined hands together, beginning to sway with his beloved in his arms just like they had done on their wedding day. They had no music in the moment but neither of them seemed to care much, and in the dying light of dusk, they danced together in their living room, content just to be in each others arms.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum ner cyare,” Wrecker whispered softly as he leaned down and placed his forehead against (Y/N)’s. She smiled and returned the words, closing her eyes and allowing the last of the days warmth to envelop her along with Wreckers. She closed her eyes contently, beginning to hum a small tune as their only song to dance too.

Wrecker smiled and moved them around the living room a little more, twirling (Y/N) around and watching as the robe fanned out around her once more. It was mesmerizing to watch, the fabric soft and luscious, making her look like a vision from the maker. Wrecker pulled her back into his arms, slowing their movements down until they were swaying in place again, smiling like idiots at one another. They stayed there for another moment before Wrecker let go of her hand, moving to place it against her other hip.

She smiled as a small shiver ran through her body, Wrecker’s hands moving to be inside the robe she wore, running them up and down her sides teasingly. He squeezed her hips before moving his hands down to ass, giving it a firm squeeze making (Y/N) gasp.

“Wrecker,” she whispered to him, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. He had a mischievous smirk on his face as he continued to fondle her behind, pulling his wife impossibly closer to him.

“Yes my love?” Wrecker replied his eyes roaming over her chest. He was fixated on her breasts, the material of her lingerie framing them perfectly. It made them look so round and perfect, her nipples poking through the fabric as another shiver wracked her body.

(Y/N)’s body arched into Wrecker’s touch as he moved his hands upward, running his thumbs over her perked nipples. She whined at the feeling, her legs beginning to shake as Wrecker teased her. She had worn the lingerie to entice him, though the amount of love he had shown her had been a nice addition to the sexy night she was hoping to have. She keened again as Wrecker continued to play with her breasts through the fabric of her bra, the words she had on her mind evaporating before they could leave her lips.

“What is it net sarad?” Wrecker asked again, his smirk only growing wider as he watched (Y/N)’s nipples harden even more. He knew what he was doing to her, playing her body like a well practiced instrument with dexterity and ease. (Y/N) keened again, her hands finding some purchase on Wreckers biceps, squeezing the firm muscles as a way of grounding.

“Need you Wrecker… please,” she moaned out as Wrecker gave her breasts a squeeze grinning as she threw her head back. He knew what he was doing to her but he also knew what she was doing, he outfit of choice not just something casual she would usually wear around the house.

“Is that what this outfit was for? Get me all worked up so I would fuck ya mesh’la?” Wrecker said huskily and (Y/N) nodded, not even trying to deny her intentions. She could never lie to her gentle giant husband, Wrecker being able to read her like time bomb instruction manual. Wrecker chuckled darkly at his wife, pulling away almost fully to gaze over her gorgeous body again.

“I could devour you cyar’ika. Make you cum on my tongue again and again and again,” he said and pulled her back into his, burying his face in her neck. (Y/N) let out a sinful moan as Wrecker bit down, sucking a mark into her flesh as a way to claim her as his.

“But,” he said and pulled back, admiring his handy work on her neck. She stood there with glazed eyes, legs shaking and an adorably dopey grin on her face, though it disappeared when Wrecker pulled away fully.

“B-but what?” She asked shakily and reached for him, afraid that something was wrong.

“We need to eat dinner first! I don’t want these ingredients to go to waste,” he said with a smile, one that told (Y/N) that he was genuine. She titled her head to the right and tried to hold back a small sigh of frustration, the mood of their previous activities almost completely vanishing. She nodded and went to turn away, ready to walk back to their bedroom and get changed into other clothes.

Before (Y/N) got three full step away from him, Wrecker let out a playful roar and came at her from behind, picking her up and spinning her around again. He laughed at the yelp she let out, her body tensing before she relaxed her feeling meeting the ground again. Wrecker pulled (Y/N) against him, grinding his still semi hard erection against her plump behind, reaching his hands around her body to grab at her breasts again. She moaned at both sensations her head falling back against his chest as he ravaged her body and neck, peppering nips and kisses wherever he could reach.

“You didn’t think I was serious did you?” Wrecker whispered in her ear, his voice deep and teasing. (Y/N) nodded and curled her arms up to hold Wreckers forearms, his hands still playing with her breasts.

“O-of course I thought y-ohh, you were serious,” she replied quietly, hearing Wrecker chuckle deeply.

“I would never do that to you cyar’ika. You’ve got me harder than durasteel right now with how sexy you look,” he said huskily, voice dripping with the promise to take her to bed and fuck her good.

“Mmm, Wrecker. Honey please.”

“You go get comfy in our bed ner Sarad. I’m going to put the fish and vegetables away quickly,” he said and (Y/N) nodded, practically sprinting back to their bedroom when Wrecker released her, looking forward to their night of fun to come.

Wrecker chuckled as he watched his beloved wife retreat to their room, ready to fuck her brains out all night long. He quickly followed through with his previously stated task, putting away his catch of the day along with the vegetables in their big fridge before he too made it to the bedroom.

As he got closer to the room he could see a faint light coming from it, a sweet smell that he somehow didn’t catch before wafting out. When he entered, he was greeted by the soft smell of berries and vanilla, incense burning on the dresser and tea candles lighting the room in a soft glow. Everything else had been set up as well, their usual canteens of water and a pile of snacks for after their love making as well as clean sheets and towels waiting to be used.

(Y/N) was sprawled out in the middle of the bed, robe now discarded and hung up as to not get ruined and her lingerie set still remaining on her body. They made eye contact as Wrecker entered the room, both looking over each other with hungry eyes. Wrecker let out a teasing growl, his Adam’s apple rippling and his muscles tensing. (Y/N)’s eyes roamed over her husbands frame, his body large and intimidating to most but soft and welcoming to her. She was practically stripping him with her eyes, yearning to feel his hands on her once again. Wrecker was doing the same, hungry eyes roaming over his wife’s perfect body, imagining all the things that he could do to her.

His eyes focused on her stomach, the soft supple flesh something he always enjoyed playing with. It wasn’t a very common thing but Wrecker loved it, running his hands over (Y/N)’s torso, feeling her soft skin and squishy stomach. Then his mind began wondering even more, to the possibility of other things. He imagined what she would look like big and round, her belly protruding and swollen with their children. Wrecker let the thoughts overwhelm him, imagining having a full house of little ones running around, seeing (Y/N), himself and even his brothers doting on their kids.

Wrecker was pulled out of his thoughts by a gentle hand on his cheek, flinching at the unexpected contact. He hadn’t even noticed (Y/N) get up from the bed, her hand warm as it rested on his face. He looked down into her eyes, her (E/C) pools conveying an aura of slight confusion.

“What is it Wrecker? What’s wrong,” she asked quietly, running her thumb over his cheek and underneath his eye. It was then he realized that there were tears streaming down his face slowly, the thoughts of what could be making him emotional. He lifted his hand to hold (Y/N)’s that rested in his cheek, his eyes never leaving hers this time.

“Was just thinkin’ bout our future. Our life together and how happy you make me,” he said, leaning down and connecting their foreheads together in a keldabe kiss. (Y/N) smiled and closed her eyes at the gesture, content to give Wrecker a few moments to explain or to just stay put.

“You make me happy too Wrecker. I’m so lucky to have you in my arms,” (Y/N) replied, moving her body impossibly closer to his large frame, soaking up the natural heat he exuded.

“I can just picture you all big and round, swollen with our ad’ikas inside you,” Wrecker let slip his thoughts, his mind wondering to the future his subconscious mind had conjured up, feeling nothing but love in his heart as he watched his children run around and laugh with his wife following lot to far behind. He was once again snapped out of his thoughts by a soft groan, (Y/N) tapping into his thoughts to see what he was seeing. It was beautiful, so many of them running around and the thought of how they got there made her knees weak and her pussy wet.

They both blinked out of the fantasy together, meeting each other’s eyes once more before Wrecker picked her up with ease, her legs wrapping securely around his waist. He backed them both up to the wall, one that they purposely left completely bare for nights like this. Their lips met in a fiery kiss, the imaginary world they had seen fuelling their already stoked desires. Wreckers hands were on (Y/N)’s behind in a heart beat, fondling her rounded globes and kneeling the soft flesh. She whined into their kiss, his hands feeling immaculate as they groped her ass.

“Honey,” (Y/N) moaned, breaking the kiss as Wrecker pulled away and buried his face in her neck, nipping and sucking marks into it. She giggled slightly before sighing as he reached her ticklish spot, sucking a mark onto it before blowing a raspberry to the spot.

“Wrecker!” She laughed as he chuckled, planting more little kisses all over her neck and face. Her smile was wide, meeting her eyes and creating crows feet at the sides. Her hands wrapped around his neck, her legs squeezing his waist and grinding herself against his front.

“Kriff, mesh’la that feels so good,” Wrecker said, his eyes closing as he savoured the feeling of his wife grinding on him. One of his hands moved from her ass and instead took hold of her wrists, pinning them up above her head. The new angle elongated her torso, her breasts bouncing as her core was somehow placed more firmly against his crotch.

Wreckers eyes found (Y/N)’s chest again, her breast practically in his face with the position they were in. Her nipples were hard, the little pebbles poking through the fabric of her bra. Wrecker growled and dove forward again, this time hiding his face between her boobs before turning his head and taking one of her purt nipple into his mouth. (Y/N) moaned at the sensation, Wrecker’s talented tongue and the fabric of the bra working together to bring her so much pleasure. Wrecker’s other hand gravitated up towards her other breast, taking the pert little bud between in large fingers and rolling it.

“Fuck baby that feels so good,” (Y/N) moaned her head thrown back as Wrecker lavished her chest with attention and affection. Wrecker growled against her, moving back up her body to her neck once more. He laid a few more bite marks around her neck as his hand continued to tweak one of her breast. The feeling made her grind down even harder on Wrecker’s crotch, chasing her release already.

Wrecker must have understood her body language like he always does, lifting his thigh and pushing it against the wall, effectively having (Y/N) ride his thigh. She groaned is Wreckers good ear, feeling his thigh tense as she begin to grind on it.

“That’s it mesh’la, grind your pussy on my thigh. You like it don’t you?” He teased, not allowing her a response as he sealed his lips against hers. All (Y/N) could do was moan into the kiss and she sped up her pace, her high right there. Wrecker indulged her, tensing and relaxing his thigh over and over until (Y/N) broke the kiss and cried out.

“Wreckerrr!” She moaned as she was thrust over the edge, her orgasm hitting her like a tone of bricks. Wrecker smirked as he assisted her in riding it out, slowly dragging his thigh out from between her legs and helping her to set her feet on the ground. (Y/N)’s knees buckled, almost collapsing forward had it not been for Wrecker holding her up. She giggled dazedly up at her husband, her post orgasmic state making her feel light and airy.

“Don’t tell me that’s all you have in you tonight cyar’ika,” Wrecker whispered, letting go of her arms and instead wrapping his around her waist. (Y/N) frantically shook her head, eyes meeting Wrecker’s as she came back to reality again.

“No way am I done. You haven’t filled me up yet,” she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Wrecker groaned at the filthy words that left her lips, his mind going back to the fantasy he had envisioned when he first walked into their bedroom. His reserve and resolve crumbled as he picked her up by her hips, effortlessly tossing her on their bed. She bounced on the bed and giggled, sitting up on her elbows and letting her head fall back between her shoulders as Wrecker covered her body with his own.

“Gonna make you feel so good cyare. Gonna fill that tight pussy up till you’re you can’t take anymore,” Wrecker said making (Y/N) whimper. The promise behind his words was something she would hold him too, wanting to feel every inch of him inside of her. He was big, and she loved that about him, his size making her feel safe all while giving her an insane amount of pleasure. His body dwarfed her own, making her feel small but loved. He dove back in and kissed down her body, leaving love bites wherever there was exposed skin as he made his way down to her lower lips. They were hidden from his gaze by her beautiful red panties, the lace fabric teasing him as he looked on.

“These look so beautiful on you ner sarad. Shame I’m gonna have to take ‘em off ya,” Wrecker said, slowly trailing his hands down to body to the waist band of her underwear. There was no protest from (Y/N) as she lifted her hips, giving Wrecker more room to remove her undergarments. He did so with delicate hands kissing down her smooth legs as he went. Once he had her panties completely off he brought them to his noes, taking a large inhale.

She always smelled so sweet to him, her natural lubricant something he was enamoured with no matter how odd it sounded. His eyes closed as he took it all before throwing the panties aside and spreading his wife’s gorgeous legs. She didn’t resist the attention, watching as Wrecker exposed her pussy to his eyes. He groaned, not waiting another second before going head first between her legs, licking a long strip from her hole to her clit, pulling a long loud moan from (Y/N)’s lips.

“FUckkk.” Her voice was like a proton torpedo to his ears, the sound making a shutter run through him and straight to his cock. He was already rock hard but the sounds he was pulling from her made him twitch. He continued to devour her pussy, alternating between sucking on her clit and fucking her with his tongue. He was in heaven at this moment, moving her legs so they rested over his broad shoulders. This position gave him more access to her pussy, moving his left hand down to rub her clit as he sucked at her pussy.

“Make me feel so good Wreck. Fuck I love it when you fuck my pussy with your tongue,” (Y/N) moaned, looking down at Wrecker as his eyes looked back at her, his head not moving from its place between her thighs. His fingers and mouth switched places, his lips capturing her clit as he eased a finger into her. He groaned as her pussy swallowed his finger effortlessly, feeling her clench even if he hadn’t done much of anything to her yet.

“Haven’t even stretched you open and you’re already tightening round my finger,” he groaned against her clit, the vibration sending shockwave through her spine.

“Can’t help it big guy, you make me feel so go-“ her finally word was cut off as Wrecker entered two more fingers in at once, pumping them in slowly until he was up to his knuckle.

“Nghh Wrecker baby please, please I need you,” she moaned, falling back into the pillows and wreathing around. Her hips bucked up to meet Wreckers tongue and fingers, drawing her pleasure out.

“Gotta open you up first baby, can’t have you hurting yourself on my cock,” Wrecker teased, beginning to move his fingers in and out of her tight opening faster. (Y/N) screamed, tossing her head from side to side and Wrecker drew moan after moan out of her. Her legs began to twitch on his shoulders, hands coming up to cover her mouth but was stopped by Wrecker taking hold of her wrists.

“No you don’t sweet girl. I want to hear every sound that comes outta that filthy little mouth of yours,” he growled, curling his fingers against her g-spot making keen and moan loudly. His words set her body aflame, his fingers, his mouth, him, making her come undone for the second time that evening.

“Ahhhhh~” Her hips bucked as her orgasm overwhelmed her, key shaking and spasming with the force of it. Wrecker held her hips still as she twitched, eyes closed as she continued to convulse. Wrecker smirked as he watched his wife come undone, proud of himself for what he could accomplish. Wrecker didn’t hold back as he thrusted his fingers into (Y/N)’s still clenching walls, making her yell in surprise before another scream left her lips.

“W-w-wreckerrrrr.” Her voice was broken as Wrecker continued to finger fuck her again, scissoring his fingers against her velvety insides. His goal was to make her come at least one more time before he impaled her on his large cock, not wanting to hurt her. It didn’t take long for him to accomplish this goal and (Y/N)’s back arched, a pornographic sound leaving her lips as she exploded.

Wrecker braced himself against the bed as the force of her orgasm forced his fingers out of her dripping pussy, her juices exploding all over the sheets and himself. Wrecker watched awe as (Y/N) squirt, her pussy opening and closing as she panted heavily. (Y/N) opened her eyes to look at Wrecker, watching at he took his fingered into his mouth and sucked them clean of her cum. (Y/N)’s eyes rolled back, her body still twitching with the feeling of her orgasm and the over stimulation.

“That was beautiful cyar’ika. Such a good girl for me,” Wrecker said, listening as (Y/N) huffed out a laugh at his words.

“Fuck,” was all she could get out as wrecker chuckled and made his way up her body. He kissed along her torso, feeling the thin layer of sweat that kissed her skin. When he reached her lips again, Wrecker captured them in a loving kiss, one too delicate for the service he had just provided her with. (Y/N) brought her hands up to Wrecker face, holding his cheeks as she deepened the kiss, tasting herself in his lips.

When they pulled away from one another, (Y/N) found nothing but love and adoration in Wrecker’s gaze, his eyes glazed over as he looked at her.

“That was something else my love. So fucking sexy,” Wrecker said making (Y/N) smile.

“I’m glad you thought so Wreck,” she said, smoothing her hand down to the top of his shirt before giving it a tug, “but I really really need you to fuck me.” She emphasizes her words with another tug to his shirts, needing to feel his skin against hers.

Wrecker couldn’t argue with her, wanting to feel her tight heat wrapped around his engorged cock. Wrecker pulled away from her completely and made quick work of stripping off his shirt, tossing it somewhere in the room as his belt and pants hit the ground next. (Y/N)’s mouth was watering at the sight of her husband, naked and dripping just for her. Wrecker was a gorgeous man, body sculpted as if he by the maker himself, his cock hanging heavy between his muscular thighs, the tip angry and red, dripping with precum.

(Y/N) groaned at the sight, taking in everything about Wrecker even if she had seen it many times before. His size always amazed her, the length and girth of his cock something that always made her pant. She sat and quickly took good of Wrecker’s large appendage, stroking it as best she could with both hands. The gentle giant groaned the sensation, his head falling back as he enjoyed the attention from his wife. Her hands were the perfect size for his cock, both hands encompassing him. (Y/N) lifted his cock to her mouth, licking a strip up the veiny side before placing a kiss to the swollen tip.

“Fuck mesh’la. Do that again,” Wrecker said, his hands making their way into (Y/N)’s hair. His wife obliged his wishes, repeating her previous ministration before taking the tip of Wrecker’s cock into her mouth fully. The he groaned at the sensation, tightening his grip on her hair but not pushing her any further. From her position, (Y/N) flickered her eyes up to look at Wrecker, watching his face contort into one of sheer bliss. She smiled around him before closing her eyes, hollowing her cheeks, and taking a deep breath before taking more of him into her mouth.

Wrecker moaned a loud uncontrolled moan, his cock twitching in (Y/N)’s mouth. It felt so good, it away felt like heaven when his wife had her warm mouth wrapped around him. One of her hands left his cock and instead, made its way to his heavy sack, his balls full and ready to combust. She held them gentle in her hands, knowing how sensitive they could be especially when love making. She could feel Wrecker’s hold on her hair tighten ever so slightly more, his breath coming out in short pants.

“Love it when you suck me off cyar’ika. Love the feelin of my dick in your mouth, feels so good,” he praised, his words going straight to (Y/N)’s cunt. She moaned around him with in turn made wrecker groan again, forcing her mouth a little further down his cock. (Y/N) choked in surprise before steeling herself and her confidence, taking as much of Wreckers as she could. It was a little easier with no gag reflex to hold her back, but Wrecker was so big it was still a struggle at times.

(Y/N) gave Wreckers sack a gentle squeeze , rolling them in the palm of her hand as she sucked her husband’s cock. She moved up and down his cock, his hands slightly guiding her movement to help her as she tightened her lips. Wreckers resolve was crumbling, his legs beginning to tremble at the tremendous feeling of his wife giving him head.

“Mmm ad’ika, such a pretty mouth on ya. So good at sucking my cock. You love it don’t you sweet girl, deepthroating my dick so far it bulges in your neck.” Wrecker’s words were filthy, emphasizing his last point by wrapping one of his hands around her neck very gently. She could feel the way his cock protruded out while deep in her throat, the realization only adding to her pleasure and his.

“Fuck Mesh’la,” Wrecker shouted, feeling himself teetering on the edge of his orgasm. But he couldn’t do it yet, not in her mouth, he needed to be inside her pussy. Wrecker held (Y/N)’s hair and pulled her off his cock, a few strings of saliva connecting them together. (Y/N) whined in protest, already missing the feeling of him inside her mouth.

“Why’d you stopppp,” she whimpered, Wreckers deep throaty chuckle making her pout. He spoke no words as he lifted her up and flipped her over, depositing her on the bed on her hands and knees. She let out a short “ahhh” of surprise, not having been fully ready for the move.

Wrecker slotted himself behind her, grinding himself against her plump round ass cheeks. He bent over (Y/N)’s body, kissing up her back to between her shoulder blades, moving his hands up and down her side. He took a second to unclasp her bra finally, tossing it aside before bringing his hands around to grab at her breasts again. (Y/N) sighed, the feeling of Wrecker’s big warm hands on her chest something she would never tire of.

“Ready for me mesh’la? Ready to take my big cock in your tight pussy,” Wrecker whispered in his wife’s ear, feeling a full body shudder run through her as she nodded.

“Please Wrecker. Please honey, fill me up. Need you inside me please,” she pleaded, wiggling her ass again his crotch. Wrecker groaned in her ear, pulling back to line himself up with her cunt. He teasingly ran his tip over her slit and down to her clit, collecting her essence to use as lube. She moaned at the feeling, falling forward and burying her face in the pillows. With this position, her ass was in the air, ready and waiting for Wrecker to take her. He got the message quickly, taking a deep breath, moving his hands to her hips and lining himself up with her.

Slowly he sunk his girthy cock into we wet waiting cavern, moaning lowly as she basically swallowed him. (Y/N) gripped the sheets of their bed, burying her face in the pillows while trying to keep from screaming at how good it felt to have Wrecker inside her.

“Fuck ad’ika, you take me so well. So stretched out around me,” Wrecker said, sinking a few more inches in before coming to a halt. (Y/N) whined again, fisting the sheets as Wrecker stilled inside of her. She turned her head to look over her shoulder, watching as Wrecker took deep labouring breaths, eyes closed.

“You okay big guy?” (Y/N)’s voice was teasing even if she was out of breath, wiggling her hips to entice her husband. Wreckers hands tighten on her hips like vice, his gaze hard but his lips pulled up in a sinful smirk. He said nothing in retaliation to (Y/N)’s words but instead, thrusted the rest of his cock into her making her scream.

“FUCKK!”

“That feel good an’edee?”

“So gooddd. Please move please please please,” (Y/N)’s words were jumbled together as Wrecker caved and gave her what she wanted, what they both wanted. He thrusted into her tight heat slowly, drawing out the sensation of her smooth walls against his veiny cock. They moaned together as Wrecker fucked into her, slowly, wantingly, hands holding her love handles and using them to his advantage.

He picked up the pace, thrusting into her wet walls faster making her jolt and groan into the sheets again. His balls slapped against he clit, the feeling eccentric and even more pleasurable than before. She couldn’t contain her sounds of pleasure as Wrecker ravaged her pussy, impaling her with his impressive length.

“Fuck Wrecker, please fill me up. Fill me with your cum. Pleaseeee,” (Y/N) pleaded, jerking her hips back to meet Wreckers thrusts. He groaned at the display, tightening his grip on her hips before speeding up his pace relentlessly. The new speed made (Y/N) scream, his cock reaching new points inside her pussy, even pushing on her cervix.

“Oh fuckkkkkk.”

“That feel good ad’ika? Does my big cock feel good inside you?”

(Y/N) could respond as Wrecker fucked the air right out of her lungs, his thrusts taking her breath away with ease. He was close and he could feel that (Y/N) was too, her cunt clenching around him and halting his thrusts momentarily. He leaned over her body dwarfing her with his size and reaching around to grab at her breast again. Using his brute strength, Wrecker lifted (Y/N)’s torso up so that her back rested against his chest. He tweaked her nipples and rolled them between his toe finger and thumb making her moan even more. He began to thrust into her at a rough and brutal pace, skin slapping against skin the only sound to be heard besides pornographic moans.

“Fuck Wrecker! Pleasepleasepleasee!” From here, he looked down to see that her belly was bulging with every thrust of his cock, the sight something that almost sent him over the edge. Wrecker leaned down ever so slightly and nipped at (Y/N)’s ear, growling into it and letting one of his hands travel down her body to where her stomach bulged with his cock.

“Gonna fill you up so much an’edee. Gonna breed this little pussy, toy want that don’t you cyar’ika.”

“YESSS! I want it so bad.”

“Gonna cum so hard inside you that it sticks. Gonna make you all round and swollen with our ad.”

“Wrecker!!” (Y/N) came with a shout of her husbands name, lower lips clenching and pussy convulsing around him. Her whole body twitched with the force of her orgasm, everything around them disappearing. Wrecker moved his other hand down to her clit, furiously rubbing the over sensitive bud to draw out her third orgasm of the night. She screamed again, legs trembling as she squirted for a second time that night, her body going rigid.

Wrecker thrusted a few more time before bending (Y/N) back over and stilling, coming with a shout of her name. He came deep inside her, his cum painting her walls and leaving nothing untouched. She could feel it in her tummy, his cum filling her up just as he promised. She was on cloud nine, so much excitement coursing through her body. Wrecker was panting above her, his dick still twitching with the simulation and the feeling of (Y/N)’s velvet walls enveloping him.

He slowly and carefully shifted their positions, laying on his side and pulling her with him to lay down. He spooned her body, keeping his softening cock inside her for as long as he could. He made good on his promise to breed her, filling her to the brim with his spend.

There were no sounds but that of their joined laboured breathing, both still coming down from ecstasy. (Y/N) lay there still as a door, limbs feeling like jello and not a thought in her head besides,

“Wow.”

“Wow indeed cyare. I don’t think I’ve ever cum that much,” Wrecker whispered, doing his best not to disrupt the blissful atmosphere they had created. (Y/N) let out a chorus of giggles, her brain foggy with pleasure.

“I feel full,” she said in a daze, her hand travelling down to join Wrecker’s on her stomach. She found that her stomach was bloated, a slight bulge present which made her gasp. She turned to look at Wrecker over her shoulder and saw that he was smirking right back at her, pleased with his work.

“I told you an’edee,” he said, nipping at her ear as he felt himself begin to harden again, “gonna breed this little pussy till it takes.”

—————

In my opinion, Wrecker is a big kinky boy who loves to fuck. And no one can change my mind!

Next story is scheduled for January 24th so keep an eye out for it! If you would like to be tagged in it, comment down below or on my ask page!

(Tags: @rinksu-no-joo @maniacalbooper @teesy738 )

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llamagoddessofficial · 1 year ago

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I have a question related to the prison au. Sorry if this has been asked before but what if Mc didn’t com in as a nurse but rather a therapist. Like the jail’s first therapist and it was all mc’s idea because Mc thinks that if the prisoners have more of am emotional outlet they won’t be as aggressive to one another and will become better people/monsters after they get out. And Mc wants to make a difference for them because Mc knows that their jail life isn’t the best. Mc can tell sans is trying to manipulate them, and isn’t affected much by reds attempts to charm her as much, and Mc can see threw skill’s scary and can understand him more and teaches him how to communicate how he is feeling better.

Oooooo...

Sans: Unlike pretty much all her other counterparts, this Mc is onto Sans' shit from the very start. Originally assigned to him as a mere formality, she immediately clocks that this motherfucker is much scarier than anyone has noticed before. His 'therapy sessions' are more like mental chess matches between two very perceptive people. Her aim is to genuinely try to treat him, genuinely try to get to the bottom of why he's turned into this terrifying mastermind, and perhaps even help him; there's not much else she can do. No one will believe her. Sans knows that, too.

Sans loves it. At last- someone who really, actually understands him, and the monster (not Monster) he's become. Not someone from his past lingering endlessly on who he used to be, not another pawn buying his 'harmless' persona. He loves having someone who is finally, finally in on his game. He was already fascinated with her from the start, this just makes it so much more intense- he loves being able to drop the mask. He loves the challenge of having to find ways to manipulate that are outside of his usual routes. He loves her, she's all he lives for.

She wants to help him? Cute. He'll show her what the world is really like. Then they can be puppetmasters together.

Red: She's assigned to Red to 'help' with his constant violent outbursts, after he gets in a particularly brutal fight and has to choose between attending therapy or lengthening his sentence. He's not the first violent offender she's dealt with, and he's definitely not the first flirtatious patient... but he's definitely the first that seems so utterly determined to charm her. She's firm on not breaching her ethics and she won't allow herself to do anything more than just get along well with him.

Mc actually makes a big impact on his mental health. The instinct to open up to her is a hard one to ignore, given his affection for her and their great rapport, and Red just likes her more and more with every issue she helps him work through. He doesn't like that she absolutely refuses to be with him, and he sees it as more of a challenge than anything.

When he gets out, he'll make sure she knows he's still very interested in some private sessions...

Skull: Giving Skull a therapist kinda feels like putting a band-aid on a completely severed torso. But it was a legal requirement. He cycles through therapists who either immediately refuse to treat him, or get a few days in and THEN refuse to treat him. Mc is just another in a long line of therapists that the prison expects to see rolling in.

... Except... he's so good for her. He tries to talk, he's calm and never bites, he's highly engaged with the tasks she gets him to do with her, he quickly notices that the better he does the more they make her spend time with him. The less violent he is, the more she talks to him in that lovely soft voice. Anything for more of her voice.

... Issues arise when Mc starts to understand that Skull has developed feelings for her. Deep feelings. He's always trying to kiss, nuzzle or hold her- it feels unethical to keep treating him. But it's also a well established fact that her presence in his life has probably saved several lives. If she tried to tell the prison that she didn't want to treat Skull anymore, she'd probably get a response along the lines of "we don't care, just keep him from eating anyone's hands".

She's not really got much of a choice.

#llamagines #prison au #prison therapist au #red: hey baby. i'm real stressed at the moment. you look stressed too.#mc: I don't like where this is going #red: how about we go somewhere private... and come up with a mutual treatment plan....?#mc: Ahah wow that's crazy. Anyway- about your deep-seated fear of commitment?

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dipplinduo · 4 months ago

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Hey!

So here's the thing: I love and am so grateful for this platform - for all of you who follow me, read my stories, and share a collective love for all things dipplinshipping, mintteashipping, and pokemon fandom alike. A primary focus of my account, in fact, is alllllll about fortifying a happy little escape zone where we can all be happy and have fun together.

This post is a rare "not about that" post. I'm gonna keep my personal feelings on this pretty brief, but here's the thing: I've been fucking livid. For awhile. I'm angry and disappointed with world leaders and people in power. And as an American, I'm feeling a lot around our government: its egregiously wealthy stakeholders - who wildly abuse their influence for self-gain - and the corruption that is a hate-motivated, white supremacist, capitalistic agenda. If you live in the US, or even anywhere else, I can promise you this: Your existence and presence is always valid, and is not defined by an executive order. If you follow me or watch my posts from time-to-time, I hope that you can continue to find a positive escape with what I promote here. And I hope you know how much you are loved and valued. Genuinely. Please know these are some free, 24/7 resources avaliable, too: General: National Crisis Line - Call 988 OR: chat at 988lifeline.org* - *Inclusive services for individuals who are deaf/hard of hearing Crisis Text Line - Text "HELLO" to 741741 Free 24/7 crisis support via text for anyone in need. Resources For The LGBTQIA+ Community: Trans Lifeline - translifeline.org Hotline: 877-565-8860 (run by trans people for trans people)

National Center for Transgender Equality - transequality.org Resources on legal rights, ID document changes, and advocacy for transgender individuals.

PFLAG - pflag.org Support groups, crisis intervention, advocacy, and educational resources for LGBTQIA+ individuals and allies.

Sylvia Rivera Law Project - srlp.org Legal aid and advocacy for low-income trans, intersex, and gender non-conforming individuals.

The Trevor Project - thetrevorproject.org

24/7 crisis counselling for LGBTQIA+ Youth (ages 13-24)

Resources For People of Color:

EmbraceRace - embracerace.org Provides resources for people of color, particularly families, to cope with racial trauma and political stress in culturally affirming ways. The Steve Fund - stevefund.org Mental health resources for young people of color LatinoJustice PRLDEF - latinojustice.org Provides legal advocacy and community education for Latinx individuals on voting rights, immigration, and civil rights. Native American Financial Services Association (NAFSA) - nativefinance.org Financial services, resources, and advocacy for Indigenous communities. The Loveland Foundation - thelovelandfoundation.org Offers free or discounted therapy for Black women and girls. Asian Mental Health Collective - asianmhc.org Mental health resources for Asian and Pacific Islander communities Inclusive Therapists - inclusivetherapists.com A therapist directory that centers the needs of marginalized populations

Resources For Immigrants and Undocumented Individuals: Immigrant Legal Resource Center (ILRC) - ilrc.org Provides legal resources and training for immigrants and their advocates.

National Immigration Law Center (NILC) - nilc.org Advocacy for the rights of low-income immigrants.

RAICES (Refugee and Immigrant Center for Education and Legal Services) - raicestexas.org Offers free or low-cost legal services for immigrants and refugees.

Border Angels - borderangels.org Supports undocumented individuals with immigration services and humanitarian aid. Resources Around Abortion: ReproCare Healthline - reprocare.com Hotline: Text "CARE" to 707-827-2273 Emotional support, information, and logistical assistance for people managing abortion care. Access Reproductive Care (ARC) Southeast - arc-southeast.org Provides funding and support for abortion access in the Southeastern U.S., including transportation and lodging assistance. Aid Access - aidaccess.org Telemedicine consultations and abortion pills access by mail for people who face barriers to in-person care. Center for Reproductive Rights - reproductiverights.org Litigates cases to protect and expand access to reproductive health care and abortion rights worldwide. Advocacy and Involvement Resources: Alliance for Justice - afj.org Join campaigns focused on protecting civil rights, access to justice, and equity for marginalized communities. Center for Popular Democracy - populardemocracy.org Supports marginalized communities through campaigns on racial and economic justice, immigration reform, and healthcare. Human Rights Campaign (HRC) - hrc.org Opportunities to volunteer, participate in advocacy campaigns, and fight for LGBTQIA+ rights through events and local organizing. National Immigration Law Center (NILC) - nilc.org Advocate for policies supporting immigrants, including DACA, workplace protections, and healthcare access. Environmental Defense Fund (EDF) - edf.org

Advocate for climate change response initiatives via donations and campaign support

Please feel free to reblog/comment and add to this list.

with love,

dipplinduo

#dipplinduo talks #mental health resources #<3

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swisccfinds · 1 year ago

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50 ONE LEVEL CAREERS: Storytelling careers megapack by isy's the snake

Here is yet another career mod pack, but this one has no promotions, you just work and your job level stays at 1. As the title say this mod is best for story telling!

creator's notes-

This mod requires XML Injector by Scumbumbo. You can find it here. Pay attention if you don't already have it for another mod! In that case, you do not need to re-install it. Be sure it is updated for the last patch.

XML Injector is a mod required for some mods to work. So, you install it as any other mod in your Mods folder, no more than one subfolder deep.

This mod has been updated for the version 1.99.305 of the game (second update after Horse Ranch).

It doesn't required any DLC to work. Base game compatible

I've adopted this mod from the amazing ItsKatato who, due to her hiring at EA, couldn't continue to mod. I have made some changes: • I have changes all the pics of the careers — now they all show Sims (please check the credits paragraph at the end to see who was the amazing raccoon who helped me); • I have updated the mod for the Horse Ranch patch; • I have cleared ALL the tuning errors; • Fixed the description of some careers who appeared to be missing.

Now, here we go with the explanation of the mod (originally written by ItsKatato, edited by me):

Katato said: "Have you ever had a story planned out for your sims but you can't find the perfect career for them? Most of the time when I find the career it ends up being a complicated career with a bunch of promotion tasks and extra stuff. Well, I've made a pack of a bunch of single-level careers. All your sim has to do is go to work, that's it. This is perfect for the non-important sims in your life, like the forgotten children of your legacy challenge." In short: those are 50 careers you can use for NPCs Sims or random Sims you do not want to care about. As Amethyst said: "Go to work, make money, leave me alone". Your Sims won't need any task to perform to upgrade and get a promotion, as well as they do not really need an ideal mood to go to work since it won't change their performance. They just go and do their job. And now the list of all careers:

1. Anesthetiologist 2. Cartographer 3. Chiropractor 4. Compliance Officer 5. Data Scientist 6. Dental Hygienist 7. Dentist 8. Diagnostic Medical Sonographer 9. Financial Advisor 10. Financial Manager 11. Genereal Surgeon 12. Genetic Counselor 13. Home Health Aide 14. Information Security Analyst 15. IT Manager 16. Interpreter And Translator 17. Lawyer 18. Marriage And Family Therapist 19. Massage Therapist 20. Mathematician 21. Mechanical Engineer 22. Medical And Health Services Manager 23. Nurse Anesthetist 24. Nurse Practitioner 25. Obstetrician And Gynecologist 26. Occupational Therapist 27. Operations Reasearch Analyst 28. Optometrist 29. Oral And Maxillofacial Surgeon 30. Orthodontist 31. Orthotist And Prosthetist 32. Paralegal 33. Pediatrician 34. Personal Care Aide 35. Phlebotomist 36. Physical Therapist 37. Physical Therapist Assistant 38. Physician 39. Physician Assistant 40. Pilot 41. Podiatrist 42. Prosthodontist 43. Psychiatrist 44. Registered Nurse 45. Respiratory Therapist 46. Software Developer 47. Speech-Language Pathologist 48. Statician 49. Substance Abuse And Behavioral Disorder Counselor 50. Veterinarian 51. Web Developer 52. Wind Turbine Technician

lets give some of our love and support to isy!

download

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gravityrises · 6 months ago

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The Virtues of Stanford Pines

Summary: I've seen people accuse Ford of doing horrible things on one side, and people defending his actions on the other side. But how about we turn the tables and talk about all of the good Ford has done. (At least, that was the plan.)

Word Count: 2813.

Spoilers: Gravity Falls series, Journal 3, The Book of Bill, Lost Legends, thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com

1. He's incredibly hard-working:

Just because someone is smart doesn't mean they don't put a lot of effort into studying and Ford definitely did. It's mentioned twice just in "A Tale of Two Stans," when he tries to convince the college board to give him another chance and when he describes his years at Backupsmore.

And it doesn't stop at intellectual pursuits. In Journal 3 Ford says he exercises daily, despite having always hated physical activity.

Anyway, I don't think anyone is going to argue this point, so let's leave it at that.

2. He's supportive of his friend:

There are going to be a few controversial takes, but I truly believe that Ford was trying to be a good friend to Fiddleford. Now, there were fights between them, and Ford did say quite a few insensitive things both to his face and in the Journal. But overall, I don't think he ever intended to hurt Fiddleford, and he definitely appreciated his friend's company.

When Ford invited Fiddleford to work on the portal, he wrote in the journal: "He (Fiddleford) has sacrificed so much to come to my aid. He has temporarily left his bride and their young son... he has abandoned his own professional aspirations... I must do my best to make him feel at home.... I am off to the store for some banjo strings and microchips!" (quote shortened, because I'm lazy) Clearly, Ford cared about his friend and wanted to make him feel welcome.

He also compliments Fiddleford's "brilliant mind," "amusing quirks" and scrupulous work ethic, by saying "I double-check my equations. He quintuple-checks!"

And I hear you, didn't he claim the complete opposite in the series? According to him, Fiddleford "was wasting his talent trying to make personal computers", right? Well, if we ignore the fact that the creators weren't 100% consistent in their writing, here's how I would reconcile those two statements. Ford thought (erroneously) that his friend's research wasn't important in the grand scheme of things, but it was important to Fiddleford personally. And can you really blame Ford? He was about to demostrate the existence of other dimensions and create a gateway that would allow us to visit them. If something like that happened irl, it would've been a groundbreaking discovery, altering our very understanding of the natural world and how it works. Meanwhile, laptops, at least in Ford's opinion, were just "heavy, slow journals." Still, he knew this work was important to Fiddleford, and he wanted to accommodate that. Hence, his trip to buy microchips (and banjo strings.)

Ford tried (and unfortunately, failed) to help Fiddleford deal with his anxiety. In Journal 3, he mentions teaching Fiddleford some meditation techniques and going to the Carnival, so that Fiddleford would enjoy "a day of relaxation." In the Book of Bill, Ford feels guilty about not getting his friend a gift and decides to throw a surprise Christmas party instead. This was also an attempt to cheer Fiddleford up after his fight with his wife.

"But Ford didn't take Fiddleford's anxiety seriously, and it ruined his life." Okay, let's say you're right. Remember, Ford was raised in the 60s. A time when mental illness or just mental distress were looked down on. What was he supposed to do? Suggest Fiddleford goes to the therapist? I mean, they were studying paranormal creatures, if Fiddleford told those stories to a therapist who didn't believe in these things, there would've been a really high chance of misdiagnosis. Should Ford have simply fired Fiddleford? Well, that wouldn't have been very nice. Also, there is no need to infantilize Fiddleford in the first place, he's a grown-up person capable of makind his own decisions. If the job is too stressful, if the relationship doesn't work out, he has every right to leave, because his life and mental well-being are his responsibility. Instead, he ignored Ford's warnings and decided to use the Memory Gun and start a cult. It was, by the end of the day, Fiddleford's decision. And it's tragic. It really is. No one deserves to lose their family, their mind and their sense of self. It's something Ford feels guilty about, because whether it was intentional or not, he did indirectly contribute to Fiddleford's downfall. That's why, when they finally reunited after 30 years, Ford apologized to Fiddleford. And according to Journal 3, Fiddleford dissmised his apology, leading Ford to say that "Not only is this man's mind superior to mine, but he has one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen."

3. He has no reservations about helping others out:

There's a reason why Ford's the first person people turn to, when there's a problem. He has both the desire and the skills to help people out. Using Dipper's idea, he stops agents from investigating his family. He goes above and beyond just to change a lightbulb in the kitchen. Though morally questionable, he did give the kids a mind control tie with the intent of helping Stan win the elections. In the comics, Stan turns to Ford when Mabel's face is stolen and when Stan himself is cursed by an old chest.

And that's how things were in the past too. In "The Pines Boys in: The Jersey Devil's in the Details", Ford defends his brother, twice. First, when Filbrick accuses Stan of stealing the gold chain from his pawn shop. And then, when the Sibling Brothers offered Ford to let him keep the monster and become famous in exchange for photos that would prove Stan's guilt. And just to add an incentive, they threatened to frame both twins, if Ford didn't comply. Obviously, it didn't work.

According to thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com, that's also how he became friends with Fiddleford: on the very first day, he spent nine hours helping his new friend prove his theory. And in the Book of Bill, when Ford learns that Bill's home dimension was destroyed by a monster, his immediate reaction is to offer help with hunting it down.

Whenever someone's in distress, Ford really wants to help them out, and I don't know about you, but to me that doesn't sound like someone lacking empathy.

4. He's got no qualms questioning the status quo:

In Journal 3, Ford mentions traveling to Northwest Manor to confront Old Man Northwest with evidence of his family's deceit. Instead, he was met by young Preston, who wasn't impressed with his speech and forcibly escorted Ford from the premises.

Also in Journal 3, Ford wanted to debate politics with Reagan. Make of that what you will.

Now this one is more of a conjecture, but in the Book of Bill, this is how Bill compliments him: "Guys as smart as you come along once every century, and they scare the pants off of authority figures!" This lie wouldn't have worked, if it wasn't what Ford actually wanted.

And of course, learning that his former "muse" is one of the most feared beings in the entire multiverse, didn't stop Ford from going on a quest to defeat Bill. Even after witnessing other creatures shriek and cover their ears at the mere mention of Bill's name. Which leads me to my next point.

5. Calling him determined would be a massive understatement:

Forget his sleepless nights at college, forget his extensive research in Gravity Falls, Ford has spent 30 years, let me repeat that again, 30 years traveling across dimensions and looking for a way to destroy Bill Cipher. I haven't even been alive for that long! From the little we know about those years, they were anything but easy. In fact, Ford describes them as "frightening, exciting, cruel, and strange." (And of course, the guy actually does use the Oxford comma in his writing. Who would've thought?) Let me stress that Ford was under no obligation to continue his quest, maybe he could've found a quiet dimension to settle down and live peacefully, in fact, that's something he contemplates while visiting A Better World in Journal 3. But he decides against it. Not because he didn't want to, he literally says that he wanted to revel in his parallel self's success. Not because defeating Bill would get him recognition. It wouldn't, at least not in his home dimension, where no one is even aware of the danger. No, he didn't stay, because his own conscience wouldn't allow it. Ford just couldn't break his vow from 30 years ago, it's as simple as that.

And what does he do, when his plans fall apart? Does he even consider giving up? Of course not! In fact, he ends his tale of interdimensional travel with the following sentence: "My resolve to defeat Bill has never been stronger." It's almost comical, watching him throw anything he can think of at Bill and see what might stick. His battle in the Nightmare Realm was interrupted? He jumps through the portal to stop Bill's forces from entering his dimension. The portal created an interdimensional rift? He tries to contain it. Bill threatens to get his hands on the rift? This time Ford has two ideas: he tries to encrypt Dipper's thoughts and creates a mystical barrier around the house. The worst happens and the world is about to end? Well, get in loser, we're going to shoot Bill with Quantum Destabilizer. Ford misses and is captured? Not to worry, there's a Zodiac prophecy, we can give that a try. It doesn't work, because two grown men can't put aside their grievances for just a few seconds, gosh that scene is so frustrating to watch. Well, here is another idea: one can erase Bill with a memory gun as long as he's in someone's mind. I don't know what else to say, Ford really did his homework, when he set out to destroy Bill.

6. He has the patience of a saint:

Wow, now here's a controversial take. Remember Stan's "Beep boop. I am a nerd robot. That's you. That's what you sound like," which Ford just laughs off. Yes, that's what siblings do all the time. And yes, this teasing does come from a place of hurt. Stan was feeling like "the stupid twin," "a dumb idiot who screws everything up," so Ford felt like he just had to put up with this. But it's still hurtful to be mocked for your interests. It really feels like their relationship was already a little strained even before the Science Fair Project Incident.

What about the fact that he was the first to stop the fight in "Dungeons, Dungeons, and more Dungeons" and suggesting Stan might actually have fun, if he joined their game?

Or all the snide comments Stan made, when they reunited during Weirdmageddon, including "Well, he's lost his mind" and "You really think some caveman graffiti is gonna stop that monster?" All of which Ford simply ignored. Yes, he did correct Stan's grammar under the worst of circumstances, I agree, but you know, everyone has their pet peeves.

What people often forget is just how difficult it is to be a kind person, when you're stressed. It is much easier to treat people with respect and understanding, when you yourself are doing fine. So is it that big of a surprise, that someone who's under pressure, sleep-deprived and/or in pain might be more prone to outbursts? And we know how traumatic Ford's experience of being bullied as a kid was, how much suffering Bill put him through, how difficult his years on the other side of the portal were and how much pressure he was under, trying to prevent a literal end of the world. It's ironic that the people who blame Ford for his lack of empathy, really don't show him any empathy themselves.

7. Even under torture, he didn't reveal the equation that would've allowed Bill to take over the world:

Do I really have to spell it out? Look, as someone who was on the verge of mental breakdown from a simple toothache, I have nothing else to say other than: This is admirable. And he did it to protect the world that, need I remind you, wasn't particularly kind to him. On the same note, he just never joined Bill in the first place: not in the 80s, and not during Weirdmageddon.

"Oh, but he's the one who started the Apocalypse, so he kind of deserved it." Seriously? No, I mean it, are you being serious? Is that something you would say to a person suffering from diabetes type 2, that it's their fault for eating too many sweets; or to someone with liver cirrhosis that they deserve to suffer because of their alcohol addiction? Because this is neither appropriate, nor helpful. Talk about kicking someone when they're down...

8. He's fiercely loyal to his family:

I think the way Ford compliments his grandniece in "The Last Mabelcorn" is very revealing: "You've protected your family. You're a good person, Mabel." His very definition of a "good person" is "someone who supports and protects their family." Which is... interesting to say the least, considering that Ford has spent a very long time away from his family and completely alone. But it does sound like something he aspires to. That's why he goes out of his way to help his family out, whenever they're in trouble. (See point 3 for more on this.)

When Bill threatens the kids, Ford is willing to risk the entire universe for a slim chance that they might be spared. It's a cruel Trolley Problem, which once again proves just how much he values his family. Still, this is some Fate/Zero level angst and I don't want to talk about it more than I absolutely have to. Let's finish this up with something more lighthearted.

9. He's never lost curiosity and childlike wonder:

This! This is what made me fall in love with the man and why I'm wasting my time writing this nonsense in the first place. This allconsuming excitement, when he finds a new anomaly to study; this seemingly endless energy, when he explores new places; this pure joy, when he gets to play DD&MD with Dipper! I don't know how to talk about it without gushing.

Ford obviously loves games, and not just DD&MD. He plays chess with Bill. He mentions being great at charades in the comics. And what cracks me up the most: during Weirdmageddon, when Pacifica compared the Zodiac to a game of hopscotch, not only did not Ford get offended, but he replied: "It would be a pretty fun game of hopscotch." Ford, darling, the world is about to end, is this really the best time to contemplate a hypothetical game of hopscotch? Also, you've just been through something traumatic... Forget it, you've been through 3 decades of traumatic experiences, can you at least have the decency to become a tad more cynical as you age, like the rest of us. I guess, mirth really is the mail of anguish. (It's from Emily Dickinson's poem and the quote means that some people act cheerful to hide their suffering.)

Also, something Ford doesn't get enough credit for, mostly because people usually focus on his academic achievements, but he is quite creative. He draws incredibly detailed sketches not only depicting various anomalies he encounters, but also whatever happens in his life. (Probably off-topic, but I find the implications of that karaoke page so funny. Think about it: the guy sobered up, looked at the incomprehensible nonsense he had written the previous night and thought: "You know what? This could really use an illustration.") Also don't forget that he canonically plays piano. Yeah, if I were Stan, I'd be jealous too.

And of course, that's why he's so passionate about science. Sure, part of him wants the fame and recognition that would come, if he makes a big discovery, but you can't deny that he genuinely enjoys learning new things. And that he enjoys sharing them with whoever is willing to listen.

In conclusion, I'm not trying to say that Ford is perfect in every way and has never done a single wrong thing in his life. To be honest, that would've made him a really boring character. So, yes, he is flawed, and misguided, and sometimes insensitive. He's made a lot of missteps because of his upbringing, personality and, as many have speculated, neurodivergence. But I really take issue with people saying Ford's a bad person, when he clearly isn't. Ford is and always was a good person, and by the end of all the trials he became a better person. One who understands that the only way to success is cooperation, not being a lone vigilante. That it's not a weakness to ask for help or to need help in the first place. And that a sea otter shared is a sea otter halved.

That's strange... why did I write that?

#and they told me i couldn't write useless fluff pieces #honestly jokes on you ford haters #no one can hate ford more than he already hates himself #and that is somewhat comforting #not beta read #but my mom read a google translation of it #yeah i don't know what i was thinking #i kind of hoped she would give up after 2 paragraphs #this is my one thousandth post on this sideblog #gravity falls #stanford pines #character analysis #i guess

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charliegyrth · 12 days ago

Text

Hangry

Before

I slammed the door behind me.

“Aiden? You okay?” my husband called from the other room. I could hear video game music in the background. He was playing Mario Kart again.

Course he was. He still hadn’t taken out the trash. His dirty lunch plate was in the sink. His shoes were in the middle of the room instead of neatly in the rack.

I know this doesn’t sound like much, but after a long, long day at work, I expected my work-from-home husband to clean up a little bit before he started playing freaking Mario Kart.

The game music switched off and Greg entered the living room. He was in sweatpants and no shirt, giving me a nice view of his lean, hairy body. I wasn’t turned on by his shirtlessness, though. Not in the moment. Instead, seeing him like that, while I was stuffed in my work clothes and choking on my tie, just made me more frustrated.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said, ignoring his offer for a hug and plopping onto the couch. I loosened my tie and unbuttoned my shirt, which gave me a bit of relief.

I always chose work clothes that were slightly too tight. That way, I could show off my muscular frame and exude a sense of power in the office. It worked (two promotions in the last year), but it left me feeling uncomfortable and constricted for most of the day.

Greg sat beside me and supportively rubbed my shoulder. “Hard day at work?”

“It was fine!” I snapped at him. (It wasn’t fine, of course. Greg should’ve known me well enough to figure out when I didn’t want to talk about work.)

“Well, I had a good day,” Greg tried to fill the silence. “Beth came over with the kids. They just did their karate test thing. Orange belts, now.”

He went off on some long story about his nephews, but I wasn’t paying attention. I kept thinking about work, about Mr. Johnson interrupting my lunch so he could give me even more responsibilities while my worthless coworker was on maternity leave.

Eventually, Greg stopped talking. I guess his story was over. He looked at me for a long time, his eyes filled with sadness. “Aiden, I think we need to talk.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

He pulled away from me. “You’re so angry all the time.”

“What?”

“Look, I love you. I’ll always love you. But… You’re not fun anymore. Before, I used to be so excited when you came home from work. Now, you’re like an incoming storm cloud. I know you’re stressed, and the house is a little messy right now. Sorry about that. But do you have to be so… mean?”

My heart broke.

Greg was right. I was mean. I was angry at the world, angry at life, and I took my frustrations out on the one person I loved most.

“I’m sorry.”

“Is there something I need to change about myself?” he asked. “Am I the problem?”

“No! Of course not.”

“So what is it? How can we fix this?”

I had zero answers to the second question and so many answers to the first. Work sucked. I was struggling with time management. I had no energy anymore. I spent so much time either at the office or at the gym that I didn’t have any time to just relax.

But I didn’t want to unload all that on Greg. Saying that stuff out loud would just get me angry again. I eventually said, “I don’t know. I had to skip lunch today. I guess I’m hangry.”

“Well, it’s not just today. Do you skip lunch a lot?”

“Honestly, yeah.”

“Okay, well, let’s get some food inside you. I’ll order something.” He pulled out his phone. “Thai?”

“Sure.”

Greg was trying to help. God bless him for it. Ordering an early dinner would help me relax a bit, but it wouldn’t solve the underlying problems. It would be a small band-aid on a bleeding wound. Tomorrow, I’d just turn into a ball of anger again.

Unless I changed my ways. Unless I figured out a way to control my emotions. Because yeah, I had a problem. And I knew that if my life kept going in the same direction, eventually I’d push Greg away forever.

And I didn’t want that.

Maybe I could try seeing a therapist.

“Ordered!” Greg announced. He put his phone away. “It’ll be about forty minutes. Let me get something to tide you over in the meantime.” He hurried into the kitchen.

As I sat on the couch, thinking about all the completely justified reasons why Greg had called me mean, I stripped off my shirt completely. That felt good.

Greg came back with a bag of potato chips we kept in case people came over. He placed it in my lap. I wasn’t the biggest fan of chips (they were more Greg’s thing), but I figured why not?

I popped a couple in my mouth and felt instant relief at the shock of saltiness. I guess I was hungrier than I realized. “These are good.”

“I know.”

As I munched on the chips, I finally told Greg about my workplace frustrations. I just let it all come out.

Greg listened, glad that I was finally opening up.

“And then Sadie, in accounting… It’s like, how many kids is she going to have? Like, I get it. You’re Mormon. And I’m all for maternity leave or whatever. But why I am always…” I stopped. My hand dug around the chip bag and felt only crumbs.

Had I eaten that entire thing? Yeah, I guess I had.

“Feel better?” Greg asked.

“Yeah.” Both because of the satisfied fullness, and because of the venting.

The doorbell rang. Our Thai food had arrived. I wasn’t starving anymore, but I knew that it wasn’t healthy to eat potato chips instead of an actual meal. I got up to answer the door... Until Greg pushed me back down.

“I got it, honey.”

He thanked the delivery guy and came back with three bulging bags of food.

“Is that all for us?”

“No. We’re going to walk around the neighborhood and pass out rice congee to all our neighbors.” He set the bags down in front of me and pulled out container after container of delicious-looking entrees.

“Why did you…?”

“I didn’t realize you were starving yourself so much at work,” he said. “That’s not healthy. I figured… you know. You needed this.”

I loved Greg so much, and I hated myself for losing sight of that.

I didn’t really know the names of all the dishes we were eating, so Greg explained each one as I sampled. (He spent a year in Thailand before we met.) Once I had a little bit of everything, he asked me what my favorite was.

“Honestly, they’re all good. Very saucy.”

“Then have some more.”

So I did. I ate with utter abandon while Greg retold his nephews’ karate story. It was such a wonderful conversation, and my taste buds were sparking on my tongue, that I didn’t realize how much I’d eaten until I felt my stomach throb.

I stopped.

Greg looked at me with both pride and happiness. He wiped a trail of curry off my chin. “Don’t you feel so much better after a good meal?”

“I ate too much.”

He placed his hand on my distended stomach and gave it a supportive pat. “I can see that.”

I looked at the empty containers covering the table. There was still some food left, but most of it was gone. Greg had eaten some, of course. But I managed to consume more food than I ever had before. I’d feel embarrassed if my entire body didn’t feel so satisfied. Painfully packed, but satisfied. There was not a single twinge of anger inside me.

Neither of us said anything for a while. Greg had started rubbing circles on my stomach, which felt incredible.

“Okay,” he said. “Well, it looks like we fixed your hangriness.” That wasn’t a word. “So from now on, Aiden, stop starving yourself, okay? If you start feeling frustrated again, just… pop in a snack. Okay? We’ll both be happier.”

I felt too good to argue. “Okay.”

“I’ll make sure to have more substantial dinners waiting for you when you get home,” he said. “And the next time your boss calls you into a meeting during lunch, tell him no. I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”

“Maybe.”

He smiled. “I like you so much better like this, Aiden. Full and happy.”

***

After

Greg walked through the front door and kicked off his shoes.

“Another long day?” I asked from the couch.

“It was fine,” he said. “Just happy to get home to my big man.” He walked over, sidestepping the piles of take-out boxes on the floor, and kissed me. “Have you been productive?”

“Heck yeah!” I answered proudly. “Finished both cheesecakes! And the leftover fettucine.”

“That’s my guy.”

I did some work, too. I led a couple Zoom meetings with my coworkers and filled out their schedules. But I didn’t tell him about all that. Wasn’t important.

Once I got my last promotion and moved up to an entirely supervisory role, I was able to start working from home full-time. That was around the time I passed 300, still pretty mobile but definitely struggling to rush around the office the way I used to.

Ironically, that was the same time Greg had gotten his new job at the library. For the first time since we’d gotten married, he was the one working outside of the house, and he loved it just as much as I loved staying in.

Greg walked over, looking particularly handsome in his new vest. His hands were behind his back. “So with all that cheesecake, I should probably save my little surprise for later.”

At the word “surprise,” my mouth started to water. He really knew how to push my buttons.

He revealed that surprise, a box of apple fritter donuts, and held it just out of reach. “I’ll just store this for later.”

He was messing with me, like he always did.

I reached for the box, but of course I couldn’t pull my massive body off the couch. My fingers grazed the edge of the box before I flopped back down. “Come on, Greg.”

Smiling, he placed the box on the counter behind him.

“If you’re really hungry, you can grab one yourself.”

He stood back and waited for me to stand and walk. He wanted to watch the show.

It took a couple tries to push myself off the couch. Each time I fell back, fast food trash and empty potato chip bags landed on the floor. Finally, I was standing. After another fifty pounds or so, I probably wouldn’t be able to get off the couch without help.

Then I started the slow, difficult walk across the room. My gut thudded against my thighs. My feet crunched against fallen treats. But eventually, I made it to the donuts.

I’d really grown a passion for donuts over the years. Those were actually the first snacks I took into work. I kept them by my computer, and throughout the day, whenever I’d feel a sense of frustration, I’d pop one into my mouth. Over time, one became two. Two became more. And pretty soon, I didn’t feel complete unless I had a blast of sugar in my mouth.

Because I ate them so constantly, those donuts were the biggest contributors to my rapid weight gain, though Greg’s massive dinners came a close second.

And with each bite, with each new roll forming on my body, I felt less angry. About anything, really. With a full stomach, all problems were manageable, all annoyances were gone.

Greg proudly watched me open the box and scarf down the first apple fritter.

“Thanks, honey. These are just what I needed.”

He wrapped his arms around my overflowing waist, kissing me on the neck. “How you feeling?”

“A little hangry,” I joked. “I should probably finish this box.”

The End.

You can find all my stories here.

#gainer stories #gainer story #gainerfiction #male wg #wg fiction #gainer fiction #gainerfic #gay feeder #weight gain fiction #weight gain story #gainerstory

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missjomarch · 1 year ago

Text

Josephine - Luke Hughes

A/N: This is the longest thing I have ever written. Like actually. I heard the song Josephine by Pony Bradshaw and my brain was begging me to do something creative with it, so I wrote this. But I'm on my period so it turned very sad and angsty quickly. So now you all get to suffer along with me! With that said please please read the warnings and if at any point you feel uncomfortable click away.

Word Count: 3.7k 😳

Warnings: Grief and angst with no real happy ending or comfort. Cursing, crying, mentions of blood and pain. A half second on 18+ content but no explicit details.

(Portions in italics are flash backs. Enjoy, lovelies. 🫶)

Luke Hughes sat sprawled in one of the cushioned armchairs spaced across the rooftop bar the New Jersey Devils currently resided on. His view of the New York skyline was fuzzy, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the beer in his left hand or the smoke from the joint in his right. The one thing he was sure of was that he didn’t want to be here, and he damn sure didn’t want to be sober. Luke could feel the pitying looks from his brother and captain all the way across the bar, but at least they hadn’t made any comments tonight.

The team had won the game earlier in the day by a large margin and Luke wasn’t beating himself up over minuscule mistakes like he used to. No, that wasn’t the issue. In fact, Luke was playing some of the best hockey he had in years. His on-ice performance was probably the only reason he was even still on the team, considering that he had been skipping most morning skates and all public appearances for the past few weeks.

He had seen the therapist the team provided and taken the weeks off that the trainers had suggested, so he isn’t sure why they insist on continually doing mental checkups on him. It was irritating. Especially when he didn’t give them the answers they wanted, so they sent Jack to pester him instead. All it did was remind him of you.

“Luke.”

His head snapped towards where you sat in the passenger seat of his car, eyes shining and a soft smile on your lips.

“The light has been green for like 30 seconds, babe. What’s going on in that pretty head, hm?”

Luke always swore that your sweet voice could melt 20 feet of snow in the dead of winter. It was like coming home from a long day to a warm house. It was one of his favorite things about you. So, because he knew you’d ask the question again, he simply shrugged his shoulders in response. He fully planned to keep his troubles to himself in an attempt not to worry you, but then your manicured hand was running through the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Tell me about it, Lu. What’s wrong?”

With your use of the nickname, he was gone. Suddenly all the world’s problems were spilling from his lips, and he couldn’t stop them even if he wanted to. You tended to have that effect on people. You were just so damn easy to talk to. And the best part? You almost always knew how to make it better. A quick kiss and a Band-Aid, and Luke was back on his way with a smile.

“Luke,” you mumbled, “Luke…”

“Luke.”

Jack stood in front of his brother, shaking his shoulder to break him from his trance.

“You okay?” Jack questioned, not missing the shine in Luke’s eyes as they were torn from the skyline view. He watched as Luke took a deep drag from the joint in his hand, exhaling the smoke as he attempted to clear the lump from his throat.

“Fine, Jack.”

“Bullshit,” Jack couldn’t help the scoff he let out, “Get up, we’re going home.”

Luke didn’t have it in him to argue. Not that he would have, anyway. He never wanted to leave the house in the first place, especially after the situation Jack got him into the last time they had gone out. 2 months ago, his brother had dragged him to this same rooftop bar insisting that it’d be good for him to get out there again. It took all of 30 minutes before Jack was pushing Luke in the direction of a random girl. “A good fuck will fix you right up”, Jack had claimed.

“Luuuuke,” the girl below him moaned as he kissed down her neck. He didn’t know her name, didn’t particularly care to either. He was a bit too busy resenting his brother for setting him up with this random girl in the first place.

He tried to ignore the hot anger flowing through him, tried to focus on the heavy breathing of the blonde and the way her nails were raking down his back. Luke’s hands dipped under her shirt, quickly finding her bra and giving it a harsh tug downwards. His fingers fumbled deftly until they gripped her tits, drawing a sharp gasp from the girl.

“Oh! Lu, please,” she whined. When he didn’t respond, she went to pull his face to hers. But Luke had froze, brain short circuiting at the nickname he hadn’t heard in over 8 months.

His throat was burning. His breath turned ragged as he yanked his hands from beneath her shirt. He stared at her with wild eyes, chest heaving.

“Get out,” he ground out. His heart was pounding. What was wrong with him?

“Are you okay?” The blond started back at him with a horrified expression, and Luke had to bite his tongue to keep from spitting out any malicious words. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Leave, please.” He begged, unable to look her in the face.

“Luke, I don’t understand,” she tried to reason, “Luke…”

“Luke.”

Jack was looking at him expectantly from the driver’s side of his sleek BMW as he navigated the late-night New Jersey traffic. Luke blinked slowly, trying to clear the bitter memory from his foggy mind.

“Sorry, what’d you say?” Luke questioned, choosing to ignore the concern blaring in his brother’s eyes. Jack seemingly decided to let it be, instead jumping back into whatever he originally asked.

“I was asking if you thought the stadium series would be a good time to introduce Sydney to mom and dad? I know it’s only been a few months, but I don’t know when they’ll be in town again.”

Luke nodded, “Are you just going to do it at dinner? Or the hotel?”

Jack hesitated, clearly contemplating the options before lighting up, “What if I brought her to the family skate? She’s been wanting to learn anyways! It be just like when you brought jo-” Jack choked on his words, immediately recognizing his mistake. He turned towards his brother, attempting to get a read on his face in the dim light of the passing streetlamps. But Luke had already shut down, face turned to stare blankly out the window.

Jack reached over to give a comforting squeezing to Luke’s left shoulder, “Luke.”

“LUKE!” you squealed as your hands white knuckled his sweatshirt. He giggled at your skating stance before pulling you to his chest.

“You alright there, Bambi?” He smirked down at you as you sent him a glare.

“I’m new to this, asshole. It’s not my fault my teacher is no good,” you threw back at him. It was your turn to smirk as Luke’s mouth hung open in mock offense.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve taught hundreds of kids across the state of New Jersey how to properly skate.”

“Those poor kids,” you quickly retorted, sticking your tongue out as he scowled at you. However, that scowl quickly faded into a look of mischief and your face dropped as his arms loosened around you.

“Fine. Suit yourself, Bambi.” Luke let you go, giving you the lightest of shoves backwards. Then you were stranded. Forced to watch as your boyfriend skated backwards away from you, leaving you wide eyed and terrified as you froze on the ice. Your fear quickly turned to anger, and Luke marked the shift in your demeanor with a laugh.

“Luke Warren Hughes, you come back here and get me right now.”

“Nope. Come and get me, baby.” Luke winked at you as he skated past, only serving to further frustrate you. You’d never admit that his plan was working, but the anger was motivating. You let out a strangled groan before starting to shuffle forward, sliding your skates like Luke taught you. You were doing well for a while, slowly making your way towards where Luke was taunting you from the boards behind the net. That was until two kids flew past you, knocking you off balance and sending you scrambling to regain it.

“Luke! Luke, Luke, Luke,” you called, too focused on your slipping feet to notice if your boyfriend was coming to your aid. Then you lost balance completely, tumbling down towards the ice. You closed your eyes as you avoided flinging your arms out to catch yourself, still heeding Luke’s warnings even as he got you in this mess in the first place. You prepared yourself for the cold hard burn of your backside hitting the ice, but it never came. Instead you landed in a pair of unfamiliar arms, barely recognizing that you weren’t on the ground before being hauled to a standing position. You carefully turned around and were met with Jack’s smiling face.

“Knight in shining armor, at your service,” Jack grinned, adding a small salute for effect. You rolled your eyes, scanning the ice for Luke.

“How long have you been following behind me?”

“Ever since Luke pretended to leave you stranded. He planned the whole thing, I was behind you the entire time to save you from your inevitable demise,” Jack poked you, smile growing impossibly wider at the annoyed look gracing your face.

“Big words for someone who never went to college,” you shot at him, needing anything to level the playing field between you. It was then that Luke finally returned, skating to a smooth stop to your left.

“What’d I miss?”

“Your girlfriend was insulting my intelligence after I graciously saved her precious be-hind,” Jack spoke, adding a bit more than his usual sassiness into the bit. Luke turned to tsk at you.

“Now, now baby. We can’t make fun of people just because they’re less fortunate than us. It’s not Jacky’s fault he’s stupid,” Luke joked, loving the way your eyes lit up when you realized that he was joining your side. Jack, however, stood slack jawed across from you.

“Now what the hell, Luke? I went along with your little plan, and this is how you repay me?” You and Luke just blinked at him, silly little grins sitting on your face. “Go to hell, both of you,” Jack scoffed before skating off. Once he was gone, you turned towards your boyfriend. Your pout returned, but it was quickly kissed away.

“I promised you I’d never let you fall, baby. I just never said it’d be me who caught you.”

You scowled, “you’re such a smart ass.”

“Love you too, Princess,” Luke grinned. You begrudgingly allowed him to pull you into his chest, the warmth he radiated melting the glare right off your face.

You turned your head to press a kiss into his jacket-clad chest, right over his heart. A warm smile graced your lips, “I love you, Lukey.”

“Lukey!”

John Marino stood before him on the ice, stick poised to do the defensive drill coach had instructed them on.

“You’re out of it today, kid. Are we going to do this drill or not?”

“Yeah, my bad. Let’s go,” Luke nodded his head, once again trying to shake the thoughts of you from his mind. He had just barely cleared his vision before the puck was dropped, and John was racing towards him. Practice continued like that, Luke losing focus periodically until one of his teammates pulled him back into the moment.

When he trudged into the locker room an hour later, he was more than ready to go home. These were usually the days he would most appreciate having you to come home to. Leaving a hard practice and coming home to fall asleep in your arms was the best feeling. He tried not to think too much about the gaping hole that memory left in his chest as he untied his skates.

Once he was dressed in his sweats he rushed from the locker room, hoping to escape the arena before anyone could question his mental wellbeing. Luke made it to the car without any hounding from the guys or trainers, but he had to wait for what felt like an eternity before Jack finally made his way into the parking garage.

“What the hell took you so long?” Luke questioned, hopping into the passenger seat as Jack unlocked the car doors.

“Coach wanted to talk to me for a second. You could’ve gotten the keys from my bag, yknow.”

“Yeah, but then I would’ve been tempted to leave you here,” Luke smirked at his brother.

Jack only rolled his eyes, all too familiar with Luke’s teasing. His mind swirled with the reminders his coach had left him with after their brief post-practice discussion. Coach was getting extremely concerned about Luke and the lack of focus he displayed at practice and games. Jack was also concerned, and so was most of the team. He knew he should bring it up, but the joy in Luke’s eyes was so rare these days that Jack couldn’t bring himself to disturb it. He just wanted to support his brother the best he could, but Luke wouldn’t open up to him. Or anyone, for that matter. Not his mom, not Quinn, not even his old teammates from Michigan. Luke wouldn’t talk to anyone about you. So Jack took what Luke gave him. Watching late night hockey, Door Dashing dinner, or playing video games for hours on end. Anything to keep his brother occupied, and make him realize that he wasn’t alone.

Luke finally made his way into his room at 11 pm later that night, feeling relatively okay after eating dinner and watching a Canucks game with Jack. He had felt so unlike himself lately that any small reprieve from reality was a welcomed gift. He also knew that it helped Jack worry about him just a little bit less.

Luke had just turned out his bathroom light after brushing his teeth when his door creaked open, revealing Jack standing in the doorway. It wasn’t unusual for Jack to check on him before bed, but it had recently become more frequent.

“You good to leave for practice at 8 tomorrow?” Jack questioned.

Luke nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be up.”

“Better be. I’m not in the mood to drag your ass out of bed in the morning.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but the wary look on Jack’s face made him hold his tongue on the snarky response he was about to shoot back.

“Promise, I’ll be good to go at 8.”

Jack deemed that a good enough answer, and went to shut the door.

“Alright. Night, Luke.”

“Luke…” you shakily whispered on the phone. Your voice was wobbly and high pitched, the tears streaming down your face evident in your tone.

“Baby?” Luke spoke into the phone, “What’s wrong?”

It was an hour and a half until puck drop, and you should’ve been on your way to the stadium by now. Luke’s furrowed brows caught the attention of Jack in the next stall over, stopping his movements from where he was lacing up his skates.

“I was on my way to the arena, and I…” a broken sob escaped your mouth, startling Luke as he tried to fathom what could’ve possibly happened after he left the house.

“Someone hit me.”

Luke jumped to his feet, “What do you mean hit you? What happened?”

“I don’t know. Someone ran a red light or something and they hit my car. I think I spun into a pole,” your breath was growing ragged as you recited the wreck.

“Are you okay? Where are you? I’m coming to get you,” Luke rushed out as he began grabbing his clothes back out of his bag. Half the locker room was staring now, all with varying looks of concern.

“I don’t know what to do. I’m bleeding,” you squeaked. “Lukey, there’s so much blood.”

This sent Luke into a panic. He was stripping his gear as fast as humanly possible while simultaneously yelling at Jack to give him to car keys. Jack’s concerns fell on deaf ears as Luke undressed, and he finally decided that following Luke was the safest option.

“No. You’re okay, baby. I just need you to tell me where you are, okay? I’ll be there so soon, just tell me where,” Luke begged. He knew logically that the cops would arrive before he could, but he needed to be there with you.

“Don’t know. But my head hurts so bad,” you whimpered out. Luke tried to ignore the way he could hear your voice weakening as you spoke.

“Just stay on the phone with me, love. I’m on my way to come get you, yeah?”

Luke tried to reassure you as he shoved his feet into his shoes and rushed from the locker room. Jack was hot on his tail, car keys in hand.

“ ‘m sorry, Lu,” your whisper was barely heard by Luke as he sprinted down the hallways of Prudential Center.

“For what, love?”

“I wanted to be at your game tonight,” you mumbled.

“It’s fine, baby. There’ll be a million more games for you to come to, yeah?”

Luke attempted to comfort you as he searched for your location, plugging it into the GPS as Jack pulled out of the parking garage. Luke could only hope the pregame traffic wouldn’t get in the way.

“Mhmm. Lukey?”

“Yeah, baby?”

Your voice was barely a whisper, “I love you.”

Luke swore he could feel his heart shatter at the crack in your voice. There were tears streaming from his face as he pushed Jack to drive faster.

“I love you too, princess. So much. Jacky and I are going to be there so soon. I just need you to hang on for a few minutes. Can you do that for me?”

Luke’s voice was frantic and only grew more so when he heard your phone tumbling out of your hand.

“Baby? You’ve gotta stay awake, okay?” Luke pleaded, as tears streamed down his face. His hands shook where he held the phone to his ear.

“Baby? Please tell me you’re okay. I just need you to say something.”

Luke’s begging continued until the line went dead.

“Fuck,” Luke muttered, sobs beginning to wrack his body. Jack looked at him frantically as he continued to navigate the streets of New Jersey.

“Luke? What the hell happened?” Jack kept spitting questions, but he might as well have been talking to a brick wall. “Snap out of it, Luke.”

“Luke.”

Luke awoke to Jack shaking him violently, and he tasted the salty tears streaming down his face before he felt them. ‘No. Not again,’ Luke thought. He shot up in bed, sending Jack scrambling backwards to avoid knocking heads. Luke’s head whipped back and forth wildly as his eyes searched the room. ‘Please, please, please,’ he begged the universe. He ignored the way his brain reminded him of the truth, ignored his brother’s pitying look, ignored the cold bed beside him where you should’ve been. It was if the whole world was pointing and laughing at his grieving heart. ‘Look at this idiot,’ they all seemed to say, ‘He still thinks he can save her.’

“Fuck,” Luke exhaled, finally giving up his futile attempts at disproving what he knew was his reality.

Jack stared as his younger brother lost himself to grief once again. Watching as Luke’s hands disappeared into his curls, head bowed as sob after sob wracked his body. Jack felt helpless knowing he couldn’t take this pain from his little brother. All he could do was hold him and promise to be there through it all.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Luke whispered into Jack’s shoulder. “Every time I wake up, I lose her all over again, and I can’t do it anymore.”

Jack hesitates, unsure exactly what to say in this situation. You were always the one with the best advice, the one who could handle anything.

“We’re going to get you through this, okay? You’re not alone in fighting this,” Jack paused, contemplating how to suggest his next thought. “I know you think you’re fine, but I really think you need help Luke. She would want you to get help.”

Luke nodded, knowing his brother was right. You would hate to see him like this. Ever the caretaker, you had always been the first person to chastise him for not taking proper care of his mental health during hockey season. If you saw him like this, you’d pull him into your arms and then absolutely rip him a new one until he promised to take care of himself.

“I know,” Luke mumbled, “I’ll start seeing a therapist. I think I need to step away from hockey for a bit too. It’s not fair to the guys that my mental health is affecting the team performance.”

“I think that’s smart,” Jack agreed. “The guys might not understand what you’re going through, but they know it’s not your fault Luke. They want you to get better too.”

Luke could only nod, trying to accept Jack’s words as the truth and fight the part of his brain that was saying this was all his fault. Luke was so tired, but he wasn’t willing to go back to sleep when he knew memories of you was what awaited him.

“I’ll call the trainers tomorrow. I don’t really want to go back to sleep, can we watch a movie or something?”

“Of course,” Jack agreed, despite the exhaustion weighing him down. “I’ll even let you pick.”

A slow, knowing grin spread across Luke’s features, “Even Secretariat?”

Jack’s sigh could be heard all the way in New York, but he smiled nonetheless. Just happy to see that Luke was making small steps towards returning to himself.

“Even Secretariat.”

So that’s how Luke and Jack spent their evening, watching movies and eating obscene amounts of popcorn. Luke had smiled to himself for most of the night, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders. He knew the process would be slow and that he might never truly get back to ‘normal’. But admitting his pain and asking for help, that was enough for now.

#jay writes #luke hughes #nj devils #hockey

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