#in the past if you got cancelled you could try to go to a new studio
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Hate to doom post, but I really don't think there's gonna be a 3rd season of Good Omens.
Not being renewed immediately is a very bad sign. Righteous Gemstones was renewed immediately; Succession was offered a 5th season, but Jesse Armstrong most likely declined considering he didn't want a 5th season.
From dumping off a whole season in one day, the writer's strike and (awful lol) studios prioritizing AI and reality shows, streaming generally dying, and the industry floundering, it's never good for very expensive shows that take a long time, e.g. fantasy, sci fi, etc. Even superhero shows are suffering and are going the way of westerns.
Basically I'm still dealing with trauma from Pushing Daisies being cancelled mid-season and I've been fighting those demons since I was 12. Disillusionment runs my life smdh
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deadsetobsessions · 10 months ago
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Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.4
[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]
Danny was sitting in the back, his backpack obnoxiously taking up the seat next to him, when the door to the lecture hall creaked open near silently.
“What are you in here for?” Danny asked the guy who crept into class. He sympathetically took his backpack off the Seat of Shame and allowed the guy to sit down. Funnily enough, they had the same hair and eye color.
“Gen Ed. Undecided. You?” The guy grunted quietly back.
“Environmental studies. I’m Danny.”
“Tim.”
With the implicit understanding of two people in a required class they could not give less than two fucks about, Tim and Danny tuned back into the lecture. When the class was assigned group work, Danny looked over to see Tim softly snoring, head slammed down on the table.
“Tim. Wake up, dude.” Danny poked his shoulder.
“Huh? Class over?”
“Nah, we got group work. Discussion board.”
“Oh shit, thanks for waking me up. Wanna team up?”
Danny shrugged. “Sure. We should aim to post it in the middle so the professor doesn’t read our answers to the class.”
“Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Any idea what we’re talking about?”
“Kind of?”
“Good enough for me.”
——
Tim Drake kept seeing Danny Fenton around on campus.
“Danny! Dude, what are you doing?”
Danny turned, gloved hands full of crumpled trash. “Picking up after the student population, apparently.”
“Didn’t think environmental studies was that serious.”
“Global warming is very serious, you jerk,” Danny smirked at him, crossing the grass to put the trash into the trash can. “Reduce, reuse, oil shouldn’t be spilled in water and all that.”
“Basic stuff,” Tim grinned. Nice, he basically had a friend past Bernard now!
They were friends, right?
“And yet humanity fails to comprehend it. Incredible. Incredibly stupid that is.”
“They get it. Major corporations just don’t care.”
Danny sighed. “True that. You on your way to your next class?” He took off his biodegradable gloves off (nitrile and nylon, baby!) and chucked them into the trash.
“I’ve got free time, actually. Prof cancelled for his daughter’s surgery.”
“Oh, shit, that’s rough! You wanna go downtown and join the strike?”
“A strike? What for?” Even as he asked, Tim hiked his bag higher onto his shoulder, ready to go. They fell into step as the two left campus.
“Apparently, Quillan Pharma was doing some shady shit at their manufacturing plants. I think it’s like killing kids, and pouring toxins into the ground.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah. Oh! Poison Ivy’s gonna be there!”
Tim blinked. He casted a sideways look at Danny. Sure he’s been here long enough to know… but it couldn’t hurt to check. “You know she’s an eco-terrorist, right?”
“Okay, but like… people suck sometimes. And all she’s asking for is like don’t kill the planet. And she doesn’t do that whole mind control thing too much anymore! The Sirens are so cool. Plus, one of my best friends at home might actually kill me if I don’t try to get her autograph. Poison Ivy is like, Sam’s personal hero.”
Tim snickered. “Yeah, okay. Mind if one of my friends join? His name’s Bernard.”
“The more the merrier,” Danny nodded. “Ooo! Hot chocolate. Want some?”
Danny bought three drinks as Tim trailed behind, texting Bernard.
“He said yes.”
“Cool! We should meet up somewhere before the drinks get cold.”
Well, Danny got the autograph. Tim got a new friend, and Bernard got a drink from his crush.
——
“Oh, you’re the glowing dude that Batman always talks about!”
Danny blinked, eyes scanning the wing-like cape and the yellow emblem on the hero’s suit. Danny was indeed glowing, stars and nebulas freckling across neon green skin, and glowing hair the color of a white dwarf star, tinged with the blue from his ice core.
“I… have absolutely no idea who you are,” Danny lied, like a liar. He’s found a surprising niche of entertainment in messing with the local vigilantes and he’ll be damned if he missed this opportunity.
He heard a snicker from the comm lines as Red Robin visibly brushes it off.
“I’m Red Robin. Why are you picking up trash?”
“Picking up after you humans, apparently.”
The both of them blink, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu. A moment of awkward silence passed before they both shook it off.
“Are you here to help? No offense, but the track record for you people is terrible.” Danny strode over and grabbed a bag. He opened it, and shook it at Red Robin’s face. “See? Batarangs, these odd bird looking ones, the R’s. Seriously, pick up after yourselves!”
“Oh, woah, can we have these back?”
Danny yanked the bag back before Red Robin could get close. “Pay me. These were incredibly tedious to pick up. Especially the batarangs. I mean, I even found a whole bunch of old rusted ones in the middle of the bay. What did you do, dump an entire bag in there from the air?”
Red Robin sighed and took out a wad of cash, with tracking fluid all over it. Danny grimaced, smelling the odd scent on the money. “That’s not real cash. It smells off. Are you trying to give me counterfeits because you’re broke?”
Red Robin gaped, oddly offended. “No! They’re real!”
“Doesn’t smell like it. It’s stinkier than the trash. Go get the one with the money, the litterer. Tell him I’ll be back the next full moon. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” Danny grumbled, disappearing on the spot to watch Red Robin flounder with the stack of cash and the piles of dead bodies on the shore.
“What the fuck even is my life these days?” Red Robin wondered out loud, stuffing the cash back into his pocket. He looked over the plastic wrapped bodies and slumped, sighing.
Oddly enough, Danny felt a sense of sympathy. Well, he’s not getting paid for sympathy. He’s not getting paid at all tonight, actually. Danny flew off, plunging once more into the depths of the significantly cleaner waters, and used his ice to scoop out oil stains.
Danny glanced around and sighed. He had a lot of work to do.
——
“So you’re saying he’s like a werewolf mermaid fae child immortal god thing, right?”
Bruce grunted.
“B, what the hell are you smoking these days? You know drugs are bad, right? Do we need Superman to give you that PSA?” Jason snickered.
Tim, massaging his arms from having to haul an ungodly amount of dead bodies, grunted. He’s so similar to Bruce that it gave the people currently in the cave hives.
“He said full moon. I don’t think we can track him with regular stuff. The bugs kept shorting out.”
“Oh boy,” Dick sighed. “Don’t fall off the spiral cliff, Tim. You’ve got midterms to think about so no stalking the guy.”
“Yet,” Tim shot back, changing out of his suit.
Bruce grunted, setting aside a huge stack of cash.
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luvyeni · 2 months ago
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( reaction ) yandere enha when they find you ! ୨୧ 一 엔하이픈 ՞
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⸃ ⸰ ⌁ enhypen finding you after you run away ヾ
yandere!엔하이픈 hyungline・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ horror ‎, angst ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎stalking , kidnapping , threats wc ・ ‎n/a ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library
request. another request my dumb ass deleted ◉⁠‿⁠◉ ...
「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i hope you like it <3
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﹙ 𐙚 : heeseung﹚ .ᐟ
he knew were you were the entire time; i've said this many of times , heeseung is crazy and he loves to play crazy mind games — games such as making a fake a dating account just to find you and match with you. he will literally wait it out , swipe through as many girls as he had to until he found you. you were excited to get back into dating , the guy you were talking to was completely different to heeseung , getting ready for your first date with him , everything felt like a breath of fresh air. at the restaurant you were looking down at your phone , not noticing the familiar sitting down with that crazy smile. “is that anyway to greet your date?” your eyes shot up. “hee-heeseung?” your voice shaking as you see him holding his phone — with the account of the guy on the screen. “did you really think you could run away from me?” he laughed , your eyes began to tear up.
“no don't cry baby, we'll still have a good night before i take you home and give you your welcome home gift.”
﹙ 𐙚 : jay﹚ .ᐟ
a serious inconvenience for him , he gives you everything and you dare leave him? okay that's fine , he'll let you have your fun , he won't even cancel the credit card he gave you , because that's exactly how he was gonna catch you. he waited until you order a purchase offline , and he was able to get the details to your new apartment a month later — normally he'd just send his guys to come get you ,but this time he wanted to be the one to drag you back home. “j-jay.” you saw the man in the suit standing in your door. “you try and run away from me , but you use the card i pay for to make your stupid little purchases. “jay please.” he doesn't want to hear it. “you've cause so much trouble already, people are already talking about how I can't control you.”
“now let's go, I'll have someone come and pack your shit.”
﹙ 𐙚 : jake﹚ .ᐟ
it was basically a miracle that jake was still alive , he barely did anything since you left , he only ate to stay alive , he only showered just in case you walked through the door. it had been two months since you left him , yelling how much you hated him before running out the door , leaving the sobbing boy on the floor. he was fully ready to take his life — but almost as if god was on his side , you come walking out of your favorite store. you had finally felt safe enough to go out and shop , jake hadn't tried to call you , of course you tried not to worry if he actually did end it all but you never got a call. you walk right past jake , you didn't even notice him that's how different he looked. jake followed you home , all the way up to your door , where he finally runs up to you. “yn!” he shouted. “yn why'd you leave me?” you try to open the door, but the look in his eyes. “j-jake.”
“please come home , i don't know how much longer i can do it without you.”
﹙ 𐙚 : sunghoon﹚ .ᐟ
sunghoon was too impulsive to let you go on for more than a month , so you quite literally have to go into hiding , never leaving your apartment; even moving from the apartment he knew about to another one , one you thought he'd never find — boy how wrong you were. still held up in your apartment , constantly looking at the door. one day you finally feel a little a peace , not enough to leave, but enough to order your favorite food. you heard a knock , which makes you get up and go towards it. you still check the camera you installed and what you see outside makes your blood run cold. “hi baby.” the boy bangs on the door. “i found you.” he said. “sung-sunghoon.” you stuttered out. “don't dare pick up that phone and call anyone.” he said , leaning closer to the camera. “you moved but your parents haven't.”
“now open the door if you love them.”
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©LUVYENI
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archangeldyke-all · 4 months ago
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Ceo sevika being jealous about another ceo on another company trying to get reader to work for them🤭🤭
LOVE THIS
men and minors dni
"sevika, love of my life, my gorgeous girl, you're being ridiculous!" you laugh.
"i am not, she's trying to take you from me!" sevika growls from the passenger's seat.
usually, you drive the two of you to work and she drives you two home. today, though, you're driving home because you're worried sevika might actually crash the car she's so pissed off.
"who does she think she is, huh? ambessa medarda, what kind of fucking name is that?! all posh and fancy in her suit, trying to take my fucking wife from me--"
"she's not-- sevika!" you cackle.
ms. medarda had come in for a meeting with sevika, the two of them have been negotiating a deal for weeks now. over the countless meetings you'd attended with sevika and ambessa, you'd gotten to know the woman-- her coffee order, her favorite sandwich from the deli across the street-- normal things for a personal assistant to notice.
ambessa must have noticed your noticing, because she handed you a business card after this past meeting, and whispered under her breath to you. "i've been looking for a new personal assistant. give me a call if you ever get sick of this place and want to see the world."
you had told sevika with a chuckle, assuming your wife would find the suggestion of you leaving as ridiculous as you had.
you were wrong.
"fuck her. fuck this whole deal. she can go fuck herself if she thinks she can just waltz into my office, my business, and flirt with my fucking wife."
"she did not flirt with me!" you cackle. "she's on her fifth marriage to a man, sev, i don't think i'm her type."
"of course you're her type, you're everyone's type." sevika grumbles. you snort and reach across the center console to grab her hand.
"well, you're my type." you say. sevika huffs. "i don't think she even knows we're married baby. i think she was just genuinely asking for a new assistant."
"that's still fucking rude! you're the best assistant i've ever had and she's trying to fuckin' poach you from me."
you snort. "baby, it's business. it's all rude."
sevika huffs. it's quiet for a few minutes, you let your wife stew while you try not to laugh at how unnecessarily possessive she's being.
you pull into the parking garage, and sevika holds a hand out. "don't get out." she demands, running out of the passenger's side and around the car to open the door for you. you cackle.
"thank you, dear." you say, kissing her cheek. sevika smiles a little before letting her angry pout return. you snort. "you know i'd never leave you, right? not at work, and not in life."
sevika sighs and intertwines her fingers with yours as you walk toward the elevator. "i know." she mutters. "it's just... i show you the world, right?" she asks.
you coo and wrap sevika up for a hug. "sev, baby." she relaxes in your arms as you gently sway her in the middle of the parking garage. "you treat me wonderfully. we travel for work and leisure often. we eat well every night. we wear tailored clothes and drive luxury cars. but i don't really give a shit about any of that because all i really need is you." you remind her. "ambessa could offer me the world and i'd still turn her down baby. she's just not you."
sevika stays wrapped up in your arms for a few more minutes. you guys get a few strange looks from neighbors and security, but nobody says anything. when she finally pulls away, her eyes are red-rimmed and shiny, and she's got a shaky smile on her lips-- the same one she wore on your wedding day.
"okay." she says. you smile at her. "but the deal with ambessa is still off. i want you to cancel all my meetings with her first thing tomorrow morning."
you burst into laughter, and sevika smiles at the sound.
taglist!
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@mirconreadzztuff22
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queers-gambit · 25 days ago
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History of Clocks
prompt: Carmy asks you out, Carmy thinks it's platonic. Carmy and Claire go on a date, Carmy forgets to cancel. how strong - or brittle - is your friendship?
pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!bestie!reader
fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear
collection masterlist: Nights Like This
word count: 10.8k+
note: strap in, this is a doozy. a masterpiece, but i digress.
warnings: humiliation / being stood up in public, i guess miscommunication trope, Carmy's a dumb fucking boy (and a lil bit of a dick), emotions are hard, angst, this Barbie copes through writing, girls being girls over fashion, love confessions, unrequited love, drawing boundaries, depiction of anxiety, nicknamed!reader has a dog, Cicero's niece reader 'cause why not! alcohol consumption (reader's a wine girlie)! and brief depiction of smoking! use of literary devices*, hurt no comfort!
*literary device warnings: a lot of repetition and too many idioms - some flow, others are kinda forced. please roll with it.
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If someone asked Carmen Berzatto who his best friend was, he'd have zero hesitation to list your name. If someone asked who understood him the best, he'd say you did. If someone asked who supports him most outside his family, he'd shout your name first, declare your love as unconditional. If someone asked who or what inspired him, he'd insist it was you. But if you asked Carmy who he took romantic interest in, he'd answer Claire.
If anyone asked you ANY of the aforementioned questions, each response would be the same: Carmen Anthony Berzatto.
The two of you had been friends well over a decade by now, enduring his tenancy in Copenhagen and his residency in New York; plus anywhere in between. Sure, of course, it was frustrating having him gone, you missed him in abundance - but your pride outweighed everything. To see him chase and achieve such dreams brought you unparalleled joy; so much so, it didn't matter your pain of missing him. In turn, Carmy genuinely contributed much of his success to you, claiming your friendship is the central pillar that kept him upright; your blind encouragement what propelled him forward; and how a single phone call, hearing your voice, was like audible Xanax that quelled anxiety and self-doubt.
You had a tailored way of speaking to him; a way that never pressured him, but tried to show a different perspective to soothe his overactive thoughts. He describes you as optimistic, which, in his mind, was refreshing because of his violent pessimism. So, he attributed you as someone who kept him in balance.
A partner in crime. Another pea in his pod. Each other's missing half. A best friend.
For a while, this was enough.
You knew Claire was back around, but didn't put much stock in it because Carmy never did. Foolishly, you thought it was because of you - that maybe he harbored some feelings for you as you did him, and that's why he was uninterested in Claire. Through his transition being back home, Carmy had relied on you heavily, especially in the wake of Mikey; sharing intimate moments of emotional turmoil, doubts, fears, hopes, worries, dreams. Something in you both shifted; thinking perhaps you had aged past petty, fleeting flings and could focus on farming meaningful, real, lasting, supportive relationships. You foolishly thought you and Carmy were seeing one another through rose tinted glasses at the same time; that his were finally on.
You had been in the back office, wrapping up necessary paperwork for The Bear's operation when Carmy suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Hey, Honey, you got a sec?" He asked, wiping his hands on a dish towel; broad shoulder supporting his weight on the doorframe.
"Sure, whatcha need, Bear?" You glanced away from your paperwork to smile at him.
"What're you doing Friday night?"
"Uh, probably laundry? Why?"
Carmy chuckled and asked, "Wanna go out with me to this new marketplace? They have this place that does a fusion menu I've been wanting to try."
"Oh, I don't know, babes, I'm kinda out of clean underwear," you joked, both snorting identically.
"C'mon, pretty girl, go out with me. I'll even pay."
Apparently, in Carmy's mind, the phrasing 'go out with me' was purely platonic whereas to your ears, it was being asked out on an actual date. A miscommunication - or misunderstanding - that would position you both towards pain and difficulties.
"Oh, then I guess I can make it work. Where and what time do you wanna meet, Bear?"
"There's my girl," he smiled so prettily.
Carmy set the time. Carmy set the location. Carmy sought you out. Carmy asked you to go out with him. So, you didn't think to specifically clarify this meant Carmy was seriously committing because it sounded like a secure plan.
You should have.
Apparently, after parting ways with you, Claire contacted Carmy later in the night and made arrangements for their own date - on the same night, at the same time as his date with you. Carmy was so over the moon about going out with Claire, though, that he completely "forgot" to cancel on you, let alone tell you. Which felt very deliberate, considering the pair of you were so close, you were in the room post his appendix surgery - and if you've ever been there when someone's coming out of anesthesia, you know it can get kinda... intimate. So the fact that he never "thought" to tell you about Claire was a malicious blow - even if he did it unknowingly by being hyperfocused on where he'd take his lifelong crush, what he'd wear, even practicing certain topics of interest that would help him keep conversations flowing. The determination to make this date with Claire prove himself worthy of being loved, of being a priority in someone's life, mirrored your own desire - but specifically with Carmy.
You're not even sure how long you've harbored these feelings. Was it since high school? Maybe after? Was it before he left Chicago? Or when he was in Copenhagen, calling you when he got off work to chat on his walk 'home'? Maybe it was after he came back stateside and gifted you a leather-bound parchment journal where each page had a different dried, pressed, preserved floral. He labeled each bloom, dated the pages, and detailed where he was when he found each flower in silky ink from a fountain pen. The script truly looked poetic on the 'aged' pages.
"Oh, my God, Carmy - oh, wow! Look at this!" You gasped when presented the gift, gingerly leafing through the journal. "This is so - who thinks of something like this, wow, oh, look! Carm, I-I-I don't have the words, babes, this is just so beautiful, I'm blown away right now."
He shrugged sheepishly, hands in his pockets, "I picked any flower that reminded me of you." You'd come to read later that each page had an inked explanation of why these flowers made him think of you.
You beamed, clutching the journal to your chest, "Thank you so much, Carmy, I-I love it. No, really, I do!" You insisted when you saw his expression morph, "It's honestly the most thoughtful gift I've ever gotten, thank you so much."
"It's nothing," he eased, but the tips of his ears and apples of his cheeks were glowing bright. "I just didn't want to bring you home some novelty bullshit, like a 'I heart Copenhagen' mug; you deserved something better, more personal. You're a huge part of why I even went... Even bigger reason why I came back."
It was arduous to keep a level, pessimistic attitude; to gaslight yourself into believing your best friend didn't have feelings for you, that he was just being nice. Soon, it felt like wherever you turned, you had reason to suspect his feelings had changed; so upon being asked out, you abandoned logic and allowed yourself to flood with optimistic euphoria.
On Friday, you showed up at the agreed upon location; excited to take your taste buds on a culinary world tour without ever leaving Chicago with a real worldly chef. You thought you looked nice; carefully selected fashionable clothes (that ensured didn't look like you tried 'too hard') with chunky heels; your hair styled, make-up so perfect it could've been the featured look of a YouTube tutorial. Not wanting to wait on the sidewalk for safety reasons, you stepped into the fusion restaurant. After checking in with the hostess and earning a compliment from her on your fit, you were lead to a two-person table draped in navy linen with a contemporary floating candle centerpiece.
"Are you expecting company this evening?" She asked kindly, handing you a menu.
"Yeah, I'm just a little early. We're - yeah, no, I guess it's a date? He, um, he should be here soon," you rushed, flushing when you mentally scolded yourself that she didn't care and you needed to stop oversharing.
"Oh, no wonder you look so stylish!" She gushed. "He's gonna love it, you look beautiful - but not as much as I love your purse. I've always wanted one like it, but maybe in burgundy." You told her the store you got yours at, explaining it was a discount-department store buy, but the designer was sold at other easily accessible stores. It was nice to have a friendly, normal conversation; just two girlies, exchanging fashion tips which helped you feel all the calmer. The hostess who's badge read Laura nodded with a smile, "Is it okay to leave his menu here, then? I can take it back with me, if you wanna share?"
"No, no, you can leave it - I didn't bring my reading glasses," you tried to joke, wincing at the awkwardness.
"No problem," she set it down. "Can I get you anything in the meantime, honey?"
You almost laughed, instead smiling, "Oh, uh, water would be great, thank you."
The dining hall was relatively moderately full; several tables empty, waitstaff in matching navy uniforms dotted around, the lighting low to create a warm (or romantic) ambiance. You nervously checked the gold bracelet-watch inherited from your grandmother, clocking the time as 6:24.
There was no need to stress yet, so you studied the menu and made mental notes of what sounded good, what dish paired with what. A person could only look over menu options so many times, however, so you answered a few emails and texts before mindlessly scrolling through social medias to kill awkward time.
Around 7:05, your chest felt warm with something that made your intuition catch flame.
You texted Carmy: hey are you running late? you haven't texted me you're on the way yet 🤨
While to some, saying 'you haven't texted me yet' might sound a little overbearing, crazy, or pushy - maybe even spoiled - you did so because you knew how scatter brained Carmy was. He had an incredibly unpredictable, stressful, and chaotic job, which meant he sometimes lost track of time and needed reminders of other responsibilities / obligations outside The Beef, soon-to-be The Bear. You two had a friendship built on trust, fully able (and encouraged) to be yourselves and send borderline crazy messages to each other. You said it in person, why not over text?
The sweating glass of water was refilled, invisible timer ticking inconspicuously in the background, bread basket missing several sticks, the dining room now about 75% full.
Glancing around, you felt nauseated when you noted several couples enjoying romantic dinners; others with easy smiles and jovial laughter, happy to partake in the good tidings of loved ones. All around you, there was a smorgasbord of buzzing conversation you couldn't decipher. You had nothing else to do but focus on random moments of clarity, deducing some patrons were meeting for business; others were on dates, one table was celebrating their friend's new promotion, another, a birthday.
Yet here you sat, alone in the middle of a popular, high-trafficked restaurant; silent, isolated, feeling as if you were some zoo exhibit. Your plaque would read: Behold! The Stood-Up Single Woman!
While irrational, you felt other patron's beady eyes glazing over you - as if everyone could just tell what was happening. Their eyes made you sweat, feeling perceptive and heated, heavy and hateful. They watched you in your exhibit as if to affirm their situations could never be so bad because at least they weren't like you: stood-up, outcast, and humiliated. Their pity reeked. Their muttered words of prediction filled the stuffy space.
The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.
Tapping your phone screen set on the table, the time now glared as 7:33. So, you sent another text: uh, hello? Carmen! i thought we agreed to meet at 6:30? what's wrong?
Your message delivered, but there was no response.
Anxiety filled your heart, mind, and soul; being pumped through your veins to absorb in your bones - which created a sort of ripple effect within your chest and abdomen. Hair stood on the back of your neck. Stomach torqued in fear. Lungs deflated. Esophagus twisted. Chest hollowed and sunk. Right leg bounced at Olympic speed. Fingers twitched nervously, picking at cuticle, teeth chewing the skin off raw lips; eyes drawn to the entrance just in case Carmy showed up... In case anyone showed up. Skin burned and sizzled under the long, pitiful stares of patrons and employees alike. Heat flushed your body with embarrassment as if under Broadway stage lights; making you feel clammy and uncomfortable.
At 7:36, you double texted: Carmy?
Why wouldn't he answer you? Why wasn't his location updating? You worried something happened, he always messaged you when running late - so why not this time? Was something wrong? Did something happen? Wouldn't Sugar or Richie or one of the nine fucking Faks have called you?
The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.
At 7:45, Laura returned to your table, asking, "Would you like to see our drinks menu again?"
"Oh, uh, no, thank you, it's not necessary. Could I do another glass of Moscato, please?"
"Of course. Could I interest you in the bottle, you think?"
"At this point, yes ma'am," you chuckled at yourself.
"Any appetizers? Or more bread?" Laura asked sweetly.
You ordered multiple somethings to keep appearances, feeling bad you had sat there without ordering for so long; but also figuring if you were here, might as well enjoy trying something new, right? As the pretty young thing with a slicked back bun walked away, you were left to stare at the other undisturbed menu across from you, the candle wax dribbling into the water it floated on. Snatching your phone in hand, you glared at your message thread with Carmy, sending another: what the FUCK, Carm? answer your phone!
The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.
By 8:24, you had called him a total of 15 times.
The dining room was packed and poppin' by now, making shame cloud your shoulders from taking up precious optimal space on a popular date night. In truth, you didn't notice just how busy the dining room had gotten, but you know what they say? "Time flies when you're having fun," but it fucking trudges by in a mocking, lazy taunt when being actively humiliated.
At 8:32, your bottle of wine was polished off and you finally texted Richie: hey Cousin, is Carmy with you?
He answered within a fucking minute: no he left over a while ago for a date with Claire Bear
A record scratched in your brain, rapidly typing: what??? what does that mean???
Richie replied: damn, Cuzzo, you should know what a date is or has it been that long? 😂
Your throat swelled shut, nodding sadly and locking your phone; rolling your lips between your teeth to prevent yourself from having a very public, very emotional breakdown.
The invisible timer ticked slower, quieter.
With a sharp sniffle, you flagged Laura down, pointed at the menu, asking for your meal to-go and the check. She could hear the warble in your voice, so when she returned with your to-go order and check, Laura had snuck a couple extra things in your bag without charging you. And she only charged you for a glass of wine, not the bottle.
Laura earned herself a generous gratuitous tip as well as all the cash in your wallet, being a little over $150.
Returning home around 9:03, you could identify the dreadful feelings of rejection; how forgotten, taken for granted, disappointed, abandoned, replaced you felt. Unloading the food on the counter, you made yourself a plate and looked at your phone one last time. There was still nothing from Carmy, but Richie had texted you again: you good, Cuzzo? what you need Carmy for?
Changed into a set of cozy clothes, you curled up on the couch with your food and another glass of wine; faithful, loyal, loving dog(go) hopping up beside you. Switching something on the TV, you answered Richie with one hand while fending off the pup: nothing important anymore, Cuzzo. we can talk tomorrow!
It was a strange sensation; that blatant sting of betrayal and rejection from someone who was never supposed to hurt you. If Carmy didn't return your affection, that was okay! That was perfectly fine! That was ideal, even, because you never wanted to jeopardize losing him from your life so even if you couldn't be with him, you'd rather be his friend than nothing at all. But what isn't okay, is standing you up. Forgetting you. Neglecting you. Unjustly shaming you. Publicly humiliate you. Disrespecting you. After over a decade of friendship, didn't you deserve better than that? Of course, you did - so why did Carmy subject you to such degradation? Was Claire so hypnotizing, enchanting, bewitching, she successfully managed to block all your Carmy sensors? Or were you just that forgettable?
There were too many overwhelming emotions pinballing around your heart, mind, and soul to even begin processing. So, you cuddle your most loyal companion who would never betray or abandon you, ate what you could, polished off any wine, set several alarms on your phone, and laid down on your couch to be lulled into restlessness by the sounds of whatever comfort show was left on.
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After getting up early to shower off the previous night, you got ready for work and made the trek through the city. While your couch was comfortable, you didn't sleep well; eyes heavy from their sting, second cup of coffee already in your travel mug, movements sluggish. You would've called out, but today was one of those days you had to go over some legal and logistical shit with your Uncle Cicero.
So here you were.
"Yo, Cuzzo! Hey-hey, good mornin', sweetheart!"
With a tired sigh, you spied Richie outside The Beef, smoking, watching you with a smirk. "Mornin', Richie-Rich," you tried to sound as if you hadn't been awake all night.
"Well, don't you look fuckin' peachy?"
"Fuck off, I'm not in the mood."
He held a hand out to prevent you from passing him, asking, "Yo... Hold on, what's good with you? And don't feed me no bullshit, I know something's wrong. You look like shit - but I mean that in concern, Cuzzo."
You decided not to comment, answering instead, "I just didn't sleep last night."
"Uh-huh... And?"
"And what?"
"That's it?"
You shrugged, "Nothing else worth dwelling over."
Richie cocked his head, "The fuck does that mean? Here," he offered his cigarette, which you accepted.
"Nothing's wrong, can we just - "
"Fuck all the way off," he scoffed, "you know the sooner you tell me, the sooner I stop askin'."
"It's... It's really stupid, Cousin."
"Don't make no difference to me; if it's bothering you, tell me."
You dropped the butt of the cigarette to the sidewalk, squashing it under your heel before leaning back into the wall with a long sigh. "I should preface this all by admitting, I might have feelings for Carmy - "
"Yeah, no fucking shit," Richie laughed, seeing your deadpanned expression. "Dude, holy shit, everyone can see it except you two idiots, it was high time someone admitted it. Tina and Mikey used to have a bet going about y'all ending up together."
Your frown deepened. "Right, well, glad everyone's so entertained and well-versed on my doomed love life," your eyes rolled.
"'Doomed'?" Richie chuckled, stopping when your expression turned crestfallen, rushing, "Woah, hey, I'm just teasin' you. C'mon, Honey, tell me how you're doomed?"
You were quiet, staring at your sneakers as you tried to build the courage to verbalize the situation. See, once you said it out loud (and to anyone), it becomes tangible, public, and undeniably real. You didn't want this to be real.
Just as Richie was opening his mouth to question (or nag) you, you admitted, "Carmy and I had plans to go to dinner last night..."
Richie paused, then asked, "But he was with Claire?"
"Exactly."
"I... Don't think I follow, Cuzzo?"
You huffed, "Cousin, Carm asked me to dinner, right?" Richie nodded. "He picked the time and place, then apparently, made plans with Claire but didn't tell the other. So, I got there last night, right? I waited for two hours, Cousin, but Carmy never showed, never answered my messages. He stood me up. He chose Claire."
"Are you fucking serious?"
"Unfortunately."
"Wait, lemme get this straight. So, he asked you out?"
"Yes."
"And made a legit plan? To link up? Time, place, whole thing?"
"Yeah."
Richie readjusted his stance, his anger flaring - reminding you of the diagram Lilo drew for Stitch to show how full of 'bad' he was. "And you're saying, you got there, waited for him for hours - fuckin' plural - and he didn't show up? No text, no call, no nothing?"
"Correct. I called and texted plenty, though. No answer."
"Right, but he didn't cancel your date when Claire came in the picture? Or vice versa, what-the-fuck-ever?"
"Nah."
"Just left you there? Alone?"
"Yep."
"Hold up, hold up. Homie made a date with Claire Bear before or after he made one with you?"
"Now that, I don't know. But does it matter which date came first, he still stood me up for someone else."
Richie blinked a few times, nodding silently with pursed lips. Then he snarled and tried to surge past you for the door, "Oh, I'll fuckin' kill him - "
"Yo, yo, yo, hang on! Wait, hold up! Leave it be, Cousin, it's not worth the hassle - "
"Nah, nah, nah! He doesn't get off scot-free! Nobody puts Baby in a corner and nobody fucks with Honey!" The two of you tussled on the sidewalk, you refusing to let him pass but him being stronger. It was quite the sight.
"No more Dirty Dancing references!"
"Hater! Lemme go, Honey!"
"Listen to me! Please, for fuck's sake! I don't want this to be anything bigger than it already is! Listen to me, I just want to get some work done with Cicero and go home. Okay? Okay? Goddamnit, Richie! It's not the time for this! Leave it alone for today! I just want peace!"
Richie eventually calmed down enough to let you push him back a couple feet. It took two more cigarettes, but you managed to pacify Richie enough for you to enter The-under-construction-Beef together, discovering most employees already present. Yet, in a rare and odd occurrence, Carmy wasn't; which would've normally confused or worried you, but now, only relieved you. As project manager, you worked intimately with Carmy on a daily basis - which poses as an obstacle if you were trying to avoid him - but without him, you could focus on getting work done and not dodging him.
"Behave," you reminded Richie in a lower register. He swatted at you, picking at a donut Marcus created.
"Mornin', Miss Mamas," Tina greeted, glancing over her shoulder to flash you a warm smile - requiring a double take. "Oh, baby, you look exhausted."
"I feel exhausted," you cleared your throat, greeting her with a quick peck to her cheek.
"Oh! So she can say it and it's fine? But when I do it, it's an issue? This is hypocrisy! Double standard bullshit!" Richie barked with laughter, shuffling past with a swift peck to your temple. Tina pushed at his belly as he passed, making him grunt and flinch dramatically.
You asked Tina, "Is Cicero here yet?"
"In the back with Sugar, baby."
"Thank you, Chef."
Richie watched you walk away from Tina only for Marcus to stop you, then Ibrahim needed something and it looked like everyone was gearing up to bring some kind of problem to your plate. Like a good cousin, Richie swooped in to place a donut in your hand, "All right, all right, back off, you jagoffs, let the lady breathe." He shooed you onward, feeling protective enough to intercept anyone to give you the space you needed after last night. You told him you wanted to work and go home, so he was going to do what he could to give that to you. The moment you disappeared into the office, Richie hissed to any surrounding employees, "Get the fuck over here!"
"The fuck, Richie?" Tina snipped, "We got work t'do, baby."
"I know," he rushed, glancing over his shoulder, then back at the others, "but I want everyone to go. Fuckin'. Easy. On Y/N today. Okay? Got it? She's got some shit to do with Cicero and then she's gonna go home - so, let's make sure that happens, no exceptions."
"What happened? What's wrong? Is she okay?" Marcus asked in concern, his frown deep enough to lower his brows.
"Yeah, Richie, you can't say that and then not explain," Syd tacked on. "I'll talk to her. -"
With grit teeth, Richie scooted in front of Syd and warned, "Hey. She's my fuckin' family, right? I'll protect her from anything - including you jagoffs, so leave her alone today. Okay? That's all I'm asking - Leave. Her. Alone." He glanced around and lowered his voice as the others all dipped inward to hear him, "Fuckin' Carmy asked her onna date last night then stood her up and went out with Claire instead."
This caused an angry ripple to emit from the huddle. You were none the wiser; in the office, sat at the desk to go over what Sugar had prepared for your review. Cicero leaned on the desk beside your chair, arms crossed, just watching you as if a bug under a magnifying glass. He pushed his glasses up by one finger to the noseband, glancing at Sugar and asking, "You all right, doll?" There was a pause, then a hand nudged your shoulder, "Honey? You hear me?"
"Hmm?" You looked up, "Oh, wait, sorry, were you talkin' to me, Unc?"
"Yeah, darling. I mean, you look pretty tired, just asking if you're all right?"
"Wow, I come into work as my most beautiful, natural self and all anyone can say is I look tired?" You laughed, trying to lighten the mood, "Maybe I do need make-up."
"You're also in joggers."
"I didn't feel like putting jeans on this morning, sue me."
"And you're quiet as hell."
"So? Usually you're telling me to shut up."
"You have a college degree in yapping," Cicero chuckled, "so when you go silent, I know something's wrong."
"I'd have multiple PhD's if yapping was a real major," you joked. "But I promise, Unc, I'm all right. I didn't sleep last night, so, after we get this shit done, I'm gonna head out."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive, Unc. Tell you what, you can even drive me home when we're done."
Cicero nodded, "Good deal. Then, let's get crackin'."
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It was the worst timing in the History of Clocks.
Pete called Sugar several times, so she finally answered when Cicero needed to run to the restroom; leaving you alone and defenseless in the office as Richie was out back for a smoke break. Carmen apparently arrived just in time, all but bolting into the office when he didn't immediately clock you in the kitchen.
The invisible timer began to tick.
"There you are!" Carmy gasped, startling you enough for your knees to bang up into the desk. "Ohhh, shit," he blinked when you grunted and rubbed your legs, "I'm so sorry, Honey, that was my fault, I should've called or something as I came in."
"It's fine, Carmen. Look, uh," you gestured to the paperwork before you, "we're almost done here, do you need something or can it wait? Kinda your restaurant on the clock..."
"I mean, it can wait, but are you busy, like, right now-right now? 'Cause, lookit, I gotta tell you, I had the best fucking night. I'm so serious, Honey. I went out with Claire - you remember Claire, right? - and it was, wow, just wow - I mean, this girl is the whole package, you know?" You bristled when he took a seat on the edge of your workspace and realized he was carefully avoiding usual pet names. He continued to ramble on about his incredible date with the incredible Claire, missing your lips pursed in patient annoyance as you listened to him without reaction; staring emotionlessly at the laptop screen. "Hey," Carmy waved a hand in front of you, causing you to flinch and automatically look towards him - albeit in annoyance. "Where are you right now? You're not here, in the present with me. You all right?"
You couldn't help but bite, "Mhm. Where's your phone?"
The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.
"What?"
"Your phone, Carmy, the thing you pay a monthly bill for so people can get in touch with you, or you with them. Ring any bells? Where's your phone, it'll play bells for you."
"Woah, hey," his hands went up in defense, "what's with the hostility? I left my phone somewhere here last night, Honey."
"Oh, sure. How convenient - "
"No, look, I'm serious - look, look around the fuckin' desk!"
You glared at him before shuffling the few papers and files, ready to snarl at him when you found his phone. "Why's it here?" You asked stiffly, handing over the shut-off device.
"I forgot it, I was in a bit of a rush."
"There a reason for your rushing?"
"Yeah, to get to my date with Claire - see, you weren't even listening to me, were you?" He let a twinge of frustration taint his tone, "You wanna bite my fuckin' head off about my fuckin' phone that I forgot at work, fine; but you're so mad about it that you didn't even listen to me? Jesus, fuck, who are you, my mother?"
You swear you heard 'oooohs' coming from outside the office.
"Oh, fuck you, Carmen! How about you check your messages before trying to come at me, you fuckin' bitch," you snapped, slapping your laptop closed and starting to pack up the desk.
"What the fuck are you so pissed off for? 'Cause I didn't text you 'goodnight' or 'good morning'? Grow the fuck up - "
"Hey!" Cicero charged into the office, interrupting the argument. "I don't know what the fuck is happening, but we're busy in here, Carmy - "
"No, actually... Actually, we're done for the day, Unc, I can do everything else at home."
"No, Honey, hang on - "
You stood abruptly to gather the last files from the desk, "No, it's fine, I'm exhausted anyway. I got stood up last night waiting for this jackass, so as you can imagine, I just want to go home, away from any and all others right now."
"Woah, hang on," Carmy pleaded, checking his repeatedly dinging phone he managed to turn on, "wait, what the fuck is this? Why did you call me - holy shit, seventeen times?!"
"Could you drop me at home, Uncle?" You pleaded softly.
"Of course, princess, but what the fuck is going on?"
You could only manage a fake, sad smile, "Carmy's the jackass who stood me up last night."
"No fuckin' shit!" Cicero gasped, looking between you. "Uh, yeah, yeah, Honey, sure, I can take you home, c'mon, let's go."
"I left these for Sugar, they're all filled out if she can just file them - the rest I can do from home," you tapped the files left behind, leading the way out of the office; Carmy stood to the side in shock as he caught up on his messages. "Think we could grab something to eat on the way?" You asked, desperate for distraction.
"Whatever you want, doll, of course," Cicero agreed easily, following you at a close range. The others scattered like roaches, pretending they weren't listening, but... C'mon... You know?
The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.
"Wait! Wait, Honey! Please, hang on," Carmy called after you, repeatedly shouting your name. "Wait, please, wait, wait, wait, hang on!" He pleaded in a race against time to clear the kitchen and reach you before you could walk away from him for good. His hand wrapped around your upper arm in a desperate attempt to stop you, but it only made you flinch.
"Carmen," Cicero spat in warning.
"It's okay, Unc. It's okay, we should probably hash this out, you know? I can - I'll meet you out front," you promised softly, patting his arm raised to protect you from Carmy's grab.
The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.
Cicero gave a 'harrumph' and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, glaring at Carm before taking his leave. You huffed and crossed your arms, turning to face your best friend, sneering, "What could you possibly have to say to me? You said enough last night."
"The fuck does that mean, we didn't even talk!"
You snapped, "Your silence was really fucking informative, Carmen!"
"That's what you're not fucking explaining to me! I don't even know what you're mad about!"
There was satirical amusement donning your expression as you gave a gruff chortle of disbelief. So, you broke it down, "By you not canceling the second you and Claire made plans or remembered you made plans with her first, by not answering me all night and humiliating me, leaving me there, alone, so you could go out with Claire said all I needed to hear. It was all you had to say. You were so fucking loud, it's a miracle I haven't burst an eardrum!"
"Honey," he sighed like you were a child throwing a tantrum, "it was an honest mistake. I don't get why you're blowing this up? We've literally forgotten about plans before, just help me understand why this one is so different? I want to fix this, tell me what the fuck is going on!"
Speaking of bursting an eardrum, the invisible timer ticked louder, faster.
Tears broke your waterline, "You've always been my best friend, Carm."
"You're mine, too - "
"But at some point, things changed for me. I get it's a personal problem, so I kept quiet because I loved being your friend, being in your life - I tried not to be greedy, but now I see we were just racing this inevitable clock. When you and I went through everything with Mikey, I thought it made us closer, stronger - "
"It did!"
" - but I also thought that maybe you weren't seeing me as before, as some kid, but as I am now - a woman."
"Honey..."
"Let me finish," you bit off, tears dripping down both your cheeks. "I still never said anything, I never wanted to pressure you, and truthfully, I always knew you had a thing for Claire, I knew one day someone would come around and replace me, but I still loved you. Despite everything with my family, with yours, I loved you. Despite any of my own reservations, my own fear about ruining what we have because it's better than losing you completely, I loved you. Despite the physical distance and all of your emotional distance, I loved you. And then, you come up to me, out of nowhere, and you asked me to go out with you. Twice, you phrased it that way, Carm."
"Honey, baby, please - "
"You asked me to go out with you, you set the time and place, I agreed. I showed up... I sat there as people came and went through the night, Carmen. It was humiliating an-and degrading and mortifying. Only to find out within seconds from Richie that you had left for a date with Claire - when there I was, alone, waiting for you, too. Like I said, I always knew you had a thing for her, and I knew one day someone would replace me, but holy fucking shit, Carm, I thought you had a little more decency, more respect than that after years of friendship - "
"How could you say that to me?" Carmy snapped with tears racing down both your cheeks, mindful of the distance as to not crowd you. "Knowing you're my best friend, the only person - "
"How could you leave me there, Carmen!?" You cried, making him freeze. "That was downright cruel and so fucking hurtful. So much so, in fact... I-It makes me feel we shouldn't talk for a while."
"What?"
"I'm so sorry, Carm, but I just - I don't think it's fair to anyone involved, nor those around us, to remain friends right now. So, we just... Need a break, or something. Being your friend is too fucking hard and so exhausting, it's been at my expense... We just need a break."
"No, hey, h-h-hang on a second, baby, wait, please," he halted you from turning away. "Listen to me, please, I'm so sorry. I really am, sweetheart, I'm so fucking sorry. Okay? I-I'm so sorry I forgot my phone and didn't see your calls or texts - "
You let your hand wave as if to physically pause the conversation, breathing, "That's what you think I'm upset about?"
"Well, yeah, and I'm sorry I couldn't call you, but you saw, you found it - I forgot my phone!"
"No... No, you didn't forget your phone, Carmen. Jesus Christ, you forgot me," you whispered, taking two steps back so he couldn't touch you even if he tried. "I really don't think we should talk anymore, okay? What you did was really fucked up, what you made me feel was even worse. I'll still help with the restaurant, I promised I would, and unlike you, I can be taken for my word because it means something. But I don't think you and I should work together, you make me so fucking uncomfortable - "
"No, hey, wait, baby, please, listen, listen, listen - I made one mistake," he pleaded, trying to step towards you but you reared back another three. "W-Why're you punishing me - punishing us - for one mistake? Please, Honey, I know I fucked up, but let me fix this!"
"Well, a stitch in time saves nine."
"The fuck?" Carmy chided, eyes narrowed.
"It means by doing proper the first time, you avoid problem later - but you don't have a lick of accountability, do you? No forethought, no comprehension to how your actions will affect others! It's not just 'one mistake', it's not just you standing me up, Carmy! Jesus, fuck, it's everything! I just poured my fucking heart out and you can't even say you love me back, can you?" You gave no time to answer, "No, of course not, because it's Claire - it's always gonna be Claire! It's always gonna be someone! So, I-I can't play second fiddle anymore, I won't - I can't be in love with you while you're in love with someone else, Carm. You've kept me on your back burner for too long, you forgot me, so you're not allowed to be surprised the kettle still whistles. I just can't do this, Carm, it's complicated and it hurts, it's not fair to either of us. So, I'll remove myself, no problem and work from home, but if I have to be here, please, limit our interactions best you can. For my sake, I'm begging you, give me fucking space."
"You're just gonna throw us away? I fuck up once, and that's it? Just like that?" Carmy begged, sounding earnestly confused. He looked like a kicked puppy. It broke your heart in a way last night couldn't. "I made one mistake, Honey, okay, yes, I take full responsibility! Please, let me try to fix this, okay? Please? I'm so sorry, I know that doesn't cover it, but lemme try to make all of this up to you. C'mon, baby, please, don't let me be the reason we both lose - just - okay, just let me fix this, please!"
"No, you know what? I'm not throwing anything away, I never did, Carm, you did when you chose Claire over me," you shrugged, tears strangling you once more. "Now, I need space... Can you give that to me or is that too much to ask for?"
"Why're you talkin' t'me like that? I-I'll give you whatever you ask for, Honey, you know that," Carmen sniffled, eyes reddening by the minute; hands going from hips to hair to forehead and back, unsure what to do.
You managed to get out, "I don't even know you anymore, it seems," before fleeing the kitchen, lungs choking on nothing. You couldn't get air in. You couldn't push any out, it was all so choppy and violent. With a hollow chest, you escaped out the front door; hating that you had to ignore Sugar and Richie calling after you, stumbling on the sidewalk and into Cicero's idling car.
"All right, let it out, you're all right, Honey. You're safe with Uncle Cicero," he soothed, rubbing your back as he pulled into traffic. "I know, I know... We all know, I'm so sorry this happened. What a fuckin' jagoff - you want me to pull my money from this restaurant? I'll do it - I'll do whatever - "
"No, no, no," you whimpered, sniffling and wiping your cheeks. "While I appreciate your ready and willingness to defend me, I don't want it at Carm's expense. I'll just work from home, it's not a big deal, and then... Maybe if I have to come in, I know Richie will be there to be a buffer, but maybe you could - "
"I'll be there whenever you ask, princess, you know that."
"Thank you," you squeaked as he drove past your usual street. "Oh, uh, I'm down South - "
"I thought we could make a run to the store, make sure you have all your comfort snacks so you don't have to go back out. Or do you wanna go straight home? You tell me, princess."
You gave a watery smile, a new wave of emotion choking your words, "Snacks would be really nice, thank you."
"You have dinner?"
"I don't know - "
"We'll get you some," he comforted, patting your knee as you just needed a safe space to cry. And for now, that was the front seat of your Uncle Cicero's 6-figure car.
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You knew it was a formal invitation the moment you caught sight of it at your doorstep, indicating it was hand-delivered and not sent through the mail. It sent a flurry of unknown emotion through your veins; angry by its arrival, yet excited by what it meant. With a glance up and down the hall of your apartment landing, you found yourself alone; bending to pluck up the envelope and enter your home. Keys to the bowl, shoes left at the door in the foyer, coat hung up, purse deposited to the available end table; phone being pocketed as you turned for the kitchen to drop all mail on the counter.
You didn't open anything.
Instead, you got on with your evening after working your usual 9-5. After a steaming-hot shower, you smeared on a facemask to hydrate your tired skin; then shimmied into soft loungewear and fixed your hair for the night. In the living room, you turned on Netflix for background noise before scouring your kitchen for an appropriate dinner that would hopefully nourish you after such a busy day. You debated a glass of wine, thinking you didn't need it, but then pouring one as the glittering envelope taunted you from where you left it. You drank, glaring at the little piece of stationary as you cooked a simple stir fry concoction. Carmy taught you to clean while you cook, so, once your meal was dished up and whatever could've been stored in the dishwasher was, you poured yet another glass of wine, snatched the invitation, then nestled in the living room with your meal.
You still didn't open it.
The coffee table was larger than others; big enough to double as a work desk; the perfect height for you to still access while lounged back on the sofa. You had all kinds of documents spread, most pertaining to The Bear - which was finally set to open in about a week. It would've been an exhilarating time of celebration... Should you have been able to feel anything other than outright heartache.
For weeks now, you hadn't spoken to Carmy, the longest you've gone in your lives. You simply weren't ready to face the other side of rejection; spending this time building yourself up as an independent woman who didn't need no man, even if that man was your best friend. The idea that there was no place for you in Carmy's life or room for him in yours felt farfetched and illegal in some manner, as if it were taboo. You had a lot of navigating to do, and much farther to go, but for now, you were still in the adjustment phase. Never had you been without each other, it was weird to think this was it, there wasn't any going back; at least, not from you, yet, after such a putrid display of disrespect.
While you were stood up in just one restaurant, you avoided the entire marketplace as a whole out of sheer embarrassment. Granted, it wasn't a place you frequented, but it was still a hotspot some other friends had discovered and wanted to meet at for your weekly hang-outs. You couldn't tell them how triggered you felt because you didn't want to limit places to go, so, you figured bailing on them was the better option. It's not like you lied when you said you couldn't see them because of work - which was typically really crazy - but you could still make time if you wanted to; you had before. That's how much Carmy's hurt debilitated you, though.
Your plate was left to the side, dog sniffing around in the hopes of licking up whatever scraps you might've dropped; one hand holding the glass of wine, the other pinching the envelope by the corner. Deciding it was now or never, you ripped open the seal and retrieved the contents with delicate fingers, as if it would burn you.
The invisible timer started to tick.
You ignored the use of parchment paper. You ignored the perfume slightly wafting from it. You ignored the familiar script in silky ink. You ignored the certain choices you remember picking out, now used officially on the friends and family opening night invite.
You smiled sadly, letting the parchment card fall to the envelope left on the coffee table's corner. You took a long breath in, jaw wriggling; tears slowly forming, but not falling. For weeks, you had avoided any direct reminder of what happened; knowing you still worked as project manager, but able to sort of schedule your emotions around deadlines and necessary interactions. This particular piece of mail was impending, but unexpected today; where being invited to see the completed restaurant you helped design and erect was all but expected - just not today, per se. While every fiber of your being wanted to attend, nothing felt right about accepting when you knew you'd more than likely run into Claire and would have to interact with the others.
It felt too soon.
You had no right to go around any of them anymore.
What would you say?
Sniffling your emotion with a deep sigh, you leaned back to your back couch cushion with the last of your wine tipping to your mouth. While petting your pooch fondly, you wrestled mentally pros and cons, different logistics, like: who did you message your rejection or acceptance to? Did you bring a date? Did you go with Cicero? Were you supposed to wait after the crowd cleared to mingle with your friends? Were they still your friends? What did you wear? Should you make legit plans with other people so you had plenty of distraction that evening? So you had a solid alibi? Would anyone even question your absence?
Your dog whined when your phone vibrated violently in a phone call from another cushion. With a sigh, you leaned forward to set your wine glass down and snatch the offending object, answering, "Hey, Unc."
"Hey, princess. You busy? This a bad time?"
"No, no, I just finished dinner and am trying to will myself to finish the dishes. What're you up to?"
"Gettin' ready for bed - just wanted to check in on you..."
"Ohhh, I get it - so, you got a pretty little invite in the mail, too, huh?"
"I got something, yeah. I think it looks pretty nice, don't you think? Definitely Sugar's design."
You held back your sarcastic quip about how you had all but designed the invites, so, you answered instead, "Yeah, real nice, Unc, yeah, she's got real talent. You goin'?"
"Uh-huh, no beating 'round the bush with you, is there?" He sighed, making you smirk broadly, "I am, I'm goin', gotta visit my money, you know? Well, I was wonderin' if you wanted to go with me?"
"Oh, Unc - "
"I know, I know, but it could be nice. Just us! Or we could double date? My treat - I'm paying - "
"I don't know if I can go yet, I haven't checked my schedule. I got home, made dinner, ate, answered your call."
"Oh, shit," he laughed. "Well, you think about it and let me know, Honey, okay? Okay, seriously, it'll be nice, we can go together, or separate - you know, don't let me cramp your style."
You laughed, "Nah, you kinda up my game."
"As I should. All right, pumpkin, well, I should run - but you think about it, let me know what you think, okay?"
"Okay, Unc, sounds good. We'll talk soon, I love you. Goodnight."
"Love you, too, doll, goodnight."
The invisible timer ticked louder.
The invitation was the only thing clipped to the front of your fridge. It taunted you at every passing moment. For days, it demanded your attention - succeeding only because you knew you had to RSVP to someone. Friday loomed closer and closer, Cicero had sent you two reminder texts, and try as you might, the fracture to your heart wasn't easily plastered.
There was nothing but heavy pain each time you thought about attending, so, on Wednesday night, you texted Sugar: hey babe! love that F&F is happening! sadly i have some work shit to do so i can't be there ☹️💔 but the invites are gorgeous! congrats on everything, i can't wait to see it! thanks for thinking of me for the guest list! good luck on Friday! 😘
Then you texted Cicero you couldn't make it, and while he understood, Sugar replied: Thank you, my love. Fak was so proud to show us how to work Canva for those invites 😂 Sure there isn't anything I can do to change your mind? We'd all love to see you there!
You answered: no way, this looks like real handwriting! technology's going too far. and yeah babes, i'm sure, i got work shit so unless you yell at my boss, i'm kinda stuck 😂
Curiously, Sugar requested a photo of your invite; but without curiosity, she also requested your boss' phone number. After you sent the image, she replied: Oh wow! I guess Carmy went rogue and gave you a fancy handwritten invite. What a jerk. Is he still a jerk? I can't remember, we haven't talked about what happened! 🥲
You promised: nothing to talk about now, Sugar Mama. all good! i gotta run but i love you congrats again, gooooooooodnight! ❤️
You hated avoidance; the dejection, festering unworthiness, self-imposed punishment and isolation. Yet it was all you had now, rationalizing you were protecting yourself and this was a necessary defense for your newly instated peace. Sometimes, you had to do things like miss events because you're healing - and that should always take precedence because you were nobody's priority but your own.
You put a red line on your calendar through the words 'THE BEAR', nodding as if in assurance of your decision, then yanked the invitation from your fridge. Yet you hovered over the trash can, fingering the lettering and remembering Sugar's text: Carmy went rogue and gave you a fancy handwritten invite.
The trash can lid slammed shut.
The invisible timer ticked slower, quieter.
In your bedroom, you pulled a handheld trunk from your closet and knelt to the floor. Inside the trunk, you had placed all triggering Carmy centric mementos and memorabilia; dropping the invite to the towering piles. You carefully pushed some letters out of the way to pick up the journal he gifted from Denmark; flipping it open to any random page for study. Then you compared it to your invite and let a small, fond smile tug on yours lips; confirming it was Carmy's script, that he had, indeed, gone rogue.
When the trunk shut, so did the lid of your feelings.
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Opening night had been something of a disaster, but the staff was ready to handle whatever obstacle. Granted, the head chef getting locked in the walk-in freezer wasn't on anyone's bingo card, Sydney was still a fucking superstar and commanded the kitchen in a gorgeously fluid and respectful manner. Richie stepped up and proved he was a newly-appointed expert in hospitality. Fak could take... some... direction. All in all, while not ideal or what was expected, it was an incredibly successful opening night! The staff was all rightfully proud of themselves, riding euphoric adrenaline highs.
The invisible timer began ticking.
Despite knowing Carmy had been freed from the freezer, nobody could locate him. Some theorized he went home to blow off steam, others teased maybe he went home with Claire - missing the way she left in tears earlier. However, when Tina, Fak, Syd, and Richie left the kitchen, they paused and let their proud smiles drop upon discovery of Carmy sitting, alone, in a back booth of his restaurant.
A dim, yet unmistakable comparison to what he did to you months ago.
There was temptation to leave him there; the entirety of the staff pissed off to the point they were giving Carm the cold shoulder for what he did to you. They credited you with damn near everything "The Bear" was, because while not your idea, not your dream, you gave it life and brought this place into fruition. Not to mention, you had taken on work as project manager for free - paid in the value of knowing you were helping such a good cause. A good family. It was a repeating fact; your everlasting endearment and compulsive support for anything and everything 'Berzatto'.
Yet despite their own simpering feelings, it was all dwarfed on examination of Carmy's decidedly pathetic statue. Syd felt a level of guilt the entire night, feeling it increase on sight of her technical boss; but to Fak, Richie, and Tina, who took Carm's slight against you personally, this was a heart-melting sight. There was a strange, mutual desire where the group went from wanting to kick Carmy's ass to just wanting to give him a hug and help the poor emotionally-inept dumbass.
"Go," Tina snarled quietly, pinching Richie's under arm.
"Me!?" He spat in shock, "Man, hell nah, fuck that guy!"
"Fuck you, too, Richie, c'mon," Sydney chided, pushing past them to lead the way up to Carmy. "Uh... Heeey, Chef?" She greeted in an unsure, sing-song voice.
"Chefs," he nodded meekly, immediately looking back to his anxiously twiddling fingers.
"Hey, Carm," Fak smiled warmly. "Whatcha doin' here, bud? Why're you all alone? In the dark? That's kinda creepy, dude."
"Nah, nothin'. Just, uh... Just waitin'."
"For what?" Fak asked, Richie smacking his arm. The tattooed man with a mustache flinched and cried, "What!? Now I can't ask my friends questions!? He's the one sitting in the dark like the Undertaker! Jesus!"
"Dude, just pause, be quiet," Richie scolded, shaking his head to silence the confused Fak. At Carmy, Richie directed, "Yo, Cousin, c'mon, let's just - let's all go home. C'mon, man, let's go. It's closing time."
"Yeah, yeah, uh," Carmy sniffled, "you guys go 'head, I'm gonna wait up for a bit."
"Carmy, it's late," Syd tried, "we aren't just gonna leave you here. So, come with us."
"Yeah, baby, c'mon," Tina tacked on in sympathy, "it's been a helluva night, we should all get some rest."
Fak and Syd and Tina all tried to encourage him with them, but Richie remained silent; just surveying the Chef. When a natural lull came after Carmy insisted again they go on without him, Richie scoffed, "Dude, c'mon... You know she's not comin'."
The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.
"Richie," Tina hissed.
"What?" He barked with his hand raised, glaring at Carm. "C'mon, man, it's late, she knew what time this was - and she told Sugar she couldn't make it 'cause of work. That's pretty definite. So... So, c'mon, let's go, dude, she's not comin'."
Before anyone could intervene again, Carmy snapped, "You don't know her like I do, Cousin."
"Know what? Fine," Richie laughed sardonically, "fucking fine, rot here for all I care, man - "
"No, c'mon, Richie! Hey! Don't be like that!" Tina called after him, sighing in defeat. "Sorry, Chef, I gotta run - " She leaned into the booth to peck Carmy's cheek before rushing her farewells to the others, then running out the door, calling, "Richie! Wait, baby, hold on!"
Sydney and Fak awkwardly stood around, not knowing what to do or say, so Carmy insisted they go home, too; he was gonna wait just a little longer for you then head out. They believed him, or at least, enough to listen to their bodies and go home for some form of rest. Carmy twisted the locks on all doors after them, leaving only the front undone with his seat facing directly forward.
The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.
He waited with his elbows on bouncing knees. He waited and devised his nonnegotiable list. He waited with his feet in the booth. He waited while rearranging his ideal table setting. He waited and redid the tape in the walk-in. He waited on the sidewalk, chain smoking. He waited while scrubbing the kitchen, top-to-bottom. He waited and took liquor inventory.
He waited, replaying the events of your fight in his mind. He hated what he said, how he behaved, the expression on your face; praying you'd accept his olive branch - thinking a handwritten invitation was enough. Carmy just assumed you'd remember he was better at talking rather than writing or texting - hoping his script was enough for you to know he wanted to see you in person, not just send messages of apology. He wanted you to have space, he thought a couple of months was enough; so, hopefully you were still fluent in the words he never spoke or wrote.
This inspired Carmy to call Richie's phone to leave a voicemail of apology and love after reminiscing their own fight. It also made him want to call you, too - but this urge was resisted when the image of your heartbroken expression shot to mind.
The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.
Eventually, Carmy settled in the corner booth; arms crossed, feet up, still watching the door. He noted the sun was rising and the city waking up; cars buzzing by, commuters starting to crowd the sidewalk. His eyes burned with the yearn for sleep, yet his mind would not quell; unable to forget your tears, the devastation you showed, how he was the sole cause of it all.
Carmy repeated he was a failure, he let you down and betrayed any and all trust the pair of you had in one another. He should've told you the truth; that he could see himself loving you romantically, he just never thought it was an option, so it purely wasn't on his radar. In Carmy's mind, even trying to cross such an important friendzone could make you feel unsafe if you didn't feel the same way; so it was something he wrote off long ago. It was part of why Claire was so tempting to him, but he needed you - like a fish needed water.
He was able to comprehend (now) that his actions weighed on more than himself, but you, too; that given proximity, you were forever doomed - or destined - to be his collateral damage. Carmy also understood this wasn't a lease you could continue to cosign for any longer when he desecrated the house and home your friendship lived in. So, it was his job to prove he could be the man you fell in love with, that he could deserve you; all he needed was a chance, and it was better late than never.
Understandably, Carmy felt pitiful, purely ridiculous that this is what it took for him to realize nobody mattered to him more than you; nobody could ever compare, there would never be a competition. That he didn't care for Claire's thoughts, opinions, nor ideas like yours; how he found himself wanting to impress you, not her; hating when his phone rang with her ID and not yours. You had given Carmen exactly what he wanted, and yet, it was everything he hated and nothing he needed. Carmy prayed to an unspecified deity that your decade+ friendship was strong enough to withstand - or recover from - his insolence.
Yet when the front door opened, it revealed only Richie; a delight unto itself, but not the ray of sunshine the mournful Chef desired.
The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.
Carmy deflated with definitive defeat into the booth, tears falling in rapid finality. His lips parted just a fraction to let his breath escape in easier huffs, a buzzing whine filling his ears as icy realization washed over him: your friendship was truly well and over.
"Cooked," as the kids say. Your friendship was cooked.
Richie paused in the walkway, sighing deeply before slowly moseying over. He silently placed a twin cup of coffee to the table and dropped to the booth across from Carmy, both silent and stewing. Richie peaked up first, finding Carmen's attention locked on the door like a golden retriever; but the flooding tears halted any derisive comment he instinctively wanted to hurl. Richie asked before taking a sip of coffee, "She didn't show, did she?"
The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.
"Nah, she didn't," Carmy whispered, the tears flowing faster, "'cause I really fucked up this time, Cousin. She's really fuckin' done with me. Not that I blame her, but... But holy shit..." Carmy dissolved into lung-stuttering tears, bowing his head in shame as he obviously attempted to get a handle on his emotions; only ever used to having them freely around you.
Richie sighed and leaned over the table to clap his hand to Carm's shoulder, muttering, "Hey, hey... For what it's worth, I'm really fuckin' sorry, Carmen... I am, I know you love her." His lips rolled between his teeth, letting Carm have his (several, long) moments before trying to sound lighter, "Look, of course, Honey didn't show up to open, but she doesn't have a malicious bone in her body. You haven't shown her you're sorry! She's still pissed off and worse, she's hurt, Cousin! Know what I mean?
"I know," Carmy whispered in despair.
The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.
"So, cut the fuckin' shit, man, time is of the essence! Maybe if you, like, stopped fuckin' cryin' and actually try fuckin' apologizin', Honey'll soften up - you know, like, feel safe enough to come around sometimes. Maybe be a li'l more receptive to you not being so much of a dickhead?"
This made Carmen perk up slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose, questioning, "The fuck are you talkin' 'bout?"
"The fuck did I just say? Get off your ass and apologize to that girl who's so sweet, she's literally called Honey. She's human, she just wants your remorse, dude, you owe it to her; so apologize and leave her be, and when she's ready, she'll let us know, maybe even come back 'round."
The invisible timer ticked slower, quieter.
After a pause, Carmy asked, "Think she'll come back?"
"Only time will tell. Apologize first, you inconsiderate jagoff."
"Way to kick a man."
"We're in this 'cause of you, you fuckin' pussy!"
"Oh, real nice, fuckin' jackass," Carm scoffed, wiping his cheeks and finally accepting the coffee.
"Now you sound like her," Richie smirked, sharing a secret snicker. The pair fell into contented silence, just mulling over each other's nights; either displaying signs of anxiety; where Richie bounced his leg, Carm picked at his fingers wrapped around the cup of coffee.
The invisible timer ticked slower, quieter.
After several too-long minutes, Richie started snickering.
"What're you laughing at?" Carm mumbled.
Richie had to control his giggles, wiping a finger in the corner of his eye, "Something that can only be explained later."
"What's that?"
"...Mikey would've owed Tina about $6k right now."
"The fuck - ?"
"I said later!"
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requesting rules and masterlist
The Bear masterlist
-> no part two planned!
288 notes · View notes
sinofwriting · 8 months ago
Text
Homecoming - Oscar Piastri/Reader/Logan Sargeant
Words: 3,290 Summary: She hasn’t seen them since April and she can only hope that they aren’t mad that she lied to them. Note(s): Thank you @casperlikej for this commission! Had a lot of fun writing it! NSFW. Takes place in 2023. Reader is in the military. Reader is an American, who also somewhat grew up in the UK, but it’s all very vague. Also, don’t surprise people in showers, injuries can and will happen. Read Part Two Here
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Masterlist | Support Me! | Part of Sin's 5k & B-Day Celebration
“I’m sorry.” She apologizes.
“It’s okay, baby.” Logan says.
Oscar nods, but there’s worry in his eyes. “Is everything okay?”
She nods, “yeah, they just gave me the wrong date. It wasn’t until I was talking to my CO about leaving that they realized. I should’ve said something sooner.”
“It happens.” Oscar tells her and she can see through the computer screen the way his fingers twitch, obviously wanting to reach out, and her heart aches.
She misses them so much, both her boys. Hasn’t seen them since April when China got canceled and they both managed to get away from their teams to see her. But she hasn’t really seen them since last year, since 2022, when Oscar was just a reserve and Logan was in F2 with their weird spotty schedule. They didn’t have as many race dates or things to attend. They had spent so much time with her then.
“Do they have your next date for leave?”
She shakes her head. “Not yet. I think they’re trying to figure out how they gave me the wrong date.” She shrugs. “But it could mean I get some extra time.”
Oscar snorts but Logan nods.
“You’ll let us know as soon as you can?”
“Of course, Lo. As soon as they tell me, I’ll text you. Have a good day, though, both of you.” Both their noses wrinkle but they nod.
And with I love you’s exchanged, she hangs up, looking at the packed suitcase next to her. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too mad that she lied.
Being in the military wasn’t exactly something she planned on. Not as a little girl, not as a preteen and not at fifteen when she discovered she liked both her best friends.
But then she was seventeen wanting to apply to different colleges and programs and her parents had to sit down and tell her that while they had this nice house and the family home in Florida and cars and she hadn’t really wanted for anything, that was all they had. They didn’t have enough money for her to apply to three colleges, let alone the near twenty she wanted to.
It had been a fight instantly. Because she didn’t know what she wanted to do. And for the past year they had been telling her that it was okay and that she’d have college to figure that out and it had been a lie. She remembers throwing things in a bag and going to Oscar’s brand-new place, because he was already eighteen and his parents wanted him to be comfortable.
She remembers throwing herself in his arms and then Logan’s because of course Logan was also there. Remembers crying because it kind of felt like her world was ending. She remembers the way they both had soothed her, held her, let her rage and sob. She remembers the way after when she was more calmed down, the shock gone from her system, they presented a bunch of options for her.
Working with them, working for Oscar’s dad, working for Logan’s uncle, doing this in college and that, just something, anything that sounded appealing and she can remember how she shook her head after every option and how despite that they didn’t get frustrated or angry, they just said okay before offering another until they ran out of things to offer.
It was her uncle, though he wasn’t really her uncle, that told her she should think about the military. She laughed at first thinking he was joking, but he hadn’t laughed with her, instead looked at her seriously.
“You know that I served.” And she had nodded, she had faint memories of being in elementary school or even younger back in Florida and seeing him in uniform, medals and ribbons on his chest. “And you know I’ve said a lot about it. Never kept quiet.”
“Rock and a hard place.”
He smiled for a second at her words before looking all serious again. “Exactly. What I’m saying is, it’s an option. And nowadays, your contracts aren’t as long depending on the branch like when I enlisted and I’ve got friends.”
“I don’t think I’ll like it.”
He laughed at her words. “No one knows if they’ll like it until they are in it. Just think about it. It’s something and it will give you time, paid time, to figure out what you really want to do.”
And she had thought about it. She thought about the pros and the cons, how the cons outweigh the pros for her and she nearly didn’t go through with it because of Logan and Oscar. Because they just had to confess to her, tell her that they liked her, wanted to be with her and how could she not tell them the same when it was true? She couldn’t. She had nearly called it good, happy to bounce between them playing personal assistant or social media admin or something, they didn’t really know what she’d do going back and forth, but then she saw her uncle again, a week before she turned eighteen.
He hadn’t said anything, hadn’t brought it up, hadn’t even mentioned the military. But just seeing him reminded her of their conversation, of the way she spent hours upon hours after considering it.
Seeing him made her realize she had to go through with it.
She doesn’t really remember telling Logan and Oscar her decision. She remembers how they reacted, both surprised, unaware she had been considering it. Logan had been understanding, but he was from America just like her, he had family in the service. Oscar didn’t understand, couldn’t understand why. It hadn’t been a fight, not that she remembered, but she knew that her decision had nearly broken them that day.
“You reenlisting?” Her uncle’s voice is gruff.
“No, sir.”
He grumbles, lips twitching into a smile. “Good. And don’t call me sir. You in reserves now?”
She nods. “As of last week.”
“Logan and Oscar know?”
She throws him a look. “Why would you be driving me to Vegas if they knew?”
He laughs. “Fair. They’re doing good, right? In their Formula One thing?”
She smiles, “Yeah, they’re doing alright. Did you like COTA?”
He shrugs, merging onto the freeway. “Didn’t understand it, but it was alright. Beer was overpriced.” “Always is at events.”
“I remember when you could get a six-pack,” he starts and she mouths along with him, having heard this since she was ten, unable to not smile as she does so. “What?” He asks, seeing her smile.
“Nothing.” She tells him. “Just happy to see you haven’t changed.”
Vegas is annoying, she decides as she waves her uncle off, the older man having decided to stick around and try his luck at one of the casinos. Or rather the traffic currently in Vegas is annoying.
Pulling out her phone she texts Benny letting him know that she’s at the hotel. Looking around she smiles at all the lights and people milling around. She’d give Vegas this, it was pretty cool to look at.
“Y/N!” She turns her head, smiling at Logan’s trainer. “You got here early!” He chuckles, pulling her into a hug that she returns with one arm, still having a hand on her suitcase.
“We made good time. Switched off driving, so saved us a bit from having to stop really.”
He pats her on the back before letting her go. “But it was good.”
She nods. “All good. How are you? How are the kids?”
He grins. “They’re good, amazing, really. Excited that the season is ending and I’ll be home.”
“Logan was telling me that you aren’t going to be his trainer next season.”
Benny sighs, looking sad as they step foot into the hotel. “The kids are getting older, I want to be there more. If there was a way I could stay on, but not have to go to all the races I would. I love the kid, he’s like one of mine.”
She looks at him considering. She’d been around Logan and Oscar for ten years now, had been around their trainers for over five years, seeing what they did had made it easy for her to choose her degree that the military paid for while she served a year after she joined.
“Maybe you could.”
His eyebrow raises.
“I have a degree in sports medicine.”
“But you have a year left.”
She shakes her head. “That last year is reserves, unless we are going to war and all the active reserves have been called, I’m not going back in.”
“Logan didn’t say.”
“They don’t know.”
Benny makes a weird huff sound, shaking his head. “You’re going to knock them off their feet this weekend.”
She laughs. “Maybe. Just talk to Sarah about it first, I’ll follow you around this weekend and next and we can talk about it with Logan.”
“I don’t have to talk about it with Sarah, she’d be thrilled, she wasn’t fond of the idea in the first place. And Logan…” He shakes his head. “If you think Logan won’t be jumping at the idea of having you around twenty-four seven, you’ve lost it.”
“Still! Talk about it with Sarah first, just in case.”
He shakes his head, but agrees, handing her a key card as they stop in front of a hotel room door. “This is their room. Gentle with them.”
“Kim ask you to relay that message as well?”
“Yes.”
She laughs, nodding. “I will. Promise.”
He rolls his eyes, but there’s a grin on his face. “Go. I’ll see at least two of you tomorrow.”
“Bye Benny. Thank you again for helping me.”
“Of course.”
She watches as he walks down the hallway before taking out his own key card and entering his hotel room, just a few rooms down. Turning back to face the hotel room door, excitement starts to fill her. She was finally going to see them, be with them.
Pressing the key to the reader, she holds her breath as she waits for the door to unlock, breathes again when it does and she twists the door knob, letting herself in.
The door swings open quietly and her feet and suitcase make no noise against the carpet as she steps inside. There’s the faint sound of the shower running and music playing, and a large smile spreads across her lips. This was the routine she was used to, that hadn’t changed. Them coming back to their hotel room or when finally checking in, getting what they needed put away if they were staying long enough and then putting on some music and hopping in the shower.
The door closes with a small click as she shuts it, kicking off her shoes next to Oscar’s and Logan’s as she does. She hopes as she puts her suitcase next to Logan’s, that the shower is big enough for the three of them, but they’ve made do with some fairly small showers before.
Stepping further into the hotel room, she nearly giggles at the song playing, able to hear it clearly now with the way the bathroom door isn’t completely closed. She loves them so much.
Spotting the dirty clothes bag she bought Oscar for Christmas last year as a stock stuffer, right by the bathroom door, propped against the wall and already filled with a pair of jeans, shorts, shirts and socks, she adds her own pants, shirt, underwear and socks. A quiet sigh leaving her when she takes her bra off, which she carefully places on the back of an armchair.
The bathroom tiles are warm underneath her feet and she lets out a little oh, having expected them to be cold.
Her eyes dart to the sink where the large mirror behind is covered in steam, but her eyes quickly leave it to settle on the shower.
It’s big, maybe just big enough for the three to fit in, but she can’t focus on that because Oscar and Logan are there. She can’t see much, the glass of the shower just as covered in steam as the mirror, but she can see the shapes of their bodies, close together, holding each other as the water hits them.
Taking a deep breath, she steps towards the shower door. She shivers as her fingertips press against the glass before fingers move to open it and poking her head in, voice soft as she looks at them. “Room for one more?”
She watches as they separate, Oscar turning to look at her, and they both look at her with confusion and shock, before wide smiles take over their entire faces, eyes shining with happiness.
Oscar the closer of the two reaches forward and she quickly steps in, nearly slipping in her hurry, but Oscar has an arm around her before she can, tucking her into his chest, as Logan shuffles around. The door to the shower closes with a slight noise before his arms are around her as well.
Tension immediately leaves her body at the feeling of them both, and tears start to slip from her eyes. “I missed you guys so much.”
“We missed you too, baby.”
“So much.” Oscar echoes, arms tightening around her before loosening and she’s being pulled away slightly. She wants to protest, but then his lips are on hers and she moans, sinking into his kiss.
“Lo,” she whines when Oscar stops kissing her, lips tingling.
Oscar chuckles, the sound rich and so familiar it wants to make her cry again, but she’s being turned around and Logan is kissing her, his palms cupping her cheeks.
“I missed this so much.” Logan breathes against her lips. “Missed the three of us so much.”
“Never again.” She tells him, tells Oscar, tells them. “Never again. I don’t have to go back, I’m in inactive reserves and I’m not reenlisting. I’m yours, both of yours.” The words come out in a rush, nearly tripping over each other, but she can’t wait, can’t have them thinking that this will just be a short reunion before she has to leave them again.
“Thank god.” Logan breathes before pressing their lips together. “Thank god.” He murmurs again when they separate before she’s turned around to face Oscar again, who practically swallows her whole.
His lips are insistent on hers as his hands clutch at her hips, fingers digging painfully and she hopes that he leaves bruises, wishes that he’d make his grip even tighter, knows he can. She tries to pull away, to ask him to, but he keeps following her lips. Like if he isn’t kissing her, she’ll disappear, so she stops trying. Lets him kiss her, moans when Logan’s lips land on her shoulder, pressing kisses that trail up to the top of it and along the shell of her ear before trailing back down.
“We,” she gasps when Oscar finally stops kissing her, though his lips instead fall to her breasts going between the two, unable to decide which one he wants to give attention to more. “We can’t do this in here.”
The next moments are a blur as they scramble out of the shower, out of the bathroom and tumble into bed, soaking the duvet, pillows, and sheets with their wet naked bodies. It’s a blur of lips on hers, on her body, of fingers pressing and pulling. She remembers clearly the first press of fingers into her body, of Oscar’s tongue laving at her, of the kiss Logan and Oscar shared between her thighs. It blurs with her first and second orgasm.
She remembers clearly as well, the first sink of Oscar’s cock into her, her back to his chest as he laid down, the way he pressed all the way into her, not letting her adjust. She doesn’t remember the apparent fumble for lube or the first two fingers that Logan had carefully sunk into her alongside Oscar’s cock. She remembers the stretch of his three fingers and Oscar’s cock, and finally the stretch of him sinking into her as well. The near painful stretch of having both of them inside her at the same time, in the same hole.
Her mind is still blurry, still coming down from pleasure when they finally break the silence of just trying to catch their breaths and music still playing from the bathroom.
“That was so good.”
She makes a small noise in agreement.
“You felt so good.” Oscar says, kissing her shoulder and she shudders at the feeling. “You both did.” And she can hear the sound of Oscar kissing Logan.
“Logan’s gonna hold you now, okay.” Oscar tells her as she still lays somewhat on top of him. “Both of your legs are shaking.” That makes her blink and look down, swallowing hard because she hadn’t even realized hers were shaking. “And I need to clean you up and get some water for all us, okay?”
She nods.
Despite him telling her that, she still nearly whines when he moves out from under her, but he quickly pushes her into Logan’s arms who eagerly holds her close. She hadn’t seen if his legs were shaking as well like Oscar said, but she doubts it with the way Logan manages to turn her around in his arms and pull her so she’s on top of him, her breasts pressed against his chest just the way he likes.
“Love you so much, baby.” Logan murmurs into her hair. “You were so good for us. Just fell apart over and over again. Gave us five orgasms.”
She makes a surprised sound. That didn’t sound right.
“A whole five, baby. It was fucking amazing.”
She nuzzles into his neck and he continues speaking, knowing the sound and feeling is soothing.
He stops when Oscar comes back, making a tutting noise at how they are positioned which makes her mumble Logan’s name and Oscar runs a hand down her calf.
“I know, darling. You’re alright. You though,” and she can picture the way Oscar is looking at Logan, pointing a finger at him. “How am I supposed to clean you up?”
She feels Logan shrugs as best as he can with her on top of him. “The way you usually do.”
The younger makes a huffing sound but is quiet. She can feel his breath against her leg as he most likely bends.
Logan makes a small noise and she kisses his neck. “Cold?”
“No, it’s warm.” He reassures her.
She hums and when it’s her turn she doesn’t even jolt at the feeling of the washcloth running over her most sensitive parts and her thighs.
“Alright, you two, you both got to sit up to drink some water.” Oscar says, as he climbs back into bed with them.
Logan grumbles and she turns her head to watch as Oscar gets comfy with his back against the headboard, three water bottles on his nightstand.
He’s still naked, probably not even thinking of pulling on underwear or sweats on and it makes her want to curl up in his lap. He seems to feel her eyes on him because he smiles, all soft, sweet, fond and he’s opening his arms and she carefully moves off Logan to do what she thought about it.
Her head rests on his shoulder, as she sits sideways on his lap, facing Logan, who watches them both with that awestruck look of his as he sits up and scoots closer until him and Oscar are sitting side by side and he can draw her feet into his lap, stilling letting her stay curled up in Oscar’s lap, but getting some contact with her.
“Love you both.”
“We love you too.”
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@darleneslane @copper-boom @eutrizbea @kimmib13 @elliegrey2803 @stopeatread @hiireadstuff @tallrock35
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ducktoo · 19 days ago
Text
Frayed Threads
LE SSERAFIM’s Sakura x Reader
Note: Thanks again @hyeyulenjoyer for the request again. At this point we're just doing for every single IZ*ONE members lol
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You noticed the changes immediately—little things that wouldn’t have registered if they weren’t so unlike her. Sakura was always someone who kept you grounded. A quick text here, a photo of something random there, or even just a string of emojis when she didn’t have much to say. But for the past week?
Silence.
It started innocently enough. She cancelled your usual Friday dinner plans. "Sorry, something came up. Next week, promise!" she texted, followed by a heart emoji. It seemed fine at first, but then the pattern began.
Your goodnight texts were left on read. Calls went unanswered. Even her Instagram stories—usually filled with behind-the-scenes glimpses of her day—had gone dry. When she finally posted something, it was just a vague snapshot of her shoes and a caption that read, "Busy days ahead!"
Busy with what?
Then there were the whispered conversations when you swung by her dorm unannounced. Once, you overheard Chaewon muttering something like, "Does she think this will actually work?" before abruptly cutting herself off when you entered. Another time, Yunjin practically shoved you out the door after telling you Sakura wasn’t home, but her tone carried an undercurrent of don’t ask any more questions.
Even the LE SSERAFIM group chat felt weird. The jokes were fewer, and any time you brought up Sakura, the others changed the subject like they were guarding a state secret.
Your brain went into overdrive. Maybe she’s working on a new project and can’t talk about it yet? you reasoned, trying to calm yourself. But then the darker thoughts crept in, the ones you couldn’t suppress.
What if she’s seeing someone else?
It sounded absurd, but you couldn’t shake it. You thought about the way she’d been so distant lately, almost as if she didn’t want to see you. And wasn’t it just last week that Kazuha had mentioned Sakura getting a bunch of late-night calls? She’d laughed it off at the time, but what if it wasn’t so innocent?
And then there was the ultimate gut punch: the bracelet.
You found it sitting on her dresser during your last visit. It was simple, with a charm you didn’t recognize—something floral, maybe? She’d never worn it before, and when you asked about it, she got weirdly flustered. "Oh, it’s nothing. Just a gift," she’d mumbled, quickly tucking it out of sight.
A gift from who?
-
Fast-forward to Thursday, and you were restless.
You were sitting in your apartment, phone in hand, staring at the last text you sent her—read but unanswered. It’d been days since Sakura had gone radio silent. Sure, you had caught the occasional glimpse of her at a shoot or through a mutual friend's Instagram story, but even then, she seemed distant.
Now, your mind had gone full cinema mode. Was she okay? Did you do something wrong? Or was she… seeing someone else? You shook your head, willing yourself to stop spiralling.
But really, could you blame yourself? Sakura wasn’t just your girlfriend; she was the type of person who kept you on the ground, made everyone want to be around her with her calm demeanour. The idea of her dodging your calls for any reason was enough to stir up your anxiety like a blender stuck on high.
With an exasperated sigh, you threw on your hoodie, deciding that sitting around wasn’t going to help. You needed answers—or at least a distraction.
-
You found yourself at the LE SSERAFIM dorm, a place you usually walked into without hesitation. Today, though, you hesitated. The thought of knocking felt foreign, like you were suddenly on the outside of something you used to be at the centre of.
Before you could back out, the door swung open, and Chaewon appeared, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Oh, hey," she said, stepping aside to let you in.
"Is…Kkura around?" you asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.
Chaewon tilted her head, studying you like a puzzle she couldn’t quite solve. "Uh… not right now. She said she’d be back soon."
Of course, she wasn’t here, as usual. That would’ve been too easy.
"Anything you wanna tell me?" you pressed, hoping Chaewon might spill some tea.
She shrugged, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Not really. But if you're here to interrogate me, maybe try Eunchae next time. She cracks under pressure."
Her playful tone didn’t exactly ease your mind, but you nodded, muttering a quick thanks before leaving.
-
Hours later, you were at home again, pacing like a detective in a noir film. Then your phone buzzed, and you dove for it like it was a lifeline.
Sakura:
Can we meet? I’ll come to you.
Your heart leapt at the sight of her name, but the message didn’t ease your worries. If anything, it made them worse. The formality of it, the lack of her usual emojis or teasing tone—it all felt off.
-
When she arrived, you almost didn’t recognize her. She was bundled up in an oversized hoodie, her hair tucked into a beanie. She looked exhausted, like she hadn’t slept in days. And she was holding something behind her back, the aforementioned charm wrapped around her small wrist.
A tote bag, from what you can formed.
"Hey," she said softly, stepping inside. Her voice cracked, and the sound of it only made your chest tighten.
You stepped aside to let her in, closing the door behind her. She didn’t move far, standing awkwardly by the entrance as if she wasn’t sure she was welcome.
“Kkura, what’s going on?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you.
“I… I owe you an explanation,” she began, finally looking at you. Her gaze was uncertain, her hands twitching at her sides, gripping her tote bag like lingering the last thread. She wanted to do something but didn’t know what.
Your patience snapped. “Yeah, you do. You’ve been avoiding me for days, dodging my calls, barely even texting me back. What am I supposed to think?! That everything’s fine?!”
Her eyes widened at your tone, but you couldn’t stop.
“Are you…seeing someone else?” The words tumbled out before you could catch them, raw and accusatory. "Did he give you that charm on your wrist?"
“What?” Her voice broke through your spiral, sharp and disbelieving. She became conscious of her own wrist. "Why did you think that?"
“I mean, what else am I supposed to think?” you continued, the words coming out harsher than you intended. “You’ve been distant, secretive, and—”
“I’ve been making this for you!” she blurted, cutting you off as she yanked something out of her tote bag and thrust it into your hands.
You looked down, blinking at the object in confusion. It was a scarf—lopsided, slightly uneven, and clearly handmade. The stitches were all over the place, some too tight, others too loose, with bits of yarn fraying at the edges.
“I wanted to surprise you,” she said, her voice trembling. “I thought it would be cute, and I thought I could actually pull it off. But it took way longer than I expected, and I kept messing up, and…” She paused, taking a shaky breath. “And then I got scared that it wouldn’t be good enough. That I wouldn’t be good enough.”
You stared at the scarf, your brain struggling to catch up. "What…about the charm?"
"ahh…" Sakura glanced down to her wrist. "the IZ*ONE members gave it to me…sorry…should've clarify it…"
"Ahhh…" You heaved a relieving sigh.
“So… this is what you’ve been doing?” you asked, your voice softer now, almost disbelieving.
“Yes!” She ran a hand through her hair, exasperated. “I know it’s stupid. I know I should’ve just told you. But I wanted it to be a surprise. And instead, I made you think…”
She trailed off, biting her lip, and suddenly, all your anger drained away, leaving only guilt in its wake.
“Kkura…” You stepped closer, the scarf still in your hands. “You thought you weren’t good enough? For me?”
Her silence spoke volumes, and the vulnerability in her eyes hit you like a punch to the gut.
Wordlessly, you wrapped the scarf around your neck. It was itchy and uneven, and easily the most imperfect thing you’d ever owned.
“It’s…a bit lopsided…” you said firmly. "But I like it. A lot."
She blinked at you, her eyes glistening. “You don’t have to—”
“I mean it,” you interrupted, pulling her into a hug. She stiffened for a moment before melting into your arms. “But next time you want to surprise me, can you…maybe…not stress yourself out so much that I think you’re cheating on me?”
She laughed against your chest, the sound muffled but full of relief. “Deal.”
As the tension between you finally dissolved, you tightened your hold on her, vowing to never let your own fears cloud your trust again.
You pulled away slightly, still holding her close, and looked down at the scarf wrapped around your neck. It was… well, it was something. The uneven stitches gave it character, and the mismatched colours—soft lavender fading into a slightly-too-bright yellow—felt endearing in a way you couldn’t quite explain. But it also raised some questions.
"You know…" you began, your tone light but teasing, "if this is the final version… what do the others look like?"
Sakura froze, her eyes widening. “What others?”
You arched a brow. “You said you kept messing up, right? I’m assuming there are… prototypes?”
Her face flushed instantly, the tips of her ears turning pink. “I—uh—they’re nothing! Just some failed attempts. Totally not worth seeing!” She tried to wave it off, but her nervous laugh betrayed her.
“Ehhhh, come on,” you said, a smirk tugging at your lips. “You’ve been dodging me all week because of this. The least you can do is let me see the discarded ones.”
“No way!” She shook her head vehemently, her hands coming up as if to block you from even thinking about it. “They’re terrible. Like, embarrassing terrible. You’d never look at me the same again.”
“Too bad, now I have to see them,” you teased, already stepping toward her tote bag, which she had carelessly dropped by the door.
“Wait—no—don’t!” She lunged for it, but you were faster, snatching the tote bag up and holding it out of her reach.
“Relax,” you said with a laugh as she grabbed at your arms. “I’m not going to judge you. I just want to see how much effort you put into this.”
“No, you really don’t,” she insisted, but her protests grew weaker as you peeked inside.
The first thing you pulled out was a tangled mess of yarn that vaguely resembled… a fish? Or maybe a lopsided bowtie? It was hard to tell. You held it up, squinting at it.
“This is… interesting,” you said diplomatically, biting back a grin.
“That was supposed to be a beanie,” she muttered, covering her face with her hands.
You couldn’t hold back your laughter this time. “This beanie? For who, Manchae?”
“That kid is wayy too big for that!” she groaned, her voice muffled by her hands. “Plus, it was my first attempt! I didn’t know what I was doing!”
Grinning, you dug deeper into the bag and pulled out another piece—a square of fabric with one corner wildly unravelling. It had a heart stitched into it, but the shape was warped, almost like it had melted.
“This one’s cute,” you said honestly, running your fingers over the uneven stitches.
“It was supposed to be a patch,” she mumbled, still hiding her face. “But I couldn’t get the heart right, so I gave up.”
You reached out, gently tugging her hands away from her face. “Aww, don’t hide. These are really good.”
Her eyes narrowed skeptically. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“I’m serious,” you said, holding up the patch. “Do you know how much effort it takes to make something by hand? You could’ve just bought me a scarf, but you didn’t. You decided to spend all this time and energy trying to make one yourself, even when it wasn’t perfect. That means a lot.”
Her expression softened, a small, shy smile creeping onto her lips. “You really mean that?”
“Of course,” you said, reaching up to flick her beanie playfully. “Even if Manchae's beanie looks like a deflated jellyfish.”
“Yah!” she exclaimed, shoving you lightly, but she was laughing now, the tension from earlier completely gone.
You put the patch and scarf down carefully, then pulled her back into a warm and tight hug. “Seriously, though. Thank you, Kkura-chan. This means everything to me.”
She leaned into you, her arms wrapping around your waist. “You’re welcome. But next time, remind me not to take up a hobby I’m terrible at just to impress you.”
"It's YOUR hobby you took, Ms. Miyawaki." You chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Plus, I kind of like seeing you flustered.”
Her groan of protest only made you laugh harder, and for the first time all week, everything felt exactly as it should.
-
Later that evening, as you and Sakura lounged on the couch, content and wrapped in the coziness of each other’s company, her phone buzzed violently on the coffee table. She reached for it lazily, glancing at the screen before answering on speaker.
“Hello?” she said, her tone casual. "You're on speaker by the way.."
“Sakura-unnie! For the last F*CKING time, come and get your crochet disasters out of the living room!” Yunjin’s voice practically boomed through the phone, making you stifle a laugh.
Sakura shot you a glare before responding. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the mountain of yarn vomit you’ve left behind, unnie!” Chaewon’s voice chimed in, equally exasperated. “There’s half a sock on the coffee table, something that might be a disfigured teddy bear on the floor, and don’t even get me started on the abomination hanging off the dining chair.”
“That was supposed to be a pouch!” Sakura defended herself, sitting up straighter.
“Well, it’s not a pouch, unnie,” Kazuha’s calm voice joined the chaos. “It looks like a... blob. A very colourful blob.”
“It’s art,” Sakura said firmly, though the red creeping up her cheeks betrayed her embarrassment.
“It’s garbage!” Yunjin shouted. “If we find one more piece of half-finished yarns lying around, we’re burning it. You have until tomorrow to get this stuff, or we’re holding a bonfire in your honour!”
The line went dead, leaving the room in silence for a moment before you burst out laughing.
“Wow…” you said, wiping a tear from your eye. “You really went all out for me, huh?”
"Shush…" Sakura groaned, burying her face in her hands. “They’re being so dramatic.”
“You did leave all your failed attempts lying around for them to find,” you teased, nudging her shoulder.
She peeked at you through her fingers, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, maybe I got a little carried away…”
“Just a little?” you quipped, grinning.
She groaned again but couldn’t hide her laugh. “Fine, I’ll clean it up tomorrow. But you’re coming with me to help.”
“Yes, ma'am.” you said, pulling her into your arms. “And for what it’s worth, I'll take it all home tomorrow.”
“Even the blob?” she asked, her voice muffled against your chest.
“Maybe no-,” you closed your mouth as her glare was lasering through your skull. "…Ok even the blob."
She sighed dramatically, but you could feel her smile against your shirt. “I’m never crocheting again.”
And with that, the two of you settled back into the couch, the laughter and mess of the day fading into the warmth of each other’s company.
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enwoso · 8 months ago
Note
Could we pls have more sunshine/Grumpy reader I love x child reader. Maybe reader is sick and alessia brings her to training just thinking she’s not feeling too well but she starts being sick and alessia is stressed out but it’s just fluff with all of the girls
SICK BUG — alessia russo x child!reader
*part of the grumpy/sunshine universe once again<3*
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grumpy masterlist
today was the conti-cup final in wolverhampton, arsenal v chelsea and alessia would be lying if she said she wasn't nervous. this was her first chance of silverware since joining arsenal this season. and she would love nothing more than to lift that trophy at the end of today.
but she also had someone who she had to worry about more which was at the end of the day a lot more important than the cup trophy, that being you.
for the past few days you had been poorly, alessia was hoping that you were going to be feeling better however it was probably the opposite. last night had been a particular rough night as you had been awake for most of it. as if you weren't crying cause you were too hot or too cold, you were crying cause you were coughing and spluttering your lungs up.
alessia spent most of the night drawing shapes on your bare back trying to get you to get at least some sleep along with herself before you would wake up again. the blonde was sure she only got an hour and half of uninterrupted sleep.
when the sun did finally come up, and it was time to get up - you refused covering your face with your blanket, your mum having to carry you down the stairs and sit you on the couch giving you some breakfast which you just nibbled at.
clinging to your mum as she tried to get ready in the short amount of time she had, just before leaving alessia gave you some medicine which was a battle in itself.
"lovie, open your mouth please" your mummy pleaded, as you moved your mouth away from the pink liquid on the spoon, "it'll make you better!"
"no, it taste yucky" you whined, pushing your mums hand away from your mouth making sure that you kept your mouth sealed shut.
a few pleads later and with a bit of a bribe that your mum would let you pick a new toy, you finally caved and had the yucky pink medicine. pulling a disgusting face as the spoon entered your mouth.
the medicine did the trick and eased your illness as well as making you sleepy, as before your mum even had a chance to get you ready for the day you had fallen asleep on the couch — the cartoons playing in the background.
alessia managed to get ready and get onto the arsenal coach that was taking the team to the stadium all with you still asleep.
"a bit early for her afternoon nap is it not?" kyra teased, as alessia huffed sitting down placing your backpack along with her own on the floor.
“don’t kyra”
normally alessia would have laughed or had some remark to the comment but instead it was met with a grumble and a shake of the head as she dragged her hands steph smacking the young australian on the shoulder her as she grumbled holding her shoulder.
"i take it she's still not feeling very well?" steph asked cautiously as alessia hummed shaking her head, as she looked at the two australian who were sitting in front of her.
"no, i think last night was her worst night - she slept a solid two hours" alessia commented, looking towards you moving the blanket from your upper body as your cheeks where starting to go red knowing that if you weren't cooled down you would wake up crying cause you were too hot.
"oh less, are you not tired?" steph said slightly worried for the blonde considering she was going to be playing football soon, not wanting the girl to be overly tired.
alessia hummed, "and then my mum was supposed to be coming to watch her while the games on but her stupid trains been cancelled so she can't even get here!"
"well i'm sure one of the girls who aren't starting won't mind watching her, she's not a bother" steph smiled as for the first time today so did alessia, thanking the girl as you both fell into a bit of small talk.
however you interrupted the conversation, small cries coming from you for "mummy" identical to the ones that alessia heard this morning.
the blonde picking you up from where you were laying on the coach seat, leaving your blanket where it was as you were beginning to burn up as alessia soothed you by rubbing up and down your back as your cries quieted down. your head tucked into your mummy's chest.
the coach stopping a few moments after, alessia knew you were not asleep as you were still twirling the ends of your hair in your fingers an action you did when you were trying to go to sleep.
“lovie? you gonna get down so we can get off the coach?” alessia said, not really asking you more telling you as she peeled you from her chest, placing you on the floor as a few complaints came from you.
“come on the lovie” your mummy said softly holding out her hand for you to hold, her other arm holding her big pink bag which had both everything you needed but also everything she needed.
“where everyone?” you asked, the rest of the team already gotten off the bus, you and your mummy being the last ones off. at you neared the front of the bus, you heard mummy said thank you to the driver before helping you down the steep stairs.
you jumping off the last step, a small smile finding your lips as you walked in front of your mum her telling you which way to go.
“you have a nice nap?” mummy asked as you nodded, “yes, i had a dream” you said so innocently, your mums eyes widening intrigued on what it could have been.
“you had a dream? what did lovie dream about?” mummy cooed, as you giggled a little pausing as you hummed thinking of your dream. “having a pet unicorn when i older” you admitted, walking the corridors of the molineux stadium.
your mummy chuckled a little at your dream, as you continued to tell her about the fantasy of your dream, how you lived with your unicorn in a big candy land.
“you can come visit too!” you cheered as alessia opened the door of the changing room. you finding your mums stop spotting her name on the jersey.
as she put her bag down sitting on the bench, scooping you up onto her knee everyone else around her beginning to get changing into the warmup kit.
as she began to rummaged around in her bag for a tissue for your runny nose. “that’s very sweet of you” your mummy smiled finding the pack of tissues which had peppa pig on the packaging after you demanded them ones in the shop just like you did with plasters any time you fell down and scraped your knee.
you were adamant that the ones with the pictures on made your knee feel a lot better than the ones that were just plain and boring, alessia knew it was just because they had a picture on them and they were colourful that you liked them — no other reason.
alessia wiping your nose as you moved your face further away from the tissue, slipping off your mums knee and sitting on the bench moving so you were snug in the cubby hole picking up your ipad beginning to watch some cartoons on it.
“your here tiny!” you heard a thick irish accent coming from above you, looking up and seeing katie smiling down at you as you nodded in response to her question.
“where were you on the bus?” katie asks, usually you were all over the place moving from one person to the next it helping you to fill the time in especially on away day trips that were long.
“napping, i still poorly” you say a small cough coming from you as katie nodded, “oh yea’ your ma did say something about you bein’ sick,, how you feeling?” the irish girl asked moving to sit beside you as you venture out of your cubby hole you had been in for the past ten minutes while your mummy was getting changed into her kit.
“otay, got a sore throat” you frowned, katie frowning with you — it was sad seeing you so down with an illness usually you were buzzing around the changing room about the football, no matter whether it was games at arsenal or england. win or loose you loved watching each and every match.
“you not repping the arsenal jersey today?” katie pointed to your pink pyjama top, as you shrugged not even knowing if you had it with you.
“mummy!” you yelled to the best of you abilities with your throat hurting, alessia fixing the edges of her hair with a tiny brush which she called the magic brush as it helped to get all your baby hairs into place.
turning to face you with a smile she nodded for you to ask what you wanted, “where my arsenal top?” you asked now wanting to put it on, especially now that katie had put the idea into your head.
“i think it should be in my bag-“ she said putting her tiny brush down and picking up her bag, you peering over her shoulder watching intensely as she dug through the bag looking for the small red jersey.
“it’s not here, oh i must of forgotten to pick it up — sorry lovie” your mummy looked up from the bag, seeing your bottom lip begin to tremble, guilt consuming her as she mentally screamed at the fact she had forgotten it.
tears beginning to fill in your blue eyes but you didn’t know if it was because of the fact you didn’t have your jersey to wear or that fact your head had started to hurt again. a big rush of emotions filling you.
“lovie, it’s okay.” mummy said hoping to squash the situation, you still trying to navigate how to cope with any big emotions you had.
katie moved from her seat on the bench next to your mum, kneeling down in front of you “tiny, dont worry about it, would you like me to go and see if i can get you a arsenal scarf to wear?” katie asked hoping it may help to soothe the situation, while it wasn’t as good as your jersey it was at least something.
you nodded as mummy rubbed you back to soothe you while mumbling a ‘thank you’ to the irish girl, katie rushing off to see if she could get you the scarf as some of the other girls came over trying to cheer you up a little.
minutes later, katie returned a red scarf in her hand as well as some little arsenal flags. a big smile on the irish girls face as she kneeled down like she did moments before hand, handing them too you.
“what do you say to katie?” mummy whispered in your ear as katie put the scarf in your lap while handing you the flags.
“thank you katie” you sniffed, your eyes a little red from the few tears as katie smiled.
“anything for our favourite little gooner!”
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liked by katie_mccabe11 and 641,527 others
alessia even being ill won’t stop her from watching her team🥹
comments -
katie_mccabe11 our little gooner❤️🤍
1h 153 likes     reply
-> alessia forever!
leahwilliamson glad to see she understands what’s the right part of london!!
1h 212 likes     reply
-> alessia i don’t think she would have it any other way
stephcatley favourite little fan forever!
1h 140 likes     reply
537 notes · View notes
pucked-bunnie · 8 months ago
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hands off ⎜m.barzal
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pairings: mat barzal x reader prompts: "can you please come get me?" + "Don't fucking touch what isn't yours." warnings: mentions of stalking? ⎜drunk people ⎜reader is uncomfy ⎜ word count: 1.4k note: I got a lot of request for Mat so I decided that these two go well together and ended up combining them. Requests are open!
(UNEDITED)
+
+
The party was supposed to be fun. 
It was supposed to be a good way for you to find new friends - to bond with some of the other wags. 
And sure the night started out fun. 
“I promise they’ll take good care of you, it’s just dinner and some drinks.” Mat had assured you as he watched you pull on your coat, the oversized denim jacket holding in any warmth it could manage, stopping the slight tremble of your limbs at the winter cold. 
Moving to New York had been a big adjustment, especially in the dead of winter. Mat had talked to some of his teammates, hoping to be able to set up a girls night with some of the wives and girlfriends on the team to help you adjust to being in a new city, to help you make some new friends to keep you company when he was away so often. All the girls were quick to agree, adding you to the team group chat to discuss the details. 
“I know, but it’s been so long since I’ve gone out and my sister warned me about the bars around here.” You respond as you glance up at him, pulling your lip between your teeth. 
You wanted him to comfort you. 
To give you a reason to cancel. 
Or to say he would come with you. 
Meeting new people was terrifying. 
“I swear it’ll be fine, just message me when you’re ready and I’ll come get you.” You nod slowly at his words, leaning up on your toes to press a soft kiss against his cheek, Mat giving you a big smile as he pushes you lightly towards the front door of the bar, leaning against the side of his car until the front door closes behind you. 
Mat was right. 
The night started out fun. 
But things changed so quickly. 
“Hey, you’ll be right to head home on your own right?” Anders asks, his wife draped against his side, a drunk smile on her face as he holds her steady with one arm around her waist. “Mat’s on his way?” He questions, you don’t really respond, just giving a tight smile. 
You had messaged Mat. 
You swear. 
Anders pats your shoulder softly, before dragging his wife out of the club, trying to avoid her incessant affections. You watch as they leave the constantly filling bar, the crowds of people getting louder, more boisterous as the night carries on. The others had been picked up earlier by their partners, each whisked off in a slightly tipsy haze. 
You had been left on delivered for the last thirty five minutes. 
And there was no sign of Mat responding anytime soon. 
“He’s probably fallen asleep.” You reassure yourself, you phone showing a time of eleven forty eight pm, way past Mat’s normal bedtime. 
Letting out a long sigh, you push away from the spot at the bar, grabbing your jacket off the back of your chair, slinging it over your shoulders, buttoning each button tightly before hefting your purse up on your shoulder. 
Your apartment wasn’t far away. 
The walk would have to be brisk with the cold seeping into your bones, but it was do-able. 
You smile softly as the door managers as you exit, crossing your arms over your chest with your phone tight in your hand as you start walking down the block. 
You can hear as they exit behind you. 
The four men bustling amongst each other. 
Each of them daring the other to close the gap. 
You type quickly on your phone, pressing the cold glass to your ear as the dial tone rings in your ear. 
You dare to glance back, the men pausing for a moment, discussing something between themselves. 
“Baby?” Mat’s voice is groggy, coughing a few times as he repeats, “Baby, are you there?” You catch yourself nodding in response - despite the fact that Mat can’t hear you - your free arm tight around you as you speed up a little more. 
“Can you please come get me?” You ask softly into the phone, you can hear the rusting of a blanket and the padding of Mat’s bare feet on your apartment floor as he moves around the rooms. 
“Where are you?” He asks quickly, “Are you safe?” 
“Like five minutes from the bar, I thought I could make it.” You continue, your body jumping as you hear the footsteps close in. 
“Hey, wait.” You hear a voice call out from behind you, the man's voice slurred slightly, his friends egging him on. 
“Who was that?” Mat asks, the jangling of his keys ringing through the phone. “Are you walking?” He asks again, his voice deeper, more gravely, the easiest to tell that he was angry. 
“You weren’t responding.” You justify, “It’s only a fifteen minute walk, I thought it would be fine.” You hear Mat let out a cuss, the words sounding far away. You can hear his fingers swiping on his screen before he swears again, the sound of a grunt a thump before his voice is close to your ear again. 
“I’m on my way - stay on the phone with me, okay?” You nod again, glancing once more over your shoulder the men are closing on you now. 
Mat’s breathing heavily into the phone, reminding you to keep walking. 
He’ll be there soon, he promises. 
The hand lands out your arm roughly, your body swung around to face them. 
“I asked you to wait.” The man groans, he couldn’t have been more than mid twenties, you wish he knew how scared you were right now. 
“My boyfriend is on his way to come get me. I’m not interested.” You speak confidently, you can hear the muffled sounds of Mat saying something into the phone, but you can’t make out the words, your arm dropping to your side as the man's friends stop around the two of you. 
“Let me go.” You say, firm in your words. 
“But you haven’t even heard me out yet.” The man whines, his tone similar to that of an upset child. “Please give me a chance.” He whines again, his hand still clamped on your arm. The man is clearly drunk, his friends goading him on. 
“I bet she’s lying.” One says. 
“She probably doesn’t even have a boyfriend.” The other adds. 
“Show her what she’s missing out on.” The last one says. 
The man in front of you pauses, his eyes flicking over your shoulder, heavy steps stopping behind you, the man’s hand loosening slowly. 
“Didn’t your mothers ever teach you boys manners?” Mats voice hisses from beside you, his hand reaching out to close around the drunk stranger's wrist, the man releasing you quickly. 
“Don’t fucking touch what isn’t yours.” Mat sneers, his body moving in front of your as he pushes the man away from the two of you. 
The men are smart. 
They retreat quickly, excuses falling from their mouths. 
“Sorry man.” One sighs. 
“Didn’t mean any harm.” The other adds. 
Mat glares at the back of them as they stumble back down the street to the bar, their attention finding some other people to focus on. 
“You ran all the way here?” You ask. 
“Yes.” Mat responds. 
“Are you mad at me?” You question quietly, Mat’s chest heaving, as he runs his fingers through his hair. 
“What?” He asks, spinning on the spot to face you, letting out a long sigh as he reaches for you, his arms wrapping around your head to pull you into his chest, his hands stroke your hair as he lets out another long breath. 
“I’m mad at myself.” He says quietly. “I told you I would come get you as soon as you messaged and I was an idiot and fell asleep.” 
“It’s okay.” You grumble into his chest, your words muffled by his thick hoodie. 
“I was so scared.” 
“So was I.” You agree, pulling your head away from his chest to look up at him, smiling as you pull yourself out of his arms, reaching to latch your hand in his as you pull him to start walking besides you. 
“I can’t believe you ran all the way to help me.” You chuckle softly, finally tucking your phone back into your pocket, the danger ebbing away as you watch your boyfriend's shoulders slump as he shakes his head in disbelief. 
“I can’t believe I did, either.”
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catmiemy · 8 months ago
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New Life, Old Problems (Leah Williamson x Reader)
Summary: You're trying to fully settle into your new life in London with your girlfriend. But when you get sick your past stops you from reaching out.
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A/N: Finally managed to put something on paper again! By now I have about 6 stories (some multiple chapters) fully planned out in my head, but I struggle so much with actually writing any of it. Although it's getting a bit better, so I might become more active again.
This is the third part of the New Teammate series (Part 1, Part 2 Arsenal version). Although I think you should be fine to read this without reading the other parts first. Also this was definitely helped along by @holly-wallis, who reached out to tell me she was excited for the next part. So thank you again!
You thought you were doing well. You thought you had settled perfectly into your new life in London. You thought your relationship with Leah was going great. And all this was true, but only to a certain degree. Underneath the surface there were still many gaping wounds and you had a long way to go, which would take even longer because you refused to accept it, pretending like you were already at your destination.
How hard it really was for you to fully trust anyone, even Leah, to be vulnerable around her, became glaringly obvious when you got sick. As much as you wanted comfort, someone to take care of you, you couldn’t allow it. The thought of trusting anyone so much when you were in a vulnerable state left you panicked.
However there was no hiding your sickness. Leah and you had plans that day and if you came up with some random excuse your girlfriend might end up checking on you since it was unlike you to cancel without a good reason. And sadly you couldn’t think of a single good reason why you were unable to meet up with Leah. How were you supposed to do that when you could barely muster up the energy to go to the bathroom when needed?
In the end you decided that the truth was your best course of action. The defender had been exceptionally understanding about your situation and the multitude of struggles you still faced because of your past trauma. Honestly more understanding and patient than you were with yourself.
Despite being reasonably confident for a positive reaction you still were too much of a coward to call your girlfriend, opting to text her instead. ‘This was better for your sore throat anyway’, you reasoned with yourself.
R: Le, I’m sorry I have to cancel today. I got sick.
L: Oh no! Are you okay? No wait, scratch that. How bad are you feeling? Is there anything I can do? Bring you something? Or do you want me to come over to keep you company? I’d be happy to!
You looked at the sweet and caring words, Leah’s concern noticeable even from these few letters on your phone. The urge to text back and ask the Englishwoman to come over was huge. She would take good care of you; make you feel safe and loved. But you couldn’t allow it because what if…
You couldn’t even begin to describe what was hiding behind this what if. Maybe it was actually that, the big unknown, the completely unexpected. Never in your life would you have pictured what had gone done with Jimena and the whole team in Barcelona before it had actually happened. It had left you afraid to fully let your guard down because who knew when something unpredictable would happen again. And right now you were definitely too tired to keep up any guards, so your only option was to keep everyone far away from you.
R: That’s very sweet, but I can’t…I’m sorry.
With a rapidly beating heart you watched your phone, practically hypnotizing it, scared of your girlfriend’s reply. What if this was the final straw?  As much as this possibility scared you, it was still more bearable than the alternative. At least it was an option you had already considered. You wouldn’t be blindsided by it. Plus if there was one thing you had gotten good at in the course of your life it was dealing with pain and people leaving you.
L: I understand, babe. But if you need anything please text or call me. And I’ll be right there! Take care of yourself! Sending you some remote cuddles. Love you!
Your whole body relaxed as you read this response, even some tears of relief rolling down your cheeks.
R: Thanks, darling, I will. And thank you so much for being so understanding!! Love you too!
And with that you put your phone away, buried yourself under the covers and fell asleep relatively quickly. The cold medicine you had taken before texting Leah doing its part in helping you drowse off without too much of uncomfortable shuffling. Your last thought was that hopefully you’d already feel better when you woke up again.
Unfortunately the opposite was the case. You were startled awake by a violent coughing fit that just wouldn’t stop. You thought that you could ride it out, but when it got to the point where you felt like you had to throw up from coughing so much, you forced your tired body out of bed and into the bathroom.
First you collapsed in front of the toilet, bending over the bowl, but once it became clear that you didn’t actually have to throw up, you dragged yourself into the kitchen and filled a glass with water.
As long as you were drinking you were fine, but as soon as you put the glass down the scratchiness in your throat returned with full force, swiftly followed by another cough attack.
You resigned yourself to keep standing there, leaning heavily against the counter, too tired to support your body weight with only your legs, and drink glass after glass, until finally you could put the water down without instantly dissolving into a coughing fit.
At that point you were trembling because of the cold, your teeth chattering and every single bone of your body seemed to be hurting. Still you didn’t immediately crawl back into bed, instead you gathered all of the supplies you might need to ride out this cold. You filled a bottle with water, grabbed some crackers and medicine and then you decided to also get a bowl to be on the safe side should you actually have to throw up at some point.
When you finally returned to bed, your breathing was labored and you all but fell into it. You quickly buried yourself under the blankets. It did little to warm you up though and you debated for a moment to get back up and get more blankets. The idea of moving again seemed entirely impossible however.
This time it took you a lot longer to fall asleep, silent tears streaming down your face because you felt so miserable. You yearned for some comfort, for Leah’s arms around you really, and you knew she would come in a heartbeat if you asked her. Still, you couldn’t. You just couldn’t!
The next time you woke up you felt even worse and it was at this point that you realized that you needed help. Somewhere in the hazy fog of fever and misery you managed to form this one rational thought. However you had little recollection of what happened next.
You remembered staring at Leah’s contact on your phone for a while, although you couldn’t say if you did so for a few seconds or minutes or even hours. In the end you decided against calling her, instead opting to get an Uber. How you managed to get to the hospital was beyond you. You had some vague memories of a very concerned and helpful Uber driver who even walked you into the ER.
Another thing you recalled was sending Leah a message once you sat in the waiting room, slumped against the wall and shivering violently.
R: Fine. At hospital. But fine. Don’t worry!!!!
You even remembered feeling very proud of this text; convinced that it would soothe all of your girlfriend’s concerns. If you would have been coherent enough to read Leah’s answer you would have known that it had the opposite effect. You did feel the constant buzzing of your phone from when the Englishwoman tried calling you over and over again, but it felt kind of nice against you aching body, so you didn’t do anything about it.
---
“She’s not answering her phone and she hasn’t texted me back, Lia! What do I do!?!”
Your girlfriend was crying as she basically screamed these words at her best friend. When she had gotten your text and couldn’t get a hold of you, she had called the Swiss woman for support and because the midfielder was known for being helpful in difficult situations.
“Okay Leah, first take a deep breath…” Lia began with a soothing tone.
“Are you kidding me?! How do you expect me to breath when I don’t know where my girlfriend, my very sick girlfriend might I add, is!” Leah yelled, feeling the need to punch something like some sort of cliché from a movie. Or even better, the blonde would have loved to have a ball at her feet right now, that she could pund with all of her strength into the back of the net. And then maybe get into a slightly too aggressive scuffle with an opponent. Just something to get rid of this nervous energy.
“You know where she is though, she’s in the hospital, so they’ll be taking care of her,” Lia reasoned, continuing quickly before your girlfriend could blow up at her again, “And fine let’s skip the breathing. Here’s what I think we should do; you pack some things your girl might need and I’m going to call the hospitals closest to her. It shouldn’t be too hard to figure out where she is. Then I’ll come pick you up and drive you over because you definitely shouldn’t be driving.”
Despite her earlier refusal Leah let out a deep breath, relief smoothing out the edges of her panic, at least now they had a reasonable plan. This was exactly why she had called her best friend and once the Englishwoman was less preoccupied with her fear for you she would be thanking Lia profusely.
A little later the two footballers arrived at the hospital, Lia once again taking the lead and asking about you. There was a bit of a back and forth where the staff had to figure out if they could even give them any information about you.
It was a big test for your girlfriend’s brittle composure, every second that ticked by brought her one step closer to bursting into tears or unleashing her fury on everyone that got into a five meter radius of her.
Leah managed to keep it together however, not using the healthiest coping mechanisms. The Englishwoman kept pinching herself to let at least some of the overwhelming emotions trickle out of her.
Lia frowned when she noticed, but decided to keep her mouth shut. She didn’t want to risk a full-blown outburst which might then keep them, or at least Leah, from seeing you even longer.
Finally they managed to find the right information and saw that Leah was in fact your emergency contact, something that the blonde had been telling them all along. If only they would have believed her then this wouldn’t have taken so long!
Thankfully things went quickly after that. Leah was led to your room while Lia wasn’t allowed to tag along. The Swiss woman promised that she would stay in the waiting room until your girlfriend had updated her, in case either Leah or you needed something.
Leah entered your room quietly, not wanting to disturb you even though with all the meds you had been given it was unlikely you would wake up anytime soon. Still she didn’t want to take the risk. So the defender tiptoed into your room, coming to a sudden halt once she had a good view of you.
It filled your girlfriend with fear and pain to see you so sick. You were pale, even more so than usual, almost the same color as the bed sheets. There was a tube connected to your arm, most likely to replenish you with everything you needed. You were also hooked up to a monitor, and it was a small relief to Leah that everything on it looked and sounded normal. As far as she could tell at least. Most of her medical knowledge stemmed from watching doctor shows, so that probably wasn’t the most reliable source.
After getting used to this sick, fragile version of you the blonde approached you, standing by your bedside. She looked down at you with teary eyes, gently stroking your cheek before smoothing out your tussled hair.
Your girlfriend craved more contact. She wanted to snuggle up next to you, wrap her arms around you and basically attach every centimeter of her body to yours. But Leah didn’t know how you would feel about that. Not when you weren’t awake to enforce your boundaries, not when you were in a vulnerable state which usually made you push people far away from you.
So with a sigh she pulled up a chair and sat down next to your bed, not even allowing herself to hold your hand. The England captain didn’t want to risk making you uncomfortable even the tinie when you woke up.
It was about 30 minutes later that Leah suddenly remembered that Lia was still waiting for her. She rushed down to the waiting room, not wanting to leave you alone for a second longer than totally necessary.
“She’s okay, I think. Or not too bad at least. So you can go home,” Leah explained, sounding very unsure. Everyone had told her that you would be okay, all the signs pointed to it, but she would only be able to believe it once you woke up and she could see for herself. And maybe not even then.
“That’s good! I guess you want to go back now, but call me if you think of anything you need, yeah?” Lia replied, giving her friend a tight hug.
Leah nodded, before turning around and walking as fast as she could back to your room. She would have run, but had the distinct feeling that that wouldn’t be appreciated by the hospital staff. And the Englishwoman didn’t want to annoy anyone, not when she was aware that they were already breaking the rules for her by letting her stay with you way past visiting hours.
---
When you woke up you noticed with a pang of sadness that there was no warm body next to you. It wasn’t like you and Leah stayed over at each other’s place every day, but definitely more often than not. And lately every time you woke up alone you felt some dismay. Everything was just better when you got to start the day with your girlfriend.
The second thing you became aware of was that despite just waking up you still felt exhausted, drained was the better word really, and also somewhat hazy and achy. It was then that you remembered that you were sick and that you had this weird fever dream where you took an Uber to the hospital. If you would have had the energy for it you would have laughed at the absurdity of this.
However as you opened your eyes you realized with a silent ‘Oh’ that it hadn’t been a fever dream after all, you really were in the hospital. Panic bubbled up in you, but got quickly cut off before it could become overwhelming by your favorite voice speaking up, even if you didn’t like how worried it sounded.
“Babe, are you awake? How are you feeling?”
You turned around, your lips turning into a smile when you laid your eyes on your girlfriend. She had gotten up from the chair she had presumably been sitting in, staring down at you intently. The Englishwoman’s eyes were trailing over your entire body, however not in the way they usually did, this felt more clinical, like she was attempting to spot anything that might be wrong.
“Could be worse,” you replied.
Leah gave you an unimpressed look. “But it also could be better?” She double-checked and you nodded sheepishly.
“Is there anything I can do before I get the doctor?” Your girlfriend asked softly.
For some reason Leah was still standing a good fifty centimeters away from your bed, her arms hidden behind her back as if she had to stop herself from reaching out to you. If only she would! You longed for some comforting touches and maybe a good, reassuring hug from the blonde.
“Get me home?” You joked with a pleading look. You definitely wanted to get out of the hospital but you knew that it wasn’t up to your girlfriend, and she would never do anything to endanger you.
“No can do, sorry babe. Anything else?” Leah prodded, hoping you would ask her for a hug. She could barely contain herself from launching at you, but the fear of crossing your boundaries in such a difficult situation kept her back.
“Maybe a cuddle,” you mumbled so quietly and rapidly that Leah couldn’t decipher what you were saying.
“What was that, babe? Sorry I didn’t quite hear you,” Leah apologized, taking a step closer to you.
You locked your eyes with your girlfriend’s, letting all the love and concern shining in them wash over you and give you the strength to utter your request more loudly. There wasn’t even a reason to feel weird about it, you knew that Leah wouldn’t deny it, would most likely be happy to oblige.
“A cuddle?”
Within milliseconds your girlfriend closed the distance between the two of you, sat down on the edge of your bed and leaned down to gather you carefully in her arms. You both felt and heard the relieved sigh Leah let out when you were tucked into her arms.
It made you wonder why the blonde had kept her distance before, a certain guess at the forefront of your mind. And in the safety of your girlfriend’s arms you managed to ask about it without much over thinking or fuss.
“Why did you sit all the way over there?”
All the way over there was a bit of an exaggeration, but also not really. Any sort of distance between your sick self and your girlfriend felt like way too much.
Leah tried to lean back a bit to look you in the eyes, but you held her firmly in place. You weren’t ready to lose the comfort of her body on yours, even if she put now weight on you, not sure if it would negatively impact you in your current state.
“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable with me being too close when you woke up. I know allowing closeness when you aren’t feeling too good is still very difficult for you,” Leah explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Even though your girlfriend showed you over and over again, day in and day out how amazing she was, the level of understanding and love behind this gesture still knocked you off your feet, or it would have if you were standing. It almost made you believe fully that you would always be safe with her. Almost. There was still a tiny bit of fear and insecurity left. It would probably take a good while longer until you got rid of that last remnant and you were once again very grateful for Leah’s patience.
“Thank you so so much, love,” you whispered, pulling the blonde even closer to you.
“Always,” Leah stated, not an ounce of doubt in her voice. She would always do whatever she could for you, to make you feel comfortable, loved and safe.
Your girlfriend allowed you to cuddle a bit longer until she gently extracted herself to get a doctor. At first you were somewhat annoyed at this, you would have preferred to stay wrapped up together for the rest of the night. However when the doctor announced after a quick exam that you would be allowed to go home later that day, you didn’t mind so much anymore. The thought of going home made up for losing contact with your girlfriend temporarily.
Especially because she instantly stated that she would be staying with you when the doctor pointed out that you could only go home if there was someone around to supervise you. The way her voice sounded slightly offended that this wasn’t abundantly clear to everyone made you smile fondly.
That’s how you found yourself sitting in Leah’s car that Lia had brought to the hospital early in the morning with help from Viv and Beth a few hours later. The short walk to the parking lot had tired you out and you couldn’t wait to get to Leah’s apartment and crawl into her cozy bed.
You were half asleep when your girlfriend asked you, “Home?” Still you managed to nod and echo her words. “Home,” you confirmed.
In your drowsy and still a bit feverish state you hadn’t realized that Leah was actually asking where you wanted to go, your apartment or hers. In your mind it was already decided that you would be going to the Englishwoman’s place. You loved her apartment more than yours at this point, everything about it homey and safe.
So when the blonde announced that you had arrived and you opened your eyes from the half-sleep you had been in a wave of unhappiness hit you as you took in your surroundings. You were parked in front of your own apartment building.
Tears flooded your eyes, which you tried to blink away hastily before Leah could spot them. It was stupid to be upset because of this, it wasn’t like your apartment was bad or anything, you were just really craving the comfort of your girlfriend’s place. Where everything smelt and felt like Leah.
Of course the defender detected your distress instantly. She had been watching you like a hawk ever since she had gotten to the hospital last night.
“What’s wrong, babe? Does something hurt? Should we go back to the hospital?” She asked you in rapid succession, trying unsuccessfully to keep her voice calm and steady.
You shook your head, mumbling that it was nothing. To emphasize this point you reached for your seatbelt, determined to get out of the car and into your apartment without any more of a hassle. Everything was fine. It didn’t matter that you had wanted to go to Leah’s home. Everywhere was better than the hospital anyway.
Leah didn’t give up so easily though. She put her hand on yours lightly, not taking a hold of it however, leaving you the option to pull it back if you wanted to. You didn’t, just this small contact made you feel better instantly.
“Please tell me what’s bothering you,” your girlfriend begged, her eyes looking suspiciously wet.
“It’s stupid,” you waved Leah off.
“Please,” Leah asked again, demolishing the last of your resolve to keep this to yourself.
“I really wanted to go to your place,” you explained, rushing to add, “But it doesn’t matter. Let’s just go inside now.”
Again you tried to make an attempt to leave the car, and again Leah stopped you with a gentle touch.
“We can still go over to my place if you prefer,” she offered, already turning her car back on.
“No, that’s not necessary. I’m just being silly,” you argued, but Leah just reached over to buckle you back in and pulled out of the parking space.
You didn’t have it in you to continue arguing. Plus you were too happy at the prospect of getting to go to your girlfriend’s place after all. So you just leant your head against the car window, letting your eyes flutter shut again.
“I thought you said you wanted to go home,” Leah said before you could fully fall asleep.
“I did, but I meant your place,” you answered tiredly.
“Oh,” your girlfriend exclaimed, her voice heavy with emotion. The idea of you thinking of her apartment as your home meant a lot to Leah. Every once in a while she couldn’t help but worry if she was doing enough to help you move on, to be the best girlfriend possible, to make you feel loved and safe. So this undeniable confirmation that she had been succeeding in all of these aspects meant the world to your girlfriend.
When there was no more reaction from you after this, Leah glanced over, smiling when she saw you sleeping soundly. You looked so young and open and vulnerable when you slept. Leah cherished the fact that you were comfortable being like this around her, that wouldn’t have been possible a few months ago.
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mxtantrights · 8 months ago
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Hello there, ‘tis I again! Soo happy you enjoyed the boxer!jason request!! I know, i love him too :)))
Today i bring forth another boxer!Jason ask, maybe you introduce him to your friends and they can’t see past the fact he kinda looks like a brute (even tho he’s such a big softie, i truly believe this man reads romeo and Juliet while waiting to get on the ring), and so at the end of the night he’s feeling insecure cause he could see how your friends looked at him and he starts wondering if they are right and you deserve someone who’s softer and more approachable. And obviously reader shows him just how amazing he is!!
Today i yearn for some good hurt/comfort, if you couldn’t tell lol
Hope you have fun writing this one!! Marvellous works 🩷🩷
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Everything goes right before the two of you get there. Thats how Jason knows something is gonna go wrong at this hang out. You told him all week that if he felt like not going, you could cancel. But he didn't want it to seem like he was blowing your friends off. So he trudged through.
He trudged through and is sitting side by side with you in a booth. And three of your friends are crowded into the other side of it. They've had a couple of drinks before you came. You weren't really in the mood to play catch up so you stick to your one while Jason goes dry because he's driving.
They have conversations about the recent news, the latest gossip, and then they ask about your life. Particularly your life with Jason. You start gushing about him, as if he isn't there, and tell them about how you met and how he treats you.
"This guy? This six foot tall, three hundred pounded brick wall?" one of them asks.
You scoff, "How he looks has nothing to do with how he treats me."
"Yeah, but doesn't he-don't you box?" another one of them asks him.
Jason clears his throat and sits up straight. But you notice it. You notice how he is trying to make himself smaller. He did it at the very beginning of your relationship, to make you less scared. You talked to him about it when the two of you got closer, and you haven't seen him do it since. Until now.
"I'm a boxer, yes. But I don't bring any of that home with me." Jason answers.
"Isn't it hard though? When you're angry? I mean who's to say you won't-" the third friend starts.
Hell. This has to stop.
"Enough." you speak.
They all look at you, at a loss for words. While it's true the four of you grew up looking like people who were afraid to tell others no, and looked like doormats, you were far from that person. Those days are over.
"I'm not gonna let you speak to him like that. He has been nothing but kind and open with me, and not that it's any of your business, but he has never laid his hands on me, or raised his voice." you say.
Then you're getting up from the booth, holding your hand out for Jason. He looks between you and your friends and then he's getting up from his seat. He takes your hand in his.
"He's my boyfriend. I want him in my life and I wanna be a part of his. So either you get that or you get lost." You put finally.
You turn around and walk right out the door with Jason. Jason who hasn't said a word yet. Jason who is holding onto your hand in a way that tells you he's not completely paying attention.
When the two of you cross the threshold of the doors, you squeeze his hand.
"Baby?" you ask him.
Jason looks at you then. Like everything is coming back into focus for him. He has a sad smile on his face.
"I'm sorry." He says.
"Don't ever be sorry for being you. If my so called 'friends' couldn't see past what you look like and what you do for a living then they don't need to be my friends." you explain to him.
Jason shakes his head, "You've known them longer than me. It's not fair that-"
"Jason Todd, I am not willing to give you up. For anyone. Ever. You got that?"
Jason lets out a small sigh. "Okay."
You let go of his hand to hold out your arms. He pouts a bit before stepping closer to you and wrapping his arms around you completely. You nuzzle into him more.
"I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you. I hope you know that." you add on.
"Yeah?" he asks.
"I swear it." you answer.
a/n: thank you so so much for sending this in! <333 I love some good hurt/comfort too!! I hope you like it!!
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usomads · 1 month ago
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All-Inclusive // Jimmy Uso x Reader
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Author’s Note -> Ahhhh I love this one 🤭 Been working on this for a bit so I hope y’all like it! Also: I’m thinking about making a tag list for my stories… is that something y’all would be interested in? Lmk and as always, happy reading! 
Plot -> You knew being at an all-inclusive suite included everything like drinks, food, etc., but you didn’t know you’d find yourself getting even more.
Pairings -> Jimmy Uso x Fem!Reader (Y/N)
Warnings -> Cursing, Fingering, Oral Sex (M!Receiving, F!Receiving), Choking, P in V, Creampie, Not Proofread, MDNI
Word Count -> 2.8k
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“A closet full of clothes, and yet I never know what to wear to these things,” you muttered to yourself, sifting through hangers trying to find something you could work with. Articles of clothing scattered the floor around you as you stood frustrated, trying to throw something halfway decent together. It was always like this for these events, you always knew exactly how to do your hair and makeup but for some reason the outfit was something you could never figure out. You and your boyfriend, Jonathan, were going to a WWE Premium Live Event, and since he wasn’t booked for this card you decided to get a suite with some other wrestlers and their spouses to watch it. Well, maybe, if you could find something to wear.
“Baby!” Jon calls from downstairs, “we gotta go! We’re gonna be late, you almost ready?” He makes his way to you in the closet, noticing you were still trying to get yourself together.
“Go ahead, I’ll head there in a bit. Still tryna find an outfit,” you sighed, clearly annoyed at yourself. Jon wraps his arms around your waist from behind and plants a kiss to your cheek. “Alright, baby girl, just don’t take too long, okay? I know Bianca and Jade are dying to see you, it’s been a minute since y’all been together.”
“I know, I know, I’ll be right behind you, I promise,” you smiled at him as he gave you another kiss and left for the arena, while you went back to sorting through your closet. After about 10 minutes of staring at the same clothes on hangers you were close to texting Jon to let him know it wasn’t happening tonight, when something caught your eye. A black silk button up was nearly hidden behind all the other clothes hanging up, but you saw it. And it would go perfect with this new skirt I bought too. Grabbing it from the rack, you were able to get a closer look. It was for sure oversized, and you were trying to remember where you could’ve gotten it from. It didn’t matter anyways, because you were already throwing it on along with the new skirt and a simple pair of black heels. You made your way to the full-length mirror in your closet, adjusting the buttons on the top to tease your cleavage modestly, but enough to make them noticeable. Giving yourself one last up-down in the mirror, you were satisfied. More than satisfied, actually, you looked stunning. You shook your head and laughed, the annoyance and stress of the past hour and a half feeling silly now that you had finally found something to wear and it paid off. You grab your phone off the dresser and call a driver to come get you, grabbing a small bag to take with you as you head downstairs and out the door.
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“Y/N, oh my god, girl! You finally made it!” Bianca yelled excitedly as her and Jade ran to the door of the suite to greet you. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen you,” Bianca gave you a strong hug and rocked the two of you back and forth, “how have you been?!”
“It’s been too damn long!” Jade exclaimed, “and can I just say… you look hot. Jon said you were having wardrobe issues and, honey, looking at you I just don’t think that’s true,” the three of you laughed.
“No, seriously, I was! I damn near canceled because I couldn’t find anything, but finding this top hidden in the back of the closet saved it. I don’t even remember where I got it honestly, I don’t normally buy stuff this oversized but, hey, I guess my forgetfulness finally came in clutch,” you chuckled. 
“And did, you look incredible, babe. Now c’mon, let’s go mingle with everybody!” Bianca and Jade locked your guys’s arms as the three of you hopped around from group to group in the suite, chatting with some new faces and some you hadn’t seen in a very long time. Your eyes tried searching for your boyfriend, but you couldn’t seem to find him anywhere so you assumed he had gone to the restroom or maybe was notified he had to do something for the show last minute and shrugged it off. After a while though, you had to pee so you excused yourself from the group and walked across the hall to the restrooms. You did your business and washed your hands, drying them and making your way back to the suite. You opened the bathroom door to be greeted by your boyfriend.
“Oh, hey, babe! I was just looking for you, where have you be-,” you were cut off by Jon stepping into the restroom with you, pinning you against the wall and locking the door behind him. You gasped as your back collided with the hard surface behind you as Jon stared down at you with an intensity you had never seen before. His eyes trailed down your body to take in what you were wearing, coming back up and staring directly at the shirt you were wearing. 
“I see you found my shirt,” he growled, and your memory clicked in from a week prior. ***FLASHBACK***
“Babe! Have you seen my button up? The silk one my mom got me a while back?” Jonathan shouted from the bedroom as you were applying your lipstick, getting ready for date night. “Um, no I don’t think so… did you check the laundry?” 
“Yeah, it’s not in there, can’t find it. I’ll just wear something else, don’t worry about it!”
***END FLASHBACK***
“I- I thought it was mine, I found it in the back of my closet. I’m sorry…” you muttered, nervously, not wanting him to be mad at you for “stealing” his shirt. “Oh, baby, I’m not mad,” Jon paused, lowering his head closer to your trembling lips, “but if you’re really sorry…” he inches closer, his breath fanning over your cheeks as his lips brush yours, “then show me.”
You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in, closing the distance between you. He kissed you with a desire you had never seen from him before, hungrily brushing his tongue against yours as he asserted his dominance over you. His fingers worked on the buttons of your (his) shirt, but left the clothing sitting on your shoulders as the cool air conditioning hit your nipples, hardening them instantly. You shuddered at the feeling, as his hands hiked your shirt up and kneaded your ass as he planted kisses along the base of your neck. “You know… I love it… when you wear my shirts… so fuckin’ sexy.” You moaned as his lips drifted down your neck and to your chest, as his hands fondled your waist and inched closer to your growing wetness. The tips of his fingers teased the front of your panties, toying with the material as you bucked your hips desperately for any sort of friction. “Patience, baby, imma give it to you,” you weren’t listening, too consumed in your neediness for him, and continued to squirm underneath him. You’re snapped out of your trance by Jon pinning your arms above your head and growling in your ear. “What I say, huh? Keep still ‘fore I give you somethin’ to squirm about, and you ain’t gonna like it.” You whimper and nod in response, trying to hold it together as you fight every urge to act on your own desperation. Jon holds your wrists above your head with his left hand, using the right to slide your panties to the side and dive his fingers into your wetness. You trembled, sighing and throwing your head back to hit the wall as his digits caressed your dripping folds. He was torturing you, edging his fingers closer and closer to your entrance but never slipping inside, instead opting to watch your face twist and contort at the way a simple touch from him had you so riled up. He loved the way your breathing would stagger as he teased you and watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, giving into his touch. 
“Mmm, baby please,” you cried, the sounds of your whines echoing around you. “You sorry, hmm?” He teased, brushing his thumb across your clit, causing you to jolt in pleasure. “Y-yes, fuckk baby, I’m so- I’m sorry,” you hissed.
“You gonna have to be more convincing than that” You whined loudly at his response, turning into a loud and dragged out moan as he slipped a finger inside. Your pussy immediately tightened around it, squeezing it as he pumped in and out of you. Your eyes rolled into your skull as he carefully worked his magic on you. Your fingers gripped onto the blazer he was wearing, trying to cling onto anything as he drove you further into pure, unadulterated bliss. His finger picked up pace and glided deeper and deeper inside you, brushing against the soft padding of your g-spot as he curled it. You felt yourself stretch around him again with the addition of a second finger, your walls spasming around both digits as he mercilessly thrusted his fingers inside of you. 
“O-oh my god, Jon I-, I’m so c-close,” you moaned as his lips found their way back to your neck again. “Hold it. You’re not cumming ‘til I say you can, got me? Now tell me how sorry you are.”
“I- I’m sorry, baby, I’m so so sorry. Now please, I’m gonna-”
“Uh uh, not sorry enough. Get on your knees and convince me.” He withdrew his fingers from you faster than you anticipated, nearly making your knees give out in the process, but you obeyed him like the good girl you were. You dropped to your knees in an instant, hands immediately grabbing for his belt and zipper, as you worked quickly to free him from the constraints of his pants. You could tell from the prominent bulge that lined his boxers he was painfully hard as you palmed him, Jon letting out a low groan and instinctively grinding himself into your hand. “Fuck baby, don’t tease. You know ion like that shit.” You pulled down his boxers to reveal his cock and salivated at the sight; the veins along his shaft prominent as his length twitched upon release from its imprisonment. You looked up at the man who stood before you, his eyes darkened and glazed over with lust as he watched you coat his dick in your saliva before taking his tip in your mouth. You sucked lightly and gave kitten licks to him, knowing how sensitive his head was and watching as he threw his head back in ecstasy and released your name from his lips in low moans. Your mouth worked its way down his shaft, hollowing your cheeks as you took him inch by inch, his hands grasping your hair as you took as much of him as you could.
“Mmm, fuck ma, lemme fuck that pretty lil mouth of yours. Always so good for me.” You gave a slight nod, relaxing your jaw and opening your mouth more as his hips made slow and steady movements. You gagged on him, but focused on the breathing from your nose as he drilled himself into your throat. Tears brimmed your eyes, threatening to spill onto your cheeks as he continued to thrust faster and faster, making you gag on him more and more. “You love it when I use your pretty little mouth like this, hmm? How sorry are you now?” You moaned around him as he showed no mercy on your throat and gripped your hair, and watching his face told you he was reaching the edge. Surprisingly, he released himself from your mouth with a pop and helped you up, still dizzy from the assault his cock was performing on your mouth. 
“I still don’t think you’re that sorry, you wanna prove it to me? Hop up on this counter and spread your legs for me, pretty girl, imma fuck you ‘til I believe it.” You hopped on the counter of the bathroom sink and opened yourself to him completely, letting him see your glistening folds aching and ready for him. He pumped himself a few times before lining himself up and slamming into you, giving you no room to adjust to him as he ruthlessly pounded into you and had you screaming his name. His hand quickly met your mouth, covering it to keep you quiet as he leaned in and started fucking deeper into you. You were seeing stars, moaning into his hand and raking your nails across his shoulders as he drove into you at an unforgiving pace. 
“Shit, Y/N, so fuckin’ tight f’me. Fit me like a fuckin’ glove. Can’t get enough of this pussy, baby,” he moaned, continuing his fast-paced thrusts. “You wanna tell me how sorry you are now, baby girl? You think you’re sorry enough for me to let you cum?” He removed the hand covering your mouth and brought it down to your clit, rubbing slow circles into the sensitive bud.
“H-holy s-shit, mmm, fuck baby I- I’m s-sorry! I’m sorry I-, oh my god, I’m so fuckin’ sorry, baby,” you cried, “p-please believe me, I’m so sorry. I’m gonna-” “You think you deserve it, hmm?” He wraps his hand around your throat, gently squeezing as you let out a strangled moan. “Go ahead baby, you think you deserve this nut?”
“Y-yes, ohh fuck, yes I deserve it. B-been so good f-f’you.” You choked out, consumed completely in Jon and the pleasure he was providing you.
“You’ve been such a good girl… you really are sorry, huh?” You nodded frantically, letting soft moans fall off your lips. “Let go, baby, cum all over this dick f’me. Lemme see you.”
The orgasm that erupts from the pit of your stomach is explosive enough to make supernovas look small in comparison. Your body and pussy convulse around him as you scream his name and release yourself on his cock. Your vision goes black as you’re overwhelmed with an intense feeling of pleasure as your juices coat his dick and lower abdomen, squirting all over him. He watches you as you let go, taking in every detail of your mouth agape and chanting his name, the furrow of your brows, your eyes squeezing shut, and most of all your walls constricting around his cock, coaxing him to his own release. He coats your insides with a loud groan, releasing himself completely into your aching pussy as he slowly pistons himself into you to ride out both of you two’s orgasms. Soft moans and pants escape the both of you, coming down from what felt like the most intense release the two of you have shared. You both sat for a moment, evening your breathing and taking the time to fully recover before he pulled out of you and moved your panties back to their rightful position, his cum leaking out of you and soaking them in the process. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and you smiled up at him, softly kissing his lips before jumping down and adjusting yourself in the mirror.
You both desperately tried to cover up the events of what just happened, feeling satisfied and unlocking the door to the restroom before attempting to sneak out, but Bianca being in front of the door stopped you both in your tracks.
“Oh, thank god, I’ve had to pee for the past 30 minutes,” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows at the both of you, “didn’t know Y/N needed help using the bathroom, Jon.” The two of you blushed, knowing your attempt to hide your escapade had failed miserably. “Now get y’all horny asses inside, you’re lucky they didn’t start filming the live segment in the suite yet, or the TV audience would’ve heard quite the show… now, if you’ll excuse me,” she winked, hurrying past you both as you and your boyfriend exchanged a quick glance before sneaking your way back in the suite.
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farfromstrange · 1 year ago
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Is It Over Now? | Matt Murdock x Reader
Masterlist
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader ; (hinted) Frank Castle x Reader ; Elektra Natchios x Matt Murdock
Summary: Matt cheated on you, and you are trying to navigate through it.
Warnings: Angst, no happy ending, break-up, mention of cheating, song references (Taylor Swift), inspired by 'Is It Over Now?', (some) Matt "slander", (somewhat) suicidal thoughts, alcohol consumptions, hint at smut
Word Count: 1.7k
A/n: 1989 TV came out and I am losing my shit. Is It Over Now? Is my new favorite song and I just had a brain fart that made this. You can read this if you're a Swiftie and catch the references or just read it without listening to the song. It works either way.
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It wasn’t supposed to end like this.
To be fair, there was a time when you thought it would never end. The thought of ever having a last kiss with him would have killed you back then. 
He told you that you were the love of his life. You believed him. He was yours, certainly. You can’t deny that.
You were happy, you laughed and cried together, and part of you figured that if you ever broke up, you would find a way to work through it somehow. 
Maybe in another universe, you are still together. Maybe in another universe, you two are still friends. Maybe in another universe, you never had to lose each other.
In this reality though—in this brutal, unforgivable reality—everything changed in a matter of a day. And there is nothing you can do about it now.
Your flower was withering in secret, and you didn’t realize what it was doing to you. Every time you woke up alone, every canceled date, every time he called you and told you he wouldn’t make it home tonight, it was sure to build up to this. 
But this, whatever the hell this is, it hurts beyond compare. 
He said you were a rose, but now that you look in the mirror, you only see a rotten mess.
The past few months have done this to you. He has done this to you. The paper airplanes crashed and burned. There is nothing left but pure bitterness and this hatred you have toward yourself and him; you just want to land your fist in his face, and then maybe your own because how could he hurt you like that after making you love him so very much? 
You loved him so much, but now you doubt he ever loved you back. 
Date after date, coffee after coffee, nights spent together on his couch and in his bed, sharing laughter, sharing tears, it all feels like a hoax now. 
You held him when he was unconscious, stitched him up and told him he was going to be okay. Where was he when you were bleeding out from your own battles? You wonder.
His smile used to be your safe haven, the epitome of innocence and strength, but now it only makes you angry. It makes you resent him. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but you still do.
So much has changed, and all it took was one day. 
One day. 
Three hundred days, all wasted in one. 
If you think about it, you spent almost an entire year attached to each other’s side. You moved in together. You kissed, you had sex, you shared secrets you wouldn’t have told anyone else. You helped him hide away from the world, from his enemies, made the world go quiet, and comforted him while he cried. You waited up, you worried, and you almost lost him more times than you can count, and you still stayed.
When no one else would take a chance on him, when he felt everyone was against him and going to leave him, you acted as his rock. You stayed.
You thought he was the one. 
And then it just… ended. 
You gave him the benefit of the doubt when you found her in his dress shirt on his leather couch. The very same couch you two often shared passionate nights on, but at the same time it used to be a symbol of so much more than that.
You let him explain. He explained that she got seriously hurt after showing up out of nowhere, and he just wanted to help without putting you at risk. You believed him because that is the kind of man he was in your head. He was going through some things, things you couldn’t possibly understand, and she was the connection. You tried to understand. In the process of understanding him though, you lost yourself. 
That is something you will never forgive him for. Making you care, making you love him, and unintentionally making you give up on yourself while he continued to break your heart.
You never wanted this to end, never wanted him to go, but in the end, it was the only way. Sticking around wasn’t an option anymore, you have to remind yourself.
He did the one thing he promised he would never do. He broke your heart and your trust into a million pieces that you are now left to pick up on your own. 
You didn’t want to see it before. You were too in love to open your eyes.
He wouldn’t do such a thing, right? You remember repeating that to yourself, to your friends, to Foggy and Karen, but Karen saw him with her, too, and she gave you little hope.
Still, you believed in him. You believed in his morale and his faith. You had faith in him, not even in God but in him and the man he pretended to be—and somehow, he still picked up the knife when you weren’t looking and buried it in your back. 
There were so many signs, but you were blind. So many flashing lights. Red flags. Screaming voices in the back of your head begging you to think. You were in a forest full of trees, yet you saw nothing.
When you came home to find his lips on hers, that’s when you knew. Too little, too late.
He called your name. He told you, “This isn’t what it looks like!” But you lost count of the times he used the same line in relation to her.
To anything, really. He always knew how to talk his way out of something when you were together, although back then, it was mostly harmless.
“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. “And you turned right back around and fucked her!”
“It was just a kiss,” he argued. 
“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”
“No,” Matt was adamant because he could hear your heart breaking.
The way you spoke to him was so eerily quiet. That was how he knew he lost you, and he tried to fix it with nothing but his hands. 
But that is not how you fix a broken vase. That’s how you make it worse and hurt yourself in the process.
You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said. 
“No. Fuck you, Matt!”
You tore the necklace with his initial off your neck and tossed it at his feet. You couldn’t even look at it. You wonder what happened to it after he picked it up. 
“I trusted you. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I was there when no one else was, and this is how you repay me?” you said.
You should have never let him fool you.
At least you had the decency to keep your lonely nights to yourself.
“Sweetheart, please,” Matt tried to beg again. 
You wouldn’t let him. Thank God you were strong enough to withstand the tears in his eyes. 
“You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock,” was one of the last things you said to him. “I wish we’d never met.”
Three hundred days. You fell in love. You finally knew what love felt like, and then…then he turned around and fucked it all up. 
“We’re done.”
Some days, you still regret it, but if it was so easy for him to toss all this time together down the drain, he probably wasn’t worth it. 
But God, you were so in love. 
Sweet nothings whispered in your ear are gone now. You’re all alone in your bed. No one to cuddle, no one to touch. It has been a while since you heard someone say, “I love you,” and mean it. You felt loved until you didn’t. Until the life he led ate him up. 
Instead of talking, instead of fighting with you, he drove you into a tree. A car that didn’t need sight, and still he crashed. It was winter then, the snow painted red by the blood of your broken heart. Your favorite dress torn up as you tried to escape. He reached for you the same way you reached for him, but you weren’t there. And he wasn’t there when you needed him most.
Part of you feels bad. You could have worked through this if he hadn’t kissed her. Or maybe you wouldn’t have. In the end, it killed you. It killed him. 
You killed each other. 
Though there are still days when you think about jumping off of very high somethings just to get his attention. Just for him to see you. To come to rescue you. It is a hurtful and selfish thought. Yet, you can’t help it. 
He was your first true love. 
Your mind keeps repeating the same sentence: It wasn’t supposed to end like this. 
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he told you once. 
He searched for something greater in the bed of someone he loved before. You weren’t his first love. You should have known he would say that and not mean it.
But when exactly did you go wrong?
Was it over when he stopped coming home at night? Was it over when he forgot your anniversary? Was it over when he canceled your birthday dinner? Or was it over when he shoved his throat down his ex-girlfriend’s throat in front of you and acted as if it didn’t matter? Was it over then?
“Another one for the lady,” a voice pipes up beside you. 
Your empty glass of tequila disappears, now replaced by a full one. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on. 
“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger. 
“Nah, don’t thank me.” He sits down next to you. “You look miserable.”
“What if I am?”
“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”
You huff but offer the stranger your hand with a mention of your name.
He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”
“Nice to meet you,” you say. 
Broken people make bad decisions, but whether it was over when he took her right there on his couch, or it was over when you told him it was doesn’t matter. 
It is over now, and all you want to do is forget. 
You need to forget Matt Murdock. 
And if this stranger called Frank needs to unbutton your blouse to help you do so, you will gladly follow him home. 
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Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @ravenclaw617
(also, I keep tagging you in stuff, but I also think you might like this @blackshadowswriter)
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willreigns · 4 months ago
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Concert Goers
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A/N: Teehee, I got cancelled on last minute for a concert and this is my coping mechanism. ~800 words of smut without much plot.
CW: Sex in a public place, sort of dom!Levi, protected sex (*looks at sticky note* no glove, no love amiright), one night stand.
Credit to @cafekitsune for the dividers!
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“Y-yes, Levi-i, right there. Ah-,” a hand moved to clamp your mouth shut.
“You’re going to need to lower your voice, there’s still people outside,” he whispers in your ear, his cock stilling against you as you whine in protest.
How incredulous, you could hardly believe it. You had your legs parted, pinned against a bathroom door by someone you hardly knew, when you were supposed to be seated, waiting patiently for the concert to start; you had truly surprised yourself this time around. All because your “friend” cancelled last minute, forcing you to sell the ticket to some random stranger.
Actually, a hot stranger.
A rather nice one too, serious and kept to himself. Talk was polite and considerate, he himself used to attending concerts alone and not wanting to bug you.
You told him how your friend cancelled, leaving you to fend for yourself at a concert, you who had a deep fear of doing anything alone. Everything was just polite discussion as he commended you for coming anyway.
Polite, up until a couple of drinks later when you began stumbling over your words, mumbling about how your friend was actually someone you wanted to be with romantically and how tremendously sad you felt. There must be something wrong with me, you remember thinking, but then realized you had said it out loud as Levi had given you a blank stare, his eyes flashing with something unrecognizable.
You had barely made it past the opening act when the sudden need to puke bubbled in your stomach (in part because of the drinks and in part due to the crippling nerves that were beginning to overwhelm you) and Levi offered to accompany you to the bathrooms.
How pathetic, you thought.
Levi must like pathetic.
Levi begins moving deeply within you again, and you let out wanton moans as the bathroom stall door rattled against the force of his movements. He places soft kisses against the column of your neck, before trailing towards the side, sinking his teeth in the conjuncture of your neck and shoulder.
“Ah fuck, that little shit doesn’t know what he’s missing,” he growled, before going back to that menacing pace, the one that took your breath away. He removes his hand to grip your hip and then to your leg, bringing it higher and locking it in place. He gives you a look to try and stay quiet.
You can do nothing but lean your head against the crook of his neck in efforts to be silent, the wet sounds of his cock meeting your dripping cunt to the hilt inundating your mind. Your eyes were wide, a fucked out haze permeating through them, all you could do was take it and take it you did, whimpering in delight against him. You wondered how you’d look once this was done, lipstick smeared, eyeliner smudged due to the fat tears slipping down your cheeks.
Levi pulls away to look at you, half lidded grey eyes so stormy and ablaze at the same time, the one arm holding your leg up letting go in order to wrap around your arched back to bring you closer, and the other coming to circle fingers upon your sensitive clit, snapping those delicious hips against you with a force.
“Such a pretty girl, such a brave girl, you want to cum?” The praise triggers deep parts of you that you didn’t even know existed. You nod frantically against his shoulder and he shifts so that at the new angle his pelvis grinds against you clit, so deliciously considerate, his cock now moving within your wet walls as Levi opted to rut into you.
“Cum then, pretty. Cum on my cock.”
You can feel yourself getting close. You begin to let out a string of curses, his name punctuating them all, seeking out your high as your pupils dilate, hand trying to grip anything on the flat plane of the door in an effort to ground yourself. There’s nothing but the man fucking you.
“Shit, shit, shit, I’m going to cum. I need you to cum princess, your pussy feels so fucking good.”
His words are too much for you as you come hard around him, letting out a frantic cry as Levi began snapping his hips quickly against you. Outside, you can hear the audience begin to cheer, the band you came to see probably already playing. Suddenly he stops, trying to push as deep as he could. You feel his cock pulsate once, twice, and then he’s groaning as he comes into his condom, the pulsating feeling making your walls quiver with overstimulation.
Levi pulls away from you and takes a good look at you, admiring eyes that made you look away with sudden shyness.
“You’re a mess, let’s get you cleaned up.” All you can do is nod shakily in response.
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fartcushion · 4 days ago
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Farter Christmas
Santa sat by the fire in his favourite chair, about to start the second check of the Naughty or Nice list. A formality really, as mistakes were rare and with all the boys and girls being extra good for Christmas, the chance of slipping from Nice to Naughty was extremely low.
As he scrolled through it, he reached a particularly troubling duo. The twins; Bryan and Ryan Miller.
Bryan was the perfect little angel, all year round. His brother, Ryan, on the other hand was a terror. He made it his mission in life to be his brother's biggest bully. He would break his toys, steal his sweets and other acts of cruelty. He was particularly gross in his torture, one of his favourite acts was to take every opportunity to fart on him, especially if he could time it to be in Bryan's face.
Santa tutted, shaking his head. It appeared this year had been no different in the Miller household. Years of giving Bryan what he asked for in his letter, and leaving Ryan only coal had done nothing to teach the lesson. That good girls and boys get presents, and naughty children do not. It was as if for Ryan there was no greater gift than getting to bully his brother.
The boys stopped believing in Santa quite early; Ryan probably never truly believing and willing to assign the coal to his neglectful parents, their pathetic effort to try and change him. Bryan had believed, but as the abuse grew the magic of Christmas lost it's spark. Soon Santa had no power there anymore. Frustrated by his time honoured traditions limiting his influence, he kept an eye on the pair.
--------------------
Years passed and nothing changed as they became adults. Bryan remained good at heart despite the abuse, which only escalated as the pair grew older. But it had taken its toll, he was a lonely and timid man. Ryan stayed rotten to the core, becoming more sadistic as his antics went unchecked.
He used the same bullying tactics to get ahead at work, now he was a top manager. He'd even been able to hire a Personal Assistant, of which he gave the honour to Bryan. Since he had struggled to find work due his shyness, he'd been desperate for anything, which Ryan took full advantage of. Getting 40+ hours a week to fart on his brother, and being paid for it.
In the office on Christmas Eve, as the two readied to finish for the holiday, they were unaware how things were finally about the change.
"It's been great having you work for me this past year, feel like you've been a real asset"
Bbbrrrppp
Ryan let out a fart to emphasize the ass in asset.
A sniffing noise could be heard from under Ryan's desk.
"Do you like working for your brother?"
Bbbrrrrppppppp
*sniff* "Yes, I do, sir. Thank you again for the opportunity "
Ryan let out a final toot before standing up from his desk and releasing his brother who began to crawl out. Ryan reached down and pushed Bryan's face into the seat of his chair so he could enjoy the days scent.
"You're welcome. Now don't forget, even though the office is closed from Boxing Day through New Years, I expect you to come in. I've got some reports I'm behind on so I'll need you to do those for me".
"Of course, sir. I'm happy to do that" Bryan muffled in to the cushion.
"Good boy. Right, I'm off. Make sure you have the farts out of that chair before you go. I'll see you tomorrow at mom and dad's. Don't forget to bring my gifts for them".
"I won't, sir". Not lifting his face from the chair, Bryan called after his brother as he was heading for the door. "Erm, sir, I'm sorry to ask. But...I was told earlier this year I'd be getting a Christmas bonus. I haven't heard anything though"
Ryan smirked, unseen by his brother, and walked back to behind the desk where his downtrodden brother was still dutifully sniffing.
"Oh, hadn't you heard?! I'm sorry to say that the bonuses were cancelled this year. Despite all us managers arguing for them to honoured"
"Oh...I see... That's a shame, I really could have used the money. But, I'm sure you did everything you could".
"I really did, I would appreciate your gratitude for my efforts" and with that Ryan turned his ass to his brother. Bryan, taking the hint, leant forward and kissed his ass.
Pppprrrpppp
For the rest of the night Ryan had been laughing and smirking to himself every time he thought of that moment. His pathetic brother, face down in his chair, believing he'd fought for his bonus. Oh he'd fought alright, he argued that his assistant didnt deserve it, that he missed some key targets and so wasn't viable. Ryan was reminiscing fondly on that brilliant ploy of his as he fell asleep.
In the room there arose such a clatter that Ryan awoke with a start. The room was lit as if by dozens of candles, but none could be seen. But in the room there was a large man. Dressed in a luxurious red velvet suit, with white fur trim and gold buttons. On top of his head a hat of the same cloth. Ryan could see him from his bed, but nothing else, as he was unable to move. As he struggled and writhed, the man in the room just let out a chuckle.
"Oh, hohoho, you won't get out of that"
Ryan lifted his head as much as he could and caught sight of large ribbons wrapped around him, mummifying him.
"Little Ryan Miller, all grown up now. You were always a very naughty boy. You made your brother suffer as children and now as adults. I didn't help when you were young, and I have regretted that,l dearly, so I'm here now to right that wrong".
"Fuck you talking about, you crazy weirdo" Ryan screamed. Thrashing in his constraints. "Bryan, is that you? Is this some ridiculous attempt to stand up to me?"
The man stepped closer and Ryan could see it was not his brother in disguise. His white long beard was real. The man was old, though still fresh faced and rosy cheeked, but his eyes gave away his age. Windows to a tired, ancient soul.
"Noo, Ryan. It's me, Santa, and I'm here to teach you a very important lesson".
Santa moved to the side of the bed. "I thought a fitting punishment would be to give you a taste of your own medicine.
Santa stepped up on to the bed, Ryan caught sight of his large shiny black leather boots. As Santa stood over him, Ryan could see the bulk of the man. His gut stretching the coat. He watched as the man turned around, his trousers pulled tight across his large, fat ass, as if threatening to tear.
Ryan desperately struggled against the bindings as Santa lowered himself down. His ass fully engulfing Ryan's face. His cheeks pooled over the side of Ryan's head, on to the pillows.
Muffled cries came from beneath, Santa just wriggled his ass back and forth until the sound stopped. Lifting himself back up off his victim he looked behind him, Ryan had passed out.
The cold air woke Ryan, chilly wind biting at his nose. He opened his eyes, confused by what was happening. Had that been a dream? No it couldn't have been. He was clearly outside, looking up at the night's sky. He couldn't move still and worse now his head seemed to be in a box or something, he could turn slightly, but only enough before hitting the edge of the window he was looking through. His nose and mouth sticking out in to the air. Where the fuck was he, and where was the crazy man who thought he was Santa? Ryan thought.
Not long passed before he heard footsteps. Crunching of boots on snow.
Then the man's face reappeared, looking down at him.
"Oh good, you're awake now. We did quite a few towns while you were out, I was worried you'd miss out on too much of my punishment".
"LET ME OUT YOU PSYCHOPATH!"
"Now, now, Ryan. Name calling is very naughty behaviour. I told you, I'm here to teach you a lesson". He moved out of view for a second, he climbed up causing Ryan's prison to tilt under his weight.
Santa shuffled in to view again, once more his ass in Ryan's field of view.
"I had the elves work on a special sleigh for me. Which you're in now. This hole you're looking through is in the seat. I'm going to take you with me as I deliver presents. Your face is going to be the perfect cushion"
As Ryan started to cry for help, Santa sat down. His wide rear filling the sleigh seat, his cheeks parting to allow Ryan's nose into his crack. The material of his trousers was soft on Ryan's skin. The warmth was a welcome change from the cold air. But the stench was not.
Santa chuckled to himself, his plan finally being enacted. Sometimes you just had to punish the wicked, he'd learned that too late. He set the reindeers off and spoke calmly. His magic allowed Ryan to hear perfectly despite the whistling wind and the large ass covering his face.
"Shall we begin, Ryan. Don't bother answering, I can't hear you. I'm going to go down this special naughty list I made for you. It lists every misdeed you've done. For each one I read out I'm going to fart in your face. You like doing that to other people don't you, do you find it as funny when you're on the receiving end?"
Pffftt
"There's a taster for you".
The airy fart hit Ryan, he couldn't escape it.
"Now, I know what you're thinking. There's no way I can fart enough to cover everything on the list. Well good news, I'm about to be eating a lot of cookies, mince pies and all the other treats boys and girls leave out for me around the world. Oh and don't get me started on what all that milk does to me! Mrs Claus is going to be thrilled this year to not have to put up with all my gas. Now I have my little sniffer here to take it all" Santa wriggled his ass back and forth. The seat was built well; Santa's weight was held off enough that Ryan wouldn't pass out from suffocation, but it meant his nose would still bury deep. Deeper with each wriggle.
"Right, here we go, let's start with this recent one. You stole your brother's Christmas bonus! Oh naughty naughty"
Pppprrrbbbb
Ryan heard his crime read out and the echoing rip of the fart that followed. He was furious. But all he could think about was the odour. It smelt like boiled sprouts.
"That's it, breath it in, my farts are as rotten as your behaviour. I may be magical but my farts still stink, boy. Remember how you cancelled the office Christmas party so you could make up for the losses from your poor performance"
BBBBPPPTTTT
"This is for making Bryan work next week when he isn't being paid, again to cover your ass"
BBBBBBFFFFFTTTTT
Ryan didn't think he could take much more of this. He was desperate for fresh air, all he could smell was the pungent sweaty ass and then a sudden rush of foul stench, that hissed, boomed and ripped from the hole millimetres from his nose.
Suddenly cold air rushed and the darkness was replaced with pale light as Santa stood up to deliver his next present.
"Please" Ryan pleaded. "Please, no more"
"Oh, Ryan, you haven't learned your lesson yet, you just don't want to accept your punishment. Now shush". Magically a bauble gagged his mouth, preventing him saying anything more.
"I don't want you making noise and waking the children", and off Santa went to make the delivery.
Before long Ryan was back under the warmth of his ass. As they were now in a large town the stops were frequent, so he got more air breaks between farts. But Santa had chosen particularly heinous crimes of his to justify particularly bad farts. They started to smell like spoilt milk.
"Remember when you threw you brothers college acceptance letter in the bin and told him they rejected him, all so you didn't lose your punching bag"
Ppppprrrrrrrrbbbbbbbb
'"That time you slept with the girl he liked..
Bbbpptt
In his bed!"
Ppppbbbbfffttt
The night passed on. As Santa read his list he let fart after fart out on Ryan's face. The smell changed with each country's food offering, but it was always vile.
”You sold his puppy and told your parents he let it escape"
Bbbbrrrrbbppp
"In front of all his friends at your birthday party you made him eat cake you'd farted on"
Pppbbtt prrrrbbbb
"The next time he made a friend and invited him over, you stuffed the kids head in the toilet, and he never spoke to Bryan again!"
Pprrrrppp
The ball gag was aching Ryan's jaw. His nose was sore from being crushed up against the hole for so long as Santa had truly mastered wriggling it deep up in there.
His body ached from lying still in the small prison. He thought hard about each and every act Santa read out, trying to find an shred of remorse within himself. Maybe if he could convince Santa he was sorry he'd end this. But it just wasn't there. He was better than everyone. His brother was pathetic. He fucking loved having him as his bitch. Each fart Santa unleashed just made him angrier, and he started plotting what he'd do to Bryan when he was free.
More time passed, a blink of the eye for the world but hours for Santa and Ryan.
At the next and final stop, Santa sighed. Shuffled over he looked down at Ryan through the hole. His face sad.
"Oh Ryan, this isn't working is it. I know. I see you when you're sleeping and I know when you're awake. Do you think I can't tell what you're thinking" he showed Ryan the list he'd been reading off. "Every time you plan revenge on Bryan it appears on the list as a potential. I dont think this is going to work out the way I hoped".
Ryan did his best to try and hide the smug satisfaction he was feeling. At least this the old fat man knew he'd been beat, and would take him home.
"But I can't let you go. I didn't help Bryan before, but I can help him now. You've been a great sniffer for me tonight. I've not smelt any of those farts. Not holding them in means for the first time in decades I'm not feeling all bloated, makes it much easier to get down those chimneys. No, I'm sorry. But if I can't let you go for risk you'll hurt the innocent, you'll have to stay with me. My naughty little fart sniffer. Maybe in time poems will be written, songs sung and books wrote that tell the cautionary tale of what happens to the naughty children if they don't learn to be good before they grow up"
Ryan couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"You'll come to the North Pole with me now, I'll use my time magic to freeze you until the next Christmas, and we'll go again. Maybe one day you'll learn the lesson, I guess that's up to you".
With another sigh, Santa slid back over Ryan's face. Covering it one more time. Letting out the odd fart, only this time Santa didn't bother to read from his crime list, it wasn't needed now. He was just here to sniff farts.
Santa stopped projecting his voice to Ryan, leaving him to the rattling of the sleigh and constant echoing of his farts. Taking the reigns he urged on the reindeer.
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!...AND SNIFFER!"
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aesthetixhoe · 2 years ago
Text
paparazzi — J.C.
warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of anxiety/self worth issues,
word count: ---
pronouns used: none!
request: can u write where like us and jack are out like at the mall abd fans come up to us asking for photos and all that? (were also a actor/actress. idk is this made sense to u😭)
authors note: I added a bit of other stuff into this, so sorry if this isn't what you wanted. i love this idea deeply! <3
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Being an actor and going to the mall was... Stressful. You never knew if you would be recognized, so you always had to wear presentable clothing, plus you didn't know if the people who would recognize would even like you.
The mall was no exception. With the endless stores filled with fellow teenagers and young adults who knew both you and Jack, there was bound to be at least one person who knew you.
Going out with Jack was easier than being alone. He's always there to tell you that no matter who you see, or how they feel about you, you still have fans that love you... Including him. He'll hold your hand, and tell you to squeeze it if you get anxious, give you more small kisses than usual (which is already a lot). The PDA worries you further, thinking that if someone who likes him more sees you two kissing that they'll post about it and try cancelling you or something, but the love is worth it.
You came to the mall to go shopping, you needed some more casual clothes, and Jack needed some higher end items for a premier. Walking into the mall was thankfully uneventful, but once you got further into the populace of the mall, that's when the pictures started.
It wasn't paparazzi standing right inside waiting to run you down but to get pictures, but there were teenage girls who found Jack attractive. While you were also an actor, and have also been in popular things, you weren't a hot boy...
“Oh my god! You're Jack Champion. Holy shit, can we get a picture with you?!” And so it started. He obviously said yes and you moved to the side, not before he kissed your hand though. He wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulder, smiling big for her friend with the camera. They switched so the previous camera girl could get in on it. They thanked him before walking past, both still bright red, slightly shaky and whispering about how cute he was. You had to agree.
About every 30 feet was another person asking for a picture, or autograph. He would stop and gladly do whatever pose they asked for, or sign whatever they wanted. He loved all of his fans, and was willing to do anything for them.
After splitting up and going to your designated stores to buy the items you needed, you two found each other.
The walk to leave was mostly uninterrupted, just a few people recognizing you two and taking pictures. “Looks like we have some paparazzi huh?” Jack jokes, smiling at you. God he's so pretty.
“Yeah...” You say in mindless agreement. You were too busy looking at his smile and the way it made his eye squint slightly.
“Stop staring.” He says as he blushes and looks away. He loves your attention, but it doesn't stop him from blushing every time.
Once you two were home you spent time scrolling through Instagram, looking at the posts jack was tagged in, seeing all the pictures fans had taken with him.
Then... There was a picture of you.
It was a “news” Instagram account that posted celebrity sightings.
“Ah, I see you've found the stalker photos...” Jack chuckles as he approaches the back of the couch. He puts his chin on your shoulder watching as you scroll through the pictures.
“Yeah. I'm actually... Kinda flattered?” You almost ask. He hops over the back of the couch to join you in sitting. He looks at you questioningly.
“What do you mean?” He asks quietly. You hated having candids taken, they ‘always looked bad.’
You look at him before looking down embarrassed. “Well... Normally it's just pictures of you. And I hate photos, you know that, but... It feels nice to be recognized. I just feel like an accessory to you sometimes...” You admit softly.
He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. Once you make eye contact, both of his hands settle on either of your cheeks to keep your head steady.
“[Y/n], you'll never be an accessory. You're your own person. You're an amazing actor, and an even better person.” He states into your eyes, and you can feel something. Something warm deep inside of your stomach. Something in your chest, like you'd just drank a hot drink on a cold day that warmed up your insides.
“I love you.” You breathe out, thoughtlessly. Thoughtlessly.
Your eyes widen in shock as your mouth falls agape. You actually said it... Holy shit. He's silent. Oh fuck. Oh god. This was such a mistake.
“Jack, I am so sorry. I-I wasn't thinking and it just fell out and I know we haven't said it yet, and I don't want you to feel obligated to say it back but I just-”
“I love you too.” He smiles softly, leaning in to kiss your lips. It felt like the stars aligned and the earth stopped spinning and time stopped and everything else people use to describe being in love.
You pull away, looking into his eyes, tears welling in yours. “Are you ok? Should I not have said it?” He asks, brows furrowed in worry.
“No!” You exclaim grinning, then reaching your fingers to the nape of his neck, “I'm just so in love with you.”
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