#so i made Carmen a second father like figure

[feralacidsugar]

made a Carmen Sandiego oc! mostly made because i wanted to join in on the fun with my gf

Cowboy who is also a thief and also a bit of a softie no mask under the keep reading

[astermath]

sweet like you🍓

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: carmen stumbles across a local farmer’s market on accident and discovers a family run strawberry stand. he discovers that not only the strawberries are delicious and sweet, but so is the girl selling them to him.

word count: 2.1K

notes: yk what’s really funny,, i never realised so far a lot of my fics involve the color red. perhaps it’s becoming my new favorite color and I love to make it obvious dsgdfsj,, anyways first time writing for carmen, been obsessed w him since the bear came out. i’m a whore for jeremy allen white in case you haven’t noticed. anyways this will def get a part two!!

P.S. let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, requests are open!

Saturday was farmer’s market day.

Every Saturday morning, dozens of independent businesses, farmers and food stands would come together at Lincoln Park to sell their wares. It made for a colorful and interesting blend of smells, sounds and sights, and for most, a great way to start off their weekend.

And Carmen was no exception to this. He’d first stumbled upon it by accident on his way to the Beef. Taking a wrong turn because of his still waking morning head resulted in him walking through the park and, unavoidably, being distracted by what vendors there were. A chef at heart, he couldn’t help but look around the wide array of fresh ingredients available for purchase. He’d taken out his notebook and started writing down business names as he tried a sample every now and then. 

He held a bag of fresh paprikas in one hand, making his way down the line before he came across a peculiar and seemingly very busy stand. The fresh, sweet scent of strawberries allured him, stepping closer to take a look at what they had to offer. And it was exactly that, just strawberries. It appeared to be a family business, your mother and father packing orders, and you at the front taking them and accepting payments. For a second he just kind of stood there, bag in hand, staring at you. There was no way you were from here, Chicago doesn’t let a smile like that survive very long. Or maybe that was just his cynical mind doing its usual thing.

He snapped out of it when you glanced his way, looking to the side. He felt his cheeks getting warmer, embarrassed that just looking at a pretty girl got such a reaction from him. He’s a collected person, he should be acting like one. He took a deep breath and got in line. Lord knows what he’d be using strawberries for, he’d figure something out, might as well just eat them as a snack while the season allowed it.

“Hi! How many?” Your voice was sweet and chipper, something he couldn’t even think of being after taking orders all morning. Somehow, you kept it up.

“Oh, uh...” He looked at your display, before remembering that all you sold were strawberries, so browsing just made him look even more stupid. “How many... Strawberries?”

“Boxes. They’re 500 grams, 5 bucks each. So how many?” Your smile remained the same, though you were slightly amused by his confusion. 

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He could have sank into the ground right then and there. Of course you meant boxes, who in their right mind is buying individual strawberries? “Uh... Just one box is fine, please.” He reached for his wallet while you took over a box from your mom.

“Great! That’ll be 5 dollars please.” You took the slightly crumpled bill from his hand, storing it in the tin box in front of you and quickly writing down something on a paper. Seemed like you still did everything by hand, he couldn’t imagine what a mess it would be if he had to do that at the restaurant.

“Here you go, have a great day!” The box you gave him was neatly wrapped in brown paper, with a sticker serving as a business card on top. 

“Uh...” He stared at the sticker, reading over it before looking back up at you.

Ask for her name.

“Yeah...”

Her name.

“You too.” 

You idiot.

He picked up the box and walked away, walking a little faster than usual. He was never good at talking to people, but god, that was just embarrassing. He opened up the packaging, and took out a perfectly plump strawberry. He took a bite, humming as the juicy sweetness washed over his tastebuds.

Lunch rush had just ended, and Carmen was sat outside the back of the restaurant with Richie, smoking as per usual. Except now, a small cardboard box sat between them. It was almost empty as the two of them snacked on the fruit between puffs of their cigarettes. 

“Ya know, I read somewhere on Facebook that these are supposed to help with uh... Cancer or something.” Richie said, throwing the green leafy part back into the box. 

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, cousin.” Carmy smiled to himself, back leaned against the wall as he brought the cigarette to his lips.

“Oh, why’s that huh? Cause I can’t read shit online anymore without having to do an hour of research behind it?” Richie furrowed his brows, blowing smoke out his nose.

“No, stupid,” Carmen put the cigarette out on the concrete. “Cause you’re fuckin’ smoking, man. The fuck is a strawberry gonna do against that.”

“Yeah, well... I try to stay positive, you should fucking try it sometime, ya depressed asshole.” He grabbed another strawberry. “Where d’you get these from anyways? Shit’s pretty good.”

The image of you working at the stand flashed through his mind. “Passed by some random farmer’s market this morning. Might stop by there again, got a ton of fresh produce there for not much money.”

“Speakin’ of produce.” Richie used his thumb to point back over his shoulder to the kitchen. “Place’s out of onions. Your magical farmer’s market got those? Cause we need more by the dinner shift.”

Carmen groaned, wanting to curse at Richie for not letting him know earlier. But honestly, if it gave him a chance to go back, get more delicious strawberries and possibly redeem his awkward first impression to the pretty girl there... It might not be a bad idea. He checked the time on his watch, early afternoon, you’d probably be wrapping up right now. If he was fast, he could totally still make it. “Fine, but I’m taking your car.”

“Don’t crash it.” Richie said as he got up, ready to get back inside.

“You’re the one with a suspended license.” He joked, catching the keys Richie threw at him that were totally not aimed at his head.

“Fuck you cousin.”

Parking was a bitch, as always, but Carmen had managed to find a stall selling onions for about half of what he usually got them for. He was starting to like this market, not just for the prices, but because these were all people who worked hard and loved their products. A lot of work goes into putting something out there to sell, he would know. 

He realized he might be pushing his luck if he still wanted to see you, but he decided to take the chance nonetheless and walk down the lineup. It seemed to be his lucky day, as he caught sight of your parents loading up mostly empty boxes back in the car. You were working on breaking down the stand, doing so with relative ease. You were currently folding up the tables, kneeled down onto the ground. 

Again, he stared. Honestly, how could he not? It wasn’t every day he saw someone so beautiful, and with a sweet personality to match. Granted his only interaction with you had been brief, but still, he got a good vibe from you, and he was usually so distrustful.

You looked up, and by pure coincidence, your eyes met. His eyes were so intense, hues of blue that anyone would recognize, even from a mile away. You certainly recognized them from this morning at least. Your face brightened with the same smile he saw you had before, and for a second he wondered if it was just a customer service thing. 

“Hi! Hope you enjoyed your strawberries!” You got up, holding the folded table under your arm. 

“Sure did.” He put on a bit of an awkward smile. God, why was he doing this... What was he even supposed to say?

Your eyes squinted slightly when you read the words on his shirt. “Nice shirt... Oh, wait, you work at the Beef?”

His body tenses up a little when you mention the restaurant. Given its... Peculiar reputation, that question could be followed up by any kind of statement. “Yeah, yeah, I uh... I kinda run it now.” He decided not to mention Mikey. Seemed a bit overkill to mention your dead brother to someone whose name you don’t even know.

“Ohhh, that’s you! Yeah, I’ve seen you smoking outside before.” You extend your hand and you both introduce yourselves. “I work at a café just two blocks over. You might have seen it, it’s called Odette’s?” 

Carmy nodded. He knew that place. He also knew the cranky old French lady who owned it. “Ah... Yeah. Menu still the same?”

“As long as Odette is still alive, I doubt she’ll ever let me change anything. ‘Over my dead body, cherie’”. You jokingly imitated her French accent, chuckling to yourself.

Carmen smiled, glad that he’s at least not making a complete fool out of himself now. This was good, he knew this, work and food, those were his safe topics. “Yeah, well... Maybe if she tasted one of these strawberries first, you might convince her.” 

“Huh,” You thought to yourself for a second, imagining your usual grumpy boss overflowing with glee after trying the fruit from your family’s farm. “You know what, I’ve never actually thought of that. Maybe I’ll try it out!” You smile. “You know I’ve been meaning to try and serve some of my pastries there. I’m a huge baking fanatic, but she’s so... Set in her ways. I don’t know if my amateur baking skills could possibly convince her, no matter how tasty the strawberries I use are.”

“Yeah, I know what that’s like...” Carmen thought about his crew, and how much they loved their so called ‘system’. Change was good, change meant progress, but it was also scary. On that part, he didn’t blame her boss for refusing to switch things up. “If you want, I could help you out. I’m a full time chef, so... Always willing to taste test.” He hoped his poorly masked excuse to stay in touch came across as friendly, and not pushy. He always felt like he was overthinking everything when he was trying to socialize, like he was reading off some type of script. Your chipper personality made things a tad easier, at least. 

“Really?” You seem to brighten up even more. Carmen is sure there’s light shining from your face from how excited you look, but he doesn’t mind. It’s amusing, almost... Cute.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. Just uh... Let me know when.” He puts his hands in his pockets.

“Of course!” You pause, realizing he’s probably expecting you to give him some kind of contact information. Unless he was planning to use telepathic communication. You put down the folded table. “Right, sorry, uh...” You laughed awkwardly and pulled out a pen and an old receipt from your back pocket to scribble your number on, before handing it to him. “There we go!” 

Carmen’s eyes went over the number, putting it in his wallet so he wouldn’t forget to save it later. “Cool, cool... So uh, text you later.” He silently cringed at his own words, trying painfully hard to play it cool. 

“Yeah, totally!” Your mom called your name, and you look over your shoulder, seeing her gesture to you to hurry up. “Be right there, mama!” You chuckled. “Sorry, duty calls! But yeah, I’ll hear from you. And if I don’t, I know where you work, Berzatto.” 

He chuckles slightly at your joking threat. “Sure, I’ll hold you to that.” He gives you a curt wave before walking off and letting you go back to work. 

He really hoped you didn’t mean that “threat”. He’d rather die than let you see him at the Beef right when they got such a bad hygiene rating. 

He was laid down on the couch late at night, watching an episode on the food network about an olive farm in Italy. He wondered if your family’s farm was anything like this one, and remembered he hadn’t even saved your number or texted you yet. Carmen rubbed his sleepy eyes and pulled out his phone, saving your number under a new contact and typing out a few quick texts. He stared at the screen for a few seconds, realized he was overthinking it and fell asleep not long after, the sound of an elderly Italian woman speaking on TV in the background.

[unknown]: hey, it’s carmen

[unknown]: guy from the beef

[unknown]: next thursday work for you?

You groaned in your bed, looking over at your phone and cursing yourself for forgetting to turn off your notifications. “The fuck...” Your eyes squinted at the brightness of the screen. A sleepy smile adorned your face when you read his name, saving his contact and texting something back quickly before putting the phone away and going back to sleep.

[y/n]: for sure!

[y/n]: let’s do 4:30 PM? café closes at 4 anyways so we’ll have the kitchen to ourselves :)))

[robin-evry]

Ruby/yuu from how to get my husband on my side

Sure thing, I'm sorry if it's short because due to my lack of knowledge of the manhwa as well as the character, I based it from research of the characters personality so sorry if it's not accurate...

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐘!𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 🌼🌻

Rudbeckia de Borgia (루드베키아 데 보르히하, Rudeubekia de Boreuhiha) is the protagonist of How to Win My husband Over. She is the adoptive daughter of Pope de Borgia and the adoptive younger sister of Cezar de Borgia and Enzo de Borgia. Her biological mother, Carmen, was the Pope's second mistress. Rudbeckia is the wife of Iske van Omerta, the daughter-in-law of the Duke and Duchess Omerta, and the sister-in-law of Ellenia van Omerta.

Ruby!Yuu is soft-spoken and keeps a poised exterior, with their every word carefully chosen. They're polite to a fault, making even rude comments sound charming. However, they hide a deep loneliness and a yearning for connection beneath their composed surface.

While they appear delicate, Ruby!Yuu has an unwavering inner strength, born from the hardships they’ve endured. They rarely express anger openly, but when pushed too far, they reveal a surprisingly sharp tongue and a fierce loyalty to their friends.

Ruby!Yuu possessed a warm heart and often tends to the hurt and broken with gentle care. They have a knack for finding people in need of help, and sometimes, without words, they simply stay by someone’s side to offer comfort.

They're sense of justice and compassion is unwavering. They stand up for the downtrodden, even if it means risking their own safety. Despite their gentle nature, they can be fierce when it comes to protecting the people they care about.

Ruby!Yuu finds comfort in tending to plants and flowers, often visiting the botanical gardens or Ramshackle's garden in their free time. They see beauty in resilience, admiring flowers that bloom despite adversity, reflecting their own journey. They keep a personal journal full of resources and information on flowers It works as well as a diary.

Their wardrobe reflects a classic elegance with muted colors, lace, and embroidered details, looking both noble and understated. They prefer clothes that don’t attract too much attention but still carry a quiet grace.

Jade and ruby!yuu have an interesting relationship, both of them have a love for plants and are willing to listen to the other info dump about their passion, jade yapped about mushrooms meanwhile ruby!yuu yaps about flowers. It's a win-win situation

Have tea parties with riddle where they have formal conversation as well discussing topics latest towards the world as well in school. Riddle like rub!yuu kind a gentle demeanor in contrast the Adeuce and grim behavior

While Vil may view Ruby!Yuu with a sense of rivalry due to their grace, Ruby!Yuu admires him without resentment. They exchange subtle compliments, with Vil secretly appreciating their humility, and Ruby!Yuu respects his commitment to perfection. They also may share some fashion advice to the other party

Ruby!Yuu’s magic centers around defense, with spells that create shimmering, flower-like shields. These barriers are as beautiful as they are strong, made of translucent layers resembling petals that protect themselves and their friends with a delicate but unbreakable power.

Once Crowley ask ruby!yuu to accompany him to RSA to meet the headmaster there and during that time many princes or students have approached with the intention of getting to know them. This of course causes Crowley into a frenzy and quickly ends the meeting due to how many of the students are making ruby!yuu uncomfortable.

Crowley has become like a father figure towards them, even tho he may be a scum or an asshole, but he does grow to care for ruby!yuu like his own child

[bubblegumflavor]

Johnny Lawrence is a character that is always pushed down. Him being physically stronger than Daniel doesn't help his mind being constantly challenged. He enters the Karate Kid with his mind strong, with the will to make it better, to make it work. Yeah he beats up Daniel a lot and worse than excusable, but he just wanted to talk to Ali and Ali is pretty mean to him, promising she will talk but then just plays the music again... Daniel sucker punches him first. Daniel humiliates him at the Halloween party and yeah, they beat Daniel up but Mr. Miyagi.. an adult.. breaking a teenager's arm? (Tommy) instead of acting like an adult and de-escalate the situation? Well..

While Daniel is provoking Johnny constantly, Johnny leaves Daniel alone until the tournament, where he again, gets manipulated, humiliated, loses his father figure, gets robbed of his chance to win fairly, still has the courage to get up and give Daniel the trophy, saying he's alright which is an apology, I don't care what other people say. Then outside him getting beaten and humiliated continues with Kreese almost killing him for ending up second place.

And in Cobra Kai it continues... I mean it's also funny and entertaining but it also hurts me to think about how often Johnny is forced to take charity from Daniel, how he can't stop drinking, how everything is always his fault, how he just feels worth of Carmen's affection after performing miracles for her, how he wanted Ali but Amanda says hahah not on my watch, remember Carmen and he's like oh yeah... right then I must love Carmen, I figured it out! (But it was Amanda actually... lol)

I was just watching season 1 again and especially that scene where Johnny is literally on the ground to get his beer and Daniel shows off his dominance because he has the money, it hurts. I wish we had seen Johnny not taking the beer because Daniel paid it or something. Just walking out. Let the man have some dignity!! (I could go on forever I really feel like it got worse in the show to the point where his whole purpose is to fulfill Carmen's dreams but I am rewatching atm and see if I just made it worse in my head, I at least was able to enjoy season 1 again and thats a personal win since I wasn't able to rewatch after s5)

Johnny paying back Sid and finally cut him out of his life is so satisfying to watch, I'm so glad they did that.

I know he has some wins too like I feel equally sad for Daniel when Cobra Kai overpowers his Miyagi-Do presentation and Daniel was so excited for it.. I love watching them get back at each other and all just some nuances leave a bad taste in my mouth when I'm overthinking it.

I love Johnny so much.. He is my comfort character and thinking about all of this hurts me physically. So I try not to. A lot of this in Cobra Kai was done for comic relief and gave us hilarious moments and if I don't think too much about it I can enjoy them all but I, personally, will never enjoy content where Johnny is portrayed as weaker as Daniel or submissive to Daniel or anyone else. (Which doesn't mean he can't have weak moments and Daniel be the one comforting him, that is sth different and I love that!) (I don't enjoy Daniel being 'babygirled' either but that's a different story, lol)

Just some thoughts I needed to get out of my system with my sunday morning coffee =)

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Runaway - Chapter Nine.

Happy Friday, besties! Awww, it makes me so happy to see you all enjoying this, it really does. I love to create something that gets people talking, and thank you so much for investing in it :) If you want to go slower with the notes over the weekend to get to 30 then go for it, completely up to you, as ever :) Now, back to the story. You all get to meet Manny’s grandpa. Something tells me you’re going to like Ed... 

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,288

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“You fucking what?”

Oh yes. There went the sound barrier. And his eardrums.  

“Baby, I’m so sorry. This is a shock, I know it is, I know,” he began, his fiancée amping up to irate within a blink.

“How could you do this to me!”

“It happened before I met you, Carmen,” he revealed, attempting to placate her.

“And how do you know she’s yours, huh? This bitch could be just passing her off as yours, could have had any number of dicks all up in her and she’s trying to pin it on you!” His eyebrows knitted at that.

“Hannah isn’t a bitch. She’s a nice girl who I ended up having a one-night stand with. Trust me, I believe her when she says she knows I’m the father. The only other guy it could have been didn’t match on a paternity test. Plus, you ain’t seen the kid. She’s my double. Ain’t no doubt over her parentage, mi dulce. She’s mine.”

“And so, what now? What does this mean, going forward? She sticking you for child support, huh?” Money. Of course, that would be at the forefront of her mind. It always was. “We have a wedding to pay for, you know!”  

Manny took a breath, opening the fridge and pulling a beer out, twisting the cap off before swinging the door shut and leaning back against it. “She didn’t mention anything about child support, but I will be contributing. Ain’t no question there. That don’t mean you go without anything, though. I make good bank, you know that.”  

Despite the fact she was being selfish and thinking of herself first in all of this, Manny was, as ever, understanding, selfless as he was. At that moment, Carmen was of course tits deep in the world according to bride, not wanting anything to get in the way of her special day. He wouldn’t let it either, he loved her, after all. At the same time, though, he would not welch on a commitment to his own blood.  

“I’m going for a bath.” She tore a path through the kitchen, out towards the bathroom, the door slamming shut. He couldn’t help but note that she hadn’t even asked him, not once, how he was coping with the news. It was all about how it affected her.  

‘I’m mindful of what I just dropped on you, and it matters to me, that you’re alright with it.’

Hannah’s concern came back to him immediately, wanting to make sure he was okay after her life changing revelation. The difference was not lost on him. He sighed, pulling his phone out, scrolling through to the pictures he’d taken, pictures of his baby, ones Hannah had taken of him holding her, too, smiling widely. Oh, she was so beautiful, such a precious little thing.  

“As if I made something as fucking perfect as you, Lola Lydia Gray,” he beamed, his thumb stroking her image. “Shit, I’m a dad. I’m someone’s dad.”  

It was there that his thoughts went to his own father, Manny’s mouth thinning as he moved to go and sit down in the lounge. Manuel Santiago Snr had walked out on him, his mother and two sisters when he was five, the family moving back to his mother’s home of La Paz County, Arizona, to live with a considerably better father figure; his grandfather, Ed.  

Edward Ellison was a formidable force, half Apache, half white, and one hundred percent no nonsense. A rancher all his life, working fourteen hours a day, come rain or shine, producing some of the best, if not the best beef cattle in Arizona, breeding horses as well as a lucrative second income. A tough life for a tough man. He had perhaps the kindest heart Manny had ever encountered for his family and friends, but still, there was no doubting his mettle.  

He sat and remembered the first time he’d ever put him on a horse as a six-year-old kid. Not a pony, oh no. A fully grown quarter horse. ‘The boy needs to learn if he’s gon’ drive cattle in’ he’d explained, when his mom had pitched somewhat of a fit about seeing her little boy sitting up on a huge steed led by her father, Manny’s feet barely reaching the bottom of the saddle flaps. He had got him something a little more suitable once he did learn, though, a little dappled grey horse of just over fourteen hands in height named Chester.

Driving cattle was exactly what Manny had done, too, until he was twenty-four, spending eight years working the same hard job. It was rewarding, but he couldn’t continue, meeting a girl who lived over in Yuma and leaving to join her down there. His relationship with Corrine hadn’t lasted, but the outlaw life he’d fallen into had.  

She’d been the daughter of one of the members of the Yuma charter of the MC, hence how he got involved in it all in the first place. He missed the ranch sometimes, but definitely not the 4am starts of a morning. Thinking of his grandpa, Manny knew he was the first person he wanted to reveal the news to.  

“Hey mijo, hold on. He’s in the kitchen, doing something to the coffee machine,” his grandmother, Rosita spoke, the words ‘I’m trying to fix the godforsaken thing, Rosie!’ muttered from his grandpa, Ed taking the phone.

“You’re calling late.”

Manny checked the time on his phone. “It’s 8:06pm, gramps.”

“That’s late for me, you know I go to bed at eight thirty.” It was true, he did. In bed by eight thirty and out of it by 4am, even still at seventy-one years old.  

He couldn’t help but be smart. “Well then we have just over twenty minutes, don’t we?”  

“Fucking kids and their sass,” Ed muttered, Manny laughing. “So, how are you?”

“I’m great, gramps, really good. I had some news today, and you’re the first person I wanted to tell. I’m a dad.”

Ed stood much taller than his 6ft 2 height at hearing that, a smile lighting up his still handsome features. “You and Carmen ain’t wasting any time, huh? Congratulations, son. When’s she due?”

“Um, that’s the thing. Baby is here already, twelve weeks old, and not Carmen’s.” He waited for it; the no doubt comically delivered reaction.

“You been philandering in some other woman’s honey pot, boy?” He didn’t disappoint, his grandson hissing softly with laughter.

“Yep, but this was before I met Carmen,” he explained, Ed snorting.

“You were cutting that finer than a flea’s nut sack hair!”

Manny was in hysterics at his words, sipping his beer. “I met her two months after I was with Hannah, that’s my baby mama, by the way. Well, I wasn’t really with her, more of a one-night thing.”

Ed sighed, coughing as he let himself out of the back door, looking out over his vast property as he sat down in the porch chair. “Still no fan of condoms, then?”

“Nope,” Manny confessed, knowing it was bad. HPV had made him finally learn his lesson, though.  

“Cesspool,” Ed grunted. “I’m surprised your dick ain’t dropped off yet.” He rummaged in his pocket, taking out one of his slim cigars and lighting up. “So, what kind is my first great grandbaby? Pink or blue?” His comment sparked a memory of the time his grandmother had bought him a new shirt, one he’d refused to wear in his stubbornness, all because it had a trace of dark pink in the plaid, Manny laughing softly through his nose at how rigid his grandpa could be over such simple things as colours.

“Pink, her name’s Lola,” Manny revealed proudly. “Hold on, I’ll send you a picture.”

“Alright, I’ll put you on the speaker phone so I can talk and look.” Manny accessed his pictures on a message, clicking a few and sending them through. A few seconds passed before Ed’s phone pinged, and then a couple more before he spoke again. “Aw, hell. Would you look at that little face. She’s a peach, boy. Damn, she looks the double of your mama when she was a baby. When you bringing her here so granny and I can meet her?”

“I dunno. I only found out today, so let me settle into a routine of things with Hannah first and I’ll see.”

Ed made a ‘umhm’ noise, taking a drag on his cigar. “You told your mama yet?”

“Nah, I’m working up to that. I kinda guess she’s gon’ scream at me.” Truly an understatement if ever there was one.  

“Well, of course she will. She inherited her mother’s lungs, if nothing else. How about Carmen, is she good about it all?”

Manny sniffed, finishing his beer, rising from the couch to go and fetch another. “Not really, but I’m guessing she needs time to get used to the idea.”

“Hmm.” Ed’s tone was non-comital, choosing not to voice the truth that he wasn’t surprised at all. He didn’t care for Carmen one bit. ‘That girl, she’s bougee and self-centred. Ain’t what he needs’ he’d said to his darling Rosita after meeting her for the first time. “Yeah, I guess she’ll come round to it, eventually.” Instead of being his usual, mildly abrasive, truth spewing self, he chose diplomacy. His grandson had enough to think about, without him throwing in his two cents.  

Manny said he’d call again soon, Ed telling him he’d relay the news to his grandma before getting off, leaving him to make the phone call he was carrying a certain amount of mild dread over.  

“You fathered a child with a woman who isn’t the one you’re marrying? For the love of god, Manuel! How could you be so reckless? Poor Carmen! This must be breaking her heart, and who is this woman you got pregnant in the first place? Is she an ex-girlfriend? Please don’t tell me it’s that little whore from the dry cleaners, I couldn’t stand her and...”

“Mom, breathe,” he interjected with.

“It’s her, isn’t it? It’s that girl! Oh my god, I need a drink! I mean, did I not always tell you to fucking use contraception? You’re thirty-nine, for heaven’s sake, and...”

“Mom, I’m sending you a picture.”  

“...I’d like to think that you’re at the age where you’d kno-OH MY GOD! She’s so beautiful!”  

He knew that would shut her up.  

“Ain’t she? Her name’s Lola, and no, she isn’t Esther’s. Her mom is a girl named Hannah, she’s really nice, you’ll like her,” he explained, hearing his mother virtually whimpering with joy on the other end of the line.  

“How old is she?”

“What, Hannah or bubs?”

Val sighed audibly. “The baby! As long as this Hannah girl is over eighteen then It's all good.”

“Oh yeah, well over. She’s fifty-two.”

“Manny!”  

He laughed hard, never able to resist winding the key in his mother’s back and watching her go. “I’m just playing, calm down! She’s twelve weeks, well, a little under actually. And Hannah is thirty-eight.”

“So, when can I meet her?”

He told her the same thing he had his grandpa, his mom understanding and asking him to please send more photographs in the meantime. They chatted a little more before ending the call, just as Carmen was exiting the bathroom, swathed in towels and still looking sour. “You have a nice bath, mamas?”

No reply.  

“Baby, come on. Can we just sit down and talk about this calmly?” he tried with again.

“Fuck you!” 

He winced at her ire, shaking his head as the lounge door slammed shut, picking up the remote and turning the TV on, wishing he wasn’t already four beers in so he could head back to the clubhouse and hang out. He’d come home early at Carmen’s request so he could spend some time with her, but now that idea was shot to shit entirely. He got it, why she was mad, but he couldn’t help it. A baby didn’t come with a return to sender option. Besides, he wouldn’t want her to. He was thrilled at becoming a father; he just hoped his fiancée would land on the same page sooner rather than later.  

It was a few days before she seemed to settle a little more, but he knew she was still pretty sour over the whole thing.  

“Hey yo, come look at this,” he called to Lily and Jodie a few days later, he and Carmen hanging out at the clubhouse, Angel and EZ’s wives approaching to look at the picture he showed them.  

“Awwwww! Look her smile!” Jodie gushed, bouncing on the spot, grasping her hands to her own heavily pregnant belly, Lily reading the message that accompanied it.  

“Hey daddy, look how happy I am that I just spit up all over the seventh romper mommy put me in today. Can’t wait to see you on Friday and puke all over you, too! Love Lola. Oh, that’s so sweet!”

“I know, right? She always sends a little message like it’s from the baby. Imma ruin my street cred thinking that shit is adorable, but I don’t give a fuck,” he laughed.

“You shouldn’t! She’s your first born, it’s an exciting time for you,” Jodie enthused, rubbing his arm affectionately. Carmen was within earshot, snorting and throwing herself down from the barstool, stomping out of the clubhouse. “Something I said?”

“Naw, baby girl. She’s just having a time of it, adjusting to the fact.” he replied, Jodie nodding sagely. She’d expected as much, but what Manny didn’t expect was to get blasted about it as soon as they walked through the front door upon their arrival home a few hours on.  

Carmen, it seemed, was not done being pissed off about it just yet.  

[marvel1012]

Sins of the Father - Pt. 3 "Sam"

Synopsis: AU 3rd season episode of The Bear. Carm makes a startling discovery, and must navigate the fallout.

Warnings: cursing, mostly

Word count: 3,170

Author's note: The epic conclusion to our saga! Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2

________________________________

It took Carm a week to put together a list of halfway houses in the greater Chicago area, and the better part of another week going building to building, looking for Sam. On his third try, he noticed the name “S. Morris” on the directory outside the door. Number 302. 

“No time like the present,” he whispered under his breath, and rang the buzzer. 

“Whaddya want?” His biological father’s tinny sounding voice coming through the ancient speaker. 

“It’s Carmen. I wanna talk.” 

Silence. Nothing happened. A breath, two breaths. Then, the sound of the door to the building buzzing. He quickly grabbed the handle and swung it open, stepping into the foyer. The room was illuminated by a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, and the dingy tile looked every bit as old as the intercom outside. One whole wall was composed of numbered mailboxes, and looking ahead, through a second door, he saw the stairwell. 

Of course he’d be in some shitty walk-up. 

Carm started the climb up to the third floor. By the time he reached the top of the third flight of stairs, his heart was pounding. Maybe he’d been skipping out on the gym a little too much lately. Apartment number 302 was the first door on the left from the top of the stairs. He knocked, and the door swung open a moment later. Sam didn’t say anything, just beckoned him inside. 

Carmen followed Sam into the shabby studio apartment, passing a tiny kitchenette to their right as they made their way to the combo living and sleeping area. When they got to the end of the short hallway and emerged into the open space, two things struck him simultaneously– the place was mostly empty, practically devoid of furniture and personal items, but the walls were covered with some of the most breathtaking still-life drawings he’d ever seen. He actually gasped as he took them all in. There were a few figures, mostly bare backs and disembodied hand studies, but what really grabbed his attention were the more traditional pieces. Over by the window, shiny fruit spilling out of a bowl onto a table, and there, a vase filled with exquisite flowers, their petals so detailed they seemed like they could pop right off the page. 

Sam realized he had stopped in the doorway, so he turned. He followed Carm’s gaze to the walls and nodded, “Oh, yeah. Those. I used to doodle a lot as a kid, but I picked this up while I was away. The prison library actually had a book about drawing fruit and shit like that, if you can believe it. I think it kept me from goin’ crazy,” he smirked and shook his head, “well, crazier.” 

Carmen was at a loss for words. All his life, he’d wondered where his talent for art had come from. Growing up, Donna had yelled at him for spending his time in class drawing instead of taking notes. Mikey and Richie had teased him mercilessly about his clothing sketches. Nat had liked to look at his drawings, but the best she could ever manage were stick figures with circles for heads and birds in flight that looked like stretched out M’s. Now a long held, secret hunch had been proven right in the most shocking and unexpected way. He’d always wanted to believe that he’d inherited his artistic gifts from Jerry. Now he knew the talent had come from his father, just not the one he thought.  

Carmen realized Sam was watching him, waiting for some kind of response. He pressed two fingers to his lips and nodded, “I draw some, too. Your stuff is good.” 

The corner of Sam’s mouth twitched up in a smirk at the complement. He walked over to a cheap black futon pushed into a corner against the far wall. Apparently he had been using an overturned plastic milk crate as an end table and nightstand– he quickly cleared off the top and moved it out into the middle of the room, then he settled onto the futon and indicated that Carm should have a seat on the crate across from him. “Have a seat.” 

Carmy did as he was told. The sharp plastic on the bottom of the crate pressed through the fabric of his pants and into his skin as he settled onto it. His nerves were jangling and tight, and he couldn’t help but bounce his right foot rhythmically against the side of the crate. He slid a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, craving a smoke to clear his mind, but before he could get the cig to his mouth, Sam shook his head. “You can’t smoke in here, there are rules.” 

Carm sighed and returned the cigarette to the pack, stuck the pack back into his pocket. Now what? “I, ah, did what you said.” 

“What’s that?” 

“I went to see my mom. I asked her about you.” 

Sam’s eyebrows flashed. “Oh, yeah? She give you an earful?” 

“Guess you could say that.” He bit his lip, peeling a little bit of chapped skin off with his teeth, not really sure how to proceed. “She, ah, said you guys had a one night stand, and that’s how, well, I mean,” he trailed off, visibly uncomfortable at the implication. 

Sam was staring intently, enjoying watching Carm squirm. A cold grin spread across his face. “That’s what she said, huh?” He sucked his teeth, laced his fingers around the back of his head and leaned into the futon, stretching out fully and crossing his ankles in front of him.

“Did you believe her?” 

“Huh?” 

“Don. Did you believe her story? About me?” 

Carmen pursed his lips. He didn’t like the sound of his mom’s nickname coming out of this stranger’s mouth. He decided to let it go, this time. “Maybe some of it? But not really.” 

Sam nodded, still smiling. “So you came to me. You wanna know what really happened.” 

This jagoff is having the time of his life. What a sick fuck.

Carm shrugged, “Sure.” Who else could I ask? 

The older man sniffed and shrugged back. “Alright, here’s the deal. Jerry and I worked together for a while, before he opened the restaurant but right after he, Jimmy, and Lee started the KBL front,” he chuckled, “talk about the three stooges, amiright?”

Carm just stared, nonplussed. 

“So, ah, anyways, your mom helped out in the office sometimes, doin’ billin’ and shit, I dunno. I didn’t really care, all I remember is she had cans like you would not believe. And those skirts she would wear, with the panty hose? That little black line up the back of her calf? Jeeezus fuckin’--” 

“Hey! I get it. I get it, alright? That’s my mom.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Well, let’s just say she knew what she was doin’. We were together for months before you came along. Jerry made it sooo fuckin’ easy, too. He was always runnin’ from job to job, tryin’ to look legit while he was screwin’ around with those other two assholes, playin’ at bein’ gangsters. Ha! Ain’t that some shit. Fuckin’ Jimmy is Polish.” 

Carm rolled his eyes, tried to steer the conversation back to the point. “So my Da– Jerry. He didn’t know?” 

“Fuck, no. I mean, he figured some of it out when Don got knocked up. By that point they hadn’t touched each other in so long, he knew she was fuckin’ around on him with somebody. Had ta be.”

“And then what?” 

“Yer mom had you. And you came out lookin’ just like me.” That soft, malicious laugh again. “I couldn’t believe it, you had my eyes and everything. Right there in fuckin’ Jerry Berzatto’s face. You were like a blinkin’ neon sign, kid.”  

Carmen felt his chest tightening up. He really didn’t want to have a full blown panic attack in front of this douche bag. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. 

“And?” 

Sam unlaced his hands and sat forward on the couch, arms draped over his knees. He was leaning in toward Carmy now, studying him. It felt like being sized up by a man eating lion. 

“He couldn’t fuckin’ handle it. He tried to take care of you for a while, and Don told me to get lost. She wanted to fix things, she said. I think we all know how that went.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, Jerry couldn’t cut it. There you were, a tiny reminder of what Donna and I had done. He finally had enough of her bullshit, I guess. And you were just the straw that broke the camel’s back.” 

Carm’s brows furrowed. “What are you saying?” 

“Kid. Come on. You’re related to me so I know you can’t be that fuckin’ dense. You’re the reason Jerry finally left. He had put up with so much from Don over the years, hand to God the dumb fuck tried, but in the end it wasn’t enough. With a broad like Donna, it never is.” 

Oh, shit. It was happening again. Carmen pressed a fist to his sternum and stared at that singular point, trying to focus on his breathing. Not right now, don’t do this now. 

“Y-you’re…that’s not…” 

“Not true? You think I’m lying? Why would I? Jerry Berzatto was a sleaze bag and a criminal that let another man fuck his wife for months, then he split when he couldn’t deal.” Carm couldn’t see it, but Sam was rubbing his fingers across his top lip, considering his next words carefully. 

“When I saw what a shit show that house turned into, after he left, I knew I had to take you away from it. Away from her.” 

All at once, the world screeched to a halt. Carm sat there, frozen, burgeoning panic attack stalled out, so still he didn’t even bother to breathe. Finally, he looked up at Sam from under his mop of curls. Their eyes met, and there was that predatory stare again. 

“You– what?” Carmen whispered. 

“I tried to take you away from all that– that– chaos, that Don created for everybody around her. I know you don’t remember any of that, you were so little, but when Jerry left, shit really hit the fan. And I wasn’t gonna just walk away. No fuckin’ way. You were mine.” 

“You– kidnapped me?” 

“That’s what they put me away for. Even tacked on an extra 15 years, because I had a gun under the passenger seat of my car. I never fuckin’ touched the thing, forgot it was even there. Shitass detectives doubled my time over that stupid gun. Aggravated kidnapping my lily white ass.” 

Carm was still struggling to process the idea that his birth really had caused the destruction of his parents’ marriage, a confirmation of the guilt that had hidden all these years in the darkest recesses of his heart. The news that his biological father had kidnapped him just wouldn’t compute. He didn’t know what to say. He ran his hands through his hair and held his head practically in his lap. 

Sam kept talking, trying to fill the loaded, awkward silence. “I slipped into the house one afternoon. Donna was passed out on the couch, she didn’t even realize I was there. You were napping in your crib, so I just picked you up real easy and carried you out to my car,” this time, his smile was kinda sad, “I even had a car seat for you. Me. A fuckin’ car seat.” 

“How did I—?”

“Get back home? Jerry.” 

Carmy’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. “My dad?”

The older man’s expression darkened. “Jerry. When Donna woke up and couldn’t find you, she called him. He knew what kind of car I drove, so he reported you missing and gave the cops a description of you, me, and the car. Pulled us over on the I-94.” 

“My dad– saved me?”

Sam leaned over and poked Carmen hard in the chest. “Jerry Berzatto is not your father! I am your father, you call me Dad now.  You’re mine and we belong together. We always have! You’re not like them, and you know it.” 

Carm absentmindedly rubbed the sore spot on his upper chest where Sam’s finger had dug into his skin, barely paying attention to the other man’s proximity. His eyes were fixed on a sketch on the wall, a hand study– he knew it was impossible, but he could almost swear they were Donna’s. Donna’s hands on Sam Morris’s wall. 

And still, Sam kept talking. “We should have been together all of those years. You and me, kid, we’re two of a kind, I just know it. But we can be that way now, Carmen. Make up for lost time. You and me, we don’t need anybody else. You don’t need Don, or Natalie, or that little prick Richie that was always hangin’ around your house,” he gently reached out to cup Carm’s cheek, turning his head so they were face to face once more, “let me be your family now, Carmy.” 

From somewhere in the dimmest shadows of distant memory, there was a flash of something, some impression that he could barely put his finger on. It was the vague notion of a voice, and the smell of cooking grease, sweat, nicotine. Strong arms holding him tight and the voice was saying, “Carmy Bear”. No, wait, maybe it was “I gotcha, Carmy Bear.” 

“Carmy Bear,” he breathed. 

“Huh?” Sam looked confused, not entirely sure what he’d heard. 

“Carmy Bear.” Carmen slapped Sam’s hand away from his face and jumped to his feet. “My name is Carmen Berzatto. I have a family, and I don’t need anything from you.” 

Sam stood now too, looming a full head taller than his son. “You don’t belong in that family and you know that’s the truth. Every time Jerry looked at you, he saw me. Every time Donna looks at you, she sees me. They took care of you, but they don’t love you like I do, Carmen.They never have, and they never wi–” 

Carm shoved Sam hard in the chest, knocking him back onto the futon. He sat there, momentarily stunned, as the younger man stood over him, practically shaking with rage. “You think you’re smart because you exploited the weakness in another man’s marriage? You think there’s something special about you because you took advantage of someone who was lonely and sick? You think you’re some kind of fuckin’ hero because you stole a child?” 

“Carmen, I-” 

“No! You’re nothing to me! Nothing!” He turned away from his father and ran his hands through his hair again, drowning in the waves of emotion breaking over him– anger, sadness, longing, love, hope, and pain. 

Sam was saying something, but Carmy was too far away to listen. He was suddenly overcome with scenes from his childhood, flashing before his eyes like one of those old photo slide shows. 

He was 8. A brief period where Donna was completely sober. The smell of blueberry pancakes on the kitchen table before they left for Mass. Her smile. 

He was 10. Hiding behind some bushes in the backyard after they switched Lee’s ginger ale with mouthwash— Nat’s dark blue eyes shining in the afternoon sun as she kept a hand clapped over her mouth, trying so hard to be quiet and not to giggle. 

He was 14. The first time Richie called him “Cousin”. 

He was 17. Cooking with Mikey, helping him perfect the spaghetti recipe that they’d use at The Beef. Laughing at his crazy stories, experimenting with flavors, not a care in the world. 

He cut Sam off mid-sentence. “I know who I am. And I know where I belong.” He turned to face his father. “I never want to see you again. Stay out of my life, or I’ll make you wish I had never been born.” 

“Mission fuckin’ accomplished,” Sam spat. 

“Fuck you,” Carm muttered as he marched out of the apartment. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if Sam pursued him, but thankfully that didn’t happen. He practically ran down the stairs and through the foyer, hitting the push bar with enough force that he stumbled onto the sidewalk. Once he’d recovered his balance, he shoved his hands in his pockets and marched toward the train station, breath misting in the chilly air. 

__________________________________________________________

When the doorbell rang, Pete and Natalie gave each other puzzled looks across their dining room table. Nat’s eyebrow raised in a silent question, and Pete shrugged. “I’ll go check.” 

He definitely wasn’t expecting to see Carmy when he opened the door. He smiled, clearly thrown. “Oh, hey Carm. Uh, whaa–what’s up?” 

Carmen still had his hands jammed into his pockets, and he didn’t return Pete’s smile, only gave him an apologetic shrug. “Hey Pete. Is Nat here?” 

“Sure, yeah, she’s in the kitchen feeding Antonia her lunch. Come in.” 

As the pair turned the corner into the eat-in kitchen with Pete in the lead, he tried to cover the awkwardness of the unannounced visit by acting excited. “Hey, look who’s here, Nat! Carmen dropped by!” 

From her perch in front of her daughter’s high chair, Natalie looked up, swiping a strand of hair out of her face and inadvertently leaving a smear of sweet potato baby food on her forehead. She was so surprised to see her little brother that she didn’t even notice. 

“Carm? What’s wrong? Is everything okay at the store?” 

Carmen made a simmer down gesture with his hands. “Yeah, everything’s fine, Sugar. I just needed to see ya.”

Well attuned to the usual antics of his wife’s family members, Pete could immediately sense some Berzatto drama incoming. He headed over to grab Antonia. “We’ll just go, and leave you guys to it.” 

“No, Pete, if it’s alright, I’d like her to stay. And you, too.”  

Pete glanced at Nat, who gave the tiniest of nods. He settled into one of the dining chairs. 

Carmen reached down and picked up his niece. Cradling her to his chest, he inhaled deeply. She smelled like Johnson’s baby shampoo and sweet potato puree. As she looked up into his face, he could see so much of Pete in her features, but her earnest expression was all Sugar. He smiled down at her, just taking her in for a second, and then sat down in the nearest chair. 

Natalie could tell there was something weighing on him. And it was freaking her out. She saw Carm looking stressed all the time at work, but this was different. Whatever this was, it was really heavy.  

She leaned toward him, that same serious look on her face that Antonia had. “Carm. Are you okay?” 

Carmen looked from his niece, to his brother-in-law, to his sister, and nodded as if he’d just made up his mind. 

“Sug, there’s somethin’ I gotta tell ya.” 

Fade to black, credits roll…

[twistedthings]

      ――――――――――― ⌽ ―――――――――――

Why not? The question burned through his skull to redden his cheeks with a jealousy he couldn't quite control. A breath pulled in through his nose and Brody steadied himself, focusing on Carmen over the raging pulse of his anger and the rushing thoughts filtering through his head like the viciousness of his fists. It didn't matter who the other man was, not really, he didn't mean anything next to what Carmen meant to Brody. He wasn't jealous because he was worried about the other man being better than him in any way, no, the jealousy that burned through Brody was because the other man had been able to touch her in public. Trying to take what wasn't his and not for a second did Brody really think that he felt Carmen belonged to him. She was her own person, if she wanted to see other people then she could, Brody didn't control her. But when he'd seen the way that the older man had been all over her, well, he couldn't stop the heat that even now burned his skin. Did she think telling him who the guy was made it any better? It didn't. There were images of violence and blood flashing through Brody's mind and it was only Carmen's soft hand against his face that really and fully pulled him from those thoughts. That didn't mean he wasn't still pissed.

Brody knew that his jealousy was an ugly monster, one that he didn't even have the right to allow to show its head with Carmen. They weren't exclusive, he didn't control her but seeing that other man touch her so liberally had set something off in the young man and he was having a hell of a time getting it to simmer down. Red tinted his cheeks and his eyes were nearly intense as he just stared down at Carmen, trying to figure out his feelings and swirling heat in his gut. Maybe he should march back out there and beat the shit out of the older man, for touching what wasn't his. A part of his brain went down the road of planning just that, locking Carmen in this room so she couldn't follow and just destroying the other man. It wasn't a healthy means to deal with the feelings he had coursing through him and as Carmen didn't back down but instead put her hand on his cheek the man took a breath, exhaling through his nose.

The tension in his jaw, something he hadn't really noticed until she pointed it out, lessened just a bit but that intensity in his blue eyes didn't waver. "Are you alright?" The question came out softer than his tone had been previously, genuine concern touching it with a mild surprise to Brody that was what he was asking, what he was saying to her with all the emotions telling him to act out, to yell and rage, to take it out on whoever or whatever was in his way but he didn't want to do that to Carmen. She didn't deserve his ire, she deserved his understanding. They weren't supposed to be anything, it was more than obvious that her father was an issue and Brody didn't fucking care what anyone but Carmen thought of him, least of all her father. But he'd play nice, for now, it was why he'd dragged her off to a place they wouldn't be seen together. "Just... tell me you're alright, I need to know," that would be the only thing that would calm him down, settle down that possessive, jealous beast raging beneath his ribs. "-- I don't give a fuck about that guy... I..." he just cared about her.

@deepinthedarkworld

Carmen had stumbled after the male only to be closed shoved inside a room where the two of them now found themselves alone. A frown washed over her features before she settled for a light smirk. "Why not?" The two of them weren't a thing, not officially. They couldn't be. So was he expecting her to live in celibacy? "Your name isn't written across my forehead. Or on my ass." She could see the anger written all over his face, from how it shone in his eyes to just how tense his jaw was. Standing her ground as the male moved closer, she fought the urge to reach out for him. "That prick is my dads friend." A friend who liked his ladies younger. Tighter. "Some old bastard who thought he'd get lucky." Her father had not been around to witness the very much hands-on communication, thank fuck. Finally, the brunette reached up to cup the side of his face, hoping it would ease his jaw. He was certainly going to get a headache if he kept on doing that. "Please stop that. It's not good for you."

[adelheidvonschicksal]

In the Countryside

Summary: Your family moves to a new house, where you strike an unlikely friendship with its ghostly inhabitant. Too bad you didn’t know that somethings are better left in the past.

Tags: Modern AU, Ghost AU, Yandere, implied child neglect, a bit of kissing when reader is 18, mild sexual references, and cursing, angst, mentions of death and corpses 😊

Word Count: 7.9k (I had to hurry up the ending a tad, because it was getting way too long)

August 20th, 1999

Age: 8

You stand inside the empty foyer of your new home. The first thing you think is that this house is bigger than your old one but lacks its warmth as the steps of the moving company workers echo through the hollow room. There’s a lot of dust clinging to what little furniture that was left behind by the old inhabitants, understandable considering this house is made completely of golden lumber like so many things in the countryside.

Your father tells you that the countryside will be nicer than the city, a new start for the family. There won’t be any more fighting in the countryside. It’s a new home, new friends, new everything. The only thing from your former place you carry is the doll named Carmen squeezed in your arms, your best friend, custom made to look like you.

“(Name), why don’t you go pick out your room,” your father tells you, and you rush excitedly to the steps, not catching your mother’s voice echoing out towards your father.

“I can’t believe you moved us out here.”

On wobbly feet, you ascend the spiral staircase. It’s difficult because your legs can barely rise above the steepness of the steps, and they make an ungodly creaking sound all the way up until you reach the top.

You go through the many different rooms in the house, searching for the one you’d want to call your own. Already in your head you knew what colors you wanted your walls to be painted. At the very end of the hall is the final room, a single door centered on the shortest wall. You were about to search it to add to rank against all the others when a single line of powdery white trailed in front of the frame stopped you.

Curious, you place your doll on the floor in favor of poking at the thick line, and little grains of white stick to the tip of your finger so familiarly. You stick the finger in your mouth and gag.

It tastes salty.

As you’re running your tongue over your teeth to get rid of the taste, the door in front of you slowly creaks inward. You don’t know why when you look into the darkness of that room your body starts to shiver. For some reason, you’re scared but you’re not sure of what.

Suddenly, you see sharp blue cutting through the darkness as feet echo just beyond the frame. You’re unable to move as the steps grow louder but when those same blue eyes snap on your figure you finally manage to turn and run the other direction, screaming.

You stumble down the steps and to the foyer, where your mother is instructing the movers where to put everything. Desperately, you pull on her hand to try to get her attention. “Mama, mama, upstairs, there’s someone-“

“(Name), can’t it wait? I’m doing something.” She lightly swats your hand away causing you to pull it defensively to your lap. Biting your bottom lip, you force your eyes down and stampede to your alternative, the one you know wouldn’t reject you.

“Daddy!”

Following behind your father, you stride up to the second floor and return to the room at the end of the hall. The door is still wide open, a foreboding sense of strength inside the dark room makes you cower behind his leg.

Flicking on the lights, your father walks inside but you refuse to go past the line on the floor. He looks around the area, at the many boxes and chests stacked all around, the room obviously having been used for storage. Then, he spots it—an old mannequin head used for styling hair sitting high on top of one of the boxes. This must’ve been what scared you.

“See, there’s no one in here, baby girl. It’s just a doll.”

He flashes you the mannequin as if to prove his point, and you frown, unsure how to piece together that it was a doll you saw. You definitely heard someone moving.

Taking the doll with him to toss away and prevent another scare, your father flicks the lights back off and leaves the room. Closing the door, he finally notices the salt poured on the floor. Leaning over, he drags his fingers across, breaking it.

Rubbing his palms together, he scoldingly asks, “Did you do this?”

“It wasn’t me, it was already there!”

He sighs.

“It’s probably for slugs. Great, that’s just great. Don’t tell your mom about this,” he makes you promise before stalking back down the hall and leaving you behind.

You make a move to follow behind him but it’s a last inkling thought that you remember you were leaving Carmen. You grip your hand around her wrist and hug her tight. You couldn’t believe you almost left her behind again. Turning, you go to follow your father but pause when you hear the creaking of the door behind you and a low whisper.

“(Name).”

You glance back at the door, another whisper of wind sends a shiver along your spine and disturbed you run away as fast as your feet will allow.

October 31st, 1999

Your father is a liar.

He promised the countryside would be better, but there’s no one your age here to play with like in the city, and every house is too far away for you to go trick-or-treating. So, you and Carmen only have each other to play within your large fenced-in yard.

Carefully, you sit her against the side of the house before running to the other side of the yard where your rubber kickball waits. You bounce it off the side of the house, pretending to play toss with her. Each time, it comes back to you, rolling a little on the hilly grounds to reach you.

You play like that for almost half an hour without incident until the ball bounces off the house and right over the fence. “Carmen, you threw it too hard!” you whine and head towards the gate.

In your head, you know that you’re not supposed to go out the gate by yourself, but you reason that you’d grab your ball and come right back into the yard. So, you stand on your tiptoes and jump, smiling when you’re just tall enough to unhinge the lock.

Walking down the driveway, you finally spot your ball stopped in the middle of the street. It never crosses your mind to make sure you look before running up to go get it, and you don’t notice the slight rocking of loose asphalt and shred of tires speeding down the street until the metal grill plate of the car is already right on top of you.

You’re frozen, unable to move out the way, your only instinct being to flinch as if it would protect you. With an inhuman amount of strength, something hard and heavy crashes into your body. It slings you back to the side of the road as the car swerves the other direction and comes to a screeching stop that leaves black marks streaked on the road.

You blink a few times, unsure exactly what happened, but the next thing you know your father is opening the car door and you’re being scooped off your feet and into his arms, your chin rested on his shoulder as his hand hugs the back of your head.

“Fuck, baby, are you okay?” he frantically rants, and you can feel his chest rapidly expanding against your body with his panicked breathes. “Daddy is so sorry.”

“I’m okay,” you tell him, unable to explain how it felt like someone had pushed you out the way. You glance around for the source of that force but find only his car remaining, the same car you’d be squished under right now had you not fallen over. When you realize this, that’s when the waterworks start and fat globs of tears start to run over your chubby cheeks as you bury your face against his shoulder.

“Where’s your mom?” he asks.

You sniffle. “In the house.”

Once again, you realize your father lied.

There’s still fighting in the countryside. It’s your fault for going outside the gate, so you stay upstairs, bouncing the rubber ball up and down the hall to avoid the arguing that’s happening downstairs. As you throw it back down the hall, the lone door creaks open, allowing it to roll into the dark shadows on the other side.

You pause right outside the door, not brave enough to enter into the dark. Unlike most children, you’ve never been truly afraid of the dark, but you do fear what’s in it. You stand outside for almost eternity until the little bouncy toy slowly rolls back into the light of the hallway.

Eyes widening, you hesitantly grab onto it before curiously rolling the ball back into the room. You wait a few seconds, and sure enough, it finds its way back to you. You plan to do it a third time, but your mom’s voice stops you.

“(Name), it’s time for dinner!”

“Okay!” you answer and promptly return to the first floor.

Dinner that night is eaten in silence, and you’re almost thankful for when it’s over. After eating, you take your bath, and you’re neatly tucked into bed at eight. Yawning, you turn in your sleep, hands instinctively reaching out for Carmen only to find her absent.

It’s almost impossible for you to fall asleep without her at your side, so you scoot out of bed and look around your room for your precious doll. Failing to find her under the bed, you gaze around once more and catch a familiar shadow stretching out in the hallway.

“Carmen, get back here,” you call out as you pad into the hall after her. You spot the doll, sliding further and further along the wooden floor. You focus completely on catching up with her; and in your concentration, you fail to realize your feet passing the threshold of the storage room.

Your hand reaches up for the light, and your signature move is to jump to turn it on. You shift your gaze to the several boxes and chests around the room, unable to find your doll in sight. You’re sure this is where she went, and you start searching through the storage boxes.

“Hey, there, cutie pie, is this what you’re looking for?”

Surprised, you turn around and find your doll hovering in front of you. You’re so excited that you yell her name and reach out to draw her to your chest in a tight hug. It’s when you hear a smooth chuckle that you’re drawn back to your senses.

In front of you, a man, probably the tallest you’ve ever seen, his hair is white like the snow and his eyes are a familiar yet brilliant shade of blue. The biggest thing about him is perhaps that you can see through him, at the little particles of dust flying behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

He takes a step closer, and you take a step back.

“I’m n-not supposed to talk to strangers.”

It’s a poor excuse but it’s also the truth. You’re not sure who this man is but you can recall running from him the first day you moved in. You wonder if he’s been hiding in here the whole time.

He laughs at you, something soft and sweet, and it makes you drop your guard when he smiles pretty at you. “Ah, but we aren’t strangers. Don’t you remember playing together earlier?”

“We did?”

The man nods at you before taking a seat on top of one of the sturdier chests to level himself closer to your height. “We played ball together,” he says, and you vividly remember your ball rolling back to you. “And if I didn’t pull you out the way today, your daddy would’ve hit you with his car.”

“That was you?”

“Sure was!” he answers proudly. “Good thing, it’s Halloween too. Usually I can barely hold onto this form, so you would’ve definitely been out of range otherwise. Honestly, it’s kind of annoying not having all my powers,” he rants and laughs when he sees how confused you seem by it. “Never mind. My name is Gojo Satoru by the way.”

Hesitantly, you grasp his hand. It’s a strange feeling, chilly and fragile, like his body is barely holding on but you don’t let go as he shakes, “I’m (Name).”

“Hello, (Name). It’s nice to meet you,” he says, “There, now we’re officially friends. Now, how about we go get some candy? I saw that lady downstairs put a huge bag of it in the pantry.”

April 17th, 2000

Everything has gotten better ever since you’ve met Gojo. You learned a lot about him in the few short months that your family has lived in the house. You found that he used to live here a really long time ago, back in the sixties. He passed away before you were born and has been alone in the house ever since.

You felt a little bad for him for being by himself for so long so you promised him that the two of you could be friends since you didn’t have any either.

The only problem is he can’t leave the property.

(“Why not?” you ask him.

“I’m not strong enough yet.”)

It didn’t matter though.

There was plenty of fun for you to have around the house together. Currently, the two of you were sitting at the dinner table, coloring pictures together and sharing your plate of snacks. You had gotten your father to bring a fourth chair to the table months ago so Gojo could eat dinner with you.

You thought it was a little funny, seeing a ghost ask for food, but he insisted that he could still taste it despite not necessarily needing to eat. Still, it was a bit disturbing to see parcels of food travel through his translucent body. But lately, Gojo was beginning to seem a little more human, growing a bit more solid, a little less fragile each month he spent interacting with you.

“Bleh,” you look up to find him stretching out your juice cartoon away from his face, his nose scrunched in disgust. “What is this junk?”

“Apple juice.”

“It tastes rotten,” he says, sticking out his tongue as he gags.

“It’s not rotten,” you giggle. “It’s sugar-free.”

“Oh, double gross. I think I would’ve preferred rotten. Don’t you got anything edible?”

You blink at him. “What does edible mean?”

“Loaded with sugar,” he explains, and you open your mouth in realization.

“There’s soda in the fridge.”

Gojo rises from the table and heads to the kitchen while you follow behind him on short legs. He opens the fridge to find the soda you were talking about, but his eyes spot something much more interesting.

“Now, this is what I’m talking about,” he says, and your eyes widen when he grabs the long neck of a glass bottle filled with deep red liquid. “Merlot, huh. You know normally I hate this type of stuff, but it’s been decades.”

“You can’t drink that,” you tell him. “That’s adult juice.”

“Good thing I’m an adult then,” he teases, and you pout up at him and cross your arms.

“You’re going to get us in trouble.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to drink that much, I’m a lightweight.”

You’re not sure what he means by that, but you know that he shouldn’t be drinking it especially from the bottle. “Stop it!” you whine loudly as he sips it down, drawing the attention of your mother.

“(Name), what are you doing in there?” she calls from the living room, and you and Gojo both jump when she rounds the corner into the kitchen. Gojo immediately disappears, leaving you with broken glass and a puddle of wine spreading on the floor.

You gulp as she places her eyes on you.

“It wasn’t me! It was Gojo!”

You whine as she carries you off to your room.

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re too old for imaginary friends,” she scolds before sitting you on top of your bed. “You’re in time out,” she tells you, and you fold your arms and angrily puff your cheeks at her as she walks out the room.

As soon as the door closes, Gojo appears right on schedule and gives a low whistle. “Sheesh, she’s kind of a bitc—bore, isn’t she?” he says, and you hmph at him in response. “Aw, don’t be that way.”

“You got me in trouble.”

“I know, I know, but look at what I got you~” he coos, and he pulls out candy from his pocket. “Right off the top shelf, fresh for you.”

Your eyes immediately light up, and you take the candy and aggressively shove it into your mouth.

“Thank you, Sato!”

“That’s what best friends are for,” he says, enjoying the way you eyes light up as you suck on the piece of candy.

“You’re not my best friend,” you tell him bluntly, innocently, and he scowls. “Carmen is my best friend.”

“Who the hell is Carmen?” he asks, and you smile at him before digging under your sheets to pull out the doll.

“This is Carmen.”

“Ah, so not a real person.”

“Don’t worry, you can still be my friend as long as you don’t get us in trouble again,” you tell him as you lick the candy wrapper.

“Are you sure about that? If you ask me, you don’t need that doll anymore.”

“But-“

“Can she color with you?”

“No,” you admit.

“How about play toss with you? She certainly can’t tell jokes like I can or talk for that matter.”

“No, but—”

“So why is she, a bunch of cloth and plastic your best friend, and not me?” he asks, eyes glinting in the light, making nervousness creep inside of you.

“Because m-my daddy bought her for me so I wouldn’t get lonely,” is your answer as you hug her defensively but he’s way stronger than you as he pries the doll away.

“But you have me now, so you don’t need her anymore because I’m your best friend, and you’re my best friend. So, neither of us have to worry about being lonely, right?”

“Uh…right,” you say unsurely but your agreement causes his eyes to dull back to normal as he smiles at you, and it makes you calm. “Alright, you can be my best friend.”

“Best friends forever?”

You nod flippantly and hold out your pinkie to complete the promise, and Gojo happily accepts, even more excited than you are.

“Good. Trust me, it’s much better this way.”

December 7th, 2003

You’re surprised this day didn’t come sooner. All these years, you could sense the tension in the house; and by the time you turned twelve, you gained enough world knowledge to understand how fragile your family situation was.

You understand why your father moved out to the country now, which you’re grateful for his attempts to piece together an already fractured marriage but moving didn’t erase problems, and your mother had been clamoring more and more about wanting to leave this house behind and go back to the city. Your father even contacted a real estate salesman about selling the house, but you guess she didn’t feel like waiting.

You wake up on that morning and find your father alone at the table, arms raised, hands folded in front of him, and head forward to lean against them. There’s an unusual silence in the air and the lack of other sounds alerts you to the fact that something is wrong.

“Where’s mom?”

“(Name), I—”

Oh.

That’s all you can say as you’re not entirely sure how to feel. You simply feel empty aside from this strange hole deepening in your chest; and when it hits the bottom, it implodes and swells inside you at once.

You suck in a quiet breath and clench your fists to hold the flux of emotion in your chest. You have to be strong for the two of you left.

“I-It’ll be okay, daddy,” you tell him. Dragging your feet forward, you close the distance to press your head against his shoulder. You can already feel your tears beginning to soak into his sleeve. “I’ll help do everything mom used to do, so you don’t have to worry about the house, and I’m sure she’ll be back soon…”

He drags from underneath you and wraps it around your back to pull you tighter.

The rest of the day you take refuge in your room, tucked in the sheets of your bed as you silently cry to yourself.

“In my opinion, this is a good thing. Four years, and I never really got what she did around here anyway.” He laughs at his own humor, but you aren’t laughing as you turn over to face away from him. He walks to the other side of the bed to look at you.

“It’s not your fault. You know that right? Sometimes, people just leave.”

“Mhm,” you answer but it isn’t honest.

A part of you will always blame yourself. You’re certain she didn’t want you around to begin with and if you weren’t here that things wouldn’t have dragged out for this long. Sniffling, you turn on your side to hide your swollen face from him.

Gojo sighs softly. He’s never the best at comforting words.

Seeing enough space available right at your back, Gojo climbs into the bed with you and pulls your arm to roll you towards his chest. He can actually feel the warm tears leaking on his body, and it makes his non-existent heart tug.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, fighting not to sniffle.

“For what?”

“For ruining your birthday. I know it’s today. I was planning to make you something but—”

“Oh, that? Don’t worry about that. What’s more important is that you’re okay.”

Gojo squeezes his arm around you, and you nearly start to cry again at how warm and real he feels, at how the affection in his voice eases the swelling in your heart the tiniest of bits.

“Sato…”

“What is it, angel?”

“Promise me you’ll never leave me.”

He softly smiles at the top of your forehead.

“I promise,” he grabs your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours, surprisingly solid against your shaking limbs. “I’d never leave you, angel.”

And as you wrap your arms around him, the best birthday present is knowing that now his best friend won’t leave him either.

February 14th, 2009

Going to school in the country is a different experience than going to school in the city. In the country, everyone already knows everyone; and unfortunately, that goes for you as well.

Since middle school, everyone knows you as the girl who lives in the old house on the back road, the girl with imaginary friends who think ghosts are real. You wish you could make them all understand that your best friend, Gojo, is very real, and he’s a great guy. Handsome too you now realize since you’re finally at the age that you notice how smooth and symmetrical his face looks, how handsome his white lashes are ghosting over his skin when he closes his eyes.

There’s also another boy you’ve been noticing. He’s captain of the baseball team at school, dark-haired and smart, a pitcher. Someone who’d never notice you as you blend in with the other girls who made chocolate for him on Valentine’s Day.

You’re proven wrong as the boy of your dreams asks you to be his girlfriend.

That afternoon, you bike home as quickly as you can to let your best friend know the good news. You run into the house, all the way upstairs to your room, and flop down on your bed with a squeal as you hold your hands over your heart.

You scream seemingly at nothing.

“Gojo!”

As if summoned, Gojo apparates in your room and sits cross-legged at the end of your bed in time to see you swoon again.

“He asked me out!”

“Who? Baseball Brat?”

“Gojo!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he sings out. “I mean that astute young gentleman.”

You roll your eyes and sit up on your knees. “You can at least pretend to be excited for me.”

“I am excited,” he replies as if offended you’d ever accuse him of not being genuine in his actions. “Who wouldn’t be excited over their little angel dating someone who wears all his baseball caps backward.”

“I get it. You don’t like it.”

“I never said that. I think you could do better though.”

“Gojo, let me have this one, please,” you ask him sweetly and flutter your eyelashes at him. He gives in almost readily to that look, and a soft smile crosses his face that could melt butter.

“Fine. I’ll let you have it for now.”

You giggle at him. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I’m not even really sure what we’re supposed to do together. Oh, what if he tries to kiss me,” you dreamily sigh before suddenly a look of horror takes over your expression. “Oh god, what if he tries to kiss me?”

“Don’t you want him to kiss you?”

“No, I mean yes! But I’ve never kissed anyone before! What if I mess it up or worse what if he’s kissed before and I’m not as good!”

Gojo laughs at your panic. “Calm down, kissing is really easy. You have to be the most socially stunted person on earth to mess it up.”

“Sato, no offense, but the only friend I had for the last ten years is dead. I’m what you’d consider socially stunted.”

He can’t contain his amusement. It comes out in a deep chuckle as his hands rise up to cup your cheeks. His lips falling on yours is so sudden, and the taste of him seems surprisingly real, intoxicating as his lips work over yours. Feeling dizzy from the force, you moan weakly into his mouth, and he pulls away as soon as he hears it as if he was teasing you by only giving you enough to make you crave for more.

His eyes are shining when he looks at you with a boyish grin. “There, you had your first kiss, so nothing to worry about now.”

Your face heats up, and you growl. “Satoru!”

“Don’t think of trying to do anything more with a brat like that until you’ve dated for a while, got it?” he says, poking fun at your little anger from having your first kiss taken from you so suddenly.

You stammer. “I can’t believe you.”

“I’m only teasing,” he says, but you huff and cross your arms at his laidback attitude about it. Angrily, you flop back onto your bed, and Gojo slowly slides over you to box you in. “Are you mad, my pouty princess?”

“Yes.”

“Are you really?” he repeats, running his fingers up your sides to tickle you. You refuse to give him the satisfaction and purse your lips to fight off the urge to laugh. It’s no use though when he zones in on that spot around your waist that’s been sensitive since you were little, and you start to giggle. He refuses to stop until your eyes are watering and your chest is burning from lack of oxygen.

“Okay, okay, I’m not mad,” you puff out, and he smiles at you as you gently wipe the tears from your face. Then, you look up, surprised to find him frowning at you.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he whispers then bites down rough on his bottom lip, “If I was still alive, I’d give you a lot more than a kiss.”

“If you were still alive, you’d be 100.”

“How old do you think I am exactly?!” he spats, making you laugh. “I’m serious. I would’ve made you mine by now. Maybe even started on a family by next year.”

Your smile drops at his confession. You’d say it’s surprising, but you think you’ve always sensed that at some point Satoru had fallen in love with you, probably around a year ago. You wish you could fully return his feelings, he’d been alone for so long, and you didn’t want him to feel like he was going to lose you.

But you weren’t sure if the two of you could ever really be happy together.

You bring your hand up to caress his cheek.

“Hey, I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head and gives you that award-winning smile again.

“It’s fine. I just want you to be happy. This guy, he makes you happy, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you tell him.

“Then, that’s good enough for me. But promise not to forget me here.”

“I’d never forget about you.”

“Even if you get married and move away to have a little baseball team?”

You chuckle. “If I ever got married, I’d find a way to bring you with me, no matter what, you’re my number one best friend after all,” you say, and you mean it. You’d look for anything to make sure he didn’t get left behind here, alone again. He’s such a talkative guy, for someone like him, being alone has to be torture.

Gojo groans softly, leaning his head closer towards you as he squeezes onto your waist. “Why do you make it so hard to share you,” he says, and you don’t resist when he once again claims your lips.

If only things were different.

March 10th, 2009

Satoru has never seen you cry this much before in years, probably not ever since your mom left. He holds onto you tightly, fingers trembling to hold down the anger radiating through him and making his eyes glow brighter. Too embarrassed to tell your father the situation, it’s only natural when you seek him out and explain what that boy did to you. That rotten, spoiled, loathsome little bastard.

“I’m so stupid,” you cry into his shoulder, and Satoru keeps his mouth to your neck, kissing you softly in an attempt to comfort you. “Why did I even think he’d like me?”

“You’re not stupid, he’s an asshole.”

Satoru had known that there would always be assholes in the world who’d lie to get what they wanted from women. He was one of them in a way but never had he stooped so low to pretend to like someone because a friend had dared him to ask them out, and he also wasn’t stupid enough to let that person find out.

“Angel, how about you invite him here?”

“Why?”

He winks. “We’ll play our own little prank to teach him not to take your pure feelings for granted.”

“That’ll never work,” you say, “He’ll never come over.”

“Sure, he will. Tell him you want to work things out, that you’ll be all alone and the two of you can get closer for real this time.”

“You think he will?”

“He’s a teenage boy, and you’re a cute girl. Of course, he will.”

At that, you agree.

March 15th, 2009

Against your better judgment, you listen to Satoru, feeling as if you could use a little revenge against the boy who so callously toyed with your heart for the mere bet of twenty dollars to date the weird ghost girl for a month.

“My room is right up here,” you tell him, holding onto his hand as you lead him upstairs and into your room. You can barely contain your excitement as you tell your classmate to lay down on your bed and take off his pants for you while you go freshen up. “I’ll be right back,” you say, planting a kiss on his cheek to keep him interested.

You step out of the room, closing the door behind you, and you go into the bathroom so you can have a prime seat to view the carnage. It’s about a minute later when you hear screaming from the other side of your door. You have to cover your mouth to stop your fit of giggles as he scrambles out of your room, still in his boxers. Satoru steps into the hall, quickly fade stepping to catch up with the other boy.

“This is too good,” you think, but jump when you hear a thud from down the hall.

Worried, you leave your position to see what happened, and you can’t contain your shock as you catch Satoru holding up your classmate against the wall by his neck. “Satoru, what are you doing?”

“Trust me. This is for the best.”

You flinch when Satoru’s grip tightens around the kid’s neck, causing him to gag as he clawed at Gojo’s wrist.

“Satoru, that’s enough! We’re only supposed to be scaring him,” you try to remind him, “Put him down!”

Sighing, he snaps his head in your direction, glowing eyes fading back to normal blue. “Fine,” he agrees, and relief fills your heart until you notice him walking towards the stairs.

“Wait,” you strain out as it quickly dawns on you what he’s doing, “Please don’t do it!”

Satoru doesn’t even look at you as he pulls his arm back in a slinging motion.

You scream as you see his body flung down the flight of stairs. Your classmate tumbles headfirst, and there’s a crack that echoes through the foyer when he hits the steps at an odd angle about halfway down. When he finally lands on the floor, you push past Satoru and rush down the steps to check on him.

“Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead,” you think each creaking step towards him. Luckily, he opens his eyes and the first thing to reach you is a cry as he flips off his side.

He grasps onto his right arm, sobbing as he screams out a solid fuck. You quickly realize the crack you heard was his arm snapping, and you make a panic rush to dial your father, who you were sure would get there much faster than the ambulance, seeing as there was only one hospital a good distance away from the area.

When you come back home, it’s well past midnight. Luckily, the doctors don’t really believe people when they claim ghosts attacked them especially when they have a concussion. Your father goes to his room to take a shower, and you sigh as you carry your fatigue body up the steps, pausing to grimace when you see the smallest smears of blood still dried into the wood.

You hear a low whistle and look up to see Gojo leaning over the banister that surrounds the first few feet of the hallway. You’ve never seen a look that absolutely delighted on his face or that disturbing.

“Looks like he won’t be pitching for a while, huh,” he says, laughing even.

“Satoru, you could’ve killed him. You realize that, right?”

“So? It’s like I told you during that whole Y2K nonsense. Death isn’t that scary. Besides he deserved it for hurting you.”

You glare at him. “That’s not anything I wanted. You went way too far.”

“Trust me, (Name). If I wanted him dead, he’d be dead. Remember, I’m the only one who knows best for you; and if that means getting rid of one more person, so be it.”

Your eyes widen.

“Sato…what do you mean by one more person?”

He doesn’t answer your question as he dissipates.

June 21st, 2009

You’ve come to realize that you don’t know as much about Satoru as you should have. Having ignored his presence these past few months and watching as he becomes more unhinged and desperate for your attention, you begin to wonder if he’s truly the friendly person you once thought you knew.

You knew nothing else than he let you see, not even how he died, and his cryptic response back in March still scared you. What had he meant about getting rid of another person for you?

Had he…killed someone?

The thought absolutely terrified you even more as you would catch the way he’d stare at you, blue eyes ablaze like a furnace.

Finally deciding you needed more information; you stay late after school to look up any information you could find on the house and Satoru Gojo.

Your search doesn’t take you to a pretty sight as you open up a murderer catalog. The article tells of Satoru Gojo, a man who killed his girlfriend and then himself in the very same house after finding out she was leaving him for another. You almost couldn’t believe that the Satoru you knew was a murderer, but when you think back about how he so easily tossed your classmate to the wind, you start to find it easier to believe, and it begs a question that you’re not sure you want to know the answer to as you think back to that morning six years ago.

You go home late that evening, as you did every evening recently, and see Gojo waiting for you right at the door.

“There you are! Where’ve you’ve been? I’ve been so bored!” he complains as you sit your backpack down.

“Sorry,” you say, your heart racing in your chest as you catch his gaze. “I had to stay late to study.”

“Again? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re avoiding me,” and you tense at the way he cocks his head at you and narrow his gaze into a glare.

You gulp. You want to ask Satoru about what you read at school, but you know you can’t tell him about that information, about how you know that he’s more dangerous than he let’s on, not until you figure out a way to deal with him.

“Of course not. I’m busy with college exams, that’s all,” you answer.

“Exams are so boring. Why don’t we play videogames instead?” he asks, and you quietly agree, walking to the living room with him.

As you sit on the couch and uses his powers to pull you into his lap, cuddling your body close, and he’s warm, real, almost human, but also colder than you ever remember.

October 31st, 2009

This day was always coming. The day you would leave Satoru. You’d always feared leaving him behind, but now you couldn’t wait to get away from him. Your father received a new job back in the city, and you were finally leaving the god-awful countryside.

But you also knew, you couldn’t just leave him be to do whatever he wanted to the next family that comes along. You had to trap him like he was before so he wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

You waited until you were alone to put your plan into action, you didn’t want to risk the chance of Satoru hurting your father when he undoubtedly gets angry for what you were about to do; and if you hesitated any longer, he’d figure out that you lied about finding a way to bring him to the city with you.

Satoru trailed behind you as you pack your bags and stack them downstairs along with the rest of the things important to you. Once you finally finish getting the last of what you were bringing with you, you return upstairs to your room, inwardly nervous and ready when Satoru comes in behind you.

“So, how exactly am I going to follow you? Is it some kind of possession deal, oh, maybe attachment? That’s more of a demon skill though,” he muses, and you sigh, relaxing your shoulders.

“Satoru, we’re moving, and you’re not coming with us.”

He scowls. “Didn’t I teach you that jokes should be funny?”

“It’s not a joke. You’re staying here.”

Immediately, you feel the temperature drop, and he narrows his eyes at you, unable to comprehend why of all times you’d betray him like this. “No, I know you. You promised, you promised if you ever left that you’d find a way to take me with you.”

“That was before I knew who you were. Satoru, you’re a bad person, and we both know it.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. You’re alone because you hurt people. You were imprisoned because you hurt people, like my classmate.”

Satoru straightens the scowl on his face, turning it into a remorseful sorrowful expression instead as he steps closer to squeeze your shoulders. “If this is about that baseball bastard, I’m sorry. I got a little worked up, I admit. I promise to make it up to you. I’ll get you sweets or flowers or something.”

You shake his hands off you and distance yourself, moving to get a better angle to your door. “This isn’t something you can fix by bringing me candy! I’m not a child anymore, and it’s not only about him but also about her too. My mom, where is she?”

“(Name),” he begins, his voice dangerously low, threatening you not to pry where you’re not wanted. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Where is she!?”

“Under the house,” he answers, not one bit of care in his voice as he confesses, and he hums as if trying to remember, “At least her bones, maybe the clothes? I’m sure the worms have already taken care of the rest.”

Tears prickle at your eyes. You knew it. You absolutely knew it, and you rasp out, “How could you?”

“How could I?” he repeats. “I killed that bitch for us. She was always nasty to you, and she was going to take you away from me, back to the city, and that no good cuck father of yours would’ve let her.”

“Unbelievable,” you growl, reaching into your back pocket to grasp your hand around the black cylinder you prepared, “This is exactly why you don’t deserve to leave this place.”

“(Name), you can’t do this to me,” he says, and he’s frantic now, trying to reason with you where there’s no excuse. “You can’t leave me here. I’m your best friend, aren’t I? Best friends forever means forever.”

“You’re not my best friend,” you tell him sharply, “I’m leaving, and you’re staying here.”

“I know you don’t mean that,” he says defiantly, his entire body shaking as the remaining objects in the room begin to tremble.

“You think?” You flash him the little cylinder in your hand, big bold white letters reading “salt” on it. You go towards the door and already you’re starting to draw a line on the frame. “I’ve already salted all the windows.”

“(Name), don’t you dare. You can’t leave me. I will not be alone again. I will not.”

“Don’t worry. I’m leaving Carmen here. She looks enough like me. She can be your new best friend. Although, she can’t really talk or tell jokes like I can,” you mock, merciless to his remaining feeling. Sucking in a hard breath, he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, they’re draining with thin black ink.

It’s probably the first time you’ve seen him shed tears, and it’ll hopefully be the last as you come close to creating a thick barrier. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re starting to make me angry.”

“Too bad.”

You finish off the line, a victorious smirk on your face as you look at him on the other side of it, fists clenched to his side as black tears descend to the floor. It doesn’t scare you though at least until you see the glow of dangerous turquoise on you, hurt and angry, and it takes you back to the day you first felt chills at seeing those eyes.

“(Name), it’s natural for friends to fight, so if you apologize now, I’ll forgive you.”

You spit in his direction. “Bite me, Casper.”

The house begins to shake and the vases in the hall float in the air as he stalks to the doorway. “You’re going to regret that,” he hisses out, it sounds nothing like the playful voice you’d always known. It was darker, almost demonic, and you’re hit with a rush of energy that knocks you to your feet. “I’m much too strong for that to work on me now,” he tells you, and you see it’s true as the barrier you once hoped to trap him in starts to slowly blow away from the energy swirling off him. “The veil between the living and dead is always thin on this day,” he mutters to himself, pursing his lips together, and your heart sinks. You’ve heard before that on Halloween, the realms between the living and the dead are closer together, but you didn’t particularly believe in it until he says, “It’s probably enough to pull you through.”

Seeing your plan fail, your only hope left now is to get off the property. No matter what, he still has to be connected to it. He wouldn’t have panicked so much about you leaving him here otherwise if he had the means to escape it.

With no time to waste, you stumble to your feet and run as fast as you can down the hall, but he’s trailing you closely every foot of the way.

“You shouldn’t have betrayed me, (Name).”

You ignore his callings and continue down the stairs, you’re so close to the door, the handle easily within grabbing distance. As soon as you touch it, you feel a surge of strength behind you. Your hair is gripped in between his fingers, and your head goes forward against the brown wood, once, twice, and the third time your consciousness gives out, and you slump to the floor as it all goes black.

November 3rd, 2009

The countryside is a nice place, much nicer than the city. There’s nothing but wide, rolling fields and friendly people, and maybe the occasional story about the haunted house on the backroad.

But scary stories are just that, stories.

The real horror is the news of a murder in the small town, of the worried whispers that spread through the once safe community about the husband that murdered his wife, and the daughter that still hasn’t been found.

But if people went to that house and went into the storage room on the second floor then they’d find you, stuck somewhere between the real world and the immeasurable void of the spiritual plane that lies beyond it, your hand pressed to the cold glass as you watch the blue and red light of police cars disappearing in the distance.

Maybe if you would have kept to the rule of not talking to strangers, this could have been avoided.

It’s too late to dwell on that though as you hear the echoing of footsteps behind you and see the glowing of blue eyes reflected in the broken vanity as Satoru steps closer and places a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry, angel, you still have me, and I’ll never leave you.”

[sunshinedevotee]

Re: Carmen pregnant

i really was hoping the pregnancy scare was just a red herring and a test of character for johnny. guess not...i don't understand the point tbh. what's a baby going to contribute to the story? a clean slate? bitch we did that in season 1 wasn't that the point? he literay could've just proposed.

also isn't johnny canonically in his late 50's? 😭 plus i'm pretty sure miguel's dad said him and carmen were practically miguel's age when she got pregnant so his mum's gotta be like 20 years younger but that's a whole other can of worms...

if they wanted to show that johnny's a standup guy and he's a changed man or whatever they could've just shown him work things out with his son. instead they literally had him be like "i have another kid coming figure out your issues already and stop fighting" bro you went to MEXICO for another kid meanwhile you were never there for your own son. robby has every right to hold a grudge cause any proper healing and atonement for being a shit father happened off screen.

it's pretty clear the writers didn't know what to do with johnny this season and wanted to hone in on his fatherhood while daniel took the spotlight (which is totally fine). but again come on, he's got enough going on between miguel, robby and oh right the goddamn karate war which is the backdrop for this entire show! they easily could've made the photo that slips out of his pocket in the last episode a pic of the diaz-lawrence family.

idk maybe i'm soulless or something cause i thought they were going to make her lose it or something. i couldn't understand how the writers thought it was a good idea. it gives the impression that a baby is needed to legitimise a relationship (again...just propose) but maybe i'm reaching. if the point is to show that he can be a good father and show up then for me it erases everything that's been established about second chances and forgiveness.

TLDR; the man is pushing 60 let him focus on his son/s, drink his Coors beer, teach karate with his frenemy, eat ham slice and lie. i don't want him to be too serious. johnny is the most entertaining when he gives bojack horseman anyway.

[trilliastra]

[*drops a sterek fic after two years and runs away to hide*]

-

It’s all Cora’s fault and Derek will remain of the opinion that his life only went downhill the moment his little sister was born.

It starts with Sara, his sister’s friend, whose boyfriend turned out to be a jerk and would not let her inside his apartment to collect her things unless she took him back. And Cora volunteered Derek to help.

Derek didn’t really mind it at first, Sara only needed a guy to look strong (which he is), angry (which he was) and able to carry her stuff from place a to place b (which he did). But some weeks later Sara met a friend with an equally stupid boyfriend and said friend had another friend and then Laura heard about it and it suddenly became a thing.

Georgia, Nelly, Carmen, Lola.

Isaac.

“I could help, you know?” Derek had said after the fifth time he noticed the blossoming purple bruises on the back of Isaac’s neck, his scrapped knuckles. “If you need to get rid of your –” he lowered his voice, “boyfriend.”

Isaac had looked at him, wide eyed, before he confessed he isn’t gay and the problem was actually his dad. “Oh,” Derek had said, thinking for a moment before adding, “I could help with that, too.”

Turns out Derek’s intimidation skills were lacking when compared to his own father’s.

-

“You’re doing a really nice thing, Derek.” Isaac says one night, helping him with his hand. Asshole boyfriend of the night thought he could bag a few punches before letting Phill grab his laptop back. Derek was faster, and stronger.

Isaac moved in with him and Boyd two weeks after his dad was sentenced. He didn’t want to, at first, was still incredibly shy and scared of everything, including Derek, but he opened up to Boyd pretty quickly. Despite his built (and the fact he can bench press three times his own weight), Boyd is the softest person Derek has ever met.

“Sure.” Derek sighs.

“But?” He asks and Derek sighs again, looks away when Boyd walks into the room.

“I had a date.” Derek confesses and Boyd whistles in sympathy.

“How many times has it been, again?”

“Three.” Derek winces when Isaac presses the antiseptic over the cut. “I’m – I really like him.”

“You could just tell him.” Isaac says. “He’s a cool guy, I guess.” He shrugs, smiling. “Sometimes he’s an asshole. But not in a bad way.”

Derek huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.”

Stiles is an asshole, he likes teasing Derek when they are discussing ethics in the workplace and every way capitalism is stepping over immigrants, they banter and they quote books back and forth and while some people (his sisters) roll their eyes when Derek brings up some history fact, Stiles nods along, brings up another history fact that Derek didn’t know (or sometimes pretends not to know, just to hear Stiles talking about it), hands moving around as he explains his point or badmouths a historic figure that owned so much money ‘their great-great-grandkids are still swimming in the gold they stole from the natives’.

Derek is in love.

“What did you tell him this time?” Boyd asks, munching on his chips. He shakes the bag in front of them and while Derek takes a couple, Isaac shakes his head, still not used to being allowed good things.

Some memories are hard to forget.

“That my mom had stopped by to visit.” Derek says. He hates lying, he is not even good at it. The first time he tried to tell Stiles he looked like a wet cat after he got caught up in the rain, white shirt sticking to his chest, Derek’s cheeks had gotten so red, Stiles asked him if he was okay.

“Dude.” Isaac says, shaking his head in disappointment as he finishes bandaging Derek’s hand.

“I know.” Derek gives back, collapsing on his bed with a groan.

This is all Cora’s fault.

-

Okay. Stiles texts back when Derek has to postpone their date again. Derek can feel the disappointment through the message, mirroring his own feelings.

How about tomorrow night? Derek tries, stares at his phone for minutes until he realizes Stiles probably won’t text him back.

-

“Please.” Maria says, holding her cat with a bright smile as they talk in front of a coffee shop. She is trying to convince him to accept a coffee and Derek is trying to convince her he doesn’t need it. “How can I thank you?”

Derek sighs. “I didn’t do anything.” And it is true, her boyfriend wasn’t working when they arrived at the coffee shop and when they opened the door of the apartment upstairs, it was empty save for the cat that Maria is currently hugging.

“You were there for me.” She smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear and Derek already knows what’s coming.

It’s not the first time, probably won’t be the last. He has been invited for ‘thank you’ coffees, dinners, sex. It never felt right, though. Not with the guys, and especially not with the girls.

Sorry. He always says. Some of them are attractive, he supposes, but he was, and still is, very much gay.

“I’m—” he starts, but Maria’s eyes widen and when Derek turns around, a guy is stalking towards them, eyebrows furrowed in anger.

“You bitch!” He shouts, startling most of the costumers inside and the shop and the people walking around the street. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my cat back!” She yells back and Derek steps closer, eyeing the guy’s fists as he starts to shake with anger.

The guy notices his move and turns his glare to him. “And who the fuck are you?”

Before Derek can answer, Maria chimes in. “My boyfriend.”

“What the fuck?” It takes Derek a second to realize the words didn’t come from him, but from someone in the crowd, one of the onlookers that gathered around them to watch the scene unfold.

Two seconds after that, Derek realizes the person talking was Stiles.

-

That explains a lot. It’s the last message Stiles sends him before blocking his number.

Derek tries to call, talk to him after class, but his friends keep him away, Lydia going as far as brandishing a can of pepper spray in front of him, eyes shining with an unspoken threat.

“You should follow him to his dorm.” Isaac offers, weakly.

“Creeps do that.” Derek says. “I don’t want to be more of an asshole than I already am.”

“You’re not an asshole.” Isaac says, clasping his shoulder in sympathy. “I could – talk to him? If you want?” The offer makes Derek smile, touched. Isaac is still extremely shy in front of strangers, but just the fact that he considered doing it for him is enough.

“It’s fine.” Derek says. It isn’t fine, and they both know it, but he will pull through. Eventually. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

-

It’s harder that Derek anticipated, seeing Stiles during classes and not being able to talk to him, to tease him when Mrs. Schilder glares at him for using a pun that makes the entire room burst out laughing from second-hand embarrassment.

He is beautiful, Derek thinks at least ten times a day, and smart and kind and funny and Derek could see them being together for a long time, falling deeper in love as the time passes.

He should be used to not having good things. He grew up as a middle child, as a gay teenager in a small town where some boys were so far deep in the closet, they couldn’t find their way out, he should be used to not keeping the things he likes.

So why does it hurt so much?

-

“Derek—”

“No.”

“She needs—”

“Call someone else.”

“You are really going to leave her—”

Derek slams his book shut, kicks his chair back as he stands up. Cora’s eyes widen when someone tells him to be quiet and Derek simply ignores them. “I need to study for a test. Call someone else.”

Helping someone should feel good, it should make him happy, not feel like a burden. He is more than an angry guy with a strong body. He doesn’t even like confrontation. He started working out to burn his energy, to let out some of this anger that he’s been constantly carrying inside and he kept working out because he enjoyed it and now – now even that is ruined.

“Why are you being so selfish?” She asks and Derek knows, deep inside, that she doesn’t mean it like that, that she’s just as angry as him, humiliated by the fact he’s calling her out in the middle of the library. Still, that doesn’t matter now. Now, Derek is angry and sad and done.

“Fuck you.” He says and walks away.

-

His initial plan was to make it to his apartment, bury himself under the covers and not leave his room until his mother comes to give him an earful. Because she will, undoubtedly, when Cora tells her about it.

But Derek doesn’t make it to his apartment, he doesn’t even make it outside the library, simply makes a u-turn and heads for the dark zone, a space under the stairs leading to the storeroom where couples usually go to make out. There, he collapses on the ground, taking deep breaths, and buries his face in his hands.

This has been a long time coming, he thinks. He’s been on the edge for a while. This entire experience has made him remember how awful it was to pretend to be someone he wasn’t, to be only liked for his body or for his ability to pass the answers to the test without the teacher seeing him.

Some memories are hard to forget.

“Are you okay?” Derek flinches, surprised to hear Stiles’ voice. “Oh,” Stiles whispers, noticing Derek’s red eyes, the tears streaming down his face, “bad day, huh?”

“She was not my girlfriend.” Derek blurts out, head a mess of emotions: fear, anger, loneliness, regret.

“Dude,” Stiles frowns, confused, “I know Cora is your sister.”

“No.” Derek shakes his head, frantic. “The other day, at the coffee shop. I was helping her with her ex-boyfriend, I do that sometimes. He— he was an asshole and she needed help getting her cat back and I look strong and I know how to –”

“Woah, woah, slow down.” Stiles raises his hands, alarmed, and Derek realizes his own hands are shaking and he can’t breathe. “In and out,” Stiles whispers, “can I—can I touch you?”

Derek shakes his head, focusing on his breath. Panic attack, he remembers, suffocating. No touching. “Okay,” Stiles agrees, easily, “should I keep talking?” Derek shakes his head again, keeps his eyes on his hands. Talking is too much, listening is too much, breathing is too much. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” Derek manages to gasp. He doesn’t want to be alone.

Stiles nods, leans against the wall next to Derek and starts fiddling with his shoelaces, twirling them around wordlessly. Derek doesn’t know how much time it passes, but he keeps watching Stiles’ fingers moving distractedly, patiently waiting for him. With him.

“I’m sorry.” Derek manages to say, eventually.

Stiles sighs. “I know.” He closes his own eyes before turning to Derek. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I—” Derek swallows heavily, “have to.” He answers, before shaking his head. No, that doesn’t sound right, “no, I—I want to.”

-

They leave the library together, Stiles standing up first and offering his hand to help Derek up. Stiles doesn’t let go as they walk towards Derek’s apartment, squeezes his hand from time to time as Derek tells him about everything.

“You could have told me.” Stiles notes.

“I don’t know why I didn’t.” Derek confesses. “I guess I didn’t want you to see me as that guy too. Beefy Derek.” He laughs, humorless. “That’s the nickname my sister came up with a few months ago.”

Stiles groans, stops walking, forcing Derek to stop as well. “You are so much more than that.” He assures, touching Derek’s face softly though his eyes shine with certainty. “I love your brain, your cute jokes, the fact that you get my stupid history facts because you like history just as much as I do, and especially the way you care so much. College, people, the world.” He pulls him in for a quick, assertive kiss, and Derek immediately feels so light he could fly. But he won’t, because Stiles is keeping him grounded by the softest touch, the smallest smile.

“Cute jokes?” He manages to ask, arching an eyebrow. When Stiles laughs, he smiles.

“They are.” He insists.

“Okay.” Derek accepts the words easily, because everything seems easy when it comes to Stiles. “If I ask you out on a new date,” he says, “will Lydia pepper spray me?”

“I will stop her.” Stiles reassures, squeezing his hand again. “But before,” he adds and Derek feels his stomach turning with anticipation, “you have to know that I kind of hate your sister right now.”

“Oh.” Derek says. “Okay, I can—I can see that.”

“I’m sorry.” Stiles says, though he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“Me too.” Derek agrees.

-

When Derek tells him about Cora’s apology and the earful his sister got from their mom, Stiles excuses himself to go laugh in the bathroom while Derek shrugs and goes back to eating his share of the pizza.

By the time they get married, Stiles and Cora have become best friends. Derek hates it (he doesn’t).

[izzymcfeegles]

Cobra Kai Season 4

The Bad

-Eli fighting for Miyagi-Do for the sake of the plot. I get that it's about rebuilding his bond with Demetri but I would have like to see him spend more time really embracing Miyagi-Do and learning more about the legacy of the dojo he once trashed.

-Daniel and Johnny going back on their bullshit mid season knowing full well that they needed to work together to defeat Kreese and Silver.

-Yasmin being used as nothing more than arm candy for Demitri. While I love that she's really into him, I feel like they completely erased her personality and made that her only quality. Gross.

-Sam in general this season. I've always given her the benefit of the doubt, but she came across as a real spoiled brat this season. I really hope Amanda has a chat with her daughter next season, similar to the chat Daniel had with Anthony. I love the LaRusso kids but they need to be straightened out.

-Aisha being brought back for only one scene. She was the first girl to compete in the All Valley. She deserved to be competing with the rest of the girls.

-Stingray in general. The joke about him being a desperate man child who hangs out with minors has run its course and was never funny to begin with.

-The love rectangle fight at prom. The whole thing has been played out. Can we just have a night where all the teens can forget that they're living in a karate soap opera and have some fun like normal kids?

-Terry turning on Kreese. Everything Terry has ever done has always been for Kreese. That's where his loyalty has always lied. Now that Kreese is out of picture...what's his motivation for moving forward? To get back at Johnny for betraying Kreese when he betrayed Kreese himself? I get that they wanted to set him up to be the big bad and that Johnny was always going to be the wedge that drove them apart, but I just don't see how taking Kreese out of the equation was necessary.

The Good

-All of the cross training scenes with Daniel and Johnny. Daniel and Johnny sharing their lunches like grade school kids. We love to see it.

-Everyone at Cobra Kai agreeing that Kyler is the worst.

-Terry's explanation for his behavior in Karate Kid 3. A total cop out but it fucking works.

-Amanda going mama bear on Tory and learning more about her own past.

-The Okinawan sparring deck.

-Anthony finally getting something to do and getting some much needed development after being ignored for three seasons.

-Daniel and Amanda finally being called out on their parenting skills. Julia Macchio was incredible as cousin Vanessa.

-Daniel breaking a tablet in half.

-Kenny. This child is sweet and adorable and I want to adopt him and deprogram him.

-Miguel spending more time with Daniel, learning about fixing cars and Peter Cetera. Give this kid the banana boat. He deserves it.

-Robby and Tory's relationship not being toxic and the two of them actually managing to bring out the best in one another. Them actually getting to have some fun on prom night and be normal teenagers for once.

-Demetri's development and how he manages to gain more confidence while still being true to himself. And his Pac Man suit at the prom. Iconic.

-Tory getting help for her issues and more importantly, allowing others to help her. So proud of all the progress she's made. Love that for her.

-Johnny's hesitancy to break the news to Miguel that he and Carmen are dating because he knows what it's like to have a father figure thrust upon you without having a choice in the matter. It's sweet and sensitive, albeit a bit misguided.

-Terry vs Johnny. Terry realizing that despite his loyalty to Kreese, he will he always be second fiddle Johnny Lawrence.

-Drunk unhinged Terry beating the ever loving shit out of Raymond. Did he deserve it? No, but we love to see it.

-Eli and Tory getting their All Valley wins. Wasn't expecting either to pull out the victory.

-Miguel deciding not to fight, realizing he has more important things he needs to do deal with. That if he ever wants to move forward, he needs some answers about his past.

-Robby having his moment of clarity and admitting that he's tired of being angry with his father. Seeing the two crying and hugging it out. I'm not crying, you're crying.

-My man Chozen coming back and Terry all but confirming that we're getting Mike Barnes (and possibly Snake and Dennis?) in Season 5. I really need a scene with Johnny, Chozen, and Mike next season commiserating over their losses to Daniel.

[asphodel-storm]

GRIPES. Don't like gripes? Here's my positivity post. This one is just gripes.

1) I did not expect Johnny to completely see the errors of his ways this season. Not while we know we have at least one more season. But I did expect him to at least take baby steps. Instead the show seems to be saying his way is equal to Daniel's way and Daniel has to learn to accept that?? And...no? Like, yes, Daniel is hard headed. But no, Daniel is not wrong that Johnny's methods are dangerous physically and unhealthy mentally.

I hate that it seems like the show forgot Johnny is wrong.

2) Kreese was so inconsistent and I hate how they're setting up a 'he has good in him!' redemption thing. He's a good villain. That he has complicated feelings about Johnny and is a villain in his life anyways is part of that. Trying to scrub the things that made him interesting away is irritating. Trying to pretend he wasn't an abuser to Johnny and loves him in any kind of selfless way is offensive. He tried to murder him twice and at least the second time wasn't a heat of the moment thing. He had already decided what it meant when he said that was Johnny's last chance.

3) I feel like Miguel should have had more issues with Johnny dating his mom.

4) Girlfriends as rewards for good behaviour.

5) There's a point where everything's coming up Johnny. His relationship with Carmen? Good, somehow. His combined dojo? Also going well. His relationship with Miguel? Fine. His relationship with his son? Still bad, but he isn't exactly working on it. And then Miguel makes friends with a second middle aged man and Johnny tanks the whole combined dojo project over it, essentially. Like, I see him being bothered, sure, but to this degree?

6) The way Hawk seems to be punished in a bad karma kind of way instead of in a 'you need to really work on these relationships' way. The show shows one moment of 'he's working' and then switches to just having bad things happen to him.

7) Robby having to be the one who gains new understanding of his dad and reaches out.

8) Sam and Miguel caring SO MUCH about Tory and Robby. Like. I just don't really believe it.

9) Daniel breaking Anthony's tablet. I just feel like a lot of people will applaud that and they shouldn't. Anthony is a little shit who needs discipline, but destroying kid's possessions in front of them is not okay and I find it difficult to believe Daniel would cross that line and not realize and regret it. Instead they play it off like that worked and video games were actually the problem.

10) Forcibly shaving Hawk's head being treated as non-violent when it was very violent and a huge violation.

11) The way this show seems to glamorize flawed father figures while saying imperfect moms are whores.

[thorniest-rose]

Sometimes I remember that quote “I don’t know how to stay tender with this much blood in my mouth,” and all I can think about is Johnny Lawrence. 

There’s something in that, about a man who shows such potential for warmth and kindness, but who was taught at a young age by the only father figure he had that qualities like this made you weak. That kindness, concern, humility, empathy etc were all things that made you vulnerable and that you had to eliminate them if you wanted to survive. And Kreese wasn’t just a father figure but a paradigm of idealized masculinity for all the boys he taught, so of course they took everything he said as scripture. Especially Johnny. 

And by the time we see him in the second season of Cobra Kai, he’s starting to realise that everything Kreese taught him was bullshit, but getting himself out of that mindset (I guess what he went through was a type of indoctrination, with Kreese running his dojo like a small cult) is hard. I think Johnny probably sees himself as a little broken - can he still be tender? Is that a quality he can possess, after years of denying it and numbing himself to it? And even though he definitely CAN feel tenderness, which he shows in how much he cares about Miguel, Robby, Carmen and others, I also don’t think Johnny sees himself as being worthy of it. Both feeling it and being the recipient of it. How can Johnny be soft or tender after all the damage that he’s done and all the damage that’s been done to him? He’s a walking jumble of scar tissue and broken relationships and bloodshed and booze, and I don’t think Johnny ever thinks he should be allowed to feel tender. He probably thinks he doesn’t deserve it. 

[doyelikehaggis]

so fun fact, after i sent yesterday’s ask i watched all the way through s1 and 2 of tbbr so i uh. i’m on the s2 finale now

i always forget that this is the episode where tracy is just having a bit of a breakdown for an entire episode. honestly would’ve liked to see a bit more serious stuff with tracy, it’s kinda odd that she was the comic relief of her own show?

y’ know what. i’m gonna say it. i don’t like carmen. she’s so self absorbed? and if memory serves she does not get better in later seasons either

i am so soft for mike being a father figure to tracy. like of course he’s a father figure to all the kids. but especially tracy.

wHy is elektra treated as in the villain in this episode??? carmen was such a bitch???? what is it with this show villifying the best characters in favour of the annoying ones *glares at sasha*

i just got to s3 and oH my god.. tYLER- he is?? tiny???

honestly i love all the burnywood kids. tyler? iconic. rick?? amazing. lizanne?? queen. kitty?? literally tHE most underrated character in this whole show i will forever be pissed off they never really explained her story or even wrote her out properly

elektra’s pride flag my beloved

i forget how much Grievous Bodily Harm™️ this show contains

there may well be a second ask tonight i’m so sorry

oh my god sdkjfhsdk valid though, I usually end up binging it everytime I rewatch it as well

yeah, that's a good point. that episode was pretty serious compared to a lot of the others, and you're totally right, it would've been interesting to see more of that, especially with Tracy considering all of her trauma? Like, even TSOTB didn't REALLY do too much with Tracy. I remember being shocked when I reread the TSOTB book and picked up on the fact that Tracy was being physically abused by her mum's boyfriend and THAT's more the reason she got put into care. but the show never even really hinted at that. and then TBR just kind of continue the theme of making Tracy the comic relief without ever touching on her trauma.

that's perfectly fair. sometimes that kind of personality just doesn't meld well with others, so it's entirely reasonable that you don't like her. she is QUITE self-absorbed but I always kind of put that down to the way her mum was, too? a lot of the way that Carmen acts is the same as how she says her mum was, but the main problem is that you're right, the writers don't give her any kind of development or growth beyond like two throwaway episodes (see: the one where she becomes Harry's 'mum' and treats him horribly when Rick comes back and she realizes she's doing exactly what her mum did to her, and the episode where she's trying to get fostered by the footballer and his wife and ends up turning them down to prove to Bailey that she's better than her mum). while I do quite like Carmen, I also really wish the writers cared more. she is constantly called out by other characters for being self-absorbed (the episode where she's trying to learn science experiments for that job and ends up ruining Jody and Kaz's project and completely ignoring Floss, who was visibly upset for like the entire episode), and she has the big moment at the end of these episodes where it SEEMS like maybe she'll have some growth but she just. doesn't. and it's really disappointing on the writer's part.

oh, the relationship between Mike and Tracy makes me all warm and fuzzy. because we know that Tracy never really craved or missed having a father figure in her life. she never reflected on her terrible step-dad and wished she had a better one, and she never openly talked about waiting for her dad to come and find her like she constantly did with her mum. and I think, like she says to Mike in her last episode of tbr, that's because since the moment she went into care, she had Mike. and that just makes me feel all of the feelings !! I just love dad!Mike!!

yeah, it does bother me that Elektra is made out to be the bad guy in that episode because it was pretty clear that Carmen was in the wrong when she was being all nice and friendly to Elektra and gave her the necklace, only to take it all back the second she heard that Lily was coming back. she just dumped Elektra on the spot (which, actually, I'm realizing again comes back to her mum, and raises a really interesting parallel to her dumping Harry the moment that Rick came back into the picture...), so of course Elektra got upset. she also didn't go about it the right way, obviously, because they're both just kids and they don't really know how to handle emotions. I dunno, the writers make some interesting (and sometimes questionable) choices.

TYLER IS SO TINY!!!!

the Burnywood storyline was one of the best and it is very iconic of that care home to have given us (even if only briefly for three of them) some very iconic characters. I'm happy we got to keep Rick and Tyler but I am also a bit mad that we didn't get to keep Kitty, too, or as you said, at least get more of an explanation for her storyline. she was our second mostly non-verbal character, possibly with severe trauma, possibly autistic, and I just really think there was a lot more they could've done with her character.

ahh yes the iconic Pride Flag

oh dfkhdsk yeah, that was quite a main feature, wasn't it?

don't apologize, I am Ready and Waiting for another ask dkjfhskj

[qvid-pro-qvo]

hello :) would you mind writing something for barba x reader where she's part of svu and get's hurt on the job and he's with her during it and afterwards in the hospital? wishing you a lovely day! xx

rafael barba x female!reader.

word count: 1907

rating: mature, for the moments that are spent doing nothing but praying for a miracle (tw: canon-typical violence, guns, blood, hospital, food. hurt/comfort).

-

There were a lot of things that Rafael Barba was thankful for, and one of them was you.

Not… directly for you. No matter what Rollins tried to tell him, tried to convince him of, it wasn’t you. It was your skill on that stand that endeared you to him. You were always prepped, and you were always ready to blow the jurors’ minds. You didn’t have a temper like Rollins, stubbornness of Fin, or Carisi’s… existence. You were you, and you held yourself to a brilliant standard. If he could have you on the stand, you were always your first choice.

This case was a shitshow, and as always, you held yourself to a higher standard. You were brilliant, you were incredible, you probably singlehandedly saved the case. But he wasn’t going to tell you that. No. He met you outside the courthouse, he shook your hand, and thanked you for your work.

“You did well” was his only remark. He shook your hand. A little too long. For some reason Rollins appeared in his head, and he shook her off. He didn’t have feelings for you. He appreciated you.

“Thanks. I got directed well,” you countered, and he smiled, a little quirk of his lips. You gave him something brilliant, a grin, and an elbow. It made him swallow, tightly.

Right. No feelings.

Suddenly your eyes closed, and you sighed. When you opened them again, there was something solemn, somber in them. “Barba, it’s only gonna get worse.”

He had tried to look away, ignore the feeling that your smile settled in him, but found himself glancing at you anyway. In this light, the heat of the summer, your face shined in the sun. You looked up at the sky before looking back at him, quirking your lips. He couldn’t help the way he noticed your coordination – his handkerchief, his tie, the color of your lips. A pretty deep pink. Impossible to pull his eyes away from.

He didn’t have a thing for you. But he was grateful for you. For you looking him in the eyes, and telling him again. “It’s going to get worse. The people who hurt our victims… they’re not gonna stop until every single one of them are behind bars.”

“We got one,” he countered. The two of you paused on the steps in front of the courthouse, a press conference a few feet away discussing the very case the two of you just ended. “It’s a start.”

“I know.” You turned to face him, and you gave him a smile. “I know, just. Just thinking.”

There was a sudden rush of movement. Rafael didn’t see much, didn’t feel much. But he heard. Heard you shout his name. Heard the scuffle on the stone steps of the courthouse, heard you announce yourself.

“NYPD, stop!”

And he heard the shot. He heard the shot, and he heard the gunfire, and all he saw, all he could do, he… he watched you fall.

Fall in front of him.

Because you took the shot. The one meant for him.

There was a commotion. A tackle to the ground. The screaming man was shouting at Rafael, for putting away the bastard he just put away, and you… you were on the ground.

You were fucking bleeding on the ground, god –

“We – we need a medic!” he shouted out. His voice was too hoarse, so he shouted it again, and again, until he couldn’t breathe. “Someone, please!”

“Barb – Barba.” You were choking on something, something a lot like blood, and that face that was shining was so damn pale. You lips were still that perfect pink, and Rafael’s hands were red, reaching out to press his own jacket to the wound. He had flashbacks to a courtroom scene, his hands tending to the wound in the judge’s side, but he blinked and they vanished. You weren’t a judge. You weren’t Rafael. The bullet missed, and the bullet hit you.

“Stay with me,” he begged you. “They’re calling an ambulance.”

“Are you h-hit?” you asked him, and his laughter was shocked out of him. It took him too long to answer, with a shake of his head. No hit. The only blood on his hands, on him, was yours.

You smiled, and there was red dripping from the corner of your lips. “Good.”

And then your eyes fluttered shut.

There were more things that happened. Liv showed, pulled Rafael back as the medics swarmed the scene. She looked to Rafael, scanned him. Asked him, more than once, if he was hit. But he’d already answered you, hadn’t he? It wasn’t him who’d gotten the bullet, even though he was the one who had been the target. The bastard had screamed his name.

“No,” he finally told the lieutenant, watching your body get taken away. He could only watch after all, because they were treating you. They were treating you, and you’d be fine, wouldn’t you?

Wouldn’t you?

“Rafa…”

His sharp look could’ve killed a weaker person. He turned the full force of his anger to Liv because there was nowhere else to put it. No other option. “No, but I should’ve been! God, I – I should’ve been.”

But Liv wasn’t weak. Not like Rafael. No, Rafael crumbled as soon as he spoke, and Liv stood beside him, held him up with her presence as the sirens faded away.

-

The beeping was incessant. Unending. Infuriating. Your heart, reduced to a monitor on a machine. He supposed he was grateful for it, knowing that you were alive, but if anything it just reminded him how lucky you were. That that steady rhythmic beeping didn’t stop.

It’d been three days since you got shot. Three days. The first day was spent in limbo, waiting in a room reserved for others in just as much pain as Rafael. That’s where the whole team waited, where Liv sat with Rafael when a case didn’t take her away. Waiting for news, waiting for the doctor, waiting for something. Anything.

When the news came, it was filled with platitudes. With good, good things. But all Rafael could think about was the cardiac surgeon who walked in along with the trauma specialist, the fact that a whole team was gathered around your body and fighting to keep you alive.

“The bullet shattered a few ribs, and nicked some of the arteries surrounding the heart and lungs,” the doctor told him, her smile tight. Her mask was around her neck, and her hair was contained under her hair net, but the lines remained – the place where her coverings had sat for hours while they stitched and poked and prodded. “It was a close call, but.”

“Will she make it?” Rafael asked, before he could stop himself.

The other doctor twisted his lips, too. “She’s a fighter. But it’s still a fight. It’ll be a few more hours before she’s truly stabilized, but. At this point the prognosis is positive.”

They discussed the details. A prolonged ICU stay. Sedation, while your body healed. A couple of calls, to the father, to the brother. Next of kin, after all.

When Rafael returned to the waiting room, a couple more of the squad had camped out there. A call from Liv had brought them.

“What’s the word?” Rollins asked, brow furrowing.

Rafael just blinked, realizing that her question was directed at him. Not Liv. Not anyone else. Him.

“Uh, she’s – she’s still in surgery,” he told her. “But the prognosis… positive.”

The nod from her was small, and Carisi reached out to hand him what was in his grip. A warm cup of coffee.

“Liv told us you’d been here, and, uh. Wanted to make sure your caffeine addiction didn’t get left behind.” It was a weak joke, but Rafael huffed anyway, shaking his head as he took the Styrofoam with the plastic lid.

“I’m sure my headache thanks you,” he returned.

The second day was the transfer. The move from the operating room to the ICU, the transition from waiting room to bedside. Rafael was the sole sentinel, sitting while Liv and Carisi and Rollins and Tutuola kept saving lives, kept fighting outside while you fought inside. Every so often, Barba was doze, only to startle awake to something he thought was you.

The second day was the realization. The feeling that overwhelmed him as he sat there, reaching for your hand. The moment when he made the call to Liv, asking for a change of clothes, a collection of files.

“Don’t you think you should take a break?” his friend asked him. Meaning well, a tentative reach. “I can only imagine what your back will be saying after sitting in those chairs.”

But it wasn’t a question. As long as you were here, asleep, he would be watching over you. “The clothes are in the closet in my office. The files are on my desk. Carmen can help you organize them.”

The hours passed. Liv brought clothes, like he asked, brought files, like he asked. Brought food, and water, and more coffee.

You slept.  

The third day was the guilt.

The third day was the day he spent on his figurative knees. Files around him, stacked and gathered and scribbled on. Three legal pads of various states of decay in his vicinity. And all he could think about was you, still so still on the bed.

He watched you for a while. Alternated watching you and working.

And in the end, he prayed. Prayers he didn’t remember learning, platitudes and pleas to God from his soul.

He gripped your hand and he prayed for strength. For you, for him. He crossed his heart and prayed for forgiveness. It was him after all. His fault. His fault, his fault, his fault, his fault –

“Barba.”

An answer to prayer. Your skin, sallow, your eyes glazed over, but your mouth quirked up. The vision of you there in the bed collided with the memory of what you looked like on the courthouse steps. The bandages, the bruising, all combining to create the sight of you.

But your eyes were open. And that’s what mattered.

His guilt could wait.

He was sure he looked just as much of a mess. Bags under his eyes pronounced. His suit broken down, until even his tie was tossed across the beside table.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked, and the question seemed silly. After all, his voice was hoarse, with the hours spent repeating prayers in English and Spanish. But you managed a smile, a groan, and he scooted closer.

You hadn’t let go of his hand.

“Like I got shot,” you hissed. “But. You’re okay, right?”

“Me?” Astonishment. How could you… how could you think about him? “I.”

Another squeeze, from you. It felt strong, felt like you. You smiled again.

“I’ve been here,” he finally admitted. The realization settling into every bone. The sight of your smile bringing it full circle. Rollins would say that she told him so, and Carisi would probably laugh at him. And Liv would just shake her head, but.

In the end there’d be you. He’d make sure of it.

“Boring, I’m sure,” you whispered. Your eyes met his, and when you blinked there was something you seemed to be pushing away. “But, uh. I’m good, now. If you need to leave.”

“I think I’ll stay a little bit longer,” he assured. “If you’ll have me.”

[delos-mio]

Death of a Bachelor - EPILOGUE

“Fuck, we’re so late!” you sighed as Charles pressed the elevator button for the 15th floor of the downtown high-rise. This photoshoot and interview had been on the books pretty much as soon as you and Logan got back from your honeymoon, so really, there was no good reason to be running this far behind. But, you’d been held up at the hotel putting out small fires that didn’t stop just because you were away from the office.

“Sorry! I know, I know. I don’t know why Cole can’t figure out how to convert anything to a fucking PDF.” Charles had been promoted to office manager and had been doing a spectacular job. You always knew he would be, but when it was finally time to add on those additional responsibilities, he took them on effortlessly. He did still enjoy moonlighting as your personal assistant, even though technically you had hired someone new to do that job. Now when he helped you out, it was as a devoted friend as opposed to paid employee.

“Just…just talk to him tomorrow, please?” you asked, the elevator pinging and doors opening.

“Don’t worry- you can consider it done.”

Your heels clicked on the tile floor as you made your way to the receptionist’s desk. The Forbes HQ was sleek and screamed “wealth”, which you were used to at this point. As you got closer, the curly haired woman stood up from her seat with a bright smile and rounded the desk to greet you.

“Mrs. Delos! We’re so excited to have you here!” She took your hand and gave it a shake.

“Thank you, happy to be here,” you replied, dropping her hand. “But, I actually kept my own last name,” you corrected gently. It was an honest mistake and one that happened often. You’d perfected the polite correction over the last couple months.

“I am SO sorry,” she said with genuine embarrassment. “Truly, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s really ok, dear. It happens all the time.” You waved her off quickly and reassured her it was just fine. “Besides, there are a lot worse things to be called than a Delos, right?” The smile finally returned to her face.

“You’re right about that,” she laughed and visibly let out a breath. “Here, follow me. The rest of your group is just through here.”

You followed her down a hall with double doors at the end. Just as she was about to usher you in, you heard your favorite laugh in the whole wide world. There Logan was, laughing at something Elliot had said, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. You loved it when he let go like that and just enjoyed himself and his company. He was handsome all the time, but he was absolutely breathtaking when he was happy. Logan must have heard the door shut behind you as he opened his eyes and turned to you, a grin plastered on his face. He held out his hand to you, which you were all too happy to take.

“Hey,” you whispered just to him.

“Hi,” Logan breathed back before placing his palm on the small of your back and kissing you with a smile still on his lips. “Glad you made it.”

“I was always going to make it,” you huffed, shoving his shoulder gently. “Sorry for being late.”

“I’m a patient man,” he shrugged.

“No, you’re not,” you laughed and he broke into a grin. “You look extra handsome.”

“Thank you, princess. You look entirely fuckable yourself,” he said in a low voice just for you, his hand wandering down your backside.

“Ugh, ok, enough,” Juliet said with a roll of her eyes. “Can we get this show on the road?”

With that, the photographer came over and started arranging everyone in front of the windows with the New York skyline in the background. Elliot and Emily were directed to stand together back toward the window, Charles placed just next to them. Juliet stood near the middle with John by her side. Finally, the photographer had you stand on Logan’s left side, the two of you front and center. Without prompting, Logan wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in close, kissing your temple.

“Can you…sorry. Forbes is looking for more…professional shots…” The photographer attempted to interrupt, but Logan kept his arm around you, only glancing in his direction.

“So, I’m not allowed to kiss my wife?” Wife. You still loved hearing the word fall from his lips.

“I…” the photographer drawled, clearly uncomfortable and unsure how to answer.

“I’m fucking with you. We can behave for an hour, can’t we?” Logan asked you, arching an eyebrow.

“I can. Jury’s still out on you,” you winked. You heard Logan groan that desperate little sound he liked to make in the back of his throat and ignored him, turning to the lens as the camera clicked.

The photo shoot was light and fun. You weren’t really sure what to expect since your experience being professionally photographed was extremely limited. But, Logan was a seasoned pro and never let you out of his grip, quietly encouraging you and fawning as picture after picture was snapped.

“Alright, I think we got what we need. You all did great,” the photographer smiled and set his camera down. “I think Carmen is set up in the other room whenever you’re ready.”

“Have you guys already talked to her?” you asked Emily.

“Yeah, she grabbed all of us before you and Chuck came. I think she’s doing his interview last.”

“Sounds good. How was it? Is she nice?” you asked, nervously thumbing the band on your ring finger, a new habit you’d picked up.

“She was pretty cool, actually,” Elliot shrugged.

“Mostly asked about you two,” John smirked. “Y’know, making sure you’re treating us good and all that.”

“Whatever,” Logan laughed. “You ready, babe?” You nodded and he draped his arm over your shoulder, ushering you into the small side room where a Forbes journalist sat.

“Mr. and Mrs. Delos! Very nice to meet you! I’m Carmen.” She introduced herself and shook your and your husband’s hands.

“Thank you for having us. However, my wife has kept her last name,” Logan said with a charming smile.

“Of course, of course. My apologies. A modern woman- I love it!” Carmen chirped before gesturing you both to take a seat. Logan waited for you to settle in, smooth down the top of your pencil skirt, before taking his seat next to you and placing his arm around you along the back of the couch.

“So, some congratulations are in order! First, congrats on Delos being named one of the Most Innovative Companies. That’s quite an accomplishment for your first year of ownership.”

“Thank you,” Logan said with a small nod.

“Second, congrats on your recent nuptials! Tech’s most eligible bachelor is officially off the market,” Carmen laughed. “Tell me a little bit about your wedding before we get into the meat and potatoes.”

“Well,” you started, “We started planning a kind of big wedding, something that we thought weddings usually looked like. But a couple months into making arrangements, we decided that it wasn’t for us and everything we’d been planning just wasn’t what we wanted. So, we rounded up everyone who was in that photoshoot with us and eloped in Fiji.”

“Wow, that’s quite a 180. And Fiji, that must have been beautiful!” Carmen beamed, clearly caught up in the whimsy of just fucking off impulsively to another country and getting married.

“They’re our family and at the end of the day, everyone else we planned on inviting was just decoration. It was nice just to have the people who mattered there with us,” Logan said, looking at you with a soft smile. “I only cared that my wife walked down to meet me at the end of that isle. Whatever else she did or didn’t want on that day was good with me.”

“That’s so sweet,” Carmen cooed. “Well, I’m very happy for you and marriage looks good on you both.” She took a moment to turn on the recording function on her phone and organize her notes. “So, once you got home, walk me through what happened at Delos. There has obviously been a lot of speculation between the change in ownership, the pivot to Virtual Reality, and the acquisition of other businesses.”

“As you know, John and I bought Delos last year from my father. In that last year, we more or less gutted the whole thing and started new. We kept on Juliet, obviously, and my secretary and that was it. Everyone else was let go. We made sure to bring in talent that was new and fresh and rallied around building Delos back up. My father liked people who said yes to him, and that led to a lot of stagnation both in new ideas and growth for the business. John and I didn’t want that. We wanted to make Delos our own.” Logan had that proud, serious look in his eyes that made you clamp your thighs together just a little bit tighter. “Our vision of the future of Delos required a clean house and staff who were excited and innovative.”

“That’s a bold move. What empowered you to take such a big leap?” Carmen asked.

“Is it corny if I say the woman sitting next to me?” Logan chuckled.

“Oh Christ, stop,” you laughed.

“I mean it though!” Logan looked over at you fondly, his gaze soft before turning back to Carmen. “She has pushed me since the first day we met. And she’s supported me unconditionally all this time. I don’t think I’d have the courage to do half of what we’ve accomplished if I didn’t know I had her behind me.”

“The thing about Logan is that he’s incredibly driven. If he wants to accomplish something, he puts his mind to it and he does it. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” You squeezed above his knee, feeling an incredible swell of pride in your chest. He really had some so far and worked so, so hard in the years you’d been together. It was hard not to feel proud and keep the tears from your eyes. Logan must have sensed what was going through your head because he leaned over to press a quick kiss to your temple, just something light to ground you, remind you he had your back too.

“Once John and I had cleared everyone out, that left us with four employees. Which wasn’t going to work, clearly. But lucky for me, my beautiful wife is also an entrepreneur,” Logan smiled.

“Yes. I’d owned my own marketing firm and really, it just made sense at that point kind of merge the two companies.” You nodded.

“We brought marketing in house and took on her staff and bought her business in exchange for ownership shares. Now, Delos is a three owner operation,” Logan grinned. It was important to both of you that you not work for Logan, but rather with him. “Her old assistant became our office manager and is now in charge of day-to-day operations. My sister and brother in law, Emily and Elliot, moved out to LA from Milwaukee and headed up talent management and recruiting. They helped us fill in the other vacancies left.”

“So, it really is a family affair, huh?” Carmen asked, looking between the two of you.

“I think we’ve both learned how important it is to keep a tight circle of people you can trust. These are people we’ve known our entire lives, that are the very best at what they do, and are unwaveringly loyal.” You looked at Logan, who nodded in agreement. “Saying ‘yes’ to everything and being loyal aren’t the same thing. And I think that’s something that previous ownership never understood.”

“Damn right,” Logan affirmed with a crooked smile, his eyes still trained on you.

“I think ‘power couple’ doesn’t even come close to describing you two! It’s been amazing as someone who watches the market and businesses to see Delos rise from the ashes into this juggernaut that it is today.” Carmen seemed genuinely impressed and a bit enamored by you and Logan.

“It was a lot of long nights and hard work. But we like to think it’s been worth it, right?” You asked Logan.

“It’s all been worth it. Everything.”

---

About a month later, you were curled up on the couch, totally zoning out as an episode of Real Housewives of Potomac played. Sleep was weighing heavy on your eyelids when the front door opened and shut again. Finally, Logan was home which meant you now had your favorite pillow to fall asleep on. You listened to him set down his keys, hang up his jacket in the closet, and grab himself a San Pellegrino before wandering into the living room.

“Happy you’re home,” you said with a sleepy smile, reaching out your arms to beckon him over.  

“Happy to be home,” Logan laughed and took his normal spot in the corner, legs sprawled out on the chaise, and quickly scooped you into his arms. You settled in his lap and gave him a kiss hello, an I missed you kiss, an I’m so happy to see you kiss. “Got a surprise for you,” he murmured against your lips.

“Yeah?” you asked, running your fingers through his dark hair. From over the side of the couch, he pulled out a copy of the newest Forbes magazine with a proud flourish. “Oh lord.”

“Page 71,” he directed, handing it over to you. And sure enough, there you two were, front and center, with every important member of your team, and family, behind you. There was something uncomfortable about seeing your own face on a glossy page, but the picture really was nice of the whole group. Logan radiated confidence and power, his arm securely around you in a way that said I wish you would try to fuck with us.

“It sure is…published,” you laughed.

“You look so fucking beautiful. I can’t wait to get this blown up and hang it in the lobby,” he mused, looking over your shoulder at the write up.

“For real?”

“I think it’s a great picture! It should be the first thing anyone sees when they come in the office, don’t you think?” Logan placed a tender kiss on your shoulder.

“I suppose.” You still weren’t entirely convinced, but it was also impossible for you to say no to Logan. You handed the open magazine back to him and let your head rest against his shoulder. “Read it to me?”

“Of course, princess,” he chuckled and raised the article into his line of sight, starting in on the story you knew and lived. Your eyes slipped shut as you let the sound of Logan’s voice and his heartbeat comfort you and lull you into a peaceful sleep.

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