#someone snap me out of it!...no time for my bs!!!

[gilded-ghosts]

Premade Makeover: Caleb Vatore circa 1975!

[gemharvest]

How many times can I go "I feel like ass but it's fine I'll be fine" until it becomes hollow to everyone around me. BHASJGFNJFGNK

[loregoddess]

you know, for the most part my asthma is very under control and not too much of a bother, but heavens forbid some dust gets blown around by high winds and then I get sick with a chest cold bc my immune system was too busy causing allergies over the dust instead of doing its actual job and then I can barely go up or down a flight of stairs without losing my breath

[quiet-onset]

fever pitch

pairing: michael berzatto x reader

wc: 12.1k+, somebody sedate me

summary: an assortment of your time with michael berzatto

warnings: no use of yn, smut, so minors dni!!!, unprotected sex, sex under the influence, by ext. dubcon since reader is unaware at the time, oral (f receiving), drug use and addiction (character and reader), canonical character death/suicide mention, pregnancy mention (sorry not sorry), please do not read if any of this is triggering for you!!

a/n: beta’d by @brattylyricist bc she has no other choice than to put up with my bs!! also bc the content matter here is triggering and i have personal experience seeing the damage that addiction can do to someone you love, I’m including national hotline phone numbers here. please don’t be afraid to seek help if you need it: national suicide prevention hotline: dial/text 988, substance abuse and mental health services administration: 1-800-662-HELP. again, please do not read this if any of the warnings are triggering for you!!!

The day went by in a blur. You got up, showered, did your hair and makeup. You ate the little breakfast you could stomach. You put on an acceptable black dress and matching high heels.

You drove to the church — tried to sit in the back, but Sugar pulled you to the front pew, right next to her. You stood behind the lectern and said kind, loving words. You drove to the cemetery and watched as his casket was lowered into the cold. And you went to the repass, doing your best to stay out of Donna’s way, knowing how she gets when she’s both sad and under pressure. 

But you hadn’t cried.

You sat on the stairs with your wine glass filled with water as everyone mingled, exchanging condolences about your dearly departed. You let your heart ache as you downed the glass, stories of him being told by this person and that.

But you still hadn’t cried.

Donna burst out of the kitchen, her hair a bit disheveled and eyes red from crying. “Have you seen Carmy?”

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh. It must have been the seventh time she had asked. “No, Donna, I have not seen Carmy.”

“What a fuckin’ help you are.” She snapped, pulling a box of cigarettes from her apron. With her other hand, she snatched your empty wine glass and turned on her heel. “I do all this work, and I can’t even go outside to smoke.”

You followed close behind, huffing as you stood. “I thought Sugar was with you.”

“Sugar is with her.” The middle child interrupted. She gave you a weak, empathetic smile when you entered the kitchen behind Donna. A wine glass of her own in hand as she sat on the kitchen counter, she sipped on red wine. “But Sugar can’t cook.”

“Not like Carmy, you can’t. Get your ass off my fuckin’ counter, shoo!” Donna swatted at her daughter’s thigh until she hopped off the counter, snatching her half full wine glass as well. She downed the wine in a couple seconds, and you and Sugar shot each other a look. It was passing, but you both understood the meaning — Donna needed a break.

“She doesn’t have to cook, Donna. Just watch everything. Keep an eye on it, y’know?” You tried to intervene but she was having none of it.

“I don’t need an eye. I need hands! I need someone who can cook!” Donna threw the glasses into the sink, and you flinched when they shattered against the metal. “Fuck!”

“I’ll do it, Donna.” From the shakiness in her hands, you know she’s so close to losing it. To taking everything in the kitchen and throwing it on the ground, at the wall, at whoever she deemed worthy of having something thrown at them. “I know I’m not Carmy, but I’m better than Sug.”

“Hey!” Sugar sounded defensive, but you and Donna barely paid her any mind.

“You can’t fuckin’ cook, Sugar, get over it.” Her mother snapped. “I’d normally have Mikey do it, but he—”

“Ma.” You gently placed your hands on Donna’s shoulders, and a bit of the tension fell from them. You hadn’t called her that in a long time — it no longer felt right — but doing so made her recall happier times. You looked her in the eye, reassured her. “You go outside and smoke. I’ll take over for a few minutes, okay?”

Her eye twitched ever so slightly, and she was still shaking, but you could tell it grounded her a bit. “If everything else goes to shit, make sure the fish is good, alright?”

“Save the fish. Got it.”

Donna nodded, pulling a cigarette out of the box. Then she finally walked toward the exit of  the kitchen, twirling it in her hand. Just before she left, she glanced at you again, her voice shaky. “You.. you would’ve been good for him. If he’d let you.”

When Donna left, there were tears in your eyes. Sugar watched to see if you’d need comfort, especially after one of those tears fell from your eye. But you were quick to wipe it away, taking a deep, shuddering breath. You turned to Sugar, gesturing toward the sink filled with broken glass. “Could you…?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She was quick to do so, grabbing a paper bag to put shards in. You both worked in a comfortable silence. The only sound was the clinking of glass against each other. Sugar battled over whether she wanted to speak, but she figured if she needed kind words, then you definitely did. “Ma’s right, y’know. Michael lo—”

“Sug. Please.”

“Okay.”

There was a pause as you stirred a pot of stew, then you sighed. “I know he did. As much as he could anyway.”

—

Michael met you on a sober streak. He’d been clean for three weeks, the longest stint thus far. When Richie found out about his addiction, he dragged Michael to Narcotics Anonymous. You’re gonna die cooking at the restaurant or doing something cool, not fuckin’ OD, Richie had sneered in the car.

He sat in a chair, his arms crossed over his chest, grumbling like a child. Despite being sober for three weeks, he maintained that he didn’t need to come to these meetings. To Michael, this was just proof that he could quit whenever he wanted to. Regardless, Richie drove him to every meeting and planned to do so until he seemed ready to go on his own.

The host of the meeting, Brayden, greeted Michael with a kind smile, but he responded with a grunt. For three weeks, Michael sat silently in that circle and said absolutely nothing. He wondered what it took to get the man to speak, but of course, he’d never pressure anyone to share before they were ready.

Then you walked in. You seemed a bit more put together than others in the room, but still a bit shy. An oversized sweater wrapped around your frame, and you pulled it even closer, eyes glancing around the room. You nodded a greeting to Brayden before sitting in the circle across from Michael. When you noticed him glancing your way, you offered a friendly smile, and he returned it.

He knew then that he’d return to his weekly NA meetings.

The session started shortly after, but Michael was only half listening. He was mostly glancing back and forth from whoever was speaking to you. He liked the way you gave your full attention to every person who spoke, even when they said things you didn’t agree with — he could tell when you didn’t, a little crease would form for the briefest moment between your brows. But it always disappeared, and your attentive expression returned. 

“Alright, would anyone else like to speak? Someone new maybe?” Brayden asked, quickly glancing at Michael.

He’d never admit it, but his heart was pounding at the idea of airing out his dirty laundry to a group of strangers. He took a deep, nervous breath, but then another voice spoke up.

“I’ll go.” You said, watching the relief wash over Michael’s face. You cleared your throat, pulling your sweater closer as you introduced yourself. “I was in a car accident two years ago. It, uh, it killed my son… That plus divorce plus prescribed oxy apparently equals addiction.”

The slightly playful lilt in your tone made Michael chuckle quietly, though you both knew nothing was funny. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat. Still, you continued, “I’ve been sober for two months, but my son’s birthday is coming up in a few months, so I, uh, needed a meeting. But yeah, that’s my story.”

After the meeting, you stood by the snack table, nursing a cup of coffee. Michael approached cautiously as he poured his own coffee. “Can I ask what his name was?”

You looked up from your paper cup into warm brown eyes. “Sorry?”

“Your son?”

“Oh.” You paused, and your heart sank at the reminder that your baby was gone. “His name was Benson.”

He snorted into his coffee cup, trying to hide his quiet laugh by clearing his throat. You noticed the light in his eyes, and it inexplicably made a smile pull at your lips too. “Sorry.” He said. “Benson’s a great name.”

“It’s a dorky name. Dorky first name, anyways. It’s what his father wanted.” You confirmed with a chuckle. “But it was my son’s name. So I liked it.”

“Course.” He smiled at you kindly. He was charming, and you liked it. “I’m Michael, by the way.”

You gave him your name and shook his hand. You went against your better judgment and invited him to your place. You both spent all night wrapped in your sheets, in each other’s embrace. He left for work the next morning but not before getting your phone number. 

You texted Michael and arranged to meet up again that night. Then, you called your sponsor. 

That was the beginning of the end.

—

“Cousin, your girlfriend’s here!”

“Not his girlfriend, Richie.”

“Not yet.”

“Send her back!” Michael’s voice floated in from the back of the kitchen.

You sidestepped Richie and walked through the kitchen, saying your hellos to everyone. “Where’s he at?” You asked.

“The office.” Tina answered, lightly nudging you in his direction. “He’s not having the best day.”

You nodded your understanding and proceeded to the small office where Michael was leaning back in his chair, hand over his face as he spoke into his cell phone. “No, I just don’t understand why we keep talking about the same shit.”

You leaned against the doorframe, giving him a small smile. He gave you the tiniest acknowledgment, a small wave, before spinning around in the chair to face the wall. You scoffed jokingly, closing the door behind you, “Well, fuck me, I guess.”

“Carmy, you’re a big shot in some fancy, five-star, European restaurant, what the fuck do you wanna be here for?” He asked exasperatedly. There’s a short pause, mumbling from the other side of the phone before Mikey throws a hand in the air. “Five star, three star, who gives a shit? Look, Carmen, you’re doing big things, good things. Stay in Europe. I gotta go.”

When Michael hung up, a long, tired sigh racked his body. “This would be a perfect time for—”

“One month.” You interrupted. You knew all too well where his mind was headed. He was spiraling into that dark, secluded state of mind you’d found him in just a few weeks after you met. He’d relapsed after a particularly hard day at the restaurant, something about finances and paying back a loan that he refused to tell you more about. But you’d helped him then. Picked him up, dusted him off, and called his sponsor — Started him back on the path of sobriety again. If you could help it, he’d never reach that lonely place again. 

“One month.” He repeated to himself. Then, he spun around. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You walked over to him, standing between his spread legs. He immediately rested his forehead on your belly, groaning when you carded a hand through his hair. Your other hand rubbed circles into his back, the tense muscles a sharp contrast to his soft black locks. “I take it that was your brother?”

He grunted affirmatively. “Keeps askin’ to work here.”

“At The Beef?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, isn’t he a professional chef? Why don’t you let him?”

“C’mon, sweetheart, you’re supposed to be on my side.” He grumbled, pulling you down to sit on his thigh. 

“I am on your side.” You chuckled. You took your thumb and rubbed gently at the spot between his eyes until the frustrated crease disappeared. “‘M just saying, he’s a trained chef, this is a restaurant. I don’t get what’s not adding up for you, baby.”

Michael sighed, looking up at you. He brushed a stray hair from your face and smiled up at you. You smiled back encouragingly, patiently waiting until he found the right words. “Carm doesn’t know.” He admitted.

“Carm doesn’t know…?”

“About the painkillers. And I don’t know if I’m ready to tell him.” His brow furrowed once more, making you frown. “I mean, he’s got three Michelin stars. The kid’s a fuckin’ genius in the kitchen — he doesn’t need to be around all this shit, all my shit.”

You let his words sink in, deep in thought as you stroked his hair. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you thought about all the stories Mikey and Richie told you about the youngest Berzatto. How he could be quiet and unassuming, but, with a little encouragement, always came out of his shell around family and friends. Maybe, for Carmen, it wasn’t about the restaurant.

“Maybe he just wants to see you.” You said pensively. “I mean it’s been how long since he’s been home?”

A scoff passed Michael’s lips. “A long fuckin’ time.”

“Maybe the restaurant is a pretense. I mean, he would come work at The Beef and stuff, but maybe he just wants to see you again. Hang out with his big brother like he used to.”

His thumb stroked your thigh as he looked at you, silently admired the way you seem to come in and make all his problems melt away with a single thought, a word, a smile. “What about the whole bein’ an addict part?” He asked.

“You don’t have to tell him right away.” You suggested. “Baby steps.”

“You are too fuckin’ good to me, y’know that?” He grinned back at you. When you rolled your eyes playfully, he pinched your side, making you jolt and laugh. 

You pulled his arm around your waist, settling your hands at the nape of his neck. “So, you’re letting your brother work at the restaurant?”

“How ‘bout we just start with a visit, hm? I’ll tell him to come home for a week or somethin’, stay at mine.” He compromised. “Baby steps.”

“Oh, I’m so proud of you.” You cooed playfully, pinching his stubbly cheeks. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He swatted your hands away, leaning forward to press wet kisses to the column of your neck. He smirked as you suddenly ceased your pinching, bracing your hands on his shoulders. “You should let me return the favor, sweetheart.”

“Not in your office!” You gasped when he bit down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder before soothing it with his tongue. 

“Why not?” He chuckled, lifting you onto his desk. He probably should have been a little more worried about his records and papers getting folded under the swell of your ass, but all he could focus on was the small strip of fabric covering the part of you he wanted to devour. “Wouldn’t you prefer I be addicted to my girl than painkillers?”

“That’s not, ah,” You jolted above him, the sensation of his thumb pressing into your sensitive clit knocking you back to your elbows, “That’s not funny, Mikey.”

“What’s Brayden say?” He muttered, pulling your panties to the side. His fingers expertly tugs your lips apart, and he pressed a soft teasing kiss to your hood-covered button. “Humor’s my coping mechanic.”

“M-mechanism.” The correction came out in a soft moan. Just then, his words hit you — his girl. He’d never said that before. All the times you’d kissed, made out, had sex, he’d never called you his girl. You liked the way it sounded, the way it rolled off his tongue effortlessly. “Your girl?”

“Yeah.” He pulled away, his hands finding your calves as he looked at you. His brown irises held the tiniest bit of vulnerability in them, an emotion reserved for you and you only. “I mean, if you wanna be. Do you?”

You smiled and encircled his wrists, tenderly stroking his skin with your thumbs. It was a simple touch, but it made the hairs on his arm stand at attention. Strange how you always managed to do that. “Of course I do.”

“Good.” He exhaled. His large hands slid up your inner thighs, pausing at your core. With a gentle touch, he tugged your folds apart, watching the way your entrance fluttered. His mouth dropped open, and he let his saliva drip down onto your pussy, rubbing it into your clit with the pad of his thumb. “Now, get comfy, sweetheart, ‘cause I missed this pretty little pussy.”

—

“Where is it? Where is it? Where the fuck is it?”

You’d torn your apartment apart. Old storage boxes that gathered dust were now open and emptied. Your clothes were thrown all over the place. You managed to push the couch and check the floor, but you found nothing but crumbs and linty hair ties. 

Tears started to blur your vision, and your chest felt heavy, like the entire world sat directly on your lungs. Your breath was just as shaky as your hands that tugged at the roots of your hair. You ran to your mess of a kitchen and scrambled for your phone, typing the familiar number from memory.

Your ex-husband answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Where’s Eli?” You heard him call your name, but his confusion was the last thing on your mind. “Benson’s stuffed cow, Eli. Where is it? I can’t find it.”

He sighed, his voice lower and more scratchy than you remembered. He must’ve been crying, too, you thought. “How am I supposed to know?”

“You helped me move out. Did you take it? I swear to god—”

“I didn’t take the damn cow.” He snapped. “Do you think I’m that selfish that I would keep it from you?”

“I didn’t call to rehash our marriage, alright? I need Eli, okay? I need him.”

The line went silent. You both knew you weren’t talking about the stuffed animal anymore. He let out a deep breath. “Have you tried therapy?”

“I don’t need to pay a bunch of money to have someone tell me I need to get over the death of our child.” You hissed, scrunching your nose at the suggestion. 

“Have you been to his grave?”

You wiped your tears away, thinking about the cold, unfeeling stone that solidified your son’s death. You hadn’t seen it since the funeral. You took a shaky breath, “Do you have Eli or not?”

“I don’t.”

He tried to speak once more, but you already hung up. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe without this one piece of your son. Tears dropped onto your phone screen as you scrolled and scrolled through your contacts, finding the name you were looking for. The line rang three times before a deep voice greeted you. “What’s up?”

“I need to see you. Where can we meet?”

Hours later, Michael was walking toward his apartment building with Carmy. He’d been purposefully avoiding bringing up The Beef, and luckily Carmy didn’t push. Instead, his little brother decided to bring up the little stuffed animal that Michael had pushed into his jacket pocket. “So,” Carmy started quietly, “You startin’ a collection with that thing or…?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Michael laughed. He pulled the stuffed cow out of his pocket. “It’s my girl’s. Remember I told you about her son?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes she likes to talk to me about him. She brought this over to my place a few weeks ago to show me. Apparently, the kid was obsessed with cows.”

“No shit. Look at you, bein’ vulnerable.” Carmy chuckled in amazement, admiring his brother’s new relationship.

“Yeah, whatever. The, uh, anniversary of his death is coming up, and she’ll probably be wanting this, so you can meet her while you’re here if she’s feeling up to it. Sound good?”

“‘F course.”

When Michael unlocked the front door, he was met with chaos. The front door banged into the coat closet door, somehow left open with coats strewn across the floor. The rug in his living room was flipped over, and the couch was now far from the wall. Michael was only brought back to reality by the stunned woah that passed through Carmy’s lips.

Somehow, Michael knew. He wasn’t a mind reader, but he remembered that feeling. A feeling that bubbled in the pit of his stomach, traveling throughout his body until it pounded at his head. It was dread, hopelessness, not knowing how he’d find the strength to take another breath. He knew, and he needed to help you.

“Di-Did someone break into your house or something?” Carmy asked, closing the door behind him.

“Just stay here for a second, little brother, okay?” Michael’s voice was dismissive, preoccupied, as he followed the trail of despair into the kitchen.

And there you sat. Red eyes, swollen from crying. Head lulling from side to side and your heart almost numb enough to keep the darkness from creeping in and making a home, uninvited,  in the hole of your chest. Your arms circled around your knees that you’d drawn up to your chest, hugging them close. Maybe, if you squeezed hard enough, you could stop grieving and move on.

Michael approached slowly, like you were a wounded animal. “Baby?”

“I couldn’t stop myself.”

“We don’t have to—”

“Please don’t hate me.”

He crouched down in front of you, steadied your head with a firm hand on your cheek. His warm, calloused skin helped to ground the thoughts in your fuzzy head. He looked you in the eyes, bold and sincere, just as you had when he relapsed. “I could never hate you. Never, you hear me?”

You paused for a moment before trying to explain. “I couldn’t find Eli, and I just- I started going fucking crazy—”

“Eli?” He asked, pulling the stuffed cow from his pocket. “Sweetheart, I have Eli. You left him the time you came over a couple weeks ago, and I was gonna take him back to yours.”

Michael thought the knowledge would console you, warm your heart enough to give him just the tiniest hint of a smile. But you just threw your head back frustratedly, the impact against the wall causing a dull pain to crash through the back of your skull. “Fuck.”

“Baby, why—”

“I’m so stupid.”

“You’re no—”

Tears gathered once more. “If I had just called you… I’m an idiot.”

“Hey,” He regained your attention, this time with both hands holding your face steady. “You’re not stupid. You’re not an idiot. You just made a mistake, ‘s all.”

“I fucking relapsed, Michael.”

“I’ve relapsed, and look at me, huh? Picture of a healthy, law-abiding citizen.”

“Michael.”

“You’ll start over. Just like I did. Here, give me your phone.” You dug around in your pocket and pulled out your phone, handing it to him. He turned the screen toward you so you could watch as he scrolled through your contacts until he found your dealer’s name. Then, with zero hesitation, he blocked the number. “See? Good as new, yeah?”

If tears could show your appreciation, you’d have cried an ocean’s worth. But the most you could do was throw your heavy arms around his shoulders and press a chaste kiss to the base of his neck. To you, nothing you could ever do or say would be enough, but to Mikey? If he could take your burdens and make them his own, carry the weight of your world on his back, he’d do it without a second thought. Your appreciation wasn’t needed — only your love. And he knew he had that.

“Uh, Mikey?” Carmen’s voice called from the living room. “What the fuck is this?”

Michael reluctantly untangled himself from you for a moment, signaling for you to stay quiet. But you knew what was in there — you’d left the needle on his coffee table. Immediately, you could hear Mikey try to calm his brother down. “Carmen, it’s not what you think.”

“You sure? ‘Cause that looks like a fuckin’ needle. Jesus Christ, are you—”

“I’m not high, Carm, just listen for a second.”

“Listen to what?” His voice got louder, more angry. “Michael, are you fuckin’ serious? You know this family has… issues and this is what you do? Fucking shit!”

“Hey, relax, alright? You’re making a big deal out of nothin’.”

“Nothing? If you’re getting high, it is a big deal. A huge fuckin’ deal.” Carm pushed his brother on the chest, hoping it’ll knock some sense into him. And Michael, he just curled his fists, restraining himself. The last thing he wanted was to lose control on his own brother. Carmen took a step toward, pointing one accusatory finger.

But before he could get a word out, a small voice, your voice, stopped him. “It’s not his.”

Icy blue eyes met yours as he took in your disheveled frame. You stood in the entrance of the living room, leaning against the threshold to hold yourself up. The high was starting to wear off a little, but you still felt the lingering effects. You tried to give him a smile, but a weary sigh passed through your lips. “Hi Carmen. I’m sorry, this isn’t how I wanted to meet you.”

Carmen looked back and forth from you to Michael. His eyes narrowed as his breath started to even out, confusion replacing anger. “You’re the girlfriend, yeah?” He finally asked, confirming your name.

You nodded, gauging his reaction as he let it all sink in. “I had been sober for a while, so I asked your brother not to say anything. But today was- today was hard.”

“Right,” The younger brother nodded, finally taking a step back and pushing his hands deep into his pockets. “Uh, sorry for your loss, by the way.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“So, Michael isn’t… he’s not using…?” He knew the words, knew the question he wanted to ask. But he was so afraid, so terrified of what the answer might be.

You knew the answer. It would have been less than savory, admitting that Michael was also an addict and had relapsed more than once since you met. The truth was potentially earth-shattering for Carmen and Michael alike. You glanced over at Michael, at how he hid the fear from his eyes. Still, you see it. In the way his hand flexed at his side, and how he refused to look in your direction. It’s almost like he knew what was coming if you told the truth, that he might have lost his brother for good. 

That fear broke your heart. So, you lied. Took your blame and a little on the side. “No. No, just me.”

You excused yourself back to the kitchen to hide your tears. You hugged Eli close, burying the stuffed animal under your nose.

It smelled like Michael.

—

That fucking fork. 

Fuck forks. Fuck Christmas dinner. Fuck all seven fishes. Fuck Pete’s eighth fish. And, above all, fuck Michael.

Chaos ensued after Michael gave in to his self-destructive tendencies. He all but flipped the table over in an effort to fight. Fak was making sure Sugar and Pete got out unscathed. Carmy practically begged his mother to stay out of it, and she only relented when her eldest son started making taunting braying noises — she retreated to the kitchen with a cigarette and the bottle of merlot in hand.

You gave up trying to help Michael calm down when he wretched himself from your grip, nearly knocking you into a wall in the process. Richie rushed over to help steady you, and Carmy, over all the chaos, called your name, “Yo, are you alright?”

“Peachy.” You called back sarcastically, rubbing your sore arm.

Carmen then turned his attention to his brother. “Michael, shut the fuck up for two seconds, for fuck’s sake! If you don’t calm down, you’re gonna hurt someone!”

“Kinda the point, little brother.” Michael’s eye twitched as he glared at Lee. He tried once more to push past Jimmy to no avail.

“Yeah? Was hurting your girl part of the point, smartass?”

Michael turned to you, the anger in his eyes slowly overtaken with concern. He hadn’t meant to push you; he didn’t even know you were one of the people trying to hold him back. But that didn’t take back his actions. Your gaze went cold as you pulled away from Richie, pushing Michael hard on the chest. “I’m not his fucking girl anymore.”

Then, you hightailed it out of the house. Everyone went silent as you peeled out of the driveway, rubber squealing against pavement.

Richie watched Michael carefully, noticing how his brow furrowed and his chest heaved. He took a step toward him and dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Mikey,” Richie warned, “Don’t do anything stupid.” Michael pulled away and stomped his way up the stairs, leaving Richie to call after his best friend from the dining room. 

Over Richie’s voice, Carmen could hear his mother sobbing in the kitchen followed by the soft glug of wine as she turned the bottle up. And immediately, he followed after his older brother. Richie tried to stop him, “Cousin, he just needs a minute.”

“Yeah, just a minute?” Carmen replied dismissively. “Fuck off, cousin, he’s not a baby.”

He pushed open every door looking for Mikey. Finally, he came upon one door that wouldn’t budge, locked from the inside. Carmy pounded on the bathroom door. “Yo, what the fuck was that?”

“Go away, Carmen.” Mikey paced the bathroom floor, hands pulling at the roots of his hair. He wished he had an answer for his brother, but he came up short. Maybe it was pride, or ego, or his innate tendency to self-destruct, he couldn’t choose. So he just paced the floor, avoiding the sight of his own reflection.

“Mikey, you need to go downstairs and fix this shit, alright?” Carmy continued. “Ma’s drinking herself stupid, Sug’s a mess, your girl just fuckin’ left, c’mon man.”

“Hey, you think I don’t know that?” The older brother hissed.

He braced himself on the sink, finally looking up into the mirror. He looked disheveled, angry. His hair was messy from pulling at it, and the whites of his eyes had a red tint to them. One prominent vein pulsed in his forehead, and suddenly, the need set in. 

His head is fuzzy, brain pounding at his skull. So many thoughts, too many, clouding his head. He lifted his hand to push away a few strands of his hair, limp with sweat, and he realized that his hand was shaking. Even as he closed his fingers into a fist, it trembled like an earthquake. He blinked hard, eyes scrambling as he tried to think of a quick solution, a way to gather himself before he faced his little brother again.

Carmy was quiet as he started to think maybe he should have listened to Richie. “Mikey?”

No answer.

“Mikey, look, I’m sorry—”

The door flung open, and Carmy studied him. His hair was pushed back. His eyes were red, but Carmy assumed Mikey must’ve been crying. Everything seemed right, but there was something he couldn’t place. Something about his big brother that was very wrong. “Nothing to be sorry for, Carm.” Michael told him, one big hand on his shoulder. “I gotta go.”

When Michael started booking it downstairs, Carmy was quick on his trail. “Wait, go? Go where?”

Michael responded with a call of your name, “Gotta make sure she’s good.”

Carmy ran a hand through his golden brown locks as he followed his older brother out the front door. Their sister noticed the argument and followed them out the door, “Whoa, hey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, Sug, go back inside.” Michael stopped for the briefest moment to turn around and place a kiss on his sister’s forehead.

“He’s leavin’.” Carmy sighed frustratedly.

“He’s leaving?” Sugar turned to Michael. “You’re leaving?”

“Fuckin’ snitch.” Michael mumbled under his breath. He squeezed Sug’s arm with a tight smile, “I’m just goin’ to find my girl, okay? I’ll be back, I promise.”

“How are you even going to find her?” Carm scoffed.

“You know her password, right?” Sug asked her eldest brother. “I wouldn’t normally say this, but you could track her phone. Here, give me yours.”

“What about Ma?” Carmy threw his arms up in defeat. Michael was the one who started all that mess, and now that it was time to pick up the pieces, where did he go? Chasing you. Like always, Carm thought to himself. “You’re the only one who can get through to her when she’s all…” He waved his hands around as if the devastating words he was looking for would magically appear.

“Well, you’re home, ain’t you? She missed you — just sit with her till I get back, alright? I gotta go.”

And just as quickly Mikey was off too, running toward the closest train station.

If there were ever a time for oxy, that would’ve been it. But instead, you drove and drove and drove until the tank was damn near empty. You pulled into a parking lot and called your sponsor. She talked you down, persuading you to delete your dealer’s contact information in your phone. When the long conversation was over, you were still angry, furious even, but you’d at least lost interest in relapsing.

Knock knock knock.

You jumped in the driver’s seat when calloused knuckles tapped on the car window. Michael wasted no time in starting an argument. “What the hell were you thinkin’, leavin’ like that?” He yelled, voice only slightly muffled by the barrier.

“How did you even find me?”

“Sugar showed me how to track your phone.”

“You tracked my phone?”

“Open the fuckin’ door.”

You pushed the door open and got out of the car, deciding your best course of action would be to walk away from him. “Leave me alone, Michael.”

“Where are you goin’?” He was quick to follow you as you walked down the street, just a few strides behind.

“Leave me alone.”

“What’s the plan here, huh?” He asked. “You just gonna keep walkin’ till your feet fall off?”

“No, just till I’m away from you, Michael.” You retorted coldly.

“Hey, stop calling me that.”

“That’s your name!”

“Not to you! To you it’s Mikey, or baby, or my love, not fuckin’ Michael!”

“Fuck you, Michael!” You caught him off guard when you spun around, poking your index finger into his chest. “You couldn’t just let it be. You had to ruin Christmas for the whole fucking family!”

“Why do you care so much, huh?”

“Why do I— Jesus, do you even hear yourself? You do nothing but ruin shit for yourself for no goddamn reason! No one forced you to throw that fork!”

Michael scoffed and ran his hand over his lips, his warm breath evaporating into the cold air as he raised his voice again. “So we’re gonna pretend that’s why you’re upset? Because of the fork?”

“I’m upset because you ruined any chance at having a good Christmas with our family!”

“They’re not our fuckin’ family.” He laughed, though no traces of humor could be found in his eyes. “They’re mine! Okay? I’m the fuckin’ Berzatto, not you.”

Your eyes widened at his words. You parted your lips to retort, but he just kept going, slicing your heart in two with expert precision.

“You wanna act like the- the chaos bothers you, but you thrive on that shit — You’re just in a shitty mood because you miss your own family, and now that you can’t replace them with mine, you want some fuckin’ oxy to ease the pain, ain’t that right?”

Smack!

You’d never hit Michael before, never wanted to. Like any couple, you had your share of fights and passive aggressive comments. One thing you two never did, though, was weaponize your addictions against each other. It was an unsaid invisible line that had never been crossed until now. Michael Berzatto, the man you loved more than life itself, had never been so mean. At least not to you. 

It happened faster than you expected, your small hand reaching up and slapping across his stubbly cheek. He just stood there, eyes dark and slightly angry, but you weren’t afraid. You were furious, hot tears filling your eyes. “Fuck you.”

You slapped him again. And again. Then, you beat on his chest with your fists. Michael started trying to swat your hands away, but when that proved ineffective, he caught your wrists in his hands, yanking you into a nearby alley, away from the night’s few prying eyes. 

“Stop, stop.” He grunted when you landed another smack to his head, finally pinning you up against the nearby brick wall by your wrists. “Stop.”

“I hate you.” You spat.

“No, you don’t.”

You continued to fight against his grip, but he was strong and steady, keeping you in place as you continued to tell him how much you despise him. He knew he was wrong, but he refused to say it. After all the shit that went down that night with his family, with you, he felt like he was going crazy. It was like he was abandoned in the middle of the ocean in a boat with a tiny hole. And even though the hole was small, it was so methodically cut that water was pouring in like a faucet, and the boat was sinking. So he grabbed onto the only lifeline he was certain would be there: you.

You, with the most beautiful eyes that were now filled with angry tears. You, the hero of all his dreams and the victim in all his nightmares. You, whose heart was so broken, so crumbled when he met you, yet still managed to love him with all your being.

He loved you. 

It all hit him at once, and he gently pressed his lips to yours. You turned your head away from him, rasping out your hatred once more. “I hate you.”

“You don’t.” His voice was deep and rough, but the tone was soft. Was he even talking to you?

“Yes, I fucking do.”

His lips trailed across your jawline, wet kisses placed on his path. “No, you don’t.”

You hated how easily he was able to do this to you, like pushing a button. You were supposed to be angry with him. You were angry with him. But your body didn’t care about the argument. Your body slowly gave up the fight against his grip, wanting the heat that his touch produced, your emotions be damned. A few tears fell from your eyes just as a soft moan slipped past your lips, an instinctive response to the way Michael’s body pressed yours against the wall, his growing length pressed into your hip. 

He slipped a leg between yours, pushing his denim-covered thigh into your pussy. You could feel a wave of arousal soaking your panties. “You’re mean, Michael.”

“I know, baby. I know.” He admitted quietly.

He used his grip on your wrists to gently pull your hands to your breasts. He pressed your hands in before covering them with his own, helping you knead the sensitive flesh. Even beneath your layers, you could feel his touch, and it made you whimper. His deft thumb ran over your hardening nipples, and a soft groan tumbled from his lips. “Just let me make you feel good.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you noted his acknowledgement. And his lack of apology.

He kept up his movements, moving your hands to squeeze your breasts, pressing his thigh into your weeping pussy. Somewhere along the way, your hips began to rock back and forth on him. His brown eyes never left yours, even as you cried. It was strange, how your heart hurt so badly that tears fell freely down your face, but your body was pushed closer and closer to the edge.

Still, you gasped for breath as the pleasure began to creep out of your core. “Mi- Mikey,” You moaned. “Please!”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, baby. Let it all out.”

And it all came out at once, sobs pushing past your lips as euphoria crashed over your body in waves. You clenched around nothing, head tipping back to hit the brick wall. But you never felt the cold brick — one of Michael’s hands left your breast to cup the back of your head, the protective gesture juxtaposing the unending push of his thigh into your pussy to help ride out your orgasm.

Even as your orgasm faded away, your hips continued to buck against him. Your hands found a new home on his broad chest, trailing down, down, down until you felt the leather of his brown  belt. You wasted no time in unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans, sliding the zipper down so you could easily reach into his briefs and pull his cock out. He moaned at your firm grasp, hips bucking into your touch.

Everything moved much quicker now, more desperate than before. You stroked his cock, spreading his precum along the shaft. His forehead pressed against yours as he stared at the way your smaller hand worked him over, twisting over the head on every downward stroke. “Fuck, that’s good.” He groaned.

“Help me.” You whined needily as you thrust your hips against his thigh once more, hoping he’d get the message.

He nodded quickly, kneeling down in front of you. His big hands slide up your thighs under your jean skirt, flipping the rough fabric up over your belly. Your legs were covered by sheer black stockings, a layer of protection from the cold winter chill. But neither of you could bear to wait, to take them off properly. He tore a large hole in the crotch and pushed your panties to the side, muttering curses at how your arousal shone in the moonlight. 

“Perfect fuckin’ cunt, sweetheart.” He pushed his index finger through your swollen lips, collecting your juices before slipping into your twitching hole. “Can you take two for me?”

He didn’t bother to wait for an answer. He pushed his middle finger in on the second thrust, curving them to press on that spongy spot on your upper wall that you can never reach yourself. You cried out his name, and your back arched off the wall. His fingers were bigger than yours, thicker too, but they still didn’t fill you the way that you needed.

You whimpered when he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking firm and hard. “Want your cock, Mikey. Want- oh shit!”

Your orgasm was hard and unexpected, pulling you under before you could even tell him to fuck you. Your legs buckled, and you buried your hands in his thick, black hair to ground yourself. A muffled moan came from between your legs when you tugged on the roots, trying to pull him off your sensitive clit.

He finally relented, pulling away from you and pushing his fingers, soaked in you, into his mouth. He licked them clean without hesitation, only stopping when you tugged on his wrist. You pulled him in by his shirt, kissing him. It was deep and passionate, proving what you both knew to be true.

You didn’t hate him. Maybe you wanted to, but you didn’t. Or maybe couldn’t is the better word.

He cupped your face with both his large hands, wiping away any remnants of tears from your earlier sobs. His tongue licked into your mouth as you moaned, tasting the sweet tang of your juices in his saliva. You reached down to stroke his cock again, and he crowded you closer to the wall. “Want you inside.” You whispered.

“I know, baby.”

His open jeans impeded his efforts to get closer to you, buttons, zipper, and belt now in the way. His hands hurried to push the waistband of his open jeans down and out, ignoring how the frosty air raised goosebumps on his skin. His belt buckle jingled loudly, and something clattered to the pavement, but you could only focus on getting him inside you. His hands returned to your face, making you keep your gaze on his.

You pushed his cock through your pussy lips, let your arousal messily coat his shaft until it was all over your inner thighs. Both your panting was the only thing you could hear over the wet sounds of his length sliding between your swollen lips. You whined when the head of his dick bumped against your clit. 

“Guide me in, sweetheart.” He told you, eyes locked on yours. “Take what you want.”

His head, already weeping with precum, nudged at your entrance, and you canted your hips up until the first few inches sunk inside. You lifted your leg around his hip in an attempt to take more of him, but it wasn’t enough on your own. Finally, he pressed forward, fully sheathing his cock within your soft walls. All the while, Michael held your face between his hands, gazing deep into your eyes as you whimpered. “There you are.” He groaned softly. “My girl.”

Your heart twisted at his words. How could he even say that? After saying the most vile things to you, what made him believe that you’d still be his? He nudged his hips forward a bit, and the tip just barely kissed your cervix, shooting a strange blend of pain and pleasure up your spine. You shook your head, hands grasping at his arms to steady yourself. “No, I… I- fuck, Mikey, I hate you so much.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” You moaned pathetically, still seething, angry enough to lie through your teeth just to give him a glimpse of the pain he caused you. Your nails dug into the thick fabric of his coat as he began to move, thrusting in and out of your cunt. The alley practically echoed with squelching sounds, and anyone walking by would know what was going on in those shadows. But neither of you could bring yourselves to care, lips falling apart as your sensitive walls clamped down on his length.

“You don’t fuckin’ say that to me.” He repeated with a grunt, leaving the tiniest pat on your cheek to regain the attention of your eyes rolling in pleasure. “You love me. Know you do. ‘S — shit, you’re so tight — ‘s the only thing I’m goddamn sure of, you hear me?”

One hand left your cheek to wrap around your thigh, pulling your leg higher around his hip. He thrusted again with renewed strength before looking down to where you both connected. The sight made the pit of his stomach flip deliciously: the slightly tanned base of his cock coated with a creamy white ring, little strands of your wetness dangling between you both when he dared to pull his hips away. “Fuckin’ takin’ my dick so well, baby.” He bit his lip, his voice sounding almost entranced. “Squeezin’ like you don’t want me to leave.”

“Good thing I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He continued, groaning when your hands slid up his back and into his hair. You pulled hard, and his thrusts faltered ever so slightly. His other hand left your cheek to brace himself against the wall, and his head fell into the crook of your neck, puffs of his hot breath warming your skin.

“You can’t keep doing this shit, M-Mikey. Can’t take your shit out on me.” You mewled as he adjusted his grip on you, pushing you closer to the wall. He left you no space to squirm when his hips started to move faster, his cock bullying its way in and out of your soft, puffy folds to nudge against the spongy spot on your upper wall. You cried out as that unique sensation shot pleasure to every nerve ending in your body, “Fuck, right there!”

“I got you, sweetheart, that’s it.” He responded in kind, adjusting his stance just right so he could drag the notch of his cockhead along your G-spot with every thrust. “Right there, yeah?”

“Oh my god, don’t stop. You’re gonna make me come!”

Michael lifted his head from your neck, meeting your eyes again. They were dark, glazed over, as he slowed his hips, still moving but not enough to finish you off. You felt his cock twitch inside you, and he knew it wouldn’t be long until he flooded your insides with his release, but he wanted to hear you say it: he wanted you to take back your words. “Say you don’t mean it.”

Your pussy fluttered around him in tandem with the whine spilling past your lips. “Mikey—”

“You don’t hate me. You love me. Say it.” He punctuated each sentence with a nudge against your G-spot, soft and tempting.

“N-no, you,” You heaved out a shuddering breath when his fingertips met your swollen clit, rubbing in tight, slow, torturous circles. “You’re being unfair. You- oh my god, yes - you can’t be n-nasty to me and—” 

“Just say it for me, baby.” He mumbled against your lips. He was practically begging you to take it back, but, of course, Michael Berzatto would never stoop to such lengths. So, he kept rubbing your clit and nudging your G-spot, punching the breath out of you with his thick cock. “Promise I’ll make you come. I’ll make it so fuckin’ good for you. Just need to hear it.”

And, of course, as you always did, you gave in. “I didn’t mean it.” You admitted breathlessly. “I love you.”

The tension visibly rolled off his shoulders as his head dropped to your breasts, pounding your cunt as you moaned beneath him. “Fuck, I love you, too, baby. Love you so fuckin’ much, it hurts.” He groaned into your skin.

“Mikey, ��m close!” You gasped, the assault on your cunt and clit too much to bear. 

“Wanna feel you squeeze my cock, sweetheart.” He huffed, nails digging into your thighs, your stockings providing no refuge from the dull pain. “Show me how much you love me, c’mon.”

And then, white-hot, earth-shattering pleasure. You nearly blacked out as you clenched around him, stars burning into supernovas behind your eyelids. Your fluttering walls begged him to stay buried deep inside you. Back arched against the wall, your breasts pushed closer to his face, and he didn’t bother lifting up, resting his cheek on the soft fabric that covered your warm flesh as he fell over the edge with you. He groaned out your name as he shot thick spurts of his warm, sticky come inside you. He knew he’d never come so much in his life, only lifting his head when he heard louder squelching noises from where you both connected. 

As he thrusted, slow and deep, the white creamy juices that once only circled the base of his cock dribbled out of your pussy, around the sides of his length. A bit slid down your thigh, and his eyes rolled back, reveling in how his balls pulsed with pleasure at the sight.

His whole body relaxed as you both rode out the waves of pleasure. As you came down from your orgasm, your head lolled to the side. Your eyes fluttered closed as you cherished his weight on top of you. When your eyes opened, your vision was still a tad blurry, but you blinked through the fog. 

There was something bright on the ground. It was small, cylindrical, and… red? No — it was orange.

“What’s that?”

Michael hummed in response, his speech a bit slurred. “What’s what?”

He lifted his head from your breasts, following your gaze. And he froze, eyes stuck on the tiny bottle of painkillers he’d swiped from his mother’s medicine cabinet after you left. It must have fallen from his pocket when he opened his jeans.

“Are you high right now?”

Michael almost cringed at your whisper. It was different from all your yelling and slapping and arguing before. You were just mad then, and he knew that he could win you over like he had a million times before. This time, it was sad. Cold. Disappointed. 

He wasn’t sure if he could come back from that.

You wriggled beneath him until you could push him away, watching him stumble a bit. He was no longer standing tall, a bit slouched, and he swayed aimlessly from side to side. With the way he was fucking you, his blood was pumping, so they must just now be kicking in at full force. You knew — you were certain of the answer, but you wanted to hear it from him.

“Michael. Are you high?”

He had just enough of his wits left to take a step toward you with remorse in his voice, “Baby, I—”

You held up a hand, taking a step away from him. “I… I’ll call Richie. You can stay with him tonight. Or your mother, I don’t….” He called your name again as you fixed your panties and pulled your skirt back down over your ass. “I can’t do this with you right now, Michael.”

You waited for a moment. For what, you weren’t sure. An apology? An explanation? An unremorseful tirade? Part of you would have even been okay with a fight.

But he just leaned against the brick wall, unable to support himself on his own any longer. He clumsily tucked his softening length back into his pants and mumbled his short reply, a correction. “‘S Mikey.”

Snow began to fall in time with your tears. You drew your coat closer, and turned your back to him. “I’m going home.”

—

“Besides work, how’ve you been feeling?”

“I don’t know, just extremely tired all the time. But what else is new, y’know?”

“And how’s your love life?”

“This is your way of asking if I’m still sleeping with Michael.”

“Well, are you?”

You let out a scoff as you adjusted your position on the couch. Your therapist, Deborah, watched you with knowing eyes as you sat against the arm of the couch, offhandedly pulling a throw pillow into your lap. Your index finger wrapped endlessly around the fringe as you carefully mulled over your words. “Well, I haven’t relapsed in almost a year and a half.”

“That’s good.” She smiled. “Also not what I asked.”

“Okay, I’m still seeing him. Or, sleeping with him.”

“So, it’s not a relationship?”

“No.”

“Do you want it to be?”

You paused. You thought about the possibilities of what could have been — of what once had been. Dates, family dinners, shared apartment. Maybe you’d have gotten married and had kids. You’d have brought them up to be better, to break the cycle of whatever crazy shit made you both the way you were. But you also had to accept who he was. 

You replied, “No.” It was a lie, and Deborah knew that, but you played it off anyway.

She leaned forward, setting her notepad down and resting her elbows on her knees. “Is he still using?”

You nodded reluctantly, “He says he’s not. And he hasn't been high around me since the, uh, Christmas dinner thing last year. But I’ve seen it… pill bottles lying around. Prescriptions that aren’t his.”

You trail off, once again running through what might have been. Would Michael still be sober if you stayed with him? Were you the only thing keeping him from losing his mind? Were you to blame? Your finger slowed around the fringe, heart aching in your chest. 

Deborah gave you a cautionary look, like she could read your mind. “Stop it.”

You sighed, “But what if—”

“Michael is a grown man. His sobriety is his responsibility, and his alone. Just like yours.” She repeated the same words that she did almost every session, reminding you that you were not at fault. “I know it hurts, and it’s okay to let it, but you cannot blame yourself for his decisions.”

“I just- I miss him. How he used to be. But if this is all I can get…” You feel pathetic for even admitting it, but it was the truth.

Deborah watched you carefully, knowing that there wasn’t much she could do but advise you. You were going to see Michael whether it was a good idea or not. So she figured you should know what you’re really getting into. She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “Do you know what codependency is?”

Your brow furrowed, “No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“It’s when two people depend on each other in an unhealthy way. Usually, one person learns to placate the other, keep them calm, while the other person continues unhealthy behaviors because they know their partner will be there to help them when it gets too bad.”

“Okay, I see where you’re going here. It’s not healthy for me—”

“It’s not healthy for either of you.” She clarified. “I know you love Michael. And I’m sure he loves you as much as he can. But I think the best way for you to help him and yourself — if that’s what you want to do — is to stop enabling him.”

Stop enabling him. 

That’s all you could think about for the rest of the session. Those three words terrified you. How would he react if you put your foot down, if you said this needed to stop? What if he never spoke to you again? You loved him, the man that put your heart back together when it was in a million shattered pieces. You were lost, unsure of how to handle the situation.

Twenty minutes later, when you left your therapist’s office, your phone dinged with a text. It was Michael, as usual;

u busy tonight? wanna see u. 

And of course, you gave in. But not without thinking up a plan. You took a deep breath and typed out your reply:

meet me in the parking lot off fourth street at 7:30. wanna take u somewhere.

And you tried to hold out, you really did. But no sooner than you arrived, Michael’s lips were on your neck, sucking and licking, making it hard to think. Before you could even remember Deborah’s warning, you were in the backseat of his car, fogging up the windows as you bounced up and down on his cock. “‘M gonna come!” You warned him.

“Go on, sweetheart.” He encouraged with a groan, strong hands plastered flat against your sweaty back. “Tight cunt’s gonna pull the come right outta me.”

“Fuck, ‘m coming, Mikey!” You whimpered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. His hands gripped your hips, grinding you down on his cock to ride out your orgasm. Your clit bumped deliciously against his pubic bone, and your walls clamped down even tighter, throwing Michael headfirst into his own orgasm.

“Holy- oh my god, don’t fuckin’ stop, baby.” He moaned, throwing his head back. His hips pushed up of their own accord, his thick cock twitching inside you as he shot his come as deep as he could go. He brought one hand down on your ass as you thrusted weakly against him. “That’s it, sweetheart, get every drop.”

You rested your weight on him, your sweaty forehead against the leather headrest. You both took a silent moment to catch your breath, regroup after the explosive sex you always seem to have. Turns out, even with all your disagreements, the attraction never stopped. His hands rubbed up and down your back, almost lulling you to sleep until he pressed his fingertips a little harder, and a moan passed through your lips, eyes shooting open. Michael chuckled deeply and kneaded at that spot, “What was that?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” You admitted, tension rolling away as he worked at the knot. “My back has been killing me lately.”

“Work?”

“Maybe, but ‘m not sure. Just hurts sometimes.”

“Lucky for you, you got your own personal masseuse.”

You snorted, “My hero.”

His hand smacked against your backside playfully, making you jolt on his lap with a giggle. He laughed along with you, “Watch that tone, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, laughter dying down as your eyes haphazardly scanned the ledge of the back window. And next to an empty cup, you saw a piece of paper. A prescription made for Natalie Berzatto.

And it hit you like a train. You couldn’t keep doing this. It wasn’t fair to either of you. You couldn’t keep taking the best parts of him and ignoring the fact that he needed help. And he couldn’t expect you to be around at his beck and call forever. The time for playing pretend was over — you needed to take a real step for the both of you. 

You swung your leg over his lap and sat next to him, scanning the car floor for your panties. “Get dressed. I still have somewhere to take you.”

“You kidnappin’ me, baby?”

“It’s only kidnapping if you don’t go willingly.”

Minutes later, you were walking into a nearby building. The entire walk, he asked and asked where you were taking him, but you never answered, merely saying it was a surprise. When he walked in, and his eyes fell on the folded chairs set in a circle, his smile dropped. Without another word, he turned around and walked out.

“Michael, wait!” You were close behind, following him back outside into the hot, sticky summer night. “Just listen to me, okay?”

“So- so you think ‘cause you’re sober now you can do whatever the fuck you want, is that it?” He asked, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

“I’m just trying to help—”

“I told you I wasn’t fuckin’ using anymore!” He yelled at you.

“And I know that you are!” You snapped back. “I’ve seen the empty pill bottles, Michael. All the prescriptions that are never in your own fucking name. I’m not stupid!”

“Stupid enough to keep comin’ back!” He spat at you. “W-what changed, huh? Is it the therapist? ‘Cause before her, you were happy to just fuck me and leave, pills be damned.”

“Oh, fuck that, Michael.” You laughed humorlessly, pushing at his chest. “You are not doing that anymore, being a dick to me because you can’t accept the truth.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And what would the truth be, sweetheart? Fuckin’ enlighten me.”

“That you’re gonna fucking destroy yourself if you don’t get help!” You shouted. Tears were filling your eyes at the thought, and you realized you weren’t even angry. You were desperate — desperate for him to do something, anything to help himself. “You- you push everyone that loves you away! Me, Richie, Carm—”

“You leave Carmen outta this.” He grumbled, looking away to avoid seeing the tears that fell down your face.

“Everyone that cares, everyone that tries to help, you just treat them like complete and utter shit because you don’t know how to ask for help! But you don’t have to fucking ask, Mikey — we’re offering! You just have to take it and do something before it’s too late!”

Michael was quiet, eerily so. There was a time when you would’ve been able to read him like a book, to say exactly what he needed to hear. But you couldn’t anymore. And that scared you.

You stepped forward with a sniffle, placing your hands on his biceps. You rubbed up and down in a way that you hoped was comforting. “Just one meeting. That’s all I’m asking.”

When he finally looked back at you, his chest tightened at the sight. Your beautiful eyes, filled with tears and a shimmer of hope that he might agree. And part of him wanted to. Some inkling deep down inside of him wanted to wipe your tears, take your hand, and march into that meeting determined to stay sober for the rest of his life. If only to settle down and make a life with you, one that he could be proud of.

But, as always, something stopped him. A small doubt creeping in, telling him he couldn’t do it. That he wasn’t capable of normality, that it wasn’t in his blood. He was drowning in sorrow and pity, and he was willing to accept that darkness — welcomed it, even. But what kind of man would he be if he dragged you under with him? He cupped your face in his hands, shaking his head. Your hands slid up his forearms and stopped on his wrists with a desperate iron grip. His voice was barely a whisper, “I’m not going to that meeting, baby.”

“Mikey, please.” You begged. “I love you.”

“You can’t fix me.” He hoped you heard what he meant to say: I love you, too.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, and responded in kind. It was gentle, melancholic, but it was his way of saying goodbye. His way of expressing the love that he could never quite show you in the way you deserved. But the love was there nonetheless, tearing at his heart until his chest was hollow, nothing left but the memory of you.

When he pulled away, he had to pry your hands off him and take a step back. He gave you a sad smile, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Enjoy your meeting, sweetheart.”

He turned around and walked away. A few tears escaped his eyes when he heard a heart-wrenching sob pass through your lips. He wiped them away quickly and tried to walk faster. 

He was gone the next month.

—

“We’re closed!”

“Maybe you should lock the door then.”

You were still in your black dress and heels when you arrived at The Beef. No one knew where Carmy was, but you’d had an idea in the back of your head. You weren’t sure if you were right, but it only made sense that he’d be at his brother’s restaurant. 

Well, at the restaurant his brother left him. 

When Carmy emerged from the back, he stared, his eyes red from crying. “How’d you know I was here?”

You shrugged, “This is usually where I’d find him too.”

“Yo, please, please don’t come in here with that sentimental bullshit, alright?” He said, his tone sharp and mean. “If I wanted to hear about how great he was, I would’ve gone to the funeral.”

“You should’ve been there anyway. He was your brother.” 

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, Carmen, I didn’t come here to pick a fight.”

He turned on his heel, stomping back to the kitchen, and you followed close behind. “What did you come for then?”

“We’re going to a meeting.”

Carmy kneeled on the floor, next to a bucket of soapy water and a wet rag. He picked it up and wrung it out with a grunt. “What are you talking about?”

“Would you prefer NA or AA?”

He was scrubbing at the same dirty spot that he had for the last hour and a half, but your question made him pause. He looked up at you in disbelief, letting out a scoff. “Excuse me?”

“There are two NA groups I know of, but only one AA, and it starts soon so—”

“Y’know, you’re the addict here, not me.”

“Which is exactly how I know you need to go to a meeting.”

He was seething, an angry red steadily creeping from his neck to his face, one prominent vein bulging in his forehead as he shouted at you. “Goddamnit, I don’t need to go to a fuckin’ Al-Anon meeting! I’m just grieving, alright?!”

“Carm—”

“No, fuck that. The whole reason I didn’t go to the funeral is so I wouldn’t be around that bullshit! You know how Ma gets, and without Mikey here to fix it…”

“Michael was never gonna fix your mother.”

“Right, ‘cause he was too busy trying to fix you.” Carmen let out a harsh chuckle. “‘I’ll call you back, my girl needs me. Hold on, my girl is on the other line.’ Instead of fixing his restaurant, or-or helping his mother, he was making sure you were on the right track. Making sure you don’t relapse.”

Your heart stopped. Your blood burned. You wanted to let loose on him then and there. Yell and shout and cry about how Michael could barely fix himself, let alone you. You wanted to tell Carmen that it was you who desperately tried to fix Michael, make him sober, turn him into the man you knew he could be. Or at least, the one you believed he could be. The man Carm thought he was.

It baffled you how the entire family managed to hide the fact that Michael was an addict from Carmy. But it was a group effort, a last ditch effort to give him the big brother he’d always wanted, the one he remembered from his childhood. He was truly blind to Michael’s true nature, but you knew it was partially because Carmy had his own thing going on. You could see it behind his eyes — it was the same look Michael got before he did something self-destructive. 

Instead of yelling or screaming like you wanted to, tears filled your eyes. You knew from experience the Berzatto men could be mean, especially under pressure, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Unlike earlier in the day, you couldn’t hold them back. Tears fell freely down your cheeks. 

But unlike when his older brother spat unkind words your way, Carmy didn’t try to distract you from it or talk his way out of it. No, his face dropped when he realized the severity of his words. He watched as your knees buckled beneath you, moving across the floor to catch you once an ugly sob wretched its way past your lips. He held you as your body shook with the emotions that you’d been ignoring all day. One of his hands rested on the back of your head, stroking your hair with his thumb. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, okay?”

You don’t know how long you cried. You just sobbed and sobbed until there was nothing left, until you felt completely and utterly empty. Luckily, Carmy helped you sit on the floor. He sat next to you, both your backs against the dishwasher. It creaked loudly under your combined weight, and you sat up. “Sorry,” You croaked out. “Should I not lean on that?”

Carmy chuckled quietly and drew his knees up, resting his forearms atop them. “Piece of shit doesn’t work, don’t worry about it.”

The tiniest smile tugged at your lips as you leaned back and wiped away your tears. “Good. For me, I mean. Sucks for business though.”

His smile faded away as he watched you wipe your tears. His stomach turned uncomfortably at the fact that he’d been so mean, that he’d made you cry. He knew, of course, that he wasn’t the only reason you broke down, but he didn’t like that he piled on. He called your name softly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“Carm, it’s ok—”

“It’s not.” He shook his head, blue eyes piercing into yours. “You were right. Michael couldn’t fix Ma’s problems. And you didn’t need him to fix yours. He was lucky to have you.”

A sigh passed through your lips, and for the first time in a long time, tension rolled off your shoulders. “He loved you, Carmen.”

He fought back a sad smile, “He loved you, too.”

You paused, tears of grief filling your eyes before you remembered what you came for. You took a deep breath and wiped at your cheeks. “I need to show you something.”

His brow furrowed, turning a bit to face you, resting one leg on the ground. “What?”

You grabbed your phone from your pocket and pulled off the case. You lifted the strip of film from your rubber case, handing it to him. “This is why I need to go to an NA meeting tonight. Figured you could go with me.”

A hand over his mouth and tears in his eyes, Carmy let out a single quiet sob as he stared at the two black and white ultrasounds. “Is it…?”

You nodded, “They are.”

“They?”

“Turns out, you can’t forget to take birth control for even one day. I thought taking two the next day might help, but here we are.” Chuckling quietly, you wiped away the tears that were threatening to fall once more. “I’m not… I’m not asking you to replace Mikey or be their dad or anything. It would… y’know, just be nice not to do this by my—”

“Woah, hey,” He stopped you with a shake of his head, not even wanting you to think like that. “You’re family, period. Have been since Michael brought you home. And always will be. Alright?”

Finally, a sliver of hope. You smiled, “Yeah.”

“Good.” He handed the photos back to you gently, as if one wrong move would ruin them. Then, he stood on his feet, wiping a hand over his face and taking a deep breath. He offered his hand. “Now, come on. I’m taking you to your meeting.”

[larkral]

Welcome to Halloween eve WIPsday.

I've been ... sick and in a slump and blah blah blah. BUT I have been writing small little bits over the past few weeks and my therapist cancelled for this morning so I had some unexpected time to post AND I need some cheering on, so you're going to see them. :D

Firstly, Simon's two mums (ie finally, (already, always)):

Something in me pulls taut and then snaps. I'm sobbing. My eyes are closed, and someone is trying to take the wand out of my hand. I grip it tighter, my fingernails digging into my palms. I'm screaming, fighting, crying. And then still. Still like a cage, like a too-heavy blanket, like a straitjacket.  I push against it, against the constricting magic, but I'm trapped in my body, trapped under skin too stiff to flex, air too thick to move through. I grit my teeth, focus on my anger, my feelings, my heart. I let it all go up in flames and then I push.  I jerk out of the spell with a gasp, still clutching the wand, holding the trailing wisps of the newborn lamb magic in my hand. Mummy has my head on her lap, and she's stroking my hand where I'm holding the wand. Mummy is singing to me, and Mum is yelling at the headmaster, a pounding rhythm behind the sweet sound of the song. 

Secondly, Firstprince Soulmate BS below the cut. If you are someone who might want to beta read this Brilliant Shit, please hit me up, my regular cheerleaders aren't in this fandom 😂😭😂.

Alex and Nora and June are doing their final review of the seating chart for the Young America Gala when Alex realizes. "Fuuuck," is what he says.  "What, dreading seeing Timothée Chalamet flirt with the entire PR team?" Nora asks. "…again." "Oh god, don't even joke about that. No, I, uh, realized I have a few last minute additions to the guest list." "I put Bea on the list, manito." "What about…" he looks down at his hands and sighs. "Henry?" "Ha!" June erupts, and holds her hand out to Nora with a gimme gesture.  "I'll Venmo you," Nora says with a shrug.  "Wait, y'all were betting on this?"  "Obviously," Nora says with a level of nonchalance that suggests she was holding a loss at even odds. He turns to June, "Why would you ever bet against her?"

Tags and hugs (if you want them)! Happy All Hallows Eve Eve. May witches and goblins haunt your dreams (/positive).

@stitchyqueer @confused-bi-queer @facewithoutheart @whogaveyoupermission @cutestkilla

@hushed-chorus @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @ileadacharmedlife @bookish-bogwitch @aristocratic-otter

@captain-aralias @petedavidsonscock @artsyunderstudy @martsonmars @nausikaaa

@chen-chen-chen-again-chen @that-disabled-princess @shrekgogurt  @palimpsessed @fatalfangirl

@blackberrysummerblog​ @valeffelees @youarenevertooold @emeryhall @run-for-chamo-miles

@talentpiper11 @orange-peony @thewholelemon @wellbelesbian @mooncello

@roomwithanopenfire @monbons @kiwiana-writes

[batneko]

A couple people suggested an Arranged Marriage AU when I was asking for bowuigi ideas, but it took me this long to come up with a plot (sorry (not sorry) in advance if this one also gets really long).

Mario and Peach finally tied the knot, and Bowser is fine. Really. He doesn't care. He just doesn't feel like moving or leaving his room or eating anything but junk food. He's FINE.

And then one day a bunch of little pea people pop out of one of the caves and tell him they've got a prophecy that states their champion needs to marry the strongest ruler in the land in order to save the world at some unspecified future date. If he was a little less depressed Bowser would probably call bullshit, but right now he doesn't care enough to protest and the idea of marrying some random pea at least sounds better than being alone.

So he follows them into the caves and meets his "bride" (or groom? It's hard to tell under the giant veil) who seems startled to see him but doesn't say anything. Then Bowser has to go through a bunch of weird trials to prove he's the strongest, while the peas and their champion watch.

At least the champion is bigger than the rest of the pea people. That would have been awkward.

Bowser passes the trials easily and is shoved into a room with the champion to wait while the wedding is prepared. (Again, if he was thinking clearly Bowser would probably notice how much this screams "trap," but he isn't.) He does notice that the champion is staying as far away from him as physically possible in the small room, so Bowser tells them they've got nothing to fear from him.

"I'm not expecting anything. I won't make you DO anything. I just want somebody to stand by my side. If you can promise me that, there's just about nothing in the world I won't give you."

The champion calms down after that, and soon the wedding begins.

It's not a ceremony Bowser is familiar with, but he says yes in the right places, and the champion does too (is that voice a little familiar?) and at the end when Bowser lifts off the veil he sees a face that is pretty damn close to the last one he wanted to see right now.

Luigi is not entirely sure how he ended up in this position. He met the pea people some time ago and helped them with a small issue that had them granting him honorary membership into their community. He forgot about it after that until a group of them came and said they needed a champion, and asked him to attempt some trials. He wanted to refuse, but he's been feeling pretty lonely now that Mario is married. He could still drop in to visit, but it feels like intruding. And Mario hasn't been coming by very often at all.

So he did the trials and the pea people were overjoyed and he was starting to feel better until they said he needed to marry a king. Luigi DID refuse then, but the pea people showed him the prophecy carved into the cave walls, and he's been involved in enough destiny BS to not dismiss it out of hand. Maybe it won't be so bad?

Until he saw Bowser. Who... kind of looked like shit, actually. Even when doing more of those dumb trials (funny how they seem to be catered precisely to what Luigi and Bowser are both best at) Bowser looked like his heart wasn't in it. When Luigi heard that speech about just wanting someone to stand by his side, Luigi realized Bowser must be even more lonely than he is right now. HE actually DID lose someone he loved to that wedding.

So Luigi can't bring himself to tell the truth and break his heart. He goes through with the wedding and is already thinking about the logistics of moving in together when Bowser sees him and flips the fuck out.

Luckily(?) it turns out the wedding was, in fact, a trap, so when Bowser rips up the altar and throws it at a wall, it makes the pea people think he's onto them. The fight that ensues is enough that Bowser snaps back into something like his usual self, and Luigi is able to cover for how confused he is.

Luigi feels betrayed, Bowser feels humiliated, but at the moment they are very much united against the ones who used them.

Bowser starts picking guys up and threatening to eat them (he wouldn't, he hates vegetables), until somebody confesses that the prophecy is real... but the threat the champion and the king were supposed to defeat was the pea people themselves. They were planning to take over the world, and the wedding was supposed to be a distraction so they could eliminate them both at once.

Luigi leads Bowser to the carvings on the wall he'd seen before. Sure enough, there's one of what looks very much like the wedding ceremony they just had. The terrified pea person translates the inscription, which says the union will uproot all but the smallest peas.

"So you KNEW getting us together would ruin your plans, but you did it anyway? I'm starting to feel dumb for getting fooled by complete idiots."

There are still two problems. One: Bowser didn't make a secret of the fact he was leaving to get married, so when he goes back home he's going to have to explain why he's still... not. And two: the prophecy hasn't actually been fulfilled yet, there's still more pea people out there with megalomaniacal ambitions.

Luigi proposes a solution to both: why doesn't he just go with him? Stay by his side, just like he promised?

"You're crazy," Bowser says. "I know," Luigi says. "But think about how funny it will be to tell my brother." "...That will be funny."

It is.

Luigi settles in surprisingly easily. He gets his own room, a new wardrobe, and, once Bowser learns he likes to tinker, a workshop. The people don't mind him (a fair number don't seem to recognize him as Mario's brother, which hurts a little but saves trouble). He even gets along with Junior. Once he brings his dog over he's practically the kid's favorite person.

It's pretty much exactly what Bowser wanted. Luigi is devoted to his duties as "prince consort," always appearing next to Bowser in public and giving the illusion of a united front. If he actually argues with Bowser about a lot of his policy in private, nobody needs to know. Somehow, Bowser doesn't mind.

But it's torture, too, because Bowser has never HAD a real partner like this. Someone who supports him but can still disagree with him. There's a period of about a week where Bowser thinks this is working and will last and he can be happy.

Then they're talking about whether or not to have a traditional koopa wedding as well, and Luigi cracks a joke about how he sure hopes the pea people didn't have that rule where a marriage isn't real until you consummate it, because then they might actually have trouble when the prophecy kicks in.

And Bowser realizes he really really would like to consummate this marriage.

Shit.

[romaevelizz]

Crush Culture˖ ࣪⊹

II. Spill my guts

sum: tsukishima finding himself thinking a bit more of the nekoma manager, maybe looking a bit more into her wont be to bad..

Warnings: Tsukishima being a Cutsie little stalker, cursing, teasing, not really proffered! Mention of past relationship.

(III.)

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

He hated it he hated this feeling, it didn’t help how his teammates would talk about ‘Nekomas pretty manger’ it irritated him how Tanaka and Noya practically drooled over her when they brought her up. What made it worse is when yamaguchi let it slip that he had ran into her in the hallway. The two second years going crazy that he had gotten that close to her.

“Common you don’t even know her name!” Noya groaned.

“Why would I even ask she ran into me.” He said.

Tanaka punched him in the arm “you didn’t even say sorry just walked away, how could you she’s gorgeous.” He complained.

Tsukishimas rubbed his arm rolling his eyes, oh he apologized. Not that he wanted to, remembering the moment making him frown. “Ask Kiyoko, they hugged after the game.” Kageyama spoke up.

The three snapping their heads towards the first year. “You’re so smart!” Noya and Tanaka cried pushing off of Tsukishima.

He found it sad how desperate they were to find out her name, why did they even need it? He thought she’s not even around her it’s not like they’d go out with her. To them she was just a pretty face and that pissed tsukishima off, at lest have the decency to ask her name in person. What made this more dreadful is the he wanted to know her name to, to be truthful he’d looked up their roster and coaching staff but didn’t find a name that would fit her. God maybe he was worse than them for doing that.

“SHE HAS AN INSTAGRAM!” Tanaka yelled.

Tsukishima groaned standing up, walking by his two upper class men he glanced at the phone they looked at scrolling through her feed.

It wasn’t stalking if her account is public right? Tsukishima opening up his phone as he began to walk home only for him to close it and shove the phone back in his pocket. He groaned closing his eyes, “Everything alright Tsukii?” The sound of his best friends voice was heard from beside him.

Tsukishimas eyes met his, “I’m fine.”

Lie. And yamaguchi could tell, “don’t bs me what’s up. I get if you don’t wanna tell me but I’m here to listen.” He shrugged.

He wanted to tell him, he wanted that Nekomas manager had an attitude, how he haters her bratty tone pissed him off. How she was stuck in his head how she barely touched him but her body spray lingerd on him after, how she smelled of coco butter and vanilla. How stupid he felt. How she pulled an apology out of him and it wasn’t even a real one! God she pissed him off. Especially how nervous he got.

He wanted to throw up.

“Tsukii?”

“Why are they so obsessed with her?”

“Nekomas manager?”

“Yeah”

Yamaguchi paused for a moment “It’s Tanaka and Nishinoya, it’s just the way they are. Plus she is pretty.”

“Is that really all? Over them being a bit girl crazy.” Yamaguchi spoke rubbing the back of his neck.

No. Was he jealous! No that’s stupid. “Just don’t get it I guess, I mean don’t you get tired if it? Them always asking you if you have a girlfriend? If you have a crush.” Tsukishima asked.

“Not really, it’s never bothered me. I mean I do like girls but it’s not my whole personality nor do they like me back at times. Just keep to myself.” Yamaguchi spoke thinking about as he talked.

Tsukishima always disliked the concept of crushes, how one shared feelings for another but can’t tell them. The feeling of falling in love yet waiting just to perhaps be rejected? The obsession that came with it always wanting to talk to said person or being with them. How you can ever get them out of your mind. It was lame, it made him feel sick.

“You like someone don’t you.”

Tsukishimas head Turing to look at his friend. “No, I’m not interested in all of that.” He spoke. Truthfully he wasn’t, he no intention of getting a girlfriend or even talking to someone romantically.

Maybe it was the comfort of his bed, how he laid on his back as he opened Instagram again. Typing in the name tag, pressing on the first profile. Yeah she was known that for sure. Scrolling through her feed, learning she’s social, loves her family, and all around loves taking photos of herself, but how could she not she’s pretty. Her face was made for the lens of a camera.

“Really like putting yourself out there huh..?” He spoke to himself, the moment he said that his finger slipped a pink heart popping up on the screen.

“No.”

“Oh shit!” He sat up quickly. It was a photo of her on the beach sitting up on her knees her hands up blocking the sun from her face. He liked a fucking Bikini post from 6 months ago.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” He groaned. What if he unliked it? She still see it. No that was stupid.

The sound of his door opening made if head turn. “Everything alright Kei!” His mother asked.

“Yeah. Im great just people,” he spoke taking a deep breath before talking to him mom again “I’m alright sorry for worrying you.” He spoke. She nodded closing the door.

“No fucking way!”

“What a little stalker.” She spoke softly her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth.

“Who’s a stalker?”

“Nobody. Some kid I met a little over a week ago.” Yn spoke to her older brother.

He groaned pushing off the doorway. She laughed lightly pressing on his profile. Not a very out there guy hmm.. he had a few post. Her thumb lingered over the follow button, “fuck it.” Pressing it setting her phone down.

The little buzz of her phone making her smirk, peeking at her phone ‘keitsukiishima_07’ followed you back.

She picked up her phone a giddy grin on her face, opening the messages. Oh she was about to give this kid so much shit.

She couldn’t help but laugh, lord he was dry tho.

Tsukishima on the other hand threw his phone on his bed the blonde now standing up, “so stupid.”

Yet when he found himself back in his bed he opened the chat once more, only to close it. No. He’s going to bed. Forgetting about what just happened and going to sleep. If only it was that easy, tossing and turning but he couldn’t sleep, he’d being lying if he wasn’t waiting for another text.

Didn’t matter what it was. But he’d be damned if he text her.

She wasn’t much different, but she waited till the next day.

“Kuroo are we inviting Karasuno to the summer camp?” She asked standing infront of his desk.

He looked up at her his face scrunching “I think.”

“Why-“

“Thank you!” She spoke leaving his classroom.

Maybe she didn’t have to wait as long as she thought to see him. Her summer break go free labored babysitting wouldn’t be to bad. She’d have a first year to pick on.

It was wierd how she found herself back looking at those three post, one of him reading a book somthing his friends probably took, the two other of him on a hike. A taller women, blonde, standing next to him, his mom she guessed how he held her just as close as she did him a half smile on his face. One most would think is fake and forced but it was genuine Tsukishima Kei was a mamas boy.

Her eyes scanned the phone as she continued to look, a notification popping up.

‘Tetsu(hater)😒’

‘Your ex is gonna be at the camp wanted to give you heads up!’

Her once smile dropping. Gross. Common, I mean sure he’s part of a team that’s friends but common. She was thankful for the heads up but she felt sick. He was gonna be there at that camp for 2 almost 3 weeks. God damn it. She could feel tears weld up in her eyes, she hated it. They’ve been apart for over 5 months. And now she had to see his stupid fucking face. It made her sick.

Felt as if she would spill her guts.

[3cremepie3]

Chatterbox

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Sypnopsis - Professor Crowley helping you his dear student relive some stress.

Warnings - Smut 18+, Teacher x student, squirting, dirty talk, humiliation, gagging, flattery!

A/n - I was been supposed to get this done. Sorry for the delay I got really busy with school. But it’s out now thanks for the support! And also before anyone starts Y/n is grown. REBLOG PLS!!

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“It’s been months since I’ve seen my family! My friends hell even my enemies.” What have you been doing this whole time? Answer me, Crowley,” you demanded!

“Y/n I have a school to run on top of trying to solve your impossible dilemma. For all I know you might’ve fallen from the sky like the tums.” Well, you’re not doing a good job at your school if your students keep overblotting,” you snapped.

You were tired of Crowley's BS that’s why you stormed into his office. You were currently standing over his desk looking his stupid mask in the eyes. He sat on his chair which resembled a bird cage.

“I have to be the one to stop them from dying because conveniently somehow you’re never around. You told me I could be a student here, not a therapist.” As pathetic as it may be you began to cry the built stress of holding back your feelings let loose.

“I need help myself I don’t have time to help others. Please Crowley help me find a way home,” you sobbed. Crowley sighed before clutching you closer to him.

“I'm a generous headmaster I hate to see my students under such stress. Especially beautiful ones that I’m trying to help every day. Crowley pulled your hands away from your face. Here come closer Y/n.” You followed his instructions as he pulled slightly on your arm.

He opened up one of his desk drawers to a file with your name on it. “This is everything I’ve collected on you so far even after using my global resources,” he spoke.”You read through the files while bent over his desk for a better view.

You could see how every lead he got was scratched off. It was hard to read since he had chicken scribble but you got through most of it. Crowley had been trying. But this file just proved one more thing you were never getting home. In a moment of shock you fell back and the tears began to stream again. You were in Crowleys now lap to upset to move. “Sorry Mr. Crowley,” you sniffed. “I can see now that you have been trying.”

“Yes this whole time this situation has been stressful for me as well since you’re quite troublesome on campus,” he joked. You could tell he was trying to lighten the mood. “I guess you have it hard too.” You shifted so that you could look at him not even remembering that you were on his lap.

“Um yeah I guess you could say that,” he coughed. For a second you wondered what he meant by that and then you felt it. His large hard on pressing onto your back. “Oh I should get up,” you yelped.

“No, I don’t mind you staying here. You look too pretty when you cry. And it seems like we could both use a little bit of a stress relief. Look at how tense you are.” He started to massage your shoulders then his hands rolled down to your neck.

You let out a sharp exhale startled by his cold hand on such a sensitive area. He began to grind himself into your now-exposed panties since your skirt was lifted. “I’ll continue only if you want me to Y/n. It’s an honor to make love to someone like me,” he chuckled.

“I’ve never done anything like this Mr. Crowley.” It’s okay I’ll walk you through it there’s no way you won’t enjoy your time with me.” Okay I’ll try then.”

“But are we gonna do it here? What if someone walks in?” They can’t do much to the I'm the headmaster after all.” His hands gripped your ass giving it a firm squeeze. “I don’t know Mister this seems like a bad idea.

“Hey,” you protested. “Just calm down.” His fingers ghosted over your pussy causing you to squirm. “Squirming already I guess you’re nervous. I would be too if I were having sex with me.”

“Shhh just sit and relax.” He put your legs on each side of the chair legs and held your back for support. “Let’s get these useless things off.” He cut off your panties in an instant with his claws.

“Your egos too high,” you spoke. “And your mouth is too smart it would be best if I stuff you quiet.” What huh.” You asked not fully registering what he meant. The leftover fabric of your panties was stuffed in your mouth.

“That’s better.” One of his hands gripped your thigh tighter as the other worked off his golden claws and gloves. You waited watching his every move. His fingers were abnormally long and slender. He also had claw-like fingernails on all but two of his middle fingers. You didn’t think Mr. Crowley would get any pussy he seemed too busy but you were wrong. He knew exactly what to do massaging your clit while teasing your fluttering hole.

Your moans could be heard through your gag. “Feels good huh?” I can tell it does look at how you’ll suck me up.” He inserted his finger then and your heat greedily accepted him.

“See I’m always right!” You ready to take the next one? He questioned inbetween tasting your juices on his finger. You shook your head quickly slightly ashamed at your eagerness. The stretch felt heavenly to the point where you sunk your hips down further on his fingers.

“So needy huh? You needed this Y/n you need me huh?” You shook your head again grinding yourself up and down on his fingers. By now your pussy was so wet it started to make lewd sounds.

They got louder and louder the longer you fucked yourself on his fingers. Crowley sat back admiring the view. Your pussy was on full display since your uniform skirt was lifted. You felt his eyes burning onto you. His gaze wasn’t a judgemental but a loving one.

He realized how much of a slut he just found. He would just have to train you to realize it. But you were quickly breaking out of your box. Your moans were turning into whines. You were close now bouncing on his curved fingers like a fuck rabbit.

Your hands dug into his shoulders landing on his soft feather-filled Shaw. You buried your face in his neck too ashamed to face him. “Most women would get tired by now and want me to fuck them. I guess you young ones have more stamina.”

He was such a talkative asshole you wish that he would shut up. But you couldn’t stop now when you were so close to cumming. You were so close to letting go your juices were dripping down his fingers wetting his dress shirt.

“Such a loud sloppy mess for me. You’re doing so good Let me see how you feel with this.” He stopped all motion leaving you breathless. For a second you were hopeless that he was gonna help you finish. But his hands boosted your thighs up now your pussy was nearing his mouth.

You gasped into your gag you were high up now with no support other than his hair to hold. “Shh calm down I never dropped anyone doing this. Just give in everything will be okay.” He spoke sending vibrations and chills up your already shakey spine. He licked up around your thighs purposefully missing your needy parts. You whined pulling him forward. “Lick here.” You tried to illustrate through your gag.

This was the longest you’ve been edged your entire impatient life. You used your tongue to push your gag out you could’ve taken being bound any longer. “Headmage please I need your mouth. I need to cum or I think I’ll go crazy. Now stop being a fucking tease,” you demanded. “That’s not nice language young lady.” Okay, I’m sorry I’m sorry,” you pleaded.

“Fine, I’ll be kind enough to spare you.” Ahh! You screamed being unexpectedly dropped. You were back on Crowley's lap then you were back on the desk. You spread your legs again and finally after what felt like forever his mouth met your clit.

You wrapped your legs around his head tightly. “You’re not escaping this bit.” No problem I can stay like this for hours,” he murmured. He began to lap up your juices that had pilled up from all his teasing.

“Mmm, that feels good.” Doesn't it baby I heard my head game is superior.” Stop hearing and start focusing,” you instructed. “You’re insufferable,” you sighed. “And you're sweet so sweet,” he explained through slurps.

“Mmm Crowley,” you groaned. “You’re so naughty y/n I feel you twitching on my tongue. Are you about to cum? You must be look at how you’re shaking.” You hadn’t even noticed that how your body was reacting.

“Yes I’m about to cum!” Hmm,” he pondered. “Should I really let you cum? I don’t think this naughty pussy deserves it.” He teased while slapping your clit. You tightened in surprise and sprung up. “Crowley!”

“Fuck please just let me I’ve been waiting so long.” He gave you a reassuring glance latching his mouth to your clit. This time you knew he would allow you to cum. He didn’t let up for a second not even to breathe.

His mask partially lifted but you were too out of it to look at his secret identity. Your vision began to blur so you just shut your eyes as tight as they could go. Crowley didn’t like how your body was pulling away so his arm held your stomach down.

There was no escaping his tounges harsh attack even after you began to cum. He continued prolonging your orgasm. Your toes curled and even the iron grip he had on your waist wasn’t enough to stop you from shaking.

“Fuck I’m gonna! Ahh, I’m gonna squirt if you keep that up,” you warned. “I don’t mind the mess my dear but I do mind your volume.” He explained before pulling you into a smothering kiss.

You let go completely over his lanky fingers. “Headmage!! You screamed into his mouth. His tongue swayed across yours muffling your sound. “Ahh.” You sighed relieved that your edging was over. You were trying to relax your breathing for a moment before you hit Crowley. “What the fuck why are you such a tease?!”

“I have to be and anyways you should be grateful look at how hard you came.” You left my desk all sticky.” Well it’s gonna stay that way,” you chuckled. You slid off his desk pulling your panties back up.

“C’mon don’t leave my little stress reliever. Don’t you want to help your dear Headmage out a little more after I was so kind to you?” He grabbed his buldge and for a second you wanted to go back down on your knees.

But the bell ringing distracted your thoughts. “I need to be a good student like I said earlier. So bye Crowley. You left leaving him a hard insatiable mess.

[leilani-lily]

~Oh Deer~ (Chapter 5)

I'll admit, I had this finished a while ago, but couldn't post until now. I have a confession to make... my long term boyfriend of 6 years split with me a couple days ago. And it's been... hard, to say the least. I'm really hoping this wont deter me from continuing to write (especially since this story is kinda romantic, but also isn't? There's deep feelings involved xD) I hope maybe writing can maybe help me as it serves as a distraction? I honestly don't know... All I can ask for is patience as I deal with this. If I find I need a break I'll be sure to let you guys know. But I guess for now, please keep me in your thoughts if you can. Or if anyone wants to swap stories I'm more than happy to share. ꨄ But ok. Enough sadness. This chapter was a joy to write before all the bs happened. I hope it can make you smile! And as always, please feel free to comment your thoughts! SYNOPSIS: AroAce! Alastor x Chef!Singer! Reader. You settle into hotel life, and whip up Alastor's fave dish! But some drama ensues when you get a little too friendly with a certain Spider Demon~ Word Count: 4.4 K Chapter under the cut! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You had developed quite a routine here during your time at the hotel, and you certainly found your days a lot busier than you had intended.

Your morning coffee with Alastor that usually blended into breakfast, then joining him in his tower for his broadcasts. He’d always pour two glasses of rye whisky and sit with you, asking for your thoughts afterwards. You’d discuss what you liked and didn’t like, and were surprised to learn he took criticism well (other than the occasional eye twitch). You’d bounce off new topics for future shows together before wrapping up and heading back down to the kitchen for the lunch rush.

After lunch was usually when Charlie would want to round everybody up. Either discussing how to make the hotel more liveable, how to recruit more sinners, or various exercises to improve everyone’s character. Sometimes these meetings were very boring and you’d have to pinch yourself constantly to stay awake. But for the most part they were fun, and you found yourself actually enjoying spending time with everyone. Especially goofing around with Angel and Husk, which usually resulted in Vaggie snapping at you all as you choke back laughter. Sometimes you would catch Alastor watching you with an unreadable expression, but you didn’t think anything of it. 

When that would wrap up, it was time to whip up dinner. You managed to figure out everyone’s favourite foods, and every Friday you decided you’d rotate through and make someone’s special  dish for them. Everyone enjoyed Friday dinners, always trying to guess what everyone liked, make bets on who was next, and were especially pleased if it was their night. It wasn’t much, but their praise always made you secretly feel warm and bubbly inside. 

Finally, after cleaning everything up and ending your shift, you’d have some spare time. Depending on how the day went, you would either read and have a quiet night to yourself, or just completely pass out straight away. 

Before you knew it, a month had flown before your eyes; bringing you into the present.

You knew you had no reason to be so nervous. Angel had loved his lasagna dish last week, and previously Charlie loved the pizza you had made (even if others had picked off the pineapple in disgust). You had proven you were a good chef since working here. But this Friday meal in particular… this one was different. It was Alastor’s. Your closest friend. And you knew just how important this particular meal was. It wasn’t just a dish, it was a memory. A way to remember his mother, and you had learned very quickly just how much she meant to him. 

Your heart was fluttering nervously as you put the jambalaya out on the large dining table. No one was there yet, but you could hear the chitter of excited demons coming closer to you, so you knew they were on their way. You always tried to make Friday’s dinner special, it was the one meal where you all sat and ate together. Kind of like a little family. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, your heart fluttering warmly at the thought. You went back to the kitchen to grab the cheddar biscuits, your mind wandering back to Alastor. You shouldn't be overthinking this, it’s just a stupid dinner. Did his opinion really matter that much to you?

You re-enter the dining room, and your eyes immediately locked with the demon in question. Alastor’s smile seemed to brighten the moment he saw you, but his smile only made your hands sweaty.

…… Yes, yes his opinion really did matter that much. You really wanted to make a good impression. 

“Ooooh and ya baked fresh biscuits??” Angel had zipped up beside you, eyeing the plate of goodies in your hands, “ya really know how ta spoil a demon Baby Cakes!” His fingers danced over a biscuit, causing you to snap out of your hold with Alastor and give Angel a quick slap on the wrist. He zipped his hand away in mock horror, making you snort a moment.

“You know the rules; no eating ‘till everyone’s here,” You scold him, but you can’t help but smile; you could never really be angry with him. Angel groaned dramatically, hugging himself with his four arms.

“You’re a cruel mistress y/n; makin’ a cutie like me practically starve to death! Jus’ look at me! I’m witherin’ away!” he leans up against you, arching his back as his full weight pressed on you. You let out a single laugh as you tried to maintain your hold on the plate and not fall over. He continued to groan weakly as his one arm grasped the air above him and another flopped over his eyes. 

Wow. Someone give this guy an award. No wonder he was in show business. 

You laugh again at the dramatics and roll your eyes. Finally, you sighed and grabbed a biscuit, offering it to the Spider Demon. Angel peeked over and immediately lit up, grabbed it eagerly before standing up straight, miraculously recovering from his ‘near death’. He took a deep whiff of the warm bread before smiling back at you. 

“Yarra real doll toots~” he gives you a flirty wink to which you shake your head in amusement. Always the charmer this one. 

“Yeah yeah, well, just don’t tell the others. Or else they might think you’re my favourite~!” You swing your hips to him and give him a playful hip bump, winking right back. He laughed as the nudge pushed him to the side, using the momentum to walk to his seat. But as he sauntered away, he looked back and grinned mischievously.

“Well maybe they should~!” he called back, doing a little suggestive shoulder shimmy and wiggling his eyebrows. You couldn’t help your snort. Cheeky thing. 

You knew it was all in good fun; teasing and play-flirting had become your thing. He was like the gal-pal you had never had since coming to Hell, and you could tell he was happy to have a girlie here at the hotel. You knew his real bestie was some demon named Cherri (which he INSISTED you all had to go out one night), but having another chica just a couple rooms down from his own was fun and convenient. And you were happy to be that friend for him if it meant slumber parties and beauty routines. 

You felt someone’s eyes on you, and you snapped out of your bubbly thoughts. Alastor was standing in the same spot he was before, not having moved an inch. He was still smiling, but this time it felt a little more strained. More forced. And his eye twitched ever so slightly. You also noticed his grip tight around his microphone. He caught you looking at him and immediately turned away, beginning to walk back to his seat with an unreadable expression. 

… That was weird. 

Before you could even begin to process, the rest of the gang entered the room. They all gave you a greeting in their own quirky ways as they arrived and made their way to their seats. Angel shoved the rest of the biscuit into his mouth to hide any evidence and happily trotted over to Husk. You smiled happily at the arrival of your comrades and set the tray of bread down on the table. Everyone looked at the spread before them and chittered excitedly, impressed with the effort you had put into tonight’s dinner. 

As everyone sat down, you quickly made your way to your seat beside Angel. Before sitting down, you cleared your throat a moment to get everyone’s attention. As the happy chatter died down, you began to speak.

“First off, I’d like to thank everyone for joining in today’s special dinner. Today’s meal is inspired by our very own Facility Manager, Alastor.” Everyone clapped politely and Charlie even gave a small whoop of encouragement. Alastor sat up proudly from his seat at the head of the table, loving the attention he was getting. 

“I’ll admit, I was a bit intimidated with tackling this particular dish, as we’ve all heard him boast about his mother’s recipe.” There were a couple chuckles scattered around the table, everyone very aware of how much he spoke of it. Husk in particular rolled his eyes and muttered quietly in disdain.

“I realize I’ll probably never meet up to her standards,” you look back at Alastor and give a sheepish smile, “but I sincerely hope it’s to your liking.” Alastors smile widened ever so slightly, his hooded gaze softening at your words. 

“My dear,” he marveled, his eyes never leaving yours, “the fact that you were kind enough to take the time to prepare it with me in mind already makes it wonderful.” You felt your hand press up to your chest, your fist curling up tightly near your heart. Alastor always knew what to say to make you feel better. He could be really gentle when he wanted to be. 

“Yea, and not only for ol’ Smiles ‘ere,” Angel spoke up, making you look down at him, “But you’ve made some bitchin’ good meals fer all of us.” he gestured to the crowd, gaining various murmurs of agreement and praise. You looked at everyone and their smiling faces and could feel your chest tightening. 

“Seriously, Sugar, ya freakin’ amazing.” Angel continued, giving you a warm smile. He suddenly grabbed onto his glass and raised it high, giving everyone a cocky grin. “Let’s hear it for y/n ya filthy sinnars!” 

Before you could comprehend, everyone had raised their glasses and gave a cheer of encouragement. You looked out to everyone and their genuine happiness and support, at a loss for words. You had organized all of this simply because you wanted to, but you had to admit, being recognised felt really good. A warmth began to spread into your chest, and a lump formed in your throat. 

It… wow, it had been so long since you’ve had friends like this.

You did your best to blink back tears at the gesture, not expecting to get so emotional over all of this. As you took a moment to acknowledge everyone, your gaze finally turned to Alastor. 

Oddly enough, he wasn’t looking at you, but he was looking at Angel. His eyebrows were tight as his grin stretched in an uncomfortable smile. You could tell he felt your gaze, cause soon his eyes flicked up to you, catching you watching him. In the blink of an eye, his expression softened as he grabbed his own glass, raising it high and giving you a heartening look. You shook the strange feeling from before and smiled back at him, grateful for his appreciation. 

The excitement settled down as everyone started serving themselves, the smell of the cooking becoming too much for everyone to ignore. You finally sat in your chair and reached out for Angel’s hand. The Spider Demon looked to you in surprise for a moment, taking in your smiling face.

“That was really sweet of you to say Angel,” you whispered, your grip on him tightening for a moment. You could feel yourself choking up again. “Seriously… Thank you.” Angel's face softened as he twisted his hand so it could grip on to yours. He began to open his mouth to respond.

In a mere moment, you could feel your chair lurch backwards, a panicked yelp escaping your throat as your hand was ripped out of Angel’s. Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing, looking at you in surprise. Angel turned in his seat and looked at you stupidly.

“... What the fuc-?”

Angel didn’t even get a chance to finish his statement as suddenly everyone chairs in your row shifted to the right, causing everyone to cry out and grip onto their seats in fear. Everyone on the other side of the table looked on in disbelief as their friends were shuffled around. 

To your surprise, while everyone shifted right, you slid to your left at lightning speed, the chair scraping loudly on the wooden floor. You suddenly jolted to a stop, and you held on for dear life at the force in which you were moving. Before you could recover, your chair lurched forward, propelling you back to the table and new place setting.

… Right next to Alastor.

You gasped in surprise, your heart racing in shock as you felt your knuckles turning white from gripping the seat so hard. You noticed something flicker beneath you, and your eyes managed to catch something. A shadow with a familiar Cheshire grin shimmied away from the feet of your chair before melting into the shade of the table. 

Your head whipped up to Alastor in disbelief. The Radio Demon had just finished serving himself jambalaya, not even looking in your direction as he tapped the serving spoon against his plate. With a cool expression, he turned his head to you and tilted his head to the side, as if nothing had happened.

“... Jambalaya~?” He pointed the spoon to the pot and looked at you expectantly.

Everyone stared for a moment, the room eerily quiet.

“.......... Alastor what the actual FUCK was that?!” Angel suddenly exploded, clearly very upset that his bestie was now 2 chairs away from him. Everyone else in your row nodded in agreement, perplexed at the sudden change in seating. Alastor didn't turn his head, nor look at Angel. The Radio Demon simply took your plate and began serving you the ride dish, his expression surprisingly calm and attention only on you.

“Just say when dear~”

Your eyes darted from Alastor to Angel, unsure of what to even do or say. Angel’s face scrunched up into a scowl, clearly displeased with being ignored.

“Hey! Freaky Face! I’m talkin’ to ya!” he growled, his hands tightening into fists. Alastor continued to ignore the spider, continuing to serve you as if it was just the two of you in the room. 

“My my, hungry now are we y/n dearest~?” Alastor grinned cheekily. You were still so dumbstruck, your gaze finally fell to your plate and you quickly realized just how full it was getting. Awkwardly looking between Angel and Alastor, you softly murmured a 'w-when'. Alastor gave a hum of approval and tapped the spoon on your plate before setting it back down in front of you. 

“Hah, ok Asshole. I see how it is.” Angel chuckled darkly to himself, “I get it. Ya just hate ta see anyone else gettin’ cozy with our little chef. I’ll admit, I didn’t take ya for the jealous type.”

That seemed to catch Alastors attention.

It was only for a moment, and only you were able to catch it sitting so close to him. But you noticed the Radio Demon’s pupils flash, and his one eyelid twitch as his smile grew dangerously wide. But in an instant, Alastor calmed his expression and was back to his suave self. Taking a breath, he finally turned his head to Angel.

“Oh please.” He drawled, his eyes looking at him with boredom, “I simply figured it only made sense for our wonderful chef to sit next to the demon who inspired tonight’s dish. Wouldn’t you agree y/n~?” He turned his head to you and slowly leaned in, giving you a pleasant smile. You felt your heart leap at suddenly being caught off guard, unsure of what to say.

“I, ah, well-!” 

Everyone's eyes were on you, and you suddenly felt very self conscious. Being put on the spot like this, and feeling as if you had to choose between your two friends, it was becoming very overwhelming. Unbeknownst to you, Charlie looked at you with such pity, and felt her own blood begin to boil at the situation these men put you in. Placing her hands on the table, the Princess of Hell rose from her chair, her face suddenly very authoritative.

“Both of you need to stop this nonsense.” She stated, looking down at both Angel and Alastor disapprovingly. “Y/n put a lot of effort into making this dinner special; and I won't allow you to ruin it over something so petty!” She continued to glare at them judgingly before turning her attention to you, giving you a quick comforting smile and nod. You felt your shoulders relax and smile back at her, feeling grateful for her support. She really was growing into her royal title. 

Angel had his arms crossed and was clearly still pissed, but there was a mix of shame in his eyes after being called out. Alastor’s face remained surprisingly calm, turning to look over at you. He noticed your posture and expression, his eyes calculating as he assessed the situation. Finally he turned back to the table.

“Our Princess is right of course~!” He smiled, lifting a hand and placing it on your shoulder, “I would hate for all of dear y/n’s efforts to be neglected. She has worked so hard; let us forget about all this nonsense and enjoy this wonderful meal~!” His eyes slid to Angels and gave him a hard stare. The Spider demon glared right back, his jaw tight and eyes furrowed with hatred. But after glancing at both you and Charlie, and seeing your faces, he finally grumbled in defeat. With a huff, Angel reached for another cheddar biscuit and slouched in his seat, ending the feud.  

You finally released the breath you were holding as everyone shrugged their shoulders and returned their focus to their plates. You felt Alastors grip on your shoulder tighten for a moment, making you turn to him. 

“Are you quite alright my dear?” He asked, an eyebrow raised in question. Despite the calm look on his face, you knew he wouldn't be asking if he wasn't genuinely concerned. You sighed and felt a smile spread across your face, giving his hand a pat in reassurance. 

“Yeah, I’m ok Al,” you started, beginning to shake your head and grin as you thought about the shenanigans he pulled earlier. “But seriously, there’s no need to be so jealous. If you want to sit beside me, just say so.” You looked up to him playfully, your previously conflicted emotions melting away. Alastor stared at you for a moment, his eye’s lidded and giving you a blank stare before turning to his plate. Removing his hand from your shoulder, he picked up his utensils and was suddenly very focused on his meal.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about y/n~” he replied. He scooped up a spoonful of rice and shrimp. You could feel your eyes crinkling as you watched him knowingly.

“Uh huh~” you smirk. 

The Radio Demon ignored you and took his first bit of jambalaya. Your grin slowly began to fall as you watched him pull the spoon out from his lips, your previous nerves from earlier settling in again. You watched his expression with baited breath as he tasted your cooking. 

His appearance didn’t change much; his eyes looking down at the food beneath him, eyes flickering over the plate. After a moment, his eyelids sank down closed as he continued to chew, allowing all of his senses to focus on the flavor. You could feel your leg begin to jiggle anxiously; seriously it was sad how badly you wanted this man’s approval. 

The demon lifted his head and gulped his mouthful down, eyes still closed and lips in a small pressed smile. You held your breath as you waited for his verdict. Alastor’s smile grew wider as he lowered his head back to the plate, opening his eyes and looking fondly at the dish below him. 

“Well well~” he chuckled, finally turning his head to you and giving you an impressed look, “I have to admit, this is as close as anyone has ever gotten.” 

You felt your heart stop.

Is he shitting you right now?

“Of course,” he continued, scooping another spoonful and inspecting it, “it is missing a few things; she’d usually add sausage as well, and probably a bit more spice to it.” he looked fond for a moment, seeming to reminisce to days gone by.

“Nevertheless, it does still taste like home~” He took another bite and once again closed his eyes, savoring the flavors. 

You felt lighter than a feather. 

Of course you knew you’d never get it exactly right. But holy crap you were so relieved that it met his expectations. You were so giddy you had to bite your lip to prevent yourself from squealing, practically doing a little happy dance in your chair. Satisfied with Alastors response, you grabbed onto your own spoon and began to happily dig in.

You were so carefree in your own little world, you didn’t even notice Alastor sneaking a glance at you. Or how his lips curled up ever so slightly at your antics before turning back to his plate. 

The rest of the evening went on without a hitch. Everyone gorged themselves until they were ready to burst, and complimented you on such a flavorful meal. You were so flustered with all the praise; despite the little quarrel that had happened earlier, you couldn’t have been more pleased with how the night went. And you felt more confident with your cooking now that you had Alastor’s official stamp of approval.

The group of demons eventually began to trickle out of the room, ready to immediately flop onto the closest comfortable furniture they could find. You giggled at their behavior and wished you could do the same, but you still had to clean up before you could clock off work. With a final stretch, you turn back to the table and are surprised to see Alastor still in his chair, leaning back comfortably and eyes closed.

“Truly a wonderful evening y/n dearest,” he sighed, opening a single eye to look at you, “There’s something about dining with a group of folks that brings out a certain camaraderie, don’t you think~?” You sighed happily as you approached the table.

“Honestly, it was something I had forgotten I had missed since coming to Hell,” you smiled, beginning to stack the plates and collecting utensils. “I’m just happy to do my part in getting demons to open up more and earn everyone’s trust.”

Alastor said nothing in return, simply watching you as you accumulated the dirty dishes. His eyebrow quirked up before he finally raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Shadows emerged from under the table, making you gasp and almost drop your stack of plates. The same shaded goons from your first week at the hotel appeared beside you and began collecting all the dishes. You begin to tumble over words of protests, but they didn’t pay attention to you as they continued to clean, one even grabbing the stack in your hands and waddling to the kitchen.

“Alastor!” you laugh, turning to him in bewilderment, “Call your minions off; seriously I can clean all of this up myself.” But the Radio Demon merely waved a hand to you as he rose from his seat.

“Don’t bother arguing with me my dear,” he sassed, “You’ve done more than enough tonight; consider this my way of thanking you for a marvelous feast.” 

You sighed at him, slightly annoyed. But you had to admit, you were grateful for his help. Today had surprisingly taken its toll on you, physically and emotionally, and you were so tired from it all. You smiled up at him, rocking back and forth on your feet sheepishly.

“... Thank you Al. Honestly.” you paused for a moment, thinking about everything he had done for you in the month you’d been here. And asking for nothing in return. It was out of character for him.

“I just…” you sighed, making Alastor tilt his head quizzically to you. “I just want to say I’m thankful for everything you’ve done for me. You gave me this job, helped me settle in and feel comfortable, and because of it all I even got to make new friends…” You saw Alastors eyes narrow for a moment and you had to bite back the knowing grin. You cleared your throat and continued.

“But I hope you know,” you hummed, “that I’ll always consider you my first real friend down here. And that I’m really grateful to have been given this chance to get close to you.”

Alastor looked at you long and hard for a moment, the air between you calm and quiet. His static sound shuffled for a second before he finally straightened his back and stood taller, his lips pressed together into a large smile. The red demon glided over to you, and softly patted your head, shaking his head in amusement.

“Ohhh y/n, y/n, y/n,” he sighed, opening his eyes and quirking an eyebrow, “I do often wonder how someone like yourself ended up down here.” Now it was your turn to cock an eyebrow as you gave him a cheeky smile.

“Al, you know exactly how I got down here.”

“Ah, that’s right.” A chuckle escaped his lips, and you knew for a fact he still found your death thoroughly entertaining. “By the way, you didn’t happen to sneak anything into our meal today, now did you~?” He gave you an impish grin. You burst out laughing.

“You asshole!” you guffawed, shoving his hand on your head away playfully, to which the demon snickered evilly. As your laughter simmered down, looked at you a moment before tilting his head up, eyes closed.

“I still stand by my previous statement,” he mused. “The type of folks in this realm are not worthy of such kindness. You should be careful as to whom you trust around here.” He opened his eyes, and his crimson gaze fell to yours. His expression shifted into a serious one at his last statement, making your grin falter for a moment. But only for a moment. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I have you around then, isn’t it?” You smiled, taking a step towards him.

Alastors gaze widened a moment, his eyes flickering over your face. It wasn’t often that you caught the Radio Demon off guard, but the rare moments when you did, you couldn’t help but feel a little pride. Finally, Alastor began to chuckle, shaking his head at you again. After taking a breath, he looked back down at you, a surprising fondness donning his face.

“Hmmm, I suppose it is~”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

..... Alastor doesn't like to share ¬‿¬ Fun fact: Angel like's to give you food-related nicknames. Baby Cakes, Sugar, Puddin', Honey Bunz, ect.

FIRST PREVIOUS NEXT

[cruyuu]

Hi!

My thoughts about what I'm about to point out aren't coherent yet but you're the first person I thought of when it came to me

So Yuuji's still missing his left pinky finger after Sukuna changed vessel and RCT can't fix that because that's a piece of Yuuji's soul that was ripped off

And now I'm following the theory that the finger in the last panel is the one that was imbued in Yuuji from birth that he removed himself through his ring finger

And in my brain it's like 'there's some skit bs going on here' and idk if I'm making sense because I'm not sure of where this is going 😅 but with the left ring finger being associated with engagements and weddings getting rind of the last piece of the other's soul through that finger could be akin to throwing away your wedding ring (the divorce era is real) but maybe they've rotten my brain a bit too much

In any case I'm looking forward to any thoughts you have on this chapter (and thank you for reading my ramblings) <3

Hi there anon!

I love your thought process and the fact that you remembered that! It would be extremely fitting (even if far-fetched for those who are not as insane as we are) because they just big sigh. They just have to act like that and be that way lol. I wouldn't put it past our dear author who delivered a lot on sukuita week no less (that is still some crazy coincidence) to again make something about them both. If not the finger, then the soul connection, if not that then something else. Like Gege definitely didn't need to write Yuuji chasing after his inner demon and spending time with him (hell, saying he was frantic and wanting Sukuna to indulge him), especially not when that same demon is someone who continually kept ruining his life and took the very person Yuuji confessed he feels lonely without, but here we are.

I'm waiting for the official chapter to drop so I can really get the whole picture since leaks are just a tiny piece. Shipping aside, I don't know what to make of that panel with Sukuna's finger. jjk is pretty close to ending now and hence, I am skeptical. I really wish for there to be another arc after Shinjuku because it feels very off to me to end everything in like two more chapters. I'm hoping for more because it still feels like there's more left. Maybe I'm just insane and will be missing this manga a lot which is why I'm sensing that, idk.

Divorce arc has never been realer now and it's lowkey slightly painful to me since Yuuji wanted a compromise. What's very fucking funny still is that Yuuji reached out to him, first and foremost, realized he can't affect him (that sad look in his eyes) and then switched back to his usual response. Meanwhile Sukuna's still pretending he doesn't care even though he indulged Yuuji and spent nearly an entire day with him before he finally snapped when he realized Yuuji was sad about him lol. Still, the vehement anger Sukuna feels is keeping me rather well fed because Sukuna has no business being so against Yuuji saving Megumi. Like why?? He had no trouble being patient and even explaining his viewpoint when Yuuji DE-ed them away and talked about himself, but then the second Yuuji mentioned saving Fushiguro, he's shaking with rage and promising to kill everyone Yuuji loves.

Chapter 265 is literally:

yuuji: spend some time with me

sukuna: ok

yuuji: so here's what i realized

sukuna: why are you telling this to me oh my god i don't care like i understand your point but i don't feel anyth—

yuuji: i want to save fushiguro

sukuna: 😡🤬😡🤬😠😠🤬😡🤬😡😠🤬 (that wasn't meant for me?!?!?!?!)

I am also brain rotting hard about everything. 266 fueled my brain and filled it with one-sided sukuita fic ideas which are just peak angst and I live for angst so yeah. I'll have to get to writing soon because I have a lot of ideas for these two (the writers block is keeping me away from that, as is my slightly limited english vocabulary and real life unfortunately).

Thank you for sending this ask, anon, and also thank you for listening to me ramble about these two as well! <3 I'm more than happy to discuss these two for eternity because they just make me insane.

[dogcatrabbitbirdfan]

on my satosugu bs

0 people asked, but i am such an insanely firm believer in 'geto fell first, gojo fell harder' and no one will ever convince me otherwise.

we don't see them when they first meet, but it's pretty natural to conclude that geto would've fallen first because why would it have been gojo? likely sheltered, self-centered, god-complex gojo? nope. i think it's pretty easy to fall for gojo, from geto's perspective, and it would've taken gojo a little longer to take down all the walls that he probably had up around letting himself love someone.

who fell HARDER though? oh my lord.

gojo, who showed literally no one else the same respect that he showed geto. gojo, who (despite having other friends) regarded geto as someone special to him on an entirely new level. gojo, who gave up his status as The Strongest so that they could share the title?? don't even.

what i think is the biggest part of geto's character is that once he realized what he wanted for the world, he never sacrificed his character or his own morals in pursuit of that world. for better or worse.

when geto left, though, gojo sacrificed the majority of his character AND morals just as a knee-jerk reaction.

the two times throughout the entire series where we see gojo as anything but overconfident, uncaring, and nonchalant are the two times where he sees geto in a way that hurts him. the first time, geto has killed over a hundred people, and gojo is so panicked that he yells at yaga and clenches his own fist so hard that he bleeds. he then proceeds to let geto go because he can't bring himself to kill the man that he was ordered to kill. the second time, geto is meant to be dead, and gojo is so stuck in the delusion that it might actually be him that he stumbles, lets himself get caught off guard, and gets trapped in the prison realm.

all that isn't even mentioning what he WOULD'VE sacrificed had geto just asked him to.

the problem with what geto did, to gojo, was never the killing. this is probably reasonable to assume because, after riko was killed, he offered up the possibility of killing every person in that room. it's not that he thought those people to be villainous perpetrators deserving of death, either; he knew that the star religious group themselves posed little to no threat. he knew that they didn't know why what they believed was harmful. he was fine with killing them all anyway, though.

since the beliefs that the village held carried the same weight and harm as the beliefs of the star religious group, geto killing them would've been the perfect equivalent of gojo killing the star religious group, which he was very willing to do. so, to gojo, the problem wasn't that geto took out that village, it was that geto didn't need him anymore going forth. this was such a distressing idea to gojo because the same absolutely could not be said for him. he needed geto in every sense of the word; as support, as a partner, as a friend. most importantly: gojo would've NEVER left geto like that. if he wanted to drastically change the way he lived and reshape jujutsu society, he would've asked geto to come with him. if he snapped one day and killed hundreds, geto would've been the first person to hear about it firsthand.

geto loved gojo but didn't let it dictate his decisions, cloud his judgement, or keep him from following his morals.

gojo, however, let his morals become ambiguous, his judgement become muddled and problematic, and would've dropped everything to follow geto if he had just said the word.

gojo was geto's best friend and someone he loved very dearly. geto was gojo's entire world, his only weakness.

[yujeong]

Vegas not knowing about Pete's boxing past is nothing but sloppy writing if you ask me. Paranoia is family trait of the Theerapanyakul clan and no one can convince me Vegas hasn't made background check on every single bodyguard, staff member and associate of the main family. It's also interesting to point out that Vegas knows about Pete's grandma so he must've read something about Pete beforehand. Which is why Vegas not knowing about Pete being a former boxer and victim of domestic abuse is weird. (My God Vegas would've been a dick if he'd had held the latter against Pete.)

But since we're talking Vegas here his paranoia turns into obsession and he makes a file of Pete thick as the Bible post canon. Needles to say, this stirs some drama between the two because even saint like Pete has his limits with Vega's BS.

Hmm, honestly, I'm at this point in my brainrot with kpts/vp that I'd be able to rationalize any plot point, no matter how absurd, while still acknowledging that it's most likely a plot hole (though tbh, BOC could only do so much with the horrid source material they had to deal with, so hats off to them regardless).

For example, one argument I'd use for Vegas not knowing about Pete's backstory, is that Vegas seems surprised Pete has been through similar experiences that he himself has with his own father, not about him doing boxing. I rewatched the scene for the millionth time and as Pete is narrating his story, Vegas' face remains neutral until Pete tells him winning didn't change anything - he was still being beaten up by his bitter father who never became the boxer he wanted to be.

All I'm trying to say here is that Vegas could very well have known about the boxing, but not about the abuse. Maybe nobody from the family knew about the abuse, though I can't claim with confidence that Korn wouldn't know.

However

To Korn (and to Gun), what Pete's father was doing to his son wasn't abuse. It was discipline. It was him showing Pete he loves him. So, maybe Korn knew about it and thought it was good. Or maybe he compared him to Gun and thought Pete's father was a coward and bad at being a father.

Who knows?

I'm not trying to prove you wrong in any way, btw. As I said, if Vegas didn't actually know about Pete doing boxing, then that'd be super weird for someone like him. I just find it fascinating for Vegas to have known about everything in regards to Pete EXCEPT the most important thing that basically makes them connect from that point onwards in the story.

Though, I do have to disagree with you on one thing - or more precisely, express my doubts: I don't believe Vegas would have had the guts to use the abuse Pete suffered by his father against him. ESPECIALLY after Pete sees what happens at the basement between Vegas and Gun.

Vegas is a hypocrite and a coward when it comes to Pete. He'd be facing a mirror - and Vegas really hates himself and what the reflection would show back. We see it throughout their arc plenty of times and with the abuse element added in, it'd go to astronomical levels imo.

Did Vegas cross the line with Pete a million times? Yes. Would he cross it on this subject? Hmm, idk. I'm willing to believe so, but I'd never write it myself.

Now, about post-canon, many people in the fandom have said the same thing as you and I believe the same. He'd want to know e v e r y t h i n g about Pete, down to the last detail, and on the days he'd feel especially shitty, which would be most days, he'd want to drag Pete down with him.

We were talking just today with @wretchedamaranth about Pete snapping after everything that happened in ep14 + hospital era, and tbh we can add this one in it, too: Vegas' need to pry Pete open would push him to his limit.

And Pete isn't like Vegas. He wouldn't snap like Vegas does, and I'm trembling just thinking about what that would entail.

[resident-idiot-simp]

Price being ready to murder Riley was NOT what I was expecting but I'm here for it. Are we allowed to ask for hcs for this au? Because honestly im curious what Riley thinks of Price and such.

- Kidney Anon (who is wearing their nametag with pride)

Not expecting Price to want to kill Riley? You must be new here lmao

Me and Az-

Omegas are very much dominant in this universe

Az-

(about Price) at first he's like meh, another alpha but quickly doesn't like his attitude to Tav

Tav loves how Riley is protective but also so bemused at someone being protective over him

The moment Riley realised he had a real chance with Tav he started a whole 10 year plan

(how they get together) So shit goes real south on a mission, Tav's injured and the meds and stress and timing all fuck up his hormones/suppressents. So its just them and they need to get it under control, etc, becoming fwb. Riley's like "chance!" and Tav is happy to have a decent alpha around who doesn't make his teeth ache

Me-

Riley goes into rut and starts begging for Tav. Tav sees it him but it's actually something deeper so that's how they get together

Also Price helped with his heat a few times (before MW2) so he thinks he's entitled to something more with Tav

Also with them being made Price can't take advantage of Tav so it prevents everything that goes wrong (essay on what I mean)

Az-

Riley going on leave for rut only to have his neighbour call up Tav because "your alpha won't shut up, come and deal with him!" It works tho since Tav expected Riley to find another omega

(more will come)

Price staring to say dismissive things about his chosen alpha, ignoring their mating bond to suggest he could be better. Imagining he says this infront of other 141 who all share a look and slowly start backing away

Me-

Roach is their son in this universe

Also all the 141 alpha's/Beta's sniff after MacTavish like he's the holy Grail

Price trys so hard to separate them and he's doing double time and trying to convince Tav to drop Riley. Price is convinced that if Riley dies the bond will break.. and normally it would but maybe there's something deeper tying them together

(Az) alternatively, he steps a little to out of line at some point, like just before they're about to set out on that mission, and Tav just snaps. is he hormonal and preggers? maybe.

It's all going fine until MacTavish just freezes and just start screaming at him. He has been putting up with his BS for far too long. He drags him through the mud. Pulls out every insecurity Price didn't even know he had. Gloats that he'll never be with Price that he needs to get over it. He wasn't a good alpha no matter how much he thought he was

Az-

"I've ripped out the throats of alpha Generals who were more useful than you are."

"You couldn't get me to bend as a rookie SGT without pushing me down, I voluntarily go to my knees for Simon"

"You don't want me, you don't want a strong omega, you want someone you can dominate. You want me because having me come to heal for you would be the biggest ego stroke there is."

Tav leaning in to whisper into a shocked Price's ear: "he prefers getting on his knees for me"

(me) And you don't know him. You don't know what an honor it is to have that alpha to trust you with his life. I've killed alphas for less then what you are insinuating now. But that alpha he has never wanted anything more than I would give him. And he thinks me for every scrap I throw him

Price looking around expecting some support from all the alphas standing around gawking except they're all basically enthralled with Tav

Roach shipped it from the start now he's doing everything he can to ensure he gets those sibling in year 6 of the plan

I also like the idea of Tav either ripping his throat out or like shooting/stabbing his arm and basically forcing his retirement

(preg Tav) they only find out a while after the fallout tho, when Shepherd tries some shit and he does rip his throat out, its not heat related and he didn't attack tav or riley so they have to investigate. A pregnant omega killing an alpha is pretty much the same

Me

Tav also 100% gets even more mean when he's pregnant. It's like a switch flipped man is outright hostile and Riley loves every minute of it

People confuse Riley for the pregnant Omega because of just how much he smells of Tav and it makes Tav irrationally happy.

Tavs mentality while pregnant is, 'If I can't be more pregnant I'll make him pregnant' so the sex is wild

Az-

riley, shocked, sitting at the table: "...."

soldier: "aren't u gonna celebrate? bout time honestly, thought with the way u 2 got at it the cap would've been bred long ago"

riley: "if it were that easy, i'd be the one pregnant"

soldier: "...."

[taytrashmouth]

Falling for you

Jj Maybank x female reader.

TW: implied sex, swearing, fluff, mentions of underage drinking/smoking and domestic violence

:readmore:

You grew up living next door to the maybanks, mostly alone, you’re parents worked and weren’t the most reliable.

You first met Jj when you were 10 years old, you heard banging and yelling from next door, so you ran onto the porch to see Mr Maybank beating the shit out of jj.

You were ashamed of yourself but you froze, not knowing what to do. Until you saw Mr Maybank drive away, leaving jj at home.

You walked across the connected yard and up onto their porch.

You knocked on the door, hearing crying from inside. “Go away!” He yelled.

You knocked again.

“What?” He almost screamed as he opened the door, taken aback when he saw you. He always watched you when you stood on your porch painting for hours on end, but he never had the courage to talk to you.

You stared at each other for a moment.

“Do you wanna come over?” You blurted out, unaware of what else to say.

He just nodded and followed you back to your house, less than 30 steps away.

You lead him to your extremely neat bedroom full of beautiful paintings and books, white and green were the most prominent colors as he looked around.

“You painted these?” He asked, although he knew the answer.

“Yeah, it’s my favorite thing to do….other than read.”

He nodded. There was a silence, neither of you knew what to say.

“I heard what happened.” You spoke.

He just looked down.

“My dad does it too you know?”

“What?” He was shocked that someone could bring themselves to hurt such a sweet individual. He has seen you reading in the garden, or sitting by the water on the pier or helping injured animals.

You simply hugged him. He stood for a moment, before tears fell from his eyes and he hugged back.

After that day, you’d occasionally listen to him talk about John B, another pouge or a fish he caught that day. But you were never really that close, but he always remembered the day you hugged him, the day you made him feel like he deserved more than what he was given.

As Jj grew older you admired him a little more, tall, handsome, muscles.

And as you grew jj admired you, he never seemed to commit to a girl but hell- if he had the chance you’d be his forever.

Your long hair, sweet smile, pretty little eyes and the perfect body. You seemed like an Angel where as he seemed to carry trouble around with him.

It was one year at the bonfire, both of you were now 17 when jj saw you through the flames, beer in hand. Everyone was either drinking or smoking, dancing or talking, you sat alone, reading your book, in your own little world.

���Jj!” Pope yelled.

“Yeah.” He snapped back into reality.

“Dude!Are you staring at y/n l/n?” John B scoffed.

Jj was quiet.

“Oh my god dude, there’s no way!” Pope smiled.

“What what?”

“She’s just-“ John B shrugged.

“She’s gorgeous dude, but she’s so…I don’t know nice, you can’t have like a one night stand with her, it’s like throwing away a puppy.” Pope explained

“Imma do it”

Jj thought for a moment before walking over to you, ignoring his friends. He sat down next to you, and your head didn’t move from the pages.

“Hey.” He spoke.

“Oh.” You smiled. “Hi.”

He looked at you for a second before speaking. “Do you maybe wanna hang out with me and my friends for a while?” He asked.

It took you a second to realize he wanted to spend time with you.

You nodded and he helped you up, leading you to John B, pope and Kiara and Sarah who had now joined them.

“This is y/n everybody, and that’s John B, Sarah, pope and kie.” Jj introduced as you waved innocently.

“Hey, hi.” Everyone waved.

“You guys wanna hit the water?” Jj asked and soon enough everyone was on John Bs boat, just riding slowly along the water.

“I really like your top.” You told Sarah and her smile grew wide, immediately telling you about this store she loved.

You smiled and nodded.

“Y/n you want a beer?” Jj asked.

“I’m okay thanks…I don’t drink.” You spoke softly.

They all frowned.

“Just makes me anxious, besides when all of you are falling overboard I’ll be the designated captain.” You smiled and they all chuckled.

The night went on, smiling and talking, enjoying the air. You and jj were lying at the back of the boat playing 20 questions which ended up just being questions.

“Favorite musician ?” Jj asked staring at the sky.

“Mmm, Taylor swift.” You answered and he pushed himself up onto his elbow to look at you.

“Dude!” He exclaimed.

“What!?”

“Really? She’s so- I don’t know.” He sighs.

“Amazing, talented, gorgeous, phenomenal?” You asked. “Come on who’s yours?”

“Metallica.” He lay back down.

“Dude !” You copied.

“What?” He laughed and you just shook your head.

“Nothing they’re a great band.” You laughed again. He smiled at the sound, it gave him butterflies.

The game went on for ages until John B dropped you both off at the pier by your houses.

“Okay okay, but seriously what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?” Jj asked.

“Ummm, I haven’t really-“

“Oh come on! Everyone says your so reserved and quiet I think there’s a catch.” Jj added as you both sat on the pier looking at the water.

“You know the cliff, above the water near the center of obx?” I asked and he nodded, “I once did a backflip off of there.”

“Bullshit!” He smiled.

“It is not!” You pushed his shoulder playfully.

“I bet you can’t even do a backflip.”

“Can too!”

“Prove it.” He smirked, cocking his head at the water.

“Fine….on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“I get to paint you….while we listen to Taylor swift.” You smiled.

“Deal.”

You stood up and removed your baggy t-shirt to reveal your stripy bikini top, slipping off your white jean shorts, leaving them on the pier.

You caught jj’s eyes lingering a little too long and prayed he couldn’t see you blush.

“You ready?” You asked him.

“Yeah.” He smiled at you.

You stood at the edge of the pier and pushed off, doing a backflip into the water.

“Shit that’s cold!” You yelled as you surfaced.

“You alright?” Jj asked with genuine concern.

You nodded as he helped you back onto the pier.

“That was great!” He smirked.

“Okay wait here!” You yelled, quickly sprinting to your house to get your speaker and paint.

Pretty soon you were sitting on your porch in your shorts and bikini top, painting jj onto a small canvas.

“You paint people often?” He asked as Taylor swift blared into the night, she wasn’t that bad he thought.

“No! Ive got no one to paint, I mostly paint landscapes, the beach, the outer banks.” You explained.

He watched the way you focused. And smiled to himself.

“What?” You asked.

“Nothing.” He shook his head still smiling.

“What?”

“It’s just- you’re really pretty.” He spoke softer then before.

You blushed like crazy as a feeling you’d never experienced flew around inside. A buzz of bliss and admiration.

“Almost done?” Jj asked, clearing his throat.

“No, but I’ve got the basics down, just need to shade and stuff-“ you paused when you head all too well start to play.

You smiled.

“What?” He asked.

“I love this song.”

He almost laughed at your excitement.

You stood up and helped him off the floor as well.

“Dance with me?” You smiled all giddy like a child playing with their favorite toy.

“I don’t dance.” He shook his head.

“Please!” You started swinging his hands.

He sighed heavily as he spun you around, and you giggled happily.

The hold you had over him was unreal, especially considering you barely knew each other.

You mouthed the lyrics dramatically as he laughed. His smile made you happy.

He grabbed your hips and you swayed as the song slowed, and jumped around when it picked up, spinning and singing for 10 whole minutes. Jj hadn’t had this much fun in years.

He saw the sky start to turn orange, signaling the sunrise. “Come on.” He pulled you by the hand towards his house.

“Where are we going?” You asked grabbing your shirt and your book.

“You’ll see!” See smiled and dragged you towards his bike.

He climbed on but you stopped.

“You scared?” He asked.

“A little.”

“Don’t be. I’ve got you.” He spoke in such an assuring manner that you climbed on to the back of the bike, arms loosely around his waist.

As the bike moved forwards your grip tightened dramatically. He smiled, the feeling of you so close made him weak.

Your eyes were shut tightly as you felt the bike climb up hill until the road felt flat again.

“You seeing this?” He shouted over the wind.

You shook your head against his back.

“Oh come on n/n!” He smiled.

The nickname made you flustered as you opened your eyes and saw the sun peaking over the ocean, the sky red and orange.

“It beautiful.” You whispered.

“Perfect for you then.” Jj spoke.

There was that feeling again, and it only heightened as he sped up, climbing higher and higher, up on the island.

You giggled. “WHOOOOHOOOOO.” You screamed and laughed again. Jj laughed too and copied you.

When you reached the highest point in the outer backs jj pulled you to the edge of the cliff where you both sat. Just in time to watch the sunrise.

“This is amazing.” You smiled.

“Isn’t it?”

You both watched the sun on the water for a while in a comfortable silence, legs swinging off the ledge. Feeling more alive than ever.

You turned to jj at the same time he turned to you, realizing how close you were.

He examined your face and you examined his.

He glanced at your lips. “Jj.” You whispered.

“Mm.” He hummed still staring at your lips.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.” You spoke so softly, almost embarrassed you looked down.

“Then you’re all mine.” He lifted your chin and your lips collided.

Passion exploding inside of you.

His lips were softer than you expected and he pulled you closer as your hands played with his hair.

you pulled away smiling shyly at him. “You’re beautiful n/n.”

Normally he would be taking you back to his place by now, but you were different than the other girls he’d gone out with. You were sweet, and smart, kind and worth spending time with.

“Thank you…for everything.” You smiled. He frowned. “This is the most fun I’ve had in…forever.”

“Me too.”

~~~~

It only took 2 weeks for you to officially start dating.

Jj quickly became your best friend and you became his.

You would lie under the willow tree behind your houses, his head on your stomach as you read to him. He didn’t admit it but that was his favorite thing to do, hearing you read.

He taught you how to surf, he was cocky at first until you got the hang of it and we’re almost as good as him…almost.

One day you got knocked of your board and something stung you, Jj quickly stopped cheering you on along with pope and Sarah when he noticed your face.

He helped you onto the beach most of your leg was red and purple, and some blood poured from it.

“Shit baby are you okay?” Jj asked, looking more scared than you.

“Yeah just hit some coral or something when I fell.” You spoke, face twisted in pain.

“C-can you walk?” He asked and you simply shook your head.

“Pope call the ambulance.” He spoke firmly.

“Pope!” Jj yelled so frantically both Sarah and pope sprinted to go find help.

Jj was so protective over you it was a little concerning at times.

“Jayj- I’m okay.” You half smiled at him and he shook his head frantically, picking you up bridal style to take you closer to the road where the ambulance would be.

You were fine a week later, and it was no big deal but Sarah swears she’s never seen anyone look as terrified as Jj was that day.

But you had seen him more scared, more protective…only once.

When he saw you sitting by the pier and he walked over to surprise you, only to realise that you were crying as he got closer.

“Hey it’s okay! What’s wrong baby!” He sat down and tried to hug you when he realised your lip was bleeding and you’d eye was black.

He pulled you into him as you sobbed. “Who did this to you?” He asked. Angrier than ever. Who the fuck would lay a finger on his girl. His sweet y/n.

“Was it your dad!?” He asked.

You just nodded. You had held him as he cried many times after an encounter with his father, cleaned him up and told him you loved him many times. But he had never seen you like this.

“I’ll kill him.” He stood up.

“Jayj- he left, gone to Vegas or some shit!” You called.

All these bad experiences only made you love him more.

But so did the good times. Like when he took you dancing by the beach. Or when you’d paint and he’d just talk to you like nothing else mattered, or when you’d get a new outfit or a bikini and he’d tell you that you were gorgeous and kiss you like it was the first time.

Or when he took you fishing, he would fish and you would read.

Or when he finally admitted that he’d become a swiftie and that it was strictly between the two of you.

Jj swore you were an Angel that was sent to even out his evil. When he got angry you’d calm him down, you’d make sure he never smoke or drink too much, you kept him healthy.

~~~~

About 6 months into your relationship jj decided to tease you a little. While you were cooking he hugged you from behind and you smiled.

“I love you.” He whispered. “I love you too.” You answered.

“Stand over there.” He pointed to a spot in the lounge.” Before you could ask why he gave you a look that said trust me.

So you did.

“What now?” You asked as he stood in front of you.

“This.” He whispered as he smiled, slamming you into the wall, pinning you there while his other hand grabbed your thigh and wrapped it around his hip. He smiled into the kiss and you smiled wider and slid out from his grasp giggling like a little kid.

He remembered that from one of your books.

“You like that?” He asked as you were still flustered.

You nodded excitedly.

“Let’s do that again.” You pointed to your bedroom. “In there.” You smirked.

His eyes widened. “You sure you’re ready n/n?” He asked, you’d been putting it off for months, scared because it was new.

But you knew jj was who you wanted to be with forever. “Because you don���t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He spoke.

It only made you more sure you were ready.

“I’m sure let’s goooo.” You smiled walking towards your room.

“Not gonna say no to that.”

You were safe with him and he was safe with you.

Sure he was loud and you were quiet, he was messy and you were neat. And sure you seemed like polar opposites but he was yours.

It was the silly things he did that allowed you to loosen up a little, be more like yourself and be less reserved. The way you joked with each other or the way you jumped up and down when you were excited, the way he licked your cheek and you lick him back with a frown. The way he’d grab your ass in public just to make you jump. Or how you’d drag him around the bookstore for hours.

It just worked.

[acowardinmordor]

My brain won't shut up about this, so maybe if I write it my brain will let me finish working and get this massive work project off my plate.

Warning for Accidental Drunken Pregnancy

Fandom loves, correctly, the idea of Girl!Steve Harrington, either as an 'always a' or trans, we're a fan. And that's good. No arguments from me there.

But I was thinking about Always a Girl Eddie. And the impact that would have. Because see, Eddie is already Wrong in a lot of ways. She's poor, she's loud, she's a freak, she sells drugs, and starts shit with bullies. She's too much in every way, and she refuses to be a girl properly. Has ever since she was old enough to express an opinion.

She didn't want to play with dolls or play house. She wanted to run through the park chasing dragons. When her parents fought, she wanted to run away and get found by the Addams family where no one would be mad at her for liking black and reading about blood and fights and monsters.

By the time she's in high school, everyone's decided she's a lesbian. She isn't. She thinks she isn't, but she doesn't get a chance to try or test or find out before the whole damn town has made it Known. Eddie doesn't wear skirts, and she doesn't style her hair, and she doesn't listen when the counselor sits her down to talk about her behavior and how she needs to try to be a bit more like other girls if she wants to get married one day. That's her junior year, which is when she snaps and, true or not, goes on a rant about being a carpet munching butch who never wants to have a husband.

Her friends don't care. They've talked to her and agree its all bullshit. Her only regret about it is that her outburst becomes fodder for the kind of bias that makes her fail two classes her senior year. It makes her fail four her second time around. PE is one of them. The teacher won't let her participate if she isn't 'dressed appropriately' which suddenly requires that all the girls have their legs shaved. Surprise surprise, Eddie is the only one that has an impact on. Wayne gets into a shouting match over it, and he wins, but not in time for Eddie to pass.

And every time someone pushes her to be more ladylike, Eddie doubles down on being a freak because she's a lot of things, but she's not a quitter. The one good she knows she manages is that barely any other girls in Hawkins get bullied all that much. Eddie pulls too much attention, and Eddie is so far off the end of the scale, it makes the minor mistakes easy to ignore.

All her friends are guys because the girls of Hawkins are scared of the witch/lesbian/succubus/whatever bs they came up with this week. There are some girls who Eddie thinks want to come talk to her, thinks she'd be friends with if she could, but any girl willingly hanging around the Freak is going to get painted with the same brush.

She showed up to every single class in her third go around, daring her teachers to fail her again when she was getting perfect scores on anything with a straight answer, and doing so well on the subjective stuff they were giving her passing grades. She had a new flock of sheep who didn't care about the rumors because she ran Hellfire for them.

After Spring Break, after they accuse her of seducing and murdering Chrissy, after Eddie walks into Mordor and is dragged out the other side. After Eddie gives everything she has for a town that hates her, the school gives her the diploma. Maybe its just because they're terrified that she'll come back for a fourth try if they don't, but she has the damn thing.

Or maybe they don't want the new freshmen to start crying when they see her scars.

After the hospital lets them all leave, and after El and Will do whatever it is they do and promise it's over for real this time, Robin, Eddie, and Harrington sit around and watch crap movies and talk. It's still June when Robin comes out to her, and Eddie has to awkwardly explain that she isn't. Supportive, in favor of it, but not sure if she's like Robin.

"But everyone heard about what you said to--"

"Yeah, she was telling me I should start curling my hair and wearing makeup so I could find a husband."

"She did not."

"Yeah. I kinda snapped."

A few minutes tearing apart that kind of thinking later, and Steve asks, "So you like dudes?"

Eddie shrugs, because she's never tested that either. A bit of leftover enmity from when he was the King and she was the Freak keeps her from admitting she's a virgin. Instead she gestures to her face and neck, the part of her chest visible around her tank top.

"Don't think that's going to matter, Stevie, not now that I look like the Wicked Witch midway through melting."

There's nothing either of them can say about that. Between her status as a murder suspect, the infection from Upside Down dirt, and how efficient the demo bat fuckers were, her scars are ugly. Not the sort of thing she's read in books that a hero learns to take pride in. Just a mess. Her smile is jacked up on the left, and while she does have both of her nipples, the one boob is significantly smaller, and lumpier than the other now.

But they're friends, and its nice. Robin didn't find a fellow lesbian, but Eddie can understand the way she feels, and they bond over it. Where Robin goes, so goes Steve, so intentional or not, Eddie and Steve get close. Help each other with scar cream type close. It would be weird if there was any universe in which Steve would ever be interested in her. Instead they're good friends, and co-conspirators against the gremlins.

Robin is starting college in the spring semester in Chicago. Steve is going with her. Obviously. Eddie hasn't agreed to anything, but she's considering it.

They have one last party at Harrington's place. The kids leave around seven. The Hellfire guys leave around nine. By eleven, all three of them are plastered, and Robin is lamenting that she's leaving Hawkins and still hasn't kissed a girl. Eddie rolls her eyes and smacks one on her. Get it over and done with, right?

After an hour of Robin flustered and babbling about 'yes, yes, yeah, I do like girls! Kissing! Kissing girls is great! Steve! Steve-o! Did you know kissing girls is great?" she passes out on the couch.

Steve and Eddie, just sober enough to know that they're all going to be hungover in the morning, close blinds and lock doors. They leave water and asprin by Robin, then chug down a glass each.

"So, did it help you figure it out? Kissing my Soulmate with a capital P? Did you figure out if you like kissing girls more than guys?"

Eddie giggles instead of answering.

"I know Rob's not kissed anyone, but if you liked kissing her you probably could tell, right? So if you liked kissing her as much as you like kissing guys, or if its not like kissing guys, then you know!"

Steve's not a dumb as the kids joke. When Eddie doesn't answer, he puts it together. "Oh. Oh shit. Eds. You and Robin were each others' first kisses? Thats so -- you didn't have to do that! And now you don't know if you like kissing girls or guys or both or neither or -- Oh!"

Eddie watches Steve come to his decision and turn, and she decides to let it happen. Steve is the only guy her age who doesn't wince looking at her face. This is probably the only chance she's got until she's old enough her skin gets all wrinkly and no one can see the scars are there anymore.

It's better than kissing Robin. There's a lot of reasons why that might be true, but none of them matter, because after that first one. After a few seconds pause. After she leans a little closer like she's asking, they don't stop.

She wakes up naked and sore, with a blinding headache and the tight-skin pain that comes from forgetting the scar cream.

Awkward doesn't cover it when they look at each other in bed. When Robin trips on her way to make coffee, it gives them an excuse not to talk about it. It's bad enough that Eddie keeps thinking about it, and excavating the fragments of memory she's got. Probably the only chance she's going to get, and she remembers barely half. She does remember liking it, and Steve liking it, and neither of them being weird about the scars because they've been helping each other with them for months now.

Once they're sober enough for it, they talk, both of them apologizing, but not really. Neither of them regret it, even if it wasn't their best idea, and Eddie starts quoting Robin's rant about antiquated concepts of virginity when Steve tries to apologize for that. It's definitely weird, but they're not going to freak out about it.

By Wednesday, when Steve and Rob are loading up the beemer to drive north before the holidays, so they could get a place with a rental discount, everyone turns out to say bye. Eddie winks at Robin again, because it still makes her blush, and it still makes Eddie and Steve laugh when she does. She gives Steve a hug, and a promise to make a decision soon about moving up with them.

Six weeks of scheduled phone calls with them, and uncomfortable talks with Wayne, Eddie has finally, finally decided to go for it. She'll still be a freak, but according to Steve, no one in the city will bother her about it unless she asks them to. He's working at a diner, and swears the bookstore across the street will totally hire Eddie if she applies. Robin loves her classes, and her part time hours at the library on campus.

It's while Eddie is looking around and opening drawers, trying to plan how to move with more detail than 'throw stuff in the van' that she notices. There's a box of pads, mostly empty, in the corner of the bathroom cabinet. It's been mostly empty since November. And yeah, her period has never been predictable, and this isn't the longest its gone, and Eddie has never cared since she wears black all the time -- but. This time she had sex.

The odds are tiny, and the image of it is ridiculous. Eddie isn't any kind of a mom. Harrington is more a mom than she is. Anyway, all that shit in sex ed about it only takes once is crap. And she remembers Steve getting out the box of condoms. She doesn't remember anything between that and getting fucked, but she definitely remembers how concerned he was about opening the foil. So there's no way. No chance. Absolutely none.

The test comes back positive, and the nurse at the planed parenthood in Indianapolis asks if she wants to hear about her options.

It's pretty easy to choose as it turns out. Easier than quitting smoking cold turkey is for sure. Hell of a lot easier than telling Wayne. It's not something she ever wanted, ever thought about or considered, but Eddie knows this is the only chance she's got. Well. Sperm donors maybe, not that she'll ever have the money for it, unless she paid a guy to keep coming around until she got knocked up.

At first, she keeps it quiet because the nurse told her about the potential problems, especially with how much Eddie drank and smoked. It's not certain, so she stays quiet. Stalls the topic of moving up. She waits an entire day for the doctor to slip her in between appointments to get an ultrasound and check. Everything looks good. Healthy. and Eddie gets on their weekly scheduled call, hears Robin and Steve laughing as they tell stories, and Eddie breaks it to them.

"What do you mean? You said you were going to move up here. I thought you said you -- Eds, what the hell? You're going to leave me alone to watch Robin's attempts at flirting? You - I thought you promised."

"Excuse you, Dingus, she needs to come up so we can watch your attempts at flirting. I'm great."

"Fun as that sounds, me and Wayne are getting out of Hawkins. Wayne has some family in West Virginia, and I can't leave him at the mercy of all those spinsters. I'll still have a phone, you know."

They move before she's showing, and Wayne never asks, and Eddie never tells, but her uncle knows who it has to be. They land in Summersville, which is a damn lie since its a blizzard when they arrive. It isn't hard to use moving as an excuse to cancel a few phone calls. Then uses a boss moving her hours working at motel as an excuse when hormones means she knows she'll start sobbing if she gets picks up the phone.

Steve gets accepted to a community college. Robin aces her exams. Eddie finds out she's having a girl. She wouldn't have spent the money to find out since it wouldn't change anything, but the planned parenthood was still worried because of the alcohol at the start.

Wayne brings it up. Eddie considers it.

Steve gets a girlfriend. Eddie stalls.

Robin calls solo because Steve is on a one month anniversary date.

Eddie abandons the idea.

She never makes a choice to hide it from anybody. It's always one moment at a time, needing to get through one more thing, one more problem, one more checkpoint, then she could say it. By the end of July it's been too long, and it would be too weird. They didn't have some great tragic romance. They were good friends who got drunk one night. And Eddie is just living up to the warnings all the guidance counselors scribbled down about her.

She's never going to be anything special. She's not going to go chase her dreams and become the Joan Jett of metal music. She's coming up on eight months pregnant, can't hide it or pretend its something it isn't. She's still loud and obnoxious. She still wears all black and chained pants and refuses to style her hair in anything more complex than a ponytail. She's still mauled by monsters and scarred.

She's never going to be marriage material, and never wanted to be anyway. She can be a good mom though. Not a normal mom. Or a traditional one. She's probably going to end up punching someone at a pta meeting. But she can be a good mom for her daughter, whoever her daughter wants to be as she grows. And if that means she has to learn about ballet and glitter and my little pony, then she will.

Steve and Robin ask about a visit before their classes start since they'll have to do calls every other week now. They offer to drive to West Virginia, or buy Eddie a bus ticket. Eddie manages to dodge that bullet.

She dodges another when she starts contractions while on the phone with them, and plays it off like she has heartburn. She cries when she holds her daughter thirty hours later, smiling broad enough that the scars on her face hurt nearly as bad as the rest of her.

She gets good at sewing together a patchwork lie. Gets Wayne to take Lulu out for a walk during calls. Swallows the guilt when Steve talks about his girlfriend, Amy, who wants to have kids. Stares down the pediatrician who raises an eyebrow at her daughter's name.

It's awful. It's wonderful. It hurts more to do it alone than Eddie could have imagined, but she still can't bring herself to say it. Not because she thinks Steve would hate her for it . He wouldn't. One look at Stephanie Luthien Munson -- Lulu -- and Steve would know. And Steve would stay. And Steve would give up his classes and his girlfriend and his hope for his perfect family. Eddie has always known she's not what anyone is looking for.

So Eddie gets good at dodging questions, and explaining away noises in the background, and finding very reasonable excuses not to come out to visit. Very good at it.

She makes it to June of 1989, when her best friends decide it's been too long, and show up for a surprise visit.

Eddie was right though. It only takes a glance at the toddler on Eddie's hip as she opens the door for both of them to know.

[editorofeverything]

Back on my NaLu BS

A little snippet of a fic, but I needed a pallet cleanser from how hard I've been working to finish my long fic and nalu has been plaguing me especially this week, so enjoy a sleepy nalu fic

Natsu stalked across the dark city, a clear destination in mind.

It was late—so late, not a single soul could be found walking the quiet city. Even the streetlights and half-moon high in the sky provided little light between the dark buildings as he stalked through streets and alleyways.

Natsu wasn’t sure why he needed to leave the house. He even left Happy behind in his need to go, leaving the blue cat to snore peacefully on their little cot. He didn’t even grab any clothes, marching through the city with nothing but his sleep shorts on.

It was just—Natsu couldn’t sleep. He was tired, and Happy’s snoring and mumbling usually helped Natsu doze off easily, but tonight was different. Every time Natsu closed his eyes, he thought of golden hair and brown eyes. He thought of a warm scent of vanilla and roses and something else that Natsu couldn’t explain except that it was completely Lucy. He waited and waited to fall asleep, but after a few hours of tossing and turning, Natsu couldn’t ignore the itch at the back of his mind that needed to see her.

So, there he was, following the instinct to find her in the dead of night until he was looking up at her apartment. If he woke her, she would yell at him and throw something, so he had to be careful.

He jumped up to her window, easing it open slowly.

There she was. She was tucked deep within her blankets, top of her head just barely peeking out, but he could smell her calm scent and hear the steady beat of her heart.

Natsu didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t want to leave, even after checking in on her. Would she be really mad if he stayed? He didn’t actually want her to be mad, but it was hard to ignore the instinct that wanted him to stay.

A breeze blew in and Lucy shivered, even under all her blankets.

Natsu was inside closing the window before he knew it. Well, he was already inside. He might as well stay and deal with the consequences tomorrow.

He crawled into bed with Lucy, easing the blanket open to slip next to her warm body. At least she was wearing something this time—Natsu paused with the blanket in his hand, taking in the too big white button down that hung off her shoulders and bunched around her waist, completely covered in his scent.

He didn’t know why he paused on it. Lucy wore his clothes sometimes. Lucy wore no clothes sometimes. Why was it weird that she wore his shirt to bed?

She already had traces of his scent—they spent too much time not to have their scents muddled together at this point. Her apartment especially spelled just as much like him as it did her. So why did this shirt make him feel so strange?

Lucy made a noise in her sleep, shifting onto her side so she was facing him, arms somehow finding him and pulling him closer to her.

“What am I, a pillow,” her mumbled to himself, forgetting the strange feeling the shirt brought out and instead focused on the warmth of Lucy’s skin pressed against his and the calming intermingling of their scents. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

~

Lucy woke slowly, warm and groggy and ready to fall back asleep no matter what the bright stream of sunlight beaming in through her curtains had to say.

“Hmm…” A deep voice hummed, and Lucy jumped out of her skin, snapping her eyes open to someone lying next to her.

It took a moment for her sleepy brain to understand, but it came to her slowly. The blankets had been kicked to the bottom of her bed at some point, probably because a salamander snuck into her bed and overheated her. At some point, Lucy had climbed half on top of him, pressing her front against his as she used him as a pillow and likely a source of heat.

Lucy… didn’t know how to react. She usually got annoyed or embarrassed when Natsu broke into her apartment, but she couldn’t deny in her sleepy state that she slept much better last night than she did in the past year.

Ever since Aquarius... Lucy just couldn't get to sleep, and even when she did, she couldn't stay asleep. Nightmares of losing her friend and her guild plagued her until she forced herself to give up on sleeping.

Natsu grumbled again in his sleep, arms coming around her waist just as he rolled onto his side, taking her with him so that they lied facing each other. Lucy blinked sleepily at his face, completely relaxed and breathing so deeply that Lucy couldn’t bring herself to wake him.

“I’ll yell at you later,” she whispered, tucking herself back into him and letting her eyes droop shut, just missing Natsu’s eyes slitting open. She fell asleep quickly, and Natsu tightened his arms around her and rested his head against hers before falling back asleep himself.