#still not over how tina was killed like. no.

[thebearer]

love, i found you |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: how anchovy berzatto came into your and carmen's lives. or the story of anchovy berzatto, dumpster kitten turned spoiled cat.

contains: mentions of animal being abandoned/ stray kitten. small, malnourished anchovy but nothing graphic (i won't do that to you i promise). mainly fluff. language. richie being a hater a little lol.

word count: 2.9k+

“Chefs, keep the stations clear-” 

“-Has anyone seen Richie?-” 

“-Jeff, I need more branzino for the seven fishes-” 

“-Heard, Tina. There, uh, I think there’s some-” 

“-Carm, have you seen the books for tonight?-” 

“-Has anyone seen Richie? Richie! Where the fuck is he?” 

A chaotic melody of screams meshed together in some kind of disarray of harmony, one speaking over the other, the sound of pots and pans clashing, hisses of sizzling food in them a backtrack to the madness. 

“I’m right here, Sugar.” Richie scoffed, buttoning the front of his jacket. He patted your shoulder in passing, cheek pressing lightly to yours, muttering, “How’re you, sweetheart? Doin’ good?” In passing. 

He was the first to notice you, even over Carmen. The rest of the staff bustling through the kitchen prep, trying to squeeze everything in before the family meal. Carmen had invited you to family, but you were starting to regret agreeing, feeling useless and in the way in the face of the hectic nature. 

“Where have you been?” Sugar huffed at Richie, heels clacking in a stomp towards the office. “I have a million fucking things- oh, hey.” She paused, eyes lighting in a greeting when they landed on you. 

“I didn’t know you were here. How are you?” Sugar hugged you, a soft side hug in greeting that you returned stiffly. 

“I’m good. How are you?” You muttered, eyes still scanning the kitchen. 

Sugar let out a dry laugh, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Ask me in about an hour.” She shook her head. “I have a million fucking things to do as I was telling Richie.” She turned, eyes narrowing pointedly at the man. “Only two dishwashers showed up tonight.” 

“You’re shitting me.” Richie groaned. “That fuckin’ jagoff- take a chance on me, bullshit.” 

“Yeah, so Neil needs to wash utensils tonight between the floor, ok?” Sugar jabbed a manicured nail into her clipboard. 

“Is there anything I can do?” You squeaked, much smaller than you meant it to. Richie and Sugar turned to you, both blinking, like they’d forgotten you were even there. “Carm invited me to family, but I can help. I can wash dishes if you need me too. I don’t have anything else to do.” 

“That would be-” Sugar nodded in a sigh, a small smile spreading across her face. “Did I ever tell you I love you? Seriously.” She turned to Carm, who was passing behind her. “Carm, don’t ever fuck this up with her, you hear me? I’ll kill you.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Carmen muttered, and you knew by the drone in his voice he wasn’t listening, too consumed with other things, discarding vegetable scraps into the trash. 

“This thing is fuckin’ full. Can they not- Oh, hey.” Carmen’s features softened at the sight of you, spine straightening gently. “When’d you get here?” 

“Just a few minutes ago.” You leaned forward, his lips brushing your cheek softly in greeting. “I didn’t want to disrupt. You seemed… busy.” 

Carmen snorted. “Yeah, uh, that’s a word for it. Busy, out of my fuckin’ mind because this trash is fuckin’ full!” He boomed at no one in particular. 

“Now, I gotta take this out and replace it, and that puts us back, and every second counts, does it not, cousin?” Carmen rambled, glaring at Richie, yanking the sides of the trashcan off the rim. 

“Look, I didn’t know that the two didn’t show-” 

“-No, of course you didn’t. Can’t pay attention to shit-” 

“-Alright, let’s bring it down.” Sugar lifted her hands, eyeing Carmen with a slight nod of her head towards you. 

“Sorry.” Carmen muttered, eyes lifting to you. “Sorry, cousin. I-I’m just, we’re fuckin’ booked, an-and I’m so far behind-” 

“-I’ll take it.” You squeaked, a little too eagerly. Carmen’s brows furrowed, you cut him off before he could finish. “No, seriously, you’re all busy. I’ll go take this out and then I’ll help make sure the utensils are ready.” 

“N-No, I can’t ask you to do that. That would be shitty.” Carmen shook his head, pulling the trash bag out of the can. 

“Good thing you didn’t ask me. I offered.” Your hand wrapped over his, squeezing his closed fist gently with a tiny grin. “Go, I got it.” 

Carmen beamed, cheeks tinging pink. If he wouldn’t have been in the middle of the kitchen prep rush, he would’ve kissed you, pressed you right up against the wall and smooched you sloppy. Instead, he let you take the trash. 

“Gary!” Richie called behind you. “Make sure you let her back in, alright? Just knock and he’ll let you back in. You’re a fucking life saver, y’know that?” Richie beamed, pushing the heavy steel door open so you could duck under his arm. 

It was surprisingly warm- well, warm-ish for Chicago in the winter. No snow, no need for a heavy jacket but brisk enough for a chill. The dumpster lid was already flipped over, and you were thankful for that, slinging the bag over the edge, turning to go back inside. 

You stopped, halting just as you’d turned. The tiniest squeak of a cry, desperate and alert. You turned scanning the alley walls, the corners by the dumpster until you heard it again, that same pitiful whimper echoing off the metal of the dumpster- inside the dumpster. 

You hesitated for a moment. You couldn’t leave it, whatever it was, it sounded pathetic and in pain. Your eyes flickered back to the building, you could see Gary in the small window, head turned towards the others. They were so busy, you couldn’t ask Carmen or even Fak. 

“I’ll be right back.” You cooed towards the dumpster frantically. “Just hold tight for me, ok? I’ll get you out, one sec.” It was silly, but you felt the need to say it, even if just for yourself. 

Sprinting towards the door, you knocked on the glass rapidly. Gary pushed it open. “I need your help.” You stopped him before he could walk away. “J-Just for a second. I promise.” 

Gary’s brows furrowed. “Yeah, are you- you’re ok?” 

“Yeah, I mean,” You turned towards the dumpster. “There’s something in there. I think it’s a cat? I think it’s hurt.” 

“A cat?” Gary’s eyes widened, still, he followed your furious pace towards the dumpster. “Wait, I-I don’t think- Lemme get Carm-” 

“-No, he’s busy.” You shook your head. “It will just take me a second. I just need you to help me get down.” 

Gary paused, watching you in complete awe- maybe horror- push off a discarded crate towards the ledge of the dumpster. “This is- no, this is fuckin’ crazy, I’m sorry. You don’t know what that thing has-” 

Your small gasp cut him off, eyes rounding in awe. There in the piles of trash, a fuzzy blip of orange fur nestled into the black bags- a tiny, scraggly kitten, mewling helplessly. 

“Oh my God,” You muttered. “It’s a baby.” 

“A baby?” Gary gawked. 

“A kitten baby.” You corrected, lip jutting. “I have to get it.” 

“I really don’t think you should be doin’ this.” Gary looked back at the door then to you. “You can’t go in the dumpster, c’mon.” 

“You want to go in instead?” You huffed, eyes rolling at his disgusted snarl. “Just- I’ll do it.” You leaned to the side, taking a deep breath of fresh air, swallowing down a gag at the expected smell. 

Holding your breath, you let yourself fall into the dumpster, the squishy bags of trash uneasy under your feet. The small kitten whined, crying at the shift of your weight. 

“This is fuckin’ insane.” Gary muttered, shaking his head. 

“Aye, Sweeps, what the fuck?” Richie’s voice boomed, the slam of the door making both of you jump. “Take your smoke break later, you jagoff, I need your-” 

“-I’m not-” Gary huffed in annoyance. “She’s in the dumpster.” 

“Who?” Richie asked. 

“Me!” You swallowed a retch, the pungent stench of the trash filling your senses as you crouched closer towards the kitten. At least it wasn’t summer. 

“Why the fuck is Carmen’s girl in the dumpster?” Richie roared. “Carmen! Get out here now, cousin!” 

“Why is she in the dumpster? Why the fuck are you in the dumpster?” Richie’s furious stomps were muted from the outside. You cringed, still trying to hold your breath, coaxing the small kitten into your hold. 

The poor thing, so small- so fucking small. Shaking in your hold, crying and whining, but turned into the warmth of your palm. A cry bubbled from your chest, mixing with a gag at the smell. 

“Cousin, what? What the fuck is-” Carmen bounded outside, stopping when he saw the top of your head pop up, out of the dumpster. “The fuck?” 

“Your girl’s in the garbage.” Richie shook his head. 

“Yeah, why the fuck- Baby, w-why are you- What are you doin’?” Carmen jogged towards you, hoisting himself over the side of the dumpster, arm extended for you. 

“She found a cat.” Gary rolled his eyes in annoyance. 

“A cat?” Richie repeated. 

“A kitten.” You showed Carmen, pulling the small thing from your chest, where you cradled him close to you. 

Carmen blinked at you. “You went in the dumpster f-for a cat? A cat?” He shook his head, confused. “Baby, that thing could have diseases a-and rabies and shit-” 

“-He’s starving.” You countered, lip jutting in a firm pout. Carmen hated the way he could feel himself melting. The determination in your glare, ferocious yet soft. 

“I could hear him crying, a-and I couldn’t leave him.” You shook your head, petting the tiny kitten’s soft fur. 

“So you climbed in the trash?” Richie snarled in disgust. 

“Climbed right in the dumpster.” Gary nodded. 

“Alright.” Carmen looked over his shoulder at them, a pointed glare on his face. “Just- Lemme get you outta there, alright?” 

“Here,” You handed him the small cat, carefully cradling him. Carmen hesitated, a grimace in his scowl. Your eyes narrowed at him, a warning. “Hold him gently.” 

So he did, of course he did, it’s what you wanted. Passing him to Richie with the same snarl of instructions, pulling you out of the dumpster, a firm hold on your waist as you climbed back over. 

Richie was passing you the kitten with a grimace of disgust, dusting his hands off dramatically. “There. There’s your garbage cat that can not come back in the restaurant. Cousin,” He glared at Carmen. “We don’t want another fuckin’ C. Get shut down for havin’ fleas or shit.” 

Carmen glared at him. “No, he’s right.” You nodded. “Can you bring me my purse? I’m going to see if I can get him checked out. I’ll be back.” 

“Let me come with you.” Carmen offered, motioning for Gary to go get your things, untying his blue apron. 

“Carm, no. You’re busy. I can do it.” You shook your head. 

Carmen rolled his eyes. “No, I’m comin’ with you. Last time I let you do somethin’ alone. End up in the fuckin’ garbage.” He snorted playfully. “Besides, I think there’s a place down the street. The vet has been in a few times. I’ll see if I can, y’know, coerce him to squeeze us in.” 

“Coerce?” You lifted your brows playfully, petting the tiny kitten gently, trying to still his quivering. 

“Yeah, coerce.” Carmen rolled his eyes, swapping his apron out for his jacket, handing you yours. “Give ‘im a free dinner or somethin’.” 

“No fuckin’ way, no.” Richie shook his head. “Cousin, you’re already late- Sydney is pissed, and you’re not bringing that fuckin’ flea bag in here.” 

You held the small cat close to your chest, still damp from his bath at the vet. Carmen’s coercing had worked, Dr. Vallenti had took the bribe happily, squeezing you both in for a check up. The tiny kitten, barely two pounds, malnourished and positively pitiful. You didn’t even have to ask, Carmen knew from the way you held him close to your chest, eyes rounding just barely when the vet asked if you’d be keeping him. 

“Of course,” Carmen nodded easily, squeezing your knee gently. “Just give him whatever he needs for right now, and what we need t’get. We’ll get it.” 

“He doesn’t have fleas, Richie.” You sneered, cradling the small cat in your jacket to keep him warm. His shake was down to a soft tremble, not as constant but still there. 

“Yeah fuckin’ right, rabies then-” 

“-Cousin.” Carmen sneered. Richie stopped with a huff, throwing his arms up and muttering something as he stormed away. 

“Here,” Carmen muttered, a hand on the small of your spine, pushing you into his office. “I’ll grab you a bowl and a plate for his food, alright? You just, just stay in here, ok? Richie’s right, he can’t be out.” 

“I’ll keep him in here.” You nodded, sitting in the small chair. “Do you have a towel?” 

“Yeah, I’ll grab that too.” Carmen slung his jacket off, running a hand through his messy curls. “I, uh, I gotta get scrubbed up and put my stuff on, but if you need anything just yell, alright?” He ducked out to the small closet, snatching a towel and two dishes off the drying rack. 

“I’ll be alright.” You hummed, fingertip tracing down the kitten’s tiny head. He purred under your touch, made your chest burst with warmth. 

Carmen’s lips pulled in a smile, putting the dishes on the ground for you, shedding his own shirt. You were entirely enamored with the cat, that was for sure, not even a sideways, ogling glance at Carmen’s shirtless figure. 

“Shit.” Your head snapped up, wide eyed at Carmen. “I forgot the dishes. I-I’m so sorry, I can-” 

“-It’s alright, baby.” Carmen dropped his pants, biting back a smirk at how your eyes did drop this time. “Tina got her son and his friend to come in. We’re good, baby.” 

“Oh.” You nodded, eyes lingering on his boxer clad ass, before back to the kitten. “Good.” 

Carmen shrugged on his chef’s coat, walking over to you. “It’ll be kinda a late night.” His eyes softened in apology. “I’ll have someone run you a plate when we get outta the weeds, alright?” 

“Thank you.” You muttered, head tilting back for a kiss. Carmen obliged, your lips pulling him in for a longer kiss than he expected, sweet- left his body burning with heat. “Thank you.” You repeated, eyes shining sweetly. 

“C’mon.” Carmen whispered gently, shaking his head at you. “You know I would do anythin’.” He pressed a kiss to your head, looking down at the small kitten before he left. 

“I think he likes it?” You whispered, on your stomach next to Carmen. 

It was nearly two in the morning, the two of you just returning back to the brownstone you called home. Lying on the freshly laid tile of the kitchen, you watched the small cat explore the space. 

“Yeah, think he’s gettin’ used to it.” Carmen muttered, shaking the small stick so the feather danced over the kitten, grinning when he’d scrunch and bat at it clumsily. 

You pressed your head into your hand, watching the kitten prowl, ears finally perked up instead of flat back in fear. “We have to name him.” You blinked, looking up at Carmen. 

“Yeah,” Carmen grinned. “Yeah, that-that would be a good idea, right?” He beamed playfully. 

You smiled, gently petting the kitten’s back, smiling at how he arched into your touch. “I think it should be something kinda with the restaurant.” You suggested. “Since that’s where we found him.” 

“Yeah? Like Bear?” Carmen muttered. 

Your nose crinkled gently. “He doesn’t really look like a Bear.” 

“No,” Carmen agreed, shaking his head. “More like a Garfield.” 

You snorted lightly, rolling your eyes. “That’s such a gimme name.” You shook your head. “Maybe not the restaurant, exactly, but… similar?” 

“Yeah? Like Trash Can?” Carmen muttered, lips curling playfully. 

You gasped lightly, smacking his leg playfully. “No.” You huffed. “Something maybe with food?” 

“Carrot?” 

“No.” You pouted lightly, head tilting towards the small cat, occupied with Carmen’s sweatpant strings. “What about, like, Anchovy?” 

“Anchovy?” Carmen snorted in amusement softly. 

“Yeah, like the fish.” You shrugged softly. “And cats eat fish- well, in the cartoons they do, y’know?” 

“Yeah, I know, baby.” Carmen grinned softly down at you. “You think he looks like an Anchovy?” 

The small kitten turned, perking towards Carmen, padding happily over to him. Your face lit, glowing with beaming pride and adoration as Carmen scooped up the small kitten, let him rub his face into his chest sleepily- sweetly. You thought you might melt into a puddle on the floor at the sight. 

“Alright.” Carmen laughed lightly. “Think you’re right. Think he’s an Anchovy.” 

“Anchovy Berzatto.” You hummed, crawling between Carmen’s spread legs, petting the tiny cat. You smiled so brightly at Carmen, his own cheeks burned, flaming under your radiant affection. 

Your lips caught him again, pulling him in for a sweet, longing kiss over the small kitten’s head. Your hands in Carmen’s hair, pulling him closer and closer, kissing him like a lifeline- it made his head swim, chest swell with adoration. 

Anchovy chirped, teetering on a meow and yawn, little paw stretching in Carmen’s hold. Your forehead pressed to Carmen's, you ducked down to coo at the small kitten, moving to sit in between Carmen’s legs, your back to his chest. 

Home with your little family, complete with the little kitten, Anchovy Berzatto.

[fairylights-throughthemist]

So High School

Best Friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: first time writing, fluff, making out, reader sits on Eddie’s lap.

A/N: Eeek!!! My first time writing! I know it’s nowhere near perfect and I wanted it to be longer but this will have to do for now.

Inspired by “So High School” by Taylor Swift.

You and Eddie had been friends since your freshman year. Since then it has become a tradition to have a movie night on friday after school and today was no exception. Sprinting out of school when the final bell rings, jumping into Eddie’s van and blasting his newest favorite song.

Despite being best friends with the school drug dealer you’d never tried drugs of any kind. Eddie wanted to keep it that way but he also really wanted to get high together with you.

Now here you are, laying with your head in Eddie’s lap, watching him smoke. Seeing the way his soft, plump lips wrap around the blunt makes your question slip out easily.

“Can I try?”

He looks down at you with a questioning look.

“Really?”

Eagerly nodding your head he passes you the blunt and you look up at him with pleading eyes.

“You’ve watched me smoke for years and you still don’t know what to do huh?”

“Just tell me what to do Eddie!”

About half an hour later and switching positions every few minutes you finally found a comfortable one. You’ve got your feet in Eddie’s lap while he stares at you.

“Eddie.”

No response.

“Eddieeeeee.”

Still no response.

“Edssssssss” you whined while kicking your feet in his lap.

“Whaaaattttt?”

“Do you wanna play kiss, marry, kill?”

“I don’t think I have a choice, princess.”

“You go first!”

“Hmmm… Steve, Jason aaaannddd… Billy”

“Kill Jason, obviously. Kiss Billy and I guess I’ll marry Steve!”

“Interesting… Your turn, sweetheart.”

“Chrissy, Tammy anddd Mrs. Wheeler!”

“Jesus Christ how much weed did I give you.” He said under his breath, which you giggled at.

“Answer the question, Munson.”

“Fuck uhm, I guess I’ll kill Tammy, I would not survive hearing her sing for more than I’m forced to. Chrissy… Hmm marry Chrissy and kiss Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Marry Chrissy?”

“You jealous, sweetheart?” He said with his signature Munson smirk.

“What! No! What do you mean?”

A few rounds later you really felt the weed affect your thoughts. You couldn’t stop thinking about Eddie. I mean how could you when he’s just sitting there looking perfect. His soft lips, his unruly hair, his pretty brown eyes and the way he smells. My God the way he smells. Like cigarettes, his old spice deodorant and some of Wayne’s cologne. Most of all he smells like Eddie, no other way of describing it.

The weed makes your thoughts swirl together, making the following easier to say.

“Tina, Sarah and… me.”

“You?”

You look at him with pleading eyes. He glances at your lips and asks “Are you serious?” instead of answering his question you press your lips against his.

His lips feel even softer than they look. When you finally broke the kiss you felt too shy to even look at him. You didn’t have time to let your thoughts flow freely as you felt him grab your chin and ask “Is this okay?”. The second you nodded his lips were on yours again. This time you felt him gently asking for permission to let his tongue into your mouth. His action made you gasp and the two of you naturally started making out. At some point Eddie helped you switch positions so you were straddling his lap.

Even while making out with your crush and grinding on him you couldn’t stop your bad thoughts from taking over. “What if i’m a bad kisser?”, “Does he even like me like that?”, “When did he learn how to kiss like this?”, “Oh God, was his first kiss with Chrissy?”.

Your thought process was quickly interrupted by a groan coming from the man whose lap you were on. You thought that might’ve been the hottest sound ever.

He grabbed your hips and pushed you down on his now very noticeable, boner. His action made you whimper.

“Fuuucckkk.”

Later

Laying on the couch, on top of Eddie, you think back on the events of today and remember something to tease him about.

“You never answered my question.”

“What?”

“Are you gonna marry, kiss or kill me?”

He answers by kissing your lips once again, when you separate he chuckles and says “Mrs. Munson”, which you blush at and hide your face in his neck.

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading 🥹

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

a best friends to lovers trope with eddie where he goes to reader about every date, hookup etc for her advice which she sadly provides. that is until she sets a boundary with the excuse that she’s tired of constantly helping him like this (but also because she’s in love with him and it hurts)

happy ending please (or not) do what you want and i hope this helps 🩷🩷

May I request a fluffy Eddie piece where reader had a long day and she quite literally collapses in Eddie's lap cause she's so tired, and her head is in his lap and he's stroking her hair cause he's so in love with her??

Combined these two requests because I thought it would be cute. You'll see ❤️🥰

Request by anon.

❤️

"Do you think Sammy will like this shirt?" Eddie asks worriedly. He's holding up another band shirt and you nod, feeling the familiar ache inside of you.

It happens every time Eddie has a date. To Eddie you were his official advice giver, he asked you for help with every date he had and it ranged anywhere from what to wear, to what flowers he was to get, to kissing etiquette on a first date.

Dutifully you answered every query and worry but over the last few months, it has been tiring. It's been difficult to separate your feelings for Eddie and act like him going on dates isn't killing you inside.

The pressure was too much and you can't hear any more about Sammy or Tina or Anna or whoever he's dated in the past couple of months. You don't want to be selfish as he's your best friend but if you don't say something then you'll just get even more upset and withdrawn inside.

"Eddie, stop. Stop please I can't do this anymore. We need to have some boundaries" Eddie stills and gazes at you stunned. He literally looks like a deer in headlights and you feel so bad but this has to be done.

"What's wrong princess?" he sounds so concerned and your heart aches even more that you have to do this.

"I'm so in love with you and I can't do this anymore, I can't. It's killing me inside because I so desperately want to be with you but you don't feel the same and I have to hear about all of your dates when I know you would never feel that way about me, ever"

It all comes out in a big rush and by the time you've taken a breath, Eddie looks stunned.

"Uh, I... Shit" he gasps out and you feel absolutely humiliated. Fuck. What if you've ruined everything with Eddie.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I have to go" you rush out before he can say anything else.

❤️

You're going to stay in your room forever and not see anyone. It's the only way that you could get over confessing your biggest secret.

Now Eddie would be on his date and what if he had a problem and felt like he couldn't turn to you because you made everything so awkward. So you were staying right here and hopefully after some time everything would be okay.

You would face Eddie tomorrow. Unfortunately for you Eddie has other plans. There's a knock on your window and Eddie is sitting outside on the slate of your roof.

Panicking that he might fall you rush to get the door open and he tumbles inside. He gets to his feet and smiles impishly, all dimples. God you loved him.

"Hi Eddie, uh how was the date?" Oh real smooth you idiot. Ask him that after you blew up at him. Eddie blushes and ducks his head shyly.

"There was no date, sweetheart, I've been thinking about what you said and I can't believe that the girl of my dreams is in love with me"

"Sweetheart, I never thought you'd ever be interested in me. So I dated and shit, hoped I'd forget you but that's impossible" he caresses your cheek and rests his forehead against yours.

When his lips meet yours for your first kiss, you feel like you're in heaven, you can't believe that this is happening.

"Would have saved a lot of heartache if you just told me that Eddie" you point out and his cheeks darken.

"I know princess but if you give me a chance then I will make it up to you, I promise. What do you say?"

Pleased you nod, "Okay" he's beaming at this point and presses his lips you yours again.

"Get ready for Eddie Munson's guide to wooing, will sweep you off your feet baby" he winks and you roll your eyes giggling at his antics. Idiot.

But now he was your loveable idiot.

❤️

Six months later

Geez you were so tired. It had been a busy day at Family Video and you were so tired, like you could barely keep your eyes open because you were so sleepy.

Some of the customers had been trying on your patience today and you had a headache on top of being so tired.

Steve had dropped you off at Eddie's and all you wanted to do was cuddle up with your adorable boyfriend. Eddie cuddles healed all (at least in your opinion)

When you head inside and straight to Eddie's room he's waiting up for you and pats his knee so you collapse on it and feel the tension leave your body for the first time today.

"Ugh, today was shit" you moan as Eddie softly strokes your hair, his big brown eyes gaze down at you lovingly. The love in his eyes always took your breath away, you couldn't believe that Eddie loved you this much.

It mirrored how much you loved and adored him.

"Oh, my princess, you want me to run you a bath? We could watch The Princess Bride and eat the cookies that Max baked for us?" that sounds so nice but for now you just want Eddie to hold you.

"In a bit babe, can we just stay like this for a little bit longer" he agrees with this and continues stroking your hair softly.

"As you wish"

❤️

[anonymous-dentist]

Or: the morning after

-

Cellbit finds himself getting rattled awake by the sound of an unfamiliar cell phone ringing. His pillow is lumpy, he doesn't have a blanket- or does he? His legs are bare, but his shoulders feel warm enough.

Grimacing, Cellbit squints his eyes shut and desperately shoves his face into his pillow in the hopes of drowning out the noise. Why does his pillow smell like alcohol?

What happened last night? The last thing he remembers is slipping away from Bagi and Tina and finding himself a seat at their hotel's bar, and then? Absolutely nothing.

But the phone keeps ringing.

Cellbit is mildly alarmed to feel his pillow vibrate beneath him as it groans- oh, God, it's alive. He's even more alarmed when his pillow moves and pulls him with it as it rolls onto its side and buries its face in the crook of Cellbit's neck and, fuck, this isn't a pillow is it?

Cellbit forces his eyes open and nearly has a heart attack as he discovers that he is not, in fact, in his hotel room. This isn't his bed. That isn't his window- his room isn't nice enough to have a fucking balcony attached to it.

...Those aren't his pants strewn carelessly across the floor just inches from the bed. That isn't his shirt, either.

Oh, God.

Cellbit's pillow, now Cellbit's blanket, which is probably an actual, real, living, genuine, breathing human person, nuzzles their nose into Cellbit's skin with a pleased, sleepy hum.

Cellbit absently looks down at the hands wrapped around his middle, and his stomach sharpens as he sees a shiny gold ring.

Fuck, they're married?

It's then that Cellbit notices the shiny gold ring on his own finger, his hand splayed next to his face carelessly. He stares at it in both shock and horror and an equal measure of mortification.

Fuck, they're married?

The phone is still ringing. Cellbit can see it on the floor next to his... spouse? Next to his... next to the person's pants. Its screen is lit up, showing off a wallpaper of a man and a woman and a child. Oh, God, what has Cellbit done?

He stares at the phone. He desperately tries to remember where he left his own. His pants are off, but his shirt is on. It's the same shirt he went out in, and it's really uncomfortable to be sleeping in, and the coat he wore with it is gone. Or, at least, it's out of sight, and that's where he was keeping his phone and his wallet and his hotel room key and- oh, fuck, Bagi. She's going to kill him!

The person clinging to Cellbit like a koala seems to settle down (how are they sleeping through the noise??), their breaths evening out and their grip relaxing.

Okay, Cellbit thinks, Escaping from a person can't be worse than escaping from prison. (Granted, he had "escaped" from "prison" at the bright age of eleven, and him "escaping" was him climbing out the window and watching the sunset from the roof of the juvenile hall he was trapped in, but the point stands.)

Carefully, he pries the person's arms off of him. He rolls out of bed and onto the floor and immediately gets onto his knees and ignores the rattling in his skull and the exhausted protesting of his bones and shoves an actual pillow into the person's arms.

He hesitates, just briefly, as he takes in his spouse's face for the first time that he can remember.

He's beautiful. Creases in his face from sleep, bags under his eyes, hair plastered to the side of his head, tiny bit of drool escaping from the corner of his mouth as he snuffles and buries his face into his new teddy bear.

Well. Drunk Cellbit has good taste.

Whatever, cell phone.

Cellbit doesn't think he could stand without vomiting, so he crawls over to where he thinks he vaguely remembers tossing his coat and his pants last night... or, rather, that morning. Something tells him it was entirely too late when he and his... person finally went to bed.

Blackout drunkenness be damned, Cellbit is still a detective, so his clothes are right where he thought they'd be: slung over the hotel room's desk chair.

First, he grabs his pants. He looks at them, considers the fragile state of his stomach, and decides that it probably isn't too smart to move too much. He doesn't know how much it'll take for him to throw up everything he's had over the trip so far, but he doesn't think it'll be that much.

So he abandons his pants for the moment and grabs his coat, instead. A brief search of the pockets finds all his things, plus a handful of stolen poker chips and a crushed pink flower.

Cellbit looks at the flower. What is it, amaranth? Is that it?

Whatever, cell phone.

He turns his phone on and is immediately met with a brand new wallpaper: a clearly drunk him, and an even drunker... husband(?) with his arms hung around Cellbit's shoulders. They're both smiling widely, their cheeks are both flushed, Cellbit is giving this guy a piggyback ride, and the Vegas lights are so bright behind them that it's giving Cellbit a headache just looking at them.

But that isn't what makes Cellbit sick. What makes him sick is the absolute mountain of texts from his extremely pissed-off sister. It starts with a simple, "Where are you?", and it ends with, "FUCK YOU DON'T COME BACK ME AND TINA WILL HAVE A GREEEEAT NIGHT TOGETHER BY OURSELVES WITH PAC!!"

Cellbit, deciding not to subject himself to any more torture, shuts his phone off and collapses backwards onto the floor. Even the carpet smells like alcohol; what did he and this guy do last night? ...Besides get married.

Cellbit raises his hand above his face and squints at his ring. Fake gold, he can tell. Cheap ring, glass jewels. Probably sold at the place he and the man got married at. Probably someplace cheesy with an Elvis impersonator acting as the officiant and a couple of equally-drunk tourists acting as the witnesses.

Groaning from the bed. Seems Cellbit's new husband is awake, then.

Cellbit keeps staring at his ring, anyway. It's... weird. He'd always dreamed of a big wedding, and now that he is married, he doesn't remember it. But it's fair, he supposes. He'd stopped believing he would get married years ago. Makes sense he wouldn't remember it happening.

The man in the bed swears and rolls around noisily.

"Fucking kill meeeee," he moans. "Son of a bitch!"

His voice is rough. Cellbit's probably sounds rougher. His entire body hurts.

The man keeps swearing. Cellbit listens, and he stares at his ring, and he quietly panics as the reality of his marriage sets in.

Are Vegas weddings even legal? Fuck, he's a detective, he should know this! But he's a detective in Brazil, he doesn't know American laws.

Abruptly, the man's complaining stops.

"Oh," Cellbit hears. "Hello."

Cellbit tears his eyes away from his ring and looks at the man. Their eyes meet, and, suddenly, Cellbit realizes why they got married.

If this man was beautiful asleep, he's absolutely stunning awake. His eyes are just so... and his jawline? What the hell?

Bagi always likes to tease Cellbit about his extreme romanticism. She says it's almost obsessive, but what does she know? What he and Pac had going on in high school was normal.

Cellbit just knows handsome when he sees it, and he supposes that Drunk Cellbit saw it and decided he had to put a ring on it.

It's a shame they're married. He doesn't think he'll be able to talk to this guy ever again after they sign the divorce papers.

Because they have to get divorced, right? Or annulled? Or... reversed? Whatever it is in Vegas, they'll have to do it. They don't know each other. Cellbit lives in Brazil. This guy seems like he has a family. It wouldn't work, no matter how pretty he is.

Slowly, Cellbit sits up. He winces, gags, props himself up against the desk's leg. He lets his stomach settle down. Tries not to smile back as the man smiles at him.

"Vegas," the man whispers. He sounds slightly awed. Cellbit feels the same way, but probably not for the same reasons. He's in shock over this man's beauty; this man is probably shocked that the Vegas stereotypes are true.

"Vegas," Cellbit agrees. He holds up his hand, and his ring. "Good morning. Can we get a divorce?"

The man gasps and looks down at his own hand. His eyes widen comically as he sees his ring.

"What the fuck?" he shouts.

Both he and Cellbit flinch at the volume. Ouch.

"A divorce," Cellbit repeats once the pounding in his head has subsided. "Because we got married."

The man's phone is still ringing. Cellbit kinda wants to throw it off the balcony, but he's probably already ruined this guy's life enough. (His family...)

The man, somehow, ignores it.

He crawls down the length of the bed and flops onto his stomach, head tilted just slightly as he takes Cellbit in. He props himself up on his elbows, and Cellbit can't help but admire his biceps because he's. He's shirtless. And he isn't wearing pants. He has boxers on, thank God- Cellbit doesn't know what he'd do if it turned out they'd done things last night after the wedding.

"You want a divorce?" the man asks. He shrugs. "I mean, sure, but... why?"

Cellbit stares at him. "We were drunk. I don't know you."

"Yeah but you did last night, and we liked each other enough to get married after a couple hours. That's gotta count for something, right?"

"I mean. Maybe? But- you don't even know my name!"

"Sure, and you don't know mine." His smile is blinding. "I'm Roier."

Roier... it settles around Cellbit's brain like a warm sweater.

"Cellbit," Cellbit responds. He swallows and forces his eyes away from Roier's arms. "Look, I'm sure you're a nice guy-"

"I am."

"-but we can't be married. My sister is supposed to be getting married next week and she'll kill me if she finds out I got married before she did. And we don't know each other and- dude, can you pick up your goddamn phone?"

Cellbit groans and throws his head back, eyes squinting shut from the pain in his head.

"Shit," the man swears, "hold on..."

Cellbit tunes him out as he finally answers his phone. He's a loud talker, but he's still quieter than his phone was.

He... has a nice voice. Cellbit can almost imagine hearing it daily, but that's literally just. Stupid. This is all stupid, they should be divorced already. And then Cellbit can go back to being single and miserable like he's used to.

With his eyes still shut, Cellbit flounders around for his pants. Once he has them, he starts pulling them on, desperately trying not to vomit as he does so. Fuck, his stomach...!

Bagi would be laughing if she heard about this. She'd be pissed, but she'd be laughing about it. She's been the one trying to get him to sign up for dating apps since he realized he's asexual and he stopped dating altogether. She's been trying to set him up with friends for years. She'd be furious if she found out that Cellbit went and married the first guy to flirt back with him. While drunk. In Las Vegas.

Cellbit manages to get his pants buttoned up just as Roier finishes his phone call. Out of breath and exhausted, Cellbit cracks an eye open and offers a weak smile at a very concerned-looking Roier.

"You don't look too good," Roier comments. "You can stay here until you're up to moving, you know."

Cellbit frowns. "Wouldn't that be awkward?"

"Why would it be awkward? We're married. Married people share rooms all the time."

"We aren't-" Cellbit tries to stand, immediately decides against it as the room swims around him, sits heavily back down. "Fuck. We aren't actually married, you know. We're Vegas-married."

"I know, but I'm not a dick. You look like shit, I'm not just gonna let you pass out in the hallway."

Oh, and he's nice, too. He's handsome and he's nice. Of course he's a package deal, what the fuck?

Only slightly annoyed, Cellbit lets himself flop to the side and lay down on the floor again. It isn't comfortable, but it feels better than sitting up does.

He looks up at Roier. "You're being awfully nice to a stranger."

Roier waves him off. "Nah, it's fine. If I trusted you last night, I can trust you now. I'm a very good judge of character."

"Really?"

"No, I'm actually kidnapping you."

Cellbit huffs out a laugh, a genuine smile growing on his face as Roier looks genuinely proud of himself.

"You're an asshole," Cellbit says. "I can't wait until we're divorced."

"Me, too," Roier agrees. "No offense- like, you're a really nice guy-" (Cellbit blushes.) "-but I kinda wish I got to, like, take you on a date or something before we got married."

Cellbit chokes on his own spit. "What?"

Roier's eyes widen and he sits up, alarmed. "What? Is that-"

"No!" Cellbit waves his hands frantically. "No, it's fine! I'm just... are you sure? You could still be drunk."

"I don't feel drunk."

"Maybe I'm still drunk, then."

"Maybe." Roier nods, faux serious. "We are in Vegas."

"Can you even date in Vegas? What can we even do?"

"Eh, I'm sure there's something we can do. Maybe we can get divorced this afternoon and get dinner?"

Cellbit almost turns him down. This is a bad idea. He's in Vegas. He isn't... they don't know each other. Roier doesn't know that Cellbit doesn't really do anything past kissing. That could be a problem, right? Maybe, but...

But Cellbit trusts himself to know that, even when drunk out of his mind, he would explain everything before engaging in any kind of intimacy with another man. He and Roier hadn't taken their underwear off, after all, that has to count for something. Roier seems like a nice guy. Cellbit thinks he can trust him to not be a total scumbag later on if it comes down to it.

So Cellbit swallows his hesitance and smiles and replies, "That sounds nice, actually."

(And if their divorce date could later turn into a real marriage? Well, Cellbit wouldn't complain.)

[ash5monster01]

Piano Man

Chapter Two - If I Only Had the Words (to Tell You) 🎶

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, mentions of heartbreak, abandonment issues, emotional vulnerability, heart ache, established relationship

Summary: You and Steve have been dating for nearly 6 months, all of which he’s enjoyed. Yet it has been exactly a year since Nancy told him he was bullshit. So even though he desperately wants to tell you he loves you he’s afraid you might say he’s bullshit too.

word count: 2k

One ←→ Three

Masterlist

Fall 1985

But I only have these arms to hold you

It’s a dark Fall night. The house smelling of popcorn you had popped earlier to watch during a movie. Halloween decorations had been plastered all over Steve’s home, a home that hadn’t been decorated for any holiday in a very long time. You had changed that though, changed him. You made not only this home full, but his heart. Which is why Steve lies beside you in his bed absolutely hating himself for not being able to tell you how he feels. How much he loves you, how much you had saved him these last six months.

You had been there for it all. Cheering in the stands when he graduated, taking your lunch break to visit him everyday at Scoops Ahoy, not getting jelous of his newfound friendship with Robin, taking care of him when the monsters returned and the mall burned down, and even helping him and Robin get hired at the video store where you had worked this entire time. Everytime he thought you'd leave, somehow you were still there, and he appreciated you for every bit of it. So why the hell couldn't he say it?

He knew why. He knew because everytime he looked at the plastic Halloween decorations filling his home he was brought right back to Tina's Halloween party. Right back to that very bathroom where the only girl he ever loved looked into his eyes and told him he was bullshit. It had been a year but he still remembered how devastated he was, how his heart felt as she ripped it straight from his chest. The look in her eyes was seared into his memory, devoid of any emotion but distate blazing in them. He couldn't relive that, wouldn't relive that. Especially with you.

He may have loved Nancy but with you it was different. With you, he knew you were going to be the one. The one person handcrafted specifically for him. A soul designed to match his own in a large and lonely world. Somehow he had found you and now he wouldn't do anything to risk it, he would guarantee it. It had hurt when Nancy said she didn't love him but if you did. Well that would kill him.

"What kind of candy do the kids like?" you ask in the dark bedroom, voice overlapping that of Billy Joel's from the cassette player. You're My Home played softly throughout the room and you wished Steve knew that was how you felt about him. That until now you were pretty sure you had nowhere to belong and now you belonged to him.

"Why do you ask?” Steve hums, hands reaching to run through your hair. He lived for nights like this, where you just laid here with legs tangled together and talked about things practically meaningless.

"Well I want to make them happy, I know how much they love Halloween. Dustin hasn't shut up about it all week and I want something to cheer Mike up. I know how badly they wanted to dress up as The Goonies but with Will and El gone they can't" you tell Steve, hand lacing with his own under the covers. Steve smiles softly at you and how much you care for the very kids he had taken under his own wing.

"I don't know what kind of candy they like, I'm sure whatever is fine. As for Mike, tell him we can be Andy and Brand. Maybe I can convince Robin to be Data or something" Steve tells you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The image of Robin in the Data costume meant for Will makes you giggle and Steve is pulling you closer, chest brushing against your own.

"You'd give up our Grease costume for that?" you ask, knowing how excited he was to be Danny Zuko and wear his leather jacket.

"Yeah but don't tell them that. They'll get big heads" Steve grumbles, practically hearing Dustin tease him about how much he loves all of them. You giggle against him and Steve warms over, feeling those very words sitting heavy on his chest. If only he had the words to tell you. He knew you were waiting, wondering why he hadn't said them. If you only had time to understand why he struggled with it so much. Everyone he ever loved left, if he said these words outloud he couldn't risk you leaving him too.

"You're the best Stevie" you tell him, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his nose. Steve hums in delight, not allowing you to back away as he pulls you to his lips and kisses you quickly. He knows you love him, you only said things like that to replace those very words. If he would just say it your response would have been 'I love you Stevie'. Instead he gets broad statements that he has slowly come to despise.

"Yeah, yeah, best babysitter ever" he mumbles and you giggle because even though he pretends to hate it you know how much he loves it. How much he loves those kids. If he didn't he wouldn't spend time with them. One of those very kids was his ex girlfriend’s brother and he never let any of those things stop him. He was always there for them.

"Only the best can handle six kids at a time" you tell him and Steve searches your eyes, loving how when you look at them they’re filled with adoration instead of hate. He knows not saying anything won't change your feelings and you will carry on loving him without it. He just couldn't bring himself to say it, the urge never there even though he was practically dying inside to tell you. He wished you knew how hard it is to say.

Sometimes when he finds himself even close he feels silly. I love you seemed too simple to portray the love he had for you. It was so basic, a word your heard on the radio over and over again. Every song as simple as the last. How unoriginal were his words when the radio repeats them every single day? Even with his love for Billy Joel he figures he'll never find a song to sing you. One that perfectly depicted exactly how he felt about you. He doesn't want to sing those tired words again, words he wasted on people who never loved him back.

“You ever think about having kids?” Steve asks, leaning back into the pillow and staring at his ceiling. You admire the soft tufts of his hair on his chest, the way his bicep flexes as he reaches to tuck his hand under his head. He’s so handsome and it should scare you that your boyfriend of only six months has suddenly asked you about having kids and yet you don’t seem to mind.

“All the time” you tell him earnestly, snuggling into his side and grazing your fingers along his sternum, grinning when he shivers from your touch.

“I want to have a whole bunch, make me feel better about being an only child” Steve says, his hand pressed to your back slowly sliding up and into your hair.

“What do you mean, make you feel better?” you ask, lifting your head to glance at the boys face as he continues to be deep in thought.

“I was a lonely kid, my parents never really cared to pay any attention and without any siblings or cousins I was left to my own devices. I think it’s half the reason I was such an asshole in high school” he says, almost wincing at the thought of how many people he had treated like shit over the years just to guarantee he wouldn’t be all alone.

“You were protecting yourself” you say, understanding exactly what he means and Steve nods, eyes glancing down at your form.

“I want my kids to have built in friends and even better, present parents” he tells you and suddenly you find yourself wanting nothing more than to have kids with the boy beside you.

“You’ll be the best Dad Steve, I just know it” you tell him and there are those words again, sitting on his tongue and begging to escape but he just can’t seem to let them go. He hates himself for it, looking away before you see the regret in his eyes.

“I hope so, I just wish my Grandpa was still around to see it” he says, thinking of the only person in his life who ever really liked him for him when he was growing up. The man who had heaven sent you straight to him when he needed you the most.

“He is, don’t you worry about that Stevie” you tell him, eyes fluttering close as you listen to cassette playing in the room. The boombox clicked, indicating the start of a new song. Worse Comes to Worst slowly filling the room.

“Oh worse comes to worst. I’ll get along” you start singing the melody into the dark night air, the fall breeze fluttering in from the window and brushing against the curtains.

“I don’t know how, but sometimes - I can be strong” Steve starts singing along with you and suddenly your both giggling into the night, sharing a love for one another and a love for Billy Joel. The very man that had brought you two together.

“Do you ever get sick of listening to him?” Steve asks and you know he’s asking you about Billy Joel. You shake your head softly against his chest, gazing into those hazel eyes.

“No, he reminds me of you. Makes me feel close to you no matter where I am. Yet I suppose that’s exactly how he makes you feel about your Grandpa” you say, voice humming along the boys ribs.

“Yeah but now he reminds me of you too” Steve admits and you smile before leaning up and capturing his lips in your own. When you had approached the sad boy in the record store you never would have imagined it would bring you here.

"I'm gonna try and sleep" you tell the boy, snuggling closer and allowing your heavy eyelids to close. Steve smiles softly and presses another kiss to your forehead. He knows life goes on and tonight will soon be gone. Another missed opportunity to tell you exactly how he feels. His wished he had the words to tell you but instead he only has his arms to hold you, pulling you closer into him. It's really all you can ask of any man, to be held with such love even if he won't say it.

"Goodnight Rosy" he mutters, 'I love you' he says in his head. He knows disappointment swells in your chest, having been by his side for six months and waiting to know exactly how he felt about you. The only noise in the dark room now is the voice of Billy Joel and your soft breathing. He pulls you close, relishing in the feeling of having you in his arms. When he’s sure you’re asleep he tells you.

"I love you Rosy, I really do. Just please don't give up on me, I promise I want to say it. You deserve to know just how much I adore you but every person I've ever loved has left me. I know you won't but I need time for my head to catch up with my heart. Until then, if I only had the words to tell you..."

Taglist: @slvtforstve @keerygal @goosy-goose @livsters @blckburd @loveshotzz @ohwauwdoritos @superblysubpar @southereads @amataadriana @violet2022 @mxrcjqckspnchqsc @madaboutjoe @thunderstomp-and-tequila @justdamnpeachy @micheledawn1975 @fangfatale @kingstevesgf @eddiesguitarskills @palmtreesx3 @momospeaches47 @pbs-theundeadmaggot @notlilyyyy @xuimhao @lianna75 @lvjmel @sadbitchfangirl @halflifejess @starkleila

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

[flowersandbigteeth]

Big orc with a small mate who is just so small and fragile they just cry sometimes scared they'll hurt them

This is a little on the darker side, but I hope it is a bit of schadenfreude.

General Plot: You meet and befriend an orc who has a penchant for finding tall bridges.

Orc (Orion) x female reader

also, just a note, when I say "small" in this I'm saying as compared to an orc, not any particular body size or shape

Word Count: just under 3k

W: as brief as i could while still getting the message across descriptions of sa and suicide, otherwise sfw soft yandere behavior

“Damn,” Orion’s friend and coworker Joss whistled, peering across the shitty dive bar they were posted in, “don’t think I’ve seen a prettier sight in my life.” 

Orion’s eyes flickered from his drink to where Joss was looking, a table of women, your heads huddled together as you worked on your answers for the trivia game you were playing. 

“I got it!” you shouted at the guy running the game, “the answer is Oregon!” 

Orion gulped on his drink and it went down like a lump of lead in his stomach. You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen in his life, your eyes glowing and your cheeks warm from smiling. The women around you were all beautiful in different ways, but his eyes focused on you and he couldn’t look away. You were so small. It almost made his eyes prickle as he considered how you could possibly survive in this world being so delicate. 

As a mercenary Orion knew the darkest dregs of the world. He’d seen pretty, innocent things like you broken and bloody in the snow when his team had arrived too late. It broke his heart every time and looking at you…something in him was moved. 

“Let’s buy the ladies some drinks,” Joss grinned, already turning to the bartender to organize a pitcher of margaritas for your table. 

You glanced up at the waiter as he carried an armful of drinks over to you and your friends. You’d never done trivia before and you didn’t go to bars, but they’d convinced you to get out of the house for once and join them. So far it had been fun, though as the waiter spread the drinks out in front of you and your friends you frowned.

“No thanks,” you said politely, pushing the glass back across the table when he got to you, “don’t drink.” 

The waiter smiled, scooping up the cup before gesturing to the two orcs sitting at the bar. 

“Compliments of the gentlemen,” he explained and the rest of your friends raised their drinks and smiled at the handsome orcs. 

They were obviously military of some kind. You could tell not because they were dressed in fatigues, but because the hair that was traditionally worn longs for orcs was instead cropped close to their heads. 

The larger one seemed to be looking at you and you held up your soda and tipped it at him with a friendly smile, before turning your attention back to the game. For some reason you didn’t want him to think you didn’t appreciate his attempt at a gift, but this was why you didn’t go to bars. Everyone was trying to ply everyone else into sex with alcohol. It just wasn’t your scene anymore. You didn’t do hookups and you didn’t drink, so…what was the point? Trivia, was your best friend's answer. 

“I’ve got the brunette with the curls,” Joss said to Orion as he smirked at your table. 

Your friends were eating up the orcs' attention, casting them wily smiles and flipping their hair. You didn’t blame them. They were good looking, with large, shining tusks and bodies any human body builder would kill for. The larger one had an arm full of tattoos peeking out from the tight black shirt he was wearing. 

For your part, you huddled down into the hoodie you were wearing and took a sip of your soda. It wasn’t like the orcs were flirting with you anyway. They were probably looking at Emily, who had long blonde hair, or Tina, who had dark flawless skin and tight, shining curls.

You didn’t notice Orion’s gaze focusing solely on you. 

“She doesn’t like margaritas?” he asked the bartender, nervously, when he returned with your empty glass. 

“Doesn’t drink,” he murmured, already moving on to his next customer. 

That comforted him a little. At least you weren’t going to be wandering drunk through the streets on your way home, but the idea of you walking home all by yourself bit at him. Orion was feeling things he’d never felt before and he didn’t even know your name. 

He was a mercenary. He wasn’t a kind, warm orc; never had been. He was good at killing. Very, very good at killing and that’s what his life consisted of, death, blood, and lonely cold nights camping out waiting for orders. 

He had his fun with girls he ran into in the odd cities he found himself in. They had a way of finding military men with money, but he’d never had a girlfriend or any sort of real connection. He’d never expected to live long enough for it to matter…but there you were. You weren’t all made up like the other girls, dressed in a bulky hoodie that swallowed you, with your hair brushed away from your face. Yet, you were the most beautiful one sitting there, chewing your lip and wrinkling your brow as you tried to think up answers. 

“Come on,” Joss said to him, throwing back the rest of his beer, “I think the game is ending.” 

The winners were announced (not your team) and you were trying to figure out how to slide past your drunk friends to escape home when the orcs approached your table. 

“Evening ladies,” the shorter one said, flexing his biceps as he scraped his thick fingertips through his short hair to the delight of your friends. 

“Excuse me,” you murmured, wiggling past your starry eyed friends and almost completely ignoring the orcs. 

You bid them all goodnight, but they are busy batting their eyelashes and circling their fingers around the mouths of their glasses. Best leave them to it, you thought as you made your way to the front door, not noticing the taller orc abandoning his friend to follow you out.

Orion didn’t have a plan. He’d never stalked a woman before, but there he was, using his combat skills to make his huge form disappear in the urban environment.  

He got more and more uneasy as you left the nice part of town and turned on to a dark street. A siren blared, startling him for a second as a cop car flew past and he almost lost track of you before he caught sight of you again fidgeting with the loop of keys in your hand and stuffing one into the door of the first floor apartment you lived in. 

Orion frowned, sneaking as quietly as he could up to your side window. Your home was incredibly insecure, he noted. With his strength he could easily pop the rusted bars over your windows out to get to you and your door was a laughable piece of plywood. 

His eyes watered again imagining your pretty face twisted in fear from some unknown attacker. He had to stop for a moment to take a breath and gather himself. Feelings he’d never felt before were bubbling up in his stomach like a witch’s cauldron, but standing outside of your house like a creeper, he had no idea how to approach you. 

He ended up keeping vigil outside of your house all night and woke from a shallow doze when you started moving around inside. Peeking through your window he could see you smoothing your hair dressed only in your panties and a little t-shirt that rode up on your waist. Compared to him, you were just so incredibly small! It still confounded him that you could survive in this awful neighborhood and not be harassed daily. 

Since it was the weekend and you weren’t hung over like your friends, you went about your morning routine and donned your usual hoodie to hit up your favorite coffee shop. An iced latte was the perfect way to start a Saturday. 

In the light of day, Orion hung back as he followed you down the street, waiting a few moments before he entered the coffee shop after you. 

The shop was busy, but there was a loveseat open and after getting your latte you took a seat on one side to drink it. 

“Mind if I sit here?” Orion asked, after he’d gotten his own coffee. 

You smiled up at his looming figure and scooted a bit to the side so there was plenty of room for him. 

“You look familiar,” you mentioned, making light conversation as you sipped your drink. 

The orc gave you a small smile. 

“Name's Orion,” he said, pleased to have a reason to talk to you, “I think I saw you last night at the bar…you were with your friends…but you don’t drink…” 

You giggled. 

“Oh yeah, they dragged me out to that,” you said with a grin, “they think I’m a hopeless homebody because I don’t like to get drunk. I’m (Y/N).” 

He smiled back at you, taking in your pretty twinkling eyes and soft looking skin. He had to hold back his tears as he looked down at you, so little in the seat next to him and tucked cutely in your big hoodie. He wondered what you would look like dressed in his t-shirt and wondered how he could possibly hold you without hurting you with his big hands.  

“That’s not a bad quality to h-” he started to say, but was interrupted by a slightly nasally voice trying to get your attention. 

You winced as you looked up to find one of the last people you wanted to see and part of the reason you didn’t drink hanging over you. Dane, a man you’d met once at a bar was holding a coffee with his other hand stuck in his pocket. 

“(Y/N)!” he said grinning, “Great to see you! I’m surprised I didn’t hear from you after all the fun we had last time…did I put my number in your phone wrong or something?” 

He reached down to snatch your phone out of your hand, as if he were going to check it. 

You winced and shrank back. 

The reason you didn’t drink was the last time you went to a bar you might have had a bit too much and Dane offered to take you home. Though his idea of “take you home” meant assault you while you were too drunk to fight back and then leave you crying on your couch with a text in the morning that said, “had fun last night, can’t wait to do it again.” 

Of course, you hadn’t told anyone as you probably should have. You were too embarrassed and ashamed, so instead you tried to shake the experience away and swore to yourself you’d never drink again. 

To your surprise, however, before Dane could reach your phone, Orion’s hand intercepted his. He could see by looking at you, you were uncomfortable and though he couldn’t possibly have known what happened, he didn’t like the man. 

“Hi,” he said, scooping up Dane’s hand into a tight handshake, “I’m (Y/N)’s boyfriend Orion, I don’t think we’ve met before.” 

Dane sneered and looked Orion up and down. The look on his face said he didn’t take the orc seriously. 

“Boyfriend?” he laughed, “that must be new…(Y/N) and I had a good time just a couple of weeks ago, didn’t we?” 

He turned his attention to you, but your eyes were filling with tears, stressed and embarrassed that he would even say something like that after what he did. You would not describe it as “a good time.” Orion growled and squeezed Dane’s hand until the bones popped, wiping the smile from his face. 

“What the fuck are you doing?! You’re going to break my hand!” Dane howled, causing the whole restaurant to look at the scene he was causing. 

Fire flooded your cheeks and you tried to make an escape, pushing past Orion, but in another surprising move, he dropped Dane’s hand and put his arm around you. In any other circumstance, you would have been a little frightened, but at that moment a warm hug was just what you needed and you leaned into him without thinking. 

“Let’s get out of here, (Y/N),” he said, giving you a gentle smile, before giving Dane a pointed look, “this place is starting to smell like trash.” 

He hustled you out of the building and led you to a small park where there were some cozy benches tucked amongst the trees. Spaced out from your encounter, you let his strength lead you without a fuss. 

He sat you down and you just sat in silence for a few minutes coming back to your senses. Orion had seen enough victims of assault in his line of work to know what the look on your face meant, so he gave you a little space to collect yourself before speaking. 

“You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to…but I’m a good listener if you do,” he said quietly, brushing a loose hair out of your face. 

You looked so small and helpless in front of him and he focused all of his will into not scooping you up and carrying you off, keeping you locked up so tight no one could ever get to you again. He could snap you like a twig with just a flick of his wrist, no wonder some horrible man thought he could take advantage of you. 

Without meaning to you let out a sob and the whole story came spilling out. It took all of Orion’s mental fortitude not to respond with anger. That wasn’t what you needed right then. Instead, he pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin and rubbed soothing circles on your back while you cried. 

Despite his fear of smooshing you, he managed to squeeze you just gently enough to reassure you without hurting you.

“This wasn’t your fault,” he said, realizing why you didn’t drink, “men can be disgusting. No one should take advantage of someone while they are intoxicated…it’s just sick.” 

After you’d had a good cry, you exchanged numbers and Orion walked you home promising you everything would be okay. Even though you weren’t sure you quite believed him, something about him felt safe so you let yourself feel comforted and spent the rest of the day resting in your pajamas trying to keep your mind off of it. 

That only worked for a day, because the next morning as you were flipping channels you saw a familiar face on the television. It was Orion. He was being interviewed by a news reporter. You hurriedly turned the volume up to hear what he was saying. 

“I saw him climbing the railing,” he said evenly into the microphone the reporter had shoved in his face, “but I was just too late…I couldn’t get to him in time to save him.” 

His face was oddly blank considering the warmth he’d shown you the previous day. The camera centered back on the reporter. 

“Depression has taken yet another victim here on the St. Anne’s bridge. It seems the security cameras on the bridge were not functioning when the event occurred, so there is no video record. Officials are promising to put more cameras and safety measures in place to stop tragedies like this from occurring. If you are experiencing thoughts of harming yourself please call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline. Simply dial 988. Dane Andrews will be remembered as a…” 

You muted the television and blinked as images of the man who assaulted you flashed on screen. Dane is dead. You didn’t want to celebrate someone’s death but for some reason it put you at ease. You’d never accidentally run into him again. He’d never have another opportunity to taunt you. You couldn’t erase what had happened but it felt like you’d gained some closure. You were so focused on that, you didn’t even consider that it was a bit odd Orion was the last person to have seen him before he jumped off of the bridge. 

You hurriedly pulled out your phone and texted him. 

I saw you on the news…want to come over? 

It was only a few minutes before he responded. 

Be there in ten. 

You quickly put on some proper pants and brewed a pot of coffee while you waited for him to knock on the door. When it finally came you found yourself smoothing your hair and glancing in the mirror before answering it. For some reason you wanted to look some kind of way when he saw you. 

You opened the door to the Orion you remembered, not the cold emotionless one on TV. He gave you a big smile and to your surprise he had a bouquet of peonies in his hands. 

“For you,” he said, holding them out to you. 

Despite the somber mood of the morning, you smiled back, letting him inside and hurrying to the kitchen to find a vase for the pretty pink flowers. 

“It’s crazy what happened to Dane,” you said as you poured him a cup of coffee, “I guess even people like him have their own inner demons.” 

“Mmm,” Orion said, noncommittally as he sat at your kitchen table and took a sip, “I hope you feel a bit safer…” 

His eyes followed you as you got a cup and poured yourself some coffee. Of course, he had no intention of telling you, Dane did not kill himself. He had thrown Dane off the bridge after making sure he regretted ever laying a finger on you. He knew just what to do to make it look like the damage had been caused by his body banging on the rocks under the bridge, not Orion’s fists. 

You sighed. 

“You know I feel a little bad for saying this, but I really do feel safer,” you admitted, your gaze meeting his gold irises. 

He smiled. 

“Good,” he said, “you deserve to feel safe. Nothing like that is ever going to happen to you again.” 

Sitting down next to him at the table you fiddled with the handle of your mug. 

“You can’t be sure of that,” you murmured into your coffee, “things happen all the time.” 

He pulled your chin up to look at him, cupping your cheek gently. He knew he would have to be gentle with you always and he looked forward to holding you even closer.  

“While I’m around they won’t happen to you,” he stated.

You had no idea why, but for some reason you believed him. Your cheeks flushed just a little and your heart fluttered. 

“D-do you plan on sticking around?” you asked quietly. 

“I don’t ever plan on leaving you,” he said and you swallowed thickly.  

If it were anyone else those words would have been frightening, but Orion had cast some kind of magic spell on you with his kindness and you only felt safe and seen. 

You raised your much smaller hand to place it on his larger one against your cheek and looked up at him. 

“I think I’d like that,” you said with a small smile. 

[negans-lucille-tblr]

The Luckiest | JDM x Reader | Oneshot

Summary: A premier leaves Y/N feeling insecure, but luckily her husband knows how to help. 

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Pairing: Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Reader (Reader is about Jensen’s age)

Tags: Daddy kink, insecure!reader, insecurities, minor angst, oral sex (fem rec), p in v, praise kink, validation, fluff

WC: ± 2.7K

A/Ns: Commissioned by the lovely Tina. Hope you love this <3

JDM Masterlist || Find out how to get your own commission here!

“Wow, Danneel looks incredible,” you sigh, your eyes landing on the dress that looks like it was handmade for Dee’s exact figure. Her hair and makeup are just as flawless as the rest of her, and she poses with her husband effortlessly as you shuffle awkwardly next to your own husband. 

“She looks nice,” your husband agrees, “but you look better.” 

You scoff at him, shaking your head in disagreement. Even though you and Dee are nearly the same age, you feel like your days of looking anywhere close to as glamorous as she is are past you. She’s even managed to have three kids and still look that good, and that just doesn’t seem fair. 

You glance back at your husband to see him rolling his eyes. 

“What?”

“You,” he chuckles softly. “I can practically hear your thoughts.” 

“Oh yeah, and what am I thinking then?” You prompt, raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re thinking that you’re not as pretty as her, and that you’ll never be that pretty, but you’re wrong,” he insists with a nonchalant shrug. He pauses when the organiser you’re standing beside ushers you onto the photo line. “Because I think you’re the most beautiful, perfect girl here,” he adds casually, stepping out to begin posing for the cameras. 

You feel a little flustered for a second, just staring after him as the flashes illuminate him. He looks so perfect tonight in his suit without a tie. He looks over at you, a smirk gracing his lips as he lifts his hand and beckons you over with a flick of two fingers. You immediately obey, sliding up to his side where you feel totally safe, and pay the cameras no mind, finally putting the thought of your comparison to Dee out of your mind for a moment as you ride the high of Jeff’s recent words.

You giggle when he leans down to kiss your cheek and then he presses his mouth to your ear and breathes hot breath against your skin.  

“Fucking gorgeous, baby girl,” he growls softly, making your insides flutter. 

*

“Can we go soon?” you plead with your husband once all the formalities are over with and there’s just alcohol and mingling left. “I’m tired and my feet are killing me,” you complain, shuffling around in your uncomfortable heels. 

Jeff chuckles softly, glancing down at the floor to your shoes, before looking back up and into your eyes. 

“Five more minutes? I promised Jared I’d have a scotch with him,” Jeff explains softly, and you whine quietly under your breath but don’t protest too loudly, afraid of offending someone around you. “Don’t worry, princess, I’ll make it worth the wait,” he smirks devilishly, and then slips away, off to find Jared, you presume, and you wonder just what he means by making it worth the wait. 

Your mind at first thinks of something sexual, because after that smirk, you’re pretty sure he was coming onto you, but you can’t think of anything worse right now. You’ve spent the night surrounded by women far prettier and slimmer and better than you in every single way, and all you want to do is curl up in a ball of self pity and sleep this whole evening off. You’re not sure what’s really gotten into you lately, but you’ve never felt this badly about yourself before. You’ve never loved yourself, but your insecurities have never gotten this bad. But then you suppose you and Jeff have been married a short while now, and the ‘honeymoon’ phase died off a little while ago. He used to barely keep his hands off of you, and while he still says the right things and calls you beautiful and makes you feel loved, it’s been a while since you’ve been made to feel sexy. 

When Jeff finally pries himself away from the boys, he finds you once again, and wraps his arm around your waist, finally putting you out of your misery and telling you you can go home. He leads you out to the limo quietly, and opens the door for you to climb in, getting in alongside you. The driver takes you home, and you sit in silence with your husband in the back for a short while, just looking out of the window until you feel his hand on your thigh. Turning your head you catch his eye, and offer him a weak smile at best, feeling truly exhausted and ready to get out of your stupid dress, feeling like you’re trying too hard. 

Jeff doesn’t say anything, and his eyes leave yours as he glances towards the driver, the partian most of the way up, so he reaches over to the switch and closes it completely. That’s when his hand slips down your thigh, to the hem of your dress, and then under it, moving back up to where it was, only this time, on your bare skin. 

“What’re you doing?” you whisper, even though you know the driver won’t hear you through the privacy screen. 

“I’ve tried to keep my hands off of you as long as I could, but I don’t think I can resist any longer,” he states matter-of-factly. 

You scoff and shake your head, wondering if he’s just saying and doing all this to make you feel better. He’s not acted like this since you were dating. 

“Jeff, c’mon,” you sigh, pushing his hand away. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, blinking. 

“I’m not in the mood, okay?” you insist, feeling tears begin to press at the backs of your eyes as you look out the window again. 

“Is this about Dee?” he asks, his hand once again on your thigh, but this time it’s lower down, over your dress, and he squeezes it lovingly. 

“No… yes… maybe… I don’t know, Jeff, I’m just tired, and I feel shitty,” you finally conclude. 

Jeff sighs heavily, his thumb brushing back and forth along your leg. “Alright,” he finally relents, and much to your disappointment he lets go. 

For a moment, you feel annoyed that he hadn’t tried harder to cheer you up, wondering if he too thinks that Dee is more attractive than you, and when you glance over at him to wonder what he’s thinking, his eyes are fixed on his own window, and stay that way for the rest of the ride home. 

It’s even quieter between you as you get through your front door, and you’re even more determined to get into comfortable clothes and go straight to bed, but before you can make your way to the stairs, you feel Jeff’s hand wrap around your wrist and tug you backwards, bringing you towards him. 

“Jeff, please,” you whine, but when you finally look up at him and see the darkness in his eyes, you pause your protests. 

“Jeff?” he questions, “have you forgotten your manners, young lady?” 

“No, Daddy,” you reply, almost so quickly it’s embarrassing.  

“That’s better,” he nods, and a tiny smirk dances along his lips. “Now, do you really want to go to bed, or do you want Daddy to remind you just how perfect he thinks you are?” 

Jeff hadn’t pulled out the ‘daddy’ card in a long time, and instantly you remember back to the days spent between sheets when you first started dating, and how he would be so perfect at taking control, but there was always something so soft and caring with everything he did. You were his, you belonged to him, he could make you do anything he wanted, but in return he made you feel safe and protected, and like the most special thing in his world. And that’s when it hits you. This is what you’d been missing, this is what made you feel good about yourself before, and since it stopped, it’s like you felt like part of you had been taken away. And, of course, Jeff is just utterly perfect and can somehow read your mind and know you better than you know yourself. So of course, he knows exactly what he’s doing right now. 

“I think I need a reminder,” you finally tell him, your voice quiet and soft. 

“I think you’re right,” Jeff nods in agreement, pulling you tight against him, reaching up to caress the side of your face lovingly. “Because I don’t like the way you talked about my baby girl tonight.” 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you whimper, feeling like you’ve let him down somehow. 

“That’s okay. It’s my fault, I forget to remind her how she drives me crazy. I stopped telling her how often I find myself watching her, wishing I could be inside her all day every day. I guess she doesn’t realise how often I find myself thinking about fucking her.” 

You whimper at his words, your legs becoming wobbly for a reason other than your heels, now. Your aching feet are the last thing on your mind as your pussy begins to drip in your panties, and you rub your thighs together for friction. 

“I just wish she’d believe me whenever I do tell her these things. Because I really couldn’t wait to get her home tonight, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her skin, couldn’t wait to rip this dress off and leave it on the floor. She was the only one that could steal my attention tonight.” 

“Is that why you had a scotch with Jared?” you bravely sass, and Jeff chuckles, a little darker than usual which only makes your insides flutter. 

“If I remember rightly, teasing is one of your favourite forms of foreplay,” he smirks, and you pout your lips, hating that he’s right and he knows you that well. “Now if you don’t mind, baby girl, I think I’ve been patient enough tonight,” he growls lowly, bringing his lips to within millimeters of yours. “I wanted to spend the car ride there with my mouth between your legs, but I didn’t wanna ruin your outfit.” 

“Well you can ruin it now,” you breathe out, “Daddy,” you quickly add when you remember. 

“Good,” Jeff growls, his hand twisting into your hair as he closes the gap between you and kisses you fervently. 

You expect him to move it towards the stairs, or maybe even lift you and carry you to your bedroom, but Jeff does no such thing, and after a few moments of making out in the hallway, he begins to guide you backwards, towards the couch in the living room, pushing your back against the tall arm. You're just tall enough to slide your ass onto it, and Jeff’s lips leave yours as they drop to your thighs, and he eagerly pushes your dress up your legs and pulls your panties to one side, placing sloppy, wet kisses up the inside of your thigh, pushing your legs apart. 

“Fuck, Daddy, please,” you whine, pushing your fingers through his hair and making him chuckle against your skin. 

“I’ve missed that word on your lips,” he groans, biting down on your skin playfully. 

“I’ve missed it too,” you admit, your eyes fluttering closed in anticipation. 

“Fuck, baby girl, you’re fucking perfect, look at you. How did I get so lucky, hm?” he hums, and then licks a stripe through your slick, only moaning louder as the taste hits his tongue. 

“Oh shit,” you gasp, throwing your head back in the ripple of pleasure that washes over you at the first sensation between your legs. 

“You taste so fucking good,” he praises, licking another stipe, and another, before sucking your clit between his lips. 

*

He dines on your pussy for what might be hours, and your legs tremble and shake around him when you release your third orgasm onto his tongue, panting heavily as you start to come down from your high, only to feel Jeff’s mouth build it back up once again. 

“Please, Daddy, want your cock so bad, please,” you beg, wearily. 

“How can I resist when you beg so fucking pretty?” he groans, finally standing at full height, unzipping his slacks and fisting out his rock hard cock. You moan at the sight which makes him chuckle, and instinctively your legs widen further as if to invite him in. “Jesus Christ, baby girl,” Jeff growls, his lips and beard still glistening with your slick. “I could make myself cum just watching you like this,” he smirks, his fist slowly moving up and down his shaft. 

“No,” you whine needily, wanting him inside you before he even thinks about ending this. “Want your cock, Daddy, please,” you beg. 

“Alright, alright,” he laughs, stepping forward. He reaches up and softly wraps his hand around your neck, forcing you to look right at him, his cock teasing your entrance. “Do you wanna know what me and the boys talked about tonight?” he asks, and you instantly nod your head, wanting to know absolutely anything he is willing to tell you right now. “I told them how I couldn’t wait to get you home, how lucky I was that out of all the girls there tonight, you were the one I married… I told them how hard you made my cock the second I saw you in this dress this evening,” he tells you. “And d’you know what Jensen said?”

You shake your head, your heart thudding in your chest. “No,” you whine, still desperate for Jeff to stop teasing and push his cock inside you already. 

“He told me he couldn’t blame me, told me I was a lucky guy,” Jeff confirms, a smirk spreading over his mouth. “I couldn’t agree more.” 

The fact that someone else thinks that you’re attractive – someone who is married to someone as perfect as Danneel, no less – seems to do wonders for your confidence, and if you hadn’t already started to lift out of your funk thanks to Jeff’s words tonight, this would’ve certainly done it alone. Jeff seems to choose that exact moment to sink into you, and your eyes roll in pleasure as he hums and whispers about how perfect you feel, and how he never wants to fuck another pussy, how yours is the only one he ever wants wrapped around his cock again. 

His constant praises and brutal thrusts are enough to keep your climaxes coming, over and over again as you desperately try to hold onto your last remaining shred of sanity, but by the time Jeff’s through with you, you’re barely able to move, and your whole body trembles in his hold when he finally pulls you into his lap and strokes your hair as you both recover on the couch together. You smile happily to yourself, feeling so much better than you had been earlier this evening, and maybe it’s the countless orgasms he ripped from your body, but you feel like maybe you could believe at least some of the things Jeff had told you. 

“You were lying weren’t you?” you finally ask, looking up at him. 

“I don’t lie to you, baby girl,” Jeff insists, with no room for an argument in his voice. 

“Jensen didn’t say that,” you tell him, adamantly. 

“He did, actually,” Jeff chuckles. “Actually made me a little jealous,” he admits. “I urm… I know I’m not as attractive as him, and he’s younger, could probably keep up with you better,” he blushes. 

You scoff, sitting up to shake your head at him. “Are you kidding? I was the luckiest girl there tonight.” 

Jeff shakes his head, and you quickly realise that you’re not the only insecure one in your relationship, and you wonder if this is how you make Jeff feel when you say similar things about yourself. 

“Okay, here’s the deal,” you announce. “I’ll start believing you if you start believing me.” 

“Alright, deal,” Jeff nods, smiling softly. “But on one condition,” he adds, which makes you frown slightly. “We bring that Daddy thing back because fuck, that was hot.” 

You laugh and nod your head. “Yeah, I guess I’m okay with that,” you smirk. 

Please let me know what you think of this fic! Feedback is the fuel to writers' fires! My anon is on if you'd prefer to leave feedback anonymously!

Find out how to get your own commission here!

[berzatoe]

I Can See You

Warnings: swearing, smoking, smut, fingering, oral (M receiving), p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, spanking, dom!carmy, sub!reader, lots of dirty talk, Carmy is mean.

Pairings: Carmen Berzatto x F!reader

Synopsis: reader is a new hire at the bear set to replace sydney while she goes abroad, and she and carmen do not get along. On a particularly stressful night, they find a great way to sort out their differences.

Authors note: okay I was listening to Taylor’s song “I can see you” and this came to mind so here. There’s not enough Carmy smut out there so I am contributing. ALSO ACCEPTING REQUEST RN SO PLEASE SEND!!!

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

—————————

The clock was ticking. A few minutes to open and so far, everything that could go wrong, had gone wrong.

When you agreed to fill in as Sous for sydney while she went abroad to study in Copenhagen, you didn’t realize what you were getting yourself into.

Night after night, you had anxiety levels in that kitchen similar to those of someone being hunted by wild animals.

That’s why they call it the bear— the thought occurred to you the first rush you worked. Richie and Carmen had almost killed each other, Tina nearly walked out, you were down an oven and the damn fridge was broken. It felt like you were running for your life as you tried to gain control of that kitchen.

“Chef, I said hands.” His firm voice cut through your thoughts.

“Yes, chef.” you followed his voice and took his place mixing as he began chopping vegetables. His biceps flexed with the heavy rhythm of the knife coming down against the board, veins swelling with tension, knuckles growing white.

He was another problem. He was the essence of the bear. You two butted heads like no other. Ever since sydney hired you to take her place for her leave, he’d been at your throat, hungry for your blood.

You were an ingenue of sorts at a prestigious chef school, and went on to work in one of his competing restaurants in New York at a very young age. You had come in with confidence of your abilities, and had different ways of doing things than Carmy. He couldn’t quite accept it, and you knew he didn’t respect you just yet.

But you craved his approval, for some reason. Something about Carmy made you thirst for his praise. You were constantly showing him new dishes you wanted on the menu to only be turned down. You two would easily get in screaming matches over wether to dice or mince, which spices to add, how long to cook, until you were out of breath and both needed a smoke break.

It didn’t help that he was so goddamn handsome. Watching him work, watching him be impassioned by his work, in command of his staff, it set something off in you. Even when he was screaming at you, there would be a glint in his eye, a vein popping in his neck, or a tone he took that would have you clenching your thighs together.

Now, you stood next to him staring at his strong arms and hands cutting vegetables, falling apart because you’re so stressed and all you can think about is those hands around your throat.

“Chef! What the hell!!” carmy shouted

You’d somehow poured the entire stock pot of sauce all over the oven.

You were stood there just staring at it emptily, trying to understand how it had happened.

“What were you thinking?!” Carmy yelled again.

“I can make more! I’ll get right on it, Chef.”

“We are fucking opening in exactly one minute, chef, we needed that sauce. We NEEDED THAT FUCKING SAUCE.”

“It was only half of the batch, the other one is still there.” You pointed toward the other pot, still heating. Then Carmen let out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose as your eyes widened.

The second timer for it immediately went off, meaning it had reset. The alarm rang through the kitchen like a death siren. The sauce was cooking for twice as long as it was supposed to.

“Yup, looks like you burnt that sauce. Congratu-fucking-lations. We can’t open. Are you incompetent chef? Are you stupid?”

The words hurt. “I was going to take care of that sauce before you called for hands!”

“This is the 5th thing you’ve fucked up this morning. You’re ruining my open.”

“If you ever listened to me, I swear I have a more efficient way to do this where we don’t need to call hands and everybody has a set job—“

“This isn’t your restaurant, chef.” He cut you off with a cold stare to match his words, eyes piercing into your soul.

You huffed and spun around, scared if you stayed everyone would see you cry. You ran to the back, out the door, and sat against the brick wall of the alleyway. You rolled your head into your hands, trying to collect yourself.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” Richie’s voice rung out. He stood leant up against the fence, smoking.

“Oh god,” you sniffed, looking up and quickly wiping tears away. You didn’t answer, instead, you reached out your hand, silently asking for a smoke.

Richie obliged and continued, “you know, Carmy is really hard on you, huh?”

You stayed quiet, taking a long drag and looking off to the city as you exhaled.

“He has a really hard time with people. He’s not like me. And I think he’s really threatened by you, cuz you’re so good. He had to be a control freak and work for it, but you’re just good.”

You pondered this for a moment, “you really think that?”

“Uh, yeah sweetheart. You’re a natural. He has to at least believe he’s in control or else he’d go apeshit. Also, I think he sort of has a thing for you, so it affects his focus… or whatever…”

You paused. You never thought of the possibility that it could be mutual. That he’d lose focus looking at you the way you so often did with him. But he had just been such an asshole, and you were angry, and god, you wanted to make him pay.

“Richie, I don’t think that could be true. He doesn’t like me. He’s so mean to me.”

Richie just chuckled and then put the cigarette the two of you had been sharing out.

“I know the kid. Get back in there, make him think he’s in charge, and do your thing, little miss sunshine.” Richie smiled and squeezed your shoulders. That was his nickname for you, because of your general sunny disposition. It had changed the place a lot.

The rest of your shift until close, you did what Richie suggested. You made Carmen think he was in charge. You followed orders with a smile and a “yes, chef”, you trailed after him and cleaned up his messes without him noticing, and soon enough the two of you were doing a successful close, allowing the rest of the staff to go home early.

Through the night, you’d also found a way to combat how distracted Carmy could make you. Richie’s intel had allowed you to flip the tables on him. Instead of focusing on how worked up he got you, you started focusing on how worked up you could get him.

You’d always stare at him for just a second too long after saying “yes, chef”, you’d squeeze pass him, intentionally pushing your body close to his. You’d find opportunities to bend over in front of him, stretch out, let your hand linger on his too long when he handed you something. Anything to be close, any chance you got. You were doing your best to see if what Richie had said held any truth to it.

You’d almost given up, you thought for sure something would happen, but the two of you had wrapped things up and were turning down the lights in the restaurant as you got ready to leave.

Carmy had been suspiciously quiet since everyone went home and you were beginning to feel awkward in the silence.

You were standing in front of your locker, grabbing your bag, when Carmy turned around and said, “Wanna tell me what the fuck was up with you tonight?”

You swallowed and turned around to face him, “I don’t know what you mean.”

He took a step closer to you, “I think you do.”

He walked the small distance between your lockers until he was flush against you. He leaned forward until you were cheek to cheek, his lips to your ear as he whispered, “you think you could ruin my open, then tease me like a desperate little whore the whole fucking shift, and get away with it?”

His words went straight to your pussy. Your heart was beating faster than it had ever before, here you were; finally caught by the wild beast hunting you down. He’d fallen for your bait. You smirked.

He lifted his head from your neck where he was planting kisses, seeing the grin on your face. He gripped your jaw with a firm hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Oh, you’re proud of yourself, hmm?” His hand trailed down and came to rest at your collar bones. You moaned in response.

He knew what you wanted. His hand closed around your neck and you smiled again.

Carmen closed his lips around yours. It was unexpected, and even though his hand was rough against your neck, the kiss was slow and gentle. It felt almost nervous, hesitant maybe, and that just made you even more desperate for him. You let out a whimper, begging him to give your more, and his tongue licked into your mouth as his other hand came up to squeeze your breast.

After that he went feral. Pushing up against you, clutching onto your throat, licking roughly and desperately into your mouth, grinding his hard cock against your heat.

He came back up for air, staring at you for a moment, searching your eyes for any regret, hesitancy, anything but what he found; which was pure, eager, lust.

He trailed kisses down your neck and chest and latched onto your nipple as he quickly began pushing down your pants. His calloused hands slowly began teasing the soft delicate skin of your thighs, rubbing soft circles so close to your core.

You whined, and in response he let out a light teasing chuckle as he pushed his hand pass your folds, immediately landing his thumb right against your clit.

Your body convulsed at this, and he loved it. He studied your face, looking for every reaction and using them as cues as he began circling his thumb against your clit.

“Yeah?” He breathed, clearly enjoying it too, “is this what you wanted? Hmm? You’re so fucking wet for me. How long have you been thinking about this? How long have you wanted me to touch you?”

Any nervousness you had detected in Carmy before was long gone. He was in control. You were letting him be in control, again, and he was about to ravish you for it.

“Answer me.” His thumb stopped and he tightened his grip around your neck.

“I’ve wanted you since-“ he began rubbing your clit again.

“Since- my first shift- I-“ his ring finger poked at your entrance.

“I-I can never stop thinking about you and-“ his finger fully entered you now and you instantly clenched around it.

“And- I always fantasize about you fucking me which is why i can’t do any of my work right!” You spit out quickly as his finger began pushing in and out of you. At this, he curled it up to meet your spongey spot deep within and you let out a yelp.

“Oh poor baby” he said as he slowed his movements, adding another finger and thrusting them in and out at a torturous pace. Your back was still pressed up against the lockers and the sting of the metal carving into your skin heightened all of your sensations.

“Stupid little slut can’t do her job because she wants to fuck her boss so bad, is that it?” He thrusts his finger into you hard.

“Please” you begged.

“Please what? What do you want?”

“Go faster, I’m so close!”

He instantly removed his fingers from your and you felt the emptiness like a hole.

You went to complain before he clamped a hand around your mouth, “Don’t say a thing. You’re lucky I even gave you my fingers after the shit you pulled tonight, baby. You think you can tell me what to do? You think that’s how this is gonna work? I would just let you cum and then give you my cock and make you cum again?” He laughed.

His eyes were dark and full of want, his cock was hard and it was so painfully evident through his pants. It looked so big and you couldn’t get your mind off of it.

He noticed you staring and began undoing his belt. “Get on your knees.”

You gulped and froze.

He put a hand on your shoulder, pushing you down until you were kneeling, “I said, get. On. Your. Knees.”

He finished undoing his pants and you were face to face with his long, hard, thick cock.

“Be a good girl and suck it, baby” he said. You started towards him before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you back.

“What do you say when I ask you to do something, darling?” His tone was condescending, but you answered nonetheless.

“Yes, chef.”

He groaned and rolled his head back, “yeah, that’s right, good fuckin’ girl” pushing your head back towards his cock as an invitation. You accepted.

You were brutal with your movements, sucking and licking and pushing him as deep as you could get him. He was anything but shy with letting you know how much he enjoyed it, his grip tightening around your hair and pulling and pushing ever so slightly, his hips unintentionally bucking up, forcing his cock down the back of your throat.

And the sounds he was making, oh, they could only be from your dreams. He was unraveling at the seams and whimpering like a dog when you reached your hand up to cup his balls and lightly massage them, he pushed your head so far down you couldn’t breathe.

“Oh my fucking go-d” he said before pulling you off him with a “pop” and staring at your fucked-out face.

Blown out eyes stared back up at him, saliva coating swollen lips, mascara smudged and running, hair a mess. He was proud of himself, and the sight turned him on to no end. He knew if he let you continue he’d cum. However, you were relentless and as soon as he let up on your hair, you dove back down.

“Okay baby, that’s enough.” He said, tearing you away again.

“Why?” You asked genuinely, and it made his heart flutter.

“Cuz if you don’t stop, you’re gonna make m’cum. Can’t do that yet. Wanna do it deep, deep inside ya’… if that’s okay?” He whispered gently, cupping your face and wiping your cheeks.

“Please, god please.” You cried, nodding your head. He grabbed your hand and helped you up, leading you to his office.

There, carmy turned you around and placed, gentle, sweet kisses along your shoulder before whispering, “are you sure this is okay?”

To which, you nodded desperately. But that wasn’t enough for him.

“I need you to say it, honey. I need you to say that you want this. That you want me to fuck you right here on this desk, and fill you up with my cum.”

“I want you Carmy, I want you so bad.”

“Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me on this desk and fill me up with your cum.” You whined, slightly embarrassed, pussy swollen and begging to be fucked.

He pushed you down until you were bending over the desk, chest flush against it. He got a good look at how much you truly wanted him.

“Jesus Christ, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen” he said, roughly spreading you.

“So fucking wet and tight too, could feel you squeezing my fingers earlier.” He spit into his hand and cupped your pussy with it, rubbing the spit down and over your folds.

You felt the tip of his cock tease your hole, slowly making little circles, just barely entering. At this point, you were so ready for him this actually felt mean. You needed relief and he knew it, he saw it, saw your clit throbbing and your legs shaking, body blushing all over. You beginning to make a sound you’ve never heard yourself make before.

He starts to softly comfort you but you know he’s proud of himself, with a smirk on his face as he does it, “ssshhh-sshhh… it’s okay, baby. I know, I know, it’s a lot. I just wanna make sure I don’t hurt you so I’m gonna start real slow, okay? Know you need me. Gonna take good care of you, promise” he slowly starts to inch himself in, and you have to admit, his size surprised you. You were glad for his patience.

When he finally burrows himself all the way within you, you both let out a moan in-sync at the new feeling. Both taking a second to adjust, you tighten and release your walls, making him groan.

“So. Fucking. Tight.” He says between thrusts as he begins, setting a good pace.

Once Carmen is finally fucking you, finally moving within you, taking you raw, you feel free. You let go of all the stress from the restaurant and let him drill it out of you, and you’re sure you’re serving the same purpose for him.

“S’good… so fucking good…” carmen is saying as he fucks you, pace picking up, getting more rough by the second. The praise makes you melt, you squeeze him again and revel in the loud moan you get out of it.

He grabs another fistful of your hair and pulls your head back, making your back arch and the position hit so much deeper. He leans over your body and reaches down to rub your clit with the hand not on your head. It makes you tremble under him.

“Doing s’well for me baby… knew this was all you wanted…. All I could ever think about too… taking you back here… fucking you hard and good just to shut you up… emptying my load deep inside you… leaving you to work the rest of your shift all filled up with me… you’ve been such a little tease every day since you got here… giving me those looks across the kitchen, wearing those little outfits in on your days off, pushing my buttons just to get a rise out of me… I’ve wanted this for so long, pretty baby. You’re so fucking pretty”

You cry out at his drunken confession. It gets you so worked up, you’re almost there, and you can tell he is too.

“Carmy…” you whine, feeling him so deep, hitting that spot every single time without pause, working you up and up and up.

“Yes, baby?”

“Cum inside of me, please. I want it all. Want you to fill me up. M’sclose too. Please please please, fill me up Carmy.” You’re practically in tears and it does something to Carmy. He hears you.

He quickens his pace, getting sloppier, rougher, more sporadic, the two of you making noises like animals, and soon he takes a hand and slaps it down across your ass, causing a loud thwack, as you scream in euphoria. He does it one more time, hard enough to leave a welt, before spilling his seed deep, deep inside of your pussy.

As he pumps his seed into you, again and again, you feel that coil come undone and are seeing stars before you know it, panting and moaning and sweating as Carmy holds you in his arms and snaps his hips back into you occasionally.

He’s collapsed over you on the desk, the two of you exhausted and decompressing. He places a few kisses against your cheek before standing up and pulling himself out, groaning again at the sight. He sees your welted ass, pussy red and swollen, knees shaking, body rising up and down from being out of breath and he instinctively pulls your dead weight into his office chair and runs to get you a water.

You decide that you and Carmy have found an incredible, healthy way to work out your differences in the kitchen.

[itsmebytch001]

Carmy's Kid: Pt 1

Sat down on a leathery dirty seat the bussesl of customers swallowing you up pondering on your testing math work, and the overhearing of your father screaming was certainly not helping in the mildest.

Carmy: "Cousin, Cousin?!" He bangs his pan onto the stove.

Richie: "What? What?!" He turns into the kitchen from the freezer.

Richie: "Corner" Sydney swerves around him.

Carmy: "Where is the fucking Borchetta?"

Richie: "Oh I don't know why don't you look for it, I don't what with maybe your eyes? You know those water things in your eyes?"

Carmy: "I'm doing a million things right now cousin can you please please tell me where the God damm Borchetta is?!"

Richie: "I DON'T KNOW!" He screamed, your Dad looks like he's about to snap.

Carmy: "Sydney, you see the Borchetta is?"

Sydney: "No Chef, Corner!"

Carmy: "Marcus?"

Marcus: "No Chef, behind!" he bellowed skimping behind his co-workers.

Carmy: "Dear God I know somebody's got the fucking Borchetta!"

Richie: "You know what cousin? maybe it grew legs and ran away, huh? Do ya think maybe that's happened baby?"

Carmy: "you know what? Go fuck yourself Richie"

Richie: "You kiss your daughter with that mouth?"

Carmy: "Don't talk bout my fucking kid Richie"

Richie: "See? See? he did it again! My God she's gonna be swearing like a sailor ain't she Sids?"

Sydney: "Shut up CORNER!"

Richie: "shut up? Shut up? are you for real?" He took a stride towards Sydney as she help a hot tray full of cooked beef.

Carmy: "Step off Richie"

Richie: "Shut up?" He loomed over like a mildly threatening swamp three.

Sydney: "Get out my face"

Richie: " sorry what was that sweetie?"

Sydney: "Get.Out.My.Face" her hands tensed over the hot tray, a hand reaches over Riche's shoulder.

Carmy: "Step the fuck off Richie, NOW HAS ANYBODY SEEN THE FUCKING BORCEHTTA?!"

Richie: "Look in the God Damm pantry, you retarded prick!"

Sydney: "You not supposed to say-"

Richie: "Oh Go fuck yourself Sydney"

Carmy:"Behind, behind, behind behind" he repeated snaking his way too the pantry, scanning over it to find no Borchetta.

Carmy: "It's not here cousin!"

Richie: "Look fucking harder!"

Carmy: "Fuck fuck fuck fuck " He's scrambling picking up soft cheese checking the lable and again and again and again where is it where is it where the Hell is it?

Carmy: "It IS NOT HERE COUSIN!"

Richie: "Dear God you blind dick, behind, behind, behind, behind"

He repeated following his path too the pantry, reaching for the top shelf, and picking up...the Borchetta.

Richie: "Here" he said practically throwing it at him.

Richie: "Next time don't be such a bitch about it, it's fucking cheese man"

Camry rubbed his eyes, the top shelf, the top fucking shelf maybe Richie put it up there just to push him, lanky ass dick, I should fire him. can I fire him? Did Mike leave me hire fire power? well I have hire power...it would be for the best...but how's he gonna pay his Child support? who care? No No that's cruel, he won't be able to see her any more if he can't pay, and imagine is you couldn't see Y/n? Imagine if Richie took Y/n then what would you do? I'd kill him? Obviously yeah and it's like you can run this joint if your fucking dead so shut up and don't fire Richie, m'kay? kay fine, jeez.

Camry rubbed his eyes, he's so tired.

Y/n.

Camry: "shiiiiit, Chefs! Eyes on Y/n!" Tina peers her head out the door to see you still, looking sadly onto your maths paper.

Tina: "Got her Chef, who's the guy?"

Carmy: "who's that what?"

Tina: "That guy? sittin across her?"

Camry: "What?" He said pacing quickly over looming behind her to see some dirty old hobo talking to you.

Carmy: "Ay AY what the fuck you think you doing?!" he yelled over at him.

Tina: "Chill man, he seem's harmless"

Richie: "Seem's, yeah."

Carmy lightly pushed past Tina out the kitchen and into the diner.

Carmy: "Get out, GET OUT!" He yelled at the man, who really had done nothing wrong, eating his sandwich.

"Whoah, Whoah I ain't done nothing man"

Carmy: "Fuck you doing sitting across my kid?" He grips the mans shirt and pulls him close.

"There aren't any more seats?" They are infacnt, no more seats.

Carmy looks around and confirms, there are no more seats.

Carmy: "I don't give a fuck, you eat outside!"

"Its snowing?!"

Carmy: " I don't care, get out GET OUT!"

You place your head on the counter and cover your ears, your Dad get's scary when he's like this. Your 'Uncle' Richie slips in behind pressing his hands in between Your Dad, and the homless guy.

Richie: "Chill man you gotta chill"

Camry:" Don't tell me what the fuck to do Cousin"

Richie: "Look around your scaring her you idiot"

Camry glances over to you, your forehead pressed against the table your ears covered.

fuck.

he released the man from his grasp, collecting himself in deep shaggred breaths as he scattred off.

Richie: "You gotta chill ma-"

Camry banged his fist onto the table.

Camry: "OKAY LISTEN UP, LADIES AND GENTELMEN THIS SEAT HERE!" He pointed at you "WITH THE LITTLE GIRL IN THE PURPLE COAT, IS RESEVRED, Mkay?! ANYONE ONE WHO SIT'S ON IT BANNED!" He pointed at the homless man rushing his way out.

Carmy: "BANNED!" He banged his fist on the table again, fishing his speech, causing you to tense and shudder Richie gestured to you, shaking still with your hands over your ears, Camy wiped his hand over his face, realsing how over board he had just gone. He leaned over the table and gave you a kiss on the head.

Carmy: "I'm sorry I yelled baby, I'm so sorry" He rubbed your hair and you lifted your head.

Carmy: "Tell you what, Tell you what? I'll help you when we get home if you want? yeah?"

Y/n: "Sure"

Carmy: "Okay, okay I love you" He said kissing again on your temple.

Y/n: "How long till closing?"

Carmy: "4 Hours baby"

Y/n: "Four!?"

Carmy: "That's just how it is baby, but we got a stack of books you could read yeah? Still working your way through Harry Potter"

Y/n: "Ugh, fine" You sank into your chair.

Camry: "Okay, okay well I gotta get back to work now baby"

Y/n: "I know"

Camry: "M'kay, RICHIE!" he yelled off into the kitchen.

Richie: "what?!"

Carmy:" Get Y/n her fucking books!"

Richie: "Which one?!"

Camry: "All of em!"

Richie rolled his eyes and collected the thick stack of books and plopped them onto 'your' table.

Richie: "Here you go Princess"

Y/n: "thanks"

As Carmy and Richie walked back into the kitchen, leaving you to your devices,

Richie: "Why don't you get her a Ipad? keep her entertained for hours no complaints"

Carmy: "I'd rather skin myself, now fuck off and get me some Borchetta, this is off"

pt 2? Need ideas.

[gnnosis]

i have a theory about the bear & carmy’s artistic talent and no one else (that ive seen!) seems to be talking abt this. gotta get it out there so if it happens i can say i predicted it

carmy is going to leave the restaurant industry. we see time and time again that carmy is not happy in the industry, and maybe never has been. he’s traumatized by the fancy restaurant he worked at. he wanted to work at the beef, but only to be with mikey. he took over the beef because he (felt he) owed it to michael — and because he had the skills — not out of some great love of cooking. he only got to his level of skill out of a self-professed “fuck you” to mikey! carmy’s not happy. “this shit’s not fun for me,” he says to richie. make no mistake — he’s really, really good at it. but he’s not happy. the industry brings out the worst version of him, every single time. the stress of the kitchen turns him into the bear from the 1x01 opening, into his mother.

contrast this with syd and richie, tina, even marcus. even under stress, even with everyone yelling at each other, the kitchen brings out the best in them. they’ve improved their skill levels because they feel they owe it to themselves. richie thrives under the pressure of being a concierge, he’s a new man, he wears suits now. tina is a transformed person because she’s begun to believe in herself (and knows others believe in her). marcus (although thwarted by his own hyper-focus sometimes) delights in the craft of being a pâtissier, creates spectacular, thoughtful dishes — he flourishes.

and sydney. sydney, under stress, opening night, is throwing up in the bushes, like we know carmy did in a job that was Bad for him. but it’s not the stress of the job per se that’s getting to syd, but the pressure she’s put on herself to do well enough that her dad will see the bear as she sees it — her very own place in the industry she loves above all else, a place to practice her beloved craft, to take care of people, to pour everything she has into this one thing. it’s not the job making her physically sick, like it did carmy, it’s the pressure of showing how much she loves the job, of her dad thinking she’s doing well enough to deserve to love and devote herself to it as much as she is. and in the kitchen, under pressure, with carmy locked in the fridge, syd doesn’t panic, doesn’t yell and scream — not really. she collaborates with richie, delegates as necessary, steps up — and leads. she shines.

carmy as a chef is doing what he’s good at, performing the skills he’s cultivated. it might be the only thing he feels he’s good at. it’s all he’s ever really known. but it’s not healthy. it’s killing him. it’s ruining his relationships with everyone important to him. he needs to get out.

i predict that sydney and richie will take over the bear. probably with nat’s help behind the scenes. they love it. it gives them purpose. it makes them thrive.

and carmy… will go to visual arts school. (or simply become an artist. do people still do art school these days? if so… like… he could do worse than SAIC)

i don’t think the show has been dropping all these references to carmy’s artistic talent for no reason. the pants he designed (thom browne’s!), the drawings of claire they mention and then flash during his panic attack, the speculative drawing of the bear he gifts michael in 2x06, and the menu drawings that sydney gushes over. the painting he hates that’s hung in the restaurant? could you do a better one, carm?? in the future, will that get replaced with one of yours, carm??? his artistic talent is lingered on too much to not be indicating something about what carmy really loves. a talent he innately has but doesn’t seem to realize the depth of. what he’d spend his time doing absently before he got caught up in the rat race of the restaurant industry. he talks about art like it’s something he’s compelled to do, like it’s something he loses himself in. a flow state.

carmy can flourish too. it’s just that he’s going to need to go somewhere else to do it.

[sp0o0kylights]

 armed your words with explosive devices and put the trigger on your tongue.

I never know if a kiss will kill me. 

It's a joke. 

Or at least, Eddie meant it as one. 

He was flicking his hand out with the intention of pretending to "push" the weight off Steve's shoulders, following a joke about how he looks like he's carrying the whole world on his back.

Beyond the general air of a frazzled single mother, Harrington had been down to clown. He'd laughed at Eddie's first few jokes, even made a poor attempt at making one back.

So it surprised both of them when Steve flinches back, hard, sucking in a noisy breath.

For a moment he holds it in and Eddie mimics him, hand frozen midair. 

They breathe out almost together as Eddie slowly lowers his hand.

"Steve." Eddie starts off, voice soft. 

Steve jams his hand in his hair, face flushing red. "Sorry man, jock reflexes."

He catches the second Steve forces a smile back on his face, the way his desperate attempt at tugging on his own hair changes into a move designed to fluff it up. A laugh makes its way out of Steve’s mouth and to his credit, it sounds natural. 

This, Eddie realizes with an abrupt clarity, is Steve caught wrong-footed in public. This is Steve being off and fixing it before he breaks down. 

It’s a good cover, excellent even, and if Eddie hadn’t been watching for the signs, if he hadn’t started looking closer and closer at Harrington after finding him drunk and bloody in Tina’s bathtub, he might have brushed it off. 

Thought of it as Steve being a jerk, a jock, a guy who didn’t want to touch the filth that was Eddie Munson and was now trying to hide it.The same way so many others did, because they’d learned the hard way that a pissed off dealer won’t sell you any drugs. 

Eddie could even see him spinning this as having an off day. Maybe Steve was sore, maybe he was annoyed, maybe he was six other million things that he’d lead you to believe. 

Worse than knowing that he’d have bought Steve’s cover though, is that Eddie recognizes this. 

Has seen it before. 

Or micro versions of it. 

In class, when Steve’s asked a question he doesn’t know. In the hallways when someone tells a joke about his parents. In the parking lot when those kids snap at him, rolling their eyes and throwing their hands around.

Even the one basketball game Eddie attended, during his ill-fated attempt at joining the yearbook club before he finally started Hellfire. 

There had been a moment where Tommy had briefly turned on Steve, got some of the other boys to snap and snarl at the King in the face of a bad score. 

Called him stupid. 

Spineless and gutless. 

(Steve hadn’t even been the captain, back then.

 They held him responsible anyway.)

Eddie had thought it well deserved--even funny at the time-- considering what made up a man like Steve Harrington. 

Get big movie star hair, combine with no parents, and add tons of money. Shaken and stirred with little bits of never-ending popularity and girls swooning left and right over him, and you got Hawkin High’s most popular guy.

 Good to buy you whatever you needed, with a famously sharp tongue that he used in place of his fists. 

Grant still had nightmares over some of the names Steve had nailed him with. 

He was the school’s most desired bachelor until Nancy Wheeler took him down, proved even kings could be cheated out of their kingdoms. 

(One of the teenagers at the famed Starcourt fire, a hero in the papers for saving half a dozen kids. The pictures the news still occasionally shows often pin up those pictures of Steve, wearing this exact smile. 

It’s the same one he’s wearing now, as Starcourt burns in the background of each and every photo..)

The realization comes with a flood of knowledge--that Steve knows how to hide his issues, that he’s had issues for far longer than whatever--or whoever--is beating him up. 

Longer than Eddie himself had caught onto too--and Eddie had prided himself on seeing through people’s bullshit. 

If he does what Steve wants, let’s this drop, Steve will go on acting like everything’s fine. 

Just like everyone else does.

Eddie can’t do that. Has never been able to do that. 

"We both know that's bullshit." Eddie says, and he knew calling it out would get a reaction, but he’s not expecting the sheer strength of it. 

How Steve looks like he’s taken a punch, mask breaking fast on his face to reveal the hurt underneath. 

"Don't--" He tries to start, tries to breathe again and Eddie's not sure what caused it, but he knows the beginning of a panic attack when he sees one. “Don’t, please--” 

It’s the please that gets Eddie, the word sounding bruised. Like it hurts Steve to say it, that he only uses it as a hail mary that it may somehow help ward off whatever is coming. 

Eddie fights not to put his arms around Steve.

Protect him from whatever the hell is happening. 

"Hey." Eddie says, softly but clearly. "I’m sorry. Tell me what I did and I won’t do it again.” 

They’re in the middle of the school parking lot and neither of them can afford to misstep here. Not in a town like Hawkins. Eddie has a choice to make--to sweep Steve to somewhere safer, or to give space, back off so the younger man can regain control of himself and pick this up later. 

Steve takes a shuddering breath, hugs himself and bows his head. 

Eddie wants to go to him, to touch and comfort, but instead just hovers ever so slightly closer. “I’m here.” He whispers, just loud enough for Steve to hear. 

Steve takes the moment he needs, and Eddie knows he can at least give him that. Shield him from any onlookers with his own body. Use himself as a distraction if anyone comes up. 

His cheeks are wet when Steve raises his head. He wipes his face, bites his lip. 

It takes far less time for him to return to normal than Eddie would have ever thought, but then Steve Harrington keeps surprising him. 

“Shit.” He says, voice in a sort of croak. He clears his throat once, harshly. “Sorry.”

“I set you off, this ones on me.” Eddie says, keeping his voice smooth and calm. “I don’t want to push you, but I need to know what I said to upset you, so I can prevent it from happening again as best I can.” 

Steve looks up for a moment, away from him. Eddie allows it, acknowledges the move as Steve gathers the strength to face whatever hurt him enough to send him spiraling. This isn’t an easy thing he’s asking, and they’re in the worst place to do it--a potential audience can appear at any time. 

Eddie doesn’t want to lose this thread, though. Knows instinctively, how important it is. 

“It’s stupid.” Steve’s struggling to sound more normal, but the real surprise is that he’s starting to manage it. “It’s so stupid, but it’s--the word.” 

Short-term memory recall isn’t exactly a talent of his, but Eddie’s had plenty of practice with D&D. He runs the conversation back, and there’s really only one option that makes any sense. He almost says it again, but catches himself.

Thinks quickly on his feet. 

“Adult male cow crap?” He says, and tries to make his tone a little light. This is a calculated risk, Steve may very well believe he’s being mocked or teased.

The younger man snorts a laugh and thankfully doesn’t appear to take offense. “Yeah.” He drawls out, a tinge of embarrassment flushing across his nose.

It’s fucking adorable, and Eddie has to bite his lip to keep interrupting, inappropriate thoughts at bay. 

“Nance--when we--” Steve huffs an annoyed sigh, arms having shifted long ago to more of a defensive cross, nails digging into his sleeves while he taps his foot, aggravated. “It’s fucking stupid man, but that word got tossed around.” 

“Got it.” Eddie nods his head. “It’s gone.” 

“You shouldn’t have to do that.” Steve says, and it's got an angry undertone to it. “I need to get over it anyway. It’s been long enough.” 

The anger, Eddie decides, is self directed. 

He cocks his head. “Do people tell you to do that a lot? To just get over it?” 

Steve finally looks at him and to his credit the guy’s managed to go from actively falling apart to merely appearing cold and annoyed, as if the redness in his face itself is trying to help hide his emotions. 

That hurt thing flickers in and out of his eyes though, covered by an edge of something else, something stubborn. 

Yet again, Eddie finds himself wondering if he’s found Steve’s limit. If this is when he finally gets pushed away and threatened over all the things that have been revealed to him. Steve hasn’t made that move yet, but Eddie thinks that's mostly because Eddie keeps catching him off guard. 

To be fair, his own reactions are, at times, catching him off guard. This defensiveness of Steve, the way he wants to go slam whoever has hurt the younger man into a wall, to try and make everything better for a guy he previously hated…

Eddie knows what’s gotten into him. It’s his own personality, combined with his own inner sense of someone lost and hurting. Someone who needs to be rescued. 

He just never expected to have it pointed at Harrington. 

“Maybe.” Steve admits finally. “Doesn’t mean they’re wrong though.” 

Eddie can’t help himself. It’s a puzzle in front of him, dangled in the form of Steve and his weird injuries. Steve and his odd reactions. 

Beautiful, gorgeous, straight Steve Harrington, who once pressed his cheek into Eddie’s hands and closed his eyes like he’d found a slice of heaven. 

“Why?” Eddie challenges. He’s still close. Close enough that they’re going to have to pretend to be fighting if anyone else starts making noise. Eddie’s lost track of time entirely, can’t recall what period this is. Where he’s even supposed to be.

Hell, he never even asked why Steve was here. 

Steve’s mouth opens and closes, like he had an answer but suddenly thought better of it. 

He’s still tapping his foot. 

“Why would they be wrong? ” And at first Eddie thinks Steve is turning the challenge back on him, until he clocks the confused crinkle in his forehead, right between his eyebrows. 

Like a dog who just wants to be a good boy, and doesn’t understand why he’s being shouted at. 

‘Eddie, for once in your fucking life, focus!’ He thinks furiously at himself. 

“Because it hurts you. Because all of us “get over” things in different ways, at different paces.” He makes the quotes with his fingers, putting on a fun voice just to try and make even a small smile appear on Steve’s face.

It works, and Eddie grins despite himself and the seriousness of the moment. 

“Doesn’t matter how stupid it is, Steve-O. Our brains don’t care.” He knocks on his own to make his point. 

“I guess.” Steve says, and it’s not an agreement but Eddie will take it. 

Will take anything Steve will give him, which just shows how badly he’s screwing himself.

Straight boys, even ones wrapped up in some kind of mystery and sprinkled with dozens of other things that catch Eddie’s attention like Steve’s his own personal brand of crack, typically don’t mean anything good for him.

This time, he just hopes it can mean something good for Steve.

Eddie might not know much, but he knows Steve deserves something good.

[solaneceae]

consume

a team bolas oneshot (read on ao3) tw: cannibalism, fuga impossivel references

“Hey, Slime. Can I eat your leg?”

The hybrid makes a huh of confusion, still adjusting his trusty gas mask over his face as he loots his own dead body, codified arm still glitching from fresh respawn. Cellbit can hear Jaiden and Étoiles conversing nearby, Bagi and Tina not too far from them, and the entire area reeks of blood and death.

Red Spawn had, strangely enough, become some kind of safe haven for now — people from all teams that were begging for a break, for a chat, for any modicum of normalcy had started to flock there as the end Day Four drew near: separated lovers falling into each other’s arms, Étoiles coaching everyone on PvP techniques regardless of affiliation (because the guy just thrived on being kind and helping people become the best version of themselves, it seemed. Cellbit appreciated that), his very presence a deterrent to anyone who would dare to come and break the temporary peace (BadBoyHalo).

And now that they didn’t have to look over their shoulder every second, the cat hybrid had started to think. A risky endeavour in a place such as Purgatory, but after exchanging a heated kiss with his husband and getting the sudden urge to bite his mouth off, he had started to wonder.

There were so many bodies around their spawn. He had seen many for the past few days, most of them belonging to his own team, but the urge to chow down on fresh meat had been nowhere as strong as right then with Roier, not even close. (First day had been the odd one out, as everyone in red team had lost their minds to the fog and joined in on that fucked up banquet.)

A hypothesis is blooming in his mind. He needs to test something. “Can I eat your leg?” he repeats to a befuddled Charlie, who looks at him, then at his body, then back at him. “I mean. Sure? Knock yourself out.”

Cellbit does — and it’s disappointing. It starts off nice, his heart hammering inside his ribcage as he severs muscle and bone and tendon to rip Slime’s leg off his still cooling body, saliva pooling in his mouth as his pupils dilate to eat up all the blue, and he can feel it, the thrill, the desire, the manic joy; but then he bites into it and the leg loses solidity, turning into green goop that tastes like grass and it’s so sour, like an unripe lemon. He spits it all out, grimacing — his palate and tongue almost feel burned. He forgot slimes were corrosive. “Tastes like shit,” he huffs, and Charlie lets out a disappointed aw.

Results: inconclusive. Cause: negative bias, because Charlie is a fucking slime and hence an outlier. 

He asks Jaiden next, and she shrugs and tells him to go for it. (Maybe they should be worried about how flippant they’ve all become about cannibalism, but that’s a problem for post-Purgatory them to deal with.) And this time, it’s good. Her flesh is tender and moist, just the right balance of muscle and fat, and he gets a sick sense of satisfaction as she watches him tear into her thigh with morbid fascination. “How do I taste like?” she asks him. He tells her ‘delicious’ between two mouthfuls of prime cut, and she smiles. “Nice! I’m glad.”

Contrary to what some might believe, he hadn't eaten anything off the Federation workers he had killed. Hadn't reached that point at the time. But now there he is, seeking an enemy body among the dozens of Jaidens lying around. When he finally does, he stares down at it for a long moment, and finds that he has no desire to sink his teeth into it at all. Mmh. He looks up to find Roier, still silent to mind his recovering lungs and plopping down signs that make Étoiles crack up, and he’s so funny and cute and strong and Cellbit wants to crawl into his chest cavity and— “Ah,” he realises, something old and crooked at the back of his mind finally clicking into place.

He thinks of Pac. He thinks of Alcatraz, of that desire that had torn its way into his brain as soon as he had seen that youthful, terrified face for the first time. He thinks of those nights tossing and turning, tongue flicking out in a nervous tick as he obsessively rotated the new guy into his mind from every angle, trying to imagine what his screams would be like, how his flesh would taste, how it would feel going down his throat. He thinks of the pure, unadulterated pleasure of finally making that fantasy a reality, details blurring into red-mist bliss and the song of Pac screaming and crying. He finds that if he had to do it all again, right now, he would, but not like this. This time, dream-Pac would offer himself willingly, repeating I trust you, I trust you as dream-Cellbit reverently slices through his flesh.

He thinks of that thing humans have, when they experience the urge to squish or bite when they see something cute. He thinks of the result of his observations, that he only enjoys eating people if he cares for them.

(Maybe he had loved Pac once, in a fucked up version of a crush distorted by his mania and lifetime worth of trauma. Maybe that was why he had done what he’d done. Now the engineer was more akin to a brother to him, close and important, but that obsessive attraction wasn’t there anymore.)

Maybe it’s just in his nature, to consume the very things he loves. “Something on your mind?” Jaiden asks him later, sleepily, her head resting against his side as the rest of the family dozes off within the Nest in a tangle of limbs and soft blankets. Cellbit shakes his head. “Just. Processing stuff.”

Jaiden hums, and Phil drapes one of his large black wings over them both. The conure chirps, flock, home, and the crow replies with a quiet yesyes.

[wisteria-lodge]

In Fantastic Beasts and Where to find them, Tina uses "Mercy Lewis" as a grammatical intensifier/swear word a la "merlin" (1)

Mercy Lewis was one of the main witch-accusers during the Salem witch trials. Which makes her a really, really weird choice for Tina to evoke.

and I'm literally trying to figure out the thought process here.

OPTION ONE

"Mercy Lewis" is supposed to evoke the concept of a betrayer, like "Benedict Arnold" or "Brutus." (Like maybe she was a squib or something?) Idk, even typing that out feels in such bad taste. Merlin wasn't real. Nicholas Flamel was real, but all JKR says about him was "he made the Philosopher's Stone," which - considering that the real guy was indeed working on that... okay? Mercy Lewis was a real girl in real American history who really got people killed.

AND it doesn't even make sense linguistically. I'd sort of understand if Tina called someone "a Mercy Lewis" or "you're such a Mercy Lewis" after they betrayed her. But that's not the context?

OPTION TWO

Mercy Lewis is indeed a muggle, and so that would make this... anti-muggle hate speech? Like, I could KINDA see a world where "Mercy Lewis" was just a kind of stereotypical, mean way to refer to "Any Muggle." When Tina's being dismissive about Jacob she could have said something like "Forget Mercy Lewis over there, follow me." (but that's not the context in which it's used?)

Like we do know that Tina specifically hates Mary-Lou Barebone, who is a muggle that really hates witches and calls her group "Second Salem." Is this line meant to be drawing a parallel between Mercy Lewis and Mary-Lou Barebone. Or are we just looking for ANY way for Tina to KIND of bring up Salem, because it's sort of relevant to her villain?

OPTION THREE

This is some kind of a mistake. JKR wanted to use the name of one of the Salem Witches as an American equivalent for "Merlin" (still in bad taste but... I get it? ) And so she pulled up a list of names, and accidentally got the name of one of the people who were accusing people of being witches, instead of one of the actual 'witches.' She just kind of liked the ring of the name "Mercy Lewis" and went with it.

I can't help but think that this is just a small example of JKR being just... kinda careless, and kinda lazy, and kinda tasteless about non-European history. Like I am positive I just put more thought into this little moment than JKR ever, ever has.

~

(1) It is weird that "Merlin" is used as swear word at all, because in the HP series Merlin seems to be culturally important, but not a religious figure (which is generally how swear words work, the *thing* you're swearing by needs to be sacred, and 'profaning' it just communicates your level of Seriousness).

Of course, the Wizarding World seems to be completely atheist, which is is fine, and if I SQUINT, I can make "merlin" work in an "enlightenment science boner" way, like 'oh the muggles are hyper-religious and backwards, once we split from them we're going in entirely the opposite direction.' The French Revolution was aggressively atheist, and so was the Communist revolution, and you do have cultural important names like "Lenin" "Engles" "Marx" treated in a linguistically semi-religious way, okay. it's a thing.

but in The Cursed Child they start using "Dumbledore" as a swear word and that's so creepy and I hate it.

[comradeboyhalo]

q!Bad has been trying so hard to burn his bridges so I consider purgatory a win for him! Though will say that I think it's nice that he and Bagi's bridge seem more or less the same? I don't think that his bridge with Bagi burned because she didn't have expectations from him like the others did from not knowing how Bad was before + she's heard him talk about wanting to eat/kill people and him being in the war before and still decided that was the guy she wanted to hang around her - even when they met up and she decided to go into her safe zone, she still gave him a chance to talk with her rather then going 'oh nah actually you're going to kill me so we won't meet at all' or she could have told her teammates on him, gave Bad permission to kill her and has been actively going 'hi Bad!!' when she saw him before the whole transferring team situation, just wanted to ramble that I appreciated the way their friendship works and how I feel like there's not gonna be a difference for them when they go back to the original island

yes! you are so right and i will now ramble!

i see q!bad's friends categorized in two areas: friends who can deal with his demon nature and friends who can't. bagi, despite her strong moral code, has seen bad at his worst, and is able to stomach all of it. she is able to forgive him (even if he may break her trust), understand the way he navigates his relationships, and continue to know that despite his actions, she has his back and he has hers. others who similarly take bad in stride are foolish, tina, aypierre, and etoiles. he may fuck them over, but they all end up shrugging it off and bouncing back. (this, of course, goes especially for foolish).

i would say phil and bad had a good friendship, but purgatory has effectively ruined it. they were just never close enough with each other for phil to understand who bad is at his core. cellbit (from what i observed) seems to hold more immoral actions (i.e cannibalism, murder) with a much heavier weight than bad. yes, he is a dark character, but notice how cellbit needed to be pushed in this direction via external circumstances? meanwhile bad always seemed to be holding off eating people and murder to just "fit in" with society, because these traits are just more innately part of him. and this is why i think bad won't hold a grudge against cellbit for purgatory, but cellbit could.

forever and baghera are a special case in which they became friends with someone who was nice and caring, were able to ignore the dark implications of his moral code, but then couldnt anymore once he began to spiral downwards. theyve both had their purgatory moment with him; they've already seen the lengths he'll go to. its definitely taken a toll on their friendship, but if they were able to move past his torture of ron, they'll be able to move past this too (and they already have: baghera may be opposing him but she's still happy to chat, and forever and bad's relationship has honestly improved in purgatory).

i do think, at the end of the day, bad is the kind of guy that is very easy to hate, but also someone you really want on your side. take tubbo or pac. he was by the far one of the most antagonistic characters to them on the island. but when you're fighting to survive, suddenly that bloodthirsty demon is real nice to have at your back. its why foolish is so careful to prod into bad's plans, to see if their motives line up. i do believe that, even if he burns bridges with majority of characters, he is still someone most characters would want to fight with, rather than against.

[anonymous-dentist]

Cellbit has officially been forced back to the island by the Watcher and he’s going to force himself to kill all his friends because the Watcher says he has to (and the Watcher is never wrong.) And then he meets a lonely little child sitting in Cellbit’s husband’s garden.

He raises his machete, but he falters when he sees the too-big gas mask slung around the kid’s neck. Cellbit recognizes that mask, it’s Roier’s. From Purgatory. He and Cellbit decorated theirs, and this mask has his goofy little smile drawn on the back strap in permanent marker.

The kid doesn’t flinch as Cellbit approaches.

In high-pitched Spanish, the kid remarks, wide-eyed, “You’re a REALLY big Pepito!”

The kid has to crane their head back to look at Cellbit. They smile, gap-toothed, and they wave.

“Wanna sit with Pepito?” they ask.

The Watcher’s presence tickles at the back of Cellbit’s mind, as does the bloodlust.

He sits, anyway, and he places his machete (bloody already, sorry Tina) on the grass next to him. He criss-crosses his legs, and the kid mimics him.

“Where are your parents?” Cellbit asks, definitely not so he can kill said parents.

The kid shrugs. “Apa has been gone for a really long time, but Abuela says that he’s super pendejo, so he’s fine. So Pepito is waiting.”

Something rotten curls in Cellbit’s gut.

“Is your apa Roier?” he asks.

At the kid’s nod and succeeding rant about how cool their Apa Roier is and how he’s probably doing cool superhero things right now, Cellbit feels the rage inside of him spark into something other than self-hatred for the first time in over a month.

“How long has he been missing?” Cellbit asks.

The kid ponders for a moment before holding up both hands with fingers splayed. They close their hands into fists, and then they open them again. 20.

“This many!” they declare. “Probably. Pepito isn’t good at math yet.”

Twenty days. At least. And…

Cellbit sucks in a shuddery breath. “Has anyone been looking for him?”

The kid shakes his head with a shrug. “Pepito looked, but now Pepito is taking a Pepito Break.”

Assuming the kid is Pepito, that means. God.

The Watcher’s claws scratch at Cellbit’s brain, but he ignores Him for the moment. There’s something he needs to take care of before he can continue His war.

“Well, I’ll help you look,” Cellbit says. “Your apa is a good friend of mine.”

Pepito nods sagely. “You’re Pepito’s other dad, uh-huh.”

Cellbit would wonder how Pepito knows who he is considering the fact that Roier has probably already moved on from him, but, well, they’ve probably been hanging around Richarlyson.

(Richarlyson…)

“So you know that I’m going to find him,” Cellbit tells Pepito.

Pepito nods. “Dad Cellbit is a very strong Pepito.”

“And so are you,” Cellbit says.

He reaches out and pulls Pepito’s gas mask up so that he’s holding it over Pepito’s face; it’s too big for them, but if Cellbit adjusts the straps like so…

“There!” he announces, dropping his hands. “Fits perfectly!”

Pepito’s mask is still way too big, but at least it’s on their face now.

Through one of the eye holes, Cellbit can see Pepito’s smile. It makes his heart twist into a sad little knot.

But he won’t get attached, he knows that for sure. He’s going to help find Roier, and then he’ll slip out during the reunion.

He won’t be missed at all once Roier’s family is back together.

[elkyralt]

I think this Cellbit stream is so Ao3 angst but in the good sense. I was crushed. I will proceed to yap about it. Mystery Twins stream was CINEMA.

The entire reveal of having a sister is so bewildering to q!Cellbit that he doesn't have enough time to even form a coherent thought before launching into panic and subsequently anger. He sees q!Bagi - someone so innocent and passionate (from his point of view), that he feels the rift between them almost immediately. In his eyes, family is as tight as scales to a dragon, he has no reason to think otherwise since the family he's had on the island is the only exposure to the concept he's ever had.

In his eyes, Richarlyson is family. Roier is family. Pac is family. This random person that showed up at his doorstep and deemed him her brother simply cannot compare to the aforementioned. How can she just arrive and demand he act like a sibling, a twin no less? He's lost and confused like never before - and I think the point of them being twins triggers him more than if they were just siblings.

If they're twins, that means that they were born at the same time, it means that they lived through the same years. And yet, q!Bagi wasn't there during the years of war. q!Bagi wasn't there when all q!Cellbit had was q!Bad and the corpses he was forced to eat. He was on his own, she wasn't there, she didn't have to live through that. So why did he?

q!Bagi spent 15 years trying to find him, even telling him that she was at the prison he was to try and reconnect again. He doesn't understand this, because she knows what he is - she knows him to be the monster, and yet she still looks for him.

He doesn't understand what he did as a kid to deserve being in the war and then the prison. What could he possibly have done that was so terrible and disgusting that he deserved that? q!Bagi tells him of how similar they are, that they were once as tight as a sailor's knot, and yet.

q!Cellbit doesn't remember her. Not even an inkling of an idea as to who she is. If they're so similar and truly were so tight - what happened? What did he do to ruin it?

During their confrontation, or more specifically when they were at their old house on the island, q!Cellbit revels in the fact that he could have had a family and that all this was stolen from him. He wasn't allowed to have all this that q!Bagi speaks so fondly of.

q!Bagi then says that it wasn't stolen, because she's right here but q!Cellbit ignores this. Just because they're apparently family, doesn't mean he trusts her or knows her any better. She might as well be a stranger and that, inherently, means his family was stolen because of this reason precisely.

The anger he presents is only a veil to disguise the despair and shattered nature of his heart. He has sought control so desperately his entire life, and for once when he thought he had a foothold - he was sent tumbling back down the mountain. He feels as if there is no winning.

There's also when q!Bad and q!Foolish called him over to spawn after q!Tina read the book, he's detached, not quite fully there as they try communicate with him. q!Bad half-jokingly calls out to "Kill Tina" in a high-pitched voice, and yet q!Cellbit instantly snaps to clarity and brandishes his sword. Those years of battle have never been as forefront on his thoughts as they are in that moment, and q!Bad was his mentor and protector, taking orders from him is hard-coded into his phsyce.

I'm-

Dude. This cubito is shaving years off my life istg.