#whoops i word vomited

[mezzy303]

So I've been rereading skip beat from the beginning for the first time in uhhhhh almost 10 years and I'm going inSaNE over characterizations and development that I have to write it down

At this point I'm only at the Heel siblings arc so I haven't gotten to the Guam or Saena arcs which are very big for Kyoko and Ren's character development and healing which I haven't reread since those chapters came out

Can we just take a moment to appreciate Nakamura for basing Kyoko and Ren's childhood struggles and trauma on very real things that aren't often, if at all, dealt with in anime/manga and also writing them with utmost care (Not only do the traumas inform their personalities, but their healing arcs aren't just a one and done thing!! It's a very slow process) Like starting with Kyoko, her single mother neglected her so much that she was raised by a family friend. On top of that, nothing Kyoko did was ever good enough for her mother, and both of these things are so apparent in Kyoko's character. She attaches herself to fairytales and magic as an escapism and because she relates to stories like Cinderella. She literally cannot function if she messes up and no one criticizes her. She can't properly acknowledge her own talents and beauty without it being attached somehow to fairytales; she never quite believes shes good enough. Similarly, she didn't want to bother anyone with her troubles, so she always dealt with them alone/in private spaces. Pretty sure she also has lowkey abandonment issues. And this is all parental trauma!! Things she already has before the series starts and she gets so utterly heartbroken she swears off romantic love entirely so she can never get hurt the same way again.

(I don't think I'll ever get over how Kyoko told all this to Kuu and he was literally like I'm adopting you. Your mine now. Sorry I don't make the rules ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ And Kuu going home to his wife like hey we got a new kid 😂 Like Kyoko freezing up when she made mistakes and then Kuu showing her love instead of reprimanding her makes me go 🥹😩💖✨😭💝 Kyoko getting all fluffy from head pats🥹🥹 But on the downside she literally can't bring herself to call him dad unless she's in acting mode sjdfhsf)

When I really consider it, I wonder if Kyoko really loved Sho as a person or like.... the idea of him. Like he was just a convenient guy via proximity bc Kyoko needed someone to be her "prince". We haven't been shown exactly why she fell in love, but it would explain why she stuck with dedicating herself to him despite his terrible personality and knowing he never saw her the same way. It's portrayed like the concept of hatsukoi in anime where its ✨pure✨and innocent✨It seems very idealistic. Whereas Kyoko's love for Ren is more mature. She sees every aspect of Ren and doesn't sugarcoat it, she sees him as he is (she does him up on a pedestal but partially bc she admires him but also as an extreme measure to protect her heart and hide her feelings imo)

And REN. trauma to the max. He had to deal with the hardships of making a name for himself when his parents are already famous, extreme racism from being biracial, his friend/mentor dying from an accident he unintentionally caused???? Like boy hates himself so much he's literally disassociating 24/7 he needs a fucking therapist. I get how being Ren has helped him in some capacity but he needs a professional asap. Though deep diving into this is so interesting because Ren/Kuon compartmentalized his issues and the parts that he hates about himself so much he created its own persona ("Dark Kuon"), to the point he's rarely ever just himself. And he buried it so deep that as soon as he cracked the lid open, those emotions just spilled out. He can't even allow himself to be happy, and when he does feel truly happy, his automatic response is acting nonchalant,,,,,,,,,,,, he didn't even realize he was doing it at first 😢

Also the symbolism with Ren's watch makes me go a little feral. I don't remember if it's originally his or Rick's but it obviously stopped when the latter died and Ren keeps it as a reminder of what happened and why he went to Japan. It's a weird item since it grounds him but also represents his heavy trauma, and I think having those two things in one kinda showcases Ren's unhealthy coping mechanisms (like grounding himself to something traumatic isn't... great...). But that scene where he realizes he took it off and he has a moment of whether it to keep it on as Cain Heel or not??? *clenches fist* it was so good. (To recap it, he had his watch so he wouldn't lose himself in the role of BJ and then forgot it in the bathroom after an unexpected trauma response) Ren narrates his thoughts as choosing between Rick or Kyoko but interpreting this, he's choosing whether to keep himself stuck in his past trauma or move forward and let himself be happy AKA stick with unhealthy coping mechanisms vs try something healthy and rely on people he trusts. Kyoko essentially becomes someone Ren grounds himself to 🥺 He still needs therapy though lmao. He's so mentally unstable in this arc,,,

As I'm writing this I'm seeing a parallel between Kyoko and Ren and how they both had an experience that completely and utterly broke them, and it was this that pushed them onto their current paths in showbiz. And they likely would never have met each other again if those things never happened (they had to lose themselves to find each other?? 😭). It's so funny to me that Ren is all like ThEiR fAtEs ArE iNtErTwInEd with Kyoko and Sho when you have to consider the fact that him and Kyoko meeting again was like. a chance in a billion. It was fate 😂

KyoRen is such a poetic ship to me. The fact that they're different people when they meet and don't recognize the other. How Ren starts falling in love AS SOON AS HE REALIZES KYOKO IS THE SAME GIRL HE MET (Ren being gray/demiromantic.... more at 5). Kyoko lowkey starting to crush on Ren when she witnesses a bit of his real personality. These two things happening around the same time??????? And Ren being SO afraid of being Kuon, his true self, because of his bad qualities, but Kyoko pulling out the good qualities without him fully realizing it?? (I'm 100% referring to Kuon being a mischievous little shit and I live for how he teases Kyoko) tbh they treat each other differently from other people without even realizing it lol. And Kyoko being surrounded by toxic and possessive men pursuing her, and Ren being anything BUT. Like my man is a gigantic green flag. He recognizes that he can't seriously pursue Kyoko bc she's a minor and he really tries his best to only be a friend and mentor in her life and keeping her trust and never crossing her boundaries despite the stereotypes of men being "unable to control themselves." Y'all take point this should be the standard at minimum☝️

I have to talk about Sho bc this boy is so fucking toxic but he makes such a fascinating character. As much as I hate how Kyoko got heartbroken in the way she did, I think it was necessary so that she could leave Sho's sorry ass and cut him out of her life. Seriously,,,, he took advantage of her and used her as a servant. she literally dropped out of school, moved to a different city, and took on two jobs for the sole purpose of helping his career and then he threw her away like a used rag (JUST THROW THE WHOLE MAN AWAY). And then he has the audacity to fall in love with her smh. Anyway the fascinating part about him to analyze is how he's so possessive of Kyoko. Like she was a mere fly in his life, but she was always his. Until she wasn't. And I think those twisted thoughts kinda morphed into feelings for Kyoko. Ig in a way he still cares about her, but it could never hide how toxic he is. Anyone who's like I don't care how this person thinks of me as long as I take up the biggest space in their heart is egotistical and narcissistic. BUT he and Kyoko bickering like siblings will always be funny. Like epitome of two people who've lived with each other for way too long so they know how the other ticks and also get on each other's nerves 😂😂Sho does makes a good foil for Ren though. Like he's basically everything Ren is not: immature, temperamental, possessive, vain, the list goes on. His only redeeming qualities as a character is providing good drama and humor and being an example of what Ren isn't.

Skip Beat is really a story about healing and learning to love yourself and letting others love you and Nakamura is such a good story teller 🥺

[karniss-bg3]

What do you think Kar'niss would do if he survives the death of the Absolute and all? With everything over and we'll say that he is by Tav's side until the end as well. Would he worship Tav as another kind of god/goddess, or... something else?

Hm this is an interesting question because there are so many variables at play. With the way Larian has structured the game it seems like all companions have the ability to shift toward good or evil. Of course I've not done a playthrough with Karlach, Wyll and Laezel in my party from start to finish but it's in the works. I know they can dip if Tav pisses them off too much but for the sake of ease, I'll just assume basic good versus evil. Act 3 spoilers head.

Good Ending: At first Kar'niss would've been very hesitant to join Tav and friends, likely even violent. It'd probably take a high persuasion roll to get him into your party. Tav just destroyed those he was loyal to, after all. The artifact could do well to block the tadpoles influence but Kar'niss' shattered mind is a different kettle of fish entirely. I imagine the first interactions with him would be aggressive and stand-offish. After all he was just ripped away from his new home and lost his "Queen". He's likely feeling disjointed, scared and a bit lonely without "Her" voice to bring him comfort. It'll be up to Tav to replace the Absolute's voice with their own. Not only that, but Tav could give Kar'niss healthy love and attention, help break through those years of abuse and build his confidence. It would be slow going because he has so little self worth and trust.

Then there is the matter of him being a drider. I don't think Kar'niss would want to stay in that shape, he likely longs to be a full drow again. That begs the question, does Tav find a way to transform him back or let him stay a drider? Since Tav controls the narrative it'll be up to them on if he switches back. To my knowledge the only way to undo a drider transformation is a wish spell which does exist in the BG3 universe. There could be other ways if Larian wanted to keep it simple but assuming Tav somehow finds someone with a spare wish spell then perhaps that is how he is changed back.

At the end, if Tav works toward this goal, Kar'niss would find more of his own voice. His confidence would grow and he'd learn to stand on his own rather than mindlessly following others at the drop of a hat. He'd be able to think critically and make choices not influenced by whispers in his ear. In other words, he'll -choose- to stay with Tav rather than feel he's obligated to. I don't think his mind will ever fully heal, it's taken too much damage to come back from the torture he's been through. Tav helps keep him grounded though, working with his short comings rather than against it. If Tav romances him then Kar'niss laments in the final cutscene: "When you found us--me, I was in a fog. My body moved as if controlled by magic, but I was not the one commanding it to do so. From the Underdark to Moonrise I played a pawn for the sake of someone else's power. I thought I was doing the right thing, I believed it in the very depths of my heart. They would've condemned me to death and, mind controlled as I was, I would've marched into the sword with my head held high. Not only do I owe my life, I owe my very mind to your aid. I was nearly forever lost, thank you for seeing more in me than an irredeemable monster. I want to remain by your side anywhere the winds take us. I love you."

Bad Ending: While not requested I figured I’d write it up for the sake of curiosity. It starts very similarly except Tav uses their tadpole to overwhelm Kar'niss with authority. Tav may even convince Kar'niss that they are the physical embodiment of the Absolute to keep his compliance throughout. Kar’niss is more agreeable at the start due to this, devout and eagerly awaiting commands. The more Tav chooses to cater to his psychosis rather than break him from it he becomes even more unhinged overtime. There may even be exchanges where Kar’niss seems to talk to himself and ignore Tav completely from time to time. He’s lost to the voices in his mind and the fervent beliefs that have followed him for sometime. When he does have moments of clarity his focus is on doing the Absolute’s will. It’s an obsession and he seems to want to talk about little else. Tav could romance Kar’niss during this time but something may feel off about the interaction. Kar’niss will worship Tav, do anything that is asked, but there is a sense that he is doing so out of blind devotion rather than true affection. It’s empty. His love is tainted by a belief and trust born from deception.

As their journey nears its end, Kar’niss’ mental state has declined to a point where his speech breaks in the middle of conversations. He may zone out and some of his party interactions out in the wild could cease altogether. He’ll refer to Tav as “Majesty” and little else. The perfect obedient pet. Assuming Tav goes with the ending to destroy the Absolute then that fogs up Kar’niss’ fate a bit. I don’t think the other endings allow a romance cutscene to play at the end but I could be wrong. I haven’t tackled them all just yet so I’ll stick with the tadpole annihilation ending here. Even though the tadpoles are gone Kar’niss’ mind is well and truly fucked. Any sense of self has been all but destroyed, leaving nothing behind but a temperamental fanatic in a worse state than Tav found him in. Any use of the word ‘I’ to refer to himself has dropped from his speech completely.

“Majesty, w-we survived. Have we done well? Our devotion is unending for you. Tell us where we shall go and it will be done. We have never known such bliss, such comfort. Our pledge to you will never falter so long as we still draw breath. You need more followers, an army fit for a God/Goddess, and we will provide it Majesty. Just...don’t forget about us. We are still your favorite, yes we are...no one else can love you like us. NO ONE ELSE! Our love for you knows no limits, we will give you everything you desire. We are ready to march by your side, to the ends of the world.”

These are just two of MANY possible outcomes for poor Kar’niss. I think Larian would make his bad ending tenfold worse than I could ever conceive and that will haunt my nightmares for sometime.

Sorry this is so long, my mind wouldn’t shut up. I hope this answers your question. Thanks for the ask!

[shima-draws]

Me, already planning out a full length complex AU: Oh no

[fredmundo]

okay so I saw this post from @loveyourownsmiilee (who i adore<3) and I just had to word vomit about eddie and red and blue and dates.

first eddie wears red on dates with ana and hot latina girl (i don't her name but she pretty). i think this is him trying to force himself into a box and meet the expectations that he puts on himself to find a romantic partner.

like i think he says something along the lines of "she's the type of person i should want to be with" about ana. which is not a good base for eddie to stand on. but eddie struggles a lot with expectation and pressure.

he goes on this date with this girl (hot latina girl -- i wanna know her name but i don't sorry) to please tia pepa and he knows from the first moment and before than that he just doesn't want to be there with her. he's wearing red and he's just performing.

with buck he wears blue. he doesn't have to perform he gets to just goof around and be himself with buck. he doesn't need to meet any expectations because buck just wants eddie to be himself and he gives eddie room to do that. so he wears blue with buck.

also eddie is wearing a red coat over a black shirt which just perfectly mirrors what buck wore to poker date night so like ????

----

now i wanna talk about buck and red. and how it connects to eddie and eddie's search for a romantic partner. eddie wears red because it's what he's looking for but can't quite find with these women. red is this unspoken requirement for eddie but it never works out when he's the red an dtrying to bring that to the table (because he's blue).

but buck is red. i mean there's buck wearing that red jacket with chris in the tsunami arcs and then he wears something similar talking about love and what love is. and then after the tsunami, he's wearing red when eddie practically gives him chris "there's no one i trust with my son more than you".

there's more instances of red for buck. but the point is still clear i hope.

eddie wears red on dates (with women) because he is always looking for what he has with buck. he is looking for buck on these dates. he is trying to perform and be someone he isn't because he has to hide when he isn't with buck.

basically something something eddie is blue and buck is red something something<3

[arbitrarygreay]

More evidence that Alder would have done gangbusters focusing on espionage: Petra notes in 2x4 that "Intelligence does often have a hard time keeping track of the General's comings and goings." Literally the person in charge of keeping track of information and shit says that Alder and her Biddies were giving them the slip all of the time over the decades. It's like the inverse of the Marshal being able to hunt anyone down, Alder is able to slip the leash when she wants. Which kind of goes against the popular fanon of Alder being stuck in meetings and in the unavoidable public eye all of the time, and finding it a burden. It turns out, Alder not only made a habit of getting around surveillance, but the other side of that coin is that what publicity/propaganda/speeching/posters/etc. she did do was of her own desire. If she didn't want to be a public face, she could choose to avoid it all. (To where when Nicte forced her into the Warding Circle and Petra appeared to make announcements with Silver instead, it was notable by everyone, a duty that Alder relinquished reluctantly.)

[keirawantstocry]

the rain is so lovely and loud anyone else in love with thunderstorms

[serenanymph]

nine people I'd like to get to know better

thanks for the tag, @mister-writes! gonna tag uhhh @writingamongther0ses, @faytelumos, @halfbit, @digitalsatyr23, @thatndginger, @aziz-reads, @toribookworm22, @scribbling-stardust and @e-klair (no pressure ofc!!)

last song: baumkuchen end by eve!

fav color: honestly I like most shades of blue but there isn't one that stands out in particular

last tv show/movie: I just started watching the pjo tv series today! I've only watched two eps but it's really good so far

spicy/sweet/savory?: I'd say sweet and savory are pretty evenly tied, but I have a low spice tolerance

relationship status: single

last thing I googled: is this in general or for writing? because the last thing I googled in general was about a game I was downloading, but for writing I think it might've been something about crows. I've been reading a lot about crows recently

[disturbnot]

ten great british pounds to the photoshop wizard who can fix the colouring on my psd god damn i cannot remember how i used to do this all the time

[lucithecrow]

I'm on chapter 50 of "Your majesty, please spare me this time" and honestly I'm coming to like it.

I still hate the dumbest fl, I don't think I'll ever like her. BUT that doesn't mean I don't understand her. Like I get why she's acting the way she is. Like she's really hateful of Rupert for what seems like no reason cause he's just a kid like her but think about Hitler, for example. If you were a victim of Hitlers awful-ness you would probably kill him as a baby, right? Even tho he is so sweet and innocent, he's just a child! You would still want to cause harm upon him bcs he fucked up urs and many others lives in such a horrible way.

I know this is a debate in itself but I think y'all get what I mean, right? It doesn't matter how small and tortured we know Rupert is, we can't help but hate him bcs we have this unreliable narration about how he murdered everyone for no reason. In reality, it could be a perfectly sane reason. I mean in today's standards it's fucked no matter what but back then u could get hung for talking shit soooo, he doesn't seem so bad now does he?

Whenever reading a comic set in the past like this it's important to put urself in the the shoes of someone living then, take a historical standpoint. We will never know if the author was thinking historically or if they're just a murderer but it makes u feel better, yeah? It makes you feel better to think that this is just what it was like. It doesn't mean it was right but it does mean that somethings aren't as bad as you make them seem.

Like in history class the teacher is like "and he was married to his cousin" u always go "ewww wtf" but that was so fucking normal depending on the timeline and the social class of those involved. Take a step back, take several steps back, to the point where you are no longer in 2023 but in the fucking 1900s or smth. Now does it seem so wrong? Not rlly.

Wow I rlly lost track there MY BAD- anyhow, remember the phrase "innocent until proven guilty" we don't know why Rupert killed the people he did (well unless you've read spoilers for some deaths, which I have hehe) sooo he's still a good person until we figure out he's not. This is a standpoint u can take as the READER, of course, but you should be able to understand this standpoint is not nearly as easy to take for (I forget her name omg) umm (ok I went back and read a bit to find her name lmao) Laliette as it is to us. Her, from her view, innocent family died at the hands of a tyrant who killed his family for no reason. Would you forgive him even if he was an innocent child? Yeah no

My bad I just word-vomited whoops but wtv bye

[jellojolteon]

Oh wow I have a um. Backlog in my inbox

[mnty-bubblegmyum]

i legit feel so sick thinking of how quickly your opinion on someone can change

[wildgeesedotpdf]

Well the thing about corpse desecration is that it is almost entirely self-serving. Keeping your boy bestie’s body in your tent after he was killed in battle may be done out of love, but you are denying him a proper burial (<- only matters in cultures where funerals are significant and seen as a necessity for someone to reach peace in an afterlife) to comfort your own grief. He can’t know you love him, he’s dead, so this act of devotion is more an act of possession than any sort of selfless love. But having him is comforting and if you don’t have him then you’re alone and there is nothing left to fuel the rage that defines you. Keeping his body to yourself is the closest thing to loving him you can do because he’s dead and you’re grieving and you can’t bury him yet because you still need him.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

hi Madeline! it’s me ready to annoy you with more javi THOTS

I know that man goes feral seeing you pregnant , especially when you start to show because everyone will know that HE made you that way and that you belong to HIM and it just makes him feel so primal and feral

Cassidy oh my GOD 😩😭 (y'all gotta stop doing this to me (pls actually don't), my baby fever is already so bad and this is not helping 💀) You are 100000% correct and now I can't get this out of my head and what was supposed to be a little drabble has decided to turn into a full blown thing WHOOPS

Insatiable

Summary: Javi thought he couldn't love you anymore than he already did- that was until the two of you found out you were expecting. Now that your baby bump is finally starting to show, Javi can't get enough of you.

Word Count: 3.7k

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Pregnant Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v (listen... she can't get pregnant if she's already pregnant soooooo), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, breeding kink (bc this man will keep you barefoot and pregnant as long as you let him), creampie, Javi is literally obsessed with you and is foaming at the mouth 24/7 watching you carry his baby, Javi is so excited to be a dad, Javi loving his cute lil family so much it makes me wanna vomit

A/N: Me: Damn, I need to write about something other than babies and breeding kinks. Also me: .... No. Don't mind me while I run laps in frantic circles and howl at the moon thinking about this because good lord, you know this man's breeding kink is an unstoppable force of nature

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing."

"Well that look on your face definitely doesn't say nothing, Jav."

You couldn't help but giggle at the way Javi's eyes had been glued to you from the moment he had entered the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest and hip resting against the counter, admiring you like some sort of breathtaking piece of art as you worked on finishing up dinner.

Because truth be told, to him, that's what you were. Javi had no problem making it very clear to you that he was convinced you were the most beautiful woman to ever walk the face of this earth- beauty not just in the way that you appeared, but a beauty that came deep within your soul that had changed him in a way he would have never thought possible. A beauty that had given him a life he swore he would never deserve- that someway, somehow, you had wanted to spend the rest of your life loving him.

Even after over a year together, a new house, and a ring on your finger, Javi found himself falling harder and harder for you with every passing day. He was honestly convinced it was physically impossible to love you any more than he already did.

That was until four months ago, when the two of you found out that your love would no longer be spread between just the two of you- In a few months from now, it was soon going to be the three of you.

After watching you grow and carry his baby the past four months, Javi learned that despite all odds, he could love you more that he already thought possible.

"Your face says 'I'm thinking very dirty thoughts about my wife' or 'I'm really focusing on trying to hold in a fart' and if the second one's the case, I don't think it's very fair you still get to look that hot while you fart". You smirked, raising an eyebrow at Javi, reaching next to him to grab the dish towel you had been using to wipe your hands before mirroring his stance against the countertop.

"Luckily for you, it's not number two." Javi huffed, rolling his eyes at you before his gaze traveled down to your stomach.

Over the past few days, you had finally reached the point where you were starting to look pregnant, and not just like you had eaten 7 Thanksgiving dinners (as you lovingly liked to coin it). Your bump was now beginning to protrude out of your tighter fitting shirts, excited to see your belly starting to grow, giving your hand a new place to rest on top of the subtle curve, making you grin every time you placed it there.

You had also discovered that not only was Javi just excited about your adorable bump, your husband was ecstatic about it. Your pregnancy was now no longer the hardest secret he'd ever had to keep for the first 12 weeks of your baby's life, it was now an opportunity boast about the fact that you were his beautiful, pregnant wife, and that you and that baby were his.

At this point, there probably wasn't a soul in Laredo that didn't know you were pregnant, because everywhere Javi went, it was a chance to let anyone and everyone know he was going to be a dad, and you were the one carrying his baby.

"Hey, I have to leave our meeting early today because my wife has an ultrasound today for our baby."

"I know peanut butter and pickles is a weird combination, but my wife is pregnant, and what the baby wants, the baby gets."

"Just wanted to get the truck checked out since my wife and I have the baby to drive around in a few months."

And while maybe it was overkill, he just couldn't help it. There was something about becoming a dad, seeing you pregnant, knowing that he was the other half of your baby growing inside you that drove him absolutely feral.

If that gold, diamond band wrapped around your finger wasn't enough to prove that you were his, the baby he had put in your now barley bulging belly sure as fuck was.

Javi reached out his hand, fingers splayed across your stomach with an undeniable smile spread across his face as you rested your palm over his grasp, the two of you staring down stomach.

"Watchya thinkin' about, Jav?" You teased, speaking on behalf of both you and baby Peña as Javi stared at both his and your hands covering your bump, silently admiring the simple moment you were sharing.

"Can you believe we fucking made this?" Javi laughed quietly to himself, still in shock every time he really thought about how he was going to be a father. "That we're actually gonna have a baby?"

"Actually, I can, considering we were both there, and it was very fun." You giggled, lacing your fingers between Javi's and bringing his hand up to your mouth to plant a soft kiss on it, "It's crazy, Javi. I can't believe we're actually gonna be parents."

"Yeah? Fun, huh?" Javi smirked, bringing his other arm to wrap around your waist, fingers beginning to dig into your hips as he pulled you closer.

"Out of all the things I enjoy doing with you, Javier Peña, making babies is very high on that list."

Biting down on your lip, you leaned further into Javi's touch, your bump barley getting in the way of being chest to chest as he craned his neck down, engulfing your mouth in an electric kiss that had you feeling like you were floating.

"Fuck- I'd make 100 babies with you, Hermosa." Javi groaned, feeling the growing bulge in his pants starting to press against your thigh in between kisses.

"100?! Jesus, Jav, are we planning on running a circus?" You laughed, Javi too wrapped up in the thought of you carrying another one of his babies to even process your joke.

"I don't fuckin' care. I'll give you as many babies as you wanna have. You're so fucking sexy being pregnant."

Without your lips ever parting, Javi swung you around so that your back was pressed against the counter, caging your body under his before letting his kisses travel down your neck and collarbone, across your chest and south towards your stomach, until he was dropping to his knees in front of you.

"Javi, I've spent the past three months eating nothing but Hot Cheetos and pickles and complaining about how I need to throw up every thirty seconds, last time I checked, that's about as far from sexy as you can get." You tried your best to muster out some sort of laughter, but with the way that Javi was kissing you, letting his hands roam up to the waistband of your shorts, slowly beginning to tug your bottoms off your hips until you were in nothing but your underwear, Javi was making it very difficult to play into your joke.

Not that you were complaining.

"Nuh uh," Javi hummed, gently tracing his fingers over your covered folds, arousal seeping from your core into the dampening cotton, "Do you know how fucking sexy it is seeing you carry our baby? Knowing that you let me get you pregnant? Grow our kid and give us a family? Baby, if that's not the fucking sexiest thing I've ever heard, then I don't know what the fuck is."

Rubbing and forth, the pads of Javi's fingers applied more pressure to your clit, making you let out a whimper as he finally tended to the throbbing ache that had been rapidly building between your legs. At this point, your underwear was clinging to the outline of your cunt, swollen and puffy with anticipation as your slick soaked the fabric.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me already, baby girl." Javi tutted, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your panties and shuffling them down your legs, revealing the shiny mess smeared between your thighs from your weeping hole.

Scooting himself closer, Javi hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, wrapping his arm around your thigh to hold it in place and keep you balanced. His fingers slid through your folds, parting them with a V of his fingers to softly kiss your clit, big brown eyes looking up at you, pooling with lust as he watched you writhe under his touch.

"F-fuck, Javi, oh my god." You whined, noticing the shift in how your changing body and hormones made you even more responsive to Javi's touch, your pussy already beginning to clench around nothing with the way your stomach was swirling with arousal. "Please, baby, fuck."

"Please, what, Hermosa?" Javi smirked, peppering more soft kisses to your sensitive nub, knowingly driving you wild.

"T-touch me, baby, please. Please, don't fucking tease me, I just- Fuck-"

Before you could finish your plea, Javi had his head buried between your thighs, lapping you up like a man lost in the desert, finally finding his oasis. Long, flat strokes of his tongue swiped against your clit, already working at an unforgiving pace, ready to make you fall apart for him over and over.

Your hand shot down, digging your fingers through the thick, brown locks of Javi's hair, trying to find any way to brace yourself as an all too familiar tingle began to build in your spine as your sensitive bundle of nerves throbbed against his tongue.

You were convinced there wasn't a man on the face of this earth who loved eating you out more than Javi, riding a serotonin high every time he settled his mouth between your parted legs, worshiping your pussy until it wept for him like a dam finally breaking its seal and flooding him with your slick.

As if you weren't close enough already, Javi slid two of his fingers into your entrance bumping up perfectly against the sweet spot inside you, curling just enough to send you moments away from spiraling.

Without faltering his pace, Javi's lips latched around your clit, sucking intensely while his fingers pulsed at the perfect rhythm, feeling your pussy flutter around him.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck!" You threw your head back, orgasm rushing through you forcing your cunt to clamp down around Javi's fingers, slick gushing around them. Javi's strong grip held your legs in place, trembling with pleasure as you came, letting you catch your breath as your chest heaved while you came down from your high.

Javi placed a soft kiss on your sensitive clit before tossing your legs off his shoulders to stand, hands cupping your jaw to lock your lips in a passionate kiss, the tangy taste of you still fresh on his tongue.

"Turn around, mi amor." Javi cooed, gently letting his hands down your body, running over the swell of your stomach until he reached your hips, guiding you to face the edge of the counter until your forearms were resting on the ledge, bare ass pressed against the bulge straining against the denim of his jeans.

You craned your neck over your shoulder to see Javi frantically working at his belt, metal quietly clanging until a swift tug had his pants and boxers pooled around his ankles. You let out an audible moan as you felt his tip swipe through your folds, collecting your arousal to coat his cock, stroking himself with the mix of your slick and his precum.

"Fuck, you're so perfect," Javi whispered, pressing a kiss onto your shoulder and trailing the pecks of his lips up your back and neck, "So fucking beautiful carrying our baby." One of your hands shot back, grabbing at Javi's waist to brace yourself as he pushed into your heat, shaft filling you up inch by inch until he had bottomed out, hips flushed with your ass.

The sweet stretch and sting of Javi's length had you reeling, your sensitivity from your last orgasm on top of the already increased sensitivity from new waves of hormones, jaw going slack at the sensation of his fullness, greedily pushing your ass back into him to take as much as you could.

"Move, baby, fuck- please," You whimpered, bracing yourself against the counter, grinding your bottom half into his hips to do anything to ease your ache, "Javi, fuck me baby, please, I- oh fuck-"

Before you could finish your plea, Javi was beginning to pound into you at an already punishing pace, punching into you g-spot in a way that made your eyes nearly roll in the back of your head.

"You want me to fuck you, Momma? I'll fuck you, hermosa. Whatever you want, baby, you know I'll give it to you." Javi smirked, fingers digging into the curve of where your hips meet the meat of your ass, thrusting into you with thick drags of his cock, intoxicated by the warmth and wetness of your velvety walls.

Releasing the grip of one of his hands, he wrapped it around your front, splayed as it slid down the curve of your belly to reach between your legs, rubbing firm circles into your clit.

You couldn't help but buck back into him, feeling your stomach swirl with arousal and anticipation of your impending orgasm beginning to build, the combination of the snap of Javi's hips and pressure against your sensitive nub making you feel like you were melting under his touch.

"Fuck, Javi- Fuck, oh my god. Fuck, you feel so good. Oh shit- don't stop, baby." You moaned, feeling your pussy starting to flutter around his cock as he continued to fuck into you, your borderline incoherent babbling only egging him on more as his thrusts became faster.

"I won't stop, pretty girl. I won't stop until I fuck you so full of me, you'll be dripping out of me for days. Fuck- I won't stop until give you as many fucking babies as you want." Javi grunted, gritting his teeth as he rammed into you, feeling the knot beginning to tighten in his own stomach at the thought alone of being able to get you pregnant again.

With his one hand still rubbing your clit, his other arm scooped around your front, pulling you from resting your weight on your forearms against the counter to have you stand up straight, your back flushed against his chest. With you pressed against him, Javi couldn't help but suck and nip at your pulse point, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he pulled you in closer, holding you steady while your body began to tremble on the brink collapse.

"I know you're close, baby. It's alright, mi amor, I've got you. Wanna feel you soak me. Cum all over my cock before I fill you up." Javi groaned, his words hot against your skin between kisses along your neck and shoulder blade, shifting his grasp to cup one of your swollen breasts in his palm, fingers gently toying with the hardened buds of your nipples.

The added sensation was all it took to send you over the edge, orgasm crashing through your body with an unforgiving wave of intensity, pleasure radiating through every inch of you as your cunt clamped down around Javi's cock, gushing with your arousal as you came.

Knowing you had reached your end, Javi began to chase his own high, his thrusts becoming sloppier and more erratic as your body melded with his, nearly going limp in his grasp from how good he had made you feel.

"That's my girl. Fuck, I can't wait to get you pregnant again, let everyone see how you're all mine carrying our baby. Gonna be such a good Mom, giving us a family, making me a dad. Oh fuck- I love you so much. So fucking much. Te am- ahhhhhh, fuck!"

Before he could finish his thought, Javi was spilling inside you, the hot ropes of his spend coating your walls, a low groan humming deep in his chest as he filled you with every last drop he had to give. Javi's body slumped into yours, his head resting on your shoulder as both of your chests rose and fell with heavy breaths, hearts racing in sync as you came down from your highs.

Carefully slipping his softening cock out of your heat, you could feel the mix of your spend smearing between your thighs and dripping down your legs as Javi grabbed your waist, turning you to face him so your mouths could meet in a still messy dance of tongues and teeth.

"Holy fuck..." You huffed, finally managing to get a word out through your breathlessness and giggles, looking up at Javi, blissed out grins stretched across both your faces.

"Holy fuck..." Javi parroted, the two of you happily giggling half naked in your kitchen, the both of you staring down at your stomach as Javi rested his hands to cradle your bump.

"This one's not even here yet, and you're already thinking about number two?" You snickered, raising an eyebrow at your husband, gently tracing circles with his thumb around your stomach.

"Huh?"

"Don't think I didn't hear what you said. Let's get this one first, then we can think about another one." You teased, giving Javi a little nudge as his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment, sheepishly darting his eyes towards the ground.

"Sorry, I- I just, God, something about you being pregnant- drives me fucking crazy. I love both of you so fucking much, I swear." Javi sighed, soft smile spread between his cheeks, eyes glancing back and forth between your bump and equally happy grin stretched across your face.

"We love you too, Javi." Pressing up on your toes, you planted a soft kiss on Javi's cheek, draping your hand across his, resting happily on your stomach. "Listen, if you want baby number two, you gotta help me finish cookin' baby number one. And baby number one is hungry. Do we have anymore sour-"

"Sour gummy worms? I picked some more up on the way home from work yesterday."

"Oh thank God, I was about to go drive to the store pantsless to get some if we didn't. Fuck, I wonder if we still have-"

"Watermelon? Got that and green grapes too, just in case." Javi chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss into your messy hair.

"God, I love you." You beamed, making your way towards the pantry, "You keep this up and we're makin' baby number two on an expedited timeline there, Jav."

"Sour gummy worms and watermelon is all it's gonna take?"

"Like I really needed that much convincing anyways? I told you earlier, making babies with you is one of my favorite things to do. Sour gummy worms and watermelon is just a nice bonus."

Taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @purpleprincess75 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

@purpleprincess75

[sophiebaek]

So I must confess that the only footage of s3 I've seen is actually about 15 minutes of the season finale, and all of my intel of the season has been from mutuals online and video essays. I think the show is keeping Sophie's casting super tight lipped and they wouldn't just slide her in there like that: Pen has always been in the show, Phillip, John, and Micheala have all been formally introduced to us. I think we'll probably get a similar introduction to Sophie like Kate's in s2. If s4 is about Benophie, she's already been casted and they have started filming already! (Even though the odds seem like we're next...they've clowned us before so I won't assume we've got Sophie until it's explicitly stated that's her lol)

At this point, it's pretty safe to accept that the Cowpers are sub-ins for the Reillings; while I don't agree with this choice, from a production stand point this makes sense. They don't have to cast new people and can expand on a family we've known since s1. It would be interesting that Cressida's aunt could play the evil step-mother role and I see that as a possibility! Benedict's story was so refreshing to me because we spent a good majority in the country; Cressida already being there is very convenient. Why would they introduce us to her aunt, a new character like that if they didn't have some bigger role to play oh wait nvm...Uncle Featherington. During the season’s release I was actually thinking about Cressida and how she's been developed. In s1 she was clearly the mean girl that pestered Daphne and bullied Pen, but after s3 we've seen a different side to her. I always thought Cressida would sub in for Rosamond but now I think she's a good contender for Posy 🤯. We understand Cressida a bit more and from reactions, it seems people feel sorry for her based on her familial treatment (very similar to Posy). My crazy theory is that the Cowpers are cousins of the Gunningworths and Cressida will go to the countryside and meets her bastard cousin Sophie, who their aunt treats as a maid...with how much the show has deviated from the books, anything is possible at this point! I think this season we got a lot of hints about the inevitability of Benedict's story (and Sophie's entrance as Jess has stated) but not a clear confirmation of it being next. Yes, we got the masquerade comment but we also got a lot of development from other Bridgertons too. I think the show will give us at least one season with John so Francesca's season may come later (Also I don't think Shondaland and Netflix would gamble renewal with a Francesca season when she's basically a new character compared to Ben and Eloise who are strong fan favorites). With Eloise that's a wildcard...I simply do not know where they are going with her but it is very likely she could meet a certain someone on her way to Scotland and start writing letters to them next season. I did think it was odd we did not see Chris Fulton at all either in s3...he could just be working on Outlander or The Witcher but the show seems to be going out of it's way to include Phillip, so not even hearing of him this season was weird...

I'd say it's about 60% Ben's and 40% Eloise's time next season and my guess for leads are Ben (4), Fran (5), Eloise (6). I'm well aware of the Pall Mall foreshadowing but I think at this point JB does what she wants to do.

Wait... I just had a thought...

Care for some Sophie Beckett speculation?

I've seen some posts on Threads where people are speculating that the maid we get a glimpse of at the Cowper residence - the who Cressida asks for help from - might be Sophie. I couldn't remember who they were talking about, so I'm currently rewatching episodes 7 & 8. (Episode 7 is where we see the maid.)

And not to quash anyone's theories, because this truly is all just speculation, but the maid's performance just doesn't scream Sophie to me. In my mind I'd expect more timidness, stiffer, stilted speech, a more unhappy look on her face, and possibly a gaunt countenance. Maybe even fear or wariness the second Cressida asked her for help. Idk, I just don't think that was her.

BUT! Now I'm on epsiode 8, and just got to the part where we meet the Aunt come to take Cressida away to the countryside. And simply by her tone, remarks, and countenance we know this woman is a BITCH. Cressida's mother (remember, who is named Araminta) even remarks that she forgot how horrible a woman this aunt is. SO, what if the "Araminta from the books" character is kind of split into two: Araminta Cowper & this Aunt.

Sophie is still a bastard, Lord Cowper is her father, and he's pawned her off on his sister - the Aunt - to live out in the country where he doesn't have to deal/see her. Both Araminta & the Aunt know who Sophie really is and both hate her, but we need someone doling out some truly horrible treatment and that could fit the Aunt's personality.

This also gives Cressida more storyline, because truthfully I wasn't sure how they were going to bring Cressida back in after this season. BUT having Sophie at the Aunt's house gives Cressida plot out in the country that can also loop in Benedict & the Bridgerton's since this is obviously their stories. And as we all know, there is Benedict/Sophie plot out involving the countryside, so that helps too.

Idk, this all literally just popped into my head and now I'm word-vomiting it here. Anyone else see the plausibility? Thoughts?

Tagging some people, but anyone is free to comment! >> @silverhallow @tilly-tilly-2827 @sophiamariabeckett @queen-of-the-misfit-toys

[arbitrarygreay]

I'm back on my "defending Alder" bullshit, but to be fair, the show is on my side! Eliot says in After The Storm 2x6 that he retains empathy for Alder's decision making, that he is still Team Alder. That bears out in the writing for the show, in that we see all of the characters basically concede all of the points Alder made to justify herself. (And let's not even get into the potential consent ethics around the Mycelium making everyone witches. We'll allow that feel-good hand-wave.) Obviously, the most important characters to consider on who compromised are Tally, Petra, and Anacostia, the characters who had the most stake in condemning Alder's actions. Khalida, too, but her turn is already quite obvious. Tally, of course, made the call to kill Penelope, and then embraced receiving training from Nicte. Don't quite remember if she was present for Scylla controlling people with crows, but everyone else just accepted it, so I don't see her suddenly finding that a crossed line. Of the three, she does the least to concede Alder's points, but she's also quite far from being a part of military authority for most of the season, so. Anacostia murders Vira for Pushing Sterling, and then uses (Spree-specific!) Pushing herself to have the Camarilla surgeons murder each other. The only Spree tech Anacostia doesn't eventually use is the delayed-charge bottle/balloon burst. Petra, meanwhile, is subject to that old TV chestnut of "fuck Civilian Oversight" (second only to "we love prosecution attorneys, defense lawyers are scum"), and Petra doesn't even have the excuse of immediately necessary self-defense that Anacostia had. Preceding that, Petra had to sacrifice the conscripts in order to delay the Cession invasion (which, sidebar, mirrors the Battle of Juarez, where Jem Bellweather led a "disastrous" cover charge to give the Swythes time to create a storm). Not to mention that the show kind of hand-waves Willa's complaints against Petra's leadership in the field, though perhaps Petra's "they're killing my soldiers" moment in S3 was meant to be a contrast in attitude to that past. This all goes back to that campfire conversation in 1x10.

Tally: How are we any different from the Spree if we just puppet whoever gets in the way? Alder: Taking the body and will and voice of another is a violation. It is against our code. But I had no choice. If you knew what was at stake, you'd understand.

When we slice away the actions that everyone eventually shared with Alder, only a few unique transgressions remain: 1) The Liberian Martyrdom. Balanced by their kid-gloving of Nicte and Scylla having done way more of it. 2) Alder's puppeting and pushing of Wade. What differentiates this from the cases above is that Alder did it to a nominal ally, not an established enemy, in reaction to the threat of retirement, and against The Spree instead of the Camarilla. Alder's true sin is that she kept going it alone. We see what she could have done instead through how Wade is treated in S3. In 2x10, Petra was actually following Alder's footsteps in trying to intimidate Wade. That relationship was by no means destined to be productive. However, in S3, Petra invites other people to the table. She states that she would bow to Anacostia serving as her conscience. Then, she has M build an honest relationship with Wade, keeping Wade in the loop of information. And most importantly, Minerva speaks of how they got over themselves and the power-jockeying games to find common ground, instead of holding onto that military-civilian divide, which Alder could never let go of. Petra's growth over the course of the show is mirrored in her relationship with Abigail. It may well be the case that if she had pulled off the coup in S1, she wouldn't have done any better, still trying to be controlling to the expectations she had for herself and others, the "her high haughtiness" that Willa loathed. By later S2, Petra has become much more sensitive to the personal over the abstract, allowing her to decide that she would fight alongside Nicte, and then let her go on the run. But still. Petra's murder of Colonel Jarret is quite a blurry line from puppeting Wade. Just who gets to decide who is the enemy of the nation, foreign or domestic? It's really easy to interpret Wade's actions in S1 to be what Jarret did in that office. Tying her hands, threatening her power. Having the audacity to ask that there be some accountability to non-witches. If the Camarilla didn't have protections for Silver, should they have just permanently puppeted the man?

[carmenized-onions]

Do the Thing! | Toilet Repair

logline; Today's itinerary: Fix the toilet, catch up with Syd, try not to cry when everyone asks you where you've been.

series history; Previous Chapter

portion; 7.1k+ (this shit got away from me man, idk what to say)

possible allergies; Negative self-talk (It's the Bear, babe, everyone's sad). I did no research on plumbing and am truly making it the fuck up-- I know for a fact I'm not using any word correctly and I simply will not be fixing it. Reader eats meat!! Specifically pork!! Your 'name' is 100% just Tony now.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'handywoman' and 'Miss' are said. Plus a chest reference).

you ever start writing and you just cannot seem to find an end so you keep going forever? yeah.

“I think my name is just Tony now.”

You sip your overpriced orange juice. You really have to fucking savour it, now a days. That’s like 25 cents a sip, and Syd’s treating you to this breakfast outing, so it’s not even your own wallet on the line here.

“You lose all sense of identity, in a restaurant.” Syd straightens her back, mocking her very own mechanical movements of whenever she steps in a kitchen. “I am Chef.”

This diner isn’t more than two blocks down from The Bear. It was probably your second favourite spot in this neighbourhood. Probably still is. Sitting in the back corner booth (your favourite) with Syd is nice but distracting. She’s been updating you on everything since the catering scene and her botched credit, and you’re absorbing all of it, you swear, it’s just hard to not remember why this was your favourite booth.

Not because it’s seats are the least worn in, not because it’s got the right amount of sun through the window without blinding you, but because of the company you kept here. You’re trying to not notice your own name carved into the table. Especially since it’s not your handiwork.

You laugh at Syd’s joke on time, thank God. No awkward pause. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are. Head, right?”

She nods. “It’s cool. It’s like, vomit-worthy stressful but also…”

“You wish you were dead when you’re there, but you’d rather be dead than do anything else?”

“Yessir.” She nods again, digging further into her pancakes. “I really fucking owe you, by the way.”

“You’re paying me off through breakfast.” You wave her off. “Plus, I was available and it was like maaayybe 5 minutes of manual labour, it’s nothing.”

“Y’know what?” She hums, “I think actually, you owe me.”

“Yeah?” You grin.” Please, let me clear my debts, Syd?”

She smiles, pointing her fork at you. “You owe me the fuckin’ Beef background I’ve apparently not unlocked. Everyone was talking about you after.”

“Good things?”

“Vague things. Shit made me even more curious.”

You laugh. No shit they’d be vague. What can they say? “When my dad was running the repairmen gig, Cicero or Fak would call him in—”

“Oh fuck.” She snaps her fingers, seemingly in realization. “Your dad’s the connection!”

“The connection?”

“Fak said he had a connection for our fire safety test shit, and then said he didn’t—”

“Ah.” You nod knowingly. “Dad cut the cord on his business phone when it transferred to me, didn’t really keep people updated. Whoops.”

She nods, taking another bite of her pancakes, speaking mid-chew. “You could’ve saved our asses way faster, and I’ll-I'll never forgive you, but continue.”

Snickering, you continue, “Well, they’d call my dad in, and then my dad would call me in as his like, like his fuckin’ Sous of Repairs. And shit broke all the time at the Beef, as I’m sure you’re well aware, so I hung out around Mikey and everyone a lot.”

“Ah. N’ then…”

“He fuckin’ died.” You laugh, because there’s no way to say it smooth, so you might as well say it bad. You stretch out your arms and lean back in the booth. “I kinda took a step back, after that, so we didn’t manage to crossover ‘til now. S’ironic that you’re the one that brought me back instead of an oldie, honestly.”

She desperately wants to ask more about Mike, but she can tell now is not the time, so she just lets it lie and moves on. “You stopped being an EMT to take up the handyman shit, then?”

“Yessir.” You nod, finishing your straggling home fries. “Just kinda made sense to trade off, and I didn’t want to see the family bizz die. Do I have to occasionally pick up shifts bartending to make rent during slow months? Yes. But I also don’t watch people die anymore, so that’s a win.”

“In a way, you’re watching people die still, just slowly.”

You bite down hard to stifle any semblance of a smile or laughter, deadpanning, just to see her squirm in awkwardness for a moment. It works with flying colours, of course it does. It’s Syd. She’s still Syd. You speak at the same time.

“Cause of the alcohol?” “Cause—Cause of the alcohol.”

You both break into laughter, she throws her napkin at you. “Can’t stand you, oh my god. Let’s go clock in.”

She pays your bill before you can try to sneak your card in, which feels all too familiar, and you’re off.

Off to fix an exploded toilet.

“How the fuck do you fix an exploded toilet?”

Your hands rub over your face, lifting your safety goggles for a second. Too fucking foggy. Too fucking sweaty. Plumbing never really was your biggest strength. You’re staring at the bane of your existence, and it’s the latrine. How far we fall.

“You good, Cousin?” You hear from behind. You don’t need to turn to know it’s Richie in the doorway. It’s a fair question, you’re sitting criss-cross in front of a toilet, head in hands.

“Yeah, Cousin, I’m good.” Your words are muffled by your hands. Fully not cousins. For the record. You would argue you're not even that close, but he'd slap you upside the head. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Can you like, get me a pen and note pad? I need to like, strategize an attack.”

“It’s not that bad, Cousin—” “It’s that bad.” “Just tape the—” “Fuck off with the tape!”

You click your teeth, staring at the gurgling porcelain before you— At least it’s clean, it’s just fucked. “I shut the valve and it didn’t do shit. I think I have to remove it entirely so I can see what’s going on with the underground pipe.”

“Heard.” Richie and you both know that his hotfix handiwork has absolutely contributed to this penultimate mess you’re in now, but you’re both letting that go quietly for now. “You charge by hour or service?”

“Service flat rate and then after two hours it’s by hour.”

He hums, knocking his fist on the doorway a few times before walking away. “Pen and pad, Chef.”

“Not a Chef!”

“Term of Respect, Chef!”

You tap your leg incessantly, groaning like you’ve got an 80-year-old body as you stand to your feet. Richie’s grown a lot. He wears suits now. Hasn’t even poked at you for vanishing. Though you have a feeling it’s coming. If not from him, from someone.

You step out into the hall, leaned against the wall with your arms crossed as you wait for your pen and pad. And now you just have more time and a better view to take in how much has changed.

Gutted. A few walls gone. Makes sense, you told Mikey he was getting a mold problem. He never listened. Seats are new. The booths are the all-around style ones now. Ritzy. It’s too good for this neighbourhood. Is that a good thing? Yeah, right? Despite the fact that The Bear should feel out of place, you feel out of place being in it. Could you afford to eat here? Could the people who work here afford to eat here? Syd said she’s not getting paid for the next few months, so at the very least, the Head Chef can’t.

“Strange?” Tina sidles up to you on the wall, wiping her hands on her apron. Completely knocking you out of your dissociative fugue state.

“Yeah.” You nod, a little too quickly, that felt judgey, you correct, uncrossing your arms. “It’s daunting, I think; to see it all at once rather than slowly built in. Like, I know objectively this is very cool, but—”

Tina hums with understanding. “Feels gutted?”

“Was gutted.” You nod. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it, it’s just, I dunno. Adjustment period, all that.”

“I needed a second too, but Jeff is good. Change has been good.” You nod like you know who Jeff is. “Carmen, I mean.” Your nod is now significantly more understanding. She smiles, you’re a little surprised to see Tina’s got a lot more insight than she used to. She pulled the thought of Carmen right out of your subconscious before you even detected it for yourself. “He’s good. You’ll see.”

You nod. You know the good she means is not Michelin Star Good. You already know that. He’s Mikey good. Person good. You clear your throat. “How’s Louis?”

“Good. Y’know, he’s getting to that age, getting in trouble. S’been a while since he’s had a good influence.” She nudges you. There it is. There’s the poke. The ‘where have you been?’ The ‘it’s been a year’. The— “Y���know, Chef didn’t come to the funeral neither.”

That one you didn’t expect, your head swivels to her hard. “Carmen didn’t go?”

His brother didn’t go? Oh, who the fuck are you to judge...

She nods, practically with her whole body, she looks more amused than anything. But like, mom amused. The worst amused. “You’re both the sensitive type.”

You cock your head at her, raising a brow. Smirking slightly. “Wow, Tina, I thought you changed too but you still talk your shit, eh?”

“I’m not talking shit!” She laughs, hands up in defence. “I’m just saying, you’re alike.” You hope that the laughter makes her forget the topic but it doesn’t.

“Where have you been?” She softens. She’s not asking to be mean, she’s asking out of concern. Why does that make it feel worse?

You tuck your hands in your pockets and retrain your eyes on hers, even if it feels bad. “Thought time and distance would heal all wounds.”

“Did they?”

Before you can answer, “Pen delivery, cousin!” Richie returns, triumphantly, with a pen and pad held high in the sky. He makes you jump for it. You elbow him in the gut, not hard. “Fuck off, Rich…” He keels over enough for you to grab it. “Thank you, chef.”

You turn back to Tina, who you now realize has spent half her smoke break on you. She nods to you, and then the bathroom door. “I’ll let you get back to it.” You nod in return. When she turns to walk away, you grab her shoulder.

“Tina.” She turns again. You should say something. Something vulnerable and thankful. Words of affirmation are not your thing. But maybe they could be, “If you end up with a dead plate—” Or maybe not.

She grins, and part of you is concerned by this, but she waves you off, giggling like she knows something you don’t. Already walking off. “You’re gonna be taken care of, Terry, don’t worry.”

This is a bad new nickname scheme. The fridge guy is just gonna end up being called ‘fridge guy’ if you take all his names.

It’s maybe three hours later. 11 am ish. You’ve finally put the toilet back in place, the pipes fixed underground— Which is a huge win of progress, the problem is, it’s just seemed to open the toilet’s ability to have other problems that need to be addressed. There’s a strong chance you’ll be here until you die. And even after that, this stupid toilet will still be gurgling, outliving you.

But you seriously have to eat something, so you scrub yourself clean, set your safety equipment down, and head out of the bathroom for a much-needed stretch of the legs— And to hopefully get a plate from Tina.

On your way to the kitchen, you’re stopped and walked backwards to a booth in the corner by Richie. “Hey, Miss, happy to serve you today, my name’s Richard but you can call me Richie, how’re you doin’ this fine morning?”

They’ve yet to open front of house, so you play along, taking your seat with a laugh. “I’m doing perfect, Richie, how are you?”

He nudges the air . “Ey, better now that you’re here, ah? Can I get a drink started for you?”

“Really gonna practice your set on me?”

He shrugs, still smiling. “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”

You hum, then rub your temples, the headache is setting in— Not cause of him, just been a tough morning. “Just your coldest fuckin’ glass of water, Rich.”

“Right away, Cousin.” He slips off into the kitchen.

When the door swings open again, it’s not Richie coming with your ice water, but Carmen— It’s your first time seeing him since the walk-in. When you came in this morning with Syd, it was Nat that gave you the quick briefing on the schedule and goals for today.

“Tony.” He hums, corners of his mouth just slightly upturned. The nickname has stuck. Goddamn. He sets the water down in front of you, along with a plate— Covered by a cloche—Or the silver lid thing, whatever.

“Carmy.” You only mean to mimic his tone, but then cringe. “Is Carmy fine?”

He pauses mid slide into the booth, sitting across from you. He seemed all cool and collected and is now suddenly extremely caught off guard. Already sweaty. “Y-yeah, I’m better, thank you—”

“No, I meant—” It is so difficult to hold back laughter. You deserve an Oscar.

You’re not doing great to be fair but like, still, Oscar worthy attempt.

“I meant like, like is the nickname okay?”

The horrors just keep piling on his face, and you can’t help but feel guilty. No shit he feels like he’s starting on a lower playing field here. You knew his dead brother, you know his Head Chef, your first time meeting him was at quite possibly his lowest moment and biggest mistake— Of which you had to coax him out of, and now he’s misunderstanding every innocent question you have for a inquiry into his psyche.

He clears his throat for objectively too long of a time. “Carmy is fine. Tony is fine?”

“I’m doing okay, yeah.”

Thank God, he laughs, awkward sure but objectively amused.

You nod down to the covered plate, smiling, “Fuck is this?”

He leans forward in his seat to get a hand over the lid. “I, uh. Made you a thing. As thanks or like, an— an apology.”

Ah. That’s why Tina was laughing about you getting taken care of.

He lifts the lid, and what is revealed, if you weren’t careful, would be enough to make you cry. Thankfully, the shock registers as uproarious laughter, one that Carmen cannot help but join.

“What the fuck?”

Pork brisket sandwich. Something that Mikey made for you, specifically. Because you said one time you were more of a pork fan than beef and he absolutely lost it. In a cute way, though. Said ‘Oh, I’ll make you fuckin’ pork, alright?’ You’re not sure if he won or lost the argument, because you did find it better.

“I, uh, we had some cuts left over that we weren’t gonna be able to fuckin’ use, and uh, Tina showed me this, this recipe card, last night.” He slides over the very same brisket recipe Mikey had written down. Little doodles of angry faces and Xs over pigs in the margins.

“He was so fuckin’ mad.” You snort, looking at it. “All I fuckin’ said was I had a preference!”

“In The Beef!”

“He asked!” You quickly defend, through laughter. “And it tastes fucking good. All he did was prove my fuckin’ point— And spent hours doing it. Were you here overnight for this, slowcooking?”

He shakes his head, though there’s a hesitation in it— So you’re not privy to completely believe him. He sniffs, swiping at his nose “I, uh, just came in early. Had to fix some shit anyways.”

He’s staring at the sandwich, then occasionally you, expectantly. You look at him with equal expectance.

“Well?” You start.

“Well?” He astutely adds.

You nod down at the dish. “Do the thing.”

“The thing?”

You pick up one half of the sandwich, but you’ve got no plans of eating until he satisfies this craving first.

“The thing Syd does where she explains why she’s proud of her dish and why I should care. I know it’s Mikey’s, but you clearly made changes.”

“Oh. Uh…” He was both expecting and not expecting this soap box. “So, followed the rub to a T— Well, with a salt bed, this time. Put it on brioche instead of the old shit. And I uh, added uhm—” He snaps his fingers, staring at the sandwich in your hand. “Added pickled red onion, for acid and sweet, and garlic confit. I’m—I’m happy with my spin on it.”

You whistle as a form of praise, he flushes with a glow of pride and is desperately trying to not show it. He’s proud because it’s curated, personal. Ah, he is Mikey good. You nod and take a bite, trying to control your reaction. Worst part about having Artists as friends (especially chefs): They fucking stare so hard when you’re taking in their work. And they’re over analyzing every micro expression. He’s no different.

Fuck. It’s fucking good. Is it bad that it’s better than anything Mikey ever made? Nah, that’s how he’d want it.

“Ah fuck, that sucks—” Is the first thing you say, and his face falls, “Expensive food is worth it.” Right back up. Easy to please. “It’s really good, Chef. Thank you. Did you try it yet?”

He shakes his head, so you push the plate with the other half of the sandwich— It’s brisket, anyways. You’ll be full by the end of this one. Portions generous. He looks momentarily hesitant, which is cute, but inevitably leans forward and takes the sandwich. He nods with each chew.

He hums when he finishes chewing, pointing emphatically at you, though his voice is neutral. “You don’t like something, though.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with it?” He stares at into the cross section of his bite. “Chewy? Texture?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” You’re quick to deny.

He shakes his head, hand over his mouth to hide the sauce on his mouth. “M’not gonna be hurt.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the dish, Carmen.” You take another bite to prove your point. Also you’re hungry. Two things can be true.

He zones in on the emphasis immediately. “It’s the plate, isn’t it? I told Syd—”

“Your tables aren’t bolted.” You interrupt, swiftly. Mouth semi-full.

“Huh?”

You put your sandwich down and swallow, taking your time with it. “Your booth tables.”

You knock on the pristine wood with the joints of your left hand. You swivel your body to look under the table, he follows suit, meeting you there. His left leg has been violently shaking, but he’s thought you wouldn’t notice it until now.

You put a hand on his knee to stop the shaking. He bristles, slightly, but you’re not even doing it on purpose. Your focus isn’t on him. It was making the table imperceptibly shift— Which, of course, you clocked. You tap your foot to the bottom of the table leg. No screws. “They aren’t bolted down.”

You lift yourself back up, moving your hand back to yourself in tandem. He stares at it for a little longer. How you noticed that, he will never know. Repairmen are a different breed…

“I just thought it was a weird choice. Nothing wrong with it, per say. Maybe you wanna test different layouts.” You shrug, taking another bite.

“The booths aren’t bolted either.” He adds, lifting his head up above the table, finally. “I don’t— we’re not gonna fuck with the layout, I don’t think.”

“Should get Fak on that, then.”

“Fak’s big-timing us.” You cock your brow, mid chew. He explains. “He’s focusing on hosting, f'now.”

You nod, swallowing, hand in front of your mouth so you can lick the sauce off your upper lip in non-humiliated peace. “This another job for me, then?”

“If you’ll take it.”

“If your fuckin’ toilet doesn’t kill me, I will.”

“How’s that going?”

You shake your hand so-so. “Ask me in two to three hours how it’s going.”

“Heard.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth. The stress is too apparent not to ask.

“How’s the second day open going?”

“I’m not in a fuckin’ freezer, so that’s a win.” Oh-ho, he’s acknowledging it. You were very comfortable forgetting that moment for his sake. “Thanks, uh, f’ that.”

You shake your head, shrugging off the thanks. You lift your last few bites of the sandwich to him. “You’re good. You’ve gifted me brisket. You relax since?”

“Not really.” He replies bluntly, taking a deep inhale. He pulls at his face from the top down, with both hands. Oof. Bad sign. “I think I’ll be good by tomorrow. Gonna get off early, tonight.”

“You don’t seem happy about that.”

“Ask me in two t’ three days if I’m happy about it.”

Back to work and this is taking so much fucking longer than it needs to take. Why is there tape there? Fucking Richie. Fucking Fak. Fucking Mikey. Godssake. Pipes are fixed. Water pressure is fixed. What the fuck is still wrong with it? What the fuck is wrong with you? Everyone is going to hate you if you can’t fix this. You’ve been here for like 5 hours and you can’t figure out what’s fucking wrong here? You’re nothing. You’re—

The toilet does you the favour of knocking you out of your episode by spraying you in the fucking face, soaking through the top of your jumpsuit. With a groan, you unzip the upper half and tie the wet sleeves around your waist. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

Maybe you just need a change in task for a second. Also, a new t-shirt, because your tank did not survive the waterworks either. This room isn’t the thing you need right now. You slip down the hall to the kitchen. “Who needs a coffee? Or water?”

There’s a chorus of orders, all of which sound like you’ve just asked ‘who wants a gift from God?’, which, you might as well have. This is what you like about being a handyman. The relief you bring. You just need a smidge of praise to get through the rest of this job. You’ve got this.

The small, but serviceable coffee machine in very back of the kitchen calls your name, but Richie sticks his arm out, blocking you from walking past expo up front.

“Hol’ up, Cousin, you look like a fuckin’ wet dog.”

“Well, what ‘ya gonna do about it?” You retort, despite the retort not honestly making any sense, you put your hands on your hips. “Do you want a fuckin’ coffee or not?”

He rolls his eyes, falling back onto the balls of his feet before walking off. “Ey, Sug, are those shirts still in the basement—”

You’ve won for now. You scrub your hands clean before getting to work. This is good. Oooh, Marcus has fresh coffee beans (that he’s willing to share!)— This is easy. You can already fix most broken things, but a machine that actually fucking works? Baby, you can make that sing.

Plus, the bartending gigs you’ve done don’t make you a barista by any means, but they certainly don’t hurt. Oooh, Marcus has syrups! Fuck it. Steamed and frothed milk. That toilet has you on your ass, you need to go above and beyond here. Make each cup personal. You need a win in the form of admiration.

You gather a tray of coffees (and a water for Sweeps, who is too fucking sweaty for a hot drink right now, so fair), all varying in milks, sugars, syrups, intensity. “Coffee run, I hand ‘em out, don’t just take! Corner!”

Ebra, to no one’s shock, likes his coffee black— But, and he’ll tell no one this, you just know it on instinct— He likes it a little too watery. “Good.” Who are you to judge? He likes what he likes.

Tina would take hers black for simplicity, if you let her, but of course you don’t. 2 sugars, foamed milk, chocolate and cinnamon syrup. “Too good to me.” It’s too worth it, when she says it like that and slaps your cheek. Balm of the soul.

Marcus, who watched you make these, did opt to let his imagination run too wild and added one of every syrup to his own cup, wanting to experiment with you. It doesn’t taste good. You switch it for a spiced coffee when he’s not looking. He’s silently very thankful.

After handing out a few more to the new cooks, you come up to Syd. “Take this one, take this one.” Then whisper, so no one knows you are displaying supreme favouritism. “It’s the one oat milk latte I made.”

She turns to you from her station, then darts looks over her shoulder like she’s making an under the table deal before grabbing it from you. She takes a delighted sip, eyes rolling just slightly in the relief of caffeine, she nods. “Fire, Chef.” Ah. This will get you through the day alone.

It also gets you through the willpower it takes to ignore Fak running by you to steal a coffee off your tray. Out of the corner of your eye, you point to the one meant for him— As if you didn’t make it for him, c’mon…

“How’s bathroom?” Syd asks, taking another long sip.

I’m going to fucking explode, not unlike your drainage pipe. “Needed a thinking break, but I’ve made a lot of progress. How’s kitchen?”

“Made a lot of progress. Auto-piloting through this prep.” She looks down at her cutting board, cracking back to it. “Latte helps, a lot, thank you. You should join for family, if you’re still here for it. Unless you don’t want more brisket.”

Fuck. She doesn’t think you’re so slow that you’re gonna be here until family, does she? “Yeah, maybe.” You look around, three coffees still on the tray. “...Where’s Carmen?”

She grimaces. Uh oh. The tension she glossed over at breakfast is still definitely there. She nods her head to the back door. “Smoke break. Or temper tantrum. I don’t fuckin’ know. Don’t tell him I said that.” You laugh, nodding. “You think a coffee would help—” “Please.”

“Corner!” Yells Richie, returning to you. He silently flicks out a shirt for you, holding it up proudly, ‘THE BERF’ stares back at you. You give it a solid five seconds to process before you say anything.

“Collector’s item...” You nod, tone sarcastically impressed. You pivot your shoulder for him to throw it over, hands too busy.

“That’s what I fuckin’ said!” He throws it over your shoulder. “No one fuckin’ listens, these days.”

You bite back laughter and nod, handing him his coffee. Hot. Dark. Two sugars. And, to his delighted surprise, a touch of cinnamon syrup. “Oh, fuck, missed your twists, Chip.”

You wince at what was a long-forgotten nickname, and so does Richie. Funny how remembering origins can do that to you. He’d just said it so instinctively, really. “My bad—”

“Chip is good.” You interrupt, rolling your shoulders back. And it is good, really. “It’s kinda—It’s kinda comforting.” It’s nice to not forget. He nods, and you give each other the ‘we are still so fucked, eh?’ smile before lovingly bumping shoulders as he returns to expo and you head to the back alley.

Carmen’s squatting, cigarette in one hand, creating a halo of smoke around him, and his phone in the other. He snaps out of his mental fog when the door opens, slipping his phone into the pocket of his apron like he’s got a secret to hide.

You hesitate at the doorway, maybe this is not the moment. “Sorry, Chef, I just wanted to offer a coffee? If you need air alone—”

“No, no, I’m good—” He’s quick to correct, then even quicker to correct himself. “I— I’ll take a coffee, I mean. You can stay, s’fine.”

He reaches for it when you sit next to him, but you pull the tray back to hand him the correct one. “Sorry, I—I like, did a thing, for yours. I dunno how you take your coffee, so I thought I’d do it weird.”

He takes the cup, eying it curiously. “Do it weird?”

“Do it like, like a Chef. Can’t make anything fuckin’ simple. The lot of you.”

He hums, amused, staring at the cup, then looks at you expectantly. “Well?”

“Well?”

“Do the thing.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Oh, fuck off.”

“C’mon, tell me why I should care.” He teases.

“Ah, fuck.” You sniff, oh to have your own words turned on you. Looking at the coffee in his hands, “I figured you’d like strong black coffee, but like, complex. So, it’s got like, cardamom and lavender n’ maple syrup. Shout out Marcus.” He smiles. “And then, I know I did just say black coffee but I wanted the aesthetic so I spooned foamed milk on top and sprinkled on some dried lavender.” You take your own cup in hand, putting the tray down. “If you hate it, we’ll trade.”

He pays close attention to your explanation. Man, his eye contact is simultaneously so soft and so scary. He takes a sip. Let’s it sit in his mouth for a second. “Excellent, Chef.”

Oh, if Syd’s ‘Fire’ could get you through the day, Carmen’s ‘Excellent’ will get you through the week to spare. You hide the way you beam by drinking your own coffee.

“How’re you doing?” It’s far too obvious that he’s had something heavy on his head all day, but you’re not going to say the quiet part loud, yet.

He takes a long time to respond. “I, uh…” And when he does, it’s weak. “I’m alright, yeah. I’m alright.”

You nod repeatedly, digesting the huge lie. “Ask me how I’m doing.”

He squints. “…How’re you—”

“Fuckin’ terrible, Carm.” You cut him off, putting your cup down next to him, standing up. You speak emphatically, gesturing with your whole body.

“I’m at my wits, Chef. Completely out of my depth. I fix the main pipe, I fix the water pressure, I triple check the tank, I fuckin’ power cycle the valve— I’m absolutely at a loss as to why it’s still gurgling— Why it shot water straight at my tits— Close your eyes, if you care, by the way.”

With barely any warning you peel off your tank top, you’ve got a bra, it’s fine. It’s very cute that he still looks away. You slip the new shirt over your head as you speak, muffling the words.

“—I’m wearing a shirt that says Berf, and the only way I can feel any semblance of not being utterly useless is by making coffees so good everyone has to praise me for them. And now I’m telling the fucking owner, my boss for the day all this.”

He nods, slowly. There is perhaps, not a single person in his life that has ever been this forthright. Someone he hasn’t had to over-analyze or dig into to figure out what’s actually going on. It is refreshing, terrifying, and for some reason, removing your walls have completely shattered his.

“So.” You lower your head to his level where he sits. “How are you doing, Chef?”

He takes a long sip of his coffee. Stews on the question before he spills his guts, calmly. “I’m sitting outside of the restaurant I started that I own, and my brother should be here, but he’s not and— And I was locked in a fuckin’ freezer on my opening night, which was my own fuckin’ fault— And the tape is wrong and the painting is stupid and that new hire did meth so now we’re down one.” He takes a deep breath.

“And we have Heinz instead of Frenchies, and it’s fine. That’s the fucked part— It’s fine. The ship did not sink without me— It went fine. Better, maybe. My problems aren’t fuckin’ problems. I’m just making it worse for myself— everyone. And I know Syd is mad at me, and I know my— My girlfriend? Is mad at me, and I know that I’m gonna break up with her tonight because I’m not meant to be— that.” He says the last part fast, more to himself than you, really. And then he finally looks back up at you.

“And I’m telling all of this to the person who saved me from hypothermia and a fuckin’—Fuckin’ meltdown, who probably thinks— knows that I’m a psycho.”

You take a beat before nodding, sitting next to him again, arms crossed. Silent. Contemplative. “I have thoughts.”

He nods, taking a drag. “Don’t pull punches.”

“Well, to start most honestly, we must remember, I love Syd. So, I’m not gonna mince about her.”

“Heard.”

You recall everything Sydney had told you at breakfast. The recap of how she got to this point. “Syd isn’t mad at you, she’s disappointed and distrustful.”

He grimaces. “That sounds worse.”

“It is.”

“Oh.”

“But in a way you can fix.”

“How?”

“Handle shit different. Actually show up to shit and make calls. Manage your priorities by urgency— Not by favourites. If I broke my fuckin’ arm and your ‘girlfriend’ had a runny nose, who are you taking to the hospital?”

“You can’t take yourself?”

“Bitch?”

“Kidding. Heard. What else?”

“You’re not gonna tell her I said this because she would rather die than tell someone she wants something.” You lean closer to him, peeking over your shoulder to make sure no one’s secretly come from the kitchen. You knock into his knees.

He takes another drag, short, choked. “Sure.”

“You were kind of a bitch about the menu.”

“The chaos menu? She said—”

“She fucking lied. She lied when she said it was fine, Carm, it does not take a psychic to read Syd’s mind.” You interrupt, taking a sip of your coffee. “She was so excited to get to build a menu, especially with—” you, “—a partner, and then you completely ditched her. And then you just made your own! Total control freak shit! Cut her out of the fun part of being head chef completely! You get to invent masterpieces and she picks out the best cheap plate? Fuck is that?”

He nods contemplatively, poking his inner cheek. “Yeah, that, that makes sense. That’s shitty.” He turns his gaze from looking ahead to face you, hand over the bottom half of his face. “What else?”

“You’re reactive.”

“No shit.”

“How long do you think you were locked in the walk-in for?”

He swallows, thinking. “Like… an hour?”

“It had been 23 minutes.”

“Oh.”

“You catastrophize, it’s a fancy therapy word,” You cannot help but be impressed by this white man writing down the word in his phone for later. “It means, basically, when something bad happens you blow it completely out of proportion into something it isn’t. Your opening night was definitely a bummer from being in a freezer— But be honest with yourself, would you have let yourself have a good night if you weren’t in there?”

“…No.”

“No. Which is also bad. Which brings me to my key point.”

He tenses up, preparing for you to rip into him further.

“You’re doing a good job, Carmy.”

He immediately swivels back to you, almost dropping his phone. Knee knocking into yours. “Fuck off.”

“I will not.”

“You just said I was a catastrophe.”

“Fully not what I said.”

“I read between the lines.”

“Carmen.”

You take a breath, putting your arms on your knees, bent over. “The restaurant is beautiful, your cooks are talented and they’re prepared— So prepared that they can handle 23 minutes without you. That’s a good thing. You’re threaded into The Bear— The ship didn’t sink, not because you weren’t there, but because you had been. Everyone had the tools they needed to succeed, even with Heinz, a Mid painting, and torn tape. And listen—” You take one last sip of your coffee. “You need to check your ego if you think you’re the first man I’ve coaxed through a panic attack while doing a repair.”

He laughs, half-heartedly. He scratches his nose. “Heard. Yeah, thank you, Chef.”

“I don’t know shit about the meth thing though, I really couldn’t tell you.” You smile when this coaxes a better laugh out of him. You’re considering a career in stand up exclusively for him because it feels like such a reward to hear it.

“And the girl?” He asks. Amusement tinging but leaving his voice.

You click your teeth, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Based purely on your hesitation to say girlfriend, I’d say yeah, probably not ready for a relationship.” You reach your hand out to his shoulder when he flops his head down. “But, just asking, is this your first relationship?”

He thinks for too long before nodding slightly. “First one.”

“First restaurant too?”

He nods again.

“Yeah.” You pat his shoulder before letting it go, opting to hold your cooling cup. “I know you’re a Michelin star fuckin’ big deal but like, me personally, I can’t name a thing I got perfect the first time I did it.”

There’s something in his eyes, when you say that. Something wistful, nostalgic, hurt? No. Something different.

“It’s not that I didn’t do perfect—”

“You’ll do better next time.”

He wrings his hands together between his knees. “Yeah.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Carm.”

“You’re good at that.” He sniffs, head down, scratching his nose.

“At what? Self-help?”

He exhales what just barely sounds like a laugh. “Kinda. S’just, when you say it, you say it in a way where I actually believe it.”

You’re getting the fuck out of here before they open for dinner. You’re not letting anyone down tonight motherfucker. The Berf shall prevail. Maybe a win here will feel like a win for Carmen, too.

You run the sink to wash your hands, as you’ve done before here— But since fixing the pipes and the pressure… Something’s… different. You pause your scrubbing, listening closely.

…

When the sink is running, the gurgling flow of water from the toilet stops. Huh. You stop and start the faucet a few times to verify this. Yeah. You stare for a long moment before connecting the dots, then punch the sink in realization.

“Fucking Mikey!”

“What’d he do this time?”

You twist around. Ah, other sibling. Natalie. Clipboard in hand, business ready. You take a beat before remembering to smile, nodding to the sink behind you. “He connected the tank flow to the toilet and the sink with one wire.”

She tilts her head, squinting. “Why would he do that?”

“I suspect to save water?” You spin around, kneeling down to look behind the sink. “I think the idea was to have the sink not function when the toilet is flushing. But, it uh, well, did the reverse, kinda. Toilet doesn’t function when the sink isn’t running.”

“Oh.”

“So uh,” You shut the valve under the sink. “Your water bill should go down a little after this, since it won’t be running into what is an essentially a second trap pipe.”

“Oh!” Did she get what you said? No. But she doesn't need to. She heard ‘bill should go down’ and that’s really all she needed. “Thank you!”

“Not a problem. S’my job.” You stand, shutting off the valve to the toilet as well. As you kneel down to work again, you feel her gaze burning into your back. You don’t turn to face her. “You have questions.”

“Oh, ah… Am I so obvious—?”

“Yes.” You’re too quick to answer, unbolting the wires where it attaches to the toilet and the ground. You sniff with a panicked, “Ah, uh, it’s endearing.”

She’s quiet, for a moment. She doesn’t ask you what she actually wants to ask you, and you know that. “Well, I’ll need to exchange info for your invoice.”

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout that, your brother already covered it.” You stand once more, before going to the sink to undo it’s valve, you fish through the deep pocket of your jumpsuit, pulling out a crumpled business card and handing it to her.

“But it’s good to have my info on hand, for sure. It’s ah… Kinda old.” Kinda is an understatement. Your dad’s name is still on it, scribbled out in pen and replaced with yours. The dead business line is also scribbled out in exchange for your personal cell.

“It’s uh… I usually only work for friends and family, these days, so I’ve kinda stopped trying to keep up appearances.”

She smiles at it. Thank God, she finds it charming and not sloppy. She tucks it into the clasp of her clipboard. “That’s fine, we are friends and family.”

All you can do is nod, pivoting to the sink. There's a beat of peace.

“Didn’t see you at the funeral.”

Ah. There it is. For a Bear, she sure knows how to poke one. You stutter in unscrewing the bolt.

“Would’ve been nice to meet you, then.”

You clear your throat, it's strangled. “Yeah, I think I was trying to avoid introductions, honestly. Grief comes in different ways, eh?”

“Does it?”

“Mine does.” You swallow, unbolting the wire. With it free, you can just yank it out of the wall. God, forgive your brain, but Mikey was right, she does like to fight. Too bad you don’t.

She just hums in reply, watching you pull the wire from the wall. “You’re a real lifesaver.”

Fuck. Fuck. Lifesaver? Is she fucking with you?

“That toilet sprayed me right in the face, yesterday. And you saved Carmen.” There’s an amused lilt to her voice. She’s not fucking with you. “There’s something about a handywoman that Fak cannot match.”

You can hear a faint ‘Hey!’ through the walls. You laugh through an exhale.

“Again, s’my job. I do my best. Did uh, what was it, Terry come by for the walk-in? I wasn’t looking when I was there.”

You sort through your tools, deciding caulking the holes closed is probably the best option.

“He came over basically overnight to fix it, bless him, still don’t know his name.”

You laugh, it’s a little strangled. So Carmen did stay overnight. He must’ve. You smooth out the caulk with your thumb and a palette knife. Blending it into the grout as best as you can. “Good. Good.”

You dust yourself off. Standing. “Well. That’s uh. That’s my job done. Carmen asked me about—”

“Bolting down the booths?” She nods, checking the time on her watch. There’s not enough time before lunch to do it now. Plus you don’t have the screws. “You’re free to come by in the morning tomorrow—”

“But?” You interrupt, throwing your tool bag over your shoulder.

“But?”

“You said free like you’ve got a preference, what do you prefer?”

She chuckles, slightly. There is something about you that feels familiar. “If you could come after close tonight around 12, that would be nice—”

“It’s done. I’ll be there.”

“Lifesaver. I'll give you the code.”

Fuck.

Always gotta give the reader/mc some sort of mysterious background that even you don't have all the info on. Always.

Hehehehe, again, we're slowing this burn so much. Strangers to Friends to lovers but they're both so comfortable in friends it's hard to move !!

Forewarning, btw, if you've already sunk 10k worth of words into your brain for me (thank you!! I hope you've enjoyed!!), I've never written smut before and I feel like I probably will not build up the courage to do so by the end of this series, but I could prove myself wrong, I dunno. But warning in case that's your thing!! I might blue ball you babe!!

Pretty please tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my Berf shirt. Collector's value!! Thrown away!!

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