#will forever be a plus point for me for this series

[randomjreader]

Hidden Agenda has its flaws, but I gotta say I love love love that the conflicts of this series aren't super dramatic, but so godamn REAL. The pain Zo felt trying to be happy for his friend, but finding it hard because he's so disappointed to lose out on something he worked so hard for? And him just wanting to make his mum proud? Painfully relatable on all fronts people, this is the real life stuff your average person faces and I love that that's the direction this show took. Nothing crazy and intense, just real average people problems.

[spiritcc]

at this point I don't even know if tag fragmentation in the general russian holmes space is worth addressing. a few years ago I successfully kept the ancient customs intact because I wrote a post so deranged and pretentious it displeased people into doing what I wanted but nowadays what's the point in making a grand return of being terminally online if yall kinda right

[fluffy-lovely-clouds]

About to start my Marvel movie journey folks, wish me luck

[unproduciblesmackdown]

similar to the greentext stuff - i was visiting with my neighbors and their grandkids were around, and I said to this eight year old, "Hey, you wanna know something cool? I was playing the game when the Endermen came out." and his eyes went wide, like this kid looked like i told him i landed on the moon. His grandma thought it was really funny, and she said she has no idea what i'm talking about, but her grandbabies do, and that's incredible to her.

oh that's fun lmao, when minecraft & that update's existed for more than your whole life, and yknow being that young and like Next Year fr is this huge time scale away, a couple of years is a quarter of your life thus far and like maybe nigh half of the part of your life you actually have longterm memories for....i was checking out this dev's blog's archives about a:tdd's release in 2010 & in one entry they compared the implicitly Roughly concurrent release of Minecraft and i was like hey whoah. forever primarily being a game i've Heard Of more than any more direct exposure so i had no precise sense of [before minecraft release] [after minecraft release] Year 0 there but it's like for sure back in thee day when minecraft was a new thing, huh

[reysdriver]

Keeping It Quiet | E.M.

Eddie comes to visit you when everyone is sleeping... or so you thought — eddie x fem!hopper!reader fluff

warnings: suggestive content, making out, fear of getting caught, jokes about guns/getting shot

words: 1.7k

a/n: idgaf about timeline or continuity with the show when I do this series of oneshots, it's just kind of an alternate version of the show where Hopper is still here around the events of season 4 ig (also I LOVE this gif of joseph omg)

It was late at night, but you weren’t sleeping. You were taking advantage of the quiet house and catching up on some reading that finally wasn’t for school. You laid with the book at the foot of your bed, and your feet dangling over your pile of stuffed animals right by your pillows. 

It was so comfortable, you forgot about the world around you. 

And you were only brought back by the terrifying sound of someone knocking on your window. It scared you right out of your haze, at least until you looked outside and realised who it was. 

Eddie was standing right outside your bedroom wall with a stupid grin on his face, and he was pointing to the windowsill, wordlessly asking you to let him in. 

After rolling your eyes and marking your spot in the book, you got up and opened the window for your boyfriend. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, leaning over the separation to peck his lips quickly. 

“Not quite the warm welcome I was expecting.” He grunted, using the log you had placed under your window to climb in your room. “You’re not happy to see me?”

“You scared the hell out of me ‘cause you didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

“I didn’t know I was coming over until I was already in my van. I haven’t seen you in forever, plus I had something I wanted to show you.”

The last part was intriguing, but you still wanted to correct his dramatics. You’ve learned that if you didn’t act as the voice of reason sometimes, he would start believing his own exaggerations.

“It’s been two days since you last saw me.” And it didn’t take long for you to give in to whatever he was hiding. “But what is it that I have to see?” 

He let out an exaggerated sigh as he flopped down on the end of your bed. He looked up at you with fake sadness. “I should have known you would only like me for material things, Madonna.” 

“So what if I was a material girl? You’d still love me anyways.” 

He started speaking like he was in the school play, which he would never do. “It’s just sad—”

You jumped towards him to cover his mouth with your hand. As much as you loved his antics and would encourage it at any other time, it was all quiet in your house and you were petrified of waking your family. 

“Are you crazy?” You asked him in a hushed scold. 

He just nodded happily since he couldn’t speak with your hand still over his mouth. 

“If my dad hears you, he’ll burst into the room with a gun in his hand. You might be able to charm the pants off of me effortlessly, but I think you’d get shot if you tried to test your charisma on the chief of police.” 

You cautiously took your hand away from Eddie’s face while he looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Stop looking at me like that and show me what you wanted me to see in the first place.” You told him, sternly but lovingly. 

“Wow, you really are the chief’s daughter.” He joked as he stood up and took off his leather jacket. 

You figured he was just making himself comfortable, but when he started taking off the t-shirt he was wearing underneath the coat, you wondered what was really going on. 

Then you saw it. 

On his right side, where his rib cage ends, there was a new tattoo. A flaming sword that you knew was based on his current—and favourite—Dungeons and Dragons campaign of his. 

He pointed to the pommel of the weapon, which was a heart shaped gemstone. 

“Did you see the end? It doesn’t have anything to do with the game, but I designed it while thinking of you.” He smiled at you, and you smiled back. “Do you like it?”

“I love it, Eds.” You answered sincerely. “When did you get it done?”

“Friday. Right after your dad picked you up from the mall.”

“Did it hurt?”

He shook his head as he gently pushed you back against your pillows, then positioned himself on top of you.

“Not as much as it hurts to be away from you.”

You had to stifle your own laugh at his corniness. As stupid as it was, you did feel kind of flattered by him at that moment. And that’s exactly why you let him kiss you, despite you being just a few decibels away from your sleeping father waking up and grounding you permanently for sneaking a boy in. 

But you pushed all your worries aside and let him press his luscious lips against yours. God, how you couldn’t get enough of that sensation. 

You loved how he kissed you just because he likes to kiss you, how he used flavoured chapstick so he could heal his chapped lips, and how he always tasted faintly of cigarettes and the lemon candies you got him hooked on. 

You loved all that almost as much as what came next. 

When he moved his lips from your mouth to your jaw, and then your neck. He nipped the skin just lightly and then continued to work his magic. You had both noted another time just like this that your bodies must be made for each other, and this exact moment was perfect proof for that claim. 

“Oh, god, Eddie. You’re so good at this.” You praised, trying to keep your voice down. 

He mumbled an ‘mhm?’ against your throat. He was such a sucker for your affirmations. 

“Yeah. Just be careful not to leave a bruise.”

Eddie lifted his head up, causing your face to morph into a frown from the expression of pleasure just a second ago. 

“You don’t want little reminders of my love?” He asked, lips exaggeratedly pouted. 

“Not when my family can see them, loverboy.”

He seemed satisfied with that response, returning his attention to you and practically attacking your neck with his kisses. The way his mouth was worshipping your neck damn near put you in a trance. It was so good that you didn’t even notice the soft knock at your door, nor the opening that followed it. 

When your younger sister called out your name softly, that’s when you realised the importance of not letting your guard down. You tried to push Eddie off of you as he hadn’t seen Eleven there yet, but he got up quickly once he did notice. 

You urged him to sit down and stay silent while you pulled El away from your bedroom and into the bathroom, all while your sister stared at you with a wide-eyed expression. 

Eleven was the first one to speak between you two. “Who was that in your room?”

“That was my friend.” You said, partially honest. He was your friend, he was just also more. “His name is Eddie.”

“What were you and Eddie doing?”

You racked your brain, trying to think of something believable to say that would get your sister off your back. You really should have prepared a lie before this, because it was proving to be more difficult than you would have thought; of course, you never really thought about your sister catching you making out with your shirtless boyfriend.

“We were playing.” You answered as confidently as possible. 

“Playing?” 

You nodded. “Yeah, you know when you and I play-fight, like wrestling? When Dad sometimes thinks we’re hurting each other but we’re really just having fun?”

“So you and Eddie were just having fun?”

“Mhm.” You ran a hand through her hair, feeling somewhat guilty about your lie. “Why? Were you worried about me?”

She didn’t seem fazed at all by your fingers combing through her hair, but her cheeks flooded with pink when you asked if she knocked on your door out of concern for you. 

“I heard you were awake and I wanted to know what you were doing.” Eleven told you. 

It really was nothing embarrassing, she’s just a shy girl. And now you felt less guilty about lying since you know she was just curious rather than upset. 

“Well, I was just playing with my friend. But, don’t tell Dad about Eddie, okay?”

“Why not?”

Another question you didn’t quite have an answer for. Luckily, you were quick enough on your toes that your little sister wouldn’t notice the nonsense spilling from your mouth. 

“You know Dad can be a fun sponge sometimes. Like when he spends an hour questioning your friends before you can hang out, or when he won’t let us turn the couch into a pillow fort. If he hears about Eddie, he won’t let us have fun together anymore, and I would be really sad if I couldn’t see my friend.”

She seemed to be eating your excuse up, knowing exactly what you meant.

“Okay. I won’t tell him.” She agreed. “I don’t want you to be sad.”

“And I don’t want you to be tired, little lady. So, now that you know what you wanted to learn, how about you go back to sleep, okay?”

“Okay, goodnight.”

She opened the slightly creaky bathroom door and headed back to her bedroom, hopefully to fall back asleep soon. 

“Goodnight, El. Sleep tight.” You called in a volume just above the whisper you were using just seconds before.

You stood in the bathroom alone after you heard your sister’s bedroom door close. For a minute, you just listened to everything around your house. The quiet wind blowing outside, the sounds of Eddie flipping through your books as he waited for you to come back, and best of all, not a peep from your father’s room. 

It was safe to return to Eddie in your bedroom and resume the fooling around from before. 

Once you silently pushed open your door, closed it again, and sat down next to your boyfriend on the corner of your bed, he pulled you onto his lap. 

“So, we’re in the clear now?” Eddie asked you. 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we can be any less careful than usual. That just proves my family can hear us, so let’s not be stupid.”

A flirty grin spread across Eddie’s face as he trailed his fingers under your shirt and up your sides. “Baby, I can’t promise anything. Stupid is my middle name.”

[gb-patch]

GB Patch Games: Response About Sensitivity Reader

[Some of you might not have heard of this happening, but I wanted to address it across the board]

Hey everyone,

I want to make a post about the screenshots of comments from one of our sensitivity readers. The situation is that neither me or Rose want people to feel uncomfortable with Our Life: Now & Forever, but Rose hasn’t done anything terribly wrong and isn’t going to be punished.

The comment about OL MCs wasn’t meant to be genuine hatred towards all male players/MCs of OL. Rose wrote a reply about it-

"Hi everyone! This is Rose, I want to address the male MC comment since it was taken wildly out of context and without the lengthy discussion that was after it. I don't hate male MCs, in fact far from it, male MCs are integral to the story in OL:NF as female and trans MCs are. I think the relationship they could potentially have with Qiu could be a great asset in my opinion as they figure out their gender alongside the MC. The discussion itself was about how I noticed players were sticking to heteronormative norms by shipping Tamarack with a man purely out of societal norms than it was genuine thought into the characters and how I personally wished there was more sapphic relationships with Tamarack or just Tamarack with trans characters as a sapphic trans person myself. I didn't mean to offend anyone by it as no one but my friends who understood what I legitimately meant behind my message and it definitely wasn't meant to be seen seriously. I am sorry regardless to anyone I have offended and I love your male MCs regardless."

And most of the comments were about me. I’ve seen screenshots of the full conversations and they’re not as harsh as the cropped snippets made them out to be. It was longer discussions about not including Derek in any base game Moments for no good reason and not having any plus-sized love interests in OL1 because I was afraid players wouldn’t accept it. That’s not a lie, it’s what I decided for the game I created, and it is ridiculous of me. I’m the one who should be feeling embarrassed over how OL1 will forever be that way, not the people who remember that I did that. I’m not perfect and Rose actually cares more about the players than making me feel like I am flawless.

I also don’t want to tone police an employee venting about their boss in private, on their own time. Both the OL games deal with personal, important topics. This is sensitive work, and it can bring up frustrations. Sometimes people do use harsh words among friends, but they wouldn’t ever say it to a person seriously and directly.

I understand if you wouldn’t want to see anyone speak badly of a dev you like, but I promise it’s not a point of contention between me and Rose. I don’t feel mistreated in anyway. Rose genuinely cares about the Our Life series, and that’s why they get fed up with me over certain parts of the game.

Rose has never been unkind or unreasonable to me when working on the project, and their advice is detailed and well-explained. They do care about the game and want it to avoid having content that upsets people because of my own ignorance/shortcomings.

This being shared publicly from a private server is targeting Rose and seems to be a continuation of things that have happened before this. I don’t want this to continue happening. If you do still have concerns over the one comment about the community, you can let me know. But again, I don’t want people being mistrustful of Rose on my behalf for comments about me in conversations with missing context.

Do not send angry messages to Rose about any of this. We’ll do our best so that OL2 will be better than I was before. Thank you to everyone who reads this and participates in the community!

[suiana]

✎ yandere! slasher who's a mass murderer and doesn't discriminate when he kills people! he doesn't care about your gender, height... nothing! as long as he deems you a 'bad' person you're dead :3

✎ yandere! slasher who killed one of your friends because he was actually a big pervert who took nude photos of you?1!1! wait whys he kinda... 🤤

✎ yandere! slasher who didn't expect to be chased around by you after your friend's death. wait he's a killer! a killer! why are you fawning after him-?!

✎ yandere! slasher who's the traumatized while you're the traumatizer 😈😈 #couplegoals fr because you should get yourself a big scary looking man who's actually a huge softie on the inside. plus he also gets flustered by all of your acts of affection and that's extra cute!!

"..."

"why are you just staring at me like that?"

"..."

"say something!!!"

you frown at the killer as he shrugs and wipes the blood off his knife. you stare in horror as the blood drips to the ground, staining your newly cleaned floor. he then comes close to you, pointing the knife at your chest before making a series of rapid stabbing motions near your chest area.

however, you merely rolled your eyes at the killer, stepped close to him and stared at the holes in his bloody mask. seriously! the nerve that he had to just come into your home and do such a thing! you had to teach him a lesson.

"baby we've talked about this!"

you sigh as you push the knife away with your finger.

"don't come in the house with blood all over yourself! it's so hard to get rid of it!"

you let out an irritated click of the tongue as your frown deepens. the slasher only let's out a whine in response as he looks at you. to be honest it was hard to stay mad at him, especially when he's this adorable.

thinking about it, he's like a giant puppy. cute and adorable on the inside but big and scary on the outside. you looked at the masked male as he desperately tries to make up some reason as to why he forgot. but it doesn't matter, you weren't listening anyways. how could you? you were too focused on the fact that he came into your house and stained the floor with blood! right after you finished mopping too!

you couldn't let this slide.

"mop the floor and I'll forgive you."

you huff as you turn away from him. you then made your way to your bedroom as the male sighs in relief, thankful that it was all you asked him to do. but he forgot the fact that blood was hard to get rid of. especially when he had stepped all over your living room and made a mess everywhere.

"...this is gonna take forever."

[yourmidnightlover]

the story

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

w/c: 3.5k+

summary: the weeks following bucky ordering that steve be your bodyguard, followed by an insightful night at a gala with your beloved husband.

warnings: mention of the incident with john (groping), slight threats of violence, mention of fear, lip on lip action (the upstairs ones), if i've missed anything please let me know!!

a/n: hiii! the third installment of my forever? series! i didn't even intend for this to be more than one part, but you guys have inspired me to write more for it! my writing schedule is a bit off since i recently started a new job, but i'll try to be a bit consistent with it. i hope you guys enjoy this next part, more to come!

part 2 -> control

the first few weeks with steve as a bodyguard wasn’t too bad. he was actually kinda funny in a grandpa kinda way, and he was an amazing listener. you had bounced a few ideas for your book off of him and he seemed to be very intrigued by some of the plot points you had planned. he even promised to be one of the first customers, right behind bucky (which you may have rolled your eyes at), of course, as long as he was promised a signed copy.

but, at the two month mark you began to miss your independence. of course, the chef bucky had hired was amazing and had years of experience in italian cuisine, but sometimes a girl just wanted some greasy smash burger to chow down on. most nights you ate alone with steve until bucky walked through the front door. 

he always seemed beaten down and tired, as though work was more straining than usual. he would shrug his jacket off, place it on the hook by the door, then his shoes on the rack, and walk upstairs to shower before coming downstairs to eat as you and steve were finishing your plates. you tried your best to start conversation, to be the best company you could but eventually the silence always grew awkward and steve would usher you to go upstairs to your room with a pressed smile. 

after two months of not really needing to show you off i any way, there was an important gala for him to attend. of course, that means that you were to be his beloved arm candy for the night. 

“buck sent me the address for a local boutique that he thinks would be right up your alley,” steve read from his phone as you took a stroll in the garden that was full of beautiful colors. “the appointment is at 3:45, so we have plenty of time to get ready and head there too. oh and he says you should get something in that one shade of green… i’m assuming you know what that is?” his brows raise in confusion, as your mirror his in a stunned expression. 

“surprisingly, i do know what he means for once.” about six weeks before the wedding, you had spent an all nighter with him amidst all of the chaotic planning. 

“accent colors are super important! right now, all we have is an off white color, and while it’s a good color, i don’t want my wedding to wash everyone out that much,” you shoved his side as you sprawled your binders out on the coffee table. 

“i say… green,” he says after pondering for a minute. 

“green… like tree green?” you chuckled at the notion. 

“i mean the green that’s light yet earthy, not too dark but not scream-in-your-face bright. it’s beautiful. plus, i think you’d look stunning in it,” he shrugs casually as if he hadn’t described a mundane color in such an alluring way.

“so a sage green?” 

“maybe more on the jade green side,” he tried to hide a smile as his thumb began to mindly trace nonsense on your thigh. 

there was such elegance in the way he described the simple color, as if saying light green wouldn’t have sufficed. clearly, there was a significance to the mundane shade that he felt the need to recommend it. 

but you knew not to ask anything further to pry, doubting his readiness to comply so easily so early in your relationship. while it was during the happiest days of your relationship, you still knew he held you at arms length. 

at the appointment, you had found several dresses in the perfect color, but only one stood out to you after trying them on. steve was also a good guide in ensuring you were choosing the right one, although you’re sure he would just say every dress looked good regardless. 

growing up, you’d read about a love that was so encapsulating that one would rather face death than be without their lover. you’d yearned for that kind of love. the kind of love that was consuming and irreversible. the kind of love where your partner wouldn’t love you in spite of your flaws, but because of them. 

and now you were married to a man who didn’t seem to feel an ounce of that towards you. sure, the months leading up to your wedding made it seem otherwise. it made you hopeful that he could maybe grow to love you, as you could grow to love him. 

because truthfully, it was hard to see many flaws in the man, other than those that were rumored in the tabloids. you’d read or heard of his anger issues and his lack of patience but abundance of irritability. yet all you’d observed is his laughter, his diligence and compassion. 

it was definitely confusing to want to believe these two contradicting tales of composure, but ultimately seeing is believing. you’d decided to believe whatever he showed you, what was right in front of his face rather than believe whatever was whispered in your ear. besides, if something was worth believing it should be said with their full chest rather than in such a low tone. 

-

“almost ready?” bucky’s low voice rang through the door as you were doing finishing touches on your hair, making sure you looked as presentable as possible. 

“i just have to put the dress on, and i’ll be ready to go!” you replied, unzipping the bag that the dress came in, even though you suggested that doing so was overkill.

“let me know if you need any help.” you heard a thud from the other side that suggested that he was leaning against the door, waiting to hear if you did happen to need any assistance. 

you replied in silence, just stepping into the dress and lifting the straps over your shoulders. it was such a beautifully made gown, truly. it hugged you in the most flattering places, accentuating just the right amount without flaunting too much. the material felt like a warm hug from a lifelong friend, you almost never wanted to take it off. 

the only downside was the damn zipper. it was a bit rough to pull over your hips alone, but once you reached your mid back it seemed to reach a snagging stop. you twisted your arms every way possible, trying to avoid the totally cliche scene of calling him in to zip you up. 

alas, the universe had other plans for you. although, how much could you complain when that would mean his rough, yet gentle hands would be against your skin…

“...bucky?” your voice meekly called out, trying to interrupt your own thoughts from spiralling down the path you wanted them to so bad. 

“yea?” his voice piped up, seeming to jump an octave or two in the process. maybe you jst startled him. 

“could you maybe help me zip this thing up?” you became quiet before the twisting of your doorknob broke the silence. “my arms can’t quite contort the way they need to in order to zip this all the way…” you refused to meet his eyes as he trailed inside the room. 

the first sign of his presence was his hands grasping your shoulders, lightly tracing down your arms. then he leaned down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, more affectionate than he’d been the entire duration of your marriage without it being prompted. 

“you look beautiful,” he pressed another kiss to your other shoulder before letting his hands fall to a respectable place on your waist, stepping back to seemingly find where the zipper got stuck. “but what’s new, right?”

you chuckled at the compliment. 

“what’ve you been doing recently?” you asked meekly. “i haven’t seen you much at all since steve started his new gig as my babysitter.”

he sighed, stopping his antics to clarify what he felt he needed to. “he’s not a babysitter. he’s my best friend, and the only person i trust to look after the woman that i-the woman that i married, okay?” you felt his deep breathing on your neck before he continued, “i don’t know where john is yet. john is notorious for taking whatever he thinks is his and that night he made it very clear what he believed.” he turned you around to face him, the dress’ zipper be damned. “if anything happens to you… just the thought keeps me up at night. i need you to understand,” his voice was desperate, pleading almost. 

you understood what he was saying. at least, you were pretty sure you did. men in positions of power like bucky typically saw the people around them as pawns. part of you thinks that he’s saying all of this as the controlling, possessive boss man bucky. and that’s the large part of you. but the small part of you, the part of you that still believes in that fairytale love you used to read about, believes that maybe he’s saying all of this because he does feel something for you… something real. 

but that part of you is like… 15 percent. maybe 20…

“i understand,” you nodded, meeting his eyes and seeing desperation, fear. seeing fear radiating from a man that projects a version of himself that’s fearless is a scary thing. 

“good,” he nodded, his eye contact faltering to the dress that clung to your body. “you look indescribable, i’m a lucky man to call you mine.” once again, he grasped your shoulders to turn you around.

this time, he promptly found the zipper, his metal hand tracing nonsensical patterns on your shoulder as he zipped the dress with his flesh one. 

“all done,” he pressed a lingering kiss to your right shoulder. “my beautiful bride.” you wanted to believe him. 

“thank you,” you took a deep breath as you turned to face him. “so, tonight… what should i be expecting?” “well, there are a few people i’ll introduce you to, and a few i have to talk to. but i’ll be with you the whole time,” he pressed his hands into his pockets. “i scheduled a car to take us, and we have about 10 minutes before it should get here.”

“so we’ll be playing the roles of loving wife and doting husband?” you nudged his shoulder before you went to grab your shoes. 

“playing? this is all real, sweetheart,” he took the shoes from your hands, promptly dropping to his knees. 

“what are you-”

“i’m putting your shoes on, my love.” you chuckled before he guided your hand to his shoulder. “gonna want to hold on.” he picked up one of your legs by your calf, grabbing the correct shoe before slowly placing your foot inside and doing the same for your other shoe.

meanwhile, you were stuck staring down at him like a lovesick idiot. this behemoth of a man was beneath you treating you like a princess by putting your heels on for you. what the hell kind of alternate universe have you entered and how can you never leave?

“well, aren’t you a romantic?” you cleared your throat as he remained on his knees, a sight you could get used to. 

“don’t let the news spread around town,” he chuckled as he let your remaining foot hit the ground but not without pressing a kiss to your ankle. “i can’t have others knowing how enamored i am by you, can we?” “enamored?” you chuckled out. “what a word,” you shook your head as you helped him to his feet. 

“the perfect word.” he trailed his hand to a loose strand of hair, twirling it around his flesh fingers before he sighed, “the car should be here soon. we should head downstairs for it.”

it was a 45 minute ride there. you sat in a respectable silence, this time it wasn’t as awkward as it has been in the past. upon arrival, the door was swiftly opened for you, bucky getting out first and then offering his hand to help you step out. the first thirty minutes of the gala went very similarly. he would introduce you to a new face or say ‘hello’ to a familiar one, wrap his arm snugly around your waist before pressing a kiss to your cheek and move on to the next person. 

for a bunch of folks in banking and finance, everything seemed very high stakes. there seemed to be walls up all around you, from each man and woman you said a brief hello to or were meeting for the first time. everyone had decided to adorn a mask for the night, or maybe the mask was a semi-permanent fixture. maybe they’d worn the mask for so long they forgot how to function without one. you hoped you wouldn’t face the same fate.

to be doomed to fake face for so long that you no longer remember what was once real. you wanted something real, even if what you and bucky had was technically fake when you were in public. something about what happened behind closed doors when nobody was around gave you the illusion that part of it was real. 

“have i told you how ravishing you look tonight?” bucky held you close as you swayed to the soft melody. his metal hand was clutching your waist, his flesh hand holding your own.

“i think in different words, yes,” you both began to laugh at his flattery. “you don’t have to keep doing that, y’know? the compliments and everything… i think people get the idea that this is real by now.”

“you don’t get it, do you?” he shook his head before he moved his vibranium hand to your chin, nudging it up for you to meet his eyes. 

“get what?”

“buck,” steve’s voice interrupted your dance, but that didn’t stop bucky from pulling you taut to his side.

steve leaned in to whisper in his ear, but you were able to tell by his stone cold expression that whatever message that was being relayed to him wasn’t as delightful as the desserts from tonight. 

“when?” you barely registered bucky’s low voice over the music. 

steve went back to whispering in his ear and it wasn’t until he pulled back that you wanted to speak up, “what’s going on?”

bucky looked down to you, and when you looked into his eyes, what you saw was very similar to your earlier conversation with him. this time, however, there seemed to be anger buried beneath the stoic traces of fear. that’s when it clicked.

“did they find him?” his jaw clenched and unclenched.

“you told her about-”

“i told her what she deserves to know,” bucky interrupted steve’s accusatory tone. “you don’t get to question me or the decisions i make, especially not when those decisions are in regards to my wife.”

you weren’t sure if bucky was defending you or himself with the way he jumped on steve’s gears. 

“okay, got it,” steve rse his hands in defense before he nodded. 

“what steve was telling me was in regards to him, yes,” bucky clarified. “but it’s nothing important for you to need to know. you don’t have to worry about it, my love,” he let his flesh hand play with that same strand of hair as earlier as he looked down at you like his prized possession. 

oh yea, you almost forgot. that’s what you are to him. his trophy wife, as much as you hate that phrase. 

“when can we go home?” a shiver ran down your spine. what would john even do if he did get his hands on you? was he actually as bad as bucky made him seem, or was he worse? you gripped bucky’s arm tighter as thoughts raced through your brain. 

“hey,” he turned to face you again, his eyes no longer reflecting anger or fear but tenderness. “if you want to leave, we’ll leave. steve can get the car,” he turned briefly to steve who nodded before walking off, “we can talk on the way home. i can tell how many questions are running through that pretty head of yours right now. but i can assure you,” he cupped your face in his hands, and the contrast between the cold metal and the warm flesh was oddly grounding, “as long as your with me, or steve for that matter, you won’t have anything to worry about. i would do anything it takes to keep you safe.”

you nodded, pressing your lips together in a fine line, maybe a bit of doubt running in your head at the lengths he would go to in order to protect you. would he really go to the lengths necessary? would his hand be forced to do that? 

“how bad would it be if i admitted that i was scared right now?” you couldn’t meet his eyes as you admitted it. 

“it’s not bad at all. in fact, i understand. i just hope that you know that this is why steve is watching out for you now,” he dropped his hands to your shoulders, down your arms to hold your hands. 

“will you-would you be up for staying with me tonight?” you popped the question, almost scared of his answer. “like… like you did that night? i don’t really want to be alone tonight.”

“you don’t have to explain,” he smiled. “of course i’ll stay with you.”

the ride home was similar to the ride there, but this time with your head rested on his chest, his arms wrapped snugly around you. you’re sure he thought you were asleep when he pressed a kiss to your forehead. it also wasn’t beneath you to say you liked when he did it…

so much so that you apparently did fall sleep. when you woke up, it was wrapped in strong arms. you strained your neck to look at the clock beside your bed, the one that read 2:35 am. turning in bed to look at bucky, you realized you’d never seen him so peaceful. his hair had grown out a bit long, evident by the way it laid across his forehead. 

when you moved the few locks of hair from his forehead, he began to stir awake. 

“shhh,” you hummed softly. “it’s just me. sorry i woke you.”

“don’t be sorry,” his raspy voice was alluring this early in the morning, or was it late? “i don’t think i’ve slept this good since… well, since that night.”

“are you a secret cuddler, mr. barnes?” you smiled as he pulled you in a smidge tighter as he replied. 

“and what if i am?” “there are no complaints coming from me,” he pressed yet another kiss to yourforehead, then your cheek, your other cheek, and then you pulled back to look in his eyes again. 

the only light that was peaking through was from the hallway underneath the door, but that didn’t stop you from being able to see the bright smile decorating his face, a rare sight to see. 

“how bad would it be if i admitted that i really wanted to kiss you right now?” his thumb trailed across your bottom lip, gently pulling it down and watching it bounce back into place.

“it’s not bad at all,” you let your eyes find his lips before looking into his eyes once more. 

he made the first move, taking his flesh hand and cupping your face before he softly met your lips with his. every other kiss you’d had with him had been for show, cameras or people around to witness and aww at the romantic antics of the newlyweds. this one wasn’t for show. this was purely authentic. gentle, soft, delicate. for a man like bucky, you figured he wasn’t like this very often. this was a side of him not many other people got the privilege of witnessing. 

he was precise in his movements, every swipe of his tongue and every placement his hand made was deliberate, yet he was so tender. the soft grasp of your hair, the easy glide of his hand that began to hold your waist. it was all so consuming, in the best way possible. in the way that you wanted to drown in his presence. 

when you sweeped one of your legs over his, now perched on his lap, you felt him smile against your lips. 

“you’re astounding,” he breathed into you. “breathtaking,” he rearranged his hips, accidentally brushing his hardon against your center. “shit.”

“sorry,” you smiled against him as you pulled back, resting your forehead against his. 

“nothin’ to apologize for,” he shook his head with a laugh. “i mean, you are my wife an’ all.”

“i know, but,” taking a deep breath, you tried to figure out how to word what you wanted to say to him. you came up with nothing. “i don’ know. it’s different. we haven’t necessarily been the most affectionate since our wedding.”

“i didn’t think you wanted anything more,” his face shone with disbelief. “i didn’t want you to think you were forced to be ‘affectionate’ with me. you didn’t really want to marry me in the first place. i realize that.”

were you not this puppet in his master show? some play thing for him to own and display whenever he pleased? had every story you’d heard about him been nothing but that… just stories? could this story of you and him have a happy ending?

tags:

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@mrsnikstan

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@mrs-bucky-barnes-73

@armystay89

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@greatenthusiasttidalwave

@loki-laufeyson68

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[alastors-antlers]

a brief take on the whole "Alastor's smile is permanent" discussion

hello all!

I've seen a lot of people theorizing lately that Alastor actually smiles all the time because his smile is magically, physically fixed onto his face. All of this seems to come from the fact that he's practically grimacing rather than smiling during the scene where he breaks down in ep8:

As well as this frame of his deal with Charlie: (lower res sorry)

I will say, I do like some of the implications of this theory. The sheer spite of his creditor forcing him to smile as an addition to their deal, almost like a sort of forced silence, is a neat concept. It's fun and dramatic. Plus, of all things, of course Alastor would claim the "smile at all times" policy and make it his own to pretend that it was his decision all along lol.

To be fair, though, I don't think we even need any magical compulsion to explain why he's smiling while he's having a mental breakdown. Actually, if we assume magical compulsion, I think we lose a bit of dimension from Alastor's character. (No judgement to anyone's take though, of course -- I just think this works in the direction of his established characterization, but obviously all personal takes <3)

Hear me out:

Alastor's persona is not just for others to see.

"A smile is a valuable tool, my dear. It inspires your friends; keeps your enemies guessing; and ensures that whatever comes your way, you're the one in control."

That makes sense given what we know about him. If he's always smiling, he seems like he has it together. You can't read him very well, especially not when he's actively trying to keep up appearances.

Now consider that when you think about ep8's fight with Heaven, we see that he's already been through so much in this one day.

He fights an army of angels, presumably not even at his own whim (if we go by his blurb about freedom in the Finale song); he loses to Adam, who he considers sloppy and mediocre; his staff, which we can assume holds some part of his power, is snapped; he comes close to being Angelic-power-killed; and to top it all off, he knows that others watched him get injured and then apparently die or flee, all of which would ruin the public image that he's trying to maintain. It wouldn't even be unreasonable for us to assume that he knows Vox was watching, given that Vox kind of has eyes everywhere.

In a moment like this, in the finale, you could say that Alastor has lost (at least on some level) everything that we know matters to him. He doesn't have access to all of his magic, and it's limiting him. He's reminded that he doesn't have freedom or control over his own destiny. He certainly has taken massive hits to his powerful, composed persona. But he's desperate, and furious, and terrified, and clinging on.

That's why he's smiling.

It's not that he can't stop because he physically can't. It's that he can't stop because to him, the smile is the last thing that is still within his power. When there are so many moving parts that he can't predict what happens to him next, he can control how he responds to it. In these last fragments of autonomy, there is solace.

He needs to keep telling himself that he has it together and that he'll eventually scheme his way free, that there's a solution, that he won't be in chains forever; because letting his pretense slip would be admitting that it's all starting to actually get to him. That maybe this time, he doesn't have an escape plan.

In addition, if you read his interactions throughout the series, we also see something else: Alastor's reputation is of paramount importance to him. At multiple points throughout the series, when others disrespect him by discounting his power or presence, he gets visibly annoyed. And in the battle, we see a glimpse of the part of his personality he seems to be trying to leave behind - a normal Alastor, who's just some guy from Louisiana. No transatlantic accent; no unflappable malice; no sharp wit waiting at the ready. Maybe even unremarkable.

Dropping his smile - arguably the most prominent part of his brand - would be admitting that in reality, he's not the Radio Demon of legend that he aspires to project. And if he doesn't have that... where would he be?

[arlertwhore]

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! “sneaky link” reader.

synopsis: paige & you find a new hookup spot: your parents' house. what else do you find? that the chemistry never left after all - you just have to get paige in the right space - literally. warning(s): smut, strap 😬, paige eats it from da back, dirty talk / fluffy pretty much, degrading, choking, idk bro this is from memory i didn't read it so 🤷‍♀️ find out yourself word count: 4.1k (SHESSH) Author Note: the anticipated part 6 that took forever to write because of terrible writers' block. the creative spark just isn't there for this series anymore, so this alone will serve as the conclusion to the series, however — i do have a draft i'll release that can be regarded as a part 7. thanks tons for all the support on something i played around with and got hooked on! love u all sm ☺️❣️

Being at the family home of the girl Paige was casually involved with wasn't exactly how she pictured the UCONN long weekend off going. She and the team had planned a series of fun activities, and although your invitation completely disrupted those plans, she couldn't say no. "Hello? I… Team's awake, I'm in the washroom, be quick."

You chuckle softly. "So I guess that means now isn't a good time to tell you you're coming back home with me this weekend?" Paige sees her reflection and watches her resolve surface, anticipating that you're going to try to escalate things back into what they shouldn't be, breaking down the walls she has up.

She scoffs. "Y/N, you know we can't do that." "I won, Paige, fair and square. You said 'anything', you promised!" you insist, taking advantage of the fact that as a competitor, she'll honor her word. "Yeah, but don't you think it's a little bit intense for me to meet your family? I mean, I just don't want to overstep any boundaries," she stammers, uncertain. You glare at your phone, staring at the wavering voicebox of Paige. "You realize I'm doing this for you, right? How I always am? And because it's too hot to keep banging you in your car?" you say firmly. Finding new spots for clandestine rendezvous was proving increasingly challenging. At least with the constant change of locations, sneaking around, and adventure, you could pretend to yourself that you were going on the first date you knew Paige would never officially give you. And if she wasn't going to give you that first date, the least you could ask for was a comfortable bed. But you knew her, you knew her rules, and the only thing you had left was that victory over her head on the club Friday, so you wanted to use it.

It falls silent on her end. Paige doesn't want to talk about your sacrifices for this.

For you and her. For her. You want to tell Paige how it affects you to be nothing but a secret to her, especially now that she's afraid of her team's disapproval and seemingly everyone else's, meanwhile, you bust your ass, comply, and accommodate everything that being her confidante requires, but for the sake of your own feelings, you know you can't. She will leave you. She'd made that clear from the beginning. Paige's commitment issues and seemingly inability to have genuine emotions for a girl are frustrating, especially given her actions toward you. Perhaps back then, before she forgave your sins against her strict rules, took your virginity, and got to know you far beyond casual, you didn't care. But now, you knew her well enough to trust her around your family and you couldn't risk losing the only person in the world who just seemed to get you. None of your 'close' friends, who didn't care for a thing to do with you, deserved to be the one you chose. Even if she sometimes treated you like you were nothing, you knew the only person for you was her. And plus, your parents were nice people. She didn't have to worry about judgment like she always did — I mean for crying out loud they raised you, nerdy, quiet, and a loner up until this point of your life. Male or female, they'd be proud to see something good with the person they put out into the world.

"This isn't... meeting your family isn't 'anything,'" Paige countered, hushing after hearing footsteps pass the washroom door. "And plus, we have shit planned for this weekend. What do I tell th—" Team. You roll your eyes. The team left, the team right, the team all around. You cut her off. "You're visiting your Grandma."

And again, you win. Still, Paige sighs. "This isn't exactly fair for you to just spring on me, y'know? I've been so hyped for the plans this weekend and you just... you ruined them!" You can hear she's serious, her tone half angry yet delivered with a lightheartedness that doesn't ease the blow of her words. All you did was invite her to come home with you, supposedly 'ruining' her plans. You retort, "Ruining? Jeez, thanks, Paige." "Yeah!" she refutes, still trying to whisper. You giggle, then mutter provocatively, "Should've eaten my pussy better, loser," knowing it'll halt her momentum. You gloat, "Gosh, how do you fail at something as easy as that? Something you've been doing since you were 16!" The banter continues. "You'll change your mind on that soon," she predicts.

You chuckle confidently. "We'll see about that, peanut butter. Bags packed, 10 am sharp. Don't keep me waiting, loser," making your point clear.

You end the call with Paige and smirk to yourself, feeling a mix of anticipation and defiance. You can't believe how much of a rebel you've become, just as Paige can't—once so pristine when she first met you, she's corrupted you to the point of using your parents' place as a sneaky link spot. But with you guys left rendered optionless, Paige's next move was to fabricate a story about picking up her clothes if their shared app alerted her location. However, the plan was soiled with the early arrival of your new roommate, a freshman named Maggie, and you had no choice but to evacuate Connecticut altogether, returning to your place in the city just over; calmer, more serene, and familiar. You quickly text your parents: "Bringing a friend," before rushing off to pack. You'll try to keep them out of your hair as much as possible. It's only a 4-day stay, and they're both very schedule-oriented people, so you anticipate that you and Paige will have the house to yourselves mostly. Just as you're about to finish packing, you recall the strap and text Paige again, sending a picture of you holding it with the caption, "Bring??" She ignores your question about the strap and instead frets like she did the day you first showed it to her, as if she has a big performance the next day. She texts you back:

"Should I dress girly? Do I bring a gift? Are you sure they're okay with us?" She's overwhelmed with uncertainty, unsure of how to navigate this new territory, but you don't give her any tips because Paige needs to figure it out herself. You know it's how she's always rolled, relying on herself. You ignore her and continue, "Sooo, strap on or not? I'd love to try it out on you finally.☺️"

"Now especially no," she shoots back. Then she follows up, cryptically, "You're not the only one with surprises. Trust me. We won't need it." At that remark, you hop into bed eagerly and await sleep, yearning for the day to arrive faster. You stop thinking obsessively about why she won't let you use it on her, and it's the last thing on your mind before you doze off. At 9 AM, you're awake, welcoming your new roommate Maggie, and by 10, you're out and at Paige's dorm. She's waiting outside, readied. She doesn't know how to not dress like a tomboy, so she's awkwardly masculine, but now in pink, and the sight throws you off guard. You thought she'd figure her shit out better than that, and you laugh as you film her, to use it as blackmail in case she ever leaks the many pictures and videos she has of you (which you know she won't). When she climbs into the car after stowing her bag in the backseat, she grabs your wrists and uses her strong grip to hold them in one hand as she deletes the videos, uttering, "Think you're funny, huh, ma?" "No... I think you are," you chuckle, and Paige pushes you away playfully by the forehead. You tease her relentlessly, the amusement of your time with her just beginning and already infectious. She rolls her eyes, shaking her head at your immaturity with a shy smile on her face. "I can't believe I agreed to this," she grumbles and you echo the words from last night, chortling, "You had no choice, remember, Paige Puckers?" a play on words at how she drunkenly, clumsily, and messily explored a tactic that, while it did get you off eventually, was hard to get the hang of at first. She smirks and you see the challenge in her eyes. "I'll make you eat those words, ma, just watch." As you guys veer off, Paige takes control of the music and begins shedding layers until she's left in just the pink flannel, a sports bra, and basketball shorts, feeling overheated. She's so absorbed in the music that when you arrive, she doesn't notice she's partially undressed until the door swings open to your parents, and she quickly tugs the flannel over her body tighter. She watches with a smile as you hug your mother warmly, while Paige stands back, observing. "And you must be the friend she spoke of!" your father extends his hand for a shake, and Paige reciprocates, resisting the urge to give him a fist bump, as that's all she knows. "Paige," she replies calmly, "It's nice to meet you, sir. And Ma'am," she nods to your mother afterward, who smiles before stepping aside. "Well, come on in, girls, this heat is stifling." You all sit down with a cold pitcher of iced tea after bringing your bags up to your room. As you settle at the kitchen island, your parents strike up a friendly conversation with Paige across from you.

You start to regret the whole situation when your mom and Paige hit it off too well, and your mom embarrasses you. "Y'know, it's about time I met a friend of hers, Paige. You're the first; she's never really had any," your mom remarks, and you feel yourself blush. "Mom!" you interject, embarrassed.

"No, no, let her. You've been teasing me all day, you deserve it," Paige chimes in with a chuckle, playfully slapping her knee. "So, I hear Paige plays basketball, Y/N. Seeing as she's never really been the athlete type, you know, more of a bookworm? How did you two meet?" she inquires. You grow hotter, not good for the warm weather. You can't tell your Mom & Dad that: "Hey Mom, I got hammered at a party for the first time, drunkenly approached Paige's friends, and ranted to them about how I would marry her, then made out with her in the bathroom before proceeding to let her fuck me within an inch of my life the following weekend." You were still their little, strange, friendless, and focused girl. "Things just clicked," Paige answers, PG'ing and summarizing the story. "She was just... looking like the life of the party, and I thought she looked fun, so I wanted to get to know her." "Did you find out that looks are deceiving?" your mom asks again, and Paige is genuinely and seriously laughing—not the "haha parent way," but actual laughter. When even your father chimes in and says, "I bet she forces you to practice Telekinesis and stuff like that, huh?" is when you truly decide you won't tolerate the bullying. "Cytokinesis, Dad," you correct as you get up. "And I study developmental biology now. That Bio for children." And besides, you didn't want Paige to get too close to them anyway—just close enough to exist in their house unbothered.

We're gonna go pick you girls up some dinner!" said your mom cheerfully. "We'd love you to join us."

Paige begins to say yes, but you interject, "Actually, we're gonna have a nap. The ride was exhausting." She doesn't budge, so enthralled with your parents that she isn't catching on until you have to gently pull her out of her chair, trailing off with her as she calls back to your mom who had asked, "Paige, what do you like?"

"Y'alls sense of humor!" she chuckles, because Paige just gets her (they enjoy teasing you together).

"Okay, girls, don't nap too hard!" jokes your dad, and before the door can even close, you're kissing Paige deeply in the upstairs corridor, trying to make her forget everything she'd been told. Napping is the last thing you'll be doing. Her hand comes to your chest, attempting to push you away, but you're resilient and hold her with determination as you back her into the doorframe of your bedroom. "Since when were you such a scaredy pants?" you tease as you strip off your clothes, not bothering to lock the door. "We've been walking around in public everywhere these days, and inside is when you get nervous?" Within seconds, before Paige even shuts the bedroom door behind her, you're naked against her, pressing your tits against hers firmly as you shower her with a barrage of kisses. "Gonna make me eat my words still?" you challenge her. Paige slowly realizes you weren't joking about just wanting a comfortable place to have sex with her, and that it was the primary purpose of her visit. She still can't shift gears because she'd been with your parents just a moment ago, and now you're in this intimate moment. So you help her.

"Because it looks like I'm making you eat yours." you smirk at her teasingly. Before you know it, you've pumped the gas so hard she has you turned over on all fours on the bed, back arched invitingly. She wastes no time with you, and despite your usual verbosity, the way you yield to her the moment her tongue delves into your cunt is undeniable. You press back into her face, enveloping her between your thighs and asscheeks, and Paige thinks if she's going to go, she wouldn't have it any other way. You whimper softly in pleasure, squirming as you press against her warm tongue, and Paige chuckles, the vibrations from the deep shrill causing you to jolt forward, feeling the hum pulsate through your pussy hauntingly. "Aw, shit, Paige, you get me so wet," you moan desperately, "You make me so crazy, fuck." The thrill of the moment is evident in her eyes, wide with desire as she gazes at you from above her. You look back at her below you, eyes lidded and mouth parted in an 'o', and you look pornographic. It's sick, really, to think how just moments ago she was conversing with your parents, and now, here she was, tounge enamored filthily in your cunt, savoring every drop of arousal from your desperate dripping hole. "Your pussy tastes so good," Paige murmured, her lips puckering as she spoke before gently nibbling at your clit, swirling her tongue around the pearl in a circular motion, which you absentmindedly replicate with your finger as you gripped the sheets, groaning deeply. Maybe after all, you did like the plump of her lips encasing you as her tongue worked at your clit fervently, making soft wet noises. "Shut up, Paige," you said, "You're gonna-I'll cu-" you're too prideful to say it could EVER happen that early, and just continue to grind your hips against her pretty face, not bothering to ask how she's holding up. Judging by the way she slurps at your clit voraciously, her tongue eagerly scrambling from the front to the back of your cunt, clit to entrance, laving through it hungrily each stroke of the muscle and eliciting the nastiest and most repulsive sounds you've ever heard, yet somehow the sexiest, you have reason to believe she's doing just fine. And you tell her how fine she's doing through a broken, fucked out, and breathless assurance of, "Y'so good, P," biting your lip as you whine your hips languidly, whispering, "Keep going, please." She pulls back, struggling to find her breath. "You're a fucking—" she gasps for air, "You're a slut." The way she says it leaves you aching for more devaluing words, because when Paige utters them, it sends you into a frenzy unlike anything else. In the haze of it, you plead, "Shit, just fuck me, I... fingers, I need them." She rises from her knees. "Say it," she demanded, smacking your ass, and meeting your gaze. "Tell me what you are." You don't have a chance to answer before she presses you down hard, into the mattress, and you gasp at the intense pressure, feeling your cheeks flush impossibly hotter. "A slut," you strainedly admit, the pressure on your back knocking the wind out of you. The words, though so sexily demeaning, are true at the moment.

She's pummeling you in your childhood bedroom and has the audacity to demand sharply, "Louder!" as she presses you down, causing the ache in the first place. You fight for breath, complicitly declaring, "A slut, Paige, mmph!"

You should've known you were in for a ride the moment Paige fell silent. Arms pinned behind your back in between her palms, you squirm at the feel of something much thicker than her fingers rimming against your cunt, and you can't see it, so you start to panic. You can only feel it. It's so large you fear it might break you, and before you can say anything, Paige has eased the tip inside you with a dazed sigh. Your head crooks back to watch her face as she sinks her cock into you, and it makes her heart jump because it's a little too intimate and it reminds her of the first time ever. Still, she doesn't attempt to break it. It's sexy to both of you and it's not often that it happens. She's typically invested in gazing at your body or your lips, or just has her eyes closed, but the look in her eye as she leans forward is intense, and the one in yours gets Paige wetter at the mere sight. She's so satisfied by how you have no choice but to yield and take it, take her - until your body involuntarily starts to falter, punctured by the weight of it pulling you down from inside your body. "So...fuckin'....sexy," she moaned, her free hand gripping your hips and reigning them back as her own pressed forward simultaneously, fucking you thoroughly. She repeats the act, pulling you back and pushing forward until she thrusts particularly hard, and gasps herself. It's genuine, and you're unsure how to react to hearing her moan so sincerely. You simply nod approvingly. "I love how you sound when you fuck me, P," you encourage her, to which she replies, "I love how it feels when I fuck you, baby," "Then don't stop," you cry as you rock forward, slots of arousal pulsating from your core and coating her strap in opaque white. "I'd never want you to." It's insane how when she releases your wrists and manages to sink into you fully, she begins using your body like a toy, ruthlessly owning your cunt with grunts of satisfaction each time your ass claps against her, your skin clapping together. "Such a tight little pussy, God," she praises, watching the sight of your cunt expanding and then resetting with how thick she is, struggling to not get wrecked. With how this strap is made, when you come back against her, she feels every sensation, each thrust pushing the double-ended dildo deeper inside of her as it slides in and out, quicker when you fuck her back. So she might be using you like a fleshlight for the tip to rub the walls of her G-spot, but you can't blame her. She's doing all the work. You lie there helpless and overwhelmed with pleasure as she hammers into you from behind, pulling you back by your hair to meet her gaze, so you can see her and the way she wrecks you proudly. "Fuck yourself on it, angel, please," she pleaded, and it's sweeter than the sinful look she's giving you. Experimentally, you push back hard, meeting her strokes, and she whimpers directly in front of your face, a high-pitched, desperate sound that emerges from deep within her body. "Please," she begged again, "You're gonna make me cum, aw fuck, baby," Your eyes roll back into your head. At the tempo you set for yourself to feel good and the one Paige sets for you to make HER feel good by throwing it back on her, essentially for you, you feel your climax on the horizon. "I want it, Paige, cum with me," you plead. "Yeah?" she grunts, her voice gritty. "You want P's cum? Think you deserve it?"

"I-I do." "Then fuck it out of me," she commands, hands tightening around your waist and pulling your back flush against her chest, essentially hugging you as you rut against her, crying out her name with each movement.

She grips your tit in one hand, squeezing gently and pulling, "Go, baby, yeah.. just like that, make me cum," and though she's trying to steady it, you hear how her voice cracks a couple of times. It sounds so sexy and it gets so raw that it gets to the point where you're actually throwing it back, popping your hips and whining it so quickly Paige can't even help you move faster for both of you. She can't catch your ass as it bounces so vigorously, the visual mesmerizing as she watches. "Don't stop, ma," You're trembling, toes curling uncontrollably as you whine and whimper and grind against her. "I'm close!" you gasp, and just as Paige speeds up, the front door opens downstairs, and her hand flies up to your neck, silencing you, her other hand muffling your sounds. You reach your climax with no air left in you as footsteps approach up the stairs, and you shout into a pillow. Paige is quick enough to press your face into said pillow by this point and finish both of you off, her body pressed against yours as she huffs into your ear. You swear you hear her say it, even if she'll try to deny it later. "You're mine, fuck," as she cums, panting. You lay there, Paige on-top of you, flush against your body, limp.

And for a moment, the world stills, your hearing muffles, but you can still hear your Dad knocking carefully. "Still asleep girls?" he asks. Paige nods, smiling. "Yeah! If it's okay, we're gonna head for a walk before dinner. Y/N needs to wake up!" She's right — you're so overwhelmed that you find yourself outside, dressed, sitting on a bench in your neighborhood park. Yet Paige is still clinging to you for reasons you can't quite grasp.

The gentle, refreshing breeze envelops you both, the park empty and serene. Lost in each other's embrace, you finally pull away, the words tumbling out: "That felt like the first time, kind of."

Perhaps it had considering the two of you finally got to do something more sexually exciting in behest of maneuvering sex in her car.

Paige's response helps it all make sense. "I know." She might be swept up in the moment, but you don't protest. If it feels good, it does, and you eagerly pull her back in as she grips your sore ass, moving you over her lap to straddle her, kneading it. "I bought you...my strap as a gift because I wanted to thank you for, you know, how good of a...link you are," she says affectionately. You gaze deeply into her eyes, refusing to let her look away as you study her face.

She's so serious and so stupid for choosing to get in her feelings while at your parents' house for the week - with you. "What?" she asks intently, eyes tracing over your face as she searches for your reaction. "Is that-... Are you okay?" When you don't answer, lost in the post-coital haze, smiling softly, she murmurs, "So pretty." She doesn't even try to hide she's in the ropes of it too, but while out of the haze, she doesn't think there's ever been a moment when she's seen you look as beautiful as you do when you're in this blissful state.

"Paige?" you whisper, head buried in the curve of her neck as she moves to gently stroke your back soothingly. "Yeah?"

"Do you feel this too?" The question is extremely raw, earnest, and vulnerable, but under the spell of the moment, it sounds like magic to her ears. "Yeah, I... yeah."

"Have you felt it before?" you inquire softly, searching her eyes. "Besides the first time? Because I... I have. I do."

She holds you tighter, placing you back into the crook of her neck, and you suppose she's ducking from letting you see her when you feel her nod. "You're gonna get me in trouble, y'know. You always do."

You smile softly, kissing her soft skin. Little does she know, you already have. MASTERLIST

AUTHOR NOTE #2: this ending i think can cap off the series perfectly because it's left up to the interpretation of the reader. i mean, lmk if i should release the pt 7 draft when i start releasing drafts anyway! lmk anything on your mind I LOVEE you anons / moots / ppl who message me / ppl who reply to my posts, ur all the funniest ppl ever! - ana.

[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!!

Next Part

[jjenthusee]

Racing Hearts Pt. 5

Pairing: F1!Driver!JasonTodd x Reporter!Reader

A/N: sorry for the late late late update 😭 i was having so much problems with trying to enjoy this series again that I felt that if i rushed it it would ruin the series for not just me but a lot of people. Thank you for all the patience and i hope u enjoy this much needed chapter. ENJOY and flowers for all of u 😫💐 like if you’re comfortable and please tell me your thoughts as the story continues <3

Check out the Racing Hearts Masterlist!

Word Count: 1.9k (sorry but i’ll work my way up again 💪)

Jason finally had time to check his phone. He removed any miscellaneous notifications he forgot to silent before getting to the track this morning, but he was checking for a familiar name and icon.

It was like a little surge was invading his bones. He couldn’t help smiling at your conversations, it was like he was back to a teenager nervously trying to talk to a crush, but he didn’t have a lot of experience with those.

The times he rarely did have a fling, he kept it private, left it before it could be a scandal that he would be chewed out for.

But this.

This was new. He knew it was different when he was trying to get any attempt to still make sure you were fine with being with him.

What really made his stomach churn was when he couldn’t bring you to the airport to see him off. It felt wrong to leave your place without you behind him, leaving you to kiss only him goodbye, but not asking to follow him to the airport.

He tried to brush off the feeling the entire flight, but he couldn’t squish the thought that he wanted you here. That other than a quick romance, he could talk to you about his personal life, and he was fighting to throw you on the next plane so you could watch him race.

Maybe a dramatic kiss after he won would be nice. But, that was too cliché.

While deep in his thoughts, Roy tried to peak over Jason’s shoulder, trying to see what he was looking at, but it was not smart to try that on such a tall man. All he could manage to see was an open browser with plane flights.

“You tryna leave me here by myself?” Roy calmly asked, keeping his eyes down at the phone.

Jason frowned, not surprised at the nosey man.

“You get a little friend and now you want to leave me?” Roy feigned tears, placing his hands gently onto Jason’s shoulders. “If you must, then go! I can get us a championship. I can handle that for us.”

Jason sighed, closing his phone.

“Shouldn’t you be watching Lian? Why are you bothering me and what are you talking about?” He asked.

“Lian’s always with the crew, she’s more interested in the buttons than behind the wheel—don’t try to distract me, I’m not stupid, Jaybird. I knew you were a two timer.” Roy pointed an accusing finger into Jason’s face. “I saw that interview and I know that look in your eyes. I even commented on that video.”

“Uh, huh.” Jason ignored him and walked away, this time looking back at his phone to try to type, not reacting to Roy’s antics.

“I’m surprised your brothers haven’t bothered you about it. Dick’s gonna be jealous when I tell him you’re trying to get a flight back for love.” Roy aimlessly followed Jason, adjusting the cap on his head as he playfully wiggled his brows.

“That dickwad is probably too busy hiding behind a badge for that. He needs to find better things to do than bother me.” Jason stopped pacing, looking back at the red hair tail that can’t seem to get off him. “And you need to watch your daughter and also stop bothering me.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Roy sung. “Just me and you on this track forever, plus Lian, never leaving each other while we embrace—with Lian, of course.” He opened his arms for a hug.

Jason gave Roy an impassive look, not bothered to even give him an expression.

Still with open arms and a smile on his face, Roy waited before a small voice shouted out.

“JayJay! JayJay!” Lian’s small shout catches Roy’s attention.

“My Lian!” Roy reached out to grab his daughter walking with one of the crew members, finally relieving them from their babysitting duty. “No Jaybird today, Lian, he’s trying to run away.” He cooed happily to his daughter as she laughed, large noise cancelling headphones were bouncing around her neck and a bright smile spread on her face as he booped her nose.

“I’m not—the flight isn’t for me.” Jason sighed, not willing to look at Roy fully in the eyes.

Roy’s eyes widened as he heard the admission. A small silence lingered.

Lian broke the pause by reaching out for Jason. She made small grabby hands before he immediately gave in to grab her underneath her arms, settling on his chest.

She whispered a small “JayJay” before laying her head down, exhausted from an hour of playing while Roy and Jason were busy racing in the practice sessions.

While Jason patted Lian’s back soothingly, Roy watched as the two most important people in his life were embracing. It brought a smile to his face.

“I’m happy for you, Jaybird.”

It was all that was said between the two as Lian closed her eyes, but Jason felt content. He was given support.

—

“I’m never afraid of the track, it’s the fastest you can ever be on the ground and I wanna be the best.” Jason spoke to the interviewer on your TV screen, the Australian sun surrounding his face.

“How important is this race for you?” The off-screen voice asked Jason.

“Every race is important. I’ve gotten RedBull multiple wins these past couple years and I want to add another one. I feel better than I’ve ever have.”

You sat on your couch, dinner in your lap, watching your partner on screen wave goodbye, giving one final dazzling smile while taking off to his car.

He looked like he was in his element, a kind of happiness that only sprouted in him from Formula 1. A kind of motivation used for racing.

“Welcome to another race of the Formula One World Championship. What a great weekend to continue a new season.” The introduction boomed from your TV, setting up the Sunday excitement, ready to end another race weekend.

Ding. Ding. Your phone notifications rung next to you as you took a bite of your dinner.

You: I told you to hold a peace sign to the camera, now you owe me dinner

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: *thumbs down your message*

You laugh at your phone screen.

You: Loser

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: *thumbs down your message*

You: Send me a picture of you in your gear

As you wait for the reply, your TV catches your attention. A driver you’ve never seen before now standing in front of the microphone.

“Todd? How is that guy a threat? He just hides behind the RedBull emblem, but he’s nothing but another racer.” The raspy voice sent a chill through you.

“Jason Todd is a back-to-back four-time World Champion, do you plan on breaking that streak?” The interviewer pressed on.

“Ha! Like that’s hard, did you see how he crashed his vehicle last year? Bet he wouldn’t want that happening again, huh?” The man’s voice twisted something in you.

Formula 1 did have it’s competitive moments, but how was someone like this rude man competing?

Ding.

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: please I am more than my body

Despite Jason’s words, a flattering picture of him came in. A good look at his hands and body in the RedBull uniform. Gosh, you missed him.

You saved the photo with a smile on your face. A new lock screen.

You: don’t injure that pretty face of yours <3

“Thank you for the interview, good luck on your race.” The interviewer finished up, stepping in front of the camera to replace the rude driver.

You glanced up to get one final look at the screen, watching the rude racer walk away, expecting him to get bombarded with another interviewer and a brand new set of cameras, but he walked in a different direction, away from the crowd.

You were confused at the racer breaking the long chain of interviews happening on race day.

At the very edge of the camera, you could see the racer joining another man, adorned in a suit, turning his head sideways, but you couldn’t recognize who that was.

You whipped out your laptop. Maybe you missed an upcoming rookie the last year or there must’ve been a change you missed in the racing industry.

Your mind buzzed remembering the blurry man putting his arm around the rookie racer before your ringtone shouted at you.

Life is a Highway started to play as Jason’s contact picture brightened on the screen, a nice side view picture of his smiling face when you took him out for dinner.

You quickly picked up.

“Hey Jay! How’s Australia?” You gleefully asked, contrasting glancing back and forth to the TV screen and your laptop before the camera changed to the racetrack, no longer seeing the mysterious men.

“It’s fun when Roy isn’t talking his ass off.” Jason’s voice faded as he yelled at Roy to back off from him. “I gotta race soon, but I just wanted to hear ya before I had to leave. God, I miss you.”

Your breath hitched hearing Jason be so direct. You tried to reason with yourself that it was from the adrenaline before the race, but it made you feel like you were floating off the couch.

“I miss you too. Maybe when you have a chance to get back here, we can go out to eat like we normally do.” You suggested, a little more brightness in your voice.

You watched the compilation of Jason’s previous races playing on the screen. You saw him zooming down the narrow lanes at horrifying speeds as you heard him softly speak to you through your phone.

“I wanna fly you out here before then. I mean, I’ll be down for Vegas, but that’s too long. I gotta get you down here next to me.” Jason’s voice smoothly went in and out of your ears.

Your felt yourself reddening at his delightful words to you.

“I’ll see what I can do about work leave, but maybe i’ll take a couple sick days?” You spoke to Jason, happiness surging through you. “I would really love to fly out there.”

A loud engine roared through your phone, cutting off Jason’s voice briefly.

“Shit, sorry about that, I gotta go. I lo—” Jason hesitated before he was about to end the call, following up by several louder engines revving, overshadowing his voice despite how close he was to the phone. “I, uh, I’ll call you later.”

“Stay safe, Jay.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Beep.

The call clicked to end. No longer hearing the bustle around Jason as he was inching closer to his race.

Your heart beat rapidly in your ears as you continued to hold your phone in your hand despite the call ending moments ago.

You can’t assume.

There are numerous words that start with that sound. Maybe it was a mistake?

—

“What the fuck, Roy?” Jason yelled over Roy revving his engine multiple times. “I was almost done—will you stop—Roy!”

Roy lifted his foot, no longer making the obnoxious noise.

“Get your helmet on, we gotta go. If you win, then you can talk on the phone all ya want.” Roy was ready to pull onto the track. “Unless you want to stay on the phone and I can win this for us?”

Roy laughed as he sped off.

Jason sighed in disbelief as he walked back to get make sure the final checks on his car were done.

Roy was the only one who could compete with him on the track, so maybe his words weren’t just to instigate him.

He needed to focus because he wanted to see you and win while you were with him.

Jason put on his helmet, getting any last-minute safety precautions checked before he got the signal to drive out.

Tag List: @jaybirdstreet @kalzzen @meowkn @velvetberries @i0lovepink00 @rayaskoalaland @spidernuggets @janybabyy @deimks @yasmin-oviedo @bigraga-sk @indulgentdaydream @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @idontknowanythingsblog @xakilicious @livvyliv15 @whatsupstark @maxi-ride @kolmikaelsonslover

[untitled-tmnt-blog]

Now that 2024 is coming to a close:

1) Of everything you've made this year, which ones are you the most proud of?

2) What are a few of your favorite things (art, comics, fics, etc) that someone else has made this past year?

As far as my own stuff, I would have to say:

This Hide and Seek animatic -- I love making animatics, but they end up taking me a LONG time! That does mean that when I finally finish one though, it's very rewarding to see the full thing!

This scene, for the rottmnt cut intro project -- It's a short scene, but was a lot of fun to do! I also think it shows how much I've improved, even from my first scene for this same project.

This hardcopy of IMBI -- I'd never tried bookbinding before, but I had so much fun learning how and was really happy with how it turned out!

These mixed media collages -- It was one of my first times experimenting with mixed media, and I think they ended up looking pretty cool! Plus, just like the others... I had a lot of fun with it! (I suppose it makes sense that my favorite pieces are kind of just the ones I had the most fun doing, huh?)

And then, for other people's stuff... I'm sorry, but I'm just so indecisive! I have to at least pick a few things from each category!

"Long" Comics:

Here There Be Turtles (by @theelvishfiddler) -- This is hands-down one of the most impressive fan comics I've ever seen! Not only does it have incredible art, but the characterization is spot-on, and the storyline is so engaging that I am absolutely dying to see what happens next after every single update! I've seen people saying that the quality is even better than the official comics, and... yeah, no doubt about it, it really is! This comic is INSANELY good!

You've Been Portal Jacked! (by @wickcipher) -- This comic has such an interesting premise, with an artstyle that I love and SO much potential! I was immediately hooked by the first chapter, and was so excited to see it continue! Very much looking forward to seeing where things go from here!

"Short" Comics:

This Raph comic (by @e-turn) -- Raph and Leo tug at my heartstrings sooooo much! And the effect of Raph's time spent under the krangs' control is something that I never get tired of seeing explored. He loves his brothers so much, and would never EVER want to hurt them... but now he has these memories of himself doing exactly that, and those memories are just so much at war with who he is as a person, and AAAARRRRRGGHHHH!!!! I love it.

This Splinter comic (by @charcoaldustonmyfingers) -- THE EMOTIONS. I enjoy seeing this one every time it crosses my dash, and it has yet to lose its impact. Splinter loves his boys so much!!

This alternate movie ending, and part 2 (by @magisav) -- Beautiful, and heartbreaking. Both at the same time. The look on Leo's face is ingrained in my memory forever.

This Firefight fan comic (by @sludge-city) -- This one is such a well-done adaptation of some of the most emotional moments in this incredible fic! It was heartbreaking enough reading it the first time, and seeing those emotions depicted on Leo and Donnie's faces ripped my heart to shreds.

This redrawn IDW scene (by @purplepixel) -- The redrawn panels are beautiful, and I love the coloring! But also... man, this hurts so much knowing what comes next! Donnie, nooooo!

Multi-Chapter Fics:

Emotional Support Water Bottles (by @dandylovesturtles) -- This series is easily one of my favorites! Poor Leo goes through so much... and yet even when it's over, that kind of experience will undoubtedly leave some scars behind. Not physical scars, but very real nonetheless, and I've loved seeing Leo and his family try to navigate their way through that.

Firefight (by @remedyturtles) -- A true classic, at this point. With probably some of the most intensely emotional scenes I have ever read. Highly recommend, if you can handle that level of hurt before the comfort!

DFL's Whumptober 2024 (by @daflangstlairde-art) -- Technically a series of fics, which are unrelated to one another. But they are related in one important way: making me FEEL THINGS. Each one is so well-written, and I've been hooked all the way from the first fic to the last!

Oneshots:

The Shadows May Go (by @remedyturtles) -- This fic. THIS FIC. It made me cry. Splinter loves his sons so much, and even in his darkest moments (perhaps especially in his darkest moments), Leo knows that.

Now the Darkness Comes Alive (@goodlucktai) -- The role-reversal that I didn't know I needed. It's beautifully written, and like I said, Raph and Leo tug at my heartstrings so much! I started drawing something for this fic a while back, and desperately want to finish when I have some more free time on my hands again!!

Bed Sheets (by @dandylovesturtles) -- Splinter is not a perfect parent, by any means. But he loves his sons so much!! This fic is practically the embodiment of those two things, and it makes me emotional every. Single. Time.

Art:

This drawing of April and Karai (by @darkpolicepsycho) -- absolutely beautiful!! I love how you can just feel the power of Karai's ninpo flowing through April.

This drawing of Raph with cherry blossoms (by @pelmenya-owo) -- soooooo pretty!!! The colors. The lighting. I cannot possibly overstate how gorgeous this drawing is!!

These Undertale-style drawings of April, Raph, Leo, Donnie, and Mikey (also by @pelmenya-owo) -- I've never played Undertale, but I love these little animations so much!! Very cool.

This drawing of Samurai Leo (by @kathaynesart) -- I showed this drawing to my husband, and he immediately asked for it on a T-shirt. It is PHENOMENAL.

This Hollow Mind drawing (by @grey-viridian) -- I haven't read the fic that this is from yet, but oh man, the emotion in this scene!! Family protecting family. I love it so much.

This drawing of Leo (by @oh-lordy-lord-save-me) -- The colors. The colors!! The absolutely STUNNING colors!!!

This TNV art (by @windide-blog) -- I'll admit, I still need to read TNV. But even without context, the scene depicted here is amazingly well-done! I can only hope to be able to draw scenes as beautiful as this one day.

This art of Leo falling through the sky (by @sad-leon) -- The background is beautiful. The imagery is beautiful. The animation is beautiful. All around: beautiful.

This drawing of FMA Sprout, plus this one (by @intotheelliwoods) -- I just love these so much! Brotherhood is probably my favorite anime, and man, Sprout makes a great Edward Elric.

This drawing for the Turtles Together zine (by @andva-ri) -- This one has everything. Splinter. April. Draxum. Big Mama. The turtles, of course! I love all the different scenes, and how seamlessly they come together into an absolutely gorgeous art piece! This is a level of skill that I can only hope to one day come close to reaching!

This drawing, also for the Turtles Together zine (by @staticwither) -- Just look at those bright, beautiful colors! Truly incredible. This scene was already great in the finale, but this art piece somehow manages to take that energy and multiply it tenfold! It's beautiful.

This drawing of Leo with water lilies (by @tangledinink) -- I absolutely LOVE the paint-like style of this one! The level of detail on this is insane, and it's just downright one of the most beautiful art pieces I think I've ever seen. I want it on a throw blanket.

This Kingdom Hearts AU drawing (by @boxfullaturtles) -- I have very minimal knowledge of Kingdom Hearts. But even without that context, this drawing is just SO GOOD! I love the stained-glass design! And the way all the characters are in their own circles, and Leo's head is lined up inside of one as well, but continues down into a full-body drawing. Gorgeous.

AUs:

Posessed AU (by @grey-viridian) -- Such an interesting premise!! It somehow manages to be absolutely heartbreaking, but also so much fun at the same time.

Tiz Sep AU (by @tizeline) -- I love the comic. I love the characterizations. I was hooked on this AU from the moment Leo starting infodumping about Sonic! But also, Mikey campaigning for president of the multiverse while Donnie works against him was perfection. I just love seeing these characters do literally anything, because they're just so enjoyable to watch!

"The Besties" (2AL by @intotheelliwoods & SLAU by @dianagj-art) -- I'm aware this is like, an AU crossover within an AU kind of situation, but man is it so much fun! And also, so much more emotional than you'd expect turtle multiverse shenanigans to be.

Animations:

Rottmnt Restored (by @emichen88 & @powerauerart) -- Incredible. Amazing. Phenomenal. Astounding. 100% would watch again and again and again.

This JJK WIP (by @seasaltcosmos) -- I don't care if it's unfinished, I LOVE this!!

That was... slightly more than "a few." And I'm sure I still forgot some. I could go on and on about all the awesome stuff people here have made, but I had to cut it off somewhere!

[katyswrites]

don't call me 'baby'

PART 9 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst (so much angst, sorry), unprotected p in v, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), cum play, ddlg dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, kind of a derogatory reference to sex work, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 5.4k

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 9 | forever the name on my lips

“So - Robin knows that this surprise party isn’t actually a surprise, right?” you asked.

Steve laughed over the phone.

“Uh, no - she 100 percent thinks you have no clue.”

You groaned. “I’m terrible at lying to her -”

“You’re not lying - look, you should see how excited she is -”

You rolled your eyes, putting the phone down on your desk and putting him on speaker. 

“You’re an enabler, you know that?”

“I am not -”

“You so are!” you retorted. “Every year, Robin tries to make my birthday a bigger thing than it is - it’s always over-the-top, and never what I ask for. I usually just like, want to go get drinks, or watch my favorite movie at home, but she decides to invite over 40 of our closest friends instead, or pull out some trick to outdo the year before. Did you know that our first year we lived together, she almost burned our place down by putting 18 trick candles on my cake?”

“Your point being?”

You sighed, leaning over the desk closer to the mirror to put on your mascara.

“My point being that you’ve taken a monster, and given her a real budget this time.”

He laughed again, and the sound of it made your heart ache. You took a deep breath, thankful he couldn’t see you right now.

“Look, I think she’s doing this because she loves you - plus, she’s mad that I stole you away for your actual birthday, so this was my bribe.”

You sighed, stepping back to pull on your dress - another new one you had commissioned, thanks to Steve’s credit card.

“I’m going to really have to practice my surprised face,” you said sarcastically. 

You reached for your earrings on the dresser, the ones Steve had bought you for the gala. You didn’t love the idea of walking around with a million dollars on your ears, but it was a special occasion, after all.

“What has she told you you’re allegedly doing?” he asked, voice tinny and slightly muffled through the phone’s speaker.

“Just meeting some friends for dinner - but, she said to dress a little nicer than usual. I can’t believe she thinks I don’t suspect anything.”

“Maybe she does - maybe you’re both putting up a silly charade for no reason, just to spare feelings.”

You nearly scoffed, but stopped yourself - he had no clue how much you were doing that with him already.

It had been nearly a week since you and Steve had returned from your birthday getaway. Since then, you had been spiraling. Every time you thought of him, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. When you were with him, it felt so right - when you were alone, you felt lonelier than you ever had before. You gave it a few days, just to see if the blissful environment of being on vacation was just tricking you into thinking  you had real feelings for Steve. After all, that wasn’t reality… right?

But now, nearly a week later, you nearly felt sick when you thought about him - the sight of him made your heart flutter, every nice gesture and sweet compliment made your stomach flip and your face bloom with heat. You were hopelessly in love - you were so stupid.

Since the trip, you and Steve hadn’t spent much time together. Part of it was him getting slammed with work - a relief, honestly. It had given you time to try and have some rational thought, and sort out your feelings. You getting your period right upon return to Rome also put a dent in things - you hadn’t exactly been feeling up to sex, which Steve had been understanding about. But, this had only made things worse - he still took you out to dinner a few days ago, insisting on still wanting to see you, if you were up for it. Afterwards, you had gone back to his place and just put on a movie, falling asleep on the couch. It was the first time you had ever slept over without having sex - somehow, more intimate than anything you had done up to that point.  In short - you were screwed. 

But, now you had to go to this godforsaken birthday party, with Steve in front of all of your friends, and act like everything was fine. In some ways, it was. But in others… the end of summer was fast approaching. And, the thought of that left a pit in your stomach.

“You still there?” Steve’s voice asked.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, zipping up the back of your dress. “Sorry, I’m just getting ready -”

“What are you wearing?” he asked jokingly.

“Shut up -”

“Right - that’s for later,” he said. You could practically hear him smirking through the phone. You roll your eyes again.

“Well, I’m ready to go, and I’m sure Robin is itching to get me out the door, so - see you in a bit?”

“Yes - except, you don’t know that,” he said.

“Oh of course - well, I’ll be sure to act surprised.”

“I’m sure you’ll kill it - see you, bye,” he said, promptly hanging up.

You didn’t take time to dwell on it, how formal he still could be sometimes - reminding you of exactly who you were to him, you supposed - as Robin started knocking on your door, asking if you were ready to go.

“Just a minute!” you cried. You reached for the dresser for a final thing - the ruby necklace Steve had given you for your birthday. When you opened the bedroom door to an impatient Robin in the doorway, you were clasping it on.

“Jesus - where did you get that?” she asked, gesturing to the jewel on your sternum.

“Birthday gift from Steve.”

Robin crossed her arms, shaking her head.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing, it’s just - how’s that going?”

“Fine,” you lied. “I told you, the vacation was fun -”

“Doesn’t it all just seem - like a bit too much?” she asked cautiously.

“I - what do you mean -”

“Well - the trip, the gifts, being with him for hours on the phone every night - it just feels like he’s more than a - benefactor, sugar daddy, whatever you want to call it -”

You felt your face heat.

“Robin - no - it’s just - it’s an arrangement, and it’s going the way we both said it would -”

Robin just stared at you for a moment, and sighed with defeat. 

“Whatever you say. Just - be careful, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt again -”

“I’m fine,” you said firmly. “I promise.”

A lie.

“C’mon - let’s go out,” you said, quickly changing the subject and heading for the door.

Robin didn’t get the chance to argue further.

*****

You took the bus towards the city center, walking a few blocks before reaching one of your favorite restaurants - you and Robin frequented the bar more than the tables, often going there to celebrate the end of the semester, or to drink your sorrows away after a breakup or shitty week.

“You could have just said we were coming here,” you said, letting Robin take your hand to lead you inside.

Robin just shrugged, and you could tell she was fighting a grin - she really is terrible at keeping secrets. But, you did your best to keep your face neutral.

When you walked inside, the place was dimly lit. You could practically feel Robin’s anticipation behind you, and felt inwardly thankful that she couldn’t see your face. Then, the lights flashed on, and you were bombarded with an uproaring “SURPRISE!”

Even though you were anticipating it, you still jumped - it was far more people than you had been expecting. 

“Holy shit -”

Robin was practically bouncing, grinning. “Happy birthday, babe.”

You shook your head. “I - did you invite like, everyone we know?”

She nodded excitedly. “Mm hm! And the whole place is rented out, so it’s just us - open bar too!”

How much did this cost Steve? you wondered.

“Robin - you really didn’t have to do all this -”

“Oh hush - your boy toy took you away from me on your birthday, so we’re celebrating now.”

You laughed, pulling Robin in for a quick hug.

“Thanks, Robs.”

She was positively beaming, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her that you’ve known about this for two weeks, that Steve had told you when he and Robin had been texting, how he had put his credit card down for the whole thing. So, you just smiled, and squeezed her tighter.

“Well,” she said when she pulled away, “you need a drink - your usual?”

You nodded, watching as she headed over to the bar. Soon enough, it was a whirlwind of friends, classmates, old co-workers, and essentially anyone you would even consider a friendly acquaintance swarming you, giving you a hug and wishing you happy birthday. There was even a DJ, playing all of your favorite music, the tables cleared to the sides to make the space empty enough to fit everyone - you were certain the evening would descend into dancing soon enough. Robin soon enough returned with your drink, and you let yourself actually relax. 

Then, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, and you feel yourself jump. You turn, smiling.

“Hey there, baby,” Steve said, pulling you close.

When did he start calling you that outside of the bedroom?

“Fancy seeing you here,” you joked. He smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“What do you think of your party?” he asked.

“I think you’ve been too good to me.”

“Well, this was all Robin - I just helped.”

“If that’s what you’re telling yourself - I - thank you,” you whispered. “You really didn’t have to.”

He waved you off. “Nonsense - I like spoiling you. You look beautiful, by the way,” he added, his fingers coming to brush the pendant hanging from your neck.

The butterflies were back. Fuck.

“Only because you give me such pretty things to wear,” you retorted.

He laughed. “I’ll buy you every pretty thing you want, baby.”

Your heart fluttered, and you looked down into your glass to avoid eye contact. 

Then, a familiar voice was calling your name. You looked up, and smiled.

“Eddie?”

“Bella, look at you!” he said, bounding over and pulling you out of Steve’s grasp and into a tight hug. You laughed, Eddie practically lifting you off of your feet.

“You’re stunning, as always -” he says once he puts you down.

“Oh, shut up - flattery will get you nowhere -”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Can’t blame a man for trying, right?”

He then glanced over your shoulder.

“Steve, right?”

Steve nodded stiffly, forcing a smile.

“You two look gorgeous - want a picture?” Eddie asked, holding up the camera hanging around his neck.

“Oh, sure - Steve?” you asked, turning to silently plead with him.

Then he was back by your side again, arm snaking around your waist and pulling you close.

“Smile!” Eddie said from where he was crouching behind the lens. You did, posing for the photo. The shutter started rapid-fire clicking, and after a moment, you felt Steve’s lips on your cheek, and your face heated. You did your best to ignore it, letting Eddie get a few more shots as you pressed closer into him.

“What a beautiful couple!” Eddie proclaimed, grinning into the viewfinder. 

“Oh - Eddie, we’re -”

“She’s doing the heavy-lifting there!” Steve joked. You froze, unsure how to even address that. But Eddie just chuckled, saying something along the lines of you didn’t need to tell me that! and walking away, making a beeline for the bar.

Before you could say anything to Steve, Robin is running over, taking you by the hands.

“Sorry Steve, can I steal her?” 

He nodded with a smile, letting go of you as Robin pulled you through the crowd, babbling on about how Vickie’s ex had the audacity to show up, and how someone brought their boyfriend uninvited, and a hundred other things you would normally care about.

Steve hadn’t said no when Eddie called you a couple - what the fuck?

But, the next few hours were a whirlwind - you had lost count of how many drinks you had, catching up with friends you hadn’t seen all summer, learning who's dating who, what their plans were for the upcoming semester, asking how you’re doing - you decidedly did not mention that you had spent all summer as the mistress of a man a decade older than you - still, it felt nice to see your friends again, to catch up and try to relax. You ate your fill in the food spread that had been put out, all of your favorite things from the menu, a few extra things that Robin must have requested specially. So many of your friends remarked on how well you looked, how you were glowing, admiring your jewelry and asking where you got it (which, you pointedly lied about). Even Jonathan Byers showed up, the sweet yet introverted guy who you had befriended in one of your art courses. You were chatting with him and Eddie about their upcoming photography portfolios when you saw Steve again, approaching with a new drink for you.

“Oh, hey,” you said, accepting it gratefully.

“Having fun?” Steve asked, casting a glance to your friends.

“Yeah! Uh, Steve, you know Eddie, and this is Jonathan - not sure if you two met yet.”

“Nice to meet you,” Steve said, extending his hand. Jonathan hesitated, then took it, letting Steve shake it firmly.

Then, Steve’s lips pressed to your ear, whispering, “Want to dance?”

You bit your lip, nodding, and bid farewell to the other boys for now. The makeshift dance floor was starting to fill up now, your friends moving along to the music and spilling drinks onto the floor. 

“So, does Eddie know how to button a shirt?” Steve asked sarcastically.

You huffed.

“Don’t tell me you’re still jealous -”

“I - I’m not. He’s just - he’s such a flirt -”

‘He’s a flirt with everyone - he’d shoot his shot with you, if I left you two alone.”

Steve’s face turned red at that. 

“I - uh -”

“Besides,” you whispered, pulling him closer by his shirt collar, admiring the way his chest hair just barely peeked out of the open top button, “I kind of like how easily he gets you riled up.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

You closed your eyes, swaying to the music.

“When was the last time you did something like this?” you asked over the cacophony, gesturing to the club-like atmosphere around you. He laughed.

“I’m not that old - but, probably not since a little after I finished college… when I started working, I didn’t really have the energy for… all of this. And… Nancy never liked it much anyway.”

You felt your heart sink, and shook your head. You were properly tipsy, had the confidence to pull Steve toward you, taking his hands in yours. 

“Then - dance with me like you’re 20 again, yeah?”

“Again, I’m not old -”

“Will you just shut up and dance?” you said, pulling him close. He obliged, letting you bury your face into his neck as you swayed along to the music.

He twirled you, watched on fondly as you found your friends on the dance floor, and laughed as he saw how excited each new song made you. At one point, you caught him looking at you in the corner of your eye - he wore an expression so soft, so sincere, that he was almost unrecognizable.

“What is it?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing - I just -”

“Where’s the birthday girl?” Robin’s voice called from the other end of the room. The music faded, and she came out from behind the bar with a massive cake, lit with what you guessed were probably 21 candles.

“Everyone! 1 - 2 - 3-”

Then everyone was singing you Happy Birthday, pushing you towards the front to where Robin stood, wearing a wide smile. 

“Make a wish,” she whispered.

You sighed, knowing exactly what to wish for, and leaned down to blow out the candles to boisterous applause.

“Chocolate cake with mousse, of course - your favorite,” Robin said, serving you the first slice.

“I’d expect nothing less,” you replied, accepting it gratefully - it’s been the kind of cake you’ve gotten for every birthday for as long as you remembered. Even your parents remembered that each year, to their credit.

“Want a slice?” you asked, turning to Steve.

“Oh - no, I’m okay -”

“At least taste a bite?”

He sighed, smiling in defeat.

“Yeah, okay.”

You took a forkful and held it out to him, feeding it into his mouth. He groaned at the taste, fighting a smile.

“Yeah, okay - that’s delicious -”

“I told you -”

Then Steve reached out, gently wiping away what you presumed was some smeared chocolate from the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Did you have a nice birthday party?” he asked softly.

“Yeah - I did. Just - everything for my birthday was wonderful. I - thank you.”

Then he was pulling you close and kissing you, on the lips, in front of everyone. You let your eyes flutter shut and leaned into the kiss, tasting just a bit of chocolate on his lips, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne.

You pulled away, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“What was that for?”

He shrugged.

“I just really wanted to do that - is that okay?”

You nodded, eyes flitting to his lips again as your stomach did a somersault. You were so aware of eyes on you two, some whispers floating through the room despite the loud music, but you pulled him down for another kiss again, lacing your hands around the back of his neck.

“Take me home with you,” you whispered against his lips.

“Now?”

“Now.”

Then he was grabbing your hand, only slowing down as you bid goodbye to Robin, thanking her for the party, and you both practically bolted towards the door.

*****

It was nearly midnight by the time you reached Steve’s place - not that it mattered. You had jumped him nearly the second you got in the car he had called, closing the privacy shield between yourselves and the driver. You technically behaved yourselves - clothes stayed on, at least. But you kissed him like you needed him more than oxygen, all tongue and desperate gasps as you moved to straddle his lap in the backseat. You were grinding on his thigh, palming him through his pants like horny teenagers in their mom’s old Honda. 

You tore out of the car like bats out of Hell when you reached his apartment building, only maintaining self-control in the elevator thanks to the old man who got on with you and rode it most of the way. The moment you tumbled through Steve’s door, you were all over each other, shedding clothes in a trail leading to the bedroom.

“I missed this,” you breathed against his mouth, shedding him of his button-down.

“Me too,” he said, reaching to unzip your dress and let it fall to the floor.

“Steve - I want to thank you - for my birthday party - for everything -”

“Mm, okay - yeah baby, whatever you want -”

It was desperate, messy, and filled with carnal need, Steve tearing your undergarments off as he practically threw you onto the bed. He wasted no time, eating you out like your pussy gave him oxygen, making you cum on his tongue twice before even taking his pants off. You pulled on his hair, crying out his name as he coaxed your orgasms out of you, slowly kissing his way back up your body until his face hovered above yours. He was grinning, his chin glistening with your release, and you could have just stared at that forever.

“Steve, please -” you begged, “I need you -”

“I know, baby,” he said, crawling over you. “I just wanted to take care of you first, it’s okay -”

Then he was kissing you, fumbling with his belt and shedding himself of his boxers, pulling you close.

It had only been a week, but you nearly screamed when he entered you, gasping at the stretch.

“Fuck - you’re always so tight and perfect, baby - I haven’t fucked you since we got back to the city, it was drivin’ me nuts -”

“Me too,” you mewled, clawing at his back as he began to thrust into you. “Steve - please fuck me, please -”

And he did. But, the earlier desperation had faded - he rolled his hips into yours slowly, holding you close as he groaned into your skin. He pressed kisses to your neck, showering you with praises and sweet nothings in your ear. It didn’t feel like primal, needy sex - it almost felt like making love. He was soft, gentle, but knew your body better than anyone by now, touching you in all the right places.

“You’re so beautiful, so perfect -” he murmured, smirking as you moaned at a particularly deep thrust, “my whole life, I’ve been looking for a pussy like yours, baby -”

“I - ah! Fuck, I - I know what you mean. You fuck me like nobody else - daddy, I -”

“I know, baby,” he said, pressing gentle kisses across your face. “Look at you, wearin’ the fuckin’ jewelry I bought you as I fuck you - I love when you do that - you’ve been so good, letting me spoil you all summer - like a good girl, I can’t believe it -”

He was rambling now, and you knew that meant he was close. You wrapped your legs around his torso, digging your heels into his back to pull him in impossibly deeper. Pleasure pulsed through your body, heat gathering in your abdomen, and you started meeting his thrusts with your hips in earnest.

“You close?” he asked. 

“Yes - I’m going to cum all over your cock, sir -”

“Thank god - I’m not going to last much longer -”

“I know - let go,” you said, pulling him down for a messy kiss. He groaned against your lips, his cock twitching a bit inside you.

“I just wanna stay buried in this pussy, baby - forever -”

“I know,” you whispered. “I never want this to end.”

You never wanted any of it to end. 

But you held onto him with desperation, losing yourself in the feel of him, his scent, the sound of his voice -

All that was running through your mind was I love you I love you IloveyouIloveyouIlo-

Then you were coming, convulsing around him with a scream. You arched off of the mattress, burying your face in his shoulder as your orgasm washed over you in waves, ebbing and flowing gently instead of crashing all at once. He followed moments later, hips stuttering as he filled you, your name on his lips like it was a sacred thing.

You both stayed like that for a while - you stared at the ceiling, soothingly running your fingers through his hair as he lazily kissed your neck. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, but eventually he began to soften, forcing him to pull out of you and roll over onto your back by your side. 

You turned your head on the pillow to face him - he was blissed out, smiling as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I think that was our best yet,” he whispered. 

You hummed in agreement - you had felt it the night of your birthday in the villa, too - something had shifted in bed. Yyou couldn’t quite place it. But, you knew it scared the hell out of you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, brushing the backs of his fingers along your arm.

“Mm, yeah - just thinking.”

“About what?” he asked, propping himself on his elbow. “What’s going on in that pretty little mind?”

You could’ve cried from the gentleness in his voice, your heart fluttering a bit as you looked at him - you did your best to memorize his face, the way his hair fell, every freckle and mole along his body - and it hit you that this was ending soon. You didn’t even realize you had started to cry - but, hot tears were rolling down your cheeks, and you pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

“Whoa - you okay? What’s going on?” he asked - he sounded terrified.

“It’s nothing - don’t worry about it -” you said, sitting up.

“Baby, you’re crying - of course I’m going to be worried -”

“Why?” you cried, the question coming out harsher than you had intended.

His face flashed with confusion and concern, and he sat up, too.

“What do you mean why?”

“Because - because you’re not supposed to care!”

“I - I don’t understand -”

“Steve! What the fuck are we doing here?”

“We - we were having a nice night, I thought - now I don’t -”

You wiped your tears, groaning with frustration.

“Steve - I don’t know how to be around you. You said this was just for sex, right? All fun, no feelings, all that bullshit? We literally wrote it down -”

His face went more neutral, and he nodded.

“Well, yes - that was the arrangement -”

“So then you don’t get to ask me what’s wrong - you don’t get to ask me how my day was, plan my birthday party with my best friend, call me nearly every night, name a goddamn star after me -”

“Whoa - you don’t like that I did those things?”

“No!” you screamed, frustrated. “I don’t like that you’re being my boyfriend!”

“I - I’m not your boyfriend.”

“Oh, you’ve made that very clear - so you can stop acting like it!”

You didn’t realize how loud your voice had gotten, your breakdown quickly pivoting to unbridled anger and frustration.

“I’m not - so what, you want me to fuck you and just send you home? Like a goddamn prostitute?”

“Well maybe if you had done that in the first place you would’ve saved yourself a whole lot of trouble!” you screamed.

He went silent for a moment, just staring at you. You sighed, pressing your fingers to your temples.

“Steve, look - this summer - I mean, it’s been amazing. I really mean that. But, the summer is ending soon - when do you even go back to the States?”

“September 1st,” he said quietly.

You froze, your heart plummeting. “Jesus Christ, that’s in like two weeks - when were you going to tell me?”

He stared down at his hands, shaking his head.

“I - I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you - I just wanted you to enjoy tonight, and not ruin it, I know it sounds ridiculous, but I figured if I didn’t tell you, it would make it less real -”

“So you were just going to disappear on me?”

“No! No - I -”

He throws his head into his hands.

“Steve - look me in the eyes and tell me this is still just an arrangement for you.”

A moment of silence passes - there it was, your cards laid on the table. Your heart was thudding in your chest, waiting for his answer.

He sighed, and looked over to meet your gaze. 

“Of course it isn’t.”

Your stomach flipped, and you felt like you were going to be sick - oh God -

“Then - what the fuck do we do?”

He shook his head.

“I - I don’t know,” he admitted. “I - I don’t know what the fuck is even going on. I told myself I wouldn’t get… attached, and now -”

You scoffed.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s just - attached? Like a fucking dog you found on the street and have to give back to its owners or something?”

“Well, what would you call it?”

You paused - you considered confessing everything, that you were past the point of falling for him. No, you couldn’t - you needed to keep that close to your chest, not give him the upper hand.

“Steve - maybe we should just end this,” you said, the words feeling like a knife to the chest as they left your mouth.

“What? No - I - I don’t want to -”

“Steve - you said it yourself - if we got any personal feelings, we would stop the whole thing, before it got too far - we’re only delaying the inevitable anyway -”

“Come back with me,” he blurted out.

You stop mid-sentence, eyes widening.

“I - what?”

“Come back to Chicago with me - we can just do it. I can take care of you -”

“Steve - I can’t -”

“Why not?”

You just laughed dryly.

“Because - I have a life here. I have friends, a semester left before I get my degree -”

“You won’t need to work if you -”

“You really don’t get it, do you? I want to finish school, actually achieve something, and do something that matters to me. I know, you look down on me as some downtrodden peasant or something -”

“No, that’s not it -”

“But I’m smart, and when I’m done with school - I may not be rich like you, but I’ll be able to work for a living, and actually support myself. I don’t want to just exist for you -”

“I didn’t mean that,” he said - you were both raising your voices again. “This summer…it’s the happiest I’ve been in a long time. Maybe ever, actually. I just - I want to help you -”

“Well stop! I don’t need you!” you screamed.

He went silent for a moment.

“That’s what Nancy said, too,” he said quietly.

You sighed, your heart breaking for him.

“Steve - I didn’t know -”

“Maybe there’s a reason,” he continued, staring down to avoid your gaze. “I mean - you’re right - I’m meant to be alone.”

“I never said that -”

“You didn’t have to.”

You both sat in silence for a moment, unable to say anything else.

“Steve - I’m sorry that this is where the night went. But… we both knew this was coming. I - I think we’re going to both get hurt if we try to keep it going.”

He nodded, shoulders sagging.

“You’re probably right.”

There it was. The moment you had been dreading. 

The silence was deafening - neither of you daring to look at one another, letting the weight sink in of everything just said. You were certain you were going to be sick. 

“I - I should probably give these back,” you said quietly, gesturing to the earrings and necklace. You reached up to take them off, but he gently placed his hand on yours to stop you.

“No - keep it. Keep everything.”

“Steve -”

“No - nothing that I gave you was a loan. It’s yours. Keep onto the credit card, too.”

“Steve - I can’t do that -”

“Sure you can. Only use it for emergencies, if it makes you feel better to do that. As long as you don’t go over the limit… it’s yours.”

You shook your head.

“I can’t -”

“Please,” he said, eyes pleading. “At least until you’re done with school - focus on your studies, I’ll take care of it.”

“But - I’m not giving you anything in return -”

“Doesn’t matter. I promised to help you with school, and - I’m a man of my word.”

You sighed with defeat.

“I - I think I should go.”

“Probably best,” he said coldly. You couldn’t even blame him for that.

You gathered your things quickly, pulling your dress back on. He rose to follow you to the door, pulling on his boxers as he went. He stood in the doorway as you left, his face stoic - was he angry? Or did he just feel nothing? Maybe the latter - you were in love… and he had grown attached, whatever that meant.

“I guess this is goodbye,” you whispered.

“I suppose so.”

He won’t look at you.

“Steve - you’re going to find someone someday who’s right for you, okay? Someone you’ll actually want to be with. Then you won’t need - you won’t need someone like me. You’ll forget all about this - I know you will.”

Something softened in his face, and he shook his head.

“I somehow doubt that.”

You stared down at the ground.

“I guess this is goodbye,” you murmured.

He nodded.

“I wouldn’t change any of it,” he said quietly.

You could actually feel your heart breaking, crackling and splitting like it was made of porcelain. You still avoided eye contact, afraid you’d cry if you looked at him.

“My car can take you home,” he added.  “I don’t want you taking the bus this late, okay?”

You nodded solemnly. As you turned to leave, he said one more thing that stopped you in your tracks.

“Wait - I just wanted to say -”

He stopped for a moment, running his hand through his hair as he took a deep breath.

“I wish you well.”

That was it - the final nail in the coffin. The end of a failed negotiation, a transaction. You nodded firmly, turning quickly on your heels and walking straight ahead to the elevator, refusing to look back at him.

The moment you slid into the car, you gave the driver your address and closed the privacy shield again. But now, it was so you could sob into your hands, feeling your heart break in half as you pulled away from his apartment for the last time.

author's note: hi everyone - sorry about this chapter. The next part will be the finale - plus, an epilogue. I'll probably just write those together and post them in quick succession. Don't panic - you guys know I don't like writing sad endings (or if I do, I leave massive warnings). So, hang tight - it's going to be okay. Please let me know your thoughts - comments, reblogs, and messages are always appreciated!

[chynandri]

I’ve got so much on my mind! Eva/Neil stuff To the moon beach episode spoilers

While I’ve always liked the Eva/Neil ship I have seen it as more one sided, or maybe just UNdecided. Neil I think it got increasingly obvious that he liked her, but it was hard to tell with Eva. I think in this game she definitely showed Interest in him. peeking at his shirtlessness and whatever’s in his pants at the pool lmao. plus wanting to believe the real Neil would want to protect her and do nice gestures. I think my most satisfying personal interpretation is that she’s just isn’t all that sure how she feels about him besides that obviously, this was her best childhood friend. After all I think it’s hard to have feelings for someone who was so distant and secretive at the same time. But there’s definitely still Something there that just… never got the chance to become something more.

I think a feeling of ‘incompleteness’ is prominent after finishing this game. Somehow having some of the truth confirmed/spelled out to you just leaves me with more questions. And perhaps that’s the whole point… the incompleteness of their feelings for each other, the incompleteness of the beach trip, the incompleteness of the simulated beach trip, the incompleteness of Neil himself as a person. I feel like the life lesson here was that you got to be ok with not having all the closure but realize that things have an end in spite of it. And you’ve got to move on once you’re ready to. The game giving you one final chance to linger on a perfect moment of Neil and Eva at their most vulnerable, letting You choose when the story ends was really profound. It’s like Kan Gao was saying to you ‘yeah, you’ve known all along Neil was dying/is dead. And that this series wasn’t going to last forever. You can keep returning to it again and again, but that fact remains and eventually you will stop playing the games and move on.’

I’m not sure if I’m articulating the metaness of this ending well enough, but Eva and the player feel in parallel here. Eva’s relationship with Neil, and the players relationship to this series.

Just wow. What an incredible ending. It almost felt too quick that the biggest theory of Neil being dead all along was confirmed but, it’s not too quick at all considering this story’s been going on for 13 years I guess. Still leaves me in shock even though that’s honestly what the games have been Strongly hinting at.

Will try to remember To the Moon for as long as I can. What an impactful game series…

[youcouldmakealife]

PSA

The recent ask about SAIT gives me an opportunity I have been, well. Not waiting for, exactly, but preparing for, maybe?

TL;DR: Gritty's delayed indefinitely (not the 'indefinitely' that's a cowardly 'forever', the kind that actually does mean 'we don't know for how long')

More detail below.

SAIT is, at this point in time, projected to have 20-24 parts in 2024, rather than the 11-13 I was anticipating. Which is great! I'm genuinely really pleased that it's been cooperating, and I hope you all are too.

But, because those 10 extra parts had to come from somewhere, and it wasn't COTT (at least mostly), that brings us to news many of you likely figured was coming, especially as the year's gone on: Gritty (working title is actually Grit & Determination, like a very Philadelphian Pride & Prejudice) isn't going to be coming in 2024, as I'd been originally planning.

Most of the reason I've put off this Official Delay (other than garden variety procrastination, which can and does strike at will), was because I frankly don't want to delay it, and I was desperately trying to find a way to fit it in.

But SAIT has been going so well that I refuse to slow down at all, for fear I stop the momentum entirely, and I don't want to write less of COTT either. I think ongoing series should pretty much always outrank starting new projects on the whole priority list (or I will literally never finish anything ever again).

And there's another scheduling wrinkle coming, because there will be a Kickstarter coming in 2025, with all the attendant work involved. Add the fact I'm trying to figure out the writing pace that works for me without leading to burnout (and dealing with the frustration of that being slower than I'd like), and I'm hesitant to give a timeline beyond 'TBD'.

But please know that this absolutely isn't a case of 'lost inspiration/will/interest' or the like. It's more a result of me prioritizing certain things higher than I have been, and altering my projected workload to fit those priorities, the number one priority for me since I was diagnosed as a AA battery (autistic with ADHD) being to work at a pace I can sustain and maintain. Sustain and maintain meaning without missing deadlines (like every Kickstarter I have ever done), constantly shuffling projects around like they'll fit if I find the right combo, and risking my own health and happiness by refusing to acknowledge that I don't have the same energy levels as a) neurotypical people and b) myself in my 20s (who frankly didn't have the energy either, which is what led to burnout in the first place).

I'm bummed about it, and I totally understand if you are too, but it's still top of my priority list in the 'future series' category. It's just that the category itself is going to be delayed for a bit, because two series (and then two series plus a Kickstarter project) is all I can handle at the moment.