#gonna try and get the last three days... we'll see

[solarroseart]

Drown

[magicdyke]

realizing i've given myself a 12-hr school day twice a week ... well it's the last semester!

[postracehair]

fracture

max verstappen x reader | 3.5k

max breaks his wrist during the first week of the off-season.

cw: max breaks his arm, r is a bit rattled, some blood, a naked shower, intimacy, mentions of sex

a/n: c'mon. you know he'd be so annoying. good thing we love him. [i wrote this before the season ended and then...never posted it. so, here, have it before we start all this shit over again in a few weeks.]

__

You are not there when it happens.

You're asleep, actually, curled up on Max's couch with the cats while he enjoys the first week of the off-season. The celebrations have ended and there is a great deal of work to be done in the next few months, but everyone gets a little bit of respite.

Vacation will come after the holidays. That's the plan, anyway. The last few days have seen you in Monaco, mostly inside Max's place. Just spending time together, relaxing, watching movies, rumpling his sheets. Today, though, he and Danny decided to go on a world-class-athlete-level bike ride.

Which is why you're on the couch. They've been gone all day and you don't expect Max to get home until later. You ran errands, cleaned a little, and then took an afternoon nap.

As you rouse from it, you fumble for your phone to check the time. The screen lights up and you're greeted with --

35 texts. 4 missed calls.

"What the hell?" you mutter, sitting up and opening everything.

DR: sorry for the three calls don't freak out but i think max broke his arm

DR: he says you're probably napping but i'm going to document this for when you wake up

DR: he's fine but yeah that shit is fucked

DR: he says not to tell you he fell off his bike but he fell off his bike

DR: he braked for some animal in the road and went over his handlebars

DR: oh he also scraped his face but he's still pretty, don't worry

DR: his palms are fucked though which is why he's not texting you

DR: we're on the way to the hospital, btw

DR: you're gonna be so pissed when you wake up

It goes on like that. Daniel, to his credit, has given you a play-by-play of the whole situation. You've only been asleep for about an hour and based on the time stamps this started right after you fell asleep.

You get up as you read, grabbing your things and trying to find your shoes as you read. You need to -- you need to go and be wherever they are. You need to help. Heart racing, chest tight, you need to be near Max as soon as possible, even though Danny said he's okay. If this was you, Max would already be there. God, why did you take a nap?

According to the texts, they got to the hospital and he was seen immedietly, x-rayed, and bandaged up. Broken right wrist, Danny had said. He's pissed more than anything.

You're about to call him back when your phone rings in your hands.

"Danny," you say as soon as you accept it.

"Oh, thank fuck," Daniel exclaims. "I thought I was going to have to surprise you in person with the whole thing."

"I'm about to leave, just give me 15 minutes to get there--"

"No, no, no," he interrupts you. "He just got discharged. I'm bringing him home."

You stop in your tracks, one foot shoved halfway into your sneaker. "Really?"

"Yeah, we'll be there in like, 20 minutes?" You can hear Max saying something in the background. "He wants to talk to you," Danny sighs. "Mate, you'll see her soon--"

He's cut off and there's some muffled noises and then Max is saying your name.

"I'm fine," he says. "I only made him tell you so it wasn't a surprise when I came home."

"Max," you sigh, shoulders creeping away from your ears at the sound of his voice. "I'm so sorry, I was asleep!"

He laughs. You feel a bit weepy, which is both an overreaction and cathartic. "Good," he says. "The whole experience has been a pain in the ass."

"You're coming home now? Are you in pain?"

"Eh," he says, dragging out the sound. "They gave me something while they set it so I don't feel it much. Daniel says we'll be home soon. Oh, hold on --" There is some muttering, Danny's voice in the background. "Okay, I'm going to give you back. See you soon, liefje."

"Okay," you say softly.

"Be there in a flash!" Danny says brightly. "Seriously, don't worry."

You hang up and just stand in the hallway, at a loss. Something bad happened to Max and you weren't there. It feels wrong. Not that he's in poor hands with Danny -- quite the opposite. He's probably the only person aside from yourself that you'd want there for Max in a crisis. But, god. You wish you had been there.

The cats weave around your ankles as you pace, waiting for Danny to call or for the door to open or, anything at all to happen. Your mind is running a million miles a minute. Objectively, it's the best time for Max to break something. There isn't even a car for him to test right now and he had at least another week of time off before needing to go back to Milton Keynes. This might throw a wrench in your holiday plans but you couldn't care less about that. How long will he be in a cast? You assume he's in a cast. What kind of help will he need? Will you be enough to provide it? What if he --

Noises in the hall make you freeze and then you hear Danny's voice. You bolt to the door, unlatching the locks and pulling it open. You're greeted with the sight of the two of them -- Danny looking down at Max's keys in his hands, both of their backpacks on his back. They've both changed out of whatever ridiculous bike outfit they must have been wearing for the ride, but you devote your attention to your boyfriend.

You can see the bandages on Max's knees and forearms where he must have scraped himself up on the road. His wrist -- it's in a black cast that runs the length of his forearm. He cradles it to his chest in a sling they must have given him and then you make your way to his face. A few scratches along one cheek, hair a mess, mouth drawn into a frown. A frown that relaxes slightly when you meet his gaze. Your eyes well with tears.

"Max," you breathe. He steps in front of Danny and meets you in the doorway, his cast-free hand cupping your face through the bandages on his palm.

"I'm fine," he says. "You're looking at me like I'm in a coma."

"Sorry," you whisper. "I just --"

He tugs you to him gently, pressing your face into his neck and rubbing your back. You try to be careful of his arm as you breathe deep and will yourself not to actually lose it.

"Guys, can we at least go inside?" Danny asks.

Max huffs and you pull away. He drags his thumb under both of your eyes but doesn't comment on the dampness he finds there. "Inside, liefje."

Danny drops Max's stuff and passes along the documents from the hospital. He's quite the personality but he's all business when he needs to be. "Pain killers in his bag. Call me if you need anything, guys."

You step away from Max long enough to throw your arms around Danny. "Thank you," you whisper. "For looking after him." For calling. For bringing him back to me. For doing what I should have been there for.

He chuckles. "Alright," he says. "Max should break something more often."

Once Danny leaves, it's just the two of you. Max has settled on the couch, head leaning back into the cushions.

"Come sit with me," Max calls. "God, I forgot how much I hate hospitals."

His eyes are closed and he holds his arm gingerly. It's not the first time you've seen him injured -- you've been at his side in the medical tent before after watching him careen into a wall at 190mph. And yet, right now, you're still so upset.

You settle into the cushions on his left side and just watch him.

"I'm sorry," you say again. Max's eyes open. "I can't believe I was asleep when Danny called."

Max shakes his head. "What would you have done?"

"I could have come to get you and take you to the hospital, or just met you there, or--"

He puts his hand on your knee. "Come on," he says. "Don't be silly."

How do you explain it to him? How do you tell him that something happening to him feels like it happened to you? That not being there feels like a personal failing?

"Will you tell me what happened?"

He sighs and you pull his palm from your leg to hold it in your hands.

"It's stupid," he grimaces. "You don't need the details."

"Max."

He folds. Other people in his life have called this your superpower -- Max's will is iron clad. It is very difficult to get him to do something he does not want to do. But one word from you, one soft look, one gentle touch, and he often relents. It's like you can peel back that layer of him that has hardened out of necessity. To protect himself and his heart, to make sure he's taken seriously, to stop things from hurting.

It's like you remind him that it's okay to feel, even when it's hard.

"Daniel summed it up," he grumbles. "We were biking down a hill outside the city and something ran out into the road in front of me. I stopped. Or tried to, at least." He mimes squeezing the breaks, fingers curling in towards his bandaged palms. You stroke his unbroken wrist with your thumb.

"And you went over," you finish.

"And I went over. Got my knees, my forearms, my hands. My wrist, obviously. Just landed badly."

You reach for his face ever so gently, dragging the pad of your thumb over the shallow scrapes on his chin, his cheek. He allows it, knowing that you need to touch him to be sure he's okay. Whenever he has a crash on track you have trouble letting him out of your sight for hours. You just need to look at him, feel him warm and alive under your hands.

"I'm going to write a letter to your helmet manufacturer," you say, not entirely kidding. You slide your hand over his temple and into his hair. It's dirty, you can feel it, but you cradle his skull all the same. "Thank them."

He laughs once, amused with your sincerity. "I need to shower," he says. "But I can't get this wet." You finally direct your attention to his broken wrist, the entirety of his forearm and hand encased in the cast under the sling.

"Does it hurt?" you ask again. Max would tell anyone else off for badgering him so, but he keeps his face soft and reassures you.

"It's strange," he says. "I'm sure I'll feel it later."

"Did it hurt?" you whisper. "When you broke it?"

You know that Max has felt a great deal of pain in his life. His day job requires it -- physical, mental, emotional. He knows how to handle it and get over it. But he's also honest with you, always.

He wrinkles his nose. "It wasn't nice," he confesses. "I knew right away."

You grimace. In the silence, you match your breaths to his and just sit together for a little while.

And then Max's stomach growls.

"Whoops," he says, grinning crookedly. Still an athlete, still a boy with a fast metabolism. You can't help but laugh.

"How about this," you begin, unfolding yourself from the couch and standing in front of him, hands on your hips. Max looks up at you like you're the best thing he's ever seen. "I order some food and then we get you showered while we wait for it. Let the scrapes breathe and keep your cast dry, then we eat and watch a movie and go to bed. Okay?"

"We get me showered?" He sounds skeptical.

"You think you can wash your hair on your own?"

He smirks. "I can do a lot with one hand."

You roll your eyes. "So you're turning down an opportunity to shower with me, is what I'm hearing."

Max gets himself off the couch and rests his palm on your hip. "No," he says softly. "I'm not that stupid."

He kisses you lightly and heads for the bathroom.

"I guess we can wrap it in a plastic bag, or something?" you call after him. It takes a few minutes of opening and closing cabinets for you to find one. You put in a delivery order and make your way to the bathroom. Max has already turned on the shower and you find him shirtless and peeling off his bandages in in front of the mirror.

"Let me do that." He doesn't put up much of a fight, not even wincing when the tape pull at his skin. You see the gashes on his forearm, the raw skin of his palms. "Arm, please." The plastic bag goes around his cast and you tie it at his elbow.

"You planning to wash my hair while wearing your clothes?" Max asks with a straight face.

You stare at him, trying to seem unimpressed. He breaks first, mouth pulling up at one corner before he shucks off his soft shorts and briefs in one go. He pecks you on the cheek and gets in the shower, still smirking at you through the glass door.

"Alright, alright," you mutter. "So dramatic."

You feel Max's eyes on you as you undress, leaving your clothes on a pile on the floor.

The shower is unnecessarily big but Max does not give you much space. The hot spray is at his back and he keeps his plastic bag-clad arm mostly out of the way.

"Feel good?" you ask. Max sighs but nods. You'll bet he's aching but hasn't admitted it. He turns to the side so you can catch some of the spray, too, fighting off the chill outside the warm water.

"I might fall asleep in here," he mutters.

"That'll be the painkillers, darling," you tell him. "C'mon, get your hair wet."

Max tips his head back. You readjust so that you can card your hands through it. You shampoo him gently, taking your time and massaging his scalp. It's a miracle he stays on his feet, but he does. You hum as you work and Max's breaths get deeper, slower.

"Head back," you say softly. He obeys. You do the same with some of your conditioner because you know he likes how it smells.

This shower feels more intimate than the countless hours you've spend in his bed, tangled up in one another. He's been inside you and yet this feels more vulnerable. He's totally ceding control, trusting you to take care of him. You're naked, slick bodies brushing, always touching whether it's your hands in his hair or Max's own fingers reaching for your skin just to feel.

One time, when you were sick, you couldn't muster the energy to take a shower. Max ran you a bath and washed your hair for you, talking all the while because you asked to hear his voice. It's obvious that you'd do the same for him, as you're doing now. It's just how you love each other -- all the way, all the time. When it's easy and when it's hard.

"Danny was right," Max says, words slurring half from bliss and half the fatigue of the day catching up to him. "I should break bones more often."

You finish rinsing him and just stand there in the spray for a few moments.

"Please, no," you groan, brushing wet strands back from his forehead. "If you want me to wash your hair I will, Max. You don't need to break anything."

His eyes flutter open and find yours. He smiles lazily and you turn off the shower.

"If you say so," he says. "Can we take this off, now?"

Bag removed, skin patted dry, comifes on. The food comes when you're settling Max on the couch with a pillow for his arm. In all likelihood he'll manage a few bites of take out and fall asleep 15 minutes into the movie. But he needs the rest, you think. And besides, he'll have you to watch over him.

__

It becomes clear remarkably quickly that Max is an awful patient. You sort of knew this -- he's been sick a few times when you're around, but you figured that was just man-disease. Whining, refusing to sit still. This is 10x worse. He won't let you do anything for him until he's proven that he can't do it himself. You consider locking him in your bedroom to keep him from trying to do things he shouldn't do.

Max just wasn't made to sit still.

But you can empathize -- it's frustrating to not be able to do any of the things he really likes to do. Drive, use his sim, even play regular video games. It's a lot of movies and long walks and leg days with his trainer.

And then there's the way he just won't ask for help. That's a Max Verstappen original and you know it gets worse when he's frustrated. You do it too -- everyone does. But Max wants to do everything himself, wants to prove that he can.

You try to sit back and let him work it out. About a week after he comes home with his arm in a cast, he calls your name. You're in the kitchen, staring into the open fridge and wondering if you should order more groceries or just go to the shops yourself.

"You okay?" you call back. "Where are you?"

"Bathroom,"he shouts.

Ah, you think. Here we go.

He hasn't shaved yet. You've always loved when he keeps his facial hair a little longer. You love the feel of it on your skin and how it lightens along with his hair when you're on holiday somewhere nice. It's more likely that he keep it long in the off-season. Hot races are a nightmare with a beard, he's said. It itches like mad.

"Coming," you call.

Sure enough, you find him in front of the sink, razor in hand and frown firmly in place. He makes eye contact with you in the mirror and even though you can feel his annoyance from here, the set of his jaw softens.

"Do you think you could help me shave?" he asks. No lead up, no hem and haw.

"Of course, Max."

You quickly work out that sitting on the counter next to the sink while he stands between your knees works best. His broken wrist hangs at his side, the other hand resting on the counter next to your leg.

You lather him up, carefully applying the white foam of his shaving cream on his cheeks, his chin, his neck. He's got a fancy razor, one that will probably make it hard to cut him. Still, you feel the way he's basically handed you a blade and asked you to use it on him. In so many ways it's one of the most intimate things you've ever done. Even more than the showers you've had this week, just chatting and washing his hair.

"I'll be careful," you say softly.

"I know." He tilts his chin up, showing you his neck. "Go on, then."

It's quiet work. You're focusing hard and Max seems content to allow you. Stroke after stroke, rinsing the razor in the sink. You keep one hand at the base of this throat as the other works, gliding it over his skin. Cheeks, jaw, upper lip. Chin, neck.

"I like your beard, you know," you say when you're almost done. He waits until you're rinsing the razor again to reply.

"I do," he says, smirking. "You aren't quiet about it."

The last patch comes off as easily as the rest and you grab a damp towel to clean the rest of the shaving cream. Max appears to have relaxed enough to become pliant, leaning into your touch as you finish. He lets you rub moisturizer into his cheeks, eyes fluttering closed. His hand ends up on your leg, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thigh.

"Cheeky," you mutter. He smiles, boyish and easy. You take your time, pleased that he's letting you, but also because you could touch him forever. "Schatje," you whisper, trying to make it sound like it does from his lips. "All done."

Max doesn't move. You frame his face with your hands and lean in until your lips touch. You feel his smile against yours, but he dutifully tilts his head to deepen the kiss. His freshly shaved skin is so soft. You've kissed thousands of times by now, but you can never get enough of him. The way he responds to your every move, meeting your pressure with some of his own. Your tongue with his, swallowing your moans and giving you his own like a gift.

It's Max who pulls away, dragging his lips over your cheek.

"Dankje," he whispers. It means more than that, you know. From Max, it means thank you for dealing with me, for taking care of me, for loving me.

He doesn't think any of that is easy for you. But he's wrong. It's the easiest thing in the world.

[criminalamnesia]

Stay

warnings: enemies to friends, hinted enemies to lovers, Tyler’s sister!reader, mean!scott, bickering, very real tornado danger, mentions of a car crash and physical injuries, not proofread, f!reader

summary: the three time you see storm par’s one and only scott, including the one in which he saves your life.

author’s note: look at me, finally writing something again! I’ve been extremely busy and, truthfully, in a writers slump. I started writing this after seeing twisters, and I just got the motivation to come back and finish it. I’ve been obsessed with this man since that movie, and good lord do we need more fics of him. anyways, enjoy! (also, for my traitor fans— I haven’t forgotten about you! I hope to work on the next part soon!)

the first time you’d seen scott, you’d wanted to break his jaw, and you hadn't even gotten his name.

“get lost on the way to the hillbilly convention?”

his tone is snarky, his eyes full of disdain as he watched you slide out of tyler’s truck.

your eyes had widened, your spine straightening as you registered his unprovoked hostility.

“the fuck is your problem?” you ask, eyes narrowing as you come back to your senses. you look him up and down, huffing a laugh at his clothes.

“you look like you’re going to a fuckin’ business meeting.” you say, coming to a stop in front of him. your cowboy boots dig into the dirt, and the sun beats down on your face.

perfect day for storm chasing, as your brother had said. darkening clouds rolled in the distance, and the wind was steadily picking up. according to lilly's drone data and tyler's instincts, your first chase would occur sometime within the next few hours.

you had been away at college when tyler’s tornado-chasing YouTube channel took off. you’d always loved the thrill of being close to the storms, but even when you came home to visit during summers, tyler refused to let you tag along.

until now, that is. now that you’ve graduated with a degree in meteorology, just like him. he had always accused you of wanting to follow in his footsteps.

“don’t mind storm par over there,” comes your brother’s drawl as he appears beside you, a hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. “the stick up his ass seems to have been lodged a little deeper recently. you’ll get used to it,” tyler grins, barking a laugh at the brunette's scowl.

"haven't seen you before," another man moves to stand beside the brunette. he's also wearing storm par gear, and you watch as him and the taller man share an unreadable glance.

"she's new," tyler responds for you, his wide grin still present as he acknowledges the shorter man with the tip of his hat.

"i'd run while you can, sweetheart," the taller one says, a look of pity in his eyes as he looks back to you. "fucking him isn't worth dying over."

you stare at the man for a moment before bursting into laughter. the storm par pair's eyes both widen, their stares moving from your hysterics, to tyler's rolled eyes, and then to each other.

"you two are supposed to be scientists, huh? the guys who are gonna 'tame tornadoes?'" you throw the last two words in air quotes as your laughter subsides.

the shorter of the two men nods, while the taller opens his mouth once more. "that's right. while you morons are out trying to get yourselves killed, we'll be busy doing shit that actually matters."

"right, right," you nod along, glee shining in your eyes as you stare at the taller one. "you must be so smart, then. where'd you get your degree?"

"MIT," he says smugly, popping the gum in his mouth.

"MIT, wow," you whistle, your eyes finding your brother's. tyler just shakes his head, trying and failing to suppress his laughter.

"you got a degree from MIT, and you're too stupid to tell that he-" you jab a finger towards tyler. "is my fucking brother?"

the man's smug grin instantly falls as his eyes scan you, then tyler, and then fall back onto you. tyler steps forward, smacking a hand on the man's shoulder with a laugh.

"meet my little sister, storm par. may not have gotten a degree from MIT," he says, tipping his cowboy hat to you. you mime tipping an invisible hat back at him. "but she seems to be a hell of a lot smarter than you."

the second time you see scott, you still don't learn his name.

"jesus christ, this thing is huge!" you yelp as tyler swerves the truck back onto the dirt road. he scowls as the storm par truck ahead of him jerks back and forth on the path, blocking his approach.

"how's the wind lookin'?" he asks, his words clipped as his hands grip the wheel tighter. wheat fields ripple on both sides of the road, an ocean of tan as the sky continues to darken.

"pickin' back up," you tell him, glancing down at the laptop in your lap. it was displaying real-time data of the atmospheric conditions. the software had cost a pretty penny, but had been worth it. plus, it had been more than covered by tyler's t-shirt sales. cheesy or not, tyler’s face on a shirt was worth his weight in gold to his followers.

tyler groans as the white truck in front of him cuts him off again.

"ty, just go around!" you yell at him, your eyes widening as you stare out of the passenger side window. the clouds overhead were beginning to swirl.

"i'm tryin' to drive nice," he tells you through gritted teeth. "don't wanna make you sick-" he begins, but you roll your eyes and reach over, jerking the wheel. the car swerves off the road and into the ditch beside it, and tyler scrambles to avoid hitting a wire fence as he swats at your hand.

"what the fuck?!" he yells at you, his eyes cutting to you for a second before focusing back on the road.

"stop tryin' to baby me!" you tell him. "show these storm par pricks what we're made of."

tyler falls silent, clearly debating his next move. you're about to grab the wheel again when his foot slams down on the gas and the truck lurches forward. you cheer, throwing a fist in the air as you laugh with glee.

"just don't tell mom!" he says to you, laughing along.

as the truck speeds forwards, tyler lets off the gas just enough to keep speed with the storm par truck. you lean past him to get a look into the cab, and there's the brunette you'd had the displeasure of meeting a few days ago.

you can see his scowl from here, and your grin is wide as you hold your middle finger up, waving it around to make sure he couldn't miss it. his scowl deepens, and before he can even think of responding to the gesture, tyler hits the gas again.

"what was that for?" your brother asks as you lean back into you seat.

you shrug. "just havin' fun."

the third time you see scott, he saves your life.

it's a week after the middle-finger incident. although storm par and your brother's wranglers have been following the same storms, you haven't had the pleasure of bothering the tall brunette, much less seeing him. you’d caught glimpses, but he seemed to be keeping his distance. you supposed he’d finally grown tired of your constant teasing.

you don't know why you find yourself caring. he's an asshole. an asshole who hates you, your brother, and everything the two of you stand for. who constantly underestimates and looks down on you.

and yet you miss his scowl and the unmistakable pop of his bubblegum.

"hey, you okay over there?" boone asks as he leans over the center console, his head peeking out between the two front seats. you know the question is directed at you, as boone is watching you like a hawk.

"yeah, fine," you shrug, your eyebrows furrowed as you lean down, getting closer to the screen of your laptop.

"ty, turn the music down for a sec," you tell him, and he listens without protest. a rare occurrence, but now wasn't the time for bickering.

what had first appeared to be a measly EF1 had begun to grow. it wasn't dying out, and things were starting to get scarily real as moisture kept feeding into the funnel miles ahead of you.

"this thing isn't stopping," you tell the two men. "you need to tell the rv to turn around. hell, we should turn around."

boone shakes his head, leaning further into your space. his eyes scan your computer screen, and although he's learned a lot from tyler, he still doesn't see what you see.

"nah, it's gonna be fine. ty said it's gonna die out anyways, right? we just need to get in it before it does."

"boone," you warn, turning in your seat to face him. "love you, but shut the fuck up right now." you reach out a hand and grip tyler's arm.

"ty, I mean it."

rain starts pelting the windshield. you can hear the wind howling outside of the truck, and you shudder as hail begins to pound against metal.

tyler mumbles something under his breath as he kicks the windshield wipers up to maximum speed. "you sure?" he finally says.

he turns to look at you as you nod, and those precious seconds are all it takes for the world to spin on its axis.

a fence post slams through the windshield as rain and hail continue to obscure the world around you. you scream and tyler jerks the wheel out of instinct. the truck turns sharply, running off the road. your stomach drops as the truck drops and rises again- your own personal rollercoaster from hell.

"tyler!" you yell, gripping the straps of the harness holding you in.

"workin' on it!" he responds, jerking the wheel the other way. the truck rights itself back on the road, and you close your eyes as adrenaline rushes through your veins.

fuck, the others-

"boone, tell the others to turn around now!" you yell at him, and he's nodding frantically from his seat in the back, his hands fumbling for the walkie talkie in the floor.

"so much for an EF1!" tyler says, and although his tone sounds easy, his face betrays him. you can see the glimpse of fear in his eyes. it mirrors your own.

"yeah, ri-" you begin, but the sentence never fully forms.

you black out as another car slams into the passenger side of the truck.

"c'mon, get up!"

everything feels fuzzy. your head is pounding, and your ears are ringing. pain shoots through your body, engulfing every inch of skin. you think something has to be broken, judging from the numbness you feel on the right side of your body.

"get up!"

your eyes begin to crack open, but your vision is blurry. someone is a few feet in front of you, but you can't make out who it is.

"for fuck's sake-" the voice growls, and you can just hear the faint crunching of glass before your hearing comes back in full force.

the wind is an unbearable howl, and the rain and hail pounding down around you make hearing your own thoughts almost impossible-

your thoughts. what had happened? one second, you're driving and then-

fuck. tyler. boone. where were they?

your eyes shoot open, your body jerking against the harness still keeping you strapped to the leather passenger seat.

you look to your left- to the driver's side- but tyler isn't there. you try to turn you head to see into the back, but a sharp pain in your neck quickly stops you.

"tyler?!" you yell, but your voice is carried off by the wind. you can't even hear your own words.

"boone?!"

"they're fine!" a voice calls to you, and your gaze shoots back to the driver's side. you can see a man crouching by the driver's now blown-out window— which is upside down.

you were upside down. the truck had rolled with the impact of whatever had hit you. everything comes back with devastating clarity, and even though adrenaline pumps through your veins, the pain is beginning to become unbearable.

“can you move?” the voice says. you can’t tell who it is through the spots in your vision and the sheets of rain still coming down.

“I-” you start, pushing your chest against the harness. “I think so.”

“good,” you recognize it as a man’s voice. “then hurry the fuck up and get out!”

under different circumstances, you would’ve scoffed at the order, but now wasn’t the time for defiance. your life was literally on the line, and if you didn’t get to shelter before the tornado engulfed you—

well, you didn’t want to think about that.

you force your brain to gather itself, directing your thoughts toward moving your aching limbs. your left arm is the only one that responds, coming to fumble with the metal buckles of the harness.

the first one unclasps and you swear you could cry from relief.

“any day now!” the man calls, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. you reach your left hand across your torso, working at the clasp on your right side.

“im trying!” you call back. once you get it undone, your arms fall downward as gravity claims them. you groan in pain as your right arm shifts. something is definitely broken, but you can’t afford to give into the pain at the moment.

you reach for the lap belt, tugging at it with a shaking hand. the wind continues to howl around you, and you feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes. hopelessness begins to eat away at you as you try and try again to undo the lap belt, to no avail.

“it’s stuck!” you call out, hoping the man can hear you. “I can’t get out!”

your breathing is picking up. your chest feels tight, and the feeling you still have in your left hand ebbs as you begin to panic.

you don’t want to die. you know that. it scares you shitless.

but you don’t want anyone else to die, either.

you’re stuck. whoever is outside of the truck isn’t. he should run while he can—

“hold on!” you’re jarred from your thoughts as a figure begins to crawl through the hole left by the blown-out window, and that’s when you register your savior.

it’s him, the brunette from storm par. the man who belittled you, who rolled his eyes at every sentence you spoke, and who you somehow found yourself missing.

he’s crawling into the cab, his arms no doubt suffering cuts from the shattered glass littering his path. “I’ve got you,” he calls to you, and when your eyes meet his, there’s no look of disdain. there’s thinly veiled terror.

“you need to leave me,” you tell him, and you can’t tell if the wetness on your face is from your tears or the rain that’s now blowing sideways into the destroyed truck.

“shut the fuck up,” he tells you, groaning as he slices his forearm on a jagged piece of metal.

“im serious,” you reply, your left hand still fumbling with the belt restraining you. “I can’t feel my right side—”

“will you shut up? please?” he heaves out, his face inches from yours now as he reaches for the lap belt.

you fall silent, but not because you’re heeding his demands. no, you’re too busy examining his face. he’s never been this close to you, and you’re taking in every little detail before death comes to sweep you up.

can’t blame a girl for wanting to gawk at a handsome man in her final minutes, can you?

“stop staring at me,” he grits out, his forearm flexing as he tugs at the lap belt. something has the fabric trapped, and although he’s freeing it inch by inch, you’re not sure if—

the belt gives, and his arms leave your lap to cushion your fall, protecting your head from slamming into the metal below you.

he doesn’t say anything, but you watch as his gaze flits over your right side. stone cold as ever, his expression gives nothing away regarding your physical state. you can’t bring yourself to look down.

“im gonna pull you out, okay?” he says, and you absently nod your head. the pain is heavier now— harder to push away. your vision swims as he hooks his arms under yours and shuffles back on his knees.

agony spreads through your thoughts as the numbness gives way to excruciating pain. your eyelids flutter, but the man doesn’t stop. he grunts as he pulls you forward again, slowly but surely removing you from the truck.

“you need to leave me,” you tell him again, your teeth biting into your bottom lip to stifle a scream of pain. “im not going to be able to walk. I’ll just slow you down—”

“jesus christ, you don’t listen, do you? im not leaving you here to die.”

he finally makes his way out of the wreckage, pulling you with him. once you’re free of the ruined truck, he stands on shaky legs— fighting to maintain balance as the wind whips across his figure. he reaches down, scooping you up in his bloody arms, and starts to run as best he can. the rain is so thick you can’t even see a foot in front of you, let alone where he’s taking you.

lightning cracks overhead, followed by thunder so loud it shakes your shattered bones. your head tilts up to the sky, and you watch in horror at what was once an EF1 tornado races toward you. it’s got to be an EF4 by now— maybe even a 5 based off its sheer size.

“drop me!” you screech, your working hand clutching the soaked fabric of his storm par shirt.

if he hears you, he pays you no mind as he continues to struggle against the wind.

with your eyes focused on the impending doom behind you, you don’t even realize when he reaches his destination. he jumps down into a deep ditch, and you hear him groan as his feet hit the ground. he must be hurt, too.

“is she alright?” a voice calls, and your eyes widen as boone comes into view, a large cut across his forehead that looks like it definitely needs stitches.

“not the time!” the storm par man shouts, ducking behind your friend. your eyes catch boone’s over his shoulder, and you give your fellow storm chaser a weak wink. boone’s lips crack into a wide smile, even amidst this horrible storm.

the brunette carrying you falls to his knees, laying your back against muddied dirt. he refuses to let you go, his arms cradling you against his chest as he shelters you with his own body. there’s nothing to hold onto except for him, and you know if the tornado gets any closer, you’ll both be goners.

you close your eyes tightly, welcoming your end despite your overwhelming fear— but it never comes.

you pry your eyes open as the sounds of wind and rain finally begin to subside. the body above yours still clutches you tightly.

“are we alive?” your voice comes out a whisper. your left hand flexes against the man’s chest, and sure enough, it meets a solid body. he’s not an imagination— he’s real. you’re still here.

“yes,” his chest rumbles with the words, and his arms slowly snake out from under you as he sits back on his haunches. his eyes are locked on yours, his icy blues unreadable as he watches your face.

you don’t say anything for a moment. and then,

“you’re the stupidest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”

his eyes widen in surprise, and his stern facade cracks for the first time— at least, that you’ve seen— and he chuckles.

the bubble surrounding you two quickly pops as tyler’s voice meets your ears. you turn your head and there he is— your brother, running towards you with relief written all over his face.

“oh, thank god,” he says, throwing himself to his knees and scooping you up in a hug. you hiss in pain and he pulls back, his hands on your shoulders as he looks you up and down with a grimace.

“you took the worst of it. those storm par pricks—” his eyes cut to your savior, who is still sitting nearby, watching the two of you. “hit us. you and boone were knocked out, and you were stuck, so I got him first and was coming back, but—”

“ty,” you interrupt, your left hand landing atop one of his. “it’s okay. im okay. we’re okay.”

tyler takes a deep breath and nods, his eyes flitting back down your body, focusing on your right leg. you follow his gaze, grimacing at the unnatural twist of the limb. no wonder it had gone numb.

“I’ve had worse,” you tell him, taking notice of your limp, lacerated right arm.

“now’s not the time to play hero,” your brother chastises, standing up before reaching down and picking you up. your eyes meet your savior’s once more. he’s standing now, too, his arms crossed over his chest as he matches your gaze.

“guess we owe you a thanks, clipboard. and you owe us a new truck.” tyler says, to which the brunette rolls his eyes.

“ty,” you roll your eyes, too, as you keep your gaze locked with the brunette’s. “ignore my brother. thank you for saving my life….” you trail off, realizing, truly realizing for the first time that you don’t know his name.

“scott.” he tells you. you nod.

“thank you, scott.”

he nods back, turning his back to you as he starts to limp back to the road your vehicles had been abandoned at. you doubted they would still be there.

just as you’re about to look away from his retreating form, he glances over his shoulder and gives you a true, sweetly small, smile.

maybe storm par isn’t so bad after all.

[fizzyapplecandy]

The one with the shy bunny and the rowdy cat Part 2

Part 1 Part 3 Final

Ateez Seonghwa X Wooyoung X Reader

Genres and warnings: hybrid imagine, poly relationships (no mxm), strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, mild language, mild smut (in the last chapter), mature scenes

Word count: 4.7k

Special tags: @pshmars @itzbrigitte-blog @atiny-dime-p1ece

You tell the boys your story, and the three of you decide what to do next.

"Wake up you rodent!"

The blanket was pulled off you and you were grabbed by the arm. Jisung lifted you up, and you could see the anger seeping through his eyes.

"What did I say about sleeping in? Huh?! When are you gonna learn?"

He let go of you quite harshly and you fell to the floor.

Your hands went over your ears immediately, because you knew he'd pull on them otherwise.

"I-I'm sorry. I w-was so tired f-from yesterday."

He laughed. "Tired? Don't tell me you're softening up? Should we go over your morning routine, again?"

Jisung rolled up his sleeves and crouched in front of you. He was trying to intimidate you, and it was working.

"N-No Sir, please! It won't happen a-again!"

Your chin was roughly yanked up. His sinister smile brought chills down your spine.

"We'll see about that."

You were yanked from your nightmare, and you could see you were in unfamiliar surroundings. Thankfully, you escaped the events that were about to unfold in your dream. Or was it more of a memory? With everything that happened at that house of horrors, you can't quite decipher.

The room you were currently in was not yours, and you vaguely remember the events of the previous day. This is Wooyoung and Seonghwa's house, and they were kind enough to let you rest and eat. You had to get going soon, otherwise they'd think you're greedy and regret helping you.

You glanced at the alarm clock on the table, your eyes bulging out in shock. How have you slept past 12 o'clock? That never happened, you weren't allowed. What would the boys think?

Oh God. Would they think you're doing this to stay longer than you're welcomed? How would you explain this?

Thankfully, your train of thought was interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

"Bunny? Are you finally up? I'd let you sleep more, but I'm so bored out here! Can I come in?"

Why was he asking for your permission to enter his room? He could go whatever he wanted. You were too lost in your thoughts to answer, so he lightly knocked again.

"Bunny?"

"C-Come in." You whispered, hoping he'd hear you.

Wooyoung slowly opened the door and stepped inside. He was wearing comfy clothes that seemed too big on him, but he looked cute. Maybe he'd give you something to take with you when you leave today. His sweaters seemed warm enough for the weather outside.

"Good morning sleepyhead. How was your night?"

You leaned up against the headboard, hugging your knees to your chest.

"I-It was fine. I s-slept well." You cleared your throat and continued.

"W-When can I go? I-I'm sorry I didn't wake up earlier."

He looked flabbergasted for a second.

"Go? What do you mean go?"

"Well... I have to leave today, r-right?"

He was next to you in a flash, grabbing both of your hands and squeezing them tightly. Your eyes widened, and you froze in place.

"You're not going anywhere bunny! I... We told you yesterday that you're staying here! Hwa told me not to talk to you about it before he gets home, but he knows I won't listen."

Wooyoung noticed your stance, so he softened his hold on you. He shuffled closer, placing his head on your knees. You could see the mole under his eye clearly, and he did look adorable. The smile on his face soon reflected on you, and you loosened up.

"Y-You really want me to s-stay?"

He nodded, placing a soft kiss on one of your knees.

"We really do. Hwa said it's up to you in the end, but just so you know, I won't stop until you're ours."

Your gaze now softened. Wooyoung was serious about keeping you, and Seonghwa seemed to be on the same page. The cat was rooted in the spot, not moving his head from your knees, and then you remembered something from yesterday.

Almost shyly, you placed your hand on his head. His eyes widened, but surprisingly, he kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to ruin the moment. After making yourself comfortable, you placed your fingers behind his ear and started scratching.

Immediately, he began purring, and you felt the vibrations from his chest on your legs. His eyes closed, and the cat looked absolutely blissful.

"That's the spot... You're so good at this bunny. I could crash out right here."

Which he literally did. He pushed your knees down until your legs were flat on the bed before he laid himself over them. His head was now on your plush thighs, his arms around your waist. Wooyoung looked peaceful, and you weren't about to ruin the moment, even though you felt a bit nervous.

"Keep going, I'm just getting comfortable."

Your hand went back to his ear, the other one smoothing down his ruffled black hair.

The purrs were only getting louder as time went on. You didn't even know for how long you've been at it for.

Wooyoung shifted on the bed, and you could see his tail swishing more rapidly in the air. The energy changed, and the room became stuffy all of the sudden. You weren't used to this feeling, so you tried moving, but it only made the cat protest.

"No, no, don't stop. I was just about to..." As if he suddenly realised something, he shot up from his position and you could now clearly see the deep flush of his cheeks. His gaze was intense, and you didn't know what to do, or say. Luckily, Wooyung always had something to say.

"That was the best scratch of my life, bunny. I wish you'd let me do it to you as well."

You cowered away a bit, placing your hands over your ears. He wouldn't do that now, would he? You told them yesterday that you didn't want that. Wooyoung sensed your fear, and shook his head.

"Don't worry, I won't do it. I respect your wishes. It's just a shame..." He glanced at your bunny ears again before standing up from the bed.

He clapped his hands excitedly. "Now! Off we go, we have breakfast to make. Well, lunch to be precise. Hwa knows I like to sleep in, but I was too pumped to see you so I woke up really early. But, I didn't do a thing, so now we have to hurry before he comes home."

The cat turned around and went towards the door. He glanced back at you, still frozen in your spot.

"I'll set out some clothes in the bathroom, go change and come keep me company."

With that, he left you alone again to process the last thirty minutes.

He was a peculiar being, and you kind of liked him because of that. He was unapologetically himself, and he showed affection towards others with no problem.

Wooyoung made you comfortable, and you were thankful for that.

You got out of bed feeling a bit lighter, and made your way towards the bathroom. You could hear pots and glasses being moved in the kitchen, so you figured Wooyoung started on lunch.

There was a fresh set of clothes on the washer that smelled strongly of Wooyoung, so you knew those were only his clothes. He probably made sure to scent them even more before he placed them in the bathroom, because you also noticed his possessiveness along with other quirks.

Your morning routine was cut incredibly short because Wooyoung was shouting for you to hurry up every two minutes. He followed up with 'I miss you, I need you here.' and it honestly gave you a headache. You kind of understand Seognhwa better.

"There you are! I was about to pass out of boredom. Look at you! So cute in my clothes!" He sniffed around you, looking pleased with himself. There was still a trace of your scent left, but it mixed well with his. He grabbed you by the hand and sat you on a chair by the kitchen island.

"Now, my little helper, you just sit here and look pretty."

"B-But I want to do s-something."

He crouched down and gently placed his hands on your cheeks, squishing your face and cooing at you.

"You're doing so much just by being here. I won't be so lonely anymore, and that's the best thing you can do."

You looked into each other's eyes, and you had to admit, he was incredibly handsome so up close.

"I w-won't be lonely either." You managed to say.

"Oh sweetie..."

Before you knew it, his arms went around you and he pushed his face into the crook of your neck. Wooyoung inhaled deeply, letting himself enjoy the moment of closeness with someone that wasn't Hwa.

The other thing he noticed was how you made him feel something Seognhwa certainly didn't, and that might become a problem.

He smiled when he felt your tiny hands on his back, unsure, but eager to reciprocate the affection.

"Take your time, bunny. You can hug me, and pet me, and kiss me anytime you want, you know?"

You pulled back to look at his face, now extremely close to yours.

"K-Kiss?"

He nodded. "Yeah, kiss. You know what that is, right?"

"Kind o-of." You whispered.

The grin on his face made him more wolfish than a cat, and you kind of shied away.

"I can show you, you know. I promise you'll like it."

You didn't know what to say. On one hand, his offer was tempting. You were sure Wooyoung wouldn't do anything harmful, but the idea of a kiss was new to you.

"Hmm? What do you say, bunny? Can I show you?"

His finger traced your cheek, slowly going over your bottom lip. He paid close attention to your reaction, and he was pleased to find you almost completely relaxed around him.

His hand went back to your cheek, caressing it softly, before he began leaning down.

You kind of wanted it to happen. You remember the other hybrids at the shelter talking about how they wished they'd get many kisses, and how it was such a lovely thing. You don't remember it being quite like this, but you didn't want to complain. Having Wooyoung so close made you feel kind of warm inside.

The universe seemed to think this wasn't the right moment, because you heard the front door opening.

"Guys? I'm home!" Seonghwa's voice boomed through the apartment, and the both of you froze in place. Wooyoung was quick to snap out of it, going back to the counter and grabbing a knife to cut the vegetables he laid out. You, however, sat completely still, cheeks probably red, and couldn't get a single word out.

"We're in the kitchen! Lunch will be served a bit late today!"

"What? You know I have to go back to the bakery in two hours."

Seonghwa was about to complain some more, but when he rounded the corner and noticed your dazed expression and Wooyoung's tense back, he stopped.

"What's going on?" he asked, pointing at you.

Wooyoung turned around, and now he saw his flustered expression matching yours.

"What? Nothing? What are you talking about? Come and help if you want to eat."

Seonghwa turned towards you. "Is everything okay, Y/N?"

You managed to nod slightly, but he didn't want to pry anymore. There were more serious topics you needed to discuss after lunch.

He went over to Wooyoung and the men made a quick meal for all of you. There wasn't any conversation flowing between you after they encouraged you to take a bite like yesterday.

It wasn't until Seognhwa was washing the dishes that he cleared his throat and got your and Wooyoung's attention.

"I suppose you've already told Y/N about our offer?"

Wooyoung nodded rather enthusiastically from his spot on the couch. You were perched on the sofa, too far away for his liking, but you were still apprehensive about your little encounter.

"That I did. Ask her hyung, please, please!"

Seognhwa put down the dish towel he was holding and made his way over to the two of you. He sat beside Wooyoung, who was gleaming from joy.

"Well, Y/N... We know you have had a tough time, and we figured you'd be safer with us here. Wooyoung needs a friend, and I find you really lovely. What do you say about staying with us permanently?"

You glanced at them, keeping quiet even though your thoughts were scattered. Wooyoung has made it clear that he wants you here, and now Seonghwa only confirmed it. Could you really start over with them?

"I... I w-want to stay, but... T-There's nothing special about me. I-I'm not fun to be around."

The cat's eyes widened, and he dropped to his knees in front of you, holding onto your legs as if you'd disappear any second.

"Don't say that! You're so small and soft, and so pretty. And! You give the best pets. I'm sorry Hwa, but this girl right here, she's a pro."

The blonde man chuckled at his hybrid's antics. At least he managed to bring a small smile onto your face.

"You hear him Y/N? Wooyoung thinks you are special, and so do I. It's up to you in the end, we won't force you to stay. If you want to go, then-"

"No! Absolutely not!" Wooyoung tightened his grip around your legs and shook his head.

"Woo, let go of her. We need to let Y/N answer for herself."

Wooyoung got quiet, but he didn't let go. You somehow knew he wouldn't, and you didn't mind.

Thinking it over in your head, the logical option would be to keep living with them. You wouldn't be in fear 24/7, and you would always have a warm bed, and some company. You were starting to like the black cat, and Seonghwa seemed like a person you could trust. He wasn't like other humans you've met, but you doubted there would be anything worse than Jisung.

Speaking of him, you probably had to tell them about yourself and your situation. You were still legally Jisung's, and that could cause problems.

"I-I'd like to stay here w-with you."

"Yes! Oh yes, yes! Thank you bunny!" Wooyoung shot up from his place on the floor and practically climbed onto your lap. It was a tight fit on the sofa, but you moved around to accommodate him. Seonghwa watched with amusement at you, coming to sit on the floor in front of you both.

"That's wonderful. We can take you shopping tomorrow, you need new clothes. Although Wooyoung wouldn't mind sharing his, I still think you need your own wardrobe."

You lifted your head from the cat's chest and gazed into Seonghwa's kind eyes.

"Are you sure? I-I can manage with anything."

He nodded. "Absolutely. You deserve it."

Seognhwa took a deep breath before continuing.

"Now comes the not so fun part. We need to know what happened to you. Do you have an owner, or are you really a stray?"

Even though you knew the question was coming, it didn't make it any easier to answer. Wooyoung stoked your arm and it encouraged you to start telling them your story. Surprisingly, your voice didn't tremble one bit.

"I lived at a shelter before Jisung came and adopted me. He seemed nice enough, and I really wanted to have a home to call my own. It didn't take long for him to show his true colours... Life with him..." You kind of got lost in your thoughts for a moment, but the boys didn't pressure you to go on. They waited until you took a couple deep breaths, and Seonghwa intervened.

"It's okay sweetie. You don't have to go into detail, we kind of get it now. You, and Wooyoung, have to realise that we can't just keep you here. It wouldn't be legal. We have to find your owner and get him to sign over the paperwork."

Your eyes widened and you de tangled yourself from Wooyoung.

"Please no! Please! I can't see him again, he'll take me away!" You were now on your knees in front of Seonghwa, pleading with him, hands clasped together.

The poor man didn't know what to do. Seonghwa knew this wasn't going to be easy.

"I'm sorry sweetie, but we can't do this without him. We can give it a couple more days, but we risk losing you forever if we keep quiet about it. If we look at this from a legal perspective, it will seem like we stole you from him."

"That's not fair! That's pure crap!" Wooyoung's ears were now pinned straight on his head, and his tail angrily swished behind him. The boy was angry, and if Wooyoung managed to get so angry, it was serious.

"I'm sorry Woo, but I'm just stating facts."

Seonghwa carefully took your hands in his, sensing how stressed you became. Your nose was twitching constantly, and your fluffy bunny ears were down turned.

"Y/N, I promise you, I will do everything I can to make you ours. We won't give up on you. As I've said, let's give it some time before we do anything drastic. We'll let you settle in, but then we have to get serious."

You sniffed, and tears were about to fall out of your red eyes.

"But what if he wants to take me back? I don't want to go with him Seonghwa."

If you weren't in such poor shape, he'd feel even better hearing his name coming from you in that sweet voice of yours. But now was not the time, so he took a chance and wrapped his arms around your small frame.

"We're not giving you up. If he wants to fight, we'll take him. Isn't that right Woo?"

The cat was behind you in a flash, wrapping his arms around Seonghwa's, squishing you between them.

"Yes, absolutely. I won't let him have you bunny. You're ours now. Don't think about the bad stuff anymore, from now on, we're going to be so happy together. To celebrate-" He stood up and went over to Seonghwa's bag on the counter.

He rummaged around and Seonghwa groaned.

"-We will be going shopping right now! We can't wait until tomorrow, we want to make our bunny happy. Ah, here it is!"

He pulled out Seonghwa's wallet and took out what seemed to be a credit card.

"This right here is Y/N's ticket to happiness! Come now, we have to hurry! We've got a long day ahead. You don't mind Hwa, right? I mean, you're practically rich, so let us enjoy it."

"I work hard for that money, you know?"

Wooyoung pulled you away from his, no, not his, your owners hands.

"I know. And we will appreciate it even more, isn't that right bunny?"

You didn't know what to say, so you just nodded.

"See, we agree. Now, let's go! We'll see you tonight Hwa!"

Wooyoung quickly pulled you out the door before you had a chance to protest, and off the two of you went. It gave Seonghwa a chance to assess their situation in peace.

They wanted you with them, that much was certain, but what about your owner? He must be a bad man, otherwise you wouldn't have ran off. They had to build a good case and present it to a judge. That way, they could have you without much hassle. It would be better for you as well, seeing how easily frightened you became at the thought of going back to your previous home.

He had another half hour before he had to make his way back to work, and an idea popped into his head. It was time to use some of his friend's legal skills. With his phone in his hand, he dialed a number he knew by heart. After two rings, the person on the other end picked up.

"Hey there Hongjoong, how are you? Good, good... Say, would you be interested in taking on a new hybrid case?"

.

.

"Do you want a blanket? I can share my kitty one, but some nights I like it all to myself. Oh! We can sleep in the same bed, that way we can both have it at the same time!"

Wooyoung was too enthusiastic about this shopping trip. The rollercoaster of emotions you went through didn't seem to phase him, or maybe he was just trying to distract you from thinking about anything as well.

It was working, to some degree.

You were now in a random store, picking through shirts and pants for you. There was an obvious colour pallet of soft pinks and lilacs going around, and Wooyoung couldn't get enough of making cute outfits for you. It was a stark contrast to the black mini skirts and tight tank tops Jisung made you wear.

After two bags filled with clothes, you moved on to some personal things for your room. You'd obviously have to share with Wooyoung, according to him, so you could pick something to add to his shelves.

You were interested in the colouring books, so he picked those up, as well as a bracelet making kit. He said you'd do it together, and make the three of you friendship bracelets.

"I can sleep on the couch, you know? It's your room after all."

He almost looked offended by that.

"On the couch? No, not a chance. We're sharing now, I want to do it. Unless..." He looked kind of sad.

"Unless you don't want to? I can be a bit much, I know... But I really want us to stay together."

Maybe even the confident cat needed some reassurance from time to time. You came close to him and took his hand in yours.

"I think I will be just fine."

He quickly covered his surprise with a smile, which you mirrored back at him.

Before you knew it, your hands were filled with bags, your feet were killing you, and your stomach hasn't stopped growling for half an hour.

"W-Wooyoung, I think I'm done shopping for today. I don't know how you enjoy this."

Only then did he notice how worn out his bunny was.

"Oh baby! Come on, let's head back. We need to decorate our room, pack your stuff, cook dinner.. If Hwa comes home to an empty stove he'll crash out." Wooyoung giggled, and you sensed this wouldn't be the first time he'd made Hwa wait for his meals.

As soon as you opened the front door, you could sense a delicious aroma going around the apartment. Seonghwa's shoes were on the rack, so you figured he didn't want to wait for Wooyoung to come back and cook.

"Hey! Did you have a good time today?" You heard his voice before you rounded the corner trailing behind Wooyoung. Seonghwa was already seated at the kitchen island, a variety of delicious side dishes and a stew spread across the surface.

"We had the best time! Thank you for your money hyung!" Wooyoung placed a kiss on top of Seonghwa's head before sitting down next to him.

"Is this what kisses are like?" The boys looked over at you, and Seonghwa was confused. The cat next to him froze for a second.

"Well, yes. Wooyoung likes to give kisses. You can tell him no if he tries."

"Maybe... Maybe I'd want one too."

The boys looked at each other, a bit surprised. Well, Wooyoung wasn't, because he knew if Seonghwa hadn't come home when he did, you'd be long past kissing. If you asked him, that is.

"Y/N, do you want kisses?" Seonghwa asked.

You nodded, too afraid to speak up. This wasn't something you'd usually do, but looking at how happy they were, you wanted to try it out.

Before Seonghwa could even stand up, Wooyoung was in front of you, holding onto your cheeks. You looked up at him, and his gaze almost made you melt.

"You're gonna get different kisses than Hwa, and I hope that's okay."

You were confused for a second, before you felt it.

The light peck he left on your lips.

It was fast, and it felt more like a soft touch than a real kiss, but it still happened. The two of you looked at each other, and you hoped your cheeks weren't flaming red. Wooyoung's certainly were.

"Hey Woo, you can't just kiss the lady like that. You have to ask for-"

"It's okay, Seonghwa." You interrupted him before he got too angry at the silly cat. Wooyoung let go of you, and you made your way to your potential new owner. You weren't as comfortable with him as you were with your fellow hybrid, but that was expected. You did, however, find him ridiculously beautiful and kind, and you knew your bond would grow stronger.

"I... Wooyoung is the closest thing I've had to a friend in a long time... He makes me feel... Safe. You do as well. I hope you don't mind me doing this, but I want to show you how thankful I am."

You leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, catching his eyes afterwards. He was smiling, and his eyes glazed over.

"Thank you, sweetie. I'd also like to give you a little kiss, is that okay?"

You nodded, and Hwa gave you a tender kiss on the cheek as well.

"Oh come on hyung, you call that a kiss?"

"Shut it kitty cat or I'm taking Y/N all to myself tomorrow."

Wooyoung gasped, starting to ramble about how unfair life was, and many other things you couldn't quite catch on.

Dinner was great, and you ate with a smile on your face. The boys helped you unpack afterwards, and Hwa put all of the clothes in the washing machine. Tonight you'd wear something of theirs again, but tomorrow you'll be in your own jumpers and shorts. You chose them yourself, and that was the most important thing.

Afterwards, all three of you took turns in the shower before Hwa came into your room to settle you for the night.

This will be your first night sleeping with Wooyoung, and he looked more than excited.

"Now remember Woo, let the girl breathe. You can cuddle, but you can't squish her. Ask her before you try, please. And no funny business, I'm serious."

Seonghwa looked like a mom scolding her child, but Wooyoung didn't mind. He only nodded, making sure you were settled in before coming closer to your body.

"Can I cuddle you, bunny? Only till I fall asleep, then you can roll me over!"

You nodded, finding it funny how he eagerly made the two of you comfortable. His strong arms wrapped around your middle, and his head rested on top of yours.

"There we go. Kick him if you need to Y/N." Seonghwa stood up and turned on the little night light across the room.

Before he went out, he called your name again.

"I've spoken to a good friend of mine today. He's a hybrid law student, and he's going to help us with your case. We've got the best or the best here, so you'll be officially ours in no time."

Your eyes softened as you watched him, and you couldn't believe somebody you've met a couple days ago would go through such a hassle for you.

"Thank you, Seonghwa. You're the best."

"That he is! Good job hyung!"

"Oh will you let me have a moment with her? Thank you Y/N." He sighed when he saw his cat pouting.

"Thank you Wooyoung. Now go to sleep."

He shut the door to their room and left them to their own devices.

Today was a big day for Y/N, so Wooyoung made sure to tone down the conversation as much as he could. That didn't mean he could stop talking altogether.

"I'm so happy right now I could jump around!"

You smiled. "Please don't, I'm too tired to watch out for you."

"You? For me? Oh that makes me feel special." He laughed.

His arms tightened around you, and he let out a satisfied sigh.

"You're our bunny now... My pretty bunny..."

With that, the two of you fell into a deep sleep, and for the first time in forever...

You didn't have any nightmares.

.

.

The Final part will be out sometime next week, so stay tuned to see how their story turns out. :)

Lots of love, and happy reading X

[carmenized-onions]

Something to Do. | Catering

logline; Itinerary for your trip to New York? Just try not to fucking cry.

[!!!] series history, this is the twelfth; gonna start season three after I post this. Wonder how bad it's gonna throw off the rest of my plot line. Ideally not at all. We'll see.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. I really like this playlist for all chapters, but for a wedding where music is blasting, it feels particularly fitting.

portion; 13.3k how does this keep happening.

possible allergies; Terrible self-image, everything feels bad, very real conversations abt ,,, self-death and addiction.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (gets referred to as a woman and other feminine honourifics but no pronouns, i believe)

i made you all so mad last chapter. Let's see if i can make it up to you, babydoll (probably wont)

You hate to admit it, but you were kind of relieved when you found out Carmen wasn’t coming on the plane. You’re in a bit of a state of fight or flight; well, more accurately, currently leaning towards the flight side— Pun intended.

He’s coming to the wedding. You know he is. For one, he’s getting thirty grand for this, he has to. For two, his location is still on for you— Whether he forgot to turn it off or just didn’t care, you’re not sure. But he hates you, so there’s no way it was intentional, you’re certain about that much.

You know you shouldn’t be looking at it, but you have. You’ve been looking all week. Checking your Find my Friends like a doting mother. He goes to work far too early, he stays far after close, he goes home. Rinse and repeat.

You check on him one last time before boarding the plane. He’s opted to drive, with Richie. Something about ‘wanting to bring their personal equipment’, Richie texted you. They’re halfway through Ohio. You’re sure that road trip is definitely going spectacular after their side of the explosion.

Richie texted the day after that fucking fiasco, asking if you’d want updates on how it’s going at The Bear. How it’s going with Carmen. You said you wanted to know if he wanted to tell. He opted not to tell.

You hate to admit, you were kind of relieved, to not know. To just look at Carmen’s little icon go from Point A to B. Instead of Carmen Reports, you and Richie text about much lighter things. Normal things. Eva drew a funny picture of you kinda things. It’s nice. You know you’re probably being childish, but it feels so much fucking better to ignore the Bear in the room. You don’t know how to feel about anything, and frankly you don’t want to try to figure it out.

You suck, Carmen sucks, what more is there to know? Process it? Fuck that.

Carmen hasn’t texted you; you haven’t texted him, the entire week. Radio silence. You stopped playing Connections. Didn’t see a point. Not like they even have a streak function anyways— You’d die before you let that Wordle streak break, though. That was your thing. Carmen doesn’t get to take your things, too.

You didn’t get a text from the Exec, either. So that’s… Something? Or, rather, explicitly, that’s nothing. Does that mean Carmen gives a shit? Not necessarily. Ugh. Your whole system was so shocked after that fucking fight that you didn’t really have time to take in the fact that that jag was into you? Vomit inducing. You’ve got to rethink your life choices, if they lead you to him. 

But also, you know if Carmen and you were okay right now, you probably would’ve given him your number. You would’ve catfished him for weeks, laughing over your phone with Carmen and Syd as this idiot falls into your trap. You miss Carmen. You also don’t miss Carmen. You want to see him desperately and also never fucking look at him again.

Carmen’s going to be in the kitchen; you’re going to be out in the banquet hall, on bar, this whole wedding. The likelihood either of you have to actually interact this weekend is quite low. The likelihood either of you have to confront what you’re supposed to do with yourselves now is quite low. You hate to admit it, you’re fucking relieved.

Sydney sleeps on your shoulder, for most of the plane ride. You sleep against her head. Shout out Marcus, for switching seats. He’s behind you, with Tina. He wakes both of you up about an hour in, shaking your seats— Because the dessert cart came out and he didn’t want either of you to miss it. The mini cheesecakes are better than expected, to be fair, so he’s forgiven.

This is going to be the stupidest weekend of your life. You’ll take that, over worst, at least.

“Be honest, would you tip me extra well?”

You give a twirl in your probably too fancy semi-cultural outfit. Your family shows up for weddings, if Vinnie and Mira didn’t want their bartender to go hard, they should’ve put that in their notes. It actually would have been nice to get sent notes, though… What is the theme for this wedding other than ‘Italian’ and ‘New York’…? Glitter eyeshadow is probably fine, right? Yeah it’s fine. Not like you could get that shit off now, anyways.

“If you were my bartender, I would ask ‘what are we?’” Answers Syd, watching you from the bathroom as she attempts to put her hair up. Definitely struggling in silence.

Sharing a hotel room was the best idea you ever had. It would be a nightmare to get ready alone in silence, right now. It’s nice to talk and have something to do. If you didn’t, you’d absolutely be ruminating about Carmen, debating whether or not to check on his room, that’s just down the hall, you could see if he needed help with getting ready and also see if he’s as tired as you think he is and— Plus, the amount you saved on splitting a one bed? Christ. Economy is in shambles. So is your brain.

“You would not be brave enough to ask your bartender ‘what are we?’”

“For you, I would.”

“Are we about to kiss, bro?” You duck into the bathroom, getting way too close to the side of Syd’s face. She laughs, pushing you away with the palm of her hand, you scoff, “Wooowwww—”

You clutch your heart, mortally wounded. Retching, truly. Now this is heartbreak in its rawest form. “—Reject me, why don’t you?”

“I’m playing the role of timid—” “I’m sick of this friends to lovers plot line!” “It adds! It adds!”

“Shut up— And tilt your head back, dumbass, what are you doing?” You stand behind her, taking her braids into your hands as she struggles to bundle them all herself.

“I do this all the time by myself, y’know.” So Syd says, but she lets you take her braids regardless.

“Yeah, but I’m here.” You stretch the hairband on your fingers. “Messy bun?”

“You think?”

“I think primal is too clean.”

“No, I was gonna do the one where it does like— Like the infinity in the front?”

“Who’s mom are you tryna fuckin’ look like?”

She kisses her teeth, attempting to reach a hand behind her head to smack you. You dodge and somehow manage to make it easier to smack you. “I’m literally only gonna get to come out after everyone’s left, I dunno why we’re making effort here—”

“High messy bun?” “High messy bun.”

Oh, the days of doing each other’s hair. You’re glad it’s back. You’re glad you get to become, together, again. It used to be bobbles, friendship bracelets, and glitter tattoos—but now it’s tying up each other’s hair, helping with the curling iron, clasping the gold chains on your neck, zipping up the back of your outfit, pinning the collar pins on her uniform, fixing makeup, asking each other to compare perfumes before going through with the final decision, mocking each other’s purchases.

“Wait, what mini deodorant did you get at customs?”

“Oh, one of those Native ones— I think it’s peach—?”

“Those cost like five fucking dollars, Ink. For like two swipes.”

“Excuse me for wanting to smell good, fuckin’ ‘wolfthorn’—”

“I work in a restaurant. I need Old Spice strength, okay—!”

“Oh, pbbbttt— Syd.”

“Pbb—Fuck, how do you do that?”

There’s a knock at the door, interrupting your squabble. “Are you decent?!”

Sydney groans, “No!”

“Yes, Rich, we’re decent, doors open.”

Richie comes in, unceremoniously. A touch awkward. He’s so rarely been in a room with women getting ready. It’s simultaneously exactly what he expected, and not at all what he expected. “Chip, can you put these fuckin’ things on f’me?”

Cufflinks. He presents the box to you. They’re just plain and silver, boring. Save that in your rolodex of gifts to get this Christmas. “You’re fuckin’ forty and you don’t know how to put on some cufflinks—?”

You’re nagging, but you’re already putting them on him, he holds his wrist out for you. “Nah, I was too busy runnin’ shit to learn.”

“Runnin’ your mouth, more like.”

“Yeah, yeah.” It’s a quiet moment, a tender moment, of adjusting his sleeves. Sydney’s scrambling to clean up the room around you two in the background. It’s hard to turn off the autopilot of cleaning one’s station, no matter where she goes.

You purse your lips. You shouldn’t ask and you shouldn’t care, but you do. You half-whisper, to Richie. “How was the drive?” He knows what you’re asking.

“Terrible start. Surprisingly okay middle. He went straight to the banquet hall once we got here.” He swallows, treading carefully, a thing Richie never does. “Do you wanna know the dirty details?”

Oh good, you wouldn’t be able to check on his room even if you wanted to. You want to. Need to? Stop thinking. Carmen sucks and you suck. 

“Not particularly.” You take one final look at his sleeves, happy with your handiwork, letting his wrists go. “You feel settled, though? Or jury’s still out?”

Richie shrugs, tilting his head back and forth. “Grovelled decent enough, by time we hit Penn. But I’m waitin’ on my informer.”

You cringe, knowing what he means. You also know he’d smack you if you said he doesn’t need your say in order to forgive Carmen. “It’s gonna be a minute, until your informer has an answer.”

“I know.” He nods, twisting his wrists back and forth, looking at the cufflinks. Then he gives you a once over. “Y’look good.”

“You too.” You look over him, he does look good. He’s in his suit, wearing his wedding ring, which makes your heart hurt a little bit, but he does look good. “What’s your fuckin’ job tonight, by the way?” He can’t be doing kitchen. He sucks at kitchen. But he’s also just not dressed for it.

“Fuckin’ everything.” Hyperbolic? Typically yes, with Richie, but not this time.

“Wait staff here had too high a fee—”

“Translation: more than free?”

“More than free, yeah.”

“Heard.”

“So, I’m server, set up, and fuckin’ whore-derve—”

“What?” That pronunciation snaps Sydney out of her autopilot clean, her back snaps up straight. Hands on her hips, like a disappointed teacher. “It’s hors d’oeuvres.”

Richie rolls his eyes and really his whole head back. “Just because you went to the fuckin’ CIA or whatever the fuck—”

You interrupt the fight before it can start. “Let’s just say appetizers.”

Sydney does not let you. “Apps and hors d’oeuvres are different.”

You angle your body from Richie to her, deadpanning. “Just because you went to the fuckin’ FBI or whatever the fuck—”

“Alright!” She’s already walking to the door, despite the fact that she started it— “We’ve gotta fuckin’ get to hall now or we’re gonna have like zero prep time, Chefs.”

You both follow after her, doing one last check to make sure you’ve got everything you need. You honestly don’t need to be in this much of a rush, you’re pretty sure, but you don’t mention that. Richie said Carmen just went straight to the banquet hall, when they came in this morning. You’re not sure how well you know him anymore, all things considered, but by your best guess, he’s almost certainly done all the prep by himself.

Carmen did not do the kitchen prep entirely himself. Well. He might’ve, you haven’t checked, but you don’t think he would’ve had the time.

Carmen did your prep entirely himself.

When you get to the bar, in the banquet hall, you have nothing to do. Side work finished for you. Lemons, limes, oranges— All cut into wedges and loaded in their baskets— even the cherries are pitted. The glasses are organized from wine to whiskey glasses, the sink is clean— Which you know the banquet hall staff didn’t do— They never fucking do.

You don’t see Carmen, but you know he did it. He showed up before anyone else, he was in the kitchen before anyone else— So no one else could’ve left the simple braised beef sandwich on your station. Exactly how Mikey used to make it. Half hot, half sweet. Your order at The Beef. Carmen would’ve done pork, but this is what they had on hand, and he had a feeling this would mean more, anyways. It does. Granola bar on the plate with it. One of the nice ones, too. The wrapping boasts fifteen grams of protein.

He knows how hard running bar is. He knows you won’t have time to eat once it starts. So, he’s making sure you get something down now— And that you have time to eat it in peace, and making sure you have something you can scarf mid-shift later, when you don’t have time.

Fucking. Hell. Fuck this fucking guy. Carmen fucking sucks. You fucking suck. This all fucking sucks so much. This sandwich is so fucking good. You’re so fucking mad. Stop saying fuck. Fuck your subconscious for wanting you to stop saying fuck. It’s so unfair, for him to be maybe the cruelest a person could possibly be, in front of an audience made out of your loved ones, and then be sweet, like this.

He is awful, with words— Well, he’s typically better, with you, par for the last time, but he’s best in the kitchen. You can taste the sorrow, the guilt, the apology. The first thing he ever made you, was a sandwich, the brisket sandwich, that Mikey refined for you, as an apology, for freaking the fuck out in a freezer and having that be your first impression of him— Or, at least, first first-hand impression of him. How far you’ve come.

This will not pass, as an apology. Not a proper one. But… You’ll give him a sign, in return, at least. A confirmation that you got the message, nothing more. Definitely nothing more.

“Rich.” You stop the guy in his tracks, as he marches through the room, helping the rest of the staff set up the hall. Not his job, but it’s Richie. “Can you ask kitchen their shifties?”

He nods, like he understands, walking away with stacks of chairs under both his arms.

He comes back after two minutes, straight up to your bar. “What the fuck is a shifty?”

“Oh.” You feel condescending, for being surprised. You’d never really thought about the huge difference between morning servers and night servers until right now. Richie has never worked with a bar staff. He worked at a fucking sandwich shop. “It’s uh— Your drink. Get a drink on your shift— Shifty— It can be like, a cocktail, a straight, a shot, coffee—”

“I know how many fucking drinks exist, Chip—” “Mocktail, smoothie, juice—” “Yeah, I’ll get a Pina Colada.” “I will break the blender over your head.” “I’ll get you a list.”

You nod, already starting on usuals you know will have remained unchanged since your absence. Steel trap memory. Getting drinks with The Beef staff used to be the highlight of your week, which isn’t a sad statement at all.  “I won’t tell anyone you like Dirty Shirleys.”

He defends. “Eva put me on them.”

“Insane thing to say about your five-year-old.”

“You know what I meant— She likes the normal—” “I’m pokin’ fun, go give this to Carmen.”

You’re hoping if you say it fast, coupled with bickering, Richie won’t make mental note of it. Won’t register it. Of course, he still does. How could he not? You slide the mug to him; he takes it, though, slow, with a perplexed look.

Yeah. They had lavender and maple syrup behind the bar. And cardamom. And milk to froth. And black coffee. Whatever. You didn’t have any dried lavender to top it with, this time, so it’s not actually that cool, anyways. Doesn’t make it special. Did you do a maple syrup drizzle to make up for this? Yeah. You hate yourself just a little bit, for it. You really cannot shut off the way you love, can you? Hopeless. Be even the slightest bit withholding, would you? Just a touch petty? God, you suck. Such a princess.

Rich shrugs, when you don’t try to justify yourself. You’re an adult, he won’t coerce you to be sharper, even if you should be. “Aye aye, Chippy.”

If Carmen ends up wanting to drink later, then he’ll have to come to you. That’s being tough, right? Sure. That’s definitely withholding, Chip. Really showed Carmen there. Certainly, a church woman must be clutching her pearls at your backbone, somewhere in the world.

Do you think you’d be able to handle him coming to your bar, anyways?

No. Decidedly no. Which is a bit stupid, because you’ve faced much scarier things in your life, than some asshole you owe two grand. Well, some asshole you owe two grand that you love deeply that hates you deeply because you are in some part responsible for not taking care of his brother—

Carmen doing your side work was unintentionally cruel, honestly. You don’t have anywhere for your brain to go but him. Don’t have anyone to talk to, or anything to do. Richie can tell and whether you want him to or not; he knows what you need. He repeats himself, walking off with the mug. “I’ll get you your list.”

He knows what you need. Something to do. Something to fix, for someone. Not fix someone. People’s princess. Still failed Mikey, no matter how hard you tried.

Sprite, grenadine, vodka, lime, maraschino cherries. Dirty Shirley. Something to do. Just focus on something to do.

You miss the naivety of wanting something to do. Three hundred guests versus one bartender without a barback is a layer of hell that Dante forgot to specify in his Inferno.

“What can I fix for you, ma’am?!” You’ve got to yell every sentence to get anything intelligible over the music and the cacophony of conversations.

There is an overlap of voices from every single woman crowding around your bar, despite the fact that you were definitely making explicit eye-contact with just one of them. You lean over the counter to hear her alone. She blinks, when you get in her face.

“What are we?”

You cannot stop the snort, but you’re pretty sure she didn’t hear it, music's too loud to hear anything. Syd’s a fucking oracle. “We’re fucked. What can I get for you?”

“Lemon drop shot?” Of course. It’s New York.

“Comin’ right up—”

The crowd of women interrupt you, and each other. “Oh, make that two!” “Make that three!” “Wait what are we making?”

Who the fuck is we? They’re more than welcome to get behind the bar with you. You’d take anyone, at this point.

“Lemon drops, babe!” “Oh—Oh, we doin’ lemon drops?” “Let’s just say ten and be safe!”

Of course.

It’s a lot of that, on repeat. But it’s better than the ones that want one very specific brand of scotch with their soda, because at least you can make huge batches for these ones— Does no one know how to fucking act around an open bar anymore? You get a vodka cran and you fuck off. You really need to start telling people you don’t know how to make bellinis.

Working alone is hard, because you can tell when you turn your back to make drinks, and aren’t able to take twenty more orders at the same time, that everyone’s real fucking annoyed with you. You have tried splitting your cells to become a second person, didn’t work. You’re constantly spinning around to accommodate people, and it’s getting fucking nauseating. And you’re usually patient, but the questions are getting just as mind-numbing.

“Can I get a uh… A negroni… Sbagliato? With prosecco?” “Sbagliato means prosecco is in it, sweetheart.”

“Do you do hurricane shots?” “I’m happy to slap you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, so it’s open bar?” “Yeah.” “So, I don’t have to tip, either?” “Well— It’s appreciated— Oh, and you’ve already walked away. Okay.”

It’s a lot of that, on repeat.

You see from twenty feet away, amidst the crowds, Uncle Jimmy walking towards your bar, and when he waves all friendly, he sees your glower, and opts to turn in the other direction. Smart man. No wonder he’s successful.

Richie swings by your bar, waiting at the corner, where the line hasn’t congregated. You don’t need to be shaking this martini for as long as you are, but it’s a good way to look like you’re working when you’re just trying to talk to Richie. He presents his serving tray to you. “Tiny quiche?”

You open your mouth, hands full with your shaker. He gets the point, stabbing a toothpick into the appetizer and shoving it in your mouth. Oh God, food is beautiful. Food is what sustains. You could write a full book of poetry right now about why food is everything. Well, not everything. You’re still in hell.

“Richie, I’m dying, your job can’t be that important, come be barback.” You pour out the martini. You attempt to open the jar of olives by yourself, when you struggle, Richie puts his tray down and grabs the jar from you.

Thankfully for your pride, he’s also struggling with it. Plus, it gives you time to annihilate the tray of quiches. He shakes his head, his job is important, allegedly. “You want me to starve guests?”

“Ideally? Yes.” You ignore the dirty looks you get from eavesdropping patrons. He hands you the opened jar. You take a toothpick from his tray, since you’re already out of yours, pierce an olive, toss it in the martini, and pass it to someone— Quite frankly, there’s every chance that’s not the guy that ordered the dirty martini, but he takes it, so who gives a fuck.

Richie sighs, he does want to help. “I’ll ask kitchen if they can cut someone.”

Thank fucking God. “Ask Marcus, he’s got mixology experience or some shit.” You remember being occasionally impressed by his verbiage— At the very least, he knows what stuff is back here, and that’s enough for you.

Richie just shakes his head, lips in a line, when you mention Marcus. A universal sign that something has gone horrifically wrong. You furrow your brows, immediately worried, leaning forward. “What happened?”

“Excuse me! What’s it take to get a long-island iced tea around here? This open bar is not very open!”

You and Richie both grimace, at the thick Jersey accent on this woman waving her hand hysterically at your bar. He gives you a nod, already taking his empty tray and starting to walk back to the kitchen. “I’ll ask.”

You turn your body to the woman, but head still to Richie. “Don’t ask. Tell.”

Not even five minutes pass, before you get a barrage of texts, from multiple people, all at once. You watch them flood in on the notification screen of your phone laying on the counter, while shaking up a cosmo, this time.

From Marcus, worrying. ‘sorrysorysorrybakkingemergencymbmmbmb’

From Syd, concerning. ‘couldn’t stop him lmk if it’s bad’

From Richie, alarming. ‘yk how to call your dog right’

But it all makes sense, when Carmen comes up to your bar, removing his apron. “You need a barback?”

Hair is normal. Not at its best, not how you taught him, but it’s better than before. He smells excessively like you; like accidentally used half the bottle levels like you. Maybe not an accident. Don’t read into it, too much— They’re almost certainly the only travel sized bottles he had on hand. Of course he’d take them. He smells like Old Spice, too, though. Don’t read into it. He looks tired. You knew he would. You’ve watched his location, every day. By the time you go to bed each night, he’s only just left The Bear. He deserves to feel tired, he was a fucking asshole, and you’re glad your cat ate just short of all of his flowers.

But you brought in the plate, the next morning. You cleaned it, and then hid it in the back of your dishwasher. You wanted it to be safe, you also just didn’t want to look at it or think about it or have it exist in your mind, at all. That’s half the reason you couldn’t let it perch outside your window anymore. Taunting you. He’s a piece of shit, but you can feel it in your chest; the care you cannot get rid of. The desire to ask are you okay? Have you been sleeping? How are you? How’s your week been? Want a hug? Have you been playing Connections? What did I do wrong? Did you need me? Did anything break? Did you break?

You missed him. Was the radio silence relieving? Yes. Preferably, you’d never acknowledge each other for the rest of your lives besides an eventual wire transfer. Preferably, he’d stay in the back of your dishwasher for the rest of your life. But God, you missed him, this week. You’ll probably miss him for the rest of your life. Is that toxic? You’re working on it. No you’re not… He just made every space easier to breathe in, kept a light on, for you. Not at the end, but he did before. Before he figured out that he hates you.

It’s a thing that everyone says about you, that you bring ease, and whether you can confirm or deny that, who’s to say— But you know Carmen does it for you. Lights up a room for you. And you might be alone in that feeling, but that’s okay with you. Or it was. It was, before he figured out he should hate you.

Oh, shit, you’ve been staring at him in silence for way too long. It’s hard to know how to navigate this. You don’t know how to feel, so you don’t know how to act either. It’s all a weird state of limbo that you desperately want to get out of, but don’t want to do any of the work required to do so. What do you do with your hands? Your body? Your voice? Are you supposed to be funny and nice still? Christ, just say something. What’d he ask, again? Can’t remember.

“Uh…” Still can’t remember, but— “What’s happening with Marcus?”

He seems to falter, slightly, but he comes into your bar, oh right, barback. You needed a barback. He exchanges his kitchen apron for a bar apron. Not used to seeing him wear all black. You wish you could enjoy it. Wish you could say it’s cool watching him act as one of your professions. He answers, as he ties the strings around his waist. “Uber dropped their wedding cake.”

Fuck whatever tension you two have. You nearly fold over in shock. The current track on the speakers fades out, right as you yell back, “They dropped their fucking wedd—!?”

With haste, Carmen puts the palm of his hand over your mouth. Knife tattoo hand. Oh, he missed being this close to you. Not the point here, though. “Shhhhhhh…!”

You relax, he removes his hand, you’re annoyed that you wish he didn’t. You whisper, though it’s still screeching in tone. “They dropped their fucking wedding cake?”

He nods, combing his hair back with his hand. Knife tattoo hand. It’s making your shampoo waft. You both notice it. He stops. “Marcus is remaking one, now.”

“From scratch?” You were right to be so worried; Richie was right to make the face he did. Carmen tilts his head back and forth. “Box mix that he’s finessing—”

You finish the sentence with him, “—Because he’s Marcus.” The king of doing too much, especially when there’s no time for it. It’s his best and worst trait.

He nods, smiling just slightly, but not the typical smile you get from him. Timid. “Yeah, so he’s locked in, but I’m here.”

Simple sentence, but it still schisms your brain. You cannot help but feel a distrust of it. “Shouldn’t you be running the back, though?” Keeping his kitchen in order? Being the Exec in his head?

He shakes his head. “They run a tight ship without me just fine.” The first lesson you gave to him, that that’s a good thing. Is this conversation hitting specific pain points on purpose as a punishment from God or is this just how all your conversations are going to feel, from now on?

Probably both. You nod. “Okay.” You do need a barback.

“This is so cute, girl, and I love love but I’m gonna need that Cosmo like yesterday.” Why did this woman have to say love? That would already be terrible if you were good right now. Carmen’s probably not the type of guy to say the L word for like several months anyways. You’re not even dating anyways— Or weren’t? Can you use past-tense on something that never was?

You hand her the Cosmo, and you both pretend you never heard her.

Running bar with Carmen makes your life infinitely easier, though albeit tenser. He hasn’t done this before, but he’s watched previous bar staff from the sidelines— And one of his best traits is how quick he catches on to things. He’s not confident enough to mix drinks, but everything else, he does just fine.

“Behind.” There’re occasional autopilot moments that make you laugh, though. He snaps back into his body, when you do, moving next to you. He tilts his head, “What, you don’t say behind?”

You shrug, and it feels normal, for a second. “Professionals probably do, I’ve never worked in a place that does, though.”

“But what about when you’re holdin’ shit?” You allow yourself to feel normal, for a second. It is a delight to teach him something about your work. You continue to make drinks and hand off orders, all while you both speak. It reminds you of the domestic flow you were both so used to doing. That was so easy for you both to fall into. It’s nice that it somehow hasn’t gone away.

“So, you know when you’re in the kitchen, or here, behind bar, you get like, really fucking hot?” Don’t let that entendre stay doubled— “Like sweaty?”

“Mhm?”

You hold onto your chilled shaker, stepping behind him, “So, we don’t say behind, we—” and press it just under the back of his neck. He shivers, immediately, full shock running through his system. “Do that.”

“Christ!”

You want to enjoy the moment, but you can’t help but remember him calling you a modern-day saviour. You try to push it down, but the warmth you were starting to feel tones down, quite a bit. You manage to keep him from noticing, manage to keep the smile on. “What, don’t like it? It’s nice!”

“Think it’s a safety concern, f’sure.”

“Call OSHA.” You touch the shaker to his face, before going to pour it. He laughs. Actually laughs. You wish that made you feel good, still. And somewhere, in some corner of yourself, it still does. But not like it did before.

Soon enough, you two get a second of reprieve, as Vinnie’s Best Man gets up to do his speech, or whatever. He uses a knife to clink his glass, and of course, it fucking shatters. You’re half-mad, because technically for the night, those are your glasses, but it’s too funny to actually give a shit. Plus, the Best Man gets a pass tonight, in your book, because one, he understood protocol and got a vodka cran from you, and two, his speech is forcing everyone to sit down and leave y’all the fuck alone.

“Beautiful night, beautiful couple, beautiful people— Couldn’t ask for a better weddin’ for my best friend— But let’s be honest, I didn’t think he’d be gettin’ a wedding at all— Aye! This guy Vin, amirite?”

You take this moment to halve your protein bar from Carmen. You wordlessly hand the other half to him. He shakes his head. “M’Good, you eat.”

 You shove it towards him. You know he hasn’t eaten much, you don’t know how, but you just know. “I’ve eaten twelve tiny quiches and a beef sandwich, Carm, take the fuckin’ granola.”

He breathes heavily through his nose, but he takes it. You both watch the Best Man, quietly eating your halves. He is silently overjoyed at the verbal confirmation you ate the sandwich.

“I don’t need to introduce my goddamn self, I’m sure my reputation precedes me, right? But I’m Leo, I’m my boy’s Best Man, and I just couldn’t be more honoured, y’know? We grew up together, playin’ stickball in the Bronx, and now this guy’s marryin’ one of the most wonderful women in the world? And I get to be here? Man, I love ya.”

As cranky as you’ve been all night, this really is a gorgeous wedding. More often than not, the guests are nice, it’s just that the shit ones stick out in your head like nails to be hammered. Vinnie and Mira seem like a good couple. You wonder if you’ll ever get to have a wedding like this. They commissioned one of those painters to do a live painting, too. Always wanted one of those. And they’ve got little gift bags for the guests. You’re taking notes, internally, of what you like here, what you’d want to do for your own.

You wish you and Carmen were talking, right now. Despite the fact that Leo’s voice is booming throughout the hall’s speakers, the silence between you feels deafening, because you both know that you would be talking right now, if you weren’t living in fucking limbo. You need to work. You need something to do. The ice basket is running low, refilling it will take at least two minutes and maybe holding the ice will shock your nervous system.

You grab a bag of ice from the freezer behind you both, Carmen pretends to be listening to the speech, because he doesn’t feel like he has the right to help you with the weight. You cut the bag, emptying huge chunks of ice into the basket. You ball up the plastic in your hands to throw out; you nod to Carmen. “Can you break the ice?”

He seems surprised, taking a second, before nodding, crossing and uncrossing his arms. “I owe you an apology—”

“Oh, no!” You hastily correct. “No— Yes but no— I— I meant—” You hand him the metal scooper, nodding to the clumped-up ice you just poured out. “I meant can you break the literal ice blocks?”

Carmen wishes he has dead. And you can both tell that. “Yes. Yes— Yeah, f’sure, one-hundred— Course. Heard.” You nod back, pensive, throwing the plastic bag out, staring straight ahead, trying to refocus on Leo again. You can’t.

Carmen beats the ice, softly, so as to not make a noticeable noise for the audience. After a few seconds, he returns to his point. “…I do owe you an apology, though—”

“Don’t even worry about it, Carmen.” You don’t say this. Fak does. He sidles up to the bar. Where he keeps apparating from and hearing your conversations, you’re really not sure. “I’ve got this one.”

Neither you or Carmen know what Fak thinks he’s got, here, but you’re both too intrigued or surprised to stop him. Well, Carmen does give it a fair shot, after a second, “Fak, I’m—”

“Nono—” But there’s simply no chance. “I appreciate you trying to fix my problems for me, but y’know, I can handle myself, Carmen.” …You wish that’s what Carmen said, last Friday, instead of calling himself your charity tax write-off.

Fak pivots to you, sighing, shrugging, hands up, as if you know as well as he does what the fuck he’s about to say. You can’t tell if you’re supposed to be scared right now or not. When you don’t say anything, he starts, “Alright, I guess I’m the one that's brave enough to say it, there’s some major tension here.”

Now why does Fak think he’s the one to acknowledge this. Quite frankly, why is Fak here? Is he working, too? On what exactly? You don’t remember seeing him on the plane, either. Was he a part of the road trip? Dear God, that's a nightmare third wheel. You just let out a, “Huh?”

“Oh, come on, you haven’t shown up at The Bear since last Friday—” You’re now remembering that before the fight of all fights broke out that night, Fak ran out of the kitchen. Guess no one filled him in, after. “And like, this week, when something broke—” He nods to Carmen, who grimaces, hand over his face. “Carmy told me to fix it, instead of calling you, like he’d usually.”

You know you’re not allowed to be upset about that, and yet, you really fucking are. You’re Carmen’s fucking fixer. Or were? Fuck. Christ, are you jealous of Fak now? You turn your gaze just slightly to Carmen, who’s leaning over the counter, propping his head up on his hands. “What broke?”

He answers briefly. “Expo clock.”

It was extremely apt and even more upsetting for him, the way time literally stopped, when you left. When he made you leave.

You tuck your hands in your pockets, looking back to Fak. “You fix it?”

He shrugs. “Yeah.” Carmen stands back up, opening his mouth to intercept, Fak puts a hand in front of his face. “No Carm, I’ve gotta tell her the truth…” What.

“Tony…” Neil sighs, unable to make eye contact, at this moment. “I was really harsh on you, that Friday…”

“…Huh?” The fucking degree thing? Is that what he’s talking about? You honestly can’t remember anything before Carmen, from that night.

“You don’t need to hide your pain.” He nods solemnly, “I— I’m just gonna say it… I know it’s hard to believe, but I was… jealous.”

“I know.”

He ignores that you’ve said this entirely, “I know, I know, it’s crazy. Me? Jealous? But yeah, I was really good at hiding it, but you’re just really like smart, Tony, y’know? And everyone was like— Tony can fix this— Tony can fix that— And I was holding it together, but then you were good at serving, too. And it got to me— And obviously Carmen could tell, so he stopped calling you. Trying to be a true bro.”

Oh, Fak really doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, huh? “Of course there’s like, the other obvious tension in the room—” Oh okay, so he does know— “Between us.” What.

“What’s up?” You blink, voice going high for a second. Carmen cannot stop staring at Fak, face entirely unmoving, unblinking. Neither of you are sure what emotion to feel right now. Is Leo’s speech still fucking going? You’ve completely tuned it out, if it is.

Fak gestures to the air between you two. “Well like, there’s obviously a really intense sort of rivals to romance dynamic happening here…”

What.

“And like,” He raises his hands, in defense— Of what exactly? You couldn’t be less sure. “I could totally see that happening, in the future.”

It takes everything in you, to just hold your lips closed together. You have to bite down on your top lip, to not scream laugh in his face. “For sure, man.”

He nods, continuing, “But right now, I just don’t think I’m ready to take what you’re giving, y’know?” Holy shit, wait, is that how Carmen feels? Is that what the fuck is going on in his head? “Just not ready for all—” He gestures to you in general. “This.”

“Little harsh.” You tilt your head. “Fuckin’ cool it, Fak.” Carmen barks, in tandem with you. Oh, he’s upset. He wasn’t set on his emotions, this entire time, but he seems to have now settled in the upset category.

“Right.” Fak nods. “And so, I’m sorry I can’t be that for you… And I know it’s gonna take time to recover, but please come back to The Bear, when you’re ready. You’re… You’re a better repairman than me. We need you.”

You put a hand over your mouth, to cover your shit eating grin, trying your best to compose yourself and look sad. The best way out of this is to just agree with him. It’d take far too much energy to clarify everything for Fak. You’re nodding too much. “…Yeah, y’know, Fak… I will consider that. All those words you said? I’m gonna… Gonna really take all of it to heart, dude. I really appreciate… The directness— Y’know, that takes… Strength, man.”

“Thank you.” He nods. “Still friends?”

You did not realize you were even friends to start. And not in the insecure way, this time. You nod. “For sure, dude.”

You and Carmen both watch him walk away, in perplexed silence. Carm’s the first to break it. “…Was that anything—” “Obviously fucking not.”

He’s going to reply something witty in response, and it’s going to make you both feel like everything’s okay, again, but then he seems to see something that scares him straight. He turns to the back of the bar, aimlessly grabbing bottles, for no reason. Literally no reason, everyone sat for the speeches, what’s he doing—?

“You still serving?” Older man, oval glasses. He stands in front of your bar. Ah. Kinda rude of him, maybe that’s why Carmen’s giving the cold shoulder to this guy? Whatever. You'll serve him. Just because you're Chicago's Kindest doesn't mean everyone else has to be.

“Yessir, what can I fix for you?”

“Manhattan with bourbon?”

You salute, “Aye aye.” And get to mixing the drink. You’re pretty sure Carmen must know this guy, because he’s already set out the bourbon, vermouth, and angostura. It doesn’t take long to fix the drink.

When you go to hand it to the man, he seems to notice the mop of blond curls behind you. “Aye, Carmen? Jimmy told me you’d be workin’ tonight.”

A small, tentative, meek wave from Carmen. He sniffs. “Yeah. Hi, Uncle Lee.”

“Oh.” Is all you can say. Pulling the drink away from his hand, as Uncle Lee reaches for it. “You’re Uncle Lee?”

“My reputation precedes me?” He chuckles, nodding.

Carmen comes up beside you, and witnesses a smile from you that he’s never seen from you, and ideally hopes will never be directed at him. It’s the slowness of it, it’s a smile, but you’re doing it purely to bare your teeth.

“It sure does.” Give him a chance, it’s been four years, give him a chance. “I was a friend of Mikey’s.”

He fails the chance. “Ah… I see, friend, ya did a little—” He taps the side of his nose, sniffing. “Together?”

He really fucking fails the chance. Your smile grows, painfully so. The apples of your cheeks so high they practically close your eyes for you. You laugh a deeply fake laugh. “Hahaha, yeah, yeah, that’s exactly what we used to do. Uncle Lee.”

“Oh!” You tilt your wrist quickly, pouring the bourbon Manhattan in the bar sink. “Ah, fuck. Hand slipped.”

Lee is a bit taken aback. “Really—?”

“Really.” You repeat. Putting the glass down. “And y’know, I could remake that for you, but I dunno if you wanna trust my shaky junkie hands.”

Holy fuck. Carmen has always been great at keeping his reactions hidden, and still is, so Uncle Lee cannot tell how out of character this is, of you. You’re nice, you don’t bite— Or Carmy didn’t think you did, because of the amount of grace you gave him, last Friday.

“Lee, I’m gonna level with you.” You cross your arms, smile fading, but there’s still that venomous lilt in your voice. “I’ve been thinking for the last, I dunno, two years, what I’d say to you, if I had the displeasure of seeing you.”

There’s a pile of forks behind your bar, that you’d asked Richie for, just in case this situation came to a head. Just in case this fucking idiot came by. But it just doesn’t feel right, now. Doesn't feel right to leap over the counter and stab him in the neck with a fork. Though you've imagined it, and you still actively are.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod, looking around the venue. “But we’re at this beautiful wedding, and Vinnie and Mira don’t deserve to have their reception ruined by us causing a scene.” You gesture to the air between you, almost comical.

He shrugs, “Better than Mikey, in that regard, then.” You know what he’s referring to, despite not being there.

You nod, smiling real big now, really baring your teeth, now. “His fuckin’ house, Lee.”

“I could have your ass fired, y’know.” “So do it.”

You lean forward, elbows on the counter. “I’m not getting paid for this. Please, get me fired. Snitch to Uncle J, c’mon, fire me. I’m delighted to get cut. Do it.”

After what feels like eons of a silent stare down, Uncle Lee throws a fake punch. Carmen’s the only one that flinches, immediately rearing his own fist back, stopping short when Lee does.

You’re still just coy, elbows on the counter. Lee scoffs, “Cokehead.” Of course.

“Yessir.” You just lightly shake your head, standing up straight again, smiling, amused, delighted, even. “That’s me. That’s who I am.” It’s not, but there’s no point in arguing with him— Especially when you agreeing just seems to piss him off more.

You’ve given Lee nothing to work with, to insult you, so it takes him a moment to generate something. “You’re—”

You don’t let him get it out, putting a hand up for him to give it a rest. “Lee, I’m not startin’ a scene, it’s a gorgeous wedding.”

“Oh, how grown of you—” “But, if you wanna have a scene, just wait in the parking lot.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You really think—” “I do. I do think, Lee.”

You lean forward, again, shrugging, speaking nonchalant, speaking with your hands, casually. “I wanna make it so clear, for you, too. I’m not gonna crack my knuckles, not gonna make some empty threats, not gonna scream in your face— I’m not gonna tell you I’m gonna kill you or anything like that. Because obviously, I wouldn’t do that.”

You nod, slowly, methodically, clearly. “What I am gonna say, is that I have been a bartender on and off since I was twenty-one. I was an E-M-T, for three years— All in our beautiful city of Chicago, Illinois. The sheer volume of geriatric white guys I have had to pull to the concrete in a full nelson in both professions— Insurmountable, Lee. So again, to be, so fucking clear, Lee— If I see you outside, I’m taking you to the fucking pavement, and I’m not getting off.”

Uncle Lee’s got no comeback, for this, but he’d be dead in the ground before he just lets someone have the last word. This is why Uncle Jimmy is more successful. “Oh, I’m sure you fuckin’ would.”

You grin. God, those forks are tempting. Resist. You keep your hands busy by grabbing a maraschino cherry from it's jar behind your bar to snack on. “Enjoy your night, Lee.”

“You’re a real fuckin’ bi—” A fork flies over his shoulder, clattering behind him. Not from you, from Carmen.

He speaks for you. “Enjoy your night, Uncle Lee.”

It feels good to be backed. Carmen’s here, and he’s on your team. You tack on, waving goodbye to the fucker, “Back lot, Uncle Lee.”

Lee pivots his gaze to Carmen, he rolls his eyes, disappointed. “Alright, Donna.”

Carmen goes for another fork, you stop his hand, holding it there, for a second. The metal clatters behind the counter. Lee’s pleased enough with the provocation. Men like him don’t leave until they’ve won something in their heads. He leaves, on his way to the punch bowl, since he’s determined he’s not getting shit from the bar tonight. You and Carmen just watch him, like prey, making sure he leaves without looking back.

“You’ve got teeth.” Carmen’s first to speak, cleaning a glass, both of you looking straight ahead. You nod.

“I do.”

“You don’t bite much.”

You shrug. “Try not to.”

Carmen considers the fact that what he wants to say would mean sticking his foot in his mouth. He then considers the fact that nothing he could say now will ever be worse than what he said then. He keeps rubbing away at a perfectly shining glass.

“You didn’t bite me.”

“I didn’t.” You nod, and your body goes on autopilot, as you start making a drink no one’s ordered. Just need something to do. “I couldn’t.”

He doesn’t like that answer. “I deserved it.”

“I deserved it, too.” You’re not a big fan of your own answer, either. But you can’t say it’s not true. You deserved it. Just some failure leech trying to reattach yourself to people through merry good deeds, as if they’d add up to fucking anything—

“No, you didn’t.” He pivots to you, tone inarguable. He puts the glass down. It’s a lowball, you need a lowball, you grab it from him.

“Do you like cognac or vodka?” You ignore his words, but you look him in the eyes. You regret it.

He lets you get away with it, because he is absolutely not the one allowed to lead the conversation, here. He did enough bulldozing, before.

“I dunno, I don’t really drink much.” You squint, you’ve seen his apartment. He clarifies. “Other than wine n’ beer.”

You nod. You opt for cognac. He watches you, for a moment, before asking. “What’re you—”

You’re already finished, by this point, sliding the glass over to him. “Black lavender latte. Cognac n’ coffee liqueur. If it’s too strong, let me know, I can add more milk.”

“Thank you, Chef.” Is all he can think to say. He takes a sip. It’s far behind in his long list of regrets, but certainly one of them in the way he spoke to you, is that there’s a strong chance he will never have a mixologist as talented as you working at The Bear.

“Hmm.” You hum, not watching him drink it, because you won’t be able to handle either reaction— You won’t be able to handle disgust nor pleasure. You never want to look at Carmen again. He’s also all you want to see. This sucks. You suck. Carmen sucks.

“Thank you for the coffee earlier, too.” You’re overjoyed at the verbal confirmation he drank it.

“Figured you’d need one.”

“I did.” He thinks about it, and decides to take the bullet. “Needed yours.”

Your breath hitches, and he can’t tell whether or not that’s a good thing. He doesn’t get the chance to ask, as a meek and overly sweaty man comes up to your bar. There are bar stools at your counter, though they’ve been tucked far under it to keep the flow of traffic moving. But the man points down to the stool, silently asking. You nod.

“You can sit, sir.”

He’s delighted. He sits. “Sorry, I’m not gonna sit long, I just uh— Just—” He turns around pointing to the Maid of Honour, who’s just gotten on the hot mic for her speech. “I uhm, it’s— Usually the bar is empty, when uh, when people are talking.”

“That they are.” You nod, smile soft. “Can I get anything for you, or d’you just wanna sit? No shame in that.”

“I— I, uh, if it’s not a bother— I was just wonderin’ if uhm— Totally fine, if it’s— If it is— Do uhm, do you— Do you do mocktails?”

Carmen watches you grow ten times softer, in demeanor. It’s wonderful, how you’re able to flip on a dime. It’s wonderful what you’re willing to give to people, when they deserve it. You nod. “Yeah, sir. What’s your drink?”

“Oh— I— Anything’s fine, really.” He plays with the loose strings on the cuff of his left sleeve.

You tilt your head, recognizing his nervousness. “If it’s not too personal, sir, are you…” You debate the best way to say it. “Taking twelve steps?”

He looks scared, initially, to be caught; but then he looks at your face, and he knows he has nothing to be worried about. He nods. “One— Two months, two weeks, one day.”

“That’s huge.”

He shrugs. “It’s a start.”

“A start is huge.” You emphasize, and he nods, because that’s inarguable. “What was your drink before? I can make a mocktail of that— Or maybe you’d prefer somethin’ total opposite?”

“Oh! Yeah, I uh, I liked uh, old-fashioneds, but you can’t really make those without whiskey—”

“Yeah, you can.” You’re already grabbing your shaker. “You just use barley tea. I can do that— If you want that.”

He thinks on it, for a second. Debates whether nostalgia is good or not. “Yeah, yeah I’d like that.”

While you work on it, the guy feels enough confidence, bestowed by you, to tell you about himself. “I liked sitting. That was the thing I liked about drinking. The sitting and the talking and the feeling good about it.”

“I hear that.” You watch the tea steep, nodding. “Reason why the phrase is ‘takes the edge off’.”

Carmen has to turn around. He’s listening intently, but he has to turn around. Again, he’s pretty good at hiding his tells, but you’re pretty good at reading them. And you’d be able to tell his flat expression is the equivalent of being absolutely fucking bug eyed on anyone else. You’re a bartender. You were a paramedic. You have seen so many people, on their worst day— Seen so many people like this guy, like his brother. You have taken care of so many addicts.

The number of times he said loser or junkie to your face, and the way that that was what you always fought back on. It will not stop replaying, in Carmen’s head. The way you think that wasn’t okay, but the way he spoke about you was. It’s all just nauseating. You’re so good to everyone but you. You defend everyone but you. Carmen's almost furious about this, though he doesn't feel he has the right to be. You should've treated him like Uncle Lee. He acted exactly like Uncle Lee. 

“It can make it easier, to be at the bar, for some people, I've found.” You continue, still making conversation with the man as you stir the steeped tea into the glass, over ice. “Makes you feel normal.” Forced sobriety is definitely in the top five, of the most ostracizing human experiences.

He nods, relieved to have someone. “Most people don’t get that.”

You nod, strain out the virgin old-fashioned, and push the glass to him across the counter. “Well, I get that.”

He takes a sip of the mocktail, it’s perfectly nostalgic in a way that doesn’t hurt. “Thank you.” He’s thanking you for a lot more than the drink. 

“A pleasure.” You nod. He stands up, tucking the stool back under the counter, as the speeches end. It won’t be long until the bar is crowded again, and he knows it’ll be too much, for him or you. You add. “Good luck with month three. It's a heavy one.”

“If you work it and you’re worth it.” He recites the line incorrectly on purpose, it’s an important one, but you both still laugh at it. Like an inside joke, practically. You give one quick dap, he puts a twenty in your tip jar, and walks off, with less sweat, and more spring in his step, this time. Good.

When he walks away, before guests start to stand, there’s a lull of silence. You don’t need to look at Carmen to know he has a million different thoughts, and a million more follow ups. 

“You have questions?”

“None of my business.” He sniffs, awkwardly. “Unless you want it to be.”

Why did he have to fucking say it like that. Why did he have to put the ball in your court. Carmen fucking sucks. Y’know what, no, turn it on his ass.

“Did you give the New York Exec my number?”

“No.” The reply is instant. He doesn’t get thrown by the topic change in the slightest. You were pretty sure you knew the answer, but the speed of it is still a little surprising. Like it wasn’t something that was ever up for debate.

“What’d you say to him, then?”

This is when he looks embarrassed, just slightly. This part was up for debate, seemingly. “We—”

“Everyone, please stay in your seats for just a moment, our wonderful catering crew will be coming around to serve you!” Says… Vinnie’s mom? Mira’s mom? They all kind of blend together. It’s not long after this, that Syd rolls by with Marcus and a cart of food. She’s starting with you, despite the fact that you’re not a guest. Sweetie.

“Salmon or chicken?”

“Just gimme both, we’ll split it.” You nod your head to Carmen. “Best of both worlds.”

And then, the game of eye contact conversation ensues. A game that Carmen nor Marcus can comprehend.

‘I asked you’ Syd glares.

‘You can’t just starve him out’ You deadpan.

‘Who said?’

“Syd.” You say aloud. She sighs, handing you both plates, mumbling ‘whatevers’, walking off to serve the actual guests. No time to bicker. You look to Marcus, worried. “Heard about the cake, how’s it goin?”

He shrugs but he’s smirking, proud and bad at hiding it, he hands you a paper plate with a little chocolate cupcake. The floral frosting job is simple, and you know if he had more time, you’d probably be looking at a full realistic rose, but it’s still beautiful. “You tell me. Taste test.”

“Lil sacrilege, to do dessert before dinner, but okay.” You grab a fork from your pile, digging in. “Oh fuck,” You have to laugh. “Marcus— You stress me the fuck out, how do you have time to make shit this good?”

It’s a built-in habit for you, to hand your fork to Carmen. He gives you a moment to realize or pull back. You should but you don’t. He takes it, thankful, and tries the cupcake for himself.

“S’fire, Chef.” He points the fork, emphatically. “‘Specially with what you had.”

“Thank you, Chef.” Marcus nods.

You tilt your head, curious, “Do you even have time to test, though? If this sucked you wouldn’t have time to remake the full cake anyways, would you?”

“No.” He answers bluntly, and you both snort. He adds, “Just wanted to make sure you got dessert, over here.” Just wanted to make sure you ate something.

“Marcus…” You pout, overcome by the sweetness of the sweets Chef. You’ve gotta return the favour. “Gin and juice still your go-to?”

“You tryna get me fucked up at work?”

You shrug, grinning. “Are you tryna get fucked up at work?”

He’s going to say yes, but then he pauses, and looks to his boss. Looks to Carmen. Ah, you don’t run his kitchen— Get that through your head. Of course, Marcus can’t just drink—

Carmen shrugs, smiling, “Are you tryna get fucked up at work, Chef?”

Marcus claps his hands, grinning. “Yessir!”

That makes you feel a little lighter. You nod. “Gin and juice, comin’ up.”

You pour out the pineapple juice— Marcus’ preferred juice, of course you remembered. And Marcus leans over the bar, to watch you stir in the gin, even if it’s just a stupid simple drink, the guy loves to learn.

He asks, “How much they payin’ you, tonight?”

You shake your head, “Tips. Nothin’ else.”

Carmen’s ears burn, at that, while he evenly divides and plates out the salmon and chicken plates so you both have a little of everything. If things were normal you could just eat off each other's plates.

Marcus tilts his head, just as surprised. “You in debt, too?”

“Just to Mikey.” You smile, shaking your head. “No, I’m doin’ this in exchange for Uncle J getting me out of work early, a couple weeks back.”

“That’s it?”

“I was in a rush.” You shrug, measuring out the simple syrup. “Got like thirty missed texts from Syd, I thought someone fuckin’ died, didn’t have time to bargain.”

“Wait—” Marcus cannot help but grin, nearly laughing, at the ridiculousness of it, at how bad you got fucked over, by your own permission. “You’re here because you… left work… to go deliver Nat’s baby?”

“Yessir.” Are you fucking serious? Carmen can’t help but stare at the side of your head, for just a few seconds, before going back down to the plates. You’re in this hellscape of a bar, three states from your home, because you were delivering his niece? You did that for them already, and promised yourself for this, in order to do that?

“You know me,” You hand Marcus his glass, and you shouldn’t make the joke, but you can’t help yourself. “Modern day Christ.”

Marcus stifles down his snort, turning his head away from Carmen, to look at the ground. You do the same. There is something painful, about it all, for everyone; but Carmen can’t say that pain isn’t deserved, on his end, so he takes it. You’re allowed to joke about it all you want, if that’s what it takes for you to feel lighter.

A timer goes off on Marcus’ phone. He takes a sip from his gin and juice, nodding in approval, “Oh, shit— Alright, cool times up—” He lifts the glass to you, you hurriedly get the point and grab a random empty cup to clink with him, cheers.

“I’ll be back.” He says. Doubtful, you think. But you nod and wave him off nonetheless.

“If T needs a drink, tell her to take five.” You haven’t seen her tonight, but you realize yourself, again, once you say this. Not your kitchen. “Uh— If that’s, that’s okay—”

“Tell Chef to take a break if she needs it, we haven’t seen her.” Says Carmen, beside you. We. Don’t read into it. He hates you, and you hate him, actually. Carmen sucks, and so do you.

Marcus nods, and makes his mad dash off as a tsunami of guests that have just gotten their plates decide now that they want a drink with their meal. Sonofabitch.

God, you need a break. It’s really hitting you, and your stomach. As full as everyone’s tried to keep you, you really need to just sit down and have your fucking plate. Working behind a bar is a nightmare on the feet and back— Your earrings feel heavy, and your bracelets feel like handcuffs. It’s just all too much, without a break. You need a nap and maybe a thirty-minute session of just staring at a wall.

But the tsunami.

Carmen watches your side profile, and thinking back in his head, the collage of memories forming your face— He’s never seen you genuinely fatigued before. He’s seen you in the middle of the night, he’s seen you caught off guard, seen you distressed— But you’ve never really been one to ask for a break. It’s always yes of course it’s done, with you. It’s your best and worst trait.

As the crowd closes in, and your face morphs into a smile, ready to serve, Carmen claps his hands together, calling out to the sea. “Ey, sorry everyone, we’re just gonna take a quick thirty, alright? Union mandated.”

There is no such thing as a Bartender’s Union, you and Carmen very well know that. You’re about to call it off and say it’s fine before someone can throw an empty glass at your head or something, but instead, a scrawny but wide built, deeply New York Italian man, at the front of the crowd nods.

And as he nods, the crowd groans. He looks deeply offended by this. He turns to his fellow guests. “Where do y’all get off? We fought for those thirty-minute breaks, you fucks!” This quiets them pretty quickly. “We can live with the fuckin’ punch bowl for thirty minutes, c’mon.”

Carmen gets close enough to whisper to you, but far enough that it’s still not personal. Far enough that he still hates you. “Most of the family does or did service work. Say ‘union mandated’ and you can do anythin’”

You smile, watching the crowd dissipate, you crack a joke, because that’s probably what you’re supposed to do. “Union mandated… Murder?”

“Revolt, y’mean?” “Is that an offer?” “I’d ride for you.”

It’s supposed to be light and fun, but you can’t stop yourself, you can’t play the part and it comes out. “Would you?”

That one hurts. It all hurts, but that one really gets Carmen. That you’d have genuine reason to have pause about his dedication to you. Not your fault, his.

You grab your plate from his side of the counter, embarrassed by your instinctual prod. “Sorry.”

He’s not embarrassed by his. “Stop apologizing.”

There’s a heavy silence, before Carmen adds, “I’m supposed to be fuckin’ apologizing.”

There are no more interruptions. Fak isn’t going to come by, patrons are leaving you be, the staff is either helping Marcus or serving food. There is nothing left, to interrupt you two. This is going to happen. Christ, why does Never Let Me Down Again have to be playing right now? That’s not a fucking wedding song. This is too dramatic and simultaneously awkward and clunky and bad. There is no somethings left for you to do. There is nothing left to do, but talk. Nothing left to do but escape the void, ideally together. Please let it be together. You hate to admit it, but you want it to be together.

There is no good place to sit. So, you pick up your plate, and one of the many forks from your pile. With a sigh, you crouch down, and slide yourself underneath the counter, sitting with your legs folded, so Carmen can join you. You nod to him, to let him know that he can in fact join you.

He does. You take a few bites, in silence, before he breaks it.

“I didn’t mean a fuckin’ word.”

“It’s okay if you did.” You can’t look up from your plate. You deserved it.

He says your name, with a severity, to it. “—I didn’t mean a fucking word.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

“I—” Despite rehearsing what he wanted to say, and having ample stage to say it, he does not know how to say any of it, anymore. “I was like, like, jealous? But not in the— Not in the normal way.”

“Normal way?”

“Like, I didn’t— Well I did— But I like—” He puts his fork down, “I saw you as competition.”

You don’t know what to say, and so he keeps going. “I saw you like… Like being so perfect at everything, and being so… Being so what everyone needed, and you being there, and and— I felt so… the way you can just do that— Like— Like you can just be you and it just works. And I just fucking can’t.”

A talent you share with his brother. A talent Carmen envied in Mikey, and thus, envies in you.

“And then I got so… weird about that thought. Like you being you is— You’re for everyone. And I got this idea in my head that…” He cringes, trying to find better wording in his head for it, and he can’t. “That you were for me.”

“But you’re not for me—” “Ouch.” “—Not what I meant.”

He thanks you, internally, for being willing to add levity, right now. “I lo— I like you, so much. And I don’t want you to change. If you were like…” He half gestures to himself, which you’re not a big fan of the deprecation, but you let it slide. “Cold, and not for anyone, you wouldn’t be… you.”

Carmen realized as much, watching you tonight. Watching you interact with full strangers to long time friends. If you were callus, you wouldn’t be you. If you didn’t love his family as much as he did, he wouldn’t have attached himself to you, so quickly. He loves the way that you love. The way that you can’t turn it off. It’s not that Carmen isn’t special. It’s that you are so fucking special. He’s fucking stupid for not connecting those dots, earlier.

He picks up his fork again, needing to do something with his hands. Your brows remain furrowed, as you try to walk back how he spiraled from what and where. 

“So, you just wanted to take me down a peg?”

He shakes his head. “It— I— With Mikey, I— I saw some shit that made me think that I was just… fillin’ a gap, or you were just being so good to me out of like… Guilt.” He chews down on his salmon. “And I couldn’t find your fuckin’ invoice, so I just kept drilling into my head that I was just… Charity.”

“You’re not charity.” You’re quick to refute.

“You didn’t fail Mikey.” So is he.

Oh Christ. You nod, but you don’t believe it. “You weren’t wrong to say it.” You have to put your plate down. “I— I don’t see you like I saw Mikey, at all. But I do…” You trail off, just looking at him has you tearing up.

He leaves home so early. He comes home so late. He looks so tired. Gaunt. Has he been eating? Did he light his oven on fire again? Remember how he looked in the freezer. Remember how Mikey looked in the freezer? Remember how they are so so different. They are so different but you still can’t stop connecting every fragment and taking it as a sign and worrying so fucking much, so fucking paranoid—

“Do what?” He swallows his last bite of chicken, and you can’t stop looking at him and fuck you just can’t hold it back, this time. You were doing so good about this. This isn’t even the point of the conversation— Well, kind of. Just breathe.

As your eyes begin to water, he sets his plate aside on the floor, reaching out immediately, worried, immediately. He pauses, hand floating in the air. Hesitating. “Fuck—Can I?”

Eyes barely open, you nod. He’s quick to take your plate from your hands, set it aside, and hug you there. It’s awkward, underneath a bar counter, half sitting, half crouching, grappling you. Carmen does not wish to be anywhere else.  

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and babble, unable to hold back a fear that’s been long standing, since the day you met him.

“Sometimes you remind me of Mikey so much and I get so scared and I just— Fuck, I just— Please don’t kill yourself, Carmen.” His arms wrap around just a bit tighter, as do yours. “I know that’s selfish—”

“It’s not.” Mumbled, to your neck. Skin to skin isn’t really the focal point, here, but there is a lurking part of his subconscious fearing that he will never be able to hug you like this, again. Never be your rock. “I won’t.”

It’s silent, for a minute. You believe him. He holds you there, and you believe him.

“Why did you think all that? That you were filler?” You pull back, just a bit, to look at his face. “Did I do something to make you feel like that?”

“No— God no. You’re—” He swallows. It feels stupid now, to even say how his fucking tantrum started, you had it so much worse, in your head. Why didn’t you tell him? “I was looking for your invoice, and—”

“I forgot the booths, by the way.” You recall the shoddy invoice you wrote. It’s a stupid time to interrupt, but as you slowly grow more comfortable, inches from his face, it feels like the time to be stupid. “And taxes. I owe you something more like eighteen-seventy.”

“You don’t owe me shit.”

“I’m paying back a Berzatto, somehow.”

“Where’d that money come from?”

“Where’d your tirade come from?”

He swallows again, getting back to the point. “I found a folder. Called ice chips, or something like that— But it wasn’t for ice. It was, for you.”

You look at him, genuinely perplexed for a second. Then you get it. And it makes a lot more sense, why Carmen knows you failed Mikey—Try as he might to deny it. “Oh… You found my Ice folder.”

“Fuck’s that mean?” You’re glad, honestly, that he’s never had a reason to learn what it means. It’s fair. You had to teach it to Mikey, too.

“Ice. I-C-E, Carmen. It’s an acronym.” You spell it out, slow. “In Case of Emergency. I-C-E.”

It knocks the wind out of him, immediately. He’s extra glad he’s holding onto you, because he’s starting to feel untethered. “What?”

You nod. It’s time to walk him through it. You have to tell him. “I made Mikey keep some sort of emergency stuff as a fail-safe, for when he forgot people wanted him alive.” When Carmen’s quiet, you continue. “I was in his work cabinet, I think Richie was in his bedside, you and Sug were in his wallet.”

His stomach lurches, at the idea of being the emergency his brother always had on him. “You knew he was suicidal?”

Who didn’t? You think, but don’t say, because that’s not fair. Mikey cut him out, how could he know?

“Everyone’s suicidal, when they’re trying to get sober.”

“What?”

“What?” You parrot back. It’s both your turns, to squint at the other, confused beyond belief now. How is he confused? You’re first to ask. “Carmen, what was in my ice folder?”

“Anniver— Oh my fucking God.” He unwraps himself from you, because he’s frankly too ashamed to touch you, realizing everything he misunderstood. “Oh, my fucking God.”

You let him go, though you don’t particularly want to. He’s probably realizing he’s hugging the enemy. 

“Carmen—?” “You didn’t fucking date Mikey.”

“What?!” You jump, your head hits the bottom of the base of the bar’s sink. “Fuck! Ow, no— What?!”

It’s a mess of limbs and emotions, as he grabs your head haphazardly, seeing if you’re hurt— It honestly hurts more, to be pulled around like this. “Are you o—” You don’t let him finish, grabbing at his wrists, ignoring your sore head.

“You thought I’d fuck your brother and then—What— try to fuckin’ get the whole set?” You’re cringing at the thought. This had just never come up in your mind. You would’ve set him straight, if it did. It was way worse in his head. Why didn’t he tell you? “I— Carmy, babydoll, are you fucking insane?”

You say nice pet names, when you’re perplexed. You’ve got a pattern of doing so. He also has no comeback for this, completely mum. You release his wrists. You add, again, aghast. “How old do you think I am?”

“Ah— As old as Syd?” “Correct.” “So, twenty-eight?”

“Turning, but yeah.” You nod, like a teacher walking him through a problem. “And how old was Mikey?”

“Forty something.” “Forty-three.” “No one remembers their brothers’ age—” “Sixteen years. Carmen.”

You press your hands over your eyes. “And listen, I get at a point age is just a number but I was twenty-five when I met him and he was already fucking forty— I grew up with Muppet Babies and he grew up with Muppets. Period end of sentence.”

You sigh. This situation isn’t funny at all, but you feel a load lighten off of you significantly. And also the situation is extremely funny. It’s hard to be mad at someone this thrown off. 

“It’s just— Listen, do I think Mikey’s hot? Absolutely—”

“Alright—” He cringes, putting a hand in the air, asking you to lay off this train of thought.

“Oh, what do you want me to say ‘your genetic make-up fucking sucks actually’? No, you have a hot family, Carmen.”

“Say this in any other way but this one.”

“I did not date your brother, Carmen.” You finalize, he breathes lighter. “Think about it for like more than two seconds. Richie would’ve fuckin’ run his mouth about it immediately— Would’ve said you’re getting sloppy seconds or call me a fuckin’ homie hopper—”

“I did think that he’d say that, yeah.”

“Well fuckin’ think harder on it, next time—” “Well, what about the joint bank account?”

The most romantic paperwork he’d ever seen. It makes you pause, and Carmen’s considers a universe where you’re just the most incredible pathological liar in existence. 

“I made him make it.” You finally say, saddened just thinking about the failsafe that didn’t fucking work. “I didn’t put any money in it.”

“Why’d you want it, then?” The idea of you dating his brother quiets in his head, now he just wants to listen.

“So I could keep track of his spending and withdrawals.” You pick up your fork and twirl it around, like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Need something to do with your hands. “Mostly his withdrawals.”

Carmen thinks about it, trying to tie together the red strings in his head without asking you first. “So you could see if he was buying.”

“If he knew he was being watched, he was less inclined to deal.” You shrug and nod. “Plus I wanted him to get into the habit of keeping savings.”

“Lotta good that did.” Carmen can’t help but laugh, pitifully, at that. “Everythin’ got claimed, when he kicked it.”

You shake your head, you tuck your knees to your chest. “Not everything.”

He just looks at you, curious, waiting for you to explain. Mikey had so much credit card debt— Everything he had outside of fucking tomato cans was claimed. 

You shrug. “Not the accounts he wasn’t sole proprietor on.”

Joint bank account. It was partially your money, technically. It deferred to you. Carmen’s head just falls over, another painful realization of another thing you did, that he got completely wrong. You never gave Mikey a cent. You just gave him the protection of your name and credit score.

“Why’d you do all that, for him?”

Holy shit, he doesn’t know. Carmen doesn’t actually know you killed Mikey. You live in a world, still, where Carmen doesn’t completely rightfully blame you. You tap your fingers on your knees. Staring aimlessly. There is nothing else to do.

“Anyone ever tell you why I get called Chip?”

“I asked Richie. Said to ask you.” Carmen shakes his head, he’s a bit sick of himself, for being almost excited to get an answer about this. “Said it was personal.”

You squint and snort. “Since when does Richie give a fuck about personal?”

Carmen smiles, finally, and tucks his knees to his chest to mimic you. “Since me, I guess.”

“Good influence.” You smile, trying to distract from the nervousness, thrumming hard in your chest. Spit collects in your throat like it’s trying to choke you. “I uhm… Chippy is, uh, Mikey started calling me Chip or Chippy cause of uhm—”

You take a moment, one deep breath. A breath of air in the world before Carmen knows. A sanctimonious breath.

You pull at the long black rope chain on your neck, pulling it out from underneath your top, where it’s always been safely tucked. Not hidden necessarily, just always close to your chest. Close to your heart.

“It’s a joke, about— It’s like—”

Just do it, Chip. Let it rip.

“It’s—”

You hold out your fist for him to put his hand out and take it. Carmen gets the point and holds his palm out. You press the pendant into his hand. Holding your hand over it, for a moment, as if you could decide now that actually he shouldn’t be allowed to see this. Like there’s still an escape option, somehow.

You move your hand, you try to speak calmly, as he stares. And the text on the large round pendant stares back at him.

To Thine Own Self Be True.

“Sobriety chip.” Unity, Service, Recovery.

A proud and large 3 months, in the middle of the triangle, leers back at Carmen.

“I was— I was Mikey’s sponsor.”

Now y'all in my asks see why I was waiting, eh?

Ya caught on! Well, after thinking collectively, ya caught on. Some of you got it quick. Anyways, I shouldn't be talking about this like it's some gotcha, it's deeply painful.

A lot of hard confirmations! Fuck! This conversation was so hard to navigate, because I was like-- There's just so much for them to catch up on, and so they keep like moving forward and so I was like wait I have to go back and address this-- No. That's not how most real convos like this work, they just keep running forward, they can clarify later. Such a weird brain challenge. I was tweaking. I hope it's sensical to read? If it's not, dw, i'll walk into the sea about it.

Can you believe this chapter began with Syd/Chip/Richie? Absolutely bonkers. We started with getting ready in a hotel/taking a flight. We were so young, then. I've gotta go watch season 3, so don't send me spoilers, but please send me literally any and all thoughts about this chapter. I really fuckin-- Rah.

I'm happy with this chapter and I honestly think I will probably make a separate post sometime this week showing bits you might've missed-- So much of this was me harkening back to those first three chapters. I went back and reread them recently and I was like woah. I don't know how I did the thing where the writing style felt distant and slowly became close as they became close as characters, but I did feel like that was a thing. In the early chapters. Having to recreate that distant feeling here? Oh fuck. Brutalizing feeling.

Oh but on the more cute side, if you also see Tony as Desi, I was thinkin like a lehenga style blouse with all the work, and like, some black flared pants? and she's got big fuckin jhumkas, OF COURSE!!! OF COURSE BRO!!! But I just left it at semi-cultural so everyone could have fun, hehehe

I feel almost certain, someone's gonna be missing from this tag list, and for that, a thousand pardons, I am gonna put it in my notes app so I don't forget next time, mbmbmb, also added people that did not ask but you are so frequent that i feel like you're just forgetting to ask? idk if you wanna get taken off always just ask dw

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @sharkluver @fridavacado @hoetel-manager @mrs-perfectly-fine

anyways, if you wanna be added send me your thoughts/analysis/diagnosis at length + ask to be added and i will ! try! sometimes they get lost and i am sorry abt that but i do try!

Next Part

[w2soneshots]

hii! is it okay to request a tobi fic where everyone knows him and reader like each other cs they're constantly flirting, but they aren't tgt yet bc neither of them feel brave enough to actually confess? i hardly see any fics of my boy on here it's so sad 🥲 but ofc u dont have to write it if u dont want to!! thankyou 😋

Miss me? -Tobjizzle

words: 0.7k+

warnings: none!

summary: when you and Tobi finally realise you’re ment for each other you leave for Australia and have to be apart for a whole month, but the reunion makes it all worth it.

notes: sorry this took so long for me to write babe! it’s been at the top of my list for ages and i’ve only just gotten around to finishing it🙈. i hope you enjoy!!😚🫶🏼💝 (i think i may be out of my writers block slump… fingers crossed🤞🏼)

"Hi Tobes!" You greeted your best friend with a bright smile and a hug after just walking into the bar to meet him, the other sidemen and their spouses.

He returned your enthusiasm and you slipped straight into a conversation, the others at the table -unintentionally- being forgotten.

"So, what've you been up to?" He asked, leaning back into the booth as you sipped your drink. "Not much, though I'm going on month long solo backpacking trip to Australia in two weeks," you replied calmly.

His eyes widened slightly. "Oh wow... a month? You never mentioned that." He added, trying not to show the disappointment that he wouldn't see you for that long in his voice. "Mhm," you hummed in response, "I guess it just slipped my mind, I booked it all ages ago."

The two of you spent the remainder of the night talking. The boys would often complain about how when Tobi and you were both at the function no one else could get a word in edge ways, though you didn't bat an eyelid at their words.

After that night the amount you and Tobi texted, called and visited each other's apartments increased dramatically, though it wasn't something ether of you did on purpose. You saw him every other day and you were beginning to notice the growing tension between you two.

You'd never looked at him as a possible boyfriend candidate but suddenly you were seeing him in a completely different light, though you were too nervous to say anything.

A week before you left for Australia it finally happened... you were sat on your couch with Tobi next to you in your apartment, watching a random movie after you'd just shared a large dominos pizza.

You'd slowly been moving closer together throughout the last half an hour, you were now so close that you could feel his warmth through your hoodie. His gaze was on you, you could feel it and when you looked up at him and stared into his deep brown eyes you knew you were absolutely fucked.

The kiss felt so natural... so right, like you weren't kissing your best friend but someone you'd been with for years. When you eventually pulled away, now straddling his lap as his hands sat on your hips the both of you laughed, a slightly relieved and happy laugh that broke any tension that still lingered in the room.

For the next five days you barely left each other's arms. It was like everything now made sense. You'd finally found your person and he'd been right in front of your eyes for years.

When it eventually came time for you to leave he drove you to the airport and squeezed you so hard you thought your eyes might've popped out of your head. "I'm gonna miss you so fucking much," he mumbled into your hair.

Once you pulled back you kissed him, a long sweet kiss, a goodbye. "We'll text every day and call at three in the morning," you reminded him lightheartedly. You knew the completely different time zones were going to be frustrating but it was a month, only a month.

Even though you'd officially been together for under a week it felt like forever and leaving during the start of a relationship, which was always so exciting, was hard.

The first week of your trip was okay, texting him seemed to be filling the Tobi shaped hole in your life and you were keeping yourself super busy but you missed him, bad.

You had one of the best trips of your life, saw so many things, had the greatest experiences, ate some amazing food, met new people and loved every moment though by the time it was time to go home you were ecstatic.

When you got off the plane and spotted your boyfriend standing across the airport with a big bouquet of red roses in his hands you ran, actually ran, towards him. He scooped you up in his arms and you both let out a deep sigh of relief.

"Miss me?" You asked teasingly, your arms looped around his neck as you looked up at him. He chuckled. "More than you'll ever know."

That night was spent in his apartment, limbs intertwined as you just enjoyed being in each other company, the Australia stories could wait till tomorrow, for now you just wanted to simply be.

[cherrygirlfriend]

ice cold pairing: stanford!bsf!art donaldson x iceskater!reader synopsis: you injure your foot while ice skating, your best friend takes care of you. warnings: fluff! wc: 700 this is very me coded because i literally slipped and injured my foot to the point i couldn't walk properly for two weeks. or the time i fell down the stairs and broke my ankle. bottom line is; i'm as clumsy as the mc of a wattpad story. originally posted 12/19/2024

being on ice felt almost like a second nature to you, and art loved watching you skate, whether it was for an ice show or for a skating competition, watching your white skates almost blending in with the ice as you turned, spun, and jumped in a way that caused his heart to jump in his chest so naturally, he thought that it'd be a great idea to take you out to a skating rink.

you blew on the hot chocolate you held in your hands, covered by a pair of white mittens decorated with adorable pink snowflake patterns, "you do know that i skate every day?" you said with a chuckle, your brows raised and your cheeks stinging from the cold.

"yeah, but you never skate with me." he shrugged, sitting down to put his skates on his feet; honestly, he was sure he was going to fall, not having gone ice skating since he was a teenager himself; he actually had to borrow patrick's ice skates. luckily, they shared the same shoe size.

"have you thought it's because i skate every day?"

"yeah, but you play tennis with me." he quipped back, making you roll your eyes, "i just thought it'd be a fun idea!"

"it is a fun idea." you shrugged, finishing the last of the hot-now-lukewarm chocolate, before placing the mug down, starting to put on your own skates, ones you always wore when you practiced, "i just like giving you shit for no reason."

"of course you do." he chuckled, the two of you making small talk as you tied your respective skates to your feet, hoping the warm liquid would soon start taking effect and warm up your body.

you rose to your feet, holding your hand out to your boyfriend expectantly, "are you ready to embarrass yourself and fall flat on your ass, donaldson?"

"we'll see who's falling flat on their ass."

"did you put a curse on me, or something?" you mumbled, letting out a hiss as you tried to step on your swollen ankle, art stuttering and trying to get you to stop as he sat you down on the bench next to the rink and took off your skate along with wool sock, a nasty, purple spot starting to form on your ankle. "how bad is it?" you asked, and art could tell how desperate you were feeling, how badly you were hoping, praying it wasn't broken.

it all happened in a split second. you'd been doing a pirouette, something you did tens, if not hundreds, of times a day, and suddenly, you were on the ground.

"i'm pretty sure it's just twisted." art said, both of you letting out nearly identical sighs of relief. art, for your health, and you, for your skating.

"thank god." you sighed, "i haven't gotten properly injured while skating since i was, like, thirteen. i have no idea how this happened.

"maybe you just deserved to fall on your ass." art shrugged, causing you to roll your eyes and smacking his arm while exclaiming that he wasn't funny.

the moment you got home, art basically carried you onto the couch while you kept complaining that you were going to be fine, that his fussing wouldn't do any good, but the blonde immediately put three throw pillows under your foot and bringing an ice pack wrapped in a towel, placing it on your slightly swollen ankle.

"i think you should get this checked tomorrow, just in case." art sighed, "i'm just worried-"

you took his hand, bringing it to your lips and placing a small kiss to the back of it, art's eyes widening slightly, "what was that for?"

"for being fussy."

"obviously." he rolled his eyes, "i'm gonna put on some tea, and we can watch anything you want."

"anything?" you asked with a small grin, making him shake his head.

"i'm not watching another low-budget horror movie."

"you said anything!"

and before he knew it, your foot was on art's lap, an ice pack over it as he massaged your ankle, a half-drunk cup of tea, christmas cookies and a bottle of aspirin placed next to the sofa as you snored while cuddling up to a pillow, art's stanford hoodie covering you, while the blonde was trying to ignore hostel still playing on tv, instead focusing on watching your serene face.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

𝓛𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼

Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader (past)

Summary: After last years incident you don't know if you can move on, but Wanda shows you how real love feels.

Word Count: 1.1K

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, Nat cheats

AU: Pietro is alive :D

Author's note: Merry Christmas! I wasn't planning on making another fic for Christmas, but I was listening to Christmas music while wrapping and well here you go~

Snow was gently falling in New York making everything feel more magical. All the decor was up, the tree fully lit at the Rockefeller center and people were bustling more than usual to get their Christmas shopping done. 

You were trying to pick a gift out for your secret Santa, Wanda. Tony did this every year for his holiday party. You really weren't in the mood for it this year, but you were trying…after last Christmas things didn't feel as magical. 

Last Year

“Come on Tasha! We're gonna be late if you take any longer on your make-up!” You playfully called out. She smirked at you through the mirror. 

“Don't worry Detka, we'll make it.” Her sultry voice wrapped around you. You looked her over as she stood; a tight short black dress, tights, heels to match. Her hair was pulled into a fancy braid she'd mentioned the name of earlier, but you couldn't remember it. 

The party was in full swing by the time you two arrived. You were in fact upset about it because Natasha knows how you hate to be late because of your anxiety. As soon as you set your gift on the table for secret Santa Natasha was gone in the crowd. Interacting with the boys and Maria. You frowned, but went to grab some finger foods and a drink while you found the twins and Vision. The three of them are talking about experiencing Christmas for the first time. 

You sat yourself next to Wanda with the boys across the table on another couch. The four of you talking for a bit before you realized Natasha hadn't come to find you. 

A pout covered your mouth as you got up, “I'll be back guys I'm gonna go check on Tasha.” You excused yourself making your way through the crowd of people, looking everywhere until in the corner of your eye, her dress caught your eye. Your head turning and the glass in your hand falling with a sharp crash to the tiled floor. 

Natasha was kissing Maria. 

You were noticed by many including Natasha who looked like she had regret on her face. Not for the kiss itself, but because she was caught. 

You walked out of that party and didn't look back. 

Present Day

You got yourself ready, looking over yourself in the mirror and then at the clock. You'd be a little early which was perfect. You grabbed your gift for Wanda. It was perfect for her. It was a few different things. 

Tony never had limits on how much to spend. If you got him as your secret Santa you could expect a car or a new place to live.

You got there, hugging Tony with a smile. “I'm surprised you decided to actually come. You even have your gift!” Tony said surprised. You gave him a roll of your eyes. 

“Yeah I wasn't sure if I'd come at first after last year I felt sick thinking about it and about seeing her. I gave her my heart Tony…she gave it away. I decided if I did come this year then…I'd give it to someone special…” you explained to him. Tony was like your annoying older brother. You told him a lot of your problems and he was happy to listen. 

He gave you another hug, a nice tight one where you could smell his cologne clearly, making your nose scrunch up a bit.

“Go get her.” He whispered before letting go. 

It was hours into the party. You'd spent the whole time with the twins. Vision had gone off to talk with Tony at some point and now it was time for secret Santa. You got up, grabbing your gift to Wanda and you were surprised to see she had you as well.

The two of you laughed, deciding to go find her old room in the tower so you two could have a quiet moment to open each other's gifts. 

You both sat across from each other, she was cross legged in her usual black skirt and thigh highs, a low cut tank top and a dark gray cardigan fell off one shoulder that she kept fixing. Rings adorned all her fingers, some having multiple. You smiled as you gave her your gift. 

“Open yours first Wands.” You insisted, making her giggle which had your stomach doing flips. Biting the inside of your cheek to try to hide the effect the witch had on you. 

She opened up the bag that contained a few wrapped gifts. 

“You didn't have to get me so much.” She said with her honeyed accent. 

“I couldn't decide…they all felt like they were perfect for you.” You saw the barely There blush that covered her cheeks as she refused to look up from unwrapping. 

You'd gotten her a new mug that said village witch with a little graphic of a witches hut, the smoke coming out of it a ghost. The next gift was a variety pack of different teas from around the world. The last gift you'd gotten her was a new set of tarot cards. 

“Oh y/n! These are amazing and I love them! I can't wait to try the teas and you're getting the first reading with this tarot deck.” She said, leaning forward to hug you tight. “Now it's your turn!” She squealed excitedly. 

You smiled, taking the gift from her, opening it up, your jaw dropped. You just stared for a minute, speechless before looking up at her. 

“You…you made me a burr basket?” you asked dumbfounded. 

You'd asked Natasha for boo baskets and burr baskets and she never got them or made them and it hurt every time. 

“Yeah you kept talking about them so I wanted to make you one. I hope I did it right. I watched a bunch of tiktoks on making them and how others had them.” She rambled out. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, there was a blanket, slippers, flannel pj's pants, a face mask, eye mask, a little holiday squishmallow, lip balm, your favorite perfume, and some seasonal chocolate. 

“W-Wands…I…i don't have words this is…I…” you physically couldn't form words. You looked up at her and realized the only thing you could do to say thank you was kiss her. 

You moved the gifts out of the way, crawling forward and letting your lips brush against hers, when she didn't pull away you pushed into her, letting your lips pressed together. Your hand cupped her cheek as her lips started to move against yours. 

When you both needed air you pulled back just a little, your foreheads touching. 

“I wasn't expecting that as a thank you, but I won't lie…I've been wanting you to kiss me like that since I came to America…” she confessed. How had you not noticed what was right in front of you this whole time?

“Wands…would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?” You ask softly.

“I thought you'd never ask.” She practically growled before kissing you again. 

This wouldn't be like with Natasha. You knew this was different. You could feel it. 

She was your someone special.

[alwaysmicado]

You wanted this

3.1k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 1

When he gives you this look, you know you're fucked - literally.

Warnings: no outbreak au, implied age gap, alcohol, smut: piv sex, rough oral m and f receiving, rimming, choking, D/s dynamic, creampie, pet names, degradation/praise Summary: Joel and you have a fun dynamic going. You provoke him, he punishes you - you both get off. When you meet him after you’ve fucked someone else, he decides to show you who you belong to. It’s all fun and games, right? A/N: Please read the warnings before you continue! You're about to read unadulterated filth. We're headed straight for Whoreville™️ and there's no getting off early (wink wink). We'll see more of these two for sure... Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 🖤 pt. 2 / series masterlist / AO3

“You look hot,” you purr into Joel’s ear. “Expecting someone special?”

He chuckles and turns to look at you with a smirk. “I actually was. But she was too busy flirting with some random guy over there, so now I’m just entertaining myself with a drink.”

He taps the glass and studies your face. You look especially stunning tonight, your skin is glowing and your smile is illuminating the dimly lit bar.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it flirting,” you coo, playing with the straw of your cocktail. Joel raises an eyebrow in amusement.

“Is that right? What else would you call it, darlin’?”

“Trying to explain to him why I left him alone in bed a few days ago and never returned his calls,” you answer while maintaining eye contact.

“Hmm, and why did you?” Joel asks, taking another sip of his drink.

You scoff and shake your head. “None of your business, Miller.” He gives you a knowing smile and nods. 

“It’s a shame though.” His deep, sultry voice makes you shiver. “I know how nice it is to wake up next to you.” He puts his hand on your knee, causing your skin to heat up and a familiar ache to grow between your legs. 

“You’ve only ever done it once because I was too drunk to go home, so how would you know, hm?” you purr, leaning in to be closer to him.

“So feisty today.” He starts caressing your thigh gently, brushing the hem of your mini dress. “I’m assuming you’re frustrated because you haven’t been fucked right?”

You chuckle and down the rest of your drink. “I dunno, Joel. What would you call not being able to walk for the past three days because he fucked me for hours on end? I’m sure you could still see bite marks on my thighs if you looked closely.” You smirk and open your legs for him to see you’re not wearing any panties. 

Joel’s grip on your thigh tightens, his eyes completely black now. “You wanna act like a whore, baby?” he growls and grips your hip with his other hand. “You know I got no problem treating you like one.”

He starts kissing your neck with his warm wet lips, mumbling into your skin how he’s going to enjoy putting you in your place. Your legs are trembling and you’re moaning softly into his ear. 

He loves seeing you like this - squirming under his touch, pupils blown, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. All because of him.

“Get up,” he orders, “we’re going.”

---

“Last chance, darlin',” Joel growls, “I ain't gonna be gentle, so get the fuck out now if you can't take it.” Oh, now he did it. He's playing you like a fiddle and you both know it.

“Do your worst, old man,” you bite back, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“You’re gonna regret that, sweetheart.” He glowers at you, the darkness in his eyes setting all of your nerves on fire. 

He closes the distance between you two in a few strides and towers over you menacingly. You can feel the heat radiating off his body and smell the irresistible scent that is so uniquely him. The ache between your legs is becoming unbearable. 

Joel leans in, his left hand pulling you close by your waist, his right hand grabbing the back of your neck, forcing you to meet his gaze. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget you ever even met that asshole. You understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you nod, wetness seeping out of your pussy. You fucking love it when he gets like this. 

Joel’s eyes carefully search yours and when he’s satisfied with what he finds, he immediately pulls you close to capture your mouth in a hungry kiss. He’s greedily sucking and biting at your lips, tangling one hand in your hair and squeezing your ass with the other, wanting to devour you - make you his. 

You’re just as eager to give him what he wants, completely pliant under his touch, moaning into his mouth and rubbing yourself on his thigh. 

“Fuck,” Joel pants, breaking the kiss and tracing your swollen bottom lip with his thumb. 

He looks into your glazed over eyes, mesmerized by the fact that such a stunning creature is submitting to him so willingly. He palms himself over his pants, his cock painfully hard and in desperate need of relief.  

“On your knees, baby. Hands on your thighs,” he commands, his gaze never leaving yours while you lower yourself on the floor. “Good girl,” he praises, unzipping his pants and pulling them down together with his boxer briefs just enough to free his heavy cock and balls. 

You gasp at the sight, never really getting used to his sheer size, despite having taken him before. You bite your lip and press your thighs together to relieve at least some of the burning ache in your core.

“God, you’re beautiful when you’re desperate for my cock,” Joel murmurs, tilting your chin up and pressing down on your tongue with his thumb. “My beautiful girl. Now, you’re gonna take what I give you, darlin’. I’m not gonna stop, so don’t even try your whining. The only thing I wanna hear is you gagging on my cock, got it?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good.”

Joel positions himself in front of your mouth and taps your lips with the tip of his cock. “Open up, baby, stick your tongue out.” You do just that and Joel hums approvingly. 

Holding the base with his right hand, he slides his cock into your warm wet mouth in one single thrust until he’s hitting the back of your throat. “Fuuuck, that’s it, baby,” Joel groans. “I’ve missed your perfect mouth so much.” 

You gag and sputter, trying to move your head to relax your throat for a second, but Joel is faster than you, gripping the back of your head with both of his hands, effectively holding you in place. 

“Nuh-uh, princess,” he tuts mockingly, “where do you think you’re going, huh?” Your eyes are watering and you feel like you’re choking, but Joel just smirks at you. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. I want you to look at me while I’m fucking your pretty face.” And with that he sets a punishing pace, bucking his hips into your mouth over and over again. 

You’re gorgeous - on your knees, reduced to a crying, drooling mess over his cock. Joel's clenching his teeth, every muscle in his body strained while forcing you to take his length. 

“You’re doing so well, baby. So perfect for me,” he groans, sending shivers down your spine. Your clit is throbbing and you can feel yourself growing wetter with every second.

When one of Joel’s thrusts hits particularly deep, you instinctively brace your hands against his thighs, trying to push him away. He just laughs at you, tightening his grip on your neck. 

“Poor baby,” he scoffs, “not used to my big cock anymore? Why fuck that loser if he doesn’t even do it right, hm?” Your cheeks are burning and you shove at his legs again. “Keep doing that,” Joel chuckles. “you look so cute when you try to fight me.” 

He thrusts his hips a few more times before pulling out with a strangled groan and releasing your head. “Don’t wanna come yet,” he mumbles. You’re immediately gasping for air, chest heaving, tears still spilling down from your now closed eyes. Joel scoops up the thick string of saliva that connects his cock with your lips and spreads it on your cheeks. His soft touch doesn’t match the filthy action.

He crouches down so he’s on your level and tilts your head up gently. “Hey, look at me,” he scans your face. “You okay?”

Your eyes meet his concerned gaze. “Yeah, yeah. Just needed a second to breathe,” you reassure him.

He looks at you intently for a moment longer before getting up and motioning to the bed. “Take your clothes and shoes off and lie on your back.” 

You get up and pull your dress over your head, take off your heels and sway your hips on your way to Joel’s bed. It smells like him and you hate that you can’t stay and fall asleep here. Pull him close at night, savor his warmth, marvel at his precious sleepy face in the morning. 

As soon as you’re lying in the middle of the bed, your head propped up on Joel’s pillows, he walks towards you. “Spread your pretty legs for me, darlin’. I wanna see how wet you got choking on my cock.” 

You slowly open your legs while keeping eye contact. Joel sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of your puffy and glistening cunt. He unbuttons his shirt hastily, letting it fall to the floor. “Touch your clit, baby,” he pants, unlacing his shoes and keeping his eyes on you. 

You obey and start circling your neglected bundle of nerves with two fingers. A desperate moan escapes your lips as you’re finally able to get some relief. Joel takes off his shoes and pants, staring at you for a second before climbing on the bed and stopping between your legs.  

“Fuck, baby, you’re so beautiful.” He slowly traces your legs with his fingertips, enjoying how you writhe under his touch. When he stops just at the apex of your thighs, you whine desperately, only for him to do it again.

“Please touch me, Joel, please,” you whimper, unable to keep your composure anymore. He sits back on his heels and keeps caressing your thighs while you’re continuously drawing circles on your clit. 

“D’you fuck him raw?” he asks, grabbing your wrist to halt your movement.

You gaze into his dark eyes and shake your head, “No.”

He nods and starts peppering your thighs with kisses, gripping your hips with his calloused hands.

“Good,” he murmurs, nipping and biting at your soft skin, “‘cause I’m not wearing a goddamn condom with you. Gonna pump you so full of my cum you’ll be leaking me until I fill you up again.”

You whimper at the prospect of feeling Joel’s warm cum deep inside you again and try to shift your hips, so he’ll finally touch you where you most need him.

“Mmm, yeah baby, I like the thought of that, too,” he smirks, his face now hovering right above your wet cunt. “But I really wanna taste you first.” He starts by spreading your lips with his hands, opening you up for him to look at you fully exposed.

“Fuck me, sweetheart,” he groans, “you have the cutest little pussy I’ve ever seen.” He draws the hood of your clit back with his right thumb, keeping your lips spread with his left middle and index finger. You mewl at the sensation, spurring him on to finally latch his lips onto your yearning clit, sucking eagerly before licking a broad stripe from your asshole up to your wet slit. 

“Oh fuuuck!” you cry out, clawing at the sheets when he repeats the motion with his tongue, now also circling your clit with his thumb.

“Mmm, you taste divine, darlin’.” He slides two fingers inside your warm cunt, pumping them in and out of you steadily. The squelching sounds from your pussy mixed with the sound of your breathy moans are making Joel dizzy. 

Right when he feels your walls starting to clamp down around his fingers, he stops his movements. “Turn around for me, baby. Ass up face down,” he orders, sitting back on his heels to watch you get into position. 

“Good girl,” he purrs, “being so good for me, doing everything I say”. He caresses your ass cheeks and the backs of your thighs before dragging his nose through your wet folds, inhaling your intoxicating scent. Your whole body shivers at the sensation.

Joel starts sucking on your clit again while fucking you with two of his thick fingers. You clench around him, the way he’s rhythmically pumping his fingers in and out of you almost enough to send you over the edge right then. 

“Fuck, baby, so sensitive today,” Joel teases, licking from your clit up to your asshole. He starts lapping at the tight ring eagerly, reducing you to a whimpering, trembling mess when he dips his tongue inside of you repeatedly. “Mmm, I love the pretty little sounds you make for me,” he groans, wiping his mouth and chin with his forearm.

He spreads your cheeks and looks at your exposed holes in awe. You look absolutely delicious and Joel wants nothing more than to bury himself as deep inside you as possible. He laps your juices up thirstily, the vibrations from his moans sending shockwaves through your whole body. His throbbing cock is leaking precum, screaming for attention.  

“I need to fuck you, baby” Joel hisses, manhandling you onto your back. He’s on you in an instant, kissing you hungrily, his hand gripping your jaw.

You squirm underneath him, tilting your pelvis to gain some friction. “Please, Joel, please fuck me.”

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he finally aligns his tip with your core and pushes his cock into your wet hole in one quick thrust. You gasp at the intense sensation of him splitting you open, not allowing you any time to adjust to his size.

“Oh fuck, baby, your cunt is gripping me so hard I can barely move,” Joel moans breathlessly, rolling his hips to pump his cock inside of you again and again. 

His pelvis puts delicious pressure on your swollen clit and you start to push against his thrusts to chase your high. Joel grabs your legs and puts them over his shoulders, kissing and biting your calves until you scream. The new angle allows him to hit a spot deep inside you that has you quivering and shaking, bringing you closer to your orgasm with each powerful thrust of his hips. 

“Oh fuck, Joel, you feel so fucking good,” you moan, throwing your head back and curling your toes. He grins, reaching around your legs to grab your soft tits with his hands. He massages them roughly, tweaking your nipples until you cry out in pain.

“You’re so perfect for me,” Joel pants, mesmerized by the way your body moves under him. “My perfect little slut.”

Your cunt involuntarily clenches around him and you can’t hold back the needy moan that escapes your lips.

“Oh, the princess likes that, huh” Joel teases. “Likes when I call her my little slut?” You furrow your brow and nod at him. “Mmm I like it, too,” he groans while continuing to snap his hips at an unrelenting pace. “Always want you to be my slut. Mine.”

You can feel your orgasm approaching fast, the combination of Joel’s cock and possessiveness hitting all the right spots in your cunt and mind. 

“Fuck, baby, your pussy’s choking the fuck outta me,” he chuckles, burying his face in the crook of your neck, sucking and biting at the delicate skin. You cry out from the overwhelming mix of sensations and Joel answers you by putting his hand around your neck, expertly shutting you up without cutting off your air supply. 

“Stop being a brat if you can’t take the consequences, baby,” Joel murmurs, his face hovering above yours, an amused smile playing on his lips.

You glare at him, but he quickly disarms you by leaning down and kissing you passionately. You wrap your legs around his waist and dig your nails into his back. Your skin is on fire and you have zero control left over your body.

It’s all his.

He puts your left leg over his shoulder again, splitting you open even more. The volume of your desperate moans increases as Joel keeps fucking your pussy with abandon.

“Fuck, that the spot baby?” he pants.

“Yeah,” you whimper, “please don’t stop.”

“Look at me.” He grabs the side of your neck and rubs your cheek with his thumb. “Tell me your mine.” He looks at you with wild eyes, sweat glistening on his skin. 

“Yes, Joel, fuck I- I’m yours. Fuck, keep going,” you whine, the tension in your core so close to snapping.

“I got you, baby. Let go for me, I wanna feel you,” Joel encourages you, chasing his own high deep inside you. 

“Oooh, Joel, I’m gonna come,” you sob as your walls spasm and contract around his cock, shockwaves of pleasure gripping your whole body and blurring your vision. You’re convulsing in ecstasy, not knowing where your body ends and Joel’s begins.

In this moment right now, you’re one.  

“F-Fuck!” Joel comes so hard his final thrust pushes your body up the bed. He spills himself deep inside you, your pulsing pussy milking every last drop of his cum. He collapses onto you with a strangled groan, panting heavily. 

“Fuck, darlin’, you tryna kill me or something?”

You giggle and start drawing shapes on his back with your fingers. Joel kisses your neck and hums contentedly, making sure his cock stays buried inside of you for as long as possible.

---

“Are you gonna be good from now on, hm?” He nudges your cheek with his nose. You turn to face him and look into his eyes. 

“No, sir.” 

He chuckles and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Good girl.”

You press a soft kiss on his lips before turning around and getting up. You put your dress and heels back on and walk over to the bathroom. 

“You don’t need to leave, you know,” you hear him say from behind you. You sigh and flick the light on. 

“I can’t stay, Joel.” You look into the bathroom mirror and quickly comb through your hair with your fingers. Your makeup is smudged, but it’s dark out so you don’t care. 

“We could order from that Indian place you like and watch Heat again. Besides, it’s getting late,” he murmurs, looking at you with his big puppy eyes. 

You smile at him, but don’t answer. He nods slowly and gets up from the bed to lead you to the front door. 

“Okay, sweetheart. But text me when you get home, alright?” 

“I will.” 

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

“See you around, darlin’.”

---

next part || series masterlist ||Joel masterlist

[tpwk-formula1]

Kinktober Day 8 - Face Sitting - GR63

George Russel X Plus Size! Reader

TW - Mentions of insecurity, face sitting, hand job

WC 1300+

Y/N POV

"Babe, I wanna try something," I hear George call out walking into our shared bedroom where I was currently editing some photos for his Instagram.

I close my laptop before turning my full attention to my boyfriend of three years to see him crawling on the bed toward me where he sits down so we're face to face.

"What is it?" I ask softly when I see the hint of mischief in his eyes making me slightly nervous.

"Okay, just hear me out... Sit on my face," George says making me choke on my spit in shock.

"Wha- why?" I nervously start asking. The second I heard the idea I got nervous and started thinking of all the worst possibilities.

"I've been wanting to do it with you for a while but every time I pull you on my lap to ride me you tense up and don't look comfortable but I really do want to do this," George explains softly.

"George, I get nervous riding you, how do you think I'm gonna climb on your face?" I question him with a bewildered expression.

"Baby, we've been together for years. We've had plenty of sex, and you ride me like you were made for my cock, I will never understand why you still get nervous to do it," George tells me softly.

"Georgie, you know exactly why," I softly remind him which only makes him roll his eyes at me. It wasn't done in a mean way just to show his annoyance at the situation. It was something he had never once cared about and he was the reason I was finally able to be comfortable in my own skin and enjoy sex for the first time in my life however the insecurities are still there.

"Have I done something or not done something to make you not fully comfortable with me," George asks softly.

"No, it's just scary. You're the reason I can even enjoy sex because you put in the time to make sure I knew I was beautiful and that you had no issue with the rolls I carried around," I tell him softly which makes him smile.

"Okay, how about this. We don't have to do it today but can it be something we try in the future?" George reasons with me which makes me smile. While I knew George came in here to get me to sit on his face right away he knew we both would only enjoy it if I was fully comfortable.

"Yeah, I would like that," I tell him softly which makes him smile at me.

"Good," George says smiling up at me. I lean forward to capture his lips in mine.

A couple weeks have passed since our conversation about me riding George's face and while he had never once asked again it was all I could think about. While the idea of it still made me nervous I couldn't lie and say it didn't turn me on.

"Georgie, where are you?" I ask walking through our apartment and trying to locate my boyfriend.

"In here, love," George calls out from our room. When I find him I can see that he's trying to read the data from the last race.

"Are you busy?" I ask softly clearly showing how nervous I am.

"Never for you. What's wrong?" George asks while I start approaching him. I instantly climb into his lap trying to gain as much confidence as possible.

"I wanna try it," I tell him which only makes him look at me slightly confused.

"What?" George finally questions when he can't figure it out himself.

"Uh- um, the thing you wanted to try a few weeks ago," I reply back softly embarrassed that I was too nervous to say what it was. "Only if you still want to," I quickly added.

"You wanna sit on my face," George asks with a cocky smirk written all over his face instantly turning me on.

"Please," I ask softly. I feel George take my face in his hand and pull me down for a kiss.

What started as an innocent kiss quickly turned into a heavy make-out session, that ended with both of us stripped down and George laying down in the middle of the bed. I can see how hard he already his which makes me clinch my thighs together to try and get some friction.

"Come here, we'll start slow," George calls me over which has me climbing into the bed towards his face.

"Which direction do you wanna face, love?" George asks me making me think slightly before I tell him pointing towards the foot of the bed "I wanna face that way." I knew I wanted to be able to play with George's cock and I wasn't gonna wait until after he was done eating.

I hesitated a few seconds longer before I finally got the courage to climb on top. With my knees on either side of George's face and my pussy hovering at least a foot above his head I feel George's arms wrap around my thighs slowly guiding me down.

When I get close enough for George to finally reach up and take a taste for himself I gasp before trying to pull myself back up and away from his mouth, but with George being stronger it just had him pulling me down even more so he no longer had to strain his neck to reach.

George instantly gets into action licking from my hole to my throbbing clit making sure to pay extra attention to it.

"Oh, Georgie so good," I moan out slightly starting to grind on his face. I was still not putting my entire weight on George and he could tell but he wasn't going to push me to do something I wasn't comfortable with.

Once I get used to the new sensations I lean down slightly to find just how hard George is. When I finally reach for George's cock I can feel him hiss into my pussy making me gasp at the vibrations of it.

When I try to slide down just slightly to be able to pull George into my mouth he takes me by my hips and pulls me back too him.

"Stop, I want you ON my face," George says making sure to emphasize the word "on." I relax back just enough so I can still reach George with my mouth.

I guess my angle was still not good enough cause he finally grabs my hips again and dragging me back to make sure my pussy was seated directly over his mouth. Once George is satisfied I realized I was just going to have to pump his dick with my hand.

"So good," I gasp to George which just spurs his actions on making him double down and speed him.

I can tell that George was starting to get close already which makes him speedy up slightly wanting to watch him cum.

"Fuck," I hear George moan into my pussy sending a new wave of pleasure up my spine bringing me to the edge.

"I'm gonna cum," I moan right before falling over the edge and start cumming all over his face.

As I'm coming down from my orgasm George starts cumming all over my hand with a loud moan sending me into another little orgasm from his mouth.

Once I've fully cum down from my orgasm I slowly climb off of George and look at him to see him in a blissed out.

"You okay?" I ask softly worried I might have sat on him a little too hard.

"Better than okay," he says with a smile while I walk to the bathroom While I'm washing my hands George comes into the bathroom to pull me into his chest allowing us to make eye contact through the mirror.

"Thank you," George tells me with a smile.

"I enjoyed it," I reply with a smile making George laugh a little and tell me he knew I would. Which has me gasping in mock surprise and flinging some of the water on my hands at George.

[keirareidss]

Saturday -> Day Seven

you relish in your last day before you have to go home

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: adorable fluff, smitten spencer wc: 1.3k

"I can't believe we're leaving. I don't wanna go." You whined.

"I know. I'm gonna miss this." JJ said. You were all sat at the dining table, having one last vacation breakfast together.

"We could make it an annual thing." Emily said.

"Oh, you'd all like that wouldn't you? Using my Lake House every year?" Rossi said sarcastically. Emily grinned.

"What are we doing for our last day?" Derek asked Penelope.

"I don't have anything on the schedule. I thought I'd leave it up to you guys." You all exchange glances.

"Well what should we do?" You asked.

You all decided to spend the day lounging around the lake house. You and Spencer, still in your matching plaid pajamas, moved to the couch to read. You sat against opposite arm rests, both of your legs up on the cushions. You were reading separate books, Spencer much faster than you, and Spencer's hand grasped your ankle, thumb caressing it softly through your sock.

You all had a very peaceful morning, relaxing for one last time before you had to go back to work on Monday.

Eventually, you decided to head down to the lake and take a few canoes out. You and JJ got in one, Derek and Emily in another, Spencer and Penelope each in their own, and Hotch and Rossi had decided to stay up at the lake house.

"Spencer! Say cheese!" You held up his camera that you had snatched from your room, aiming it at him as he looked up, sending you a big grin. You snapped a picture before putting the camera safely in your bag. You all paddled through the route around a small island, Emily and Derek tipping their canoe over at least three times and then arguing over whose fault it was while splashing each other. You and JJ chatted casually, mostly about Henry and Will, while Penelope and Spencer raced through the water.

You made it back to the lake house in a little over an hour, Emily and Derek soaking wet and shoving each other playfully.

"Did you have fun kids?" Rossi jokes when you all come back inside.

"So much fun, thanks mom." JJ teases back.

~~♡~~

You tossed another bikini into your suitcase with a sigh.

"Can you try to not took so upset?" Spencer chuckled.

"But I am upset." You pushed out your bottom lip, making Spencer smile. He swiftly dipped down, kissing your pouty lips.

"Aw, it'll be okay." He cooed. You couldn't help the smile that grew on your face.

"Don't patronize me." You smacked his chest and he laughed. You continued packing, haphazardly throwing all of your stuff into your suitcase, a contrast to how you packed before the trip.

"I'm not. Aren't you excited to sleep in your own bed?"

"I guess." You shrugged, tossing a shirt into your suitcase, your shoulders deflating. Spencer steps behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, swaying you back and forth softly.

"Don't be upset. We'll get another vacation soon enough." He kissed your cheek.

"I know. Plus when we get home, we can have sex in our own sheets again." You said and Spencer blushed, burying his face him your neck. Once you were packed, you lugged your bags out to your car, tossing them in the trunk.

"Should we all grab lunch before we head home?" You asked, leaning against your car, looking at the others. Everyone chorused their agreements and you all got into your cars, driving into town. You stopped at a cute little diner and you all headed inside, getting lunch.

"Are we all excited to get back to work?" JJ asked rhetorically. You all groaned.

"Don't remind me." You grumbled and Spencer chuckled again, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

"I can't wait to see Sergio again." Emily smiles wistfully.

"I can't wait to see Jack again." Hotch said.

"Oh, how is he? You've been calling him, right?" You asked.

"Yeah, he's doing good. He's having fun with aunt Jess." Aaron's smile grew just talking about his son. You finished lunch and finally parted ways. You and Spencer drove in a peaceful silence for a few minutes, already mourning your vacation.

"What do you want for dinner?" Spencer broke the silence warily, not knowing if you were genuinely upset.

"I dunno." You hummed. "I don't feel like cooking. Do you want to just get takeout?" You asked, tearing your gaze from the trees speeding by your window.

"Sure. If that's what you want." He said, reaching over the console to grab your hand, holding it in his larger, warmer one. You smiled at him. He always put your needs before his. If you disagreed on what to get for dinner, he'd concede and let you get what you wanted. If you were too cold at night and he was sweating, he'd get up and turn the thermostat up for you, even letting you cuddle into him. You always got to pick the movie because he didn't care about what the two of you were watching, so long as he could see that smile on your face when you got your way.

He would do anything to see that smile. Tonight, even if he was craving pizza and you wanted burgers, burgers is what you would get.

"I think I might take a nap, is that okay?" You asked, curling into your seat, your head turned against the headrest to look at him.

"Of course. I'll wake you up around dinner time." You nod, reclining your seat slightly and curling up further, closing your eyes and drifting off. Spencer was fine with the silence. He didn't play music lest it wake you up, and he had much to think about. But he did find himself constantly looking away from the road and over at the sleeping girl next to him.

Of course he wanted you to get good sleep but he also couldn't wait for you to wake up so he could see that pretty smile again. He started trying to think of jokes of little things he could say to make you smile when you awoke. Maybe he'd tell you how Hotch told him about Jack's art project, you always seemed to brighten up when the little Hotchner was mentioned. Maybe he'd tell you how pretty you looked, even after a nap. Then he'd get a little blush with his smile.

When you finally did wake up, the sun was setting and it was getting dark and your stomach was grumbling. Spencer had decided to go with his compliment idea, and his heart swelled when he earned one of your grins. You didn't blush, maybe you were too tired to register the full compliment, but he'd try again later.

You decided to stop for burgers, your idea, and Spencer parked the car in the parking lot for you to eat. Later, when you'd get home and trudge up to your shared bedroom, promising to unpack your suitcase later, curling up in your bed and whining for Spencer to lay down next to you, he would, abandoning his own unpacking to hold you in his arms. He'd try one more time, telling you how much he loved you as you dozed, seeing that pretty smile one more time before you fell asleep, and now he knew he could rest easy, with his heart warm, his brain fuzzy with love, and his arms wrapped around the girl of his dreams.

Taglist: @totallynotabuckybarnessimp, @perfectgoopfishuniversity-blog, @cynbx, @lortheswiftie

[loveesiren]

Champagne & Sunshine (Pt. 3)

JJ Maybank x Reader

Synopsis: Y/n shares her past with JJ for the first time while taking care of Marley brings them closer than ever.

*The events with Bandit are based on a true story from my life. RIP Brian <3

Warnings: Smut, language, spider bite, trauma/stabbing

Word Count: 3k+

You groan as you heard the knocking on your door. "What?" You ask.

Marley comes in, the smell of marijuana instantly filling your room. "You need to get up." She says, plopping down on your bed next to you and passing you the joint.

You peak up at her from under your covers, reaching your hand out to take the joint but barely revealing yourself.

"You need to call JJ. He won't stop texting me."

"I texted him last night." You groaned, taking a drag off the joint.

"You can't stay locked up in here forever. It's been three days."

"Three days isn't forever, Mars."

"It is for JJ! He's so worried about you."

You huff and hand the joint back to her, pulling the covers back over your head.

"Nope! Get up!" Marley yells, yanking the blankets back.

"Ouch, Marley!" You screamed, bringing your hand up to your hair. "You almost ripped my extensions out!"

She threw your comforter to the floor so you couldn't try to pull it back over you. "You're getting up and we're going to the Chateau."

"I'm not going," You state, shielding your eyes with your arm.

"Fine, I'll tell JJ to come here then."

"Marley stop!" You hiss.

"No! I'm not going to let you push him away!"

"He's gonna ask questions." You groan.

"No he won't. He won't even bring it up. He just wants to see you."

You were overwhelmed. You saw Bandit in your dream and he told you being with JJ was okay but you still weren't ready to have this conversation with him. Or even be with JJ? Thoughts flooded your head and you really had no idea what to think. So you decided that avoiding everyone was the best solution while you worked out what to do.

But you missed JJ. You missed all your friends. But specifically JJ. The way you felt at home in his arms. Maybe that's why you were avoiding him. You didn't want to lose him like you did Bandit.

You sighed. "Fine. We'll go." You finally said. You pulled yourself out of bed and made your way to your closet. You were not up for getting ready so you threw your hair into a claw clip and pulled on a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt.

"Really?" Marley asked as she judged your outfit.

"Do you want me to go or not?" You scoffed, throwing your arms out to the side.

Marley rolled her eyes and headed out of your room. "I'm driving!" She called over her shoulder.

-

Marley parked the Wagon in front of the Chateau. You leaned your head against the glass and stared, knowing all you friends were in there waiting to hear from you.

"Come on, Y/n..." Marley groaned as she fell out of the drivers seat and made her way to your side. She flung the door open and grabbed your wrist. "Let's go."

You linked arms with her and walked towards John B's front door.

"I've awoken King Kylie!" Marley yelled as she thrusted you through the front door.

"Y/n!" JJ was on his feet in an instant, running to you and wrapping you up in his strong arms.

"Hey J!" You said. You couldn't help but wrap your legs around his waist as he lifted you off the ground. You buried your face in his neck and inhaled. You missed his scent. You missed him.

"Barbie, I missed you...Can we talk?" He asked softly, letting you down to the floor. You nodded and JJ immediately grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the front door before you got a chance to greet anyone else.

You shot a glance at Marley to make sure she was okay. She was cracking open a beer with Sarah and Kiara so you decided she was fine for a bit.

JJ dragged you all the way down the dock and helped you into the boat.

"J, I can't leave Mars..."

"We're not going anywhere. I just want to sit. She'll be okay, she's with Sarah." JJ responded.

You hesitated but took JJ's hand and stepped into the boat. You sat down and pulled your knees to your chest as JJ sat in front of you.

"How're you feeling?" He asked. His eyes were full of concern. You could tell he missed you with the way his fingers trailed over your manicured toes, wanting desperately to be close to you but not wanting to push you away.

"Uhm, I'm okay. I just needed a few days." You smile at him. "I'm sorry I've been distant."

"Don't be sorry," He smiles up at you. "I understand. I'm just glad you're okay."

You smiled and looked off at the the water around you.

JJ's POV

The way her tan skin glistened under the late sun. I could die. She's so fucking pretty.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked her nervously.

Y/n sighed, resting her head against her arm.

"You don't hav-"

"We were at a party. Bandit didn't even want to go but I convinced him because it was one of my best friends throwing the party. We were supposed to go back to school on Monday so it was one last winter break rager."

I sat quietly, listening to her shaky words.

"We were having fun. Playing beer pong, laughing, just having a great time. Then this kid Derek started harassing me and all the other girls..."

I swallowed harshly, focusing on massaging her feet.

"Bandit and his friends stepped in and Derek went berzerk. He took a knife from the kitchen and just started stabbing..."

"Y/n, I-"

"I just loved him so much, J...We were supposed to be forever. But that's not what God had planned..."

I sat silently, nodding my head.

"But everything happens for a reason. And now I'm here. With you. And JJ..."

I looked up at her, melting when her eyes met mine.

"You make me really fucking happy."

I couldn't help myself. I leaned up, taking her chin between my thumb and forefinger and pulling her lips to mine once again. The electricity I felt whenever her lips met mine...

She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me closer to her. She was everything I had ever dreamed of. If she gave me the chance, I'd make Bandit proud.

"JJ..." She whispered, pulling away.

"We can take it slow." I told her.

"It's not that, J. I'm just-I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"...Losing you."

I pressed my forehead to hers and ran my hands over her arms. "Life is scary." I sighed. "But we still have to live it. And living it with you...That's a dream come true. We can live or die. Those are the choices. So let's live while we can."

Y/n's POV

You smiled at JJ's words. He was right. You needed to live. Enjoy the moment while it was here. You dove forward, pressing your lips to his and tackling him to the floor of the boat. His hands found your hips, digging into you hungrily. You snaked your hands into his shaggy hair and moaned into the kiss.

"Y/n!" John B and Sarah screamed, running down the dock.

You groaned. You could never just enjoy kissing JJ. "I'm going to fucking kill them." You whispered and JJ chuckled.

"Y/n! Y/n!!!"

"Fucking what?!" You asked as you stood up.

"Mars was bit by a black widow!" Sarah said breathlessly.

"What?!" You were quick to jump out of the Pogue and make your way up the dock. JJ, John B, and Sarah trailing behind you.

You saw Marley on the ground, Kiara holding her head as she gasped for air, eyelids swelling shut. "Marley!" You cried and fell to your knees beside her.

"We called 911!" Kiara told you. "She was bit right here!" She points to the fang wounds on Marley's thigh.

"We were just sitting out here and it crawled on her and bit her before she even noticed it!" Pope said, pacing back and forth.

"Mars! Marley!" You yelled, lifting her off the ground. She was barely able to stand, tremors raking her body. "Marley, please!" You were crying now.

You heard the sirens approaching the Chateau. JJ was quick to grab Marley from you, scooping her into his arms and running towards the ambulance. You followed him, trying to control your breathing.

The ambulance parked and two paramedics hopped out. "Spider bite?"

"Black widow." JJ told them. "Please fucking help her!"

One of the paramedics took Marley from JJ and loaded her into the back of the truck. You and JJ climbed in behind her. Soon enough, the ambulance was pulling away, sirens blasting.

You looked out the back window at the Pogues. You could see Sarah and Kie crying. John B and Pope running their fingers through their hair as they stressed out about the situation.

You held Marley's hand, crying against her skin while the paramedic helped her. You could hear JJ on the phone next to you, you assumed he called your parents by the way he was frantically explaining what happened and that you were on your way to the hospital.

You couldn't stay focused on anything but Marley, crying and praying that she'd be okay.

-

The doctor finally came out to where you sat with JJ and your parents, desperately waiting for answers.

"How is she?" You dad asked, standing to meet the doctor. You remained in JJ's arms as you looked up at him.

"She's stable. She will be fine."

You let out a breath you hadn't known you'd been holding in.

"We had to give her a strong dose of anti-venom so we will need to keep her here for a day or two to make sure her body takes it well." The doctor says. "In the mean time, feel free to see her. She is asleep right now but she should be just fine."

"Thanks, doc." Your dad says, patting him on the shoulder. The doctor smiles and retreats to tend to other patients.

You enter Marley's room and smile. Relief washing over you as you watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, knowing she would be okay. Your parents run to her side and hold either of her hands. They hadn't gotten to see her since they arrived. Once the ambulance pulled into the hospital she was immediately taken from you and you and JJ were told to stay in the waiting room. Your parents had found you curled up in JJ's lap, crying into the crook of his neck as he soothed you.

"Thank you guys for getting her here." Your dad said.

"Yeah, of course." JJ smiled. "Anything for Mars."

You smiled. JJ really was the sweetest guy you'd ever met. The way he cared for you and your little sister. The way your parents loved him. You were scared. Anyone would be after what you went through. But JJ was right. It was either live or die. And after what happened to Marley, what happened to Bandit, you decided you were going to live, and you were going to do it with JJ by your side.

You yawned, leaning into JJ's side. He smiled and wrapped an arm around your waist, running his thumb gently over your exposed skin.

"Why don't you two go home and get some rest? Your father and I will stay with Mars tonight." Your mom offered.

"Are you sure? I don't mind staying. I just want to make sure-"

"Y/n." Your dad cut you off. "You've had a stressful day. You need to get some sleep. You can come back and see Marley in the morning, yeah?"

You nodded hesitantly. "Okay. But call me if she wakes up."

"We will."

You and JJ walked out of the hospital. It was later than you had thought. The sky was dark and the air was warm.

"Do you wanna go get your car?" JJ asked.

"Nah," You responded. "My place is closer than John B's. I'll get it tomorrow. Kind of in the mood to walk. If you're down with that?"

JJ smiles. "Fine with me, Barbie."

You chuckled and pulled out your phone, pressing play on your summer vibes playlist. Of course, Champagne & Sunshine was the first song to come on and that sealed the deal. This had been yours and JJ's song since the first time you played it for him on the beach.

"The waves are fucking crazy today," You said as you sat down on your towel and worked on setting up your bluetooth speaker.

"Fucking gnarly!" JJ laughed, grabbing two beers from the cooler and handing you one. "I'm exhausted."

You cracked open your beer and pressed play on your phone. You bobbed your head with the music before turning to meet JJ's gaze on you. "What?" You asked, cocking your head to the side.

"I like this song." He told you.

"Yeah? Me too. Makes me feel so fucking happy!" You say, leaning your head back for the sun to kiss your skin.

"Dance with me?" JJ asked, standing up and offering his hand.

"You dance? J, you can barely walk." You chuckled.

"Just trust me!" He says, yanking you to your feet. You giggled as he twirled you around and dipped you. You missed the way his eyes fell to your throat as you leaned your head back in laughter.

As soon as the beat dropped you found yourself grinding against JJ, his hands found your waist and pulled you flush against him, burying his face in your sea soaked hair. You didn't mind, you couldn't help the smile that broke across your face having him so close to you.

The song took you back to that night and you weren't surprised when JJ took your hand and danced with you again as you made your way down the street. Somehow, he was able to dance just fine without falling on his face and you couldn't help but smile as you moved around each other. Being with him was electric and vibrant and there was never a moment you hated.

When you got home, you fell back on your bed with an audible sigh. JJ chuckled and flopped down beside you. "Tired, Kyles?"

You looked over him with a smile. "I really don't look that much like Kylie Jenner."

"Oh you most definitely do. You and Marley both are the long lost Kardashian/Jenner sisters."

You giggle at his words. You never purposely tried to look like a Kardashian, but you accepted the compliment happily. You lock eyes with JJ and your smile falters slightly as you catch the look in his eye. It was one of desire, hunger. It ignited a fire in the pit of your stomach and before you knew it, you were straddling him, pressing your lips to his as he laced his fingers through your long locks.

You were alone with JJ finally. No parents. No sister. No John B to interrupt like he does every single time. Granted, you didn't blame him for looking out for your sister's safety, but still, not having his voice ruin the moment was nice.

JJ rolled you on your back, hovering over you as he placed wet kisses down your jaw and neck. You moaned at the sensation. You wanted him. Needed him. You'd waited long enough.

You fiddle with the hem of his t-shirt, helping to pull it up over his head. He tosses it to the floor, helping you out of yours before he presses his body back against your bare breasts.

"Are you sure bout this?" He mumbles against your skin as he kissed his way down to your tits.

"Absolutely," You huff, needing to feel him.

He takes your nipple between his teeth and sucks hard, pinching and twirling your other one and you could feel yourself growing wet under his touch. "Fuck, J! I need you..."

You use all your strength to push him back, falling to the ground on top of him as you bit into his neck. "Fuck, Princess!" He groans, hands finding your hips and digging into your skin. You were feral. It had been a while since you had sex and you absolutely needed it from JJ.

You stood up and rid yourself of your shorts, JJ doing the same beneath you. When you were both fully naked you threw yourself back at him, kissing him like it was the last time you'd ever get to.

He was hard as a rock and you were already dripping. You wasted no time sitting back and sinking down onto him. His hands on your hips to help guide you and he moaned loudly at the feeling of you.

You took a moment to adjust to his size before placing your hands on his chest and arching your back. You slowly began to move, spelling out your name with your grinding hips.

"Fuck, Y/n..." He moaned, squeezing his eyes shut and enjoying your movements. "You're fucking immaculate."

You leaned over, panting against his neck as you continued to ride him. JJ grunted in frustration, quickly pulling you off him and moving you so that your stomach was pressed against the floor. He pulled your hips up and pushed himself into you once again. "No, no, no, Princess. I'm making you cum first." He whispered in your ear before pulling out and thrusting into you again.

You cried out at the way his cock hit you at this new angle. "Oh fuck, J!" You screamed, clawing at the floor boards as you tried to contain yourself. He brought his fingers around to rub your soaking clit and kicked your legs open wider. He thrusted into you faster and you could feel yourself on the edge of Heaven.

"Cum for me, Barbie..." He groaned.

You did as you were told, eyes rolling back in your head as you clenched around him. The way your pussy was pulsing sent him over the edge and he spilled into you.

He stayed inside of you as you both panted, trying to catch your breath.

"Holy-"

"Fuck."

JJ pulled out of you, his seed dripping between your legs. You rolled on your back and he smiled down at your exhausted state. You returned the smile, admiring how gorgeous he looked with beads of sweat clinging to his skin.

"A-are you on birth control?" He asks you.

"Nope." You chuckle. "But I have Plan B. And I'll get on birth control."

JJ smiles at you. "Does that mean...we can do this again?"

"How about right now?" You giggle as you stand up and run to your bathroom to start the shower.

JJ threw his head back and smiled. "Thank you," He said to whatever God was listening before running in the bathroom to join you.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! :)

[andreafmn]

Requite | Chapter 5

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: When everything seems to fall into place in Forks, Washington, a string of mysterious deaths call the attention of both vampires and werewolves in town. As the redheaded vampire returns with her mind set on revenge, (Y/N) and Bella Swan find themselves in the center of danger once again. With secrets still lingering between them about their past best friend, they will find themselves stuck in a whirlwind of love, betrayal, and the hardest choices they’ll have to make. But one thing is certain: no one will go a day without a taste for vengeance. 

<- Previous

“I transferred some money into your account,” Charlie said as he fussed over his daughter's jacket. “I also put some cash in your purse in case you guys get too hungry.”  

“Dad, I’m not five,” (Y/N) chuckled. “And we're just gonna go out to find a dress. We'll be back in time for the party.” 

“Well, I know. I just want to make sure you girls have everything you need,” he said. “And I want to make sure you're feeling okay about the talk you're gonna have with your sister.”  

Right. The talk. The week had come and gone faster than (Y/N) could have anticipated, and somehow the weekend had arrived. (Y/N) was ready to tell Bella everything, but she wasn’t quite ready for the aftermath. She wasn’t ready for pity, sadness, or concern. Hell, she didn't even want anger. All she wanted was to be done with the situation. “I think I'm good,” she smiled, trying her best to calm her father's worries. “After talking to you and Billy, I'm ready.”  

“Well, I'm glad, sweetheart,” Charlie sighed, hugging his daughter tightly.  

“You ready to go, (Y/N)?” Bella asked as she sauntered down the last stairs. “We got a bit of a drive.”  

“Yeah, just done.”  

“Alright,” she said. “We'll call when we're done, dad.” 

“Be safe, girls,” he said before placing a kiss on the top of both their heads. "And grab some breakfast, alright? Make sure you eat.”  

“Yes, dad,” Bella chuckled. “We'll see you later.”  

“Alright, see you soon,” he said as they walked toward the door. “Love you, girls.”  

“Love you, too,” they yelled back.  

The dynamic between the three Swans had shifted for the better. For the first time in a long time, they were vocal about their appreciation for each other. They had become a unit and less of three ships navigating the same sea. Finally, they were sailing together. Even if it was only for a short amount of time, they were a unit.  

“I'm thinking we could grab a bite at Granny's Diner,” Bella said halfway into the drive. They had been sitting in comfortable silence. Biding their time to see who would speak first. “They have some outside dining, and it might be the best place to talk. Unless, you know, you wanna do it now.” 

“I'll wait for the restaurant,” (Y/N) answered. “Don't really feel like talking about life before I've gotten some food in my stomach.”  

“It won't change the story,” her sister shrugged. “We could save ourselves an hour of coffee sipping.”  

Truthfully, (Y/N) wanted to wait until they were in a public space to avoid Bella turning the car around and killing Jacob herself. She could sense her sister was itching for the truth, unravelling under the weight of all the theories her mind was coming up with, and none of it would ever compare to reality. The moment she found out, there was no telling how she would react. “I just need the time to compose myself,” she said. “Can I?”   

“Yeah,” her sister smiled, reaching over to take her hand in his. “I just don’t want any more secrets between us, (Y/N). I want the rest of this year to be better. For you. For me. For us.”  

“I want that, too, Bella,” she replied. “We deserve calm for a while.”  

Quiet and calm were, of course, a mirage in Forks. It never lasted long, and it normally meant something big was lurking around the corner. But for a few more hours, even a few more days, they could pretend or believe it could be their future. A world where they were simply two girls, one on her way to college and the other buying her first prom dress.  

Thirty more minutes of background music, and the odd nod-off from (Y/N), and Bella was parking across the little diner. There was only one table outside, as though the very universe had conspired to make everything just right. Truth was making its way into the light, and after that day, nothing would ever be the same.  

The sisters took a seat and ordered promptly, nursing two mugs neither girl seemed too interested in. Procrastination ran in Swan veins, and they were experts at beating around the bush instead of getting to the point. But that morning, Bella would not tolerate it.  

“Okay then,” she said, finally taking a small sip of her tea, “what did Jacob really do?”  

(Y/N) sighed deeply, spinning the spoon inside her coffee with too much milk as she braced herself to tell the story. Hopefully, for the last time. “Where do you want me to start?” the girl asked. “From the very beginning, or what Edward and Paul were talking about?” 

“From the start,” Bella responded. “I need to know everything he's done to you, (Y/N).” 

And, once more, the younger Swan detailed the horrendous couple of months she spent alongside Jacob Black. She started with the good things. Because there were some, even if she could count them in one hand. There had been the crush she had harbored since she was a kid—the fluttering in her chest when she heard his name, the heat that rushed through her body when she was able to be near him, the happiness the idea of being with him brought her. There was the moment she saw him when she came back to Forks—the moment everything had rushed back, the joy and excitement of being in his arms for even a second. And there was their first kiss. Everything was so small in retrospect, but they were moments that had meant the world to her in the past. They were part of her history. She could never deny that.  

Still, there was an evil that undermined any of the sweet words, the warm kisses, and the fulfillment of a lifelong wish. And it didn't take long for that dark side to take over. (Y/N) told her sister about the sly and insulting comments he would throw her way, and how good he was at making her feel like she deserved to hear them. Told her about his misconstrued concern for Bella, how he could derail every single one of their conversations with her. She spoke of his belittlement, of his gaslighting, and his unachievable ultimatum.  

During all of this, Bella remained quiet, her grip on her mug getting tighter the more her sister talked. She wanted to give (Y/N) the space and time to let everything out, scared that if she spoke up, her sister would close up and hide the rest. As hard as it was, she had to bite her tongue to get the truth. The whole truth.  

“After I couldn't get Embry out of the pack, he stopped calling and coming over,” (Y/N) continued. “That's when you and he started hanging out again. Well, you already know that part. When we went to his house, and everything went down, he wanted us to get back together, but I wasn't sure I wanted that—not anymore. Still, he kissed me, and I didn't know how to say no.”  

Bella's jaw clenched, but instead of talking, she nodded to her sister to keep going. “He was different then, but so was I,” she sighed. “I didn't feel anything for him, and still, I tried to find what I felt for him in the past. But it was gone, and everyone was telling me to leave him.  “I tried many times, but something always happened that didn't let me,” she chuckled dryly. “Until the night after we almost drowned. I was telling him the truth, that I didn't feel the same about him, and I had to let him go. He didn't like that.”  

She told Bella how Jacob had only wanted to get close to (Y/N) just so he could get closer to her, how he only tried to fix things with her because Bella had wanted that. Then, he told her how Paul was still keeping things from her, that he was lying right to her face. “I couldn't handle it, and I took off running,” (Y/N) sniffled, feeling tears welling in her eyes as she remembered the moment. “I don't know how long I was running, I just knew I had to get as far away as I could from his house. My legs were burning, and I could barely breathe when I suddenly tripped over a raised root and fell.   “I was all alone in the forest. Until I wasn't,” she said. Her hands trembled around her cup, the liquid inside rippling as her nerves took over her body. “Victoria found me.”  

“What?!” Bella exclaimed, unable to contain her worry. It dripped from her words and splattered on her face, her hand reaching for her sister's instinctively. “Why didn't you tell me?”  

“I didn't know how without telling you the whole thing,” (Y/N) replied, her voice cracking as the tears started to fall. “She was close to killing me. She said she wanted to kill me to hurt you, that somehow my death would hurt you and make it better when she killed you.   “I was sure that was it. Victoria had her hands around my throat, even slicing into my skin.” She raised her head slowly, revealing the scar that still remained at the top of her neck. “I passed out before I could see anything else, but Paul found me. Sam and Embry joined him later, and they helped him run her out of town. I was asleep until after Harry's funeral.”  

“Oh, (Y/N).”  

“That's not the worst part, Bells,” she sighed, squeezing her hand to ground herself. “When I was ready to go home, Embry came around and told us something we didn't notice. While Victoria was attacking me, Jake was there.”  

“W-what are you saying, (Y/N)?” 

“While Jacob was on patrol with Embry, he let visions slip from the night before,” she recounted, her chin trembling with every word. “He was running to the woods after he left you at home. He was angry, Embry said. That's when he happened upon Victoria attacking me. He could have stopped her. At least, scare her long enough for reinforcements to come. Instead, he stayed hidden, watching as she took my life. He'd said it was because he thought if I died, your grief would push you to find comfort in him.”  

The older girl remained silent, anger building inside her like a volcano about to erupt. She could see why (Y/N) had decided to talk in a public space rather than in the car. Her veins itched with the need to get back in the car and yell at Jake until her voice was hoarse, hit him until her hands shattered into a million pieces. She wanted him to hurt for all the pain he had put her sister through.  

"I wanted to tell you right after it happened, but Alice was there,” the girl sobbed. “You had something more important to get to, and I couldn't stop you. After that, I couldn't find the courage to tell you the truth. I spent days stewing in what I allowed to be done to me, and I felt like an idiot. Something inside me kept telling me that telling the truth would make me look stupid, so I just kept quiet.  “And then I found out how everyone had turned on Jake, and I couldn't help but feel responsible,” she continued. “I didn't want to ruin the last relationship he had by telling you the truth, too. So, I kept it to myself and hoped he didn't say anything.”  

“(Y/N), there is no one more important in my life than you,” Bella croaked, her throat feeling tighter as her sister continued to talk. “I'm sorry I couldn't see how much you were hurting. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm just sorry for not being the sister you deserve.”  

“No, Bells, you have nothing to be sorry for,” the girl said. “I made the decision not to tell you, okay? And I wasn't alone. I had Paul to help me, and dad and uncle Billy. You had your own problems to deal with. I mean, just with the whole vampire thing...”  

“(Y/N), you almost died, and I had no idea,” Bella said, tears falling from her eyes. “I could have lost you, and I didn't know. My friend left you for dead, and I didn't know. You came out all this way for me, you almost died, and still you were looking out for me.”   

“It's not like I really helped you,” (Y/N) chuckled softly. “I mostly complained to dad about you. If anything, it's Jacob that got you out of this rut.”  

“You're wrong,” Bella smiled. “It was you.”  

“Oh, come on.”  

“I'm serious,” she said. “Jacob and I mostly talked about you, (Y/N). You knew that going back to Florida would kill me, and instead of letting mom drag me back, you left your life behind and came here for me. I know I haven't said it, and I didn't quite show it when you first came here, but I was so relieved when dad said you were coming to Forks. You're the reason I pulled myself out, (Y/N). Not Jacob. Not Edward. You.”  

(Y/N) wanted to argue, but Bella stopped her before a word could leave her mouth. “I know you don't believe me, and you find it difficult to take a compliment,” she chuckled. “But even if you did complain at the start—which I don't really mind—you still showed me that I would be okay without Edward. There are other people out there who love me enough to drop everything and be there for me. You're why it stopped being hard to be here.”  

“You're giving me too much credit, Bells,” (Y/N) said, feeling her face grow warmer as the seconds passed. “But I'll take it, nonetheless. I'm glad you're better.”  

“And I'm glad you're alive,” she smiled. “And when we get back, I'm killing Jacob.”  

The younger girl choked on her coffee at her words, scaring the waitress who had just arrived with their plates. The poor woman left with a red face and a heart that was probably hammering against her chest. Laughter erupted between the Swan sisters, hoping the server didn't hear the last bit of their conversation.  

“You can't kill Jake, by the way,” (Y/N) whispered as they started on their food. “I told you everything so we could lay it all to rest. I don't want anyone to go after him to get revenge or whatever. I just want that nightmare to be over. He's had a reckoning of his own creation.”  

“What do you mean?”  

“Well, Sam's been giving him extra patrols,” she said. Part of her was debating telling Bella what had occurred the weekend before, knowing it would only make her sister's anger grow. But she had promised the whole truth, and Bella was the only person she didn't want to keep things from—not anymore. “He's been sleeping in his garage, too. Billy barely talks to him. And, well, Paul is always just one word away from killing him.”  

“How do you know he's sleeping in the garage?” 

“Uh, well, when I dropped off Paul last weekend, I went by Billy's to talk to him,” she explained, her eyes focusing on anything but Bella. “As I was leaving, Jake showed up and asked me to talk.”  

"(Y/N),” Bella reprimanded.  

“He was basically trying to convince me not to talk to you, and he got a bit forceful.” Before Bella could complain or react much, (Y/N) shut her down. What she wanted most was to show her sister that she could handle herself. That the girl she was now was stronger than the one who had arrived to help mend her sister's broken heart. “He just grabbed my wrists, but I freed myself. He was trying to make everything my fault again, but I shut it down. And I am 100% sure he won't even come near me ever again.”  

Bella kept quiet for a second, thoughts flashing across her eyes like a blazing fire. “You know, I could probably get Edward to kill him,” she whispered. “Get him out of the state, and poof.”  

“Bells!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “You can't joke about something like that. And you can't leave Paul out of it either.”  

Both sisters erupted into a chorus of laughter once more, pretending the plan was only a funny quip to pass the time. Maybe she was imagining it, but (Y/N) felt the air around them get lighter. Now that everything was on the table, the dark cloud that seemed to hang above them dispersed and only bright and sunny skies were forecasted ahead—as sunny as it could get. It had been years since either Swan had been hopeful for the future, but at that moment, anything they dreamed of was possible.  

But they forgot about the world they lived in.  

Once they were done with their food and had apologized to the waitress with a hefty tip, the girls started their walk toward the dress shop. “So,” Bella said, linking her arm with (Y/N)'s, "what color were you thinking for the dress?”  

“Well, Paul's favorite color is red,” she said, trying to keep her smile small. “I was thinking of something in that realm.”  

“That's a good start,” Bella laughed. “Are you gonna go short or long?”  

“Long, I think is best. It is his senior prom.”  

“I wouldn't know,” she sighed dramatically. “I didn't go to mine.”  

“Well, maybe you shouldn't have gone to Italy to rescue your vampire boyfriend,” (Y/N) teased. “Thankfully, mine is more into fistfights than dramatic spectacles.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Bella chuckled sarcastically. “He's my ex, by the way. Better get that clear.”  

“And is he gonna stay that way?”  

“Oh, look,” Bella exclaimed. “We're here!” 

The shop was smaller than other stores (Y/N) had been to, but compared to anything in Forks, it had quite the selection. As soon as they stepped inside, they were inundated with sequins and satin, beads and lace, and rows upon rows of fabric. It was slightly overwhelming, and they were completely underqualified for the task, but they had to start somewhere.  

Twenty minutes in, and (Y/N) was ready to throw in the towel. There were many red dresses—long, short, slim, puffy. It was more than she could ask for. But none of them called to her. Bella pulled dress after dress, sticking her arm into the overflowing racks and showing her sister options, but none seemed to be the one. They knew neither of them was particularly adept in the fashion department, but the girl at least knew what she liked, and nothing quite fit the bill.  

“You have to pick something, (Y/N),” Bella sighed, her arms growing sore from the gowns she had been holding. “At least, try them on. They might look different.” 

“They’re just not right,” she complained. “I want to look good.” 

“I know, but…” Bella’s words died in her mouth as her eyes fell on a figure across the street. They were unmistakable and stood out like a sore thumb. “What is Alice doing here?” 

(Y/N) swiftly turned around, her eyes falling on the vampire who sat on a bench on the other side of the store. She held a newspaper over half of her face in a failed attempt at concealing her identity, but she couldn’t hide everything else. From the clothes to the hair, to the big designer sunglasses that hung on her nose. It was Alice Cullen, and it could be no one else. “Is she following us?” the girl whispered. “Did she hear about our plans?”  

“I don’t know,” she answered as she put the dresses back on the rack. “But I intend to find out.”  

A/N: in my head, Bella at least lands a good punch on Jacob that doesn't break her hand. but finally she gets to know everything, hopefully nothing else happens. hahaha... right? 🫣 If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story:  click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

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[rekino2114]

Yello! Would you do a female gojo, Geto and shoko x weak male reader where the trio found out that the reader is bullied by some other sorcerers to do their work which almost cost him his life if it wasn't for the intervention of Female Geto. Thank you

Fem!gojo,fem!geto ans shoko finding out you're being bullied

You hear the last bell of the day ringing as you go outside the classroom, shoko is the first to follow you while geto goes to wake gojo up first, who was probably asleep during the entire lesson.

"*yawn* oh hi babe"

She goes to give you a kiss on the cheek and stand near you

"Were you seriously asleep the whole time?"

"What do you want me to do? I already know everything yaga was saying"

"*sighs* and that's why you always ask me to help you study?"

Gojo just ignores geto as she pulls out her phone and continues walking

"Wanna get Boba? The place near school has a new flavor I wanted to try"

"Sure, we don't have any missions today anyway"

Shoko simply nodded, and your three girlfriends started walking away from the school, but you didn't follow them

"W-wait, I need to do something?"

"Uhm? What?"

"O-oh just......seeing some friends"

Satori got closer to you. You could feel her six eyes staring hard at you even behind her shades

"Who? You're not cheating on us are you?"

"Of course not, I just need to give something back to nanami and haibara"

"You're hanging out with the first-years?"

"We do that all the time"

"Eh, true alright"

She gave you another kiss on the cheek and walked back towards shoko and geto giving you a wave

"I'll get you your favorite ok?"

"Thanks"

"Just don't be too late or I'll drink it"

"O-ok"

The three girls went fully outside the school, and you sighed before feeling a familiar hand on your shoulder

"Hey, y/n, how's it going?"

".........."

"Come on don't be like this, aren't we friends?"

"N-"

Before you could answer, you were shoved on the wall by another guy

"I don't want to hear you complain again, loser, got it?"

"Fuck you"

You were kicked in the face and started bleeding

"Look at you! You're so weak! How did you even manage to get with those girls?"

"Yeah, they're way above your league. way hotter and stronger than you"

"Awww thanks for the compliment"

The two sorcerers turned to see gojo in the flesh smiling at them. It wasn't her usual smile, though. You could see she was smiling at the thought of what was gonna happen next

"Although, I'd rather die than accept a compliment from you shitheads"

They tried to run, but satori pulled them near her with blue, holding them by their collars

"You said he's weak didn't you? I'll show you what weakness truly means"

She threw them at the wall, which almost cracked because of the impact and walked towards them,taking off her shades

"I'll show you just how weak you truly are"

She held her finger against the two bullies, and a red glow started to emanate from it

"Cursed technique reversal:re-"

"Come on, satori, if you kill them then we'll be in trouble"

The white-haired girl turned to see geto looking at her while shoko went towards you and started healing your injuries

"You always ruin the fun geto, I wasn't going to kill them, I was just training to use red"

"Still"

"You saw how they treated our boyfriend, and you still want to do nothing?"

"You misunderstood"

Geto started smiling too as a few curses appeared from the darkness behind her

"I just said not to kill them, not that they didn't need to be punished"

Shoko brought you to the courtyard so that you didn't see the very violent scene that was unfolding and she continued healing you

"You should be all right now"

"Thanks"

"You should have told us about this"

"I know but I just-"

"You didn't want us to think you were weak right?"

"............"

"Listen, I love you because of who you are, I really don't care how strong or weak you are, you're kind and sweet and an amazing boyfriend, and that's why I no, why we love you"

"......thanks"

Shoko smiled and leaned in to give you gentle peck on the lips

"Plus, it's a nice change of paste, from gojo and geto I mean, it's nice to hang out with someone who isn't as freakishly strong as them"

"Hehe"

After you stayed in silence for a while you saw your two other girlfriends approaching you, without any blood or injuries on them unsurprisingly

"Ah, that's just what I needed, I didn't train in a while, so that was refreshing"

"And we got to teach those idiots a lesson, no one messes with y/n and gets away with it"

"True"

They came closer and sat in a circle near you

"You look better now, and I don't mean just in a physical way, I love seeing you smile"

"Thanks, shoko cheered me up"

"That's nice, i think I can tell what she said, but just to be sure, please know that we will always love you, neither me nor satori care about your relative weakness"

"Yep! You may be weak, but you're nice and funny and not to mention super handsome~ I still don't know how those guys can tell you you're ugly, are they blind?"

You giggled a bit before looking into all your girlfriends' eyes, they were all full of love for you.

"Thank you, thank you so much"

"It's nothing"

Gojo and geto took turns kissing you and telling you how much they loved you as shoko joined in later

"So can we finally get Boba now? My poor stomach didn't have any sweets for hours"

"Yeah I think that's very needed after today"

"Yes"

You three got up and geto grabbed your hand (which might have made gojo jealous) as you started walking to the Boba shop while laughing together.

[boku-no-bunbun]

Can I request a story where baki and Jack have a little sister and woth them she's really nice and sweet but with there day she matches energy and is just as mean and bitchy as he is?

Yes I can 😌

I hope you like it ♥

Warning: strong language, name calling, yujiro hanma

Baki and Jack were at the arena and sparing on the sand floor as dust clouds pick up with every move. Sitting on the side watching was Tokugawa and Captain stratum also sitting with them was baki and Jack's little sister. She has always been interested in fighting, not really wanting to complete but she sure as he'll can beat up to 200 people if she wanted. Tokugawa even asked if she would be willing to participate in any championships but she politely declined saying she just really love to watch and support her big brothers.

"I'm curious though, you're brothers are encouraged to fight by your dad, what dose he think about you fighting?" There was a bit of a pause after Tokugawas question. Captain just looked away knowing exactly what's coming next. "I don't really care what that big bastard thinks, I'd beat his ass if I want to then we'll see what he thinks about me fighting." Y/n says as she crossed her arms. He dosent like her dad. He killed her mom before she was old enough to know what she looked like and though her childhood she was raised by her brothers and when her dad was involved he was always yelling and batching.

the young hanma always felt that you should treat people the way you want to be treated so she always gave him the same attitude back. They have there little moments of him giving advice to be stronger, then its back to insults.

After about 2 hours Baki and Jack were finished there match and the three hanma siblings were standing outside talking about what they would eat tonight when there hair started to stand up followed by a strong presence.

"So you three gonna just stand there, or are you gonna greet your faughter?" A rough voice was heard and Jack stays silent while baki turns around. "Hey dad" baki gives a lazy smile. Y/n on the other hand rols her eyes and looks up at the oger annoyed. "What do you want old man?" "What do I want... I wanna know what the hell I was watching earlier!!!"

Baki and Jack grow stiff and sigh "watching you two fight was like watching tots throw a tantrum, have you learned nothing!!! What a disgrace!" Jack just roles his eyes while baki tries to say something, but before he could get anything out yujiro turn to his daughter and start yelling at her. "And you! What the hell do you mean I'm a big bastard! You ungrateful ass! You could never beat me in a fight not even in your dreams! I demand an apology!"

Y/n sighs and relaxes and starts off "well dad I would apologize... If what I said wasn't true ass hole! You're always fussing about something! And if you're so worried about it fight me if you don't like what I said!" Baki sweat drops and tries to calm both his dad and sister down. "Hey how about we go have a nice family dinner or something?" "Shut the hell up, the last time we ate together you ate more fists than food!" Y/n gets more mad and her aura becomes more menacing "Don't yell at my fucking brother like that! He was trying to be nice" "oh look at you trying to be the savior around here, you couldn't beat anyone even if you tried! Maybe if you weren't so slutty you could spend more time training!" "Takes one to know one bitch, and maybe I wouldn't be a slit if my own father wasn't such a fat whore!"

Baki stands there watching not knowing what to do as his sister and dad go back and forth. Jack puts a hand on his brothers shoulder "you should know more than anyone baki, that you shouldn't get in between a fight that has nothing to do with you." "Yeah... we never found out what we would have for dinner though."