#intercom Chicago

[burreauxsss]

thirty for thirty

background: the boy of every girl's dreams, joe burrow who was in a long lasting relationship with a model, ended due to infidelity, what happens when he runs into someone new at the met gala?

all pics from pinterest, all rights reserved)

synopsis: a game gone wrong means that theres a elephant in the room, that joe and y/n finally address

word count: 1.5k

notes: grammarly is really a pain when i try to write on google docs, so please ignore any spelling mistakes/correction mistakes.. anyways im home for awhile so im gonna be writing alot of these to pass my time.

warning: this is a au aka alternative universe series.

📍Chicago IL

The wheels of the jet screeched onto the runway, slowing to a quiet hum as the cabin lights flickered low. Joe leaned back in his seat, jaw tight, hands clasped in front of him. His phone vibrated for the 50th time that hour, texts from Ja’Marr, an ESPN reporter, and his PR guy all lighting up the screen. But the only person he cared about still hadn’t answered his last text.

Joe: “Landed, be there in 20, you okay?”

He stood up slowly, grabbing his duffel and tugging his hoodie up over his curls. A pair of oversized black sunglasses slid on as his Bose headphones connected. Music wasn’t playing. He just needed an excuse not to talk.

Two security guys spotted him, they didn’t speak for the sake of their job.

Joe moved through the small terminal fast, avoiding eye contact. But it didn’t matter, someone always noticed.

A guy in a Bears hoodie whispered to his girlfriend, eyes wide. “Yo… that’s Joe Burrow. What’s he doing here?”

Someone else took a blurry photo from the corner near the airport store. It’d be on Twitter in 15 minutes with the caption: “Joe Burrow in Chicago tonight?”

But Joe wasn’t checking social media. He wasn’t thinking about trolls or teammates or press conferences.

He was thinking about Y/N.

And how, when he saw her on FaceTime earlier, her face looked tired in a way that scared him. Like she was disappearing under all the pressure. Like she was trying to armor herself so hard she was breaking from the inside.

He was thinking about how the world had turned on her this weekend, over a foul, a look, a shove. Like they’d been waiting for her to mess up.

And he was thinking about how he hadn’t done enough, not publicly, privately, or when it mattered.

He reached the SUV waiting for him just outside baggage claim, tossing his bag into the backseat and sliding in. The driver gave him a nod.

“Straight to the address?”

Joe nodded. “Yeah. Fast as you can.”

As the city blurred past outside, his mind ran faster.

He was never one to react emotionally. He liked slow decisions, controlled narratives. But something about this situation lit a fuse in him. The protectiveness. The guilt. The helplessness.

He’d watched women he cared about get ripped apart by the press before, hell, even his ex girlfriend, but he always promised that this time around, it’ll be different.

Fifteen minutes later, parked in front of her high rise condo, Joe sat in the backseat of the SUV, watching her condo from the tinted window.

No paparazzi yet. But the night had that scared feeling, like anything could go wrong.

He stared at his phone, opened up Instagram, and hovered over the photo he’d taken days ago.

Y/N, in his Bengals hoodie. Hair up. Pizza in hand. Barefoot in the kitchen.

A candid. He’d taken it the morning after the Met Gala, laughing while she told him a story about her teammate’s terrible blind date.

He hadn’t posted it then, didn't want to make her feel attacked, and never wanted to face backlash for it.

But now, he was feet away from her. And when she opened that door? Everything was going to change.

The intercom sounded sharp in the silence of Y/N’s living room.

She didn’t move at first. Didn’t breathe. Just sat on her couch in Joe’s hoodie with her knees drawn up to her chest, phone face down on the coffee table, untouched since the last wave of hate started crashing in.

She already knew who it was, he said he was coming, but she didn’t believe he actually would.

She exhaled, finally walking to the screen by the front door. She tapped the video feed.

There he was.

Joe Burrow. Hoodie. Hands in his pockets. Head down.

Her heart clenched, and she buzzed him in.

A few seconds later, three soft knocks at the door.

She opened it slowly. He looked up. Eyes bloodshot from the flight, jaw clenched, voice low.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she whispered.

Neither of them moved.

Then he stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug so tight, she nearly fell into it. Her fingers gripped his back instantly, pressing into the cotton of his hoodie, and she felt the tension he carried, shoulders stiff, arms protective.

No kiss. Just presence. His weight. His warmth. His breath was near her ear.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice so quiet she almost didn’t catch it. “I should��ve shut this shit down sooner.”

She swallowed. “It’s not your job to fix it.”

He pulled back just enough to look her in the face. “Maybe not. But I can stand with you. That’s all I want to do.”

Y/N blinked hard. “You flew out here just to-”

“Yes,” he cut in. “I’m done hiding like you’re a problem I need to keep quiet. Like I’m protecting my image by protecting my distance. I should’ve known better. You don’t need protection. You just need truth.”

She stared at him, lips parted. “So what now?”

Joe stepped inside, shut the door behind him, and dropped his bag by the wall.

“Now,” he said, pulling out his phone, “we launch.”

yn.handle

❤️ 1m 💬 30,000

Liked by: lahjay_10 haileyvanlith teehiggins joeyb_9 and others

yn.handle: most unexpected plot twist @/joeyb_9

haileyvanlith: oh we KNEW

username_1: joe please dont do this to me i have work in the morning

username_2: just fell to my knees inside a walmart username_3: just saw someone fall to their knees inside a walmart

joeyb_9: beautiful.

*load more comments*

📍Chicago Sky Practice Facility     Chicago, IL 

The second Y/N walked through the gym doors, everything stopped.

Basketballs bounced in slow motion. Sneakers squeaked and stalled. Her teammates all turned toward her like they’d been waiting for this exact moment.

She could feel it in her bones, the aftermath of that post. The unspoken questions. The sidelong glances. The “omg bitch you better tell me everything” energy vibrating under the surface.

She kept her walk slow, steady, hoodie tied around her waist, headphones in, pretending to scroll her phone like she hadn’t seen her face on SportsCenter this morning or read a TMZ thread talking about her. 

She made it halfway to her cubby when Hailey  practically launched a Gatorade at her head.

“SOOOOOOO.” Hailey dragged it out dramatically. “You were just gon’ soft launch that man to hell and BACK, huh?”

Y/N smirked. “Technically… it was a hard launch.”

Courtney, already lacing up her shoes, threw in, “Hard launch? Girl, you damn near livestreamed your marriage license.”

“Yeah,” Kamilla said, jogging by with a towel. “Twitter thought y’all were engaged by midnight.”

Hailey added from now across the court, “And don’t think we didn’t clock that he’s been liking all your old thirst traps.”

Y/N opened her locker and grinned. “Oh, you went through the likes?”

Hailey was grinning like a kid on Christmas. “Duh. I saw him hit that bikini pic from the Turks like he was tryna go BACK in time.”

Y/N tossed her gym bag down and sat. “Okay, but real talk, y’all not mad at the circus right now?”

Courtney shrugged. “We’re used to the noise.”

Kamilla leaned against the lockers. “Girl, you handled the noise. Caitlin Clark tried to send you to the ER last game, and you still walked off the court like Rihanna in heels.”

“Plus,” Hailey added, “half of Chicago loves a little drama. And the other half just became Bengals fans overnight.”

Maddy deadpanned, “Except Caitlin stans. They’re already writing essays on Twitter.”

Y/N exhaled, stretching her arms over her head. “It’s just a lot. People think I’m here to be a headline. Not a hooper.”

That made the girls pause.

Courtney walked up, placed a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “Listen. They might come for your relationship. They might even boo your free throws. But you lace up and lock in every game. That’s what counts.”

Hailey added with a grin, “Besides, if we do play the Fever again, I wanna see you drop 30 and then blow a kiss to Joe courtside.”

Everyone hollered in unison as they headed out for warmups. The coach walked in and clapped once. “Let’s get focused. Cameras are showing up later, so put your game faces on.”

He gave Y/N a pointed look, her chin held high for once. But during practice, Y/N drilled her shots harder than usual. Hustled harder. Talked less, and when she sank three straight from deep, even Coach cracked a smile.

Kamilla  jogged past her on a breakaway and whispered, “Joe’s favorite player still Caitlin Clark?”

Y/N smirked, wiping her forehead. “Not after this week.”

[thefreakandthehair]

EPILOGUE: THREE YEARS LATER

Eddie sits in the suite in his jersey— Harrington still written across his back years later— with Robin and Nancy on one side, and the slew of children who are no longer children that Steve considers his own on the other. Wayne stands behind him, a lifelong Cubs fan himself, squeezing Eddie’s shoulders in time with the plays.

He’s learned a bit about baseball in earnest over the years, so he understands the tension in the announcer’s voice over the stadium intercom.

The Guardians have a man on first in the 9th inning with a three-two count, Steve’s fielding third base, and the next play means the game.

An out ends the game and earns the Cubs their first World Series in Eddie’s uncle’s lifetime.

A score ends the game and hands the Cubs a loss that Eddie isn’t sure anyone in the suite could stomach on Steve’s behalf.

Wrigley Field is dynamic, loud and thunderous, as the pitcher winds up.

There’s a crack of a bat as the hitter grounds it to third base and Eddie watches, hands in his hair and holding his breath, as Steve fields it effortlessly across the diamond to first base.

He’s out.

Holy shit.

He’s out.

“Harrington makes the play… and it’s over! The Chicago Cubs win the World Series!”

↳read the final chapter of slipped between these ribs of mine [explicit] on ao3: NOW COMPLETE! written for @steddiesmuttyseptember!

it's complete! some people asked to be tagged and I can't for the life of me remember so just tagging some peeps who expressed interest (lemme know if you don't wanna be, of course!): @sageclipse @pearynice @steddieasitgoes @stervrucht @runninriot

@lunaticmarunatic @lihhelsing @steddie-island @kas-eddie-munson @sidekick-hero

@spectrum-spectre @hbyrde36 @queenie-ofthe-void @absurdityaddiction

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @steddieas-shegoes @vecnuthy @hotluncheddie @griefabyss69

@imaginary-maggie-waggie @fkinkindagauche @pluckedstrings @blossomingblueberries

[springtyme]

Hi, I'm so excited your requests are open! I love the way you describe scenes, you take the reader around the full area to understand how the setting affects the emotions of the story so beautifully (thinking of your Simon piece, Homeward Bound, especially).

I'd like to put in a request for Sydney Adamu x reader (gn afab is fine!), something very tender and intimate. I'm imagining an established relationship that's still very new, like maybe they're sharing a night routine for the first time, or on a date at a garden/museum?

Craving something v sweet with a bit of "healthy tension" lol, maybe a little soft smut if you are up to it! Thank you so much for sharing your work, if you don't feel like writing this no worries!

𝐀 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 ♡

Thank you so much dear! I love scene setting so hearing that you enjoy it makes me so happy! <3 I had so much fun with this Syd piece (seriously, I love her so much!) so thank you so much for this request, I hope you like it :)

Sydney Adamu x afab!Reader || Masterlist || Sydney playlist

summary: You and Syd are about to spend your first weekend together. Dinner is being eaten and so is something else.

word count: 3.7k

warnigs: Smut! (18+, mdni!) Food. Fluffy smut, cunnilingus/face-riding, vaginal fingering, nipple play/sucking. Reader is afab but there is used no gendering terms. I'm sorry if there is mistakes or anything seems rushed, I wrote this in one sitting and I haven't had time to proofread yet.

As you step onto the crowded L train, the familiar sounds of the city surround you. The rumbling of the train, the chatter of fellow passengers, and the occasional screech of brakes fill the air. You find a seat by the window, your packed weekend bag in your lap as you gaze out at the passing cityscape with a mix of excitement and anticipation. 

The weekend ahead holds something special for you – it is the first time you’ll be spending it entirely with Syd, just the two of you. Sydney finally has a whole weekend without any restaurant related obligations which just happens to align with the week her father is out of town and as the train glides through the city, you can’t help but think about how happy you are to have her in your life. 

The two of you had met on a cold afternoon in late February. Little frost crystals had formed at the outside of the windows of the little café you were seated inside of. You had come there to get some work done, your small studio apartment didn’t really allow your creativity to flow and you had hoped that a change in scenery would help you, but without any luck. You had instead ended up staring out of the window at the freezing Chicago. Your laptop closed shut as you sat inside the little warm cocoon that was Kasama, feeling small and alone as you looked out on the outside world of Chicago. You had, at some point, looked up and there she was, Sydney, seated at the other side of the café already looking at you. That’s how it all had started. The two of you had started talking, which then had led to Syd inviting you to join her on a culinary journey across Chicago after she told you that her friend and business partner wouldn’t be able to join her, which otherwise had been the plan. 

You can’t help but smile  as you think back on that day and as the train nears your destination, your smile only grows wider. You walk the short distance to Sydney’s apartment building, your heart beating a little faster with each step. You just can’t wait to see her, she has, in the short amount of time you have known her, become very special to you. 

You press the buzzer, hearing the faint sound of Sydney’s voice through the intercom. “Come on up,” she says, her voice filled with warmth and excitement. With a smile on your face, you step into the elevator, your heart pounding in anticipation. As the elevator doors open on Sydney’s floor, you take a moment to compose yourself. You want everything to be perfect, to show her just how much this weekend means to you. You knock on the door, and when it swings open, you’re greeted by Sydney, clad in a comfy sweater, looking gorgeous as always.

“Hi,” she greets you, her eyes sparkling with joy and a gentle smile tugging at her lips. 

In that moment, all your worries and nerves melt away. You step into the apartment, right into Syd’s outstretched arms, feeling an overwhelming sense of ease fall over you.

“Hi,” you answer her, enjoying the feeling of her arms around you, as she hugs you tightly. You tow off your shoes and shed your coat which Sydney takes from you to hang up for you before taking your hand in hers, leading you into the apartment.

As you find yourself in the kitchen, Syd kindly takes your bag, and tells you to sit down while she puts your bag into her bedroom. The warm, inviting aroma of simmering spices fills your nostrils  and you can’t help but smile at Sydney’s culinary prowess. The soft glow of the day’s last sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a comforting glow upon the apartment, adorning everything with a soft golden hue.  

“Whatcha cookin’?” You ask, loud enough for her to hear in the other room.  

“Butternut squash soup with a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg as an appetizer. And for the main course, we’re having rosemary roasted chicken with a maple glaze and caramelized Brussels sprouts.”

“Wow, that sounds amazing, smells delicious too. Are you sure you don’t need any help?” You ask from your seat at the kitchen island. 

“Nah, I’m good, and I’m almost done anyway, I’ve wanted to try this recipe out anyway,” she tells you, like cooking the enormous amount of food was nothing. “You can help with the dishes after though,” she adds with a cheeky smile on her face as she reenters the kitchen. 

“Well, that, I surely can. I might also just be more in the way than any help with the food,” you say with a light laugh.

It’s not that you’re bad in a kitchen, but you are nowhere near Sydney’s level and even though a part of you feels incredibly guilty for not helping you can’t deny how much you love watching her work. Completely in her element. So you let her do her thing and stay put . Nimble fingers dancing across the pots and pans, her brows knitted with focus as she begins to compose the meal, orchestrating a symphony of flavors. “No, you wouldn’t be in the way, that’s not what I meant, I just want to cook for you… It’s like the thing I know how to do, and…” she trails off for a second, eyes staring down at the food before continuing. “I love cooking for the people that are special to me, I guess you could say that it is my ‘love language’ or whatever.” 

She does air quotes at ‘love language, but you can’t help but smile at her words. You feel incredibly lucky as you watch her work her culinary magic, especially after what she just said. The way she moves with such grace and confidence in the kitchen is truly mesmerizing. As the mouthwatering aroma of the cooking food fills the room, you find yourself captivated by her artistry, her words really tugging at your heartstrings. 

You understand her desire to cook for you, to express her love through her culinary creations. You reach out and gently take her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I know,” you say softly, your voice filled with warmth and appreciation. “It’s one of the things I admire the most about you, you know… It’s not just about the food, it is about the care and thought you put into it. It really is something special Syd. The way you care… It’s really admirable.”

Her eyes soften, a small smile playing on her lips. “You know what?” she says, her voice filled with gratitude. “Having someone to cook for means the world to me. So, thank you for wanting to eat my food, just having you sit there is actually a great help, it helps remind me why I love cooking.” She lets out with a warm laugh, but the sincerity of her words aren’t lost in the slightest by it. 

So you stay put. The sizzle of vegetables hitting the hot oil and the occasional clatter of utensils against the countertops create a rhythmic melody that fills the room. And so, you continue to sit at the kitchen island, watching Sydney work her culinary magic.

You watch as she gracefully garnishes the soup with a sprinkle of fresh herbs, roasted pumpkin seeds and pieces of finely sliced chili, transforming the dish into a culinary masterpiece. The delicious smell of the dish wafts through the air, teasing your senses and making your mouth water in anticipation. 

Finally, Sydney places a steaming bowl of soup in front of you. The vibrant colors and rich aroma enticing you.“Well, bon appétit,” she says, during a little hand gesture towards the bowl, an almost shy smile on her lips but her eyes gleam with excitement as she sits down at the other side of the table with a bowl of her own.

As you take your first spoonful, the velvety texture and warm spices dance on your tongue, filling you with a comforting sensation. You savor each bite, cherishing the meal Syd  has cooked with so much care and love. 

The two of you eat and talk and laugh and after the meal you do the dishes together, the jokes and banter flow freely, and occasionally a blob of soap sud will playfully be flickered at the other, turning the usually so mundane task into a delightful ordeal, the clinking of dishes becomes the applause for your comedic genius.

With the dishes done and the kitchen cleaned up, you both find yourselves in the cozy living room, contemplating what to do next. Sydney suggests watching a movie, and the idea immediately sparks your interest.

“Sounds good,” you say, a smile forming on your lips. “Anything in mind?”

Sydney thinks for a moment, her eyes scanning the shelves of DVDs. She has told you about her father’s love of physical media, which has led to a sumptuous collection of movies, music and books filling out multiple floor to ceiling shelves of the apartment. “How about a rom com? I could do with something light and heartwarming.”

You nod in agreement, appreciating the idea of a feel-good movie to complement the warmth and happiness you already feel being in Sydney’s presence. Together, you browse through the collection, but you don’t really find anything that peaks any of your interests. Finally she turns to you when it is clear between you that maybe a movie wasn’t the right call after all, something about the idea of having to look at a screen instead of each other suddenly feeling immensely silly to both of you. 

“We could also just sit for a little while,” she says, a lovesick gleam in her eyes. 

You smile at the suggestion and feel your heart flutter at the adoration in her eyes. The idea of simply enjoying each other’s company without any distractions sounds perfect. “I like that idea,” you reply, your voice filled with affection. 

She redirects her attention from movies to the record collection, pulling one out from the shelves. Shedding the vinyl from its sleeve before delicately lifting the lid of the beautiful vintage record player. Placing the album onto the turntable, handling it with utmost care, gently lowering the needle onto the vinyl. The smooth sound of the Delfonics filling the room, as they start to croon for you. 

You settle onto the soft couch, leaning against each other as you both take a moment to soak in the tranquility of the room. With the sun now fully set the only source of light in the room comes from a single table lamp and the candles which Syd had deliberately lit for the two of you, their warm glow casts flickering shadows across the walls, creating an ambiance of cozy intimacy. 

You lean your head on Sydney’s shoulder, feeling the warmth and security of her presence as your body’s intertwine. The silence between you is comfortable, filled with a deep sense of understanding and acceptance. As you sit there, Sydney’s hand finds its way into yours, your fingers lacing together. The gentle touch sends a wave of comfort and contentment through your body, and you can’t help but feel grateful.

Without needing words, you understand each other’s thoughts and emotions, and it feels like time stands still. In this moment, the world outside seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this bubble of love and tranquility. It’s as if nothing else matters except for the connection you share and the giddy happiness that comes with new love. 

“God, I’m so glad Carmy was being a little bitch and ditched me that day at Kasama,” Syd lets out a breathy giggles, shaking her head gently as she finally breaks the silence.

You lift your head, your eyes finding hers. “Me too,” you say, a soft smile tugging at the corner of your lips. 

“Yeah?” She grins down at you. 

“Yeah,” you nod, a grin of your own now plastered on your face. 

In fact the word ‘glad’ doesn’t even come close to how you feel about it, the word seems way too weak to hold all the feelings you have on the topic. Grateful, ecstatic, completely and utterly over the fucking moon, those are words that might be a little closer to describe how you actually feel about it. But you don’t say that, not yet. It’s not that long since that fateful afternoon when you and Syd had first met, and even less time has passed since the two of you got your shit together and actually confessed your feelings towards each other. One day, you’ll tell her just how incredibly happy you are that Carmen decided to be ‘a little bitch’, to use her own words, which led to you and Syd meeting. 

“You think Hallmark sells ‘thank you for being such a little bitch’ cards?” Syd giggles. You know that, despite her choice of words, she actually cares a lot about Carmy. Her and her coworkers are basically family, maybe sometimes a bit dysfunctional, but nonetheless one that does care deeply for one another. Syd had, apparently, stabbed Richie in the ass one time, which they seem to have reconciled nicely from, and somehow only has made Syd all the more attractive to you. 

“I don’t think so, but I can get you some paper and crayons if you wanna get crafty,” 

Her warm, affectionate laughter fills the room while ‘If I ever saw a girl that I needed in this world you are the one for me’  is sung from the speakers and you can’t do anything but agree with the statement. You snuggle a little closer into her and she does the same. The two of you have become completely entangled by now.  

“I love moments like these,” she whispers, her voice filled with affection.

“Yeah, me too,” you reply with a soft sigh.

She dips her head down as you lean up, and your lips meet. What starts out as a slow and gentle kiss soon turns more heated. The two of you move in sync, changing the position on the couch, with Syd now lying beneath you, her back pressed down into the soft cushions, with you  hovering over her, maintaining the kiss without breaking it even once. And you continue until your lungs are burning and you have to stop to catch your breath again. The both of you panting heavily as you break apart but you don’t take long before you again plant your lips on her, this time kissing down her jaw and neck. You feel how she squirms under you, little muffled whines escaping from her closed lips as she grows more desperate for you.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whisper into her skin, your voice filled with admiration. You lift your head again, your eyes finding hers . “Can.. Can I take these off?” Your voice laced with a little shyness as you ask her, your fingers ghost over the hem of her pants. But your shyness disappears when she nods with eagerness, pulling off her sweater as you start to undo her pants which she is quick to kick off, leaving her in only her panties and bra. You take a second to take in the view of her all spread out on the couch for you and you can’t believe how lucky you are to have met her, let alone that she reciprocates your feelings. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” you sigh with admiration, dipping your head down again, this time planting a trail of kisses down from her collarbone towards the vale between her breasts, continuing down her stomach until you get to the band of her underwear. 

“You want me to take these off too?” you ask, looking up at her, through heavy lids, your heart beating loudly in your ears. You and Syd have been taking things slow, the two of you never have been this intimate before, but it feels so right in the moment and the sweet sounds she is making for you only makes your need to taste her even greater. Your eyes lock, she moves her hand down towards you, sweetly cupping your cheek, stroking the pad of her thumb gently over your cheekbone before nodding. “Please, do,” she almost pleads.           

You keep eye contact as you get into a better position. Your fingers tug at her panties as you start to slowly glide them down her legs. As the garment has left her body, Sydney spreads her legs wider for you, offering you a better view of herself, her pussy already dripping from eagerness.         

“God, you’re so gorgeous,” you purr before lowering your head, kissing up her thighs until you reach her glistening cunt. Burying your face between her legs you flatten your tongue against her entrance, sliding your tongue through her wet folds, a warm shiver running through you as you taste her for the first time. You hum into her, loving the way she tastes and feels against your tongue, lapping into her, flicking your tongue against her clit, making her whine out with pleasure which just makes you even more eager to hear more from her.      

“Fuck, right there! Right, fucking, there…” she pants out as you work your tongue a little harder against her.

She bucks her hips upwards, gently pressing her mound against your face. This makes you hum into her pussy again as you feel a warm rush run down your spine by the firm feeling of her against your mouth, which makes her let out a breathy moan from the vibration. Your hands find her hips. Tender fingers, softly digging into her skin as you help her find a rhythm as she starts to gently grind into your mouth.   

Her moans grow louder and higher in pitch, which only makes you move your tongue with even more determination and her body starts to tremble. You move your lips, beginning to slowly suck at her clit as she comes closer and closer to her release. You let your thumb take over the work on her sensitive clit, circling it gently as you start to lick into her again. 

“I-I’m… I’m so close,” she whines out, making you hum into her again, letting her know that you don’t have any intention to stop. You feel how her walls tighten around your tongue, as she starts to cry out in pleasure, sensing how her muscles relax as she starts to come undone on your tongue. You keep going, keep lapping into her, keep fucking her with your tongue as she rides out her climax, and you have never tasted anything sweeter. 

You finally detach your mouth from her entrance, your chin and lips glistening with a mix of her arousal and your own saliva, your eyes blown wide, feeling light, almost drunk from her juices. 

“Come here,” Syd whispers, her pupils dilated, making her already dark eyes look like two glistening forest lakes at night. She is so beautiful, you almost can’t take it. A sweet, gleeful smile on her face as she pulls you up to her again, pulling you into a sweet kiss, the taste of her still on your lips. 

Her hands sneak under your shirt, palming your warm skin underneath before pushing the cotton up your body, prompting you to shred the garment like she had with hers just before. You break the kiss, only for long enough so that you can pull it over your head, flinging it on the ground before connecting your lips again. Her hands find your exposed chest, gently kneading at the soft skin before she ends the kiss, moving her head down, taking your right nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it before starting to gently suck it into her mouth. Her hand starts playing with your left nipple. 

You let out a series of soft moans as she works so tenderly on your tits. She lets go of your nipple with a soft ‘pop’ before moving on to your left breast, taking the other into her mouth. Her now free right hand starts to travel down to your entrance, sneaking it into the hem of your pants and down your underwear. 

She slowly slides a finger through your folds before beginning to tease your clit with slow firm circles. You gasp out from the sensation, your body feeling lighter and lighter. after a while she moves her hand, slowly gliding first one, then two, fingers inside of you, stating to slowly fuck you with her fingers. The wet squelching sound of her fingers pumping into you now rings in your ears. 

She keeps going and when she curls her fingers at just the right angle you feel how the last string snaps, falling over the edge. Your eyes roll back in your skull and your toes curl as your climax washes over you in electric hot rushes. You tap her shoulder, making Syd release your nipple so she can kiss your lips instead. She kisses you through your climax, turning you into putty in her hands.      

“That was nice…” She pants when the two of you finally brak apart, a lovesick smile on her face. 

“Yeah… very nice,” you agree, wit a smile mirroring hers. “Should we go get cleaned up?” 

“Yeah, we should, but let’s just stay here for a little while first,” she replies, a tired but blissful smile painting her lips.

So you do. You both lay there, breathing heavily, bodies intertwined, basking in the afterglow of the moment. The room is filled with a mix of warmth, desire, and a fulfilling sense of contentment. Time seems to stand still as you cherish the intimate connection you’ve just shared.

The world outside this moment seems distant and unimportant. All that matters is the warmth of Syd’s body against yours, the rhythm of your heartbeats synchronizing, and the blissful intimacy you’ve found in each other’s arms. The silence between you is comfortable, filled with unspoken words and a profound understanding of the depth of your connection.

[theapangea]

Hi!

Can you do a lip gallagher x reader smut?

She and lip had something going on but the karen thing happend, so a few years later she comes back and they sleep together, but this time she doesnt really wants something serious.

The One That Got Away

Pairing/Characters: Lip Gallagher x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warning: 18+ Minors DNI!!! Mention of parent being sick, being heartbroken, unprotected p in v, bathroom sex

A/N: This is definitely a long one but a super good one! thank u sm to anon for the request. I hope you enjoy !!!! if you see any mistakes, no you didn't. kisses for you for supporting my work!

*Also posted on AO3: Theapangea*

Masterlist

You almost forgot.

You almost forgot that the subway stop on 5th street smells predominantly of hotdogs even though there is no hotdog stand around. The way the subway putters with music from the guy asking for spare change. That the hot, stale air of the subway carts coat your whole body even though it is cold and wet just beyond the steel frame.

You almost forgot how the L’s seats are the most uncomfortable seats in the entire world as you wiggle your butt into the uncushioned plastic. That your phone starts to lose wifi signal around the bridge, music stuttering along into your ears, skipping every other word. That the train becomes less crowded when it’s raining. Your favorite time to be here.

You almost forgot how beautiful the city looks as you pass by it so quickly that all the colors begin to blend together. That so many memories dance across the windows, the faint sound of laughter mixing with the music blasting through your ear drums. That your heart is somewhere scattered into pieces at one of these stops. Thankfully not remembering which one it was as it happened too long ago. 

You damn near almost forgot everything about this city. But it keeps drawing you back in. You’ve never really been able to leave Chicago, huh?

You pull your purse strap up onto your shoulder as the train aggressively comes to a stop. The loud intercom muffling something inaudible as you step out of the train, underneath the covering of the overhead platform. The smell of day-old garbage and wet leaves fill your nostrils as your body begins to move you in the direction of The Alibi.

It’s been a long couple of days with your dad in the hospital. He’s finally home but you can’t convince yourself that it’s a good idea to stay for a couple of days. You know that your mom needs the help but having to stay any longer in Chicago will make you go crazy.

Is making you go crazy.

You just want a quick drink before, hopefully, taking the train back to your hotel and then away from Chicago tomorrow morning. 

The rain has faded into a drizzle, your hood still pulled over your wet hair. Hands tucked neatly into your jacket pockets. You push open the heavy red door. The stench of cigarettes and beer wrapping around you in a warm hug. It’s weird to be back in a place that holds so many memories. This was the place you and Lip…Lip?

And there he is in all his glory. 

The boy who shattered your fragile teenage heart so many years ago taking a quick sip of the beer in his hands. Across the bar, sitting at the counter, laughing with Kevin. 

Your head rushes as the memories start to flood in so rapidly. The bar becomes hazy, people blurring as they pass by, the music growing louder in your ears. Pulling your hood down with your right hand while the left works to fix the fly aways.

Your eyes are attempting to focus but all you can see is Lip. His hair is a little shorter now, his body more built as his biceps are barely contained beneath the material of his shirt. The way his mouth forms in a smile when Kevin says something funny. 

A buzz trickles up your body, the giddy feeling you get when you’ve had a couple drinks in you. But you haven’t had anything to drink…not yet, at least. This was the feeling you got when you and Lip were together. It was this sort of radiating energy. 

You never thought you’d feel this way again. You’re unsure if you want to feel this way now. You’ve suppressed every memory of Lip, each too painful to relive again.

But seeing him after all of these years feels hopeful. You like the buzz that you get when you’re around him. 

God he looks so good.

You feel almost stupid thinking these thoughts.

You tried so damn hard to forget about Lip. But no man ever came anywhere close. Ever made you feel so good. You couldn’t stop yourself from comparing any future boyfriend to him. Knowing Lip was always enough for you and no other man can measure up.

The sound of your name across the bar pulls you from your inner thoughts. Two pairs of eyes now on you, Kevin waving for you to come over. But your feet were bricks. You are tempted to abandon all hope and get the hell out of here.

Your gaze passes from Kevin to Lip. The instant spark. The instant attractive. The instant pain. It is everything to you. The way your body leaks in the presence of him. You’d do anything to feel the weight of him on top of you again. 

Dragging your feet along the wooden floor, wrapping your hands over your purse strap and phone to attempt to stop them from shaking as you get closer…and closer…and closer to Lip. The scent of his cologne mixed with cigarettes engulf you. His present is greater than himself. 

Kevin’s voice breaks through the tension that surrounds you and Lip, “Beer?” He sets the bottle on the counter, the popping sound of the cap ripples through your body.

Your eyes jump to Kevin quickly until they settle on the glass bottle pushed in front of you. But you can still feel the way Lip’s eyes are digging into your skin, like glass shards. 

“So what brings you back to town? I thought you moved off to New York or somewhere grand like that.” Kevin begins, he leans on the counter with his elbows.

It is nice that he’s talking. It’d be super weird to run into Lip and not have some sort of barrier to stop the awkwardness.

Wrapping your fingers around the cold bottle, picking it up to take a sip of beer, letting the first sip of alcohol encourage you to speak. “Yeah, New York. Just some family stuff that I needed to come back for.”

“Oh, is everything okay with your mom and dad?” Kevin’s eyebrows furrowed, the tone of worry laces his words. Your dad has been coming to The Alibi long before Kevin became owner so Kevin knows your dad really well.

“Everything’s fine now. Nothing to worry about. I’ll actually be heading home tomorrow.” You state and force a smile towards him. Reassuring him that everything is alright.

A customer to your right pulls Kevin’s attention away from your conversation before he can say anything else. He hints a smile towards you before speaking some nonsense to the guy. 

Then it’s just you and Lip. Bothing babying your beers and sneaking looks from one another. The air between you both is thick. You hate how awkward it is between you and Lip now. 

Yes, he broke your heart. Yes, many hurtful words were said between the both of you. But he was your Lip. He knew everything about you. You feel stupid that you let all of it go over some other girl. 

You close your eyes, focus on your breathing and try to work up the courage to speak to him. If it wasn’t for Kevin, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now. You would have definitely turned on your heels and run out of this bar faster than any human can possibly run. 

Letting the liquid courage take full effect, you finally speak,  “How are you?” Your mouth suddenly dries from the simple question. Washing it quickly with another sip of beer. The cool liquid coating its way down your throat. 

You peer over to Lip. His eyes are already on you. The faint freckles that scatter across his noses are even more beautiful than remembered.

His eyes are soft as they scan your face. His demeanor is calm, his hands still wrapped delicately around the glass bottle. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. You don’t even know if there’ll be any conversation. Maybe he’s been mad at you all this time, just like you’ve been mad at him. 

But the train of thought escapes your mind as Lip’s hand swiftly wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you into him. Crashing violently against his lips. The aggressive need of the taste of you. Attempting to match his rough nature. His lips move fast as he breathes you in. Needing every single ounce of you, making up for all the lost time. 

Lip draws back slightly, his mouth only centimeters away from yours. Your heavy breathes mix together as he places his forehead against yours. 

“I’ve missed you,” his whisper is so soft, so innocent. Your heart swells at the vulnerability. 

Your hands make fist in the fabric of his shirt as you pull him closer to you, catching his mouth in yours again. Your body’s moving closer to one another. You need him right now. You can’t wait a minute longer. Pulling away from him again, locking his eyes with yours and quickly gesturing that you take this elsewhere. 

He smirks, eyes darkening as you realize you both have the same idea. He immediately wraps your hand in his as he leads you towards the bathroom. 

Pushing the door open with his back. His hands on your waist as he pulls you with him. Forcefully shutting and locking the door before his attention is all on you. His attention is only for you.

Lip is the lion and you are the deer. Knees shaking as he stalks closer to you. Feeling so small compared to him as he lips are on you again. Sucking, biting, licking, desperately needing the taste of you over and over again. 

Grinding your hips against him, his hard cock pressed firmly behind his jeans. Both of your hands make quick work to tear each other’s clothes off. Unbuckling pants, removing shirts, the skin to skin contact is electrifying. 

Lip flips you around, your chest placed firmly against the wall. His hands slowly move along your sides, thumbs looping on the hem of your pants and underwear, pulling them violently down your legs. Sticking your bare ass against Lip’s growing member as he places wet kisses along your shoulder. 

Lip shoves one hand down his jeans to release his penis from their prison. Holding up your cheeks with his other hands, stroking his cock as he aligns it with your entrance. The clear liquid leaking between your legs as he runs his tip around your sensitive nub. Your whiny moans signaling that you can’t take being without him for much longer. You are going to burst even if he isn’t inside of you. 

Lip pushes deeply into you, roughly sinking his pulsing cock between your slick folds. Both of his hands wrap you closely like a hug as your walls expand to accommodate him. The waves of pleasure run across your skin as he pounds into your sweet bliss. 

Moans and whines filling the small bathroom. His thrust is hard and wild. Sinking your wet core deeper and deeper onto his shaft. The eagerness of having you is overwhelming for Lip. He’s so close and wants nothing more than to take you with him.

“Come for me, baby.” He groans against your ear, nibbling your earlobe. 

And it is everything you need to release yourself onto his cock. Standing on your tiptoes as your body violently shakes in his arms. His thrust becomes messier as you release yourself on to him, the act sending him over the edge after you, filling your little pussy with his warm liquid. 

The air is hot as he pulls out of you. Grabbing a couple of paper towels from the dispenser to clean himself and you up. Your core is sensitive as the rough material glides against it. Your ass is still in full display for Lip before reaching down to pick your undies and pants off the floor. 

Lip leans against the bathroom wall mirroring your movements of getting his pants back on as you make your way over to the sink. Splashing some water on your face before looking at yourself in the mirror. You can barely recognize the girl in front of you. The overwhelming feeling of want for Lip pushed away the feelings of pain. But only briefly as they finally start to settle in again. 

Lip scratches the back of his neck, his eyes dropping onto the ground. Your name hanging gently on the tip of his tongue, “God, I didn’t realize things were so bad with your parents. I would’ve helped out if I’d known.”

Lip was really close to your dad when you were both younger. Your dad acting like more of a father to him than Frank ever did. You know it’s true, if Lip knew your dad was sick. He’d drop everything to help out.

And you loved Lip for that.

But it isn’t his problem. Especially now, especially after what happened between the two of you.

“It’s not your problem, Lip.” You say, looking down into the sink in front of you. You didn’t really feel like talking about it, especially to him.

You wipe your hands and face with a paper towel. Tossing the paper into the trash before reaching for the door handle, “I should go.”

“You’re leaving?” Lip reaches out to grab your wrist. His fingers wrapping tightly around you.

Your eyes shift downwards as you don't know exactly what to say. Maybe saying nothing will hurt less. But are you trying to convince him or you?

Pulling away from his grip, exiting the bathroom. Saying a quick goodbye to Kevin as you walk out the main entrance. It is all behind you now. You got the sex out of the way so there’s nothing more to be said or done.

But just like before, you could never shake Lip as a shadow. You feel his presence walking quickly behind you. He follows you around like some puppy who needs a home. You chose to try to ignore him and make your way back to the train station. Maybe he will get tired of following you and just leave you alone once and for all.

“Do you wanna grab a bite to eat?” Lip asks, his voice lower as he is behind you.

You stop immediately once you get to the top of the train platform. Taking a deep breath as you turn around on your heels. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Lip.”

“Why?” 

God, as smart as Lip is. He can be so stupid sometimes.

“Because we aren’t friends anymore. I didn’t come back here for you. And if it wasn’t for my parents then I wouldn’t even be here. I hate Chicago. I hate it because of you. So just act like I wasn’t here, please.” Your voice was so harsh at first, finishing your monologue with barely a whisper. Pleading for him to let you go. 

But Lip is so quick with a response, “But why do you hate me? What the fuck did I do to you that we just stopped being friends.”

“You’re really going to act dumb?” You scoff. “Fucking Karen, dude. Once you started fucking her, you just left me. I was nothing to you. And you were everything to me. And I thought I got over you, this hatred, this pain. But fuck, Lip. You just can’t talk to me like that never happened.”

“I was a kid. I was fucking stupid.”

“And Karen?”

“Something happened to her.” His eyes shift down. The sharp pain in your heart grows.

“Do you still love her?”

“Maybe.”

“Then this will never happen.” Your hand motions between you and Lip.

“I want to give it a chance again. If you’d let me.” He reaches out to grab your fingers. Linking them with his with yours, pulling you towards him.

But you stand firm in your footing. He had you so many years ago. Could have probably had you a couple minutes ago. But now that reality has set in again. Knowing he still loves Karen, knowing he will never love you as much as he loves her. 

Now absolutely knowing this information has torn you. Lip has broken your heart once more. And you can’t even blame him as you were the one who decided to sleep with him. 

Stuttering as you attempt to get the words out, the tears slipping down your cheeks, “I loved you Lip. I still love you. You know that, right? I always did and probably always will. God knows I was never good at letting things…or people…go.” Licking your lips to break as you stop yourself from fully breaking down. “I can’t let you do this to me, Lip. I won’t.”

The train pulls in behind you. The gush of the hot air blowing your hair. Taking a deep breath as you and Lip both stand there, red-eyed and drained. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper as you turn to board the train. 

Turning back to stare at Lip. The steel doors closing between the both of you. The plastic window allows you both to still see the other one last time before the train guts into motion. You instantly grip the metal pole to keep standing as the image of Lip fades into the past, just like every other memory of him. 

But to Lip, you are the fire that lights in his belly. And as much as it pains him to admit, you were the one that got away, he was just too stupid to realize it back then.

~~~

Let me know what you think!!

My replies don't work but you can always send me a message thru inbox if you wanna chat!

Thank you so much for supporting me <3

I am thinking of starting a little tag list for Lip girlies. LMK what you think and if you wanna be tagged in everything Lip going forward. Love you!!

[sevasey51]

Since Connor and his wife both work at med. What would they do during shift to see each other? What about passing each other in the hallways? ☺️

Passing Moments

Summary: Working at Chicago Med, Connor and his wife often find themselves crossing paths in the hospital hallways, during break times, or between surgeries. Despite the fast-paced, high-stress environment, they find small ways to stay connected, offering comfort and love during their hectic shifts.

Connor had been running on empty since early this morning, juggling back-to-back surgeries and trauma cases in the ER. As a trauma surgeon, he was used to the chaos, but today felt a little different—busier, more intense, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to see his wife.

They worked in different departments—he in trauma surgery, and she in critical care—but in a hospital as large as Chicago Med, there were always moments when their paths crossed. It wasn’t uncommon for their quick glances and stolen moments to be the only break in an otherwise grueling day.

Connor was rounding the corner on his way to another patient when he caught a glimpse of her—his wife, standing just outside the ICU, reviewing a chart. Her dark hair was pulled back into a neat bun, and her scrubs were as impeccable as always, but the way she held herself with quiet strength made his heart flutter every time.

She glanced up just as he approached, her eyes lighting up as she saw him. A smile tugged at her lips, and she waved with a gentle nod.

“Busy day?” Connor asked, stepping toward her, his voice low to avoid any interruption.

“You know it. Just the usual chaos,” she replied, her fingers tapping the edge of the chart as she leaned against the wall. “How about you?”

“The usual. But it’s not as bad when I get to see you,” he said with a soft smile, his gaze falling to her eyes as if he couldn’t look at anything else.

She chuckled, a warmth spreading through her chest. “You always know how to make me smile. Even when I’ve got a million things to do.”

Connor glanced over her shoulder, seeing her patients’ vitals flashing on a nearby monitor. “I won’t keep you long,” he said, but his eyes lingered, watching her work. “Just wanted to remind you that I love you.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and despite the flurry of activity around them, she found herself taking a small step closer to him. “Love you, too,” she whispered, her hand brushing against his for a brief moment. The simple touch, the quiet exchange, made the chaos of the hospital fade into the background for just a second.

But reality soon set back in as the intercom crackled to life, paging her for an urgent consult. She sighed, knowing she couldn’t stay longer, but she didn’t want to let go just yet. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

Connor nodded, a soft grin on his face. “I’ll be there. I promise.”

Hours later, during the short break they had, they met in the small break room. It was nothing fancy—just a few tables, some chairs, and a microwave in the corner—but for them, it was a brief moment of peace in the midst of a busy day. They sat together, eating the sandwiches they packed that morning, and their conversation flowed easily despite the exhaustion written on both of their faces.

“I saw you in the hallway earlier,” she said between bites, her eyes sparkling with playful mischief. “You looked like you were about to give up on your patient and come find me.”

Connor chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe. Honestly, I think I was just trying to survive another surgery, and I needed a bit of you to get through it.”

She smirked, teasing him gently. “I think you’re just being dramatic.”

“Hey, when you’re juggling trauma cases, a few words from the person you love are all it takes to keep your head on straight.” His voice softened, and he reached across the table to take her hand. “You make everything easier, even on the worst days.”

She squeezed his hand, feeling the weight of his words. “You make it easier for me, too,” she said, her voice quiet but sincere. “We’re in this together.”

Their brief moment of connection was interrupted by a pager buzzing in the pocket of her scrubs. She groaned, looking at the screen and seeing a critical case in the ICU. “Duty calls,” she said, standing up with a heavy sigh.

Connor rose too, stepping behind her to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be waiting for you at the end of this shift. I promise.”

“Hold me to it,” she replied with a smile, her heart full as she walked toward the door.

As the day stretched on, their interactions were few but meaningful. A quick exchange of glances across the hallway when they passed one another. A brief text during a few quiet minutes between surgeries. Each moment was a reminder of why they loved each other, and why, no matter how hectic their jobs became, they always found a way to stay connected.

By the time their shifts were over, Connor met her at the hospital exit, the tiredness in both of their eyes telling the story of the long day behind them. But as they walked to the car together, their hands brushed, and their shoulders bumped, and for just a moment, the chaos of the world outside melted away.

At the end of a crazy day at Med, they knew they could count on each other. And that was enough to make even the toughest shifts bearable.

[massivedrickhead]

Could you do something for “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”? Maybe as a follow-up or prequel or something to the prompt you did for “I’m not going to yell at you”? Thanks in advance! 🩵

First off, I'm so sorry this took so long! Usually when I go this long without posting any new fics it's because I'm working on something but I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've written anything in the last month.

I've had probably the worst writers' block I can ever remember having and I've just not felt any desire to write anything or work on any of my wips.

I don't even know if this is any good, but I'm hoping it'll pull me out of the slump.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Prompt taken from here

Trigger warning: physical domestic abuse

This is a prequel to this fic

Read on AO3

-

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Chloe didn’t believe him.

She swallowed, the pain radiating from her mouth as she forced a steadying breath through her nose. 

She knew her lip was bust. She could taste the blood in her mouth, could feel the sting when she swept her tongue across it.

“Chloe.”

Chicago knelt in front of her. His eyes were full of tears, one of his hands cradling the other as if he’d hurt it when it collided with her face. As if he was the one in pain right now.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…” he trailed off. “Are you okay?”

Chloe wanted to laugh, but instead tears stung her eyes. 

“Please don’t cry,” he said. “Please… Please just say something.”

“Can you get me some ice please?” Chloe asked, no longer recognising the sound of her own voice.

He seemed to deflate with relief, and Chloe felt her hatred for him grow. 

“Of course,” he said. “Let me help you up.”

Chloe couldn’t help but flinch away from him as he extended his hand towards her, and she saw the briefest flash of anger cross his eyes. 

She took his hand and he helped her up and onto her feet before he disappeared into the kitchen. 

Now alone, she gingerly touched the split in her lip and winced. It hurt more than she’d expected it to.

He’d never hit her before, and even though he was full of apologies and remorse now, Chloe already knew he would do it again. 

He came back with a bag of frozen peas. “We’re out of ice,” he said. 

Chloe nodded and took it from him, holding it against her rapidly swelling lip.

“I’m-”

“I know,” Chloe said, cutting him off. “I know you are.” She couldn’t bear to hear him say it again. “Let’s just… Let’s forget it.”

“Sure,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”

The rest of the evening passed in a tense silence until Chloe finally crawled into bed.

She feigned sleep long enough to hear the sound of Chicago’s snores fill the room, and then she eased herself out of bed.

Shoved in the back of her closet was a bag she’d begun prepping months ago. When the rose-tinted glasses had come off, she started to really see those red flags that she’d so often dismissed.

The bag contained some clothes, toiletries, a small amount of cash, and her important documents.

She grabbed it out of the closet and, still in her pyjamas, climbed into her car and drove. 

-

Beca had been fast asleep when the sound of her apartment buzzer cut through her dreams.

She groaned and fumbled for her phone, one eye closed as the bright screen lit up the room.

It was close to 2 am, and her stomach lurched as the noise continued.

She stumbled out of bed and hurried to the front door, her heart beating uncomfortably in her chest as she did so. 

No one ever knocks at your door at 2 am with good news…

“Hello?” Beca asked into the intercom.

“Beca?”

If Beca’s heart had been beating hard before, it was doing something else entirely now.

“Chloe?”

“Please can I come up?”

Beca hit the button to unlock the door without a second of hesitation, and she waited anxiously for Chloe to reach her apartment.

Even though she’d been expecting it, Beca still jumped at the sound of the tentative knock at the door and she hurried to open it.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said. “I’m so sorry for just turning up like this.” Chloe’s hands were shaking as she adjusted the weight of the bag on her shoulder, and her eyes shining with tears. “Please can I stay? Chicago, he’s…”

Chloe trailed off, but she didn’t need to tell Beca what Chicago had done, because Beca could see it for herself.

Beca felt like she couldn’t speak, so she just stepped aside so Chloe could enter her apartment. She shut the door behind them and slid the chain lock across for good measure.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Chloe said. “I’m sorry.”

Beca shook her head and forced herself to find her voice. “Don’t be sorry,” she said. “Of course you can stay here.”

Chloe seemed to deflate with relief in front of her, and Beca hated that in Chloe’s mind, there might have been a chance she’d have turned her away.

“Stupid question, but are you okay?” Beca asked.

Chloe shrugged. “I don’t think so,” she said, tears filling her eyes faster than she could wipe them away. 

Beca wasted no time in closing the gap between them and wrapping Chloe up in a hug. “I’m so sorry this happened to you,” she said. “How can I help? What can I do?”

“Can I go lay down?” Chloe asked, the adrenaline that had been keeping her going was now quickly fading away. “I’m really tired.”

“Of course,” Beca said, reluctantly ending their hug. “Take my bed until I can get the spare room set up. I can sleep on the couch.”

Chloe took hold of her hand. “Please come with me,” she said. “I don’t want to be by myself.”

Beca nodded and squeezed Chloe’s hand. Her throat felt tight. “Go ahead,” she said, the strain evident in her voice. “I’ll be right in.”

With Chloe out of the room, Beca’s hands closed into fists, and she clenched her jaw shut in order to hold back the scream that threatened to erupt. 

She’d never felt an anger quite like this before, and she needed it to go before she joined Chloe in the bedroom.

She closed her eyes and imagined herself pummeling every square inch of Chicago. Her jaw was clenched so tight she was amazed her teeth hadn’t shattered. 

She counted to ten in her head, and then forced a slow breath out through her mouth.

Her anger was no good to Chloe right now. Chloe needed her to be strong and stable, but not angry.

She could be angry later, but not now. Not tonight.

She filled a glass with water and returned to the bedroom. Chloe was curled up on her side, her face lit up by her phone screen.

“Here,” Beca said, placing the water on the nightstand.

“Thanks,” Chloe said, locking her phone and placing it on her nightstand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Beca asked, climbing into the bed beside her.

“Not really,” Chloe said. “Not yet.”

“Okay,” Beca said. “That’s okay, you don’t have to.”

“I, um, I don’t really know what to do Bec,” Chloe said, her voice beginning to waver again. She let out a small sob, that was quickly followed by another. “I’m sorry,” she said, quickly wiping her eyes.

“Don’t,” Beca said. “Don’t be sorry, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” She lifted her arm so Chloe could cuddle into her side, which she eagerly did. 

“What’s going to happen when he figures out where I am?”

Beca felt that anger pulse in her again, but she pushed it away. “I don’t know,” Beca answered honestly. “But we’ll figure it out. I do know one thing though, and that’s that he won’t put his hands on you again.”

Chloe knew it wasn’t as simple as that but she allowed herself, for that moment, to feel safe. To feel protected. She decided to believe her. 

“All you need to worry about now is getting some rest,” Beca said. “We can deal with everything else tomorrow.”

[scariusaquarius]

blood, guts, and transformers.

Chapter One: Let's Take a Roadtrip

Winchester! Reader

The school was going nuts, students and teachers murmuring to themselves as we all watched the news from the projector in the gym. The live footage from the news showed the city of Chicago on the screen. Large robots, explosions, and devastation were all over the city and I felt my heart stop. There was no way that this…chaos, this genocide, was Chicago. My eyes burned at the revelation that passed through my head.

'My parents are in Chicago right now.'

Shooting up, I ran out of the gym, teachers and students who recognized me calling my name, but I couldn't give them the time of day. My eyes were bleary from the tears, and my chest burned from being so tight. My lungs yearned for air, but I wished to never breathe again. What if my parents were dead? What if they didn't make it out of the city? I collapsed against the wall of the school and panted, sobbing loudly. The sound of the intercom made me jolt as I tried to steady my crying.

"Attention all Students and Faculty. All school personnel are dismissed until further notice. No student, teacher, nor school faculty should be on campus. Please return home. Bus riders are to report to the bus loading area."

I bit my lip and looked at the sky, crying in fear. How could the day be so bright and sunny when such a dark event was taking place? Looking down, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

'Come on, Winchester. You're a big girl. You need to get up and stay strong. Mom and Dad are probably on their way back from Chicago right now.'

Getting up on weak knees, I held my hoodie to my body tighter, walking down the cement sidewalk and then the grass, the school being forgotten from the deep tresses of my brain. Hearing a honk, I looked over to see my English III teacher, Ms. Stelar.

"Hey, honey. Do you need a ride home?"

I nodded and walked to the passenger side of the car, getting in. Ms. Stelar asked me gently.

"Are you alright, dear? I saw you run out from the gym."

"My parents are in Chicago."

I whispered. Ms. Stelar widened her brown eyes and a dark-skinned hand rested upon my own hand.

"Oh, baby. I'm sure your parents are just fine. Does that mean that you're by yourself?"

"Yeah, but I'll be ok. I promise. I'm sure my Uncle Sam and Cas are going over to Chicago to find my parents...if they're not coming to get me first."

Ms. Stelar turned down a dirt road with nothing but cornfields and wheat fields beside us, going up a hill to a two-story house. My home. She was quiet, but I was still sniffling, shaking from within the material of my hoodie. She parked and looked over, saying as she brushed a hand through my hair soothingly.

"Just keep believing that everything will be ok. I know it's scary, and being faced with the fact that you could be orphaned is absolutely terrifying. However, as long as you keep your head high, you can accomplish anything. There are resources at your disposal and that we can utilize together."

But she didn't understand. She didn't know what it was like to be faced with such a topic. However, I held my tongue and got out of the car.

"Thanks for the ride."

"Always. Call me if you need anything, (Y/n)."

I nodded and walked to the door, my fingers gently grazing the black impala. The sound of gravel crunching beneath tires signaled Ms. Stelar's departure, and I sighed, the tears falling slower than before. Deep within my chest, I could feel my heart breaking. I knew. I knew that my parents could be safe. They could be fine. However, another part of me knew that they very well could be dead right now. Clenching my fists, I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn't let myself fall into government hands should my parents really be dead.

Looking at the impala, I knew my decision was set in stone.

If my parents truly were gone, then I would pack everything that I could, take the impala, and leave this home. Staying here would be too much for me. How could I take care of such an expensive house? I didn't have a job, but I knew my way around the twists and turns of the engine of a car. Patting the hood, I whispered sadly.

"I guess it's just me and you now."

Sighing, I walked inside and looked around the home. The kitchen was large, sitting just a bit to the right, with an archway to the left leading to the living room. A staircase was in front of me, leading to my bedroom, the bathroom, the guest bedroom, and the master bedroom. Walking into the kitchen, I stood before the fridge, staring at the pictures on the metal. A drawing I had made in third grade of the family with red crayon, purple lettering spelling 'Ohana' above the scribbled figures.

A collage of me throughout the years, in order from baby to who I was now, was pinned to the metal fridge with a magnet, a picture of my father and I at the father-daughter dance that my elementary school had held. Biting my lip, I gently took down the memories and grabbed a gallon-value Ziploc bag. Putting the pictures in the bag, I sniffled. It hurt to see the memories and know that I couldn't make more.

I paused. I was giving up so easily. There was still the possibility of my parents being ok hanging in the air, but somewhere deep in my mind, I knew of the fate they had been faced with and ultimately met. There was no way they could have survived the attack, especially when it was right in the area where they were vacationing in. Grabbing whatever I could, I grabbed the keys to the impala and pocketed them. Running up to my room, I grabbed my bags and began to stuff my clothes and shoes in them.

There was no way that I could stay here. I couldn't live in a dead house. Grabbing my wallet, I shoved whatever money I had saved into the leather. Running to the bathroom, I bagged my necessary things and then hesitantly walked to my parents room. The smell of my father and my mother made me sniffle once more, and I cursed to myself. Grabbing my fathers backpack, I packed some of his clothes in, along with my mothers, and pocketed whatever money they had saved as well.

While packing some of their pictures, a glint caught my eye, and under the bed on my dad's side was a black box. I knew that inside of the box, there was a gun with a full magazine. Better safe than sorry, right? Grabbing it, I shoved that within my dad's backpack and quickly went downstairs. The day had become darker, dark storm clouds overhead, and I muttered to myself.

"How fitting."

It was such a dark and terrible day. Shoving the stuff into the trunk of the impala, I got inside and looked at the house. It was such a gloomy, melancholic day, and it never ceased to amaze me how happy days could be twisted into casualties so easily. The impala sputtered to life when I turned the key, and I pulled away, the home disappearing from within the rearview mirror.

The glass of lemonade was still on the table, still halfway consumed, never to be finished.

-TIMESKIP-

I had arrived in the outskirts of Chicago, the complete desolation from the city rattling my bones. Smoke and smog bellowed into the air and I sucked in a breath. Being here was wrong, but I didn't have any idea where else that I could go.

Slowly, I drove through the city, passing by a pink Ducati superbike. A sudden tingle ran down my spine and I glanced into the side mirror, watching the bike roll away with its black-suited driver. Shifting in my seat, I drove into a part of the city that hadn't been too affected by the carnage and pulled up to a garage that had a 'For Sale' sign in the window. Looking at the number, I called.

"Hello?"

"Hi, I'm calling about the garage that's for sale?"

"Ah, ya interested?"

"Well, I wouldn't be calling if I wasn't, sir."

We both chuckled and the man advised.

"I'll be coming there in a moment. Just stay put, alright?"

I hummed and he hung up. Setting my phone into the glove compartment, I watched as a 2003 red BMW pulled up, an old man climbing out. He was tall, skinny, and had grey and white stubble growing on his face. He wore a plaid shirt with dirty, ripped jeans, his white hair combed to the side. He seemed surprised to see me and asked, quirking an eyebrow up.

"Ya seem a little young to be buying."

"For my parents, actually."

He bought the lie and turned, pulling out a manila folder, pulling papers from it and sighed, looking out at the city as he handed the papers to me so I could sign them.

"If someone told me that aliens were real, I would have laughed at them. Today though…today makes history for Chicago and the world."

I nodded and replied back, solemn.

"Yeah. It was too sunny for this day."

He hummed and I handed him the signed papers, and all of the money I had. He mumbled.

"This ain't 3,500, girl."

"I know. I can pay the rest by the end of the month."

He just eyed me and crossed his arms, seeming to contemplate whether or not he should let me gather the rest of the money. After a solid minute, he replied.

"I'll give ya two months. It's gonna be hard finding a job to help your parents out, so I'll be gracious. You take care…and be careful."

I gave a sigh of relief and gushed.

"Thank you, thank you!"

He just called, turning away.

"If you need anything, just call me!"

I paused and asked, looking at my impala.

"Actually, do you have any spare tools that you don't need?"

-TIMESKIP-

The next day, with limited tools in the garage, I rubbed the back of my neck and sighed. I had all my stuff in a corner of the garage, aiming to turn that into my living space. Sure, it was going to be super small, but I was sure that I could get by with it. The only problem was bathing.

Where could I do that? The local YMCA? There wasn't really a YMCA anymore, so I had to rely on the basin that resided in the corner of the garage. Great. Grunting to myself, I sorted through the money my parents had and counted out at least 207 dollars. There wasn't much that I could buy with 207 dollars, but I could buy enough food to last me for at least the week, if I rationed.

Walking out into the cloudy day of Chicago, I patted the hood of the impala affectionately. This car had always been in my heart since I had been little. It held a special place, and I vowed to never let anything happen to this car for as long as I was alive.

A sudden rumble caught my attention and I looked up, seeing the pink Ducati superbike that had passed me yesterday. The same tingle ran down my spine and the black-suited driver pulled up beside me. I backed up a bit, uneasy, and the rider sat up, pulling off the helmet. She was beautiful.

Brown, flowing hair, with pale skin and a pink stripe down her lips. Her eyes were a strange shade of blue, seemingly glowing, and she looked at me as if I was a strange specimen made from science labs deep in the undergrounds of Earth. A blue Suzuki B-King 2008 came rolling up with a purple Augusta F4, both seemingly adorned with the same driver. Upon pulling off their helmets, I was startled.

Could triplets really look exactly the same?

The one with the pink stripe down her lips greeted me.

"Hello, there. I couldn't help but notice your car from yesterday. It's very nice. What is it?"

"I'm not selling, if that's what you're getting at."

The woman blinked in surprise and chuckled, shaking her head.

"No, I wasn't going to ask that. I was just going to ask…well…"

I quirked an eyebrow up at the woman and leaned against the hood, crossing my arms. Clutching the money in my hand, I asked.

"What do you want? As you can see, I'm on my way to furnish my…living space, and I don't have a lot of time for someone trying to buy my car that I am, by the way, not selling."

The woman sighed a bit and nodded.

"Right. I apologize. Can I have your name just in case you ever will?"

"You should put 'never' instead of 'ever', lady."

I got into my car, started it, and rolled my window down. Letting an arm out of the window, I advised.

"Oh, and if you ever try to buy a car from someone, don't try and ass-kiss. It's very unbecoming."

I gave her a finger gun and pulled away, huffing. Not even a full day and people are already trying to take my car. I gripped the steering wheel before relaxing, letting the music from within the car soothe me. There was smoke still bellowing from the city, and I became tense.

Any of these cars passing me by could be a transformer. Whether a Decepticon or an Autobot. I had to be careful. Looking out at the road before me, I saw a bunch of guys in military uniforms and stayed in line of the cars who were trying to get into and out of the city. A man in uniform with brown skin and brown eyes walked up to my car, his eyes looking my car up and down with a judging eye.

I rolled down my window again and he leaned down, startled that I was so young. Rolling my eyes, I looked at him and bit my lip. I asked him before he could say anything.

"Sir, I know it's strange for me to be so young, but I assure you that I have a valid license and am of age. I just need to get to a store so I can buy the things that I need to survive."

The man sighed and I looked at his tag. 'Epps' was stitched onto the name tag and I looked up at him, saying quietly.

"Sir, please. I just lost my parents. I need to get the things I need to survive and then I'll be right back out of Chicago to my garage."

The man said to me, his eyes sympathetic.

"I'm gonna be dumb and let you go get what you need. Are you sure that you want to go in there? There are plenty of other stores around, though they're gonna be a bitch to get to since they're far."

"I have to get tools and shit to start my business as soon as possible."

"Business?"

"Mechanic. It's the only way I'm gonna be able to raise money without the government wanting to snatch me up and put me in a foster home. 17 ain't exactly the age of an adult the last time I checked."

The man chuckled and replied after a pause.

"There's a grocery store in the outskirts of the city, and a hardware store in between. Just be careful. You never know where a Decepticon is."

I sarcastically said, giving him a look.

"Oh, thanks for the reassurance. I feel totally secure in my '67 impala."

He rubbed the back of his neck and gave a sheepish smile. Patting the hood of my car, he said.

"Go on ahead, kid."

"My name is (Y/n), not kid."

He grinned and I drove away, almost slamming on the brakes when I realized that I had no idea where these stores were. I decided to just drive around until I found one. As I drove, the devastation was much worse. Spanning into the suburbs of the city, fire and metal were everywhere. Remnants of the war were around every corner. Artillery shells crunched beneath the tires of my car and it was a sound that I hated to hear. Looking around, I spotted a grocery store and pulled in, people crowding into the store. I hoped, deep within my soul, that their shelves weren't emptied.

Grabbing the gun from within the glove box, I slipped it into my pants before covering it with my shirt and jacket, getting out of the impala. Shutting the door and locking it, I murmured quietly.

"I'll be right back, Baby."

Some things never changed.

Walking to the doorway, people were rushing out, and I couldn't help but feel worried. Anxiety crawled through my veins like a demon, its claws digging into the walls of my veins and heart. Fear was rearing its head, but I couldn't succumb. Not now. Walking in, I was quick to grab a basket, immediately shoving a gallon of water into the basket, bread, some fruits and vegetables, eggs, and toilet paper. Grabbing some chips as well, I walked to the cash register and set my stuff on the conveyor, the grocer just scanning as fast as they could.

"Your total is thirty-six dollars and fifteen cents."

Nodding, I handed the money over and took my things, speed walking outside to the impala. Getting in after unlocking the door, I started the car and sped away to the hardware store I had passed. Doing the same as before, I jumped out and ran inside, passing other people who seemed to be buying stuff for repairs. I walked around, grabbing a small bag of charcoal, a mini grill, and a mini fridge. Grabbing a cookie sheet to cook whatever I needed with, I walked to the register. I tried to be cheap with what I bought, but it was better than nothing. Ringing up my stuff, I listened to the lady say.

"Your total is 138 dollars and ninety-five cents."

I just handed her the money and grabbed my stuff, rushing out. So now I had at least thirty-two dollars left. That was enough to put into savings. Hopefully, I could get by with the tools I had whenever someone came in. Driving back to the area the soldiers were, the same man that came up to me as last time walked over to me and asked me.

"You got what you needed?"

"Yeah, I did. A mini fridge, mini grill, minimal food, but I'm sure I can get by if I ration it out. Thanks for letting me come into the city."

He just pursed his lips and asked.

"You said your name was (Y/n), right?"

I nodded and he handed me a piece of paper with his number on it.

"My name is Robert Epps. If you need anything, just give me a call and I'll try to help the best I can, alright?"

"I guess we all gotta look out for each other after yesterday."

He nodded and patted the hood, giving me the clear to leave. I drove away, glancing into my rearview mirror, watching as Epps watched me leave. I sighed as I pulled into the garage and sat there for a moment, staring at the number. Should I give him a call? Should I save the number? Grabbing my phone, I input his number in, biting my lips as I saw my fathers name above his. Should I call…just in case? I let a shaky breath out and called.

"Hello, you've reached Dean Winchester. Leave your name, number, and nightmare at the tone."

I sniffled and chuckled a bit, sighing lightly as his voice reached my ears. I knew I wouldn't be able to hear it ever again, but it was comforting to hear it nonetheless.

"Hi! You've reached Lisa Braeden. I'm not here right now, but you can leave your name and number and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks!"

Her voice was melodious. It was a comfort from within my heart. Even though I wouldn't be able to see them again, nor hear them speak ever again, it gave me a strange confidence to hear their voicemails. My eyes closed and I called my Uncle Sam.

"This is Sam. Leave a message."

I frowned. Usually, my Uncle Sam always picked up when I called. Though, maybe he was busy or something. Next, I tried my Uncle Castiel. However, the phone went to an automated voice, signaling that Cas's phone was dead or out of service. Sighing, I let my head fall back against the seat and closed my eyes. To say that I missed my family was an understatement. I yearned for them. My heart broke for them. But I had to stay strong and keep going. My father would have expected that of me.

Getting out, I grabbed the mini fridge and plugged it into the outlet, the white 2x3 fridge roaring to life. Grabbing my groceries, I put everything away and put the bags in the corner, saving them for the trash I would have to throw out. A familiar rumble caught my attention, and I growled. What did that damn lady want?

I walked outside and was surprised to see Epps, not the woman.

"Robert, what are you doing here?"

"I saw your car…is this where you're living?"

I looked down as the man got out of his car, his eyes wide as he looked into the garage. I murmured.

"I didn't have anywhere else to go. I don't have a home, if this doesn't count. I was planning on running a car wash and repair shop here, and whatever money I make would go into fixing this place up into a home for me."

Robert looked at me and urged.

"You can't live like that, (Y/n)."

"I already am."

I crossed my arms and looked away. He asked.

"Is there any way that I can help you out?"

I was quiet before my eyes strayed to his car, and I looked at him.

"Help me out by making me a sign, and I'll give your car a free wash."

Robert laughed and shook his head.

"I'm sure you need soap and all that stuff, right?"

Shit. I ducked my head and he urged.

"Just stay here and I'll get a couple of my friends, and we'll help you with your issue. You don't have to be alone in this, you know."

"I'm not. I got my car with me. Who is, by the way, not a transformer."

He seemed relieved and smiled, nodding. I looked at him and advised.

"You should probably get going before I charge you for that free car wash."

He laughed and nodded, driving off. I smiled lightly. It was nice to have made a somewhat friend here already and get business so early. Though, I hated having to ask for such things. I could have bought the soap from the store, but alas, it had slipped my mind. Being concerned about living made me forget essential things needed to keep up a good business. I got up off of the side of the impala and glanced up at the sky, the dark clouds from the smoke still bellowing into the darkened sky. It was a gloomy day, and it made me sigh.

Looking down at my feet, I kicked at a pebble and watched it run away from me. A rumble caught my attention as once before, and I turned to see Epps with a couple other cars, all seeming to be race cars, decked out in armor and guns. My eyes widened and I clenched my jaw. Epps got out from his vehicle, and at least four other men got out. Epps introduced.

"These are a couple of my friends. We're gonna build your sign in return of you washing our cars. Deal?"

I looked at Epps and his outstretched hand, wondering if I should take the deal. Should I accept? Sure, they would build my sign for me…but could I take such a generous act of kindness and return nothing but a car wash for their gift? I sighed and shook his hand, muttering.

"Don't make me regret this, Epps."

"You can count on me!"

"Sure, sure. I'll have to see it to believe it."

-TIME SKIP TO ONE MONTH LATER-

The sign was big. It stood out when in the sun and glowed in the nighttime. My shop had been furnished with the money that I made, a space surrounded by plywood, painted white on the outside, and a nice (color) on the inside. There, I had a futon, two boxes overflowing with folded clothes, and a little nightstand. Epps and his friends had built me a private shower in the back, and I was grateful. The huge sink was starting to get on my nerves.

The shop was running good, at least to my standards. Customers came in almost everyday, whether for a repair, car wash, or a regular checkup. Epps often stayed close to my home, driving around the block and stopping in for anything, really. I had called him a stalker, but he called himself a guardian.

Honestly, I had no idea what to consider Robert as. After he had built the sign with his friends, he had become a regular customer. A friend. Maybe even a family member, if I reached hard enough. But in the often moments I had with him, I found myself unable to fully trust him.

There was something about him; something that hung in the air around him. It was like Epps was holding a secret inside his heart that he didn't want to tell me…or maybe couldn't tell me. But I couldn't condemn him for it. We all had secrets, right? I could only hope for the moment that Epps decided to tell me what it was he was hiding.

Often, the night would evade me, and I would be unable to sleep. My mind always fluttered back to my family. A hope within me that they were still alive and ok seemed to always poke around in my brain. I couldn't figure out why Sam wouldn't answer his phone, but I had a feeling to why Cas hadn't. Cas was, no offense to him, an idiot when it came to technology, especially phones. So, I could only hope that Cas had figured out how to charge his damn phone. He was an ancient being in a 35-year-old body; having no idea what a phone even is.

When the worry got too much for me, I started to run. Running seemed to ease my mind, as every step slowly took me around the block. Every step I took was a step to peace…if only for a little while. This new life of mine, this nomad life I seemed to be slowly edging into, was a step into the rest of my days. I was saddened deeply by the way I had to live, but in a way, I was glad that I was learning this the hard way. Was there even an easy way to learn how to live by yourself at such an young age? I didn't know.

In the current time, I was underneath a customers car, her frilly voice ringing throughout the garage. Her car, an expensive 2016 BMW 4 Series convertible, needed a oil change bad and the result of not getting an oil change in a long while had ruined her engine. Nevertheless, no transmission fluid, so she had essentially burnt the transmission. So, in result, I had to fix the transmission while her bubbly, stuck-up mood overlapped the rock music in the background.

"-And like, I just had to get that bag, you know? Like, there was nothing else there that could even compare to it. And this bitch, oh my god, tried to get it before I could. Like, seriously? Are you really gonna try to take my purse from me? So I said to her-"

I rolled my eyes. This woman just never shut up, did she? I felt bad for her family members and friends. Though, they were probably the same, if not worse. I focused my mind on the transmission, tightening the new one in place, grunting as her voice continued to carry on about some designer bag and her hatred for 'poor, insolent bitches'. I rolled out from under the car, my irritation flaring to a new level, and I slammed my hand onto the end on her car, catching her attention. Putting on a fake smile, I gritted out.

"Your transmission is fixed up, so the only thing I need to do now is put some oil and transmission fluid in her and she should be ready to go. Is that all you needed?"

The woman flicked her brown hair and popped a bubble of her bubblegum, blue eyes looking up in thought.

"Hmm, I could go for a carwash too. My car hasn't had one in a week."

A car wash…every week. I felt myself mentally facepalm and a rumble caught my attention. Epps rolled up and I turned to him, grinning genuinely. He got out and I called out.

"What the hell do you want now?"

"Hey, come on. Where's the love?"

I chuckled and popped the hood of the woman's car, grabbing a carton of oil. I instructed.

"Just roll her in right beside me, Epps, and I'll get to you in a moment, alright?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

I chuckled once more and poured the oil into the tank, humming to myself. The girl had quieted down, eyeing Epps, and I couldn't help but internally grimace. This girl was just all over the place, wasn't she? I finished the oil change and got the hose, filling a bucket with the soap and water. Epps said.

"How many customers have you had today?"

"About three. A man with a pickup truck, needing a regular check-up; another who wanted a carwash, and this lady here."

She immediately perked up and batted her eyes, saying in a disgustingly seductive voice.

"My car has been giving me trouble. He's a beauty, isn't he? Expensive..."

I snorted at her horrible attempt to flirt and covered myself with a cough, washing her car. Me and Epps shared a look and he replied, obviously not interested.

"Seems like it. What kind of trouble?"

Before she could answer, I replied.

"Transmission was absolute shit, and the engine was on its way. This babe hadn't had an oil change in a long while, and was running on no transmission fluid, so the transmission was ruined. I'm surprised it didn't blow up completely at all. Moreover, hadn't had a carwash in over a week."

The woman shot me a look that I ignored and Epps quirked an eyebrow.

"Over a week without a carwash?"

"I like to take care of my car."

She bit her lip and I rolled my eyes. Sure. That's why your transmission is absolute shit. Er, was. After washing the car, and washing the soap off, I went over to the register one of Epp's friends had found for me and rang up the price.

"Your transmission had to be totally replaced, and a new oil change was needed, so that's a total of 185 dollars. 135 for the transmission replacement, 40 dollars for the engine repair, and 10 dollars for the oil change. Since you got a carwash done as well, that's gonna bump the price to 195 dollars, since carwashes are also ten dollars."

She grinned and exclaimed in her frilly voice.

"Wow, that isn't expensive at, like, all! Like, I totally thought it was gonna be like...almost 1000. That isn't bad at all. If the car sounds good, I'll totally recommend you!"

I smiled softly and replied, taking the money she handed to me.

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

She smiled and ran over to her car, getting in. She started it, and from her expression, she was satisfied. Pulling out, she sped off and Epps walked over. He watched her and I looked at him as he looked at me. We both cracked up as I imitated her.

"'Like, oh my god, how could anybody get that designer purse! And I just love cars. I wash mine every week!'"

He snorted and leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

"Seems like you've got yourself on your feet."

I sighed a bit, looking around the garage. If I was honest, it really did look like a regular mechanics shop. I was proud with how much I was able to do with the little I had. I looked over at Epps and replied honestly.

"I couldn't do it without you and your friends. You guys are the ones I should thank for getting me this far."

Epps chuckled and replied, looking around the shop himself.

"Maybe in the beginning, but this-"

He gestured to the shop.

"-This is all you, girl."

I smiled and looked down, rubbing my hands together. Looking to the side into the mirror on the wall, I spied oil and grease stains on my grey tank top, face, and my jeans. I rubbed the side of my face and glanced over to the car Epps had driven in, sitting right beside my Impala.

"So, what did you need?"

"Nothing, actually. I just wanted to check up on you."

"Oh, thanks. If you need a report, I'll be glad to write 'I'm not dead yet, so that's good' on it."

Epps laughed loudly and shook his head. He then asked me.

"Hey, a couple of my buddies and I are actually going to have a BBQ later today. I think you'd enjoy it. You should come along and hang out; meet some people. You've been hanging out in here too long. Any longer and you might turn into a transformer."

"What do you mean? Oil practically runs through my veins anyway."

He snorted and I chuckled. Epps pushed himself off the wall and pointed at me as he walked to his vehicle.

"You better be there. I sent the address to your phone before I got here. If you're not there, I'm coming to get you. Got it?'

I rolled my eyes and muttered, shaking my head.

"So demanding. And you wonder why women have such a strong dislike for men."

He groaned and I smirked at him.

"Just be there, got it?"

"Yeah, yeah. Get out of here already before I charge you for trespassing."

He snorted and drove off. I sighed and grabbed my phone, not surprised to see the text Epps had sent me. It started at six o'clock, so I had enough time to close up, take a shower, and change. I sighed and closed up, locking the door and I closed the garage door. Going to the back, I walked to my room and grabbed some clothes, setting on some music. As classic rock filled the air, I felt a pang of nostalgia run through me. Getting into the shower, the hot water dropping in low pressure spurts, I was taken on a journey through time.

My father had loved the impala with all his heart. Probably more than he loved my mom. The impala had belonged to my grandfather before Grandpa had given it to Dean. After Uncle Sam left the family to go to Stanford, my Grandpa told me that he thought Dean should have it. After all, he was the oldest of the two. It was only right that Dean inherited the car. After Dad got the car, he had ran around the country for a while, road trip after road trip, doing god knows what. I remember my father telling me that he used to be a womanizer. Sleeping with women as if they were nothing. Because in the end, that's all they were to him. Just another body in the sheets.

After he met my mom, Lisa, he gave up everything for her.

His drinking turned into just a bottle a day, his one night stands turned into none, and his maturity spiked through the roof (according to him, but we all knew Dad was secretly a man-child). Lisa was his whole world. And then I came along, and he had another reason to stay with her. Dad had told me once that he thought of leaving all the time. He missed the long road trips, the San Francisco sunset, the Texan sunflower fields, the Kansas grasslands. I remember sitting with him in the impala, just driving to nowhere, talking about anything and everything.

Dad loved to blare his classic rock and sing to the heavens with me, driving down the empty route of 66. Often, we traveled together on long road trips together; his wayward heart unable to stay away from the blacktop.

In the back of my mind, I knew that I was the only reason he chose to stay with Mom. Mom wasn't constricting, but she seemed to want to know where he was all the time at all times. In my five year old brain, I didn't understand nor care as to why. I just wanted to sing classic rock at the top of my lungs with the windows down with my dad.

I specifically remember when my dad and I were driving along the interstate back home, the music low, and my dad's hand in mine.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"How come you never take mommy with us?"

He had looked over to me, a complex gleam in his green eyes. He looked back, the glow of the radio illuminating his face just slightly. It took him a moment to reply, and he murmured.

"Because this wouldn't be as special with her as it is with you."

"Why is that?"

He chuckled and ruffled my hair before reconnecting our hands, his much bigger than mine. He murmured in a voice that signaled the end of the conversation.

"Because, baby-girl."

To this day, I can still remember the saddened whisper he had muttered under his breath when he thought I couldn't hear him over the hum of the impala and the beat of the music.

"Because your momma doesn't sing."

Chapter Two

[juicycoutureheaux]

When It's Over Chapter 19: Retreating

Anna was glancing out the plane window, Chris’ head resting on her shoulder. She envied his ability to sleep anywhere.

Anna could never sleep on planes or anywhere that wasn’t her bed for that matter. It didn’t make her a great soldier.

They were an hour away from the small local airport of her hometown, Savannah. She never thought she would miss the marshy, flora and fauna rich scenery of her hometown; New York City was devoid of the natural charm that Savannah provided.

Anna was brought out of her thoughts when the intercom of the plane’s cabin crackled to life informing the passengers of their decline to the airport. Anna gently woke up her boyfriend by gently stroking his hair.

“What?” He said sleepily.

Anna giggled. “We’re landing soon honey, you can sleep in the hotel room.”

Chris still had his eyes closed as he let out a sigh and rubbed his face. “How hot is it going to be?”

“It should be about 80 degrees, not too hot.”

Chris groaned. “80 degrees? Jesus.”

Anna laughed, Chris was typical for someone from the northeast to her. “80 degrees is nothing,” she nuzzled into him. “Just wait till it’s 97 degrees outside but feels like 105*.”

Chris groaned, “Well I’m glad we came during the cool Month of October.” He said sardonically.

The pair made their way through the airport and Chris was already polarized by the amount of people smiling to one another and saying “hey”. He was jaded by the social isolation of New York.

“Does everyone know each other down here?” Chris asked Anna as he grabbed their luggage from the return.

“Nope,” she said simply as they made their way to where the rental cars were located, Anna greeted more people she didn’t know.

Chris just shook his head. He was in for a culture shock.

Chris insisted that they get their own vehicle while they were down here. He didn’t want to rely on Anna’s family, as she didn’t paint them as the most responsible or reliable people.

“A mustang?” Anna raised her eyebrows at the choice of car they would be driving around her hometown.

“Yup,” he said, lifting their suitcases into the trunk. “Not too flashy, but enough to impress your family.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to impress them, they’re just a bunch of rednecks.”

“Exactly why I picked the mustang and not the BMW.” Chris teased.

Anna playfully punched him. “You’re a dick.” She laughed.

Chris held the door open for her and they made their way to their accommodations.

Their home for the week was a historic mansion renovated to be a luxury hotel; when Anna was a little girl she would have never imagined staying here.

She showed her excitement by taking everything in the lobby as Chris checked them in.

Chris admired his girlfriend, she had been through so much, but was still impressed by life’s small pleasures. He felt a foreign feeling of warmth spread through his chest watching her examine the intricate decor and talking to other guests.

He approached her when she finished her conversation with a businessman from Chicago and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Let’s go up to the room and get showered, babe, I want to take you out to dinner. I scored reservations at the restaurant here.” He said proud of himself.

Anna looked back at him excited. “Chris really?” She grabbed his hands. “You treat me too well.”

Chris smiled. “Anything for you.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chris spared no expense for the room. It was a suite with a living room and a king size bed. Chris went to shower off after the flight while Anna unpacked the luggage.

Chris came out with a towel wrapped around his waist, everytime Anna saw Chris in a state of undress she always felt her heart flutter.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Chris winked at her, which caused her to blush.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, if we didn’t have reservations to get to, I’d suggest having you as the appetizer, but we’re short on time.”

Anna smiled. “Well, I can be dessert then.”

Chris smiled deviously. “I’ll hold you to that Princess.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Anna wore a Lilly Pulitzer shift dress with a mandarin collar. She loved how it was short enough to show off her legs, but wasn’t indecent. She knew it was a great choice because Chris couldn’t keep his hands off of her.

“You look radiant Anna, you look beautiful all the time but, wow.”

Chris’ honesty made her heart flutter, she felt like she did with her first husband.

“I guess this southern air is good for me.” She said, fanning herself with the menu. She hadn’t realized how long it had been since she had been in this kind of heat.

“I guess so.” Chris placed his hand on her thigh.

The waiter came over to them and immediately recognized Anna. “Hey, didn’t you used to perform at Chuck’s club? I wondered where you went!” He said enthusiastically.

“I did actually, but that was a while ago,” Anna tried to sound casual.

“You were really good! Are you still doing it professionally?”

She smiled sadly. “No I don’t perform anymore, I just appreciate the art offstage now.”

The waiter frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He took their drink orders and left.

“You didn’t seem too excited when he mentioned he knew you, you should be proud.” Chris said, taking her dainty hand into his.

“It’s kind of complicated, especially after the Travis situation,” she spoke quietly, avoiding his gaze.

Chris felt genuinely sad; usually he would feel anger in this situation, but he hadn’t realized how much the Travis situation had crushed her spirit.

Chris gently squeezed her hand assuringly, trying to offer whatever comfort he could.

They ate their meal in peace, Anna laying out the details of how they were going to spend their week.

“We’re going to go fishing on Tuesday, then we’re gonna cook out at dad’s house. He wanted to see your skills on the boat.”

The skin around Chris’ eyes crinkled as he smiled, “See my skills? So now it’s a competition.”

“I’ve been bragging about you, he’s just curious.”

“Curious? Sounds like he’s sizing me up.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “My brother is a lawyer, he hates fishing, my dad is probably excited to bond with another man.”

Chris looked at Anna with surprise. “You have a brother?”

Anna took a deep breath, “Half brother, he’s much older than I am.”

“I take it you aren’t close.”

Anna swirled the liquid in her martini glass before taking a large gulp. “He has different…values than I do.”

Chris grimaced. “What do you mean?”

“He hated that I did burlesque at a gay bar, hated that I moved in with my first boyfriend right away and was PISSED when I joined the BSAA.”

“He has a lot of opinions about you, what about Brigid?”

Anna laughed humorlessly, “Brigid doesn’t even talk to him. They have disowned each other.”

“Damn.”

Anna just nodded silently.

Chris quickly changed the subject. “So are you going to show me your old stomping grounds? The night is young and you look beautiful.”

Anna smiled a toothy grin. “I guess I should. The club should still have happy hour by the time we get down there.”

They left the restaurant to walk to the street where all the bars and clubs were located.

Anna hadn’t realized how much the nightlife scene had grown since she was here last.

Immediately outside knocking boots Anna was recognized by an old friend, Julie.

“Oh my god is that who I think it is? What the hell are you doing down here? I thought you moved to the big city!” Julie flicked her cigarette onto the sidewalk and nearly tackled Anna. She was a makeup artist during the day and a bartender at night; in Savannah, it was common for creative people to have multiple jobs for socialization.

“Julie it’s so good to see you, your makeup looks amazing as always.” Anna hugged the woman tightly.

Julie flipped her platinum blonde hair, she had black stiletto nails and blush up to her temples. Chris thought she looked like a witch in a good way.

Anna turned to Chris, “This is my boyfriend, Chris Redfield.”

Julie’s jaw dropped. “Boyfriend? You’re dating again? You and Michael were so perfect for each other, I didn’t think…” she then smiled and took her hands in hers. “Anna, you have no idea how happy I am for you.” Julie turned to Chris. “Take care of her okay? She’s very dear to a lot of people.”

Chris smiled and shook Julie’s hand. “I promise,”

Julie returned Chris’ sincere smile and the group went down to the basement bar. Julie was in the process of opening it up and called down other staff members that knew Anna to catch up.

Anna was cozied up at the bar with her old friends, while Chris was talking to the doorman.

“Chris is a complete 180 from Michael.” an older queen said. “He was a total finance bro,” the queen looked at Anna. “God rest his soul, he was a sweet man, he gave you whatever you wanted. I remember when he surprised you with annual passes to DisneyWorld because you mentioned you wanted to go. He was too good to be true.”

Anna smiled sadly. “I know it, he doted on me completely. I remember when we first started dating, anytime we went into a store and I said something was pretty, it’s like he would wag his tail. He’d always ask, *Do you want it Anna? I’ll get it for you!” She reminisced fondly.

She quickly turned to look at Chris, she didn’t want him to feel like he was second best.

Chris kissed Anna’s temple gently. “I wish I could take you to DisneyWorld every month like Michael did.”

Anna hugged him. “We were really young when we did that, plus we only lived four hours away. We didn’t have the responsibilities that you and I share now.” Anna sighed.

Chris still felt guilty. She deserved the world.

“Chris treats me so well, he insists he pays all the bills even though I have a pretty good job.”

Chris smiled, “You need your money to stay beautiful and happy for me babe.” he kissed behind her ear causing Anna to blush.

“Girl, how’d you win the man lottery twice?” Crystal said. “I bet he gives amazing massages, you think he’d give me one?”

Amerie chimed in, “Girl you are so thirsty that man don’t want nothing with you. That's Anna’s man you are talking about.” She said taking her long nails to flip her long hair around to accentuate her words.

The familiar banter made Anna laugh. Chris excused himself, squeezing Anna’s hip.

Crystal just rolled her eyes, “I’m just saying he cute or whatever Amerie,” She looked at Anna. “Listen girl, we seen you on the news. That psychopath who took your pictures? Girl I know your man TORE his ass up. You’re a local celebrity down here, the bar has never been busier, reporters are shady but they do get the public interested, and it’s good for business.”

Anna’s face paled. She hadn’t realized people would be affected down here because of what happened. It made sense it was a major national scandal.

Amerie saw the way Anna’s face paled and put her arm around her shoulder.

“Don’t worry girl, we got your back, we ain’t said shit to those reporters about you girl. We told them to get the hell up outta here or I woulda bust them upside the head and that’s the truth.”

Anna hadn’t felt true sisterhood like this in a while. “I love y’all.”

“We got you boo!” Crystal accentuated by *booping* Anna’s nose, making Anna cackle in response.

“Crystal girl, did you smoke without me?” Amerie whipped her long black hair around to face the other queen.

“I’m sorry, it helps with my creative process. I couldn’t wait.”

Anna missed the bar life, she used to partake in “smoking” before shows, they would bond over sharing a blunt in the alley and dancing till morning.

She started to mourn her old life, she wouldn’t be caught dead smoking in an alley, hell, with reporters sniffing around here she should have probably been more careful with showing her face around here. She wondered if Chris would judge her for partaking in those activities; hell, he did start off as a police officer before the Mansion Incident that changed his life.

Anna was snapped out of her thoughts when she felt the warm hands of her boyfriend wrap around her waist. She didn’t realize the basement bar was filling up.

“Looks like your man is back.” Crystal waved flirtatiously at Chris. “You better stay a while and watch the show, I’d hate for you to miss my performance.”

Chris wrapped his arm around Anna. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world, would we Anna?” He smiled at her.

Anna smiled, but still felt uncomfortable; she felt self conscious, like she shouldn’t be caught dead here. Were there still people trying to dig things up on her? What about Chris’ reputation?

Amerie picked on Anna’s hesitance and grabbed her drinks from Julie’s bar. “I’m going to need you to keep drinking and coming back drunk and ready to dance.”

Anna smiled. “Alright.”

Chris held Anna by the waist as they made their way up the stairs to the cabaret stage. The show was incredible, and Anna even saw Chris smile at the performances.

Anna stayed a little while to dance with her friends, but she couldn’t get into it.

As the duo walked out of the club, instead of being inspired by the performances, she felt melancholy. She kissed her friends goodbye before promising she’d visit one last time before leaving for New York.

Anna held on to Chris’ arm gently and was silent on the walk back to the hotel, Chris thought this was strange; usually Anna would chirp happily after an event like this.

He wondered what was on her mind.

“What’s up? You haven’t said anything since we left.” He gently grabbed her waist and pulled her close.

Anna thought pensively. “I’m just thinking how much my life has changed…again.” She didn’t look him in the eye, only kept her brown eyes glued to the sidewalk.

Chris slowed them down and gently lifted her chin to look at him and caressed her jawline. Her eyes seemed tired and dull, which concerned Chris.

He pulled her in for a kiss. Sometimes situations didn’t need words to fix, just affection.

-////////////———-/-//://///:;:

Arriving back to the hotel room, Anna quickly went to shower off and joined Chris on the bed.

Chris was on his laptop checking work emails and checking in with the team.

Anna would usually just put her hand on Chris when he would finish up work in bed, or even intertwine her legs with his.

Tonight, she crawled in the crisp hotel linens and turned her back to him. Chris noticed this and closed the laptop. He wrapped his arms around her and began to kiss her neck and face.

Anna giggled as he playfully kissed her.

He turned her to face him. “Anna, what’s wrong? You’re not yourself.”

Anna just lowered her eyes and laid her head on her hands.

“I was informed that the press was coming to the club to ask questions about me.”

Chris raised his eyebrows. “To the little club we just visited? They came to ask questions at that place?”

Anna slowly nodded. “I don’t know why, I don’t know why they're so desperate for news they would even worry about someone like me. I’m nobody.”

Chris sighed. “You’re not nobody.” He rubbed her back gently. “You’re a young woman who is attractive, smart, and not afraid to speak out. You were involved in something incredibly fucked up, people obsess over these kinds of things in our industry.”

“They didn’t have to literally come to my hometown for dirt. What if they ran into someone who hated me? Or someone who didn’t give a fuck about me like Jordie.”

Chris cringed at the girl’s name. “Anna, you can’t keep worrying about things you can’t control, it’s going to make you sick.”

She just turned the other way again. “You’re right, it’s just a hard pill for me to swallow, that's all.”

Chris held her again and nuzzled into her neck. He wasn’t great with words, but he knew sometimes Anna appreciated the silent gestures.

Anna gently backed her bottom into Chris, hinting at what she wanted.

Chris was more than happy to give his girlfriend what she wanted, he gently pulled up her robe, revealing her bare skin.

Chris gently grabbed her hips and kissed down her back. Anna lifted her knees much to Chris’ delight.

“Someone’s excited.” Chris grabbed her hips roughly, massaging her sides.

“I just need you to fuck me until I can’t think.”

Chris was surprised at her words. What happened to his sweet Anna? In the same breath, who was he to deny his girlfriend what she wanted?

“Say no more.” He growled.

He positioned Anna so she was sitting impaled on his cock and his hand around her throat.

Each thrust hit a new depth inside her causing her to squirm and whimper. He made sure to bite her shoulders and her earlobe, careful to not leave visible marks on her neck.

“I want you to beg for it sweetheart.” He kissed her cheek roughly.

“Please Chris…”

“Please what?” His smirk is evident in his question.

“Please cum in me.”

Something primal activated in him, causing him to lay her on her belly and grabbing her hair in the process. He knew he might be causing her some discomfort, at this point he didn’t care, he was going to give her what she asked for.

Chris pushed himself uncomfortably far into Anna, causing her to whine and bite the pillow. He kept himself deep inside of her as his seed coated her walls.

He gently twisted her dark chestnut hair off her back and kissed the nape of her neck gently.

He gently turned her over and held her close. “I’ve got you sweetheart.” He assured her as he kissed her forehead.

Anna laid her head on his chest tracing the scars on his rough skin.

They just stayed in silence as Chris continued to stroke her soft hair, until they both fell asleep.

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

ttwt episode 4

“Last time, on Total Takes World Tour: Our pilot accidentally took a wrong turn and landed us in the vast ice sheet of Greenland, home of glaciers galore! After building their very own sleds, the three teams pushed it to the finish line, but only the Mojos won the challenge. Team Yaoi took their first fall and sent home the unlucky Joner, leaving a team full of enemies with nothing holding them together. Will someone finally snap and commit a crime? Will I ever get another hot chocolate refill? Find out now, on Total Takes: World Tour!”

“Mm, now that’s more like it,” Patrick yawns, lying face-down on the first class massage table while an attendant works on his back. “I deserve this.”

“For doing what, exactly?” Michela asks. 

Patrick lifts his head from the seat. “This team would be nothing without me,”

She rolls her eyes and sits back in her plush seat. Albert gives her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. 

---

Back in economy, Max balances his face in his palm and hunches over himself, blinking slowly. He looks exhausted, with heavy dark circles under his eyes. Beside him, Bonnie stretches and yawns, looking over their shoulder. 

“Woah, dude. Did you catch the plague?”

“I was up all night. I couldn’t sleep thinking about those two chumming it up in first class together,” he mumbles. 

Bonnie sighs. “Max, you need to get a grip. Do you trust Michela?”

“Of course I do,”

“Then you shouldn’t be losing sleep over it,”

Max frowns at her. “Okay, so, say, if a super cool, famous, good looking and much taller guy started flirting with Caesar, you’d just be cool with that?”

Bonnie hesitates. “It’s not… like that, with Caesar,”

“Really? So you wouldn’t be pissed off if he went out with someone else?”

“I mean… I guess, but, for different reasons,” 

Max rolls his eyes and goes back to blankly staring out the window. 

---

BONNIE: “Okay, since when did everyone and their pet hamsters decide they have any right to make decisions about my relationships? No one even bothered with me and Caesar until that stupid aftermath thing!”

---

“For the record, I think you and Caesar are so sweet,” Staci says, clapping her hands together. “You’re literally perfect for each other! How do you do it?”

Bonnie blinks. “Um… do what?”

“I mean, you guys are total opposites- how does it work? What makes it stick?”

“I don’t know- and we’re not total opposites,” Bonnie protests. “We have a lot in common.”

“SO cute,” Staci giggles. “I hope my future relationship is just like that!”

“Can we stop talking about this?” Phillip groans. “You liberals and your woke labelless relationships…”

Staci shrugs and turns back to Kelly, much to Bonnie’s relief.

---

BONNIE: “You know it’s bad when I’m agreeing with that guy,”

---

“Attention, campers! You better buckle up and hold on tight, cause we’re about to enter the Windy City!” Chris’ voice blasts over the intercom, feedback squealing. 

“The what?” Ass asks, but before anyone can answer, the plane begins shaking violently. 

The teens scream and hold onto each other for dear life as the cabin trembles once again, then smooths out as the plane descends. 

Courtney huffs. “You know, I’m starting to think they’re just doing that for fun,”

---

“Welcome to Chicago, Illinois!” Chris says, standing on the tarmac as the contestants file out of the plane. “Home of deep dish pizza and the Sears Tower, this city is known for being a top tourist destination- for everyone but you.” he chuckles. 

The teams look between each other nervously as Chris leads them to a boat on the banks of the Chicago River. 

"OMG, this is so my challenge. My dad is totally from Chicago," Staci says.

"Ooh, we're so winning!" Kelly says. The two squeal, and Max's eye twitches.

Chris smiles, stopping them in front of the water. “Your first stop- Riverwalk! This boat will take you to one end of the four-district public space, and from there you’ll make your way to Lake Michigan for your next challenge!”  

“This seems too easy. What’s the catch?” Julia asks. 

“Excellent point, Julia!” Chris beams. “In the New York episode of the original world tour, our contestants took baby strollers- and, as a fan of the classics, I think it’s only fair you kids do the same. But this time, one of you will get to push the stroller, while everyone else piles in.” 

The teams groan and board the boat. 

---

“This is the place. Okay, so who’s pushing?” Courtney asks. No one volunteers. “Come on, guys, we actually need to stick together to do this. We almost got Joner killed because we couldn’t work together!”

“So?” Mal asks, eyes trained on her phone. 

Courtney glares and storms over to her, grabbing her phone and throwing it in the river. Mal screams bloody murder. “MY CUSTOM COMMISSIONS WERE ON THERE! DO YOU KNOW HOW EXPENSIVE THOSE ARE?!”

“Don’t know, don’t care. Now PUSH!”

None of the other teams are doing much better. 

“Sometimes, I wish Chris would assign these things,” Michela sighs. “Okay, who’s pushing?”

“You did a fine job being our dog last time,” Patrick shrugs. Michela glares. 

---

MICHELA: “You know, I am starting to get really fed up with that guy,”

---

“Okay, princess. I’ll push again. But if we lose, you’re my first vote,” she points directly in his face. He rolls his eyes. 

“Oh, please. Like anyone would choose you over me. They love me!”

Austin and Sha-Mod both cautiously shake their heads. Albert shivers. 

Nearby, Team Friendship sets off with Phillip pushing- though he’s not exactly doing a very good job at it. It’s like he’s trying to move a boulder up a hill. 

“You said you lift weights,” Bonnie grumbles. 

“I said sometimes!” Phillip says. “I just started! Besides, this is good for my gains.”

Max palms his forehead and Bonnie sighs. 

“Does anyone have any idea how long this thing is?” Mal asks, gently pushing the carriage along. “I’m boooooored.”

“Oh my God, you’re like a toddler!” Ass snaps.

Courtney smiles and pulls a set of keys out of their pocket, dangling them in front of Mal. Her eyes light up and she starts moving forward faster. “Oooh…”

Ass chuckles. “Nice one,” 

They and Courtney make fleeting eye contact and then quickly look away. 

“See? I told you we’d do well,” Patrick says as Michela outpaces Mal by a mile. 

“Oh, please. You guys weigh nothing,” she says. “It’s like I’m pushing a cart full of groceries.”

Julia watches Team Mojo pass them and shouts to the back of the carriage. “Can you jingle those things any faster?”

“Oh, relax,” Ass says. “Team Friendship is Magic is never gonna catch up to us.”

---

Sure enough, the group has only moved about a foot from the start line. Phillip is crying and panting like his life depends on it, trying to push the carriage with his entire body weight while Team Friendship is looking less than enthused. 

“Okay, I’ve had about enough,” Bonnie sighs, getting up. “Let me.”

“Uh-uh-uh!” Chris appears out of nowhere. “No tradesies, no takesy-backsies!”

They groan and sit back down, jostling the cart. Phillip cries in anguish. 

---

Team Mojo screeches to a halt at the mouth of the Lake, Michela panting heavily. Team Yaoi isn’t far behind, pulling up just as the former unloads and runs to the mouth of the lake, where Chris is waiting. 

“One, two… looks like we’re missing a team!” Chris chuckles. “Oh well! Welcome to the next part of your challenge. Chicago is known for many things- architecture, Irish-American pride, but most of all- meat-packing! That’s right, we’re standing in the American center of butchering, packing, and unions! That is, until abouuuut the 1920s.” he chuckles. “Your next challenge is focused around one of the many abandoned factories, where we’ve set up a replica of a classic meatpacking block.”

Albert goes pale. “Um… guys, I don’t think I can do this. I’m vegan,”

“Oh, please. Who’s afraid of getting a little bloody?” Patrick chuckles. 

Behind the Mojos, Team Friendship finally arrives, Phillip looking like he was wrung out and left to dry in the sun. He collapses as the teens begin unboarding, and Staci picks him up and slings him over their shoulder like he’s made of paper. 

“See you all in the former meatpacking district!” Chris shouts, setting off. 

--- 

“Guys,” Albert shakes nervously. “I can’t do this. I’ll be sick.”

“Luckily for you, there were no government regulations about what goes into industrial meat packing back in the day,” Chris chuckles. “Vomit, metal, fingers… Those machines weren’t FDA approved, after all!”

The teens look between each other nervously. 

“Your job is to pack as much meat as possible- when the timer runs out, you’ll embark on your final leg of the race to Cloud Gate,”

“You mean the Bean?” Staci asks. 

“No,” Chris glares. “It’s called Cloud Gate.”

Max crosses his arms with a smirk. “He means the Bean,”

Chris grumbles to himself and storms off as the sound of loud metal grating forces everyone’s attention to the conveyor belts and large machines surrounding them. From behind a sectioned-off room, the conveyor belt begins carrying pink lumps of mush. 

Albert is a sickly shade of green. “I can’t do this,”

“Hey, you got this,” Michela puts a hand on his shoulder. “Just pretend it’s… pink tofu.”

He takes a deep breath, then smiles and nods. From across the room, Max grits his teeth at the interaction. Bonnie rolls their eyes. 

“Does anyone have any idea how to do this?” Mal asks, sitting at a tinning machine near the end of their line. 

“You’ll figure it out. And if you don't, what’s a lost finger to you? You can still type with nine,” Ass says. 

Courtney giggles and turns back to organizing the tin cans. 

The faint sound of a ringing bell catches everyone’s attention. “Oh, brother,” Bonnie murmurs. 

“Song time, my industrial stars!” Chris’ voice blares from the observation room above. “Singing makes the work go by faster!”

Mal rolls her eyes. “What’s there not to love about The Windy City?”

Courtney joins in, and the song continues down the conveyor line. “The trains are colorful, the lines are pretty!”

“The crime is high, the river’s dyed!” Ass sings along. 

All three jump in. “What’s not to love about Chicago?”

“The lights are brighter, the fun is funner!” Sha-Mod sings. “The Italians are beefier, the bums are bummer!”

Austin skips along, shoving pink slop into a can. “The violence and crime make every alley shine!”

Albert picks up the verse shakily. “What’s not to love about Chicago?”

“The museums and the art, where sculptures are the stars,” Max goes on. “Even though there’s no such thing as spriiiiing!” 

“Meat break!” Sha-Mod says, tossing a handful of pink in the air. It sticks to the ceiling. 

“For the love of veganism, STOP!” Albert says before a chunk gets on his hand and he passes out. 

“Millennium Park and the hustle-bustle,” Julia sings. 

Bonnie picks up. “Hot dogs while the mobsters tussle!”

“And Cubs brands for all us Cubs fans!” Staci squeals. “What’s not to love…”

Kelly and Patrick jump in. “What’s not to love…”

“What’s not to looooove about Chicago!” the teens finish off. 

The loud metal screeching picks up and the conveyor belts come to a stop. Albert groans a small “Thank God,” from the ground. 

“Let’s see, let’s see, let’s see!” Chris comes out of the observation room wearing a vintage suit and swinging around a cane. He approaches the ends of each conveyor belt and studies the tinned meat. “I can tell you who’s not winning.” he chuckles, jabbing at Team Mojo’s measly pile of cans. “Looks like Team Yaoi has finally pulled it together!”

The four cheer enthusiastically and clap their hands. 

“You four will be getting a five minute head start on your foot race to the Cloud Gate,” Chris says. “NOT THE BEAN! The first team to arrive wins the challenge. Readyyyyyy? Go!”

Team Yaoi sets off first, dashing out of the factory and leaving the remaining teams behind. Michela helps Albert off the floor as Patrick grumbles to himself about carrying the team again. 

On the other side of the room, Max sits on the ground, joined by Bonnie, as Kelly and Staci start yapping again. 

“Hey,” Bonnie says, turning to Max. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I wanted to say… you’re right. I get where you’re coming from. Maybe you two should talk about it.”

He sighs. “I know. I won’t, though, I’m just overthinking. I don’t want to start a fight over nothing,”

“What makes you so sure it’d be a fight?”

“Experience,” he murmurs. 

Phillip strides over and sits between them. “What’re we talking about?”

“Nothing,” Bonnie and Max say in unison. 

“Oh, okay. Cool. Does anyone want to read my poetry?”

Bonnie and Max both stand and walk in opposite directions, away from Phillip. He sulks. 

Nearby, Kelly and Staci are gossiping loudly, the latter not bothering to watch her volume as she goes on about her personal life. 

“I mean, I’ve been thinking about it, and I had this revelation,” Staci says, flexing her wrists. “We can do study dates! I mean, she’s a STEM major like me, so the extra practice couldn’t hurt. And we get to spend time together! It’s a win-win!”

Kelly nods along, smiling, but soon turns away and stares off into the distance. 

---

KELLY: “I guess… I don’t know. I used to think having a big heart, being a hopeless romantic was a good thing, but it just makes me feel more alone than ever,” they sigh. 

---

Chris stands in the doorway, tapping his watch. “Five, four, three, two… and one! Get mov-” the teams barrel past him, knocking him onto the ground. “OW!”

---

Team Yaoi navigates the city, looking between them. “Screw a head start, I would’ve preferred a damn map!” Ass sighs, exasperated. “Does anyone have any idea where we are?”

Julia shrugs. “Chicago?”

“Very helpful, thank you!”

“You know what would be helpful right now? Google Maps! Let me just pull out my phone and we can find where the Bean is- oh, right! Some WITCH destroyed it!” Mal screeches. 

Courtney rolls their eyes and pulls out their keys again, jingling them. Mal’s pupils dilate and she stares, transfixed. “Okay, now what?” they ask. 

“Look!” Julia points. 

Down the street, Team Friendship dashes by, led by Staci. The Yaois turn to each other. “Follow them?” Courtney suggests. 

Ass shrugs. “I don’t see why not,”

And with that, they set off. 

---

“There it is! The finish line!” Staci points ahead, the large silver Bean coming into view.

“Mojos on your right!” Bonnie yells. “And Yaois on our left!”

The three teams are neck-in-neck, running alongside each other on other sides of the same street. “Hurry!” Max shouts. 

As the teams get closer and closer to the finish line, each fighting for victory, they make fleeting eye contact with each other- Staci glares at Ass, who glares at Max, who glares at Albert. 

Just mere inches from the Bean, Staci shouts: “JUMP!”

The two other teams follow suit, everyone jumping. A cloud of dust kicks up, obscuring the finish line. Chris’ eyes widen. “And the winner is… is…”

The dust clears, revealing Courtney’s arm has just passed the painted checkers. “The Yaois have won the challenge!”

The respective team weakly cheers. 

“Who loses?” Patrick demands, pointing accusingly at Chris. 

“No one does, silly. This is a non-elimination award challenge!”

The two losing teams breathe a collective sigh of relief, while the Yaois boo. “And for you winners, here’s your prize: a gourmet deep dish pizza dinner, finished off with dessert from Portillo’s Cake Shake!” 

The Yaois cheer and Staci sighs longingly. 

---

The winning team feasts in the galley together, enjoying their meal within sight- and smell- of the other teams, who are munching on gruel. 

“Well, this blows,” Michela sighs. 

“I don’t think I could handle another loss,” Max adds on. “I might start tearing out my hair and banging my head against the wall.”

Michela laughs, then smiles. “I’ve missed that,”

Max smiles back. “I’ve missed you, too,”

Bonnie watches from afar and gives a thumbs up. Staci aws, prompting an eye roll and a grunt of annoyance from the goth. 

“How’re you feeling, man?” Sha-Mod asks as Albert pokes at his gruel. 

“Sick,”

He shakes his head sadly, the Lightning picture taking on a sad expression. Patrick rolls his eyes. 

---

PATRICK: “Another day, another challenge passed thanks to yours truly,” he sighs. “Honestly, I don’t know where they’d be without me. But I do know that I’m carrying this team- and if they want to keep winning, they’re going to have to fall in line.”

[sincerelyciarra]

A Non-Exhaustive Ranking of a few Major Train Systems, by an American who REALLY appreciates Convenient Public Transport

🚞🚂🚅🚝🚞🚂🚅🚝🚞🚂🚅🚝🚞🚂🚅

Amtrak (USA): One of the only public trains in the US and the first train I ever used. Comfortable seats and wifi throughout and all the seats have little tables on the back like planes have, which is nice. Unfortunately, the US transit system being what it is, it’s only really useful for traveling between large cities, not within a city itself. 6/10

The Subway (NYC): Yooooooo. Truly a Boss Bitch™ of public transportation. A little overwhelming at first due to the SHEER MAGNITUDE of the system but very easy to use, convenient, and affordable as all transfers are free. Points taken off for poor ADA accessibility at the majority of stations and because she’s definitely the grimiest. Also these trains should have wifi by now, Jesus. 8/10

The L (Chicago): The Subway’s baby sister who maybe got a little too into recreational drugs during college but she took a semester off and she’s doing much better now. I live in Chicago so I’m biased, but I LOVE the L. Definitely not as many stations as NYC or London (RIP to the West Side) but pretty much the only way to get around downtown unless you want to get an Uber or pay out the ass for street parking; (we don’t have taxis in Chicago.) She’s not perfect but I love her and I’m the one doing the rankings so… 7/10

The Underground (London): Why??? Is it so??? Fucking HOT on the Underground??? Like, the NYC subway is pretty cold because it’s underground, and you’d think that a train system literally called The Underground would be similar, but guess a-fucking-gain. Also the train cars are weirdly narrow? There’s pretty much no standing room except for directly in front of the doors which is bizarre to me, especially given how tube-reliant London is. Also the seats have armrests which is cool I guess? Gets points back for better accessibility compared to most others, INCREDIBLE efficiency, and for the delightful intercom announcements - Mind the Gap, y’all 8/10

Métro (Paris): The entire rail system in Paris is so needlessly convoluted, it makes every other system on this list look 5x better in comparison. I had to go to a counter and buy MULTIPLE PAPER TICKETS for all the transfers because tap to pay at the terminal didn’t work. And GOD HELP YOU if you get all these fiddly little paper tickets mixed up, because once you scan them, even if the machine doesn’t process it and gives you an error, that bitch is GONE. (Shout out to the many random Paris locals that helped me navigate their hell-system with two suitcases.) Also, the fewest seats per train of all of them, which is just extra insult to injury. I did eventually get to where I needed to be so I guess there’s that. I guess. 3/10

Eurostar (Europe): She is Expensive, but there are bathrooms, food, and wifi onboard. And I got a passport stamp! 8/10

[marvel1012]

Sins of the Father - Pt. 3 "Sam"

Synopsis: AU 3rd season episode of The Bear. Carm makes a startling discovery, and must navigate the fallout.

Warnings: cursing, mostly

Word count: 3,170

Author's note: The epic conclusion to our saga! Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2

________________________________

It took Carm a week to put together a list of halfway houses in the greater Chicago area, and the better part of another week going building to building, looking for Sam. On his third try, he noticed the name “S. Morris” on the directory outside the door. Number 302. 

“No time like the present,” he whispered under his breath, and rang the buzzer. 

“Whaddya want?” His biological father’s tinny sounding voice coming through the ancient speaker. 

“It’s Carmen. I wanna talk.” 

Silence. Nothing happened. A breath, two breaths. Then, the sound of the door to the building buzzing. He quickly grabbed the handle and swung it open, stepping into the foyer. The room was illuminated by a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, and the dingy tile looked every bit as old as the intercom outside. One whole wall was composed of numbered mailboxes, and looking ahead, through a second door, he saw the stairwell. 

Of course he’d be in some shitty walk-up. 

Carm started the climb up to the third floor. By the time he reached the top of the third flight of stairs, his heart was pounding. Maybe he’d been skipping out on the gym a little too much lately. Apartment number 302 was the first door on the left from the top of the stairs. He knocked, and the door swung open a moment later. Sam didn’t say anything, just beckoned him inside. 

Carmen followed Sam into the shabby studio apartment, passing a tiny kitchenette to their right as they made their way to the combo living and sleeping area. When they got to the end of the short hallway and emerged into the open space, two things struck him simultaneously– the place was mostly empty, practically devoid of furniture and personal items, but the walls were covered with some of the most breathtaking still-life drawings he’d ever seen. He actually gasped as he took them all in. There were a few figures, mostly bare backs and disembodied hand studies, but what really grabbed his attention were the more traditional pieces. Over by the window, shiny fruit spilling out of a bowl onto a table, and there, a vase filled with exquisite flowers, their petals so detailed they seemed like they could pop right off the page. 

Sam realized he had stopped in the doorway, so he turned. He followed Carm’s gaze to the walls and nodded, “Oh, yeah. Those. I used to doodle a lot as a kid, but I picked this up while I was away. The prison library actually had a book about drawing fruit and shit like that, if you can believe it. I think it kept me from goin’ crazy,” he smirked and shook his head, “well, crazier.” 

Carmen was at a loss for words. All his life, he’d wondered where his talent for art had come from. Growing up, Donna had yelled at him for spending his time in class drawing instead of taking notes. Mikey and Richie had teased him mercilessly about his clothing sketches. Nat had liked to look at his drawings, but the best she could ever manage were stick figures with circles for heads and birds in flight that looked like stretched out M’s. Now a long held, secret hunch had been proven right in the most shocking and unexpected way. He’d always wanted to believe that he’d inherited his artistic gifts from Jerry. Now he knew the talent had come from his father, just not the one he thought.  

Carmen realized Sam was watching him, waiting for some kind of response. He pressed two fingers to his lips and nodded, “I draw some, too. Your stuff is good.” 

The corner of Sam’s mouth twitched up in a smirk at the complement. He walked over to a cheap black futon pushed into a corner against the far wall. Apparently he had been using an overturned plastic milk crate as an end table and nightstand– he quickly cleared off the top and moved it out into the middle of the room, then he settled onto the futon and indicated that Carm should have a seat on the crate across from him. “Have a seat.” 

Carmy did as he was told. The sharp plastic on the bottom of the crate pressed through the fabric of his pants and into his skin as he settled onto it. His nerves were jangling and tight, and he couldn’t help but bounce his right foot rhythmically against the side of the crate. He slid a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, craving a smoke to clear his mind, but before he could get the cig to his mouth, Sam shook his head. “You can’t smoke in here, there are rules.” 

Carm sighed and returned the cigarette to the pack, stuck the pack back into his pocket. Now what? “I, ah, did what you said.” 

“What’s that?” 

“I went to see my mom. I asked her about you.” 

Sam’s eyebrows flashed. “Oh, yeah? She give you an earful?” 

“Guess you could say that.” He bit his lip, peeling a little bit of chapped skin off with his teeth, not really sure how to proceed. “She, ah, said you guys had a one night stand, and that’s how, well, I mean,” he trailed off, visibly uncomfortable at the implication. 

Sam was staring intently, enjoying watching Carm squirm. A cold grin spread across his face. “That’s what she said, huh?” He sucked his teeth, laced his fingers around the back of his head and leaned into the futon, stretching out fully and crossing his ankles in front of him.

“Did you believe her?” 

“Huh?” 

“Don. Did you believe her story? About me?” 

Carmen pursed his lips. He didn’t like the sound of his mom’s nickname coming out of this stranger’s mouth. He decided to let it go, this time. “Maybe some of it? But not really.” 

Sam nodded, still smiling. “So you came to me. You wanna know what really happened.” 

This jagoff is having the time of his life. What a sick fuck.

Carm shrugged, “Sure.” Who else could I ask? 

The older man sniffed and shrugged back. “Alright, here’s the deal. Jerry and I worked together for a while, before he opened the restaurant but right after he, Jimmy, and Lee started the KBL front,” he chuckled, “talk about the three stooges, amiright?”

Carm just stared, nonplussed. 

“So, ah, anyways, your mom helped out in the office sometimes, doin’ billin’ and shit, I dunno. I didn’t really care, all I remember is she had cans like you would not believe. And those skirts she would wear, with the panty hose? That little black line up the back of her calf? Jeeezus fuckin’--” 

“Hey! I get it. I get it, alright? That’s my mom.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Well, let’s just say she knew what she was doin’. We were together for months before you came along. Jerry made it sooo fuckin’ easy, too. He was always runnin’ from job to job, tryin’ to look legit while he was screwin’ around with those other two assholes, playin’ at bein’ gangsters. Ha! Ain’t that some shit. Fuckin’ Jimmy is Polish.” 

Carm rolled his eyes, tried to steer the conversation back to the point. “So my Da– Jerry. He didn’t know?” 

“Fuck, no. I mean, he figured some of it out when Don got knocked up. By that point they hadn’t touched each other in so long, he knew she was fuckin’ around on him with somebody. Had ta be.”

“And then what?” 

“Yer mom had you. And you came out lookin’ just like me.” That soft, malicious laugh again. “I couldn’t believe it, you had my eyes and everything. Right there in fuckin’ Jerry Berzatto’s face. You were like a blinkin’ neon sign, kid.”  

Carmen felt his chest tightening up. He really didn’t want to have a full blown panic attack in front of this douche bag. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. 

“And?” 

Sam unlaced his hands and sat forward on the couch, arms draped over his knees. He was leaning in toward Carmy now, studying him. It felt like being sized up by a man eating lion. 

“He couldn’t fuckin’ handle it. He tried to take care of you for a while, and Don told me to get lost. She wanted to fix things, she said. I think we all know how that went.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, Jerry couldn’t cut it. There you were, a tiny reminder of what Donna and I had done. He finally had enough of her bullshit, I guess. And you were just the straw that broke the camel’s back.” 

Carm’s brows furrowed. “What are you saying?” 

“Kid. Come on. You’re related to me so I know you can’t be that fuckin’ dense. You’re the reason Jerry finally left. He had put up with so much from Don over the years, hand to God the dumb fuck tried, but in the end it wasn’t enough. With a broad like Donna, it never is.” 

Oh, shit. It was happening again. Carmen pressed a fist to his sternum and stared at that singular point, trying to focus on his breathing. Not right now, don’t do this now. 

“Y-you’re…that’s not…” 

“Not true? You think I’m lying? Why would I? Jerry Berzatto was a sleaze bag and a criminal that let another man fuck his wife for months, then he split when he couldn’t deal.” Carm couldn’t see it, but Sam was rubbing his fingers across his top lip, considering his next words carefully. 

“When I saw what a shit show that house turned into, after he left, I knew I had to take you away from it. Away from her.” 

All at once, the world screeched to a halt. Carm sat there, frozen, burgeoning panic attack stalled out, so still he didn’t even bother to breathe. Finally, he looked up at Sam from under his mop of curls. Their eyes met, and there was that predatory stare again. 

“You– what?” Carmen whispered. 

“I tried to take you away from all that– that– chaos, that Don created for everybody around her. I know you don’t remember any of that, you were so little, but when Jerry left, shit really hit the fan. And I wasn’t gonna just walk away. No fuckin’ way. You were mine.” 

“You– kidnapped me?” 

“That’s what they put me away for. Even tacked on an extra 15 years, because I had a gun under the passenger seat of my car. I never fuckin’ touched the thing, forgot it was even there. Shitass detectives doubled my time over that stupid gun. Aggravated kidnapping my lily white ass.” 

Carm was still struggling to process the idea that his birth really had caused the destruction of his parents’ marriage, a confirmation of the guilt that had hidden all these years in the darkest recesses of his heart. The news that his biological father had kidnapped him just wouldn’t compute. He didn’t know what to say. He ran his hands through his hair and held his head practically in his lap. 

Sam kept talking, trying to fill the loaded, awkward silence. “I slipped into the house one afternoon. Donna was passed out on the couch, she didn’t even realize I was there. You were napping in your crib, so I just picked you up real easy and carried you out to my car,” this time, his smile was kinda sad, “I even had a car seat for you. Me. A fuckin’ car seat.” 

“How did I—?”

“Get back home? Jerry.” 

Carmy’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. “My dad?”

The older man’s expression darkened. “Jerry. When Donna woke up and couldn’t find you, she called him. He knew what kind of car I drove, so he reported you missing and gave the cops a description of you, me, and the car. Pulled us over on the I-94.” 

“My dad– saved me?”

Sam leaned over and poked Carmen hard in the chest. “Jerry Berzatto is not your father! I am your father, you call me Dad now.  You’re mine and we belong together. We always have! You’re not like them, and you know it.” 

Carm absentmindedly rubbed the sore spot on his upper chest where Sam’s finger had dug into his skin, barely paying attention to the other man’s proximity. His eyes were fixed on a sketch on the wall, a hand study– he knew it was impossible, but he could almost swear they were Donna’s. Donna’s hands on Sam Morris’s wall. 

And still, Sam kept talking. “We should have been together all of those years. You and me, kid, we’re two of a kind, I just know it. But we can be that way now, Carmen. Make up for lost time. You and me, we don’t need anybody else. You don’t need Don, or Natalie, or that little prick Richie that was always hangin’ around your house,” he gently reached out to cup Carm’s cheek, turning his head so they were face to face once more, “let me be your family now, Carmy.” 

From somewhere in the dimmest shadows of distant memory, there was a flash of something, some impression that he could barely put his finger on. It was the vague notion of a voice, and the smell of cooking grease, sweat, nicotine. Strong arms holding him tight and the voice was saying, “Carmy Bear”. No, wait, maybe it was “I gotcha, Carmy Bear.” 

“Carmy Bear,” he breathed. 

“Huh?” Sam looked confused, not entirely sure what he’d heard. 

“Carmy Bear.” Carmen slapped Sam’s hand away from his face and jumped to his feet. “My name is Carmen Berzatto. I have a family, and I don’t need anything from you.” 

Sam stood now too, looming a full head taller than his son. “You don’t belong in that family and you know that’s the truth. Every time Jerry looked at you, he saw me. Every time Donna looks at you, she sees me. They took care of you, but they don’t love you like I do, Carmen.They never have, and they never wi–” 

Carm shoved Sam hard in the chest, knocking him back onto the futon. He sat there, momentarily stunned, as the younger man stood over him, practically shaking with rage. “You think you’re smart because you exploited the weakness in another man’s marriage? You think there’s something special about you because you took advantage of someone who was lonely and sick? You think you’re some kind of fuckin’ hero because you stole a child?” 

“Carmen, I-” 

“No! You’re nothing to me! Nothing!” He turned away from his father and ran his hands through his hair again, drowning in the waves of emotion breaking over him– anger, sadness, longing, love, hope, and pain. 

Sam was saying something, but Carmy was too far away to listen. He was suddenly overcome with scenes from his childhood, flashing before his eyes like one of those old photo slide shows. 

He was 8. A brief period where Donna was completely sober. The smell of blueberry pancakes on the kitchen table before they left for Mass. Her smile. 

He was 10. Hiding behind some bushes in the backyard after they switched Lee’s ginger ale with mouthwash— Nat’s dark blue eyes shining in the afternoon sun as she kept a hand clapped over her mouth, trying so hard to be quiet and not to giggle. 

He was 14. The first time Richie called him “Cousin”. 

He was 17. Cooking with Mikey, helping him perfect the spaghetti recipe that they’d use at The Beef. Laughing at his crazy stories, experimenting with flavors, not a care in the world. 

He cut Sam off mid-sentence. “I know who I am. And I know where I belong.” He turned to face his father. “I never want to see you again. Stay out of my life, or I’ll make you wish I had never been born.” 

“Mission fuckin’ accomplished,” Sam spat. 

“Fuck you,” Carm muttered as he marched out of the apartment. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if Sam pursued him, but thankfully that didn’t happen. He practically ran down the stairs and through the foyer, hitting the push bar with enough force that he stumbled onto the sidewalk. Once he’d recovered his balance, he shoved his hands in his pockets and marched toward the train station, breath misting in the chilly air. 

__________________________________________________________

When the doorbell rang, Pete and Natalie gave each other puzzled looks across their dining room table. Nat’s eyebrow raised in a silent question, and Pete shrugged. “I’ll go check.” 

He definitely wasn’t expecting to see Carmy when he opened the door. He smiled, clearly thrown. “Oh, hey Carm. Uh, whaa–what’s up?” 

Carmen still had his hands jammed into his pockets, and he didn’t return Pete’s smile, only gave him an apologetic shrug. “Hey Pete. Is Nat here?” 

“Sure, yeah, she’s in the kitchen feeding Antonia her lunch. Come in.” 

As the pair turned the corner into the eat-in kitchen with Pete in the lead, he tried to cover the awkwardness of the unannounced visit by acting excited. “Hey, look who’s here, Nat! Carmen dropped by!” 

From her perch in front of her daughter’s high chair, Natalie looked up, swiping a strand of hair out of her face and inadvertently leaving a smear of sweet potato baby food on her forehead. She was so surprised to see her little brother that she didn’t even notice. 

“Carm? What’s wrong? Is everything okay at the store?” 

Carmen made a simmer down gesture with his hands. “Yeah, everything’s fine, Sugar. I just needed to see ya.”

Well attuned to the usual antics of his wife’s family members, Pete could immediately sense some Berzatto drama incoming. He headed over to grab Antonia. “We’ll just go, and leave you guys to it.” 

“No, Pete, if it’s alright, I’d like her to stay. And you, too.”  

Pete glanced at Nat, who gave the tiniest of nods. He settled into one of the dining chairs. 

Carmen reached down and picked up his niece. Cradling her to his chest, he inhaled deeply. She smelled like Johnson’s baby shampoo and sweet potato puree. As she looked up into his face, he could see so much of Pete in her features, but her earnest expression was all Sugar. He smiled down at her, just taking her in for a second, and then sat down in the nearest chair. 

Natalie could tell there was something weighing on him. And it was freaking her out. She saw Carm looking stressed all the time at work, but this was different. Whatever this was, it was really heavy.  

She leaned toward him, that same serious look on her face that Antonia had. “Carm. Are you okay?” 

Carmen looked from his niece, to his brother-in-law, to his sister, and nodded as if he’d just made up his mind. 

“Sug, there’s somethin’ I gotta tell ya.” 

Fade to black, credits roll…

[kiloskywalker]

Nice ass(k) day

Hi Kilo!! How are the friendly skies? Have you ever accidentally said something weird or awkward over the intercom? Also have you ever gotten to ride the emergency slide? I’ve always wanted to do that!! (Once I was in the emergency exit row and the flight attendant did the thing where she asked if we were all okay helping out if needed and I told the guy next to me that I’ve always wanted to ride the slide and I got one of these 👀)

Hi Lemon! Thanks for the nice ass(k) day!

The friendly skies are wonderful! I've been mostly on reserve this week, meaning they only call me if they need me to fly and as a result I've only flown on two days once from DC to Chicago and back and then once from DC to Houston and back. My schedule picks back up again tomorrow where I start a 3 day trip followed by two days off and then another 4 day trip. I thankfully have never said anything awkward or weird over the PA into the passenger cabin! I think years of phone anxiety and practicing what I'm gonna say before I say it has helped with that lol! I definitely remember early in my career accidentally transmitted a passenger briefing ("Hello ladies and gentlemen and welcome aboard flight 123 to Denver" etc. ) over the airport ground frequency instead of the PA. I definitely got thoroughly ROASTED by air traffic control and other pilots and have not made that mistake again. I have gotten to ride down the emergency slide! We all get to do it during our training! You move super fast and the idea is that you don't lie down flat but make sure to keep your back straight as you slide down since it's easier to be pulled off when you get to the bottom. Plus it reduces your chance of injury in flying off of it! Another thing that people don't really realize is that planes are quite high off the ground, so you are falling quite a distance. I fly the Boeing 737, and the door height is 9 feet which is crazy. I have friends who fly the Boeing 757 (which is the one where I got to ride that slide) and the door height is about 20 feet up which is even higher. I know my airline does tours every so often of their pilot training center where you get to play with the full motion simulators and learn about how cabin crew does their training and part of that includes being able to go down the slide. I would recommend it! Its so much fun! Plus then you know what to do in an actual emergency. Its good to be prepared!

[journey-tothesurface]

pls pls give us the oc infodump. starting with maybe liza and elliott??? 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🙏

Oooh yes i totally can

Liza (39 years old. Full name - Elizabeta Calathes): a Greek-American woman originally from Chicago. Liza was a radio operator who came to Rapture to help establish the wireless communications system, then had a successful stint as a producer and DJ/host on Radio Rapture. She was never a fan of Cohen’s iron grip over the art and music scenes, but keeping her job was so dependent on his mood that she never openly spoke out in fear of retaliation. Liza’s refusal to stop airing Anna’s music after her death and subsequent blacklisting triggered Cohen to have her fired, and without a job Liza would have been just one of many splicers scrounging for ADAM in Apollo square when Jack came to Rapture if Lamb hadn’t approached her with the offer of helping the Family broadcast their messages to the city. Within the family’s ranks, Liza worked on communications and radio transmissions, since her expertise made her very well-versed in two-way radio, city intercoms, and accuvox technology; though she was also willing to serve as a foot soldier when needed. Due to the effects of ADAM poisoning, Liza suffered from near-constant pain after she began splicing.

Elliott (45 years old. Full name - Dr. Elliott Makinde): Elliott’s parents were Nigerian, but he himself was born and raised in Manchester. He came to Rapture shortly after earning his medical license because he wanted to open his own clinic, but a few of Rapture’s higher-ups were suspicious of his willingness to treat patients who otherwise couldn’t afford it (which sounded a lot like charity to Ryan’s ears). To avoid attention, Elliott’s clinic was in Skid Row, where the residents who came looking for his pro bono services were also a lot less likely to talk about him in a place where Ryan’s circle could overhear. During the civil war, a group of Atlas’s rebels came to his clinic looking for medical help, and Elliott tended to them while knowing who they were. When Ryan found out, he had Elliott thrown in Persephone, where he encountered doctor Lamb and fell in with the Rapture Family. He loved kids and always wanted children of his own, but he and his partner were never able to adopt. Within the family, he primarily worked as a physician for the sick/injured or a field medic on missions, but rarely if ever as a fighter, since he was a committed pacifist. ADAM sickness gave him the habit of tearing at his face when distressed, so Elliott had a series of scars on his cheeks, forehead, and around his eyes.

[ratpalaceusa]

The Gift of Structure

How do you define success?

It’s different for everyone. But getting to that place is much easier for some than it is for others. I think what it really comes down to is the tools one has, given, taught, acquired, taken, to get where they are going. As I sit in my current Home Office, aka the McDonald’s parking lot on Slauson in South LA, where I can occupy my mini-mobile-home for hours syphoning their WiFi and buying nothing, I am thinking about the idea and accessibility of structure.

When someone comes from a chaotic home life, one where there is little to no structure, it is difficult to build any semblance of it later in life. I had some, sometimes, periodically growing up, whereas my half brother, my father’s son who was eleven years older than me, grew up with essentially none. My father and his mother were both battling their own addictions when he was young, and he was basically left to run wild, partying in middle school and sleeping in closets. He got a felony at 17 for something stupid that created no bodily harm or lasting financial damage to anyone, but it followed him like a little red cloud; a mark on his permanent record. When he lived with us, his dad’s second family, he painted his bedroom black, and everyone in the house had a mattress on the floor. He didn’t have a bedroom in all of the 14 places we lived either. And when he was at his mother’s place, it was hit or miss; she went from party-girl to mid-1980s yuppie almost overnight. He kind of drifted through high school and into college, no great plans or passions, smart and funny and a little cynical.

And so when he finally did figure out what he wanted to do and graduated college, he couldn’t do it, because he had a felony. He was smart and very good with his hands; our father was a carpenter and taught us how to use tools and fix things when we were both, respectively, very young. But my half brother wanted to be a teacher, which isn’t allowed if you have a felony. And so when his high school best friend overdosed, and he himself had traveled a bit to no real destination, he decided to zig where the rest of the family of local vagabonds and artistic rebels had zagged and he joined the military.

Most families in America would celebrate this decision, but my parents, our dad and his step-mom, thought he had lost his mind. Former Viet Nam War protestors and rabble rousers, they could not fathom joining the military industrial complex. But he did, at 26.

My young-anarchist ass didn’t really get it either then,I was protesting my own generation’s Big War in the early 2000s (and much later as well), participating in and later in my twenties training other activists in civil disobedience, and getting in trouble for refusing to stand for the Star Spangled Banner that played loudly over the intercom in my Chicago Public School during those first few years of the War in Iraq, the same war my brother was actively in, working as a high level mechanic in the Air Force. (Thanks for all those trades skills, dad, no sarcasm, genuinely.)

It wasn’t until much later in life that I understood why my brother joined the Air Force.

Whether or not he agreed with everything behind it politically, and to my recollection he didn’t, he needed imposed structure in his life. He had never had his days blocked out for him in that way. He never had parents or teachers pushing him towards achievable goals. He was also not an artist, at least not in a traditional sense, and would never claim to be. He didn’t have that wayward artist spirit that the rest of us did.

He was also probably tired of dealing with our dad’s perpetual struggle for sobriety, my late mom’s aging-hipster tendencies and latent mental illness, his own mom’s journey from cocaine to real estate and a stable second marriage. He and I never had the bond siblings often have, we liked each other, but we were different generations and in many ways, diametrically opposites. Perhaps if we were both angry teenagers at the same time we would have been closer, but we might have hated each other too, we will never know.

So, he followed the structure that he craved by joining the Air Force, he rose in ranks, now he’s a lifer and a Sargent I believe, and ultimately joined Military Intelligence. He severed ties when he opted for the Intelligence route, quietly fading into the distance and out of frame, with our dad’s entire side of the family, myself included. I look him up sometimes, he’s alive and receives medals and awards. He’s found his place, and it is almost antithetical to mine. I do not blame him for severing ties; none of us look good on a background check.

But I get it.

And I struggle with structure myself.

I have created self-imposed structures for myself over the years, through my artwork, collaborative projects, the band I was in for twelve years called the Fuzzy Bunnies of Death, Building for a large-scale Burning Man theme camp, or for festivals, or in the film industry (again, thanks for the trades skills, dad), all of which are inherently chaotic environments. But you build your own structure, you really have to see your own finish line and not give up until you get there.

And so where am I going with this.

Having structure in one’s home life is a privilege not afforded to everyone. What seems easy to someone who was raised by people who paid bills on time and grew up with health insurance and parents who worked consistently, people who paid taxes every year and enforced bedtimes rather than staying up until 2am watching MTV back when it still had music videos, does not come easily to someone who has had to trudge through any semblance of dealing with bureaucracy or health insurance or the DMV or LINES OF CREDIT (Jesus Christ, no one had or talked about credit in my family except one year where my mother got a $500 credit card and promptly maxed it out) those things are much more difficult. And half the energy of doing them goes to figuring out what they even mean and how they are meant to be done.

And don’t get me wrong, I’ve had it a lot better than many. I am not speaking only about myself, hardly ever. I have had it light years easier than a lot of people out there.

And I think about these things, as I sit in my SUV tiny house, currently technically-homeless after years of struggling to afford rent, even in the cheap sketchy places of LA’s countercultural underbelly run by sketchy has-beens, yet my homelessness is not the same as the homelessness of the people spanging at the drive-through lines at this same McDonalds; the people who grew up in foster care or group homes like my life partner Saturn, the people currently living in shelters, the people who don’t have iPads on which they can write blogs on tumblr whilst stealing McDonalds WiFi. It’s different, and I will always acknowledge that it’s different.

Not everyone is starting from the same place and yet is expected to get to the same finish line.

But context is everything.

Some people have a thousand hurdles to cross just to get up in the morning, others wake up with the sunrise and head to the gym.

We are not all coming from the same place and society cannot be gaged by the same metric.

Some people’s boot straps are ripped in half but they’re still trying, so fuck you Ayn Rand.

Success is what success means to you, not to anybody else. Live a life that makes you want to get up in the morning, not one dictated to you by the world.

Help each other, lift each other up. Understand that some people’s parents were born in the Major Leagues, and some people have never held a baseball. So if you’re a master at it, teach those people the game, instead of just standing on their backs to get yourself a little higher up.

Rats, love and revolution 🐀✨