#Idk what this is but I wanted to write it so

[indecisivemuch]

hii first of all luv the username cause as a libra rising, samedt ;-; i'd like to make a request for a luke x f!reader fic pls!! um, so they're best friends, and luke decides to confess to r by giving her gifts, letters, trinkets, etc. with hints about his identity, but she doesn't know who they're from. so she asks for luke's help to find out about the identity of her secret admirer. but what if there's like a mistaken identity and she thinks it's someone from the hermes cabin (maybe chris? or one of the stoll brothers idk) and luke's just all pouty but nonchalant or something, but deep down he's like 'how do i even make her see' or something (while also second guessing that maybe he shouldn't confess it's him) like fluff with tiny angst :>

Message in a Bottle

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You got a secret admirer and recruited Luke to help you find out who they are...ignoring the most obvious option (Fluff, angst, best friends to lovers, happy ending)

Note: I'm so sorry for the six month hiatus. It wasn't by choice, I swear 😭. So many bad things kept happening that prevented me from writing (is this the writers curse people kept talking about?). Also, the request wanted only a sprinkle of angst, but I kinda got out of hand with it I think 😭 (sorry).

Word count: 4.4k (whoops)

You’ve always thought that too much of something is bad. Yet, ever since the day your life intertwined with Luke Castellan’s, you weren’t very sure about that anymore. 

The two of you arrived at camp around the same time, entering a friendship that felt like hitting the jackpot. Your early days together were something that you both treasured dearly. Every time you thought a certain time period would someday be reminisced as the golden days of your friendships, new things would come, and top it off. 

However, golden skies were soon evaded by clouds of pink hues. You found yourself noticing and appreciating small details you haven’t noticed before about your best friend. Initially, you acknowledged the growing feeling but decided that they better remain as footnotes in chapters of your life. However, fate’s design was different to your plans, because two years later, here you were: you looked at him almost in the same way a fool would look at the world with rose-colored glasses (but then again, maybe it was because you have learned to embrace and adore his flaws).

“Luke!”

The Hermes cabin counselor snapped his head towards the sound of your voice, eyes straying from his duty of the hour. A smile began forming on his face as you came to view, almost like he has always been programmed to do so. There was a certain spring in your steps. Moments like these made Luke feel like he was a minimalist because your happiness was somehow enough to guarantee his own. 

You situated yourself next to Luke on the ground, not minding the dirt.

“Hey now, I’m meant to be watching these kids train, don’t come over and distract me,” the Hermes cabin counselor warned, though he didn’t move his eyes away from you. He simply couldn’t.

Everything about you served as a distraction to him. From the soft smirk gracing your lips to the innocent tilting of your head. Every little detail about you was captivating and was equally capable of drawing his attention away from wherever it was meant to be. 

In fact, his attention issue around you was getting rather shameless because his friends have begun picking up on it and started teasing him for it. Personally, Luke doesn’t think it was his fault. His eyes just happen to draw to you in every room like second nature, while his mind short-circuited every time you were near. 

Maybe, and just maybe being rational and able to function properly has stopped being his forte…at least whenever you were around.

Your eyes moved to the group of kids that were only going to be at camp for the summer. From the looks of it, Luke has just assigned them to practice sword fighting in pairs. You then glanced back at your best friend, discreetly drinking in the sight of him. 

No doubt he did his fair share of demonstration before letting these kids go off on their own, because right now, his face was slightly flushed, veins evident on his forearm while the familiar orange shirt clung onto his body with glistening sweat.

You shook away the non-platonic thoughts and teased him, “Oh, come on, you wouldn’t pass up on talking to me. You adore me too much.” 

Damn right, he does. Luke could feel his cheeks heat up again.

“Fine. What are you here for, firecracker?”

“I got another gift,” you informed, presenting the bracelet in your hand. 

For the past month, you have been receiving small letters and gifts. This time it was a handmade bracelet with beads of your favorite colors, as well as charms that represented some of your hobbies and favorite things. It was clear that your anonymous admirer had put a lot of thought into such a small item. However, as always, there were no identities attached to it, leaving you clueless about the person behind these gestures.

Luke took your hand in his, eying the accessory that perfectly fitted your wrist. He started toying with the beads around your wrist that were shining in your favorite color.

The boy’s gaze flicked from the object to you, catching your soft and warm look. Gods, if you kept looking at him like that, he might just actually stop thinking logically. He could practically feel a confession lingering behind his lips, threatening to spew the second his ropes of restraint died.

“Anyway, I came here with an idea,” you broke the silence. “What if I try to find out who this person is? I mean, some of these gifts are quite specific. They seem to know my favorite color, flowers, and things I like. Surely, it wouldn’t be that hard to narrow it down and figure it out?”

Something shifted in your best friend’s behavior and you could feel it. There was a slight flustering look on Luke’s face as he avoided eye contact with you. It was rather strange to see the Hermes cabin counselor so fidgety. Luke has always been confident and composed, and you’d often be the one to humble down his playful cocky remarks. Half-way through looking at his behavior, you began speaking:

“You…”

Luke could feel the blood draining from his face at your facial expression, his face paling despite how flushed he was seconds ago from demonstrating sword fighting. The boy tried to regain his composure, though his attempt at seeming nonchalant failed as you touched his arm. Did you—

“You can be my inside man, talk to these guys to see if they’d slip up or something like that.” 

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Luke hastily replied, clearing his throat.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did that come across as a suggestion? I hate to break it to you but being best friends means you sorta have to participate in my schemes,” your lips curled as Luke grunted at your words. 

“Yeah, but—”

“Luke, please…it’ll be fun,” he almost scoffed at your words and unconvincing argument. Clearly, the two of you had different definitions of fun. Just as he opened his mouth to reject your idea again, his eyes caught yours. You were looking at him in such an eager and heart-warming gaze that it made him forget what he was intending to say.

Ah, there was no denying anymore. Being rational and able to function properly has truly stopped being his forte.

“Fine,” Luke uttered, the word pricking his tongue as regret started kicking in as he accepted being your accomplice. This decision could only come back to bite him in the ass. He watched as you quickly celebrated his lack of restraint.

“Ah, you gave in quite quickly,” you jabbed.

“Shut up.”

Oh, you were going to be the death of him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two days have passed since you got Luke to agree to help you find your secret admirer. Though, the boy must say, the last forty eight hours have been slightly comedic for him, watching you trying to track down your secret admirer…

While the real sender of those gifts was right beside you, nodding along to your every word. 

Luke’s mind trailed to the origin of this “secret admirer” idea. He started it as a way to abate the urge of straight-up blurting out how love-struck he was with his own best friend, while also testing out the waters before finally confessing his feelings for you. 

Though it was slightly amusing how the idea led him to where he was right at that moment. The Hermes cabin counselor zoned out as he pretended to speak to another boy you thought was behind those sweet gifts and letters. 

Luke used to have those feelings under rein, but self-repression only caused it to grow exponentially. Initially, the Hermes cabin counselor dismissed those beyond friendly thoughts, thinking they would eventually fizzle away. However, against his predictions, this fondness towards you became a sort of companion to him for three long years. 

Not only that, years of excessively burying these feelings six feet underground also came back to bite him in the ass because instead of having his feelings under control, they now have the upper hand. 

Sometimes he felt like a puppet, while his feelings plucked the strings. His facial expressions were forever cursed to be sculpted in raw yearning whenever around you, having no choice over how he reacts to everything related to you.

But it didn’t matter, because he was going to finally confess soon.

Luke almost burst out laughing at the way you were standing in anticipation, waiting for his intel on the most recent candidate. It was entertaining, to say the least, pretending to engage in investigative conversation before heading back to you, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. 

However, it didn’t take long before the Hermes cabin counselor started feeling sour.

Just as he made it back to your side, he watched as you started talking again, already discussing the next guy you thought might have done these things that Luke himself came up with. He eyed your in sync footsteps with a heavy heart. Despite the matching movement, he somehow still felt eternally behind. Luke was so close, yet so far away, and never quite able to grasp onto your ever moving attention. 

Did you not consider him as an option at all? Did you truly not see him as anything other than a good friend? It started stinging him knowing you were considering all these other guys as potential candidates — the faces that now haunt him in his sleep, poisoning his mind with an acidic jealousy that was eating away his common senses and fueling immoral thoughts. 

Soon enough, that same jealousy seared his mind with this overwhelming self-doubt. Luke’s foot started feeling cold at the thought of confessing. Gods, he never thought the same security behind anonymity would now make him feel desperate to be seen by you. 

“Maybe I should give up,” you concluded, mindlessly staring ahead. Your attention elsewhere gave Clarisse and Chris an opportunity to send each other knowing looks. The two have been watching you run around in circles on a goose hunt, not knowing to look right behind at the sulking figure that was trailing after you. 

Your distracted state also meant you didn’t notice the moping human situated beside you. However, hearing your declaration of ending your chase, Luke saw a window of opportunity. Maybe now was finally the time to be truthful. After all, if he doesn’t tell you, then how will you know and see him? Luke’s momentary motivation carried him through waves of dejection.

“Y/N, I need to tell you something,” Luke blurted out without much more thought or preparation, and his tone made you fully turn to him. Just as words finally formed and the boy opened his mouth to tell you—

“Hey Y/N, can I talk to you privately?” Somebody interrupted. Your eyes didn’t leave Luke immediately, but when you saw your best friend’s momentum had faltered, you turned to the stranger. It was another Hermes boy, somebody who you’ve seen around. You politely agreed and left with him. 

“So, I heard you’ve been looking for the person who’s been giving you anonymous gifts. And well, it’s your lucky day, 'cause…” the boy stared you up and down while you subconsciously took a small step back when he leaned forward. “...I’ve decided to come forward and reveal myself.”

“Okay…well, prove it” you squinted. Though your skepticism didn’t make the Hermes boy in front of you falter. Clearly, he expected this.

“The first thing you were given was a note, and…the two most recent gifts were a cassette tape and a bracelet — which was made from beads of your favorite color and charms like…” you zoned out as the boy started listing out some of your favorite activities that were indeed the charms on your bracelet. You fiddled with the bracelet that you had purposefully hidden out of his view right behind your back.

There was a pinch in your heart that signaled the last bit of hope dying. 

Oh…so Luke really wasn’t your secret admirer.

You internally scoffed at yourself. You should have known right after he said yes to helping you out with finding your secret admirer — which was originally an idea used as bait to determine if Luke was the sender or not, because if it was really him then he wouldn’t have agreed to help you out with this. However, not only did your best friend agree without much convincing from you, but he had seemed so nonchalant and unaffected as you named all these boys you wanted him to talk to. 

Perhaps this secret admirer thing was something good. Somebody has shown interest and their actions have been nothing but sweet. Those letters contained words that were eternally bound to your memories, even altering the way you view yourself for the better. Maybe you could get to know this person and move on from hopelessly crushing on your best friend.  

Halfway through, you realize you were so engulfed in your thoughts that you have zoned out to half of the things the Hermes boy was saying, and merely caught onto the last bit of his speech:

“...thinking maybe we could go on a date and get to know each other more tonight?”

Your stomach churned again, yet you nodded your head.

Move on. Move on. Move on. Move on. 

Your friends gave you questioning looks when you got back to where they were, clearly curious about what you were pulled away for.

“So…that was my secret admirer, and I’m going on a date with him tonight,” you hoped you sounded more enthusiastic than you were feeling. You tried convincing yourself at least it was good knowing definitely how your best friend actually felt about you. Quickly sitting down, you kept your eyes on Clarisse, knowing if you even looked over at Luke, he’d be able to tell straight away that something was wrong.

Your lack of focus also meant you didn’t think much of the quiet murmur from your best friend: “Sorry, I just remember I need to do something.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time. It was now the afternoon and you just finished getting ready for your date. As you were leaving, you spotted a note at the foot of your cabin. Seeing your name written on the paper, you picked it up while eying it peculiarly.

“You could be the one that I love, 

I could be the one that you dream of,

Message in a bottle is all I can do, 

Standing here hoping it gets to you.”

Your gut feeling stirred, hitting you with waves of higher certainty over suspicions you have previously had and denied.

Those lyrics were directly associated with a memory from summer two years ago. 

Luke and you were sitting by the campfire when he asked what your favorite song was. You told him the name and mentioned you hadn’t listened to it in a while because using technology devices with signals were dangerous for Demigods. The conversation slipped your mind but clearly loitered in your best friend’s mind, because two months later while on your way back to camp from your quest together, he gifted you a tape player along with a cassette of said song along with others that you liked.

You blinked away the image of you leaning on Luke’s shoulder while the two of you listened to the song together on the train back to camp.

You re-read the note again while shaking your head. Perhaps it was a coincidence. Perhaps, that Hermes boy knew the song and it was also one of his favorites. Perhaps—

Your hand started trembling around the paper. Your eyes landed on one small detail in the note: a particular handwriting choice. The rest of it matched with previous notes, but there was one singular scribbling feature you’ve never seen used before. 

Everything came crashing down and your internal eternal cycle of excuses and denial shattered.

You ran. It didn’t matter that it was raining and your attire was getting soaked. It didn’t matter at all because you were frustrated and confused. In other instances, you would have been elated at the possibility of mutual affection, but in that moment, exasperation blinded you from sensibility. 

If what you have concluded was true, then why on Earth would he allow you to go on a date with a person who stole credit for things they didn’t do? This whole time, he made you feel like a fool — for waiting that long and having hope after all that time; for asking the person you were looking for to hunt them down with you; for sulking despite having what you thought was a good opportunity to come along; for borderline going on a date with an imposter; and for not seeing it all along that it was him. 

“It’s you, isn’t it?” you called out.

Despite the rain, you could see your best friend’s figure stiffened before turning around to face you. The boy stood with his hands behind his back, not yet daring to look at you. 

“The “th”. You connected the cross in the ‘t’ directly to the ‘h’,” you presented the note in your hand, pointing specifically at the slip up that Luke had made in the latest note, not caring of the raindrops that were hitting the paper. “It’s how I write it, and you started writing it the same way a year after we got to know each other because you liked the way it looked,” you pressed further.

The expression on Luke’s face painted your theory into the truth of the situation. You felt your hand slightly shaking at the revelation.

“Why? You left anonymous gifts and notes and watched me put on this hunt — which by the way, was for you. And didn’t even say anything when a guy lied and said he was my secret admirer? Is this one big cruel prank?”

“No—”

“Oh! Well then, surely at one point in this whole thing, you felt like you should just tell me?” 

“I was going to.”

“Then where were you when I was just about to head out with that fraud? Maybe if you really liked me and really cared for me, like all those damn notes say, you would have fought for m—”

“I did,” Luke finally raised his voice, his face briefly hardened in an attempt to convey his desperation. His chest heaved, and the way it did almost made you think the anger radiating off every inch of his skin right then was directed towards you. But it wasn’t, and he knew you knew. 

“I confronted him right after he claimed that he was the one who gave you all those things.” 

Invisible ivies rooted your foot to the ground. You gulped, trying to digest the information you were given. However, it finally sunk in when Luke’s hands appeared from behind his back. It was then that you could see the bandage wrapped around his knuckles. Your breath hiccuped in both flattery and worry at the implication of what he had done. The darkness behind those deep hazel-brown orbs reflected a certain side of your best friend that you hadn’t seen before. Although, part of you felt like you wouldn’t mind it.

It made Luke’s blood boil knowing what he dedicated to you from the bottom of his heart was spoiled by ill intentions. Luke should have known better than to carelessly write all the letters and craft those gifts right on his bunk bed, rather than discreetly. 

Once again, the Hermes cabin counselor was pulled back to memories from an hour ago. The way the other boy shot remarks at Luke’s lack of precautions, boasting his wrong-doings like someone incapable of having a guilty conscience. Luke's jaw tightened as the image of the sly smirk on the other Hermes boy's face flashed in his mind, but a wave of satisfaction ran through him as he recalled how quickly that smirk was wiped away by his own fist.

They might be brothers by a fraction, but blood or not, that boy was dead to Luke the second he tried tricking you.

“And no, I wouldn’t have let you go out with a fraudster. Never,” Luke’s eyes softened. “And in case it’s not implied enough: I like you…a lot. I was going to confess but then this guy came along lying,” Luke could feel that tremor returning once more to his fist. He hated that something he built, from scratch, on the foundation of sincerity was momentarily tainted by the hands of a spineless liar. Not only that, he hated witnessing somebody so dear to him getting deceived in such a tasteless manner.

“I also…didn’t want to get hurt. It was starting to seem like you would ever consider me as more than just a friend with the way you were listing out all these other guys. So for a bit there I was considering just keeping quiet…forever” he confessed, eyes now straying away from you and down to his shoes.

You observed your best friend through a new perspective. So your initial suspicions were true. You had thought it was him because all the things you have received hinted to somebody who knew you so well, and who else at camp but Luke knew this many things about you. But ultimately, another part of you — the proclaimed “logical” side — has hyper-analyzed every split second you two have shared and deemed that Luke has not given any true signs of interest in you beyond as a friend. Thus, you dismissed the thought of Luke being your secret admirer.

You know now to trust your gut feelings more.

“Oh, Luke Castellan, you dumb ass…” you spoke softly underneath your breath, but you knew he heard you perfectly clearly from the way he slightly peered up. Your heart almost shattered at the dejected look on your best friend’s face and the thought of him burying his feelings eternally. You sure as hell would not allow that to be this timeline.

“I’ve liked you ever since the day you went out of your way and gave me that first cassette tape,” the marveled look on Luke’s face over your confession made you continue, “I guess I should have known it was you…cause gift giving has always been your love language.” It seemed like the boy was too stunned and struck frozen. However, his shell-shock state didn’t last long, because soon, your best friend’s gaze reverted back to the way he has always looked at you, only slightly more intense.

Your eyes fluttered at the sight of Luke Castellan in front of you at that moment. You were finally able to see the effect you’ve always had on him. The way his lips hung slightly agape, eyes dilated in such a way you were no longer able to see their usual color anymore, chest slightly heaving despite lack of physical reasons for such a reaction. You almost wanted to hit yourself for being such a fool and not spotting these details sooner. 

“Now, Castellan…you have two options,” you stepped closer to him, leaving an appropriate amount of personal space in between. “You either kiss me or—”

Luke grabbed your wrist with his uninjured hand and pulled you in. The same hand-guided your arms around his neck while also effectively eliminating the remaining distance between you two. 

Without hesitation, he kissed you.

Likewise, you returned the action without a second thought. You frankly didn’t care about the rain that was soaking the both of you. Kissing Luke felt like such a natural act that it felt simply like diving home. The way he held you made you feel like you were a national treasure he was so afraid of losing. Gods, you don’t think you mind doing this ever so often.

Though, there was a certain urgency in the way Luke kissed you, as if afraid you’d either vanish or you’d change your mind. You pressed your lips harder against his, hoping he’d understand you didn’t intend on leaving or having a change of heart.

A grunt escaped his throat as you kissed him harder. Oh, Luke Castellan already knew he was in immense trouble. He knew almost immediately that the concerning number of thoughts he had about you each day would only increase tenfold from this day on. He wondered if you could taste all of his unspoken words. If kissing you felt like this, he might as well sign away his heart, body, and mind to you. In fact, he’d sign anything you put in front of him without even considering the fine prints. 

Luke slowly backed you against a tree, giving you a bit of support to lean against whilst shielding the both of you from the heavy rain. He smiled into the kiss as you hummed at his action, feeling it echo against his lips. His heart tugged, almost leaping out of his chest when your hands made their way to both sides of his face, cupping it intently like holding something yours. Yours. Fuck, he loved the sound of that. 

You were the first to break the kiss. The both of you gasped for air while maintaining eye contact. The close-up view of his intense gaze drove your cheeks rosy. You could not help but admire the way his locks of wet curly hair clung onto his forehead, while raindrops fell from his face, some following the length of his eyelashes before falling — Oh, the way he glanced down at your lips at that second made you feel almost like you had the power to convince him into anything at the moment. 

“You’re my best friend…” he broke the silence.

“Mhm.”

“...but what if I want you to be more than that?”

“I can be both,” Luke’s lips broke out into a smile, and you mirrored his facial expression. He leaned his forehead against yours whilst softly rubbing his thumb soothingly against your waist.

“I’m not against that.” 

As a larger grin broke out on your lips, Luke’s eyes further softened. He realized right there and then that anything you wanted, he would not be against it. A breath of relief quietly escaped beneath Luke’s breath. He could not wait for whatever was in store for the both of you in the future.

Good thing his messages in a bottle did get to you.

-------------------------

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[tiredsmashbros]

SMG34: LIPBITE COMIC WIP UPDATE

oh boy... i know a bunch of folks are hyped for this comic... and boy oh boy are ya'll's prayers going to be heard... kind of... butt for the celebration milestone, and granted majority are from this comic, i thought it was best to give EVERYTHING that i have currently.

starting off STRONG with what you freaks most want: the completed pages. andddd yep that's it that all that i have done LMAO. i've been fixated on my own smg4 oc: tsb, and during the end of my summer was unfortunately fucked over by some personal issues that fortunately got resolved last minute good grief the anxiety prevented me from drawing the gays sigh... aNYWAYS LINEART WIPS!!!!

here are linearts i have completed / in the progress of!! want to aim like i did in the past by finishing up lineart first, and then speed through with color + minor rendering. the reason i have a few colored is to test out what it would look polished and my god... i have improved A LOT. THESE GAY PEOPLE GIVE POWER I AM NOT KIDDING BELIEVE ME IM NOT CRAY- anyways onto wip pages!

jumpscare: tsb stickman sketches. oh yeah. this is how i sketch and i blame sensei eiichiro oda /j. and in case anyone is unable to understand it {i don't blame u LMAO}, smg4 wakes up from the dream and is startled to see mario by his bed. they have a short convo before mario leaves, and we get a job to smg4 in the bathroom trying to put up a brave face. until the moment he leaves he's stunned due to seeing smg3 at his front door. will i elaborate more on specifics or unwritten dialogue? NOPE! gotta keep secrets to make it even more enjoyable at the end!!

currently at 13 sketched pages total, but this is probably gonna be reaching towards 20-ish pages, surpassing part two, but it will depend on how i come up with how to end it. additionally to confirm there will be a PART FOUR / chapter 3, to end this story. my goal is to have it done before i finish my senior year, or at least during the summer after i graduate bc good lord who knows whats gonna happen.

and lastly, before i end this crazy update, SCRAPPED PAGESSS!!!!!

CONTENT WARNING : NSFW SKETCHES !!!! PLEASE LOOK AWAY IF YOU ARE A MINOR OR DON'T LIKE THIS TYPE OF STUFF!!!

oh boy... dont draw comics while sleep-deprived at 6am... idek what i was even aiming with this ngl other than just for fun, but i scrapped it due to not being what i had in mind for the story. if it doesn't serve a purpose or narrative, its bye bye YEAH BYE BYE THIS IS THE CLOSEST NSFW UR GONNA GET FROM ME HAHAHAHAHA- i say that despite writing a nsfw jojo wattpad smh im only confident doing it in words good lord. btw not watermarking these bc i gen don't care since they're legit scrapped {left top part was kept and completed} so idk what to do with these. im just throwing it and walkin away

now to end with this update, i can hear your question, "when will this be done?" and to answer that question: i'm not entirely sure due to my heavy focus on my smg4 oc: tsb, but my best chance is postponing my oc lore a bit and complete this before november UOIYGJDSIUHJKDWSXYUGHJKCS but we shall have too see...

if you want to join the ping list comment on this post LMAO [click]

ignore below if you're not from the tsb birthday partydddjdhdhdjd

...

...

...

thurs: smg34 is canon in the tsb universe / au. though most of their encounters are platonic or best-friendy-way, they eventually express their feelings to one another and start dating 3/4’s way of the tsb storyline arc. tsb is a supporter of his friend's relationship and admires and takes inspiration from their relationship heavily to input his future love life. yearning to be in a similar position... to learn what is to really love someone... or what it's truly like to be loved...

[lovrsm]

“ꜱʟᴜᴛ!”

sum: Ferraris golden boy moves over to RedBull Racing Team.

Daughter of the CEO of Red Bull, you’ve grown to love racing, and in the way making new friends. Even if you felt like your world was falling apart, even when you denied it, he was the only one you needed. And there was absolutely nothing that could change his mind about your beautiful self, the way he loves you.

word count:idk, prb 2k

pairing: rb!charles leclerc x horner!reader

warnings: name calling, alcohol, smut f! receiving, first time writing real horny shit!

a/n: sorry for the long intro, I swear it’s worth it😔✋ LOOOL, I WROTE THIS LIKE A YEAR AGOO, and I rlly wanted to clear up my drafts but this is too good to not come out. Yet idk if I have any mistakes, if I do let me know!! Also, checo acting as a dad (#IloveCheco)

Spotify - Apple Music

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

“and I break down, then he’s pullin’ me in In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman”

Clink, clink, that’s what our champagne glasses sounded like together.

“Congratulations, what a wonderful year. It’s been a pleasure being with all of you.” Sergio, Checo Perez, made a brief goodbye to your team.

He was leaving Red Bull. Everyone here loved him, and loves him, including yourself. He became quickly your family after seeing him every day for more than 3 years.

“We will miss you” your dad palms his back, making Checo break a smile.

“It isn’t the end yet, you know that boss.” He laughed.

His reasons? Family, everything for him, he couldn’t bare leaving them anymore alone, so he decided after, several years, to leave formula 1. After helping Max to win his championships, he is a fucking legend.

“Well, I won’t leave you alone, I will still drag you everywhere, you know? Even after you leave.” Max and Checo have developed a very special bond, even if social media said otherwise.

“We, wont leave you alone, you still owe me those therapy sessions” I winked at him, he became a very big emotional support for me, believe it or not, he’s got some great advice to give.

“Lovely dinner” I took a picture of all of us with my camera, a goodbye dinner for Checo, and tomorrow, all of the world would see this on the newspaper.

-

“I really don’t know what to do, do you know how many drivers have reached us out in the last 2 hours? I mean, I have a few options but they keep giving me more reasons and… I just don’t know.” My dad was stressed, typing in his computer as if his life depended on it.

“It’s going to be alright, okey? You don’t necessarily need to worry about it right now, we still have a championship to win, you know?” I gave him a cup of tea, just so he could relax a bit.

When something is about work, everything else doesn’t matter. At all.

“We’ll watch your options, alright? I can help you with anything you want” I smiled at him.

“When did you became such a great business woman?”

“You’re my father, of course I’m hardworking.”

-

“Red Bull did it again, Max Verstappen and Sergio Perez, world champion and sub-champion!”

Screams from Max and Checo blasted my ears, P1 and P2, again. Absolutely no mistakes. The internet going crazy. And somehow it all became quiet.

“Who will get that Red Bull seat next year? Will he be a fit to Sergio Perez place?”

Everyone went outside to celebrate, while I stayed so I could hear the TV and media.

what do people want?

“Ferrari didn’t have a great year, let’s hope they both get a better car”

“I agree! Great drivers, such a shame Ferrari has been getting worse every year. What a waste of talent.” The other interviewer said.

Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz appeared in the screen. Both with an obvious forced smile plastered in their faces.

Charles, my secret crush ever since… forever. Was I obvious? Not a single soul knew, well, except him.

-

Charles Leclerc signed in RedBull that was the only thing appearing on my feed right now . Red bull? Bullshit, you mean? What kind of a big lie is that?

Internet was filled with Charles leaving Ferrari for RedBull.

In what twisted universe does that even happen?

I later learned, I am living in that twisted world, and I discovered the great news in social media, and not my own team.

“What do you mean Charles Leclerc, dad? Why wasn’t I even informed about this. Wait, hold on, when did it even crossed your mind?!” I was dignified.

Following around the kitchen.

“I didn’t have to, oh, I do think I need to tell you this, he’s coming to dinner tonight so wear something nice.”

Wear something nice.

Thanks dad, as always, you’re so, so great.

Night time came sooner than expected, if my dad hosts a dinner, even if there’s a million, or just one person coming over, he likes to be extra.

-

Almost time, 8:00 and it is 7:50, all that was missing was the dress. It was placed on my bed. Showing all of it’s beauty.

Navy blue, our color. It was my dream dress.

Light, silky and fancy dress.

I walked downstairs, watching people running and arranging everything, doing just the final touches.

I’ve come to learn, that people arrive late, or just in time. Never earlier.

“Ah, what a beautiful young woman I have here!” Geri, my father’s wife came to greet me.

“You look amazing, I knew that dress would be perfect for you!”

“Geri, you are amazing, seriously. Thank you, and look at you! We both look gorgeous.” I smiled at her and we linked arms, she and I were walking towards the garden, where would be the dinner.

Some big, round, wooden tables were set in the middle. Each seat would have a name, decorated with a white flower in the middle of the plate.

It was easy to find my place. I was at the biggest one of all, where the most important people of this night would be seated.

Lucky for me, his name was right next to my plate.

In a matter of seconds, people started to arrive, old friends, and new faces passed through those doors.

This will be a great night.

“Funny to find you here, it’s been some time since I last saw you…” I rolled my eyes, I (sadly) recognized that voice anywhere.

“Go away Mike.” I grabbed my wine glass and took a big sip out of it. “C’mon princess, where are your manners?” He got too close to me.

“Hey y/n! Your dad was looking for you, like right now.” Max Verstappen here to save my day.

“Oooh that’s unfortunate, I’m so so so sorry Mike, hope to see you later!” I waved him off and quickly moved towards Max who then friendly linked his arm with mine.

“I owe you one.” I sighed. “You owe me much more than 1, little one.” I laughed at him.

We got close to my father, who now had a microphone at his hand.

“Hello everyone, thank you for coming here and be with us tonight. A toast for Checo here!” He announced and a light was shining on Checo, standing from his seat.

“It has been a wonderful year, sadly it has to end. And I know I’m not the first to tell you that an incredible young talent will be joining us for next season.”

There he was. Navy suit with our logo on him. His hair was messy yet perfectly placed. He showed his dimples and I’m sure I heard someone behind me moan at his sight.

My heart rate was increasing slowly but surely.

“y/n, you’re going to squeeze all my blood from my arm. Stop.” Max whispered in my ear.

Shit. I basically dug my nails into his arm due to my tiny crush.

“Yeah, It’s amazing to know that I’m to race with RedBull next year. I hope we can achieve everything we’ve dreamed of. Looking forward to race with my lifetime partner, Max here.”

Now the light was on Max and me. I discreetly let go of max so that he could have the spotlight. As Max waved I looked back at Charles.

The dimples in his face showed even more, he was looking at me too.

“I can’t wait to work with these wonderful people, and I hope we have a great year to remember, thank you and enjoy this night!” He raised his glass and so did all.

“Well, I hope we don’t have any inchidents” Max laughed at his own joke. Dad joke I must say.

“Well If you don’t push me off the track I think we’ll be just fine” his voice gave me chills. I felt his chest on my back.

I wasn’t strong enough to turn around.

“Oh, shoot, you hear that? I think P is calling me!”

“No, Max-” I tried to stop him.

Around Charles, I barely have control over myself.

“Uh-huh, yeah that’s P, she wants to go to the bathroom, and she needs food, ok have a great night bye!” He rushed to god knows where.

“You really don’t want to be with me, do you?” He whispered on my ear. Feeling the heat of his breath.

“Why wouldn’t I? You are such a lovely company, mr Leclerc.” I gathered the strength and turned around, and his beautiful green eyes shined at me, making me blush.

“Look at you, could you get any more beautiful?”

He lowered so he could whisper again. “I’ve missed you” I looked around real quick, thankfully Max took everyone’s attention on the other side of the place.

“Not here, Charles.” I whimpered.

“Yes here, I can finally be with you, do you think I would waste any more time pretending to not love you? If you do, let me tell you, you are completely wrong.”

He kept whispering, his hands slowly finding his way to my hips. And mine to his collarbone.

“It’s not even 9pm, Leclerc, this party hasn’t even started” I fighted against my own will to drag him upstairs.

“You know I’ll wait, just for you.” He winked at me, before slowly letting me go and walking away.

“You’re not coming, mon coeur?” Charles turned around to look at me. “If you insist.” I happily walked by his side.

We walked and talked for a few minutes before Mike magically appeared before us.

“Oh not even 5 seconds and you are already like a slut with the new driver” He looked at me with a disgusted face.

“Excuse her? Don’t tall to her like that. Do we even know you?” Charles used a very cold tone on him. And Mike started to stumble on his word.

“Uhm, no, she does, like I was something to her-”

“Was, that’s a key word, pal. Don’t you ever talk to her, no, don’t you ever talk to any woman that way do you understand?”

Now, I can defend myself just fine, but that right there soaked my pants in an unexplainable way.

“Get out of our sight, man.” And he crawled away.

“That was hot.” I whispered and he blushed. “Your mother did raise a gentleman.” I smiled at him and he gave me a cheek kiss.

-

Lost on the moonlit pool, drinking my… 11th (?) glass of wine at 1 in the morning while everyone was still dancing, was weird.

My feet swinging as I drink the last drop of my glass.

I went on a side quest myself just to get distracted for a bit. All the noise was going to hurt my ears if I stayed any longer.

“Here you are, you got lost?” He sat down at my side. Didn’t have to look, his thick accent gave him away immediately.

I took a long breath and rested my head on his shoulder . “Yes, Charles, I’m going to get lost in my own house.” I felt him move beside me. He then had his feet in the pool, just as I did.

I smiled to myself.

“Has anyone told you just how beautiful you look today?”

“You have, more than once.”

“I couldn’t let that slip, you do look beautiful with that dress. It suits you just perfectly.”

He paused.

“But I bet you’d look much better without it.”

I nervously chuckled at his comment.

“You haven’t talked to me in ages, you came back being a driver for my father, and now you want to have sex? Why don’t you already make me your wife?!” I dramatically fell into his arms

“Ages? I talked to you last week!” He showed his teeth to me in a smile. “That was a long time ago! Besides, you never told me about you and RedBull.” I sit straight up again.

“I needed your dad to love me one way or another. How else am I going to get him to approve of our marriage?” He joked.

“You are unbelievable Leclerc.” I stood up, and grabbed my high-heels on my hand, walking back to the party barefoot.

I surrounded part of the pool, my dad wanted to add a bar right beside it, and it was freshly cemented.

He quickly copied my moves, but instead, he went on a straight line to me, and in a step he covered his feet in cement, falling down and thankfully placing his hands before getting worse.

“Shit!” I ran back to help him. I stupidly placed my hand in the cement, the other helping Charles to get up.

“Look, we made a masterpiece! Your handprints and mine in wet cement.”

“And your feet.” I laughed

“And my feet… I really need to wash this off before it gets dry.” I grabbed his hand and he followed my lead.

If my dad sees that I’m getting his new driver to my room…

We rushed through the multitude of people on the garden.

“Ooh we’re going to your bedroom, can’t remember what happened last time there…” he whispered shouted as we were running up the stairs.

I jokingly rolled my eyes at him. We were giggling like children. He kept making dirty jokes and as much as I tried to control myself I’d end up giggling much more.

We got there quicker than I thought. With my clean hand I closed the door and he was already in my bathroom washing his hands, and feet with water. I ran to his side and did the same with my left hand.

“I’m done” I announced and got out of the bathroom. Deciding to do a touch up for my makeup, thankfully nothing was much out of place, but my lipstick faded.

I slowly applied it looking in the mirror, and through it I saw a curious Charles looking at me. “Why do you even apply lipstick?” He slowly walked towards me.

I took my sweet time spreading the color on my lips.

“Cause we are going back, party is not over.”

“But we don’t need to.” He grabbed me by the waist and turned me around to look at him and he swiftly placed me on the desk. A smirk plastered on his face, as he slowly got on his knees.

“Charles…”

He got to his knees, not breaking eye contact with me.

“You know that if you say no, I won’t do anything. But I’m not hearing those words, am I?” He lifted my dress planted wet kisses on my inner thighs, getting closer to my sweet spot. “You’re so fucking wet”.

“They will know we’re gone” I nervously whispered. He looked into my eyes and stopped, his hot breath making me squirm. “That isn’t a no.” He stood his ground.

And I’m not saying “do it anyway”, but we both know he is going to.

I didn’t even have a chance to think about the cons, his tongue was already doing its job.My legs were closing due to the pleasure, but his strong arms kept them wide open while he drew circles with his thumbs.

“Charles…” he hummed in response, sending me shivers all the way up. He kept licking my folds and as I looked down, he had his shiny green eyes looking at me. A hint of darkness in them that made me moan just at sight.

His head between my legs was surely what heaven looked like.

I curved my back and my hand gripping his hair so he could get closer. He groaned and sucked even harder.

“Fuck, you’re such a good boy, I missed this.” His hand moved quickly into me, curling his two fingers finding my g spot. “Fuck, Charles!” I screamed his name while cumming all over him, his tongue taking all off of me, as he rose without slowly moving his fingers again. My hips rocking back and forth as he arose, keeping his hand busy. “Too bad that pretty mouth of yours can’t do much right now. I really would love to feel it sucking my dick.” I hummed imagining it and getting even closer to my second climax.

“I'll take care of you, just so my princess can remember who she belongs with.” His lips were on my neck, whispering sweet nothing between kisses and soft biting. My moans filled the whole room along with the sound of his fingers working on her center.

Charles, Charles, Charles…

Each time his name left your mouth his cock got even harder, to the point where it hurt. In a short motion his pants down and without any warning he thrusted into you. You both let out a pornographic scream. If the music wasn’t loud everyone would have heard you two. The sound of your slaps were evident, heat rising, the feeling of his beard in your neck was all too much. Curses along with moans were the only thing louder. He did a final thrust and immediately pulled out, jerking off and finishing in his hand.

“You just washed your hands.” I joked breathlessly, he messed up with my head real bad. “Couldn’t resist” he smiled, gave me a peck and disappeared into the bathroom. I melted on that spot.

“Come on mon coeur.” What I loved about Charles was that he always cared. we got into the bathroom and I washed my hands, in the reflection of the mirror his eyes were already in mine.

“What?” I asked as the blood rushed into my cheeks. “Nothing.” He gently smiled, and his eyes shined to me in a different shade of green.

-

Taglist

@delicatepeanutsublime @ironspdy @architect-2015 @buendiabebeta @dreamergirlatpaddock @lercvlie

[carmenized-onions]

Loosen Your Grip. | R & D

logline; even when it seems counter-intuitive.

[!!!] series history; so many parts, so many words.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. 8 hour mark officially! Lets go!

portion; 15k knowing the next chapters, this trend isn't going to change. they have started to line up with the chapter number, to my chagrin.

possible allergies; i think this one is relatively harmless? Stress though. Everyone's stressed. Idk what to tell you man, it's the bear. oh but more things were yoinked from Season 3!! Think that's just gonna be ongoing tbh. also if this is bad don't tell me. tell me it's really good, actually. i've never doubted a chapter more than I do this one.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader it's so fem. it's so she/her'd it's so girl'd i'm so sorry

kofi; if you’ve enjoyed the series, perhaps you wanna tip!

i'm so sorry for the delays beloveds, can you say 'most high stress but high reward month and a half of my life'? i can!!!

The Monday morning after New York— The first morning waking up in your own bed in a day or two— Comes rudely. Well, not immediately. First you have to roll over and grab aimlessly at your nightstand, searching for your phone to turn off your alarm. Through blurred vision you slide it to snooze, and as you debate going back to bed, your eyes glaze over some texts you’ve received in your sleep, from numbers you never bothered to put in your contacts. It takes a minute to absorb the information and register it as real, but once you do—

“...Are you fucking kidding me?!” 

—You’re definitely not gonna be heading back to bed anymore. You’re wide-eyed and wired— You can probably skip coffee this morning. Maybe every morning forever.

“Oh— I fucking hate this fucking city, I fucking hate Chicago— Fuck this!” 

In lieu of coming to terms with your world shattering news, perhaps this is an important moment to express gratitude, for the things that have gone well in the past few days. 

The rest of the weekend in New York was as lovely as a last-minute trip in a cramped car full of kitchen equipment and four neurotics can be.

Gratitude. Highlight reel?

There’s a bag M and Ms monogrammed with Syd’s, Richie’s, Carmy’s, and your faces in your pantry now. Eva shouldn’t be the only one allowed to have fun. Though snacking on all your cute little faces does make you feel like a slight monster.

Managed to get a good gift for Richie. Thank you Tiffanys. It was certainly an interesting moment when everyone tried to come up with lame excuses as to why they had to split up from the group to definitely totally not go get Christmas presents.

 Carmen’s knife guy wasn’t able to do engravings on such short notice, and you’re not the type to settle for less, especially not with Syd, so that’ll be a next year gift, it seems. You came up with a serviceable back-up while strolling through the MET— Which was a mostly fun field trip, it was very inspiring. You all could've done without Richie's pretentious prattling about postmodern absurdist dadaism. Mostly because you're pretty sure half of it was wrong; but still a good trip, all told.

Still lost on what to get Carmen… You’ve got a week, it’s fine. You’ve done more with less before. How do you subtly ask a guy, ‘hey, what the hell else do you like besides your job?’ You’ll figure it out. Figure it out like you figure out everything else, like you always do. Hopefully.

It's Monday. You've got a week. It's fine. Stop looking at your phone. This is such bad timing. This is awful fucking timing. You’ll figure it out. Stop looking at your phone, stop looking at the texts. Do the Connections, send it to Carmy, he already sent his, be normal… Just such bad timing—

At the very least if you can't bear to look away from the life ruining texts, just shut your phone off. You’ve got to stop ruminating or you’ll rot in bed forever. And you really have to get out on time, today. 

“God wants me to kill myself—” Gratitude. Express gratitude.

The drive back went ‘well’. Everyone had their licenses so the squad took shifts either driving or sitting on the uncomfortable console. Or, in your case specifically, sitting half on Carmen’s lap in shotgun on occasion despite the many complaints from Syd and Richie. You had a good excuse! Neither of you slept for the entire trip just to work on the cocktail and coffee menu. It was practically a sacrifice! It was just easier to sit up front together, okay!? You had to be close, you were scribbling ratios and drawings of glasses into a stolen notepad from the Holiday Inn with pencil crayons bought from FAO Schwarz—

Oh, hey, put that on the gratitude scoreboard, that was another thing that went well. Pretty cool to go to the oldest toy store in America. Might not have gotten the chef in your life anything yet, but the kids in your life are covered— You’re winning best Aunt for sure.

Oh, huge highlight— Didn’t say love you, like some idiot. Got away with that by the skin of your teeth, honestly. Hard to stare up at the Rockefeller Christmas Tree next to the guy and not blurt out something fucking stupid. Thank God for Syd, who stomped on your foot when you seemed a little too doe eyed.

With great pain and bemoaning, you finish expressing gratitude, which hasn’t helped much. You slam your phone screen down on your nightstand and roll out of bed. 

Today’s Monday. Today’s your first day at The Bear. Today that is the priority and there is nothing else to worry about.

You signed your contract last night. Talked to Syd for hours about it, planning next steps and goals and classes and budgets and a million other things. You’re both a little easily excitable, when it comes to lists and plans. Watching you sign yours gave her the ‘confidence’ to sign hers, if you can call it that. Not like you knew she needed the help, though.

“I love my life, I love my life, I love my life…” If you keep saying it while washing your face in the bathroom, it’ll become true, right? …Where’s Sara’s card again?

The Bear doesn’t run service on Mondays, so it’s a good day to do onboarding— Good day to do R and D. …What does one wear to R and D? Don’t need the serving uniform. Don’t need to dress up. Don’t need the jumpsuit… This is the first time you don’t need a uniform and that is bizarre.

You’ll wear your dad’s flannel, at least. Feels illegal to not wear the patch worked flannel. But besides that, you’re just a normal… restaurateur… part of the team…

Your hand hovers over where your necklace sits, in the small jewellery box on your vanity. “Mikey, if you want me to keep wearing it, make my ceiling cave in or some shit.”

You give it ten seconds and nothing falls. With a curt nod to no one, you pick up your book bag filled with loose tools and the menu filled notepad. Leave your bedroom, put your shoes on, grab your keys out of your clay dish tray on the way out.

It’s snowing.

That’s a lot of stuff falling, so to speak.

That’s basically a sign. That’s basically what you asked for.

You head back in, grab the necklace, hook it over your neck, and tuck it under your shirt. Baby steps. You head back out.

…And then soon after, head back in— Forgetting one of the most important things you need today. “The fucking glass, goddamn it!”

There’s a chance that today might be a little bit of an off day for you. No one’s gonna notice that, though.

“Mikey, why didn’t you tell me? You want me to look stupid on my start day, don't you? Fucker.”

You’re good. You’re you. You figure shit out. You’re compartmentalising perfectly and no one’s gonna be able to tell that you’re internally scrambling to figure out where you're gonna live once your lease gets terminated.

“ ‘Sup with you?” Okay, so Tina did immediately notice upon opening the back door for you. She tries to help you with the huge sheet of plexiglass you’re carrying, but you wave her off, stumbling further inside The Bear. Thankfully it’s a slow start to the morning, so the walk way is clear for your fumbled steps.

“I got it, T, just spot me—”

“Woahwoahwoah—” But alas, immediately Carmen is rushing over, making a big deal over nothing, “Fuck are you doin?” And grabs the thick sheet of glass from you. “Wait by your car next time, why do I gotta keep tellin’ you?”

“I am very capable—” You grunt, but you’re relieved when he takes the weight off you. You nod to the table in front of expo. “Put it on the island.”

“What’s it for?” Carmy asks but he follows direction without hesitation.

“Syd’s idea.” You walk with him, sidling up to Syd who’s already stationed up on the island with what looks like way too much paperwork for Chefs. You bump her shoulder as a greeting, she bumps you back. She lifts up the stack of papers and you pick up her deli container of Coke and ice, letting Carmen slide the glass onto the table.

“Unless it’s bad—” You correct, putting the cup down and digging through the tool bag on your shoulder for the right parts. “If you hate it, then it’s my idea.”

Syd snorts next to you, putting the papers back down on top of the glass. “Nice save.”

“What’s your idea, Chef?” Carmen taps his fingers against the glass, bemused.

You finally fish out two lock hinges from your bag, gesturing to them with a little flair like you’re Vanna White as Sydney explains. “For R and D. Thought since we’re like— Constantly changing shit and needing to review, it’d be like, useful to have a whiteboard— But those are huge and inconvenient for a restaurant— Duh— So—”

“Glass!” You come in with the assist as she rambles on. “On hinges— These one’s lock so you can have the glass sort of tilted up like an easel, or on the station— And then when you start service you can just flip it down off the counter for the night. Easy!”

“And—And—” Like a TV ad, Syd points out, “We can put paper under it and still be able to see— So it’ll make editing clearer— I-I think.”

Carmen always takes a nerve-wracking amount of time to think through other’s ideas, but once he nods, you both breathe easy. “Smart idea. Thank you, Chefs.”

You just smile, and this seems to bother Carm. Or at the very least, something is bothering him, as he frowns. “You got a second?”

Your brows furrow, for a moment, worried. You nod, putting your tools down. Glass can wait. “Always.”

Carmen comes around the counter, before he pulls you aside, Syd whispers over your shoulder, “Trouble in paradise.” Making you snort. When has it ever been paradise?

The two of you lean across from each other in the doorway of Carmen’s office, not quite in, not quite out. He looks worried, and his worrying is making you worry. He’s first to say something, concerned hand on your shoulder.

“Are you good?”

Fuck, he caught you too? “Hmm? Yeah, I’m good, do I not—”

You’re halfway through your response when he interrupts, he seems even more panicked by your words. His hand abandons your shoulder. “Right— Stupid, stupid fucking question— I just— Sorry—”

“Woah—” You grip both his shoulders, rubbing down his sleeves lightly. “Are you good, Carmy? You’re right, sweets. You caught me. I’m a lil’ off today. What gave me away?”

“Right, yes— You’re nice.” He’s saying it more to himself than you, like he needs to remind himself. Even so, it still hitches your heartbeat. “I— I’m good, I was just—You didn’t text me back this morning.”

“Oh.” You say it so breathlessly, with relief. It’s cute that that’s what’s got him freaking. “Sorry, yeah, I’ve been trying to not look at my phone, I just got some…” You shake your hand in the air for effect. “Bleh news. Put a wrench in some things for me, that’s all.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Ah—” You shake your head, waving it off, “Too much to get into. Later, though?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whenever you want.” He nods. “Ah, I wanna get into uhm—” Carmen snaps his fingers a few times, finding the words. “Get into drinks, today. I made all the concentrates and syrups ahead of time—But Uncles gonna come in first with The Computer to go over some numbers shit— Should be here in thirty?”

You nod, squinting. “Is it like… A special computer or something?”

“Computer is a guy.” Carmen says, while Syd yells the same in tandem with him, “Why wouldn’t he be!?” Walking past you both as she carries produce out of the walk-in.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” You grin, reiterating. Your smile soon sobers though, as you finally notice a giant silver blob of machinery behind Carmen. “Baby, what the fuck is that?” 

You’re already walking past him, quickly winding up all over again. It’s a gorgeous espresso machine— “It’s an Ascaso.” Explains Carmen. “It’s the best.” And it’s sitting exactly where your beautiful beat up mistake of a heavily-stained coffee machine used to be. 

“Baby, baby, baby—” you’re looking above and below the station for your rusted companion, hushed and panicked. “Don’t tell me you threw away the old one—” 

“You want the old one?”

Richie’s timing is perfect, as he walks in from front of house, and even from just hearing the last sentence, “Fuckin’ told you, Carm.” He knows the context. He keeps walking— On a mission, seemingly.

“I’m grateful— I- I am.” You kneel down and shove some mixing bowls aside to see if it was tucked in the back of some shelf— It’s not here. She’s not here. “New is good— New is nice— I’ll learn how to use the new one— I will— But— I— I need the old one— You didn’t throw it away, did you?” 

When he stays silent, you turn and look up to Carmen from where you’re crouched on the ground, pleading. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I— I—” The Chef is nearly sweating from this line of questioning alone. “It— It barely worked—”

“I know it didn’t! That’s the point!”

He blinks. You just seem to be saying all his trigger phrases, today, huh? “That’s the point?”

“I knew how she worked.” You push yourself back up onto your feet. “It’s got an espresso function that doesn’t work, if you tamp the basket the basket literally breaks off so you have to hold it and burn your hand a little— You have to hold the hot water button at the same time as the grind button for some reason or it won’t dispense— It’s literally a fucking nightmare— I covered it in like ten sticky notes of instructions at one point and they became pointless because no one but me was willing to use it. And— And I’ve got it memorized.”

“...And you want that?”

“No one’s gonna know how to take care of her, she’s my baby!” You gesture, albeit a bit too dramatically, speaking with your hands. “If you throw her away or donate her, no one’s gonna take the time to figure it out— They’re just gonna think she’s broken but she’s not, she works! She just needs the right hand!”

A dull silence falls between you, as Carmen purses his lips, squinting. There’s an ever slight chance your ‘I’m totally fine’ facade is cracking. “...Are you sure you don’t want to talk about your thing right—” 

“I’m good!” “...Okay.” “Did you get rid of her?”

“Relax, Handy!” Carmen does not say this. 

You grimace, looking behind Carmen to see Chi-Chi yelling from around the bend, in The Beef’s corner territory. Looking over him with the blue apron calling you your least favourite nickname by far— Well, second least favourite, only to— “She’s over here, Jack-Off. More our speed than rich boy’s ack - queso bullshit…” It’s nostalgic. Bad nostalgic but nostalgic. 

He slaps the top of the machine, you and Carmen both wince as a random spigot falls off it. Chi-Chi clicks his tongue, staring at it in silence. “...Refresher would be good, though.”

You’re already walking back to your damaged darling, patting Carmen on the shoulder as a form of goodbye, he pats your hand back. You don’t get to see him smile, as he watches you get to work. “Don’t fuckin’ call me Jack-Off and don’t touch her, I’ll show you, I’ll break your hand Cheech, I swear—”

The man in question shrugs, a devilish and terrible smirk on his stupid face. “Ey, love a woman in charge. Show me the ways.” 

Even on your most off days, working with The Beef will always be second nature for you. Even when the space is significantly more cramped than it used to be. 

You rewrite directions on how to use the coffee machine while showing them to Ebra and Chi-Chi. Ebra tends not to learn new tricks, so he stops listening by the time you get to syrups. That’s fine. No one ordered syrups in their coffee at The Beef back in the day all that often either.

Mikey really shouldn’t have invested in all those syrups back then. He really only did it for you and the staff. To be fair, when he did convince regulars to try your coffee they always changed their tune. The people don’t know what they like yet. They will like this. You were his proof that that idea was true.

“You gotta toss these, Boss. Slows you down.” You overhear Cheech saying behind you. You turn to see his arm on Ebra’s shoulder, holding the small blue baskets for sandwiches in his other hand. “Just the wrapping is fine. These people are gonna throw this shit out anyways, waste of plastic.”

Cheech turns his head to you, “Right, Handy?”

“...Don’t call me Handy.” Don’t freak out about throwing the old stuff away. Don’t freak out about throwing his old stuff away. You shrug, looking at Ebra over your shoulder. “Maybe just offer them, if they ask for one?”

“Y’know what the people are asking for, babe?” Cheech sucks his teeth, pulling Ebra closer, who looks nonplussed. “They’re asking where the nearest brick is to throw through our window. This rich people shit is getting on their nerves.”

You sigh, eyes flitting to Ebra for confirmation. “Yeah?”

He shrugs, nodding. “Ninety-eight percent, Jack-Off.” Cheech and the gang have been a terrible influence. How are you going to undo this?

“C’mon, E…” You scoff, but nod as you turn around, arms crossed. Gesturing with the frother as you do. “Well, I’ll make note of that. Now back to the fuckin’ hand frother, Cheech?”

“I know how to crank it, Handy—” “I swear to fucking God—”

“Ey!” Tina comes up to your corner, smacking the back of Chi-Chi’s head with a hand towel when she does. “Don’t talk to the baby like that, clean your mouth.”

He puts one hand on the back of his head, hissing, and another up in front of him, in defense. “Ey, T, it’s all love, aright? Playing!”

“Yeah well, you’re not gonna wanna play wit’ this one. ‘Specially not now—” She nudges you, smiling that coy ‘I’m about to blow up your spot’ smile.

You grimace, attempting to interrupt her. “T, don’t—” “That she’s Jeff’s.” “—Goddamnit.”

“Oh! Oh shit!” Cheech laughs, delightfully shocked. “You finally closed on Charmin’? Congrats—” It’s a blessing and a curse that Carmen, the guy you only ever saw in photos and heard in stories that you had a very minor and not vocal crush on, is now your… boyfriend? Undetermined.

You wave a hand in his face, “Shut the fuck up—”

“So where should I send flowers?”

You hate this family. “For the record, I have not closed shit.”

“What’s closing?” Tina takes a half step back, surveying your face, it doesn’t reveal anything. “What’s that? Gramps?” She turns her question on Ebra, who shrugs, equally as old and unknowing. 

“Well Jack-Off’s a little Mother Mary for my taste—”

You scoff, “So not true, for the record—” but Chi-Chi continues his tirade. “So I suspect she just means they haven't had the ‘are we datey-wating carmy baby?’ talk.”

You all but growl, crossing your arms as you wait for the second tutorial coffee to finish dispensing from the beloved whirring machine behind you. You can get the fuck out of here as soon as it’s done, and you’re praying that’s soon, because this interrogation is about to turn terrible. “We are currently unlabelled, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

Tina kisses her teeth, poking at your shoulder. “Richie told me you spent the whole wedding together and you come back with no label?”

You sigh, composure falling apart. You are not ready for a mother’s disappointment. “We talked out a lot of important stuff—” “Mija, that is important stuff!”

“I just— We’ll talk eventually—” 

Chi-Chi conveniently interrupts you when it looks like Tina’s about to go off into a full rant on the downfall of romance in modern relationships. “So you’re still on the market, Handy?”

“For you?” You smile, then drop it. Pushing your hand against his forehead. “Never. Now froth the fucking milk.”

He mumbles an endless series of expletives, but gets to work. You give him a quick tutorial on the hand frother— You fought hard for the old machine, but you are overjoyed to see an automated steamer and frother on that Ascaso. That part is gonna be a dream. You can make so many new drinks for Carm— The menu. 

When you finish, you take the latte from Cheech to hand to Tina; and when you do, you catch her looking… off. She’s staring at the piled up diner baskets, next to the unused napkin dispensers. 

You put your hand on her shoulder, massaging it lightly. “You good, T?”

Your hand shocks her back into reality, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good, baby.” It takes her a second to remember where she is. She takes the latte, nodding. “I’m good. You good?”

“I’ve got my complaints.” You shrug. “But nothing I won’t survive.” Probably.

Tina takes a sip of her coffee, continuing to nod. She wants to dig deeper into your thing, you want to dig deeper into hers, but the painful groaning from the front of the kitchen, “And when did I fuckin’ greenlight this?” interrupts both your trains of thought. Uncle Jimmy tends to have that effect.

With a knowing nod, you walk together to the front, leaving Ebra and Cheech to continue experimenting with the coffee machine before they open their side of the restaurant. 

You watch from the sidelines as Carmen defends his choices, “The old one was shit, she was burning her hands on it. She’ll need the three groups to keep up.” and you’re able to quickly glean they’re talking about the new espresso machine.

“Okay, I hear that,” Jimmy nods, “but why the fuck did it need to be ten grand?”

“Ten?!” You can’t help but shout, you slap your hand over your mouth. Budget is none of your business. But fucking ten? You part your fingers to mumble through your hand,  “Sorry, continue.”

Carmen cares too much about your drink menu. Berzattos tend to invest too much into your special interests. Though this time, instead of syrups, and in addition to a 10k coffee machine, you see on the stainless steel table your shared sketches laid out alongside all the ingredients needed– Including the concentrates, whips, and other compounds Carmen made ahead of time for you. He’s so sweet. God, you love him. God, that’s disgusting. They have all, of course, been haphazardly shoved aside though, to make room for The Computer’s— Computer. Carmy’s nonplussed by that fact, it seems.

Jimmy gestures to you, deadpanning to Carm. “See, Chip understands the power of the dollar.”

“I’m not involved.” You add, waving your hand, it’s a terrible moment for your favouritism to shine through. Though you do enter the radius of this trainwreck of a quarterly review, kneeling down by the kitchen island to finish what you started with the plexiglass and hinges. “Ignore me, continue.”

The men stand on either side of you, as you bolt down the hinges. Carmen brushes off the dollar comment with a simple, “It’s the best.”

Why do you need the best? You think; Jimmy concurs with your brain, speaking for both of you. “Why do you need the best?”

The question seems to make no sense to Carmen. He freezes, blue-screening. “Cause—”

You duck your head under the counter at just the right moment— Or just the wrong moment? Because you don’t get to see Carmen looking down at you, then back up at his uncle. “Because.” 

You don’t see Uncle Jimmy practically roll not just his eyes but his entire body back into himself, witnessing the puppy love that is going to ruin his credit score. “Chip…”

When you slide yourself out from under the counter, Carmen puts his hand on the edge of the counter to make sure you don’t hit your head— Because you have an awful tendency to do so. You’re too focused on the way Uncle Jimmy says your name like you’re in trouble to notice though. “What’d I do?” 

“You’re you.” Jimmy grimaces, shaking his head. It’s not your fault. Not completely. “F-Y-I– Your boss just cut your bar budget by ten grand.”

“Hm.” You squint, lips in a line. “And what do I do if the budget I was planning was just ten grand?”

“Well respect yourself more than that.” Cicero scoffs, arms crossed. “Take twenty, now you’re back to ten. You’re welcome.”

“Generosity knows no bounds.” You shake your head, laughing him off as you duck your head back under the counter. “Thank you, Unc.”

“Sorry, who exactly are we giving twenty thousand?” 

“Oh fuck—” Despite Carmen’s best efforts, you still manage to bump your head on the roof of the counter, alarmed by the new voice— The Computer, you assume. “Fuckin—Ow— Sorry! Y’know what, hol’ on, let me just finish up here—”

“It’s the drink budget. Tony’s the new mixologist.” Natalie answers for you. “And sommelier.”

“Ah,” hums The Computer. “She’s the one we’re paying Quarter-Master for?”

“Nah, that’s me.” Gary strolls by, calling out to wherever his manager has gone, “Richie, you find that book yet?!”

“I’m taking them too!” You finally pop your head out from underneath the counter, finished bolting in the hinges. “Apparently I need actual W-S-E-T certification and a bunch of memorized google searches, youtube videos, and wine review blogs do not legally make you a sommelier.”

“I think it’s impressive you made it this far on basically nothing.” Syd taps the top of your head, she’s the one who made the call on schooling. She looks to her co-owner. “Classes are coming out of the advanced.”

“So is this.” You tap the plexiglass, nodding up to Carmen as well. “You’re workin’ with like… A thousand left for pre-paid work?”

“Hm.” Carmen nods, looking at The Computer, and you turn your head to him too. “Did you account for that?”

“Did I account for a thousand dollars?”

Carmen shakes his head like a white flag immediately, hearing the sarcastic tone, “Alright, you don’t—”

“A thousand dollars does not take you out of the hole, man.” He’s right, but you don’t love the tone. He tilts his head, reading something off his screen. “Payroll is a little high, for a somme.”

“I don’t disagree—” You try to say, because yeah, your contract does have a weirdly high salary.

But Jimmy, Nat, and Carm all speak over you. “It’s not.”

“That’s not pay for a somme, that’s a pay for Chip, you don’t need to enhance on that.” Jimmy deads the topic then and there. “You’ll see. Just trust me. You were sayin’ somethin about tiny plants?”

“Microgreens.” Says Syd. 

“Yes. Do less of that.”

And you just watch, from the sidelines, as this crew flows into a bit of a repetitive we’re doing this, which gains the response, well stop. Do less, charge more, figure it out, duh, don’t duh– What’s that you’re hearing about a daily changing menu? Carmen seems to be the only one campaigning for it. At a point he just starts pacing, pointing at numbers on The Computer’s screen that he doesn’t understand but pretends he does.

You’ve got a million ideas, but it’s none of your business. It very literally isn’t your business, until Jimmy turns his head just so, grimacing at the non stop debate, to see you standing aside, arms crossed.

He sighs, beckoning you to the table, like it’s a witness stand. “What’s that fuckin’ face on your face, kid?” Oh, for the love of God, why are you so easy to read?

You pfft, shrugging. “I’m not makin’ a face—!” But you come forward nonetheless as he boldly speaks over you. 

“You’re makin’ a face,” — “This is just what I look like,” — “Y’know how I know you’re makin’ a face?” — “Enlighten me.” — “Cause it’s the same fuckin’ face—”

He takes this moment to point at the face on your face. “That your dad makes.” A man that gambles as well as Cicero is a man that knows your dad’s tells. And a man that knows your dad’s tells is a man that knows your tells. 

You bite down on your inner cheek, poorly pretending to be confused, shrugging again, “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Come off it.” “I’m not on anything, Unc—” “You’ve got a problem, say it.” 

“I don’t have a problem!” You have a lot of problems, but they can’t know that. That makes you judgy and pushy— You don’t know enough about the business to have an opinion. “I’m just observing, that’s all.”

Uncle looks up, to Heaven, to Mikey, and sighs the world’s heaviest sigh. It sounds painful. When he finally tilts his head back down to you, it’s to say, “C-K.”

“Cicero.”

“Y’know why I’m able to pour mas queso into this fuckin’ kid?” He loosely gestures in the direction of Carmen, who in response seems to bite down a lot of venom. It’s bad to think he’s pretty when he’s annoyed, isn’t it?

You tilt your head, “Honestly, I always assumed some sort of mob association.”

Jimmy holds back his laughter, it comes out as a disgruntled cough. He shrugs. “It’s because when I saw your dad at the table, makin’” —He gestures to you— “That fuckin’ face, I knew to pull back.”

“You don’t need to pull back.” Your reply is a touch too panicked and instant for anyone’s liking, makes it a little less believable. But Cicero smirks, and you know that face as well as he knows yours. Check. He’s got you. 

“Then speak on it.” And he pushes you forward, just slightly, like a slap of support on your back. You grimace, looking to Carm and Syd for permission to have opinions, and they both nod, like it’s obvious. With great hesitation, lips pressed together, you finally allow yourself to come off as judgy, opinionated, a fixer. 

“I think the chargers are kinda stupid.”

A plate no one eats off of, that they still have to clean, that’s on top of another plate? Definitely super necessary. Definitely not some rich people NOMA bullshit.

You look to Syd, apologetic. She shrugs, open mouthed, head tilted, “I– I mean, I didn’t invent them.” 

“It’s presentation.” Carmen nods, to himself. He doesn’t like to budge. “That first look at the table affects everything.”

“Yes.” You nod, directly across the counter from him. “I agree, I just think the plates are stupid.” 

“You got somethin’ better?”

“Think so.” You hum, tilting your body back to yell to the back of the restaurant. “Ay, Cheech! Pass me a fuckin’ basket!” 

It’s without hesitation that you hear, “Hut!” before even seeing the man. You see the blue basket being hurled towards you before you see the man. You catch it, albeit a bit clumsy, but you catch it. 

You toss the basket on the table. Everyone stares. You defend yourself before anyone even criticizes it, “Easier to clean than plates, because you just need to rinse the plastic. Ties together a colour scheme, costs nothing, they’re gonna be tossed anyways.”

“It looks cheap.” Carmen tuts, but he really does seem to be trying to hear out the idea, despite his reservations. 

“It looks purposeful.” You double down, leaning on the counter just so, “It carries a story, that we didn’t forget where we started.”

“Ooh.” Marcus, clocking in just in time, hums behind you. “Kind of a bar, Chef.”

“Thank you, Chef. Morning, Chef.” You fist bump him over your shoulder, not looking. Too focused on convincing the man before you, you let him think in silence for some time before asking. “Think on it?”

“No.” Carmen shakes his head, and you’re a little crestfallen, for a second. “It’s good. Let’s do the baskets, yeah—” He then remembers to ask for permission, he turns his head to Syd, “Yeah?”

“Yeah? Oh, uh. Yeah. Yeah. Baskets are good.” Syd nods to Nat. “Can you look into, uh—”

“Returning the expensive as fuck earthenware shit? Happily.” Nat is far too cheery upon receiving a paperwork rabbit hole of a mission. She brushes past you, excitedly whispering, “Please keep going.”

“Oh, uh—” Are you some sort of thought leader now? “Well, uhm, I think I heard you sayin’” —You snap your fingers at The Computer, “That R and D cost is a little high?”

“A lot high.” He corrects.

“Kid with crayons.” Jimmy tuts, “Need to pull back a little.”

Carmen’s screwing and unscrewing the cap of a mason jar— Marmalade, it’s for Syd’s drink. He made it this morning, it’s labelled down to the minute.  Just let him work on his fucking drinks menu, please God. He’s been dying for this moment and it’s being thrown off by this bullshit. 

He can’t keep biting his tongue, “Hey, uh, why don’t you just tell us to do everything a little bit less so we can skip this and get back to work, huh?”

You hear Uncle Jimmy inhale as preparation to verbally beat Carmen’s ass. You put one hand up in front of the old man’s face, the other hand grabs a dry-erase marker. “He didn’t mean it like that and he apologizes, Unc.”

“Does he now?”

“He does.” You drop your hand, focusing on lifting the glass panel, clicking the locks in place to keep it up. You nod to Carmen through the pane. “Right, Carmy?”

Poor Carmen nearly deflates, “...I’m tryna be the guy.” 

“Not what the guy does, baby boy.” You hum, uncapping the marker with your teeth. You turn your head to Cicero. “Guy had a lapse, he forgot you were his boss and just thought of you as family, so he spoke to you like family, cause he loves you, Unc.”

Cicero nods, tilting his head just so at Carmen. “S’that right?”

Carm manages to shake his head and nod all at the same time, “S’a facet.” 

“....Well, just don’t do it again.” A crisis is averted and an uncle is softened. 

“I love to see a family come together.” You hum, nonchalant, writing on the glass, ‘R & D - Cost: Bad’

“Bring it from bad to good.” The Computer notes very helpfully. “You can cut—”

“Hol’ on.” You put your index finger up, effectively shushing him, “Just think about it first. We don’t have to go straight to cutting. Let’s look at our options.”

“Your options are fucked.”

“Just—” You tut, rubbing the bridge of your nose, man, you really are becoming your dad right now. Loosen your grip, Jack. “Widen the scope. We cut costs through returning those chargers— How else can we ‘return’ shit? Carmy?”

Thank God you’re the guy, because Carm can’t hack it. “Heard? Yes?” And frankly, he doesn’t want to.

“What’s the main cost on R and D?”

“Supplies. Food— Y’know, lot of trial and error.” He nods to a bus tub filled with failed attempts over this morning’s session. But you like that, right? “Trying new things, y’know?”

“...Carmen.” He doesn’t answer, because he can hear he’s in trouble. He is staring at you stare at the tub in what seems like a sort of contemplative, serene, searing anger. “Sweetheart, are those four wagyu filets in a fuckin’ bus tub?”

“Yes, it’s got a blood orange reduction, but– But Syd suggested mint—” 

You don’t let him finish, “Is it poison?”

“It’s not.” “It’s edible?” “It is.” “Okay, so then, babydoll, why is it not being eaten?”

Syd winces from the sidelines, hissing under her breath, fist over her mouth. Carmen cannot help but notice. You’re perhaps… a dash upset.

“We can’t eat everything.” “Did you offer it to the crew?” “Yeah—” “You offered it to Nat, Unc, Cheech— All the servers? Or did you just offer it to the cooks?” “...Heard.” “Did you take a bite of all of these?” “Not all.”

You start writing on the glass again, explaining as you do, “Okay. So then uneaten food from R and D should be sold on one of those fuckin’ food waste apps— Too Good to Go, or somethin’. We advertise it to The Beef regulars, try to get the other side of our city to understand the finer things, prevent any brick through window incidents, how we feel ‘bout that?”

You remember small things far too well. You did make note of the rich people shit getting on The Beef customers' nerves. You make note of the people who live on your block, who cannot afford to eat here. You make note of the fact that Carmen resents subtracting with a passion now, so you find another way. He can still try new things, just needs to handle the results better. 

“...You keep a binder or somethin?” Is all Carmen can think to ask. 

“Steel trap memory.” You tap the cap of the marker to your head, “Good though?”

He nods, “Good.”

“Good.” You take a breath, dragging a hand down your face, practically coming out of a fugue state. Carmen knows your need to have something to do, just as much as him, so he slides the jar of fig marmalade to you from across the table. You take it happily, unscrewing the lid. You’ve also been dying to get to this menu.

But Richie comes up from behind, scratch and sniff wine book in hand— Didn’t Mikey get you that? It  was meant to be a gag gift but it’s actually quite useful. “Chip, can you also tell Chef Carmen the daily menu fuckin’ sucks?”

“Re-lax.” You sigh, pulling over all the ingredients and tools you need for Syd’s drink. “Syd told me ‘bout this though, daily pre fixe, or whatever it’s called?”

“It’s—” Carmen crosses his arms over himself, immediately defensive but trying his best not to be. “It’s an idea I’m floating, for now— It’s what the best restaurants do, and— And even if we don’t have full intent on getting a star, right now, it’s still important.”

“I just think…” You hum, trying to figure out the most delicate way to say it. “It doesn’t exactly give you the most room to collaborate or create—”

“The whole point of it is to collaborate and create—”

“Oh yes,” —As if waiting in the wings for this, Richie pops out behind you again, “What wasssit? ‘Vibrant Collaboration’ and ‘Constantly Evolve Through Eating My Own Head like a fucking ouroboros’.”

“Relax.” You hiss this time, putting a hand up in front of Richie. You can speak for yourself. “You don’t have time to be creative or collaborate when you’ve gotta make decisions in less than twelve hours.”

Carmen tries to defend, he gestures to the one good plate of wagyu with mint that came out of this morning, “But the—”

You nod and hum, knowingly. The sweet sound stops him. You already know the answer, but you ask anyway, as you scoop fig marmalade into your cocktail shaker. “Did you get to try the pop rocks thing yet?”

“Well, no, it’s not viable to perfect that in such—”

“A short amount of time, angel?”

“Oooh…” Richie mimics Syd’s movements, air whistling between his teeth as he takes a sharp breath. He gestures, standing behind you, staring at Carmen as he slides his thumb across his neck. He mouths, ‘Mad mad.’

Carmen’s two closest friends are freaking him the fuck out and one of them wasn’t even doing it on purpose. How do they know that? How can they tell that? Are you gonna break up with him? Are you even dating? This work together thing was a terrible idea—

“You don’t have time to be thoughtful about things, if you do an entire menu every day, you’re gonna have to cut corners on what you’re willing to experiment with.” You reword, more productive, better for his brain. “Plus, prix fixe is a fuckin— In—In my opinion, is sort of a lacking idea, maybe, for a new restaurant.”

Carmen’s willing to give up the daily rotation, he’s not so willing to give up the pre fixe. “It’s what the best restaurants do.” Carmen loves the word best, huh?

“Have those restaurants—” You bite your tongue from what was going to be an immediate catty response.

You try again, measuring out orange liqueur and lemon juice as you do so. “You’re thinking like a Chef and you need to think like a customer— A- A guest, for a second.”

Carmen gives you the floor, mostly because he cannot compute the command. You continue, “Let’s do a little roleplay, alright? Let’s say we’re just average people, not workin’ at The Bear, and we’re goin’ on a date.”

“When?” “...When?” “When is the date?” “No, I’m— It’s— This is hypothetical.” “Yeah but in the hypothetical.”

You shrug, clicking tongs together as you grab large chunks of ice for your shaker. “I dunno, Friday nights? We have like a Friday night date night.”

“Oh, so you’re doing good.” Richie hums, proud of this hypothetical you, “Weekly date night is a cornerstone.” 

“Moving on.” You elbow Rich behind you, shaker sloshing in hand, “I’m not a foodie, you are— In this hypothetical. You’re looking around at restaurants in the area for the date, you find The Bear— You find through their website with an improper hyperlink that the menu is,” —You list off on your free hand— “prix fixe, unavailable online, and changes daily so you can’t go off of reviews either. Also, it’s a new place, so you can’t really ask around for opinions.” 

“Right.” Carmen nods, as does Syd. Uncle Jimmy’s got that stupid smirk he gets when he sees his kids fall in line. You pour the ouzo over the ice, focus on the drink, not Carm’s mopey expression. 

“So, we probably wouldn’t go, right?”

Carmen keeps nodding, eyes downcast— Not upset, just can’t take feedback without keeping his head down. “Prob’ly not, yeah.” 

You pound the shaker shut, shaking it lightly in one hand as you try as hard as you can to sweetly explain. “People are open to like, two surprises on an outing. New place, new food— But they will need a set menu and they will need to have it available beforehand— And they’ll need to be able to choose.”

He looks like a cat in the rain, so you add, “But. Maybe we can do a daily special? Or weekly, depending on burnout, but like, y’know, a semi-frequent one new thing. And maybe on like, Valentines or some holidays we do a fresh prix fixe. That’s how some of the best places do it.”

Carmen’s eyes upturn, smiling with them, at that last part. “You do keep a binder.”

“Syd does. I just pay attention.” You shake your head. “She mumbled about it all night when we got back.” 

Adamu is immediately aghast, she should’ve realized ages ago, you were practically quoting her. “You said you couldn’t hear me!”

“No, I said you weren’t bothering me, and you weren’t.” You can’t hide your smile as you break the seal on the shaker. Syd sucks at sharing her ideas, but you’re happy to act as a good mouth for her good brain. “Hand me a lowball.” 

With a grumble, Syd walks off in search of  the lowball; while everyone does seem to agree this is best practice, Carmen does still seem a little sore about it.

“It’d probably also serve us well to do a seasonally rotating menu, right?” And so you throw him a bone. “Like Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall? Base it on what’s in season with local vendors?”

“What grows together goes together.” Tina says, nearly sing-songy. “Farmer’s market is rough though, Jeff.” 

“Fuck a farmer’s market— With love, fuck a farmer’s market.” Back to writing on plexiglass you go. “We gotta do vendors, maybe f’ like, eggs and dairy we can do farmer’s market, but it’s just not feasible. Maybe for holiday pre fixe or daily specials? But full stock, it’s just not— It’s not it. And I say that while having farm fresh eggs and local honey in my pantry, alright?”

Carmen agrees, like a bobble-head this guy. He nods to Tina. “That cool with you, T?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s cool with me.” Tina is a millisecond off to pipe in, which is really not noticeable– To anyone but you, that is.

“Why’s— Why would T not be good with that?”

“She’s in charge of farmer’s market.” 

“Hm.” You bite the end of the dry-erase marker. “T, would you be cool with rotating that, now and again?”

“Ooh?” She tilts her head, shrugging, “Yeah, yeah, kid. If you wanna take the reins.”

“Not me.” You return to scribbling on the glass board. You point at Carmen and Syd through the glass. “Them.” 

“I’ve paid my sous chef dues.” Says Syd, returning to the table with your glass. You tut, shaking your head. You refocus your vision from your writing to beyond the plexiglass, at them. 

“You need it for inspiration! You fuckers keep forgetting you like cooking, I need you to visit the farmer’s market once in a while to remind you.” You take the lowball glass and tong a few ice cubes in. “Non-negotiable. Heard?”

A soft, simultaneous, “Heard, Chef.” from your cats. 

“Good.” You strain the mixed concoction out of the shaker, into the lowball glass. It’s a very pretty peachy pink. You tweezer a slice of dried fig and place it on top. You grab a toothpick, stick it down the glass, pull it out, and taste the toothpick. Balanced, solid flavour, should be good.

You slide the drink over to Syd. “I can’t drink everything obviously, so first dibs goes to whoever the drink is based on— I don’t care who drinks it, just let me know if it goes down smooth.”

You also in turn hand Syd the recipe card and sketch, and you’re quick to move on as she reviews and sips away.

Ouzo. Dry anise tasting spirit. It’s got a licorice aftertaste, but oddly sweeter for it. It’s strong. Resilient. It’s made from remnants of unfermented wine grapes and a mix of other distilled and unused spirits. Better than the sum of its parts. It goes well with figs. Muddle it together with fig marmalade— Sweet yet earthy, spring-like. Orange liqueur to marry the flavours, lemon juice to brighten. Shaken, pour over ice into a lowball, serve with a dried fig on top.

Syd manages to reserve her reaction to a slow but repetitive nod, like entering deep space. She only comes back to reality when Richie reaches for the drink, wanting to try. She’s quick to pull it away from him, coveting the glass. 

“Ah… what else? Rapid fire.” You knock your head around, remembering what The Computer talked about, and in quick succession, you line up every problem and talk through them, possibly solve them— As best as a newbie can. At the very least, you open the floor to actual discussions as you make drinks all the while. 

“Opening a full sixth day I think will shoot us in the long run, especially if we ever get a kitchen plague going. Maybe we just open for half the day on Mondays going forward, try out breakfast? Stop booing me, I’m right.”

Richie’s. Also served over ice in a lowball. It’s similar to a whiskey smash. Nixing the mint. Whiskey bourbon— A good one, but not too good that it’s a sin to mix. Something with a cinnamon spice, that's warm all the way down, but never burns. Water it down a bit by stirring peach juice over the whiskey with ice for a brief moment. Float blueberry syrup on top. Add a toothpick, spearing two blueberries and one peach halve, balance it over the glass, for stirring. So the drinker can mix the blueberry syrup in and have a cute colour changing experience. 

“Wine pours, me and Gary got that. We can also just start charging by the bottle by default— Whatever works.” 

Marcus’. Simple but effective. A rum and coke ice cream float. Made complex by the fact that the ice cream is on a rotating schedule, based on whatever Chef Brooks is feeling that night and what’s in stock. Right now? Pistachio. So tonight it’s actually rum and seltzer, and it will probably continue to be rum and seltzer, based on the way Marcus’ eyes light up by the opportunity to get weird. More often than not, you’re going to need that neutral base. Served in a milkshake glass, because what else?

“I don’t understand why I couldn’t just grow these microgreens myself in house. They’re just plants you murder early, are they not? Am I missing something?”

Tina’s. Varied take on a spiked agua fresca. Fresh blended mango agua fresca— With ginger, of course. A healthy kick is a necessity for a mom drink. Sweetened with simple syrup, spiked with white rum, dash of agave bitters, top with coconut water. Served in a tall glass, because why would you skimp on portions?

“Why are we shipping flowers from New York? No, fuck that, go to Violet’s Violets— I fixed her cooler once, she falls in love and gives a discount to literally anyone who’s nice to her. Just send Marcus with some dessert and you’ll be set for life.”

And of course, Carmen’s aperol spritz. You go with the cherry syrup rim for now because it’s important to try. You’re almost certain it’s too much though.

“Napkins…” You rub your icy cold hands— From shaking up so many goddamn drinks— Over your eyes. “Why are we renting?”

“Buying is insanely overpriced.” Answers Computer. 

You nod, shrug, but nod, fingers tapping the glass, “Well, it’s like renting over owning right? It might be better to own because, y’know, you might suddenly get told by your napkin vendor, like, like years down the line, after basically paying for these napkins in full through rent, ‘hey, actually, we’re gonna jack up prices or just take those napkins back’ even though you’ve —again— Literally had them for years—”

“Chippy, are you good?” Richie tries to massage your shoulder, tries to break you out of the doom spiral, but admittedly, it was never his forte. Still isn’t. 

“We—!” Your voice hangs and is grating in a way it usually isn’t, ignoring the question. “We can produce our own napkins if we buy linens by the yard and hem ‘em ourselves. We—” You snap your fingers a couple times at Carmen, praying he backs you up. “We can even get The Bear monogrammed on them.”

“That sounds nice…” It’s Carmen’s turn to ease you off the ledge of insanity, gently. “It also sounds expensive, were you gonna do that?”

“Fuck no.” You’re quick to shake your head. “I fucking suck at sewing, my own jumpsuit is covered in my blood— No, my—” Oh. “Hold on.”

Your hand immediately goes for your back pocket, quickly pulling your cell-phone out, and dial one of your first starred contacts. Richie, over your shoulder still, sipping his blueberry and bourbon cocktail, excitedly mumbles. “Oh, put it on speaker.”

You’re annoyed before he’s even answered, knowing the headache you’re about to get. “Trust me, the first thirty seconds minimum will not need—”

“Hey!” It’s impossible to convey how earth shatteringly loud and drawn out his voice is, immediately upon answering. There may be eight seconds of the sustained vowel? Maybe more. Almost everyone flinches, par for Syd, Carm, and Rich. Though for all different reasons. 

A touch grating, in the same way your voice just was. Like father, like occasional daughter, you suppose. “Hey kiddo baby darling sweetheart angel princess—” Oh, he’s mad. The whole ‘slew of nicknames when you’re pissed off’ thing? Yeah, that didn’t start with you. “Did someone die? Because that’s the only reason my darling baby only daughter calls anymore!”

You sigh, immediately exhausted, putting your weight on one leg. “Y’know, once a month is honestly a lot of times a year for a fully grown woman to call their dad, on average. I absolutely call you more than my friends call their dads.”

Richie almost chokes and whispers over your shoulder, hesitant, internally preparing for a dreadful future. “Please tell me that’s not true.”

“Oh, and you should be so lucky that you have a dad to call! Cause I bet those friends are calling funeral homes, aren’t they?!”

“Dad—”

“I should have never taught you independence. Worst mistake of my life to teach you how to be your own person. Richard, never teach your kid how to use a screwdriver, it will be the last day you are a father.”

“Noted, Big C-K.” Richie goes for your dry erase to actually write it down, you pull it away from him. That’s gonna require a long talk down later. 

Carmen mouths to you, across the table, he meant to ask earlier when Cicero said it but there wasn’t time. ‘C-K?’

You mouth back, gesturing to the logo on your very own flannel ‘Chicago’s Kindest.’ He’s not the best with acronyms. 

“Oh— And thank you for bringing that up! And what’s this I hear about you cutting your hours with C-K? I hear this from Tony of all people ‘fore I hear it from you?”

“I got a long-term bartender gig that’s actually gonna keep my bills paid, alright? And I like it. Putting that mixology double trade major to good use. Cicero’s got stock in the place, actually.”

“How you doin’ C-K?” Cicero pipes in next to you, waiting for his moment.

“Ah… I’ve got my complaints. For one, my Jack keeps you more company than me!”

There’s a series of hums and haws, that weird uncle secret language of heavy exhales that manage to say more than any actual words they could say. 

You let the heaving run its course for ten seconds before cutting it short with, “Anyways, I’m still gonna keep the business running, just only in the mornings. It’s not like I brought in that much business anyway, I’m not pulling a foundation.”

“Everytime a small business dies, a rich man laughs, Jack!” 

“It’s not dying! It’s alive! It’s present and alive!” Don’t get flashbacks. “Anyways, speaking of small businesses, I need a favour—”

“Ooh, the truth comes out, princess calls cause she needs bail—” 

“For the love of God, let me get through a sentence, Pops!” You grumble, continuing. “Remember that overpriced monogram machine you bought for no reason?”

“It was not for no reason, it was invaluable because it saved my mitts from hand embroidering all those logos— And and— you have to remember—” You mouth the words along with him, mimicking him, because you know exactly what he’s going to say, “that it all starts in your community— And now you have like eight beautiful outfits, cause of me… And also it’s fun.”

“Well… If it’s fun, would you consider making some linen napkins?”

And it flows like ping pong, because your dad is a repairman— Well, former, but still. He’s simple. He handles negotiations simple. So do you.

“For who?” “Restaurant. The Bear.” “Why?” “Cause they need linen napkins.” “How many?”

You look over your shoulder to Richie, he does the math in his head pretty quickly, “Bout seventy to a hundred covers a night.”

“Six hundred.” “Pay?” “We’ll pay supplies, and I’ll give you like—” You look to Syd, expectantly. She has no answer, so you put your advanced on the line. “A thousand?”

“A thousand!? Less than a dollar a napkin! Is this pre-housing crisis?!” “I work here, okay?! Discount me!” “My God, princess, are you in love with the owner or something?”

That world feels like it's choking, but that's probably just you. You blow hot air out of your mouth, looking anywhere but Carmen. Refusing to see him even in your periphery. Refusing to see his blue screened but ever so slightly expectant expression. Well? Are you? …Or something?

After a long moment, you find a way to avoid the question. “Ah–Uh, Syd co-owns the place.”

“Oh, Adamu?!” 

Syd pipes in, leaning over the table. You hold the phone out for her. “H–Hey, Mr. CK.” She waves, despite the fact that it’s a phone call.

“Hey kiddo. Aw, what a sweetheart. Lead with her next time!”

“Alright!” You bring the phone back to your face— It’s remained off speakerphone this entire time, but he continues to yell loud enough for the table. “I didn’t realize you were best friends.”

“Of course we are. Y’know she brought me this uh– this salmon mushroom risotto the other night? Unbelievable.”

You squint at Adamu curiously, whispering. “You bring my dad food?”

She whispers in return, defensive. “He lives on my block, don’t be weird.”

“For her, I’ll do it for eight-hundred, okay kiddo? I know how tough it is to start up a business, can’t imagine trying to move on top of that.”

Your turn to blue screen. Moving? You’re immediately over the love thing. “...Pardon?”

“...I’ll do it for eight—”

“No– Yes, sorry, yes dad that’s great—” You arch the phone away from your face, focusing your attention on Syd. “Syd, you’re moving out?”

She sighs, “Trying to.”

“Pops.” You straighten up, not looking away from her. “I’ll call you back to sort details later, okay?”

“Sure. You also need to let me know holiday plans, are we going up to Oak Park or—”

Somewhat disrespectfully, you speak hurriedly, “Yeah, we’ll figure it out, love you, bye!” and hang up. Still locked on Syd, you ask. “When you tryna move?”

“Like, soon as possible.” She stretches out her shoulders. “My own dad is sort of… Encroaching on my space.” 

“Right.” Your eyes flicker with too many ideas, and you’re trying to temper expectations. “You wanna live by yourself?”

“I mean, I don’t really know anyone on the same timeline as me, with the same ‘low budget’ as me.”

The Computer attempts to interrupt the interruption of his review, holding a finger up, “And why are we talking about—”

But you hold the palm of your hand up, continuing on, “I need to move out asap and have a ‘low budget’.”

That’s Carmen’s queue to chime in, he loves your place. “What happened?” 

Also Richie’s, “What? Chip, your spot’s like a historical site, ya can’t move.” and this is generally agreed upon by a sea of dismayed voices.

“To make an extremely long story short, I don’t have a choice.” You wave your hand in the air, silencing murmurs. “My sweet old lady landlord— The only landlord I’ve ever respected, got bought out by a fuckin’ big business gentrification ass company— I’m not in a rent controlled zone so they’re gonna keep jacking the rent until I move out so they can tear it down and build a new spot— They also may or may not have found out that me and Loretta— My landlord— Haven’t exactly been keeping up to date on my lease.”

“Meaning?” Carmen knows the answer will be bad. 

But it’s somehow worse. “Meaning I pay my rent on time in cash and she texts me once a year saying ‘do you want to keep living here?’ and I say ‘yes’, and we continue on.”

“Well, hold up—” Richie holds a hand up, like he’s a genius. “Squatter’s rights?”

“I thought about going that avenue, but—” You gesture to Syd. “If you’re already moving, and looking for a roommate?”

She looks up and around, thinking about it. You decide to join her in the brainstorm, scooching yourself just an inch to the right, writing on free space on the plexiglass screen, ‘pros and cons’

“Pro.” You murmur as you write. “I have a better credit score than you.”

Syd sputters, half sarcastic. “Well, that’s just uncalled for.”

“It’ll give you more options for places! Better ones! Ones with in-unit laundry!” You defend.

“In-unit laundry…” “Your eyes just lit up in such a sad way.” “Con. You are an ass.”

“That’s a pro. A real con would be that I have a lot of plants and if I ever go on vacation I’m gonna need you to take care of them, and I’m not gonna have a binder for you, because I water them based on vibes, and if I come back and they’re dying I’m gonna be pissed off and very passive aggressive about it.”

“Violently honest.” “Pro. Mostly direct. Aside from when I’m not.” “Con. I’m not direct.”

“Con. That’s fine but if I get the idea that you’re mad at me I’m gonna act really weird about it until you reassure me that everything is okay and you don’t want to throw me out the window.”

“Yeah. Con. Same.”

“Pro. I’ve lived by myself for a while, which is good to have when you’re moving out of your parents for the first time. Con. I’ve lived by myself for a while, and I’m very used to the lifestyle of big t-shirt no pants, I’m not giving that up.”

Now that one takes Syd a second to unpack, “But, but like, underwear though, right—?”

“No shit I wear underwear!”

“Okay! It’s important to note!”

“Don’t be weird.” Richie grumbles behind you, solidly directed at Carmen.

Who’s whole face really just scrunches up in confusion. “‘Don’t be weird’? You don’t be weird.”

“I’m not bein’ fuckin’ weird—” “Then why are you up in my shit—” “Up in your shit? Oh wow—” “Fully not what I was referencing—” “Don’t be weird, cousin!” “I literally— I did not even move— Not a single cell in my body—” “And— And you only know that ‘cause you had to lock it down, you dog—”

“I don’t remember having kids, why the fuck am I in a Kindergarden?” Uncle Jimmy interrupts.

“I’m just takin’ care of my boy, Unc.” Richie raises a hand in defense, feigning innocence. “Can’t be too careful.”

“You super can, and you super are.” You grimace, elbowing him again. “And also, not important–!”

“Actually, no, very important.” Syd of all people interrupts. “Non-negotiable, like you can’t— …Like you— …When I’m home it’s like— Don’t—” Ah.

You roll your eyes and save her before she just about breaks out in a feverish sweat. “Syd, I wasn’t planning on it. That’s like roommate rule one.”

“Syd.” Richie points to his own eyes, then to hers, ‘watching you’. “Don’t be weird.”

“What the fuck—”

“Everyone shut up, pros and cons—!” You shout, gaining the attention back. “Pros. I have a car, we work at the same place, I have all the furniture for a living room already,  you'd never have to wait for a landlord to fix something ever again, and I could probably do a bunch of D-I-Y renter friendly projects, if you wanted.”

“...Oh my god, a French-door pantry.” “I think I could swing that.” “Pros. You’ll never have to cook again. I guess that’s my only pro, actually.”

“Con. I have been feeding the cat on my fire escape for like a year and if I’m moving I am going to have to adopt her, so we’re gonna have a cat. She’s cute, she has five toes on each paw. Something dactyl, it’s called.”

“What’s her name?” Squid’s not excited per se, but she’s not saying no. 

You shrug. “I never named her, let’s name her together.”

“No, that’s too much pressure—” “No, you’ll do great—” “What do you mean I’ll do great—?” “Three–” “Oh like together together? No! What—?!” “Shut up, just do it, head empty, two—” “No! I’m just not gonna say any—” “Yes you will, Squid. One!”

And together, perfectly in sync, like it was planned all along, you both say on queue, “Calamari!”

“There we go.” You write ‘Calamari’ on the plexiglass. “That’s my girl— That’s our girl, actually. I’m still not sure if she’s a girl.”

You click your tongue against your teeth, knocking your head back and forth in thought as you look at the scribblings on the glass. “Non-negotiables?”

Syd leans forward on the table, chin propped up in her hands. “I need forty-five minutes of bathroom time at the beginning of the day.”

“...Do you have a fuckin’ lactose intolerance?” “It’s my me time!” “Alright! Fuckin’ fifty minutes of toilet time for Syd. Ah, I need east facing windows… and uhm…”

Syd stares at you, and alas, she can tell, “You have a big non-negotiable…”

“It’s not that big… It’s more a group thing than a roommate thing, really…” “What is it?” “I think… It would be fun… If we all started playing Dungeons and Drag—” 

There’s an immediate, staggeringly loud array of groans, you’re still writing it down nonetheless, all the while defending, “I honestly think a little roleplay and math would fix you assholes! I really think it would! I’ll D-M, I’ll make it so easy— Please?”

Syd grimaces, but inevitably nods. “Y’know what, you’re never gonna get a concrete schedule for that down, and no one else is gonna agree so yes, sure from me.” Still a win. 

“Okay.” You hum, capping the marker. “So… Aim to move first of February? You down?”

It takes some time, and you realize as Syd’s brain frozen, that you might be overstepping. “Sorry, that’s going too fast, you think on it—”

“...I’m down.” You make it very easy for her to say yes, by giving her the option to say no. “Yeah, let’s do it. February. I’m down.”

“I’m so happy for you two, but I’m still fuckin’ reeling— Chippy, it’s– it’s— So many memories—” Richie’s being overly dramatic on purpose, hand on your shoulder, really laying on the vocal fry in his voice; but it is true. “I mean, come on, first time I’d ever been stabbed was on your block.”

“Sorry, what?” Carmen was having fun watching his two favourite employees figure out they’d be perfect roommates. He loves to be a fly on walls around you more than he’d like to admit. Richie managed to ruin it with one line. “Stabbed on your block?”

“Yeah,” You suck the air between your teeth, trying to think of some sort of white lie, but slowly shake your head, “I— Yeah, there’s no real way for me to down play it, I was so fuckin’ scared.”

“You were tweaking!” Richie laughs, clapping his hand against your shoulder, to him it’s a charming story— You’d probably be laughing too, if Carmen didn’t seem so… unpleased, let’s say. “You fuckin’ thought I was gonna die!”

“You fucking were!” You slap Rich’s hand away. “It was so close to a cerebral artery— First and last time I’ll administer stitches in my fucking kitchen, hand to God—”

“What’s the story?” Oh, new face from Carmen you haven’t seen before, bewildered annoyance, you’d describe it as, it’s going in your bottom five. “You live in a bad neighbourhood?”

“It’s rustic—” You try, but Richie opts to speak on your behalf. “Oh, Chip lives in a terrible neighbourhood, Cousin. You’ve been there, haven’t you?”

“Yeah but it didn’t seem that bad— No— Hold on, go back, stabbed why?”

“So I heroically defended a boy from crooked—” Richie tries, but you opt to speak on his behalf. “Richie was helping me bring up groceries, we saw some highschoolers shaking a kid down, Richie tried to break it up, one of ‘em stabbed him with one of those shitty switchblade comb things.”

“You got stabbed by a kid?” Syd snorts, but immediately regrets it because she has perfectly set him up for—

“Yeah, and wouldn’t be the last time, would it?”

“Richie, c’mon…” You reach up, patting the guy’s shoulder. “It was an accident and she apologized—”

Richie just raises his eyebrows, interrupting with a simple, “Mm-mm.” 

And so yours raise in tow, “...Fuck you mean ‘mm-mm’?” And your head turns to Syd, alarmed. “Syd, you apologized, right?”

Her mouth just sort of hangs, sputtering noises do come out of it, but nothing that strings a sentence together. You grow more agog, repeating again, astonished, nearly laughing from the shock, “Syd?! You apologized, right?! And told him it was an accident, right?”

Syd takes a beat, but she gets there. “I— I. Am. Sorry I stabbed you by accident, Richie.”

“Hm.” Richie crosses his arms, considering, mostly sarcastically. “Yeah, I’ll take it, I guess. Would’ve liked a card.”

“I am not getting you a card.” “I’m jus’ sayin’ I’d’ve liked one.”

Carmen’s still five steps behind, “Are you gonna be fine living there? In January?”

You choke back a laugh, because this is how men try to show they care, one must imagine. “I’ve been fine for the past handful of years living there, I think I’ll be fine for another month, sweetheart.”

“Crime is bad in January.”

“I was a first responder, and I know that’s not true.” You shake your head, shirking off laughter. “It’s actually in the summer that you see shit go down. Again, I will be fine. But you are free to visit.”

“Point of order.” The Computer finally pipes up again— Might’ve forgot he was here, if you’re honest. “What are we talking about anymore?”

“Point of order— I feel like numbers— Talking numbers is great but it’s all just like— Paper, y’know?” You unlatch the plexiglass, gently settling it back down on the table. “We should be talking more.”

Tina nearly whistles in agreement, nodding by your side. “Heavy that, Jeff.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’, like—” You snap your fingers to the rest of the crew, hand moving to and fro to point at everyone, “Did y’all know until right now that Syd was moving? …No, right? Let’s like— Fuckin’ remember to check in, like y’know, family, Chefs.”

And without calling her out, you can feel Tina’s demeanor next to you change, relaxed. 

“Heard, Chef.” Is the agreement from the crew, however, The Computer nor Cicero seem convinced, so with a sigh, you put on your most authoritative voice.

 “Y’know. Three Cs! Caring cuts costs!” A phrase no one has ever said, but it sounds legitimate when you put it like that. That gets them to acquiesce. 

Thank God, Marcus helps you move the conversation along, “...What’s everyone doing for the holidays?” Alas for both of you, the silence is deafening. “...Or not.”

You volley back for him, “If no one has hard plans I was thinking of having a lil’ Holiday party? Nothing big. Sort of a ‘goodbye old apartment’ party? Come by after you hang out with your families or whatever?”

“Not gonna go up to Oak Park?” Rich leans one arm on your shoulder, nursing his whiskey cocktail in the other. 

“Meh.” You shrug, attempting to push him off you, but he doubles down. “We’re not so intense about holidays since everyone’s aged. I’ll visit my nephew on New Years.” 

“I’m doin’ Eve with Eva, but I’ll be free on the day. I’ll come by. We doin’ gifts?”

“I mean I got you something, so,” You tap the bottom of his glass as Rich takes another sip, making him flinch. “Catch the fuck up.” 

Syd pipes in, sniffing. “Me and my dad only celebrate on Christmas Eve now, so I’ll come.”

“Incredible. Two down.” You gesture to Marcus and Tina across the table. “You guys? Tina I assume you’ve got a loving family and shit?”

Tina smiles and nods, rightfully proud. “I do have a loving family and shit, but maybe I’ll come by late with them too?”

And Marcus tacks on with her, “I’m gonna be with my mom most of the night, but I’ll come through for a couple hours.”

“Perfect, perfect. Invites open to any plus ones as long as you text me first!” You hum, writing names down on the glass board. It’s kind of a nightmare of different lists at this point. “Richie, can you make sure Fak and Sweeps get the invite?”

“Yessir.”

“And us!?” Shrieks Cheech in the back, who really shouldn’t be able to hear you, he should be in the zone, slinging sandwiches.

You yell back without turning to him. “Yes, fucker, you and E can come, if you want! No fuckin’ plus one for you though!”

“Oh come the fuck on, Jack-Off!”

“Oh, make me a fuckin’ sandwich, big man!”

“Oh, I’ll make you a fuckin’ sandwich!”

“Oh, my dick!” A response that makes no sense, consistently the perfect bookend. You sigh, and finally, your eyes flit to the most terrified two in the room. “Berzattos… Holiday plans?”

“I think we’re gonna do dinner on Christmas Eve, and then the morning together? Well, I am.” Sug hesitates, she’s looking between Uncle Jimmy and Carmen. “I was gonna ask what Carm’s plan is…”

“I’ll go. I’ll go.” Carmen has to stop himself from biting the skin off the tips of his fingers. “I’ll go. And I’ll come to the party, after.” 

“I’ll probably just go home with Pete after. Baby’s first Christmas, y’know.” Natalie hums and nods awkwardly. There’s a question both of them want to ask. Neither of them are brave enough to ask it. And while you can sense there’s something dancing in the air, you’re not going to overstep on this front. 

“Mazel. I can buy silly decor with reason now. …Now let’s talk about the important grievances.” You hum, happy to end that chapter.

You turn just slightly to gently slap Richie’s cheek as he stands next to you. “Rich, you need to line your beard up, this neckbeard shit is pissing me off—”

“What’s with the fuckin’ drive by?!” “It’s been on my mind forever— You can’t be wearin’ suits and then be rockin’ that unkempt shit, clean up—” “I’m clean! I’m fucking clean!” “Who said? Who fuckin’ said? Cause I sure didn’t!” “How’m I s’posed to be linin’ my shit up every mornin’—” “You do not grow a beard that fast—” “Oh fuck you, I’m not fuckin’ Carmen, I grow a fuckin’ beard.”

Carmen’s just surprised to hear his name out of any name come up. “What– Now that’s a fucking drive by, what the fuck?” 

“If we’re voicing grievances, I’d like to voice my fuckin’ complaint with Captain Crash-Out over here—” “Who the fuck is sublimating now?” “You’re not usin’ that term correctly, cause you’re not integrated—” “I thought you two worked this out on the road trip!” “We did!”

You only half regret starting this feud with the beard comment— To be fair, you’re right. “This is it working?” 

“This is, in fact, it working.” Syd confirms plainly, her disappointment more than apparent. Rubbing the tips of her fingers to her temples. The fight is out of her, at this point. 

“Alright.” You slap your hands together. “Richie, what is your complaint?” Are you just union rep now? You might be a union rep now. 

“Carmen is fucking killing me.” The cocktail swishes and nearly spills as Richie points at the Chef, emphatic. “He won’t change shit for guests!”

“No substitutions!” It’s almost cultish, the way Sydney and Carmen yell it out together. 

Richie scoffs, head reeling back. “What happened to it bein’ about hospitality?” 

“I mean…” You suck air through your teeth, squinting. “If we’re sayin’ no substitutions, it’s no substitutions— Unless it’s like an allergy or sensory thing— But even then, it shouldn’t be like a major component getting replaced.”

“See? See?” It’s almost maniacal, rabid, how delighted Carmen is that you’re on his side. “Fuckin’ thank you. This is why I lo—” 

Before Carmen can finish his sentence, Richie flails about to suddenly throw the peach and blueberry skewer from his drink at Carmen— Not the pointed side, he doesn’t want to stab the guy. Just wants to save him from running his mouth. The peach slice hits Carm’s chest as Richie stutters out, “F-Fuck you, fuck you, fine. No substitutions— What the fuck am I supposed to say then?” speaking over whatever syllables fell out of Carmen’s mouth, muddling them. 

You cock your brow, but Carmen seems to quickly let the childish toss go, more than eager to move on. So you do too. “...Say some bullshit like, like, The Bear encourages —uhm— explorative culinary experiences where you let your taste buds go beyond your limitations and comforts— So eat a fuckin’ mushroom, you’re not gonna die.”

“If they don’t like mushrooms—” “Then they shouldn’t order it!” “How hard is it to just fuckin’ switch it out!?” “So hard! So hard! I think! I could guess!”

“I could do it.”

“Could you?” You cross your arms, leaning your weight onto one leg, pivoting to Richie. “Okay, roleplay, you’re Carmen, I’m you—” Just as Richie opens his mouth, you hold your index finger to his lips. “I know you wanna be a bitch, I’m askin’ you to just skip that part for me.”

His shit eating grin is only a little endearing. “How am I supposed to be in character if I’m not allowed to be a bitch?”

You clench and unclench your hands in the air, but let it go, opting to move on to your little thought experiment. “Chef, patient—” Instincts never give out, huh? “Christ, patron doesn’t want mushrooms in their anolini, I need you to sub it.”

“Ah, well I’m happy to do that for you, Host Richie, I—” He’s going to go into some scathing spiel, and you love the guy, but you have to rub dirt in the wound for the lesson to stick. 

You speak over him, voice stern, “Chef. In order to keep pace, I need you to make this call in fifteen seconds, what are you subbing it for?”

Richie’s head shakes back and forth as he scrambles to get his brain to work.“Fuckin— Fucking– Eggplant.” 

“Eggplant?” You ask politely, tone unsure. Carmen asks it with you, tone ridiculing. 

“It’s a sauce isn’t it?” You squint, turning your head to the actual Carmen. “It’s like a really thick mushroom sauce stuffed pasta?”

He tilts his head from side to side, but nods. In gist, yes. “It’s a ragout. Low and slow cooked stew—” Carmy’s ready to rave about it and teach you every facet of the dish, but perhaps that’s too romantic for a public setting. God, he’s weird about love. “We keep it going on our back burners all day— It takes an hour minimum to make from scratch, you can’t just sub it.” 

“Yeah, well…” Richie stops himself short of getting snarky for no reason all over again, taking a second to think about it. “Well, I didn’t know that. You didn’t explain that shit to me.”

“I don’t have time to hold your fuckin’ hand—” Carmen stops short of getting catty when you give him a very soft and yet gutting disappointed look. He pinches the bridge of his nose, sniffing. “I can’t explain why I do everythin’ I do when I’m— When we’re in a middle of a rush, I just need you to trust when kitchen says we can’t do it. Trust that I thought it through.”

Richie has to control himself, has to make sure the corners of his mouth don’t upturn just slightly, has to make sure it’s not clear that he is overjoyed that there’s finally middle ground, can’t get his hopes up. He nods. “I just wanna make everyone happy, y’know?”

“I know. You’re—” Carmen’s nose scrunches up for a second, God, he’s never had to say that he think’s Richie’s good to his face. And he’s not gonna start now, “Eggplant would be a good sub, if we had time.”

Richie prods his tongue along the side of his cheek, thinking. “Maybe I could look into knowin’ restrictions faster and estimatin’ their orders, so you can have ‘em on deck?”

And Carmen does think that’d be a waste of time, but he’s learning. He hears it out. “Could give it a shot, yeah.”

“Same team.” Richie reaches across the counter, and Carmen actually takes his hand, a quick dap. Civil.

“Same team.” First time you’ve heard Carmen adopt your idiom; you can’t help but smile, though you’re trying to hide it. You’re too focused on arguably the two most important men in your life to notice the silent conversation Uncle Jimmy is having with The Computer, speaking solely through nods and exchanged glances. 

Pay is for Chip. Cicero nods, and The Computer nods back. He gets it now. Pay is for Chip. Not just the mixologist, not just the sommelier, not just the repairman, not just the not-quite girlfriend, Chip. You’re Chip. You’re the cog, the piece. The grease between everyone. 

You’re the guy. Always have been, always will be. 

The silent conversation and the warm feeling in the room is cut short though, by The Computer. “Can she deal with the butter thing?”

“What the fuck is the butter thing?” You immediately jump onto the case, when Carmen looks down and away from you, you frown, leaning in. “What’s the butter thing?”

Jimmy snaps his fingers at The Computer, he hands him an invoice, which is then handed off to you. Old Major Farms, Orwellian Butter, salted and unsalted. $11,268. You just. Stare. The math comes all too easy to your head. Worth a week? 

“It’s the best.” Carmen repeats as your eyes remain worryingly unblinking. “It’s—”

“Carm.” Syd all but hisses, shaking her head in tight swivels, waving her hand around her neck for him to cut it. “Making it worse.”

“Angel is like, the worst it can get.” Hums Richie. Recalling your barometer of anger. Recalling the times when Mikey would say ‘what’s the point of paying bills?’ And you’d have to pull him aside. “Can’t get much lower than that besides—”

“Light of my life.” You look up from the paper in your hand, and both Richie and Sydney wince. Your voice is terrifyingly delicate as you nod over to the room behind you. “Apple of my eye. Can I speak to you in your office, please?”

Carmy’d like to say no. “...Yeah.” But you already started walking before he even answered, so there’s not much of a choice here. You head in by yourself, and thankfully, the door closes behind you, so Carmen’s got a second before he gets devoured. 

He walks around the counter, and as he nears the door, Richie grabs his arm. He whispers as he hands Carmen what’s left of his cocktail. “You need to lock the fuck in.”

“I know.” Carm returns, shooting down all that’s left of the lowball. Why’s Richie’s the sweet one? Why’d Carmen get the cough syrup drink? That’s not fair. Do you not think he’s sweet? “Thank you for the— Intercept.” 

Richie nods, he’s been unwillingly playing quarterback for Carmen since going to Rockefeller and seeing that goddamn giant tree and Carmen couldn’t stop opening his big fucking mouth after seeing you under the star. “Just think with your brain, not your—”

“Don’t.” “Was gonna say heart.” “Sure.” “Don’t be weird.”

“I know it’s expensive.” Carmen gets it out before even fully closing the door behind him, “But it’s normal prices, for high-end restaurants. I know it’s different—” He stops short when he finally turns around from the closed door, to see you, holding your painting. 

It’s facing you, you’re reviewing it in your hands where you sit in the office chair; the brown wrapping paper freshly ripped and on the floor. Carmen still doesn’t know what’s on the piece. 

“Carm.” You twist the piece around in your hand, turning it to him. He can see the nine squares. The Beef to The Bear. Mikey. “This is not another restaurant.”

Carmen continues to stare, silently, though he takes a step closer, reaching a hand out to graze over the canvas. You keep going, clarifying. “We’re not just another high-end restaurant. We’re us. And so we should be doing things like us. We’re the best, we don’t need the stuff to be.”

He was with you until that last part. His pursed lips say as much.

“It’s—” You smack your lips together, haphazardly handing him the canvas, he’s very quick to grab it with both hands, not wanting it unstable for a second. “Hold on, let me show you somethin’ — I think I left one in here.”

You roll the office chair back a bit, sinking down in the seat to reach far behind a tall cabinet; you have to pad your hand around in the dark nook for quite some time before you pull out— A screwdriver. An oddly shaped one, at that.

“...Has that been here the whole time?”

You nod. “Like threeish years at least, I think I threw it back there while telling it’s origin story. It’s part of the first set I ever got.” You grip the flat wooden handle. “It’s the worst screwdriver on earth, like, by far.” 

That gets a little chuckle out of Carmen. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You look up from it to him. “It’s a handmade set. Dad’s dad made it.” You awkwardly roll closer to him, he leans over, head next to your head as you both look down at it. “It’s got a flat wooden handle, made of poplar— So not only is it fucking impossible to get a good grip on, it’s also so fucking slippery. It’s part of a whole set, passed down from my grandpa to my dad to me.”

“Sounds fucked.”

“It is.” You laugh, and so does he. “It’s purposefully meant to piss you off.” You rub your thumb over the dent marks in the wood— All from the times you threw it at something— Including the very cabinet that it hid behind. “You ever wonder why I took over the handyman gig, bein’ the youngest and all?”

Carmy shrugs, glancing from the screwdriver to you. “Just assumed you were the best.”

That gets another laugh out of you, and Carmen’s overjoyed by the sound. “Yeah, I’m probably the best. But that’s only cause I kept up with it.”

You turn your head up to face Carmen again as you explain, “When our dad started bringing us to jobs as kids, he would make us exclusively use this set of screwdrivers— Sort of as a secret test. My brothers would get pissed off, as planned, and they’d quit and cry. And I dunno, I guess I’d cry and keep going? And I learned a couple tricks, eventually.”

“Tricks?”

“Like.” You pull back in the chair and run your hand across the office desk. The corners of it are screwed into the metal cabinet below it. “It’s really good if you’re screwing from the top down.” Using it as an example, you start to unscrew it. “It’s balanced. And it’s really all in the grip— Always loosen your grip with this one. Even if that seems counterintuitive.”

You get it to unscrew just fine with your loosened grip. “But if that doesn’t work, and you just can’t get it to work—” You lift the screwdriver in front of his face, showing off the sides of the handle. He smirks at the— “Just make your own grooves, it’ll be easier to hold.” Tiny teeth marks. 

“Carm.” You tap the handle to his nose as he zones in too much on it. “I’m the best repairman because I can work with anything. You’re the best Chef because you can work with anything. You don’t need the best when you’re the best.”

He’s the best? 

He’s the best. 

He’s the best. 

“I truly think you could make just as good a plate with Becel as this fucking Animal Farm butter.” 

Carmen’s the best. You think he’s the best. 

He’s gotta think with his head and not with his heart and not with anything else, either. Lock the fuck in, Carmen.

“I dunno bout all that.” He shrugs, bashful and attempting to hide it, trying to shake the praise off his back. 

“Well I know ‘bout that.” You shrug back, “I’m actually kind of a genius, when it comes to knowing who’s good and who’s not.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Carmy hums, and the sound is sweet without reservations. “...Painting is very good.” He nods to himself, on repeat, like a bobblehead. “Or I guess it’s less a painting and more a buncha photo transfers?”

“Yeah.” You set the screwdriver aside on the desk. “Most of them I took.”

“They’re good. It’s—” He pauses, tongue against his teeth. “It’s nice to see evidence he kept up, or somethin’.”

You nod, seeing Carmen’s brain struggle to keep pace in real time. “We took that one I think the day we talked to Uncle Jimmy about The Bear? Had to print out articles as proof we could make it work— Or, that you could make it work, rather.”

Carmen sniffs, crossing his arms, hands in tight fists— Probably too tight— where they hide. “Yeah, kinda fuckin’ up my end of the bargain, hm?” The light laugh that follows is hollow.

“Eh. You both did.” You smile, though it’s hesitant. “ But at least you’re still here fixing it.”

Still here. Still fixing it. That is in essence, the piece. Carmen gets lost staring at the squares, so you speak as he does. “I was trying to like. I dunno, replicate your brain.” He can see it. The messy yet coherent, controlled yet chaos. The love. The grief. The progress. The home. You see him. He can see that you see him. 

“11k for butter,” Carm’s head doesn’t move but his eyes raise to you. “Is a week. More than a week.”

Ah. Carmen can see you too, see your thought process. The Ascaso, worth one of the worst weeks of Mikey’s life. The fucking butter. Worth more than a week of Mikey’s sobriety. 

All you can do is nod solemnly. “It is, yeah.” 

He nods back, tongue prodding his cheek. “That’s too much.”

“I’d agree.”

“I’ll switch to local.” You make it easy for him to fix his mistakes, by giving him the space to realize them. 

“I think that’s the right call.” You nod, smiling. After a moment, you reach for Carmen to uncross his arms, and when he does, you take his fist and uncurl it— Your hand is a very soothing balm to the spots where he dug his nails into his own hand.

“Loosen your grip, Carmy.”

And so, he does. With a laugh and a look to high heaven, he loosens his grip. Really loosens his grip. Well— Not completely, he’s not going to say that, but he will say something that is just nearly as difficult but not quite. He'll bite down a little. He’ll make the grooves, for now, until his grip is good enough.

“Come to dinner with us?”

would you believe me if i said I had to rewrite a bit of this last scene because intially it went so rom-com and I was so disgusted when I reread it in the morning I had to stare at it in the subway ride to work like "what the fuck am I gonna do"

was this chapter good? God I hope so. I felt like with where we're going, it was kinda necessary to do Chip's onboard, set the stage for what work is like for her. I had to loosen my own grip with this one lmao. just allow myself to be a LITTLE messy. if it's bad, lie to me. tell me sweet little lies peach

DAD REVEAL THOUGH EH? MR CK!!! So much did happen this chapter. Chips on board! Squid Ink moving in together era commences! Christmas party!! Also. Would you believe me if I told you no shit syd was gonna move, she was planning it in S2, but I was planning this whole time for Ink to get evicted!! I want those fuckers to be roommates STAT!!!

anyways, i really hope i remembered to write down everyone that asked to be added to the taglist, i might've not. i'm very sorry if i didnt

oh also if you wanna be added!! send in your thoughts!! words for words baby, essay for essay cmonnn gimme ur character analysis!! (oh and also ask to be added, ofc)

@hoetel-manager , @fridavacado @sharkluver , @spectacular-skywalker , @silas-aeiou , @deadofnight0 , @sunbreathingstuff , @anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @blueaproncarmy @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @mrs-perfectly-fine @thefreakingbear @anytim3youwant

[reshinless]

──── come and get it, star b☆y!

𝜗𝜚 synopsis. when you want to tease xiao on an evening you aren't supposed to. (spoiler: he's a little pent-up if you know what i mean ;p)

𝜗𝜚 pairings. xiao x gn!reader, !!nsfw content ahead!!

𝜗𝜚 director's notice. an idea my lovely friend gave, and i decided to write more about, luv u ky <33

xiao who was already stressed, this night was longer than expected. he was already ready to crash into the bed right beside you, and admire you all night again.

but when xiao did end up arriving home.. he felt more pent up than before, he never felt like this back then, but why now? what's this pressure he feels throbbing on his dick? and shit your timing could not be better.. coming out of the kitchen in almost nothing but an apron.

xiao could feel the blood gushing quickly to his cock, covering his mouth in an attempt of covering up his groan. you really wanted to tease him. sure the delicious scent of almond tofu did smell nice, but he wanted a different kind of sticky tonight.

xiao who could already feel your pussy sucking him inside, as if you were prepared for him, every inch of his cock hitting your insides so blissfully, he could hear how each plop kissed the deepest parts inside. he could already see the pretty little bulge in your tummy!

xiao who cockily whispers, his mouth on the shell of your ear, praising you for how good you're doing.. bent over the kitchen counter who could do nothing but hold on to the edges, each powerful thrust moving you forward and backward each time. he could see how many times your eyes rolled back.

carrying you by your hips directly from the kitchen into the bedroom, he laid you down onto the bed, placing one of your legs atop his shoulder. xiao who scoffed at your initial shock; "you really thought i was done?" looking into your eyes with a smirk.

xiao who's still busy admiring every time you loll your tongue out as he grinds himself into your g-spot, watching how good it made you feel. the bed continues to creak as he returned to his fast pace blows to your insides.

xiao who feels like filling you till the brim, flipping your over to face the soft cushions. positioning your ass into the air, moon-shaped marks grow into your skin as he held your hips back and forth tightly. each move only taking him closer to what seems like his fifth time already, but he couldn't waste a second of this.

xiao who sat you back up on the bed, eyes making contact with your own. adoring every little speck of dust that landed on your face, or the little mole you have on your hip, or maybe that birthmark you mentioned briefly. or it could be the scars scattered along your body. could be every curve he's caressed this evening, or maybe it was the musky scent in the air of the sweat on your forehead, especially with the way your hair still stuck to your skin.

xiao who still fingered the cum seeping out your entrance. he meant his word when he said he didn't want to waste anything. even while still mooning over the way your eyebrows knit, his fingers weren't even doing that much, just enough to make sure everything's still in there.

xiao who finally goes to sleep with you after a warm bath, drying himself in a towel, and getting into the pleasant comfort of the sheets you both share.

as you snuggle closer to kiss the small diamond-like mark on his forehead, xiao froze, feeling blood rush down there again, his tattoos that dance along his arms glowing in indication to how he feels.

oh he's gonna fuck you again

gg go next idk i don't know if i like this one that much, but i do wanna get into this one fanart about how xiao gets turned on if you kiss his little mark, or his tattoos :3

[hoshifighting]

Hey pookie so I just wanted to ask seeing that you didn't see any of my asks in your inbox could you write me a ff where you're in seventeen and you used to have a friends with benefits situation with wonwoo but now that's over and you're with josh but he knows that so now he wants to have a threesome with you and won I you are comfortable and have the time😊💗

threesome with; actual situationship!joshua & past situationship!wonwoo WC: 3.3k WARNINGS: smut, threesome, reader misses wonwoo, mentions of ovulation/sensitiveness, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), body fluids (cum) penetrative sex, a teeth scratch during blowjob—no pain, joshua and wonwoo making eye contact as they fuck you—idk, but felt like a warning.

you’re not entirely sure how it started. maybe it’s the way joshua’s always had this easy charm, like he knows exactly how to say shit that gets under your skin. but it’s not the kind of annoyance that makes you want to push him away, it’s the kind that makes you want to shut him up by doing things that leave the both of you breathless.

and wonwoo… well, wonwoo’s always been a different story. it’s not like he’s cold, exactly. just detached, distant. except when he’s not. except when his hands were on your hips, and his mouth was on your neck, and when he pulled you so close that it’s like he wanted to remind you how much he can feel.

it wasn’t supposed to last as long as it did, but it did. until it didn’t.

now, though? now you’ve got joshua, and that’s its own thing. he’s smoother than wonwoo ever was, always knows how to keep things light and playful even when his touch is hot and heavy. you’re not sure what to call what you have with him—it’s not exactly a relationship, but it’s not casual either. and he knows about wonwoo. of course he does. you never accomplished about lying to joshus, he knows everything about you, and you simply cant lie looking inside his eyes.

“so,” joshua says, leaning back against the couch, his eyes fixed on you with that lazy smirk you’ve come to expect. “what if we changed things up?”

you raise a brow, not quite following. “changed things up how?”

his gaze flicks over you, dark in his eyes now, something you’ve only seen in flashes before, right when he’s about to get serious. “i know about you and wonwoo. i know it’s over, but…” he lets the words hang there, knowing exactly how to build suspense. “what if it didn’t have to be over?”

you feel your stomach flip, your mind racing to catch up with the suggestion that’s hanging in the air like a loaded gun. “what the fuck are you talking about?”

he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even look like he’s joking. “i’m talking about the three of us.”

you let out a laugh, more out of shock than anything. “a fucking threesome? with wonwoo?” it’s so ridiculous, but there’s something twisted in your chest that says it’s not entirely a bad idea.

joshua just shrugs like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “you said he was good, right? no reason to keep that all to yourself. besides… i’m curious.”

“curious?” you echo, still not believing what you’re hearing. “about what exactly?”

his smile turns wicked, and he leans forward, his lips brushing your ear. “about what it’d be like to see you with him. to see how you’d react if it was both of us. together.”

the idea rolls through your mind like wildfire, igniting thoughts you didn’t even know were buried there. you picture it—wonwoo’s quiet dom that you remembered, joshua’s charming and sensual—and suddenly, the room feels too hot, your heart beating too fast.

you lean back, eyes narrowed. “and what makes you think wonwoo’s even into that?”

joshua grins, knowing exactly what he’s doing. “oh, he’s into it. trust me.”

you don’t need to ask how he knows, and that’s what gets to you. this whole situation, as absurd as it sounds, feels almost inevitable. the tension between you and joshua’s always been good enough, but throw wonwoo into the mix, and it’s like adding gasoline to a slow-burning fire.

“you really think this is a good idea?” you ask, not sure if you’re talking to joshua or yourself at this point.

“i think it’s an idea,” he says, shrugging again, that confidence never leaving his face. “whether or not it’s a good one is up to you.”

you bite your lip, torn between the pull of curiosity and the weight of everything that’s gone down with wonwoo. it wasn’t messy when it ended, but it wasn’t exactly clean either. things like that don’t just disappear. they linger.

“fuck, you’re serious about this.” it’s not a question, more like a realization. joshua’s leaning in, his hands tracing light patterns over your skin, and you feel yourself giving in to the inevitable, even though part of you is still screaming that this is insane.

“completely,” he says, his lips grazing your jaw. “so, what do you say? wanna see how far we can push this?”

there’s a moment, where you think about what this could mean. it’s not just about sex, not with joshua and wonwoo involved. the way joshua’s eyes burn into yours as if he’s daring you to cross a line you can never uncross.

but then, you think about the way wonwoo used to look at you, that hunger in his sharp eyes, and the way joshua’s always been able to coax you into doing things you never thought you’d be into. and, well… maybe crossing that line isn’t the worst idea after all.

“alright,” the weight behind it feels like a door being kicked wide open. “let’s do it.”

joshua’s grin stretches wider, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “that’s what i thought you’d say.”

you can feel wonwoo's presence, even though wonwoo’s not here yet. but you know—you know—that when he is, things are going to change in a way none of you can ever take back.

and the fucked up part is? you’re not sure you’d want to.

[...]

“a threesome?!”

wonwoo’s voice cuts through the room. he’s standing at the foot of joshua’s bed, his eyes wide in disbelief—those same eyes that are always narrow, focused, but right now they’re blown open like he just heard the most ridiculous thing in his life.

honestly, you can’t blame him.

you sit there, smaller than you’ve ever felt, wrapped in the sheets like they might shield you from the exhasperation of his reaction. you’d expected some kind of pushback from wonwoo—he’s not exactly the most spontaneous guy—but the shock in his voice still stings more than you’d thought it would. joshua’s quiet beside you, arms folded across his chest, watching wonwoo with this unreadable look, lips pressed into a thin line. like he’s assessing the situation. like he’s waiting to see how this plays out.

“i—” you start, but your throat feels dry, your words dying before they’ve even formed. you shift, uncomfortable, but it’s not just the awkwardness of the moment. there’s something more, something deeper that’s making your skin feel hot, your body overly sensitive to every movement. you know what it is. you can feel it. your body’s buzzing, the ache between your thighs making itself known with every subtle shift of the sheets. you’re ovulating, and it’s making this whole thing worse, making your body respond in ways that are frustratingly out of your control.

wonwoo’s still staring, he looks at you, then at joshua, then back at you again. you don’t meet his eyes, can’t bring yourself to.

“are you serious?” his voice is lower now, more measured, but there’s still a note of incredulity in it.

you swallow hard, forcing yourself to look up at him. “yeah,” you say, voice quiet, but it’s the truth. “we’re serious.”

wonwoo looks like he’s processing it, his mind running a mile a minute, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression that tells you he’s considering it. and that’s enough for joshua, who leans forward slightly, his voice smooth, persuasive.

“it’s not as weird as it sounds,” joshua says, his tone light, like he’s just suggesting something casual, like going out for drinks. “you’re both already close. you trust each other, I know you for years. we’ve all got chemistry, right?”

wonwoo’s eyes narrow slightly at joshua, but the tension between them isn’t exactly hostile. it’s more like a challenge, like he’s weighing the pros and cons, trying to figure out if this is something he can actually wrap his head around.

finally, wonwoo sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, and when he speaks again, there’s a resigned sort of acceptance in his voice. “fuck it. okay.”

your heart jumps at the words. wonwoo’s gaze locks on yours, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there’s no distance between you. no walls.

joshua doesn’t say anything, but you feel his presence, the way his eyes are on you, observing every little reaction. there’s something almost possessive in the way he watches, like he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

you don’t wait long.

before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re reaching for wonwoo, pulling him down by the front of his shirt until his lips crash into yours. it’s messy, a little frantic, and you missed him. so, so much. like you missed him more than you were willing to admit. you can’t help the small sound that escapes your throat, the way your body responds immediately, almost embarrassingly fast.

wonwoo’s hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, torching the fire that’s already been burning low in your belly.

joshua’s still silent beside you, but you feel his eyes on you, feel the way his presence lingers, close but not touching. when you finally pull away from wonwoo, breathless and dazed, you glance at joshua. his lips are pressed together in a tight line, his expression carefully neutral, but there’s a tension in his jaw that tells you he’s not unaffected by what he just saw.

“fuck,” wonwoo mutters, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “you’re… fuck, you’re wet already.”

you let out a shaky breath, your body pulsing with a need that’s only getting worse. “yeah,” you admit, not even embarrassed by it. “it’s… it’s the timing.”

wonwoo raises a brow, confused for a second, before realization dawns on his face. “oh.”

wonwoo knew about “the timing” he used to be your relief for it, and he remembered how sensitive you were.

joshua finally speaks up “she’s sensitive right now. been like this all day.”

you want it. you need it.

wonwoo’s eyes darken, his fingers tightening on your waist. “is that right?”

joshua’s watching closely, his hand brushing over your thigh, and the contact is enough to make your breath hitch, your body already responding before you can even think about it. “she’s all yours for now,” joshua murmurs. “but don’t get too comfortable.”

wonwoo’s lips are on yours again, his hands exploring your body with a familiarity that makes the nostalgia wash over you like grandma's food, and you can’t help but respond, your body arching into him.

every touch, every kiss feels magnified, like your senses are on overdrive, and it’s all you can do to keep yourself from losing control entirely. you’re wet, so wet it’s embarrassing, and you know they can both feel it, know exactly how badly you want this, how badly you need it.

“fuck, you’re so sensitive,” wonwoo breathes against your skin, his fingers teasing along the waistband of your underwear, and you whimper at the contact, your hips bucking involuntarily. “can’t believe how wet you are.”

joshua leans in, his lips brushing wonwoo's ear as he whispers, “told you she’s been like this all day. it’s driving her crazy.”

you let out a shaky breath, wonwoo’s fingers dip lower, brushing against your soaked core, and you moan, your head falling back against joshua’s shoulder. it’s too much, but at the same time, it’s exactly what you’ve been craving, what your body’s been screaming for all day.

joshua’s hand slips under your shirt, his fingers brushing over your tits, twisting the hardened nipples, he’s letting wonwoo have you, letting you drown in it, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before he takes over.

wonwoo’s fingers slide inside you, slow at first, and the instant he curls them, you feel your body react, hips stuttering forward like you’re trying to chase the sensation, but can’t quite control it. it’s like your entire body remembers him, remembers the way he used to touch you, how he knows exactly what makes you fall apart.

you gasp, your forehead pressing against his chest, his free hand coming up to hold the back of your neck, keeping you close. “fuck,” you whisper, your breath ragged, your skin burning, fever. “wonwoo…”

he doesn’t respond with words, just lets out a low hum, his fingers working inside you with an infuriating pace, slow but so damn effective. you clench around him, feeling the wetness start to drip onto the sheets beneath you, and your mind’s a blur.

then, they share a look—wonwoo and joshua, their eyes meeting over your trembling form like they’re communicating something quietly between them. it makes your stomach tighten. wonwoo’s chest rumbles with a deep chuckle as you crumble against him, barely able to hold yourself up.

“fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” wonwoo mutters, his fingers start moving faster, curling with every thrust, hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes your knees buckle. “didn’t think you’d be this sensitive.”

“wonwoo—” you choke out, your head falling back, and your hand reaches out blindly for joshua. he’s pulling away, but you need him, need both of them. “joshua—”

you hear him groan softly, and when you turn your head, you see him standing there, his hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it slowly, watching you like he’s savoring the sight of you falling apart on wonwoo’s fingers. “fuck, you look so good like that,” he says, his voice thick with lust. “so fucking needy.”

you bite your lip, moaning as wonwoo’s fingers slide deeper, the wet, obscene sounds filling the room as your body betrays you. your thighs tremble, your hands clawing at the sheets, the sensation of being split between them making your head spin. “joshua,” you moan again, voice breaking. “please… come back.”

he doesn’t need much more convincing. you watch as he steps forward, his cock hard and slick in his fist. “you want me that bad, huh?” he murmurs, the teasing lilt in his voice cutting through the haze clouding your mind. “can’t handle just wonwoo?”

wonwoo chuckles softly, his fingers still working inside you. “she’s falling apart already,” he mutters, his breath hot against your neck. “not sure she can handle both of us.”

“she can,” joshua says confidently, his thumb swiping over the tip of his cock as he steps closer, looming over you. “she just needs a little encouragement.”

you’re already panting, your body on edge, teetering dangerously close to losing control completely. you can feel the wetness coating his hand now, dripping onto the sheets, and it only makes the whole thing worse. every little movement makes you more sensitive, your body almost too responsive, and the frustration builds in your chest.

joshua kneels down on the bed, his cock brushing your lips, and you open your mouth automatically, desperate to have him inside you. but the second you try to take him in, wonwoo’s fingers curl again, and you gasp, your body jerking uncontrollably.

“shit—” you whimper, struggling to breathe, “i can’t—”

joshua presses the tip of his cock against your lips, his eyes burning into yours. “oh, you’re just gonna have to try a little harder, baby.”

you moan against him, your hips rolling instinctively into wonwoo’s hand, your body caught in this maddening push and pull between the two of them. joshua slides his cock past your lips, and the feeling of him, heavy and warm on your tongue, only intensifies the sensation of wonwoo’s fingers inside you. you choke a little, struggling to focus on either one of them, but it’s impossible.

wonwoo’s pace picks up, his fingers thrusting deeper, and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he pulls them out, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. you whine at the loss, your head spinning, but before you can even process it, he’s shifting lower, pressing your thighs apart with a firm grip.

“wonwoo—” you gasp, your words muffled around joshua’s cock.

“shh,” wonwoo murmurs, his breath hot against your inner thigh. “just relax.”

and then his mouth is on you, his tongue licking a broad, slow stripe up your center, and your entire body seizes up, a broken moan ripping from your throat. your hips buck against his mouth, but he holds you down, his grip tight on your thighs as he starts devouring you like he’s been waiting for this moment forever.

“fuck,” joshua mutters, his hand tightening in your hair as you struggle to take him, the combination of wonwoo’s tongue on your clit and joshua in your mouth pushing you past the point of reason. “you’re so fucking wet. wonwoo’s making a mess out of you.”

you can’t respond, can barely even think, your mind a swirling mess. wonwoo’s tongue is relentless, teasing and sucking at your clit, his fingers slipping back inside you as he eats you out like it’s his only mission in life. you can feel your legs shaking, your entire body trembling as you try to keep up, but it’s impossible. every touch, every thrust of his fingers makes you more sensitive, makes it harder to breathe.

“fuck, i can’t—” you gasp, pulling off joshua’s cock for a second, your voice a desperate, breathless whine.

joshua just chuckles darkly, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. “you’re doing so good, baby. just a little more.”

wonwoo hums in agreement, the vibration against your clit making your entire body jolt, and you feel yourself spiraling, the tension building faster than you can handle. his tongue flicks over you again, and this time, he focuses on that one spot—the needy, throbbing clit—sucking just hard enough to send you over the edge.

you cry out, your back arching off the bed, your entire body shuddering as the orgasm rips through you, and you can’t do anything but ride it out, trembling and gasping for breath as wonwoo keeps going, his mouth never letting up.

“fuck, look at you,” joshua mutters, his voice full of awe as he watches you fall apart. “so fucking beautiful when you come. i love it.”

wonwoo finally pulls back, his lips shiny and slick with your cum, his eyes dark and hungry as he looks up at you. “she’s not done yet,”

and you know he’s right.

“fuck, look at you,” wonwoo mutters, pulling back from between your legs, his lips still glistening with you. “i’ve got you ready for him, haven’t i?” the heat in your cheeks burning deeper as you realize what he means.

you don’t have time to respond before joshua's hands are on your hips, pulling you up to your knees. the shift makes you gasp, you glance back at him.

“yeah, you’ve got her real nice and wet for me,” joshua says, the blunt head of his cock teasing at your entrance. “good job, wonwoo.”

you feel a kick of embarrassment making your legs shake. wonwoo’s hand comes up to brush against your cheek, turning your face toward him as he looks down at you with that familiar gaze. “c’mere,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing over your lips. “i missed your pretty mouth.”

your lips part automatically, like you’re drawn to him, and before you know it, you’ve wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, guiding him toward your lips. he groans softly as you take him in, his hand resting on your jaw, fingers curling slightly as you suck him in deeper.

“god, i missed this,” he breathes out, his voice catching as you swirl your tongue around him, taking him deeper into your throat. “missed how fucking good you are at this.”

your cheeks flush at the praise, your body humming as joshua teases you from behind, the tip of his cock just narrowly entering you. wonwoo’s hand tightens on your jaw, guiding your movements as you bob your head up and down, your lips stretched around him. the weight of him on your tongue, the taste of him—everything is overwhelming in the best way.

but just as you start to take him in throat, joshua suddenly thrusts into you from behind, hard. the sharp intrusion makes you gasp around wonwoo’s cock, your teeth scraping lightly against him as the sudden cock fills you all at once.

“shit—!” wonwoo curses, his hips jerking as your teeth graze him, not enough to hurt, but enough to make him jolt. his eyes widen in shock, but then a shaky laugh escapes his lips, his free hand tightening in your hair as he steadies you. “motherfucker.”

joshua lets out a loud laugh behind you, clearly amused by wonwoo’s reaction. “sorry about that,” he says, but there’s no real apology in his tone, only satisfaction as he starts moving inside you again, his hips snapping forward with sharp, controlled thrusts that have you whimpering around wonwoo’s cock.

“you’re such a fucking asshole hyung,” wonwoo mutters, but the words are strained, his voice catching as he watches your lips stretch around him. his hand rests on the back of your neck now, guiding your head in time with his shallow thrusts as he slowly fucks your mouth. “fuck, just like that. good girl.”

joshua’s pace is relentless, his hips slamming into you from behind, both filling you—wonwoo in your mouth, joshua inside you.

“god, you’re so fucking tight,” joshua groans, his hands gripping your hips harder as he pushes deeper, the wet, obscene sounds of him fucking you filling the room. “woo, you’ve got her all loosened up, but she’s still so fucking tight around me.”

wonwoo chuckles, but it’s strained, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he watches you struggle to take both of them. “yeah?” he mutters, his voice rough. “she’s so fucking wet, isn’t she? dripping all over you.”

joshua’s pace falters for just a second as he glances up at wonwoo, and for a moment, they lock eyes. it’s strange at first, like neither of them expected to find themselves in this situation—watching each other while they both take you apart. its strange, strange because...

they start to enjoy it.

they enjoy the way their faces contort, the way their moans mix together, the sight of you caught between them—cocks twitching.

joshua whimpers as looking wonwoo's eyes, a smirk playing at his lips as he gives you another sharp thrust, just to watch you choke around wonwoo’s cock.

the sound of both of them moaning, cursing, panting—it only makes you wetter, makes you crave more.

“shit,” joshua breathes out, his voice strained as he keeps up the brutal pace, his hand sliding up your back, fingers digging into your skin. “fuck, you’re taking us so well.”

wonwoo’s face contorts, his hand tightening in your hair as his cock twitches in your mouth. “you’re gonna make me come if you keep going like this,” he groans, his eyes rolling back slightly as he fights to stay in control.

you whimper around him, your body shaking as the pleasure builds higher and higher, and you can feel yourself getting closer, every movement, every touch is pushing you nigher, and the sounds of their moans, the way they’re both so fucking into it—it’s enough to send you over.

“cum for us,” joshua growls, as his hips slam into you again, harder this time.

wonwoo’s grip tightens, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he watches you, his fingers flexing slightly on the back of your neck. “show us how fucking good you are.”

your body finally gives in. you come hard, your entire body shaking with the power of it, your lips trembling around wonwoo’s cock as you gasp for air.

“fuck,” wonwoo groans, his hand tightening on your neck as his hips stutter forward, his cock twitching in your mouth as he follows you over the edge.

joshua isn’t far behind, his hips slamming into you one last time before he lets out a sly, throaty moan, his body tensing as he spills inside you, filling you up.

wonwoo pulls out of your mouth slowly, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips as he looks down at you. you look at him shaking your head, taking his cock inside your wet mouth again.

the man melts on the headboard, joshua sat, looking how you look eager to make wonwoo cum, like you just cant leave him hanging. your knees give out, but your neck keep working to bob your head.

there's a line of spit dripping from your chin, as you suck him moaning, as the simply action of sucking him, was stimulating you. wonwoo eyes are glued with joshua's, the hyung biting his own bottom lip as he watches every single detail.

wonwoo feels the cock twitching, the gaze of his hyung plus the warmth of your mouth, making him cum on spot. he looks back at you again, the cum filling your tongue, leaving traces of it on your chin and neck, as you moan dumbly before laying on his thigh.

the boys make eye contact again, a smile spreading across their lips.

[deadhands69]

A Fantasy with Nice Shoulders

MDNI

Katsuki Bakugo helps you after you're hit with a sex quirk, based on the same idea as the Shigaraki one here

Katsuki Bakugo x gn/afab reader

All characters in 3rd year, over 18 and you should be too if you're reading this

Warnings/Content/etc: soft but slightly possessive Bakugo, swearing, very light violence, oral (m/f receiving), slightly public/people listening, sex (various positions), walk of shame.

*the start’s a little angsty but idk how to write anything that doesn’t turn into mushy fluffy smut 

**a lot of feelings of not consenting to being hit by the quirk, but the actual physical interactions are very much consensual/have been wanted for a while

***this one’s long, it got a bit out of hand [4.9k words]

“They thought it would be funny” you hear someone say. A black cloud of dust had just dissipated, leaving a shocked Monoma and Mineta in the middle. “I don’t think they actually realized how dangerous what they did is” added another voice. 

You had all heard of the sex quirk villain terrorizing the city. Every news station had been talking about it all week. 

While on patrol for his internship this morning, Monoma picked the villain’s quirk up attempting to apprehend him to no avail. After some brief convincing from Mineta, they assumed it would be a fun prank to make all of the fem-bodied 3rd years a little horny. What they didn’t realize is this quirk doesn’t just make people a little turned on, it drives them to insanity if not dealt with. 

“A new article was posted on this today, the effects are worse than previously assumed.” you hear Iida’s nearly robotic voice over the crowd “It can cause permanent damage to quirks and mental stability if intercourse isn’t acted upon promptly!”

Oh, I could fucking kill them you think before launching yourself across the room. Monoma dodges and yells that he’s so sorry and will make it right before running out the door to get help. Mineta on the other hand, is still in shock.

You make quick work of him, leaving him tied to a chair in the common area covered in bruises. The teachers will arrive soon with Monoma and they can deal with it. Turning away and walking to your dorm room, you hear him hurling some insult at you but can’t be bothered to listen.

Most of your classmates are trickling out of the area. Fortunately, the others in your class affected by the quirk all seem to be taken care of. Your best friend Shoto is even leaving with his crush. You’re happy for him but can’t say it doesn’t hurt a bit that he didn’t bother to check on you. It’s not a big deal though, Momo needs help. 

And you’ll be fine. 

You think. 

Or maybe you won’t be.

The happiness for your friends using this as a catalyst to confess to their crushes feels sharply in contrast with the overwhelming loneliness and dread you feel walking back to your room alone. Sure, you have a crush on someone too but he left earlier this morning and you didn’t expect him to be back until tomorrow night. Bakugo frequently leaves on the weekends to visit his parents.

You consider texting Denki or Kiri for his number but they just left with their crushes as well and you’d rather not interrupt them. 

Besides, even if Bakugo was here, you don’t think that would make much of a difference. To put it lightly, he doesn’t seem to be into you. When you and Shoto hang out in the common area like you always do, his red eyes glare at you from across the room. Just seeing you seems to put him in a bad mood. He doesn’t even yell at you like everyone else, seeming to ignore your mistakes as if they aren’t worth his time to correct. He did argue with you once, the first day of school but when you threw it back at him he just stared at you. After that, he always seemed indifferent. It was disappointing, his sass seems like it could be fun sometimes. 

You’d since written it off as a lost cause and tried to move on. Still, there’s something that draws you to him that you can’t quite place. Something in his eyes that hints things could be different. 

You close the door to your dorm, comforted by the familiar space. Iida’s words ring out in your head again “...permanent damage...”

That’s just one article, maybe this won’t be as bad as they say you think before a dizzy spell makes you double over.

Flopping face first into your bed, you scream into your pillow.

Katsuki Bakugo just got back from the gym, walking into an uncharacteristically deserted common room. It is Saturday, right? His eyes light up when he sees Mineta still bound to the chair you left him in.

You didn’t fucking ask for this.

Someone finally snapped, good for them. He’s a little sad to have missed it. 

“What happened?”

Mineta stammers at the looming figure above him before blurting out random bits of the story. “t-the villain. Sex quirk. And Monoma- we thought it was harmless but then-”

Of course he’d heard all about this quirk, who hadn’t. Clearly Mineta.

“Are you that fucking stupid?”

“N-no we just thought-” 

Bakugo was losing interest, having put the dots together by now. At this point, Mineta was rambling how it would be okay, listing the names of their classmates who had left together.

“Jiro and Kaminari, Ochaco and Midor-”

“Raccoon eyes and Red, [y/n] and Icy Hot, yeah yeah”

“What? No. Todoroki didn’t leave with [y/n], he left with Momo.”

“Huh?” Curiosity replacing the disappointment in his voice. “Who’s with [y/n] then?”

“No one, they left alone. Serves them right. That delinquent’s the one who did this to me!”

“Glad someone finally did,” Bakugo mutters under his breath, smacking Mineta with a small blast while walking past him to the stairs.

Back in your room: you’re losing it. Every article says the same thing: you’re fucked. You’d read as many as you could before the overwhelming desire became too much to handle and you couldn’t keep track of the sentences anymore. You tried to fix it yourself too, but no matter how hard you tried your touch only seemed to amplify the problem. Leaving you feeling overheated, your panties desperately drenched. It’s only been fifteen minutes, this will get even worse.  

“Oh come on, you can’t just leave me here - wait!”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

It’s probably one of your friends, you think, wondering who would bang so loudly on your door (also who finished that quickly????) In the heat of the quirk, you’d taken off your hoodie - leaving you in a nearly see through white tank top and the tiny athletic shorts you’d been wearing all day. Your friend’s wouldn’t care though.

KNOCK KNOCK.

You make your way to the door, thighs clenching around your aching groin as you walk. Swinging it open, you find yourself face to face with a black skull hoodie. Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest before remembering, he doesn’t like you. And he’s not even supposed to be here this weekend. Why’s he here?

“Bakugo, why are you here?” you grumble, sounding much more gruff than intended.

“Uh, nice to see you too?” his fingers tap impatiently on the door frame next to your shoulder.

“Any other day, I’d love to word spar with you but today I just can’t.” you turn to close the door.

“Why? Are you mad your crush left with someone else?” 

“What?” you rub your eyes in confusion before getting distracted. Bakugo is hot in workout clothes on a normal day. This quirk was rendering it nearly impossible to concentrate on his words. Not with the way every muscle in his thighs appears to be sculpted into his pants, leading up to his-

“Icy Hot.” he repeats himself, “He left with pony tail. ‘s why you’re pissed, right?”

Oh, that. You’d forgotten about that.

“What? No. Shoto and I are just friends. Besides, he’s had a crush on her forever and she needed his help.” you say blankly.

“You needed help too though,” that one stung. He continues, “sounds like a shitty friend if you ask me.”

“Look. If you’re just here to criticize my friendships, I can’t deal with it right now. Are you done?“ your voice breaks. You step back slightly, hoping to hide in the dimness of your room. He’s not wrong, but you really don’t want him to see you cry. 

“I-” he notices the tear in the corner of your eye and knows that one hit too close. He’s off to a bad start. If he keeps talking like that, you’ll definitely slam the door in his face. 

Much more quietly he tries again. “Look. I didn’t mean to- fuck, I’m so bad this.” Biting his lip, he wipes his hands on his pants before shoving them in the front of his hoodie. His cheeks flush, making the scar under his eye look pale in comparison. Is he nervous? That can’t be it.

Regaining his composure, he looks back at you. “I came to see if you’re okay, if you n-need anything.” 

It’s the most quiet you’d ever seen him. He can’t look you in the eyes. Glancing down, he notices how see-through your shirt is before quickly looking away. He focuses hard on the walls of your room, hands still deep in his pocket.

Of course you’d always wanted Katsuki Bakugo in your dorm room, but assumed it would be different. You imagined that one day he’d start fighting with you like everyone else and fighting would turn into play fighting which would turn into him being nice every once in a while. You always assumed, under his prickly exterior, he’d be soft and sweet inside. You’d never seen it though. Not even when the prettiest girls in your school threw themselves at him, only to be on the receiving end of an explosion. Still, you hoped maybe one day you’d be the one who could break through that, finding something loving underneath. Your crush was all built on a fantasy, but it was a nice fantasy. A nice fantasy, with nice shoulders. 

Back to reality.

He at least thought to be here now, which is better than the apathy you were used to. It’s a start.

Closing the door behind him, you turn to walk back to your bed when the world shifts. The dizziness had been coming in waves, this is just another one. You could expect it now. Tensing to hit the ground, you’re engulfed by his athletic arms instead.

“Come in,” you whisper “I really don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Holy shit [y/n], you okay?” he holds you in his arms, looking down at your face.

“Oh, yeah. This has just been happening,” you trail off, hardly aware of what you’re saying. You’re trying to find up from down, only to find every direction your body leads you to is him.

“This has been happening the whole time??” his clenched jaw could easily be mistaken for anger but the waver in his voice gives away his concern. He doesn’t seem to mind you grasping his sweatshirt to right yourself. His body feels warm against you, much warmer than you - making you wonder how he’s managing to be so overdressed right now. Pulling closer, he feels firm under his soft worn hoodie. He smells like laundry detergent and deodorant, with a subtle sweetness. The throbbing in your tight shorts worsens, the quirk-induced ache leaves you feeling empty. You need more of this. More of him.

The dizziness passes and you’re back on your feet. He lets go of you but keeps his arms near as you steady yourself against the wall. 

Deep breath. If your friends managed to confess to their crushes today, you can too. Your situation might be a bit different, but he’s not stupid. He knew very well what he was walking into when he showed up. He has to expect this.

Here it goes. 

“Bakugo?”

“Yeah? D’ya need somethin?”

“I need your help.”

“Whaddya need?”

“You.”

He nods, understanding. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“Really?” That’s all it took? Holy shit.

“Pshh. What kind of a damned hero would I be if I can’t even fuck a sex quirk out of ya?” the mock confidence would normally make you cringe but he stepped closer and your face is now inches from his. His hands move to the wall behind you, caging you between his arms. Looking down at you, he pauses.

He wants to throw you on the bed. To shove you face first into the mattress and make you scream his name all day for every other girl in the dorms to hear while they’re being awkwardly fumbled by amateurs. He wants to fuck you as hard as he can, so good it’ll ruin anyone else for you. He wants to make everyone jealous of you. 

But when he’s right here with you. 

When he leans in closer. 

His lips barely brush against yours. 

Bringing his arms down from the wall, he cups your cheeks. Holding you softly, pulling you in closer but just as sweet. It isn’t the rough boldness you would expect from him, but it was explosive in its own way. Every subtle move of his lips drags up wishful feelings you’d been burying deep inside you for the past three years.

He pulls back for air, his heavy eyelids opening to see you confused at him.

“Oh.” you breathe.

“Did I do somethin wrong?”

“No, I just didn't expect that.”

He rolls his eyes. 

“You’re just being… nicer than I expected,” you clarify. Understatement of the fucking year.

“’m never mean to you” he mumbles. Even in the low lighting you can see how hard he’s blushing. To hide his embarrassment, he closes the gap between your lips again - this time with more confidence. Mouthes pressing together, his tongue dancing with yours.

Taking this as an invitation to move forward, your hands embrace his body. Exploring every inch you’d only dreamed of. The soft skin of his neck you’d grown accustomed to staring at sitting behind him in class. The ridges of his back you watch flex under his suit when he’s training. You take off his sweatshirt to run your hands over his arms, his black tank top giving you a better view of the muscles and scars that cover them. Fingers lingering on every curve. You pull your hands from the top of his chest down to his thighs. Your touch veers up his inner leg when his hand grabs your wrist, stopping you.

Grimacing at himself for the pause, he bites his lip to collect his words.

He definitely can’t say he hasn’t thought about doing this with you. He has. Constantly. To a point, he maybe wondered if it was unhealthy. It’s actually the reason he went to the gym this morning, he needed to think of anything else but your ass in the tiny little shorts you were wearing while casually making a cup of coffee. The ones you’re wearing now, pressed up against him.

But having you now? Like this?

“Wait.” His voice is gritty but softer than you’d expect.“What?” 

“Things ain’t gonna be weird with us, right?”

“No weirder than ever. Why?” 

He looks away momentarily. Not wanting to say it if you hadn’t been thinking the same thing. For his own sake though, he can’t bring himself to leave this unaddressed.

“Cuz I skipped a few steps, I was supposta take you out and stuff first.”

“Well, I’ll let you know to ask me out in advance next time I plan to get hit with a sex quirk.”

“‘m serious. ‘m not fucking this up.” 

“You can take me out later.” you smile, his eyes soften looking into yours. Something in his stare makes you melt like ice cream on a summer day. Is this the sweetness you’d always dreamed of?

Feeling too hot, you take off your tank top, throwing it on the ground nearby. His eyes drop and the corner of his mouth creeps into a smile. His hands move to your waist before gliding up to trace the shape of you. He follows your lead - pulling his shirt off and exposing the scars scattered over his toned body.

Granting your own wish, your hands trail down the V along his hips and into his pants. Closer, you need to be closer.

Without thinking you drop to your knees. The pants don’t leave much to the imagination, his outline appearing rock hard already (and he didn’t even get hit with that quirk). Peeling back the fabric, his cock bounces out heavily. It’s massive in a way that would usually scare you but with the audaciousness of a sex quirk taking over your inhibitions, you only want it more. Grasping the soft skin with both hands, you bring the dripping pink tip to your mouth. You have to. It’s so beautiful and you need it. He gasps as your tongue lolls out and you bob your head forward.   

One of his hands finds your neck, thumb gently caressing the back of your head; the other planted on his own face leaning over you with his elbow into the wall to steady himself. You watch his abs flex with every heavy breath before your eyes find his.  

“Fuck, you’re so fucking good” he groans. You moan at the sound of his voice, sending vibrations through him.

He doesn’t last long. To be honest, he’s a little embarrassed by this but he really had been thinking about you in these shorts all day and didn’t expect this to happen. Less than a minute later, his hips are sputtering while he whimpers “wait, [y/n] gonna cum.”

Perfect.

Even in your throat, you can’t take him all the way in at this angle. Increasing the speed of your hands, you pull your mouth back enough to look up at his face again while still working his sensitive tip. His brows furrow and he bites his lip, exhaling hard while gripping your hair tighter. 

“Fuck… cumming” he whines through clenched teeth. His dick gushing in your mouth.

You stare up into his crimson eyes, licking him while letting his load drip through your lips down your chest. The astounded look on his face says he’s into it. 

Milking out the last drop, you let him gaze at you while catching his breath. You grab your tank top to wipe your chest and face off but he’s already pulling you up before you can finish. Pressing you back into the wall. His lips find yours as he cups his hand around your cheek.

“So fucking pretty,” he mumbles between kisses, “now it’s my turn.”

Suddenly, his strong hands grip the backs of your thighs. Not removing his lips from yours, he carries you across the room to your bed. Laying you across his lap, he takes the shirt still in your hands and finishes cleaning his cum off of you. Still worked up, every touch he gives is met with your moans. Noticing this, he works his hands around your body. Lightly grazing and squeezing where he pleases. Taking off the shorts he’d been daydreaming about removing all day. You’re soaked through your panties, pressing hard into him as his fingers gently pass over you.

“Wanna sit on my face?” he asks, knowing you’re dying to grind into him any way you can.

Absolutely, you do.

A little too eagerly, you shove him back onto your bed - he doesn’t mind. First, you peel the wet fabric from between your legs. Climbing over him, you position yourself above his face. Your ankles slide under his shoulders, fingers tangling with his above his head to steady yourself. You slam into him, dropping harder than intended (okay, you really want this.) A bit rough, but you know Dynamite can take it. Slightly overwhelmed at your enthusiasm, he groans into you before his wet tongue laps at your folds. Sucking and biting at your clit as you ride his face. His hand follows over yours as you move to grip his blonde hair. 

You’re almost there.

KNOCK KNOCK.

“Hey, [y/n] are you okay in there?” Mina’s distinct voice sounds through your door, “we’re worried about you.”

“Yeah, I’m.. uhm. I’m good.” you yell back, trying (and slightly failing)  to control your breath.

Glancing down, Bakugo’s eyes light up. Without warning, he shoves his tongue into you. Your world spins.

“Fuckkk” you moan under your breath, gripping his hair harder. He’s enjoying this.

Of course the other hero students would immediately jump back into helping people, but now? There’s no way you’re answering the door right now.

Shoto inquires next,  “are you sure, we read more and-”

“Yeah, I’m- I’m fine!” you manage to get out before throwing your face down and exhaling hard into a pillow. You feel your pussy throb as you cream on his tongue. He’s still not slowing down, determined to make you break. His hands now squeezing hard around your thighs, pressing you into him.

“I think someone’s in there,” Mina giggles. 

“We should probably give them space, it’s the manly thing to do right?” Kirishima adds.

“Wait, I wanna know who it is!” Sero’s voice chimes in. 

How many people are out there??

“In that case,” Momo adds, “[y/n], I made these for you. I’ll leave them out here, okay? Hope you’re being safe!” Something slides under your door but you can’t make out what it is.

You continue to hold your breath, clenching around his relentless tongue.

Finally, their voices trail off down the hallway. Bakugo (you should probably call him Katsuki after that) lessens his grip allowing you to roll onto your bed. Pulling your face away from the drool and bite mark covered pillow, you start to catch your breath. He presses himself up, rubbing his messier than usual hair and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. After a quick kiss on your forehead, his heavy footsteps make their way to your door and back before throwing a few condoms on your bedside table.

Useful. Thanks Creati.

He decides it’s his turn to be on top. With your legs wrapped around his hips, he slowly presses forward. His tip slides into your wetness and you feel yourself stretch around him. Bringing his lips to yours, he kisses you like earlier - soft, passionate. He’s being so sweet you wonder how this is the same person who was just tongue fucking you, trying to get you to scream while all of your friends listened. The same person who grumbled and rushed past you this morning without a hello.

“Ready now?” he grins at you.

Considering his glacial pace, you weren’t really sure when it happened: he bottoms out in you before pausing. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, scratching them through his soft hair. Thoughts of who he was earlier blur away, taking in the feeling of him in you now. He slowly resumes movement. 

His tongue inside you felt amazing earlier, but his dick is even better. Hitting every sensitive spot you didn’t even know you had. He sucks your bottom lip into his, gently nipping as he picks up the pace. You’re panting hard, kisses becoming sloppier. He thrusts into you, harder and deeper.

“Fuck Katsuki,” you moan, “gonna cum.” 

“Do it. Cum on my dick,” he growls back, slamming harder into you.

Your throbbing cunt pulses around him while you scream in his ear (you'd feel bad but it's not like he can hear that well anyways.) Hands dragging down his back, pulling him in closer to you.

A jolt of pain amplifies your pleasure as his teeth connect with your throat. Biting down while he whimpers into your neck. You feel him pump into you, exploding white into you while you ride out the waves of your own orgasm.

As you both come down, you run your hands over his scared face. Wanting to cling to any moment of softness you can get from him. He closes his eyes, melting into your touch. 

“Thanks for your help,” you whisper in his ear.

“Help? Oh. Yeah,” his gravelly voice is soft against your cheek, “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, you don’t have to thank me.” He pulls out, leaving you feeling empty again.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, tying a knot in the condom before tossing it.

You stand up. No dizziness yet. You test your quirk. Almost back to normal.

He picks up another condom from the table, giving himself a few strokes before putting it on.

“Again?” you ask.

“You’re not through the quirk yet, are you?” His red eyes pierce through you and you know there’s no use trying to hide anything from him.

“Almost.”

“I can do better than almost,” he smiles and find yourself pressed into the wall again. His calloused hands running over you in contrast to his smooth lips leaving a trail of small pecks over your neck. 

In one fluid motion, he grips the back of your legs, pulling you up while sliding you back onto his dick - this time faster with more ease. You gasp, clutching his shoulders while he roughly thrusts into you. 

“ya feel so good on my cock, you’re doing so fucking good,” he chokes out between heavy breaths, "you look so fucking pretty taking me like that."

The pressure in your gut rises every time he pounds into you before spilling out, sending pulses of satisfaction through your whole body. You shove your head into his shoulder, crying his name while he fucks you harder. Toes curling as your heels dig into his back.

Before you can catch your breath, he throws you back on your bed.

Strong hands pull you onto your knees, your back arched, and face finding your pillow again. Grabbing your ass to bring you closer, he penetrates you again. His fast pace resuming, making you whimper into your pillow.

His hands find yours, bringing his elbows to either side of your shoulders. Groaning in your ear “ya sound so fucking pretty, louder for me,” as he plows into you. You scream, feeling yourself pulse around him as your pleasure cascades through you.

“Ka-katsuki” you whine, the sound of his name in your voice sending him over the edge.

With another hard thrust, he stutters his hips into you, exhaling hard. For the third time today, you feel him flex in you, filling the condom. You stop biting your pillowcase to look at him. His bright eyes staring back at you through heavy lids.

He thinks you look so fucked out and pretty on your tear-stained pillow.

“You did so good,” he breathes, “you feel better now?”

“Definitely”

Definitely better but 

So.

Fucking.

Exhausted. 

A sliver of light slices through your room. Your hands move across the bed but it’s empty.  Yesterday feels like a hazy dream. The ache between your legs reminds you it was definitely real. Your neck and hips are sore too, must have fallen asleep at a weird angle. Blinking your eyes open wearily, there’s a note on the pillow next to you. 

You know you should clean up more, go to the bathroom down the hallway but you’re so tired you can’t manage to do more than melt into your sheets. The last thing you remember before drifting off to sleep is Katsuki helping you get dressed for bed and wrapping himself around you.

Had to leave early this morning for extra training but let me buy you coffee. Text me when you wake-up and we can meet at that place on the edge of campus.

Katsuki xxx-xxx-xxxx

You check your phone. 

[you have 57 new messages and 14 missed calls] 

The latest few, from Mina, asking who’s in your room. Quickly, you swipe them away. That’s a long story and you’re not sure how you’ll tell it. You can deal with it later. You text Katsuki. 

You [heading out now, meet at the coffee shop?]

Katsuki [see you soon]

Getting ready in a rush, you quickly throw some pants on before brushing your teeth, pulling your hair out of your face, and heading down the stairs.

Walk normal you remind yourself on the way into the common room, trying to look like Katsuki hadn’t spent half of yesterday pounding his massive dick into you. The rest of the class doesn’t know that yet and considering that it’s new, you aren’t really sure if he wants them to know. That probably wouldn’t be the best way for them to find out, anyways. 

Ochoco’s voice beams behind you “Hey [y/n], you’re alive! We were so worried about you!” 

“Hey Ochoco! Yeah, I’m okay!” you yell back.

Hearing you’re awake, Mina runs from the couch to hug you. “Hey!!!” Her eyes widen. “You had a good night!” she says before giggling “I’ll text you!”

Mineta scoffs at the sight of you before getting far out of your way. Good.

Tsuyu, Iida, and Jiro all stare from the couch, they wave back politely but avoid eye contact. 

Denki high-fives you. 

Sero also high-fives you before running to the couch and handing Jiro money. Is this about beating up Mineta? They can’t possibly know about anything else.

Deku looks mortified. “Uhm.” He grabs at the collar of his shirt.

Is there something on your sweatshirt? Using the window by the exit as a mirror, you check.

Oh, shit. There’s more than something on your sweatshirt. 

Tiredly, you assumed the hoodie you woke up in was yours; this one has a big white skull on the front. Peaking out above that, a massive bite mark covers half your neck. You pull the hood up but it still doesn’t cover it.

You [just looked in the mirror]

You [why didn’t you warn me???]

Katsuki [now everyone knows ur mine 🧡]

[you have 8 new messages]

[faithshouseofchaos]

hi i don't think this is a real request but for franco colapinto it's kinda cliche ikr (but i believe in your writing skills so)

older reader (u don't need to specific the age) who refuse to be with franco bc she thinks it's better for him to be with someone close his age, but ofc they're in love and franco is down bad for her even though she's kinda cruel sometimes

so angst with a happy end? or at least something realistic? idk and it's up to u to add other stuff! *oh and they're from the same country or foreigners etc*

“She calls me kidz bop” — Franco colapinto x fem!reader

Word count 3.5k

Warnings — Angst, heavy makeouts allusion of smut

This isn’t as good as I thought it would be

Tagged— @crispysoup318 @meeel-things @bieberismysoulmate @dejavuontrack @barcelonaloverf1life @nominsgirl @bluebluesol @chenlesbitxh @ironmaiden1313 @chunkpiboli @kr7-i-know-what-im-doing

Franco watched as y/n stood talking to her fellow driver Something deep inside him wished that she gave him the same attention as she did the rest of them. It didn’t matter if they had feelings for each other. It also didn’t matter that she was so cruel to him and gave him nicknames like Kidz Bop, Teeny Bopper, or Rug Rat.

He didn’t mind the teasing or the nicknames, he could take it. He’s used to being teased by others but not by the one he’s falling for, and he didn’t want to admit it but a part of him knew he was slowly concluding that he loved her. Franco leaned against the garage wall, staring at the ground with his hands shoved in his pockets.

He continued to observe y/n’s body language. The way she stood with her arms crossed, the way she laughed at the other driver’s jokes, even the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was maddening.

Franco clenched his jaw, trying to hold back his frustration. He wanted to speak to her but he was uncertain of what to say. As he watched her, he noticed she was glancing his way. A small smile crept onto his lips as he realized that she was looking his way. He felt a flutter in his chest, a mix of hope and nervousness. He took a deep breath, summoning his courage, and finally stepped forward.

As he approached, he could feel her eyes on him, studying him. He tried to act casually, his hands still in his pockets, but he couldn’t help the way his heart was racing. He cleared his throat, “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

Y/n turned her attention away from her co-drivers and looked at Franco, raising an eyebrow. “Sure, what do you want?”

Franco swallowed hard, trying to ignore the coolness in her voice. He took a step closer, not caring that they had an audience, “Can we talk somewhere a little more private?”

Y/n nodded, gesturing for him to follow her out of the garage. Once they were alone in a secluded area, she turned to him with her arms crossed. “What's on your mind, kidz bop?”

Franco took a deep breath, trying to ignore the nickname. He knew it was her way of keeping him at arm’s length, but it stung nonetheless. He looked into her eyes, gathering his courage. “I wanted to talk to you about us…”

Y/n’s expression remained neutral, but he could see a flicker of something in her eyes. She raised an eyebrow, “What about us?”

Franco rubbed the back of his neck, nervous. “Well, I just wanted to know…if there’s ever a chance for us?”

Y/n let out a snort, “A chance? Kidz bop, you’re way too young for me. You need to find someone your age.” Franco's heart sank at her words, but he tried to hide his disappointment. “I don’t care about age. I just want to be with you.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Yeah, yeah, very romantic. But I’m not interested in dating some kid who still has a curfew. I need someone more mature.” Franco clenched his fists in frustration, “I’m not a kid. I’m just as mature as any other driver out there.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, sure you are. I bet you still have a teddy bear in your bed and your mom still picks out your outfits.” Franco's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he tried to maintain his composure. He couldn’t deny that he had a teddy bear, but he certainly hadn’t asked his mom for fashion advice since he was 12.

“I’m a grown man,” he protested, “Just because I’m a rookie doesn’t mean I’m immature.” Y/n leaned against the wall, still looking unimpressed. “Oh? Prove it then, Teeny Bopper. Show me how mature you are.”

Franco was determined to show her that he wasn’t just some naïve rookie. He took a step closer to her, his heart pounding. “Fine. I’ll prove it to you.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his sudden confidence. “Alright, I’m listening. Go ahead and impress me, rug rat.” Franco took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He was suddenly keenly aware of how close they were standing to each other. He could smell her perfume, a soft, musky scent that made his head spin.

He looked into her eyes, unflinching. “I’ll prove it by showing you that I’m serious about this. I’m not just some kid who doesn’t know what he wants. I know what I want, and it’s you.” Y/n’s expression softened just a bit. She was impressed by his directness, but still unconvinced. “You’re young, Franco. You don’t know what you want. You just think you do.”

Franco took another step closer to her. “I may be young, but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I’m done with being treated like a kid. I know what I want, and I’m not going to give up until I get it.” Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at his words, but she tried to maintain her cool facade. “You’re not going to give up, huh? You’re stubborn, aren’t you?”

Franco smirked, feeling a rush of confidence. “I can be when I want something. And I want you.”

He took another step forward, closing the gap between them. He was now standing so close to her that he could feel the heat of her body. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as he stepped closer. She hadn’t expected him to be so direct. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, and she had to fight the urge to reach out and touch him. But she held her ground, refusing to let him see how her resolve was starting to crumble.

“You don’t even know what you’re getting yourself into, kidz bop,” she teased, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice just before she walked away from him. Franco watched her walk away, a mix of frustration and determination coursing through his veins. He knew he had gotten to her this time, he had seen the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

He wasn’t going to give up, not until he had proven to her that he was serious. He was in love with her, and he wasn’t going to let her brush him off like some naive rookie.

Once again Franco found himself watching and observing y/n and this time was brought out of his thoughts by a large hand clapping him on the shoulder “You good there Franco?” Charles asked. Franco looked over at him and then back at y/n whose eyebrows were bunched up together and her lips in a thin tight line.

“Yeah I’m good,” Franco answered, looking down at his feet. Charles chuckled at Franco’s obvious lie. He followed Franco’s gaze to y/n, his smirk growing even more as he looked at her. “You have it bad don’t you?” Charles teased. Franco quickly shoved Charles’s arm off him as he gave him a nasty glare.

Charles cackled in response. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. How long are you gonna sit on your ass and not do something?” Charles said.

“There’s a reason why I haven’t,” Franco said, still stubbornly keeping his eyes on y/n.

“Which is?” Charles prompted.

“She’s too old for me,” Franco said. Charles’s jaw dropped.

“Bullshit! She’s what, 26? You’re 21! It’s not that big of an age difference, "he said.

“She thinks it is,” Franco said. Charles shook his head in disbelief at Franco’s stupidity.

“Goddamnit Franco. You’re a pretty handsome kid, why are you letting her have that much control over you? If you feel something for her then do something about it” Charles said.

Franco tore his eyes from y/n to look at Charles “There is something between us. But every time I try to talk to her about it, she shuts it down. Says that she’s too old for me and would rather I find someone my age” he confessed. Charles let out a scoff “She doesn’t mean it. She’s just running away because she doesn’t want to admit her feelings for you” he said.

Franco shook his head. “You don’t know that and besides she’s mean to me and she calls me kidz bop, teeny bopper, or rug rat.”

Charles rolled his eyes “Franco I’ve known y/n for much longer than you being mean to someone is her love language trust me the meaner she is to someone the more she cares for them. She calls me a pretty boy. She calls Fernando an old man. I've seen the way she looks at you. There’s no way she feels nothing.” Franco’s heart skipped a beat at Charles’s words.

“W-what do you mean ‘the way she looks at me’” he asked.

Charles smirked again “I mean you’re constantly in her line of sight whenever you’re in a room. Anytime she’s near you, she always seems to be hyper-aware of it. I don’t think she’s as immune to your charms as she makes herself seem.”

As much as Franco wanted to believe what Charles was telling him it was too hard. He’s seen the way y/n talks to the other drivers. They weren’t like that.

“I get that your old ass has much more relationship experience than I do. But you just don’t understand” Franco muttered, refusing to look at Charles. Charles shook his head at Franco “You’re a lot denser than I thought you were. If you’re gonna waste your opportunity with her then that’s your problem, not mine” he said before he sauntered off, leaving Franco by himself.

Franco stood there, his mind reeling from Charles's words. He couldn't shake the feeling that Charles was right about y/n. That she had feelings for him beneath all her harsh words and belittling nicknames. But he couldn't be sure.

Franco looked over to where y/n was still standing, her expression still tight and cold. He tried to muster up the courage to approach her again, but he couldn’t find the words. He was too overwhelmed by the possibility that she could feel something for him. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever rejection came his way. Franco began to slowly make his way toward her, his heart pounding in his chest. With each step, he felt as though he was walking through mud, his legs refusing to cooperate.

Finally, he stood in front of her, his eyes locked on hers. “Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his voice much softer than he had intended.

She looked up at him, her eyes flickering with an unreadable expression. For a moment, he thought she was going to brush him off like she had so many times before.

“Fine. What do you want?” she asked, her voice as icy as ever. Franco swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. He had practiced all the things he wanted to say in his head, but now that he was standing in front of her, all of his words seemed to have vanished.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I just wanted to talk to you about us." "I know we're colleagues, but there's something more there, isn't there?" he said, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

She paused for a moment, her expression faltering for just a split second before her walls went back up. "Whatever gave you that idea?" she asked, feigning indifference. Franco took a small step forward, closing the space between them. He could feel the heat radiating off of her body, making him heady with desire.

"The way you look at me. The way you always watch me. I know you feel it too. You're just too scared to admit it." Her breath caught in her throat as he neared. She tried to pretend that his words did not affect her, but he could see the subtle change in her breathing, the way her body seemed to gravitate towards him.

"Scared? I'm not scared of anything, least of all you," she retorted, hoping he didn't notice the waver in her voice. "Then prove it," he said, his voice suddenly low and intense. He was so close to her now that he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her pulse fluttered in her neck.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering against the softness of her skin. Her breath hitched at his touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. She fought the urge to lean into his touch, to finally give in to the overwhelming amount of tension that hung in the air between them. But she forced herself to take a step back, pulling herself out of his reach. "I don't have anything to prove to you," she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

Franco couldn’t help the pang of disappointment that shot through him as she pulled away. He knew he was getting under her skin, but she was still fighting him.

But he had a card he hadn't played yet.

“Then why is this so hard?” he asked, his tone soft and gentle. “If we're just colleagues, then it should be easy for you to turn me down. Right?”

Inwardly, she was cursing his stubbornness. But he was right, and she was losing the battle with herself. She had been trying so hard to keep her feelings locked away, to deny the attraction that was growing hotter and hotter each day.

She tried to come up with a witty retort, but her throat was dry, and her mind was fuzzy. The way he was looking at her, the way he was so sure of himself, it was chipping away at her defenses. He took another step closer, closing the gap between them again. “Come on, admit it. This isn’t just some one-sided thing. You feel it too.”

She could feel his breath on her skin, the heat of his body so close to hers. She thought about denying it, pushing him away once more, but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, she did the one thing she had promised herself she wouldn’t do.

She melted.

It was as if all the tension and resistance she had built up just disappeared. She found herself leaning into him, her body drawn to his like a magnet.

She looked up at him, her eyes betraying the vulnerability and desire that she had tried so hard to hide. "Franco..." she whispered. The sound of his name on her lips sent a jolt of electricity through his body. He could see the change in her eyes, the way they darkened with emotion.

He moved closer to her, his arms closing around her waist, pulling her against him. He leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from her ear. "Say it. Say you want me." The heat of his body against hers combined with the huskiness of his voice sent shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes, her body molding itself to his.

She took a shaky breath, her voice wavering. "I want you, Franco. Damn it, I want you." A rush of satisfaction and relief washed over him as he heard her words. He’d finally broken through her defenses, and now he had her exactly where he wanted her.

He pulled her even closer, his hands slipping under the hem of her shirt, his fingers tracing the bare skin of her back.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that," he murmured against her neck. She let out a soft gasp as he touched her skin, her body arching into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair.

She had tried to deny it for so long, but now that she had finally given in, it was like an unstoppable force of nature. All she wanted was to be closer to him, to feel him completely. He claimed her mouth in a deep, searing kiss, his body pressing her against the wall. His hands roamed over her skin, exploring every curve and contour of her body. It felt like a dam had broken, and all the pent-up desire that had been building between them was suddenly unleashed.

She returned his kiss with equal fervor, her tongue tangling with his. She ran her hands along his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt.

She wanted more, so much more. She was drowning in the sensation of him, losing herself in the heat and the passion of their embrace. Franco pressed himself against her, trapping her between the wall and his body. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin.

He could feel her coming undone, her body growing more and more pliant against his. He could tell that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and it was driving him insane. She let out a desperate gasp as he found a particularly sensitive spot beneath her ear, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly. She couldn't think straight, her mind fuzzy with desire. The only thing that existed at that moment was the feel of his body against hers, the taste of his skin, and the way his hands sent sparks of pleasure dancing over her skin.

He continued to explore her body, his hands drifting down her sides, his fingertips tracing the edge of her waistband. He dipped his head lower, his lips trailing along her collarbone, then down her chest, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses on her skin. She whimpered and shivered beneath his touch, her body becoming a raw nerve of sensation. Her hips rocked against his, seeking more contact, more friction. She felt like she was on fire, burning up from the inside out.

He could feel her body reacting to his every touch, the way her hips moved against his, the way her hands clutched at his hair, pulling him closer. He could hear the soft gasps and moans escaping her lips, the sound sending a flood of heat straight to his core.

He pulled away just long enough to look at her, his eyes dark and intense.

“God, I love it when you make those sounds,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. The desire in his gaze, the rough rasp of his voice, it was too much for her. She reached up and pulled him back down to her, her lips crashing against his in a fierce kiss.

Her body was overwhelmed by the intensity of her desire for him, the need for him almost unbearable. He met her kiss with urgency, his tongue delving into her mouth, claiming her completely. He pressed himself against her, his body fitting perfectly against hers.

He let his hands slide down to her thighs, lifting her so her legs wrapped around his waist, pinning her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around him, her body flush against his. She could feel every muscle, every contour, every inch of him. She couldn't get enough, she wanted to be even closer.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him tight against her, her tongue exploring his mouth with feverish desperation. He pressed himself harder against her, his body desperate to get even closer to hers. He let his hands slide up to her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. He wanted to taste every inch of her, to mark her as his. She tilted her head back, exposing her neck to him, her body arching into his touch. A soft moan escaped her lips as he licked and sucked at her skin, his stubble sending sparks of pleasure dancing across her nerve endings. He found a particularly sensitive spot just below her ear, and he lingered there, his lips and tongue working her into a frenzy. He could feel her responding to his touch, her body trembling against his, moans and gasps escaping from her lips.

He nipped and sucked at her skin, leaving a trail of red marks down her neck and collarbone. She was completely undone, her mind consumed with nothing but him and the pleasure he was causing her. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body writhing against his.

Each flick of his tongue and each press of his lips sent shockwaves of ecstasy through her body, stoking the fire that burned within her. He pulled back slightly, taking in the sight of her - flushed and breathless, completely at his mercy. He wanted to claim her completely, to make her his in every way possible.

He lowered her down just a little bit, his body still pressed close to hers, and he looked into her eyes, his gaze intense and hungry. She gazed up at him, her eyes dark and hooded with desire. Her hair was tousled, and her shirt wrinkled where his hands had been. She looked wrecked already and they'd barely even started.

She met his gaze, her own just as hungry and intense. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her, and nothing was going to stop them now.

[head---ache]

5k DTIYS!!

I have 5k followers and honestly!!! That's crazy!!! How is that number even real?/hj Thank you all so much!! The ammount of support I've gotten this past year has been insane, and I couldn't be any more grateful!! So, what about a fun little activity in return? And what's even better, you could win a drawing from me;] So join me and re draw this cute little Emmie doodle in your style, and let's see how it goes!!

Rules under the cut!!

You can post your entry from... Today!! And while you can still do this challenge after, I'll close entries for the competition by October 18th (so you can re draw this whenever you want, but if you post it after this deadline, you won't be participating for a prize).

You can post your drawing in any and all other social media, but in order to participate, you have to post it here on Tumblr. I won't be checking other social media. Also, you have to tag me! AND I will not be accepting any entries sent to me via DM or ask box (as in, instead of posting it. You can send it to me if its already posted).

You can change as much as you want as long as you're keeping the character and concept. So, you just have to draw Emmie talking on the phone, anything else is up to you!

If you're discouraged to participate because you don't trust your drawing skills, don't be afraid! I will not be judging on skills, but rather creativity (which is why you're allowed to change as much as you want), so consider still giving yourself a chance!! Be as creative and crazy as you want!!!

Remember this character is a teenager!! So any sexual depiction of her will not be accepted! Treat my baby right>:[

I know this challenge is called Draw this in Your Style, but fuck that, I'm accepting other forms of art as well!! So writing, sculpting, idk video?? Whatever it is that you want to do, go ahead and do it!!! Go crazy go stupid!!/ref

There will be three winners!! In no particular order, they all get the same prize. Examples of what you can ask for below.

And that's that!!! Have fun!! And again, thank you all so much for 5k followers! I really couldn't thank you enough 🌟

[hyunebunx]

saw the soft thoughts post and i hope i’m not late >.< please forgive my typos or grammatical errors love i just woke up 🥹

soooo imagine a lazy saturday morning with hyunjin where you both just wanted to sleep in and cuddle on your shared bet until late in the morning. apparently you had to force yourself to get up because you were getting hungry and hyunjin—being a clingy boyfriend—is sticking to you like glue, and be like “noooooo don’t go!!!” because he doesn’t want to get out of bed but you had to drag him up. he became a pouty baby while being clingyyyy maybe a backhug when you were cooking, a stolen kiss when you were about to eat, helping you wash the dishes but he put some soap bubbles on the tip of your nose, asked you to go out and the spend the rest of the day with him outside maybe stroll around the city, an art museum date, go to a café and watch him sketch/paint you~

ughh to be loved by an artist bro i’m still half asleep so i hope i’m making sense... anyway have a good one deni ! 😽🩷

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff and a loooot of kissing, you've been warned lol

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: my love <3 this is the cutest idea ever!! thank you so so much for trusting me to write it hehe <3 listen, this got quite steamy in the middle, idk what happened i blacked out fgsdgkj can't help myself when it comes to this man apparently. anywayss, hope you'll enjoy it <333

Mornings spent sleeping in with the love of your life, all cuddle up and intertwined, were truly your absolute favorite, a blessing you didn’t take for granted. You were both busy people, with busy lives that accommodated one another like it was the most natural thing in the world, fitting together like the last two pieces needed to complete the puzzle which revealed your love story.

Hyunjin was a heavy sleeper, clinging to every thread, no matter how thin, that transported him to dreamland to rest a little more. Just five more minutes, that turned into ten, fifteen, which ended up stretching into half an hour on good days. On the bad ones, when he was more tired than usual, nothing could get Hyunjin out of bed before the afternoon rolled around. You understood – he needed his rest – but it didn’t make missing him and his bright smile any easier.

You never knew you could miss someone even while they were dozing off next to you, blissfully unaware of how your heart almost jumped out of your chest to slip under his shirt just to feel his beating, desperately searching for confirmation he felt the same. And he did, of course he did, how could he not when your name and sweet face were constantly spinning around in his mind like some sort of live wallpaper, making him unable to concentrate even on simple tasks?

Though right now, neither of you was sleeping, cuddling to Hyunjin’s chest with one leg over his lap as you caught him up on the latest work gossip. You’ve been awake for almost two hours now and for once, the universe seemed to be on your side as no sunray managed to peek through the small crack left in the curtains, allowing you to continue lying around in peace.

“Anyway, so the printer caught on fire and that was Kim’s last straw. She threw all the papers on the floor and then proceeded to plop down on them and cry. I felt so bad.”

Despite his empathetic nature, Hyunjin lets out a short laugh, voice still husky and laced with sleep as his fingers tangled in your hair. “How did she even manage to do that?”

“It wasn’t her fault.” You yawn, hiding your face in his chest briefly. “Jay used the printer last to scan pictures of his cat’s toe beans and I guess some fur got stuck in there and ruined everything.”

He slowly shakes his head, whistling. “See, that’s why I’m a dog person.”

Prompting your chin on his chest, you look at him with raised eyebrows. “Ok Mr. meows at cats because he wants to get into their good graces.”

“That was one time!”

You giggle and he joins soon after, staring deeply into your eyes until the laughter dies down and every thought leaves your mind like it wasn’t even there to begin with. Dark eyes dart between yours and your lips, subconsciously licking his plush bottom one and telling you exactly where his train of thought has stopped. Patience was not one of Hyunjin’s virtues, so the hand in your hair moves lower to cup the back of your neck, bringing you closer as you quickly adjust, both hands sprawling on his chest to help you lean down and finally connect your lips.

The kiss is slow, lips merging perfectly as neither of you is in any rush, content to take the time to taste each other. However, it quickly gets messy, tongues meeting and complicating the familiar dance, making it hot and breathy but oh so delicious. You’d be lying if you didn’t admit you’ve been waiting for this ever since he woke up, constantly thinking about his rosy lips and driving yourself crazy as whatever he was saying faded in and out of hazy memory.

Hyunjin kissed you like no other, like kissing was an art he invented just to practice on you. One he managed to master throughout the years of your relationship but couldn’t get enough of, obsessed with the idea of improving and finding another unexplored corner he could take over and claim as his own.

A cold hand slides easily under your top, gripping at your waist in an effort to bring you closer, almost causing your arms to give out. You break away from the kiss and Hyunjin whines, displeased but still helps you settle on top of him more comfortably, guiding your body as you straddle his hips.

This new position allows for better access to what you’re both desiring, with Hyunjin wasting no more time in bringing you back down again, capturing your lips. With both hands on exposed thighs, the shirt he gave you to sleep in barely covering anything, Hyunjin loses himself in the taste of you, licking into your mouth and lightly biting on your bottom lip as your hands move lower over his stomach, needing to discard him of the annoying clothing.

You make to pull away but his lips follow, causing him to sit up and move one of his hands on the small of your back for support, not allowing you to slip away from him. With a mind of their own, your hands quickly abandon his shirt and move around his shoulders, meeting at his nape to deepen the kiss and lick at his bottom lip which he appreciates by the groan he lets out.

You feel him everywhere, hands groping and squeezing every bit of your body in the exact way he knew you loved, turning you to putty into his hold. By now, his dark hair is a mess from all the pulling – your fingers needed something to anchor onto.

“Hyun.” You inhale deeply, his lips moving down your jaw, restless.

“Yeah, baby?” He mumbles, barely hearing you.

“Breakfast.” You gasp out as he lightly bites the skin, quick to soothe it with his tongue. “I’m hungry.” Mostly true, you’ve been lying here for hours after all, who wouldn’t be hungry? But also because you knew if you didn’t stop him now, neither of you would get to eat anything before dinner time rolls around.

Hyunjin pauses, hot breath fanning your neck as he slowly tilts his head to look at you, his wet and swollen lips distracting. He’s speechless for a moment, almost like he can’t believe you interrupted him, like a child whose favorite toy is abruptly taken away. When it clicks in his head you are actually serious, Hyunjin barely registers the way you peck his lips as he rolls his eyes.

“Wow, ok connoisseur of romance. What a way to ruin the moment.”

You giggle as he gently lays you down on your back, knowing he could never be truly upset, no matter what kind of stunt you pull. He was most likely thankful you said something, surely hungry himself.

Scooting towards the end of the bed, your feet barely get to touch the hardwood floor before Hyunjin’s arms circle your middle once again, pulling you to his warm chest without a word.

“No, don’t go!” He whines, burring his head in your shoulder in protest.

Your heart squeezes in your chest, pounding from all the love you carried for your other half, the man you couldn’t imagine life without.

“Baby.” You coo, softly running your fingers over his hands on your stomach in a way to coax him. “How am I supposed to cook us breakfast otherwise?”

Hyunjin sighs, squeezing you to his chest for two more heartbeats before releasing his hold and allowing you to stand up. When you turn to face him, one of his big hands has already brought yours to his lips to plant a feather like kiss on your knuckles.

“Don’t go without me.” He mumbles, pouting slightly, and you almost explode like a piñata, staining him with your love and adoration that will surely trap him in this apartment for days trying to get it out. Not like he’d ever mind if that were possible, proudly showing off and talking about your feelings for him to anyone who’d listen, right after talking their ear off about the love he holds for you.

So, that morning, you waddle together to the kitchen like two penguins with Hyunjin refusing to stop hugging you from behind even when you started cooking. And after that, spoon feeding you on the counter and forgetting all about his needs until you threatened to take away his cuddles.

He caved in immediately.

[local-limebug]

DBDA characters + formal desi attire: Charles and Edwin (Pt. 1)

This is not fanart, because I cannot draw, but if any fanartists want to use this as inspo, go ahead. And, before we begin, my fashion sense is not the best, so if any fellow desi people see this and have anything to add, go ahead. These aren't very detailed either tbh, because I am much more well versed in women's desi fashion than men's. Ok, now, let's go.

Charles Rowland

You know I had to start with my favourite desi boy of all time. I'm putting my man in a sherwani because he deserves it. Red's his colour, and it's also the colour associated with weddings in south asian culture, so yes, these pictures are technically bridegroom inspo.

So, I absolutely adore embroidered sherwanis, and I do think Charles would slay one of these beyond imagination. For full outfit references, see below.

Golden and red go together amazingly in desi wear, although they do usually denote wedding wear. But sherwanis fit so wonderfully on the shoulders + Charles' dangly gold earring would go so so well with the outfit !!

Edwin Payne

Yes, I'm imagining the British Raj era white boy in desi attire. Sue me. We all know blue's his colour, so of course I went for the blue sherwanis.

Now, blue and golden are an amazing colour combination and my original choice, because I wanted there to be a common colour between Charles and Edwin, but blue and silver/white was easier to find on Pinterest. You can see golden highlights on a few of these, though, and this next one.

This one is a bit plain but to be quite honest, it has a simple elegance to it that reminded me of Edwin. Its golden highlights mean that it would work best with golden trousers, like Charles' outfits up top.

BUT I also saw this amazing formal shalwar kameez in blue that I do think Edwin would look so so good in, so I have to add it here as a bonus idea.

+ Bonus Payneland

So, desi men's attire also has this thing where the sherwani itself is a muted colour and the man wears a cloth draped around himself in the highlighted colour (IDK what the cloth is called 😭). But I found these similar ones in blue/white and red/golden combo, and yes, it reminded me of Payneland.

LIKE. You can't tell me they wouldn't absolutely slay it. Like these are their wedding outfits to me, like for when they get married to each other.

Anyway, that's the limit for the pictures I can put on this post. Next one up is Crystal and Niko! I am so excited for Niko.

taglist because people seemed to want this and i don't want anyone to miss it. just say the word and i'll tag you for the next part: @queen-of-hobgobblers @mirabel-on-a-bicycle @shipspainfulships @read-write-thrive @justalunaticfangirl @guardianspirits13

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

I love the way you write Logan, it's so comforting! Can't wait to see more of your work, it's lovely💗

Idk if this would be your thing so feel free to ignore obviously!

How do you think Logan's dynamic would be with a reader having intense intimacy issues, to the point where they struggle to even think about doing anything more than make out with him? I really haven't found any fic like that and I think that you would a concept like that more than justice

I do see him having some intimacy issues himself (traumatized wet cat💀)

this is so sweet, thank you so much! My brain immediately supplied a list of head canons, I hope that you enjoy <3

~ So I am thinking about Logan from the original trilogy for these in particular ~ He definitely has some intimacy issues, more so on the emotional intimacy side than physical intimacy ~That is, until he meets you. You're a professor at the school, and while he can tell you love the young mutants with a large part of your heart, you remain physically distant from them. When the Youngers ones reach for a hug, you meet them instead with a fist bump or a high five. Never cruel, but always setting your boundary. ~The first time you catch him noticing your habit, you expect him to roll his eyes, or hit you with a judgy side eye. Instead, he quirks his head and resumes what he had previously been doing. ~Eventually, the two of you start spending a lot more time together. He will nudge a cup of coffee your way, and ask after you when you have a headache. He never encroaches on your space, despite being quite touchy with the other faculty.

~You spend a week working up the courage to confront him about it, strategizing the best way to ask for the reassurance you want but have trouble asking for. You expect him to blow you off, but when you knock on his door, he ushers you inside and lets you choose where to sit in the room, choosing his seat to be close enough to show he is invested but far enough away for your comfort. It isn't even a conscious thought for him, it's natural. ~You fumble through your question, doing your best to explain your line of thinking, before eventually just spitting out "do you hate me?" ~He is so shocked that he doesn't know what to say for a few seconds, which only makes your anxiety feel worse. ~He takes a few seconds, collecting his thoughts, and then you can see the typical Logan smirk start sparkling in his eye again. "Sweetheart, it's a little hard to hate the person you're acting a fool over". Your eyes practically bug out of your skull, and he chuckles to himself. He is twitching in his seat, and you can tell he is trying his best to not gather you up in his arms. ~You extend a hand out to him, palm upturned. He takes it instantly. He raises your entwined hands halfway towards his mouth, before meeting your eyes and waiting for your reaction. ~You nod, holding your breath and he drops a kiss on the back of your hand, before adjusting so that he can kiss your palm as well. ~When he hears your heartbeat stutter, he is quick to hold your hand again, resting against his knee. He confirms that you feel the same way, insistent on getting verbal confirmation. Your face feels like it is on fire, but you reply in the affirmative. "We are going to take this as slow as you need. I... I care about you so much, and your comfort always comes before anything else." ~You feel a few tears well up, and he moves to wipe them away as they begin to fall. Again, he pauses before actually making contact with your face, waiting for your gentle nod. ~From that day on, you are even more attached at the hip than before. Logan loves knowing that you are with him for more than his body, and he is constantly making sure that you know how much he values you. ~Overall, I just imagine him being very sweet and understanding and taking it as slow as you need. He is protective of you when you meet new people, often coming in between you and others who are not as considerate as he thinks they should be. Definitely sends his protective instincts into a bit of an overdrive, but you also appreciate having the scary dog privilege when you are out in public as well. People are definitely giving you a wider berth than you are used to. You always feels safe and taken care of with him, which is exactly how he wants it to be

[tikkunolamresistance]

Hi I am not a Jew and was wondering why you censor the word G-d like this? Additionally do you do this when speaking also and how does that work then? And if you do censor when speaking then what do you say instead of 'oh my god' or other such exclamations?

(I swear I read about this on another post but I forgot 😅)

Hope you don't mind such a stupid question lol. Please take care, may the hostages return safely soon 🎗🎗🎗

hi! idk the specifications for it but i know that we’re not supposed to write out the name of gd (any of them, and especially tetragrammaton) and some jews, like myself, take it to the level of omitting the ‘o’ to maintain the respect of not writing gds name. like most things with jews, this isn’t true for everyone and there a great many jews who write gd with the ‘o’

personally i’m too lazy for the dash so i write gd and assume people will get it through context. i only started doing this a few years ago and i found it made me more aware of how i relate to gd in the religious sense despite my not being particularly observant.

if anyones got better explanations or wants to share why they spell gd the way they do please do so! i love opinions! the more the merrier!

[rosyandraw]

idk if this is redundant on your end but thoughts on Damen needing to talk during sex? in the books it isn’t even dirty talk it’s just endless want for Laurent and how long he’s been waiting for him and how different Laurent feels. Also in canon & in ur own writing

Definitely not redundant! You have just knocked on the Damen Character Study door in my head lmao but it's late and idk how much sense this will make so i'm sorry in advance.

Mini meta on Why Damen Likes to Talk During Sex in Canon

First and foremost words are hugely important to Damen, not just during sex but in general. It is part of the reason that Vere trips him up so badly, why he just doesn’t get it. Because Vere is a veil of word play and innuendo, it’s double speak and flowery bullshit and lies.

That’s not Damen. His word is his bond, it’s tied to his honour and they mean a great deal to him. He never says anything he doesn’t mean. Ever. If it’s coming out of his mouth he is saying that shit with his whole damn chest and doesn't give a fuck.

The few times he is forced to lie or to say something he doesn’t mean he says it as a strategy play but it barely makes it out of his mouth and he hates it.

For a long time by the time they get to Ravenel Damen has been playing a part. Living a half truth and not saying everything he means. Or wants to say.

Likewise, in Akielos, Damen keeps himself held back. We know this because in 3 books, despite being the darling crown prince and heroic military leader, he mentions 1 person by name that he is actually and genuinely close to. One. He’s never been in love with anyone before Laurent, he doesn’t get close, he doesn’t get particularly attached. If he did Jokaste would have been a Princess and not just his mistress.

It speaks of a whole heap of childhood trauma and issues, thanks in large part to his father and Kastor and this picture that is painted of strength in Akielos being The Most Important Thing. (And i have too many thoughts on said implied trauma to write it all out properly here because it's an essay unto itself.)

We also know that Damen does the talking thing with Jokaste too. So we know it's an indicator of intimacy in bed for him. He's certainly not doing it in Vask, for example. Because Damen values words so highly he does wear his heart on his sleeve, but he guards that heart close. Sharing his feelings becomes something then tied to both the value Damen places on words and the lack of emotional intimacy in his life. To Damen, opening up like that especially during sex, is an act of giving unto its self.

Damen is strong, yes. Crazy strong and the perfect warrior. But he also likes the wordy sad poems and has craved approval (and affection) from his father and Kastor seemingly most of his life. For example, Kastor stabbed him and made Damen believe with words that it was a good thing because it meant Kastor respected him enough to fight him like a man.

It’s the perfect anecdote to draw all of those ideas together. Damen being happy about being stabbed at 13 by his brother because Kastor said it was a good thing to be strong enough to fight properly and bear the consequences.

Words matter to Damen, he assumes they do to other people too. It's what nearly gets him killed.

It’s funny really, because Damen values words but he himself is a man of action and Laurent values action but is a man of words.

When it comes to sex we see them swap places from their usual dynamic and therein lies the intimacy.

Laurent acts and Damen talks. It’s a complete role reversal and it was always meant to be. Pacat has said, several times, that Laurent tops Damen with words all the time and it was a purposeful choice to have Laurent bottom because of this. So to follow that through to it's logical conclusion for the sex scenes to really hit we needed to see them swap places completely and Damen needed to talk.

Laurent is a mouthy little shit but when it comes to his important scenes (the building of their intimacy and their sex scenes) it's never his words that he's speaking loudest with. Like when he just hugged Damen after the meeting with Jokaste in KR or when he went to get ice for him in PG, it's an offering in place of words and Laurent does it frequently: letting his actions speak louder than any of his words because to Laurent words don't really matter, lies are too easy. He's been taken in by words before.

Damen gets to Laurent through his actions and it's Laurent's moments of honesty, of saying something unexpected, that make Damen really pay attention. This isn't to say that Laurent's actions don't get to him, they do of course, but only really when Damen comes to realise that's how Laurent is being honest. Likewise in reverse for Laurent.

It's the language the other understands that allows the distance to bridge, but the intimacy comes in the opposite every time.

So when they fall into bed Laurent instigates with action, all three times they are together. And Damen talks. Because it’s the thing that is important to them that they are willingly giving and sharing and that is what makes it intimate.  

Quite simply, Damen holds himself back emotionally so talking during sex like that is a way for Damen to let go and to let his partner know that's it not just sex. Laurent, in reverse, shows his want through the instigation and by the time it happens they both know what it means: Laurent never does that and Damen knows it. Laurent knows Damen says what he fucking means.

It's such an intimate sex scene because of that awareness.

In my writing I kind of try to take that and run with it. Damen says what he means and what he wants Laurent to hear, because words of affirmation are important to him personally so he makes sure to share that.

Plus, it’s just sexy, you know? Got to love a man who talks in bed, that sex rough voice when he’s so far gone you know what his saying is just the shit flying through his head?

Hot.

Loved this ask so much. I could literally write a thesis on Damen lmao

[beenbaanbuun]

blood w/ poly!ateez

so i feel so sane about this… definitely no evil thoughts filling up my brain right now. none whatsoever :)

i want to write so much more about this universe and i’m literally sending the biggest kiss ever to @ateez-main-yapper to requesting this because i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life!

words - idk

genre - smut, horror (there’s a bit of gore i guess)

warnings - vampire!ateez, mafia!ateez, human!reader, smuggler!reader, blood, scarification, collars, ownership, blood, surgery mentions, nicknames (little mouse, princess, sweetheart), dancer!yeosang, security guard!mingi, ripper!doctor!yunho, mommy!seonghwa (don’t look at me like that, i had to), hand kink (mentioned), no actual sex but it’s talked about a lot, hair pulling, i think that’s all??

——————————————————————————

the scent of stale blood haunts the hallway you find yourself walking down, clinging to the back of your throat until yourself gagging on it. no matter how many times you find yourself down here, it never gets any easier to cope with; even a slaughterhouse would be more pleasant than this.

it begs the question why you’re back. by now, you’ve bled them of enough money to never have to work again, so it’s certainly not the pay. the job itself is harder than most, and not at all rewarding when you have to lie and cheat your way into success. there’s no doubt that the stress of hiding a smuggling operation behind the guise of a blood donation clinic has taken a good 20 years of your life from you. you can guarantee that job satisfaction isn’t what’s keeping you here either.

it’s only when you turn a corner and your eyes land upon them that you remember exactly why you’re still so willing to walk these halls. it isn’t something keeping you here but rather someone; multiple someones, in fact.

“mingi!” your footsteps quicken as you get closer the security guard that stands waiting outside of a heavy metal door. despite the fact that you’ve been on the other side of it multiple times, it still sends a shiver of curiosity down your spine. it’s not an anxious curiosity as it was when you first landed yourself in this position, but more of a morbid one. you know the horrors that lie behind it, you’ve experienced a few of them too, yet you still yearn to see more. “long time no see,” you offer a polite smile once you’re close enough to lower your volume from a shout, “san told me hongjoong had assigned you to pest control. is it not going well?”

mingi gives you a slow blink, his jaw set in stone and his eyes steely as he stares you down. he’s always looked far more intimidating than he actually is, although you suppose it serves to his benefit when his main job it scaring away anyone who might wish to disturb the peace. you’re only grateful to have had the chance to see behind the mask he wears; to watch his eyes melt and his lips part in the wonky grin he gets so little time to wear.

“you’ve not seen me in months and the first thing you ask me is about my demotion back to security?” he quirks a brow at you and you have to bite back your grin. in truth, you’d heard all about it from seonghwa over the past few weeks, your main contact within the clan more than happy to share life details with you as though you’re a lifelong friend rather than a mere employee. their favourite employee, sure, but still at the bottom of the pecking order.

“i just wanted to know more,” you lift your arms in defence, not missing the way his eyes flicker to the bandage on your left forearm, “like you said, it’s been a while.”

mingi hums in agreement as he examines the clean cloth. a long finger reaches out to trace the spot where the fabric meets your skin, the touch lingering and soft. it’s more the real mingi than it is the security guard mingi; it warms your heart to see.

“when did this happen?” he whispers, voice barely above a whisper.

“about two weeks ago,” you i pull your wrist back, letting mingi’s hand drop back down to his side, “hongjoong wanted to approach me about it, but i didn’t take much convincing,” actually, it was you who approached him but for some reason that’s much harder to admit, “you guys are much… kinder to me than the other clans i supply, well, supplied to. it was a no brainer to ditch them when given the chance.”

“so you’re ours?” he asks, voice dipping a little too low for the question to be purely innocent.

“i’m mine,” you confirm, “what i supply, however, is all yours.”

there’s a smirk on his lips, not as easily defeated by your sense of self worth as you’d like him to be. he knows as well as the rest of them what the mark on your arm means, after all. he knows as well as you do that there’s no getting away from them now. the moment yunho took his sweet, sadistic time carving their mark into your body it wasn’t just your business that belonged to them.

“sure you are, little mouse,” he whispers as he leans in close, his icy breath fluttering against your face. your stomach drops but you choose to ignore it. this was your decision, after all, “now, scurry along; you wouldn’t want to keep anyone waiting, would you?”

with the flip of a switch, the metal door clicks open and your immediately met with a blast of cool air and a wall of sound. you’ll never understand the clan’s need for these constant frivolities, especially when you’re on the other side of this getting your hands dirty, but you suppose it is a good way to hide their more secretive operations. no one is going to notice the door in the corner when there’s so much going on out here, right? it’s an extra layer of security, and a darn good one at that.

when you step inside, the door clicks shut behind you and you immediately get to scanning the crowd of partygoers for a familiar face. amongst the hoard of vampires, they’re harder to spot, their ashy skin and red eyes sticking out a lot less than they would next to a human. instead you look for a familiar hair colour, recalling the angry text you got from seonghwa about the den’s main bathroom turning pink with hongjoong’s hairdye. nothing sticks out at you, though, and so you’re back at square one.

your arms stretch out before you as you go to push through the crowd. it’s moments like this that you’re glad for the metal, almost collar-like band around your neck. yeosang had created it as a way to keep your pulse hidden from any less-well-meaning vampires. he’d insisted that the tag dangling from it with the clan’s emblem engraved was all hongjoong’s idea, but you recognise the same possessive glint in all of their eyes. it’s the same one yunho had given you when engraving that very emblem into your body, and the same one san had given to you when wrapping your bleeding arm up in a fluffy white bandage. yeosang is just like the rest of them, even behind his sweet exterior.

but right now he isn’t crafting some marvel of engineering out of metal scraps and a dream, but instead on the stage at the front of the room. it’s not often he’s up there instead of one of the others, but as you watch him elegantly dangle from a hoop that hangs from the ceiling, you find it hard to see why. he’s utterly ethereal, like a butterfly about to emerge from a chrysalis; one of those blue ones with the wings that seemed designed to capture your attention with their beauty. you’re entranced, much more so than the rest of the party-goers who seem to have grown blind to the creature moving elegantly before them.

his body moves not at all like a butterfly though, instead flowing smoothly like a viper along the branch of a tree. he extends his arms in such a way you’ve never seen before, silken and smooth as he reaches out to his audience. it pulls you in further, your feet shuffling as you push through the final layer of people to get to the stage. you stumble forwards, catching yourself on the edge of the raised platform. if he notices you there, he doesn’t show it; the stoic expression he wears remains steady as he gracefully shifts his body into yet another position.

you watch him like that until the end of his performance, unblinking with your lips parted in awe. even the way he tumbles to the floor and bows to an uninterested audience holds so much more grace than you think you will ever possess. to think that this is the man that spends half of his time smeared in motor oil with a puppy-like grin on his lips is strange, yet it feels so right.

“hello, little mouse,” he echoes the familiar nickname as he makes his way to the front of the stage, crouching down in front of you and running an all-too-confident finger along your jawline to your chin. he snaps your mouth shut in a way that is so far from the yeosang you know that part of you believes this must be his much cockier twin. “hongjoong is out tonight; some trouble on south side caught his attention so he wanted to clean up the mess before the police got there.”

“i’m meeting with seonghwa then?” you murmur, too starstruck for your mouth the form words properly.

yeosang shakes his head.

“seonghwa and san went with him,” the finger from your chin shifts down to the piece of jewellery that fits snug around your neck. his touch catches against the tag, the jingling sound reminding you of a bell on a cats collar. you try to ignore the smirk that rises to his face as sees you make the connection, instead shifting your gaze to the pendant around his neck that shares the same symbol. “yunho is busy with whatever sick shit gets him off, me and mingi are working which means…”

fuck.

“jongho and wooyoung.”

“clever mouse,” yeosang’s tone is venomous, despite his words being soft. clearly performing does something to his ego; inflates it until every sign of the sweet mechanic is hidden behind a thick shroud of confidence. it’s deliciously cruel, mirroring the sick sadism of yunho or the vast overconfidence of mingi, and holy fuck do you want a taste. perhaps later, once business is over.

if business is over.

“i wouldn’t worry too much about those two, though,” he continues, tugging on the tag of your collar—because despite your pride, even you have to admit that there’s no other way to describe it—until you’re face is merely inches from his own, “hongjoong promised yunho their balls if they can’t learn to control them. maybe you’ll finally be able to have a meeting with them before getting your pussy stuffed, hm?”

you feel yourself getting warmer, your face flushing as yeosang so blatantly talks about your track record with the pair of resident trouble makers. it’s not like you’ve let slip about all the times jongho’s had you sitting on his cock with your mouth wrapped around wooyoung’s the second you step into their office which means that they must have instead. it makes you wonder what they talk about whenever you’re not here, and how much each of them know about your less than professional escapades with each of them. it’s a troubling thought, and yet it’s still manages to light a fire deep in your belly.

“see you later, yeosang,” is the only thing you can mumble in response as you pull away from his touch, the tag of the collar bumping gently against your neck as it slips free of his fingers.

——————-

“you told the others about fucking me?” you scoff as you barge your way into the office where the two youngest vampires await your arrival. it’s nice to see them here already, since they usually arrive far later than the agreed upon time. although, you suppose with the delays of mingi and yeosang, you’re also late on this occasion. you let the passive-aggressive comment about time keeping slide, knowing it won’t help you right now.

“hello to you too, mousy,” wooyoung hums from where he lays on the green sofa in the corner of the room, “it’s nice to see you again! we’re doing wonderfully, by the way; thanks for a—”

you let the door slam behind you as you storm your way towards him, completely ignoring the curious gaze of jongho.

“cut the shit, wooyoung,” you grab hold of his shirt collar and lean in close. it’s supposed to be intimidating but the wide grin on his lips lets you know otherwise. “you’ve all been talking about me when i’m not here? what the fuck, man!”

wooyoung chuckles in your face, his dangerous fangs glinting beneath the overhead lights. you know he’d never bite without your permission—people have been killed by hongjoong for much less—but it still sends a shiver through you whenever you see them.

“you’re not exactly discrete yourself, princess,” the office chair creaks as jongho stands, making his way around his desk and towards you. although you keep your gaze firmly on the little rat who still sits giggling to himself, you can’t help but be hyper aware of the presence behind you. a large hand traces its way up your spine, not stopping until you feel his fingers lace themselves with your locks and tug. your grip fall limply from wooyoung’s shirt as you’re hauled back into the soft muscle of jongho’s chest, your neck craned awkwardly over his shoulder to keep you in place. “what do you want us to say when san is asking about who’s cum he’s eaten from your pussy? do you want us to lie to them?”

you squirm, wincing when his grip on your hair doesn’t loosen despite your attempts to break free. they call you little mouse and right now, you really do feel the part—you walked right into a trap of which there’s no way out.

“maybe i should let you fuck me again just so i can watch when yunho rips your fucking balls off your body!” you grunt through gritted teeth.

jongho hums in amusement, “it was hyperbole, sweetheart,” a pair of cold lips meet the hot skin of your cheek for just a second before pulling away, the softness a stark contrast to the harsh grip he still has you in, “he doesn’t care how much we fuck you as long as we get the job done. after all, he’d be a hypocrite to complain about us fucking you when his dick is inside of you twice as often, hm?”

you watch with cautious eyes as wooyoung stands from his place on the sofa, grinning as wide as the cheshire cat. it reeks of danger, yet you’ve never been the type to give into that sort of thing. you’re a human working for a bunch of vampires; danger is just a regular part of your life at this point.

“besides, mousy,” the cheshire cat purrs, “you think we’re the only ones who talk? you don’t think we know just how much you love calling seonghwa mommy when you ride him? or how much you love it when yeosang spits in your mouth whenever he’s fucking you dumb?” wooyoung brings a hand to your cheek, dusting over your bottom lip with his thumb, “you’re ours, little mouse; we can talk if we want.”

[br4ttyeilish]

You’ll beg me to come sext you PART ONE !!

g!p billie

Authors note: ahhh i missed u cuties sm so happy to be writing again. doing 2 parts cs i didnt wanna keep u waiting ! also idk who requested this but here u go !

Warnings: not proof read

billie releasing her third studio album  came with lots of interviews and press she had to do. her team decided to send billie to korea to do some press there, so of course billie brought her girlfriend asia. even though billies schedule was super packed and probably wouldn’t have a lot of time to see her girlfriend, she still wanted to bring her.

even though asia agreed to coming along, and knew she wouldn’t be able to see billie all too much, she hated staying in the hotel all day by herself. they had been here for nearly a week now and all asia did was stay in the hotel bed all day. occasionally getting out of their room and walking around the hotel but nothing fun whatsoever. she didn't care what they were even doing, asia just wanted to be with billie. and obviously she understood that if billie had the choice then billie would be here with her too, but it didn't take away the fact that asia was still hurt.

today was an even harder day for her. while being trapped in the hotel room she decided to clean out her camera roll and while doing that she found an old photo she took of billie. it was a photo she took after they had fucked. 

billie was smothered in hickys. her iconic grin being seen on her face but being slightly cut off. it made asia miss her and also made her uncomfortably horny. not having her girlfriend here to get her off sucked. and yes she could just jack off and get it over with, but she wanted to fuck with billie. she wanted to get fucked good tonight.

asia went into her suitcase and shuffled her clothes around until she found what she was looking for. her pink ruffled lingerie set that she brought just in case. in case of something like this. 

she began to slip away her comfy clothes and slip on the set. she looked at herself in the mirror taking in her curves and smiled. that’s when she took out her phone.

billie was currently waiting for her 2nd interview of the day. it was 4:20 and it didn’t start until 4:30 so she still had some time. they sat her down in an empty white boring room. that’s when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. she groaned, thinking she put her phone on dnd. she took it out and checked it. 

ASIA 💝 SENT AN IMESSAGE

a smile creeping on her face. billie clicked on the message, being greeted to a video. the thumbnail was a shot of the hotel room floor. billie furrowed her eyebrows and clicked on the video. the video began to play and that’s when asia got into screen. it cut to her filming herself in the mirror, her body in frame showing the set she was wearing. billie immediately started squirming in her seat, she could already feel herself get hard. her face began to heat up. “fuck.” billie said under her breath. 

billie didn’t even give asia the enjoyment of replying. she left the girl on read. that was enough to tell asian what she had gotten herself into.