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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

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Always have but never hold

Previous chapter / Last chapter

a/n I welcome you to part nine. I just hope y'all will enjoy it! Thoughts are always welcome! It blows my mind that so many of you are still here reading these scribbles. 🫧🤍

warning: addiction, alcohol consumption, pill consumption, forced behavior, forced sexual behavior, panic attacks.

Parts in cursive are memories

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16h prior

A bowl of popcorn was long forgotten as you dozed off on Luca's shoulder. A random show was still playing in the background. Filling the space with muffled voices that, since you were so sleepy, felt more like a fluffy cloud that soothed you, pulling you deeper into slumber. And you probably would have spent the night there like that. All curled up beside him. Tired from all the emotions. From all the crying and socializing. You had joined Sydney in her ventures around Chicago for a bit when Carmy stood her up. You kept on telling yourself that it was good to get out of the rental apartment. To try to think about something else. Watch your friend get excited about the smallest of things. But those things also drained you these days. Emotions, no matter what kind they were. All seemed too much. Asking and dampening so much of you.

It was the buzzer that made you stir. For a moment, you were convinced that you had just imagined it. Dreamed it. Until it pierced through the silence again. Followed by a light knocking. You frowned. Lifting your head from Luca's chest, who didn't seem to stir at the commotion outside of the apartment, you made your way toward the door while still rubbing your eyes. Was looking through a peephole something you should have done? Especially in Chicago? Yes, and yes. But you didn't, and when you saw who was standing there, all the sleepiness washed away.

"What are you doing here?", you managed to mutter. Standing still as a statue as you glanced up at the person in front of you. "I... Hi... Look, I just had to come and... and speak to you", you shifted uncomfortably. Unsure of what you wanted to do. Slam the door shut, or stand there and listen. The silence was heavy as you crossed your arms over your chest. Mentioning for the person to go on.

"Just... how have you been?", you let out a laugh in disbelief. "Are you seriously asking me that, Richie?", you huffed. He shook his head. "I want you to know that I didn't mean it all back then, okay? I even called you that night to apologize and...", Richie stated quickly while running his fingers through his short hair. His beard was scruffy; he most definitely hasn't tended to it in a while.

"And what? You all hated me the moment I walked through the family house door. All collectively decided to make me your punching bag", you snarled at him, choosing to ignore the tired bags under his eyes. "Look, shit was hard when Mikey died", Richie noted as if you didn't know that yourself. "Oh really? I didn't seem to notice that", you sassed back at him, making him clench his jaw. You saw him fighting his emotions, and yes, this was such a big step that he had even chosen to come here, but you weren't going to just let him brush over it. "I love that kid so much, and... I was so angry that he left. Lived there somewhere and was away from all of this", Richie said once again. "We were suffering in this shithole, and he had it good for himself there".

"Did you ever stooped to think that Carmen thought about you all constantly? That he had been running plans on how to improve the restaurant? Just because he wanted Mikey and all of you happy?", your own emotions rushed out. Something that has sat on your chest for so long now. Something that you knew Carmen would never say out loud, no matter how much you bubbled inside. Richie fell silent, yet you could see the specks of guilt in his eyes when your words truly sank in.

"What do you want, Richie?", you huffed after a moment. He hesitated. Fidgeting in his spot before he breathed out, "I called Claire. I told her where cousin was going so she could bump into him, told her to... She knew about you". Your stomach twisted. Your skin felt clammy as that familiar feeling of anxiety twisted around your body. "I don't know what I was thinking", he breathed out. "How about you weren't thinking?", you bit back, stepping closer to him. A part of you wanted to slap him. Shove him, at least. Hit his chest. "Want to know a fun story, Richie? My ex cheated on me after dragging me through shit for many, MANY months. So you know how this made me feel?", you felt angry tears building up in the corner of your eyes, "Like I was back at that shithole once again".

Richie's face paled. The emotions on his features were hard to read. There were glimpses of guilt, anger, frustration, sadness, and dread. "I'm sorry; I never wanted to hurt you", he mumbled barely audibly, "I wasn't thinking. I just... I'm sorry". But you shook your head, "It's not that simple, Richie; it's just not all that simple".

Present time

You second-guessed your choice to come here more than once. You barely got any sleep after Richie left. Tossing and turning. Your brain was so full of everything that you started to see your thoughts instead of just hearing them. And honestly, screw people who say that thinking at night is not something that you should do because then do you get the best ideas at night then? Come to the biggest realizations at the oddest hours? When the world around you is asleep or just waking up. When it's just you and nothing else matters. And then, if you hadn't stayed up, would you have chosen to come here anyway? Choose to let the pain of the past slip through your fingers. Chosen to awaken the demon that you had put to sleep a long while ago.

You twisted your skin around your finger. The place where your most precious ring usually lies—one that you have forgotten to take and felt naked ever since. Missing the light blue and green stones that covered the band. The stones that always reminded you of Carmen's eyes. Eyes that you had fallen for so quickly. You missed them. More than missed them. Until you caught a glimpse of them right in the back seat. Big and scared eyes looking at you. Confused and searching. He was here. And he saw you. For some reason, you told yourself that he wasn't going to come. Maybe he had stopped coming here after all. It's been weeks since Carmen told you that he had finally started coming here to talk. Maybe he no longer needed this? But he was here, and he was looking right at you, and even if you wanted to, you couldn't drop his gaze.

"I was young and naive. My parents had died in a car accident, and... I just had Luca and his parents, who were the sweet family that baked shortcakes for the whole street on Sundays", you let out a breathy chuckle. "I felt as if they were forced to love me, so I was so desperate to find someone. Fall in love. Know what it felt like to be loved without obligations once again". You watched as Carmen gripped the chair in front of him. Even from where you sat, you could see his knuckles turning white from the share force he was holding on.

"It was all pretty sweet until... devil drops and pills got involved. He changed in the blink of an eye", you snapped your finger in front of your face. "First it was words; they grew louder and louder. Then came the shoves and forceful touches, cheating". A breath hitched in the back of your throat, and you let yourself close your eyes for just a moment. "I would have stayed. I didn't know how to leave. How to fight for myself", each word you spoke cut straight through Carmen. He felt stupid for not noticing. Brushing away the way you escaped his touches at the beginning. How your skin would react. And then how restless you seemed until you were in his arms. Until he was touching you in some way. At first, he didn't understand why it was important for you to feel him around; he thought you just enjoyed physical touch, but now... Now Carmen knew that this ran way deeper. Through scared valleys of pain. "And if not for Luca, my guardian angel, I don't think I would be here today", you met Carmen's eyes one more time before taking a deep breath.

The room was spinning. The shapes on the wallpaper were dancing as you stared ahead of yourself. Eyes so dazed and so unbelievably heavy. You felt so thirsty, but the thought of moving was simply unbearable. It felt as if someone was kissing your skin, but the sensation felt so far away that you might have just imagined it. And then all of those noises. There was no way you could distinguish between them. But they sure were irritating you.

You manage to pull yourself up. Only now realizing that you had been sprawled out on the bed with nothing but your bra and your skirt on. You frowned, but that was quickly replaced by the wave of nausea that rippled through you. You reached for your phone, leaning onto the walls as you stumble out of the room. You know this place. The doors. It was Ezra's apartment. You tried to remember how you had gotten here, but your mind seemed empty. Nothing—not a scratch at what had happened. There seemed to be no memories of you doing anything after you got into his car.

Things had been weird ever since you caught Ezra cheating last week. You had broken up but gotten back together the next day because he called you crying on the phone about how he didn't want to do life if you weren't with him. So you came back. You hadn't even told Luca about it, well aware that he would not approve. You hadn't even realized that you had followed the noises from the living room. Rounding the corner to see... Just what you had seen last time around, Libby, the saver, and Ezra deep inside her. You didn't remember how you ended up in the bathroom. Hands shaky as you called Luca. Slurring your words as you cried.

"I don't remember much now. The pills made sure of that, but... Luca had to get stitches", your finger ran over your eyebrow. "Ezra tried following us and shit. The police got involved", you said, shaking your head at the distant memory. There were so many times you wished you could just forget. Take all of these memories and burn them. "He overdosed a couple of weeks later, and I felt responsible for it. I think I'll always will". That had become your biggest fear. Losing someone once more because of your actions. Sure, situations with Ezra were different. You were the victim, and as Luca had told you many times, if you had stayed, it would have been you six feet under instead. So you drowned out those voices until Carmy came around, and the fear of losing him started to grow. Then Micky died, and you watched Carmen fall apart. A cold shiver ran down your back.

"I don't talk about my experience. I guess... because... taking makes it real, and I just wish I could forget about it", you finally admit, lifting your gaze to meet Carmen's eyes. "That always felt like my biggest flaw. The reason why people might not want to... love me". The room fell silent. Empty even as you let yourself dive headfirst into the depths of Carmen's eyes. A part of you hoped he would be really angry. Storm off. Curse you out in front of everyone. But he didn't. You could see his own eyes glistening slightly as he muttered something you couldn't miss, "I love you". You bit the inside of your cheeks quickly. Trying to keep your emotions at bay. Not wanting to cry in front of everyone. It was probably silly considering that you just shared parts of your past that still bleed. "Thank you for sharing, Y/N.", the moderator touched your shoulder gently, offering you a tissue. You only nodded at her. Flashing her somewhat of a smile as you stood up, returning to your chair.

Carmen watched every move you made. The way your body was shaking ever so slightly. He watched the way you rubbed your hands together before quickly reaching for your bag and getting up. Carmen, let you pass him. He didn't move. Waiting. Hoping that you would stop beside him. But you didn't; you walked right out. And Carmy just sat there. Feeling the light scent of your perfume. The warmth of it brought him so much comfort. He never thought there was a way to remember someone, even the smallest parts of them, with just a scent. But here he was, and he was dazed. But then, as if his own body had been fed up with him, Carmen shot up as he too headed towards the door. He wasn't sure what he was going to say or do, but he had watched you walk away from him way too many times. He couldn't take it anymore. Simply couldn't. His whole body was screaming at him to do whatever it took to get you back. "Y/N!", he shouted as he saw your figure walking down the street quickly. You didn't turn around, so Carmy picked up his speed, shouting your name as he went.

And then you halted. Letting people bump into you as they rushed past, Carmy frowned as he pushed through toward you. "Hey", he said softly, touching your shoulder only to be met with a broken inhale. That's when he noticed the tears. The tremble. Your hand was on your chest as you tried to breathe in, but it seemed like your lungs were working against you. Carmen looked around quickly, spotting a side alleyway only a couple of steps away. He knew that a busy street full of people wasn't helping the case. So he dragged you to the side, earning a couple of strange looks his way, but ignored them completely.

Your hands were over your face as you sobbed quietly. Trying to fight the panic that flooded your body with crippling anxiety. "Do you want to sit down?", Carmen's voice filled your ears through the drumming of your heart. Your knees bucked in response before you could even nod your head. Camren was quick to catch you, wrapping an arm around you. "Hold onto my waist for a bit", he muttered, before trying to pull off his jacket without having you fall. He dropped it to the ground, not wanting you to sit on the filthy road, plus it was cold. Your nails grazed his skin, even through his shirt, as he carefully helped you settle.

Carmen watched you do the same breathing exercises you had taught him. His head was a mess as he tried to remember how you usually handled this. How you took care of him so he could do the same? He reached for your hands, pushing one against his chest, right over his heart, and the other closer to his lips. Before resting his forehead against yours, "You're doing great, love; keep the exhales longer", he muttered. He watched as you fought your tight chest. How you gasped for air, and the panic set inside him. What if he couldn't help you? What if he was doing the opposite? But then you're pulling yourself into his arms, head deep into the crook of his neck. Just like he had pulled you closer to him back in the restaurant. Desperate. In need. And just like then, your two bodies molded together just perfectly. Knowing what each of you needed. Knowing how to hold. To keep. To soothe.

"I'm sorry... I'm", you muttered against his neck. "You haven't done anything to feel sorry for", Carmen reassured you quickly, brushing his fingers through your hair softly as you clung to him. "I should have...", you started once more, but Carmen wasn't having it. Pulling away slightly, he cupped your face, "You breathe for now; that's all that matters."

Your eyes fall on the chain dangling around his neck. Fingers reaching to pull it from beneath his shit, watching the ring he threaded through the metal chain glistening in the midday sun. "You want it back?", Carmen asked, making you look up at him. And in a way, he knew that he was pushing his luck with a question like that. Maybe it was even inappropriate in a way. Because it was not just any ring. Not just any birthday gift. Carmen gifted that to you after the first bumpy patch you two had in New York. Long weeks with barely seeing one another. Bickering over nothing.

"Just open it", he had said back then. A bottle of rose on the side table as you two lay practically on one another in the living room. Carmen had made dinner, and you had offered to make some chocolate souffle. Watching him slip off the sofa and sink to one knee had you staring at him wide-eyed. "Carm...", you had managed to crock out. "Don't worry, I'm not proposing just... This is a promise ring", he breathed out quickly, "I want to do better. I want to only make you happy".

The memory made Carmen's chest heavy. Especially with the amount of pain you two have been through the last couple of months. "Come on, give me your hand", it's barely a whisper but all you can do is watch as he unclasped his chain, sliding the ring back onto your trembling hand. You instantly started twisting the band around your finger. Feeling a wave of calm rushing through you. As if someone had given you an oxygen mask. Carmen just watched you. Still lost in your head but grounded by a piece of him. His fingers slowly ran up and down your arms and back as he tried to soothe you.

"You're feeling better?", Carmen asked once the shaking died down and your grip on him eased. You only managed to nod your head. Attacks like that left you powerless. Weak. And tired. Carmen knew that as well. Carefully, he brushed away the last tears, still dampening your cheeks. "You did great back there", his words made your heart skip a beat as you offered him a burnt-out smile, "Come on before you turn into a fucking ice cube".

Carmen was almost done making some veggie soup when your phone started to ring. At first, he wanted to ignore it. Let it ring out, because now he just didn't feel entitled to pick up and answer. Yes, you came back to the apartment with him, but he knew this meant nothing. Now he was well aware that it meant nothing. You two still needed to talk. And even if Carmen wished you two could just pick up right where you've been before everything crumbled... A fool's dream. Just the ringing didn't stop, and with you asleep just a door away, Carmen reached for your coat pocket.

Luca. Of course, he thought. Who else would it be? A pang of jealousy rushed through Carmy. He quickly silenced it. Just watching the screen. Waiting for the call to die down. And then he did a rash thing as he pressed the green button, "Hello". The other side of the line was dead silent. Carmen even pulled the phone back to make sure that he had indeed answered. "What the fuck are you doing with her phone?", the words burst through the silence harshly. "She... came back with me after a meeting", he hated that he sounded like a little boy. There was almost no confidence in his voice. A part of Carmen waited for Luca to shout at him. Call him names. But all he heard was a sigh, "Just... She's fragile, Carmen. I know shit's been tough for you too, but if you love her...", for some reason, that pulled something in Carmen as he said, "Of course, I love her", "So be honest with her because you might not get another chance." Carmen nodded his head subconsciously. Knowing well that Luca was right.

"So... who's speaking first", you two sat in the living room. You had woken up about an hour ago with a beating headache in your head. Yet seeing the familiar sheets and decor around you helped in a way. But then realization struck. You were back. Back in the place you were meant to turn into a home, with Carmy in the other room. You let yourself just sit there for a while until you stepped out to find him. He sat on the sofa, head in his hands. Where has this taken you? It pained you to see how torn apart you two were. How much has changed?

"I'm the one who's in the wrong", Carmen said calmly, staring ahead of himself, "I never wanted to hurt you. I don't recognize myself looking back". A deep exhale slipped past his lips, "I would never cheat on you. I would never hurt you in that way. That whole Claire thing was shit". You let out a little chuckle, shaking your head, "It didn't look like shit. She has feelings for you, I can see it", "Does it look to you like I give a shit that she feels something for me?", Carmen turned to you quickly, but you didn't look his way.

"Look me in the eyes; look, love", he said, pressing his fingers against your chin and turning your head towards him, "Eyes don't lie. Remember, you told me that". Your eyes flickered up at his. Your bottom lip quivered. You hoped to find sparks of lies there. But there was nothing but truly sorry-looking eyes. "I met with her three times. The night in the grocery store, then at the party full of old people from school, and we sat and talked in the car once", Carmen said. "But why didn't you come and tell me? Tell me that you met her in the store and stuff?", you huffed, pulling away from his touch. "That's what leaves a bitter taste, Carmen. You did it all behind my back", you didn't want this to turn into a full-blown fight, but you could feel the frustration building up inside you.

"I... I don't have a reason why", Carmen's words cut you deep once more. You just gazed at him. Trying to make sense of this situation. "Let me ask you something else", you clicked your tongue, "Did I cross your mind at least once while you were with her?". Carmen opened his mouth but closed it almost immediately. You let out a diflated huf, "Let me answer that for you—you didn't".

You turned away from him. Truly, what were you doing? Why were you here? It wasn't going to lead anywhere. Your eyes scanned all of your stuff that lay all around the place. Looking at you. Staring at you. But before you could even take a step, Carmen practically sobbed, "I'm sick in the head, okay? I don't know my emotions. There are times when I have to tell myself that the sky is not going to fall on me", his voice seeped deep into you. And as much as you wanted to get out, you couldn't bring yourself to go. "But I'm seeing two doctors. I take meds. I want to get better. I want to make this better", his voice cracked, and you felt him right behind you. "Let me be better for you, please", Carmen touched your hands softly, hoping you would turn around to face him. Hoping to see your eyes. To know. Was there at least a sliver of hope?

"What about me? I wasn't honest either. Doesn't that make you angry?", you turned to face him, "There was someone before you, Carmen", but he just shook his head, "Someone who hurt you. He didn't love you the way I love you, and I doubt you truly felt love for him", those words were your undoing, as you quickly clasped your hand over your mouth to silence a cry. "Let me make it better,", Carmen pleaded, intertwining his hands with yours, "I'm not asking you to drop it all and forgive me. Just give me a chance". You let yourself lean against him, closing your eyes and allowing the silent tears to fall.

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complexparadox1 · 1 year

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The Devil Within

Alright so finally writing for someone other than Kazutora! Bonten Mikey x Fem!Reader. Smutty Angst, no real warnings. Reader is Mikeys ex. Uses of the nickname princess. It's romantic, it's smutty, it's dark! Hope you enjoy!

it was late, far later than you ever would have normally been out and about. Stumbling a bit as you walked home, having had a long night out with some coworkers and having gotten subsequently more than a little tipsy. You steadily stumbled your way towards your apartment, occasional giggles slipping off your lips as your steps faltered and you simply had to laugh at yourself for how clumsy you were.

As the shadows engulfed the streets, a figure watched you from a distance. It was Manjiro, his intense gaze fixed solely on you. He observed the way you stumbled, your laughter filling the night air like a sweet melody. A flicker of concern danced in his otherwise emotionless eyes. He couldn't help but worry for your safety, even though he knew he had no right to be there.

He followed your unsteady steps, his heart pounding with each stumble. He saw the vulnerability in your drunken state, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to imagine a different reality - one where he could protect you, cherish you, and keep you safe from the dangers that surrounded him.

Swiftly and silently, he closed the distance between you. With a muted grace, he reached out, his hand steady as he gently caught you under the arm, preventing you from falling.

"Careful now," his voice, low and tinged with a mix of worry and possessiveness, caressed your ears as he stared into your eyes, his intense gaze piercing through the drunken haze. His touch was firm yet tender, safeguarding you from the darkness that threatened to consume your world.

You looked up surprised to have been steadied. But you hardly even got out the word 'thanks' before recognition dumped over you like ice water. It had been twelve years since you'd last seen Manjiro but you would recognize his familiar onyx eyes anywhere. "J-jiro?" You stuttered out the old nickname you had called him once upon a time, the only thing that your inebriated mind could come up with in the moment as you stared up at him. Blinking hard a few times, not entirely believing he was standing in front of you but he was and you were practically stunned stupid by his presence.

But Manjiro's gaze never wavered even as you uttered his old nickname. Memories flooded his mind, a mix of pain, love, and regret. He could see the surprise in your eyes, the recognition dawning upon you. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his expression before he regained his stoic composure.

"It's been a long time." he responded, his voice devoid of any warmth or emotion, though his eyes betrayed a hint of longing. As much as he wanted to wrap you in his arms and hold you close, he knew he had no right to. Not anymore.

His grip on your arm tightened slightly, a subtle display of his possessiveness. "You shouldn't be out this late, especially in this state." His tone was commanding, his words veiled with concern. Somehow, despite the darkness that consumed him, he still cared. "You need to go home. I'll escort you." It wasn't a request, but an order. In his mind, there was no other option. He had sworn to keep you safe, even if it meant protecting you from himself.

He looked different now, the white hair, the dark bags under his eyes, how thin he was. He was colder too and that struck you far more than his physical appearance. "I-I was on my way home." You managed to stutter and no sooner had you managed to words that his iron grip had moved from your arm to around your waist and he guided you swiftly towards home. "W-wait, how do you know where I live?" You asked, seeing as he was guiding the both of you in the exact direction of your apartment even though it had been twelve years since you had last seen him and he had certainly never seen where you lived before. Even drunk your mind could still realize that despite barely being able to walk on your own two feet.

Of course Manjiro didn't answer your question, his silence only deepening the mystery surrounding him. As his arm wrapped securely around your waist, guiding you towards your apartment, his touch sent shockwaves through your intoxicated senses. His grip was possessive, yet there was caution in his movements, as if he didn't want to break you. It was a delicate balance between his desire to protect you and the darkness that threatened to consume him.

His gaze remained fixed ahead, avoiding your questioning eyes. "I have my ways," he replied cryptically, his voice tinged with a cold edge. He refused to share the secrets of his criminal empire, the resources and connections that he had at his disposal. It was all part of the dark life he had descended into, a life that he wished to keep separate from you.

As you stumbled along, his presence next to you was both comforting and unnerving. Memories of a time long past flooded your mind, of the love and passion you once shared. But the person walking beside you now was no longer that carefree teenager, but a man trapped in the shadows, filled with sorrow and darkness.

Arriving at your apartment building, he gently guided you towards the entrance. His hands lingered for a moment longer than necessary, his touch electric against your skin. "Get some rest." he whispered, the words hanging heavily in the air. And with that, he turned, disappearing into the night like a specter, leaving you alone with more questions than answers.You didn't even have the time to speak or think to respond he was out of sight. "Stay safe....Jiro." you said quietly, it was always what you had said to him all those years ago when he'd drop you off after a date.

Your words struck with a bitter nostalgia that left your heart and mind reeling. A part of you could almost believe that you'd merely imagined the encounter given your intoxicated state but as you stepped inside your apartment and peeled your jacket off you could still smell the faint traces of his cologne clinging to the fabric like a ghost. The realization that he had been here, that he had shown up sent your heart stuttering out of control. Everyone knew, everyone from the old gang knew what had happened to Mikey. After everything that had happened almost twelve years ago he had gone entirely dark cutting off everyone and anyone. Eventually building up the empire that was the criminal syndicate Bonten. So why? Why here, why now, and why me out of anyone? The questions swirled in your mind so viciously you felt dizzy. You had to move to the toilet to throw up.

As you hung over the toilet, your mind spinning with thoughts and questions, the taste of bile on your tongue, the encounter with Manjiro weighed heavily on your thoughts. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of his presence, leaving you both unsettled and intrigued. The juxtaposition of his current dark and dangerous persona with the memories of his once warm and affectionate self left you with a mixture of conflicting emotions.

The uncertainty gnawed at your insides as you washed your face, trying to shake off the remnants of intoxication and confusion. Could it be possible that he still held some soft spot for you? Or was it merely a chance encounter, an unwelcome reminder of a past life? You couldn't deny that, deep down, a part of you still longed for him, for the version of him that once existed. But you were also aware of the dangers that lurked within the shadows he commanded.

The minutes turned into hours as you lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, awake and consumed by memories and unanswered questions. Sleep evaded you, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic vortex. The distinct image of Manjiro's intense gaze burned into your mind, his touch branded upon your skin.

Would you see him again? The idea both terrified and excited you. There was a dangerous allure to his presence, a magnetic pull that transcended reason and logic. And deep down, a part of you craved to unravel the mysteries of this changed man, to understand the darkness that now swirled within him.

But in the midst of your contemplation, exhaustion washed over you like a tidal wave. As your eyelids grew heavier, thoughts of Manjiro still clung desperately to your consciousness, weaving through the fabric of your dreams.

Over the next few days you found yourself hyper vigilant. Expecting to see him somewhere, or to find someone tailing you. Obviously if he knew where you lived there had to be someone watching you, right? Though you had no real way to know and if he did you saw no sign of them, and certainly no sign of him.

After a few days an idea struck, although very possibly a foolish one. You made your way back to the same bar you'd been drinking at with your coworkers but this time alone. You ordered drinks, making sure to order the non-alcoholic version although to anyone else it would look as though you were drinking. Eventually after a little while you left the bar with fake stumbled steps. Hoping that perhaps if you recreated the circumstances he would show up again. It was a foolish plan, for a number of reasons.

The first being not knowing what his reaction would be if he did show up presuming you to be drunk considering his previous authoritative tone when he'd said you shouldn't have been out so late in such a state. The other reason being once he realized you had pretended to be drunk to see him again you had no idea how he might react to what was essentially a trap. There was also the possibility he may not show up. Out of the three potential outcomes you were unsure which one was more worrying. But despite this the allure of seeing Manjiro again, even in the midst of uncertainty, drove you forward. With each stumbled step, your heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and fear. The night air chilled your skin, making you shiver as you wove silently through the dimly lit streets.

Your senses were heightened, your eyes darting from shadow to shadow, searching for any sign of his presence. The sound of your own footsteps echoed loudly in your ears, the rhythm matching the pounding in your chest. The city was alive with vibrant energy, yet you couldn't help but feel a sense of isolation, as if you were the only one truly aware of the danger lurking just out of sight.

As you approached your apartment building, a mix of disappointment and relief washed over you. Manjiro was nowhere to be seen. Had he seen through your ploy? Or perhaps he simply hadn't noticed your presence at all? Doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind, but still, a flicker of determination remained.

You repeated this routine over the next few nights, each time hoping for a glimpse of him, a reconnection with the past. Each time, you went through the same charade of appearing intoxicated, stumbling aimlessly through the darkness. And each time, the result remained the same—Manjiro's absence.

But on one fateful night, as you neared the threshold of your apartment, something unexpected happened. A figure emerged from the shadows, larger than life in stature. It was him. Manjiro. The dark bags under his eyes were more pronounced, his gaze steely and emotionless. His presence sent a shiver down your spine.

He approached with purposeful steps, his footsteps echoing with a sense of authority. "Playing games, are we?" His voice, filled with a mix of annoyance and intrigue, reached your ears, sending a surge of conflicting emotions through your veins.

The air between you crackled with tension, an unspoken understanding hanging heavily in the night. You had caught his attention, but what exactly did that mean? What were the implications of your actions, and what would be the consequences of this dangerous game you had played?

You felt your mouth go entirely dry as you heard his voice. But this was what you had wanted. You'd wanted to coax him out, regardless of the consequences. You straightened yourself up a bit, dropping the drunken act that he'd clearly seen through a small nervous smile curled across your lips. "I've always liked games. You know that better than anyone Jiro." It was a different kind of game the two of you were playing now though. Instead of something cute like asking him to pick a number to choose where you would go eat or something sweet and silly this game seemed much more risky. "So...you coming inside?" You asked gesturing to your apartment building. If he had seen through the game of playing drunk and shown up anyways that had to mean something. Whether that was something good or bad though remained to be seen.

Inviting him in was a dangerous gamble. While you'd known Mikey once that was a long time ago when he'd been a much sweeter, gentler boy, kind and loyal to his friends and to Toman. But there was no way to be sure how much of the Mikey you had once known remained in the man that stood before you now.

Manjiro's gaze sharpened as he observed your change in demeanor, his keen eyes dissecting every nuance of your expression. He remained silent for a moment, his emotions impossible to decipher as he contemplated your invitation.

There was a palpable tension in the air, the weight of your shared history and the uncertainty of the present intertwining. Finally, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of Manjiro's lips, a glimpse of the past pulling through the darkness that shrouded him. "Games, huh?" he murmured, his voice laced with both intrigue and caution. "Alright, let's play."

With those words, he strode forward, a predator closing in on its prey. His hand gently took hold of yours, his touch sending a jolt through your entire being. It was possessive, yet tinged with a hint of longing. Without another word, he led you towards the entrance of your apartment building.

As the door swung open, a rush of anticipation coursed through your veins. The two of you stepped inside, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken desires and unresolved tension. The journey upward in the elevator seemed to stretch on indefinitely, silence enveloping you both.

Finally, as you reached your floor, the door opened, and your apartment lay before you like a threshold into the unknown. Manjiro's grip on your hand tightened, his gaze burning with intensity. "Lead the way," he rasped, his voice thick with anticipation.

Inside the apartment, the atmosphere shifted, filled with both an electric tension and a sense of familiarity. The room suffused with the memories of a shared past. Little trinkets here and there that he had gotten for you, even a few you had gotten for him that Draken had returned when Manjiro had broken up with you after Emma's funeral and refused to see you again. Uncertainty lingered, but there was also a glimmer of hope, a faint spark that whispered of the possibility of connection, of finding a sliver of the boy who had once been your everything.

As you faced each other in the intimate space, the lines between friend, lover, and stranger blurred. The past melded with the present, forging a path forward filled with both danger and the promise of something more. You found that now that you were here you were nervous. You had never actually planned what to say during all the planning to try and find him again. "I missed you." The first words to fall off your lips and they weren't a lie. At least you missed the version of him you had once known. But again you did not know exactly how much of your Mikey was even still present anymore. The boy you had fallen in love with seemed such a far cry from the man that stood before you now. So much so that it made your heart ache viciously.

Manjiro's gaze softened, his onyx eyes capturing yours in a potent embrace. There was a flicker of emotion that danced across his features, an echo of the past that hinted at the depths he still held within. It was a fragile moment, suspended in time, where vulnerability and longing intertwined.

A heavy silence settled in the room as Manjiro reached up, his fingertips grazing gently against your cheek. His touch sent shivers cascading down your spine, reminding you of the tenderness that had once existed between you. For a fleeting moment, the hardened exterior that he wore so fiercely seemed to crack, revealing a trace of the boy who had once loved you so fiercely.

"I missed you too," he admitted, his voice carrying a rawness that belied his stoic exterior. It was a confession laced with regret and yearning, an admission of the impact you had left upon his life. Yet behind the whispered words lay a shadow of melancholy, the weight of the darkness that surrounded him daily.

As the seconds ticked by, a war waged within Manjiro's eyes—a battle between the love he once knew and the hardened, dangerous man he had become. And in the midst of that struggle, a decision was made. He closed the distance between you, his lips hovering near yours, as if seeking permission, seeking solace in a moment of shared vulnerability.

His breath mingled with yours, a fragile connection forged as he cupped your face, his touch gentle yet tinged with desperation. Time seemed to stand still as the world narrowed down to the two of you, the boundaries of past and present dissolving into nothingness. The unspoken promise of passion and recklessness hung unspoken in the air.

In that fragile moment, the weight of both your desires and fears converged, ready to breach the boundaries that had separated you for far too long. And it was up to you to decide: To embrace the intoxicating possibility of rekindling what was lost, or to retreat in the face of the darkness that surrounded Manjiro's existence.

Your lips were all too quick to press against his. There was zero hesitation in this action and

the moment your lips met, a surge of emotions coursed through your veins, intertwining with the flickers of vulnerability that resided in Manjiro. His kiss held a mixture of both hunger and tenderness—a collision of passion and pain. As your fingertips threaded through his hair, he responded with an intensity that mirrored your own, his hands roaming your body with a possessiveness that sent shivers cascading down your spine.

The taste of him was bittersweet, a reminder of the love you had once shared, intertwined with the darkness that now consumed him. His lips moved against yours with a familiarity born of shared history, each kiss a silent plea for understanding and connection. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the vortex of desire and longing.

Unable to contain the mounting passion any longer, Manjiro deepened the kiss, a growl rumbling low in his throat as he pressed you against the nearest surface, his body flush against yours. The heat between you was palpable, a desperate attempt to bridge the vast chasm that had kept you apart for so long.

Clothing became an obstacle, hastily discarded in the pursuit of a desperate, raw connection. Every touch, every caress, was both a rekindling of the past and an exploration of the unknown. The world outside ceased to exist as you surrendered to the intoxicating pull of Manjiro's touch, allowing yourself to be consumed by the flames of desire and the tempest that raged within the depths of his gaze.

In that stolen moment, the physical union acted as a conduit—a fleeting bridge that allowed you to glimpse a shattered, vulnerable side of him that he had long kept hidden. But in the midst of the carnal chaos, a sense of urgency hung heavy in the air, as if time itself was slipping through your fingers.

Together, you shared an illicit connection born of equal parts longing and danger—a love story entangled in darkness and desire. And as the world outside ceased to exist, you knew that this moment would forever alter the course of your intertwined destinies.

Quickly, while somehow also feeling agonizingly slow, the layers of fabric that stood between the two of you were stripped away. Leaving you both laid out entirely bare on the couch, his body pressed against yours. Manjiro's lips parted from yours, and the weight of his gaze bore down upon you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and something far more complex. It was a moment, frozen in time, where your vulnerability hung in the air like a delicate thread.

"I love you." The words came out of your mouth in a breathless gasp and he finally pulled his lips away from yours. You could feel his erection pressing against your inner thigh and that sensation coupled with all the others his mere presence elicited had your pussy dripping with slick arousal.

A ripple of emotion coursed through his features as he took in both the words you had spoken and the sight of you, your exposed body laid bare beneath his hungry gaze. The sparkle of obsession flickered within his eyes, a testament to the depths of his devotion and the intoxication he found in your surrender.

His hands traced a path of fire across your skin, a jolt of electricity igniting every nerve ending. The warmth and firmness of his touch pulled forth gasps and moans, each sensation branding itself into your memory. As his fingers caressed your thighs, he met your eyes with a hunger that mirrored your own, his voice heavy with restrained longing.

"I love you too," he whispered, his words reverberating through the room, a fragile confession that resonated with the depths of his being. In that moment, the room seemed to pulse with a molten passion that threatened to consume you both.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Manjiro positioned himself between your legs, the intensity in his gaze never wavering. His movements were guided by a potent mix of desire and possessiveness, each touch and stroke driving both of you to heights of ecstasy.

As his cock pressed against your moist heat, a surge of pleasure coursed through your body. The world seemed to blur and fade away, leaving only the primal connection between your bodies. With a single thrust, he claimed you fully, a seamless union that echoed with the ardor and hunger that flowed between you. A moan left your lips that you were quick to smother into his neck, pressing kisses and bites into his skin to try and mute your pleasured cries. The familiar stretch to accommodate for his size had you practically dizzy both from the pleasure and the familiarity of it.

Your bodies moved as though in synchrony, a dance of passion and urgency that defied the boundaries of time and space. The room filled with the symphony of moans and sighs, mingling with the creaking of the couch beneath your fervent movements.

Lost in the abyss of pleasure, your fingers dug into Manjiro's back, leaving a trail of red scratches, marking him as yours in that frenzied moment of ecstasy. As the waves of pleasure crashed over you both, the intensity of your connection reverberated through the air, a testament to the magnetic pull that had always existed between you.

In that stolen moment, tangled in a web of longing and need, the world ceased to matter. The past and future melded into a singular present, where desire and darkness converged in a dangerous dance. And amidst it all, within the chaos of pleasure, a thread of love remained steadfast, binding your souls together, if only for that moment in time.

Though you tried to muffle your whimpers and moans against his throat it didn't do much to mute the lewd cries of his name that escaped your lips. "J-jiro feels so good, you feel so good. Fuck, nngh f-fuck I missed you." You whimpered, clinging onto him tightly as he pounded into your cunt at a near reckless pace. Manjiro's breath hitched at the sound of his name slipping from your lips, mingling with the symphony of your pleasure-filled cries. The sensation of your nails leaving trails of fire across his back only fueled his own primal desire, each mark serving as a testament to the intensity of your connection. It was as if the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a heady dance of passion and desperation.

Your body awash with dizzying pleasure. The feeling of having him inside of you, having him wrapped in your arms again made you feel high in a way you hadn't in far too long. His movements became fervent, his rhythm relentless as he delved deeper into the abyss of your desire. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, an auditory symphony of your shared ecstasy. With every thrust, the intensity between you soared, pushing you both closer to the precipice of oblivion.

"Fucking hell, princess." he growled, his voice filled with a tempestuous mix of pleasure and longing. It was almost as if his raw desire could not be contained, escaping through every word and gasp that tumbled from his lips. The euphoric haze that surrounded you both grew denser, threatening to consume everything in its wake. "Come on beautiful wanna feel you cum for me." He said with a low growl to his voice, practically demanding it.

As your bodies moved with unrestrained abandon, each collision awakening long-dormant desires, the tension reached its crescendo. The sensations became a torrential storm, building with an unyielding force that had both pleasure and pain intertwining in a tumultuous embrace.

And in that moment, when the world came crashing down around you, all that remained was the fiery connection between Manjiro and yourself. His cock throbbed out its orgasm pumping thick ropes of cum into your slick trembling heat. Your bodies convulsed together, a symphony of shared release that burst through the boundaries of time and space. The savage pleasure surged through your veins, numbing your senses and leaving you breathless in the aftermath.

As your bodies trembled, locked in the embrace of shared post orgasmic bliss, a heavy silence settled over the room. The air seemed to hum with a mix of satisfaction and longing, the remnants of your union lingering like an intoxicating aura. And as you lay there, tangled together in the aftermath of passion, you realized that no matter how much time had passed, the connection you shared with Manjiro would forever burn within you.

Your mind was hazy from the intensity of the pleasure that had been wrought upon your body. You held onto him tightly, burying your face into the crook of his neck and placing gentle kisses against his throat as you tried to catch your breath. "Don't leave me again Jiro, please, please. I don't wanna lose you again." You murmured into his skin, knowing it was far more than likely even if he spent the night he would disappear come morning. He was the leader of a criminal organization, something that posed both a constant danger and was a 24/7 commitment.

Manjiro's breath hitched as your words reverberated against his skin, each plea like a dagger in his already tormented heart. The weight of your love and vulnerability bore down upon him, reminding him of the dark path he had chosen, the burdens he carried, and the danger that surrounded him.

His fingers gently traced patterns along your spine, his touch a bittersweet anchor in a world that threatened to rip you apart. His voice, tinged with a softness that belied his hardened exterior, broke through the heavy silence. "I can't stay princess." he murmured, his tone heavy with resignation. "The path I've chosen is not one that allows for stability or safety."

His words were a painful admission, a reminder of the brutal reality that separated you. But beneath the surface, there was a flicker of longing, a desperate desire to hold onto the fragile moments of connection you shared, even if they came at the cost of his own well-being.

"I... I love you. More than anything," he whispered, his voice filled with a complex mixture of devotion and despair. "But I can't ask you to wait for me. I can't offer you the life you deserve."

He held you tighter, knowing that the pain of letting go would only intensify in the morning. With each passing moment, the weight of his responsibilities and the darkness that consumed him threatened to shatter the delicate bubble of intimacy you had created.

In that poignant moment, Manjiro realized the price he had paid for his choices—the constant yearning for a love he could never fully possess, the constant fear of losing the one thing that could bring him solace. He had already lost so much, too much. "My life, what I've become... It's not a life that allows for stability or happiness. The darkness I'm immersed in is unrelenting, and I don't want to drag you into it any further than I already have."

There was a heaviness in his words, a truth that echoed through the room and settled in the hollow of your chest. He untangled himself from your embrace, a mixture of longing and sorrow etched on his features as he gazed down at you.

"Please understand," he implored, his voice laced with pain. "I'm a danger to you, princess I'm a toxin that poisons everything I touch. It's better if you stay away, find someone who can give you the happiness you deserve."

Despite his words, a flicker of desperation burned within his gaze, a lingering need that refused to be extinguished. It was as if his soul yearned for the solace and love you offered, even if his rational mind knew he couldn't keep it. "Love is not enough to protect you from the demons that reside within me. I can't bear to see you suffer because of my darkness." he whispered, his voice barely above a lament.

As he gathered his clothes and prepared to leave, the weight of his decision hung heavily in the air. It was a bittersweet parting, with both of you acutely aware that regardless of the love that bloomed between you, the path he had chosen meant that your futures were destined to diverge.

With a last lingering glance, Manjiro pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his touch a mixture of tenderness and farewell. Then, like a shadow dissipating in the night, he vanished, leaving you to grapple with the haunting emptiness that his absence brought.

Though his love for you was undeniable, the path he had chosen ensured that the two of you could only exist as star-crossed souls, forever locked in a dance of desire and despair — bound, yet ultimately destined to be torn apart.

#tokyo rev #bonten mikey #bonten mikey x reader #bonten #bonten mikey x reader smut #mikey x reader smut #mikey x reader #mikey x you #mikey angst #manjiro sano smut #manjiro sano x reader #manjiro sano x you

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yoonsenji · 11 months

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Summary: Daddy little girl! (Platonic)

Tokyo Revengers ×××

Character's:- Sanzu (Bonten), Mikey (Bonten), Izana.

Haruchiyo Sanzu!

It was no surprise that Sanzu would have a kid oneday since this man can't keep his dick to himself. You have your mother features the only thing that makes you appear related to Sanzu was your personality.

The Rosy pink haired male couldn't help but groan by your presence, he doesn't really like you even tho you're his own blood (he hope). He would bring you anywhere since he doesn't want you to be kidnapped either, killing and taking drugs infront of you he was unhinged.

While Sanzu was busy inhaling some cocaine the guy he have beaten up which Sanzu thought was dead would slowly rise up. You watch as the man glare at your father and take out a knife, unfortunately Sanzu was too high on drugs to realise what was about to happen. As a sound of bullet piercing through a human skull echo through the broken down building.

Sanzu turn behind to understand what the hell happened just to see the man he had beaten up on the group a puddle of blood forming around his head. A pocket knife on his hand as he look at you, you were still holding the gun as you look at your father with a cute smile. This was when Sanzu knew you were really his daughter.

He treat you better than ever from that day, he always thought you weren't his which make him not treat you that well and since he is too busy to take a DNA test. He always thought some whore who he have slept with just lie and drop you off and run away.

Your mother did just put you infront of Bonten building and put a little note that say "Fuck you Sanzu, you ruin my life. So, you should take care of this plump of cell not me".

The more Sanzu actually spend times with you the more he realised that you are just like him. Your laugh sound like his, you hav his charm, thank God since he doesn't want you to have the charm of a whore, Sanzu was excited to teach you how to used a gun. He would tie up people and used them as a target, whenever you shoot right through their head your father would give you a high five.

Sanzu treat you like a princess if Rindou or Ran tried to mess with you he's so read to put a bullet through their head. "Y/n... Did you know that your mother was a whore?" Ran told you as you only sigh "Yes, uncle I know my mother was a whore... Please enlighten me on how I should react" You reply back, "See, even the kid is annoyed of you!" The younger haitani added as he laugh.

Even Mikey like you which make Sanzu like you even more, just like your father you admire Mikey but unlike your father you weren't the type to lick a ground if Mikey say so.

But, Sanzu start to go to the club not that often now. Even if Ran or Rindou beg him to go as long as if he have a plan with you he would just reject the offer. Sanzu does bring prostituted back home but he always make sure not to be loud although you already understand what is going on.

"Princess, what should I do with her?" Sanzu would ask you as he grab the hair of the woman who tried to steal Sanzu wallet, he asked you since he knew damn well you would always come up with a creative way of killing people. Kids do have a wild imagination and killing someone the same way over and over was boring. "Daddy, why not cut off her hand so she won't be able to steal anything anymore... Maybe after that you can feed her family using her" You reply with a smile on your face the woman skin turn pale as she start to beg for forgiveness. "Ah! My princess is so smart, I'm so proud of you, princess" Sanzu praise you as you smile proudly.

Sanzu sent you to the best school he could possibly find since his princess deserve the best. You were guarded by gang members 24/7 if not they'll die. No matter how dumb you are no school have the gut to reject you since they still want to live, if you're smart the teacher would treat you very good cause their life is on your hand at this point.

You usually hang out at the Bonten building, Mikey allowed you to. Mikey clearly have a favourite and it's definitely you, you weren't noisy nor cause a fight, you would tell him story which makes his life a bit less boring, you listen to him and ask nothing in return and you're a cheeky kid who is good at tricking people.

"So, the unicorn couldn't cross the river because... Even tho there was.... A beutiful tree the unicorn couldn't left his friend behind... The end!" You say with a smile as you close the book, Mikey who was listening to your story closely although you pronounce some word wrong it was pleasent to hear, Mikey still have his childish side so he would asked you to read more story until you fall asleep while reading a story for him.

Manjiro Sano!

Mikey doesn't even know what the hell he was feeling to even have sex with some random chick but now he have a kid... Your mother just casually drop you off and flew to another country.

Your eyes were similar to Mikey a fucking void of nothing. You don't cause tantrums nor cry loudly, you were quite patient and listen to anything your father say, but no one else could literally control you it doesn't matter of Mikey send them if you do not see your father you're causing a big tantrums.

You would sit quietly while drawing a picture using a crayon, Sanzu was your babysitter since Mikey trust him enough somehow. The Rosy pink haired male was not that happy but atleast you're Mikey daughter.

"I could go out with some chick's but here I am babysitting you" the Rosy pink haired male complain once again, even Ran and Rindou were simply sitting there not complaining and Sanzu was only blaming you, "Could you stop yapping your mouth... Y'know some of us have things to do other than yapping" you told the older male as Sanzu was pissed off. Even if you are Mikey kids you ain't Mikey, "I didn't know an idiot like you could talk" Sanzu said trying to hold back his anger, "You're a grown ass adult arguing with a kid, I wonder who the idiot is" Seem like you got your mother mouth.

You're always ready to throw hands with anyone especially Sanzu, among the elite members of Bonten if we forget your own father Koko like you the most. Unlike those idiots you actually know how to used money properly, you somehow managed to pull money out of no where... He used your innocent to steal things to.

Everyday you have a playful fight with Sanzu... It get violence real quick tho, it's either you throw things at him or he pull his gun out and point it at you. You two do not get along very well but you never bad mouth him to your father, even if Mikey tried to stop the daily fight you simply just say it's yours and his problem... No one can butt in.

It's impossible to kidnap you since you're always with Mikey or another elite members of Bonten. Even when you go to school atleast one elite member have to pick you up since you're Mikey kid.

You're the whole reason Mikey haven't completely lose himself so if you're gone everyone is going to be fucked up.

You're literally Bonten princess, you hold a very important role in Bonten since you're the reason Mikey is not insane yet... You would usually be near your father and you weren't afraid of gruesome scene since y'know your father and his friends kill people on daily basis.

Mikey doesn't allow you to touch any of his gun nor any gun, he might be the most dangerous gang leader but he ain't gonna let his princess touch something that can harm them. What's the point of being a good father if you need to learn self defence at early age.

"Rinrin... What happened to my teddy?" You ask as you stare at the teddy bear on the groud, it was really fucked up there was a bullet hole in your bear. "Um... Well you see" Rindou tried his best to find a good excuse since making you cry was bad even tho Mikey isn't here. His older brother Ran was just looking at him smirking, this all happened because Ran said something that provoke Rindou to pull out his gun and shoot which was Ram plan and make him shoot the bear instead. "You... Ruin my bear!" You were tearing up badly. And you cried, you were throwing everything you could get your little hand on and throwing at anyone.

Whenever you get sad or mad you throw anything at anyone only your father can calm you down during such period. Or you straight up bite, kick, pull, scream. You only do such things when you are seriously mad or sad, but after everything you would apologise a half ass apologize you weren't sorry it's their fault for provoking you.

"I swear your father won't like it if you stand out in the rain!" Sanzu was trying to get you out the rain but since any umbrella was near he wasn't ready to ruin his beautiful hair and outfit. "Bleh! No!" You said as you took a step back getting further away from the pink haired male. "Shit man! Why do you have to be so difficult!?" Sanzu asked as you stick out your tongue at him. You were freezing cold but there was no way you were going to back out easily. "Blah blah blah! Keep talking pinky pie!" You said as you told your arm and sit down on the groud. "I'll buy you a dorayaki?" "Okay!".

You're a easy to buy since just like how young Mikey was you were in love with Dorayaki, you never share food tho even with your father you hesitate a bit and give it to him. You only eat food if a flag can be added or else you're not eating it.

You were sitting on the soft sofa as you much on the freshly buy Dorayaki as you swing your life feets, every bite bringing you to heaven as you enjoyed in silence. "Y/n" the younger haitani call out your name as you look at him "Can I eat some... Even a little crust would be nice?" Rindou asked, they bet him to take even a little bite off your food as you smile at him. Rindou for sure though that you'll say yes since the way you were smiling was closed to the word yes. "No" you simply answer as you continue to eat your dorayaki. Rindou look disappointed at himself it seem as his charm didn't work on you and Sanzu and Ran were laughing at him. As your father entered the room you jump up from your seat and walk towards your father with a proud smile. You snap the dorayaki in half although it was not even, "Daddy, want one?" You asked as you already put out the dorayaki for him "Sure, princess" Mikey reply as he grab the dorayaki and eat it. You just simply go back to your seat and just ignore the younger Haitani brother who was simply flabbergasted by the obvious favourism.

Kurokawa Izana!

He doesn't even know what happened that night... He didn't mean to have sex with anyone he was simply too drunk and the girl seduced him.

Now he have to take care of you and yeah the woman even throw the DNA test paper to him.

At first he literally ignore your existence and kaku take care of you all the time. Whenever Izana looked at you, you remind him of himself when he was younger not wanted by his own mother.

Hence, he started to treat you like how he wish to be treat by his mother when he was younger, he would hold your hand while walking, make kaku read bedtime story for you, play the guitar for you and he even beat up any guy who look at you the wrong way.

He tried his best to not get you involved in any of his gang activities but they do adore you alot. Even tho Shion is a scary ass dude you would just play with his hair and listen to him talk about anything. You do not like Kisaki at all... He tried to get along with you but yeah you'll run and hide behind anyone. The haitani brother treat you like their little sister, kakucho is your mother at this point, hanma... He play with you too much.

"Y/n... Why don't we buy ice cream hm...?" Kisaki asked you as you look at him terrified, Kisaki reminds you of a monster which make you run and hide behind the older haitani. "Eh...?" Ran look confused as you grab onto him tightly, "Look like y/n doesn't like you" Rindou said out as Kisaki only Chuckled, he was hella mad inside. His whole plan was to make you like him and kidnapped you.

You don't talk much nor do much, you are just you... Unlike your mother who left you, you were alot calmer and patience, but just like Izana your determination was strong and you got Izana eyes as well.

You would just sit down on the groud and listen to everyone talk since Izana doesn't trust anyone who isn't Kaku... And kaku have to attend the meeting to, most people think you couldn't talk at one point but you could clearly do that.

Izana would never take you to anything that includes other gang... He'll just simply locked the door from the outside door and since he trust you enough to be alone.

But, if anyone dare to bad mouth your father thinking you were too much of a coward to say anything... They're dumb, although you aren't much of a talker unlike your mother, you have the same attitude as your mother.

"Y'know, boss would be nothing without the haitani brother's" the guy say although you were right there "Dude! Boss daughter is right there... Keep it shut or boss will kill us!" The other guy tried to warn his friend as he laugh in response "She is too much of a coward to do shit..." The other guy would simply say. You literally pick up a rock and throw it at the guy "ouch! What the hell is wrong with you?!" The guy asked as you stood up. "Annoying..." you told him as you walk away "Dude I told you..." The other guy told him "She only talk big she won't rat me out" the guy say with full of confidence. You did tell you father and everyone you know...

You rat people out if you have to... Izana is a very sweet and protective dad, he would hold your hand if you ever walk out anywhere. Making sure he doesn't neglect you and have enough time to spend with you. If he can't spend time with you kaku would definitely be the best replacement for such tasks.

Kaku was definitely worried when you didn't talk much and thinks you have a talking problem. He told Izana about his worried, Izana didn't want you to get bullied for such silly reason that Izana start to talk less so you won't be alone... It wasn't that deep tho you just think talking too much is a waste of energy.

You would sit down and work on your little project for hours, you were making a drawing of you and Izana with your crayon which Kaku bought for you. You were very careful with your drawing and whenever you see even a tiny flaw you would just redo the whole drawing.

You tug at your father pants to get his attention "What is it princess?" Your father ask you as you give him the drawing "I draw for you..." You would say with a sweet smile as Izana just smile at you and admire your work as well... "I'll put it on the fridge so everyone will get to see it, okay?" He ask you as you nod your head a yes.

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mvkushiin · 3 months

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𝗜 𝗪𝗜𝗦𝗛

𝗳𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗺: 𝘁𝗼𝗸𝘆𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗻 𝘅 𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝗺𝘅𝗺 — 𝗳𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝗲𝘁𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗱𝗻𝗶 .ᐟ.ᐟ

__ ★₊˚﹟ 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝘂 ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ⊹ ࣪ '

𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 ::

𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱𝗻'𝘁

𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗹𝗮𝗯𝗲𝗹 𝗶𝘁.

⚠︎ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 :

𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁

:: 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱, 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗸..,

The rain fell in heavy sheets, drenching the city in a somber gloom. (Name) stood outside the old café where they used to meet, its once warm and inviting glow now dimmed by the passage of time. He clutched his phone tightly, the lyrics of "Sana" by I Belong to the Zoo playing softly through his earbuds, each word piercing his heart like a dagger.

Draken arrived, his motorcycle splashing through the puddles. He removed his helmet, revealing the familiar lines of his face, now shadowed with regret. He approached (Name), his footsteps heavy with the weight of unspoken words.

"You called," he said, his voice barely audible over the rain.

(Name) looked up, his eyes meeting him with a mixture of pain and longing. "We need to talk," (name) replied, his voice trembling.

They found shelter under the awning of the café, the rain creating a melancholic symphony around them. Draken looked at (name), his heart aching at the sight of his tear-streaked face. "I'm here," his voice was soft, as if he was talking with a sleeping baby by their side, afraid to wake it up. "Tell me what's on your mind."

(Name) took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. "Why didn't you tell me about Emma?" he asked, his voice cracking. "Why did you let me believe that we had a future together?"

Draken was shocked to hear (name)’s statement. Closing his eyes, the memories of Emma flooded his mind, overlapping him and (name)’s memories together.

"I thought I could move on," Draken admitted. "I wanted to be with you, to find happiness again. But a part of me was always with her."

"Did you ever love me?" (Name) whispered, his voice filled with anguish. "Or was I just a way to fill the void she left behind?"

Draken's eyes opened, filled with a sorrow that mirrored (Name)'s own. "I did love you," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "But it was different. Emma...she was my past. I tried to let her go, believe me I tried my hardest (name)...but I failed."

(Name) wanted to scream, to shout out his pain to the world. No, not just to the world, but to Draken as well. (Name) wanted to release the overwhelming emotions building up inside him, yet instead, he kept it all inside. Clenching his fists, (name) bit his lip, and swallowed the lump in his throat. He put on a brave face, a mask to hide the turmoil within him.

(Name) shook his head, despite trying his hardest to stop it, his tears fell and mingled with the rain. "You should have been honest with me. You should have told me that your heart was still with her."

He knew it, deep down, but he never wanted to face it. Every time he spoke, every time he did something that felt natural to him, Draken's eyes would shift, his smile would falter. It was subtle, but (Name) noticed. At first, he thought he was imagining things, that maybe he was just being paranoid. It wasn't just Draken, either. Mikey had noticed it too.

One day, in a rare moment of frankness, Mikey had pulled (Name) aside and told him, "You know, sometimes you act just like Emma. That's probably why Draken is so attached to you."

He remembered the way those words hit him like a punch to the gut. He tried to laugh it off, tried to tell himself that it was just a coincidence. But it was hard to ignore the truth. Every time he did something that reminded Draken of Emma, his expression would change. It was as if he was seeing a ghost, reliving memories that were too painful to bear.

(Name) wondered if Draken saw him as a rebound, a way to fill the void that Emma had left behind. It hurt, knowing that no matter how much he tried, he would always be compared to her.

There was the time they had gone to the amusement park, the same one Draken and Emma had visited. Draken had seemed happy, but (name) could see the shadow of Emma in his eyes. Every laugh, every smile, was tinged with a bittersweet memory.

(Name) remembered the night they had watched the stars together, lying on the grass and talking about their dreams. Draken had been quieter than usual, and (name) had known he was thinking about Emma. It was in those moments that (name) felt the most invisible, like a ghost trying to touch the living.

It felt like (Name) was the dead one instead of Emma.

It wasn't that Draken didn't care about him. (Name) knew that Draken did, in his own way. But it was clear that Emma's presence was always there, lingering between them. It made (name) feel like he was constantly competing with a memory, and it was a battle he could never win.

It hurt, realizing that maybe he was just a rebound, a replacement for someone who could never truly be replaced. He wanted to be more than that, wanted Draken to see him for who he was, not just as a reminder of Emma. But how could he compete with a memory? How could he ever be enough when he was always compared to her?

He wanted to be angry, to shout at Draken and Mikey, to tell them that he was his own person, that he wasn't just Emma's shadow. But he couldn't. Because deep down, he understood. Emma was irreplaceable, and no matter how much he tried, he could never be her.

(Name) could never fill the space she left behind.

So he stayed silent, swallowing his pain, his jealousy, his frustration. He stayed by Draken's side, even if it meant being his reminder of Emma. Because even if he was just a rebound, a replacement, it was still better than nothing. It was still something.

"I was afraid," Draken admitted. "Afraid of losing you, afraid of facing my own feelings. I thought I could bury my pain and move forward, but it only hurt you more."

Draken never talked about Emma much, but (name) knew she was always there, a lingering presence in his heart. He could see it in the way Draken looked at him, not really seeing him but seeing someone else. Every time he said something Emma used to say, every time he did something Emma used to do, it was like he was a shadow of her, a poor imitation trying to fill a void that could never be filled.

(Name) wiped his tears, his eyes held anger and sadness warring within them. "You did hurt me, Draken. Every time you looked at me and I saw her reflection in your eyes, it shattered me."

‘Please don’t look at me like that…’ (Name) said to himself, staring at Draken’s eye. He didn’t see a reflection of his own, but a blonde haired girl with the warmest golden orbs there is, and his boring eye color could never compete.

The blond tried to reach out, but (name) stepped back, the distance between them growing. "I never meant to hurt you," Draken stated, his voice breaking. "I thought I could make it work, but I was wrong. Emma…just make me so happy like no one else"

(Name) looked at Draken with eyes full of pain, his words to Emma cutting deep, making him bleed, not by blood but tears.

"But you said I was the one who made you happy like no one else," (name) said, his voice barely a whisper. His tears falling down one by one, filled with a whirling angst of emotions. 'It's a lie huh'

Draken's heart ached at the pain in (name)’s voice. "You did," he said. "But it was different. Emma was my first love, and I thought I fully let her go, I’m sorry (name)..."

The heartache gripped him like a vise, a physical sensation that threatened to overwhelm his senses. It began as a dull ache in his chest, a heaviness that made it hard to breathe. When he heard those devastating words, the pain intensified.

Draken’s words made (name)’s mind raced, the sentence replaying on his mind over and over again like a broken record. Each repetition drives the pain deeper, like a knife twisting in an open wound. It's a dull ache that radiates through his entire body, leaving him feeling numb and hollow.

His throat tightened, constricting with unshed tears and an ache that seemed to radiate through every fiber of his being. The weight in his chest grew heavier, a burden that he struggled to bear alone.

(Name) shook his head, tears falling freely. "I can't compete with a ghost, Draken."

The tall man’s shoulders sagged, the weight of his mistakes pressing down on him. "I'm sorry," he apologized again, his voice filled with regret. "I never meant to hurt you."

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. "We had plans, Draken. We talked about a future, about growing old together. But all along, you were still living in the past."

Draken didn’t say anything, too ashamed to even make eye contact with the latter. (Name) looked away, his heart heavy with the weight of lost dreams. It hurts so much. It's the kind of pain that makes him want to curl up into a ball and cry until there are no tears left to shed.

The blond tried to reached out, his hand trembling. "I want to be with you," he said, his voice filled with desperation. "I want to make it work." But (name) shook his head, stepping back. "I can't," he replied, his face showing no emotion, but his breaking voice betrayed him.

"I can't be with someone who's not fully with me, Draken. Let’s end this whatever we have."

Draken's heart shattered at his words, the reality of his mistakes hitting him like a ton of bricks. "Please," he pleaded. "Give me another chance."

(Name) knew Draken would kneel to keep his loved one, to make them stay by his side by all means, but (name) wasn’t Emma and he will never be Emma.

(Name) looked at him, his eyes filled with sorrow. "I need time," he said softly. "Time to heal, time to find myself again. I can't be with you, Draken. Not like this."

The man nodded, his own heart breaking at the finality of (name)’s words. "I'll wait,"

"I'll wait for as long as it takes. And if you never come back to me, I'll understand."

(Name) turned away, the weight of his own decision pressing down on him. He walked into the rain, leaving Draken behind, his figure a shadow in the storm.

(Name) loved Draken so much, but Draken loved Emma too much.

As the song played on, each note a painful reminder of what they had lost, both (Name) and Draken knew that some wounds could never fully heal. The love they once shared had been consumed by the ghosts of yesterday, leaving behind only memories and the bittersweet hope of what might have been.

Maybe in a different life where (Name) is himself, and not a shadow of Emma, they could make it work. But there's only this life, and that's the one they have to navigate.

˙ . ꒷ 𝗲𝗻𝗱 . 𖦹˙—

#tokyo revengers #draken #ken ryuguji #ken ryuuguji x reader #male reader #tokyo rev x male reader #sano emma #draken x emma #angst #tokyo rev #alternative universe

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pink-bandana-writes · 2 years

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Aftercare

Raphael x Reader

Summary: Raphael is fascinated by your new tattoo.

Note: I got a new tattoo today (yaaaay!) so have this lil thing. The boys are in their twenties in this, as is the reader, who is, obviously, of legal tattooing age.

Warnings: Talks of tattoos/the healing process/blood

Word Count: 0.6k

Reader is: of tattooing age

You were sitting on the couch in the lair, Switch in your hands as you played Animal Crossing, sprucing up your island a bit. Needless to say, you were too distracted to notice the giant mutant turtle staring at you, his jaw agape as he stared at the fresh tattoo on your thigh, covered in shiny Saniderm to protect it.

When…when had that happened? Obviously recently, if the irritated red skin around it was any indication. Raph raised an eyebrow, staring at the tattoo. It was a cute little sea turtle, swimming up your leg. There were a few bubbles and flowers around it. As far as he knew, you didn’t have any other tattoos, or, if you did, he hadn’t noticed them.

“Raph?” You waved your hand, drawing his attention. “You good?”

“Yeah, I, uh…when’d ya get that?” He pointed at the tattoo with a large finger, eyes locking on it for another long moment before meeting your eyes again.

“This afternoon.” You replied, chuckling.

“Huh. Does it hurt?”

“A little.” You set your Switch down and turned your attention towards him as he walked closer. “Mikey designed it.”

“Mikey designed ya tattoo?” Raph asked, eyes widening. “Did Donnie do it? He did the rest of ours.” Raph informed you, hopping over the back of the couch to sit beside you.

“I didn’t know that. No, he didn’t. I went to a tattoo place on the surface. All women tattoo artists, very clean. All of the booths are decorated with pastel colors.”

“Sounds like the perfect place for ya.” He chuckled. “Is this ya first one?”

“It is.” You nodded. “I’ve been wanting it for a while, though.”

“It looks great on ya.” He grinned. “How bad did it hurt?”

“The linework didn’t hurt that bad but the colors did. Donnie went over aftercare with me. It’ll probably be bleeding the rest of today.”

“Donnie get ya any Aquaphor? I got some in my room if ya need it.”

“He did, but thank you.”

“If ya need any help changing ya bandage, let me know, alright? I’m real good at that.”

“I’d appreciate it. I’m planning on switching tomorrow, once the majority of the bleeding is done.” You looked over his tattoos curiously. “Did yours hurt?”

Raph looked down at his half-sleeve, offering his arm to you so you could get a closer look. It was hard to make it out, given the shade of his scales, but you could see a few turtles. Four of them, actually. Aww. There were some kanji as well, though you didn’t know what they meant.

“Yeah, pretty bad. Donnie had to make different needles to try to pierce the scales. Lots of, uh, trial and error.” He chuckled. “I think they look good, though. I want him to finish my sleeve at some point, but we’ve been busy.”

“I can imagine.”

“You think you’ll get more?”

“I was laying on that table brainstorming more.” You laughed. “I don’t know when, though. Probably a few months from now, once this one is all healed up.”

“That’s probably a good plan.”

Mikey gasped very loudly behind you. “Oh my god, angelcakes! You’re back! How did it turn out?”

“It looks awesome.” You assured him, motioning him closer so he could see. Mikey fawned over his art on your body and it was very wholesome, but Raph couldn’t fight the tiniest tinge of jealousy inside of him.

Maybe…maybe he’d design something for you to get tattooed next…

Taglist: @thelaundrybitch, @turtle-babe83, @dilucsflame33, @happymoonangel

#raphael #raphael x reader #raphael imagine #tmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt imagine #turtlesagedup #turtles aged up #raph #raph x reader #raph imagine #bayverse #tmnt bayverse

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urfavslav · 1 year

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various headcanons of tr characters !

when ran asks you to be his s/o he gifts you gloves. while u may not think anything of it other then his love languages being gift giving. he's asking you to be his forever. they're symbolism that while the gloves would protect your hands, he would protect you.

imagine giving senju one of those sanrio hats that have velcro at the bottom ,, so they stay on ,, yknow ,, but she is so thrilled. so she wears it 24/7

if you say or do something stupid, hanma won't let it go. period. it will become an inside joke, something he uses to see u laugh, also he will do that with things he's done too. use 'em as stories to cheer u up.

emma sano would be so aggressively caring ,, but in the cutest way ever. cutely aggressive texts urging you to drink some water, eat something and get rest before she rushes over to do it for you !

thinking about petshop trio ,, chifuyu and kazutora eventually push baji to get a piercing ,, he ends up getting an industrial ,, sbsjs. it shows when he pulls his hair up also, chifuyu has considered a nose piercing. he likes simple studs.

sanzu deals with mania and or hypomania. for him they can be really scary because he also uses drugs and that heightens how he feels and emotions during that time. he calls it 'madness episodes', after his episode is over (for him they last a while. anywhere from a week to almost 4 weeks) it takes a while to get him calm. even after it ends. haruchiyo craves being close to you, sharing your warmth and inhaling your scent. it calms his nerves like an anesthetic. please indulge him.

kakucho likes chocolate chip waffles. like he just doesn't like pancakes for some reason. you start to notice a pattern when he makes waffles in the morning on his days off. he only eats his choco chip ones. maybe strawberries on top.

when hanma wakes up (whenever his ass does) I think he has like leftover eyeliner smudged around his eyes ,, also playing playing his long fingers and tracing his tattoos ugh

shinichiro with an s/o who's slightly taller but their love language is physical affection. they give minimal acts of affection though. hand holding, hugs. etc. one of shins fav acts of affection is when his s/o ruffles his hair. he'll get all flustered with warm tinted cheeks, eyes squinted and a goofy smile on his face. he's so cute :(

if I saw south, I'd try n hang off his arm ,, I just think it would be funny I also think he's a fan of play fighting ,, i think he will ruffle tour hair and pick you up like a cat ,, by the scruff of ur hoodie

mikey's texts that may not make sense. the typing looks like 2007 scene tumblr, all lowercase with words shortened so bad it doesn't make sense and faces like [:(, XD, :p] his texts look like ; 'hiii bby !!! im almst ther jst wait a bit kay !!!! I promise u he's abt to jump on his bike and visit u, or calls where he's just about to fall asleep but tried his hardest to stay awake for you so he can heat ur voice ,, even though that makes him feel even calmer. it's gonna put him to sleep

koko has money, but like he has nice shit, he takes this nice, modded car, he goes around at night, driving to get a break from the bonten trio shit ,, playing around with his loud ass engine revving it up. then goes on his spotify premium with one of his favorite playlists

for stay home dates mitsuya sets up his record player to play old, classics and sway his partner around when they aren't feeling so good to cheer them up :(

sleeping/nap dates with mikey are a staple ! no matter if you're immersed on a book or your scholastic duties, or even cooking he will pull you for a nap.

sanzu plays around with tarot cards and gives readings when he's completely high or drunk. the other executives pay no mind to it, but when he sobers up and asks the execs what he said about the cards and goes 'yeah, that sounds just about right, but just this and that too." the execs look blown out of their mind and slightly scared that he remembers

★ all works belong to @urfavslav , do not repost on anywhere else with or without credit, do not plagiarise. thank you !

#tokyo rev headcanons #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #ran headcanons #senju headcanons #hanma headcanons #emma headcanons #baji headcanons #sanzu headcanons #kakucho headcanons #shinichiro headcanons #south headcanons #mikey headcanons #manjiro headcanons #mitsuya headcanons #urfavslav stories !

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snkvnks · 11 months

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rockstar! reader x sub! micheal afton

:::

⦂ requested, nope! (kinda)

⦂ description, reader is a famous rockstar and micheal is her boyfriend at home. one night mike goes to a regular gig of hers to support his girlfriend

⦂ this fic includes, smut , swearing …. oral (m! receiving) just a lot of smut .. read at ur own risk! 18 +

enjoy <3

y/n was just finishing with her guitar solo, sweat dripping down her forehead, her hands sore , she tucked her beautiful h/c lose hair behind her ears , her outfit was just plain hot , a black revealing tank top, very short ripped jeans and lots of sliver jewelry, face piercings, and black boots.

her boyfriend micheal was in the crowd watching his hot rockstar girlfriend play her f/c guitar like a fucking groupie. he was watching her and only her despite all of her other band members in complete awe and admiration, and he was getting very horny watching her fingers move fast on her guitar while he was at it , god he desperately wanted to go up to the stage and fuck her right there right in front of everybody, but sadly , he couldn’t. he had leave up what he could see in front of him to his imagination, and from the front row , he could see a lot, especially her curves and ever time she made any sudden movements, her tits would bounce, which made him even more horny and sweaty then before , he felt very hot and his pants tight.

‘oh g-god y/n! sweetheart s-slow down’ micheal let out a breathy moan as y/n sucked his cock in her changing room backstage , ‘mmh mikey you just couldn’t wait until my gig was over , fucking brat’ y/n harshly whispered into his ears in a hot tone, then she continued to suck his cock, drool dripping from her mouth , his eyes rolled back in pleasure, low moans coming out of the boy.

5 minutes later micheal came into her mouth, his cum dripping onto her chin “y/n , princess, please more” he pleads desperately, “mmmh no” she replies smugly, licking the remaining cum off of her lips. She stands up from her kneeling position, leaving mike exposed in her changing room. As she leaves her changing room Micheal calls behind her “you’ll regret leaving me like this !” He says still with horny thoughts and his cum covered dick out.

:::

⦂ a/n , bye that was so bad 😭 n so short what

lemme know if y’all want a part 2 😻

***

pls do not copy or translate my work !

#mike x reader #micheal afton smut #micheal afton

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xaeethebaee · 1 year

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The Escapades of Toman [Snippet]

MINORS DNI! 18+ READERS ONLY!

A/n: Sorry for disappearing for 2 months. I'm going to make up for lost time, starting with a project that I am working on. This is just a snippet of the Toman Sex Story fanfic that I have teased a few times before my disappearance. Also, keep in mind that this is just a draft.

Warnings: Mentions of vomit

So many interesting and eventful stories have been shared tonight, leaving many of the Toman executives baffled by each other’s sexual escapades. Draken is still giving his leader a piercing side eye due to the unexpected revelation of Mikey’s story while Takemitchi finds himself bewildered at Angry who was so proud of sharing his story about the threesome he had behind the restraunt.

“You guys are so fucking weird.” Draken remarks while heaving out an exasperated sigh.

Amused, Baji just chuckles before stating in a matter-of-fact tone:

“Says the man who fucked Hanma’s wife while he watched! Did you fuck him too?!”

“No!”

The vice commander immediately denies it, but judging from the red dusting his cheeks and the guilty expression on his face, there is more to the story than what he initially shared with the rest of the gang. Everyone around the table notices; however, they silently agreed not to question him further once they realize who is next to share their craziest sex story.

An anxious Hakkai just takes a big gulp from his wine glass. His swallow echoed throughout the room as the gang wait for him to tell his story.

“It’s not really crazy, honestly.” The youngest Shiba admits.

“It can’t be as boring as Smiley’s.”

Mitsuya drunkenly points out while letting out a series of laughs. The older twin just chuckles at the comment as he leans back in his chair. He crosses his arms and while never dropping the grin on his face he states:

“If you consider my story boring, then I can’t imagine the disgusting shit you’ve been into.”

“If only you knew, Nahoya Kawata.”

Mitsuya slurs out before subtly leaning closer to Baji. The only person who managed to notice the small gesture was Chifuyu who just brushes it off as Mitsuya’s drunken antics.

“I don’t know. The part about Smiley making the girl vomit was a bit unnerving - not to mention disgusting.” Peh-yan interjects.

“Yeah, it’s honestly disturbing that you got so aroused by that.” Chifuyu shares his agreement.

Put off by the most recent remark, Kazutora shoots a smirk straight at the 5th division’s vice-captain. With him being almost as drunk as Mitsuya, Kazutora just burst out laughing once he thinks back to just weeks ago.

“Are you still upset about getting caught with your girlfriend?!”

Now, it is Baji’s turn to laugh only to end up coughing due to still being in the middle of taking a sip of his drink. The rest of the gang immediately starts chuckling while Chifuyu’s face is dusted with red. Although embarrassed, he speaks up to defend himself:

“Dumbass, you left your phone unmuted while you fucked your girlfriend! We all had to sit there and listen to your gross pet names!”

The 5th division captain laughs even louder as the alcohol in his system slowly takes control of his actions. With the little sobriety he has left, he uses the pink hair tie on his wrist to pull his long dark hair into a ponytail. As he does that, he states:

“Both of you find the worst times to fuck your girlfriends!”

“That’s rich coming the guy who always gets caught fucking in parking lots!”

Immediately came Chifuyu’s rebuttal, causing the laughter in the room to become louder.

A few minutes of laughter has gone by and Mikey is the first to speak though his chuckles are still heard.

“It is still Hakkai’s turn to share.”

He states, and then the rest of the men quickly bring their attention back to Hakkai whose face is blushing red. He leans forward, putting his elbows on the table while resting his head in his hand. After taking a deep breath, he reluctantly shares his crazy story.

~~~

A/n: What do y'all think of this so far? Let me know if you wanna be tagged in the full story too.

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slibraries · 1 year

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Right Where You Left Me

Anyway, here's some angst

Contains: Carmy being angsty, al-anon meetings, male m*stburbation, The Box, mentions of s*icide

Carmy’s back in Chicago for less than forty-eight hours before Sugar brings you up. “You should go see her, Carmy.” He bites back what he wants to say, (“fuck off, Sugar.”) and takes a deep breath so he doesn’t feel like he’s drowning.

(He still feels like he’s drowning.)

“I know.”

He doesn’t go see you, and you don’t come see him, and life goes on. He hires Sydney, because she’s fucking incredible, and he works on the menu, and he doesn’t miss you.

(Except when he does miss you, which is all fucking the time. It’s worst early in the morning when it feels like there’s a knife shoved under his ribs.)

((And if that ache settles under the finch tattoo on his rib cage, that’s nobody’s business.))

He goes to meetings and learns how to talk about Mikey and what happened and how to let people in. He’s at a meeting when he sees you for the first time since that Christmas he called you a bitch and then moved halfway across the world. You’re speaking, because the universe hates him, about your ex-husband’s suicide and him leaving the restaurant to his little brother.

“I didn’t divorce Mikey because I stopped loving him, I love him more than words. I divorced him because I couldn’t do this.” You gesture at the people sitting in front of you. The light catches the diamond ring around a chain on your neck and Carmy stops being able to breathe. He’s out of the room before you can finish your share.

He shoves you into a tiny box in his mind, labeled DO NOT OPEN in big, bold, red letters, and tries to forget.

(When he inevitably wakes up at night, his hand is resting on his rib cage, covering the finch tattoo he’d gotten on your eighteenth birthday because he would’ve done anything you’d asked, and he doesn’t fall back asleep.)

It’s Sydney who opens The Box, completely by accident. “Chef, somebody ordered a Finch special and Tina won’t tell me what it is,” (fuck, T’s still giving her trouble), “and I…it’s not on the menu so I’m just—“

“It’s an Italian beef sandwich with pickles, Lays crumbled on it, a Diet Coke, and a cookie.” Your order is etched onto his mind. Carmy can’t name the capital of Montana or give directions or diagram a sentence (whatever the fuck that means) but he knows your order. Sydney gives him a strange look.

“Is that all, Chef?”

“Yes, Chef. Thank you, Chef.”

He spends the rest of the shift trying to close The Box.

He goes home and dreams about being bracketed by silky smooth thighs. He dreams about hands in his hair and gasps of pleasure. The piercing cries of the fire alarm pull him back into the world of the living.

It takes him all of five minutes after CFD gives them the all clear to go back upstairs before he’s frustratedly shoving a hand into his boxers to palm himself. He’s still half hard from the dream and the memory of being wrapped inside you. His hand doesn’t compare but it sends sparks through his body nonetheless. Carmy doesn’t touch himself very often, too exhausted after work and too Catholic.

He always thinks of you when he does. His first everything. Your smile, your eyes, the twinkle in your eye when you give him shit about something, the way you move when you’re dancing around the kitchen. His strokes speed up as he imagines your face full of pleasure.

(The few times you’d had sex before he broke your heart and left were incredible for him. He’s certain you didn’t cum.)

Carmy spills into his hand and onto his chest. He lets the cum dry there, evidence of his shame.

It’s a Thursday when Carmy speaks to you for the first time since he came back to Chicago.

(Because fuck Thursdays)

He isn’t even supposed to work front of house. Richie’s out because Ava’s sick, Fak’s in the back trying to fix the AC, Tina had to go pick up Luis from school, and Sydney needs everyone else so he’s up front. It’s been a shit day from the start. It’s hot as fuck outside, so his apartment is sweltering. He’d been covered in sweat before he’d even stepped out into the summer heat. The Beef isn’t any cooler

”Carmen?”

And there you are, his worst nightmare and his most cherished dream, standing in front of him.

You smile and it’s as beautiful (maybe more?) as he remembers. He can tell right away that the grief has taken a toll on you. Your hair is a little duller than in the wedding photo he’d found in the office, your smile not as radiant, your eyes tired. You’re still absolutely, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He’s been to parties with the top models in the world (at which he’d sat alone in the corner) and you still take the cake.

“Uh, hey Finch. Hey.”

You look around him at the grungy Beef. “Haven’t changed anything, have you? Good, as co-owner, I get a say on any major changes.” You’re grinning at him but he’s brain stuck on that word, co-owner. You’d owned it with Mikey, of course you had, you’d been his wife. You laughed. “‘M kidding, Carmen. I let Mikey have it in the divorce. You can do what you want with the Beef.” He really shouldn’t feel such relief that you wouldn’t be here, and he shouldn’t hate you calling him Carmen as much as he did.

“Finch, ya don’t hafta…you don’t have to call me Carmen.”

Your grin, that grin her loved so much, faltered. “I know. But you never…we haven’t…what are…” it wasn’t like you to have trouble finding your words, and he hated that he was the cause of it. “Carmen is safe.” That shouldn’t hurt as much as it did. “You know you’re always safe with me, Finch.” Your look wasn’t quite withering, but it made him feel impossibly small. “Am I, Carmen?” Before he could say yes, you are, or I still love you, Fak appeared at his shoulder and started talking your ear off.

You’re gone before he can take your order.

#the bear #the bear x reader #carmy x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy x reader #tw: mentions of suicide

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ashlingiswriting · 1 year

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do i know you? chapter four

[ 5k words ] [ prev chapters: one, two, three ] [ masterlist ] "he's actually asking you the question—you, of all people. it’s so funny, it could break your heart." richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn warning: vague conversation about assault (no actual assault happened against any canon character), organized crime activities, mild claustrophobia

when you push open the door, you expect to find richie tucked away safe from the harsh wind, leaning against the wall in his usual spot. instead, he’s sitting on the sidewalk in front of your building, his ass on the curb and his feet on the asphalt, like he’s daring the cars to run over his toes. he doesn’t look like he’s waiting for somebody, he looks abandoned.

you tuck away your latest story—egyptian history is clearly not meant for tonight—and walk over to him. what’s up?

he says nothing.

all right, then. you sigh and you drop into a squat beside him, both feet flat, knees under your upper arms, and arms loosely crossed.

i can do this all night, you say.

his eyes don’t so much as flicker. his big black leather jacket has always looked ridiculous, oversized, like he’s playing dress up in his dad’s clothes, but there’s a touch of pathos to the slouch of it now. there’s a weariness that has soaked into him because he’s been marinating in it over the months. there’s pain, too, so much that you can’t help but think of michael.

it’s eva, he finally says.

the richie bad news thing? you say. it’s a wild guess but better than nothing. you have to say something, anchor him before he drifts off again.

he shakes his head. she said this man at school, he, uh. he really freaked her out today. i don’t know.

your stomach drops. nausea sets in immediately, but you push past it. step one is to protect her, and everything else can be dealt with later. you’re horrified to discover that after all that painstaking care you spent making sure he’s never cross-contaminated with your business, now there’s no choice. now there’s a threat. whatever the cost of the method, the threat has to end.

uncrossing your arms, you reach out and put your hand on richie’s arm, grip him firm through the leather jacket, and look at him squarely.

he blinks, looks down at your hand—you’ve never touched him before—and then up at your face.

slow, steady, marshaling every word of your command to pierce through the fog he’s in, you say: don’t do anything. i know a guy.

at that, his eyes sharpen and narrow, baffled. what are you talking about? he says. ow, jesus.

you search his face hard and clutch his arm even harder, like you can wring the truth out of him by the strength of your fingers alone.

she’s okay? you say.

she’s okay.

oh. pause. when the relief hits, it hits so hard, it’s nearly grief and it’s far too late. your mouth has gone bitter and your heartbeat is like a jackhammer to cement, reverberating through your body loud and fast and unstoppable. you let go of him.

richie’s face wrinkles with confusion, and he figures it out entire minutes too late. why would you think—

because it’s always some dirty old man, there’s always—you have to stop. your voice has gone transparent and you’re helpless to fix it. swallowing hard doesn’t help. standing up so fast that you’re lightheaded, that helps a little, though you don’t like the useless swing of your arms at your sides.

finally, you manage to say, i’m not crazy, these things fucking happen.

these things happen, but eva’s okay. nothing’s happened to her. richie says it with a terrible gentleness you can imagine him bestowing on a car crash survivor or a starved stray dog. his hand closes over your ankle through your jeans, the touch a shockwave that goes right through you. hey, i’m sorry, he says.

between leftover nausea and fresh embarrassment, you can’t even look at him, so stare far over his head and say, don’t.

he lets go. you wish he didn’t.

after a while, he says, you’ve never even met her.

she’s yours, though.

and there it is. the truth. you don’t know when this happened, but somewhere along the way, your care has stopped being richie’s inheritance from michael. now you care simply because it’s richie. it’s a surprise to find that there is someone left alive you’d kill for, but it also feels completely natural. if you’re dropped in water, you will swim. if you’re hit, you’ll hit back. if eva ever does get in trouble, you’ll do what you have to do. and that’s it.

the thought becomes so real you could touch it like a photograph in your back pocket. there’s someone left that you’d kill for. good to know.

you turn away from him, using the wind as an excuse, sheltering your cigarette and lighting it up again. richie stays sitting right where he is, as though you haven’t confessed anything. there really is a merciful streak in him about five miles wide.

the nausea abates, after a little while. the thought occurs to you that you can’t just get lost in your head again. he’s still sitting there, he still needs you.

so what’d this guy say. you keep your voice as casual as you can. the man at the school. what freaked her out so bad?

never mind, richie says. it’s okay.

i swear to god, richie, after all that, you better tell me about it.

okay, he says, every bit as exhausted and miserable as before, but at least no longer fully bogged down in his own head. you wanna sit down?

no.

he nods. into the fraught silence, his words come slower now. he speaks like he’s groping in the dark for the shape of his thoughts, fitting his hand to each individual word, mindful of sharp edges.

a poet visited her school today. he’d written something for them about the class caterpillar that died last week. i don’t know whose genius idea that was, but anyway. he pauses. now she’s asking me about things dying. people dying, you know. her mom. me.

after a second, you say, fucking poets, with real sympathy.

he nods wearily. somebody shot at the beef today too. we’re fine, nobody got hurt, it’s nothing, it’s. he rubs his forehead with his hand. it was a nice poem.

yeah? you say.

whole city’s just fucking…

he gestures once, gives up, and lets his hand dangle from his knee.

after a second, you sit down next to him, cross-legged and companionable.

what was it like? you say. the poem.

i can’t remember the words, he says. the general idea was, like. all a caterpillar needs to do is be what it is. eat everything, dream of flying. that’s what it’s meant to do. he looks over. you know what we’re meant to do?

he's actually asking you the question—you, of all people. it’s so funny, it could break your heart. you shake your head.

me neither. when he looks back out at the street, his eyes rest on the shadows in a way that makes the shadows seem that much more desolate. i mean, i’ve done things, but not. he doesn’t finish the thought aloud.

finally, he says, what would a poet even do with me?

a dark suspicion tries to grab onto, but it’s so ludicrous and so extreme that you bat it away. you just made the mistake of falling prey to a baseless, sick fear once. twice in one night, that’s too much.

what would a poet do with either of us? you say. but you’re not gonna die.

i might.

the worst thing about it is how quiet richie says it. it's not an argument. it's just a fact.

you’re not, you say fiercely.

richie turns his head and looks at you, his blue eyes fraught and unwavering.

how do you know?

ping!

fuck. your phone shouldn’t go off now, of all times. you haven’t had to deal with so much as a simple flesh wound since little caruso got shipped to the hospital, and now is the moment you get called in? if you ignore this text while you’re supposed to be on call, you could get fired or worse.

you ignore the text. back to the question: how do you know richie’s not gonna die? because he can’t. because you won’t allow it.

you say, if you’re not around, who’s gonna explain to your daughter that poets are all a bunch of shitheads?

ping! ping! ping!

fuck me, you mutter, putting your phone on vibrate.

it’s all right, never mind, richie says. he looks faintly sick, or maybe that’s just the cold and the time of night.

it’s not all right, but you open your phone anyway. as you start reading the texts, your heart rate goes into overdrive and the eerie calm of crisis descends on you.

i’m sorry, you say, meaning it. i’m really sorry. but you gotta get out of here.

as if to drive home your point, your phone vibrates in your hand with two more texts.

at first richie doesn’t move, and you’re afraid he’ll argue, or protest, or do anything that will force your hand to choose cruelty so you can get rid of him fast. but instead, he finally hauls himself to his feet.

you know a guy, huh, he says.

you don’t want to acknowledge the insinuation with any kind of an answer, which as it turns out is a mistake.

it’s all right, he says. i’m kind of a diy guy myself.

you look up. don’t be.

the wind is tearing at your hair, and at that angle, in shadow, his eyes look unusually dark, not one hint of blue.

i can’t track the fucking joke with you sometimes, richie says.

i’m not joking.

your phone vibrates once again.

fuck. you have no choice. you stand up, look at him as kindly as you know how, and say, get out of here. please.

and he does.

the texts come from an anonymous number, just like always.

> 28 ppl carbon monoxide poisoning

> 2 dead already

> no hospital

> beth can’t come

> 3 dead

> be there soon

the answer is obvious. if the poisoning has gotten so advanced that some of the victims are already dying, then only in-hospital treatment can save them. even a quick google could’ve come up with this answer, and yet it feels like it’s taking you twice as long to reason it out when half your brain is helplessly looping over and over on you’re not gonna die and i might.

when a black corolla pulls up next to you only a minute later, you yank open the passenger’s side door only to find the seat already occupied.

holy shit.

jack? you say, stunned. i thought you were in prison.

he’s big, round-shouldered and full-bearded, and he looks even bigger squashed into this small car. he’s also sweating like a motherfucker.

i was. get in.

you hurl yourself into the backseat and the driver takes off before you’ve even managed to get your hand on the seatbelt. the sudden violence sets you back on track. who cares how the oldest caruso kid got free? what matters are your patients.

listen, if we don’t do a hospital drop, these people are all dead, you say.

why?

you’re so grateful it’s jack. he’s brutally competent and efficient, not a word or a breath wasted, and he’s the only caruso kid who ever actually listens to you.

if carbon monoxide poisoning is this bad, we can’t just slap a bunch of oxygen masks on them and call it a day. that’s not enough, it won’t work fast enough. not with three dead already.

what do we need?

your skin is practically humming. hyperbaric chamber. lay them in an airtight container built specially for the purpose, fill it with pure oxygen, crank up the pressure. this is the kind of equipment that costs hundreds of thousands of dollars, so they probably don’t even have them at a place like saint anthony’s. these people need a level care of care that only northwestern-level money can buy, okay? or maybe uic. i don’t even think they’ll have enough chambers for all of them in one building, we might have to do two separate dumps, or—

no hospitals, jack says. we have orders.

now you remember why he’s the worst of the caruso kids too. he’s the smartest, which means he should fucking know better.

how much do these people know? you say. when that gets you nowhere, you drop subtlety and go straight for the jugular. are you really willing to kill twenty-five people just to please your fucking dad?

i’d kill you if i got orders, he says. don’t waste time.

it’s a breathtaking thing to hear, and yet, on some level, you were expecting it. after a second, you say, they’re dead, then. but tell me what we got.

no hospital raids, not around here. dad says it might fuck things up for little if a theft cranks up hospital security. but you’ve got as many oxygen canisters as you want down at the blackbird processing plant.

and that’s where we’re headed?

yeah.

okay, you say, and it sounds like a question. but then, five minutes later, you say okay like it’s the answer too.

jack fully turns around in his seat to look at you. he’s going prematurely gray at the temples, and in the dark, his eyes look bottomless.

what do you need? he says.

and for once, you know. what you need, what you are, and what you’re meant to do. so you tell him.

when you arrive, there are only a few lights on inside the factory. you and jack get on an indoor vehicle, a little white golf cart, and speed through a looming, shadowy forest of metallic machinery.

your patients are waiting for you, all of them unconscious and laid out neatly like logs in two rows on the ground. their faces and clothes look sickeningly similar to each other, so you glance at jack and mentally add human trafficking to the long list of his family’s crimes.

there’s also around two dozen men who all came to attention when jack stepped off the golf cart, standing silent and expectant. one of them is different from the others, a short man with the distinctive, overwhelmed expression of a civilian who just got drafted. that must be roberto, the floor manager that you talked to earlier on the phone.

sedatives? you say, and one of the men hands you a big plastic bin full of smaller boxes. you pick one up and squint at the tiny print on the white and orange label. fuck me.

the sedative they managed to get on short notice? it’s dormosedan. which is mean to be used on fucking horses. horses. jesus christ. yeah no, you’re not giving that to your patients.

we’ve got ahold of ten oxygen masks, says jack. eta twenty minutes.

you shake your head. you can see everything in viciously crisp color, time has slowed to syrup, and you can clock even the far-off horn of a distant train. oxygen masks aren’t enough.

turning to roberto, you gesture at the massive section of piping in front of you. is that it?

i don’t think it’ll work, he says, this close to shaking.

you speak past him to the assembled men. load them.

beside you, jack nods. with that, the men begin picking up your patients and carrying them to the wide-open hatch in the huge pipe, getting down on hands and knees, crawling, and pulling the unconscious people after them.

you can’t do this, roberto says. we have to call the cops, we can’t just—

jack reaches for the gun tucked into his jeans and you close your hand over his wrist just in time to stop him from pulling it out. if he gives this guy a heart attack, that’s just one more casualty for you to deal with.

roberto, this is fucking happening, you say. you let go of jack’s wrist, go over, and lean in close to him, ignoring his flinch. you lower your voice. please don’t make me deal with another casualty, we’ve got enough of those already.

after a second, roberto walks away and put his password into the control pad.

when the hatch closes, there are two bodies left lying on the floor, people who are already dead and thus not worth loading. how many patients left living does that make? twenty-four? twenty-three? you’ve lost count.

flood it with oxygen and then increase the pressure, you say to roberto.

how high do you want the pressure?

double whatever the psi is right now.

you can actually see the movement of roberto’s adam’s apple as he swallows.

hey, you say warningly.

after a second, he types in the command. you can hear the humming of the machine as the pressure increases.

you want me to pause it in intervals so the pressure doesn’t increase too fast? he says.

you have no fucking idea. no, you say. just do it.

you take out your phone and start a timer. you don’t even know how long these people should be in for, or how long the canisters will last, but you sit there with your pencil and paper, gather what you know, and get to work.

they can’t stay in for too long, because you’re terrified of one of them improving enough to wake up trapped in the dark. they’d die of a fucking heart attack, breaking into the list of the world’s top ten most miserable deaths. on the other hand, they have to stay in as long as it takes to oxygenate them, or they’ll be dead for certain. and a third consideration? if they’re in for too long, there is such a thing as oxygen poisoning. which. fucking hell.

you write out your calculations so hurriedly that you can barely read your own figures. god only knows if they’re correct. you finally come up with a number of minutes, and once that time has passed, you tell roberto to lower the pressure. in intervals this time, with pauses in between. after all this maniac effort, you’re not gonna lose anyone to the bends like they’re fucking scuba divers. no, no. you’ve entered the stage when everything is hopeful with zero basis in fact. they’re all gonna make it. every last one of them.

this is the worst part. the part when all the decisions have been made, and all you can do is stand there and wait. you abandon your paper and pencil on the floor and begin to pace like a maniac, not caring who sees you.

jack is texting to somebody on his phone, mountainous and intent, but when you pass by him, he says, homemade hyperbaric chamber.

are you supposed to feel fucking encouraged by that?

if they all die, you’re gonna have to kill me too, you mutter in a venomous undertone.

don’t make threats.

the oxygen masks arrive. turns out that only eight of them work, but at least they come with appropriately sized canisters. you instruct jack’s men on how to use the masks on the patients once they emerge from the pipe. if more than eight patients end up making it, they’ll have to rotate the masks between the patients in fifteen-minute intervals. somehow, you don’t think that will be a problem.

you can hear roberto praying quietly in the background.

time disappears, and the one thing you want most in the world is a smoke, though you can’t have it, not with all these gas canisters around. just one cigarette, that would save you. not a menthol, a sapphire. or maybe just standing partly sheltered from the wind in a spot that smells of those cigarettes, drinking half a smile over a stupid joke, you want it to be over already, you want to go home—

finally, the pipe has been completely depressurized and the patients are taken out one by one and laid out once again in their two rows. you dart forward, accidentally bashing your shoulder against an unexpected bit of machinery in the dark, and kneel beside the first one you see.

the woman is weathered and broad shouldered, somewhere in her forties, and looking as peaceful as if she’s just taking a nap. there are strands of gray in her dark hair and laugh lines in the corners of her eyes. you don’t want to check her pulse, but you do.

she’s alive.

all around you, there are footsteps padding by you, quiet words being exchanged. survivors are being laid out, men are fixing the oxygen masks on them, and somewhere in the background, roberto is trying to argue with jack, his voice pitching ever higher with every denial he’s dealt. some of the machines are being turned on in preparation for the morning’s work, great dark monsters humming and growling at each other in the dark.

this is not over. there is so much left to do. and yet, for a moment, you close your eyes and feel her pulse murmuring it into your fingertips: still here, still here.

when you were first charged with the care of these people, twenty-five of them were alive. by the time they’re carried away from the factory and you’re forced to go home, only nineteen of them are still breathing.

it’s nineteen more than you thought you could save. it’s still not enough.

when the car drops you off at your building, your eyes go to the spot where richie should be standing, but of course he’s not there. it’s morning, not his hour. why you were expecting him, you don’t know.

you want to tell him about this night more than anything, but you know you never can and you never will.

you find him laid out neatly like a log, gone cold and facing up. no blood, no wound, nobody else. at least this time they let you come and see him.

the sun comes up over the bridge and stains the cityscape as gold as good. oh, michael.

you kneel without a prayer, run your fingertips across his sweater, soft and slow as though you could still wake him up. your knuckles knock against metal, so you stop short, look down, and there it is: the gun, your gun, the ready death you try to pull from out of his fingers.

baby, let it go.

his grip goes tight, his blue eyes open slow.

the sound of your evening alarm tears you out of your dreams. you find yourself clutching at empty air so tightly that your nails leave red half-moons in your palms, and at first, you remember nothing but the feeling.

it all comes back in bits and pieces jumbled together: the little white golf cart speeding through the factory floor, the sunrise over the bridge, closed eyes above oxygen masks, the rows of bodies, richie’s eyes. you’re not gonna die and i might.

you sit up fast, fully awake. a chest-crushing certainty takes hold. all the old excuses are carried away from you like paper in the wind.

he says shit that would scare anyone into wondering if he’s okay, but then he turns around and jokes like nothing’s wrong. he has people he loves dearly, but he still comes to you for comfort that you are hardly able to provide. he has access to a gun. this time, it’ll be his own. other than that, it’s all the same as last time.

the fact that you’ve noticed the pattern is no comfort to you at all. by now, you know richie right down to the ground, from his peculiar little habits to his pet baseball peeves to his customary jewelry to the shape his mouth makes when he doesn’t want to admit that you’re funny. you know him so well.

and you’ve only ever been able to save people if they’re total strangers.

by the time richie strolls up to your building, it’s occurred to you that somewhere in the haze of grief and touch starvation and whatever words a shrink would use to describe the feeling of twenty-five lives depending on you, maybe, just maybe, you’ve gone a little fucking crazy yourself.

jack won’t return your texts or calls, so you have no idea how your patients are doing, and that is so deeply fucking upsetting that you swerve right back to richie.

maybe richie’s not deeply depressed. maybe it’s like the time—literally yesterday—when you assumed eva got hurt and psyched yourself up to request permission from old caruso for a full-on murder.

also, and this cannot be emphasized enough: you only slept for two hours.

so, mustering the last bit of mental strength left at your disposal, you head downstairs early and decide not to bring up your batshit theory unless you’ve got actual evidence that you’re right.

richie seems a surprised to find you waiting for him, and he approaches a little awkwardly, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets. the sight of him alone is enough to calm you a little, the reality of his stained shirt and haggard face.

hey, you say, in your very best imitation of a normal person.

yo, he says. last night was.

yeah, you say. then, as casual as you can, you good?

he shrugs. i am if you are?

you nod. in the silence, you can feel the awkwardness draining away, so you give it a little while before you finally say say, so what’s the story, morning glory?

his nose is running a little and he’s as tired as ever, but the smile is real. you wanna see something crazy?

always.

he gets his phone out of his pocket and flips through a blur of emoji-studded texts to find the thing he’s looking for.

my buddy tim got video of this crazy fight on the l this morning. looks exactly like that one with the nerd. like, same fucking thing, i swear to god.

he turns to you and catches you watching him close, soaking him up. he’s stubble-cheeked and grinning, he’s standing solid, he’s completely fucking fine. he has to be.

what one with the nerd, you say, a little too late. noticeably too late, so you add an explanation. i didn’t get much sleep last night.

yeah, i wasn’t gonna say, but. he raises his eyebrows, tilts the words playful enough so they’re not a threat. secret agent?

you hum a bit of the james bond theme song, then point at his phone. you’re gonna have to show me the nerd one first, cause i don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.

you’re gonna love this, he says.

you shake your head as you get out your pack and your lighter. you have no idea what it’s gonna be, but you’re smiling already. am i actually gonna love this, or is—

no, you’re actually gonna love it, he says.

cause you remember the one with the fuckin poacher trying—

well, maybe my tastes are a little too eclectic for you, a little too avant fucking garde, but—

avant—you burst out laughing. you bruce springsteen motherfucker, don’t talk to me about avant garde.

bruce springsteen is the man, was that supposed to be an insult? before you can say a thing in your defense, he interrupts. shh, it’s starting.

you lean against the wall and watch. you’re not gonna cry, but there’s something in the way his body protects you a little extra from the wind. he’s okay. he’s okay, so you must be too.

the video turns out to be exactly the opposite of what you expected, because the nerd wins. in detail, a meathead picks a fight with a skinny little twentysomething redhead, and the redhead retaliates so fast and dirty that even the meathead’s friends seem impressed when they arrive on the scene drag the redhead off him.

right? richie says, when the video ends, supremely satisfied. it’s so funny to you that he loves that video, because between meathead and nerd, you wouldn’t have guessed him as identifying with the nerd. rather than ask him about it, you settle for a childish little poke. you’re too exhausted to do anything else.

that’s a nerd to you? you say.

he’s wearing fucking glasses, what else do you want.

everyone wears glasses, numbskull. you flick the screen with a finger. that’s not a nerd.

richie splutters. and he’s short!

everyone’s short to you.

richie half turns to you and leans a little into your personal space, looming in a way that makes him occupy your whole field of vision. you stand your ground on instinct.

yeah, you’re short to me all right, he says.

well, you’re fucking…

he’s so tall, and that’s terrible, and yet you kind of wish he was even taller so his face wouldn’t be so close to your face. there’s really nothing you can think of to say. you’ve well and truly lost the plot.

richie bursts out laughing.

…a pain in my ass, is what you are, you say. rick.

so you got no sleep last night, he says, still laughing but moving back a fraction, letting up.

you shake your head ruefully. like none.

then what are you doing vertical?

good question. technically, it’s against the rules for you to sleep while you’re on call, but at this point you’re pretty done with the carusos and their fucking rules and you really only got out of bed this morning so you could see richie.

you shrug and raise your cigarette, half hoping he gets it and half hoping he doesn’t.

he does, of course. you can tell by the way he says, go, then. go take a nap.

you should be grateful that you’ve gotten through the conversation without making an utter fool of yourself with your little conspiracy theory, but being with him right now feels so easy, you don’t want to leave it behind.

you good? you say.

i’m fucking golden, baby.

so you leave. as you wait for the elevator to come down and get you, you look back at him one last time through the glass of the apartment building’s doors. he’s standing there watching one of his videos, totally engrossed, totally delighted, his fist pressed to his mouth.

sleep should be safe for you now, right? sleep should be safe for you now.

[ chapter five ] [ masterlist ]

@garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @beingalive1, @eternallyvenus, @cerial-junkie — if anyone else wants a tag, let me know.

#richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #the bear fanfic #mine #readerfic #do i know you?#the bear imagine #this chapter kicked my ass lmao. but i fought back #thank you everyone who said anything it all really fueled me <333 #diky

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geralts-yenn · 1 year

Text

Ice cream, brownies and a hug

Mikey (hellraiser) x reader

summary: just a little drabble for someone who deserves a hug 💕

warnings: mental health issues (depression, anxiety)

word count: 1,3k

A/N: This is really just a little fluff. If you feel like you need a Mikey to feed you and wrap you in your arms, treat yourself!

When you opened the door, there was a huge paper bag floating directly in front of your face. But after the first surprise, you noticed the beautiful hands that were wrapped around the brown paper. You would have recognised them everywhere.

“Mikey?” you asked incredulously. After the fraction of a second that had you seriously happy that he was standing at your porch, you realized the state you were in. And we’re not even talking about the mess that your mental state was. It was your physical appearance that made you want to be swallowed by the earth immediately. You were wearing some old sweatpants that hung baggy at your hips, and the oversized shirt you had been wearing the last three days and nights had food stains all over it. And of course you hadn’t bothered to wear a bra or comb your hair in days.

So you just stood there with your mouth agape.

Some dark curls and a pair of piercing blue eyes appeared above the bag. “Will you let me in, sweetcheeks? Or do I have to wait until the ice cream is dripping on my shoes?” Mikey lowered the bag and presented his cheekiest smile.

“How’d you know where I live?” you asked him, still not processing what was happening. After you had spent days just lying in bed and watching cartoons to silence your brain, you weren’t able to form a clear thought.

“Don’t you remember the day when you spent the whole night in the coffee shop with your laptop studying? I walked you home…"

Right! How could you have forgotten about that night? You had been working way too long on a presentation and when you almost fell asleep over your computer, Mike put a plate with brownies and ice cream on your table, another cup of coffee and then he made you laugh with his silly stories.

You were his last customer and he insisted on bringing you home safely after closing.

That night, you almost dared to kiss him. But then the moment went by and he had pulled out of your embrace.

"This won't be ice cream any longer soon, baby cakes!" Mikey pushed the paper bag into your arms and just walked into your small apartment, pulling you out of your memories.

He toed off his shoes and glanced around curiously, just ignoring the fact that you were still standing there like an idiot, not saying a single word.

Finally, you realised you should do something. So you put the bag onto your small table and pulled out two containers of ice cream and a package wrapped in tin foil. You unpacked it and saw he had brought brownies.

"Sorry for not giving you a heads-up that I was coming, but for whatever reason you never gave me your number. When you didn't show up for days, you had me a little worried."

He didn't ask you if you were okay. And it would have been ridiculous because it was well obvious that you weren't.

You looked down on you, taking in once more how awful you looked right now.

"Thank you for checking in on me." Your voice sounded hoarse and shaky. "Just serve yourself, please! I need to change into something more presentable."

"I don't mind." Mike told you with the sweetest smile you could imagine. "I think you're cute like this."

He moved closer to you, but before he could reach out for your shoulder, you quickly ran over to your bathroom door.

"Just give me a minute, okay?" you asked him and shut the door behind you. Your heart was racing in your chest. What the hell was he doing here? And what should you do now?

Having him here with you, in your home, was something you had been dreaming of for months. But not like this! Not with you right in the middle of a mental breakdown.

But Mikey had made it perfectly clear that he wouldn't let you make him leave. So you gave yourself a fast flannel wash, brushed your teeth and tried your best to tame your hair.

You looked around for something to change into. There were some clean pajamas, but they consisted of a silky camisole and matching pants. Revealing, but still better than the stained shirt, probably.

When you entered the lounge room again, Mike already sat on your couch, cross-legged, with a huge bowl of ice-cream in his lap. He beamed at you and nodded at the coffee table in front of him. There was a plate with brownies, topped with ice-cream and sprinkles, waiting for you.

Mike patted on the couch next to him.

"Come here, sweetcheeks!" he ordered you. You slowly approached the couch and sat down. The piece of furniture was too small to leave space between the two of you.

Mike put his own bowl back onto the table, took the plate and, you couldn't believe it, he slowly fed you the dessert he had brought.

"You know, I noticed you were not doing well the last few days. Your eyes, they looked so sad. I should have talked to you earlier. What can I do for you, cupcake?"

You swallowed and took a deep breath. Apparently, Mikey was here to comfort you. And as much strength as it cost you to let him see you like this, you decided to let him.

"Can you just give me a hug? And maybe watch a movie with me?"

"Sure that!" he said, smiling. He moved another spoonful of ice cream to your lips. And then another one, and another one until the plate was empty. Then he took the dishes and put them into the sink.

When he came back, he lay back onto the back of the couch and pulled you close to sit between his spread thighs.

He wrapped his arms around you and for the first time in days you felt truly comfortable, cradled in the warmth of Mike's body.

You never started any movie. You just sat there, Mike was holding you as close to his chest as possible and breathed slowly, silently asking you to follow his pace and relax in his arms.

And it was working. You felt your muscles slowly loosening their tension. And even more important, your brain stopped rummaging. You felt nothing, except Mikey, all over you.

It could have been hours or just seconds, you couldn't tell. Mikey brushed his fingers over your temple down to your chin and carefully pushed it up, so his eyes could find yours.

"Would you mind if I kissed you?" His voice was almost a whisper.

Instead of an answer, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to you.

Ever so softly, his lips brushed over yours.

#mikey hellraiser #my writing #just a little fluff #sending hugs #ice cream brownies and a hug

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otherone12 · 2 months

Text

I Never...

Jealous!Mikey Way × Reader

-> Masterlist

A/N: Hey!! Again, nobody ask me for that, but i had THE idea. I was listen to my favorite playlist and “Mr. Brightside” started play. I thought about how it would be interesting to write about someone that's not Gerard… Well, here's a Mikey imagine. (Frank × Reader fic coming soon)

Summary - You start to date Mikey, and when you meet his friends and his brother, he starts to be a little too jealous, and that's become possessive and scarry.

- Word Count: 1.672

- Warnings: Possessive!Mikey

- Ps: This is just fiction, if you don't like this kind of fic, don't read it.

- Ps2: They/them pronouns!

- Ps3: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps4: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language ... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

1st person POV

Mikey and I met two years ago in our senior year, we became really close while we have the same classes and he was my partner at chemistry class. We like the same movies, the same bands and we’re both ‘the weirdos'. The connection between us was so intense then after some months our friendship turned to something a little more serious, and three weeks ago he asked me to date him. I said yes, of course.

We always hang out anywhere, just to enjoy each other’s company, smoking, drinking and talking under the moonlight. I can’t explain how it is to be with him, I just want that what we have will never fade out.

I’ve never met his family or friends, probably because we're too busy. They are a band, and i have a job too, so when we find free moments we want to be alone together, just him and i. Anyways, yesterday Mikey invited me to meet his friends and his brother. I’ll not lie, i was so fucking nervous about that, because i know that they come at first than me, so if they didn’t like me, it’s all over.

There was I, at the front door of his house. I felt my stomach churn with nervousness. Mikey talks a lot about how much he cares about them and how amazing they are, but I couldn't stop overthinking at the possibility that they will hate me.

I heard footsteps and the creaking of the door soon after.

- Finally! - He looked so excited that I forgot about my anxious thoughts for a second. - I’m so glad you're here… I haven't shut up a second about you since we set up this..

He came close to kiss me before I could say anything, his cold hands on my hips made me shiver, but I got used to this a long time ago.

-Well, i didn’t stop to think about it too… like in an unhealthy way, but i’m fine now, i guess. - I smiled at him and he held my hand.

- I’ll be there with you, don’t need to be nervous, babe. - The kind look behind his glasses calmed me down. I wasn’t calm enough, but it helped a lot. - Can we come inside?

- Yeah… I'm ready. - I laughed and he closed the door behind us, still holding my hand.

Was not my first time at his house, though at the last time, the house was empty, and I wasn’t about to throw up white nervousness.

We walked to the living room and I saw three guys sitting on the couch. The first one to get up to say ‘hi’ has a black messy long hair, and was wearing a Star Wars shirt, I knew the moment I saw him that he was Gerard, Mikey’s brother.

-So, this is my brother Gerard. - Mikey said, and Gerard shook my hand with a friendly smile.

- It's awesome to finally meet you! - Gerard says - Mikey talks A LOT about you. Like... all the time.

-Probably not as much as he talked about YOU. - I said and we giggled.

- I think you talk too much about anything… - The second guy started, he was shorter than the others and had a lip and a nose piercings. I deduced that it was Frank. - He is supposed to be the quiet one, right?

- Why don’t you go fuck yourself? - Mikey turned a bit red, which is really cute.

- Calm down, guys. We don’t need to fight… not now, not here, neither with an audience. - The last one seems to be the ‘dad’ kind, with an amazing curly hair, I was sure that was Ray. - I’m Ray, and he’s Frank. It's incredible to meet you.

We spent the whole afternoon talking, laughing, knowing each other better and eating some snacks. But I felt that Mikey wasn't enjoying that as much as the rest of us. I just wanted to know why.

Mikey’s 1st person POV

Don't get me wrong, I loved the fact that they were getting along, but the way Gerard was talking with MY partner was, at least, too much. The giggles and arm touches…

What if they liked Gee better than like me?? I mean, It's not without reason, he's an incredible guy, but I saw them first, HE HAS NO RIGHT TO STOLE THEM!

They're so excited… what if-

- Are you kidding? That's one of my favorite comic artists ever! - Why did they seem so close to him? They just met! - I have like… about twenty of his comics in my collection.

- NO WAY! You need to show me. - Gerard never gets along with people by the first conversation, maybe they had met before, maybe he was hanging out with them and just pretending they don't know each other. - And I can show you mine, if you want.

“Please say ‘no’” I begged in my head. I felt weird thinking this, but who wouldn't? Gerard is not the kind of guy who could do this, but anyway he is doing it right now.

- Sure! - Their eyes were glowing, and i can't help but feel my stomach in knots and my blood boiling with the idea of my brother at their house. - Maybe the next time Mikey goes there, he brings you too. So you can see my whole collection.

I was trying to focus In any other thing, but i couldn't, because when Gerard finally stop to fucking flirt with them, Frank came up and started to do the execly the same thing.

- So, you said you're learning to play guitar? - NO FUCKING WAY. I squeezed their hand tighter, which made em look at me confused - Ray and I could teach you some nice rifs.

My mind sounded like an off air TV, just noises and disjointed voices that made me want to scream, I stopped hear everything that was said in that room. I'm not this kind of guy, but when you love someone, you start to want to keep everybody far from them, right?

That conversation seemed to take days, but when it finally ended I was glad. I didn't say a word.

1st person POV

Mikey and I were walking outside the house, ‘cause he insisted on taking me home.

- Mikey, babe, are you okay? - He normally is the quiet one, but he was extremely quiet - You were acting a bit different… Did I say something wrong?

- What? No, I'm fine, and you did nothing wrong. - He didn't look in my eyes and kept walking. - And… you liked them?

- Yeah! They're awesome… - I forgot how nervous I was before meeting them, they’re nicer then Mikey told me - but are you sure that you're okay?

I took a pack of cigarettes from my purse and lit it up with my red lighter. The twilight was so shining and we were walking together. This should be the best way to finish this day, but Mikey was upset with something, I know him enough to be sure of that.

- Uhum… - He took a drag from the cigarette in my hand - And about bringing Gerard with me the next time I go to your house…

He halted his walking and looked directly at my face. Mikey opened his mouth to start to talk, but I didn't let him.

- Wait… is this about him?

Mikey took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes in anger.

- It's not about HIM, but the way he was talking to you - He sighed and his voice seemed to tear out his throat - And the way Frank talked to you… was just too much, don't ya think?

- Not at all… - I cannot believe that he was jealous. He's not that kind of guy, and why with his friends? - You know that I'm all yours, but I really don't think they're flirting with me or something. We just have a lot in common.

He came closer to me fast and grabbed my hips, narrow enough to make me a bit scared.

- But I think so… - His trembling and insecure voice, combined with a harsh tone I had never heard before, made me swallow hard for fear and concern. - You are so damn naive.

- I- I actually don't think so, Mikey, but-

- You know fucking nothing! - He spoke a little too loudly as he pushed me against the wall, people around us started to steer, but he didn't seem to care.- They WERE being too "friendly" and if you are still saying that they were not, I will start to think that you liked this!

- DUDE! - If he thinks that I'm the kind of person who accepts this kind of thing, he's wrong. - Calm down…

I tried to let go of his arms, but he held even more tight. I could scream for help, however I really love him, and I know we can go back to normal.

- Sorry… - He let me go and scratched the back of his neck nervously - I don't know what happened to my head… I swear, I'm never gonna do this again. Please don't leave me.

He broke in front of me, the anger turned into tears in his face. The desperation in his eyes shocked me and I couldn't react for a few seconds.

- Please say something, babe…

The lost puppy eyes… I couldn't help but compare it to how out of it he was moments ago.

- I'm not gonna leave you, Mikey. - I took a deep breath and held his face. - But, please, talk to me, instead of letting things get this far.

I kissed him softly and he barely reacted.

-I promise…

Mikey’s 1st person POV

I know I promised them that I would leave this alone and talk to them instead of acting that way, but I followed them everywhere. After this day, I couldn't sleep well if I was not sure that I knew exactly where they were.

This probably sounds a bit creepy and obsessive, but I swear, I never.

___________________________________________

~ So... that's it. I TOTALLY would write a pt2 of this.

#mikey way #my chemical romance #mcr #mikey way x reader

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angelofrainfrogs · 6 months

Text

Going Back: Ch. 20

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: Things are looking up for Gregory. After putting the soul of a formerly-immortal killer to rest, he and his new family can finally begin their lives anew. Sure, Gregory might have been cursed with mysterious Remnant in exchange for being involved in this mess—not to mention his caretakers consist of sentient robots and ghosts… But there’s no doubt that the bond they share is unbreakable. They love him, and he in turn.

All in all, life is finally starting to go right for once.

…Unfortunately, true peace is a hard-won battle. There are other things to contend with besides William’s decrepit soul, and Gregory will learn that his role in the lives of the Aftons and Emilys is far greater than anyone could’ve imagined.

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

Michael walked into the Pizzaplex that night with a sense of determination. While scouring the camera footage for the Smiths, he couldn’t help but notice another pattern of odd behavior: Ennard constantly traveling to and from the basement. Normally Michael wouldn’t give this a second thought, but the amalgamation was going there a lot—more so than ever before. The seasoned night guard couldn’t shake the feeling that the animatronic was up to something… and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

Thus, after checking in with Sammy, Michael’s first stop in his rounds was the Daycare. Charlie joined him to check on her “little sister,” though Freddy and Gregory seemed to have other plans and had parted ways on arrival. Mari and Sun were playing as usual, but Ennard was noticeably absent.

“Hey guys!” Mike greeted, though his piercing eyes scanned the room looking for anything amiss. “Where’s the third part of your trio?”

Mari clamped her mouth closed. She knew exactly what Ennard was up to, yet she’d been sworn to secrecy. Sun knew she was a horrible liar, and as the night guard caught them playing tea party Mari raised her pastel plastic cup to her mouth.

“Mikey—” she yipped, speaking into her cup before taking a frantic pretend sip. “—you’re here a little earlier than we expected! Ennard’s… Out? I think they’re in the vents.” Though she sounded unsure, like she was making excuses without really knowing the full extent of what was happening.

“Sun?” Mari asked across the table, lowering her tiny cup to her mismatched saucer. Batting her eyes, she silently asked Sun to help cover for their friend. “Did they tell you were they were heading?”

They may have mentioned something about intercepting Freddy and Gregory on their little adventure to come help them… Not that Mari would know.

“No idea!” Sun said, shaking his head. He mimed Mari’s action of taking a sip of tea, though it was a bit disconcerting when the plastic cup clinked against his wide grin. “I’m sure they’ll be back later! Do you guys want to play a game?!”

“I’ve got to finish my rounds—I’ll check back in a few hours though,” Michael replied, his expression growing even more suspicious. The pair were hiding something, he was sure of it… maybe he could get some insight on the cameras. Turning to leave, he waved over his shoulder: “Maybe Charlie wants to stick around? Or you can come with—I’m fine either way.”

“I have to help Sammy out with some paperwork biz—learning the new job and all that,” Charlie replied with a shrug. She’d love to hang out with all of them, but tonight seemed a little tight schedule-wise.

“I get it…,” Mari sighed out, visibly deflating. “We’ll see you both later.”

“I’ll walk with you to the offices,” Charlie offered, holding out her arm for Michael to hook his through. As they passed the threshold of the Daycare exit, Michael glanced up to a nearby vent.

“Ennard’s up to something,” he answered Charlie’s unspoken question. “When we were looking over the footage last night to get rid of the Smiths, I saw them going back and forth to the basement all night. I thought maybe they were trying to help with the plan, but… they weren’t a part of it.”

Not that he was complaining about that—if Ennard was involved, the Smiths would definitely have perished.

Charlie walked along with Michael, silently soaking in what he was saying. Now she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Being truthful to her best friend was really important to her... yet despite Ennard’s plan being outwardly benign, she wondered if it'd make Mike angrier to tell him now or wait for the reveal as planned?

“Are you sure it’s something bad?” Charlie asked, not quite skeptical, but not jumping to conclusions about Ennard’s intentions. “I’ve seen them talking to Dad a lot lately. Maybe they’re just keeping each other company?”

The look on Mike’s face told Charlie everything she needed to know. He wasn’t going to drop this tonight. Who knows, Charlie thought; Ennard could be halfway through their “plan” by now. After a short sigh, she remarked good-naturedly: “If you’re not going to drop it, I’ll help you investigate.”

Someone had to be there when Mike eventually flipped his shit anyway.

“…Thanks, Charlie.” Michael offered her a little smile, amiably nudging her shoulder with his own. If there was anyone in the world he felt comfortable sharing his concerns with, it was her. With a little sigh, he looked to the vent again. “I’m just worried they’re plotting something. I know Uncle Henry and everyone else in this damn place doesn’t think they’re a threat, but I just can’t trust them. And they’ve been saying some weird, cryptic shit lately and I have no idea what it means, but every time I press them they just make things more confusing…”

He looked to Charlie then, his eyes holding a hint of genuine fear. “I think they might be thinking of trying to get a new body. Like… like how they got mine.”

Charlie had been well aware of this rising tension. With it all laid out in front of her straight from Michael’s anxious thought-train she could easily see how it was causing him a great deal of fear not knowing what Ennard was up to.

“You don't know that for sure, Mike,” she said, walking up the stairs to the main security hub. Sam would be patient with Charlie’s absences and delays, knowing that she was the unofficial babysitter to all the ghosts. “We should try to find their last location on the cameras. Then we’ll go and see what they’ve been doing.”

“Yeah… you’re right,” Michael relented with a nod. He took a seat in the chair, swiveling it 360 degrees before settling in front of the monitors. He flashed a grin over his shoulder, gesturing for Charlie to come closer. “Help me scope them out, will you?”

***

Down below the Pizzaplex where no cameras could be found, Ennard was indeed talking to Henry. They were in the ghost’s workshop, standing around Henry’s latest creation. Gregory and Freddy had been summoned down as well, and the quartet examined the sleeping android with great interest.

“Okay, Ennard, last chance: any more changes, or are you happy with this model?” Henry asked the amalgamation. “I can always alter things later, though it’ll be a more laborious process.”

Gregory, who'd never minded being near Ennard that much, was currently helping them peel away those grimy unwashed carpet samples they wore everywhere. All the while, Ennard meticulously scanned over their newest body to host.

“IT IS M-MORE THAN PERFECT…,” they insisted. As normal as a form as could be without sacrificing too much for some stylistic choices. “THANK YOU ALL FOR HELPING US…”

Ennard commemorated the moment by actually bending to give Gregory a limp hug—knowing they weren’t exactly the cuddliest, but still craving to show appreciation. Patting their arm a bit awkwardly and holding a cable in his free hand, Gregory escorted them to the charging pod.

“Dude, whatever to get my brother to stop worrying about you trying to kill people,” the young programmer said with a friendly shrug. After plugging into a power and datalink outport on Ennard’s arm, Gregory told them: “You’re going to get a restart prompt. Accept it and I’ll begin the download…”

Ennard did so eagerly as Gregory quietly closed the door on the pod. No longer would they have to fear breaking down or becoming the deadly thing they used to be. This was a fresh start for them; a new identity. They closed their eyes, collectively agreeing to transfer over as their power drained into the android on the ground.

“Man I hope this works,” Henry murmured, biting his nails in a rare show of genuine uncertainty.

“It did for myself and Mari,” Freddy pointed out, placing a comforting hand on Henry’s back. His creator needed to understand what a miracle he’d built, to transfer AIs with consciousnesses into bodies that suited them.

“Yes, but we’ve never tried it with multiple animatronics at once…,” the ghost retorted, and Freddy conceded that he was right about that fact. Even so—

“I think it is a success, Henry; look!” With a hushed exclamation, as if afraid to startle their freshly-transferred friend, Freddy pointed to Ennard’s android as it twitched a finger.

Ennard’s face twitched to life, nose scrunching as new sensations with realistic appendages allowed them a full scope of their surroundings. Their audio systems managed to boot up just in time to hear Gregory’s victorious shout.

“IT’S ALIVE!” he proclaimed, excitedly skipping over to examine Ennard a bit closer. “Henry—they’re so cool looking! I like the asymmetrical eyes…”

Ennard swallowed, feeling a bit under the microscope, but not uncomfortably so. The eyes in question—one blue, one a bright hazel bordering on gold—scanned over the room, taking everything in from the new perspective. Unfurling their lanky limbs, they got up from the floor and dusted themselves off. Base model repurposed from one of Henry's previous creations that was no longer needed by its intended host, the mechanic had been happy to add some more height to the limbs and remold the facial prosthetic to custom order.

“Only one thing left to do now…” Ennard’s voice was surprisingly calm and smooth. No stutters or skips in their speech now that everything was new and well-tuned, nor garbled static feedback now that consciousnesses had finally become one (for the most part).

“Firstly, thank you, Henry. I feel much better now.” They worked on rolling their sleeves up and down, trying to find a comfortable middle ground on where they liked the fabric to hang. “Freddy? Will you and Gregory help me find Michael? I’d like to see him now!”

Despite the excitement peeking through their words, Ennard’s face was still rather static—like Mari, there would be a learning curve in learning the finer mechanics of how to use their facial muscles.

“Of course we will!” Freddy replied without hesitation, a huge smile on his face. This was such a wonderful development! He just hoped Michael appreciated it as much as the rest of them.

“Congrats, Ennard—your new life starts now!” Henry laughed, stepping forward now that the android was officially up and running. The ghost moved slowly, not wanting to spook them as they got used to the new sensations. Ennard certainly had the biggest adjustment from his old form—arguably more than Freddy, since there was more than one soul-bonded AI in there that had to get along to make this work. Taking Ennard’s hand, Henry turned it over in his own.

“You look good, but let me know if you have any problems, okay? Also—” His expression became strained and he gave the hand a little squeeze of both reassurance and warning. “—take it easy with Mike. You know we kept this a secret for a reason. He’s… probably still not going to react well, but he’ll get used to it in time.”

“We will be right there with you,” Freddy reassured, reaching up to pat Ennard’s back. Now that the android was upright, Freddy realized he now had some competition in the height department. Of course, nothing like Ennard’s previous form, but that was obviously a feature the bot couldn't bear to part with.

“Yeah, luckily you have plenty of backup,” Henry added, almost feeling like he was sending one of his kids off to a playdate for the first time. “Good luck.”

“We’ll try our best not to frighten him,” Ennard assured. An odd, simulated feeling of being touched rippled through the synthetic nerve endings on their hand. It caused them to flex involuntarily, and Ennard’s mouth pulled up into a lopsided smile.

“Well, would you look at that…,” they marveled, experimentally scrunching their eyebrows while focusing where Henry’s and their palms met. Ennard tested their grip, lightly holding on for a second or so. Then they let go and turned to Gregory and Freddy. “We’ll follow your lead.”

***

Armed with flashlights and their walkie-talkies, Charlie and Mike trekked towards the backrooms. With Mike clearly on edge now that he saw Gregory and Freddy follow Ennard down into the depths of the basement, Charlie resisted the urge to sigh.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” she reminded her scowling friend. “Freddy would be flipping out if Gregory was hurt—Mari too, probably.”

“I know, but…” Michael let out a frustrated sigh. Something was going down that he wasn’t privy to, and it made him extremely antsy. Of course he trusted Freddy to keep Gregory safe, but the former bear was also a bit too amiable for his own good—especially when it came to other animatronics. Ennard had wormed their way into Freddy’s heart since day one, and Michael had a feeling he and Gregory could be coerced by the animatronic to do quite a few things.

As they neared the entrance to the basement, Michael caught sight of movement. He thrust out his arm to stop Charlie in her tracks, narrowing his eyes as he took in the figures. Freddy, Gregory… and an unknown. Tall, with jaggedly cut, soft white hair that trailed down their neck in what could only be described as a random set of layers. Wearing a sort of floaty expression, the person looked around the Pizzaplex with clear fascination in their mismatched eyes.

“Who the fuck is that?” Michael snipped, the hairs in the back of his neck standing on edge.

This was weird. Super weird. Why the hell were they walking around with a stranger?

And why hadn’t Freddy called or texted him about it?

Gregory didn’t seem to take notice of either Charlie or Michael as they ducked behind a corner for quick recon. However, the heterochromatic gaze of the unknown interloper had peered down the narrow hall at the sight of movement.

“So what are you gonna do first as a person?” Gregory asked in a curious manner, taking notes on how Ennard was adjusting to having a real face. Attention was brought back to the boy, they touched a hand underneath their chin in thought.

“I think I should like to try ice cream,” Ennard remarked quietly, attempting to blink in the synchronized way that humans often did. It didn’t come naturally or automatically at first—which was probably why Ennard never saw Mari blink much, either. This didn’t stop a smile from crinkling the corners of their eyes. “Cotton Candy looked like a good flavor to start with…”

Charlie squinted in the darkness, barely able to relate the person walking with their family to the blueprints her father showed her.

“Only one way to find out—” she whispered, content to let Michael hide while she jumped out and called down the hallway. “Fred! Gregory! What are you guys doing?!”

She noticed how the stranger’s glance snapped to her before she even yelled—almost like they knew she was there from the start.

“Charlie! God damn it—” Michael hissed, quick to follow. He grasped Charlie’s hand and gently tugged her to stand behind him. His eyes narrowed at the stranger, taking them in. At first glance, they seemed pretty normal—nothing outwardly amiss from a physical standpoint. However, the more Michael stared the more off they seemed.

The way they swayed ever-so-slightly in place.

The clear excitement spreading across their face as they stared at Michael with that unblinking gaze.

Those mismatched eyes—

“Oh.” The word escaped Michael’s lips in an exhale. His breathing hitched, speeding up as he started to tremble. “Oh… oh no…”

He knew those eyes. Somehow, he just knew there was only one creature that could possibly be behind them. Michael pressed a hand over his mouth as if he was about to be sick.

“Ennard… what did you do?” he asked in a soft voice. Then, Michael’s entire stance shifted to one of absolute rage. “What the fuck did you DO?! WHO IS THAT?!”

Ennard’s shoulders flew up instinctively, shrinking at Mike’s harsh words. Confusion, then some slight offense taken at the accusation formed silently over their face. Though Ennard wasn’t an idiot; they understood exactly why Michael thought they’d hurt someone else…

“It’s me!” Ennard attempted to say, hands up in surrender. “The body’s mine! Please don’t be mad with me, Mike; I just couldn’t stand living in the shadows anymore. I didn’t hurt anyone…”

Gregory stepped forward, standing between them. He still didn't have the full context for why Mike freaked out at the idea of Ennard's new form, but that explanation was absolutely horrible for calming the guard's nerves.

“Ennard’s telling the truth. Watch!” Gregory stressed, turning their latest addition to the android army around and pulling Ennard to kneel at the floor. They seemed obediently pliable to Gregory’s touch, perhaps not wanting to appear resistant for fear of stoking Mike’s ire. Despite any protests Mike may have about the pair making contact, Gregory lifted the flap of skin on the back of Ennard's neck to show a familiar set of input and output ports.

For a moment, all Michael could do was stand there as a wave of rage-filled confusion settled over him. Ennard was now… an android?

“So… that’s just a robot,” Michael said slowly, trying to process everything. He had the strongest desire to wrench Gregory away, but Freddy seemed perfectly content to let his son handle the creature. Well, Michael supposed Ennard wasn’t really a creature anymore. Now they were just as "human" as the rest of them. Michael groaned, raking a stressed hand down his face. “For fuck’s sake, why didn’t you tell me? I thought they’d—I thought someone got hurt.”

“We are sorry we kept it from you, Michael,” Freddy apologized, holding a hand out and helping Ennard to their feet. He then linked their arms together, showing that they truly weren’t a threat. “We planned to reintroduce them with a bit more, ah… tact, but you surprised us.”

Gregory shrugged, looking up to Michael with an honest expression of remorse “I just found out the plan the other day. But I figured you'd be pissed either way. We were still going to tell you.”

Ennard’s eyes and mouth pinched into a smile as they leaned into Freddy, comfortable and happy to be accepted into the group by the friendliest member so far. Though Ennard kept their eyes ahead, gauging Michael’s reaction with cautious hope. “What do you think, Mikey? I don’t have to stay in the vents anymore! ...Right?”

Michael heaved a sigh. Gregory had a point—he’d be upset with anything involving Ennard, that was just a fact. Admittedly, he felt bad putting his family in such an uncomfortable position, but if they knew what he’d been through at the hands of that thing… well, they’d probably be a little more wary. Still, it was clear that Freddy and Gregory were perfectly content with Ennard’s new form. Really, taking a good look at it Michael realized they could do far less potential damage than in their old state.

“No, obviously you don’t have to stay in the vents,” Michael snapped with a bit more venom than he meant. “It’d be even harder to explain why a ‘person’ was crawling around in there.”

Tentatively, Michael stepped closer—not quite within hugging range, but near enough to check out the android in more detail. As usual, Henry’s work was impressive; no one would think the person standing in front of them was anything more than a normal human.

Like Mari, they could stand to blink just a little more. Ennard’s gaze raked over Mike’s face, actually beaming when he told them they could finally come out with the general public (at least, that was the long-term goal). Still inclined to try and get into Michael’s good graces they put out a hand, encroaching into Mike’s personal bubble as they waited to shake on it.

“We’re sorry we didn’t tell you. We were… sort of afraid about your reaction,” they said with some regret. After realizing Michael wasn’t going to touch them, Ennard instead used their hand to brush away pale locks of hair from their face. “We promise to try and be on our best behavior.”

With their tone of voice, it was hard to tell if Ennard was being facetious or mocking. Though judging by their excited shaking in Michael’s presence, they truly meant every word they said.

“I think you should totally still climb around the vents,” Gregory laughed, then looked to Mike. “We had to figure out how to get all their personalities to download. Ennard, if you feel like you’re lagging, tell me; I can get you a better processor.”

Ennard smiled, kneeling down to meet Gregory eye to eye and patting an appreciative palm over his hair. “You’ve helped us a lot already. We’ll take it from here, Gregory.”

“So… what are you going to do now that you look like us?” Michael asked with a raised eyebrow. “Because if you think you’re sticking with me every night that's a definite no—although I’m watching you tonight to make sure you don’t glitch out or something…”

Freddy smiled as Mike took on the role of begrudging babysitter. Clasping just hands behind his back, Freddy peered at Ennard questioningly. “I believe they mentioned something about getting ice cream? Although I know Sun and Mari would love to see the new you, Ennard.”

Ennard was shaking again. Tonight, for the first time in a while, they could hang out alone with Michael. They missed their little one-sided chats, as there was only so much the guy could say after Ennard unintentionally and partially paralyzed the guy’s vocal chords. Then again, their own speech had been stunted for a time, too. Up until recently, Ennard found themselves unable to fully articulate themselves. Maybe tonight would be their chance to explain everything to their friend.

“If you take me to get ice cream, I’ll go right back to the Daycare!” Ennard suggested as a deal. They smirked, wryly holding their arms behind their back, the somewhat unnatural posing making them seem vaguely suspicious. “Mari, Sun, and I can finally hang around in plain sight, too. Won’t that be nice? Especially with the part—”

Ennard stopped themselves, glancing to their shoes and voice cracking as they remembered they couldn’t mention the upcoming festivities. “—time job I’ll be applying for in the Pizzaplex.”

“Okay… okay fine,” Michael sighed, looking around the expectant crew. He was still annoyed at the turn this night had taken, but at least Ennard was a familiar threat unlike the Smiths. If Ennard acted up, Michael could deal with it easily. “We get you some ice cream and then I drop you off at the Daycare because I have to do some work tonight.”

The schedule wasn’t up for debate. Stomping a little harder than usual, Michael began walking towards Bonnie Bowl where the ice cream parlor was. As he passed by Ennard he grabbed one of their arms and dragged them along, getting out some of his frustration with this simple action. “Let’s go.”

The others waved them off, Charlie whispering to Freddy with some concern in her voice. “How long do you think before Mike tries to dismantle them?”

To Ennard, Michael’s tough grip on their arm only came off as assertively friendly. Tugged forward and made unsteady by the sudden upkeep in their pace, Ennard eventually latched an arm around Mike's in return. Ennard could keep a better reign on him like this anyway; there were important things to discuss before the guard could slip away.

Instead of going straight for the tough topics, Ennard asked in an upbeat attitude: “What’s your favorite ice cream, Mikey?”

After all, in case they turned out to hate cotton candy, Ennard wanted a backup. Meanwhile, Michael’s phone buzzed, the family group chat going off with an alert from Charlie.

so does anyone else think Ennard looks a little like David Bowie now??? or is it just me?

“Huh?” Michael was currently distracted by checking his phone with one hand while trying not to shove Ennard away from where they clung. As he read Charlie’s comment he paused, holding Ennard still for a moment while he looked them up and down.

“Oh my god… she’s so right,” he muttered, unhooking his arm so he could type back his agreement. Only after slipping the phone back in his pocket did he fully register Ennard’s question.

“My favorite ice cream?” Michael’s brow furrowed, trying to remember. “Um… chocolate, I think.”

A wistful smile crossed his face as he recalled trips to the ice cream parlor with Lizzie and Evan. Cotton candy was his sister’s favorite and it’d grown on him over the years as a close second, too. With a raised eyebrow, he addressed Ennard again. “Why? Trying to figure out what you’d like?”

Ennard smiled, dimples forming in their cheeks as they answered Michael back. “I remember when they sold it at the restaurant. I always wanted to try the cotton candy flavored one... I’ll try all of them eventually.”

Ennard was pretty giddy and unable to hide it with their incessant fidgeting. They missed their more fluid state, being able to spill through small areas and change their shape to will. Though Ennard saw this as a fair trade off; a small price to pay to be able to walk freely amongst the living. Entering the parlor, Ennard broke away from Michael to go look at the flavors protected under a case. There, they tapped the glass with enthusiasm and almost psychotic happiness.

Michael watched Ennard curiously as they ran through the bowling area. They were forced to move completely differently in this new body, yet somehow it was clear they were still Ennard. When they frantically started tapping on the glass, Michael gave a resigned sigh and went behind the counter. The usual service bots were turned off for the night to conserve power and Bonnie was MIA, so there was no one around to serve ice cream but the two of them.

“Cone or cup—you know what, never mind,” Michael said, realizing that since Ennard had never actually eaten before, the less messy he could make this the better. Flipping up the plastic covering to the freezer, Michael grabbed a nearby ice cream scoop and rolled one ball of cotton candy up, soon placing it in a little paper cup. With the added touch of a plastic spoon, he reached over the counter to hand it to fresh android. “You’ve seen people eat, but in case you need a refresher you pick up the spoon, get a little ice cream on it, put it in your mouth, then swallow it. Don’t just… let it sit there. Got it?”

Ennard gratefully took the little dish. Firstly, they could already kind of smell the frozen treat, which was a new sensation they were still getting used to. It wasn't anything they could compare to before, as their functionality in their designs never involved the need for aromatic sensors. Despite the cool, air conditioned parlor's climate control, the ice cream beaded up slightly before they even got a chance to try it. So with eyes wide and unwilling to waste the frozen treat that Mike so nicely procured for them, they began their feast.

To no surprise, Ennard didn't eat ice cream like a normal person either. The bit the sweet, sectioning off a large chunk in their mouth and chewing as if it were mostly solid. Ennard found the flavor to be above excellent—with a thankfully soft texture. When they swallowed the first taste, it looked as though they just recently had an epiphany.

“We didn't expect ice cream to be this... wet. That's strange,” they remarked with an easygoing smile. “It's good, though!”

Michael had been staring at Ennard with a look of mild concern as they figured out how to handle the sweet. Of course they ate it like a weirdo—though Mike really hadn’t expected anything less. At least they took his advice with regards to how to get the food to stay in their system.

“Uh… yeah,” Mike responded, his brain trying to process that this “person” in front of him was the same thing that’d so brutally murdered him all those years ago. His lip curled slightly at the odd description. Ennard was still a little crazy, that’s for sure. But they were also, if one squinted... maybe a little nice?

Mike didn’t know if this was just some latent shock from the body transfer, Ennard trying to win his favor with good behavior, or if this was just… them, finally coalesced into one being.

The guard had to remind himself that Ennard didn’t start out being the stalking, psychotic abomination that tore him to shreds. It’d been a combination of latent Remnant and abuse from the technicians that sparked their desire to be free—not to mention the influence of children’s souls that left an invisible but potent residue.

Did this mean Mike would suddenly forgive them now that they could start acting more like a human?

Of course not. But maybe he didn’t have to be so aggressive all the time.

Grabbing a tiny white tasting spoon, he opened the ice cream case again and got a sampling of chocolate, which he held out over the counter. “Here—try this next.”

Excite by Michael's sudden willingness to share, Ennard smiled with teeth that seemed just a little too pointed to be considered natural. Another personal design choice—a trait that the robot collective simply could not part with. Instead of taking the tiny testing spoon, Ennard leaned their tall, wiry frame over the top of the counter and stick their mouth at the end of the spoon. When they pulled back, there were gnawing marks on the plastic utensil.

“That's chocolate?! Man, have we been missing out!” It was incredible, nearly indescribable with the happiness it provided.

“Ugh!” Michael reeled back, face twisted in surprised disgust. Trust Ennard to do something freaky just when Michael was kind of starting to get used to them. “Don’t do that! If someone hands you something, you take it.”

God, he’d have to teach Ennard a lot more about being human than he initially thought. Well, no—Charlie was going to help. He was not about to spend every waking moment with this thing by his side.

“Also—” Michael narrowed his eyes, having noticed the strangeness of their teeth. “—I’ve got to know: how much of… this—” He gestured from top to bottom of Ennard’s new android. “—was your choice and how much was Henry’s?”

Ennard was wholly nonplussed by Michael's reaction to them. After all, it wasn't anything far from their normal interactions. They were just happy to hang out and answer Michael's questions; finally, they could converse uninterrupted and with a clear voice box.

“A considerable amount! The hair, eyes, skin... Henry would ask our opinion on things, and then we’d tell him exactly the direction to take.” Ennard tilted their head. “Do you like it? I think it's an improvement. More... approachable this way now. I'd like to start being a people's person.”

“It’s, uh… different, that’s for sure,” Michael, roaming over Ennard’s features with a critical eye. Still, he had to concede— “Not nearly as freaky as your old form, so at least you’ve got that going for you.”

With a little sigh, Michael slouched forward and leaned his arms on the countertop.

“Look… you just make me nervous, Ennard,” Michael admitted in a serious tone. “I just can’t trust you after what you and Liz did to me—I mean, that was literally life-altering.” He grimaced, staring towards the floor though his vision was far off in the past. “I… I know why you did it—at least, I think I do—and I’m… sorry you were made that way. But I can’t risk you hurting someone else, and even if your body is different you’re still you.”

Finally, Michael’s heavy gaze lifted to the robot’s once more. “Your original purpose was to capture and kill children. How do I know you don’t still have those urges?”

Now that their body and its functions had changed, Ennard couldn't help but hide how hurt they looked when Michael told them this. Their fun ice cream time came to a halt fast at the guard's confession.

“We knew this was coming...” With a frown and a stare that met the floor tiles, Ennard sighed, self-soothing by rubbing their arms. “Mike... We get it. You can forgive your sister because... she's your sister.” It was an understanding approach that also called out the hypocrisy they saw at the same time. “And we get that you still don't fully trust us. We don't think we could trust us very fast either.”

Then, their mismatched eyes found the courage to look up to Michael, trying to put their thoughts together. It didn't take long, Ennard's hands gently coming now to rest on the glass of the counter. “We're in a different body now—the old models, it... it was a compulsion to capture kids whether we wanted to or not. We most certainly didn't want to kill children.”

Ennard's line of sight almost looked sharp for a moment, as if Mike’s implication that they’d collectively transferred to a new body simply to kill more was going to set them off. However, Ennard had more self-control than that. The feeling faded as fast as it appeared, no more than a twitch across their face.

“Circus Baby may be gone, but we remember that day... What she felt when your sister came to play with her. She never wanted to perform again after that. It was why he put in those remote controlled shocks...,” Ennard explained, the trauma of speaking about such a thing making their face scrunch in a flinch at the memories.

Mike was waiting for the pin to drop. Watching Ennard with a hawk-eyed gaze, he searched for any sign of deceit in their manner or tone. They’d lied before, and they could do it again.

But, to Michael’s surprise… it honestly seemed like they were telling the truth. If their compulsion to do harm was tied to their physical form, it made sense that getting a new one would essentially eradicate the issue. And they really did sound regretful…

The guard chewed his bottom lip in deep contemplation. Then, slowly, he reached out a hand.

“…Alright,” he said in a strained voice. Never did he think he’d be having this conversation, let alone saying what he was about to. “Fine. I’m calling a truce—for now. You take it easy around new people until you get a handle on acting more human, and I’ll… try to work through some of my own stuff. Deal?”

Whatever Ennard felt for Michael, it certainly wasn't hate. Not long after they started inhabiting his body did they realize that they scooped the wrong man. Their disdain for the technician soon twisted; Michael felt comfortable and familiar to Ennard in a world full of things they didn't understand—but they understood him enough.

Ennard's expression softened, and they moved carefully not to scare the person they considered a friend. Their fingers wrapped gently around Mike's, shaking it as if the man would fall apart at their touch.

“I'll make myself scarce; don't worry,” Ennard said, deciding to try mimicking Michael's blinking pattern. Fourteen times a minute was what they could calculate in their head, and a genuine smile crossed their face. “Please, come by the Daycare whenever you want. Feel free to shout at me, too; I know it makes you happy.”

“What?” Michael quirked a confused eyebrow. “I don't yell at you because I enjoy it—I do it because you annoy the shit out of me!” He pulled his hand back—gently, he was going to try and be gentle—and used it to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I meant what I said when I’d keep an eye on you for the immediate future,” Michael said after a moment, glancing down to make sure all the ice cream fixings were put away. “Besides, Mari basically lives at the Daycare too, so I have to stop by anyway.”

Walking around the counter, Michael gestured for Ennard to follow him. “Speaking of, I’ve got to take you there so I can get back to the office. If you want more food, ask Freddy to bring you a pizza or something—wait.”

Michael stopped in his tracks, a sudden thought occurring that made him glance side-long at the lanky android. “Does Sam know about this? And if so, has he met the new you? I don’t want him running into you and flipping his shit because he thinks another stranger got in…”

Touching their hands to their chest, bunching up their clothes in the process, Ennard claimed: “Sam helped put this all together! Oh, I can't wait for Sun, Moon, and Mari to see me. Their processors are going to explode when they see my... Glow up.”

Ennard shut their eyes, envisioning the praise they’d receive.

“…Of course Sam knows,” Michael muttered with a twinge of annoyance, abruptly starting forward again. He knew Ennard would follow, so he felt no need to check behind him for proof. He rolled his eyes at Ennard’s comment, then lapsed into silence as they moved swiftly to the Daycare. The lights were bright overhead as they entered, and Michael heard the faint jingling of bells.

“Sun? Mari? I’ve got a—”

Gift? Surprise?

“—a something for you!” Michael called from near the entrance to the slide.

“Ooh! What is it, what is it?!” Sun exclaimed, rushing to the edge of the ball pit. Mari was on his shoulders to see better, holding on tight as Sun wriggled excitedly. Spotting the tall figure trailing behind the guard, he let out a gasp. “New friend?!”

Ennard followed on Mike's heels, close but not close enough to touch him and acutely aware of when he stopped and turned. Once inside the Daycare, Mari came rolling out from underneath an arch of stacked cans, rushing to the attendant. She remained wary of the newcomer, sticking to Sun's side like glue as Mike introduced the something that just walked through those doors.

“Wrong!” Ennard shouted, arms open wide and giddy with the reveal of the surprise he had for them. “Old friend! It's us—it’s Ennard!”

“OH MY GOSH! You look incredible!” Mari shrieked, running full speed and slamming into them with such force they knocked out the wind Ennard wasn't aware that they had.

“Oh wow!” Sun cheered, bouncing excitedly while he waited for Mari to finish her greeting. Ennard was only released for a few seconds before Sun scooped them up in a bear hug and swung them like a doll.

“You’re so light, friend!” the Daycare attendant laughed, holding the android out by the shoulders to get a good look at them. “And look at you—amazing! Everything suits you so well… Do you love it?!”

Michael hung back near the door, a little smile on his face as he watched. It was clear that Mari and Sun loved Ennard despite their eccentricities, and Mike was just glad the former amalgamation had someone besides him to entertain them.

Ennard laughed; Sun's insistence on hugging left them in a vulnerable position. Now that they were free from the confines of their slowly deteriorating body, Sun was the strongest robot in the Daycare. Denying him his daily intake of affection was not an option—though Ennard always seemed happy to revel in it.

“I'm not light! You're just strong!” Ennard laughed out.

Mari excitedly downloaded this new face for her security profile. Waving to Michael, she bounced on over to quietly ask him: “You're okay with all of this? I know how you feel about them.”

She was mildly concerned for Michael's safety, as he and Charlie's conversations did not go unnoticed by the suppressed Puppet inside. She was well aware of the things that Ennard did. While there was hardly a chance of relapse now that Ennard finally had a body to truly call their own, it may not always be 100% safe to trust them...

“We made an arrangement—we’re both going to try and… chill out in our own respects,” Michael said cryptically. He reached forward to ruffle Mari’s curly hair.

“Mike!” Sun exclaimed, rushing over to him and dragging Ennard along by the hand. “Ennard says they’re staying in the Daycare—is that true?!”

“Yup.” Michael nodded. “I’m asking you guys a big favor: watch over them for me when I’m not here, okay? Especially Mari—I’m sure you’ll be a big help with the whole android thing.”

“Yaaaaaaay!” Sun cheered, releasing Ennard so he could clap his hands together. “You get to live with us now—it’ll be like a permanent slumber party! Ooh, I’m so excited!”

What Michael didn’t know was Ennard’s gradual, long-term plan. When they figured out how to blend into society better, they would eventually follow the new family home, perhaps taking up residence in the attic (provided they were in a house, of course). But for now, Ennard was more than happy to kick it in the Daycare with all his new friends.

“We can even help out on Monday when everything opens up again! But… just for moral support. We shouldn’t actually be seen yet…,” Ennard said, as a part of their little verbal agreement.

Mari jumped excitedly, tugging on Michael's sleeve. “You can count on us! I’m so good at watching things! And Ennard’s the most watchable thing I know.”

Whatever that meant. Perhaps Mari meant that she found the animatronic interesting to be around—which certainly wasn’t a lie. Despite Ennard’s smile, they tilted their head in a confused way.

“Thanks, Mari?” they said with a pleasant uncertainty.

“This is going to be so fun!” Sun exclaimed, reaching forward to give Michael a hug as well.

“Oof—yeah, yeah, glad to hear it,” Michael murmured, wiggling a bit until he was set back down. His eyes roamed over the trio once more before he gave a satisfied nod. “Okay, well, I've gotta go back to work—I told Ennard I'd come by later to check on you guys, though. Any problems, just wave at one of the cameras and I'll see you.”

“Will do, Michael!” Sun replied with a vigorous nod. “Try not to work too hard!”

“No promises.” The guard flashed a grin, then after a final lingering narrowed-eyed gaze turned to leave. “Be good, you three.”

“Best behavior,” Ennard murmured, echoing their promise from earlier with a strategic hand over their heart.

Left to their own devices, the Daycare staff buzzed to finally have a coherent conversation with Ennard. Sure, Ennard and Mari were stunted in their social norms, but luckily Sun was patient—an excellent teacher to help them find some semblance of normalcy.

***

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