#realizing. Oh. that’s why she’s like that

[luveline]

JADEEEE i'd love to see an interaction between hotch and teacher!reader outside of school? maybe jack sees her first and step away from hotch for a moment to say hi, hotch gets scared when he realizes jack left but reader comes with him just a moment later because she's panicking too like 'why are you alone? where's your dad?' and jack takes her to him. is that ok??? i hope so! love you <3333

I love you ty for your request! —Hotch flirts with Jack’s favourite teacher, because he’s never as subtle as he should be. fem, 2k

Jack reads a couple of books a week now his dad is home more often. His mom used to read to him some because he loves them, but she preferred to tell her own on the fly. His dad isn’t as good a story teller, and when he does try the stories don’t end up very happy, so they read. Sometimes two or three books a night if they're short ones. 

With Jack’s library card they can borrow ten books. With his dad’s, another ten. Twenty altogether, enough to last the month if they’re careful or if dad gets called away a lot, which he usually does. 

“Can I look for Super Pup?” Jack asks his dad. 

Aaron sits on a chair a little too small for him in the kids section. “What?” he asks, looking up from the back of the large picture book Jack’s just handed him. 

“Super Pup?” 

“I’ll help, buddy.” Hotch looks like he’s going to stand, then hesitates. “In a second. Don’t go where I can’t see you, Jackers.” 

Hotch is tired. He didn’t come home until very late, but he’d woken Aunt Jess anyway and, when Jack woke, there his dad was sleeping in the beanbag by his bed. He’s sore all over now and exhausted from a restless night. Jack feels sorry, as much as he can for being six nearly seven, but he also knows that his dad doesn’t mind the hurting. It was nice to wake up together after a few days apart. 

And now he’s brought him to the library, and after that they’ll go for groceries. Jack should be quick. If they get home before dinner time his dad will ask him if he wants to nap together, which is the best. They just lay there in the big bed with the fan on and snooze until it’s too late to cook, so his dad breaks out the takeout menus, and promises he won’t do it again with a quick hug from behind. 

As though it makes him a terrible parent for feeding his kid. Jack can’t know how guilty it makes Hotch feel to do it, and Hotch doesn’t seem to notice how much Jack loves these days where his dad is exhausted and totally his. 

Jack runs around looking for Super Pup. Hotch’s phone beeps in his pocket, and he fights to keep his eyes open.

A ways away, you browse the fiction section in a crouch, knees somehow totally under your skirt, flicking aside spines of skinny books for something you can read at lunch time. Something that doesn’t require much attention, and could be read in short intervals. You used to demand a half hour to yourself when you first started teaching, but that was before the lonely kids started cropping up. Kids with no friends, or sad smiles, who want company and quiet alike. 

You reach for a pink-spined Japanese translation as a little hand pats your elbow. You’re so used to kids you say, “What’s up?” before you remember you aren’t at work. 

You turn in your crouch to look behind you. “Oh, hi, Jack! What are you doing here?” 

“Me and dad are looking for books.” 

You smile at him genuinely, happy to see your favourite student, even if you’re terrified on the inside at the prospect of his father. He’s the most gentlemanly man you’ve ever met. He’s arduous in how respectful he is, he’s understanding, and he’s tall, dark, and handsome. It is a chilling collection of traits. You stumble whenever you have to talk to him. 

But Jack is easy. You and Jack talk every day. “What sorts of books? Just for fun?” 

“I want to read Super Pup.” 

The kids love Super Pup and his magic bark. You stand promptly, suddenly much taller than Jack as you brush down your skirt. “Wait,” you say. Mr. Hotchner gets called away for work all the time, but he wouldn’t leave Jack alone, would he? “Where’s your dad? You’re not by yourself, are you?” 

Jack laughs. “No! I’m looking for Super Pup! Dad’s tired.” 

You can’t decipher exactly what those two things have to do with each other, but you can guess how panicked his dad will be to find Jack so far from the kid’s section. Fiction is the other side of the library. “How did you end up over here?” You offer your hand. “Should we go back and find your dad?” 

“I saw your skirt, Miss L/N. I like the flowers.”

He takes your hand, clumsy to your gentleness. “Thanks, honey. Let’s go find dad before he calls his scary friends and has your name on the news.” 

You get to the kids section slowly. Endearingly so, but nerve-wracking, too, because Mr. Hotchner can be intimidating. Jack likes holding your hand, you think, clinging to your fingers as he guides you across the library, past the staircase down to the first floor, and back to the kids section. 

“Jack?” Mr. Hotchner asks loudly, turned away from you both near the graphic novel selection. “Jack.” 

“Mr. Hotchner,” you say. 

“Dad!” 

He spins on his heel. His shoulders relax noticeably, but the stress in his gaze remains. 

“Jack, I said stay where I can see you,” he says, not half as scolding as he could be as Jack lets go of your hand and runs to his legs, where he stops. “Please, buddy. You gotta listen to me.” 

Jack turns between you and his dad with a smile, “But look, it’s Miss L/N.” 

“I can see,” he says softly. 

Mr. Hotchner leans down, taking Jack up into his arms with impressive ease, and begins the walk to you where you’ve stayed. 

“I hope he didn’t interrupt you,” he says. 

“Please,” you say, “he’s my favourite. Just–” You wince. “Don’t tell anybody at school I said that, Jack. Please.” 

“I think we can keep this secret,” Mr. Hotchner says. 

“He was just telling me that you’re looking for Super Pup. If you don’t find it, we have copies at the school library. And we can always order you one.” 

Mr. Hotchner gives you a small, and what you know to be rare, smile. “I don’t think he even looked.” 

“I did look!” Jack disagrees, though his disagreement barely has any attitude to it, a credit to his upbringing. 

“You clearly weren’t looking in the right place.” 

“I was too. How would you know, you were sleeping!” 

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Mr. Hotchner says to you. 

You tuck your hands behind your back. “It’s okay, Mr. Hotchner, I believe you. In my classroom we like to say we’re resting our eyes.” 

“Aaron,” he says, as he says whenever you speak to each other, and as you always forget to call him. Not a demand but a suggestion you’d swear to be bordering affectionate. 

You’ve been Jack’s teacher for two months this year, and almost the entire year previously. In the summer when they leave, you’ll find out if you’re moving up a grade with him, but until then, you’ve made the most of such a nice kid, and you aren’t shy to tell that to Aaron. You don’t mind that Jack spends his lunch time with you. He embodies all of the reasons that pushed you to become a teacher in the first place. 

And his father is a good reason to stay. He’s one of the only nice (hot) dads. 

You do worry often that he can read your expression. His lips have quirked into a bemused smile, what’s so funny? He’s terrifying. 

“Aaron,” you rush to say, and fill the silence you’ve made, “It’s nice to see you.” 

“It’s nice to see you, too. You’ll see me on Monday, so you’ll be sick of me by Tuesday.” 

You rock ever so gently on your heels. “You aren’t working.” 

“It’s Jack’s birthday.” 

You nod, pleased. “I know! I know, we already talked about what cupcakes he wants, didn’t we? Everybody’s gonna have rainbow sprinkle, and for a treat we’re going to watch a movie before lunch.” 

“Do you do that for every kid?” 

“I do.” 

“How do you afford it?” He lowers his gaze. “I just mean, it’s expensive to do that for every birthday.” 

“Luckily for me and unluckily for the kids, quite a few of them have birthdays outside of term time. Thirty students is three trays of ten, and that doesn’t usually break the bank, even if things get tight. But… I don’t know, I guess I just have to make room when it does. It’s special to feel special, and,” —you smile, exuberant and a little shy at once, clutching your elbow in your hand— “Jack always makes everybody else feel special. ” 

The boy in question turns into his fathers chest, pleased beyond words. 

Aaron gives you a long, long look. “Thank you,” he says. 

“Oh, you’re welcome.” 

You say goodbye to Aaron and Jack and wish them both a good weekend, which you spend wondering what the pressure of Aaron’s hand would be like on your shoulder, and if you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking about it at all. He seems like he’d give a good hug. You catch yourself picturing him opening a door and ban yourself from thinking of him at all. 

Monday morning, you stand at the door ushering your students inside, and you can’t help beaming when Jack and Aaron arrive. 

“Aw, Jack, where’s your birthday badge?” you ask, fall air nipping your nose. 

“He was feeling too shy,” Aaron says. He’s in casual dress again. Some men should be banned from half-zips, it’s inhumane. 

“You were?” You bend just a bit, hand in your pocket. “Well, I thought you might be, so I brought my badge from home. It’s super shiny, bud. What do you think?” 

You show Jack the badge, It’s My Birthday in silver against a rainbow backdrop. 

Maybe it was silly to bring, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t want to wear one, and maybe he should. He deserves for all his friends to give him some attention, and to have them fight over who gets to sit with him at lunch. 

“We have something for you,” Jack says. 

You stand straight. “You do?” 

Aaron hadn’t been expecting to be the one to give it to you, that much is obvious. He hesitates for a second before he passes you a small brown box, the top of which is made up of four leaves folded into a dome. You have an inkling of what it might me. 

“Thank you… Can I open it now?” you ask. 

“I think you should wait for lunch,” Aaron says. 

You raise your eyebrows but abide by his suggestion, murmuring another thank you as Aaron bends to give Jack a hug. “Have a good day. I’ll be here to pick you up, I promise,” he says.

It’s a great day. The kids are excited for cupcakes and overjoyed to get them before lunch. Not a crumb goes uneaten, and as they all sing for Jack with his borrowed badge, he’s actually happy for the attention. He doesn’t eat with you at lunch, which is a great thing even if you love his company. 

Alone, you fold back the leaves of your mysterious box and smile like an idiot when you confirm what’s inside. A cupcake slightly more sophisticated than rainbow sprinkle spreads icing across the brown carrier, and a business card leans against the other side. 

The front of the card is as you’d expected it to be spelling out Aaron’s contact details from work, and you combust thinking he wants you to call him, but it’s the back that you’d been meant to see. You read it as you fold down the leaves of the cupcake carrier, 

Thirty students, three trays of ten. What does that leave for you? —Aaron. 

Flirt, you think firmly, happily. He’s such a flirt. 

[atyourmerci]

To think I’d know it all

Therapist!ellie (read pt.1 here)

X

CW: smut, MDNI, dom!ellie, sub!reader, power imbalance don’t fuck your therapist, talks of degradation, lots of praise, Ellie watches r! masturbate, thigh riding, no y/n, no pdor

A/N: this is for @catfern if she likes it I die happy. Sorry this took so long I got a little overzealous, yet still it feels rushed so I’m dropping this and disappearing! I promise I’ll be going back to working on reqs now.

X

You think you know yourself, your highs, desires, triggers, your inner most depravities. but you don’t. Maybe it wasn’t your fault- the bliss that came from blatant ignorance so bitter sweet on your tongue. So comfortable in your own escaped reality, why would you try to face it now?

Half of the time you were lying to Dr. Williams. A white lie here, slipping through the cracks of reality by omitting the truth there. It’s not like she couldn’t read you like a book- she knew everything. Things you had never thought of, mysteries to you, solved in seconds by her.

You never gave her much of your true issues, deadbeat mommy leaving you at six for her new boyfriend that could be your brother. Never feeling academically competent, body issues, all the bullshit troubles any girl could dream of beating herself down over.

Thats what you told yourself she knew, the surface, pretty, palpable, easy to swallow, desirable.

But Ellie didn’t want palpable, she craved the chaos of your destruction. She wanted to watch the rage play out, dangerously close to her integrity. She wanted to pull the dirty guts out to feast on. Every last piece of you, torn out, then you would be easy enough to swallow for her.

-

The air only grew thicker. Suffocating your windpipes to choke on, making sure you felt every particle of desperation.

The session after she had cancelled. You thought she’d keep this up, realizing she had taken it too far, falling into her desires you had coaxed her into.

But yet there you were, back in your usual seat, legs crossed, throat dry as it eats at the hot pressure in the air. The buzz of a ring in your ear as you sit there silently. To talk of it, to progress, to regress back into the unknown- the lies, the omissions.

Would she guide you- like she did last time? would she make you do it yourself, pathetic and begging, longing for the validation that she did it for herself, even if only for a little bit.

“How have you been?” A formality, a principle, a greeting. She had to say it- what would she say outside the four walls of this prison?

“Alright,” came out as an unwanted sigh, subconscious as your body tells the truth before you can cut it off at the source.

“No witty comeback? did something happen with the girl?” Ellie furrows her brows at your change of body language. She takes note of how closed off it is, not desiring of visitors. You watch as the veins in her muscles twitch in her tank. rid of the cover of her modest blazer, shoulders now under the impression of your gaze.

“I stopped seeing her, Im seeing an ex,” you didn’t have to say that, could have left it at the end of your farce of a hookup ending. But this time it wasn’t a lie, you truly were fucking that cunt.

“Oh. Anything serious?” Ellie tenses, eager to unpack the dichotomy of the new woman. Why did you start seeing your ex again, what was she tied to, what did you have to gain from anyone but her?

“Just sex.” you shrug off. This was the truth.

“What drove you back to her specifically?” Ellie goes to write it down but once again find herself unable to find the words- lost in the craving the understanding of your mind selfishly.

“Comfortability- is that what you want to hear?” you taunt her, driving your eyes into a squint. What was her motive- what was your own?

“Well something in particular brought you back to her, no?” she pries, not letting you take control of the conversation. If she had to drag it out of you herself she would.

“She knows how I like it,” your attempt at intimidation, confidence in your own pleasure. Nothing but another beautiful farce covered in thorns. A hint of a smirk paints the doctor’s lips, mean and tortured.

‘Oh you think you know yourself so well you beautiful fool’ Ellie thinks to herself. You wouldn’t know satisfaction if it hit you in the face, but she was to help you- that was her job right? “And what is it…that you like?” Shrinking her face into a scowl, head tilted to the side, watching how your body twitches at nothing. How pliable could she diminish you to without touching you- she couldn’t, of course.

“She gets rough with me,” so knowing, as if you were breed for it. A toy of sorts, helpless under the hands of a predator.

“What entails rough?” Ellie probes, getting her scalpel out, ready to dissect your oblivion. Her flesh scorching with fervor as she coaxes more out of you. She had found her vessel.

“I dunno… hitting, tying me up, stuff of that nature.”

“What else?” You’d never know how eager she was, calm in her disposition, from what the eye can make out. Inside she pulses, her mind eating away at itself. To bite is still to touch- Instinctual and destructive. A morbid curiosity to drown herself in, held at the bottom of your mind with the weights of her own scrutiny.

“You wanna know that she calls me a fuckin’ whore?”

“Why do you think you like the degradation?” Ellie shifts forward, getting to the edge of her seat, splaying her forearms onto her thighs. A pissing contest, cruel and depraved.

“Probably my godforsaken mother- what are you get-“ you begin to question before you’re interrupted.

“Good girl.” Ellie coos, shifting her weight back into the seat, her forearms resting on the armrests as her legs are lazily parted. A test she knew she’d win- she knew you best didn’t she? Playing you like a puppet, taking matters into her own hands, unethical as it may be.

So abrupt you’re taken out of a haze. An uncalculated whine coming out of your throat, you attempt to cover it with a halfass cough but the damage was done- you were caught. Ellie just watches as you squirm, skin growing hot as she watches you knowingly, smug and cunning as you tip toe the ledge. “w-what?”

Ellie’s grin only widens, “that was a fair assumption, aware… you’re doing so well already.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks, fire blazing in your chest ready to burst into ashes laid out like puzzle pieces neatly for her. A new sensation, uncharted and dense. Immensely ridged to obtain- the feeling of worth, accomplishment at its peak. Would you ever be able to fulfill the demand?

Ignore it, lie, get out of it.

“I like getting when she treats me like shit- gets me off…” you attempt, eyes casted downwards to your sweaty palms soaked from the heat of the air.

“No you don’t.”

“How would you know,” you laugh her off. You’ve built your wall, so high that not even you could see over it.

“Sure you want to be told what to do. But you also want to be acknowledged for your work. How pretty you look opened up. How good you are for taking more, taken whats asked of you. Don’t you?” Ellie doesn’t skip a beat, like shes rehearsed it, dwelled on your inner most necessities. The doctor asks but you both know it’s not a question, rather an admission of verity.

“Doctor Williams, please-“ the impending doom of your fate- the tip of the iceberg chiseling down each second. A ticking time bomb sure to go off. Your body pulses, heart racing. How much more could you take?

“It’s okay…tell me whats wrong” Ellie coos doe eyed, so forgiving in a breeding ground for destruction. A flower blooming in the midst of a tornado. To talk, to proceed, to regress.

“I cant control myself- listening to you…like that,” fist turning white grappling onto the armrests, breath shaky and wavering. Your hips subconsciously rocking into the thick leather of the doctor’s chair- a taste of salvation at any cost.

“Be a good girl and show me the mess you made on my seat,” a reckless invitation- one with grave consequences. Nonetheless too sweet not to bite, sink her teeth into and rip the flesh.

Shameful, degrading enticement. Shaky hands grasping the button of your jeans. How much time did you have left? What if someone walks in? Both your jeans and panties come off in one fowl swoop- fallen to the warm carpet on her floor. You wince as the naked, seeping flesh of your cunt reaches the leather, “Fuck.”

Ellie just watches, amused, stone faced as she understands the specimen. The way you hips rut without you letting them says more than your words, “Give yourself what you need.”

Your body comes back into consciousness with the approval for more. Give her whats shes asked of you. Nimble fingers beginning to circle the swell of your clit- the reoccurring ache of disappointment- the fate of inadequacy.

“Atta girl- just like that. Does it feel good?” the doctor mutters so sweetly- so proud of her specimen. She knew you needed it- the approval, the praise of accomplishment.

Your breath shortens and you pulse around nothing. Driving aimless circles around the bud as your head cocks back. Your cunt begs of her, pleads to be full of her- if shed ever let you have it. “n-need you, please Ellie.”

The doctor had never heard you speak of her name. Too casual for barriers, too comfortable for the tension. Something in her own mind switches at the words- the way they rolled off your tongue like you had said it many times before. Where had you said it, to whom? If not anyone at all. “I cant help you…but I cant stop you from helping yourself.”

Lust was a sin, but gluttony was a mere punishment. Overzealous in nature, depraved and lawless in practice. A reckless invitation- one with grave consequences. A walk of shame, magnets finding their match. She had made your bed, you were to lie in it.

Ellies hands on her armrest, sure to not budge- to uphold her ethics, principles responsible of her own will. She lets you climb her body, mount yourself up top her lap, positioning your cunt on her thigh.

The air. Thick, all consuming- so close, breathing her air, the breath of someone wiser, more understanding of your own mind. What a dangerous game, everything you need right there, yet taboo to drain every last bit of her. An inch given, a mile lacking. She keeps her eyes trained on you, her subject in testing.

“It’s okay, fuck yourself on me. You’ve been so good.” letting your cunt rake up and down the scratchy fabric of her slacks, hands pinned behind your back on your own accord.

The bubble in your stomach already ready to overflow, choking back whimpers drown in by your teeth. She made it so easy- she didn’t even have to fucking touch you.

“Let go. Let yourself come,” the doctor demands, she knew what you were doing. Ellie didn’t care how pathetic it was.

“I can-t not, not yet,” sweat dripping down your flustered face as your sticky white slick coats her covered thigh. The sight was so vulgar in Ellie’s eyes, watching you panting as you fuck yourself on her thigh. Thoughts of what she’d do in another world without laws.

“Do what you’re told.”

[meangirls-imagines]

My Girl

Description: Regina is possessive over what's hers.

WARNINGS: fluffy, dom/sub vibes, possessive Regina, she's soft for reader, reader is obsessed with Regina

Sorry it's so short :(

Y/N walked into school, headphones in and hood up. It was a rainy day at North Shore High School so almost everyone spent lunch and off periods in the cafeteria.

Y/N was one of the lucky ones to have an off period to start their day. She went to sit at a table and wait for the bell to ring. As she sat and waited, a girl, who looked to be a sophomore, walked up to the table, looking shy.

Confused, Y/N looked up at her. "Can I help you with something?" The girl stuttered and blushed. "Oh! My friends sent me over here because I have a little crush on you.." Y/N smiled awkwardly at the girl.

However, before she could respond, a flash of blonde and pink engulfed her vision as soft lips landed on hers. She was caught off guard at first but relaxed into the kiss as she realized who it was.

The kiss broke after a minute and Regina George gave the girl her best ice queen glare. "Do you mind? She's my girlfriend, she's not interested in a child like you." The girl ran off embarrassed as Regina turned toward Y/N, smiling.

"Good morning to you too baby." Y/N smiled and wrapped her arm around Regina's waist. The blonde smiled and pecked Y/N's lips. "HI baby. I missed you." She trails a hand down Y/N's arm. Y/N smiled and kissed her neck softly. "You saw me last night...we had some...fun, remember?"

Regina blushed hard as memories of last night flooded her mind. She kissed Y/N to keep her quiet as Gretchen and Karen began to tease her. They pulled away and began to talk about their day, killing time for the bell to ring.

The bell eventually rang, signaling the beginning of their day, with one more kiss, Y/N and Regina parted ways and went to their respective classes.

A few hours later, Regina sat with Karen and Gretchen, waiting for her girlfriend to walk into the cafeteria for lunch. She finally made her appearance and started walking over to Regina when the same sophomore from earlier stopped her in her tracks.

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Can I help you with something?" The girl smiled. "I know you and Regina aren't really dating, my friend told me that her and Shane Oman are...so.." She trailed off, looking Y/N expectantly.

Y/N cringed and walked past. "In your dreams." She headed to the table where her girlfriend and her friends were sitting before a tug on Y/N's arm stopped her again. "Just give me a chance!"

You could hear a pin drop in the cafeteria. Everyone stared at he younger girl with wide eyes. Regina was on her feet and to Y/N in an instant, prying the younger girl's hand off of Y/N's arm and pushing her back slightly.

"What the hell do you think you're doing putting your hands on my girlfriend like that? Did you not hear me this morning? Back. Off." The sophomore girl stood her ground. "You're not dating! Stop lying!" Regina got in the girl's face and got angry.

"I suggest you turn and walk away because the end result is not going to be pretty for you." The girl scoffed. "And what are you going to do about it, bitch?"

Y/N sensed it before it happened, so when Regina reached up and went to swing at the girl, Y/N picked Regina up by the waist and pulled her back to their table. "Nope. You aren't getting suspended today."

Regina was fuming. "How dare she? How FUCKNG dare she?! She's lucky you pulled me away because I was about to claw her fucking eyes out." Y/N laughed. "Yes, that's why I pulled you away. I just paid for you to get your nails done and they aren't getting blood on them yet."

Regina smiled and scooted closer to Y/N. "You're my girl. Not hers." Y/N smiled and pecked Regina's lips. "Never in a million years would I want to be anyone else's girl but yours baby." Regina smirked and kissed Y/N. "Good."

Later in the day, Y/N was sitting outside on a bench, waiting for Regina and the girls to walk out of the school when Y/N's ex, Lindsay walked up.

Y/N looked up at the sky. "God, what is it with you and sending people to ruin my day?" Lindsay smirked. "Don't act like you don't miss me, Y/N." Y/N looked at her in disgust. "Yeah, no. I don't miss cheaters."

Lindsay scooted closer but Y/N spotted Regina walking out and shot up to go meet her. The blonde smiled at her girlfriend coming at her and allowed herself to get pulled in her arms. Y/N kissed Regina's head. "There's my girl. I had an unwanted guest while I was waiting for you."

Regina looked behind Y/N to see a fuming Lindsay sitting on the bench Y/N had just vacated. "I can see that." Y/N kissed her deeply, many people stopping and looking at the couple. Lindsay yelled in frustration and stormed off.

Regina pulled away and smiled at Y/N, who had a dopey grin on her face. Regina wiped her lip gloss off Y/N's lips. "You're my girl. Don't forget that." Y/N smirked.

"I could never."

[calicoheartz]

Oh oh anddd...

Cait x wbbp!reader. Caitlin confesses to reader after their homecoming game because Caitlin realized that she doesn't want to hide her feelings anymore and possibly lose the love of her life.👀

-🦢

Hoco Hearts ; Caitlin Clark

꣑୧ — summary | you and caitlin had been best friends since middle school , what happens when she decides to make you hers on the eve of your homecoming game? 💌

wc ; 805

— warnings | lots of romantic / sexual tension , a bit suggestive , mainly fluff (high- school au)

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : ugh ily anon. YOUVE BEEN KEEPING ME FEDDD W UR REQS! also sorryyyy its low-key kind of short :( Enjoy besties ◡̈

Caitlin stood beneath the glowing lights of the basketball court, the scent of popcorn and excitement lingering in the air, as the sound of excited highschoolers filled her ears. It was homecoming night, a night pulsating with anticipation and celebration, as everyone gathered to experience the last basketball game of their senior year. But amidst the anticipation and excitement radiating both on and off the court, Cait’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions.

Her eyes glanced across the eyes before locking them onto a familiar and distinctive figure. You were a dedicated member of the girls basketball team at Dowling Catholic highschool, and had been playing varsity since your freshman year. 

You were always there, capturing every moment of the games with unwavering passion, and Caitlin couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nerves in her stomach everytime their eyes met.

Your history with Caitlin goes all the way back to middle school, with you two quickly developing and forming a strong bond, especially with your common interests such as basketball among other things. It was undeniable that you two had underlying romantic feelings for eachother, but the two of you never knew when the right moment was to bring these newfound feelings to light. 

There had been a number of situations where you two had almost shared a kiss, whether it was behind the bleachers after an intensive game,  or possibly alone in the bathroom at a halloween party; regardless, it was very obvious that the two of you were just more than friends.

But Cait was your best friend, she had been there for you when you got your first boyfriend, received your first heartbreak, and all the hallway crushes you had acquired over the years. And it pained her that you weren’t getting the hints she was giving you, the way she glanced at your lips constantly, or occasionally rubbing the inside of your thigh when around your friends, it was torture. 

You knew Caitlin liked girls, she knew that you liked girls, so why weren't the puzzle pieces naturally falling into place? 

That's why when their last homecoming game approached, Caitlin knew that this would be her last chance to confess her feelings before it was too late.

The game was intense, with both teams giving it their all. Caitlin played her heart out, her mind consumed with thoughts of you. Every time she made a play, she hoped you were watching, hoped you could see how much she cared, not just about basketball, but about you.

As the final buzzer sounded and the crowd erupted in cheers, Caitlin felt a mix of emotions. On one hand, she was thrilled that they had won, but on the other, she knew that the moment of truth was fast approaching. She had to tell you how she felt.

After the game, as the team celebrated their victory, Caitlin pulled you aside, her heart pounding in her chest. She took a deep breath, gathering her courage, and looked into your eyes.

"Hey, can we talk?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, concern etched on your face. Caitlin led you to a quiet corner of the gym, away from the jubilant crowd.

"I... I have something I need to tell you," Caitlin began, her voice trembling slightly. "I've been keeping this to myself for so long, but I can't hide it anymore. I... I love you, Y/N. More than anything."

You stared at Caitlin, stunned into silence. You had never expected this confession, never even considered that Caitlin might feel the same way you did. Your heart soared with hope, but you needed to be sure.

"Do you mean that, Caitlin?" you asked, searching her eyes for any sign of doubt.

Caitlin took your hands in hers, her gaze unwavering. "I do. I love you, Y/N, and I don't want to hide it anymore. I want to be with you, if you'll have me."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized that your feelings were reciprocated, that the person you loved felt the same way. Without hesitation, you threw your arms around Caitlin, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"I love you too, Caitlin," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion. "I've loved you for so long, I just never thought you could feel the same way."

"I've loved you since I was 14.." the brunette whispered back.

Caitlin held you close, her heart overflowing with happiness. She had taken a chance, laid her heart on the line, and it had paid off in the best possible way. She was with the person she loved, and nothing else mattered.

As you both stood there, lost in each other's arms, surrounded by the sounds of celebration, Caitlin knew that this was just the beginning of your love story. And she couldn't wait to see where it would take you.

ahhhhhhh omg wait I rlly wanna write more cc/pb high school au fics !!!! as always, thank you guys so much for reading <3

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The Bell Pepper & The Big Tomato (The Surprise, Part 9)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: established relationship, pregnancy times, some pregnancy pain symptoms, explicit language, fluffity fluff, innuendo, implied sex (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Worried, overprotective Emily can be a little overbearing, but she has your whole heart. And while Emily's mind adjusts to being a mom, your body continues to adjust, too.

Week 18: The Bell Pepper

“Em, come here!” you shouted from the bedroom, hearing the door open and shut. Your wife’s bag thunked as it dropped to the floor, heels pounding on the hardwoods as she full-on sprinted to the bedroom.

“What is it?! Are you okay?! Are you hurt?!” she rambled as she hurried over to you, her hands pressing to your forehead, your baby bump, your wrist, as if to feel for a pulse.

“I’m fine,” you chuckled, squeezing her hand. “Did you just check for a pulse?! Do I look dead!?”

She shrugged sheepishly before leaning down to kiss your forehead, smoothing back your hair. “Force of habit.” Her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Really, though, are you okay? It’s 6:00. and you’re in bed.”

“My feet are just sore,” you grumbled, wiggling your toes. “They’re getting all swollen and fat.”

Emily exchanged her work clothes for sweatpants and a tank top, pulling her leg through and stumbling a bit. You giggled. She sat cross-legged on the bed near your bottom half, pulling one of your feet into her lap to massage it.

“I love fat feet,” Emily assured you, smiling and sarcastic. Then she realized what she’d said, and her face flushed. “I mean.. Not like that. Not in a weird way, just…”

You burst out laughing at Emily’s discomfort. “Wow!” you joked. “I can’t believe we’ve been together so long and I’m just now learning about your foot fetish!”

Emily tickled the bottoms of your feet in retaliation, and you squirmed and giggled, fending off the attack.

“Stop, stop!” you called, out of breath, as she fought off a smile. You let out a shaky breath, grinning. “Oh, hey,” you added, reaching into your nightstand. “I got you something.”

Emily froze. “Oh my god, Y/N.”

You looked at her, worried. “What?”

“It’s twins, isn’t it?!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up–equal parts anxiety and excitement.

“What!? No!”

For the briefest of moments, her face fell, but you could tell that deep down she was relieved.

“Why would you even think that!?” you asked, rummaging around in the nightstand to pull out the surprise you’d ordered for Emily last week.

“Last time you told me you got me something it was a baby,” she muttered, placing a gentle hand on your baby bump.

“Yeah, well…” you answered, dropping a stack of children’s books next to her. “That was a one-time deal. I’m not doing this again.”

Emily beamed at you, leaning down to place a kiss at the corner of your mouth. “Have I told you recently how beautiful you are?”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. “Quit hamming, and look at what I got you.”

Emily leafed through the books. She winked at you. “Building his library already?”

“No, honey, look at the titles.”

Emily examined Where the Wild Things Are, her eyes widening.

“Y/N, this is–”

“In Arabic!” you squealed, unable to contain your excitement. “Look at the others!”

Goodnight Moon in French. The Snowy Day in Spanish. The Rainbow Fish in Italian.

Emily’s words seemed caught in her throat as she flipped through the pages of Bonsoir Lune.

“You couldn’t figure out what to say to her,” you explained. “I thought maybe you could read to her. I thought…” You were suddenly and inexplicably nervous, afraid that Emily might not like to be reminded of all the places she’d lived, all the languages she’d had to learn. “I thought you might like to read to her in your other languages, but… maybe it was a stupid idea. It’s okay if–”

You made a little noise of surprise as Emily pressed her lips to yours, her hands on either side of your face. She kissed you again and again and again until you were out of breath and giggling and red-faced.

“They’re perfect, honey,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to yours. “Thank you so much.”

With one last peck on the lips, she positioned herself perpendicular to you, so that the back of her head rested between your breasts and your baby bump. She took a shaky breath, smiling, eyes wet, and cracked open Bonsoir Lune, placing a comforting, absentminded hand on your baby bump before starting.

“Alright, baby Jules,” she said. “Laisse moi te raconter une histoire.”

You didn’t understand the words, but you knew the book well enough that you could follow along. It was exciting to know that with a mom like Emily, your baby probably would understand the words–no matter what language they were in. After all, you were starting early.

You played with Emily’s hair as she read, running a slow hand through her cool, dark locks.

“Dans le grande chambre vert il y a un téléphone et un ballon rouge et un tableau…”

Week 19: The Big Tomato

Early May in DC was, in your opinion, perfect hiking weather. Just chilly enough for a jacket, not yet warm enough or nice enough for hordes of people to be out on the trails. Emily would almost always prefer the gym to a hiking trail, but she knew you loved being outside, that you missed being in proximity to nature downtown. So every once in a while, she indulged you.

This Saturday was one of those indulgences. She’d even gotten up early for you because you preferred a morning hike. Nice and cool. Dew still on the grass. Quiet. A thin layer of fog if you were lucky.

Sweet, sleepy Emily who took the coffee you pressed into her hand. Emily who grabbed your head and pulled it toward her and kissed it and said, “Baby, it’s too early for you to be this peppy.” Emily who yawned the whole way to Rock Creek Park, but squeezed your bouncing leg and smiled just the same. Just because she knew you loved it, and she was happy to give you the things you loved.

It was an easy hike, only about three miles. One you’d done plenty of times before. But Emily, still waking up, dragged behind you, the backpack–which included water, snacks, and first aid at Emily’s insistence–weighing down her shoulders. You were a little more taxed than usual, thanks to the little parasite attached to the front of your body, but mostly you were just excited to feel well enough to be out there.You skipped a rock into the creek from a bridge, relishing the smell of the moist earth and the little gurgling sounds of the water passing underneath you.

Emily leaned against the bridge railing and exhaled deeply, rubbing her shoulder. She smiled as she watched you root around for more things to throw in the water–sticks, leaves, big rocks.

“Did you see that!?” you called, the stone you threw skipping twice and then over a bigger rock.

She nodded, trying to appear as enthusiastic about the rock as you were. “Yeah, baby, that was great.”

You grinned and walked over to kiss her on the cheek. “I love you,” you said, unprompted. “Now give me this backpack.”

“No!” she protested, standing so you couldn’t reach it.

“Em, you’re tired,” you argued. “I can take it.”

“I’m not gonna let my pregnant wife carry the backpack while I carry nothing. Don’t even try.”

You shrugged and backed off. “Alright, but we’re only half a mile in. There’s a lot of hike left.”

“Nice try,” Emily said, kissing the tip of your nose. “You just walk and find your little rocks and look pretty, okay?”

“Okay,” you conceded, walking ahead to step from rock to rock. You gasped as you tilted forward on one of them, adrenaline flooding icy-hot through your veins. You’d never seen Emily move so fast in your life. She grabbed your arms hard, widening her stance around you to keep you from falling.

“Y/N!” she yelled, her voice sharp. You knew she wasn’t angry, just scared. She helped you step down from the rock, never once letting go of your hands.

You breathed heavily, a bead of sweat rolling down your forehead.

“You okay?” she asked, pushing your hair out of your eyes.

The world spun around you, making your stomach flip. You sat down heavily on the rock. “Yeah, just… really dizzy all of a sudden.”

Emily removed the backpack from her shoulders and squatted next to you, pulling a water bottle from the side pocket. “Drink.”

Normally, you’d have a snide comment ready. Something to reassure her that you were okay, still yourself.But your head was still reeling. You drank obediently, and that’s how Emily knew something really was wrong.

She watched you closely, eyebrows furrowed, hand steady on your shoulder, as you tried to breathe evenly, shutting your eyes against the spinning world. You placed a hand on your stomach as it fluttered. There were several minutes where neither of you spoke, you trying to slow the dizziness and Emily trying not to freak out about you.

“How do you feel?” Emily ventured after a while, rubbing your hand with her thumb.

You were silent, avoiding her eyes.

“Honey, I think…” she started, knowing it would break your heart. “I think maybe we should head back and go home.”

You still didn’t respond. You knew she was right, but you wanted so badly to be out here, to get back to normal. You knew the baby was worth it, but sometimes you felt like carrying her meant losing parts of yourself. And you didn’t know whether you’d ever get them back.

You sniffed, your eyes growing wet.

“Hey,” Emily soothed, moving closer and pulling your head to her chest. “Hey, it’s okay. We can try again next weekend. Hell, we can go every weekend if you want. Don’t cry, honey.”

“I’m scared, Em,” you whimpered.

“Scared of what?” she asked, running a hand through your hair.

“I’m scared I won’t be the same. I’ll just be a mom.”

Emily rested her chin on the top of your head, planting a kiss there. “Honey, you probably won’t be the same. Neither will I. But you’ll never just be a mom. You’re you and you’re a mom. It’ll be a part of who you are, but not all of it.”

“Just…” you leaned into her, keeping your eyes closed as your head whirled. “I don’t want to lose myself.”

“I won’t let you,” Emily reassured you. “I love you too much.”

She rubbed your back for a few minutes then leaned back so you could sit up, pressing your fingers to your forehead. “You think you can try to walk?”

You nodded, holding tightly to her arm as you stood. She kept her arm looped tightly through yours as you made your way back along the short stretch of trail you’d managed.

About halfway through you stopped and bent, wincing, as a sharp pain shot up through your groin and around your hips. Your stomach felt like it was doubling over on itself. You knew they were growing pains, your body making room for the baby. But they still took you by surprise as they wrapped around your pelvic muscle and snaked their way up your back like licking flames.

You shook, scrunching your eyes closed, your breathing labored. You were trying so hard not to move, not to do anything that would make it worse.

“Hey!” Emily cried, bending down to meet your eyes, her hands running all over you, trying to figure out where you were hurt and how she could help. “What’s going on!? Where does it hurt!?”

“Cramps,” you hissed, gasping as another ripped through you, nearly doubling over.

“What do you mean!?” she pressed. “Is this normal!? This doesn’t seem normal.” She was so frantic, you couldn’t really tell if she was talking to you or to herself.

Emily seemed to make a decision. “You know what…” she started, but didn’t finish. She bent down and wrapped one arm around your back, going under your knees with the other, and lifted you into her arms. It took you so off guard, your stomach did somersaults, and you grabbed onto her neck for support.

“Emily!” you protested. “Put me down!”

But Emily was beyond listening, beyond reason. The animal part of her brain that lived only to protect you and to protect her child had taken over, and she was carrying you swiftly down the trail toward the parking lot as if you weighed nothing.

“Babe, do you think it’s contractions!?” she asked, her voice urgent with both effort and anxiety. “Should we go to the hospital?!”

You watched her and felt a surge of love for your wife. She took such good care of you. Of both of you. “Honey, no,” you said, trying to comfort her as she huffed her way through the parking lot toward the car. “I’m only halfway through. It’s way too early for contractions. It’s round ligament pain. No big deal.”

She was panting as she lowered you gently into the passenger seat, watching you with scared eyes.

“Em,” you prompted, reaching out to push a sweaty strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m okay, I promise. I probably just pushed myself too hard.”

She seemed to think about this for a minute, placing one hand on your cheek and the other on your baby bump. She sighed. “Alright. But we’re going straight home and you’re gonna lay in bed. No arguments!” she added, before you could object.

Emily got settled in the driver’s seat, starting the car and pulling hesitantly out of the parking lot. She kept shooting worried glances at you, like you might break at any moment.

“I’m fine, Em,” you told her, sliding your hand under her shirt at her shoulder and resting it there.

“If it happens again today I’m calling Dr. Delgado.”

You were both silent for a few minutes. Emily’s silence was anxious, but yours? Well, how were you supposed to feel after your hot FBI agent wife carried you to the car bridal-style because you had some pregnancy pains?

“Maybe,” you suggested, “you could run me a bath at home instead? That might help.”

Emily nodded, thoughtful. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“And, uh,” you continued, flushing, and placing a hand suggestively on her thigh. “Maybe you could join me?”

“Well, I'm not leaving you alone. Not right now.” Emily was not getting it.

You sighed, frustrated, and tugged at the waistband of her joggers. “You know what would really make me feel better?”

It finally clicked. She swung her head at you, then back to the road, a look of pure shock on her face. “That’s what you're thinking about right now!? I just had to perform a wilderness rescue and you want to have sex!?”

“Wilderness rescue, my ass,” you said, shoving her shoulder playfully. “We were like a quarter mile from the parking lot. And I could’ve walked if someone didn’t want to play knight in shining armor.”

She smirked at you. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”

“Oh, I more than liked it.”

Emily grinned, cheeks red.

“In fact, I’d like to show you exactly how much I liked it,” you finished, taking her hand in yours.

“Alright,” she conceded. “But you’re getting in bed and resting after.”

“Fine,” you agreed.

“Fine.”

You sighed like a lovesick dog, watching Emily bite her lip as she thought about what was to come. “You’re really hot,” you blurted out without thinking.

She laughed. “And you're really horny these days. I gotta carry you more often.”

“Please,” you begged. And it wasn’t the last time you’d be begging today.

[hiramaris]

I'm gonna request something for haley bc i love how you write her and not so obsessed. im not sure if you are writing for request? but im gonna give my shot

a prompt where haley as wife, and the farmer was late passed midnight because of mining shit. and almost died (lmao). she got home safely, but limping with her wounds and bruise. then there's haley, saw her wife barely walking and her reaction, just comfort, fluff, worried and taking care of the farmer.

that's all, thanks, no pressure <3

Kiss it Off Me

CHAPTER 7

Chapter Summary:

"I don't like your stupid gift!" She didn't intend for it to sound harsh, but as soon as her mouth opened, she couldn't stop the words from spilling out. "I honestly thought you'd know better than to give me something like this."

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer:  I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: violence, blood

Notes:

thanks to anon for being the first-ever reader to request a prompt. I initially thought to make a separate fic for this one but I realized why not make it as a new chapter? There would be some adjustments to the prompt, instead of Haley being the farmer's wife, she'd be somewhere in between a friend and a woman struggling to put a name to what she's feeling with the farmer. I'm really sorry anon for not following the route you're hoping for but I do hope you'll like this one.

Summer 9

The sound of thunder clapping from above her made it difficult for sleep to come that night. Despite the late hour, the darkness outside was illuminated intermittently by flashes of lightning, casting eerie shadows across the walls of her room.

Rain drummed steadily against the glass, a constant reminder of Yoba's fury. The room felt oppressive, suffocating almost, as if the storm had seeped its way indoors, invading her sanctuary.

She had always hated rain. Well, the main reason is it's horrible weather for a dashing photographer like her. Not only does it ruin her hair that she spent all morning fixing, but it could also ruin her equipment. Oh, did she also mention it gives an awful lighting?

She also shares the same level of dislike for storms because they destroy the calmness of rain. It's aggressive, cold, and destructive.

That's why the moment the news announced there would be a storm for the next three days, she was quick to stock every little favorite snack she could think of because there was no way she was waltzing outside in that kind of weather.

Haley popped out a tired eye as she looked at the clock beside her.

1:56 AM.

Oh, joy it's almost two in the morning. How in Yoba's name could she go outside with bags under her eyes probably heavier than all of Emily's hippie gems combined?

'I mean– there's always a concealer,' she thought but quickly dismissed the idea.

She has been minimizing her makeup since... since whatever (when you told her she looked prettier even without them) PLUS with summer's sweltering heat, layering on cosmetics seemed suffocating.

With a groan, she pushed herself up from the bed, determination flashing in her tired eyes as she made her way to the kitchen to get a glass of milk, hoping that this little solution would finally give her the sleep she'd been craving for.

But as she reached for the milk, a cacophony outside shattered the stillness of the night. Haley froze, her heart pounding in her chest. It's kind of hard to tell with the harsh rain and thunder and everything.

As if to confirm that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her, a set of audible coughs echoed just behind the door. Haley's heart thumped so loud she was afraid it might come out of her chest.

That could only be an intruder.

In Haley's sleep-deprived mind, she didn't stop to even realize that Pelican Town had never experienced a robbery in the dead of night. Instead, she quickly bolted to her room, grabbing Alex's old baseball bat he had left here one time, not even having the presence of mind to wake up Emily to face this 'intruder' together.

****

Spoiler alert, it wasn't an intruder but an idiotic farmer covered in dirt and unbelievably wet from the rain.

You were holding your rucksack close to your chest for dear life with your sword held tightly by your other hand when Haley found you slumped against the door.

"What the hell are you doing outside at this hour and in this weather?" was the first words she uttered when her eyes spotted you. She was quick to help you up and bring you inside, not even minding the mud and water accumulating from where you stood.

When you didn't respond, Haley met your eyes.

Haley's heart nearly stopped at the sight beyond her. Without being hidden by the darkness, she could finally see your whole state.

There standing is the farmer herself. Your white hoodie was tattered and looked burned. Your hoodie's sleeves are ripped too up to your upper arms, and your left arm has a cut with fresh blood still gushing out of it.

You were missing the other pair of your shoes, and your hair was disheveled and covered with slime. You even had multiple scratches and scrapes all over your body. Your right cheek has some small scratches, and blood is rushing out of the wound on your forehead.

"Yoba..." Haley's voice was barely a whisper as she gently cupped your cheeks, careful not to aggravate your wounds. Her eyes flickered to the gash on your forehead, blood still seeping from the wound. "What happened, Y/n/n? We need to get you to Harvey!"

You shook your head weakly, struggling to stand upright. "No... H-harvey," you protested, your voice strained. "H-he'll kill me."

"Y/n!" Haley's arms enveloped you in a tight embrace as you nearly stumbled over her. She wanted to reprimand you, to demand answers, but the rush of blood in her ears and the pounding of her heart against her chest prevented her from doing so.

For now, she needed to make sure you were okay.

You only grunted in response as you gave in to her, allowing her to guide you to the sofa. Haley's lips trembled with worry as she gently settled you onto the cushions.

"I'm just gonna get a towel and the first aid." Her lips trembled as she said those words.

In record time, she was able to get everything she thought you'd need, afraid if she missed any more seconds you wouldn't be breathing.

When she returned to the living room, she almost went ballistic when she spotted your form unmoving from your seat.

"Y/n! Wake up, for Yoba's sake! Don't you dare die on—" Haley's words caught in her throat as you rasped out a response.

"...oh, look an angel," you managed with a small grin, your tired eyes fluttering open.

Haley couldn't help but smile softly at your attempt to lighten the mood. "Very funny," she replied, relief flooding through her as she saw you conscious, if only barely.

Wordlessly, she draped a towel over you, tucking it gently to ensure you stayed warm. It was the same blanket she used during storms like this when she felt cold herself.

With a purposeful stride, she made her way to the fireplace, adding more wood to the fire in hopes of warming you further.

"Keep your eyes open, please? I'm just gonna get some rags to clean up your wound," she requested gently.

She placed the first aid kit on the coffee table in front of you before heading to the kitchen to gather clean rags and a sponge.

Returning to the living room, she filled a bowl with tap water and carried it carefully as she made her way back to you.

With great tenderness, Haley cautiously wiped the blood from your body with the sponge, dampening it in the tap water she had prepared. She winced as the color of the water turned red.

"You lost too much blood," Haley commented, masking the shakiness of her voice. She wasn't a great fan of blood but she was not naive with treating minor injuries either. She silently thanked Yoba for letting Emily force her to learn a thing or two about first aid.

You only grunted in response to her observation.

"What happened, Y/n?" She couldn't hide the worry in her voice even if she dared try. "I should call Harvey and get you to the clinic."

You groaned as she accidentally applied too much pressure to your wound. "No... it's okay. It's n-nothing, I'm fine."

"These serious injuries don't shout nothing, Y/n. What the hell happened?"

"'I went to the mine..." you explained, and Haley waited expectantly for you to continue.

"It's storming."

"I know..." You couldn't look at her in the eye. "It's just that there's not much going on in the farm so I thought I should continue my expeditions in the mine. I thought it would be safe but..."

"But it wasn't." Haley couldn't helped but deadpan.

You visibly winced, unsure if it was because of your wounds, Haley's biting remark, or just both. "I heard from Marlon I could find rare items once I reached the hundredth floor, which I did," you explained, tapping your rucksack beside you. "But I should have known better that those items are rare for a reason. Not because they're hard to find, but because they're hard to acquire. Once I got hold of this baby," you gestured to your bag, "the whole cave was swarmed by slimes and shadow people."

"What?" Haley's voice sputtered with disbelief, her brows furrowing in concern. "Shadow people? I thought they were just myths!"

You tried to nod in confirmation, but Haley kept a firm hand on your cheeks, preventing the movement. "Uhuh, they're very real," you affirmed, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "And I can say they aren't really fond of us humans and, uh, dwarves I think. They're more scared of me than intimidating. I tried not to, y'know, hurt them."

"That's a stupid idea."

"I know," you admitted, your gaze dropping to the floor. "But given our history with them, I didn't want to give them any more reason to hate us. Plus, I was the one invading their homes."

Haley let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping with weariness. "Still, you should have fought back. What if they had killed you in there? How would we have known you were down there and rotting? You're the only one crazy enough to go down there anyway."

You didn't speak after that, and Haley mistook that as compliance. She was too busy fuming at your lack of self-preservation to notice the frown creasing on your features.

After managing to cleanse the visible injuries of your body, she began to grab some clean rags to apply some pressure on your forehead and your forearm to keep your bleeding to an absolute minimum.

She cursed softly under her breath, trying to think of what to do next.

"…Y/n? Y/n, wake up, stop sleeping," Haley's voice was quiet, her tone laced with urgency as she gently tapped your cheek.

Your eyes pulled themselves open and looked tiredly at her. "Hn?"

"I need you to sit up straight and pull your hoodie off. What do you have underneath?" Haley's words were gentle but firm as she carefully supported your shoulder and hip.

"…just a tank top."

Slowly, you strained to sit upright, wincing with discomfort. Haley could tell from the way your grip tightened on her wrist that you were not comfortable sitting for very long.

With Haley's assistance, you managed to pull your hoodie off, careful not to aggravate any wounds. Once the clothes were removed, Haley's eyes lingered on the minor cuts just below your chest, blood still seeping from the wounds. She grabbed the sponge again, gently brushing away the blood from your cuts.

After cleansing the wounds, Haley applied alcohol and antibiotics, causing you to grunt in discomfort. No words were exchanged as she skillfully wrapped bandages around your forehead, forearm, and abdomen. She then helped you into warmer clothes she found in her wardrobe, her movements gentle and reassuring.

"How do you feel?" Haley bit her lip, anxious. Honestly speaking, she wasn't confident in her abilities to treat injuries, so she anxiously awaited your response, hoping she hadn't made things worse.

"…I'm alright now," you rasped, your voice hoarse with exhaustion. "…thank you, Hay."

Haley felt a wave of relief wash over her at your words. Your face had regained some color compared to earlier when you looked as pale as a ghost.

"Do you want anything to eat?" she questioned tentatively. "I'll whip you up some tea and soup."

You swallowed gently and nodded your head.

"I'll be back soon then. Rest. I'll wake you when your soup is done."

****

About twenty minutes later, Haley went back into the living room, a tray in her hands. She found you sprawled on the couch (thankfully not moving too much), embracing your rucksack in your arms once again. She wanted to question what was inside and why you couldn't part with it so much but decided to make sure you were okay first.

The things she does for you.

She placed the tray of food on the coffee table and sat beside you, taking in your sleeping form.

"Y/n/n? Food's ready," Haley said softly, tapping your thigh to rouse you from your slumber.

Startled and kind of a forced of habit, you tried to sit up straight. Thankfully, Haley was fast enough to stop you.

"Don't get up. | don't want to wrap your wounds again," Haley admonished, her tone firm.

She grabbed a pillow and propped it behind your back to elevate your head slightly. As she picked up the bowl of chicken soup, she could feel your eyes on her.

"I can feed myself, Haley. Thank you," you finally spoke. Haley's eyes met yours briefly before she averted her gaze, a flicker of emotion passing over her features.

"Clearly, you aren't capable of feeding yourself. Stop being a baby and let me do this."

Your eyes settled on her for probably a full minute before you sighed in resignation. Despite the hardened gaze she probably wore on her face, Haley gently placed a spoonful of soup in your mouth.

"I know you can, Y/n," Haley spoke after a few moments. "But you lost too much blood already, I don't want you to bleed again."

"I'm sorry for causing you all this trouble," you uttered softly.

Haley paused and finally looked at you, like, really looked at you properly this time. Since you had arrived covered in mud and blood, she had been operating on autopilot, with only one mission: ensuring you were okay. It's the only thing running through her mind, leaving no room for anything else. Mainly, she hadn't thought about the impact of her words.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's no trouble. I'm just..." Haley paused, thinking about what words to use without giving away that she cared too much. "I'm just glad that you're okay."

Once you had finished eating, Haley placed the empty bowl down and reached for a damp cloth. Brushing away a stray lock of your hair, she gently wiped away a few drops of blood and dirt, her touch surprisingly gentle. She was so focused on her task that she didn't notice you watching her quietly, your expression softening as she attended to the blemish on your face.

"Haley..." you called softly, breaking the silence. Haley looked down at you, her eyes startled. A small, appreciative smile graced your lips as you continued, "Thank you."

Haley couldn't help but smile in return. Sometimes it's hard to stay mad at you. "You can thank me by resting and making sure this won't happen again."

You chuckled softly as you closed your eyes, resting your head against the pillow once more. "No promises."

Seeing that you were getting sleepy, Haley quickly gathered the empty bowl and cup and placed them in the sink. When she returned, she extended a hand to help you up, much to your confusion.

"Come, let's get you to my room."

"Haley," you protested weakly. "I couldn't possibly impose more than I already have."

"Shut up. I won't let an injured woman sleep on the couch, Y/n."

Despite your protests, Haley managed to convince you to agree with her proposed setup. While Haley wasn't entirely keen on sleeping on the couch herself, it's not like she has a choice on the matter. The cushion is uncomfortable as hell, it's like sitting on a pile of bricks. That's more than enough reason to let you sleep on her bed. Plus, with the mess and worry weighing on her mind, she doubted she'd be able to sleep anyway.

She was about to leave to clean the mess in the living room when she finally sat you down on her bed, but a hand stopped her.

"…have you seen my bag, Hay?"

"Oh, that? Do you want me to get it for you?"

"No, no. Thanks but I can get it myself." You made a move to stand but Haley kept a firm grip on your shoulder.

Haley frowned. "You can't barely even stand. Do you think I'm gonna let you walk by yourself? What's in the bag anyway? I'll get it for you."

"I'm wounded, not disabled–" you tried to say but Haley only raised an eyebrow at you, daring you to finish your sentence. You sighed when you realized that you wouldn't win against her again. "It's... it's a gift."

"For whom?" Haley couldn't help but ask. Who could you possibly want to give a gift that you almost died just to get it?

Was it for Penny? Haley heard she liked gems as well. Or was it Maru? If she could remember correctly, tomorrow's her birthday and she seemed to like everything you can find in caves. This totally makes sense.

But why did her heart clench at the thought? More importantly, how did she even remember all this information when she didn't care about them at all?

Before you could respond, Haley left the room to retrieve your rucksack. She felt like she didn't need to hear the answer to her question.

When she returned, she wordlessly handed the bag to you, prepared to leave the room once more. However, your voice stopped her in her tracks.

"It's for you."

She turned, mouth agape. "What?"

"It's for you." You smiled warmly as you held out a familiar-looking crystalline gem, about the size of a palm, emitting a dazzling array of colors.

Haley's initial surprise quickly turned to dismay as she recognized the mineral. Her frown deepened, and a flicker of discomfort passed through her eyes at the sight of it. She knew what it was, and just the thought of touching it made her feel physically ill.

"What's wrong?" you asked, concerned at her sudden change in demeanor.

"I don't like your stupid gift!" She didn't intend for it to sound harsh, but as soon as her mouth opened, she couldn't stop the words from spilling out. "I honestly thought you'd know better than to give me something like this."

"I..."

"Keep it," she said with finality. "Good night, Y/n."

With a curt nod, she turned on her heel and stormed off, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing in the room as she left.

****

She shouldn't have said that. She knows she shouldn't have but she was just so worried she couldn't control anything else spouting from her foul mouth.

She hated how she caused the light in your eyes to die down. Hated the way you weren't able to say anything else. Hated the way she just couldn't probably express her worries properly.

Now you probably thought she hated your guts.

Which is far from the truth. Kind of the opposite actually but she's far too tired and confused to delve into her feelings further at the moment.

It's true she doesn't share the same passion for gems and rocks as her sister Emily, and people will generally thank someone who will give them a prismatic shard because for one, they are pretty, she's not gonna lie about that. Secondly, they're super rare and by extension, expensive.

Haley just couldn't bring herself to appreciate it in the same way.

She hated them with passion. And she hated people assuming she liked shiny things because of her personality.

While it's true she's kind of materialistic, it was a trait ingrained in her from years of her parents trying to compensate for their absence by showering her with gifts.

She didn't like being materialistic, but she's so used to it that it's hard to stop.

And she hated how you seemed to think the same way about her when you thought about giving her a prismatic shard as a gift. That all she ever was were just pretty and expensive gifts.

And she hated how you let yourself get hurt just to give her this.

She hated everything about this.

****

Haley spent the majority of the night cleaning the living room, hoping to tire herself out enough to dull the heaviness and emptiness in her heart. She didn't know it was possible to feel both at the same time, but there she was, experiencing it firsthand, and she despised every moment of it.

And she hated herself more now because she found herself padding her way towards her room. Her steps faltered when she saw you peacefully sleeping on her bed. A gentle smile touched her lips at the sight of your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Unable to resist, Haley approached you quietly. She carefully tucked you in, a tenderness in her actions that betrayed the turmoil in her heart. Leaning down, she pressed a soft kiss to your bandaged forehead, a gesture she had learned from her late grandmother.

"To kiss the pain away," her grandmother used to say, and Haley found solace in that belief.

With one last caress of your cheek, Haley settled onto the foot of her bed, a magazine in hand, silently hoping for the sun's rays to finally peek behind the horizon by her room's window.

****

Haley woke up surprisingly lacking any back pains. She didn't feel sleep-deprived either.

Wait—

How'd she get in her bed? You're supposed to be– Oh.

She sat up straight when she realized she was holding a letter in her hand. Straightening up the almost crumpled paper, she could recognize your handwriting immediately.

Good morning, Haley. Sorry for the disturbance last night, and thank you for taking care of me. It means a lot. I didn't want to impose more than I already have so I excused myself while you were asleep. Thank you again. — Y/n

Haley studied the letter, noting the hastily scribbled handwriting that differed from your usual neat script. She could imagine you rushing to write it just to avoid dealing with her.

It hurt more than she cared to admit. But after what she said to you, who was she to complain?

At this point, it would be a miracle if you still talked to her.

"Good morning, sis!" Emily chirped, her voice echoing through the room as Haley emerged from her room. She sat on the couch, casually knitting what appeared to be another sweatshirt.

Haley's expression was one of mild annoyance as she replied, "It's noon."

She glanced around the living room, noting the sunlight filtering in through the curtains, indicating that the day was well underway and the storm had thankfully subsided.

"Storm has passed but Caroline canceled, just to be safe," Emily responded, her fingers deftly working the knitting needles as she spoke. "And I know it's noon. Just wanted to emphasize you slept late, little lady."

Haley let out a resigned groan, her movements sluggish as she made her way toward the kitchen to avoid further conversation with her sister.

"Just so you know, I saw Y/n/n come out of your room!" Emily called out from the living room, her tone playful yet teasing.

Haley froze mid-step, her grip tightening on the handle of her mug. "Wha—" Her voice wavered slightly, betraying her surprise. "Nothing happened!"

"Of course, nothing's going to happen in that state she's in," Emily retorted.

Haley couldn't ignore the sense of urgency that suddenly gripped her at the mention of your state. You're in no condition to go home all by yourself.

"Just tell me you took her home," she pleaded, her tone softening slightly as she returned to the living room.

Thankfully, Emily's too caught up with her work to notice that brief slip-up of vulnerability Haley rarely shows.

"I volunteered actually, but Penny saw us on our way and insisted she could do the job," Emily explained, her tone matter-of-fact.

"And you agreed?!" she sputtered incredulously.

"Of course, I would!" Emily readily defended. "She volunteered!"

Haley's sigh was heavy as she sank down onto the couch next to Emily. "You should have woken me up."

She could feel Emily's eyes settling on her as if trying to decipher what's got her so distressed.

"I tried, but Y/n/n won't let me. Said you needed the sleep," Emily finally answered after a few moments of silence.

"You're unbelievable." Haley couldn't help but massage the bridge of her nose at Emily's casualness about the situation as if seeing a heavily injured farmer waltz out of Haley's room was just a normal occurrence. "I suppose she told you what happened then?"

"Uh-huh. Accident in the mines, right? And she went here instead to the clinic because Harvey would kill her once he saw her state." Emily chuckled, her tone light as if discussing the weather. "He just literally told her last time to take it easy."

Haley blinked in disbelief. "And how do you know this?"

"Everyone knows this, Haley." Emily looked at her as if wondering why she didn't know this piece of information. "It's practically a common thing to see Y/n/n passed out outside in the morning."

Haley's brows furrowed in frustration, her mind racing with thoughts. Of course, she doesn't know this. If she would have known, she would have told you to take it easy. Hell, she'll help with farming if it will make things easier for you. This thing where you pass out and overwork yourself shouldn't be normalized. Actually, if anything—

She stopped herself from this line of thinking because why the hell was she even considering helping out with your farm when she, in fact, hated dirt?

"She also told me how you stepped up and helped her," Emily continued, her voice pulling Haley back to the present moment. She felt Emily's hand pat her shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. "I saw she's well-cleaned up. I'm proud of you, sis."

Haley forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. I'm not proud of what I did, Em.

*****

Summer 10

The sky was painted with hues of pink and orange as Haley sat alone on the shore, the gentle sound of waves lapping against the sand providing a soothing rhythm to her troubled thoughts. She had come here seeking solace, the ocean always offering her a sense of peace in times of distress.

The events yesterday had bothered her more than she had let on. She convinced herself you'd understand why she reacted the way she did but a part of herself thinks she should apologize.

But as stubborn as she is, she instead spent the whole day sulking, which is what she did.

She embraced her knees closer to her chest, fingers brushing the bracelet adorning her wrist. It was her great-grandma's, a delicate piece of jewelry passed down through generations adorned in gold and pearl on the middle part. Her grandmother has given it to her instead of her mom because she'd rather wear luxurious things than some hand-me-down jewelry. But Haley loved them, and it's probably the only piece of jewelry she'd ever wear aside from the shell necklace she was wearing now.

It was a ritual of sorts for her, wearing the bracelet whenever she felt sad and alone. It's as if wearing it made her feel like her grandma was with her at this very moment, comforting her.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't realize her bracelet had slipped from her wrist. It wasn't until she reached to adjust it that she felt its absence.

"Oh, no..."

With trembling hands, she combed through the sand, her movements growing more frantic with each passing moment. Her eyes scanned the water's edge, fearing the worst as she desperately sought any glimmer of gold amidst the grains of sand.

No, no... impossible. She made sure she was far enough from the water for that specific reason.

An hour passed with no sign of the precious heirloom, and Haley felt tears welling up in her eyes as desperation threatened to consume her. She practically combed the whole beach for it and still no signs of the bracelet.

She couldn't help but slump back to the sand. She's feeling everything too much.

She's such a useless piece of shit. She couldn't even kept an important heirloom. How the hell can she even keep someone like you in her life?

Everyone's right. She's way up high in the clouds that everything she touches crumbles within her fingertips.

The tears are threatening to fall from her eyes and a sob is rising on her throat.

And just before a tear fell from her eyes, a hand shot up and grabbed her by the shoulder.

She looked up and met a pair of gray eyes staring into her own. The grayish color of your eyes is stark and deep and seemed a little bluish from the illumination of the sun. It almost looked like the sky during spring or the ocean seen from a cruising ship as a cold tundra threatened to ruin the quiet solitude of the season. Your eyes telltale thousands of untold stories with every blink, stories too ambiguous, too dark for any of them to understand. Though not dark enough to feed her thoughts of the midnight sea, of storms and drowning.

Calloused fingertips thumbed mascara stains from her cheeks with such gentleness Haley doesn't think she deserves.

"I'm here," you murmured. "What happened, Haley?"

"I l-lost it," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion as she struggled to hold back tears. "My bracelet... it's gone! I know I had it on when I got here... But now it's gone, Y/n and I can't find it anywhere..."

She couldn't help the sob that escaped her as she burrows closer into you. She had probably stained your shirt with expensive make-up and salty tears but she didn't care as she dug her face deeper into your collar bone further and sucks a shaky breath.

"Shh," you soothed, sturdy arms wrapped around her tightened instinctively. "I'll go find it, don't worry."

"I'll never find another one like it..."

"I'm really sorry..." she felt you murmur against her hair. "I'm sure it's just around here somewhere."

"...maybe it'll wash up on another shore," she hiccuped between sobs. "I can't bear to think of it at the bottom of the ocean."

"We'll find it, okay?" you assured her, and Haley swore her heart stopped beating when you planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "Stay here. We're not leaving until we find your bracelet."

****

And truth be told you did find it.

After what seemed like an eternity of combing through the sand, Haley's eyes lit up as she spotted the familiar-looking bracelet in your hands.

With a smile so bright it rivaled the sun, you approached her.

"You found it!" she cheered as she run towards you, hopping from the sand and straight to your arms.

You weren't deterred by this and proceeded to secure your arms around her to prevent her from falling.

"Careful there, we don't want to drop it again, do we?" You barked out a laugh but Haley was quick to recognize the grunt of pain in them.

"Yoba, I'm sorry! I forgot you're still wounded!" Haley made a move to let you go but you weren't having any of it. If anything, you hold her tighter. Haley couldn't help but let out a laugh as well as she wrapped her arms around your neck just as firmly. "Thank you so much, Y/n. You're a lifesaver."

"You're welcome," you murmured against her chest. "Here, I'll help you wear it."

You gently set her down, much to her disappointment, and began to fasten the bracelet around her wrist, your actions filled with care and tenderness.

"Thank you, Y/n. Really," she murmured softly. "You're always there whenever I needed you and all you get as a thank you is me being... a bitch to you. I'm sorry."

You frowned. "You're not a... 'b' word. Far from it."

"'B' word,"she scoffed, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips "What are you, twelve?"

"I'm sorry for giving you that gift yesterday..." you started after a moment of silence. "Let me finish first," you interrupted gently when you saw her mouth open to speak. "I just... prismatic shards are rare to find and I wanted to give it to you because I thought it's something you'd like to photograph."

"Hey!" you protested in mock indignation. "I can cuss. I just don't want to use it around you. I don't want to get used to it."

Haley's gaze softened drastically. If you keep this kind of consistency around her then Haley's bound to fall hard on her back. And since it's with you, you'd probably made your way to ensure she'll be falling in a pile of pillows and flowers. You're thoughtful like that.

You took her hand in yours, a tender gesture that made Haley's heart skip a beat, her cheeks flushing slightly at the warmth of your touch. The soft morning light bathed the shoreline in a golden hue, casting long shadows across the sand as gentle waves lapped against the shore.

"But then I realized how it may have looked like to you, and I'm sorry I made you feel that way."

"Y/n..."

"So I like to try again." Without further explanation, you strode towards the boat beside Elliot's cabin, your steps confident and purposeful, and produced a bouquet of—wait, are those sunflowers?

"No way!" she sputtered as she tried to fight the grin threatening to spill on her face. You're not supposed to look this dashing walking towards her with a bouquet in hand. It's unfair!

"Yes way." you grinned at her as you handed her the flowers, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "I hope I'm forgiven."

"I'm supposed to be the one saying sorry, you dunce!" Haley playfully slapped your shoulders before accepting them. "They're beautiful, Y/n! These are my absolute favorite! Thank you."

"No worries. And if you're free you can take a look at them at my farm."

"You planted them?" Now that she had mentioned it, it sounded like a stupid question. Of course, you planted them yourself, where else can you get these flowers?

But as usual, being the kind and patient person that you are, you only beamed at her and nodded. "Yep! I planted a whole yard."

"For real?"

"For real," you affirmed, your smile widening at her incredulous expression.

"But why? I mean compared to other crops I'm sure sunflowers aren't that profitable."

You shrugged again, your expression softening. "Eh, I wasn't aiming for the profit. I was aiming for your smile."

****

Next

A/n: my toes are curling while I wrote this, I hope you felt the same. Anyway, the bouquet of sunflowers isn't the same bouquet that makes Haley your girlfriend. It's just a regular ol' bouquet our farmer has personally crafted because she's a simp for our queen but just too oblivious to see it. Sorry for the delay, I had just finished my clinical recently so I was busy the whole month of April. Hope y'all like this one!

P.S. comments are much appreciated!

THANK YOU FOR 2500 LIKES! YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST, SERIOUSLY.

taglist:

@joordynn

@taliiiaasteria

@iluvwomen01

[twignotstick]

Flowers for Venus

She's here~ 🩵

Note: This story is based on @cupcakeslushie 's Empyrean Weeping au. These characters are not my own, and this story is in no way canon to the main story. I really made a lot of assumptions here, so this must be emphasized.

Tags: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, ROTTMNT, Venus de Milo (TMNT), NOT MY CHARACTERS, Empyrean Weeping AU, experimentation, mental issues, perspective shifting, intentionally written to be confusing or leave out information at times, they are all family your honor

Warnings (if there's anything I should add here, tell me please!): childhood trauma, abandonment issues, physical violence, repeated mentions of medical(?) procedures

Words: 6,472 🪦

Summary: Venus had one person in her life, and that was what mattered. Until she didn't.

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

“I'm going to fix your body.”

The young turtle gazed up into the glass chamber before him, observing the mangled, underdeveloped, and weak body within. The vitals displayed around it were at acceptable levels; nowhere near as good as needed to survive out of the chamber, but acceptable considering the circumstances.

Not acceptable to the young turtle in front of it.

“You should be out here, learning with me. Being my sister. So I'm going to fix you.”

The turtle within the chamber did not stir- only breathed, as blood was forcefully pumped through its nonfunctional veins.

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

“Huginn and Muninn helped me find more books to help you!”

Three- he had realized that the body in the chamber may not yet know his name, and so he introduced himself not long ago- bounced on the balls of his feet. He had one book clutched close to his chest, with others strewn about the workspace he had made around the chamber.

“Yokai biologists have very interesting methods! I plan on attempting some of them soon- Pops said he is going to get me some more materials before I try. He said that Witch Town will probably have what I need. The fusion of biology and mysticism is incredible! Oh! Oh! And!”

He dropped the book that he was holding on the floor carelessly, tripping over his own feet as he ran over to a table to show the body's closed eyes another. This one was thicker.

“Muninn says that this one was written by a human! ‘Mary Shelley’. It's called ‘Frankenstein’. I believe that's a name too- the surname of the main character. I haven't read it yet, because I haven't had time to. However, maybe with your improved cognitive function as of recently, it could be beneficial for me to read it to you!”

Three got no response, but he could have sworn that a part of the body's brain scan spiked.

“I can't start now. I have to finish my work on the developmental errors in your lower arm, but as soon as I finish that and find what I need to find, I'll start! I'm really curious about human literature.”

Three got to work, as the mind within the chamber grew curious.

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

She didn't quite know what time it was, but she knew what was supposed to happen at this time. The voice was supposed to make noises in the room- Three, that was his name- and he was supposed to talk to her. Her? She thought that sounded right.

Three had told her about pronouns. He had said that since she was biologically female, it was assumed that she would go by she and her. Just like he was male, and went by he and him.

He had said that her name was Five.

Even so, Three liked calling her Vee, justifying it with the reason that they “matched”. Five didn't quite understand where the name came from; perhaps how her name was spelled? F-I-V-E, that was what Three had told her. T-H-R-E-E, that was his. But he spelled Vee as V-E-E. Maybe that's why they matched. Both had two E's in their name.

Their names were numbers too. One, two, three, four, five. She wondered why she was Five, and he was Three. Where were One, Two, and Four? Were they there, but she couldn't hear them? Was Pops another name for One? Pops and One weren't anything alike. She wished she could ask all the questions she had in her mind.

She wished she could see. Maybe that would explain why Three hadn't spoken yet.

Just when she was starting to believe that he may not speak to her this time, Three made noise. She couldn't see, but he stumbled through the door and sat down in a chair near her with a smile on his face. He looked at her, she could feel it.

“I'm sorry I'm home late, Vee. I met a new friend today! But don't tell Pops. He's a human.”

Five knew that word. Weren't those bad?

“Timothy isn't like other humans, though. He's nice! He showed me some insects and told me their names. Surface bugs are very different from normal ones! I think I might ask Huginn and Muninn to retrieve me some books on surface entomology. I can tell them that it's biological research.”

Entomology. That's a big word. What does that mean?

“Entomology means the study of insects, by the way. It's a very interesting branch of science. Timothy said he has books that tell him the names of different insects at his house. Oh, and a house is where humans usually live. Not a lab, like we live in. Or… a glass chamber, like you live in! Though, technically your chamber is within the lab.”

The lab. She wondered what the lab looked like.

“I think that I may be able to replace your eyes soon. I've been developing a prototype, hopefully it shouldn't take me too long to finish! From there, I just have to work really hard to get your other physical errors fixed, and then you can come out here! Maybe I can even bring you to meet Timothy!”

Timothy. That was a nice name. Not as good as Three or Vee, though. They matched. Though, maybe Timothy matched too. She didn't know how to spell Timothy yet.

Maybe they could match anyway.

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

Three stumbled in today. Vee couldn't see it, of course, but Three had tripped, holding in tears. His chest just wouldn't stop hurting. Pops had said he could walk it off, so that is what he tried to do.

He couldn't walk much longer, falling to the floor in front of Vee's chamber. She enjoyed hearing the sound of his breathing, but she never liked it when he breathed this heavily. That meant he was hurt and crying. That meant Pops had done an experiment or a test. That meant Three didn't have the power to work on her body. He would always apologize for that. Of course, that never stopped him. She always heard him working.

“...V-Vee…”

That is her name. He loves to remind her of that.

“M-maybe…” Three gasped deeply, holding the breath for longer than he should before slowly releasing it. “Maybe if… I finish you… he w-won't do this to m-me anymo-ore…”

Vee couldn't feel his eyes on her. Until she could.

“I've shown him y-your guts alr-ready, though… maybe he won't won't w-want to v-vi…vivi…”

That's not how he's supposed to say her name. It's Vee.

“...Vee? Vee~”

That's right.

“Veeveeveevee…”

Is that right?

The mumbling of her name faded away, turning into slow rasping breaths.

She didn't want him to be hurt and crying anymore.

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

“I want to make you as strong as One is. Or, at least, he should be. I haven't met One. Or Two. Or Four. But Pops says that it's impossible for you to be that strong. You're a box turtle, designed for defense. Anyhow, it's more important that I develop your muscle mass enough for you to stand independently first.”

Vee wondered what One, Two, and Four sounded like. Maybe their voices were jumpy and squeaky like Three's was now. Maybe they were sweet, like his was before. She wondered what Pops sounded like.

“Four is a box turtle like you. He developed properly, but don't feel bad! He got stolen away, so really, he got the short end of the stick! You're living the life of luxury.”

So many types of turtle. Did that mean they couldn't match anymore?

“I showed Timothy some sketches of my work with you. He got this really weird look on his face, and I thought he might not believe that I could fix you. But, he promised that he did believe in me! And he said he can't wait to meet you!”

Surely, he was just jealous of Three's hard work.

“I'm still working on your eyes. They're causing me more problems than I thought they would, but I think I'm getting closer to a functional product! It's just taking a while to find a good base that can survive the transfer.”

Eyes. One more sense. He taught her the five: touch, taste, sight, smell, and hearing. She had hearing- or at least, she believed she did. She didn't know what else this could be. To have two senses would be marvelous.

Three's voice went away, leaving a rubbing sound. He had told her what that was. It meant he was “rubbing his hands together”. It was a “nervous habit”.

“Pops told me… he told me that talking to you was ‘fueling my delusion’. I know that, logically, you're comatose. Your body isn't supposed to work right now, for the sake of your life.”

That made sense. She was hurt. Three said that if she came out of her coma as she was now, she would die. Dying wasn't a good thing.

“But I really want you to hear me. Even subconsciously. So- so that way, when you do wake up, we'll already be friends! A-and you'll already know so much about me, so I just need to know about you!”

That sounded nice. Vee wanted to tell him about herself. Maybe she'd know just what that meant by the time she got the chance.

“I promise I'm going to fix you soon. It'll be no problem!”

Vee liked that.

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

Three was hurt and crying again. But this time, he didn't come to collapse by her chamber. He was far away, in the workspace. Vee didn't want him to be hurt and crying anymore. Three had said that hurt could mean dying. Three couldn't die yet. Vee still had to tell him everything about herself.

He wasn't even saying her name this time. He was saying the human's. He was hard to hear, so quiet, so far.

Timothy.

I'm sorry, Timothy.

What does that mean?

I'm so, so sorry.

What does that mean, Three?

Please, Tim.

Three?

Please forgive me.

I'm sorry.

I'm so, so sorry.

Three?

Three, please. She wants to understand. She wants to know you.

I want to know you. Talk to me, please. Tell me everything. Tell me about Mary Shelley. Tell me about entomology. Tell me about One. Tell me about Two. Tell me about Four. Tell me about Pops. Tell me what you're working on. Tell me how you want me to be better already so I can hold your hand and talk back. Let me hold your hand.

Tell me what's wrong.

“---ee? Vee, I'm ---y, I'm here, plea--- calm down. I'm here, please. Do I need- do I need to sedate her? I-”

He's not crying anymore. He's talking to her.

“Vee? Five?”

That's right.

“Should I read to you? W-Would you like that?”

She would.

“P-progress report 13. May 23rd. It happened today. Algernon bit me.”

Flowers for Algernon. Surface literature. Of course he would read surface literature now. He was just thinking of Timothy.

Every time Three would read this specific story to her, he would explain that the first few progress reports were intentionally written with poor spelling and grammar. He would spend the whole time explaining the correct way to write the sentences, up until the writing became legible. Then, when the writing returned to its sorry state, he would resume his corrections.

“I visited the lab to see him as I do occasionally, and when I took him out of his cage, he snapped at my hand.”

Vee knew the end of this story.

“I put him back and watched him for a while. He was unusually disturbed and vicious.”

It never ended nicely. They always had to die.

“May 24th. Burt, who is in charge of the experimental animals, tells me that Algernon is changing.”

She didn't want anyone else to die.

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

Something was different. Where once there was a lack of anything, now there was something. Something Vee didn't have the knowledge to understand just yet. She couldn't understand light. She couldn't understand color. Now, it was right in front of her.

A blur of a color she didn't know the name of, green, with a dash of another, purple. Three's voice came from it.

“Eyelids are open. Should be working. Just one last test-”

Three grabbed a small blur- a silver flashlight- and shined it into her eyes. Her muscles instinctively tried to close her eyelids, but there just wasn't enough power behind it. They stayed open enough for Three to see the pupils constrict.

“Yes. Yes! YES! They work! Yes!”

Three sounded happy. That was good. Maybe he looked happy, too. Vee didn't know what happy looked like yet.

“...I have to show Pops. I have to show Pops! Wait! Stay right there!”

Three left the room, and Vee thought deeply. “They work”. Three had said that her eyes “didn't work yet” before. So that must mean that they work now. That meant that she was seeing. This was what she had been looking forward to ever since Three had attempted to explain the abstract concept of seeing.

This was it.

Those colors. The nameless ones that she didn't know- the ones she didn't even know how to identify as colors- that was Three. That was the face of the voice who had been her only comfort for all of time. That was the face of the person she wanted to comfort. The voice that she heard crying and hurting. The person she wanted to hold the hand of.

The door to the room opened again, and Three returned with a taller figure. Vee had never heard him before, she was sure of that when he got close for her to hear his breathing. Maybe she could have seen him before. He was tall, and covered with new colors. She couldn't name them, but they were gold, blue, and magenta.

“Look! Look! Her eyes are functional now! They constrict and dilate! Watch!”

Three held the light to her eyes once more, and her pupils shrank again.

The new voice only grunted.

“She's so close to completion now! Th-there are only a few more developmental errors, and she just needs a little more muscle mass-”

The tall figure lashed out at Three, as another color, magenta and pink, writhing, latched around Three's throat. He was held off the floor, just a few feet. His happy breathing stopped.

“You have obsessed over this project for too long. Your progress has been agonizingly slow, and this is what you have to show for it?”

A new voice. Deeper. More menacing.

Pops.

Three gasped for air, trying to respond.

“I suppose I must also involve myself. Your inefficiency up to this point will not be forgotten.”

The writhing mass slammed Three into the floor as the tall figure walked away, shutting the door behind himself.

Three heaved shaky breaths from his spot in front of Vee's chamber. He almost sounded like he was crying and hurting.

Was this what crying and hurting looked like? Curling over yourself? Was that what she was doing? She was supposed to be hurting. She didn't think she was crying, though. Could you hurt and not cry?

Could you cry and not hurt?

Three moved onto his knees, placing one hand on the glass. His face looked different, as if the light reflected off of it differently. His eyes looked at her. For the first time, she could feel and see it.

“I'm going to get you out soon. Then… then you can be here with me. And Pops will be proud. And I'll have you, my sister. Forever, and ever, and ever. And no one will take you from me.”

Three smiled, leaning against the glass and falling asleep.

That sounded nice.

-----------🕷️-----------

“What is this?”

Vee stood over Three at his workbench, looking down at the sketch he was working on. It looked familiar, like other ones he had made, but the notes around the margins were different.

“Oh, it's another collar for Big Mama. She has someone joining the Nexus who has some immunity to electricity, so I have to work on an alternative design…”

“How does it work?”

Three looked up at Vee as she smiled softly. She loved doing this. Getting him talking about the things he knew about.

“Okay, well, since the regular electric shock won't result in what we're going for, I have to find another method of keeping the fighter in line. So- so this collar is designed to tap straight into the nerves in the neck- focusing mainly on the more secondary nerves, but also creating a pathway to the spinal column if needed. With this, the nerves can be pinched all at once, effectively paralyzing the wearer!”

Vee looked over the sketch, resting a hand on the desk next to it. “And why is this collar shaped so differently?”

Three brightened again. “Oh, well, for one, to create a visual distinction that makes it easier for Big Mama to know what type of collar it is. But also, because the specific yokai has… no neck? Sort of? They have shoulders, but it would be somewhat easy for them to slip a standard collar off. So, alternative design! And this one can be green.”

“Very good. I'm sure Mother would appreciate the change in aesthetic.”

The stone in her pocket began to glow.

“Speak of the Devil, I suppose.”

Five slipped her mask on quickly, then answered the call. “Hello, Mother.”

“Turtley-boo! Hello! Where are you, my dear? I couldn't find you!”

“I had to deliver this week's recording to Three. I'll be returning home shortly.”

“I would hope so! Everything here is always such a tissy-tassle when you're over at that terrible place. Oh, do come home quickly, please. Your mama is getting lonely.”

Vee looked to Three, and they exchanged a soft look, even behind Vee's emotionless mask. “I'll be there in a moment, Mother.”

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

This was wrong.

This was all wrong.

She was supposed to be worried about being taken from him.

What could she do, now that he was taken from her?

Four was gone. Then Two was gone. Vee thought, surely Three wouldn't be that dumb. Three was smart. He cared about her. He wouldn't leave her.

So where was he now? On the surface, living with rats and humans.

And she was left behind. Stuck under the thumb of a spider that claimed to be her mother. Forced to witness the violent aftermath that had come when Three disappeared, as Lord Draxum berated her and her mother for letting Three get such delusional thoughts in his head. Ideas that made him weak and stupid. Hopes that his family cared for him. 

But he left his family, didn't he?

She was supposed to be his sister.

And he left, in search of a family that didn't even know his name. His face. His voice. That voice was supposed to be hers. The one who took care of her. The one that fixed her.

Draxum may have caused her birth, but Three gave her life.

Didn't that matter to him?

She had been so scared of being taken from him, Vee didn't even consider the idea that he may be taken from her.

Fighting against him was something from her worst nightmares.

This couldn't be happening.

This was all wrong.

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

Empty apologies.

He left, all because of a stupid dream he had been chasing. He left the family he had because of some dumb idea of a family that he had romanticized in his head. He left her.

Maybe he never cared about her anyway. She was just a toy to pass the time.

She wasn't real, anyway. Just a monstrous body given life.

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

��Hi, Vee!”

Four approached her, sitting down cross legged on the floor beside her. He examined the blade she had been sharpening with an odd fascination.

“Where'd you get that?” He asked innocently.

“From Mother.”

Four straightened. “O-oh. Guess I shoulda… guessed that, huh?”

“Maybe.” Of course he should have. Who wouldn't recognize one of Big Mama's weapons?

“Hmm…” Four rocked back and forth, holding his feet. “Do you feel alright with me calling you Vee? I know that's what Donnie calls you, but I know he has like… a thing with names.”

“I’m Five,” she said bluntly, looking up at Four for a moment. “But I don't mind being called Vee.”

“Cool!” Four smiled, almost as sweetly as she remembered Three doing. “What's it short for?”

Vee paused and looked back up at Four. “Sorry?”

Four blinked. “...Vee. What's it short for?”

She squinted. “It stands for the roman numeral for Five. It isn't ‘short’ for anything.”

“Oh. Well, that's not right.” Four shook his head disapprovingly. “You need to match with us!”

That made Vee think. “Match?”

“Yeah!” Four shifted to sit on his knees. “See, cause I'm called Mikey. That's short for Michelangelo. He was a human artist in the Renaissance. And Raph is Raph, short for Raphael. And Leo is Leo, short for Leonardo. And Donnie is Donnie, short for Donatello!”

Vee put her blade down on the ground, giving Mikey all of her attention. “So they match because they're all artists?”

“Well, and since they're from the Renaissance, and since we've all got nicknames!” Mikey grinned. “Do you… want a name that matches with ours?”

“Yes.” Vee answered before she could really think about what she was saying. “I-I mean, I don't really need one, but-”

“Sweet!” Mikey patted his hands on the ground. “Now, what names could work… Genevieve? No, that would be Jenny… Vivian? Nah, that's not good enough. Oh!”

“What?”

“Well, I know all of our names are from artists, but, uh, what if your name was from a piece of art?”

Vee thought for a moment. It was certainly true that she wasn't like the other turtles. Obviously, her name would have to reflect that.

Though, maybe being a work of art wouldn't be so bad.

“Sure. But tell me the name before I agree to anything.”

Mikey's expression suddenly shifted to a more serious one. “Of course. How about… Venus de Milo?”

Venus de Milo.

“...what is it?”

“It's a statue from ancient Greece. She sorta got her arms ripped off, but she's still incredibly beautiful and detailed, and a very widely known masterpiece! Wait, lemme see if I've got internet-”

Mikey fumbled with his phone, desperately trying to gather some internet signal in the depths of the Hidden City. Meanwhile, Vee simmered in the thought. A statue, broken, never to be truly as it was before. And yet, it was beautiful, not just because of what it still had, but because it had lost. It had persevered. Because something so beautiful was never truly perfect. That was what allowed it to be beautiful instead.

Maybe that beauty made it perfect, anyway.

“I like it.”

Mikey's eyes flitted up from his hunch over his phone. “Oh? Great!” He corrected his posture. “How ‘bout you try it out? Introduce yourself to me!”

Vee cleared her throat, checking her own posture out of habit. “Hello, Michelangelo. My name is Venus de Milo. You may call me Vee.” She extended her hand for a handshake. Mikey met it vehemently.

“Perfect! Now, you match with all of us! Man, the teamwork and collaboration on this mission is gonna be on point!”

Venus smiled, turning the interaction around in her head.

Maybe she could be a masterpiece.

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

Donnie loved to talk. Vee always knew that. But, for too long, she had never noticed how much he loved to be listened to; to have another directly engaging in the conversation. Once she learned that, she learned that she had a love for listening.

It was sometimes hard for her to understand her own wants without comparing them to the wants of others. She loved to listen because Donnie loved to talk. She loved to spar because that made Raph happy. She loved to ask questions so Leo could explain the nonsensical movies he showed her. She loved to eat because Mikey loved to cook.

But right now, none of that really mattered. Donnie was talking, and Vee loved to listen.

“Splinter told me that I could make him, as long as I make sure he doesn't turn, like, evil or anything. Though, honestly, if a robot uprising were to happen, I think it would be smart to just accept fate.”

Donnie was cleaning up some sort of schematic on a bean bag as a movie played on the TV. Vee sat next to him, not paying attention to the film at all. Screams about hot food went in one ear and out the other.

“So these are the plans you have so far?”

“Exactly!” Donnie brightened, then slumped as he came to a realization. “He's actually based on a design I made before you got out of your chamber. P-... Draxum destroyed that one, though.”

“Oh.” Vee slumped a bit as well. “I wish I could have seen it. Maybe I'd be more helpful now with these designs.”

“Uh, y-you don't have to worry about it!” Donnie waved his arms frantically. “It was my fault you were stuck in there anyway.”

“No it wasn't.” Vee looked at him blankly. “It was Lord Draxum's fault. He made me faulty. You helped me. You fixed my body.”

Donnie flustered, scratching at his neck. “W-well, not really. I didn't even-”

“You gave me my eyes. You gave me purpose.”

He looked at his sister, hands shaking almost invisibly where they gripped his sketching paper. Something strange came to his eyes- a shimmer, one that she knew. “I-I'm-”

“If you say you're sorry one more time, I might just rip your tongue out.”

“But I am! In more words than I can say, I am! You cared about me so much, and I just left you without a second thought. No apology I can give can ever make up for that.”

Vee sighed, shaking her head, looking at Donnie with tired eyes. “You're right.”

Donnie's nervous energy evaporated and he stilled.

“No apology will ever be enough. When you apologized to me, I didn't forgive you. When you apologized to me, I hated you.”

Venus paused, questioning whether or not she should continue. When Donnie gave no reaction, she decided to.

“When you tried to explain what had happened, I hated you. When you asked for my help, invited me in, told me you wanted me back, I hated you.”

Genuine tears started to well up in custom built eyes.

“B-because… because I couldn't believe you. You left me, and that was what was real. That was what mattered.”

Donnie took a breath in, as if to add something, but ultimately decided against it.

“Part of me still doesn't believe you.”

Months of worrying. Months of waiting. Months of simmering in hatred for the one person she had convinced herself she could trust. Months of wondering, “Would he have stayed if I had been better?” Months of unbridled rage towards her creator, who couldn't have waited just a little longer to make her right. Months thinking of her other so called “brothers” who stole her brother away.

He said no one could take her from him. So why would he throw her away?

“But you showed me otherwise.”

She never knew how to put these things into words. There was something difficult about bringing her thoughts out in that way. Because of this, she could never really tell Donnie how it felt when he first showed her that room he had prepared, which he left mostly empty for her to decorate herself. She could never explain how it felt when Splinter traced her stitches, complimenting how wonderfully they framed her features. She could never properly thank Raph for expressing his admiration for her fighting style. She couldn't express the joy she felt when she saw Leo do something that would make him feel embarrassed hours later. She could never say anything more than “It’s great” when eating one of Mikey's meals, one that should make a food critic cry.

“So you don't need to apologize anymore. You showed me how you cared, and that's all that matters now.”

Vee grabbed Donnie's hand, and the two shared a wordless understanding.

You can cry and not hurt.

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

Vee woke up to the sound of someone else moving around the lair.  All of her brothers were still covered in blankets around her, and a blank tarp hung on the wall stood in front of her that she vaguely remembered watching a projected video essay on before she fell into slumber. There was only one person missing from the scene…

As she pushed herself to her feet and walked into the hall, Vee came face to face with a still bonnet wearing April.

“Oh, morning, Vee!” April greeted energetically. “What're you doing up already?”

“This is a normal time to wake up, isn't it? You're awake.”

April hummed. “I guess you're right. I'm just used to the guys sleeping in super late. You hungry?”

Vee nodded, following April silently into the kitchen. Just a short time ago, she would have wanted to cut April's head off, purely because of her human existence. Now, she felt a strange, foreign comfort around the human. Not quite like she felt with her brother, or her other brothers, but something akin to it.

April started loading up the toaster, grabbing some spreads and setting them out on the counter.

“Got any plans today, Miss Milo?”

Vee chuckled. “It's Miss de Milo, and, uh, no. You got any plans, Miss Neil?”

April laughed in turn. “Actually, I do. And since you don't have any, I was hoping you might help me out with mine.”

Vee nodded, letting her continue.

“I brought some stuff from my place to do a spa day, slash makeover day. Figured you might want to join in.”

Vee thought for a moment. “I know what a spa day is, but what is a ‘makeover’?”

“Well, it's like,” she hesitated, “it's when you put on a ton of makeup and wear fancy clothes and stuff. Not because you're not pretty, but it's just… it's a way of making yourself feel good, y'know? You've worn makeup before, right?”

“No.” Vee shrank slightly. “Mother said that it would be a lost cause. That's why she gave me the mask instead.”

“Oh.” April shook her head, scrunching her nose. “Oh, no, no. That's not gonna work. You are going to be pampered, Miss de Milo. That is an order.”

April strode out of the kitchen, and Vee followed slowly behind. Before she could see where April had gone, there was the telltale sound of a pillow being thrown into someone's face.

“Owf- wha- hey! What was that for?” Leo grumbled through the grogginess of waking up.

“We've got a busy day ahead, boys! Gotta eat breakfast so we can get to work!”

“Busy day?” Mikey asked, slightly more cognizant than Leo. “What are we doing?”

“Makeovers. All of us!”

Vee finally caught sight of April in the hallway of the living room as she saw Donnie jumping up from where he was laying. “Are we gonna do nails?!” He shouted excitedly, running up in front of April. “Can I pick the colors?”

“Of course you can, bud. Just go eat some toast first,” April responded, patting his shoulder.

Donnie hurried to the kitchen followed by his brothers, who were all still wiping the sleep from their eyes. After that, breakfast went quickly.

Raph drug a stool into the bathroom in front of the mirror, where Vee was instructed to sit. Soon, she was surrounded by her brothers and April, with a large makeup bag in the human's hands. She put the bag down on the counter, taking out a liquid foundation in the perfect hue for Vee's skin.

“Where do you even find this stuff? Party City?” Leo asked, taking out another foundation from the bag that matched his own skin.

“No,” April scoffed, preparing her workspace, “I get it online. Its makeup, not face paint. It just happens to be green. Are you complaining?”

“No, ma'am.” Leo quickly shut himself up.

“Good. Now, let's get some jobs set straight.” April started gesturing to the brothers one by one. “Donnie, you're in charge of picking colors out, and themes. Mike, you're executing Donnie's ideas, because his hands are way too shaky. Raph, my bag's in the other room, go pick something out. You'll know what I mean when you get there. And Leo, you're in charge of music and talking. Tea spilling, gossip, whatever.”

All of the turtles nodded in response, and Raph walked out to find April's bag.

“Now, Vee.” April put her hands on Vee's shoulders, looking her straight in the eyes. “You just sit here, close your eyes, and relax. We've got it all handled.”

“Okay.” Vee hesitated, closing her eyes slowly, before shooting them open again. “Wait!”

April hummed, hovering the makeup sponge she had prepared in the air.

“Can you, uh… can you leave my stitches? Not cover them up, I mean.” She couldn't help casting a glance at Donnie, who gave a timid smile.

April relaxed. “Course, Vee. Now, close your eyes and let us work our magic!”

Vee complied, and she found herself surrounded by sounds. A strange nostalgia filled her chest.

“What we thinking, D?”

“How about, uh… this?”

“Ooo! Perfect! Can I get, uh… that one first?... Thanks! Okay Vee, I'm gonna grab your hand now. It's gonna be cold!”

“What am I supposed to even talk about? I don't have any tea.”

No need for sight. Hearing those voices, comforting her. With a slight drone of music alongside.

“How about your date with Usagi?”

“Wh- April! It wasn't a date!”

“Hey! No shoving! This is a delicate art, Leo!”

“Ugh, fine.” Another shove.

“Hey! No shoving me either! I didn't even say anything!”

“Yeah, but April's busy, Mikey's busy, and you gave me a weird look.”

“I gave you a normal look. You obviously went on a date. Vee, you know?”

Vee laughed just a bit, trying not to move and disturb April's work. “Donnie's right. It was pretty clearly a date.”

“No, it wasn't!”

“Just tell us what you did, Leo.”

Unlike before, she had other senses. But somehow, removing this one made her feel comfortable. Knowing that someone else was taking care of her felt so good.

When she felt Donnie's scar covered, calloused hand grab onto hers, the comfort felt warmer.

“We didn't even-”

“Hey, April? How's this one?”

“I think it's great, but how ‘bout you ask Mister Manicure?”

“Oh. Mike?”

“That's perfect, Raph! You got any accessories?”

“Maybe in my room… lemme go check.”

The sound of heavy footfalls walking away.

“Alright, I'm gonna be working on your eyelids, so it's gonna feel a little weird. Just try to stay loose.”

“Ooo, you are gonna look so good!”

Vee allowed the sound to envelop her entirely.

“Listen, we didn't go on a date, we aren't even a thing anyways.”

“I'm going to fix your body.”

“Usagi would be very hurt it he heard that. You wanna tell him, D?”

“You should be out here, learning with me.”

“I can text him right away-”

“NO!”

“Being my sister.”

“Just admit it, Leo! You're down bad for the bunny!”

“He still hasn't admitted that?”

“No, Raph! Because I'm not ‘down bad’!”

“So I'm going to fix you.”

“Okay, keep the volume down. I gotta concentrate…”

Time passed shapelessly. Vee interacted in the conversation when asked, but otherwise, she let the noise flow over herself. Before she knew it, she was being told to stand up and having fabric pulled onto her arms, with a ribbon being tied over her shell.

“Okay, okay, just a few more touches-”

“You've been doing ‘a few more touches’ for five minutes, Donnie. She looks great!”

“SHH! Don't rush perfection, Nardo.”

Vee blushed. “You really think I look perfect?”

She felt Donnie's eyes on her. “You always have.”

Mikey awed. “Okay, okay, okay, now you can look!”

Vee opened her eyes, just as Donnie moved to the side so she could see herself in the mirror. She saw that the fabric put on her was a dress, very light blue and with flowery embroidery patterning on the bottom of the knee-length skirt. Her claws were painted with pastel colors, with a light blue backdrop behind white daisies, each having an undertone of a different color: reddish-pink, blue, orange, purple, yellow, and green. On her face, a soft blue eyeshadow was put on her eyelids, with small painted daisies incorporated into her eyeliner. Similar flowery bows were placed down the length of her braided mask tails. Donnie quickly shuffled behind her to put a necklace on her neck, with a daisy shaped pendant.

Vee found herself speechless, staring at the stranger that had been pulled out of her own skin.

“Is it alright?” April asked hesitantly.

As she rubbed her lips together, Vee forced herself to look up at the ceiling. She waved her hands at her face.

“Oh- Oh! Its waterproof! You're good!”

“It is?!” Vee squeaked, struggling to hold herself together.

“Yeah, yeah, it is!”

“That's s-so cool!” Vee finally let her tears loose, still waving at her face while nervously laughing.

“You like it? Do you like the flowers? It was Donnie's idea!” Mikey asked, beaming as bright as the sun.

“Yes! Yes, I do, thank you!” Vee paused in her flapping to look over her hands again, and the dress, and her face.

Her flowers.

When she looked to Donnie, he looked as if he couldn't be happier.

“Well that's good, cause they cost me my dignity,” Leo groaned, despite the smirk on his face. “By the way, I call next.”

April patted his shell. “Alright, Leo. We'll make you pretty so you can look good for Usagi.”

“Great, because I- Wait! HEY!”

Vee was laughing loudly now, wiping her tears delicately with a single finger. The argument slowly turned back into background noise, as Leo sat on the stool instead, squabbling far too much for April's liking. Donnie recruited Vee for color picking and inspiration searching.

And so Vee let herself exist there, not worrying about mattering or being wanted. Not worrying about if the one she cared about was hurt or crying. Not longing for another sense to experience the world with. Not questioning if she may be taken away for good. Not asking if she really had a family. Not wondering if she did something wrong, or if she even had the right to call herself alive. Not waiting for someone to talk to her.

She had her flowers, and words could never compare.

○●○●○●○

Finally, she is here. I went a little wild on this. There are just so many parts of Vee's story that I can't wait to see. She's my little brainworm 💖

I'm glad that I can get this out before the @tmntaucompetition ends, especially since EW is in the finale. Go vote for them!!! I love them so dearly :)

I'm going to edit the first chapter of my own iteration, (currently titled Second Shot), and post that soon. I simply must get my boys out into the world, especially after discovering @dluebirb's TMNT AU family reunion. Lord knows they need friends.

GO VOTE IN THE TMNT AU COMP! AAH!

Broken Brothers (and How to Fix Them)

[janeyseymour]

La Cosa Nostra- pt 15

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12. Part 13. Part 14.

cowritten with @schemmentis - we're gonna try to revive this story, and y'all better buckle up because it's gonna get so good

WC: 3.1k

You manage to get the girls up and fed before Melissa stirs on the couch. It must be a groggy Schemmenti morning considering the girls haven’t swarmed her and woken her up themselves nor asked you why Mommy was sleeping on the couch all weekend. You gently shake at your wife’s shoulder once the girls have their shoes on, remembering how upset she’d been when you’d taken them to school without waking her. Plus, you don’t exactly feel generous and worried about making sure she gets enough rest after your fight. 

You roll your eyes at her groggy ‘what’ when she cracks her eyes open. “Your daughters want to say good morning and goodbye, is what.” You mutter, stepping aside and wave the twins the okay to hurry to Melissa.

You step back towards the front door as Melissa kisses them each multiple times. Tuning out the goodbyes and I love yous. You’d thought after not speaking aside from the essentials over the weeknd you might feel less upset; you don’t. It’s the same as before you went to sleep the night you fought. Mel’s decision over you, her standing by it, and worst of all her hitting you in all the worst places. You can’t let any of it go, not first, anyway.

You force a deep breath when you feel your little girls running back to your side, opening the front door. “Let’s go, littles, before you’re late.” You mutter as you usher them out.

“You didn’t kiss Mommy again,” Rosie states once you get into the car.

“We were running late,” is all your response is. 

Once you’ve seen them off to their class safely, you leave the girls’ school. Your eyes roll when you hear your cell phone ring for the third time in the short trip to drop them off. You know without looking it’s Tony just like it was the last two times, no doubt to ask again for the ledger which you still have no intention of giving him directly. You don’t trust Tony as far as you could throw him. Still, you know you’d better have it in hand soon for when he produces whoever he answers to. It wouldn’t be good for that to happen and you to not have it.

You sigh as you slip back into the car. Which means you probably have to break your silent streak with your wife and ask her to talk to Barbara to get it back. You really don’t want to do that though. Your pride and your stubbornness wants you to hold out for Melissa to at least admit she was being an asshole the other night. Even if she won’t admit she was wrong about the rest of it. 

You don’t have Barbara’s number but you do know where she’ll eventually turn up. You pull the car from the school lot, driving to the church. If Mel intends to be in early at the restaurant today; you don’t feel that bad about making her walk this time.

You slip in just after the morning service. Thankfully, you still spy Barbara’s head in the usual back pew. You genuflect at the side, crossing your chest before slipping into the seat next to the older woman- the one your wife would usually claim.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Barbara greets you quietly once her head raises from her prayer. “Another bit of prayer needed, hm?”

“A little bit.” You hedge. You’re not fully lying; you do think it might bring some relief after your fight with Melissa. Which, now that you’re sat next to her, you realize you may have overlooked your wife telling Barb all about. “I was also hoping to see you.” You add.

“Oh? Well, that’s sweet of you. You know I’m always glad to see you or Melissa and your girls in the Lord’s house.”

You flash a smile, one you’ve flashed the Feds and other Family members alike to be as charming as you can. “You know our whole family is always happy to see you. Especially the girls.”

“Oh, I can’t wait for next weekend. They were positively a joy at Sunday breakfast, yesterday. Though you and Melissa were rather quiet.”

“It was…a long week, last week.” You admit. “Mel and I haven’t exactly been seeing eye to eye lately.” You hadn’t meant to share that last part but you lean into letting it off your chest in some way, at least.

“I’m sure you two will sort it out. You always do.”

“I hope so.” You answer truthfully. You might still be angry, and definitely hurt, but you still love Melissa with all of you. You hope the fact she’s been dealing with being relegated to the couch for a few days is a sign she still feels the same, too. Since she hasn’t disappeared to her Ma’s or even Kristen Marie’s.

“Are things okay between the two of you? Would you like to chat about it, perhaps over brunch?” Barbara offers.

You take her up on that offer, and you find yourself bringing her back to your house- just in case the Feds are still watching you. You mill about the kitchen as you prepare a few things before settling at the table with her.

“So,” Barbara hums. “What’s got you turning up at church more often than usual lately- both you and your wife?”

“Could use a bit more prayer these days,” you sigh softly as you take a bite full of your breakfast.

“You didn’t pray today though,” the woman points out. You just shrug at that. “So what made you really come to the church?”

You throw around the options in your head. You could break your silent streak and speak with Melissa, or you could ask the woman herself for the ledger.

Deciding to bite the bullet, you say softly, “I was hoping I would run into you. I need the book that I know Melissa gave you.”

Barbara blinks once, twice. “What book, dear?”

“Barb, I know Mel gave you the book for my salon.”

The woman’s face flickers through quite a few emotions before settling on a neutral face once again. “Oh. I still don’t know what you’re speaking of? What your wife gave me was not a book.”

“Babs, I need the goddamn book,” you sigh.

“Do not take the lord’s name in vein,” Barbara tells you sternly.

“Barbara, I need the damned book. My life is on the line here,” you plead. You don’t mean for that last sentence to slip out, and you have to do everything you can to hide it on your face; the severity of the situation. For all she knows, you’re exaggerating and just using it as a hyperbole.

“And why would that be?” Barbara raises a brow. “It’s just the simple finances for the salon.”

“It is,” You hastily agree with her comment. “But I…” You take a breath, forcing out the familiar lie you gave Valentina when she first noticed Melissa’s extra stress, just modified a bit. “I’m trying to work out selling the salon so I need the book with all the finances in it to go through with a potential buyer.”

“Selling it?” Barbara repeats, a hand pressing to her chest. “Why on earth would you sell? You’ve worked hard for that place, Y/N!”

“I know but it hasn’t been profitable since…well, since I don’t even know when, Barb. I thought I could juggle it and put it back in proper working condition but the clients just aren’t coming in like they used to.”

Barbara suddenly drops the hand at her chest held in shock. “Y/N, surely you know I’m no fool.”

You blink. “Of course you’re not, Barbara. Why would I think you were—”

“The book I have is not for your salon.”

“Yes, it is.” You say, brow furrowing in confusion. Because it is for the salon, both books, and you don’t know what else Barb could think it belongs to.

The older woman sends you a long suffering look, the silence between you drawing out for a moment. “Not for the legal business of your salon though, is it?”

Your face drops. Like, actually drops- jaw open and everything. “What?”

“I’m well aware of what I possess,” the woman tells you in a monotone.

“Shit.”

“What on Earth are the two of you thinking; getting mixed up in all of this- and with your two girls!” Barbara admonishes you sharply, and you feel like you’re being reprimanded by a principal.

You search for words, but none come.

“You two are so lucky I haven’t turned it in, and I nearly did!”

“Y-you didn’t?” you whisper out. 

“Of course I didn’t, and the only reason I didn’t is because of Cat and Rosie!” Barb states. “Otherwise, I would have!”

“I- thank you,” you say softly.

“The two of you better get yourselves out of this mess, before it destroys your lives,” the woman tells you lowly.

“The only way out of this mess is prison… or death,” you inform her. “And at this point, if either of us goes to prison, or something happens to Mel, I genuinely fear I won’t survive. When it comes down to everything, Melissa is the matriarchal figure in the family.”

“Neither of those things can happen,” Barbara tells you. “And that is not true- the both of you have the most equal partnership I think I’ve ever seen.”

“Listen, I really do need the ledger back,” you try again.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Barbara.”

“Your wife entrusted me with it, and while I do not agree with what I hold onto in the slightest, I am not breaking my promise to Melissa.”

“I’m sure she told you not to open the book though, right?” you press. At her nod, you continue. “You broke that promise. So, give. me. the. book.”

“I have to go,” Barbara states. “Thank you for a lovely breakfast.” She makes to head out, and you follow her.

“Barbara!”

She climbs into her car, and speeds off. 

You’re left standing on the porch of your townhouse, staring after Barbara’s car even after it’s definitely peeled its way out of your neighborhood. You honestly didn’t know she could drive that fast. Melissa loves to call her a grandma whenever she drives the lot of you anywhere. Barbara would throw back that it was only being safe and God forbid she get into a wreck because your wife wouldn’t stop back-seat driving. 

“Fuck.” You curse, briefly covering your face. “Fuck!” You repeat as you pull your hands away. You lean back into the doorway just enough to grab your keys from the hook by the door. You slam your front door shut, not even bothering to take the time to lock it. You won’t catch Barb at this rate, but you’re fairly certain you can catch your wife. 

You’re certain, at least relatively so, Barb won’t turn you both in. Not if she hasn’t already. But it sure sounded like she was just waiting for Melissa to ask for the book to confront her herself first. You just happened to ask before your wife. You know though Barb isn’t likely to be going to Twelve Tables to have that confrontation with Melissa. So, instead, you are.

You speed your way there, not really worried about the reds or stop lights or any possibility of getting pulled over. A ticket was nothing compared to what all hung in the balance now. You make your way into the restaurant as fast as your feet will carry you.

“Hey, Y/N, how’s—”

“Not now Val,” You interrupt your wife’s right hand. “Where’s Mel?”

“She’s in the back, but—”

You wave a hand at her, muttering a half hearted ‘thank you’ as you hurry through the kitchen toward the back office. You don’t even stop to worry about knocking at the closed office door. You’re throwing it open with practically all your weight behind it in your haste that has you stumbling into the room.

“Mel, we need to—”

“What the fuck?” Melissa grouses at the slamming open of the office door. Her mood doesn’t exactly improve when she looks up to see you, a glare from green eyes sent your way. “I’m in the middle of a meeting.” She says, the end of it coming through her clenched teeth with a nod to the man standing at the desk in the office with her.

“I really need to talk to you. Right now.” You rush out.

“Ya don’t talk to me all weekend, and now ya want to? Now? I told ya, I’m in a meeting. Get out.”

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti!” You nearly yell, stepping into the office and gripping her wrist and fighting to physically pull your wife from the office.

“God…damn it. Fine!” Melissa huffs, agreeing to go once she realizes you aren’t going to let her actually work until she does. “‘Scuse me a minute.” She says to the man before following you out of the office and shutting the door after her. “What the fuck is so damn important you have to try and literally pull me from work? One of the girls’ better be hurt or the world better be endin’, so help me God, or it’s gonna be you on the couch now, Y/N!”

“Our world might be ending,” you sigh quietly, eyes down. Then your eyes meet her own. “Barbara knows.”

The redhead has the same face that you wore when Barbara revealed that she knows what she possesses. “What?”

“Do you see why it’s so important now?” you ask her.

“Fuck. Fucking shit.” She runs a hand through her hair. “We’re fucked. We’re going down, and we’re taking all of-“

“She said she hasn’t turned us in because of the girls,” you whisper. “But we have to figure out what to do before something terrible happens to either us, or Barb and Gerald. They cannot get involved.”

“Fuck!” Melissa shouts.

“I know,” you sigh. “I know. I- I don’t know what to do.”

“How do you know she knows?” your wife implores.

“I was at the church earlier,” you tell her. And you recount the earlier events before, “and then she told me that the binder wasn’t for the legal side of the salon. She knows.”

“God dammit,” Melissa whispers. She runs a hand over her face. “Fuck. Okay, uhm… let me handle this meeting, and then I’ll meet you at home so we can figure out what to do.”

“I’ll be sitting in the back waiting for you,” you tell her. “And don’t forget that we do have to pick up the girls today.”

“I know,” she says. “I know. Okay. We’re gonna- we’re gonna be fine, and I- fuck.” You watch as red curls whip around and head back into the office.

With a sigh, you head for the back exit again. Valentina looks at you curiously, but you don’t acknowledge it. You just continue on your way. You pull your car closer to the back door, idling as you wait for your wife. She’s quickly slipping into the passenger seat in less than five minutes.

As you pull out of the lot of Twelve Tables and head towards your home once more, Melissa runs her hand through her hair as she glances at the clock. “Okay, we still have a few hours before we have to get the girls, so we can figure this out.”

“Figure this out?” You echo, glancing at Melissa. “Babe, we have what, four hours? We’re gonna figure this all out and fix everything in four hours?

“It’s just Babs.” She says, trying to convince the both of you. It’s clear she knows how much power her church friend holds at this moment, and it terrifies her. She takes a deep breath, rolling the passenger window down enough for wind from the drive to whip her red locks out of her face. “She didn’t turn us in because of the girls…we can, we can buy time.”

“How? How are we gonna buy any time?” you implore. “We got the Feds still digging into shit; who knows what part of the Family they’re eyeing right now? But it doesn’t matter. Any part of it goes, you know the rest is screwed.”

“That’s only if somebody flips. Nobody would flip.”

You take the risk of holding your eyes off the road a little longer than you should to give your wife a look. You both could likely think of ten people each from your respective sides that could, under the right circumstances, absolutely flip.”

“Fuck, I know!” She says, waving your glare away from her as she looks out the passenger side window. “Look, they ain’t got anywhere yet, huh? That means we still got time. We just need to make sure Barb really ain’t gonna do nothin’.”

“She wouldn’t talk to me past tellin’ me she promised you to only give it back to you and then that she knew.”

“Oh, sure, she can stick to that part of the damn promise.” Melissa grumbles as she gets out nearly before you can put the car in park in the driveway. She turns back just as you catch up to her on the front porch. “Ya didn’t even lock the door! Aduzipach!”

“We do not have time for another argument!” You toss back as you reach the top step, gently ushering her inside with you as you pull the door shut again. This time you do lock it behind you. “We have to be on the same page, okay? We really have to be or we’re definitely screwed. I’m still pissed, and hurt but whatever. It doesn’t matter right now. Right now what matters is you, and me, and the girls. That’s all that matters, which means we have to figure a way out of this bullshit.”

“Amore, you know there’s only two ways out of the life. Neither one lets us be there for the girls- at all.”

“And both I’d preferably like to avoid entirely.” You add, sighing as you slump into your couch. “So..w we have to literally do the impossible.”

“I don’t know how we’re going to do that,” Melissa groans as she leans into your figure.

Barbara Howard speeds off, and she doesn’t necessarily know where she’s going. But after a bit, she figures that you aren’t following her, and she stops at a local diner to pick up takeout for a lunch date with her husband, the senator.

TAGS: @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

[carmenized-onions]

Do the Thing | Toilet Repair

logline; Today's itinerary: Fix the toilet, catch up with Syd, try not to cry when everyone asks you where you've been.

series history; Previous Chapter

portion; 7.1k+ (this shit got away from me man, idk what to say)

possible allergies; Negative self-talk (It's the Bear, babe, everyone's sad). I did no research on plumbing and am truly making it the fuck up-- I know for a fact I'm not using any word correctly and I simply will not be fixing it. Reader eats meat!! Specifically pork!! Your 'name' is 100% just Tony now.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'handywoman' and 'Miss' are said. Plus a chest reference).

you ever start writing and you just cannot seem to find an end so you keep going forever? yeah.

“I think my name is just Tony now.”

You sip your overpriced orange juice. You really have to fucking savour it, now a days. That’s like 25 cents a sip, and Syd’s treating you to this breakfast outing, so it’s not even your own wallet on the line here.

“You lose all sense of identity, in a restaurant.” Syd straightens her back, mocking her very own mechanical movements of whenever she steps in a kitchen. “I am Chef.”

This diner isn’t more than two blocks down from The Bear. It was probably your second favourite spot in this neighbourhood. Probably still is. Sitting in the back corner booth (your favourite) with Syd is nice but distracting. She’s been updating you on everything since the catering scene and her botched credit, and you’re absorbing all of it, you swear, it’s just hard to not remember why this was your favourite booth.

Not because it’s seats are the least worn in, not because it’s got the right amount of sun through the window without blinding you, but because of the company you kept here. You’re trying to not notice your own name carved into the table. Especially since it’s not your handiwork.

You laugh at Syd’s joke on time, thank God. No awkward pause. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are. Head, right?”

She nods. “It’s cool. It’s like, vomit-worthy stressful but also…”

“You wish you were dead when you’re there, but you’d rather be dead than do anything else?”

“Yessir.” She nods again, digging further into her pancakes. “I really fucking owe you, by the way.”

“You’re paying me off through breakfast.” You wave her off. “Plus, I was available and it was like maaayybe 5 minutes of manual labour, it’s nothing.”

“Y’know what?” She hums, “I think actually, you owe me.”

“Yeah?” You grin.” Please, let me clear my debts, Syd?”

She smiles, pointing her fork at you. “You owe me the fuckin’ Beef background I’ve apparently not unlocked. Everyone was talking about you after.”

“Good things?”

“Vague things. Shit made me even more curious.”

You laugh. No shit they’d be vague. What can they say? “When my dad was running the repairmen gig, Cicero or Fak would call him in—”

“Oh fuck.” She snaps her fingers, seemingly in realization. “Your dad’s the connection!”

“The connection?”

“Fak said he had a connection for our fire safety test shit, and then said he didn’t—”

“Ah.” You nod knowingly. “Dad cut the cord on his business phone when it transferred to me, didn’t really keep people updated. Whoops.”

She nods, taking another bite of her pancakes, speaking mid-chew. “You could’ve saved our asses way faster, and I’ll-I'll never forgive you, but continue.”

Snickering, you continue, “Well, they’d call my dad in, and then my dad would call me in as his like, like his fuckin’ Sous of Repairs. And shit broke all the time at the Beef, as I’m sure you’re well aware, so I hung out around Mikey and everyone a lot.”

“Ah. N’ then…”

“He fuckin’ died.” You laugh, because there’s no way to say it smooth, so you might as well say it bad. You stretch out your arms and lean back in the booth. “I kinda took a step back, after that, so we didn’t manage to crossover ‘til now. S’ironic that you’re the one that brought me back instead of an oldie, honestly.”

She desperately wants to ask more about Mike, but she can tell now is not the time, so she just lets it lie and moves on. “You stopped being an EMT to take up the handyman shit, then?”

“Yessir.” You nod, finishing your straggling home fries. “Just kinda made sense to trade off, and I didn’t want to see the family bizz die. Do I have to occasionally pick up shifts bartending to make rent during slow months? Yes. But I also don’t watch people die anymore, so that’s a win.”

“In a way, you’re watching people die still, just slowly.”

You bite down hard to stifle any semblance of a smile or laughter, deadpanning, just to see her squirm in awkwardness for a moment. It works with flying colours, of course it does. It’s Syd. She’s still Syd. You speak at the same time.

“Cause of the alcohol?” “Cause—Cause of the alcohol.”

You both break into laughter, she throws her napkin at you. “Can’t stand you, oh my god. Let’s go clock in.”

She pays your bill before you can try to sneak your card in, which feels all too familiar, and you’re off.

Off to fix an exploded toilet.

“How the fuck do you fix an exploded toilet?”

Your hands rub over your face, lifting your safety goggles for a second. Too fucking foggy. Too fucking sweaty. Plumbing never really was your biggest strength. You’re staring at the bane of your existence, and it’s the latrine. How far we fall.

“You good, Cousin?” You hear from behind. You don’t need to turn to know it’s Richie in the doorway. It’s a fair question, you’re sitting criss-cross in front of a toilet, head in hands.

“Yeah, Cousin, I’m good.” Your words are muffled by your hands. Fully not cousins. For the record. You would argue you're not even that close, but he'd slap you upside the head. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Can you like, get me a pen and note pad? I need to like, strategize an attack.”

“It’s not that bad, Cousin—” “It’s that bad.” “Just tape the—” “Fuck off with the tape!”

You click your teeth, staring at the gurgling porcelain before you— At least it’s clean, it’s just fucked. “I shut the valve and it didn’t do shit. I think I have to remove it entirely so I can see what’s going on with the underground pipe.”

“Heard.” Richie and you both know that his hotfix handiwork has absolutely contributed to this penultimate mess you’re in now, but you’re both letting that go quietly for now. “You charge by hour or service?”

“Service flat rate and then after two hours it’s by hour.”

He hums, knocking his fist on the doorway a few times before walking away. “Pen and pad, Chef.”

“Not a Chef!”

“Term of Respect, Chef!”

You tap your leg incessantly, groaning like you’ve got an 80-year-old body as you stand to your feet. Richie’s grown a lot. He wears suits now. Hasn’t even poked at you for vanishing. Though you have a feeling it’s coming. If not from him, from someone.

You step out into the hall, leaned against the wall with your arms crossed as you wait for your pen and pad. And now you just have more time and a better view to take in how much has changed.

Gutted. A few walls gone. Makes sense, you told Mikey he was getting a mold problem. He never listened. Seats are new. The booths are the all-around style ones now. Ritzy. It’s too good for this neighbourhood. Is that a good thing? Yeah, right? Despite the fact that The Bear should feel out of place, you feel out of place being in it. Could you afford to eat here? Could the people who work here afford to eat here? Syd said she’s not getting paid for the next few months, so at the very least, the Head Chef can’t.

“Strange?” Tina sidles up to you on the wall, wiping her hands on her apron. Completely knocking you out of your dissociative fugue state.

“Yeah.” You nod, a little too quickly, that felt judgey, you correct, uncrossing your arms. “It’s daunting, I think; to see it all at once rather than slowly built in. Like, I know objectively this is very cool, but—”

Tina hums with understanding. “Feels gutted?”

“Was gutted.” You nod. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it, it’s just, I dunno. Adjustment period, all that.”

“I needed a second too, but Jeff is good. Change has been good.” You nod like you know who Jeff is. “Carmen, I mean.” Your nod is now significantly more understanding. She smiles, you’re a little surprised to see Tina’s got a lot more insight than she used to. She pulled the thought of Carmen right out of your subconscious before you even detected it for yourself. “He’s good. You’ll see.”

You nod. You know the good she means is not Michelin Star Good. You already know that. He’s Mikey good. Person good. You clear your throat. “How’s Louis?”

“Good. Y’know, he’s getting to that age, getting in trouble. S’been a while since he’s had a good influence.” She nudges you. There it is. There’s the poke. The ‘where have you been?’ The ‘it’s been a year’. The— “Y’know, Chef didn’t come to the funeral neither.”

That one you didn’t expect, your head swivels to her hard. “Carmen didn’t go?”

His brother didn’t go? Oh, who the fuck are you to judge...

She nods, practically with her whole body, she looks more amused than anything. But like, mom amused. The worst amused. “You’re both the sensitive type.”

You cock your head at her, raising a brow. Smirking slightly. “Wow, Tina, I thought you changed too but you still talk your shit, eh?”

“I’m not talking shit!” She laughs, hands up in defence. “I’m just saying, you’re alike.” You hope that the laughter makes her forget the topic but it doesn’t.

“Where have you been?” She softens. She’s not asking to be mean, she’s asking out of concern. Why does that make it feel worse?

You tuck your hands in your pockets and retrain your eyes on hers, even if it feels bad. “Thought time and distance would heal all wounds.”

“Did they?”

Before you can answer, “Pen delivery, cousin!” Richie returns, triumphantly, with a pen and pad held high in the sky. He makes you jump for it. You elbow him in the gut, not hard. “Fuck off, Rich…” He keels over enough for you to grab it. “Thank you, chef.”

You turn back to Tina, who you now realize has spent half her smoke break on you. She nods to you, and then the bathroom door. “I’ll let you get back to it.” You nod in return. When she turns to walk away, you grab her shoulder.

“Tina.” She turns again. You should say something. Something vulnerable and thankful. Words of affirmation are not your thing. But maybe they could be, “If you end up with a dead plate—” Or maybe not.

She grins, and part of you is concerned by this, but she waves you off, giggling like she knows something you don’t. Already walking off. “You’re gonna be taken care of, Terry, don’t worry.”

This is a bad new nickname scheme. The fridge guy is just gonna end up being called ‘fridge guy’ if you take all his names.

It’s maybe three hours later. 11 am ish. You’ve finally put the toilet back in place, the pipes fixed underground— Which is a huge win of progress, the problem is, it’s just seemed to open the toilet’s ability to have other problems that need to be addressed. There’s a strong chance you’ll be here until you die. And even after that, this stupid toilet will still be gurgling, outliving you.

But you seriously have to eat something, so you scrub yourself clean, set your safety equipment down, and head out of the bathroom for a much-needed stretch of the legs— And to hopefully get a plate from Tina.

On your way to the kitchen, you’re stopped and walked backwards to a booth in the corner by Richie. “Hey, Miss, happy to serve you today, my name’s Richard but you can call me Richie, how’re you doin’ this fine morning?”

They’ve yet to open front of house, so you play along, taking your seat with a laugh. “I’m doing perfect, Richie, how are you?”

He nudges the air . “Ey, better now that you’re here, ah? Can I get a drink started for you?”

“Really gonna practice your set on me?”

He shrugs, still smiling. “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”

You hum, then rub your temples, the headache is setting in— Not cause of him, just been a tough morning. “Just your coldest fuckin’ glass of water, Rich.”

“Right away, Cousin.” He slips off into the kitchen.

When the door swings open again, it’s not Richie coming with your ice water, but Carmen— It’s your first time seeing him since the walk-in. When you came in this morning with Syd, it was Nat that gave you the quick briefing on the schedule and goals for today.

“Tony.” He hums, corners of his mouth just slightly upturned. The nickname has stuck. Goddamn. He sets the water down in front of you, along with a plate— Covered by a cloche—Or the silver lid thing, whatever.

“Carmy.” You only mean to mimic his tone, but then cringe. “Is Carmy fine?”

He pauses mid slide into the booth, sitting across from you. He seemed all cool and collected and is now suddenly extremely caught off guard. Already sweaty. “Y-yeah, I’m better, thank you—”

“No, I meant—” It is so difficult to hold back laughter. You deserve an Oscar.

You’re not doing great to be fair but like, still, Oscar worthy attempt.

“I meant like, like is the nickname okay?”

The horrors just keep piling on his face, and you can’t help but feel guilty. No shit he feels like he’s starting on a lower playing field here. You knew his dead brother, you know his Head Chef, your first time meeting him was at quite possibly his lowest moment and biggest mistake— Of which you had to coax him out of, and now he’s misunderstanding every innocent question you have for a inquiry into his psyche.

He clears his throat for objectively too long of a time. “Carmy is fine. Tony is fine?”

“I’m doing okay, yeah.”

Thank God, he laughs, awkward sure but objectively amused.

You nod down to the covered plate, smiling, “Fuck is this?”

He leans forward in his seat to get a hand over the lid. “I, uh. Made you a thing. As thanks or like, an— an apology.”

Ah. That’s why Tina was laughing about you getting taken care of.

He lifts the lid, and what is revealed, if you weren’t careful, would be enough to make you cry. Thankfully, the shock registers as uproarious laughter, one that Carmen cannot help but join.

“What the fuck?”

Pork brisket sandwich. Something that Mikey made for you, specifically. Because you said one time you were more of a pork fan than beef and he absolutely lost it. In a cute way, though. Said ‘Oh, I’ll make you fuckin’ pork, alright?’ You’re not sure if he won or lost the argument, because you did find it better.

“I, uh, we had some cuts left over that we weren’t gonna be able to fuckin’ use, and uh, Tina showed me this, this recipe card, last night.” He slides over the very same brisket recipe Mikey had written down. Little doodles of angry faces and Xs over pigs in the margins.

“He was so fuckin’ mad.” You snort, looking at it. “All I fuckin’ said was I had a preference!”

“In The Beef!”

“He asked!” You quickly defend, through laughter. “And it tastes fucking good. All he did was prove my fuckin’ point— And spent hours doing it. Were you here overnight for this, slowcooking?”

He shakes his head, though there’s a hesitation in it— So you’re not privy to completely believe him. He sniffs, swiping at his nose “I, uh, just came in early. Had to fix some shit anyways.”

He’s staring at the sandwich, then occasionally you, expectantly. You look at him with equal expectance.

“Well?” You start.

“Well?” He astutely adds.

You nod down at the dish. “Do the thing.”

“The thing?”

You pick up one half of the sandwich, but you’ve got no plans of eating until he satisfies this craving first.

“The thing Syd does where she explains why she’s proud of her dish and why I should care. I know it’s Mikey’s, but you clearly made changes.”

“Oh. Uh…” He was both expecting and not expecting this soap box. “So, followed the rub to a T— Well, with a salt bed, this time. Put it on brioche instead of the old shit. And I uh, added uhm—” He snaps his fingers, staring at the sandwich in your hand. “Added pickled red onion, for acid and sweet, and garlic confit. I’m—I’m happy with my spin on it.”

You whistle as a form of praise, he flushes with a glow of pride and is desperately trying to not show it. He’s proud because it’s curated, personal. Ah, he is Mikey good. You nod and take a bite, trying to control your reaction. Worst part about having Artists as friends (especially chefs): They fucking stare so hard when you’re taking in their work. And they’re over analyzing every micro expression. He’s no different.

Fuck. It’s fucking good. Is it bad that it’s better than anything Mikey ever made? Nah, that’s how he’d want it.

“Ah fuck, that sucks—” Is the first thing you say, and his face falls, “Expensive food is worth it.” Right back up. Easy to please. “It’s really good, Chef. Thank you. Did you try it yet?”

He shakes his head, so you push the plate with the other half of the sandwich— It’s brisket, anyways. You’ll be full by the end of this one. Portions generous. He looks momentarily hesitant, which is cute, but inevitably leans forward and takes the sandwich. He nods with each chew.

He hums when he finishes chewing, pointing emphatically at you, though his voice is neutral. “You don’t like something, though.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with it?” He stares at into the cross section of his bite. “Chewy? Texture?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” You’re quick to deny.

He shakes his head, hand over his mouth to hide the sauce on his mouth. “M’not gonna be hurt.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the dish, Carmen.” You take another bite to prove your point. Also you’re hungry. Two things can be true.

He zones in on the emphasis immediately. “It’s the plate, isn’t it? I told Syd—”

“Your tables aren’t bolted.” You interrupt, swiftly. Mouth semi-full.

“Huh?”

You put your sandwich down and swallow, taking your time with it. “Your booth tables.”

You knock on the pristine wood with the joints of your left hand. You swivel your body to look under the table, he follows suit, meeting you there. His left leg has been violently shaking, but he’s thought you wouldn’t notice it until now.

You put a hand on his knee to stop the shaking. He bristles, slightly, but you’re not even doing it on purpose. Your focus isn’t on him. It was making the table imperceptibly shift— Which, of course, you clocked. You tap your foot to the bottom of the table leg. No screws. “They aren’t bolted down.”

You lift yourself back up, moving your hand back to yourself in tandem. He stares at it for a little longer. How you noticed that, he will never know. Repairmen are a different breed…

“I just thought it was a weird choice. Nothing wrong with it, per say. Maybe you wanna test different layouts.” You shrug, taking another bite.

“The booths aren’t bolted either.” He adds, lifting his head up above the table, finally. “I don’t— we’re not gonna fuck with the layout, I don’t think.”

“Should get Fak on that, then.”

“Fak’s big-timing us.” You cock your brow, mid chew. He explains. “He’s focusing on hosting, f'now.”

You nod, swallowing, hand in front of your mouth so you can lick the sauce off your upper lip in non-humiliated peace. “This another job for me, then?”

“If you’ll take it.”

“If your fuckin’ toilet doesn’t kill me, I will.”

“How’s that going?”

You shake your hand so-so. “Ask me in two to three hours how it’s going.”

“Heard.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth. The stress is too apparent not to ask.

“How’s the second day open going?”

“I’m not in a fuckin’ freezer, so that’s a win.” Oh-ho, he’s acknowledging it. You were very comfortable forgetting that moment for his sake. “Thanks, uh, f’ that.”

You shake your head, shrugging off the thanks. You lift your last few bites of the sandwich to him. “You’re good. You’ve gifted me brisket. You relax since?”

“Not really.” He replies bluntly, taking a deep inhale. He pulls at his face from the top down, with both hands. Oof. Bad sign. “I think I’ll be good by tomorrow. Gonna get off early, tonight.”

“You don’t seem happy about that.”

“Ask me in two t’ three days if I’m happy about it.”

Back to work and this is taking so much fucking longer than it needs to take. Why is there tape there? Fucking Richie. Fucking Fak. Fucking Mikey. Godssake. Pipes are fixed. Water pressure is fixed. What the fuck is still wrong with it? What the fuck is wrong with you? Everyone is going to hate you if you can’t fix this. You’ve been here for like 5 hours and you can’t figure out what’s fucking wrong here? You’re nothing. You’re—

The toilet does you the favour of knocking you out of your episode by spraying you in the fucking face, soaking through the top of your jumpsuit. With a groan, you unzip the upper half and tie the wet sleeves around your waist. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

Maybe you just need a change in task for a second. Also, a new t-shirt, because your tank did not survive the waterworks either. This room isn’t the thing you need right now. You slip down the hall to the kitchen. “Who needs a coffee? Or water?”

There’s a chorus of orders, all of which sound like you’ve just asked ‘who wants a gift from God?’, which, you might as well have. This is what you like about being a handyman. The relief you bring. You just need a smidge of praise to get through the rest of this job. You’ve got this.

The small, but serviceable coffee machine in very back of the kitchen calls your name, but Richie sticks his arm out, blocking you from walking past expo up front.

“Hol’ up, Cousin, you look like a fuckin’ wet dog.”

“Well, what ‘ya gonna do about it?” You retort, despite the retort not honestly making any sense, you put your hands on your hips. “Do you want a fuckin’ coffee or not?”

He rolls his eyes, falling back onto the balls of his feet before walking off. “Ey, Sug, are those shirts still in the basement—”

You’ve won for now. You scrub your hands clean before getting to work. This is good. Oooh, Marcus has fresh coffee beans (that he’s willing to share!)— This is easy. You can already fix most broken things, but a machine that actually fucking works? Baby, you can make that sing.

Plus, the bartending gigs you’ve done don’t make you a barista by any means, but they certainly don’t hurt. Oooh, Marcus has syrups! Fuck it. Steamed and frothed milk. That toilet has you on your ass, you need to go above and beyond here. Make each cup personal. You need a win in the form of admiration.

You gather a tray of coffees (and a water for Sweeps, who is too fucking sweaty for a hot drink right now, so fair), all varying in milks, sugars, syrups, intensity. “Coffee run, I hand ‘em out, don’t just take! Corner!”

Ebra, to no one’s shock, likes his coffee black— But, and he’ll tell no one this, you just know it on instinct— He likes it a little too watery. “Good.” Who are you to judge? He likes what he likes.

Tina would take hers black for simplicity, if you let her, but of course you don’t. 2 sugars, foamed milk, chocolate and cinnamon syrup. “Too good to me.” It’s too worth it, when she says it like that and slaps your cheek. Balm of the soul.

Marcus, who watched you make these, did opt to let his imagination run too wild and added one of every syrup to his own cup, wanting to experiment with you. It doesn’t taste good. You switch it for a spiced coffee when he’s not looking. He’s silently very thankful.

After handing out a few more to the new cooks, you come up to Syd. “Take this one, take this one.” Then whisper, so no one knows you are displaying supreme favouritism. “It’s the one oat milk latte I made.”

She turns to you from her station, then darts looks over her shoulder like she’s making an under the table deal before grabbing it from you. She takes a delighted sip, eyes rolling just slightly in the relief of caffeine, she nods. “Fire, Chef.” Ah. This will get you through the day alone.

It also gets you through the willpower it takes to ignore Fak running by you to steal a coffee off your tray. Out of the corner of your eye, you point to the one meant for him— As if you didn’t make it for him, c’mon…

“How’s bathroom?” Syd asks, taking another long sip.

I’m going to fucking explode, not unlike your drainage pipe. “Needed a thinking break, but I’ve made a lot of progress. How’s kitchen?”

“Made a lot of progress. Auto-piloting through this prep.” She looks down at her cutting board, cracking back to it. “Latte helps, a lot, thank you. You should join for family, if you’re still here for it. Unless you don’t want more brisket.”

Fuck. She doesn’t think you’re so slow that you’re gonna be here until family, does she? “Yeah, maybe.” You look around, three coffees still on the tray. “...Where’s Carmen?”

She grimaces. Uh oh. The tension she glossed over at breakfast is still definitely there. She nods her head to the back door. “Smoke break. Or temper tantrum. I don’t fuckin’ know. Don’t tell him I said that.” You laugh, nodding. “You think a coffee would help—” “Please.”

“Corner!” Yells Richie, returning to you. He silently flicks out a shirt for you, holding it up proudly, ‘THE BERF’ stares back at you. You give it a solid five seconds to process before you say anything.

“Collector’s item...” You nod, tone sarcastically impressed. You pivot your shoulder for him to throw it over, hands too busy.

“That’s what I fuckin’ said!” He throws it over your shoulder. “No one fuckin’ listens, these days.”

You bite back laughter and nod, handing him his coffee. Hot. Dark. Two sugars. And, to his delighted surprise, a touch of cinnamon syrup. “Oh, fuck, missed your twists, Chip.”

You wince at what was a long-forgotten nickname, and so does Richie. Funny how remembering origins can do that to you. He’d just said it so instinctively, really. “My bad—”

“Chip is good.” You interrupt, rolling your shoulders back. And it is good, really. “It’s kinda—It’s kinda comforting.” It’s nice to not forget. He nods, and you give each other the ‘we are still so fucked, eh?’ smile before lovingly bumping shoulders as he returns to expo and you head to the back alley.

Carmen’s squatting, cigarette in one hand, creating a halo of smoke around him, and his phone in the other. He snaps out of his mental fog when the door opens, slipping his phone into the pocket of his apron like he’s got a secret to hide.

You hesitate at the doorway, maybe this is not the moment. “Sorry, Chef, I just wanted to offer a coffee? If you need air alone—”

“No, no, I’m good—” He’s quick to correct, then even quicker to correct himself. “I— I’ll take a coffee, I mean. You can stay, s’fine.”

He reaches for it when you sit next to him, but you pull the tray back to hand him the correct one. “Sorry, I—I like, did a thing, for yours. I dunno how you take your coffee, so I thought I’d do it weird.”

He takes the cup, eying it curiously. “Do it weird?”

“Do it like, like a Chef. Can’t make anything fuckin’ simple. The lot of you.”

He hums, amused, staring at the cup, then looks at you expectantly. “Well?”

“Well?”

“Do the thing.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Oh, fuck off.”

“C’mon, tell me why I should care.” He teases.

“Ah, fuck.” You sniff, oh to have your own words turned on you. Looking at the coffee in his hands, “I figured you’d like strong black coffee, but like, complex. So, it’s got like, cardamom and lavender n’ maple syrup. Shout out Marcus.” He smiles. “And then, I know I did just say black coffee but I wanted the aesthetic so I spooned foamed milk on top and sprinkled on some dried lavender.” You take your own cup in hand, putting the tray down. “If you hate it, we’ll trade.”

He pays close attention to your explanation. Man, his eye contact is simultaneously so soft and so scary. He takes a sip. Let’s it sit in his mouth for a second. “Excellent, Chef.”

Oh, if Syd’s ‘Fire’ could get you through the day, Carmen’s ‘Excellent’ will get you through the week to spare. You hide the way you beam by drinking your own coffee.

“How’re you doing?” It’s far too obvious that he’s had something heavy on his head all day, but you’re not going to say the quiet part loud, yet.

He takes a long time to respond. “I, uh…” And when he does, it’s weak. “I’m alright, yeah. I’m alright.”

You nod repeatedly, digesting the huge lie. “Ask me how I’m doing.”

He squints. “…How’re you—”

“Fuckin’ terrible, Carm.” You cut him off, putting your cup down next to him, standing up. You speak emphatically, gesturing with your whole body.

“I’m at my wits, Chef. Completely out of my depth. I fix the main pipe, I fix the water pressure, I triple check the tank, I fuckin’ power cycle the valve— I’m absolutely at a loss as to why it’s still gurgling— Why it shot water straight at my tits— Close your eyes, if you care, by the way.”

With barely any warning you peel off your tank top, you’ve got a bra, it’s fine. It’s very cute that he still looks away. You slip the new shirt over your head as you speak, muffling the words.

“—I’m wearing a shirt that says Berf, and the only way I can feel any semblance of not being utterly useless is by making coffees so good everyone has to praise me for them. And now I’m telling the fucking owner, my boss for the day all this.”

He nods, slowly. There is perhaps, not a single person in his life that has ever been this forthright. Someone he hasn’t had to over-analyze or dig into to figure out what’s actually going on. It is refreshing, terrifying, and for some reason, removing your walls have completely shattered his.

“So.” You lower your head to his level where he sits. “How are you doing, Chef?”

He takes a long sip of his coffee. Stews on the question before he spills his guts, calmly. “I’m sitting outside of the restaurant I started that I own, and my brother should be here, but he’s not and— And I was locked in a fuckin’ freezer on my opening night, which was my own fuckin’ fault— And the tape is wrong and the painting is stupid and that new hire did meth so now we’re down one.” He takes a deep breath.

“And we have Heinz instead of Frenchies, and it’s fine. That’s the fucked part— It’s fine. The ship did not sink without me— It went fine. Better, maybe. My problems aren’t fuckin’ problems. I’m just making it worse for myself— everyone. And I know Syd is mad at me, and I know my— My girlfriend? Is mad at me, and I know that I’m gonna break up with her tonight because I’m not meant to be— that.” He says the last part fast, more to himself than you, really. And then he finally looks back up at you.

“And I’m telling all of this to the person who saved me from hypothermia and a fuckin’—Fuckin’ meltdown, who probably thinks— knows that I’m a psycho.”

You take a beat before nodding, sitting next to him again, arms crossed. Silent. Contemplative. “I have thoughts.”

He nods, taking a drag. “Don’t pull punches.”

“Well, to start most honestly, we must remember, I love Syd. So, I’m not gonna mince about her.”

“Heard.”

You recall everything Sydney had told you at breakfast. The recap of how she got to this point. “Syd isn’t mad at you, she’s disappointed and distrustful.”

He grimaces. “That sounds worse.”

“It is.”

“Oh.”

“But in a way you can fix.”

“How?”

“Handle shit different. Actually show up to shit and make calls. Manage your priorities by urgency— Not by favourites. If I broke my fuckin’ arm and your ‘girlfriend’ had a runny nose, who are you taking to the hospital?”

“You can’t take yourself?”

“Bitch?”

“Kidding. Heard. What else?”

“You’re not gonna tell her I said this because she would rather die than tell someone she wants something.” You lean closer to him, peeking over your shoulder to make sure no one’s secretly come from the kitchen. You knock into his knees.

He takes another drag, short, choked. “Sure.”

“You were kind of a bitch about the menu.”

“The chaos menu? She said—”

“She fucking lied. She lied when she said it was fine, Carm, it does not take a psychic to read Syd’s mind.” You interrupt, taking a sip of your coffee. “She was so excited to get to build a menu, especially with—” you, “—a partner, and then you completely ditched her. And then you just made your own! Total control freak shit! Cut her out of the fun part of being head chef completely! You get to invent masterpieces and she picks out the best cheap plate? Fuck is that?”

He nods contemplatively, poking his inner cheek. “Yeah, that, that makes sense. That’s shitty.” He turns his gaze from looking ahead to face you, hand over the bottom half of his face. “What else?”

“You’re reactive.”

“No shit.”

“How long do you think you were locked in the walk-in for?”

He swallows, thinking. “Like… an hour?”

“It had been 23 minutes.”

“Oh.”

“You catastrophize, it’s a fancy therapy word,” You cannot help but be impressed by this white man writing down the word in his phone for later. “It means, basically, when something bad happens you blow it completely out of proportion into something it isn’t. Your opening night was definitely a bummer from being in a freezer— But be honest with yourself, would you have let yourself have a good night if you weren’t in there?”

“…No.”

“No. Which is also bad. Which brings me to my key point.”

He tenses up, preparing for you to rip into him further.

“You’re doing a good job, Carmy.”

He immediately swivels back to you, almost dropping his phone. Knee knocking into yours. “Fuck off.”

“I will not.”

“You just said I was a catastrophe.”

“Fully not what I said.”

“I read between the lines.”

“Carmen.”

You take a breath, putting your arms on your knees, bent over. “The restaurant is beautiful, your cooks are talented and they’re prepared— So prepared that they can handle 23 minutes without you. That’s a good thing. You’re threaded into The Bear— The ship didn’t sink, not because you weren’t there, but because you had been. Everyone had the tools they needed to succeed, even with Heinz, a Mid painting, and torn tape. And listen—” You take one last sip of your coffee. “You need to check your ego if you think you’re the first man I’ve coaxed through a panic attack while doing a repair.”

He laughs, half-heartedly. He scratches his nose. “Heard. Yeah, thank you, Chef.”

“I don’t know shit about the meth thing though, I really couldn’t tell you.” You smile when this coaxes a better laugh out of him. You’re considering a career in stand up exclusively for him because it feels like such a reward to hear it.

“And the girl?” He asks. Amusement tinging but leaving his voice.

You click your teeth, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Based purely on your hesitation to say girlfriend, I’d say yeah, probably not ready for a relationship.” You reach your hand out to his shoulder when he flops his head down. “But, just asking, is this your first relationship?”

He thinks for too long before nodding slightly. “First one.”

“First restaurant too?”

He nods again.

“Yeah.” You pat his shoulder before letting it go, opting to hold your cooling cup. “I know you’re a Michelin star fuckin’ big deal but like, me personally, I can’t name a thing I got perfect the first time I did it.”

There’s something in his eyes, when you say that. Something wistful, nostalgic, hurt? No. Something different.

“It’s not that I didn’t do perfect—”

“You’ll do better next time.”

He wrings his hands together between his knees. “Yeah.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Carm.”

“You’re good at that.” He sniffs, head down, scratching his nose.

“At what? Self-help?”

He exhales what just barely sounds like a laugh. “Kinda. S’just, when you say it, you say it in a way where I actually believe it.”

You’re getting the fuck out of here before they open for dinner. You’re not letting anyone down tonight motherfucker. The Berf shall prevail. Maybe a win here will feel like a win for Carmen, too.

You run the sink to wash your hands, as you’ve done before here— But since fixing the pipes and the pressure… Something’s… different. You pause your scrubbing, listening closely.

…

When the sink is running, the gurgling flow of water from the toilet stops. Huh. You stop and start the faucet a few times to verify this. Yeah. You stare for a long moment before connecting the dots, then punch the sink in realization.

“Fucking Mikey!”

“What’d he do this time?”

You twist around. Ah, other sibling. Natalie. Clipboard in hand, business ready. You take a beat before remembering to smile, nodding to the sink behind you. “He connected the tank flow to the toilet and the sink with one wire.”

She tilts her head, squinting. “Why would he do that?”

“I suspect to save water?” You spin around, kneeling down to look behind the sink. “I think the idea was to have the sink not function when the toilet is flushing. But, it uh, well, did the reverse, kinda. Toilet doesn’t function when the sink isn’t running.”

“Oh.”

“So uh,” You shut the valve under the sink. “Your water bill should go down a little after this, since it won’t be running into what is an essentially a second trap pipe.”

“Oh!” Did she get what you said? No. But she doesn't need to. She heard ‘bill should go down’ and that’s really all she needed. “Thank you!”

“Not a problem. S’my job.” You stand, shutting off the valve to the toilet as well. As you kneel down to work again, you feel her gaze burning into your back. You don’t turn to face her. “You have questions.”

“Oh, ah… Am I so obvious—?”

“Yes.” You’re too quick to answer, unbolting the wires where it attaches to the toilet and the ground. You sniff with a panicked, “Ah, uh, it’s endearing.”

She’s quiet, for a moment. She doesn’t ask you what she actually wants to ask you, and you know that. “Well, I’ll need to exchange info for your invoice.”

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout that, your brother already covered it.” You stand once more, before going to the sink to undo it’s valve, you fish through the deep pocket of your jumpsuit, pulling out a crumpled business card and handing it to her.

“But it’s good to have my info on hand, for sure. It’s ah… Kinda old.” Kinda is an understatement. Your dad’s name is still on it, scribbled out in pen and replaced with yours. The dead business line is also scribbled out in exchange for your personal cell.

“It’s uh… I usually only work for friends and family, these days, so I’ve kinda stopped trying to keep up appearances.”

She smiles at it. Thank God, she finds it charming and not sloppy. She tucks it into the clasp of her clipboard. “That’s fine, we are friends and family.”

All you can do is nod, pivoting to the sink. There's a beat of peace.

“Didn’t see you at the funeral.”

Ah. There it is. For a Bear, she sure knows how to poke one. You stutter in unscrewing the bolt.

“Would’ve been nice to meet you, then.”

You clear your throat, it's strangled. “Yeah, I think I was trying to avoid introductions, honestly. Grief comes in different ways, eh?”

“Does it?”

“Mine does.” You swallow, unbolting the wire. With it free, you can just yank it out of the wall. God, forgive your brain, but Mikey was right, she does like to fight. Too bad you don’t.

She just hums in reply, watching you pull the wire from the wall. “You’re a real lifesaver.”

Fuck. Fuck. Lifesaver? Is she fucking with you?

“That toilet sprayed me right in the face, yesterday. And you saved Carmen.” There’s an amused lilt to her voice. She’s not fucking with you. “There’s something about a handywoman that Fak cannot match.”

You can hear a faint ‘Hey!’ through the walls. You laugh through an exhale.

“Again, s’my job. I do my best. Did uh, what was it, Terry come by for the walk-in? I wasn’t looking when I was there.”

You sort through your tools, deciding caulking the holes closed is probably the best option.

“He came over basically overnight to fix it, bless him, still don’t know his name.”

You laugh, it’s a little strangled. So Carmen did stay overnight. He must’ve. You smooth out the caulk with your thumb and a palette knife. Blending it into the grout as best as you can. “Good. Good.”

You dust yourself off. Standing. “Well. That’s uh. That’s my job done. Carmen asked me about—”

“Bolting down the booths?” She nods, checking the time on her watch. There’s not enough time before lunch to do it now. Plus you don’t have the screws. “You’re free to come by in the morning tomorrow—”

“But?” You interrupt, throwing your tool bag over your shoulder.

“But?”

“You said free like you’ve got a preference, what do you prefer?”

She chuckles, slightly. There is something about you that feels familiar. “If you could come after close tonight around 12, that would be nice—”

“It’s done. I’ll be there.”

“Lifesaver. I'll give you the code.”

Fuck.

Always gotta give the reader/mc some sort of mysterious background that even you don't have all the info on. Always.

Hehehehe, again, we're slowing this burn so much. Strangers to Friends to lovers but they're both so comfortable in friends it's hard to move !!

Forewarning, btw, if you've already sunk 10k worth of words into your brain for me (thank you!! I hope you've enjoyed!!), I've never written smut before and I feel like I probably will not build up the courage to do so by the end of this series, but I could prove myself wrong, I dunno. But warning in case that's your thing!! I might blue ball you babe!!

Pretty please tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my Berf shirt. Collector's value!! Thrown away!!

[kujiba]

★MAY THE LAND CONCEAL YOU, DEAR GRACE

PART ONE/ PART TWO

୨୧ — ꒰ gn!reader | they/them prounouns | Sagau | cultish behavior

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n: yay! We're finally getting into the very first arc. I might start a new series but eh, who knows. Anyway enjoy reading

୨୧ — ꒰[Tags] @resident-cryptid

YOUR EYES COULDN'T BELIEVE IT - delicate and soft footsteps walked in the cobble flooring of the prestige city; (e/c) eyes glimmer around the stalls and towering buildings. Mondstadt definitely lives up to its titled name as the land of freedom, for every step you take, every second that passes by is surely not a quiet one infact.

One of your destined dreams turning into real life felt like bliss - you couldn't help but feel ecstatic on what the future lies ahead for you in the unordinary situation you find yourself in.

Yet.. Even for such a joyful moment, why do you feel entrapped and suffocated? You could feel eyes digging deep onto your back as it only doubled to your discomfort. You weren't supposed to feel like this, you're living your dream yet what is with this abnormal reaction? Paranoid with yourself, you quickly fled to a nearby alleyway to arrange your thoughts.

In there, you took control of your breathing, the surroundings around you begun to turn disoriented. You shook your head in disagreement "No...I must just be having a headache from the crowds" you mumbled to yourself, rubbing the sides of your head - you then continued your way in the city of Mondstadt after having calmed your thoughts and body down.

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

Later on, you found yourself sitting down on one of the chairs in a food hub called "Good Hunter". You were well aware of what this place is - infact, you felt like you've done this thousands of times even if you just played through a screen.

You didn't quite expect that feeling of yours earlier, expectations didn't reach what you had thought would lead to. You were supposed to be happily strolling around mondstadt - so why are you just sitting here rearranging your thoughts again? "Agh...I'll just sit here for a bit, yeah that's alright.." Mumbling those words to yourself, you took a deep breath to calm your body down.

Eventually after about 10 minutes of sitting, you heard a small grumble from your stomach. 'Ah right, Im starving..' you suppress to yourself; sure you ate some (alot) sunsettia's earlier but that didn't seem to satisfy your stomach. Fortunately for you, the place you were resting at was a food hub!. Standing up from your seat, you made your way up to the counter to order some cuisine for that grumbling tummy of yours.

"Welcome To Good Hunter. Can I take your order?" A brunette lady with a neatly tied up ponytail on the other side of the counter question's. Her eye's lingered on the out line's of your body, taking in every detail and curve. "Uh....can I have uh.." Your voice trailed off, thinking of something to order from the menu. Until, you remembered one thing you'd always cook for your character's in game. "May I have one Sweet Madame please?" You asked, giving her a small smile.

The woman was dazed for a moment after you gave her a smile, seemingly gawking into your (e/c) pupils. It took a while till you cleared your throat "Ahem.. Is everything alright?" You questioned her, still keeping your smile but had a hint of concern.

"Oh! Uhm yes, one Sweet Madame. Please sit while I prepare your food" She hastily replied, quickly turning around she returned back to the counter furthermore fumbling around with some seasonings and kitchen knives.

You sat back down on your chair briefly leaning back on it whilst patiently awaiting for your food to arrive, your mouth just watered at the thought of eating it. And boy are you excited! Tasting many wonderful foods from your favorite games is just wonderful! A dream you wish to never leave this place...Until a realization hitted you like a truck.

You have no money here. Absolutely 0

A previous dream turned into a Nightmare; patting your pockets repeatedly you began to panic internally, you can't just take the food and dip! Well you actually can, but you definitely can't handle the consequences of it! No way you're going to already have a horrible situation just after you stepped inside the city.

So how the hell are you gonna pay without any mora!? The gods or whoever brought you here CLEARLY didn't gift you with any starter materials. You cursed In your head, thinking of ways to legally get out of the situation you were in. "Shit what do I do?! I can't just go 'oh I don't have any money because I'm from a different world and got transferred here. Heck no!" Your eyes scanned the surrounding area, looking for an idea or way to not make the situation any more complicated.

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

A Honey-roasted fowl sat on your wooden table. The honey and sweet flowers come together to compliment the tender fowl meat. It's aroma as delicate and delicious as it looks. As of in the game it can restore 22% of Max HP and an additional 1,200 HP to the selected character.

A brunette maid stood by your side, a bill on her hands. Her expression looked rather concerned about you "Uhm.. Are you alright?" She asked examining your face. All that showed on you was defeat, like you've just got jumped by the opps.

"Well.. Aha.. So it might seem crazy what i'm gonna say.." You nervously chuckled, not making eye contact with the brunette and only facing the ground. Your eyes failed to notice another brunette woman walking to your table, her appearance seems similar to somebody you've previously met just moments ago..

"Heya! Mind if I sit down with you?" She politely asked, soon noticing the maid next to you she smiled slowly "I got it cover boss, I'll have one Sweet Madame too please." the brunette then took some mora from her pocket and gave it to the server, pleased by the girls payment she returned back to her stall to make another sweet madame.

Silence crept around both of you; you of course knew who she was but was to afraid to strike up a conversation. "Oh damn... What should I do?.." you pondered, avoiding any necessary eye contact with the brunnete. For her, she seemed to be doing the exact opposite of you. Her hazel pupils gazed upon parts of your physique; She seemed to be admiring your frame which made it furthermore awkward.

Clearing your throat, the brunette immediately got back into reality and looked back at you with her eyes. You gave her a small smile "Uhm well, Thank you for paying for me miss.." "AMBER." She replied back, a bit delighted to tell you her name "It's really nothing. You seem to be passing by?" she question's, you answer by giving her a nod.

"Why yes, Mondstat is one of my dream places to visit" You weren't technically lying to her, outside the screen. You did want to try and live in mondstat, just imagining it felt like paradise for you.

Amber seemed ecstatic when you mentioned how mondstadt is your dream places to visit "Why don't I give you a tour later then (Name)?" She offered to you, you were mentally so happy she offered it to you. So without hesitating you answered in a heart beat "Of course!"

Wait. Did you ever give her your name? You probably did. You just forgot

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

The world happiness couldn't even describe what you were feeling right now, by your side was THE Outrider Amber of genshin impact showing you around the city. The buildings were alot taller than you had thought, but the best part was being able to see the statue of Barbatos! You felt like you were going to pass out on how unreal it felt!

But alas the tour was coming to an end. Fortunately, Amber had suggested for you to go visit the KNIGHTS OF FAVONIUS; An order responsible for protecting Mondstadt and its belief of freedom. You were of course, very cheerful by her offer! So here were the two of you. Standing in the doors of the KNIGHTS OF FAVONIUS.

"Woah.. Is it really okay for a normal person like me inside here?" you questioned her, eyes gazing at the gigantic bronze door infront of you. Amber opened her mouth to giggle "Why of course! Everyone is welcome here. Come, I'll show you inside! " Quickly opening the two doors, the inside of the building was even finer than what you've had imagined.

Polished tiles surrounded the flooring, complimenting the small plants placed upon the sides of the doors for a more appealing and modern look. Trained knights standing firm and straight with a neutral expression on their face. Still, you could vaguely see them attempting to try and catch a glimpse of you, occasionally turning their eyes to take a better view of your appearance. You did not mind one bit, since you've understood that they just might be analyzing you if you are a possible threat.

"Come! I'll show you inside one of the rooms!" Amber ushered, taking your wrist gently with one of her hands and leading you to a door. Thrusting the doors open, the surrounding room were packed with layers and layers of books, seemingly to be endless opportunities of knowledge and experience.

As you began to look over the room, your (e/c) eyes laid upon a fairly tall woman with lime green eyes and long light brown tied in a side ponytail by a hair tie with a blue rose. Her outfit is largely many shades of purple. Just by the sight of her you could tell who she was already; LISA is a librarian who works in this library, and one of the few characters you achieve for free for unlocking more experience and leveling up in the game.

Her forest green eyes gazed around the room and stopped when she had spotted you, her expression seemed to be of slight suprise but nonetheless, she composed herself and began walking up to the two with her signature smile

"Why hello there cuties, what brings you here?" She question's, stopping in her tracks following with crossing her arms around her lower chest

Amber smiled gleefully, still taking a hold of your wrist with her hand and replying to Lisa "They're a passing traveler who wanted to adventure into the city! I offered to give them a tour and they gladly accepted!" Her answer holds alot of excitement and happiness.. So much so that she's gripping onto your wrist very tightly.

You soon grew uncomfortable by her grip on your wrist, but didn't want to ruin the two women's mood and vibe, so you kept it to yourself for now. It must be because she's exceedingly happy right?

Lisa lightly laughed at the brunettes excitement "Now, now.." She took hold of Amber's hand that was holding onto your wrist and pulled it apart, her eyes not breaking eye contact with Amber "Why don't you calm yourself down, Amber?" She says giving a closed eyed smile. Amber immediately realized her actions and turned to you "...Sorry, haha. I guess i let my emotions get the better of me, I promise you I won't let it happen again" Her previous dissapointed expression shifted to one that looked more relaxed.

"Oh! Right, you must not know her right?" Amber pointed her thumb to Lisa who was standing infront of the two, her smile still plastered on her face, she cleared out her throat "Don't worry, I'll introduce myself to this cutie..my name is Lisa Minci, the librarian of the knights of favonius, I hope we get along very well." her smile was off putting at first but you brushed it off.

"Nice to meet you Ms. Lisa! My name is (Name), I'll be very happy with my time in mondstat" You extended your hand to give Lisa a handshake, to your suprise Lisa without hesitating also took your hand for a handshake. Her eyes focused on the base of your hand whilst Amber stared at you two.

You laughed awkwardly. you and Lisa shaked hands a few times before parting ways for now, you felt an ominous aura behind you once you turned your back to leave the library. You for sure wasn't going back in there for a bit.

As the two of you walked in the halls of the Knights of favonius guild, Amber stopped infront of a door. "How about we go ahead and meet the grandmaster, Jean?" She said still having a gleeful energy. You nodded, seeing no harm in meeting her. The plot won't magically change right? In here your just an NPC and the main side characters always interact with NPC's and go on with their day. Nothing can go wrong, right?.

Amber opened the doors, a small creeking sound as it slowly began to open up. Inside the room where stacked with shelves of books, in there, the back center of the room had a women in blonde dressed formal sitting down on a chair with a fairly sized table. The table had stacks and stacks of papers seemingly to be endless.

Only when amber cleared her throat did the blonde notice the two people standing near the door, she quickly composed herself and looked directly at amber, you've noticed how the blonde has not even noticed you in the room yet (you're standing right besides amber wtf).

"Good morning to you, Amber. What brings you here?" The blonde woman asked, sitting upright on her chair while awaiting the brunettes answer "Good to see you, Acting Grandmaster JEAN!" Amber replied casually, "Meet (Name)!, they' were just passing by. We sure do get loads of visitors after the Traveler(AETHER) had left to go to Liyue huh?" The brunette smiled brightly, her hand infront of you faced flat.

Jean, if not for amber she would have never even noticed your presence in the room. You on the other hand had something else in mind, 'I wonder which traveler is the one they're talking about... I'm fine with either one of the twins'

You collectively thought to yourself, a smile on your face as you could barely wait! Just meeting the MC makes your stomach get butterflies. Jean seemed to be staring at you for quite a bit, but you had not noticed once since you were daydreaming in your head.

Jean cleared her throat which made you immediately snap back to reality, raising your head slightly you made eye contact with her ocean blue pupils, she didn't look like she was going to take her eyes off you anytime soon...

".. (Name), was it?" Jean asked, leaning on her desk. Without hesitating you nodded your head "Yes, that's me.. Is there anything you want to ask?" You asked her in an awkward tone, the vibe in the room had shifted significantly. You didn't like it one bit.

She locked her eyes onto yours and smiled "No... But let me ask you one thing" The blonde stood up from her seat and slowly walked in front of her table "Where did you come from exactly?" She asked, crossing her arms on her chest. Amber also was curious to know, her hazel eyes looking at you with curiosity.. But to you, it felt like two predators were piercing their eyes onto your every limb, you felt awkward, confused, and most off all. ANXIOUS

Just one word, one word that's even remotely suspicious and it's game over for you. But why did you feel panicked and anxious? The Traveler was also a other worlder, the characters stared at him/her with adoration and kindness. Why is it the opposite for you?

A feeling wrecked your inner self, INSTINCT. Instinct told you the moment you accidentally reveal your situation is the moment your doom will begin to tower over your shadow, devouring you whole for the mistake you had made. And only then, will you escape from the pain you've brought upon yourself.

"I.. I came from.." You were lost for words, you could just tell them you lived in liyue, sumeru, Fontaine or any other region in Teyvat. So why do they stare at you with such hostile and loathing looks? You gulped down your saliva and clutched your other wrist with your hand "I traveled here from liyue.. I like to visit other regions and find more of their culture and traditions"

Your voice sounded awkward, but it was the only words you could spew out in the moment. You could still feel their gaze observing your every move and twitch, they never took their eyes off you for a long while.

As silence filled the room, Jean and Amber looked at each other for a couples of seconds and nodded, Jeans gaze on you began to soften up "I see, well then. I welcome you to mondstadt, we will be more than happy to have you here" Jean casually said having her hand on her hip as amber gleefully clapped her hands.

"Welcome To mondstadt! I'll be sure to show you only the best." Amber talked to you with such excitement and happiness. You couldn't process what was happening, since the mood had shifted to normal again. You were only relieved to have your body and mind at peace again....

! ! !

INSTINCT is an inborn impulse or motivation to action typically performed in response to specific external stimulus, ADRENALINE is a hormone secreted by the adrenal glands, especially in conditions of stress, increasing rates of blood circulation, breathing, and carbohydrate metabolism and preparing muscles for exertion.

Two things a human body does when faced with a threat around their surroundings, the human body will begin to feel such things. You felt your body beginning to rush as your heart beat began to slowly get faster, something was definitely behind you.

You turned your head quickly, but only saw a pair of black gloves reaching out to grab your face, and before you know it, you were out on the floor. Your vision began to darken at a fast pace, as all you could only do is lay motionless on the cherry colored carpet.

Two silhouettes towered over you whilst you were on the ground, holding your arms and legs, they began to drag your body on the hard ground.

☆☆☆

(e/c) eyes slowly began fluttering open, your pupils beginning to open once again. "Ugh... Where am I.." you groaned. Your head was throbbing like crazy, giving you migraines that just added more into the pain. Your hand trailed up to the sides of your head and began to slowly massage it to ease up the aching.

After some seconds, you had fully composed your body. The room you were in was more darker and you could barely even tell what was in your surrounding areas, only feeling the cold flooring from below you.

You attempt to try and recall what had happened but it only furthered increase the aching. You could only sigh to yourself and lean your body back on the wall, in the room you were stuck in 'So this is how I'll be spending my time. Stuck in a dark and cold room, great. ' you thought to yourself, hugging your knees closer to your chest and body to be able to create warmth.

"Just my luck.. When things were just going great another misfortune happened" talking to yourself was the only thing keeping you entertained for now, as you begin to spiral deeper into your thoughts you started to wonder, Why did I get transported here?

In your life at earth you didn't make any shocking changes to the world like making cures or any of that. You were just some person who liked to play games...

Wait

Surely enough the gods or whoever transmitted you here would be benevolent enough to gift you some kind of system or powers right? If this was not just a coincidence you might as well treat your situation like a manwha.

Clearing your throat you quietly mumbled 'System'.....And to no suprise nothing worked. "Uhh... Abrakadabra? Arise? Info?" you tried words that could possibly trigger that non existing system that you are hanging on for dear life. Maybe because of the silence around you that makes you start to go delusional and crazy.

Countless tries yet none were working (Obviously) "Man.. I knew I should've eaten more food, I'm starting to go crazy at this point.. Seriously miss the noise around. It just seems like something had turned off the sound in settings"

You groggily lowered your head down accompanying with silent murmurs coming from your mouth. Unbeknownst to you, a glowing blue screen began appearing infront of you, as you began to lift your head your (e/c) eyes began to shrink from shock as a text was plastered right in front of you.

CHOOSE AN ELEMENT! : PYRO, CRYO, DENDRO, ELECTRO, HYDRO, GEO, ANEMO

"WAIT WHAT!?"

A/n: very sorry for the delay and how late the chapter is. Advance apologies if the chapter did not meet your expectations. School is a pain and taking most of my time.

Nonetheless Hope you enjoyed, please let me know if you want to get tagged in the next chapters.

[fanfiction4sooya]

Cry for me (Dahyun x f! Reader)

Something short because I lost my imagination somewhere today but I didn't wanna leave y'all once again. Hope some of you like it!! 💖💖💖

cw: manipulation, toxic behavior, dacryphilia, fingering, cheating, scissoring, squirting, etc

"Mrs. Kim?" You picked up your phone, swallowing hard the lump that formed in your throat.

"I'll pick you up at 6pm" Her voice sounded calm, collected. "I know you'll wear something pretty" Classy. She hung up.

You were having some sort of emotional affair with the wife of your dad's best friend, Kim Dahyun. She was older than you but still way too young for him, and way too pretty too. You two started going out after she caught a few compromising messages on his phone, which turned out to be the kick starter for you two after you saw her crying on a family dinner.

You liked her, you definitely did, but she was a married woman and the mixed signals were too much for you to handle.

She never touched you, not once. But the lingering stares, the smile, the jealousy whenever she thought you had someone else... Of course that would mess up the hearts of young girls such as yourself.

You would never act on it, you weren't brave enough but oh, you wanted to.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

"Hi" You smiled, getting in the car. Her demeanor was serious and she looked gorgeous as always, which made you a bit more nervous. You two were wearing dresses: you wore something more flowy as she wore a skin tight black dress.

She faintly smiled and your heart dropped a bit; you didn't like that one bit.

Since the beginning you never really knew what to expect from her; coldness or affection, a hug or a slight shove. She would pull you close, close enough to feel her at your reach, just to push you away again.

"We need to talk" She stopped the car under a few trees at the empty parking lot in front of her building. It was a cold night and you hugged yourself for a moment, wondering why you didn't get a jacket. Oh yeah, you were nervous. "let's go in" Dahyun got out of the car, motioning for you to follow and so you did.

Her hourglass figure, ever so tempting, felt even more mouth drying each step she took away from you; her hips swayed from side to side and your heart beat quickened at that. You knew she wanted nothing with you and that it was one sided; You had nothing to offer her except your shoulder for her to cry on, but still that little bit of hope stayed there, like a match lit in the darkness of an empty room.

"Sit" She motioned for you to sit on her expensive couch and you could feel your heartbeat in your ears, anxiety eating your insides as she went to the kitchen to grab two wine glasses and something that seemed more expensive than yourself.

"What do you wanna talk about, Mrs. Kim?" You lightly said, looking at your own glass as you sipped a bit of the bitter content of it. You hated alcohol, but you liked Dahyun, so of course you'd make an effort.

"I can't do this anymore" She said, her gaze lowered to her lap. Your heart sank.

"D-do what?" You tried to ask in a calm tone but that lump in your throat was back.

"This" She looked at you. "Have you around is... affecting me" She took a shallow breath, straightening her back. "You are not good for me" She sounded unsure, but that was cruel. "It's too much"

Tears prickled your eyes and you can't even recall when the first tear fell, but you didn't care.

"Why? What did I do?" You asked and she shook her head, looking to the other side. "I can change whatever you need me to change" You said as desperation flooded your voice. "Tell me what do you need me to be, I-" You stopped what you were saying as you realized how her eyes shifted to you, her breath quickening a slight bit as you caught her attention. "I'm sorry-I"

"Come here" She demanded with a calm tone. Uncertainty sank in a bit but you still did as she told sitting right beside her in the couch, heart beating wildly inside your chest. She touched your cheek and you leaned on her touch with your eyes closed, starving for that contact since the first time you met her crying in that kitchen. "Why do you need to make it so difficult for me?" She held your chin and you opened your eyes, big and doe to stare at her beautiful face.

"I am sorry Mrs. Kim, please..." You grabbed her hand in yours as if you were praying for her. "Please don't push me away, just this once, please..." You hugged her hand against your chest and she hissed. "I need you, please"

"God..." Dahyun said, not even letting a curse fall from her sacred lips. "How must one resist you?" She eyed you up and down, slowly reaching her free hand on your cheek again. "I shouldn't" She hushed and you closed your eyes.

"Please I'll do whatever you need" You sounded so pathetic and humiliated, so eager to please her. Kneeling in front of her expensive and pale figure with tears in your eyes you started kissing her thighs over the tight black dress she was wearing, your breath shallow as you tried your best to fight back the tears.

"Wait, stop" She pushed you by the shoulders, her touch burning you. "That is not what I want" She said, holding your chin so you could look into her eyes. "I am tired of being on the receiving end" She whispered, somewhat hurt but her own thoughts as her breath fanned over your lips. "I wanna set the pace for once in my god damn life" she said through gritted teeth, kissing you next.

Her kiss was demanding, hungry. A big contrast with her reserved personality and angel-like figure. She held you by the waist, pulling you up to straddle her lap, her tongue massaging yours in a controlled kiss as her other hand tangled in your beautiful hair to hold your head where she wanted it to be.

"Mrs. Kim..." You breathed out when she bit your collarbone, sucking a dark spot there.

"Tell me..." She pulled you by the hair to look at her, that serious demeanor and big pupils making your clit pulse inside your underwear. "Plead for me" Her other hand travelled to the front of your panties, touching you there. You opened your lips to say something but you only managed to choke a moan, grabbing her shoulders for support.

"Mrs. Kim, Dahyun-" You started saying but she yanked you by the hair, anger flashing in her eyes.

"You'll address me as Mrs. Kim" she bit your lips, pulling your panties to the side and easing two digits in one go inside you. "Do you understand?" Dahyun breathed out, almost losing herself in how good it felt to be inside you. "I needed this so badly" She closed her eyes, moving her fingers fast against your gspot as your vision went completely blurry.

"Mrs. Kim, please, don't stop" you babbled, eyes closed. "Don't leave me" you opened your eyes to meet hers and she smiled; lascivious, obscene... Sinful.

"There you go" She fucked you harder, her thumb circling your clit as she kept her ministrations. "So wet..." She looked down. "Pleading gets you going, right honey?" She bit your lip and you cried out, violently shaking from her fingers alone. "you needed to see your pretty face all swollen from your tears..." She kissed you again, resting her forehead against yours. "My tears" she eased one more finger inside you and you shook, tears scaping your eyes as freely as they could.

Without further notice you started spilling your juices onto her hand, incoherently babbling pleas and cries for more.

You looked magnificent all fucked out, marked, bitten. Her arousal seeped through her panties as she realized where you two were. Her couch. The couch she so carefully chose with her cheating husband, said husband who swore to god to love respect and be loyal to her. Next thing she knew she grabbed you by the neck, carefully laying you on her couch.

She pulled your panties to the side as she positioned herself between your legs, doing the same to hers but not before staring at your beautiful glistening cunt first. Dahyun groaned like an animal, lowering herself to kiss your pinkish lips.

The first contact your pussies made were enough to push you to the edge once again, almost making you cum one more time.

"Fuck" you heard her mumble, not even realizing she cursed. Her hips moved back and forth as she threw her head back, inhaling deeply. "You feel so good" she set a hard pace, her nails digging in your skin as yours scratched her milky thighs.

"Mrs Kim, oh my god" you managed to say as she kept the hard pace, your wet pussies making the most obscene squelching sounds. Anyone could hear how good she made you and she was proud of it.

"Say it again baby, do it" she squeezed your boobs over the dress and you came screaming, calling her name, crying for her. "Yes yes, keeping calling my name, fuck-" She lost a bit of tempo as her hips faltered, but she never stopped. She opened her eyes to stare at your diamond tears running down your face, biting her lips so hard she draw blood.

Dahyun came moaning loudly, grinding hard over your wet pussy. Shaking, she kept smearing her cum all over your cunt.

"tell me you are mine, ask me not to go" she closed her eyes, holding you by the neck. She wanted to hear that again and again.

"Please Mrs Kim, don't leave me" You hugged her. "I am yours, please believe me" you sobbed and she smiled.

"You look beautiful when you cry for me" She kissed your lips once again.

[urlibragirl]

summary : you and eren were childhood, but you guys drifted apart. One day, Eren decide to stick the pieces back.

warnings/content : mdni!, fem!reader, jealous!eren, eren is a virgin, little bit of angst, p in v intercourse, unprotected sex, oral sex(m receiving)

word count : 1271

Sighing heavily, Eren rubbed his forehead as he tried to recall the events leading up to your falling out. You guys had been inseparable during childhood, always playing together and sharing secrets. But somewhere along the line, things changed. 

He remembered the day clearly, it was after Jean had joined your group of friends. There was something different about you, you seemed happier, more confident. And yet, at the same time, she seemed distant too. Like there was part of herself that kept hidden even from him.

Grinning widely, you clapped your hands excitedly as you talked to your friends about the tv-show you watched the night before. Your laugh echoed through the hallways, drawing attention from everyone around you.

You may have been known for being somewhat wild and carefree, but there was no denying that people enjoyed being around you. Even though Eren preferred quieter gathering, he couldn’t help but admire your ability to light up any room you entered. Watching you interact with others made your heart ache just a little bit more. 

He wished things could go back to how they used to be, but he knew that ship had sailed long ago. Instead, he forced himself to focus on his studies, hoping that one day he might finally gain control over his feelings. Little did he know, your paths were destined to cross again under unexpected circumstances.

One fateful evening during winter break, Armin hosted a party at his place which included most members of their original friendship circle. Despite initially declining due to personal reasons, Eren eventually caved in under pressure from Mikasa and Jean who insisted he needed some time off studying. Reluctantly agreeing, he arrived at Armin’s house.

As the night wore on and the party reached its peak, Eren found himself drawn to you, despite the animosity that had grown between you two over the years. With a determined stride, he made his way through the crowd until he stood in front of you, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Hey," he said, trying to keep his voice casual despite the butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

You glanced at him, “Oh, hey Eren,” you answered “It’s been a long time.”

You guys stood in awkward silence for a moment, the weight of your unresolved issues hanging heavy in the air.

“Look, I didn’t mean to ignore you or act like a jerk. It’s just that seeing you with Jean made me realize how much I missed having you around. We were best friends since forever, and suddenly, you were gone. I tried to move on, but my heart wouldn’t listen. So yeah, maybe I acted immaturely sometimes, but deep down, I was hurting too.” 

Your eyes widened in surprise as you listened to Eren pouring his heart out. You hadn’t expected such honesty from him. For once, he sounded vulnerable instead of aloof. “There’s also something I need to tell you,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. “Something I’ve been wanting to say for quite a while now…” You paused for effect, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“The truth is, I’m in love with you. From the moment we met all those years ago, I knew there was something special between us. And as time went by, that feeling only grew stronger.” you finally said.

“But what about Jean?” Eren asked with a surprised tone. “Oh, with Jean it wasn’t anything serious,” you said. “It’s going to sound horrible but both of us needed someone to forget about the friend they were in love with, me with you and him with Mikasa, but apparently it wasn’t really effective”

“So why didn’t you say something?” he asked. “Well, I could ask the same thing to you Eren?” you answered, teasing him a little bit.

“I guess I was just scared,” he admitted sheepishly. “ Afraid that maybe you really had moved on without me – I’ve missed you Y/N,” he confessed, his voice shaking. “More than you’ll ever know”.

As your faces drew closer, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of intense emotion. Your hearts raced in unison, beating wildly against your chests as you prepared yourselves for whatever laid ahead.  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your lips met in a tender, passionate kiss.

It was as if all the pent-up frustration and sorrow from your tumultuous past had suddenly vanished, replaced by a powerful wave of desire and affection. Time stood still as you were both lost in the moment, savoring every second of your long-awaited reunion. 

When you guys finally pulled apart, you gazed into each other's eyes, lost in the depths of each other's souls. "I love you, Eren," you whispered, your voice shaking slightly with emotion. "And I love you too, Y/N," he replied, his voice equally strained.

As your lips parted, Eren found himself struggling to catch his breath. This was new territory for him; he had never experienced such intense passion before. He looked into your eyes, wondering if she felt the same way. 

To his relief, he saw a mix of lust and tenderness reflected back at him. Gently guiding you towards the nearby bedroom, he led you inside and closed the door behind you. The room was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows across the walls. 

Undressing each other slowly, you were revealed in the sight of each other's naked forms for the first time. Despite being a virgin, Eren couldn't hide his excitement or nervousness. You sensed his apprehension and decided to take charge. 

Kneeling down beside him, you ran your hands up his thighs, stopping just short of his erection. Looking into his eyes, you gave him a reassuring smile before taking him into your mouth. Eren let out a moan as you teased him expertly, sucking gently on his cock while running your tongue along its length. 

Overwhelmed by pleasure, he reached down to touch your hair, encouraging you to continue. As you worked him over with your skilled tongue, he couldn't help but wonder how lucky he was to have found someone like you. 

Meanwhile, you moved up to straddle Eren's lap, grinding your hips against him suggestively. You wanted this to be special for him, and you intended to make sure it was. Slowly lowering yourself onto his hardened member, you gasped as you felt him slide inside your wet folds. It was tighter than she expected, but in a good way. 

You began moving up and down, meeting his thrusts halfway as you both sought release. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the air, punctuated by gasps of pleasure from both parties involved. Eren grabbed hold of your hips, pulling you closer as he buried himself deeper inside your warmth with each stroke. 

Your rhythm became faster and more urgent as you neared climax. Just when it felt like neither of you could take another moment, you both cried out in ecstasy, your bodies shuddering together as you reached orgasm simultaneously.

"Oh god," Eren groaned, his voice hoarse from exertion. "That was incredible." He pulled you closer, burying his face in your neck as he savored the scent of your skin. "I don't think I've ever felt anything like that before." You smiled contentedly, tracing gentle circles on his back. "Oh don’t worry, we're just getting started." 

With renewed energy, you two began exploring each other's bodies once more, lost in the heat of the moment. Every touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, heightening your senses and deepening your connection. 

a/n : i wrote this at 2 a.m, so there might be grammar mistakes sorry

[amirasainz]

I AM IMAGINING PAPA SAINZ'S REACTION TO LEWIS AND AMIRA AT THE MET GALA thank God Reyes shut off the TV early or he'd have a heart attack after seeing the after party

Also I HC that Carlos was frantically calling up his dad but Reyes turned it to silent mode because she KNEW her son would do that!!

So much fun to write this. I can totally see Carlos pacing in his room, wondering why his Papá isn't picking up. Enjoy reading and send some requests -XoXo

A mothers helping hand

Carlos Sr. and Reyes sat side by side, their eyes glued to the TV screen. Amira, their precious girl, graced the Met Gala carpet in a gown that shimmered like stardust. “Look at how pretty our girl looks,” Reyes whispered, her heart swelling with pride. Carlos Sr. nodded, blinking back tears. His little princess had become a queen.

As the gala unfolded, Reyes realized they could also catch the After-Party on TV. Carlos Sr. excused himself to fetch drinks, leaving Reyes alone with the screen. And there it was—a moment that sent panic coursing through her veins.

Amira, radiant and ethereal, stood in the arms of none other than Sir Lewis Hamilton. Reyes harbored no objections to their relationship, but she knew her husband’s temper. Worse yet, their son would undoubtedly intervene, urging Carlos Sr. to talk to Amira, to pull her away from the After-Party. Reyes couldn’t allow that.

In an impromptu decision, she switched off the TV and removed the batteries from the remote. Carlos Sr. returned, puzzled. “Ay, what happened? Why isn’t the TV working?” he asked. Reyes feigned innocence. “I don’t know, Carlito.” Her husband fiddled with the TV, oblivious to her covert operation.

His phone buzzed—a message from their son. Swiftly, Reyes snatched it, toggled flight mode, and deleted the internet settings. Extreme, perhaps, but she wouldn’t let their son disrupt Amira’s night. Not when she was dancing with stars.

“Maybe it’s a sign from above that we should go to bed,” Reyes suggested, her eyes twinkling. Carlos Sr. chuckled. He knew better than to argue with his determined wife. Offering his hand, he led her upstairs. But before they reached their room, he asked, “Have you seen my phone anywhere?”

Reyes feigned surprise. “Oh, Carlito, I think I left it downstairs. But you know what? Maybe we don’t need it tonight.” She pulled him into their bedroom, leaving the world outside. In that quiet space, they listened to the distant music of the Met Gala, knowing their daughter was twirling in Lewis Hamilton’s arms.

And Reyes silently vowed to protect Amira’s happiness, even if it meant outsmarting technology and meddling sons.

[im-sleepdeprived]

Can you write something about co-workers to friends to lovers?

fix you up

pairing: peter parker x reader

a/n: i won’t lie to y’all idk how i feel abt this one. its cute dgmw but i hope you guys like it !!! ive had this request for an EMBARRASSINGLY long time, anon if you’re upset, i totally understand

warnings: mentions of injuries, burns, rude customers, bandaging some wounds n stuff, fluff and pining !!! (disclaimer: I’ve never been a barista so forgive me if this is a lil off)

masterlist, requests are open !!

Working in a rustic-vintage-corner-campus-cafe was definitely not how you saw your college years going. Your teen self would’ve killed to work at a place like this but when you grew up, you realized just how different the workload is between a high school student and a uni one such as yourself. 

You weren’t complaining of course. The pay was adequate, your manager was a simple old lady who never had much to say other than making sure all the equipment was clean, you got along with your coworkers pretty well for the most part and the customers were tolerable. 

But every once in a while, you’d get an entitled shithead who seemed to make it their life’s mission to ruin someone else’s day. And the problem with working a social job such as you did, is that you were an easy target. 

It started off as a fairly simple day, you clocked in and put on your apron ready to start your shift for the day. You preferred late morning shifts, leaving afternoons for classes (and the rouge 8am lecture every now and then) and nights for going out or studying. 

“Oh, Y/N! Thank god you're here,” Your co-worker, Vanessa, exclaimed.

Vanessa was a few years older than you. She actually wasn’t a student, she’d given college a try and it wasn’t her thing. Apparently, all it did was “try to undermine unstoppable greatness.” She was chatty, but you actually liked that about her. She could keep up a conversation with a statue. When you first started off here she’d been the one to show you the ropes and ever since then, you’d had a specific bond with her that you couldn’t really put a name to.

You gave her a small smile, “Yeah well, I do prefer to show up when promised. Especially when my paycheck depends on it,” you let out a small laugh.

“Yes! See, that's what I love about you,” she made a disgusted face, “Unlike Peter. Honestly, I don't understand how he hasn’t been fired yet! He shows up at least half an hour late to every shift yet Miss Hannigan still keeps him around.”

“Oh,” you stuttered, raising your hands a little in defense, “I didn't mean it as a jab at Peter, I swear.”

She tossed a curled blonde lock of hair over her shoulders while waving her other hand in dismissal, “Honey, don’t worry about it. I know you would never, you’re far too sweet for that. But I wouldn’t blame you if you did, you know, having to work more than half your shift alone? I swear if Bernard did that to me,” she made a big show of gesturing to herself, "I would not deal with it.”

While what she was saying wasn’t necessarily wrong, it didn’t feel right talking about Peter like that. Sure, he was late most of the time, leaving you to do most of the work while you waited for him to show up (somehow when he started working you two got the same shift together and it’s just been that way ever since) and while you, also, normally wouldn’t put up with this, there was something different about Peter. You never felt like he was taking advantage of you, and purposefully made you pick up extra slack. It was quite the opposite actually, he always apologized profusely and never slacked when he was on the clock. He always seemed so rushed and out of breath, you were pretty sure the poor boy just needed to learn how to manage time better. Plus, he always took it upon himself to unpack the orders because of all the heavy lifting required (you couldn’t tell just by looking at him, with all the sweaters he wore, but man was he ripped.)

“He’s actually really sweet.” You’re not sure why exactly you’re so keen on defending Peter. You two barely spoke, outside of work of course, and you don’t know much about him. But something inside you didn’t like anyone assuming anything bad about him. 

“Yea, well, he’d be a ton sweeter if he clocked in on time,” she laughed as she untied her apron, getting ready to leave. You faked a laugh as well, not wanting the conversation to progress any further. 

“Alrighty, well,” she heaved a breath, “I'm off, have a good rest of your day Y/N.”

You smiled once again and sent a wave her way before settling down in front of the register. It was slow today, not many people in the shop. A fellow student you only recognized from work sat in a corner booth with their headphones locked in and was working on what seemed to be some kind of essay. 

There was an older woman, however, looking incredibly irritated at the table closest to you. You’d never seen her before but that wasn’t too strange. It was a near-campus cafe, after all, lots of people passing through. She looked to be typing on her phone until, suddenly, she shut it off and made direct eye contact with you. 

If looks could kill, you would’ve dropped dead behind the counter, which wouldn’t be all that ideal considering you couldn’t remember the last time anyone mopped that side of the store. 

She stood up and walked towards you and you already dreaded the conversation to come.

“I have an order,” she spit out, as if she were disgusted to even be talking to you at the moment. 

No greeting or anything, wow. Someone wasn’t raised right. 

Nonetheless, you put on your well-rehearsed customer service smile and gave in. “Sure, I’d be happy to help with that. Can you just give me the order?”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I shouldn’t have to, I called in and placed it and it should be ready by now. I'm going to be late!”

You froze for a moment, not quite sure what to do, “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience ma’am, but I just got here and I haven’t heard anything,” you glance at the little whiteboard kept on the counter for these exact situations only to find it empty, “and I don’t see anything here about a phone-placed order. Are you sure you have the right store?”

Her face was so red and steam was practically blowing out of her ears, “Of course, I have the right store! Do you think I'm stupid or something?”

“No! Of course not, I'm so sorry,” you start to blabber off, not wanting to make her any angrier than she already was, “I’ll get things ready for you right away ma’am.”

You turned around and tried to make yourself not freak out as badly as you wanted to. It was so humiliating getting yelled at like this in public! And yeah, maybe if you had such a problem with unpleasant interactions like this, you shouldn't have taken a social job such as this one, but honestly, you thought people would have enough manners not to act up like this. Apparently not. 

It slipped your mind for a moment because of how scrambled you got when the lady flipped her lid, but Vanessa has been known to do this, forget to write down orders and leave you to fend for yourself (quite literally since your coworker was never really around) and you’re pretty sure that’s what happened here. Other customers were usually more understanding than this woman bordering on Kathy-Bates-movie-character-insanity over a drink order. 

You reached into your back pocket, deciding you’d try to send her a hurried text about any phone calls she might remember. That just seemed to anger your customer more.

“Excuse me?! I'm sitting here waiting for my order and you're too busy chatting away on your phone?”

You lose yourself for a moment and you can’t feel your face anymore. 

“I am so sorry ma’am,” you repeat, which seems to be your mantra since you started working today, “I was just checking to see if-,”

“I don't care what you were checking, or what you need to see! Give me what I paid for,” her hand started smacking against the counter loud enough for the only other person in the store to look up, broken from their reverie. They merely shot you an apologetic look before getting back to their work, leaving you to fend for yourself.

“You have terrible customer service, honestly. I come here every Tuesday with my book club, but never again. If I don’t get exactly what I asked for in the next five minutes, I'm calling your boss and not leaving until I'm sure you’re fired.” 

You shake your head, “There’s no need to do that ma’am, I'll get everything ready for you.”

You turned around once again, this time, heading towards the cappuccino machine. You’re not sure why you said that considering you have no clue what ‘everything’ is that has to get ready. 

In all honesty, there’s a low chance that a suburban-white-soccer-mom type would have any real effect on your employment. Miss Hannigan would surely not fire you just because some order forgot to be written down and some customer got pissed. Right?

But you really didn’t want to find out. 

So, you started up the machine and turned to grab a cup. Today, apparently, was just doomed from the start. As you turned to grab one of the cups placed on the shelf over the machine, your hand hit the button that turned on the steam wand. Which was aimed directly at your other hand. 

You bit down the yelp that threatened to escape and jumped back, the back of your hand now searing with pain. Instinctively, your other hand came to cup your injured one, which only made it worse. You fought back tears as you moved to turn the steam back off. 

Inhaling deeply, you took a moment to try to get your mind working again. “Hello?!” Of course. You turned your head and gave her the fakest smile you’ve ever mustered in your whole life. “One minute ma’am.”

You could hear her going off about how she doesn’t have a minute to spare, but you ignored her, trying to think of what the hell you could give her to just get her out of your face. You’d have to guess her order since I wasn’t actually taken. You’d started playing a game with yourself since you worked here, guessing people's drink orders, and you’d say you’ve gotten pretty good. 

You peeked a look back at her. You’d had customers around her age come in before and order, for the most part, the same thing. A plain cappuccino. Seemed like a safe bet.

Swallowing down the pain as best you could, you approached the machine again. This time, taking out the portafilter. It must’ve not been put in correctly because it clattered to the ground, coffee grinds falling around the floor. 

You wanted to cry. Your hand hurt like hell, there was a new mess to deal with, and that lady hadn’t stopped complaining since you stepped in. 

Frozen, you began to panic a little, breaths coming out sporadically. You’d leave the sweeping for later, but you had to clean the filter so you could use it because it was the only one. And the slightest brush of air made your hand burn even more. You had no clue how to go about this. Maybe if you-

Like an angel, Peter rushed in through the side door. Tying his apron around his waist, he looked towards you. Your hand flew up to your mouth at his perfect timing and you saw his expression grow more concerned. 

He rushed towards you. “What happened?” And for a second, you forget everything that was stressing you out just a few moments before. He grabbed your hand so gently, you forgot every ounce of pain. 

“I cannot believe this!” She wasn’t giving up and you shut your eyes in frustration, turning to reply to her again. But before you can open your mouth, Peter steps in. “Hold on, can’t you clearly see she’s hurt?”

She scoffed and crossed her arms, “That’s her fault. If she knew how to do her job, it wouldn’t have happened.”

You could feel the anger rolling off him in waves. His expression hardened and his mouth opened to shoot something back at her, but this time, you cut him off. You placed your non-injured hand on his shoulder and gave him a look. 

He stared at you for a few seconds before finally giving in, blowing out some air in a frustrated huff. “Go wait for me inside,” he told you, nodding his head toward the employees-only backroom. 

“What?” You asked confused. You didn’t wanna leave him alone. 

“You’re not working right now, there’s no way I’m letting you. I’ll deal with her. Go, I’ll be right there,” he said, shoving you away gently.

Once you heard that he’d be following you, you were more willing. You walked through the door and took a seat at the table usually used for meal breaks. The ‘break room’ was a small room positioned in the back of the store. You can’t remember what this place used to be (a diner maybe?) but this specific room was used as an office, but Miss Hannigan claimed she had no use for an office so it was used for employee breaks. 

Every ounce of you was grateful for Peter’s Superman moment back there. He came in today earlier than usual and he’d totally saved your ass. You were going to make sure to tell him. 

You weren’t waiting long before the door opened again and Peter walked in, holding a backpack you hadn’t seen on him before. In his other hand, he held a drink. He placed the drink on the table before he grabbed one of the chairs, bringing it close to yours, and you turned your body to face him. 

He picked up your hand again, just as gently as before. “Alright,” he let out a breath of relief, “it’s not as bad as I thought, but, it’s still gonna take a while to heal. Wait,” he leaned over, unzipping his bag and taking supplies out while you just stared at him.

“I thought you majored in biochemistry.” You blurted out. Your face heated up a little when he looked at you curiously.

“I- I saw your textbooks once when you left your bag open. And I’ve seen you around campus, near the science-y buildings…and stuff.” You shrugged and he chuckled. 

“I do,” he nodded, “any medical stuff is self-taught. I get into a lot of…accidents.”

“Oh.” You nodded at him. What kind of accidents would he get into? You’d never seen him hurt, but what did you know. 

“I take it you don’t major in anything science-y,” he said, grinning at you.

You shook your head, “No, I don’t. But I have a chemistry class I have to take for credit. Which makes no sense because chemistry has nothing to do with what I want to learn.”

He laughed and set his bag back down, everything he needed was now laid out on the table. “Okay,” he picked up a white tube with red lettering on it. “This is gonna help with pain and scarring. I’m going to spread some of this, then wrap it up for you.” You looked at the table and saw he’d also taken out some white gauze. What kind of ‘accidents’ did he get into?

You nodded, at a complete loss for words. You had no idea Peter knew so much about injuries and you were so thankful he was helping you out. You didn’t hate each other, but you weren’t close either.

He applied a small amount to the back of your hand, asking you constantly if you were okay as he rubbed it on softly. Honestly, even if it did hurt, you wouldn’t have the heart to tell him.

He finished up with the cream and moved onto the gauze, expertly wrapping it up to lightly cover your wound. When he was finished with that, he carefully tied it off, making sure not to tie it too tight.

“There,” he leaned back and smiled at you, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “All fixed up.”

 “Thank you, Peter, really.” You reluctantly pulled your hand back into your lap, missing the warmth of his fingers wrapped around it.

“You don’t need to thank me Y/N, it’s the least I could do. I’m just glad I got here earlier than usual.”

You nodded and looked down. “Well thanks anyway, you saved my ass back there. Seriously, I have no idea what’s wrong with me today but I kept fucking everything up.”

“Hey,” he said softly, making you look up and meet his gaze. “You didn’t fuck anything up. Okay? You made a few mistakes, but that's not your fault. She shouldn’t have been treating you like that, especially when you’d hurt yourself.” He looked away and scoffed as he remembered the terrible customer that had ruined your morning. You would’ve felt extremely touched by his care if it weren’t for his next words.

“All that for a plain fucking cappuccino.” He mumbled.

“A plain cappuccino? Really?” You asked excitedly, forgetting about everything, and grinning at him wildly. 

“Um, yeah…why?” He asked you, confusion was written all over his face, but he couldn’t help his own smile slightly growing when he noticed your enthusiasm.

“Nothing,” you shook your head quickly, smile never fading, “I just…well, I play this game with myself where I guess people's drink orders. And I think I’m getting pretty good because that’s exactly what I was going to make her before you walked in.”

He laughed out loud and you joined in. “What’s my order?” He asked. 

You paused for a moment. “A caramel macchiato with extra caramel.”

He looked at you for a bit, “Close,” he admitted. “It used to be.”

“So are you gonna tell me what it is now?”

Shaking his head, he leaned over the table and dragged the drink he’d brought in earlier in front of you. “Here,” he changed the subject, “I made you this.”

You’d completely forgotten about it, and when you took a closer look, you realized it was your coffee order. 

Your mouth fell open, “How’d you know?”

He just shrugged, smiling slightly. He knew it was your favorite, but the confirmation was still nice. “I've seen you make it for yourself. Educated guess.”

“Oh my god,” you said, voice soft. It was a simple thing really, you had one most days at the end of your shift. But the fact that he’d noticed… It just meant a lot. “Thank you so much, Peter.”

He just waved you off, his smile growing when he noticed your reaction to the drink. He couldn’t believe he got a chance to speak to you. Truly speak to you. He was always too awkward or embarrassed or trying to avoid embarrassment. But now, while he didn’t like the circumstances that led you both here, he was actually talking to you. And it was nice.

“So,” he started, not wanting this to end just yet, “you said you’ve got a chemistry class?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, picking up your drink and taking a sip. “The one with Professor Hall. I actually have a class after this shift. I totally suck though, and he hates me. I just don’t get it, and he doesn’t explain it well!”

Peter nodded, completely understanding what you meant. It was a tough subject to begin with, and he knew not everyone was as into science as he was, add onto that a teacher who doesn’t really teach, it’s a recipe for disaster. 

“I actually had that class. Last year. I can help you, sometimes. If you’d like me to, that is!” He rushed out. Great, he thought, now I’m getting awkward. 

You looked up at him, eyes wide. “Really? Do you mean that?”

“Of course. I think I’ve still got my notes too, if you want ‘em.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if he wasn’t saving your ass again. 

“Oh my god Peter,” you placed your non-injured hand on his knee, not noticing the way his body stiffened and he gulped. “That would help so much. There’s a huge exam coming up, and it's a huge part of my grade so I have to pass. I started cramming earlier but—”

“I’ll help,” he reassured you, “I enjoy science anyway, so it’ll be fun for me.”

“Thank you,” you repeated. Staring at him so close, you realized you’d never noticed how handsome he was. Sure there were times you thought he was cute, from afar, but now…you could see the different shades of brown in his eyes, the way one of his eyebrows was slightly curlier than the other, unwilling to sit straight. You couldn’t help but stare-

“Oh my god,” you repeated, except this time, you had remembered something. “If we’re both in here, who’s outside?”

“What? Oh, um,” he scratched the back of his neck, still reeling from having you so close to him. “Freddy’s out there?”

“Freddy?” You asked confused. 

He nodded. “The guy writing on his laptop, he’s friends with my roommate, throws the craziest parties. He’s chill, I told him to keep an eye out if someone else walks in. But it’s been slow, so I think we’re good.”

“Oh, okay.” You said, standing up. “We should probably still go though.”

He stood up beside you, frowning. “I don’t think you should work with your hand hurt. I don’t want you accidentally making it worse.”

Your heart warmed at his concern. “That's really sweet Peter, but I’ll be fine. I don’t know what happened before, I never do stuff like that, even accidentally.”

He still didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t you just go home? I can take it for today.”

You shook your head quickly, “I’m not leaving. I have a class later and it would just be a waste of time going back and forth anyway.”

You walked towards the door, opened it, and exited before he had a chance to argue anymore. You stepped behind the counter while Peter rushed out behind you. You watched Freddy give him a thumbs up and Peter nodded at him before he followed right after you. 

“Are you sure you should go to class today? I can walk you home so you can take the day off,” he offered, and he looked so genuine you almost accepted. 

“Peter,” you laughed and he decided no matter what your response was, it wouldn’t matter because hearing you say his name like that was enough. “I’ll be fine, I didn’t break both my legs, it's just a small burn.”

He stared at you for a bit as you smiled at him, trying to get him to ease up. “Fine,” he gave in reluctantly. “But no going towards the cappuccino machine,” he waved a finger at you, “or the ovens. Or anything hot!”

“Fine,” you shot back, grinning wide and he couldn’t help but return it.

The rest of the morning had gone by easily and you thought maybe you didn’t have totally shit luck. Peter was way more fun than you ever thought he’d be��and you wondered why you didn’t start talking to each other sooner. 

It used to be silently working together but after those few moments in the break room, you guys were laughing your whole shift. He meant what he said, and he kept you away from anything that produced heat (which you told him was an insane boundary to set in a cafe) so you had extra time to make quips here and there.

You started playing your order-guessing game with him, teaching him certain traits that gave someone away:

“Side part, beanie, and a crossbody? Oh, he’s getting a tall, dark, americano for sure.”

“She’s getting tea. No coffee, just tea. Maybe with a little lemon wedge.”

And he started to get the hang of it. 

“She looks like she drinks matchas right?” He said to you when a girl around your age walked in. He’d been right and you both laughed about it afterwards. 

When your work shift ended, you were actually upset. 

“I’ve got a class to get to,” you told him, lifting your bag onto your shoulder. You’d both cleaned up and gotten yourselves ready, now standing in front of the door. Something in you didn’t want to leave just yet, enjoying your time together far too much to end it so soon. 

“Yeah…” he trailed off, you waited for him to continue but he hesitated. 

“What is it?” You crossed your arms and smiled slightly, shifting your weight onto your other foot. He brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, “I just…well, I was just wondering—if it's okay with you of course!” He rushed out, quickly bringing his hands up. “That I could walk you to class?”

You laughed, “I’d love that Pete, thank you.” You turned to open the door to let you both out but he quickly moved forward, holding it open for you and motioning for you to move forward. 

Looking back at him, you smiled and noticed his cheeks were a little red. How had you never noticed how adorable he was?

The walk back to campus wasn’t long but you learned a lot. He told you where he went to high school, his friends he still kept in touch with, his Aunt May, some funny moments from parties he’d been forced to attend by his roommate, and you laughed together.

You told him about the book you were currently reading, your life back home and your family, and why you chose to go to this college. He went along with your jokes, which made it all the more better for you. “I mean if you think about it,” you'd said, “it is so much easier to romanticize your life  when your school campus is as pretty as this one, and that’s real motivation!”

The conversation flowed naturally between you two and it felt like you’d been friends for ages. He dropped you off outside of your class building with the promise of picking you up afterward so you two could study together. 

“So I’ll be back here in an hour right,” he asked. 

“Right,” you smiled at him. “And thanks again Pete, for everything.” You held up your bandaged hand, shaking it a little before setting it back down. 

He shook his head quickly, “Don’t thank me for that. Really.”

You stared at him with a warm expression. “Bye Peter,” you waved as you turned to walk into your class.

“Bye Y/N,” he returned. He watched you walk through the doors, shooting him one last smile before you disappeared from view, before blowing out a breath of air. 

He’d finally gotten a chance to talk to the girl he’d been crushing on for months, and he got to walk her to class! And they were meeting up afterward. After working so close to you and never having the guts to initiate a conversation, he’d settled for just admiring you from afar. But after today, there was nothing that could keep him away. 

You were not having a good day. 

You’d just found out that your chemistry exam was being bumped up to two days from now. Even with the early studying you’d done before, there was no way you could catch up with everything that fast. You were so overwhelmed you had completely forgotten Peter was waiting for you outside. 

You walked out, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth, and you practically jumped out of your skin when someone placed a hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, don’t worry,” he said, his voice soft yet full of concern. Peter. “It's just me. What happened?”

The second he saw you walk out, he could tell something was off. He could literally sense the anxiety rolling off of you in waves. He had waited for you to look up and stop when you saw him, but you were just about to walk past him before he stopped you. Now, you were looking at him with distress coating every feature on your face. Your brows were pinched, your lip red from biting it, and your eyes wide and distant like you couldn’t even see him and he was standing right in front of you. Something had gone wrong and he wanted nothing more than to fix it. 

“What is it? What’s wrong? He asked frantically. 

“Oh my god,” you whispered, hands flying up to the sides of your head and gripping your hair. You weren’t looking at him anymore, “Oh my god.”

“Ok Y/N,” he said nervously, “you’re starting to scare me.”

“Two days Peter!” You looked at him wildly. “Two days! I can’t go over everything in two days, is he fucking insane? I didn’t even know he could do something like that, I mean, can he do something like that? I feel like that shouldn’t be allowed it should—”

You cut yourself off and started pacing back and forth in front of him. “Oh my god, I’m gonna bomb this. And if I fail, it’ll bring my whole grade down! I can’t afford that I—”

“Hey,” he repeated, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder again. “I said I’m gonna help you, and I meant it. So we’re gonna get through this together, even if we have to stay up all night.”

You stared at him, trying to wonder what you’d done in your life to deserve such an angel. 

You shook your head quickly, “I really appreciate that Peter, but I’m serious. There’s no way I can learn everything I need to know that fast.”

You tried to smile at him but it didn’t reach your eyes. 

He grinned, his expression the total opposite of yours. “Well, you’ve clearly never studied with me, so don’t sound too sure yet.”

Another thing you’d come to realize was just how smart Peter was. 

You really should’ve known when he told you he’d taken that advanced chemistry class a year ago. And passed. 

Looking through his notes, you could see his attention to detail. He really wasn’t a slacker in the classroom because everything was clearly laid out here. 

You’d spent that night going over everything and you’d actually started to feel hopeful about it. Peter was a way better teacher than Professor Hall, and it didn’t hurt that he was so cute. He was understanding with everything and was willing to go over any part for as long as it took for you to fully grasp it. 

At the end of the night, he’d undone the wrappings around your hand, reapplied the cream for you, and wrapped it up again.

“It’s doing okay,” he reassured you. “Like I said, it’s gonna take a while, but if it starts hurting or anything, take some medicine. Then find me.”

You were sure you’d just melted into his hands at that moment.

The next day, you couldn’t wait to get through everything and see him again, even if you were going to be talking about chemistry. 

You weren’t scheduled to work at the cafe today, so you’d only get to meet up after both of your classes. 

Lectures were a blur, nothing really catching your attention and you spent most of the time with your phone tucked in your hand texting back and forth with Peter, barely concealing your laughter when he sent you memes. 

It was like that all day, until, finally, you made your way over to his small apartment he shared with one of his friends. 

its very quaint 🤌

(totally NOT what we say to make ourselves feel better about this shoebox)

He’d told you over text, making you laugh out loud as you made your way over there. 

dw🫡 I was one of those kids who used to live in their play tents and hid in random corners and spaces

im totally ready for this

ok but be warned, we do not have a pet!!! they are not allowed per our lease!!! ignore the cat when you come in!!! tell no one!!!

what cat ??

good girl ;)

Your face flushed as you made your way up the steps to his door. You knocked three times and barely had to wait a second before Peter stood before you, holding the door open. 

“Hi,” he said, smiling at you. 

“Hi,” you grinned back. You heard a small ‘meow’ come from behind him and he quickly held up a finger to his lips. You covered your mouth, stifling a laugh as you nodded at him. 

“Come on in,” he said, stepping out of the way to lead you through the door. You stepped in and kicked off your shoes before looking around. It was plain, but that was to be expected really. 

There was a large poster hanging next to their TV, however, that caught your eye. “Big fan?” You asked him, shoving your thumb in the direction of the Star Wars poster. 

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Kind of.”

“Oh. Well, I was just asking because I love those movies. My little brother used to watch them and I got really into it.”

“Oh. I mean—I don’t know what I was saying before I love them too.” He rushed out, making you giggle.

He stayed staring at you for a bit, his eyes rounding out and his mouth gaping a little bit. 

You gave him a small smile, “Okay, well we should-” You let out a small yelp, hands flying to your mouth as you jumped back. 

The living room was small. The only things occupying it were the TV mounted to the wall, and in front of it, was a sofa. And on the sofa, was an unconscious body that you hadn’t noticed until it let out a low groan. You really weren’t sure how you missed it, there wasn’t much else to look at, but they had just been so still. 

Heart beating erratically, you turned towards Peter again, who was looking at you with all the amusement in the world written all over his face. “Was he always there,” you whispered, eyes wide.

He opened his arms, “Well, angel, I really don’t know. Did you see anyone come in?”

“Oh shut up,” you grumbled. “He looks familiar…is that..”

“Freddy.” He finished for you. Right. The dude from the cafe. 

“He crashes here sometimes.” He added.

You nodded. “Alright.”

“Shall we?” He opened a door beside him and looked at you. 

“Right. Yeah, of course.” You walked past him and into his room. You stopped after you entered, taking a moment to look around. His room was simple, with just his bed, a desk and chair, and a dresser perched next to another door you assumed was his closet. 

What really caught your attention, however, were the photos scattered all over the walls. The room was practically engulfed in Peter Parker’s memories, and you really liked it. Without thinking, you approached one wall, walking through them and taking each one in. 

There were some with large groups of people, those looked like school trips. Most of the photos were of the same two people, and based on what he’d told you, you assumed those were his friends. Ned and MJ. 

A lot of the photos contained an older woman, who looked stunning. That had to be his Aunt May. You were shocked by how many photos he had with the Tony Stark. He’d told you he had an internship at Stark Industries, but really, you sorta thought he just went on coffee runs all day. 

And then, you saw a couple shots of Spider-Man. It wasn’t unusual, you knew a lot of people snapped photos of the masked hero when they spotted him around the city. What was unusual, was the quality of the photos. You didn’t know if you’d ever seen such clear photos of him, even on the news, as he was always swinging and in motion. In these, Peter seemed to have caught him at just the right time. You wondered how long it took him to capture the photos.

“Big fan?” You smirked over at him from your spot by one of the Spider-Man photos as you repeated your words from earlier. 

Peter leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, content with watching go over the details of his life. He felt a little naked, like he was bared out in front of you. But…it felt good too. He liked knowing you were learning new things about him, and curious to know more. It filled him with an anxious sort of giddiness.

“You first,” he said slyly.

Laughing, you said, “Well, I don’t see how anyone can hate on the guy. He literally runs around saving lives”

He laughed as he approached you, standing by your side. You’d be surprised. “True I guess.”

“We should get to studying,” you said, breezing past him, your hand brushing his bicep as you did. He sucked in a breath, his entire body feeling electrocuted after that one touch. He wondered how you seemed so normal, laying out your books and papers on the floor beside his bed. 

This was gonna be a long night. 

He cleared his throat and moved to sit across from you, hoping he didn’t look as flushed as he felt. 

After a few moments of him watching you get settled, you heard him start laughing. Looking up you asked, “What’s so funny?”

That only made him laugh harder. “Just thinking about how scared you got before. Did you really not see him?”

You felt your face go hot. “I didn’t! I had no clue he was there, and next thing I know he’s making lawn mower nosies!”

Peter was red in the face now. “The way you flew back,” he said between fits of laughter, “I thought you’d give yourself whiplash.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled at him, picking up one of your pens and throwing it at him. It bounced off without him even flinching. 

You looked down, avoiding his gaze by busying yourself with your papers. 

“Okay I’m ready to be serious now,” he said. The laughter was gone but amusement twinkled in his voice. 

“Great! Welcome back Pete, now hand me that pen, I’m gonna need it.”

Two hours later, you were both sprawled across the floor tossing Chess-Its at one another. 

“Come on!” You threw your arms up in defeat when you threw another cracker at him just for him to catch it again. 

Peter chuckled, “Sorry angel, I’ve just got killer reflexes.”

“Alright whatever,” You rolled your eyes. “Come on, throw some at me.”

You opened your mouth, ready to finally win one round of this nonsense…just for a Cheez-It to hit your cheek and fall to the ground with the rest of your tries. 

Peter laughed while you sat up, reached to grab the box of crackers, and poured some into your hand before putting it back down. 

“Okay, I’m done. I actually want to eat them now.” You said, munching on a cracker and sitting against the side of his bed. 

“Oh come on, don’t be a quitter Y/N/N,” he grinned, leaning over and pinching your cheek. 

You swatted his hand away with your empty one. “M’not.”

He smiled at you before sitting up. “Hit me,” he said, opening his mouth and pointing at it. 

You grabbed a Cheez-It from the palm of your hand and made a big show of trying to get your aim right. Squinting one eye, you stared at him, moving your hand back and forth before tossing it slightly more to the right. On purpose. 

That didn’t stop him from leaning over and catching it in his mouth. 

“I don’t like this game,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“Don’t act like I don’t know what you did,” he said back, munching on his Cheez-it. 

“Sue me,” you told him, brushing him off with a wave of your hand. 

He laughed before he settled down. “How’s your hand feeling by the way.” His voice was considerably softer now, making you smile softly at him. 

“It’s doing great, thank you again, Peter. I would’ve been totally fucked if it weren’t for you,” you told him honestly. 

He shook his head, “Don’t thank me at all Y/N. Hate seeing you hurt,” he mumbled, less to you and more to himself and he stayed staring at your wrapped-up hand. 

“Well don’t worry about that, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Yeah?” He looked at you suddenly, like he needed to know you meant it. 

“Yeah,” you nodded at him. 

“That’s good,” he breathed out and your heart squeezed at how much he seemed to care. 

“What's your plan? Y’know, for after school?” You didn’t want to leave just yet, even with your studying done. And you wanted to know more about him. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t taken a certain liking to him lately. 

“Well after I get my degree, I’m going move up a little further in Stark Industries. I’m still undecided on grad school, I think I’ve got everything I need and I’m probably just gonna start saving up to pay off student loans instead of adding on them.”

You nodded at him, “So the Stark internship is going well? No offense, I sort of thought you were their coffee mule.” You grinned at him before popping a Cheez-It in your mouth. 

He scoffed, “No, I’m not. I mean, it did take a while to get them to take me seriously, but I got there!”

You laughed, “Well, very proud of you Pete. That’s super impressive.”

He grinned at you, his face heating up at your words. He wondered if you knew how much it affected him every time you called him Pete. Probably not, but he never wanted you to stop. 

You two stayed like that for another hour or so, time passing by without you noticing at all. You talked about your futures, where you say yourselves after school, and after that. Your admiration for him only grew as you got to know him more. You could talk to him all night and never get bored honestly, you-

Shit. 

A random notification lit up your phone, which lay beside you on the floor, making you take notice of the time. 

You sat up quickly, spitting out curses as you started gathering your belongings and shoving them into your bag. 

Peter sat up as well, helping you get your things together but in a calmer manner than yourself. 

“Relax Y/N,” he said in a soothing voice. 

“Pete I can’t do it.” You turned to him suddenly, dropping everything in your hands. 

“Do what, angel?”

“The exam is tomorrow. I’m not ready! I’m gonna fail, and that one grade, that one stupid grade, is gonna hold me back and ruin everything-”

“Sweetheart look at me,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. His grip was warm and reassuring. “You are not going to fail. And I know this because I’ve spent the last few hours studying with you, and I saw how smart you are, and how quick you caught on. You’re gonna walk in there tomorrow and ace that test, I know you are!

“And if for some reason you don’t,” he continued, “you gave it your best. You tried your hardest and you learned something, which is all that matters in the end. So breathe, stop stressing, and let me walk you home.”

“All that talk as an excuse to ask to take me home?” You snorted, “Peter you shouldn’t have.” Despite your jokes, you took his advice and took a deep breath. He was right, you’d studied your hardest, both with and without his help. All you could do was take the exam and hope for the best now.

He laughed and stood up, holding out a hand once he saw you all packed and ready. “Caught me. So is that a yes?”

You took his hand and pulled yourself up but didn’t let go right away. “If I fail, do we have to stop hanging out? Y’know, with you being a science prodigy and all.”

He laughed again and placed both his hands on your shoulder, staring straight into your eyes. “Never.”

“Ok, well, just making sure. I wouldn’t wanna give you a bad rep in the science community or something-”

You were suddenly cut off from your babbling when he pressed his lips to yours. You froze for a second, unsure what to do, but it didn’t take long for you to catch up and kiss him back. 

He pulled away after a few moments, “Done with the jokes?” His voice was soft and teasing.

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, eyes still closed. “But I think you might need to do that again, just to be sure.”

He chuckled murmuring something that sounded like ‘too cute’ but you couldn’t be bothered to hear when you felt his lips on yours again, this time, expecting them. 

You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and canting your head slightly for better access. He groaned, one arm wrapping around your middle, the other settling on your waist.

You might have pictured kissing him before, just maybe. But none of your daydreaming could’ve prepared you for the real thing. The way his bottom lip covered your top one, the soft breaths exchanged between the two of you, the way he pressed himself further into you when you tugged his hair a little harder. This definitely beat all of your daydreams. 

You could’ve stayed that way forever, and you probably would’ve if Peter hadn’t taken one for the team and pulled away first. 

Or tried to, at least. 

“We should-” kiss. 

“You-” kiss. 

“I need to walk,” kiss, “-you home angel.” He murmured against your lips.

“Okay,” you whispered back but you didn’t move to pull away, and he didn’t push you. The two of you stayed stuck, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, taking in the atmosphere of each other. 

“I should probably go now,” you said softly. Peter hummed in agreement, leaning in to peck your lips gently. 

“It’s getting late,” but your voice is more of a sigh. You don’t know what he’s laced his lips with but each kiss makes you weak in the knees and woozier than the last one.

“God, d’yknow I’ve had the biggest crush on you.” He said, completely disregarding your previous statement. 

That stops you. “What?” You asked him in disbelief. Peter had a crush on you? No way, you would’ve known. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled lightly, “don’t act so shocked. I was always a stuttering mess at work whenever you so much as looked at me.”

True. But you’d just thought he was a bit more on the shy side. 

“I’d seen you around campus before and I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and I still do, but I thought I had no shot in hell with you. And when I got the job at the cafe and saw I’d be working with you? I almost lost my fucking mind sweetheart.” You both laughed a little and you couldn’t help the way your cheeks flamed up because of his words. Did he have any clue what he was doing to you right now?

“So I just sorta kept my distance, y’know? Admired you from afar ‘cause I was too scared you’d reject me. Sadly, it only took you nearly burning your hand off,” he gave you a look and you burst into giggles, him doing you and slightly pinching your waist, “for me to get over myself and actually keep up a conversation with you. But now I’ve got you in my room, kissing me.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, “lucky you.” You joked as leaned in to press another kiss to his lips. 

“Lucky me indeed,” he murmured before pulling you in even deeper. He dipped you, making you squeal into the kiss. Then he pulled you up, unable to keep the kiss going any longer with how hard he was grinning.

“Oh my god,” you said, laughing breathlessly. 

“A lot more where that came from,” he smirked at you. 

“You know,” you moved to pick up your bag, “for someone who was so scared to talk to me for so long, you sure found the confidence now.”

“What can I say? You make it easy. Once I started I couldn’t stop.” You smiled at him as he gently placed a hand on your arm leading you to the door. The living room was empty now, no one to be found on the couch or otherwise and you wondered where their cat had wandered off to.

You bent over to put on your shoes, Peter doing the same. He stepped forward and opened the door for you, letting you step out before following you and locking the door. 

As soon as he was done with that, you reached over and grabbed his hand. “Hey Petey?” You said lightly. Oh, he was going to melt. From now on, he only wanted you to call him that.

“Hm?”

“I’m glad you finally decided to talk to me.” 

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “Yeah? Me too angel.”

The next morning, you awoke in the brightest mood, considering you had a chemistry exam later that day. All you could think about was Peter. You were going to see him later at the cafe and you couldn’t wait. 

You leaned over in bed to pick up your phone. Speak of the devil. 

GOOD MORNINGGGGG❤️

hope you slept well angel, can’t wait to see you today. and you’re gonna totally ace that exam!🥰

seriously you’re going to kick chemistry’s butt

A huge smile bloomed on your face, almost hurting from how wide it was. Usually, you'd stay in bed for a while, scrolling through Instagram or just going through messages or something. Not today, you couldn’t wait to get to work. Maybe Peter was a good influence on you. 

After getting ready for the day, you made your way to the cafe with a little bounce in your steps. The bell jingled above you as you opened the door and for the first time since you’d started working together, Peter was here before you. 

“Hey,” he smiled, holding up your usual drink order and waving it at you. 

“Hi Pete,” you approached his, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. As you pulled away, you could see how quickly his cheeks pinked, making you grin. 

“No ‘Petey’?”

“Didn’t know you had a preference,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling it towards you as you took a sip from the drink and then moved to get dressed for your shift. 

“Yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck, wishing he could feel your hand on his for just a little longer, “neither did I.”

You laughed lightly as you tied your apron, the sound hitting him like the greatest melody in the world. 

“Okay then,” you walked towards him, stopping right in front of him, “let’s start over. Hi Petey.”

“Hi angel,” he gave you a dopey grin and you returned it. 

“Great, now that we’ve got that figured out.” You patted his chest lightly before taking the drink from his hands and moving away. 

“Hey wait! Where’s my kiss?” He pouted at you and he looked so adorable, you just wanted to pinch his cheeks and kiss him till he begged you to stop.

“We’re at work, we’ve gotta be professional.” You said matter-of-factly. 

He rolled his eyes, leaned against the counter, and crossed his arms. “Professional my ass, no one is even in here-,”

Before he could even close his mouth, the bell jingled, and in stepped a boy about your age. The boy moved to one of the chairs, not moving to order just yet, giving you the chance to smirk at Peter, who just rolled his eyes again. 

“What do you he’s gonna order,” he asked you.

“Hmm…a cookie, probably.” You moved lean against the counter across from him and took a sip of your drink as you smiled. 

“Hey wait, you never told me what your drink order is.”

“Hmm…” he hummed in consideration before he moved towards you, grabbing your hand with the drink and bringing it up to his lips to steal a sip, maintaining eye contact the whole time. 

“I’ve got to say,” he said in a low voice, “this one has really grown on me.”

You couldn’t look away, all you could do was stare. And stare, and stare, and stare…

A stranger’s voice, and then, “Hey, can I get one of those double chocolate chip cookies?”

You were just on cloud nine today. 

You had taken your exam and for the first time ever in that class, you had felt confident in your work. 

And to top it all off, after you’d handed in your paper and packed your things to leave, Professor Hall had given you a ‘well done’ nod. You! He’d never noticed you positively before. You were going to need to drown Peter in thank-you kisses for his help. 

Speaking of Peter, you couldn’t wait to see him. He told you he’d be waiting for you after your class but when you stepped outside, there was no sign of him. You decided to sit on the building steps and wait. He was probably just running a little late, no biggie. 

Big biggie. After 40 minutes of waiting for him, during which you’d sent him a little text and he hadn’t responded, you decided to head over to his place. 

The walk was short and your little buzz had worn off after not getting to share it with Peter. After all, you kind of owed him most of the credit. You arrived at his apartment door, and when you knocked, it wasn't Peter who answered. 

It's Freddy. 

You throw on a smile. “Hi Freddy, is Peter home?”

He returned your smile as he said, “‘Sup Y/N.” He held out his fist and you stared at it for a while before you got the hint and bumped it with your own. “Pete’s not home right now, but you can totally come in and wait for him.”

You found it funny that someone who didn’t live there was inviting you in to stay, but you accepted anyway. You also had no clue how he knew your name. 

You knew little about Freddy, but you knew he was sort of a campus celebrity. Every raging party there was, everyone knew Freddy was behind it. 

“So,” you said as you walked in, “what year are you in Freddy?”

“Ah nah, I’m done with that shit. I took the bar,” he said casually, waving a hand and moving to sit on the couch. He kicked his feet up on the large Amazon box being used as a coffee table and picked up the open beer sitting atop it. 

You stood in your place, clutching your bag. He was in grad school?

“Oh that’s awesome dude, did you not pass or something.”

“Uh uh,” he shook his head, taking a swig of beer, “got a 350.”

Your eyes widened. What. You didn’t know much about law school but you knew getting a score like that on the bar was not an easy thing. 

“Wait when’d you take it?” You asked confused. The bar exam wasn’t scheduled for a few months from now. 

“Last year.”

“Do you like…work at a firm or something?” It was insane to you that the party animal of this school had already graduated, and with an amazing score nonetheless. 

He shook his head, “Workin' on my music right now, and if that doesn’t work out,” he gave you a wicked grin, “well I’ve always got my law degree.”

You nodded, stunned. “That’s sick dude. Good luck,” you told him, waving as you moved to wait in Peter’s room. 

“Keep the door cracked kids,” he shouted towards you and you huffed a laugh as you entered the room and closed the door (leaving it open just an inch) before you sat at the foot of his bed. 

You looked around for a second, taking it all in. It’s amazing how he managed to take this small space and make it so him. 

After a few moments, you took out your phone to shoot him another text. 

But before you could finish typing it out, the window beside you started opening and you watched as the Spider-Man fell onto the bed, not noticing you gaping right next to him. 

You stayed silent, unsure of what to do or say until he moved to take his mask off. That got you moving and talking. 

“Holy fuck!” You basically shout, moving away, hands flying to your mouth. 

He seemed to be just as shocked as you were because he scrambled up from his lying position. And staring back at you was Peter Parker. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked you, eyes wide. It wasn’t till then that you noticed the paleness of his features, his face lacking that usually healthy glow it held, the waver in his voice, and the hand clutching his bloody side. 

“Holy fuck,” you repeated, voice lower, and for a whole different reason this time. “Shit Peter, you’re hurt.” You moved closer to him, temporarily forgetting everything else as your hand reached to gently remove his so you could take in the extent of his injuries. 

“It’s nothing,” he said but made no move to shove you away or stop you. You moved his hand and winced at the sight that greeted you, “Looks like a whole lot more than nothing babe.”

“I’ve had worse.”

You look up at him, frowning slightly, “Not exactly reassuring Petey.”

“I feel all better now,” he said, shooting you a charming grin as soon as he heard the nickname leave your mouth. “Add a kiss in the mix, and I’ll be good as new.”

You huffed a laugh, shoving his knee slightly, “Shut up Peter. I’m serious. I’m sure you’ve got some experience with stuff like this,” you wave a hand towards his suit and injury for emphasis and he gives you a quick nod. 

“Over there,” he pointed toward his dresser, “top shelf, under the blue sweater.”

You rushed over there, opening the drawer and spotting the sweater he mentioned. “I’m totally stealing that from you someday, this is your heads up,” you told him as you grabbed the large box and completely closed the door before you moved back to his side. 

“You can have anything of mine, Angel. I’m sure you’d look better in it anyway.” His words made you blush, but you tried to ignore them so you could focus on the task at hand. 

Peter, however, found that he really liked watching your cheeks pink up. And he wanted more. 

“Lean against the headboard, now.” You said, trying to be serious again. 

“God, at least buy me dinner first sweetheart.” He gave you the dorkiest smirk you’d ever seen. You just glared at him. “On the other hand,” he said as he moved backward to lean against his headboard, “I don’t need dinner, I’m all yours baby girl.”

This got you to laugh, “Peter, be serious! You’re bleeding out!” You moved to his side, “take this off by the way.” You gestured to his suit. 

He hit the middle emblem of a spider and you watched as it loosened up and fell off his shoulders. You had started pulling it the rest of the way down, gulping when you realized he wasn’t wearing anything else, when he mumbled, “Not a terrible way to go.”

You refused to look up and meet his eyes but he knew he got you. Thank god he was wearing underwear, you realized, and you threw the suit to the side after you’d completely shredded him of it. He was definitely going to need a new one. 

Now completely facing the damage, your stomach churned, and you were hit with the hard truth. “I…I don’t know what to do,” you whispered to him. You wanted to help him, more than anything. This man who’s been risking his life, probably since he was a teenager you realized, as you did the math silently in your head, was hurt and right in front of you, needing your help. And you needed to help him, but you didn’t know the first thing about how to approach a situation like this. You were surprised you could stare at the wound for so long. 

“Don’t worry, I can do it,” he said gently, his bloody hand reaching for the huge first aid kit. 

“No!” You rushed out, grabbing his hand to stop him, “No way am I letting you do that! Just…just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.

Feeling more confident, you grabbed the kit and opened it. Shock coursed you as you realized just how much he went through and your confidence fell right back down where it sprouted from. The bag was full of all the medical tools and supplies you could think of, most of them completely foreign to you, and you realized how privileged you must be to not recognize any of these things. You can’t imagine the ‘worse’ he talked about having earlier. This must be those accidents he was talking about.

“I don’t usually have to use them,” his voice was soft, almost like he was reassuring you, “usually just water and a towel does the trick. Maybe a little numbing cream. And these,” he looked down at his wounds, “some bandages, sure, but I won’t need stitches or anything.”

You let out a breath of relief, you weren’t sure you could’ve handled that. You didn’t trust yourself.

“Okay,” you said, grabbing some wipes. You were going to do this. Based on what he’d told you, he was always stitching himself back up, just to hit the streets again the next day. This time, though, was different. This time you were here to help him, and you weren’t going chicken out of this. Even a little help was better than nothing at all. 

You started slowly, cleaning around his wounds so you could bandage them properly. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked you gently. “I totally understand if you need me to do it, angel, it’s a lot if you’re not used to it.”

“No,” you shook your head, your voice steady, “No way. It’s my turn to fix you up.” You told him, looking up to meet his eyes and smiling at him. 

He returned it and you went back to work. 

“So….Spider-Man, huh?” You peeked up quickly in question. 

“Yeah,” he took a deep breath, “it’s a long story. Basically, I was bit by some spider, that shit was powerful,” you laughed a little, making him smile. “And I got some. Of its powers I mean.”

“So you get bit by a spider, that spider gives you powers, and you decide to become a New York vigilante?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he nodded, and you laughed again. 

“You’re a hell of a guy Peter Parker.” You said, shaking your head slightly. 

“Thank you, I try,” he smirked at you and you laughed again. 

“Okay,” you said, pulling away from his side. He almost whined in protest. Honestly, he wasn’t feeling any pain, not since you’d started worrying about him, and insisting you help him. Peter wasn’t used to that, he was always alone when it came to this part of the job. He’d never minded that before, just one of the things he had to deal with as a superhero, but now that someone else was taking care of him…it felt nice. Really nice. Especially when it was you. 

“Peter?” You looked at him questioningly. Shit. You’d asked him something.  

“Huh? I'm sorry, I didn’t hear you.” He said with wide eyes. He’d gotten too wrapped up in the feeling of being taken care of, not that anyone could blame him though, the girl he’d been crushing on forever was here, in his room, helping bandage him up! It's more than he could’ve dreamed of. 

“It’s okay sweetie,” you said, waving him off assuming he was in pain or something. Really, now he had something new to obsess over. Sweetie? While he was practically naked (albeit injured, but he wasn’t thinking of that right now) in bed with you? God, he could just melt.

“I was just wondering which bandages,” you said, holding up the different ones you’d found in his bag. 

“Oh,” he said lamely, “these ones.” He grabbed a few from you and opened them. 

“Look,” he said, leaning over himself to see his wounds properly, “you’ve got to bring together both sides of the wound, then secure the bandage so that it’s holding it closed.” He talked as he placed the first bandage with you watching and listening with intent. 

“Okay, I think I’ve got it,” you said as you took the rest of the bandages from him. You steadied yourself, straddling his thigh as you started placing the bandages down his wound. The biggest gash took about five, your elbow resting on his abdomen as you got lower…and lower. 

Conveniently, you missed the quiver in his breath, too focused on the work at hand, but you didn’t miss the small gasp he let out when your forearm reached right between his thighs. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You said as you pulled away quickly, thinking you’d hurt him. “Did I pinch too hard?”

“No, no angel, you’re fine. Doing a great job actually.” He replied, trying to collect himself. He could not let himself think of that right now. There were more important things at hand. 

“You sure?” You asked him, not looking convinced.

“Positive.” He replied, grabbing your arm and pulling you back in (but making sure to keep you at a healthy distance from his dick). 

You added a few more bandages, most of the cuts only needing one or two, before pulling away again to rummage through his bag. “What do you use on your bruises?”

“This one,” he said, leaning over you and grabbing a tube from the kit. You turned, your lips almost brushing over each other with how close you were. 

“Hi,” you whispered, all thoughts completely flying out of your head as you realized just how badly you wanted to kiss him. 

“Hi angel,” he said smiling softly at you. 

Seeing you debate it in your head, Peter decided it would be easier for the both of you if he did it first. Leaning in, he closed the distance and smoothly took your lips in his. You melted into the kiss right away, feeling like you’d been craving this your whole life when really, you’d just kissed his a few hours ago before you’d left work. 

Your hands were on his bare chest, you could feel every muscle, every move when-

“Wait, you’re hurt!” You pulled away, leaving a pouting Peter in your wake. 

“My lips work just fine angel,” he said, trying to steal another kiss while you tried to avoid him. 

“But..let me finish at least,” you mumbled against his lips, barely getting a chance to pull away after he’d caught you. 

“You can finish, just lemme do this first,” he responded before kissing you again.

“Hey,” you mumbled against his lips. 

He hummed in response, moving to kiss your cheek, your jawline. If he kept this up you might not try to stop him. 

“Did you know Freddy took the bar exam? And passed?”

That got him to pull away. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at you confusedly, “I’m kissing you and you decide this a good time to bring up Freddy?”

“Well, y’know,” you shrugged, “figured it was as good a time as any.”

He scoffed, “Unbelievable.”

You giggled, “I win.” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, pulling away before he could catch you and turn it into more.

“Now lay down, lemme do this,” you said waving the cream at him. 

He moved grumpily and you thought grumpy Peter was the cutest thing ever. The furrow of his brows, the slight pout of his lips. You could just kiss him. And you would’ve if you hadn’t known where it would lead you. 

You unscrewed the cap to the cream and started applying it gently. “So Fred’s a lawyer huh?” Peter spoke up. 

“He is!” You whispered excitedly, glad he was just as shocked as you were. 

“And you learned this how?” He asked, giving you a look. 

You shrugged. “He let me in and I talked to him, asked him a few questions to get to know him better since I see him everywhere.” 

“Wait, he’s here right now?”

“Yeah,” you said slowly, “I thought you knew?”

“No I didn’t-,” he let out a sigh, “whatever it's basically his apartment too at this point I guess.”

You laughed, “And you’re okay with that?”

He shrugged with his good side. “He buys the good beer.”

You laughed again. “He scored a 350 on the bar exam!”

Peter’s brows shot up. “Oh shit.”

“I know! The only thing I knew about him was that he blacked out in that frat house’s pool all night and the cops were called cause someone thought he was dead.”

“Yeah, he’s super lucky he was on his back. Just floated around the pool like a leaf.”

You shook your head, screwing the cap back on the tube of cream, “Crazy. But anyway, I’m done. And on the plus side,” you grinned at him, “if you ever get in legal trouble, you know someone!”

He laughed out loud, and you watched as his face scrunched up and he clutched his side in pain. Apologizing for the joke, you gave him a kiss on the cheek to make up for it. 

“Enough about crazy Freddy,” he let out a sigh, “I’m gonna go put some clothes on, and then I wanna cuddle with my girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words and all you could do was smile as he stood up, giving you a kiss on the side of your head before he moved to pick out some clothes.

You watched him get dressed, biting your lip as you watched how his muscles rippled with each of his movements. You always knew he was strong but seeing him like that, was a completely different story. 

“Like what you see?” He asked, smirking at you before he lifted his shirt, holding it up between his teeth as he tied his sweatpants. 

Your mouth fell open. And being caught and also at…how absolutely hot he looked right now. If he wasn’t injured, you would be all. over. him. 

“S’alright angel,” he said as he stalked towards you. He was enjoying this, a lot. “I’m sure I’d be the same if the roles were reversed.”

That did not help. Now you were thinking about being naked in front of Peter and-

He laughed, kissed the side of your head again, and laid down, pulling next to him. 

“Careful Peter, you’re still hurt!” You chastised him. 

He shook his head, “You made me feel a hundred times better. Thank you, angel.”

“Of course Petey.” He smiled at you as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight. 

“So, you came to see me right? Y’know, before the whole finding out I’m Spider-Man thing. What’s up?”

“Oh I almost forgot,” you perked up, tilting your head up so you could see his face, “I think I totally aced that chemistry exam!”

“Angel! I’m so proud of you!” He started attacking you with kisses, kissing you anywhere his lips could reach. 

You giggled, “Thank you sweetie, but seriously I owe you most of the credit, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Nonsense,” he shook his head, “that was all you. I barely helped, you learned everything and then took that quiz, and aced it.”

“Well I haven’t gotten my grade back yet, I just have a really good feeling, so don’t sound too are there's a chance I didn’t do as well as I thought.”

“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “I have a sense, a spidey sense. And my spidey sense is telling me that you totally aced that thing. No questions asked.”

You laughed loudly. “Spidey sense?”

“No questions,” he repeated as he nuzzled his nose into your hair. 

“Fine then,” you snuggled up further into him. “No questions.”

[starfxkr]

please i need more angst with tp!jj x reader

literally makes me so emotional cause she loves him so much and she can’t understand why he will never love her (he will but she doesn’t know that)

like if she started to distance herself from him i mean not leave him cause she knows she’ll never leave but like fr starts being distant and detached cause she so hurt…would he even notice? maybe she knows he won’t but she does it anyway cause she desperately wants him to care ugh oh my god someone kill me cause this concept makes me so sad

if she started to distance herself at first jj would be slightly thrown off, because he's used to the whining and begging but his feelings work win stages. at one point he's kinda relieved, he thinks it finally got in her head that this isn't a serious relationship so she shouldn't treat it like one.

but the problem is she starts going home. well maybe not exactly home, but she doesn't spend the night anymore, they fuck, she leaves and that's very strange to him because doesn't she realize it's a big deal he lets her sleep over? and he cooks her breakfast? and it starts to sink in that he likes having her around and it kills him when she isn't.

too bad he fucked that up.

[riddles-n-games]

Hear me out on this; Averyjameson 1800s AU set in London. Basically Avery is a maid but she's really smart (duh, of course) and she wants to be a detective so she cross dresses as a young man. She becomes somewhat of a local celebrity with her abilities but someone might be onto her. A young fellow (I wonder who? 👀) meets her and asks for her help. He seems like a regular street lad (berries and cream, berries and cream) but Avery recognizes him as the duke's third grandson. The duke just so happens to be her employer so she is quite familiar with him. Avery isn't very happy about the circumstances but she promises to help.

After some time, the two become good friends while she's under her guise. However, once during the day she is sent out to market to grab some fresh ingredients for the cook (Libby) and Jameson encounters her, recognizing her as one of the maids that works for his family. He cheekily flirts with her (oh the scandal) and she politely tries to turn him down but despite her sarcastic remarks, he is charmed by her. He also says that she reminds him of someone he knows and Avery immediately is alarmed. She isn't sure of what to do.

Over the course of a year, she continues to still hastily dress up in her alter ego and meet up with Jameson but in the same time he starts being more around her while she works around the mansion. At first, she's reluctant to really warm up to him as herself but over time she does and it's like their disguised selves' friendship. (Emily is in this; she's definitely still possessive and comes to find out that Jameson has been friendly with a maid of all people, unchaperoned too [oh the horror] which she tries to use against Avery but Jameson isn't interested and he gets mad at Emily when he finds out.) Anyways, Jameson has been catching feelings for her and Avery is too but somewhat more subtly. Jameson also starts getting suspicions about Avery's alter and Avery bows out, making excuses and everything else just to get him off her trail about who she really is. But that doesn't last long as they get in a fight over Emily and Avery blurts about the mystery, causing Jameson to realize that his suspicions were correct. He chases her and while he is a bit upset, he tries to ask her why she didn't want to reveal that to him and she tells him she had her reasons since she wanted to help the less fortunate, etc. She says that if he wishes, she can quit or whatever and in the middle of her blubbering, he leans down to kiss her. Of course, she's stunned but returns the kiss and he breaks away, leading her somewhere where they can talk in private. He tells her of new developments with the mystery and the wheels start churning as they do and yada yada.

Soon they catch the culprit and Jameson invites her to this ball where he intends to ask to court her officially but Emily is there and tries to blow this plan apart but the duke steps in and gives his blessing. (I don't know where Toby fits in but he's there somewhere, giving his nephew the stink eye.) And then they lived happily ever after solving mysteries and everything in between.