#she also like if she was ever thrift shopping | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

euphoricfilter · 1 year

Note

I’m asking for the most gut twist smut with hickeys and scratching on the back like ughh with hobi like make it so sm smut

𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞:

pairing: incubus! hoseok x human! reader

genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au

summary: you hadn’t exactly planned to summon Hoseok, though you will admit— he knew how to fuck you within an inch of your life.

word count: 6.8k

tags/ warnings: fluff, very briefly mentioned anxiety, 2 smut scenes that include: dom! hobi, sub! reader, huge demon cock! hoseok, it has ridges along the length of it, oral (m & f receiving), throat bulge, public sex, exhibitionalism, they almost get caught.., vaginal fingering, a singular slap to her pussy, vaginal worshiping?, squirting, nipple play, belly bulge, cumflation?, he cums a lot all the time, lots of hickies, scratching, biting, brief mentions of blood, tail fucking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fucking in front of a mirror, praise kink, unprotected sex (he’s a demon, don’t be stupid), multiple creampies, this is all very very very unrealistic i’m aware but also it’s fiction

notes: i’m sorry this had way more plot than i’d intended it to have :’) it is mainly smut though!

request rules can be found here || my masterlist

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

The students in your lecture seemed too preoccupied with Hoseok’s face rather than his sudden appearance, and it’s a wonder how your professor hadn’t seemed to notice his looming aura yet either. Hoseok wasn’t exactly the most discrete entity, even when he hid his ever so cliché horns and tail, his whole being just screamed for attention. That, and the poor guy didn’t know how to be quiet for the life of him; a trait you’ve slowly gotten used to over time.

Summoning an incubus hadn’t been on your to-do list that one dreaded weekend, but somehow it happened, and now you couldn’t get rid of him; soul bonds or something. Demon talk you didn’t even want to try to understand, the less you interacted with him, the better. Or that’s what you’d thought at the time, not realising the implications of what this new relationship meant. And maybe if you told you from a few years ago what your life looked like now, you’d be buried six feet under from a heart attack.

Hoseok did try to explain everything but even he seemed confused so you just told him to shut it so you could process your newfound problem. Your dorm room wasn’t exactly built for two people, and although your new demonic roommate had assured you the couch was fine; you still felt a little bad. Even if you didn’t like him all that much—not that you’d made that clear, you were ever so shy, and to put it nicely, very socially awkward that when he announced he was staying all you could really do was nod.

Truthfully, Hoseok hadn’t even done anything for you to hate him. You simply planned to live a quite university life, get your degree and then lose contact with everyone you’ve met and live a simple work life, be a slave to society until you can retire and maybe live in a house by the coast with a dog or two until you fall down the stairs and they pronounce your unfortunate death to zero kids, because you didn’t want any.

Not whatever the hell this was.

You blamed the grimy old woman at the thrift shop who had insisted you buy the shitty old piece of pottery.

She’d seemed so nice at the time but now that you look back at your interaction, you could see the mirth swimming in her eyes, and if you had the confidence then you would have gone back to that crappy old store and throttled her, telling her she can take her piece of shit incubus back; because you didn’t want him.

How were you supposed to know not to light your black candles next to the vase? It wasn’t like she’d given you an instruction manual on how to take care of the pottery and you’d thought it would have been pretty straight forward—apparently not. You’d planned for it to be out back in the dumpster by nightfall but by some miracle it had glued itself to your shelving and not it was a permanent fixture of your room.

It had taken months for you to finally realise that maybe having Hoseok around wasn’t actually the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. It was like having a boyfriend without all the awkward get-to-know each other stuff and the actual relationship part, that you absolutely despised. Plus he didn’t nag you about misogynistic bullshit all hours of the day and respected your very uptight boundaries.

Hobi had no qualms about ordering when the two of you went out, skipping up to the counter with a bright smile that more often times than not he’d come back with a free drink for you.

He trailed behind you to classes and all the sleazy old men that liked to catcall you on the way home after an evening lecture had been very quiet since Hoseok had been around. Plus, you could listen to music without the worry of having to listen out for someone sneaking up on you as well. He held your hand when you crossed the road and made sure you were on the safer side of the pavement so no unexpected bikes would ram into you.

He didn’t mind walking around the supermarkets with you, didn’t mind as you stood in the cereal aisle for half an hour because a lot of them made you feel nauseas. And your preference would change each week.

“You liked this one last time, baby” he’d pull a box from the top shelf, simply smiling when you shake your head.

“Wheat makes me wanna throw up” you tell him.

“How about something a little tastier then?” he wiggles his eyebrows, and you half expect him to make a sex joke, though he simply pulls a box of coco puffs from behind his back.

He didn’t mind helping you clean the bathroom or fold up your clean laundry into colour coordinated piles because he knew you hated mixing.

He liked to brush your hair after a shower or massage your shoulders after you’d been hunched over your desk all day, he learnt to cook human food and liked feeding you when you got sleepy while the two of you watched a cheesy rom com on your shitty old laptop; you curled around his thighs as his thumb caressed the bare skin of your neck.

“Eat up, darling. You’ll need to energy tonight” and you open your mouth, unfortunate rejection on your tongue, “to study of course, why are your cheeks suddenly really red?”

Now, there are two sides to the demon.

Pretty, sunshine hobi that loved taking care of you, loved chatting, who had a heart-shaped smile and the kindest heart. Who on more than one occasion would temp you to press a kiss to his cheek in thanks, perfect perfect hobi that made you feel like a high school girl whose experiencing their first ever crush.

And then there was Jung Hoseok. The sex driven incubus who had no qualms about fucking you within an inch of your life, like you were nothing but a hole for him to fill and fuck as he pleased until he was satisfied and your legs were shaking, his name the only coherent thought in your mind until you coated his cock with your arousal. Only, he’d never stop at one orgasm.

Hoseok had been your first. And you think losing your virginity to a sex demon had completely ruined sex for you all together. How were you meant to enjoy being with a regular, average, man when you’d had Hoseok’s demon cock shoved so far inside your pussy it felt like he was in your throat?

Had you dabbled in the occasional demon hentai? Maybe. Not that Hoseok ever needed to know that. Was it as great as you imagined it to be? Yes. He also didn’t need to know that.

It was honestly a win-win situation for the both of you. Hobi got to feed off your arousal and you got to live out your darkest fantasy.

You always wondered how it was so easy for him to filter out his incubi tendencies when he always seemed to have sex on his mind. The moment the two of you were alone it wouldn’t be surprising for him to pull you into his lap, your cunt having been stretched to the shape of his cock, that now you always seemed ready for him to just slip inside of you. His hands up your skirt when you go out to eat or dragging you into a bathroom because his dick always seemed to be hard.

“Good girl” Hoseok croons, watching as you blink up at him through your lashes—cheeks wet with tears as he tugs you further down his cock by your hair. Each slippery inch being fed into your mouth.

You choke around his length, eyes squeezing shut when he runs a gentle thumb over your eyelids. Pulling you further down his cock until he pushes down your throat.

You swallow, needy moan vibrating down his length that he throws his head back. Hips stuttering forward and you feel another inch slip into your mouth; lips stretched wide you can feel them start to ache.

“Always so good for me, baby. Like having me shoved this far down your throat?” he chuckles and you move to pull off his length, only he thrusts his hips forward. “You haven’t even gotten all of me inside you yet, I know you can do better than this”

“I trained you better than this”

Your fingers grab onto his thighs, nails digging into the meaty skin as he gently pulls back, only to shove his length back down your mouth. You feel your legs shake, scratching at his thighs as he allows your throat to relax, helping ease the rest of his cock into your mouth.

Your hand flies to your throat as he sets up a pace he likes, and you can feel the bulge of his cock as he punches back into your windpipe with each brutal thrust.

You can feel your knees start to ache, grimy bathroom tiles digging into the skin as you’re pulled further down his length, just past half way.

“So close, just a little more” he groans, fingers tangling in the back of your hair. Brutal as he harshly tugs you back down with ever thrust out.

You can feel each of the tiny ridges along his length against your tongue. And he lets out a particularly jittery thrust when you tongue at each individual ridge; hoping to bring him closer to bliss.

Your hands find his balls, nails accident scraping the silky skin as he jostles you forward, and that’s all it takes for Hoseok to shove all of his length down your throat, and you wince as you feel a flood of his cum shoot down your throat.

Periodically you swallow, always wary of his cum flooding your mouth. The first time you’d sucked him off hadn’t ended all to great with you chocking on his inhumane amount of cum. Of course he’d apologized, though he made it his mission to train you until you’d be able to take his cock down your throat without drowning in his seed.

Your tongue runs along the length of his cock, cleaning it, and you feel it twitch in interest.

You stare up at Hoseok, eyes deadpan and he gives you a sheepish smile. “Cant help it, my love. You on your knees always gets me going”

Gently he pulls his length out of your mouth and you lurch forward, arms braced on his thighs as you take a deep breath; swallowing the rest of his cum that had leaked into your mouth.

“Everything gets you going, Hobi” you cough, hand caressing your throat as you peek up at him, voice hoarse.

He simply shrugs, “What are we gonna tell your friends?”

You deflate at that. “They obviously knew what we were doing in here”

“Want me to eat you out until they get bored and leave?” he suggests.

You blink up at him, “You’re insatiable” you laugh, hand running over your chin to clean any drool, though you expect there to be more cum than anything.

“And you’re wet, we both win” he tugs you up from under your arms, “Swap”

You fall onto the seat of the toilet, watching as Hoseok pulls his shorts back up around his waist before he’s kneeling before you.

“Use me” he pouts, and your thighs twitch. Though you don’t miss the evident mirth swimming in his eyes.

“Hobi” you whisper, and he watches as you squirm.

“Hmmm?” he asks, spreading your legs and he groans at the sight of your panties, wet spot ever so tempting as he runs his thumb over your covered pussy.

“Hold your skirt up for me, baby” and he smiles when you do as you’re told, “good girl”

He leans forward, kissing your clit over the cotton. And you let out an embarrassed squeak when he runs his tongue over your covered slit.

“Hobi” your fingers tangle into his hair, tugging gently to bring him closer to where you needed him the most.

“What’s the matter?” he murmurs, kissing the inside of your thigh, teeth nipping the skin.

He lathes his tongue over the hickies he’d left that morning, your skin still tender that you moan when you feel him kiss over the skin.

“Need you” you whine, hips bucking forward. Only he holds you down, immersed in painting your inner thighs red and purple with his lust and love.

Your hands fly to cover your mouth when the bathroom door swings open, Hoseok choosing that exact time to sink his teeth into the plush skin of your thigh. Your legs fall shut around his head, and demon only pushes them back apart, tongue running over the blossoming bite.

He smiles up at you, deft fingers pushing your panties to the side. You go to push his head away, eyes squeezing shut when he pulls the hood back, thumb circling your clit.

You jolt up on the toilet seat, ceramic clank echoing throughout the bathroom. Whoever else was in there with you goes silent, and you hold your breath, pushing Hoseok away from you.

The two of you sit there, and you release a sigh of relief when you hear the other person flush.

Your cheeks flush red when you look down at Hoseok who seems utterly mesmerized by your cunt. Watching as it clenches around nothing, a dribble of arousal dripping down onto the seat of the toilet. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you flinch when the tap starts to run.

Hoseok leans forward, tongue peeking from behind his lips to lick a long stripe up your slit to your clit, his hands remain on your thighs keeping them spread wide enough for him to slot perfectly where he wanted to be.

His lips wrap around your clit, and your muscles loosen when you hear the door to the bathroom click shut.

“You asshole” you whisper, voice shaky as he teases a finger around your hole. You muffle a moan when he pushes it inside you, lips still wrapped around your clit; a particularly hard suck causing you to slip down the toilet seat.

You feel the stretch when he adds a second finger, scissoring you open as his tongue continues to flick over your clit.

He pulls away and you whine at the loss of pleasure, “Be a good girl and hold your legs open for me”

Your feel the blush rise to your cheeks, red hue traveling down your neck as you hook your hands behind you knees; spreading yourself as wide as you can in the narrow bathroom cubicle.

Hoseok easily lifts your hips, pulling you until your bottom half was practically dangling off the toilet as he pulls your underwear off— stuffing the fabric somewhere in his pocket for later.

“This is uncomfortable” you groan, mouth falling open when you feel his fingers lay a mean slap over your went cunt; and if the lick of pleasure hadn’t wracked through your body then you might have been a little more embarrassed about the lewd, wet sound it had made.

“Only wanna hear you moaning my name” he grumbles, lips attaching to your folds as he spreads them with his fingers.

Your head tips back when you feel his tongue prod your entrance, stiff muscle pushing past your rim and Hoseok groans when another gush of your arousal coats his mouth.

One thing Hoseok absolutely loved about you, was how wet you’d get when horny. You always seemed to leak so much that he could live off your slick alone if he so desired— his favorite meal. Because even your arousal tasted like the sweetest nectar and he would never get enough.

He kisses over your hole, face moving up until he’s kissing over your clit, “Hell, you have the prettiest cunt” he groans, kissing over your mound before his lips are sucking at your clit again.

You feel two of his fingers plunge back into you, curling upwards in the way that you start to see stars behind your eyelids.

Your hips rut forwards to meet each of his thrusts, deft fingers expertly locating that little spot inside of you, and you can start to feel the pressure build in the pit of your stomach.

“Hobi—“ you moan when he sucks especially hard on your clit, tongue flicking it, “Fuck, Hoseok— I can’t— fuck, I can’t squirt in the fucking bathroom” you whine, though it seems to fall on deaf ears as he picks up the pace of his fingers.

“Doing so well for me, gonna cum?” he briefly pulls away, your clit pulsating as his warm breath fans over the sensitive little bud. He wastes no time, tongue back to flicking your clit with a newfound vigor as you moan his name.

And suddenly the world outside the cubicle is the furthest thing from your mind as Hoseok adds a third finger into your cunt. Your mouth falls open into a silent scream, thighs shaking that your hands slip from where you’d been holding them. That doesn’t stop Hoseok, grunting as your thighs fall over his shoulders and the demon is in absolute bliss as they clamp around his head.

Your fingers tighten their grip in his hair, and he groans as you start to grind over his face.

You can feel it, bubbling pleasure starting to build, so close to your orgasm. And Hoseok doesn’t stop, he pulls his mouth off your clit. Spare hand coming up between your legs, two fingers rubbing over your sensitive pearl.

“Hoseok” you mewl, hips bucking upwards.

“Cum for me, darling. Be a good girl and cum” he groans, his voice gravelly. And that’s what pushes you over the edge, you feel the built up pressure start to release.

Hoseok pulls his fingers out of your hole, though he doesn’t stop his assault on your clit. He smiles, mouth wide open as he lets your explosion of juices coat his tongue.

“Again. Squirt for me again”

You open your mouth to tell him you can’t, only you let out a choked moan when his fingers push back into your hole— he can feel your walls pulsating around them, clenching so hard he wonders what you would feel like around his cock in that moment.

Your thighs continue to shake, fingers still drawing tight circles on your clit. The moan you let out is pornographic, squeaky little cries tumbling off your tongue when you reach a second orgasm. Hoseok watches as your cunt pushes out a short stream of your cum, wetting the backside of your skirt as you continue to grind again this palm, riding out your high.

You snivel, chest stuttering for a breath as he gently rubs his thumb against your clit.

“S’ too much” you hiccup, though your hips make no move in stopping.

“Yeah?” the faux frown he gives you causing another dribble of watery arousal out of your hole.

“We’re both wet now”

“You can wear my jacket around your waist if you want” his thrumming at you clit stops and you mourn at the loss of contact.

“What about your shirt?” you go to push yourself to sit up, though that fails when your limbs all feel like jelly.

“It’ll dry” he shrugs.

“But we have to walk through the cafe, and i’m pretty sure I look like shit” your head tips back.

“You’re always pretty” he sniggers when your thighs twitch as he places another gentle kiss to your swollen clit.

“You kind have to say that” you frown.

“And why’s that?”

“So you can win me over and fuck me”

Hoseok laughs, shoulders shaking at that. “Don’t need to tell you you’re pretty for that, darling. You seemed hooked after I’d fucked your brains out the first time”

“Was not”

“Was too. You demon sex freak”

“Am not!” you scoff scandalized, “anyways… do you think those guys left? We’ve been in here a while”

“Probably. I’m pretty sure that was one of them earlier that came in here” he shrugs and your eyes widen.

“Hobi what the fuck” your thighs clamp shut, suddenly aware that your bare pussy was just out in the open for him to see. You shove the fabric of your skirt between your thighs, instant regret washing over your when your feel your sticky arousal cling to the fabric.

“I can’t believe it. I said no more sex in public bathrooms” you cry.

“Well, look what happened. Can’t help that you’re a cockslut”

Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing a deep shade of red as you push Hoseok away with your foot to his chest. He takes a hold of your ankle, pressing a gentle kiss to your calf as he looks up at you from the floor.

“My cockslut” he corrects.

“That doesn’t make anything better” you rub your eyes with the palms of your hands.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? I’ll treat you to ice cream” he grins.

“You don’t have any money” you deadpan and he shrugs.

“No, but the girl that works in that shop a block away gave me a voucher last time”

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Living with anxiety was absolute dogshit. Every grueling day always seemed a million times worse but it’s like no one ever took you seriously. Because it was all for attention right? You didn’t enjoy having panic attacks and you sure as hell didn’t enjoy them when other people were around.

Though you suppose Hoseok had become the exception; he’d gotten pretty good at helping you when days seemed a little tougher than usual. And he’d weaves his way into your anxious little mind, one of the only people that you’ve felt even remotely comfortable to be around without your social battery plummeting 15 minutes into an outing.

You think you must have had one of the worst days of your life.

On a regular day you could get away with lurking in the back of the lecture hall; maybe a quick hello to a few people that you’ve gone to lunch with once or twice and then slip out the door the moment class is over.

Today you hadn’t been that lucky.

It had started with some random guy that you’ve never seen the face of confessing his undying love for you. And you would have thought it was sweet, if you knew who he was.

You hadn’t even heard his name floating around campus, nor had you ever seen his face; and maybe that’s because you always walked with your head to the floor but surely he couldn’t be in love with you when neither of you had ever uttered a word to one another?

You’d frozen. Unable to form a thought let alone a rejection for the guy. And as his growing annoyance showed, so did your anxiety.

And you’d rather forget that you’d cried, pearly tears slipping down your cheeks when he’d laughed at you; calling you a worthless piece of shit and that he couldn’t believe he liked something like you.

And that’s how you ended up late for class. Having spent a hour in the bathroom trying to regulate your breathing enough that your classmates didn’t think you were going into cardiac arrest.

The second incident was your breaking point. A girl from your lecture had started shouting at you after class, and you had no idea why. And you’d just sat there and taken it. Sure she’d been rude first but you would have felt way worse if you’d gotten up and just left when she clearly had something to say.

“You’re back late” Hoseok calls from your bed, mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

He looks up when you don’t reply, eyebrows creasing in worry when he sees the state you’re in.

“Oh darling, what happened?” he pushes himself off the bed, long legs easily bringing him towards you.

You just flop into his chest, arms wrapping around his torso as feel another wave of tears cascade down your cheeks.

“Bad day” you snivel and he hums, rocking the two of you back and forth, “Wanna forget, Hobi”

“Yeah?” he croons, hand resting on the back of your neck, “How’d you wanna forget?”

You gently take hold of his wrist, bringing his hand down until they tease the waistband of your sweats. “Wanna be fucked dumb” you whisper and he smiles down at you.

“Fucked until you can’t think?”

“Mmhmm” you nod, blissed out sigh releasing from your chest when he throws you over his shoulder. You smile as you see his tail, horns probably hidden under the hood of his jumper that you hadn’t noticed when you’d walked in. Even with his demonic features, Hoseok was a thing of beauty.

You bounce when he throws you on the bed— frame creaky. But by a stroke of luck, none of your dorm-mates were home right now.

“My pretty baby” he crawls over your body, straddling your waist and you can already see the outline of his cock through his thin pyjama pants.

You reach out, palming his bulge as he leans down to press a wet kiss to your neck. He pulls your shirt over your head, teeth nipping at your bare skin and you moan at the slight sting.

You don’t worry about the plethora of love bites he plans to scatter across your skin, rather, you bask in the pleasure the twinge of pain gives you. Back arching when you feel his sharp canines dig into the skin of your shoulder— and Hoseok groans at the tang of metal on his tongue.

“Sorry, baby” he presses a kiss over the bite, your skin flaring red as his tongue licks over his teeth marks.

“S’ okay” you breathe, hips rolling upwards— clit nudging against his hard cock.

Hoseok’s hand reaches under your arched back, fingers expertly unclasping your bra before he’s pulling it off your shoulders.

His hands trail over your body, thumbs brushing over your steadily hardening nipples and you hand flies to cover your mouth.

“Always so sensitive” he coos, meanly pinching the hardened buds before tugging. “Uh uh, wanna hear you” he tuts and your hand falls to your side.

“It’s embarrassing—” you whisper, breathe hitching when he twists your nipples, delicious pain sending arousal straight to your soaked cunt. You feel your sticky arousal drip into your panties, fabric clinging to your folds uncomfortably.

“Nothing embarrassing about feeling good” Hoseok smiles down at you, fingers skimming over your waist until he’s tugging both your sweats and panties down in one. “Already so wet for me”

“Want your cock, Hobi” you whine as he rubs his thumb through your slit, gathering your arousal to circle your clit.

“Can I eat you out first, baby? Wanna make sure you’re prepped enough for me, hmm?”

You blink up at him before you spread your legs wider, a silent invitation for him to do whatever he needs before he fucks you.

Hoseok falls to his knees on the floor, arms hooking around your thighs. And your hands instinctively grab onto the sheets when he tugs you to the edge of the bed.

His index finger circles your entrance, humming when another wave of slick dribbles out your hole. He pushes his finger past your hole, your walls clenching rhythmically around the digit as he tests the waters.

He pulls out, pushing a second finger in— stretching you open. Your hips roll to meet his thrusts, Hoseok’s thumb gently circling your clit. You feel the stretch when he adds a third finger, your eyebrows furrowing at the slight ache.

“You good?” Hoseok peers up at you, trying to gauge your reaction. Your thigh twitching when he slowly eases his fingers back into you.

“Hurts a little” you grunt, thighs threatening to snap shut when he speeds up his thumb over your sensitive little bundle of nerves.

“Already?” he laughs, “I haven’t been fucking you enough lately”

You smile, fingers gripping onto the sheets tighter when Hoseok slightly curls his fingers. Your hips bucking upwards when he finds that little spot inside of you that has the pressure of an orgasm building in your stomach.

The ache of having three fingers inside you ebbs away the more he gently thrusts them inside of you, “Another one” you sigh when you feel a fourth finger tease your entrance.

“You sure?”

“Please Hobi, wanna feel full” you urge, hands grabbing onto your tits, fingers teasing your hard nipples when you feel the stretch of a fourth finger.

“Good girl, you’re doing so well for me” he presses a kiss over your clit. His fingers pick up their pace, lewd squelch from your cunt enough for you to squirm in embarrassment.

“Please Hobi” your thighs shake, clamping around his hand though that doesn’t seem to deter him from curling all four fingers inside of you, knuckle deep. “Wanna cum around your cock”

“Yeah?” he breathes and you nod.

A rush of slick drips onto the bedsheets as Hoseok pulls his fingers out of your sodden cunt, the demon unashamed as he licks your arousal off of them.

He watches as your pussy gapes, clenching around nothing, begging to be filled and fucked, coated in his cum until it stains your thighs.

“Ready for me?” he pushes himself back onto the bed, hands hooking under your arms, throwing you further up the bed so he can make home between your thighs.

You watch as he pulls his pyjama pants down his legs, thick thighs flexing in a way you want to just sink your teeth into the hefty muscle.

Your cunt clenches around nothing as you watch Hoseok wrap his hand around his length, tips of his fingers barely meeting at the girth of it.

“Please, want you inside” you whine, hips rolling into nothing, and Hoseok watches a pout mould onto your soft lips.

Hoseok braces his arms over your head, leaving down to kiss you. His tongue licks over the seam, a silent request for access that you allow.

You moan into his mouth when you feel something prod at your entrance, whatever it was, the tip was as thin as a finger, easily slipping between your soaked walls.

Hoseok pushes his tongue into further into your mouth, tongue pressed against your own. Kiss wet and messy just the way he liked it, drool coating both of your chins.

“Fucking hell Hoseok, is that your tail?” you moan when you feel the appendage inside of you thicken with each agonizingly slow inch that wiggles it’s way between your walls.

He hums, bringing you in for another kiss as his tail pulls out to the tip, wasting no time ramming back into you. Hoseok drinks up your moans, the sweetest melody.

Your arms wrap around his neck, hips bucking to meet his thrusts, tip of his tail nudging your g-spot.

“Close” you whine, fingers digging into his back. Hoseok groans, ramming his tail as far into you as he can, tickling pain shooting straight to his cock as he feels you paint red lines over his back.

He pushes himself down, teeth clamping harshly around your nipple, your back arches; desperate moan clawing up your throat as you reach your high. Your sodden cunt soaks Hoseok’s tail, wide base stretching your walls apart obscenely that you cry as he pulls it out of you.

If you cunt hadn’t been gaping, it was now.

“On your knees, darling” he gives your thigh a gentle tap.

You push yourself up on shaky arms, flopping forward, only keeping your hips raised.

Hoseok runs his hands over your ass, pulling your cheeks apart as he runs a thumb over your soaked folds, thumb easily slipping inside you with no resistance.

“Ready for me?” he asks, gentle hands running over your sides and you hum.

“Words, baby”

“Ready for you” you push your hips back, moaning when his thick cock catches your thigh.

You feel his pre-cum stain your thigh, angling your hips until you feel his tip nudge your opening.

“Inside please” you look back, watching Hoseok fist his length before he’s guiding it towards your winking hole.

He runs the head of his cock through your slit, another rush of slick dribbling out your hole onto his length and Hoseok groans.

You can feel the pop of the flared head as Hoseok pushes past your entrance, first few inches gliding in with ease as you rock back into him.

You jolt forwards when you feel the demon’s fingers circling your clit, and Hoseok pauses when your cunt squeezes around his length.

“Still a tight fit” he rolls his hips, no real force in his thrusts.

“Faster” you beg, legs spreading wider in hopes of his cock pushing further into you.

Hoseok snaps his hips forwards, and you can feel the ridges along the length of his cock drag against your walls as he pulls out half way before he’s ramming his cock back inside of you.

You think you can feel him in your stomach, punching the air out of your lungs with each wet smack of his thighs meeting the back of your own.

“Like that?” he grunts, “Like being my personal little toy? Your cunt moulded around my cock. I bet a puny human wouldn’t be able to get you off anymore— i’ve ruined you for everyone” the laugh Hoseok let’s out is mean, though it all sounds muffled to you, your own moans overshadowing everything else.

You let out a sob when he gives a particularly deep thrust, your cunt clenching around his length so tight he slows down.

“Good girl, you gonna cum?” he asks, fingers finding their way back to your clit, expertly flicking the little bud, and it has you seeing stars.

You slowly start to feel your orgasm rise, each brutal thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

“Come on, baby” he groans, picking up the pace.

Your mouth falls open, pure bliss wracking through your body as you reach your peak. Little hiccups follow your orgasm, harmonized with the wet slapping of your cunt. Hoseok uncaring as he continues to thrust into you, hips jackhammering and fingers thrumming at your clit with newfound vigor.

“Too much, too much” you cry, trying to pull your hips away from him, cock head punching into your prostate.

“Hold on baby” he groans, fingers digging into the meat of your hips, dragging you back onto his cock, you feel him twitch between your walls and you know he’s close.

Hoseok feels as your walls clench sporadically around his cock, he slams into you before cumming; flooding— painting your walls white.

You choke at the amount of cum that fills you up, hot, thick seed spilling into your stomach with how far inside of you he was. And your thighs shake as you’re met with another orgasm, juices mixing with what was already inside of you.

His thumbs run gently over your hips, sure to bruise in the coming hours with how harsh his grip had been though that will be the least of your worries.

“You cum too much” you whisper, head spinning as you feel another wave of cum slosh into your stomach.

He gently pulls back a few inches before he’s rolling his hips, pushing his cum back into you.

“Think you can do one more?” he asks, cock still hard.

Your thighs shake when he slowly picks up the pace. And you groan when he pulls you up by your arms, your back meeting his chest.

“Can you see that?” his hand turns your face by your chin, and your eyes glaze over both of your bodies in the full-length mirror opposite the bed.

You look like a mess, eyes glazed over in lust and tears, skin blotchy with purple and a set of very distinct teeth marks littering your neck. Both of your bodies have a sheen over them, sweat— and probably your cum in Hoseok’s case. But that isn’t what he was pointing at.

He feels your cunt clench around his length as your eyes connect with your stomach, a little bloated, so much of his cum inside of you, your tummy had distended a little.

He runs his hand over the little bulge under your belly button, cock so far inside of you that the head was pushing up into your stomach.

He pushes down on the bulge, and the both of you moan in unison.

“Look at that baby. I really am in your stomach, huh” he laughs, pulling up up a little, both of you watching as the head of his cock disappears before he’s dropping you back down on his length, watching the bulge reform.

Your hand runs over your stomach, feeling Hoseok’s cock twitch inside of you when you push down. Your thighs twitch, arm wrapping around his neck as he starts to thrust upwards.

A ring of white forms around the base of his cock as he thrusts up into you. Pace not as fast as before but the image in the mirror is enough for you to start tumbling towards your release.

“Play with yourself, darling” Hoseok groans, dragging you up the length of his cock.

Your fingers find your clit, and you fall forwards at the intense pleasure that shoots up your spine. The increasing pace on your clit combined with each little ridge of Hoseok’s cock dragging ever so deliciously against your walls pulls you head first into another orgasm.

This one’s wetter, rush of liquid exploding onto the sheets below. You vision blurs over momentarily, fingers seizing on your clit as your legs shake. Hoseok continues to thrust up into you, your walls tightening around his cock.

Yoy hiccup a moan, and Hoseok feels himself tumble over the edge when he flicks once more at your clit, another rush of wetness joining your sodden bedsheets and foamy white cum that coats the insides of your thighs.

Hoseok watches as you black out for a moment, thighs still trembling as he cums inside of you. Another wave of thick cum joining what was already sloshing inside your tummy.

“Oh baby” he moans, watching as your stomach continues to bloat, he groans— head of his cock no longer visible as his cum bulges put your stomach.

Tears fall down your cheeks, you’d loved feeling this full. Hoseok’s cock plugging everything up inside of you.

Your thighs continue to tremble, wanting to close but Hoseok’s legs preventing you from doing so.

“You okay?” he asks when you look somewhat coherent.

You simply nod, breathe stuttering as your lungs try to compensate for the lack of oxygen.

“Did so well for me” Hoseok coos, hands running over your stomach.

Your pussy clenches, Hoseok finally starting to soften inside of you, knowing you wouldn’t be able to take another round of cum until what’s already inside of you is gone.

“I feel so full” you swallow thickly, head tilting down to look at your belly, “Why do you cum so much” your head falls back onto his shoulder.

“We didn’t put a towel down this time either” Hoseok tuts.

“Needed clean sheets anyways” you tell him.

“Ready for me to pull out then?” he asks and you frown.

There was something so fulfilling about being so full, stuffed until you were bloated with his seed. Everything Hoseok has to offer, plugged up inside of you— ever so warm and thick. The thought of him cumming inside you alone enough for you to tip over the edge again.

Gently Hoseok lays you back on the bed, your hips raised as his cock remains jammed inside of you.

“Do you have to?” you ask, and if Hoseok could see your face he thinks you’d be pouting.

“Gotta get cleaned up doll. I’ll eat you out in the shower if you want” he offers and you sigh.

Gently he eases his cock out of you, each ridge bumping against your walls that you feel more arousal start to leak out your hole. Overstimulation boarding too painful with each inch slipping out of your walls.

You feel the head pop out, a rush of thick cum following. You feel another wave of it fall onto the bedsheets when you clench, pussy gaping obscenely.

“Push it all out, darling. That’s it” Hoseok runs a hand over your ass, spreading your pussy lips as you force another gush of his cum out of you.

You moan when you feel two of his fingers work their way into your hole, another glob of cum dribbles out of you— your own watery arousal following soon after.

“Did so well for me” he praises, kissing the back of you thigh.

And maybe having a demon roommate wasn’t all that bad when you really think about it.

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #hoseok imagine #hoseok fanfic #hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #jhope fanfic #bts x reader #demon bts x reader #bts au #bts requests #bts au fanfic

2K notes · View notes

cyborg-franky · 1 year

Text

Shopping Trip With One Piece Characters

Part of a trade with the awesome @softcenteregg

Doffy - The very definition of “Get in loser, we’re going shopping!”

Has money but you will have to pay for him all day when it comes to lunch and drinks.

Will be sitting at a restaurant at 11 am with a cocktail as he tells you about his week, regardless of if you asked or not.

Checks out the mall hotties.

Laughs when people open push/pull doors wrong.

Always has a cocktail or a Starbucks clutched in one hand, waving his credit card around in the other hand.

Rude to salespeople.

You will be dragged through the mall for hours because he needs to go into every designer shop he can and try on at least seventeen pairs of $400 sunglasses or he’ll die.

Will be the most overdressed person in the area,

When your having lunch with him and he sees someone he doesn’t like, he will be like “Oh hey! Been so long since we hung out, should do it again soon!” then soon as they're gone he’s dishing the dirt.

Also, you will carry his bags, thx.

Roger

Makes you wish you could get those reigns for kids but in adult sizes.

In fact, the entire trip is like taking a child out for his birthday.

Ever seen a huge bearded man grinning in pure glee at the new limited edition Build a Bear products? Ever seen one make like 12?

Do yourself a favor and limit his booze and sugar intake.

Is confused he can’t do a pub crawl in a mall.

Buys alot of those ‘alcoholic chocolates’ by the box load in an attempt to get a nice buzz going.

Thrift shopping but he will try on everything he can.

Does not know how to dress but does it with style, oddly enough.

You won’t get a chance to sit down or rest unless it’s dinner time.

At least he’ll sleep well tonight.

Kid

Hit’s all the stores that sell music and band merch.

Will snort at people who buy things he doesn’t like.

Throws around words like ‘poser’ and judges everyone.

The kinda metal kid who hangs out at the mall with all the wallet chains looking like their parents grounded them, but in their late 20s.

Will spend hours looking for CDs and just say he’s too broke and he’ll download it online anyway.

Walks around the mall trying to find the right shade of lipstick with Killer, both their arms and hands are covered in testers before they both just get more black nail varnish and the same shade they always buy.

Has a reusable plastic cup that's full of jack and coke.

Taunts mall cops.

Killer

Imagine all of the above but he also spends alot of time looking at fancy new cook wear.

Will spend nothing on food all day but will drop $90 on a brand new crockpot or air fryer for the kitchen.

Very metal of him.

Thatch

Thatch is fun to go with.

Treats you, buys the coffee and lunch.

Is happy to do whatever you want as long as he gets to check out homeware sections while you look at your things.

You will never lose him behind shelves because you can always see his hair.

Like Jaws but with hair and ozone layer murdering levels of hairspray.

Will flirt with staff, will get talking to them for far too long, and hold up the line.

The type of person who has alot of change and makes it a personal challenge to count out change exactly.

Will carry your bags though, he’s a good boy.

Bit judgey on eatery places pastries.

Shanks

I hope you enjoy getting nowhere because when you're at a mall with Shanks or out and about in town you will be stopping every ten steps because someone recognises him and comes over and chats.

Has no concept of how long he’s been talking.

Is the type to have a pint with breakfast or brunch when you guys hang out.

Sale on ugly pants? He’d push you down to get there first.

Always texting the gang when he’s out.

Lol Benn guess what, I saw Buggy and he was with that guy, you know, the one with the hook, lol lol

Will drop Uta off at the mall kids' soft play area even though she’s 18 and still forget to pick her up before leaving.

Ace

Low key baits mall cops by loitering around and looking like an issue but has no intention of being an issue.

Might skateboard inside the mall.

Poses with ‘no skateboard’ signs.

Hopefully, there isn't an arcade in the mall because if you had any intention of getting things done today, that won’t happen now.

Hungry every 20 minutes and has to grab snacks.

100% the kinda friend/boyfriend who sits on the seats outside the changing rooms holding all the bags and groaning, acting like it’s the worst thing in the world.

Is one of those people who opens push/pull doors wrong.

Marco

After taking five minutes to park correctly he’s happy to go with the flow.

Likes to have a coffee and a people watch with you, chatty and social.

But he will drag you to shoe stores and you will be sat there for ages as he tries on every strappy sandal in the place, walking up and down and asking you what you think.

“I like this one but I don’t know if it makes me too tall yoi.” while you can’t for the life of you tell the difference between that pair and the last 40.

If you meet him at the mall he might be late, very much the shows up 20 minutes late with Starbucks.

Has a tendency to wander off in shops and you spend half your time looking for him.

Doesn’t give a warning when entering a shop if something shiny caught his bird brain.

Benn

He hates the mall.

Imagine a dad who has to take his teenage daughter clothes shopping and that’d basically be him with Shanks.

Benn is a very ‘I know what I am here for’ in and out kind of person but he doesn’t mind going to other places with you.

Ignores staff-only signs when he knows there is a smoking area on the other side of that door.

Is the person to remind you of the ‘insert thing here we have at home’ and is a shop sensible person, though he won't say anything if you do buy another T-shirt that looks exactly like the one you already have.

Pretends to be annoyed at carrying the shopping, but he offered and he likes to help you out.

If you complain about your feet hurting he’ll helpfully tell you he told you to wear your other shoes.

Sabo and Luffy

Banned

Both have their pictures up in the security office.

Sabo for giving the mall cops the finger, graffiti, and shoplifting.

Luffy peed in the fountain and kept stealing pick-n-mix.

558 notes · View notes

aphroditesmoon · 1 year

Note

hello! i have a request for you, but first i wanted to say i’ve enjoyed reading your wednesday/wenclair works :)

may i please have gn reader x gwen relationship details? like cute things you notice about her, how she shows affection, or anything else you want to include? thank you in advance!

gwen stacy x reader fluff hcs #2

a/n: omgggg tysm for reading my wenclair works🥹 I've found that writing is one of the only ways i could express myself as a queer person in a very hom0phobic country, im glad other people also find enjoyment in them!

warnings: none, fluff.

♤♤♤♤

- she was very awkward having you come yo her band practise at first, at least in the early stages of your relationship.

- she ended up playing badly because she couldn't focus with you around.

- it all gets better when she realizes you can't tell the difference anyways and still tell her you think she did great💀

- cuddling with her is never really a "whos the big spoon" question, she prefers to have her face buried in the crook of your neck, so if she's hugging you from behind, or from the front, it doesn't matter.

- when she's feeling protective of you in some days, she'll definitely have your face planted on her chest, trying to hide your body in her arms.

- bad cook gwen !! 🗣🗣 she can make a neat instant noodle though, take it or leave it.

- you took on to learning how to make simple recipe foods when your started dating her, banana pancakes, a decent omelette, and a good ol' fashion pasta. she really loves how much you love making her food, like it's your love language.

-she has a picture of you in her wallet, from your first date. hobie absolutely destroys her with embarrassment while announcing to everyone that gwendy has a special someone she's hiding

- you two lovw thrifting together, theres a pretty crowded and known city in her universe with lots of tourism spots and cool trinket shops, and yet the two of you will always find yourselves in a thrift shop there, choosing clothes for eachother.

- teaching you to play drums (you lasted a week and gave up, neither of you ever mention it again)

- her first tattoo is on the back of her neck, a lyric from a song in the playlist you made for her.

- you have a spider tattoo on your back too, something to remind you of her.

- late night burger dates at the same burger stall by the corner of her apartment, the dude already memories yalls orders too.

- she always loses her jacket or hoodie but never worrying bcs soon enough she'll see that you're wearing it.

- she likes to buy you random things she thinks you'd like, like a sun shaped keychain, a book you've mentioned once, a cat mug that costed her 70$

- she also likes it when you'll randomly intertwine your hands together, you'll be walking together or simply talking and sitting, and you'll have the urge to hold her hands, she'll immediately leane into your touch.

#gwen stacy #gwen stacy x reader #ghost spider x reader #ghost spider #atsv x reader #atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #hobie brown x reader

378 notes · View notes

livwritesstuff · 1 month

Note

I’ve got birthdays on the brain, so now I’m wondering how the guys handle the girls birthdays over the years and if they have any fun traditions as a family?

Oh yeah birthdays are definitely a Big Deal in the Harrington house. I feel like that comes from a combination of Eddie never having enough money to have a real birthday celebration growing up and Steve never having people who cared in the way he needed.

I think the way birthdays gets celebrated changes over the years and as the girls get older, but in general the conversation usually starts with we can do whatever you want (within reason, Steve usually interjects before things can get out of hand). When the girl are little, they do everything from hosting a formal princess tea party (Hazel’s sixth birthday — Eddie spent a month thrifting all the china cups and plates and saucers) to renting out a skate park after hours for laser tag (Moe’s 11th — Steve barely refrained from totally wiping the floor with a bunch of fifth-graders).

Once the girls hit middle school, they start wanting different things — usually big sleepovers with all their friends, but Hazel will sometimes ask for a shopping day instead, and for Robbie’s sixteenth birthday she bartered for her fourth lobe piercings (which Steve was happy to oblige given that it’s not exactly a big ask, and she’d done the second and third ones on herself which….wasn’t ideal).

No matter what the plan ends up being, they usually do the standard cake and ice cream and presents type of deal, and they definitely have some unspoken traditions that weren't necessarily planned, per se, but happen annually nonetheless.

Without fail, Eddie always gets all sad the night before a birthday because, "It's your last day ever being [insert age here]."

It first happened when Moe was about to turn two and Eddie realized that the year he’d spent telling everyone about his one-year-old baby (and it had been a seriously fun year too — the best one yet) was undeniably over, and he wasn’t ready to admit that Moe wasn’t really even a baby anymore. He spent the whole night before her second birthday snuggling her and bemoaning to Steve about how, “the merciless passage of time has claimed yet another victim”.

It turned into an annual thing — Eddie making a whole show out of telling the girls to stop growing up, which they totally eat up when they're little, and pretend to be exasperated by when they're teenagers (even though they still love it).

I also think Eddie would be the party mastermind, whereas Steve likes to focus on the little things.

Birthday morning breakfasts look like a whole plate with their name spelled out in pancake letters, and a little too much syrup and berries and a swirl of whipped cream with a candle sticking out of it, and Steve ties a bunch of balloons to their designated chair at the kitchen table, and he spends the whole rest of the day making sure that even the mundane moments are making them feel special and celebrated.

#are we birthday lovers or birthday haters?#or somewhere in the middle #I hate my own birthday but love everyone else's #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads

119 notes · View notes

carmyboobear · 2 months

Text

ALEXITHYMIA CH 5: detergent, thrifting, and cake

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader

Chapter Rating: T (11k)

ao3 link, ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4

Chapter Summary: It’s his roommate’s birthday this week, and Carmy doesn’t find out until it’s a couple days away. Once he finds they’re unluckily spending their birthday alone, he makes it his mission to make their lonely day better. It’s the least he can do. Little does he know how much more he has to discover about them and about himself.

Tags: reader having trauma, carmy having trauma, toxic families, domesticity

A/N: It’s time… it’s time. I said last chapter was the longest…just kidding. THIS ONE is the longest, and it was hardest to write so far. The duo gets to have a lot of fun this chapter, though! arguably the most so far! A lot of domestic goodness and good food and shopping! Until… :)

also HUGE shoutout to @justaconsequence on tumblr for being my beta reader for this chapter! she was so kind and so helpful. this behemoth of a fic is too much for me to proofread on my own. anyway, thanks for reading and enjoy! can't wait to hear what y'all think!

Typically, by this time on Monday morning, Carmy's usually three cigarettes deep into paperwork, urgently (and poorly) calculating the sales the restaurant needs to make this week to stay afloat. Because even though it's a Sunday closing activity, he never seems to find the occasion to get around to it, and by 10 pm, he doesn't have the capacity to be crunching numbers.

Not that 8 am is much better. At least he's not dissecting the debt this morning—he's studying detergent prices.

“Why is this one, like, almost 20 dollars?” Carmy stops reading the price tags and glances over at his roommate, who's squinting at products on upper shelves. The lights are always too bright in this place. “And for such a small bottle…”

“Pre-mixed organic sulfate-free 100% vegan bleach,” Carmy reads dully.

“So stupid.” They shake their head. “Does grocery shopping ever depress you?”

“Usually,” he replies dryly. “Inflation is pretty depressing.”

“Don’t even get me started. Capitalism in general depresses me.”

“Hm, yeah. That too.” He sighs through his nose and tries to refocus. He's having a hard time processing all the numbers and letters today. “You see any unscented detergent? Somethin’ mild?”

“Um…” They crane their neck up and down, and then they crouch on the ground. They pick up a white bottle. “How's this? It's like, 8 dollars. It's not name-brand, but…”

“You know I don't care.” He kneels with them, huddling in close. They smell faintly of a sweet, yet musky perfume. He reminds himself to focus on the detergent, not the way they smell (even if it's far more interesting). “Yeah, this looks good. Thank you.”

“For your vintage denim, right?” They stand up to put the detergent in their shopping cart, which is barely separated with his stuff vs. theirs. He doesn't understand why his face grows warm at their comment, but it does.

“Uh, yeah. It is.” If the blush shows on his face, they graciously don't comment. “Although I'll admit I don't get around to washing them as much as I should.”

“You're not supposed to wash jeans that often anyway, right?” They lean their elbows onto the rickety cart as they push it, and he ambles along next to them, matching the slow, relaxed pace of their walk.

“Yeah, but I really…” The implications are clear. They fail in suppressing a laugh, and it makes him smile. “And I’m supposed to hand wash them, so.”

“Oh, so what you're saying is that you never wash them,” they tease.

“That is not at all what I'm saying.” They make an unimpressed face. “I do laundry, it's just…”

“Not often,” they supply helpfully. He tries to come up with something, but he's got nothing. “It's okay, I understand.”

“I promise I wash my clothes,” he mumbles, wilting.

“I know.” There's that new smile he's grown to recognize more clearly. It's this mischievous one they get when they’re teasing him, and it's so cute he doesn't have any room in him to get even a little irritable. “I've seen you do laundry maybe once or twice.”

“Hey,” he says, warning, and they laugh and run ahead of him, the squeaky wheels of the cart giggling alongside them.

After the night he almost burned down their apartment, he had felt different. It was like a switch being flipped, light abruptly filling up a dark room, and he's been squinting, struggling to adjust. But as he walks with them today, grocery shopping lit by blinding white fluorescents, he finds that he can see them rather clearly.

The connection between the two of them is tangible, palpable. It's workable pasta dough that's been kneaded to uniformity. The dough is malleable, clean, and when he touches it, sticky, glutenous residue doesn't cover his palms. When he catches at them peeking over their shoulder to make sure he's still following them, he chases away the urge to pull them into his arms. He throws the desire into boiling water in hopes that enough pressure will change those feelings into something more palatable. He's not sure if it's working.

Something happened when he hugged them that Saturday night. He doesn't dare name what that “something” is, but it's rising from where it's sitting at the bottom of the pot, just about to hit the surface—

“Hey, I gotta get some stuff in this aisle.” Carmy snaps out of it and follows them as they veer the cart to the left. He raises his eyes to read the categories on the sign.

“You bakin’ somethin’?” They both move out of the way for an oncoming cart.

“Yeah, was thinking about it.” They halt to a stop in front of the boxed cake mix and step back to fully peruse the shelves. He stands next to them, and they glance at him out of the corner of their eye. “You’re not judging me for getting box mix, are you?”

“Not at all,” he answers honestly. “Food is always better when made from scratch, but box mix has its uses. Besides, I’m not a baker.”

“That’s true, but I’m sure you still make an insane cake.” Carmy’s aware he can’t make them unsee his flash of a smile, but he still shrugs. “Sure, stay humble.”

“I try. What’s the occasion?”

“Ah, nothing much. It’s just my birthday.”

“Oh, okay.”

…And he's about to move on, just as casually as it came, but then the processing finishes.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” They ask confusedly.

“Is it your birthday today?”

“No, um, it’s this Thursday.” He exhales in palpable relief.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He hates at how worked up he sounds.

“Um…” Their face is twinged with guilt. “...There was never a good time to bring it up?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be getting upset.” He sighs, shakes his head. “I just feel like I should’ve known, I guess.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not your fault. I never brought it up. Um…” Their hands are fiddling with the edges of their sleeves. “I just have complicated feelings about my birthday.”

“Ah, I see. I get that.” That, he can understand. “Is it all the gifts and stuff?”

“Kinda. It’s a part of it.” They lean down to grab a box of devil’s food cake, and that makes him remember that they’re in a grocery store. Not quite the best place for a personal conversation like this. They’re being vague, but he won’t press. Not right now.

“You shouldn’t be baking for yourself on your birthday,” Carmy mutters. They smile at that, but it’s different. It’s heavy with melancholy.

“It’s alright. I’m gonna be celebrating with my friends this weekend, just not on my actual birthday.” His conflicted expression persists. “It’s okay, really. It’s just a day. It’ll be enough of a present to not have to go into work.”

“Put that back,” he blurts out. “I’ll make you a cake.”

“Don’t you work?” Their eyebrows are arched in surprise. “You really don’t—”

“I know I don’t. But I want to. I do work, yeah, but I’ll, I’ll get someone to cover me.” He’s never said those words before in his life, and now that they’re out, he can’t take them back. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t want to take them back. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course,” they reply quickly.

“Then let me do this. Please.” He has no idea where this courage is coming from. “I want to. I know I'm always working, but I really…” Their eyes are wide with wonder, yet watchful. It shouldn't make him falter, but it does. His heart stutters and whatever bravado briefly gripped him fades away. “I’m…probably being too pushy right now. Tell me to fuck off?”

“I’m not gonna tell you to fuck off for wanting to bake me a cake,” they laugh, easing his worries like they always do. “C’mon, Carm.”

“So, uh, is that a yes, or…?”

“Just so we’re clear, I’m not trying to ask you to take off of work for my birthday,” they start carefully, “but I wouldn’t object to it. So, yeah. It’s a yes.”

“Okay.” He can’t help his giddy smile. There's someone saying you look stupid like this, but he’s with them, and it makes everything else silent. “Okay, good.”

“You’re…being super sweet about all this.” He doesn’t understand why—maybe it’s the way they say it—but hearing that makes his neck go hot.

“I mean…friends do stuff like this, don’t they?”

“Only the good ones.” They beam beautifully at him. He hasn’t done anything to warrant their affection, he thinks, but the feeling of their smile is so warm. He can’t resist soaking in it.

He's glad that lady luck blessed him just enough to stop their birthday from passing him by. He's been itching for an opportunity to repay them for all the bullshit they've had to take from him as of recent (although he knows if he brought it up, they would say it wasn't anything worth repaying). They deserve something good from him for once, not panic attacks and nightmares.

He just wishes he could figure out why they were going to spend their birthday alone. He knows them a lot better now, but there's still so much left shrouded. He wants to know them inside and out—he wants to learn what makes them tick, what keeps them up at night, what makes them happy. He wants to know all of it in its entirety, to fill in the gaps in the puzzle he doesn't have the pieces for.

He has some of the pieces. He understands that their relationship with their family to his—distant, strained, and difficult. Unfortunately, that’s about it. He doesn’t know any of the specifics. It’s not like he’s talked to them about his family outside of the off-handed bitter remarks, just as they have, but he finds that this fact leaves him dissatisfied.

He just hopes that they'll let him in. He's not sure if they will, but…he's gonna try. He has to. He's sick of not trying.

. . . . .

“You want to take off?” Richie’s staring at Carmy like he’s grown a second head. They're taking a smoke break in the back. “I don’t know what sort of doppelganger bullshit this is, but if you’re trying to pretend to be Carmen, you’re doing a shit job.”

“Very funny, jackass,” Carmy mutters. “I’m being serious. This Thursday.”

“All day?” Carmy grimaces, but he nods. Richie shakes his head. “You’re being weird. Really fuckin’ weird.”

“I know I shouldn’t. It’s a bad idea, but—”

“Cousin, no, that’s not at all what’s goin’ on here,” Richie interrupts, and Carmy’s at a loss for words. “This is the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“What?” Carmy squints at him. “Are you being serious?”

“‘Course I’m serious. I’m always serious.” Carmy decides not to comment on that. “Do you know how many times I’ve tried to get you off this ship for just one fucking second?”

“As the owner of this place, you’ve tried way too many times,” he replies dryly.

“Uh, as the original co-owner of this place, you don’t listen to me enough.” Again, Carmy decides not to elaborate on that one. It’s not worth it. “Take the day off. I was running it fine before, and I’ll keep running it.”

“No, no, we’re not saying that, it was not fine,” Carmy starts, but Richie’s already flipping him off.

“Whatever, I already know, new fucking system and all that. Don’t get anxiety or whatever over it, that’s why you got Syd hustling shit your way, right?”

“Uh.” Carmy didn’t realize that Richie had even been paying attention to the new hierarchy in the restaurant, let alone respecting it in any capacity. “Yeah, she is.”

“Then it’s fine.” Richie blows smoke in his face, and Carmy swats it away with a glare. “It was fine when you came in an hour late today, wasn’t it?”

“You guys knew I wasn’t gonna come in until later,” Carmy argues, defensive (although he’s not sure if there’s actually anything to argue about).

“Exactly.” Richie sighs all of a sudden, a long one that sounds like it’s bone deep. “Carm. Let me be straight with you. You need to do this. Okay? No backing out of this one.”

“Why’re you sayin’ this? What are you sayin’?”

“It’s ‘cause of your roommate, right? This Thursday?”

“...Yeah.” Carmy pales. “How did you—?”

“Fuckin’ knew it,” Richie says, grinning. “It was obvious.”

“No way. I didn’t say shit.”

“You didn’t need to.” Richie flicks the ash off his cigarette. “They’re changin’ you, man. We can all see it.”

“...” Carmy can’t deny that. He doesn't have time to ponder on that right now. “Is it really okay?”

“Yeah, you could stand to have an attitude adjustment.”

“I wasn’t talking about that, asshole. I was talking about Thursday.”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake, it’s completely fine.” Richie claps a hand on his shoulder, solid in its grip. It makes Carmy’s eyes snap to him, mostly in confusion. “So what’s the occasion? Must be important.”

“It’s their birthday. I mean, I could just go home early that day, but—”

“Yo, if you’re gonna take off, don’t halfass it—”

“That’s not what I was gonna say. When I’m here, I can’t seem to find my way out. This place…it just has a way of trapping you in.” He doesn’t expect Richie to nod, but he does. “I know if I don’t take the whole day off, I’ll never get out of here in time. Not until it’s too late.”

For some reason, that makes Richie laugh.

“Yeah. That's it.” Richie shakes his head as smoke trails out of his mouth. “That’s just it, man. You have to make time for the things that’re important. Even the recitals where you have to listen to five year olds play twinkle twinkle little star 20 times. You can’t miss shit like this. Because once you miss it, it’s gone.”

“Rich.” Carmy wants to say something to make that haunted expression leave Richie's face, but he doesn't come up with anything in time.

“Don’t give me that look.” Richie’s hand falls from his shoulder. “I’m just tryin’ to stop you from fucking shit up. They actually seem like a good person.”

“Y’think so?”

“I do. You?”

“Yeah.” Carmy doesn’t bother hiding his smile, even though he can already sense Richie’s teasing coming from a mile away. “They’re a really good friend.”

“Friend. Sure.” Richie snorts.

“Don’t push it,” and for some reason he adds, “they were gonna spend it alone.”

“Huh. Sociable guy like them spending it alone?”

“I know. I didn't ask. Maybe I should've.”

“Maybe. I dunno, cousin. Everyone's got their secrets. Especially the ones that try to act like they don't have any.”

“You're strangely full of wisdom today.”

“Fuck right off,” Richie responds in regular Richie fashion.

“I think they're like me. Like us.” Carmy's not sure why he's saying this on a Monday afternoon at work out of all times, but the truth bursts out of him beyond his will. Richie's expression shifts into something more solemn, something recognizable. “Y'know what I mean.”

“...Yeah.” Richie claps his hand on Carmy's back again. “Shitty parents club.”

As Carmy stands there in the back, feet sore and tobacco in the air, he sees his childhood in flashes. He's five years old again and is following Mike around with scuffed sneakers and untamed hair, although he supposes that unruliness never truly changed with time. There's warm sunlight filtering through green summer leaves. He hears his mother behind him, somewhere, but maybe he doesn't.

He thinks of home, of his bedroom, and it is cold. He has homework he’s failed to complete again. It's sitting on his desk, on top of all of the other shit he can't finish. There's screaming, and he's not listening.

He blinks. He’s 30, and he hasn’t talked to his mom since Michael died.

“Shitty parents club,” Carmy repeats hollowly.

. . . . .

When Thursday morning arrives, Carmy ends up greeting his roommate with flour in his hair and eggs sizzling on the pan.

“Um,” they say, just as Carmy goes “G'morning.” They both freeze, brief awkwardness circling between them before it dissipates with their breathless laugh.

“Good morning. I didn't think you'd actually take off,” they admit.

“I said I would,” he replies quietly, but it's not accusatory. How many times had he said he'd be home for dinner just for him to arrive when they're already asleep? He tries not to make empty promises anymore. Nonetheless, he understands their surprise. “Um, I'm almost done with breakfast. I didn't get to the coffee yet.”

“Am I supposed to be offended?” They laugh. “That's the least I can do, with you doing all of this.” They sluggishly shuffle behind him to reach down into some kitchen cabinets. “It's a special day, so I'll even make us pour overs.”

“That's true. It is special.” He peeks over his shoulder, pausing from basting the eggs in brown butter to see them setting up on the kitchen island. They gently place the hourglass-shaped glass onto the counter with a light clink. He silently switches the button on for the electric gooseneck kettle to his right. “Am I allowed to wish you a happy birthday, or should I not?”

“Hm, I don't mind. Just don't overdo it, which I doubt you will.” They pull out a bag of coarse ground coffee and a filter. As soon as they open the bag, he can smell the sweet scent of the light roast floating towards him.

“Okay. Then, happy birthday,” he says as casually as he can.

“Thanks, Carmy.” He studies their expression, searching for annoyance in their content expression, but he doesn't find any. “That's not even really what I meant by today being special, though.”

“How else did you mean it?” The eggs are done. He reaches over the hot pan to cut the heat.

“Well, y'know. I dunno if we’ve ever had a full day off together.” They're carefully scooping grounds into the filter fitted on top of the glass, creating a small hill. “I think I managed to catch you coming home early on my off days sometimes, but never a full day.”

“Huh.” Carmy has to take a minute to think about that one. “Yeah, I don't know either. I think you're right.”

“Then, like I said. It's special.” They seal up the bag of coffee grounds, and then they frown. “Shit. I forgot to turn on the kettle. Can you—”

“Already did it,” he reports, pleased, and his sense of accomplishment only doubles at their sigh of relief.

“Thank god.” There's the familiar clicking sound of the kettle reaching the perfect temperature. “Just in time, too. Can you hand it to me?”

“Yes, chef,” he says, because it always makes them laugh. Today is no exception. He slides the metallic kettle over to them.

“So what delights did you whip up over there?” They ask. They begin pouring the almost boiling water over their coffee grounds in a slow circle, gradually inching towards the middle. “It smells amazing. I want the full break-down.”

“The full break-down, got it.” On two circular plates, he's carefully placing a fried egg, thick cut bacon, and a slice of toast with jam and butter. “Uh…it's nothin’ special, just stuff we had in the fridge. We've got a, uh, brown-butter fried egg with a little paprika, sage, pepper, salt…”

“Oh, just an egg made with liquid gold, no big deal,” they imitate.

“Cut it out,” he snips back, but he's smiling and they know it. “There's honestly not much to it. This thick-cut bacon was in the back, so I cooked the rest of it. And the toast is just brioche with salted honey butter and blueberry jam.”

“Carmy. C'mon. That's nothing special to you?”

“I mean.” It's not quite nothing, he thinks. “I can make nicer breakfasts, is all.”

“That's what you said when you made me garlic bread, and that fucking blew my mind.” They set the kettle down with a thunk. The glass is full of dark coffee. Prepped next to them is their favorite glass mug alongside Carmy's. He's not sure how they knew that it was his favorite, but he doesn't question it.

“I'm just letting you know that you should wait to be really impressed.”

“Too fucking late, man.” He's turned around and placed the two breakfast platters on the kitchen island, and they gawk openly at it. “Holy fuck.”

“It's ready,” he says, surprisingly meek. He can't comprehend why anxiety's hitting him now of all times. He's served acclaimed food critics, top-security government officials, and celebrities more times than he can count. Before that audience, he never faltered, but in front of his roommate in their crumpled pajamas, his heart stutters.

“Oh, wow…” They regard the food with undeserved softness. Like a punctured balloon, his anxiety immediately begins deflating. They're staring at the food like it's a painting in a museum. “You seriously didn't have to do all of this.”

“I know. I just wanted to.” He feels heat on the back of his neck. “Is…is that okay?”

“It's more than okay.” Suddenly, he notices their eyes are puffy, like they were crying. “Goddamnit, get over here.”

He only registers what's about to happen for one second before they're hugging him. Their palms are on his back, and the top of their head tucks under his chin perfectly. He makes a small, surprised noise.

“I, I'm glad you like it.” He links his arms around them, allows himself to rest his chin on their head. With their face turned to the side, their ear's pressed up against his chest, and he's instantly struck with the paranoia that they're gonna hear his rapid heartbeat.

“I haven't even taken a bite yet, and I love it.” They lean back then, arms still wrapped around him and head craned upwards to look at him. It's far too intimate for what they are, and Carmy hates how his heart beats even harder. “Thank you for doing all this. Seriously. I…”

“The breakfast's just a side thing, I'm, um, still baking you a cake.”

“What? You're doing this and a cake?”

“Um,” Carmy repeats intelligently.

“Carmy. Carmy, Carmy, Carmy.” Their words ooze affection, but surely he's just imagining it. Their hands are crawling up his back. “God, I could just ki—”

“There's the timer,” Carmy blurts out, because his phone's ringing and so are his ears. At the sound, they let him go, and he grabs two towels to retrieve the two circular cake pans from the oven. A toothpick poked through the middle comes out clean, so he sets them on a wire rack to cool.

He needs to focus on the cakes. That's the most important thing.

“Oh my god.” They lean in close to the cake and take a deep breath. “Is this—”

“Devil's food cake, yeah.” The heat searing his face is surely from opening the oven.

“You—how did you—” Their smile is luminous with joy. “You really pay attention to every little thing, don't you?”

“Sometimes. When it counts.” He fidgets awkwardly, nails picking at the sides of his fingers. “Wanna eat by the window, or…?”

“Fuck yeah I do. Can you bring the plates over? I'll have the coffee over in just a second.”

Carmy sets up at their little table first, placing the plates just right across from one another. The morning sun casts a cozy glow through their speckled window, streaking planes of light across the floor. He patiently waits and watches them pace from the fridge to the counter, splashing cream into their mugs. Through the transparent glass, he watches the white fizzle into the dark coffee, blending into a warm brown.

“Just a tiny spoon of sugar for you, right?” They peek over their shoulder, catching his stare, and he nods. He's also not quite sure how they know that, either. They've had coffee in the morning maybe a handful of times before.

He supposes they also pay attention sometimes, when it counts.

“Alright, here we go.” They bring a mug in each hand and set them delicately down on the table. He notes that his coffee is the perfect color. “Oh, thanks for waiting. You didn't have to.”

“I, I guess so, yeah. It's just, uh, you always wait for me, so…”

“That's—that's true.” An odd tension sets in their face, but they laugh it off, and it disappears. “I guess I’m not used to it anymore.”

A part of him wants to ask further by what they meant by that, but they're already taking pictures of his food so dutifully. He doesn't want to ruin it, so he eats.

It's nice to have a solid breakfast for once. He had taken their advice from the other night and had been drinking milk with protein powder. It was nice not to feel like he was teetering the edge by lunch time, but truthfully, it was a bit unsavory. This breakfast platter is much more palatable. It also helps that his stomach pains aren't active today.

Time rolls by slowly this quiet morning, and Carmy recognizes the oddity of it immediately. It's clear to see when by this time, he's usually already done at least ten laps through the restaurant. An irritating signal in his brain is telling him that he needs to get up and do something, not sit around and eat, but for once, he doesn't want to listen.

A memory from roughly two weeks ago (or was it one week?) unearths all of sudden. He was up early, drinking shitty coffee and sinking into dissociation. Mornings were lonely, as he was usually the only one up, but not that day. His roommate came stumbling into the kitchen, awake from a restless night. They chatted before he had to head out, and he remembers wishing he had more time in the morning to spend with them.

He imagined a morning just like this one, with pajamas, food, and messy hair. He daydreamed about having all the time in the world, and he thought about getting to spend it all with them. Now he’s sitting in that moment he imagined, except that it’s real. They're across from him in their wrinkled pajamas and bedhead, contentedly mowing through their food. There's a smear of jam on the corner of their mouth. He takes a sip of his coffee, and it's perfect, just as they made it for him.

This amount of good should scare him, needs to scare him, but he just can't bring himself to care anymore. He wants more than nightmares, cigarettes, and floating just above the budget. He wants this.

He tastes his coffee and reminds himself that he’s still here. The moment hasn’t passed him by.

“Is it good?” He asks quietly. It’s a rhetorical question, it always is, but he can’t help himself. He wants to hear it from them.

“So. Fucking. Good.” They have to finish chewing before they answer. “You always knock it out of the park. If this is the prelude, I don’t know if I can handle what’s next,” they say, gesturing towards the cooling cake.

“It won’t be ready for a while yet. You have time to prepare yourself.” That makes them smile. All according to plan. “Got anything in mind for today?”

“Nothing glamorous. I was just gonna go out for a little. Go thrifting, maybe watch a movie later. Smoke a joint.” They shrug. “Just my usual sort of thing.”

“Mm.” He dusts off crumbs from the toast off his fingers on his pants. “Sounds like a good time. You still wanna go?”

“I do, yeah.” They stare at him for a moment, as if processing his words. Or just him. “Do you…wanna tag along, or…?”

Whenever they ask him if he wants to spend time together (whether it’s grocery shopping, smoking, or watching a show), they usually offer it with an air of nonchalance. Carmy’s assumed it’s been out of politeness, restraining their expression as to not put any pressure onto him. That’s the person he’s used to, not this uneasy anxiety, someone afraid to ask him to spend time with them.

It reminds him of himself in every way.

“I’d love to tag along,” he answers easily, just as they’ve always done for him. “I’ve got the whole day off, after all.”

“Right. ‘Course.” He watches their little smile double in size. “I promise to not make you watch me try on clothes for too long.”

“I wouldn’t mind. I like thrifting, y’know.” And you, he thinks to himself.

“You do? Oh, of course—” They make a contemplative noise to themself. “Vintage denim. I always wondered how you managed to have so many pairs.”

“Once you know where to look, they’re pretty easy to find. I can help you find some, if you want.”

“I’d love that. I realized the other day that I don’t have any dark wash jeans, so—actually, the truth is that I do have a pair, but they’re so fucked up and old that I never wear them anymore. Anyway, I need new jeans. Think you could find some dark wash blue jeans for me?”

“If you’re willing to hit up more than one store, then definitely,” he replies, just a smidge cocky.

“I’m willing to hit up even two more stores.” He pretends to gasp, to which they nod confidently. “Yeah. That’s right. Maybe even three.”

“We won’t need three,” Carmy promises. “I’m better than that. Probably won’t even need two, but…” He shrugs. “We’ll see what they’ve got.”

“Okay, Mr. Confident over here,” they tease. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

They head out after they both clean the kitchen and freshen up. Carmy gets the flour out of his hair and rewets his hair to revive some of his curls. He silently thanks his past self for showering the night before. With the passage of the morning cold and the rising sun, the afternoon weather’s become brisk and pleasant. However, the weather’s barely a factor in how he’s dressing.

Is this too much? Is this not enough? He’s switching shirts and pants in the mirror like he’s about to go on a date. He knows he’s not, swears to himself that he’s not, but he’s put product in his hair and cologne on his wrists and temples. It’s not a date, but he can’t fucking decide what to wear.

He sucks it up and settles on a gray sweater, light wash blue jeans, and white sneakers. From under his collar and at the bottom of his sweater peeks out a brown button up. It’s probably too much, but this is his sixth outfit change. He’s fed up with it and himself.

After adjusting the gold chain that got hidden under his collar, he steps out.

He finds them already waiting by the door in this thick knit cardigan and fitted plaid pants that makes his heart stutter. When they hear him approaching, their head snaps up from their phone, and their skin sparkles with touches of makeup.

“You look really nice.” He has no idea how he let that slip, but he’s more shocked that he didn’t stutter once.

“Ah, th—thank you,” they stammer, fingers fidgeting with the edge of their sleeve. He’s not sure if it's their makeup or their skin that’s doing the blushing. It’s nice to see them being the one tripping over their words for once. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”

“Oh. Um.” Handsome? It echoes in his head. He instantly feels self conscious. So much for being the more suave one for once. “Thanks, uh…I just didn’t wanna wear my work clothes,” he lies in an attempt to ease his embarrassment.

“I gotcha.” He’s glad they don’t challenge him on it. “Shall we head out?”

“Yeah. Where we headed first?”

They take the metro to their personal favorite shop a little up north. The metro’s surprisingly busy for a Thursday afternoon, but the crowd forces the two of them to be huddled next to each other. They’re both standing close to a pole by the window, each with one hand wrapped around the metal.

As passengers come and go, they step closer to him to move out of the way. Eventually it just gets to a point where they’re standing nearly pressed up against his chest. He tries not to dwell on how that makes him feel, but he can smell the fragrance they put on, and it’s very distracting.

Luckily, the ride is short. Any longer on the train, he might’ve put an arm around their shoulder, god forbid.

“If we can’t find what I’m looking for here, maybe you can show me one of your favorite spots to go thrifting,” they say as they enter the thrift store. The interior is decorated, clean, and lovely, and unlike the metro, it’s not packed to the brim with people. It smells faintly of incense, and there’s local art framed all over the walls for sale. It oozes warmth and excitement, much like them.

“There’s a ton of shit here, so maybe we won’t need to after all.” He finds himself intaking everything at once, eyes flickering from sign to sign. “I’ve never been here before. This is really cool.”

“It’s my favorite place to find new clothes.” They trail down the racks, finger flitting between clothes. “I hope you can find something you like here, too.”

“I’m sure I will.” He’s already walking to their denim section and immediately spots some contenders. “I think I already have.”

He’s not sure if they mean to spend hours in there, but he certainly does. There’s more than just clothes to look at, although that’s what takes up most of his time. There’s dishes, furniture, cds, vinyls, books, even electronics. He goes back and forth with them, clothing articles piling up in his arms as they sit on battered couches together and peruse scratched cds. Everywhere he looks, there’s just more, more, and more.

“Okay, I’ve gotta cut myself off,” they say as they leave the furniture section. They’ve sat on nearly every chair in that place. “I already have so many clothes to try on, and that’s not even including the jeans you’ve picked out for me.”

“If it helps, some of these are mine.” Carmy flips through the layers of hanging jeans that have built up on his forearm. “If you can believe it, I even found some stuff that isn’t denim.”

“I’m not sure if I can, but seeing is believing.” They thumb through some long-sleeves he’s carrying that are seeping out from under the jeans. “I’m just glad you were able to find some stuff for yourself, too. Not that I was that worried.”

He hands them the jeans he’s found for them, all dark wash and in their size. To his surprise, they also hand him an article of clothing for him to try on.

“I thought you’d look good in this. You’ll have to show me when you try it on,” they say, and it’s innocent, completely meaningless, but as soon as Carmy agrees and rushes to hide in the changing room, he views in the mirror and sees his flushed face.

Doesn’t mean anything, he repeats to himself, over and over and over. Stop getting in over your head.

He tries on his items of choice first. The first is a dark green henley that looked better on the rack than it did him, so he puts it in the reject pile. The second is a dark blue long sleeve that fits just right. It’s cheap, too, so it’s an automatic purchase. He presumes the way to word it is that it hugs him in all the right places, but he’s not sure. The rest are jeans, of which only one he decides to buy. A bit pricey, but for the brand and year, it’s worth it (although he basically always uses this reasoning with himself).

Now, for the piece of clothing they picked out for him. It’s a dark brown t-shirt that seems like it’s just the right length. It’s a muted, yet warm brown, a bit rosey in hue. He doesn’t realize it’s a v-neck until he gets it over his head and down his shoulders.

“I’ve never worn a v-neck before,” he calls out to the room next to him.

“Oh, are you trying it on? Do you like it?” Their slightly muffled voice calls back to him.

“Um…I’m not sure,” he admits with a shaky laugh. The collar is lower than he’s used to. It dips below his collarbones, and between them dangles his chain. “Should I show you?”

“Yes! Hold on, lemme get some pants on. …Okay, I’m stepping out!”

He hears their door open alongside his. When they see him, their expression snaps into what he believes is surprise and delight. He’s sure he looks somewhat the same.

They’re wearing one of the vintage jeans he picked out for them—dark blue Levi’s. Although they’re rolled up a couple times at the bottom, it seems to fit them just right. As he stares, he’s reminded of his many pairs of Levi’s, and it’s more or less like seeing them in his clothes, which is. Which is. Uh. Yeah.

“I knew that would suit you,” they say with a grin, to which he realizes he can’t hide his blush.

“It’s not weird?”

“Not at all. It looks good.” They tilt their head to the side as they openly look him over, hip cocked. Something in their gaze is making him hot. “No pressure to buy it, of course.”

“It’s different from what I’m used to, but…” He looks down, smooths the fabric with his palm. “It’s kinda nice, something like this. Um, and what do you think about the jeans?” He needs to direct the attention off him quickly.

“Oh, I love them. The others ended up fitting not quite right on me, but that’s how it goes.” They move from side to side, almost twirling. It’s cute. “I love these, though. Just a little long, but I’m used to it.”

“That’s how it always is. I can hem them for you, if you want. I usually hem mine.”

“And he sews,” they say, seemingly to themself, but they’re looking right at him. Embarrassing. “If you don’t mind, that’d be amazing. Either way, I’m probably getting them.”

“Good. You should. They fit well.”

“Yeah?” They glance back into their fitting room, likely examining themself in the mirror, and then back at him. “Okay, then. Definitely getting them.” With that and a cheeky grin, they go back into their dressing room to try on the rest of their clothes. Carmy follows suit, grateful to hide his embarrassed face.

Carmy heads to check out with the dark blue long sleeve, a pair of jeans, and the brown v-neck. They’ve decided on the pair of jeans they showed him earlier and a little purple tank-top he wishes he got to see on them.

“Will that be all for you today?” The cashier asks him as he checks out first. Even the cashiers here are pretty nice, he finds.

“Oh, their stuff, too.” He nods to them, who’s standing right next to him.

“Carmy.” They glare at him.

“What?” He feels himself smiling.

“You can’t do this to me.”

“C’mon.” He nudges them gently with his elbow. “It’s my present to you.”

“Oh, so the present wasn’t the breakfast? Or the cake? Or helping me pick these out?”

“Why can’t it be all of them?” He decides to stop this in its tracks and takes the clothes out of their hands, sliding it onto the counter. “Just these two, and that’ll be it.”

“Just you wait until your birthday hits,” they mutter darkly, shaking their head. “Just you wait.”

“I haven’t told you my birthday.” He pauses. “Right?”

“I’ll ask Richie.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You’re giving me no choice.”

“You could also just, I don't know, not ask—”

“I wouldn't have to if you didn't force my hand—”

“You guys are cute together,” the cashier comments with a smile, surely a harmless, meaningless thing, but it shuts the both of them up. Carmy can already feel the impact of it on his psyche, and he decides to tuck away the surging emotions to unpack later. At least, he'll try.

“You really didn't have to get those for me,” they tell him when they're exiting the store. “But I guess I should just be saying thank you. So…thank you.”

“Sure. I mean, it would've been better if it was wrapped and stuff, but…” He shrugs. “Had to get you a real present, not just food.”

“Not just food, my ass.” That makes him laugh. “It'll be nice to have something to remind me of this day, though. That's one of the nice parts of getting gifts. Everytime I wear these clothes, I'll think of you.”

“Good. Yeah, that's…good,” he finishes lamely. He nods like their words haven't flustered him, but he's sure they can tell. They laugh, and he can tell it's because of his reaction.

“I'm sorry that the cashier said that,” they say out of nowhere.

“Why're you apologizing? It's not your fault.” Any embarrassment he was feeling before is immediately replaced with a new, more potent sort of embarrassment. He was hoping they wouldn't mention it.

“I guess that's true. I don't know, I just…” They trail off. “Just hope it didn't upset you.”

“Not at all,” he lies, and he prays they believe it.

. . . . .

The metro is less crowded on the way home. They sit comfortably next to each other and watch the city pass them by. A part of Carmy mourns the closeness they had on the way there, but the other part tells him to get it together and keep his distance.

“I'mma take a nap,” they say with a yawn. Their cardigan and bag have been tossed onto the couch. The new clothes have been thrown into the laundry machine, and there's the muffled sound of running water. “Maybe we could smoke and watch a movie later, though.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” He peers into the fridge to check on the cake rounds. Just as he left them. “Have a good nap.”

“Thanks, Carm,” they reply sleepily. “Wouldn't be a good day if I didn't get to have a nice nap, after all.” With that, they shuffle into their room and shut the door behind them.

Carmy spends the next two hours flying around the apartment, baking, cooking, cleaning. The sun slowly sets as he goes. He keeps his body and hands moving in hopes that his head doesn't have a chance to catch up, but it manages to keep the pace. It always does.

The crumb coat's fucked up on the left, his first train of thought says. He inspects the surface, eyes following the circumference of the cake. There's a little loose crumb. With the edge of his spatula, he tucks the crumb away.

The faint smell of chocolate wafts up from the cold cake rounds. He's hunched over the kitchen island, hands reaching between dark chocolate frosting and cake. The afternoon sun casts harsh lights onto the cake, and it glistens. He genuinely can't remember the last time he's made a layered cake. He's never been much of a baker, anyhow.

You're going to disappoint them, his second train of thought interrupts, running parallel to the other one at full speed. Who do you think you are? You don't make cakes.

He leans back, inspects his work. The crumb coats are perfect.

Fuck off, he thinks back, triumphant. Look at that shit. He runs his finger along the spatula, picking up congealed crumbs and frosting. He licks it off, and it's delicious. And it tastes good, asshole. So shut the fuck up.

You're being a nuisance, the thoughts continue. Carmy's pops the crumb coats in the freezer for a quick set. They don't actually like any of this. They're just being nice to make you feel better.

They seemed happy to me, he thinks, but he's faltering. He's washing the dishes, and the sensation of the warm water feels distant. They loved the food I made.

Couldn't you tell they were lying? He doesn't understand why these thoughts are rampaging through his head now of all times. It's not unfamiliar, but it's inconvenient. Keep this up, and you'll actually be surprised when they drop you.

Without warning, a memory hits him . As his hands drip with soap, he's reminded of playing with Michael and Sugar in the summer when he was five. Or six, or seven, he's never quite sure. They were outdoors at a local park, and the heat made the metal of the playground searing hot to the touch.

He was blowing bubbles, and the sticky mixture from the bottle was getting all over his hands. In his memory, Carmy watches the way the iridescent bubbles floated away and left little circles on the surface of the plastic slide. He can't remember why he wasn't playing with the others. He can remember the sound of their laughing voices in the distance, gleeful and delighted without him. He thinks he tried to join in, but it didn't work. It often just didn't work, and it was all his fault.

The memory ends, and Carmy's finished washing the dishes.

This is working, he thinks to himself. His hands are dried out from the hot water and soap. I swear to you, it's working. So just stop. Okay?

There's no response. Good enough.

He hears the door opening as soon as he's putting the finishing touches on the cake. With a damp paper towel, he carefully swipes away stray drops of frosting that fell onto the cake stand. He thinks it's best described as if a tiramisu was turned into a devil's food cake. It's not the best cake he's ever made, but it's definitely up there in terms of looks. All the components of the cake tasted good separately, so he hopes it makes sense in his mouth as much as it did in his head.

“Have a nice nap?” He asks before he turns his head. They're standing in the hallway, bed hair hastily tied back.

“Sorta. It was okay.” Their eyes are glued onto the cake as they walk up to the island. “Is this…?”

“This is for you, yeah,” he finishes for them. They take a seat on one of the chairs at the island. “It's a, uh, devil's food cake with vanilla mascarpone cream on the inside. The outside's this coffee buttercream…” He trails off, not knowing what else to say. He could mention the dutch processed cocoa powder, the expensive vanilla bean pods, or the endless sifting, but it feels too gratuitous.

“Wow…” They're still staring, as if it's not quite real to them. “I can't believe this is for me. It almost looks too pretty to eat, but you know I can't wait to tear into this.”

“We could, uh, have it now, if you, if you want,” he says hesitantly.

“I don't know if I could wait.” Their smile grows wider. “You even put candles on it?”

“We don't have to light them or anything if you don't want to,” he adds quickly.

“The candles are the fun part. I don't mind that. The song is…okay I guess, but…” They give him an expectant, excited look. “Were you gonna sing for me?”

“...Only if you wanted to,” he mumbles, suddenly stricken with embarrassment.

“Would that be okay? If I wanted that?”

“I wouldn't mind.” Not if it's you.

“Okay. Then, yeah.” They pull out a lighter from their pocket. “I’d really like that.”

Carmy cuts the overhead lights before taking out his own lighter to help them light the rest of the candles. One by one, the dark room gradually illuminates until it's filled with a warm, orange glow. The flickering flames cast shifting shadows onto their smiling face and reflect into their glossy eyes.

“Ready?” He asks quietly.

“I'm ready,” they whisper.

Carmy doesn't really need to clear his throat, but he does so anyway. He can't recall the last time he sang happy birthday to anyone, let alone by himself. This is the first time he's ever sung in front of an audience, too.

I can do this, he thinks to himself. I can do this.

His voice is awkward and scratchy. He never uses it like this, has never sang for anyone in his life. His ears burn, and he hates the sound of his voice, but he reminds himself to focus on their delighted little smile and warm gaze. The room is far too quiet for his voice, making the words painfully clear.

“Happy birthday to you,” he finishes singing, voice trailing off awkwardly. He's more than ready to finish singing now. “Uh, make a wish…?”

“Right.” The two of them sit in the flickering candle light for a moment longer, the silence thick. Carmy watches their face, their eyes boring into the candles with an expression he can only describe as longing. Then, they blow out the candles with a decisive blow, and the room goes dark.

He moves to switch on the lights. When he turns back to look at them, tears are streaming down their face.

“Hey,” he says softly. He props his elbows on the counter, standing across from them and tilting his head to the side. They're not meeting his gaze, glazed eyes boring into the dripping candles. “What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry,” they whisper with a sniffle, and it sounds like a reflex. Something about them suddenly seems so much smaller. “I shouldn't be crying.”

“It's okay. I don't mind.” That makes them smile, even if it's shaky. “Was the singing too much?”

“No, it wasn't your singing,” they say with a laugh. “Your singing was lovely. It's just—I'm so happy. You made today so special.”

“Yeah?” He fights the urge to reach over and wipe their tears. “I'm glad. I wanted to make it good. I…” He hesitates. “...I didn't like the idea of you spending it alone.”

“I didn't either. And I thought I was going to have to be alone…but then you—then you took off work, and you made me breakfast, you went shopping with me—even got me clothes—and now this—” Another rush of tears gushes from their eyes, and they hastily wipe at it with their shirt.

“You've done way more for me. This is the least I could do.” Before he can stop himself, his hand is brushing hair out of their eyes. They freeze for a split second, eyes finally flickering up towards him. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It's okay,” they whisper back. “Um…” They let out a shaky sigh, the sort of trembling sound that happens after crying too much. “I feel like I should explain.”

“You don't have to if you don't want to,” he assures them quickly, “but I…I'd like to know. If that's okay.”

“I want you to know. I, I do.” They open their mouth to keep talking, but shaky breaths continue to stifle them. It's hard to watch.

“Breathe,” he reminds them, quietly. He visibly takes in a deep breath, silently encouraging them to breathe with him. They follow suit, closing their eyes and taking a slow breath. Tears slip silently from their eyes. Gradually, their breathing becomes less of a staccato, evening out into something much more manageable.

“Thank you,” they murmur. He nods. They already sound a lot calmer. “I'm not sure where to start. I…I suppose I'll start with today.” Another deep breath. “I didn’t get a call from my parents today.”

“Ah…” The first missing piece.

“I knew they weren’t going to. But a part of me still hoped…” They stop and shake their head. “It's the first year that it's been like this.”

“What happened?”

“Uh…I went no contact with my family about a year ago.” Another pained, hollow laugh. The second piece. “I didn't even really want to—it was a complicated, shitty situation. My parents were being their usual shitty selves, and I just wanted them to apologize. It was over such a small thing, and, and I just…I don't know. I thought maybe I could fix things.” He's never seen them with such a heavy expression, etched with such weariness. “I just wanted them to apologize to me, Carm. That's all I wanted. And then they cut me off cold.”

Their voice is trembling again, and the tears are falling faster. The collar of their shirt is dark with moisture. Carmy hates that he doesn't know what to say. He hates just staring at them, silent as he tries to find the words.

Suddenly, he thinks of Michael.

“Michael never let me work in the restaurant,” he tells them. “That's why I went to culinary school. A big part of it, anyway. He just cut me off, didn't let me in no matter what I did, and it was…” He makes a vague hand gesture. “I felt insane. I was so fucking angry. I couldn't understand him. And I'm not saying that's anything like what you've been through, but…” He looks into their watchful eyes. “I'm sorry. I think I'm trying to say that I, that I understand. A little.”

“I…I appreciate that.” They give him a small, wobbly smile. He adores their smile, but seeing it through their tears twists something painfully in his chest. “He would've been lucky to have you. You're an excellent chef.”

“I am now, anyway.” He sighs. “Your family's missing out on you, too. You're…” Say it. Just say it. “You're a really wonderful person. I can't imagine…”

I can't imagine anyone looking at you and not loving what they see, he thinks suddenly, and he instantly realizes he can't say it. He can barely even comprehend that he just thought it.

He can't process this right now. This isn't the time.

“I keep trying to wrap my head around it all, wondering what I did wrong, what I could've done better… Sometimes, the conclusion I arrive at is that I must have done something to deserve this. That I just, I don't know, that maybe I'm just this permanent fuck-up, and…” They run a tired hand over their wet face, through their hair. “My parents fucked me up real good, man.”

There's something familiar about their words, and Carmy realizes it's because it sounds like him. He would've never guessed that under their easy-going smiles was a reflection of himself. He recognizes himself in their self-deprecation, the bone-deep pain. There was always a sense of sympathetic connection between the two of them, but he had no idea. He had no idea how far deep the mutual experiences went.

A part of him still can't believe that this is the truth, that this is what lies at their core, but then he remembers. He thinks about the night they were throwing up into the toilet. They were sobbing, crying into his shoulder about how much they hate themself.

“You know you didn't deserve it. Right?” Carmy's not sure when they started leaning in so close to each other. He's looking at their wet eyelashes with startling clarity. “You did all you could.”

“You don't know that.” Their words are so soft-spoken, but it still catches him off guard. “You don't know what happened.”

“You—” Irritation prickles inside him, his instincts itching to snap back, but he doesn't. He sees himself in them, and he holds back. “You're right. I don't know what happened. But I know you.” The shock is on their face as clear as day. “At least, I think I do.”

“I want to think you do, too,” they whisper. “But this—this messy bullshit is also me. I wish it wasn't. I wish you didn't have to see all this. I…don't want you to…think any less of me.”

“I don't think there's anything you could do to make me think less of you.” He doesn't resist dragging his thumb across a stray tear on their cheek. To his surprise, they lean into his touch. “Y'know when I almost burned down the apartment?”

“Oh my god.” They smile, and he feels their grinning cheek against his palm. “Yeah. Is it crazy to say I remember it fondly?”

“A little bit.” They laugh. It's quiet, but it's real. “Remember that talk we had after?”

“I do. Why?”

“You're allowed to mess up on onions,” he says softly. “It won't push me away.”

They stare at him for what feels like a long time. Their eyes refill with tears, but they don't spill. With a clammy hand, they shakily place their hand on top of his hand that's still cradling their wet cheek.

“Fucking onions,” they say finally with a wet laugh. Fresh tears drip onto his thumb, and he wipes them away again. As many times as it takes. “God damnit, Carmy.”

“No one deserves to have shitty parents, let alone ones that walk out on them.” He thumbs away more tears. “You being an imperfect person like everyone else doesn't justify that.”

“There must be something more I could've done,” they whisper. “Something I did wrong.”

“Maybe. But they're your parents, not the other way around. It's not your fault.”

“I know. I know that. I do. There just has to be a reason, because—fuck—the truth would just be too fucked up.”

“...And that is?”

It takes a long, still minute before they can get their words out.

“...It’s—it's that—” Their cries are verging on sobs, increasingly more staggered and uncontrollable. “It's that s-some kids—are just—some kids have parents that will never—never love—”

They can't finish. Their sobs have overtaken their whole body. Their body's hunched over the counter, curled into themself. Carmy can't think of a time where he's ever seen them crying so hard.

Without another word, Carmy pulls them into a hug.

They cry for a long time. Through it all, fleeting condolences pass Carmy by in his head, but they all feel too cheap, too meaningless. So all he does is hold them tight, letting them grab onto his shirt and soak the fabric on his shoulder. It's all he feels he can really do.

After a while, the tide subsides. He feels them wilting in his arms, exhausted from sobbing so violently. He doesn't actually want to let them go, but their sniffling nose sounds like it's completely stopped up.

“I'm gonna get you some tissues, ok?” He says quietly. They make a quiet noise of acknowledgement, and they pull back. He snatches up a box of tissues from the coffee table. He places it in front of them before grabbing them a glass of water.

“Thank you,” they mumble, voice scratchy. Carmy stands and watches as they blow through several tissues. The water gets downed instantaneously.

“Better?”

“Yeah. A lot better.”

“Good.”

“...I think, deep down, I know I didn't deserve what happened. Or just having shitty parents in general.” They sigh. “It's just easier to think that I do. That I deserve it.”

“...Yeah.” That resonates with a part of him he's not quite ready to acknowledge. “You're one of the kindest people I've ever met,” he admits quietly. “If someone like you deserves a shitty hand in life, I'm fucked.”

“Carmy…” Their smile is small, but genuine. “Thank you. I want to be able to genuinely believe that, one day. I'm going to try.”

“I know. I get it.”

“I know you do.”

That makes both of them smile, even if it's bitter.

“Thanks for telling me. About everything.”

“No, thank you for listening. For just being there for me.” They prop their chin in their hands, their elbows resting on the counter. “Y'know, this past year, I've been trying to find a sense of joy in all this mess. Sometimes it just feels so far away, like…like any happiness is just impossible. But I think I've found it. Rather, I've already found it.”

“Yeah?” Carmy looks at them expectantly, but he never expected this—

“I found you,” they tell him.

“...” He immediately fixes his shocked expression. He's at a loss for words.

Me?

“I never found a chance to mention it, but…my parents are the reason I decided to live with you. That's why I wanted to be your roommate, even though we were strangers.” They shrug shyly. “My lease was up on my last place. I was gonna go home, but then all that stuff happened at the last minute, and…yeah. I needed to find a place to live.”

“Seriously?” They just nod. “Damn. Uh…Yeah, that's fucking crazy. I had no idea.”

“At the time, I was miserable. I kept thinking to myself, ‘I can't believe how shitty this situation is!’ Don't get me wrong, it was fucking awful, but…it led me to you, so…it wasn't really all that bad, in the end. I got lucky.”

Fucking hell, he thinks to himself. Fuck.

“If you hadn't roomed with me, I wouldn't have been able to come back home for my brother's restaurant,” he says, mostly because he's so embarrassed that he swears his whole body's red at this point. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. “I think I'm the lucky one.”

“Can't we both be lucky?”

“I guess we can. Just doesn't seem very realistic.”

“Little too late to say that. It's already real.”

“...There's no other shoe?”

“Not that I know of. I think the other shoe's already dropped for us a while ago. Surely there's no other shoes left?”

“I hope not. I don't know if I could take another one.”

“Me neither.”

“...”

“Do you…want to eat your cake now?”

“Fuck, oh my god—I completely forgot! Yes!”

Just as Carmy planned, the flavors go perfectly together. Even though he knew it was going to be delicious, when he takes the first bite of the cake, relief washes over him. They seem to be overjoyed, inhaling the cake at dangerous speeds.

“You're gonna hurt yourself if you eat that fast,” he observes, both amused and concerned.

“Can't talk. Need to eat this.” That makes him laugh so abruptly he nearly gets cake up his nose. “This is the best birthday cake I've ever had, both visually and taste-wise.”

“I'm glad. Like I said, I'm not really a baker, but…I make an alright cake.”

“You make a fantastic cake.” They’ve got a bit of frosting on the corner of their mouth. “It doesn't get much better than this—eating a cake made by you.”

“Because I'm a chef, you mean?”

“No, not that. Not just that, anyway,” they amend with a cheeky grin. “Because you're my best friend.”

You're my best friend.

…

I'm their best friend, he repeats to himself. I'm their best friend.

He thinks about crying. He won't cry, but he thinks about it.

“Oh,” he replies intelligently. “...Really?”

“Y-Yeah. Unless, uh, you don't—”

“You're my best friend too,” he blurts out, and the anxiety on their face fades away into a relieved, beautiful smile.

“Thank god. That would've been pretty awkward if you didn't…” They shake their head.

“I've never been anyone's best friend before,” he confesses.

“Seriously?” They recover from the shock quickly. “Lucky me, then.”

“I thought you established we were both the lucky ones.”

“Oh, right.” They chuckle. “Lucky both of us, then.”

Carmy thought that life would always be the same. He thought that he was fated to a routine of nausea and nightmares, never quite close enough to reach a rest point. He thought that he was okay with it being his fate, because he never knew anything else.

He thought that loneliness, cigarettes, and memories would be enough, because it always stays the same. Nothing ever changes.

Until them.

He thought he had outgrown happiness, that his body had grown accustomed to living without it. That there was no longer space in his heart to withstand the weight of joy. But as he sits here with his roommate, chatting and laughing over a cake he made for them, he finds that's not true.

His capacity for happiness had never left. It had been there all along.

And with that, something in him lets go.

Carmy sees it all at once. It starts from the beginning—he sees the first day he met them, an initially hesitant meeting gone surprisingly well. He sees the first time the two of them smoked together, deliriously laughing through shared smoke. He sees them in the mornings, messy hair and wrinkled t-shirts. He sees them in nothing but an apron. He sees them in tight black clothes that leave little to the imagination. He sees them laughing at a joke that he didn’t think was all that funny.

He sees them in his dreams, red tomato puree bleeding from their gums. He sees them holding his trembling hands in theirs, soothing him back down from the storm in his hand. He sees them comforting him through his tears. He sees them sobbing, hot tears on their cheek and his hand. He sees them heaving into the toilet, whispering that they want to know him. He sees himself, embracing them tightly in his arms.

He sees it all. He knows that he can't avoid it anymore.

Carmy is completely, undeniably in love with them, and there is absolutely nothing that he can do to make that realization disappear.

…Some things, he understands, refuse to stay the same.

@zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @carmenbrzatto @thehouseofevangelista

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy the bear #the bear fx #my fics #alexithymia fic #GOD. IT'S FINALLY HERE. THIS ONE'S A BEAST.#ch 6 is gonna be the climax..... it's gonna happen yall. it's finally here. hahahaha #anyway this one took so long to write because it was so revealing for me... as i'm sure yall have guessed. sigh.

88 notes · View notes

speedycoffeedelight · 2 months

Note

Hello! I've returned with more 'Reader helps get everyone a job' scenarios! And this time, not anon ✨️

Also, so happy to see you referenced my first ask, really made my day!

Anyway, scenarios begin.

Reader: Velvette, this is the second job you've been fired from since you got here. There isn't exactly many clothing store in town and if you keep getting fired, you'll be deemed 'unhireable'.

Velvette: *Rolling her eyes on her phone* I don't see why you're so bothered by that, I'm already a small time influencer and with the way I'm manipulating the algorithm, I'll be monetised in no time. Besides, the clothes they sold there weren't even good enough for a dumpster fire.

Reader: Anyway... There's atleast 2 more clothing stores available before we have to start looking elsewhere, a sports clothes store and a thrift shop.

Velvette: Pfft, thrift shop? You can't in your right mind think I'd be touching second han- wait. *Types on her phone* Thifting is in, sign me up! And then call Princess in here, her little lamb form is guaranteed to get me more likes then that bitch Geraldine's yappy mutt in socks and sunglasses.

Reader: Lute, I don't mean to be insulting or anything but I'm not sure if you could handle being a supermarket security guard. It can be a very dangerous job.

Lute: I understand you're concerns but allow me to lay them to rest with a quick demonstration of my capabilities.

*Lute quickly tackles Sir Pentious to the ground and pins him as he shouts a quick 'Why me?!'*

Adam: Listen Babe, I don't see what the issue is.

Reader: Adam, the bar is looking for a live band to there regularly, not a solo guitarist. Now I'm sure you are a wonderful singer-songwriter but they're not looking for a solo musician.

Adam: *Crossing arms* Fine. What other jobs are there.

Reader: Plenty, and almost all of them are places we've already got someone in so they can recommend you and you're pretty much guaranteed to be hired.

Adam: Okay Babe, fire away.

Reader: Well, the local cafés looking for another waiter (Charlies workplace).

Adam: Uh, pass.

Reader: The fast food joint needs another cashier. (Vaggies workplace)

Adam: Next.

Reader: The restaurant-dinner is willing to train up a sous-chef with no prior experience or qualifications (Angels/Husks workplace).

Adam: Eh, I don't cook.

Reader: The council is hiring more trash collectors, it sounds bad but has incredibly good pay (Niftys workplace).

Adam: As much as I'm down for driving a massive truck, somethings telling me to stay away from that little freak. She might stab me in the back or something.

Reader: You also don't have a driving license. Anyway, the radio station is hiring a files clerk (Alastors workplace).

Adam: They play rock or metal?

Alastor: *From another room* Nope!

Adam: Then, nah.

Reader: *Muttering to self* And I don't think you can work for the mechanics without a driving license either (Cherris workplace).

Reader: The florist is hiring. (Lucifers workplace).

Adam: *Fake gags*

Reader: What about working at that bowling alley and arcade pizzeria? (Voxs workplace)

Adam: *Sticks out tongue*

Reader: The clothing store? (Velvettes workplace)

Adam: *Raises eyebrow*

Reader: The local supermarket? (Lutes workplace)

Adam: *Pours slightly*

Reader: *Sighs and starts rubbing temple* Well, the only other places available is the post office and that steakhouse on the outskirts of town.

Adam: Steakhouse? Now that's what I'm talking about! Sign me up straight away.

Reader: I thought you said you don't cook.

Adam: Listen Babe, it's grilling, not cooking. Big difference. Besides, I literally invented the grill, you know? It's like 1 of the top 5 best ideas I ever had, you know, right next to naming a bunch of birds 'tits'.

Reader: You invented the grill? That's actually kinda impressive.

Lucifer: Don't flatter him, love. He had to invent a whole new way of cooking meat or else he'd have starved everytime Eve made him sleep on the coach.

Adam: HEY!

HEYYY!! Good to see you back again!! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

Yeah , velvette gonna be a real bitch(HAH-) working at stores. She won't settle for anything that's not up to her taste.

* Reader sighing in the corner trying to find more shops.*

Poor Pentious, he had to be the example 🤣🤣

*the cast and reader giving Pentious concerned glances*

And there's Adam, the first man who can't settle on one job( just like girls- *gets shot in the head*). I can definitely see him inventing grilling like this 😂😂

Thank you yet again for your creative and unique headcannons! I truly enjoy reading them!! ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #velvette x reader #lute x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #charlie x reader #hazbin vaggie #hazbin cherri bomb #hazbin alastor #hazbin niffty #hazbin hotel husk

94 notes · View notes

feelbokkie · 2 months

Text

Sorry, I Love You | Chapter 10

pairing: Jeongin x fem reader

genre/warnings: smau, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au, friends to lovers, unrequited love, will they, won’t they dynamic, abusive relationship, alcohol abuse/alcoholism, emotional/psychological abuse

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

warnings: swearing, mention of food and eating, hints of past abuse (nothing explained or depicted)

summary: Jeongin is in love with his best friend and he has been ever since he met her back in high school. He’s not sure how Y/n feels about him and in order to persevere their friendship, it’s a secret he keeps to himself. But when Y/n starts showing interest in one of their new neighbors, Jeongin starts to worry about the future of their relationship.

taglist: CLOSED

word count: 3,447

screenshot count: 6 (plus bonus picture)

previous | masterlist | next

“…I talked to the guy who ran the place and he’s going to let us borrow a car for free.” Ryujin while lifting one of the tables, Yeji lifts from the other end.

“So I don’t get to demolish a car with a sledgehammer? C’mon, Ryu, you're killing me. Let me do something," Beomgyu whines, dropping his side of the table and flopping down to the group. Yeonjun struggles to keep the table from dropping on his foot, shooting a glare at him that would definitely send him six feet under if Beomgyu was the type of person who gave a fuck.

"Don't you have props to get?" Jisung asks, setting up the chairs around the tables that are already in place.

"Yeah, but I don't get to make anything. Jeongin and Y/n have been going with me to thrift stores to find everything and it's boring. My creative expression is being stunted!" He screams, his voice bouncing on the walls.

"So was Changbin's height but you don't hear him bitching and moaning about it," Jeongin mutters, walking back into the room with Changbin. Changbin stops dead in his tracks and just stares at him,

"I was literally just minding my own business..." Changbin breathes to himself before going to help Yeonjun move the table.

"Speaking of shopping, I'm reminding all of you that you should be sending me your receipts so I can reimburse you with the money from the film grant. And no, coffee and food does not count as a film expense." Ryunjin sighs as she and Yeji set the table down.

You sit in the corner of the room with Hyunjin, helping him write the name place card name tags for everyone. You focus on working on the tags for the crew while Hyunjin works on the cast. You know he only offered so you wouldn't have to see Soobin's name. It's moot, you've already mentally prepared yourself to see him in person for the first time since you broke up with him. Seungmin's already come up to you three times to remind you that don't have to be there today. But you can't avoid him forever, so why not start now? At least you're surrounded by all of your friends.

"Oh good, you guys are done." Seungmin walks in with Chaeryeong in tow, both of them carrying a small stack of scripts. The pair of them set the scripts on the table you and Hyunjin are sitting at.

"You guys don't have to staple those. Lia and Tae are coming over right now to do that." Chaeryeong says as she stretches her arms.

You nod your head as you set your last card in a neat little pile. You look at Hyunjin, who is smirking to himself as he also places his last card in this pile.

Yeonjun and Beomgyu start setting out the food they brought on the tables designated for the crew. Jeongin gestures for you to sit by him as he quietly helps spread out utensils. You quietly take your seat just as Beomgyu slides a bowl over to you.

"Thanks," You softly smile at Beomgyu.

"Time to eat like our lives depend on it because we have about 15 minutes before the actors get here," Yeji says quickly, sitting down and immediately opening her food.

All of you eat in silence, too focused on trying to finish your food before everyone gets there. Nobody says anything as you and Jeongin share your food, a habit that the two of you developed early in your relationship. It started when you couldn't decide what to eat one day for dinner with the group, having to decide between two things and unsure which to choose. They both sounded good, but being new to Korean food at the time, you weren't sure which one you should get. Jeongin offered to order one of the meals and split it with you while you got the other one and did the same. Now, anytime you two are eating, you split the meal.

***

You help Kai clean up the tables while the rest of the crew choose their seats at their respective tables. Taehyn and Lia sit by the door, ready to hand the actors their scripts and name cards. Yuna is around somewhere, running a last-minute errand for Seungmin since she didn't need to be at the table read today, but came anyway after finishing classes early for the day.

You toss the trash in the bin and head back to take your spot next to Jeongin. You quietly dig around your backpack for your copy of your script. When you find it, you gently set it down on the table along with a pencil to take notes later. You look over at Jeongin, who tosses his script on the table with a notebook and a few pens. It's laughable how different your scripts are. Yours is still neat and mostly perfect while Jeongin's is already falling apart, all bent corners and tattered pages. You'd think he's had his copy for years.

"Ever heard of a binder? Or a folder at least?" You joke, flipping through his pages. There are doodles and notes scribbled in the margins; possible visual effects that might play out during a scene filled with a bunch of question marks and "ask Seungmin"s.

"Makes my backpack all bulky," He rolls his eyes at you, gently taking his script from your prying eyes.

"I've seen the inside of your backpack. You barely have anything in it, you can handle a little bulk." You point at his empty bag, lying open on the floor.

"Yeah? And where am I--"

Bam!

Jeongin is cut off by the classroom door suddenly opening. Everyone stops what they're doing to see who, or what, caused the door to open so violently. You quirk your eyebrow as you watch both Felix and Chan standing at the door, panting heavily. Felix collapses on all fours, trying to catch his breath while Chan leans on the door frame, his head resting on his forearm.

"Didn't your class end like 5 minutes ago?" Lia questions, her hands hovering over the name cards unsure of if she should look for them or get them some water.

"Y...yeah...we...we came...straight her...here," Chan pants, squeezing his eyes shut like he's seeing stars.

"Isn't it on the other side of campus?" Ryujin questions this time, walking over with water bottles for both men.

Felix takes the bottle before looking up. His eyes scan the room before they land on you and then he looks directly across from you. Wordlessly, he crawls over to the table on the other side of the room. He picks the chair directly across from you and climbs into it, "Fucking booked it...n...needed...to...'fore... before...zoo in..."

"Zoo in?" Yeonjun's face twists in confusion and concern at Felix's words.

"Ah, it's a long story, he..." Changbin glances at you for a second, "he's talking about he who shall not be named."

"Lord Voldemort?" Both Jisung and Beomgyu question in unison, tilting their heads in the same direction.

"Oh my fucking god," Hyunjin throws his head in his hands.

You watch as Chan finally moves from the door and slumps into the seat next to Felix, the water bottle in his hand now empty. Still trying to catch his breath, his hand flies to Felix's back rubbing it. Chan makes eye contact with you. He stares for a moment before he winks.

It finally clicks that both Felix and Chan ran a marathon across campus to ensure they would get there before Soobin did. You know that the three of them, along with Minho, have similar schedules and they're all in the same class that just let out. The fact that two of your friends have to inconvenience themselves makes you feel weird inside, and not in a good way. Terrible even, like you're burdening them with your personal problems. Your hands drop from the table top and into your lap, wringing your hands. Your nails digging into your skin. You break eye contact, focusing on the dirty carpet instead. There's a dark spot that you can only assume used to be a piece of gum, black and hardened from months of being stepped on and neglected.

"Where's Minho? Did you guys use him as a sacrifice or something to slow him down?" Changbin hands both Chan and Felix their scripts and name cards.

"No, he went to get us food because he 'wasn't going to do all that.' But I think he was just hungry. We've been busy since early this morning. The photography students were doing headshots so we beat the crowd." Felix explains, finally sitting up.

You freeze as you feel Jeongin's hand goes on top of both of yours. It's enough to snap you out of your slight daze. You turn to look up at him, only to be met with the back of his head. He's busy talking to Beomgyu about something, you're not even sure how he knew what you were doing. He wiggles your hands apart, taking the one closest to him into his hand and squeezing it tight all while not pausing his conversation. You can't control the small smile that creeps up on your face. Somehow, Jeongin's touch is pulling you out of your head a bit. You squeeze his hand back as a thank you.

The two of you sit like that for a while, quietly engaging in separate conversations. Slowly, more actors fill the room and take their seats. Minho finally comes in and brings Felix and Chan their food before taking his seat on the other side of Felix.

“Tch,” You didn’t see Soobin walk into the room, you were too focused on your conversation with Yuna. But the all too familiar annoyed sound was enough to make everything around you free.

You quickly yank your hand out of Jeongin’s and set it back in your lap. You look in the direction of where the noose came from in time to make eye contact with Soobin before he shakes his head and turns his attention back to Taehyun. You notice Soobin’s around a girl with familiar thick black curly hair.

Nico.

You know a little too much about her. After your break up with Soobin, you spent a little bit of time researching her. Mulling over how much better she is than you. She’s a freshman and an acting major too, so there’s no coincidence that she’s here. She must have auditioned and got a role. Part of you wants to go up to her right now and tell her to run but another part tells you not you. That it’ll somehow backfire on you if you say anything. You’re not even sure what they are. Part of you thinks he's doing this to get back at you, to hurt you still just because he knows he can. A larger part of you is worried for her.

Trapped in your brain, you’re on autopilot as the table read starts. You don’t register any of what’s being said. You introduce yourself when it’s time but after that, you’re back in your head, staring at the space on the table being occupied with your script. You're not needed for the table read anyway. Maybe you should have listened to everyone and just went home after class. It's been months but Soobin still holds so much over you. You don't hear the welcome speeches from Seungmin, Ryujiun, Jisung, and Hyunjin. You barely hear something about credits and zero-tolerance policies. You don't even register when the actors start to actually read the script. Everyone's voice blurs into one large unrecognizable one. Everyone's voice but Soobin's.

You definitely should have listened to Seungmin and gone home after class. You don't notice how Jeongin turns the pages for you to keep you on track. You barely notice the tap of his knee against yours until he slides over a piece of paper towards you.

Your head rests on the car door, the cool air blowing on your face. You and Jeong drove around for a little bit with the wind blowing through your hair. Washing your worries away. Or maybe but pushing them back for a moment.

You don't remember the table read. You checked out for most of it, having read the script previously you didn't really need to pay attention anyway. Not that you could even if you wanted to. Not when Soobin was in the same room with you, flirting with some other girl. Not when your eyes kept meeting during bouts of stolen glances.

“Do you ever wish you could run away as far as you can in one direction and just start over wherever you stop?” You sigh, leaning back into your seat. Your eyes focus on the water in the lake that Jongin parked in front of. You're not entirely sure where the two of you are. You don't really care.

“I have... a little over half a tank of gas left. If we keep going straight, we should be able to hit Busan." Jeongin hums, "It’s a port city so we could become fish merchants or something. Or we could probably drive straight into the ocean if you’re feeling adventurous. Maybe we’ll find the lost city of Atlantis.”

You turn to Jeongin, tilting your head to the side like a confused puppy, “We?”

“Yeah," He scoffs like it was so obvious that he was meant to go with you. "what kind of best friend would I be if I let you run away by yourself? Plus, my life would be so boring without you. I get sad thinking about how you might not be able to stay after your student visa expires after graduation.”

“I might come back." You pull down the sleeves of your jacket, suddenly feeling cold. "I know the industry better over here than the one back home.”

You play with the hem of your sleeves for a bit. It's been on the back of your mind lately. Moving back home and leaving South Korea for good when you graduate. Not because you want to, but because your visa has an expiration date. You could always apply for a work visa but without the promise of job security, it's proving harder for you to be able to find a way to stay. You don't want to leave your friends and abandon the life you've built for yourself but it's not as simple as wanting to stay.

“If they won’t let you back, I could just marry you so that they have to,” Jeongin says softly.

You're not sure if you've heard him properly. Your body runs cold despite your large jacket. “What?”

“I-I said you can marry one of us guys so you can legally stay,” He turns his face away from you, rubbing the back of his head. His neck and ears quickly becoming red.

“Hm, yeah." You hum, facing forward again, focusing on the white birds that landed on the water. "Don’t know how my parents will feel about that but if push comes to shove…”

“My parents are…strict so they might not let it slide but they’ll warm up to you. It’s impossible to know you and not like you,”

“It took you a while,” You laugh, remembering how long it took Jeongin to warm up to you.

“That’s…a long story,”

“We have time." You sit up straight, adjusting your seatbelt across your torso. "We’re driving into the ocean to become merpeople right? That’s about 5 hours, give or take.”

Jeongin lets out a loud cackle-like laugh that you've only heard a handful of times, “You don’t even know how to swim!”

“I’ll grow gills,”

“That’s not how that works!”

“Why are you yelling at ms? This was your plan,”

“Your first mistake was going along with it.”

You turn your full body to face Jeongin, holding your seatbelt in your hand so it doesn't choke you. “And my second mistake?”

“Thinking that we would turn into merpeople and not just drown.” He finally sets the car keys in the cupholder between the two of you

“You wouldn’t let me drown,” You say with a level of certainty that you're confident with. You're not sure why, but somehow you know that Jeongin would never let anything bad happen to you if he had anything to do with it. And if he's the one driving, he's definitely not putting you in harm's way.

“You’re right, I would never let you drown,”

“Wait, isn’t Busan next to the Yellow Sea? Atlantis was supposed to be in the Atlantic Ocean, hence the name Atlantis.”

“Well, shit...We’ll find something down there. I’m sure of it.”

The two of you sit in relative silence for a while. Watching the sky shift from blue to pink to orange while music softly plays from Jeongin's phone. Occasionally, he'll hum along to the song. Quietly, so as to not disrupt the peace in the car.

"My Korean isn't great" You start suddenly, "but I'm painfully aware that our friends think I'm a fucking idiot because of my feelings for Soobin."

"I'm sure they don't--"

"I'm not saying that so you can cheer me up. I know already. I saw it in their faces every single time I told them we got back together. It's just..."

"Just what?"Jeongin questions as he lowers the music on his phone.

You stare out at the water, watching as the birds from earlier finally fly away. You're not sure if you should continue, but you take a deep breath and do so anyway.

"Look, I know he's not a good person, you don't have to tell me that. I was there. I lived it. I relive it in my dreams. But sometimes, just when I think I'm done for good, I see a glimpse of the old Soobin and I think 'This time will be different.' And it is... for a little bit. And then I lose him all over and I'm in a new circle of hell."

"Y/n..."

"A large part of me knows I don't deserve any of this. But there is a small, incessantly annoying part of me that is somehow louder telling me that I'm not going to find someone who will love me more than Soobin does...did."

"You're wrong," He says simply.

"Hm?" You hum, turning your head in his direction.

You watch as Jeongin's mouth opens and closes repeatedly, no sound going past his lips. He's at a sudden loss for words, like he knows what to say but he's not sure that he should say it. He quickly squeezes his tight shut before sighing.

"I j-just meant that...our friends. We all love you. There are 17 people who love you, not including your family. But our friend group already ratios him so, you're wrong."

"You know that's not what I meant..."

"I know!" He groans, hitting his head on the headrest "I know, just--someone out there loves you more than Soobin ever did. Trust me. Just...just don't...give up. Don't go back to him and don't give up. Please?"

"Do you...know something that I don't?"

The tension in the car is so thick, that you're not sure how either one of you are still breathing. Jeongin has trouble meeting your eyes. He faces forward, chewing on his lower lips as he thinks. He pinches the bridge of his nose before finally turning to you.

"It's just a feeling I have in my gut. Honest to God, I know nothing. And you know how religious I am."

"So religious that you don't even go to Church."

"Don't start with me, I already get that from my mother weekly." He groans before turning to you. "Look, you trust me, you always have. Trust me on this: someone out there loves you so much that your happiness means more than their own. And when you're ready, they'll...they'll appear in your life. So don't go back to that asshole because you think he's it for you. Because he's not."

There's a tone in Jeongin's voice that you're not used to hearing. He's serious. You can't remember the last he wasn't fucking around. He's almost always joking. He rarely gets mad and he even rarely gets serious. At least, not around you.

You take it in the hardened expression on his face. The thin line his lips form. The lines in his forehead from his eyebrows furrowing. The pleasing look in his eyes begging you to believe him, even though you always have.

You give him a small, yet tired smile, "I trust you, Jeongin."

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Taglist

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @marked-unknown @veedoesntknaur @nuronhe @lixie-phobia @yongbbokkie @f9clementine @kibs-and-bits @jihanlovic @puppysmileseungmin @jaydebow @kangaracharacha @lilcutieana @lanatheawesome @everglowdaisies @babrieeee @sunshinessky @szkstay @aslou @weird-bookworm @autumn-lv @ismelllikechlorine247 @stay278 @wolfennracha @tesywesy @mmmsvnts

65 notes · View notes