#I was gonna put a lit cigarette in his hand but no fire in the archives.
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hiiii 😊 i LOVE your writing, especially shy!reader!! i heard you wanted more spooky/angsty requests, so...
maybe one with eddie where they're camping with the group around halloween and everyone is telling scary stories around the campfire, but reader gets really scared and doesn't wanna hear any more, but she can tell eddies having so much fun that she doesn't say anything. eventually eddie notices something's wrong but reader won't tell him what, then he figures it out and comforts her?
ty lovie! hope you like it! — eddie comforts you when your imagination runs too wild, maybe a little more than best friends are supposed to (shy!reader, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, 1.5k)
fictober leftovers (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)
You know you shouldn’t be as scared as you are, but you keep torturing yourself anyway.
Robin Buckley, as it turns out, has about the same storytelling abilities as Edgar Allan Poe. She spins a web of horror with nothing but a couple wretched words and a wild imagination. Lit up orange by the simmering campfire, you listened to her in wide-eyed horror — like a child just learning about the boogeyman.
She’s stomping out that fire now, laughing loud and pretty after telling Nancy some dirty joke, and acting like she didn’t just get done telling the gnarliest ghost story of all time. You’re frozen on the rickety bench that overlooks the pitch-black lake, too busy convincing yourself that there’s a figure in the treeline — a Jason Vorhees equivalent on his way to murder you in your sleep.
Eddie’s sitting beside you, though. The warmth of his presence puts you at ease, like a belly full of food or a warm bed. You nearly jump out of your skin when he rises from the picnic table.
“Me and Steve were gonna go smoke,” he tells you, pulling a smushed carton of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “You okay here?”
You blink at him for a moment. It takes you a second too long to hear him, having been so stuck in your own head. You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod and try your best to smile something convincing. It’s a grimace, at best.
Eddie sees right through you. You’re rarely so passive with him. He’d only asked ‘cause he doesn’t like to smoke around you much. He knows you don’t like it. Now he’s scared he might’ve offended you in some way.
“You sure?” he presses, bushy brows pinched in concern.
You nod again, much slower this time and far more dramatic.
Eddie smiles down at you, pink and lopsided. This quiet, sarcastic version of you is much more familiar. “Well, are you gonna speak, or are you gonna do the not-talking thing for the rest of the night?”
He flicks a strand of your hair. You squint. What not-talking thing? you’d argue if he didn’t know you so damn well. Instead, you just tell him, “I’m okay,” in the firmest tone your mousy voice can muster.
“Do you wanna come with?”
He cocks a thumb over his shoulder, where Steve’s brave figure ventures up the darkened trail to his dad’s lakehouse. You cower under the weight of his chocolate stare, wringing your clammy hands in your lap.
“Is that okay?” you ask in response.
Eddie scoffs. “Of course, it’s okay! Want you everywhere I go.”
You try not to get all flustered about it. Friends aren’t supposed to burn up like a stove-eye when their best friend is nice to them. It’s impossible not to, though, when Eddie’s leather-clad arm wraps around your shoulders — to keep you close, maybe, or to keep you warm.
Your stomach is in knots about it either way.
You lean further into his warmth. He smells like cologne and boy and a weekend on a lake. You wrap your arms around yourself when a crisp breeze prickles your skin. You clench your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering.
Eddie sees everything you hide from him and holds you tighter. “Told you to wear a jacket.”
“It was warmer earlier!” you retort without missing a beat.
“Well, that’s why you listen to me.”
“I didn’t have a jacket big enough to wear over my sweater!”
“I told you to borrow mine, you loon!”
“But then you would’ve been cold!”
The married couple arguing fills the darkened woods, illuminated only by a dim moon and some amber lanterns hung every couple yards. Something rustles in the pitch-black, and the bickering ceases.
Your heart lurches into your throat. You gasp, almost cartoonishly so, and your sneakers scuff along the gravel when you freeze.
Eddie laughs it off like he always does. The warm, honeyed, boyish noise doesn’t comfort you like it usually does. “It’s okay,” he tries to assure you through his chuckling, squeezing your shoulder with a warm hand. “It’s probably just, like, a rabbit or something.”
You remain frozen and unswayed. “Sounded heavier than a rabbit…”
“What? You are, like, an expert on wildlife now?” Eddie teases, if only to make you smile. You do, but just barely. He holds you tighter and juts his chin back to look down at you, grinning wide to make up for the lack of yours. “You spend one weekend in a cabin, and suddenly you’re a know-it-all on nature?”
You start smiling wider despite yourself. The sparkly feeling Eddie swirls in your chest is much more powerful than the tiny, lingering fear in your tummy.
“I just know what footsteps sound like, dork.”
The rustling returns, louder now. Tree limbs crack when they’re broken beneath the weight of something definitely heavier than a rabbit. When two figures appear from the blackened forest, you stumble into Eddie on instinct. He presses you closer to him without thinking, pulling you backward from the lanky silhouettes across the trail.
One step closer, and the shadows have faces. Jonathan and Argyle stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the tall grass. They’re starry-eyed, gazes rimmed red. The latter lifts the hem of his t-shirt, forming a bowl of something you can’t see.
“Hey, brochachos!” Argyle greets, perhaps a little too loud for the late night.
Jonathan is the only halfway sober one of the two, so he notices the fright dancing in your features before his best friend can. He mumbles, much quieter in comparison to his brightly-dressed counterpart, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“The hell are you guys doing out here?” Eddie wonders with a partly forced laugh.
“Scavenging for mushrooms,” Argyle answers like it’s obvious. He brings down the bottom of his shirt and flashes the makeshift bowl of mushrooms he’s collecting there.
The brunette boy nods. Slow, dumbfounded, and a little impressed. “That is a… totally normal thing to be doing in the middle of the night… We’ll, uh— We’ll leave you to it, I guess.”
“I’ll make sure to save you some!” the Californian boy promises as the two of you head up the trail.
Eddie’s hold on you doesn’t waver. His leather arm is firm in its grip and its delegation to keep you close to his side. You’re halfway stumbling to keep up with his longer strides, but you don’t mind it. You’re just happy to be held.
“You can breathe now, you know?” he teases.
You manage a trembling laugh. You know you have nothing to worry about, but you’re still high-strung and worried without cause. “Sorry. I just… I don’t know— I got a little scared.”
“Yeah. I can tell,” Eddie scoffs. “Feels like I’m hugging a rock right now.”
Your laugh is more genuine this time, but still a bit forced. Eddie can tell. You’ve been quiet all night, reserved and a little standoffish. You’ve always been a little timid in your way, just more than he’s used to now.
“Was it those dumb ghost stories everyone was telling earlier? ‘Cause I said we shoulda just played Spin the Bottle instead.”
You lean further into him to nudge him with your shoulder. “It’s fine. I’m just a baby.”
“No, Robin is just the second coming of Stephen fucking King.”
“Yeah, that’s also probably true,” you concur with a shrug, feigning a sort of nonchalance despite your racing mind. “My imagination is just… a little crazy sometimes.”
“Trust me, I know,” Eddie sighs, then slows down so he can face you more. His features are softened beneath the amber glow — more so when he gazes at you with a honeyed fondness you’re not entirely sure two friends are supposed to have for each other.
You’re cold when he unwraps his arm from around your shoulders — warm again when he holds your cheek in a calloused palm. You hope you’re not burning him with how hot your face has gone.
“I wanna know what’s going on in here,” he murmurs quietly, tapping a ringed finger to your temple.
“It’s a scary, scary place,” you joke back. It’s mostly true, but you figure it’s easier than saying that your brain is so often filled with thoughts of him.
“Well, I’ll protect you from whatever nasty horrors your mean ol’ brain conjures up,” Eddie promises, nose scrunched and dark eyes sparkling.
Your chest swells with a foreign warmth, so hot it burns. “Thanks, Eds,” you mumble, trying your hardest not to melt into a puddle at his feet. The two of you fall into stride once more.
“I’ll even let you sleep in my bed and put your cold feet on me if you want.” He offers it begrudgingly. Like it’s some kind of burden. He doesn’t mind it, though. He’d beg you for it if you wanted him to.
You scoff and roll your eyes. “How chivalrous.”
“You’ll have to put up with Harrington’s snoring, though.”
The two boys are sharing one room while the rest of you girls share the other. You pinch your brows and flash him a pointed look. “Eds, you snore.”
His face screws up in offense. “I do not!”
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#stranger things x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fic#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fluff#st drabbles#eddie spaghetti drabble#event: fictober!
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Wrote something short for the Little Lucky AU, the Ace interaction prompt really got me itching to write
What'cha Got There?
Yandere Straw Hats + Ace x Child Reader
1.3k words
“Does he think we’re stupid?”
Sanji’s lighter flickered to life and lit his cigarette. He took a long drag and exhaled it with a huff, sparing a glance towards Nami before zeroing back in on the sight in front of them. “It certainly seems like he does,” he ground out.
The ‘he’ in question being Luffy’s brother, Ace.
No one thought much of it upon seeing how well he got along with Lucky. You’re a sweet kid, and he seems like a fun and level-headed adult, so there’s no harm in letting you play together. There was, admittedly, a twinge of jealousy when he managed to get her to call him ‘uncle Ace’ within like 24 hours of meeting, but they were all trying to let it go.
Now though, when he’s walking around with a suspiciously child-shaped lump under his clothes while trying to leave, Sanji and Nami are feeling much less generous about it. They were currently standing between him and where his boat was tied to the side of the Going Merry, arms crossed and expressions unamused.
Ace cringed at the sight, shifting and adjusting the lump that just giggled from being jostled, “Hey! I’m gonna be leaving now, thanks for letting me tag along with you guys for so long. It was really generous of you.”
“Why are you wearing your cloak again?” Nami asked accusingly. Ace was wearing the same cloak he’d had on while they were hiking through the desert, a strange sight to see with how minimal he tended to be in regards to clothing.
“Oh, this? I uh… I got cold?” He offered, not looking like he was even buying what he was selling.
Nami scowled, wanting to reach out and slap the back of his head for telling her the dumbest and most obvious lie she’s ever heard. An impressive feat given what she hears from Usopp on a daily basis. “You, a man with a fire based logia devil fruit, are cold?” She hissed, putting a heavy emphasis on the last word.
Ace looked back and forth, his expression resembling that of a dog being asked why the couch was chewed up, “Yes?”
Sanji pushed off from the railing he was leaning against and began circling around Ace, “I know that you ate a lot at the last meal, but you sure have packed on a shocking amount of weight since then.” Sanji leaned over and poked the lump, watching as it flinched and snickered from the prodding.
He raised an eyebrow at this, “Seems like you’ve got quite the case of indigestion going on there, Ace. Maybe you should rest here another day until it passes?” His foot was tapping very aggressively, and if it weren’t for the fact that you’re currently on Ace’s person, he would have kicked him by now.
“That’s alright!” Ace interjected, hoisting up the wiggling child under his clothes and whispering for you to hush, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll work this off in no time flat!” He tried to step around Sanji, only to promptly bump into Nami.
Nami had had enough of this charade by now and ripped the cloak open, and what do you know, there you are! You froze briefly, eyes wide and mouth opened in surprise, only to then dissolve into laughter from being caught.
“See! I told you it wouldn’t work!”
“Well maybe it would have if you weren’t in there giggling and squirming the whole time!” Ace attempted to defend himself, poking at your cheeks with each word.
“Nuh-uh! You’re silly!” You grabbed onto his one hand with both of yours and tried to push it away, not that it really worked.
“Don’t ‘nuh-uh’ me!” He switched tactics and started tickling your sides, making you wrench away from him and shriek with laughter.
Despite their previous annoyance towards the attempted kidnapping, Nami and Sanji felt the urge to smile upon seeing you so happy. Nami shook her head. No! She needs to get you back before he tries making a break for it.
She stormed forward and snatched you right out of his arms. Instead of being grateful for the rescue, you were protesting and holding your arms out to Ace again. “Namiiii! We were playing!” You whined.
“No, Lucky, he needs to leave. He’s got important things to do, right?” Her eyes were narrowed and boring into him, daring him to contradict her.
Ace sighed and scratched the back of his head, shoulders slumped because Nami was correct, “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” He shrugged the cloak off his shoulders and stuffed it into his backpack unceremoniously.
As he approached you and Nami, noting how Nami clutched you tighter when he was in arm's reach, he bent down to your level and offered you a smile as warm as he was, “I’ve got to get going now, Lucky.”
“But you said we were gonna go see your other brothers,” you pouted, crestfallen over not being able to go on a trip with him. “You promised!”
He winced, feeling bad about not being able to keep to his word at this moment, “And we will! Later. I’ve got some business I need to take care of, but as soon as I’m done we’ll go. Promise!”
You eyed him with a high degree of uncertainty, “Hmm… pinky promise?”
Ace stared at your extended pinky for a second before chuckling. He held out his own, completely dwarfing yours and making the super serious pact, “Yeah, pinky promise.”
“When were you going to tell us about this promise?” Sanji seethed. “You can’t just run off with her whenever you want!”
“What? She can’t go and spend time with her favorite uncle once in a while?” Ace smirked, knowing full well how jealous they were. “I just thought maybe you guys would want a break or something.”
“Well we don’t,” Nami deadpanned.
Boisterous laughter cut through the air, and Luffy bounded over to leap onto his brother’s back, “Oh relax, Nami! Ace is just joking around!”
He absolutely wasn’t, and they knew it. And he knew that they knew it, but instead he just smiled innocently at Luffy and agreed. Liar.
Lucky’s brows furrowed and she looked back and forth between everyone, appearing confused and hurt, “You were? But we pinky promised!” You didn’t know what was the truth anymore.
Ace visibly panicked, “No, no! I meant it about you visiting them, I just,” he fell silent, trying his damnedest to find an answer that would please everyone. “I was joking about it just being the two of us, all of you can come meet them later!”
Luffy accepted this answer at face value, but Nami and Sanji just rolled their eyes, not believing that for a second. Ace would absolutely run off with you the first chance he got, but at least that first chance wouldn’t be today.
You were still pouting, not loving the answer because you were excited to make some new friends, “Fiiiiine.”
Ace laughed and ruffled your hair, “Aww, don’t be like that! It’ll happen soon enough!” He opted to push his luck one last time before he leaves and take you back into his arms for one more hug. Nami was glowering at him, but chose to let it slide since Luffy was still actively clinging onto him. She knows he won’t let you leave.
Visibly torn, Ace forced himself to hand you over to Luffy so he could actually leave now. He leapt onto the wooden railing, looking over his shoulder at the crew members on deck, “I guess it’s time for me to go, see you later everyone.” He made eye contact with you, specifically, “Bye, Lucky!”
“Bye-bye uncle Ace!” You cheerfully chirped back, waving at him enthusiastically.
Ace dropped onto his boat and made quick work of getting it ready for the latest voyage, smiling to himself despite knowing how perilous it was going to be. At least he had something to look forward to after it was all over.
#one piece#yandere one piece#one piece x reader#one piece x y/n#one piece x you#monkey d luffy#sanji#black leg sanji#cat burglar nami#one piece nami#nami#portgas d ace#fire fist ace#portgas d ace x reader#mokey d luffy x reader#luffy x reader#nami x reader#sanji x reader#yandere#platonic yandere#little lucky au#lucky break#this au is giving me baby fever istg
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₊˚ෆ bad habits
summary: peter tends to act on impulse — that’s what got him here in the first place.
pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader
tags: fluff, pining, peter’s a hopeless romantic
wc: 2.7k
What makes something a bad habit?
People usually use the phrase when they mean too much of something— too much coffee in the morning, too many cigarettes a day, too much to drink on the weekends. Overindulgence. Lack of self control.
Peter thought about this as he waited, the skin-tight material of his suit doing absolutely nothing to block the chilling rain running down his back. Past the city lights glimmering against her window pane, the apartment inside was dimly lit. He could make out the splash of colors against the hallway from the living room TV. It wouldn’t surprise him if she fell asleep on the couch again— she had a bad habit of staying up too late, biting off more than she could chew most nights and paying for it a few hours later. He wondered briefly, and hoped a bit selfishly, that he maybe had something to do with that.
He knocked again. Louder, in a little rhythm— bum ba bum, bum ba bum.
No more than once a week. That’s how it started out, however many months ago, when he crawled through that window for the first time. Swinging by more than one night a week would be way too much. He had things to do, really, and so did she. It wasn’t realistic to expect her to wait around, twiddling her pretty little thumbs, keeping her schedule free for a chance to let him into her bedroom window at 12:17 am.
12:18 am.
12:19 am.
Peter shivered. The cold had started to seep into his skin, but the chill that ran up and down his spine wasn’t from the sudden downpour.
Even the glimpse of her figure, a dark silhouette he could pick out in any city crowd, was enough to set off that tingle in the base of his skull, even for just a moment. He watched her scurry over to the window, an apologetic look tugging on her face.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t hear you,” she said, and her voice was music slipping over the smack of raindrops against the iron fire escape, “oh my God, get in here, will you?”
If he had a tail, it’d be wagging. Sometimes he was grateful for the mask and the few freedoms it allowed him—
“Wait here.”
—she couldn’t see the way his entire face lit up as he happily maneuvered through the window, or the way his eyes followed her as she wandered over to her linen closet to grab a towel for him.
Peter stood in a puddle on her hardwood. Obedient, embarrassingly so.
“Did I wake you up?” he asked. In the relative dark of her quiet bedroom, she handed him the towel, gazing up at him with the kind of eyes that make poets pick up pens.
“I should probably be saying yes, since it’s midnight, but I’m going to be disappointing and say no,” she chuckled under her breath and took a small step back.
Peter wrapped the towel around his shoulders like a kid getting out of the pool. It smelled like her laundry detergent, a scent he never thought he’d catch himself daydreaming about when he was miles away and objectively much busier with something much more pressing.
He had a bad habit of letting his mind wander, especially when it wanted to grip onto memories of her.
“You’re gonna hate yourself in the morning,” he replied.
She sent him a pointed look with a raised brow. “And so are you, when you wake up sick. What the hell are you doing? Does the song Itsy Bitsy Spider not ring a bell?”
She fussed over him. He liked it when she fussed over him.
“Yeah, y’know, the part where he climbs up the spout again is my favorite, actually.”
There was a pair of sweatpants and a big hoodie thrown at him before he could even pretend to argue against them.
“I’ll put some coffee on,” she said, gliding away, leaving him to drip quietly in her bedroom as he watched her back disappear down the hall.
“Decaf?” he called after her.
“Do you really want decaf?” she called right back.
She’d slipped from view, little clinks and clunks from the kitchen catching his ears. Peter shrugged the towel from his shoulders and started to peel his suit off. It’d become a second skin, literally and figuratively, clinging to every inch of him, making him shudder as the warmth of her apartment replaced the cold wrap of wet spandex.
“Yeah, if you don’t mind, bug— trying to be more health conscious this year,” Peter replied with a grin. In reality, he knew she’d be up all night and woefully exhausted the next day if she got her hands on some regular coffee, so he’d gladly take one for the team with decaf.
He stood at the foot of her bed in his boxers, looking down at the change of clothes she insisted upon him.
It was strange, the way Peter was utterly exposed like this, not even behind a closed door for a breath of privacy, but it didn’t bother him. The suit and the mask sat in a heap next to her radiator and it didn’t matter. He pulled the comfortable cotton up to his hips and slipped the hoodie over his head.
Soft, warm, foreign yet familiar all at once.
He heard her footsteps, heard them pause at the mouth of the hallway. The gut-drop feeling of meeting her gaze unobstructed, bare-faced and messy haired, wasn’t the same as it was the first time. Or the second, or third— she knew his face just as well as he knew hers at this point. Anxiety faded over time, replaced with a new, giddy sort of rush that started in his chest and spread over his body in waves.
She made him feel like a teenager again, and she didn’t even have to do anything. It was a little pathetic, maybe, how much he looked forward to these kinds of nights, but he’d ruminate about that later in the quiet of his bed.
Peter padded his way down the hall to her, moving through the space like he belonged there. He took in her small smile as she leaned back against the kitchen island. The smell of coffee hit him once the machine started to gurgle softly on the counter.
“Are you still cold? I can crank up the heat,” she offered as he drew closer. Her gaze fell on his mouth then— more specifically, the cut on his bottom lip. A little hiss escaped her as she reached up and brushed her thumb beside it.
He looked down at her with a slightly amused expression, watching her brows furrow down as she examined his face.
“No, it’s fine. I’m already walking around in your clothes, waiting on a cup of your coffee. I feel like a Tinder date that’s vastly overstayed his welcome, and I just got here,” Peter quipped, letting her turn his head by his jaw and study him some more. Her soft fingers caught his stubble but she didn’t seem to mind.
She arched a brow at him and eventually pulled her hand back. “I’ve never had a Tinder date crawl into my eighth-story window before.”
“I’m not really an expert on romance, but something tells me that’s a good thing.”
Her hum was low as she turned and gathered two mugs from the cupboard above her. “Tinder isn’t exactly the place to look for romance anyway, Spidey,” she sat them down with a clink.
Spidey.
He’d chosen to start with his face last summer. A bold choice, truly, but it felt like the safer option at the time. There was eight million people in New York— a couple thousand guys were bound to look just like him.
A face without a name was the tiniest breadcrumb he could drop to satiate that need, that desire to feel seen by her in some capacity without completely laying himself out there.
It was a dance he didn’t know the steps to. But she played along well, stumbling in the dark with him and letting him lead, however awkward and shaky.
Peter leaned against the counter and watched her pour two cups. “It’s not? I’m not really in the dating scene. Do people still meet out in the wild these days?”
And she gave him that little chuckle under her breath he liked. “You sound old,” she mused as she reached into her fridge. The pale light bathed her in a sweet, domestic sort of glow that one could only feel in sweatpants in the kitchen after midnight.
“Hey— I’m only twenty-six,” he countered, dipping his head despite the little grin growing on his face.
He watched her pause, just for a moment.
Another breadcrumb. A thread.
But she didn’t draw too much attention to it. Peter pictured her tucking it away for future reference.
“Well, to answer your question, yes. I guess people do still meet out in the wild,” she poured the creamer and scooped the sugar and reminded him that she knew so much about him without really knowing him, not yet, and he both loved and hated that, “but I’m probably not the best person to ask about all that. I think if a man randomly approached me in a bookstore or something, I’d probably assume he was some kind of weirdo.”
Peter hummed, his brow furrowed but his lips twitched into a lopsided grin. His fingers were cold when he gently accepted the drink from her.
“Alright, noted. What about guys that fall out of the sky and crash into your fire escape?”
He peered at her over the top of the mug as he took the longest, hottest drink of his life— anything to avoid the reality of what he just said for a few moments longer.
His throat burned, but it was fine.
The air felt heavier then, thick like the air outside as her gaze flicked over his face.
“That depends. Is he kind of awkward in a weirdly charismatic way?”
And Peter swallowed down the lava for a chance at a deeper breath without choking, “I mean— in this completely hypothetical and improbable scenario, yeah, I’d— I’d say so,” he replied.
The corners of her mouth curled up softly. “And did he come back a week later, trying to apologize with four different types of candy at ten o’clock at night?”
He cleared his throat to try and hide the chuckle that almost slipped out. “He didn’t know what kind you liked,” Peter said, that heat trickling up to his face for a different reason.
She blew on her coffee before sipping it, because she clearly had more sense than he did, and shrugged.
“Helping you out with a broken nose and a concussion makes for a more interesting story to look back on,” she replied softly.
This line they were toeing was a tightrope, strung high and taught and delicate.
Sometimes Peter wanted to take the leap. Just dive right onto the other side, tugging her along with him.
The clock on the stove read 12:37.
12:38.
“Do you think about it? The night we met?”
And she sat her mug down on the counter beside her. The sweater she wore was loose and comfortable on her frame as she crossed her arms. “Sometimes.”
“Just sometimes?”
“Do you?” she countered, tilting her head just a bit to the side as she gazed up at him.
Peter leaned back. His mug was empty, the roof of his mouth was a bit sore, but he swallowed regardless. “I do, sometimes.”
“Just sometimes?”
The rain outside picked up. It smacked against her windows with the whistle of wind just underneath it all.
“Sometimes, when I can’t sleep. I’m usually thinking about the last time I saw you, though. Much clearer picture there,” he said.
She rolled her eyes and looked off to the side, though her soft, slight smile cut the air of annoyance she tried to hold on to.
“Stop,” she mumbled, shaking her head, “that’s not fair.” He had a feeling he knew what she meant— and he had to agree, watching her avoid his gaze.
Peter reached a hand out to pull her arms out of their closed off, crossed position. Despite the tension in her shoulders, she was soft, pliable, letting him grasp her wrists and guide her forward gently into his torso.
He wrapped around her, his nose in her hair, committing the scent of her shampoo to memory.
“I know,” he mumbled back.
She was quiet, her cheek pressed against his chest in that borrowed hoodie she thought he looked criminally good in. After a few moments of his fingers lightly tracing shapes between her shoulder blades, she sucked in a breath. “That’s not fair, either, Spidey.” And she was right again.
He had a bad habit of trying to fix everything.
“Peter,” he said, his voice low against her roots, “it’s Peter.”
The wind shook the windows. She was nearly laying on him with how he held her, his long frame leaned back, arms circled around her shoulders. His breath came in calculated waves, but she could feel the rhythm changing the longer she stayed silent, along with his heartbeat under her ear.
A deep breath in, a deep breath out.
“Peter,” she tried it out, and it felt like hearing her voice for the first time.
His fingers splayed over her back and his palm smoothed up her spine. “Yes?” he mumbled back.
She had a bad habit of wearing her heart on her sleeve, at least around him.
“I think I might have a thing for guys who fall out of the sky and crash into my fire escape.”
Overindulgence, lack of self control— whatever it was, it didn’t matter, really. Peter smiled against her scalp. A low rumble of a chuckle vibrated through his chest. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head once, twice, and squeezed her against him.
She let out a little grunt in response, feeling too much like a squeaky toy to not laugh. “Pe—Peter—super strength, remember?”
“Right, yeah— my bad, bug,” he loosened his hold just enough for her to look up at him, her palms now flat on his chest between them. “But, y’know, you have some pretty weird tastes. I should’ve known when you picked the gummy bears over the Reese’s.”
12:52. He had one foot dangling on the other side of that line he spent far too long thinking about.
And she laughed that laugh and scrunched her nose up the way she did when she found something amusing, yet dumb. She did that a lot when he talked. He took it as a personal victory every time.
“You really don’t have any room to call me weird. You run around the city in spandex every night,” she mused, her lips curled into a smile.
“It makes me aerodynamic.”
“Yeah, you were real aerodynamic when you smacked your head on the rail—“
Peter was never really a planner. It made sense in the moment, to lean in and kiss her, his hands shifting to either side of her jaw. And it made sense the way she hummed into his mouth, either from surprise or the fact that she was very much in the middle of a sentence. But it was alright, because they stood there in the middle of her dark kitchen at 12:55 am, and her lips were soft, much softer than his.
He decided he could excuse every one of his bad habits, maybe write them off as quirks instead, because as he kissed her, he realized that every single one had led him right there; drinking decaf coffee in borrowed sweatpants, listening to the rain and her deepened breathing.
She pulled away just enough to speak, their lips still brushing against each other, “I wasn’t done—“
“Neither was I,” his tone was nothing but a playful tease, and he kissed her again, “how rude of you to interrupt me like that,” and again, “honestly, sometimes I can’t believe the lack of manners in this city.”
Her laugh was grounding when his head was busy floating. She smacked his chest lightly. “Lack of manners? Let’s start with you. You crawl in through my window soaking wet, drink my coffee in my clothes that I totally don’t keep around for you just in case, and kiss me without permission,” she gave him the grocery list and he nodded to each point over-attentively, humming along.
“Right, yeah— you forgot the part where I interrupted you.”
“And you interrupted m—“
Peter kissed her again.
#forgive me i’m rusty#peter parker x reader#tasm peter parker#p.parker#tasm#tasm!peter parker x reader
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Save Me - Part Two
A Short Story
~ Sometimes, when life seems the brightest, shadows creep in. After announcing their engagement to the world, Jensen's fiancé is kidnapped. With the help of a friend, she tries to fight her way back home to him.~
Jensen Ackles x F!Reader, Dean Winchester (cameos by Misha Collins and OCs)
7,160 Words Total. Part Two: 3,950
Warnings: My kind of Super Angst. Blood. Injury. Kidnapping. It's really sad...
A/N: Written for @jacklesversebingo "No one's coming to save you. Get up!"
PART ONE ~ PART TWO
Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works
Snow was falling from a gray sky. Big flakes landed on his shoulders, dusted his hair, melted on his cheeks. His lips were frozen; his fingers numb.
The cherry of his cigarette fell to the icy sidewalk and he huffed. He fumbled with the lighter and lit back up, pulling at the filter as if he were trying to set his lungs on fire.
Maybe he was. Maybe he wanted to set the hotel on fire, the police station, the entire city.
Jensen tipped his head back and exhaled, sending the smoke to mix with the clouds overhead.
“When did you start smoking again?”
Misha appeared next to him, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other holding a jacket. He was visibly cold, bouncing a bit for warmth even as he settled next to Jensen.
“I don’t know. When did the world implode? Four days ago?” He licked his lip and then took another drag. “Then.”
Misha shook his head sadly and Jensen rolled his eyes.
He flicked the butt into the street and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Put your coat on at least,” Misha suggested, tapping his shoulder with the jacket.
Jensen looked down at it as if he’d never seen anything like it.
“No.”
Misha sighed. “It’s freezing. You’re gonna get sick.”
“So?”
Not wanting to fight, Misha draped the jacket over Jensen’s shoulders and gave him a friendly squeeze.
“Y/N needs you to be strong. You can’t go off and get pneumonia.”
Jensen turned his head and glared; green eyes narrow and angry. “She doesn’t need me to be strong. She needs me to fucking find her.” His jaw clenched so hard he could feel his pulse beat in his temples. “She needs me to save her.”
Heartbroken, Misha closed his eyes and dropped his head. “I know. But there’s nothing you can do right now.”
Jensen scoffed. “Isn’t there?”
“No. The police are-”
Enraged, defeated, hopeless, Jensen spun away, kicking at the snow and pushing Misha’s care away. “The police aren’t doing shit! It’s been four fucking days!”
“I know…”
“They can’t even figure out who took her. The fucking- the security cameras in the parking garage weren’t fucking working! What the fuck good is that!”
The louder Jensen’s voice grew, the smaller Misha felt. There was nothing he could say, no way to comfort his friend.
Jensen wouldn’t be comforted even if Misha knew how. He wanted to rage at the universe. To put his fist through the brick wall behind him. To drive a truck through the Starbucks across the street. To run away from everyone and everything in this godforsaken city and find her. He had to find her.
A snowflake landed on his nose and he batted it away, slapping himself in the face.
He calmed.
His heart ached.
His voice crackled with tears.
“Odds are,” he whispered, “She’s dead already.”
“Don’t say that.” Misha choked back his own pain and cleared his throat. “The detective said there’s no reason to assume-”
Jensen laughed bitterly. “Forty-eight hours, isn’t that what they say? If you don’t find them in the first forty-eight hours you’re not going to. Or they turn up dead on the side of the road or in a shallow grave behind some psycho’s house.”
“Jensen…”
Green eyes closed to the world.
He was trembling, shaking from the cold and the pain of uncertainty and loss.
“I just…I don’t know what to do.”
They stood there in silence, letting January seep into their bones. There was nothing to say, nothing either of them could do.
It just was what it was.
And it was impossible.
A deep shiver moved through Jensen’s body and he shoved his arms through the jacket sleeves, thankful that Misha was looking out for him and the little things. He was too shattered to care about staying alive. Not right now.
He turned back to his friend and the revolving doors, deciding it was time to go back in and shake away the cold.
Flashing lights pulled his attention to the street and he held his breath as the police car turned into the hotel lot. The world moved in slow motion as the car parked in the nearby handicapped spot and Detective Lassiter hopped out. He held a clear bag in his thick fist and his countenance was heavy. He looked at Jensen and shook his head.
Jensen’s universe cracked. He bit his tongue, needing to feel the pain to keep himself conscious as the detective explained what had happened.
“They’re not asking for a ransom,” he said, speech rushed and emotionless. “Not yet, anyway. But this- this is good.” He handed the bag to Jensen.
Y/N’s diamond engagement ring glistened in the dim gray light.
Jensen closed his fist around it. The platinum prongs dug into his palm. “How?” His voice broke. “How is this good?”
“Means they want something. They’re not just going to kill her and be done. This is the kidnappers opening a line of communication.”
Jensen couldn’t hear him, couldn’t follow his words any longer. His fist tightened and the diamond cut through the thin evidence bag. He squeezed until it hurt, until his skin broke, until he could feel the warm trickle of blood.
A drop fell from his fist and painted the freshly fallen snow.
It was hard to stay awake, hard to think.
The pain was still there, but she couldn’t feel it much anymore. It didn’t feel as intense, as if she were getting used to the constant stabbing and shredding of her insides that accompanied every breath she took.
She couldn’t feel the cold anymore either. Her flesh had simply become part of the concrete, all of her warmth had been drained into the darkness.
In and out of the dreamless sleep of unconsciousness, she lay on the dirty floor, barely able to think let alone move.
“Why you?” she whispered, watching burgundy flannel pace back and forth by the steps.
Dean stopped short, his boots making a dull thud on the floor.
“What?”
She lifted her head, cringed at the hurt that erupted in her shoulder.
“I said, why is it you?”
His forehead creased and he shrugged. “I don’t know. Who else would it be?”
Y/N rubbed her right eye. It was dry and it hurt to blink. She was dehydrated and starving; her body was failing, her mind was slipping.
“It’s just odd, I guess.”
Dean sat on the bottom step, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don’t think it’s that weird. You need someone to talk to, you need someone to help. I’m pretty good at that shit.”
Y/N sighed. “But you don’t exist. I’m just talking to myself.”
“Does it matter?”
“Not really.”
“There should have been way more demon Dean.”
Jensen laughed and shot her a look that would have knocked her over had she not already been sitting down.
The couch cushion between them seemed as wide as an ocean, but neither were ready to swim across.
“You like bad boys, huh?” He licked his lips and watched hers as she answered.
“I guess everybody does at some point,” she said. “But there was something special about Dean as a demon. It was like… he was finally free for a little while. Like he was on vacation. Just hanging out and getting laid-”
Jensen grinned. “And murdering innocent people.”
She dipped her chin and looked up at him flirtatiously. “Is anyone ever truly innocent, Jensen?”
His smile faded and he stared harder. His lips parted slowly. “Are you?”
She blinked, painted lashes fanning over enchanting eyes. “I can be when I need to be.”
Her hand slid across the space between them and she bit her lip, daring him to match her move, begging him to meet her halfway.
He dropped his hand to the cushion, fingers landing a breath away from hers.
“What about right now?” he asked, leaning close.
She could feel the heat pushing off of him, smell the lingering scent of his faded cologne.
“Honestly?” she smirked.
He nodded. “Always.”
Y/N leaned in dangerously close. “I’m not feeling too innocent right now.”
A tentative kiss. The first taste of his lips; the first feel of her skin.
There were footsteps above her head. Someone running; heavy shoes falling on old wooden planks.
Y/N lay on her back and stared up at nothing. There were long beams above her and she wondered what it would take for them to come crashing down and crush her to death.
It wasn’t that she wanted to die, she’d never want that, but she knew it was happening. She could feel her body giving up. Her skin was hot but she shivered. Her blood had dried but the wounds wouldn’t stay closed. Her thoughts were fuzzy and shadows played tricks on her.
She couldn’t tell how long it had been since they’d tossed her down the steps; didn’t know how far from help she was. Time meant nothing. It could have been hours, a month, a week mostly likely. There was no way for her to guess. No windows to help count the sunsets, no ticking clock to pace her breaths to.
Sometimes, she counted her heartbeats just to have something to do, but they were unsteady. Too fast at times and then far too slow. It scared her to pay attention to the erratic pulse of her blood, so she tried to ignore it.
Mostly, she remembered things.
Mostly, she remembered him.
In moments when the pain overwhelmed her and her eyes refused to stop leaking, she would pull up his face, try to remember the placement of every freckle, count each thick eyelash. She could still feel his hands on her skin, smell his breath first thing in the morning. She could taste the salt on his neck after a workout, hear his delicate whispers in the heat of night. But his eyes were fading away. She couldn’t get the shade right in her mind; couldn’t remember what shirt made them darker, what time of day they looked the lightest.
The green was washing away.
Last winter. A break in filming. Sand beneath their feet; ocean breeze filling their lungs.
The sun was so bright it hurt her eyes, but she refused to close them, unwilling to miss one single second of time with him.
He was already burning in the sun; his shoulders tanning, his chest turning red. Every now and then, he’d take off and run into the water, dip below the perfect blue horizon and cool off. She loved those moments the best, when he came back to her dripping and laughing, his hair wet and slicked back behind his jet-fin ears.
He’d always come back to her, always fall down over her, hold himself up on his big arms and let the ocean water dribble down onto her bare stomach. He’d block the sun for a few precious moments, and all she could see was the halo around him and the love in his eyes.
“Y/N…”
She couldn’t open her eyes. They felt so heavy, so dry. It was all so pointless.
“Y/N, wake up, sweetheart.”
Dean was hovering again, crouched down at her side. His giant hand was hovering over her forehead as if checking her temperature like a mother would for her child.
“Don’t- don’t call me that,” she croaked. Her eyes fluttered open and she was met with his worried smile.
“What should I call you then?”
“A cab.”
He laughed softly. “You’re still funny. That’s good.”
“Is it?”
She tried to sit up but her spine felt like gelatin. She tried to speak but her throat was ripped to shreds. She tried to cry but her eyes were dry and nothing came out. Her shoulders shook and she moaned pitifully.
Dean’s jaw clenched, dimples popped above his lip. “You gotta get out of here. You’re not doin’ so well.”
Y/N curled in on herself, knees and shoulders meeting somewhere in the middle. “Go away.”
“No.”
She covered her face.
He shifted onto his knees. “You gotta get up and find a way out.”
“There is no way out. We’ve looked a hundred times.”
He exhaled hard, frustrated and desperate. “You gotta try again. You gotta get out.”
Her eyes fell closed again, her breathing slowed. “He’ll find me. He’ll save me…”
Y/N was still confused when the elevator door opened. Jensen had refused to tell her where they were going or why they were dressed like they were being photographed for GQ.
‘Wear that purple dress,’ he’d said on the phone with no explanation why.
Her hand clasped in his, they stepped out into a large empty ballroom. Floor to ceiling windows looked out on a gray morning; the L.A. smog was thick and hung like rain clouds in the sky.
Jensen led her deep into the room and turned to face her. He was nervous, she could tell. His chewed his bottom lip, rubbed his thumb over her hand quickly, breathed a little too fast.
She laughed gently. “What’s going on?”
He took a big, calming breath.
He licked his lips and smiled.
“Eighteen months ago, we were both here for that HBO after party. You wore this purple dress and I was wearing…” He looked down at his crisp black button down and charcoal slacks. “Well, this.”
She smiled. “I remember. It was the first time we met.”
He swallowed hard and held her hand in both of his. His palms were damp.
“But what you don’t know is that I saw you the very second you walked in.” He bit the corner of his mouth and took a second to collect his racing thoughts. “I was over there by the window talking to Eric and you walked in… It was like the crowd opened up for you. Every head turned; the music stopped.”
“I don’t think it was that much of an entrance,” she laughed.
“It was for me.”
Her heart raced.
“Jen, what’s going on?”
He smiled and bent down to kiss her lips. He held her face in his hands, ran his thumbs lightly over her cheeks. She kissed him back, licking at his plump lips.
“I wanted to do that the moment I saw you,” he whispered.
Her eyes fluttered open and all she saw was green.
“And this…”
He let her go and dropped down onto one knee.
He took her hand.
She held her breath.
“Marry me, Y/N…”
“I need you to calm down.”
Detective Lassiter was tucked behind his messy desk, his beer gut smushed against the edge.
Jensen refused to relax. He paced in front of the man’s desk, his hands rushing through his hair; fists beating at the stale air.
“I can’t fucking calm down, OK!” His face was red and his jaw hurt from holding his tongue for so long. “You people can’t do shit, you know that? It’s been six fucking days.”
“Mr. Ackles, please-”
“No. No. No.” He turned to the detective and slammed his hands down on the desk. He leaned in, close to growling. “You need to save her.”
The older man sat forward. “We are doing everything we can. They’re working on the emails right now. Still hoping there’s traceable DNA on the ring. We will get these bastards. We will find her.”
Jensen closed his eyes, felt a thousand more tears brewing in his chest. He didn’t know how much longer he could go on without having a complete breakdown. There wasn’t enough bourbon in the world to soothe his soul.
Only one thing would do.
Only Y/N.
He was coughing so badly she was sure he was dying. She could hear him from the kitchen, his wet cough rattling above the sound of the screaming kettle.
She poured the boiling water onto the tea bag and grabbed some Tylenol from the cabinet.
The room was dark but the light from his cell phone guided her across the soft carpet.
“Hey…”
He groaned miserably.
“You feelin’ any better?”
He shook his head. “I feel like death.”
Y/N set the mug of tea down on the nightstand and switched on the lamp.
He cringed at the light and shielded his eyes with a forearm over his face.
“You better not die on me, Ackles. I’ve still got plans for you.”
He smiled and sat up a little bit, reaching for the tea. “You can’t get rid of me this easily. Even if it is your fault.”
She gasped in mock offense. “It is not my fault!”
“You got me sick,” he chuckled and took a sip.
“Yeah. You’re right. It was all part of my master plan to steal the Impala from you.” She pressed her fingertips together and gave him an evil grin. “Everything is falling into place.”
He laughed. It triggered a cough and she took the tea from him as his body shook.
“Oh, god, Jen.” Her brow creased with worry and she pressed a cool hand to his cheek. “You’re burning up, baby. I think we should get you to the doctor.”
Jensen shook his head and grabbed her wrist. He closed his eyes and kissed her palm. “Just stay with me, please.”
She smiled and settled in next to him. “They couldn’t pull me away…”
There was screaming coming from above. The words were muffled but the emotion was clear.
They were coming for her.
Y/N lay face down on the floor, her fingertip tracing a crack in the concrete. She was tired, so tired, and cold again. The air touching her skin hurt, the strands of hair that touched her forehead felt like knives.
Dean was standing at the bottom of the stairs, his body locked in a tense defensive pose. He listened to the shouts, eyes narrowed and ears struggling to understand.
“That’s it,” he huffed, spinning around toward Y/N. “You gotta get up. You gotta go. Now.”
Boots pounded above.
Y/N sighed. “It’s fine. He’s coming for me. Jensen is coming. He’ll save me.”
Dean grit his teeth and knelt down beside her. His voice was deep and firm. “Listen to me. You can still fight. You can get up and fight.”
She laughed. “I can’t. Look at me. I’m… I can’t fight. They’ll kill me.”
“Then you go down swinging. You’re not some damsel in distress, Y/N. Get up and fight!”
Gingerly, she rolled over and looked up at him. “Maybe I am. Maybe I just have to lay here and wait for the cops to show up.” She sighed and closed her eyes, waving him away. “I’m tired, Dean.”
The fight upstairs was growing louder, the boots getting closer to the door.
Dean slammed his palms against the floor by her head, making her jolt awake.
“No one is coming to save you. Get up!”
Navy uniforms blurred in his vision. People rushed past the big window, but he stayed put, frozen in the chair beside Lassiter’s desk.
Jensen was in shock; tired and lost. He had barely heard the detective when he explained the situation.
They’d tracked down the kidnappers. The S.W.A.T. team was on their way. Just a few more hours and Y/N would be home.
He just had to wait.
Finally, Dean got her to stand. Her legs were shaky, but her head was clearing. She knew what had to be done.
Behind the staircase was an old, rusted tool box. Inside it, a hammer.
She gripped the wooden handle tight.
Dean urged her to stand in the shadows beside the staircase. He held her gaze, reassuring her every second that she could do this. She could fight her way out. She could run.
The boots above stopped. The kitchen light turned on, illuminating the seams around the door at the top of the stairs.
Y/N steadied her breathing. She bent her knees, planting herself on the spot.
The door creaked loudly as it was pulled open.
Her hand trembled.
Dean nodded reassuringly. “You got this.”
Heavy footsteps bounded down the stairs and a large man appeared, gun in hand.
Y/N’s blood was racing, adrenaline coursing through every cell.
The man turned to the right and Y/N leapt from the left. She lunged forward, swinging the hammer with every bit of strength she had.
She missed his head, striking him in the forearm.
The gun fell.
She pulled her arms back and the claw of the hammer dug into the flesh beneath the man’s chin. He screamed and doubled over, taking the old tool with him.
Y/N stared down at him, eyes wide with shock and terror.
“Now!” Dean clapped his hands, stealing her attention back. “Run!”
She could still feel the warmth of the lights on her face; hear the cheers from the crowd.
Jensen pulled her close and kissed a trail down to her lips. He kissed her forehead, her nose, the top of each cheek. By the time he met her lips, she was laughing into him, so warm, so happy.
His arms folded around her, his beard tickled her cheeks.
She clung to his shirt and sighed.
“I won’t be long,” he whispered. “Just gotta go smile for a thousand photos or so.”
She groaned. “I don’t wanna let go.”
He laughed and squeezed her tight. “Me either.”
The kitchen was bright, the lights burned her eyes. She stumbled into a chair and hit her foot against the island.
Dean was there every step, calling her name, leading her through the worst pain she’d ever experienced.
“You can do this,” he shouted, urging her to move faster. “Just a little farther. Come on!”
She pumped her arms, dodged the sparse furniture in the living room, raced for the front door.
It was locked, bolted and chained.
“Almost there, kid. Almost there.”
She focused hard, willing her fingers to cooperate.
The man shouted from the basement, loud and angry. Dean looked back over his shoulder, and flinched.
“You gotta hurry, Y/N-”
The chain was the hardest part. Her fingers were numb and tingling; she slipped more than once.
Boots thudded on linoleum.
“Come on!”
She wrenched the door open and tumbled out into the cold night air. The moon was full and bright, the sky clear and inky black.
She took a breath and steadied herself; bare feet sinking into the snowy lawn.
Dean was across the street already, silently urging her on with a waving hand and desperate expression.
Flashing lights pulled her gaze away and she smiled. They’d found her.
Sirens blared.
She took a step toward the street.
Dean shouted her name.
She smiled.
A shot rang out and her world fell into darkness.
Jensen collapsed.
His knees hit the ground first, then his hands. His palms scraped against the gravel but the sting was irrelevant.
Someone was touching him, grabbing at his shoulders, trying to help him up, but he shouted and pushed them away. He didn’t want help. He didn’t need comfort. He didn’t want anything.
His chest burned, his heart raged against his ribcage. The earth beneath him opened up, shattered like his soul.
“Jensen…”
He looked up into his own dark eyes. Eyes he’d seen in the mirror for years. Eyes that he’d cried with, laughed with, died with a thousand times.
Dean sighed. A single tear slid down his cheek.
“I’m sorry.”
Jensen closed his eyes and Dean faded into nothingness, swept away by the freezing January wind.
“Keep her safe, Dean,” he whispered. “Stay with her.”
“Always.”
2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)
@alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05
#spn fanfic#supernatural fanfiction#jensen ackles x reader#dean winchester x reader#angst#save me p2
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“driving me crazy”
eddie roundtree x fem!reader
you and eddie have never gotten along. is it because you hate each other, or is it because you’re both to proud to admit something?
enemies to lovers😏😏 also idk how long this is bc tumblr doesn’t have a word count smh but it is longer than my other stuff
warning: making out at the end (spoiler lol), suggestive
part 2
EDDIE: Y/n, man. That woman is no joke. We hated each other, at least for a while.
Y/N: He was always such an ass to me. Eddie, I mean. I really hated him. (pause) Until I didn’t.
The burning hatred Eddie felt for you started the day you auditioned for the band. Chuck had just left for school, and Eddie wanted to move from rhythm guitar to bass.
Like always, Billy shut down his request and decided to let people audition for the position. In his words, he wanted someone to “earn it.”
Eddie was already irritated from seeing Billy act like the previous performances were better than what he could do, so you can imagine how he felt when one actually was.
The last audition of the day. You strode up the driveway, big sunglasses over your eyes, sporting jeans and a tight tank top, but definitely not a smile.
Eddie just knew. There was no way he was getting that spot. Your playing didn’t even shock him. Of course, it was fantastic. Just great.
After that, it was all cold stares and angry glares. He wanted to make it very clear that he didn’t like you. He made a considerable effort to stay out of your way. He wouldn’t speak to you, look at you, or even think about you. Well, he tried very hard not to.
One night, a few weeks after your admission, you fell into step with him as he walked home after a rehearsal that ran long. He was moderately surprised by this and figured you would go away if he just ignored you.
You didn’t. You pulled out a cigarette and placed it between your lips. “Have a light?” you asked.
He furrowed his brows, trying to figure out what you were doing. After a moment, he nodded, pulled out his lighter, and lit your cigarette.
“Thanks,” you said. “So, is there any reason why you hate being around me?”
He was so taken aback that he stopped walking. “Sorry?”
You looked at him from over your sunglasses. It made him sort of angry that you were wearing them at nine p.m. when it was pitch black.
“You gonna answer the question?”
“Yes, there are many reasons.” Bullshit. There was only one and, honestly, it wasn’t a very solid one.
You said nothing and walked back up to him, removing the cigarette from your mouth and putting it out on his denim jacket, burning the material.
Eddie was more bewildered than mad when you pushed the glasses to the top of your head and smiled at him like you’d just done him a very nice favor. He never noticed your eye color before then, or how it looked in the moonlight.
“By the way, that jacket really reminds me of Billy.”
Okay, now he knew he was mad. He struggled to come up with a comeback and just moved his mouth in a stupid way that made you laugh when you left him standing there.
EDDIE: She knew exactly what she was doing. She’s always been good at that, making me mad on purpose.
Y/N: It was really funny. He doesn’t think so, but I was laughing about that for days.
The two of you continued throwing insults at each other for the months leading up to LA. Eddie’s favorite thing to do was comment on every mistake you made, much to everyone’s dismay.
He was just jealous of your abilities and, deep down, he admired them. You always knew just what to say back to him, adding unnecessary fuel to the fire.
More than once Billy had to yell at you to stop fighting. You both would resort to sending each other hateful looks and crude hand gestures for the rest of practice.
Driving to California was the real hell. Being cooped up in that van with Eddie for that long made you restless.
If it weren’t for Camila holding you back, there would’ve been several times where you launched yourself at him.
It was so nice to have another girl around. Camila was a good mediator for the two of you. You missed that when you went on tour.
Karen also knew how to break up a fight, but sometimes she would let you hash it out for the fun of it. Not like you minded, she probably knew how much fun you had while messing with Eddie.
Soon enough, things went downhill. Camila had the baby, which was good. Julia was such a sweet baby. Billy went to rehab, which was also good, for him and his family, but bad for the band.
The tour was canceled. A lot of money was lost. It was not a very fun time.
You sympathized with Billy. He had been going through a lot, and you understood how hard it was for somebody to recover from that level of drug abuse. Addiction was a gene that seemed to run in your family, with your mother being absent for most of your life and your father having to pick up the pieces.
Billy and Camila were the only people who knew about it. You didn’t think the others needed to know when none of them could relate to your situation.
Eddie didn’t understand. He went on and on about how bad of a guy Billy was. It made you furious the way he implied that Camila should leave him.
The rest of your fights were petty compared to the one you had on the day Billy got out of rehab. Eddie started complaining about Billy’s nerve or something along those lines. You flipped out. You told him he had no idea what he was talking about and stormed out of the room.
That shut him up. He stared blankly at the door you just walked out of and thanked God that it had only been the two of you in the room before.
He was relieved that no one else heard what he said because realized he was being childish. Even though he hated Billy he should still be proud of what he overcame.
He rushed out of the room to find you locked in the bathroom. He knocked once, twice, three times before a sharp, “What?” came from the other side of the door.
“Y/n, come out and let me talk to you.”
He heard your muffled scoff. “You’ve said enough.”
“I want to apologize.”
He couldn’t see it, but your eyebrows rose involuntarily. You undid the lock and opened the door. Your arms were folded over your chest as you nodded at him. “Keep going.”
“I’m sorry I said all that crap about Billy. It’s been a rough time for him. For all of us,” he said, sounding genuine.
This was shocking to you. He had never apologized to you for anything he said, even if it happened to be cruel and borderline disrespectful. He had this vulnerable look on his face that made you feel like you could tell him things.
“I’m not just upset about Billy,” you admitted. “This whole thing just reminds me of my life growing up. You don’t know this about me, but my mom was not the best at, well, being a mom. Unlike Billy, family wasn’t enough to pull her out.”
You weren’t sure what he was going to say. Then, he said nothing and pulled you close to his chest. His arms were around your shoulders, and you hesitated to hug him back.
He smelled of pine, and you couldn’t stop yourself from inhaling his scent. You stayed like that for a few minutes, until you heard the front door open and sprang apart.
Warren and Graham announced their arrival, and Eddie cleared his throat before joining them in the kitchen. Now it was you who stood alone in bewilderment.
EDDIE: This girl that hated me was trusting me with something, and I didn’t even know why. That was the first time I saw her for the woman she was, and not for the competition she used to be. As it turns out, I didn’t really hate that woman.
After that debacle, things were kind of weird between you and Eddie. He would still act like a dick, but in a different way.
Instead of, “Wow, could you be any worse at this?” he would say, “Wow, could you look any hotter right now?” He used the same douchebag tone for each, but his comments became flirtatious as time went on.
You usually had a witty retort to fire back at him, but there were some times that his words left you flustered and unable to think properly.
Karen noticed this first, giving you a questioning look from the other side of the studio. You waved her off and rolled your eyes at the thought of Eddie seriously flirting with you.
Warren and Graham caught on next, teasing him about it whenever they got the chance. He denied all allegations of being into you.
You refused to acknowledge Camila’s allegations either. The dynamic you shared with him now was different, but you kind of liked it. You would never admit it though, wanting to keep up the illusion that you still hated his guts.
Eddie walked into the kitchen and grabbed a muffin from the table you sat at. “Morning, smokeshow.” He smirked as he looked back at you from over his shoulder while crossing the room to the fridge.
“Shut up, Eddie,” you said with a mouth full of cereal. Shamefully, you felt heat climb into your cheeks.
He snickered as he sat down across from you. “Really? That’s all you got?”
You swallowed your food and glared at him. “Give me a break. It’s eight in the morning.”
He gave you his signature smile before flipping through the magazine on the table. Karen walked into the kitchen and sent you a knowing look once she saw you and Eddie being civil.
She made her own breakfast, and took Eddie’s seat when he left. “So, anything interesting happen recently?”
“Besides having a hit single, not much. I do really like that Daisy girl, though.”
Karen stared at you blankly. “You know what I’m talking about.”
You placed your fingers to your temples and closed your eyes. “I sense something brewing between Karen Karen and Graham the Man. Nothing else between any other band members, so it would be pointless to ask.”
She laughed. “I sense nothing of the sort. I’m letting Camila deal with you. I just can’t anymore.”
Y/N: Looking back on it, we were pretty insufferable.
With Billy and Daisy writing songs by themselves, you and the others had some time to kill. Karen and Graham were off at the beach while you hung back with Warren and Eddie.
They really loved Rollerball. Either that or they were really high. You were willing to bet on the latter.
By the third showing, you didn’t fail to notice how close Eddie had gotten to you. His arm brushed against yours, and he leaned his head close to yours.
You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, moving away from him and bringing your arm off of the armrest.
He frowned and folded his arms over his chest. Both of you knew something just happened, but refused to acknowledge it. The tension in the air was thick.
Once back at the house, you went to your room immediately. You planned on calling Camila and bothering her with questions about what all these shenanigans with Eddie mean.
What you didn’t expect was Eddie following you into your room and closing the door behind him.
You glanced up from the phone. “What are you doing? Get out, I’m busy.”
The phone rang twice before Camila picked up. “What are we?” Eddie asked. You hung up before she could get a word out.
“What are you talking about?”
He looked more annoyed than he did angry, but the tone of his voice suggested otherwise. “Well, one second you’re rubbing up against me in a movie theater and the other you’re acting all pissed about it.”
You physically cringed. “‘Rubbing up against you?’ That is not what happened.”
“Then what about all those times you tell me I’m hot, huh?”
“You’re the one who initiates that!” you said exasperatedly. “All I do is respond. If you’re trying to insinuate that I flirt with you, then that’s all you.”
He marched up to you until he was mere feet away. “You’re so hot and cold that it drives me insane. Do you want me or not?”
Your eyes narrowed. “Pretty bold of you to assume I would want you.”
He made a wild gesture with his hands and ran one over his face. “You’re exhausting. You make me so mad, and I hate that I like you.”
“Shut up, you don’t like me. We hate each other.”
“Oh, my God, you don’t get it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “I think about you. All the time. When I see a stupid joke in a magazine, I think of you. When I hear a John Denver song, I think of you. You drive me fucking crazy, Y/n! People who hate each other don’t think about each other like this, don’t act like this. I like you, for God’s sake.”
You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You listen to John Denver?”
“That’s all you have to say?” He tried sounding angry but he was laughing too.
“I thought you were a rockstar.” You mocked him by holding up two ‘rock on’ hand signs.
“You don’t even care about the sentiment.” He rolled his eyes.
“Be quiet.” You were smiling when you kissed him, cupping his face while his arms snaked around your back.
You tangled both hands in his hair as he deepened the kiss by tilting his head and letting his tongue enter your mouth.
Your fingers messed up his hair before moving down to tug on his shirt collar, pulling him impossibly close.
He tapped your thigh and pulled his lips from yours to whisper, “Jump.”
You complied. He held onto your back with one hand as the other gripped your thigh while your legs wrapped around his waist.
Your hands came back up to rake through his hair, tugging it softly. He continued kissing you feverishly as he made his way to your bed. He almost dropped you when he lowered your body to it.
He climbed onto the bed and hovered over you, kissing down your neck while you gripped his shirt.
“It’s quiet,” Karen said, sitting on the couch, no longer hearing the near screaming match happening in your bedroom.
“Too quiet,” Graham agreed. Warren stood up and pressed his ear to the door, his mouth dropping open.
“Guys, I think they’re boning in there.”
“Warren, please refrain from saying ‘boning.’”
#eddie roundtree#eddie loving#eddie roundtree x reader#eddie loving x reader#daisy jones and the six#daisy jones x reader#daisy jones#djats#daisy jones & the six#daisy jones fanfiction#daisy jones fanfic#dj&ts#eddie roundtree fanfiction#eddie roundtree fanfic#birdiewriteslit#birdiewritesfics
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sweet like you🍓pt. 2
pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader
summary: carmen helps you out with perfecting your pastries to present them to your boss. you spend time getting to know each other in the place he knows best; the kitchen. things take a slight turn when you get back to your apartment.
word count: 3.1K
PART 1
notes: I really enjoy writing carmen tbh, I guess writing him is my way to giving his character some peace outside of his usually extremely stressful life. this got suuuper long im so sorry sdfgshj i got kinda carried away.
let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content!
warnings: mentions of suicide/death, addiction, use of alcohol, cursing
Carmen hated nights.
At least during the day, he was forced to do things, be productive, talk to people, keep his mind occupied. But at night, it was just him. Alone with his thoughts. The only thing keeping him company his cynical mind and deranged dreams.
That night was no different.
Carmen woke up in a cold sweat, hand clutching at his chest as he sat up. He nearly gasped for air, and upon noticing how shaky he was, got up to splash his face with cold water. That didn’t help much either, so he went to his balcony (if one could even call it that), and lit a cigarette. The sun was already coming up, and he knew he wasn’t getting much sleep again feeling like this.
He sighed, smoke emitting from his nose as he pulled out his phone. You’d replied already, even given a time. Reading your words made him feel slightly more at ease, slightly more... Real. A reminder of his obligations to the people around him, but also, and he’d never admit this, something to look forward to.
[carmen]: absolutely, see you then
Your next shift went by smoothly, as per usual. The French themed café you worked at had become such a big part of your life, not that you minded, you were in love with it. And as much as she’d deny it, you could tell the owner had taken a liking to you. You heard from the barista that most waitresses would get fired within a month or so, but you’d stuck around for three now.
“She said you have a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’... I think you remind her of her younger self.” Your colleague said while pouring out a cup of coffee.
“Right,” you took a tray and readied another order. “You sure you didn’t imagine that? I don’t remember Odette ever saying something nice to me before.”
“Not to your face, no.” She grinned, putting the cup on your tray. “I’m sure you’ll get her to put some of your stuff on the menu, she just has to warm up to it.”
“Yeah, just,” you grabbed the tray, balancing it with ease. “Give me a few decades to work her through that.” You both chuckled as you walked off to continue your work.
Carmen stood across the street, looking through the window of the café. Shit, he was way too early, and that wasn’t even usually like him. He’d left the Beef over to Sydney while he was gone, telling her he had something important to take care of. And although that wasn’t entirely untrue, he wasn’t sure she’d agree if she found out he was hanging out at some café.
He slipped into the place rather sneakily, deciding that if he was gonna have to wait, he might as well do it in there. It had been a while since he’d been inside, usually just to get a quick coffee or something, and he’d never paid much attention to the décor before. He was kind of impressed, despite being smack dab in the middle of Chicago, the café had a true Parisian feel too it. Sure, he’d never been to Paris, but he could imagine this was pretty close.
He sat down at a booth near a window and stared outside. He felt a bit uneasy just... waiting. There were so many things he still had to do, so many debts to pay off, things to consider, to change--
“Carmen? Is that you?”
Your voice snapped him out his train of thoughts, it almost felt like a ray of sunshine breaking through a dark cloud. He turned and saw you holding a menu, dressed in a cute dress and an apron.
“Yeah, I uh... Got here a bit too early, my bad.” He gave an apologetic, halfhearted smile.
“It’s no worries,” you handed him the menu. “You can just enjoy a coffee or something while you wait! What would you like?” You pulled out a notepad and a pen.
“Oh, uh... Christ...” His eyes squinted as he scanned the laminated menu. “Am I goin’ crazy or is this all in French?”
“Nope,” You chuckled. “It is. When I told you the menu hadn’t changed, I meant really, nothing has changed.”
“Fuck, alright, uhm... Just a regular coffee then.” He handed the menu back. “Please.”
“Comin’ right up!” You chirped, and he watched you make your merry way back into the kitchen. He could’ve sworn you damn near floated by how excited you seemed. He didn’t really understand it. You worked a waitress job where you weren’t allowed to change anything, you had to work early on Saturdays to help your family out and he could have guessed you probably still had time to maintain a healthy social life. It almost annoyed him how well balanced you seemed.
But someone as cute as you couldn’t possibly annoy him.
He received his coffee not long after, thanking you and admiring the porcelain for a moment. The more he noticed about this place, the more... Uneasy he felt. He didn’t realize why, and he kept mulling it over until long after he’d finished his drink.
Ah.
Because the Beef looked like a garbage dump compared to this.
And he owned that garbage dump.
He hated himself a little for comparing the two, they weren’t comparable at all besides both serving food and drinks, but the fact that you were only two blocks away didn’t help. And he was about to be helping you too, his competition.
The crew would kill him if they knew where he was at.
You worked on closing up, cleaning a few last cups and arranging them neatly before walking back to Carmen’s table. “Hope you enjoyed your coffee my good sir, but I must request you to join me in the kitchen, for I have prepared a mighty array of desserts for thou.” You grinned.
“Alright, alright, I get it.” He got up, ready to follow. “Don’t I gotta pay for that coffee?”
“S’on the house. Come on, we’ve got pastries to try!”
The kitchen closely resembled the rest of the establishment, although much more homely. It was small, doable, but just a little cramped.
You pulled out two stools for the two of you to sit on, before going to the fridge and taking out a tray. “Alright, so...” You put it down on the counter. “Here we’ve got classic cheesecake with a cinnamon cookie crust,” you pointed at each dessert, “a cream strawberry tart, and last but not least,” your fingers fluttered in a ‘jazz hands’ way, “tiramisu topped with fresh strawberries.”
Carmen scanned the tray before him. The presentation was immaculate, but he found that often with these types of desserts the looks were better than the taste. He hoped that wasn’t the case.
You sat across him, more nervous than you initially expected to be, as he tried each of the desserts. He had some notes about each one, as expected, you were just an amateur cook, but you could tell his eyes lit up a little when he tried the tiramisu.
“Mm,” He hummed, putting his spoon back in for another bite. “Shit, that’s fire chef...”
“Chef?” You raised an eyebrow. No one had ever called you that before.
“Sorry,” He swallowed, “Freudian slip, my bad.”
You chuckled. “No, no, I don’t mind... The tiramisu is a family recipe, actually. My nana used to make it all the time.” A nostalgic smile graced your face.
“Those are usually the best.” He thinks back at the food him and Mikey used to make when they were younger, and somehow, it makes the tiramisu taste even better. “So, anything else you wanna add?”
“Oh!” You were a little caught off guard by his question. “Uhm, well... Now that you mention it, I’d love to add macarons, to play into the French theme of the café. I’ve just never been able to get them right, and trust me, I’ve tried.”
Carmen puts away the empty glass cup. “Do you want me to teach you?”
“Huh?” You were sure you misunderstood at first, but the look he gave you was telling you he was at least expecting an answer. “Uh... Sure, yeah! I’d love to! I think we still have all the ingredients here from my last attempt too.”
“Great.” He got up, clasping his hands together. “Let’s get to bakin’, chef.”
The two of you stood next to each other at the counter. His jacket was off, now replaced with a baby pink frilly apron, supposedly the only one you had. You’d been relatively quiet, mostly focusing on taking his advice and following instructions. But as he was sifting almond powder, and you were beating egg whites, he had this strange urge to fill the silence. It was weird, usually he preferred working quietly, but it was almost strange to hear you not talking when you were there.
“So... You’re not from Chicago, are you?” He kept his eyes on the sifter.
You grinned, still whisking away. “What gave it away?”
“You smile a lot,” he took the bowl from you and held it upside down to check the consistency of the egg whites, “and I haven’t seen you light a single cigarette.” He put the bowl back and started weighing off some sugar. “So either you’re not from here, or I want whatever drugs you’re taking.”
You chuckled at his remark, finding his self deprecating humor quite amusing. “No, you’re right. I grew up on my parents’ farm, though it’s not too far from here, I never really came close to the city. Moved here about three months ago, so I haven’t explored much.” You took the sugar from him and gradually started adding it to the egg whites. “What about you? Born and raised?”
“What gave it away?” He joked back. “Born, raised, moved away for culinary school, worked in New York, now I’m back.” He sighed. Being back in Chicago was... Strange. Because after not having seen his brother for literal years, he was now constantly confronted with everything that reminded him of Mikey. Including his business.
“Interesting.” You started working together the mixture, sneaking glances at his face every now and then to gage his reaction. “So... What brought you back?”
A longer silence followed your question, and you could tell his hands even stopped moving for a moment. Suddenly he seemed tense, and you worried if your question had struck a cord.
He swallowed, eyes fixated on the ingredients before him. “My brother.”
“Oh! Well, I’m sure he’s happy to see you back.” You offered a kind smile.
“Yeah, I uh... I’m not sure he would be.” He glanced at you, eyes quickly darting back to the vanilla extract he was measuring out, uncomfortable with eye contact when he talked about Mikey. “He died.” His eyebrow twitched slightly. “Suicide.”
You stop whisking for a moment to look at him, and you can tell his face had reddened. You feel awful for pressing him on such a sensitive subject, but you had no idea.
The two of you continue to prepare the batter in complete silence for a good minute. Both of you feel bad. Him, for dumping this information on you, and you, for even asking about it.
“I’m sorry,” you speak up, filling up a piping bag with batter, “I had no idea.”
“S’okay,” He runs his hand through his hair, a nervous tic, almost. “I’ve been trying to talk more about it. Especially since I kinda run his business now.”
“Well, if it counts for anything,” You give him another sweet smile, and this time, it does actually make him feel a little better. Silently, he wished they could put the feeling your smiles gave in pills, so he could take those instead. “I think he’d be proud of you.”
He doesn’t reply. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t know if he agrees. He doesn’t know what Mikey would think, and from what he’s heard from Richie, he’s not even sure if he would recognize the person his brother had become through his addiction. But the possibility is there, and you reminding him of it was enough. For now, at least.
He noticed you struggling with the piping bag and got behind you, hands sneaking over yours to help you hold it correctly. “There we go.”
Carmen doesn’t seem to notice how close he is to you. Or how warm your face had gotten. Or how the way he smelled was distracting you from listening to what he was saying. Cigarettes, coffee and sandalwood... A strange, but not unappealing mix of scents.
You turn your head just a slight bit and catch a glimpse of his blue eyes. They were so bright, piercing almost, but they held such a profound sadness behind them. You wondered what else they held, what other stories he struggled to talk about.
Carmen noticed you weren’t watching what you were doing and looked up, accidentally meeting your eyes now. And then he realized how close he was, cheeks growing flushed like a teenage boy as he let go of your hands and took a step back, clearing his throat. “Shit, uh... My bad.”
You chuckled nervously. “It’s fine, I appreciate the help.” You leaned down to preheat the oven.
“Yeah… Anytime.”
A while after, the two of you were presented with perfect, pink tinted macarons. You smile proudly, hands on your hips as you admire the final product in front of you. “Man, we really nailed those, huh?”
Carmen smiles, a little sleepily. It was starting to get dark outside and he hadn’t even had dinner yet, but he felt bad about having to interrupt your baking session. Usually when he was in the kitchen he was focused, collected, he was making a product that he had to be proud of. But he’d been open to you, he’d laughed, he almost felt… Relaxed. Maybe that’s why he was feeling sleepy.
That, or the insane lack of sleep was catching up to him once more.
You looked outside and noticed that the sun was going down. “Shit, how long have we been here?” You checked the time on your phone. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, I had no idea it already got this late... Uh, if you want I’ll drive you home?”
“Yeah, that would be--” His sentence got cut off by the sound of his stomach growling loudly. The two of you stayed quiet for a moment as Carmen put a hand over his abdomen, clearing his throat, a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I uh... I haven’t eaten anything today besides those desserts earlier.”
Now you really felt guilty. Not only had you kept him at the café for way longer than you should have, but you were nearly making the poor guy starve. “Tell ya what,” You handed him his jacket and took off your apron. “How ‘bout you come back to my apartment and I’ll make us both dinner. I’m no expert chef like you, but I can cook a mean pasta!”
He hesitated for a moment. He hadn’t been to someone else’s apartment in so long, let alone someone he was interested in. But he supposed it was better than being alone in his apartment again, probably heating up a shitty frozen meal because he was too tired to cook.
Your apartment was nice. Well, nicer than his at least, although that probably didn’t mean much. For only having lived there for three months, he could tell you’d really added your own touch to the place.
“Welcome to mi casa!” You playfully bowed, allowing him to enter and closing the door behind you two. You tossed your keys onto the counter and took off your coat, ready to get to cooking. “You can settle on the couch, put something on, I got Netflix if you want. I’ll have dinner made in just a sec!”
Carmen moved with caution. This was... Unknown territory. He knew you were probably just being friendly, but this was a pretty big step for him. He had his boundaries, his walls firmly set, and you were jumping over them like it was nothing. It was just... Easier with you, somehow. To open up, to talk.
Not long after he’d chosen something to watch, you arrived with two deep plates of pesto pasta with mozzarella and diced tomatoes. “There we go, I always make this when I don’t feel like cooking.” You handed him a plate and a fork, before settling down next to him. Your couch wasn’t that big, so your shoulders were touching the entire time.
The two of you were watching a cooking competition, something you didn’t realize would revitalize Carmen so much. Not because he liked it so much, but because he was so focused on the mistakes the contestants were making, and felt the need to point every single one of them out to you. Your two plates stood empty on the coffee table, along with a bottle of red wine and two, very empty glasses.
“Now, see this,” he pointed at the TV, “can’t believe they’re even allowed to air this, this is a disgrace to cooking. The fuckin’ idiot hasn’t touched a single spice this entire episode!”
The both of you were both kind of tipsy, and you were leaning against him now, smiling to yourself as you tried to withhold laughter from every serious comment he made.
“And now--” He looked at you and realized you were hanging on for dear life not to break out in giggles. “What’s so funny?” He asked with a grin.
“N-Nothing, nothing!” You chuckled, leaning away from him so he wouldn’t see your expression.
“Ah, so now we’re shy!” He poked your side, the wine doing wonders for his confidence. “Come on, let’s hear those laughs then!” He continued poking you, and you couldn’t take it anymore, the ticklish sensation making you squirm. You grabbed his arm and pulled it away from your abdomen, making him fall forward onto the couch. He caught himself, hand resting on the armrest, now leaning over you.
You looked up at him, and god, maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but you swore he’d never looked hotter. Leaned over you, curls framing his face, strong arms surrounding you. His gorgeous blue eyes staring down into yours, tension growing between the two of you.
So you couldn’t help yourself.
You leaned up, capturing his lips in yours, a hand coming up to rest on the back of his head to pull him in further.
He froze, eyes only fluttering shut after a few seconds, melting into the kiss as his hand came down to rest on your waist. His mind ran blank, nothing plaguing his mind anymore, all besides one thought;
“Damn. She tastes even sweeter than those strawberries.”
tag list <3
@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar @spr3id @deadandstill
#aster writes the bear#carmenmath#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto fic#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto the bear#the bear#the bear fic#the bear imagine#jeremy allen white#jeremy allen white imagine
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title -> tocarte
genre -> mafia!au + smut
pair -> mafia!skz x gn!reader
plot -> a day in the life of (y/n) dealing with their 8 lovers.
warnings -> explicit sexual content (minors dni!) + blood + explicit drug use + smoking
lowercase intended
valiente o gallina
a gun pointed right at me would've been a scarier experience if this guy knew what he was getting himself into. from behind i could see a shadow walking and i knew that figure too well so i decided to walk away and take my chances on this idiot who even dared try and attack me.
"looks like we're done here." the shadow with the deep voice said and fired his gun to the imbecile from earlier. felix wiped away the blood that splashed around in his clothes and looked at me, looking for any signs of terror in my face but there was none. "you got too used to this kind of life huh?" he asked as he lit up his cigarette and i just shrugged.
"i don't really care anymore, what can i say?" i said honestly as i looked at him, his freckles shining in the moonlight. he was tired but didn't seem to show it with his attitude but i knew him all too well. i leaned in as he dropped his cig to the dusty pavement. he grabbed my chin and planted a kiss on my lips as i savoured the smokiness and the bitter taste that he had.
la bolsa o la vida
as soon as i got there, they were coming back. bags of cash dropping on the table as they completed another successful deal with the other "business". jeongin dropped down next to me as his hand found it's way to my legs and squeezed my thigh. i just bit my lip 'cause he was so careless when he wanted something from me but did not give a shit if we were in public or not.
"god did i miss you." he whispered in my ear as soon as he got close to me. i decided to sit on his lap even if there was plenty of space in our couch. "wow when did my babe get so bold?" he said as i let his hands travel around my waist.
"taught from the best i guess." i said and laughed as i could tell he was impatient. evidence was found when i could feel his hard on poking at me as i let out a moan that didn't catch anyone's attention in the room except his which is the only i wanted. this was gonna be a long night.
picar medicina
"slow down baby." he said but i didn't. i went all in as i grabbed my card and piled the line up to go right through my nose. a nosebleed surely popped and made it's way down to stain the carpet, dripping red and i just laughed as everything was suddenly blurry and i felt so dizzy. "god you're insane but i love you." hyunjin said as he wiped away the blood and laid me down in his lap.
"you're so pretty jinnie, i want a taste of you." i said and he just laughed as he looked at me dearly, with those caring eyes of his. i knew i was just his the moment he looked at me that way. "jinnie i can't feel my face." i said as i touched my cheeks where he would place a kiss and the sensation would go right through my whole body as i tried to compose myself, it was just a kiss.
"it will pass, don't worry baby." he said, his hands tangling themselves in my hair as he removed some of the locks from my face and then i would feel his lips on mine. the only thing i could feel right at that moment was love.
chupar golosina
"stop doing that, i need to concentrate." jisung exclaimed but i wouldn't listen. i had found a lollipop and i was gonna use it for evil and he was the easiest to tease. i would twirl it around my tongue to then suck it all up again slowly and then rapidly. making the most obscene noises while at it but never losing my eyes that were meeting him (and his bulge forming in his pants).
"sungie please." i said as my hand traveled to my heated core but that's when i felt him stop me as he got up and put my hands behind my back. he actually did attach them with his work tie and laughed at me as i pleaded with my eyes and pouted.
"don't give me those eyes baby and make yourself useful." he said as his hand went to his belt and then his zipper, making me bite my lip and wait as my knees got easily bruised in the carpet. "look at you, gonna take your punishment so well baby."
perder la partida
the concentration on his face was something that i loved. he was in pure game mode and i just saw how the guys around the table were looking for a solution to not lose the last match but nothing was going through their brains. i just smiled knowing he was victorious again 'cause if there was something that turned me on was seeing him with that winner smile on his face.
"my lucky charm." changbin said to me as he kissed me in front of everyone and laid down his cards. just as i predicted, he was on top once again and the rest of the guys just looked in disbelief. "now get the fuck out of my house." he said with a little smile as he pointed at the door.
as soon as everyone was out, i was on top of him once again and he squeezed me like i was gonna get out of his grip but in reality there was nowhere else i'd rather be. my legs tangling themselves in his waist as he lifted me up and pinned me against the wall. a long lasting kiss that i wish would never end.
beber tu saliva
"on your knees now." minho muttered as he left all his papers aside and his smirk started to grow on his face as he saw how obedient i was all of the sudden. "good girl/boy." he chuckled and looked at me, i must've looked pathetic just how he liked it.
"what do i do now, mister?" i fired back but not in a mocking way, he loved that nickname way too much. no shame though 'cause i loved making him feel good and if it meant indulging myself into his kinky world then so be it. he signaled something with his fingers, it was for me to look at him in the eye and not the floor anymore. as i did, he whispered.
"open your mouth baby." i followed the instructions and heard a noise coming from him, spit fell into my mouth and down my chin as well. "swallow now love." he said and i swallowed the saliva and wiped my chin to then lick it. "god you're a travesty baby."
jugarme la vida
i sat him down as if he didn't have one of the biggest wounds i've ever had to tend. everything was calm, the silence was comforting and it didn't feel odd to be digging through this much blood. i silently took care of him as i grabbed the bandages from the drawer and slowly wrapped his arm up as i couldn't stop looking at him shirtless. he got so big since i first met him, no doubt hitting up the gym more than he used to.
"you're looking again." he said firmly and i just nodded at his words, completely lost in his body and then his face as he got close to mine and closed the gap between us. he bit my lip and i let out an embarrassing moan that i could not believe escaped me. "you're so easy but i think i like that." seungmin said.
"the easiest one for you if that's what you like." i mumbled as i laid my head down on his shoulder. he just smiled, meeting me for another kiss that i would easily give in.
buscarme la ruina
at the end of the day i knew he was looking for me. if it wasn't for him i wouldn't be here in the first place and i was grateful he introduced me to this life, as fucked up and not easy as it is, i couldn't ask for better company. my hands tied behind my back as i entered his office, a red bow adorning them. my clothes drastically changed into something a little bit more out there, as if i was ready to be ate by my prey.
"good evening (y/n) shall we begin?" chan said as he got up and i nodded slowly but i knew exactly what he was going to say after i did that. "i wanna hear you baby, speak up." he said standing in front of me as i fell to my knees and responded.
"yes master." and that brought out a smile on his face as he lifted up my chin and made me look at him. all i could see in his eyes was my reflection and the desire that was bursting within him to have me his way.
i couldn't be in a better place.
#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#stray kids drabbles#skz au#skz aus#skz smut#skz x reader#skz drabbles#skz scenarios#stray kids x reader#stray kids scenarios#skz songfics#sourbinnie#skz mafia au#skz short imagines#scenarios stray kids
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I Feel Like You’re Gonna’ Regret Askin’ That, Princess
Johnny Silverhand x Fem V
Johnny is left high and dry after his drive-in movie date with Rogue. Once V gets control over her body back, all she can feel is the frustration Johnny is left with. So she offers him her assistance.
*cross posted on AO3*
NSFW below cut
I hated coming out of the trance-like state I was forced into whenever Johnny had my body. I rubbed my eyes a few times before zipping up my jacket as a cool breeze blew through the abandoned drive in. The movie I had put on for the two had finished, leaving us in a dark lot filled with rusted metal and a few trees peppering the lot. I looked around, my eyes landing on Johnny sitting on the hood of one of the cars, he was uncharacteristically quiet. I felt unsettled, and fidgety, as though my skin felt too tight for my body. I walked over to the car he was perched on and leaned against the hood. “Rogue leave?”
“Do you see her anywhere?” His voice was heavier than usual, and dripped in sarcasm.
“Guess she not a post sex cuddler?” I smiled, hoping that would get something outta’ him.
“Didn’t fuck” He was stoic, there was a cigarette between his metal fingers but it wasn’t lit and it seemed he had no intentions of doing anything with it.
“What happened?”
“What the fuck do you think happened! I know you’re not some gonk so put two and two together and figure out what the hell happened.”
“Johnny you’re gonna’ have to give me more than that.” I looked over my shoulder at him.
“Got rejected.” My eyebrows raised but I knew he wasn’t looking at me to see it. Who in their right mind would reject Johnny?
“That really blows choom, anything I can do to help?” As the offer left my lips I could feel myself start to get wet, and I knew he could feel it too. I watched as his flesh hand came up to rub his neck and then pull his aviators down his nose so he was looking over the red lenses at me.
“Don’t know, what’re you offering?” There was a hint of a smirk playing across his lip before I looked away in an attempt to hide the flush that was making its way to my cheeks.
“I can feel everything you can and it’s getting uncomfortable. So either we can help each other out or I can go find some doll.” Before he could answer he glitched off the hood of the car and reappeared in front of me, glasses gone. His organic hand grabbed the back of the short faded green hair, balling it up and pulling my face to look at him.
“Well you know my feelings towards dolls, so I guess there’s only one option.” He pulls my face towards his, a sneer painted across his lips as a surprised sound manages to get past my lips. His metal hand unzips my Samurai jacket before sliding against my hip that was exposed from the body suit I had chosen to wear paired with my low riding cargo pants. “I hate this sorry excuse for a shirt. Drives me nuts anytime you wear it.” He dully scratched against my skin making between my legs throb.
“You think I don’t know that?” The hand in my hair tightened and pulled my head back.
“So you’re tellin’ me that we could’ve been fucking this whole time and you didn’t bring it up til’ now?” I smiled as I felt his warm breath against my extended neck, his lips were dragging against my skin and making me feel like I was being hacked by Maelstrum cuz’ my body was on fire.
“Guess so, what’re you gonna do about it Rockerboy?” Finally his mouth was on me. His sharp canines dug into my neck, sure to have drawn blood. He sucked a dark hickey onto the same spot before pulling away.
“Feel like you’re gonna’ regret asking that, Princess.” The hand from my hair let go and both hands moved to my hips, lifting me up onto the hood of the car with Johnny now between my thighs. His hand came up to my neck and pushed me onto my back before releasing me once more. Before I had a second to question what he was going to do next I heard the rip of fabric followed by the chill along my bare chest. I shot up and glared at him.
“The fuck Johnny! That was exp-“ His hand was over my mouth, shutting me up before I could complain anymore.
“You don’t question me, got it?” I nodded, maintaining a pleading gaze hoping it would get me what I had been craving for much longer then I’m willing to admit. “Your body is mine and I’ll do with it as I please.” His gaze shifted from my own down to my chest for a fraction of a second before meeting mine once more. “You gonna’ be good?” I nodded, feeling my nipples perk from a mixture of the cool air and his eyes. He moved his hand from my mouth and slid both hands over my bare chest. One of his metal fingers slipped into my nipple ring as if it were nothing and pulled sharply upwards, I couldn’t help but whine as he pulled on it more. “Never pinned you for the type to get their tit pierced.”
“Never pinned you for the type to take your time.”
“Yea well I’ve never felt this frustrated.” He leaned over me, his mouth leaving wet kisses moving from just below my belly button up to my right tit and then over to my left, pulling at the piercing with his teeth. I sat up very slowly, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He continued the line of kisses up my neck, onto my chin and finally on my lips.
In an instant I tried to take back some sort of control. I tangled my fingers in his hair and pulled him as close as he could get. I slid down the hood of the car until I could feel the bulge in his leather pants against my own clothed crotch. We were a mess of tongue, teeth and lips and I couldn’t get enough. Every time he tried to pull away I tightened my grip, using my cybernetics to give me just a bit more strength than him to keep him where I wanted. He spoke against my lips ending my fun,
“Enough” I grumbled before completely releasing my grip so he could pull away, wiping his mouth on the back of his flesh hand. “You’re a greedy little slut aren’t ya” I smiled,
“Just been wanting it long enough.”
“Is that so?” As he spoke his hands began to work on my belt, pulling it loose quick enough. “Could’ve spoken up sooner”
“How the fuck do you expect me to bring that up? Want me to just casually mention as I’m gunning down scavs ’oh hey johnny we should totally fuck after this’?” He unbuttoned my cargo pants but stopped again.
“Think I would’ve said no?” I looked away from him, not liking how this turned from dirty to now digging into my insecurities. “You’re a hot piece of ass who knows her way around a gun, who’d say no to that?”
“Just thought it might make things weird, seeing as you’re taking over my body and all.” I felt my pants slip down my ass until my skin met with the very cold metal. Clearly he was done discussing anything because I could feel his flesh hand gently rub along my trimmed pubic hair exposed by the torn fabric.
“Is that supposed to be a lightning bolt?” I propped myself up on my elbows and bent my knees so I was holding myself up against the front bumper on the car.
“Kinda’ forgot I did that…”
“Cute.” I never expected those words to leave Johnny Silverhand’s mouth without being drenched in sarcasm. He leaned in close to my pussy and before I could process it he sunk his tongue inside me.
“Hol- fuck!” He flicked his gaze up to me and I could feel him smile against me. As he began to suck on my clit ruthlessly I felt two of his metal fingers slide inside me. The wet slapping sounds filled the empty lot accompanied only by my breathy curses making me feel closer to a joy toy then a merc. He organic hand scratched down my thigh before applying just a touch of pressure onto the top of my clit, spiking my heart rate and tightening the burning knot that was growing in my loins. “Christ Johnny shit s-stop” He paused his tongue and fingers, but didn’t pull anything away. Our eyes met as I tried my best to pull myself together enough to actually form a sentence. “Want you” was about all I could manage. He thrust his fingers in one final time before pulling them out, but before he stood up he tongue fucked me one last time. I watched as he licked his lips.
“What exactly do you want, V?” I sat up, letting myself slide down the hood of the car until I was standing in front of him. I grabbed him by the belt, pulled him closer before unbuckling his belt and pants.
“I need to see this cock you keep bragging about? Wanna’ see if it lives up to the hype.” He scoffs, pulling my chin up to look at him before kissing me. This time it wasn’t as carnal as before, something about the lack of teeth and hair pulling made it feel almost passionate. I unzipped his pants as we kissed and reached in to feel his warmth, warmth that never really made sense to me seeing as he’s a construct. I pulled back, breaking the kiss before sinking down to my knees, taking his pants with.
All I could do was stare. I didn’t want to validate him by complimenting it, but I knew he was staring down at me with that stupid smirk because he knew exactly what I was thinking. “Now Princess, don’t beat yourself up if you can’t take it all.” His voice was laced with such a degrading tone.
“I’ve seen bigger” I lied through my teeth, and we both knew it.
“How about you quit your lying and show me what else that pretty little mouth of yours can do.” His metal hand knotted its way into my roots and guided me towards his head.
I teasingly sucked on just the tip, making sure to drag my tongue along the engorged head. I encircled my hand around the base just to keep me stable on the balls of my feet. His hand in my hair pushed me deeper, I relaxed my throat as much as I could as he continued to push me further and further down. My tongue ran along the series of four piercings that graced the underside of his cock. Before I knew it I had my nose nestled against his thick black curls and I moved my hand to hold onto his ass. “Damn, I did not expect that. Does little miss V have more experience then she lets on?” His voice was more gruff then usual,I looked up at him, giving him the best pleading eyes that I could muster. “Can’t wait to fuck you so hard you can hardly ride your damn bike” I pulled almost all the way off his cock and just as he was about the start talking I took a deep breath through my nose and deep throated him in one motion.
“Fuckin Christ!” Both his hands gripped the back of my head and held me there for a second, when I felt them weaken just slightly I did it again. Over and over I took him into my throat, relishing at the grunts I could hear each time. As I got into a rhythm, and my gag reflex was completely gone Johnny pulled me off, a thin line of saliva connecting me to his cock. “Jesus V” I looked up at him innocently. “Don’t gimme’ that. You’re way more of a slut then I expected, y’know that?” I smiled up at him, waiting for him to make the next move. “Stand up”
I ran my tongue along the underside of his cock one final time, revelling in the way the barbells of his piercings were so cold despite the heat of his skin. “Up” he spat out through clenched teeth, I stood up and tried to hold back a smile when I noticed how flush his cheeks were. He wrapped his metal hand around my neck and pushed me back on the hood of the car. He grabbed what little fabric was left from my bodysuit and ripped it in two, giving him the most access. “I really liked this outfit.” He smirked up at me,
“Yea, but I think it’s better like this.” He pulled my forgotten pants over my combat boots and tossed them on the ground next to him before pulling my legs onto his shoulders. He nudged his cock against my throbbing pussy, letting it slide over my wet lips a few times watching me intently.
“Just fuck me already” he shook his head, contiuning to rub himself against me in the most teasing way possible.
“I think you can ask me nicer than that, don’t you?”
“If you’re not gonna’ fuck me, I’ll just give River a call and see if he’s up for the ta-” Before I could finish the sentence he sheathed himself fully inside me, a moan pushed past my lips as a groan came from him.
“River couldn’t eat you out like I did, he ain’t got shit on me and you fuckin’ know it.” His metal hand came from my neck up to grab my cheeks, forcing me to look him in the eyes as he fucked me much slower then I wanted. I could feel the bumps of his Jacob’s ladder every time he pulled out. Admittedly his cock reaches deeper than I’d ever had before, every thrust grazed against my G-spot purposely never touching it.
“You’re being an ass.” I managed to squeak out, knowing I didn’t sound nearly as intimidating as I could have in any other situation.
“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” He pulled out until only his head was inside, bringing both hands to my tits, kneading and tweaking my nipples.
“You know I want more than that, but you refuse to give me anything.” I sat up on my elbows, my legs still on his shoulders. He sneered at me, knowing he was getting to me. “I want you to bend me in half and fuck me until it hurts, but you just won’t.”
“Maybe if you ask nicely I might.” He pulled my thighs against him, dragging me down to sink deeper on his cock. He bent over until my thighs were pressed against my tits, pressing our foreheads together. “Tell me you love my cock.” He roughly kissed me before the words could leave my lips “Tell me River could never fuck you as good as I am.”
“But…”
“If you don’t say it, I’ll delta the fuck outta’ here and you can finish yourself off.” He punctuated his sentence with a few thrusts here and there, to really emphasize his point. I bit down on my lip, turning my head away so he couldn’t see my cheeks flush.
“Who knows, you’ve hardly fucked me. At least River gave me what I wanted” I knew that would piss him off but I couldn’t resist.
“I was there V, I know he didn’t give you what you really wanted” He glitched away completely, my legs falling down to hit the front bumper of the car hard enough to leave bruises. The breeze felt icy against my exposed and wet core as I looked around frantically for him.
“Are you fuckin’ kidding me Johnny!” I stood up, dipping a finger into my pussy to feel just how wet I was. “Come the fuck on man!” I looked down at myself, my tits hanging out and what little of the body suit that was still in one piece was riding up my ass as I walked to where my pants were thrown. I pulled my Samurai jacket off for a second, tossing it on the car before stepping out of the destroyed top and pulling my pants back on over my boots. I grabbed the jacket again, pulling it on and zipping it up over my bare chest. “I should’ve guessed he’d pull some shit like this.” I grabbed the torn fabric, thinking maybe I could stitch it up at some point before walking towards the parked Porsche.
I pulled the driver side door open, hearing the door creak loudly at my force. I got in, hitting my head against the head rest a few times in pure sexual frustration. “Fuck Johnny and his fuckin cock.” I breathed out, making no move to close the door or drive away. My core was knotted and felt like it was burning a hole through my skin, and no matter how I sat it wasn’t enough friction. I unzipped my jacket just enough to look down at my abused tits, covered in bruises that I half expected to disappear along with him. I huffed out a sigh, I can’t believe he got me to do this. “River could hardly keep a decent pace, his sex was too gentle and his...fuck Johnny....his cock wasn’t as impressive as your’s.” I waited for a second, expecting him to glitch in front of me, cock out and ready to fuck me senseless. I looked around, waited a few more seconds before angrily slamming my door and starting the car.
SLAM
“Get the fuck out of the car!” He banged on the window with his metal arm, his glasses were back on as well as all of his clothes. He pulled the door open, grabbed the back of my hair and roughly pulled from the car. He slammed the door closed behind me, pushing me against it. His mouth was on mine before I had much time to process what was going on, his hands unzipping my jacket again, throwing it off my shoulders into the dirt before pushing my pants down just past my ass. “That was a sorry excuse for what I asked, you’re just lucky I’m thinking with my cock tonight.” I reached down, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants open. I used both hands to push the tight pants down enough for me to wrap my hand around his cock, finally getting a chance to fondle his piercings as I rubbed him.
“Johnny I want your fat cock, please.” I pleaded, meeting at his hidden gaze.
“You want it?” I shook my head, tightening my grip on it.
“No, I need it.” He smiled against my lips.
“Who am I to deny a need.” he purred as he bit my lower lip. He pulled me over to the hood of the Porsche, pushing me over the curved headlight and grabbing my arms behind me. He was buried deep inside me before I could ask for it again. He plowed into me roughly, leaning over me so I could feel his breath on the back of my neck and the kevlar of his vest. I could feel the all too familiar pull in my lower stomach, it started as a tingle then grew until I was bucking against him begging for more. I knew he was getting closer as his pace stuttered, no longer rhythmic, closer to carnal. He licked a line from the middle of my back up my spine until he bit the base of my neck. “Imagine if someone drove by right now, saw you gettin’ fucked by nothin’.” He pulled me up by my hair, still plowing into me. His hands had an iron grip on my tits, my head lolled to the side as a string of slurred words attempting to be a sentence fell from my lips. “Come on baby, just let go” my mind went blank when his hand slipped down my belly and ever so lightly ghosted over my clit.
As the wave crashed over me, I fell from his grasp onto the car moaning and bucking. It took me a few seconds to come down before I realized he was leaning over the hood of the car, one hand bracing himself, the other forming a vice grip around the base of his cock. “Christ, does it always feel like that?” His words came out as laboured as mine would have, if I were able to form any. I simply nodded, my body bucking still against nothing.
“You...you felt that?” My voice came out horse, he looked at me through his mussed hair and nodded. “Thought there was a delay between us.”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Princess.” Once my legs no longer felt like warm wax I pushed myself up from the car and turned to him. His metal hand was still around his junk while the other grabbed my shoulder and pushed me to my knees. Without much thought I took all of it into my throat with little regard for my gag reflex, tasting myself all over him. I reached up to pull his hand away, before resting mine on his thigh. “Can’t wait to see you fuckin’ painted” I attempted to process his words but before I could really connect the dots, he pulled my head back, fingered my mouth open and grunted out a tight fuck.
I guess I had never thought about what being covered in a construct’s jizz would feel like, but this felt way more real then I would have expected. My tongue darted out to get a taste of some that was dripping down my chin before I looked up at him. He grabbed my cheeks, manipulating my cheeks so he could get a better look at me. “Fuck look at you ” He stared down at me, rubbing is flesh hand along his beard making sure to never forget my cum covered face. He stepped away from me, pulling his pants back to his hips, he reached in the Porsche and grabbed the forgotten fabric that once was an article of clothing. He walked back over to me, reaching his hand out to me. I took it and stood up, feeling my knees protest slightly. He gently rubbed the shirt over my face, thumbing one drop and holding it to my lips to take, I opened my lips so I could greedily lick it off getting a tired groan from him.
I pulled my pants back up into place, my legs still a touch weak. I grabbed my jacket from the ground, dusted it off before throwing it back on and zipping it half way. I sat in the driver’s seat about to close the door when he glitched in front, leaning forward. I closed the gap and kissed him, when we pulled away we both smiled “Remind me to thank Rogue next time I see her.” my voice sounded way louder then it should have. He faded away before reappearing in the passenger seat next to me.
“Let’s just get home, gotta’ make up for lost time.” His hand glitched onto my thigh as I started driving down the empty road.
#cyberpunk 2077#johnny silverhand x v#johnny silverhand#cyberpunk 2077 fics#cyberpunk 2077 smut#ao3 author
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Arms Warm Like A Cigarette
Fandom: Resident Evil.
Category: F/M.
Relationship: Chris Redfield x Female Reader.
Type: One shot.
Words: 3,080.
Summary: Minutes before the start of the most important mission of his life, Chris is left alone with [Y/N], and tension rises as they confess to each other the unspeakable truth.
Chronology: Resident Evil 8.
~~~~~~~~~~
"... Goddammit, when does it end?"
"What's that, sir? The mission?"
"All of it. Three years, trying to put this thing in the ground. Three years too long."
The rain was pouring hard outside the car as I looked out the window. The forest surrounded us, making me feel trapped in its immensity just by looking at it, adding to the confined feeling I sensed creeping up on me as I sat idly in my seat. Everything was quiet inside, contrasting with the loudly roaring weather; but still not loud enough to cover all my thoughts.
"Captain-"
"It's gonna be fine." He cut me off before I could speak further.
He tried concealing it as best as he could, but the bitterness in his voice still came through, as he was still processing the bad news he had just received. And yet, he knew I was tense, he knew how I was feeling deep down, despite the silence. I was scared. I did not want to go out there, scared that our mission would end in failure, fearing for the worst to happen. And the weather was not helping my case. If anything, it made me want to stay inside even more.
I heard the sound of fire crackling to my side and as I turned my head to look at him, Chris was putting a freshly lit cigarette on the edge of his lips. His gloved hands held it in between his fingers with delicacy, the cigarette he was moving around bringing light to the otherwise dark interior. He took a puff, before slowly turning his head to look at me, a spark of softness in his eyes.
"It is, [Y/N]. Don't worry." He said lowly, weighing each of his words to try and reassure me.
I looked down at my lap and at my arsenal around my waist, and on my chest, and all around me.
"I know... I'm fine, sir. Thanks for your concern."
I replied to him in a quiet voice, not daring to speak too loud; no matter how much time I spent around him, Chris would always intimidate me, just by looking my way. And this case was no different. The already pre-existing pressure on my shoulders was accentuated by the tension reigning between us. That tension so sharp we could have cut it with a knife; and, fairly, there was more than one reason behind that tension, but I was not sure myself which one was truly predominant. Both Chris and I were tense about the mission, there was no doubt about it; the cigarette he held at the tips of his fingers was enough to prove it. But there was something else. Something deeper. Something both of us were aware of, but neither of us wanted to speak of.
"... Captain, are you scared?"
I spoke out suddenly, breaking the heavy silence as I shyly gave him a quick look. He scoffed lightly before taking another puff of his cigarette, his eyes fixed on the windshield, as if searching for something on the horizon.
"You know, [Y/N], I've been through a lot. I've pretty much seen it all by now." He started, still averting his eyes from me. "And people always assume it makes my job easier, that it makes me immune to what's happening around me... Truth is, even I get scared sometimes."
Although he was not looking at me, I had my eyes aimed right at him, contemplating him passionately, in a way I could not control; deep down, I felt grateful, and even worthy, to hear Chris confess himself to me with so few filters. He had always been a man of few words, not saying more than what was necessary, and was a complete mystery when it came to his emotional state. He never told anyone what was going through his mind, and what his thoughts were. Except me.
After a while of working with him, for him, I had noticed he was getting slightly more relaxed around me, and a little less professional. He was still my Captain, my superior, but it was as if, one day, something had changed inside of him, and his behavior regarding me had shifted. And that included venting to me; on a few occasions, not daily, but still. I could not help but take pride in it, knowing I was the only one he had chosen to ramble to when he needed to, and it always made me wish for more. Our whole squad, especially the members I was closest to knew about it, and always reminded me how lucky I was to have such a privilege. I knew damn well I was lucky, and all I wished for was for my luck not to run out.
"And this is one of those times."
He talked out of the blue, extracting me from my thoughts, and making me blink a few times to put my focus back on him. He was still staring right in front of him, but the spark of kindness that was once there had vanished.
"... Is there anything I can do?" I asked almost in a whisper, leaning my head to try and search for his eyes.
He lowered his gaze at the wheel and took the cigarette out of his mouth; he remained that way for a bit, staying silent and seeming to be lost in thought, after which he turned his entire body to me and stared deeply into my eyes.
"Are you scared?"
I stared back into his eyes for a few seconds, before looking away, unable to hold his gaze.
"I... don't really know." I started while fiddling with my equipment. "I am, I think. But..."
I gathered the courage to look back up and stare once again into his deep blue eyes, feeling a layer of blush appear on my cheeks.
"I'm scared for you, sir." I admitted, sensing the blush intensify.
He closed his eyes and scoffed, giving me a faint smile he did not try to hide.
"Why?" He asked, a slight sense of amusement in his voice.
I held my breath as he stared back at me with eyes glowing with warmth.
"I-"
I sensed a heatwave flowing through my whole body, almost paralyzing me on the spot. It was unimaginable for me to speak my mind. I was unable to tell him the truth. That I cared about him. That there was something deeper than a fellowship between a subordinate and her Captain from my perspective. I had tried fighting it, keeping these thoughts at bay, but as his second-in-command and closest woman of arms, I spent all my days around him, and it never let me enough time to suppress these feelings before I lay my eyes upon him again the next day, letting it all resurface.
And now, with the news that Ethan had died at the hands of Miranda, I feared more than ever for his life.
"I..." I started shakily as I tried articulating a sentence. "I just..."
I looked through the window for a second, observing the falling rain, before defeatedly turning back to Chris, looking into his eyes.
"It's nothing, Captain... Forget it."
He looked at me with intensity, an undecipherable expression on his face, and although I felt a trace of judgment in it, I could not divert my eyes from him; slowly, he brought his cigarette to his mouth, my eyes following his hand before inevitably ending on his lips, which opened just as slowly before closing right back.
"Tell me what's on your mind." He said deeply as he exhaled a cloud of smoke around us.
Having him sit right next to me, his body turned to face mine, his eyes fixed on me with no desire to look away, I felt a sudden shiver going along my back, intensifying the longer I was looking at him. I eventually lowered my gaze to my lap, before staring at him again with a hint of sadness in my eyes.
"Is that an order... sir?"
Taking one last puff on his cigarette, he then crushed it dry into the ashtray, allowing his free hands to rest on his lap. He looked at me with eyes that expressed a multitude of feelings.
"It is." He replied solemnly, a touch of tenderness in his voice.
I had reached my breaking point and could no longer look at him, feeling the emotions starting to overflow inside of me.
"I..." I started, my voice beginning to tremble. "I can't..."
I rapidly lowered my head, looking down as I closed my eyes. I shook my head at a slow pace as I felt I could cry at any moment. Suddenly, I felt the warmth of a hand holding my chin, making me raise my head up. I let the hand guide me and felt my heart nearly skip a beat; Chris was leaning close to me, his eyes seeing no other object of focus than mine, expressing care and affection. He had taken his gloves off beforehand, without even me noticing it, and the touch of his bare hand against my skin made me lose my train of thought.
"It's ok..." He whispered softly.
It was far from being the first time he and I were touching each other, or sitting so close to one another. But this time was different from all the previous times. This time it was just him and I; this time, he offered me the chance to share a moment of intimacy with him, confined in this car that smelled of smoke and rain.
My chin still held by his fingers, his face was only inches away from mine, the same strong passion burning in his eyes.
"You can let it all out." He continued softly.
"No, I can't." I fired back quickly, feeling my words getting trapped in my throat. "... Don't make me do this, sir..."
He squeezed my chin gently, making me look at him despite how much I wanted to look away, to hide my face in case I would start crying, which I sensed was on the verge of happening. We exchanged a long, deep look, and it was as if his eyes, tender and loving were asking mine for permission for something; in a deep inhale, my eyes answered back with approval, and that was all Chris needed.
"Let me do it for you, then."
In the blink of an eye, he swiftly put a hand on his headset and took it off, before setting it to the side; his other hand still on my face, he moved to my cheek and held it tight. Before I could react, his lips were touching mine, kissing me with such passion that it made my limbs weak. The feeling of his beard, thick and rough, scratching gently against my lips started to intoxicate me, taking me places I had never explored before, until the taste of cigarette hit my throat and brought me back to reality; with Chris leaning on me, I unconsciously pressed my hands on his chest, as my brain was telling me it was going too far and that I needed to push him back. But all it did was make him start taking off his equipment, removing his guns and belts, and leaving them on his seat, as he pinned himself harder against me. Following his train of thought, I removed mine as well, stripping off the uncomfortable and cumbersome jacket I had on. With nothing in the way, he held my body tighter as he continued to kiss me, wrapping me whole and making me feel so small under his weight, his arms warm like a cigarette.
"Captain-" I said in a heavy breath in-between two kisses.
He pulled away and took the time to stare into my eyes before reaching for my lips again.
"You can drop the formalities, [Y/N]. Just go by Chris."
I nodded shyly and gulped as his whispers bounced off my skin.
"Yes, sir- Chris."
He chuckled in a low voice against my lips, and I felt myself blushing in embarrassment.
This is going to take some getting used to...
The rain kept on falling around us as Chris pulled away, for good this time. He looked at me with eyes I had never seen in anyone before, eyes that hypnotized me and made my heart weak.
"Sorry for the cigarette breath... I wouldn't have smoked if I had known this would've happened." He apologized while grabbing the back of his neck with one hand.
"It's alright, I didn't mind it." I said with a shy smile while blushing.
He kept on looking at me with tenderness-filled eyes, silent and thoughtful, before bringing me even closer to him, hugging my whole body tightly. I rest my head in the crook of his neck, breathing in his cologne and feeling my ears turn pink as a desire to nuzzle my nose against his skin grew in me. We were both quiet, letting the sound of the rain take over, accompanying the sound of our breaths.
"Is this not too irresponsible of us, Chris?" I asked him, breaking the silence, stuttering slightly at his name. "I mean... Letting ourselves go in such a way, in the middle of such an important mission..."
He remained silent as I pressed my hands against his chest tenderly, tracing circles and all sorts of shapes on the fabric of his turtleneck.
"You took off your headset... and your guns... What if the rest of the team tries getting in contact with you, and they see the line falls dead? What if we suddenly need to head out and don't have enough time to grab our equipment?"
Chris felt the legitimate concern in my voice and put both of his hands over my head, holding it close to him.
"You don't have to worry. I'll call the shots, I'll be the one telling the others when we're starting, but for now, there's no movement in sight. Besides, with rain this heavy, we better wait until it calms down a bit before going out."
I listened to his voice, as deep as the forest, comforting me and warming my core up, as I listened to the sound of his heartbeat, slow and steady. For a moment, nothing else other than him surrounded me; all I could see, all I could think about was him, holding me in his arms as both of us remained in silence. After a short while, he adjusted himself on my seat and found a more comfortable lying position.
"Are you still scared?" He asked me gently, though in a low voice.
"No." I replied in a whisper. "... Thank you."
He exhaled as if to express relief.
"I'm still scared for you, but I know you're going to be fine."
"We both are." He added while squeezing me lightly.
He let go of me a little and looked down at me.
"You know, [Y/N], I didn't do this just to make you feel better and reassure you. I needed it too." He spoke in a soft, heavy voice. "Whether it's right, or wrong, I want you by my side. Not just at work, but all the time."
He looked down from me with saddened eyes, his expression shifting.
"I'd been keeping it inside of me for a long time, and, well... I didn't think now would be the time it would come out. It was inappropriate of me to jump at you in such a situation... I should have held back, I'm sorry."
I stared at him softly, still too moved by his words to express facial emotions clearly.
"Now is as good as any other time." I told him with a smile.
I started fiddling with my hands as I too looked down.
"I'm glad you did it. And I'm glad you told me. I... have been bottling some things up myself. I... couldn't see myself telling you what I was feeling... I thought it was improper and I was afraid you'd think it'd be disrespectful of me, and that I would lose you for it."
Chris looked up and into my eyes, before leaving his gaze to slowly wander all around my face.
He won't say it, because he's got too much pride, but he doesn't need to use words to make me understand he loves me. His eyes say it all.
He held the side of my cheek with one hand before leaving one last kiss on my lips. I cherished it, savored it, knowing it was the last one I would get until quite some time. After having pulled away, Chris looked out the window and searched the horizon; his face had regained its usual seriousness.
"The rain has calmed down, we're gonna be clear to go." He declared.
"Alright." I answered with a nod.
He turned to face me again, but seemed hesitant.
"[Y/N]... are you... ok, keeping us a secret, until this whole thing quiets down? I don't want the squad snooping around our business or asking any intrusive questions..."
I widened my eyes at his question, having not expected such a request, but a part of me was not surprised: it fitted his character well to be of the most secretive kind, a man of few words who wanted his private life to stay that way.
"Yes, sir." I replied solemnly.
He suppressed a scoff as he backed away, getting back on his seat.
"Good. And thank you, [Y/N]."
He put his headset back on, then buckled his equipment again around his chest, and slid his fingers back inside his gloves.
"Now c'mon, gear up." He told me, not too softly, but not too roughly at the same time.
I followed his lead and did the same, putting my jacket back on and readying my weapons. I took a deep breath in and looked down at my hands; I tried repeating to myself every word Chris had told me, every touch he had given me, and once confident enough, I reached for the car door handle.
"[Y/N]." Chris suddenly spoke up, interrupting my movement.
I turned my head to him, my hand still on the handle, and met with his deep blue eyes.
"You're gonna be alright. I'm here." He said in a caring voice.
I smiled at him lovingly as we both opened our doors in unison.
"I know."
#chris redfield#chris redfield x reader#chris redfield x you#chris redfield fanfiction#chris redfield fanfictions#chris redfield one shot#chris redfield one shots#chris redfield imagine#chris redfield imagines#resident evil#resident evil fanfiction#resident evil fanfictions#resident evil one shot#resident evil one shots#resident evil imagine#resident evil imagines#re#female reader#perplexedflower
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How they react to you getting hurt 🥲 | IB headcanon
Link to my IB masterlist
Requested 📨 yes/no
Content warnings: injury, blood, war, profanity, light angst.
Being part of the Basterds & getting injured would look like:
Getting injured was not something you planned, but in war it is bound to happen eventually. It could happen when y’all were ambushed, on recon, or something simple as moving place to place.
Whether it be a small graze, a split lip, or a possible fatal wound the Basterds are losing their mind. It would be utter chaos in the tent with Wicki having to kick them all out, besides Alsdo, so he could work with a clear mind. If it was a small injury that could be fixed with some bandages and alcohol then he’d be like “you lot are so dramatic. Just calm down they’re going to be fine.” But if it was serious then the last thing the man needed was panic around him, “if you all can’t shut the fuck up then get out! I need to concentrate before they bleed out!” Wicki cared deeply for you and felt responsible. He’d be dammed if you died on his watch.
Aldo would remain calm but internally was on high alert. You were one if the best Basterds and quite literally the glue that kept them together. In a shitshow of a world you still managed to smile, brining a level of hope and optimism to the squad. Seeing you in pain pulled at his heartstrings. Best believe he would stop at nothing to avenge you if worst comes to worst.
Donny would be in the same boat as Aldo, but would be more visibly anxious and pacing back and forth until he got an update. Like Aldo he’d set the world on fire to avenge you if you died. Donny is the bastard who’d try to make you laugh when you’re recovering which would only make the pain worse. “Oh sorry, I forgot you’re hurting there.”
Hugo is scary. Bottom line he is not talking, he is barely moving. It would not be until he knew you’d be okay that he would visibly relax. If the person who hurt you was still breathing Hugo would be silently plotting. The bastard would be the type to sneak out of camp and track the person himself. God forbid you died because you were the one thing keeping him grounded (platonically) so if he lost you….well pray for those who come in his way.
The younger basterds are losing their minds. Scared shirtless the only thing their minds go to is the worst. Smitty is holding back tears, Omar is biting his nails. They’d be camping outside the tent to hear what was going on and would fall on their asses when Aldo or Wicki were to suddenly come out. “Are they gonna be okay!?” They shout simultaneously, anxious at the sight of blood on Wicki. When the older man lit a cigarette and mumbled, “They’re gonna be fine. They just need to rest,” they all dropped to the floor in relief.
It would pain the basterds to have to send you home if the injury you sustained put you out of the line of duty. This wold be if you lost a limb or were in need of more medical attention than they could offer, such as losing your sight or part of your hearing. Aldo would be the one to escort you to allied territory to hand you over, the ride solemn and silent. “I’m sorry, boss,” you softly said., “I’m sorry I let you down.” “Kid, you’re alive. That’s all that matters and don’t you fuckin’ forget it. I’d rather be takin’ ya back breathin’ than in a casket.”
If your injury was not fatal and a quick fix, expect a small lecture from Aldo. He wouldn’t be upset with you per say, but just angry that it happened. Again, you are someone he cares about. All the Basterds do. So when shit like that happens it scares them and never did they wanna deal with having to bury someone they cared about. He would, however, scold you if the reason you got hurt was because you did something stupid or went against his orders. “L/n, I will warn you this one time. You pull that shit again and I’ll have your ass on the next truck back to base. Understood?”
At the end of the day the boys are just happy you’re okay. It was a close call but thankfully you survived and Wicki was the one with the brains to help you recover. They may have shit their pants and nearly went into cardiac arrest, but the basterds wouldn’t be losing their sunshine anytime soon.
#inglorious basterds#inglourious basterds headcanons#inglorious basterds imagine#inglorious basterds x reader#aldo raine x reader#aldo raine headcanon#donny donowitz imagine#donny donowitz x reader#donny donowitz#Donny donowitz headcanon#wilhelm wicki headcanon#wilhelm wicki imagine#wilhelm wicki#wilhelm wicki x reader#hugo stiglitz imagine#hugo stiglitz#Hugo Stiglitz headcanon#smithson utivich
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🕯️ push and shove ⛓️
so. i have decided to write for a crackship that wouldn’t leave me alone... you guys are welcome to join in of course, but i’m mostly doing this for myself lol.��no plot or anything really, just being mistreated by these two for nearly 2k haha
NSFW | Word Count: 1,752 | Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader x Rusty Nail
contains polyamory/hinge poly, GN penetration, fingering, possessive dirty talk, shotgunning, dacryphilia, nipple play, pain play, marking, bo puts his cigarette out on you lmao
The air felt sucked from the space in between them, almost like dogs baring teeth at each other as they kept staking claim of your body, your own hands unsure of whose to settle on. One move too much in favor of one could set the whole place on fire, but you grinned at the thought of them losing their minds over the prospect of not getting to have all of you to themselves.
Even that was bound to start something, and sure enough Bo stopped looking at where his hands were grazing your sides to catch that look on your face.
“What’re you laughin’ for?”
In the dark, it was hard to tell who was grabbing where. Recognizing the hot metal of Bo’s ring from the fingers clawing around your sides, hungry for marks just as they were to feel your skin prickle under them, then the thick callouses along Rusty’s palm that the other man just didn’t have. You bit your lip, knowing trying to hide the pleasure resonating from the attention coupled with the utter closeness was a losing game. Still, Bo leaned in, hand trailing up to wrap around the side of your neck, keeping you faced towards him. “That’s right, pretty. You look at me.”
Another chuckle behind you, patting your thigh as it slid there. “Look at [him/her/them]? Look at you, takin’ the reigns." Rusty pointed out, "You know what you’re doing?”
“Shut your mouth, had my share of this – just’s much as you.” He cocked his chin in his direction, the tight sneer looking ready to spit. “What? We havin’ ourselves a pissing match, Rusty?” Bo grinned with more edge to it than any jest he could pull from himself. His eyes fell back, downcast to your body again as he jeered at you, “Tell him, [Y/N]. Say how good I make you cum.”
“Y-You make me cum so hard, Bo. I-“ You hiccupped as teeth grazed the sensitive spot in the crook of your neck, Rusty’s nicotine scented breath tracing the back of your ear, “Does he now? Make you howl like I do?”
Unable to answer to that without falling apart, you just giggled again, tipping your head up to the ceiling despite still having a hand holding you steady. It only made Bo’s fingers curl around the side of your neck, sending another shiver through your body.
“Now what’s so funny?” Rusty asked, barely able to see your expression but feeling the way your face had twinged against him. You hummed, “Nothing I can say without making you two mad.”
“That it? You wanna see us mad?” Bo murmured, and without a warning his other hand found its way to your [pussy/cock], [fingers easily sliding past your entrance to find your clit/gripping your base with a surprisingly careful hold]. “We can show you mad.” He grumbled, letting you melt and shudder forwards again, head tipping down to stare at his movements.
“God, enough with the one liners.” You complained weakly, Bo’s own smile twitching a bit at the way you muttered straight at his face, “How about you two stop fucking around and let me know-“ The air was sucked out of your lungs as you felt Rusty bottom out in you without warning, pushing through your tight [cunt/hole] and making you squeak out a noise like an animal being gutted.
“Easy. Don’t tell me that’s all it took to get you to fold, pretty pretty.” Rusty almost laughed, holding your hips still and flush against his. Bo shrugged, letting you bury your head in his chest with his lit cigarette hovering over you, the heel of his hand settled on your shoulder blade as he murmured, “Don’t got any help for you, [Y/N]. If you’re gonna act like a brat, just gonna treat you like one.”
“Think that sounds fair. More than fair.” Rusty’s own hand suddenly took hold of the back of your neck, keeping you in the center of Bo’s chest and tutted at the other man, “Hold [her/him/’em] still.” Bo let the cigarette stick out from the side of his mouth, sending him a testy look before looking down at you with a stony expression, adjusting so you were positioned better against his chest and replacing the hand at the base of your skull with his own. His free one started running laps over your [breasts/pecs], occasionally letting his fingers close in around your nipples and smiling at the way you whimpered against his clothes, callouses not making the touches any more bearable.
A few movements in and out of you had your entire body quaking, from shaking shoulders to your toes curling against the floor under them. Your vision blurred, focused sharply, and at the sensation of getting tapped at your core by Rusty’s cock at a pace slow enough to drive you straight to the border of pain and pleasure and then leave you on the edge, you started puffing and wincing. It was the only noise you could manage, eyes staring into the threads of Bo’s shirt because you had no other solace to turn to.
“Keep [‘er/’em] quiet.” Rusty barked, and suddenly Bo’s hand took hold of your chin and made you look at him again in a sharp movement.
“Open. Said open.” He was too impatient, his fingers pushing past the lips on your face and grazing against your clenched teeth until they were pried, “You heard ‘em. Stay still.” The orange glow of his cigarette was right against your cheek, scorching the already heated skin and making you want to flinch out of his hold. Knowing better – and too weakened from the intrusion – you only moaned slightly as he held your mouth open. Taking the cigarette from his lips, he finally held it away from you only to lean in close and with pursed lips breathe his exhale of smoke into your open mouth.
“The hell is that you’re doin’?” Rusty muttered, following a particularly strained grunt. Bo squinted through the dark. “What? Never shotgun someone, old man?”
He shook his head briefly, once again bucking his hips into you and making you gasp under your breath. “Can’t say I have.”
Bo smirked for a pause, inhaling again just to blow smoke in his direction this time.
“Well, don’t get clever with me. An old dog can learn some new tricks.” Rusty muttered, finally taking a quicker pace against your backside. Spit started to trail from your mouth as your eyes watered. Utterly overwhelmed, you just sucked in air through your open mouth, coughing slightly between jostles from the smoke entering your lungs and lingering in the air between you and the two men.
Your fingers began tracing the outside seam of Bo’s jeans, turning into a needy scratch that began because you had to focus on something that wasn’t what was going in your mouth and taking you from the other side. His hand caught it, pressing your trembling palm into his thigh as he murmured down at you, “You’re real pretty when you drool on me, know that? Stringin’ you out, making you moan for it...”
His eyes had already been trailing down from your face, admiring your strained countenance and your shivering body knocking into his, but when he stared at his [hands rubbing your clit at a bruising pace/hand tugging in brisk motions over the length of your cock], his eyes hardened.
Without another warning, he then turned the cigarette ember-side down and pressed it straight into your bare thigh.
The scream was merely a choked noise to begin, your entire face pulling tight in agony, but as the pain seared over sensitive skin it grew to an agonized wail, one that rang through the air and then shook out to a whimper. As you started heaving breaths, another level of tunnel vision fell over you and you felt Rusty’s tough hands brace your wrists to your sides.
“You thought I wouldn’t see it, huh? Now, that’s cute. Real cute.” Bo spoke over your shoulder, fingers ghosting over the faint “R” burnt into your skin, hiding right by your crotch on your inner thigh.
“When’d you give [him/her/’em] that?” He then asked, bobbing his head in a cross nod and glaring hard. You screwed your eyes shut, feeling him pull the crumpled joint from your skin and flicking it to the floor, hand wrapping around your thigh to hold your trembling leg down and framing it with his own, adjusting to press against the outside of yours. Just a reminder you were staying put despite your squirming.
“What, are you jealous?” Rusty hummed, “I can give you one, too, Bo. Just gotta ask me nicely.”
“Shut the hell up.” He immediately snapped, “I told you, don’t like being surprised, seein’ that shit on my [girl/boy/baby]. Not without my fuckin’ permission, thought we agreed on that.”
“Yeah. Yeah, we did agree on that.” Rusty’s hand came around your hip, touching the faint U-shaped marks on your ribcage and framing them with the L of his index and thumb, splayed against your side and covering the cold flesh with his heat, guiding your back against his chest in the process. “But then I found a little something.” He huffed, “Those teeth look familiar to you, Bo?”
The other man glowered down at it, silent but the truth showing in the way his eyes slid back up to him, and his tongue traced over his bottom lip cautiously.
If you could tear yourself away from the sheer burn festering against your leg, you would’ve held your breath. Instead, something caved in your chest, your oncoming orgasm spiraling from the lack of attention from either of them.
“Shhh.” Bo had your face in his hands at the first hint you had begun crying, something that even startled you when you opened your eyes and the first tears tumbled from your eyes, “You’re okay.” Something you weren’t prepared for, the soft whisper against the bridge of your nose, “Why’re you crying, baby?”
You swallowed hard, warbled voice fighting to stay steady enough to reply, “I-It’s okay, I-“ You sputtered another cough, tears falling and staining his pant leg as you insisted, “I’m okay, just a lot.” Your face was soaked, but you found the strength to groan out, “Fucking love it.”
Rusty chuckled, mouth once again ghosting over your neck and itching you with his scratchy facial hair. Bo’s grin grew in a downright diabolical way, and he swooned, “Aww, course you do.”
#bo sinclair x reader x rusty nail#bo sinclair x reader#rusty nail x reader#slasher x reader#slasher fanfiction#notsfw#✏️#🕯️#⛓️#i have just written a three-way that is SO toxic and i immediately want to do it again
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Happy Birthday
dabi × afab she/her and poc friendly reader
safe for work // 1,633 words // AO3.
warnings: smoking, swearing, cheesy, dabi has an avoidant attachment style, self-harm mention but nothing happens.
summary: He wanted this conversation to be over and done with, snuffed out like a cigarette under his boot. It'd be easy enough to end it himself, all he had to do was be an asshole and leave you behind. Nothing he hadn't done before.
"Knock knock, mind if I join you?"
"Yes."
"I brought cake."
He turned his head slightly towards you, eyeing the paper plate in your hands. In it sat a pretty little slice of glazed strawberry cake with a plastic fork stabbed into it. You had made sure to pile on a bunch of strawberries, just for him.
You may have been the newest addition to the League of Villains, but it wasn't hard to figure out that he was intentionally a loner. Criminals were usually careful not to form close connections with others and the League was no exception. Although, that didn't stop you from being on friendly terms with the other members. They even threw a birthday party for you tonight. With karaoke.
Whereas, Dabi evacuated the mansion at the first sign of a celebration. He rose from his chair when Toga and Twice carried out the cake hidden under a mountain of candles and he was out of the building by the time Mr. Compress enthusiastically accompanied their vocals with a spirited harmonization.
His eyes glanced down at you as he blew smoke out of the side of his mouth and flicked his cigarette away. You frowned.
"That could start a forest fire."
"I could start a forest fire." There was a subtle twitch of his lip that would have went unnoticed had the clouds not cleared from in front of the moon in time.
You offer him the cake, which he wordlessly took, ignoring you as you snuffed out his cigarette. Once no longer lit, you shoved it in your pocket to properly throw out later. You crossed your arms and leaned against the tree, staring out at the umbrous silhouettes of the coniferous forest.
"Being this far out from the city is so nice. Fresh air, no noise pollution. Bunch of stars."
"There's noise pollution," Dabi swallowed down a strawberry. "Y'make it every time you open that dumb mouth."
You snorted in amusement. "I guess you're right about that, but I know you'd miss me if I stopped talking to you."
"If I never have to hear you yappin' at me again, it'd be too soon."
You playfully blew a raspberry at him in fake-annoyance. "You'd have to find someone else to bug you." You pursed your lips. "He's already got Toga, but I'm sure Twice could squeeze in a second best friend," you teased.
He rolled his eyes as he took another bite.
"Spinner?"
"The hell am I gonna talk about with that lizard?"
"First of all, it's a gecko quirk and you know that so don't be mean," you declared in defense of your comrade. "Though, you're right -- what would you talk about? I assume that also means no Tomura? I don't think I've ever seen you guys talk casually before -- aside from the dryest conversation about the weather… Maybe if we find some common ground between you two--"
"Fuck no."
"Aww, hey, he's not that bad. He's just…"
You rubbed at your neck unsure of what to say to that. Nothing you could say would change his thoughts on the matter. You weren't particularly close with Shigaraki, he had his own way of going about things which could be off-putting to most, but he just struck you as an awkward person who grew up without much social contact.
"The League sure is full of lonely people, huh?" You looked back up at the star-filled night for a few minutes, the both of you settling into a comfortable silence. An owl hooted in the distance as a cricket began to chirp from somewhere nearby. "I've always wondered if shooting stars ever got lonely."
"Sorry," you shake your head and laugh in embarrassment. "I like stars. Do you?"
"Stupid question."
You wondered if it really was and thought about how stars must seem miniscule to someone capable of burning as brightly as him. You leaned your head against the trunk and watched him finish his cake.
Earlier in the day, while writing down a list of necessary ingredients to bake and decorate the cake, there had been a conversation about birthdays. You couldn't remember who exactly brought up the topic, but you certainly weren't expecting the other members to easily give away that information. Unsurprisingly, Dabi was the only one that didn't share his.
He followed a gust of wind that swept through the night and as he passed you, flicked his plastic fork at you. You clumsily caught it and complained, only earning his indifference in return. He turned his back to you and set the paper plate ablaze. You opened your mouth to remind him of trashcans and how they still exist, but the words died in your throat as you watched the smoke get carried away by the breeze, away from you. You were secretly grateful that he was too busy making his way to an adjacent tree to notice you bite back a smile.
"Dabi."
"What is it now?" He leaned against his new tree and lazily shoved his hands in his pockets. He was always good at keeping his distance.
"You don't have to tell me your birthday."
He scoffed, "Way to state the obvious."
"We can share mine."
He narrowed his eyes at you, analyzing you for any sign of a punchline but your face was earnest. Annoyingly so.
"What makes you think I want your dumb birthday?"
"It's not that I think you want it, but wouldn't it be nice to have a day to celebrate… you?"
"What's there to celebrate," he sneered.
He didn't mean for it to be taken so seriously, but the dopey look of concern on your face made him regret he said anything. Your brows furrowed.
"A lot. There's a lot to celebrate."
"Don't get all mushy, you're creepin' me out."
"Am I?"
"Yes," he growled. He wanted this conversation to be over and done with, snuffed out like a cigarette under his boot. It'd be easy enough to end it himself. All he had to do was be an asshole and leave you behind. Nothing he hadn't done before.
Deep, deep down there was a hungry part of him that ached. It belonged to the part of him that he had refused to acknowledge for the past seven years. He continued to ignore it's existence despite it being the very thing that kept him rooted in place, as though he were one of the trees in this giant fucking forest. The frustration it filled his chest with made him want to light himself on fire.
"At the expense of sounding like a creep…" You chewed on your bottom lip as you stared back up at the stars. Your fingers fiddled with a loose thread on your clothes. You were so easy to read.
"I'm really glad you're here."
Another breeze passed between the two of you, carrying your words along and rustling leaves. You looked over at him with eyes that overflowed with a depth of sincerity that made him want to start a wildfire and let himself get caught in it. He felt physically ill.
"You're gonna make me sick."
One of Dabi's eyes squinted more than the other as his tongue poked out of his mouth enough for you to see his piercings. The way his face scrunched reminded you of a cat's Flehmen response. You would've thought it was cute if you didn't feel so offended right now.
You huffed, staring at the grass as you tried to ignore the heat that crept up to your cheeks. "Was it really that bad?"
"Cheesy as hell. Keep that shit to yourself."
You shook it off and sighed exaggeratedly. "Well, since you seemed to like it so much, I might have to do it again for you some time." You stuck your tongue out at him playfully.
"Don't you fuckin' dare or I'll roast you on the spot."
You grinned and opened your mouth to offer a lighthearted retort when you heard your name being called in the distance. You turned to look around the tree and saw Toga waving you over for your turn at karaoke. You waved back at the younger girl in acknowledgement before she hopped back inside the mansion.
"I'm surprised they managed to pry the mic out of Mr.'s hands long enough to give someone else a turn," you laughed. "See you later. I'm glad you liked the cake."
"Yeah, yeah."
He pulled out a pack of smokes from his jacket and stuck a cigarette in between his lips. He lit it and watched as you fiddled with the plastic fork he flicked at you earlier. "What're you still doing here for?"
You smiled at him.
"Happy birthday."
"Tch, cheesy," he spoke humorlessly as you turned away. "By the way..."
You looked back at him and felt your face burning up as you saw his gaze drop from your eyes down to your lips.
"…Dabi?"
He smirked.
"Y'got cake on your face."
You blinked a few times as you processed his words before swiping your mouth. You looked at your hand to see the vivid scarlet of the strawberry glaze.
"Oh." You looked at it for a moment before wiping it against your clothes and giving an awkward laugh, "Um, thanks."
"You got a room full of ears to make bleed, mine've had enough. Get outta here."
You laughed before you jogged back to the mansion. He stared at the ground where you previously stood and took a drag. With each inhale, the toxins purged his body of a restlessness that had been stirred by the zephyr of your words.
You talk too much.
He looked up in time to see you wave goodbye at him before you disappeared inside. He breathed in another lungful of fumes before exhaling it up at the same sky that always seemed to captivate you.
"Happy birthday."
#dabi x reader#dabi x you#dabi#todoroki touya#grumpy sunshine#if you squint#it's a scene from a longfic i've been working on privately#first post i dunno how to tag this#i havent even set an icon or changed from default tumblr theme#fuck it we ball#edit nov 8 2023: um i waited a week before rereading and editing and other than cheesiness its not as bad as i thought it was when i posted#i got some new ideas last week but i take 1000 years to write and edit so hopefully i can post one of them in time for his birthday in jan#SpookyxSprinkles#edit april 5th 2024: cleaned little mistakes + wordings that've been bothering me. there's a paragraph i wanna fix SObad but i dunno how ye
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Everyone loves an Outlaw
Jason Todd x Male! Mafia Reader
The rain fell onto the streets of Gotham City hard this one night, it seemed crime took over a little too much. Too much that the Heroes and the few good cops left didn’t like it.
Y/n Friedrich was the new talk on the streets lately, apparently he didn’t like that Sionis and Cobblepot refused business, so he took a flight from Germany to Gotham.
‘You see, I don’t like men like you, they think they can do a half assed job and not suffer’ You said as you put pressure onto the knife.
You stabbed one of Sionis’ men in the hand and held it, against the oak table.
‘Fine, I’ll help you and do business but let Donnie go, he’s my best henchman’ Sionis replied to you, monotone and sarcastic.
‘Sarcasm is not appreciated’ you scowled as you dug the knife a little deeper.
‘Here I was thinking German’s didn’t get sarcasm’ Sionis laughed, under his iconic mask.
‘Stereotypes, is that what you’re basing our conversations on?’
Sionis came over to Donnie as you pulled the knife out, almost smiling to himself. Until an old friend of his kicked the door in.
‘Ding dong’ Red Hood said as he fired a shot, forcing everyone to stand still.
Except you, you pulled out your pistol as Black Mask grabbed your arm, shaking his head.
‘No no Friedrich, this one is mine’ he smiled, Red Hood busted a few of the men that tried to take him down.
You stood watching in surprise as Red Hood threw himself into battle with no hesitation, not even reacting to blows and hits.
‘You’re a new one’ Red Hood said as he looked you up and down, placing his gun into his holster.
‘I’m y/n Friedrich, you are?’
‘Just call me the Red Hood, hope you don’t mind but I gotta get our friend here to the GCPD’ he said as he went to pick up Sionis.
You pulled your gun out once more and pointed it to Red Hood, who only sighed as he stood back up.
‘Think again Mr Hood, this man has promised me business’ you said, Red Hood tilted his head to the side.
‘Well, he can discuss it with you while he’s in prison’
You went to hit Red Hood, but he grabbed your arm and flipped you over his shoulder and onto the ground. You lay on your back, Red Hood on top of you.
‘You’re not the first man to knock me off of my feet, nor are you the first man to hold me down’ you said, smiling in your eyes as you kept your stoic face.
‘I bet beautiful, don’t worry, we’ll see each other again’
With that Red Hood was off as quick as the Flash with your new business partner.
‘Scheisse’ you muttered under your breath, remaining on the ground.
…
You poured your scotch into your glass as you took of your jacket, placing your gun on the desk and pulled the straps of your braces down.
You sat on your couch as your phone buzzed alerting you had a text.
You sighed as you saw some of your men back in Germany were texting to inform of news, as you sat reading the texts, you lit up your cigarette and took another swig of your drink.
You snapped round in a second, gun in hand facing the open window as Red Hood crouched in the frame.
‘Nice reflexes’ he chuckled, you narrowed your eyes.
‘How did you know where I was?’ You asked, an expressionless face.
Red Hood strolled into your hotel room as he took a look around, you still holding a gun to him.
‘Figured when Mafia or rich people visit, they stay here. It’s the nicest and most secure Hotel in Gotham’ he said, sitting on your bed.
You remained aiming your gun as you watched suspiciously, Red Hood was calm…too calm.
‘You gonna put the gun down or just keep pointing it at me? I’m not armed so it seems unfair. Also, your safety is still on’ Red Hood pointed, you sighed as you placed your gun back on the desk.
‘First question, how did you know I’m Mafia? Second, why didn’t you bring a weapon?’ You asked, holding your scotch in your hand.
Red Hood merely chuckled at you as he stood up, walking closer to you.
‘Y/n Friedrich, Germany. Doesn’t take much of a Google search. Also I’m not armed because you’re a Prince as well as Mafia’
Your eyebrows shot up as you walked over to lock your hotel room door, Red Hood following you with his eyes.
‘How did you know I’m a Prince? Even Black Mask didn’t know?’
Red Hood shrugged as he smiled under his mask, you waited for the answer.
‘I have my ways of finding things’
‘Well I’m not a Prince by title but by birth right, but the whole not being near the next in line is good as doesn’t interfere with business’ you explained.
It’s true, you are a Prince, but your the furthest from the line. Therefore you wouldn’t be considered to take over one day. Also, as only your Mother’s side is Royalty it wouldn’t necessarily count.
There was a knock at your door as you urged Red Hood to stay quiet, you opened it to find your bodyguard, Bene.
‘Bene, everything ok?’ You asked with a side smile, your bodyguard spoke lowly but also softly towards you.
‘Why is your door locked Sir?’ Bene asked, you simply winked at the man.
‘I’m heading to bed, decided I might have an early night. Why don’t you take a night off, go enjoy the night life and a bar. I’ll see you in the morning’ you smiled, Bene nodded as he took off down the hallway.
You locked your hotel room door again, turning to face Red Hood. Who had now removed his helmet.
‘We should talk more’ he said, holding his hand out for you,
‘And please, call me Jason’
You smiled as you shook his hand, your grip was equally as strong as Jason’s.
‘Y/n’ you smiled again, Jason stared at you as you pulled your hand away.
‘You smile? I thought German’s didn’t smile’ Jason chuckled,
‘Stereotype’ you chuckled, Jason sitting in the seat as the desk.
Jason smiled as you poured the both of you a drink, you handed him a glass as you looked in his eyes.
‘So, tell me how exactly you wish to help me. I’m assuming that’s your intention’
You and Jason clinked your glasses as you downed your second drink, Jason smiling as he sipped his.
‘You don’t want to do business with someone like Sionis, he’ll get what he wants from you, then he’ll either turn on you or kill you. Or both’ Jason spoke, taking another sip.
‘I’m assuming you’re going to prevent that? I have bodyguards for that’ you smiled, pouring yourself another drink.
You had a bodyguard since you were a child, Bene, he was more than your bodyguard. He was your family.
He used to take you on trips when you were younger, Austria, Paris…he took you everywhere and showed you the normal side to life. Life away from Mafia.
‘They can’t protect from him, he’s dangerous’ Jason said as he finished his drink.
‘So am I’
The both of you talked more and drank more as Jason began to tell you about his run ins with Sionis, who was secretly working with Falcone. Another dangerous man you shouldn’t get involved with.
‘Why do you care Jason?’ You asked randomly as you sat next to Jason calmly on the couch, Jason looked at you.
‘You’re cute’ Jason shrugged, you shook your head, smiling a little.
‘Don’t joke, what is it?’ You asked, more serious this time.
‘People like us don’t get protected well enough at times, we get left to carry on just because we carry guns and shit’ Jason almost whispered.
‘People like us?’ You asked, Jason smiled as he looked at you, putting his arm on the back of the couch.
‘Gun toting men, we never get the chance to show our vulnerable side, because we’re bad guys’ Jason replied, looking deep in your eyes.
‘You’re not all bad, Jason’ you smiled, Jason laughed as he leant in a little more.
‘Neither are you hot stuff’
Maybe it was the fact the two of you were nearly drunk by now, or maybe it was the fact you hadn’t had action for a while. Whatever the reason, you leant in too and kissed Jason, who kissed you back without hesitation.
Jason remained seated as you climbed on his lap, deepening the kiss as Jason ran a hand through your hair, the other loves on your hip.
‘You sure?’ Jason asked you, kissing your neck as you nodded, pulling him in closer.
Jason lifted you up as he carried you to your bed, unbuttoning your shirt as he kissed down your chest and stomach, feeling your hardness under your pants, Jason felt himself getting harder too.
Jason stripped you off then himself, rolling in his back as you sat on top of him, kissing down his body.
‘We won’t have to be quiet, my bodyguard won’t be back till morning’ you whispered, Jason laughing a little.
‘Don’t ruin the moment’ Jason replied as he kissed you again.
…
The sun came up strong as Jason pinned you down with his arms, he’d held you all night.
‘Who would of thought, the big German Mafia boss slash Prince is a bottom’ Jason chuckled, as he had his arm around you.
His naked body pressed against your back, you smiled.
‘Power bottom, danke’ you turned to kiss Jason, realising the time you shot out of bed.
‘Scheisse’
Jason stared at you, confused as to the sudden change of atmosphere.
‘Bene will be here soon, my bodyguard’ you said, putting on your underwear.
‘Want me to leave?’ Jason asked, still sleepy a little as he sat up.
‘Not yet’ you smiled, you picked up the room phone as you called downstairs, ordering coffee for the both of you.
Jason walked around the room naked as he looked for his underwear, finding it under his handcuffs.
‘Do you want to take a shower before?’ You asked, walking towards the bathroom door.
Jason nodded as he walked in with you, the two of you showered together. Though not much showering was done as Jason kept making out with you.
Jason forgot the towels as he threw you on the bed, crawling on top of you, you smiled.
‘One more round before room service and bodyguards’ Jason smiled, kissing your neck.
…
Business wasn’t a complete waste of time as you had fun in Gotham City, mostly because of the action you had with Jason.
But you were only in town for a few days which meant you’d have to go home, and you missed home. However, you also wanted to stay a bit longer.
‘Y/n, didn’t think you’d leave without saying bye did you?’ Jason asked as he smiled, dressed in civilian clothes.
Bene stood next to you as he went to go forward and check Jason, you put your arm out.
‘He’s fine, he’s a friend, can you give me a minute?’ You asked, Bene nodded.
You walked over to Jason as he hugged you tight, you felt sad to be leaving but it wasn’t for too long this time.
‘I have one business issue in Frankfurt, another in Bremen but once I’m done I’ll be back. It’ll be a couple of months’ you said, Jason holding your hand.
‘I’ll wait for you, will you see me when you come back?’ Jason asked you, you smiled as you nodded.
You leant in as you kissed him, deeply as Bene watched on. He smiled ever so slightly.
‘I’ll write to you’ you spoke, Jason looked a little surprised.
‘Really?’
‘German’s are old fashioned, also we may not be romantic, but we are loyal’ you kissed him again.
After the two of you said your goodbyes, you boarded your private jet.
‘Ready to go Mr Friedrich?’ Your pilot asked you, you smiled and nodded.
‘Yes, we can come back in a few months’
The jet lifted as Jason stood and watched you take off. He waved to you, as you did too watching as his figure got smaller and smaller.
‘See you soon, Jason’
You closed your eyes for a rest, it was a long flight back home. Remembering the few nights you’d spent with Jason.
#red hood#gotham#red hood fanfiction#red hood x reader#red hood x you#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd x reader#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd#Mafia#mobster#red hood x male reader#jason todd x male reader
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First off, I absolutely love your writing! It truly is incredible. If you like the idea, would you be willing to write about a hero who is deathly terrified of fire and extreme heat? They have kept it a secret all their life, but the villain just found out about it and uses it against them. And the villain taunts them throughout the extreme mental and physical torture? Thanks!
more than willing! hope you like it and thanks so much!
cw: sadistic whumper, hero whumpee, burning, exploiting a phobia (maybe, idk?)
Click. A spurt of yellow flame shot up against the shadows as Villain lit their cigarette. They watched intently as Hero flinched back as far as they could in their restraints.
Villain exhaled a puff of smoke, leaning forward to breath it in Hero’s face.
And there it was again. The veiled panic, flashing across Hero’s eyes. As bright as any flame.
Villain toyed with the lighter. Clicking it on and off. On and off. They circled Hero, watching the city’s savior tense.
They stood behind Hero, still messing with the lighter. Leaning close, they held the lighter in Hero’s face.
Hero inhaled sharply, jerking back. Something like a curse, more of a strangled cry, forced it’s way out of his mouth.
“Hero, you aren’t scared of a tiny lighter now are you?”
“—No,” The lie was spat out too quickly to be believed. “No, no— God—”
Villain had shoved the lighter closer. “Methinks you doth protest too much.” They grabbed a handful of Hero’s hair, forcing Hero to look up.
Dilated eyes locked on the tiny flame.
Sharp, painful breathing.
Villain smiled. “To think the city’s mighty hero is scared of a wee bit of fire.” They held the flame dangerously close to Hero’s hair. A little closer.
“I’m not—”
“Oh, you’re terrified. Don’t deny it.”
Closer still. Dark hair burst alight, burning faster than straw.
Hero yanked against Villain’s hand— that was singed hair he could smell— burning, burning, burning red and gold.
Villain put the flames out by slapping Hero’s head.
Hero collapsed against the wooden table, pressing his face to the cool surface like it was his own personal coffin. Vaguely, he was aware of Villain running their hand through the singed patch of hair. “Don’t cry, my friend. You and I are you going to have loads of fun with this.”
***
Hero could handle anything. Had handled everything. Could take the punches, the pliers, the water boarding.
He could handle it all.
Except fire.
Never that. Never the curling scarlet that set alight every nerve in his body with throbbing red.
***
Open flame spiraled into the low ceiling of the cell.
Vivid blue and brighter red. The colors sank into the walls, the floor. They bled out into the ceiling. Heart-pulsing, throbbing red.
Bruising blue, the color left behind by a fist.
Hero stumbled, knees giving out on him. The world spun and fractured and burst into flame.
Villain hauled him to his feet. “You are so beyond pathetic. It’s just fire.”
Just fire.
“And sure you’re going to stick your arm in it, but, hey maybe after we can make s’mores.”
Hero’s stomach dropped. The words had been like a white-hot knife. “What?”
“Did you say you were left handed or right handed?”
Hero held both arms to his chest. “Please, please, please—”
“Begging? Huh that’s a new low.” Villain’s voice twisted into one of Control. Their abilities far outstripped Hero’s now, after weeks of captivity. “Put your right arm in the fire.”
Crimson-bleeding pain. Hero sobbed even as his arm was dragged forward.
—twisting, murderous pain started at his fingers and crawled upwards— a tattoo of never ending pain—
And Villain? Villain laughed.
Hero’s sobs turned to screams.
“Hey, Hero, Hero,” Villain snapped their fingers to get Hero’s attention. “Smile for the camera.” Click. “I think I’m gonna caption this as ‘Too Hot for You’.”
Again, that laugh.
#thanks so much for the ask#i was so excited when i saw this because i’ve never gotten an ask outside of like ask games#so#yeah#i really hope the scene doesn’t disappoint#whump writing#whump#whumpblr#hero whumpee#hero and villain#sadistic whumper#cw burning#whump community
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nothing’s gonna hurt you baby (carmy x f!reader) -- Part 3
Pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader
Content: 18+.
Word Count: 6.3k
Warnings/Tags: cursing/foul-language, smoking, angst, panic attack, hurt/comfort (does it count as hurt if the hurt is mental anguish?)
Chapter Synopsis: Your mom tries to help your restaurant progress by flying out her friend-of-a-friend from New York City. You’d rather eat glass than work with a pompous, Chef from New York but you agree to meet with him.
You and Carmy have a rare moment of vulnerability.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three
(Read on Ao3)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Carmy lit a cigarette and exhaled slowly. He sat outside his restaurant while looking across the street. He didn’t see the usual construction workers and assumed whatever interior projects must’ve finished. He didn’t see any furniture inside either. Or you. He didn’t see you. He flicked ashes off to the side.
“Cousin, you good?” Richie sidled next to him and offered an empty hand to bum a drag from his cigarette and Carmy passed it to him.
“Yeah, why?”
“You don’t usually smoke out front.” Richie said after taking a long inhale, exhaling through his nostrils, and Carmy shrugged.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You stared at the white ceiling and dragged both hands down your face. You sat up and discovered half of your bed covered in a montage of furniture catalogs and food magazines. You hadn’t hired a chef, but you figured you could come up with a menu on your own. After all, you were doing everything else on your own. Another task or two? Fine. You could handle it. You were unstoppable. You were a third-generation genius. The only thing worse than failure was not trying at all.
You lifted your phone from your nightstand to see an infuriating text from Tim that read: ‘Electrician will be late. Should arrive by 2. Thx.’
You were two bad days away from firing Tim and hiring literally anyone else. Why did your grandfather hire him in the first place? His employees were always late, they were always backlogged, and they always had to drive to east-bumfuck-nowhere to find specific parts. You inhaled deeply through your nose, expanding your chest, and then released it all in a big, suffering sigh. You allowed yourself one pity moment per week for no more than thirty seconds.
“Grow up. Get over it.” You said to yourself before pushing aside the covers.
You swept all the magazines off your bed, and they fluttered to the floor like confetti. After making your bed, you scooped them together with the intention of piling them and putting them on your nightstand.
“Shit!” You hissed, retracting your hand, and sucking the pad of your thumb. You pulled your mouth away and glared at the paper cut welling with a pinprick of blood. “It’s going to be one of those days, huh?”
You left the magazines in a sloppy pile on the ground. You’d deal with it tonight. Or tomorrow. You opened your medicine cabinet and wrapped your thumb in a plain, beige bandage. Your eyes lifted to your mirror and fell upon your bruise. Fucker. You hated that he was right. You did think of him every time you looked in the mirror. Goddamn…arrogant…fucker.
You leaned forward, inspecting the love-bite, and scowled. At least it’s gotten smaller. You reached for your makeup bag and searched for your foundation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Mom, that’s not necessary.” You said whilst shoving your cereal bowl into the top rack of your cluttered dishwasher. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to fit like this. Annoying. You tucked your phone into the crook of your shoulder and picked up a glass cup to try and make room.
“Ah, fuck!” You shouted as the glass slipped from your fingers and shattered on the hardwood. “Son of—"
Your mom continued talking, unperturbed, “Honey, he’s already flying into O’Hare. My assistant is going to pick him up and bring him to your restaurant. He came highly recommended.”
“I understand that.” You said, setting your phone on speaker and grabbing a dustpan and small broom from under the sink. “Can’t you just send him back to New York?”
“We’ve talked about this. He is Beverly’s sisters’ friend who used to work in a restaurant owned by—”
“I know, I know.” You tried to cut in. You already heard this a dozen times and you always told her ‘No. I don’t want his help’ And ‘No, thank you, Mom. You don’t need to call your friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend like this is some pyramid scheme and have a fucko from New York to help me’.
“--Bobby Flay.” She talked over you. “You are in charge of hiring and firing. But you should at least hear him out, listen to his ideas, and ask for his advice.”
You rolled your eyes. You would rather eat the glass you were cleaning up than to get advice from a New York City Chef. You plucked a large shard off the floor and stared absently at the shiny, clear edge that glistened in the bright morning light. Vaguely, you could hear your mom talking, but it sounded like it came from inside a subway tunnel. It didn’t look that sharp.
You tossed it into the dustpan and resumed sweeping the tiny, crystalline pieces from the floor.
“You said you didn’t have a menu, right?” She asked.
“I’m working on one.”
“Great! He can look it over with you.” She said cheerily. “You’re doing everything on your own sweetheart, and you don’t need to be. Let someone help.”
You remained kneeling on the floor, dustpan in hand, and leaned your head into the side of your countertop. You couldn’t dip out sick. You couldn’t be sick. You were going to put your shoes on. You were going to get your coat. And you were going to meet this Chef. Grow up. Get over it.
You were going to do it because you had no other choice. You couldn’t drive him back to the airport and say “See ya!” Your mother’s reputation would suffer. Your reputation would suffer. You had been in the game long enough to know how reputation either supported or shattered you. You swallowed your pride and it cut your throat to ribbons on the way down.
You tossed the broken glass into the trash and picked up your phone, turning off speaker, “What did you say his name was?”
“Joel.”
“Great.” You said wryly. “I’ll see him soon.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You paced outside your restaurant with both hands tucked into your leather duster. It felt like an eternity passed before Veronica arrived in a sleek black Cadillac and a tall, white dude with glasses stepped out. He wore a tailored blue suit, and his hair was clearly gelled or moussed or something. He looked polished. He looked like every guy you went to college with who attended a fraternity and then got a job at their daddy’s law firm. Veronica gave you a pointed look that you deciphered as “BE NICE!” You’d try your best. You really, really would.
“You must be Joel.” You said flatly. “My mom spoke highly of you.”
“She spoke highly of you as well. Hello.” He shook your hand with both of his.
You took a fortifying inhale as Joel turned to grab his briefcase from Veronica. You slipped off the reality of the exhausted, over-worked first-time restaurant owner who desperately didn’t want to fuck this up and plastered a sweet, congenial smile on your face. You opened the front door and made a grandiose sweeping gesture for him to enter first.
Veronica waved goodbye, “Text me if you need anything!” She said in her faint south-London accent. Her bright red hair and equally bright blue eyeshadow disappeared behind the tinted windows of her Cadillac. You faintly heard the thumping bass of techno music as Veronica pulled away and you smiled to yourself before facing Joel.
“It gets good natural light. I like these bay windows.” He said, gesturing to them while surveying the space, and nodding. “Can I see the kitchen?”
“That’s where the magic happens.” Joel didn’t even crack a smile at your joke. Ok, dick. Get the spatula out of your ass. Jesus.
You slipped in front of him and led him to the back. You installed two gas stoves with convection ovens, and a walk-in freezer and fridge. You had plenty of shelves and storage space. The kitchen was well-lit with energy-saving and eco-friendly fluorescent lights. Naturally, the place was sterile because no one had cooked in here. Your heart stuttered at the weight of – everything – (there was a reason you didn’t like to wander into the empty kitchen), and you shoved your hands into your pockets before Joel noticed them shaking.
He ran his fingers across the top of the shelves. “What model are the stoves?”
“Uh…” You racked your brain for the answer, “SABA.”
“Hm.” He pressed his lips together, “I really would’ve gone with Vulcan or Garland.”
Your façade dissolved like cotton candy in water. How dare he? These were the make and models that your grandfather picked out. Your grandfather who was opening restaurants since before this asshole was in diapers. Granddad did his research. He spoke to vendors. He scoured reviews and talked to other restaurant owners and talked to chefs. He didn’t Google ‘Best Stove 2022’, order it, and move on with his day.
“Yeah, next time I’ve got a couple grand lying around I’ll swap them out.” You said coolly.
Joel continued to prowl around the kitchen, asking questions, and you trailed after him and glared at the back of his head. For every question he asked, your answer always seemed to underwhelm him. He’d press his lips together and go “Hm” and then say some bullshit like, ‘in my restaurant we have three thermometers on the fridge. You should do that too.’ or sometimes he’d just say “Hm” and that was worse somehow. The side of your tongue ached with the frequency of your bites against it.
You loved your mom. You respected her career, her diligence, and ambition. You were not going to kick out the fancy five-star Chef only because you loved her more than you hated him. It was a very small margin though. You sat together on the metal stools within your kitchen and Joel opened his briefcase. He looked like a shitty lawyer.
“You have a menu, correct?” He asked.
“I have ideas for a menu.” You admitted with a pointed look to your clean, flat ceiling. You wondered if you could sneak away to the bathroom, text Veronica, and get him out without it being suspicious.
“That’s alright. Ideas are good. What are they?”
You blinked, confused, and met his inquisitive gaze. This entire walkthrough he had only criticism to say. Now he wanted to share ideas? Incredible. A flexible Chef. What a concept! You couldn’t keep the sarcastic tone out of your own thoughts.
“Do you actually want to work for me?” You asked instead of answering his question.
He interlaced his fingers together on his lap, “I’d like to.”
“Why?”
“You’re intelligent, well-educated, and ambitious. I know your family. I know your grandfather’s history. And I know you were named one of the up-and-coming entrepreneurs in 2020 after your success during the merger between Cincinnati general electric and Fiber-Midwest. You were their financial and acquisitions manager right?”
“One of my many jobs while working for them, yeah.” You shrugged. It wasn’t the most impressive thing on your track sheet. However, you respected that Joel did his homework. Hell, you probably should’ve done some homework yourself so you could have had more of an advantage in this conversation.
“You’re fearless.” He said it so plainly like it was a simple fact of the universe. “Of course, I'd want to work with you.”
Flattery doesn’t work on you most of the time. But today, you were staring down the barrel of your June opening date, the customer bathroom electricity was fucked, and your electrician was running late, you had no furniture beyond your office and kitchen equipment, there was no hired staff, no menu, and your mom was right—you couldn’t do this alone.
You held out your hand. “Show me your menu.”
The menu was two-sided, the front for breakfast and the opposite side for brunch. There were a few classic dishes like eggs and toast. But a majority of the menu was fancier shit—poached rhubarb syrup on sourdough with cream cheese, wild mushroom bruschetta, smoked salmon eggs benedict, and an iced ‘tonic’ drink made with kale, Fuji apple, and cucumber. You drummed your fingers against the protective plastic lamination.
“Wow this is…”
“Impressive?” He assumed.
“A lot.” You said, looking up at him, “I’ve talked to the people around here and they like the simpler stuff. Sausage and egg on an English muffin. Good bacon. Strong coffee. We’re not reinventing the wheel here.”
“I thought you wanted to make this place special. Anyone and their grandmother could walk to McDonald’s and get a breakfast sandwich.” Joel said, leaning forward in his stool to meet your eyes. You grimaced at your fatigued blurry reflection in his glasses.
“I’m just saying – I think we’d have more success with a simpler menu. I mean what even is--croque madame?”
“The description is on the menu below the name.”
“Yeah, I fucking see that.” You rolled your eyes. “But I don’t know what a gruyère, gratinéed béchamel is.”
“Gruyère is a type of hard Swiss cheese. A béchamel is a type of sauce, and gratinéed describes how the cheese is prepared into the sauce.” He explained monotonously.
You set the menu down on the counter beside you and carded both hands through your hair. It all sounded very nice. Incredibly fancy. It sounded like the menu for one of your grandfather’s restaurants. You just couldn’t figure out why you weren’t happier about it. You should be shaking his hand and empathetically thanking him for his time and effort and knowledge.
Instead, you wanted to slam your forehead into the metal preparation table until you saw God.
“We should check the competition while I’m here.” Joel slid off his stool and his knee bumped into yours.
“The Beef is not our competition. They’re a sandwich shop.” The words were out before you could stop them. The side of your neck burned hot with memory. You rubbed your hand along it and some of the foundation rubbed off in a chalky powder onto your palm. You wiped it off across your thigh.
You blinked and shook your head, “Sorry. I don’t know…why I said that. You’re right. Let’s go.”
The second you were outside, you pulled your pack of cigarettes out of your pocket and slid one between your lips. The walk would take less than a minute but that was more than enough time for a drag or two. Besides, it was the lunch rush. There might be a line and you could loiter outside for a few minutes and harvest a few more pulls.
“You smoke?” Joel asked, frowning.
“You don’t?”
“No. I don’t.” He scoffed. “You should quit. They’re terrible for you.” He reached into his pocket and held out a small package of gum, “Here. Chew this instead.”
“Thanks!” You snatched up the entire foil-wrapped package, tucked it in your pocket, and lit your cigarette. Joel pursed his lips and squinted at you through the haze of smoke. He waved his hand to dispel the gray, blue-ish plumes and walked away toward the crosswalk.
You grinned.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You shuffled along in the line behind Joel. On principal, you weren’t going to order anything, but you weren’t going to stop Joel from getting a sandwich. The inside of The Beef was about as chaotic as you expected given the perpetual state of exhaustion Carmy carried on his shoulders. Richie kept yelling and then cursing at the iPad in front of him. You pushed the piece of gum around in your mouth, rolling your tongue, and snapping a bubble between your back teeth.
“Hey sweetheart, what can I get ya?” Richie said whilst ignoring Joel. You noticed Richie favored the familiar faces over the unfamiliar.
“Ice water.”
Joel looked down his nose at you. “You should eat something.”
“No.” You said flatly. Your tone brokered no argument. You narrowed your eyes up at Joel and he sighed, pulling out his wallet, and ordering a hot and sweet sandwich for himself. You broke away from the line and peered over the deli counter. You could see into the kitchen. You weren’t trying to peep or snoop. Not intentionally.
Your eyes locked with Carmy’s through the narrow service window. Your heart ballooned in your chest, and you inhaled deeply like this was your first God’s honest breath you took all day. It was only a second. Barely a second. Yet you felt it stretch like saltwater taffy between your teeth. You were standing in a crowded room with Richie’s laughter filling your ears. He stood in the kitchen with white ticket tape pinched between his fingers.
Joel’s hand touched your shoulder and it snapped whatever spell that momentarily took hold of you. You blinked rapidly and looked up at him. “Yeah?”
He held his phone against his ear, “Hey, I gotta take this. Grab the sandwiches.”
“Please and thank you. God, they really don’t teach manners in culinary school.” You muttered to yourself as he walked out of The Beef.
Richie leaned against the counter, snorted, and jerked a thumb toward the door, “Who was that guy?”
You rubbed your forehead with your hand. “He’s a walking headache.”
“Yeah, no shit. Is he your boyfriend?”
You leveled Richie with A Look. “No. Ew.”
“He’s not your type, huh?” Richie asked. You were about to tell him to tend to his customers and stop trying to hit on you, but the kitchen door pushed open and Carmy said your name with urgency.
“Can I talk to you for a sec?” He said. His weary, blue eyes were uncharacteristically wild. Then again, maybe it was a side-effect of being at work during the lunch rush. Your interactions thus far were limited to after hours. A quick glance to the front confirmed that Joel was still on his phone. You shrugged, collecting your cup of ice water from Richie, and Carmy motioned for you to follow him behind the counter.
You passed behind Richie, wove quickly through the tight kitchen space, and around the dishwashing station. You noticed the quick, confused glances of the staff. Marcus smiled at you. However, Carmy didn’t address anyone or explain anything. He moved through the space with determined, quick strides and expected you to follow. He flattened his palm against a heavy, black door and pushed it open for you.
“Tell me you aren’t working with that asshole.” Carmy said the second the door swung shut and you were alone within a semi-private spot. He paced in a small circle with his hands on his hips.
“Oh my God!” You laughed, bewildered yet unsurprised. “You are such a control freak!”
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. First, Carmy tells you to close before it’s too late, and now he had the audacity to tell you who you should or shouldn’t hire. It was your establishment. Not his. How many times would you dance this little dance? It was getting repetitive and obnoxious.
He stopped pacing and stared at you. “Don’t work with him. Just don’t. Trust me, okay? Don’t.”
“Stop trying to micro-manage my business.” You said angrily.
“I’m not fucking trying to micro-manage you. I’m—”
“Helping?” You interrupted hotly.
Carmy pressed his palms together, bringing his hands to the front of his mouth, and exhaled heavily. “I worked with him in New York.” His eyes squeezed tightly together in a harsh blink. “D-don’t – Don’t – “
You waited for Carmy to elaborate. You waited for him to tell you that there was some Big Scandal. Your brow furrowed at the rapid rise and fall of Carmy’s chest and the wild flare of his nostrils. He wasn’t looking at you anymore. His eyes were wide and glossed over and focused on the ground. You set your cup down on the bench and approached him, carefully, with your hands outstretched.
“Whoa, hey. Hey!” You squeezed his strong, solid biceps. “Carmy. Carmen.”
Your hands trailed across his warm skin, down his arms, and to his hands which were interlaced tightly in front of his chin—his grip white-knuckled and trembling. You covered your hands over his. His fingers were a sailor’s knot with no hope of disentanglement. You settled for gently squeezing and flexing your fingers over his.
“Breathe with me, Carmy. Come on. Breathe in.” You took a lungful of air and exhaled nosily with your lips shaped in a round ‘o’. “And out.”
His eyes found yours through the miasma of terror and panic. You nodded a little with your eyes locked onto his, “Breathe in.” You slipped one hand from his and cupped his cheek. You could faintly feel rough stubble on his skin. You hoped the varied tactile sensations would ground him.
“And out. Like this. You can do it.” You mimicked the deep breathing technique again. Carmy followed you this time, breathing slowly, and his inhale rattled like the wooden deck of an old ship.
“Good. That’s good.” You smiled, “Just keep breathing with me, okay? That’s all we gotta do right now.” His hand beneath yours abruptly shifted and gripped your palm firmly. You gently squeezed his hand with each inhale and lessened the pressure of your grip on each exhale.
Carmy leaned forward ever-so-slightly. His forehead pressed against yours. Your co-joined hands, twisted together, remained at chin level. His breath ghosted across your knuckles and a tremor raced down your spine. His eyes brightened. He held your gaze, though now you felt like he was actually looking at you and wasn’t lost in a memory. You were completely enraptured.
“Still with me?” You asked softly as your bandaged thumb gingerly stroked his cheek in the space below his eye.
He nodded slowly and his hold on your hand slackened. “Yeah.”
You cleared your throat and drew your hand away from his face. He caught your wrist briefly and gave a pointed look to your bandage, “How’d that happen?”
“I was juggling knives.” You said before hiding your hands in your coat. Your hands tingled and prickled. It was probably because of the death-grip Carmy had. You were getting your circulation back. That was it.
“I figured if the restaurant business didn’t work out, I might apply for like the circus.”
He cracked a small, close-lipped smile. Your stomach did an acrobatic flip. The tension of what happened laid heavy like fresh fallen snow in the space between you. You didn’t know what to say or how to address the fact that Carmy had a panic attack in front of you. You doubted he knew what to say either. It wasn’t every day you had a breakdown in front of someone you fucked and had a weird semi-antagonistic relationship with.
Carmy cleared his throat and wiped his palms against the front of his apron.
It was best to not mention anything. After all, it would be less embarrassing for the both of you. You observed a fissure in the dark pavement and your heart thundered mercilessly against your rib cage. You couldn’t bear to look at him. You didn’t want to see the story etched out across his face.
“I better go.” You said, before holding out your ice water and rattling it, “Try putting an ice cube in your mouth next time.” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, sounding awkward to your own ears, and you mentally winced. This was entirely too personal.
“Anyway, I’ve got work to do. You’ve got work to do.” You said in a rush, “See you around.”
It was impressive – really impressive – how you managed to talk without making any eye-contact whatsoever. Your gazed danced around in the air, refusing to settle on Carmy, like a bird nervous to take flight. You didn’t give Carmy time to reply. You were already halfway around the building and practically speed-walking to meet up again with Joel at the front.
“Where were you? Where are the sandwiches?” He said upon seeing you round the corner.
“Ah, fuck! Right.” You ducked back into The Beef and shimmied past the construction workers in line.
“There she is!” Richie announced with a smile, “Where did you and Carmy go? You guys uh--” His smile turned into a smirk, and he clicked his tongue. The implication was clearer than the water stain on the ceiling tile above his head.
“Listen, I’m not judging. I mean – it’s a little fucked because we’re in the middle of lunch but I kind of respect it, you know?" Richie said with laughter in his voice.
“Yes! That is exactly what I was doing, Richie.” You interrupted dryly before he could go on a tangent and grabbed your sandwiches from the countertop. “I was having wild and completely silent sex in the alleyway.” You said mockingly.
You side-stepped an older woman and held the sandwiches, greasy wrapper included, against your chest.
Once outside, you passed Joel his sandwich. And then it hit you.
“Wait.” You scowled. “Why the fuck didn’t you get the sandwiches?” Also, there were two of them – which was grating because you didn’t order one.
“You said you’d get them.” He said frankly.
“You know what? No. Nope. You don’t deserve it.” You snatched the sandwich out of Joel’s hand. You knew of a homeless person who usually posted-up at the corner of a nearby bank. You walked off in that direction with the warm sandwiches staining grease onto the front of your shirt.
“Excuse me?” He yelled after you. You ignored him. “Hey!” You could hear his footsteps now, his strides longer than yours and catching up quick, “I paid for those.”
“I’m doing you a favor. Their food is trash.” You said, a little breathless, and Carmy’s haunted expression flashed in front of your eyes.
“Didn’t you see how they ran the place? Completely unprofessional. They have a C in the window for Christ’s sake.” You continued.
You didn’t know if the food at The Beef was good or not, but you were at your limit with Joel. He was worse than your average egomaniac Chef. He ignored your wishes, he was judgmental, and downright rude. You didn’t know what happened between Joel and Carmy, but Carmy freaked the fuck out while talking about Joel. Details be damned. Carmy’s reaction told you everything you needed to know.
“I think you’re overreacting. We need to try it.” He said, keeping pace with you, “We can’t structure our restaurant if we don’t know the other options. We’re going to be a breakfast and brunch location, but we could expand in the future.”
You were forced to stop walking at an intersection. The cars sped down the street, your hair whipped around your face, and your temper boiled over. “Stop saying ‘we’!”
Joel actually looked crestfallen.
“What? Why?”
Your eyes widened. Was he seriously this delusional? Good God. At this point, you’d take the damage to your reputation if it meant Joel was out of your life faster.
“Because I’m not hiring you.” You said coldly. “It’s not a good fit.”
“Why not?”
“Do you always question people’s decisions?” You asked with a low simmer of heat to your words. “It’s my restaurant. It belongs to me. I decide who works there. It’s not my late grandfather’s choice. It’s not my mom’s. It’s mine.”
Joel tilted forward to be eye-level with you. “You’re making a mistake. Do you know how many restaurants would beg to have me working there?”
“Great. You can work for them then.” You said unflinchingly. You caught the crosswalk signal flashing white out of the corner of your eye. “Have a nice flight back to New York.”
Joel did not follow you across the street. You found the man you were thinking of near the parking garage of the bank. He sat next to a shopping cart filled with filled plastic bags and wore a faded, grimy Chicago Cubs baseball cap. He looked at you with befuddled, watery brown eyes.
“Weird question, but I got an extra sandwich. Do you want it? And can I sit and eat with you?” You said while offering the sandwich.
“What is it?” He said gruffly. His voice was a deep timbre and ragged around the edges.
“It’s from Chicagoland Beef. It’s a hot and sweet or something.” You shrugged, “I hear it’s good.”
The man frowned a little and accepted it. “You got any cigarettes?”
You sat on the sidewalk next to him, “Yeah.”
“Can I have one?” He asked after taking a bite of his sandwich. You unwrapped your sandwich on your lap and plucked your last two cigarettes out of the pack. You wordlessly passed them over the stranger. You could buy another pack on your way home. Or you could ask Carmy again…a small, selfish, and stupid part of your brain whispered.
“God Bless you.” The man said and slid a cigarette behind each ear. You picked up the sandwich, sighed, and mentally prepared yourself to be grossly disappointed. Chicagoland Beef wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t sleek, or modern, or Instagram-worthy. It wasn’t a five-star bistro. It was a restaurant only in business due to nostalgia. The regulars kept it alive which meant it wouldn’t be good. It would be sub-par at best.
“Holy shit.” You spoke around a mouthful of beef, “Holy fucking shit. You’re kidding me.”
The man snickered and nodded. “It’s good, right?”
“It’s fucking divine.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was fucking cold the next morning which was obnoxious to contend with as you stood outside The Beef/Chicagoland. You bounced a little in place and rapt your knuckles against the glass front door. You considered going to the parking lot and knocking on the metal door, but that felt weird and intrusive. You didn’t work here. Nope. It was better to keep things super professional going forward. No more bumming cigarettes, no more fucking in the backseat, and no more terrifyingly intimate moments of shared vulnerability.
You were going to stick to your side of the street starting today.
A young Black woman wearing a colorful scarf around her head to protect her box braids answered the door with an elongated, “Hellooo?”
“H-hi. Um – is Carmy – wow this is weird. I’m not a stalker, just FYI, but is Carmy here?”
“Okay, you do realize that sounds like something a stalker would say, right?”
You snorted. “I do realize that.” You gave her your name. She twisted her lips wryly, shut the door, and left you on the chilly sidewalk.
You squinted up the sky and scattered ashen clouds dotted across a blue canvas. The eastern sunrise slashed radiant yellow-orange light through the taller buildings of Chicago. You couldn’t believe you were up this early just to ensure you talked to Carmy before the day started. Then again, it wasn’t like you slept much the night before. You spent over two hours on the phone with your mom conducting damage control after the fallout with Joel. Lucky for him – you were generously compensating him for his time and that should (in theory) reduce any hard or bitter feelings. The rest of the evening was confined to your couch and watching cooking competition shows for inspiration. You yawned behind your fist and blinked away the tired tears that blossomed.
Carmy opened the door, “Jesus, it’s cold as fuck out here.” He titled his head to the side to signal you to walk into the building. You searched his face briefly, unintentionally scanning it for any lingering anxiety, but Carmy looked as he always did - sleep deprived and worn thin. At least he was consistent.
“I’m not going to work with Joel.” You blurted, “He’s a dick.”
Carmy nodded. “Okay.” He said while wiping his hands on a white towel that was identical to the one in his other apron pocket. You chewed your lower lip. It was now or never, wasn’t it? It was time to stay on your side of the street. Your heart skipped in anticipation. Every instinct in your bones told you to say a gruff farewell and bolt from the restaurant. It was always easier to run than to admit you were wrong.
Grow up. Get over it.
“And I’m sorry I was such an asshole to you.” You looked at the framed photos on the wall instead of looking at him, “You were right, and I was being unfair.” You shrugged and the nape of your neck burned with mortification.
“You already apologized for that.” He said casually. “Truce, remember?”
Oh good. He got your note. Carmy inhaled sharply at the beginning of a thought. Your feet itched to hit the pavement at a breakneck speed. But you forced yourself to stay put and see the conversation through until the end. How was it that you could fearlessly stare down a boardroom of geriatric Viagra-popping executives and yet in front of Carmy all you wanted to do was run?
“About yesterday…” He began.
You swallowed roughly and nerves electrified across your skin.
“You know, the – uh –when I – I –“ He whispered with a cautious look over his shoulder to the kitchen.
“Freaked out?” You said softly with a pointed lift to your eyebrows.
“Yeah.”
You sensed he might thank you and you couldn’t have that happening. The various events that happened behind The Beef of Chicagoland were best if left unmentioned. Your relationship to Carmen Berzatto going forward would be impersonal. It would be professional with a capital “P”.
“Don’t worry about it.” You pressed your lips together. “Shit happens.”
You couldn’t tell if his expression was relieved or disappointed. If he wants to talk about his mental health, he can talk to a therapist. You strengthened your spine and configured your expression into perfect neutrality.
“Okay, okay. Yeah.” He blinked a few times, nodding quickly, “Well, thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” You said while giving him one of those awkward, tight-lipped smiles people do when they cross someone on the street. Really, don’t. You mentally pleaded. Your pulse thrummed bellowed your jaw. OK. It was time to leave. You knew that. He knew that. Why weren’t you saying goodbye? You inhaled shortly and parted your lips.
Marcus’ voice called your name from the kitchen, and he walked into the front of house a second later. He purposefully carried a small, paper to-go boxed container.
“Hi Marcus!” You said instead of saying farewell to Carmy. Your mood instantly buoyed. Marcus held the container out to you with a bashful, kind-hearted smile.
“This is for you.”
“What is it?” You said at the same time Carmy said, “What’s that?”
Marcus shrugged one big shoulder, “I wanted to thank you for giving me the opportunity to interview with you. I am going to stay here, though. Just so we’re clear.”
You couldn’t help but smile a little up at him. “I get it. We’re clear.” You held the little box safely against your chest in reverence. No one gave you a gift after an interview before. It was remarkably sweet. You said a quick farewell and carried the box back to your restaurant with a small, dazed smile on your face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Chef Carmy!” Ebra whispered at him. They snuck a look through the deli window when she arrived, so early in the morning, with her nose pink from the cold. Everyone in the kitchen was curious.
“Yes, Chef?” Carmy replied while rapidly chopping onions. He sniffed and wiped his nose on his shoulder.
“That was your girlfriend?” Ebra asked with an encouraging nod.
“What?” He shot him a confused, exasperated look. “No. No, man. Just – let’s focus on prep, yeah? Okay? Tina, where you at on the stock?”
“One more hour, Jeff.” Tina replied.
“Then she is Marcus’ girlfriend.” He guessed.
“Ebra – No.” Carmy stopped cutting and set his knife down, “I don’t know if she’s anyone’s girlfriend, alright? And it doesn’t matter. She just - she came by to tell me something. That was it. Can we move on. Please?”
“Marcus gave her a slice of cake and you did not get upset.”
“He –“ Carmy sighed and picked up his knife again, “We’ve got five slices all day. We’re not behind. It’s fine.”
Ebra pursed his lips and nodded solemnly. Carmy refocused on his task at hand with relief running through his veins. He didn’t want to think about you and the tender, soft expression on your face yesterday.
He didn’t want to think about the easy-going smile you gifted Marcus.
He didn’t want to think about your light perfume and sweat clinging to his skin.
He didn’t want to think about how your eyes glistened after seeing the magazine cover before you promptly blinked it away.
He didn’t want to think about the way your cigarette dangled from your plush lower lip when you first met.
He slammed his knife down with more force than necessary. Fuck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You sat alone in your pristine, sleek, and silver kitchen. Joel’s pretentious menu laid open on the counter and you set Marcus’ box beside it. Opening it revealed a layered slice of chocolate cake. You laughed lightly and grabbed a fork.
The first bite is wonderfully moist and dense with dark-chocolate flavor. A memory unfurled against your tongue and in the pockets of your cheeks. A memory of birthday parties, chasing your cousins barefoot through the grass, the happiest moments of your family were always when they came together to celebrate something or someone. You set the fork down and stare, unseeing, at the wall.
It doesn’t have to be a restaurant. It could be a bakery. This kitchen could produce cupcakes and tiered cakes with loving, creative designs. Your grandfather never owned a bakery. His business and legacy was locked into flipping old buildings and turning them into upscale dining and haute cuisine.
But fine dining wasn’t you. You didn’t want to run a business with fancy cheese brunches and raspberries imported from Spain. Your stomach twisted inside-out at the thought of it. You pushed Joel’s menu into the nearby trash and tucked your feet under the metal rung of your stool.
You lifted the container of cake and took another bite while smiling.
> Part Four (nsfw)
#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy x reader#fic: nothings gonna hurt you baby#the bear fic#carmen berzatto x reader#reader x carmy berzatto
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Go Down Together
Another drabble, I actually like this one TBH
TW: Mentions of: Parents fighting, broken bones (past tense), loss of parents, and underaged smoking and drinking
The rusted fire escape held us above the city. My head was on his lap and his hands were knitted in my hair, playing the with whatever strands he felt like. The smell of cigarettes and his cologne filled the stagnant air. It was almost hypnotizing, then again so was he. I was spending the weekend with him, my parents were fighting again. Typical of them at this point, I was so used to it that I toned it out. But Miles was always concerned about me, so here I was.
"Why'd you invite me over again?"
"Because, I'm not gonna let you spiral. That and I'm wasted, like completely fucking wasted"
We laughed. He had that effect, to make me laugh. He was such a dork.
'If we go down, we're going down together.'
That was our motto. If one of us was going to die, the other one would follow. A pact we made when we were kids. It was something we lived by, even by accident. Miles broke his arm, and a week later I was in his mom's office with my arm broken. I pulled another cigarette from the pack and heard the fwoosh of his lighter, I held the cancerous relief up to his flame and watched the dried-up plant shrivel and burn. I don't know how we were getting away with this, I guess we were just better than the law. I mean, it's not like the cops did anything. They were as useless as thumbtack against brick, I hate saying that since Miles' dad was an officer but... after his death the force really took a dive. Putting the cigarette to my lips I inhaled. The smoke burned down my lungs and torched my lungs. It was suffocating. It was delightfully suffocating. My phone lit up the bronze metal that held us as I snapped a picture of him. Even drunk off his ass. He looked like a god. My God.
#earth 42 miles morales#atsv#atsv drabble#atsv x you#miles morales#the prowler#atsv prowler#miles morales prowler#prowler miles#miles morales earth 42#earth 42 miles morales headcanons#miles 42#42!miles x reader#beyond the spiderverse#spiderman atsv#myles morales#42!miles morales x reader#spiderverse
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