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apclyptc · 7 months

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DUMB— chris sturniolo x reader

synopsis: reader is smart and top of her class in college. chris however, is not too interested in her intelligence.

warnings: full on smut, swearing and also drinking/smoking, use of the pet name baby, use of the word slut, dumbification, oral (f! receiving), unprotected sex

“hit her from the back she can’t do nothing but yell,

and she smart as fuck i got this bitch straight out of yale”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Ever since you were younger, you seemed to have a gift for memorising and holding information. Because of this, people assumed you studied constantly.

Obviously, you did study. But it wasn’t like you didn’t have a social life. You enjoyed college parties like any other person would.

So when a guy in your class invited you to his frat house for a party, of course you didn’t refuse.

The only thing was, this guy just happened to be Chris.

He was in your social studies class, usually sat at the very back with a couple of his friends in the lecture. You knew of each other, having shared mutual friends from other classes. You’d never really spoken to him one-to-one, mainly because he was always socialising with pretty much everyone, and while you weren’t shy, you also weren’t a huge fan of jumping into conversations with people who all knew each other prior.

It also didn’t help that Chris was the most attractive man you had seen in college, or maybe in your life.

You were good at hiding it, but he made you nervous. Of course, when he invited you to his fraternity house, you faked an air of confidence so you didn’t weird him out.

“Hey, it’s Y/N, right?” Chris began, and when you affirmed with a nod he continued, “I’m throwing a party tonight, you should come.” He threw a smile in your direction, and you pushed down the immediate feeling of giddiness before answering.

“Yeah sure, sounds good. When does it start?” You asked nonchalantly as you could.

“Around 10. You can come whenever, it will be on way into the morning anyway.”

“Great. Am I good to bring a couple friends?” You replied, not wanting to walk into a party alone.

“Yeah that’s fine with me. Ask your friend Lola, my buddy Nate has a thing for her. Just don’t tell him I told you that.” He smirked at you.

That smirk. You wished you could see that smirk while he was hovering over you as he sla—

“Lola, yeah! I’ll bring her along with me.” You snapped out of your less than decent reverie and gave Chris a response.

“Perfect. I’ll see you there, Y/N.” He gave a quick glance up and down your body before turning and walking away from you.

It was then you realised, you had absolutely nothing to wear. Plus, since Chris just personally asked you, you decided you may as well dress as hot as possible.

Y/N: hey lola, frat party tonight?

Lola: do u even have to ask??? usually it’s me dragging u to these things

Y/N: true lmao. i’m gonna need to borrow something from ur closet

Lola: ooooh why, do u need smth slutty?

Y/N: maybe

maybe i was personally invited by the party thrower

Lola: who

Y/N: chris 😇

Lola: GIRL-

ok ok i’ll give u the sluttiest thing i can find

come over later and we can pick something out for u

A couple of hours later once you were finished at college, you headed to your best friend Lola’s dorm.

You two had spent what seemed like hours choosing each other’s outfits.

“By the way, a little birdie told me that Nate has a thing for you.” You eyed Lola up, knowing she had a soft spot for him.

“Oh, really? That’s interesting. Totally unrelated but would you still happen to have that box of condoms I gave you for secret santa last year?” Lola gave you a suggestive look, raising her eyebrows.

“Of course. Already put two in my bag.” You both laughed.

You arrived at the party at 11:27, mainly because no one turns up to a party on time, but also because Lola took a ridiculous amount of time to get ready.

You met up with a couple of girls from the dorms opposite Lola, seeing as they were also invited.

As soon as you arrived, you were immediately shown to the kitchen where an array of bottles were displayed.

Vodka, whiskey, rum, tequila and practically any spirit you could think of, were decorated around the kitchen.

You grabbed two cups, one for you and Lola, and filled it with vodka and soda.

“Hey, I think I see Nate and Chris over there.” Lola points behind you through to the games room, where lo and behold, Nate and Chris were playing what looked like an intense game of beer pong.

The two of you walked over to them, Nate noticing you first.

“Hey! Come help me win the game, Lola.” He gestured for her to play with him.

Chris had then turned around to see you, that smirk appearing yet again.

“You gonna help me?”

You took a quick swig of the contents in your cup before joining Chris at the table.

“Atta girl. Nice of you to bring Lola for my bro.” He spoke in a low voice so that only you could hear.

“Chris, stop flirting and throw the damn ball.” Nate teased, and you felt your cheeks grow red.

Chris threw the ball into the cup closest to him, the object landing into the beer and making a splash.

“Drink up, fool.” he glanced at you to make sure you were watching.

After a while, you had enough to drink to give you a confidence boost, and were now invested in the game of beer pong.

It was down to one cup each, and you had to make the final shot.

“Come on, Y/N,” Chris spoke from behind you, “you got it.”

It was too hard to concentrate with his voice so close to your ear, and his body so close to yours. You threw the ball, but it narrowly missed the cup.

“Yes! Chris you’re a loser!” Nate laughed at his best friend across from the table, throwing his arm around Lola who had locked eyes with you as he did this.

‘Don’t forget the condom’, you mouthed to her playfully, and she winked, pointing to her pocket.

Nate and Lola had then disappeared together, leaving you alone with Chris.

“Sorry I missed the cup.” You joked.

“Apology accepted. You wanna smoke with me?” He pulled out a perfectly rolled joint from his pocket.

You weren’t a huge smoker, only joining with Lola occasionally when you felt like unwinding.

Nevertheless you agreed, deciding you may as well since you were at a party.

Chris lead you upstairs into his room. Your eyes immediately glanced around the room, taking in its appearance.

Chris sat on the edge of his bed, and you followed.

“Could you get my lighter, it’s in the top drawer over there.” He pointed to the bedside table at the wall, and you grabbed the device, passing it to him which he thanked you for.

“Lola and Nate seem to hit it off.” You spoke.

Chris held the joint between his lips, lighting it before replying, “he’s down bad for her. Has been for a while.”

You giggled to yourself, knowing Lola felt the same about him. It was a good feeling for you, because you knew Nate was a nice guy.

“They’re a good match. Nate’s a good guy for her." You responded, watching Chris take the first hit of weed and exhaling the thick smoke.

“Yeah? Is that what you’re into? Nice guys?” He asked you, taking another hit before passing it to you.

You took the joint from his hand and inhaled.

“I guess. I think I prefer someone more… unpredictable.” You had Chris in mind as you answered. You had yet to figure out why he invited you here himself, since you didn’t know each other that well.

“In what way?”

“I don’t know, someone I can’t figure out. I like to be kept on my feet, someone like Nate is easy to understand because he’s straightforward. Which is great for Lola, she deserves someone who is like that.” You thought about all the past few guys Lola had a thing with. They weren’t that nice.

You passed the joint back to Chris who had his eyes trained on you as you spoke.

“So you like the tension, not knowing when or if someone wants you.” He tried to understand.

“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice when it’s easy. But..” You trailed off.

“It’s more fun not to know.” Chris finished your trail of thought as if he knew the feeling.

“Exactly.”

A comfortable silence sat between you, passing the joint back and forth until it was gone.

“I have a question.” You asked, breaking the silence.

Chris tapped the joint out on his bedside table, and brought his attention back to you, “Go ahead.”

“Why did you invite me here? I mean, it’s not that I didn’t want to come, it’s just that we haven’t really talked much.” You asked, needing to know.

Chris chuckled.

“I thought it was more fun not to know?” He smirked, using your own logic against you.

“Come on! Tell me.” You persisted.

Chris leaned in closer to you, and you could swear your heart was beating out of your chest.

“I always see you in class,” He began to explain, continuing to close the gap between you, “sitting close to the front, answering all the questions. You’re pretty smart, aren’t you?”

The tension was palpable, and you felt yourself grow wetter as his low voice penetrated your ears.

“I want an answer.” He demanded.

“I- I guess so.” Your voice wavered, all of a sudden finding it hard to speak.

“I’ve always wanted to see how long it takes until I can make you speechless.”

And it surely didn’t take long, because in moments his lips were on yours.

It was as if every guy you had dated never existed, the feeling of Chris kissing you overrode any experience you had thus far.

His left hand rested on the back of your neck while his other hand took the opportunity to roam around your body, from your thighs to your chest, until it landed on your waist.

Your hands swiftly made their way to his arm and hair, while deepening the kiss he had started.

In a quick movement he lifted you onto his lap, letting both his hands find purchase on your waist.

With your arms wrapped around his neck, you slowly moved your hips rhythmically, earning a soft grunt from him.

Pulling away, he spoke, “You want to do this?”

You nodded, before asking the same of him.

“Do you?”

That same smirk that sent you reeling reappeared again.

“Does this answer your question?” He grinded his hips upwards into you, allowing you to feel his growing hard-on.

A whine escaped from your lips.

“No more talking.”

You reconnected your lips to his, the energy of the room turning into heated passion.

Chris’ hands slowly dragged down to your ass, kneading them with roughness.

You whined again, unable to stop any sounds from leaving your mouth.

The sound of the ongoing party downstairs could be faintly heard from inside the room, but you paid it no mind. You couldn’t, not while Chris had all his attention on you.

He briefly paused to take off the top you were wearing, and then resumed with his skilled tongue, sliding against yours. He took you off his lap, not separating from you for a moment as he laid you down on your back.

“Such a smart girl in class,” he pulled his shirt over his head and threw it behind him, “Does anyone know that you’re really just a little slut?” He kissed your neck, then your jaw.

“I need an answer.” Chris demanded again, and you rubbed your thighs together in want.

“No.” You breathed.

“No, what?” His hand glided up your thigh, separating them.

“I’m not a slut.” You managed to find words.

“So if I reach in between your legs, right now, you won’t be dripping for me?”

You knew you were.

A hand snaked through your skirt, pulling aside your underwear, and he slowly dragged a finger down your pussy.

“I’ve barely touched you. Do you want me to? Want me to touch you right here?” His finger, coated in your slickness, inched its way inside, just enough for you to feel it, but not enough to satisfy you.

You bucked your hips up, trying to feel something, anything.

But Chris pulled his hand away, causing you to whine in frustration.

Luckily for you, he wanted to feel you so badly, he couldn’t tease you for long. He grabbed the hem of your skirt, pulling it down your legs and threw it in the same direction as his shirt.

“I want to hear you. You love opening that mouth when we’re in class.” And with that, he pulled your underwear aside and attached his mouth straight to your throbbing clit.

All you could do was moan and writhe in his bed as he delved into your wet cunt, licking up all the arousal like a starved man.

Your hands flew to his hair, tugging on it desperately. The vibrations from the groan that left his mouth sent waves of pleasure tearing through your body.

Chris’ hands dug into the flesh of your thighs as they instinctively tried to close around his head.

“Fuck, right there!” You moaned loudly as his tongue dove inside your hole.

One of his hands left your thigh and drew circles on your clit, causing you to arch your back at the white-hot pleasure you felt from his ministrations.

Chris could feel his dick pulsate through his pants at the sounds you were making. He needed to feel you.

“You want me to fuck you, huh? Fill you up good?” He asked, and you knew by now he wanted an answer.

“Please, please, please.” Were the only words you could muster, too high on the feeling Chris had given you with his mouth.

He wasted no time on giving you what you were begging for, quickly discarding his pants and boxers, along with your bra and soaked panties.

Lining himself up with your entrance, he slid his dick over the slick of your pussy and pushed the tip in.

Your eyes had shut in anticipation, but when he made no attempt to move you opened your eyes to look at him.

He had waited until you made eye contact with him before pushing his entire dick inside you.

You both moaned at the full feeling, your walls contracting around him.

After a few seconds, Chris began to move.

Thrusting in and out at a slow pace as if to torture you, he shuddered, revelling in the feeling of your tight cunt.

“Fuck, feels so good baby.” You whined at the pet name, bringing his face down so you could kiss him again.

He started picking up the pace after this, your tongues smashing together in absolute need.

“Faster, faster.” You babbled, drunk off the sensation of his cock piston in and out of you.

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you dumb?” He grunted, loving how you could barely string full sentences together.

“Yes, yes, please. Need you deeper.”

The dirty words spilling from your mouth caused him to moan, and he flipped you onto all fours.

“Wanna see that pretty little ass bounce while I fuck you.” He muttered as he entered you yet again.

His pace was relentless, his balls slapping against you from the way he was pounding deep inside you.

You were just making sounds as you tried to say “Harder, faster, more,” but the words couldn’t form properly.

“The slut wants more? Can’t even speak but you’re begging for more?” He taunted you from behind.

You felt a sharp slap on your ass, followed by a soothing rub directly after. You practically yelled as Chris’ hand came down, your cunt convulsing.

“Knew you’d like that,” he slapped your cheek again, “Can feel you squeezing around me.”

You could feel the knot in your stomach unraveling, and you knew you wouldn’t last longer.

“Chris, gonna cum.” You managed to speak between moans.

“Come on baby, need you to cum while I’m inside you.” He groaned, trying to hold his own release off.

His words guided you right to your orgasm, shaking and crying while you came.

“Fuck, you want my cum inside you? Want me to stuff you full?” His pace was losing rhythm, chasing his orgasm while simultaneously overstimulating you.

“Mm, cum inside me. Want to feel it.” You cried, thrusting into him so you could feel more of him.

“So good, feels so good. Oh, I’m gonna cum inside of you,” Chris rambled, “Gonna fill you up with it.”

His moans were uncontrollable, spilling out of him as he relished in the warm feeling of your pussy.

“Cumming.” He grunted, as ropes of his cum spurted out, coating your insides until there was nothing left.

You both took the time to catch your breath, as Chris pulled out of you with a shaky sigh.

“Let me get you a towel.”

You turned onto your back once more, trying to comprehend the mind blowing sex you just had while dozens of people were partying downstairs.

Chris came back with a towel, cleaning the both of you up and passing you your underwear back.

“Hey.” You finally spoke, tired from all the stamina you had just burned.

“Hey.” He replied back to you.

“That was… amazing.” You sighed.

“Yeah, it was fun.”

You weren’t sure if he wanted you to leave now, or if you were supposed to stay, so you opted to do nothing.

“Let me take you on a date.” He announced, and you laughed.

“Don’t you think we’ve done this all a little backwards?”

Chris smiled and brought your head to his shoulder.

“I guess I’m just unpredictable.”

You then remembered you didn’t even use the condom you brought with you. You’d have to make your first date with Chris a trip to the pharmacy.

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a/n haha…. always wear a condom, kids!

hope you enjoyed my first oneshot.

send me any requests you want me to write! i think i’m gonna do an nsfw alphabet next, for chris and matt too

#Spotify #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo oneshot

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too-much-tma-stuff · 2 months

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Finally Getting Help (prt. 10)

Mastterpost

A/N: Thank you all for the well wishes about my dog. Unfortunately he didn't make it and pass away Tuesday morning in the vet's office. I was able to get some writing done but I don't have the energy to edit. Let me know if you find any mistakes.

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Jason: hey, thanks for the gun and the tech, it's really cool.

Danny: new phone who dis 😝

Jason: I hope you haven't given too many people guns in the last couple days.

Danny: no I haven't, thanks for texting me Jason. Have you got a chance to try the gun?

Jason: not on anything moving, I've been doing some target practice to get a feel for it though. Looking forward to when I can test it on Vlad.

Danny: aww are you going to avenge my honor 🥺

Jason: if you want me too. I'll bring you his head if you want me too.

Danny: 🥰 you're so sweet. I wouldn't say no to seeing him suffer for what he's done but don't get yourself in any trouble okay? And if you do call me right away. I'll come rescue you 😘

Jason: hey I'm the one offering to protect you!

Danny: we can protect each other. And fight each other, can you come spar again soon?

Jason: I wouldn't call that sparring, more like brawling.

Danny: eh potato potato, do you want to come fight me again?

Jason: if demon brat won't kill me for it, sure. Can I take you out for dinner afterwards? I have some questions

Danny: It's a date! Just tell me when

Jason: Day after tomorrow? I have some work to take care of first.

Danny: Sounds great! And it is a date right? You don't mind that I'm going to have kids?

Jason: the kids aren't a deal breaker I promise but let's not jump the gun okay? We're going to be family through B so we don't want this to blow up in our faces. Let's hang out, take it slow, see how it goes. You need to be careful about who you let into your life now anyway, you can't just let anyone around you and the babies.

Danny: don't tell me what to do 😠 but you're right. I'm bad about rushing into things. I'm still looking forward to it.

Danny: By the way Jazz uploaded the power point she made about Liminals and Ghosts to the bat’s server thing. You have access to that right? You should read that before we meet and I can fill in the gaps.

Jason: Sounds good, I’ll have a look at it and I’m looking forward to it too. I'll be there at 5 so we can spar before dinner. Don't forget to warn B and your guard dog.

Danny: Damian is a good kid. I'll let them know.

Danny stared at his new phone Tim had given him with apprehension. The chat with Jason had gone very well, and Danny was glad he reached out but there were other people he really needed to reach out to and he was… frankly scared. Sam and Tucker were his best friends and had always been there for him but they both had tempers. Would they be mad that he hadn’t told them he was pregnant? Would they be upset he had left Amity and wasn’t planning on coming back?

He needed to reach out though, the longer he waited the harder it would be to talk to them, and things wouldn’t stay calm as they were now. Vlad would be back to cause trouble again and even though the JLD had control of the portal but he was sure his rogues would find their way through eventually. Vlad had his own portal anyway, and Danny wouldn’t put it past him to open it just to annoy Danny. Maybe try and weaken him a little so Vlad could swoop in and pick him off.

Today was quiet, he needed to take this chance. He sighed and got up off the edge of his bed where he was sitting and ducked out of his room. He didn’t want to do this alone, so he wasn’t surprised when he found himself in the library where Jazz was studying.

He sat down across from her and reached across, laying his hand, palm up on the table. Without looking up from her book she reached over and placed her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiled at her and took a deep breath before putting on his earbuds and sending a message in the group chat.

Danny: When you guys are ready can we call?

Jazz phone went off too and she checked it, smiled at Danny, and then silenced the chat and went back to her book. She didn’t need to be part of this call but at least she knew what he was doing.

Sam: Yes, let me just grab Tuck. He’s playing Doomed.

Danny took a deep breath and put down his phone while he waited for them to call and tried not to panic.

When the phone buzzed he jumped and reached for it, joining the call quickly.

“Hey guys,” He said, awkwardly, waving with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone.

“Hey yourself! What the heck happened Danny?! Basically the whole town joined in in chasing Vlad when we found out what he did but why did we have to find out on tv?! Why didn’t you tell us?!” Sam said, but at least she just seemed stressed, not actually angry.

“I’m sorry guys,” Danny said, wincing a little when he heard Tucker sniffling a little. “I hadn’t told anyone yet. I hadn’t even fully accepted it yet honestly.

“I still wasn’t ready to talk about it, bur Cass is really good at reading people's body language and I guess she clocked that I was carrying them by how I kept unconsciously touching my stomach. When she asked me about it it sorta broke through my denial and I broke down which started the ball rolling on… all this,” He said with a vague gesture.”

“All this is right!The justice league really brought the hammer down on Amity. They’re dismantling the GIW and really pissed at the government and basically all the adults in the town for letting this happen. And they arrested your parents!” Sam said sounding almost excited.

“Sam! That was really insensitive! They’re still his parents, what if he didn’t know!?” Tucker broke in furiously.

“No it’s alright I knew, Jazz told me. She’s here with me,” He said squeezing her hand though she wasn’t paying attention to the call.

“Okaaay so where is Here?” Tucker asked warily.

“Ya are you safe? We haven’t seen you since all this went down! Are you really with Bruce Wayne?” Sam asked sounding wary.

“Yes I am. He’s got a foster license and since his kids were the one that found out what was going on it just made sense that I’d stay here.”

“And he’s Not another Fruitloop?” Sam asked warily. “You need to be careful with these rich people you know? They’re basically all crazy!”

“Sam you’re rich,” Danny pointed out, amused.

“Ya, and? My point stands!”

“Fair enough,” Danny laughed. “But no, I did some snooping the first night I was here and it seems okay. And since he’s got close ties to the Justice League he was able to get the help we really needed, and he says he might be able to help me meet Martian Manhunter!”

“Don’t fanboy out too bad,” Tucker teased him.

“Oh ya? And what if I helped you meet Tim Drake? Would you not be just as bad,” Danny accused Tucker.

“Touche,” Tucker said. “Could you though?”

“I mean maybe? He’s my foster brother now and he seems cool. You two are my best friends, if I’m going to stay I’m sure you could come visit me and meet all of them.”

“Are you really going to stay there though? I mean once the GIW and everything is cleared out you could stay with either of us. I know my parents aren’t your biggest fans but I know they’d let you stay,” Sam said sounding worried.

“And I know my family doesn't have a ton of money but they adore you, we’d make it work,” Tucker added looking worried.

“No, guys I really appreciate the offer but… I don’t want to come back to Amity. The Justice League said they shut down the portal and I really need a fresh start I think. I think I’d rather stay here. Jazz too, she’s gonna study at Gotham U and intern at Arkham,” He said. She looked up at the mention of her name and gave him a small smile.

“I’m sorry, you guys are my best friends and I’ll miss you, but there are too many… memories in Amity you know?”

“Ya I get that,” Sam said, looking sad and distant.

“We can still call, and play Doomed together, and visit on breaks!” Tucker said, his chipper tone sounding a little forced. “We’re going to say friends!” He insisted and Danny smiled.

“Of course we will Tuck,” He promised. They might grow apart with the distance between them, but he hoped not, they really were his best friends.

“Ya, my parents will probably be thrilled about this development and want me to come over all the time. They love the Waynes,” Sam chuckled though her optimism also seemed a bit forced. Of course she was more of a pessimist, she probably thought they would drift apart, but knew Danny needed them right now.

“Soo what’s been going on in Amity since I left?” Danny asked, letting them ramble about the drama, the rumours, and the bullshit that was the bullies and everyone in the school sudden;y pretending they cared about Danny soooo much.

After they finished telling him about it there were a few beats of silence and Danny was just about to suggest they hang up when Sam spoke up again.

“So, what actually happened with Vlad? If you don’t want to talk about it that’s okay but…”

“No, it’s okay. It’s not what- what you’d think. It’s superhero bullshit really. When I wouldn’t be his son he decided to try and clone me, you met Dani with an I right? She was one of the clones. But he didn’t know I was trans, and my DNA got all fucked up in the portal so none of the clones were stable. I have no idea how many he tried to make that died. But when I found out it was because he had lied to Dani and told her he needed me to stabilize her clone brothers. It was a batch of ten.

“But he lied, he didn’t actually care about stabilizing them, he was going to let them all die. I was only able to save the two that were most stable and only by taking their cores into myself. So I’m not normal pregnant, I’m ghost pregnant.

What is my life huh?” He finished, chuckling awkwardly.

“Oh fuck,” Sam said her shoulders slumping a little even as her expression went through a range of emotions. “That’s better in a way but still a whole different type of fucked up! I hope they catch him soon.”

“I hope so too but I don’t think they will,” Danny said with a shrug. “Not before he tries something else. I’m not lucky enough to be able to just move past this,” He said with a bitter little laugh.

“Well, we can still hope. And even if he does cause trouble you have more allies now! You’ve been able to handle everything else he’s thrown at you basically on your own, with the Justice League behind you I know there’s nothing you can’t handle. I mean, Vlad is kind of pathetic anyway,” Tucker encouraged making Danny smile.

“Ya, you’re right, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Thanks guys,” he said fondly.

“Of course dude! We’re here for you!” Tucker said.

“It’s really good to hear from you too. Don’t be a stranger okay?” Sam said, a bit worried.

“Of course not, I’ll keep you posted I promise.” Danny assured before they said their goodbyes and he hung up.

He put down his phone and leaned back with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. Next to him Jazz chuckled and there was a soft snap as she closed her book.

“You did well little brother,” She told him, getting up from her seat she moved behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders.

“How do you know? You weren’t listening.”

“No, but you reached out to your friends and had an honest conversation which isn’t easy. You did well,” She reiterated, squeezing his shoulders.

“Well thanks Jazz. I hope that they’re right that we won’t lose touch, and I’ll be able to handle whatever Vlad does,” He grumbled.

“I’m sure we will,” Jazz promised. “And either way there’s no point in worrying about it now. Has Jason texted you yet?” She asked, giving Danny the excuse he needed to change the subject and launch into his more petty worries about the upcoming date as she sat back down to listen.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dead on main #jason todd #danny fenton #jazz fenton #damian wayne #sam manson #tucker foley #trans!danny #Danny is pregnant #finally getting help au #bad parents jack and maddie #Vlad is a creep

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goatlottin · 4 months

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my winner

in which you surprise your winner after his match. in turn, he surprises you.

genre: fluff

a/n: this is actually so short i really thought i wrote sm more but!! i miss writing so hopefully this brings me back x enjoy!

inspired by rwmsdale

You texted Kylian around 7 to let him know you would probably come by. You unfortunately had piles of work to complete, and couldn't attend his home match today and instead chose to just wait for him until he got home.

You two didn't live together. Yet. Kylian died to have you be here all the time. He always felt happiest with you, and he believes he's the most entitled to absolutely all your spare time you have.

On the other hand, you sometimes enjoyed the quiet space of your home. And still wanted time to thing about it.

As you waited up for him, you had tried to fight the tiredness, but it got difficult and you ended up passing out on the couch. At least you could say you tried!

As predicted, Kylian ended up getting home just after 10.

His smile from ear to ear, his PSG tracksuit and small bag in hand. It was a sight to see. After the win, he thought he would come home to you, celebrate for a bit, then head to bed. To his dismay, you had done that last part without him.

He noticed the disorganized array of books and notebooks lying on the small lamp-side table. Likely your last minute studying you cramped in.

His smile faded as he opened the door to a fast asleep girlfriend that he assumed had been here waiting for him. As he shut the door behind him, you startled awake.

He couldn't pretend he wasn't just the tiniest bit happy about it. He knew he would now have that long awaited bit of time with you.

As you began to sit up, he quickly ushered towards you.

"It's okay baby, stay there." He kicked off his shoes as he placed his belongings on the couch adjacent to the one you resided on, opting for cleaning it tomorrow morning.

He found a position that was comfortable beside you while he placed an arm under your head, urging your head to tilt upwards to him. You both looked into each other's eyes. Him, into your sleep ones, you, to his glassy, brown ones.

You brought your hand up to touch his face. He leaned into your touch, and turned to kiss the inside of your palm. "What a lovely surprise to have the most beautiful girl cuddled up with me right now."

You blushed a rosy tone. You found you always had this rosy blush to you anyways. Given your boyfriend had a way with words that always seemed to turn you into mush.

"Had to be there for my winner." You replied, rubbing your right hand up and down his chest affectionately.

You moved your movements to his face, that was begging to be shaved. His face filled with small stubble.

"Did you enjoy the match?"

"I enjoyed your goal, of course. Fell asleep right after."

He threw his head bad lightly in a fit of laughter, grazing your cheek with the thumb of the hand that still had a grip on your face. "Nice goal though, hmm?"

"I mean, I guess so." You teased

He rolled his eyes, immediately understanding you were playing around "You guess'? What can I do better, coach?" Kylian's nose found his way to your neck, where he left small kisses.

"Well, I think you can try practicing more fre-" you were interrupted by a small love bites just right to your collarbone. "Stop! I can-" he continued his assault of kisses while you giggled.

You wrapped your hands around his neck while he lifted his head to reach your gaze once more.

"Should we order in? You must be hungry." you questioned. "Or shall I cook?" deep down, the two of you knew you were an awful chef. Not only were you terrible, but the food was actually sometimes inedible.

However, sometimes you loved being oblivious. Still offering the service to Kylian.

"Let's not waste ingredients, chérie. I'll grab my phone." Leaving one last kiss on your cheek, he jumped off the couch to locate his phone.

After you guys had finished eating, you sat beside each other at the coffee table. It was quiet, but you both sat there enjoying each other’s company, no words needing to be said.

Kylian sat his fork on the plate before stacking both his and yours. “Can I ask you something?” He suddenly turned to you.

“Anything.” Fixing your posture, you turned to face him.

“Why don’t you move in here?”

The question threw you off guard. You guys did talk about this before. But briefly. Ending on a “maybe when things are more serious” note. But that was almost a year ago. Needless to say, things were definitely more serious.

“I love having you here. You just being here after my match, to greet me, even though you were asleep! It felt so… natural. I want it like that everyday. I’m so in love with you, and I can’t help but feel I need to be with you all the time.

“Your books sprawled out like that? I want that for us. I want this to be a place you call home as well.”

You were in awe at his words. Knowing how passionate he was not just about you moving in but the overall relationship.

You were so, so incredibly lucky to have him.

He took ahold of both your hands once he saw your hesitance. Looking into your eyes with such pleading but proud eyes.

“I don’t know Ky. It’s a big step. Are you sure you always want me around?” You tried to make light of the serious situation by throwing in a joke. You were actually terrified for this step.

“I genuinely do not think that’s possible, hon. Like, at all, ever possible.”

“Okay, but what if you realize I’m too messy? Or what if family are over and I’m being overbearing? And some of the colours in this house are really..”

“Baby,” he interrupted with a breathy laugh. “I would love to have that mess here everyday. You’re part of my family, and you have my utmost permission to change whatever you would like in this house.” He brought one of your knuckles forward to leave it a kiss. “Please,”

You decided that these were just one of those things you knew in your chest. You trusted Kylian with everything in you. And wanted this change, you realized.

You nodded before he fell on top of you into a hug.

#football fluff #kylian mbappe fluff #football #kylian x reader #kylian x you #psg #kylianmbappe #mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe dilf #mbappe fanfic #mbappe headcanon #mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x reader #france #fc barcelona

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strongheartneteyam · 2 months

Text

I wet you like water but she stained you like blood.

Pairing: widowed!dilf!jake sully x younger!female!human!reader

CW: slight sexual language, can be triggering to some, heartbreak, age gap kink, hurt/no comfort, age gap relationship problems, angst, reader reminiscing (pls tell me if I missed anything)

So, yeah... I never know when I'm gonna come back with another writing. My hiatus n working periods are all a bit unpredictable lol sorry. Anyways... I literally spent the whole night awake n I was struck by a sudden lightning of creativity early in the morning and I edited this chapter n wrote a bit more, but I still haven't slept at all, so, I apologize if some parts of this make no sense at all. I'll fix it when I can. Hope you guys like it <3 ily guys a whole lot :)) obs: this chapter is a shorter one.

Slightly proofread.

Chapter 4 𓆩♡𓆪

They say all's well that ends well

But I'm in a new hell every time you double-cross my mind

You said if we had been closer in age maybe it would've been fine

And that made me want to die

The idea you had of me, who was she?

A never-needy, ever-lovely jewel whose shine reflects on you

All Too Well - 10 minutes Version (Taylor Swift)

𓆩♡𓆪

It had been 1 year since the last time you saw Jacob Sully. Or Jakey, like you used to call him. The wound never healed. It still throbbed and bled every time you remembered the words he told you that dreadful day. "I think we should stop seeing each other." It felt like you would never get over him. How can one get over such an overpowering, raw feeling? He marked you forever, like a bruise that seemed to never disappear from your skin.

The flashback came like thunder in a storm, haunting your thoughts with a loud pain that echoed through your mind. What you told Jake that night.

“The truth is I love you. The truth is I can't take this anymore. I'm giving you my everything but you don't seem to be doing the same. You're still guarded.” There was a tense period of silence “Jake… I love you. But I don't think you feel the same.”

Maybe you shouldn't have said anything. Maybe if you had kept your mouth shut, he would still be with you.

Ugh!! Stop that, now, (y/n)! Some self love, please? You're better than this. You deserve better.

You tried to convince yourself of that, at least.

The pain was unbearable at times and almost easy to conceal at other times. It depended on how distracted with work or your studies you were. These days you ran to any distraction that could ease the perpetual angst that squeezed your heart inside its hands all the fucking time. It had been like that ever since Jake left you. What were you expecting anyway? You should have known you were never truly loved by Jake. The love of his life was Neytiri and it would always be, alive and walking through Pandora or dead and with Eywa.

It felt beyond weird to have to hear people talking about Jake and have to pretend he was a stranger to you, someone you barely knew, when he had actually left a mark so strong on you, a memory ingrained in your brain, a feeling, a pain buried inside your heart that made you want to scream and hit your head against a wall. That's how much it hurt.

You would never have his body against yours again, warming you up when it was cold, after you spent the whole day in that damn lab, studying Pandoran plants but all you could really concentrate on was how much you missed his reassuring, protective presence. He made you feel safe for the first time in your life. But now he is gone. Just like every single good thing you ever had in your life. But you know what? Maybe your mother was right, maybe love wasn't really something that could ever last forever.

Did Jake ever really make a real effort to be with you? Thinking back, it was extremely easy for him to just come to you and fuck you anytime he felt sad and lonely. What if you had just been a naive, dumb girl all this time? Were you mourning a love that never actually

existed? It was always so hard to talk to him about his feelings for you, he never actually let you in, to be honest. All the time you two spent together, you were never able to know if he ever saw you as a partner or just a fuck buddy.

Oh, but the high… it was worth all the lows. The butterflies in your stomach every time you guys were almost caught fucking in the back of your work room by Norm. Eventually you guys had to tell him about your situationship because, oh well… he already knew what was going on, really. Norm is not a fool or a child. He could add 2 plus 2.

The adrenaline was worth all the tears. And, fuck… you would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

𓆩♡𓆪

Taglist:

@aonungsoneandonly

@coldbabyheroin

@fairyyrosee

@myh3artttt

@explosiongamora

@ufiy

@yeosxxx

@happyyappysworld

@avatar4eva

@henhouse-horrors

@jakesullyfatjuicypeen

@fujimoribaby

@layla2-49

@zoetrope1997

@yeosxxx

@luvv4j4ybe11

@bakugouswaif

@slytherdor01

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tired-teacher-blog · 7 months

Text

Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11

_ "Good evening Miss."

_ "Uh.. yes, yeah good evening!" did your voice just waver as you returned the man's greeting?

It did, didn't it? Why else would he let out a chuckle while his eyes are lingering on your clumsy hands struggling to lock your shop's front door?

_ "Need any help with that?" his smile slowly disappears as he notices your battle against the entrance lock.

_ "Oh no it's fine I got it! Thanks anyway, good night." and with that, you flee the scene after yet another awkward encounter with the tattoo artist whose parlor just happens to be facing your own shop.

Aizawa Shouta, the man in question, is an intriguing guy.

His ink covered arms— coming to light each time he decides to roll his sleeves or wear a t-shirt, probably hint at more hidden art behind the garment.. his long raven locks that usually sit beautifully on his broad shoulders, are flowing gracefully around his face.. the dark circles under his eyes have never been a surprise to you since his working hours start really late every evening.

However, that harsh exterior does not reflect his personality at all, you're certain of it, and even though your short exchanges have never gone beyond the polite greetings and stolen gazes, something about this man simply mesmerized you..

Who is he anyway? What is his story? Why does he only come to work late when everyone else is heading home?

These questions have been plaguing your brain ever since you met the mysterious guy a few months ago, you've always wanted to know more about him, to befriend him, to have a meaningful conversation, to stand closer to him, to touch..

_ "No! This is not it!" you slap your face with a wince of pain as you snap back to reality, you are daydreaming about the handsome man once again instead of focusing on work.

You flip through the countless search results as you struggle to make a decision, "which one should I get?" it is honestly a big deal.. a commitment.

Getting a tattoo is a matter of great importance, even more so when the person branding your skin is the same one taking over your every waking moment.

_ "I don't like any of these." you mumble irritatedly as you couldn't feel any connection to the art suggested.

Maybe it isn't a good idea after all, do you actually want to get a tattoo? Or is it just a ruse to get closer to.. to him?

You place your phone away and welcome your new costumer with a smile, "good morning Sir!"

Work comes first anyway, everything else should wait till later, it has to..

_ "Here you go! Red roses are the perfect gift, they represent love, passion, beauty, courage and respect, so I'm sure your wife will love them."

The man's eyes light up and his cheerful smile grows wider as he hears you reciting the devine meaning behind his choice, he pays for his purchase and thanks you again before walking out of your shop.

_ "A red rose?" you utter thoughtfully as your eyes study the beautiful flowers before you.

Love, passion, beauty, courage and respect.

Fitting.. although it might seem tacky to some, but if you are to have something inked into your skin, then it has to be meaningful and so, your mind is finally set, "I'll have a red rose."

You take a deep breath and look through your giant glass window at the closed tattoo parlor across the street, "I'll see you tonight, Mr Aizawa."

It is as regular as clockwork— your daily encounter with the dashing man, you are locking your shop's front door when you hear him unlocking his own, and as regular as clockwork your eyes meet and you exchange your daily greeting, except this isn't all that happened tonight, because unlike your usual habit of turning around and walking home, you are advancing towards the man who doesn't seem surprised to see you approaching.

_ "Tattoo, I mean, can I get one?" your cheeks heat up instantly while hearing yourself speak, you're being as awkward as always around him, and wish to disappear right this instant.

_ "Oh.. yeah sure, this is what I do after all," his chuckle is intoxicating, and his silky hair glides elegantly as he cocks his head to the side, "why don't you come in first?"

You have never realized it before, but now that you are standing near each other, he is towering over you, it's almost intimidating to be frank, if not for the gentle smile that seems even more dazzling from up close.

You are right, he truly is beautiful.

_ "My assistant should be here in a minute, but in the meantime I'll take care of you," he offers you a seat at the reception desk before removing his jacket and joining you, "this is a first for you am I right?"

_ "What makes you say that?" is it obvious how ordinary you are?

_ "Well, usually people call to schedule an appointment beforehand, some of them even visit my studio and bombard us with questions to make sure they can trust us with their bodies, but you.." he stops for a moment to clear his throat and shift his gaze from you, "you're something else."

Is that a little blush he's so desperately trying to conceal? No it can't be, you're delirious like usual, and being in a close proximity to him is playing with your mind.

_ "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have barged in unannounced, I'll make sure to do it properly and call for an appointment," you're on the verge of tears as you stand up and bow your head apologetically, "good night Sir."

_ "What? Hey hold on! Don't go," he's fast at intercepting you, grabbing your arm and pulling you back gently, "please don't go."

His grip remains on you, a perfect pressure applied, as if he's afraid you would disappear if he lets go, and you would have.

He's standing close, so close, closer than he did earlier, and you can feel his warm breath fanning over your skin, his beautiful smile is replaced with a little pout, his dark hair falls around his face and you almost.. almost reach out to tuck the loose strands behind his ear.

How long have you been standing there, looking into each other's eyes and saying nothing? Apparently long enough for his assistant to burst out laughing after walking in and finding you in that state.

_ "Good evening boss! Sorry for being late but you know how traffic is at this hour." her eyes move between you two, and her amused smirk hints at something that you cannot -for the life of you- understand.

You return the lively woman's greeting and take a step back, you are still going to leave anyway, despite the inexplicable desire to stay.

_ "Ms Kayama, would you mind passing my seven o'clock client to Hizashi? Also Oboro is running late as usual so would you please give him a call? Aizawa speaks to his assistant while keeping his attention on you.

_ "Sure boss, you can count on me." you cannot understand the reason of her mischievous smile, nor why she looked at you while saying that.

_ "Thank you."

Your blush is reaching your ears and a storm of emotions is fighting within you as you prepare to interject and perhaps save yourself from further embarrassment, but he is quicker to speak, "please have a seat." his voice as soft as ever while waiting for you to do so.

_ "Yes, thank you." and so you do.

He pulls out a chair for himself across from you before picking up a notbook that was already placed on the desk in front of him, "shall we begin?"

You shoot up all of a sudden as it finally hits you, "I.. I'm.." you stutter almost inaudibly, squeezing your fists so hard to stop from shaking, you aren't sure about this anymore, maybe you've made a mistake barging in like that with the pretence of getting a tattoo when all you actually want is to see him.

_ "Is everything okay?" he must've felt your uncertainty towards it since he instantly stood in front of you, his warm hands on each of your shoulders, rubbing soothing patterns while anticipating your response.

_ "I'm sorry I'm just, a little nervous." saying those words is more painful than any needles he could use on you, you feel pathetic, squeezing your eyes shut and wishing you're home alone instead of this.

Maybe you should forget about the whole thing and just leave, you've already made a fool of yourself enough for one evening, what else is there for you to do?

_ "That's fine, having second thoughts is totally normal considering that it would be your first time going through the experience, besides, there are some preparations to go through before getting to the actual thing," his eyes are gazing gently at you as he speaks, "let's take it step by step, and if you ultimately decide against it then we'll stop."

You cannot understand his behavior, he isn't laughing at you, isn't mocking you like you've expected, he isn't even showing an ounce of impatience. Who is he? Trully? And why is everything about him just.. flawless?

You nod slowly and take your seat again, a wave of goosebumps is running up your spine at the loss of his touch.

_ "Alright, so tell me, do you have a design in mind? If not I can help you choose, and it should help if you have a theme in mind." he starts right as he sits facing you.

_ "Oh no that's fine, I already know what I want," you answer quickly before pulling out your phone and showing him the single rose you settled on, "I want this.. this red rose."

He takes the device from your extended hand, studying the picture displayed before letting out a chuckle that travels right through your veins, "I like it, it's soft and pretty, just like you," he comments casually before adding, "what size are you thinking?"

_ "Huh? Umm.. I'm not sure but, I would prefer it to be small, I guess..." you're not even sure of the words leaving your mouth anymore as his previous remark sways you, soft.. pretty.

What is he doing to you? Is it perhaps a part of his job to sweet talk his clients? Yeah, that must be it, why else would he do it?

_ "It's okay we'll circle back to that later, now for the placement, where would you want it to be? This can actually help you determine the size better if you're still unsure about that." his smile never leaves him as he speaks, and for a brief moment your delusions lead you to believe that it could mean more than a friendly smile, but it doesn't, and you know it.

_ "I'm not sure about that either," you feel stupid, it is your first time walking into a tattoo studio sure, but you should've been more prepared.

He remains quiet for a bit and you're struggling to understand what he's thinking, your heart is hammering painfully in your chest as you wait silently for him to reply.

He isn't smiling anymore, infact, the look on his face has turned into one of pensiveness, his lips are sealed in a thin line and his head is tilted to the side, and it is becoming unbearable for you to sit there and wait any longer, it's humiliating.

You open your mouth to speak, to -perhaps- apologize for making his work harder than it should, for being so stupid as to make him dump his work on his colleagues so he could take care of you for the evening, you're trying to speak but don't know how to start exactly, settling for hanging your head in shame instead.

_ "Hey look up," his voice is as soft as ever, "I told you not to worry about it didn't I? Tattoos are not an easy commitment to make."

His chair squeaks as he clearly stands up, circuling the desk until he's mere centimeters from you, the subtle sweetness of his sandalwood scented cologne is tickling your nose as he leans closer.

_ "I'll tell you what, how about I make a sketch of the design tonight, and you can drop by tomorrow to have a look at it, I have what I need for now, so take the night to think more about the placement," his eyes are studying your tense frame as he adds, "and remember, you don't have to go through with it, I'll book your session for tomorrow, same time as today, but you can cancel it whenever you want."

You're overcame with a sudden urge to jump in his arms, and for the nth time that evening you are grateful for the secrecy of your own thoughts as you nod in agreement, "thank you that would be great, but, we haven't talked about the payment yet."

_ "You'll find everything you need stated on our website." he replies while handing you his business card.

You thank him again and bid him goodbye before walking out of the studio that is -unbeknown to you- getting busier and louder.

To be continued..

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carmyboobear · 1 month

Text

ALEXITHYMIA CH 5: detergent, thrifting, and cake

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader

Chapter Rating: T (11k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I try. What’s the occasion?”

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

“Oh, okay.”

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

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

“Is it your birthday today?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” they reply quickly.

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

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

“So, uh, is that a yes, or…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . . . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No way. I didn’t say shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For some reason, that makes Richie laugh.

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

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

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

“Y’think so?”

“I do. You?”

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

“Friend. Sure.” Richie snorts.

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

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

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

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

“You're strangely full of wisdom today.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shitty parents club,” Carmy repeats hollowly.

. . . . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? You're doing this and a cake?”

“Um,” Carmy repeats intelligently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It reminds him of himself in every way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Where we headed first?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not weird?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Good. You should. They fit well.”

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

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

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

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

“Carmy.” They glare at him.

“What?” He feels himself smiling.

“You can’t do this to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll ask Richie.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You’re giving me no choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . . . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There's no response. Good enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wouldn't mind.” Not if it's you.

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

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

“Ready?” He asks quietly.

“I'm ready,” they whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah…” The first missing piece.

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

“What happened?”

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

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

Suddenly, he thinks of Michael.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do. Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...And that is?”

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

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

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

Without another word, Carmy pulls them into a hug.

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

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

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

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

“Better?”

“Yeah. A lot better.”

“Good.”

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

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

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

“I know. I get it.”

“I know you do.”

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

“Thanks for telling me. About everything.”

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

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

“I found you,” they tell him.

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

Me?

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

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

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

Fucking hell, he thinks to himself. Fuck.

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

“Can't we both be lucky?”

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

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

“...There's no other shoe?”

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

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

“Me neither.”

“...”

“Do you…want to eat your cake now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because I'm a chef, you mean?”

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

You're my best friend.

…

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

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

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

“Y-Yeah. Unless, uh, you don't—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until them.

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

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

And with that, something in him lets go.

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

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

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

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

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

@zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @carmenbrzatto @thehouseofevangelista

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

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beautifulplaceofyouth · 22 days

Text

JJK FF | ROYAL GUARD

CHAPTER TWELVE | SERIES

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Ch. 3

Ch. 4

Ch. 5

Ch. 6

Ch. 7

Ch. 8

Ch. 9

Ch. 10

Ch. 11

Ch. 12

When you keep bumping into your personal royal guard by accident not knowing he is your guardian angel

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook!fallen angel!royal guard! × fem!reader!virgin!princess

Word count: 3.3k

Rating: 15+

Genre + warnings: Fluff, angst, paranormal romance, historical fanfiction, Kook being cold and mysterious, and just being his sexy self. Possessive over his princess. Some kissing scenes in public and in private. Also disappointed parents of Y/n, a little drama and preparations for marriage. The story isn't real, just my imagination running wild so just enjoy reading!

a/n: a little late again, sorry

As you were having breakfast in the big dining hall, you heard loud shouts from outside the big doors.

Frowning, you set aside the cup of coffee you were just holding and asked the nearest servant," What's that noise?"

Since Jungkook left for his morning training and territory duties and checking if there's no more trespassers in the palace, you were left alone with nothing to do so first thing you did when you woke up was take a shower and came down for breakfast.

Expecting an answer from the servant, it was the guard who replied. He was a fallen angel like Jungkook and he looked at you from his post.

"You don't need to worry about that, my lady. His majesty ordered us to keep watch on all entrances and exits. That's what we're here for anyway" he said with a slight tilt of his head like he was also trying to listen what is going on.

Confused, the shouts got louder before someone banged against the big door.

"Let me in this instant! There is my daughter!" Your father's voice echoed through the palace with your eyes wide.

"Please, my baby is there!" Your mother yelled as you stood still in shock before the servant ran out, looking frantic. You couldn't believe you just heard those voices right now.

The guard looked at you worriedly but didn't say anything. The only thing that he could do was stand by his post while waiting for further instructions. "What should I tell his majesty?"

Before you can speak, the doors swung open to reveal your dear father and mother in royal attire. They were first who rushed inside the dining hall with the company of other guards behind them.

As you watched your parents looking so worried, you felt relieved that they are safe and sound. No vampires have attacked them but you didn't know how is that possible that they are here, in the Jungkook's kingdom.

Once they saw you, your father's eyes lit up with relief before he ran toward you, "My daughter" he whispered to you before crushing you in a tight hug.

You hugged him back tightly. He then let go to hold your cheeks so he could study your face in awe before speaking again.

"How long has it been since I last seen you?" Your father asked with teary eyes, a smile plastered on his face.

Feeling confused by all the questions, you said with a smile, "It's not like I didn't see you every day...but why are you here and not at home?" Then after realizing what you said, you quickly added,"Oh, right. I forgot. The vampires."

"Are you all right, honey?" Your mother joined in the conversation, her eyes full of concern.

Since she was never around and only traveling on business trips, you felt weird about her being so worried but you didn't dwell on it too much. The important thing was that your parents are alive.

"How come you're here? Isn't this place hidden from humans?" You asked with confusion.

Your father simply smiled and took your hands in his," It doesn't matter now. Vampires had been terminated from our land and it is safe to go back home. We just wanted to retrieve you ourselves so no harm is done to you and,-" stopping mid sentence, he looks down at your neck like he just saw something strange," What's that collar around your neck?" Your father pointed to your inked mark necklace which appeared when Jungkook marked you.

"Umm, well -" you started to stutter, feeling shy and embarrassed to explain such a sensitive situation, especially to your parents, when you suddenly heard someone coming inside the dining room with heavy footsteps.

Looking over your father's shoulder, your eyes brightened when your gaze met the eyes of your king. Dressed in his armor, his hair combed back neatly, he looked dangerously attractive when he approached.

Without his wings, he looked like a deadly predator who walked with a purpose ready to attack if necessary.

"Your majesty. Sorry for delay, I wanted to check the palace grounds for any intruders before we come inside but I see you've already met with your daughter," his low voice creates goosebumps on your skin when he walks even more closer.

"Yes and it looks that you kept your promise as she looks fine and well but I think it's time to go home now. It will be best for her if she stays with us before,-" before your father could finish, a hand grabbed your chin before pulling you into a chaste kiss.

Your eyes widened in surprise as your king crushed you to his metal chest, not even noticing him stepping in front of you since your parents were standing in the way.

"What are you doing?!" Your father shouted and wanted to push Jungkook away from you but is stopped by some unseen force when you finally got to breathe after the kiss your king pulled.

"Did you miss me, darling?" Your soon to be husband grinned when he caressed your jaw lovingly," Sorry to keep you waiting. Hope you had fun without me," smirking, he left another kiss but this time on your cheek.

Smiling at your flushed face, he turned to look at your father then, his eyes going back to black," She is staying with me and we are having a wedding today so don't interfere. She is safe under my care and we both agree on marrying. If you insist otherwise, I will not hesitate to kill you. I want her by my side so don't test my patience."

Your father still couldn't move but that didn't stop him from protesting," We didn't agree on this! "

"If you don't like this arrangement, then leave now. And it has to be today. We have no choice because the vampire attacks are becoming worse."

"We made a deal that you will marry her when she turns twenty one, till then she lives with her parents. She has responsibilities to hold in her own kingdom! Are you not aware that you're forcing her now? I'm sure you've not even asked her and told her your plan, it's complete nonsense!" Your father tried reasoning his point of view as he shook his head with disbelief.

Jungkook sighed in annoyance," I played nice and let you see your daughter so don't try to stop this. She already has bonded with me," As to prove a point, he kisses your neck and the collar starts pulsing and glowing in blue light, causing a wave of magic that makes you gasp out loud.

"That's her answer. You can choose not to support us now or later. But I won't wait anymore. My time is short and I must make her mine immediately."

"Y/n? Are you really going with this? He's not abusing you, isn't he?" Your mother hesitated to ask.

Feeling anger bubble inside you, it was like switch turned off when you hear them judge him so harshly," Yes, I will marry him. He is the one who has always protected me and always will so don't you ever think about taking him away from me."

"But he could hurt you! He is not even human! How could you even accept an offer like this!?" Your mother screamed at you before turning to your father," Your daughter doesn't even listens to us anymore. Do something!"

"I think she made up her mind already and I want to know only one thing, Y/n. Do you really love him?" Your father asked as he held your hands in his.

Nodding your head yes without hesitation, you look straight at your father," Yes I love him with everything I have. He has protected me and brought me into his home and he is the first person who truly cares about me. That's why I chose to stay here with him."

Turning to Jungkook, he looks even more hungry after hearing your confession.

Pulling you to him, his eyes glow from the emotions coursing through him and his words become husky," This is why I will marry her. No one ever will take her from me again."

"And when do you intend to get married? There needs to be a ceremony in the palace so we might as well start the preparations now." Your mother suggested.

"Let's just start immediately," Jungkook spoke, cutting your parents off before anyone can say anything else.

Your father looks at him with shock written on his face," Right away? Just like that? But preparations,-"

"Are not necessary," Jungkook cut him off again," That's why you're here. You will be our witnesses to our marriage if you wish to participate. If not, my guards will gladly escort you out but you don't want your daughter sad or disappointed, right?"

With that your father nods in defeat.

The dress was tight enough for the top of your shoulders to show a little bit of your pale skin. It was also sleeveless and a very thin layer of material that covered your arms and neck.

The dress was decorated with tiny crystals hanging from the straps that attached to the gown with delicate jewels scattered throughout. It was beautiful nonetheless.

"Can I do your makeup, your highness?" A maid asks you.

When you nod, you watch as she takes some powder, lipstick and blush to put on your rosy cheeks while you sit patiently on a chair.

You were afraid that your hair would have gotten messy during the process but the maids reassured you that you shouldn't worry since their hands were as gentle as they could be.

Once finished dressing your hair, the maid carefully brushes your long hair, careful not to mess it up until your hair falls naturally onto your face. You look pretty and beautiful in your new dress.

Once the maid finishes styling your hair, she gives you the mirror," I hope you feel satisfied your highness. The color suits you so well."

"I think so too," you smile at her softly and then your smile drops when your mother walks inside your chambers and smiles warmly at you.

"How are you sweetheart? You look beautiful in that dress," She compliments you softly.

You turn your head away from her," Thanks, mother," trying not to frown at her kind words, your mother seems to notice how unhappy you were about something.

"What's wrong?" Her eyebrows furrow together in confusion.

"It's just that...." Your eyes started watering again.

You wanted to tell her everything but you knew that she wouldn't really care. She never was around in the palace when you grew up. She only came back from her trips once or twice a year which was the reason why you barely saw each other.

Her visits meant nothing but now, you realized that you missed the feeling of being around her more than you had thought.

"I just...," not knowing how to say it, your mother sits next to you on a chair, pity in her gaze.

"Is it his majesty? You're not happy with him? It's not too late to back out and you can come with us home. It would be better if,-"

"No! It's nothing like that! I love him! " Your voice gets louder as tears started falling faster down your face.

Your mother looked surprised at first, unsure about how to react," You love him?"

You nodded your head," I've loved him since forever. Since the moment I met him, I've been fascinated by him. But I didn't realize what' i felt when I became attracted to him. When he kissed me, when he smiled at me, the feelings intensified. Then I fell in love with him and I couldn't imagine my life without him. So please, help me, mom. Tell dad to back down from his stupid demands but promise that you'll support me in getting married today!"

"Why wouldn't I support you?"

"You've never been by my side when I needed to make my own decisions. It was my father who always made sure I was okay so of course I'm asking you for support. You owe me that much, mother.”

She sighed deeply," I really don't agree with this agreement though. I want you to choose someone better than this man, someone worthy of you. Someone who can give you the happiness you deserve. He may seem handsome and caring yet deep down inside he has selfish desires and he's just using you. Your father didn't told you that he is trying to go back to heaven once he proves himself worthy, did he?"

Confused, you frown at her," He said something about proving himself to the higher angels once he is done building his kingdom here but he never said anything about going back to heaven. I'm sure you've misunderstood something,"

"I think he's planning to betray you, Y/n."

"What?"

"He said that once he finds proof that he is worthy, he will return to heaven. So I advise for you to think before you jump into this marriage,"

"There's no point in thinking about it. Even if he does find proofs against him, he'll still come back to me anyway. He loves me more than any single word ever written. We are perfect together, mom. Everything about our story is true," you argue with her.

Smiling sadly at you, your mother shook her head," I'm sorry my dear. Maybe you'll understand someday in time but don't you think that marrying this man is a huge mistake?"

"No. I've already made the decision long ago. I've chosen him and no matter what happens later, we will get through it together so stop trying to stop me."

"But you're the heir to the throne! You have responsibilities and people to think of! You can't leave your kingdom behind because of one selfish man. Think about your future! What's going to happen to us if you decide to marry him and there is no one who continues to run the kingdom?!"

"Mom," You whisper.

Sighing heavily, your mother runs her fingers through her curly hair. "Just, please think about this seriously. Don't do this. Please, please reconsider." With these last words, she got up from her seat and leaves your chambers.

Closing your door quietly behind her, the maid who was doing your makeup comes back inside since she left so you can talk to your mother in private.

"What happened to your eyes, your highness? Were you crying?"

"It's nothing. My mother and I had a disagreement over something. She doesn't believe in marriage so I think I'm free to decide what will happen to our kingdoms once I am married," You smile at her, hoping it would ease her worries, but she simply shakes her head and goes back to applying makeup to you.

When she finishes, she dismisses herself with a bow and lets you know that everyone has gathered in the throne room for the ceremony. Thanking her, you let yourself breathe for a moment before you walk out yourself.

Trying to calm your nerves, the sudden sensation over your shoulder makes you shiver and you glance over to see Jungkook standing by the window.

"When did you get here?" You ask nervously.

Then you notice his royal suit for the ceremony.

Completely black but for the white cape that hangs loosely on his shoulders which is strapped by shiny black gem stones.

His expression is unreadable as he stares at you. His hands are tucked behind his back and he is leaning against the wall besides the window.

"A couple minutes ago," He answers simply.

Taking another deep breath, you lower your gaze and try to control your nerves.

"Uh-it's a bad sign if you see the bride before the wedding," You joke as you laugh humorlessly, your heart rate picking up the pace.

"Oh yeah?" He asks with interest.

You swallow hard. "Yeah. That means we're going to fight."

Jungkook raises an eyebrow as he tries to hold back a grin," Is that so?" He says playfully.

"Mhm," You answer nodding your head, agreeing with whatever he says even though you weren't sure anymore.

Your conversation with mother still clouded your mind and you were afraid to speak again about something related to it. After taking a few more deep breaths, you decide to bring up the topic.

"So...," You clear your throat, trying not to stutter." When did you really came inside? I would've seen you because I was only here with one of your maids. She helped me dress up."

"Oh? I thought saw your mother walking out of our bedroom."

Waiting for you to deny, you nodded your head," Yes, she was here."

"What did you two talk about?"

"Nothing important." You lie.

He walks closer to you, making you feel nervous all of the sudden. You could smell his strong cologne as he leans in, staring intensely at you.

His eyes seem to stare into your soul as you try to not hover in place.

"Lying doesn't suit you, princess." He flashes his teeth in a sharp smile.

"What makes you say that?" You ask sarcastically.

He smiles even wider," I heard every word your mother told you. About how she doesn't approve our marriage, our relationship and that I'm just using you to my own benefit."

"H-how?" You manage to utter as you blink twice, not knowing how even he knew that.

"I know everything, love. " He takes a step back.

You shake your head in disbelief," How is this possible? Are you able to spy on people from outside their walls? Does it have to do with your magic or special hearing?"

"Both of them, darling," He chuckles.

"How..?"

Jungkook shrugs," Because I'm a guardian angel. There aren't many things I don't know or couldn't find out about someone who's supposed to be my queen. I'm a protector,"

"So you can read my mind too?"

"No, I can't read minds. But I've known you for years to know what you think and right now you are thinking about if that's true what your mother said."

"You mean about that you're going to heaven after you prove yourself to the higher angels?" You question as you look at him with uncertainty.

He smiles," Are you scared that I will leave you?"

"No," you say immediately, shaking your head with conviction." No, never."

"I'm glad. The longer that I spend with you, the easier it is for me to believe that the universe decided to pair you with me. I know for a fact you wouldn't survive without me, especially when our souls are connected. Our souls are linked. That means if something bad ever happens to either of us then the other will die along with the person."

"We're already bonded, Jungkook. It's impossible for something bad to happen. We'll figure this out together."

Nodding his head at you, he replies," We will. And don't worry about your mother. If she believes we should break up, I'll take care of it. As long as you're happy and safe with me. As long as I'm around you. No one can separate you from me. Trust me," He whispers, placing his hand on your cheek softly.

You nod your head as tears begin to fall down your face. "Thank you. I love you. I really do,"

Pulling you close to him, he hugs you tightly, whispering to your ear," I really do, too." Kissing your neck lightly he adds," Now come on, let's go before they think we're late so lets get married, shall we?"

"Wait, Jungkook," you grab his sleeve," You didn't say anything about my dress."

The corners of his lips tug upward," You look beautiful."

"You think so?" You blush lightly.

"Of course," He says, his voice dropping low and sending chills down your spine.

"Now come on, princess, I'll take good care of you so that you'll never forget."

Smiling shyly, you follow him out of the room.

Be continued…

p.s. All images and gifs are not mine, some of the edits are mine edited but not every picture. All the credit goes to their rightful owners

DO NOT REPOST THIS WORK AS YOUR OWN BECAUSE THIS IS THE ORIGINAL OWNER’S STORY

If you like, please reblog or like the post so I can post the next chapters :)

Taglist: @lepau123 @the-princess-of-mischief-1998 @11thenightwemet11 @khadeeeeej (If you want to be tagged, please message me)

#bts #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfction #jungkook smut #bts fluff #fallen angel #historical romantic fiction #royal guard #virgin princess #guardian angel #kpop fiction

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herslvtspeaks · 5 months

Text

Liar | Hailey Van Lith

I wrote this 3 months ago 😟 Angst is you wanna call it that i don't really know what this would be

Hailey and reader are in a situationship!

I DID NOT proofread 😭 my bad

"Hailey?"

Silence.

I woke up alone once again. Hailey loved to hit and dip literally. We'd have an amazing night and when I wake up she's always gone. I pick up my phone to see a message from her.

My Hailey Baby 🤍

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

sorry i wanted to get some extra shots in

ima make it up to you later

read

I didn't want to deal with Hailey and her excuses today. She did this all the time it didn't matter the reason. She treated me like a stranger out in public, but in private she treated me like a princess. I don't know how much longer i could deal with her inconsistency.

I get out of bed going to get ready for my first class of the day. I only had 3 classes today and just my luck one of them was with Hailey. We both studied business & marketing management and she ended up in my class.

I get dressed in a gray tracksuit grabbing a pair of slides and my purse before walking out the door. I could walk to my building but i wanted Mcdonald's so i'm driving. I called my bestfriend Aneesah to see if she wanted anything but of course she did, she always wants something. "If you're at Mcdonald's you already know what i want" she said the second the phone connected. She clearly had to have been looking at my location. "Do you want a sprite or do you want coffee" i ask. "mmm, get me orange juice actually" she says. I order our food before she starts speaking again.

"Do you know what's up with Hailey?" Neesah asks making me look at her confused. "No, i seen her last night she seemed fine" i said taking a sip from my drink. "you didn't see her this morning?" she asked making me almost choke. "i never see her in the mornings" i say making Aneesah's face scrunch up. "but yall go home together every night like what" she says making me roll my eyes. "she's always gone when i wake up" i shrug. I pull out of Mcdonald's parking lot heading to campus. "I don't see how you do it y/n i would've had to do sumn' to her" she says making me laugh. I damn for sure have been thinking about it.

For Hailey to want me she sure doesn't act like it. Hell, our teammates barely even knew we have something going on. If anything all they knew was me and Hailey would spend a lot of time together, they didn't know we were fucking eachother. Of course Neesah knew and i'm pretty sure Flaujae and Angel knew but just didn't say anything. "you probably wanna clock her on that though because you guys would be cute together" she says making me laugh again. "Why're you laughing i'm being so for real" she says. "Neesah, you already know how Hailey is. She is not gonna take me seriously" i say making her roll her eyes. "you should hear how she talks about you when you're not here, i would've thought y'all were already official" she says surprising me.

"I don't know what we are honestly nees, i just hope she can get her shit together" i say parking my car. "Anyway i'm about to bring you your food" i say. "i'm on the third floor boo" she says blowing a kiss at the phone. "Bye Neesah" i smile hanging up. I grab my purse and our food getting out the car. I had about an hour before my class started so i was just gonna take Aneesah her food and then head straight to class.

Aneesah's Pov

"Nees who was that" Hailey asks as Y/n hangs up. "Your lil boo" i smile making her roll her eyes at me. I don't know why? She knows it's true. "Anyway what's up with you and this lil funky attitude" I ask. Hailey's been on 10 since i've seen her today and it was getting annoying. Not just that, i wanted to know what was up with her and my best friend. They clearly had feelings for eachother so i don't know why they won't get it together. "What attitude" she says as if she doesn't know what i'm talking about. "The way you stormed into the gym this morning, the way you keep rolling your eyes at me" I say just naming a few of the things she's been doing. "I'm fine" she states clearly not wanting to talk. "Whatever you say Hailey" I sigh.

The room goes quiet until Y/n bursts through the door clearly out of breath. "I hate freshman so much" she says leaning against the door she just slammed closed. "They thought it was absolutely hilarious to chase me down the hallway with water as if it's not 30 degrees outside" she says. Me and Hailey both start to laugh at her. "It's not funny" she pouts sitting in the chair across from me. We continue to laugh as folds her arms across her chest. "I hope you both know i don't like you. I hope they get you next Neesah" she says making me stop laughing.

"That wasn't funny" i say shaking my head. I grab the Mcdonald's bag from her getting my food out. As I was digging through the bag i came up with the most genius idea.

Your Pov

Aneesah knew what she was doing not only telling me to come up here while Hailey is here but then proceeding to make up a bullshit excuse on why she had to go all the way to another building to get a plastic fork when i had one for her. "I want a white plastic fork" i say mocking her on her way out.

The tension between me and Hailey was thick. I refused to speak to her and she looked like she just didn't know how to start a conversation. Maybe she should look up 'What to say to a girl after making up excuses on why you can't be there when she wakes up in the morning for months' but i don't even think that would be able to help her.

"Y/n/n I'm really sorry-" she starts before i cut her off. "Hailey i don't want to hear it. I'm honestly sick of the way you treat me and i can't do this anymore" I say. A thick layer of silence falls again. Hailey doesn't even look me in my eyes. "Can i atleast get an explanation on why" I ask. This time she looks at me. "I'm scared okay" she pauses. "I'm scared that i'm gonna fall in too deep and you're gonna leave me" she continues, i reach for her hand just wanting to hold it. "Baby i would never leave you. If i was going to leave you I would've done that a long time ago instead of fighting with you to treat me right Hailey" She looks at me.

I stand up from my seat walking over to her. "Hailey you have nothing to worry about." I reassure her. She really didn't ever have to worry about me leaving. I was head over heels for this girl. I wouldn't have put up with her shit for this long if i was just going to leave her in the end. She leans in kissing my lips. "I fucking love you" she mumbled going in for another kiss. "I love you more Hailey" I smile.

#herslvt speaks #hailey van lith #lsu wbb #hailey van lith x reader #herslvt

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cxsmicbaby · 11 months

Text

little bit - 2

CHAPTER TWO OF A SERIES

chapter 01

pairing : miguel o’hara x fem!reader

warnings : mild description of blood/injury; cursing throughout. enjoy :) dm if you wanna be added to the taglist!

word count : 3.5k

miguel gets hurt during a mission. he doesn’t want your help, but you give it anyway. things get a little bit heated.

𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

If I had it my way, I would never go home. It all just feels so stale, and boring. After getting a taste of something like the Spider Society, it’s difficult to return to a place where half the city hates you.

Truly, that’s not even why I don’t like coming back. I mean, that’s apart of it, but there’s a far more real, physical problem that makes me dread walking through the portal today; the man waiting for me on the other side.

Strange is not a bad guy. Sure, he’s got his quirks, but at his core he is just as determined to help people as I am. It’s just that he’s become a bit insufferable since I joined Miguel and the others; insufferable, like I cannot stand to be around him for longer than 10 minutes before feeling like I’m going to implode. But I can’t spend time on my Earth without reporting back to him, because if I don’t do it myself he’ll just find me, anyhow.

“Look who decided to show up.” I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my tongue, feeling irritation already brewing in my chest. Taking a deep breath, I turn to face the doctor. He’s wearing a grey robe—a normal one, not a magic one—pajama pants, and slippers. It’s 3pm.

“Can you get off my case, just this once? I had to deal with something.” I certainly did. Hobie and I spent the entire morning and early afternoon scrubbing away at the damage we did on Monday, despite objections from the other spiders. I was right, everyone thinks the lobby is too sterile. But of course, Miguel knows best.

“Something? Is that something tall and annoying?”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself, Strange. You’re not that tall.”

He stares at me like he’s going to start laughing, and then he just sighs, walking past me. “Come on, let’s get this over with. I have something to do later.”

“Something? Is that something... a lady?”

The doctor scoffs, waving his hand to tell me how stupid he thinks I sound. To be fair, that wasn’t as good as his, but I couldn’t think of anything else. But he doesn’t say no, so I assume that this is his way of letting me know he’s going on a date later. Even though Strange and I have our differences, we’ve known each other for long enough that I can be happy for something like that—his last date was more than a year ago, and it ended with a slap and a suit soaked in red wine, so I can only hope this one goes better.

“You’ve been gone for longer this time,” he says, as we enter his study. For a man that claims to be so uninterested in material goods, he seems to have spared no expense in the decor of his living space. Sure, the sanctum was already pretty lavish, but I know for a fact that some of the shiny objects I’m currently looking at were not in here last time.

“It’s fine. It’s different for the others ‘cause a lot of them don’t have other heroes, but we’ve got the Avengers! The city doesn’t really need me that much,” I counter, taking a seat in one of the plush burgundy chairs. The cushion sinks a little under my weight, just enough to be comfortable. I need to invest in some better furniture for my apartment, because this is the best chair I’ve ever sat in.

Strange shakes his head, and takes a seat by his desk across from me. “It’s not about that. People are noticing that you’re gone, you know. And not just civilians.”

My eyebrows raise. “That’s ominous. Who’re we talking about here?”

“Tony, for one. God, that guy is irritating. I’m starting to wonder whether I should just tell him, so he stops calling.”

It takes all my willpower not to remind him just how similar he is to Stark, but to be fair, Tony annoys me more than Strange ever has. It baffles me how some of the other spiders actually work with that guy. Maybe he’s cooler in their universes.

“Just tell them I’m on vacation or something. That’s normal, right? Even heroes take vacations,” I suddenly feel like I can’t sit anymore, so I stand and start to fiddle with the things on his desk. A heavy blue sphere that looks like crystal catches my eye, and I pick it up without asking, turning it around in my hands. I can see my own reflection.

“Yeah, but not without saying anything. And put that down. It’s my paperweight.”

I look up at him to see he’s being entirely serious, and I regretfully do as he says. What an extravagant paper weight.

“So, what am I supposed to do? Get on Jimmy Fallon and announce my temporary retirement?”

Strange takes the paperweight from the place I’ve left it and starts turning it around in his hands. Asshole. “Just don’t spend as much time there as you do. You need to balance it, or else this isn’t gonna work.”

It sounds like he’s trying to tell me what to do. That’s an issue of his; always trying to be in charge of everyone and everything around him. I used to fall in line with that, but I have two control freaks in my life now and the newest one doesn’t really leave room for anyone else.

“Listen, Doc, everything’s gonna be fine. If Stark gets too nosy, I’ll just come back and make something up. You have more important things to worry about than where I am, and I have more important things to worry about than you,” I fire back, narrowing my eyes slightly as I watch for his reaction. He doesn’t seem fazed by my defiance; he’s more amused. Doesn’t matter—it’s time to get out of here and get what I really came back for anyhow. (Boba. The Spider Society has every drink imaginable in the cafeteria except boba.)

“Alright. You do what you want, but just be careful. You’re messing with things beyond your understanding, you know. Even beyond mine.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Before he can launch into a rant about how this is very much not a ‘whatever’ situation, my watch vibrates. I think that it’s probably my empanada alarm—I set one so I can bring Miguel food everyday at the same time, because I noticed that if I bring it after or before he gets too busy to eat it. But it’s not. It’s from Jessica, and she only calls when there’s something serious going on. I almost feel guilty for thinking that this is the perfect escape from this tedious conversation.

“See ya, Strange. Duty calls.”

And just like that, I’m gone, barreling through a wormhole on my way back to my new home. I think it’s pretty much gotten to that point, anyhow. I’ve probably slept in my apartment on Earth-72 like 3 times since I joined up.

When I step out, I’m greeted by more chaos than usual, which is saying something. The room is filled with panicked shouts and spider-people running in every direction; including up and down. Hobie is nowhere to be found, and neither is Miguel, or Jessica. A chill runs down my spine. Something is wrong.

I see Ben talking frantically to someone else and I rush over, beginning to panic a bit myself. “Ben, what happened? Is everyone okay?”

He grimaces. “Miguel, Hobie, and Jessica went to take care of an anomaly. It turned out to be worse than they thought it’d be, and we sent back up, but nobody’s come back yet. They’re all dead, man. They’re all gone...” When he trails off, his eyes unfocus and his eyebrows furrow, obviously getting lost in his melodramatic bullshit once again.

My heart is steadily climbing up my throat. For the first time, I find myself unable to sit through this with him, because for the first time, it’s actually scaring me. “Shut up and tell me where they went.”

He doesn’t even time to come up with something dumb to say before the room is suddenly lit up in oranges and pinks, swirling for just a moment before they collapse in on themselves, and out come just the people I was panicked for. First comes Hobie, and despite a slight limp he seems just fine. Then Jessica, with no physical wounds, but a look on her face that tells me the worst is yet to come.

And then Miguel pours out, almost collapsing onto the floor before he clutches his stomach, forcing himself to stay upright. I can see a dark patch of what I assume to be blood on his right ribcage, and though his mask is on I can tell his face is twisted in pain. My hands almost reach out, as if I could grab him from my distance, but I settle instead for an expression that must look like I just witnessed yet another tragic family death.

“What the hell happened?” I say, quickly walking over to the three. Spiders that must’ve been sent as backup exit the portal quickly after, all groaning and sporting some sort of injury. Jessica’s eyes go hard and she pins me down.

“You should’ve been here. We needed you,” she scolds. Every time she talks to me this way I always feel like a little kid, despite our ages not being too far apart. Guilt chews away at me the longer I stand there, trying not to turn my attention to Miguel and the way he’s trying to hide how badly he’s hurt.

“Give her a rest, she’s been workin’ hard. We got it done, didn’t we?” Hobie chimes in, his voice slightly strained. I wonder just how badly this fight went for everyone to have gotten hurt; the need for any backup at all is startling, seeing as usually it only takes one of us to finish an anomaly off.

“With a lot more collateral damage than there needed to be. Someone take Miguel to the infirmary, he’s banged up bad.”

I turn to him, but he’s already started stalking off.

“I’m fine,” he calls, but I can hear the weakness in his voice; it’s lacking that dominance, that certain tone of his that makes you want to obey every word he says. So I follow behind him.

“Miguel, let me help. I promise I’ll be gentle.”

“No.” It comes out as more of a whimper, which I’m sure was not his intent. I swallow at the way my stomach flutters and continue to walk by his side, unsure of where he thinks he’s going. There’s no way he’s going back to work like this. For god’s sake, he still has his mask on, so he must not really be going anywhere. He’s just trying to get away so he can wallow in his suffering and refuse all help. I won’t let him, not today. If I can stand up to Strange, I can stand up to him.

I move so that I’m blocking his path, and cross my arms in front of my chest, hoping to hide my heavy, nervous breathing.

“I’m not asking, I’m telling. You need medical attention, but if you won’t let a professional help you, I’m going to.”

Miguel studies me. I can tell he is, even though he still has his mask on. His eyes narrow and his posture slumps just the slightest bit, like he’s given up. For just a moment, a thick tension hangs in the air, pressing hard on my chest, but then Miguel inhales deeply and breaks the spell. He doesn’t say a word; he only nods, and pushes past me. This is professional. This is me helping a friend. Me helping my boss. So I should treat it as such. Right?

𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

Miguel wishes he let himself bleed out.

That would be preferable to the situation he has put himself in instead, he thinks, as he watches your face. He’s seated on a chair in his room, his suit peeled down to his feet so you can have access to all his cuts and bruises. He has imagined himself like this with you so many times; you nestled between his thighs, your fingers dancing across his abdomen as you carefully sew his gash shut. In his mind, it’s always led to more sinful activities, and those images are playing on a loop behind his eyes as he watches you. He swallows hard. He remembers a few nights ago when he let himself get off to the thought of you, and he almost recoils from your touch.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, glancing up at him with so soft a gaze he feels like he’s going to melt into a puddle at your feet.

“No.” Miguel figures that speaking plainly will aid him through this, because if he lets you hear but a tremble in his voice he’s sure you’ll know.

You’ll know that his heavy, labored breaths are not because of pain or exhaustion, and that his grip on the arm of the chair is not to brace for each movement of the needle. You’ll know that he’s thinking about how pretty you look on your knees. You’ll know that he wants nothing more than to grab you by the shoulders and kiss you, hard, to slip his tongue into your parted mouth and squeeze all the softest parts of you.

“Ok,” you say, smiling. “Tell me if it does. I can be gentler.”

He’s not sure you can.

It’s torturous, how slow you’re going. You don’t want him to feel pain at your hands, the idea of which pokes worryingly at his heart, but Miguel thinks if he sits here with you for any longer he’s going to lose his mind.

“Did you guys, uh...” you trail off, some semblance of guilt clouding your pretty face. “Did you guys actually need me?”

Oh. You’re ashamed that you weren’t there. Miguel will not tell you this, but he’s glad you weren’t there. If you got hurt like he did he would have ripped the anomaly apart with his bare hands. And that would be a little hard to play off as just normal boss duties.

“No,” he starts, and you brighten up for a moment before your expression sinks once more. He didn’t mean it like that. “If you were there you would’ve just gotten hurt like the rest. You would’ve gotten in the way.”

Why, oh why, did he say that? It’s not even true. From an objective standpoint, you being there would have helped them immensely. Even Miguel acknowledges that you are one of the most talented spider-people he has recruited—though, the only person he acknowledges it to is himself.

“Oh,” you say, your voice soft and quiet. The sound makes his chest ache.

Miguel wants to say something more, but he stops himself.

You sew him up in silence, which he thought would help, but now he can only focus on your breaths that fan over his bare skin, and your tongue that is poking against the corner of your lips as you concentrate. He feels his cock ache just the slightest bit and his eyes go wide, realizing that the worst possible thing that could happen right now is very, very close to happening. This needs to be over, now.

“That’s enough.” Miguel tries not to sound panicked, but he’s sure some of it slips through the cracks. You pause and look up at him with confusion.

“I’m almost finished. Just sit tight, it’ll be over soon.”

You move to continue, and in his fear he pushes your hands away. “Don’t. I told you, I don’t want your fucking help.”

He can see you’re hurt by that. God, what a fucking mess this is. The last thing he ever wants is to hurt you but it seems in order to keep himself from you, that’s what he has to do. The day you find out about the perverted, disgusting ways he thinks of you is the day he will disappear forever. He would sacrifice anything to keep that from happening.

“I don’t understand. Why do you hate me so much? God, why do you hate everyone? All we ever do is try to help you.” You back away from him, still on your knees, and your hands fall frustratedly to your sides. Miguel is surprised by this reaction, because he’s so used to you letting everything he says slide right off your back. But he’s gone too far now, he can see that. Your eyes are shiny and your forehead creased in defeat.

He can’t say anything, because if he does words will come out that he needs to stay hidden. So Miguel just watches you with eyes he’s sure are hard and cold, and he sees your face fall even further, your tongue poking at the inside of your cheek as a bitter laugh escapes you.

“Fine. Do it yourself.”

You toss the needle onto the table with the rest of the supplies and stand, moving to leave. And this is what Miguel wants, right? He wants you gone. But he betrays himself, because before you can even reach the door, he finds words bubbling in his throat and he’s unable to stop them.

“Wait. Don’t... you can stay.” It doesn’t even sound like his voice. He sounds weak, weathered by a raging storm that refuses to let up. You pause, but you don’t turn, crossing your arms in front of you as you sway from side to side. And Miguel’s body is aching to reach for you, to tell you the truth. That he is so infuriatingly infatuated with you that the very idea of you leaving makes him twitch.

“I’m...” it feels like his throat is constricting, trying not to let the words out. “I’m sorry. That was... unnecessary.”

You still don’t move, and Miguel’s sure you’re going to leave anyway. But then you do turn, and the smile on your face is so wide that he panics for a second that he’s said something more exciting than what he really has.

“It was mean. But, I accept your apology. Thank you, Miguel.” You’ve said his name hundreds of times before, but this time he feels a surge of something strange in his chest; but not like before, in the shower, or when you were between his thighs, staring up at him. Something stronger than that. Something scarier.

He swallows hard. “You can, uh. You can finish up now.”

You’re between his thighs again. One of your hands is flat against his stomach, keeping the skin taut, the other sewing away, your elbow resting on his thigh. His chest is heaving again. But he’ll fight it, if it means you’ll smile. You’re still smiling.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, glancing up at him again.

Miguel sighs sharply. “A little bit.” You smile a little harder.

“Sorry. I’ll be gentler.”

Again, he’s not sure you could.

𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

CHAPTER THREE

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