#fucked her up REALLY good and i really want to do it again so bad
Note
hi! i loved Drive Thru Test and i was wondering if you'd actually write charles calling y/n his girlfriend and then her not wearing the ring. i think that would just be really funny and he'd be so cute whining. im not trying to rush you and I'd be happy to wait for the fic!
Hi! Yes, it would be very funny because i don’t think Charles realizes that he proposed to a Drama Queen. I don’t know if it turned out like you wanted it to but I really hope you like it!
Fiancé Girlfriend
Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader
Summary: After a month of being engaged, Charles isn’t used to calling Y/N his fiancé, and accidentally calls her his girlfriend AGAIN. Y/N being true to her words, decides to stop wearing her ring.
Warning: the usual spelling and grammatical errors, VERY bad photoshop.
A/N: I am on my period and it SUCKS, i haven’t been able to get much sleep sadly and i really want chocolate and there’s no chocolate in my house 😩 also, if I were to ever give Charles and Y/N a dog in my fanfics, it will not be Leo since he is a Saint Mleux as well, not just a Leclerc
(His face when he realized he messed up)
Y/N was in the paddock at the Monaco Grand Prix, she had to be there for Charles’s home race. She was happy she did, Charles got P1, Max P2, and Lando P3. Charles kissed her when he got out of the car, she saw his podium ceremony, literally the best GP she’s been to, nothing could mess up her mood. She was in the hospitality snacking on whatever they were offering her while watching the post race interview on the TV and something happened.
“So Charles, we saw you kissing Y/N after your big Home Race win, how long have you guys been together?” The interviewer asked.
“Yes, my girlfriend and I have been together for 5 years.” Charles said and his eyes widened. Max and Lando were also looking at him like ‘ooh, she’s gonna kill you’ “Wait, no, that’s not what I meant..” Charles started but the interviewer ignored him and started asking Max and Lando questions.
Y/N was in shock, how dare Charles call we his girlfriend on live television. So Y/N did what any normal person would do, she took off her ring and placed it securely in the inside pocket of her purse.
Charles in the other hand was panicking after the interview.
“Okay, try not to panic.” Lando said.
“That ship has sailed, Lando. I’m panicking, I’m fucking panicking!” Charles was paving around the room.
“There’s probably a good chance she didn’t see the post race interview.” Lando said.
“And if she did? I already called her my girlfriend once, you know what she said she would do if I do it again? Take off her ring.” Charles said.
“Maybe she was bluffing, she wouldn’t actually go through with that, she loves you too much. I have never seen a couple love each other so much.” Max said and Charles smiled.
“You’re right, Max, she loves me, she’d never take off the ring.” Charles said. He left the room to go to the hospitality and saw Y/N eating fries. “Mon ange! Did you see the interview?”
“Muñeco! Yes I did.” Y/N said.
“I am so sorry, I really am.” Charles takes Y/N’s hand in his and noticed something was missing. “Mon ange, where’s your ring?”
“What ring, muñeco?” Y/N asked, feigning innocence.
“Your ring, your engagement ring, where is it?” Charles asked.
“Charles, I don’t know what you are talking about, why would I have a ring? It’s not like I’m your fiancé or anything, I’m just your girlfriend.” Y/N said and Charles pouted.
“I’m sorry! I swear I am so very sorry, I didn’t mean it.” Charles begged for forgiveness.
“Let’s go home, muñeco, can we order in?” Y/N asked.
“Yeah sure, anything you want, mon coeur.” Charles said. They were walked to the car and as soon as they got in, Charles expected Y/N to put her ring back on since they are not ‘in public’ anymore but she didn’t, the ring was still off. “So mon ange, have you been thinking about when would you want the wedding?”
“Wedding? What wedding? We’re not even engaged, Charles.” Y/N said. You know the saying ‘if they go low, I go lower’? Y/N is going as low as the depths of hell for a slip of the tongue.
“Mon ange, is not funny anymore.” Charles whined.
“Did you order food?” Y/N asked.
“Yes I did, we’re picking it up.” Charles said.
“Cool.” Y/N said.
The drive to the restaurant and back home was silent.
“Okay, we’re back home now.” Charles said as they entered the apartment.
“Yes muñeco, Im aware.” Y/N said but she still didn’t put her ring back on.
“Mon ange please wear your ring.” Charles begged, wrapping his arms around her waist, her back to his chest. “Please, I promise to announce our engagement on Instagram.” Charles kisses her neck. “Please just wear the ring, I love you so much and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, you are the best fiancé a man could ever have.” Charles whispered in her ear as he places little neck kisses.
Y/N turned around and saw Charles pouring with teary eyes and she felt her heart melt.
“Aw muñeco, okay, I’ll wear my ring. But promise the whole world will know we are engaged. I love that you want your friends and family to know first, but it hurts me when you still call me your girlfriend.” Y/N said and Charles kisses her forehead.
“I know, mon ange. We’re going to let the whole world know that you’re my fiancé.” Charles kissed her passionately.
Liked by pierregasly and 830,659 others
charles_leclerc after years of dating, I proposed to the love of my life on our 5th anniversary. I love her so much, I am thankful for having her in my life. We have been engaged for a month and I am so happy that I get to call her my fiancé, the future Mrs. Leclerc, I love you 😘.
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landonorris happy for you mate, so glad she didn’t kill you
charles_leclerc you and be both 😳
maxverstappen1 happy for you mate!
carlossainz55 congratulations, cabrón! I expect invite to the wedding
yourusername aww, muñeco, I love you too, I can’t wait to be Mrs. Leclerc 🥹
francisca.cgomes let me be a bridesmaid!
yourusername you’re maid of honor!
user45 no wonder Charles looked nervous after his pst race interview
yourusername posted a story
charles_leclerc replied
Can’t wait to be your husband 😘
The End
Hope y’all liked it! It was a little short but fun to write!
#hispanic reader#latina#hispanic#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic
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┌─ “ ! „ HEARTBEAT
tw. pseudocest, noncon, possessiveness, grooming?, age gap, blood, murder, a lot of trauma bonding
wordcount. 6k
a/n. thank yoUUUU rhi for betaing you are my favorite as alwaysssss I love you soooo much ♡♡
okkotsu yuuta x fem!reader
Blood is splattered on the ground of the dirty alley, and there’s another heavy thump when his kick once again lands on the kid’s skull and he moans in pain. He calls him a kid in his head because he’s got that shit-faced little attitude, and now an ugly gap where his front teeth used to sit, but he should be old enough to know better. As a couple passes by the narrow street, he shields things from view a little, before using the long edge of his sheathed sword to push the dumb, bloody face to the side. Because his eyes are starting to look like two overripe tomatoes from the impact, he couches down before the sandy brunet.
“You know what this is about?” Yuuta’s voice is hoarse. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but it’s been a busy week cleaning up your messes. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t mind. If anything, it makes him feel sort of useful. You’re good and kind and don’t get into trouble on purpose — which is why he’s here late at night making sure things get handled. Niisan’s got it, after all. He doesn’t bother to clear his voice. “Hey.”
“Take my cash,” the young man below him now whistles through the missing teeth, teary eyes darting around as he pats his hand all over himself to look for a wallet.
Yuuta scoffs. “I don’t want your money. If I did, you think I’d waste my time beating your face in like you had it coming?” The anxious, almost nervous lilt to his own voice doesn’t escape him. If you could see him now, you’d probably say that he was enjoying this too much - and while he is, the idea of this getting back to you doesn’t escape his mind. It won’t though, logically speaking. The kid probably wouldn’t be able to see straight for a couple hours, and you will never find out. “I want to know why you’re hanging around Rika’s kid sister.”
“Kid? W- I don’t know any Rika!” He yelps when he tries to lift his head and gets the handle of the weapon hit hard onto the bridge of his nose again, adding more blood to the mess that’s running all over the bottom of his face. Yuuta really can’t see it, lifting his top lip in slight disgust. Handsome, where? Just as much as this boy isn’t really a kid anymore, neither are you. But you’re younger, and deserving of protection — is it really so bad he wants to imagine you as his baby sister for a bit longer before you start trying to escape from under his wings?
Not that you’re going to go anywhere.
“I don’t know a Rika,” the blond whines again now, hiding his face into his hands to drool and hiccup against the cold floor.
“Orimoto Rika, has a kid sister.” Yuuta bites back, patience running really thin.
“O-I- I kn- oh, we’re in the same uni prep class!” He gets up to close his eyes and focus all his attention on not just kicking against his skull until the answers fall out. He knows that, how else would he even know to ask? The head damage takes it a few seconds to make the guy continue, sniffling. “We’re friends- or- my friend knew her. I liked her so we hung out a few times.” Yuuta’s hand is cold around the worn handle.
He takes a slow breath, watches the cloud of air as he lets it out. The promise ring glints in the light of the street, and it’s all familiarity and instinct that makes him brush his thumb over it. “Were you serious with her? Or did you tell her whatever so you could fuck her? Hm? Did you fuck my little sister?” The brunet snivels and whines under him when his foot lands back right before his face, demanding attention.
“I won’t talk to her anymore, I swear! I swear I w-won’t even - it’ll be like I never existed. Please.” The pitiful whining he’s doing, groveling like a dog below him - sort of reminds him of a younger him. Someone who didn’t have a purpose yet, and was scared of everything for it. The heavy weight of the ring clings to his hand when he lifts it to unsheath the katana, seeming to wrap a comforting palm around his own. If he could, he'd tangle fingers with her.
“P-please, let me go home! I didn’t do- I wouldn’t touch your s-sister, I didn’t know.”
“I hate guys who aren’t serious with her.” He clicks his tongue, and has to spit out the nasty taste that this entire situation leaves on his tongue. The weight of the sword is barely an inconvenience when both hands wrap around the handle properly. He’s doing this for Rika and him. Always. “She deserves so much better.” A mean flash of possession crosses his thoughts - how no one except him will ever be good enough. But he pushes it back, because that has nothing to do with why he’s doing this. Nothing.
+
“Yuuta~” Her voice haunts when he closes his eyes.
He’s in the sandpit of the Children’s hospital, rocking back and forth softly on the edge of it as he waits. The sun makes the sand nice and toasty, it warms his feet when he plants them down. “Yuuta!” It’s instinctive, when he looks up at the familiar voice. Rika’s hair travels in a perfect arc behind her when she runs to make it catch the light like a halo. Pretty blue dress making the shine of her hair even brighter, cheeks rosy, and her eyes glittering diamonds when they find his and she crashes down next to him. Her scraped knee is proof that it’s too hard, but he can’t help but smile when her cheek touches his arm on the landing.
Something hits the floor with a loud thump.
Yuuta turns over his shoulder to watch. There’s a smaller child that’s chin down on the earth behind them two, thick crocodile tears threatening to spill when Rika gasps. “Rika neechan~ Wait.” You pout, straightening up quicker than you should to reach your hands out to her. The girl hurries over to dust your cheeks off and drag you along behind her. It’s such a nice day out, Yuuta’s sweater is just thick enough to make his entire body warm. He stares at your face a little too long, before glancing between you two.
You’re still rounder than she is, but it’s undeniably eerie. “Your sister?” He asks softly, and Rika grins wide. She gently maneuvers you by the hand to sit next to her, then pulls you into a hug.
Her lips are pretty pink when she licks them. “This is Yuuta. Say ‘hi Yuuta’.” You parrot your sister obediently, as she waves your hand around at him. “Me and Yuuta are going to get married. So you should be very nice to him, okay?” Her sweet cheeks are the exact same as yours, long lashes and big, knowing eyes that always have him staring. You just look absentmindedly at the grass when Rika holds you into her side, but nod.
He smiles softly when your big eyes find his again. And Rika giggles. “And she’s gonna be your sister one day, so you gotta protect her well. We’re gonna be one happy family, promise?” She extends her arm to hold out a pinky finger at him. “That’s what I want.”
+
His fingers are pressing indents into your arm. It’s unusual. Yuuta’s always gentle, he’s soft and cares, but today his hand is screwed almost protectively tight around your upper arm, and you can’t say that you hate the feeling. Maybe childishly, you want him to squeeze even harder - so you’ll have no reason to get out.
You don’t come here a lot. Not since the accident tore open the painful scarred memory of it, but even before then, it wasn’t exactly your favorite place. It’s at Yuuta’s gentle prompting that you even managed to dress, and now walk however slowly between the low stone walls. The rain taps impatiently on the umbrella above, as the older boy casts you a careful glance. Then slowly bends to sit on his ankles, and grabs your hand ever so softly, meeting your eyes. His hands, though big enough to dwarf yours now, are almost velvety when they clasp around yours. It feels like he’s exponentially grown, while you’ve stayed pretty much the same.
Partly the illness. Mostly the age.
“Think you can go on?” he softly asks, kind eyes sympathetically regarding you. Like he’s making a judgment call about whether to turn back after all - debating the long walk back to the hospital. “I’ll be right here with you.”
“You’ve already gone before, haven’t you?” Your voice sounds a bit accusatory, a bit pouty too. Can’t be helped. Yuuta could be a living saint and you’d still find it hard. He clearly doesn’t take it to heart, because he smiles. His one hand then moves up to ruffle your hair.
“It’s still hard for me too, though,” his lips quirk up in an almost smile, but you can tell he doesn’t mean it. It’s sort of comforting to know that even someone like him feels it. Of course he would. Your neesan was family, but Yuuta probably knew her better than you ever could. He was beside her when she got out the two times, and was waiting when she had to get re-admitted. He was there when she got hit— there’s a comforting brush of your cheek when he stands back up and the umbrella gets so much higher. Yuuta blinks. “Come. I think you can do it.”
Your chubby cheeks flood with warmth, as you take his fingers into your hands with a nod. “Okay.”
It’s like this that you wind up at the headstone, stepping through dredged earth that’s been walked on too much. It seems to cling to the bottoms of your shoes with intent - you squeeze Yuuta nii’s hand tighter at the sight of the family grave. It now holds three of your kin in a warm embrace under the several bouquets of wilting flowers, and however morbidly, you think that maybe you’ll be joining soon. You’re young, but it’s not lost on you when the nurses send each other pitying looks.
“Is this where neesan’s buried?” Your voice sounds pinched and small, and sort of pathetic. You imagine Yuuta nii cried when he came to the funeral, but he wouldn’t have whined. You’re whining. You don’t want Yuuta to get fed up with you. Not when he’s the last semblance of ‘family’ you have left. After a while of staring blankly at the stone, he nods, and turns over his shoulder to smile at you again, pulling you a little closer to him. Your arms loop around his waist, staring down at the pretty whites that shake under the rain. “Is this where I’ll be buried when I die?”
He freezes. You feel bad about the double take he does when his spine goes more straight, rigid limbs dropping by his side as a deep, uncomfortable breath makes its way out. Your hands wring together instead.
However long it takes for him to unlock his limbs is however long you breathe through your tears as they well up stubbornly along your lash line, before your head is pulled to his ribs into an embrace. He swallows back emotion himself. “That’s not- I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise. I promise.”
“I’m sick-”
“No.” His eyes glint with something silvery when he takes your face between both hands and lets your childishness wash over him, clenching his jaw. “What happened to Rika was an accident- I- I couldn’t do anything then. But nothing’s going to happen to you as long as I’m here. I need- you to believe me.”
You don’t flinch when he uses your cheek to turn your face his way, but the urge still sits. His eyes study your face too intently, like he’s looking for something he can’t quite find. “I promised that I’d be a niichan that protects you.”
Rain splatters into a million glistening flecks as it meets the headstone.
“Okay,” you say.
It isn’t lost on you that his jaw is set too tight as he drags you back by the hand towards his bike, fist clenched around the umbrella. He breathes a tiny, ‘Later, Rika’ before turning on his heel. You don’t manage the same. Your voice gets stuck in your throat, even when he helps you up onto the bike rack in the back, pulling your face into his chest too tight- squeezes you to mold against him. He smells nice for a teen boy. The kiss he leaves on your crown is gentle, and leaves a soft warmth on your skin — You doubt it is really meant for you.
+
The door pushes open as you’re putting clips into your bangs, tongue trapped between your teeth. You cast Yuuta a glance through the mirror when he lingers at the door, and try to smile. “I’m almost ready.” You’re no longer too keen on fighting, the longer the silent treatment drags on. After a while of watching you with his arms crossed over his chest — he walks over to your bed to plop himself down and lets himself fall backward.
“I’m sorry,” the noiret sighs at nothing in particular, as you put on a necklace and after debating for a second, some perfume. The noise makes Yuuta look, studying you when you turn. It’s easy to forget sometimes that Yuuta didn’t have to stay with you, and he sure as hell didn’t have to give up a lot of his youth to take care of you like he does. Like your other family refuses to do when all the cards are on the table. He catches your stare. “You know I love you. I… worry when you’re not right here where I can see you. We stick together.”
“I know.” Your smile only barely makes your lips move, but you do mean it. You just wish realizations like this didn’t always have to come at the cost of fighting. “For what it’s worth, I’ll probably always forgive you.” You try to laugh, and brush your hair out of your eyes a final time before grabbing your bag. “I’m only going to be out for a few hours, max.”
Yuuta frowns when he sits up. His dark hair is brushed out of his face, damp and soft from the shower. “You’re still going?”
You blank. “Yeah, Himari and Shota are waiting for me. We’re going to see a movie.” He only has to let his eyes travel over your body and clothing once, for you to read what he’s thinking. You yank the edge of your skirt a bit lower, and pull your shoulders up. “What, what?! I can’t go out looking like this? It’s basically the same length as my uniform, what’s wrong with that?!”
“I didn’t say anything,” he breathes back, empty eyes regarding you with a static sort of- indifference, you guess.
“You don’t have to, niichan! God!” You turn to walk out the room, but Yuuta grabs your wrist when you pass by the bed. Sat down like he is, eyes tracing you like a lion- Yuuta no longer looks like the boy that used to draw stars on the ceiling of your hospital room for your amusement. Your cheeks heat when he basically glares straight at you for your attitude, and mulls the answer around in his mouth. Your anger subsides as you take a breath. This is the guy who makes you fresh apple juice in the morning, and calls you up between shifts. Because he cares. He just cares.
“Can I please go, Yuuta nii?”
After a few seconds, he clicks his tongue, staring at the edge of your skirt before tugging at it too, barely hiding a frown you can see dig between his brows. “You know I don’t like that Shota kid?”
Your lips jut out. “Yeah…” It’s getting awfully close to time to leave. You take a step back just to get his hands away from you. It’s distracting, and this is your brother you’re dealing with. “But he’s really nice. He started high school already but he used to be in my class the last three years, so… so you don’t have to worry. He knows I can’t do everything because I’m sick and he says—”
“Yeah, I’m sure he says everything you want to hear… You’re smarter than this. You don’t actually believe that.”
“He’s my friend.” A friend that makes your heart beat a bit faster when he smiles at you, but what’s it to him? “He doesn’t lie.”
Yuuta grimaces when you stare him down. “Don’t tell me about teenage boys, I used to be one.” He bristles before sitting up straighter, and though he’s technically below you, you still feel his energy tower as those big, dark eyes stay on your face. “Are you really ‘going to see a movie’? Or are you just going to sit in a boy’s room all night while I’m worried sick-”
You’re about ready to walk out, but his fingers are still looped around your wrist. “We are going to the movies! Himari and I! Just because a boy is there- ugh! Niichan, don’t make it weird!” The heat burns higher on your cheeks when you ball your fists, ignoring the pressure behind your eyes. This is so embarrassing. “I want to go.”
It’s quiet for much too long, making goosebumps appear all over your exposed skin. Then he breathes. “Come here.” His voice has more of an edge than it used to. You used to like the way your name fell from his lips. You’re not so sure you do anymore. Instead of storming out and forgetting all about him, you stare back at the sharpness in his eyes. When he pats his lap with familiarity, you jerk a brow. But you sit. His breath brushes along your neck too softly where he’s seated. It tickles on the way down.
It almost feels like… like he could wrap his hands around your neck and squeeze until you stopped struggling.
Yuuta nii wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.
Fingers come to your necklace, undoing it, and it drops into your lap on the pretty, blue skirt. It’s suddenly much too cold in the room, and you resist the urge to wrap your arms around yourself. It’s fine. You’re fine. Yuuta is family.
Still the untouched skin of your neck feels too exposed.
If he notices your rigid posture, he doesn’t bother fixing it. Just reaches, then pushes your head forward. The childishly familiar pink, bedazzled heart he holds up instead glints, swaying from where you left it on your side table for the night. “You get back at 9,” his lower voice sounds, “or else I’m driving out to wherever you are and dragging you back to my car.” When you don’t say anything in response, he brushes away your hair from your shoulders.
“Yuuta nii,” you start, clamming up when he drapes the dainty thing around your throat and does the closure for you. “I wasn’t going to wear that one tonight.” You don’t always want to wear whatever Rika left behind until infinity.
“I think you will,” he breathes back, and kisses your exposed shoulder. It’s less sweet, more something to punctuate his statement. If he wasn’t so familiar and soft, you’d immediately fight against the way his strong arms wind around your waist to anchor you in his lap. “Just wear it.” His hands stay against your skin, long after he’s finished. Too long, and after seconds of sitting in the tense silence, you jerk up off his lap to grab your discarded bag from the floor. The other necklace drops to the carpet somewhere, but you don’t care.
“Fine,” you bring out tightly, before giving him a last look. Your bottom lip trembles a slight bit, so you suck it into your mouth to make it stop. And tears sting at the corners despite yourself. “Later, then.”
“Tell Himari that niichan says hello. It’s been so long since she’s been here.” He gets up from your bed too, and you resist the urge to rush out the room before him when he steps around you. You can’t fight the feeling that somehow… you were just caught in your lie. Your phone beeps in your bag, as Yuuta nii disappears around the corner. Shota, probably.
+
Blood. The door creaks, swings against the wind.
Dead.
You hope he’s dead. Blood pools at the center of the showers, sinks down the drain too slowly. It sticks to the pretty porcelain tiles of the old school locker room before the water gurgles it down.
They’re dead.
You don’t have to question it before it’s confirmed. Before the heavy, silver cleaver is lodged into the side of the already ruined skull. All of them. All of the boys of the soccer team seem to be present, though you don’t want to try and count. Counting makes it real. This shouldn’t be. The heavy thump makes way for a gross squelch when he yanks the metal out, and keeps the body down with his foot.
The spatters on his face are still wet. You can’t help the way your voice comes out when you breathe in deep and try to keep the tears from spilling over. The cleaver’s red and sticky and so is his hand, up to his forearm, his forehead from wiping his hair away. All of it, ruined.
“Y-yuuta nii?”
The metal door of the locker slams closed with the wind and hits you in the back, sending you skittering forward a few steps before you force the air out of your lungs with a stuttered pant.
With a soft smile, he turns over his shoulder. “Shhh.” The blood’s crusted under his nails when he presses a finger to his lips, then waves you closer. “Help niichan out?” His eyes glint over, before his smile goes a little wider, and he whips the blood off the weapon onto the ground. “S’ your fault I had to do this after all. We can clean up together. Hm?”
Your breathing is so shallow that you can feel your heartbeat in between your ears. You aren’t sure why you nod. The guilt tastes bitter on the way down.
+
Rika was dead on impact. She didn’t have a chance, even after she fought so vehemently against what took your mom. You know that. Even if she didn’t get struck by misfortune then, she might’ve not lived past her teens.
Yuuta doesn’t seem to know. He also doesn't seem to consider the same for you either— letting you toy with the edge of his shirt where you’re curled into him in your too-small bed. The hospital wants you back for another check-up.
It’s true that you’ve already outlived your sister, but that doesn’t mean it’ll last forever. Yuuta nii doesn’t want to hear it. As he brushes your hair with his fingers, you scratch the arm where the IV’s always get attached with an absent minded pout. Until Yuuta notices, pouting down at you. “Are you still feeling dizzy? I can make you some green tea if you’ll let go of me for a few minutes. Lots of honey like you like.” You quickly shake your head.
To him this is final, the worst you’ll ever get, and in reality that’s probably not the case. You don’t tell him though. His deep eyes stay on you a little too long. “What’s wrong?”
Sometimes you wake up and can’t open your eyes past a blurry sliver, your head tight enough to make your skull feel like it’s caving in. Times where you have to clasp your stomach painfully tight to hold yourself together — stumbling in tears into Yuuta’s room. Like you’ll disintegrate in his arms unless you lock him around yourself. This isn’t as bad, but you still feel bad.
Feverish and cold all at once, achy where your stomach goes up and down. You can’t mention the possibility of having to go back into urgent care without aniiki spiraling, so you keep your mouth shut. “I don’t like green tea,” you guiltily admit instead, and stare up at him when he holds a few knuckles to your head, studying you.
His expression scrutinizes you a little tighter, before he pets over your crown. He presses a soft kiss onto your lips. It’s Rika that loved it, you want to say, but for some reason you can’t make the words come out. He sighs, slightly put out, but then nods. “If you’re feeling better later, maybe you can help Yuuta nii with the curry. Okay?”
“Mhm,” you smile up at him, and you can see how the muscles in his jaw unclench.
His soft hands cup your face intently, staring down at you too intently. It starts sweet, until the feeling of his breath dust over your face and you watch as he flicks his eyes all over you. “You look so much like her. I can tell now that you’re getting older though,” his thumb smoothes over your soft cheek. “We should see if there’s something in Rika’s stuff you can still wear.”
“Won’t be able to fit it anymore, niichan.” Your voice comes out apologetic, though you don’t know why.
“Hm. You might be right.” His look goes more distant before he pulls you closer. Legs tangled, arms loosely looped around you. “You’re still smaller than me though. Luckily.” He takes a deep breath, before nuzzling his nose into your crown to breathe long and deep. His warm hands trail over yours before squeezing. “I love you, you know that? Always will.”
You stare at the wall of mementos past Yuuta’s shoulder. Suffocatingly cram packed. Her pictures. Her music poster. Her pre-teen bottle of perfume you wear only on special occasions. Your hands stop toying with the edge of his shirt to brush instead along his forearm until you meet something that isn’t skin. Yuuta’s quiet, but his breathing is slightly pinched— you don’t mean to.
You glance between you two to the plastic your finger hooks onto. The bracelet she made in the hospital care ward for Yuuta that he still wears despite the fact that the color has long peeled off of the cheap beads. “You loved neesan, right?” Your lashes almost brush when you look back at him, watch him trap his tongue between his teeth for a moment as pink sits on his cheeks. His hand wraps around yours to tangle fingers.
“I… did.”
He swallows. “She made the hospital seem a little less lonely.” The mementos seem to stare at you from across the room as he speaks, and the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach refuses to fade. If anything, it gets more painful. Tighter. “We’re going to be together forever though. And I,” he squeezes your hand, voice fading to barely a whisper, “I love you. Love you so much.”
There's a cold slid over your fingers when he moves. You allow him to slip off the band, gently, and almost as if he wants to give it to you without you noticing, his fingers slide the cursed thing onto your hand instead. His smile is gentle, makes those dark eyes look a little less pressing. “When you’re cleared from going back to the hospital, we can find me a matching one. We still have to get married, right?”
The room feels cold.
“... Okay.”
+
“Let’s kiss?”
It’s too late to be early when the shared bed gets crowded over on your side. “St- I’m going to sleep, Yuuta nii. Stop.” You don’t open your eyes to the touch, definitely not to the gentle brush of his fingers over your lips when he gets too close. Always too close- it’s suffocating. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”
“Don’t be like that.” He sounds happy. He always sounds like that when it has to do with you, and it doesn’t take long for your eyes to flutter open when the thumb instead pushes into your mouth. “If we get married, this will be normal. Don’t pull back.” He pushes onto your tongue to make you hold it in your mouth all heavy and tasting of him, then leans in to push his forehead to yours. Deep, possessive eyes pinning you in place.
“You don’t want to?” It almost sounds mocking. You know you brought this on yourself. You asked to go home early, you asked to invite friends. Maybe this is payback the way big brothers give it. There’s tears that spring up anyway when his other hand slips under your shirt and he squeezes your soft belly. As the spit he wipes on your lips gets kissed away by an impatient sigh. “I’ve wanted to for such a long time. You wouldn’t ask me to wait more.”
“Yuuta nii. We’re siblings, aren’t we?” The ring glitters. Your hand is clenched into the front of his shirt as warm hands grab down your body— hands you love. Hands you trusted.
“Of course we are. That’s why I’m doing this, silly girl.” Hands that push your underwear down your round hips despite you fighting to keep them up. He giggles when you burn with embarrassment, before pressing kisses to your temple. “I love you. I love you, I love you. Who better to kiss you than big brother?” You shake your head, try to push- he doesn’t budge. Just keeps your body in place under his with his weight.
“G-get off of me, Yuuta! Stop being so weird!” You cry, pushing until he grabs your wrist and forces it down beside your head. He’s still smiling though, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like you’re still a child acting out. It’s that which makes you squirm more, and the glare digs into your forehead when he gets on top of you. “Stop~ I don’t want to kiss.”
Instead he laces his fingers with your ring hand, as the other patiently flutters down to rub over your pussy. You don’t want to. You don’t. Yuuta just smiles when he tilts his head to regard you, and squeezes your fingers a little tighter. “Rika-chan asked me to take care of you. Don’t get so mad.”
+
It’s getting cooler and cooler and cooler the longer he stands. Pressed in the corner of the sterile, greenish blue atmosphere with white sheets draped over your body. He takes a long, deep breath until the nurse finishes up with the checks, taking freshly drawn blood away in a vial. “You’re the guardian?”
The red stands out against your complexion as your restless sleep drifts deeper— he shifts in his seat to lace his hands together. “Her big brother, yes.”
She doesn’t bother to pretend to care when tapping her clipboard, gives a distracted smile. “The doctor will be here within the next hour, okay? Please wait here until then.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Yuuta’s quick not to let the smile quirk up onto his mouth when she’s already walking out before he finishes. As soon as the door falls into lock he gets up from the uncomfortable chair to kneel by your bedside and grasp your hand.
Soft. Small.
He hates to admit that he could spend hours here by your side; but the truth is the truth. He could, and he has. And he will, until it is no longer necessary.
Yuuta kisses your hand with a gentle smile, feeling your heartbeat thump under his lips. You mumble, he swears he can hear his name. “I’m here. Niichan’s here.” He smiles a little more when the soft fingers wrap back around his hand and he watches your expression relax even in your sleep. He can’t help it, the soft thumping against his cheek makes his entire body warm.
You’re so alive, and so close- every cell in his body yearns to be beside you. He kisses the area between your thumb and pointer in an attempt to soothe the feeling of biting down entirely. Instead he clasps your hand with two of his before standing up. “You would have loved Rika.” His mouth tingles. “She would’ve hated you- but you would have loved her. I think she would have been a bit jealous though.”
He dips to press a soft kiss onto your lips, humming softly when your warm breath dusts over his cheeks. “You’re so cute.” A few years ago, you would’ve had visitors waiting for you. “I know you were looking forward to graduation, but I’m still here for you.” He places his hands on both sides of your face to hover over you instead of pulling back, can’t keep himself from it.
“You don’t want to leave your niichan, right?” It’s not your fault that everyone else wants you to move on. He’ll take you just as you are. He has to force himself to pull back before he kisses you again, so you don’t wake just yet. You will. And you’ll cry into his chest about missing your precious graduation, and about being stuck here again, just when you were getting better. He never much wanted you in uni anyway.
From his space sat on the edge of your bed, he can easily see how the blanket squirms. How the motion curls and wiggles until he easily pulls the sheet down your chest, then your stomach.
Two beady eyes stare up at him as he brings his face a little closer. The fly head is still clinging to your stomach, hasn’t moved from where he left it. By now it’s become an accessory every few months. It’s not strong enough to kill you— just barely enough to keep you believing you’re still sick, and that’s all he really needs. You need his care, need him. He resists the urge to pick the thing up at least until he can take you back home.
Instead he nudges it up a little higher, so he can place his palm onto your belly to stroke gentle circles in its place, feeling the heat through the gown. He can feel your heart bounce all the way down your body, it’s so cute. When the little fodder curse crawls onto your chest, lids shooting open as you gasp. “Yuuta nii-” Your eyes are lined red, and as soon as they find him you start bawling.
More than happy to let him hike you up from the bed and into his arms, where you bury your face into his neck. Your hiccups are so cute. It’s easy to kiss them quiet when you don’t have enough breath to ask him to stop. He’s sure this time he could slip his tongue into your mouth and you wouldn’t say a thing.
All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2024. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.
#jjk smut#jjk x reader#okkotsu yuuta#yuuta x reader#jjk yuuta#yuuta smut#tw.pseudocest#tw.grooming#tw.noncon#tw.yandere#tw.dark content#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu yuuta#🍯.honeypot
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NPMD Digital Ticket details!
Since not every can/can afford to/wants to buy the Digital Ticket for Nerdy Prudes Must Die (and the bonus material that comes with the purchase), for your inclusion purposes, here's a list of fun background details, funny moments and comments made in the track commentary, for you to use however you like!
Ruth doesn't actually need to wear her headgear anymore, but she wears it anyway because it makes her feel safe.
Jeff pitched a Nightmare Time episode about the problematic puppy from Steph's verse of High School Is Killing Me, meaning there is a story there.
In the line, "I learned that at the anti bullying assembly last month, fucknugget!" there's a long pause before "Fucknugget!" which really makes it sound like Max forgot to insult Richie and just threw the word out.
All of the little noises Ruth makes, she makes because she has more she wants to say, but she can't say them (presumably due to anxiety).
In the proshot, you can't see fully how low Richie goes while he and Ruth sneak up on Peter, but Jon is fully crouched down. He then uses Pete's pockets and elbows to climb up like he's climbing a mountain (he mimes using a pick or axe to get good hold).
While Steph is talking, Ruth and Richie try their best to hear through the phone by getting as close as they can to it.
The reason Max and Jason were in the Pasqualli's parking lot is that they were practicing their skateboarding. They do that at Pasqualli's instead of at school/at a skatepark because they don't want the smoke club and skater kids to make them look like noobs. (This was a cut bit from the Pasqualli's scene).
The line, "Some big... dumb... sexy... football star" is expanded. In the Digital Ticket, Grace says, "Some big... dumb... sexy... sweaty... hot... well-spoken... beautifully tall football star."
When they're in the boys bathroom, Steph jumps to see over the stalls.
Richie Naruto runs when they're going to Waylon Hall. Pete slaps his hands down, but after they pause to look at the house, Richie looks over his shoulders at Pete a couple of times before darting away from him, once again Naruto running.
Richie stops in the door at the Waylon Place, so Pete pushes him inside.
Ruth and Richie speak at the same time when they say, "I'm allergic to deodorant" and "I have overactive sweat glands."
Ruth goes straight to Richie to complain after the "pus in my pits" exchange with Steph.
When Steph suggests saying there's a party at the Waylon Place, Pete, Ruth and Richie all react negatively (mostly nervously groaning).
While Grace sings the "He's just a nerd in disguise!" line, Richie can be seen practicing the first move of the Bully the Bully dance.
After Ruth says, "We're gonna cut off his nips!" you can see Steph look confused and ask, "What?"
While Pete and Richie talk in the Waylon Place ("Am I reading as ghost or Lin Manuel Miranda" & "She came all the way out here just for you."), Ruth and Steph discuss and practice Ruth's skeleton moves.
Richie gets stuck in the dangling parts of Pete's costume when he says, "You could just hit it and quit it, bro!" He then aggressively detangles himself.
The line "He's just really fucking brave!" comes from Richie being jealous that he's not that brave.
Richie hypes Ruth up a bit after Max says her skeleton bit was really special.
Grace hides behind Ruth while Max is dying.
Richie rolls his eyes when Grace says "It was an act of god!" (Similarly, Shapiro sighs and looks away in disbelief when Grace later says "It was god's plan!")
Pete gags when Grace says "Hack all his limbs off." Richie can also be seen gagging and holding his stomach several times.
Ruth hands Max's nipples over to Grace after cutting them off.
Jeff Blim is the principal of Hatchetfield High. Not a character of Jeff's, just Jeff himself.
Brenda still seems quite judgmental after the two weeks have passed. She makes a lot of not-quite-friendly faces when the football team's talking about Richie smelling bad.
When Richie struggles to remove the Zeke the Fightin' Nighthawk costume, he accidentally removes his jacket as well, leading to Jon having to put it back on (which he also struggles with) (and which creates a funny situation, since Richie was supposed to go shower).
Richie seems to have hurt his leg by the second fall in Nerdy Prudes Must Die (the song).
After Steph tells Grace to "Leave Ruth alone!" in the principal's office, Ruth tries to grab Steph's hand.
The wig Joey wears when he plays Dan Reynolds isn't Dan's real hair. Dan Reynolds wears a toupée.
Trevor and Angela's drama student encourage each other after they finish rehearsing.
Additional line when Grace is lying to Shapiro: "Suddenly, I remembered a crucial detail that made everything make sense. A picture came flashing into my mind, like I was Enola Holmes!"
"My dad sells women shoe! Shoes!"
Angela misses the chair at Beanie's and falls on her ass, leading to her, Joey and Mariah (mostly Mariah) breaking character.
During The Summoning, Tinky focuses ONLY on Pete. The entire time, he looks like he's restricting himself from lunging out and attacking him. At one point, he points at the Bastard's Box while staring at Pete.
90% of the time during The Summoning, Pokey's staring at his own mask.
Steph facepalms after Max says "That's nasty! ... I like it!"
#yes a lot of these are richie and ruth#im hyperfixating dont mind me#starkid#hatchetfield#hatchetverse#nerdy prudes must die#starkid npmd#npmd#nerdy prudes must die digital ticket#npmd digital ticket#ruth fleming#ruth npmd#max jägerman#max npmd#richie lipschitz#richie npmd#pete spankoffski#pete npmd#steph lauter#steph npmd#jason jepson#jason npmd#grace chasity#grace npmd#detective shapiro#brenda npmd#dan reynolds#trevor lipschitz#trevor npmd#tinky hatchetfield
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Part 6: Leaps of Faith
Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5
I hope that you catch me, cause I'm already falling (you put your arms around me and I'm home)
(In which a writer who can see the end approaching starts building towards that ending)
Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd
Themes: Angst and Fluff
Words: 8.0K
TW: Swearing, Alludes to Sexual Content
A/N: Good evening my lovelies <3. Happy Sunday and Happy Mothers day! First of all, I wanna thank y'all for being ever so patient with me. I know I've been pretty bad about updating lately and y'all have been so sweet with your asks and I really appreciate it. This fic is very close to its end. I probably could have ended it with this chapter but there's a very specific ending I want to write so this one is more of a self-indulgent filler but I think y'all will like this one. There will be one more chapter and then an epilogue of sorts. Once again, there are most likely logistical inaccuracies. I'm not even gonna lie, the editing on this one is shoddy so there are definitely grammar errors/typos. For now, ignore them and I'll go fix them later. As always, even if we're near the end, feel free let me know what you liked, what you didn't and anything you'd like to see before we get to the end. Have a wonderful week my angels <3
April 2024
“It’s a little early for ice cream hon,” Azzi jumps at the sound of her mother’s voice, startled eyes following the direction of the noise to find Katie leaning against the kitchen door, with a raised eyebrow.
“It’s a little early to scare the living bejesus out of me mom,” she says with a hand to her chest.
If possible, Katie’s eyes roll even further at her daughter’s sarcastic tone as she makes her way over to the kitchen counter. She’s gotten herself a spoon and everything, ready to steal some ice cream for herself, when she notices the flavour. Next to her, Azzi stiffens.
“You hate mint chocolate chip Az,” Katie says quietly.
“I couldn’t find the strawberry ice cream,” Azzi defends stubbornly, her face taking on a guarded expression.
Katie walks over to the freezer, opening it and pointing at the strawberry ice cream, Azzi’s favourite, that’s sitting in plain sight, “it’s right there.”
“Well,” Azzi splutters, “I’m trying something new,”.
“You hate trying new things.”
“I’ve grown up I guess.”
“Azzi.”
“Mom.”
“Azzi, why are you eating ice cream you hate at 4 in the morning?” Katie finally asks in her best mom voice, sighing when she gets a mumbled response from her daughter, “in words Az, please.”
“Paige likes it,” Azzi admits slowly, and before Katie can say anything, before Azzi can dwell on what she’s said, she launches into a rant, “god knows why. Actually I know why because she’s stupid and weird and likes the dumbest shit. Who the fuck likes mint? Who the fuck likes mint and chocolate together? Gross. This shit is disgusting. It tastes all wrong. Paige is just-,” Azzi throws her hands up in the air, “she just doesn’t understand that some things don’t belong together. They can’t. They’re too different and it just- there’s a fucking balance to things you know? And she just- she doesn’t get that. It’s just- it’s not meant to be.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re eating it right now,” Katie says carefully.
“Because I miss her,” the truth bursts out of Azzi like an erupting volcano, burning itself into every crevice of her skin, “because for some fucking reason I don’t hate the taste of mint chocolate chip. Because maybe they do go together and maybe I’ve been the stupid one this whole time.”
Since she’d stepped out of the hotel in Cleveland, all Azzi could think about was going back, saying fuck it to all the useless logic she’d come up with and going back to the only thing in her life that had ever made sense her Paige. But as it often did in that clichéd battle between head and heart, her head had won out. And she’s never questioned why her head wins so much, why she’s always chosen to listen to the practical side of her brain, until now. Until now when the urge to turn back time, to make herself stay in that hotel room, is all that’s consumed her for the last week.
“Azzi,” Katie wraps her arms around the younger girl, “what happened with you and Paige?”
Azzi hesitates for a second and then everything’s spilling out of her lips, the good, the bad, the inbetween, all of it tumbles out like an uncontrollable waterfall. There’s something freeing about being able to say it all out loud, something freeing about the tears Azzi finally lets roll down her cheeks. She grips the edge of the counter to keep herself from keeling over, starting to feel herself crumble under the heaviness of all these stupid feelings.
“It shouldn’t be this hard,” Azzi whispers, “we used to be so easy.”
“Oh Az,” Katie rubs a thumb against her daughter’s cheek, “you used to be kids. You’re all grown up now. It’s always harder when you’re older.”
“Well, I don’t like it. I just want to be the way we were again.”
“So why don’t you?” Katie asks like it’s the most simple solution in the world and Azzi shoots her mother an exasperated look.
“What do you mean? How do we even do that? We can’t be just friends again. We tried. Were you not listening at all?”
“Azzi, sweetheart, you’ve never been just friends.”
“That’s not true,” it’s a futile attempt at arguing against what’s become more of a fact than an opinion in Azzi’s life. It’s a truth she’d let herself acknowledge once and then buried deep within her, scared that once unleashed, it would ruin everything. Except, it turns out, even without it, things had still turned to dust.
“Do you remember when you came home from Minnesota that first summer with Paige? You were either moping around or you were on call with her. There was no in between. It got better eventually, the moping stopped but the calls? I think you fell asleep on facetime with her almost every night. And you were tired every morning after, you barely had time to eat before school but every time I suggested that maybe you cut back, that was never an option,” Katie smiles fondly, “it’s when I knew.”
Azzi does remember, remembers talking about everything and nothing, remembers laughing and crying, remembers when Paige’s breathing was the only lullaby that could relax her into sleeping. And she remembers battling with that voice in her head, the one convinced there’s something more, silencing it with I’d do this with anyone. But that wasn’t true then and it’s not true now because Paige has never been just anyone, never been just a friend. Because even if Azzi’s never been brave enough to say it out loud, Paige is and has always been everything.
Despite knowing the answer and maybe dreading it just a little bit, Azzi asks it to her mom anyway, “what did you know?”
“That she was your person. You were too young, I couldn’t call it love just yet but I knew Paige was different then, she was yours in a way none of your other friends were. You were different around her,” Katie nudges her daughter, “Azzi you’ve always been just a little bit in love with her and she’s always been just a little bit in love with you too. The two of you have just been a matter of time.”
Azzi closes her eyes, and unlike other people, she doesn’t see darkness or little spots of light, she just sees Paige. Her mother’s words wash over her, like acid in her self-inflicted fight the feelings wounds and yet, the idea of she’s loved me too feels like a band-aid being delicately placed on the scars of her heart.
“And place,” she whispers, eyes still closed, “we never seem to get time and place right.”
“Why do you need to?”
Another exasperated look is sent Katie’s way at that question, “we live on different sides of the country mom, what do you mean why do we need to?”
“I mean the two of you have barely ever been in the same place. But you made it work, when you had even less, when you felt even less. But you’re adults now. You have other resources now. And I know timing is difficult but- it’s you and Paige. What are you so scared of Azzi?”
Azzi sucks in a deep breath, “what if Paige runs away again?”
“What if you run away again?”
“Excuse me?”
“Who was the last person to walk away, Azzi?,” Katie sighs when Azzi is adamantly silent, “I know she hurt you by leaving. I know she hurt you by pushing you away. But you did the same thing. You chose UCLA,” Katie holds up a hand when a frustrated Azzi tries to interrupt, “and it was the right decision for you Azzi and she should have supported it. But that doesn’t meant you didn’t hurt her and then you chose Zoe-”
“I didn’t choose Zoe-”
“Yes you did Azzi. Sweetheart you’re my daughter and I will always tell you the complete truth even if it’s not what you wanna hear. And the truth Azzi is that Paige might have hurt you in 101 different ways but that doesn’t mean you didn’t hurt her back in 99 different ways too.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Azzi whispers, “that’s the problem mom. It hurts when she hurts me but it hurts even more when I hurt her. I don’t want that for us but I just- I just don’t know how to stop it without stopping us.”
“You haven’t even tried, baby. Paige held out a hand and you ran away.”
“She left first. How am I supposed to trust that she won’t just do that again," all that’s missing from Azzi’s stubborn whine is a foot stomp.
“Because she came back. It took her a little bit, I know, but she came back and she’s ready to fight, the question is, are you?”
“Why are you defending her?” Azzi splutters, “who’s side are you even on?”
“There are no sides to this sweetheart. The two of you are on the same side. So maybe instead of fighting against her, take that hand, fight with her.”
***
The WNBA draft is a momentous occasion this year. With a hyped draft class like no other, and the promise of even greater ones in the future, there’s a sense of celebratory hope dangling in the air. When the invite had first come in, Azzi had known the same one would be sent to a certain blonde in Connecticut as well. And a part of her had wanted to hide herself away from that possible collision, but every other part of her wanted nothing more than to get just a glimpse of the blonde.
One moment Azzi is surrounded by flashing cameras and the echo of her name on everyone’s lips, the next everything around her is fading away her eyes meet Paige’s on the other end of the WNBA draft orange carpet. It’s nothing new really. Since she’s met her, the blonde has commandeered all of Azzi’s attention whenever she’s nearby. Sometimes it feels like all of her other five senses fade away to give birth to a secret sixth one, one that’s solely dedicated to Paige, one that’s terrifyingly all-consuming. And yet, despite the heaviness of we’ve said too many goodbyes, for the first time in what feels like eternity, Azzi feels like she can finally breathe.
And then Paige looks away.
And Azzi’s back to struggling for air.
It’s selfish of her, she knows, to expect something, not when she’d been the one to leave them stranded on different islands. But Azzi doesn’t seem to think logically when it comes to Paige and even as she tries to turn her focus back to posing for the camera, every inch of her body is dangerously aware of the blonde’s every move, just a mere few feet away from her. Her conversation with her mother is echoing in her head, giving rise to dangerous desires of what if i grabbed your hand and we ran away together.
Paige is a natural on the orange carpet, all dazzling smiles and twinkling eyes. She glides through it, inching closer and closer to Azzi, but never giving away any sense of discomfort. And if it was anybody else, maybe they’d never catch onto the nerves hidden beneath Paige’s facade of calm, cool and collected. But once upon a time Paige used to be Azzi’s favourite puzzle and she has every part of the blonde committed to memory. It’s in the way Paige’s teeth gnaw at her lips for the briefest of seconds, in the way her right index finger is begging to tap a beat against where her hands rests on hips, in the way she’s blinking just one too many times.
And then with one more heavy footed step from Paige, the distance between them is barely a couple inches and they let out identical breaths of air, both of them keeping their focus on the cameras in front of them. It’s loud, too loud, and still all Azzi can focus on is the sound of Paige breathing. The air around them is thick with tension. It feels a bit like they’re silhouetted against a sky made of words they’ve left unsaid and clouds of all the bitter mistakes they’ve made are hanging over their heads. And when their pinkies brush together, and a jolt of electricity sends shivers of I miss you more every day again her skin, Azzi questions if she’s ever made the right decision when it comes to Paige.
“Wait wait wait,” Ari cuts in, as she squeezes herself in between the two of them, “I wanna get in between the two of you.”
A harsh cry of no sits heavily on the top of Azzi’s tongue as the older woman forces a break in whatever little bit of contact she’d had with Paige. She feels a little pathetic, the way every little inch of her skin is craving for that touch back. It had been nothing, a barely there moment and still Azzi thinks, when she goes to bed tonight, if that was all she’d get of Paige, then it’ll be the only thing that’ll feature in her dreams.
“Alright one with just Paige and Azzi,” Ari directs the media, stepping out of the way and pushing the two younger girls together. And it’s laughable that a little brush of their pinkies had Azzi feeling any type of way because when they’re suddenly pressed together, every inch of Paige’s side fitting into Azzi’s like it belongs, the way the world suddenly bursts with light and colours makes Azzi wonder if every moment without Paige has simply been monochrome.
It comes to them naturally how to pose together, arms winding around each other’s waist, heads involuntarily leaning against the other’s. And the smiles might be for the cameras but Azzi knows hers is the most real it’s been all night. It might be temporary, she might lose Paige in the chaos, but for now Paige is here and Azzi has learned how to be content with whatever little she can get.
As the media moves to capture other people, the logical thing to do would be to separate, to let go of each other. But instead they stand there, still completely wrapped around each other, heart rates in sync as they breathe in each other’s presence. And then Paige’s hand falls from the small of Azzi’s back to tangle their fingers together and they let out identical sighs of relief, something so cathartic in the purposefulness of that touch. Everyone is too busy to notice that the two of them have fallen into a whole other world, one where there’s only two of them and every emotion that they’ve only reserved for the other. There’s no words exchanged as Paige guides the two of them out of the spotlight, somehow keeping their hands clasped together in secret, despite the ever growing crowd. And Azzi doesn’t know this building at all, doesn’t have the faintest clue where she’s being led to, but as long as it’s Paige pulling her along, she doesn’t care where, she thinks she’d go anywhere.
Paige stops abruptly in a secluded corridor, turning to fully face Azzi. And the sincerity in the blonde’s crystalline blue eyes, as they roam every inch of Azzi’s body before coming to fixate on her face, steals the air away from Azzi’s lungs. Paige has gotten better over the years at building walls, but with every new lock she places on her emotions, there’s a key to open them that seems to always find its way to Azzi. In the delicate golden hue, Paige shines brighter than any star ever could and in the dim light Azzi can make out every bit of hurt and love and please can we just have this moment that Paige can’t put into words.
“Hi,” Azzi whispers softly, hands itching to reach out and caress Paige’s skin.
“Hi,” Paige says back, even quieter. She stares at Azzi as if she’s memorising every little detail and then her face crumbles. Azzi feels her heart drop at the single tear that trickles down Paige’s cheek as she lets out a broken whimper. And this, this unspoken power they seem to have over each other, the uncanny ability to just hurt each other without any bit of effort, is what scares Azzi the most. It’s too much. They shouldn’t be able to do this.
“Paige,” Azzi’s fingers twitch but she hesitates, not knowing if it’s the right thing, “fuck- P what’s wrong?”
Paige doesn’t reply, eyes wandering down to where Azzi’s trying to keep her hands still against her sides and when she looks back up, her eyes are bloodshot, “what’s wrong? What’s not wrong Azzi? You won’t even fucking touch me.”
“I didn’t-” Azzi struggles to speak, “I didn’t think you’d want me to.”
“Can you just- fuck- can you just stop overthinking things for once in your life. Of course I want you to touch- you know what nevermind. This was a bad idea. You made yourself clear and I’m just- fuck- I should- I should just go.”
She sounds adamant enough but all it takes, when Paige moves to leave, is the strangled cry that leaves Azzi’s lips. The sound is enough to pull Paige right back in. She takes one look at the tears brimming in Azzi’s eyes. And then she’s pushing Azzi against a wall, hands on either side caging the younger girl between her body and the hard surface behind. She presses their foreheads together and Azzi feels like every part of her might just be a part of Paige too.
“I miss you. I miss you so fucking much. It’s barely been two weeks and I- fuck- Azzi- I’ve missed you every single second and now you’re here and I still miss you. And it really fucking hurts.”
“I’m sorry,” Azzi whispers, finally letting her hands cup Paige’s cheeks, and it’s worth it for the way Paige seems to completely melt into her touch, “I’m sorry I keep hurting you. I keep thinking I’m doing the right thing but- I don’t know- I feel like I’m always doing the wrong thing when it comes to you. I don’t- I don’t know what to do.”
“Just let me be with you,” Paige’s voice is wrecked with desperation as she presses herself as close to Azzi as possible, “I’ll be your whatever- whatever you give me- whatever you want- I just- I just want you Az- whatever little bit you’re willing to give me- I’ll take it- and if you want me to wait- fuck Azzi- I’d wait forever- you know that right? However long it takes, baby. Just want you- just want us.”
Leaps of faith are scary. Azzi’s never been great at taking them, too cautious, too much of a worrier. She’s more of a step back from the cliff kind of person. If she doesn’t jump, she can’t fall. But here’s the thing, when she was fourteen, Azzi jumped off of her first hypothetical cliff. It had been on a plane, when after avoiding one too many deep questions, Azzi had admitted to a girl she barely knew,that maybe she could like girls. It was the first time she’d ever let herself acknowledge that truth about herself and the girl next to her was a stranger but there was something about her, something that screamed i’ll hold your hand and if you jump it’ll never be alone. And ever since then, that girl, Paige, has always been there. Hands outstretched, ready to jump off any ledge. Because if there’s hard ground underneath, then they’ll learn how to fly together and if there’s water, they’ll figure out how to swim. With Paige there has always been the promise that, whatever it is, they’ll figure it out together. And it’s with that promise in mind, that Azzi takes the leap of faith.
“Me too,” Azzi whispers, heart beating erratically.
“What?” Paige searches Azzi’s face, as if waiting for her to take it back.
“Us. You. You and me. I want that too,” a ghost of a smile begins to creep onto Azzi’s face, and for the first time in god knows how long, she feels feather light, a little bit like she’s floating on a rainbow.
“You mean it?” Paige asks earnestly, hands moving from the wall to clutch at Azzi’s waist, “don’t play-Azzi- okay- you mean it for real?”
“I do. I want this- I want this so much and I’m still- I’m still really scared and maybe it’ll be a disaster but I- I want to try. With you.”
Azzi used to think she knew all of Paige’s smiles. Her small, not quite fake, but only for cameras and people she didn’t quite know, smiles. Her just for my friends smile that was filled with mirth and childlike joy. Her basketball smile that transformed into a smirk when she got too cocky. Her only for Drew smile, soft and filled with so much adoration and pride. Her Azzi smile, the one only the brown-skinned girl gets to experience, a smile that made Azzi’s her heart swell with love. But the smile that stretches across Paige’s face now, is one Azzi’s never seen before. This one throws Azzi’s entire world of balance, so bright, so big, so full of emotions. If she could, she’d tattoo that smile onto her skin forever.
“We’re really doing this?” Paige asks, still a little stunned. It wasn’t what Azzi had planned for tonight. She hadn’t really had any plans for what would really happen. But then Paige had walked in and all Azzi could see was forever she was tired of fighting against.
“We should take it slow okay-” Azzi wraps her arms around the older girl’s neck, keeping their foreheads still against each other’s, “I don’t- I don’t wanna rush into things and fuck it up. I can’t- fuck- I can’t lose y-”
“You won’t,” Paige swears, squeezing at Azzi’s wait, “I won’t let you. We can take it slow. We can take it however you want- I just- we’re doing this?”
“Yeah,” Azzi can’t help the grin that fills up her entire face, “yeah we’re doing this.”
And as they surge forward to claim each other’s lips, and as they meld every inch of themselves into each other, and as they smile and cry into the kiss simultaneously, and as they etch promises into each other skin, and as they let themselves finally fall into each other, for each other, it feels a lot like coming home.
***
July 2024
The early morning sunlight casts a dark shadow across Paige’s face, causing the still asleep blonde to scrunch up her face in irritation. Azzi, who’s been awake for nearly half an hour now, can’t help the fond smile that creeps onto her own lips. She shifts herself to block the sun and Paige lets out a content sigh, burrowing herself further into her pillows. And the thing is every moment with Paige is special but there’s something about waking up to her in the morning. Azzi’s always awake first and it gives her ample time to just admire the girl in her arms, blond hair tousled all over her pillow, lips parted slightly open, and one arm always, always, splayed across Azzi’s torso, holding her close. Over the course of time, Azzi’s found out that the second she moves, Paige seems to feel her leave, waking up instantly.
There had been an adjustment period if Azzi's honest. It had taken her a while to shake that fear of Paige not being there in the morning. The first morning, she’d been scared to open her eyes, even if she could feel Paige’s presence right next to her. That had been one of the few mornings that Paige was fully awake first, hovering above Azzi to wake her up. And when she finally did get the courage to open her eyes, the first thing Azzi had seen was Paige, blue eyes sparkling with unfiltered adoration, a smile filled with promises of every morning just like this. And that had been enough.
Azzi reaches out to brush a hand through Paige’s soft blond hair, mesmerised by how pretty Paige looks in the morning glow. A lot of Paige belongs to the world now and Azzi’s not opposed to sharing really, because someone so fucking perfect, deserves to be celebrated like that. But there are some parts of Paige that belong to Azzi and Azzi only, some parts Azzi cherishes as being only hers. This is one of them and Azzi takes a snapshot of it, knowing she’ll need it to function in a few months, when she won’t get the real thing.
“Are you watching Paige sleep?” Azzi almost jumps at the sound of Drew’s voice at the doorway, having been too immersed in Paige to have even heard the door open, “that’s kinda creepy Azzi.”
“Jesus Drew, whatever happened to knocking?”
“I forgot?” Drew grins, before he plops on the bed, the force of it making the whole frame shake a little bit.
“Drew!” Azzi chides, “you’re gonna wake her up.”
Drew cocks his eyebrows, sparing his sister, who seems unphased by the sudden little bit of chaos around her, still fast asleep, an unimpressive look, “please she can sleep through anything. Besides, it’s already 9. I thought we were gonna do things. I been up for aaaages.”
“She’ll be awake soon,” Azzi smiles, ruffling the younger boy's hair. Drew rolls his eyes and it’s remarkable how much he resembles Paige, not just by face, but the mannerisms too.
He huffs for a second before his eyes sparkle with an idea, “what if we pour water on her!”
“Drew!” Azzi chastises again, trying not to giggle.
“Boo,” Drew crosses his arms across his chest, “you used to be so cool Azzi.”
Azzi laughs as she’s reminded of a younger version of herself, scheming with Drew on how to wake Paige up. And it’s not that she’s beyond that really, tucking the water idea for a rainy day, but Paige looks too peaceful this morning and she wants to preserve that look of serenity on the older girl’s face for just a little bit longer.
“Hey Azzi,” Drew says after a while and Azzi hums in response, “when you and Paige get married, I can still be a groomsman right? Even if there’s no grooms?”
“Wha- where did that come from?” the brunette’s eyes widened at the question, sitting up a little straighter.
Drew peers up at her with all the innocence of a pre-teen, “you are gonna get married right?”
“I don’t-”
“It’s too early for your yapping Drew,” Azzi’s saved from answering by Paige’s tired voice entering the conversation. She looks over to find Paige’s eyes already on her, a soft smile playing on her lips as she looks up at Azzi. If Drew wasn’t sitting right there, Azzi would lean over and kiss her and let Paige deepen it until they were both satisfied.
“Oh thank god,” Drew cheers dramatically, “I thought you were gonna sleep forever.”
Paige scoffs, the arm that’s still wrapped around Azzi’s torso tightening its hold, “I wish.”
“Well you’re awake now so get up,” Drew whines, moving from his spot on the end of the bed, to flop on top of Paige’s body instead, “get up, get up, GET UP.”
“Get off,” Paige groans but there’s no real force behind it. Azzi watches with a fond smile, as Paige flips Drew over so that she can tickle him, eliciting rounds of laughter from the younger boy. Something in her heart flutters, her mind going back to Drew’s question. She’s never really been one to think too hard about marriage and children and that domestic suburban life, leaving it up to fate, but now- well, maybe.
“Okay aight aight enough. Go get ready for breakfast and we’ll be down in a second,” Paige says, ushering Drew off of the bed.
“You can just tell me you want me to leave so you can kiss Azzi you know?” Drew scrunches up his nose, “you two are gross.”
Paige sends him a stern look and gets a dramatic eye roll in return but as he always does, Drew does as he’s told, mock saluting the two of them and skipping out of the room.
“He’s right by the way,” Paige says softly, turning back to where Azzi’s leaning against the backboard, “I do want to kiss you.”
Azzi smirks lopsidedly, “what’s stopping you?”
She squeals in surprise when Paige pulls her, the force of it causing both of them to tumble onto the front-end of the bed. Azzi ends up on top of Paige, hands resting around her neck, the blonde’s hands holding her waist in place.
“Good morning,” Paige grins, clearly proud of herself as she chases Azzi’s lips to pull her into a searing kiss.
“Good morning,” Azzi whispers back, thumb caressing Paige’s left cheek.
“Just so you know,” Paige pulls away, a determined glint in her eyes, “we’re so getting married one day.”
***
October 2024
Azzi’s mood has been rancid for the last couple of weeks. It’s terrible she knows; it makes her irritating to play with and a nightmare to live with. But even if this had been expected, that she would be on one end of the country and her heart would be on the other side, it doesn’t stop her from constantly being in a state of missing Paige. And it’s different from before, now that there’s a certain surety of of course i’ll see you soon but soon never really feels soon enough.
“Azzi can you please get the door,” Kiki calls from her room when the doorbell rings.
“I’m busy,” Azzi grunts back, snuggling further into her pillow with a book she isn’t actually reading, “you go get it.”
“Azzi please, I’m literally in the middle of getting dressed,” Kiki yells exasperatedly.
If it wasn’t for the fact that she’s pretty sure her teammates are about this close to plotting her murder, and deservedly so, Azzi would sink back onto her bed and let the incessant doorbell noise continue. But she does love her teammates, thinks Kiki probably deserves to change in peace, and it forces her out of bed, grumbling away about annoying visitors. Until she actually gets a look at the visitor. Paige stands on the doorstep, confident as ever, a bouquet of roses and peonies and lilies in her hand.
“You’re here,” Azzi breathes out, staring in awe.
“And thank fucking god she is,” Kiki quips from behind her, “maybe we can finally get our old happy Azzi back and not this bitch.”
Paige laughs, “watch how you talk about my girl Rice.”
“You’re here. You’re really here,” Azzi whispers again.
“I heard you missed me baby,” Paige says, her cocky smirk betrayed by the softness in her voice. And then Azzi is flying into her arms, throwing Paige off balance.
“So fucking much,” Azzi admits into Paige’s neck, eliciting a giggle from the blonde, “Kiki’s right. I have been a bitch.”
“Just a little bit,” Kiki calls out again but there’s a new fondness in her voice. It’s funny how her team, even the haters, have slowly become Paige fans. They’d been hesitant at first, just like the UConn girls, but now well, it seems the basketball world’s Montagues and Capulets have learned to accept their star players’ relationship.
“Missed you too Az,” Paige’s tone is vulnerable as they break away, “alright, go get changed, I wanna take you somewhere.”
“Or…,” Azzi presses her lips to Paige’s neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, “we could stay here and do something else.”
Paige shivers under her touch, stepping away to keep some semblance of control “n-no I have plans,” but she can’t help but kiss Azzi’s pout away, “it’ll be worth it, I promise. Besides,” she bites at Azzi’s ear, “there’s always later.”
***
“Your big plans are to bring me to the supermarket,” Azzi cocks an eyebrow as they walk down one of the many aisles, “you turned down sex for this? Should I be offended?”
Paige doesn’t say anything, concentratedly looking at signs, trying to figure out a specific section, before an aha! moment dances over her face, and she pulls Azzi with her, the younger girl going willingly, despite the eye roll. She stops triumphantly in front of the sushi section and Azzi looks at her quizzically.
“I’m getting you supermarket sushi,” Paige says pointedly, “and then you can get me mac and cheese.”
And if you brought me sushi I’d have brought you your favourite mac and cheese. Oh. The realisation of what Paige is doing trickles around Azzi a little bit like rain after a long summer drought. She thinks back to the bouquet, everything suddenly making sense.
“You’re such a dork Paige Bueckers,” Azzi says softly, tapping the older girl’s nose.
“Your dork,” Paige grins cheesily, “now hurry up and pick one. I don’t wanna miss the sunset.”
***
Once she catches on it, it doesn’t surprise Azzi to find that Paige has everything planned out perfectly, down to the exact spot in the park- the one by Paige’s recovery airBnB, the one they’d taken countless walks in trying to repair their friendship- where the two of them can be away from everybody else, in their own little bubble. And she has a picnic blanket, that’s a little small but they don’t really want space from each other anyways. They lean against a tree, food set up in front of them, Paige’s laptop, carefully piled on top of a couple of books to be the perfect height, set a little bit further away.
“So what NBA game are we watching?” Azzi asks with a smile and Paige groans, “what? Was that not part of the plan?”
“Dude come on. It’s the beginning of October. Please tell me you know the NBA season isn’t happening yet,” Paige rubs her temple, only a little endeared by the comment, “are you sure you’re a basketball player?”
“There are games in October. I swear I’ve seen them before,” Azzi says sceptically.
“Yeah at the very end of the month, not right now.”
“Well then close enough,” Azzi says indignantly, “I don’t need to know the exact day.”
“Whatever you say baby,” Paige acquiesces with a smirk and it earns her an elbow to the stomach, “what the fuck? That shit’s domestic violence you know?”
“Big words Bueckers, didn’t think you knew them,” Azzi teases, placing a kiss against Paige’s offended expression, before settling herself against the blonde’s side, sighing contentedly when she gets a kiss on her temple in return. They’re cliché enough to put on Love and Basketball, but Azzi doesn’t really end up watching much at all. In between slow kisses, she almost falls asleep a couple of times, the comfort of Paige’s arms like a blanket wrapping her in the warmth of this is my fairytale.
“THE POLAROID,” Paige’s shout breaks Azzi out of her haze as she feels her body being shaken off, the blonde rummaging through her bag for the camera, “we have to take the polaroid. My wall needs it.”
“Oh yeah a tiny polaroid picture of us inbetween all your Lebron posters, a perfect fit,” Azzi drawls only to be met with a scathing look from Paige.
“It’s for important things and Lebron is the most important of them all,” Paige explains with complete seriousness, as she finally finds the polaroid camera and shimmies back to Azzi with it in hand.
The sunset is beautiful. Pink, purple, orange and blue, all blending together to create the perfect picture. But Azzi thinks it’s not nearly as beautiful as the girl in front of her, not nearly as beautiful as the date Paige had planned, not nearly as beautiful as the future she can so clearly see now. Her mind drifts back to the night of the phone call, and she can almost hear Paige’s sobs again, can still hear her own voice breaking. Back then, they had seemed impossible, a butterfly like dream that danced out of their grasp.
“Hey,” Paige captures her chin with two fingers, “where’d you go?”
Azzi shakes her head, “nowhere. I’m right here. With you. Where I should be.”
“Sappy goof,” Paige snorts but she kisses Azzi like she’ll take those words and hide them in the labyrinth of her mind, protect them there forever.
Taking the picture is a task, both of them bickering about angles and lights. It’s unnecessary arguing, in true Paige and Azzi fashion really but there’s something so mundanely domestic about it that Azzi finds herself wanting to memorise this moment too. They finally get the frame just right, somewhere in between what they both wanted. Azzi smiles at the camera, her Paige smile, as the blonde in question presses her lips against her cheeks.
Click.
And Azzi hopes, that however many years later, when they have a home of their own, amidst all the photos that they’ll take over the next years, this one will be hung somewhere on their wall, a testament to finally realising every dream they’d dared to dream together.
***
December 2024
There are pebbles being thrown at her window and Azzi has to stop herself from laughing when she peers down to see Paige, freezing cold in the Virginia December air, staring up at her with a goofy smile. She shakes her head when her phone rings, knowing it’s Paige and answers it with her own foolish grin.
“What exactly are you doing?” Azzi asks, “come back to bed.”
“You said I was unromantic. I’m trying to be romantic,” Paige’s teeth chatter in the cold, as she balances her phone in one hand, still throwing rocks with the other.
“I didn’t say that and throwing rocks at my window is supposed to be romantic? You’re going to wake the whole house up.”
“That’s what they do in all the good rom coms. And you said and I quote ‘we’re kind of boring’. You might be boring Azzi Fudd but I most definitely am not.”
It had been a throwaway comment Azzi had made at dinner with some friends from high school. One of her friends had been going on and on about some adventurous trip that she and her boyfriend were going on, and then asked Paige and Azzi if they had any of that planned. To which Azzi had replied that they were a little too busy, considering they were college basketball players still in season, and besides they were “kind of boring” people. She hadn’t meant it in any type of way. Personally, Azzi likes boring. Paige however, seemed to have taken the comment to heart and Azzi had woken up at 2 a.m. to an empty bed and the sound of something being thrown at her window.
“Okay I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You're really interesting baby and the most romantic person in the world. Now will you please come back to bed,” Azzi concedes, already missing the feeling of being cuddled up in her blankets with Paige’s body heat keeping her nice and toasty.
“No,” Paige says indignantly, “come down here.”
“Paige, it's freezing. It’s gonna start snowing any minute.”
“Exactly. That’s exciting.”
“Sleep is exciting,” Azzi whines, but she’s already padding around her room looking for a warm sweater, grumbling under her breath about the warm California sun she’s missing. She tiptoes down the staircase, wincing at the one step that creaks just a little too much, before pushing herself out the door. And it’s freezing cold, there’s sleep in her eyes, but it’s all worth it Azzi thinks, it’ll always be worth it, just to experience Paige’s smile.
“Knew you’d come,” Paige grins cockily, mittened hands pulling Azzi into her.
“Yeah yeah. What are we even doing?”
“Azzi Fudd,” Paige bellows dramatically, “may I have this dance.”
Azzi stares at Paige’s outstretched hand wondering if this is some sort of cry for help, but one look at Paige’s face tells her that the girl in front of her is being absolutely serious.
“This is your idea of exciting? Dancing in the street while it’s freezing with no music?” Azzi raises an eyebrow, but she takes Paige’s hand.
“It’s spontaneous,” Paige says the last word with a flourish, as she spins Azzi, “why not dance in the street when it’s freezing with no music?”
And well, that’s a fair point. If anyone were to look out their window that night, they’d probably think the two girls were somewhat crazy. Laughing and giggling and tripping over each other as Paige hums a melody and Azzi occasionally joins in. It’s ridiculous and corny and cliché and perfect. And then the first little bit of snow falls, white drops circling around the two dancing girls, snowflakes catching on their eyelashes. The dim glow of the streetlight is enough to catch identical smiles on the two girl’s faces as they revel in each other.
“You know some people say if you make a wish during the first snowfall, it’ll come true,” Paige whispers, still waltzing the two of them around, cheek pressed to Azzi’s, “you wanna try?”
And the thing is Azzi doesn’t really believe in all of that, in magic but something about Paige, something about this moment feels magical. It makes a believer out of Azzi.
“Yeah,” Azzi smiles, “let’s make a wish.”
They stand still, holding hands, eyes closed, both a little breathless, as they make their wishes. And when they open them, if it feels a little bit like maybe their wishes have already been granted, well they’ll share it in a secret smile but never out loud. After all, wishes don’t come true if you speak of them.
***
April 2025
7 seconds to go in the National Championship and Azzi’s UCLA Bruins are down by two points. It’s her last chance, having already declared for the 2025 WNBA draft, to win a national championship, to bring home their first basketball national championship since the 1978 team that had won the AIAW championship, to win their first NCAA championship ever. It had taken some sheer luck to get to this point if Azzi’s honest. As a two-seed in the Spokane region, they’d benefitted from their one-seed having been eliminated early and then getting to face a Cinderella six-seed in the final four. On the other side of the bracket, UConn, the favourites coming for a repeat, had been stunned by another team, the team that UCLA was now facing. That had caused a bit of a second-hand sting and Azzi’s not really trying to take revenge for Paige, but it'd be a lie to say the get back at them for me babe from earlier this morning isn’t ringing in her head.
The play is simple, set screens for Azzi, get her open, get her the ball. A two would get them to a tie and three would win it outright. Either will do. It’s a little too reminiscent of last year when Azzi had failed at tying the final 4 game and she can still feel that loss on the tips of her fingers. They break out from their last timeout, breathlessly running to their spots on the floor. The whistle blows, Kiki inbounds the ball and everything is a blur. All Azzi knows is the shot clock is winding down. She runs off of what feels like a million screens. And then she’s open on the wing, for a millisecond. A perfect pass from Kiki makes sure the ball lands straight in Azzi’s hand. And she doesn’t think, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t even notice the defender put up a hand, she shoots the ball. There’s two people on the court that know for sure that ball is going in the minute it leaves Azzi’s fingers, the shooter herself and her biggest fan in the stands, who’s been just a little bit in love with that shooting stroke, since before anything else had even begun.
With a delicate swish, the ball falls through the net, the buzzer sounds around the arena, the crowd explodes in blue and gold, as the UCLA Bruins win the 2025 national championship.
Everything stills in Azzi’s brain for a second, her thoughts taking a second to catch up to reality. She’s never really been one to emotion on the court, keeping herself steely guarded through most games, even at the very end. But now, triumph and pride and just utter happiness at finally achieving one of her biggest dreams, comes roaring to the surface, manifesting itself throughout her entire body, as she lets out a scream of joy. Her teammates engulf her and she gets lost in a sea of hugs and tears and bright, decadent smiles.
As thing start to calm down, there’s really only one thing on Azzi’s mind and Paige’s words echo in her ears, because if I’m gonna end up fucking crying, then I want it to be on your shoulder. And if I’m gonna end up celebrating, I want it to be in your arms. And Azzi thinks maybe Paige had discovered one of the biggest truths of their life with that, the truth that at the end of day, in any moment, big or small, happy or sad, the one person Azzi wants next to her, is her Paige. It’s been that way since she was fourteen, and too young to really understand the meaning of wanting someone forever, and she thinks if she has her way, it’ll be like that for the rest of her life, the rest of their life.
Paige is beaming in the crowd, standing next to Jon and José, a #35 jersey proudly adorning her torso. She waves when she catches Azzi’s eyes, always her biggest cheerleader. And Azzi throws caution to the wind, fuck it, not caring that there’s still a large crowd or that cameras are likely to follow her every move. She pushes her way into the stands, stopping right in front of the blonde.
“On a scale of one to ten, how bad would kissing you right now be?” Azzi asks, still a little breathless.
A myriad of emotions flicker through Paige’s face before settling on a mischievous smirk, “probably pretty bad but you should do it anyways.”
Azzi grins before merging their lips together and everything else fades to the background, until she’s consumed by nothing but Paige. They break apart far quicker than either of them would like and Azzi expects to feel just a little bit of fear at what she’s just done, likely given the media a spectacle they could run a million and one stories about but instead, with her forehead still pressed against Paige’s, she feels nothing but calm.
“I’m so in love with you,” Azzi whispers and Paige’s eyes widen. They’ve known it for a while now but it’s the first time either of them have said it.
“Say it again,” Paige demands.
“I’m so in love with you,” Azzi says again, grinning so hard, she thinks it might become her permanent expression, “like really fucking in love with you.”
“I’m so in love with you,” Paige whispers, pulling Azzi into a bone-crushing hug.
And this might not be the moment where everything finally comes together. There’s still so much life left to live, so much that they still need to work through, so much they’ve yet to deal with. But for now, Azzi has a national championship and she has the love of her life, the rest will work itself out, or so she hopes.
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"anger management"
TW: doggstyle fucking, public sex, nudity, profanity, p in v sex, slapping, unprotected sex, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, head (tom rec), mentions of mafia connections and gangs
Request: Can you do a 2010 Tom Kaulitz smut where he is a mafia good and she is a Mafia god as well and they meet to discuss some things and it gets freaky...anf she maybe first blows him. Then gets bent over a desk or the table or something...sorry if it's bad.
Rating: mdni, mature, explicit themes ahead
WC: 1.3k
mother's day special since i usually don't post 2 days in a row 🤭
You were so sick and tired of these goddamn meetings.
Every single week there was a new one, seemingly for no reason at all. You didn't even want to get into the mafia life, knowing it sucked. Your dad had forced you, promising loads of cash at your disposal, but there was none. He forced you to meet Tom Kaulitz, leader of one of the most dangerous gangs, and you pissed, to say the least.
You wanted to go home and sleep, you had gotten up at the ass crack of dawn to meet him in this stupid board room, and the bastard wasn't even here. He could've atleast given you the time of day, considering you were pretty important as well. Your father had a ton of control over this city, and you felt you deserved some respect.
You were fiddling with the pen on the desk, growing more angry by the second as tom still didn't show up. You huffed, and dialed your father, in the middle of texting him when the dickwad decided to show up.
"You're late" you said harshly, his face a frown as his eyes met yours. "sorry princess" he sneered, taking a seat across from you, eyes on his phone. There was an awkward silence as you both were on your phones, you trying to ask your dad why the hell he scheduled a meeting with this man.
"just try to get him on our side" he answered, and you groaned in annoyance. "something wrong?" tom's head perked up, seeing your eyes shut tightly. "my dad" you rumbled. "i know how that feels" he sympathized, and the air was tense again.
"so" you broke the silence, your hands now on the table as tom's gaze once more lifted from his phone. "i'm cutting straight to the chase, my dad wants your gang to be a part of our 'team' as he calls it. He promises you all a great amount of cash, in hand, if you agree"
You had said your part, and now you were waiting for tom to say his. "that's a very good proposition, but what about everything else?" he shot back, and you were at a loss for an answer. "all the bribes and stuff that people usually have for us, cars, guns, alcohol, all the regular shit they offer" his gaze was fiery, burning into yours.
You stuttered, not knowing if your dad would agree to his demands. "i-i'm sure I could discuss that with my father later" you hesitated. "One more thing, princess" He said softly, not breaking the eye contact you both had held for an uncomfortable amount of time. "if i'm agreeing to this so called 'deal', i need something to really convince me."
He crossed the room, his long strides making it quick as he stood by you within seconds. "All I ask for, is you for one small fuck. That's it." Your eyes widened in shock. "excuse me?" you were enraged by this request. "Then I'll agree" he spoke calmly, his fingers grasping your chin as he stared down at you, already envisioning all the dirty things he could do to you.
You were still sitting in the chair, debating on whether or not to let him fuck you for the sake of your dad's company. He was growing impatient, your hesitance annoying him as he waited for your answer. "You have one minute" he demanded, leaning onto the table as you thought it over.
"fine" you said quickly, agreeing. "splendid" he smiled wickedly, pushing you onto your knees without another word. "wh-what do you want me to do?" you asked innocently. "suck" you furrowed your eyebrows. "suck what? there's nothing here?" he laughed, and unzipped his pants, revealing his cock, a good eight inches. He pulled down his clothing, pushing your head forward so your lips met his cock, smiling as the leaking tip entered your mouth.
he faltered, his legs feeling weak as your tongue swirled around his cock, taking more into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks, your hands grasping his shaft so you could still pleasure what you couldn't take in. "f-fuck. keep doing that g-good and you got yourself a deal princess" he moaned, hips bucking up against your face.
He pulled your hands away, wanting to feel your mouth enclosed around his entire cock. As it hit the back of your throat, you gagged, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to keep him all in. He held onto your hair to stabilize himself, groaning in pleasure as he tugged on your hair viciously.
You bobbed your head up and down, his tip hitting your throat each time as your tears began to run down your face, taking his cock whole. He looked down, and saw you struggling to keep his dick fully in, so he helped you, his hips now directly against your face, your nose bumping right above him cock.
"oh fuck!" he groaned, his orgasm fast approaching. Your tongue continously swirled around his cock, feeling every vein as he shot his load down your throat, his eyes closing and his head tilting back in bliss.
You lifted yourself off the ground, wiping your tears and the edges of your mouth. He was still recovering from his high, panting breathlessly. "Was that the fuck you were talking about or do i need to do more?-" "more, please" he said with little breath, and you nodded. anything for him to agree.
He pushed you onto the table, your ass facing him as he slapped it harshly, making you yelp. He tore your clothes down, seeing the red mark. He slowly slid into you, his hands on your hips as he pushed in, your walls molding to fit his shape.
His hand held your hair once more, pulling your head backwards as your ass was right in front of him, bouncing with each thrust as you moaned, lying your head down on the wood. He thrust harder, hitting your g-spot perfectly each time as you gargled, too full even to speak, tears once more cascading down your face.
You looked so hot like this, he might just need you for more than one fuck. He laid down on your back, the heat between the two of you scorching. You could barely even believe what was happening. The leader of the best ranked gang was fucking you over a board room desk, where probably anyone could see.
His tip kissed your cervix as you writhed beneath him, his hand coming to hold both of yours behind your back as he buried himself deep inside you, your walls tightly gripping his cock, making him never want to pull out. Your pussy was so warm and tight around him, your walls clenching around him, already seeming to milk his cock for his impending orgasm.
He looked backwards, his thick cock slamming in and out of your hole. He slowly turned his head back around, biting into your shoulder. "oh my fuck!" you moaned, feeling your legs begin tremble in pleasure, a sign you were coming. "that's it baby, you're doing so good" he kissed the back of your neck, pushing your hair out of the way.
You came on him, your legs giving out soon after as you fell flat against the desk, face smushing on the hardwood. He was still pounding in and out of you, soon reaching his own high and pulled out quickly, his cum squirting onto your leg.
"i think we have a deal" he panted, caressing your hip. "But just one more thing"
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Do the Thing | Toilet Repair
logline; Today's itinerary: Fix the toilet, catch up with Syd, try not to cry when everyone asks you where you've been.
series history; Previous Chapter
portion; 7.1k+ (this shit got away from me man, idk what to say)
possible allergies; Negative self-talk (It's the Bear, babe, everyone's sad). I did no research on plumbing and am truly making it the fuck up-- I know for a fact I'm not using any word correctly and I simply will not be fixing it. Reader eats meat!! Specifically pork!! Your 'name' is 100% just Tony now.
pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'handywoman' and 'Miss' are said. Plus a chest reference).
you ever start writing and you just cannot seem to find an end so you keep going forever? yeah.
“I think my name is just Tony now.”
You sip your overpriced orange juice. You really have to fucking savour it, now a days. That’s like 25 cents a sip, and Syd’s treating you to this breakfast outing, so it’s not even your own wallet on the line here.
“You lose all sense of identity, in a restaurant.” Syd straightens her back, mocking her very own mechanical movements of whenever she steps in a kitchen. “I am Chef.”
This diner isn’t more than two blocks down from The Bear. It was probably your second favourite spot in this neighbourhood. Probably still is. Sitting in the back corner booth (your favourite) with Syd is nice but distracting. She’s been updating you on everything since the catering scene and her botched credit, and you’re absorbing all of it, you swear, it’s just hard to not remember why this was your favourite booth.
Not because it’s seats are the least worn in, not because it’s got the right amount of sun through the window without blinding you, but because of the company you kept here. You’re trying to not notice your own name carved into the table. Especially since it’s not your handiwork.
You laugh at Syd’s joke on time, thank God. No awkward pause. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are. Head, right?”
She nods. “It’s cool. It’s like, vomit-worthy stressful but also…”
“You wish you were dead when you’re there, but you’d rather be dead than do anything else?”
“Yessir.” She nods again, digging further into her pancakes. “I really fucking owe you, by the way.”
“You’re paying me off through breakfast.” You wave her off. “Plus, I was available and it was like maaayybe 5 minutes of manual labour, it’s nothing.”
“Y’know what?” She hums, “I think actually, you owe me.”
“Yeah?” You grin.” Please, let me clear my debts, Syd?”
She smiles, pointing her fork at you. “You owe me the fuckin’ Beef background I’ve apparently not unlocked. Everyone was talking about you after.”
“Good things?”
“Vague things. Shit made me even more curious.”
You laugh. No shit they’d be vague. What can they say? “When my dad was running the repairmen gig, Cicero or Fak would call him in—”
“Oh fuck.” She snaps her fingers, seemingly in realization. “Your dad’s the connection!”
“The connection?”
“Fak said he had a connection for our fire safety test shit, and then said he didn’t—”
“Ah.” You nod knowingly. “Dad cut the cord on his business phone when it transferred to me, didn’t really keep people updated. Whoops.”
She nods, taking another bite of her pancakes, speaking mid-chew. “You could’ve saved our asses way faster, and I’ll-I'll never forgive you, but continue.”
Snickering, you continue, “Well, they’d call my dad in, and then my dad would call me in as his like, like his fuckin’ Sous of Repairs. And shit broke all the time at the Beef, as I’m sure you’re well aware, so I hung out around Mikey and everyone a lot.”
“Ah. N’ then…”
“He fuckin’ died.” You laugh, because there’s no way to say it smooth, so you might as well say it bad. You stretch out your arms and lean back in the booth. “I kinda took a step back, after that, so we didn’t manage to crossover ‘til now. S’ironic that you’re the one that brought me back instead of an oldie, honestly.”
She desperately wants to ask more about Mike, but she can tell now is not the time, so she just lets it lie and moves on. “You stopped being an EMT to take up the handyman shit, then?”
“Yessir.” You nod, finishing your straggling home fries. “Just kinda made sense to trade off, and I didn’t want to see the family bizz die. Do I have to occasionally pick up shifts bartending to make rent during slow months? Yes. But I also don’t watch people die anymore, so that’s a win.”
“In a way, you’re watching people die still, just slowly.”
You bite down hard to stifle any semblance of a smile or laughter, deadpanning, just to see her squirm in awkwardness for a moment. It works with flying colours, of course it does. It’s Syd. She’s still Syd. You speak at the same time.
“Cause of the alcohol?” “Cause—Cause of the alcohol.”
You both break into laughter, she throws her napkin at you. “Can’t stand you, oh my god. Let’s go clock in.”
She pays your bill before you can try to sneak your card in, which feels all too familiar, and you’re off.
Off to fix an exploded toilet.
“How the fuck do you fix an exploded toilet?”
Your hands rub over your face, lifting your safety goggles for a second. Too fucking foggy. Too fucking sweaty. Plumbing never really was your biggest strength. You’re staring at the bane of your existence, and it’s the latrine. How far we fall.
“You good, Cousin?” You hear from behind. You don’t need to turn to know it’s Richie in the doorway. It’s a fair question, you’re sitting criss-cross in front of a toilet, head in hands.
“Yeah, Cousin, I’m good.” Your words are muffled by your hands. Fully not cousins. For the record. You would argue you're not even that close, but he'd slap you upside the head. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Can you like, get me a pen and note pad? I need to like, strategize an attack.”
“It’s not that bad, Cousin—” “It’s that bad.” “Just tape the—” “Fuck off with the tape!”
You click your teeth, staring at the gurgling porcelain before you— At least it’s clean, it’s just fucked. “I shut the valve and it didn’t do shit. I think I have to remove it entirely so I can see what’s going on with the underground pipe.”
“Heard.” Richie and you both know that his hotfix handiwork has absolutely contributed to this penultimate mess you’re in now, but you’re both letting that go quietly for now. “You charge by hour or service?”
“Service flat rate and then after two hours it’s by hour.”
He hums, knocking his fist on the doorway a few times before walking away. “Pen and pad, Chef.”
“Not a Chef!”
“Term of Respect, Chef!”
You tap your leg incessantly, groaning like you’ve got an 80-year-old body as you stand to your feet. Richie’s grown a lot. He wears suits now. Hasn’t even poked at you for vanishing. Though you have a feeling it’s coming. If not from him, from someone.
You step out into the hall, leaned against the wall with your arms crossed as you wait for your pen and pad. And now you just have more time and a better view to take in how much has changed.
Gutted. A few walls gone. Makes sense, you told Mikey he was getting a mold problem. He never listened. Seats are new. The booths are the all-around style ones now. Ritzy. It’s too good for this neighbourhood. Is that a good thing? Yeah, right? Despite the fact that The Bear should feel out of place, you feel out of place being in it. Could you afford to eat here? Could the people who work here afford to eat here? Syd said she’s not getting paid for the next few months, so at the very least, the Head Chef can’t.
“Strange?” Tina sidles up to you on the wall, wiping her hands on her apron. Completely knocking you out of your dissociative fugue state.
“Yeah.” You nod, a little too quickly, that felt judgey, you correct, uncrossing your arms. “It’s daunting, I think; to see it all at once rather than slowly built in. Like, I know objectively this is very cool, but—”
Tina hums with understanding. “Feels gutted?”
“Was gutted.” You nod. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it, it’s just, I dunno. Adjustment period, all that.”
“I needed a second too, but Jeff is good. Change has been good.” You nod like you know who Jeff is. “Carmen, I mean.” Your nod is now significantly more understanding. She smiles, you’re a little surprised to see Tina’s got a lot more insight than she used to. She pulled the thought of Carmen right out of your subconscious before you even detected it for yourself. “He’s good. You’ll see.”
You nod. You know the good she means is not Michelin Star Good. You already know that. He’s Mikey good. Person good. You clear your throat. “How’s Louis?”
“Good. Y’know, he’s getting to that age, getting in trouble. S’been a while since he’s had a good influence.” She nudges you. There it is. There’s the poke. The ‘where have you been?’ The ‘it’s been a year’. The— “Y’know, Chef didn’t come to the funeral neither.”
That one you didn’t expect, your head swivels to her hard. “Carmen didn’t go?”
His brother didn’t go? Oh, who the fuck are you to judge...
She nods, practically with her whole body, she looks more amused than anything. But like, mom amused. The worst amused. “You’re both the sensitive type.”
You cock your head at her, raising a brow. Smirking slightly. “Wow, Tina, I thought you changed too but you still talk your shit, eh?”
“I’m not talking shit!” She laughs, hands up in defence. “I’m just saying, you’re alike.” You hope that the laughter makes her forget the topic but it doesn’t.
“Where have you been?” She softens. She’s not asking to be mean, she’s asking out of concern. Why does that make it feel worse?
You tuck your hands in your pockets and retrain your eyes on hers, even if it feels bad. “Thought time and distance would heal all wounds.”
“Did they?”
Before you can answer, “Pen delivery, cousin!” Richie returns, triumphantly, with a pen and pad held high in the sky. He makes you jump for it. You elbow him in the gut, not hard. “Fuck off, Rich…” He keels over enough for you to grab it. “Thank you, chef.”
You turn back to Tina, who you now realize has spent half her smoke break on you. She nods to you, and then the bathroom door. “I’ll let you get back to it.” You nod in return. When she turns to walk away, you grab her shoulder.
“Tina.” She turns again. You should say something. Something vulnerable and thankful. Words of affirmation are not your thing. But maybe they could be, “If you end up with a dead plate—” Or maybe not.
She grins, and part of you is concerned by this, but she waves you off, giggling like she knows something you don’t. Already walking off. “You’re gonna be taken care of, Terry, don’t worry.”
This is a bad new nickname scheme. The fridge guy is just gonna end up being called ‘fridge guy’ if you take all his names.
It’s maybe three hours later. 11 am ish. You’ve finally put the toilet back in place, the pipes fixed underground— Which is a huge win of progress, the problem is, it’s just seemed to open the toilet’s ability to have other problems that need to be addressed. There’s a strong chance you’ll be here until you die. And even after that, this stupid toilet will still be gurgling, outliving you.
But you seriously have to eat something, so you scrub yourself clean, set your safety equipment down, and head out of the bathroom for a much-needed stretch of the legs— And to hopefully get a plate from Tina.
On your way to the kitchen, you’re stopped and walked backwards to a booth in the corner by Richie. “Hey, Miss, happy to serve you today, my name’s Richard but you can call me Richie, how’re you doin’ this fine morning?”
They’ve yet to open front of house, so you play along, taking your seat with a laugh. “I’m doing perfect, Richie, how are you?”
He nudges the air . “Ey, better now that you’re here, ah? Can I get a drink started for you?”
“Really gonna practice your set on me?”
He shrugs, still smiling. “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”
You hum, then rub your temples, the headache is setting in— Not cause of him, just been a tough morning. “Just your coldest fuckin’ glass of water, Rich.”
“Right away, Cousin.” He slips off into the kitchen.
When the door swings open again, it’s not Richie coming with your ice water, but Carmen— It’s your first time seeing him since the walk-in. When you came in this morning with Syd, it was Nat that gave you the quick briefing on the schedule and goals for today.
“Tony.” He hums, corners of his mouth just slightly upturned. The nickname has stuck. Goddamn. He sets the water down in front of you, along with a plate— Covered by a cloche—Or the silver lid thing, whatever.
“Carmy.” You only mean to mimic his tone, but then cringe. “Is Carmy fine?”
He pauses mid slide into the booth, sitting across from you. He seemed all cool and collected and is now suddenly extremely caught off guard. Already sweaty. “Y-yeah, I’m better, thank you—”
“No, I meant—” It is so difficult to hold back laughter. You deserve an Oscar.
You’re not doing great to be fair but like, still, Oscar worthy attempt.
“I meant like, like is the nickname okay?”
The horrors just keep piling on his face, and you can’t help but feel guilty. No shit he feels like he’s starting on a lower playing field here. You knew his dead brother, you know his Head Chef, your first time meeting him was at quite possibly his lowest moment and biggest mistake— Of which you had to coax him out of, and now he’s misunderstanding every innocent question you have for a inquiry into his psyche.
He clears his throat for objectively too long of a time. “Carmy is fine. Tony is fine?”
“I’m doing okay, yeah.”
Thank God, he laughs, awkward sure but objectively amused.
You nod down to the covered plate, smiling, “Fuck is this?”
He leans forward in his seat to get a hand over the lid. “I, uh. Made you a thing. As thanks or like, an— an apology.”
Ah. That’s why Tina was laughing about you getting taken care of.
He lifts the lid, and what is revealed, if you weren’t careful, would be enough to make you cry. Thankfully, the shock registers as uproarious laughter, one that Carmen cannot help but join.
“What the fuck?”
Pork brisket sandwich. Something that Mikey made for you, specifically. Because you said one time you were more of a pork fan than beef and he absolutely lost it. In a cute way, though. Said ‘Oh, I’ll make you fuckin’ pork, alright?’ You’re not sure if he won or lost the argument, because you did find it better.
“I, uh, we had some cuts left over that we weren’t gonna be able to fuckin’ use, and uh, Tina showed me this, this recipe card, last night.” He slides over the very same brisket recipe Mikey had written down. Little doodles of angry faces and Xs over pigs in the margins.
“He was so fuckin’ mad.” You snort, looking at it. “All I fuckin’ said was I had a preference!”
“In The Beef!”
“He asked!” You quickly defend, through laughter. “And it tastes fucking good. All he did was prove my fuckin’ point— And spent hours doing it. Were you here overnight for this, slowcooking?”
He shakes his head, though there’s a hesitation in it— So you’re not privy to completely believe him. He sniffs, swiping at his nose “I, uh, just came in early. Had to fix some shit anyways.”
He’s staring at the sandwich, then occasionally you, expectantly. You look at him with equal expectance.
“Well?” You start.
“Well?” He astutely adds.
You nod down at the dish. “Do the thing.”
“The thing?”
You pick up one half of the sandwich, but you’ve got no plans of eating until he satisfies this craving first.
“The thing Syd does where she explains why she’s proud of her dish and why I should care. I know it’s Mikey’s, but you clearly made changes.”
“Oh. Uh…” He was both expecting and not expecting this soap box. “So, followed the rub to a T— Well, with a salt bed, this time. Put it on brioche instead of the old shit. And I uh, added uhm—” He snaps his fingers, staring at the sandwich in your hand. “Added pickled red onion, for acid and sweet, and garlic confit. I’m—I’m happy with my spin on it.”
You whistle as a form of praise, he flushes with a glow of pride and is desperately trying to not show it. He’s proud because it’s curated, personal. Ah, he is Mikey good. You nod and take a bite, trying to control your reaction. Worst part about having Artists as friends (especially chefs): They fucking stare so hard when you’re taking in their work. And they’re over analyzing every micro expression. He’s no different.
Fuck. It’s fucking good. Is it bad that it’s better than anything Mikey ever made? Nah, that’s how he’d want it.
“Ah fuck, that sucks—” Is the first thing you say, and his face falls, “Expensive food is worth it.” Right back up. Easy to please. “It’s really good, Chef. Thank you. Did you try it yet?”
He shakes his head, so you push the plate with the other half of the sandwich— It’s brisket, anyways. You’ll be full by the end of this one. Portions generous. He looks momentarily hesitant, which is cute, but inevitably leans forward and takes the sandwich. He nods with each chew.
He hums when he finishes chewing, pointing emphatically at you, though his voice is neutral. “You don’t like something, though.”
“What?”
“What’s wrong with it?” He stares at into the cross section of his bite. “Chewy? Texture?”
“There’s nothing wrong with it.” You’re quick to deny.
He shakes his head, hand over his mouth to hide the sauce on his mouth. “M’not gonna be hurt.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the dish, Carmen.” You take another bite to prove your point. Also you’re hungry. Two things can be true.
He zones in on the emphasis immediately. “It’s the plate, isn’t it? I told Syd—”
“Your tables aren’t bolted.” You interrupt, swiftly. Mouth semi-full.
“Huh?”
You put your sandwich down and swallow, taking your time with it. “Your booth tables.”
You knock on the pristine wood with the joints of your left hand. You swivel your body to look under the table, he follows suit, meeting you there. His left leg has been violently shaking, but he’s thought you wouldn’t notice it until now.
You put a hand on his knee to stop the shaking. He bristles, slightly, but you’re not even doing it on purpose. Your focus isn’t on him. It was making the table imperceptibly shift— Which, of course, you clocked. You tap your foot to the bottom of the table leg. No screws. “They aren’t bolted down.”
You lift yourself back up, moving your hand back to yourself in tandem. He stares at it for a little longer. How you noticed that, he will never know. Repairmen are a different breed…
“I just thought it was a weird choice. Nothing wrong with it, per say. Maybe you wanna test different layouts.” You shrug, taking another bite.
“The booths aren’t bolted either.” He adds, lifting his head up above the table, finally. “I don’t— we’re not gonna fuck with the layout, I don’t think.”
“Should get Fak on that, then.”
“Fak’s big-timing us.” You cock your brow, mid chew. He explains. “He’s focusing on hosting, f'now.”
You nod, swallowing, hand in front of your mouth so you can lick the sauce off your upper lip in non-humiliated peace. “This another job for me, then?”
“If you’ll take it.”
“If your fuckin’ toilet doesn’t kill me, I will.”
“How’s that going?”
You shake your hand so-so. “Ask me in two to three hours how it’s going.”
“Heard.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth. The stress is too apparent not to ask.
“How’s the second day open going?”
“I’m not in a fuckin’ freezer, so that’s a win.” Oh-ho, he’s acknowledging it. You were very comfortable forgetting that moment for his sake. “Thanks, uh, f’ that.”
You shake your head, shrugging off the thanks. You lift your last few bites of the sandwich to him. “You’re good. You’ve gifted me brisket. You relax since?”
“Not really.” He replies bluntly, taking a deep inhale. He pulls at his face from the top down, with both hands. Oof. Bad sign. “I think I’ll be good by tomorrow. Gonna get off early, tonight.”
“You don’t seem happy about that.”
“Ask me in two t’ three days if I’m happy about it.”
Back to work and this is taking so much fucking longer than it needs to take. Why is there tape there? Fucking Richie. Fucking Fak. Fucking Mikey. Godssake. Pipes are fixed. Water pressure is fixed. What the fuck is still wrong with it? What the fuck is wrong with you? Everyone is going to hate you if you can’t fix this. You’ve been here for like 5 hours and you can’t figure out what’s fucking wrong here? You’re nothing. You’re—
The toilet does you the favour of knocking you out of your episode by spraying you in the fucking face, soaking through the top of your jumpsuit. With a groan, you unzip the upper half and tie the wet sleeves around your waist. “Son-of-a-bitch.”
Maybe you just need a change in task for a second. Also, a new t-shirt, because your tank did not survive the waterworks either. This room isn’t the thing you need right now. You slip down the hall to the kitchen. “Who needs a coffee? Or water?”
There’s a chorus of orders, all of which sound like you’ve just asked ‘who wants a gift from God?’, which, you might as well have. This is what you like about being a handyman. The relief you bring. You just need a smidge of praise to get through the rest of this job. You’ve got this.
The small, but serviceable coffee machine in very back of the kitchen calls your name, but Richie sticks his arm out, blocking you from walking past expo up front.
“Hol’ up, Cousin, you look like a fuckin’ wet dog.”
“Well, what ‘ya gonna do about it?” You retort, despite the retort not honestly making any sense, you put your hands on your hips. “Do you want a fuckin’ coffee or not?”
He rolls his eyes, falling back onto the balls of his feet before walking off. “Ey, Sug, are those shirts still in the basement—”
You’ve won for now. You scrub your hands clean before getting to work. This is good. Oooh, Marcus has fresh coffee beans (that he’s willing to share!)— This is easy. You can already fix most broken things, but a machine that actually fucking works? Baby, you can make that sing.
Plus, the bartending gigs you’ve done don’t make you a barista by any means, but they certainly don’t hurt. Oooh, Marcus has syrups! Fuck it. Steamed and frothed milk. That toilet has you on your ass, you need to go above and beyond here. Make each cup personal. You need a win in the form of admiration.
You gather a tray of coffees (and a water for Sweeps, who is too fucking sweaty for a hot drink right now, so fair), all varying in milks, sugars, syrups, intensity. “Coffee run, I hand ‘em out, don’t just take! Corner!”
Ebra, to no one’s shock, likes his coffee black— But, and he’ll tell no one this, you just know it on instinct— He likes it a little too watery. “Good.” Who are you to judge? He likes what he likes.
Tina would take hers black for simplicity, if you let her, but of course you don’t. 2 sugars, foamed milk, chocolate and cinnamon syrup. “Too good to me.” It’s too worth it, when she says it like that and slaps your cheek. Balm of the soul.
Marcus, who watched you make these, did opt to let his imagination run too wild and added one of every syrup to his own cup, wanting to experiment with you. It doesn’t taste good. You switch it for a spiced coffee when he’s not looking. He’s silently very thankful.
After handing out a few more to the new cooks, you come up to Syd. “Take this one, take this one.” Then whisper, so no one knows you are displaying supreme favouritism. “It’s the one oat milk latte I made.”
She turns to you from her station, then darts looks over her shoulder like she’s making an under the table deal before grabbing it from you. She takes a delighted sip, eyes rolling just slightly in the relief of caffeine, she nods. “Fire, Chef.” Ah. This will get you through the day alone.
It also gets you through the willpower it takes to ignore Fak running by you to steal a coffee off your tray. Out of the corner of your eye, you point to the one meant for him— As if you didn’t make it for him, c’mon…
“How’s bathroom?” Syd asks, taking another long sip.
I’m going to fucking explode, not unlike your drainage pipe. “Needed a thinking break, but I’ve made a lot of progress. How’s kitchen?”
“Made a lot of progress. Auto-piloting through this prep.” She looks down at her cutting board, cracking back to it. “Latte helps, a lot, thank you. You should join for family, if you’re still here for it. Unless you don’t want more brisket.”
Fuck. She doesn’t think you’re so slow that you’re gonna be here until family, does she? “Yeah, maybe.” You look around, three coffees still on the tray. “...Where’s Carmen?”
She grimaces. Uh oh. The tension she glossed over at breakfast is still definitely there. She nods her head to the back door. “Smoke break. Or temper tantrum. I don’t fuckin’ know. Don’t tell him I said that.” You laugh, nodding. “You think a coffee would help—” “Please.”
“Corner!” Yells Richie, returning to you. He silently flicks out a shirt for you, holding it up proudly, ‘THE BERF’ stares back at you. You give it a solid five seconds to process before you say anything.
“Collector’s item...” You nod, tone sarcastically impressed. You pivot your shoulder for him to throw it over, hands too busy.
“That’s what I fuckin’ said!” He throws it over your shoulder. “No one fuckin’ listens, these days.”
You bite back laughter and nod, handing him his coffee. Hot. Dark. Two sugars. And, to his delighted surprise, a touch of cinnamon syrup. “Oh, fuck, missed your twists, Chip.”
You wince at what was a long-forgotten nickname, and so does Richie. Funny how remembering origins can do that to you. He’d just said it so instinctively, really. “My bad—”
“Chip is good.” You interrupt, rolling your shoulders back. And it is good, really. “It’s kinda—It’s kinda comforting.” It’s nice to not forget. He nods, and you give each other the ‘we are still so fucked, eh?’ smile before lovingly bumping shoulders as he returns to expo and you head to the back alley.
Carmen’s squatting, cigarette in one hand, creating a halo of smoke around him, and his phone in the other. He snaps out of his mental fog when the door opens, slipping his phone into the pocket of his apron like he’s got a secret to hide.
You hesitate at the doorway, maybe this is not the moment. “Sorry, Chef, I just wanted to offer a coffee? If you need air alone—”
“No, no, I’m good—” He’s quick to correct, then even quicker to correct himself. “I— I’ll take a coffee, I mean. You can stay, s’fine.”
He reaches for it when you sit next to him, but you pull the tray back to hand him the correct one. “Sorry, I—I like, did a thing, for yours. I dunno how you take your coffee, so I thought I’d do it weird.”
He takes the cup, eying it curiously. “Do it weird?”
“Do it like, like a Chef. Can’t make anything fuckin’ simple. The lot of you.”
He hums, amused, staring at the cup, then looks at you expectantly. “Well?”
“Well?”
“Do the thing.”
You snort, shaking your head. “Oh, fuck off.”
“C’mon, tell me why I should care.” He teases.
“Ah, fuck.” You sniff, oh to have your own words turned on you. Looking at the coffee in his hands, “I figured you’d like strong black coffee, but like, complex. So, it’s got like, cardamom and lavender n’ maple syrup. Shout out Marcus.” He smiles. “And then, I know I did just say black coffee but I wanted the aesthetic so I spooned foamed milk on top and sprinkled on some dried lavender.” You take your own cup in hand, putting the tray down. “If you hate it, we’ll trade.”
He pays close attention to your explanation. Man, his eye contact is simultaneously so soft and so scary. He takes a sip. Let’s it sit in his mouth for a second. “Excellent, Chef.”
Oh, if Syd’s ‘Fire’ could get you through the day, Carmen’s ‘Excellent’ will get you through the week to spare. You hide the way you beam by drinking your own coffee.
“How’re you doing?” It’s far too obvious that he’s had something heavy on his head all day, but you’re not going to say the quiet part loud, yet.
He takes a long time to respond. “I, uh…” And when he does, it’s weak. “I’m alright, yeah. I’m alright.”
You nod repeatedly, digesting the huge lie. “Ask me how I’m doing.”
He squints. “…How’re you—”
“Fuckin’ terrible, Carm.” You cut him off, putting your cup down next to him, standing up. You speak emphatically, gesturing with your whole body.
“I’m at my wits, Chef. Completely out of my depth. I fix the main pipe, I fix the water pressure, I triple check the tank, I fuckin’ power cycle the valve— I’m absolutely at a loss as to why it’s still gurgling— Why it shot water straight at my tits— Close your eyes, if you care, by the way.”
With barely any warning you peel off your tank top, you’ve got a bra, it’s fine. It’s very cute that he still looks away. You slip the new shirt over your head as you speak, muffling the words.
“—I’m wearing a shirt that says Berf, and the only way I can feel any semblance of not being utterly useless is by making coffees so good everyone has to praise me for them. And now I’m telling the fucking owner, my boss for the day all this.”
He nods, slowly. There is perhaps, not a single person in his life that has ever been this forthright. Someone he hasn’t had to over-analyze or dig into to figure out what’s actually going on. It is refreshing, terrifying, and for some reason, removing your walls have completely shattered his.
“So.” You lower your head to his level where he sits. “How are you doing, Chef?”
He takes a long sip of his coffee. Stews on the question before he spills his guts, calmly. “I’m sitting outside of the restaurant I started that I own, and my brother should be here, but he’s not and— And I was locked in a fuckin’ freezer on my opening night, which was my own fuckin’ fault— And the tape is wrong and the painting is stupid and that new hire did meth so now we’re down one.” He takes a deep breath.
“And we have Heinz instead of Frenchies, and it’s fine. That’s the fucked part— It’s fine. The ship did not sink without me— It went fine. Better, maybe. My problems aren’t fuckin’ problems. I’m just making it worse for myself— everyone. And I know Syd is mad at me, and I know my— My girlfriend? Is mad at me, and I know that I’m gonna break up with her tonight because I’m not meant to be— that.” He says the last part fast, more to himself than you, really. And then he finally looks back up at you.
“And I’m telling all of this to the person who saved me from hypothermia and a fuckin’—Fuckin’ meltdown, who probably thinks— knows that I’m a psycho.”
You take a beat before nodding, sitting next to him again, arms crossed. Silent. Contemplative. “I have thoughts.”
He nods, taking a drag. “Don’t pull punches.”
“Well, to start most honestly, we must remember, I love Syd. So, I’m not gonna mince about her.”
“Heard.”
You recall everything Sydney had told you at breakfast. The recap of how she got to this point. “Syd isn’t mad at you, she’s disappointed and distrustful.”
He grimaces. “That sounds worse.”
“It is.”
“Oh.”
“But in a way you can fix.”
“How?”
“Handle shit different. Actually show up to shit and make calls. Manage your priorities by urgency— Not by favourites. If I broke my fuckin’ arm and your ‘girlfriend’ had a runny nose, who are you taking to the hospital?”
“You can’t take yourself?”
“Bitch?”
“Kidding. Heard. What else?”
“You’re not gonna tell her I said this because she would rather die than tell someone she wants something.” You lean closer to him, peeking over your shoulder to make sure no one’s secretly come from the kitchen. You knock into his knees.
He takes another drag, short, choked. “Sure.”
“You were kind of a bitch about the menu.”
“The chaos menu? She said—”
“She fucking lied. She lied when she said it was fine, Carm, it does not take a psychic to read Syd’s mind.” You interrupt, taking a sip of your coffee. “She was so excited to get to build a menu, especially with—” you, “—a partner, and then you completely ditched her. And then you just made your own! Total control freak shit! Cut her out of the fun part of being head chef completely! You get to invent masterpieces and she picks out the best cheap plate? Fuck is that?”
He nods contemplatively, poking his inner cheek. “Yeah, that, that makes sense. That’s shitty.” He turns his gaze from looking ahead to face you, hand over the bottom half of his face. “What else?”
“You’re reactive.”
“No shit.”
“How long do you think you were locked in the walk-in for?”
He swallows, thinking. “Like… an hour?”
“It had been 23 minutes.”
“Oh.”
“You catastrophize, it’s a fancy therapy word,” You cannot help but be impressed by this white man writing down the word in his phone for later. “It means, basically, when something bad happens you blow it completely out of proportion into something it isn’t. Your opening night was definitely a bummer from being in a freezer— But be honest with yourself, would you have let yourself have a good night if you weren’t in there?”
“…No.”
“No. Which is also bad. Which brings me to my key point.”
He tenses up, preparing for you to rip into him further.
“You’re doing a good job, Carmy.”
He immediately swivels back to you, almost dropping his phone. Knee knocking into yours. “Fuck off.”
“I will not.”
“You just said I was a catastrophe.”
“Fully not what I said.”
“I read between the lines.”
“Carmen.”
You take a breath, putting your arms on your knees, bent over. “The restaurant is beautiful, your cooks are talented and they’re prepared— So prepared that they can handle 23 minutes without you. That’s a good thing. You’re threaded into The Bear— The ship didn’t sink, not because you weren’t there, but because you had been. Everyone had the tools they needed to succeed, even with Heinz, a Mid painting, and torn tape. And listen—” You take one last sip of your coffee. “You need to check your ego if you think you’re the first man I’ve coaxed through a panic attack while doing a repair.”
He laughs, half-heartedly. He scratches his nose. “Heard. Yeah, thank you, Chef.”
“I don’t know shit about the meth thing though, I really couldn’t tell you.” You smile when this coaxes a better laugh out of him. You’re considering a career in stand up exclusively for him because it feels like such a reward to hear it.
“And the girl?” He asks. Amusement tinging but leaving his voice.
You click your teeth, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Based purely on your hesitation to say girlfriend, I’d say yeah, probably not ready for a relationship.” You reach your hand out to his shoulder when he flops his head down. “But, just asking, is this your first relationship?”
He thinks for too long before nodding slightly. “First one.”
“First restaurant too?”
He nods again.
“Yeah.” You pat his shoulder before letting it go, opting to hold your cooling cup. “I know you’re a Michelin star fuckin’ big deal but like, me personally, I can’t name a thing I got perfect the first time I did it.”
There’s something in his eyes, when you say that. Something wistful, nostalgic, hurt? No. Something different.
“It’s not that I didn’t do perfect—”
“You’ll do better next time.”
He wrings his hands together between his knees. “Yeah.”
“You’re gonna be fine, Carm.”
“You’re good at that.” He sniffs, head down, scratching his nose.
“At what? Self-help?”
He exhales what just barely sounds like a laugh. “Kinda. S’just, when you say it, you say it in a way where I actually believe it.”
You’re getting the fuck out of here before they open for dinner. You’re not letting anyone down tonight motherfucker. The Berf shall prevail. Maybe a win here will feel like a win for Carmen, too.
You run the sink to wash your hands, as you’ve done before here— But since fixing the pipes and the pressure… Something’s… different. You pause your scrubbing, listening closely.
…
When the sink is running, the gurgling flow of water from the toilet stops. Huh. You stop and start the faucet a few times to verify this. Yeah. You stare for a long moment before connecting the dots, then punch the sink in realization.
“Fucking Mikey!”
“What’d he do this time?”
You twist around. Ah, other sibling. Natalie. Clipboard in hand, business ready. You take a beat before remembering to smile, nodding to the sink behind you. “He connected the tank flow to the toilet and the sink with one wire.”
She tilts her head, squinting. “Why would he do that?”
“I suspect to save water?” You spin around, kneeling down to look behind the sink. “I think the idea was to have the sink not function when the toilet is flushing. But, it uh, well, did the reverse, kinda. Toilet doesn’t function when the sink isn’t running.”
“Oh.”
“So uh,” You shut the valve under the sink. “Your water bill should go down a little after this, since it won’t be running into what is an essentially a second trap pipe.”
“Oh!” Did she get what you said? No. But she doesn't need to. She heard ‘bill should go down’ and that’s really all she needed. “Thank you!”
“Not a problem. S’my job.” You stand, shutting off the valve to the toilet as well. As you kneel down to work again, you feel her gaze burning into your back. You don’t turn to face her. “You have questions.”
“Oh, ah… Am I so obvious—?”
“Yes.” You’re too quick to answer, unbolting the wires where it attaches to the toilet and the ground. You sniff with a panicked, “Ah, uh, it’s endearing.”
She’s quiet, for a moment. She doesn’t ask you what she actually wants to ask you, and you know that. “Well, I’ll need to exchange info for your invoice.”
“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout that, your brother already covered it.” You stand once more, before going to the sink to undo it’s valve, you fish through the deep pocket of your jumpsuit, pulling out a crumpled business card and handing it to her.
“But it’s good to have my info on hand, for sure. It’s ah… Kinda old.” Kinda is an understatement. Your dad’s name is still on it, scribbled out in pen and replaced with yours. The dead business line is also scribbled out in exchange for your personal cell.
“It’s uh… I usually only work for friends and family, these days, so I’ve kinda stopped trying to keep up appearances.”
She smiles at it. Thank God, she finds it charming and not sloppy. She tucks it into the clasp of her clipboard. “That’s fine, we are friends and family.”
All you can do is nod, pivoting to the sink. There's a beat of peace.
“Didn’t see you at the funeral.”
Ah. There it is. For a Bear, she sure knows how to poke one. You stutter in unscrewing the bolt.
“Would’ve been nice to meet you, then.”
You clear your throat, it's strangled. “Yeah, I think I was trying to avoid introductions, honestly. Grief comes in different ways, eh?”
“Does it?”
“Mine does.” You swallow, unbolting the wire. With it free, you can just yank it out of the wall. God, forgive your brain, but Mikey was right, she does like to fight. Too bad you don’t.
She just hums in reply, watching you pull the wire from the wall. “You’re a real lifesaver.”
Fuck. Fuck. Lifesaver? Is she fucking with you?
“That toilet sprayed me right in the face, yesterday. And you saved Carmen.” There’s an amused lilt to her voice. She’s not fucking with you. “There’s something about a handywoman that Fak cannot match.”
You can hear a faint ‘Hey!’ through the walls. You laugh through an exhale.
“Again, s’my job. I do my best. Did uh, what was it, Terry come by for the walk-in? I wasn’t looking when I was there.”
You sort through your tools, deciding caulking the holes closed is probably the best option.
“He came over basically overnight to fix it, bless him, still don’t know his name.”
You laugh, it’s a little strangled. So Carmen did stay overnight. He must’ve. You smooth out the caulk with your thumb and a palette knife. Blending it into the grout as best as you can. “Good. Good.”
You dust yourself off. Standing. “Well. That’s uh. That’s my job done. Carmen asked me about—”
“Bolting down the booths?” She nods, checking the time on her watch. There’s not enough time before lunch to do it now. Plus you don’t have the screws. “You’re free to come by in the morning tomorrow—”
“But?” You interrupt, throwing your tool bag over your shoulder.
“But?”
“You said free like you’ve got a preference, what do you prefer?”
She chuckles, slightly. There is something about you that feels familiar. “If you could come after close tonight around 12, that would be nice—”
“It’s done. I’ll be there.”
“Lifesaver. I'll give you the code.”
Fuck.
Always gotta give the reader/mc some sort of mysterious background that even you don't have all the info on. Always.
Hehehehe, again, we're slowing this burn so much. Strangers to Friends to lovers but they're both so comfortable in friends it's hard to move !!
Forewarning, btw, if you've already sunk 10k worth of words into your brain for me (thank you!! I hope you've enjoyed!!), I've never written smut before and I feel like I probably will not build up the courage to do so by the end of this series, but I could prove myself wrong, I dunno. But warning in case that's your thing!! I might blue ball you babe!!
Pretty please tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my Berf shirt. Collector's value!! Thrown away!!
Next Part
#carmen berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto#carmy x reader#carmen x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto#the bear fx#carmy the bear#the bear x you#the bear#the bear x reader#the bear fanfiction
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So I'm in love with the BFFs sister Troup. Especially in a omegavere scenario.
I imagine my beta best friends alpha sister get handsy when BFF's not looking. Like placing her hand on my thigh under the dinner table or hugging me for way too long after sleepovers. It's not that she's a bad person just a little inappropriate when it comes to me. Which is weird because she not like that to any other Omega.
Despite this I'm not afraid of her, so when my friend texts me a invite to a sleepover I agree with out thinking. I'm surprised when her sister opens the door.
"Hiiii, Omega. Whatcha doing? "
I try to push her out of my to look for my friend. I go up to my friends room but she's not there. I check my phone for any cancelations but their are none. When I walk out of my friends room I question her sister and where she is.
"Oh yeah I think she's in my room looking for a jacket I "apparently" stole from her. "
I go to look for my friend in the room she pointed me to but no ones in there and the place is a mess. I then hear a click of the doors lock and turn around to see my friends sister practically panting. Then it hits me the smell of an alpha in rut. How did I not notice? Then as I look around the room I see packages of scent blockers. My brain tells me to run and she seems to notice.
"H-HHey don't panic I... I just want to talk okay. "
I look at her and nod. She slowly stocks towards me. " Good, Good Omega. Do you realize what's going on? " I say yes. She continues to move closer. "G-good so you know this isn't me. (Pants) Fuck, I made a really stupid, rut filled decision. " she continues closer and closer with her hand over her nose. "Fuck your just sso pretty. Have you ever been fucked by an Alpha?"
I wince at this question knowing where it's leading. She seems to notice. "I'm sorry that's, such a stupid fucking question. I just... you smell so good ... even from here. Just so good." I back away from her causing her to lung forward but I dodge out of the way. And now our positions change. Only one problem the door is key locked. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that it's just hard doing these things alone. And toys they don't help. "
I continue to look at her trying to anticipate her next move. Looking around the room for a weapon but all that's on the ground is scent blocker wrappers and broken cum filled toys " My sister hasn't fucked you yet right? " to this I stumble back in utter confusion and surprise."Oh, she hasn't told you yet? Fuck, yeah you have two sisters fantasizing over you little Omega." I think about escaping through the window but it's to high up.
"But I was first, I had feelings for you long before she did! I remember when she introduced you to me and I felt so bad attracted to my little sisters friend. Dreaming ever other night of sinking my teeth into you. Imagining it was you instead of some flimsy toy every rut. And then I saw my sisters old phone in her room after searching for clothes that smell like you in her room. I just... "
She begins to shake and pant more and more. And I can see the bulge of in her shorts from here. I'm so fucked, I think as she continues to take small steps towards me.
"I know that look Omega, please don't try to fight me. I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want to hurt the girl that's going to be carrying my pups. " after this statement she pounces on me again this time I don't dodge it. She knocks me down full force and holds my hands down with one hand. The sight of this only increases her panting. "Fuck I can't believe this is actually happening it's not a fantasy. Your below me, smelling delicious and no ones home. "
As she speaks I feel her grind into my thigh. I try to think of how I'm going to get out of this. Fighting her isn't an option, she's strong enough to have both my arms pinned with one arm. And she's to far in to be reasoned with. I scrap my mind for something anything that will save me and then I feel it her hand ripping my skirt and panties in two.
"You smell so good. " she says as she bites her lip and pants. "Fuuck, what will you smell like when your filled with my pups?"
I keep trying to tell myself to think but it's so hard when you have a hard pulsing clothed cock rubbing against your folds.
"I shouldn't be doing this god it's so wrong. " she say as she grinds harder tears falling from her eyes.
I try to take this moment to my advantage. I tell her that I'll forgive her if she just stops. I wipe away one of her tears with my thumb. Before telling her that I wouldn't tell anyone not even her sister. I feel as she slightly let's up off of me before pulling me towards her bed as I scream.
"Why do you always have to talk about her! Why can't you just look at me? " she yells as she throws me on to her bed standing over me but not touching yet. I look around for something anything to defend but on the bed I see photos of me. So many ones of me in my bathing suit, ones of me get out of the shower, ones of me sleeping and the creepiest of all ones from outside my bed room window.
She breaks my concentrate as she begins to speak "I love you, not her. She doesn't crave you like I do. She doesn't think of you everytime she closes her eyes. She wouldn't fuck you like I would. She doesn't ... I'm sorry omega but I won't let her have you. Your mine. "
She then gets on top of me and tries to kiss me. I try to move away but she grabs my chin and forces her tongue down my throat with a growl. I start to feel as she rips my shirt and bra off and grabs my chest.
"Your so fucking soft and you taste as good as you smell! Gods I need you now! "
I begin to feel myself slip into fear as she holds me like a toy. It isn't until she plants a kiss on my cheek that I look up.
"Please don't look at me like that, stop please. I promise I'll make you feel so good, just stop smelling like that. I... why can't you just love me?" She begins to wrap a hand around my throat her claws daring me to move. "Say it please, just say it tell me you love me. "
I try to compose myself as the fear of being broken spreads through out my whole body. "I... Love you. " she moans and let's go of my throat.
"Good, good girl, so fucking good. Now tell me you don't want her, say you only want me. "
I nod and begin to mouth the words back to her. She growls before letting go of my waist in exchange for my legs. Holding me up to her and looking down.
"I want to taste. I need to know. I want your scent dripping down my chin. So be a good, pup and don't fuck this up. I don't know what I would do in this state and I really don't want to hurt you. " she says before shoving her tongue into me.
She eats me out like its her last goddamn meal. Fucking me on her tongue in and out while pulling me close as I cry. It feels good. It shouldn't feel good. She's taking me, I'm not enjoying it not even as she begins to lap and suck at my clit. A sensation that's just to much. I try to pull away from it but I feel as her teeth ghost on my clit.
"Don't fucking, move away you can fucking into to it, but the next time you run from the pleasure I'm giving you I'll bite this off. After all you don't need a clit to have my kids. " she threatens before sinking her face back down as I squeak.
She takes to nursing my clit more and kissing my thighs. I feel my self shake and whine. As I start to get closer and closer to the edge, I look down and she's starring at me. She then let's up of my cunt with a pop.
"I'm sorry baby, I don't want to threaten you I just... I need you to be good. Obedient, for this to work safely. I'm really trying to be gentle. It's just I want you positively dripping of my cock and I can't control it. But I prepped you so your ready now. "
I feel my eye's go wide as she pulls down pulls down her shorts and it falls out. I know I can't take that it's going to break me, even the knot is bigger than my hand. I have to run, I don't even care if the windows to high at least it freedom or a painless way to go. As I begin to bolt up she slaps me hard against the face.
"No No No, your are not going to ruin this for me! Your going to take me whether you want it or not. " she pants as she lines up "Your going to take me until your properly breed! "
I feel as she pushes in and I begin to cry. "So just enjoy it, enjoy your purpose! "
I try to stay positive as this happens. Think thoughts like at least she prepared me, maybe her seed won't stick and my friend will be home any momment. But I can only think that way for so long as she holds my legs up and starts pounding into me like a animal. Panting "tight" "warm" "love" "breed" over and over again as she uses me like a toy. One that she going to leave broken and cum filled like all the others.
Then I think about how she going to break me by the end of the day and how she'll leave my cunt a gaping mess in the shape of her knot. God no the knot, she hasn't even pushed the knot in and it feels like agony. Despite me thinking that there's the smallest voice in my head telling me it feels good and to rock back into it.
I ignore it, especially as she goes hard and harder fucking me slower but so much deeper. I hear as she moans and grunts and takes what she wants. Fucking me with reckless abandon as she chases her high dragging me along with her. And then I feel it. The burn of being stretchered more and more as she desperately shoves her knot all the way inside before final shoving it all in and bitting. It all happens so quick first I'm in pain from her tearing me open and then from her sharp teeth being buried into my kneck.
She let's out a sharp growl as she keeps moving her hips before spilling into me sending me falling down the ladder of pleasure and pain along side her. My vision goes white and I hear panting it takes me a minute to realize it's my own. I try to wiggle around but all I feel it taunt of her knot a her cum sloshing around painting my womb even further.
She growls "Don't move. Let my knot go down and then we're going again and again until it's not possible for you not to be pregnant. "
I begin to cry and then I realize it's not just going to end after today, it takes the average Alpha a week to go through their rut cycle. I begin to sob as I think 7 more days of this. Then I realize not 7 every day she mated me which means every day she's going to... She mated me and breed me. Which means I'm hers I begin to shake and have a coughing fit.
She then rubs a hand through my hair "Ssh it's ok our children are going to look so beautiful. Our little litter. " she says kissing our mating mark as I continue to sob.
#wlw nsft#wlw ns/fw#sapphic ns/fw#lesbian ns/fw#lesbian smut#sapphic nsft#lesbian nsft#wlw noncon#alpha female#wlw blog#queer cnc#lesbian cnc#sapphic cnc#cnc k!nk wlw#f/f cnc#wlw a/b/o#a/b/o universe#lesbians omegaverse#wlw omegaverse#wlw breeding#wlw werewolves#r@pe kink wlw#wlw post#wlw concepts#bottomposting
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Just Like The Beatles
Being in a band with three men while being a lonely girl would sound difficult, but you all managed to make it work. You four tried to use bonding exercises to avoid issues, which included livestreams with fans or smoked weed in private. When you joking said, you should do that infamous Beatle game in Hamburg. You didn't expect them to accept.
content: smut
notes: afab fem!reader; 'bonding' with the boys; um, i can't explain; luis x leon x chris x you; man on man action; modern au; ooc characters; SMUTTY. like there is no plot at all. minors, i know i can't control you, but... this is a sexual situation. if i say, don't read this, you are stubborn and will still try. I'm trying to finish all my long stuff to not overwhelm myself.
taglist: @argreion
The digital clock counted another minute. All the hotel room heard was the breathing of each member of the group. Luis's brown eyes looked at each of his members. This wasn't gay, right? He took a deep breath, "Do you have your dildo?" He wanted to make sure this was perfect for their dumb new activity of the day.
You groaned softly, "I, I got it." You showed your pink toy to your friends. Leon's cheeks turned a bit red but he stayed focused on the mission. Chris nodded his head as well. "Okay, so, how did the Beatles do it again?" He asked softly.
"Well, it was a masturbating game," Leon mumbled softly, "They jacked their dicks together as they yelled out names. Lennon mentioned Churchill but they still... had to cum."
Yeah, this was basically insane.
You nodded your head and took off your bathrobe, showing at least a bit of your breasts and raised your bottom side of it. "I'm ready, I guess." Luis swallowed when he saw your boobs, "I still don't know how this is bonding exercise." He felt himself just getting hard by seeing his lead singer's breasts.
Chris sighed, "Well, if it weren't for her research the Beatles," He rubbed his thighs and pulled out his limp dick, "And you two bozos accepting it. We could've just done a stupid Tiktok trend."
Leon rolled his eyes, "It sounded like a good idea. You saw what music the Beatles did."
"Yeah, until they broke up." Chris muttered.
Leon pulled out his own half harden dick, "No wonder we don't have girlfriends." Leon looked at everyone half naked side. Your pussy and your dildo slowly rubbing it gently to make it wet. Leon groaned, "Fuck, this is definitely a bad idea."
Luis groaned, "Don't judge, I didn't shave." He showed his and he had a bunch of pubes were just there.
"This is so gay." Leon mumbled.
"Forget it." You said, "Now, we have to figure out how to get properly aroused to play the game."
The four idiots looked at each other. Luis saw Chris's dick and Leon's... and soon your cunt. He gently rubbed his to raise it up. "I'm... I'm really trying, eh." He grunt softly.
You closed your eyes for a second and rubbed your dildo on your tits. You clicked on the end of it, and it began to buzz. You focused the buzzing on your nipples and moved it up and down. Leon, Chris, and Luis were just enjoying the how you looked. Leon's legs opened, and he whined softly as his hips buckled.
Chris's eyes followed how the dildo just played around your body.
"I'm wet." You said.
I'm hard." Luis muttered, trying to keep it nice and steady.
Leon nodded his head as he removed his bathrobe. The trio without shame looked at Leon. Leon was a soft version of hot compared to Chris and Luis. Leon had body hair, but he trimmed most of the guys.
Chris was struggling a bit. He sighed, "I can't." The trio looked up at their leader. "Why not?" You asked. Keeping yourself wet sucked as your fingers began to rub your clit to assure it. Chris groaned, "I just don't jack off a lot. I don't even like watch porn."
Leon, Luis, and you had a guilty look.
"It-it's fine. Let's play, and maybe Chris will get hard from... something." Leon knew either way, Chris will feel it. The dildo entered your hole and pumped the toy in and out. "First name..." You whispered softly.
"Albert Wesker." Leon started easy. Everyone from the band knew Wesker was hot whenever they liked it or not. You pinched your nipples as you focused on the idea of Wesker pumping his dick in you. Leon's hand rubbed his tip and moaned softly until his wrist moved up and down his shaft.
Luis rubbed his happy trail and slowly began and avoided his tip. His pre cum began to bubble from his tip. Even if Chris wasn't masturbating, he had Wesker in mind. Chris began to rubbed gently his thighs to raise himself to play the game. Next name.
"Jill Valentine?" Luis said in a questioning tone. Jill was more taboo than Wesker. They respected her.
You pumped the dildo slower for Jill. "Mm, Jill would be so nice..." The men agreed. Leon's butt clenched a bit; he groaned weakly, trying to catch his breath.
Next name. It was your turn but you were too focused on riding your toy. "Hey, your turn." Chris tried to be the bigger adult, but seeing your body squirm around your body. Your cunt clenching on the pink toy...
"Um," You were forced to think. You saw how your band members were just pumping their dicks, it made your stomach feel weak. Your eyes trailed down how Leon masturbated compared to Chris and Luis.
Chris did it as he made a mission. He wasn't completely relaxing as his hand pumped it over and over. His eyes were hazy. Luis was more loving in a way, his legs were wide and kept nothing hidden. His cock was red and needy, but he kept it more under control.
Leon was groaning and making more noise as he pumped his cock. "C'mon, hurry up..." He moaned.
"Leon..." You moaned back.
Your cheeks burned, but you looked at them. All of them needing them a bit more than expected. In a way, everyone knew the game was over as they stood up and crowded Anya. It wasn't the usually friendly stuff they did. It was focused around lust. Luis kept his cock close your face as he pumped it faster. Luis put gently his tip around your lips and traced them together. He hissed weakly before placing his hot cock inside your mouth.
Leon removed your toy from your cunt and got down his knees and saw his lead singer's wetness pour down. "Chris..." Leon's index finger traced down her pussy lips, Chris went down on his knees as well.
Your eyes wanted to look down, but Luis basically was thrusting his cock in your mouth. Chris and Leon opened your legs and went in. Chris kissed your thighs and Leon lick gave small little licks directly from the hole. Making sure to not make the hotel chair dirty. Well, that was his mind set around it. Leon's free hand was still pumping his cock. All Chris can do is see how they went at it.
Leon's tongue moved around your folds and your pretty hole. Collecting all it can. He grabbed your hips tightly, his hot breath against your cunt as his nose rubbed you. Your hand grabbed Leon's hair and tugged on it hard.
Leon whined softly. Luis didn't even focus at the men at your feet. He caressed your cheeks as you took him in.
Your drool traveled down your tits as you moaned like a pathetic toy. Luis slapped your tits and held them, "Fuck, fuck, si..." He grunted weakly.
Leon looked up at you and noticed all the wetness collecting on your pretty cunt. Chris groaned, "This sucks..." His eyes widen when he saw how Luis had you, "We need a better position." He whispered softly. Luis grinned, "Ye-yeah, I need to keep this mouth on my dick..." Leon pressed his nose on your clit before licking it again.
Luis pulled out. You coughed loudly, finally catching your breath. Chris needed to think fast.
Chris stood up and gently kissed your lips. "Can you handle it?" He whispered softly. Your eyes soften, "I can try." You didn't want neither of them left out. He smiled. Despite being the biggest of the three, he was gentle and knew his strength. Leon was accidentally too rough, he didn't mean to, but his strength came into place.
You were carefully placed on the bed into doggy. It felt embarrassing until you felt Chris slowly press his cock around your folds. In front of you, Luis and Leon's cocks were on your face. Luis caressed the top of your head, "Good thing we don't have a concert tomorrow, huh?" Leon smiled too, "We'll be gentle." You knew could trust your drummer and your base player.
Chris grabbed your hips and slowly began to thrust. He groaned weakly. He gently squeezed your butt. Luis and Leon gently shoved their cock into your mouth. They were expecting a blowjob. Just your mouth on them. You groaned softly when you felt Chris's fingertips hold your hip tightly. Luis groaned softly, "Leon, I think we have to handle it ourselves."
Leon whined softly. Luis kissed your lips, "When Chris is done, it'll be our turn." Luis sighed softly, "It's going to end up gay."
"Actually, like Marlon Brando," Leon said, "He slept with men and women to ease himself." Luis sighed softly, "I can't believe we are the same age."
Leon rolled his eyes until he felt Luis's lips on his. Chris thrusted deeper into you, pinning you as he pushed you arched back down. Chris groaned softly as his large arms held your waist. Chris kissed your cheek, his dick was slamming in and out of you. Luis and Leon were just happily making out on the bed in front of you. You gasped weakly once Chris rubbed your clit as he kept and kept going. Your squirmed a bit, kicking your feet a bit, "Chris!" You yelped loudly. Chris rubbed your clit faster, "Sa-save that voice."
You whined loudly, you couldn't take it anymore.
It was too simulating. Seeing Leon's and Luis's cock drag against each other. Bumping into each other. Chris's own cock pumping you, your kicked around, "Chris..." Chris grabbed you and sat you up. His hands grabbed your hips as he moved you up and down.
Leon and Luis were in their own heaven as they gently kissed. Luis' hand caressed Leon's hips and pulled him closer, Luis grabbed Leon's blond hair and pulled him close. Leon moaned softly, his eyes fluttered a bit trying to see Luis, but his mind was stuck on the kiss. Leon pumped their dicks together with the pace Chris had in you. Luis cursed weakly, his hips moved up a bit trying to feel more of Leon.
Your toes curled up, your back arched that specific way and it was takeaway on Chris's actions. Chris rubbed gently your stomach, "C'mon... Luis and Leon need you like I do..." Your eyes weakly looked at how their tips' pre-cum were sticking together. "Mm, need..." You whispered softly. You wanted to choke on them, but you weren't thinking clear and Chris knew so. "Later." His fingers rubbed your clit again, little by little it went faster and faster. Until you released. Your cunt clenched around Chris's cock and attempted to squeeze all of him, but Chris thought it double and wore a rubber. Even Luis and Leon made a mess on Luis's stomach, they all gasped for air for a bit.
You laid on the bed, and Chris held you from the back. Luis and Leon soon followed. Holding each other tightly to give comfort. Luis groaned softly, "So, now what? Is this part of our bonding now?" Guess the Beatles were kind of right.
#resident evil#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#chris redfield x reader#chris redfield#luis serra x reader#luis serra
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Fake It Till You Make It
Chapter Eight - What About The Party Princess?
The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up?
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The final chapter has arrived!! I can't believe we turned this from a long oneshot into a whole ass series
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There was a knock at her door.
The Princess of Monaco stood from her sofa (which, like the rest of her apartment, had been tidy two days ago. But she'd fallen apart all over again after that) and strode towards it. She didn't check through the peep hole as she pulled open the door.
Immediately she shut it in his face.
He knocked again. "Come on, Princess! Open up!"
But she returned to her sofa and turned up the volume on her television. Tucking her legs beneath her, she ignored it as he continued to knock.
But Charles wouldn't stop. "What the fuck have I done?" He shouted as his fist kept pounding away.
Her building had security. She could have called the security guard to have him taken from the building, but she didn't. He could knock all he wanted, but she wasn't going to answer
It hadn't even been a fight, had it? You can't have a lovers quarrel when you're not lovers.
Had they really been dating, they probably would have made up. She would have let Charles into her apartment had he would have given her flowers. Still, she would have pouted at him as he took her into his arms, apologising as he kissed all over her face.
But they weren't really dating.
As far as Charles was aware, she had disappeared, hidden herself away from him. There were no new news articles on her or what she was doing. She'd dropped off the face of the earth.
The news, of course, was based on the king. Staff gave updates when they could, but there wasn't a lot that they could say. He was dying, that much was clear, and nothing could fix it.
The Princess of Monaco hadn't visited her father yet. She was aware of his health condition, but she couldn't bring herself to see him in that condition. No matter what Henri tried to get her to come to the palace, she wouldn't, couldn't.
She'd stopped answering her phone. Between Henri and Charles, it was constantly going off. So, she switched it off, placed it in the drawers beside her bed, and forgot about it.
And then the black car came to pick it up. She knew the black car with the royal crest on it, had been picked up several times in it from strangers houses. When it came, she had no choice but to climb into the back, sitting silently as they drover her to the place she had grown up.
Henri greeted her at the door. "Took you long enough," he said with something like a kind smile.
One she didn't return. The fact that she was there, that somebody had come to get her from her apartment, it had to mean something. Had to mean he was at the end of his life.
"How is he?" She asked, but she knew the answer already.
Henri had his hand on her shoulder as he guided her towards their fathers room. "Before we go in there, I need you to ready yourself," he said. "It's not a pretty sight, but he wanted to see you before he died."
She swallowed and nodded her head. She was ready.
He was small and frail, a shell of the man he once was. Seeing him hooked up to so many machines, she wasn't sure if she could do this. Before he could open his eyes, she turned on her heel to walk out of the room.
"There you are," her father said through a cough.
Sucking in a breath she turned back towards him and took a seat in the chair next to his bed. "Hey, dad," she said.
He reached for her hand and she took his. "Your brother tells me you're getting married," he said and turned away to cough into his other hand. "I'm glad. You've always worried me and I'm glad you're finally settling down with that driver."
Her face fell. Charles. He was talking about Charles. Suddenly she felt sick to her stomach. But she sucked in a breath. If this was what her father needed to her before he died, she would tell him.
"Yeah, dad," she said, voice squeaking a little. "Yeah, I'm marrying him."
A sad smile passed over her fathers face. "Your brother is going to make a wonderful king," he said, eyes shutting. "I never wanted that burden for you, but Henri can handle it. He was born for this."
She squeezed his hand, but he didn't squeeze back. "What was I born for, papa?"
His hand was shaking as he raised it to her cheek. "To be my perfect little girl."
She couldn't stop herself from crying as she stood from the chair and ran out of the room. As soon as she was out in the hall, Henri had a hold of her, pulling her into his chest. "Why did you tell him about Charles?" She sobbed against his shoulder.
Henri shushed her, his fingers moving through her hair. "He needed to hear it," he said softly as he pulled her towards his office.
"No," she said as she got to the doors. "No, Henri, I don't want one of your fucking meetings," she cried and went to storm away.
Henri let her go.
She hadn't expected to go to her own room. But there she sat, on her bed, stuffed toys on the end of it facing her.
Why did her dad have to mention Charles? She had loved him. Even if she was bad at showing it, she had fallen for him. And now he wasn't even in her life. She hadn't thought about marrying him. No, it had been too early for that. They weren't even together, so how was she supposed to marry him?
Maybe that was why she searching up his name.
The Monaco Press was the first thing to show up on her phone. She should have known better than to click on anything written by The Monaco Press but the headline caught her attention.
What About The Party Princess?
Formula One driver Charles Leclerc hasn't exactly been shy about showing off his relationship with the party princess. Expensive dinners where they book out entire restaurants, taking her across the world and back with him, having her attend races.
It seemed as though the world was happy for them. Princess Y/N was finally thriving.
At least, according to what the couple let us see.
It had been a while since anybody saw Monaco's couple out and about together. This didn't seem like too big of a deal. They were busy people with their own lives still. We at The Monaco Press didn't think much of it.
Which is why we were all shock and a little heartbroken to see Charles Leclerc out to dinner with...
There was a knock at the door, pulling her attention away from her old laptop. Henri leaned against the door frame, eyes red with unshed tears. "Uh, the doctor said it should only be a matter of days," he said and wiped at his eyes. "I think you should stay here until he... goes."
"Hen-"
"Please," he begging, joining her on the bed. "For me."
Those few days at the palace were the worst of her life. Just waiting for death to come for her father. And it did. Three days after she'd told him she was marrying Charles Leclerc, he passed away.
His family had been gathered by his bedside. His wife was crying, his son crying with her. But not his daughter. She stared down at him as he took his final breath, hands shoved into her pockets.
A bitter and twisted feeling filled her. She'd lied to him. The last thing she'd said to her father was a lie, and she'd never get a chance to fix it. He'd been so proud when he thought she was going to marry Charles, but it hadn't been real. Pride born of a lie isn't really pride at all.
She went back to her apartment that night and cried. How could she be in the palace when her fathers body was there, when the staff was rushing around to make a statement and funeral arrangements?
She cried so hard that she threw up.
And, when she was finished, she pulled her phone out of the drawer and looked at her messages.
Only the ones from Charles, she couldn't looking at what Henri had sent to her before their father died.
Charles had sent her so many messages, given her so many chances. And she'd ignored all of them. But that final message. Oh, she was going to be sick all over again.
I can't do this when I love you, princess
All of this over something so fucking stupid. If she'd just let him in that night, she'd have him here now, comforting her as she cried. She'd be able to kiss him when she wanted, wouldn't have to read articles about him on dates with other girls.
Desperately she typed, sending several messages all at once, begging him for something. Forgiveness. Another chance. Something.
All of them were left undelivered.
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Hellooo, like I said I would, I am here to send a request your way! I hope it's not too boring, but could I ask you to write for "My breath just made you quiver. Can you imagine what my tongue will do?" with Gale saying it to Tav/reader? (Yes I absolutely had his "practiced tongue" in mind when I wrote this-)
I'd like it with a female Tav, but you are free to change that up if you prefer. I am simply here for the wizard and your writing😂
Teehee, I've been waiting for this one! So sorry this took so long, my internet was out for a few hours and then it took me a while to gather the motivation to open my blog. This one is pretty short and kinda gets straight into the action, but it's the best I can do rn. I hope it's okay! Tysm for the request, and I hope you like it.
Summary: Tav finds out how practiced Gale's tongue really is.
Warnings: smut! oral (f!receiving), whiny Tav, kind of dom!Gale but not really, Gale is cocky, Tav gives brat vibes, she/her pronouns and name Tav used but I left it neutral so you can imagine her as anyone or as yourself, smut starts below the cut!
Rating: E
She hadn't planned for her day to end up this way, but she wasn't complaining.
Tav had started the day ready to face the adventures in store, prepared for anything. It had been tiring as usual, ruthless battles that seemed to pop up at every turn as their group traveled. They survived, miraculously, and made camp just as the sun set.
She had gone to see Gale to chat, just as she always did in the evenings. Tav made a routine of checking in on all of her companions at the end of each day, and she told herself that she didn't favor anyone. Which was of course, a blatant lie, as she always looked forward to her check-ins with the wizard the most.
She had saved him for last, wanting to end her day with a pleasant conversation with a handsome man. She wasn't sure exactly what she had said to steer the conversation into what was now their current situation, but decided to just accept her fortune.
Besides, it was far too difficult to coherently form thoughts when her favorite wizard was knelt between her legs, mouth hovering inches away from her throbbing cunt.
His warm breath brushed her clit, sending a jolt of arousal up her spine that spread through her whole body. Then, his hoarse voice murmured in a low tone, teasing her. "My breath just made you quiver. Can you imagine what my tongue will do?"
She stifled a whine at his words, glaring down at the man. "You talk too much."
Before he had time to retort, she dug her fingers into his long hair, pressing him forward. He, for once, took the hint, and finally flicked his tongue out against her dripping folds.
"Fuck!" Her fingers tightened in his hair as his tongue flattened against her, writhing teasingly around her entrance. He hummed in amusement, which only served to frustrate her more as the vibration intensified the pleasure.
With a quick flick of his tongue against her clit, he finally dove into her, togue exploring her soft insides greedily. Just as fast as it had started, it was over, and he suddenly pulled back. Tav whipped her head up to glare at him, where her eyes settled on his teasing smirk. "Be a good girl and ask nicely."
"Fuck that!"
His hands squeezed her thighs as he moved back, preparing to get up. "Well then, I guess you don't want this bad enough."
She gaped at him, scoffing as he moved away. Just as he was about to leave, she groaned, giving into his ploy. "Wait!"
He froze, raising an eyebrow at her. "Yes?"
She sighed, saying quietly: "Please."
He knelt down again, large hands returning to her spread thighs. "What was that?"
"You know what I said!"
He pulled away again slightly, and Tav frantically called to him. "Please! Please, Gale."
His smile was insufferable, eyes glinting with satisfaction and desire. "Good girl. Say it one more time?"
She opened her mouth to protest, but hesitated as she looked at him poised between her legs, his eyes flickering to her cunt, gaze filled with hunger. Her stomach tightened with even more arousal at his expression, seeing him so eager to please her. "Please. Please, I wanna feel your tongue- fuck!"
His tongue had returned to her immediately, caressing her fold with a newfound vigor. Her words failed her, his practiced movements rendering her to soft sighs and whines as he tasted her.
She gasped when his lips wrapped around her clit at the same time as a finger plunged into her, sending a wave of intense pleasure over her. He didn't hesitate, relentlessly assaulting her clit as he plunged his finger into her at a ruthless pace. Her brain had no time to catch up, blinded by the sheer pleasure of his movements.
Another fingers joined his first one, pace never faltering. His other hand held onto her thigh tightly, preventing her legs from clenching around him. Her muscles tensed as he continued his heavenly movements, stomach forming knots as his fingertips brushed against a spongy spot deep inside her.
She looked down at him when she felt a loss of sensation, his lips pulling away from her swollen clit. Her eyes met his darkened ones, and she couldn't help but moan as his fingers started making a come hither motion inside her, coaxing her impossibly close to her breaking point.
She felt his lips press soft kisses against the inside of her thigh as he sped up, his eyes transfixed on her fucked out expression. Tav struggled to keep her head upright, staring into his eyes as his fingertips pushed her over the edge, triggering her orgasm.
A string of curses fell from her lips, body trembling as he slowly coaxed her through it, but she managed to hold his gaze.
"Look at you, so pretty coming apart on my fingers. Such a good girl for me."
His low words of praise brought her back to earth, blurred vision focusing in on his darkened eyes. She barely even noticed as he carefully removed his fingers, whispering praise to her as he loved up to press his lips to hers.
Her mind was empty, only capable of think of him, of his fingers inside her, his lips melding perfectly with his, how his body felt pressed up against hers. She sighed into the kiss, reaching up to cradle his jaw. His kiss was slow and loving, yet held such desire.
She whined when he pulled back, pouting up at him. He chuckled, his hand squeezing her hip playfully. "Don't worry, love. There's plenty more where that came from."
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 gale#fem!reader#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#afab reader#azi's creations#gale x reader#baldurs gate 3#baldur's gate iii#x reader smut#one shot#smut#bg3 x reader#bg3 smut#gale x tav#gale smut#female reader#x reader#x tav#tav#bg3 tav
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VBS
Chapter 2: Damage gets done ~ hozier (MY LOVE)
DAILY CLICK🍉 DONATE ON
LINKS🇵🇸 GOFUND.ME!!
a/n: again, sorry this took so long, life’s been stressful but I hope y’all like it <33 its long af tho
this is honestly just me messing around with happiness and then destroying it soon 😍
c/w: smut in future chaps!!, religious trauma, internalised homophobia, religious manipulation/abuse, implied abuse by parent
summary: you grew up religious without questions and in summer you would get send to vacation bible school. The camp always felt like prison to you, until a very interesting girl appeared.
7/22/2007 (sunday, week 1)
Readers pov:
10:02 a.m
The faces of the others were frozen as you trudged back to the hostel, which you couldn't blame them for. You don't see two girls with wet clothes here every morning, and the fact that you had to walk past the dining room to get to the stairs didn't exactly help you stay inconspicuous.
You and Ellie lost track of time a bit and were already too late when you noticed that breakfast had already started. The dining room doesn't really have a single door, the room was just completely open with no wall or door that could have protected you from being seen.
Giggles and agitated whispers immediately started as Ellie walked past the large room and down the corridor. Pastor Tobias' eyes pierced into back of your head as you walked past the hall.
Ellie found it all very entertaining and waved to a group of people who greeted her back with a laugh.
You, however, couldn't meet anyone's gaze, not your friends and certainly not Pastor Tobi's.
With your head bowed and your wet hair hitting your red cheek, you quickly fidget past all the spectators.
After 2 days, the events came dry from the lips of the people and you and Ellie could walk through the halls with a little less shame.
Or at least you did.
Ellie didn't think the whole thing was so bad. She said she didn't care and that it was worth it. That you hadn't done anything wrong, and she was right, you hadn't done anything bad.
But guilt was beggingly nibbling at your skin, hoping to be let into your brain where you would make up some fucked up mistake.
The singing of the choir and hazel next to you make it a little harder to think about all this, but not impossible. With your luck, you might dream about it. The whole scene in front of you, is so familiar that it feels like you are timely. The many children of different ages who sing their souls out to be enough.
Some of them are also really good, and some are good and love to sing. But they will probably not get any further than your little congregation, because it was explained to you from an early age that those talents you own are there to serve God and only him.
Acting out of free will would make you feel too guilty.
Your gaze rushes behind a shoulder to Ellie, and even she sings with it. Ellie seems to have made friends with a group of boys and girls a few days ago. She fits in pretty well, everyone looks like they don't feel like being here.
The short-haired girl catches your eyes and winks at you slightly, which makes you grin. She's so inserious, it's to laugh sometimes. With the same grin, she makes a small movement with her fingers and hands that looks as if she is composing something on an invisible piano. You understand that she just wants to tease you and show her a guitar-playing gesture.
"Don't do that!"
The hissing in your ear scares you, and you shake together briefly. After you have stretched your body forward again, and your shoulders feel like wooden boards, you give Hazel an apologetic look.
She unobtrusively holds a finger to her lips instead of telling you to shut up.
But her look is not as angry as she sounded, she admonishes you to stay out of trouble and you have to admit, that has often saved your ass.
When you were smaller, you wanted to try out almost everything, whether it was because of your quick trust in other people or because you just hated yourself too much to have any self respect left, no matter what it was, it almost messe up your life. Or rather your social life in church. And Hazel was like a warning hand that pulled you back again and again, saving yiuin the last moment.
When the piano music ends quietly and slowly, everyone sits down again, and a squeak sounds through the room. The piano that is played on every morning is old, but still sounds quite good. You could play all the hillsong songs and the old ones of your grandparents with your eyes closed if you had to, but Tanja does a good alternative job for you.
Your mother liked it so much, when the piano was played in the service that she thought it would be all the more beautiful if her daughter sat up there.
"Good morning everyone"
The older pastor leans against his narrow pedestal with the large cross on front and looks slowly through the rows.
"Personally, I find that 2 days are enough to get used to a life in nature and among themselves with God" he sighs tired for a short time as if he is already disappointed about something.
"Tomorrow you will go to the city with your assigned room partners and grou leaders and spread God's word”
Groaning resounds around in the room, most of pre teens who would rather do anything else than talk to strangers in the summer heat. Your group also has less desire, but this happens here every year like a kind of tradition, so you've been preparing for it.
"Not only that! The kitchen also prepares candied apples, which you can then all hand out nicely together!"
That was new. However, you understand the purpose behind it, you would also like it more to sit and listen here with a candied apple. In recent years, so many people have slammed the door in front of your nose that a few apples can't be bad.
"Hey girls" Louisa's voice makes you all look over your shoulder.
She kneels in front of you to be able to whisper better and more inconspicuously.
"You have kitchen duty this afternoon, please don't forget it and don't plan anything"
you all nod in Union.
"fuck"
"Kate!" Admonished hazel.
"What? It always takes like what? 2 hours?-"
"2 hours and 46 minutes" you improve her.
The four girls look at you confused.
"I stopped time last year out of boredom"
hazel grins at you, you twist your eyes but there is also a soft smile on your lips. You know exactly what's going through her head.
'That's so weird but just too sweet'
"I can't even remember the last time" murmurs naveah dreamy, her gaze rigidly on the ceiling.
"Probably because it was so traumatic that your brain simply deleted it for you" Kate dramatically her index finger against her head.
"It wasn't so bad, Kate exaggerates."
"I don't"
"my legs hurt all day"
Kate's and Mia's voices roll over and you smile. Hazel looks at you questioningly. You gambled with your shoulders.
"2 hours and 46 minutes Hazel..."
the girl shakes her head and her brown curls fall around her face a few times. "I thought it was okay"
Kate snorts. "Haze you would walk around in underwear in the snow if it happened in the name of the church."
"You wouldn’t?
11:38 a.m (sunday, week 1)
Three. You got 3 soccer balls shot in your face within 1 hour. You're not surprised that one of them was from Caleb, but the other two were shot by the same pretty black-haired girl, and it didn't look like she was sorry.
"What the…"
You stare at her and Caleb's backs during the water break and hope that it was just a coincidence, even if deep down you know that it wasn´t.
"Does he still not like you?" Naveah, sweating, picks up her water bottle while her eyes wander from time to time between you and Caleb.
You shrug, now more focused on Caleb fooling around with some guys.
The air in the gym was incredibly thick and almost unbearable, but the leaders still talked you into a soccer match. It was more or less Hazel's decision anyway and you guys do everything she does. The high windows let in the warm sun, whose heat wasn't particularly welcome right now.
The teams are mixed, meaning there are boys and girls on the same teams, aged 16 to 18. There weren't many, but enough to at least form 2 fair groups with even a few substitutions on the bench.
Ellie is nowhere to be seen , which doesn't surprise you, you regret ever saying yes to this, but you miss her in the disgusting, sweaty, narrow air. Her presence and her funny jokes would have been the only thing that could have made this a little less shitty.
"What's the deal with him anyway?" Naveah doesn't seem to let this go.
"We just don't like each other, that's just how it is sometimes."
She frowns.
"I don't think you can hate each other so much without a reason."
"I don't hate Caleb, I don't really care about him"
Naveah lets out a snort.
"Damn didn't know you could be a little bitchy too"
Caleb turns briefly in your direction and you take that as a sign to turn away and finally sit down for the next 8 minutes. Naveah does the same.
“I think everyone can be a little bitchy, you can’t like everyone and everything”
“Jesus could”
“Well im not Jesus”
she stretches her legs out next to you and sighs deeply.
"I know, even if this doesn't sound good, I sometimes find the principle of the church really fucked up. I try to love everyone, even people who do bad things to me, but it doesn't always work."
You're very surprised that she comes to you with this, but now that she did, you want to give her the best comfort you can.
"That's okay, naveah. We're neither God nor Jesus, we can do some things and we can't do some other. And we find a lot of things difficult. So Hate who you want"
naveah laughs and then becomes creepily serious again.
"Thanks, since you became friends with Ellie, you seem more relaxed to me."
Thinking, you try to remember your life before Ellie, but you can't. Before that everything was much more colorless, it didn't make as much sense as it does now.
"yes, I guess"
"no matter what Hazel says, you're right, Ellie isn't bad. How can a bad person make someone else this happy?"
12:24 p.m (sunday, week 1)
You haven't heard from Ellie all morning. It was almost as if she had completely disappeared, and if you're honest, you've had the feeling for a while that one day, she would just run away from here.
You wouldn´t hold it against her, but you would still feel dejected and left behind.
naveah and you talk a lot more after the game, she's more like you than you thought and you think she's good company. She understands your humor and you don't feel stupid or judged after every sentence you say.
It often happens to you that you wish for a world and reality in which it was always so easy to live. Where not every breath you take feels wasted.
You try very hard not to think about Caleb or your siblings back home. Homesickness seemed to catch up with you sooner or later anyway, but you didn't expect it to happen so quickly.
The summer heat was bearable, but it was still uncomfortable, so you spent most of your time indoors. Shortly after 12, Naveah suggested playing a few rounds of Uno with you, and since there was nothing better to do, you agreed.
"My father taught me uno, I can still remember that"
there is a very faint smile in her voice that touches your ears. She sounded a bit sad, as if she´s mourning that time of her life.
"I don't know your father at all"
you put a wish card on top of the pile of other cards. One round probably turned into a few.
"He's not really a christian, sometimes I think that's why he is the way he is"
"What do you mean?"
"He has a lot of emotions, he doesn't know what to do with them."
Christian parents are often very strict, as there are many rules in both parenting and the Bible that you have to follow. But since Naveah is talking about her atheist father, you don't really have a picture of what she really means, both your parents are religious.
"I don't understand exactly what you mean naveah…"
half of your brain is focused on the girl in front of you and the other half on the cards on the floor. Naveah moved around a little to sit down a little more comfortably, but this position didn´t seemed to free her from the emotional discomfort.
"Sometimes he doesn't know where to put all the anger. My mother doesn't help much with that either. Both of them know how to provoke each other, but only one of them knows how to deal with feelings."
"I still don't know what you mean? How does that affect you and your fathers relationship?"
It seems absurd to you how you talk about something like that while you're playing Uno, but if that's what she needs.
"Girls, lunch is ready and then you have to rinse off."
Louisa's voice flashes through the room and everyone moves quickly, but you make a mental note to talk to her about it later. You walk at a slow pace down the hallway and the other girls just rush past you. You remember how easy everything seemed to you at that age.
On the second floor you meet Jonathan.
“Hey you got wash up duity, don’t you?”
A dramatic groan leaves your mouth and you nod.
Joanthan is nice. You know his parents very well and you both grew up together as often as you saw each other at school and he was one of the only boys who wasn't interested in bullying girl for fun.
"Are you in the same room with Samuel?"
“Samuel and Austin, luckily”
You nod in understanding and see your group of girls whizzing past you out of the corner of your eye. Hazel turns to you briefly and gives you that grin and suddenly you know exactly what's going on here. An unpleasant feeling spreads through you and you try hard to ignore it.
"yeah… it's nice that you're still friends"
"I can't believe how long I've been able to put up with these two"
You giggle a little bit uncomfortable and think about the many pranks the three boys have pulled off. Both here in the camp and at school.
“Have you planned any new pranks?”
"hmm I don't know if I can tell you that" Jonathan grins at you.
"Well, if I hear something about a prank, I know who it was."
He shrugs and chuckles softly.
"Do you know what you're planning to do after the summer holidays? Now that we've finished school." you ask him.
He doesn't seem so sure about his answer.
"Not really, I don't know yet whether I want to stay here or go further away. Samuel wants to study in new york, I feel a bit left behind"
left behind. You know the fear of that as well.
"No matter what you decide, you have a future everywhere, time goes by either way"
he smiles at you and combs a few thick curls out of his face. You notice that he's looking at you longer than necessary.
"Hey would you like-" "Jesus where are they?"
You try strenuously to find Hazel's brown curls over the many people's heads, but they are nowhere to be seen.
"Sorry Jonathan, I have to find the others before they can no longer manage to save a seat for me."
you lie coldly to his face.
Without any further words, you quickly march through the many groups. You can feel his confused look burning at your spine, but whatever he wanted wasn't what you wanted.
You notice two things in the dining room.
Luckily Hazel secured a spot for you and Ellie is talking to the girl who shot a fucking ball at you. Twice.
Ellie's face seemed neutral, she was smiling slightly.
Jealousy overcomes you and you´re embarrassed at how quickly and unexpectedly it happens. Your cheeks redden and you feel very immature, like in middle school when you were mad that Hazel had other friends besides you.
You sit down in silence next to Hazel, who has already placed a plate at your place. Some pureed vegetable soup that you have to force down.
"What did Jonathan want?" Kate leans forward eagerly.
Unexpectedly, Jonathan is a good distraction for once.
"You're being so childish"
"Come on, we're just curious"
That's how it was always with the boys. No matter what people say, Christian girls are obsessed with boys, no matter how much the feeling of guilt trys to destroy that. For many, boys even come before God in terms of interest.
Not necessarily boys, but more the romance itself. The acceptance and recognition of being enough for a man.
Your eyes flick to Ellie, who is still talking to her about something seemingly funny. Of course you don't care.
“He didn’t want anything from me and even if he did it i would not care.”
1:14 p.m (sunday, week 1)
You are just waiting to be let into the kitchen. It's nothing unusual to take on kitchen duty in camp. It's a kind of thank you from the church to the kitchen for cooking warm food every day. Every girl's room gets a turn twice a year. After the girls' rooms have all been through to the second time, there are two more boys' rooms so that it doesn't get unfair. Ironic isn´ it?
Every year it's the same, every year you can hear the boys crying and complaining when they're the ones who have to do it this year. Now was your day where you have to wash 200 dishes. The staff and managers involved.
Ellie isn't here yet. She can't really have forgotten it, Louisa reminded her not to do anything between 1 and 3 p.m. this morning.
"Okay girls, then let's get to work."
Lousia opens the door to the kitchen a little too enthusiastically with her key and everyone follows her limply. It's the same place with the same number of dirty dishes.
Washing the dishes yourself isn't that bad for you, it's the fact that this kitchen is so damn dark.
For some reason there are only 3 windows in the white, old room. The tiles on the floor are already old and a few edges have broken off, the potholes were noticeable on the sole of your slippers. It still smells like soup and detergent and you wonder who would want to spend hours doing something like that.
“Here” Hazel hands you gloves and an apron.
"Sorry I'm late" Ellie stands in the doorway, panting, looking for Lousia's gaze, but it still stays on you.
"Hey" she smiles at you… shyly?
You smile back and pull the apron over your head.
"Ellie… please don't let this happen again."
“I promise it won´t”
Hazel also hands her the things and Ellie doesn’t hesitate for a second. You're a little surprised that she showed up at all, but she seems a bit inergic to you.
"Okay, we'll divide into 3 groups and one will rinse while the other dries and puts thw dishes away," you almost order the others.
You grew up with a very tidy mother and a big sister, you know a lot about tidying up and organization. That's why no one hesitates and does what you said.
"I wanted to talk to you all day"
Ellie's rough voice loops into your right ear and you quickly grab the dishes and a sponge as a distraction and start to rinse.
"I'll rinse you dry"
Ellie seems surprised to have to pick up a plate but does as you say.
"Everything okay?"
What bothers you is how easy it is for her to read you.
“Yes, everything is perfect”
“It doesn’t seem like it?”
"That's your self Ellie?"
"Did anything happen?"
"No"
"Did I do something?"
"Ellie!"
You say her name a little loudly and Mia, who is standing across from you, turns to you briefly and smiles encouragingly at you.
No, that is completely wrong. You shouldn't be mad at Ellie, you should stand by her, she could be in distress or something.
You direct your gaze again, an embarrassing blush on your face.
As strange as it sounds, Ellie really looks beautiful in an apron. Her soft curves, her forearms that show off her fair, freckled skin and the black ink of her tattoo. She always has to pull up her sleeves no matter what she does.
"I just had a bad day okay?"
You take the next plate.
"Her name is Ruth"
Ruth. you imagine how the name would feel on your tongue, how it would taste. How it would taste on Ellie's tongue. Shaking, you banish the thought because the thought of a sentence where both Ellie’s tongue and taste appear, seems too dangerous to you.
"I didn't ask that"
"You didn't have to"
Nobody speaks for 10 minutes, there is complete silence. Your thoughts rush from one corner of your brain to the other. You didn't want to argue with her, you didn't want to be anything other than hers.
soon you realize that you have no right to be angry with Ellie. She can talk to whoever she wants. Strangely enough, it also seemed to make a certain amount of sense for Ellie that you were angry.
You Wonder why.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs next to you, a wet glass in her hand.
"You don't have to be, you didn't do anything, Ellie."
Your anger subsided, and your longing for Ellie's soft, warm voice grew.
"I haven't paid any attention to you all day."
"You don't have to-"
"But I want to. As often as I can."
Sometimes you think that she doesn't even notice what she's actually saying to you. That she's in a trance and doesn't even notice what's falling over her lips. How vulgar her allusions are, and how good they feel.
You turn around briefly, but no one seems to have heard.
"It's okay, don't worry about it now."
"I really am sorry though." Her hand rests gently on your back, but doesn't quite touch you. it is the gesture itself that counts here, but you can't help but think of her soft skin, of her many freckles that are certainly not only on her face.
"I know. Me too, I shouldn't have acted around like that"
her face shows how happy she was with the situation and you smiled too.
"I like your hair. It's really pretty braided" she whispers
her hands sadly turn back to the dishes and your gaze remains stuck to her for a while. But how could you not? who would ever want to look away from her?
"what did you want to tell me?" you ask her.
"how do you know that I want to tell you something?"
"you get really fidgety when you want to talk about something"
you notice so many things about her. how her leg fidgets slightly, how she keeps having to change her position and shifts her hips from left to right, how she bites her cheek, sometimes too hard.
"um... I had an idea"
"Ellie, no-"
"I haven't said anything yet"
the running water covers your voices, luckily, and no one notices.
"We're handing out these apples tomorrow and I thought to myself-"
you give her another glass and look into her soul.
"That's stupid and we're not 10 anymore, Ellie, what makes you think of something like that?"
Ellie takes the glass slowly and carefully, not breaking eye contact with you. Her eyes look hurt.
"Please explain it to me" you try to make your voice softer, more trustworthy.
"I don't want to be here. You don't understand, you're here every year and people love you. There's something wrong with me and I'm reminded of it every fucking day, I just want to show him what it's like to be treated like that"
you could hear the tears in her voice. You noticed early on with your brother that some people just don't cry, or at least don't like to. They express their tears differently, with Ellie it's her voice.
Her voice shows how she's feeling just as clearly as tears would have.
The kitchen is divided into two compartments. One is where they cook and the other is where they put the dirty dishes and clean them.
"How are we even supposed to get into the kitchen? And how do we know that they haven't already put the glaze on the apples? We don't know anything, Ellie-"
"Jesse's mother is volunteering to help in the kitchen. He said that he needs to help his mother to candy the apples this evening. But before that we can make a few changes."
Your mouth is slightly open. She has really thought this through. You hand Ellie another glass and stare at the door at the end of the room. No chance of her just getting in there. Louisa is a very nice manager but even that wouldn't gat an approve of her.
"How are we even supposed to get in there?"
CLINGGG
a high, loud noise bounces around in the air and you flinch so much that it hurts.
"fuck"
"oops" Ellie grins at you slightly after she has dropped the glass, you gave her to dry, on the floor.
"I'm so sorry, god I'm so clumsy"
Ellie gives you a whole scene, in which you don't have to do anything but hold back a laugh.
"Louisa, forgive me, it just fell out of my hand"
the other girls have to hold back a giggle too, even Hazel.
Ellie's high, dramatic voice sounded bad like a dying cat, but once again you were impressed by how daring she is.
"Yeah, yeah Ellie, clean that up. The broom is in the storage room"
Louisa presses the many keys into Ellie's hand and doesn't seem at all surprised.
"Thank you very much sister" for a moment you thought she was bowing.
„we’re not catholic Ellie-“
„But Mrs. I don't know where the storage rooms are"
„And I’m not married“ Louisa sighs
"Shit Ellie, I'm kinda enjoying this"
Kate grins at her and Ellie winks as Louisa gives Kate a warning look.
Ellie puts a strong, secure arm around you.
“Please accompany her”
Louisa waves her hands in the air between you two
“Sure” you reply like a robot
Ellie's arm pulls you towards the exit door and almost slams it behind you.
"first we ruin the glaze, then we can get the broom from wherever that was"
"in the storage room"
"whatever"
There are two doors to the kitchen. One that is in the washing up room and connects the two rooms and another that leads directly to the kitchen. The other entrance can be taken through the dining hall, and that's where you headed.
"if the pastor sees us, we're dead, Ellie"
you walk quickly but are still careful when you go around corners.
"I know, I think he wants to hang me on a scarecrow, I had a dream about that recently-"
you grab her arm and shove her back behind a safe corner.
"phillip"
"who the fuck is Phillip"
you press Ellie lightly against the wall because you are sure that sometimes she can't control her body properly. you peek around the corner slightly and see the orange hair.
"He's like the pastor's right-hand man, his best friend is also his roommate and his assistant."
"Pastors can have roommates?"
The orange spot at the end of the hallway slowly disappears like the light of a car on a dark night. This time you go first and Ellie follows you like a dog, she is also much quieter.
You feel 6 years younger and you like doing something you've never dared to do. Otherwise it was always the boys who played pranks and even though you never admitted it, you were always jealous.
Jealous of the freedom to behave like an asshole and not face any consequences. You wanted to have that laugh, that bond of having done something wrong together and to experience the big drama afterwards. To be praised for having done it.
"Shit, you like this, don't you?"
How can she read you so well?
"No!"
When you get to the door you stare at her knowingly.
"Yes you do, you're not as good as you always act doll. And I mean that in the best way possible"
"You're full of shit Ellie"
you let her pass you and the green eyed girl hastily tries to find the key.
"hey" you calmly touch her quick hands.
"calm down. don't stress Ellie"
her cheeks redden and her hands slow down.
"i really can't find it. fuck do you even have the key to the kitchen as a group leader?"
out of instinct you pull the door handle to use the key and the door opens.
"That was easier than i thought-"
Ellie puts the keys in her back pocket and carefully sticks her head into the kitchen. you keep watch so that no one walks by and tells on you. you quickly scurry after Ellie into the empty, warm room and smell the sweet air of the apples.
"the door has a fucking window" Ellie whispers in your ear and points at the door from where your friends are cleaning dirty dishes, the door that leads to Louisa who Is waiting for her keys.
goosebumps spread across your arms and legs and you are not sure if it is where Ellie is or the chance of being thrown out of the camp.
as you stand in front of the big pot you both breathe in out of reflex.
"It smells good, I even feel a little bad about ruining it"
Ellie watches the bubbling bubbles a little dreamily.
"Isn´t that actually vandalism?"
you ask thoughtfully.
Ellie almost laughs out loud and puts her hand over her mouth. You grab her arm and press even harder against her mouth so that she is really quiet.
"No, that isn't really vandalism oh my god you are innocent"
"Wow thanks Ellie, it was so enlightening"
you spend a while looking in the kitchen for something that might taste good and after a while Ellie finds vinegar that is probably decades old.
"that is so disgusting, remind me not to eat any of it"
Ellie's look confirms that somehow you'll have to eat it anyway.
"it will noticeable if we don't eat anything, just a small bite"
"Ellie what the fuck" you massage your temples with your thumb and watch her open the vinegar.
"not too much, okay?"
"yeah yeah"
In the end she used almost half the bottle to make it really gross. for an "extra reaction" she said. In the end you almost got caught by the pastor's right hand. In the end Ellie held your hand for exactly 4 seconds.
It was impressive how those 4 seconds stayed in your head for hours.
INTERACT WITH ONE OF THE LINKS UP THERE
Please post and repost a lot about Palestine especially right now. The videos shock me to my core and are really disturbing but people live these lives, these are children of someone. Please take your focus on the people in Palestine who are going thru hell. Help where you can
I really hope you liked this chapter, I will upload more after focusing more about palestine so it might take a while! Btw SO SORRY ITS THAT LONG
Taglist: @elliewilliamgfooc @bready101 @a-little-bit-of-everybody @vqxen @hersuniverse @nelzooo @shiimer @bellaramseysgirlfriend @sonthingwithl @vi0lentb3rry @elliewilliamsblunt @be3flow3r @adelaide013 @abbysbraids @mourningdovee
#ellie williams angst#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams tlou2#tlou2 fanfic#dina tlou#tlou part 2#the last of us part 2#the last of us fandom#the last of us fanfiction#ellie x fem reader#ellie x reader#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou#ellie x you#religious trauma#vbs#lucy dacus
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Okay so. I cannot take it seriously when people say that we weren't led to think CX-2 was Tech. Because no we were not just having foreshadowing of the creation of an Evil Bad Batch. The clues led directly to Tech.
We have to start with the fact that they didn't kill him off definitively. Start with his survival being debated (and there's no way they didn't know it would be debated because I choose to believe they are not stupid) then introduce a character that lasts suspiciously long and has weirdly intense beef with Crosshair and you already are inclining people towards believing this is Tech.
CX-2 goes through a speedrun of Tech scenarios with 1. the leg crushed by a heavy falling object, similar to Ruins of War 2. knocked over by an explosion leaving him dangling above the abyss from a line like Plan 99 3. going over a waterfall and crawling out in a shot that completely matches the scene from The Crossing.
One or two of these is a coincidence, all three together less so.
Plan 99 notes mixed into The Battle of the Snipers. Which the Kiners only explained as the notes 'sounding good in brass' and nothing else.
He gets distinctly Tech like dialogue and no I don't just mean 'domicile' though we do have to acknowledge that no one else in Star Wars uses this word on the regular. We also have the exact match of 'Who are you' to Decomissioned, and the matching of 'I have simply cut off her means of escape' to Tech regularly saying 'I am simply-' when explaining himself, which again is something no one else in the show shares. Tech has a distinct way of speaking that matches CX-2, especially as of Point of No Return. (And CX-2 doesn't really sound like Crosshair, because Crosshair is just straight up not as chatty as CX-2 and never has been.)
He gets a long, unnecessary scene with Phee where he suddenly forgets how to be a murder assassin and starts playing soft.
He doesn't shoot Hunter when he has a chance and chooses to instead shoot his own man, he doesn't blow up the Marauder while Wrecker is inside, and when Omega surrenders he opts to just wait for her to hand him her communicator. He doesn't even shoot Shep when Shep starts talking back to him, all of which indicated that maybe for whatever reason he didn't want to, bolstering the Tech theories.
Getting into an opinion rather than analysis here but: Evil Bad Batch is a stupid fucking idea, it serves no purpose whatsoever other than a cool boss fight that adds nothing to the story. Having a CX be someone, anyone they actually cared about would have been interesting and actually played into the themes of family and forgiveness that were set up earlier in the season. Instead it's just more people to kill off to zero interesting payoff. It's stupid.
Every person I spoke to offline thought that this was Tech. All of them. People that have never looked on social media, watched a theory video, anything. All thought CX-2 was Tech and were confused when he was speared. This was not terminally online theorizing gone wild, this was a very widespread thought and assumption.
So, if they didn't mean to do any of that and at no point intended to imply this was Tech and were solely trying to foreshadow their 5 minutes of Evil Batch fight? They did it poorly. When the majority of your audience actively believes you are leading to one direction only for it to be some other direction that you meant to lead them to, the problem is not The Audience Didn't Read It Right, the problem is you wrote it badly.
#the bad batch#fandom salt#you can't just shove everything onto the audience like the audience is just watching TV wrong#that's what they set up whether they intended to or not#but frankly given Everything I have a hard time believing they didn't intend to set this up
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five — right?
tag, ur it! — sakusa ? iwaizumi ? osamu ?
*ੈ✩‧ love is a losing game
your roommate, your ex, or the guy you totally haven’t been seeing—the choice should be simple, right? right?
previous — masterlist — next
word count. 1.1k
content. profanity, mentions of previous cheating
“Will you stop that?” Iwaizumi says, glancing up from the paper that he’s been working on for the better half of the afternoon.
You bat your eyelashes at him innocently. “Stop what?”
He glares. “That,” he tells you, pointing at the growing pile of paper balls you’ve been making, crumpling up pages of old notes and unceremoniously dropping them at your feet. “It’s distracting.”
“Tough luck, bud. It’s for school.”
“That excuse is getting old,” he says. He takes one last look at his laptop, sighs, and closes it. He looks at you expectantly. “So what’s up?”
“Why do you think something’s up?”
“Because you’re being outwardly annoying,” Iwaizumi tells you, “Which isn’t particularly strange, but you’ve got this nervous energy around you right now.”
You try to silence the voice in your head that wants to ask him, You notice those kinds of things? Because it’s stupid. Of course your roommate notices when you’re acting weird. He’s subjected to your strangeness every day.
“Have you ever had a really stupid idea?” you ask him instead.
He raises his brow and puts his laptop away, making his way to the couch and plopping into the seat beside you. “What kind of idea?”
“I won’t go into the specifics,” you say. “But it’s just really stupid. Imagine you had a really good thing going for you now and it’s great, you know? But there’s this other thing that is really bad for you that you can’t seem to let go. So you have this idea, drop the really good thing for the bad thing. Which is stupid. But you want to do it.”
“Oh, that’s totally not specific at all.”
You stick your tongue out at him. “I need help here,” you say. “What would you do?”
He considers it for a moment. “How badly do you want the bad thing?”
“Really badly.”
There isn’t a hint of hesitation in your voice and it makes you want to hurl. After everything that’s happened, you’re exactly where you were before. It feels pathetic. Disappointing if nothing else.
And yet you don’t expect the next thing to come out of your roommate’s mouth. Not from Iwaizumi, the wise and kind and gentle and slightly aggressive but overall smart, good guy.
“Then fuck it,” he says, as if he were giving you his blessing. “Go for it. At some point, you can’t keep denying your feelings. They’ll blow up in your face eventually.”
You gape at him. “I can’t believe you just told me to fuck it.”
He grins, all teeth and sunshine. “Fuck it.”
Of course when Iwaizumi told you to fuck it, he had no idea that it meant you were going to show up here. At a coffee shop. Waiting for Osamu, the guy all your friends have told you to clearly stay away from.
When you see him, you notice that he looks a little different. Not much has changed, you’ve only been a part for a few months, but time has its way of making the past seem more distant than it is.
“Hey,” he says as he approaches you. His breath catches when you stand and he sees you, clearly surprised by how much you’ve changed too. “You look… great.”
You offer him a curt nod. Despite just how much you want this, to see him again, there’s something that’s physically holding you back. Reminding you of what Osamu did, what he made you go through.
“Thanks,” you say. “You wanna sit?”
If he’s put off by your slight coldness, he doesn’t show it. He sits in the chair across from yours as you fall back into your seat.
“How have you been?” he asks.
It’s so polite. So unbothered. You hate it.
“Fine,” you tell him. “How’s Maya?”
You see him recoil at the name, his lips twisting into a frown as he curls into himself ever so slightly. It’s stupid just how much you still know him, how you know how to push his buttons in just the right way.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I haven’t seen her since…”
And there it is. The unspeakable. The thing you’ve poked and prodded at. Alluded to in conversations with your friends. Hidden deep in the back of your throat.
“Since you fucked her.”
He shakes his head and leans forward, spreading his hands on the table as he looks you straight in the eye. “I told you,” he says, “It was a mistake.”
“You still did it.”
The truth is sour on your tongue. You’ve had this conversation with him before, hurled your righteous accusations at him as he tried to explain that it wasn’t anything, that it didn’t matter. What a fucking idiot.
“What did you wanna talk about?” you ask. The scales have tilted in your favor. You have the upperhand here. “What do you want from me?”
Osamu’s eyes flicker from remorseful to regretful to penitent. “Give me a chance,” he says. “I fucked up, I know I did. But I can’t keep doing this. I look for you everywhere I go. I stay up at night wondering when you’ll call. But you’re so distant, you avoid me every chance you get.”
You scoff. “Do you blame me for that?”
“No.” He looks down. “But I want you to give me a chance. I know it’s a long shot, but I don’t have much of a choice.”
The stronger, more sensible part of you wants to walk away. Maybe slap him in the face, throw your water at him to make yourself feel better. Anything, as long as you leave. As long as you don’t look back.
But there’s still the part of you that stays. The one that goes to places you know he’ll be just to see if he’s doing fine. That wants to ask his brother how his finals went. That wants to forgive him right then and there, rush back into his arms, make everything alright.
So you compromise with yourself. You say, “Then win me back.”
You can tell that isn’t the answer that he was expecting. As much as you know him, he knows you too. He never expected you to bend, and while you haven’t fully done so just yet, you’ve given him an inch.
He’ll be damned if he doesn’t take a mile.
“Deal,” he says, smiling now. “You won’t regret this.”
You can’t help but chuckle at the bright look on his face. The way he lights up at the prospect of having you again. In the end, you always knew just how much you meant to him. In the end, you always knew just how much he meant to you.
“Oh, I have a feeling I will,” you tell him. “But, well, you know… Fuck it, right?”
notes. i too would be weak for osamu no matter what he's done to me 🙂↕️
#hqbaby.tag ur it!#hqbaby#haikyuu#sakusa kiyoomi#sakusa#sakusa x reader#miya osamu#osamu#osamu x reader#iwaizumi hajime#iwaizumi#iwaizumi x reader
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Would you maybe write something in the cowgirl au about something about the guy from the bar coming up again in reader’s life and she tries to hide it from JJ but is so upset and can’t?
Officer Davis
pairing: jennifer jareau x cowgirl fem reader
category: hurt/comfort
warnings: rape
word count: 1088
summary: your rapist comes up in your life again and jj comforts you
I flopped down on the hotel bed, happy to visit Texas. JJ was here for a case and I decided to tag along so I could visit my hometown.
I lifted my head off the pillow as my phone rang. I grabbed it from the nightstand and answered the call. "Hey baby." I heard JJ's sweet voice and my heart fluttered.
"Hi."
"I'm gonna go down to the police station. I've heard you might know a few of the guys." I could hear her smile through the phone.
"Tell me their names and I might be able to give you a few pointers."
"We've got...David Stafford."
"I went to high school with him. He's a cool dude. I didn't know he was a police officer now. He's really into football. He's gay though. So you shouldn't get hit on by him"
"Thank God. Trent Porter?"
"No. Never heard of him."
"Ok last guy...Brady Davis?" My heart stopped as my blood went cold. "Y/n?"
"No I uh...I don't know him."
"Ok." I knew she could tell I was lying but didn't want to press. "I'll be back in a few hours. Text me if you need anything, ok? I love you."
"Love you too." I hung up and pulled my knees to my chest, my brain felt loud but quiet at the same time. It was him. From the bar. The guy who raped me. How did he even become a police officer? Someone like him was supposed to be protecting the citizens? How fucked up was the system here?
I had no idea how much time had passed but I had just sat there in bed, alone with my thoughts until the hotel door opened. "Hey babe. I brought back some Panera." She handed me a bowl of mac n cheese, leaning over to kiss my cheek. "Everything ok?" I just nodded, not saying a word. "Do you still wanna go out and walk around?" She took off her coat.
"I just wanna stay here." My voice was quiet and no matter how much I tried to make it stable it still wavered.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." I took a big bite of mac n cheese.
"Ok...but you were really excited to walk around since you haven't been here in a few months and now you just want to stay in the hotel room. That isn't like you and I'm concerned." She sat down next to me.
"Well you don't have to be concerned. Can we just go to bed? I'm really tired and I haven't seen you all day and I wanna cuddle and go to sleep."
"Ok. We can do that." She kissed my temple and took my food so she could put it in the fridge. She came back over and laid on her back so I could crawl on top of her. "Good night my love."
"Night night."
I couldn't fall asleep that night, no matter what position I slept in. I had been trying to sleep for 6 hours and it just wasn't working. I thought of him. I thought of him knowing I was here and wanting to talk to me. To torment me. "Baby...why can't you sleep?" JJ yawned and rolled over to face me.
"Hm?"
"You've been tossing and turning all night." She lazily wrapped an arm around me. "Come here. I wanna cuddle." She gently kissed my shoulder before resting her head in the crook of my neck. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"
"It's nothing."
"It's clearly not nothing." She kept her voice gentle, tracing soothing patterns on my belly. Her eyes were still shut as she cuddled up against me. "I always know when you're upset. It's like a sixth sense. But I know it's really bad this time. I wanna help you. Can I please help you?"
"I don't...it's not something you should be worried about."
"You're my girlfriend. I'm always gonna worry about you." She kissed my neck tenderly and I could tell she was fighting off sleep. When I stayed silently she picked her head up from my neck and kissed my lips. "You can tell me anything baby."
"It's Officer Davis." I whispered.
"What about him?"
"He was..." I put my hand over my mouth, covering my face. She grabbed my hand gently and brought it to her lips, kissing it softly before kissing my shoulder.
"He was what, baby?"
"That guy. From the bar." My bottom lip trembled but my body relaxed as she scooped me into a big hug. "I thought I would never have to see him again but now I'm in the same town as him."
"Well you don't have to see him my love." She kissed my temple. "We can go back home if you want."
"But you're on a case."
"It's ok. They'll understand if I need to go home." She stroked my hair, holding eye contact with me with so much love in her eyes. "Just say the word and we can go home."
"But I don't wanna tear you away from work."
"Hey...baby that's not what you would be doing, ok? I would much rather go back to DC and make sure you're ok than stay here where you're not ok. You'd do the same thing for me." She pointed out.
"Ok. But I don't wanna leave. I'll stay."
"Are you sure?"
"Mhm."
"Ok." She kissed my forehead. "But you have the right to change your mind at any time."
"Thank you." I leaned my forehead against her chest, really wanting a hug. She got the message and wrapped her arms around me.
"Of course." She pulled me into her lap, kissing the side of my face a few times. "Just tell me if you need anything, alright?"
"Mhm." I leaned into her as much as I could, wanting to feel her body against mine.
"I love you so much." She gently grazed her fingertips over my back, wanting to make me feel as comfortable as possible.
"I love you too." I rested my chin on her shoulder and shut my eyes, feeling so tired after all the anxiety. "I wanna sleep."
"Ok baby we can-" She started to move me to lay down but I stopped her.
"No. I wanna stay like this."
"You're like a toddler." JJ laughed, stroking my hair gently. "We can sleep like this if you want."
"Thanks." I tucked my face into her neck, feeling myself start to drift off. "Love you."
"Love you too. Good night."
"Night night."
#x reader#criminal minds#jennifer jareau#jennifer jareau x reader#wlw post#lgbtq#jennifer jareau x you
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Mine. (Dadrry/Harry x Y/N)
A/N: this is based of Taylor’s Mine. I’ve not really wrote one shots so sorry if it’s not great. However, if anyone wants a request I’m open to do them. Any member of One Direction I don’t mind. Fluff, angst, smut let me know :)
Warnings: fluff, angst, slight bad language (I think that’s it)
Summary: Y/N didn’t have a great upbringing or a great love life till she met Harry. With ups and downs but she can’t help but think of everything that’s happened for her to be able to see Harry play with their children.
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Y/n sat on the sofa watching her husband play with their 2 children. Sophia and Aria. She couldn’t believe after everything she’s been through in her life that this is where she’s ended up. She lent back against the sofa thinking of all the memories, good and bad she’s had throughout this relationship.
Harry Styles was one of the most popular guys in college. Nothing bothered him and he had no interest in finding love. He had bills to pay and work to finish yet he still ended up hanging round with the popular kids. Y/n was a straight A student with parents who couldn’t care less about her and someone neither of them thought would look at each other.
One afternoon y/n parents decided to take a trip to the diner not far from the college campus. To y/n’s surprise the one and only Harry Styles was working waiting tables. They locked eyes with each other before shying away. This was the day y/n made a vow to dive into Harry’s past and help him in anyway she could.
Y/n made regular trips back to the diner. Usually on a Saturday afternoon when she knew Harry was working. He often looked at her but never knew how to approach her until one day he did.
“Hi” Harry muttered quietly. Y/n looked up at the curly haired boy, speechless at the fact that he’d spoken to her.
“Hi.” Y/n signalled for Harry to sit and to her surprise he did. Both of them sat nervously, unsure on what to say. After about 10 minutes, y/n finally got the courage to ask Harry why he was there. She found out that his parents had abandoned him when they discovered he was going to college rather than following in the family business. Leaving him to work out things for himself. That was the day that they both decided to pack up and leave the small town after college.
Y/n sat back and smiled at the memory. Remembering that at the time she was a big flight risk with fear of falling but Harry would be there to catch her everytime. They made things work though, falling further in love than they ever imagined they could. Harry promised that they would never make y/n’s parent mistakes and they didn’t.
She looked down to see Harry pretending to be dead, their daughters having just won some sort of game. The girls jumped up and down in victory. As she looked away, smiling she caught Harry tilt his head, winking directly at her.
Y/n remembered that it wasn’t all plain sailing for the couple. One big fight could have broken them both.
It was 2:30am and Harry had been out partying. He told y/n he’d be back by midnight. He still hadn’t come home causing y/n to worry. Harry wasn’t answering his calls or messages which worried y/n further. She didn’t want Harry to go having seen the Implications that come with drink and partying from her father. She was a natural worrier after constantly waiting for her father and sometimes mother to come home and when he or they did the beatings were worse. She didn’t want that again, she couldn’t. Around 10 minutes later Harry staggered through the door being extremely loud.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Y/n questioned, arms folded across her chest. Harry looked up with a beaming smile on his face, smelling strongly of vodka.
“I’ve been partyinggggg!” Harry shouted. Y/n wanted to scream, Harry didn’t seem to care about the fact y/n had been sat up waiting for him to come home, 2 hours and a half trying to phone him just to make sure he’s ok.
“Do you even know what time it is?” Y/n questioned further. She wasn’t going to let this drop. Harry held his arm up in front of his face, squinting at his watch to try and see the time.
“2:40am. Why?” Harry looked at y/n confused as to why anger was plastered all over her face. Harry stepped forward, reaching his hand out to touch her cheek. “Bunny?”
Y/n stepped back, swatting his hand away from him. “Have you any idea how long I’ve sat up trying to ring you? Just to make sure you were okay? You told me you would be back at midnight. I expected you to be half an hour late, god, even 45 minutes but two and a half hours Harry. Are you for real?” Y/n paused before she seriously blew her lid. She breathed harshly, sighing before continuing. “Then you come in here loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood, not giving a single shit about whether I’d be asleep or what. You said to me that we’d never become like our parents and look at you. You couldn’t care less.”
Harry was shocked, not once since they met had y/n flipped out about anything. She was the most kind hearted and wonderful person Harry had ever met.
“I went to a party y/n. You’re being totally irrational and unreasonable. Are you fucking serious?” Harry ran his hand through his now tangled curls, hurt and guilt crushing his heart.
“Yes. I’m being fucking serious.” Was all y/n said before storming past Harry and out the door.
The memory caused y/n to well up. Tears formed in her eyes threatening to fall. Then she simply remembered the words Harry said once he followed her out the door.
“Y/n!” Harry shouted after his girlfriend, his walk becoming a jog to catch up with her. Harry’s hand reached her shoulder, spinning her around to face him. Her face was red, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Bunny, I’m sorry. I told you that I would never leave you and I vow to stick to that. I promise more than anything in the world to keep you safe.” Harry paused, thinking back to their first date after they moved away from their awful hometown. “I still remember our first date. The one we had when we first moved. Sitting down on the river bank, the trees blowing in the summer breeze. Everytime I look at you it’s like going back to the first time I really fell in love with you and that was it. You sitting by the river, the sunlight going down yet somehow still making your face glow. I told you then that I fell in love with a careless man’s careful daughter and that you were mine. I meant that bunny. Forever.” Harry breath was harsh, his lungs begging for air. His heart clenched at the thought of loosing her.
And he didn’t. The tears streamed down y/n’s face as she continued to look at the scene in front of her. Harry caught sight of y/n crying out the corner of his eye. Without second thought he pulled himself up off the floor and sat beside y/n.
“Hey, what’s this? Why are we crying bunny?” Harry pulled y/n onto his lap, her head falling into the crook of his neck.
“I was just thinking about us, how it all began, how we could have lost each other over that stupid fight we had.” Y/n kissed Harry’s neck before lifting her head. She smiled at him before turning to see their children laughing at each other.
“Do you believe it y/n? We’ve made it baby!”
And y/n could. She could see it now.
#harry styles#harry styles x reader#dadrry#y/n#harry x y/n#fluff#angst with a happy ending#harry styles au#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles x you#Spotify
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Tony, Terry, Tommy? | Walk-In Hotfix
synopsis; You get an unexpected call from an old friend in need of an emergency repair. Good thing: that's kind of your whole gig. Bad thing: You've been avoiding the Berzatto family for the past year.
tasting notes; hurt comfort? idk man, he's in a fuckin' freezer. this is gonna be a long slow-burn series. We don't use Y/N here and we've got a very preestablished storyline going on babes. Eat up.
portion; 3.1k+
possible allergies; SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS, I've started writing this before Season 3 comes out in June so we're going WAY off canon (unless I'm an oracle), Mikey is gonna be central baby, any tw you require for the bear-- you require for this.
pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns!)
I have not written fanfiction in 5-6 years and once again some goddamn pretty boy just YOINKS me back in. I'm making up my own season three here so I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants with this series, hopefully it turns out. If it doesn't... C'est la vie, I had fun.
The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life— Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call from an old friend.
You stare at your screen for what feels like eons but it’s really just a few rings. It’s enough time to frantically search through blankets on your couch for your remote to pause your show— Which might as well be like 10 years of time. You’re heavily debating not answering; what if it’s something heavy? What if a mutual childhood friend died? What if it’s a love or murder confession? What if it’s about the money you owe her? The money she owes you?
Do you really want to take that kind of call? On what’s been a peaceful Friday night? That’s a rarity in your part of Chicago, c’mon. If it’s important, she’ll leave a voicemail... Who are you kidding, she doesn’t leave voicemails— Frankly, it’s bizarre and concerning that she’s calling in the first place instead of spam texting. …Alright, she’s let it get to the fourth ring, she’s probably dead or dying. You need to pick up.
“…Syd?”
She sounds infinitely stressed, but relieved to hear your voice.“Hey, hey, uh—”
There’s a cacophony of yelling, banging, and what you imagine are kitchen noises in the background. Guess she kept to her guns after Sheridan. That’s nice. Or maybe it’s not. Hard to tell.
“Are you good?” She can’t see the concern on your face or your free arm crossing over your waist— But she can imagine it in the worried lilt of your voice.
“Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah— I-I’m good— Well actually, no, I’m not good, that’s why I’m calling. Actually. Sorry. I know it’s been a minute, it’s fucked up to call only when I need something—”
“Syd.”
“Is your dad still a handy-man?”
Ah. Goodbye peaceful Friday night. Hello emergency hotfix services.
You click your teeth, “Oh, no, he retired. Got a case of… Getting fucking old disease.” But a part of you is relieved it’s a thing that’s broken, and not her. This is at least manageable— Whatever it is.
“Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Ha, yeah, my dad’s got that too— Well, okay, then I’ll talk—”
You’re quick to jump in. “I took over the business though. So, if you’re—" “We need help so bad right now.”
You can’t help but laugh at the speed of it, but immediately feel guilty hearing the desperation in it. “Yeah? Who’s we?”
You stick the cellphone in the crux of your neck, already walking across your apartment to throw on your jumpsuit— Dark navy blue, elbow length sleeves, dad’s old logo embroidered on your right breast pocket.
CHICAGO’S KINDEST ⚒ FIXERS & CO. It’s managed to grow on you.
There’s an egregious number of patches ironed or sewn onto the back and shoulders of it. All from businesses you and your father had either worked with or done odd jobs for. A NASCAR jumpsuit, but for nostalgia and small businesses. Something something ‘it all starts with your neighbourhood’. Your dad would say.
Syd continues, she hasn’t changed much. You hear her sharp dicing in the background, the rhythm seems to calm down into an actual flow instead of erratic speed. You figure either the dinner rush is starting to slow down or she’s relieved you’re coming. Who are you being humble for, no shot it’s the former.
“So, you know how I’m like— Like a chef and shit?”
You hum the affirmative, putting her on speakerphone so you can pull out your tool kit with both hands.
“So like, I actually co-own this restaurant opening tonight.”
“Oh nice!”
“Yeah— Yeah, yeah, it’s really nice, but actually, it’s not, because it’s bad.”
“In the way I can fix?”
“In the way you can fix, yeah. Hopefully.”
“What’s the damage?”
“So, my co-owner uh, Carmen, he got locked in the walk-in. Like trapped.”
You take a beat, a confused one. Half-stepping, almost tripping. You stare at your tools, picking out what you’ll actually need for this— How the fuck— “How is he trapped in the walk-in?”
“So, he meant to call to get it fixed—” “And he didn’t?” “And he didn’t.”
“What was broke about it in the first place?”
“The doorknob on the inside, broke off. And right now, or, more like, 5 minutes ago, the handle on the outside broke off too.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah, fuck.”
“Do you have the outside handle, still?”
“Yeah. Yeah, laying around somewhere— It snapped off though, like—”
“Clean?”
“Uh…. Y’know, I would check, but I’m actually kinda—"
“Can we run table 36, please, Chefs?!” Now that’s an uncomfortably familiar voice.
“Yes, Chef! …I’m kinda busy.”
“Right. Restaurant. Oh, what fucking restaurant? You said Carmen, that’s that fuckin’ Michelin guy, right?” Berzatto. It has to be. The smallness of this world is a personal prank on you.
“…How do you know that?” Son of a bitch.
“…I try to remember what you like.” It’s a good save, but that was too intimate for 3 years of no contact besides Happy Birthday texts, fuck fuck, recover— “Ahem, uh, Restaurant?”
“The Bear. Formerly The Beef. You do still live in Chicago, right?”
Berzatto. Confirmed. Bleh.
“Fortunate for you, I do. I know The Beef, I’m not far, I’ll be there in ten. Tell him to not have a panic attack, if you get a minute.”
“I will not get a minute. But I love the dream.”
And you’re off. Jumpsuit half zipped over what was supposed to be a sleep shirt but is now posthumously a work shirt. Nobody has to know you’re wearing pajama shorts under this. Carhartt jacket thrown over your shoulders— Your dad’s, so, a bit oversized. Toolbox in hand, utility belt on— Though you’re mildly sure if your hypothesis is right, you will only need your threateningly long sledgehammer.
Thank God for your car. CTA would not like you right now.
You pull up front. Oh boy. The sign change is making you feel a type of way that you were not expecting. Pride? Envy? All seven of the deadly sins? Maybe. No time to stew on it because there’s an older woman smoking and having an emotional spat with who you assume is her shivering son out front. So. Definitely going through the back alley instead of getting in the middle of that shit.
Alas, it’s not any better, because there’s Syd, vomiting next to a dumpster.
“Better to ignore or acknowledge you in this moment?” Is the response you decide is best, despite the question, you’re already by her side. You put your tools down (out of the splash zone) and rub her back with one hand, holding back straying braids with the other.
“I couldn’t—” More vomit. “Fuckin’ tell ya.” Syd takes a few deep breathes before standing. She considers going in for a hug, but remembers, the vomit. “Good to see you. I want to catch up, f’real, but—” “The bear in the walk-in?” “The bear in the walk-in.”
You nod, fishing through your pocket. You hand her a mini container of Tums. She waves it off, of course, and you double down, of course, “Who you acting tough for?”
“Fuckin… No one.” She grimaces, taking the box. She makes a show of taking one, like a fussy kid.
You refuse to take it back. “Keep it.”
“Never stopped being the mom friend, eh?”
You laugh, picking up your tools again. “Listen, there’s no telling what the night and your stomach holds. Lead the way?”
The Bear is pretty, or at least the kitchen of it is, so far. It’s clean. Cleaner than it used to be. The death trap walk-in is really the only eyesore for you. You stare at the broken-off handle in your hand, twisting it back and forth to look at all the angles. It’s honestly a pretty clean break.
Sydney’s left to talk to her dad, as she should, and the rest of the kitchen is either too busy to pay you mind or is just silently relieved to see you.
Tina— Who has thankfully opted to not say ‘Hey, good to see you, it’s been a year, what the fuck’—Taps the walk-in door and says to this elusive Michelin Carmen that she’ll be right back, that help’s here. He does not seem to register this at all. She gently slaps your cheek before rushing back to her station, regardless.
“Maybe I’m just not built for this, maybe, maybe that’s okay— Maybe that just is.”
You’ve never said his name to him, it feels heavy on your tongue. “Carmen.”
“Right? What the fuck was I thinking?”
Alright, he’s too far gone. You flag down one of the cooks that are just shadowing for the night. “Hey, can you hold this in place for me?”
You stick the handle into what’s left of the hinge still attached to the door, which is, not much— But hopefully, again, if your hypothesis is correct, it’ll give enough leverage. The cook holds it in place, a little terrified as your sledgehammer comes into view.
“Not gonna hit you, promise.”
“—I’m a fuckin’ psycho. That’s why. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”
You tap (bang) the hammer on the door, enough to stop his train of thought. For a second, at least. “Sweetheart, I need you to stand up for me, Carmen Chef Sir.”
“…Tony?”
“...Who the fuck is Tony?”
The meek cook beside you speaks up, “He means Tommy.”
And Tina is quick to yell from across the kitchen— hearing how? We don’t know. “It’s Terry!”
“I am none of these people.” You sigh, readying the hammer. “Carmen, can you stand up, and just tuck your fingers in the wedge of the door? If there is one?”
“Heard. Yeah.” There’s shuffling from in there, getting into position. Though the steps and the words seem dazed, as he’s forced out of a mental fog. “Here.”
“This isn’t a fix by the way. Your whole door is fucked after this. Not that it isn’t already, but, y’know.” You back up, teeing yourself up before running forward.
“Well, wait—”
You slam the mallet into the tip of the handle perfectly, forcing it way too tight into the gap of the hinge. You push the cook aside with your hip, now using the long handle of the mallet to stick between the knob and the door, using it as further leverage to pull it open. It is incredibly straining.
“Carmy!” Is it okay to say that nickname before you’ve even seen his face? Eh. You’re moving the boulder, he’ll forgive you. “You feel air?!”
“Holy shit— Yeah, yeah— Push?!” “Of course fucking push!”
And it becomes apparent in this exchange of force that this Head Chef must be significantly stronger than you, because it’s opening a lot faster now. Though, fast is a strong word for the snail pace this is happening at. But it’s more than the nothing that was happening a minute ago.
“Aye… Cousin?” Richie, in a… suit? Runs up to you, coming from front of house. He immediately grabs a free spot on the sledgehammer’s handle to help pull. He was shocked to see you doing, well, this, right now, but then upon registering, he’s just shocked to see you. Period.
You can only groan in response, sticking a leg up and putting your foot on the wall as if it’s gonna add meaningful leverage— Oh wait, it kinda is. “Y'clean up good, Rich— Opening going—Fuck— well?”
“Oh yeah, fucking peachy.” He can only manage to wheeze in reply. Investing his strength in yanking rather than reintroductions; thankfully it pays off.
The hinge shoots open, you would have absolutely fallen on your ass if Richie was not ready to stabilize you. The walk-in door cracks open. Just a bit. It’s not dramatic, it’s just a breath.
It’s so anti-climactic that Richie doesn’t mind walking off to cheer before Carmen even comes out. Clapping your back as he does. “Let’s what I like to fuckin’ see, Cousin! Ingenuity!”
Though, to be fair, he’s moving to intercept a very sweet looking, worried girl. You look up at her, wheezing as you keel over slightly to catch your breath, hands on your knees. She’s saying something along the lines of ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Is he okay?’ Girlfriend? Probably. Richie seems to be coaxing her accordingly. You turn your head back to the door. Carmen hasn’t come out yet. That’s a red flag. With another wheeze, you stand up right, opening the door further, peeking in.
He's standing there, catatonic. Not looking at you, but straight forward, beyond you. He must’ve been by the door to push it open but now he’s stumbled against the back shelf. Every time his girl’s voice manages to ring into here, his eyes crinkle— Wince. His breath keeps hitching. He looks afraid. It is better to be caged right now than it is to be out there, doing whatever he could be doing, right now. Talking to anyone might be a death sentence, right now.
“I don’t need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I don’t need to receive any amusement or enjoyment. I’m completely fine with that.” He mumbles repeatedly. You can barely hear it over the buzzing of the freezer.
Whispering it just for himself, like some sort of fucked up mantra. Like it’s a state of inner peace to feel this bad. You doubt he even sees you right now.
You know you don’t know Carmy personally. Mostly just through hearsay.
He’s never met or heard of you, that’s for sure.
But you know Berzattos. Or. Knew the one.
And you know a downward spiral. Intimately.
And you know that right now, he’s fucking cold. He is shivering and making no move to leave that state. You think he thinks that’s the state he deserves to stay in.
Nothing to lose but a good first impression, right? You drop a screwdriver in the doorway as a doorstop— Because how fucking dumb would it be if you both got stuck? And. Extremely slowly, you approach him not unlike approaching an actual captive bear. In your eyes, you might as well be.
Standing right in front of him doesn’t stop his mantra. You slip your jacket off, half hugging him to drape it over his shoulders. “You’re just cold.”
“I’m a—” “You’re just. Cold.” You cut him off before he has the chance to self-deprecate again, smoothing out the sleeves on him. His eyes readjust to actually look at you rather than somewhere beyond.
You sniff. You’re already cold and it’s been 30 seconds. This poor thing. You rub your hands together, breathing hot air into them before touching them to his frigid fucking face. “Fuck you’re really cold. Like danger cold.”
Never being one for boundaries or hesitation, you hug yourself to him. It’s the fastest way to warm him up. You slip your hands under the jacket— Your jacket— And just engulf the Italian Popsicle Man before you.
Shockingly, he doesn’t push you off or suddenly reawaken to his senses and tell you to fuck off. He doesn’t flinch, if anything he leans in. His body doesn’t really have time for surprise, right now, it just takes what it needs. And what it needs is warmth and oxytocin. His breathing slowly but surely self regulates, and once you start to remember decorum you lower your arms— But. He opts to place his chin on your shoulder, like the world’s most gentle hook, and that alone is enough to keep you there.
It's a long, silent, liminal spacey moment before he speaks again. Both of you speak just above the decibel of the freezer's buzzing.
“You’re not Tony.”
“Terry.”
“You’re Terry?”
“No, Tina said Tony’s Terry. I don’t know who the fuck Terry is.”
“Terry’s the fridge guy.”
“You’re still going to need to call him; I did just make it worse.”
“That’s fine.” He swallows. “Who called you?”
“Syd.”
“Should’ve called you earlier.”
“Should’ve called the fridge guy earlier.”
“Yeah.” He sighs, but he makes no move to move, so you don’t either.
“You know Mikey too?”
Ah. The patch. The Beef. It's worn, but it sits proudly on the left shoulder of your jumpsuit. Your heart tightens and so does your posture.
“Yeah.” You sigh. It’s shakier than you’d like it to be. “Dad knew him, so then I knew him, so then I occasionally fixed shit for him. Shit that ‘Fak couldn’t?’ I think his name was?”
“Hm.” He hums. “He ever got locked in the walk-in?”
“Yeah, he really fucked it up, like waayy worse than whatever happened with you tonight. Like whatever happened. At least 10 times worse.” Your voice is coated with sarcasm, but it’s not entirely untrue.
You’re relieved, when Carmen laughs at this, a touch maniacally, but it’s something. Right now, any emotion from him besides regret and anxiety feels like a trophy. He straightens up, pushing his hair back, so you remove your arms.
“You’re fuckin’ funny, Tony.”
“Still not Tony.”
“Oh my god!” A blonde, very pregnant woman cracks the door open, relieved. “Are you okay, Bear?” You step aside so she can hug Carmen, holding his cheeks to look over him. Oh, this has to be—
“I’m good, I’m great, Sug.” He says this incredibly unconvincingly, hanging one hand on her wrist.
But what matters more in your brain right now is: That’s Sugar. Natalie.
And now you can put a face to both siblings you’ve been bitched about to.
Chain-smoker, means well, cringeworthy husband, too good for her family, incredibly judgemental, cares too much and worries more, loves to fight, her mother’s daughter, pushy, sticks her foot in her mouth, can’t take no for an answer, would lay down her life. Natalie Berzatto. Little sister.
Michelin Star retaining, big shot, sensitive, definitely a virgin, ball buster, sweats the small stuff, sweetheart, asshole, incredibly smart, flighty, coward, deeply loyal, whiny, screamer, show-off, fantastic drawer, shell, mister new york, annoyingly humble, undeniably the most talented. Carmen Berzatto. Baby brother.
Mikey’s words. Of course.
Nat turns her gaze over to you, “Thank you.” You can only bring yourself to nod in reply, a bit awkward— Lost in your rolodex of memories of the people you’ve never actually met until right now. It’s weird to feel parasocial about a normal person.
“Our toilet, exploded.” She says.
Now that pulls out you of it, and gets a laugh out of you. You put your hand over your mouth. “Yeah?”
Sugar shakes her head, eyes widening like she’s just stepped in it, “I didn’t mean like— Like, you just did a job, right, that’s like tacking on another last-minute service—”
“That’s fine.” You put a hand up stopping her from continuing, still chuckling. “I’ll take a look at it tonight and try to fix it tomorrow?”
She nods, smiling bright, “Thank you, Tommy.”
Who needs to use Y/N when you have the fridge guy?
I so desperately hope you liked this first chapter. I've been stewing on this for like a week so I beg of you to reply/reblog/send me an ask (anon or not!!) telling me what you thought!! Unless it's mean!! In which case, do NOT!!!
And just a forewarning, as we step into uncharted territory where the walk-in meltdown was cut short, I need you to hold my hand through it bb. We're making this man's life better or we're gonna die trying.
Next Part
#carmen berzatto#carmy the bear#carmy x reader#the bear fx#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#the bear fanfiction#the bear x reader#the bear x you#carmen x reader#carmen berzatto imagine
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