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#slight angst
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Number neighbors Pt.28
Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader
Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist
Word Count: 1.3k
Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?
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You wouldn’t describe yourself as someone who was regularly paranoid, but recently you've been more than a little on edge. You’d given the man at the market the benefit of the doubt, chalking his appearance up to going to the marketplace when the weather was the most reasonable- like you’d been doing, but that doesn’t explain the Suvs.
You don’t know how long they’ve been following you for, you’d been so stuck in your own world that you’d barely been paying attention to your surroundings but after Saturday you’ve been more cautious of your surroundings and that’s when you noticed the black Suv.
You don’t know if it’s the same one every time, they’ve always kept a far enough distance and you haven't been able to catch a license plate but they appear every so often when you go out. The windows are tinted far too dark to be legal so you can’t see inside but you occasionally find them parked outside of buildings you frequent and it’s starting to worry you.
You don’t want to worry your friends or your mom who would buy a ticket out there first thing though, so you keep to yourself and try to keep a distance from the cars and the marketplace (it’s a devastating loss to not have Gladys’ pastries on hand)
On top of that, everyone has been on edge because of the disappearance of most of the Avengers. As far as you know, Stark, Clint, Banner, and that Spider kid are the only ones still in New York which has civilians asking questions about where the others are and why they left. 
The anxiety from the lack of heroes has everyone grilling the government for answers, especially considering the fact that the crime rate has gone up just from petty criminals getting too cocky. Due to the constant heat The government has been under, they stated that they’ll issue a public service announcement in a week to explain the situation and you can practically feel the country buzzing with anticipation.
The situation makes you think of Nat and you wonder if her “not FBI job” has something to do with this and is the reason why she’s disappeared. You hope she knows wherever she is that you would’ve understood if she’d just explained the situation to you- but maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she was under some kind of NDA that could put her in danger.
Despite avoiding the marketplace you still get the feeling that you’re being watched and it makes you uneasy. You feel like you’re hallucinating with how often you see shadows moving somewhere nearby. You’re never able to catch a glimpse of anyone who might resemble the market man but the fear is enough to have you staying a few nights at your friend's house.
The Suv’s don’t appear for a while after the move and it allows you a small moment of reprieve. You push the lingering feeling of constant observance to the back of your mind despite your brain telling you to be on guard.
The stress of the situation is so tremendous you don’t even realize you’ve been forgetting to leave voicemails for Nat until your mom calls asking why you haven’t called her in a while. You don’t bring up the stalkers to avoid giving her a heart attack but you do tell her about the amount of stress you’ve been under and the toll it’s been taking on you. 
It feels so good to talk about it that you don’t even realize you’re crying until your mother's concerned voice is comforting you through the speaker. God, it was like the universe couldn’t give you a break lately. You hope whatever they’re putting you through all of this for is worth it. 
“Come home for a while, Y/n. it sounds like you need a break, I’ll take care of you.” The dismissal of her offer is on the tip of your tongue but the more you mull it over the more you think it might be a good idea. With the city on edge, the growing crime rate, and your new potential stalkers, getting away from the city is probably the best thing you could do right now.
Much to your mother's surprise, you agree and her excitement at having you come home has you smiling on your end of the receiver. The two of you spend the next hour looking for an affordable last minute and you find a plane that leaves in two days that the two of you agree on. It’s probably not nearly enough appropriate notice for time off but your boss agrees anyway and within the hour you’ve got plans to spend a week at your mother's out of town.
It’s the first vacation you’ve taken in a while and even if it was just going home you find yourself more excited than you’d been in at least a month. You hadn’t been this excited since-
Nat. You hadn’t been this excited since you were supposed to meet Nat. 
It probably didn’t matter to her that you were going out of town, it wasn’t like she was getting your voicemails anyway but- what if she showed up while you were gone? You shake your head, the possibility of that was slim to none and if she did come back while you were gone she’d just have to wait like she’d made you wait.
Still, she deserved to know about the kid on the skateboard you watched run into a pole earlier today, at least. You listen for the tale-tell sound of the beep after the long too-familiar ringing and you find yourself subconsciously smiling as you tell her random snippets from your week.
The breakfast your friend treated you to, the new show you started, the fair that got canceled due to raccoons breaking in to eat all the cotton candy. You avoid talking about the stalkers like you’d done with everyone else but you frown when the news channel starts covering another attempted bank robbery. 
Despite your own safety being in jeopardy you can’t help but worry for her wherever she may be, causing you to voice the thought, the humor in your tone replaced with a solemn resolve
“wherever you are… I hope you’re safe.” You shake your head, attempting to clear your mind from the restless thoughts in your mind “Anyway, sorry I know that was a lot- all that to say I miss you and I love you. Bye!”
You don’t even realize what you’ve said until 10 seconds later and you frantically press whichever number was supposed to delete the message. 
Shit.
It was such a force of habit to end your phone calls with an I love you. You can’t believe you almost confessed to Nat over the phone. Moreover, you’re freaked out by how much the words didn’t feel like a lie. If you were honest you’d been avoiding putting a label on your emotions because you were scared of how serious they were getting but apparently your brain had already decided for you. 
Love.
You loved Nat.
You Love Nat.
Fuck.
Your mind reels with the newfound discovery and you’re grateful you deleted the message before it would be stuck in her voicemail for her to one day hear. Your head's a mess as you set your phone down on the counter and go to pack up your stuff, you had a trip to get ready for and a relationship to overanalyze to try and pinpoint when you and Nat had gone from total strangers to you being in love with her.
 It all made sense now, the heartache, the worrying, the underlying tension between the two of you
It was just your luck that you’d discover you love her when you can’t even tell her. You’re so in your head with your emotions and figuring out what to pack that you don’t even register the sound of your phone’s female electronic voice as it declares
“Voicemail sent”
Pt.29
A/n: Classic mistake, Y/n, I’m sure everyone’s done that! Don’t worry it’s not like she can hear your voicemails or anything…or uhhh ~ Starry
---Taglist--
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lizardboiii · 3 days
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。・:*˚:✧ANGER MANAGEMENT {Possessive!SukunaxFem!Reader}
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✧Summary: Anger management was by no means your strong suit. No amount of lessons or prayers could change that. In fact, it feels like you’ve been doing a lot worse lately with the appearance of a new neighbor in your next door apartment.
✧Chapter summary: Gojo continues to haunt your dreams. Is this a premonition or just punishment?
✧Warnings: 18+, SFW, vulgar language, Satoru Gojo✧
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。・:*˚:✧⤷Pairing: Ryoumen Sukuna x afab!reader
。・:*˚:✧⤷Chapters: (i) (ii) (iii) (iv) (v) (vi)
。・:*˚:✧⤷w/c: 3k
。・:*˚:✧⤷Tropes: NeighborsAU!, AncestorsAU!
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。・:*˚:✧⤷Chapter V : BESERK
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"I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!”
Your wrists stung as you savagely yanked and pulled against your restraints. The rickety office chair you were strapped to rattled with every thrash.
You glared at the white haired male who leaned against his desk. His ‘innocent’ smile mocked your failed attempts of escape.
“I gave you an option.”
“CLEARLY YOU DID NOT!”
Gojo playfully shrugged at your seething form. If your hands weren’t currently tied to the chair’s arm rests you were sure they’d be around his neck by now. 
Yelling in frustration, you clenched your fists the best you could, “This is insane even for you, Gojo!”
Ignoring your complaint, Gojo hummed passively, tapping a nimble finger against his mahogany desk, “Your last name.”
You quirked a brow at Gojo’s sudden change of topic, “What?”
“It’s of similar status to the three clans who used to dominate Japan in the Heian period, is it not?” Gojo titled his head, “Kamo, Zenin,” he pointed to himself, “Gojo.”
You flinched at the sudden chuckle that forced itself from his throat, “But it’s even closer to that of Ryomen.”
Ryomen?
Confusion laced your face. Ryomen certainly wasn’t one of the ruling families who still held prestige even in today’s society. You weren’t even sure you learned about the name in school. Backtracking even further, your name most definitely did not hold the same status as his. Just what was he trying to imply?
“I don’t understand,” You met Gojo’s obsidian glasses.
He scoffed, “Of course you wouldn’t. Measures have been taken to erase any trace of the name.”
Pushing himself away from the desk, Gojo’s form gilded towards you. Large hands clasped themselves around the chair's armrests, pressing into your trapped forearms. Quickly, you turned your head away from him. A sorry attempt to keep some sort of distance between the two of you. 
“He was the so-called King of Curses. A title easily put to rest once the three clans finally joined forces that is.”
A small puff of air left your body before it started to turn into full blow laughter, “King of Curses, huh? Did you really take me here just to tell me a scary bedtime story?”
Gojo’s face remained stoic as he backed away from your giggling form, “No. I took you here to warn you.”
“Warn me of what,” you threw him an exaggerated smile, “Ghosts?”
The older man pressed his lips into a thin line, “Something much worse.”
Your eyebrow twitched, “Seriously Gojo give it a rest. I’m not falling for your stupid games.”
“This isn’t a game.”
You flinched at his cold tone. Straightening your back, you swallowed the lump in your throat, “Fine. I’ll humor you. What is it you're here to ‘warn’ me about?”
“Ryomen Sukuna,” Gojo’s face scrunched as if the name tasted revolting, “Monster, demon, curse, disgraced one. A living nightmare disguised as a Jujutsu Sorcerer.”
You mulled over the information spilling out from Gojo. 
Ryomen Sukuna. 
Jujutsu Sorcerer. 
Monster. 
Nonsensical words strung together which you’d normally roll your eyes at. However, Gojo’s tone held no amusement.
“Together the three clans of Sorcerers, Kamo, Zenin, Gojo, used their powers to end his reign of terror,” Gojo groaned dramatically, “Or so we thought.”
A sudden burst of laughter ripped through you as you tried to regain your breath, “You can’t be serious. First you kidnap me like some lunatic and now you're trying to convince me that the Boogeyman is real?! Gojo Satoru, I knew you were special but I didn’t think you were ‘special’ special.”
You flinched harshly when a massive hand snatched the back of your head, threading itself through your hair. Forcing your head up, Gojo’s darkened eyes met your own. You swallowed harshly. The faint pang of pain pulsated in your scalp.
“(y/n).”
You shuddered as your name rolled off his tongue. Grasping your hair tighter, Gojo bent down to your ear, “I’ll only say this once. Pay. Attention.”
You nodded slowly, allowing Gojo’s hand to tug slightly with every bob of your head.
A small smirk pulled the edges of Gojo’s mouth up, “Good Girl.” 
Releasing his hold, Gojo backed away slightly, “The last name (l/n) was almost always present when accounts of Ryomen were written. Whether it was servants, slaves, subordinates, concubines, or… berserkers.”
You chewed on your lip, “I still don’t understand what this has to do with me.”
“You will soon,” Gojo pulled a picture from his coat pocket and dangled it in front of you, “Very soon.”
Squinting your eyes, you scanned the poorly captured image. From what you could tell it was a picture of a man entering a limo. His face was hidden by the door, but you could see his gigantic form stepping into the expensive vehicle. 
You raised a brow, “I should be scared of a limo?”
“You should be scared of the man getting into the limo.”
“You can’t even see his face-”
Gojo placed a hand over your mouth and shook a finger, “That’s because his identity is confidential.”
It was hard to place the extreme confusion and anger surging through your body at the moment. You were expected to fear a man who you weren't even allowed to see? You internally face-palmed. Make it make sense.
Sensing your puzzled thoughts, Gojo huffed and removed his hand, “Your family used to serve a malevolent self-made God in the Heian period. Said God was assumed to be dead but the old bastards never fully finished the job.”
He tapped the picture in front of you again, “We found an ancestor.”
Realization crept up your spine, “So what you're saying is that the evil spirit God thingy back in the day was killed but not his children?”
“Bingo.”
“And you think because I'm supposably from a family who has served him for generations I'm going to turn evil?”
“Bingoish.”
You tried to find words only to fail. The whole situation was completely absurd. 
“Bingoish? What do you mean?”
You let out a choked breath when Gojo suddenly plopped himself onto your lap. Making himself at home on your newly taken aback form, he sighed dramatically. 
“Your temper is a tell-tale sign of what you actually are,” Gojo wrapped his arms around your neck and swung his feet passively, “You’ve got berserker blood in you.”
Gojo booped your nose, “A true soldier of evil.”
“GET THE HELL OFF ME, FREAK!”
Laughing off your boiling rage, Gojo stayed put, “Berserkers are men and, in extremely rare cases, women who are dormant jujutsu sorcerers. Their bodies contain exceedingly high levels of cursed energy.”
Your brain swam as you tried to understand Gojo’s gibberish. What the hell was he talking about?
“These individuals were so high in curse energy that the murderous tendencies of curses took over them,” Gojo pressed a finger into your chest, “Hence the name berserkers. Highly skilled, angry, vicious, and reckless soldiers who served the King of Curses at his peak.”
Gojo looked at you, “Case in point, they had incredibly intense angry issues.”
You clenched your jaw at his insinuation.  
“Don’t worry too much though,” Gojo patted your head, “These murderous tendencies could only be unsealed with a single flower, Wisteria. You're not going around eating random flowers, are you?”
You deadpanned, “Obviously not.”
Gojo shrugged, “Could've fooled me.”
Growling, you thrashed in your chair. Gojo gripped your neck tighter in an attempt to stay aboard the y/n express. 
“That's it, get off, Gojo! I have had enough with your stupid fairytales!” 
Gojo grunted when you managed to shake his body off you. Pouting, he placed a hand on his forehead, “I can’t believe you could do this to your own teacher!”
“I can’t believe you'd do this to your own student!” 
You let out a ragged breath, “Gojo I hope you realize how absolutely insane this all sounds. Jujutsu Sorcerers? Gods? Curses? Give me a break. Do you really think some ancient God’s ancestor is currently tracking me down in order to turn me into one of his super soldiers? To what? Reclaim his throne?”
“Yes.”
Mouth agape, you tried to conjure up some sort of reply before giving up. This was insane. Gojo was insane.
“Ryomen’s ancestor’s primary base is in Shibuya. The moment anyone in that city figures out what your last name is you're done for,” Gojo stood up from the floor, “(y/n), I understand this is hard to believe but trust me. You can not go into that city.”
Gojo placed a hand on top of your own, rubbing small circles into your skin with a pad of his thumb, “Okay?”
You exhaled, “Okay.”
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Soft chirps woke you up from your seemingly endless slumber. You groaned loudly and flipped over. Expecting to see a sleeping Sukuna, you were shocked to find his side of the bed empty. 
Running a hand over his emptied spot, you frowned slightly at the coldness. He had been gone for a while now. 
Sitting up, you rubbed your face with your palms. A slight sting in your brain made you wince. You had a killer headache. Jesus, how much did you drink? You could barely remember waking up in the middle of the night.
Peaking over at Sukuna’s side again, you bit your lip in frustration. He left you alone… again. Your heart throbbed for a second. Only a second, before you realized what you were doing.
Slapping your cheeks, you pulled yourself to your feet and threw on your discarded clothes. If he could act nonchalantly, so could you. In fact, you'd leave without saying anything and pretend it never happened.
Searching high and low for your phone, you smiled brightly when you found it sitting on Sukuna’s kitchen counter. 
Battery: 23%
Notifications: 0
Time: 10:04am
You sighed gratefully. You had more than enough time to make it to class. Slipping on your shoes, you flinched when the door handle jingled. Fuck. You should have been faster. 
Sukuna’s tatted form stepped through the door holding a small paper bag of groceries. His brows raised at your crouched form, “You're still here?”
You tried not to cringe too much at his harsh words. God Dammit, you really should have been faster.
Standing up, you rubbed your knuckles. “I just woke up. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
Sukuna rolled his eyes before setting down his paper bag, “Sure.”
You clenched your teeth at his openly accusatory comment, “I'm about to go talk with the front desk about my power,” Venom laced your voice, “Wouldn't want to bother my neighbor anymore.”
“No need, I already did.”
You blinked at the larger man. He had his back to you now as he started putting away various items. You noted it was a lot of food for just one person. Although you chalked it up to his greedy nature.
“Why?”
Sukuna scoffed as if it was obvious, “Your lazy ass wouldn't get up. No matter how hard I shook you.”
You cleared your throat, “Thank you. But you really didn't need to.”
Sukuna only grunted in response, paying no attention to you. Growing awkward at the silent treatment you scratched your head, “Well, see you around.”
“Are you going back?”
You halted at Sukuna’s voice, “Ya, I've got somewhere I need to be later on.”
Sukuna hummed, “See you tonight.”
You nodded your head in confusion, “See you.”
You exited Sukuna’s apartment with a bewildered expression. 
See you tonight.
Was he possessed? Did Yuuji suddenly grow a foot and take his brother's place? Why the hell was he being so nice??
You paused your thoughts. ‘Nice’ as in actually treating you like another human for once.
Shaking away cluttered thoughts, you were quick to rush to the shower. Unfortunately, the color of your face drained when you realized the water wasn't working. You could punch a hole through the wall. 
Rushing to your room, you piled on deodorant and prayed mint gum would hide the scent of day old wine on your breath. You'd have to talk with the front desk. Damn it, you should've just gone instead of Sukuna. What the hell was his problem?
The drive to your anger management classes went a lot better than the start of your morning. It was quick, easy, and predictable. You assumed it was because you finally managed to beat lunch hour traffic. 
You felt even better when you realized you were the first person to arrive at the meeting. Even Nanami looked shocked at your sudden appearance.
“Morning, Mr. Kento!” You wildly waved your hand at the blond man.
Nanami shook his head at your antics, “Good morning, Miss (l/n).”
You felt light as a feather as the lesson carried on. Actively participating, answering questions, hell you even threw in a story or two. You weren't the only one pleased with your sudden change in demeanor. You could swear you saw the faintest smile on Nanami’s stoic face.
As all good things do, eventually the lesson comes to a close leaving you alone with Nanami. You smiled at his taller form as he made his way over to you. 
“Pretty impressive stuff, huh?”
Nanami rolled his eyes and patted your back, “Thank you, (y/n). Keep it up.”
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep your smile from growing any bigger, “No overtime today?”
“No overtime today,” Nanami paused, “For you at least. Unless you're offering to help?”
You held your hands up, “Actually-” 
“Perfect. I have midterms to grade and I've been needing help.”
You cried internally as Nanami led you away from the door and into his office. 
This guy-
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You felt utterly drained as you finally made it back to your apartment complex. Nanami had kept you at his office for God knows how long. All you knew is if you ever saw another essay about psychology again you might actually lose it… again.  
Banging your head on the side of the elevator, you groaned when you heard a familiar ding. The doors opened slowly revealing a waiting Sukuna. You stared at his form in surprise.
“Are you just going to stand in there or get out, rat?”
Sukuna’s words pulled you from your shock as you glared at his from, “You don’t own the fucking elevator.”
Sukuna’s smirk turned downward as he shoved inside the small metal box with you. You grunted when his shoulder slammed into your own. Catching your fall, you flipped him off.
“Real classy, Pinkie Pie,” Stepping out of the elevator, you hesitated when Sukuna called your name.
“Don’t wear that outfit again. You're prettier than that.”
The metal doors closed on your jaw-dropped expression. 
“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” You threw your bag violently at the doors.
Loud cackling slowly disappeared as the elevator descended. You yelled out to no one in particular as you clutched your hair. As tempting as it was to rip out your own hair, you decided against the bald look. You were sure Sukuna would have a field day with a bald (y/n). 
Storming to your apartment door, you reached for your key angrily. All you wanted to do was take a hot shower and sleep. Though you were quickly reminded of your lack of water by a large pink slip plastered onto your door.
NOTICE! APARTMENT CLOSED DUE TO WATER PIPE BURST. PLEASE CONTACT FRONT DESK FOR MORE INFORMATION.
You had to be fucking kidding.
Slipping your key into the door, you twisted the key wildly. The door remained stagnant as the key rattled inside the door knob. You growled in frustration as you shoved your key in harder. A sickening snap almost made you see red.
Your key broke off in your door. Your door which apparently had its lock changed.
Slamming your fists against the white wood, you swore obscenities you weren't even sure were real words. The door creaked pitifully as you tried to force your way in. 
Finally stopping your assault on your door, you placed your forehead against the wood. Ragged breath escaped your mouth in random patterns as you slowly tried to calm yourself. 
What the hell were you going to do? All your shit was in there. Could they even do this? You'd have to ask Nanami about a possible lawsuit.
Spinning on your heel, you slid down the wood and hid your face in your knees. How could this day get any worse.
“What are you doing?”
Oh right, it can.
Lifting your head from your legs, you glared at Sukuna. He stood above your small frame with an apathetic expression as he held a newly acquired take-out bag.  
You pointed to your door with your thumb, “Don’t you know how to read?”
Sukuna hummed and snatched the pink slip off your door. A dark laughter erupted from his throat at the italicized print.
“Pipe burst, huh?” Sukuna rubbed his chin, “What did you shit too much or something?”
You watched Sukuna from below. His words seemed more to himself than to you.
“No, fuckhead.”
Dragging yourself up from the floor, you rubbed your back, “They didn't send me any notice or warning. This has to be illegal!”
Sukuna shoved the pink slip into your chest, “Illegal or not you're shit out of luck.” His eyes glanced behind you before he whistled, “Even broke your key. That's coming out of your deposit.”
You cluthced the pink slip and crumpled it, “This isn’t a fucking joke.”
Sukuna scoffed, “Figure that out all by yourself, rat?”
Your hand clenched into a first involuntarily. It would be so easy to hurt him right now. Make him feel how you feel. Sukuna watched your form with mild amusement, clearly interested in your next move.
Out of the blue, Nanami’s face flashed behind your eyes. You stopped yourself. You promised Nanami you were better than this. Unclenching your fist you sighed, “Forget it.”
You noted how Sukuna’s face dropped. His expression held an underlying disappointment. Did he want you to hit him again?
Sukuna mumbled under his breath, “I guess you're still not ready yet.”
You raised an eyebrow, “What?”
Sukuna shook his head, “Nothing. Come on.”
He waved a hand to follow him to his apartment. 
“Where are we going?”
Sukuna gave you a look, “You're more than welcome to sleep in the hallway.”
You rolled your eyes and followed after his retreating form, “Thank you kindly, neighbor.”
What the hell was this? Five Nights At Sukuna’s?
。・:*˚:✧⤷
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79 notes · View notes
glenechoslasher · 2 days
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"Savior" ||
Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader
Rating: None
Length: 2.1k
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Asked by: @photo1030
Ooo! Random thought, maybe can link to my last request. Reader (or character, your choice) gets hurt and Arthur has to take care of them. Maybe shot in the leg and he has to carry them. They get to see a softer side to him, being all caretaker and protective.
Protective Arthur is just... *chef's kiss* I can't explain it but seeing him so good with a gun, being able to down someone within seconds then to turn around and be so gentle with you?? I need it, crave it, even. Thanks for the ask, hon!~
*
It was supposed to be a simple bank coach robbery, just a quick in-and-out sort of situation, and you insisted that you go along to assist Mary-Beth and Sean, but with Arthur being as worried as he always was, he felt it was best to tag along and make sure Sean didn’t pull you into any other mischief. The Irishman, of course, took offense to that, but he didn’t exactly mind that you two wanted to tag along. The more the merrier, even if the cut of the pay was less.
As much as Arthur tried to insist you remain back, you were headstrong and refused to let him tell you what you were capable of. You’d had a successful string of heists you were able to pull off with the other gang members, so why would this one be any different? Without much argument afterward, you rode off on your horse behind Sean and Mary-Beth, and a disgruntled Arthur followed you all from the rear. 
It was difficult to put into words how this made Arthur feel, but he knew that going along to assist would have eased his discomfort, and hearing Sean’s plan to distract the coach was more than entertainment in itself. But with Sean being inept with firearms, Arthur had ridden alongside your horse to listen in on the plan. 
Mary-Beth was more than excited to get out of the camp and put her talent to good use, and even more so when you had offered to tag along if they wouldn’t mind. “Oh, this is excitin’!” She exclaimed with a large smile on her face. “Easy enough to flag ‘em down, I think.”
Sean was proud of his idea and felt that he should have had more credit, but Arthur, being who he was, was unsure and unimpressed with Sean’s usefulness when it came to stressful situations. 
“I’m just keepin’ an eye on you, MacGuire, I know they’re solid,” he stated matter-of-factly as his horse trotted along to the speed of Ennis. 
“Alright, alright, you get knocked out on a mission one time-”
“More than once,” Arthur corrected. 
The Irishman just scoffed and shook his head. “Look, you can write about it in your journals, but let’s get back to my job, the one I brought y’all in on!” He huffed.
You couldn’t help but laugh at how much those two men were always at each other’s throats, no matter what the other was doing. “Let’s focus, gentleman, the lady and I will have this done lickety-split, it’ll be a cakewalk.” You looked over at Arthur with confidence shining in your eyes, and you thought you caught a glimpse of a smile from across his face, but it was gone before you could blink. 
Sean led the way until they came to a crossroads, then he told you all to keep the horses out of sight as he scoped out where they could hide for the time being. “Alright then, here we are, they’ll be comin’ from the North any minute, you both know what you’re doin’, right?”
Arthur just scoffed and shook his head. “Course they know what they’re doin’,” he replied gruffly.
You jumped down from your horse and patted its muzzle gently. “Mary-Beth is gonna run out and flag ‘em down, I’ll be off a ways to scope out the guards, and you two will be behind the log. Sean will ring off some shots, and Arthur will come in and clean up while I pick ‘em off from behind. Easy.”
Sean looked satisfied with that response and nodded. “Alright, perfect! Now, Morgan, let’s go and get behind this log, you-” he pointed in your direction, “-get over to those trees and don’t be spotted. Mary-Beth, get ready.”
The redhead felt proud of this plan, he was sure everything would work out, and he had the details down to a T. Everything went fine until it didn’t.
Instead of spooking the guards to throw them off, Sean took aim after hearing the way one of the men spoke to Mary-Beth and scoped him from his spot behind the log. Arthur immediately began to fire, albeit reluctantly since Sean was deviating from the initial plan. He hadn’t caught sight of you yet, but he figured you were doing alright for yourself. Then suddenly, a man lunged for Mary-Beth and held a gun to her head, his arm clenched around her throat.
“Let GO of me!” She snapped, trying her best to claw at his arm.
“Got your little lady friend here! Drop your guns!”
Arthur removed his rolling block rifle and watched the man hide himself behind the woman through the scope. “Dammit, he keeps movin’, don’t got a clear shot.”
“I got it!” You suddenly yelled out, and before you had a chance to line up the shot, the man had heard you and took aim. The shot rang out and the bullet penetrated your upper thigh. 
Your scream echoed out and Arthur finally had a clear shot to take the man down for good. “Sean, get Mary-Beth! I got them!” He said as he threw the gun over his shoulder and took off running where you’d fallen to the ground. “Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbled to himself as he finally caught up to you. 
You were trying your best to hold onto your leg the best you could to apply pressure, but it didn’t help much, you couldn’t stifle the scream you released when it hurt a little too much. “Shit, guess I messed that up badly…”
“Nah, you didn’t, lemme see,” Arthur said as he moved your hands, checking out where the wound was. “Ah, right through the meat of the leg but just missed your femoral artery. You’ll be alright, just gotta treat it when we get to camp. C’mon, it ain’t gonna feel pretty.” 
Arthur grabbed his bandana and tied it around your leg the best he could to keep pressure, then he scooped you into his arms and carried you back to his horse. 
Sean and Mary-Beth had cleaned out the coach and the dead men’s pockets as he took care of you, but Mary-Beth felt awful. “Are they gonna be alright?” She asked, her tone laced with worry. 
He just nodded and helped you as carefully as he could onto his horse, but the discomfort was a lot, yet you remained as strong as you could and held onto the horn of the saddle. “Call my horse, please…” You whimpered. “Can’t leave ‘em here…”
“You worry ‘bout yourself, your horse’ll be fine,” the gunslinger assured you as he hopped on behind you. “It’s gonna hurt with the ride but the faster we get back the better. Y’all go on, we’ll split the money when we meet back, don’t let anyone follow you.”
“Sir, yes sir,” Sean said with a meek smile, feeling awful you’d been hurt. “Take care of ‘em, will ya?” 
Arthur nodded in response, whistled for your horse to follow, and rode off as quickly as he could. The ride was definitely painful, but you managed to hold out long enough until you got back to camp, where Arthur had taken you to your tent, which thankfully had some privacy. He left you alone for all of two minutes when he came back with all the necessities he needed to fix you up proper. 
You lay there on your cot, and as you tried to look up at him to speak, all you could do was groan in pain until he placed his hand gently on the back of your neck, having you sit up slightly. “Here, take a shot of whiskey, it’ll help a bit. I gotta dig the bullet out and cauterize the wound.”
After hearing all that and swallowing the burning liquid, your consciousness was in and out, very hazy, until you saw black and just heard the sound of Arthur’s voice. 
Hours later, you awoke with a dry hoarseness in your throat, your eyes blinked rapidly to adjust to the low lamplight that had been inside your tent, and you looked up to see Arthur beside your cot. He already reached for the deerskin and placed it to your lips. You drank greedily at the water until you felt satisfied enough to pull away, coughing from the coldness. 
“There you are,” Arthur greeted softly, removing the deerskin from your grasp. “You’re gonna be fine, just gotta stay off the leg for a while,” he commented. “You feelin’ alright?” He leaned over and dunked a cloth into a bucket of water, then wring it out, and placed it gently over your forehead. 
You looked over at him and smiled softly. “Didn’t know you were so caring,” you joked softly, chuckling to yourself. 
Arthur waved his hand dismissively and scoffed. “Had my fair share of bullets is all, makin’ sure you don’t pull a stunt like that again, you hear?” 
You nodded and a small smile crept across your face, you couldn’t help but stare up at him and admire the man. He acted as if he didn’t care much about others, that he wasn’t any better than a stone-cold killer, but here he was worrying about you and taking care of you. Usually, it was left up to one of the women who were more well-versed in bedside manner, like Miss Grimshaw, but Arthur had insisted on your behalf. Naturally, he didn’t tell you this, it was Mary-Beth who informed you when she came in to visit while Arthur had gone to refill the bucket and grab some more medical supplies from Strauss’s wagon.
“Oh it’s been real sweet, he ain’t left unless he needed to get somethin’ for you,” Mary-Beth beamed. “Almost like somethin’ straight out of one of my books, he’s been real particular, too.”
“Of what?” You questioned.
“He hasn’t let anyone other than me and Tilly into your tent, even was on edge when Charles offered to help.” 
This information made your cheeks feel warm, he was practically babying you back to health, you’d never seen this side of him before. “Wow, I would have never expected Arthur Morgan to be at my bed-side,” you teased as you looked up at the young woman. 
She nodded, still all smiles. “Well, I hear him comin’ so that’s my cue, better leave you to it or else he’ll kick me out,” she joked and stood up from the chair. “You feel better, and holler if you need anythin’ from us.”
“Thanks, Mary-Beth.”
She nodded her head and left the tent, then was quickly replaced by Arthur, who set the bucket down beside his chair and had a bowl of stew in the other hand. “You think you can eat yet?”
You hummed in response and wet your dry lips with your tongue. “I can try if it’ll make you feel better.”
“It would, now here,” he offered as he slowly placed his hand beneath your shoulders, giving you a little push to help you sit up.
“Heard you’ve been fussin’ over me since we got back, that true?”
Arthur sighed, knowing damn well Mary-Beth was going to say something to you at some point. “It ain’t a big deal, no big drama,” he waved it off. “Just makin’ sure you’re gonna be okay, which you are, by the way.” He held the bowl until you were ready to take it and try to feed yourself, but still leaned forward in case he needed to grab it from you. “Just rest up and you’ll be right as rain soon enough.” You grabbed the bowl and smiled over at Arthur, the adoration in your eyes quite apparent. “Arthur… thank you, I know you’re gonna think it’s no big deal, but it is to me. Couldn’t have made it without you,” you remarked. “I owe you-”
“You don’t owe me nothin’, well, except maybe one thing.”
Your head perked up and you offered him a smile. “Anything.”
With that, his mouth curled into a wide smile, thoughts running through his head as if he could have said so many things, but those thoughts would be shared later. For now, he figured he should settle on the obvious. “Promise me next time you ain’t gonna go runnin’ with MacGuire, you need a job done, you ask me.” He sat back in the chair and offered a lopsided grin. 
Thankfully you didn’t bring the spoon up to your mouth; you’d laughed and almost dropped the bowl. “Sure thing, Arthur, anything for you.” Your eyes locked with his and you couldn’t help but feel like you owed him more than that, but for now, you owed him to get better and listen for once. You’d show him how grateful you were when you could use your leg again. 
“Hey, Arthur?”
“Hmm?”
“Thanks again,” you said softly. 
The man just chuckled and lit up a cigarette after getting your permission. “Anytime, sweetheart.”
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k4thl18n · 2 days
Text
First Kiss (Break 1)
A strollonso AU where 18 year old rookie Lance Stroll falls helplessly in love with the notoriously mean world champion. (1.2k words, no warnings) [@v3lnys] {filler chapter? I just felt like Lance and Nando getting closer would make more sense if they spent break together + Mark}
last part - masterlist - next part
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They had two weeks off and Lance had absolutely no plans, Nico was on vacation with his family to god knows where, Fernando had probably already arrived in Australia, and Lance didn't have any other friends on the paddock to worry about.
He had thought about going back to Canada but he just ended up back at his house in Switzerland. Spring had started by the time he got home so it wasn't like he could distract himself with snowboarding so he just ended up at home on his couch for the past five days.
Being alone was nice, but a part of him missed Fernando, oddly enough. They'd only ever hung out on the paddock but Lance had grown to look forward to the time they spent together, whether it was actually sitting and talking or just exchanging glances while in the middle of interviews.
As if it was fate, his phone began to rang. It was an unknown number but he figured it might be important, his dad had a history of calling him from random places just to check up on him, as if the 18 year old hadn't been left alone before.
"Hello?" He said, holding his (very small) phone to his ear
"Lancito, I am so glad you answered!" a voice on the other end spoke, a very familiar voice
"Nando?" Lance questioned "How did you get my number?"
"Is not important!" The Spaniard said, brushing off the question "Lancito, are you busy? If you are, cancel, come to Australia."
"No, I'm not busy." Lance responded, wondering if Fernando was really inviting him to Australia, wasn't he with Mark? Wouldn't that be awkward? "Is something important happening in Australia?"
"Si, You are coming, is important."
"Nando, I-" The younger boy laughed, not being able to wipe the smile off his face just from hearing the other mans voice "Sure, I'll come."
"Perfect, I'll send you the information, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, okay Nando"
"Bye, Lancito! Have a safe flight"
And with that the call ended and Lance wasted no time in buying the tickets to Australia (idk how people bought plane tickets in 2006...)
Lance got off the plane, trying to pat down the hair he could feel sticking up, he always slept on long flights and this one was no acception. It was weird being in Australia a week before he had to but he wasn't going to turn down Fernando is he wanted Lance there so bad, for whatever reason.
It was a Sunday morning and the airport was surprisingly busy, he eventually found his way out and got a taxi headed towards the address Fernando had texted him
"Just landed, headed your way now!!"
Lance stared at the screen before sending the message, just now wondering why exactly he was there, he wasn't blind to the media, especially when he was constantly being interviewed and asked questions fans were dying to know, he had heard the rumours, people saying Fernando was only talking to him to scare him, he was going to embarrass him, he had some ulterior motive, Lance hoped it wasn't true but now that he was blindly following Fernandos orders in another country while he was visiting his friend (who's seat he took) a part of him started to wonder if Fernando was planning something. He hit send.
They'd hadn't texted much, just Fernando sending him the information he needed and Lance thanking him before he got on the plane and turned off his phone, he wasn't too fond of it anyways.
"I am glad you made it"
"Is exciting"
"Tell the driver to go faster"
Lance smiled at his phone, excited to see the Spaniard again, even though he saw him not even a week ago.
"I shouldn't break the law yet"
"I just got here and my dad isn't here to bail me out!"
"I will do it, no worries Lancito"
He shook his head at the text, turning off his phone and waiting to arrive, not too far away from the location
He stepped out of the car, paying the taxi fare then walking up to the house, hesitating to knock. Maybe texting would be better? Or calling? Or anything besides knocking? Before he even had the chance to decide the door opened, revealing a slightly-taller-than-him Mark Webber and Fernando standing by his side, the two closer than he thought they would be
"Lance, welcome, so sorry about making you come so randomly." Mark spoke first, stepping back to invite Lance in
"It's no problem, I wasn't doing anything anyway" Lance smiled as he walked into the house, scanning what he could see
"I told you Lancito didn't mind" Fernando said to Mark, hitting his arm slightly "Is good to make sure you two get along before people start to speculate, ay?" Fernando smiled at Mark then at Lance, reaching up to flatten the hair still sticking up on his head
Lance wasn't sure why he was surprised Fernando was still calling him his nickname, he didn't know why he expected anything to change with Mark around, Fernando seemed the same, if anything he seemed happier around Mark. It made him feel bad, he was the reason Mark lost his seat, the reason Fernando's friend was no longer on the paddock, the reason Fernando had to settle for him instead.
"Well, Lance, I don't mind that you took my seat" Mark laughed, closing the door before putting an arm around Lance's shoulder "I was done with travelling all the time anyway, so don't beat yourself up over what people say"
Lance nodded, Mark was right, and he was pretty old so it made sense for him to be smarter.
"Now, how about we have fun now that we've dragged you to the land down under?" That made Lance smile, he was looking forward to spending the rest of his break actually doing stuff besides binging TV shows.
The next week went by so quick Lance was surprised when he actually had to go to the paddock, almost as surprised as fans when he showed up with both Fernando and Mark.
He hesitated when Fernando suggested all of them going together, worried about what people would say, but the older men made it obvious they couldn't care less so thats how they ended up going together, Mark having plans of doing interviews around the paddock and spending his free time in sither the pink or blue and yellow garage.
Being in Australia a week early was great, they were busy the whole time but Lance enioyed it, loving the time away from his phone and especially away from the media. It made him notice how close Mark and Fernando really were, he felt jealous at times but it was probably just because he was used to having Fernandos attention on him after quali and races, he felt selfish for feeling that way so of course he never addressed it.
"Where are you going first?" Lance asked, looking at Mark, both of them on either side of Fernando
"I was thinking of interviewing people first, it's gonna be weird being the one asking the questions"
"As long as you stay far away from me, we're good"
Fernando shook his head, pulling the taller man closer "We really need to get you used to the media, eh? All you do is complain" He sucked his teeth after he finished teasing Lance, earning nothing but an eyeroll from the teen
"Yeah, yeah." Lance smiled, not able to stop himself when it came to Fernando "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."
And with that the race week started.
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pigeonpeach · 2 days
Text
My Heart Calls Your Name
Nilou x gn eremite reader part 3
Summary: The week had gone by faster than expected. Now you must depart back to the desert. Although you had spent years in the desert, it doesn’t feel the same
Little warning for alcohol
“Well I was wrong.” Clear Water proudly proclaimed seeing you walking towards her and the rest of the tribe. They turned mildly surprised but hid it quickly. “So. How was your vacation? Just what you needed?” Clear water asked. You nodded.
“It was nice. I’ve learned alot culinary wise.” You said with a smile.
“So you didn’t spend time with that dancer lady?” Your matriarch teased. “Say wheres your mask at?” You searched your bags finding it missing. You must’ve left it with Nilou..
“Oh crap.” You sighed. ClearWater sighed.
“We have extra, here.” Pulling it from one of the bags. You dawned it on, obscuring your vision slightly but still able to see. There was something in your heart. Like a flower stuck in a tiny pot, eager to grow beyond the clay walls. But you knew it was for the best. You would get over it someday.
“You didn’t answer my question little chef, what did you do while you were gone?” The Matriach asked once more.
“Ah, well I helped her theatre group and tried some foods. I have new recipes to try now so I say it was nice.” You answered. She noticed your hesitation.
“You’re okay right?” She asked shooing the rest. They left to probably recount supplies and feed the sumpter beast. But Clear Water still glanced at you occasionally.
“W-why wouldn’t I be?” You asked confused.
“Well You seem disappointed. Like you wanted to stay there.” She answered. You gulped.
“I mostly miss getting to sleep on a mattress mostly.” You dismissed. She seemed unconvinced.
“Hopefully you didn’t soften too much. Its good to see you again.” She patted you on the shoulder, sending you off to held load the sumpter beast’s cargo. Now alone with your thoughts you couldn’t help but feel like every step and movement was harder. The Ribat is familiar, you’ve come here more times than you could count on both hands and toes. This job is what you’ve held for years now with no other change until now. But something felt disheartening to know you may never see Nilou again, her theatre team, the various dads you befriended who were equally enthusiastic with cooking as you. You felt the unrealistic desire to run right back to the city and look for Nilou, profess your love and let that determine your destiny. But its too late now.
“Hey!” Clearwater said catching your attention.
“Oh sorry.” You said facing her.
“Its fine, I was just asking you what the deal with that dancer lady is.” She sighed carrying a bundle of peppers and radishes. You felt confused, your tribe hardly ever brought vegetables. “Oh and I wanted to show you some veggies we got. I figured you must’ve been tired of the meats so I wanted to give you some variety.” You nodded.
“Thanks. And her name is Nilou.”
“Nilou. Oh yeah you told me about her, you spent alot of time with her didn’t you?” She asked casually, adjusting the straps on the Beast. You focused your attentions on scratching behind its head to help it relax, it grumbled in thanks as it leaned closer, giving Clear Water a better chance to reach the one open flap that bothered her.
“Yeah. She was great. She was friends with so many people. Everywhere we went she’d get like discounts and freebies because she knew the owners. Even got me a nice inn room for a reduced price.” You smiled. “I got to try lots of other foods too. Padisarah Pudding was my favorite. Unfortunately those ingredients are harder for us to get and maintain so I won’t be able to cook it.”
“Sounds tasty. What was she like?”
“Lovely.. i-i mean her dancing was lovely. I helped her theatre group and had dinner with them lots, they were all so welcoming and nice. Nilou made sure I never overworked myself though. She even taught me to dance.” You smiled reminiscing.
“Really? So I’m guessing it didn’t work out?” She asked. You paused looking at her directly. You thought about denying it, but at this rate you knew it was true. It seemed like everyone knew anyways, there was no use in denying it.
“I- uh… never told her. I just… didn’t have the courage.” You said quietly. The sumpter beast grumbled wanting more scratches to which you obliged.
“You should’ve. You need too actually.” She said quieter as well. She picked up more bags to slide on-top of the beasts.
“Well I can’t anymore. She couldn’t come to see me off so unless I want to delay our leave I can’t tell her now.” You said.
“Send a letter. If you never tell her then you’ll always be wishing for her. At least if she rejects you then you’ll feel better about your decision here.” She said. She had a point. That idea seemed interesting actually.
“You know.. I’ll do that. Do you have a paper?” You asked. She smiled pulling out some.
“How do you do it?” You asked curiously. Nilou looked up. At you. She was adjusting the straps on her legs when she seemed to get a idea. You met up with her early, maybe too early. There’s no one else in the Theatre here yet, and few people in the area altogether.
“Ooh do you want to learn to dance?” She asked.
“Well maybe not completely.. I’m just a little curious” your posture stiffened.
“Well I could show you.” She smiled, by now you knew she was eager to do so. “I sometimes give lessons to kids, so I assure you I’ll be a good teacher.” You sighed.
“Alright.” You said. Steeping out onto the empty stage. All props were in storage currently. There was minimal people out now, they were more focused on setting their stalls up. You took a deep breath getting closer.
“Alright, lets start with some stretching exercises.” She said. “First lets touch our toes, you don’t have to reach it, just bend down and do your best.” Her voice was encouraging, you felt a little embarrassed in this position, but she was doing it with you, so you felt less silly. It felt strenuous but nice to stretch our your hamstrings. “Then you’re going to cross your arms like this.” She demonstrated by crossed her left arm across her body, pointed straight in the other way, her other harm pressed it closer to her chest. You followed, feeling the stretch, swapping hands as she did. “Alright lets start with something easy.”
Dancing with Nilou felt so natural. You watched her carefully and tried to mimic every step and even bend in her limbs, every turn and even her relaxed but neutral expression.
“You know, your friend isn’t too bad actually.” A sudden voice interrupted, causing you to seize up and almost fall if Nilou hadn’t caught your arm in time. It was just a friend of hers, the costumer for the theatre group.
“I know right. I feel like if we just changed their wardrobe they’d be perfect.” She smiled. You immediately stiffened.
“Eh its not worth it. I’m not that good too perform.” You immediately dismissed. They chuckled.
“Practice makes perfect. Enough time and you might become more admired than miss Nilou.” She teased. You felt a bit saddened.
“Oh well.. I don’t really have that time. I’m only on vacation after all.” You corrected. She seemed a bit embarrassed at that correction.
“Oh right, sorry I forgot. You just fit in so well I forgot you would be leaving soon.” She said. “Oh could you two help carry the costume rack up here? I can’t do it alone.”
“I’ll do it, you can keep practicing Nilou.” You said. Heading down the stairs to the costume rack. Nilou watched from afar. Her smile faded once your gaze was elsewhere.
“You’ve really gotten attached haven’t you?” The woman whispered to her. She nodded.
“I can’t help it. Keep it secret though, I don’t want to make them uncomfortable.” Nilou whispered. While you focused on steadying the rack with another member who came over.
“Tonight was our most successful performance yet!” The manager declared. The troupe applauded and cheered as they had stopped mid wrap up to enjoy the news. You meanwhile observed them, smiling as you were holding the ladder for someone currently. “This calls for celebration! Once we’re done here I’ll cover anyone’s tab at the tavern, just don’t go too crazy.” You felt intrigued. You hadn’t had any liquor or anything since your vacation started. Now might be a nice time to enjoy it. You also were curious to see what Nilou was like drunk.
“Sounds great!”
“Well lets get to work then!” Chatter began as people congratulated each other, Nilou mingling somewhere in the crowd while you helped the lady down.
“You’ve been a good help here. You should visit whenever you get the chance.” She smiled. “Of course if you ever want to retire from your current job then we’d be happy to welcome you aboard!” You were surprised at that. Slightly tempted to.
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” You said. After helping her package things up you walked over to Nilou who seemed ecstatic. She had a bunch of flowers in her hands. Bouquets from fans and friends likely.
“Thank you so much for your help. I really can’t thank you enough. You’re heading to the tavern right? Maybe we could go together I hear the foods great I’ll even pay for dinner as thabks-“ she cut herself off as she blushed embarrassed. “Ah sorry! I didn’t mean to say that all so fast. I’d just been rehearsing it in my head for so long.” She sheepishly admitted as she slowed her breath. You felt confused but intrigued.
“I wouldn’t mind that no. How soon will you be heading there?” You asked.
“Soon, i just gotta give these flowers to everyone. Oh heres yours! A gift of gratitude!” She smiled as you took the bouquet. This was the first bouquet you had gotten ever. Genuinely you had never received flowers beforehand. You paused admiring the flowers as she anxiously analyzed your expression. You were lost in thought as you felt your heart swell even more than possible. You never felt this appreciated, this welcomed and this loved. You couldn’t stop the big smile on your face.
“Thank you.. so much Nilou. I-i really an glad I came here.” You stammered. Your reaction calmed her slightly.
“Your welcome. Oh I really should give the others their flowers, then we can head out!” She excitedly said, dashing off. You heard a chuckle from behind. You turned to see the costumer.
“You know, she doesn’t do this normally right?” She asked.
“She doesn’t?” You asked confused. She nodded in confirmation. “Then why would she?”
“Well she probably wanted a excuse to give you a bouquet. But you didn’t hear that from me.” She smiled cheekily as she walked away. You watched Nilou handing out the bouquets, the reactions were indeed a mix of surprise but confusion. This was indeed out of the normal. The idea that she went this far to give you this made you blush. You wished you had your mask on now to hide it.
That night at the tavern had been eventful. You had struggled to hear Nilou properly as she had a softer voice.
“This place is really noisy huh?” She said nervously.
“Do you not come here often?” You asked. “Taverns are always noisy at nights like this.”
“I figured. I guess you’re used to this kind of environment.” She played with her hair, you wondered if she was blushing or if it was just the early signs of drunkenness coming in.
“Definitely. Hopefully a fight doesn’t break out. That’s when things really get loud.” You commented. Another round of wine was passed to your table, the other adults chatting amongst themselves. You noticed none of them tried to chat with Nilou, you wondered if for a second they’d plan that so she could spend time with you. You also noticed nilou tried to mimic your pace at drinking. You really enjoyed the cocktail you had ordered. The sweetness of sunsettias and bitterness of wine was addictive. You felt more at ease. “You know this one time, this couple of eremite dudes got in a huge fight. Well we thought they were fighting, turns out it was a really weird make out session. I guess they were so drunk they forgot about basic decency. Anyways found out later that the other proposed that night. Think they’re still together.” Nilou seemed interested in that story, or she was just staring at your face.
“That’s wild. Do eremites fight alot when drunk?” She asked, her voice a little slurred. You smiled, the tensuon in your body had faded at this point.
“Certainly. We fight for fun sometimes when sober, but that’s like coordinated and not as extreme. You know it has rules like no making the other bleed and no weapons and such. Its just to help the two get stronger. But when they’re drunk its a problem. Friendly spars turn into vicious fights. Its not uncommon for eremites to get banned actually. We have to limit ourselves usually or the bartender may have us kicked out at the first sign of rowdy behavior.” You giggled.
“Wow. I rarely see fights here. Sometimes you see students getting into quarrels but that’s hardly entertaining.”
“Figured, its just a bunch of nerds arguing over formulas I bet.” You chuckled, she laughed along.
“Probably. Have you ever been hit on at a tavern before?” She asked. Even in your relaxed, not too drunk but still inebriated state did you feel surprised.
“Eh not much.” You shrugged. She seemed surprised.
“Really?! But you’re so pretty!” She said, her hands suddenly reaching out to hold your face. You felt your heart jump as she looked right into your eyes. You had never been called pretty before. “Or handsome..or beautiful.. you’re just attractive is what i mean! Like your eyes are so striking, it feels like a crime that you wear a mask to hide them!” She was definitely drunk now. But you knew drunk people were reflections of people’s true feelings and thoughts. That fact only made you even more flushed.
“Y-you think so? No one has ever called me that.” You responded, still not pushing her off of you. You wouldn’t let her go further than that. You weren’t a one night stand kind of person.
“Really? What is wrong with the people you’ve met!” She giggled, moving her hands she scooted closer to you and laid her head on your shoulder. “You’re perfect to me.”
“You think so?” You asked. If you were a dog your tail would be wagging, like a feral wolf that just learned how wonderful it felt to be petted and praised. Its like she was domesticating you, if you were sober you would fear getting too used to her sweet and affectionate personality, but you hardly could even remember what number your refill was at.
“I know so. You have such big muscles! Such a gentle temperament and not to mention how patient and hardworking you are.” She giggled. “Its not just the wine talking too, though I’m sure if it could talk it would agree with me.” You laughed at that joke.
The night had continued with laughter and random face touches and muscles squeezing from Nilou, your hands kept to yourself until you had to walk her home.
“You know the way back to your house right?” You asked, your hand supporting her by her waist as her hand was slung over your shoulders. You noticed a sudden boost of confidence in her eyes.
“Can I sleep at your place? I don’t want you to have to walk home alone afterwards.” She said. “Since you’re drunk too.. i don’t want anyone takin ‘vantage of you.”
“I only have one bed though.” You didn’t really mind, you were just nervous about things progressing from there. You weren’t ready for that and nor did you want it to be while drunk.
“Its okay I’ll sleep on the floor or something.” She smiled. You obliged eventually.
The door swung open as you now carried her, she had been too drunk to make it up the stairs. Holding her bridal style, you carried her to the bed. She giggle while playing with your hair.
“Its sooo soft.. i can’t believe it! How do you keep it so silky and smooth!” She said.
“Just some good ol oils and brushing.” You laid her down, tucking her in as you collected a few pillows and started to make a makeshift bed on the floor, dragging out your sleeping bag from your job and laying it out. “Alright now get to sleep. I’m sure you’ll be plenty of busy tomorrow-WOAH!” You were yanked into bed by a surprising strength coming from the drunken Nilou. The bed was small so she practically climbed ontop of you, laying her head on your chest as she smiled.
“Night night.” And like that she was out. Your face was all red for sure. But you couldn’t help but enjoy it slightly. You weren’t sure why Nilou was so touchy and affectionate. Love seemed like the obvious but least likely in your mind. Deep down, drunk or not, you found it hard to believe someone could love you. But her hands around you, gradually shifting to spooning, her holding you… you let yourself enjoy it knowing it’d likely be the last time you would feel this way.
That night you slept better than any drunken sleeps before.
The night in the desert felt different now. You were on guard as you watched the horizon and distance carefully. Nothing but foxes looking for lizards too hunt. You remembered suddenly how it felt to be held, to be the little spoon. How it felt to be loved and to love. You doubted she’d ever write back. You doubted you could ever show your face now that the letter was sent. You felt your chest tighten. A undoubtable longing inside for her. Your heart called her name, your exposed and scarred skin longed to be held and touched by her, your ears craved to hear her voice, and your eyes wished to see her smile once more. You were in love, how horrible. The sand felt like shards of metal now, the once familiar terrain seemed so bland and empty. But there was comfort in it, the familiarity of it. You wondered how soon you could return to the Ribat, and if you could catch sight of her once more…
But that letter.. you knew in your heart if you she reciprocated then… then what? Would you give up your life you had lived all these years, that you had been so accustomed to and raised for, all for her? Would it be worth it in the end? Would it be a mistake or the best decision in your life?
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wannabespiderman · 2 months
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Starving.
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Thank you so much to everyone that was so nice to like and reblog my previous post <3 I really appreciate it and it gave me inspiration to write more! Fair warning that I wrote this while being a little tipsy so some typos may have occured.
Bucky Barnes x reader
Bucky completely forgot what it was like to be touched in a way that wasn't punishing. Well, until he met you.
.
.
.
Bucky Barnes was a conundrum. He was strong, stoic and had a head through the wall attitude. On the inside though…he was like a frail house of cards on a windy day. It was about a fifty-fifty chance if he turned cold or broke down. Well, actually, when he was out and about he would derealize and turn passive a hundred percent of the time. With you on the other hand, in the confinement of your own home, this massive, build man would turn into a weeping little boy. At first he didn’t know what to do with himself when his walls broke down in front of you. It was a feeling he wasn’t familiar with and the vulnerability made him feel small and weak, something he experienced regularly while he was still with hydra, something that he wasn’t allowed to show back then.
The same night he broke down in front of you for the first time you had your arms wrapped around him before his tears could even start to fall. Bucky’s mind went haywire the second your body touched his.
It was like he couldn’t comprehend how a touch could be this soft and warm, so void of anger or malicious intent.
It felt like it made him almost feel worse but at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to rip himself away from you.
And then he got hooked.
He was always flirty with you and heavy on the PDA, constantly having his hand on your waist or leg or hell, even on your ass while his face was buried in your hair. He could touch you easily, shower you in physical affection in front of anyone who was unfortunate enough to hang out with you two at the same time.
When you touched him, you had to be alone because that was the time his guard went down. Only you were allowed to hear him sniffle and whimper and see him curl into a ball on your bed while he let you run your fingers through his hair. Bucky never talked about why he cried so you could only speculate if someone said something triggering or if last night’s nightmares tortured him throughout the day but you didn’t ask him about it. All you knew was that he needed your touch and you were not only happy to give him that, you took this job very seriously.
You’d tenderly catch his tear drops with your thumb while he leaned into your touch like it was his oxygen and held him in your arms when he basically folded himself in half to fit into them. But it wasn’t only when he was sad or overwhelmed that he needed your touch, actually it was allowed any time of the day as long as you two were alone. He appreciated every small brush of your hand when you gestured too much with your hands or tried to push past him in the narrow hallway and almost every time a small sound would escape him. He was just…addicted as he’d call it. Addicted to your soft hands that fit the equally soft touch.
He'd say he’s addicted while you knew the truth. The poor man was touch starved and hell, if you weren’t gonna be the one who’d give him what he so terribly needed.
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hazbinwhoree · 1 month
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Hey! I was wondering if you could do Adam/Reader where its post-one night stand with a girl who comes to his shows? Like he hooked up with her a couple times and it meant nothing but its starting to mean something to him and he asks to hookup more just so they can hang out? Like he'll ask, she'll come over and he just wants to watch a movie lol. Tysmm
(Repost of my request from a couple days ago)
Hangout or Hookup?
“And what’s your name, babe?” Adam asked, leaning over the smaller angel in front of him. She was pretty, exactly Adam’s type, and didn’t give off the desperate energy that his groupies gave off.
“(Name).” Adam took (Name)’s hand and mockingly kissed it. “Beautiful name for a beautiful bitch.” (Name) raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Adam liked that.
She played hard to get but Adam knew he would take her home that night. She was dedicated, coming to all his shows. He always spotted her in the crowd.
Sure enough, his flirting and charisma had (Name) agreeing when Adam finally suggested they go back to his place.
Adam was pretty sure it was the best sex he’d had in his life. Shit was so good it made him want to cuddle after. But (Name) was already redressing, ready to head out the door. “You don’t have to rush out,” Adam told her. “It’s okay,” she replied. “I know how this works.”
And she was gone.
(Name) was supposed to be a one time treat for Adam. But she kept coming to all of his shows and Adam found himself seeking her out after each one, and inevitably, she was who he would take home every night.
They were just supposed to be fuck buddies, at least that’s what Adam told himself. But he soon found himself enjoying her company even more than he enjoyed the sex.
He could never get her to stay the night, she seemed convinced that the sex was purely physical and nothing else. It kind of bothered Adam, but he supposed he dug his own grave there with his reputation.
One night, after a show, Adam invited (Name) to his place as usual. Usually, as soon as they were in the door, Adam was on top of (Name), but tonight he just walked past her. Confused, (Name) followed him into his bedroom. Maybe he was mad at her?
“I was thinking,” Adam said as he began to shed his concert clothes. “We should watch a movie tonight.”
“Like, put a movie on while we fuck?” (Name) asked.
Adam rolled his eyes. “Shit, (Name), I just want to watch a fucking movie with you. Is that so crazy?”
(Name) shrugged. “Kind of.”
“Why?”
This was certainly not the direction (Name) had thought this night was going.
“Because… we’re fuck buddies? Fuck buddies don’t just hang out and watch movies.”
“Well maybe I don’t want to be just fuck buddies,” Adam said, throwing one of his t-shirts at her. “Get comfortable.”
Slightly apprehensive, (Name) stripped her concert attire and put on Adam’s shirt. She didn’t have pants, but his shirt was large enough that it didn’t matter. It fell down right above her knees. She climbed onto Adam’s bed where Adam was already sitting with the TV remote.
She’d never been in his bed doing anything but fucking before. It was kind of nice. But she wouldn’t allow herself to get too comfortable. She couldn’t. Adam wasn’t the kind of guy she trusted with her heart.
Adam picked a movie and got up to turn off the lights. He discarded the remote on the bedside table and climbed back onto his bed, leaning back against his pillows.
(Name) sat stiffly on the other side.
“Come here.”
(Name) turned to look at Adam, who had his arms open.
“What are you so scared of? Come here.”
(Name) was scared that the feelings for him she had bottled up would be let loose if they fucking cuddled. Still, she found she could never say no to Adam, and reluctantly scooted up the bed and into his arms.
She wanted nothing more than to cuddle into his side, but she remained frigid. Adam noticed.
“Would you relax?”
(Name) couldn’t, not internally at least. But she relaxed her body, letting herself melt into Adam’s side. Adam smiled, content. He wrapped a wing around her like a blanket and (Name)’s heart skipped a beat.
The movie played on, and as it did, (Name) grew more and more restless. About halfway through the movie, she snapped.
She pushed away from Adam like he’d burned her. “Okay, what the fuck?”
Adam blinked in surprise. “Sorry?”
“What’s your fucking game?” (Name) was fuming. “I understand inviting me back again after the first time we fucked, I understand being fuck buddies, but I don’t understand your motives behind…” she made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “This.”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I want to do more than fuck because I genuinely fucking like you?”
Tears welled in (Name)’s eyes. “Don’t. Don’t say things like that. It’s not like you’re going to get into a relationship with me. The great Adam could never settle with just one girl. What about your groupies?”
Adam was getting frustrated. “Did you know that I haven’t fucked another bitch since the very first time we fucked?”
The question hung heavy in the air.
Adam continued. “Because after we fucked that first time, the best sex I’ve ever had by the way, I kept coming back to you. Night after night. And the more we hooked up, the more I realised I didn’t want anyone else. I wanted more with you.”
The confession left (Name) stunned.
“But you’d always leave after we’d fuck, I could never get you to stay and cuddle or talk. I tried, damnit, I fucking did. You’re an impossible bitch, you know that?”
(Name) should be offended, but she was still hung up on the confession. “So what, you’re telling me that you want me to be your girlfriend or some shit?”
“I didn’t plan on asking you like this, but yes, fuck, I’d love to have you as my girl.”
“You’re not joking?”
Adam sighed. “Babe, I know what my reputation is, okay? But everyone seems to forget that I’ve been married twice and I was not the one to end either marriage. I might sleep around when I’m unattached but I’m perfectly capable of committing to the right person.”
(Name) sniffed, a tear running down her cheek.
“Oh don’t start crying, you pussy.”
(Name) laughed through her tears.
“So?” Adam asked.
“So?”
“Will you be my fucking girl?”
(Name) nodded and Adam grinned. “Great, now get your ass over here.” He opened his arms again and (Name) practically dove into them. Adam held her, wrapping his wings around her like extra security. “Girls are so dramatic,” he muttered into her hair.
“Shut up, fuck boy.”
“Slut.”
“Whore.”
Adam kissed her forehead.
“Your whore.”
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justsomerandomfanfic · 5 months
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Wrapping Paper - Mike Schmidt X Female Reader
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Title: Wrapping Paper
Mike Schmidt X Female Reader
Additional Characters: Abby
WC: 2,449
Warnings: The incident at Freddy's mentioned, post FNAF movie, pining, Mike's nervous, sort of idiots in love, teasing, flirting?, ~hand holding~, mini angst, and fluff
It was Abby's birthday, and Mike still didn't have a present for her. For weeks he had been looking around craft stores when he could before heading to work or after - having found a well-paying job that he hadn't been fired from yet. But even after weeks of searching, he still had nothing to give her. Mike had probably been to the craft stores more than a dozen times at this point, checking the clearance items for anything that he thought Abby would like. But, the clearance section was a small rack at the back of the shop that had half-empty boxes of crayons from unruly children taking them in the store, scribbled on notebooks, and so on. This was all he was able to afford too, he'd go to great lengths for Abby, but it saddened him that he couldn't even afford brand-new supplies like the sixty-four pack of crayons or a nice big notebook for drawing. 
Tapping absentmindedly on the wheel of his car, Mike drove home yet again empty-handed. Pulling up to his house, Mike let out a sigh as he leaned back against the seat of his car, shutting his eyes briefly before raising his arm and reading his watch. Getting out of the car, he grabbed his backpack and headed inside. Dropping his back off into his room, Mike went to the kitchen to start making dinner before Abby came home from school. But just as he was putting the spaghetti noodles in the pot of water, there was a knock at the door. 
Shutting off the stove, Mike brushed his hands on his jeans before making his way to the front door. Opening the door, he was pleasantly surprised to see you standing before him. You had a smile on your face, and you were holding a large box wrapped in colorful paper.
"Hello, Mike," You greeted him, tilting your head to the side slightly as your grin became more of a nervous one, "I hope I'm not too early," Shuffling the present under your arm, you pulled out the folded invitation from the front pocket of your jeans. The plain piece of printer paper doodled with little pictures of what you had assumed were you, Mike, and Abby, along with the date and time of Abby’s little birthday celebration. "It says three, but I thought that maybe you might need help setting things up?"
"Oh, yeah, yeah, sure," Mike stumbled out, moving to the side to let you in. Mike watched as you placed the present on the table, dropping your bag beside it. 
You had been Mike's neighbor for the past year, recently moving in only a couple of weeks after the incident over at Freddy's. He remembered the day he met you vividly, watching Abby ride her bike up and down the sidewalk as your car pulled into the previous vacant house beside his. Stepping out of your Jeep Grand Cherokee, he watched as you opened the back of the car to begin carrying boxes into your new home. Gaining the courage after watching you struggle to unlock the front door with two cardboard boxes in your arms, Mike rushed over. 
Fumbling with your keys as you tried to unlock the door, shuffling the boxes to rest on your arm and propped-up knee as strands of your hair fell in front of your face. The way you smiled at him, grateful as he took the two boxes out of your straining arms, helping you move the rest of your boxes and furniture in. Breathily, you thanked him, offering to bake him cookies or something for him and his sister, and from then on, you, Mike, and Abby would spend a lot of time together.
You'd come over for dinner sometimes, Abby adored you, always asking about you and drawing pictures of you with her and her brother. You do the very same, inviting the two to come over for lunch or dinner, or to play board games, or to watch movies. 
Mike couldn't help but be attracted to you, ever since he watched you pull into your driveway. He didn't say anything though, pushing those rapidly growing feelings to the back of his mind, in fear of ruining the amazing friendship that you and him shared. Sometimes Mike would have to stop himself from staring at you across the table during dinners. His heart would race when he saw you spending time with Abby - seeing both of your smiling faces always brought warmth to his chest, and his breath would hitch slightly at the sound of your laugh. But he deeply cared about the friendship between you two, and wouldn't ruin the good relationship by doing anything stupid. So he held his tongue. And for the most part, you did the same thing.
Turning around to face Mike, he swiftly snapped out of the daze he had been in, meeting your eyes as you smiled at him, "So, what can I help you with? Do you need help with decorations or maybe a cake?"
Scratching his cheek, Mike shrugged a shoulder, looking around the room, "Uh, I don't have any decorations. I was about to start making the spaghetti when you arrived." He spoke, watching as you simply nodded, making your way into his kitchen. "I- I totally forgot about the cake… I’ve been so busy…" He finished, a bit embarrassed at his realization.
Noticing the pot of lukewarm water and the opened box of spaghetti noodles, you hummed to yourself before looking through the cupboards. Mike followed, leaning against the entrance of the kitchen, watching as you pulled out a small bag of flour, sugar, and a small circular pan. "Well," You huffed, a bit out of breath as you pulled out a large plastic bowl from the lower cupboards. "At least you still have some of the ingredients from our last bake day." As you began to start making the homemade cake, you glanced over at Mike, whose gaze was staring down at the floor at his feet. "You alright, Mikey?" You asked, gaining his attention.
Looking up, he let out a deep sigh, shaking his head as he pushed off the wall, "I haven't been able to find Abby a present. I've been looking for weeks but I still can't find anything for her."
You paused, pouring some flour into the bowl, looking over at the man as he began to pace the room slightly, "You couldn't find anything?" You asked, raising your eyebrows as Mike nodded his head.
"Nothing! I checked two craft stores every day after work for like three weeks." He explained, rubbing his hand over his forehead, "But I can't seem to find anything that isn't damaged or just something I think she'll like." Stopping his pacing, Mike's shoulders dropped as he let out a sigh, "I really am trying my best, y'know. It's frustrating." He admitted, glancing over at you as you turned around to look at him.
"You are doing your best, Mike," You spoke softly, slowly stirring the flour and other dry ingredients together, "And you know that Abby knows that and that she loves you." Pausing you glanced at him with a small reassuring smile, "I don't think Abby will care if you gave her a present or not, just you spending time with her, celebrating her birthday, is enough for her."
Mike nodded and walked over to stand next to you, watching you as you began to crack the eggs into a separate bowl, "You're right..."
"As always," You sang, unable to stop the grin on your face. Mike looked down at you, softly smiling to himself as you began to hum some song you liked or probably had stuck in your head. Looking up at him, your grin softened as you noticed Mike already looking at you, making your cheeks burn as you quickly looked back down at the dismantled cake ingredients in front of you. "Want to help me maybe, Mr. Schmidt?" You asked, using the remaining courage you had left to give him one last glance.
Nodding, Mike smiled lightly and picked up a whisk, beginning to help you with the mixing. He felt his heart flutter, and his mind wondered, but it faded as he began to focus on the task at hand.
It didn't take long though before the cake was finished, baked, and topped with vanilla icing and colorful candles; unlit and ready for the birthday girl. You and Mike were finishing up the spaghetti, you were working on the sauce while Mike made the meatballs. You bit your lip as you chuckled, watching as Mike almost lost his grip on the spatula he was using to roll the cooking meatballs around in the pan. Looking over at you, Mike felt his stomach twist, seeing the amused smile on your face, "What?" He questioned, glancing from you to the pan and back.
Smiling to yourself, you shook your head, "Nothing. Just enjoying my time with you, is all," Pouring the pasta sauce into a pot and putting on the lid, you leaned against the countertop to look at Mike. 
Biting the skin on the inside of his cheek, Mike turned off the stove, meeting your gaze, "Look, Y/N..." He hesitated, swallowing hard as he looked away. He was quiet for a moment before sighing and taking a step closer to you. "Thank you... For coming here today." He mumbled, his voice soft and gentle. That's not what he was meaning to say, though he did really appreciate you helping him. 
"Mikey, you don't have to thank me," You reached over to place your hand on top of his, "I'd do anything for you and Abby." You replied quietly, giving his hands a soft squeeze.
Slowly, Mike flipped over his hand, now palm to palm, he intertwined his fingers with yours, bringing your hands to his lips so he could place a light kiss on top of yours before returning your hand to the counter as the front door opened and slammed shut. 
"Mike! I'm home!" Abby called out, dropping her backpack on the ground near the door, immediately spying the brightly-colored wrapped present on the table; a smile lit up on her face. Exiting the kitchen, a warm sensation flowed throughout Mike's body as you pulled your hand away from his, greeting the young girl whose smile widened at the sight of you, "Y/N!" She cheered, rushing into your arms.
Chuckling softly, you returned the hug, pulling away after a few seconds, "Hey, Abs," Pulling away from each other, crouched down as you held her by her upper arms, "Look at you... How old are you now? Twenty-Five?" You joked, making the girl laugh as she shook her head.
"No! I'm eleven!" She told you while laughing, making you nod your head and stand back up.
"Of course, how silly of me." Turning back around to Mike, you paused, seeing that he was still standing there, watching you interact with Abby; a fondness evident in his eyes. Looking back down at the girl, you smiled at her, "So, are you hungry? We made spaghetti." She nodded her head eagerly, sitting down at the table, her eyes staring at the present in the middle of the table; her eyes sparkling. You smiled, walking back into the kitchen where Mike was already plating Abby's food. Pulling out two extra plates, you began plating yours and Mike's, peeking over at Mike who seemed to be becoming more and more nervous as he spooned spaghetti on the plate. Bumping your hip with his, you caught his eye, "You'll be fine. I have a plan." You whispered with a small grin, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his stubbly cheek before bringing yours and Mike's plate to the table. Mike blinked, slowly walking over to the table, his cheeks tinged pink as he sat beside you.
Soon enough, the both of you were singing 'Happy Birthday' to Abby as Mike sat the cake down on the table in front of her. The candles, lit and aflame, flickered before being blown out, applause erupting from you and Mike as Abby made her wish after her birthday song. Chuckling softly to himself, Mike leaned forward on his forearms, "What did you wish for, Abs?"
Rolling her eyes, she shook her head, "I can't tell you, silly."
Shaking his head in amusement, "Alright then. Cake or presents?" He then asked as you readied the cake knife and three small plates for the cake. 
"Presents!" Abby declared, beaming as Mike let out a small huff, smiling as he turned to you; you could see the nervousness in his eyes as he looked over at you.
Picking up the present, Mike moved the cake out of the way as you placed the present in its place, "Here you go, Abs," You spoke, gesturing for her to go ahead and open her gift. Mike watched beside you as Abby ripped the colorful wrapping paper off the cardboard box, pulling off the tape with amazing speed. He felt tense, hoping that she wouldn't hate him for not getting her a gift. Before his mind could run off anymore, he felt your hand cover his and he lifted his gaze to meet yours. Smiling at him, you squeezed his hand which made Mike's breath hitch as he felt an odd feeling well up inside his chest. Taking a deep breath, he gave you a small smile before turning back to Abby who gasped in shock.
"Oh my gosh!" She exclaimed, peering inside the box at the many goodies that were found within, looking up at you, she gave you a huge smile, "Thank you, Y/N!"
Mirroring her smile, you waved a hand, "Don't forget your brother, he helped pick out a couple of the items," Mike turned to look at you in surprise, causing you to chuckle under your breath.
Abby got out of her seat, rushing around to hug her brother tightly, "Thank you, Mike!" She thanked him, grinning widely at him.
"Anything for you, Abs," He said, patting her on the back. He turned to you as Abby went back to sit back down, digging around in the box; pulling out craft supplies, stuffed animals, and candy. Mike couldn't help but look at you with an awestruck expression on his face; this girl was too good to be true. "Thank you, Y/N."
Resting your cheek in your hand, you gave him your stunning smile, "Don't mention it."
Shaking his head slightly, Mike looked back at Abby who was already drawing with her new multi-colored markers in her brand-new notebook. 
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sparkles-rule-4eva · 2 months
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I have a slightly angsty headcannon about Sonic.
I know he's not normally big on touch or physical affection, but based on two scenes, there seems to be an implication that he gets more clingy/keen on touch when he's in pain. 🥲
The first example is in Sonic Frontiers. Tails knows Sonic better than anyone. When Sonic freed Tails from his cyber cage, and Tails saw him on his knees and coughing, what did he IMMEDIATELY try to do?
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Run and hug him. 🥹💔
As if there were previous times when Sonic was suffering with one thing or another, and Tails's hugging him helped him feel a little better. 🥹 Of course, Sonic then tried to brush it off and hide it from Tails, but Tails's initial reaction still says something to me.
The second example is in the last episode of Sonic Prime. The set of scenes between the energy extraction and returning home is probably the most vulnerable I've ever seen Sonic act around his friends, and the most he's had to rely on them (which really says something about how bad he must've been feeling 💔). Besides a couple scenes when he was more or less standing on his own, he spent almost the whole time leaning on one of his friends. He was practically clinging to Knux at the start of it.
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There were low-key moments like this later on with Thorn holding his hand and Shadow carrying him, but this moment stuck out the most to me in context of this headcannon.
It's ... both sad and sweet. I'm just glad Sonic's friends are there for him when he needs them. 💙
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samodivaa · 6 months
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Training Techniques
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Winter Soldier x Reader He is not allowed to move an inch—he can only watch you pleasure yourself—but why is there a ring on your finger?
Warnings - smut, light angst, mastrubation(f), rough sex, choking, breeding kink Words - 2600 ⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ You have absolutely no pleasure in the work in which you sometimes so madly indulge—training the assets with delicacy of words with which their handlers don’t approve of—Soldat is your favorite, with his expression of endless and unconditional gratitude and a silent promise of complicity unto death—he may not remember your face, but he always remembers your voice, its' gentleness. The soporific air of your room, in the soft breath of bread and sweets—he was sent there, because he was misbehaving again.
It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that you have periled this life and reputation—but here you are—on your bed trying to sleep when you see him sitting on the chair, waiting. And this isn't a romance. You're not a damsel in distress and he is not the handsome prince who comes to save you—this is his desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of the impending doom, but they didn’t know that.
You know.
He can't stop looking at you—Soldat is gazing at a distant star. It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago, because he is not allowed to move until you instruct him to.
Subconsciously, he licks his lips at the sight at your body in a night dress and wonder if he will ever just cum in your mouth as you suck him off to your knees…or if he’ll take you by the hair before he’s finished and fuck you into a sobbing heap before blowing his load. It doesn’t seem worth the risk —but he wanted this for so long now, he needs to voice it.
“Please-” —an irrational and indulgent mistake. you stand up on your elbows in shock at the word he utters—his eyes drift leisurely back up to your face and his lips twitch. Soldat has fallen into a state of feverish lust, but that is not a justification for his disobedience. His heart goes into a shameless delirium when your eyes meet. “Desperate?” you mock, but underneath the mockery Soldat finds a reservoir of understanding. You lay back on the bed as nothing has happened, and your voice takes on a restful strength “I still need to punish you for that, Winter” He behaves as naturally, with such discretion, that he does not lose his composure, not even when you remove your wedding ring—who committed the impertinence of marrying you? He goes through a crisis of disappointment, fury, jealousy, but this is your way of giving Soldat a layer of respect—he wants to call it loyalty. And maybe you can be his or maybe you will be entwined in this sexless foreplay tonight.
He wants to ask so many questions, but he can’t. Not now. There is a pent-up curiosity, hysteria of his unsatisfied needs, unnaturally suppressed communion and also a kind of tense respect, because if he is obedient enough—he will be rewarded.
“You will watch me, that's all you will do for now” you say, your voice has sunk to a whisper. Your words stoke a warmness in his stomach, a fire in his crotch. And he doesn’t care what you will do with him—even if you want to cut him, sharpen him however you please—that's all he knows anyways. He wants this memory to stay what it is, one intense moment, something that is strong and sweet enough to stand on its own. Your room has turned into an idyllic paradise for a good many years, your skin glistening in the light coming from the slits in the blinds as your hands play with your breast through the nightgown. He has lost his voice and a thread of cold sweat runs down the path of his spine, suffocating with heat, because of the black leather clothes—the stiff collar and the tight harness that is restricting his breathing, is becoming increasingly annoying.
His eyes are growing moist with indignation, with angry impotence, and for the first time, he is barely controlling himself. It is the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning—he needs to be patient, but it’s hard—not harder than his cock—It's more erotic, more intense to watch you touch yourself. He is master of what he does, but never of what he desires. You are greatly overestimating his self-control. But this is what you are testing tonight—his ability to subordinate the impulse to fuck you. Self-control might be as passionate and as active as the surrender to passion, but you need to show him who is in charge while your panties are becoming steadily slicker. All you need to do is to tell him to come, but you refrain from doing the thing you want so badly—to be consumed by Winter. You glance up to find his eyes blazing with raw need—blue orbits pleading for you to command him. You spread your legs open, positioning yourself in front of him—one hand still toying with your nipple while the fingers of the other hook in your panties and drag them down your legs slowly before throwing them in his direction. His breath stutters as they land on his left boot and Soldat eyes them wickedly, knowing that all he can do is watch. 
"Good, very good, Soldat '' you coo, sliding two fingers into your core, scissoring and stretching, curling over the one sweet spot—imagining his metal digits. You remove them as your index finger takes their place, rubbing slow, torturous circles on your clit, sliding down to tease your opening, then back up. Over and over again.
He slides his tongue across his teeth, remembering the taste of your nectar, becoming more and more aroused with every beat of his heart that runs down his shaft.
“I want you so much, gosh” he is stirred by the lust in your smooth voice. You are breathing deep with your mouth wide open—he doesn’t blink, he doesn’t dare blink. Soldat can swear he feels the pressure of your palms on his cheeks—or is it a memory? Everything is a memory to him. “I want you here, fucking me” There is something raw and pleading in your voice that surpasses sexual desire, these fleeting moments of carnal craving.
With the auspicious attention of a strained killing machine, he examines your fingers, your shivering body and listens to your muffled moans meticulously. It is such a tumultuous and intemperate invasion to his mind—your scandalous behavior is pulling at every string of his nerves and self-control.
It is such a prolonged act, so meticulous, so rich in all aspects as you are giving yourself over to the deserved adoration of your own body and pleasure. It leaves Soldat breathless at the tremendous spectacle of your nudity and lack of shame as you bring yourself closer to the edge.
“Jesus-I am so close” You confess, surprised at how fast the arousal is budding. You arch your back and hips buckle like an electric current runs through your body, moaning, rubbing your clit faster, forcing yourself to let out a louder moan. The orgasm wrecks your body from head to toe and being watched by a ferocious male is exciting—all he needs is a feeling as primitive and as simple as that of love.
You see his eyes, still unblinking and you feel menaced by some invisible danger—you are keenly aware of every movement, every breath you take. Lust is a weed that grows in the vacant lots of an abandoned mind and the stacks of bad words that you have been forced to swallow, spills “Soldat, come here” you command, languid and serious.
You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you watch him between your spread legs, getting up and slowly coming towards the bed as his thick, black pants fall to the floor around his feet, the belt clattering noisily. Winter craws on top of you and he cannot articulate a word, capable only of an animal sound, a strangulated wheeze that shocks him deeply, enraging him, this sudden loss of the faculty of speech that feels somehow bestial and forgotten. He breathes, his chest rising and falling so close to yours.
“Kiss m-” you whisper the words, and before you even finish saying them, his mouth is on yours and you are melting under his lips, eyes flutter shut—and it is blissful oblivion—giving you the most intense and explosive kiss you two have ever shared. With the coldness of his lips and the warmth of his tongue beneath yours, you vow an endless bliss. He pulls back with a groan—Winter’s sky-blue eyes stare back into yours, and in his eyes you can see no parting from you. You put your hands on either side of his face, and the room falls away. You have never gotten so lost in a kiss before. And the kiss is not gentle. It is a wrestle of who would lead the excursion into the territory of passion and ecstasy, heat and unending craving for one another. You suck on his lower lip between your teeth and he lets out a low groan. It sounds almost aggravated and definitely impatient. Fire looks into his quiet eyes, touches his dear, familiar face—you lean upwards for a moment and dip your head towards his ear, grazing his soft skin with your teeth, while your hand slides to the harness. Soldat stills, angling his mouth towards your bare, perfect neck. You feel a warm slickness on your skin, his tongue trailing a path towards your shoulder.
It is a wild, animalistic compulsion, an urgent need as he suddenly slots himself between your legs and you turn your head away. Your fear is returning, crawling through your limbs and leaving you numb to everything. You shut your eyes, gripping the sheets, and whimper when he pushes himself inside you. He releases a ragged breath before moving, slow but with purpose, and you simply take it with soft whimpers and gasps as he pumps in and out of you, now starting to set a steady pace. His eyes, the blue completely gone from his them, soften for a moment and he kisses you tenderly before he whispers in your ear, his breath puffs against your skin. He spends a good amount of time on your neck, a brief stop at the base of your throat—he wants to bite you, but he can’t—something melts inside Soldat that hurts in an exquisite way—you are not his. “Who did you marry, Snow White?” He asks, voice throbbing with menace—before slipping inside you again and burying himself to the hilt. Sex with you this time is different, he has never felt this dominant, this claiming. He is so far in that his balls are right against your lips. You arch your back and moan “It doesn’t matter” as he slides back out nearly all the way before slamming into you hard and fast. You wrap your legs around his waist as he slams into you over and over, the only sound in the room is the skin slapping. You close your eyes and swallow. Your mouth parts and stills—your voice is barely a whisper as his tip touches your cervix. “Pierce…I am closer to ruining his plans, closer to freeing you” Despite your eyelids being tightly shut, a single, hot tear runs out of your eye. You are so angry that it has escaped—so angry—he stops his trusts completely. You moan as you feel his movement out of you. Then, as he almost has the tip fully out, he slaps it back in. When your eyes meet his gaze as you are sitting here staring at each other, time stops. Your fingertips reach to trace the metal shoulder, but he grasps your hand with his own. He leans down, far enough that the ends of his hair brush feather-light against your face, catching in your lashes and tears.
His breath, warm and measured, hits your cheek. Two breaths. Three. Then you stop breathing, and a second later, you feel his lips on your mouth. It is hungry, desperate. His metal hand wraps around your neck, thumb presses into the skin—you moan, it ripples over your nerve endings. His breath caresses your ear again—his grip on your neck tightens. And this makes you always still and submit…the act of Winter taking shameful, contemptuous possession of you is the kind of rapture you want.
“Next time-” you try, but with your restricted of oxygen brain, you are not able to. He tastes passion. He tastes lust. He tastes his power over you. He tastes a world of stimulants he’d never imagined. You are right there in front of him, he can do whatever he wants. Winter loosens his hold—only to observe you as you breathe raggedly, sliding down slowly, a moan ripping from your throat. 
“Next time he calls you in his house, I will be there, too”
I have nothing to give but my heart so full and these empty hands.
“I need to kill them one by one, Winter” His mouth curves into a smile—his eyes are light blue and dancing with life. He pauses for only a fraction of a second. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to yours "Okay, yeah, yeah" a devil-soft whisper. He blinks several times like he is trying to comprehend your plan word by word. His trusts become so hormonal—you want his roughness. His other hand slips to your waist, pushing you into the mattress as he fucks you. For him, sex intimately relates to the most primitive kind of human contact, which can satisfy all of his needs he has been deprived from. "Winter " you gaspe breathlessly "Slow down" You try to let out a choked squeal, but his metal hand tightens around your neck again, muffling any sounds, your toes curling as he brings you steadily closer and closer to orgasm, reeling from the thrill and the fear from both his forceful thrusts of his powerful hips and the choking. Soldat is unrelenting in his domination of your body. But you are his at this moment, your cunt clenching around him while you mewls and grunts fill his ears, he can’t slow down even one bit. Logic would say that this is insane, every other fibre of his being says it's right—he has to fill you up. You can't move. You can't breathe. And his pace. And the adrenaline. “I will cum inside—dear Snow White” This is his demarcation line, all of a sudden it seems unfair to withhold it from you. Your inner muscles tighten as waves of pleasure start to build and ripple out. You don’t normally get off this fast, but you are lost in the exquisite sensations—you put your hands on his metal arm as your body bursts into flames, your fingers curling into the metal. You can’t make a sound and it is a shame, because it is the best orgasm you ever had. It is unbearable, unreal, unimaginable—it is too much as your eyes can only see darkness due to the choking. You can only hear a broken and hoarse cry escaping his lips, his warm come filling you up completely.
You can hear his breath, as your vision slowly becomes solid—a stray lock of dark hair falls into his eyes as he is looking down—he moves his hips back and then into you again, enjoying his cock being in a tub of cum, swimming in your honey.
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bluebellowl · 3 months
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We role-played Emmet’s and Aiden’s first meeting and I wanted to draw Emmet‘s rollercoaster of displayed emotions.
The dialog is missing Aiden‘s part. Sorry about that @toriblayde, i promise we‘ll get more Aiden representation in here.
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Number Neighbors Pt.27
Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader
Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist
Word Count: 1.2k
Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?
----
Nat’s been more than exhausted these past few weeks as she drafts up argument after argument that she can use against the government to justify why she and her fellow Avengers shouldn't be put on a leash. She knows it’s a long shot and she doesn’t have enough witness accounts or evidence yet but she’s been hearing about the crime rate spike through the rumor mill and she hopes that soon enough she’ll have enough to come back.
She can bring her family back and finally have you. If you’ll still have her after all of this is over. She knows you’d have every right to be mad but she hopes you’ll understand enough to at least let her take you on one date.
The rain pelts outside of her window as it has been for the last three days and she sighs as she lies back on her pull-out bed. If it were under different circumstances she might’ve been able to appreciate the break from the city and the pressure. Maybe she could even come back to these woods with Clint, or Wanda, or…You.
She’s working hard to make sure her family is safe, yes, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t working this hard to also see you again. To finally know what it feels like to hold you, to run her fingers through your hair, and hear you laugh again. The thought of you has been the only thing that’s brought her comfort these past few weeks.
Her computer dings with an email and she shoots up immediately, grabbing the shiny object from the side table next to her and pulling it onto her lap. She wasn’t expecting any emails while she was out here and her mind jumped to the worst-case scenario: they’d found her location.
The email is from an unknown sender which only makes her more uneasy and she’s more frustrated than anything that she’ll have to find a new place to hide when she recognizes the encrypted link hidden in the email's coding.
It was a website Clint had created just for the two of them to communicate in case there was ever a situation similar to this. She’s afraid to admit just how comforting it was to hear from someone close to her after weeks of no contact. She quickly opens the website and reads the messages.
Clint-
Hey Natty, hope you’re having fun wherever you’ve parked that trailer of yours, Tony’s been a real pain in the butt but we’re trying to negotiate some better terms with some government officials. I know you’re probably working on a solution of your own but I’ve got to at least pretend like I contribute to this group-
She snorts at the self-jab, knowing her fellow Avenger couldn’t care less about the insults people say about him being the least skilled Avenger. She always admired that about him.
Clint-
Anyway, your phone’s been blowing up. I think Tony is getting suspicious so I took it and hid it in my room. I think you’re gonna be in deep shit with your girlfriend when you get back haha. 
I attached the voicemails you’ve been getting, I didn’t listen to them but I saw who they were from. Thought they might be important.  
Nat’s heart pounded as she stared at the attached files, there were at least 30 voicemails from you varying in different lengths and part of her was scared to open them. There was no doubt a few of them were just you yelling at her but even then she’d missed the sound of your voice so much that she’d take your irritation over anything else.
She hesitates over the first voicemail with her cursor but clicks it before she can sike herself out. There’s a little bit of silence and she wonders if you’re going to talk before she hears a small sniffle and her heart breaks. She swore to herself she’d never make you cry and now she’d failed, the sound of your quiet crying echoing throughout her trailer only amplifying her defeat.
It's another thirty seconds before your voice finally breaks through. It’s rough and raw and she can tell you’d probably been crying for a while.
“Nat? Where did you go? Why’d you leave? Listen- we don’t have to meet if you don’t want to. We can keep texting forever just don’t ghost me like this. Please.” It’s short and by how broken your last word sounded she can tell you were probably thrown into another fit of sobs after you ended the message. 
Nat doesn’t know what to do with herself, her body feels frozen and her heart won’t stop sinking further into her stomach. She’s never heard you sound so unsure of yourself before and it tears her apart that she’s the one who made you that way. It takes her a few minutes to muster up the courage to click on another one.
“What kind of person just says ‘I’m sorry?’ I deserve a better explanation than that! You couldn’t have at least lied to me about going to save baby animals in Africa where there’s no cell service? At least then when you stopped responding I could’ve felt better!” She’s not surprised that you’re mad at her, you deserve to be, but it doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at her chest when she hears how irked you are.
The next few are similar in the fact that they’re either angry or spoken through tears but they slowly begin transitioning into something else. Eventually, you stop talking about her leaving and start talking about yourself. What you did that day, what you’re making for dinner, the cat you’ve been visiting at the cat cafe. There’s still a hint of sadness in your tone but she can tell the calls are a form of therapy for you. A way for Nat to be there when she’s not really there.
She wants to be there. She wants to be the one you’re talking about your day with, wants to cook you dinner while you sit on the counter and visit the cat cafe with you. It hurts that she can’t do that and as she’s listening she feels her eyes burn with tears. She refuses to let them fall. She’s not the one who gets to cry in this scenario and yet her eyes refuse to give up their unshed tears.
There’s one last voicemail from a day ago and she clicks on it expecting it to be like the others but much to her surprise you’re talking about her again.
“I think I’m mad because I can’t even bring myself to hate you for it. I know you’ve probably got some shit going on. I understand that, trust me. But- I don't know you could’ve… maybe it’s too much of me to ask you to fill me in on the situation- or let me know when you’d be back… Is this goodbye?” 
 Your static voice rings out into the silence and Nat hates how you sound. Reserved- almost accepting. Like you’ve convinced yourself she’s never going to respond again and she hates it. She hates that she made you so insecure that you think she isn't spending every hour thinking of you and how to get back to you. 
The sound of your voice fills her with even more determination as she begins redrafting her court argument. She was going to come back to you, you just had to wait for her a little longer.
Pt.28
A/n: Aww Nat :( ~ Starry
---Taglist--
@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723 @sylencr @saraaahsstuff @autorasexy @gay4hotmilfs @tofu9162 @dyslexic-dreamer @graniairish @colettehope @kosmichs1 @nmhlver @natblidaclexa @skittlebum @dorabledewdroop @nothanksbye07 @mrsrushman @midastouch013 @thalia-is-not-ok @tessalah @annab3113 @officialnighttime
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theflowerrooms · 8 months
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to request • Eddie’s masterlist • main masterlist
Lingering Discomfort
Eddie Munson x fem!reader
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Summary; usually you and your boyfriend Eddie are all over eachother, but after an awful experience with a stranger, you can’t handle anyone’s hands on you
wordcount: 1.7k
Warnings: descriptions of sexual assault and lingering affects of it, light angst, Eddie’s so sweet and lovely
another request from the lovely @tracymbcm, thank you so much for requesting <3
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It was yesterday, when you were at the bookstore, standing in between the fantasy and horror isles at the bookstore when someone tapped on your back, between your shoulder blades. It was a man, significantly older than you but not elderly by any means, he was incredibly average looking man, apart from the scary grin he wore on his face, and his beady eyes that stared at your chest rather than your face.
  "Don't see many pretty young girls listening to Metallica." He smirked at the band tee you wore and your heart raced with anxiety. You wondered if he could tell the shirt was too big for you, if he could tell it was a man's shirt- Eddie's. "What's your favourite song by them honey?" He asked and the petname made you feel sick.
"Um-" "Um!" He cut you off mocking you and you pouted, backing up, wiping your sweaty palms on the sides of your skirt.
  "I don't- I don't listen to them. My boyfriend, he loves 'em." You didn't talk more than that and you almost flinched at the very unsubtle way the corner of his lip rose in irritation.
  "That right? How old is he?" He asked, a step closer to you as you took one back. Your eyes watered as you realized any further back and you'd just be trapped against the bookcase.
  "He's twenty." You hoped he didn't see your lip tremble, you hoped he couldn't hear your heart beating so fast.
  "Twenty? See young guys- little boys like that don't know how to treat their girls." That's all that was said before the situation escalated and ended with you running out of the store crying. He didn't do anything more than grab your ass, but it was revolting.
  You took deep breaths before you pulled out of the parking lot. Your first instinct was to drive to Eddie's house, cry into his chest and complain about the creep in the bookstore. You could see him in your head, hugging you, rocking you as he kissed the crown of your head. You didn't understand why the thought of that made you uncomfortable, you just didn't want to be touched again. What you needed was a shower, and then bed.
✽-
  The next morning, Eddie picked you up as usual, he did every morning. Usually you loved it, getting to spend time with him before you started your day, and it got him to school on time, not wanting to make you late. Today you'd rather walk, every car ride Eddie would stroke your thigh, kiss you at every stop sign, squeeze in a quick make out session before you left the car.
  You avoided all that. Grabbing his freehand and holding it so it wouldn't venture to your legs, fake yawning and leaning your head against the window with your eyes closed, too tired to kiss. You left his van before he got the chance to try and make out with you.
  He did call you pretty, and cute in the span of three minutes, which brought a smile to your face, especially since you didn't feel pretty or cute, wearing a loose fitting t-shirt and grey sweatpants instead of the skirt and tighter top you normally would've worn, too uncomfortable to wear anything very revealing.
  He walked with you into the school, slightly behind you like he usually did and you distanced yourself just slightly, so his hand wouldn't find the small of your back.
  You chewed your lip as you turned around to face him. "'M gonna go talk to Robin before class." You smile softly, albeit anxiously at him, but he didn't read into it too much thankfully.
  "Alright baby, tell her I said hey." He grinned and you nodded, guilty you hadn't been giving him the same attention and intimacy you normally would. He leaned forward to kiss you and you turned your head, he was fine with just kissing your cheek. "You okay baby?" He asked, glassy brown eyes searching your own. You told him you were, and you both knew you were lying, but he didn't press it.
  You swallowed thickly as you turned from him, wiping the invisible kiss off of your face when you knew he couldn't see you, walking on shaky legs until you found Robin.
  "What the hell is wrong with you?" She asked, and you sighed, shrugging even though you knew. Her eyes burned into yours until you leaned against the lockers with a pout. Finally you told her what happened.
  She scoffed. "Men. So many of them are fucking creeps, I thank the gods every day for the fact that I swing the other way." She rolled her eyes with a grimace on her face that matched the one that was starting to grow on your own. "Was Eddie with you?" She asked and you shook your head. "That's- well maybe that's a good thing. He would've totally lost his shit." She laughed.
  That last sentence stuck with you. Why would Eddie be mad? It wasn't your fault. But then maybe it was, you could've moved away sooner, told him to stop, you could have just not interacted with him in the first place and moved on. And now Eddie would be mad at you.
✽-
  It stuck in your head until lunch. And when it was lunch, you felt anxious again. You felt so guilty, especially seeing Eddie smile so big the second he saw you. When you reached the hellfire table, you pulled your usual seat a few inches away from him, so you wouldn't be pressed flush against him like usual.
  You sat and he wrapped his arm around you like usual, so you leaned forward letting his arm rest on the back of your chair, that was fine.
  Things were okay for the next ten minutes. You got less anxious, joining in on the conversation, things seemed normal again, despite the lack of Eddie's tongue down your throat which was common for every other lunch period.
  Suddenly that normalcy ended. "You're too far baby." Eddie tsked, easily picking you up and putting you in his lap, arm over your lap and gripping the underside of your thigh, the same place that old man's hand was less than a day ago.
  You leaped up without thinking, heart racing, all the eyes of hellfire on you. "Stop! Stop- just don't- don't want you touching me." Your voice shook, and tears welled in your eyes when Eddie's smile fell completely. You mistook the concern on his face for anger and you bolted, you didn't go far, only to the library, you'd favourite place in Hawkin's High, save for Eddie's arms.
  You sat in the back on a soft chair, you weren't there long before Eddie found you. He kneeled in front of you, making himself look small as he peered up at your teary eyes. He placed his hand on the arm of the chair, not on your skin.
  "I talked to Robin baby, do y'wanna talk about what's bothering you?" His eyes didn't look angry like you thought they would, only sweet and inviting. His lips turned to match the pout on your face, he always did it and it made you giggle, you felt your lips twitch with the beginning of a smile. It was hard to stay upset around Eddie.
  "Are you mad?" You asked and his eyes immediately widened, curls swaying with his head as he shook it.
  "Of course not sweet girl, I could never be mad at you baby. Especially not for something that wasn't your fault." He assured you. Immediately the guilt in your chest floated away. "Do you wanna talk to me about it baby?" He tilted his head and you nodded.
  "Yesterday, at the bookstore there was this older guy." Your lip trembled. "He was askin' about my shirt 'n he called me pretty. Then he started asking about you when I told him I have a boyfriend. He said twenty year olds dunno how to please girls, and he- and he touched me." You brought your knees to your chest as the tears on your waterline started to drip over your cheeks.
  Eddie's jaw tensed. "Where did he touch you?" It was tearing him apart to not be able to hold you right now, wipe away your tears. But he understood there was a new boundary as a result of what happened, and he'd respect that, keep his hands to himself until he knew it was okay to touch you again.
  "He rubbed my leg- 'n he grabbed my butt." You whispered, he didn't look angry, upset yes, worried, absolutely, but he wasn't mad. "I told Robin about it 'n she said if you were there you would've lost your shit." You kept your voice down and he shook his head quickly again.
  "No- no baby, well, yes. But I wouldn't have been mad at you at all, just at that guy. It's not okay for him to go around touching girls, 'specially my girl. But that's not your fault baby, you didn't do anything wrong. I promise you did good, and I'm not mad at you at all." He promised and you sniffled.
  There was a beat of silence before you threw yourself from the chair onto your knees, burying your face in his chest. His arms immediately squeezed you close to him, brushing your tears away gently.
  "How about we skip the rest of our classes today, head to that bookstore, 'n I'll buy you whatever book you didn't get to buy yesterday. And if that guy's there, you point him out and he and I can have a little talk, I'll make sure he doesn't touch you, or anyone else like that again, hm?" His voice was soft, calm as he pet your hair and you nodded.
"I love you." "I love you"
  You didn't see that guy again when you went to the bookstore later on, Eddie's arm protectively hooked around you through each isle. He got you your book, and you even got to read the first couple of chapters to him in his arms that night.
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happy74827 · 5 months
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No Ordinary Life
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[Sam Riordan x Female!Reader]
Synopsis: The group had almost ran out of options on what to do with Sam, but Andre had decided there was still one more option to explore. And that option, was you. (GIF credits: @heronamedhawks)
WC: 1,179
Category: Slight Fluff, Slight Angst
We don’t know much about Sam as of right now, but I do know I would literally die for this boy. He and Emma really deserve the world, and they fr better have their happy ending (which seems impossible given the universe they live in, but one can hope). This definitely deserves a part 2, depending how well it goes, but for now enjoy the purity that is Sam.
Edit(2023): Hey I finally made the part 2, check it out here
『••✎••』
As Sam walked down the bustling halls of Godolkin, he couldn't help but feel like an outsider. All around him, kids with extraordinary powers, kids like him, were chatting, laughing, and walking to their classes. They were able to use their gifts freely and openly, and they were respected by others for it, but Sam didn't have that luxury. Honestly, he couldn’t remember a time that he did.
All he remembered was the woods, his brother, and the constant pain of being hunted.
His hand unconsciously traveled to top of his head, pulling the hoodie that Emma had lent over to him farther over his face as he tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn't easy when the hallway was completely crowded by nosy students, but he did his best. That’s all he could really do.
Emma and Marie (as he found her name to be) were by his side, protecting him for the skewing eyes of others. For the most part it worked, except it drawn more attention to her due to that odd system that Emma had acknowledged him about. A rating, whatever that was.
It was cool to know that his brother had been ranked number one, though.
If Luke was still… No, don’t think about it, Sam.
He shook his head, ridding himself of that train of thought. There was no point in dwelling on the past, and thinking about his brother wouldn’t change anything. He was gone, and Sam was left alone.
His thoughts were interrupted by Jordan, who he was still slightly confused about. He? She? They? They seemed to have been good friends with his brother and they were friendly enough, so Sam didn’t really question the matter too much.
Plus, he kinda enjoyed the subtle sarcasm that Jordan would once in a while use. It made him feel like a kid back in school. So for that, Sam was thankful.
“Dude, this has got to be the stupidest thing we’ve ever done,” Jordan had said, turning to the guy walking besides them… Andre. Sam didn’t know what to make of him, or anyone really. He had always been so closed off from other people, that now it was almost a bit overwhelming.
But at least he had Emma, so he didn't have to worry about the social aspect too much.
Andre gave Jordan a sideways look, a small smirk on his face. He seemed pretty chill too.
“Listen, I don’t like this anymore than you do, Jordan,” Andre stated, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But with everything happening, and with Cate… this is our best option.”
“Yes, let’s bring the kid with a bounty over his head into the place where they’re all going to be looking for him. Great idea, Andre. Seriously, how did I not think of it first. Soooo smart of you, dude. Good job. I'm so glad we're friends, really I am.”
Jordan rolled their eyes, and Andre just looked away in annoyance. Then, to Sam’s dismay, an awkward silence fell over the group. Once again, Sam was struck by just how different his life was now. It was like he was suddenly thrown into another world, and he had no idea how to function in it. He was so far out of his comfort zone that he couldn’t even see the zone.
Sam glanced over to Emma, and saw her smiling encouragingly at him. He tried his best to return the gesture, but he felt like his face muscles were going to fall off if he forced them any longer.
After what seemed like hours, but really only a couple minutes, Andre halted in front of a random dorm room door, and turned to face the group. He sighed, his face set into a look of grim determination. Then, he knocked.
Three times, Sam counted. Three knocks.
The door opened almost immediately after, and the man who answered had to be the most handsome human being Sam had ever seen. He had short black hair, a sharp jaw, and a dazzling smile. It was actually kind of intimidating.
“Whadda’ want?” the man asked, his voice a rich baritone. Sam didn't know why, but it felt like the man was judging him. His eyes scanned over the group, lingering on Sam for just a second, before returning back to Andre.
Andre cleared his throat, a bit nervously, but he didn’t get a chance to speak as Jordan scoffed, shoving past the man and into the room. Emma followed, giving the man an apologetic look as she did. And thus, everyone followed, leaving the man alone and bewildered in the doorway.
Once everyone was settled inside, the man shut the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. He glared at Andre, his eyes burning holes through his head, but Sam didn’t pay any attention towards him anymore. All his eyes were on the strange girl in front of him, you.
You were sitting on the floor, legs crossed and a bored expression on your face. Your eyes were half lidded, and you seemed to be lost in your own little world. Andre had mentioned you, a little. Said that you were the person he had called earlier, that you would help them figure out what to do with Sam, and that you knew and could a lot of stuff. But he had never told them how gorgeous you were.
Your hair was down, and looked so soft that Sam just wanted to touch it, run his fingers through it, and feel the texture. You had a cute little button nose, and a round, chubby face that was just too adorable. And your eyes were so expressive, a mixture of colors that swirled and shone and sparkled in the light.
Andre had called your attention and you snapped out of it, blinking a few times before glancing up at him. It was then that you noticed the others, and you stared at them all, wide eyed and open mouthed, but that was quickly replaced with a smile.
“Hi, Andre! Wow, you must be Jordan… Marie… and Emma? Right? Oh, and you must be the kid Andre talked about, oh my gosh. It's so nice to finally meet you all. Sorry I didn’t say anything when you came in, I was just finishing up this thing for Kota. Oh, Kota! You're still here… hi. Wait, why are you all here? You weren’t supposed to be here until 2:00, and it's only-”
You looked down at the watch on your wrist, your eyes widening even more when you realized the time. You had been talking so fast that no one had been able to get a word in edgewise, but you had managed to finish what you had to say, and it was all so rushed that it was hard to keep up.
The only thing Sam could focus on was how despite all of that rambling and mumbling, you were still keeping that bright smile that never seemed to falter. A truly happy supe? He never thought it would exist. Even Emma, as sweet and pretty as she was, tended to falsify the smiles she had. Sam only saw her real one about three times. He cherished them, of course. Every single one.
You stood up, brushing yourself off and fixing your clothes, and walked over to them. Your hand was outstretched, and your smile was radiant. Sam could practically feel the happiness radiating off of you.
You looked so innocent, so sweet and pure. He could hardly believe that you were a supe, but the fact that they were all standing here said otherwise. You had power, and you knew how to use it.
Jordan and Marie seemed to have recovered from their daze, and the two shook your hand after Andre. Marie had even introduced herself, and it ended with you in giggles, telling her that you already had known her name.
Emma was next, and she had taken your hand immediately and shook it.
Then it was just him that was left.
He stood frozen, staring down at your outstretched hand. He could feel all the eyes in the room on him, and he just knew that his hood was starting to slip.
His instincts were yelling at him, screaming at him to run. To get out of there and stay far, far away from you. From everyone.
But he couldn’t.
So, instead of fleeing, he slowly, cautiously took your hand in his. It was small, warm, and fit perfectly.
You smiled again but this time it was strictly for him, because of him, and it made his heart beat just a bit faster.
He didn’t even realize it until your smile has widened, but he had pulled down his hood, letting you see his face. He didn't understand why he did, and a part of him wanted to pull the fabric right back over his face, but it was too late now.
The damage had been done.
Sam didn’t have a chance to scrape off the dried blood off his cheeks, another result of an accidental outburst, and he could feel your eyes rake over his face, taking in every single detail.
But it wasn’t judgmental, or critical.
No, there was something else in those swirling eyes of yours, and it was then that he noticed the little flecks of gold hidden in the sea of color.
Sam was a bit embarrassed, to say the least, and he tried to pull his hand away but your grip only tightened, and he didn't have the strength to resist. He felt your hand go up his arm, unraveling the hoodie that clung to him like a second skin.
The others didn’t seem to do anything as you pulled the material above his elbow.
Your eyes roamed over the scar that stretched across his forearm, and he knew what was coming before the words even left your mouth.
Sam couldn’t bring himself to look at you as you asked the dreaded question, and his eyes were glued to the floor.
It was Emma who answered, her voice barely a whisper.
Sam despised the pity in your tone. The last thing he wanted was to be pitied. He didn't need or want anyone's pity. He was fine. Everything was fine.
The silence shattered as you took a sharp breath, but Sam couldn't bring himself to look at you. Not when he knew the look of pity in your eyes.
You released his arm, the hoodie dropping to the ground, but Sam didn't even register it. He stood there, frozen, as you slowly reached out your hand towards his face.
"Before I do anything, I want to warn you so it doesn't scare you. Is that okay with you? I just... I want to make sure you're alright. But if you don't want me to touch you, I won't. I'll respect your boundaries. Just tell me, okay?"
Sam blinked, his head tilting upwards, his eyes wide with surprise. There was no pity in your eyes. No negativity or degradation. Only a gentle concern and kindness that he had only experienced in these past few days.
Your touch was tender, and he felt a warmth spread across his face. He couldn't bring himself to deny you. So he nodded, and a small smile appeared on your face. It was still a smile, but a different kind. One he had never seen from you before. And once again, that smile was meant just for him.
Suddenly, the lights in the room dimmed, capturing Sam's attention. He hadn't noticed before, but the entire room was filled with interconnected lights, forming a grid-like pattern. They began to glow, pulsating and shifting with each passing moment. The light danced across the walls, creating mesmerizing shapes.
Sam was captivated by the whole process. And then, the lights suddenly stopped, freezing in place. Sam expected them to return to their normal brightness, but they grew brighter and brighter. It was then that he noticed your hands. They were no longer touching him, but rather, they hovered above him, palms facing his face. A peculiar expression settled on your face.
Sam didn't know what it meant, but he didn't have time to wonder because, in an instant, your hands transformed into light. It wasn't like beams shooting out of your palms, but rather, golden particles that flowed around your body and traveled along the lights, intensifying their brightness. Patterns began to form and move.
Sam watched in awe as the shapes transformed into pictures and scenes. The colors melted and shifted together. Light filled the room, washing away the world around him, leaving only the vibrant colors, the images, and your face.
Your face, so close to his. The smile still adorned your lips, and your eyes shone like stars, the brightest things in the room. Sam could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Reluctantly, he admitted that the light was beautiful, just like you.
It was the most extraordinary sight he had ever witnessed. It was as if the sun had exploded, its light spreading across the room. The colors danced along the walls, forming vivid images. Sam saw a field, a house, a family. He saw his old friends. He saw him. His brother, Luke.
Sam's face crumpled, and a sob escaped his throat. Tears blurred his vision, but they were absorbed by the light, vanishing as soon as they fell. You remained a silent observer, watching over him as the colors gradually faded, and the world returned.
The room was as bright as before, but everything was the same. Sam could still see the concern and worry etched on your face. You reached up to wipe away his tears, but this time he flinched back, and the contact never happened. Your hands fell to your sides.
Tears welled up in your eyes, and your lips trembled, trying to hold back your emotions. But a tear escaped, rolling down your cheek. Andre cleared his throat, breaking the spell. Both you and Sam turned to face the others.
They were all watching, expressions of shock and confusion on their faces, except for Jordan, who wore a mask of indifference.
Andre and Emma stared at you, mouths agape, while Sam saw the tears in your eyes, the fear evident on your face.
Of what, he couldn’t tell. As of right now, there were so many things you could be scared of. With The Woods, being the thing that contains most of it all, It was hard to pinpoint one specific reason.
Then, just like before, Andre's voice cracked as he decided to interrupt Sam’s thoughts.
"What the hell was that?"
706 notes · View notes
isolabellz · 1 year
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Winter 1998
3K notes · View notes
shewrites7 · 8 months
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The First Step
carmen berzatto x fem!reader
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summary - The first thing you do when you get back to your hometown of Chicago is pay Carmen, your oldest friend and maybe more than that, a visit at The Beef. When you land yourself a job there, the more he sees of you, the more he seems to push you away for reasons he isn't yet brave enough to tell you, even if all he wants is to be with you. But if he'd ever known you, he'd know that you weren't going to back down without a fight.
type - one shot (its a long one)
word count [16.6k]
tags: Carmy Berzatto x f!reader, friends to lovers, pining, slight miscommunication, a little angst, "stop pushing me away", hurt/comfort, and new promises.
warnings: swearing, mentions of grief/death, panic attack
a/n: check this out also on my ao3! <33
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Carmen was tired, to say the least. He'd been working himself to the bone every damn day for the past few months, trying to get The Beef to a good, stable place. Somehow, as time went by, he'd only managed to dig himself a deeper grave. With the money they owed to Cicero, he knew, deep down, that the restaurant was, for lack of a better word, fucked.
But he kept holding on. He couldn't let go of it. He'd wonder, in the depths of night, why he was fighting so hard for this place when he could easily sell it to Cicero. If, maybe, he was holding onto someone. He didn't amuse the thought. He physically couldn't.
So he threw himself deeper into his work. Deeper into making The Beef a reputable place, with a professional working staff and high-quality food. It didn't matter that the others looked at him like he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had. He didn't have the time to worry about that. He didn't have time for much of anything, which is why Sydney had been pushing for new hires. She'd said that they needed more hands in the kitchen, more workers up front, more of everything. They should be desperate.
That's why she'd spent hours putting up posters for new hires on what felt like practically every block of Chicago within a mile radius from the restaurant. And that's why you'd happened to stumble upon one of them while walking to a favorite pizza place of yours that you'd loved as a kid. It was one of the first things you'd planned on doing ever since you'd gotten back into the city. That and meeting up with some old friends who you'd missed with an ache in your chest. So, seeing the poster clinging to the utility pole saying that The Beef was hiring had your heart skip a little beat at the prospect of not only getting a job but seeing the people who had basically been your family growing up again.
It was a Friday morning when you'd stopped by The Beef, the rusted white sign sticking out like a sore thumb. A rush of aromas wafted against your nose when you walked in, and the front door made a jingling sound that was almost nostalgic.
No one was at the front register. In fact, you couldn't see anyone at all, only hear some muffled voices coming from the kitchen in the back. The voices grew louder as seconds went by, and you could tell they were shouts. The kitchen door then flew open, finally revealing the argument going on between two people, one being an unfamiliar woman in an apron, and the other being none other than Richie Jerimovich.
"Richie, I swear to God-"
"I already told you," came the booming voice of Richie, neither of them noticing your presence at the door. "Your foo foo plans for this place are not gonna fly, Sweetheart!"
With the way Richie was talking to her, you could see the woman's patience wearing thin as she rested a hand on her temple with shut eyes as he carried on. It was only when she reopened her eyes a few moments later that she noticed your presence.
"Hi," you said, making your way over to her. "I saw your poster, the one about looking for new hires-"
"Right, right." She offered a strained smile, stress seeming to stay with her. "I'm Sydney, you must be one of the job applicants?"
"Yeah, I'm-"
"A job applicant?" Richie's voice boomed through the room, his voice always projecting ten times louder than need be. You had to admit, you missed it. "F that bullshit, that's fucking Mars Bar!"
Sydney's eyebrows lowered at the shouted nickname, the one that the Berzattos had gifted you years ago after your favorite candy as a kid. You granted Richie a smile, him finally noticing you. "Nice to see you too, Richie."
He marched around the counter to engulf you in a bear-like hug that had you letting out a chuckled gasp from the impact, arms wrapping tightly around your back. He let go in a beat and slammed his hands down on the counter in excitement, always loud.
"Just wait till Carmy hears about his favorite girl being back, I swear to God."
Something fluttered through you at the mention of that name. Carmen's name. With a whirlwind of thoughts sifting through your mind, you almost missed the other name that Richie had called you, aside from Mars Bar. Carmy's favorite girl.
-----
Richie had barged into the kitchen with full vigor, slamming open the swinging door dangerously close to a nearby Tina.
"Cousin!" He moved through the different chefs' stations until he got to Carmen's, who was wrapped up in prepping and quite frankly had learned to tune out the sound of Richie's yelling for his own health. "Yo, Cousin!"
Richie boisterously grabbed a hold of Carmen's shoulders, rocking him a little and moving his hand that wielded a knife, cutting diagonally into beef he'd been pre-slicing.
"Shit," Carmen cursed, irritation forming. "What the hell is it, Cousin?"
Richie just laughed, a mind never paid to Carmen's annoyance. "Yea, you're pissed at me now, Carmy, but you're gonna think I'm pulling your dick when I tell you who's at the fucking register right now."
With a forever-present dull headache, Carmen sighed and shifted his focus to him, putting down his knife on the counter. He gestured a hand out to him. "Who's at the register, Rich-"
"The fucking love of your life, that's who!"
Richie gave Carmen a playful punch in the arm, but he remained unphased, a frown etched on his features. "See, what the fuck are you talking about? I don't have a love of my-"
"Two words, Cousin. Mars Bar."
Richie was right. Those two words really did do something to him.
"She- ... she's here?"
He rubbed his jaw, brain short-circuiting for a second as he tried to make sense of Richie's words. His eyes bore into Richie's never-serious ones, trying to grasp onto whether or not he was, just this one time. If he was messing with him, he didn't think he'd be able to take it.
"Yes, bro!" Yelled Richie, patting him on the back. "I swear to you. She's here, and hot as balls, too."
He squinted his eyes at him with a twinge of disgust, slightly shoving him to the side to get towards the door. He still didn't know if he believed it. You'd been traveling abroad on some grant that he, to be honest, didn't know much about. But you were doing great things. He couldn't guess why you'd come back to The Beef, of all places.
When he saw you through the window, he was lucky he was hidden behind the safety of the kitchen door because he couldn't control the way his body and mind froze at the sight of you. He took in the way your smile beamed out into the room as you spoke with Sydney, warm and unignorable, and he could've sworn something changed in the chemical makeup of his brain. Something that had his eyes widening and his feet planted in their place.
"What'd I tell you?" Richie's voice from behind him knocked him out of his trance. There was a smug, amused edge to his voice. "Now go and talk to her."
Carmen put a hand out, shooing him away. "I will. I just," he stopped, trailing off as he took in the way you truly seemed to glow after all the time spent away. He liked how it looked on you.
"Aww, don't tell me you're nervous now, Carm." Richie put his arms on Carmen's shoulders.
"Shut the fuck up." He shoved Richie off of him with a grimace, but his eyes never left you, jaw clenching as he followed your movements. "I'm not."
The pit in his stomach told him otherwise. He ignored the feeling, determined, and took in a breath before opening the kitchen door to the front of the restaurant, to where you stood.
At the sound of the door swinging open you finally turned your attention to him, lips coming to part with a subtle inhale that somehow left you feeling breathless.
"Carmen." You said his name with a grin, eyes lighting up, heart picking up its pace in your chest. You ran over for a quick, thoughtless hug that left his body partly on fire when you pulled away just as fast.
"Mars Bar." He uttered the old nickname endearingly, his voice cracking at the end of his words for some reason. He cleared his throat. "You're uh- you're here. In Chicago."
"Woah," Richie interrupted, coming in from behind, boisterous. "We've got a genius in The Beef, everybody!"
Sydney snorted from somewhere in the distance, but you couldn't even laugh because you'd been too busy staring at the way Carmen ran his hand through his golden hair that had been unruly since you were practically kids and still was.
"Yeah," you breathed, cringing at how awkward your voice sounded to your own ears. "I'm here."
The two of you held onto each other's gazes for a beat too long, scanning over the other wordlessly, taking in the changes that the years apart had brought.
"Well, uh," Carmen started, licking his lip to find strings of coherent words. "Do you wanna come into the office? Catch up?"
You nodded with a pleased tug of your lips. "Yeah, sure Carmen."
He nodded too and led the way, arm delicately resting on your upper back for a second in a way that left his fingertips buzzing, alive.
You entered the room after he did, the desk and walls littered with papers and sticky notes of different colors, an overload to the senses. It was stuffy, even with the door left open.
Before he turned to face you, he clumsily sorted some papers that'd been sitting on a wooden chair into stacks and pushed them onto the highest shelf above his desk so you could sit down, his white t-shirt slightly tugging upwards as he reached. Your eyes subtly followed the movement, eyes glancing steadily over a part of his lower abdomen that you felt alarmed at even sneaking a peak. That and the muscles that showed clearly from the short sleeves of his shirt.
God, you'd only been back in Chicago for a few days and your mind was already doing that thing it always did when you were around Carmen, like it didn't have the ability to think straight or act rationally when he was around.
"So, uh," Carmen started, turning his focus back to being one hundred percent on you. It became hard to concentrate when he did that, because he had the most piercing blue eyes you'd ever seen and you found over the years that they'd always had more than just one emotion swimming around in them. As you looked into them now, you still came up short in identifying them.
"What are you doing back in Chicago?" He looked at you like you were a puzzle, one he couldn't give up on solving. "Did the studies abroad finally start to bore you?"
"Yeah, they did," you joked, looking down at your lap. "Not really much to do in Europe compared to this place, you know?"
Carmen let out a wisp of a laugh, nodding, while also noting somewhere in the back of his mind that this was the first time he'd laughed in at least a few days. Your presence could always do that to him; Put him at ease when nothing else truly could.
"And, of course, I could only go so long being separated from the Berzattos."
He laughed again. That made twice. "Oh yeah?"
You nodded, playful in your words.
"I mean it." You did.
You let a comfortable silence nestle between the two of you, feeling the upward tug of your lips that you could only blame on Carmen. The thought left something alighted in your chest
"Seriously though." You say up a little straighter in your seat. "I guess the real reason I stopped by was because I was wondering if I could help out around here for a little while, now that I'm back home."
At this, the smile that had been resting on Carmen's face began to weaken.
"What?" His forehead creased, eyes dancing across your face with curiosity and disguised panic of his own.
Sensing his change in mood, you hurriedly continued. "I'll be home for a while and, you know, I just figured me getting a job here would be convenient and-"
"No."
You stopped mid-sentence, zeroing in on the man before you. "No?"
He had one hand leaning against the desk, the other's fingertips pressed to his forehead, head cast down, eyes evading yours.
"No, I- I'm sorry, Mars. We're ... we're not hiring right now. We don't need any new workers." At that, you frowned, taking in the tension in Carmen's stance and the tightness in his voice.
"I know The Beef is hiring right now, Carm." You gave him a disbelieving look. "In fact, I got the idea to work here from the flyers Sydney put up everywhere, so don't try and tell me you're not looking for new job applicants." You took a step closer to him, sensing something wrong and confused as to why he would lie, but he only seemed to be growing more agitated, shifting his posture upwards and no longer leaning on the table.
"That was a mistake, alright? I didn't ask her to do that. The Beef is doing perfectly fine, we don't need any extra help." Something sour was rotting in the undertones of his voice, the way he said the word help as if the thought of it was repellent.
"I didn't mean anything by asking. I ... I know you guys are doing fine, probably great even, I was just thinking that maybe I could-"
"We don't need any new fucking hires, Mars." He slammed his hand down on the desk, his tone raising so abruptly that it had you taking a step back in surprise.
When you looked up at him with alarm in your eyes, immediately his eyes began to soften, regret flooding through them. You held his gaze until those same eyes became taken over with this sudden guilt, almost sadness, flickering downwards towards his hands that moved to rest on his office desk, away from you.
You took a second to scan over the desk that was littered with papers and unsigned documents. It wasn't like Carmen to be unorganized, you knew that much. He had to be in a bad place to have his office look like this. Or, rather, Mikey's old office.
The room was a sensory overload, every inch of it a reminder of Mikey. Anyone would go crazy spending their days in here. Especially if that someone had been his little brother.
Carmen rubbed his hands over his face. You took a step next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder that lit aflame from the heat he gave off.
"For what it's worth," you started softly, and Carmen had to fight a shiver at how close your voice was to him. "I miss Mikey too."
He didn't make any movement to turn towards you, his jaw clenched and eyes still staring downwards. He didn't know what made you feel like you had to say that to him. He didn't need to look at you, though, to know you truly meant it.
"You can't work here," he said, his voice sounding defeated and a little far away. "I'm sorry."
Something restless in your heart was determined to make you fight back, figure out why Carmen was refusing you without a good reason. But something else inside of you softened at the way Carmen wouldn't meet your eyes, seeming guilt-stricken, and decided to back down. The hand that had been resting on his shoulder gave him a final squeeze.
You took your leave for the office door without Carmen moving an inch.
"Bye, Carm." Your voice was unfairly soft towards him, even if he felt like he didn't deserve the kindness that thrummed from your heart. "It was nice seeing you." You paused. "I've missed you."
Before he could turn to say goodbye, somehow communicate the 'I've missed you too' that he'd been meaning to express since he'd seen you, you had already turned down the hallway, out of sight. He knew for sure, then, that you didn't deserve that response from him. But he just didn't know how to tell you. How to explain without sounding ridiculous why alarms sounded in his brain at the thought of you working at The Beef.
He'd always known that you were destined for more than just the life you'd shared with him as kids, where you scored straight A's and were one of the top in your class. When you'd left for college while he stayed put, he didn't even let himself miss you, because he'd just wanted what was best for you. And when you furthered your studies even after college, traveling abroad, he knew that was the life you were meant for. To see you stopping all of that to work at The Beef, the place where his brother's dreams had become nothing but dead ends as time went on, wouldn't settle right inside of him.
Worst of all, he had visions of you working in the kitchen, behind the scenes where tensions were constantly overwhelming, of him losing his cool in front of you and you seeing a side of him he tried to keep you far away from. You'd always known the youngest brother Carmy, the world-class chef Carmy, the one who was at his best around you. He couldn't imagine what he would do if suddenly he revealed the Carmy he tried to hide; the Carmy who worked at The Beef, a bundle of unstable frustration who was barely hanging on, the Carmy who still didn't know how to live life without Mikey but who melted from your touch, who wanted more from the girl who'd been at his side for so many years as nothing but a friend, and a great one. He couldn't risk losing that.
Especially not with the condition of The Beef at the moment, which needed his full focus. Having you around would definitely not allow for that. So he convinced himself that this was for your own good. For his own good.
When you rounded the corner back out into the front of the restaurant, Richie was still there behind the counter, holding a phone to his ear.
You smiled at him a little tiredly and silently waved goodbye, walking towards the door.
Richie frowned, removing his focus from the phone call. "Where the hell are you leaving to so fast?" You spun around. "Don't tell me Carmy scared you off already."
You laughed awkwardly and thought of what to say, but must have taken too long to answer because Richie's face was already contorting with an over-the-top grimace.
"What'd that moron say to you, huh?"
You put a hand out, trying to calm him. "Richie, it's nothing, really-"
He was already stalking off towards the office, muttering something about 'killing Carmen'. You shook your head to yourself, because you knew how headstrong both of them were, and turned towards the exit. And, as you finally opened the glass door to leave, you could hear yelling and shouted vulgar words coming from the office. You didn't stay long enough to listen.
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You didn't know what to think when it happened. You'd been sitting at home all weekend, alone, and honestly truly bored and wondering if coming back home was the right choice when your phone started ringing. You checked the screen and it was an unknown caller, but boredom had you picking it up anyway.
Mars Bar!
"Hello? Who is this?"
It's me.
"..."
Richie.
"Ohh ... right. How did you get my number again?"
I asked around. Anyways, it doesn't matter. I'm supposed to be telling you that you're gonna start work tomorrow.
"What? Start work? Where?"
At The Beef. C'mon Mars catch up with me here.
"Sorry, I'm just ... confused. Carmen told me you guys weren't hiring and that he couldn't give me a job?"
Oh, that. Don't worry about Carmy. I set that moron straight.
"What are you saying?"
I'm saying, you got the job kid!
"Richie, are you fucking with me right now?"
No! Why does everyone always think I'm fucking with them? I'm fucking serious hon.
"Okay, okay! I ... I believe you. I think."
You better! Carmy is really fucking stoked to have you work here, I mean it.
"He ... he is?"
Sure! So I better see your ass Monday morning, capeesh?
"Y-yea I guess so."
Your heart really should not have fluttered the way it did when Richie told you that Carmen was supposedly excited to see you. He hadn't sounded like it when you'd brought it up to him. In fact, he seemed strangely opposed to the idea, like you'd hit a sensitive area.
You weren't sure if you could really believe Richie. Like you'd always known, Carmen was stubborn as hell. The change of heart was unexpected, to say the least. You didn't know what to think. You still didn't know, as you walked through the front entrance of The Beef the next day, ready to start work. The only person to greet you at the front was Richie, standing behind the counter, per usual.
"Cousin!" He gestured you over. You greeted him back and rounded the corner to stand behind the counter next to him, unused to the feeling after spending years on the other side of it.
Richie spent at most two minutes giving you a rundown of what you'd be doing at The Beef, merely distracted by some yelling in the kitchen. The brief directions consisted mostly of taking orders and ringing a bell. A real challenge.
"Yeah, so that's basically it." He gave you a pat on the back and your front almost hit the counter at the impact.
"No paperwork or formalities or anything?" You were almost suspicious of the fast speed at which this had all happened. Richie whipped his head around like you'd stated something crazy.
"Formalities? C'mon, what are we, the fucking White House? This is a family business, Cousin."
He patted you on the shoulder roughly. "Thanks, Richie," you said, both slightly amused and slightly unnerved. You tapped your fingers on the marble countertop, trying to seem casual. "Where's um ... where's Carmy?"
Richie scratched his head. "He's, uh, he's busy. He'll be out soon. Don't you worry, shortcake." He gave you a wink that you didn't know what to do with and turned back towards the kitchen. You were gonna have to talk to him about those nicknames in the workplace sooner or later.
You called out to him before he left into the kitchen, hesitant. "You're sure Carmen said he wants me to work here, right?"
Your eyes bore into Richie's for a moment, and it was almost like you could see the thoughts in his head visibly swarming about. His shoulder raised. "Well, he didn't exactly say he wanted you to, but anyone with fucking eyes can see that he wants you-"
"Richie!" Your jaw hung open in utter annoyance and bafflement. He frowned at you.
"What?"
You almost scoffed. "Did Carmen really not say it was okay for me to work here?" You looked around, bewildered. "Does he even know I'm here?"
Richie gestured his hands out to you. "Sure he does!"
You could tell just from his tone what your answer was. You put a hand on your hip, shaking your head to yourself. "I'm going in there to talk to him."
"No!" Richie's eyes widened. "No. Just calm down, and I'll talk to him."
You stared at him disbelievingly. He stared back at you challengingly with the confidence only Richie could have. "I'll be back in no time. I know what I'm doing, trust me."
Richie didn't know what he was planning on doing when he opened the door to the kitchen in search of Carmen. He just hoped he wasn't using a knife when he found him.
He turned a few corners before Carmen was in his line of view, hunched over the counter as he worked busily on something Richie couldn't see. He leaned against the counter next to him, watching Carmen as his focus didn't even falter.
"Carm."
He didn't get a reply, just the back of Carmen's head as he focused on reading the piece of paper in front of him, hand braced against the shining surface it lay on.
"Carmy."
The man in question slowly shifted his focus to the man next to him, whose distracting presence had become impossible to ignore. "What? What is it?"
Richie peered down at him. "Promise that you won't get mad."
Carmen's eyes narrowed. "What the hell did you do?"
"Just promise me you won't fucking blow up at me like you always do."
"Why would I promise that if I don't even know what the hell you did?"
Richie tipped his head back exasperatedly. "Just say you promise!"
"I fucking promise! Okay?" Carmen ran a hand through his hair, moving it again to cross his arms. "Now, what is it?"
Richie paused, kicking out his foot and casually peering down at it with feigned interest. "Mars Bar is outside right now. Again."
Carmen's forehead creased and he looked over at Richie with sudden alarm. "What? Why? Is she okay?"
Richie gave him a knowing look, smug for a moment. "Yeah, she's fine." He shrugged. "I just, um, might have given her a job here up at the register."
Carmen's face was unmoving, his tone raising with poorly hidden anger. "You what?"
"And I might've also told her you really wanted her to work here."
Carmen's eyes scanned Richie's sporadically like he couldn't process his words fast enough. "Wh- Why the fuck would you do that? I already told her no-"
"Yeah, and I told her yes. Because you're an idiot and I'm saving your ass. You're welcome!"
Carmen ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly. "For what? Fucking me over?"
"I did not fuck you over, Carm, I'm doing this for you!"
Carmen shook his head, anger bleeding its way through his mind. "What the hell are you talking about? I told you, Richie, I don't want her anywhere near this place. I- I thought that was understood."
"No, it was not fucking understood because it was a stupid idea." Carmen let out a scoff as Richie put his hands out to Carmen in a calming gesture. "This is a good thing, trust me."
Carmen sputtered. "How the fuck is it-"
"Shut the fuck up and listen to me, Carm!" Richie shouted, bravely putting a hand up in front of Carmen's face. He pointed his finger at him which Carmen regarded with annoyance. "You need to stop being a moron and pushing away every single fucking female that tries to come within ten feet of you, alright?"
Carmen's brows furrowed even further, confusion building alongside anger. "I really have no goddamn idea what your point is here, Richie, but this has nothing to do with-"
"Oh spare me, Cousin!" He shouted. "We all know you've had the hots for Mars Bar over there since you were kids, alright?"
Carmen's mouth clamped shut immediately at this, his breathing coming out in fumes. He shook his head back and forth.
"Is this what this whole fucking thing is about, you jagoff?"
"Woah woah woah!" Richie cut in. "I am not the jagoff here, Cousin. I'm helping you out!"
"Richie's right, Carm," cut in Fak from behind, appearing suddenly out of nowhere like he always seemed to.
"Shut the fuck up, Fak!" Carmen held his head in his hand, trying to grab hold of his temper that he could feel slipping out of control. He needed to breathe.
"She can't work here."
Richie raised his arms in a shrug. "Well, you're gonna have to go tell her that yourself."
"I fucking will."
Carmen stormed off towards the kitchen door, ready to tell you yet again that you had to leave, a daunting thought overlooked thanks to adrenaline. Richie chuckled from behind him. "Yeah right, like you're gonna fire her."
Carmen didn't let himself listen to Richie any longer. Fists clenched at his sides, he opened the door and there you were, standing there, looking confused and a little surprised with parted lips.
Richie came up from behind and patted him on the back. "Go on, Carm. Tell her."  You watched as Carmen's jaw clenched.
Carmen really wanted to tell you that you couldn't work here. That you had to go home. That you had to run far away from this place and go back to studying abroad and being more successful than any of them and all of that bullshit. Maybe it was because your eyes were shining a little too bright in the restaurant lighting, or that they looked a little too hopeful as they stared back at him with raised brows, waiting. But he didn't say anything of those things.
"You..." he started. Your eyebrows raised further. His palms suddenly became sweatier. He took a breath in.
"You, um," a beat passed. He licked his lip. "You're gonna need an apron."
Your eyes lit up even more if possible, and he thought his heart would give out. Then, you ran up and threw your arms around his neck in a tight hug, and he genuinely questioned if his brain had short-circuited because, by the time he came back to reality, you'd already pulled away and were practically jittering with excitement from in front of him.
"Thank you so much, Carm." Every time you smiled at him in that way he felt himself lose a bit of control. He didn't like the feeling. "You won't regret it."
He smiled back at you because he couldn't not. He wasn't so sure.
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Carmen had given you your apron. When he'd handed it to you, you'd brushed fingers and your heart skipped a little beat at the contact. That had been the most eventful thing to occur within the next four days.
You'd done practically nothing at The Beef all week. There'd been a noticeable lack of customers coming into the restaurant to take orders, and those who did oftentimes came in just to see Richie, which had you leaning against the counter waiting and listening to their loud conversations with the man.
It felt like there was some sort of prank being played on you. Surely they wouldn't pay you money for doing absolutely nothing. All the waiting around doing close to nothing made you antsy, frustrated, and confused.
You'd been meaning to address this to Carmen, to ask what you were doing wrong, but getting a hold of him was near impossible. You'd seen so little of Carmen that you couldn't even be sure he came into work most days, the only confirmation being his shouts coming from the kitchen at the others. As embarrassing as it was to admit, you became jealous of them. You'd take Carmen shouting orders at you in the kitchen any day over him saying nothing to you at all. It almost felt like he was avoiding you.
It was a Thursday night, and the antsy feeling inside of you had you staying late at work that night, wiping down tables with an intense amount of fervor.
You'd thought you were the last one in The Beef. It'd been dark for hours, but you had nobody and nothing exciting waiting for you at home, so working a little extra couldn't hurt. And, if it made Carmen notice your position at The Beef at least a little bit, it would be worth it.
As your thoughts drifted to the man, something made a noise from the kitchen, and it became apparent to you that maybe you weren't the only one working late that night.
"Hello?" You'd said aloud, your voice slightly echoing in the vacant restaurant. No response was returned. You slowly went back to scrubbing down a table against the far wall from the kitchen door when it swung open, and there stood Carmen Berzatto in his patchwork wool jacket, looking like seeing you was the last thing he'd expected.
The sight was jarring to you for a number of reasons. You jumped up speedily and tucked the rag you'd been using to clean tables slightly behind you as if he hadn't already seen you using it.
"Mars Bar?" He said, the nickname falling easily from his lips like it was the only one he'd ever known you by. He eyed your tense stance.
"Hey, Carmen." Your smile was just as unnatural. His eyebrows pulled downward at you, eyes squinting and blinking confusedly in the dim lighting like he was fighting sleep.
"What are you doing here so late?" You nibbled at your own lip. Carmen, even from across the room, made sure to follow the movement. You noticed him eye the rag in your hands.
"I was just cleaning off some of the umm ... some of the tables." You didn't know why you sounded so embarrassed. You also didn't know what was going through Carmen's mind as he looked over you, and then over the spotless tables behind you.
"Wow," he began, running a hand through his hair. "You really didn't have to do all this. It's not ... it's not part of your job, you know?" A feeling bitter and stale simmered inside of you.
"I know." You stood up straighter. "Maybe I just wanted to.
You wanted to say more in the moment, tell him all of your frustrations, but you didn't. You just stared back at him and watched as he walked towards where you stood by the tables. You didn't move an inch.
His eyes surveyed the tops of the tables and he marveled at how clean they were. Not just clean, but almost sparkling, even in the low lighting that came from a single overhead lamp and the streetlights from outside.
"You did a great job, Chef."
Your eyebrows raised unintentionally. He'd never called you that before, though you'd heard the name from his lips aimed at others countless times. He noticed your reaction.
"What?" He asked, eyeing you curiously. He leaned back against the table next to you, his beautiful stare almost becoming a little too much for you after a long day. You shrugged.
"Nothing. It's just," you paused, "you've never called me that before."
His expression was slightly confused, slightly amused. "Well," he began, gaze shifting from the ground to you. "Now I do. You work here, don't you?"
The question settled uncomfortably in your chest, and you let out a laugh that sounded just as strained. "Hardly."
Carmen's eyebrows flashed downwards in a quick frown. "What do you mean 'hardly'?" You felt his eyes scanning your face, scanning you. "What's up?"
You went back to rubbing at the corner of a nearby table with your rag if only to distract yourself from Carmen's gaze and the petty way your words sounded coming from your lips.
"I mean," you began. "It feels like I haven't really done much of anything around here, you know?" When he didn't say anything back, you continued. "I've only taken a handful of customer's orders in the past couple of days. And, I know I'm not the best cook in the world but I could definitely help out in the kitchen with something. Maybe I could cut up some stuff, or prep it, or whatever you guys call it. Anything, really."
He didn't say anything right away, and you became horrified that you'd pushed his buttons too many times in the last week with your rants and that he'd finally send you on your way once and for all. Then, you heard something like a laugh come from him. You reeled back.
"Is something funny?" You asked, your tone uncharacteristically sour. He silenced his amusement and looked at you intently.
"You've always been such an overachiever, Mars."
You paused, then shook your head. "Oh please, we all know you're the ambitious one."
"No, not when we were kids," Carmen argued. "I was never great in school. You, on the other hand," he chuckled under his breath. "My mom would have me go check in on you whenever we hadn't heard from you on a night before a test. Make sure you weren't overdosing on coffee and pop."
You swore you could feel your heart beating in your chest at Carmen's revelation and the fondness in his voice.
"You know," Carmen began again, getting lost in memories. "I think my mom used to have this theory I'd marry you one day or something. Said you were the only girl who'd put up with my stubbornness."
Oh my God. Your head was spinning. Why was he saying this? He didn't know what the hell he was doing to you. Or your heartbeat, which was concerningly gaining speed. He never did.
All you could say was, "Oh?"
He laughed some more like this was something casual, something funny. You couldn't help but notice that forever present weight present in his eyes, though. Something he could never seem to shed.
"Yeah, well," Carmen began again, "my mother has also been mentally unstable for years, so." He jokingly trailed off, his voice dying in the silence, along with any butterflies you'd felt. You laughed quietly, even if laughing was the last thing you wanted to do when hearing that.
You felt like you were being suffocated. By him and his blue eyes and his dry, self-deprecating jokes and the small quirk of his lips. You were also getting restless because you'd started off trying to talk with Carmen about your job, and now were getting lost in the haze of your feelings for him which you decided were useless and would get you nowhere. You cast them aside the best you could and looked him directly in the eyes.
"Carmen," you said. His attention focused directly on you. "Did you listen to any of the things I said about working here?"
He nodded. "Yeah," he assured you. "Of course."
"So, will you take them into consideration? Let me do more, Carmen. I can do more."
There was a beat of silence. He fidgeted, like he did when he was a boy and couldn't focus in class, or when he was nervous around a girl he'd liked. Nervous around you.
He wanted to say yes. Hell, he would've given you anything you'd asked for just to see you happy. But he didn't know what the consequences of giving you a more important role at The Beef would achieve. What it might stop you from achieving. What it might do to him. So, he didn't say anything. Not anything direct.
"I know you can, Mars." He exhaled and then put his hands in his pockets, eyes cast down. He glanced at his watch. "It's almost midnight. We can talk about this more in the morning. Okay?"
His response was like a smack in the face. A sharp pain that left a dull ache. You let a breath out and tried to keep your face from revealing your stubborn frustration. You slowly nodded. "Okay."
Even if you tried to contain your emotions, Carmen could see it. He noticed it in the quick flare of your nostrils as you breathed, in the slight clench of your jaw. Stupidly, he asked, "Is that okay?"
You weren't looking at him. You were looking at your feet. You tapped your foot once. "Yes."
Even more stupidly, he asked, "Are you sure?"
You finally shifted your focus to him and he felt his own jaw clench at the way it sent a rush down his spine.
"Yeah, Carmen." That was the first time he didn't like the way you said his name.
"Alright," he said, nodding slowly, lifting his bag higher on his shoulder.
"Alright."
You lifted the rag from the table, stood there for a second, and walked towards the counter, where you wrung it out and slapped it down into a bucket full of other dirty rags, and left it there. You didn't feel much like putting it away.
Carmen hadn't moved and just stood there by the tables, watching as you collected your coat from behind the counter and turned off the lights as you walked past.
When he saw you walking towards the door, he rushed to get there first, to open it for you. You beat him to it, opening it yourself. He closed it and locked the door behind him. You both were engulfed by the dull chill of the air right away, and you couldn't help but shiver.
Carmen turned to you. "Let me drive you home." He didn't dare offer you a lighthearted smile or anything of that sort. He didn't think he had it in himself to be lighthearted, anyways.
You gifted him a polite one with a short tug of your lips. "I have a car. Thanks."
Carmen could've smacked himself right there. "Right." He didn't know what was wrong with him. "Sorry." The apology was for more than just his assumption, but he couldn't bring himself to clarify.
"I'll walk you to your car then?" He asked, though you knew no matter what you said he'd make sure you'd get to your car safely either way.
"Okay, yeah."
You both turned to walk to your car, Carmen letting you take the lead for a moment before catching up to walk side by side with you. You were hit with the reality that Carmen Berzatto was walking you to your car, alone with you, at midnight. A small gesture that had your mind buzzing from the contrast between your love for him and your frustration with him. Nobody had come close to making you feel the emotions Carmen made you feel, even if no words were shared between both of you on that short walk. It felt completely silent. Somehow, even if the streets of Chicago were anything but, it felt silent.
Carmen thought about how his life was full of silent moments, never saying what he truly wanted to, to the people he wanted to speak to the most. When he noticed you were cold, even through your jacket, he walked a little closer to you. Whether you noticed it or not, he didn't know, but at least it soothed a small part of his mind that was blaring that night, telling him that he'd fucked up with you. That you deserved better. He couldn't help but think that same thing when he was around you, all the time.
You'd both crossed the street to reach your car in not even a full minute, but the walk had felt eternal to you. When you turned to Carmen to tell him goodnight, he was already looking at you intently. You wanted to ask what he was thinking, but you didn't, and unlocked your car.
"See you in the morning, Carmen," you said, tone unrevealing. He gave you his best neutral smile.
"Yeah. See you, Mars."
You went to open your car door, but this time he beat you to it. Even if he made you angry, he was still Carmen.
You watched as he rounded the front of your car back to the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, soft breathing visible in the cold from the white puffs it made in the air as he breathed.
You gave him one last wave as a goodbye, but by that time he was pretty much out of vision, and then drove away.
He watched your car drive down the street, stop at the light, turn the corner, and then glide out of view.
Immediately, he knew he should've said more on the walk to your car. He should've at least apologized. He didn't tell you that he was sorry for being so shitty. He didn't tell you he appreciated everything you did. He also didn't tell you his car was parked on the opposite end of the street.
And as he walked back to it, crossing The Beef again with its spotless tables, he thought about nothing except you.
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The next morning had you waking up with a headache that only worsened when you stepped foot into The Beef. Your coworkers were shouting and blurting out orders in typical kitchen lingo that you honestly didn't fully understand.
There seemed to be an underlying tension simmering in the air that morning that had everyone's voices raised just a little bit more than usual, echoing through to you from your designated spot behind the front counter.
You figured out soon that that tension came from the review of The Beef that had been put in the paper the night before. It was the same topic that had Sydney and Richie arguing back and forth for minutes on end next to you.
"So this is a war on poor people?" You heard Richie ask as you finally tuned back into their yelling. "I see you."
"No," Sydney yelled back. "This is a war on you shutting the fuck up and learning how to use the tablet! The end dude."
"What is the end?"
You turned to your left to see Carmen stride out of the kitchen, looking every bit intense, shoulders hunched and rigid. He glanced at you in some form of a greeting for only a second before putting himself between Richie and Sydney and somewhat settling their argument.
"Are we ready?" He asked them with a rushed tone.
"No!" Sydney snapped, but headed back into the kitchen with Richie, even if you could see she wanted to punch the man in the face.
You turned back around to watch Carmen as he hurriedly ran a hand through his hair and started to rush back into the kitchen. You tried to catch his eyes, but he didn't meet your gaze.
"Um, Chef?" You tried to call, reaching out an arm to get his attention just a hair too late, him brushing past you without taking notice of you.
"Carmen?" This time he turned around, head flipping around to focus on you with eyes shot wide in the rush.
"What's up?" He asked, eyes quickly assessing your face. For a second you forgot what you were supposed to be asking.
"Did you, um, think about what I said last night?" He blinked back at you. "You said we'd talk about it in the morning, so, could we maybe talk about it?"
With the way he stared back at you, for a second you could've sworn he'd forgotten what you were talking about. Then, it had clearly dawned on him and he squeezed his eyes shut for a second, holding out a hand to his head.
"No, yeah, right." He thought for a second, and then looked around, peeking into the kitchen, attention clearly spread elsewhere.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "Can we just ... talk about this another time?"
You tried not to show your frustration. "Like when?"
"Uh," Carmen started, but he was already backing into the kitchen. A loud clanging noise of pots and pans rang through to the front, and his focus was completely lost. "Who the fuck keeps denting my pans, Chefs?!" He shouted. He threw the kitchen door open and moved to go inside, but not before calling out "We'll talk later, Chef!" and disappearing into the kitchen.
You groaned. "Later," could mean any time between that day and Easter. You didn't want to blame Carmen. You knew he was extremely busy and tended to overwork himself. But something in the back of your mind told you he was avoiding you. You didn't like the feeling.
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It'd only been maybe an hour into the day when all hell started to break loose in the kitchen. At least from what you could hear. There was three times as much yelling as usual and people were weaving through the station by the front counter and the kitchen, shouting sandwich orders. Meanwhile, you felt lost and unhelpful, with no direct answer as to what was going on.
You'd spent your time filling up the napkin dispenser and cutting green tape, feeling your uselessness in your bones. Maybe Carmen was right. Maybe you were overly ambitious. That didn't change the fact that now it seemed like not just Carmen, but everyone else had gone out of their way to keep you away from the kitchen.
You'd thought about going in there anyway, but thought better of it when listening to the commotion. That was, until you saw Marcus with his bags taking his leave towards the exit, a look of both anger and defeat on his face.
"Woah, Marcus," you called out with furrowed brows. "What's wrong? Where are you going?"
He let out a quick breath from his nose that sounded like it was supposed to be a wry laugh. He pointed towards the back. "Anywhere but in that kitchen." You frowned and he shook his head. "He's losing his shit, man."
You were confused and looked to him for more of an explanation, but he was already walking out the door and it didn't seem like he had any plans of coming back. You wanted to ask him "who?", but you had a sinking feeling in your gut telling you that you already knew just who he meant.
That and the loud "Fuck!" that came from the other side of the wall was the last push you needed to finally storm into the litchen. As soon as you walked in, it was a complete overload to your senses. The sounds and smells of sizzling food, the clunky buzzing of timers, and an argument at practically every corner. What had you reeling to a stop, though, was the sight of Carmen shouting truly throat-tearing orders, face turning red with exertion, hair damp from sweat, skin gleaming in the sight.
"Can somebody get me a Sharpie that fucking works?!" he screamed while whipping a Sharpie out of his hand and onto the ground. Your eyes widened at the sight.
"Woah," you said aloud, not even meaning to say the word but being unable to stop yourself. When you did, Carmen's focus switched onto you in a second and you could see the pure chaos held behind his eyes.
"Wh- what the fuck are you doing in here?"
You frowned at his abruptness. "I just wanted to know what the hell is going on in here-"
"Nothing is going on in here."
Someone laughed from around the corner and about three more timers began to buzz and beep.
"Oh please, I've been hearing screaming for hours and then I see Marcus storming out of here with his things saying you've lost it."
At that, Carmen paused, eyes searching yours intently. "Marcus left?"
"Yeah," you answered steadily, unsure of how exactly he'd react. "It looked like he was quitting."
For a second, it looked like Carmen felt guilty, sad, but then he was fuming and slamming his hands down on the counter.
"Fuck!" He shook his head back and forth like he was rummaging through a thousand thoughts swirling around his head. He shouted again. "Fuck!"
You didn't like the sight before you, or the way Carmen seemed to be losing control of himself, and quickly. "Now can you tell me what the problem is?" You almost pleaded. "I could help."
Carmen hardly bothered to look you in the eyes and strode past you to reach the oven you'd been standing by, lifting the lid of a pot and adjusting the heat at lightning speed.
"You're not seriously ignoring me right now when I'm offering to help-"
He put up a hand. "I told you I'd talk with you later, Mars. Go back to the register."
You scoffed. "What the hell are you talking about? That's-" you shook your head. "I'm not leaving until I at least know what the fuck is going on."
"You wanna know what the fuck is going on?" Richie shouted out, laughing to himself loudly as he appeared from behind the corner. "Some moron left the pre-order option open on her beloved tablet overnight and now we're 250-something beefs behind schedule!"
Your head was spinning from the news and from the lack of air in the kitchen, but the yelling kept coming.
"Okay, well, the 'moron' is right here and she has a name, thank you," cut in Sydney, livid. "And there is no fucking way you are putting all the blame on me right now, Richie-"
"Who else's fucking fault is it sweetheart?"
"Richie, I swear to God if you call me that one more time-"
"Shut the fuck up!" Carmen's booming voice split the two of them apart. "Shut the fuck up and get back to work!"
They listened and went back to their stations angrily mumbling to themselves. That didn't change the fact that you knew the kitchen was in deep shit and Carmen was one wrong move away from losing his mind. You watched as he stormed around the kitchen to different stations. You'd be an idiot if you just stood at the register waiting for more nonexistent orders.
"Sydney," you called out as she passed by. "What can I do to help?"
She raised the corners of her lips in a slightly surprised smile and thought for a second.
"You can probably start by helping me with peeling these potatoes for now." She handed you a basket filled with potatoes and pointed towards a metal peeler on the counter. You quickly nodded.
"Okay, on it, Chef."
"Great. Oh, and-"
"Sydney, what the fuck are you doing?" yelled Carmen as he rounded the corner behind Sydney. He glanced angrily back and forth between you and the potatoes in your hands.
Sydney rolled her eyes. "What does it look like I'm doing, Chef? I'm getting us some very much necessary extra help."
"We don't need any fucking extra help right now!"
Sydney turned fully to face him. "Carmy what the fuck is your problem right now? Just let her fucking peel some potatoes!"
Carmen was breathing heavily, a vein in his neck visibly contracting."I told you guys she stays out front. I told everyone she's not supposed to-"
"Excuse me?" You asked, cutting in. He was talking about you like you weren't standing right behind Sydney, hearing his every shouted word. "Sydney's right. You need to stop getting so worked up about this!"
Carmen looked like he wanted to scream. To break out into shouts even louder than even those from this morning. You'd only seen Carmen worked up like this a few times before and even then he knew when he was taking things too far.
He didn't say anything back to you and just turned away.
"Someone just get her out of here!" He hollered, to anyone who'd listen. Anyone but you. Somehow, that was even more angering than his yelling.
"Hey!" You yelled, shoving his shoulder back to turn him to face you. He glanced down towards the same shoulder before looking back towards you. You saw something haughty flash behind his eyes as they stared back at you. "Whatever you need to say about me, you can say it to me, Carmen."
He was definitely speaking to you now.
"I need you to stay the fuck out!" He pointed a finger down at you. "You never fucking listen to me! I gave you this job because you fucking asked me to, because Richie fucking asked me to. So how about you finally listen to me and stay the fuck out?!"
You knew everyone had stopped to watch. It was quieter in the kitchen than it had been all morning.
You both stood standing there with heavy breathing. Your mind couldn't think of what to say back in that moment, but a thousand different responses played through your mind. Things you wanted to ask, to shout, to make sure he understood.
Your stare bore into Carmen's own for a few seconds, noticing the anger in them, but also something fragile threatening to shatter and reveal itself. He looked away from you quickly, bracing a hand on the counter.
"Leave, Chef." He said. You didn't need to be asked twice. Not that he was asking.
"Yeah," you laughed under your breath. You untied your apron and left it on the counter. "I definitely will."
He could call you Chef, but he wouldn't even let you enter the kitchen. He could yell at you, but he couldn't even look you in the eyes as you finally left the kitchen.
Another timer went off in the background as Carmen stood there, mulling over what he'd just done in his head; the one thing, most of all, he didn't want to happen.
Sydney shook her head, brushing past him. "Carmen Berzatto, you are a fucking idiot."
He didn't have anything to say, nothing to argue back with. He knew she was right. And as he heard the front door jingle as a sign of you leaving, he also knew just how badly he'd fucked up.
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You didn't come to work the next day, or the day after that. Carmen never got to listen for the jingle of the doorbell as you came into work. He didn't get a single glimpse of you, those glimpses that were like caffeine shots, keeping him going every day. He didn't see your warm, familiar eyes that reminded him why he kept going in the first place. This was what he got for trying to keep you at arm's length. For being an asshole. The regret knawed at him painstakingly.
When the first hour went by and you didn't show up, he didn't need anyone to tell him that you wouldn't come into work that day. He had Richie cover the register in your place, an order shouted quickly as he was forced to think about things other than you. And as the day went on, the fact that he didn't know when he'd see you again was a heavy weight that lay in his chest, waiting to be addressed.
You awoke that morning in your apartment, phone lighting up beside you on your bedside table to four missed calls all from the same person. A person you didn't really feel like talking to much.
You checked the time and saw it was almost noon. It wasn't like you to sleep in. And, you hadn't called in sick to work. Not that it mattered.
The next day went the same. You hadn't called in sick that morning either, but you didn't have it in you to care. You didn't even know if you wanted to come back, but there was a twisting feeling inside of you that you knew wouldn't feel release until you settled things with Carmen. The hard part would lay in being upfront with him, not letting him make any excuses, and not letting yourself soften all because he was Carmen Berzatto. A battle between your pride and whatever you felt for him.
Carmen had called you two more times, but soon, the calls stopped coming. Carmen may have been an asshole at times, but he wasn't an idiot. In fact, he was extremely smart. And definitely smart enough to know that calling you repeatedly would get him nowhere, not when he'd been as awful as he had.
You'd spent the day driving around running errands that left you tired with boredom. The sun was setting as you walked back to your own front door, the air crisp and clear from the cold while your mind felt anything but. You reached your front doorstep and unlocked the entrance to your apartment, only to step forward and feel something crunch and mash underneath the heel of your shoe. You lifted your foot and glanced downward.
A candy bar. You peered down further. A Mars Bar.
Something inside of you paused. Maybe your heartbeat, maybe your thoughts. You weren't sure but you could feel it. The now half-smushed candy bar lay on the floor like a bittersweet memory.
You blinked. There was a note. It looked like it had been torn from the corner of something messily. More importantly, there was writing on it, in pencil, words pressed hard into paper.
I'm an asshole. You don't deserve that.
No name, but you knew who it was from. Not a "sorry" in sight, but you knew he was trying. You could almost feel the intent behind the words etched into the paper as you held it. You wanted to be furious still. And you definitely were mad. But maybe not as much. Because you knew Carmen.
You knew he had the temper of someone who'd just lost a brother, of someone who'd grown up in a screaming Berzatto household in the heart of Chicago. You'd never taken his outbursts to heart and you didn't want to now. Besides. You knew, eventually, you'd miss him too much to ignore him.
So much for not giving in to Carmen Berzatto.
You didn't really know what plan you had when you walked back towards your car, sat down, placed the chocolate bar and note in your bag, and drove. You didn't think you had one. You just were aware that your days away from The Beef had been extremely boring and that you wanted to see Carmen. To hear what he had to say to you. Even if it didn't end the way you wanted.
The familiar path to The Beef stretched before you now as an uncertain one. When you got there, you tossed your bag over your shoulder and got out of your car to the sight of the lights off in the front of the restaurant. But, if you knew anything about Carmen, you knew he'd stay late. Your assumption was proven right when you entered through the unlocked door—a slightly concerning fact—and saw the harsh white light of the kitchen flooding through to the rest of the place.
You hesitated to enter, not sure if you really knew what you were doing, but ignored the thoughts plaguing you and walked carefully into the kitchen, waiting at the door when you saw him.
He faced mostly away from the door, from you, hunched over the counter doing something that had his full focus, enough of it that he didn't notice you at first. You saw he had a toothbrush in hand and that he was determinedly scrubbing at the silver countertop surface that already sparkled spotlessly. Clearly, he didn't notice or care.
It felt like you were holding your breath as you watched him, saw how focused he was, how the muscles in his back flexed and churned with each precise movement he made as he scrubbed at a nonexistent stain. Like he held a desire to erase more than just grime.
He did that for what felt like another minute without pause, and you watched the whole time wordlessly, not wanting to break the focus he had and not knowing what to say regardless. Part of you just wanted to watch him, to see how long he could keep at it without noticing you. It wasn't for too long.
He lifted his posture upright and ran a hand through his hair, inhaling deeply with little exhale as if something weighty was plaguing him. Then, he finally sensed your presence at the doorway, eyes flicking towards you as his moments came to a halt. You watched him part his lips as he thought about what to say.
He shakenly said your name, a fragile plea. The word was soft coming from his lips like he knew it well, but nestled in your brain with surprise as he called you by your real name, not just a nickname. You didn't know what to say, so you didn't say anything at all.
As he looked at you standing in the doorway, he felt exposed, like you could see through any walls he'd tried to build around himself. Words faltered from his brain. His lips parted again as if he was going to say something more, but they shut just as quickly and he ran a hand over his chin. He gestured that hand out to you.
"You uhm- did you get my note?"
You stared back at him for a beat before nodding and reaching into your bag. You held the note out in front of you, the side of your mouth quirking upwards. "Was this Carmen language for 'I'm sorry' ?"
You were half kidding and half serious, a test hidden in your words. The fact weighed on Carmen's brain, his demeanor more nervous than usual, more anxious.
"Yeah, uhm," he scrunched his eyes closed for a half second before walking towards you, taking the note from your hand and reading it to himself again, feeling the warm haze of shame creeping up on him. "Let me translate."
He read it once more. "Well, the 'I'm an asshole,' is pretty verbatim. I'm an asshole, and an idiot, and a bunch of other bad things." He glanced up at you from the paper and was relieved to see that you seemed at least a little amused. He continued. "And the 'You don't deserve that', you see, that's the good part, it translates directly to 'I'm sorry for yelling at you ' and 'it doesn't matter how stressed I was, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. That was wrong of me. And ... you're great.' "
Your eyebrows raised. "That's quite the translation."
Carmen laughed to himself breathily, but it held little amusement. "Yeah, I've been told communicating with me is like trying to tame a wild animal."
You smiled. "Who told you that?"
"Sugar."
Your laugh was warm and sounded like home. It was a feeling that left as fast as it came because soon the air between the two of you seemed to thicken with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. The heavy silence lay bare and neither of you decided to fill it right away.
"Carmen."
The way you said his name sent shivers down his spine, a sensation that never ceased to affect him. He nodded at you, eyes studying your face showing that you had his sole attention.
"I know you don't like the idea of me being here. You don't have to try and hide it." His eyes widened as you spoke."But, could you at least tell me why?"
He stared back at you, brows furrowed like he was confused. It was like you could see the gears turning in his brain as he fought to find the right wording, revealed by the stiffening mass of his shoulders that never seemed to relax.
"I don't not like you being here, Mars Bar." He spoke slowly. "I think it's great that you're back in Chicago. I ... We've missed you."
A subtle warmth lay in his gaze, but you couldn't help but feel it was dimmed by whatever emotion he'd been suppressing, the battle evident in flickers in the blue of his eyes.
"I want to believe that, but with the way you've been avoiding me, how can I?"
"Avoiding you- that's," he shook his head, almost seeming incredulous, and you watched as he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did. "I haven't been trying to avoid you."
You didn't know how he could sound surprised, how you could've interpreted the way he's acted all week as anything else. "Well that's definitely what it's felt like when I tried talking to you all week, and you're just ... I don't know, dismissive."
He rubbed a hand at the nape of his neck, focus pitched somewhere that wasn't at you, jaw tightening slightly. "I just ... it's busy around here trying to bring in enough money, and there have been a lot of different things that have my focus right now," he started, as if he hadn't, time and time again, had to remind himself to stop thinking about you.
"Carmen, I know you're busy but that-," you tried to keep your emotions from showing through your voice, but you were aware of the tinge of frustration that was slipping through. "I know that's only part of it. I just need you to be more transparent with me. I can't read your mind."
He nodded, silently thanking God that you couldn't. He swallowed again and you noticed a tremor in the way he held the note he'd written, a sign of unease that he quickly hid in the pocket of his jeans.
"I'll tell you anything you want to know." His blue eyes stared into yours, though you could sense the reluctance in his voice. "But I'm not gonna lie and say that I think it's a good idea for you to stay here."
You felt yourself frown, brows tugging downwards in frustration and confusion. "Why?"
His gaze faltered for just a moment, seeming torn, but he was quick to regain his momentum. "This place is ... it's not meant for someone like you."
You squinted at him, feeling a mix of disbelief and irritation. "Someone like me?"
"Yeah, I just mean," he hesitated, hearing the way you repeated his words, like they were meant to insult. "You were supposed to leave here and finish your studies abroad and achieve great things. Things bigger and better than this shit hole. You were gonna-"
"Carmen, stop." You almost scoffed to yourself. "My plans were always to stay close to home. A few months abroad weren't gonna change that." The air in the room seemed to thicken with the weight of the words you both shared, the thoughts never said allowed before. You noticed your breathing was becoming labored as you failed to understand the way Carmen's mind worked, the way he tried to communicate so much by doing so little.
"This whole time you were worried about me supposedly being meant to achieve great things, but what about you?" You let out a stunned laugh. "You're the one who studied with the best of the best, traveled all over, became a world-class chef and everything else, and now you're overworking yourself at this place and refusing help."
"Yeah, well, that part of my life stopped when Mikey gave this place to me as a final fuck you, so."
Your heart twinged not only at the name, but at the way Carmen's eyes flashed with hurt while his words could've cut stone.
"Mikey gave this place to you because he trusted you," you reasoned. You tried to make him come down from wherever he was, to detach himself from the hurt and open up. The hard plane of his shoulders lifted once in a shrug, with a small shake of his head as he stared at the ground.
"Yeah well, he just ended up fucking screwing me over."
Carmen's frustration seeped into his voice, the way he emphasized each word like he wanted to release whatever was simmering under the surface. You wanted to reach out, tell him that he could, but you held yourself back and stood up taller.
"That doesn't mean you should push people away from this place. Push me away. I could help out here. I saw how hectic it was the last time I was here and-"
"That day was a fluke," Carmen cut you off. "It's not usually like that..." his jaw worked. "I'm not usually like that." His words were laced with exasperation and a little bit of shame. You could tell he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.
"Carmen, I understand. But-"
"I already blew up at you." His voice cut into the air harshly. He looked away, his chest rising as he tried to control rising frustration. "I didn't mean to do that, I don't... I'm not gonna let that happen again." His words were starting to come out in a rush, escaping his control, something you knew never sat well with him.
"Well, that's my choice to make, Carmen, not one that you can make for me."
"Mars, The Beef isn't- you don't want to settle for this place, just trust me."
"How can I trust you when you've done nothing but push me away since I got here?" You heard the tremble that was growing in your own voice, a mix of hurt and anger. "You've told me a million times what I want and don't want. Have you ever stopped to ask me what I wanted? Seen my point of view?"
Carmen's breathing was picking up too, the crystals that were his eyes looking at you with a mixture of defiance and desperation. He ran a hand over his face.
"I've tried to see your point of view."
"Have you?" you snapped back.
"I gave you the job even though I knew it was a bad idea, I went against what I knew just because it was you and I let Richie convince me it was a good idea, and I am fucking done listening to Richie's ideas-" his breathing was becoming uneven as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.
"Hey, Richie's done a lot more to help me since I've gotten back than you have, and a lot more listening!" Now you were yelling, and he was yelling and you didn't like the direction this was going.
"Yeah, well did Richie tell you this place was hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt when Mikey gave it to me? Did he tell you we probably couldn't even afford to pay you a decent fucking salary?"
You opened your mouth, expecting to be equipped with a response as fast as the ones that came before, but that didn't happen and you didn't say anything. You let your eyes scan Carmen, searching for a hint that he wasn't serious, but he looked wholeheartedly sincere and angered. In fact, he looked like he was fighting to even breathe steadily.
You looked at him concernedly, taking a step closer, but he just continued, laughing to himself without joy. "He didn't fucking tell you. Of course not."
His breaths were harsh, coming from his nose and lifting his chest repeatedly. His arms slapped down at his sides, hands trembling. "See, that's why I fucking told him I didn't want you anywhere near this crap hole, I fucking told him-"
His yelling stopped. He recoiled, backing up into the counter recklessly, a pot falling behind him with a clang that had you flinching. His vision was pointed downwards towards the ground, but he was frowning so hard you were sure he couldn't see anything at all, hand to his chest, gripping.
"Carmen?" You asked, alarm suddenly overtaking you and washing away whatever anger had been bubbling inside of you. "Wh- are you okay?"
It took him a second to even process what you'd said, another to respond. "I'm fine, I-" you put a hand on his shoulder to brace him, feeling how tense it was, feeling it trying to move with the effort of his shallow breaths. Panic, shame, embarrassment, everything, seemed to claw at his chest, constricting his breathing even more. "I just- fuck, I can't- I can't-"
"You can't breathe," you said, understanding what was going on now with another flash of alarm that you hid, trying to stay calm. He nodded shakily.
"Carmen," you said steadily. To him, the sound of your voice was distant, overshadowed by the sound of his heart pounding loudly in his ears, muffled the way voices sounded when from underwater. Carmen knew he wasn't underwater. You called his name again, and he did his best to hear it. "You're having a panic attack."
He managed to shake his head again. "I'm fine. I just- shit." His legs practically gave out from underneath him and he braced one hand on the table behind him, one on your shoulder.
The sight of Carmen collapsing to the ground had you wanting to release a sob, but instead, you threw Carmen's arm around you and somehow managed to take two steps towards a bucket that was on the floor against a near wall and got him to sit down on it unsteadily.
You took both of his hands in yours, noticing how his shoulders shook, how the bottom of his neck tinted red from the straining effort to breathe.
"Carmen," you called, kneeling down to his level and giving his hands a squeeze. His vision was blurred, staring downwards, but the hazy sight of his hands wrapped up in yours gave his mind a moment's peace before he was struggling to focus again.
You took a deep breath in, feeling selfish that you even could. "Carm, do your best to look at me." You purposefully slowed your words, spoke softly and clearly, and Carmen heard. You took one hand and rested it by his cheek, hair pooling into your fingers. You brushed it back, and ran your thumb across the rise of his cheekbone, lifting his face to look upwards at you. Even when his mind could hardly form coherent thoughts, your touch still affected him like no one else's.
Once his eyes were on you, you took the hand that was still holding his and placed both on your own chest, covering the area of warm skin close enough to feel your heartbeat. A tremor rolled through him, at your hand, at the way you felt, at your touch.
You. You were here, he thought, and that was a comfort to him in itself.
"Here," you said, pressing down gently but firmly on his hand. "Can you feel my heartbeat?"
Carmen tried, really tried, but his head wasn't focusing no matter what he did. You noticed his struggle right away, like he didn't even have to form words for you to know.
Hurriedly, you took off your jacket and threw it to the ground beside you. Carmen heard the sound of a zipper before his hand was taken in yours again and placed on your chest. This time, the underside of his hand felt warmer, closer to you, to skin.
"How about now?" you asked. His eyes were shut, and he really did his best to focus this time, tune into you, into the way your chest moved up and down beneath his hand, and with it, he heard the soft and steadying rhythm of your heartbeat.
"Yeah, I- I feel it."
You let yourself smile slightly, trying to take slow and deliberate breaths. "Carmen, I need you to do your best to match your breathing with mine." You looked at him and the way his features were scrunching with the effort of trying to listen to you. "Can you do that for me?"
He nodded. He'd do anything for you.
He focused on only his hand, yours, and you. Your chest underneath his palm, warm, and steadying, and alive. He felt it rise once, and fall, all in the time that he let out multiple staggering breaths.
The next time yours rose, he didn't let himself exhale until you did, taking in air from his parted lips and releasing it through his nose, feeling how the air spread thin throughout his body, a good feeling. He did that again, focused on the way his fingertips grazed bare skin, on the sound of your heart beating, in time with his now.
Behind the blank nothingness of his eyelids, scenes played out before him. Visions of his past, echos of familiar voices, spurts of color and light overtaking him.
Then, he thought of you, of the warmth of your gaze, even if he didn't deserve it. The shine of your skin, the way it looked soft even in the harsh light of the kitchen. Thoughts of you, you with him, years ago, months ago, and days, how he'd seen you for the first time in months, standing behind the counter with a smile sweet like the chocolate bars you'd always liked, the one he'd left at your doorstep, a weak attempt at salvaging one of the best relationships he'd ever known. He'd buy a million more if it meant you'd stay with him, by his side, like you'd been for years. Like you were now.
He didn't know how much time had gone by, but he opened his eyes and you were still there, still holding onto him, face looking calm but eyes swirling with emotion. With concern.
He felt fine now, his body having enough strength to support him, but he leaned into you regardless, head sunk down, resting in the place beneath your chin, on your chest. He wanted to get as close to your heartbeat as possible, not just feel it with his hand but surround himself with it.
You brought your hands up to envelop him, one resting on the white cotton covering the hard muscles of his back, rubbing it soothingly, the other coming up to rest in his hair again, gently brushing through the strands closest to the root as if to say I'm here, I have you.
You leaned your own head down to slightly rest on the back of his, mouth brushing against the crown of his head in a way so delicate he wasn't even sure he felt it. But you saw the way he melted into your touch, felt the way the muscles in his back slowly seemed to release tension at each caress. He needed to be held. But he was him, he'd never ask for it. But, you were you, and you'd always know.
You stayed like that for minutes more, though you would've held him all night if he needed it. When he sat back up, the whites of his eyes were tinted pink, and one of his cheeks was gleaming in the light, damp. You didn't comment on it. You didn't say anything at all but stood up from where you knelt and walked towards the counters, peeking underneath them until you found what you needed. You stopped at the sink and returned to your spot in front of Carmen with a plastic deli container filled with water in hand. You offered it to him wordlessly.
"Thank you," he said, taking it from you gingerly, but his voice was hoarse and he felt the red heat of embarrassment as he took large sips of the water, draining it halfway at once. A water droplet escaped from the side of the cup, dripping down his chin, and your eyes followed the movement until you felt guilty about it and stared down at your own hands. The two of you let the silence rest as it was, peaceful and healing, until you felt ready to break it.
"I'm sorry," you said, slightly a surprise for yourself to hear the words from your mouth, but you meant them. Carmen sat back up. "For pushing you to this point. I didn't mean to-"
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Carmen spoke quietly, voice somehow steady. "It- ... that wasn't your fault. It's happened before, when you weren't here."
You let your eyes scan over his face concernedly because he wasn't looking straight at you and you always felt the need to look after him, even if he wouldn't let you.
"This has happened before?" Carmen gave a weak shrug, like this wasn't something he thought about on his own, something he ever let occupy his focus.
"Something like it."
You made a breathy sound of disbelief. "Shit, Carmen."
So many thoughts were demanding your attention, too many. You wanted to tell him how this wasn't supposed to be a normal occurrence, how not okay it was to ignore his mental well-being. Shake him silly for never caring about the right things, for never caring about himself enough. To give him yet another lecture on letting you help him, on letting anyone help him.
"It wasn't as bad this time." His voice paused all your thoughts. "I think it was because you were here."
You didn't know how to respond, but he finally looked into your eyes and saw how much they spoke for you, how they widened, and then blinked once or twice, shying away. Almost like you were guilty, like you were sad. Something inside of him reminded him that he was probably part of the reason for that, and that ate away at him more deeply than any of his, like you said, panic attacks, ever had.
"I'm sorry, Mars."
Your eyes flicked up to his immediately, intention behind them. "You never need to apologize for having a panic attack, Carmen."
"No, for- for not just that." He paused. "For being an ass. For yelling at you. For not listening to you."
You looked at him wordlessly. You didn't want to say it was okay, because you'd be lying if you said that, if you didn't acknowledge how his words still rang sharply in your head. But you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't admit that Carmen certainly made things feel okay when he was calm like this, understanding. Peaceful.
"And I'm sorry for all the shit I gave you about not listening to me."
You let out a quick breath, almost a laugh. "To be fair, I ... didn't."
His heart seemed to swell at even just the hint of laughter that coated your voice.
"Yeah. You don't listen to me." He let the side of his mouth quirk up to match yours. "That's the thing I love about you." Internally he thought, just one of many.
You stared up at him. At the way his eyes seemed to look over your face in adoration. It did something to your heart, pulled on the strings of it, and left it panging in your chest. He noticed right away.
"You alright?" His concern and furrowed brows almost made you want to laugh.
"Yes I'm-," you exhaled. "I'm fine. The real question is, are you alright?" He watched as your eyes flitted all around his face. "To be honest, you don't seem it."
He self-deprecatingly chuckled. "Wow, thanks, Mars."
You shook his arm a little bit, expression disbelieving. "I'm serious."
You thought about how tense he'd been underneath your touch, how tense he'd seemed for the many days that you'd been back home. How that couldn't be healthy for anyone.
"You need to start taking better care of yourself, Carmen." You made sure he was hearing your every word. "Your mental health is important. More important than any job. You have to stop worrying so much about The Beef and start worrying more about you."
He ran a tired hand over his eyes, immediately feeling the urge to look away. "If I didn't put as much as I did into this place, I don't even think it'd still be up and running."
You let the words hang between the both of you for a moment, knowing how important this was to him. It was important to you too.
"I know how much you've done for this place, Carm." You took his hand in yours again. "You care about it a lot, always have. I have too. But you know the toll it's taking on you. That's not good for anyone, and it'll only last so long. And ... that's why I think you should take any help you can get, for now."
As soon as the topic left your lips again, you felt his hand stiffen in your hand, mouth opening to argue, but you held up a hand.
"And before you say anything, I don't care about the full salary, I don't I care about traveling, or 'wasting my potential' or any of that. I care about helping this place, making sure it lasts, for Mikey." You breathed. "And for you. I care about you."
He could feel his own heart start to race in his chest, flustered like he hadn't known you for years, like you weren't one of his oldest friends.
"I care about you too," he said, and the words felt shamefully foreign on his tongue, thinking about how little he'd ever actually said the words. "That's part of why it's hard for me to think about you working here. You mean a shit ton to me. More than anyone else in this damn place."
"You don't mean that." You couldn't stop the way your brows pushed together, looking down at your hand that was holding Carmen's rough and callused ones. "What about Richie, or Fak, or Sydney-"
"They mean a shit ton to me too, but it's ... not the same. You're you."
He looked into your eyes, trying to see if you'd recognized his hints, but he picked up emotions other than the realization. On a frown, on reluctance, on a guarded, shy look.
"I'll always be me, Carmen." You bit at the inside of your cheek, putting off the topic like you weren't important. That was a foreign idea to him. "That doesn't matter. What matters is you not accepting help."
You saw the way his demeanor shifted at your words, a sense of uncomfortableness settling in his bones, revealing itself in the way he sat up straighter. Your grip on his hands was still firm, unwavering, like all you wanted was to make him understand.
"Carmen," you called, but he was already staring at you. "Promise me that you'll let other people take care of you, help you get by. Let me help you."
He was grateful for the way he was positioned, elbows leaning on knees, hands held by yours, because it was stabilizing him, grounding him when he felt like running. He knew that if he wanted to keep you around, keep you by him, he couldn't do that. That didn't change the fact that this was new to him.
"I, um,"
"It doesn't have to all at once." You gave him a smile, a real one, because you knew he was trying. Breaking out of old habits, for you. "One step at a time."
You were back home. Him pushing you away in his head, running, but only in his mind, didn't change that. He didn't want it to. Despite the pull of his mind telling him to hold you at a distance, the push of his heart wanted you. It was drawn to the cradle of your hands, the warmth of your smile.
"I promise."
Your smile grew to a grin that tugged at the sides of your glowing eyes, eyes that sparkled with affection like they held a hidden invitation, a plea for him to let you in. He finally did, and he knew so fully that he would've made that promise to you time and time again if it meant he could have you and see that smile as much as he wanted.
Your fingers brushed the back of his hands as you stood up from where you were kneeling, letting out an exhale that he noticed sounded almost weightless, a change from the burdened way it sounded to him before. The thought put him at ease.
He stood up too, watching you as you retrieved your jacket and put it on, him feeling the urge to help you with even just that. When you focused back on him, the etches of a smile still lingering on your face, it was magnetic. He couldn't look away. You couldn't either.
You stared at the way a hundred different colors danced in the blue of his eyes, a miraculous feat that you'd loved from the start. As you looked at each other, eyes saying more than your mouths had the courage to, your smile grew slowly, heartbeat picking up in your chest.
"Let me walk you to your car," you coaxed, gesturing towards the door. He laughed at the random idea, breaths escaping through his nose.
"What? Why?"
You shrugged, smile and features and everything, warm. "Call it the first step to you fulfilling your promise to me."
Knowing how he'd iced you out, he embraced that warmth. Made it his new home. "Yeah," he nodded. "Okay."
You gestured for him to follow you, he did, and that was all he had to do. You turned off the lights behind the both of you, locked the door, and didn't ask him to do a thing, just to see the amused look on his face when you smiled at him, his eyes staring back at yours like you were a wonder, something rare to be loved and kept safe.
As you walked back to his car, that was all he could think about. How he'd come across this ray of light in his life that was you, and how you'd stayed by his side, a miraculous idea but he didn't even want to dwell on that too much because it took him away from this moment being shared between the two of you, alone, the cold nipping at your skin but it not mattering because too much had happened that night to care.
The moment seemed to come to an end all too quickly. Carmen had stopped once you'd both reached his car, and you did too. He became aware of the feeling of you next to him, savoring it because he knew it'd end the moment he got into his car.
"Carmy," you said, extending the moment just a little longer. He hummed in response, watching as you stuffed your hands in your coat pockets.
"Can you promise me one more thing?"
He nodded, not missing a beat. " Yeah, anything." Something inside of you fluttered. You cast it aside to hold his gaze.
"Promise me you'll always try and tell me what's going on in your head. No more hiding."
His eyes bore into yours like he was contemplating something, a flicker of conflict in them, a vulnerability that you didn't know what to think of. Then, it was gone and you weren't even sure you'd seen it.
"Yeah, I- um," his jaw tightened for a second. "I promise, Mars."
You patted him on the shoulder, a friendly gesture that felt phony even to you. "Great ... that's great."
He flashed a closed-mouthed smile and you both stood there on the sidewalk for a moment, not saying a word.
"Goodnight," you told him, because it was what you would've said to anyone else at that moment, ignoring the whispers in your mind telling you something was missing, that Carmen wasn't just anyone else.
Something tugged at him too, nagging him, insisting that he had more to tell you, more to say before the night was really over, before he had to go to work the next day and somehow navigate his day with the new promises he'd made you. But all he said was "Goodnight, Mars," before getting in his car with just a wave goodbye that felt bare and wrong.
You left him one more of your smiles through the passenger window of his car before walking off to wherever you'd parked your own. He was sure he'd felt butterflies. Butterflies.
Only you could do this to him. He'd felt numb, overwhelmed and unsatisfied all the same time for however long, and then you come back to Chicago and suddenly he felt everything, all the time. It was getting to him, clearly, because he found himself opening his car door and stepping out of it, losing control of his body, loosening his grip of rationality all because of you. Because he wanted to see you, needed to. He needed you.
You were a good distance away from his car by the time he'd gotten out of his, but you turned around at the sound of the car door practically slamming. You frowned, noticing Carmen walking towards you.
"Carmen?" you called into the night, confused. He caught up with you, something behind his gaze that had his eyes shimmering. You swore you could feel the delicate movement of his eyes across your face as soon as he was near enough to truly take it in.
He took hold of your hand, fingers interlocking with yours delicately, an electrifying feeling buzzing through you. You let out a small gasp at the contact, vision shooting down at the point at which you both touched, just a hand hold but the contact took your full focus.
"Hey," he said, something like a smile creeping onto his features and you'd never seen him like this, so exhilarated and full of delicate determination. You looked back up into his eyes, and he took a step closer, finally letting himself be pulled by that magnetic force calling him to you that he couldn't resist. He wouldn't, anyway.
"Wh-," you started, meaning to question him but the thought was brushed aside when he leaned inwards, his forehead falling against yours. His curls brushed against the top of your head, and you secretly loved the feeling, becoming breathless.
"You can tell me to stop, Mars." He murmured it so close to you, breath fanning onto your cheek in a distracting but addictive way, and suddenly you were forgetting how to talk. It didn't matter, because you didn't want him to stop. You looked back up at him, and he saw that in your eyes, so he didn't.
His lips brushed against yours, a taste of what he'd been wanting for longer than he could even remember. The feeling it sent throughout him was immobilizing, and he stayed like that, eyes shut, reveling in it.
It was you who closed the distance, pressing your lips to his and letting the dizzying wave from it spread all over you, to the tips of your fingers that immediately reached up to hold his firm shoulders, and to your brain that buzzed in joy and excitement and a bit of something else.
He froze up for a second when he felt your lips crashing into his. Your lips on his felt like the answers to all his problems, and he needed them in a burning, unignorable way. His brows furrowed and his hands reached up to cradle your neck delicately, holding you like you were more valuable than anything he could've bought, anything he could've wished for, could've imagined he could possibly have.
His lips tugged on yours and yours tugged back, a rhythm that felt easy to follow, like the deep thrum of a heartbeat. And when you both finally pulled apart for air, it was like you could still feel that rhythm, because your heartbeats were beating so loudly and in time with each other's that it felt like the moment was never meant to come to an end.
Your foreheads were still connected, and you knew neither of you had it in you to pull away. You felt somehow even more breathless.
"What was that for?" Your voice was soft, hoarse. You swore you saw Carmen's lip quirk upwards.
"I promised to not hide what was going on in my head." Your hands came up to delicately wrap around his biceps, impossibly solid underneath your fingertips. He didn't suppress the shudder that traveled through him. "Call that the first step."
You smiled, this time against his lips, and somehow that beat every single smile you'd ever given him before. It felt like a promise of your own, to share your warmth with him from now on. He liked the idea, a lot. He'd let you do it whenever you wanted, he liked it that much.
He'd let you take care of him whenever you wanted, too. Again and again, until you got sick of him. But he was Carmen Berzatto. You knew you never would.
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