#i like to think it's cos he's never had a sibling so he's just trying not to lose you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

periprose · 9 months

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Fly Away

Michael Berzatto x Reader

You're a family friend of the Berzattos and you're invited to have fun at their annual Christmas dinner. You think you still harbor feelings for Carmy, but as the evening progresses, you feel something for his brother.

Genre: friends to lovers, former crush on carm, really everything w carm is mostly platonic, unrequited stuff, insecurities, age gaps (reader and carm are 25, Michael is 38), takes place in 2017, takes place in S2E6, lots of angst, anxiety, some fluff, no use of y/n (you have a nickname: Birdie)

Word count: 11k

There’s a bauble and trinket everywhere you look. Festive, Christmas spirit seems to ebb from the very walls of the Berzatto household– and you would be remiss not to compliment it vocally in some way.

Donna is clearly waiting, teetering on a response from you as you take everything in from the front door. And you know how she reacts if you don’t say things in that perfect, supportive tone that she so desperately thrives off of.

“Wow, Mrs. Berzatto!” You clasp your hands, trying not to seem too cloying or ironic. “I love what you’ve done with the house. Such an eye for details.”

“Oh, stop.” She giggles, and lightly taps your shoulder as she takes your coat and hangs it up in the closet.

“No, really. I wish my house was so… Christmassy this time of year.” You shrug, knowing that your dad isn’t the festive type after divorcing your mother.

“Aw. Well, we have love to spread here.” It’s a strange unseen sympathy coming from Donna, and she pulls you inside, and you take off your shoes, shuffling around in your socks and your comfy, hopefully chic, green loose turtleneck sweater. “Except you might have to wait a bit, because some of these fuckers are late.”

There’s that bitter tone you remember from Donna. You don’t really care for that– you tend to have an avoidant personality especially with how your own mother acts sometimes– and she yells out for Carmy and Mikey to greet you.

“Boys! Birdie’s here!” She calls from the stairs, and you suddenly feel self conscious.

Ever since your dad, a former co-worker and friend of Cicero’s, starting taking you as a teenager to these Berzatto hangouts, you have always had a eye for Carmen. It was hard not to be, seeing this bashful, slightly angry, awkward boy, around the same age as you, with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. You felt like sometimes, he really, really listened to you, and that was all you needed.

You wish you could be there for him too.

It’s something you’ve never acted on, never bothered to actually approach him about– he always seemed so absorbed by his own thing.

You relished in the fact that he never had a girlfriend. You felt secure in that, because he just seemed safe. And it’s not like he would’ve been mean about rejecting you if he knew– you were always close to the Berzatto siblings. You were Bear and Birdie, ready to head out on a walk together, while the adults gossiped and drank.

Of course, you haven’t seen him in about… two years now. Around after he left to his apartment, and did his chef-education-training (you’re a bit vague on the details, honestly), and ever since then, as far as you know he’s slowly been doing what he loves. He does text you from time to time, but you’d be overstating those texts’ importance if you pretended it really quantified a relationship.

Mikey clambers down the stairs, wearing what looks to be pajamas, or very chill homebody clothes, and he raises his arm in a big, Italian gesture.

“Oh! Is that little Bird I see?” He exclaims, and pulls you into an eager hug. Maybe a little too eager– you think it’s almost as if you’re comforting him as you hug him back, his face coming down onto your shoulder, as he encapsulates you– and he pulls away, grinning.

He actually looks really good. You don’t know when you started thinking that Mikey was good looking, but it’s true– he has a certain, rough around the edges appeal that you find yourself drawn to.

“Merry Christmas. You’ve been keeping away from us.” Mikey points as you, intended as a stern remark, but you snort.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas. I’ve been busy with work and law school, Michael. I’m not a kid anymore.” You resist the urge to comment on his beard, and then do it anyways. “Are you sure I’ve been keeping away? You’re the one with a hermit-ass beard.”

“Oh… they grow up and just start taking shots at you, don’t they, Ma?” Mikey places his hand over his heart, as if he’s wounded, and Donna shakes her head in agreement, before heading back to the kitchen, already seeming annoyed about something. “Beards are fashionable in 2017, Bird. Maybe come back to our current time– no reason for you to start dressing like a grandma already.”

You scoff at that, pointing at your sweater. “It’s semi-formal, c’mon! It looks nice. Respect the gathering’s rules.”

“It’s my house, babe.” Mikey leans in with maybe a little too much comfort, his eyes shining with some warmth, mirth even, and you don’t exactly pull away– the guy is like thirteen years older than you, and even if he does kid around, play up an older brother thing, you’ve started feeling like he’s restraining something more as of late, maybe some primal level of attraction that he knows better than to mess around with. You know that the feeling is kind of mutual– but you really don’t know how to quantify it. “I’m man of the house, and I say you should wear something that maybe, uh, shows off the pretty twenty-five year old that you are.”

The last part of this sentence has you swallowing a little, and you feel your face turning warm, and Mikey himself looks embarrassed that he’s said it, that he’s given a bit of evidence to your theories– he seems to brush something off, inside himself.

You have never thought you were all that. You’ve always been pretty sure you should be glad that you’ve gotten by without having to worry about your looks. The idea of wearing a nice, somewhat revealing dress to the Berzattos’ house has you cringing, because you know it would just be… bad.

“I’m not–” Mikey scowls at himself and you can visibly see himself fighting something, looking a little anxious, and you tentatively grasp his forearm.

“I know what you mean. I’m not offended.” You smile slightly, making the effort to calm him down a little, because you would never want Michael to beat himself up over you (he really seems to do that as of late and you know you’re not worth the trouble), and he nods and inhales. “You look good, too.”

“Right. Right on, Birdie. You can do what you want, anyways. Not up to me.” He seems to really dial back some of what he said, and before you can respond, Carmy walks downstairs.

“Hi. Hey, Birdie. Merry Christmas.” He says, kind of quietly, and you find yourself somewhat happy to hear him say your nickname again. Carmy looks especially nice– deep blue has always been his colour, it brightens up his eyes– and he has slightly longer hair than you remember.

He leans in for a brief but firm hug, and glances at your eyes once, before looking towards the floor again.

Mikey nods and proceeds to exit to the kitchen, and you’re left with Carmy grappling with what to say.

“How have you–”

“How’s law sch–”

Carmy coughs awkwardly, and you find your face turning warm as he looks towards you.

“Sorry, Bear.” You let him speak, hoping not to scare him away. “How’s everything? You okay?”

“Yeah. Uh… well, I’ve been training at Copenhagen?” He furrows his brows, runs his hand through his hair. “Just learning as much as I can.”

“Oh. Uh-huh.” Your curiosity is piqued– you didn’t know he was in Denmark, much to your disappointment– but you want to pry more of an answer out of him. He doesn’t seem interested in talking about it more than that.

“Sorry. Sorry. Stupid answer, there’s just not much to say.” Carmy shrugs, and then realizes suddenly that you’ve been standing at the foyer of the house for quite some time now, which isn’t very polite or inviting of him. “Wait, hold on. Let’s go sit inside and talk.”

Carmy makes some offhand comment about how you need to speak up sometimes and stop being so nice and accommodating to idiots like him, and you snicker, knowing that this is the Carmy you remember– snarky, ready to fight people on sometimes, even if he is a little weird and bashful. Although he’s short– he makes up for it with his resilience.

Carmy leads you through golden-lit hallways, a certain pepperminty, pine tree scent seeming to overlay the entire house, and there’s bushels and wreathes and mistletoe everywhere, and somehow even more baubles, ornaments, trinkets, knickknacks, all gold and red and warm tones that do make you feel a little fuzzy.

Carmy sits you down in the living room, on the sofa, and you’re next to him, and you place a foot under your knee, trying to feel casual. Not freaking out about him sitting right next to you. Weirdly enough… you don’t think you feel anything anxiety inducing.

Perhaps you’re just getting more reassured of yourself with age.

“So? How is Copenhagen, otherwise? I know Denmark is really interesting, but you’re probably busy with chef stuff, huh?” You prod just a little further. Just out of your own personal curiosity to see how far Carmy will go for you, and he nods. “Any friends?”

“Ah…” Carmy winces a little. “Can’t say if he’s a friend yet, but there is this guy that’s out of this world with pastries. I don’t know if I can meet his standard on that.”

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. “Bear, you make my dad cookies all the time. Or, well, you used to. You can’t be that bad at it, considering that he always eats all of them.”

“Oh, really? Fuck, man.” Carmy looks at you in disbelief, settling more into his corner of the couch, closer to the tree, but looking more openly at you. You feel yourself cower a little under his watchful gaze. “I didn’t know your dad enjoyed them that much… I would’ve made more. Did you ever try them?”

“Hm?” You were getting lost in the details around Carmy– the dark blue shirt, the little bits of stubble around his jaw, the tattoos peeping out from under his long sleeves– and you nod. “Ah, I tried a batch around the last time you gave him some. I think it was… macadamia, matcha, white chocolate? Really good.”

Carmy is unreadable, his eyes flickering from the ground to your eyes– you think maybe you’ve embarrassed him a little– but he thanks you. “Where is your dad, anyways?”

“Ah. He’s got the flu, and he was kind enough to not want to infect you guys.” You admit. “Even though he was trying his best to walk over here from our house.”

Carmy remembers that you live in the neighbourhood over. You two used to hang out a lot during elementary and high school. He kind of missed you– something he’d never say out loud, but Carmy knows friends are few with him, and you were always a good friend to him growing up. You were always a comforting presence for him– you never asked him for too much, and he could tell you were being careful to do so. No pressure.

You just became really busy with law school, and he became really busy with chef stuff, and now you’re both… you both just lost touch. He feels bad about it– bad like he always does, with former friends and acquaintances from high school that he’s accidentally ghosted and lost– but at least you don’t seem to be annoyed about it.

He thinks it’s probably because in this case, you pulled away just as much as he had to.

“How’s law school, anyways?” Carmy counts the years in his head. “You’ve either just finished or you’re in your final year?”

“I’m in my final year.” You stretch out your arms, looking eager. “It’s a lot of work– I’m only here because I’m lucky enough to have a bit of a break in the winter months, and I’m ahead on my courses. But, uh… I don’t know. It’s fun.”

“Fun? Wow.” Carmy grins a little.

“What?”

“I don’t know, Birdie. Fun is more… fucking, I don’t know, fireworks or something? Drugs, maybe, yeah.” Carmy watches as you laugh, and laugh, at what he’s said, and again he’s never really sure what’s so funny about what he’s said, but he likes to hear you laugh.

“Clearly you don’t know either.” You snort, and lightly punch his arm. “When did we become workaholics?”

“Probably when we became, uh, adults and entered the workforce.” Carmy states, and you wrinkle your brows.

“We’re not really in the workforce yet, but–”

“What, really? C’mon. You’re a fucking receptionist or some shit, right?”

“Business administration specialist.”

“Yeah, there you go. That’s work, especially with all the school you have to do.” Carmy shrugs. “But what do you really want to be, then?”

“Oh, we getting into dreams, then?” You cock an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t think you cared that much, Bear.”

Carmy, for some reason he can’t detect, turns a little red. “No, of course I do. We’re still friends, right?”

“Acquaintances.”

“For real?” Carmy looks back at you, affronted, but you have a little smile and he knows you’re teasing. “Oh fuck you. Stop it.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You shake your head, giggling a little, glad to have so easily fallen back into a comfortable, friendly banter. “Of course we’re friends, it’s just that… I always thought very highly of you, Carmen, and I can’t always be sure that feeling was returned. You know? I assumed that you’d be out doing sophisticated cooking in big, upscale restaurants, and the rest of us would just be reading about it. Forgive me for feeling a little behind it all.”

“No, no, no. You got it all wrong, Birdie.” Carmy half-laughs at how you put him on such a pedestal. “You were always the one doing real work, as Mom would call it. You’re the one who’s actually smart and good at arguing, debating– that’s a real skill coming from me, because I just yell fuck at everyone and hope it works. I always thought you were the impressive one out of all of us.”

You snicker, but you’re actually quite pleased with that, and you feel your heart warm at his praise. “Ah, that’s so sweet. Thank you. If it makes you feel better, I’ve been surviving off of ramen and convenience store food for the last month. I can hardly make the time to cook efficiently.”

“...” Carmy shakes his head. “That doesn’t make me feel better. You’re gonna eat good food today then, I hope.”

Almost as if on cue, Donna calls for Carmy to come help her with something– and you’re left sitting as he tells you that he’s going to hear about your dream job when he gets back.

Fifteen minutes later– Carmy is still MIA, and you’re starting to get a little hungry.

You know it’s rude, but luckily Michael comes by and asks if you want a snack.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” You ask, and Michael snickers.

“You’re the same girl that can eat a whole number four combo at the Beef. I’m pretty sure you were hungry before you got here.” Michael jokes, and you blush in embarrassment.

“Oh my god, stop it.” You shake your head. “Anyways, yeah. A snack would be nice.”

Michael gives you a wink that strangely has you a little twitterpated, before you shake that off. He comes back a few minutes later, chewing on something himself– and he hands you a bowl full of Italian sausage stirfry.

“Thanks, Michael.” You smile up at him, and he nods, trying not to smile too much back at your gratitude, but he likes how you take a bite and look super relieved, happy with the food. He’s always loved giving food to people– taking care of them. Especially you, for some reason.

Michael heads back to the kitchen, and Natalie comes by and takes his place.

“Birdie!” She hugs you tightly, and you hug her back, equally happy. “Oh my gosh, if I knew you were down here I would’ve come by ages ago!”

“Aw.” You beam at her. “That’s okay, Nat. I’m happy to see you too.”

She’s off ranting about how Pete, her husband, is late, and how she can barely manage everything going on, and you’re sympathetic. You know Nat gets more of a harsh treatment from Donna, and you tell her that you’re there if she needs a person on her side.

“Oh, Birdie. I couldn’t do that to you. Even if you are amazing at talking, Miss Lawyer-to-be.” She lets you continue to sit down in your corner of the living room, as she heads off to check on her mom– maybe pour out some alcohol.

Carmy comes back in, slightly powdered with flour on his forehead– and he sits back down, sighing, as he drinks a glass of water.

There’s the slightest air of awkward tension still– even if you and Carmy have fallen back into your old ways, he still keeps a slight distance, one that he’s grown into, and you feel that you have to break the silence. You don’t know if he’s just tired or if there’s some level of irritation of having to deal with all the holiday bullshit, but you take a guess it has to do with Donna.

“That bad?” You grimace, and Carmy matches your expression.

“That bad.” He shakes his head. “She always gets a little woo-woo around these fucking events. Like, I never wanted her to do all of this– but she insists and insists and doesn’t know how to let go of the, uh…”

“Hubris.”

“Yes. Hubris.” Carmy sighs, glad you still have the perfect word for everything. “Whatever. Anyways, haven’t forgotten. Hit me with your dream.”

“Okay, it’s going to sound a little weird, but, um… I’m really interested in becoming a labour relations lawyer?” You feel almost too much glee at the fact that Carmy remembered, and you see Carmy bite his lip, a little confused, so you continue, hoping you don’t sound like too much of a fucking nerd. “Meaning to help employees get out of their shitty situations with wages, working hours, benefits and fight for their rights. Union stuff. I don’t know, just feels like everyone is struggling with this nowadays… might as well push forward and try to help them out.”

“Wow, now that you’ve said that, it makes a lot of sense.” Carmy blinks. “I mean, uh, it’s not just that you’re good at arguing– you always go for the justice part of things. Remember when Michael and Sugar were arguing about cleaning the basement?”

You do remember that. You suggested dividing up either equally or by who owned what, and they eventually came to an agreement based on that. Michael wanted to dip because he was older, and Sugar thought it was demeaning to ask a girl to clean.

“Or when Lee said that women can’t think analytically, or what was it… mathematically?” Carmy laughs as he watches your face turn angry again.

“Yeah. I especially remember that. I told him to think about Ada Lovelace and to shut up.” You wince. “Maybe not the most mature thing I’ve ever said. I don’t think that’s such a great thing… sometimes I don’t know when to let go of arguments.”

“It’s alright, it was funny.” Carmy plays with his fingers. “That being said, I think you’ll be good if you choose to be that. A labour relations lawyer. You’re smart, and god fucking knows we all need the help. You should check out how many chefs get fucked over because they work at places for the prestige of doing so.”

“Damn.” You make a mental note of that, feeling embarrassed over how much praise Carmy has freely given you. “Is that going to be you?”

“Doesn’t matter if it is. Sometimes you gotta do what you can.” Carmy doesn’t really give you a clear answer, and you feel bad for him. Bad that he’s still stuck in that mindset.

You can hear people hooting and jeering near the stairs, as you walk around the house, exploring a little. Tiff was grateful that you visited her for a brief moment– she told you being pregnant was not all it was cracked up to be– and now you’re just on the upper floor, near the stair railing, on your phone.

You’re not really one to eavesdrop, but you hear– you believe it’s Mikey and Richie– they’re chanting “Claire! Claire Bear!”

Your stomach drops, as you hear them hoot about how hot she is, whoever this Claire girl is– how stacked she is, apparently, the banging body she has, the glasses no longer ruining her appearance– and although you know it’s gross men talk, there’s a small, sad part of you that wants to be perceived as attractive, too.

Still, even as you find yourself frowning and turning away in disgust, you can’t stop yourself from listening.

You remember her. Claire, one of the neighbours down the street. Went to the same high school as you and Carmy. She was really something, someone of note if you remember the popular kid cliques correctly, but she had largely gone unnoticed by you, and it wasn’t for any reason in particular. You can’t be close with every person in high school.

But still– you feel jealous. Just a teeny bit. What was so different about her?

Sure, she was a nice girl. But weren’t you? You arguably had more history with the Berzattos, and yet… it’s as if you’ve simply blended into the wallpaper, their assortment of home decor and furniture. You’ve always been here, and so you don’t stand out.

You might never stand out.

You can hear Carmy trying his best to argue against them, asking them what they did, telling them to fuck off with their teasing– but he sounds sheepish, embarrassed, righteously mortified in the telltale way one would be when they have a crush, and you feel sick.

They’re heaping compliments on her. You know what they mean when they talk about her like this– she’s the clear, obvious choice, probably closer to the family, more interesting, more affectionate, a genius. You don’t really know Claire that well, but apparently, she’s perfect. And you know you, in your silly frumpy sweater, in your attempts to dress up– you are not. You feel humiliated that you even believed Mikey when he said you were pretty– he was clearly complimenting you just to be nice.

You weren’t even an idea in their minds, not for Carmy, anyways. You don’t even think Carmy is capable of seeing you like that now, and it’s with a crushing blow that you realize you were holding out hope. Mistaking familiarity for affection.

It’s a rookie mistake. One that you thought you were self aware enough not to make, because you’ve always known Carmen Berzatto was just out of reach for you.

You wait for them to leave, and come down the stairs, running into Carmy as he groans in annoyance.

Carmy says he needs to wipe some of the flour out of his hair, and you let him go upstairs, not really wanting to look at him, doing everything you can to make your way back to the living room unnoticed. In the meanwhile, Michael comes back and flops into Carmy’s seat on the sofa, next to where you sit, sullen.

“Hey, Birdie.” Michael starts, and you can’t read his tone, and you’re a little annoyed with his fake-nice attention. “Why not sit with me, the Faks, Michelle and Stevie? They’re really good people, I promise.”

“How do you know I’m avoiding people?” You snap back, maybe a little too aggrieved.

“It’s written all over your face, little Birdie.” He touches his knee to yours, and you bite your lip, swallowing your confusion, and Mikey enjoys the fact that you’ve chosen to wear a deep, brick-red Christmas lip colour. It’s hot– he doesn’t get how you don’t seem to be aware that you’re attractive.

He wants to kiss you. Maybe mess up that fancy lipstick and that sweet, annoyingly justice oriented, always-right character of yours. But he keeps it to himself.

“Don’t be antisocial. You of all people shouldn’t be alone during the holidays.”

“I’m not trying to be antisocial. I promise.” You shrug, trying to keep your emotions, that sinking feeling in your gut at bay– the last thing you want is for Michael to see you upset. “I was keeping Bear company, but I can come sit with you guys.”

“That’s my girl.” Michael pulls you up by the arm, and you can feel your face warming at his choice of words– you like being in Michael’s good graces, even if you feel less than great right now.

Michelle, cousin of the Berzattos, has always been sweet to you. She’s impressive in her own right, and as you sit down in front of her and Stevie– she gushes about New York.

“Ah, that’s not to say Chicago isn’t impressive. Right, Birdie?” She smiles at you, not unkindly, and you feel happy to be included.

“Right.” You shrug, knowing that the law firm you work at isn’t all that crazy. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re nothing special, not after what transpired just a few minutes ago, and you voice it. “It’s just okay.”

“No, c’mon. You work at one of the top fucking law firms in the city– you’re gonna make it.” Michael admonishes you. “Out of us Chicagoans, I mean, Michelle, before you take offense.”

“Yeah, Mish.” Richie echoes, popping up out of nowhere.

“None taken.” Michelle fixes her eyes between you and Michael– perhaps reading on something that you’re not even really sure how to understand, let alone explain– and she laughs. “Anyways, what was I saying? Right.”

She launches into a story about hating a woman who didn’t understand the Berzatto name. It’s quite funny– you find yourself laughing every now and then, the dull ache in your heart less noticeable, especially with how good Michelle is at telling stories, and somewhere along the story, Michael’s hand has stayed intertwined with yours, without you really noticing. You only notice when he lets go, and again– a pitfall in your stomach, wondering if Michael just feels familiar around you because there’s nothing to be attracted to and thus respectful of– and it’s such a stupid thought, but you still just know you want to feel wanted. You want to get a hold on yourself– remind yourself you’re not owed attraction and there’s nothing wrong with Mikey or Carmy seeing you as just a friend.

You realize with a start that you’re feeling confused about Michael, too. Was it just a weird quirk of his, calling every single girl pretty just for laughs? Could you even trust what he said? Why does Michael’s opinion of you feel way more pertinent and important than Carmy’s does?

You find yourself mulling over these thoughts, not sure of what’s going on around you, and you hear Michael tell the Fak bros, Ned and Ted, to shut up about California, which they do.

Donna starts screaming in the background, which causes you to turn abruptly. “Oh, fuck me!”

Michael turns and looks at you with some caution– he’s used to his mother’s outbursts, but he never ever wants you to face them. You don’t deserve that, you’ve probably never done anything to deserve it. Not like him.

Stevie gets up, much to the surprise of everyone around him. “Looks like Auntie D needs help, huh?”

“No, no, no.” Everyone tries to stop him, including you.

“What?”

Michelle pushes him back down, but he gets back up, resilient.

Lee decides to comment in. “Let him, why not?”

“I’m sure she could use a few extra hands. I’m going.” He goes, and you stand up to follow, not willing to let an innocent person get dragged into Donna’s insanity.

“Wait, Birdie. Where are you going?” Michael holds your hand again, and you turn red at his action– a little angry, a little glum that he seems to care for you, and you can’t even be grateful for it. “Don’t throw yourself to the wolves. It’s not fucking worth it.”

“Not throwing myself– just want to make sure Stevie is protected.” You move forward, your face stony, and Michael lets go of you, sighing as he wraps his blanket around himself, wondering when you got all pissed off, but glad that you’re not so upset that you wouldn’t act all lawyer-y for Stevie.

Lee is glancing at him, while Michelle looks pleased as punch.

“What? What the fuck are these expressions?” Michael looks around questioningly, and Richie gives him a side glance.

“When’d you get all sweet on her, bro?” Richie gags a little. “Not that she’s not your type, but, uh–”

“I’m just being friendly.” Michael dismisses him, leaning back in his seat. “It’s the holidays, she shouldn’t be lonely.”

“Bullshit you are.” Richie sniggers, and Michael lightly shoves him.

“Yeah, I call bullshit too.” Michelle grins. “I can see it– you’re blushing.”

Michael groans, hating to be so obviously vulnerable in front of everyone.

“Well I, for one, think it’s a huge, fucking catastrophic mistake.” Lee starts, and Michael feels himself blanch under the judgement of this guy. “You’re going to ruin that young woman’s potential if you go around messing with her.”

“Lee, she’s not that young–” Neil starts. “I think she can decide that herself?”

“Whatever. This one knows he isn’t right for her– always wants what he can’t have.” Lee mutters, and Michael feels that white-hot rage– the anger he feels bubbling inside of him as of late.

He does his best to swallow it down, but a part of him knows that it’s true. As much as Michael enjoys your random visits over the past two years, he knows– you’re too good for someone like him. Too young, too selfless, too honest and good and pretty, and he feels an overwhelming wave of shame that he came so close. It’s like he just… doesn’t know how to be a good, responsible person, and it kills him on the inside that he could be so shameful, be so abhorrent and take advantage of you like that, and even if there is a tiny part of him screaming that it’s not so black and white– that you could be just as interested, of your own volition, in him as he is in you– he feels guilt.

Michael is ashamed of who he is. Over, and over, there’s that feeling again– kill yourself– that he doesn’t know how to suppress, and he ignores it as he starts up a new story.

Natalie is tearing up as Stevie hugs her.

You came towards them in the midst of Donna yelling for Stevie to get the fuck out of the kitchen, and Sugar shushing him and shoving him away, and you now place a hand on her shoulder– clearly Stevie has it handled, somewhat.

When he lets go, she sniffles and you smile encouragingly, albeit a little sadly, and Natalie wipes away a tear.

“It’s okay. It’s fine, it’s nothing. You don’t need to talk to her.” She starts, and you shake your head.

“I’m not going to. I can see that would make things worse.” You squeeze her shoulders, and Stevie nods.

“Yeah, Natalie. But we’re here. We’ll always be here if you want to talk.” He tries, and you smile at her– but something about Nat’s slightly upset, off putting expression, and Donna’s grumbling in the background– you feel your heart seizing a little at the tense emotions, so similar to your own, and you excuse yourself.

You walk until you reach the pantry, hot tears already working their way down your face. Every single negative emotion have come to a head, and you’re in terrible danger of having to explain things if you don’t get it together in under ten minutes or so.

You sit on the high table in the pantry, trying not to cry anymore than you already have, your head between your knees– but something about today has all your nerves on edge, and you know it’s because you put in some effort to come here, to see your dear friends, to look appealing enough, to be someone worth talking to, and now you feel as if they never really cared about you at all.

You know these are lousy, immature feelings. You know you can be above them if you really, truly tried, but you let yourself sink into them further, because something about this environment is terrible and you just can’t let it go.

Even worse, no one has really done anything wrong. If this was a court case, you wouldn’t even have any evidence to make a claim. You’re simply confused, perhaps looking at things from the wrong angles– but the fact that you can’t look at this rationally makes you feel worse. As if you’re not as smart as you believed.

You don’t know how long you’ve been in here, when you hear someone shuffle into the pantry, next to you– it’s Michael.

He’s quick on his feet– you try to move away, let him grab whatever household ingredient he needed– but his full attention is on you as his eyes narrow, scanning your tear stained face and your hunched over body.

“Birdie?”

You can’t quite look at him, and you desperately try to wipe your tears, burying your face more between your knees.

“Hey, no. Birdie.” He shakes his head, grabs your arms. He thinks it’s a little strange he’s had to cheer up two different people in the pantry, but he chalks it up to how his house always is. “What happened? Was it Ma?”

“No.” You sight and swallow down the sobs in your throat.

“Then what was it?” Michael’s eyes turn steely. “Fucking ‘Uncle’ Lee? Asshole. Told me I can’t finish any fucking businesses.”

“But… you run the Beef, don’t you?” You say, amid sniffles, entirely honest about it, and Michael’s eyes soften. “That has to count for something.”

“Yeah, little Bird.” He’s glad to have you here– he doesn’t care if it’s fucked up, not when you’re the only person on his side at this moment. “But why don’t you tell me what’s up?”

“I–” You shake your head, and feel your head hang heavy as you slouch over the table, and Michael leans over you, pressing your head to his chest, and you feel yourself crying silently into his shirt, as he shushes you and combs back your hair, his other arm caressing your back.

Michael’s not the best person– not the most comforting to be around– but he knows, by being an older brother, by being someone people want to be around, he knows how to make it count when he does give in to comfort.

He just wishes he didn’t feel so goddamned depressed himself, so he would know the right things to say. He doesn’t want to be so useless all the time.

“Mikey?” You voice is timid. Small.

He feels both elated that you would trust him with this, and devastated that he’ll never be good enough to deserve your trust.

“Yeah, Birdie?”

“It’s so juvenile, but I…" You shake your head and decide to commit to it. "I wish I was pretty."

“Is that it?” Michael’s arm wraps around your shoulder as he squishes onto the seat of the table, next to you. “You think you’re ugly, huh?”

“I don’t think I’m–” You inhale deeply, and wipe away your tears again. “It’s not about being ugly. It’s more like an objective reality that I have to accept. I’m just not… I’m not anything special to look at.”

“Wow, kid.” Michael tuts and shakes his head. “Ever heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? That stupid fucking mantra, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s true.” Michael almost starts laughing, but you look so solemn and serious, he resists the urge. “You’re not ugly. You might not think you’re all that, but you don’t see what I see.”

Michael tenses, and you watch as he falters over how to explain.

Michael thinks you're so damn annoying with that ardent, sweet expression– even if your tears are staining your face, you still look so grateful to hear him say those words– and it just crushes him. It crushes him to know that you look for his approval so much, when he knows you're worth so much more than that.

He doesn't want to let you down. You and Carmen– he will never be enough for the two of you.

"I don't– I'm fucking stupid, Birdie, don't listen to me." He swallows, but you're hanging onto his words and your face falls again.

"But I can listen to you get all poetic about Claire, right?" You mutter, angry, and you get up to leave– but Michael grabs your forearm, and he's quite a bit stronger than you are.

“Hey. That’s different.” Michael tries, but you shake your head, and you’re left sitting on the table again. “I was only teasing Bear. It has nothing to do with you.”

“I know.” You turn even more glum, and Michael is left feeling terrible, wondering what was so wrong with what he said.

You’re silent for a moment– you know that you like Carmy, but something about telling Michael about it feels weird, like you’re pre-emptively rejecting him rather than Carmy by confessing feelings that are slowly disappearing– and you just don’t want to.

But you know you need to. You need to accept that Carmy would never see you that way.

“I just… for a really long time, I thought that I…” You fall to silence, again, and Michael is staring at you, hanging onto every word, watching your side profile shake as you try to gather your thoughts. “I really liked him, you know? I don’t even know why– maybe he was just the clearly available, safe option, and now that’s not even true and I feel like I’m mourning something that was never even real. How stupid and childish can I get?”

“Wait, Birdie–”

“And I just… I know I’m not like Claire. I don’t know what I got myself into. I don’t even really like him anymore– it’s just that the situation makes it so damn apparent that I am just average.” You huff out your words with an air of finality that even has Michael flinching a little, and he runs his hands through his hair, unbelieving of what you’ve said. “You can’t even say I’m not, Mikey, because I know how you talked about her and it was just so different to how anyone here has ever thought about me.”

“Birdie, shut the fuck up.” Michael breathes out really heavily, pinching his brows, thinking that he regrets everything he said and he wishes he could take it back. “I didn’t really– I was trying to tease Carmy, you know? It didn’t mean the shit you think it does. Hell, I would be way more serious if I was talking about you.”

He takes a beat of silence– should he read your reaction to that, or keep going? And he decides to keep going.

“You can’t just act like you can read everyone’s minds because you’re a lawyer, Birdie.” Michael says it with a slightly lighter tone, and his hand traces the small of your back as you lean against your knees, staring up at him. “Didn’t you learn about intent or whatever the fuck it was? In school?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You admit despite yourself, and Michael smiles but continues seriously.

“I don’t think that about Claire, okay? If anything, I’m fucking embarrassed you heard me talk all of that shit– that was just meant to be, uh, guy talk. I swear.” Michael swallows, feeling guilty that he still had to be so low about it. “I don’t– I care so much about him, I just went too far in working him up. I think it would be a good thing for him, right?”

Hurt flashes across your face– you still don’t think you like Carmy anymore, you just don’t know how to feel about someone else being portrayed as a “good thing.” But you inhale– you know part of getting over it is having to accept this, and you let yourself think and then nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, I could see that.” You agree, and it doesn’t hurt as much since Michael is looking at you sympathetically. “I just… I want to be a good thing, too. Not for Carmy, just…”

“For someone?” Michael answers as you trail off.

“Yeah.”

“Listen, Birdie. I’m gonna tell you something you gotta hear.” Michael has that determined look where you know he’s going to say something smart– he has his fleeting moments of wisdom even if he doesn’t believe in himself– and he goes for it. “I can’t believe no one has ever told you just to, I don’t know, fucking love yourself a little? Like, c’mon, you should be able to like yourself! You’re an incredible person and you deserve– you have the right to be insanely fucking confident and it’s so fucking annoying that you don’t see it.”

In the heat of his argument, Michael’s come too close again, and he can feel your breath on somewhere near his jaw or neck, and he has to remind himself to pull away again.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, and Michael combs back a strand of your hair.

“Don’t be sorry. Just listen to what I’m saying.” Michael inhales, thinks over why he can’t do this himself– Tina always tells him to be a little easier on himself, but he just struggles– and he thinks that you look terribly cute so it’s just a lot easier to root for you. “Don’t do it for some idiot guy who will never really appreciate you, little Birdie.”

You can feel the conclusion of that sentence, even if Michael doesn’t quite say it: do it for yourself. Be there for yourself. Listen to the good part of yourself, rather than him.

“Oh. I guess that’s…” You swallow, taking it in, knowing the value of his words. “It’s true.”

“See? You know it.” Michael leans in a little too close again, his face a mere breadth away from your own.

“I think you’d actually make a fantastic lawyer.” You slyly comment amid wiping your face, and Michael blinks and then laughs.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you’d get to see me and hear my advice all the time.” Michael mumbles a little over his words but to his surprise, you nod.

“Yeah, then I’d get to see some idiot who really does appreciate me.” You murmur even more quietly, and Michael, feeling stupid, has a wistful smile on his face that he maybe has not felt in a decade. It’s so sweet– he thinks his heart is bursting with something.

Maybe love. Maybe that jovial, Christmas spirit that seems to emanate as the food smells closer to ready, maybe what Carmen gave him as a kind gift, most likely the closeness he feels with you– not just being close in familiarity, more like– he can make out the little spots and freckles adorning your face, every single eyelash your still watery eyes have, the faint lines in your still-red lips, and it occurs to him that he’s too close. Somewhere during this talk, his hand has stayed around your back, and you have been tentatively tracing his right hand’s knuckles with your own thumb.

Michael knows how it looks. If anyone was to walk in right now (and he’s sure Michelle or Richie have already put it together that the two of you have been gone for a while) they would assume you two are a couple.

He has a sudden air of regret– it’s not because he wants to reject you, he just… he struggles a lot with feeling wanted. He struggles with the standards that people seem to put on him. Michael has always known he’s not a good guy– he doesn’t know how to be the person that everyone seems to think he is. Carmen, Natalie, Richie, you– you all seem to think the best of him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He nearly had a breakdown watching Carmen look up to him so lovingly.

Before he can pull away– with another responsible refusal, telling you that he’s too old and washed up, and that you deserve the whole world and he is not enough to offer that to you– you gently but firmly grab his face, tracing his cheek, and he thinks it could be wrong– what if you’re just feeling all confused and willy-nilly about feelings because you’re displacing what you felt about Carmen, what if you don’t actually like him and you’re assuming that you do because of his clear attraction to you, what if you’re just feeling the moment and the sweet guidance he’s given you?

Tons of questions seem to flow from his mind, things that he wants to ask you, but Michael thinks fuck it, because you’re leaning in first and pulling him in and it’s something he would’ve never expected in a million years, that you could be just as attracted to him.

He kisses you maybe a little too hard– maybe it should’ve been softer, more gentle since you’ve opened up to him so much, but you kiss him just as eagerly back, and he doesn’t fucking care to be gentle anymore. He’s leaning over you and Michael knows he’s quite a bit taller, so he has to pull you upwards to really reach your lips, and the table the two of you are sitting on is quite small– it shakes a little and there’s not much room for Michael to really feel you.

Until you climb into his lap, because of course you do, and now you’re just tangling your fingers in his hair, and he thinks he can feel whatever migraine that the day’s events have spurred on him slipping away, and his hands wrap around the smallest part of your waist as he pulls you in, pressing his chest against yours.

You feel like Michael’s beard tickles a little– but you don’t mind that. You weren’t sure until you did it that you’ve wanted to kiss him for a while. You feel like maybe you’ve actually been more attracted to him than you ever were with Carmy, maybe even just going for Carmy due to his aforementioned security.

Michael groans, and he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you sharply inhale as his tongue roams around your own, and he knows he likes hearing you gasp when his hands come up under your sweater, just to feel your bare skin, and you pull away.

Michael comes in too close again, placing a soft yet firm kiss on the corner of your mouth, and you laugh at him, and it’s one of the best sounds he could hear. No longer are you all gloomy and sullen in the corner of the room– but there’s still an air of heat around you two, and he knows he should let you go before things go too far.

“Consider that a Christmas present.” You murmur softly, tapping his face, genuinely smiling despite the smeared lipstick, and you clamber off his lap, and peek out the pantry. “I think you’re good to go eat dinner– let me just…”

You wipe the red lipstick from his mouth using the corner of your sweater sleeve, so not to leave evidence, and it’s an intimate moment that has Michael staring at your hand, to your eyes, and there’s something in his eyes– maybe sorrow, maybe appreciation, but most of all, tenderness, and he takes a silly, soft moment to just kiss your hand. You beam at him.

“How long have you wanted to do that?” You tease him, because you know that Michael has always had that look, and he stiffens for a moment.

“Ah… maybe around when you came back from graduating college.” Michael admits, feeling weirdly high and low all at the same time, but he questions you too. “What about you? Don’t tell me you just decided to kiss me right now. That would fucking… that would be too much.”

His heart falls for a split second– thinking about how again you could’ve just been having a little fling– why would you ever like him? He struggles to think how you could, even after having kissed you.

“No, no. I swear it’s not like that.” You turn a little red and play with your hands. “Um. You’re not like a rebound, Mikey, I just… I think I liked you ever since I started coming around more, maybe around last year? I probably just didn’t notice because I thought I was into Carmy. You know? Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Michael tries not to let the relief show through his face too much. “I thought maybe I was… reading too much into it. Putting pressure on you.”

“No, you’re good.” You shake off his concerns. “I don’t think that at all. I really do like you… might’ve just been obsessed with the idea of a childhood friend turning into a lover.”

Michael grins. “Well, who’s to say that didn’t fucking happen, Birdie? Are we not childhood friends?”

“Eh… kind of. You’re a bit old.” You give him a so-so motion, and Michael jokingly pushes you a little. “I’m kidding! This is more like– your friend’s hot older brother gives you a chance and it’s crazy and exciting and you just want to know more.”

You were half kidding, but you’re so honest about it, and Michael loves it, but there’s still that undercurrent of agony– he wants to just openly like you, too, but he doesn’t want to be such a fucking failure about it.

“I’m gonna just head to the dining table, I think.” You check your watch. “Gotta go think about this a little more– is that okay? Not in a bad way, I’m just overwhelmed with everything that’s happened today…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s okay, Birdie.” Michael presses a kiss into your hairline. He knows it is a lot for anyone to handle– getting over a crush you thought you had, realizing that you like someone else– he gets it. “Take all the time you need.”

“Okay.” You smile eagerly at him and then walk outside through the hallway, wiping your mouth so it looks less kiss-stained, and peek around so no one is looking at you.

Michael feels a million emotions hit him at once, and he knows he has to cool himself down before explaining to everyone where you’ve gone, what’s happened– or he’s certain to implicate himself, and he can’t have that.

It all goes to shit not even twenty minutes later.

You’re sitting pretty between Richie and Tiff, who seem to be a little bit… awkward, maybe arguing mentally about something you don’t completely understand. No one has really commented on your disappearance, but you’re sure it’s obvious based on how Michelle and Stevie are whispering and smiling at you.

Michael gets a massive, depressive episode right after you’ve left him. He can’t exactly pinpoint why– he feels like a creep even if he isn’t one. Hell, he only actually met you when you were nineteen– he was in a different state when you started visiting the Berzattos. But even if Michael ignores his potential, old-man creepiness… he also feels like you’re headed for so much more than he ever was, and he knows he’s holding you back if he does this.

For once in his life, he just wanted to be happy. He just wanted to be wanted without the stigma of not being good enough.

You, Carmy, and Nat. He knows you guys are on your way. Michael feels a pit in his stomach as he imagines why you guys all have to look up to him so much– he just happened to be in the right place, at the right time.

He can’t ignore the feeling that he is just a major fucking loser.

That’s why Michael goes and gets high. He knows he’s making a mistake, and he doesn’t want to do something so disappointing– but he figures he’s already a disappointment anyways. He’s grateful you’re not here outside to see how pathetic he really is– how much he craves a hit just to feel a little less shitty. And yes, it calms him down as he feels the high of the painkillers exacerbate positive memories, like with you, Carmy, Natalie– but it still makes his anger, his depressive tendencies strong, too.

When he sits down at the dining table– he’s not that intoxicated, but he knows it’s a little apparent on his face, based on the mild alarm on your own. You’re sitting just far enough from him for there to be plausible deniability, but still– you are worried about him.

“You good?” You mouth, and he waves away your question with an air of fake nonchalance.

You don’t look convinced. You can see the red in Michael’s eyes, the general tension in his shoulders, the unnerving sense of resentment in his expression. You wonder what could have happened in the last ten minutes that you’ve been sitting at the table, why Michael decided to go and get intoxicated just minutes after kissing you.

Were you too much for him? Maybe.

You know Michael gets high. In fact, last Easter, you’re pretty sure he spent the entire time high on something– but you only vaguely know about his anger flare ups. About his negative emotions, the supposed depressive periods he goes through. You’ve seen him argue a bit with Richie, you know he’s gotten a bit harsh with Carmy, but you know he’s a bit more troubled than that. The whole family seems a bit troubled. Natalie has told you that much, and you have your experience with that– your mother and father’s fights are ones that still make you quiver to think about. But with Michael?

You don’t know how much you believed it, until now, because Michael always seemed kind of… like he always had the right thing to say. You almost feel like he’s in the right to get upset, because he’s had a hard time, with his family, some of his luck surrounding his career– especially with how Lee continually riles him up.

The table is formal and nice for a bit. Michael and Tiff converse about something, Carmy asks if you’re okay and you mostly are. Michelle asks Mikey to say grace, and he sounds resentful, again, of Lee cutting him off so often.

Cicero, being the responsible uncle that he is, tries to push off grace to Stevie, who promptly rejects it, and Michelle decides to ease the tension by asking what the hell the seven fishes are all about. Lee, of course, gleefully answers, about the dutch potatoes and the bible.

Michael glares at him and throws a fork. A real, honest-to-god, heavy piece of silverware. It clatters on the carpeted floor– you feel yourself flinch, and you watch Natalie and Pete’s expressions crumble into the realization that Michael is not okay, and everyone seems to look towards him in fear.

“You see what you did, right? You already did that. You already bitched about the dutch oven.” Michael retorts at him, not completely coherent, and you can feel the lights glazing over– the Christmas tree, the wreaths and baubles, everything seems to lose focus in comparison to the red-hot anger that Michael is bubbling over with.

Cicero and Carmy try to call him off, but Michael isn’t listening, and you can tell– he’s in a place to be upset. It’s like a slowly proceeding car crash– as much as you don’t want him to do it, you understand why he’s going to. You feel like there is a bit of a double standard in place here– Cicero seems to want him to respect his elders, and Michael is being kind of childish, but you can’t say you don’t understand why.

Michael asks for Fak’s fork, in direct opposition to Lee’s attempts to play the father in this house. Despite Fak’s insistent refusals, Michael successfully takes it. Everyone speaks with the intent to stop him, and he’s too focused on Lee to stop.

You know you hate Lee too. But such a severe reaction, coming from Michael? It has you wincing a little. You want to pull him away– tell him to be the nice older brother you’ve always known him to be– but you know it takes time. You know it’s probably going to get worse. You try to catch his eye– and he can't quite look at you.

You have faith in him. You know Michael can do better than this– you just hope he can see it, too.

Michael throws the second fork, and you feel regret in trusting him, again, because he’s making things bad but it’s almost as if he can’t help it. You catch Natalie’s eyes– she’s clearly disappointed, too.

Michael feels a sick sense of pleasure, as he often does when it comes to acting out his worst desires. But he feels a flash of anger with himself– is that what he did with you? Is he really this guy? He thinks that he is, he is a bad dude and he can commit to that role if that’s what’s needed.

“Cousin, you’re scaring the normals.” Richie tries, looking at Tiff and you, but you’re still yearning to catch his glance– and Michael can only respond that it’s nothing, everything is fine, and you’re suddenly reminded of when your parents used to fight and how you used to have to be the middle man and convince them that things were alright.

Michael looks towards you this time– but you’re not looking at him. You have your hands neatly clasped in your lap, your eyes are focused on the set of candles in the middle of the table, and you look horribly upset, with your neck all tense as you wait for things to blow over, and he can tell– he’s fucking up big time. Stevie, Carmy, everyone is looking pained, and Michael can only think that he doesn’t give a shit. He wants to make Lee feel just as terrible as he does.

"You see– I can throw forks because this is our father’s house." Michael scoffs back, and there's real agony in his tone. “My father’s house.”

Michelle inhales. “We have lift-off.”

“Okay, you got everyone's attention, so go ahead, tell us a story we've all heard a million times already.” Lee spits out, barely holding back his own contempt for Michael, and Michael starts laughing as if everything’s alright. “Tell a story about how you're living with your mom and you're borrowing money off of her and any other sucker who'll listen to your bullshit.”

Everyone looks towards the table, feeling terribly awkward about Lee’s accusations– it’s not that it’s necessarily untrue, but there’s a hefty amount of his own assumptions, his own bias thrown in there, and you want to speak up.

“Lee, shut the fuck up.” Cicero looks absolutely pissed off at him, and you’re grateful someone has taken some of the heat off of Michael. It’s Lee’s fault, too.

“I’m sorry. I told you not to be a sucker, Jimmy.” Lee comments, and Cicero exhales, exasperated.

“Lee. That’s not really fair– you’re being too hard on him.” You utter through gritted teeth, and Lee’s eyes narrow on you. It's the first time you've spoken, and Michael glances at you– his eyes are bright and he genuinely looks sorry. Sorry he had to go this far.

“Oh, am I? Really, Birdie? I would suggest I’m not being hard enough.” Lee raises his hands, invites you to speak more, and you know that it’s not really your place to do so, especially because Lee and Michael seem to have a lot of history.

But you have your almost-lawyer tendencies, and of course you’re not exactly unbiased either, because you want to see the best in Michael– you want to like him.

"Please, Lee… Michael's working on himself. You don't need to lie to him." You stare at him, and Lee’s face seems to turn darker with that. “I’m sure we all have our issues… it feels like a lot.”

"Is that what he's told you, Birdie?" Lee sneers at you, and you suddenly feel small. "He's a sick, fucking twisted man, and you would trust him, wouldn't you?"

He doesn’t go further than that– but it’s enough that you feel humiliated for being read so thoroughly. It’s obvious what he’s implying– you’re a silly little girl who doesn’t know any better.

“It's fine. It's fine. Because this guy's nothing and he's nobody.” Lee points at Michael again, and his expression sours so much. You watch as Michael seems to zero in on what Lee’s rambling on about.

Natalie shakes her head in little no-no motions.

“Hey… Petey… I just need to, uh… I need to borrow this for one second.” Michael’s got that nonchalant expression again, but there’s pain in his eyes, and there’s a clamour of everyone again telling Michael to stop, calling his name, trying to distract him.

"Michael. Michael. Please don’t do this. Hey. Hey. Hey!" Natalie calls at him, and you know she's just begging for him to leave it alone. “I love you. Okay?”

You watch as Michael, holding the fork, just holding it, clear malicious intent in his eyes, tension building in the air and you feel a little sick, but his eyes are watering and he clearly doesn’t want to do what he thinks he has to.

“I love you too, Sug.” Michael says honestly.

Stevie giggles, Cicero de-escalates things further, and you think you see the light at the end of the tunnel, if not for the fact that Michael is still holding the fork. Still standing up, taunting him, acting like a big old child as Carmy rebukes him– and it’s really just two grown men beginning to get all macho and toxic about who’s tougher, who’s really the man of the house, and they start screeching at each other and you watch as Michael’s eyes glaze over with something, with Lee’s final insult that “he’s nothing.”

You watch as Michael takes his seat. He seems ambivalent, hard to read– he’s not meeting anyone’s eyes and you feel terrible about it.

Donna comes in and takes her seat– she seems rather drunk, too, and the last thing you need is more evidence that substance abuse is a bad thing– and Stevie starts the most wonderful prayer that still isn’t enough to dissuade Michael. You catch his gaze– he’s mulling over something, his eyes are watery, and you want to go over there and talk him down, even if that idea is unwise.

Donna cries over the prayer, and Natalie commits the most cardinal sin that she could at this moment: she asks if she’s okay.

You flinch with recognition as Donna starts screaming at her, about how she is okay and could a person who isn’t okay make such a gorgeous meal, and she exits the room in visible anger, and Natalie begins to hyperventilate, while Michelle tries to calm everyone down.

Donna throws a plate down on the floor, and exits the room continuing to scream– and there’s a beat of tense silence, full of angst and what-nows, and Lee decides to take initiative breaking that silence with a silly joke– almost in a paternal role, again, a hot topic between him and Mikey– and you watch Michael’s eyes start narrowing as he leans against his hand.

Michael throws the third fork.

It’s like every single nerve you felt, every bit of tension that was already in place, comes to a head as Michael starts going batshit, trying his best to attack Lee, while the Fak brothers and Richie are between them, and you can barely think straight as everyone starts screaming at each other.

Tiff almost gets dragged into the chaos, and you're left shielding and comforting her from the fight. Pete and Richie hold Michael off and you're thankful– the last thing you want is to go up in there and get caught in the crossfire yourself. It’s genuinely a blur– you have no idea how bad things are getting until Cicero starts telling them to get the fuck out.

Suddenly, the wall of the living room bursts inwards, the Christmas tree getting dragged in the crossfire, and you realize with shock that someone’s driven a car inside.

Not just any car– that’s Donna in there, driving, and you think for a moment she’s dead. You can’t believe what’s happening– you can feel your heart hammering through your chest.

Michael runs towards the car, tries to open the front door, yelling and asking her what she did, asking her to open the door. She stirs a little.

Everyone else is standing there, in shock, not focusing properly on what to do, and you pull yourself away from the crowd of people, as they stare on in horror. You don’t want to be a part of this, but you are, and you know what a responsible adult would do.

You go outside, into the December night’s cold air, and call 911. Specify for the firefighters and ambulances, because Cicero has a big thing against narcs and cops and you’re not getting into that right now.

Even though you’re freezing, and that’s what you should be focusing on? You’re in an incredible amount of despair because of what’s taken place. You hang up the call and feel exhausted by everything that’s happened, and you wonder if Michael really knows better. If he can be more than this. It’s not something you’re judging him for– but you feel terrible about his circumstances and you want him to get out of there.

Worse, you can’t help but feel a little upset with him. Because you know that Michael didn’t have to stoop that low– he chose to, and that’s what bothers you the most. He let his emotional responses dictate how he was going to act, and you know it’s hard to not be so provoked in this environment, but still: you are concerned and upset with him, and you know you need to take a step back. As much as it hurts you to stay away, you feel like it’s going to hurt even more if you intentionally stay around.

You wait for the ambulance and fire trucks to show up– you take a minute to direct them through the house, and then you trust that someone else has got it from there. Carmy, Natalie, Michelle, Stevie– they’ve got each other, they’re whispering about something, and you know where you’re not needed.

You grab your coat and leave, leave as silently as you can without interrupting everything that’s going on. It’s an strange walk home– ten minutes of you thinking about everything.

You hope next Christmas will be better.

Michael comes down from his high hard. Someone’s wrapped a blanket around him, and he’s sitting on the front porch’s staircase, wondering what the hell is going on. Donna’s apparently been taken to the hospital– and there’s a makeshift tarp where the wall has been crashed in. Everyone has gone home.

Where did you go? He has a moment of panic. Are you okay? Did he fuck it up that badly? That you would leave without saying goodbye? Michael can picture the disappointment on your face, and he wishes– he really wishes he was someone else.

He’s stressing really hard, his eyes are beginning to tear up. God, he knew he wasn’t really worthy of your attention– you’re young still, you have the whole world ahead of you– and he wonders if he can apologize. He wonders what he could possibly say to make it right. After such an insane situation, he can’t even blame you for taking off.

Natalie tells him, kind sister that she is, that you were the one to call emergency services. Of course you were– you have a strong head on your shoulders and Michael feels strongly that his family is in debt to you. And then you headed home, but Natalie doesn’t know why.

He does have your number. But he’s not going to call you, not right now– he’s not going to make a bigger mistake and fuck things up further.

Michael sighs, and leans back. He doesn’t deserve to be happy.

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rinhaler · 1 month

Text

I Guess I Can't State My Feelings Too Soon

Your big brother is jealous and he hates himself for it :(

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ step brother!taiju shiba x f!reader

Genre: porn! (minimal plot) Notes: my first tokyorev fic since i moved blogs wheeee did NOT think it would be taiju but i cannot stop thinking about that man Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, stepcest!, jealousy ♡, possessiveness, co-dependency, virgin!reader, male masturbation ♡, sex toys ♡, porn consumption, panty theft ♡, unhealthy relationship, power dynamics. Words: 3.5k

He often wonders if you realise how ungrateful you come across, sometimes. Not only ungrateful, but disrespectful to boot.

Do you know how hard your big brother works? You’ll say you do, if he were to ask. But he’s sure you have no idea. He shielded you from the horrors of his world as you were thrust upon him out of nowhere. His new, beautiful step-sister who’s eyes would spill tears around raised voices. What choice did he have? You’d never understand or be able to comprehend his way of life or the world he had built for himself and his family.

As your other siblings grew up and drifted away, Taiju kept you dependent on him. He made it so you had to rely on him for everything. He’s putting you through fashion school while subsidizing your very existence. He keeps you fed and clothed all in the comfort of his beautiful penthouse.

You want for nothing.

And he’s never made you feel inadequate for your obvious dependency.

He doesn’t use it as a weapon or hold it against you. He just adores you, wholly. His beautiful little sister, the sweet little darling who needs her big brother to do everything for her. It motivates him, truthfully. When things feel hard, mundane, tedious, he reminds himself who he’s doing it for.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Takashi.” you smile, giddily, waving like a schoolgirl with a crush as you watch him leave.

He waves, too. A wide grin on his face as his eyes scrunch up with joy. It soon fades, though, as he finds himself accidentally walking right into your brother’s chest. Taiju’s expression harrows, though you don’t register it as you focus on the way Takashi smiles at you before excusing himself.

You’re ungrateful, and disrespectful.

His neck and jaw jerk as he tears off his tie. He’s visibly irritated, but you’re too naïve to realise. You greet him, excitedly, though you’re soon left feeling dejected when he opts to ignore you instead.

“Get me some wine from the cellar.” he demands. Without a please or even a glance in your direction, you know something is wrong. You’ve never been one to deny him, however, slinking away to the lounge to retrieve an aged red from the wall-built cellar.

He looks at you when you return, sliding the bottle to him across the marble countertop of the kitchen island separating you. It’s a brief look, that makes your heart throb with hurt. He’s mad at you, but you don’t know why. Soft yellow eyes that only offer gentle glances are showing you a side to your brother you didn’t know existed.

His pupils are almost slitted like a wild animal, eyes you’ve never seen before where your brother is concerned. He sighs, watching the cogs clank in your brain as you try and analyse who this man is before you.

Luckily for you, he doesn’t think he’s capable of staying angry with you.

“Would you like a drink, little sister?” he questions. It stops you from thinking, momentarily.

It’s a first. He’s never let you drink before, let alone his prized cellar wine. You take a seat on the bar stool regardless, nodding excitedly at the prospect of having your first real drink with your favourite brother. He twists off the lid and slides the glass he’d gotten for himself over to you.

Your heart rate quickens as his eyes, those same, predatory eyes, remain fixated on you as he pours. The wine spills like blood, sloshing into your glass until it’s halfway full. And somehow, without even watching what he’s doing, he managed to not spill a drop.

He takes off his blazer and sets it down on the counter. You watch him as he rolls up his sleeves and turns away from you to fetch another glass for himself. His muscles flex and you see his exposed, veiny arms sheen with sweat as he reaches up to grab the nearest glass.

“Pour it for me.” he tells you, setting it down as he turns to face you again. His eyes seem tired, now, but still unfamiliar to you. And so you find yourself nodding, doing exactly what your big brother has asked as your hairline begins to form beads of sweat.

You don’t look at him, not even briefly, as you start to pour. You’re slow and patient, but you feel him staring at you all the while. And it’s menacing. Even with patience and focus, you spill a drop onto the pristine marble.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him.

You move to find something to wipe it up with, but he stops you before you can even jump down from the stool. He presses his thick thumb into the cherry red liquid, seemingly absorbing it all before he raises it to his lips. You watch keenly as your brother’s tongue juts seductively from his lips before he meticulously licks over the pad of his thumb to taste it.

He clears his throat and leans across countertop.

You feel so small.

“Was that your boyfriend?” he wonders, eyes glued to you as he speaks with a low, gravelly tone. He sips soon after, making mental notes of your responses as you process his words.

“U-Um, no, Taiju,” you shake your head. You feel blistering heat in your face as you think about your classmate, and the intimate thoughts you’ve had about him for weeks now, all while your brother’s attention is entirely fixed on you. “We’re in the same class! He came to drop off some books he thought might help me.”

It’s a confession that is entirely the truth. He isn’t your boyfriend and you’re sure he never will be. Not unless he makes the first move, that is. You’re far too shy to even suggest that your feelings for him a more intense than they should be for simple classmates. Taiju nods, finally looking away from you as he takes another drink.

“Finish up and go to bed.” he commands.

You nod, too nervous to argue. You’ve never seen him like this or even heard him be so curt with you. It won’t bother you to go to bed, not one bit. Hopefully tomorrow he’ll be back to his usual, loving self.

He leaves you alone as he strides towards his study, finally giving you the chance to breathe. You knock back the remainder of your wine and pick up your book bag and school supplies, your pace hastening as you get closer to your room.

“Oi.” Taiju speaks, voice booming through the hallway before you can open the door to your bedroom. He leans against the doorframe to his office, arms folded as his eyes squint at you. “If you want to have people over, clear it with me first.” he demands.

“Oh,” you sigh, and it’s riddled with relief as you realise that is what the problem has been all along. He’s upset you’ve invited a stranger into his home without asking. It’s understandable, and you’re soon smiling again as you look at him. “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind.” you admit, regretting it almost instantly as it soon feels irrelevant to have said.

“I don’t want boys I don’t know here alone with my little sister.” he tells you.

He approaches, and your anxiety soars once again as you sense a looming threat in the air and the shortening distance between the two of you. He smirks as he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, your breath hitching at the contact while he forces you to look into his saffron gaze.

“You are very dear to me,” he confesses, “If anyone were to take advantage of you… well. You’re going to do as I ask next time, aren’t you? We won’t have to worry about that.”

“Of course… I’m so sorry, I should have—”

“You should.” he snarls. “But I forgive you. Go to bed, now.”

You nod, feeling slightly more upbeat after hearing he’s accepted your apology. He stops you from retreating to your room, though. His large, heavy hand encasing your forearm in a tight grip whilst his thumb still caresses your chin. It drifts, though, pulling the fat of your lower lip before he pulls it away. He taps his own lip twice, his expression still unamused as he looks at you.

“A goodnight kiss, princess,” he orders. You nod, it’s not out of the ordinary to kiss him goodnight. You stand on your tip toes before leaning in to peck his lips. They’re soft, and fit against yours beautifully as both of your eyes close during the contact. It’s chaste, to the point, and yet you’ve never felt an intensity during a kiss from him like you have just now.

His eyes are gentle, again. And the smile he offers is earnest. He kisses your cheek before you go, whispering in your ear sensually enough for a chill to traverse down your spine.

“Good girl.”

He opens the door to your room, remaining in place until you go inside. He shuts it after you get inside, leaning his back against the nearest wall as his head thuds against it. The cold metal of his rings cools down his flushed face, though he finds himself breathless.

Not from the act of a simple kiss, it’s the shame. Feelings for you, his sweet little sister, bubbling to the surface despite trying to repress them for so many years. He’s jealous and he’s ashamed of himself for letting things go this far. But you are his.

His sister.

His responsibility.

His property.

“Jesus Christ—”

He catches himself. He kicks away from the wall and rakes his fingers through tousled hair as he decides to distract himself with work in his office.

It’s taken blood and sweat to reach what he’s achieved. From being a sixteen year old menace to society, he’s now a highly respectable businessman with a chain of restaurants under his belt. Among other, less legal sources of income, of course.

It’s all for you.

As he looks through business expenses and documents from his lawyers, all he can think of is you.

It’s all been for you.

It’s always been for you.

He pushes his hair out of his face, noticing how it’s starting to cling to his forehead as he sweats profusely. Thoughts of you plaguing his every thought. His cock begins to throb in his slacks. His eyes drift from the papers scattered across his desk to his computer monitor. And then, slowly, they sink to the locked top drawer of his desk.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He ignores the drawer, instead, deciding to ignore his responsibilities as he types Pornhub in the search engine. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he speaks, exasperated as the homepage is flooded with an assortment of trending step sibling videos.

His heart pounds as he scrolls for a while, but eventually finds the willpower to click away, opting to find something else. He’s a simple man with simple taste. He’s always been into rougher stuff, deciding something along those lines will be best to quickly rub one out and clear his mind so he can focus on what he actually needs to be getting on with.

He clicks on a video, immediately cringing at the corny plot and dialogue as he unbuttons his shirt and rids himself of his belt. He’s panting as he pulls out his cock. If he’s been honest, his cock has been leaking since you fetched his wine so obediently.

He hisses when he realises he’s thinking about you again.

And soon enough he’s willing himself to concentrate on the girl in the video getting fucked within an inch of her life. It’s loud, rough, aggressive. Just how he likes. He tugs desperately, a vein popping in his forehead as he eagerly tries to get off to what he’s seeing.

It’s your fault.

He’s wondering if you’d ever be into fucking like this. He’s sure you’re a virgin, so he’d have to be careful with you at first.

“Fucking stop,” he whines.

He wants to cum to her, the girl in the video. It’s a lie, though. He wants to cum to you. He wants to hear how gorgeous you’d sound if he were the one to defile you for your very first time. Your own step brother, infiltrating your walls and making you cum around his cock.

“Shit,” he keeps trying to concentrate on her. His eyes soon wandering to the locked drawer again. He glances one final time at the video, grunting as he continues to fuck his fist until ultimately giving up.

He searches something new. Something he’s never beat one off to before. Softcore virgin. He grimaces as his finger hovers above the enter key, he knows he won’t be able to finish otherwise, but part of him thinks it’s not too late to turn back. His eyes widen slightly, taken aback by the sheer amount of results that are step-sibling videos. He considers it, again. He really does, but as he continues to scroll, he starts to take an interest in the masturbation videos.

The soft, feminine moans immediately make his cock jump. It’s perfect, it’s so sickeningly perfect because he can pretend it’s you. And if he’s this far gone, he feels no need to deprive himself anymore. He lifts up his keyboard, sliding the locked drawer key from a hidden compartment underneath. His hands are practically shaking as he tries to slide it into the slot. He quickly turns, breathing heavily as he almost rips the drawer from its place as he opens it.

He scoffs as his hand flies to a clear fleshlight, yanking it out and setting it down on his desk before he retrieves what he’s really been avoiding this whole time.

You’ve never had to do laundry, and he doesn’t do it either. He hires staff to come through the week to do tedious things like cleaning the apartment and washing dirty clothes. It’s been about a fortnight since he saw an opportunity laid bare before him.

You were at school, a fact now he’s growing to despise as he imagines you flirting with Takashi Mitsuya during your classes. But he was working from home, too irritated to handle business dealings in person on that particular Thursday. And he happened to see a maid emerge from your room with a laundry basket, a frilly pink thong atop a pile of outfits you’d worn through the week to college.

He wrestled with himself, he did.

But it wasn’t too difficult to distract the maid for long enough to pocket them for himself.

The video continues to play, his cock gushing as he stares down at your panties. He’s too far gone. He’s too aroused and his mind is muddied as he thinks about everything going on in his life and yours. You’re too honest to lie, Mitsuya isn’t your boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean he’ll never be.

He snatches the thong and strokes his cock with it in hand. His eyes roll back, a broken moan leaving his lips as he continues to pleasure himself. He stops abruptly, though, as the woman in the video he’s watching stops teasing her clit. She shows off a dildo, slowly rubbing it through her wet folds until she eventually begins to push it inside of herself.

She’s cute, but she isn’t you.

If he closes his eyes, however, she is. He looks to his fleshlight, deeming this the closest he’ll get to fucking you no matter how desperately he yearns for it. He carefully guides his tip into the plastic pussy, moaning a little louder than intended as he bottoms out.

He bites his lip as he recalls the woman in the store squeezing her thighs together as she helped him pick the toy out. It makes him laugh, briefly, as he recalls how forward she had been. He fucked her in the changing rooms as she insisted she’d need to see what he was packing so that she could help him pick the perfect model.

She sent him away with the biggest size.

Your pussy won’t feel like this, though. He’s certain you won’t be so generous and accommodating. Your tight little virgin cunt will fight against him, but he’ll make it fit.

“Jesus, fuck—” he groans, admitting defeat for the final time as he brings your panties to his face and almost suffocates himself with the material.

His chest swells as he inhales, before it deflates with shuddering breaths as he savours the scent of your used unmentionables. He picks up the pace with his toy in tandem with the woman in the video. His moans are boisterous and uncaring, he’s lost the ability to feel shame as he imagines you bouncing on his cock crying his name and trying to become accustomed to his length.

He needs it more than air.

He needs it more than he needs to fucking breathe.

“Shit, ah—” he grunts, he bites his lip as he continues to pound into the fucktoy in his grip. He grunts stridently as he spurts into the fleshlight. He watches through heavy, lidded eyes at the clear plastic, watching how his balls tighten and deposit his creamy load into the faux pussy. “Fuck, Taiju.” he sighs, but laughs as he slowly begins to stroke himself with the toy. He hisses, feeling sensitive from his release as he milks himself of every last drop he can drain.

He exhales breathlessly once he’s done. His chest rising and falling as he allows his body to melt into his leather chair. He looks around the room, and he looks at himself. The crushing reality of what he’s just done weighs down on him. He’s spent, but finds enough energy to put your panties back in the drawer, locking it promptly.

The fleshlight, on the other hand, he leaves out after making space for it on his desk. He winces as it rolls and his sperm begins to drip out onto the glossy, chestnut tabletop. The comedown from is euphoria is like reaching a new low. He can’t even bear to look at the scene of his filthy indiscretion any longer.

But as he’s about to stand, the door swings open.

“Taiju?” you pout.

He scrambles to hide his exposed lower half under his desk and dump some of the papers littering his desk over the sticky fleshlight. He can’t hide the grimace on his face as the corner of one of his documents begin dampen from his cum.

“O-Oh, sorry, I forgot to knock… I should have knocked.”

“Yes, you should.” He says, gruffly, “What is it?”

You’re quiet, allowing your sock covered foot to glide across the wood flooring as you awkwardly look down at them. It’s not like you’re scared to talk to your brother, but you know he doesn’t like to be interrupted when he’s in here. And you don’t want to embarrass him.

“Answer.” his order startles you, his voice almost thunderous as he commands your attention. Your eyes fill with water, but you bat the tears away as you speak.

“I thought I heard you yelling. Or… in pain.” you tell him, voice below a whisper as you confess you’ve been unintentionally listening. “I thought you might have hurt yourself.”

Pink dusts over his face, you can even see it from only the light of the monitor. He looks around, suspiciously, though you don’t notice or comment on it.

“Why were you listening to me? Can’t you sleep?” he wonders. “… Don’t worry. I’m fine.” he assures you.

“I was worried. A-About earlier. I don’t like it when you’re mad at me… I promise I haven’t got a boyfriend and I’ll never bring anyone here without permission again.”

He smirks at that, all of his teeth bared and you still don’t understand what kind of sick depraved man your big brother really is. Maybe you aren’t as ungrateful or disrespectful as he thought; it was wrong of him to even assume that when you’ve been nothing but a doll the whole time he’s known you.

You poor thing.

You’ve been fretting over your brother’s wellbeing and state of mind since he sent you to bed so long ago. He’s been on your mind this whole time. You’re more like your big brother than you even realise, he thinks.

You’re so timid.

So obedient.

So good.

“You must be so tired, princess…” he coos, and you nod dumbly. He tuts, feeling sorry for your innocent nature and naivety, but sweet little you thinks he’s sympathetic to your exhaustion. “Do you want me to help you sleep? Shall I play with your hair like I used to when we were younger?”

“Really?” you ask, eyes lighting up at the proposition.

“Of course,” he nods, grinning wildly. “What are big brothers for?”

#🦋 — luxe writes #taiju smut #taiju x reader #taiju shiba x reader #taiju shiba smut #shiba taiju smut #taiju shiba #shiba taiju #taiju shiba x you #taiju shiba x y/n #tokyorev x fem!reader #tw jealousy #tw possessiveness #tw codependency #tw stepcest

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jupipedia · 9 months

Note

tia tia tiaaaaa, I have a request <333

okay so, how would the jjk men react to their fav sneaky link cutting them off ? like all of a sudden the reader ghosted them after their recent hookup ? preferably with gojo, choso, toji, and geto ? if you wanna change it it’s fine

giving the vibe of homiesexual by daniel cesar, idk if you heard it but yeah. listen if you haven’t, it’s a banger 🫵🏽

sneaky link privileges revoked ! — multi. ↳ how these men would react to being ghosted or dropped by their sneaky link. ↳ content warnings : nsfw ( minors do not interact ), mentions of cunnilingus + p in v. ↳ message from tia : hey twin, hope you don't mind that i just turned this is to a multi animanga headcanon! this isn't out right smut but it does have nsfw mentions that i would consider further than just suggestive. might add more character or something later but yeah hope you enjoy!

he’s losing his fucking mind when he realized that his text messages are now green. he’s gonna find every means to contact your ass. you think he’s gonna let his favorite throat goat up and leave without a fight? he’s not going for that. he’s gonna call whoever he has to in order to speak to you. your friends, roommates, siblings, boss, co-workers, neighbors, even your mailman if that’s what it takes to get through to you. he just had you teary-eyed with no voice as he fucked the life out of you last night and all of a sudden he’s blocked? he’s lowkey crazy too because his ass is showing up wherever he knows you will be. he is at your job, sitting at your desk as he waits for you to come in. in that moment, he's never been more grateful for your private office as he has you bent over your desk, fucking you on all your important paperwork. he's even at the bars you and your friends go to for a night out and gets you alone in the bathroom, tongue deep in your pussy as you grip his hard and press yourself against the wall of the stall. good luck getting rid of him.

— GOJO, connie, rengoku, sanji, SANZU, bokuto, sanemi, rindou, EREN, hawks, mikey, atsumu, etc.

he laughed when you told him to lose your number because he thought it was a joke. he knew it was in fact a joke because he was gonna be right back at your place, breaking your back and eating your pussy like it’s his last meal. you are not going anywhere like it’s funny that you even thought you could. he doesn’t care if you’re not ( officially ) his girl, you’re not leaving him. and every time you bring it up, he nods and chuckles before fucking sense in and out of you. after the third time of trying to end your arrangement with him, you gave up, knowing that with one move, you’d be falling back into his arms and onto his dick. he doesn't even blame you for wanting to end thing because he knows he's not shit, but that doesn't mean it's gonna happen. not when your sweet cunt wraps around his cock like a dream. not when the sound of your moans and his name rolling off of your tongue is newfound favorite melody.

— TOJI, kid, JEAN, aizawa, geto, draken, wakasa, kuroo, osamu, zoro, shanks, benimaru, zeke, etc.

after you told him that you didn’t want to keep being friends with benefits, he respected it outwardly. however, when you pulled the whole “we can still be friends” bit on him, he completely used it to his advantage. he would “conveniently” appear whenever another guy was trying to get at you. he shows up to all of your events, suddenly becoming your biggest supporter. he’s always been around but suddenly it’s like he’s everywhere that you are. he’s so involved with you that it’s almost as if you two never ended anything. and then suddenly you’re back in his bed, legs pulled to your chest as he presses against your cervix. sex with him was already great, but it's like he stepped his game to prove that only he could pleasure you. he's completely focused on you and your pleasure, fucking you in every position possible until the sun rises and you decided to let him back into you sex life.

— choso, NANAMI, reiner, armin, daichi, onyankopon, law, aran, mitsuya, tengen, gyomei, etc.

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚❕*∘∘˙˚༄💨 ( a jupiter production. )#anime smut #jjk smut #aot smut #mha smut #haikyuu smut #one piece smut #tokyo revengers smut #demon slayer smut #fire force smut

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lemonlover1110 · 8 months

Text

Baby Steps

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 26] Date

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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“I could just eat you.” You kiss Seiji’s tiny feet, and he laughs. You adore his little laughs more than anything. You never thought you could love him more than the day he was born, but your love for him keeps growing more and more each passing day.

At five months old, Seiji looks like a replica of his father. You wait for him to grow more into his features, to look more like you. But he doesn’t. You love him either way, even if he looks just like Satoru. Seiji just has the chubbiest cheeks and the cutest rolls. You can have a thousand of him, and as you think that you realize that you’re forgetting how horrible childbirth was.

“Are you telling him that you’re gonna eat him again?” Satoru asks as he walks to sit by your side. You don’t pay attention to him, just looking at your baby. Satoru sits by your side and kisses the temple of your head.

You haven’t had the date that you were supposed to have, and you’re going out tonight. And instead of getting ready, you’re playing around with Seiji. Satoru clears his throat before he says, “Maybe I should handle Seiji while you get ready.”

“Why don’t you get ready?” You ask as you look over to him. But he is ready. You’re about to fight it off but you hear a certain sound that makes you hand the baby to his father. “Change his diaper while I go get ready.”

Satoru is clearly annoyed when you hand him Seiji. It’s his fault for suggesting that you get ready. It’s also baby Seiji’s fault for making a mess in his diaper during the worst possible moment. Satoru wastes no time in changing the diaper– Absolutely terrified though, especially after what happened during Seiji’s first month of life. Satoru is protected by his infinity, but the room isn’t.

“I’m gonna miss you tonight, Seiji.” Satoru says, kissing the top of his baby’s head. Every night that Satoru has to work, he hates the fact that he won’t be able to be close to his baby. But Satoru wants to spend some time alone with you, and that means that he can’t bring Seiji. He doesn’t like the fact that Seiji is growing up so fast, and every time Satoru looks away the baby seems to learn something new.

He walks back to the living room, where Megumi tries to assemble something with his legos. Satoru smiles, realizing just how lucky he is. Tsumiki and Megumi argue like any pair of siblings, but apart from that, they’re very calm kids. Satoru speaks up, “Do you wanna play with Seiji for a bit?”

“Didn’t he just shit himself?” Megumi asks, leaving Satoru wide-eyed. Where did Megumi learn that language? Satoru doesn’t have a potty mouth, then he remembers that you certainly do. Even around Seiji, even though he scolds you about it. He doesn’t want Seiji’s first words to be fuck or shit. Apparently those are the only words you know.

“Don’t use that language, Megumi.” Satoru scolds him, and Megumi rolls his eyes before standing up and walking back to the room. You’re in the process of buying a house, and Megumi simply can’t wait since he was promised his own room.

Satoru sighs before looking down at his baby. Seiji is stretching his hand out, trying to reach for something. Satoru doesn’t know what, and he’s trying to find what baby Seiji is looking at. He’s cooing at something, and then Satoru’s eyes finally land on the fish-shaped toy. Satoru grabs it and hands it to the baby. Seiji grips it, and Satoru just watches.

There’s a knock on the door, and Satoru stands up, taking a deep breath to prepare himself to handle Kaya. When he opens the door, he tries his best to smile at her. She looks unamused with his presence, but her expression quickly changes when she sees baby Seiji. She doesn’t waste a minute in taking the baby from Satoru’s arms.

She’s holding the baby in the air, risking that he pukes all over her, but she doesn’t care. “My cute little nephew, I’ve missed you.”

“You know it’s not just him, right?” Satoru asks, watching as Kaya walks inside. She ignores him, of course she knows. Kaya has met Megumi and Tsumiki a handful of times, and they seem fine. She won’t struggle much tonight. Satoru shuts the door. “How are you and Daisuke?”

“What do you mean?” She responds, genuinely confused. It makes Satoru click his tongue, in disbelief that they’re still not dating even though they’re so clearly into each other. Satoru ends up shaking his head, not wanting to get into the issue.

“Heads up, Seiji loves to poop right when you’re changing his diaper so be prepared.” Satoru warns her, and she chuckles.

“How many times has he done it to you?” She questions, and he scratches the back of his neck, awkwardly looking elsewhere. Too many times for him to be scared. While he looks away, he watches as you walk out of the bedroom, looking as stunning as ever.

You’re putting on your earrings, and you’re clearly not ready to go yet. You just walked out of the bedroom to greet Kaya. When she sees you, she smiles and says, “There’s my favorite MILF.”

Satoru clears his throat, which doesn’t necessarily do anything. Kaya side-eyes him before she turns her full attention to you. You kiss her cheek before you kiss your son’s head. “How are you? Didn’t expect you to be here so early.”

“I’m right on time, am I not?” She responds and Satoru hums in response. You call over Megumi and Tsumiki, and it takes them a minute to walk out of their room to the living room. You smile at them before informing them,

“You remember Kaya, right? She’ll be taking care of you tonight. Please be nice to her.”

Kaya smiles at the kids, and Tsumiki smiles back. Megumi doesn’t care all that much, but it’s fine, she knows he’s a grumpy kid. You tell her basic instructions, stuff that Satoru can handle, before you walk back to the bedroom to finish getting ready.

Satoru wants to rush you since you have a special reservation, but he knows better than to. He just has to wait.

You’re almost late to your reservation, but thankfully you’re right on time. The place looks fancy, and the menu contains words that you can barely pronounce so you know this is way out of your price range; luckily, Satoru is paying. You’re just hoping that Seiji’s college fund isn’t the one that’s paying for dinner.

“How’s work?” You ask before you bring your glass up to your lips. You still don’t have a grasp on what he does, but you’ve moved on past it. You can’t see it, so it doesn’t concern you. As long as he isn’t killing innocent people, you’re fine.

“Let’s not talk about that, please.” He chuckles. He changes the topic, “How are your classes? Were your exams too hard?”

“Not too hard.” You respond. You don’t want to admit that the term was a bit harder on you since you hadn’t taken classes since the previous fall term. Everything was so much harder for you because of your newborn. You managed to pull through though. “Glad to have the time off.”

“That’s nice to hear. Just know that if you don’t want to do it anymore–” He begins and you cut him off. As tempting as it sounds, you can’t really can’t just drop your studies to be a stay at home mom.

“I do want to do it.” You tell him. Your hands reach across the table to hold his hands. “Especially since you’re paying for everything. I don’t have that much left anyway.”

“Just letting you know that you have other options!” Satoru responds. Satoru keeps looking you up and down, you simply look stunning. He’s truly a lucky man. It isn’t official yet, but you have a baby and you act like a couple so is there really a need to formally ask you to be his girlfriend? Well, he guesses that he should. “I wish I could stay with Seiji all day long.”

“I mean… You could. Once I've graduated–” You begin and he interrupts him.

“My type of job isn’t one that I get to quit. I’m stuck doing it until I’m dead.” He’s told you it a couple of times, but you don’t seem to pay attention to it. Maybe he’d explain everything further, but he doesn’t want to ruin the mood. But you speak up,

“Why were you so insistent on your parents not finding out about Seiji?”

“I just thought if no one in my life knew about Seiji then he’d be safe… I mean, you saw what happened when someone that wasn’t supposed to know found out.” He answers. He still hasn’t quite figured out how Suguru found out, but he has an idea. He shakes his head before he smiles at you and he squeezes your hands, “Let’s not talk about that.”

“What do you want to talk about?” You ask him, slightly tilting your head to the side. You look sweetly at him, slowly blinking. Fuck, you look so beautiful.

“Just how beautiful you look. Thanks for coming out with me tonight.” He can’t stop staring with loving eyes, and you feel your heart flutter. You feel so warm inside every time that you look at him, and you nearly squeal each time he compliments you. Kissing him just makes you smile foolishly, and you hate that he knows the effect he has on you. He’s been sweeter than ever lately, and you assume it’s because he sees you smile like never before.

“Thanks for inviting me.” You respond. It’s nice to be out after what feels like an eternity. You don’t have to worry about your baby or the kids. “We should do this more often. Just some alone time for the two of us.”

“I love that idea. No musty kids around. No dirty diapers to change.” He comments, causing you to laugh. You know that he hates changing dirty diapers but it’s a task that always falls in his hands. “Plus we’ll have fun after.”

“Doing what?” You question before he informs you,

“I took the carseat out of the car.” It doesn’t hit you, but when it finally does, a smirk comes to your lips. He then clears his throat, “I hope you enjoy the dinner tonight. I love this place.”

“Can’t wait to taste the food.”

It’s fair to say that you weren’t a big fan of the food so before your date comes to an end, you and Satoru walk around to find a place nearby to eat. Satoru keeps his eye out for a place that you might like, and he tries to walk fast since he sees you shivering. You’re both well dressed since it’s December, but it’s windy out. Wind hits right on your face and you’re sure that you’ll end up sick.

“The food wasn’t that bad.” Satoru tries to argue, and you don’t dare to disagree. It just wasn’t too tasty, and you left half of your food untouched. Satoru found it delicious on the other hand.

“Yeah… I guess it wasn’t.” You respond, following his every step. He comes to a stop when he spots a cupcake shop, and he grabs your hand before dragging you to it. You’re relieved when you step into the place, warming up immediately.

“What kind of cupcake do you want?” Satoru asks, and you take a moment to think about it.

“Carrot.” You respond, and a smile comes to his lips. Luckily enough, there isn’t a line so you’re able to get your cupcakes right away. You take a seat and begin to eat. Satoru is trying to get some of your food, but you make sure to keep it far from his reach. The fact that Satoru has really long arms doesn’t help you.

“Have you had fun?” Satoru asks, snatching your food out of your hands and offering his own. You refuse to take it though. You nod in response, getting some of the icing of his cupcake on your finger before bringing it up to your lips.

“How about you? I know you enjoyed that nasty ass food.” You joke, and he rolls his eyes. You end up laughing at his reaction. He finally gives you back your cupcake and you gladly take it from his hands.

He clears his throat, “So…”

“So?” You blink rapidly, curious as to what he has to say.

“I guess we don’t need to do this properly since we have a baby and live together and do everything that couples do…” He begins, and he pauses to gather his words. You have an idea of what’s coming up, but you patiently wait for him to finish his statement. “I don’t wanna drag this out, so I’ll put it simple. Do you want to be my official girlfriend?”

You laugh. “I thought that at this point you’d be giving me an engagement ring but yes–”

He doesn’t waste a second as he reaches into his pockets to pull out the ring that he has. Your eyes go wide looking at it. You weren’t serious. There’s a smile on his face as he says,

“Do you want to skip the girlfriend stage and become my fiancée then?”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo fanfic #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo saturo

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wardenparker · 2 months

Note

Hello my love! You DESERVE ALLL THE LOVE!!! Can I request Javi G? And “Wait! Please don’t leave!” For your AWESOME mini fic celebration???

😘😘😘😘

Regency!Javi Gutierrez. 867 words. "Wait! Please don't leave!" Co-written with @absurdthirst

Because we all need a little Darcy moment after the treat we got at the SAG Awards

"We should not be alone." He knows that. Everyone knows it. Even young children learn that being alone together is something only for the grown and married. Or your siblings. But certainly nothing else. So why Mr. Gutierrez is standing in your library now with mud on his boots and no waistcoat is beyond you. You certainly did not send for him, and neither did anyone else in your household.

"The day is early." Javi glances out the windows, almost surprised to see that the sun still has not quite cleared over the horizon. The night has been long, spent pacing his own library as he wrestled with his feelings. Unable to leave things without a resolution, he hadn't even stopped to dress properly, or saddle a horse. Walking across the cleared fields that separated his own estate from your father's. "No matter." He glances back at you and is overwhelmed by your beauty. "I have a matter of importance to speak with you about."

"Then surely we should ring for my mother, so that you may speak to her as well." The great supper at the palace had lasted long into the night but surely your mother would be rested enough by now to be a suitable set of surveying eyes in the room. Goodness only knows what she will say if she wakens to her breakfast tray to find out you have been entertaining a man alone at daybreak. "Please wait here," you instruct him as politely as possible, making for the door. "I will go and fetch her myself."

"Wait! Please don't go!" Javi strides forward only to stop after a few steps, afraid for a split second that if you walk out the door he will never see you again. He cannot wait to tell you. "I love you."

Freezing in place does not stop your heart from leaping into your throat and pushing a distressed sort of squeaking sound out in the process. The fluttering in your belly is nearly violent as your mind races to catch up with the pounding of your blood in your ears. If you were a more delicate woman, you might have swooned where you stand. "You..." Slowly, or just as fast as your body will allow which is a near-glacial pace, you turn again to face him. "I must not have heard you correctly."

“I love you.” He repeats breathlessly, feeling like his heart is about to leap out of his chest. “As inconvenient a truth as that might be, I have found that I cannot spend another moment outside of your presence. I yearn to tell you the mundane things about my day and inquire about yours with little regard to your lack of family fortune or your prospects, I have decided that I cannot live without you.”

"How very generous of you, sir." It is nearly a hiss when it comes out, and all the giddy tension through your body evaporates as quickly as it came. "'With little regard to your lack of family fortune or your prospects'? I cannot think who taught you the syntax of romance, but they did you a hearty disservice if you were attempting to pay me a compliment."

He frowns in confusion and he shakes his head. “I am merely trying to express the lengths that my heart sings when you are near.” He protests. “I have no need of a dowry or a presence in society, merely your heart and hand in marriage are all I hope to have.”

“I may not know much of the world, Mr. Gutierrez, but even a country gentleman’s daughter knows it is impolite to remark on a lack of prospects when making a romantic overture.” The very idea that he is making an overture seems ludicrous, all things considered, but you must admit that in all the ways you have been thrown together lately there has been a…a string connecting you. It seems to be tucked deep inside you. Perhaps tied to a rib and tugging each time he strays a little too far away.

“I—” his mouth is agape as you call out his rude manners and he realizes that all of the jumbled thoughts that have been rambling around in his mind have come out. “My sincerest apologies.” He bows slightly and sighs. “Perhaps such an early audience was not wise.”

“Sleep has a way of soothing the thoughts.” The small touch of advice is kindly meant, although your hands shake with it and your heart pounds. He had not meant to insult. He simply spoke too quickly. “Perhaps you would rather return at teatime? To speak to my father?”

“Perhaps.” Javi sighs softly, aware of his blunder and more than certain you will reject him if he were to return. “Good morrow to you, then.”

“Good morning.” That pounding of your heart is there too fully to ignore, but not a word can be said about it. All you can hope is that he returns — and that when he does, he does not fumble in front of your father. If he does, the poor string tied to your rib may snap, and you would be adrift forever.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javi Gutierrez #Javi Gutierrez x you #Javi Gutierrez x reader #Javi Gutierrez x female reader #Javi Gutierrez x f!reader #Javi G #Regency!Javi G #TUWOMT #The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent #Regency AU #microfic

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luviemax · 4 months

Text

daylight- oneshot

a/n: she demanded a logan fic... and i fear i must #serve... @oldmoney-champagneproblems song inspo

masterlist

word count: 1602

-> logan sargeant x fem!reader, no physical descriptions of reader

warnings: talks about moving, reader having a younger brother, perhaps misrepresentation of sibling relationships?? don't blame me i'm an only child 😔

happy birthday to my pookie n happy new year to everyone!!

You and Logan have known each other for what seems to be an ice age.

It all started when your family had announced a few pieces of bombshell information. 1) Your family would be welcoming a younger sibling to the world, and 2) in lieu of your younger sibling's arrival, you would be moving out of your quaint little apartment which was at the boundaries of town to a 2 story home which was in the suburbs of the city.

Of course, everything new in your life was a bound to be something to get adjusted to. You're, of course, excited to meet your new baby sibling, but you don't want to leave the only home you've ever known. However, your parents reassure you that you're moving to a nice, family neighbourhood with plenty of kids which are your age. That manages to reduce your apprehension, but only slightly.

When you finally arrive to the newly renovated house, you meet your neighbours. There's Mr and Mrs Sargeant, who seem perfectly pleasant, and there's an older brother, Dalton, who seems slightly perculiar but nice enough..? And last but not least, you meet the youngest brother, Logan, who comes tumbling out of the house who gives you an awkward smile and a timid wave.

At first, you don't really think much of Logan. You think that he's pretty shy. Perhaps he's just introverted and takes a while to warm up to people. But then, on the first day of school, he knocks on your door, and the two of you walk to school together. From that day onwards, the two of you were inseperable.

When Logan is eight, his dad begins to bring him to Karting competitions. It seems that he's actually beginning to take this thing seriously. On days where his competitions don't clash with your school, your parents let you follow Logan to his competitions, and you're always the one who cheers the loudest.

When he tells you that he's making the move to Formula 4, you're absolutely elated for him. This is always what he's been aiming for, to move closer to Formula 1, but something seems off. "Logan?" You tentatively ask, trying not to set off any alarms. "Yeah?" He replies, seeming quite preoccupied. "Why don't you seem happy?" You ask, the air of the room abruptly shifiting to become chilly, even slightly cold. "I'm gonna have to travel away from home to compete. That means I won't see you that often."

Of course, you still talk to him. You FaceTime him when you can, when you aren't preoccupied with school, and when he isn't busy flying around the track. But then, he proceeds to progress up to Formula 3, and that entails 2 things: 1) He'll have to travel more for races, and 2) He'll probably have less time for himself and more competition.

So natrually, the two of you begin to drift apart. This isn't something that's premediated by the two of you, because the two of you were like peas in a pod, but then again, you're absolutely swamped with you're classes, and Logan's never been more busy in his life with all of the races he has to compete in.

Of course, when you see the announcement that he's been promoted to Formula 2 in 2020, and naturally, you congratulate him on his progress. But the two of you barely have time to talk. You're just about to start college, and he's busy racing. So it remains like that for a while. You see that he does well in races. You congratulate him, and he always replies graciously. But then again, your friendship feels as if it's been displaced in favour of your academics, and his career.

You're in University when you see that he's moving to Formula 1 for 2023. Usually, you'd just drop him the obligatory congratulatory text, but this seems bigger than that. He's moving to Formula 1. So you call him, in between your classes. When you press the call button, he picks up within three rings. "Hello?" His voice, although familiar, sounds much deeper than it once was. Yet, it still warms your soul like nothing else could. "Logan." You breathe out, grinning at the easy familiarity the two of you could fall into at the snap of a finger. "Y/N." You can hear his smile over the phone. "You're in the big leagues now, huh?" You throw yourself on your dorm's bed, looking at the ceiling while chatting with him. "Yeah. It's pretty crazy." He laughs, seeming to be in slight disbelief himself. "Red, white and blue baby!" You exclaim, making him chuckle, "Don't forget about your girl back home, though." "Never," he laughs, "I could never forget about you."

You don't really talk to him after that phone call. Of course, you drop the occasional text, which he's always eager to reply to, but your assignments are pratically eating you alive. Just a little while longer, you tell yourself, just until the Summer break, when you can go home, and enjoy cooling swims in the backyard of your parent's house and return to the people who you love most. Of course, you're absolutely elated to see your parents again, as well as your younger sibling, who happens to be an absolute joy to be around, and Mr and Mrs Sargeant too, who are always so pleasurable to be around, (truthfully, you're not too fond of Dalton. Throughout the years, you've had to tactfully avoid Dalton's passes at you, but hey, who knows about this year?) but a part of you yearns to see Logan again. It's been too long since you've seen him, and actually spent time with him, and you've checked, his Summer break perfectly aligns with yours, so who knows?

You arrive back home, suitcases in hand. Your mother warmly embraces you, and your father greets you with a kiss on the cheek. Your younger brother bolts down the stairs at your arrival, and practically throws himself at you. You're equally as overjoyed to be seeing him after such a long time.

Just as you've finally settled down in your old childhood bedroom, you decide to peer out the window, facing the driveway. There, you see in unmistakable figure of Logan Sargeant. Your heart begins to race, and you practically swear that you're travelling at the same speeds as a Formula car. At first, you don't make your presence known behind him. You just sneak up behind him as he chats with his mother on the driveway, and hold a singular finger up to your lips as a signal to her to keep quiet. She only gives you a knowing smile. But then again, you get kinda tired of waiting around. You tickle him. He lets out a scandalised gasp, and he snaps around to face you, and instantly, you're hit with a barrage of tickles. You laugh until your face is red, your cheeks begin to hurt, and tears leak from your eyes. Then, when he's finally done with his vicious attack against you, he embraces you in a hug, in the warmest hug you've ever known.

You decide to give Dalton a chance. Yeah, maybe he comes off as a little weird at times, but he seems nice enough, so the two of you go out for dinner. Does Logan seem slightly disapproving at the prospect of his brother and his best friend that he's loved since he was six going out? Maybe. But you don't know that. You don't need to know that.

So begrudgingly, Logan let's the two of you go out to dinner together.

Put nicely, you had a shit time at dinner.

You thought maybe, just maybe, after so many failed romances and poor dates that you would've had a chance with someone who was more familiar, and didn't come from a random lecture or a shitty dating app. But no. This was even worse. Dalton won't stop going on and on about the ex he can't get over. Rebecca, or something like that. Then what was the point of even brining me on a date then? You bitterly muse to yourself, gradually learning how 'hmm...' at the right times and tune him out. At one point, he even had the audacity to compare you with her. 'You know, Rebecca was more chatty. You don't talk a lot, do you?" Dalton asks, slight sass in his voice. "No, I do talk. Just about the things I like." You mumble, stabbing into your food.

At the end of the night, you're beyond emotionally spent. You plop onto the bed, and just start sobbing. Not because of the date, which was pretty bad, but just because you begin to wonder, am I really that bad? But just as you begin to expand on the matter, you hear three familiar knocks on your door. This was the secret knock you and Logan used to use when you wanted to see each other, and frankly, you're astounded that he still remembers. "Come in." You wince at the hoarseness of your voice. "Baby," he pratically coos when he sees that your eyes are red and swollen, "Come here," He opens his arms, and you practically fall into his chest. The gentle circles he's rubbing on your back soothes you, "That bad, huh?" He chuckles, wiping away the stray tears on your face. "I could treat you miles better, you know that?" "Do you know what a kilometre is?" You tease, which ellicits a laugh from him. "No, but I'd be willing to learn for you."

#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #ls2 #f1 x reader #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant smut

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in1-nutshell · 3 months

Note

Can you do one where mtmte bot buddy is perceptor easily scared younger sibling that has a crush on rodimus? Thanks for the help with how to inbox my request.

I've been noticing a trend with request for Rodimus lately. Our Co-Captain is getting some loving hours.

Hope you enjoy!

Perceptor's younger sibling who is scared easily with a crush on Rodimus

SFW, Romantic, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronian reader

MTMTE

Buddy had always been a jumpy bot.

Whether it be in the heat of the moment or in times of peace, something always had Buddy on edge about something.

“YYEEEP!”--Buddy

“What was it this time?”--Perceptor

“I thought I felt something on my pedes.”--Buddy

“Hmm.”--Perceptor

“Don’t ‘hmm’ me! I’m telling you I felt something on my pede and now its not there!”--Buddy

“Careful, you’re starting to sound like Red Alert.”--Perceptor

“Hey leave Red out of this!”—Buddy

“Yeah leave—”—Red Alert

“AHH!”--Buddy

“AHH!”—Red Alert

That being said, Perceptor is protective of his younger sibling.

He loves them, scaredy bot, and all.

He does try and help Buddy in his own ways by trying to rationalize everything, which helps them a bit, but too much.

Is willing to put a bot in their place if they try to make fun of Buddy for their jumpiness.

Primus forbid that someone does scare them with malicious intent.

He wasn’t a Wrecker for nothing.

Buddy had tried going to Ratchet or any other doctor or nurse to see if it was a medical problem.

“I don’t see anything bout of the ordinary here kid.”--Ratchet

“Nothing?”--Buddy

“Perfectly normal frame inside and outside. I think you just get jumpy too often. You can always go see Rung if it gets any worse.”--Ratchet

“Thank—”--Buddy

Whirl barging into the medbay.

“HAS ANYONE SEEN CYCLONUS OR PANIC BUTTON?”--Whirl

“Whirl! Please, you’re—”—Ratchet

THUNK!

Buddy passing out on the med slab with their spark beat going wild.

“Ohhh… Jumpy’s here.”--Whirl

“Yes…”--Ratchet

In the lab.

Perceptor looking up from his work.

“Is your Buddy sense tingling?”--Brianstorm

“Stop calling it that.”--Perceptor

“But it is!”--Brainstorm

“Brainstorm.”--Perceptor

“Perceptor.”--Brainstorm

Brainstorm saw this problem as a challenge and had asked Buddy if they were willing to be tested to see if he could solve the problem.

Buddy had never been raced out of the lab faster than at that moment.

“Brainstorm?”--Buddy

“Yes?”--Brainstorm

“Is this safe?”--Buddy

Buddy sitting on the lab table with several jumper cables clipped into their frame with a series of wires on their helm.

“Oh Buddy! Of course, it is relatively safe, in theory.”--Brainstorm

“In theory?”--Buddy

“Yes. Everything comes from a theory. Now whether this is a good theory is what we are about to answer now!”--Brainstorm

“Does Percy know?”--Buddy

“What he don’t, know wont hurt Buddy. Now let’s flip this—”--Brainstorm

“BRAINSTORM!”--Perceptor

“He sounds mad! What did you do!?”--Buddy

“Nothing!”--Brainstorm

“Brainstorm.”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Brainstorm

“…”--Buddy

“… I may have locked him in the closet before I grabbed you from Swerve’s…”--Brainstorm

“…You know, for one of the smartest bots on the ship, you sure can make a dumb decision.”--Buddy

“What--”--Brainstorm

BANG!

Perceptor kicking down the lab doors with his snipper rifle in his servos.

“AAHHHHH!”—Brainstorm and Buddy

No mercy from Percy.

Their friend group had gotten used to Buddy’s jump scares after the first few times.

Sometimes they were the cause of it.

Buddy would always laugh it up in the end.

They would never take it too far so it was all fun and games.

But there was one thing on board that made their spark run faster than the scares.

Rodimus Prime.

The captain was going to be the death of them, they were sure of it.

The two got along great, which wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that Buddy liked the reckless captain.

“Has anyone seen Rodimus? He should have been here by now.”--Buddy

“Nope.”--Chromedome

“No.”--Rewind

“Haven’t seen you’re Conjux since this morning.”--Brainstorm

“Conjux?! Brainstorm!”--Buddy

“Don’t lie to me Buddy I’ve seen how you two look at each other. Everyone on the ship practically knows about it.”--Brainstorm

“Oh don’t tease them Brainstorm.”--Chromedome

“thank you—”--Buddy

“Its not their fault that they are both oblivious to each others feelings.”--Rewind

“You too Rewind?”--Buddy

“I’m getting sick and tired of watch you two pine over each other.”--Rewind

“Who’s pining?”--Rodimus

“GAH! Roddy, don’t do that!”--Buddy

“Hahaha! You know you can’t be mad at me.”--Rodimus

“…One of these days I’m going to get a spark attack because of you.”--Buddy

With their friendship the amount of reckless stunts had gone down.

Something Ultra Magnus was grateful for.

Buddy the ever worry wart always tried to talk their captain from doing many reckless activities.

Most times they would work, but that would usually mean that he would try to do another activity that was less of a threat without Buddy looking.

Rodimus trying to get off the ship to go meteor surfing.

“Rodimus!”--Buddy

“Shh! Megs will hear you!”--Rodimus

“And? You are in no condition to go meteor surfing! You just got out of the medbay from last expedition.”--Buddy

“And I’m fine!”--Rodimus

“Please…”--Buddy

“…Fine. But you have to help me with some of the reports.”--Rodimus

“Deal.”--Buddy

“After I go and flip over the captains chair!”--Rodimus

Rodimus jumping and failing to do a flip landing on his faceplate.

“Roddy!”--Buddy

“Hmmm?”--Rodimus

“Hang on I’m bringing you to Ratchet.”--Buddy

“Nooo… I don’t wanna.”--Rodimus

Buddy throwing him over their shoulder like a sack of potatotes.

“Too bad Captain.”--Buddy

Key word try.

Buddy watched him sometimes like a hawk.

The other times that Buddy wouldn’t be able to talk him out of the activity ended up with Buddy joining.

Those time Rodimus would smile that smile of his that could literally light up a room.

“How did I end up here?”--Buddy

“What do you mean?”--Rodimus

“Here!”--Buddy

Buddy latched on a cord dangling from the ceiling by their chassis.

Rodimus on the ground with his arms wide open.

“I must have my circuits fired to even say yes to this!”--Buddy

“Nope, I just asked, and you said ‘yes’.”--Rodimus

“I know!”--Buddy

“Relax Buddy its just a trust fall!”--Rodimus

“Yeah! But I didn’t think it was going to be from this height!”--Buddy

“It’ll be okay! Just let go!”--Rodimus

“Let go?!”--Buddy

“Trust me Buddy! You’ll be all right! Just trust me!”--Rodimus

Buddy saying one more pray to Primus before detaching from the chord, screaming on the way down.

Rodimus catching them nearly falling on the floor too.

“See! I gotcha—Buddy?”--Rodimus

Buddy passing out.

Perceptor knew about Buddy’s little crush on the Captain.

While he would have wish it be on another crew member, he supposed that Rodimus wasn’t the worst of them all.

After talking it over with Drift, Perceptor decided that it would be a good idea to actually talk to Buddy about it.

“Percy?”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Perceptor

“What’s going on? We don’t usually have private talks like these. Wait! Did something bad happen to you?”--Buddy

“No, no, I asked you to meet me here to talk.”--Perceptor

“To… talk?”--Buddy

“Yes.”--Perceptor

“Okay, I’ll bite what did you want to talk to me about?”--Buddy

“Its about Rodimus.”--Perceptor

“What about him? Did some—”--Buddy

“Nothing happened to him…yet.”--Perceptor

“What?”--Buddy

“I noticed you and the Captain have been spending more and more time with each other. And if my theory proves me correst, you like him.”--Perceptor

“Umm… where did you—I mean, me and Roddy—I mean—”--Buddy

“Its okay.”--Perceptor

“What?”--Buddy

“I’m fine with you dating Rodimus.”--Perceptor

“Really! But doesn’t he annoy you? Especcially two days ago when he said ‘science is magic’. You nearly grabbed your riffle and made him into Swiss cheese.”--Buddy

“… Yes. I have taken that into account, but you are mainly going to be spending time with him. He wont be my Conjux, he’ll be yours.”--Perceptor

“Conjux!”--Buddy

“That was a joke.”--Perceptor

“It didn’t sound like it!”--Buddy

“How do you intend on telling him?”--Perceptor

“You’re just filled with questions aren’t you?”--Buddy

“I’m a scientist Buddy.”--Perceptor

“Yeah, but its not that simple Percy.”--Buddy

“How so?”--Perceptor

“I can’t just go up to him and say ‘Hey Roddy, I like you a lot. You want to go out with me? We can go to Swerve’s for our first date. We can drink, dance, and watch movies all night long’.”--Buddy

“What?”--Rodimus

“Don’t sound like that Percy—”--Buddy

“That wasn’t me.”--Perceptor

“Then who—”--Buddy

Rodimus standing in front of the door way.

Buddy’s fans kicking in before passing out.

“How long where you there?”--Perceptor

“Long enough to know Buddy already beat me to the chase and already had a date night planned.”--Rodimus

“…If you ever think or try to hurt them in anyway, I know how to shoot in between your seams and make you go through the worse pain imaginable before any medic comes to help you. Do I make myself clear?”--Perceptor

“Clear. And the thought of hurting them is the last thing I would want to do.”--Rodimus

“Good.”--Perceptor

“Yeah.”--Rodimus

“…”--Perceptor

“…”--Rodimus

“We should probably get Buddy to Ratchet.”--Rodimus

“Agreed.”--Perceptor

#transformers #transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #idw mtmte #mtmte x reader #mtmte perceptor #mtmte rodimus #mtmte rodimus x reader #mtmte perceptor x sibling

134 notes · View notes

wordsarelife · 4 months

Text

lockwood & co masterlist

fluff (f), angst (a), suggestive (s), platonic (p), injury/ blood (w)

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❛ 𝐢’𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 ❜

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𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 (34.9k)

blank space (0.7k) — normally lockwood can hide his feelings quite well. that talent seems to fade every time someone tries to flirt with his y/n (f,s)

peace (0.5k) — y/n is all that Lockwood needs, especially in the quiet moments (f,a)

sweet nothing (0.8k) — eating breakfast in bed (f)

stay, stay, stay (1.3k) — you never leave a fight unresolved (f,a)

delicate (0.5k) — some flirty banter in a near death situation (f,s)

king of my heart (1.8k) — there was always this flirty banter between you, without anything ever happening. one day you grow tired of it and leave lockwood to make a choice (f,a,s)

treacherous (1.3k) — How can it be that two people who grew up together hate each other so much? lockwood and you find out that love and hate are closer together than you had thought (f,a,s)

cruel summer (1.3k) — there’s just one bed, luckily you are the most brilliant person lockwood knows… or are you? (f,s)

you belong with me (1.6k) — you have to flirt to finish a mission. much to the dismay of lockwood you are far too good at it (f,s)

the way I loved you (pt 2 of ybwm) (1.2k) — lockwood is protective of what is his and in his own definition, you belong to him (f,a,s)

london boy (1.0k) — lockwood and you finish a study about what defines the greatness of a kiss (f,s)

it's nice to have a friend (0.3k) — you pass out after a dangerous encounter with a ghost (a,f,w)

enchanted (1.0k) — lockwood and you have been in love ever since you first met and it's been quite obvious for anyone else, but you two (f)

seven (sibling!reader) (0.5k) — a mission went badly and you and your brother console each other (f, a, p)

i did something bad (1.2k) — gathering information from a tied up and horny teenage boy should be easy enough, right? (s)

i think he knows (1.3k) — you have to admit your feelings for lockwood after your heartbeat goes through the roof at his touch (f)

change (1.4k) — lockwood realizes how much he missed of his sisters, the reader, life (a,f,p,w)

back to december (1.4k) — you had left lockwood in a night filled with regret and there was nothing you wanted more than to apologise to him (a,f,p)

the best day (0.4k) — domestic fluff with anthony lockwood (f)

this is me trying (1.1k) — you always try to save your friends life at the expanse of your own. this time you might've gone too far (a,p)

my tears ricochet (1.4k) — you save lockwoods life on a job but he can't save you.. but with a twist (a,w,f)

it's beginning to look a lot like christmas (0.5k) — lockwood is as cooky as usual, luckily you are used to it by now (f,s)

driving home for christmas (0.4k) — in which you come home for christmas surprisingly and lockwood can proof that his girlfriend is real (f)

the very first night (0.7k) — you celebrate your birthday for your friends only, lockwood celebrates your birthday for you (f,a,p)

lavender haze (1.2k) — despite kipps best efforts to keep you away from each other, lockwood won't stop flirting with you (f)

all american bitch (3.4k) — everbody knew that there was something wrong in the way your brother talked to you and lockwood wouldn't let you accept it any longer (f,a,s)

pretty isn’t pretty (0.8k) — he was showering you in compliments all while you felt like you weren’t pretty enough (f,a)

i forgot that you existed (0.6k) — lockwoods sibling had a bad day at school (f,p)

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𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐦 (8.2k)

daylight (0.6k) — early morning cuddles with your boyfriend (f)

mastermind (2.3k) — the team has to work together with kipps, for george that means being stuck with the best friend of the blonde leader, y/n. the only person in the whole world that seemed to be smarter than him, that's why he hated her. (a,f)

love story (0.8k) — hiding a relationship becomes a challenge when your bosses are lockwood and kipps, but y/n and george always seem to manage anyway… (f)

i knew you were trouble (0.7k) — you expressed your likeness for george all the time.. seems like he finally gets it (f)

ours (0.3k) — george tries to make reader go to bed (f)

mirrorball (0.7k) — george has been struggling and you help him (a,f)

fearless (1.7k) — george admires you deeply. not only because you're his girlfriend, but because you have an extraordinary gift (f/a)

snowman (1k) — a situation in which you are trapped, causes george and you to confess (f,)

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𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐬 (6.8k)

i know places (1.6k) — all hell breaks loose when your brother finds out about you and quill (f,s)

paper rings (1.5k) — you & quill are basically married, but when will he finally ask? (f)

today was a fairytale (1k) — you and quill go on your first date (f,s)

gold rush (0.8k) — loving quill kipps feels like a gold rush (f,a)

santa tell me (1.2k) — you and quill had been the parents of the group for years, but nothing ever happened between the two of you. now it’s finally time to change that, or atleast your friends think it is (f)

santa clause is coming to town (0.2k) — you and quill know each other so well, you could almost finish each others sentences (f)

under the mistletoe (0.5k) — you and your boyfriend get caught under the mistletoe (f)

you need to calm down (0.4k) — you and quill wind down after a long day (f,w)

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𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 (5.5k)

anthony lockwood, illicit affairs series (5.5k) — your secret relationship might not be enough for the future you have ahead of you (a,s,f) one, two, three part four (ending: afterglow) part four (ending: closure)

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𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩 (0.6k)

deck the halls (0.6k) — decorating cookies at portland row (f,p)

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49 works

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iconicstoner · 1 month

Note

I don't feel like Emmett gets enough love...maybe something where reader really wants his attention but he is hunting (or something like that) and really misses the feeling of his lips and hands...I'd also prefer to see how cheeky and lighthearted he can be...thank youuuu

a/n: I really loved writing this and thank you sm for the request! Emmett is a super underrated character and I always love getting to write about him. I hope you enjoy the story :)

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miss me?

gn!reader x emmett cullen (fluff)

words: 1243

summary: You can’t help missing Emmett, your boyfriend, while he’s away hunting. When he’s finally back he learns how much you missed him, which results in him playfully teasing you.

“Is it even fair that you’re playing Scrabble with us?” you ask Edward, frustrated about your losing streak. Esme, Carlile, Edward, and you are all playing Scrabble together in the living room. Alice and Rosalie are there too, but neither of them are playing. Rosalie is watching a soap opera and Alice is knitting something. She says it’s going to be a sweater, but it doesn’t really look like one.

“It’s Scrabble, not poker. Reading minds doesn’t exactly help me with this game,” Edward responds as he lays down the word fuliginous.

“What the fuck kind of work is fuliginous?” you ask, annoyed with him.

“It means sooty,” Edward said sassily. Carlisle laughed under his breath, trying to hide it. Carlisle and Esme had really embraced you as one of their kids, but like most siblings, you and Edward were always teasing each other about something. In fact, most people in this family were always teasing each other. It made everyone feel more human to not be so grim all the time. That’s what had originally attracted you to Emmett. He was always laughing or cracking jokes, and he reminded you not to take everything so seriously. That’s why when he first confessed his love to you, you thought it was just some joke. Right after, when he started kissing you, you realized it was serious.

“I forfeit,” Carlisle said.

“What?” You asked disappointedly. In the Cullen house it was widely agreed that if someone forfeit it felt like no one truly won.

“Yeah, he’s got nothing he can play,” Edward responded. Clearly his mind reading was helping him with Scrabble.

“Why do you seem so upset?” Esme asked you, softly touching your hand. At heart, she was such a mother.

“Because Scrabble was an effort to pass the time while waiting for Emmett to come back,” Edward responded while looking at you, trying to embarrass you. Yesterday, Emmett and Jasper left to go hunting together and they wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. Emmett returning had been all that you’d thought about since he left, and it was starting to drive Edward insane. You couldn’t get his lips off your mind. Cold, soft, always ready to kiss you with so much passion. The thought of his hands was even worse. You reminisced on how large and strong they were. You constantly replayed in your mind the memories of Emmett holding your hips like someone holding onto their favorite mug. Tightly, tight enough to never drop it, but gentle enough to not make it shatter.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be back early,” Alice tells you from across the room. “But when they’re back you might not be so happy about it,” Alice warns you playfully. Edward laughs, presumably having already seen whatever Alice predicted. You just roll your eyes and start to clean up the board game.

The next day you stayed in bed all morning watching reruns of your favorite show, hiding away under your comforter. You only got out of bed and got dressed for the day after Alice told you to “look presentable for when Emmett gets home.” Even if she also teased about how much you missed Emmett that weekend, you knew she’d understand. According to Edward, she’d been thinking about nothing but date ideas for when Jasper was back. You were biased, so of course you thought that you and Emmet were the cutest couple, but you had to admit Jasper and Alice were a very close second.

“They’re here!” Alice shouted excitedly from downstairs. You quickly rushed down, excited to see Emmett once again. It had been a long weekend, and even if you had infinite time with him, it never made the time away from him any easier.

“Hey, darlin’,” Jasper says as he walks through the front door, quickly grabbing Alice’s hand and kissing it gently. Emmett walked in a few seconds later and began to lean on the doorframe. He had one hand on his waist and the other propped up against the door frame, trying to look seductive. As always, it worked.

“Miss me, sweetheart?” Emmett asks you playfully. You laugh and he quickly walks over to envelop you in a hug, running his hands through your hair after he does.

“How do you know about that,” you ask confusedly, reluctantly removing yourself from the hug.

“Well, according to the rest of the family you just couldn’t stand to be without me. Constantly talking about how you miss my muscles and my mouth and my-”

“Okay, that’s enough,” you say, embarrassed. He wiggles his eyebrows at you and you have to try not to laugh.

“Y’know, I remember you thinking about how when you got Emmett alone again you were gonna-” You immediately cut Edward off the same way you had Emmett. It’s a miracle Emmett can’t blush, because he knows if he was human he’d be firetruck red.

“Oh, I’m gonna kill you,” you shout as you try to jump at Edward. Emmett quickly grabs you by the waist, pulling you back as you make an attempt to strangle Edward. You hear Emmet laugh at your antics as you send a piercing glare Edward’s way.

“Calm down, killer,” Emmett remarks lightheartedly. Edward hisses at you like a cat that’s been dumped in water, so you reach an arm out to him, pretending to try and claw at him.

“Oh! They’re having another cat fight!” Alice exclaims, causing the whole room to laugh.

“Let’s get you away from this moron,” Emmett jokes, throwing a cheeky glance at Edward. Without warning, he quickly throws you over his shoulder and begins to walk toward your bedroom. That vampire speed and strength really allows him to do anything. You make an attempt to playfully hit his back as you dangle from his shoulder, but it’s a fruitless endeavor. You hear small laughs from everyone else, but you're not even embarrassed. They’re your family.

“So, what was it you were gonna do to me when we’re alone?” Emmett asks playfully as he walks up the stairs, still carrying you. He sets you down on the ground when the two of you make it to your room, looking at you with an expectant smirk. You sit on the bed, and he looks down at you curiously.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” you tease.

“Don’t taunt me,” he warns with a grin. “Besides, I don’t blame you. Who could resist a big strong man like moi?” He asks as he begins to flex his biceps.

“Yuck,” you joke, pushing his arm away.

“Oh please,” he rolls his eyes playfully and sits down next to you. “I heard about how much you missed me. And my hands. And my lips.”

“I really will kill Edward,” You respond, deadpan.

“You’ll have to get through me first,” Emmett teases. He wraps his arms around you and flexes his muscles, causing them to tighten around you.

“No way, I’ll feel too bad when you lose,” you say, trying to hold back a smile as you pretend to be worried about him losing a fight to you.

“In your dreams,” he scoffs, removing his arms from around you, pretending to be hurt.

“In my dreams for sure,” you respond flirtatiously, causing Emmett to laugh.

“Dork,” he responds, kissing you right after. He would probably be teasing you about how much you missed him for a while, but that might be something you could get used to.

#twilight #emmett cullen #emmett x reader #the cullens #emmett cullen x you #emmett cullen x y/n #twilight fanfiction #twilight oneshot #twilight imagine #emmett cullen fanfiction #emmett cullen imagine #emmett cullen oneshot #emmett cullen teasing you bc of course he would

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telvess · 6 months

Text

Record of Ragnarok: What kind of pet do they have?

I'm like Tesla 🤣

Jack

I once read that people who are broken or haven’t experienced much love as children tent to choose animals that are less popular and sometimes seen as bad omens, such as black cats or ravens. So I see that Jack has a rat as a pet. They are intelligent and very clean animals, with an unfairly given bad reputation, and I think that suits Jack very well.

Nicola Tesla

Hear me out, Tesla is the proud owner of a turtle. There's a joke going around turtle owners that every time the turtle does something - such as yawns or falls asleep - you take a photo or video of it and happily show it to everyone. This is Tesla. The entire science crew has a mailbox full of this kind of spam, and their all sigh whenever Tesla sends them a new video of his pet doing absolutely nothing.

Poseidon

I think he likes animals in general. He despises humans and most gods for not behaving as they should, but animals are themselves. They do what is expected of them, they are excellent at being themselves, if that makes sense. So Poseidon probably has a dog that he has trained very well. The dog listens to all commends and generally behaves very well.

Hades

It’s canon that Hades has a pet - cockatoo. These animals require a lot of attention from their owner, which makes sense because we all know how lonely Hades is. He is literally playing chess with it! The parrot probably knows some fancy words like „magnificent” or „mellifluous”, and a whole bunch of wine names that it randomly says. Adamas, by the way, puts some effort into educating the bird too and incidently teaches it how to swear.

Beelzebub

Given how little he cares and how little he CAN care, the only option he has is fish. He gives it a good tank, he remembers to feed it and that’s it. They just exist. Damn… how depressing…

Loki

Two options. First: SAND ANT FARM. He watches it from time to time, mocking the ants for poor direction choices or just messing up with them for funnies. Second option is ferret. Loki finds them both annoying and interesting. There’s no boredom with them.

Ares

Ares thinks highly about himself, after all he is a part of the most powerful pantheon and the son of Zeus. He believes that he deserves only the best, which mean that whatever animal he gets, it will be a pure breed. If he chooses a cat or dog, it will receives a golden pillow to sleep on, a silver food bowl, the fanciest toys, the best caretakers, and… „the best owner”.

Thor

Thor has a cat. Most of the time they simply exist in their spaces and don’t interact. But every now and then a cat comes to Thor and demands a scratch, which Thor gives without hesitation. Loki once overheard Thor talking to his pet in those rare moments. Surprisingly, he speaks in a very gentle and caring tone, almost like mother to her child.

Hajun

He probably has a tank full of dead fish. Never cleaned, never fed, never bothered.

Lu Bu

Lu Bu has a pussy. He had no intention of having a pet, so the cat had to choose him, and Lu Bu obligated. He gives it lots of scratches and plays with it. Lu Bu is unfazed by the claws. Hearing her meow when he isn’t close puts him in a fighting stance. Nobody hurts his cat girl.

Hermes

Budgies! The guy has a lot of responsibilities, he's probably the last to fall asleep and the first to wake up, but he still finds time for his melodious pets. They always get the best snacks and for some unknown reason they become very excited when Zeus is around.

Göll

She has hamster, as small and cute as she is. Göll tries very hard to provide it a happy life, which probably means she’s trying too hard. She asks all his sisters for advice, and knowing how many siblings she has, she probably ends up with very conflicting opinions.

Zerofuku

Definitely rabbit. They are both full of energy, do not pose a threat and just enjoy themselves on a clearing somewhere.

Buddha

He doesn't have a pet, but he occasionally looks after Zerofuku’s and Göll's pets. He complains that he doesn't have time and that he doesn't care, but in the end he has a great time with the rabbit and hamster.

Noah

I think he ends up with a pigeon. He just feeds it from time to time in the same place and slowly tames it. Before he knows it, the bird becomes a new part of his life. He tells it about his problems, about Luna, Jack, Mother Goose and Shakespeare. This pigeon has therapeutic properties.

Qin

Definitely a husky. I see just two idiots keep talking to each other and arguing over nothing. The more the emperor demands something, the louder the husky's tantrum will be.

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onyondump · 3 months

Text

Cloudy

Arthur Shelby x F!Reader

Synopsis : Arthur married you on the basis of business but he can’t help but feel insecure as his new wife avoids his gaze.

Note : I don't drink and have never been in a relationship so im unqualified to write about it but whatever

GRAMMAR BAD, DON’T EAT ME!

Arthur’s drunk again. A celebration was held in honor of another company milestone at The Garrison this time with the entire Shelbys and Grays present along with their most loyal allies and employees. All was present except for you.

You were supposed to be Tommy’s so-called ‘gift’ to Arthur. Another way to say he had done a deal with another family that needed their girl married to a man, just like the Lees. Except, Arthur deem himself not as lucky as his younger brother with his bride. You were unusually quiet, never even smiling at your own wedding.

Deep down Arthur knew this would happen. His father always told him that all a woman's good for is to comfort men thus he never really tried to court any, only finding comfort in hired women. It bites him in the ass of course, seeing his younger brothers building a family with the women they love while he drinks and rots away at the pub. He was never really the smartest one of the siblings.

On the night of the wedding he opt to getting drunk and banging other ladies at the reception. A part of him just wanted to let out steam but the other part wanted you to react but you never did. When the news hits you all you said to him was ‘Good for you?” with a confused look on your face. He almost thought you were mad, what kind of reaction is that? It’s like you're treating him like a co-worker just having a normal conversation about what they did during the holiday.

He could never get mad at you though, you kept his house tidy,cooked warm dinner when he got home, and never complained when he came home drunk or bloodied. Often times he would see you occupied in craft or reading only glancing at him when necessary. It hurts his pride to be ignored by his own wife but overtime he starts to treat your indifference as normal as he continues to visit brothels to try to mend his broken ego.

Now he’s walking wobbly on the lonely streets back home to his stone faced wife. The dark skies are whirling all around his eyes and the pouring rain louder then usual assaults his ear drums. How many bottles of whiskey did he drink to get this drunk? He lost count, all he wants to do is to shut his eyes.

When he arrives home it's already past midnight but the light from the windows are still bright. He opens the door seeing you reading a crimson covered book without lifting her eyes off the pages.

“Y/N! You should pay attention when someone enters a room, we have enemies” slurring through his words he tries to get rid of his now soaking weighted coat.

You arch your brows in question, “I know what your footsteps sounds like, if you were an intruder I would have shot you by now”. He huffs, thinking how typical for you to say that like you know everything. In his frustration, he aggressively tries to shake himself off his soaked clothes. His eyesight only seeing the pooling wet floor under him, thinking how typical of him to be this foolish.

A fuzzy towel ruffles his hair trying to dry it from the rain water. You had stood up to help him dry off, and undress him to his underwear. He’s too drunk to even freak out about being naked in front of her, just relieved to be separated from his soaked clothes.

“C’mon I still have some warm water left” you hold his rough hands guiding him to the bathroom where a tub of warm water awaits.

“I was going to soak in it after I read in case you come home in the morning” you let him soak in the warmth of the water, as you began to lather his body with soap diligently covering every crevice of his body like you had done this multiple times before.

“Why do you do this?” his voice low and rough

Your brows arch again at the question, “What? Why wouldn’t I?”

He snapped his head towards her suddenly “Cause you hate me” his voice was weak and tired, his eyes were clouded almost like he wasn’t even looking at you.

You can feel your heartbeat fasten. Arthur was well known to be an outgoing and loud person, seeing him be this quite worried you especially his eyes. Those eyes you see countless times when you would tend to your depressed and hateful father.

After a couple seconds of them staring at each other, a splash broke your trance.

“DO YOU PITY ME WOMEN?? IS THAT WHY YOU AVOID ME EYES? DO YOU SEE THE DEVIL IN ME TOO?” his eyes widen in anger at you, his own self hatred consumes him as he stared back at your dumbfounded look

Hoping Arthur didn’t see you finch at his sudden burst of sound, you take a deep breath before answering “I don’t hate you” your voice firm yet soft trying to convey your sincerity.

Shame washes over him realizing he just yelled at the person who’s trying to help him. His eyes avert yours “Then why didn’t you smile at our wedding?”

A sudden cold air struck your lungs as your own eyes widened. This marriage had been an unexpected thing in your life but you never hated it, so why DIDN’T you smile? Your rough hands wrapped around itself as you try to answer his question logically “This marriage is just a contract between our families. I didn’t see the need to look happy at a work event”

A burst of laughter echoes through the room. “A work event ey? This is just work to you” you can feel the pain in his voice, despite being arranged to marry you he still hope to be a happy partner with you.

Only now did you realize that you had been hurting his feelings. You thought you just had to do basic marital obligation for him, not once did you realize that you needed to put work onto your own feelings with him.

“Forgive me Arthur. I’m…I’m what you call inept in these kinds of emotional things.”

His hands wave at you dismissively “I don’t blame you luv. I’m not as smart or attractive as my brothers. I get it now” the water’s started to grow cold

“I think your plenty smart and attractive Art plus your the first born” you slowly try to continue to wash him

“What does that have to do with anything?” his faces the wall, not wanting to look at you

Being bold, you took his chin gently to face you “How did you figure they grow up to be so smart? Or healthy? Or attractive? Was it your dad who left you every night?”

HIs eyes widened at your words

“You were the one who worked with your Aunt to make sure your siblings can at get the education they need and put food at the dining table. You were the one who took the blame whenever your father came home drunk. You were the ones to look after your brothers back at the army so they can arrive safe back home.” your hands instinctively slither around his hands warming them as the water of the tub starts to grow cold.

“I’m the oldest too”

A silent understanding bloomed between you two. You helped him clean up and as he get dressed you cooked him a meal before bed. During that time you two go on through the routine without talking but with the air feels lighter than it did a day ago.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been avoiding your gaze Art”

“I was being dramatic, I should have talked to you instead of getting drunk” his mind now a bit more clearer as he lay in the comfortable mattress

“As long as your safe and honest with me I think I could excuse anything you do after all you are a Shelby I would have already ran away if I wasn’t prepared”

“Is that why you avoid me all this time? So you don’t get hurt?”

“Part of it is yea but the other part is just I never really had any experience with a romantic partner before” you get in under the blanket with him

He chuckled “That’s just a fancy way of saying your a virgin"

“I don’t want to hear that from someome who calls himself the devil like some hormonal teenager” as you try to wave him off and prepare to sleep he grabs your arm, forcing you to meet his gaze

“Kiss me. Prove to me that your willing to try this thing and not just saying promises for the sake of it” frim and anticipating your reaction his once cloudy eyes are clear and bright

You breathe in to compose yourself “Fine” Hesitantly you close your eyes tight, pursing your lips like a goldfish as it finally makes contact with his own thin lips. When you lean back to see his reaction you see a mischievous smile like he finally got the upper hand on you.

“What a prude!”

#arthur shelby #peaky blinders #arthur shelby fanfic #arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby x y/n

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punkeropercyjackson · 2 months

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