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ticktokrobotsnot · 11 months

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Turbulence

This is part 1.

You can read Part 2 here

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader

Summary: An accountant helps Carmen organize his shit-hole restaurant.

Word Count: 14k

warning: panic attacks, stabbing Richie in the ass, mentions of suicide, tax evasion lol

After years of working in restaurants as an in-house accountant, Y/n met a lot of chefs. They were all the same, especially the good ones, and the worst part was that they all thought they were so unique and tortured. They assumed that their problems justified them yelling over a broken sauce or a pierced piece of veal. They made food look pretty and they served it to people. Women have been doing that for years and you don't have people praising them for that. Now some guy with a complex does it and its art, it's magical, it's jaw dropping. No, it was a waste of time and energy.

It was food, a necessity and they had perverted it to some freak art show with conflicting flavors and overall mayhem. It was like a cult, where they convinced everyone that their ossobuco for breakfast, coq au vin for lunch, escargots de bourgogne for dinner, and crème brûlée for dessert wasn’t making them physically sick, mixing different cuisine in a failed attempt at being different. It was regular food served small, but the pretentiousness made y/n more sick than their food.

Y/n was willing to concede that Carmen wasn’t the worst chef she met. She got a job at the French Laundry a few years back and there really wasn’t a word that could adequately describe him because to her, Carmen was nothing but a shell of a man.

In their brief encounters, y/n knew Carmen didn’t have a life outside of cooking. She would watch the chefs come in at the ass crack of dawn and Carmen was always there first. Even when he came to pick up his check at the end of the day, he would grab it before running back to the kitchen to check up on some marinated before he left. The stupid hunk of meat deserved more of his attention than the women handing him his paycheck. She had to refrain her self from screaming, “Look at me you stupid fuck, I’m here giving you your paycheck, look me in the fucking eyes. That steak isn’t going to do anything but get shit out in a few hours! I'm real, look at me.”

It was an immature and one-sided hate, Carmen didn’t really deserve it. However, she found it hard to resist seeing him as an easy target, given his passive nature and frustrating obliviousness to the situation. She never actually did anything crazy like mess with his paycheck or fuck with his W-2, it was more like glaring at him when no one was looking or taking a pen that feel out from his bookbag, holding on to it for a few days, and then dropping it near his locker a few days later. It was very harmless and it felt nice to finally have someone to bother, without actually bothering them.

Every so often he would do something that would make it difficult to hate him fully. He would open the door for her when they were the first to come into work, or he would help her pick up some files that she dropped, or put that very pen back in her cup holder because he assumed that the pen was her pen to begin with. If he had said a single word to her, y/n would probably have had a bit of a crush on him but he never did, infact y/n never heard his voice. Her office was quite a walk from the kitchen so she was left wondering if he belonged to the boisterous brigade of chefs who bellowed at anything in their path, or if he truly possessed the quiet demeanor he exuded. If he were to speak a single syllable, he would transform from a mere embodiment of her job dissatisfaction into a fully-formed individual.

That's why she was confused when she got a phone call weeks after Carmen mysteriously left. The resignation was a shock to y/n, she never once expected him to quit, she thought he would die on top of the stove when his heart finally checked out from all that fat, sugar and acid at 65. She remembered mindlessly sticking his last paycheck in an envelope to ship to Chicago, maybe he got a better job there at Venteux, Brindille, or Les Nomades. They must have sent an amazing poacher for him to leave just about everything in his locker but his backpack and never look back.

“Hello, is this y/n?” Y/n sat up on her couch wondering who was calling her at 9pm on a Tuesday.

“Yeah…Who is this?’ Y/n wondered if one of her friends gave out her number without asking her again. Even if this guy had a nice voice and sounded handsome she would have to reject him based on principle.

“It's Carmen…Berzatto… from the French Laundry.” Y/n dropped her phone in shock, not knowing what knocked the wind out of her lungs more, the fact that she was getting a call from an ex-employee, the fact that he had her number in the first place, the fact that she was getting this call scandalously late, or that he actually sounded like that. Jesus, he was really holding back on her.

“Are you still there?” Y/n grabbed her phone from the floor and gave him a simple, “Yes.”

“How have you…been?” He was unsure how to approach this and he would never do this unless he was desperate, which he was.

“I have been fine, I heard you moved to Chicago, a new exciting job?”

“That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” Y/n didn’t probe because this felt like payback for all the times that she said something to him hoping that he would fill the space just for him to walk into that stupid fucking kitchen and leave her standing around like a fool.

“Umm…It's a long story but I have this restaurant that needs a bit of accounting?” Y/n didn’t say anything and let him suffer in his own silence like she used to. She chose to flop down on her couch again.

“I'm not sure what the right word is, but the books are a mess and I was wondering if you could have a look.”

“Paid of course. Obviously I'm going to pay you.” He stumbled out. Finally, y/n thought, he was fumbling which was a nice change of pace from his usual stoicism.

“What’s the place's name?”

“The Beef.” Y/n sat up on her elbows.

“I have never heard of it before, how many stars does it have?”

“It doesn't have any.”

“Okay…okay?…” Y/n was assuming that he started working at some nepo babies new pet restaurant, the pay must be amazing for him to leave like that. A part of her was proud of Carmen for choosing money over his craft.

Y/n continued, “Give me the owner’s number and we can get the details together.”

“I'm the owner.” She didn’t think that she could be rendered speechless by a guy who would probably combust if you squirted cheese-wiz within a 10 feet radius of him.

Y/n composed herself, he was calling for her which means that he needed her. She had the leverage and she wouldn’t ruin it by babbling like an idiot. “I can come by next week.”

She heard a distant sigh, “That's…yeah…yeah, that's great, we will cover travel and get you a place to stay.” Y/n wanted to be a bitch and demand first class and a five star hotel but she had a feeling that he would actually think she was being serious.

“I’ll send over the information, y/n.” The sound of her name coming out his lips felt foreign, she had never heard her name spoken like that.

“Good night, Carmen.” Just as she was about to hang up the phone she heard a quiet, “She said yes?” He doubted her. Good, y/n thought, he should doubt her, he doesn’t know anything about her and that was entirely his fault. She hung up the phone and searched up The Beef, she found a hundred restaurants with the same name. What the hell was Carmen doing at a restaurant that couldn’t even come up with an original name.

She gave herself a week to prepare even though she didn’t have a job anymore. She quit a few days after Carmen did, she had lost all motivation to go there everyday, without a target she was just flying till she splattered on the ground.

The underlying reason for her self-imposed week of preparation was a strategic move to play hard to get. Y/n wanted Carmen to realize her value and understand that he needed her and that she was just as good as him, if not better.

Immature, petty, bitchy, difficult, mean; maybe her mother was right about her after all.

A week flew by and she was at baggage claim when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around and saw a short woman in a blue apron and an eye-sore of a bandana.

“I'm Sydney, I'm new. I’m here to pick you up, Carmen says he’s sorry couldn’t do it but we have to prep for the lunch rush.” The way that Sydney looked when speaking about Carmen showed that she had a deep respect for him and a small evil part of y/n wanted to convince Sydney that Carmen was actually tied to the mob or did ballet in his spare time. Something that would knock him off of a pedestal and make him more like a person and less like a God.

Y/n picked up her luggage and wordlessly rolled it over to where Sydney had it parked. The ride to the restaurant was filled with questions that she really didn’t know the answer to, What was Carmen like in New York? What was a dish of his that y/n liked the most?

Sydney should have asked what his salary was, that y/n knew like the back of her hand. Y/n answer those questions by repeating things that other people have said about Carmen. His plum desert was to die for, he was very methodical in the kitchen, and he ran a tight ship, what more could she possibly know?

Sydney finally pulled over in a rough neighborhood and y/n wondered if Sydney needed to do an errand before they finished their journey but when she saw through the window that another guy was wearing the same color apron as Sydney, she knew that this was the famous “The Beef'' that took Carmen away from her. It wasn’t even called “The Beef'' it was called, “The Original Beef of Chicagoland '' which was somehow even worse.

Y/n told Sydney that she needed a few moments to herself and when Sydney slipped inside, y/n started sprinting towards the pub next door. She gave the bartender a sob story about how she was looking for a job next door as a waitress and how she wanted to know what the situation was next door, for her safety, before she asked for a job. The bartender bought her story and gave her a quick review of what had happened. The previous owner killed himself, shot his brains out, and now it was under new management, the old guy’s brother. Yikes didn’t even begin to cover what y/n thought but that was the best she could come up with, so...Yikes.

She ran back to the restaurant, fixed up her hair and walked in like she didn’t just hear a horrific story that was going to make it very difficult to do her job.

Y/n walked in, and she felt like she was in an alternate dimension, y/n was by no means spoiled and she had eaten in worse places than this, but the thought that Carmen Berzatto, her Carmen Berzatto, was working in a place like this felt like a joke. She wondered how stupid he looked in his chef whites, slicked back hair, and annoying long apron that looked like a skirt.

The restaurant hadn’t opened yet but she was greeted by a woman named Tina who basically rolled her eyes at y/n and then disappeared into the kitchen. Sydney chirped in with a comforting, “Yeah…she’s like that.” Y/n gave her an understanding smile. She wasn’t expecting much because nobody likes an intruder.

“Carmen said I need to look at some books. Do you know where they are…or where he is so he can tell me where they are?”

“Sdy, can you cover for me.” Y/n’s head snapped up, she recognized that voice from the phone call and was rendered speechless twice. He wasn’t wearing those migraine inducingly ugly chef whites but regular clothes with a blue apron. He had many more tattoos than she thought. His hair wasn’t slick back with gel but it was actually relaxed barring any sweat that might have pushed his hair back. Carmen was buff, which was such a shock to her that she really did feel like this was not real. And lastly, he called this “new” chef Sdy, a nickname. They were close, and y/n couldn’t explain it but that made her eyes twitch. She worked so hard to get to know him the first few months at the French Laundry and got nothing and now “Syd” got a nickname.

She took a deep breath before, “It's been a while.”

“Thanks for coming, let me show you the books.” She was surprised to hear any form of thanks from him but the lack of small talk was really nothing new. She followed him through the kitchen and heat from all the stoves made her nauseous. There was a lot of yelling and it looked like it was an overall mess both aesthetically wise and teamwork wise.

They finally got to the office, it had a worn desk littered with what looked like a fuck ton of papers, scratch that bills. Y/n looked up at Carmen who looked…ashamed. She took a deep breath before sitting down on the chair and looked up at Carmen waiting for him to give her a rundown of everything. They were behind on every bill imaginable, they hadn’t been able to pay vendors, and there were quotes for broken machines. Looks like Carmen’s brother left him a real shit show.

This felt like winning the lottery, not only was she seeing an interesting puzzle for her to solve, she was able to see Carmen look human for once. It was a shame, however, that the only human emotion that he was showing was stress but something was better than nothing. One thing that was untouched was the payroll, he never was behind on paying his workers, y/n felt a slight tug in her chest but she ignored that.

He looked down at her, and asked, “I’m going to leave this with you…umm….” And then he left the kitchen. Y/n starting grabbing floating folders and organizing. Most of the stuff was kinda sorted, but stuff like old payroll documents were in a file called “shit”, so she thought a total revamp was necessary.

It felt like y/n was an intern again, resigned to tedious work. After a few hours and a quick trip to Staples for office supplies, she had made the cluttered desk look like her old desk in the French Laundry…empty, sterile, cold.

With a deep breath she left the kitchen to find Sydney so she could unlock her car so that y/n could grab her laptop. The heat was bad, but the yelling was mind scrambling. It felt like she was dropped in a war zone trying to find where she parked her car, an innocent civilian amongst the war torn soldiers. She couldn’t be here any longer, she practically ran over to Sydney and asked for her car keys and was mindlessly directed to some lockers. Y/n could tell that she was busy so she didn’t ask which one in particular.

She started opening random lockers, and after her third one she saw a familiar sight. A brown wool jacket, the same one she had seen Carmen wear in New York, she quickly shut the door. This was too much, he was becoming a bit too human, too real. She finally found the right locker and rushed to get her laptop and the rest of her luggage and shut the office door.

She spent the first quarter of her day digitizing payroll as a quick warm up, she had a feeling that she would need it.

Y/n moved on to a leather bound book under a gas bill and after a quick glance she knew that this was going to be a fucking disaster. Whoever did the books used different coloured pens, was writing outside the lines, circling stuff randomly, doodling, and this was just the visual disaster, the closer she looked at the chicken scratch the more she realized how deep in debt this palace was. Thousands of dollars were being drained seemingly randomly and then money was being put back just as chaotically. There was no record of how the money was being spent or where the money was coming from. Even though y/n didn’t know Carmen very well she knew he would never do this, it was that brother of his. The inside of the cover said Micheal Berzzato.

She spent the rest of the day organizing the accounts payable and receivables. It was like trying to go through a dense forest with a pair of nail clippers but she got through a fraction of it. She already knew that the money wouldn’t add up and that if they got audited, the restaurant would be in deep shit.

She had her headphones in and nearly fell off her chair if Carmen didn’t brace her when he came in unannounced. Her heart practically shot out of her ass but she pulled herself together.

“I thought you would have left by now.”

Y/n looked at the time on her laptop and saw that it was 11:30pm, she was a bit impressed with herself. Look at me Carmen, I can also throw myself at my work and I didn’t need people to think I'm God’s gift to man.

“I lost track of time, is the restaurant still open?” Carmen shook his head. Y/n sat up and ushered him to the chair. She didn’t like it when people hovered over her and she wanted Carmen to look up at her for once. She placed her left hand on the back of his chair and her right on the laptop’s trackpad.

“Your payroll needed to be updated, no one does this on paper anymore.” Y/n showed him how to move things around, how to change certain information, etc and she was expecting him to half heartedly listen but was pleasantly surprised when he sat there and listened. He asked meaningful questions which almost made her fall over, he wanted to learn and that was very… admirable. Y/n had to snap herself out of it, of course he was listening, she was brought here to fix and teach, and she wasn’t cheap either.

She then directed him to the organized files and how to maintain file organization in case he was ever audited. He stared with such intensity that she had to turn around and pretend that she was looking for a file. She spent her entire career working in a building where almost no one knew her name, or really looked at her. The chefs were busy with their eye filets and lobster to look at her, management spoke to her through emails but now she was center stage which was making it hard to focus.

She ended her presentation with a short run down of the order that he should pay off certain bills based on priority. She finally looked down at him and was surprised that he was still looking back at her.

“Wow…all that in a day?” Y/n only presented 50% of the work she did today, omitting the illicit money transactions Micheal had orchestrated, and here Carmen was looking at her like she was God’s gift to him.

“It’s going to take a while to decipher this,” holding up the leather book, “but it's not impossible.”

Carmen parted his lips before closing them a few times, “How long can you stay here? Like how many vacation days did you take?”

Y/n debated telling him that she still had a job back home but there really wasn’t any point in lying to make herself look good for Carmen. Y/n was never one to be unnecessarily cruel, just a bit of a nuisance, so she would give him a bit of satisfaction. It was to make up for what she put him through in New York. She pretended to search for something on her laptop while avoiding Carmen’s eyes beneath her.

“I don’t work there anymore.” Carmen’s head shot up and he wondered if he had heard that correctly. He wanted to ask why she left but he knew that would be crossing a line.

“What are your future plans?” Y/n looked up and wondered that as well.

She knew she had to leave French Laundry, she hated the long hours, overbearing bosses, and most of all she hated the people she worked with. There was a team of accountants who worked near her and even though she did the majority of the work she always had to fight to get a seat at the table. She was smart, talented, and competent but she was always officially relegated to payroll even when she was the one who spent weeks organizing binders filled with projection just for some jackass to get the credit. The issue wasn’t just her coworkers but her bosses that assumed that someone else had done the research and let her present, and infuriatingly no one ever corrected management. Add all of that with the loss of what she considered her only acquaintance, she ran as fast as she could.

As for future plans, she had enough money to live a relatively nice life even if she didn’t find work for a year. She hated the French Laundry but she couldn’t sell them short, they paid her very well.

“I don’t know, I will probably have to find a new job.” That piqued Carmen’s interest, he assumed that she had another job lined up because y/n didn’t seem like the type to get up and leave without an exit strategy.

“If you're interested…” Carmen didn’t want to get his hopes up but he knew that he needed her here, this couldn’t work without someone like her. “You can always work here.”

Carmen’s head was swimming, if she said yes that would make his life a million times easier. He might actually be able to sleep a full eight hours.

Y/n didn’t really know how to respond, she didn’t hate the idea. “Am I going to be the only one working finance here?” Carmen’s chest fell, of course this was too much for one person.

“Yeah but if you need more peo-”

“Just me is fine. I don’t like working with other people.” Clear and blunt, y/n didn’t want to waste his time.

“Yeah..” Carmen looked one last look at the computer screen with the filled excel sheets that transformed his brother’s horrible business practices to legible spreadsheets and he knew he definitely needed her.

“What time do you want me to come tomorrow?”

“Whenever is good for you?”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “You are paying for my services so act like it.” What she said was rude and slightly uncalled for.

Carmen looked up at her and felt like he was back in New York again, like when he was too scared to talk to her or when he would catch her glaring at him from the corner of his eye. Carmen knew she didn’t like him but if he needed her so what could he do, most of his staff already hated him so what was one more.

Y/n sighed, she tried to intimidate him to force him to toughen up but it looks like it just made him clam up. “That was really rude for me to say, but I think you need to hear it.” Y/n had a feeling that he was going to remember this so she thought she started to do damage control.

“All I ever hear about your food is how amazing and jaw dropping and delicious and mind blowing it is. You are very..” Y/n struggled to find a neutral word that would allow her to lift his spirits but not too high, “..competent. Your staff however…”

That got Carmen to pick up his head, “They are goo-”

“And I bet they are good but you can’t do your job and show off their skills and talents if they all walk around you like that. Can I be frank with you?” Carmen slowly nodded his head.

“I don’t see your restaurant lasting very long with the crew you have here.” Carmen knew that but hearing it out loud stung. “You have to make a few changes, either swap out a few annoying chefs or make them change.”

A few hours prior, y/n’s curiosity had gotten the best of her and she looked through Sydney’s resume. It was stacked with good restaurants and she even had a brief stint at catering, y/n didn’t hesitate to admit that Sydney was just as capable as Carmen.

“Get Sydney more involved, she can do much more than what you have her doing now.” Y/n saw Sdyney’s pay which showed that she was getting paid a regular chef salary, she deserved sous-chef. Carmen nodded his head but he was looking away, in his mind he wondered how she could possibly even know that while sitting in his office all day.

“They’re used to doing things a certain way.”

“I'm guessing fear is not your management style.” Y/n pondered how she would fix a situation like this if she was in his shoes. “I would say avoid baptism by fire.”

Y/n continued, “It's going to be a mess but you just need to lead the kitchen like you did in New York for the first few days and then transfer the responsibility to Sydney who will be watching the entire time so she isn’t thrown into a pile of shit on her first day and quit. That way you can continue to do whatever you were doing in New York.”

It had never occurred to Carmen that y/n didn’t know what he did, but then again he barely knew what she did. He would watch her typing away or he would hear fragments of urgent phone calls about audits, and give out checks. But other than that he didn’t know what she did for the rest of her day, so he had to swallow his discontentment with her not noticing him because he was no better than her.

“I think you need to expect more from people, you don’t have to do everything by yourself.” Y/n concluded.

It was quiet barring the sound of the lights buzzing. Just as y/n was about to slip out, Carmen swiftly stood up and walked out the office towards the kitchen and started pulling out bowls.

“I thought you said that this place was closed, what are you making?”

“What do you want to eat?” Carmen wasn’t looking at her as he grabbed a knife and a cutting board.

“Umm…You don’t need-”

“Give me something, y/n”

“It's late, Carmen.”

“You’ve been here all day and you didn’t eat anything…” Y/n gave him a disapproving look.

“Y/n.” He asserted, she couldn’t leave in good faith without eating something.

She didn’t fail to notice that when he lost control back in the office he came rushing out to re-assert his power by forcing her to eat something he was going to make.

“I don’t know…something easy and wont fuck up my stomach.” Y/n conceded.

Carmen smirked, and y/n was able to appreciate his objective handsomeness. After a few minutes of chopping she was presented with a simple salad.

“I tried to replicate the salad dressing from what I smelled from the last time I went to your office.” Y/n was shocked, she didn’t know that he noticed stuff like that, she was also amused that he had a great nose, both functionally and aesthetically.

Y/n was also surprised when Carmen asked her, “Why did you leave?”

“Why did you?” Y/n countered, she knew the answer but she assumed that he wouldn’t tell her. This felt like a decent way to manufacture some space. One step forward for making a meal and 2 steps back for asking probing questions.

“My brother used to own this place…and he died…killed himself.” Carmen was full of surprises today.

Y/n mumbled out, “I hated working there so much I would crawl out of bed hoping that I would fall, crack my head open and never have to step foot in there anymore… I would be gagging a block away from work every single day because I couldn’t stomach another second in my office.”

Y/n assumed that Carmen couldn’t relate, he was a god back in New York.

“I used to throw up every morning.” Y/n put her fork down and looked up at Carmen who continued. “And I would get these heat flashes while I was there even when the kitchen was like negative three-thousand fucking degrees.”

They were never good enough.

It was an embarrassing thing for both of them to admit, they tried to survive in New York and failed because they were weak, but at least they were in good company.

“My boss was a dick. He used to say crazy shit just to get a rise out of me.” Y/n didn’t know that Carmen had a boss, she just assumed that he ran the kitchen.

“Who was your boss?” Y/n went down her rolodex of names before landing on, “That guy with the huge forehead?”

Carmen covered his mouth with his hand but she knew there was a smile underneath. She was able to get a good look at his tattoo, she had only caught glimpses when he would grab an envelope from her or hold the door. At the time she thought it was out of place but seeing the whole picture, Carmen with his wavy hair, gold chain, smirk, and arm littered with tattoos she realized that she was missing out on a lot.

Y/n finished her salad and helped him clean up before they locked up the restaurant and Carmen stuffed her luggage in the trunk.

“You’ve seen our books..”

Y/n gave a small hum.

“So you know that we can’t put you in a hotel for weeks.”

“If I'm not staying at a hotel, where am I going?” Y/n was ready to jump out of the car if he said his house.

“I have a family friend of a friend who is visiting family down in Florida, and she said you can stay there.”

A weight was lifted off of y/n shoulders, y/n was feeling bold, “You’ve ever been to Florida?”

“I went once to check out a few restaurants when I was younger, you?” Y/n hid it well but she was shaking in nerves because it was the first time in years that she was getting some small talk out of him.

“I went to Disney with my family and got a heat stroke. How long is your family friend of a friend staying in Florida?”

“More than 2 months later, she left like a few days ago.” That caused some concern for y/n, she was going to stay in a house that had been abandoned for a few days in a new city, it was like the beginning of a B - rated horror film. The possibility of a serial killer waiting to turn her into a lamp shade was probably close to zero but it still freaked her out. Carmen pulled into the driveway carrying all of her bags leaving her with just her purse.

They approached the front of the house and Carmen opened the door and started placing the suitcases near the entryway, and y/n kept the door open, and Carmen got the hint. She wasn’t going to forge some type of artificial connection by asking him to help her walk through the house for any intruders because that would require her to rely on him.

To y/n, Carmen was unreliable, he could ignore her for years, only to suddenly offer her rides and engage in small talk. What puzzled her even more was his transition from avoiding eye contact to intensely staring her down. Y/n could tell from the sound that leaked from under the office door that he had an underlying temper, a bad one too. She didn’t want to be swept up in his current and be left high and dry. He seemed like he picked up things quickly and left them just as sporadically. While she recognized his passion for food and cooking, ensuring her job stability, Carmen was…unsteady.

Y/n knew people like him, people who hurt those who were close to them when they felt trapped. What feared y/n the most was what would eventually come out of her mouth if they ever got too close and Carmen said something to make her go away. He would say something vile and y/n would probably say that he is nothing, or that he is a failure, or that it should have been him and not his brother.

The thought of saying something so profoundly awful and untrue haunted her, making it impossible for her to bear the weight on her conscience. She had crossed that line before and was acutely aware of her limits. Carmen represented that limit—a boundary she couldn't afford to cross—rendering him off-limits in her life.

Carmen left a quiet goodbye and y/n gave him one back before shutting the door grabbing a knife and going through each of the rooms herself. She didn’t need him or anyone.

Once she went through the house with a fine tooth comb she locked herself in one of the bedrooms, got ready for bed. Her lease in New York expired in a few weeks so she knew she had to fly back to grab her stuff. She couldn’t sleep in this grandma’s house any longer so she grabbed her laptop and started looking for apartments.

Y/n woke up to the sound of her alarm and she felt nauseous before she remembered that she wasn’t crawling back to the French Laundry, she was trying something new. She got ready and spent the whole morning calling realtors and scheduling showings. She took the train to The Beef and when she came in, it looked like they were about to have some type of meeting outfront. Y/n slipped into the office and was momentarily shocked that Carmen was there. She put her bag behind the chair while Carmen was sitting, subtly telling him to fuck off and that this was her desk now. Carmen got up, “What a good boy? So smart”, y/n chuckled in her head.

“What is happening out front? Do I need to sit in?”

“We need to introduce you and we are going to transition to a french brigade, I just spoke to Sydney..”

“How did she take it? You told her you were going to take the lead or did-?”

Carmen was checking his watch obsessively, “She will be fine.” Looks like Carmen was in a hurry and so y/n didn’t even wait for Carmen to open the door before she walked over to the meeting.

She didn’t sit down because there wasn’t a chair for her. She saw the other chefs look at her but no one bothered to ask any questions. Sydney was standing right next to her and y/n saw that she was rehearsing her lines that were written in a small black notebook.

“Don’t mention the role titles, it's just going to scare them off.” Sydney looked up at her. “And keep it short and don’t fumble your words, you’ll sound like a fourth grader.” Sydney opened her mouth but was cut off by Carmen walking out front.

Carmen started explaining about how they were getting new aprons, how he wanted to reorganize the kitchen, and how they needed to be clean. He did not yet explain the elephant in the room to the rest of the chefs; who was y/n and what the hell is she doing here? Carmen was interrupted by a tall man walking in very late.

He took one look at y/n before pointing at her with a coffee cup, “Who are you? Cousin, why are you collecting women?”

“I am y/n, I am the new accountant.” Any form of teasing and snickering died down as a new worry washed over the staff, if Carmen was changing everything he might start changing staff. If y/n could sense it, then so could Carmen and just as she looked up to him for support he quickly excused himself because he had somewhere to be. He just left her to deal with this mess. See? Not stable.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

“Your not fucking firing anyone.” The tall guy threatened.

“Nobody is getting fired, no one is getting a pay cut and no one is getting replaced. If anything like that happens, that is Carmen’s decision.” Y/n allowed herself to throw Carmen under the bus just once because he left her.

“I’ll just be keeping the books in order.”

“Richie, sit down.” An older woman instructed.

“Carmen said something about a French brigade, it's essentially what you guys are doing just with more defined roles, it's not too different. Sydney will elaborate.” Y/n though she did an acceptable job not throwing Sydney head first like Carmen did and Sydney seemed to be a lot more comfortable then she was a few minutes ago. She didn’t title drop and she didn’t fumble. The crew was obviously annoyed but it was over quickly and Sydeny walked over to y/n.

They walked into the kitchen and Sydeny was feeling overwhelmed because Carmen wasn’t here like he said that he would be.

“Thanks for the pointers”

“No problem. Do you need me to help?” Y/n had seen the inner workings of a kitchen before, granted it had been many years prior and in a different restaurant then the French Laundry but she thought that she would be better support then Carmen, who wasn’t even there.

Y/n spent most of her time calling out orders, tracking what was sent out and doing quality checks, it wasn’t rocket science and she never understood why all those male chefs were screaming all the time, Sydney walked around and did her job as sous-chef. Overall, a very calm transition barring a few hiccups. A few of the chefs tried to steal some onions and y/n had to leave her station and tell them to basically fuck off. Sydney was already tense and doing stupid shit like that would send her over the edge.

The lunch rush was over and y/n was finally reprieved from her duties. She needed some air so she walked outside and into an alley where she saw Carmen.

She was beyond pissed at him, and the sight of him made her boil in rage but she couldn’t leave based on principle.

“How was Sydney?” Carmen asked. Y/n felt like murdering him. She took a few deep breaths before continuing to speak. He wouldn't listen to her if she screamed at him.

“You should have been there.” Y/n said with a bit of an edge.

It was quiet for a long time. Y/n put her head back.

“I went to an Al-Anon meeting, my brother was an addict. It’s his birthday today”

“How often are the meetings? Once a week?” Carmen nodded.

“Did it maybe occur to you to push back the transition one more day so you didn’t leave Sydney alone?” Y/n said calmly and with no malice, she was so exhausted from her lack of sleep, food, and being on her feet all day.

Carmen didn’t say anything, so y/n continued, “You're a steam roller. You don’t listen to other people and you don't think of other people. You left Sydney to drown, that wasn’t great. Not to mention you didn’t even introduce me.”

Carmen's gaze bore into her with undeniable intensity, yet y/n was too upset with him to be swayed by any semblance of attraction.

“I’ll do better. I’ll listen and be there.”

“We’ll see.” Saying you were going to change was different than actually changing.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, she graced him with a small smile. "You know, your job isn't that tough," she playfully teased, tilting her head back slightly.

“Really?” Carmen thought she was being serious.

“No kidding, you should hand me your apron and the deed to this restaurant because I just killed it today.” Carmen caught on.

“What did you do today?”

“Called out orders, made sure things were leaving the kitchen, blah blah blah. Honestly, it's kind of fun. It's like those restaurant management phone games, do you ever play those?”

“That would hit a little too close to home.” Y/n snickered.

“My head is spinning and I didnt even start the work I'm supposed to do today.” Y/n sat up with a sigh.

“What do you eat?” Y/n didn’t respond. Carmen got up and came back a few minutes later with a plate of food.

Y/n finished eating before walking inside and finishing up her actual work. The day ended and she was once again the last one left barring Carmen, who offered to drive her back.

As they both sat in the quiet car y/n spoke up, “I have to go back to New York.” Carmen’s grip tightened around the wheel.

“I said I would do better.”

“I'm not leaving permanently, I need to grab my stuff and tell my landlord that I am leaving.”

Carmen’s grip loosened, “You found a place here already?”

“I have a few candidates. I might have to leave in the afternoons for a few weeks to check out some places, I'll be back in an hour or two.”

The rest of the ride was quiet, he dropped her off and y/n crashed into bed.

Y/n had already been working for a few weeks when she came back to a dark restaurant. She walked in and saw Carmen and Fak talking, “ I thought you had a connection.”

“Yeah, I definitely, definitely did not.” Which was followed by more whispering and then a loud, “Fuck” from Carmen.

“What’s happening?” Carmen shot a look at Fak that sent him away and Carmen gave her a quick run down, the power was out and they needed 5,500 dollars to repair.

“There isn’t any money in the budget but maybe if you finance…” Carmen looked around to check if anyone was there before directing her to his office. Y/n turned on her phone flashlight so they could see.

“I’m going to ask you something, and it's completely hypothetical. Like not even a little bit true and you can tell me what the outcome would be.” Y/n nodded her head.

“Suppose we had a way to get the money but it wasn’t completely…legal…hypothetically. I'm not asking anything illegal because this is hypothetical… but what would happen to the books hypothetically?”

“You can talk like a regular fucking person, you know, I'm not going to snitch. Do you need me to fix some books?”

“I shouldn't have said anything.” Carmen started walking towards the door and y/n grabbed his shirt and pushed him towards the chair. He looked up at her and the phone light made her look like a prophecy discovered in a dream, so angel-like. Her words, not so much.

“You brother died so any fuck up that he did will result in us having to pay a fine which is not the end of the world, but if you fuck up… then thats malice and its jail time plus a fine…”

Y/n knew it was harsh so she softened her voice before uttering, “Let me help you, I want to help you.” Carmen was having a hard time focusing, she wanted to help him which means that she cared about him. Maybe her words were like an angel.

“Is it a one time payment or is it…” Camen wasn’t responding, he was just looking up at her. Before she could ask what his problem was, he interrupted.

“I have to ask Richie.” Carmen peeled himself off the chair and opened the door for y/n. They walked to the front where y/n saw Richie and Fak were glaring at each other. Carmen and y/n took a seat.

“What is she doing here?” Richie said while not hiding his disdain for her.

“She has to make this legal.” Carmen explained.

Rcihie signaled for Carmen and Fak to come closer. “WHY DID YOU BRING A FUCKING NARC HERE?” Richie yelled into Carmen’s ears which made him reel back and clutch his ear. Y/n had to look away to hide her laughter.

Carmen rushed to her defense, “She isn’t-”

“I won't. I'm just going to clean it up and we will never have to talk about it again.”

“We can’t trust her, why would you fucking bring her?” He asked Carmen who repeated what she said to him in the office about malice and jail.

“I know you don’t trust me but I need this place running so that everyone here has a job next month. I don’t even need to know how you got it.”

Richie looked like he was thinking, before he threatened, “If you squeal i’m going to put your head on a fucking stick.” He looked like he was apprehensive but realized that this was the only way to protect Carmen so he had to risk trusting her.

Y/n didn’t pay attention to their little squabble afterwards, but then the lights flickered on. They were back in business. Carmen slammed his palms on the counter and exclaimed a relieved, “Fuck” which made y/n short circuit for a second. It was nice to hear him happy for a change.

The rest of the day was spent creating fake receipts and adjusting inventory to account for the new money. It was busy work and after a long time, Carmen came into her office, it was her office for sure, squatters rights.

“Are we good?”

“The IRS will be none the wiser…” Y/n said she wouldn’t ask but the curiosity was killing her.

“How did you guys get the money?”

“I don’t want to put you in deeper shit and this isn’t your scene.” He looked like he regret dragging her into his mess in the first place.

“Did you know when I was younger I used to shoplift.” Carmen looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“You don’t need to lie to-.”

“I used to walk into stores and steal, I had the money to buy stuff but sometimes I just felt like taking something…so I did.” She wanted to be on an even playing ground as him so he wouldn’t hesitate to come to her in case something like this happened again. She couldn’t do her job if he hid stuff from her.

“You want to know what the most expensive thing I stole?”

“I still don’t believe you stole anything.” He said with a laugh.

“I stole someone’s wallet. It had $527 dollars and a bunch of credit cards, Ethan Thompson. Slid it right out of his pocket.”

“What did you do with the money?” Carmen asked. Y/n debated lying but she thought honesty was how he would learn to trust her.

“I didn’t spend it, I waited outside till he came out and gave the wallet back. Told him that he dropped it. It was the only thing I ever gave back.” Carmen stared at her with a bewildered expression before laughing into his palm.

“That seems like something you would do.”

“Why do you say that?” Y/n was offended that he was insinuating that she was a loser.

“You are honest to a fault. Brutally honest.”

“It's hard work but I try. Would you have returned it?” Carmen nodded his head.

“Yeah, I bet you would have gone the extra mile and turned it into the police.”

A lull of silence passed and it was clear that Carmen wasn’t going to tell her so she switched topics.

“I don’t want to be mean, but sometimes that's the only way I can get people to listen to me…I’ve been working on it.”

Carmen didn’t want to be a smart-ass and say that he noticed a significant difference from her behavior towards him now compared to New York. She didn’t look like she was disgusted by him anymore. A bit of him wondered if he could change as effortlessly as y/n, she made it look so easy.

“By the way…I'm going to take this office. Like it's mine now.” Carmen wondered if she was joking because she had a smile on her face.

“If you want it, take it. I never want to see another spreadsheet in my life.” If y/n smiled at him like that it would be nearly impossible for him to say no to anything. It was like finally getting her approval after working hard to get it in New York, like when he used to wake up early so he could walk in with her and open the door for her.

There was a lull of and just as Carmen was going to fill it with a probing question y/n beat him to it.

"Was it a murder-for-hire?" Y/n inquired, but Carmen remained silent, his expression unreadable.

"Sex work? Tax evasion? Robbery? Drugs?..." y/n continued, listing off possibilities, and in that moment, Carmen's lips tightened imperceptibly. It was a subtle movement, one that might have gone unnoticed by most, but for y/n, it was captivating, drawing her further into his enigmatic presence.

“Drugs.” She said with a slight smile,

“I'm not admitting to anything. Did you find a place you liked?” Carmen wanted to distract her but he also wanted to keep her here longer and he finally had the confidence and momentum to keep her talking.

“I found one, it’s like 20 minutes from here. One-bedroom but it looks much better than my shit box in New York. And they are going to hold it for a while while i get my shit from back home”

“What neighborhood?” Carmen’s heart leaped when she said the same neighborhood that he stayed in, but he controlled himself.

“That new building? I walk past it everyday.” Carmen didn’t offer to carpool because he didn’t want to hear a rejection. That would kill any confidence he might have gained in the last few weeks.

“We're neighbors, that's nice. You have a car, can we carpool?” Carmen wondered if she could read minds.

“I get here early and leave late-”

“I’ll just come and go when you do. I don’t have anything else to do in Chicago anyways…I booked a flight for tomorrow morning to get my stuff.” She moves fast Carmen thought. It was admirable how she knew what she wanted, planned her moves and executed them in record time. He wondered if she ever panicked and fumbled like he did, if she did he never saw it.

“What time is your flight?”

“Seven”

“I can drive you.” Y/n wondered if this was too much, she didn’t want to rely on him.

“I’ll take a cab, you have to be here for Sydney.” She didn’t leave Carmen any room to argue.

The next couple of months were much better than Carmen thought was possible. Y/n had engrained herself in their team, and Carmen was able to get his eight hours of sleep every night. They finally had enough money to not feel like the whole restaurant was going to crash and burn.

Sydney had brought up the idea of to-go orders placed through a tablet and after much deliberation and consulting with y/n, he decided to give it ago.

Y/n had stepped out to sign for delivery and was making some pleasant conversation before she heard some commotion from the kitchen. She bid the delivery man a goodbye before walking in to see what the situation was.

Y/n had never seen the kitchen in such chaos since her first day. Carmen's voice reverberated, barking out orders, while Sydney unleashed her own tirade upon Marcus for mishandling the cake cutting. Tension hung heavily in the air, thickening the atmosphere. It was clear to y/n that this wouldn’t end well. Jogging over to Sweeps, who thankfully wasn't completely overwhelmed, she learned that Sydney had messed up the to-go order settings, resulting in a barrage of pre-orders due within a few minutes. Y/n hesitated for a moment, positioning herself in a corner, desperately searching for a way to be of use amidst the chaos. With her limited culinary skills, she felt somewhat helpless, unsure of where she could provide the most assistance.

“Um, I’m doing them in five–” Sydney stuttered.

“No, no, stop. Fire everything right fucking now!”

“Step out.” He was interrupted by Sydney’s excuses.

“GET THE FUCK OFF MY EXPO, CHEF, NOW!” That made y/n jump, she heard him yell before but this was a lot worse, the shock made it impossible for her to look anywhere but the back of his head.

Just as things looked like they couldn't get worse she heard a loud crash and saw two cakes on the floor. Y/n rushed over there to de-escalate and practically had to rip Sydney away from Richie.

“I said corner.” Richie said childishly. Y/n was starting to feel like a babysitter. And just as y/n was about to run over to her office to hide, she hears Sydney snap at Tina. Y/n guides Tina away from Sydney.

“Somebody get me a fucking sharpie!” Carmen bellowed and y/n ran to the office and pulled out a few and placed them in front of Carmen then walked back to her little corner. She heard that Richie and Sydney were at it again, sensing that round two was going to be worse she had to go check on that mess. Sydney is harping on and on about how much of a loser Richie and y/n was forced to step in when she hears Sydney talk about Richie’s daughters while waving a knife.

“What the fuck are you guys’ doing? We do not have the time for your asinine bullshit?” Sydney doesn’t even look over and y/n had to tug at Richie to get him to step down, normally y/n would appeal to Sydney’s good graces but she couldn’t go near her when she was waving a knife around.

“Richie, why don’t we take a step back and-” y/n asked.

“WHY ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME!” Y/n turned her head and saw Carmen squishing something Marcus gave him before throwing it on the floor.

“Yo, Cousin, just fuckin chill-” Richie stepped back and even when she saw where the knife was headed she was to slow to do anything. Richie walked into the knife and blood started pouring out.

Y/n felt her breath pick up, her palms started to itch, and she was seeing double. She fought her nerves and led Richie to the front where Ebra would dress his wounds. Y/n didn’t want to look at Richie’s bare ass but she had to make sure it wasn’t bad enough to warrant a hospital trip, it didn’t and y/n saw that as a complete win.

Y/n ran back to the kitchen towards Sydney where she was sitting near the lockers. She was about to leave.

“We need you, you can’t leave. Tell me what I need to do to fix this.” Y/n desperate, she knew the face of someone who had given up and she saw it all over Sydney.

“He is being a little bitch.” Y/n didn’t know how to fix Carmen’s attitude so she did the next best thing, stall.

“Please, give me a day to fix this. I’ll have him come around and apologize, I'll make him regret even getting out of bed. Just please stay till this blows over. We need you. Please.” Y/n was beyond desperate, she couldn't stand doing Carmen’s job of managing his team but she forced herself to pull through. Sydney backed down and went to the sink to wash her knife before going back to prep.

Y/n hears Carmen walk over to Sydney and ask, “We good, chef?”, who wasn’t responding. This bastard was so incredibly dense y/n almost wanted Sydney to blow up in his stupid face and maybe stab him in the ass too but she denied herself that pleasure and quickly diverted Carmen over to the expo.

“Now is not the time. Do this later… Please.” Y/n was grasping at straws here and she wasn’t even given the satisfaction of being able to yell at someone. Carmen went back to his expo but not before bending down and eating something off the floor. He has definitely lost it, y/n muttered.

She went to find Marcus who was just about to leave. She thanked him for today and apologized on Carmen’s behalf. Y/n didn’t want to be a bitch but Marcus was not high on her priority list right now, him leaving would let her deal with less people and make her job easier.

She ran out front to check up on Richie again. “Please tell me you're okay.” He gave a small laugh and then a grunt. She saw that he was grasping an empty carton of cigarettes.

Y/n didn’t know how, but the storm passed and the doors opened for customers. Y/n slipped out and bought a carton of cigarettes and some painkillers from a nearby gas station and handed them over to Richie.

“I know this isn’t even a good enough apology but I’m really sorry about today.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“You're not going to get an apology from Sydney for a while so let my apology be a placeholder.” Y/n rounded her eyes and tried to see if there was any residual tension from this morning and to her relief Richie was fine.

“Tell me if you need something.” She then went back to the kitchen and Sydney was still cutting stuff and Carmen was yelling out orders with less fury. Y/n wasn’t going to have anything positive to say to either of them so she would wait till after the lunch rush. She slipped back to the front and sat on a bar stool with her laptop. She couldn’t face either of the chefs right now.

Looking at Sydney was difficult, and the longer that y/n waited out front with Richie to make sure he didn’t die of blood loss while manning the front, the more pissed she got at Sydney for not having the decency to come out to check up on Richie or even apologize.

Looking at Carmen was even more difficult, a part of y/n wanted to be proven wrong about her previous notions about pretentious chefs. But both Sydney and Carmen were the only one’s screaming and that because they felt like they were entitled to it, that they were the only ones who were allowed to be stressed and upset. They were selfish and that was a painful thing for y/n to admit about Carmen because that meant that his promise to change when she first came here was a lie. He couldn’t handle any type of stress without flipping out and she wondered if this was even the right profession for him.

The lunch crowd died down and she directed Sydney towards her office and shut the door, “You want to tell me what happened today?” Y/n faked the sincerity, Sydney wouldn’t talk if y/n was hostile.

“Carmen was being a dick. Everyone else is dealing with the same shit but now…” Y/n didn’t want to hear anything else for her.

“How is Richie?” Y/n asked with a bit of an edge.

“He walked into my kni-”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I don’t know, okay? But it was his fault,” Y/n had to remind herself to take a few deep breaths, she wouldn’t let her anger get the best of her and she would refrain from yelling.

“When you finish with your shift, can you please talk to Richie, at least pretend like you care that you stabbed someone.”

“He called me a bitch and was all over my station, he deserved it, ”

“You deserved to be called more than a bitch.” Y/n regretted the words as soon as they came out but she wasn’t going to lose face. Sydney looked shocked but y/n kept her face stoic.

“Talk to him.”

Sydney didn’t respond but y/n knew she wouldn’t talk to Richie.

Y/n felt her blood bubbling, “You could move to fucking Timbuktu and be a chef there and you still wouldn’t rise above average, do you know why?” Y/n didn’t give her a chance to answer.

“It's because you are the problem, you are selfish and you don’t think. You can quit here and never look back and you know what is going to happen next? You're going to find another job and then leave that job and then find another job and leave that one too and keep doing that till you die.” It was getting harder for y/n to breathe. It felt like the walls were closing in.

“I have been gracious enough to give you the space to grow, I told Carmen to make you sous but every second that I take my eyes off either of you, it's like shit hits the fan. Are neither of you capable of doing your jobs?” Y/n was ranting.

“If today was so bad that you have to make someone else's life miserable and then whine about yourself, you shouldn’t even be allowed to work in soup kitchens.” Y/n took a painful deep breath, her head was spinning and she was suppressing the urge to start dry-heaving.

“You will forever be nothing unless you change, you are impatient, selfish, whiny, annoying, vindictive, and…and..” Y/n had to end on a good note or else Sydney might actually quit.

“..capable of doing better. I have seen the way you cook and manage a kitchen when it's not a shit storm. I bet in a few years you're going to make Carmen’s food taste like MREs. You are destined for good things but that will only happen when you grow up.”

Sydney was quiet before she stomped out of y/n’s office and slammed the door shut.

Y/n sank down onto the floor, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. It was as if she had been transported back to New York, constantly juggling her and her co-worker’s workload and assuming the role of the villain. She desperately sought control, but the grip of the panic attack tightened its hold, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she fought to regain control over her racing thoughts. It was an exhausting battle, one that felt all too familiar. She grasped at the chair trying to stay up right but after a few moments of dizziness, she slipped to the ground.

She was keenly aware that she couldn't single-handedly orchestrate transformative change in just a few short months but she thought that Carmen would at least learn to step up. She longed for a sense of calm and it burned to know that Carmen was incapable of being that for her now. The knowledge weighed heavily on y/n's heart. The realization that Carmen, the one person she had hoped could offer her some semblance of stability and support because he said he would, was not yet equipped to be that pillar for her. It was a painful acknowledgement, one that underscored the inherent instability that defined their dynamic. Carmen was not stable.

Y/n took a few deep breaths, wiped her tears, and stood up after pushing her sadness and disappointment with Sydney and, more importantly, Carmen in a deep crevice in her mind.

The kitchen had lost two chefs but it was still running smoothly because it was a slow day. Y/n discreetly circled the kitchen, she made a conscious effort to conceal the fact that her blood was boiling, striving to maintain composure amidst the chaos.

And just as she was about to retreat to her office, the man of the fucking hour decided to show up.

“Bad news guys, we have to close for dinner today because we are having a bachelor party in the front.” Y/n looked at a few sips of water, she needed to ground herself and resist throwing the cup of ice water in his face. Carmen glanced up at her and was met with the same eyes from New York, the ones which were glaring at him, disgusted with him, hated him. Y/n walked over to the alley and Carmen followed her even when she didn’t ask.

Y/n indicated that he sat down with a pointed look with her eyes, y/n stayed standing.

“I was hired to be your accountant, but today I was playing babysitter for a bunch of grown fucking adults. Why am I walking around your kitchen and apologising to your fucking staff while you do absolutely nothing.” She took a staggered breath.

"They were goddamn pre-orders, for crying out loud! If they were a little late, it's not like a customer would barge into the fucking kitchen to hang you. You guys have already had a C health rating and got into a fight with some customers a while back, so clearly customer satisfaction isn’t the issue.” The corners of her eyes were turning hazy.

“Why the hell do other people have to clean up your damn mess? How hard would it have been for you to tell Richie to inform the customers that the orders were going to be a bit late?” Carmen didn’t look up, keeping his focus on y/n’s shoes.

“Not fucking difficult at all, its like…like you wanted an excuse to be a prick.”

“Its your fucking entitlement, you are just like Sydney. You are selfish and you will never amount to anything unless you learn to deal with your problems. I mean this in the most blunt and sincere way possible: go to fucking therapy. If money's a problem, I'll foot the bill. I want you to go there and let them throw every damn thing they have at you, from drawing pictures to giving you a fucking lobotomy." Y/n’s face was getting hot and she could feel her forehead burn up.

“You are running a kitchen in a shitty neighborhood with people who would be happy if you served them insulation in between two pieces of drywall, it has never and will never be that serious.” Y/n gave herself some time to breathe before giving him a little bit more.

“You’re the head of the kitchen, you're supposed to be everyone’s support. You have to be…s-stable.” It was difficult for y/n to choke out that word, it hurt too much. “Your team shouldn’t have to walk on fucking eggshells when things get tough.”

“You promised me that you would do better, that is the whole reason I chose to stay. Did you know that I was going to tell you that I changed my mind after I accepted your job offer? I didn’t because you promised you would be better…do better.” Y/n knew there was some stuff she missed but she was exhausted and wanted to go back. She uncrossed her arms and knew that it was time to do some damage control again.

They stayed in silence for a long time before y/n let out a deep sigh, “I'm sorry, it's just… today was a lot when it really didn’t need to be.” Y/n sat down right next to Carmen, she gave him a few inches of space, he still wasn’t looking at her.

Carmen did well with praise y/n recalled, “You are a very talented chef and you are great at organizing a kitchen but that's very different from managing a kitchen with people in it.” A silence passed through them and y/n gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“Marcus was completely wrong and I don’t fault you for that. I know I would have done the same thing. What kind of idiot worries about donuts when everyone is asking you about cakes?”

“They were good.” Y/n almost missed it but she was glad she didn’t. That meant that she hadn’t completely broken him.

“I bet they taste even better off the floor.” Y/n chuckled and even if Carmen doesn’t join her, he does pick his head up and look at her. The fact that she was still able to smile after ripping him to shreds was very reminiscent of many people in his life. He knew that she was probably right but he also knew that aspects of her criticism would keep him up at night for years to come

“Was I too much? ” Y/n asked.

“I needed to hear it…” Y/n let them stew in silence.

“You need to find the root of your issues and fix them.” Y/n offered.

“Are we good?” Carmen asked. Y/n was tempted to say yes so that they could move on but she had a feeling that was too easy for him. She worked hard today to be a force of stability and support for everyone and saying yes to Carmen’s question only comforted him. Y/n wanted to be comforted for once.

“No.” Carmen’s face betrayed his shock.

“What can I do to fix it?” Carmen was desperate.

Y/n sighed before closing her eyes. Y/n didn’t respond because she didn’t know how either.

Carmen felt a heat crawling up his chest, a sense of being trapped. He knew he could go back to Sydney, apologize, and promise to change, and they would be good. He knew that if he checked up on Richie, they would be good. He knew that if he swallowed his pride and prepared family dinner today, he would be in good standing with the rest of his team.

But Carmen was starting to realize that he didn’t really know enough about y/n to make this good. Carmen spent a lot of his time overthinking every minute detail of his life but no matter how hard he tried to come up with something to fix this, nothing seemed right. He couldn’t leave because he knew if he did that would be admitting defeat and that would ruin any friendship he earned with y/n but he couldn’t find the right words.

She couldn’t leave Carmen without it killing him. Her words echoed in his head and he tried to find a clue, something that would give him an opening to learn more about her so she wouldn’t leave the restaurant, leave him.

“Why did you hate me? Back in New York.” It was a risk but it felt like his only option. Y/n parted her lips a few times, it was like she was formulating a response that wouldn’t hurt him. He didn’t need her to comfort him, he needed to comfort her.

“Don’t lie, y/n.”

“I didn’t hate you.” Y/n conceded.

“Don’t bullshit me. The way you looked at me-”. Y/n didn’t know that she was being that obvious.

“You were…I don’t…” Y/n realized she had placed Carmen in an impossible situation by asking him to fix something without providing guidance, as she herself didn't know how to rectify her past mistakes without any guidance.

“I was really unhappy with my job and I thought that if I had someone, if I had you, we could stick together. We used to come and leave work at the same time, we were polite, you seemed like a nice guy. We could have helped each other out, I wanted so badly to have someone to rely on. It was selfish of me to put that pressure on you, I shouldn’t have done that…” That was the diluted version of the story, y/n was willing to take the blame for everything in New York but Carmen didn’t look satisfied, so she continued.

“I used to hand you your paycheck and you never made eye contact. I didn’t even know your eyes were blue until I had been working there for two months.” Carmen locked his eyes on y/n’s.

“I would try to talk to you and you never responded, I didn’t even know what you sounded like. You called me a few months ago and I didn’t even know it was you because you never said a word to me. I used to think that you thought you were too good to talk to me.” Carmen fiddles with his finders and y/n had to tear her eyes away from his hand so she could focus.

“I worked hard for a while to get close to you but you clearly weren’t interested. I took the hint and backed off. The looks were…immature and stupid but I couldn’t help it…I hated my job and you were an easy target. It's easy to hate something you know nothing about.”

“Do you hate me now?” Carmen whispered.

“Not anymore.” Y/n responded softly.

Carmen's shoulders visibly relaxed as he heard Y/n's response. Relief washed over him, mingled with a renewed sense of hope.

Carmen replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "I never wanted you to hate me. I just...you would look at me like that and it was one more reason that convinced me that I wasn’t fucking good enough for that job.”

Y/n had the daunting realization that she was one of the reasons why he left the French Laundry, why he left her. She felt extra guilt for yelling at Carmen for fucking up and being selfish when she did the same thing without knowing it. She blinked back some tears, she needed to hear this, even if it hurt.

“I'm sorry, I was completely-.”

“I used to be scared of you.” Carmen interrupted. Y/n sat up and raised an eyebrow.

“Why?” she asked in pure bewilderment.

“It felt like you were leagues ahead of me…it's like comparing an ant to…umm…” Carmen was struggling to spit something out, “divinity.” That made y/n widen her eyes and lean forward.

"I never saw you as beneath me, y/n. You were always on a higher plane, like we lived in different fucking planets." Carmen's voice held a touch of reverence, acknowledging the perceived disparity in their positions.

“You were always so…perfect. I never saw you struggle. Even now, you pick things up fast, people like you, you are great at whatever you do, you never get mad for no reason.”

“People don’t like me and I did get mad for no reason, I just yelled at Sydney before I got to you.”

“We deserved it.”

"It wasn't my place. It's your kitchen, and I shouldn't have gotten involved." Carmen felt sick. She was distancing herself from the kitchen and from him. She was trying to run away and he couldn't let that happen.

“I wouldn’t have anything left if you left.”

“You would have been fine, you would have Sydney.”

“But you…you…belong here. I can’t do this without you.” Carmen felt like she was slipping from his fingers and he was trying to grasp on to any part of her that he could convince to stay.

“Give me a reason to stay, Carmen.” Y/n's whispered with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. She wasn't sure what words were left to be spoken, but she knew she had to say his name. Y/n wanted his name to swirl around her tongue, and imprint the feeling of his name leaving her lips.

Y/n shifted her gaze, positioning herself to face him directly, and her eyes couldn't help but gravitate towards his slightly parted lips. It was clear that he had something to say, and she leaned in, eager to catch every word. In response, Carmen shortened the distance, drawn by the intimate proximity. It felt as if he was about to share a secret with her, a whisper that only they would hear.

With their faces mere inches apart, Carmen's right hand softly landed on the seat beside Y/n's thigh, subtly adjusting their positioning to align their faces. Y/n’s right hand began to rise, caressing his face tenderly. Y/n locked in with his cerulean eyes wondering if she was the only one feeling this. She tested the waters by running her thumb across his lips. They were a bit chapped from biting them all morning.

Feeling the touch of Y/n's thumb on his lips, Carmen's breath caught in his throat. It was a gentle caress that sent shivers down his spine.

“We shouldn’t do this.” Y/n mumbled as she leaned in closer.

Without breaking eye contact, Carmen reached up, gently cupping Y/n's face with his hand, his touch conveying tenderness and longing.

WIth a hoarse whisper, Carmen pleaded, “Kiss me, y/n.”

Y/n closed the gap and it was a collision of pent-up passion and aching yearning. Y/n's fingers tangled in Carmen's hair, pulling him even closer. Carmen’s thumb stroked y/n’s jaw and he couldn’t believe how soft her skin was. Their bodies pressed together, feeling the heat and intensity of their shared desire. Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the sensation of each other. Every touch, every gentle nip of their lips, fueled the hunger that had been building between them for so long. It was a kiss filled with the weight of unspoken words.

Carmen didn’t want to pull away because he wasn’t sure if he would ever get another kiss, he wanted this one to last. He didn’t want to regret 20 years in the future not kissing for a few moments longer.

Y/n, breathless and in need of a moment to regain composure, pulled away from the kiss. Soft gasps escaped her lips as she tried to steady her racing heart. Carmen, caught in a blissful daze, found himself unable to flutter his eyes open. Carmen remained in a suspended state, savoring the lingering sensation of y/n's touch.

Carmen’s phone buzzed and that wasn’t enough to ground him. He felt like he was floating. If he didn’t move and really focused, he could convince himself that he was still kissing y/n.

He felt y/n’s hand slid up his apron and trail up his leg. Carmen's breath hitched, his senses heightened, as anticipation swirled in the air. He sat still, nervous to do something like this in public but if y/n wanted him to do something he would do it in a heartbeat. He trusted y/n completely, willing to follow her lead without hesitation.

Finally, Y/n's hand reached its destination, and Carmen's pulse quickened. Y/n pulled something out—his phone.

Confusion flickered across his features as he watched Y/n's playful expression. Y/n was teasing him, realizing the momentary tension she had caused. Carmen's anxiety gave way to relief, his lips curving into a smile of his own. He completely forgot about the buzzing so she answered the phone for him and brought it closer to his ear. He took the phone from her hands ensuring that their fingers grazed. It was a small, subtle gesture, yet it held the power to ignite sparks of electricity that danced along his skin.

“Yo, cousin. Where the fuck are you?”

“Why?” Carmen wanted to stay with her for longer but Richie, being a gigantic cockblock, was ruining that for him.

“You're out past your curfew. Why do you think?” Richie remarked sarcastically. “You still have a job, you can't just sit around in an alley like some kind of fucking sewer rat.”

“Richie, I swear to fucking good if the kitchen is fine and you dragged me back there for no reason, im gonna stab your other ass cheek.” Carmen waited till Richie started to talk back before hanging up on him, he was being petty. Carmen saw that y/n tucked her lips to prevent a laugh from escaping.

Carmen sat wordlessly, not wanting to leave just yet. Y/n stood up and Carmen followed her. As they stood face to face, Y/n's hands instinctively brushed his hair back into place, fixing any stray strands. With gentle precision, she smoothed out the wrinkles on his shirt sleeves and straightened his apron.

Y/n's finger traced lightly across his lips a few times, and a mischievous smirk fell on her lips. "Your lips are going to be a problem," she teased, a twinkle of amusement in their eyes. Carmen's mind momentarily scattered, unable to fully focus.

"Y/n?" Carmen's voice wavered slightly, his thoughts still clouded by desire.

Y/n, sensing his internal struggle, mustered a playful yet firm resolve. "Go back to the restaurant, I’m still mad at you." she gently nudged him toward the alley exit with an addictive smirk.

Carmen blinked, trying to gather his thoughts amidst the haze of longing.

"But when-" Y/n interrupted, her voice filled with anticipation.

"I'll see you in just a few minutes."

As he busied himself with checking on Richie and apologizing to Sydney, Carmen didn’t miss how y/n slipped inside and walked into the office.

Carmen was still pissed at Richie, who was counting the money in the drawer as they were about to close early to do family dinner.

“Why even bother calling if the place is empty, you dick?” Carmen said in a huff.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you sucking face with your new girlfriend.” Carmen’s jaw went slack.

“Carmy, you're so handsome.” Richie said in a hushed girly tone, mocking y/n’s voice.

“How-” Carmen started.

“You left and y/n left and you both came back within 5 fucking minutes of each other.” Carmen parted his lips trying to form a response.

“You should learn to hide this stuff better. Your lack of girlfriends is catching up to you.”

End Notes:

This is purely experimental so I will most likely not write stuff like this in the future, but if people like it, who knows?

We can delude ourselves into thinking that Carmen would be boyfriend material, but he most definitely isn't. I wanted to write something with an unreliable y/n who complains that Carmen has all these anger issues, is domineering, doesn't listen to people, is controlling, is selfish, is extremely unstable, etc. However, she is exactly the same; she just doesn't realize it.

At the end of the day, Carmen meshes well with people who are similar to him, which is why he is close with Sydney and sometimes Richie (their shared love of Michael and The Beef). I wanted to write something where he pursues someone who has similar flaws as him. I guess it's up to you guys to figure out if it's the start of personal growth on both ends or if it's a doomed romance.

Part 2

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galacticgraffiti · 8 months

Text

⋆☾⋆ Big Love Ahead (2) ⋆☽⋆

!!! NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI !!!

Summary: After you start to get better, feelings start to grow - and you find out Halsin's secret. Or: Halsin is the softest man and I want to live the cottagecore fantasy with him so bad.

Rating: Mature Wordcount: 6k Descriptors: The first two chapters are fairly genderneutral. Reader's physique is not really described aside from being quite a bit shorter and smaller than Halsin. CW: Fluff, softness, building up some feelings before we get to fucking, pet names, oblivious pining, Halsin in bear form, thirsting for druids is hot, talks about feelings, resolving the tension.

✦⋆ « Chapter (1) ⋆✦⋆ Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ If you prefer AO3 ⋆✦

⋆༻༺⋆༺༻⋆••●••⋆༺༻⋆༻༺ ⋆

Chapter 2: The Bear

The morning brings… surprises.

You wake up, your legs sore and your functional arm sorer, but you feel clean, and your hair still smells of Halsin.

You stretch, clenching your teeth at the pain that flares up as your muscles contract and your joints crack into place. New bandages cover your deeper wounds, and oddly enough, the sight of them makes you smile. Halsin must have dressed the wounds after you had already fallen asleep.

The thought of leaving the bed seems terrible, except that the last thing you remember is Halsin telling you he sleeps right outside. It may just be worth it to leave the comforts of your sheets to find him. You can imagine him now, his large form curled up by a fire, watching the stars in the night sky move with his impossible patience as he falls asleep, and seeing the sun rise in his golden eyes when he wakes.

You wrap yourself in your sheet and try not to collapse as you limp towards the entrance. It is only a few steps, but the way seems entirely too long, even if you can lean against the cave wall to prop yourself up. The outside is already bright with the light of dawn, and you squint into the sun, taking in the newly familiar sight of the grove and meadow, feeling the grass underneath your bare feet for the first time.

At first glance, you don’t see Halsin anywhere. There is no campfire like you thought there might be, no tent or even a bedroll. You look around, a little lost for what to do. This has never happened before - you have not been able to walk by yourself for so long, and you have never left the cave before yesterday’s bath. You had never needed to before - Halsin was always there whenever you required anything, and most of your time has been spent sleeping, reading and recovering.

You look around, taking in the fresh morning air and the beauty of nature before you, when a noise catches your attention. It comes from the shadows beside the cave, right behind a big boulder covered in moss. It sounds… almost like a snore. Except no person could ever produce such a noise, not even one of Halsin’s size. It’s much too loud, much too… animalistic. But Halsin would never let you sleep anywhere where you were at risk of being attacked, right? Surely not. He wouldn’t leave you alone if he was not sure that you were safe.

Carefully, though your entire body is screaming DANGER, you make your way around the boulder. And you are met by the sight of…

A really large fucking bear.

A bear. Next to your cave. Sleeping, curled in on itself, its giant head resting on huge paws with sharp claws. You can see its chest expand with deep breaths, and if it weren’t right there in front of you, you would find it fascinating. The bear shifts, huffing as it moves, it’s nose scrunching up.

You nearly scream.

But its eyes are closed, and you press your hand to your mouth just in time that all you utter is a muffled “hmph”.

You stare and stare. Your eye twitches. Your legs shake, as if the new effort of keeping yourself upright was not enough already.

You press your lips together and try to breathe as quietly as you can. And then, you move. Slowly, ever so slowly, you try to make your way back towards the cave, away from the animal that sleeps right next to your resting place. Then, a thought comes crashing in: Halsin. Where is he? Did that bear do something to him? What happened to-

In your panic, your silly feet miss a step. It’s like you are falling in slow motion, the world blurring around you. You hit the ground with a dull crack and a cry of pain escapes from your throat. The bear grunts, its head raising.

Your spine aches and all the air that has been pressed from your lungs when you hit the ground floods back in, but you don’t scream. Instead, you close your eyes and… give up. What else is there to do?

You can hear the bear shift, and you can almost feel its breath on your face, sharp fangs glittering behind your eyelids as you wait for the worst; wait to be mauled to death, to be ripped open and devoured in a bloody mess of bones and cartilage.

The worst does not come.

When you are brave enough to open your eyes again, the bear is staring right at you. With Halsin’s golden irises glowing in its face.

*****

You get over it.

Maybe that’s the wrong way to put it.

You… find out. And you accept it. As soon as your mouth has stopped screaming in terror, as soon as paw turns into hand and fur into skin, you accept what has happened.

Halsin’s explanations make sense, and his voice calms you. You feel so stupid- you should have connected the dots ealier. But your mind is still reeling, and your heartbeat still much too fast. You might have collapsed if you were not already on the ground, but… you are oddly fine with it.

It’s just him. For a moment, the relief that nothing bad has happened to him cuts through the surprise, and that is enough to ground you. You pull yourself together and snap your mouth shut. You stare and stare, not moving, but not moving away either, as Halsin carefully approaches you, both hands raised in the air.

He sits down next to you with a sigh, far away so he won’t touch you. You watch him, watch his profile. And all you can think is: you should have known. A wood elf with his build? Of course he is a fucking bear. Of course this happens. You should have expected it.

Once the panic starts to fade, you are just ashamed at your reaction, which is not helped by Halsin apologising way more than he should.

“There’s nothing wrong,” you hear your voice say, eventually, though your mind is still somewhere else entirely, but he keeps on saying sorry for something nobody should ever have to apologise for. “You are just… a bear. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“I should have told you.” He sounds so broken that you shatter at the sound of his voice. “I should have-”

“You should have nothing,” you interrupt him. “This changes nothing. I’m fine, I promise. I was just… surprised. I’m sorry I reacted so poorly, I should have made the connection sooner, but I swear I’m alright.”

“You were screaming for about ten minutes there.” His voice is so dry and matter of fact that you nearly burst into laughter.

“I… I mean, yes.” You take a deep breath. “Was this the ideal way to find out? Absolutely fucking not. But… Halsin. Nothing could change the way I feel about you.”

“You… feel about me?” He seems genuinely confused.

You roll your eyes, and everything you have been keeping inside for weeks now, all the feelings you tried to shun and suppress, bubble to the surface.

“You are incredible,” you whisper. You push yourself closer to him, your fingers finding his and holding tight. “I…The way you took care of me- I should have guessed you were a druid. I should have known-”

“-you couldn’t have-”

“-and even if I had known earlier, or even if I hadn’t found out just now, nothing would have changed. I love staying here, with you.”

His fingers squeeze yours gently.

“I am glad I found you, you know? This summer has been one of the best I have had in many years.”

You smile quietly, but you don’t push him. There has been a sizable surprise already, you are not sure you could take another one. You are happy just sitting next to him, his large palm covering your hand entirely.

You limp back into the cave eventually, holding onto Halsin’s thick forearm for stability, and curl up in bed again.

“I won’t ask any questions,” you say as he sits by your side, peeling berries from a twig. “But you can always talk to me. You know that, right?”

There is a small smile in his eyes.

“Thank you.”

When he doesn’t say anything else, you lay back, your lids shutting all on their own.

You dream of a bear with Halsin’s voice and Halsin’s eyes, leading you through a forest with thick trees and sweet smells. He never leaves your side and you are never lost.

*****

The next day, you ask Halsin if he can carry you to the meadow that lies before the cave.

“I cannot bear another day of being bed-ridden,” you complain. After a moment of hesitation, you add deviously, “...no pun intended.”

Halsin’s face freezes, then he bursts out in laughter, so loud it makes your ears hurt in the small space of the cave. You watch his shoulders shake with joy and think to yourself that you have never been happier.

You could probably walk to the meadow by yourself if you had a walking stick or something similar. After all, you made it nearly all the way yesterday. Neither of you ever mentions that, not when he scoops you up into his arms, and not when he kneels on the softest patch of grass he can find to put you down. You like being taken care of. You like being taken care of by him. And you get the feeling he likes taking care of you, too. One day, you’ll return the favour.

You spend the whole day there, watching Halsin go about his day, enjoying the sun on your face and the birdsong around you. The meadow is beautiful, and your eyes keep finding something new every time you look around. When Halsin carries you back to your bed that night, you can barely sleep thinking about what the next day might bring.

He carries you to the meadow every day from then on, and lays you down, as gently as if you could break, to rest in the summery sunlight. You ask him if he has anything you could help with, and he shows you how to weave baskets, how to skin an animal so you can use its hide, how to whittle and sharpen your knives and so much more. You get the feeling he just enjoys teaching you things - none of this is actually directly helpful to him in any way.

But when his deep voice calmly instructs you and sings your praises when you manage to get things right, how could you ever complain? And it’s nice to see nature through his eyes: not scary and strange, but familiar and comforting, providing all anyone could ever need.

A week passes like that, and then another. Halsin spends more and more time by your side, brooding over scrolls, helping you hone your new skills. He fishes so he can stay close to you - or at least, you hope that is why. And one day, he asks you something unexpected.

He is sitting next to you, checking the rod of his fishing pole. You watch him as you always do - out of the corner of your eye, fascinated beyond measure by everything he does and the way he moves. He clears his throat suddenly, and you are startled from your daydreams.

“I want to ask you something. The bear… did I scare you?”

You consider this for a moment, your hand resting next to his on the damp grass.

“No,” you answer finally, and truthfully. “It- it scared me that I didn’t know it was you. But once I found out that you were the bear and the bear was you… you have never scared me. Never made me feel unsafe. Why should the bear be any different? He is just another part of you. Is there… Why do you ask?”

“Well,” he grumbles, shifting beside you, and putting down the fishing rod. “You haven’t seen me in that form since then, and… I didn’t know if you would mind.”

He sounds so cautious it makes you think that someone before you did, in fact, mind. But you don’t- and you tell him so.

“Good.” His sigh is one of relief, and a broad smile appears on his features. “I will be honest, I was getting tired of using a rod to catch our dinner.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he is saying. When you realise, a shiver runs down your spine - excitement more than anything else. You are way more excited to see his bear form again than you probably should be.

“Do you… usually catch fish as a bear?” you ask, trying to sound casual. Halsin turns to you, and your heart stumbles. His features are illuminated by the light of the afternoon, soft and glowing, and a strand of hair sticks to his cheek. You want to brush it back, you want to-

“I do, yes. It’s… easier. Less time consuming. And it’s not fishing - it’s a hunt. It is fun, and it helps me… keep control while I am human. The hunt relaxes me, but it also gets my blood pumping - it can be hard to control the beast if I don’t let it out every once in a while.”

You swallow thickly. You could imagine some other situations that would get his blood pumping-

“Ah,” is the only response you can utter without sounding like a desperate fool.

A moment passes. Halsin’s fingers play with the grass, pulling and weaving. You clear your throat.

“Well, I don’t think we have any food left for tonight.”

He looks up at you, his eyes shining. You know full well that there is a basket full of smoked meat in the cave, and a whole collection of berries, weeds and flowers to eat. He must know it too.

“Well, then,” is all Halsin says. “I’d better get you back inside and go hunting, wouldn’t I?”

He gets up, towering over you in all his glory. You bite your lip.

“Actually… I was thinking I could stay here,” you mumble.

Halsin cocks his head.

“You want to watch me hunt? I promise, it’s not nearly as exciting as it sounds.”

“I don’t mind,” you admit quietly. “I just… like watching you. I would like to learn more about you - and about the bear. If that is what you want as well.”

“Hm.” He glances across the meadow, over to the river, where the water gurgles and the fishes leap. “I suppose… this should be far enough away.”

Excitement floods you like fire in your veins. You smile at him, squinting into the sun.

Halsin flashes you his teeth in a short smile. You try not to stare as he stalks over to the large boulder next to the cave and starts shedding his clothes. You try really, really hard. And you fail miserably.

You have never seen an elf with his build, the bulging muscles, the soft belly, the thickness of his thighs and the roundness of his broad shoulders. It gets you every time.

He wades into the water, and you watch as a golden shimmer flashes across his skin, bringing fur and claws and wildness with it. It makes you think of that time he built a bath for you - how his eyes flashed, how you told yourself that the spark in the water was just an odd trick of the light.

Now you think it might not have been.

The beast is hard to control when my blood runs hot.

Your belly tightens when you think about the implications of it. Was he- when he got in the pool with you… how close had he been to losing control? What would-

A triumphant roar interrupts your budding inappropriate thoughts. You watch as the bear - large and imposing, the water parting around its mighty hind legs - scoops one fish after another from the river. The thought that this wild animal is Halsin- that he is actually in there, with all his careful attentiveness, all his gentle touches- makes you feel things you cannot describe.

The whole thing cannot last more than a few minutes, but you feel like you watch the bear forever, in all his wild golden-brown glory. Every once in a while, his head turns to you as if to make sure you are still watching. Eventually, the bear wades back to shore. Only as he comes closer do you realise just how huge he actually is: Round belly, soft fur and deceptively cute ears.

A sudden flash of panic surges through you when you realise that you have no way of escaping him.

Your arms start to shake and you have to remind yourself to take deep breaths. It’s Halsin. This is Halsin, he would never hurt you. You press your eyes shut, then hastily open them again. The bear’s steps have slowed, he watches you with careful eyes. With Halsin’s eyes.

Your heartbeat calms.

With some effort, you heave yourself up from the ground, and stretch out a hand towards the bear. With steps that make the ground shake, he approaches, ever so slowly, until his wet nose bumps against your palm.

Carefully, you run your fingers up his flat nose, slowing your breath when the bear plops down next to you with a deep huff. He seems so… gentle. The wildness of the hunt is gone, evaporated along with the water of the river he stood in.

You don’t fool yourself- you have seen the damage a bear’s claws and fangs can do, and Halsin would be no different. And yet, nothing about him seems threatening or dangerous.

Your hand follows the outline of his fur-covered ear, and you smile when he twitches. For a while, you let yourself stay very still, until your legs start to tremble with exhaustion from standing up. Finally, you give in, sinking to the ground. Your stomach makes an absolutely inhuman noise as you do, and you realise how hungry you are.

The bear’s ears prick up. Languidly, he rises to his feet, shaking his fur like a wet dog.

“Hey!” you giggle when the droplets of water hit you. The bear’s head whips around, and the baring of his fangs seems almost like a smile.

He trods off, towards the boulder, and in a shudder of golden light, his form contracts and fur gives way to skin once more. Halsin smiles at you softly.

“You are a miracle, little flower.” His deep voice carries across the meadow, and you wonder if he meant for you to hear it. Heat rises to your cheeks as Halsin unabashedly dries himself off before stepping back into his trousers and pulling his shirt over his head.

He never seems to care about these things: him or you unclothed before one another. He never seems to notice it in the same way you do, though you think you have caught him looking at you a few times. You always tell yourself you must be mistaken - certainly, he would have acted upon it by now.

But to see him like this, to get to be part of his world so entirely- to be able to gaze upon the bear and see the man… Well, your blood certainly runs hotter, that’s for sure.

Halsin crouches down next to you, his finger stroking your cheek.

“You really don’t mind, do you?” His voice is full of wonder. You shrug and smile at him.

“I told you that I don't.”

“Many have told me. Few have ever truly meant it,” he mumbles. There is a pause, his face so close to yours that all you want to do is grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him in for a kiss.

Halsin clears his throat.

“I should get the fish.”

As he wanders off, you are left to stare after him, wondering if maybe, he does not feel the same way about you as you do about him.

*****

That night, you have a nightmare.

It’s the worst one since the battle, and you wake up in tears, screaming until your lungs give out. You are only half-awake, thrashing in your bed, the smell of blood in your nose, when Halsin is already by your side, in human form, pushing your flailing arms down to the bed and talking over your cries.

“It’s alright, little flower. You are alright, you are here with me, alive and well- you are fine, I’m here with you, I’m here…”

You bury your face against his chest and sob, haunted by the faces of your dead companions, by knives slashing at you and the sharp agony of an arrow through your shoulder. Halsin holds you through the pain, his arms tight around you, the warmth of his body the only thing tethering you to the presence.

When your head hurts and you have no more tears, you gently unwind yourself from his embrace, staring at him through swollen lids. The question slips out of your mouth before you think about it.

“Will you sleep here tonight? I don’t think I can fall asleep again on my own.”

“Of course, my love.” There is not a moment’s hesitation, he just crawls into bed with you and opens his arms. You bury yourself in his strong embrace, feeling small and fragile. You are so relieved that he is here, his mere presence providing much needed comfort.

“No harm will ever come to you again,” Halsin murmurs into your hair. “I shall see to that. I will be there to protect you, little flower.”

The tears you cry now are those of an affection you cannot put into words. Exhausted by your nightmares, you fall asleep wrapped in him. You wake up a few more times that night, scared and shaking, but Halsin is always there, stroking your hair and telling sweet stories until you fall back asleep.

When you wake properly in the morning, your bed is cold where Halsin used to lay, and your sheets are stained with sweat and tears. With eyes still swollen from last night, you scoot to the edge of your bed and test the waters. Your legs carry you - hesitantly, but they do carry you. You stumble through the cave, dragging your sheets with you, intent on washing them so they can dry during the day. You will not make Halsin clean up your mess again. He did enough last night.

When you reach the outside with trembling legs, Halsin is nowhere to be seen, though you find a note at your boulder:

I am sorry if I have not returned and you must find me gone. I did not intend to leave you alone, but you looked so peaceful I did not want to wake you. I am on a hunt - I shall be back before you know it, little flower.

You grumble, but fold the note up neatly to put it in your pocket.

Little flower. He makes you smile even in his absence.

The few steps to the river seem like an eternity, but you need to wash the sweat off of yourself and your sheets. In the shallows, you can sit, though the water is ice cold and even less comfortable than it was in the little pool Halsin once made for you. However, the feeling helps you wake up, and as you are hanging your sheets from the tree branches, hurrying to rest your burning legs, you spot the bear on his way back towards your little camp.

Your heart beats faster at the sight of him: Halsin is back. You knew he would not leave you alone for long - you wondered that he left at all. Then again, you have seen the amount of food the man eats, so maybe it was hunger that drove him out of the cave.

The bear lumbers towards you, bumping your hand with his snout.

“Hey there,” you smile. Sometimes, you find it hard to connect the animal and the man, even though rationally, you know they are the same. But the bear makes it so much easier to touch him, to not feel like you are asking for too much when you let your fingers glide through his fur. He nuzzles against you so hard you nearly topple over and you laugh.

“Oy! Careful there, I’m still not too well up on my legs.” You smile to soften the blow of your words, then point towards the little hollow in the meadow where you usually sit. “Will you come lay with me? I could use the warmth after my bath.”

The bear snuffles and nods his head. You hold onto him, using his sturdy form as a crutch as you wrap yourself up in a clean sheet and make your way over to your usual spot. There are some leftovers from last night to snack on, and Halsin has left you a scroll or two with some stories about the forest. You grow curiouser and curiouser how he has accumulated all that knowledge. You know he is a druid, but he seems to know so much about the forest and all its inhabitants that you want to learn more as well.

The bear curls up next to you, sniffling and groaning quietly as he does. You carefully lean back against him, buried in a living blanket of fur and warmth. He is so comfortable, his breath quiet and steady, his belly expanding against you whenever he inhales.

You have some food while you read, but soon, your eyelids grow heavy and you close your eyes. Just for a moment, you tell yourself. You will just rest for a moment.

Sleep has you faster than a net catches a fish.

When you wake up, nothing has changed apart from the light - it has become the light of a late afternoon, the sun already low in the sky. You stretch slowly, hearing your joints crack with the movement. The bear next to you huffs and shifts. You turn around to face him, raising a brow.

“Seems we’re both having quite the lazy day, aren’t we?” You chuckle to yourself. Your stomach is growling, though, and as much as you wish you could curl up against the bear again, you should probably cook something. When you tell this to Halsin, the bear rises to his feet and trods over to the boulder where Halsin’s clothes are strewn about.

The familiar golden shimmer rises from his fur, and a moment later, Halsin in his human form regards you with warm brown eyes.

“I’ll help you,” he says.

*****

It becomes part of your ritual after that: You, curling up against the bear whenever you grow tired and he is there. Every day, Halsin seems to get more comfortable changing shape around you, and you are happy about it. The bear, oddly enough, is an excellent listener. Telling him things feels easier than telling them to another person, even though you think to yourself that telling Halsin things is already easier than telling anyone else.

Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t speak, or the comfort of being able to touch him without implications. Still, your heart beats faster at any shape Halsin is in, and you slowly come to realise that it’s not only lust that moves your heart. You like him. You care about him - a lot more than you realised.

Sometimes, as long as the nights are still warm enough, you sleep under the stars, curled up in the bear’s warmth, talking about the vastness of the universe or the flavour of the berries you had that day. Sometimes, Halsin the man sleeps in your bed, thick arms wrapped around your body which always seems so tiny in his embrace. He always makes you feel so safe, and he never asks for anything more. He just crawls into bed with you and opens his arms, and you slot against him like you were created to fill that space.

The only time you are ever really apart is when Halsin the bear goes hunting. Sometimes he comes home with his snout covered in blood, but you don’t mind. That is as much part of him as your violence is part of you, and you know he never kills without reason. The forest is about balance, and Halsin would never disrupt that. He starts bringing you wild game to cook and brine. Under his guidance, you learn more and more about the forest and its plants and creatures.

The leaves are almost turning when you are finally fully healed.

You never talk about it - not really. One day, Halsin just takes the bandages off and puts no new ones on. One day, you can make it all the way across the meadow by yourself, and then you venture into the forest, and beyond the cave; in the beginning always with the man or the bear by your side, and after some time, you go on your own, picking berries and mushrooms while Halsin hunts. And you never talk about leaving.

It is a quiet and peaceful and happy life. You have become closer than you ever thought you would, but still, he has never indicated that he wants anything more - nothing, aside from the sparkle in his eyes when he looks at you. You are not even sure him sleeping in your bed is any indication that he likes you… in that way. That his affections are of the same kind as your own.

You try to be quiet in your love for him, afraid of disrupting the harmony, afraid he might leave if this is not what he wants anymore. You don’t press too close, you don’t bat your lashes, you don’t make any jokes, afraid it might all get too much. The thought of losing Halsin is more than you can stand.

One day, you are laying in the tall grass next to each other, your fingers interlaced as you look up at the clouds.

“That one looks like a bear,” you say, squinting at a particularly round accumulation of clouds and pointing.

“Do you say that to tease me?” Halsin laughs. “Have I become so fat and lazy in your presence, my love?”

You frown, sitting up on your elbows, unhappy that your silly joke could have made him think that way about himself.

“You are neither of those things, Halsin. You are perfect.”

“Perfect…” he muses. “It is not in nature to be perfect, and yet all of nature is.”

You watch him, the softness of his profile, the tree trunks of his arms, the lines all of his sunshine smiles have left on his face. And before you can overthink it, you roll over and clamber into his lap.

Halsin’s eyes are full of surprise, but his hands grab your hips immediately, slotting right into place as if he has been waiting for centuries to touch you. You look down at him, anxiety and excitement mixing in your belly.

Halsin looks back, his eyes warm and soft and hungry, mirroring your own.

You lean forward, tentative and slow, giving him time to stop you, to pull away, to lift you off his lap as if you were a feather. But instead, Halsin straightens up, his lips meeting yours in a sweet relief of tension.

You close your eyes, your hands burying in his hair, his fingers digging into your hips. The kiss is sweet, but there is something simmering just beneath the surface - a hunger that is hard to describe but which consumes you whole. Your lips are swollen when you break apart, and your heartbeat is fast in your throat.

“I’ve been meaning to do that for so long,” you croak out, your hands fluttering nervously to his shoulders, his jaw, his chest. Halsin smiles, and it’s the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.

“If I had known, I would have encouraged you more.” His eyes roam your body unabashedly, and heat rises to your cheeks. “All these times I slept in your bed, I could have done so much more to help you… relax.”

You choke on your own tongue, surprised by how forward he suddenly is.

“I-” you need a moment to make your brain function again. “I’m sure we will find some time for that still, my love.”

“Mhhm, I hope so.” Halsin’s fingers stroke your cheek. “I was so focused on making sure you would feel better- I should have noticed- I should have told you that this was always an option.”

“Always?” Your brain is spinning and you think you may have lost control of your limbs. Halsin’s eyes sparkle with amusement.

“Always, little flower. There is nothing under the sun that is not beautiful, and you may be the most beautiful of all of nature’s creations I have ever witnessed.”

You have never fancied yourself a particularly romantic kind of girl, but his words make your heart flutter and your breath hitch. Halsin’s eyes flash golden and he grimaces, his hands tightening on you for just the fraction of a second. The shimmer reminds you of something, something that seems so long ago now.

“The way your eyes just- that time in the pool, when you made a bath just for me-”

“I wanted you,” Halsin interrupts you. “I wanted you with every fibre of my being, but you had never given any indication that you had thought about me that way. I was worried I might scare you away if I was too forward- that you would not feel comfortable in my presence anymore. You were not well back then, and I… I could not risk losing control. The bear would have destroyed you.”

“The bear-” your mouth hangs open at the implication of his words. “Do you mean- I-”

“I told you, it’s hard to tame the beast when blood runs hot.” Halsin’s eyes are golden again in the light of the sinking sun. “Being around you so much has made things easier in some senses, and harder in others. I only want what you want, be it man or bear.”

“Or both,” you whisper. His eyes widen just a fraction, but that is enough. You kiss him again, with all the desperation, all the desire and yearning you have kept inside for the past few months. The groan that escapes him is animalistic, and before you know it, Halsin has picked you up and risen from the ground.

You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you, your back slamming against stone when he presses up against the entrance of the cave.

“Do you know what you are saying, my heart?” Halsin’s voice is hoarse. His breath is hot on your face and you shiver at the look in his eyes - pure desire that sparks liquid fire in your belly.

You tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, lost in the feeling of his strong, warm body against yours, trying to somehow get even closer, to feel even more of him.

“I do,” you confirm quietly. “Though for tonight… maybe I’ll stick with you in this form.”

Halsin laughs, the sound rising into the air like smoke from a campfire.

“A wise decision, little flower.” His mouth descends onto you again in a swift motion. “We’ll have to make sure I fit as it is.”

⋆༻༺⋆༺༻⋆••●••⋆༺༻⋆༻༺ ⋆

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I am once again in tears over him, come and be soft with me my loves. If you would like to be added to my taglist, follow this link please.

@purgetrooperfox @ashotofspotchka @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @ulchabhangorm @queen--kenobi @samspenandsword @rescuethewretched @pinkiemme @baba-fett @witchklng @ladykatakuri @certified-anakinfucker

#bg3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #halsin #halsin bg3 #halsin x reader #halsin x you #big love ahead series #gala writes

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bettyfrommars · 10 months

Note

I need to know what you think about finding a dark siren Eddie Munson. Maybe he got hurt and washed up on the shore? You’re immediately his mate and he loves you very much even though he’s never been near a human. Very much I hate everyone but you vibes for our bloodthirsty friend.

Boyfriend From the Deep

darkSiren!Eddie x Reader

darkSiren!Eddie art here and here

Blurb 1

Blurb 2

18+ONLY, smut, some monsterfuqqing, mention of gore, mention of throwing up, visit from Murray & Hopper, mention of reader's life not going well, AFAB Reader, love at first sight, soulmates, merman!Eddie. wc: 3k

A/N: Another request I was really excited to sink my teeth into. My hope is to continue this eventually, taking inspiration from the 1984 film Splash. Looking forward to what y'all think of darkSiren!Eddie, thank you for indulging me.

---------

Eddie choked and coughed as the wave crashed over him, forcing his eyes open with a gargled gasp. He was pinned up against a rocky ledge, half of his body on the sand and the other half in the frigid water. All of a sudden, he felt sick, and began retching clear bile into the sea. He didn’t like breathing the air, he wasn’t used to it, and it caught in his throat like a feather–tickling—until he coughed and retched again. The gills on the sides of his neck sputtered, flapping open like vents, drying out, trying to conform to the new way of breathing.

It was then that he became aware of the dull ache at the back of his head, and with trembling fingers, he reached back to test the spot with a cringe and a hiss. He checked to find that his fingertips were bloody; he must’ve knocked his head on one of the sharp rocks during the transformation. How badly was he wounded? Would be a shame to survive the journey to human form only to die on the beach and rot like a bloated fish.

He braced his hand, fingers digging into the sand, and flicked his hips to swish his tail to get him unstuck, but then two legs kicked out from his hips, stuck in a fisherman��s net, and it startled him, making him slam his head into the rock again. He winced, eyes squeezing shut, whimpering a bit at the sting of the impact as the saltwater splashed up to his knees and misted his face.

This was Eddie’s first time back to land in over a decade. Mostly because he loathed humans. He loved to lure them to their deaths, he loved to watch from under the water as their ships sank so that he could feed on their fear, curling the sound waves of their screams into his belly like sweet nectar.

He twisted, trying to be free of the rough ropes that cut into his skin, but he was weak, and he wasn’t sure how much blood he’d lost. He was stuck there now, for 7 days and 7 nights, and he thought maybe he’d just find a way to stay hidden…

….until he saw you.

It was rare for you to be up at the crack of dawn, unless it was due to the fact that you hadn’t slept at all, which was a regular occurrence. Long, restful sleeps that lasted hours were just a myth to you, ever since you’d watched your life go down the toilet. A breakup, a death in the family, getting fired from your job; all of it happened all at once, and you were still reeling, teetering at the edge of the abyss.

You were all alone in the world, but for your dog, Louie, and the modest cottage you were renting for a week off the Oregon coast. The beach house was tucked back in the woods, and it didn’t even have a TV, so flipping it on to watch the early morning broadcast or some cartoons to relax your brain was not an option. The radio would have to do, and the first song that came on when you flipped the dial was Brandy by Looking Glass. You hummed along to it as you plucked Louie’s leash off the sofa and attached it to his collar. He was a medium, handsome, mixed-breed boy that you’d rescued from the side of the road as a puppy. Part corgi, part border collie, part…dalmatian? You weren’t entirely sure.

“He came on a summer's day

Bringin' gifts from far away

But he made it clear he couldn't stay

No harbor was his home

The sailor said, ‘Brandy, you're a fine girl

What a good wife you would be

But my life, my love, and my lady is the sea”

It was exceptionally chilly for an August morning, making you bundle in a hoodie and boots for the trek out to the beach. Louie was practically foaming at the mouth to get out there for his run, and since your area of the beach was fairly secluded at that time of morning, you unhooked his leash where the dirt path met with the sand, and he bolted into the fog toward the ocean like a shot. There was a wet mist lingering in the air, like salty, seaweed-scented kisses that made you squint against the bright gray hues turning blue with the rise of the sun. A few seagulls squawked and swooshed overhead, diving down to perch on a large piece of driftwood, and you waved to them, as if they’d showed up just to say hello to you.

You faced the vast expanse of ocean and crashing waves with a mix of awe and defiance, challenging it silently with a lift of your chin. Your reverie was rudely interrupted by Louie’s alarm bark, somewhere deep in the mist.

You followed the sound, walking blind until you caught sight of the jutting rocks at the base of a cliff, and the shrill of Louie’s distress signal was getting further away. Your feet picked up speed, stumbling for purchase in the soft, wet ground as you called for him, a bit of panic stroking your heart. Why did it feel like you were about to start crying? An avalanche of unfelt emotions gathered in your throat as you called for your loyal companion.

But there he was, finally, sitting facing the rocks, tail wagging side to side, making a fan-shape in the sand, basically ignoring you as you collapsed to one knee, cursing, clutching your chest.

You mumbled a whole conversation to him as you snapped the leash back in place and got to your feet. You tried to guide him in the other direction, but Louie was transfixed on something a few yards ahead, and it took your eyes a moment to adjust—but then you saw it. A hand, slightly webbed between the fingers, appeared from around the black rock, digging into the sand, and then another hand gripped the tan earth further along, as if someone were trying to pull themself along by their arm strength alone. The wrists were covered in jewelry that looked like they were made of shell and bone; the forearms tattooed in dotted, swirling black ink patterns.

You were too stunned to scream, mouth hanging agape. You urged Louie back to shield him with your legs. You saw the long, dark hair next, pooling over bare, tattooed shoulders; it was messy and unkempt, littered in bits of fauna and a few empty clam shells, one side matted with blood.

Before your brain could throw the alarm that this might be dangerous, you were already speaking. “A-are you alright? Do you need me to get help?”

That was when his head snapped up, and wide, all-white eyes regarded you with malice, lips curling back to expose a mouth full of pointed teeth. He growled at you, and Louie growled back, but then, after a second, the monster's face softened. The milk white eyes behind tendrils of hair shifted to brown, human irises, and he cocked his head a few times at you, as if trying to understand what you had just said.

You should have fainted.

You should have turned and run screaming in the other direction.

But, for some reason, neither one of those even occurred to you.

You came around to get a better look at him, down along where the water lapped at your boots, and took in the rest of his body; he was tangled up in a crude net from the waist down. He wore a necklace that appeared to be made of intricate fish bones and coral, and shark tooth earring dangled from his ear. The tattoo patterns ran all along his chest, stomach, and legs. You released Louie’s leash, and he sat right where he was told, while you crouched down to meet Eddie’s curious gaze that never strayed from you.

“Will you let me help you?” You asked.

Eddie was in love.

He never believed the stories he’d been told about the imprinting and immediate bonding that happened when you met your mate. He wasn’t just any Merman, he was a Siren, and as a soldier of the dark forces of the sea, he figured he didn’t have time for frivolous things like romance.

But this took no time at all.

You were meant to be his, and he didn’t care who he had to kill to keep you.

He studied your face as you worked to free the wet knot of seaweed tangles on the net, freeing his thighs from the heavyweight, gasping and averting your eyes at the way your touch made his cock twitch and swell. You helped him to sit up, noticing what appeared to be gills on his throat and sides along his ribs. His flesh was similar to that of a human, but also not. It had a thick, rippled texture, like the belly of a snake, and it seemed to glow with a soft blue fluorescence. His muscles were tight and lean, and he didn’t even bother to shiver as a cold wind made your teeth chatter.

You told him your name as another seagull cawed overhead, and asked what you should call him.

His eyebrows clenched together, tilting his head a few times, watching your mouth as you spoke.

“Do you speak English?” You asked it in a cringe way, with a loud voice, as if a higher volume could break any language barrier.

He brought his webbed hand up to touch your face, and you jerked away at first, but then you let his scaled knuckles graze your cheek, the legs of your jeans soaking wet now as you knelt there with what could only be described as a figment of your imagination.

He spoke a word in foreign language, his voice a deep whisper. You remembered how solid white his eyes had been before when he thought you were a threat, but now they were honey brown, almost cat-like in nature as they softly adored you.

“I-I don’t understand,” you breathed, unable to comprehend the time it took for his mouth to find yours, to plant wholesome kisses, to taste you.

You might’ve been in love with him at that moment too, but your jaded heart refused to let yourself believe it.

You did, however, feel the arousal blossom at your core as his tongue fluttered against yours, whimpering with a little click in his throat like a sea lion at the way you returned his kiss.

The urge to mate you, to officially make you his, was too strong for Eddie to take into regard any of the formalities of courtship. Once your hand found his generous girth and began to stroke, encouragingly, that was all it took.

You skittered backwards up onto the semi-dry sand, unzipping your jeans and pushing them down to your ankles as you went, and Eddie followed, bracing himself on top so he wouldn’t crush you, desperate to find your mouth again. His powerful hips bucked against you, and you held him by the neck, begging for more while he spoke to you in that foreign tongue, staring into your eyes, willing you to understand him.

Wanting you to know that no one would ever love you as much as he did; that he would be your one and only mate until the darkness took you both.

The position felt awkward, but there was no time to take your boots off as your hole clenched the air, desperate to be filled. You spun around to get on your hands and knees, and Eddie buried his cock in your wet heat with one swish of his muscular thighs, throwing his head back in a bark of triumph.

You pushed back against him, needing him to move, to stretch you and own you with each push, your fingers clawing into the sand as you whined.

Nearby, Louie cocked his head and tried to lift one floppy ear, but then he turned his face to the sea, trying to give you some privacy.

You’d never been fucked by someone as strong as this sea monster, and your whole body jerked and vibrated under the impact of his deep thrusts. “Yesyesyes…oh fuck!”

It wasn’t long before Eddie clapped his pelvis flush to your ass and spilled inside of you, chanting foreign words, tilting his head to the sky, worshiping you with his offering. He stayed locked there for a while, working his seed deeper with every stroke. When he was done, he flipped you over with a feral urgency that sent sand into your eyes and nose, but you didn’t care, because now his mouth was on you.

Your fingers sank into his matted hair, and that was when you felt the viscous patch and remembered he was bleeding. His big, strong legs were a bit wobbly, and the thought occurred to you, for whatever reason, that he wasn’t accustomed to using them.

But then Louie was barking in the other direction, and you both turned your attention to see a figure appearing from out of the mist. A middle-aged man in a pageboy cap and a trench coat; he was already too close before you knew he was there, and he dropped the walking stick in his hand, his face frozen in shock and terror.

Eddie smelled the foul human approaching and the familiar bloodlust roared in his veins. The fin on Eddie’s back bristled as he rose to a crouch with a ferocious growl. You shuffled as far as you could against the rock, trying to pull your jeans up and cover yourself, not sure what to think of Eddie’s reaction.

Eddie bared his mouth full of sharp teeth in a sneer at the man, his eyes going completely white again. A storm seemed to hit the beach all of a sudden at Eddie’s command, dropping down a gust of wind that rocked the waves and sent the man stumbling off his feet as if the world tilted on its axis, trying to hold his hat on against the force of it. A low, rumbling wail came from somewhere deep in Eddie’s chest as you tried to shield your face from the whips of sand stabbing like tiny daggers in your flesh. Eddie appeared to be sucking the life out of the man from his distance; the human’s body lifted up in the air and bent back. You thought you heard something crack.

It was only a matter of seconds before the man crumpled to the ground, unresponsive, and then Eddie settled, and so did the air around him. After a few heartbeats, there were only the crashing waves and the birds once again, and Eddie’s head snapped to you, searching, making sure you were okay.

He held his arms out and you scrambled over, burying your head in the crook of his neck, letting him cage you, letting him have you.

Louie went over to sniff around at the man on the ground, wondering if he had any treats, and then he lifted his leg and let go of a stream of urine onto his shoe.

—-----

Murray Bauman slammed the paper onto Hopper’s desk, forcing a gust of wind into his face and a couple of yellow sticky notes to go flying.

Murray waited, hands on his hips, the door to the office wide open behind him. Hopper took a deep inhale and flicked a few bored glances from the cover of the Seaside Review back up to Murray’s severe expression.

“Is this your way of telling me you're taking a vacation?” He guessed, shifting back in his squeaky chair.

“This,” Murray jabbed his finger in the direction of the paper. “Is what I’ve been trying to tell you about.”

In the mood to humor his old friend, Hopper bent forward, furrowing his brow, taking a closer look at the headlines.

Murray continued, pacing in front of the desk as he did so. “Merpeople don’t exist? Well then, explain that to me.”

To the right, at the top of a long column and a sketch, was the headline: Reclusive artist survives a Siren attack on the beach and lives to tell: Merfolk exist.

Hopper cleared his throat. “This is a drawing, Murray.”

Murray stopped his pacing, inclining his head, adopting a sarcastic tone. “Notice anything familiar about that likeness, Jim? Does any part of it ring a bell? The white eyes, maybe? The teeth?”

“Sure,” Hopper picked the paper up and plopped it down, further away from him. “It looks like Elvis. Call The Inquirer.”

Murray flopped in a chair facing the Chief’s desk with a huff. He’d keep talking about it even if it fell on deaf ears because he knew he was right. “The migration of the Sirens. Enki, Poseidon, Amphitrite, the legend of the skin-shedding Merfolk who can walk on land for 7 days during a blood moon. Humanoids. Cannibals of the sea—-”

“Stop,” Hopper put his hand up palm out. “Just, stop. Is any of this supposed to make any sense to me? Why are you here? What have I done to deserve this?”

Murray rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, intertwining his fingers. “The drawing should look familiar to you, Jim, because it’s just like the one I saw when I was a teenager, and three summers ago when I was on that death-trap Alaskan cruise. I told you all about it. I told you that I was—-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hopper interrupted. “But again, I’ll ask—why are you coming to me with this? You think I’m going to arrest a fish?”

Murray rounded his shoulders. "I know that Sirens exist, Jim. There’s more than enough evidence out there, and I’m going to prove it to you, if not the world.”

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #darkSiren!Eddie #merman!Eddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #Eddie Munson fanfiction #monster fucking #monsterfucker #monster smut #Eddie Munson smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader

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heartsfourdazai · 4 months

Text

౨ৎ. SLEEPING WITH DAZAI OSAMU

SYNOPSIS: osamu wants you to cuddle him him while he sleeps because your his so called "teddy-bear" when you two have only been dating secretly for the past 2 weeks.

A/N: this was inspired by a mha comic i saw of kaminari and jirou- i forgot who the owner of the comic was, but if any of you could find it, that would be amazing!! hope you enjoy, and reblogs are much appreciated 💌 i rushed the ended a little bit, i'm so sorry!!!

MENTIONS: @justcallmesakira , @atsquie , @rusmii , @atlasnessie , @riiwrites , @ruanais , @pinklacydovey , & @silverbladexyz

WARNINGS: fluff, lowercase writing, unedited, cursing(mild), dazai is 22, reader is around the same age.

"i know your tiiireddd~" dazai whispered in your ear as you two sat on his couch in his tiny apartment. why are you even here, you have your own home- oh wait, dazai practically burned the stove so now you have to live with him until he repair your kitchen. which could take god knows how long.

you shoved your boyfriend of two weeks back, sucking in your teeth, "shut up! i am not, tried!!"

you actually in fact, we're. tired of dazais dumb attempts to get you to sleep with him on his bed.

"but' bella~ it's 1 in the morning; and you've been up since the rise of dawn."

"it's crack of dawn!!"

dazai huffed, kissing your jawline slowly as he lazily wrapped his arms around you, which you tried to fight. "y/n~" he dragged your name out of his mouth ever so slowly, making you sleeper by the second.

"c'mon, come to bed with me. I'll cuddle you the night away, and make sure you get the best nights rest ever~" he kissed your jawline once more, leaning close to your neck to kiss your neck.

"d-dazai!" you whined, trying to pull away but he held a hard hold on you. "i'm not-" you felt him kiss your neck and you broke, "FINE just-! "

your boyfriend pulled away, giving you a sly smirk, waiting for you to continue. you sighed, leaning back into the couch, "just...can we sleep on the floor...not on the bed...you have a blow put mattress, right? we can sleep on that for now!"

dazai thought.

although he loved to tease you on end, he does respect not sleeping in the same bed with him just yet.

with a smile he nods, "of course, whatever my bella wants, my bella gets~"

you pushed his face away from yours as he tried to kiss you again, "just get the mattress before i change my mind..."

you watched your boyfriend lay the flat mattress on the floor in front of his tv and you giggled as he fell forward with it. he grunts, getting up and about to blow it up, "are you sure you don't prefer the bed, bella~?"

you glared at him, "ask me again and i'll go to kunikidas home-"

dazai apologies over and over again, and shuts his mouth about it for the rest of the night.

as the mattress was blown up, and the two of you laid on it.

however it wasn't the way dazai thought it would be, "bella- what are you doing all the way over there?" he pouts, nothing your feet are closer to his head and you were on the opposite side of him.

"i'm more comfortable here!"

"but...i thought you would be over here with me!!" he pouts, whining as he watches you cover yourself with your blanket the two of you had to share, "dazai, your body heat is ridiculous, besides i'm...not ready..."

he nods, suddenly going quiet.

just as you were about to fall asleep, you feel his foot against your face...over and over and over..."DAZAI!!!" "what??!!"

you glared at your boyfriend, who smiled at you.

"get your feet away!!" you pushed them away from your face and cried out his name as he kept touching you with his bare foot. "your so groooss!!"

he gasped dramaticly, and suddenly stopped.

as you were satisfied, you felt something grab your ankle, "dazai what are you- EAHAHAH!!!" you screamed, feeling fingers stroke up against your bare soles.

"fine, i'll just tickle your foot in the meantime!!" he chirped and you cried in laughter, "DAHAHAZAI noho!!"

"ssshh! you'll wake the neighbors~" he teased as you grabbed a pillow smacked him with it..." dahazai yohou piece of shihit-BAHAHA!" Hhe dug under your toes and you slammed your face in the other pillows.

"you wounded me, you know i have an idea to make it up to me!" he spoke over your cute giggles, "sleep with me, and i'll stop!"

"IHI SWEAR- GAGA!"

"lady gaga?? oh, i know you live her music but i don't think screaming her name will stop me!"

as he continued to tickle your foot, you laughed out a surrender. "ohokay! OK!! i'll sleHEHep with yOHou however yohou WHANT- JUSHUST STAHAP!!"

and just like that, he stopped and jumped over on you...you were panting and giggling softly as he cuddled close to you.

"i love youuuu~"

you suck your teeth, "yeah...i love you too..."

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wcbblife · 1 month

Text

Paige as a girl/boy mom HCs! (pt 2)

a/n: hope you enjoy bc this has taken over my mind completely.

Boy mom:

If he ever goes into basketball, she'll coach his little league team and the resemblance between them is uncanny. They're both competitive and when he makes a shot, she'll do those small celebrations (y'know what I mean. Like those she does in games when she's at the bench).

She's a sucker for his toothy grin. Especially if he has some missing teeth when he's a toddler. I think they would remind her of her brother when he was little so much.

In the mornings she has to wake up at the crack of dawn for practices or games, you swear he has a superpower because he always wakes up early too. Those are some of your favorite times because those slow mornings are unusual with such an energetic toddler. He’ll just follow her around and once she’s done with the basics, she’ll pick him up and do the rest of her things with him sleeping on her shoulder.

They would 100% plan one of those cheesy birthday surprises for you. Like they’ll turn on the lights and scream with matching grins while breaking into a birthday song simultaneously.

Your favorite sight is them both waking up with equally tousled hair and matching sleepy faces. I mean he may be your kid, but Paige is literally in every single crevice of his face.

He constantly challenges her by telling her that he’ll finally beat her in video games, but he never can. She does share with you that she’s worried he finally will one day because he’s a fast learner. But it's almost a tradition for them to sit down at least once a week and battle it out.

He also always challenges her to do different celebrations whenever she scores. And he’s always glued to the screen to see her pull it off. It’s a way for them to stay connected while she has games far away. They ask her about it, but she always stays quiet, wanting the tradition to be a secret of theirs.

She looooves to see him wear her jersey. It gives her the motivation to absolutely destroy whoever she’s going against.

You find it funny that he always copies her face whenever she has a tough finish in a game. Like they both have the exact same celebration face (that face scrunch she does as well as screaming towards the air while flexing). Again. Literal twins.

I get the feeling she will just… hold him up by his leg while they’re playing. Then just show him to you like he's a trophy while he dies of laughter.

Both have the same sleeping stance and sleeping face. Mouth opened with an arm and leg slung haphazardly around. She never believes you until you take a pic of them both sleeping one afternoon.

She calls you guys when she’s away and he’ll just snatch the phone to talk to her. They’re usually late after a game.

“Hey… Isn’t it your bedtime?” Paige's voice comes through the phone, tired. “But mom, I just missed you so much! The game was so close I just couldn't go to sleep” You see her smile through the call, “Alright bud, I'll give you this one.” After you three talk some more, they both fall asleep mid conversation, and you could only smile.

Girl mom:

Talking about games, her favorite thing to do after her games is bury her daughter in kisses and watch the way she shies away because they tickle. She’ll be locked in at the end just looking at her and you and she’ll break into the widest smile once you two come walking towards her.

She would 100% be one of those players that does her press conferences with her kid in her lap. Sometimes she’ll be too distracted by her, and her coach will silently ask you to take her for a bit but there's no separating those two. You also would never think of taking her away because Paige literally lives for you and her baby girl.

I think Paige loved to give her baby those early stages baths. She would be so gentle and lowkey scared as she cradles her and passes moist wipes all over her tiny body. It lowkey calmed her down after a hard day to see her girl so calm and peaceful.

Would tease her baby girl by acting like she’s not going to pick her up cuz she gets super fussy about it. She folds way too quickly though.

Has her camera FULL to the brim with pictures of her sleeping and looking adorable. Definitely has 0.5s of her too. Makes her laugh wayyyy too much.

Does that thing where she taps her daughter's mouth really fast while she shouts so that it sounds really funny. If you get what I mean?? It makes them both laugh way too much.

Omg she definitely dances with her by making her step on the top of her shoes. After so many of her birthday parties with music it's basically a tradition for them to do now. It is your absolute favorite thing in the world because Paige is just so tall.

Paige never failed to give you a heart attack when she was still a baby. I feel like she would make a makeshift baby carrier with her morning robe and just walk around with her while the baby snoozed. lol

At the beginning, Paige used to wear bright blue or pink or just neon colors so that her daughter was able to recognize her in court.

Tea parties happen a lot with those two. You’ll open the door to find them sipping on the non-existent liquid while faking some funny accents. They’ll just turn to you with a look of “Can we help you?”

#women's basketball #wcbb #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 years

Note

Hey love! if you're still accepting requests, could I get an extremely wild, rough and feral nsfw Daemon x wife fem!reader please? (feel free to ignore and sorry if the request is weird, but I'm thirsty for this handsome fictional man who unfortunately doesn't exist)

Frost Bite

Daemon Targayen x Stark!Reader

Summary: You were travelling back to home soil in anticipation of your wolf's heat cycle. Besides the fact that you could not stand the sound of your prince husband's breathing and the fact you were certain he would perish in the cold, there was one more reason why you did not want him to join you: the fact the heat was affecting you too.

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Basically PWP, 5k+ SMUT T_T (non-con [daemon touches her while she's asleep], virgin!reader, she cries for various reasons, fingering, choking, biting, degradation kink, corruption kink, spitting, marking, edging, oral [fem receiving], breeding kink, cream pie), RIP feminism, opens with a wet dream, brief mentions of near death experience in a snow storm, dark!daemon (but imo its just canon daemon) fem!reader, wife!Reader, soft!daemon, typos, etc.

A/N: YEAH MINORS DNI. LOL SO I was planning to write this for my part 2 of my Stark!Reader, but i got lazy and didn't want to create a whole plot leading up to the smut, so i removed it all together, which I guess worked out swell for you nonnie, since I was planning something absolutely unhinged. I hope you liked that fic of mine since you're basically getting a p3 of it So here's part 1, here's part 2, but you don't need to read any of them to understand, but i suggest you do for background cos lol this is PWP T_T Next part ig but its a blurb "✨Magic✨" OMG NEXT PART BUT ITS NOT A BLURB "Moon Cycle" Also nonnie, i wanted to tell you albeit asking for smut is pretty awkward HAHAHAH you gotta process these feelings somehow you know. i mean, we could have been criminals, like Daemon, instead but we're not, and that's what matters (unless you are a criminal in which case im closing my eyes) this gif of him is so large on pc but idc he's so hot MATT I WANT YOU SO BAD FUCK OFF if someone snitches to big brother again like in In Your Defense /: Idk if you want to be, but I'm tagging everyone I tagged in the previous fic, as well as the others that commented there SO HI THIS IS SMUT YOU CAN GO IF YOU WANT LOL HAHHAH @aralezinspace @em-the-lurker @blue1006 @mukduk-not-murder @min-jianhyung @deniixlovezelda @moonmaiden1996 @thatmysteriousblog

I caught him. I caught him doing the very thing I dreaded to catch him do. The one thing I accused him of doing every night, though in my heart of hearts I wished he did not... not that I would ever admit it to his face. Because why would I? Admitting it would mean- "You want me," Daemon heaved against the neck of the woman beneath him. He cranes his neck up as he thrust into her, smirking, eyes dark, "you want this to be you," he pants as he stares at me, "don't you?" I am in my place, frozen, watching and hearing the woman come undone underneath my husband who kisses her tenderly. "Daemon," I whimper helplessly, teary eyed, "Daemon please." "Fuck off."

I jolt awake, sweat sheening my neck and chest. I turn to my bed, empty, because though Daemon insisted we sleep together and I could not fight him in his decision, he did not return to me until nigh dawn.

I wipe my face as I recall my intensifying dreams.

It seems my travels up North would come quicker than anticipated.

And as much as I wanted to tell him I told you so, oh to all the gods, how badly he deserved it, there was no time for me to gloat when Daemon did the very thing I warned him not to, fall into the icy river.

It was instantaneous. The cracking of the ice, the splashing of water, the scream that escaped me. Maybe I should have left him in the cave we kept Caraxes, who he insisted on bringing. But then again he would have insisted on joining me to the cabin, the way he insisted on joining me here up North in the first place.

And now I had to deal with the consequences of his actions.

It was sheer miracle that I got him out of the river without falling into it myself, sheer stupidity of me to rid him of his coat and offer him mine when the blistering snow storm was not relenting, and quite clearly the sheer will of the gods that both of us made it to the cabin... barely.

The moment we walked in, I shut the door and scrambled towards the fireplace. As my fingers shivered, I thought of Havoc, and how at least I know she would find mine and Daemon's corpses if ever we do not make it. I had sent her away when the storm came out of nowhere because we had to find cover for Caraxes, and she would not have been any of help to us if she were here with us anyway.

My poor pup. She would be heartbroken if she saw me frozen. And Caraxes...

I curse the flint, I curse the cold, I curse the gods, and I curse Daemon for every time I failed to light a fire. I thanked the Stranger for finally allowing me the mercy of my eventual success.

Once the fire was burning steady, I get on my feet and run to Daemon, hauling him over to the fire roughly in haste where he helpelessly kneels in front of. He could do nothing but shiver as I scramble to get some dry clothes and sheets for the both of us.

I yank him closer to the fire and begin to undress him.

Seeing as he is nothing but docile to my actions and how his skin was turning grey, I began to grow frantic, "you cannot fucking die, you prick!"

I rip his top off and quickly clothe him, "I did not go through all the trouble of marrying you for nothing. I refuse to be forced into another marriage because your stupid ass froze to death."

Daemon's shudder comes out in a thick condensation.

"Fuck," I whimper, as I struggle to get him out of his boots and breeches.

I shrivel up at the feel of his frozen fingers then brush against my arm and I shake my head rapidly, realizing there was no choice. The only way I can warm him quickly enough is if I share my own.

I strip him naked, pulling off the shirt I struggled to put on him as well, then wrap him in a fur blanket in the meantime. I then take off my own clothes and hiss at the nipping cold.

The fact Daemon does not even look at my naked form strikes a chord in me.

I straighten him up and fix the blankets on his legs and thighs before I sit on his lap. I press my bare chest against his and whimper at his dangerously concerning coldness.

He shivers against me as his face rests helplessly on my shoulder. His breath that hits my skin is not even hot.

"Remember, you're too fucking stubborn to die," I say as I wrap my legs around his torso and graciously place his fingers beneath my bottom.

His lack of warmth literally brings tears to my eyes.

I reach out for the other blanket and wrap it over myself, consequently Daemon, before I wrap my arms around him and breathe hotly against his face.

I rub his back, "will you allow irony to take you? The hot blooded prince defeated by the cold?"

He releases a shiver and moves his head. He mutters something, but his quaking body does not allow me to make sense of it.

"Do not waste your energy," I chide.

And so for a long moment, we stay like this, wrapped in each other's arms, sharing each other's heat. I do my best to warm him. I even nuzzle against him, the way Havoc did me, just so I could warm his stupid face.

Daemon finally finds it in him to lean against my touch, and when he does, he mutters under his breath, "irony-" shudder, "-would be if the- N-Northern princ-ces-s-ss died in the cold."

My face contorts and yet I cannot help but chuckle at him, glad he can sputter his nonsense again, "then I should make Caraxes burn you for your stupidity."

I shiver when I feel his icy lips kiss my neck. Goosebumps form on my skin when I feel the hot breath that follows. My hands rake up to his nape, where I then dig my fingers as I pull away.

"N-n-nno!" he stutters, hands coming around my hips to brace me tightly, "I ss-swear I'm not warm yet-t-t."

I pull back again though to face him when I said, "I only wanted to tell you," I lean my forehead against his face, "I fucking told you so, you stupid idiot."

I rest my face on his shoulder and close my eyes, knowing I would not be off him any time soon.

I dream about him. I dream about kissing his shivers away. I dream about pulling the fur blanket that separated our legs away, and riding him until he was warm.

I dream about how good he feels, and how he burns inside me. I dream about calling his name, unlike how I did in my other dreams. I was no longer calling out in betrayal, I was calling out in pleasure.

Daemon.

"Daemon," I trail off in a groan, willing my heavy eyelids open. I feel pressure building up inside me before I understand what's happening.

I not know how, but I am laid on a bed, head on a pillow, form still naked. Daemon is sat up beside me, peering down at me and his hands.

I whine.

His fingers-

"Oh fucking hell," he groans as his other hand begins to knead at my breasts, "you feels so good wrapped around my fingers, I-"

I cut him off with my squeak, hands flying to his arm, thighs closing shut, squeezing this hand in between my thighs.

"Daemon," the dazed quality of my voice is gone.

He tilts his head, face twisting, a challenge.

When I struggle and wrangle against him, all it takes is his hand on my throat to make me go still. I barely manage a choke and my breath continues to leave me as his fingers quicken their pace inside me.

He only releases me after I shake and shudder when I come.

It is overwhelming and nothing at all like I have dreamed or imagined, unlike all the times I've touched myself in secret. It was intense but there was a shame tied to it.

My entire body is hot and tears prick my eyes at his relentless ministrations.

"You were too fucking ready for that," Daemon mutters dryly as he quickly pulls away and shifts in his spot, "how long have you imagined fucking me, hmm?"

Before I even have the brain to do something, he crawls down the bed, "was it when you caught me touching myself to you?" He sinks down, grabbing my legs, "or have you done it before and withheld me of your sweet cunt for no fucking reason?"

All at once, he brings his face between my legs and begins to lick all the slickness off my pulsing core.

"DAEMON!" I scream, pressing my thighs close as I push myself up on my elbows, trying to break free of him.

He ignores me and forces my legs open even as I kick them in protest, "you will not deny me something you so clearly want yourself."

He grunts and pushes my legs down before grabbing my hands that were shoving him away, "you fucking bitch," he grips me tightly, "you will not find it in yourself to fight me off once I make a whore out of you."

I growl at his words, feeling my stomach drop along with my tears because of it.

I was realizing just how strong he really was, and how in moments where our arguments got a bit physical, he has probably holding back. The revelation of this does not cease my attempts at freeing myself, but it is as pointless as I feared.

Daemon rises up from his spot, nearing me, up until he is breathing against my cheek and rubbing his hardened length against my wetness.

I turn away from him, unable to really do anything else and shudder as he speaks, "you said it yourself, you did not go through all this trouble marrying me for nothing."

I screw my eyes shut, feeling tears fall, "Daemon."

He shushes me, pulling my arms up above my head, "you should not worry. I refuse to die now that I know of your lust."

I whimper as he rolls his hips against me, "still, the idea of someone claiming you- fuck-" he groans gutturally, "had I died..." he trails of in another groan, "someone else would have gotten my prize and it would have been all be your fault."

Daemon squeezes my wrist in one hand then grabs my jaw, forcing me to turn to him. I keep my eyes shut though as he heaves hotly, "I should utterly ruin every part of you so you can never have anyone but me. Though make no mistake, I would never let that happen as I so fucking breathe."

"Hypocrite," I scoff.

He laughs and I tense at the feeling of his vibrations, "she speaks."

I dare to look at him as I pant, "you do not desire me. You're just a spoiled brat who merely wants to wet his cock, just like how you do every night."

"Oh," he groans, "is this jealousy I hear?" He squeezes my cheeks, "is my pretty whore jealous that she is not the only one?"

"Fuck you!" I manage out though muffled.

Daemon laughs at the feel of tears rushing down his fingers, "do not cry, foolish wife. I'll have you know I have not wet my cock ever since I called out your name when I fucked someone else before our wedding day."

He releases my face. I attempt to even out my breath.

"I hadn't even realized until she asked me who-"

"And you think you deserve an award for that?!" I quip through my heavy breathing.

He lets out a laugh that makes me whimper, "I think you ought to know that mine own want for you has made everyone else undesirable," he licks my cheek, making me pull my head away from him, "I have been so pent up in want and for what? Because you're too bull headed to allow me anything other than my lonely hand?"

I try to wrangle out of his grip again, and he presses his whole body on me in response, "it's quite adorable that you still have it in you act like you didn't just call my name out loud while you dreamt of fucking me."

He rubs his nose against my jaw, "you wanna know how I know?"

"Fuck off-"

"You were rutting against me like a hussy," he sighs, "by the gods, had I known you were so wanton at night, I would have never granted you the insult of sleeping alone."

I could feel myself burn hotter with each word that leaves his lips despite myself. I did not want him to catch me like this, but there was no use; I was already caught.

As Daemon rocks his hips on mine, he hisses, undoubtedly feeling how much wetter I had gotten was beneath him.

"Fuck," he trails off, "here's what going to happen," he whispers, rutting against me rougher.

I cannot for the life of me withhold my whimper.

He chuckles as he presses his face against mine, "I'm going to make you come with my tongue and then I'm going to fuck you until you cry."

"Daemon, please stop-"

"Your heartbeat against my cock and how fucking wet you are disagrees with your protest, little liar," he croons. He lifts his head, then leans his forehead against mine, "don't worry, my little virgin, you will not cry because it hurts, you will cry because you'll want it so bad that it hurts."

"Daemon-"

"You will not refuse me," he whispers, though it is anything but sweet, "not when there is not a sliver of doubt in my mind that you want this too."

He brings his hands to my neck again and I wait for his grip to tighten, but it does not, "now say it."

I look up at him as my breathing quickens.

"Yield," he commands, breathing heavily all of a sudden.

I look up at him feeling my belly swirl in ways I could not ever explain.

"Admit to both our ears that you burn for me just as I have been fucking burning for you."

I yelp when he puts pressure on my throat then releases it.

"Say it," he barks.

"I-"

"Say you want me," he says softer this time.

I am disarmed by his quick change in tone and a shiver leaves me as the cold finds its way to my belly as he pulls away. Daemon releases my hands then begins to crawl down. His eyes are fixed on my as he mutters once more, "say it."

I shudder as he presses my thighs against his cheeks then whispers, almost begging, "say it."

I turn away from him and close my eyes, awaiting his next actions, for it was not like I could stop him if I refuse.

"Say it," he urges louder, "you know you want to."

I clench my jaw, "just do what you want and be done with it."

He growls, and goosebumps form on my skin when I feel him bite at the inner most part of my thigh. I grip at the sheets at the feel of teeth and tongue. I bite my lips tightly to keep myself from making any noise.

"I should, shouldn't I?" Daemon mutters.

I yelp and look down at him when his finger strokes my core.

His eyes are dark as he airily chuckles at my reaction, "after all I have given you my name, my Targaryen queen. You are no longer your own, you are forever mine."

I watch him as he lifts his head up and kisses my sopping heat. I flinch when he nips at me, drawing my nub out with his teeth. He lifts his head as he releases my flesh. His chin is glistening with my slick as he says, "I want you."

My breath leaves me when he says this.

"And I know you want me too, but I have to-- I need you to say it." He repositions himself in my thighs, "you are after all married to maniac," he breathes against me, "now, say it."

He shakes my thighs, "SAY IT!"

"I want you," I snap, "Daemon, I-" a loud cry rips out of me before I can even continue.

The sound of him lapping his tongue on me, eating me out as if I was his final meal, was somehow louder than my cries. I cannot help but so violently react to him as he devours me. He forces me still in his grip and fights off the movement of my thighs with his face.

It seems as though my admittance has reduced me into nothing but needy sounds.

Without another thought, my hands reach down at him and dig into his silver hair. I arch my back and pull at him when his tongue flicks into me.

"Fucking slut," he mutters, squeezing my thighs as he pulls me apart.

I scream out his name as he digs his face deeper into me. I lift my head up when he pulls away to laugh, "look at you, rutting against me like the needy whore you are."

I don't have time to find offence in his words because I still, not even realizing I was in fact moving my hips against him. He laughs as he continues his work, leaving me no time to feel embarrassment and only hot pleasure.

He is fucking good at what he does. He's so fucking good that my mind wanders where it should not. How much practice has he gotten to be this good? It is precisely because of this that I finally break, "all for you, Daemon," I grab his cheeks, "all for you-- all mine."

I do not see how his eyes dart up to me for I then throw my head back and whine. I feel myself come close to my undoing, "fuck, Daemon, don't stop."

I shriek when I bites me.

Just as I am inching so close, all at once, he pulls away from me.

I pant and stiffen as I hear and feel him spit on me. Much like all other moments, I do not have time to react. When I turn to him, he grabs my legs and shoves me to my side.

I begin to panic when he rises to his knees.

"I'll be fucking damned if I don't make you come on my cock right now," he grunts, making my eyes drop down to the very thing, erect, hard, and angry.

"Get on your knees, bitch," he blurts, though he doesn't give me much of a chance to as he drags me up into the position he wants me by my hips.

I haven't even propped myself up on my arms yet when he unceremoniously begins to pound into me.

I am certain if anyone could hear us in the middle of this storm, they would think I was mad, or worse, being tortured.

"I'm going to breed that prurient wolf in you, just as I'm sure your wolf, Havoc, is being bred right now."

I growl at the idea and feel my belly tighten at his words.

Daemon groans before he chuckles, "that's it, isn't it?"

His relentless thrusts begin to grow sloppy. Suddenly, he yanks me by my hair and lifts me up. His other hand slaps to my throat to offer painful support as he pulls me up against him.

I choke on my spit when my form presses against him with difficulty. He sinks down on his knees, my core wrapped around his length as he shifts me in a snug position atop him.

His hands make their way to my breasts to roughly grope them. His teeth sink down on my shoulder.

I release a wild sound as my own hands come on top of his. I am left moaning at how his mouth sinks into my skin.

Daemon makes sure to suck hard before pulling away. For a moment he catches his breath before speaking, "you did not want me here because you are affected by your wolf's heat, aren't you."

The way I begin to slowly bounce on top of him is enough of an answer to him.

He laughs as his hands depart from my tender breasts, one going down to my sensitive nub, the other sealing my throat again, "you are a fucking selfish bitch for keeping your cunt from me."

My breathing becomes arduous when he tightens his grip around me.

"You would have preferred to touch yourself to the thought of me?" he questions as he rubs on my sensitive nub.

"Daemon," I gasp, pushing my head back as his lips latch on my neck again.

He ceases the moment of his fingers as he finishes grazing on my skin. "Yes, my pretty whore?" he mutters in between his kisses, "what do you want, hmm?"

My breathing strains when his hand tightens around my throat more. I catch my breath when he releases his grip to push my hair off to the side, "tell me what you want me to do to you."

I call out his name. He calls out mine.

I find myself grabbing his hands as I moan out, "I want you to fuck me."

Without another word, I am thrown down to the bed. The only reason I'm still on him is because of his hands that latch on my hips.

I am nothing against his strength. He handles me like a ragdoll, fucking me with absolutely no regard and nothing else in mind.

I make sounds that mean nothing. His name is polluted by my whimpers and cries that you cannot make head or tail of.

I would not last any longer with how he was handling me, even if I wanted to, even if I tried.

"That's it my easy bitch," he pants, "come around me like the needy whore you are."

"Daemon-"

"Your eager cunt will take my seed well when I fill you up," his one hand leaves my hip and rips my head back by my hair again, "don't you think, pretty wife?"

"Yes," I reply without thinking, "yes, yes, yes, yes-"

"And you will give me your pups," he mutters, "bare my dragons, like a dutiful wife will you not?"

My only response is my body breaking orgasm. I shiver beneath him, falling powerless as I scream his name and crumble, absolutely boneless.

Daemon lets out a string of curses as he milks out my reaction for all he's got.

He does not waver once bit and it maddeningly delicious.

My voice hikes up when I feel him release inside me not too late after.

"Fucking come slut," he barks as he snaps his hips in me, "take it all just like that."

I bury my screams in the cushions he presses on, unrelenting. When he finally does grow sloppy, I take a moment to catch my breath and relish the feel of him.

I whimper when he pulls away and slaps my ass.

"The absolute mess you've made of yourself," he coos, as he rubs the skin he slapped.

I can feel myself leaking, I can feel it all over my legs, on the sheets, and I could practically feel his pleased smile as he watches the lewd display. I could not bring myself to care at all though, not when my legs begin to fall.

I squeak when Daemon rearranges me on the bed. He is not at all as rough as he was with me a while ago, but his strength and my lack thereof does not really allow him to be gentle.

He falls onto the side of the bed next to me and gathers me into his chest. When I roll over to him, I groan at the feeling of my wet thighs pressing together.

"Do not make issue of that," Daemon says as he watches me squirm. He pulls me close to him, arm over my shoulders. His other hand hooks behind my knee, dragging me atop him. I whimper and push my hand on his chest when I feel core empty out on his thigh.

He does not allow me to pull away and I turn to him because of this. Daemon forces me close against him, "are you so haughty over my come that you cannot bare the thought of it-"

"But it's getting everywhere," I start off loudly but end with a whisper.

Daemon's nostrils flare as he shakes his head, "I should sure hope so."

I feel my cheeks burn and so I decide to hide my face in his chest.

His laughter intensifies, and I do not enjoy how my head bounces on his ribcage because of it.

"Oh meekness suits you well, my dear."

I weakly mumble, "fuck off."

His amusement continues as he rubs my arms, "you mean, 'I want you to fuck me, Daemon.' "

"I did not say it like that!" I quip, lifting my head as I turn to him, finally making him cease his stupid laughter. The sight of his stupid smug face still glimmering in slick renders me frozen.

Suddenly I am aware of how cold the room still was.

"Pray tell, how did you say it?" he hums, pushing hair behind my ear.

I furrow my brows and press my cheek on his chest again, admitting lowly, "I didn't say your name at the end."

"My," he draws shapeless figures on my skin, "I'm glad to know the moment is burned in your very being."

"Fuck off," I mutter under my breath, scratching my eye. It dawns onto me that my face was equally as wet as Daemon's. Heat rises up my face again when I realize I really did cry because of how good he felt.

"Don't fret," he sighs, "there is a reason why you should not worry yourself about how your pretty cunt is leaking blood and come. I shall fuc-"

I turn to him in concern and push myself up.

Daemon furrows his brows and shakes his head, "it is normal," he soothes, grabbing my cheek, "or did you just forget your maidenhood was still intact after imagining fucking me?"

I am suddenly aware how real everything was. My husband has finally gotten me to consummate our marriage and all his talk of me bearing his seed could may well come true. My chest begins to constrict as my mind floods with endless scenarios.

"Well, if you start frowning like that, I might actually feel bad," Daemon mutters, lifting himself up on his elbows, "what's wrong?"

I look at his concerned expression and find myself speaking before I realize, "did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" he clarifies quickly.

"That you want me," I quip just as fast.

He stares at me for a moment, as if he was taken aback or measuring the truthfulness in my voice. When a prolonged moment passes between us, he realizes I was serious.

"Fuck," he drops his head back, "it must be exhausting to be a woman with your overthinking."

"Well, pardon me for not-"

"You are pardoned," he blurts, making me whimper when he suddenly flips us over.

I am beneath him again. He does nothing but press his weight on me, but I struggle beneath him, not enjoying the idea of remaining in an uncomfortable position.

He misreads my intentions and hinders me from moving, as he wraps his arms around me, "I just told I want you, that I burn for you, that I want you to mother my children. Do you honestly think I am one to say that to anyone?"

I gulp as he shifts to nestle his face in the crook of my neck, "I..." he breathes against my skin. He does not continue as he opts to kiss my neck instead.

When I move to wrap my own arms around him, he speaks again, "I am at your mercy. You saved me from freezing to death when you could have easily decided to rid of me."

I press my cheek against him and begin to comb through the long hair on his back, "I was serious about my distaste to remarry."

"Well, you will not," he quickly retorts, "you will have me until the end."

I bring my legs around him as I release a sigh, "consider me overjoyed by the thought."

He chuckles as he shifts, "you do not sound-"

"I did not want to admit it," I cut him off, "but I think I..." I turn to him as he lifts his head, "I think I... care for you, Daemon... I-"

"Love you," he finishes, staring at me with an unreadable expression.

And for the first time since our nuptials, he kisses me. He kisses me not because he has to, not for the sake of showing everyone present, but because he wanted to, for the sake of showing me.

He is nothing but warmth, nothing but fire, nothing but him. Daemon is not sweet, but in this moment he put even honey to shame.

He begins to stir on top me, though he makes sure his lips do not leave mine. It is because of my moan that we are broken apart, the moan that leaves me when I feel him slip inside me.

"Daemon-"

"You know how I fuck," he sighs, rubbing his nose against mine, "but now we'll both know how I make love."

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obsessive-valentine · 5 months

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Dark-Yandere!Farmer x GN!reader (HC’s)

Much darker yandere than I usually write but wanted to give it a go, I kinda like it but I’ll proof read later. Open to feed back and requests like always !

TW murder, reader is kidnapped, mention of physical abuse and ‘punishment’

He lives isolated from people, his modest farm house and barn in a valley surrounded by mountainous land -some open and other directions with trees. Most of the open land is fenced off and divided where his cows and horses roam but hikers still travel through his land on occasion, he doesn’t appreciate people coming to far into his land; and those who do usually don’t make it out.

...Feeds them to his farm dogs

He’s a busy man running a farm without help but enjoys it, he starts his days at the crack of dawn and finishes it with a cigarette on his porch watching the sun go down. He adores his animals and takes care of his land, he appreciates a quiet life, only venturing to the closest town once a month in his old truck to stock up on luxuries.

He inherited his farm from his father pretty young, he hired people to work it while he worked in the nearby town, until his mother died too and he decided to downsize the farm, fire the people running it and move out there for a quite life away from people and a dead end job. He had no family left near by and didn’t get along with people, the farm was all that he needed.

Until you came along of course, maybe you were a hiker who interested him or you were lost and he pitied you, maybe he killed the group you were travelling with but last second couldn’t kill you. However you found yourself on his farm, you weren’t going to leave, especially after he strips you of all your items- you’d never make it to the closest town on foot if you manage to get off his land without him dragging you back by the hair.

The only contact with the outside is his small flip phone he uses for work reasons, he keeps it locked away in his study with most of his guns etc. He does own a old TV and a few radios, would get you a old game console if that what your interested in but other than that he’s pretty tech free.

There are a two old landlines in the house but they have been cut off for a long time- he just has yet to take them off the wall and pull the wiring out, if he ever sees you trying it however, safe to say you’ll be sleeping in the shed outside. He doesn’t bother locking the windows or doors aside from his study, you won’t get far.

The shed is used as a punishment, it’s a very small worn and empty wooden shed with 2 big locks on the door. There’s no tin for the roof just wood planks that leak during bad weather and the wooden walls have no insulation and small gaps that allow for some beams of light but also allows the wind to whistle through. The only thing that saves you from hypothermia is the thick layer of hay on the floor and few old stale blankets usually crawling with beetles and spiders.

He marches you across the yard, not far behind the noisy barn of animals he pushes you into the shed, muttering as he slams the door hard that it shakes the whole shed and noisily locks it “you did this to yourself sweetheart” he shouts back to the shed as he walks back to the house, leaving you in the cold damp dark and only gets worse as the night rolls on.

At some point during the late hours he comes back to the shed and unlocks it, you can hardly see him in the dark, his silhouette outlined by the stars “you comin’ back to the house and behave or you gonna stay all night?” It’s up to you if he leaves you locked in the shed till morning or takes you inside and warms you up by the fire.

Loves you very much despite being so strict and occasionally physically abusive, he tries to not be so emotionally constipated when you behave. Likes to take you out with him to tend the animals, it’s where he and you are most relaxed and domestic moments come easier.

#Yandere Farmer #yandere oc #yandere #x reader

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pshcomforts · 3 months

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➳ love lee | psh.

idol!sunghoon x fem!reader

“so lovely day, so lovely”

synopsis: you and your idol boyfriend, sunghoon decide to do the tiktok dance challenge — ‘love lee’

warnings/content: written in third pov. cursing. not proofread. fluff! reader’s a little mean but sunghoon likes it (lol). hoon is down bad <3

comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated :)

word count: 1.1k

༘˚⋆𐙚｡masterlist⋆.✧˚

current song playing: love lee by akmu

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

0:47 ────|─────────────── -2:11

the day dawned on coming to high noon. y/n and sunghoon comfortably laid against each other while mindlessly on their phones.

“hey hoon?” she called to him.

“hm?”

“let’s do this dance,” she sheepishly said. the girl shoved her phone to his face with a shy grin.

“this dance?”

hoon moved the phone away with an eyebrow raise. “didnt sunoo do this dance?” he snorted.

y/n rolled her eyes with a soft smile forming afterward. “yes… but i want to see you do it too!”

“so you want me to do the dance, or you want to dance to it together?”

his lips curled into a sweet smile as he watched his girlfriend get flustered.

“either one…”

“let’s do the dance together, gorgeous.”

y/n snickered in laughs as a response while smacking the boy multiple times.

“whatever loser, let’s just learn it together.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

minutes passed by within seconds and the furthest they have gotten were seven drafts saved.

“hoon, you’re doing that wrong!”

“no i’m not, you are!” he teased.

sunghoon’s loud laugh boomed throughout the apartment as he enjoyed watching her get slowly frustrated.

“park sunghoon! you always do good in your tiktoks, why aren’t you getting this?”

“clearly, you’ve never seen the behind the scenes of my tiktoks; and plus, are you really telling your idol boyfriend how to dance properly?”

he cracked a smile while watching her roll her eyes, half playfully and half out of irritation.

“you know, for someone who’s an idol, the way you still struggle on some parts is a bit disappointing.” y/n teased back with a sneer.

hoon huffed out a laugh while saying, “come on, don��t be like that, gorgeous.”

she couldn’t help but feel her lips automatically turning into a smile from the nickname. she sent a soft smack to his arm while telling him to just retry again.

and so they did.

but in all honesty, he was purposefully messing up just to be a teasing ass to his girlfriend. he enjoyed doing tiktok videos with her; watching her become serious over something so small was a euphoric feeling to his heart.

“hoon…,” she said in a threatening tone. her head slowly turned to the boy who was holding back a smile. “stop messing up!”

y/n sent a hand flying to his arm again, but he pushed it away. “hey, i’m just trying to give you video drafts so you can look back at them when you miss me!” he defended with a wide beam.

“you’re so annoying loser!” she screamed back in the same energy. her grin became just as wide as his as their giggles mixed together in the living room.

“okay, okay! one more y/n, i swear it’ll be good this time.”

the sound blasted through the room again after the last eight attempts. y/n and her smitten boy subtly admired each other through the phone camera as they danced together.

✩ ‘spell L-O-V-E-L-E-E’ ✩

within seconds before the video ended, the handsome boy quickly moved in to plant a kiss on his girlfriend’s cheeks. the recording came to a stop as soon as her face lit up in shock.

hoon licked his lips before huffing out howls of laughter. his eyes sewed shut while he grabbed his stomach to sustain the pain welling inside. “y..your reaction,” he wheezed out whilst giving a bright smile.

y/n stood there in shock for a second. it was just a kiss on the cheek but it was still very sudden.

“hoon!!” she yelled, groaning out slightly annoyed sighs. many smacks on the arms were sent to him as he just continued to laugh it out.

“okay! okay! i’m sorry!” he responded, trying to get her back in his arms.

she pushed the boy away — “nuh uh! that’s enough for today!”

he huffed out more laughter as his fangs went out on display. “let’s rewatch that,” he suggested with an eye smile.

“no!”

“oh come on!”

“hoon, i’m serious! why do you have to be like this..” y/n said, letting an annoyed expression show her tone.

“okay finee, i’m sorry” said the boy who was still giggling. his arms flailed around her body to engulf her into a hug. “i’m sorry, like actually.”

he sent pouty lips to his girlfriend, causing a grossed out groan to be heard from her. “how are you so cute and yet so ugly and annoying at the same time??”

sunghoon chuckled out his laughs before placing a kiss on her cheek. “maybe because i’m your boyfriend?”

“yeah that’s what you think.”

his head whipped to her — “am i not your boyfriend?”

“i don’t know hoon, are you??” she challenged, a mischievous grin forming on her face.

he quickly ruffled her hair before nodding with a slightly disgusted look. “fine fine, be petty like that. i know you’re my girlfriend anyway.”

“who said i was?”

the small teasings got to the male as his hands placed itself on y/n’s chin to grab her attention, and placing a peck on the lips. her eyes slightly widened.

“did you really just kiss me because of that?”

“yeah, want me to do it again?” he teased with a smile. his head swooped in to place a longer kiss on her lips, only for her to dodge the kiss with a head turn.

“Y/N!”

“NOPE!”

she ran to their shared bedroom, jumping onto the bed for sunghoon to jump on as well. his eyes lingered on hers as he gently smiled.

“you got nowhere to go now.” he broke out, eyebrows raising in satisfaction.

“you’re right..” y/n said in defeat.

her hands instantly went to his stomach, leaving tickling touches around his body as he squirmed around.

“AH!” he yelled, back now laying on the bed as he screeched out another cry for help — “Y/N!”

the girl laughed to herself in amusement, watching him fall apart with just tickles. “this is what you get for ruining my videos!” she grinned ear to ear as her hands still went around his body.

a few more minutes passed and they were still quietly giggling with each other. y/n stopped her tickles once she figured hoon received enough.

they were cuddled up in each other’s arms as his hands played around her nails, leaving nonexistent scratches as she was comfortably settled with him.

“wanna go make dinner?”

“in a bit, i’m comfortable.”

he chuckled at her response before pulling her in closer.

they stayed in the same position for a few minutes longer, ultimately deciding on going into the kitchen to finally make dinner.

the night ended with the two finishing dinner, and then in warm hugs on the couch for a late night movie — both falling asleep to the sound of the film playing before humming in contentment.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

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shinyscollection · 5 months

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Just Price Thoughts #2

NSFW under the cut, MDNI

warnings: SMUT!!! just pure, unedited, unbetad bottom-of-the-barrel 2am desperation smut. Breeding kink! explicit language. A/N: honestly I'm not apologising for this, price is all I can think abt atm.

Just imagining being Price’s pretty little housewife

the way he’d absolutely spoil tf out of you. Like no, dw my love you don’t have to cook, i can do it, no it’s fine i can get cleaners, don’t you DARE think about doing the laundry i got it.

But secretly?? price doesn’t want you to do it because everytime you do, he just wants to bend you over and fuck you over the nearest surface

So that one time when you woke up earlier than him for once (jesus christ this man is up at the crack of dawn like a fucking rooster), and price wakes up to hear your soft humming, the music playing and the pan sizzling.

Man’s almost had that cartoon thing where he’s being carried by the smell (yk what i mean?), and when he sees you in the kitchen???, wearing nothing but his shirt??? literally how could he resist?

You better pray you don’t have anything on the stove, cause he is not letting you go. He’s already scooping you up, and he’s swiping everything off the counter and he’s spreading you out on it.

Your meek cry about breakfast is met with a grunt as he rips your panties off (no literally, tears them to shreds like the hulk or some shit), and he dives right in, devouring your cunt like it’s fucking ambrosia

Eats u out still you’re shaking and squirming, already such a mess, but it’s okay, bc ur his pretty little mess, and he’s helping you down off the counter, turning you around and bending you over it stuffing his leaky cock inside your pretty little pussy.

Thank god you’ve already cum, cause he gives you no time, just slams into you with reckless abandon, bullying his cock in and out, his hands gripping at your hips so tight you know it’ll leave marks, and all the while he’s murmuring abt how fucking perfect you look, how much he wants to fill you up, pump you so full of his cum so that there’s no way it doesn’t take. How pretty you’d look all swollen with his kids, how much he wants to take care of you, pamper the mother of his children

he’d tug you upwards, hands cupping ur tits and whispering about how fucking perfect you would be as a mother, how loved your kids would be.

And he doesn’t stop until he’s emptied his balls, the both of you overstimulated to the point of tears, and he finally relents, stumbling over to the couch, and he flops down, you on his lap.

And when you try to squirm away, he tugs your hips down harshly, telling you that you’re gonna stay and make sure there’s not a drop of cum going to waste.

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

#captain price #john price #captain price smut #john price smut #captian price mw2 #COD mw2 #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mwii #johnathan price #Price smut #captain john price #captain price drabble #captain price x reader #john price x reader #Price mw2 x reader #Price mw2

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anyarose011 · 19 days

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One More Reason to Control Myself {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Angus Tully knows she's hiding something. Why else would she lie about where she was the morning of Christmas Eve?

Part 5 of ?? (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)

Warnings: Swearing, period typical sexism, and mention of exploitation of a minor.

We get an Angus POV chapter, motherfuckaas!! I had fun writing from his perspective while also giving him a little more backstory as well. Also, considering I want to try and eliminate the Y/N effect, anytime there's a she or her (italicized) it's you, dear reader. Shoutout to me forgetting there was a character named Danny in the movie, so I have to cover my ass for naming the creep "Daniel". Also, part 2 of an Angus/Reader coded song (what do you mean it breaks my heart? No it doesn't!)

Word Count: 7.1k

youtube

“So, why’d you miss supper last night, and why is little miss Jane Bennet missing breakfast now too?”

That was what Mary asked Angus and Paul Hunham at Christmas Eve breakfast. Mr. Hunham glanced around, trying not to show his nerves, but failed. “Oh, we went into town on some uh, school-related business. As for my daughter…I do not know; she wasn’t there when I woke up, have you seen her, Angus?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

Mary hummed. The door opened, and in came Danny, the janitor who, even in the below freezing temperatures of winter, somehow almost had a smile on his face. Carrying in a mop and bucket, he greeted. “Good morning, everybody.”

“Good morning,” Mary pointed to the kitchen. “you can go on in and fix yourself a plate.”

He nodded. “I just saw something funny. I walked into the gym, and someone had vomited in there.”

Angus stilled as he drank his orange juice. Mary looked at him and Mr. Hunham, and the two of them looked at each other.

“You don’t say,” it was Paul who spoke first. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Angus answered loosely.

“No, uh, I’ll look into that right away. Thank you.”

Mary raised one of her brows. “I see how it is.”

Danny shook his head, walked over to Angus, and placed the bucket and mop by him before walking away. “You’re out your mind.”

Angus sighed, fiddling with the eggs on his plate. It had been a week of a frozen hell for him (perhaps not so bad…he made a friend. A friend who, despite there being billions of nerves in the body, she still managed to get on every single one of them; yet, he knows he does the same to her). Still, as Christmas Eve was supposed to be a time of excitement for the holidays, Angus Tully felt nothing of the sort.

He had no idea if it was because he was getting older, or because his father wouldn’t be there after Christmas mass, carrying him out of the car when he pretended to fall asleep.

Maybe it’s because he didn’t live in the same house anymore where the Christmases he used to love took place…

Fortunately, his moments of wintertime dread were gone once the doubles doors from the outside were opened. He watched as Mr. Hunham’s daughter entered, pulling off her gloves and unwrapping the scarf that was brought up over her hair and around her neck.

“And where were you?” Mary was the first to interrogate, sitting beside Angus, still smoking her cigarette.

She smiled, approaching the table. “Out.”

“Out where?” Her father then questioned.

Chuckling, the girl pulled out a chair by her father and sat down, taking an orange of the fruit basket, peeling it. “Just on a walk. I gotta clear my head from you people sometimes.”

Mr. Hunham shook his head, not necessarily shocked by her response, but still bewildered. “Clear your-? How long were you out?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I woke up around seven-thirty, read for a bit, then went out. So…maybe eight? Not for long, that’s for sure.”

Angus knew she was lying. He didn’t mean to peek into her room when he woke up (genuinely he didn’t, no matter what anyone says). Even though Mr. Hunham decided not to wake everyone up at the crack of dawn since Angus was the only holdover, the boy’s internal clock wouldn’t let him sleep in. So, the first thing he needed to do was go to the bathroom, and as he passed by the doorway to her room, she wasn’t there.

He didn’t think anything of it until he was eating breakfast at eight-thirty, and he still didn’t see her.

“I see.” Her father furrowed his brow, but then shrugged, going back to lunch. “Well, please at least eat something other than fruit.”

She took the whole bowl. “But it’s the candy of the good ol’ days.”

“And what are the good ol’ days?” Mary huffed,

“Ancient Rome and Greece,” she popped a grape into her mouth. “also when women had less rights than they do now.”

Angus snorted, trying to then cover up his amusement with a cough. He didn’t find women not having rights funny (please believe him), it was just unexpected of her to say. Still, he felt all eyes on him, and refused to meet any of them as he picked up a piece of bacon.

He likes to think Mr. Hunham’s daughter was smiling at him when she stood up. “Fine, I’ll get real food.”

She went to the kitchen to grab a plate, and Mary hummed. “Never thought I’d see that girl ever be happy this early in the morning.”

Angus finally looked up. “She usually isn’t?”

Mary smirked, placing her cigarette between her lips. “I don’t think you’d last a day with her if you were both ten.”

There was nothing else to do after Mr. Hunham lectured Angus for an hour about the aqueducts in Rome. What was usually two and a half hours was only one, since the teacher claimed: “I’m feeling a little generous because of the season.”

Not because he wanted to drink alone in Dr. Woodrup’s office reading mystery novels (Don’t be ridiculous).

So, that brought Angus Tully back up to the infirmary, to do what, who fucking knows? He glanced into the other room and saw Mr. Hunham’s daughter laying on the middle bed, reading. When she looked up, sensing his presence, he instinctively hid behind the corner.

“You don’t have to be creepy anymore.” She spoke with the sarcasm he knew so well. “We’re friends, remember?”

Angus, playing it cool, entered the room, leaning against the wall. “Who says I was ever creepy to begin with?”

“I did.” She placed a bookmark in her book before setting it down and sitting up. “And you know, ordinary people just enter a room; they usually don’t bother checking.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “maybe you’ve convinced me there are ghosts here and I just want to be safe?”

Not because he was hoping she was in her room and had a reason to go talk to her (Don’t be ridiculous).

She rolled her eyes yet smiled anyway. “Took you long enough to figure out I’m always right.”

“I said ‘maybe’. What’re you reading?”

“Just now or in general?”

“Yes.”

She held up The Two Towers. “You ever read Tolkien?”

Angus sat on the spare bed across from her. “I read The Hobbit my freshman year; one of the only books I liked reading in school.”

His eyes fell to the stack of books on her nightstand. Little Women, Sense and Sensibility, Giovanni’s Room, andThe Count of Monte Cristo.

“You’ve read all of these?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah.” She then pointed to The Count of Monte Cristo on the bottom. “Well, I actually tried to read this one when I was fourteen but got bored with it; I’m trying again.”

“Right after you reread everything else?”

“Shut up.”

She tried to sound serious, but he watched as she turned her head to try and hide her smile. He wasn’t ashamed to show her his. Angus’ eyes went back to the stack of books, and he took out Little Women, flipping to the first page.

“‘Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents.’ Grumbled Jo.” He read aloud, then looked up from the book. “Now I know why Mr. Hunham calls you that.”

“Are you saying I’m selfish, Fitzwilliam?”

He shook his head, going back to reading. “No, you just complain a lot.”

She scoffed. “Just wait until you meet Amy. I love her, but I’m glad I don’t have sisters.”

Angus’ didn’t respond, his eyes trailing over the words on the pages. He didn’t truly know why he kept reading; whether it was out of boredom, or perhaps he was already hooked on the story, he would never tell.

“Wait,” he heard her. “are you still reading?”

“Damnit, you made me miss my spot.” He glared at her.

She already knew he didn’t mean it (that much). Still, the girl giggled, laying back down on the bed and opening The Two Towers, going back to her own reading. They were like that for ten minutes perhaps? It was a strange time that went by fast and slow. No, Angus Tully wasn’t even doing this to think of what to say to her, he was genuinely engrossed by Louisa May Alcott.

Then, it was when he was more than half-way done with the first chapter, that he asked. “Where were you this morning?”

She looked over at him. “I’m guessing you hate the book?”

“Don’t change the subject.” He sat up. “And no, it’s actually tolerable.”

“Tolerable for it being written by a woman?” She sat up as well. “And for your information, I just went to the woods. What, were you worried about me or something?”

“Maybe…I don’t know, maybe.” Were the only thoughts behind his eyes, but his mouth moved differently.

“No. Wait, you’re walking around the woods, and you’re calling me creepy?”

“What’s so creepy about walking around the woods by myself?” She questioned. “If there was someone following me, then they would be creepy, dumbass.”

“I’m just saying, I don’t know anyone who spends their time frolicking through the woods for fun.”

“You didn’t really know anyone, but neither did I, so we’re even.” She stood up, going to the window to look out of it. “I also prefer frolicking through flower fields, but this isn’t the best season for that.”

Angus hummed. “Yeah, I noticed.”

He debated on asking her why she was out there for an hour and a half; if she was in the woods, or if she was even outside. Just as he was battling with himself and wondering how to ask her without her biting his head off, he saw her tremble.

“Are you okay?” Was the first thing he asked.

“Come over here.” She commanded without looking at him.

He stood up immediately, and as he was halfway to the window, she giggled; a sound he had heard before but…not like this, somehow. Angus stood beside her at the window and watched as Mr. Hunham walked on the sidewalk by the quad, stretching.

“Look at that sad, little man.” She tisked.

Angus asked without looking away. “You talk about your dad like that?”

“You would too if he was yours.”

“Point made.”

They watched as the teacher picked up a stray football on the ground, and with perhaps the worst technique ever, threw it. Both she and Angus, as if her father would see them in the window, backed away from it, laughing at the absurdity.

“I almost feel bad now.” She said through her enjoyment. “That’s a lie, I don’t.”

Her honesty only caused Angus to laugh even more, and he can’t remember when the last time it was he had ever laughed this much. Especially over something so stupid.

“Well, it’s obvious he didn’t play football in high school.” He said.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “he’d go on and on about being president of Latin and Chess club.”

That’s where Angus’ amusement ceased. Even if it was at his own expense, he didn’t mind it at all since he could see just how wide her smile could get.

“Angus Tully, don’t tell me-.”

“-What’s wrong with Chess club?”

“I knew it!” She pointed at him. “You nerd!”

“You’re the one that knows all of Roman history and mythology like the back of your hand, and you’re calling me a nerd?!” He teased.

The girl snorted, crossing her arms. “Not all of it.”

“Yes, you do.”

“So why have I lost to you twice now?”

“I just got lucky.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

“I’m serious!” He tried to brighten the strange air that settled in the room. “Your dad didn’t drill it into you for nothing.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” She hummed, sitting back on the bed. “So, you’re good at chess?”

He shrugged, taking a risk and sitting next to her (with about two feet of space of course). “I guess so. My…my dad taught me how to play, and I never beat him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, nearly losing himself in the memory. “I was like nine when this snowstorm hit, I was out of school for almost a week, and my dad and I just played the whole time.”

“So, you played without bathroom breaks, and you still didn’t win?”

“Okay, smartass.”

She smiled. “My dad tried teaching me chess and he beat me every time too.”

“You still play?”

“Hell no.”

“Why not?”

“I always cussed at my him whenever I lost, so probably not a good idea to keep going.”

Angus snickered. “How old were you?”

“Seven.”

“You were cussing at seven?”

“He was an asshole!”

“Yeah, I’ve met him.”

It was almost horrifying how her face dropped at his comment. One where it was like the words themselves shocked her. Then, before Angus could fully register what had just happened, she was laughing.

“Sorry,” she shook her head. “I’m just imaging what you looked like as a kid.”

He tried to laugh it off with her, but that odd tension crept its way back in. “I was weird.”

“So was I. You should’ve seen me when I was twelve, my father drilling Roman knowledge into my head, proclaiming how, if I wanted to be better than all of the boys in my class, I had to work for it.” She grinned. “It’s like he tried to make me a small version of him, which was impossible from the start.”

Angus nodded, not exactly knowing how to respond. “Yeah?”

“Of course.” She shrugged. “Well, he doesn’t mean to, but I feel like he sometimes forgets I might want to wear ribbons in my hair, put on makeup, girly things like that that I almost called stupid, but they’re not. But could you imagine it? My father wearing makeup and…okay, he doesn’t have much hair for ribbons, but you get it.”

“I do.” He smiled.

She nodded, and they fell into another beat of silence. It was almost a competition as to who would speak first, and in the end, she surprisingly lost. She stood up from the bed.

“I uh…I promised Mary I’d help her in the kitchen.” She walked backwards. “You’re more than welcome to keep reading my ‘tolerable’ books written by women.”

Angus hummed, trying to shake off her abrupt exit. “Yeah, I got nothing else better to do. Maybe I’ll meet you downstairs and keep harassing you?”

“Yeah sure.”

With that, she turned on her heel and scurried out of the infirmary. Angus always found her to be strange; from the moment she stepped into Mr. Hunham’s classroom in September, to her just then. Still, it was a strangeness he couldn’t help but be intrigued by. Not the same as how a scientist would study a foreign species but…he had grown quite fond of her.

He already had a liking for her that first day he met her (despite her harsh and course attitude towards the others in class). Not a liking enough to have it be a crush per say (he was still annoyed with her). Then, the whole catastrophe of him being stuck with her over Christmas break only added fuel to a fire.

A fire that has both warmed and burned him all at once.

What kind of shit was he going on about? He read half of a chapter from Little Women, and now look at him!

Not knowing what else to do with himself, Angus slid The Count of Monte Cristo out from the bottom of the stack of books. It had been one of his favorites as a kid; ironic in both a sense that he read it as a child, but also his mother of all people recommended it to him. Before he could even flip it to the first page, he saw a small gap in the middle as if there was a bookmark. He opened it and found a letter; an already opened letter.

Angus’ blood ran cold at the sight of it, and as he took it onto his hands, he turned it over. It was addressed to her, and the stamp was a toy train. He had only gotten a glance at the first letter when Teddy stole it, and he recognized the stamp.

Sighing, it almost felt like the envelope was burning in his hand as he hunched over himself. He could’ve read it…it was right there, and it was already opened so it’s not like she would’ve ever known.

But he would’ve. And he knew there was no going back if he read whatever Daniel wrote to her, and even if it wasn’t bad (how could it not be), then he knew she’d be able to sniff him out like a rat that he’d read it.

Wait…Daniel…Danny…The janitor.

“Shit!” Angus hissed, almost falling off the bed, then sprinting out of the infirmary and running blindly though the school he has gone to for months.

He ran outside without a jacket on, looking around for Mr. Hunham. When he already saw his fingers beginning to turn white in a matter of a minute, he ran back into the school and navigated the halls as if he were a bat out of hell.

It took him quite literally running into Mr. Hunham for him to finally stop.

“God almighty, Mr. Tully!” He gasped. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Angus, trying to catch his breath, said. “Mr. Hunham, I have to tell you something.”

Immediately upon noticing his distress, the teacher’s harsh demeanor and voice dropped. “Well…alright, what is it?”

“Can-.” He looked around, feeling suddenly exposed in the hallway. “Can we do this somewhere else?”

“Sure, sure.” Mr. Hunham nodded, looking around as well until his eyes landed on the first door he saw. “Let’s uh, is there fine?”

“Yeah.”

They both entered into a classroom that neither had been in before. It was smaller in size, more than likely meant for honor’s classes, but it looked like it hadn’t been dusted since the beginning of the year when parent’s would visit. When the door was shut, Mr. Hunham turned back to him.

“Now, what’s going on?”

Angus said her name. “Someone’s been sending her letters.”

“What kind of letters?” He asked, his face a mix of confusion and even a hint of denial.

“I…” Angus looked down at the one he had in hand and held it out to the teacher. Mr. Hunham took it, slipping his reading glasses out of his pocket. Angus continued. “Someone named Daniel sent her one days ago, Kountze stole it and read it aloud to everyone back in the woods. I think it’s Danny, the janitor.”

The moment he said ‘Daniel’, he’d already seen Mr. Hunham’s entire demeanor change. He saw him visibly tense, as he read the letter what must have been a million times. As time stood still in the dingy classroom, the teacher swallowed thickly.

“You said she got another letter a few days ago? Where is it?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head.

“Mr. Kountze read it aloud, what exactly did it say?”

“I…” Angus paused, trying to remember just what was written so he wouldn’t miss a thing, “He asked her to send a picture of herself to him, and wished her a Merry Christmas. He sent her thirty-five dollars too; did he send more?”

Mr. Hunham shook his head, obviously bewildered at the amount of money. “No, he didn’t. Mr. Tully, did you even read this?”

“No.” His response was instant.

“Why not?”

Angus’ eyes trailed to the side, somehow finding the blank chalkboard much more appealing than Mr. Hunham. To be honest, anything at the time was more-.

“Angus,” His voice was stern, but not mean. It was enough to catch the boy’s attention, but not enough to scare him. “I need to know what you know, so we can help her.”

He took a deep breath. “Teddy made a joke that she…she…has pictures of herself in a skin mag.” It was absolute hell to watch Mr. Hunham sigh, so Angus looked away as he continued. “She didn’t say that she did, but she didn’t deny it, and I didn’t want to know whatever creepy shit Danny sent-.”

“-First off,” Mr. Hunham interrupted, rubbing his face. “this isn’t Danny the janitor.”

“How do you know?”

“Daniel,” He tried to say the name like he was a historical figure and not someone who made his skin crawl away from his body. “was...a family friend of some sort. That is all you have to know about him.”

Angus nodded, but couldn’t ignore the tightness in his chest, and how his stomach began to tie itself into knots as he asked. “Why did he stop being a family friend?”

“I said that’s all you have to know about him.” He said with more of a bite, then calmed himself. “I’ll speak to her about this the next time I see her, and rest assured, I won’t mention you.”

“She’ll know it’s me.” He shook his head. “I found it in one of her books when she left the infirmary after we talked.”

Mr. Hunham clutched the letter in one hand while removing his glasses with the other. “Regardless of details I cannot share with you, this little incident should not effect on how you view my daughter-.”

“-It doesn’t! I just-!” He lashed out unexpectedly at even the assumption of him finding any shred of blaming her for what was happening to her. “I just…I want her to be okay. That’s it.”

The teacher all but froze at his response, it is apparent that he was not expecting him to say that. Still, after regaining himself, he nodded. “You’re a good man for doing this, you know that, right?”

Angus scoffed, shrugging. “I don’t think she’ll talk to me ever again.”

“She may not,” he nodded. “but she also might. I won’t force her to do either. Again, thank you for letting me know.”

“Sure.”

The two of them walked out of the classroom in silence, and with Mr. Hunham’s “See you at dinner?” and his student’s nod, Angus Tully was left alone again in the grand halls of the school.

A fate that has somehow always caught up with him ever since he got there.

Angus read the same Popular Mechanics magazine three times over since he found it the night he was the only one left behind at Barton, and he’d gotten sick of it after the second time.

So, with nothing else better to do, and with it starting to get dark, he went down into the kitchen, where apparently everyone but Danny was, helping Mary cook. Including her. She was washing vegetables in the sink while Mary was preparing a roast, both of them laughing at someone one of them said. Mr. Hunham was just at the table, peeling potatoes like his life depended on it.

“Mary.” Angus greeted, smiling at her. Mr. Hunham’s daughter immediately turned back to the sink upon seeing him.

Mary looked up. “Speaking of…”

Deciding to ignore the strange tension in the room (He has a knack for doing that, doesn’t he?), Angus’ eyes traveled around until they landed on a dish beside him. “Oh, brownies? God yes, I want all of these.”

“Ah, ah!” Mary scolded when he took one. “Just take one. The rest is for the Christmas party tonight.”

“What Christmas party? There’s a Christmas party?” He said her name. “Did you know there’s a Christmas party?”

She didn’t turn around, and only responded with. “Uh-.”

“-Yes, at Miss Crane’s house.” Mary interrupted her. “She and I are only going for a little bit, show our faces, and say we were there. Well, she might stick around since her little friend is there. You know, Miss Crane said she invited you too.”

Angus furrowed his brows, looking over at Mr. Hunham. “I want to go to the party.”

He stammered. “She-she didn’t mean it. We were just making small talk.”

Mary shrugged. “If you don’t want to go, don’t go. I’ll take him.”

“Mary can take me.” Angus reiterated.

“No, that’s not how it works.” Mr. Hunham raised his voice a hint. “You’re under my supervision.”

Angus frowned. “So, your own kid isn’t under your supervision, but I am?”

“Don’t even think about pulling me into this.” The ‘kid’ in question shook her head, not even turning around.

Still, he scoffed, bringing his eyes back to Mr. Hunham. “Okay, maybe it’s fine for you to sit around here and read books all day,” he turned on his heel, beginning to walk out. “but I’m losing my goddamn mind, Jesus!”

“Hey!” Mary yelled at him once he threw the brownie across the room. “Watch your mouth, young man! Not on Christmas Eve.”

Angus ignored her, storming off back to the infirmary. He didn’t even make it to his room and a bed to dramatically throw himself on and scream into a pillow. He rested his back against the wall before sliding down it. Now sitting, his shoulders still tensed at what just happened. He’d been stuck in the school for a full week, only being able to go out when he dislocated his entire shoulder.

Who the fuck did that piece of shit think he was for holding him captive?!

Closing his eyes, he thought back to what Dr. Gertler told him. Sure, the guy was a quack, but once or twice he actually had a few things that helped him. Angus breathed in, counting to four, held it for three, then released it for another four.

He repeated that until he felt the tension (mostly) fall away from him, and there was even a hint of calmness in his head.

Which was then lost when he opened his eyes, and she was peeking from around the corner.

“Jesus!” He gasped, and she immediately hid. Once his heart stopped beating so damn fast, he said. “Okay, now who’s being creepy?”

“…Me.” She said after a moment’s silence, still hiding.

Sighing, rested his head against the wall. “I’m sorry I yelled earlier.”

She finally showed herself, standing in front of him now. “I don’t think I’m the one you should apologize to but thank you. My dad said you can go to the party with Mary and I.”

That got Angus to sit up taller. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, but he’s going with us, so it won’t be that fun.” She joked.

He snickered along with her, before asking. “What about dinner?”

“We’ll probably just have it at Miss Crane’s. We’ll just have a nice lunch or something tomorrow instead of tonight.” She explained before walking into her room.

This was what caught Angus Tully off guard. She wasn’t exactly acting like her father had just confronted her about the letters, she was being too nice to him…so did she know it was him? She had to; or was he just overthinking it and getting in his own head (Something he did frequently)?

“When are we leaving?” He asked.

“In an hour!” She yelled, her voice somewhat muffled. “So, get on it, Fitzwilliam.”

“Anything you say, Amy!”

He ran off before she could storm after him (like he assumed she would), and went back into his room, which had darkened quite a bit. He went to his bag and took out the razor and shaving cream that he had only opened a few times since the beginning of the semester. He shook the can and applied the cream to his face before bringing the blades of the razor up to shave.

There was honestly no need to. It’s not like he even had “sawdust under his nose” as one would put it when talking about the mustache men would try to grow after watching Top Gun, which didn’t exist at this time, but that’s beside the point.

Even so, as he wat attempting to shave what was not there, he heard a knock, and her voice asked. “Are you decent?”

“Yep.” He answered, not even bothering to glance at the hall of lockets she had knocked from.

She came into his eyesight and stood so close to him in the mirror that he could feel the heat of her skin on his. “Move over.”

“Why?” He scoffed playfully, yet still did so.

It was only then he noticed the small makeup bag she had in her hand, and she placed it on the sink before opening it and taking out a sponge and small jar of liquid that matched her skin tone (it was foundation; he’d heard the word before but didn’t know it was that until perhaps a year later).

“The lighting’s better in here.” She answered, getting close to the mirror and dabbing the liquid on the sponge and upon her face.

Angus took a second (and only a second, if he took any longer she’d yell at him) to look at her entire self, and saw that she was wearing a dress. A dress that he would never have imagined on her. Her hair was almost the same as always...but there was something more to it he couldn't quite verbalize.

She was still herself, and it was silly to Angus Tully that it took a different dress and perhaps some makeup (something he’d hardly see her wear) to realize just how…just how…

“You look…” His mouth trailed off faster than his brain before he could stop himself.

After finishing her foundation, she took out a powder and brush. As she applied the powder, she glanced up at him through the mirror, a smirk on her face that was holding back a laugh. “Yeah?”

He couldn't call her ‘pretty’ (both because she’d never talk to him again, and that would be belittling her), and he couldn't call her ‘beautiful’ (she just wouldn’t talk to him again period; and he’d probably be scaring her off). So, apparently, the best thing he could think of in a limited amount of time was-.

“-Like a girl.”

Oh, how attractive it was to open one of the windows and jump out of it. If it wasn’t the fall that would kill him, it would certainly be freezing to death in a foot of snow.

Instead, to his surprise, while she momentarily scowled at him (as she should have), she giggled. Shaking her head, she said. “I would say you look like a man, but there’s nothing about you to prove that.”

As his heart began to beat again from her apparent lack of offense, he took the towel off the rack and wiped the residue cream off his face. “Oh yeah? What am I then?”

“A boy.” She set down the brush and took out a small tube of liquid, shaking it. “A tall, little boy.”

He snorted, walking away from the mirror when her gaze became just a little too much. “You said you were friends with Miss Crane’s niece?”

“Yes.” Her tone changed somewhat (or was he just overthinking it).

“Do you think I could-?”

“-Should I put on eyeshadow?”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“You know,” she turned over her shoulder. “the color that goes on the eyelids?”

“I know what eyeshadow is. I’m not that big into makeup, so I don’t know.”

“Really?” She teased. “You aren’t into makeup?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She turned back to the mirror, opening the tube. “Nothing.”

Angus’ eyes scrunched as he smiled at her playfulness. “Well-.”

“-Shut up.” She interrupted him.

He scowled. “Huh?”

She had the pen (it was eyeliner; he actually knew what that was) hovering over her right eye, and she was glancing at him again through the mirror. “I’m doing the most important part, and it’s the one I’m horrible at, so I need complete silence.”

Angus Tully merely nodded, looking away. He didn’t know how long she took, but she knew she was finished when he heard her gasp.

“I did it!” He looked back and saw that she turned to him with the biggest smile on her face, and blackened wings kissing the corner of her eyes. “I did it!”

He could only nod. “Yeah, it looks good.”

She grinned from ear to ear before turning back to the mirror, setting down her eyeliner and getting out an eyelash curler. “Could I ask you a question, even though you’ll feel stupid afterwards?”

“Do your worst.”

“Why ‘Amy’?”

Angus felt safe to smile at that. “Does that bother you?”

“Why, on God’s green earth, would you say I was like Amy?!”

“Well,” he shrugged. “it pisses you off, that’s the first reason. Second is…she grew on me.”

She scowled, turning to look at him. “Oh yeah? How so?”

“I mean…you made her out to be so annoying, and someone who complains a lot which, yes she does. But she’s funny, and she sticks to herself like Jo does, but…I don’t know, I just like her.”

Her face fell for the second time that day; but not like it did that afternoon when he made a joke about her father. No, this time, he knew it was because she truly didn’t think he would say anything like that.

And, for the first time since he’d known her, she almost looked shy.

Something he thought would be the thing that terrified him the most that entire Christmas break.

So, when she didn’t respond, and wanting to disrupt the awkward silence, he then asked. “Wait, why was your dad so against going, but now he’s fine with it?”

She looked back at the mirror, looking at him through it. “Besides the fact it wouldn’t be fair that you’d be stuck here while I’d go, he has a crush on Miss Crane.”

Angus snorted. “Figures.”

She shrugged. “I kind of always knew. I mean, she’s worked here for five years, but I think he only started liking her last year. I’m also not sure what he’s more afraid of; how I’d react to him liking someone after Mom died, or him just liking her period.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

“My mother’s been in the ground for six years.” She decided to take the eyelash curler back in her hand, then brought it up to one of her eyes. “We still visit her of course. She wasn’t selfish either, and it’s been so long, so I don’t think she’d mind. Besides, I’m going to technically graduate next semester, and I don’t want to be stuck here, but I also don’t want him to be alone. Mary’s really his only friend so…yeah, I think I’d be okay if he was with Miss Crane.”

Angus nodded. At first, it felt almost invasive and even wrong for her to tell him all of that so effortlessly. But…he leaned into it the more she went on. She’d been vulnerable with him before (whether she thought it or not, she had been), but this time…it wasn’t a huge confession, it was just a simple conversation.

“I don’t…” He found himself saying.

He didn’t what? What was he going to say? Something about his father? His mother? It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her something.

She took the curler away from herself and turned to look at him. Her eyes…her damn-no, they weren’t damned; they were kind, gentle…but still he felt damned just as she looked at him in a way he hadn’t ever seen her look at anyone before. She was waiting for him to say something.

Say something.

She hadn’t said a word, hadn’t done anything but stare at him, but he was suddenly twelve again. Angus Tully, with his hair that was just beginning to have out of place curls, walking into his parent’s room at two in the morning. He woke his mother up, who gasped when he touched her. After she calmed down, she was appalled to see him crying.

It wasn’t a bad dream, it wasn’t because something had happened to him at school; he didn’t know what was making him weep, but he was doing it anyway.

He could barely say anything, he babbled like a baby learning to talk, and all he could get out was “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

His mother tried her best (he liked to himself that), but she could only say “I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong.”

Didn’t she hear him? He didn’t know.

Even now, at seventeen, he didn’t know what to say to her.

“I don’t know how you can use that.” He glanced at the eyelash curler.

She furrowed her brow upon the change in tone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, it looks like a torture device.”

Scoffing, she looked back to the mirror and curled the lashes of her other eyes. “You’ve just never tried it before.”

“And I never will.”

She looked back at him once she was finished. “Are you scared?”

“No, I just don’t see the reason to.”

She shrugged. “I think you’re scared.”

“Am not.”

“Okay, then let me put mascara on you.”

He scoffed. “You’re kidding.”

“No.” She shook her head. “If you’re not scared then you’ll let me stick something in your eye. You don’t have to wear it to the party, but I think it’d be fun.”

Angus was at a loss. She was a good actress, so how was he supposed to know she wasn’t messing with him? Well…he didn’t; he just had to trust her. To be fair, he had been weird around her this whole time, so…

“I’m not doing the torture device, just the makeup.”

Her face lit up, and she took the mascara out of her bag, setting everything else inside of it. “Get over here.”

He followed, leaning against the wall by the mirror. Suddenly, as he stood in front of her, he was nervous. It wasn’t the first time he was (whether that was because of her wit, her confidence, or even her meanness), it was because it was just her.

“How uh,” he stammered. “how are we doing this.”

“Lean down first of all, fuck why are you so tall?”

“Not one of my favorite qualities.” He joked, pressing his hand against the sink for support as he lowered himself slightly.

“Meh,” she shrugged, unscrewing the cap of her mascara. “girls usually like tall guys.”

His heart flipped. “Yeah?”

She froze momentarily before continuing. “I guess. Elise told me.”

“Right.”

“Okay, close your eyes. You’re going to want to open them when you feel something touch your eye, but I promise you, you don’t want to do that.”

“Sounds good.” He closed his eyes, waiting for the feeling of discomfort. He could feel the heat of herself hover around him, but the pain from the mascara never came.

He heard her sigh. “This isn’t going to work.”

Angus opened his eyes when he felt her draw away, and he saw her sit on one of the beds. She titled her head. “Come here.”

He didn’t know if his heart was still or was going to beat itself out of his chest. Obviously, he sat by her before but…he had to be closer to her. Angus did his best not to make a big deal of it, but he felt like he was almost watching himself outside of his body as he sat beside her and closed his eyes.

“Do you want to know what my mom called me when I was younger?”

She was trying to distract him and he knew it. “Sure.”

“Ever heard of Orpheus and Eurydice?”

He tensed but soon relax when she rested her hand on his cheek; it felt like she was burning him, but the way that he felt whenever he had a fever. Somehow…it was comforting. Breathing shallowly, he answered. “Greek? Kind of.”

“Well,” he cowered away a little when he felt something brush his eyelashes but kept calm as she continued. “where my father loved Roman history and mythology, my mother was more into the Greeks. They’d go back and forth debating on which was more influential, and that was more so how they became friends. She…before I was born, she talked about naming me Eurydice because it was her favorite story. My dad was obviously against it, so that was a no. So, that’s when she’d just call me Eurydice at home a lot, just to piss him off which was funny.”

Angus hummed, paying attention to her words, but having to bite his tongue to keep himself grounded from losing himself within her touch. “What’s she like in the story?”

“Not much to her.” She moved onto his other eye. “Well, what it gives us anyway. I always had my mom tell me their story, and Eurydice kept changing. It was always who I was like growing up.”

“Really?”

“Really. I was shy around the other kids when she first told me-.”

“-You, shy?”

“Shut up, I’ll mess up your eye if you make me laugh. But yeah, so Eurydice was quiet and shyer. Then, when I’m like nine, I’m a bit more outspoken, angrier even, so she became that.”

He didn’t move his head, scared that he’d mess her up. It was then, after she stopped speaking, he could feel her breath on his face. Her hand was still warm against his cheek, and he found himself leaning into it more and more. He had not felt this sense of peace since…he couldn’t recall.

“Done.”

With one word from her, she took her hand away and he opened his eyes. She was still so close to him, and while he saw her smiling at what he assumed had been her work, it was him staring at her that made it drop. Still, she didn’t look frightened nor upset, she was just…looking at him.

The moment his eyes dropped to her lips for only a second, it was all over.

He’d thought about it, of course. He wanted to. But…like with everything about her, he froze.

She didn’t.

“You…” She stood up from the bed, straightening the skirt of her dress. “you should probably wash that off after taking a look.”

Angus didn’t have time to respond before she grabbed her makeup bag and ran off. He just sat there, trying to process if he was waiting to wake up from a dream, or if it had been in fact real.

When nothing happened, he sighed heavily, getting up and walking towards the mirror. His eyes looked different, and he felt weird. He could not tell if it was from the makeup, her, or both. Still, what he did know, was that he made a fool of himself.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #paul hunham #the holdovers #mary lamb #Youtube

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