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buckets-and-trees · 6 months

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Sweet, sweet Aspen. You have been a very bad girl. This soft!dark guy, your boss, caught you doing something wrong—something that could easily get you fired—but he decided maybe, jussst maybe, he should keep your indiscretion, and your resulting punishment, between the two of you. After all, he’s been dreaming about filling you with his cock for ages 😏

(I picked this GIF because it looks like he’s saying, “On your knees.” lolll)

well, dearly beloved sister ho, you know we were thirsting over a particularly ... inspiring gif.

I don't think you anticipated your ask to spawn THIS, but... here we are! THANKS FOR POPPING MY ANDY CHERRY!

Fandom: Chris Evans Characters Title: I'm Your Man Characters/Pairings: soft dark!Mafia!Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 3k

Summary: You've spent weeks working to pull off the perfect night for Andy Barber's big charity event. A rush job, but you worked meticulously and diligently over six weeks to coordinate the biggest event of your career to date. You weren't the only one with a plan for the night.

Content Warnings: extortion, explicit smut, DUBIOUS CONSENT, spitting, oral - male receiving, spanking, vaginal intercourse, breeding kink, unprotected sex

Logistical Notes: A NAUGHTY submission @the-slumberparty's Naughty or Nice challenge. Prompts incorporated are in bold.

Additional Notes: I didn't want to write a summary. There's only enough plot here to smut you up. Dividers by @rookthornesartistry and @firefly-graphics.

You sit up straight when you hear the door to Andy’s home office open behind you.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” he says as he strides across the room and takes a seat in the leather executive desk chair.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Barber,” you reply. Every part of your body is tired – tired in a good way from the long day of work – so you were eager to get home, soak in your tiny tub, and crawl into bed for the rest of the weekend, but it hadn’t been an incredible inconvenience when he’d asked if he could speak with you before you left.

“Tonight was exquisite, you did well,” he doles out the praise, and you try to quell the blooming in your chest. In the six weeks working with Andy Barber to plan the charity event you’d just executed for his foundation you had seen that he wasn’t one to casually compliment, hard to impress. You had taken more and more satisfaction out of each meeting, email, or text exchange as you consulted and then presented him with options for the event when he had fewer and fewer notes, knowing you had cracked his taste and gained his approval. He’d been your toughest client to date, but by far one of the most rewarding as he had excellent taste.

“Nearly perfect,” he adds.

Your smile falters ever so slightly, and suddenly your chest floods with a chill. “Nearly perfect? I’m sorry, sir, what didn’t live up to your expectations?”

This was far from your first event, you had built an incredible portfolio over the years, and you knew you were finally ascending to be one of the best event coordinators on the eastern seaboard – you had received an email request from a goddamn Vanderbilt to plan a wedding for them in a year and a half that you were going to respond to and accept in the morning. You weren’t arrogant, but you’d worked damn hard and knew you were good.

“You.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “I – what?”

“Only one misstep tonight.”

Your brain flies back through the evening, reviewing every moment, raking through trying to determine what you could have possibly missed.

“I’m very particular about what belongs to me, and I cannot abide theft.”

Your jaw drops.

“Empty your bag.”

Now your whole body is buzzing with incredulity. You shake your head.

“I know what’s in there.”

You almost didn’t take this job when it landed in your lap. He was the reason you knew you should have said no. There were whispers about his reputation, his real businesses. But you took the initial consultation because the pitch was more money than you’d made over the last three years. Then when you’d met him, he’d been so normal, so nice, maybe a little charming, and up until this moment you had convinced yourself there was no way any of those rumors had been right.

But before you even put your hand in your bag, you knew you were wrong to have thought he wasn't all those awful things.

Not one, not two, but three Rolex watches nestled in the bottom of the main pocket. Watches you'd never seen - wouldn't even have known where to find them.

You scoop them out and drop them on his desk, eyes burning with tears. “Why?”

“Yes, why? I was already giving you a fat paycheck. What a shame when I had just given your name to the Vanderbilts’ social secretary for their son’s wedding a few days ago, I’ll have to reach out and let them know.”

“No,” you breathe.

“I’ll have to discreetly let everyone in my network know it’s better not to invite someone in their home with such light fingers.”

Your breath hitches and your hand flies to your mouth to stifle an almost sob, trying to hold back the onset of tears. “Andy, no, please.”

His smile softens. “There we are,” he coos, “you finally called me Andy like I’ve told you to so many times.”

He leans forward resting his arms on his desk.

“Now, if you go upstairs, be a good girl, put on what I left for you in my room, and wait for me, maybe I can make all of this little misunderstanding go away.”

His steel blue eyes are hard, they demand an answer.

You cock your chin up wishing you could say no, wishing you could even scowl at him, but aside from the heat and hurt in your eyes, you know you can’t do anything more without risking further ruin, so ultimately you let your chin drop and nod, resigned to the impossible power this man wields.

“Now we’re back on track for a perfect night, sweetheart. I’ll be up soon.”

You don’t know how long he makes you wait, using the promise of soon as another show of his power, but long enough that your knees hurt from sitting back on your heels in a submissive, kneeling position with your head lowered, hands folded in your lap, and back to the door as the card in the white box left for you had instructed.

Also in the box had been a set of exquisite black lace and silk balconette bra and cheeky underwear. That they fit you like a glove had been both humiliating and alluring.

Even though Andy was the reason you almost said no to the job, even though he was the humiliating reason you were in this position – extorted into a nearly naked state, no question of what was to come – he was also the reason you took the job.

Dread pooled in your stomach, but along with the dread and humiliation, there were rivulets of shameful desire.

You had taken the job for the money and for how quietly charming he had been. He had never outright flirted with you, but he always left you with the question of whether he was. You worked hard for him because it felt good to win his approval. He praised you and you had preened under his intense blue eyes every time. You had forced yourself to keep everything professional.

All for nothing since you were in the farthest position of professional now.

When you finally hear him enter the room, your sit up straight again.

He tsks and says, “Head down, sweetheart.”

Andy comes around to stand in front of you. You see his perfectly polished shoes, the perfectly tailored trousers. His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. He runs his thumb over your lips, circling them.

“Open your mouth,” he says.

You do.

He leans closer, then spits in your mouth, and you blink in surprise, a surge of humiliation running through you, but his grip on your jaw is powerful, so you don’t move away.

“Close your mouth but don’t swallow.”

He moves back from you then, and he begins to silently undress. He had already taken off his jacket, but he doesn’t hurry as he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt, the buttons down his chest, and then shrugs it off his shoulders. He places it nicely on a plush armchair on the side of the room. Next he sits on the edge of the bed and removes his shoes and socks.

The way he doesn’t watch you but does all of this in your line of vision, knowing you have to watch, is another move meant to communicate who is in control of this situation. Still holding his saliva on your tongue is starting to become uncomfortable. Your instinct is to swallow, but you don’t know what disobedience may mean with Andy, so you fight the urge, not wanting to tempt any more of his darkness.

He stands and takes the shoes and socks to a large closet off to the side of the room, and when he returns, he stands directly in front of you again, takes your jaw in his hands again.

“Show me,” he says.

Your eyes watch his face you open your mouth, showing him the pool of saliva.

“Good fucking girl,” he murmurs. You hate the small bloom in your chest those words immediately invoke again. He spits into your mouth for a second time, then with a caress that is too tender he urges you to close your mouth. “Swallow.”

You do.

Andy unbuckles his belt, unbuttons the top of his fly, then unzips and pushes down the waist of his trousers with his briefs, and reveals his hard cock for you.

He’s big.

You had gotten yourself off to the thought of him a few of times late at night alone in your bed, most recently a few days ago, and you hated that you had since you were now here like this, forced on your knees in front of him.

Your core is pulsing with heat at the sight of him though – bigger than you had fantasized, and bigger than any man you’ve been with previously. You know he’ll fill you in a way that will ruin you for other men. You want and dread it.

“Take me in your mouth, sweetheart,” he commands.

Instead of forcing his cock into your mouth, this is more possessive, having you submit yourself to pleasing him of your own accord. You know every way he’s manipulating you.

“If I have to tell you one more time,” he trails off, leaving the end open for your imagination.

You plant one hand softly on his hip and wrap your other hand around his shaft, leaning forward to take him in your mouth. As you push forward, he groans. He won’t hold back when he’s pleased with you – he never has, he knows it affects you. His hands go to either side of your head. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, sucking him, bobbing up and down his length, and for a while he lets you control the speed and the depth, but his hands let you know he can and will control this when he wants to. After the first couple of minutes, he makes this clear when you push back to take a breath and wipe the mix of your spit and his pre-cum dripping out of your mouth and his hands firmly prevent you from moving off him. Instead, he pushes you down slowly – more slowly than you had been pumping – and doesn’t stop until your nose hits his lower abdomen. You try to push against his hips, and he pushes his hips forward with you still anchored on his dick. Your eyes well up.

“So pretty,” he says, “imagined you like this, but you’re more gorgeous than I thought you would be.”

Something in your chest melts. You wish he wouldn’t say things like that. It makes you weaker – weaker for him. He pulls back just an inch or two, then pushes his length into your throat again.

“That’s it, sweetheart, my perfect fucking girl.”

You whimper, and the tears spill over.

His right hand moves away from your face and around behind him. He’s quick, and when you can see his hand again, it’s to discover he’s taken his phone out of his back pocket. He takes photos of you, angling the phone a few different ways. Then he tosses the phone onto the chair where he’d laid his shirt.

Then he resumes his small, concentrated rutting, only easing out just enough to make the thrust back in worth it for him. As he does, he groans, swears, wipes tears from your cheeks, and the moment before it’s too much, he finally pulls you off him.

You fall forward, gasping for deep lungfuls of air, but he’s already putting a hand under your arm and hauling you up.

“Get on the bed,” he instructs, man handling you with surprising ease, doing most of the work your weak and aching legs can’t do to hoist you up onto his Alaskan king bed.

He’s immediately up as well and behind you, the last of his clothing stripped off. His fingers quickly undo the clasp of your bra and pull it off your shoulders and toss it away. He pushes you forward, toppling you down to the mattress. He slaps your ass, and you gasp and jerk. He brings his hand down on your round flesh again, with another sting, but the second one has you moan, and he lets out a satisfied, “Yes,” before giving you a third slap, the hardest, and you moan again, but this one more guttural, and you’d be mortified if you weren’t shocked over the way it translated to pleasure so quickly to your brain.

Then he yanks the lacy underwear roughly down and off your legs, tossing it away as well. He pushes between your legs behind you, splitting your legs open, and his fingers seek your cunt.

He hums in approval, “So wet for me. Ready for me.”

You huff and pant.

He leans over your back, pressing you down into the mattress. “Are you eager for me?”

“Andy,” you whine.

“Say it and I’ll fuck you good, sweetheart.”

You don’t want to. You bury your face in the covers.

He slaps your ass again, and you yelp.

“Admit you want me to fuck you.”

Another slap.

Another.

“Yes,” you finally concede.

“To breed you.”

You gasp, but he’s already hauling you further up the bed, and he drapes himself over your back, arms caging you in on either side of your body. His legs push yours apart as he leans down to press kisses over your shoulder blades, at the base of your neck, along your spine. He uses one hand to guide the thick head of his cock to your leaking entrance. He doesn’t care to stretch you. “Take me in your cunt, sweetheart, it’s mine.”

The only mercy is that he slots himself in slowly.

You press your hands up against the headboard and concentrate on taking deep breaths, on trying to relax your walls completely, because he’s entering you, in you, filling you, unrelenting invasion and it’s pleasure and pain and too much and not enough because every moment of more fullness is exquisite and you can’t even think about holding back the sound he’s pushing out from your diaphragm, up your throat, and out of your mouth, because that’s how it feels as he's filling you.

Once’s he’s fully inside of you, he presses his mouth right next to your ear. “I’m going to fill this pussy with my seed.” He anchors one hand on your hips, then begins pull out, only so he can start thrusting back in. “I want everyone to know who you belong to.”

You’ve never had an orgasm only from vaginal penetration, but the way he fills you as he fucks you, and at this angle, making you almost forget to keep breathing, you wonder if this is how you’ll go, strung out as his cock punishes you with the pleasure, but then his hand works around beneath you and his fingers quickly find your swollen and aching clit. You cry out, and one of your hands reaches back to cling to him, fingers clutching into his hair. He nips at your neck, chuckling darkly.

“My pretty girl, my good girl, taking my cock so well, you close?”

An immediate, “Uh huh,” is all you can manage.

“Then let go,” he commands, pinching your clit harshly.

You see stars, and you cry out for him.

Hearing you scream his name and feeling you clench around him is all he needs, and he pumps his cum into you, saying more dirty, filthy, possessive things, but you don’t know what the words are, because you’re completely lost to coherency.

He sinks his full weight on top of you when he’s completely spent.

Both of you are silent while you come down, heartrates returning to normal.

You wait for him to say whatever he’s going to torment you with next, but he doesn’t speak.

After more long moments, he finally pushes up enough to turn you from your front to your back. He cups your jaw again and strokes his thumb over your cheek. Your breath hitches at the intimate gesture in the aftermath.

“Aw, why are you crying now, sweetheart?”

No, you didn’t want more tears, and not these - the soft tears. You try to look away, but he forces your face back to look at him.

“I would have slept with you if you’d asked, Andy, why did you have to do it like this?”

“Because this is so much more than that, sweetheart. I didn’t want to just sleep with you, and I needed you to know from here on out that you’re mine. I own you. I’m very particular about what belongs to me. I didn’t want you to have any illusion that there’s a choice here.”

He brushes the tears off your cheek.

“I’ll have my men move your things here in the morning, and we’ll elope in a few weeks. I’m closing the deal on a resort in Lake Como, doesn’t that sound perfect? We’ll tie the knot and then spend our honeymoon there – we can stay all summer if you want.”

You hesitate.

“No one else is gonna take care of you like I do. Now I asked you, ‘doesn’t that sound perfect?’”

“Yes, Andy,” you whisper.

“Of course, it does.” He finally kisses you – and it’s dangerously soft. Warm lips engulfing yours, insistent, sucking your bottom lip between his. You whimper, and he licks his tongue into your mouth, lapping you up. He rolls over with you, putting him back on the mattress with you on his chest. He holds you pressed to him with one hand, the other hand securing your head so you can’t escape his kiss until he’s done kissing you.

It isn’t until you think you might pass out from how breathless you are that he finally breaks off the kiss. He shifts his pelvis up against you, his cock hardening again. “And I was serious about you carrying my child. But first you’ll ride my face until I’ve made you cry for a good reason, and then I’ll fill you up with more of my seed. You’re not leaving this bed the rest of the weekend.”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

ARE YOU OKAY? AM I? DO WE EVEN CARE IF WE'RE OKAY?

read: -> THE MORNING AFTER

#andy barber x female reader #andy barber smut #soft dark andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #tw: dubcon #aspen wrote something #navy and roo's sleepover #i'm your man collection

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queers-gambit · 6 months

Text

Aces

prompt: ( requested ) during a terrible storm, you're invited to stay at your boss' house. years of tip-toeing around one another comes to an end when emotions are finally laid on the table.

pairing: Tommy Shelby x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Peaky Blinders

word count: 3.5k+

warning: honestly, it's pretty tame. some cursing, kinda-sorta one bed, most def OC Tommy, fluff, author is def on the Grace Hating Train but it's mild.

With a grunt, you threw the file of paperwork from your hands across the empty room; scattering across the floor. You were agitated, grouchy, beyond exhausted, and yet, there was no use in trying to leave when the worst storm to ransack England was being unleashed from the seediest parts of hell.

All you wanted was to go to bed for about 16 hours, but as midnight ticked closer and closer, that dream was dwindling. You'd be lucky to get a few hours at this point since your job was demanding enough to warrant early mornings and late nights. But this night was later than ever before.

You often wondered if your employer's antics brought this hell-storm upon you all, but figured, God didn't care that much about Small Heath. He most certainly didn't care for the Devil running it.

"Woah!" A voice laughed when the file went flying. "Gott'an arm on yah, love! Nearly took me fuckin' eye out!"

"Ha-ha," you mocked John Shelby, your employer's younger brother. "What're you still doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same," he smirked, squatting so he was in front of you with an exaggerated pout. "Why're you still here, love? Tommy's still gotcha workin'?"

"No, it's my own vocation."

"Tommy don't pay overtime, sweetheart."

"No shit," your eyes rolled. "In case I'm the only one capable of seeing it, there's an outlandish storm outside that prevents me from getting home." You gestured around where you sat on the floor, surrounded by files and other paperwork, "So, what else was I gonna do to pass the time?"

"It's not that bad," he waved you off. "C'mon, I'm off t'the Garrison, come with me, love. We can drink 'til the storm passes, huh?"

"John, seriously, I'm warning you," you deadpanned, watching him adjust his flatcap.

"C'mon, sweet cheeks, we can endure it," he laughed, opening the door and literally being shoved back by the force of the wind. You didn't make a sound, just reaching to hold down the papers around you as he grunted and groaned, trying to shut the flailing door; only able to once he threw his entire weight into it.

"Told you," you mused, his face and coat dripping wet from the short time the door was open.

"So, you're staying here, then?" He asked, panting, trying to play off the entire ordeal.

"I figured I'd get some more work done, it's not like Tommy gives any days off," you shrugged.

"He'd give you whatever you asked for," John smirked, taking his coat off.

"No, he needs me to do shit on the daily, there aren't days off, John Boy," you rolled your eyes playfully. "But I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to work for you idiots."

"Hey," he pouted.

"Oh, honey, if it helps any, you're my favorite idiot!"

"Good," he pointed at you with a small laugh. "But seriously, love, if you need the day off, Tommy would do it."

"No, there's so much to do here," you frowned. "We're on track to reopen in a few weeks, and if I take a day off, we'll fall behind, and you know Tommy doesn't do delays."

The gambling den the Shelby's operated was getting a make over now that The Shelby Company Limited was soon to be up and running. Hence why you were there in an empty room with only files around you and a dimly lit lap, you were trying to get shit organized before furniture could be moved back in.

You would have to restock Polly's office, Tommy's, Arthur's, and John's - all of who were Company members and would need their space to work. Not to mention the completely different office Tommy was currently eyeing to use as his base of operation, something you, as his personal assistant, was expected to help with every step of the way. Honestly, it was a miracle Tommy was ever able to get shit done before you - an organizational Goddess.

"Well," John sighed, looking around for a moment before shrugging and placing his hands on his hips, "want some help?"

You chuckled, "No, it's all right, John, you go on. Surely the lads will be home soon - "

Speak of the Devil! And He will appear!

The door burst open, sending your files every which way from the gust of wind; several bodies shoving their way inside before the lone, single body of Tommy Shelby stalked in last. He shut the door without issue, being a force of nature himself; a professionally observant, silent, lone menace that commanded the attention of any room he walked into. People on the street parted for him like the Red Sea, flocked to the darkened parts of the streets just to get a glimpse of the gangster in motion.

For as long as you can remember, you've harbored overwhelming affection for your boss, but never once vocalized it out of sheer fear of rejection.

He was Thomas Shelby. He was an enigma; a mysterious, stoic man that instilled a sense of fear and respect from those around him. You included, but yet never dare let your admiration for your employer be known in public. You loved him from a distance; admiring him and feeling yourself fall further into your unrequited love due to the intimate proximity you shared. He's always treated you as exactly what you were - a valuable member of the Company and his personal assistant. You worked intimately together on a daily basis, and each night you went home, you would scream into a pillow out of sheer frustration.

Being his personal assistant meant you were constantly in close proximity, and no matter how hard you tried to fight your feelings, it was impossible. He was Thomas bloody Shelby - insanely suave, charismatic, a deep nut to crack, but once he opened up, he was insanely loyal, caring, even decently amusing. He was all you wanted, but never felt secure enough to admit your feelings for him.

You were greeted happily by the men, all piling into the Shelby home to take refuge from the storm. You were left to silently rock to your feet and start gathering the papers that had gone flying in their entrance, glancing up when a hand offered help in rounding up your supplies. "Thank you, Mr. Shelby, but I got it," you insisted quietly, accepting the pages he handed you.

Tommy always had a soft spot for you.

He was silent for a moment, then asked, "What're you still doin' here?"

"Storm makes it impossible to get home," you shrugged. "I was waiting until it lessened, but it doesn't seem to," you glanced out the window, still shuffling files and papers together.

"You've worked all day," he sighed, "c'mon."

"Uh... Where?"

"Think you've earned a drink," he eased, already striding out of the room. You quickly finished gathering your papers, stacking them all together, but was pleasantly shocked when Tommy returned to the empty room with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

"Mr. Shelby, don't - "

But he was already sat on the ground, back against a wall, watching you with amusement. "Think a man's too good to sit on the floor?" He asked, uncorking the bottle.

"When their suit is so expensive that I have to take it to a specific cleaners, perhaps, then yes," you answered truthfully.

"I've money to spare, I can send this suit to be cleaned by another errand boy, you won't have to any longer," he poured two glasses of whiskey, "but tonight's company is too good to pass up."

You laughed, "Oh, no, what did you do?"

"Hmm?"

"You're kissing my arse a little, what've you done? What mess do I have to clean tomorrow?"

He smirked as you finally sat beside him, a bit stiffly, but accepted the drink he served. "Nothing, love, this storm's put a halt on everything," he gestured to the window, unaware that your heart stalled in your chest when you heard him call you 'love'. "What is it you were working on?" He asked, fingering the few files stacked between you. "Ah," he mused, reading the titles of the packets, "trying to get a jump on tomorrow, huh?"

"Not very much else to do," you shrugged. "I... I got a little frustrated. I think I'll need Polly to go over a few things with me."

"I'm sure you've got it," he spoke quietly. "I wouldn't have hired you if incapable."

You nodded, "Right, of course, sir."

Mr. Shelby offered you a look, taking a swig of whiskey. "You know, after hours, you don't have to be so professional."

"You didn't hire me to be unprofessional, though."

"No, I didn't, but this isn't a work meeting," he offered his glass. "We can still be friendly, can we not?"

You clinked his glass with yours, "Sure, of course we can..." How the hell could you be 'friendly' to the man you've pined after for the past two years? "So, I heard Grace skipped town," you started, instantly wincing when you realized what you said. "I-I'm so sorry, Mr. Shelby, I didn't mean to - "

But he chuckled, "You heard correct." He waited a long moment, then offered, "She's gone - for good."

You tested the waters, "Is... That a good thing?"

"It is."

"I thought you liked the barmaid?"

"I thought I did, too, but I've been wrong before."

"I doubt that."

"No, truly," he smirked, "I've made my fair share of mistakes."

"That you'd be willing to admit to?"

"Well, that's a different story," he mused, downing the last of his glass. "C'mon," he decided, sitting up, "the others are in the den, if you'd like to join?"

"Oh, no, I don't wish to intrude."

"Where were you going to sleep, then? If this storm doesn't die off in the next hour?" You gestured to where your coat and belongings were bunched up beside you, shrugging lightly. "No, absolutely not," he glared when he took in your makeshift bed, "you're coming in, you'll stay the night here."

"No, you lot are having family time - "

"And why do you assume you aren't family yet?" He asked sharply, making you reel back a little. "Three years, you've worked with my family, a portion of that before any of us came home. C'mon, love, you're more family than others wish to pretend to be."

"You mean that?" You worried softly.

He offered a look of mild offense, "I don't speak to hear the sound of my own voice. I would not say it if I did not mean it."

The whiskey in your system encouraged you to offer a sharp look, snipping, "It would not kill you to just say, 'Yes, I mean it.'"

Tommy smirked lightly, nodding, "Yes, I mean it. Come, you'll stay here tonight."

You couldn't fight off the smile even if you tried. With your coat and purse in one hand, Tommy took the other to help you off the floor. Like a gentleman, he took your belongings before leading you further into the Shelby home; leaving the empty gambling den to find the others all stuffed around a table with a card game loudly being played; fireplace stoked to life.

Polly greeted you happily, not knowing you were still here. Tommy set your things to the side as Arthur wrangled you into the seat beside him - insisting you had to be on his team! A quick sniff of his tea mug assured he was waist deep in the whiskey.

"Okay! New player at the table!" John announced, yanking all the cards back to hand over to Polly. They were all smoking, minus you and Finn. "You all know the rules - hey, hey, hey, no! Tommy's not on her team!" He pointed at you and his brother, who had sat beside you to sandwich you between Shelby's.

"Why not?" Tom asked, accepting the tea from Polly as Finn handed you your own.

"Thank you, little love," you whispered, pecking his cheek as he giggled.

"Becuase you two can communicate without words - it's fucking weird!" John insisted. "All right! Polly, you're with Tommy - the fucker likes to cheat."

"Being better than you isn't cheating, John Boy."

"Is when there's money on the line!" John laughed, Arthur leaning over to explain to you the game. He was actually a very good teacher, and even for a few rounds, you weren't a "viable player" just to let you watch and get the gist of things.

However, when you joined the game, it was far more intense than you had given credit for. But the Shelby's were competitive lads, Polly just happy to laugh and remind the boys of the rules; letting them dominate the table as you were content to just watch, laugh, and sip your tea. After a few rounds, Finn came over and hopped up on your lap, declaring you two a team now, and believe it or not, you won the next three hands!

"CHEATERS! AYE!?" John yelled, laughing right after as a boom of thunder rattled the home.

"No, call that beginners luck!" Arthur tried to defend, Tommy lighting a new cigarette.

"Or maybe John's just not accustomed to losing?" You grinned. "Especially from a lady?"

"I lost to a lady? Where? Where is she?" John looked around comically, earning a swift kick under the table that rattled the tea cups.

"All right, all right, next hand, we play for money, come on, come on, bets in the center," Polly instructed. "Finn, don't," she warned and you reached up to push the lad's hand down as he was ready to toss in a few pounds.

"Here, I'll cover us," you told the little lad, both grinning when you offered money to the center. Unknown to you, Tommy was keeping mental track of however much you were betting - intent to pay you back. Yet he didn't say anything, content to watch you and Finn have fun together.

Arthur and John were the most vocal of the group, arguing about scores and tallies and who won which round. You chuckled as Finn leaned into your chest, everyone waiting for the two to finish arguing; Polly looking over with a broad smirk before dropping her gaze. Tommy had seemingly naturally moved closer to you, one arm extended behind your chair to keep you close to his warmth.

Neither seemed to notice.

Not even when you would turn to crack a joke directly in Tommy's ear, his lips spreading in an easy smile that made Polly fight off her own grin. Grace was something special to Tommy, sure, this was true, but after the time together, she could tell that the two of you had become something more - without even verbalizing it.

Never realizing.

Hours passed, the storm still raged, two cartons of cigarettes was smoked between the lot of them, and there was no clear winner in sight. Finn had fully deflated into your embrace, asleep despite the loud thunder and blinding flashes of lightning. Your head had lulled onto Tommy's shoulder, sleep clawing at your eyelids as you listened to a drunken John and Arthur still argue about the card game. Polly eventually called it quits and bid everyone a goodnight, smiling softly when she noted the cozy seating between you and Tommy.

The longer you sat there, you more exhausted you became.

"C'mon, love," Tommy whispered softly, rousing you from your half-sleep, "let's get you to bed. C'mon, up you get," he smirked, aiding you from your chair as you kept a firm hold on his little brother. "We'll see you lot in the morning," he told his brothers.

"Night," John and Arthur waved, still deep into their argument, but smirking to one another when Tommy lead you up the stairs. When you were gone from sight, John leaned in and asked his eldest brother, "Think Tommy'll make a move tonight?"

Arthur glanced up the stairs, musing, "If he doesn't, he might be stupider then we thought."

John agreed.

Upstairs, Tommy opened the bedroom door and let you lay Finn softly on his bed, pausing to tug his shoes off and cover him with his blanket; moving his stuffed teddy bear closer and watching his sleeping hand naturally curl around it. You snuck out of the door, Tommy shutting the door, and tangled your hand with his.

Silently, he lead you to his bedroom.

It was small, ridiculously small, but it was enough for his single person. Tommy shut the door after you, moving around, muttering, "You can sleep in this," as he handed you one of his shirts, "and I'll be in the drawing room if you need me - "

"Tommy, I'm not kicking you out of your room," you sighed. "I can sleep on the sofa for the night, it's not - "

"I'm not letting you do that," he refused sharply.

"Then we seem to be at an impasse," you decided with perked brows. "Either we're both sleeping on the sofa or we both crash your bed. You choose."

He chuckled dryly, "And here I thought the whiskey would make you less stubborn."

"Wishful thinking."

He nodded, letting you have the room to change and get under the covers. It was decently cold in his room, more so without pants; the storm doing nothing to remedy that, and when Tommy returned, everything felt different.

A good different, but still different.

Neither of you made eye contact, him joining you in the absurdly small bed after blowing the candles out. You settled on your side, facing the wall, and after a few moments of adjusting, Tommy was settling down - but hesitating to deflate in comfort.

"Is it all right if I, uh... If I...?"

"Yeah, 's all right, Tommy," you whispered, reaching for the hand that hovered over your waist and pulling it so he was curled around you. It was all he needed to readjust, sigh to himself, and deflate against your back. You shivered slightly when his warm breath fanned over your neck and shoulder; his hand splaying over your belly and rubbing his thumb mindlessly. "Thank you for letting me stay the night," you whispered.

"Wasn't gonna send you home in this weather," he answered, voice vibrating the shell of your ear. "Besides," he whispered in a sigh, "this is where I wanted you, and where I wanted to be."

You chuckled, "Oh, yeah? So cold in here you need a warm body in bed with you?"

"No," he whispered, "but I've been in love with you for months now that I didn't want you far from me. Doesn't feel right, seeing you go home without me - everyday. I was overjoyed to come back and see you still here."

"What?" He didn't let you turn around, just kept you both there; locked in your spoon. "Tommy, what're you saying?"

He took a sobering breath, "That this is what I want, this is where I want us to be."

"That's the whiskey talking."

"No, love, it's you," his lips danced across your ear, making you shiver. "It's always been you, but I wasn't in my right mind to do anything about it."

"And now you are?"

"I might be, I couldn't go another minute with you thinking I don't want you - that I don't value you in my life. The fact that you were ready to sleep downstairs hurt me more than I'm willing to admit," he sighed, "and I knew, I needed to confess a few things so you know, you're welcome in this family. You won't ever sleep downstairs, love, you're meant to be here... With me... If you want to be."

You had to slap his hand to get him to loosen his grip and let you turn around to face him; but his hand remained on your, moving up to grip your ribs. In a whisper, you asked, "You're being honest? Genuine?"

"I can't lie to you, you can always tell. So, am I lying?"

"I don't think so," you whispered with skepticism, eyes narrowed. Neither of your voices rose above a whisper, "Why say any of this, Tommy?"

"Because the idea of going another day without at least trying to tell you how I feel was beginning to feel suffocating."

"What about Grace?"

"It's taken me a bit, but I know now that I was infatuated with her simply because I had already decided you were out of my league."

"Do you hear yourself?" You grinned, caressing his cheek. "You're everything I've wished for, Tommy, but know I can't have. You're the one in a league of your own, I'm the one unable to touch you."

His head shook, "You're all I've wanted and more. I wasn't sure you'd think it appropriate - my affection for you - given you work for me."

"The same reason I feared voicing my affection for you, too."

"Now that it's in the open," he whispered, "how do you want to proceed?"

"We can figure logistics out later," you smiled, tracing your fingertips over his face, "but for now, I just want to enjoy this. I never thought you'd look at me the same way, and now that you do, I don't want to look away."

"You won't have to," he whispered. "I'm in this for us, my sweet, if you are."

"Nowhere I'd rather be," you whispered, cuddled close, and simply breathing the same air. For a single moment, Tommy felt unparalleled peace; the shovels quiet, heart content, and body warm.

requesting rules and masterlist

Peaky Blinders masterlist

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby drabble #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x f!reader #tommy shelby x fem!reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinders #peaky blinders tommy #tommy peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders x y/n #tommy shelby one shot

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fangswbenefits · 4 months

Text

getting this off my chest

I really, really love writing for this fandom.

I think I haven't felt like this in years.

Astarion is such an enticing vessel for my creativity and has rekindled my joy for writing and putting it out there.

Alas, imposter syndrome really gnaws at my nerves more often than I care to admit.

"But Ruby, you have so many people who like your work. Why do you doubt yourself?"

Because I grew up being told I was never enough. That I was the worst at what I did best, which back then was learning English and surrounding myself in the language, hence why I sought comfort in fanfiction.

My sister, whom I love dearly, is an English teacher. She would be so harsh on me, and I know she meant well. She really did. But it was so hard back then. I would come to her with creative writing in English and she would just roll her eyes and tell me I wasn't good enough.

Nowadays, she acknowledges that I am more proficient than her and more at ease with the language, and even tells my nephew to study English with me instead.

But back then, I needed someone to believe I could do better.

So, there is a part of me that is proud that I am able to deal with real-life fatigue by writing and finding enjoyment in this hobby. But a much darker part of me tells me I'm not worthy and that I simply got lucky.

The Arrangement means a lot to me. I tend to dive right into fandoms and start writing for the character that caught my eye.

But I couldn't do that for Astarion... I am still unsure why. For those of you who have been here from my Miguel O'Hara days or when I first started posting about Astarion, you'll know The Arrangement was the first thing I ever posted for him.

Took me 2 weeks to get the first chapter out because I kept thinking I couldn't find a voice for Astarion. One that felt like him. After all, I'm always a step behind because I am not a native speaker. There will always be that looming feeling that I can't convey this story properly.

Even if you now know me for my Astarion smut, that wasn't even the driving force of my love for him.

It took me 2 months to feel comfortable writing smut for him. Why? I don't even know.

But The Arrangement feels different.

I love writing it and I love taking my liberties with the plot.

It's my opportunity to fully showcase my love for him.

I know not everyone likes it. I know some of you have dropped it. Some of you will drop it. But some will walk along this path with me, and I can't stress enough how your feedback and love help keep these negative thoughts at bay.

It's an internal work, though. It is not your job to validate my writing skills. This is not what puts food on my table. I am not looking to be published. I am looking for an escape. And it's so frustrating when my mind tries to rob me of joy even when it comes to a hobby.

"If this is a hobby why does it matter what others think or if they like what you write? Just have fun. Write for yourself."

And I do write for myself, but I share my work because I am hopeful my words can make someone's day. I seek that connection I never had growing up. Perhaps it sounds silly, but it's what makes the most sense in my head.

The Arrangement should be my pride and joy even if not perfect (nothing ever is, I suppose). And I'm exhausted of not feeling proud of it. I'm tired of this vicious cycle of self-doubt.

Don't get me wrong. I love writing smut. I think that's what I'm best at (well, in my opinion). I love exploring Astarion this way, too, but...

I don't know where I'm going with this... if anyone has made it this far, thank you, and sorry for the word vomit...

#ruby rambles ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

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melloween-candie · 9 months

Text

A Real Nightmare [P.P]

Prompts: Yandere/Monster 5 & 17

Requested // Request Rules // Prompt list

"Can you do something with Yandere Peter Pan (ouat of course ) with the prompts 5 and 17. Maybe with a fem or gn reader. And if you can make reader more into the sweet part would be amazing. Love how you write 💕💕💕💕💕✨✨✨✨✨💕💕💕💕💕"

Replied

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Prompt: Yandere/Monster

5: "This is your home now." 17: "You'll either sleep with me, or you don't sleep at all!"

Warning! Animal abuse, manipulation, threatening, bloodthirsty

Word Count: 1,683

Once Upon A Time Masterlist

Fandom Masterlists

/"Talking"//Thinking//Muttering-Whispering/

***Narrator's Pov***

"Come out, Y/n... You can't stay in there forever~" Peter pressed his head against the door. "Come on!..." He took a split second to calm his voice down. "Look Y/n... I'm trying here. That means you should, too!"

It has been years since you last stepped foot outside of Neverland.

"BUT IT'S JUST A BABY!" You cried out.

Peter rolled his eyes. "It's just target practice." He said that like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He never understood why your heart would leak every time you two practiced. "What's the difference?"

Your heart yelped out of your chest. "Maybe it's the fact that it's still young!"

It's true... You were a softy. You were always a softy. No matter how many times Peter tried killing that out of you- he always failed. Even when you stood back... watching all those critters die was just too much, and you just couldn't take it anymore.

"They're all young! I swear to you- If. You. Don't-" Felix grabbed Peter's shoulder, giving him the 'calm-down' look.

Peter stepped back with a huff and a growl. He really does try for you... He did everything... Murdered, Kidnapped, Tortured, and now he's trying the 'good guy' way. After all, the good guy wins every time, right?

Now when I say kidnap- I mean he kidnaps those who were close to you. Either using them as blackmail or something else. However, Peter never felt the need to hide you from anyone. He didn't see the point in doing so since he never felt inferior to anyone here on his island. Of course, there were boundaries... boundaries that people should never cross. Luckily Peter trusted Felix.

Felix asked you to open the door, and knowing him quite well, you did.

You always trusted Felix more than you did Pan. That irritated Peter, but he wanted you to love him the way he loves you. And he was told that the only way to earn your love was to build it- through healthy bonding moments...

Felix walked into the room, closing the door behind him, pissing Peter off. "Y/n, you really need to stop doing this." He kneeled down towards you. You were cradling an injured bunny.

"I can't... I can't k-eep doing this." You hiccupped. Tears continued falling down your face as Felix spoke- "Look, Y/n, they're going to die no matter what. No animal can survive long enough to become an adult here in Neverland. You should know that by now."

"Then why don't we stop! Let them grow-"

"Y/n, please. I know you care- but Peter is this close to losing his patience with you!" He squeezed his fingers together tightly. "Seriously, Y/n... You wouldn't want to go back to the way things were before, do you?"

In truth, the only reason why Peter changed to begin with was because of Henry's heart... or at least that's what you and everyone else thinks.

"B-but look at it!" You moved your arms a bit to show him the state of the bunny. It was somewhat small, and its white fur was now matted with dried blood. It wasn't moving...

"Y/n," Felix placed his hand on your forearm. "It's dead."

That broke your heart... You knew it, but you didn't want to believe it.

"I don't want to live here... not like this." You muttered. Your eyes showed nothing but emptiness now as your arms went limp.

You always thought that Neverland was a dream come true. That it was a heavenly place filled with kind creatures. Sadly, you were utterly wrong. The prince you thought Peter was- was actually a demon in disguise.

"This is your home now- Learn to adjust to it." He spat plainly. Then he got up and left.

"Finally!" Peter spat. Felix only looked at him. There was a redness in Peter's eyes. Felix knew that whatever Henry's heart left in him was slowly fading away.

Time Skip!~

It was the middle of the night. You were in bed with Peter as you always were. You mainly slept with him in fear that he might hurt the people you love if you didn't oblige to his demands.

However, that night you couldn't sleep a wink. You were too caught up thinking about all the animals that died in this 'supposed sanctuary.'

But it wasn't just that... Even though Peter became more lenient, he never actually changed. Sure, he wasn't torturing you or murdering other lost boys for touching you... but he still hasn't changed his ways when it comes to running Neverland.

He'd kill any animal he saw move with the excuse of 'target practice.' And if you were to push it further, he'd threaten you by saying- "Would you rather it be a human?!"

Now, you were a kind soul... You always believed in second chances. You believed that Peter would change for the better someday, and somehow, it would happen. Though, you couldn't help but wonder if that was just wishful thinking.

Then suddenly you heard a noise. Something was rustling outside Pan's tent. Then- it knocked. It was a quiet and subtle knock. As if it knew not to wake Peter up.

You slowly crept your way to the door. You slightly opened it as quietly as possible. You didn't want Peter to wake up and see you out of bed.

You took a peek outside to see what it was... Nothing- until you looked down. It was a lost boy. His name was Teddy. (Made up - Not canon)

His eyes were watery. Clearly, he just finished crying. "Please Y/n... I can't sleep." He whispered.

Now, Teddy was only three. So, you understood why he came to you. Most of the younger kids would come to you about these kinds of things. Not only was it that you were the only female there, but you acted so much like a mother that they actually thought you were their real mom. It was silly but you didn't mind.

"What's wrong, Teddy?" You said in a whisper, kneeling down so you could speak to him eye to eye.

"I-I had-" He took a breath, rubbing his eye as he continued on- "A nightmare."

"Ow... Poor thing." You placed your palm on his head and gave him a kiss on the forehead. "I'm sorry to hear that, kiddo..." You didn't really know what to do... If you let him sleep with you in Peter's bed, Peter would get so angry to find another person with you... It didn't matter if that person was three. But if you left to sleep with this child... that would just be worse- "Pleaseeee!" A plea broke your train of thought.

You looked down to see the little boy begging you. "Please. Please sleep with me... I-I don't want to be alone..." If any older kid said that... it would have just been wrong to you, but this- this was sadly cute. After all, he did give you the puppy eyes and everything. So, you couldn't say no.

You were always bad at saying no... especially when the little ones gave you the 'look.'

Small Time Skip!~

You made it in the little boy's tent without waking anyone up. It was kind of a surprise to you to see how much of a deep sleeper Pan was. But when you finally got into bed with the toddler, a shadow invaded the room. It startled you and the sleepy boy right next to you.

You quickly sat back up as the little boy rubbed his eyes. You squinted yours- "P-Pan!?" You said in realization. Your heart started racing... By the look on Pan's face- you knew this wasn't going to be good.

"Look. Before you get made- I can explain." You tried to calm him down, but the red tint in his eyes only seemed to glow brighter.

"Explain what exactly? Explain the fact that this kid is too scared to sleep by himself?" He spat. "I saw everything, Y/n- I heard you."

You gulped. You knew Peter was about to throw yet another fit. "L-look, I'm sorry, but since you heard everything- you understand. Don't you?" You looked at him with hopeful eyes. "He's only three..."

"The only thing I'm questioning is why... why are you choosing to sleep with a brat when you can sleep with me?" He muttered. He looked at you dead in the eyes.

"He had a nightmare!" You said it as if it was plain obvious.

"Nightmares... Reality is scarier than nightmares." Peter moved closer towards you two. "You know why? Because it's real." He said that all without even blinking.

He then looked at you- "So. What will it be, Y/n? A nightmare or reality?" He said it in a threatening way... but what made your heart beat faster was his tone. He was so calm, and his focus was set dead on you.

"W-what?" You stuttered. It was clear that you were now completely uncomfortable. It was because of how calm he was acting... it wasn't normal.

He then looked down, breaking eye contact with you. He took a moment of silence. Then he slowly looked back up, but not at you this time... this time, he looked at the little kid who was clearly frightened.

Then he looked at you. "You'll either sleep with me, or you don't sleep at all."

Your eyes grew with fear. Tons of shivers just went through your body as you looked at Pan in the eyes.

Those red eyes now meeting yours. His eyes were now fully shining a deep red hue. It wasn't shining like it was noticeable... it was subtle, but it was clear that it was taking over him. It shined like the glow of a heart... but it had that aura to it... the kind most people would avoid. The kind that you can only describe as bloodthirst.

Peter then finally spoke. "The only thing that boy should be afraid of is getting in-between you and me."

#once upon a time #ouat peter pan #once upon a time peter pan #ouat peter pan x reader #peter pan x reader #fear #thriller #once upon a time fandom #once upon a time fanfiction #yandere peter pan #nightmares #kind reader #prompt list

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the-power-of-a-pen · 10 months

Text

A Way Home

Fandom: Spiderverse

Summary: Following the loss of his alternate universe daughter, Miguel is reluctant to risk letting anyone close to him and breaking canon again. However, as most anomalies are returned to their universes, there's the issue of you. You don't have a universe to return to. So, after having you on his team for half a year, he adopts you as his child.

Word Count: 4654

Pairing?: Father-child relationship btwn Miguel and gn! reader.

Trigger Warnings: Some cursing, reader is hinted to having a traumatic past (very briefly and vaguely described), 1 reference to reader as "Spiderman" (meant as a gender-neutral phrase)

A/n: This turned out to be longer than I had planned b/c I realized how much I had to add to make the change of heart even slightly natural, so let me know if y'all want a part two of the reader and Miguel interacting further along the adoption. Not sure how I feel about the structure + characterization in this one. Feedback much appreciated! Please!! I'm on my hands and knees, begging for feedback!!!

------

"Lyla, status on current anomalies," Miguel ordered. He leaned over the yellow panels in front of him, watching the same scene of him and his child playing over and over again. His grip on the console tightened.

She blipped into view. "Currently, there are 918,503,201 anomalies to be returned to their home universes. That's 40% less than yesterday! Spider-Byte does have an update for you regarding-"

"I'll convene with her later. I'm busy."

"Busy brooding over your twelfth cup of coffee. Not enough sugar this time around?" Lyla teased, only to be met with a glare. "Alright, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. But seriously, it can't wait. A canon event was disrupted and now there's a spider-person without a universe to return to."

Miguel turned around dangerously fast. "What did you just say?"

"Talk to Margo -- she'll fill you in." Lyla blipped away.

------

"There you are," Margo mumbled to herself as Miguel approached. "This one's in rough shape, got dropped in Earth 616 and put up a fierce fight before Jessica took them to HQ. I tried to send them through the Go Home Machine, but it just dropped them back here."

"And you're sure it's not a hardware issue?"

"It's 2099," Margo drolled and rolled her eyes. "There's no hardware issues anymore, grandpa."

"Then try sending them home again. I don't see why this requires my supervision."

"This machine tears people's atoms apart and throws them back together in other dimensions," she explained. "If I run the same person through the machine too many times, they could die."

Miguel sighed heavily and began pacing around. "Well, what am I supposed to do? Keep them here forever?"

Margo looked at him like he was crazy and slowly nodded. "You can't leave them here to die."

"They're an anomaly anywhere they go, Spider-Byte. Maybe death would be a mercy."

"To you," Peter B. called from behind him.

"Maldito sea, carajo" Miguel cursed under his breath, turning around. "I thought you were taking the week off."

"Well, I was going to, but Mayday was begging me for another one of these cafeteria burgers," he said with his mouth full of food. "They're really good, you should seriously try them sometime."

Miguel's eyes darted to Mayday and quickly darted away. "I have work to return to in my office, so if you'll excuse me-"

Peter stepped in his way. "I'm sorry, Miguel, but I can't let you walk away from this problem. It's gone too far."

"I'm sorry, what?" Miguel questioned, laughing bitterly.

"Ok, I'm not great with words, especially not in front of big, strong, angry men, so MJ had me prewrite this, let me just get it- oh, Mayday has it. Mayday, hold the paper up for daddy, thanks, sweetheart."

Peter cleared his throat and began to over-annunciate his speech. "Everyone in this building joined your society because they believed in your ability to lead, shape, and change the world. We trusted you to use humane practices behind your actions and to keep the safety and rights of humanity at mind before all else. However, given the fact- Ok, this is bullshit - sorry, Mayday, don't tell mommy. Point is, Miguel, that you claim that you're all about saving the multiverse and saving humanity, but then you throw half of your sanity away to hunt down a 15 year old kid who just wants to save his dad. You're so obsessed with the concept of saving humanity that you forgot what it's like to care about individual humans. You forgot how to be a human."

"I never forgot what it felt like to care. To love."

"It's okay to admit that the new kid reminds you of your daughter, you know."

For a moment, Miguel and Peter B. just stood across from each other in silence, unable to break eye contact. Miguel's expression was intense, but otherwise unreadable. Then: "Go home, Parker. More and more of you prove that you're untrustworthy when it comes to prioritizing the greater good. I'm not afraid to get rid of you, too."

Peter's arms gripped on tighter to Mayday. He seemed to want to say something, but found it in him to walk away. Once he went through his portal back home, Miguel called for Lyla.

"Hold the chatter, Lyla," he said before she could open her mouth, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Silence any notifications except for the urgent ones. And I mean urgent."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," she remarked sarcastically, but complied.

------

Everything in Miguel's office repeated like a broken record. The video of his daughter. Peter's comment that he "forgot what it's like to care about humans, forgot how to be human." Gwen's "we're supposed to be the good guys." The feeling of his own child glitching out of existence in his palms, the very reason he got into this work. The ticking of the clock. The ticking of that motherfucking clock.

He zipped a web to the clock and smashed it into the ground, falling to a knee amidst the broken glass.

"I understand that you're having a very emo moment right now, Mr. O'Hara," Pavitr began, "But Jessica told me to drop this off." He placed the file on the floor and nudged it over with his foot as far as he could without getting too close. "I'm heading home now, have a great day!"

"Wait."

"Oh, I was afraid you would say that."

"Tell Jessica to report to my office."

"She said to tell you that she's not available until noon tomorrow."

"Of course," he chuckled angrily. "One person's off for the week, another needs 3 weeks of recovery. Now one of my only trustworthy members can't report for duty until tomorrow. But who's checking in on me, huh? That's right - no one. I took on this leadership role because I know firsthand what it feels like to have the only joy in your life, your only reason for living, taken away from you because of your own reckless mistakes. And despite all of that, I made it my life's mission to make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else. But now I'm the villain?! "'We're supposed to be the good guys!'" "'You can't leave them to die!'" "'They remind you of your daughter.'" But does anyone else here know the pain of losing a child you weren't even destined to have?"

Pavitr blinked heavily. "With all due respect, sir, I'm 17."

Miguel barely seemed to hear him. He sank to the floor, running his hands through his hair and not bothering to clear the glass shards around him. "Maybe they're all right. Maybe I'm the one hurting everyone else. Maybe I'll make the same mistake I did before, and take another innocent life because I want to feel fulfilled, just for a moment."

"Should I get someone?"

Miguel sighed. "Just go."

------

“Morning, sunshine,” Jessica called, taking a seat in Miguel’s office. “You had a chance to go through the file?”

Miguel hummed in agreement. “Need a second opinion.”

Jessica flipped through her copy of your file. “Teenager, been Spiderman for 2 years, originally from Earth 45, but got dropped in Ben’s world. A slippery one for sure; took nearly two hours to get them on the ground. Tried talking to them, but they wouldn't speak. I know my stance on this, but what’s yours?”

Miguel paced around the room. “We can’t keep them here. They’re an anomaly regardless of where they go. Margo said that it would be too inhumane to send them through the Go Home Machine again, so… I think we should let them go quietly.”

“Are you serious?”

“When am I not serious?” He took a seat across from Jessica. “I’ve been hearing it from everyone else. I need to hear it from someone who was there from the beginning. Someone who I trust. Am I falling off the edge? Have I gone too far?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re just now questioning that? Look, as your friend, I’ll say this: you’re taking too much weight onto your shoulders. You need to stop being Spiderman for a moment and start being Miguel.” She shifted in her seat. “But, as your teammate, I want you to know that I’ll be by your side no matter what you choose.”

Miguel nodded, but he was totally spaced out. All he could think about was his daughter. How he wanted to take this one in so bad, just to feel like a father again, feel like a man again. How he feared the consequences of love.

Jessica snapped in front of his face. “Earth to Miguel.”

He shook his head. “What?”

“Look, I can’t say that I don’t agree with your initial idea. But I look at them, and at Gwen, and at my future kid, and-” She put her hand on her stomach “-I just can’t imagine leaving them in the dust like that. I was wrong about Gwen, yes, but these kids are suffering. And I don’t know if we can keep making these hard decisions that put these people right back where they were trying to escape from and still call ourselves heroes.”

Miguel held his face in his hands. “I don’t know what’s up and down anymore, right or wrong. I was all of these kids once: Miles, Gwen, Hobie. I know what it’s like to love your family so much that you throw everything else to the wayside. But that cost me my child, and thousands of other lives. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do anything to stop it. I just want to stop the suffering. I just want it to stop.”

Jessica gave him a moment. “Let’s meet the kid. Give them a trial before we make any decisions we can’t take back.”

“Alright,” he agreed, “But if you’re wrong about this-”

“Then lunch is on me. Come on, mafioso.”

------

“Here they are,” Margo announced. “Just so you know, they’re fully aware of their situation, but not very talkative.”

“Let me talk to them,” Miguel insisted. “I want to hear what they have to say.”

As Miguel and Jessica approached, you refused to meet their eyes. Instead, you drew your hood closer to your face.

Miguel took a knee by you, talking through the red barrier. “Hey, kid. My name is Miguel. Miguel O’Hara. I’m Spiderman.”

You gasped dramatically. “No way! Really? I never would have guessed!”

He took in a breath. “So you do speak. Look, we’re trying to relocate you, but we need to have your account of what happened. Why doesn’t your home exist anymore?”

You shrugged and counted off the events on your fingers. “Dalmatian-looking dude crashed through a window at my internship. He went straight for the collider room, and most of my mentors were at lunch, so I went after him. I tried to shut off the collider at the same time he stepped through it, he pushed me into a hole, that lady behind you caught me after an uncomfortably long chase, and here we are.”

“You worked at Alchemax,” Miguel mumbled, though mostly to himself.

“Yeah,” you replied, leaning back. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Did you get bitten by the radioactive spider before or after working there?”

“Did I fucking what?”

“That’s how you got your powers, right?” He asked.

“My powers? Oh, I see what’s happening here,” you laughed. “You’re all off your rockers! Let me guess, this is some alternate dimension Alchemax where everyone’s trying to biologically get the abilities that I developed through technology. Ooh ooh, or, this is an elite spider society trying to save the multiverse from itself!”

“That was really just a guess?” questioned Jessica.

“I read a lot of sci-fi,” you explained.

“Nevermind all of that,” Miguel groaned. “What’s your story, kid? What’s your motive? Because if we don’t have that information, we can’t help get you out of there.”

Your expression became grave for a moment as you considered your options and chuckled bitterly. “My story? My story is that I’m a poor kid from the slums who worked their ass off to get into a good school so that I could do better for my family. My story is that my family never loved me, my friends never cared, and I was forced to choose between what I love to do and what the world needed from me. I didn’t have the power to stop my parents from hurting me or stop people from hurting each other. So, I manufactured that power and took it into my own hands. My story is that the moment I was released from that hellhole of a world, I was locked up in a three foot wide cage and forced to talk about my feelings. I heard what you guys were talking about in that back room. All I ask is that you do it quickly. I don’t like waiting.”

“Miguel, we can take a quick debrief if you need one,” Jessica offered, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Miguel didn’t budge. He looked into your eyes and felt your pain like it was his own. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally: “Let them go, Margo.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” he asserted. “Let them go.”

Margo released you and offered her hand to help you step down from the pedestal, which you reluctantly accepted. “Didn’t know you were one for sob stories, Mr. O’Hara,” you mocked, though your comment fell through as soon as your legs trembled from lack of use.

“I’m not,” he responded, walking up to you. “But I know an innovator when I see one. You’re hurt, yes, but you have the capacity to do so much good. I’m offering you a place on my team.”

You approached cautiously, your arms crossed. “And if I say no?”

“I’d ask you to reconsider.” He held out his hand for a shake. You accepted, and he smiled. “Welcome to HQ.”

Margo whooped in the background and gave your shoulder a squeeze.

------

“Ok, first mission briefing,” Miguel started, walking backwards.

“On the move?” you asked.

“That’s the only way to do it.” He shot a web to a nearby building and dropped from an HQ terrace.

You followed suit. “Where exactly are we going?” you shouted over the wind.

“Earth 616. There’s a rogue Vulture stealing tech from Osborn. We’d let it happen, but the man's the only thing between a country of people and an all-out war.”

“Got it.”

“We go in, capture Vulture, and bring him back to HQ. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You stepped through your portal and immediately got whiplash from the pure speed of a nearby aircraft.

Vulture swooped down from above and tore the tail off of the police helicopter. It crashed into a skyscraper and gained speed as it headed for the street below.

Miguel spoke to you through the comms. “Trial number one, newbie. I’ll pursue Vulture; you stop that helicopter from hurting civilians.”

“On it.” You dived off of your skyscraper to gain speed and pulled yourself forward with your webs. In one smooth movement, you grabbed the two co-pilots and placed them on the closest rooftop.

The helicopter was quickly approaching the ground, where children were playing in an enclosed playground.

“Shit,” you murmured, propelling yourself under the machine to create a landing pad for it at a safe distance from the kids. At the rate you could fire, you wouldn’t be able to stop it on time.

In the distance, you saw Miguel struggling to keep Vulture away from a construction site, and reached out to him over the comms. “Have him ram into that crane.”

“What?”

“Just trust me.”

Miguel redirected the Vulture, dodging last second when he attacked so that the crane would fall down.

The crane caught the chopper where it was, and you used it as a crutch to help you redirect the chaos to the empty street. You swung around the crane five times, wrapping an immense amount of webbage around it and attaching along the side of a business building. When the helicopter threatened to fall due to the weight of it, you shot three web bombs at it to keep it in place.

When you reached the ground, you were out of breath and half-heartedly waving to the clapping children and their parents. Miguel placed his hand on your shoulder as you observed the incapacitated Vulture.

“Not bad, kid,” Miguel chuckled. “Not bad.”

------

A good six months had passed, and you had risen in the ranks of the Spider Society. You were still without a place to stay, and had been bouncing from place to place in between missions. The first month, it was Pavitr and his aunt’s place. Then, Hobie’s, then HQ, and finally, Gwen’s. Most of your free time was spent discussing tech with Margo or trailing behind Miguel.

A building-wide alert had gone off, sending every spider-being into high alert as they searched for the threat.

“What’s the sitch?” you asked Miguel as the two of you bounded down the hall. “A futuristic Rhino that’s suspected to work for The Spot just invaded HQ. He’s trying to destroy our tech and pick us off.”

Just as Miguel had finished his explanation, Rhino crashed through a door four floors below. You both zipped towards him, barely avoiding running into Peter B. as he took a picture of himself, Mayday, and Rhino. Miguel attacked Rhino head-on, performing a spin-kick to the face before webbing his arms together and latching onto his back. Rhino broke his constraints effortlessly, and threw Miguel out of a nearby window. You helped Noir get to his feet and went after Rhino.

By the time you got there, Rhino had Miguel pinned to the cracked concrete. His web shooters were broken, and he was using all of his remaining strength to stop Rhino from snapping his neck. When he saw you approaching, he tried to silently signal for you to go, but you didn’t listen.

“Hey, Alexei!” you shouted. “I never really took you for the dominant type! It doesn’t suit you.”

You swung a piece of concrete at his back and zipped to deliver a punch to the face. Rhino was quick to return the favor, and charged you through a nearby wall.

Miguel attempted to stand up as backup arrived. He climbed onto Rhino’s back and sunk his teeth into his neck, effectively, though temporarily, paralyzing him. A team of 15 spiderbeings worked to get Rhino back to HQ while you and Jessica helped Miguel to his feet.

“What the hell were you thinking, kid? You could have died,” Miguel snapped.

“You were the one near death,” you argued. “If I didn’t come when I did, you could’ve died. Was I just supposed to let that happen?!”

“Yes!”

“No!” You dropped his arm from around your shoulder and Peter B. went to pick up the slack. “Why is it so hard for you to understand that people care about you? You gave me a chance when no one else would. I lost my world, my home, and my friends. I couldn’t lose you, too.”

“That’s not for you to decide. I can’t trust you like an adult if you refuse to act like one,” he grunted, before wavering in his stance. Jessica helped right him.

You took a step back and pressed your lips together. “You know, I joined this team because I wanted to save people. I have the ability to save them. And… if you can’t acknowledge that ability, then… maybe you need to reevaluate your interests.” With that, you took off.

Jessica and Peter sat Miguel down to rest.

“How bad did I fuck up?” Miguel inquired.

“Give them a few minutes to sit on it,” Peter suggested. “Kids are like that. They need time to cool off. Just make sure you talk to them later.”

------

You sat on the slanted glass roof of HQ to listen to music and blow off some steam. Heavy footprints sounded from behind you. You sighed. “If you’re here to argue, can you at least wait until the end of this song?”

“I’m not going to argue with you. I wanted to talk. And… apologize.”

That piqued your interest, but you tried to sound nonchalant as you gestured to the space next to you. “Go ahead, then. Sit.” You turned the music off.

He obliged. “I’m sorry for saying that I couldn’t trust you and that you needed to act like an adult. It wasn’t fair. I do trust you, and there’s no reason for you to act like an adult when you’re still a kid. I’ll be more conscious of my words in the future.”

You nodded. “Thanks.”

You sat in silence for a while, and you began to get up.

“Wait,” he asked. “Please.”

“What did you really come here to say?”

“Just sit, and I’ll tell you.” He waited for you to return to your spot and took a deep breath. “When I was first messing with the multiverse after working at Alchemax, I wasn’t as careful as I am now. I found a world where I was dead, but had a daughter, so I replaced myself and began raising her. I loved her more than anything. But, I was an anomaly, and had disrupted canon events. I felt her glitch right out of my hands. Thousands of innocent people died that day because of me. So, I made a vow to myself: never again. I wouldn’t let this happen to anyone else, and I wouldn’t let anyone get close to me.”

He paused, gulped, and forced himself to make eye contact with you. “Then I met you. And I tried to hate you, I really did. But you’re funny, and you’re smart and passionate, and you have a damn good heart. And everything in me just wants to protect you. I’m so mad at myself for hurting you and-”

You cut him off with a bear hug, to which he slowly responded once he understood what was happening. You shed a few tears into the crook of his neck and mumbled, “I’m sorry, too.”

He laughed, partially in disbelief. “For what?”

“I called you a dick behind your back for the first three months because I thought you had a stick up your ass.” You backed away snickering and wiped your eyes. “But you’re more my family than my parents ever were.”

Now or never, Miguel.

“About that,” he began. “I know you’ve been staying at Gwen’s place - and you’re completely free to stay there if you want - I just thought it might be nice for you to have a permanent place to stay, a school to go to, a familiar face, you know?”

“Not really,” you expressed. “What do you mean?”

“I- it’s better if I just show you.” Miguel took a folder out of his bag and handed it to you. He looked the other way as you processed what he gave you.

“Are these adoption papers?”

“Um… yeah,” he relented, still refusing to look your way.

“And this isn’t a joke?”

“Of course not. But, it’s also up to you. I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do-”

“Yes,” you cut him off and wrapped him in an even tighter hug. “Absolutely yes.”

------

Miguel helped you carry your few boxes of belongings that you had left at Gwen’s into his modern duplex.

“Jesus, dude,” you commented. “You didn’t tell me you were rich.”

He laughed. “This is what being a scientist earns you.”

“Damn.” You took the space in. The windows in the living room were from floor to ceiling, the couch a cool grey with ornate yellow and green pillows. Everything was open concept, and both the Mexican and Irish flag hung on either side of the TV. Aside from the occasional painting, the apartment was largely monochromatic.

“The kitchen is under that loft area, which I usually use as office space, but you’re free to use it, too. Bathrooms on first and second floors,” he explained while walking up the stairs. He stopped in front of the third door to the right. “This is your room.”

You gently pushed open the door. Miguel had prepared for your arrival intensely. A twin bed sat in the back left corner of the room, a desk in the back right. There was a wide panel of windows with shades and a nightstand with knick knacks. A mirror, bookshelf, decorative rug, and bean bag filled the empty space. A poster with a Spiderman symbol hung over your desk, and a smile fought its way onto your face.

“There’s a closet, too,” Miguel said proudly.

You opened the closet to find it fully stocked with casual, formal, and tactical clothing. “You did all of this for me?”

He smiled warmly. “Welcome home.”

------

It was the following year on Father’s Day, and you were waiting for Miguel to come home when you heard keys turning at the door.

“Hey,” you called from the kitchen island. “I made dinner for us. And we can watch that crappy comedy show that you like.”

He hung up his jacket and gave you a hug. “Thanks, sweetheart. How was it with your friends?”

“Pretty good. But it took an hour to get Miles out of that Famous Footwear. I swear that boy has enough sneakers to cover the Mediterranean. How was work?”

Miguel grabbed a plate and took a seat next to you. “Well, we finally figured out the malfunction in the control room. Hobie had been messing around with it for his own projects. Shocker, right? But other than that it was just a bunch of boring meetings.”

“Oh, I just remembered something.” You rushed upstairs to get a gift bag from your room and returned, out of breath. “I made this for you. It’s not much, but my job doesn’t start until July and I wanted to give you something, so…”

He removed the tissue paper to find a carefully knitted shawl with his suit designs on it. He remained speechless for a moment.

“What do you think?”

“I love it.”

“Really? Cuz I could get you something else if you’d prefer-”

“I love it,” he repeated, giving you a bear hug. “I’ll wear it all the time when the weather takes a turn.”

“I thought it might be useful for winter patrols,” you admitted.

“It will be. I know you don’t like getting too sappy, so let’s watch some TV, yeah?”

Halfway through an episode of the comedy show, you got up to use the bathroom. Miguel paused the show and admired your work on his shawl. When you came back, he was still staring at it as if he were examining each individual stitch.

“I’m back,” you said when he didn’t acknowledge you.

He hummed in response. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

You furrowed your brows, worried now. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not all, it’s just…” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I wanted to let you know that I would understand if you want to look into seeing if there’s any way to find your real parents. I love you and I want you here, don’t get me wrong, but if this is something you feel strongly about, I wanted to make sure you knew that my feelings wouldn’t be hurt.”

You stared at him for a while before bursting into laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

You grabbed his hands and looked him in his eyes. “I found my real dad the moment you brought me here. I’m home.”

He squeezed your hands and repeated your words as if convincing himself of the truth. “You’re home.”

------

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yall-hate-kids-tourney · 2 months

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Round 4: Mabel Pines (Gravity Falls) vs. Amane Momose (MILGRAM)

Propaganda below the cut

Mabel Pines (12):

I literally saw a tiktok today about how Mabel is a bad person. She’s 12! Like yes, she has made some mistakes and bad choices, but so has everyone else. And I never see any of the other characters in the show criticized the way she is. Everyone in the show has made mistakes (Grunkle Stan commits crimes practically every episode ffs) but because Mabel is a 12 year old girl and acts like it, she gets the most hate. Mabel deserves to be loved 🩷

----

girl gets so much flack for being... immature and kind of selfish at age 12? like she had whole video essays made on why she is a horrible person who deserves punishment. god forbid girls be silly

----

!!! Spoilers for Gravity Falls last 5 episodes !!!

This has gone down a lot but when the Weirdmaggedon arc was happening, the finale of the series, a big part of the fandom started hating Mabel because she accidentally caused the Weirdmaggedon (basically an apocalypse + bizarre shit like the water tower becoming an eight-legged monster with a giant mouth).

For context, in the episode that starts this arc, "Dipper and Mabel vs The Future", Mabel is really excited to the end of their summer vacation at Grunkle Stan's house, since it will be her and Dipper's 13th birthday and they will enter high school (her idea of high school of course coming from teen movies). But then this whole idea starts to shatter when Wendy tells her that high school isn't like a Disney musical, but it's okay, she will get through this since she will be with Dipper, her twin brother...

Except, that Dipper receives an invitation by Grunkle Stan's scientist brother Ford to become his apprentice after summer ends, staying in Gravity Falls, without Mabel. When she discovers it, she gets really mad at him and in a fit of rage, she accidentally picks Dipper's bag instead of hers and runs off to the woods.

When she gets there, Blendin, a time-travelling friend of theirs finds her and tells her that he has a way of making her brother stay with her, and make the summer take a little more to end, and that he just needed a little thing that Dipper has in his bag. That thing is a dimensional rift that Dipper and Ford contained to not cause the Weirdmaggedon, but Mabel didn't knew about that and gives it to Blendin. Blendin then breaks it and it's revealed that Bill Cipher was controlling Blendin to get the rift and release the Weirdmaggedon. He then traps Mabel in a bubble, starting the final arc of the series.

So, a few episodes later, that bubble she's in is revealed to be a world of fantasy that she controls, and that she didn't want to leave that world, as she was scared of growing up etc.

Context given, A LOT OF PEOPLE HATED HER FOR THIS. Suddenly people started seeing Mabel as just a selfish girl who wanted things only her way, when she was only a 12-year-old scared of growing up without her twin brother (they do end up going back together at the end but still).

The worst part is that apparently the people behind it took note of this, and on the comics that where released after the finale, she is a selfish spoiled brat. I haven't read the comics though so I'm going off what some people said about it.

Amane Momose (12):

Amane was voted guilty in the first trial so that she would acknowledge her guilt. It backfired, and now she’s considered a threat. Well, everyone is a threat, but nobody’s threat level has been as heavily discussed and debated as hers. Consider the next prisoner in line, Mikoto. He’s objectively more dangerous and cannot be restrained. He beat up the guard in trial 1, and he was able to hold his own when the other guilty prisoners were attacked. But a good incentive to forgive him is so that he will calm down. You know what? That’s a good incentive to forgive Amane too! But she *can* be restrained, so a good portion of the discussion went into how she should be voted guilty so she *will* be restrained and not a threat. Since her vote was a near 50/50, of course a good chunk of the voters expressed dissatisfaction with her forgiven verdict. Some are already planning to vote her guilty for trial 3, calling her a “lost cause”. She hasn’t even done any concrete harm yet. Hold the pitchforks until she actually causes harm, please? And what if she *was* voted guilty in trial 2? We’ve been warned that she will continue to deny our judgement. A second guilty verdict won’t make her better either, and then what? She’d be called a “lost cause” as well. There is no winning with her.

----

Where do I even start? So first of all she’s an cult child who was physically and mentally abused and tortured by her parents and then (presumably) murdered her mother after her mother killed a cat that she took care of.

Now everyone in Milgram is a murderer but when Amane came and her MV showed her murder and circumstance in an admittedly highly fictionalized depiction of it the audience decided to…repeat the cycle of abuse!

She was voted guilty for the main reason of “teaching her” and helping her “realize that she was abused.” I would like to note that this tough love approach is something her parents utilized against her. “We are only doing this to help you.”

So the audience replicates Amane’s abusers and repeats the cycle of abuse and that’s pretty shitty but it isn’t exactly “Fuck Em Kids” level.

And then Trial 2 happened. Cause Amane is bitter and angry and horrifically traumatized so she acts aggressive and hostile. Especially towards another prisoner.

Now, again, everyone here is a fucking murderer (of atleast could be constructed as one) These people being able to Harm is a core concept of this series.

Yet for some reason it feels like people treat Amane as a “delusional creepy kid who wants to kill people” which completly takes away the nuance of her character. She does have the capacity to harm! Everyone here does! She’s not Uniquly Dangerous! She just has a Reason to be Dangerous. A Reason we GAVE HER by REPEATING THE CYCLE OF ABUSE.

In short: In a series full of Murderers I’m honestly a bit pissed that the 12 year old abuse victim is the one who’s treated like the guy from American Pyscho.

----

TL;DR: "We metavoted this abused, indoctrinated child guilty in trial 1, but it didn't work. Now she is a threat to three grown adults: one who is fully free and two whom she has been shown to get along with. Please metavote her guilty again so she will be restrained and unable to attack them, even though that means subjecting her to further psychological torture." Amane Momose is the youngest of ten murderers, prisoners of Milgram who are to be judged innocent (forgiven) or guilty (unforgiven). In the first interrogation (voice drama), she said that what she did was in line with her religion's doctrines. If we judged her the "wrong way", she said she will just deny the verdict. Combining the voice drama and music video, you could piece together that she was raised in a cult and abused, even though she is cheerful and downplays her pain. She never shows *who* she killed, only *why* she did. After the first day of her vote, she was 81% innocent, but this wouldn't last the whole three months. Many people voted her guilty so she would "see her sins", part of the practice commonly known as "metavoting". Her innocent percentage rapidly decreased, and she hit guilty in the last 15 days, finishing at 51% guilty. At the end of the first trial, Jackalope (who is something like a host) went over all the prisoners' verdicts and commented on the general reasoning. When he got to Amane, he *laughed* at the audience for voting that way to make her realize her sins. Trial 2 rolled around, and it was revealed that Amane's victim was her abuser. On day one, she was at 74% innocent. Seems like a cut-and-dry case now, right? Well... in the intermission, two of the prisoners (Fuuta and Mahiru) were badly beaten up and became reliant on the care of Shidou, a doctor. Amane became hostile to Shidou because what he was doing was against her beliefs. She visited all three of them on their birthdays to convince them to change their ways. She seems to be especially close to Fuuta, who is now murmuring about salvation. Guilty prisoners are psychologically tortured, forced to listen to voices that reject their beliefs. Fuuta and Mahiru both say that the mental strain is worse than their physical injuries. But Amane, who also looks worse for wear, was thrown under the bus because she isn't injured and is considered a physical threat to them (never mind that she gets along with them). She's considered a threat to Shidou, a grown man who is twice her size and fully free, while she is partially restricted by the long sleeves in her trial 2 uniform. She might indoctrinate Fuuta even though, in a prison of ten people and one guard, she's the only voice of her cult. Fortunately, she got a break. Her vote was falling at a similar rate to the first trial. But this time, it stabilized at 51% innocent, 12 days before the end of her vote. But there's no way this is over.

#yall hate kids tourney #round 4 #gravity falls #mabel pines #milgram #milgram project #amane momose #momose amane #cw child abuse #cw cults #cw torture #cw psychological torture #cw animal death

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peachymilkandcream · 5 months

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My Husband, My Monster|Part 1|William Afton x Wife!Reader

(A/N: So this is the fandom that won the poll! I'll try and keep these and Break Me Slowly regular, but still feel free to give me requests for both in my inbox, I do oneshots and headcanons as well as I'll answer your questions and comments! (Please just read the rules first) I think I have a general timeline and idea of the lore [It's FNAF lore it's complicated as fuck] so I'm going with my best guess on things. Hope you guys enjoy!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, power imbalance, age difference, manipulation, mind breaking, yandere themes, yandere behaviours, domestic violence, misogyny, violence, William's a warning himself, etc.

=============================================

Who knew that a bit of twisted words and cash made all of your problems go away? William had struggled to stay open with Henry Emily's company showing such strides in mechanical technology. He was still wearing homemade cloth suits while his rival had dancing puppets that children adored. His dreams and ideas were being stolen right out from under him in his eyes, rolling in mountains of debt and the threat of closing down looming over his head. They were his characters, his dream, his business idea, and the bastard had to steal it and make it better. Even though he had bought William out of debt all those years back, it didn't change the sting of defeat when the two businesses merged.

Now he didn't regret it, Fredbear's Family Diner was just starting out but it was already projected to be a success. His characters took centre stage and had never been more alive, delighting young and old alike, his legacy started now.

Which is when he noticed the girl sitting at a table with her friend, they were giggling and laughing together over some inside joke. William had always had a soft spot for pretty girls, his more reckless years spent taking what women offered him freely, now he didn't have the time.

However for this girl he might just be able to make the time.

Casually he walks over, pretending to just be passing by, when he spies the job application she's filling out on the table and catching snippets of their conversation.

"I'm just saying, you're not going to have time for school while getting even a part time job." The friend was saying this, a slightly concerned expression on her face. "And now offence, you're not the brightest bulb, you need all the time to study that you can get."

"Well thanks." She mutters, giggling slightly. "But I can't afford college with my situation now. Mom and Dad agreed to pay for most of it, but-" She hesitates with a blush. "I want the full college experience."

"Ooh~" Her friend seems intrigued. "My best friend finally loosing her innocence? Scandalous."

She scoffs. "Look I just haven't found the right guy yet, it'll happen when it happens."

At this William can't help but interject. "Excuse me, I couldn't help but glance over your shoulder and see you're applying for a job here."

She meets his eyes, and man was he a sucker for a pretty face. "Yeah I am, are you a manager here?"

He chuckles a little. "No actually, I'm the owner." While co-owner was technically true he liked to tell people he owned it solely to give himself an ego boost. "If you wanted, I could do the interview right here."

"Wait really?"

"Actually, she's fine, thanks, she's going to get a job with my mom or something. Come on let's go-" Her friend slides out of the booth, trying to drag the woman with her.

"Well I'm going to be brutally honest with you here ma'am, for a girl your age your options are going to be extremely limited. And even though the pay isn't great it's a great experience."

She stops, considering his words before waving off her friend. "Go ahead, I think I'll still fill it out, never hurts."

"If you'd like I can interview you right now, save some time."

"Oh wow that would be awesome-"

"Seriously? Listen, this guy gives me a weird feeling, let's just go okay? And I'll find you something better." The friend again reaches for her to come along, but the girl refuses.

"I'm serious, go on and I'll tell you how it went later."

With a huff her friend leaves, a clearly annoyed expression evident on her face.

William regains his composure before sitting across from her. "So, a job. Tell me what you can do." He crosses his hands on the table in front of her, a smile easily coming to his face.

"Well, I was thinking I would be a good server, I'm good with people, especially kids, and I love to clean. I can cook pretty well too but I think something at this scale would be too much for me." She laughs a little, clearly trying to ease a little nervousness.

He joins in on her laughter, hoping to make her comfortable around him, since that's what he wanted. "I suppose that's fair. Out of curiosity, why is it you want this job?" She was hired already, that he knew, a pretty face with a nice ass? What more could you want from an employee?

"Well I'm in college, and I want to be able to afford just some extras to really experience that life before it's too late."

"College?" He feigns interest, in his opinion all she was doing was wasting her most fertile years and her money. If she's halfway decent at any of her qualifications then she'd easily find a rich enough man like him, pop out a few kids and have a truly fulfilling life. "Can I ask what for?"

"Psychology, the human mind has always fascinated me."

"Oh yes definitely." He suppresses an eye roll, even more of a useless degree, maybe he could help this girl from throwing her life away because she thinks deep thoughts will make her money. "Then I should ask for your class schedule for hours."

"Right, I always keep it with me because I'm always forgetting." She giggles again, pulling it out of her purse and handing it to him. "I cannot work these times but anything else I'm there."

Wanting these hours to know when not to schedule this girl was the last thing on William's mind. "Well I'll do what I can, but it's not that easy, you have to be flexible in the real world."

"Of course, I understand that sir."

"William, call me William. My grandfather was sir and my father was Mr. Afton, so I'm just William." He flashes another smile, coaxing one from her lips as well.

"Alright, William." She tests his name out on her tongue with a soft smile and a subtle blush, the poor girl clearly hasn't been within five feet of a man before.

"Now Miss, have you had any work experience prior to this?"

"No, I haven't, this sounds entitled but I've never really had the need to up until now?"

"There's nothing wrong with that, although I'll need to teach you the proper dynamic between employee and employer. But I trust that won't be a problem, right?"

"Not at all sir-er-William. I'm more than happy to learn."

"Good, all you need to know is that I'm your friend, but I have authority over you so you need to follow what I say without question."

"Why without question?"

Oh she was so naive. "Insubordination, it's grounds with which you can be fired. So best not to stray too far towards that right?" He winks.

"Absolutely-" She shivers slightly.

"Then if that's it..." He draws the moment out for it to seem authentic. "Welcome to Fredbear's Family Diner and we're happy to have you on the team." He extends a hand to shake, which she grasps eagerly, her rows of white teeth on full display.

"Oh thank you so much! When do I start?"

"We'll have you start next week, let's say, Monday."

"That's perfect, that's so perfect-" She glances at the door. "I really should go, I think I've pissed her off enough as it is, thank you for your time." She shakes his hand and hurries out the door.

"Oh trust me, don't worry about it." He watches her go, a small smile coming to his face.

This was just the beginning.

#william afton #william afton x oc #william afton x reader #my husband my monster #steve raglan #steve raglan x oc #steve raglan x reader #fnaf #five nights at freddys #purple guy #five nights at freddys movie

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thealexanderfiles · 6 months

Text

DCU from a Marvel fans limited perspective

recently i've accidently been sucked into the DCU universe, mostly Bat family, if i'm being honest, and although i've never watched a single movie/episode, this is what i have gathered from purely reading the occasional fanfiction/lots of tumblr posts

SPOILERS i guess

There are A LOT of batkids

Bruce Wayne adopts these motherfuckers like they're some kind of limited edition pokemon set

no one is actually sure how many there are but if you have black hair and blue eyes and live in gotham, Batman doesn't care if you've got parents or not. you're coming home with him

There appears to be five Robins and Batman goes though these children like a chainsmoker with a pack of cigarettes

people die a lot

Thats okay though because people come back to life a concerning amount as well

Jason Todd died and came back to life by being dumped in a pit of magical water

Damien Wayne is the only biological child of Bruce and he mentions this a lot

Dick Greyson was the first Robin and the first adoption and i think he and Bruce got in a fight and he left to become Nightwing

Jason Todd stole the Batmobile's wheels and became the second Robin. after he came back to life he became Red Hood

Tim Drake was not an orphan, he just fit Bruce's target demographic and was conveniently close (I mean come on, it's like express shipping) He is also some kind of super-genius. He was the third Robin but became Red Robin/Drake

Stephanie brown(?) was the fourth robin(?), not sure for how long. People get upset when other people forget. I think she's called Spoiler or something

Damien Wayne is the final Robin. Hes this assassins son and im pretty sure Talia dropped him off at the Wayne Manor and said, "I had him through the terrible twos, you get the teen years'

Not entirely sure if Tim runs Wayne enterprises

Brucie wayne is the funniest fucking thing i swear

He's so stupid

not sure is Tim, Dick and Jason follow Bruce's lead and become absolute airheads as well

Alfred is a butler

Alfred has guns

There's someone called Duke and Cass knocking around

The Justice League think Batman works alone

someone in the JL is allergic to the colour yellow

there is a concerning amount of Danny Phantom x DC crossover fics

sames goes for Miraculous

Tim Drake is Bi and for some reason people don't like that

internet is divided on whether of not Batman is a bad dad

#OnlyInGotham is a thing?

Gotham is like an australian NYC

the Riddler is a not funny, less aggressive version of the Joker

apparently Alcatraz and Arkham are different prisons but thats on me

there's a whole group of superheroes out there, each have strong powers and they decide to leave the most dangerous city to the member that has no powers and dresses up as an anthropomorphic bat and runs around the city causing copious amounts of property damage with his children

there is a girl called barbra? Gordon

there is a criminally small amount of content for the girls

for some reason people ship the bat kids together, ike, anytime you have to remind yourself 'its TECHNICALLY not incest is Not Good'

Clark Kent is running round acting as if his reading glasses are the only thing standing between a normal life and CHAOS and the worst thing is that he is right

i am a MCU fan and i was SO sure that Deadpool was MCU but now i'm not so sure

Fandom likes to have this troupe that Bruce wayne doesn't believe batman exists when obviously the superior troupe is that Gotham is pretty sure they are exes

teen titans and young justice are a thing but i cant figure out which robin is who.

Damien Wayne has enough animals to open a zoo

who tf in the batfam are metas?????

Batman has definetely used the Tired Dad voice on villains and the Brucie Wayne voice on the JL

Bruce Wayne has contingency plans if someone discovers his contingency plans

THERES A PLACE CALLED THE FUCKING BAT BURGER???????

it took 2 robins until batman realized that a small child running around in a vest top and speedos was not the greatest idea

Someone needs to tell me, like right now what's going on, where to start and what to read. bc rn im LIVING on chaotic fics

#bruce wayne #brucie wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #dc robin #dc comics #dc universe #someone pls tell me what DC means im actually loosing my mind here #batfam

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0w0tsuki · 6 months

Text

Hey can we stop pretending like the only feasible reason that a trans woman would not like the term femboy is because she's some puritan anti-kinkster or somehow against men being able to dress femininely?

Like perhaps maybe the group of people who had to go through a phase of having to figure out and explore their femininity while being perceived by society as a man DON'T WANT to police the way men are able to present and express their genders? Like maybe WE DON'T want to make things even harder for transfem eggs. Like maybe we might have an interest in protecting transfem eggs and are speaking from the harm that we experienced as eggs ourselves?

Like maybe it might have to do with the fact that outside of Tumblr your average femboy is a trap fetishist? Like did we all forget the memes of "trying to figure out if the Astofolo icon is a trans woman or a fascist?"

Like some of us were discovering our transness during puberty in the early 2000s. You remember the early 2000s right? Where South Park and Family were at the height of their cultural influence, the R slur was a substitute for stupid, and bigotry was so common that "traps are gay" jokes could be made in polite company without having to worry about backlash. So imagine what kink spaces were like. Especially when you're a teenage trans girl just discovering herself.

I personally was so damaged by that experience that I began to believe that my gender-no my EXISTENCE was a fetish to be embarrassed and humiliated by and to be reviled for. I genuinely did not engage in relationships because I believed I was going to have to give in and tell them that they fell in love with a sex object. I did not believe that I was worthy of love. And it took YEARS of working through that for me to be comfortable with transitioning.

And after I worked through that I still have to deal with them. They haven't left kink communities they had their roots in. To this day there's a kink website I frequent that has community suggestions for tags IE: Unless the OP of the work goes back to delete this feature, anyone can "recommend" deletions or additions to the tags of the work. This is in place to make the proper labeling/searching/blacklisting of kinks easier to help curate content. In practice though it allows transmisoginists to basically graffiti any transfem artwork they come across. And let me tell you Femboy tags are getting added on right after they replace F/F with M/M on a transbians t4t work. And it happens so frequently that I have to check in about once a month to these trans tags to inform the most recent victim about what's happened to their works.

And outside of kink spaces I go into fandom spaces where I have had to deal with trap fetishists positioning themselves as fucking lore scholars when they harass trans positive folks about the Correct and Moral gender of the transmisoginistic character that they've got a fap folder dedicated. I got to see someone rise to twitch fame off the back of trap content turn into a “femboy icon” because he gave some of the trap money to trans charities and has a trans girlfriend. Who is still making trap content by the way.I've gotten to see reddit lose their absolute goddamn minds when the term Trap was banned from r/anime, shitting themselves so hard about it that they made their own separate website with transmisogynistic wojaks on the home page and everything. And then I got to see the fucking Bridget Debacle.

The reason I always talk about Bridgets trans confirmation is that it's the most widely recognized recent event where the exact shit I'm talking about was on full display. The reason why her being confirmed as a trans woman was such a big deal for trans girls was not just because she was one of the anime caricatures with her own folder in the trap enthusiasts masterbation portfolio. It was because she was GROUND ZERO for original coining of the word trap. And the EXACT same guys who deemed her a trap were now coming out in DROVES fuck EN MASS. But this time as self appointed femboys. We had so many examples of fucking Astofolo icon twitter facists trying to drudge up any type of left sounding argument using the femboy identity after having their initial arguments revolving around mistranslation were debunked. Crying that transfems were “stealing femboy representation” and trying to say that it was an “antitransmasculization force feminization trope” ironically. You know the cry of “Let men be feminine!!!!” y'all always bring out in defense of femboys. THAT'S who you're parroting! THAT'S who you got it from! We have had direct evidence of former trap fetishists dawning the term femboy when it became less cool to be openly transmisogynistic and then started appropriating leftist language to give their transmisogynistic arguments an air of legitimacy.

Like y'all need to understand that this magical space we got here is a FUCKING BUBBLE. Femboy communities in literally every other online space are former trap/sissy communities and are fucking cess pits of transmisoginy. I have seen posts by people who's only experience being around femboys was on Tumblr go out and check a place like r/mildfemboys to be horrified by the obsessiveness of the transmisogyny the femboys they interact with. And the femboys here aren't much better by treating being forced to acknowledge that these people exist and that is a still very active part of their community even if they don't personally interact with it as a personal attack on them and their gender presentation.

Y'all just want to pretend it doesn't exist and treat the idea that a Transfem might not WANT to interact with YOU(OH GOSH!!) because of it like it's some sort of personal judgement instead of something you're just going to have to accept happens when there's a large portion of people who share that title who are responsible for traumatizing them. But y'all got to go one step further. Y'all who go on about how femboys are our closest allies and about how “femboys and transfems are actually closer than transfems want to admit”. Y'all treat femboys like they're out little fucking brother in the queer community and it's our personal fucking responsibility to leave behind any personal baggage at the door in order to make them feel welcome.

Y'all can't handle the fucking idea that a trans woman might not be comfortable with sharing community with someone who's average member would call her a trap while jacking off to her selfies if he thought he could get away with it. That's she's not interested in playing the Astofolo icon game with them. Y'all gotta create a backwards narratives where she is against her own interests, where she is for making it harder for eggs in the future instead of you know. Asking for better from the communities those eggs are drawn too.

I have been forced to fucking put up with femboys in nearly every online space I've ever been in. And I

Am sick and fucking tired

Of putting up with femboys

#transmisoginy #trans bridget #bridget #trans #femboys #femboy #f1nn5ter #transmisogyny tw #tw trap #trap tw #trap cw #cw trap #tw sissy #sissy tw #cw sissy #sissy cw

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dollwritesarchive · 2 years

Note

okay so i'm really glad you're postponing the event bc you should prioritise yourself first ! but the fluff/smut category had me thinking (plus the dance scene you showed me with jason) the first time the boys (dick/jason) say i love you to the reader?

this request is important to me FOR A FEW REASONS. i think it’s an extremely huge step for either of them to say those three words, so this really gives me butterflies.

fandom dc / masterlist coming soon / @dollsdc-library

featuring dick grayson x vigilante!reader ; jason todd x Wayne!reader

rating none of my work is meant to be viewed by minors (anyone under the age of eighteen), and i will happily block any that interact with my posts or my blog.

content warning there’s some mild violence, but other than that, it’s all fluff.

word count n.a / headcanons & concepts

attention do not repost or translate, even with ‘credit’. just don’t do it. reblog instead of like. leave feedback if you enjoyed.

bird brains writing event !!

Dick has loved you for years, and you knew it.

he showed it in the way he looked at you, as if the sun rose and set in your eyes. to him, it did.

you felt it in his kiss, or the genteel way he clasped his hands over yours. the faint skip of his heartbeat when you laid your head on his chest.

you heard it in the softness of his baritone when he called for you, as if the mere collection of letters must be strung together with silk.

you knew he wanted to, but he couldn’t say it.

and that was okay.

because you already knew he did.

every time you visited Wayne Manor, it was difficult to get you alone.

Bruce wanted to talk business.

Tim and Jason wanted the chance to spar with you, regardless of the fact that you typically took them both on at the same time, blindfolded, and win.

Cass would steal you away next, ask for pointers on how to make her suit more efficient.

but the absolute worst was Damian.

the kid that didn’t seem to like anyone had latched himself on to you like a leech, and demanded most of your time.

it hadn’t bothered Dick at first, who was just happy that his family adored his girlfriend as much as he did.

until you didn’t even sleep in bed with him.

he’d shuffled out, clad in sweats with tawny tendrils in a messy heap, and squinted when he saw Jason and Tim sprawled on dualing arm chairs, both buried deep in their screens.

“Anyone want to tell me where my girlfriend is?” he asks, looking them over.

“We tried to get her to crash in here with us,” Tim replied with a shrug.

“Yeah, but the kid threw a fit about wanting her to hang out until he fell asleep.” Jason finished, without even so much as looking up from his phone.

of course he did.

Dick was shaking his head as he crept down the hall to Damian’s room.

Damian had never demanded a babysitter; he’d never even wanted one until Dick introduced you to the house, and now he acted like he couldn’t do anything without you there to hold his hand. it was kind of adorable.

as soon as he slipped inside, he saw you curled up on the massive bed, Damian clinging to you like a koala bear. you were sleeping soundly, but Damian squinted with one eye open.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Kiddo.” Dick croons as he drifts closer, “but, I’m gonna have to steal my girlfriend back.”

Damian pouted. he pouted. since when did Damian Wayne pout instead of scowl? “We’re sleeping.” he countered, closing his eyes as if to ignore his eldest, adoptive sibling. “Come back later.”

“How about I just sleep in here, too?” Dick suggested after a moment of considering just prying the brat off of you and carrying you back to his room. it wouldn’t be fair, but neither would sleeping alone.

Damian was quiet. ignoring him.

“Come on, D.” Dick whispered, “Plenty of room. I can just squeeze in right here.” he pats the massive empty space on your other side.

Damian opened his eyes, but he didn’t say no. so, Dick took that as approval, and slid comfortably on to the mattress. he nuzzles close, wrapping his arm around your midriff, he attempts to pull you closer to him, and inadvertently drags a clinging Damian along with you, who glares up at him.

Dick rests his chin in the crook of your neck, whispering down at the kid, “Relax. Go back to sleep, already.”

it takes a while, but eventually, Damian drifts off again. leaving Dick the only one awake.

he plants a soft, butterfly kiss on your shoulder, smiling to himself at the scene. it felt like looking into the future, or, at least, what he wanted as his future.

“I wonder if our little brats will be so needy,” he thought aloud. it was strange— he’d never thought about a family beyond his siblings, or Bruce, but in this moment with you, he could see it. he wanted it. he wanted to marry you, he wanted to give you little babies that had his eyes and your nose. “Who am I kidding? Of course they will be. They’ll love you. Everyone always loves you.” he pauses, nuzzling against your ear and closes his eyes. “I love you.”

Jason “Perfect Timing” Todd told you he loved you for the first time on a rooftop overlooking the city at twenty three past two in the morning. which sounds romantic in theory.

in practice, however? not so much.

it had been seven vs two; five of those had been beefy thugs twice your size in stature, with biceps bigger than your head, but of course, you’d leapt at the opportunity to bring them down. after all, how did the saying go?

the bigger they are, the harder they fall.

Jason kept stealing glances at you when he parried, ready to break and run to your side if you were to find yourself overwhelmed. but every time, without fail, you were putting another one in the dust, until there were a ring of writhing bodies at your feet; and you were the visage of a warrior goddess in his eyes— sent down from the heavens to kick ass.

he stared, maybe a fraction of a second too long, and his gut met his opponent’s fist. he grunted, stumbled back against the ledge. the faint click of a pistol being torn from a sheath at the thug’s hip rang out. your attention was drawn to the sound, and something inside you snapped.

Jason had a plan of escape, but he hadn’t had the time to act upon it, because the heel of your boot cut through the air between him and the enemy, cracking against his wrist bone. he cries out, firearm flying free from his grip, and he reaches for the broken bone with his other hand, cradling it.

Jason caught the gun by the handle, and smirked behind his mask, before flipping it over, gripping it by the handle.

new plan.

the thug was caught in a whirlwind of your fists and feet, but even with one hand now out of commission, he was holding his own— countering every move. Jason could tell it was getting to you by the way your jaw tightened, and your form became sloppy.

you were frustrated, borderline erratically throwing your limbs at him in hopes of getting through.

he calls your name.

the sound of the syllables on his tongue is enough to center you. you knew what he wanted to say. “Slow down. Focus.” and you do.

kicking your leg up, you hook your knee around the back of your opponent’s neck, forcing him to double over, incapacitated for only a moment or two. but it’s enough.

you look to Jason, whose gloved hand is extended, the other brandishing the gun backwards.

with a vixen’s simper, you reach for him, but instead of taking his hand, you snatch the gun from it. if he wanted the final blow to be his, he had another thing coming.

Jason had scoffed behind his mask, before staring in awe as you hike yourself up on to the man’s shoulders, bringing the butt of the gun against the back of his head.

your knees dig into his shoulder blades as he falls face first against the concrete with a grunt, and you exhale.

but Jason was still staring, and those four words left his lips, muffled behind the Red Hood, before he even realized he’d said them.

“Christ, I love you.”

“What did you just say?” you asked, wide eyed, scrambling to your feet. you were huffing from exertion, and your muscles ached, but all of your focus had zeroed in on him. you couldn’t believe your own ears.

“What? Nothing.”

raising your brows, you advance towards him, now excited. “No, no, no! What did you say, huh? What was that?!” both hands flee to grab at his mask. “What did you say??”

“Knock it off!” but he was laughing, trying to shake his head, leaning back against the ledge to stay out of your reach. he couldn’t, because you’d already wrenched it from his head, cradling it against your midsection like a football.

“Give it.”

“Not until you tell me what you said!” you exclaim, trying to escape to the other side of the roof, but he’s sprinting after you, howling with laughter.

you traipse over unconscious criminals, before you squeal with delight when his powerful arms snake around your waist and pull you back to him.

your back collides with his solid chest, and you hunch forward, hugging the mask tighter. “Tell me!”

“All right!” he exclaims, one hand reaching to cradle your cheek, and turn your face towards him. his chin is hovering just over your shoulder, and his cheeks are reddened, even in the silvery moonlight, but he doesn’t hesitate to pour his gaze into yours when you crane your neck. “Look at me, ya pain in the ass.”

your noses brush against one another, his lips hovering inches from yours; your smile has faded slightly, your breath quivering against his mouth.

“I said I love you.”

your heart felt like it was about to leap from your chest into your throat, and suddenly, words escape you. you can tell he’s waiting on you to say something, but you can’t. you only stare, amazed.

one, dark brow arches. “Come back to earth.” he mutters, playful. “And say something, you’re makin’ me kinda nervous here.”

“Do you mean it?” you ask, abruptly. you’re still gazing at his features, but your stare is analytical, as if trying to pick apart each muscle movement and decide if he were lying or not.

Jason tilts his head to the side, his teal gems falling to your lips. you have the sudden urge to bite down on the lower to keep it from quivering. he notices, and smiles wider.

“Why don’t ya kiss me and find out?”

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queers-gambit · 7 months

Text

Dinner At The Homesick Restaurant

( a 303-page novel by Anne Taylor )

prompt: behind closed doors, many families have secret turmoil. you experience your boyfriend's with him one fateful Christmas. or how Carmy finally made the decision to get away.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 10.4k+

note: highly recommend the book. also let author write out her stress and trauma please, this was GOING TO get deleted but 10k is a lot of effort so please be kind in what you say.

warnings: spoilers, cursing, toxic family, small hurt and comfort, loving someone despite toxic situations beyond anyone's control, Lord's name in vain, a little of what happens after THAT scene, reader nicknamed Peach.

⚠️ season two, episode six spoilers

"What're you readin', Peach?"

You looked up through the lens of your glasses, smiling at your questioning boyfriend as his bare feet slapped the polished floors of the hotel suite you sought refuge in. You greeted with a soft tease, "Good morning to you, too, sunshine."

"Yeah, yeah. You're right, sorry, hi," he smirked, bending down to kiss your lips in greeting. "Been up long?"

"No, no, just about a chapter or so," you lied, not wanting him to know you've been up for hours out of sheer anxiety. "I made us some coffee, too."

"My perfect girl," he smirked, bending to kiss you again. "Want a refill?"

"I'm okay, thank you." It was quiet for a moment before you heard Carmy fucking around in the kitchen, trying to focus on the novel in your lap, but being most unsuccessful. "Don't forget about tonight," you called in reminder, wondering how to broach the subject before just ripping the Bandaid off.

"What's tonight, again?"

"Carmy."

"I'm kidding," he chuckled, exiting the kitchen to take a seat on the couch at your feet, bringing them onto his lap. "I know, we're gonna go over at, like, 2..."

You nodded absently, seeing the distant look in his eye. "Are you sure it's okay for me to come?" You wondered, nudging him with your foot.

"Hmm?" Carmy looked at you in confusion. "Peach, you've been before, why would it be weird now?"

"I don't know, I wasn't a girlfriend all those times I attended."

"Oh, you're a girlfriend this year? Hmm... To who?"

Your eyes rolled as you pinched him; loving the easy smile on his lips. "Not funny, I'm just trying to be sensitive to all parties," you pouted.

"I know," he allotted, taking a mouthful of coffee before setting his mug down. He started rubbing your feet and ankles, admitting, "I'm a little nervous, I guess..."

"I know."

"It's nice that you'll be there," he nodded, sighing. "They all still give me shit for going away."

"I know, and it's not fair to you," you assured, "you don't deserve that kinda treatment. Say the word, Bear, and we'll skip it."

"Too late now," he wiped his tired eyes. "I need a smoke, Peach."

"I'm gonna hop a shower."

"I'll be in," he smirked, standing with his coffee after gently lifting your feet from his lap. You watched him move for the balcony sans a shirt and frowned when your mind repeated the passage you had just read. Quickly, you opened your book again and read what made your heart so very heavy:

"'You think we're a family,' said Cody, turning back. 'You think we're some jolly, situation-comedy family when we're in particles, torn apart all over the place, and our mother was a witch.'"

The similarities were eery. You saw Carmy light up through the glass door of your rented hotel suite, knowing his family was falling apart and he was powerless to it all; they all were. Carmy, his siblings, any loved ones... You tossed the book on the table, stood, and moved for the balcony.

Carmy leaned on the railing, glancing over shoulder as your arms slithered around his middle. With a kiss to his bare shoulder, you whispered, "I love you, Cream. So much."

He took a long, steadying breath, but replied with full sincerity, "I know, and I love you, too, Peach. So much."

Yeah, that's right, bitches. You were Peaches and Cream. Did it get cuter than that? Didn't think so!

Another kiss to his shoulder and you promised, "I'll be with you the whole time."

"I know."

"You're not alone."

"I know," he sighed. "I just... I know what we're walking into."

"We'll get through it - whatever happens. C'mon, come get a shower with me. It'll save water and shit."

However, you probably used about twice as much because as obvious romp in the glass-stall started. When clean, you both got out, dried off, did your hair, then your make-up; then both getting dressed and ready for one helluva holiday.

On the way, you stopped to pick up flowers for Carmy's mother, Donna, keeping hold of the homemade peach cobbler you had prepared. The whole drive, Carmy kept a possessive hand on your thigh; his nerves showing through as he nervously tapped a rhythm to your flesh. You reminded him to breathe, but he couldn't focus long enough to keep himself regulated.

You tried distracting him with conversation, but nothing stuck for too long. You tried letting a hand thread into his curls, but it didn't soothe him like it usually did.

Arriving, you and Carmy just sat in your car for a long moment. You didn't rush him, you did't speak, you just held his hand with one hand as the other extended to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck; and waited for his move. "All right," he cleared his throat, throwing his cigarette butt out the window before rolling it up and cutting the engine. "You ready?"

"We got this," you assured softly.

"There you are," Carmy smirked, hands catching your waist as you tried to pass through the hall, "thought you ran outa here already."

"We're just warming up," you purred, his chest to your back; your arms crossed to hold onto his engorged biceps. You grinned as your foreheads met for a fleeting moment of peace.

"I'm really happy you're here," he whispered.

"Me, too."

"Love you, Peach."

"Love you, Cream," you sang, making him chuckle a little.

"You know, some of the guys thought you and I finally getting together is all some big cover story."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm," he hummed, snuggling into your embrace as you both found a secular moment of seclusion to get in a much-needed recharge. "Say you're actually dating some hunky Italian model dude."

You hissed between your teeth, "So, so close, but he's actually French."

Carmy chuckled, then took a sobering breath and glanced over his shoulder. "Should get back. I found Mikey and Nat - they were on the front stoop, smoking."

"Good," you mused, turning in his embrace. "Gimme a kiss, please, then you can go," you pouted.

He looked up, then at you with mocking confusion, "But there's no mistletoe."

"I wanna kiss."

He snickered at your pouting, fat lip, leaning in to find your lips with his. There was a brief moment outside of time, space, and reality; and it was when you and Carmy kissed. God, was he a good kisser, albeit a bit wet, but still a damn-good kisser; and you relished every moment of it. His taste was like an intoxication. His hands hot. Smell prickled your sinuses delightfully. Body firm, love warm.

"Ewww," Fak gagged when he saw you two, "get a room, nobody wants to see that! Ugh! God!" He shuffled past you.

"Fak," you snipped, watching him pause.

"Sorry, Peach," he sighed, leaning in to peck your cheek. "You look beautiful as ever."

You hummed, patted his cheek, and then took Carmy's hand to enter the kitchen after Fak where Donna worked frantically. "Hi, Mama, Dee!" You greeted cheerfully, Carmy's hand already sweating.

"Oh! Hi, my baby, Peaches! Oh, good, good, good, you made it!" Donna rushed over to kiss your cheeks, hands held out to not get grease or sauce or fish on you. "You look so beautiful!" She gasped, "Oh, honey, you look - wow! Stunning! Just stunning!"

"Oh, you just like flattering me," you teased, feeling Carmy's hand tighten. "Something smells so fucking amazing - oh, this is going to be a dinner for the books, huh?"

"Who's flattering who now?" She laughed.

"It's not flattery when it's completely true," you laid on thick, hoping the compliments bulked up to fluff her ego enough to save the family from an inevitable breakdown later.

"Did you bring your cobbler?" She asked with glee.

"Of course," you beamed, "I couldn't come here without one, that'd just be criminal!" Donna laughed with you, and you thought now was a good time to ask, "Can I help with anything?"

"What? Oh! No, no, no, honey, Peaches, no, no, no, I just want you to get a drink and go talk - go mingle! It's the holidays!"

You looked at Carmy as she went back to cooking, flabbergasted as to what you could say. "I'm gonna stay, you go - sit," He whispered with pinched brows and nodding his head, rubbing your waist. "Go 'head, baby, it's okay."

"I could peel - "

"It's alright, Peach," he chuckled, pecking your lips. "Go." His lips moved to your ear, "I want you good and drunk by tonight so we can have really dirty sex later, huh?"

"Deal," you purred. "But I can sit over there - "

"Peach."

You glanced at Donna, then at Carmy, whispering, "I just want to help."

"I know, Peach. Not right now though, okay?"

"She likes me, though." He nodded in agreement, looking ready to cave. "Stop trying to get outta this, Carmy, and just accept it," you smirked. "I'm gonna get some wine and be back."

He hummed as you kissed him in parting, and when you exited, missed the way Donna smirked at Carmy, "Can't leave a room without a kiss? Didn't think you'd ever be so possessive, Carmy, honey."

"I'm not, she likes it," he eased. "Here, let me get that," he freed her hands, trying not to snap when she picked up her wine immediately after. Carmen got to work doing what his mother barked at him, but then the Faks came in, and you returned, and then Mikey arrived - it all turning into an overcrowded shit-show.

"Where's the cake!?" Donna worried.

"It's defrosting, Ma," Carmen answered.

"Ma, why don't you let him help you?" Mikey sneered. "It's, like, all he fucking does, he'd be great."

"What was that? Was that, like, a shot?" Carmy snapped.

"Baby, don't, c'mon," you tried, reaching for his waist to curl your fingers so he felt your long nails. Not too hard, just enough to assure him you had ahold of him.

But Carmen couldn't let it go, even when his mother tired to diffuse the siblings. He snarled at his older brother, "I'm the guy that does food. You're the guy that what? Y-Y-You, uh, start a hundred different businesses and have zero follow-through."

"Carmy, don't," you tried, but it was lost to the sea of voices all talking at once.

But his brother was antagonizing, his mother deflecting, and he snapped, "This is why - This is why I didn't wanna come home, why I didn't wanna bring Peaches home to you all."

You remained silent when his mother snapped, "Oh, fuck you!"

"What the fuck!? What!?"

"Why the fuck would you say that?" Donna snarled.

"It's fuckin' Christmas," Mikey tacked on. They both over lapped one another, and Carmy felt backed into a corner.

"Not in front of my girl, man, fuck," Carmy had snipped at them.

"Say the fuckin' words!"

Carmy paused, then answered, "I love you, guys."

His mother was pleased and kissed his cheek, going back to cooking as Mikey kissed Carm's head. He looked over at you, mutely taking your outstretched hand to give a squeeze for each count to five; regulate his breathing, and then nodding in assurance he was okay. He went back to doing whatever his mother directed. Before he could slip away, you leaned into his ear, whispering, "I'm gonna step out."

"Good," he nodded, glancing back at his mom - but Donna was distracted. "I'll find you soon," he promised, pecking your lips before you exited the kitchen.

"Hey! Hey, Peach!"

"Hi, Mikey," you smiled, looking up at him when you paused outside the kitchen.

"Listen, uh... I just, uh... Look, I know I put you in a weird position," he sighed, hand to the back of his neck.

"How so?"

"By callin' you... Textin' you..."

"You want to check on Carmy," you sighed, "and you're as good as my real brother, so, I don't mind."

"It feels wrong since, you know, y'all are together now or somethin'."

"Mikey," you eased, "I was your guys' friend first, then I was family, and then I was Carmy's girlfriend. If you need your friend or your sister, I'm here, but if you need Carmy's girlfriend, I'll have to tell him. Get it?"

He chuckled, "I knew you'd understand."

"All too well," you eased.

"He doin' all right...?"

"He will be. He's just," you took a pause to sigh, "really tired and stressed. He works really hard, Mikey... Like really, really hard. Like you wouldn't believe."

"Nah, I know, Peaches, I know."

"Might be nice for him to hear that sometimes."

"That's what I'm fucking talking about!"

You apologized and had to leave Michelle when you heard Carmen's elevated voice, excusing yourself to look around the corner and spot your boyfriend in some heated argument with his brother and his brothers best friend, who they called Cousin, Richie Jerimovich. You were about to step in when you froze, hearing the argument without the guys realizing you were standing there.

"Seriously?" Mikey laughed. "You seriously think you're gonna keep a girl like Peach? Man, we all know this is some bullshit fling, but seeing Claire Bear - Man Alive!"

"That doesn't even make sense!" Carmy snapped.

"Oh, c'moonnnn, Carmy," Richie groaned, "look, I love her, I do, but we all know there ain't no way Peach is, like, girlfriend material. She's still sowing her wild oats, you know, just, fuckin' around and shit!"

"Fuck did you say!?" Carmy snarled, lunging for Richie but being caught by Fak's faster hands. "Huh!? The fuck did you just say!? Callin' my girl a slut? Fuck are you on about - "

"No, I ain't say - "

"Better watch your fucking mouth," Carm growled, "and learn to respect our relationship 'cause neither of us are goin' anywhere. Peach is here to stay - like it or not - and she's here to stay with me!"

"But you had such the crush on Claire - "

"I had a crush on Peach, too!"

"But Claire - "

"Nothing about Claire, Jesus, fuck! I don't need y'all fucking meddling! Peach and i are good, fuck you doin' set me up with some other chick!? I don't want nobody else - I got the girl of my fuckin' dreams, fuck you guys doin' tryna ruin that!?"

"We're just tryna help you, man, talk you up, man! Fuck! Don't gotta sound so ungrateful - "

"You don't need to! You don't need to talk me up to anybody, you fuckin' idiots! I have Peach! I don't need you to talk me up because I'm good, okay? I'm good. I got Peach, I'm committed to her, so don't try to talk me up to anyone for any fucking reason - good intentions or not!"

"Y'all aren't even serious!" Mikey laughed loudly. "C'mon! Peach isn't a relationship kinda girl, ain't no way you're thinkin' y'all are gonna last or be some, like, serious thing. You're just bored! But we're telling you, man, Carmy, you don't gotta be anymore, 'cause Claire Bear is - "

"Not my fucking girl!" Carm snapped, temper loosening. "Fuck off! Ain't got nothing decent to say - then just shut the fuck up!"

They called Steven in and you panicked for a millisecond before evening your stride to look like you just arrived. "Hey," you smiled to the lads, "what's all the yelling about? Jesus Christ, it's like a holiday at my house when Meemaw comes to visit."

"I told you," Carmy's attitude directed at you, making you feel disarmed, "these assholes don't respect our relationship, they were trying to set me up with someone else."

You offered the others a stale look as your hand latched to Carmy's, sounding like a scolding mother, "Real mature, you guys. That's wildly disrespectful and it's hard not to take it personally."

"We don't mean it in a bad way, Peach," Richie sighed, "just that there's other options and neither of you have to settle."

"'Settle'?" Carmy laughed, and you had to readjust your stance to prevent him from charging. "You're forgetting Peach did whatever she could to make us work, she was loyal when none of y'all could bother answering the phone, and she always held me down. And then, when I was finally good, I promised her we could come home. So, you jagoffs owe her your thanks that we're even home this Christmas."

"None needed," you smiled, wanting to start screaming yourself but holding back for the sake of Carmen. "I'm sure their jealousy keeps them warm at night, who am I to take that from them by having them apologize?"

"Don't do that," Mikey groaned. "Get all high and mighty."

"How have I ever? You're the assholes shitting on your brother for having a girlfriend. Just 'cause you've all thought about me when self-pleasuring, doesn't mean take your jealousy out on our relationship."

The argument started up again, sighing as you didn't engage but instead tried to hold your boyfriend back when he bared his teeth at a few comments hurled at you both. You flinched away when Mikey started reaching for Carmy to physically pick at him, inciting his anger; making him snap back to not "fucking touch" him.

"Mikey, please," you tried to stave off, but Richie reached out and lugged a heavy arm around your shoulders. "Richie, for fuck's sake. C'mon, just fuck off. Mikey, don't fucking touch him - c'mon, guys!"

"Awh, you get so defensive for him, it's so cute," Richie laughed, jostling you a little as Mikey and Carmy still snapped and snarled at each other in the way only siblings could.

"'Cause y'all don't know how to fuckin' stop," you pushed Richie off you. But then...

"HEY!"

You flinched when a wooden spoon flew through the air to hit Stevie, who yelped in shock from the sting. "Hey! What the fuck?" He looked up and asked, "Auntie D, did you just throw a spoon at me?"

"Yeah, I did," Donna snarled, hanging in the doorway. "You, Richard, bring her the pop - "

"Deedee - "

"You, Carmen, I need you!"

This triggered another avalanche of voices to overlap one another. You moved towards Carmy as Mikey approached his mother, hearing Richie tell Carmen, "We're not done about this Claire Bear thing."

"Yes, you fucking are," you snapped, pushing Richie a half-step back. "Fuck off, Cousin, you're taking this too far."

"I only meant - "

"We all know what y'all mean, but go fuck yourself! We're happy, now either accept that or fuck off 'cause you're not gonna come between us. Go, goodbye, go, go, go tend to your pregnant wife - go, goodbye, fuck you," he tried to talk over you, sounding amused, "Merry Christmas, I love you and shit, but fuck you, go away."

He backed off as Stevie left the room, allowing you to turn for Carmy as he leaned on the arm of an armchair. His head shook and reached for you, bringing you in closer until his head rested on your stomach and his arms coiled in a vice grip. You frowned and thread your fingers through his hair, hearing his mother starting up another tangent about needing Carmen. With a sigh, he looked up at you, "Thank you."

"Hmm?"

"For just being here," he whispered. "I'm sorry about them."

"They're breaking your balls, baby," you smiled, curling his curls behind his ears. "C'mon, we should go help your mama."

Carmy sighed and stood to his feet, "You don't have to stay."

"But then how will I know you're okay?" You pouted, watching him smile and wrap his arms around your waist.

"I'm sorry about them," he whispered. "They don't - they don't know what the fuck they're talking about."

"It's okay," you matched his tone, ignoring your own burning-hot emotions. "They're just jealous."

He nodded, hearing his mother snarl something else about needing him; making Carmy sigh. His lips found yours in a slow kiss, pausing to lean his forehead on yours, "Really grateful you're here with me, Peach."

"Nowhere else I'd rather be, Cream," you grinned, starting to lead him back towards the kitchen.

"Hang on," he paused you, glancing around to see nobody lingering. "You know I love you, Peach, right?"

"And you know I'm very serious about this relationship, Carmy, right?"

He rested against you, breathing, "I know." Then his lips spread in a grin, "Gonna marry you one day, Peach."

"Good," you teased, but being honest, "because I can't see spending my life with anyone else but you, Cream. I mean, who else has a family this entertaining?"

He laughed as he followed after you.

"Help me, Peach, please, Goddamn it," Donna grunted, trying to lift a heavy, full cast iron pot. "There we go," she mused when you gabbed the other end to put it back on the burner. You didn't comment that it was the same pot she had Carmy move earlier, just doing as she asked.

She only let you in the kitchen because of Carmy.

Speaking of... "Behind, baby," Carmy muttered, a hand ghosting your waist as he moved. Sugar appeared and you only tried to minimize yourself as eight different timers were ringing for any unknown fucking reason.

Donna sent Carmy off to get saltines for a pregnant, nauseous Tiff, leaving you three women. "Oh!" Donna gasped, "You're almost empty! Here, here, Peach, here you go!" She cheered when she saw your nearly-empty wine glass. Sugar sent you a long look, and you knew this was eating her alive to watch her mother like this; but you hoped you were enough of a buffer for them.

A few minutes later, Donna asked if you could go grab another bottle of wine for you two to share. You froze, between a rock and a hard place; knowing you shouldn't but not wanting to upset the host. You had once done the same with your own mother, perhaps being a reason you didn't go home for holidays.

"Yeah, of course, one second, Miss Lady," you told Donna, sending a confused look to Sugar.

When you walked out, you nearly ran straight into Carmy. "Shit," he breathed, "sorry, baby, didn't mean to run into you like."

"It's okay, but where you goin', speed racer?"

"Mikey's gift," he actually grinned, watching you return his excitement after knowing how much thought he put in.

"You know we're doing exchanges later," you laughed lightly, watching him go. Finding the wine rack, you selected a bottle, and returned to the kitchen where Donna and Sugar were bickering. "Here," you smiled, setting the bottle down to uncork it.

"Thank you, honey," Donna purred, accepting your pour. When she turned for the stove again, you winked at Sugar and discreetly tipped the wine bottle over into the sink to drain it until it was about a quarter way full. "Carm? Where the fuck are my saltines?" She yelled.

When he returned, he gave his mother what she needed before approaching you. "Wanna take a break?" He mumbled.

"Dinner doesn't make itself, baby," you teased.

"Hmm," he hummed, pecking your neck, "I'm gonna run Tiff up some crackers."

You continued your work for several long minutes, when suddenly, Donna pulled one of the seven fishes from the oven. She turned, set it on the counter, but stumbled last second to accidentally knock her wine glass over. The shattering made both Sugar and Donna swear. You wanted to help, but Sugar was already on the floor trying to clean, causing Donna to seethe, "It's like I fuckin' have to do everything for everyone." You and Natalie tried to assure her, but she spoke over any reassurance, "No one fucking lifts a finger to help me."

"Look, I'm getting it right now!"

Donna leered over her daughter, making you freeze, "Can you just go upstairs and get Dad's gun out of my drawer," she held her thumb and pointer finger like a gun, muzzle to her temple, "and I think I'm just gonna blow my fuckin' brains out, and then you guys can make dinner - " Sugar tried to speak over her mother but was unsuccessful, "because I don't think anyone would fuckin' miss me!"

Natalie sobbed as she tried to say anything other than "No! You're okay!" When the older woman gabbed her daughter's cheeks in a pinching-hold, you felt like throwing up as the scene - the words - the actions - it was all too familiar to you. They still yelled over one another, but then, Steven entered the kitchen and disturbed them all.

He only got to greet, "Hey, Donna, Mama D - "

Before Donna screeched at him, "Oh, motherfucking asshole!"

"Out, out, out," You ushered, gently directing Stevie to the door; Sugar repeating what you said as Donna still snarled and yelled and insulted and cursed.

"Get the fuck out!"

"I'm so sorry, Stevie," you whispered when you pushed him out the door. "Thank you for offering, but we got it - it's okay."

You sniffled as Sugar collected the trash and promised to take it out; one of the timers ringing. Donna looked lost and confused as Sugar left, the matriarch whispering, "What's that for?"

"Is it the flounder?"

She didn't answer, lost in her mind, yet muttering, "Nobody would fuckin' miss me."

"Mama D?" You called, watching her startle back into reality. "Is that timer for the flounder?"

"Oh! Right! Yes!" She clapped, pointing at you, "And that's why you're my favorite, Peach. Tell you what," she scoffed, shaking her head, "don't you ever have kids. They fuckin' ruin everything, never show gratitude, never bother to help their fucking mother."

"Well, I'm not thinking about kids yet," you chuckled softly, hoping to distract her. "Still got a lot more life to live before that."

"Just don't do it," she spat. "Even with a sweet boy like Carmy, kids just ruin relationships. Marriage ain't no better, either. What - where's the fucking bread?"

"Here," you sighed, showing her the bread basket.

"Hey," Carmy entered the kitchen, looking exhausted, "can I talk to you for a second, Peach?"

"If your Mama doesn't need me," you nodded, not wanting to tell him too much about what you witnessed.

"I need you everyday, honey," she spoke softly, leaning in to peck your cheek, "but it's fine, it's fine - I don't need help. Go with Carmy. Go, go, go, go."

"Holler if you need us," you smiled, "even if it's just for hot gossip."

"My girl," she teased gently with a wink.

"C'mon," Carmy muttered, taking your hand, and leading you out a side door. He glanced around a few times, finally finding a secluded part of the house. When he came to a halt, you did too, and he sighed as his hands took your waist, "Sugar told me to come rescue you. Said something happened with Mom and I should check on you? The hell happened?"

You shrugged, "Just... Sometimes I forget what family feels like. I left mine for a multitude of reasons, maybe I feel like I fit in better with you Berzatto's. Mama D just got frustrated, and it reminded me of my mom. I wasn't scared, but I think I was triggered."

He nodded, "You need a break."

"I'm okay, I promise."

"You're not," he sighed. "You shouldn't be on the frontlines against her. Okay? It's too stressful for anyone and I need you with me. I need you whole. You know? Need you intact for me, and Ma's only gonna rip you to shreds."

You pouted, "I just... I thought if I helped, she'd feel calmer, maybe save you guys from taking her shit. We used to cook all the time together..."

Carmen sighed, reaching for your cheek to caress your jaw, "You really are a sweetheart." Carmy leaned in and claimed a kiss from your lips, making you both sigh in contentment. When he pulled back, Carmy whispered, "I love you, Peach."

"I love you, too, Bear."

"Carmy!"

He whined, deflating on your shoulder at his mother's cry. "Holidays are almost over, baby. Gotta hang on for a bit, I need you intact, too."

You parted ways, Carmy returning to the kitchen as you meandered around the rest of the rooms, peaking into each of them. "Hey!" Someone cheered, making you look up to a separate doorway leading to a sitting room.

"Oh, shit, hey, Pete!"

"Peaches!"

"Just Peach!"

He laughed and accepted your hug, "Merry Christmas! Happy holidays, seasons greetings, warm tidings, and shit."

"You, too," you cooed, glancing at the tin in his hand. "Oh... Y-You brought something?"

Pete blinked as the room snickered. "Yeah? It's... It's tuna casserole."

"And you brought fish... Why?"

"'Cause it's the Feast of Seven Fishes - "

"And by bringing tuna, it'd be eight fishes."

He sighed, "Yep, so I keep being told."

"I mean, good intentions, honey, but wildly misplaced," you winced. "Probably shouldn't let Carmy see..."

And of course, when you said that, your boyfriend came from behind to clap his hands and call, "Hey, family!" He tried to announce dinner but Pete was too happy to cheer loudly and greet your lover. "Woah, woah, woah. What the fuck is that?" Carmy demanded when he saw the aluminum dish tin.

"Don't tell him," Michelle voted.

"What do you mean, 'don't tell him?'" Mikey followed.

"It's nothin', it's nothin', I - "

"Peach," Carmy looked at you, making you freeze, "what is this? What is that? Peach, the hell is that?"

"Um, well," you tried to smile in reassurance, taking his stiff hand, "you know, you're gonna get mad, but Pete's heart was in the right place."

From behind, "Uncle" Lee told Carmy, "It's a tuna casserole."

You saw the way Carmy locked in on Pete, taking a half-step back but not letting go of his hand. "It's seven fishes, Pete," Carmy snapped. It started a new wave of slander. By the end, his hand was clamped around yours in a vice, leading you through the room and telling Pete, "Just don't let her see. Don't let her see!"

"Dinner," you reminded the room, following Carmy as Sugar passed to approach her husband.

"Wanna help me dress the desserts table?"

You nodded in agreement, and together, you and Carmy brought out all kinds of dishes to leave on the table. You were bringing out the peach cobbler you brought when you caught the tail-end of whatever Michelle was telling Carmy. "That's so nice," you interrupted, moving between the two to set down the cobbler, "offering up your place like that, but we have one."

Her head cocked, asking in interest, "You do?"

"My family does," you nodded.

"Well, think about what I said," Michelle told Carmy. "Would love to see you guys in the city," she smirked at you.

"Yeah, all right, sure," he agreed. When she left, you turned on your boyfriend with confusion, but he only sighed, "She was recommending I get away from this family-drama bullshit."

You shrugged, "Not a half-bad idea."

"We'll see..."

"Carmy," you frowned, "we'll do whatever is best and right for us. Okay? Nothing more or less."

"I hear you," he muttered.

"And I just got confirmation that we can use the apartment in Manhattan," you told him. "So, whenever we're ready to go, we can go, okay? We don't have to shack up in a hotel room for much longer."

"I don't mind it," he eased. "I'll make a decision... I'll make a decision by this weekend about New York, okay?" You agreed, him looking over your shoulder before taking your hand. "Dinner's on," he reminded, feeling your hand snake around his waist to rest; letting his arm raise to accommodate you, latch around your shoulders, continuing forward to the dining room.

However, before entering, you pulled Carmy to a halt. "Hey, hey," you smiled, turning him to face you, "I'm really proud of you for coming home. I know it's not easy, but you're so brave for going through this."

"'Brave'?" He scoffed.

"Brave," you agreed, nodding. "People associate it with knights slaying dragons, but in my opinion, it takes far more bravery to stand up to family than it is a stranger. Takes more bravery to confront those that haunt your home than it does to confront a literal dragon. Hmm?"

Carmy reached a hand out to curl a strand of hair behind your ear. "How'd you get so insightful?"

"That bullshit college you, Mikey, and Richie all roasted me about going to them years ago? Yeah, uh-huh, that education paid off."

"Didn't do shit for your grammar, though, did it?"

"Hush," you laughed, pinching his sides to make his squirm.

You and Carmen entered the dining room to see mostly everyone in their seats; slowly making it to your own on the other side of the table. "Here, Peach," Natalie smiled when you sat between her and Carmy; her at the head of the table. "Got you a refill," she set your wine glass in front of you.

"You're a literal angel."

"I have a question," Cicero addressed your half of the table as Carmy got up to check on his mother. "I heard why we call Sugar, Sugar, but where did the nickname 'Peach' come from?"

"Oh," you smiled at him, "Miss Mama Dee taught me to bake and helped me perfect this peach cobbler recipe. I brought it to all my family events, work events, and when I attended, all my school events. Since then, it just stuck as a name."

He hummed and nodded, offer a silent toast with his glass as Carmy returned - looking mildly startled.

You heard Michelle asking if she could start the process to dish up what she wanted to her plate, Carmy assuring her to wait until Donna; she was coming out at any minute. You leaned back in your chair, nuzzling your boyfriend's side; his hand latching around your upper knee to keep you close with you hugging his arm. "All right?" He mumbled, glancing down at you.

"Are you?"

"Mhm."

"What'd your mom say?" You whispered, feeling him stiffen. "Carmen, please..."

"She's upset, stressed; says nobody cares, nobody makes shit beautiful," he whispered frantically.

"Okay," you soothed in his ear, "just breathe, baby, I need you to breathe. Shh," his head was bowed so you pecked his cheek, "she's just stressed from the holidays. We all know how she gets."

He sighed and nodded, caressing the skin of your leg he had been gripping tightly. "Hey, Mikey?" Michelle asked sweetly.

"Yeah?"

"You wanna say grace?"

Mikey gave an awkward sort of chuckle, relenting, "I don't know, cousin. This motherfucker gonna cut me off?"

You blinked and reached for your wine, intrigue peaking. Uncle Lee, who the jab was directed at, cleared his throat and answered, "It depends. Uh, is it a grace we've heard a million times before?"

"Okay, okay," Cicero stepped in.

You offered, "Well, good Christians know the prayers 'cause they're said a million times, right? Huh?"

"Yeah!" There was another round of agreement, desperate to direct the attention away from the two men.

"Does that mean you wanna lead grace, Peach?" Jimmy asked.

"Oh, no, no, I think the honor should go to Stevie."

"Can I please not?" Steve blanched at the thought of public speaking.

His wife, Cousin Michelle, changed the subject by asking about the Feast of Seven Fish. Before you or anyone else could truly answer, Uncle Lee was overpowering everyone to give his explanation; trying to make a joke at the end about a Dutch oven by Baby Jesus' manger that burned him or something. You gasped when Mikey lobbed a fork at him, making a buzzer noise while he did.

"Oh," Carmy realized when you did, stretching his arm out to extend over you like a seatbelt; fork clattering to the floor.

"Did you just throw a fork at me!?"

"I did!" Mikey sang, chuckling to himself. "See, that's the thing, Lee, see, 'cause... Y-You see what you did, right? You remember you already bitched about the Dutch oven. See, you did that before."

"Michael," Cicero tried to diffuse, but Mike was deflecting like usual.

"And you fucking cut Peach off," Mikey snarled. "Trying to prove you're the smartest, right? Wanna answer a question that she'd answer the best? Last I checked, she studied different religions in college, so, why the fuck would you want to answer - instead of Peach - if not to just make a repeated, shitty joke?"

It made Carmy now bark, "Mike, hey, don't bring Peach in this, okay? Please, just - just chill out."

But Lee was just getting started. He was scolding Michael, and in the process, stuttered just a bit, but it was enough of a visible weakness. Mike started mocking Lee for his words and delivery, just angry at the 'uncle' without knowing directly what truly bothered himself. In fact, riding high on his angry adrenaline, Mikey looked over and asked for Fak's fork, but the tattooed family-friend wasn't too willing to hand it over; hoping this would pass and settle.

Mikey just reached for Fak's fork himself, promising he just wanted to borrow it. Yet he launched it in the air to throw at Lee again, the entire table voicing their discomfort and displeasure. Everyone tried to diffuse the tension; desperate to muddle the tension enough so it did not, at the least, escalate.

"Carmy," you worried, holding his protective arm, "we should do something. I can get Mikey out of here - "

"No," he muttered sharply, "you don't need to be so physically close to that kind of behavior."

You felt the air shift when Mikey told Lee he could throw forks if he wanted to because they were in his father's house. The tension brewed and your boyfriend looked more and more uncomfortable; leaning into his side enough to get him to do the same and lean into you while both sat rigidly.

Now Lee lit into Mikey in front of everyone about how he was living with his mother still, borrowing money from her and anyone else who listened to Mikey's "bullshit". Now Cicero was pushing back at Lee, not appreciating the turn of events after being labeled a "sucker" by Lee only moments prior.

However, Mikey stepped back in, assuring Cicero it was "fine" that he wanted to mouth off - and Lee angrily repeated it. But he was far from being over; starting a new tangent, calling Mikey a loser. Then he started to throw the man's drug use in his face, telling Mikey to look through the fog and understand that there'd be consequences if he threw another fork.

It was quiet.

Nobody said a word as they all waited for Mikey's reaction. Carmen appeared on high alert, waiting for someone to make a move in case he had to jump in. Mikey asked Pete for his fork, picking it up, and creating a new tidal wave of voices all begging Michael not to do shit. To put the fork down. To not do a fucking thing. Over all the voices, it was Sugar's that cut above; reminding her brother she loved him, begging him not to do this.

Stevie giggled nervously, apologizing for it - claiming he giggled when uncomfortable. But Mikey encouraged him NOT to apologize, to fucking giggle and, "enjoy this," 'cause, "this is fun!"

You were so fucking nervous for whatever was to come.

Carmy's one arm was extended over you, the other crossed over his own body to hold your hand through the arm of the chair he sat in. Cicero tried to diffuse everything, Carmy's voice snapping support; but nothing was truly registering in Mikey's brain. In fact, he stood, and Lee flinched when he moved as if to throw the fork; guffawing at and mocking the man's reflexes. This only created an opening for Lee to, again, take shots at Mike's drug use; claiming his flinch was a reflex, something someone had when their nerve endings weren't fried - like a junkie's. Naturally, it caused an entirely new fight.

One where, during which, Mike brayed and screeched like an animal; and by the end, it was Lee telling Michael to throw the fucking fork so he had an excuse to rock his shit. At this point, you were ready to scream and support the violent display if just to get this over with. Lee snarled and repeated that Mikey was "nothing", and for a moment, you thought all hell was about to break loose.

Yet you wouldn't ever know. "There she is," Cicero clapped, directing the attention towards Donna as she entered at long last. You looked at Carmy and squeezed his hand, leaning in to quickly peck his lips in reassurance. The table clapped for their drunk host, watching her dance to her seat with a full glass of wine and burning cigarette; asking them all what she missed.

"I missed something," she grinned. "Peaches? What'd I miss?"

"Hmm? Oh, uh," you cleared your throat, "we were just discussing the tradition of the Feast of Seven Fishes."

"Boo," she pouted.

"Actually, Ma, Stevie, uh, Stevie was about to say grace," Mikey deflected.

"Not Peach, who studied religion?" Lee mocked.

"Oh, honey, that would be so cool," Donna nodded at you.

"I think I'd like to hear Stevie's prayer," you smiled, "but if he fucks it up, I'll take over."

Donna giggled before sniffling and composing herself while Michelle reassured her husband enough to encourage him to lead the family prayer. You half-listened, distracted by your boyfriend's body language. His hand still held yours, but now, he was sitting up with the other hand covering his mouth. The table was shockingly quiet as Stevie spoke, everyone listening; liking his impromptu speech about love, family, holidays, and bears.

By the end, everyone was softly complimenting the man; his wife hugging him; Mikey even voicing a compliment. However, you were distracted by Donna's reaction as she sniffled her tears, wiped her face, and took deep, dramatic sighs. Cicero laid his hand on her shoulder in comfort, but Donna picked up her cig and muttered, "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter."

"Oh, Donna," Michelle cooed.

"It doesn't," she whispered.

As the table took turns trying to assure Donna that everything was gorgeous, you noticed the rigid way Carmy sat. "Baby," you whispered, watching him glance at you before leaning back a bit and wrapping his arm around you in an effort to remain close. However, before anyone could do anything, Sugar was asking those two words that triggered her mother:

"You okay?"

"Oh, my God," a few people muttered softly, Carmy and Mikey looking the most distraught by her words. Your lips pursed in nerves, watching Donna like a ticking time bomb; Carmy's hand sweating, leaving you anxious.

"Oh, Natalie," Donna sneered, "Rose Berzatto, do you know how much I fucking hate when you ask me that?"

"Okay," Sugar whispered, bowing her head, averting her eyes.

"Do you know," Donna enunciated, "how much I fucking hate - "

"Let's go upstairs."

" - that you have to do that!"

"Okay," Sug whispered again.

"D-Do you ask the rest of these people if they're okay?"

"No."

"N - " Donna stuttered, revving up. "Do I not look okay, Natalie?"

"Not really," Michelle answered as if without thought she had verbalized it, shaking her head.

You wanted to step in, you did; you own mother was an unmedicated, raging narcissistic, bipolar maniac with a drinking problem. You knew how to handle people like this... But this wasn't your fight, this wasn't your family; you were a mere guest, there to support your boyfriend in any way you could.

Donna glared at Michelle as Sugar offered to go upstairs again. However, the matriarch snapped, "Oh, fuck you, Michelle."

"Hey, hey, hey, hey," Carmy tried to rein his mother in.

"I didn't mean it like - "

"Do I not look okay? Did I not just bust my ass all day for you motherfuckers!?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Michelle rushed, looking down - like the others.

"This!" Donna stood, both hands gesturing to the table, "Is beautiful! Am I okay!?" She whipped around to glare at her daughter. "Am I okay!?" And then... She glared at you, "Well, let's ask, are you okay, Peach? Huh? Are you okay not having family invite you around for the holidays so you come here to fill a void and overcompensate by inserting yourself where you're not even wanted?"

You froze, brows furrowing. What had you done to deserve this unprovoked attack? You were used to it from your own mother, but that was because you were her child and it was an easy attack. This, however, was someone without blood relation laying into you about some deeper-seeded insecurities. Sure, you missed your family, but they were wildly unpredictable, unsupportive, unwelcoming, judgmental, harsh, and constantly at your throat about things that they had no business having an opinion on in the first place. It was better you stayed away - something Carmy still had to reassure you about, so to hear his mother use it against you stung beyond words.

"Hey, hey, woah," Cicero tried, Mikey voicing his own displeasure, but Carmy's was the most prominent.

"Don't bring Peach into this, Ma, please - "

"Are you motherfuckers okay!?" Donna screeched, silencing them all. "Are you okay, Lee?" She mocked. "You didn't do shit! This is fucking gorgeous!" She glared around the table she had gestured at, then, picked up a plate as she roared, "FUCK!" Then she smashed the plate to the floor, "YOU!"

You didn't flinch when you heard the shatter, instead, reaching a hand up to hold Carmy's cheek and keep him turned from the sight. One of his hands held your elbow, a way he communicated to assure you that he liked your touch.

"Fuck you!" Donna directed at the table again. Then, she muttered and pointed at Sugar, "Fuck you." Donna made her exit, sobbing, "Fuck you, Natalie."

The door slammed and you were left in a tense, ear-ringing silence. Slowly, your hand drifted off Carmy's cheek to just sit in silence, both your hands holding his. Nobody was sure what to say, and frankly, nobody wanted to be the first who broke the silence...

Until Lee exhaled deeply and opened his mouth - like he was some prominent member of the family, "Well, I guess we all knew that was gonna happen. So it's out, and, uh, maybe everybody - everybody can relax, huh?"

Your head shook.

"Yeah, that's, uh... That's the worst I've ever seen her," Michelle noted.

You wanted to snap that the mentally ill deserved kindness and respect like every other person. Perhaps they require a different sort of understanding, but you know what? Humans are humans for many reasons, one being the ability to empathize, and it wouldn't kill them all to try and offer Donna more understanding.

Especially in times of high stress!

However, nobody got to comment because Mikey let his temper flare from Lee's words. He picked up Pete's fork and lobbed it at an unsuspecting Uncle Lee; the metal utensil clattering to the floor, making Lee immediately snap, "You fuckin' piece of shit!"

Mikey rose to meet the challenge, purposefully overturning the poker table used as an extension off the "main" table; sending everything shattering to the floor as the Fak Brothers had to hold either enraged man back. It was a frenzy: Mikey and Lee yelling, Brothers holding them back, Cicero, Michelle, and Steve standing to get away from the fight as Cousin Richie directed pregnant Tiff to go with Uncle Jimmy.

Carmy rose, too, but you shot out of your chair, pleading over the noise, "Don't, please, not you."

He sighed at you, remaining put as you watched the escalated fight wage in the dining room. Richie was caught in the middle, trying to retain space between the feuding men; but it was all so very surreal due to Mikey just literally screaming to make himself feel big, bad, and heard. All of a sudden, in the very next room, there came a distant scream before a fucking car came barreling through the living room wall.

You had flinched into Carmy out of shock, and for a moment, nobody even so much as fucking breathed. Mikey was the first, approaching the car and begging for his mother to open the door; asking her what she had done; to please open the fucking door. Sugar remained seated, rooted in her spor; Carmy only moving like a zombie to get a better look - not believing his eyes. Everyone else was in shock and you just felt something click into place in your heart, mind, and gut.

No, you mother had never driven a car through the house, but you weren't a stranger to dramatic displays.

"Okay, okay," you cleared your throat, slipping past Carmy to moved for Mikey. "Hey, hey, hey, hey," you caught hold of him, pulling him off the vehicle, "you need to step back, okay? I'm gonna get it open, I'll get her to a hospital."

"No cops," Richie snapped.

"No cops," you agreed, "hence why I'll take her."

Mikey only shuffled when you stepped up, picked up a brick from the rubble, and with pristine accuracy and strength, shattered the back, drivers side window. Moving swiftly, you reached around to unlock the driver's door - yelping when Donna literally bit you.

"Fuck's sake, stop biting!" You snapped, unlocking the door and wrenching your arm free as you opened the door at the same time. "Donna, hey, hey, hey," you knelt, "you hurt? Hey, Donna, it's Peach, c'mon, I need you to tell me if you're hurt!"

She only cackled manically as she tried to stave you off.

You steeled yourself and lifted up only to keep at a bend so you could scoop Donna out. She started thrashing and you had to set her down, groaning, letting Mikey step in.

"She needs to get checked out right now," you told him.

"C'mon," Jimmy agreed as he stepped up, "I'll drive."

Mikey nodded in agreement and carried his mother out of the house, allowing you to sit in the car and shut it off. When you stood and looked around, there was still a heavy air of shock. Glancing at the damage behind you, you figured maybe you could back the car out so you could start cleaning.

"Richie, why don't you take Tiff home, I'm sure she's exhausted," you recommended softly.

"Nah, I'll help clean," he told you.

"Sure?"

"Yeah," he sniffled.

"Mind helping me get the car, you know, out of the living room?"

"Tell me what to do, baby girl."

Richie drove as you sat passenger, directing him; the two of you working to get the car in reverse and out of the wall. You got out to direct him the rest of the way, and left the car in the garage. When you got back in, you noticed that Sugar and Carmy were both gone, and you went into what your boyfriend called "Mama Bear Mode."

Tiff was allowed to rest upstairs, Michelle and Stevie left, and the Fak's left to go get you tarps and other equipment from their house since all stores were closed. You went outside and fought the cold to grab a wheelbarrow from the community garden shed about half a block away, and bringing it to the hole. Richie grabbed some snow shovels and dust pans and brooms, and together, you got to work on cleaning. It took the better part of a 3ish hours, things going a little faster when the Faks returned; helping pick up, sweep, and dump the material out of the house. They brought ladders and huge tarps, getting up to the wall to start installing the material to prevent the horrendous draft sure to come in.

Several times, the boys told you to sit - but you couldn't. So, you worked. And when it was done, you let the men to sweep the remains as you noticed the dining room still in disarray. Any layers of clothing you wore were shed, hair pulled off your neck and away from your face; preparing for the longest clean-up job you'd know.

You stored all food, organized the dirty dishes with the ones in the kitchen still, then worked on clearing space. The table was freed and you took advantage to lay out some bath towels, then getting to work. The reason you had organized the dishes was because you could wash all plates and set them in the drying rack; when done, you'd use a separate towel to dry the dishes and stack them on the dining room table.

Same for all saucers, utensils, glasses - water cups, wine glasses, and anything someone used for a stronger liquor.

Your feet ached, back protested, ears rang with the aftermath of the night. Richie took Tiff home, the Faks heading out as well; leaving you alone in the Berzatto house with only Carmy and Sugar.

You still worked so they wouldn't have to later.

Dishes stacked on the table, your fingertips pruned from the water, the sink decently filthy from food-waste. You didn't notice the time had passed until a pair of arms came wrapping around your waist - making you jump from being startled. But the tattoos on the hand was enough to assure you the man's identity; lips finding purchase on the slope of your neck and shoulder.

"You don't have to do this," Carmy whispered.

"I'm almost done," you promised, setting another bowl to the rack. "Where you been?"

"With Sugar. She was pretty upset, so, Pete and I were with her."

You nodded, "Good. She okay now?"

"She's asleep."

"You should be, too."

"You know I don't like sleeping without you," he sighed, and you felt his frown. "I'm... I'm really sorry."

"For what?"

"For us coming this year."

"I'm not," you promised. "It's okay, we'll take it in stride."

"It shouldn't be like this."

"No, it shouldn't. You deserve better, Carmy," you whispered, leaning back into his embrace - his arms tightening. "Heard from Mikey?"

"Yeah, he said the ER was still running a few tests," he sighed. "Might be another hour or more."

You nodded, "Gimme another few minutes and I'll be done."

"No, you won't," he chuckled. "Lemme help."

"Wanna dry?"

"Got me doin' dishes again, huh?" He smirked.

You matched it, "Take you back to the good ol' days?"

Carmy nodded, and for a few minutes, you worked in silence. It went smoother with help: you washing, him drying. When all was washed, you drained the sink with the garbage disposal, washed the basin out, and then started cleaning off the counters, stove, microwave, and any other appliance or surface Donna might've splattered on. Carmy noticed your system of dishes and did his best to match it, then mopping up the floor.

When you were both done, it was well past midnight and your adrenaline was waning. You eyed your boyfriend for a long moment, slowly approaching him after drying your hands; mimicking him from earlier and wrapping your arms around his middle. You felt Carmy give a long sigh, dropping one of his hands to hold yours on his stomach. "I love you," you reminded softly.

Carmy turned slowly, facing you with a soft, ginger expression. Both his hands rose to ghost over your cheeks, whispering, "I'm so fucking in-love with you."

Your smile was easy, "Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Good."

He smirked, placing his forehead to yours. "Things got a little crazy," he whispered, "but I'm really glad you were here with me."

"I promise you, Carmy, I don't want to be anywhere else."

He sighed, pulling away to admire you for a long moment. "Even when Ma attacks you outta nowhere?"

"Even then," you promised softly. "Carmy, you forget, I had a mother very similar. Our relationship won't ever be the same, but the times I was around her, it taught me to walk on eggshells around someone. You're not alone in this and I promise, it doesn't scare me."

"Scares me..."

You nodded, stepping into his embrace, "I know, baby, I know. I'm so sorry. It'll get better, y-you'll find ways to deal with it all. Okay? I'm here with you."

His arms tightened, muttering, "Don't leave me, too."

"Not even if you beat me off with a stick," you teased. "Do you wanna go to bed, Cream?"

"Please," he groaned.

"You go up, I'll be there soon."

"You're not comin' up with me?"

"I think someone should be up when they get home."

Carmy sighed, "Probably..."

"Go to sleep," you encouraged, "I'll be up when they get in. I'll make sure Donna gets to bed, all right?"

"Nah, nah, I'll wait with you. Lemme grab some pillows and shit for us."

You didn't stop him, knowing you couldn't even if you tried. So after doing one last loop around the house, cleaning whatever needed it, you met Carmy in the second sitting room (the one Donna didn't drive into). He had a couple of pillows down and a comforter, changed into a pair of sweatpants and a muscle tank top. "Give me a minute to get changed," you whispered against his lips, hearing him hum in agreement.

You brought an overnight bag in case you were too tired to drive, now grateful for being "over prepared".

When you were matching in loungewear, you crashed on the couch with Carmy under a cushioned blanket. He was laid down the expense of the couch, you nestled between him and the back cushions. "How'd you do it?" He mumbled.

"Hmm?"

"Deal with your ma?"

"Put a lot of distance between us, enforced boundaries even if it made me the bad guy. Started therapy, read a lor of self-help books. All in all, I learned she was abusive in a different way and it affects me and all my relationships."

He sighed, "Think i gotta do the same."

"What's that?"

"Create distance... Think New York's far enough?"

"It'll have to be," you mused, snuggling close as Carmy picked up with phone. He mindlessly scrolled through his social media, you watching; the exhaustion catching up to you both, making you start to doze, but abruptly woke up when the front door burst open.

"I got her," Mikey waved you both off as you tried to yank off the tangle of blanket, assisting his drugged-up mother to her room after kicking the door shut.

When he returned, you and Carmy were sat up in interest. He sighed and tapped a cigarette from the carton, telling you both, "She's okay, minor concussion and shit... Nothing we can't handle, right? I'll be back." He excused himself out the front door.

You spared Carmy a look, frowning when those wide, baby blues locked with yours. "She's okay," you reminded softly, "and I'm here with you." You saw the fear flash in his eyes. "Carmy, you're not like anyone in your family - you're not like anyone I've ever known. You won't end up like them, you're not gonna slip off the deep end 'cause of their curse. It's sink or swim, and fuck's sake, I've got an extra life preserver, okay?"

He smirked, "What would I do without you or your analogies?"

"Get really boring advice," you teased, letting him kiss you. When you pulled back, you whispered, "She won't ruin you. I won't let anything tear you down."

He paused for a long while, nodding, "Think we should go to New York, then."

"I think so, too. You can't linger here, Carmy, or else you're going down with them all and I can't do anything to help. If we stay here, Cream, I'm afraid for what it'll do to us, and if you stay with your family, there's no telling what they'll do or make you feel." You told him softly, "Don't let them step in the way of what you want, Carmy. Don't let them dictate your life anymore than they do. You deserve a life, you deserve to live away from this toxic bullshit - to truly find and establish yourself without their extra dead weight."

He nodded sadly, wiping a hand down his face.

His eyes bulged naturally, and now, you could see clearly the red tinge from repressed tears and the swollen, blotchy skin from him rubbing so frequently.

"Carmy?" You waited until his eyes met yours. "Just because they're your family doesn't mean you're gonna end up like them. You're aware of the stress, turmoil, and abuse that's generated, and with this knowledge comes the ability to break cycles. Baby," you whispered, resting your foreheads together, "you are not the same, you can always choose to do better... To be better... To recognize slippery slopes and pull yourself back. They're your blood, yes, but that doesn't automatically mean you guys are the same now - or that you'll become like them in the future. You're different, Carmy... You're so different, you're going to do amazing things - they'll all see. And one day, I'll tell you, 'Told you so,' but it can all start today, if you want."

"You're right," he agreed, sighing deeply as he pulled away from you. "I do want that - I want us to get away and go live. We'll go..." He nodded in assurance, sniffling before pecking your forehead, "We'll go to New York and get the fuck away from this bullshit. It's not healthy, can't sustain ourselves here."

"For the time being," you corrected, "because never say never when thinking of returning home. But we've still got a lot of life to live before we settle down, right?"

"Right," he whispered, staring at you like you hung the moon and stars. "What would I do without you, Peach?"

"I imagine you'd be bored as hell," you teased, pecking his lips.

When Mikey returned, he found Carmy sprawled out on the couch with his arms tightly caging you to his chest; both looking utterly exhausted from the hectic holiday. He almost felt guilt for the rush to his blood from the drugs he used outside, knowing neither of you would be proud of him, and seeing you both look so at-peace solidified in his mind that he wouldn't burden either of you with his woes. So he vacated the front lobby just as your head lifted in confusion - feeling as if you had been watched and waking up.

However, when your burning-for-sleep eyes didn't see anyone, you settled back against Carmy.

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The Bear masterlist

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