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queers-gambit · 9 months

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God's Plan

prompt: your boyfriend carries the worst parts of his job home, bringing to life one of your deepest-seeded insecurities. or when Carmy calls you clingy.

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

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 3.3k+

note: she's short. she's to the point. author doesn't want to hear a GODDAMN THING about "glorifying" toxic relationships. shut the fuck up, eat your cereal, read the fic or just scroll away.

warnings: cursing, small angst, short fic, author mildly gave up, hurt with no real comfort, allusion to toxic family relationship, insecurity, not edited.

part two: Two to Tango

browse Clingy Baby collection masterlist here

"Hey, what're you still doin' here?"

You glanced up from your computer, smiling at your coworker, "Just trying to get the study notes finished so they can be used for the analysis."

"Okay...? But you realize what time it is, right?"

You hummed, glancing at the analog clock, "Just about 7?"

"Yeah, so, go home," she chuckled. "Work's still gonna be here tomorrow."

"I'll see you then," you dismissed softly, watching her smile and turn away from your desk. You tried to get back into work, but the truth was, you felt overly burned out, but still wanted to work because it'd make you feel better being "good" at your job.

So, in reality, you didn't get home until 10:56 pm, yet still beat Carmy. You ate something simple, cleaned up, got a shower, and crashed into bed. You didn't know the time, but Carmy eventually came home; his arm heavy around you when settling for sleep.

You were the first up and out the door the next morning, just barely seeing Carmy when he got up for coffee. You managed a single kiss before rushing away, needing to get to work on time. When you got there, your entire morning was blocked for client meetings, then you took lunch, later, team meetings, and then the last hour or so of work was meant for individual recreation.

Another day of staying late, trying to finish work you thought was important. Another day of getting home late, missing your man, going to bed, and only seeing him the following morning.

However, this time at work, your boss told you that the analysis meetings were pushed back by a week... So, technically, you stayed late and busted your ass for no literal reason! And your coworker's entire cup of coffee spilled on you. And your Outlook email was under maintenance, so, you couldn't really work. And then, to top off a really shitty week, your car was hit in the parking lot and now had a huge fucking dent.

You were beat.

You were overwhelmed.

You were miserable, stressed, righteously confused.

You didn't stay late that night. Instead, you left at a normal hour and texted Carmy:

what time do you think you'll be off?

He replied when you got to your car:

maybe around 8?

You sniffled, nodding, answering:

okay, see you when you get home.

As you exited the parking lot, he replied:

what? you're off?

And you answered:

yeah, couldn't stand being there much longer. think you could get off a little early?

When you made three turns, he sent back:

i'll try, peach 💙

When you got home, you felt utterly defeated. Life felt like a never ending shitshow that refused to alleviate most of the stress you forced to endure. You were in tears by the time you got in the door, angrily stripping and getting a long, hot shower. You cried a little longer. When you got out, you got dressed in cozy shorts and one of Carmy's sweatshirts; going about a few household chores when you realized it was already past 9.

You didn't really want to, but you texted Carmy again,

hey, are you gonna be much later?

You made a simple meal, eating it in silence. When you were doing dishes, Carmy answered,

i don't know, going over menu items with syd. text you on my way home

You just went to bed, exhaustion from the week catching up to you.

Sometime later, you felt Carmy crawl into bed beside you. You were only half awake, but still turned over and nestled into his chest, hearing him sigh. "You're home late," you mumbled.

"Sorry f'wakin' you, Peach," he whispered, pecking your forehead. "You good, baby?"

"S'been a long fuckin' week," you squeezed him.

He sighed, "Sorry it was rough, Peach, but hey, hey, back up a little, 's kinda warm."

"But I haven't seen you."

"I know, but it's just warm. We'll cuddle in the morning, okay?" You only sighed and turned back over to face away from him. You resettled with your pillow, just settling when he asked in a hardened tone, "You mad?"

"No, Carmen, go to sleep."

"You sound mad."

"I'm not."

"I don't mean to piss you off, it's just been a long night f'me and I don't want to cuddle right now," he said in a sharp tone that made your stomach coil and churn.

"Shut up, I'm not mad, Carmen, go to sleep."

He scoffed, your irritation spiking. "You're really fucking mad 'cause I don't want you laying on me right now?"

"No, Carmen, Jesus - "

"Callin' me fuckin' Carmen doesn't help," he snapped.

You sat up and turned to him, "You want me to be mad? Maybe I'm a little pissed off that I've barely seen my boyfriend this week! Not like you've made an effort to speak to me, but I've had a pretty shitty time at work, too - so, excuse the fuck outta me for feeling disappointed!"

"Disappointed in fucking what, Peach? In not wanting t'cuddle right now?"

"Maybe, yeah! I'm upset, stressed out, maybe I just wanted some comfort, God! Now you're all up in arms, I just wanted to go to sleep - but no, you want to pick at me!"

"Oh, Jesus, fucking Christ! You couldn't just talk to me about you having a shitty week, you gotta be laid up on me? When the fuck did you get so Goddamn clingy and desperate for fucking attention? Huh? So fucking desperate for love? Sorry you had a shitty week, darling, but you're not alone in that. Sorry if it's fucking hot and I just want to sleep."

Feeling yourself fighting a losing battle because he wasn't listening, you just sighed, "Okay, Carmen."

He scoffed again, turning over to face away from you, "Know what? Fuck you, sweetheart."

You stared at his back for a long minute, feeling shocked by his words. "You can be such a fucking dick, you know that?" You snapped, standing from bed.

"And you can be a dramatic bitch."

"Yeah, that's me, the bitch you chose, huh!?" You rolled your eyes and nodded sarcastically; taking the blanket from the end of the bed, figuring he wouldn't miss it since he was so fucking hot. With only your phone and charger, you went out to the living room and crashed on the couch; covering up and crying quietly into a pillow from the overwhelming stress built in your chest. You felt guilt plunging your stomach, tearing it apart; feeling as if it were your fault for having physical touch as a love language.

Sleep evaded you that night. About an hour before your alarm, you called in sick and shut your phone off, resettling in misery as Carmy left the bedroom for work. You didn't move, never opened your eyes. However, they popped open in surprise when Carmen shoved your shoulder, "Hey."

"What?" You muttered.

"You're late for work."

"Called in."

He snorted, "Yeah, must be nice."

You didn't say anything else, feeling utterly defeated by his sharp words. The lack of response made Carmy pause and glance over at you from the kitchen, honest surprise coloring his system because he usually knew you to bite back. But you were quiet and still, the only indication you were even alive being the slow drag of your shoulders.

He let the door slam after he left for work, and you instantly sobbed. What you didn't know was that Carmy had come back, forgetting something mundane, and came to a halt outside the door when he heard you crying. He felt guilty, but Carmy wasn't usually one to confront problems; he instead ran away, like always.

After a night of exhaustion, you finally cry yourself to sleep.

When Carmy got home that night after work, he found you still huddled on the couch. After a look around, he realized you hadn't moved all day; nothing to eat, nothing to drink... He wanted to wake you but still felt so fucking irritated from his job that the idea of reconciling with you felt far fetched. So, he did what he did best and isolated himself by going to the gym for a few hours.

You still hadn't woken up when he got back.

So, he just went to bed; hating sleeping alone but hating his pride more because it refused to let him get up and go get you. Carry you to bed. Smother you in apologies. Beg for forgiveness. He was cold that night.

You were awake around 4 am.

The entire apartment felt as cold and aloof as your boyfriend. You felt so silly for still being there, knowing you paid for an apartment of your own, but liking that Carmy's place was closer to your work. And he never asked you to leave, in fact, the times you went home, he was calling you within hours to beg you to come back because he hated sleeping alone.

Whatever happened to that lad? The one who was so in-love with you that he would desperately ask you to come "home" to him? Who was this man now? Who called you clingy, desperate... A bitch.

You could only stand to make coffee, feeling powerless in this tension. You didn't want him to ignore you any longer, feeling like you'd drop to your knees for his forgiveness if it would end this feud; but you weren't so naïve. You spent several long minutes mentally prepping yourself for more anxiety, telling yourself you could handle the day if you just powered through it. Everything should be fine so long as you didn't do anything else to upset him, as long as you didn't do anything to warrant him yelling at you - again.

You finally decided on an emotion, since you could feel so many at any given point in time, and since this situation was one you've never encountered before. Carmy had brought forth one of your biggest insecurities and then smashed it in your face like punk-ass siblings did to your birthday cake. You decided you were hurt by his words, tone, and actions; you were hurt by the man you loved unconditionally, and that was a terrifying thought on its own. He was once a man you thought couldn't do any wrong, to now being a man you were unsure of how to even speak to; fearful, as you once were as a child, to upset him and create hostility directed at you.

Carmy often forgot he didn't have a monopoly on toxic, complicated family dynamics, but being that Mikey was still so fresh for him, you kept quiet about your own issues in an effort to be a loving, supportive girlfriend. Yet even while trying not to upset anyone, to create tension, you somehow managed to. You felt your heart and soul shrivel into a withered raisin when you remembered your family and how they constantly put you down; saying that nobody wanted a girl like you who tried, tried, and tried again only to fail. They thought you were damaged goods, treated you as such and always smeared your name in the mud whenever you thought you had found someone to love you and be loved by you.

All that trauma was rearing its ugly head now, making doubt sink into the cracks of your relationship. No matter how hard he tried, Carmy couldn't ever take those words back once they've been said, and he had to understand that going forward, this would strain your relationship. Taking anger and frustration out on you was inappropriate, putting a bad taste in your mouth; making you wonder how the hell you'd ever move past this when his words circled your head like water draining from the sink.

Sometime around 9 am, you were curled up on the couch with your coffee and a book; Saturday dragging by slowly to allow you the reprieve of being off work. The bedroom door opened and you held your breath; sweat breaking out on your brow; heart stammering in your chest. When he came out, Carmy didn't look at you, which allowed you to watch him. He made a to-go cup of coffee, then shouldered his backpack before heading for the door.

"Carmy?" You asked softly in confusion, "I thought you were off today?"

"I am," he replied stiffly, "but I gotta run errands."

You didn't have time to respond before he was storming out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. You blinked in shock, confusion plunging your heart to your feet as you realized he didn't ask you to join him, in fact, he didn't appear to want to tell you his plans until you had to ask directly when he was walking out the door. You felt terrible, more tears swelling in your eyes at the discord your boyfriend prolonged.

Something in your heart snapped and you stood from your seat. With anger coursing through your veins, you turned into a miniature tornado and quickly started gathering whatever you could get your hands on that belonged to you. You had enough, you felt hurt, yes, we established this, but then the disrespect started to overflow out of your heart to color your blood. Never linger where you're not wanted, you should never tear yourself down to that level. Never should have to second guess yourself, either - especially in a space where you're supposed to be safe.

You started to wonder: is it clingy if you made dinner and saved him a plate? Is it clingy if you did his laundry? What about cuddling? Is that clingy? Well, apparently! What else are you wrong about? If you texted him? Asked his opinion? What about if you held his hand - is that clingy, too? Probably!

Physical touch and quality time were your love languages, but after this reaction, you wondered if everything you'd do from now on would be judged? Would you be crucified for showing your love? For trying to participate in your relationship?

All day, you moved your stuff back to your apartment. All shoes, clothes, purses, make-up, haircare and skincare products - any and all period products, too. You left fucking nothing; going as far as to lay face-down the photo of your two on his bedside stand. You'd of taken it, too, but you felt sick at the thought so you left it for him. Sunday night, you didn't return to his apartment, and Carmy didn't call to say goodnight; both figuring the other was still pissed off. Your Monday was long and annoying, but once it was over, you had to admit, it was strange returning to an empty apartment, heat up leftovers, eat while watching some Netflix show, and then crashing into bed - moving mechanically.

Days passed uneventfully, albeit, a bit sluggishly. And then, Thursday arrived, and with it, the shit that would hit the fan.

You were enraptured in this book by Anne Tyler called "Dinner At The Homesick Restaurant," and couldn't stop reading it. You nursed a mug of tea, the outside darkening with an approaching thunderstorm that would talk to you in the silence and send bolts of lightning to illuminate the city. A shrill ringtone then played, making you jump slightly and glance at your phone only to see Carmy's contact name and photo.

You stare at your phone for a long moment, and then, after convincing yourself that ignoring him would only add fuel to the fire, answered quietly, "Hello?"

"Peach? Hey, uh... Are you, um, still at work?"

"No?"

"Where are you, then?"

"I'm home."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"I'm standing right here and you're not, baby, unless you got superpowers or something?" He chuckled nervously, hearing nothing on your end. "In fact, I, uh... I don't see any of your things. You move 'em?"

He'd never admit it, but your personal touch in his living space transformed it into a home; and now that they were all gone, he hated how cold, dreary, and grey the apartment felt.

"Carmy, I mean my home. You know? The apartment I still pay for?"

"Oh, well... Why're you there?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I had to bring my stuff back and leave it somewhere safe."

"It was safe here, Peach," he argued.

"Yeah, but it's your space and last thing I need is to be yelled at and insulted again for being clingy 'cause I left clothes at your apartment."

"Fuc'k's sake," You heard him hiss under his breath, bringing tears to your eyes. "You know I don't mind, I want you to leave shit here so it's easier on you to commute. Look, you know it's Thursday, right? Does our standing date night ring any bells?"

"Okay, but we haven't honored that in weeks? You know, 'cause you've been really busy."

"I thought we could get back into it tonight."

You sighed, turning the page in your book, "No, I don't think so, but thanks anyway."

He took a long pause, asking nervously, "What's wrong, Peach?"

"Nothing. Is there anything else, Carmen? I'm in the middle of shit."

"Oh, uh, n-no, I guess that's it. You comin' over tomorrow?"

"No. I told my brother I'd help him this weekend."

"But tomorrow's... Friday?"

"Yeah, that's how a calendar works. I have to travel to get to him," you scoffed.

"You didn't think to tell me?"

"Why would I?"

"You tell me everything! You don't think that's something I should know? That my girl's not even gonna be here this weekend?"

"Well, you're the one who said I was fucking clingy, remember!?" You finally snapped. "So, I'm giving you all that space you wanted!"

"Baby - "

"No, it's a great idea. We need space, Carmen; this isn't fair to either of us anymore," you spoke seriously, the line going quiet.

"What?"

"We need space from this relationship."

"I don't. I don't need space, Peach, baby, no, just listen, okay? I'm so sorry, I came home stressed out and I took it out on you. I'm sorry, I really am, this isn't what I want. Okay? I'm sorry. Just - come back home and we can - "

"No, you know what? I think I'm the one who needs this space," you snapped. "You said some pretty fucked up things, Carmen, that you can't ever take back, and now that I know, I can't un-know what you think about me. So, I need time to sort myself out."

"What're you saying? A-Are you breaking up with me?"

"Not yet, no."

"Baby, don't do this. C'mon, okay? I'm sorry, baby, I-I-I was wrong for what I said, I didn't - I didn't mean it! None of it, okay? Know I love you, baby, please, just come home, okay? I'm so sorry, I love that you wanna be close to me, I shouldn't've pushed you away. I'm sorry, okay? Please, baby, I'm so sorry. I need you, Peach, please. Just come home, we'll talk it through, I promise, no yelling - "

"I think you already said it all. Your words were 'clingy' and 'desperate'. Oh, and you also called me a 'bitch', so, I'd hate to be the bitch that makes your already stressful life all the harder."

"I didn't mean that - "

"I gotta go, Carmen, we'll talk later, okay? Goodnight."

He froze when he listened to those three distinct beeps that indicated you hung up on him. Confusion and hurt now seeped into the cracks of Carmy's heart; wondering when the hell he'd become so Goddamn self destructive to ruin the best thing he's ever had - you. The apartment might as well turned into ice with the way the light left, your departure suddenly haunting him.

When will these boys learn? The love of a good woman is rare, they'd only ever be so lucky as to think they deserve a woman like you. Nobody ever gets to guilt you for your love language(s) and then grovel for forgiveness. You deserve better, you deserve more; whether you could see that right now or not, you deserved to be loved in the best way for you. And sometimes, that means walking away from something you once thought was exactly what you wanted, but perhaps, never what you needed - call that God's Plan.

[ part two: ] Two to Tango

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

#carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto angst #the bear #the bear fx #fx the bear #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto fanfiction

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carmenized-onions · 18 days

Text

Doing Too Much. | House Call

logline; Appliances can reach their breaking point, when you push them too far. Same goes for people.

[!!!] series history, this is the sixth; First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth

[New Thing!!] Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin' added to.

portion; 4.8k

possible allergies; eatin' meat, besides that, we're pretty good actually. did somebody say calm before the storm....?

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (no pronouns, but girl is said a couple times, i believe.)

After this chapter, I'm entering my era of couch hopping as I move to a new city n start a new job. I'm really excited for the chapter after this one, so hopefully I actually get time to write it-- But that's just my lil warning if you're left rereading for like two weeks </3 But I'll def be stalking my activity/inbox so please do yap to me

Monday morning. The next morning after everything. Well, closer to noon than morning, at this point. You’re supposed to have, what, a work ethic this week? After the most insane weekend of your life? No. You’re lazing around and doing fuck all. No matter who calls. Well… Not completely no matter, but like, most people.

When you check your phone, you’ve gotten a text at 6:43 A.M. Unknown number. Ah. Carmen. You put him in as Carmy, and put his nickname as ‘Mister New York’. Listen, old nicknames Mikey ingrained in your brain die hard.

It’s a simple text, deeply un-romantic.

‘Connections Puzzle #342’

Then, four lines of four perfect categories. Flawless. Purple first, even. The hardest category. And then,

‘Morning’

Stupid. Incredibly stupid, to be enamoured, by this. You reply,

‘Good morning!’

‘Connections Puzzle #342’

And then a failed jumble of coloured squares, you get one out of four categories. What the fuck is 'dogleg' and since when has it meant taking a sharp turn? You follow that up with,

‘Fuck you.’

Aside from Carmen, you’ve actually gotten texts from a couple people. Your boss at Eden’s asking if you’re alright. What the fuck did Cicero say? Oh well. You tell him you’ve ‘been better, been worse. Will be okay by next week.’ Perfectly vague, and you still get wired your cheque and tip out. Alright, maybe Uncle J does deserve your free labour.

Speaking of, the next text on your itinerary is from Uncle J, just info for the winter nuptials of Vinnie and Mira. Oh yeah. Three-hundred guests, you remember that part. You also remember him saying it’d be an ‘easy gig’… He did not mention you’d be the only bartender. This is going to be a nightmare. Oh well. You text back that despite it being an open bar you get to put out a tip jar. He just reacts to it, ‘haha’. That sounds like a yes to you.

And then, adorably, a selfie from Syd, wearing the collar and pins you’ve gifted her, under a green sweater. Cutie. You hype her up accordingly.

Besides some texting though, Monday is relatively unbusy. No calls. No emergencies. No businesses knocking down your door for your services. You’re thankful for a break, letting the inertia set in, finally being able to relax after fix after fix after—

Tuesday comes, you get sent another perfect round of New York Time’s Connections around half past six in the morning, along with a good morning text. And again, you fuck it up. You send him your Wordle results this time, as an act of rebellion. You then ask,

‘How’s reworking the menu going?’

‘Hard to say’

‘Ask me tomorrow’

God he’s an awful texter. Horrifically dry. You know you’re down bad beyond a belief when you find that endearing. You spend Tuesday drowning and pruning your plants after depriving them for so long.

Plus working on your art piece for Carmy. You’re pulling out old film photos, a canvas, and a load of bleach—It’s like high school art class all over again— Surprise surprise, the handyman who loves to up-cycle is a mixed media artist. Who could’ve guessed?

While trimming a photo, an exterior of The Beef, a picture frame on your wall falls down behind you, you tut, turning your head to it, chastising the air. “Mikey! It’s a copy, relax! I’ve still got the original print…”

There’s every chance you’re insane— No, you’re definitely insane. But you’re allowed to be, your best friend died, you’re allowed to talk to the air as if he’s still around. Sometimes the timing of doors swinging open for you and things falling down are just too uncanny to not be a ghost.

Wednesday arrives, and again, just after 6:40, Connections results. And the Wordle, this time; plus a ‘Good Morning’. It looks like this is simply just your thing, now. Every morning, the second both of you get up, you send each other puzzles and wish a good morning. You don’t mind that. It’s nice to have a ‘thing’, with someone. With Carmen.

Part way through the day, around two o’clock, you get another text. Two, actually. From Carmen, in quick succession.

‘Are you busy?’

‘Don’t worry if you’re busy. Can call Fak’

You’re quick to reply, frankly deeply offended.

‘Are you fucking firing me????’

‘I’m gonna get ready. Text me details’

While getting dressed, you watch three dots bubble, bubble, bubble… He’s taking forever, just don’t look at it, you’ll get anxious for no reason. No jumpsuit today, you’ve got to switch it up every now and again. Navy cargo pants with the perfect number of pockets and zippers, and an orange Chicago’s Kindest shirt, tucked in. Hm. Looking in the mirror, hickey is still there. Lighter, but there. Foundation? No. You’ll sweat it off and that’ll just bring up more questions. If Syd asks you’ll just tell her you fell down the stairs… On your neck. She's not the type to confront anything remotely sexual anyways.

Speaking of Syd, before Carmen can text you back, she calls you, which is fair— Don’t leave a Carmen to communicate. You stick your phone in the crux of your neck and answer while you pack your utility belt. This feels nearly nostalgic. “What’s fucked?”

Carmen is in the background; you can hear the tail end of a sentence, grumbling. “—Don’t call—”

“My life.” She responds without missing a beat. “And also, Carmy’s stove and oven.”

“Oh.” You squint. “What the fuck happened?”

“Overuse? I actually don’t fucking know, it just stopped working. We plugged it in and out— He even reset his apartment’s breakers. I dunno what’s wrong with it. It’s probably got something to do with him putting his fuckin’ jeans in there.”

“…He what?”

You can hear him in the background, again, clearer this time, grimacing, “What are you doing to me?”

Syd does not mind him at all, continuing, “I know! He’s fucking weird!”

“He’s extremely weird.” You like him a lot. “I’ll be over soon, were you guys like, mid-cooking?”

“Yessir.”

“Christ, alright… I think I have a dual burner hot plate laying around somewhere, you want me to bring it—”

They both speak clearly this time, together, “Please.”

You’ve got a pile of things to give to them anyways, and maybe you miss Carmy’s face. Just a little.

Instead of just buzzing you in, Carmy comes down for you. When he sees you through the door window, carrying a cardboard box, he almost breaks into a full run. He’s somehow opening the door, grabbing the box from your hands, and chastising you all at the same time. “You should’ve left it in the car, I would’ve—”

You step in through the entryway and kiss his cheek, cutting him short. You can’t help yourself, it’s the first time you’ve seen him since and you feel like a giddy teen. The teenage girl in your head is no longer just in your head, she’s fully manning the station. “You’re very sweet. But it’s also not heavy.”

When he continues to be frozen, the regret starts to mount, “Is—Sorry, is that okay to do—?”

“It’s very okay to do.” He manages to reply, with haste. Nodding to himself. “It’s good.” He nods again, then marches off, expecting you to follow to the elevator. You do.

“What floor?”

“Eighth.” He sniffs; you press the button. He stands next to you, looking you up and down. He astutely observes. “Orange.”

“Yeah.” You smirk, looking back at him, “Turns out, businesses can have two colours in their designs.”

What’s a little roasting of fellow small businesses between two not just friends?

“Oh yeah?” Coy, smirking. Oh no. You’ve gotta get the teen off the controls. He tilts his vision to stare at your jacket. Ah. You opted to wear your Carhartt instead of his jean jacket.

“Didn’t wanna give Syd more questions.” She already guessed you’re a sugar baby, you don’t want to wrap Carmen in on that too. Especially since ideally in a month or two he’ll be your boss. Hm. The Bear is going to need an HR.

He hums, nodding. “We’re not telling Syd?”

“What’s there to tell?” You grin, crossing your arms. “You suddenly have free time, Bear?”

He takes a beat, thinking, then just takes a deep frustrated yet amused exhale. “I’m gonna fuckin’…” He can’t think of a threat. “…Get you.”

You snort, “You’re gonna get me?”

“Fuck you—!” “You’re gonna fuckin’ get me, Bear?”

“I—” He tries to hold a straight face, it doesn’t work. “Yeah, I am.”

“Can’t wait.” You nod, grinning, turning back to the doors. “You told me to ask how menu’s going tomorrow.”

“I did.”

“It’s tomorrow.” The door dings, opening on the eighth floor; you step out together. He switches his grip to hold the box in one arm. Alright Biceps, we don’t need to brag here...

“It’s… We’re getting there.” He grimaces. “Syd’s recipes are always… Almost perfect.”

“Ah.” You nod, you know your friend well enough to know where this is going. “And she fucks up one thing hard?”

“Mhm.”

“And when you tell her it’s okay and give her a hand she just feels worse?”

He nods. A touch surprised you’re right on the dot so quickly. “Everything ends up perfect, but I think she’s finding the edits…”

“Demoralizing.” You walk down the hall together, he nods. “I know what she needs, I’ll find an in.”

“You always do.” He hums, you walk just a touch ahead of him, unknowingly walking past his door. He pulls you back by the back of your jacket, making you stumble back into him. This seems to be this villain’s intention; as when you turn around, he’s quick to grab your chin and kiss you.

“It’s very good.” He emphasizes, again, before opening his door and acting like everything’s totally normal and fine. Since when did he turn the tables and make you the desperate one? Son of a bitch.

Ah. Actually, subtract any attraction you had in this moment— He lives like this? Books on the floor, by the window. Jeans on the dinner table, because they were in the oven. The kitchen actually looks alright— You’re almost certain that’s purely for utilitarian purposes while they’re working on the menu. This motherfucker better have a bed frame or him asking you to sleep over would be downright offensive. God, he’s wonderful. God, you’re an idiot.

You find Syd at the table, moping, head in hands. Carmen sets the box down, sitting beside her. You pat the top of her head. She silently moves one of her hands to go over yours. You nod. The silent exchange of girls who know.

“Yeah?”

She nods, grumbling. “Yeah.”

Carmen has no fucking idea what’s happening and he’s never been more intrigued by a near wordless social interaction in his entire life. What? You’re not even making eye-contact. What the fuck is happening?

You fish through the box with your free hand, grabbing a pot. You place it in front of Syd. “Look.”

She peeks through her fingers. A tiny but flourishing nursery pot of basil sits before her. You speak. “You’re gonna hyper-fixate on this basil I’m gifting you, and then you’re gonna crack back into it with the dual burner until I’m done fixing the oven.”

She nods, putting her hands in her lap, “Yes, Chef.”

You pull out a second nursery pot, setting it down for Carmen. “For you.”

“What for?”

“Basil grows like a motherfucker and it’s getting unhinged. I need to start pawning off to people that’ll make good use of it. A-K-A, chefs.” You look at Syd, pointedly, “Talented chefs.”

You hand off the heating pad— Wrapped in brown paper with a card tied to it, to Carmen. “For Nat.” You add, when he looks confused, “Can’t imagine I’ll see her sooner than you will.”

He looks even more confused, when you hand him a spray bottle full of reddish water. It’s one of the good spray bottles, too. Continuous. Carmen wouldn’t know the difference, but you do. “Rosemary. —Water, that is.”

He squints; you clarify, gesturing to your own hair. “You mentioned, losing hair, so— Thought I’d make some, with the trimmings of rosemary I had. Got ginger and cloves in it, too.”

Why have you trapped him in hell? You’ve remembered such a specific off hand from days ago and acted on it? And he can’t express the grandiose level of affection he feels right now? Are you serious? You’re the devil. You’re absolutely the devil. He just coughs out a ‘thanks’.

“And, the pièce de résistance,” You pull out the old ass, boxed up double burner countertop stove. “A stovetop that ideally fuckin’ works. It was my single claim to fame in my college dormitory.”

Carmen’s already opening the box. Sydney smirks, curiosity peaked. “Was that legal?”

“You a fuckin’ RA?” You grin, poking her forehead. “It was not. And that’s exactly why everyone loved me— Didn’t serve them fuckin’ hot pockets.”

The configurations of Carmen’s apartment would be great for literally any occasion besides the current one. The kitchen is narrow, and so, when you pull out the stove to check the back, there’s an estimated no fucking room left for Carm and Syd, so they sit at the dinner table with your stove top. You’d think they’d look like they’re doing a cute hot pot. No. They look like two conflicted and confused twelve-year-olds working on a science project.

So do you, honestly. Wiring is definitely more your speed than plumbing, but if you’re being honest, this is the first oven you’ve worked on without your dad, and you’re having a hard time remembering everything. There’s a lot of embarrassed Googling on your phone, when you're sure they’re not looking. They can’t know you’re even slightly incompetent!

You’re pretty sure it’s just a couple damaged wires, fried from overwork— Easy fix, if you had wire. You don’t. Slightly harder fix. But soldering is your bitch really, you’re in your bag. You look stupid, wearing chunky goggles and a respirator, but you’re in your bag, baby! What’s that one saying? Skills make you hot? That’s not a saying.

But it is true. When Carmen’s able to peer into the kitchen, quickly looking over his shoulder when Syd takes a moment to write a measurement or direction down, you look stunning. Respirator and all. You just look correct there, in the kitchen. His kitchen. So stunning he feels guilty. Do you find it annoying? Constantly fixing errors behind him? Probably. You say it’s not a lot of work, but that can’t be true.

“How’s The Bear, ‘sides menu rework?” You ask, raising your voice in the kitchen.

“S’good.” Carmen. “I’m in hell.” Syd. Not hard to tell which statue is lying, here.

Syd stutters on, “Nat’s takin’ care of baby Michaela— Which is very good and—and cool, actually.”

“But?”

“But we’re back to handling the business side entirely ourselves, for like— The next month. Maybe two? Fuck, are we doing the wedding without her?” Sydney almost burns her sauce, Carmen’s quick to move it off the burner.

He mutters, “Don’t even start to think about it. It’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna figure it out.”

“Oh yeah, wedding— Have you gotten your menu yet?” You call from the kitchen, muffled by your respirator.

“Oh my god!” Sydney exclaims, and Carmen is wincing. She can’t tell you things are going wrong; doesn’t she know that? You’ll fix it, if things are wrong. You always fix it. Fix him. You’re gonna put him in your phone as Carmy Bad News. If you haven’t already. Start a support group with Tif.

Syd continues, “They’re so fucking particular and somehow also vague—Like, ‘we want salmon and chicken’ for main course— What kind of preparation? ‘Surprise us!’ Okay, how about roasted chicken—? ‘Mmmm, no, not that’. I’ve been told ‘non quello’ at least ten times in the last four days.”

No, you’re witty. Bad News Bear. Fuck, that’s definitely his name in your phone, isn’t it?

“Fuckin’ nightmare. Y’know, I’m the only fucking bartender? For like three hundred guests? Thank God they’re not asking for a custom cocktail or anything, I’d lose my shit.”

Sydney laughs, and she steps back into her flow easily, reducing the sauce without burning it, now. She looks more serene than she has in days. What? How are you doing that? What are you doing? Are you casting a spell?

“Can you even fucking imagine what their couples’ cocktail would be?”

You groan from the kitchen, laughing in return, “Not you too, Syd! Must you make me work!?”

“C’mon maestro, make a cocktail!”

“Bleh. Uh… They give long island iced tea energy, but it’s a wedding so— Like a boozier negroni?”

“That sounds fucking disgusting.”

“I didn’t say it’d be good, I said it’d be their couples’ cocktail.” You’re both giggling, like school girls. It’s like you said— You become teens, together.

Despite the fact that Syd is making an incredibly complex dish, and you’re fixing an oven—His oven— Ridiculing the other impossible tasks set out for the both of you… Despite all of that, you’re laughing.

Carmen is, what, nearly thirty? A restaurant owner, with a full crew, who attends Al-Anon, and is only now truly registering the power of an unsolvable burden being shared. Not fixed, shared. Talking. Laughing. God, this all comes so easy to you, doesn’t it?

You finish soldering, test each burner, and the oven— All working, thank God. You quietly cheer in the kitchen, removing your respirator and goggles. “We’re good here! Fixed!”

“C’mere!” Syd calls out to you, and so you do. Eagerly. She hands you a fork. Unprompted, she does the thing. You’d missed the OG, really.

“Beef Oxtail, pressed in a Foie Gras casing, seared. Basted in a King Oyster mushroom sauce. Pureed greens on the side.”

“I never know what the fuck you’re saying.”

She pushes the side of your face with the palm of her hand. “Put it in your mouth and chew.”

You want to make some sort of kink joke, but you respect the already struggling man in the room and take a bite. Hm. Hm. You put a finger over your mouth, swallowing. “...Now it might just be my unrefined palate.”

“That’s why we have you try it.” Carmen pipes in. Syd nods, following. “It’s important to know the baseline.”

“…It’s got like,” You hand the fork to Syd so she can try it, while you think. “A bit of a bitter aftertaste? Which might be the… goal?”

Syd spits it out the second it touches her mouth, she shouts your name, your actual name— A rarity. She’s so terrified that she forgets the Walk-In bit she’s been in on all week. “I just fuckin’ poisoned you— Oh my god?! Are you good? That was— Fuck! You swallowed that?!”

She grabs your face like a concerned mother, also maybe to check if you have superpowers, you’re not sure. All you know is there’s a golden opportunity to make another sex joke and you have to hold back. Life is so unfair.

Carmen takes a quick taste, also spitting it out. “I’ve got it, Chef, don’t sweat.” Immediately looking to the drafted recipe card to see where they went wrong.

Syd almost squeezes your cheeks like a stress ball but thinks better of it, letting go, groaning, beyond frustrated at this point. “You shouldn’t have to fix it— I should fuckin’ have it, at this point.”

Carmen's trying to ignore how much he relates to the sentiment. He's not the focus, right now.

“We make mistakes, Chef—” “Syd.” You snap your fingers, pointing to her, interrupting Carmen. “Can you help me grab something, from my car? It’s kinda big.”

Carmen’s quick to chime in, already going to untie his apron, “I can—”

“No!” You look at him pointedly, trying to communicate through look alone. He kind of gets it? “It’s… Girl stuff.”

Syd squints. “You need me to help you carry a big girl thing?”

“…Are you fuckin’ helping or are you gonna poke holes?”

“What are you actually dragging me out for?”

“Technically I do actually need your help grabbing something, it’s just not a girl thing. And it's also not from my car.”

“Oh?”

You walk out of Carmen’s building with his keys, and gesture out to every apartment buildings treasure trove— The spot everyone throws their furniture when they move out and don’t know what else to do with it.

“Bookshelf!” There is actually one pristine looking bookshelf, a cheap one, definitely just something from IKEA. But it’s better than the fucking floor. “I spotted it on my way in, we’re gonna bring it up for Carm.”

She groans, hating the concept of manual labour, but still walks with you and grabs one end anyways. “Why didn’t you make Carmen carry his own bookshelf?”

“Because you need a fuckin’ pep-talk.” You pick the other end of the bookshelf up. It’s thankfully not that heavy. You walk backwards so you can keep facing Syd.

“…I don’t—” “Yes the fuck you do.”

She kisses her teeth, you frown. “What’s up, Adamu?”

“It’s just fucking annoying— I keep, I keep fucking it up. I keep—Keep—”

“Doing too much.”

She gives you a look, ‘are you serious?’, type look. You continue. “You’re doing too much. You’re not cooking like you.”

“I can cook like Michelin—”

“I never said you couldn’t. Watch your step.” You interrupt, walking over a bump in the sidewalk. “You can do star level shit, Syd. But that’s a grade, not a type.”

She kind of reels, at that. You continue, “You cook great complex dishes, you always have, I’ve tried them. But now, you’re all caught up trying to prove some shit, to Carmen, to—to— Who gives stars? The tires guy?”

She laughs, almost dropping the bookshelf. “Yeah, I’m trying to impress the tires guy.”

“Fuck you.” You snort, stepping up the stairs. “What I’m trying to say is, you should make what you want to eat, not what you think you should eat.”

She nods, you stop on top of the stairs, both taking a second to breathe. “…Thanks.”

You nod back, hands on your knees for a second before standing back up, opening the lobby door. “I’ll always be your cheerleader, Syd.”

“More like coach.”

“Can you let me have one hot girl career, please?”

When you get back up to Carmen’s, he’s already grimacing. You and Syd are split apart by the bookshelf standing between you in the hall. “Fuck is this?”

“It was free and I’ll clean it!” You press your hands together pleading. “C’mon, you can even put your jeans in it!”

“Jeans on a bookshelf?”

You turn to Syd. “Better than the oven.”

“I think he’s doing that to dry them.”

“I think it’s ‘cause he doesn’t own a dresser.”

“It’s both.” Carmen clicks his tongue, single-handedly picking up the bookshelf and carrying inside. Alright, does he need to show off this much? Whatever. It’s definitely not making you feel any type of way at all.

You squint, watching him walk further in his apartment, and then to Syd. You speak at the same time. “He stays doing too much.”

As promised, you wipe down the bookshelf, making sure it’s free of grime and roadside pests. Syd and Carmy work together in the kitchen, with a now functioning oven. You load the shelf up with the books on the floor— Thankfully they’re piled into categories already, so you don’t have to bother him about that.

You’re tempted to clean his living room, but that would probably be rude, right? Don’t want him to take it as you saying he’s a slob. But they are taking a while… Alright, you’ll just throw out trash. You won’t fold blankets or pick up dishes or anything. Just trash! No big! He can’t be mad at you for that.

You pile together the garbage, then sneakily throw it out in the kitchen trash can as fast as you can, before he looks. He’ll think he’s just sleep cleaning, or something. “How’s it goin’ in here?’

Carmen pipes up, eyes focused on the dish as Syd plates it. “Good.” Syd holds the plate in one hand, and silently corrals you with the other to sit at the table. You do. She sets it down the plate before you, handing you a fork and knife.

You look up at her expectantly. She shakes her head. “Eat first, this time.”

She looks serious, so you nod, cutting into the dish. It’s different from the last one. Instead of oxtail, it’s pastry. Or at least, a puff pastry exterior. You’re pretty sure it’s Pillsbury, you remember Carmen buying that, the other day, on your excursion.

Inside it, you believe is the beef oxtail, there’s other things, too. Some sort of sauce, some greens— Oh well, no time to bask in the cross section because Syd looks like she’s about to explode. You take a bite. You nod, chewing.

Syd starts, “Searing the duck caused the bitter taste— So instead of- Of searing the outside, I coated it in the mushroom sauce, the greens— Not pureed, this time, for texture. Your basil, too. There’s a crumble of feta, for a subtle tang. And then wrapped it all together in puff pastry, and baked. It’s sort of like, a varied take on a beef welling—”

“You made a fucking gourmet hot pocket?” You swallow, wheezing. The second you say this, Sydney’s focused face beams, laughing, like she’s just pulled off the most perfect prank of all time.

Carmen was so intrigued and focused on Sydney’s explanation, that you watering it down to hot pocket and being right makes his entire system reboot. He cannot stop smiling, aghast. He's been helping Syd make a hot pocket for the past hour?

“I told you to make what you want and—” wheeze “—you make a fucking hot pocket?!” You double down, laughing with her, she’s trying to defend herself but she can’t stop wheezing in tandem.

“I— I can’t fuckin’ stand you!” You snort, covering your face with your arm. “I hate your ass, oh my God, Syd.”

“Did—” snort “What did you think?” She recovers, slowly but surely.

You shake your head, handing her the fork. “It’s sick, Syd, obviously, it’s fucking perfect… Chef.” You tack on at the end, almost forgetting. “I’m not gonna be able to have an actual hot pocket, ever again. You’ve ruined my life.”

She takes a bite for herself, nodding. She does a small cheer, pumping her fist. “Let’s fucking go.” She points her fork at you— Purely on muscle memory, and you both instantly remember the days of her testing out recipes and you pairing them on first taste. She’d point her fork to you like a microphone. It was a fun game between two nerds.

It’s a reflex response for you, even now. “Barolo. Savory, dry, red. A young one, though. Light body. Could also do an Amarone, if you’re not buried in money.”

She hands the fork off to Carmy to try it, then writes the pairings down, mumbling, amusement still in her voice. “How the fuck do you do that?”

“I honestly don’t know. I think I have some wires crossed.”

“Fire, Chef.” Carmen swallows his bite. “We cannot call it a hot pocket on the menu.”

“Then what’s the point!?”

Leaving Carmen’s place is objectively the most awkward experience— But also the funniest. You offer to wait for Syd and drive her home— You’ll need a second to pack anyways while they make their business plans.

When you do offer, of course, Carmen stutters short, almost asking you again to sleep over or at the very least stay late, but saves it, realizing himself.

Syd accepts the ride offer. You pack up and wait for her to be done. When she is, Carmen offers to carry your things down with you both, in which Syd accuses him of thinking you’re both weaklings— He does not have a defense case for this, he has to let you go. You can tell he wants to kiss you at the door, and you do too. Sadly, you’re equally down bad, but he can’t know that…

You say your goodbyes, Syd helps you load your tools and hotplate in the trunk of your car. Your phone vibrates. Text from Mister New York.

‘Look up I’m on the balcony. 8 floors.’

You look up, sure as shit, he’s out there, cigarette in mouth. Unlit. He waves, you wave back. He texts again, in rapid succession.

‘Thank you’

‘For helping Syd’

‘And the oven and the hot plate and the bookshelf (not necessary)’

‘nbd + I think it’s v necessary’ Does Carmen understand acronyms? You’re risking it, here.

‘and cleaning my trash’ Sonofabitch.

‘ah fuck. I don’t think you’re messy!!! I just wanted to help!!!’

‘I know. You’re you. Be safe.’

Oh goddammit, stupid dry texter, saying something so gah. You jump as Syd taps the roof of your car behind you, getting your attention. Watching from a far distance, Carmen laughs, though you don’t notice it.

“Are we going?”

“Yes! Sorry!” You hurriedly pocket your phone, waving one last time as you get in your car. Syd sits beside you in shotgun, her pot of basil sat safely in her lap. You drive off.

You’re half way down the road, when Syd pipes up again. “So y’all are fucking, correct?”

You almost brake check the guy behind you.

“How do you fuckin’ do that!?”

the opening is dedicated to my dear friend and i who have sent our wordle results to each other everyday for the past like year and a half.

Things of note, one - people usually skip the shit up top-- I made a spotify playlist! Listen if you like, I'm not your dad.

Two, I know this is a self insert right, i know what I set myself up for-- Do you know the hell i am in as a syd x carmy girl writing scenes with both of them and it NOT being them? What have I done, to myself? The only coping mechanism I have is imagining in this universe Syd is a lesbian. And that is helping.

The hot pocket recipe-- Who fucking knows, if that would taste good? I think it would? In theory? I fucked with a dish from Daniel NYC, to make it into a bit. Would it work? ....Beef wellingtons do, I can't see why this can't???? Idk man.

Rosemary water w cloves and ginger does fucking work btw. I am part of the so stressed out i lost my hair brigade. Also basil does grow like a motherfucker.

We're seein' a little bit of that tenseness that comes with being in an 'almost relationship' both of them feel like they've got something they can fuck up now. Poor birds. They'll be okay. Probably.

I'm really excited for the next chapter, I don't wanna give shit away, but it's gonna be,,,,,, different. I haven't seen anyone try this kinda formatting on tumblr before, and I'm excited to see what you think. Between my moving and how complex the choreography of it is gonna be, it's gonna be a much longer minute between this chapter and the next, I fear. But listen, you already knew your ass was gettin' spoiled with a chapter every two days. Hehe.

As always, please come yap to me in the replies/inbox/dms/reblogs. I love to hear thoughts!! It sustains me, baby!!

Next Part

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear #the bear fx #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto x female reader

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oracle-of-dream · 4 months

Text

Photo Finisher

Minors DNI

Summary: Yechan is from the rookie idol group, 82Majors, and his managers have set him up in the studio to get some amazing photos. But he's heard of your other prizes for good behavior, so he's interested in your other services...

Warnings: Male Reader, Blowjob, facial, degradation, domYechan, cum eating

Wordcount: 1.7k

You spent your morning selecting the songs for the playlist vibe you needed for today's photoshoot. Rookie idols were always tricky to deal with. Most were scared so stiff that they could hardly count as models...

Today, Yechan from 82Majors was your muse. The appointment was a last-minute order from management, and someone must've paid a chunk of money to call you in before noon. It's a part of your contract that you don't have to work before noon without an extra fee determined based on your mood for the day. It was 8am, so you told your boss to push for 40% higher than your usual rate. This usually moved companies away to pick a later time, but your boss immediately texted you back, telling you to get ready.

It was ten minutes before the photoshoot was supposed to start. Your staff set up everything from lights, cameras, software, and canvases. There was murmuring in the prep room, which is the room before entering the main studio, which meant the client had arrived. After some time, likely for hair and makeup to work him over, a young man with brown hair and strong cheekbones entered and greeted you.

"Hello, photographer y/n. It's a pleasure to be working with you, and thank you so much for taking our call so late minute." He bowed deeply.

"Yeah, hi. Just called me, y/n. Photographer y/n is a little much."

The boy nodded. "I-I'm Yechan, from 82Major!"

"I know who you are. I read the paperwork," you replied dryly.

Your morning coffee hadn't kicked in yet... This was going to be an extremely rough morning.

Yechan took his time to go around to the rest of the staff and introduce himself to each of them, handing out small gift bags from his company.

You looked at your phone for the time. 8AM.

"Okay, that's enjoy chitchat. I'm already at 30% on the irritated scale, and being behind schedule will make it jump to 50%."

With your clear directions, everyone hopped to attention and started scrambling to their stations. Yechan hustled off to get his hair and makeup re-touched before stepping onto the canvas.

"Yechan, if you have any issues or questions with the photos, tell me. The one thing I hate more than waking up early is someone who can't speak on issues.

Yechan nodded eagerly and took followed directions beautifully. Every single angle, down to the degree, was perfect. Clearly practiced. Because of that, you managed to wrap up the first set of photos easily.

"Let's take 10 and switch outfits. We're making excellent time, so let's keep the pace up." You announced to the team.

As you went back to your studio chair, Yechan approached you meekly.

"Yes?" you asked without looking at him, more interested in your phone.

"Um... I'd like to ask you about your services, sir." Yechan mumbled.

You rolled your eyes before looking at him. "My services? I'm a photographer. I take pictures. Be clear about what you want."

"Okay, then I'll be straightforward." Yechan took a deep breath before continuing, "I'd like to please you."

You raised an eye. "Please me? I'm happy enough that we're ahead of schedule. You want me to be happy? Keep working hard."

Yechan shook his head. "I don't know if there's some sort of secret code or something... it's honestly a little embarrassing to just say, you know."

You giggled in your seat, finally looking up from your phone. Yechan was a pretty good-looking man. Knows his angles, good body proportions, and a face card that doesn't look like it'll decline with its high limit. You bet he was about 6 1/2 inches, with a left curve. You read that he was from Canada and the brother of another idol, but you can't remember the brother's name...

You sat back in your chair. "Do you mean you want to have sex with me, boy?"

Yechan's face got pink instantly. "Well, they said you were really frank. But I still didn't–"

"So it's a no?"

"It's a yes! I do want to have... s–sex with you."

You smiled. "And what did you have in mind, young man?" The age gap between you wasn't big, but you could tell he was melting from you treating him like he's the younger in this situation.

"I want to do whatever makes you happy."

"So you have no plan? That's not very well prepared of you."

"I'm pretty skilled though! I got a few tricks!"

You smiled bigger. "Tricks? And what if I refuse? Yechan's face turned white. He clearly didn't consider the possibility of you saying no to him. "You didn't think I was some prostitute, did you? That you could just say, sex, and I'll give it?"

He shook his head, "No! Of course not–I'd never think that."

"Then tell me, what would you want? If you can have anything from this."

He looked around before getting closer to whisper. "Um... If I could choose. I think I'd be really into cumming on your face after you suck me off, and maybe I call you a few names and stuff..."

"Oh, that's it?"

He shrugged. "I'm a rather simple guy..."

"Then, simply guy, let's finish this up so we can get busy," you winked at him as you went off to find more of your staff, leaving him alone with a clear boner.

The photoshoot resumed, Yechan in his new outfit. The crop top really complimented his figure, and honestly got you more excited for what was coming. You could also tell he was pretty excited. His cock could barely stay inside his pants, a few pictures had his tip peeking out, and you personally deleted those to save him from the embarrassment.

After the photoshoot, Yechan went into the dressing room to get changed. You dismissed the staff for the night, thanked everyone for being present, and then walked into the dressing room.

"Hello? Anyone home?" You called.

Yechan let out a small yelp, covering himself. "I'm in here!"

"Yes, obviously. I came here to find you." You closed the door and locked it behind you. "I'm here to give you the reward you requested for being such a good boy today."

Yechan's face was red, his shirt and underwear were on, but his pants were still on the floor.

You winked at him, "easy access? For me? How considerate."

"That's not–"

You dropped to your knees and started crawling over to him. "This is your reward, remember? Anything you want goes, but if either of us says stop, we're done."

Yechan nodded, still covering his crotch.

You crawled right up to him, your face inches away from his dick. "Are you going to hide all day? Isn't it your desire to take charge?" You unbutton your shirt, letting it sensually slide down your shoulders, but not taking it off completely.

"So, I can just go?" Yechan asked again to be sure.

"Yep, just–" Yechan pulled your hair and pushed you into his crotch, making you huff his musk. Slightly sweaty, but pretty clean. You could feel his cock throbbing under the thin fabric, 6 1/2 inches, and curved to the left... You moved your hand to touch it, but Yechan slapped it away.

"Did I tell you to use your hands, s–slut!?" He hesitated at calling you a slut. But the submissive look in your eye reaffirmed him. "Use your mouth to take it out."

You maneuvered your mouth to his waistband, nose grinding against his abs, and dragged his boxes down. His cock smacked you in the face as you moved. His balls were heavy and full, he was throbbing like crazy, and even a slight graze earned a guttural groan. Yechan had really been waiting for you...

"Get to work, whore."

You look up at him, still keeping your hands off him as you caught his cock in your mouth and started licking.

"More than that, I don't want you half-assing it. I'm a busy man!" He pulled on your hair, pulling you into him to make you take more.

Yechan was starting to get more into it, which made you want to mess with him. He wouldn't last long if you tried to push him to it, but if he's so busy, then he can handle it. You straightened your back, corrected his hand to move your head and not pull your hair, and relaxed your jaw. Yechan noticed the change in your attitude as he started getting greedy. Pushing you deep, holding you there, all while telling you how much of an attention whore you are. You pressed him more, flattening your tongue and turning off the gag reflex. You were taking over.

"Wait, holy f–fuck," he moaned as he grabbed a nearby table. "Oh, you're so good. So, so, good at this." You squeezed his balls, earning more praise. "My balls too! Fu–fuck, baby just like that. Keep chugging it." He pushed you down, controlling the tempo, making it faster. "Your mouth is amazing, I–I'm gonna fucking cum." He almost whined as you pulled off of him, jerking him off and licking his tip. His pressure was building. Fast. "Please let me cum on your face!"

You giggled. "Say it in character!"

Yechan's words were still fumbling. "I–I will cum on your face?" He questioned before you squeezed his balls firmly. "God Damn," his cum shot out and landed on your face. "My... g–god." He wouldn't stop, pump after pump. It was at last 8 pumps, full of cum, now on your face. Each was accompanied by a thrust and whining moans from Yechan. You stroked him through it all, milking him completely before giving the tip a lick and a kiss.

"All done?"

Yechan breathlessly smeared his cum on your face, using his cock. Pushing it toward your mouth. "I'm sorry for the mess..." He said breathlessly.

You pulled out your phone and took a picture with Yechan. Cock still out and cum on your face, but a little less as you wiped some off. You put the tip back in your mouth for your picture, earning more begging from Yechan.

"P–Please! No more, I can't cum again!"

You help Yechan finish getting dressed and clean yourself up, sending him on his way and adding his photo to the folder with the others...

#82major #yechan #oracle of dreams #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #yechan 82major #82major smut #yoon yechan #yechan smut #82major x reader

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heartfullofleeches · 2 months

Note

OOOO moth darling? I wanna throw my idea in too. Maybe a super kind and caring goth moth darling? Especially when they look super menacing (bcus they wear hardcore goth fashion) but their favorite game is smthn like animal crossing or they like super relaxing hobbies. (Also adonis could literally suffocate in the big tittie from his goth partner.) I hope you see my vision. PLEASE.

[Yan Butterfly + Goth Moth Darling]

Adonis is so weak for Darling.... He probably sneaks invites them into the buildings/homes he cleans for his job especially if there's been a murder or the home owners had some decor he knew they'd like. Adonis makes a fair amount of money from his cleaning gig, even moreso on contacts that are more "under the table" ergo shady folks looking to clean up any evidence left behind - but he's always spending his cash on gifts he knows Darling will like because he knows their preferred style of dress ain't always cheap.

Darling tells him they don't need it, but how can he stop when they're so kind to him? Making sure he eats, takes breaks, sleep. Butterfly boy may have worked himself to death by now if it wasn't for them. The long, grueling hours are worth it so long as he gets to come home and rest on their soft, warm ti- pillows...

"Brought you some sandwiches. Nothin' special, grabbed them from that gas station around the corner, but I knew you had to have something since you've been here all morning. Promise I'll grab something more filling next time"

An angel....An absolute angel gifted from the heavens above. Here you were bringing him food and checking up on him, yet you had the gull to believe it wasn't enough.

"...thanks...." Adonis shyly takes the bag from you, tensing as your fingers brush against his. You gaze around the living room as he clumsily works to untie its strings. The couch, TV stand, and coffee table had all been pushed towards the far walls - dark stains embedded into the carpet close to where the legs of the table once stood. You crouch to get a better look.

"Is this...." Your voice grows quiet - barely a whisper as you extend your hand. "Where it happened?"

"M....Mhm..." Adonis mouths through bitefuls of bread and cheese. The sandwich wasn't the best, or worst thing he'd ever eaten, but knowing it came from you made every bite heaven. He had given you some details of the incident that had taken place. A burglary gone wrong resulting in the death of an innocent man. Nobody even knew he was gone until bills began piling up. Never had many friends or close family.... Adonis wasn't close with his parents either... If something happened to him... you'd probably be the first and only to notice...

"Adonis?..."

"Y...Yeah?"

The butterfly freezes as your arms fall around him, pulling him towards your chest.

"Promise me that no matter what you'll text me at the end of every shift you have. It doesn't matter how late it is...All I care about is that you're safe."

You actually care.... Adonis has always know that, but hearing you say it out loud even if muffled by his face smothered by your chest...He knew it was an inappropriate time, but it was hard not to obsess over the contact with every beat of your heart playing like a melody in his ear. An angel, his angel. His saving grace he'll never let go.

"I will... Every night... I promise to I'll let you know whenever I get home.. I promise."

"Thank you....."

Adonis looks down at his half eaten sandwich. "...My bosses said I could take anything I wanted. I think there's still some clothes in the closet still that you might like if you're interested?"

"Raiding a dead guy's closet wasn't on my list of plans today...but I think I have enough space in my schedule."

#Adonis my oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere hybrid #yandere drabble

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thisismeracing · 7 months

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I'll always take care of you | MS47

― Pairing: Mick Schumacher x reader (she/her) ― Word count: 1.2k ― Warnings: mentions of food and sickness; overall fluff. ― Summary: The flu caught you out of the blue, and completely unprepared, good thing you have your boyfriend around to take care of you. ― A/n: This piece was based on this request. This is a special piece for my mick schumacher sick girlies (gn) club (as many of us were sick this week). I hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know your thoughts by reblogging and/or leaving me an ask (anons are on) *mwah* 🤍

✷ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ✷ you can support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Mondays are usually good days for you.

Though the week starts on Sundays, for you, they truthfully get going on Mondays. Mondays are when classes and work are back in full swing and when you make a list of everything you need to do for the week. When you are energized to clean your room, and when Mick comes home from races.

This Monday, though, you wake up with a cough, a runny nose, and your head pounding. It’s terrible. It doesn’t take you long to realize that it’s the flu and it’s not going away in time for you to get to work and classes, so you text your supervisor and send an e-mail to your professor, leaving your cell phone back on the nightstand and trying to sleep it off at least a little bit.

It gets worse after five minutes. Your whole body is aching and you wanna cry from stress because why couldn’t it happen any other day? Why today? You shrug the covers off, get Angie some food, get your water bottle, and some painkillers, and go back to bed. This time, the wiggly dog lies on your feet, as if she sensed something was wrong.

That was the first signal for Mick. Every Monday when he comes back from wherever he was in the world, Angie is at the door eager to greet him, but this time the apartment holds a weird silence, and there’s no signal of his dog. You also hadn’t answered his messages earlier this morning, something you would always do because, by the time he got home, you were up and running with your things.

He takes off his shoes, leaves his luggage by the entrance, and makes the short trek to your shared bedroom, a million thoughts going through his head. All of them dissipating when he opens the door and sees your sleeping form along with Angie lying on the bed. His shoulders drop in relief, only to go up again when your body moves on the bed, a nasty cough scratching your throat and making you whimper in pain.

Mick is by your side in a heartbeat.

Angie watched everything attentively as if knowing that he would talk to her soon, that right now her mom needed dad more.

You sit up reaching for the water, and finally notice Mick by your side.

“Babe,” you start but the coughing fits interrupt.

The blonde by your side passes your water bottle while rubbing your back, a worried look on his graceful features, “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick, Schatzi?”

And though there’s no judgment on his tone, you feel like crying, particularly because you’re sick, but also because you feel emotional. Of course, you know that Mick would always take care of you, but going through it was a completely different story, “It started earlier this morning,” you explain, taking a sip of your water again.

“Did you call your boss and your professor? Want me to do it?”

You nodded, then shook your head, “I already did, thanks though.”

“Have you eaten?”

And this time your eyes go to the ground. You know he’s about to huff a worried reply, but you’re too tired to try and explain, so you just lie back and watch as Mick kisses your forehead and starts changing his clothes, putting on his grey sweatpants and white shirt while telling you that you’re burning and he’s going to call the drugstore down the block to drop off some meds.

You hum in agreement. He pets Angie, leaving a kiss on her waiting head, but when he leaves she doesn’t follow, staying planted on the bed with you.

“Angie, sweet angel, you can go with Dad, I know you missed him,” you talk as if she would understand. Angie wiggles her tail, gets up from the bottom of the bed, and lies with her head on your belly.

You smile, caressing her fur, and it's not long before you’re falling asleep again.

You wake up minutes later, with Mick telling you to open your mouth while he’s scooping some kind of medicine in a spoon. You protest but drink it anyway, making faces at how sour it tastes.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Terrible, I can’t breathe through my nose, and I’m cold, but I’m also burning.”

His fingers brush on your cheek, “Yeah, you have a fever, but I just gave you something to get the fever down. I’ll keep putting cold compresses on your forehead, but you can keep napping, okay?”

His soft tone makes your lips turn into a pout, some tears gathering in the corner of your eyes, “Baby, you’re gonna get sick too, no. I can take care of mys–”

Mick shakes his head, “I’m your boyfriend, I’m taking care of you. And besides, I’m an athlete, I won’t get sick that easily.”

Mick could very well be stubborn when he wanted to, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, sighing, “At least put on a mask.”

“Can I get a kiss first?”

You turn your head to him so fast you almost get whiplash, your brows are furrowed and your lips parted, “Are you out of your mind, Schumacher?”

He gifts you with a belly laugh, throwing his head back and showing you the milky skin of his neck. You so wanted to kiss it. And his pink plush lips too. But you couldn’t, and you told him this much.

“Yeah, I was messing with you, princess.”

You huff.

“Now, get comfortable, I’m gonna grab my mask. Your soup is almost ready,” he says, standing up from his sitting position on the bed.

“I’m not hungry,” you whine, lying down and bringing Angie close to you, snuggling on her soft fur.

“You gotta eat to get better soon, Schatzi.”

You mumble something not even you can understand, and Mick chuckles, walking back to the bed and sitting beside you. He brushes your cheek and holds your jaw, holding your eyes to his. You’re sick, you’re tired, and you have a headache pounding on your head nonstop, and a nasty running nose, but those blue orbs staring at you sure made your body tremble, all warm and fuzzy. His head dips and he takes the covers from your legs, just enough so his lips can find your naked thighs. He kisses there, and then your belly, and the inside of your wrist. There’s nothing sexual about it, he’s just kissing what he knows you would classify as a safe spot, far from your coughs, and snout.

Mick misses you though you are in front of each other right now.

And you miss him just as much.

“We went a week away, you really wanna make it more than it needs to be?”

You open your mouth, but then just drop your demeanor, shaking your head.

“Good, because I miss snuggling with you and kissing you, and we won’t be able to do it while you’re sick, right?” You nod. “I wouldn’t mind getting sick for you though.”

“Nope,” you pop the p. “Not happening. You’re sleeping in the guest bedroom until I get better.”

“Then you’re eating and taking all the meds I bring,” there’s a determination in his tone, and you can’t help but nod. “We have a deal?”

You nod reluctantly and shake hands with him. There’s a winning smile on his face, “good, I’m bringing the compresses and the soup.”

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, besties! I hope you guys like this piece! Rooting for our mick schumacher sick girlies (gn) club to let all of its members go back to being exclusively from the mick scumacher simp club hihi A huge shout out to my coffee anon for proofreading this piece and suggesting the title (ily, C)!🤍

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @fdl305 @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @leclercsluv @v1naco @callsign-scully @heelariously @dearxcherry @elliegrey2803 @he6rtshaker @peachiicherries @therealcap @mehrmonga @cixrosie @thatgibbsygirl @the-depressed-fellow @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @goldenalbon @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @skepvids @scopeiguess @nzygftoji @princewis @bbreezybitch

©thisismeracing do not copy, steal, or translate my work. do not repost on a different media platform.

#mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher fluff #f1 x reader #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 x you #mick schumacher #ms47 #op: patreon pieces #mick schumacher fanfic #mick schumacher x you #f1 fluff #f1 x you #formula one imagine #formula one x you #mick schumacher x reader

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hopelesslyromanticgay · 11 months

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An Americano Please? PT. 1

Word count: about 500 words Summary: Jenna wants a coffee, Y/N is the only barista at her cafe who speaks English.

A/N: Italicized text within quotation marks means whoever is speaking is talking in Romanian.

Y/N's POV:

Sleep. Eat. Brew Coffee. Repeat.

That was all my life was. Sometimes I would deviate from this schedule, going on dates, seeing a new movie, making or spending time with friends, but normally my day had the same four steps. Little did I know this was all about to change.

Let me be clear, I didn't mind the simplicity. It's a small town that I live in, located in Zamora district of Bușteni, Romania. The only reason for new people to come by is the occasional visit to Cantacuzino Castle. I like that it's quiet here.

It's a Sunday morning, I'm enjoying the gentle breeze as I'm walking to work. The vibrant Autumn leaves swaying with the wind. Eight O'clock and the town is just beginning to wake up.

The bell attached to the door rings loudly when I enter the workplace. Immediately the warm slightly scents of coffee, cinnamon, and baked goods waft through the brisk autumn air.

The Café is bustling with activity when I get there. It's the morning, and civilians want their coffee.

"Morning, L/N," my boss greets me, "put on an apron and get to work."

I swiftly don the apron and take my colleague John's spot at the counter.

People swarm to the register, ordering everything from drip coffee to cortados, lattes, and iced dirty chais.

Every shift here is pretty similar. Romanian's not my first language, but I'd say I feel confident in my ability to communicate with it.

I must have served a hundred customers before anything even slightly noteworthy starts happening.

The bell softly jingles and someone I've never seen before comes through the door. She's shorter than the average customer. I can't get a good look at her face before yet another customer asking for a drip coffee or something.

"L/N, this one's for you," my coworker gestures to the girl I saw come in earlier, "good thing ya know English."

Well, I can't argue with that. I wave the girl over to me

"Hey, welcome to the Café, my name's Y/N. What can I get for ya today?" it's not that I catch my first good glimpse at the girl. She has long black hair, clearly darkened by dye, with wispy bangs lightly caressing her freckled face.

"Hi, I'm Jenna, nice to meet you," she replies with a distinctly American accent, "what do you recommend?"

I stop to think, cracking a smile.

"Well, I'd have to say. I think an Americano would go great with your... American-ness," I laugh.

She giggles, "what gave it away? The not knowing Romanian, or the accent."

"Does it really matter?" I chuckle, "anyhow, what do you usually order at a coffee shop?"

"I'll just take a cold brew, no milk or sugar."

"One cold brew coming right up," I smile, going over to the ice machine, filling the cup with ice and then cold brew.

"Thank you so much," she smiles sweetly.

"I'm here every morning if you ever need someone to take your order," I reply.

"I might just take you up on that," she smirks, walking off with her cold brew after paying.

This was my most interesting shift so far this past week.

Little did I know, this would not be the last interesting shift I'd end up having.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #cute #barista #fanfic #x reader #wednesday addams #i love jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #reader insert #jenna ortega x you #wednesday show #coffee shop #coffee shop romance #vada cavell x reader #camila montes x reader #lorraine day x reader #tara carpenter x reader #an americano please

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bloompompom · 10 months

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HELLO I don’t know if you take requests but I LOVED that post you made today from the ask so if you do, I was thinking about what Eren would be like if reader called/texted him while he was at work and teased him over the phone by touching themselves? YOU ABSOLUTELY DONT HAVE TO DO THIS IF YOU DONT WANT I just love how you write Eren you are one of my favorite writers for him

hehe i wouldn't say i often take requests but i'll entertain if something tickles me. i'll always say yes to you though, especially because you asked so nicely🤍

content: ~1.5k word count. husband!eren x female!reader. nudes, phone sex, semi-public masturbation, light degradation, 18+ only.

eren didn't want to go to work, believe him. who actually wants to go to work, anyway? despite his convincing, you were still acting as if he wanted to leave your side, pouting in bed when he wouldn't spoon you for 'just one more minute' because he knew it would turn into ten.

as much as he wished he could stay home and spend the day with you, he couldn't. he couldn't even risk running behind this morning because his day was to start at nine o'clock sharp, stacked full with back-to-back meetings. but based on the look you shot him on his way out the door, eren had a feeling you were about to make his long day a whole lot longer.

he had only been at work for about an hour before you texted. enjoying your day without me? the message, though it made him roll his eyes, was innocent enough. but that didn't last long.

during his second meeting of the day, already dragging by slower than the first, eren felt his phone vibrate against his thigh. he didn't need to look to know it was another message from you, especially after it buzzed again, taunting him.

just a peek wouldn't hurt, he thought, i don't even have to reply right away. the meeting was being held over video call; no one would even know if he checked his phone.

face trained straight ahead, directly toward the monitor, he slipped his phone from his pocket. in short bursts, he flitted his eyes down to unlock his phone, then again to swipe to your messages. he tried his best to be subtle with it.

miss me yet?

below it, in a separate message, a photo of you.

yes, he tried to be subtle with it, but he failed. big time.

eyes widened in shock, eren darted a hand out to shut his camera off. he hastily blamed it on technical difficulties, all the while, he was responding to you in frenzy.

baby, you cannot be doing this to me right now. you know i’m in an important meeting!

he watched—more like gawked at the image—as you quickly typed out, call me after ♡

by the look of it, you were still lounged in bed, right where he had left you. the only thing that changed was that you now wore next to nothing. barely covered by your thin bedsheet, eren admired your form.

he had seen you like this, countless times. he had learned every curve beneath his fingertips so intimately that he could draw you off memory alone if he had the knack for it. but there was something different—perhaps something more special—about the sight when you had captured it on camera for him. knowing you settled back into your shared bed, the one he devotedly fucked you in near-nightly, spread your pretty pussy, and snapped a photo with no one but him clouding your thoughts.

eren couldn't help but stare for a minute, maybe longer. the meeting had fizzled into nothing more than white noise. if someone were to call his name right now, he doubted he'd hear it. he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so flustered, but even after all the years spent together, you still managed to have that effect on him whether he liked it or not.

it was obvious you were up to no good—practically asking for trouble, except he was the one who'd inevitably take the fall for it. he didn't have the time to call you unless he wished to have his boss chew him out. even so, he found himself stumbling into your trap. he was only human, after all; he wasn't above thinking with his dick from time to time. so he rang you between meetings, justifying it by calling with only a single earbud in, foolishly convinced he could multitask while on the phone with you.

after a few rings, you answered. at least, eren was pretty sure you answered. the line was silent. there was a split second where he thought the call had dropped. as he started to say your name, he was interrupted. he heard soft breaths on the other end of the phone. tiny noises, like hums and huffs through your nose. eren's mouth ran dry.

"ah—i need you," you breathed, gasped. "i couldn't wait for you to get home."

you feigned innocence as you said it, your voice sweetened up as if you were truly helpless. but your husband knew you better than that; he knew he didn't have a demure little wife waiting for him at home, but fuck, did he find it hot. so he'd always fall for the act anyway.

caught up in it, eren's fingertips ghosted over his keyboard with a slight tremble. his eyes were on his computer screen, but the documents were blurry and out of focus. everything was blurry and out of focus, except you of course.

he needed to know what you were doing to yourself. did you have your vibrator? if so, which one did you choose? or had you decided to use your fingers, circling the pads of them against your clit? maybe you were fingering yourself, knuckles deep but whining for more, growing wetter by the second as you dreamt of his fingers—how they could reach places yours couldn't.

before he could ask—discover if you were grinding against your hand or his pillow—the door to his office flew open.

“jaeger, i—"

eren jolted, almost to a comical degree, and his co-worker rightfully laughed, offhandedly commenting how he didn't seem the type to startle easily. eren spoke with him—well, tried to speak with him. it was a challenge because he still had you in his ear, moaning now, louder than before. you were asking where he had gone, begging for him to talk you through it—to tell you every dirty thing he wanted to do to you.

eren couldn't repeat a word his co-worker had said to him. he only waited for him to finish, cleared his throat, and told him to close the door on his way out. eren then marked out for lunch, hoping it would buy him some time.

whether it was his sense of decency or self-control that snapped first, eren wasn't sure. but when you cried out his name, he could no longer stop himself from reaching for his cock, throbbing to be touched by you. his hand would have to suffice for now.

cursing both you and himself, he tugged his slacks down to the middle of his thighs, just low enough that he could touch himself, too. eren thumbed over the leaky tip of his cock, hissing in a tangled mix of relief and utter humiliation. he couldn't believe you had brought him to his knees like this. succumbing to jerking himself at work had to be a new low, even for him.

"what a needy little thing you are," eren spoke into the phone. his voice was quiet but guttural and deeply authoritative. "thinking you can interrupt my workday just so i can help get you off."

he made it sound like a burden, but he only fisted his cock faster.

"yes," you moaned, drawing out the simple word as if it were longer than just the syllable. you were babbling now, talking to him exactly how he liked. "fuck, i'm your needy little thing—your needy little slut."

his brain short-circuited then and there, incapacitating him to the point where he could only mutter on about how fucking hot you were between breaths, squeezing his cock as if his hand could ever compare to you.

you were close; he could hear it when you whimpered, "eren—"

“that’s right," he cut in. he was right there with you. "only think about me when you come. think about coming all over my cock like a good girl."

with his free hand, eren pulled up the picture you sent him, staring at you while your moans became strained and choppy on the other end of the phone. such a perfect pussy, he thought, like it was made just for him.

your breath hitched in your throat, the final tell-tale sign that you were coming undone.

“that's it. come for me, baby." he needed to finish when you did. he stroked himself, not minding the squeak in his chair as he quickened his pace. "i wanna hear it—god, i need to hear you."

one last sob, ripped right from the pit of your lungs, and eren came with you. his stomach tightened, eyes screwing shut, as he toppled over the edge of his release. he pumped himself through it, even when it was nearly too much, until he knew you had stopped twitching and were blissfully lazed in bed.

only then did he come to his senses again, swearing under his breath when he realized his situation—the mess he made across his phone, not to mention on his slacks.

you were giggling into the phone now; eren could hear your breathless smile in it. there was no returning to work now, was there?

"fine. you win," he surrendered with a sigh. he logged out of his computer. "i'll be home in thirty minutes."

#for you my sweet #i gift you: absolute filth #i hope you like it because i have no idea where over 1k words came from <3 #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut

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vastill · 7 months

Note

I love you Rebecca Welton fics🩷

So maybe a Rebecca Welton Fic where reader and her have been married for a while but no one quite believes it until reader shows up to drop off pinch for Rebecca?

Forgotten lunch

Rebecca Welton/fem!reader

warnings: fluff

words: 1700+

My requests are open!!

English is not my first language!

A/N: firstly, i love your request, and thank you for sending it! and secondly, im really sorry, my brain read your request a little differently but I hope you will like it! hope you will enjoy reading it! let me know what you think!!💚

Rebecca Welton always wanted to have an aura of secrecy around her. Sharing every aspect of her life with others was not for her. After a messy divorce from Rupert, she learned even more about living in secrecy. She didn't want to experience another drama in her life, and she certainly didn't want the press meddling in her private affairs again, so she decided to keep some things to herself. However, as the owner of a football club, it wasn't easy, as it involved many plans and rules she had to follow.

Rebecca's daily schedule remained consistent. Each morning, she had to go through her ritual to ensure she didn't forget anything important. Being an early riser, she would often admire her partner's sleeping face before the alarm went off. Despite her demanding job, Rebecca always made time for you. Mornings were her favorite moments, a brief shared moment of lying in bed and cuddling before she went to get ready for the day. During this time, you would go downstairs to prepare breakfast for both of you and pack lunch for Rebecca. Remote work had the perk that you could spend most of the day in your pyjamas without worrying about anything.

“How can you look this gorgeous so early in the morning?” You asked when she came downstairs in all her glory. She grabbed you by the hand and tugged you for the sweetest kiss. “I don’t know, how can you look this cute in your pyjamas?” She laughed when you scoffed and kissed your nose.

“Well, not everyone is the owner of a football club, baby. So I need to pull off my pajamas look.”

“And you do it perfectly darling,” she smiled and beckoned you closer to her, “I love seeing you like this. It’s a shame that I need to go to work.” She said while her hands went under your shirt to caress the soft skin of your stomach.

“Someone is clingy today. You sure you can’t stay today?” You asked, internally knowing the answer but there was no harm in asking, maybe one day she would agree.

Rebecca sighed, leaning her head on your chest and hugging you tightly, “No, sorry sweetheart. I can’t, I have some meetings today but I promise I will be home for dinner.” The two of you stood in your embrace for a little while, taking this moment of calmness.

“Oh fuck,” you heard Rebecca silently murmur before quickly getting up. “I need to go, otherwise I will be late. Have a good day, I love you!” she shouted as she left the house. As she opened the door, you noticed her packed lunch sitting on the counter. “Wait, love! You forgot your...” The door closed before you could finish the sentence, “...lunch.”

You pondered for a moment about what to do with the lunch box. Your initial thought was to bring her lunch to work, but since no one knew about your relationship, you weren't sure if Rebecca wanted them to know. However, you had made her favorite dish, and you knew she was craving it, so not having it today would surely ruin her mood. Ultimately, you decided to send her a text and wait for her response.

Hi, love! You forgot your lunch from home and I know you have been craving this meal so what do you want me to do with it? I think I'll put it in the fridge and it'll be waiting for you. Missing you already xx

Rebecca got to work without being a minute late. She sat in her office and checked her phone, seeing your message she searched her purse, “Shit!”

“Hello to you too, Boss!” she saw Ted standing in her office with his usual box of biscuits in hand. “Sorry, Ted. Yes, good morning.” She said with a tight smile.

“Got up on the wrong side of the bed? Maybe these will help.” Ted said, handing her the box.

“Thank you,” she said, grabbing one of the biscuits, “I just forgot my lunch at home. It was a tasty lunch, so I’m a little upset.”

“Maybe you can send someone to grab it for you? I don’t mind going there if you want me to. It’s not like I have many things to do today.” Ted offered.

“No, that won’t be necessary. I think I have an idea. But back to work, do you have something you want to talk about?” she asked while texting you.

I didn’t even notice! You and your pyjamas distracted me! But I thought maybe you could come here and drop it. And if you are not busy, have lunch with me in my office? That would be very nice. Love you xx

Yeah, of course! When do you want me to be there?

Around two? How does that sound?

I’ll be there! I can’t wait! xx

Rebecca was nervous, not because she was ashamed of who she was or her relationship, but because she wanted to protect her and your privacy. And you coming here wasn’t something that she expected to do. But she was also excited. She wanted you to be in all parts of her life and perhaps introduce you to some of her friends at AFC Richmond if you were up for it.

As two o'clock approached, Rebecca paced in her office. The door swung open, and she turned around to see Keeley standing there. Although she felt disappointed, she didn't show it on her face.

“Hey! I need to tell you all about this new staff at my office. He is getting on my nerves so bad!” Keeley said, settling comfortably on the couch in Rebecca’s office. “You know, he is new but fucking hell he doesn’t know how to do anything. He broke the printer today! Printer, Rebecca! How does someone not know how to use the fucking printer!”

“Oh hey, yes, I’m good, thanks for asking. And no, you are not interrupting.” Rebecca said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

“Don't tell me you're busy. I saw you pacing!” Keeley exclaimed. Another person appeared in the doorway. “Oh, Ted! Come here, maybe you have some gossip to share!” she shouted from the couch.

I’m here. Do I just go straight in or do I need to do something?

Go straight in, when you reach the stairs you need to go up and there is my office.

Rebecca didn’t know what to do. You will be here any minute, and she is not alone.

FYI Ted and Keeley are here in my office.

Oh. Do you not want me to go there? I mean I can ask someone to bring you lunch.

Don’t be silly, come here. I want you to meet them. I want you to be a part of this family I have here <3

Okay, give me a second, I love you xx

“Who are you texting? Me and Ted are here so..did you finally meet someone?” Keeley asked, and Rebecca could only smile. She saw you standing in the hallway and beckoned you inside. “Who is there? Are we inviting more people to the gossip group?” Keeley said, but Rebecca wasn’t listening to her anymore.

You shyly stepped into the office, stealing a glance at Keeley and Ted before waving at them. They looked at you with confusion, unsure of who you were. But before you could speak, Rebecca embraced you in a hug. “I’m so happy you are here, darling,” Rebecca whispered in your ear. After releasing the hug, her hand remained on your waist. “Thank you for bringing me lunch, I know I promised you to eat together but I didn’t expect to have company." She said, giving a narrowed look to the two individuals on the couch.

“You didn’t tell me you are bringing a hot date here! So that’s not my fault!” Keeley exclaimed. She quickly introduced herself, saying, “Hi, I’m Keeley, Rebecca’s best friend, and you are?”

You smiled at her, “Hi, I’m Y/N, Rebecca’s-“ You glanced at Rebecca, and she nodded, so without hesitation, you continued, “wife.” The two of you exchanged smiles as you noticed their confused expressions. You couldn't help but feel a rush of joy as you saw the surprise on their faces.

“Wait a moment, did I hear correctly? You said wife, didn't you? I mean my hearing isn't as good as it used to be, but surely it can't be that bad. Or maybe I imagined it?” Ted questioned, his eyebrows furrowing as he nervously rubbed his ear, trying to make sense of what he'd just heard.

Rebecca laughed lightly at his surprise, nodding in affirmation. “Yes, Ted, you heard me correctly. She is my wife, it will be two years soon.” Rebecca confirmed with a gentle smile, her fingers tenderly squeezing your side for reassurance.

Keeley seemed to get out of her confused stage, “I knew you were a little fruity but WIFE! And you didn’t tell me! I’m seriously offended!” she said, her voice filled with faux disapproval, “It will take a lot of hot gossips for me to forgive you!”

“I don’t know about hot gossip, but we definitely will have girls' night since you know who I am.” You said, a note of excitement creeping into your voice, “I'm sorry Ted, I can't make any promises about them letting you in, but just so you know, from my side, you're also invited!”

“Yes! Girls night! I always wanted to be invited to one!” He jumped into the air in his excitement, his fist pumping in victory.

The room filled with laughter as Ted looked like he'd just won the lottery, and even Keeley's initial surprise had faded, replaced with an eager grin. Rebecca and you both laughed at his excitement, “I'll look forward to it,” Rebecca said, a smile dancing on her lips.

You couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth spread through you as you watched Rebecca talk and laugh with her colleagues. It was a sight you didn’t get to see often. She caught your eye and winked at you, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

This was a new chapter in your life, and you both were ready for it. Rebecca was finally ready to let the world know about her love for you, ready to take on whatever came her way with you by her side.

#rebecca welton x reader #rebecca welton fic #rebecca welton fanfic #rebecca welton #ted lasso fic #vastill #wlw fiction #wlw post

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amberkoyuki · 3 months

Text

Head cannons for mafia boss Kyojuro

warnings: MDNI

Just headcannons for my Rengoku AU

𝓕𝓵𝓾𝓯𝓯 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼

★ rests his head into your shoulder

★has to always make sure you love him, like he's always asking "Sunflower do you still love me"

★is affectionate in front of others

★cuddles, lots of them

★makes sure it isn't "ILYSM" "ILY" "ILYT" he does nor want abbreviations when it comes to that. He wants you to take the time to spell it

★good morning and good night texts

★will respond to your texts as soon as he gets them

★doesn't matter if he's busy. He will make time for you

★always asking about your day

★makes sure your always near him

★always has 2 workers watching your every move

★his clothes = your clothes

★no other ladies - family

18+ 𝕭𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖜 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 18+ 𝕭𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖜 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 18+ 𝕭𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖜 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 18+ 𝕭𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖜 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 18+ 𝕭𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖜

𝓢𝓹𝓲𝓬𝔂 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼

★Bites you anywhere and everywhere

★overestimates how many fingers he can put it

★will fuck you in front of others

★will make you Give him a blowjob whole your hidden like under a desk or table

★everyone that works for Kyojuro has seen y'all have sex

★doesnt matter if this meeting is important your on his lap riding him

★buys you lingerie. That, that is basically your wardrobe

★has fucked you in front of a man who groped you

things he'd say during sex

★"f—fuck... sunflowerr..~ "

★"you're so sweet.. ~" (NOT PERSONALITY WISE.)

★"does that feel good?~"

★"only i make you feel this good? RIGHT?"

★"c'mon you can take one more finger.. ~!

★"you can take one more finger i know you can baby"

★"Of course I feel g—good...~ flower.. ~"

★"such a good girl..~"

★"it'll fit..100% sure~"

★"yep.. Move just like that.~"

★yep.. I like that name..

★I'll give you my last name just kept screaming my first one babe..~

#kny x reader #kny kyojuro #kyojuro my beloved #kimestu no yaiba #rengoku kyojuro #demon slayer kyojuro #rengoku x reader #kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku #amberkoyuki

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willalove75 · 5 months

Text

The Estate | Lady Dimitrescu x Fem!oc Chapter 5

Summary: You have a relaxing weekend with your daughter before your first full week of work begins - and it begins with a surprise visitor and a spontaneous conversation with your new boss.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI

Tags: fluff, angst if you squint, plot development

I'll add more tags as needed!

Notes: Chapter 5! In reference to the gif: if you know. You know. BECSPK gang 4 lyfeee💕 (Although my go-to is egg whites and bacon on a seedless🤤)

I want to SO apologize for not updating this fic in MONTHS! For those of you who haven't seen my Alcina's New Maid update (or my Tumblr post update) the reason for my lack of writing has been because I'm pregnant! I'm officially 20 weeks (halfway! WOO!) and have been trying to get myself back into a regular writing schedule. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the update!

Ik slow burns can be boring and I'm trying my hardest to keep it entertaining while also not rushing too much!! I have a LOT planned for this fic and I'm excited to get into the meat and potatoes of it!

Gif source

Saturday mornings are your favorite. They're usually relatively quiet, not a lot goes on and you get to spend some lazy quality time with Emma. Just as you're clipping her into her booster seat your phone dings with a text message.

Open the door, bitch

Rolling your eyes, you walk to the door and open it to find your sister, Sam, standing in front of you with a brown paper bag in her hands.

"Finally!" She says as she walks into the apartment.

"How long were you standing out there for? Thirty seconds?"

"Thirty seconds too long!" She says over her shoulder as she drops the bag onto the table and leans down to kiss Emma. "Hello my sweet little angel, how are you this morning?"

"Auntie! I'm hungry!"

"You didn't eat yet, did you?" She asks you as she opens the paper bag.

The smell of bacon immediately fills the kitchen and it makes your mouth water. The signature scent of an egg sandwich causes your stomach to growl in response.

"No, I was just about to make Emma something. Fuck that smells so good." You say under your breath. "Where are the kids?"

"Good, I got you a sandwich. And Tyler has them today. It's his weekend." Sam says.

"Ah, gotcha."

Sam hands you a sandwich from the bag and you eagerly take it from her.

"I don't think I've ever loved you more in my life."

"Ha ha" Sam sarcastically laughs. "Yeah I'm sure."

After whipping up Emma eggs of her own you sit at the table with Sam and dig into your sandwich.

"God I haven't had one of these in a minute."

"Consider this a 'congratulations on getting a job' gift." She says and you laugh in response. "How was it?"

"It was good, I keep saying this but it's really great to be back working and doing my thing. I missed it."

"Well I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. How are the people?"

"They're good, my boss is really nice, her kids for the most part are nice too. The CFO is kind of an ass, at least that's how he comes off."

"That sounds about right. Your boss' kids work there?"

"Yeah." You tell her about Bela, Cassandra and Daniela and she chuckles at Cassandra's attitude towards you.

"She sounds like a ray of sunshine." Sam says.

"You have no idea."

"Mommy! I want out!" Emma says.

"Okay baby, let's get you out."

You take Emma out of her booster seat and set her on the ground.

"Can I go play?"

"Yes baby, go ahead."

"YAY!" Emma screams as she runs into her room. You chuckle and shake your head at her.

"Well I'm glad you're liking it so far and that your boss is pretty cool. Have you told her about...?"

"No, not yet. It's too soon."

"She hasn't questioned why you've been out of work for two years?"

"Oh no, she has. But I danced around it. I'm not ready to talk about it in the office yet. It's nice not having people look at me the way they do once they find out, you know?"

"Not really, but I can understand. Is she at least understanding that you're a single mom?"

"Well, she just found that out yesterday, on accident really. Bela asked if Em was a mommy or daddy's girl."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. But I think I played it off well enough. And Bela definitely felt bad for asking because she blurted out that Alcina is a single mother too."

"Oh shit, really?"

"Yeah. Alcina shot her a look. A 'don't tell people about our personal lives' kind of look. Then before I left for the day she thanked me for being so kind to her daughters, especially the youngest one. It was really sweet."

"From what you've said she doesn't seem like the type to get sentimental with her employees like that."

"She isn't. I honestly don't know if she's ever showed anyone else in the office that side of her before. Everything is always strictly business with her, at least from what I've seen so far. But it was nice seeing that softer side of her."

"What does she look like?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm nosey and want to know!"

"I don't know, she's tall, like six feet tall and she wears heels."

"Holy shit she must be a giant."

"She is. She has short curly hair, really pretty blue-grey eyes. I've never seen eyes like hers before, they're beautiful. And she has the best figure I've ever seen, it's almost fake but you know it isn't."

"How so?"

"She has like, massive tits." You say as you imitate the size of her breasts with your hands. "And a small waist, but not like, too small? Nothing about this woman is small honestly. She has a like, perfect hour glass figure. But you can tell it's all natural. And she dresses like she walked out of the 1950s."

"Sounds like you've looked her over on more than one occasion." Sam says as she smirks at you.

"You would too if you saw her! Practically everyone does. She gives off this crazy alpha energy."

"You're single, right?"

"Oh god Sam stop. She's my boss!" You say as your cheeks turn pink.

"That hasn't stopped people before!"

"You're ridiculous. No."

"You're turning red!"

"I've been there three days! I can't have a crush on my boss! Plus, just because she's a single parent doesn't mean she isn't seeing anyone. And I doubt she's into women and she's. My. Boss."

"Whatever you say." Sam says with a smirk as she cleans up the table.

"You are a pain in my ass."

"Yet you love me anyway. So how's sassy pants downstairs?"

"Margie? She's fine, same as usual. She finally gave up driving, thank god."

"Oh fucking finally. Deb's been trying to convince her mother to stop driving for years. What made her finally give in?"

"Well, a few months ago she ran into the garage door."

"Oh Jesus."

"So she bargained. She said she would stop driving if she could start smoking again."

Sam laughs out loud and shakes her head. "She is stubborn as fuck."

"The most stubborn woman I know."

Sam hangs out with you and Emma for a few more hours before heading out. Around one in the afternoon you put Emma down for a nap and you decide to jump in the shower. After your shower you get dressed and clean the house a little. Emma only naps for an hour and a half before you go in and wake her up.

The weather is finally warming up so you decide it's the perfect day to head to the park nearby. Emma squeals with excitement when you pull up and you can barely keep up with her as she runs to the slide. There's a few other kids at the park with their parents watching close by. You keep an eye on Emma as she goes up and down the slide a few times before growing bored of it and moving to play on the jungle gym.

Kids and their parents come and go as you sit on the bench watching your daughter. Dinner time is slowly arriving so you tell Emma she can go on the slide three more times before it's time to go home. After the third time she puts up a little bit of a fight but the moment you suggest going and getting dinner from her favorite place, she's more than eager to leave.

After pulling into the parking lot you and Emma enter the 1950's-style diner. The hostess seats the two of you and when your waitress comes you place your order. Not long after the food comes out and you start on your sandwich as Emma munches on her chicken fingers. Emma squeals with excitement when you tell her that she's allowed to get an ice cream and she happily orders a vanilla sundae, you of course also order one for yourself.

As usual, Emma is wearing her ice cream by the time she's finished with it but truthfully, you couldn't care less. After getting the check and paying at the register you and Emma head home.

Once Emma is bathed and dressed in her pajamas, the two of you pick out a book, as you do every night, and you read her the story as she falls asleep.

The rest of the weekend flies by and before you know it, Monday is back again. After dropping Emma off at your in-laws house you make your way to the estate.

Walking inside you see Cassandra and one of the other bartenders prepping the bar for the day. You wave at them, Cassandra as per usual ignores you but the other bartender, Dave, waves at you with a smile and a pleasant "good morning!"

Rounding the corner towards the offices you spot Chris and Alcina talking in the hallway. Alcina is leaning up against the wall inspecting her fresh manicure, looking like she couldn't be more uninterested in whatever Chris was talking about if she tried.

When the sound of your shoes against the floor reaches her ears her eyes flick up towards you. A bright smile stretches across her lips and she pushes herself off of the wall and steps towards you.

Chris stops speaking mid-sentence and gives Alcina a look. She returns the look and says to him "I already told you you can go ahead with the project, I don't need you to continue to bore me with details that are irrelevant." before turning away.

"Good morning." You say.

"Good morning Kathleen. How was your weekend?"

"It was good, quiet but relaxing. How was yours?"

"Excellent. My weekend was busy, as usual, but pleasant."

Just as you go to speak you're interrupted by the sound of a door being slammed open in the tasting room. A second later a voice rings through the tasting room and down the hall.

"DELIVERY FOR HER HIGHNESS!"

Alcina's head snaps in the direction of the room, her eyes narrow and you hear a low growl rumble in her chest.

"If you'll excuse me." She says through gritted teeth. You notice a vein in her neck begin to pulse and she storms towards the noise.

"Oh this will be good." Chris says with a little excitement in his voice.

"What? What was that?"

"You're gonna want to see this." He says with a smile as he walks in the direction Alcina took off in. You drop your bag at your desk and head towards the direction Chris and Alcina went off to.

Alcina opens the doors to the tasting room and her vision turns red. Waltzing into the room is her brother, Karl, making his way towards the bar.

"Cassie, hook your uncle up will ya?" He says, taking a seat.

"Heisenberg." Alcina hisses.

"Ah, there she is!" He says as he puts his feet up on the bar.

Alcina smacks his feet off and glares down at him.

"Do you not have any manners?" She says as her eyes flash with rage.

"What? I'd think you'd be more appreciative that I worked so hard to finish whatever the hell it was you asked me to make."

You walk into the tasting room behind Chris and watch as Alcina stands next to a slightly disheveled man. He's wearing a stained t-shirt with baggy pants and boots. A hat, sunglasses, and a trench coat.

He goes to grab the drink that was set in front of him, ignoring the fact that Alcina is practically shaking with anger. He takes a long sip of the beer he was given and pulls out a cigar, sticking it between his chapped lips. As he goes to grab a lighter from his pocket, Alcina snatches the cigar from his mouth and breaks it in half, dumping it onto the counter in front of him.

"The fuck was that for?!"

"You cannot smoke in here!"

"You're such a fucking buzzkill." He mutters, rolling his eyes and taking another drink from the bottle. "Cassie I don't know how the fuck you put up with this shit every goddamn day."

Cassandra snickers and Alcina shoots daggers at her. Rolling her eyes at her mother, Cassandra turns around and continues putting away the glasses.

Karl finishes off his beer and lets out an obnoxiously loud burp. Alcina scrunches her face in disgust and wafts the air between them away from her.

"You are a truly vile human being." She says.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry I don't meet your standards, princess." He replies. "Hey Cass, get me another round will ya?" He says, slapping his hand down on the bar.

"Absolutely not." Alcina says. "I will not have you come in here, make a scene, drink all of our imported beers and pay not as much as a dime for them. Up! Go," she says, shooing him away from the bar. "get the table and get the hell out of my establishment!"

"Someone's in a great fuckin' mood this morning. What happened, woke up on the wrong side of your coffin?"

"Karl you are testing the very little patience I have left." She says through her teeth.

"Hah! You? Having patience? I didn't know you were a comedian."

Alcina squeezes her eyes shut and rubs at her temples as Karl gets up and starts to head towards the door. As he turns around he sees you and Chris standing near the door leading to the offices.

"Ho shit! If it ain't the fancy CFO himself!" Karl belts across the tasting room before meeting Chris halfway. "Howya doin' ya son of a bitch?" He says, shaking his hand.

"Karl my man!" Chris says. "I've been good, keepin' busy. How about yourself?"

"Hope slenderwoman hasn't been too rough on ya!" He says before laughing too loud, earning another eye roll from Alcina. "And not bad, not bad. Your boss here commissioned some kind of table from me so I'm just droppin' it off. Nice excuse to ruffle a few feathers too if you know what I mean." He says, nudging Chris in the ribs and laughing. "And who is this little lady here?" He says, looking over at you.

Not a second later you hear Alcina's heels stomping in your direction, looking up you see her eyes narrowed at the back of his head.

"I'm Katie, the new marketing and social media strategist."

"Karl Heisenberg," he says, taking your hand in his. "the pleasure is all mine." He gives you a small bow before kissing the back of your hand and letting it go.

The action took you by surprise a bit and you swore you saw steam come out of Alcina's ears as she walks up behind him. Karl lets your hand go and Alcina grabs him by the back of his jacket and begins to pull him away.

"Will you keep your filthy hands off of my staff? God only knows when the last time you washed them!" She hisses before whipping him around and pushing him towards the door. "Go!"

"What?! Is this how you treat family here?! What kind of establishment is this?!"

"One I will have you removed from if you don't get that table this instant!"

"Alright, alright! Don't get your panties in a twist. I'm going, I'm going!"

Alcina lets out a huff and brings her fingers to pinch the bridge of her nose. After gathering herself she turns back towards you and Chris and makes her way over.

"I do apologize for my little brother, he is quite feral."

"Ah come on Alci, he isn't so bad!" Chris says and Alcina shoots him a glare.

"I told you, do not call me that. And that man is insufferable at best." She turns towards you. "I do apologize for his behavior."

"Don't worry about it, really, it's okay." You say with a smile.

The doors open once more and you can hear Karl barking orders to the guys lugging the table in. Alcina physically cringes as they bang into the doorframe while trying to get it inside.

"Ay! Watch it! That table is worth more than what you get paid in a month!" Karl yells.

"If you will excuse me." Alcina says before making her way over to the men and directs them where to go.

Both you and Chris take that as your cue to leave so the two of you head back to your offices.

"Told ya you'd wanna see that." He says with a satisfied smirk.

"See what? Ms. Dimitrescu and her brother?"

"Yeah! I've never seen anyone else be able to get her riled up so easily. Just his presence is enough to make the woman lose her shit."

"I guess." You say

It aggravated you a little seeing Chris find so much enjoyment from watching Alcina get frustrated and riled up. If anything, you felt bad for the woman. Luckily you and your sister got along great but it would probably piss you off too if you had a sibling that was to blatantly rude and dismissive in your place of work. If anything it's probably as embarrassing as it is annoying.

The rest of the walk back to your office was quiet, much to your surprise Chris seemed to get the hint that you weren't in the mood to revel in Alcina's misery and didn't say anything else. When you sat down at your desk you finally able to get started on today's work.

A few minutes later you hear heels on the tiled floor and see Alcina walk past your office. She looked less than thrilled for the couple of seconds you were able to see her. The door to her office opens and a minute later you hear it close and she walks past you again. Thinking nothing of it, you dive back into answering emails.

Once your inbox was taken care of you go to check your to-do list to see what you needed to prioritize for the day. Digging through your bag you realize you must have left your notebook in the car so you grab your keys and head out the side door towards the parking lot.

As you open the door the smell of fresh air quickly changes into the smell of cigarette smoke. Looking over, you see Alcina leaning up against the brick wall with a cigarette perched between two fingers.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know you were out here." You say as you close the door behind you.

"No need to apologize. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just left my notebook in my car." You reply.

Alcina brings the cigarette to her perfectly painted red lips and takes a long drag before pulling it away. She turns her head away from you and exhales the smoke. Usually you found smoking to be unattractive but somehow every single thing this woman does is attractive as hell. You'd put money on the fact that she could shovel a pile of shit and still look good while doing it.

You make your way to your car and find your notebook on the floor of the passenger side. Walking back over to Alcina you notice her eyes are still on you.

"I didn't know you smoked." You say as you walk up to her and immediately wish you kept your mouth shut. Why would you say that? What a stupid thing to say.

Alcina chuckles as she takes another drag before exhaling again.

"Yes, it's truly a disgusting habit I've yet to break. I had been doing well, however, my brother certainly knows how to get under my skin."

"I get that, siblings definitely know how to rile each other up."

"He is a man-child. A petulant fool." She grumbles.

As you chuckle a van drives by and slows down. In the drivers seat you see Karl. He blares on his horn a few times as he drives by, causing both you and Alcina to jump. Your hands fly up to your ears and Alcina visibly winces at the noise.

"Nenorocitul acela." Alcina grumbles under her breath as she sticks her pinky in her ear. (That fucking moron).

She takes another drag from her cigarette and looks over at you.

"You said your daughter is starting daycare this week?"

Her question took you by surprise for a second, you definitely weren't expecting Alcina to remember that from the conversation you had last week.

"Yes! She starts tomorrow." You say with a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. Truthfully, you were excited that Emma was going to spend time with other children her age and be able to socialize more, but the thought of sending her to daycare also gave you a lot of anxiety.

Alcina notices your apprehension even though you hide it well in your voice. It brought her back to when the girls were little and she sent them off to daycare for the first time. Granted, it was more of a private school than daycare, but leaving the girls behind and going to work was still anxiety-inducing for her.

"Nervous?" She asks before taking another drag of her cigarette.

Knowing Alcina was asking about you, you decide to divert your answer.

"Oh Emma is really excited. She wasn't sure at first but as soon as she saw all of the toys they had she was thrilled. She was very upset that she wasn't able to stay the day we did the tour."

"I was asking about you." She said with a smile.

"Oh."

"I remember when I dropped the girls off at daycare for the first time. I think I cried more than they did." She says with a chuckle. You notice a faraway look in her eye as she thinks back on the memory.

Alcina walked down the large, ornate hallway with Cassandra's tiny had in hers. In Cassandra's other hand, Bela clung tightly to her. When they arrived to the classroom the girls' daycare teacher greeted them at the door.

"Good morning! You two must be Cassandra and Bela." She says with a warm smile.

Bela and Cassandra clung to each other tighter, staring between Alcina and their new teacher. Alcina bends down and runs her fingers through Cassandra's dark hair.

"Girls, do you remember your teacher? Ms. Jackson?"

Bela's blue eyes scan the room as she holds onto her sister.

"Eu vreau sa merg acasa." She says quietly as tears begin to fill her eyes. (I want to go home).

"It will only be for a little while, draga. I'll be back before you know it." Alcina says, turning both girls to face her. She wipes the tears from Bela's cheeks and shushes her. "Nu plânge, e în regulă draga mea." (Don't cry, it's alright my darling).

"Vreau să merg acasă, te rog." Bela says as her voice trembles. (I want to go home, please).

"How about you give it a try? I have to go to work, but then we will go back home and we can play with your toys." Alcina says.

"No!" Bela yells, taking Alcina by surprise. "Vreau să merg acasă la mami! O vreau pe mama mea!" She cries. (I want to go home to mommy! I want my mommy!).

Alcina can feel her heart breaking in her chest. Cassandra's eyes begin to fill with tears as she watches her big sister cry. Even though she's only a year younger than Bela, she still understands that so much has changed and that they're no longer with their mother.

"O vreau pe mama mea." Cassandra whimpers before she starts to cry as well. (I want my mommy).

Wrapping her arms around the two little girls, Alcina pulls them into her and they grab onto her shirt and jacket as they cry.

"Shh, shh. Nu plânge fetele mele dragi, nu plânge. Va fi bine, doar respira, totul va fi bine." She says softly as she rubs circles across their backs as she tries to soothe them. (Don't cry my sweet girls, don't cry. It's going to be alright, just breathe, everything is going to be alright).

Their small cries chip away at Alcina's already fragile heart. She squeezes her eyes shut, refusing to shed a tear, refusing to let the girls - or anyone else for that matter - see her cry.

After taking a few deep breaths, Alcina begins to quietly hum the girls' favorite lullaby. She may still be brand new to parenting, but the one thing she figured out that works was singing to the girls in their native language. It was one of the few things that have been able to calm them when they were upset or scared. Alcina's mother would sing it to her and her sister when they were young. One night when she was at her wits end, she began singing it for Bela and Cassandra and they immediately began to calm down. It's been her go-to ever since.

The girls finally stop crying and Alcina pulls away enough to look at the two of them. As heartbreaking as it was, she couldn't help but think of how cute they looked. Bela's blue eyes and Cassandra's hazel eyes always looked brighter after they cried. Even their flushed cheeks and runny noses made them look cute. Alcina cupped each of their faces and wiped away their tears before placing a kiss in the center of each of their foreheads.

The girls looked up at her and it was almost pitiful. So much of her wanted to just take them home but she had to go to work and she had to let them go. Taking both of their small hands into each of hers, she looked both girls in the eye.

"I know it's frightening, I know you girls are scared, but I am coming back. I promise, I will be back and we will all go home together, okay?" The both nodded at her as tears began to fill their eyes once more. "No more tears my darlings, alright? No more tears." She says as she wipes away the stray tears from their cheeks. "I need both of you to be brave? Okay? Bela, I need you to look after your sister, to be protect her, alright?" Bela looks at Cassandra and back at Alcina and nods. "Cassandra, I need you to look after your sister, to be brave for her, can you do that for me?" Cassandra wipes her nose and nods at Alcina.

She strokes their hair before pulling the girls back in for a tight hug.

"Vă iubesc, vă iubesc atât de mult fetelor. Mă întorc, promit dragilor mei. Mă voi întoarce după tine. Nu te voi lăsa." Alcina whispers to them before giving them one last squeeze and letting go. (I love you, I love you girls so much. I'm coming back, I promise my darlings. I'll come back for you. I will never leave you).

Alcina stands up and straightens out her shirt and jacket. She takes the girls hands in each of hers and guides them to their teacher. Ms. Jackson smiles down at the girls and points out all of the toys scattered around the room. Cassandra eyes a baby doll and another little girl picks it up. The girl sees Cassandra and walks over to her.

"Play?" The little girl asks.

Cassandra looks up at Alcina and Alcina smiles down at her.

"Go ahead darling, go play."

Cassandra hesitantly releases Alcina's hand and looks at Bela, reaching out towards her. Bela's grip on Alcina tightens and Alcina strokes her hair.

"It's alright love, go play with them."

Bela looks up at Alcina who nods. After contemplating for a moment, Bela takes Cassandra's hand and the three little girls make their way over to the rug and begin playing with the toys.

Alcina takes the opportunity while they are distracted to thank the teacher and leave before they see her again. With her heart still breaking in her chest, Alcina makes it to her car and starts the engine.

Before she can pull away, the floodgates open. She grips the steering wheel and rests her forehead against her hands as she cries. Different emotions bubble up, but the strongest one is anger.

She's angry that the girls were put through so much at such a young age. She's angry at how unfair the last few months have been for them. Angry at the situation she herself was put in.

Alcina slams her fist against the steering wheel before pulling herself together. She takes her makeup bag from her purse and fixes her makeup before taking one last deep breath and driving away.

You can see memories flash across Alcina's eyes, memories you know nothing about. But you can see the emotions in her eyes, worry, sadness, and anger. Alcina snaps out of it and takes another drag of her cigarette and exhales.

"It's certainly not easy," she says. "the first few times are the most difficult, but eventually they were so excited the girls didn't even say goodbye when they ran through the doors." She says with a laugh.

"I'm sure we'll get there, but like you said, the first few times are gonna be rough."

"I have no doubts that the two of you will do great." She says with a smile.

With one last drag of her cigarette, Alcina puts the butt into the cigarette receptacle.

"Shall we?" She asks, nodding towards the door.

"Oh! Yeah." You say sheepishly.

Alcina opens the door and holds it for you. "After you."

"Thank you." You say with a smile before the two of you head back in.

#willalove75 #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #wlw fanfic #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu fanfic #alcina dimitrescu x oc #alcina x female reader #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #re8 lady dimitrescu #lady alcina #lady dimitrescu x oc #lady dimitrescu x original character #alcina dimitriscu x reader #re8 alcina #resident evil alcina #alcina dimitrescu x original character

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howellatme-writes · 6 months

Text

Tomb Buster

Steven Grant x gn!reader, hints of Marc Spector gn!reader

Summary:

You returned from a trip abroad and are trying to get the spare key back to the apartment from Steven. However, you are unable to catch either of the boys due to their busy schedule, and you start to wonder if they are ignoring you.

Themes and warnings: Neighbors, Neighbors to lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hints of abuse, not beta-read, no use of y/n, gender-neutral reader (If I missed any warnings pls, let me know, and I'll add!)

Made for Moon Knight-cember Day 17/18: Rainy Day and/or VHS tape

Word Count: 3.4k

Author's Notes: First fic on my new writer's blog! I probably won't post very often, but I thought it would be nice to have a spot for my fics on Tumblr! Also, the first time I tried to specifically stay gender neutral with the reader, if I missed any pronouns, feel free to let me know!

It had been a few days since you returned from the trip abroad, and you still couldn’t catch Steven to get the spare key back to your apartment. His schedule was often the opposite of yours, and every time, you just continued to miss each other by mere minutes to and from the system’s various jobs. The responses to your texts to meet up the past few days were from Marc. They were short and avoidant, unlike the flirty, flowery texts Steven would send you featuring selfies with the plants he had watered for that day.

One night, Steven initiated a late-night video chat, trying to cheer you up after a difficult night with your parents and co-workers. Then you realized the neighbor across the hall might have liked you more than you thought. His tired smile while he lay in bed at 2 in the morning, the freshly showered curls he brushed out of his face while he consoled you and let you vent about your issues made you realize you liked him back just as much. He told you about his boss, Donna, while you told him about your equally horrible boss while you’re stationed across the pond for work. Towards the end of your trip, you were starting to miss your home away from home more than you enjoyed being in your hometown, and it desperately showed in another Facetime call.

Marc started fronting the last few nights before you flew home, and the conversations were short. There were no selfies with your plants. He would just text, “Watering is done.” or “This cat’s shits are the worst thing I ever smelled.” Steven didn’t front as much, but his presence was still there. He even added googly eyes to the potted plants just to make you smile and laugh. Marc had sent you a phone with the caption, “I guess Steven snuck in when I thought I was asleep.” By the time you boarded your flight back to London, you were yearning to talk to Steven again, but it didn’t seem like you had that connection with Mark.

It was a rainy day, and you had just taken some of your propagated spider plants and potted them in some small terracotta pots when you checked your phone once again to see when you could meet up with Steven or Marc to get your spare key back. Nothing. You sat on the couch, placed the little spider plants on the coffee table, and leaned your elbows on your knees, your hand holding your chin as you huffed out a sigh, looking aimlessly around your apartment. If they weren’t interested, they would at least give you your key back, right? Hell, even just slide it under your door and never speak to you again. That was an option, too, right? Why are the boys stalling?

You reached to the sheet of googly eyes left by Steven and placed two eyes on each side of the plants’ pots. You couldn’t help but chuckle, and you decided to take it to the next level by reaching to grab a Sharpie to draw mouths to accompany each pair of eyes. On one side of the pot, a sad face with a tear, the other a smiley face. You did that with two of the pots, turning the sad faces towards you. You study them and pull out your phone, taking a picture of the tragic little spider plants, turn the pots, and repeat with the other side. Feeling mischievous and opening the texts, scrolling down to find their number, you attach the picture of the sad pots with the caption: “The plants miss you.” and hit send, waiting for his reaction.

After a few hours of sound sleep, you gradually become aware of a faint buzzing sound. As you start to stir and open your eyes, you realize your phone is on the table next to you, vibrating with incoming messages. You stretch your arms and legs, feeling your cat's weight on your chest and the warmth of its fur against your skin. Slowly, you sit up on the couch, blinking and yawning before picking up your phone. You squint at the screen, adjusting to the brightness, and see that two new texts are waiting for you. Your heart skips a beat as you realize they're from Steven, the person you've been waiting to hear back from. As you unlock your phone, your cat moves to the opposite end of the couch and curls up, seemingly undisturbed by your sudden movement.

“We should turn those plants' frowns upside down! -S” sent the text at 6:00 pm.

“???”- Was the last text sent at 9:00 pm.

The clock on the wall showed 9:52 PM, and you let out a deep sigh. You walked up to the window and glanced outside, only to see that it was pitch black and raining heavily. You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment, as you knew that you had probably missed meeting up with the boys again. You knew that Marc often picked up late-night shifts, but he never told you what he did.

With a tiny sliver of hope, you slide your phone into your pocket and pick up the two plants you had meant to give Steven. You stepped into some comfy slippers, went to his apartment across the hall, and knocked on the door, hoping he was home.

“Just a moment!” Steven calls, and you smile, feeling your heart start to race. After weeks of texting back and forth, you finally get to see him in person. After hearing several locks hurriedly being undone, Steven swings the door open to greet you, “Evenin’ Looking to get your spare key back?” breathing heavily, messy, damp curls in his face with an awkward smile and wrinkled brow. “Oh, you brought plants over?” he looked down at the two small plants with sad faces facing him.

“To be fair, they missed you. Look at them!” You try and smile. “I thought you might like them. A little extra thank you for caring for my cat and plants..”

“Oh. Oh! Thank you!” Steven said wide-eyed, “You can come on in if you like. I think Marc left your key by the fridge.” he gestured, letting you inside.

You step inside and kick your slippers off, looking around in awe at the sheer number of books. You could tell he had a lot of books from the video chats, but the amount of books covering the bookcases and every surface in his flat was beyond your imagination, “Wow… you have your books, I have my plants.”

“I’m not bothering you boys or anything, am I?” you ask distantly. Despite the clutter, the flat just had this cozy feel, like you’d want to sit on a couch and curl up with Steven, blankets, tea, and a book.

“Ahhh yeah. Usually, I do a lot of reading when I can’t sleep.” Steven confessed sheepishly, rubbing his neck, “Would you like a cuppa or anything?” He asked from his tiny kitchen, already grabbing two cups from the cupboard.

“Yeah, sure,” you say, studying the makeshift furniture before you. A wooden top balancing upon half an end table and a sawhorse, with a small desk lamp on the left side, formed the kitchen table. Papers, maps, dirty dishes, and a magnifying glass lay on the table with other small tchotchkes. You walked past it to take in the rest of Marc and Steven’s flat, realizing it probably wasn’t the safest, sturdiest place for his first two plants.

“No. No!” Steven said quickly, “Not sure what Marc was doing before, but judging from the wet hair, probably a shower or somethin’.” Steven suggested offhandly as he put the kettle on.

Steven comes after you and grabs the plants from you, not noticing the hat or gloves. “Sorry about the mess. I’d blame Marc, but he’s always nagging at me to clean. Just never thought we’d have company.” He scurries around as if trying to find a spot to put them. Eventually, he settles, puts the plants on a small coffee table, and rushes to clear the couch of cardboard boxes before gesturing for you to sit down.

You walk further into the flat to see his desk against the skylight. It was still just as cluttered as the makeshift table, but at least the desk didn’t look like it would break with adding a plant or two, but space would have to be made for them. You shuffled around, and your foot bumped into something wet, a newsboy hat and leather gloves tucked under the desk, presumably damp from the rain.

You sit down on the worn leather couch and smile at him, moving one of the open boxes into your lap, just happy he was shifting all this stuff around to make space for you in the apartment, “It’s no problem, really. I was the one that just knocked on your door, no warning.”

“To be fair, Marc should’ve spent the last little bit sorting the place out instead of doing whatever he was doin'. Taking a shower, maybe; everything feels a little damp’,” Steven murmured as he sat on the couch. “ I-I was hoping you would come over, though,” he said, interlocking his own fingers together, not sure what to do with them, before just setting them down on his thighs.

“It’s fine. Really.” you try to reassure Steven, scooting closer to him on the couch, holding the box to your chest. “My apartment was totally deep-cleaned before I left. It’s usually not that clean, a little more cluttered.”

“Oh, yeah? Feel a bit better ‘bout this then.” Steven gestured to his organized chaos of the hastily moved boxes around the both of you.

You move a bit closer to him again under the guise of setting the box by your feet, “How was the flight? Still got any jet lag?” he quietly asks as you set the box down, and a well-worn VHS cover catches your eye, not even recognizing he was trying to make small talk.

You lean forward and pick the VHS up, “What's this relic of the past doing here?” I flip it over and read the title out loud, trying to tease him light-heartedly. “Tomb Buster? Huh. What sort of Off-brand Indiana Jones, B- movie, is this?” you chuckle, holding it up to Steven to show him without looking at the cover.

Steven froze like you had just found something extremely private and personal. “Well…uh-um-” his mouth open and shut, repeatedly struggling to find the words to say. Your brow furrows in confusion, wondering why the movie created such a reaction. He looks at his reflection on the TV in shock.

You turn the VHS tape around and look at the cover more closely. Moving your thumb, you quietly read the wording at the bottom of the VHS tape, “When danger is near, Steven Grant has no fear?”

Steven darted nervously from the TV fearfully back to you, and he gulped audibly, speaking in a bit of a shaky voice “It’s one of Marc’s all-time favorite movies as a kid. It’s important to him, and he says he’s offended you called it ‘off-brand Indiana Jones.’”

“Oh.” You look back at the TV but don’t see what Steven sees. You spy the VHS player next to the Blu-ray, both covered in a thin layer of dust. “Have you ever seen it?” you ponder curiously.

Steven heaves a heavy sigh and takes the VHS tape from your hands, his warm fingers lingering on top of your own before placing the tape aside, “No. I haven’t.” he confessed quietly, looking up at you with sorrowful eyes. “Don’t think I’ll live up to my namesake.”

“Steven?” your hands reach out to grasp his again, feeling them tremble slightly. You rub the back of his hands with your thumbs, hoping to ease his anxiety.

“I’m not- I’m just something that Marc made up,” he whispered, ashamed, looking down at the VHS tape, “I found out when I saw- the movie poster one day. In his childhood bedroom.” He seemed to zone out for a moment, but when the kettle started whistling, it was like he had jumped out of his skin. He got up without a word, walking quickly to the stove as if thankful for the out in the conversation.

Steven sniffed as he grabbed a tin of tea bags from the cupboard trying to change the subject, “English Breakfast? Chamomile? I have lots. Take your pic.”

You felt awful as you stared down at the VHS tape. Dr. Steven Grant looked back at you as if judging you harshly. The plants' faces that felt comical mimicked the sadness of the heavy topic in the air. It never crossed your mind to ask who was the original and who was the alter. Part of you assumed it was Steven because you saw him the most between the two boys.

You slowly get up from the couch, follow him into the kitchen, and boldly wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. Steven freezes again, avoiding your gaze, “Chai. I don’t care which one of you is original.” you murmur, resting your head against his shoulder as he slowly prepares his tea. You sighed, your breath on his neck making his hair stand on end, your lips almost brushing against his neck. “Our texts, the late-night Facetime, they were real, right? I always looked forward to your texts. There was something real between us, right?”

Steven nodded as he reached out to pick up the chai tea packet and tore it open. He then dunked the tea bag into the water for you. You tried to catch his gaze as you leaned against the counter to gauge his reaction. He seemed lost in thought, rocking against the countertop and staring straight into space. Finally, he looked at you and began pouring out his emotions. "But I'm not real!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking. "How could you be happy with us? Marc said you'd be daft to care about someone as bonkers as us. He doesn't know why I told you about us in the first place. He thinks we should keep our distance..."

“Steven! Marc!” you exclaim, trying to break his downward spiral, physically turning him into you, your hands grabbing his arms, almost wanting to shake some sense into him “I don’t care! I do care! I mean-”

His lips crash on yours, and before you know it, your hands find his curls, still a little wet from earlier, and he’s leaning against you, his hands on either side of you on the counter. As your cheeks touch, you can feel the tears that spilled down his, dampening your own. As you feel him suck your lower lip, he moves his hands to your hips. After a second, he pulls back, his face tinted with blush, apologizing profusely, “Sorry-I-shouldn’t have- I never- Not like this-”

“It’s okay. It’s more than okay.” I smile, caressing his cheek before kissing him again softly, trying to convey how much you care while your lips move against his.

“We should have a sit-down, yeah?” Steven asked quietly after a minute. You grabbed your mugs and moved back to the couch to sit. Steven takes a bit sip of his tea before setting it down on the coffee table. “I didn’t realize I was created to help Marc until very recently-” he began, and you reached out and rested your hand over his. “The way I found out wasn’t ideal. It was actually pretty traumatic.” He looked over at his reflection on the TV, pausing the conversation as your heart raced.

“Is Marc saying something?” you question

“It’s like we can see and hear each other in reflections sometimes. I don’t know how it works, but it does.” Steven comments, still looking at the black TV screen, before turning to meet your gaze again, “You know we have D.I.D, but I never told you why-”

“Oh Steven, it’s okay, I don’t need to…,” you try to say, squeezing his hand as you set my mug of tea down by the VHS tape. Steven’s guard came down with a small sigh of relief. “Steven, you or Marc can tell me when you’re ready. It doesn’t need to be tonight. We can just hang out or something.”

“Thank you.” Steven smiled earnestly. He looked back down at Tomb Busters and grabbed the tape, “Marc says we need to watch this ‘cinematic masterpiece’ before we trash talk it.”

He looked at the back of the VHS, reading the synopsis. “Here, you’ll find archaeologist Grant up to his neck in danger and -spiders- up to his kneecaps in crawling arachnids. Steven hates spiders!!” he hums and nods in agreement. “He hates Nazis, too, and he’ll stop at nothing to keep those goose-stepping goons from obtaining the mystical statue of Coyolxauhqui.”

“Sounds like Indiana, but he hates snakes.”

It takes a minute to set it up, but Tomb Buster is playing on the TV as you snuggle into Steven under a blanket. It was almost like Marc and Steven were watching the movie with you. Steven repeated Marc’s commentary as the film went on, and much to your enjoyment, Marc even confessed that the movie was indeed a lot cheesier now that he was watching it as an adult. You were surprised Marc didn’t front to watch it himself, but it seemed like he wanted Steven to have some sort of positive experience with his namesake on the tv.

It was easy to pick up on some of the mannerisms that belonged to both the Steven on screen, and the Steven that gradually shifted to holding you as the movie continued. You would give his hand a slight squeeze or kiss his cheek when something was recognized, hoping it wasn’t too much of a challenging experience to see Marc’s muse for Steven on screen, but if it was, he never lot on. The movie concluded with a hint of a sequel, but after a quick internet search, you find the sequel never made it past the writer’s room.

“Float like a butterfly, sting like a Bee. My name is Steven with a V.” Steven sighed, disappointed when the movie finished. “I thought I came up with that.”

“When did you say that?” you ask, looking up at him.

“A while ago.” he spoke, gazing at you tenderly, “Watching Dr. Grant was odd, but it wasn’t as weird as I thought it would be. Thank you for watching it with us.”

You smile at him and sit up, glancing at the clock on your phone. It was nearly midnight. “Do you have work in the morning?” I asked quietly

Steven shrugs it off, “Yeah, but I don’t sleep much, remember? I’d Facetime you until 2 am at least.”

“I remember. Seeing you lay in bed, I couldn’t help but think your chest would make a good pillow.” you admit, feeling your cheeks heat up at the confession, “and I was right.”

Steven's face flushed with a tinge of pink as he leaned forward and whispered in your ear, his lips brushing against your skin. "Can I kiss you again?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest. You nodded, leaning towards him, but he suddenly shifted his position, reaching for the spider plants nearby and hiding their googly-eyed expressions. "Don't need the spider plants watching us, do we?" he quipped, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You couldn't help but laugh at his comment, burying your head in his neck before your lips met again in another slow, passionate kiss. Steven seemed a little unsure of what to do with his hands, but he eventually rested them on your hips, his fingers trailing up and down your sides in a soft caress.

As you leaned your head against Steven's, you whispered breathlessly, "Maybe I don't need that spare key back after all."

You could feel his chest rumble with a soft chuckle as he responded, "Nah." He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as your lips met once more, the world around you fading away as Steven held you in a sweet embrace.

#mkcember2023 #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant #steven grant x you #Tomb Busters #moonknight #moon knight system #marc spector #steven grant x gender neutral reader #steven grant x y/n #Moon Knight #moonknightcember

65 notes · View notes

plussizefantasia · 7 months

Text

Dr. Encyclopedia

Flufftover Day 26: Coffee Shop

Spencer Reid x reader

Word Count: 1.2k

AN: I kind of went off prompt here, but I really like where it ended up. My requests are still open for things to write after October is done so send them in. Reblogs and Feedback are really appreciated. I'll see y'all tomorrow!

ps. all the facts in here were googled so they might be wrong, but who knows?

divider credit @royallaesthetics

You weren’t planning on spending your entire morning in the quaint little coffee shop that you walk past on your way to work, but the raging storm outside dictated that you wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. You had your work laptop and could do some of your tasks from pretty much anywhere, minus team meetings but you didn’t have one of those today. You sent off a quick text to your boss letting her know that you'd be avoiding arriving at the office sporting the drowned rat look and would be there when the rain let up. She had told you not to sweat it and that she’d see you when you got there.

A similar story to yours was playing out on the other side of the shop. A very fidgety Spencer Reid was on the phone with Hotch letting him know that he was stranded in the little coffee shop and bakery he went to every morning. Because Spencer didn’t like to drive, he walked this way to get to the train that would take him a block away from Quantico, but like you also was trapped by the torrential downpour lest he soak through his sweater and catch a cold.

“Hotch, it’s raining pretty hard here, I don’t think you want me trying to make it there in this weather.” You were unable to hear the other side of the conversation “Yeah, okay. Yes. Yes. Sir, I will bring you one of the muffins you like.” You let out a little chuckle at the handsome stranger’s negotiating skills.

“Boss man not happy?” you queried.

“Oh,” the man looked between his phone and you, “he’ll be okay. He loved the banana nut muffins from here.”

“Hmm. Did you know that the banana plant is the largest plant in the world without a woody stem? The trunk is just banana leaves intertwined around each other making a strong base.” You offered. You found that fun facts were a great way to break the ice, and if this man was to be your only real company besides the busy-looking barista behind the counter until the rain ended, you wanted to get off on the right foot.

“I did. Did you know that the first discovery of coffee’s stimulant effects was made by 15th-century goats?” He replied, nodding his head at the coffee cup you were holding.

‘Goats?” You asked.

“Yes, they were found by the locals in a small Brazilian town and were more energetic than the average goat, causing the coffee plant to be found and its use deduced.”

“Well, that is just about the funnest fact I’ve ever heard.” You told him, pushing your hand out to offer the man a handshake.

“Oh, I don’t shake hands. You transfer fewer germs by kissing than shaking hands.”

You put your hand down, “what is your name?”

‘Spencer Reid.” He handed you a business card with his name on it from somewhere on his body, you weren't sure. It was like it had just appeared.

You read the card. “FBI, huh? So you’re like real important aren’t you.”

‘I don’t know about that the FBI employs about 35,000 people across the US, I’m just one man.”

“One man, who knows a lot about caffeinated goats.”

“I know a lot about a lot of things.”

“Prove it.” You had challenged. With a raise of his eyebrow, he followed your instructions. For the next hour and a half the two of you sat at a small table in the corner of the shop, the only customers in the whole place. Rain beat against the windows and the light outside dimmed, being replaced with a sort of grey sheen that seemed to bathe the whole interior of the shop in a bittersweet melancholy.

Spencer and you went fact for fact, he was polite enough not to admit that he knew all of the facts you had presented already, or tell you that a few of them were wrong. He was astonished that you were willing to listen to his rambling for so long. The only person who could really stand to listen to him for a long period of time was JJ and her record was 45 minutes, you were going into hour two.

“So, Mr. FBI. How do you know so many wonderful things?”

‘I was kind of a lonely kid, I graduated early from every school I was in, and didn’t have many friends so I turned to books. And when you have an eidetic memory, you learn a lot of things.”

“I didn’t have many friends either,” you reassured him, not wanting him to stew in his vulnerability alone, “I taught myself all kinds of things. How to sew, how to make chicken cordon blue, growing vegetables.” you sighed sort of wistfully. “Looking back, they aren't very impressive skills but I love them growing up.”

‘I don’t know about not impressive, I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever owned.” Spencer admitted. “I think your skills sound pretty great.”

“Yeah? Well, I think being a walking encyclopedia is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

The two of you just sat in the pleasant silence for a little bit. Both are a little shy after so many compliments. Spencer’s phone rang.

“Dr. Reid.” He answered giving you an apologetic look and standing up from the table.

Dr. Reid. He hadn’t told you he was a doctor, you want to know what his PhD was in. YOu wanted to know all about him, you wanted to know him.

“Reid, where are you?” Hotch asked.

“I told you that I was in the shop, I’d be there when the rain was over.

“Reid. The rain is over, the rain has been over for twenty minutes.” Spenser immediately shot his head towards the window of the shop. Hotch was right, there were still water droplets that clung to the glass, but the downpour had stopped. The clouds had passed and several rays of sunlight were beginning to seep into the space.

“I- I didn’t even notice. I’ll be there soon. With your muffin.” Spencer hung up before Hotch could reply. He turned back to the table the two of you had taken up.

“Did you notice that the rain had stopped?” He asked. You also looked out the window. You let out a soft chuckle.

“No, I didn’t. How long has it been done?”

‘According to Bossman, about twenty minutes.”

“Jesus. I guess we really got lost in our own bubble there.” You supplied

‘I guess we did.” Spencer lingered. It had been years since he met someone who was able to keep his attention like that. “Would you um, would you like to get coffee again sometime?” He asked.

You couldn't fight the beaming smile that took up the bottom half of your face. “I’d love to. Dr. Reid.”

“Okay, Yeah. Good. Umm, call me?” Spencer bumbled, reaching for the brown paper bag that held Hotch’s muffin and grabbing his satchel bag from the back of his seat.

“I will.” You lifted up the card he had given you in between your fingers. “I definitely will.”

Spencer backed out of the shop, looking at you the entire time. And only when he was out of your eyeline did he let himself celebrate. He would have to tell Morgan, this would definitely get him off his back.

You saved Spencer’s number in your phone, under Dr. Encycolpedia, and started counting down the minutes to when you’d be able to call him. You really wanted to get coffee again.

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hyperactive-cowboy · 6 months

Text

Ok so I've never posted nor let someone else read any of my stories, so this is a little of a bet with myself but the christmas vibe in me is really strong this year, plus I started to hardly ship those two lately, so here we go.

I'd like you to let me know if there are any mistakes or if it sucks but don't be too harsh loves i'm not a native english speaker. Also the other two chapters (if I'll still be in the vibe) will surely be released before 2024. ENJOYYY

I just wanna see my baby standing right outside my door

Warnings: just fluff and angst

Ship: F1 involved!Lando Norris × not F1 involved!Oscar Piastri (established relationship)

Wc: 3.3k

Chapter: 1, 2, 3

Summary: AU where Lando is away and Oscar misses him while he prepares a christmas party to surprise his boyfriend, but someone other makes an even bigger surprise for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't the first time he woke up near a cold pillow and an empty space, he was used to it.

But still, every time he opened his eyes, surrounded by his smell, he wished to find him playing with his hair, smiling, even snoring. The only thing that mattered was that he was there.

Lando had flown away the week before to film some stupid Christmas videos for his stupid work in that stupid team.

Couldn't they film the videos while the season wasn't over yet? Absolutely no! They had to take him away from him the Christmas week.

Oscar turned around and crawled out of the bed, taking the jacket Lando used every winter morning to feel warmer. He almost never felt cold, but the familiar presence on his shoulders warmed his heart. And also he wasn't ready to leave behind the smell of chocolate and cinnamon Lando's pillow had.

He took his phone and unlocked it to see the notifications: two were from Lando (his usual "good morning" with one of his smile's pic and a big red heart), three were from Logan (who asked him if they could meet up for launch to organize the christmas party they have been talking about for a few months) and one from his boss (asking him if he could do an exchange of shifts on thursday).

Oscar answered first his boss with a "yes", and then a "yes" to Logan, for last answered his boyfriend with a "morning love❤️".

Oscar decided it was the moment to be productive, so he did breakfast and then got washed. He took a notepad and a blue pen, starting to write down some ideas for later.

After some time of brainstorming, he took his phone again and texted Lando to know if he could call him in the next few minutes.

As an answer, his phone immediately started to ring with the special ringtone he had set for when his boyfriend called him.

"Hey" as Oscar heard that stupidly sweet voice he started smiling.

"Hey"

Awkward silence

"Hi" Lando laughed.

"Hi. How is it going?"

"Everything's okay. We should film the last bit this noon, then the editing and last the return trip, and then i'll be home again"

There was a background noise, but Oscar didn't mind it.

"So you think you'll be home tomorrow afternoon?"

"Ehm… no actually I don't think I'll see you at least until friday"

"Friday??" Oscar was shocked. Usually Lando was away for not even a whole week. This time they would've taken him away for nine days. Another four days before touching his soft curls and hug him.

Oscar snorted and Lando laughed softly.

"I swear it won't feel this long. I lov-"

"Lando?"

No answers

"Hey are you there?"

Again no sounds from his phone.

He hung up and sent a message to Lando asking him what happened.

Oscar turned off his phone and looked at the clock on the wall in front of him.

He had to hurry. He was late. He was never late and the few times he had been it was all Lando's fault. Well, this time could also be considered Lando's fault.

His cell lit up for a new notification but Oscar was too busy getting ready to notice it.

He took the phone, the keys and the paper sheet with the party's ideas and rushed out of his house to lock it.

Once in the car, Oscar acknowledged the way he was dressed: a simple pair of gray sweatpants and one of Lando's hoodies. He sighed but then left out a soft laugh: this was one of the reasons why he loved having a boyfriend who wore the same size as him, having a double closet.

"You are late" is the first thing Logan says to his life-long friend

"Hey it's a pleasure to see you too"

"I've been waiting for you for the past twenty minutes" Logan opens his eyes wide to confirm his statement.

"Hey slow down I already have some ideas"

Oscar grabbed the sheet and exposed all his ideas to his friend.

They should've only launched together but the meeting lasted until half past four.

They had everything ready. Now they only needed to call their friends to invite them over.

Only after coming back home, he read Lando's text: sorry the line went dead, call me again when you can ❤ ️.

Of course Lando knew he was busy with this party organization thing, so he would've waited for him.

Oscar couldn't call him that exact moment, so he decided that the second he walked through his house's door he would've written a note on his fridge to remind himself to call his boyfriend as fast as possible.

If his calculus were correct, Lando would've landed at the airport two days after the party, the 23rd of the month. Just right in time with the Christmas celebration at his parent's.

He was mentally destroyed by the fact that Lando wouldn't have been with him at the party, but it has already been postponed enough.

Passing by the fridge not giving it even a look, Oscar selected the first person he was sure he wanted at the party.

Well, if he couldn't have his boyfriend there, he would at least have his boyfriend's best friend.

"Hey Osc, long time no see" he hears Max's voice through the phone as brilliant as in real life.

"Yeah it has been a tough period. We were planning a christmas party at our place on wednesday, are you in?" Oscar asks directly, he has a lot of people to call and a little time to do it.

"But isn't Lando away?"

"Yeah, we wanted to do this thing together, but then he was called away and we can't postpone it anymore"

Max lightly giggled. Oscar couldn't tell why, but he imagined it was because of something that was happening there.

"Yeah I think I'll be there"

"K, thanks mate. And you can come with who you want"

"Great, thanks. Bye"

After Max hung up, Oscar called a lot of the other members of the grid and some other friends, giving them the same instruction as he did before. He didn't mind calling Charles though 'cause he knew he would've come with Max (Verstappen).

When he controlled the clock for the 100th time, it was too late to have a snack, so he decided to start preparing dinner.

He was also used to cooking. Lando wasn't a total mess at it, but a little gremlin menace yes.

He took out of the freezer a couple of vegan burgers and some strange vegetable his mum was obsessed with (which he didn't remember the name of).

Closing the freezer, he got up. His sight arrived perfectly at the same height as the note he had taken before, but totally forgot about.

Oscar took a pan for the burgers and a pot for the vegetables so fast he was about to fall into the drawer. Started cooking his dinner and rushed out of the kitchen to call Lando.

"Honey I'm so so sorry I didn't call you earlier, I know it's late where you are now. You were probably asleep and I woke you up but I got so invested in this damn thing I even forgot to have a snack mid invites"

"Woah slow down there Flash. No worries, here's just two hours later than there, I just got back to my room" Lando laughed.

Oscar sighed in relief. Lando was already under enough stress, he didn't want to add to that by interrupting his sleep schedule. Although he knew his boyfriend wasn't picky when it came to places to sleep.

"Oh okay sorry. Didn't want to upset you"

"No way. You could never"

Even if Lando couldn't see him, Oscar blushed. Maybe it was a good thing Lando wasn't there with him.

"Oh thanks then. Anyway I called everybody who was on the list and got everything ready"

"Well done, did everybody confirm?"

"Mm…" Oscar checked his notes and answered with a "nope", popping the "p".

"Pierre and Daniel are not sure, but everybody else will be here" Oscar explained.

"Good. Even Max said yes?"

"Don't know which one you are asking about but yes, both of them said so"

For the nth time that day Oscar felt dumb not knowing the reason for some things that happened to him (ex. Max laughing at him on the phone) and felt even dumber thinking about those things. Of course people had their own lives beside him.

He was pretty sure it was the loneliness speaking in his mind. Still he decided to give an answer to one of those questions

"Lando, why did the line die like that before? It looked like you entered some galleries" he asked to test the waters.

"Uhm… Yeah actually there was a black out, so I think it was its fault"

"Oh okay, sorry" Oscar felt even more stupider now.

"I just wanted to hear your voice" he admitted.

"Hey baby I miss you too" Lando whispered to him.

That sentence melted his heart. He was literally dying to see his boyfriend again, and couldn't wait for Friday to arrive.

The day had arrived.

That early morning he and Logan had met to prepare his house and give him the keys, given the fact that from 10am to 4pm he would have been at work.

Max had insisted on helping them out and insidied into his house nearly earlier than his best friend.

"Don't worry. This will be the best party you've ever been to" Max assured him.

"Do I have to remind you this is MY house? Maybe I should be the one preparing it"

"We will be better than you, trust me" Logan entered the conversation.

He and Max weren't even that close, but still they were playing against him as a team.

"Okay then. Just don't burn down my home please. I would like it to be still in one piece when I come back" and with this sentence he left his house, shaking a little, in the hands of two feral menaces.

One part of him was even glad for them because he didn't think he would have made it to the night if he had to do everything by himself.

Oscar wrapped the christmas-themed scarf around his neck and prayed to every deity to let him have a peaceful day.

When Oscar got in the elevator that took him to his house he could already hear the last notes of "Santa tell me" and was almost relieved to have the certainty that the apartment was the same as how he left it. Just with some more decorations, music and lights.

Oscar slowly opened the door, being scared of something jumping on him, but instead got nearly blinded.

His two friends didn't prepare anything to scare him, but they did put up a whole lot of multicolored led lights on his ceiling.

Every piece of furniture was embellished by red, green or white christmas balls and fancy ribbons. Even the rug in his living room has changed from a neutral striped one to a "light up says one christmas tree to another". The joke wasn't even funny, but still it made him smile. They had maneged to even find a piece of mistletoe to hang under the door.

And as if he couldn't be more shocked than that, when Oscar entered his kitchen he was surprised by an extended variety of food, from olives and other snacks to a delicious-looking cake, from a not-cooked-yet roast to at least a hundred chocolate cookies with gingerbread man drawn on them.

Even more shocking was the sight of Max with a Santa stiled apron and cookie dough all over his face, while Logan was singing "Last Christmas" not getting even one note.

"What in the world you two" Oscar exclaimed.

The two friends fastly turned towards him. They hadn't heard him coming in and were a little scared at first by that reaction.

Logan and Max looked at each other not knowing what was happening, and the american instinctively stood up in front of his new friend to try and protect him.

Oscar jumped on Max and Logan, but not to hurt him. He really wanted to give them a hug. So he did.

It felt strange for him to hug someone who wasn't his parents or his sisters. Even when it was Lando doing it, it felt weird the first times (and still did a bit, to be fair).

"Thank you for everything" Oscar said when he felt his friends get comfortable in his arms.

"That's no problem mate, really" Max replied.

Oscar was on the verge of tears. For him this act mattered more than a thousand words.

Not knowing what to say, he just squeezed his friends even more.

The last guest had arrived. At the end, neither of the hypothetical two more guests could come.

Pierre had already flown away to France to spend the holidays with his family and Danny was spending his first Christmas with his girlfriend's parents (he was so nervous when he gave Oscar an answer).

The party was being wonderful until then.

Everything was at their place, all the people that mattered to him (to them) were there, all the food were cooked and ready, the music was loud but joyful and even the smell was fantastic: chocolate and gingerbread. Even Charles -in that ugly jumper- was there, he came with Max (Verstappen), like Oscar thought. So Christmas coded. Perfect.

There was just one thing missing: him. Lando.

Oscar thought about sending him a video or a picture, but then looked at the watch on his wrist. It was 10PM. Too late to try. The next day Lando would've started his return to home and he needed to be ready and rested for that.

He'd have just taken some pics and videos and sent them to Lando the next day.

Oscar decided it wasn't the right time to get sad and that he could have cried about it later that night, maybe with a mug filled with hot chocolate or a big bottle of gin.

He put his phone in the back pocket of his jeans and started chatting with Liam and some other friends from F2 and F3.

Oscar was suspicious of Max. He was surely going to do something crazy in some way. It was at least the eleventh time he had gone to the kitchen that night without a reason -all the food was in the living room and they had also bought a mini fridge and wrapped a big red ribbon around it just so they DIDN'T have to always go to the kitchen to take the drinks.

Oscar followed his friend and peeked from outside the door and saw Max giggling and jumping like a schoolgirl while he was texting someone on his phone.

Like literally. He was coordinating little jumps on the spot and moving his arms.

He was so stunned by the scene before him he didn't even realize his friend wasn't watching the phone anymore.

"Hey man no one ever told you to not overhear?" Max scolded him with a strange look on his face.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to-" his friend had closed the door in front of his face. HIS door of HIS kitchen in front of HIS face. And didn't even stutter. Because he was distracted by Max acting like some teen.

If possible, Oscar was even more astonished.

He turned around still with his mouth a little open. He headed to the drinks table and took the one which looked the most alcoholic.

If he couldn't have neither his boyfriend nor his house for his own, at least he would've gotten drunk.

He surely got drunk.

That one drink was followed by many others, every single one with a different color and taste. Some more alcoholic than others.

Oscar wanted to find someone to get absolutely wasted with. Someone like one of his oldest friends. Someone like Logan.

In fact, Oscar hadn't seen Logan for a while now.

He stood up from the armchair he had fallen into earlier and all the room around him started to rotate, "Jingle bell rock" in the speakers more powerful than ever.

He took just one step, then he felt like he was flying. Oscar didn't know how it happened but a moment later he was faceplanted in the sofa cushion.

"Mate what the-" Oscar heard a familiar voice and then two hands took him by his arms and helped him get up.

A blond lock of hair shone in Oscar's face and finally the voice and hands had also a face and a name.

"Ehy, what are you doing?" Logan sounded worried. Why was he worried? Oscar really couldn't tell. Everything was going the right way.

"It's going to be a mess" Logan looked from his right to his left and then did it again, trying to find a solution to a problem Oscar didn't even understand.

"'m kay. No worries jus lemme sit" he didn't even have the time to bend, he immediately felt transported towards the exit of the room.

"C'mon I'm helping you get ready, you shouldn't resist so much" Logan dragged him into the bathroom and opened the tap.

He stood Oscar up "I'm sorry mate" Logan said just before pushing his head right under the coldest water he had ever felt on his body.

Suddenly Oscar's irises contracted and his brain resumed part of his normal functions. He pushed away from the sink but instantly had to bow on the toilet.

When he got up and watched himself in the mirror, he was sure he had never looked this bad. His longer-than-usual hair was glued to his forehead, his skin glowed with sweat and water, half of his shirt was covered in vomit while the other one was soaked with alcohol.

Oscar thanked his best friend and opened the door, heading to the living room murmuring about needing to kick out all those people.

"No no no mate, what are you doing? We need to change your clothes and get read-" Logan talked so fastly he nearly stumbled on his words, taking Oscar by his arm and trying to move him towards the closet in his bedroom.

"Nope, I'm ending this party in ten minutes, you can stay if you want but everybody else needs to exit now. I'm not in the conditions to continue this"

"But- but you can't" Logan sounded desperate. "Okay well you can, just- just change your shirt. This one is so dirty I can't even look at it"

Oscar took another look at himself and had to admit his friend was right.

A clean and fragrant white shirt later, Oscar was entering his living room with the intention of guiding everybody out of his house.

One step in the room, the sound of his doorbell rang in the air.

Max Fewtrell ran out of the kitchen (why was he still in there?) with a crazy smile.

"My guest must've arrived" he announced directly to Oscar, inviting him to open the door.

His guest? Oh yeah the one Oscar had told him he could take with himself. But why would someone arrive this late to a party? He had no idea, but still he went to the door, opening it without even looking who was ringing through the peephole.

Oscar was drunk. Wasted even. It was surely an image created by his flooded brain to make fun of him, but when he looked around to see if anyone else could see his vision, he was hit by a hundred flash lights.

So it wasn't just his imagination.

Lando. His boyfriend. Was really on one knee in front of him, out of his door.

#f1 #formula 1 #oscar piastri #lando norris #max fewtrell #logan sargeant #landoscar #mctwinks #twinklaren #landoscar fic #oscar piastrixlando norris #f1 fluff #f1 angst

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thinkin-bout-milgram · 8 months

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Double: Initial Thoughts

Hello Milgram community! It's time to talk about Mikoto's second MV, Double! This is pretty fun for me, given that Mikoto is actually the first prisoner whose MV I watched when it came out. I have gotten so much better at theorizing. The old theory is... meh. Ignore it, it was wrong and doesn't really matter.

Though, to be honest, and I think people will agree here -- I don't feel like Double actually gave us much to work with. The biggest thing is the confirmation (in my opinion) that there for sure only are two alters, which makes things easier to figure out, not harder. Because of this, these initial thoughts might be a bit less interesting than normal. Still, I'll do my best!

T/W: Murder, toxic work environments, mental health crises, blood

For the sake of this theory, I'll be using @onigiriico's English translation of Mikoto's new audio drama, Neoplasm! Thanks as always for your great work! I'd also like to thank everyone who sent in help with the translations! I'll be using Rochisama's (@barudo's) translation post, which translates all of the Japanese background text in the MV.

Also, as you'll see in the audio drama, Es takes to calling Orekoto John and Bokuto Mikoto. I... will not be doing that. They're called Bokuto and Orekoto to me based on the personal pronouns they use.

Disclaimer: I'm for sure not an expert on DID, so if I say anything wrong/offensive please let me know so I can correct it!

Anyways though, here's what thoughts I do have!

Orekoto's alter developed as a result of stress in Bokuto's life.

This is pretty much straight-up confirmed in the audio drama.

Orekoto: … I think… I might be the person Boku wishes he was. The person who stubbornly stands his ground, who doesn’t cry himself to sleep from stress, who gives people their payback. If I, the “ore” personality, hadn’t been born, I’m sure Boku would have reached his limit and fallen apart.

Based on this, we know that there's some general stressor going on in Bokuto's life, and we know that Orekoto seems like the new alter who developed for the sake of protecting Bokuto. I believe that's what's pictured at the beginning of the MV:

The glass breaking is most likely meant to display the "fracturing" of Mikoto's identity, signifying the creation of the Orekoto alter.

The most obvious stressor in Bokuto's life seems to be work. At the beginning of the MV (0:12-0:18), we see Mikoto's phone with text messages. The text translates as follows:

Chief (7 mins ago) Regarding the first draft you submitted today, I think option B might be the best after all, so can you remake by the morning.

Chief (5 mins ago) Also I forgot to mention, but you also made a lot of mistakes with the one we spoke about earlier, so make sure it’s all fixed too. This one also needs to be ready by morning, so I’ll leave it to you to get everything ready.

It seems like his "Chief," likely the boss of his job, is demanding a lot of work from him, and Bokuto is struggling to keep up with his work. On the whole, it seems like Bokuto is kinda just struggling to cope with living.

You’re overdoing it, you’re already broken

I was having such a hard time, I was trying so hard

That's what Orekoto comes into the picture.

Orekoto killed ??? people.

We don't know how many people he may have killed! The video is... pretty nonspecific about it. There are definitely multiple mannequins that he smashed, which for sure implies multiple.

Based on MeMe, I thought it was only one person, just because it seems like he only hid one body. Based on the new audio drama, I don't think he killed multiple different times, either.

Es: Who did you kill? Orekoto: Just someone who was walking around nearby. Es: … How many did you kill? Orekoto: Can’t remember. I was first born back then, you know. It’s kinda fuzzy.

If the murder happened right around when he was "first born," it would make sense if it's only the one time, right? It's possible that this is meant to refer to a broader time frame and I'm taking "first" too literally here, but I still think it's a definite possibility that he only killed one person.

It's gonna be hard to get a confirmation on that one, since it seems like Bokuto and Orekoto don't know the actual number. Still, we can look at the crime out of context of the body count and try to determine our forgiveness of that.

Neither Bokuto nor Orekoto are coping well with the guilty verdict.

Bokuto is, understandably, distressed. He's aware enough to realize that things have changed and that something must be happening while he's "sleeping," but he still seems to have no idea what's actually happening or who Orekoto is.

Notably, in both MeMe and Double, Bokuto is seen reacting to Orekoto in at least some ways. However, the way it's portrayed, I don't really think that's a lie or feigned innocence in any way. My best guess is that it's just using the visuals of what actually happened while showing Bokuto's distress with not knowing what's happening.

Either way, Bokuto was heading straight for a mental breakdown before accidentally committing ??? murders and getting told he's guilty for it by a weird mystery prison, so it's not surprising at all that he's faring poorly.

As Orekoto hypothesizes in the audio drama, the amount of stress Bokuto is under is actually why we've seen Orekoto fronting so much more now. Orekoto exists to help Bokuto escape from the stress of his day to day life, and given that Milgram has become extremely stressful, Orekoto fronts a lot.

Orekoto isn't doing super well either, though, likely as a result of the toll everything is taking on Bokuto. He exists and did what he did solely to protect Bokuto, so the fact that it's causing Bokuto stress and potentially endangering him definitely isn't something he'd be happy about. The MV focuses on this pretty heavily at the end.

The audio drama tells us that Orekoto is perfectly willing to own up to his guilt and take the blame for what he did. He's very clear about Bokuto not having done anything, though, and insists he has no idea what was going on. He was only dreaming.

I have no idea how the end of MeMe plays into this video.

I interpreted Orekoto handing Bokuto the death card as a moment where Orekoto shows Bokuto his existence and letting him know about the murders, but like I said, I don't really believe Bokuto knows anymore. If that's the case, though, I have NO clue what that scene was supposed to mean. I can't really figure out how to piece Double and MeMe together, and based on how little I feel like I got out of Double, it concerns me to just disregard MeMe-based theories entirely.

That being said...

VERDICT: INNOCENT

Please vote him innocent. For pretty much any reason I can think of, an innocent verdict is better.

Orekoto is right when he says that Milgram clearly instructs us to judge Bokuto specifically; Orekoto isn't a prisoner in regards to restraints or rules, but Bokuto is. If you're judging based on forgiveness, if Bokuto truly didn't know, it's hard not to forgive him, even if he arguably shares guilt.

Mikoto in general is probably more likely to have a further mental breakdown if we keep applying pressure with a guilty verdict, which in turn makes him more likely to lash out in stress again and kill another prisoner. We can't restrain Orekoto, who would likely continue fronting in the face of a guilty verdict, and we already know that his high-stress coping mechanism is killing whoever walks by. It's the safer option to vote innocent.

And then there's the fact that I just, like... want to help him? Genuinely forgive him? I don't want to vote Mikoto guilty. There's no point, and I just disagree with it. I'm pretty firmly in the innocent camp on this one, and based on the votes, it seems like a lot of people agree.

#milgram #ミルグラム #admin venus #mikoto kayano #theory #milgram theory #this is kinda short and doesn't have a lot of insight #my bad but also i got nothing #i'll try to figure out how meme and double connect at some point #saturn and i are also planning on going through a bunch of the hard to read text and making a post about what it says/what we think it says #hopefully soon #lmk what you think #anyways mikoto inno sweep

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