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nanaminsmoon · 10 months

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babydaddy!connie x blackfem!reader

a/n: this one made my heart ache a little icl. but i had to put this song because it goes so well😭

pt.2

cw: pnv, unprotected sex, infidelity (reader cheats), connie calls reader; 'ma', 'hermosa', ”es bueno, ma?” ("is it good, ma?"), "quieres otro hijo, hm? you want a boy or a girl? dime, and i’ll give it to you” ("you want another kid, hm? [...] tell me, and i'll give it to you"),

wc: 3380

“why’s my daughter telling me you got a boyfriend?”, booming from where its owner was stood at the door, connie’s voice abruptly entered your ear canals to bring your attention to him. after hugging your daughter, you had kept your front door open for connie to come in if he wanted to. and, when he followed you both inside, you had just assumed he was bringing in your daughter’s belongings. even as he stuck around after having placed her bags in her bedroom, his presence was dashed to the back of your mind. now, as your child sat in the garden eating with her aunt, he was demanding your attention as he leant against the doorframe.

“because i do”, your eyes were trained on the soapy dishes in front of you, and they wouldn’t divert as you spoke. meaning you didn’t see the incredulous expression on your ex-boyfriend’s face, as his features scrunched at your straight forward response.

“the fuck you need a boyfriend for?”, he asked. confusion was laced through every word in that sentence to hold it together so it could leave his mouth. barely.

“because we can't fuck as friends forever, connie. at some point we both need to move on, and i have”, you answered, frankly. the decision to coparent came after you and connie decided to break up four years ago. and four long years had been hastened by sunday sunsets spent behind closed bedroom doors when he returned your daughter back to you. meaning that suspicions did rise when the emotions sprawled on your face, at the end of every week, had become more impassive—the lustful glimmer in your irises, dimming to a seemingly more platonic one. yet, connie never said anything, he just assumed you wanted space. that’s not to say that it didn’t bother him, but he knew that he couldn’t beg you to come back to him. as much as he did want to.

because, contrary to popular belief, connie had changed since you two broke up. having heard the news of you having a boyfriend, old connie would’ve had a video of some girl throwing ass on him seared into the back of your eyelids by sundown. but old connie had never developed an understanding of how important his family was, and new connie would lose his life before he lost his girls. yet, these two different versions of the same man still shared one similarity; their love for antagonising you.

“so you're just bringing randoms into the place my daughter sleeps?”, connie exaggerated as he always did, irritation audible in his tone. and you’d roll your eyes at him.

“first off, he's not a random, he's my boyfriend. and second, this is my house, i can bring in whoever i want”, you said, wiping a pan. that term, ’my boyfriend’, was an anvil that sunk connie’s intestines to his feet in a way he had never felt before. it was hard to put a finger on what exact feeling it induced, but he did know that it pressed his dreams, of getting his family back, into grains of sand that would escape his grasp through the growing gaps in his fingers.

“has she met him?”, he asked, cautiously, looking at his sock covered feet in the slippers you had always kept for him. in the past, that had been a gesture that made him feel at home with you; something that made him feel like you still cared for him the way he did you. but now, the slippers felt uncomfortable. like they were growing in size, and the only person capable of wearing them was someone he could never be—like he couldn’t fill them anymore, and you knew that so you had gotten someone else to do it.

“yeah, he came over and cooked us dinner and she loved it.”, you said, tone coming out more braggy than you had hoped. and that hurt connie more than it angered him, but the latter was the only thing he was capable of expressing.

“so what, you gonna marry him?”, those words were abrupt, even surprising connie’s ears. but they’d be met with a scoff from your glossed lips as annoyance built inside you. your love life was none of his concern, and he knew that, so his entitlement infuriated you beyond belief.

“i don't know, connie”, you said, vexed, as you waved him off, “even if i was, why’s that any of your business?”,

“’cause you're the mother of my child. as long as she's here, your business is my business”, the truth in that statement rested in what connie didn’t say. that being, you were the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with so, whether you liked it or not, his heart had already staked its claim on you. and he needed to know who to fend off, to keep you by his side.

no thoughts spawned in your mind at that statement, so you’d just remain silent as you continued what you were doing. that gave connie enough time to search for straws to clutch at to get you back. but he could only ever draw one. that was the one that placed a small smile on his face as his tongue swiped across his bottom lip; if connie couldn’t win your mind over, he’d try his luck at the one thing that refused to obey the former.

”so we’re done? not even one more time for the road?”, connie’s shoulder pushed his body off the doorframe, before he started making his way toward you. a stutter in your mind would replay that phrase, ’one more time for the road’, until it finally clicked.

“we're not fucking, no”, you said, avoiding eye contact.

“just quickly, ma. i know you miss it.”, connie’s smirk would only widen when his statement received no rebuttal. and it’d stay that way as he walked to stand right behind you—he’d place a hand on either side of you, pushing you right against the counter. all you could muster was a harsh swallow as connie moved closer to you, and his breath would be touching your neck as he spoke, voice lowered.

"you used to call me all the time telling me you ain't never had dick like this. and i know he ain't fucking you good enough for you to forget about me", connie’s lips brushed past your ear. a brief shudder would intensify to wring out any suppressed longing you held for him, producing a moist patch at the front of your underwear. and that was before you could even feel his desperation, to keep you his, pressing into your lower back. once that’d register, you’d have to breathe deeply to release the temptation building within you.

"i'm not cheating on my man, connie", you said, voice shaking. a sigh would fall from connie’s lips, hitting the spot on your neck they planned to cover, before transfiguring into a tingle that explored your back. one of connie’s favourite things about you was your loyalty, so that answer was expected. but he’d still kiss his teeth at the knowledge that it was now being directed toward someone else.

"then leave him", he’d say, an inch away from your neck, before his plump lips would attach to the skin there. a proprietorial mark would be etched onto your skin when connie heard you sigh out in pleasure. the erasure of all his doubts would arrive when you tilted your head to give him better access. and those doubts would then be quashed completely when your hand rose to run your fingers through his buzzcut.

a few more kisses to the neck, combined with connie’s hand venturing into the front of your leggings to rub away all loyalties to your man, affirmed connie’s statements about you missing him. but once you were in the privacy of your bedroom, he could actually feel how much you missed him; your need for him was prominent in the way you tightened around his length like you feared letting him go. this was the first time where fucking you was a welcomed struggle, pulling out of you being a necessity he wanted to avoid. mainly due to the connection of your foreheads, connie couldn’t see anything but you; the noises you made, your scent, the look he could discern in your eyes when they weren’t exploring their sockets, all of it warmed his heart in an infuriatingly delightful way. and there was no way you hadn’t missed him, and the way he knew your body inside out. the way he knew where to kiss as your legs rested over his shoulders, a pillow sat underneath your hips as your nails painted stripes onto the skin on his back. five years ago, connie fucked you in every position he could think of, but separation birthed the need for closeness. so now, whenever you two fucked, it was always in a position that allowed for his eyes to be locked with yours as his tip poked that spot that had made you nut twice already.

”es bueno, ma?”, he asked and you’d nod a reply, pulling a smile from the man above you. you were all he could see, and perhaps that’s why he saw love in everything that surrounded him.

prior to this point in his life, connie’s need to build a family with you had never been a focal point for him. but now it was all he could see; he saw it in the envy that followed him around at the sight of families happily laughing together, he saw it in the ducks dutifully trailing their mother at the pond near your house, and he felt it when the merging of you and your daughter’s giggles made his heart feel swollen in a way he could never soothe. if he had it his way, you’d both be married with four kids living in some mansion somewhere. but when push came to shove, his ideals only ever amounted to short-lived ‘conversations’ when you two were fucking,

”quieres otro hijo, hm? you want a boy or a girl? dime, and i’ll give it to you”, a fucked out mutter would always fall from your lips, and that’s the only answer he could ever get from you. because the answer you gave him any other time, tore his heart into a million pieces he had yet to locate. your boyfriend posed a new challenge for him, so connie would have to tell you how he felt before he lost you forever. feverish kisses would be placed on any skin connie would reach, as his hips sped up. pleasured mumbles would mean nothing to him, because he could feel your body warning him of your release.

”i’m yours, hermosa, just—fuck—nut on it”, he’d instruct, and your body would obey. this man was fucking you so good, you could’ve sworn you felt your soul leave its vessel, to watch you coating connie and the bed underneath you, in your arousal. and connie wouldn’t be far behind—hips losing their rhythm, and low ’fuck’s leaving his mouth before he started kissing you again.

”ifuckingloveyou”, he messily kissed onto your lips and surprise struck you so hard, you didn’t even register your own mouth speaking back to him,

”mmloveyoutoo”, those words would be enough to trigger a twitching in connie’s balls that would empty them, until he was leaking out of you.

the kiss you two shared was bittersweet, both literally and figuratively. not just due to the lingering taste of the results of your aching throat, mixing with the reason why you could still feel his lips wrapping around your clit, but also because connie felt like he was flirting with a dream that could never be realised. but that wouldn’t stop you two from losing yourself in each other and making out for a few minutes. until you’d hear a knock. all movements would be halted, and there’d be silence from behind the door. then winces, and small hisses of discomfort, would fill the space as connie pulled out of you before getting up to put his boxers on. he’d step off the bed, walking over to the door to tend to, who he thought was, his daughter.

”princesa, we’ll be out in a second, okay?”, connie shouted to the other side of the door, but the voice he heard was not the one he was expecting.

“the fuck’s going on?!”, connie’s eyes would dart back to your wide ones, before a smirk would quickly grace his face. it was clear to see that he was trying his very hardest to not burst into laughter, despite your panic being written all over you. disorientation clouded you to the point that you didn’t even realise that the shirt you decided to put on your body was connie’s. but he would. and he wouldn’t say anything, even as you walked to the door to talk to your boyfriend.

”i can explain”, is all you’d manage to get out to your man, before he’d open the door further to find connie sitting himself on the bed, covering himself with the sheets he’d just put on his lower half. the lower half of his face remained smug, but the upper half of it was focused as he watched the scene unfolding in front of him; desperate hands grappling to hold your boyfriend’s arms or hands, as he paced the room, trying to digest what he was seeing. connie’s enjoyment would be short-lived, ending when he heard the angry words your boyfriend was throwing at you.

”shoulda fucked her better, then i wouldna had to do it”, he said, still laid on the bed. the room would fall still once again, and you’d look at him in pleading. he’d shrug, but acquiesce, not saying anything after that comment. that seemed to be the final straw for your boyfriend, because he’d say something about needing to go outside before walking out.

the blustering of infuriated footsteps would fade out as you followed your boyfriend down the hallway to the front door. connie would sit in waiting, leaning against the headboard, as he contemplated what this meant for the both of you, but those thoughts would be cut short at your return. alone. it turns out, no amount of apologies or promises that this will never happen again could convince your boyfriend to stay. and, though that elated connie more than he cared to admit, he couldn’t help the lump forming in his throat at the sight of your slumped posture as you sandwiched your lip between your teeth, swallowing pained tears. that lump would block any sly comments he planned to make. in fact, he wouldn’t even speak as he got up to walk to you, hands reaching to pull you closer to him. even as you pushed him away,

”leave me alone”, you chided, quietly. but, no matter how hard you pushed, connie would overpower you to pull you into the warmest hug you’d had in months. its warmth would invite your arms to wrap around him, sobs spilling into his bare chest the second your cheek touched it. not once letting go, connie would pull you back into bed, wrap you in the sheets, before comforting you. relief drowned a certain of him as it knew that he had a chance of getting you back. but the part of him that still had its head above water wrestled with guilt; there’s nothing this man wanted for you than happiness, and seeing his hands be the ones to take it away from you pained him.

the commotion of everything numbed you to your environment, so it would be only a few moments before your distraught sobs would reach the ears of the person you wanted to hear them least. small knocks would bring yours and connie’s attention to the half-open door, and you’d try to get yourself together, but there was only so much you could do to hide the shadows of sorrow reddening your eyes, and creating darkened splotches on connie’s shirt. as soon as you saw your daughter reach up to comfort you, you’d climb off the bed and hug her, feeling your heart start to glue back together when she wiped a tear off your face. both you and connie would instruct her to wait for you in the living room and you’d begin getting dressed properly once you’d hear her run off excitedly.

the both of you would get dressed, and walk down the stairs, in silence. the most connie would provide would be an arm around your shoulder, and a kiss to your temple, which you accepted happily. and, as soon as you were within an earshot of the living room, you’d hear ’the little mermaid’ playing for the nth time, accompanied by the usual harmonisations provided by your daughter’s jovial singing. you’d be admiring the blankets, cushions, and snacks she had set up before you’d be distracted by the rustling of connie putting his shoes and coat on. every fibre of your being would beg you to stop him, but you’d try and convince yourself that he probably had somewhere to be. however, such considerations meant nothing to your hand that was already reaching to grab at his own,

”stay.”, you asked quietly, and his eyes would widen at the request. of course he wanted to stay, but he didn’t think you’d want to spend another minute around the man who had just ruined your relationship. but then once your daughter ran up to him, pouting while asking,

”please~”, his decision would be made for him.

as you watched the movie, you’d notice connie’s eyes fixated on you. at first you thought he was watching your daughter wave her little mermaid doll around but, when you’d turn to check, you’d be met with direct eye contact. his lips would fall agape only to meet again, before they’d open to allow their owner to mouth a belated apology,

”i’m sorry”, his swollen lips would trace out, and a forgiving ”it’s okay” would be mouthed by your own lips. there’d a second where you’d just be staring at each other in mutual love and understanding. it was obvious that this chapter wasn’t finished, not when the authors holding the pens had changed immensely since the day the first page of the book had been written. but small hands would rise to push your faces to face the screen, and connie’s own inability to forgive himself for his actions would shift his eyes to the floor. that’s when they’d narrow in on the slippers that did nothing but breed insecurity. a small voice in his head would ask him if they still felt hard to fill, and admittedly, they still did. yet, looking at them again, he didn’t mind that. though the future still held uncertainties, the feeling of you and your daughter leaning on him, as his arm reached around to embrace you both, filled the gaps of himself he had lost confidence in. because this was all he had ever wanted; to become a person that could be leant on by the people he cared for most. both of you. for as long as his lungs held breath, and for as long as the image of you and your child falling asleep on him every night, was the only one his subconscious could conjure up when his head met his pillow at the end of every day.

#nanaminsmooninc #aot x black reader #aot x black y/n #connie springer x black reader #connie x black reader #connie x black y/n #connie smut #aot connie #Spotify

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neverinadream · 5 months

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Where The Storyline Ends

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Summary: Is this where the storyline ends?

Pairing: Mason Mount x Fem!Reader

Requested: Nope

Song Inspo: Enchanted (Taylor's Version) - Taylor Swift

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, smut, nsfw, mason mount x ex!reader, ex-situationship, suggestive language, toxic!mason, jealous!mason, voicemail sex (?), masturbation, mentions of oral sex, consumption of alcohol, suggestions of cheating...not edited

Notes: do i know what this is or how this came about? absolutely not. when do i ever when i write something for mason?? anyway, here you filthy whores 🫶🏻 as always, feedback is always appreciated

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yourusername

liked by masonmount, yourbestfriend, user235 & 4,279 others

tagged: yourboyfriend

yourusername: what was it that taylor said...i was enchanted to meet you? 🩷

view all comments

yourbestfriend: this is freakin' exciting! 🤗

yourusername: 💕

benchilwell: when do i get to meet him?

yourusername: absolutely not

benchilwell: i just need to have one conversation with him

levicolwill: yeah, just one conversation...

reece: not even a conversation, just a few words with him...

yourusername: look what you've started 🙄

user356: her and @.masonmount are over then?

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"Hi, it's, uh, it's been a minute, right?" Mason mumbles, the empty bottles of beer antagonising him from the coffee table, the bitter taste on his tongue fuelling his decision to dial your number. "I saw your post." He rolls his eyes to no one. "So, you guys are like official now? Congrats, I guess." An awkward chuckle slips off his lips, filling the silences where you might have talked. "God, this is pathetic - we were just meant to be casual, no strings attached, so I really shouldn't be pissed about this, pissed about those stupid photos, your arms around him, that stupid fuckin' caption..."

He takes a deep breath, reaching for the most recent bottle to take a long sip. "Speaking of photos, I was looking at a really cute one of you earlier. Can you guess which one? I know," he puts the bottle back, "there's a lot to choose from, but it was the one of you on some bathroom floor, your ass in the air, and my cock in your mouth." The memory shoots straight to his cock, it twitching and pulsing inside his sweats, aching for his attention, for your attention, as he recalls the events of that night. "God, you looked so fucking pretty that night. Your lips stretching around my shaft, drooling down my dick, your eyes looking up into the camera...Did you know you get so whiney when you're horny? Even with my cock stuffed inside that tight little throat, you were still begging for more."

For a few seconds, he goes silent, almost wishing you had answered the call, wanting to know if he could still get hard from your bratty mouth.

"Quick question, does he know?" He pauses, tipping his head back and sighing as he palms his cock through the front of his sweats. "I mean, it's not like you did anything wrong; you were just starting to see him, it's not like you were exclusive. But does he know? Does he know what you were doing on the nights between those first...first five or six dates?" He untucks his cock, a sigh filling the silence as he strokes his thumb along the slit, messing the tip of his cock with precum. "You guys go to dinner, brunch, a movie, maybe he took you to a gallery - you like all that art shit, right? Every time, he gets nervous. He gets bufferflies. Why wouldn't he? I mean, just look at you. 'Oh, she likes me. She really, really likes me.'"

"Does he know that when he took you on that cute picnic on the Saturday, that I was fuckin' you stupid on the Sunday?" He continued, lazily stroking himself, squeezing his fingers tighter each time he got closer to the tip. He licked his lips, a flash of the memory playing on the back of his eyelids. You on your front, him pushing your face into the pillow as you took his cock like a good girl, calling yourself daddy's little cock sleeve and begging him to drain his balls into you. "You whined so much about your legs hurting, that you couldn't ride my cock like you wanted to, so you just laid on your stomach and let me pound you prone."

"That was a good afternoon. Burying my face in you from behind, listening to you calling me 'daddy' as you gripped so tightly onto the sheets; burying my face, eating your pussy and ass until you soaked my face with your cum." His movements turn faster, his breath becoming laboured as he fisted his cock to the memory. "Fuck, I miss it - I miss how good your pussy taste, how it would just get all over my mouth. It's not fair, baby, it's not fair that I won't get to taste you again. I need to taste you again. Just one last time."

He groans, tipping his head back, Adam's apple bobbing, a small bead of sweat rolling down the column of his neck. He needed you. He needed to feel your clit between his lips, to feel you squirm and twitch about as he sucked it into his mouth until it was nothing but a swollen and throbbing nub. To feel that familiar stretching of your pussy as he thrusts his cock inside, have it drip and gush all over it as he squeezes his hand tight around your throat. To watch you with your tongue sticking out, begging for him to give you his spit. To do all the nasty things he knows you'll never do with your new boyfriend.

"I wish you were here right now to watch me come," he begs, squeezing his fist tighter, stroking himself to release, "you could be, you could come here and be my perfect little fuck toy again. Bend you over the back of the sofa, leave my handprints - oh, fuck - on your ass - yes, yes, yes!" Cum coats his hand and his stomach, his hand still jerking the length of his shaft, the sensitive tip twitiching as he keeps rambling into his phone "Come to me, baby, let me have you one last time..."

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masonmount

liked by benchilwell, reece, lukeshaw23 & 345,379 others

tagged: yourusername

masonmount: what was it that taylor said...please don't be in love with someone else?

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Football Taglist: @thoseboysinblue @kickinganddriving @lizzypotter14 @brasiliangp @chilwellspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @masonsrem @landoslover @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @spicysainz @kathb59 @emcv1427 @afterpills @pulisicsgirl @ricciardhoe3

#mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount imagines #mason mount smut #mason mount x reader

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

make my heart surrender | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: friday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, angst, use of she/her pronouns, friends to lovers, smutty smut-smut, this is an 18+ chapter so minors dni, no use of y/n, second person pov

word count: 6.7k

summary: buckle up people, because this is a long one! tonight is the night: the night you and marcus' dessert menu goes live, the night you meet natalie berzatto, and the night that truths are revealed.

a/n: is it hot in here or is it just me? who's ready for some smut? this will be the last chapter i post till sunday/monday, so we can all sit with this. hear me out: it's not that i think carmy is really good at sex. but there's so much tension between these two, i think reader is good at sex, and there's something to be said for being so turned on by the other person that it just hits different.

and here is that song -- the jazz standard turned acoustic cover.

read: part three | masterlist

Friday

“Just remember that we don’t have to reinvent the wheel here. You just have to deliver a really damn good dessert time after time,” you instruct, setting Marcus up, pre-dinner shift.

“I think we should focus on the burnt basque cheesecake in lieu of the classic. You already have a heavier lift on the bake for the chocolate cake. That way, whatever happens with the mixer, or the ovens… this version of cheesecake is pretty forgiving. And you don’t have to fuck around with a water bath just yet.”

“The tiramisu is perfect because it’s a no-bake option, and you can mix it up with different kinds of flavors – call it a special.”

“Like what we’re doing Sunday?” Marcus suggests, in reference to the strawberry, lemon, and mascarpone version you be doing at the end of the week.

“Exactly,” you reply.

“Hell yeah.”

“It all fits into the menu so nicely too: elevated classics.”

“A play on tradition.”

“Exactly."

“Ah, I see you, chef,” Marcus nods along, excited about tonight’s R&D night.

The game plan is to serve smaller portions of each dessert for the price of one, then get feedback by the end of the weekend.

“Hey, family’s up in a minute. You guys ready to roll tonight?” Carmy asks, stopping by you and Marcus’ little pastry corner.

“Yes, chef,” you both answer, in staggered timing.

“She got me workin’ on a strawberry compote. Here, try it, chef,” Marcus encourages, grabbing a clean spoon and scooping out a spoonful from the deli container it’s been stored in. Carmy takes it, putting the spoon in his mouth and he tries the compote.

“That’s gonna be really good with the tang and slightly bitter outside of the burnt cheesecake. Good work, chef,” he congratulates, inspiring a grin across Marcus face.

“I’m learning so much from you. Seriously. Thank you, chef,” he says, turning to you.

“Hey, you’re the one that made the compote,” you reply, redirecting the praise back to him. “Just sayin’.”

“Family’s up!” Sydney calls out to the whole kitchen.

You lock eyes with Carmy, and he nods towards the front of house as if to say, ‘follow me.’ You and Marcus file in through the limited space that leads from the kitchen to the front counter, then finally, into the dining area of the restaurant. Carmy had told you all about the hellish remodel of this place – that the two tops, booths, and bar remodel had taken for-fuckin-ever. That it looked like nothing more than a diner with a few arcade games before the reopen.

“Hey, thanks for jumping in so that Angel could cover me the other night,” Ebrahim says to you, as you find a seat next to Carmy, and across from Marcus.

“Oh, it’s no problem. You feelin’ better?” you ask back.

“Very much so. A little rest and a little maraq digaag and I’m good as new,” he answers.

“What’s good, Jeff? Surprised you’ve stuck around this long. Glad we haven’t scared you away yet,” Tina greets.

Carmy’s shocked, considering Tina rarely warms up to anyone.

You chuckle in response.

“It takes a lot more to scare me away, chef,” you reply, confident that you can keep up with everyone’s witty banter. Even though you’ve been welcomed in over the last few days, you know that they were a family before you came.

And will still be one after you.

Right. Because this is temporary. You’re only here for a week, you remind yourself.

“Yeah, thought she’d be long gone after workin’ the line the other night,” Richie chimes in. “Especially considering she’s way out of your league, cousin.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you,” Carmy shoots back, almost instantly.

“I’m just glad you’re here now. Man, it’s been three days and you’ve leveled my shit up already,” Marcus compliments.

“Besides, it’s nice to have some solidarity amongst the little boys club we work in every damn day,” Sydney points out, eliciting a scoff from Richie.

The two of you share a look, like a psychic high five or some shit. It begins to dawn on you that you could get used to this: this kitchen, these people….

“What? You got something against women supporting women, Richie?”

“Oh, so what? You’re the voice of feminism now, Syd?” Richie spits back. “Holy shit! Did you guys know that we were here in the presence of the new voice of-.”

You watch as Tina and Gary slump in their chairs, as if to say, ‘here they go again.’

“Don’t be such a prick, Richie. Oh wait.” Sydney challenges.

“You know what-?” Richie starts up, before being swiftly interrupted.

“Damn, Syd. This is fantastic,” you interject, your voice louder than normal, in reference to her family meal. “These tostadas are fuckin’ perfect and I’m gonna need the recipe.”

Richie continues to go on about god knows what, distracting himself, as Sydney mouths a, ‘thank you’ across the table towards you. You nod towards her as if to say,

I got you.

“Hey, I’m a little behind on plating. Sorry, chef,” Marcus apologizes, and you can tell he’s stressed. He gestures towards the plates that are ready to go out to the bar.

He hesitates before asking, “Oh and uh… these ones are ready to go out. Can you-?”

“‘Course, chef,” you answer, a mini-pep talk coming his way. “But uh… before you keep going, Marcus, take a breath. I know you struggle a little with pacing – you want everything to perfect – but, it’s gonna come with practice and repetition.”

You can see that he’s flustered – a little frustrated even.

“Expediting during dinner is a whole other animal, and it’s just night one. You got this,” you reassure.

You and Carmy had such different leadership styles. While you both had come up in the same kind of kitchens, you didn’t like to yell unless you had to. You were here to teach, and you can’t remember the last time someone screaming at you had ever helped you learn something.

You’re more than happy to support him by taking these plates out. You spent the first half of dinner service plating so that he could get some face time with customers – since you’d be asking for feedback. Then you’d switch halfway through service. You also thought it might be good practice for him to lead, considering they’d need to hire more help with the new menus.

You take a look at the ticket, one dessert tasting - two people - bar top, before taking the dessert plates out to the designated seats at the bar. There’s a gorgeous blonde woman sitting next to a guy in a sweater vest, as you make to approach the bar top.

“Hi, you guys,” you greet, a cheerful smile on your face. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We’re testing out a few new desserts for our dinner menu, so I’d love to hear what you think.”

“Oh this looks great,” the woman says, looking at both perfectly plated desserts.

“Here we have a burnt basque cheesecake with a strawberry compote, The Bear’s signature chocolate layer cake, and then a classic Italian tiramisu,” you explain, walking through each piece.

“Wow,” the man marvels, almost as if he’s surprised.

You share your name with them, and let them know that, if they have any feedback, that they can ask for you. As you turn to go, the woman calls after you, stopping you.

“Wait,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “You’re Carmy’s friend.”

“Yes.”

“Pete, it’s Carmy’s friend!” she exclaims, nudging the man next to her with her elbow to try to jog his memory. “You know! The one that’s staying in our airbnb.”

“Oh!” he says, as the light bulb goes on in his brain. “Yeah, we’ve heard all about you.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman apologizes. “I’m Natalie, his sister, but you can call me Sugar. This is my husband, Pete.”

“Oh my god! Natalie! Yes, I’ve heard so much about you too,” you reply, finally registering that this was the same woman in family photos that Carmy had shown you years ago. “It’s so nice to put a face to the name. And great to meet you too, Pete. Seriously, thanks for letting me stay at the place. I mean, you really didn’t have to.”

“Likewise,” she says back. She scoffs before rolling her eyes and continuing. “Leave it to Carmy to ask us for a favor and not even introduce you to us, that soft shitty bitch!”

“Babe,” Pete starts. “Maybe we shouldn’t be so hard on Carmy, you know, in front of his-.” He gestures towards you and you’re not sure what he thinks you are to Carmy.

Sugar brushes him off with a, ‘whatever,’ before you notice that they’re both in need of clean forks.

“You guys need clean forks. I’m gonna-,” you start.

“Oh no! I uh-, let me get it,” Pete interrupts, practically jumping out of his seat.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaving the two of you alone.

You lean against the bar top towards Sugar.

“Well, he couldn’t get out of here fast enough,” you say with a laugh, stating the obvious. She laughs with a nod towards her husband.

“Yeah he’s… special,” she replies. “I think he uh, I think he just wanted to give us some time to talk.”

You’re not sure what to say next, because you’re not sure what you and Carmy’s sister, one you’ve never met before, would have to talk about.

“So how’s the place? Do you have everything you need or-?” Sugar begins, in reference to the airbnb.

“Oh! Yeah, no it’s great. I’ve got everything I need. Again, thank you. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“No, we wanted to!”

“Thanks…” you trail off, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable – nervous, maybe? Yep, definitely nervous, you realize, as you begin to ramble. “It’s a really great apartment. Beautifully styled.”

What the fuck are you even talking about, you think to yourself.

“Oh, I did that! Styled it, I mean,” Sugar’s quick to respond.

“Oh, wow!” you say. Were all the Berzattos creative? “Yeah, I just-, I really appreciate it. Made getting out here a little easier.”

“No, yeah, it’s-, it’s no problem,” Sugar continues. “Really… anything for a friend of Carmy’s.”

You’re not sure why it’s so awkward, and it feels like you’re somehow both dancing around something you’re not even sure you should be dancing around.

“I hope you don’t think I’m a total bitch for saying this but,” Sugar starts, cautiously. While she doesn’t want to make her brother look like a total loser in front of you, she’s also unsure of how else to say what she says next.

“Bear's never really had any friends… not a lot of them, at least. So I-. Thank you. I mean. For being his friend, I guess… is what I’m trying to say.”

Bear.

You figure it's a family nickname. You wonder why you’ve never heard it before, and yet, it’s no surprise that he kept it from you. He’d been so evasive about his family when you’d first met. For a bit, it just felt like a topic that was off limits.

You take a beat, processing what she’s just said. In some ways, you always knew that Carmy was a bit of a loner, but you could feel the weight of what she’s saying – how much it meant to her.

“I know he’s not always easy to love but. I don’t know. He acts like he doesn’t need people, and I know he does. I mean, people outside of this fucked up shit hole anyways,” she continues, gesturing to her surroundings.

You agree with a small laugh, “Yeah, he can be a real dick sometimes. That’s for sure.”

“Seriously. Thank you,” she says, genuinely.

“Of course,” you reply, making sure she knows that her words mean a lot to you. You take a more playful tone as you continue. “To be fair, we did meet in another fucked up spot. Not so much a shit hole though.”

“Yeah, and there’s that,” she sighs, lightheartedly.

“I’m just glad he has someone. He needs someone. Even when he doesn’t want to.”

The rest of dinner service is a blur, as your mind continues to incubate on what Sugar had said to you. You let your interaction with her sit there, but try your best to focus on supporting the rest of service.

You all work together to wrap up the evening – a chaotic dinner service with a lot of lessons learned. You and Carmy are the last to leave as you notice he’s wrapping up a few things in his office. With your jacket on, backpack slung over one shoulder, you stop by to say goodnight before heading out.

He’s sitting in the chair, furiously scribbling a few notes down on a few pages of graphing paper. Your eyes flicker over all of the silly doodles on the whiteboard behind him.

“Hey,” you say, causing him to look up from his notebook.

“Good service tonight,” he says back.

“Yeah,” you nod in agreement. “Desserts were a hit.”

“I heard,” he replies.

You wait for him to say more, only he doesn’t.

“So, I’m gonna get out of here. Marcus is gonna fly solo tomorrow morning, so I won’t be in till the dinner shift,” you start, shooting him a polite smile.

You take a few steps away from the office before he calls out to you.

“Hey!”

You stop, taking a few steps backwards so that you’re standing in the office doorway once again.

“You hungry?” he asks, tentatively.

There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t quite identify: a little nervousness, and something else you haven’t had a chance to name yet. It’s like he’s not ready to part ways with you yet. You smile back at him, hoping to quell whatever nerves he has about the question he just asked you.

“Always, Carm.”

You’re tired and your feet ache from a particularly busy service, but you’re not ready to part ways with him either.

“Watcha thinkin?” you ask curiously, sliding your other arm through the loose strap of your backpack.

“Can I cook you something?” he proposes, hopefully.

You laugh.

“Is that even a real question?”

You wait for him as he wraps up his notes and gather his things. Carmy slips on his jacket and ballcap, ready to head home with you. On the way, he lights up a cigarette, offering one to you, but you tell him that you’re trying to quit – or at least trying to cut back. It’s not a long walk back to his place, and you anticipate it being something along the same lines as what he had in New York: facebook marketplace couch, minimal food in the fridge, a TV and a bed.

Nothing else – just a place to sleep, before he spends most of his day at the restaurant.

When you arrive, you’re not surprised to see that your assumptions were correct. Carmy flips on a few lights as you follow behind him. You drop your book bag onto his couch, slipping your shoes off and removing your jacket, as Carmy bee lines for the kitchen. You hear the faucet turn on as you tentatively explore his small apartment, before meeting him in the small kitchen area.

He takes his time, washing his hands, before drying them on a dish towel and throwing it over his shoulder.

“So what are we makin’, chef?” you inquire.

“We aren’t making anything. You’re gonna sit right over here,” he begins, gesturing towards the area across from his gas stovetop. “Oh shit. Hold on. Let me grab you a-.”

“I’m good here, chef,” you interrupt, making a sound as you hop onto the kitchen counter. You immediately reach for the bag of chips he’s thrown onto it. It’s not even closed properly with a clip or anything so expect them to be stale as you pop one of the chips into your mouth.

“Sour cream and onion? Change up from your regular doritos, huh?”

A small smile spreads across his face as he moves around his kitchen, locating a quarter sheet pan. He opens his practically desolate fridge, pulling out a fresh brick of pecorino romano, guanciale, and a few eggs he throws right into the pint-sized deli container that lays on the sheet pan. The rest follow: an unopened pound of dried spaghetti and black pepper, before he gently places the sheet pan on the counter, beginning to preheat two pans on the stovetop.

“Are you-?”

“Uh huh.”

You smile to yourself. He’s making one of your favorites: carbonara.

The first time he’d made it for you, you had just started spending some of your days off together – had just agreed to be a part of each others' quarantine pods. You knew he had Italian-American heritage but it was blatantly obvious when you took your first bite.

“Holy fuck,” you had practically moaned at your first bite. “This-, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m pretty sure your talents are being wasted on fine dining, my friend. This is… this is fucking unreal, dude.”

You had tried to convince him that this is the food you both should be cooking, but he vehemently denied the idea, insisting the fine dining was the highest on the food chain and the only way he could make a name for himself.

He’d been drinking the kool-aid. You both had.

You sit quietly, as Carmy works. You watch as he cuts perfect lardons, then renders the fat from the cured pork bits. The smell of the guanciale begins to fill the apartment, and Carmy opens a window, just to let the smoke dissipate.

“You can uh, put some music on if you want,” Carmy says, motioning towards the small bluetooth speaker he has on the coffee table. You agree to, hopping off of the kitchen counter and making your way towards his living area to set up the speaker.

You flip through your phone, looking for a good playlist to put on, settling on one of your dinner party playlists. The speaker booms with the sounds of an old jazz standard, redone as an acoustic cover, and you turn the volume up a little as the water for the spaghetti comes to a boil.

You spend time looking through Carmy’s bookshelf. It’s filled with thick-spined cookbooks from James Beard winning best restaurants and chefs. You drag your fingertips over the spine of a few classics, but settle on a fairly new book, written by someone at the New York Times.

“Do you have any other books besides cookbooks?” you call out to him.

He lets out a dry laugh and you take it as a no.

You make your way back to your spot on the counter, sliding the open chip bag over, before hopping back up to your seat. You flip through the cookbook as Carmy stays busy with the pasta.

It’s quiet moments like these that you’ve missed so much. Some days the two of you could talk for hours about sous vide vs reverse searing, and the right way to make a fucking bearnaisse sauce. Other days, Carmy wasn’t much for conversation, and you loved those ones equally. Sometimes, you just wanted company, so he’d come over and work on a recipe and you’d read while he worked in your kitchen.

You could just be together, and it was nice to feel that again.

No awkward tension of things left unsaid.

But there was a different kind of tension that seemed to linger between the two of you and you wondered if it had always been there. Had you just never noticed? Between the little comments from Richie about being out of his league, and Pete’s open-ended ‘not in front of his’ you wondered if everyone knew something you didn’t.

“Which one’d you go with?” he asks, continuing his graceful dance around the kitchen.

“Korean American. Eric Kim. I hadn’t had a chance to pick up a copy for myself yet, actually,” you answer, flipping through the first few pages.

Your met with quiet as you continue your story.

“You know we’re kind of friends. We went out for drinks a few times. Before I quit my job. Went dancing in the east village and stayed out till two in the morning bar hopping and gossiping about our mutual celebrity crush, Timothee Chalamet,” you add, your attention still fixed on the vibrant, colorful food photographs.

“Timothee Chalamet, huh?” Carmy asks, amused.

Your attention isn’t on Carmy, or what he’s doing, save for the sounds of him moving around the kitchen. That is, until you look up to find him unceremoniously close to you, peering over onto the page you seem so fascinated with.

“Jesus Christ, Car!” you gasp, surprised by his close proximity. Your heart was beating faster as he took a step back. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, his head hanging as he takes a few steps back. “Didn’t mean to.”

“No, it’s okay!” you assure. But it’s too late, so you change the subject, deciding to finish your story. “Anyways uh… I had to hang out with someone after you left New York. Make some new friends.”

“We both know you’ve never struggled with that,” Carmy points out, eliciting a playful eye roll from you.

He returns with the most aesthetically pleasing twirl of spaghetti carbonara. It’s so perfect you almost can’t fathom eating it. He hands it to you, then returns to his kitchen counter, plating a second bowl for himself.

After finishing the second twirl, he carelessly tosses his carving fork into the sink, opening another drawer to grab two forks for eating.

“Come on. You don’t want it to get cold,” he encourages, handing you one of the forks.

He waits patiently for you to try it first, so you dig your fork in, creating a spaghetti twirl that hugs the fork, before raising it up to your lips. You open your mouth, taking a bite, before closing your eyes in absolute bliss.

“I can’t fucking stand you.”

He smiles, and it’s the biggest smile you’ve seen on his face this whole week.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean. Fuck you. Like… absolutely fuck you.”

He laughs, finally picking up his own fork and digging into the second bowl he’s plate for himself.

Holy fuck, is it out of this world.

“Like, do you think they’re such a thing as a talent aggression? Like a cute aggression, only I want to squeeze your head off because you’re so damn talented-kind of aggression?” you pitch your idea to him, playfully.

He laughs, a blush spreading across his cheeks, “Uh… no. I don’t think so.”

Carmy rests his back against the counter, as you eat together, side by side. You eat quietly, exchange looks and quiet giggles as the two of you finish your pasta, slurping up the cheesy, egg-yolk coated noodles. When you finish your bowl, you put it down on the counter next to you, throwing your head back with a sigh.

“Thank you,” you say, fully satisfied as you feel the dopamine rush of eating carbs.

“That good, huh?” he asks, a cocky smirk on his face.

“So good,” you exhale happily, as you rest your head on his shoulder. “And you know it, you asshole.”

He chuckles, turning his head towards you just as you lift your head off of his shoulder, your faces mere inches away from each other. You watch as his face turns a few shades darker, the blush across his cheeks running through his whole face.

Are you two fucking idiots to pretend that you were just friends?

Yeah. Yes, you are.

“Sorry, I’m, I didn’t mean to um,” he stutters, beginning to pull away from you.

“Wait,” you call out, reaching out to stop him. You grab his arm.

And there it is again… the tension. That thing that, even when you had talked it out, has remained between you two. He stops moving, his eyes fixated on your hand – the one that’s reached for him. The one that feels hot against his skin.

“Carm, I-. Um, I’ve really missed…” you stammer through, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel.

I’ve really missed you.

“... your carbonara.” He looks up at you with those beautifully sad, cerulean blue eyes, and if you weren’t breathless before, you certainly are now.

“You should make this more often,” is all you manage to get out, and you know you sound helpless.

He doesn’t know what to say back. That he can hear the ache in your voice – a yearning for him that he never imagined anyone could ever have for him. That it’d be world war three, trying to get a carbonara on the dinner menu. That screaming would ensue over a goddamn emulsion. That there’d be no way to pull this off authentically, and that he’d have to use heavy cream, and no fucking way would he compromise on that.

On your favorite fucking dish.

That he only has these ingredients on hand because he went out and bought them in preparation for your visit.

That he only got them for you.

Because he maybe only wants to make carbonara for you, and only you, for forever and ever.

That he’s missed you too, and that wanting you is one of the scariest things he’s ever felt.

His eyes flicker from your hand, the one still holding onto him, and then back to your face. He’s not sure what possesses him to do it, but he can hear his brother’s voice in his head, let it rip, pushing him to lean in – even closer towards you. You wrap your fingers around his arm, encouraging him closer to you – if it’s even possible. Your foreheads meet and it’s as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. It’s like your vision narrows and the dimly lit apartment has faded away behind you.

It’s just you and him.

You feel dizzy – in the most delicious way possible.

You’re not sure who moves in first, but the tip of his nose is ever so gently bumping against yours. You brush the side of your nose against his, neither of you daring to take a breath.

“Carm?”

He doesn’t answer, so you gently begin to leave a kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“This okay?”

Then the side of his top lip.

“Mhm,” he nods, eager to continue where this is going.

Then you pull back, pulling him towards you so that, as you remain perched on top of his kitchen countertop, he fits perfectly between your knees. You lean in to kiss him, and this time, it’s not as hesitant… not as cautious as you’ve both been.

No, these kisses are different, each one opening up the door to more and more – more want, more need, more lust – and as it blooms, as it blossoms, you feel Carmy’s hand move gingerly to cradle your face as you fall down the rabbit hole. Your fingers tangle into his blonde curls allowing your sheer want for him to consume you. It’s lips, and tangled tongues, and tentative, soft moans as you continue to pull each other closer and closer.

And you slowly begin to understand: the lingering tension, the avoidance of labeling you from his brother-in-law, why he’s been terrified to say a damn thing to you this entire week.

As much as you tried, and as much as he’s tried, neither of you had put that night behind you.

Sure, it was shitty timing, and sure he wasn’t in the right headspace then. But now?

Now, could be different, if you’d let it.

Carmy pulls away from you, reluctantly, his face hot before asking, “You uh, you wanna take this somewhere else?”

His tone is hopeful, as if he’s the teenage dirtbag asking the prom queen out – like if you heard him, and you laughed in his face, he simply wouldn’t survive it.

But your response is quite the opposite, and he feels silly for worrying, as you manage a breathy ‘yes’ going back in for one more kiss. He gives you some space to hop off the counter and you grab his hand, leading him towards his bedroom. It’s not a huge place, so you put two and two together about where that is. Carmy leaves the lights off in his bedroom, the only glimmer of light either of you can see comes from the living room lamps, and the kitchen overhead.

With his hand in yours, you pull him towards you again, and he’s more than happy to let you lead. You begin to kiss him, taking note of how perfectly his top lip feels nestled in between yours. He follows you down to his bed, hesitant to put his full body weight on top of you. You giggle into the kiss, pulling him down to you.

“I’m not a porcelain doll, Carm,” you tease, gently.

You feel his lips twist into a smile against yours, as he begins to leave sloppier, wetter kisses down your neck. You allow him to explore as his hesitation lessens, his hands beginning to bunch up the hemline of your shirt. Higher and higher. And before you know it, you’re taking it off, impatiently throwing it somewhere you’ll barely remember in the light of day. You pull Carmy back down for another kiss, this time with a little more intensity, as he covers his body with yours, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of newly revealed skin that he possibly can.

You’re not sure when his shirt joined yours on the floor but before it registers, you’re running your fingers across the muscles of his back, exploring each peak and valley. You hiss in pure pleasure as he pulls down one of the cups of your bra, his tongue running across one of your nipples. You can feel him smile against your skin, a well-won reaction from the pleasure he’s giving you. His other hand reaches up to give equal attention to your other breast, and moments later, you’re both impatiently pulling your bra off.

“Wanna try something,” Carmy murmurs, his eyes meeting yours.

You can feel the wet heat pooling between your legs as you breathe out, “Okay.”

The anticipation is building in your body and you feel like your head might explode. Carmy busies his mouth once again, leaving kisses down your torso as his hands begin to fiddle with the button on your jeans. You giggle, more than willing to help him out as he gets them undone, lifting your hips so that he can slide them off.

He’s hesitant, and you’re trying your damnedest to be patient as he takes his sweet time to marvel at your almost-naked body.

“So fucking perfect,” Carmy whispers, in between leaving wet, open mouthed kisses across your hip bones. You can hardly breathe, panting out loud as he continues his exploration. You make space for him between your legs as he slips his hands into your panties, dragging a finger up and down your dripping sex.

He checks in with you, gauging your reaction, and you nod as he continues what he’s doing.

“This all for me?” he asks. He means for it to sound confident, but as the words leave him, he sounds more surprised than anything.

Before you can answer, he’s pushing your legs wider, his tongue gently running across your clit, causing you to cry out to the gods. He’s tentative at first, but it doesn’t take long for him to gather up the confidence to keep going, with the noises you’re making. At first it’s all tongue, licking, circling and flattening up against you, but you’re losing your mind as he adds his fingers back into the mix. His fingers are buried deep inside of you while his lips and tongue are bringing you far past your edge.

It’s as if the only words you can remember are his name, and ‘fuck.’

You feel his lips curl into a smile against you as he murmurs, “Just wanna make you feel good.”

You can feel it – your climax – building up, and Carmy groans, rutting his hips into the bed as he can no longer ignore how hard he is.

“Carmy, yes. Don’t stop, please. I’m-,” you beg, your voice shaking.

And he has no intention of stopping till he gets what he wants – till he makes you cum. He works you through your orgasm, groaning against you as you cum on his tongue and around his fingers. You swear for a moment that you can’t hear a single thing as stars fill your vision. As you come to, it starts with only the sounds of the heavy pants that escape your mouth. Carmy sits up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Holy fuck,” you say, breathless.

Carmy lays over you once again, kissing you, and you can taste yourself on his lips.

Your hands fumble with the button on his jeans and you order, no patience left in a single cell of your body, “Off. These need to come off.”

He chuckles, hurrying through the removal of his jeans. You’re so eager to feel the weight of his body on top of yours again that you pull him back down to you before he’s even able to properly take them off.

He’s kissing you again as you reach down, grabbing his hard length through his underwear. He’s thicker than you remember. You slip your hand into the waistband of his briefs, causing him to grunt. He hisses your name as you wrap your soft hand around his dick, bucking his hips into your hand.

“Do you have a condom?” you ask, desperately. “I wanna feel you, Carm.”

“Mhm.”

He doesn’t keep condoms around. It’s not like this happens very often for him. But Richie had thrown a pack of condoms at his head the minute he found out that the friend that was coming to visit was a girl. Richie had teased him with some stupid quip like ‘don’t forget to wrap it up, cousin. No one wants a mini-eleven madison park dickhead running around here.’

He hadn’t expected this to happen. But it’s not like he’d thrown the condoms away either – tucking them into the single drawer of his nightstand.

You wait as he reaches over and pulls out a condom from his nightstand. You want to ask him about why he has them, but as long as you get to feel him, you’re not sure you care.

You’ve been here before with him, but this is different. He sits up on his knees and you follow him, pulling his briefs down properly and giving him time to roll on the condom. He follows you back down onto the bed as you wrap a leg around his waist so that he can fit perfectly between yours.

He waits a beat, and then you feel his thick tip pushing against you, causing your breath to catch in your throat. He rubs the head up and down your slick core, before slowly beginning to push into you.

You both gasp at the feel of each other.

“Fuck. You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he moans, dropping his head into the crevice of your neck. He hopes you can’t tell how utterly helpless he feels.

You hiss at the way he’s stretching you open, the pads of your fingertips digging into his arms. You’re holding onto his arms for dear life as he fills you all the way to the hilt. You let out another moan as you as he stays there for a moment.

“This okay?”

You nod, pulling him down to kiss you again. You start moving your hips against his as Carmy gives you shallow thrusts.

“Hold on,” he breathes out, holding your hips down for a moment. “Just-, just give me a second.”

And you do, allowing him to collect himself, before he’s giving you shallow, gentle thrusts.

But you’re in desperate need for more.

“Carmy?”

“Yeah?”

“Fucking move.”

Finally, finally, he pulls almost all the way out, before driving himself back into you, earning a cry from you as the pleasure is just too much.

“Oh fuck!”

You want more. You want everything and all of him and so much more. And he gives it to you, continuing to check in that what he’s doing is okay. Before you know it, you’re begging him to go faster, harder, convincing him that you’re not fucking breakable and that you want more, grasping at the sheets and his biceps, and his curls – anything you can hang on to as he’s bringing you over your edge again for the second time tonight.

You’re crying out his name as you cum, and Carmy thinks it may be the sweetest, best thing he’s ever heard in his life. He fucks you through your climax, beginning to slow down the pace of this thrusts. He pauses, kisses you long and hard, passionately pausing just to be in this moment with you.

“Carm?” you manage to get out. You wonder if he can hear how much you want him just by the sound of your voice.

“Hm?”

“I wanna ride you,” you say, and you can feel that your words have gone straight to his dick as he twitches inside of you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The two of you clumsily change positions – him on his back staring up at you in awe, like how the hell does that perfect, beautiful, creature want to be here with me now? You reach down, guiding him back inside of you and you’re both gasping at the contact. You begin grinding your hips against him, watching his eyes roll back as you make your movement a little bigger.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs out, the pleasure of it all taking over his brain.

You know he won’t last much longer as you begin to ride him, rocking your hips back and forth. Carmy hands are on your hips, then running up and down your torso, grabbing your tits, and then they’re pulling you down to him for another passionate makeout as you continue your movements. You can feel his thrusts becoming more erratic as he starts thrusting up into you. You keep riding him, reaching for his hands and placing them along your hips.

“Show me how you want it,” you whisper in between kisses.

“I think this is nice,” he manages to say.

“Show me how you want it, Carmen,” you demand, emphasizing your need for him with use of his full name. “Let me make you cum.”

You squeeze his hands against your ass, egging him on, and he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve this. He holds onto your hips, before thrusting up into you, setting a bruising pace as your moans become louder and louder. You scream out his name, as he brings you closer and closer to your high, chasing his with him.

He grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppier, messier, more desperate and you let him use your body in the most delicious ways.

“Are you gonna cum?”

Instead of answering, he’s driving into you like a fucking mad man, and you’re riding him through his high till you both collapse.

Carmy lets out a strangled moan as he cums, so you begin to slow your movements. You’re breathless, hunched over him, your foreheads touching as you exchange a laugh.

It's a kind of 'I can't believe we just did that' kind of laugh.

“Holy shit,” he says, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” you agree, a stupid, blissed out smile on both of your faces.

“That was-.”

“Yeah.”

You get off of him, allowing him to get up and dispose of the condom. He’s not gone long before he returns to you, wrapping the both of you up in his sheets and into his arms. It feels unlike anything you’ve ever had.

It feels… magnificent.

“Stay with me tonight?” he asks, leaving a few soft kisses along your shoulder.

“After that?” you giggle, as his lips against your neck begin to tickle. “You’re not getting rid of me, Berzatto. Not a fucking chance.”

read: part five

taglist: @lazypeachsoul @bookwormvoyageuse @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney

#carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #the bear marcus #sydney adamu #the bear tina #richie jerimovich #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut

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infoactionratio7 · 10 months

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call it fate, call it carmen pt. 2 - c. berzatto

summary: carmy gives a small tour of the neighborhood to the pretty girl he met in the cafe, they realize they could get used to eachother.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem! teacher! reader

word count: 2,657

note: carmy talking about mikey, cursing, a lot of describing food and restaurants in chicago! not really proofread, excuse any mistakes pls. could be read as a stand alone but you can read part one here! read part 3 here!

thursday afternoon -

The only thing anyone could hear was the sound of second graders screaming, the music you had put on was drowned out by them yelling your name and playing around the large art classroom. Some of them were running up to you with their finished drawings, wanting to show you the finished pieces. You checked the clock, fifteen minutes until three, fifteen minutes until you were free from the kids screaming, and fifteen minutes until you could see Carmy again.

The last time you saw him was at The Beef, when he had given you his number and a free dinner. One of the most delicious dinners you had the pleasure of eating in an extremely long time. You couldn't stop thinking about it. And you couldn't stop thinking about him, he was pretty, and even that was an understatement.

You were pulled out of your thoughts of the talented chef by a tug on your pants, looking down a little girl was holding a painting up above her head trying to show it to you and get your attention.

"Miss, I tried to paint the Mona Lisa." You had taught the class about some famous artworks today, and they were tasked with the job of recreating their favorite one.

"Well Iris, that is a beautiful version of the Mona Lisa!" You smiled, taking the painting out of her outstretched hands, crouching down to her eye level. "You know, I think I like it better than the original. I'm going to hang it on our wall if that is alright with you."

Iris's eyes lit up, "Oh, yes Miss I'm so excited!" She giggled and went to sit back down at her assigned seat in the classroom. Proud to tell her classmates she was getting her art hung up on the wall.

You checked the time again, ten minutes to three. The student's teacher would be coming soon to pick them up and get them out of the art room. You clapped twice, a sign the students needed to stop and listen, instructing them to clean up any of the supplies they were using, the classroom got quiet. The only sounds were the pitter patter of feet and the students putting away their pencils, paper, and pushing in their chairs to line up. Their teacher was at the door waiting and you gave her the sheet detailing what the students did in art class to give to the parents. As the students filed out of the room you were met with many cheery goodbyes and well wishes to have a good rest of the day. Waving to the students, you closed the door and took a breath, looking around the classroom.

There was a soft buzz that came from your desk, situated by a tall window filled with small stained glass projects some of your older students had completed. You made your way to the desk, relaxing into your plush chair and picking up your phone,

from: carmen

'hey, headed out of the restaurant. meet you in front of school at 3'

A smile blossomed on your face, excited to see what exactly the man had in store for the day ahead of you. Neither of you had really specified if this was exactly what someone might call a date, but it might as well be. After that sunday night, you had called the blue eyed chef every night since then, telling him about your day and the new restaurants or cafes you had tried. Some good, some bad, but none hit the spot like that lucious slice of chocolate cake you had eaten almost a week prior from Carmy's kitchen. He had told you a pastry chef named Marcus made it, and you told him that you would have to meet the man who makes the sinful slice of cake.

With both of your schedules being so demanding, there was never a spare moment for him to do as he promised and show you around the city. The two of you finally settled on a calm thursday afternoon, blocking out the whole night and dedicating it to the man you just couldn't wait to see again.

The school bell ringing over the loudspeakers alerted you that three had finally come and you could get out of the school and breath in the crisp winter air. You put on your puffy coat, one you had had for years after going to college on the east coast, you needed all the warmth you could get. The bag you brought with you to school had not been the typical one you usually had, knowing you would be going out with Carmy that night. You opted for a simple tote with your trusty sketchbook and pencil, and any other essentials you might need to use at any time in the upcoming evening.

Turning off all the lights, and locking your classroom door, you were met with the screams and giggles of the elementary students who were leaving the school to go home. They were just as excited as you were. You followed the crowd, exiting through the front steps of the school you heard your name being called by a soft child's voice. You looked up and saw Iris, pulling an adult who looked just like her, you assumed it was her parent. Iris caught up with you, letting go of her parents hand and hugging your leg,

"I just wanted to say goodbye to you Miss, I had such a fun time in art class today I am so excited to show my parents what I did in class!" She let go and looked up at you with a toothy grin.

Smiling at her parent then glancing back down at the little girl you remarked. "Well Iris I am just as excited that you had such a fun time in class, I can't wait to see you again next thursday." You waved goodbye to the little girl and turned around to see Carmy. Lounging on the stone fence next to the school, with one hand in his pocket and one hand holding a crinkled up brown takeout bag. He was wearing a wool checkered jacket and black work pants, with his signature Boston Birkenstocks (not his work shoes, but the ones he bought for everyday wear after he saw Fak wearing them one family holiday). As he looked up from the sidewalk he caught your eyes and you could feel your face get warm, you couldn't believe you had just met the man less than a week before. It seemed like fate, starting your new job and moving into the city, happening to stumble across this brilliant chef you still had so much to learn about.

You walked over to where he was standing and he stood up to his full height, holding out the brown paper bag, "I thought we could start at the park, nobody will be there cause of the cold." He shuffled his feet scanning your figure as your stopped in front of him.

"Yeah. Yeah that would be great Carmen" You smiled grabbing the bag from his outstretched hand, "What's in here?"

"Um it's from this cafe just around the corner on West Oak, Doma. It's a uh, Croatian Cafe" He rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly anxious to tell you about whatever might be inside the bag. "They opened around 2020 and have some really cool food. I um- I know the owners, got a chocolate croissant and baklava. They're some of my favorite pastries in the city." You opened the bag, smelling the sweet butter and honey that was combining from the two pastries, still warm, insulated from the cold in the bag.

You closed the bag, holding it by your side, "They smell heavenly, do you wanna walk to the park?"

He nodded and turned around, toward one of the many parks in River North. You thought for a second and decided to loop your arm through his own still in his coat pocket. He didn't seem to be expecting any physical touch, flinching before relaxing into your touch. He looked looked at you with a relaxed smile then started walking.

It was a beautiful snowy day, the night before there had been flurries of snow, leaving a blanket of white across the city. You could see your breath in front of you as you exhaled, "So, tell me a little bit about Chicago, have you been here long?"

He nodded, you could see the gold of the chain hidden in his shirt peeking out against his smooth skin, "I was uh, I was born here, yeah. When I was around 19, I moved out to New York, worked in a ton of restaurants there tryin to uh, sorta work my way up." He paused as you came up to a corner, and hit the arrow to cross the street. The walk sign flashed on the street corner. You looked both ways on the street and kept walking.

"Eventually, I got to this place called Eleven Madison Park. That was when um, I got my award. But uh, that's around the same time Mikey, my brother he was an addict, killed himself." He took a deep breath as the two of you walked into the park and found a picnic bench free of snow, under a small covered area. You both sat down, you across from Carmy, and opened the bag with the pastries, placing them on the table in front of you.

"Oh god Carmen, I had no idea, Jesus." You were shocked, you had never expected for him to open up to you so quickly. He picked up the chocolate croissant and took a bite shrugging, "You don't have to call me Carmen you know, everyone calls me Carmy." He looked to you expectantly, waiting for a response.

"I like it, it makes you sound more mature," you met his gaze, softly smiling as he shook his head and laughed. "I can't believe you, ya know, calling me by my legal name just because you think it seems more mature." You shrugged, taking the croissant from his hands and bringing it to your lips. You could smell the sweet chocolate and see the delicate lamination throughout the pastry. You bit into it and knew that Carmy knew what he was doing. He hadn't even made this but it was delicious, and if he had a good taste for food, his food must be even more delicious. Thinking back to the dinner he had given you, there was no question he was a master in his craft. He watched as you melted into the pastry, looking at him with eyes full of adoration for him and the croissant you had just taken a bite of.

"You like it huh," You nod and moan out a yes, "Knew you would, now you gotta try this baklava."

He offered up the fork he had gotten a bite of the desert on for you to taste, he brought it up to your mouth and nudged it to your lips. They seemed to open on command as he brought the pastry into your mouth. You closed your lips around the fork, taking the flavors of the pastry in as he pulled the fork from your lips.

"Fuck me Carmen" You couldn't contain yourself, it was mouth wateringly delicious. It was probably the best desert you had ever put into your mouth, apart from the chocolate cake you had that past sunday night. "Jesus how did you even save any while you were waiting for me? That was fucking amazing." He was beaming, proud you loved the desert so much. This was his love language, food, the one thing in his life he could have some control over. He had been waiting for this night since the second you texted him about taking you on a tour of the city. He thought the food tour would be the best. It was such a simple gesture, him picking out these restaurants for the two of you to try and experience together, but it meant everything to him and soon he hoped it would mean everything to you.

"I'm officially impressed, I don't think anything could top this. How the hell are you going to top this Carmen?" He glanced up at you through his thick lashes, "You know, I'm not too sure."

He took another bite of the croissant, "That was the best reaction to a pastry I've ever seen. I'm intrigued to see what you think of the rest of the places tonight."

"Well if they are even close to being as good as this, I can tell you that I'm going to go home very satisfied tonight." Taking the last bite of the baklava and putting your trash into the brown paper bag, you watched as Carmy pulled out his phone. He was looking at a list in his notes app, you tried to sneak a peak but he pulled the screen just out of your vision. He wanted to keep the next stops a surprise.

"Alright," He met your gaze, "Do you want to do appetizers or drinks first?" You contemplated the question, knowing that it would be better if you ate some more before you had any drinks. That's the best way to keep yourself clear minded around the handsome chef, you didn't need any slips of the tongue embarrassing you in front of him.

"Hmm, appetizers?" You were unsure of your answer but he nodded, making your choice seem like a good one. Standing up he grabbed the remains of your pastries, throwing them into the brown takeout bag, and tossing the whole thing into the trash. You stood in quick succession with him. Knowing he wanted to get going so the two of you could continue with the night he planned so meticulously. As you stood up next to him, he outstretched his tattooed hand, implying he wanted you to take it.

You flushed, realizing his intentions, and slipped your cold fingers into his. His grip was firm, but kind, the two of your hands slotting together perfectly. You shot him a smile, he returned it and started walking onto the sidewalk, pulling you along with him. Your joined hands were creating a perfect amount of warmth that shot straight into your stomach, making you feel fuzzy inside. You could walk around this city forever with him, he just had this aura around him, making everything feel so warm.

The two of you walked through the streets, making your way to the next stop on his mini food tour of River North. He told you all about his siblings, taking over the restaurant, and learning about all the chefs who worked in The Beef. You could tell that he cared so deeply for his craft and for each and every person he surrounded himself with. You told him about your move to the city, why you came here, moving out of your hometown had been hard, but you think you found a quiet sense of home in this large city. You didn't mention that he was that quiet sense of home, but he didn't need to know that. It took about ten minutes to get to the next stop, Carmy stopping suddenly and dropping your hand.

Looking to your left, you saw a large line of people waiting to enter a restaurant on a street corner, illuminated with warm lights hanging from the ceiling, and intricate architecture. Carmy walked up to the host, standing at the door letting people in, had a short conversation, then turned back to you. He lifted his hand for you to take, leading you into the restaurant. You were met with a burst of warmth and the smell of bone broth overwhelming you.

This was going to be an amazing night.

another note: i hope you guys enjoy this little mini series, i'm just doing it for some fun! i would totally recommend trying some of these places if you are from chicago or happen to be going there for any reason. they all are so amazing! i'm going to write at least one more part for this to just wrap it up! thank u all ♡ .

#the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear season 2 #the bear season 1 #jeremy allen white x reader #jeremy allen white #female reader #x you #x reader #part 2

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schemmentis · 20 days

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La Cosa Nostra - Pt. 20

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Part 18 / Part 19

Cowritten w/ @janeyseymour

Summary: The arduous task of leaving, and rebuilding.

WC: 1.9k

Over the weeks that those close to you adjust to the news of your little family of four being gone, you're all recovering in the safety of the hospital. Cat's is the slowest going. You and Melissa, while still in quite a bit of pain, are out of the woods. So is Rosie, though she isn't her usual hyper and always moving self. She’s content to sit quietly with you and occasionally snuggle up close to her sister in her hospital bed.

Cat slowly, painstakingly, gets there- after another surgery and plenty of medication and watchful eyes of professionals. Her little eyes open and stay that way more and for longer periods of time. Once she's stable, you and Melissa know you can't wait any longer. You have to leave. Before word somehow gets out that you are, in fact, still alive.

Cat's doctors contact a highly respected colleague in New York to coordinate them taking over her care as soon as you get there, essentially. Before you can leave though, you have one more meeting to sit in on. This time, instead of at businesses or the police station, it's in Cat's small hospital room. Melissa is sitting on the edge of your eldest's bed, holding a tiny hand as Cat catches a bit more sleep. You're sitting in a chair at the other side of the bed, holding Rosie in your lap.

Agent Shaw and Agent Danik greet Rosie enthusiastically when they arrive, happy to see her getting a little bit back to her usual self now that her sister is improving as well. Rosie hugs them both tight, like she used to do Luca and AJ at Sunday dinners. Like she only ever does people she likes. You almost want her to hate them, but your little girl doesn’t understand that these two are a big part of the reason that you’re in the mess you are. If they hadn’t suspected you to be a part of the hit on Bobby, none of this ever would’ve come about. But even you’ll admit, they’ve done a lot for you in the last weeks. They’re almost constantly standing guard with you, and you’ve even gotten to get to know them a bit better and see more into their personal lives.

The agents take the other chairs in the room, sitting opposite you and Melissa both. Danik hands your wife a folder while Shaw hands you an identical one.

“You each have copies of the documents for the house in New York. We'll be able to mail you the proper ones once we sort out your aliases- along with more documents for you both and the girls. Right now, we've got the plane tickets just with a different last name, to keep anyone trying to from immediately realizing it's you, though I doubt anyone is looking at this point. But once you're in New York you need to have completely different ones.” Danik explains quietly.

“The girls will be confused by calling them different names…” You mutter, flipping through your folder.

“They’re already confused enough not being able to go back home,” your wife sighs softly as she runs a hand through her hair.

“I know,” you reply just as quietly.

“We could…change them to the more common versions.” Melissa suggests. You hear the pain in her tone. When you were pregnant the two of you went through more names than you could count. The meanings and their significance mused to you both, but especially your wife- with Cat carrying on a family name so dear to her. Rosie was the name she'd picked herself and added the middle name her sister also carried down from their family.

“The nicknames would be the same.” Melissa says when you look at her, a tiny shrug of her shoulders as her fingers gently card through Cat's hair. “It would confuse them less.”

“Baby, are you-”

You don't even get to ask if she's sure. Melissa's head shakes as soon as you start. “We'll know what they mean and where they came from even if no one else will. It doesn't matter if it helps keep them safe.”

Reluctantly, you nod. The safety of your daughters is the only reason you're doing this as you are. Though originally you weren't going to almost die and fake die for it. You guess it is safer this way.

“You'll have to think of ones for yourselves, then. You're more likely to be found than the girls, especially if you kept your first names.”

You sigh. “We have to have them by the time we're in New York, right?”

“Yes. We'd prefer if you had them already but it's more important that we get you out of here right now. We'll provide an income every month, a set amount to help you get by.”

“I'm sure we'll still need to work.” Melissa says, looking to Agent Dakin.

The agent smiles wryly. “Unfortunately we can't provide you mafia level money.”

“I dunno.” You say, shutting your folder as you glance to your wife. Your shoulders shrug. “Could be fun to do somethin’ totally normal for once without worrying ‘bout the rest. ‘Sides, we both have business experience. We'll figure it out.”

“Neither of you can open a business again,” Danik warns. “Publicity will not do you any favors… even in a big city like Manhattan.”

Melissa sinks. She was hoping she would be able to open another restaurant… she’d make good money in such an affluent city. But that possibility was just thrown out the window.

A few hours later, you, your wife, and your girls are on an airplane in a private area, sorting through everything.

“So… Catherine Ann and Rose Marie,” Melissa sighs as she writes your daughters new legal names. “Last name?”

You shrug. “Should we stick with Italian, or go Irish this time?”

“Probably Italian,” your wife tells you as she scribbles down a few things. “And we need new names.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I think I want to go with Saoirse... freedom,” you say softly as you rock your youngest daughter in your lap gently. “And...” you do a quick search on your phone for different Italian last names.

“Hm?” Melissa hums.

“I’m looking at common last names, and I like... Fumagalli, or.... Carozza,” you tell Melissa.

Your wife looks at you with those sparkling green eyes of her, and she then rolls them at you. “Do you have any idea what those words mean in Italian?”

You quirk your head and raise a brow. “No? Should I?”

“Fumagalli means smoked poultry,” she deadpans.

“And I love a smoked bird,” you quip. “And it’s a cool last name!”

“And Carozza literally means mozzarella cheese.”

You laugh out loud at that one. “I knew that one sounded familiar... but I do like mozzarella cheese. It’s my favorite kind!”

“Good lord,” your wife grumbles as she writes down both last names on a lined piece of paper as ideas. “You have to be kidding me. How were we a part of the mob, and yet you come up with ridiculous shit like this?”

“You love me,” you smile at her as you set a soft hand on her knee.

“You’re damn lucky.” Melissa grumbles as she writes a few of her own ideas down.

You peek over her shoulder, seeing the list of last names, your suggestions followed by her own. “What about your name?” You ask.

“Raphaela.” Your wife answers with no hesitation, making clear she's considered this about as much as you have. She glances back at you with a small, almost shy smile. “It means God has healed.”

“I guess in a roundabout way, he has, huh?” You say. “Barb would've liked that one.” You add in a quiet murmur.

Melissa doesn't miss it, nodding and muttering her own agreement as she turns back to the list of last names. “Vinci.” She says aloud, looking back to you once more. “To conquer.”

You can't fight the grin on your face at the meaning. “I like that.” You admit, quickly stealing a kiss from Melissa. “But you're sure you don't want to be mozzarella? I know it's your favorite too.” You can't help but tease.

Melissa rolls her eyes, gently shoving you back to your own seat space. “I don't want to be cheese or smoked poultry, Thank you.”

When your flight lands you and Melissa have agreed on your new identities. By the time you're in a cab and nearly to your new home, you've failed your additional attempts to persuade her into your more silly last names. Not that you really wanted to. It just gave you both something to focus on fake arguing about to pass the time.

“We'll have to wait for all the documents back before we can enroll the girls back in school.” You say as you walk with Melissa up the steps of your new house. Each of you holding one of your girls in your arms.

“Maybe that's for the best.” Melissa says from next to you. You reach behind the porch light, feeling blindly for the key you were told you'd find hidden for you. You make a mental note it might be a good idea to change the locks at the first opportunity, just to be safe. “At least it will give Cat more time to recover.” Your wife adds as you slip the key into the lock.

“Guess we'll tell them it's a little vacation?” You suggest, glancing over your shoulder.

“I don't know.” Melissa says, making a face. “That will just make them more confused when the vacation doesn't end.”

You sigh but nod, knowing she's right. “We've got time to figure it out, at least.” You say, pushing the front door open. You look back to your wife. “You ready? First step of the rest of our lives.”

“Amore, that step happened when we got on the plane, if not before that.” Melissa says softly. Still, she puts a hand on your cheek, thumb gently rubbing at your skin in affection and nerves just the same. “Hopefully there's beds, at least.” She mutters before kissing you once.

“I don’t think I could sleep on the couch again if I tried,” you grumble.

You let Melissa step in ahead of you, pulling the door shut behind you and flipping the lock back in place. You trail after your wife, glad to find a sofa in the living room. It's certainly not like your living room back in Philly, or like one actually lived in but it's something.

You don't linger there, keeping a pace behind Melissa down the hallway. She opens one of the doors, finding the bathroom. The next is a bedroom, blissfully with a bed. Again, the room is not fully decorated but the basics are here. It's enough, for now.

You and Melissa carefully nestle your sleeping daughters to the bed. You don't even bother checking the other bedroom. The two of you are already content to squeeze onto the edges of the bed with the girls. It's been a long few days. This house doesn't feel like home, not yet, if it ever will, but with the feel of Melissa’s hand slipping into your own and squeezing, the sound of the girls’ quiet breathing, it's enough of home for you for right now.

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary fanfiction #la cosa nostra #collab fic

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duskandcobalt · 2 months

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Everywhere, Everything: Chapter Four

Chapter Summary: Azriel meets Elain’s new boyfriend at Nyx’s birthday party. Graysen has some questions about Elain’s “friend.”

Word Count: 4.4K

Missed the first three chapters? You can find the Masterlist for this fic here 🥰

A/N: chapter four already!! Thank you to everyone that’s read this fic and commented or interacted in anyway! I’ve had the loveliest messages come through and it’s been such a joy to chat with you guys about this. I’m a little extra nervous to post this chapter, please keep in mind that this is a bit of a slow burn and we must suffer a little before we get our reward. Alternate title is “Graysen Slander (Azriel’s version)”

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

Flying back home to Velaris had caused Elain a level of anxiety that had previously been unknown to her.

There used to be a time where she enjoyed seeing her city from the birds-eye-view of an airplane window. She loved to look down and admire the twinkling lights on either side of the sprawling river that split her hometown in half. She liked to scan the buildings as they came into view and point out each place that held a space of her heart because of the special memories attached.

There was her elementary school, the movie theater parking lot where she had her first kiss, and her favourite library. There was the ice-cream shop located a few blocks from their childhood home that she and her sisters would sneak out to at all hours of the night for their cookie dough fix, not bothering to change out of their robes and slippers. She’d look out for the small park where she and Nesta spent their Saturday’s sprawled in the grass, reading books and gossiping. Her heart ached as she spotted the rose and sculpture garden she and Azriel liked to stroll through early on Sunday mornings, hot cups of coffee warming their hands as they walked and talked, Azriel leaning in close to tell Elain that the roses there had nothing on the ones that she grew in her garden.

She hadn’t bothered to point any of those places out to Graysen as their flight had made its descent. Hadn't really felt the need or desire to share those parts of herself with him. She’d just sat quietly, staring straight at her own reflection in the little screen in front of her as she took deep breaths to try and ease the rapid beating of her heart.

Her anxiety had calmed a little once they’d landed and disembarked, emerging from their gate to Nyx’s loud squeal of her name which brought her back to reality just in time for her to drop her bags and catch his tiny body as he ran towards her at full speed and flung himself into her outstretched arms.

“Hi, baby!” She’d hugged him tight, overwhelmed by just how much she’d missed him.

“Hi, Lain!” Nyx giggled, his little face tucked tight against her neck.

She hadn’t questioned the nickname, one her nephew had never called her before, because she had been too distracted breathing in the scent of his hair - the scent of the same watermelon shampoo that her mother had used during bath time when she and her sisters were kids. It was comforting and familiar and exactly what she needed to push past the worry that had rendered her useless for the past few hours..

The initial introductions had gone as well as she could’ve hoped.

Graysen had defaulted back to the easy charm that he’d used back in the day to talk Elain into a drink and it seemed to work on Feyre and Rhys well enough that the drive back to their house and the late dinner that followed were easy and painless. The only hiccup was that Nyx refused to even greet Graysen and had thrown him the most menacing looks he could muster up each time Graysen so much as attempted to hold Elain’s hand.

“He’s jealous,” Feyre had laughed nervously, embarrassed by her son’s behavior after he’d insisted on sitting next to Elain at dinner. “He’s always been a little territorial when it comes to her and since he hasn’t seen her in a few months…”

Graysen had laughed it off but Elain had caught the annoyance in his demeanor at the idea of having to share her. Even if the person he was sharing her with was just her soon-to-be five year old nephew.

Elain’s anxiety returned in full force the next afternoon when guests began to arrive for Nyx’s party. No amount of rearranging balloons or organising the treat station could keep her attention off the front door each and every time it opened. It was only a matter of time before he showed up and the wait was torture. In the years she’d known Azriel, he’d never once missed an important event when it came to his friends and there was no way he’d start now.

“So…” Nesta appeared next to her suddenly, head cocked to the side as she leant against the table and watched in amusement as Elain straightened the goodie bags for the seventh or eighth time that hour. “Graysen seems nice.”

“Yeah,” Elain nodded, not bothering to look up from the little cellophane bags full of treats that she’d been busying herself with for the last ten minutes. She didn’t need to look at Nesta to know her true feelings. She could hear it in her voice. “He’s great.”

“He’s very… passionate.” Her sister studied her nails as she fought to hold back the teasing smile that played on her lips. “About work. And golf. And work. And his car… Did I mention his work? Because he certainly did.”

“Okay, okay.” Elain groaned, casting a fleeting glance across the room where Graysen was still chatting to Rhysand.

She sent a thank you to the universe that Feyre had married a man that had the talent and patience to talk to absolutely anyone. She couldn’t say the same for Cassian, who had quickly maneuvered out of that conversation and over to the backyard to terrorize the kids, instead.

“He just loves his job,” Elain shrugged, finally turning to face her sister.

Nesta raised a perfectly manicured brow, fixing Elain with a pointed look. “You mean he loves money.”

There was a reason Elain had never introduced a boy to her family and the reason was standing directly in front of her, all perfectly coiffed hair and dangerous eyes. Feyre could find a way to see the good in anyone and the boys would say they were okay with whoever Elain dated as long as she was happy. But Nesta - Nesta had always had a knack for seeing straight through any of Elain’s lies and she’d never been afraid to call her out when necessary. It was a quality Elain had come to appreciate from time to time but she didn’t appreciate it today.

“I mean… he does work in finance.”

“Elain.” Another pointed look was thrown in her direction.

“Nesta.”

“He looks like he pays more for a haircut than I do.”

“Nesta!” Elain hit her sister on the arm, unable to stifle the laugh that bubbled to the surface. She knew exactly how much Graysen paid for his hair cuts and Nesta was right. “He’s nice.”

“You know who’s nicer...” Nesta said it under her breath but Elain heard her loud and clear.

“Stop,” Elain lowered her voice. “Please. You promised.”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell the boys and I haven’t,” she replied without missing a beat. “I never promised we wouldn’t talk about it at all.”

“Nesta, please. I can’t talk about this now.”

What Elain really wanted to say was that she couldn’t talk about this ever, but she knew that would only result in more back and forth and right now all she wanted was for this conversation to be over.

“He’s miserable, El.” Nesta lowered her voice to match Elain’s. “He’s very good at acting like he’s fine but he’s not. You just left and I know you’ve cut him off completely since and -”

“I haven’t spoken to anyone, really. It’s not like I’ve only stopped talking to hi-” Elain abruptly stopped speaking, standing up straight and plastering a smile on her face just as she spotted Graysen beginning to make his way towards them.

He didn’t have a chance to say anything, had only just managed to sling an arm around Elain’s waist when the front door swung open and Shadow came flying through. She was nothing but a black blur, ducking and dodging around furniture as she ran straight through to the kitchen. She paused in front of Rhys for a quick hello before she made a beeline towards where Elain stood with Nesta and Graysen by the dining room table.

Her long tail wagged furiously, whipping against the wooden leg of the table. Shadow was seemingly unbothered, too busy flailing around happily between Nesta’s legs before she finally came to a stop in front of Elain. Her long snout nuzzled into Elain’s open palm and her lean body leant heavily against her thighs.

Much like Nyx, Shadow paid Graysen little to no attention other than to sniff in his direction just once which Elain thought quite strange given that Shadow loved meeting new people and she’d famously always favored the company of men.

“Hi, Shadow girl!” Elain cooed, crouching down to properly greet the dog that had come to feel like her own over the years. She’d gone with Azriel the day he’d picked her up and brought her home, had even helped name her. “Look how gray you’ve gotten!”

“She’ll be nine next week.”

The timber of his voice hit her at the exact same time as the familiar scent of his cedar cologne and Elain was suddenly grateful that she was already on the ground because if she’d been standing, she was sure her knees would’ve given out completely.

Elain swallowed her nerves, raising her eyes from Shadow’s sweet salt and pepper face to look up at Azriel only to find that every bit of his attention was focused solely on her.

“Hi, Lain.”

There were a couple beats of silence before Elain got a hold of herself and stood up. She stepped forward and before she could stop herself, she raised onto the very tips of her toes and wound her arms around his neck. Azriel’s arms wrapped around her waist in turn, tentatively at first before she felt his fingers flex against the middle of her back as he relaxed, readjusting his grip to pull her tight against his chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Probably because it had been at one point in time.

“Hi, Az.” She whispered into his neck, breathing in the divine scent of him. The scent of home.

“Hey, Azriel!” Nesta said loudly from behind them, effectively breaking the trance that Elain had unwittingly found herself in.

She let go of Azriel quickly and took a large step back, bumping into the dining table, as Nesta took her place in his arms.

She was only just aware of Graysen staring at her in her peripheral, his hand once again heavy against her hip.

“Were you planning on introducing me?” He asked her as Azriel and Nesta separated and Azriel turned to face them again. Elain hadn’t noticed that she’d been staring dumbly straight ahead - directly at Azriel’s chest.

He was wearing an oatmeal coloured fisherman’s sweater that she’d told him she loved on him more than a few times and a small, stupid part of her wondered if she crossed his mind when he slipped it on this morning.

“Oh, yes!” She shook her head, laughing nervously. “Um, Az… this is Graysen, my uh…”

“Boyfriend.” Graysen finished the sentence for her, extending his hand towards Azriel. “And you are…”

“This is Azriel. My…. Azriel.” Elain stuttered as she watched the two men shake hands.

She allowed herself the tiniest shake of her head to ease the frustration she felt towards herself. She sounded like an absolute idiot.

“I think I’ve missed something,” Graysen looked between Elain and Azriel, eyebrows lifting slightly. “How do you know each other?

“We’re good friends.” Azriel answered at the same time Elain said “He’s Rhys’ best friend.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

She couldn’t possibly have handled that any worse.

“So you’re Rhys’ friend or Elain’s friend?” Graysen asked, the slightest hint of a frown forming on his lips.

Any hope that Elain had of him dropping this topic evaporated in front of her eyes.

“We’re all friends. We met through Rhys when he started dating Feyre and we all spent basically all our time together.” She answered quickly, briefly meeting Azriel’s eyes.

Another mistake.

All she saw was hurt. No one else would’ve noticed because the emotion was there and gone in a flash but Elain saw past the mask. She saw the hurt she’d caused him. Hurt at being reduced to a friend of a friend, as if he wasn’t so much more to her. As if they hadn’t spent years of their lives seeing each other almost every day. Trading secrets. Letting each other see parts of themselves they’d never allowed anyone else to see.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Azriel smiled politely, redirecting his attention to Graysen. “I’m gonna go find the birthday boy but I’ll talk to you guys later, I’m sure.”

He didn’t look at her again before he walked away, Shadow obediently following right behind him. Even Nesta quickly excused herself so she didn’t have to be around to witness the uncomfortable tension that had settled heavily between Elain and Graysen..

She had absolutely no idea what had come over her. She thought she’d been somewhat prepared to see him again but nothing could’ve prepared her for the reality of him standing in front of her. Smiling at her. The feel of his arms around her - strong and sure and familiar. Nothing could have prepared her for seeing him walk away from her, disappointment lingering behind his eyes. She’d done that to him and she hated herself for it.

She silently cursed herself for ever thinking that bringing Graysen back here would be a good idea. Mere minutes had passed and she’d already fucked up. She had no idea how the hell she was supposed to make it through this day, let alone survive an entire weekend of this.

“What the hell was that?” Graysen muttered as Elain turned in his arms, once again plastering on a smile in a last ditch effort to rectify the mess she’d just made of that introduction.

“Nothing,” She shook her head, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “That was nothing.”

…

When Azriel walked into Rhys and Feyre’s house earlier and caught a glimpse of Elain for the first time in four months, she was wearing another one of those dresses that threatened to send him to his knees.

He loved each and every one of her dresses but the one she wore today was a pale blue with delicate straps that tied at her shoulders and draped elegantly over her frame in a way that just about teased at each dip and curve concealed by the lightweight, silky material. It was perfectly demure for a children’s birthday party but something about that dress on her was downright sinful.

Maybe if the circumstances were different, he’d be able to steal a glance every now and then and attempt to carry on with his life, but the circumstances were not different and Azriel was cursed to get through this afternoon looking at Elain in that dress with some other guy’s arm around her waist.

He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. Even if he had no right to think of her in that way. Not when she’d made it abundantly clear not once but twice now, that she didn’t want him like that. Still, he couldn’t help that the memory of her kneeling on his bed and tracing a path across his hips with that pretty mouth of hers came rushing back to the forefront of his mind in the ten or so seconds that she’d been on her knees in front of him, patting his dog and looking up at him with those big, brown eyes.

Any satisfaction that he’d gotten from that memory or simply from seeing her and having her in his arms again, disappeared the second she stepped back and he’d been introduced to her boyfriend.

He knew there was something off with the way they interacted within the first few minutes of watching them together that afternoon. Azriel knew that the smiles she gave him weren’t genuine because they never quite reached her eyes. Elain evaded Graysen’s touch, swiveling out of his grasp each and every time he went to put his hand on her hip, ducking her head so the kiss he intended to give her landed on her forehead instead of her lips.

He wondered how no one else seemed to notice it when he could see it so clearly. He was in tune with her every emotion, knew her better than he knew the back of his own hand. He’d had time to hone that skill and right now, the piece of his brain that was dedicated solely to her was screaming that something wasn’t right.

Azriel hated the way she acted around him. Hated the way Graysen acted towards her. Actually, Azriel just outright despised Graysen.

He’d come into this day wanting the best. He genuinely wanted to see Elain happy even if the notion of her being with anyone else made his chest constrict in a way that couldn’t possibly be healthy. But he knew she wasn’t happy and one handshake was all it took for Azriel to know exactly what kind of guy Graysen was.

His grip had been firm but his hands bore no evidence of ever doing anything more difficult than swinging a heavy golf club. Graysen had a smile befitting of a politician’s son - charming but edged with insincerity, like he’d do or say whatever was necessary to get what he wanted. He carried himself with the ease of someone that had had things handed to him on a silver platter for his whole life and there was a certain arrogance to him that had Azriel wondering what Elain could possibly see in him. He knew her well enough to know that it wouldn’t have been the expensive clothing or the twenty thousand dollar watch on his wrist that had piqued her interest just like he knew that the glittering diamond tennis bracelet circling her wrist was for Graysen’s benefit and not hers.

He’d endeavored to try and find out if the guy had any redeeming qualities at all to help Azriel come to terms with them being together but he’d been stopped every time he’d tried to approach Graysen.

Azriel almost found it amusing the way Elain had been running what could be considered award winning interference between himself and her boyfriend all day, somehow managing to keep them well away from each other in and amongst entertaining her nephew and his flock of tiny friends. But now that all Nyx’s friends and their parents had gone home and the sun was beginning to set, there was very little Elain could do to keep them from speaking.

Graysen had started the conversation as they sat on the couch next to each other, just behind where Elain was sitting on the floor helping Nyx unwrap the copious amounts of presents he’d received today. Graysen asked Azriel about how he had met Rhys and Azriel explained that they’d met when they were kids and Rhys’ family had all but adopted him as one of their own. The topic had turned to Velaris and Azriel had sat through mind-numbing comments about how the river looked nicer in pictures, how things closed too early, and how there was no real potential for growth.

He’d just nodded and shrugged wherever he thought appropriate and he’d failed to get more than a sentence in but then Cassian had asked if Azriel was still planning on staying at their place after dinner with everyone the next night and when Azriel had answered that he would as long as he managed to finish the ring he’d been working on, Graysen had suddenly had a lot of questions.

“So you set up a little stall at what? … Weekend farmers markets? Sell jewelry to old ladies and teenage girls?” Graysen asked after Azriel patiently explained exactly why he was making jewelry. “And you make money from that?”

Azriel noticed the way Elain stiffened at the condescending tone of Graysen’s voice. The snide way he laughed as he reduced Azriel’s work to the equivalent of a children’s roadside lemonade stand. She set down the toy she’d been unboxing for Nyx and swiveled around to face them.

“He’s not making jewelry with dollar store plastic beads, Gray.” It was maybe the most fed up Azriel had ever heard her sound. He’d always known her to stay quiet and avoid confrontation. He didn’t even need one hand to count all the times he’d seen her snap and each of those times had been at Feyre or Nesta so he didn’t really count them. “It’s his business and he’s done really well.”

“It’s fine, Lain.” Azriel said softly, his heart swelling in his chest at the way she defended him even if he was unbothered by Graysen’s comments. It was nothing he hadn’t heard before from his own father or brothers. He continued to speak, confidently taking Graysen’s questions in stride in a way that Elain hadn’t quite been able to.“I actually work in data security but I make jewelry in my spare time and sell custom pieces online. Although, I did have some pretty successful mornings at farmer’s markets when I was just starting out and -”

“I thought you didn’t like being called that.” Graysen interrupted him, calculating eyes shifting from Azriel to Elain.

“What?” Elain asked, eyebrows furrowed in a way that Azriel would’ve found endearing in any other circumstance.

“He calls you ‘Lain.’” Graysen replied. “You told me you hated when I called you that.”

“I just prefer ‘El,’” She shrugged, picking at the sleeve of the cream cardigan she’d thrown on over her dress. “And he isn’t the only one. Nyx has called me that all day today, as well.”

Azriel stayed silent. He knew exactly where Nyx had picked that nickname up from but he wasn’t about to expose himself for cornering his friend’s kid into multiple conversations with the secret agenda of trying to siphon information about what Nyx’s Auntie was up to these days.

Graysen huffed, crossing his arms like an overgrown child as he sat back. He’d dropped his line of inquisition for now but Azriel had a feeling that wasn’t the last Elain would hear of this topic and the thought made him sick.

He’d been carefully watching all afternoon - noticing the way Graysen spoke about Elain and the possessive way he touched her as if she was something to have or to own. It had turned his stomach, memories of the way he’d seen his father treat his mother seeping into his mind despite his best efforts to keep them at bay.

Azriel paid extra attention to him now, picking up the way Graysen acted towards Elain as he continued to answer questions about his jewelry. He cringed at the scowl that found a home on Graysen’s lips each time her attention was pulled away from him and the way that scowl only deepened at each passing remark that hinted that maybe Azriel and Elain had, in fact, been closer than what she might’ve alluded to earlier.

He wasn’t sure exactly what she’d told Graysen about him. He had a feeling she hadn’t told him much at all. But he saw the wheels turning in Graysen’s head when Azriel’s craft came up again and Azriel explained exactly what type of jewelry he made and Graysen’s eyes had drifted to the chain that had faithfully stayed clasped around Elain’s neck year after year.

His suspicions were confirmed an hour or so later when Azriel rounded a corner, making his way towards the powder room at the foot of the stairs only to stop halfway there when he was distracted by a pair of low voices coming from Rhysand’s office across the hallway.

It was just a simple hushed whisper but his ears perked up at the voice he’d come to find grating over this very long, very tortuous day.

He could hear his mother’s voice in his head telling him that it wasn’t polite to eavesdrop, that nothing good every came from it, but he couldn’t help himself as he stood there - still as night, locking in on the hushed conversation and blocking out the raucous laughter coming from the kitchen.

“You know what I find most interesting about all of this?” Azriel heard Graysen ask. “In four months, I’ve heard about your sisters and their husbands but you haven’t even mentioned his name once.”

“He’s just a friend,” Elain answered quietly. “I swear.”

“Right,” Graysen scoffed. “And I suppose he’s the friend that gave you that necklace?”

Azriel swallowed, his eyes pinching closed at the animosity - the clear jealousy - that laced Graysen’s question. He could hear the malice in the way he spat out the word ‘friend’. He could only imagine the way he’d be glaring at the little gold oval that Azriel knew Elain would be clutching in between her thumb and index finger.

Graysen had asked her about the necklace, that thin gold chain Azriel had gifted her all those years ago that sat faithfully around her neck every day since. It was his only sign, as delusional as it might’ve made him, that she still thought of him. After everything that had happened the year prior, Elain still wore that small, handmade pendant and even if they didn’t speak, even if his messages had gone unanswered… Maybe her continuing to wear that necklace meant that she didn’t completely despise him.

Azriel kept moving, not allowing himself to so much as breathe until he was safely behind the closed door of the powder room. He had wanted to keep listening but he knew he shouldn’t. He didn’t think he could stand to hear her answers to Graysen’s questions. Didn’t want to know if she’d attempt to explain to Graysen whatever this thing was between them or if she’d continue to insist that he was nothing more than a friend.

But Azriel wanted an answer. He deserved an answer. He just didn’t want to get it by eavesdropping on a conversation he wasn’t a part of. He needed to hear it directly from her. He needed to talk to her.

#elriel fic #everywhere everything #my writing #elain x azriel #elain archeron #elriel #modern au #acotar fanfiction #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #posting this and going tf to bed bc im NERVOUS #why is posting updates the scariest thing in the world

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katz-chow · 9 months

Note

Coming from puff puffs blog 🤧🤥 hope you don't mind 😝🙈🙉 ur also totally gaining a new follower..

WHAT ARE YOUR HEADCANONS ON SOAP? 🥰🥰🥰 unless you've already done this before then I am so sorry 😓

relationship with soap headcanons

warnings: sfw, fluff, some angst, relationship arguments, family trauma mentioned, religious trauma, homophobia, bad dad

a/n: my fav cod man is soap so this took my top priority!!! i think about this man a lot, 09 and reboot version. reboot is my fav though, realistically, he's who i would actually get with. here’s all the things i’ve thought about him, there’s probably more tbh… OK OK HERE :))

childhood hcs

johnny soap mactavish comes from a large family of 5 siblings, he's the second oldest. it's elsie, him, blair, callum, and olivia.

growing up in a family of mainly girls got him on that respect women juice. he would always have to make sure his younger siblings are ok and aren't you know, being bullied. his parents were adamant on 2 year age gaps between them all.

his cousin, jack, was an sas operator and that was what made him want to join. they had to call security forces to arrest him out at some point because he kept sneaking in to watch them do stuff lol

elsie left for uni with her bf to live in soho when johnny was 16, the same year he would talk to recruiters around his hometown, driving hours and then getting rejected the same day due to his age

9th grade (year 10) chemistry got him obsessed with stem and its *explosive* results. he aced chemistry and then took advanced chemistry and physics just because he loved it so much

after this, as soon as he turned 18, he went to sign his papers THEN graduated school (he's just like me fr). his mom was so worried for him, especially when her sister told her about the danger that jack would get himself into. in the end, he promised he'll always call her and his siblings

his dad's an ass, hes an alcoholic, a cheater, a *bitch*... he would always take the kids to church on sundays and twisted the religion into a reason for his behavior. claiming that johnny's mom being at home was just "their culture"

she makes a killer shepherd's pie though

always had had some sort of love-hate relationship with the catholic faith. on one hand, it was nice to know there's always at least someone watching out for him, but after hearing the constant belittlement from his father, claiming he wasn't "manly enough" for not willing to give his life up in the service, he started to resent the “all merciful”.

he ended up blaming god for all his faults, letting him take accountability. this especially happened when he got diagnosed with adhd when he was 17, his dad didn’t believe in mental health. his mom was only a bit better about it, they both refused meds for him.

he's bisexual, leans towards women though. found this out after a truth or dare game in junior year (year 12) and some beers in a closet

at one point, callum acccidently let it slip at dinner when johnny had first moved out that he had met a cute guy and their dad screamed and yelled at the whole family, especially their mom, about "raising a fucking whore of a son, dragging the family down to shite"

blair called and told johnny a few days later and johnny rushed his work as quickly as possible and begged his chain of command for a few days off to go back home to his family

his family gets loud…like really loud. there’s 7 people what do you expect?

it gets especially bad when it’s sunday morning and you gotta get 7 people awake and looking their church best for an hour and a half 😔

johnny is the quickest everything there is, which has its downsides too. he could run and swim the fastest in the family, but he was also the quickest eater…meaning he’s on dish washing duty. he’s quick at that too so by the time everyone’s finished, he’s washed all the other dishes that took to make dinner

broke his arm chasing a cat through someone’s yard (he was 14)

had a goat scream and kicked him because he wanted to give it a hug

he got a part time job at a local bakery in 10th grade (year 11). the pay wasn’t much but neither was the work really. olivia, who was 9 at the time, made him promise that he’ll get her a doll to have tea with. her tea set had 4 cups but only one of her, so she must get another one to join her! he kept his promise; he ended up getting three dolls for her

he can make amazing soda bread and brioche loafs now too, still keeps a starter from the owner of the bakery to this day

he had a mountain bicycle that he would take everywhere. had room behind his seat for packages and his backpack, which he would tie down. that thing had such a loud bell too, would ring constantly to “let people know hes coming and get ready”

was terrified of selkies for some reason, always had the window closed and made callum sleep by it while he slept by the door

wasn’t much of a troublemaker, but would get into trouble with his adventurous heart.

got lost in the woods once and after a while of fake courage, he sat down and cried until elsie found him. he was 20 yards (13 meters) away from the clearing 😭😭

laugh at that guys, mf was 15

personality & relationship hcs

johnny is such a fun lover. he’s handsome yeah, but what makes ppl flaunt over him is his humor. he’s what jessica rabbit said “he makes me laugh”

such a charismatic and charming person, gets it from his dad. he could talk about just about anything, also the type to strike up a conversation with a stranger at the grocery store. then end up with their number and a date or helping them dog sit

this isn’t always a good thing though, one time before he was medicated, he would talk on and on, his story becoming incoherent due to the amount of self-interruptions he made, that a group of guys got so annoyed at that pub, they punched him.

he was young, 19, and couldn’t fight, so he didn’t win and came back to the barracks with a nasty black eye

he likes to be the big spoon, has to hold something in order to sleep

feel like he’s the type to wrap his arms around a pillow and lay on his stomach to sleep

speaking of sleeping, he HATES sleeping with socks on. he tried it one day and he just shivered at the feel of it, woke up and his socks were missing (he found them under the bed)

i also feel like he sleeps like a log, unmoving once he finds his comfort, i also think it's because he had to sleep in the same bed as his siblings at one point and he didn't want to wake them by moving, so he got accustomed to being a still sleeper

one time he accidentally got into a fight at a bar when a guy kept being misogynistic and was arrested and kept in jail for the whole night until one of his civilian friends bailed him out

johnny's the type to race you in the rain to the car. again, he's quick so he's always ahead of you but then he slips from the rain and ends up all wet and muddy and in the car.

his favorite thing to do is hear you laugh. he'll do anything to hear you laugh.

whenever you're sad, he'll purposely stub his toe or trip down the stairs or make you kiss his "owie" (a papercut) to get you to cheer up. like yeah it hurts like a fucking bitch but seeing you sad hurts more than a silly tumble

number one date event is city exploring and hopping. like cafe hopping, pub hopping, museum hopping, restaurant hopping, anything that makes you get up and get going with time to sit and chill at the same time.

feels like he can eat a lot, he's the type to eat your food if you end up not liking it or being too full

when he gets home from missions and the initial excitement of seeing you dies down, he also dies down and nap for hours until it's the middle of the night and he gets up to eat something.

he loves naps. feels like he needs a nap time every day if it was possible

he's a very kind lover, he's easy going so its not hard that sometimes people take advantage of this and push his buttons until he can't take it anymore

causes a huge blowup because he can have a nasty temper whenever he bottles stuff up and pushes things aside

not a physical manifestation of anger, but definitely a verbal anger, will say things he doesn't really mean just to say it and realize right after the words leave his lips that he fucked up

but he'll stake out in front of the guest bedroom in which you've locked yourself in until you come out and he gets the chance to forgive you

the type to stand in the rain and hold a sign saying sorry right outside your window, a very cheesy romcom style (gaz made him watch them)

he loves you more than anything and loves you even more than you can keep up with him and laugh at his jokes, no matter how awful they are

he wants 4 kids by the way

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brrbrina · 1 year

Text

the moment i knew

pairing: joe burrow x reader

warnings: ANGST!

Ever since you were a kid, your birthday was the most anticipated day of the year, counting down each day, gathering your friends and close family members for your typical birthday dinner which this time around was being held in her new house, the first house she ever bought with her big girl money,

"Honey I ordered the strawberry cheesecake you like, your brother will pick it up and bring it later today" your mom stated in the phone screen in front of where while she did her makeup, sadly your parents wouldn´t be able to make it to your birthday this year, they were on a trip to Europe and you were genuinely happy for them, you don´t turn 30 years of marriage every year.

"It´s okay mom, don't worry" you said smiling "By the way thank you for the flowers, they are the prettiest flowers I've gotten in the whole day" you said and sighed "What about Joe? Did he bring you the daises you love?" your mom said excitedly

"Um" you gulped "No, I haven´t heard from him since yesterday, he has been at practice the whole day, don't worry" you said scrathing your neck "I don´t want to hold you back anymore, I love you guys have fun" you said smiling as you heard your dad mumble "Happy birthday honey, we love you, you don´t turn 25 every day!" he said as you smiled and hung up.

Finishing doing your make-up, the door ranged "Coming" you called from the 2nd floor hoping to see your boyfriend on the other side of the door "Happy birthday bubbs I love you" best friend slash sister-in-law Molly said as your brother walked in with balloons and a bouquet of flowers. "Happy birthday kiddo" your older brother Nick said as he gave you a hug.

Molly and you have been best friends since high school, and eventually, your brother and her started dating when she was a sophomore in college and Nick was a senior, they got married last year and while you were happy for them you were a little bit saddened that they got married first, you and Joe had been dating since you were a freshman and he was a junior, you had talked about marriage before and you both knew you wanted to settle down together, plus after all you kind of understood why he hadn´t popped the question, he was in his second year in the NFL and he was concentrated on getting that ring, you hated to admit it but sometimes it haunted you in the middle of the night that maybe he wouldn't give you a ring until he got his, however before the season started and you were looking for a house Joe suggested you moved in with him, and while that was a topic you had in mind before, he never brought it up anymore.

“Look babe" you sat beside him in his living room with the computer in your lap.

"I think this painting would be cute in the hall before the stair what do you think?" you said smiling "Oh, it´s cute," he told side-eyeing it, and as much as you loved hearing his opinions on different things, you were mad he didn't stop you from buying it because that meant the thought of you moving in with him had left his mind.

"I´m going to miss being your roommate," you said while packing the stuff you had in his house in the 5 weeks you lived with him, it wasn´t the wisest decision to pay another month of rent if you were going to move into your new place in a few weeks so you moved temporarily into his house, hoping he would say something about you permanently living with him "Yeah, it was fun," he said looking at his iPad as he re-watched a play on Sunday, his O-line was letting the other team sack him and even though the Bengals won 37-35 due to a 2 point conversion play he was still bitter that the Saints got so close to winning the game.

"I'm going to put this in the trunk" you said going downstairs to pack the last few things needed to move to the new place and your phone rang.

"I´ve been calling you for the last hour, where were you," Noah said on the other line "Um," you said while accommodating the box on your hip to grab her phone and put it on speaker "I´ve been loading up mom´s truck with the stuff I need to move, you wouldn´t believe how many steps I've gotten today," you said chuckling "By the way," you said as you grabbed your phone making your way outside "Are you free tonight? I would really use some help to put a few things up like the TV and accommodate my bed" "Yeah I can give you a hand" your brother said on the other line "Great! I´m on my way there I´ll send you my location so you can come by. You´re the best bye!" as you hangs up and make your way back to Joe´s entrance, to grab your purse and the last box you needed to fully leave his house and go live on your own again,

"I´m going to my place, I´ll be back later" you yelled so Joe could hear her "OK!" he yelled back, closing the door you felt her stomach drop, it would be lies saying that his indifference hadn´t been bothering you lately, more than bothering it hurt, having no idea what was going on in your boyfriend's mine was a painful engraved thought in your mind,

After arriving at the new house and sending your brother the location, you began to arrange the things that were left in boxes so that when Noah arrived they would get everything done and he could head back home quicker, it had been heavy weeks, and as much as this big step was something you had done in the past, this time felt scarier and you didn't like that feeling.

Noah arrived shortly after a few things got done and as he was helping move the heavier stuff around he asked

"Where´s Joe? I assumed he would be here when I arrived and he wasn't so I thought he would get here later but clearly, he isn´t here" your brother said sitting at her new dining table as they both ate pizza that was ordered 30 minutes ago,

"Well you know, he´s busy," you said after taking a bite of your slice "Has he helped you at all?" he said in a tone you didn´t like, it was a tone of a mad slash worried big brother, you heard it for the first time when you were 15 and stood up on a date, you felt embarrassed for having to call your brother but after all, you always had a great relationship, he was her best friend and she was his, surely there were things you didn't tell each other but there was no use in trying to hide your sadness from him,

"No, I have no idea what has gotten to him, he has been so distant since before I moved to his house temporarily, he has been so concentrated on football and I get that, there are times I feel like maybe I´m just, I don´t know" tears started to form in your eyes stuttering "Maybe Im a distraction and it´s fine, I´m happy with him besides my birthday is coming up and I´m sensing he planned something for my special day," you said while feeling Noah hug her.

And your birthday, in fact, came around, it was around 8 pm when friends from college started to roll around, even Sam and Jamarr were stopping by, you invited the closest friend of Joe from the team, and as much as she loved the other ones you were really happy only both of them came to your birthday they were also your friends and you enjoyed being in their presence.

"I have no idea why he isn´t here, he left early from practice and we assumed it was because of her birthday" You overheard Sam talking to your brother before you entered the rest room, "Look, I´ll call him and see what´s up, maybe he is stuck in traffic," Jamarr said and Noah replied "Yes but make it quick because we need to sing happy birthday to her" and after what felt forever Molly made her way to her best friend with a cake on her hands and pink candles waiting to be blown, to your left it was Sydney, your best friend since the womb, your moms had been forever best friends and got pregnant at the same time without planning and she knew you like the back of her hand, "Make a wish G!" Sydney said looking at Gracie with her big green orbits, " I wish you were here to celebrate my birthday with me," you thought, blowing the candles, thinking of Joe.

You felt like the prettiest woman that had ever walked on earth, but what´s the point of feeling pretty if the person you thought while looking for this dress wasn´t there to twirl you around and tell you how pretty you looked, it was the most worrying thought but we have all felt that way sometimes. What do you do when the one who means the most to you is the one that didn´t show?

Tears streamed down your face, it was now 11:59 and you hadn´t heard from Joe in the whole day. When you started dating you told him this was the day you were most excited about "I will always be there to celebrate with you, I will make every day your birthday if I need to" he said before giving your face kisses.

Remembering that know, hurt, it hurt in ways you never knew could hurt, you were scared this day would come, it was this irrational fear of abandonment you felt since you were a kid, you told Joe the thing that haunted you in the middle of the night and this was one of them.

But as the hours ticked by and everyone went home, Joe still hadn't shown up. Your hurting became worrying. You tried calling him, but he didn't answer. You sent him text after text, but he didn't respond. As the night wore on, you started to feel more and more anxious. Was he okay? Had something happened to him? There was no way he would forget her girlfriend's birthday right? He was in love with her and he would never hurt her, right?

You cried her way to sleep and woke up to a few texts

Amore: Happy birthday!!

Amore: I´m sorry I didn´t make it last night I came home and fell asleep and woke up about 10 minutes ago. I´m leaving for an away home at 3pm, I promise you we will celebrate when I come back. Love you!

You didn´t reply, your brain was empty and having a headache due to the tears, it was the worst birthday ever. As the morning went by and you scrolled on TikTok you came across a video that broke your heart. It was Joe sitting in your favorite restaurant, sitting in a booth across from a woman you had never seen before, it looked like they were having a great time and you hadn't seen Joe smile like that in forever. Was this it? Should you confront him?

He should´ve been there, with the "Baby, I'm here smile" with the biggest bouquet of flowers and telling you how pretty you were the whole night, looking at you with loving eyes but he wasn´t there, he was with someone else and that made your heart sank, how could you be so sure he would be the father of your kids and the one you would grow old with if he didn't felt the same?

Y/N: I'm sorry too you didn´t make it, have a safe flight.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow blurb #joe burrow angst #spideybrina #Spotify

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foxyanon · 4 months

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Eve

Summary: Title inspired by Eve by Precious Pepala, and I did take a little inspiration from the movie The Devil All The Time. It’s a short one and a song fic, so enjoy.

Pairing: Masema Dagar x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+, MDNI

TW: manipulation (its Masema), implied smut, religious themes

Word Count: 1621

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Wheel of Time nor do I own any of the images used.

Dividers by @arcielee

Lock me up and throw away the key

'Cause there’s something wrong with me

Something inside you told you this was wrong, but he treated you so well that you didn’t realize until it was too late. Not that you’d want to leave, because you did love him. At least, that’s what you’d tell yourself when the old you, the independent you, made her appearance inside your own mind. That version of you still lived within your soul and she wanted out, or did she?

Throw me in a padded cell

Feel like I'm falling from heaven to hell

You met Masema on a perfect day, the sun filtering through the trees on your hike on a small stretch of the Appalachian Trail. You were so caught up in the sounds and beauty of nature that you hadn’t been paying attention to where you were going when you ran into the most handsome stranger you’d ever seen. His duo colored eyes caught you off guard, his strong hands wrapped around your arms to keep you from falling over. He smiled and you knew you were a goner, introducing yourself with a silly grin and apologizing for nearly sending you both off the path. He simply laughed that it wasn’t a big deal, but that you could make it up to him with a dinner date. You should’ve said no and walked away, but his eyes had ensnared you and you were lost.

Found the apple of my eye

And I want to take a bite

Whirlwind romance would be an understatement to describe the relationship you found yourself in. From the moment you met, Masema constantly swept you off your feet and you were on cloud nine with him. He was charming, charismatic and oh, so romantic. He opened doors for you, always held your hand whenever you crossed the street and lavished you with attention and gifts all the time. All flowers and honeyed words, you couldn’t see that it was textbook lovebombing. Maybe if you had seen the red flags then, you would have run away but you know that would be a lie.

Maybe you can call me Eve

Standing here under the forbidden tree

His kiss was all-consuming, the way he devoured you and all rational thought from your mind. His touch was hot and demanding, causing your head to spin whenever he so much as brushed your cheek with his fingers. You didn’t realize you had started pulling away from your friends, too caught up in Masema and the way he made you feel so damn good. They tried staging an intervention at one point, but Masema had convinced you that they were trying to pull you apart. That he loved you and he would never hurt you, and heaven help you because you believed him without question.

Father, forgive me for I have sinned

This love isn't holy, but I’m too far in

Despite having been together for weeks now, you and Masema hadn’t been intimate once. There were plenty of times you both got close, but he always pulled away, claiming he was waiting until marriage for such things. You respected his wishes, even if you wanted nothing more than to lose yourself in the carnal pleasures he would bring about within you. Instead, you contented yourself to heated make out sessions and just dealing with your own pleasure when you were alone. Not that you could do that often, since Masema rarely left you alone for extended periods of time.

Father, forgive me

'cause I don't know if I can change

You hadn’t been particularly religious before, but that all changed with Masema. He was heavily involved in his faith and the church, spending every Sunday at the church. You were skeptical in the beginning, the first real sign of resistance on your part but Masema’s silver tongue convinced you to go just once and try it. If you had been a stronger woman, you wouldn’t have caved so easily to his sweet face. You would have seen his smile for what it was, the kind hiding a forked tongue and fangs. But you weren’t and you went with him, sitting in the front pew as you listened to him passionately give a sermon. After that day, you never missed on of his services, always thrilled to hear him speak and really connect with the congregation.

This hurts me like hell

Feel like the angel who fell, fell for the devil

Masema proposed after only six months of nearly non-stop dating, the day he asked the question one of the happiest days of your life. He took you out to your favorite restaurant, wining and dining you and treating you like his most cherished possession. After dinner, he took you back to the place you both met before the sun set, his hand in yours as you both made your way along the path. Lanterns lit the little area he had set up, your favorite dessert in the picnic basket he brought and roses waiting on a blanket just off the trail a little ways. The whole thing was beyond romantic and never had you been with someone so considerate as him. Naturally you said yes when he asked, being swept up in one of his passionate kisses and feeling euphoric from the high only he provided.

God only knows what mother would say

If I brought the devil to dinner one day

Planning for your wedding started pretty much immediately since you were desperate to finally be with him and you set a date for only a few months later. However, you realized only after the planning process began did you realize you hadn’t introduced him to your parents. So, a few days later you were at your parents house having dinner when you told them the joyous news. You thought they’d be excited, but you were wrong. They tried talking to you alone, but Masema refused to leave your side, claiming that whatever needed to be spoken should happen in front of both of you. Your mom tried convincing you that this wasn’t like you and your dad outright told you that Masema wasn’t a good man. You weren’t hearing it and promptly left, unaware that would be the last time you’d see your parents.

She'd pray for deliverance

She'd pray for his grace

Even without all your friends and family, your wedding was a lovely affair. The whole church was in attendance as you walked down the aisle to pledge the rest of your life to the one who held your entire being in his hand. The ceremony was done in the chapel and the reception in the basement of the church, which meant no alcohol was involved. Not that you cared, Masema spun you around the makeshift dance area on the dingy blue carpet and that was a greater feeling than being inebriated. That night when you two made it to the hotel for your honeymoon, you both practically ripped each others clothes off and went at it like wild animals. After a year of heated touches and teasing, he finally gave in to your desires and had you on every surface of that room. If you had thought he had his hooks in you before, they only dug in deeper when you felt him inside you for the first time as be brought you pleasure no other ever had before.

'Cause I'm not the angel they want me to be

After your wedding, Masema convinced you to move somewhere new and start fresh when he was offered a position to be a pastor in a small church in the middle of nowhere. You agreed and soon you two were living in an old Victorian era farmhouse in some small mountain town. The chipped white paint on the exterior and wrap-around front porch were your favorite features, but due to how remote you were, you had to give up more than a few luxuries. You loved it, even if you didn’t have all the modern conveniences of your old apartment, like central heat and air or even high speed internet. Even though you you missed your hometown and being social, you had Masema and that was all you needed now.

Father, forgive me

'cause I don't think I wanna change

Because of your shared beliefs, you didn’t believe in contraception and thus, it wasn’t long before you ended up pregnant with the first of many. You were both thrilled, having wanted to start a family and raise them up properly with your religious beliefs. If you spent any time at all alone with your thoughts, you would have remembered that you didn’t want to end up a barefoot and pregnant housewife. But you never did, constantly chasing after small children or doing work for the church, seeing as you were the pastor’s wife and busy teaching impressionable young girls what their role would be in this life.

This hurts me like heaven

Feel like the angel who fell

Many years later, you still lived in blissful ignorance with Masema and your children. You didn’t know about how he had driven away your exes, or how he been deliberate with his actions as he manipulated you and molded you into his perfect little love. Whenever you’d start to resist him and his ideas, he simply showered you in more gifts and attention, making you forget all about whatever rebellious thoughts had rattled around your mind. You never could break free of his grasp, but you realized that you really didn’t want too. After all, you were in love with the devil and he loved you too.

Fell for the devil

Taglist: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @gemini-mama @whitedarkmoonflower @valeskafics @mrsarnasdelicious @synintheraven @bouncehousedemons

#masema #masema x reader #masema dagar #modern!masema

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ginjones · 1 year

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Dreamling for the Holidays! Happy whatever you celebrate Everyone!

Christmas shopping, for Hob at least, is now a relaxed affair. It starts on the first Saturday of September, when damp leaves flutter in their burnished hues, and finishes in the zephyrs grey gales of November. This year, gift buying is punctuated with a stroll through Hyde Park, then coffee with Sarah and Marlow the dog; a brief scoot to the New Inn to fix rotas, then back to the flat for dinner and scotch and Byron’s Hebrew Melodies- ‘She walks in beauty, like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies’.

Christmas shopping is categorically not the cataclysmic disaster it was two years ago when, only a month into his fledgling power as Hope of the endless, he had naively sauntered down Oxford Street in December and was immediately bombarded with the hopes and wishes of several thousand people. From a cursory glance at their aura-space, it became clear that the majority were hellbent on receiving the most expensive version of whatever had piqued their Pavlovian response. It was all a bit sad really. A hopeful celebration reduced to consumer fodder.

In the thrum of the crowded street, Hob had found himself omitting a quiet, internal light which searched vacantly for direction. It found none. Pulled between his function to obey the will of the people and disinclined to offer his gift to the undeserving, he had panicked, abandoned his shopping, and ran to the marginal safety of the nearest pub.

It was an experience not worth repeating.

He had seen Dream in these recent months. Usually on gilded evenings where they would walk the hillocks of Hamstead Heath, their pathway illuminated in the jewelling light of early autumn. They would talk about Hope and how Hob was feeling and Dream, in his somnolent tones would tell him stories about the heavy burden of purpose; the arduous confines of duty. Then, when Hob would place an arm around his shoulder and sigh warmly, when he would send a little of his hope out into the world around them, Dream would smile at the change in the air and talk about presence and creation and magic. And everything, once more, would seem like a gift.

It was on one of these walks that he got the idea, and the signature white box was the easiest to find.

He had found it on Ebay of all places. It wasn’t as expensive as he had imagined but expense, of course, had not been the point. The gift itself, had been harder to track down. He had found it at last in a rundown antique shop near Columbia Road. A tiny little thing, mottled with the faint impressions of distant fingerprints, its paintwork faded, its silver motif browning with age. He held it up to the light and every one of its stories solidified and sang out. It was perfect. In pencil drawn font, the price read £12.

The shop owner, Sebastian Rossi, had not been home to visit his sister in 8 years. She grew tomatoes in her garden and played backgammon on Sundays and called Sebastian ‘piccolo leone’ even after all these years. Hob smiled at Sebastian and gave him £50.

He had hidden the gift in his flat for weeks on the off-chance Dream might make a surprise visit. He did in fact, several times, and Hob had been mindful to divert his attentions away from the little white box and the gift it contained. Hob had found, much to his chagrin, that his daydreams were still very much on display despite his ascension to endless. It was however, much easier now to simply hope them away, when Hob could physically see the threads of thought forming. Pass a hand over the opalescent swirl and sweep it gently from the air, fold it up and tuck the remnants away in his pocket.

Gift giving was not a tradition when he was growing up. Gifts, or any items not made for the sheer purpose of living and surviving, were few and far between. Instead, gifts came in the form of the first blush of springtime, when winter frost melted, and wild garlic bloomed. Or in the first mouthfuls of summer fruits and plentiful game, that made children plumper and bellies full.

Between 1851 and 1858 Hob, fresh off a successful investment in Singer sewing machines, had rented a house in Regent’s Park and employed the services of two maids. He had enjoyed treating them to the fancier linens when Boxing Day came around and would dutifully send out for orders of pink lace and taffeta.

And now here it was finally. Christmas Eve 2022 and Dream was sitting in the warm light of his living room, the only entity in existence who could make a battered couch look like a regal throne. They had spent the last few hours curled up together, reading silently. Dream, a copy of Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations. Hob, The Black Tudors by Miranda Kaufmann. It was a pastime they had both come to enjoy, especially as Hob’s power blossomed and their thoughts could interlink in a stream of words, allusion and metaphor. It was like reading two books at once although at first, the whole concept had been baffling. As the last page was turned, Hob placed the book down and went to fetch the gift from the cupboard in the kitchen. Returning back, he placed the little white box in Dream’s hands and curled up next to him.

“That’s for you.” Hob said, draping an arm over Dream’s shoulders and pulling him in closer. “It’s just a little thing. I know you don’t celebrate Christmas or Yule or whatever, but I just thought you deserved something. So…”

“A gift for me?” Dream answered, in a soft tone that sounded like the ebb of the sea on a clear, crisp day. His finger traced over the golden embossment on the top of the box. “Pandora” he continued; confusion etched on his features for the briefest of seconds before Dream’s face lit up from within at the story beginning to form. He looked back to Hob and then, in a display of feigned dramatics, opened the box tentatively and peered inside. With careful movements, as if what lay inside was as precious as hope itself, Dream picked up the little dove ornament with its decorative band of silver stars and laid it gently in the palm of his hand.

“Got it in an antique shop.” Hob said “Like I said, it’s just a silly little thing but it’s supposed to represent…”

“You,” replied Dream in wonderment. “The only thing that remained in Pandora’s box…”

“Was Hope.” Hob finished, smiling. “The silver stars are you though. I wouldn’t be the man I am today, the…being I’m becoming without your guidance.”

They were quiet for several moments. Dream had closed the box carefully, almost reverently, and held it along with the ornament tight to his chest. The world outside would tell its own stories in the pale moonlight of Winter. December skies are often clear and somewhere, in the unfathomable stretch of night, mortal men would glimpse the celestial journey of a shooting star.

“It is perfect.” Said Dream.

I am too busy now to write much so I just wanted to go out with a bang and dedicate this to @moorishflower and @landwriter who are leagues above me in ability and storytelling. Thank you for all the amazing content that has inspired me to work harder and write better! x

#dreamling fic #the sandman fic #hope!hob #Hope of the endless #Dream of the endless #the sandman #teeth rotting fluff #dream x hob #dreamling #why do I love Hope Hob so much?#holiday fic

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niamh-oshea · 1 month

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"One more week to go..."

This, and many variations of it, have become an ongoing mantra for Niamh weeks leading up to May 03, 2024 — the day her dissertation was due. The young Scot had had this date marked ever since she'd taken on her newest version of Mount Everest more than a couple of years ago. But with one week to go, the closer she was to the finish line, the more it seemed to require of her — physically, mentally and emotionally.

Niamh knew she had to slow down. If she were to ever cross the finish line, she knew she had to. Not only because her loved ones have repeatedly encouraged her to, but she could feel it herself. The frequent headaches, loss of appetite, dizzy spells, chest pain...

But she was so close; she couldn't lose steam now...

And so, the weekend came and went, though more packed than she'd've liked.

Earlier that week, her office had requested her specific services for that Saturday's meeting with a group of Pakistani dignitaries. What was meant to only take the morning, stretched well into the day and night when her supervisor didn't think much of asking more of her 'while she was there anyway'. Unable to say no, this left Niamh with no choice but to resume writing her paper by midnight, thankfully surrounded by the gentle company of her sister-in-law's pets, and quite possibly the most patient boyfriend known to man.

By 2:05AM, Niamh could no longer keep her eyes open. With her head pounding, she welcomed Isaac's sleepy yet equally warm pull for a cuddle, taking her barely a wink before she was fast asleep.

The next day, Sunday, was meant for rest and recuperation. Isaac made sure of it. However, by the time the couple had arrived home from their day with Alistair and Annie, Niamh somehow felt more tired than the day prior. But before she could get a grasp of how her Sunday evening with Isaac transpired, her Monday morning alarm was already going off, bright and early at five in the morning.

Looking over to her side, Niamh envied how peacefully Isaac slept. He looked so beautiful and warm and inviting. She had half the mind to slip back beneath the covers with him when her phone beeped with a message from her professor. With a sigh, and a soft kiss on Isaac's lips, Niamh left him with a message on their nightstand — and in his car, just in case — apologising for her very early start and promising to spoil him for dinner that evening at their favourite restaurant, seven o'clock sharp.

Despite her busy schedule, she made sure she put in the time for Isaac. It was the least she could do for everything he's done for her.

But seven o'clock came and went, and there was no sign from the usually punctual Niamh. Not even a message informing Isaac she was running late. Fifteen minutes passed and her usual seat on their usual table by the window was still unoccupied. By half past, Niamh's brother was called, but even Alistair hadn't heard from her, either. He did, however, promise that he and his wife will help Isaac look for her in all her usual places — her classrooms, her professor's office, the school library, her favourite coffee shop, and even at her office downtown.

It wasn't until 8:13PM when Isaac's phone rang with an unknown number, coming from the one place none of them thought to look.

"Hello? Is this Mr Isaac Bourdin? This is Carol from Mount Sinai Hospital," said the woman on the other end of the line. "I'm calling on behalf of a Miss Niamh O'Shea..."

#[ niamh o'shea || narrative 02 ]

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viisator · 11 months

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Fearless

Pairings: Nishimura Riki X F!Reader

Genre: Neighbor to Lovers? (I'm so not sure)

Warning: None.

Reminder: Pov shifts between Y/n and Ni-ki's perspectives.

Summary: You've liked Nishimura Riki since the day you first saw him, he's your neighbour three blocks away. It wasn't that you wanted to be obvious around him, it's just that, you wanted him to feel how much you cared for him, but it seems like he took your feelings negatively and everything eventually became messy with the two of you. But then when you distanced yourself from him, he started longing for your presence. Does he like you? But when prom came and you didn't attend, all answers struck him like lightning. Oh, he just wanted to dance with you.

Playlist: Fearless(Taylor's version)(album), Fearless (Taylor's version)song

Not Proofread

Word count: 4453 words.

(This fic is inspired by Taylor Swift's song and album Fearless (Taylor's version))

++While I was listening to this song way back 2022, I couldn't help but to picture Ni-ki and me having so much fun dancing in a storm, and I wrote this way back in May. I forgot I have this in my drafts..++

• • • • •

Nishimura Riki, my cool, handsome, tall senior whom I fell in love with last year. I can still remember his white toothy smile and the sakura was falling dramatically. My eyes were wide open, watching him carefully, as my heart skipped a beat in the cage of my chest. He looked so majestic. I thought that that day was a fairytale and that I wished to fall in love again, again and again.

"Is this yours?" he asked looking at me, that my ignorant 15-year-old self thought he also felt what I felt that day.

"Yea-" I answered, eyes lost at the sight of him in front of me as he hands my hairpin that I accidentally slipped off to the ground a second ago.

I fell in love at those very moments. I loved him at that very moment, and I love him up until now.

The sound of my mom calling me echoed from the kitchen to my room causing me to abruptly stand up and go to her.

"Yeah?" I answered looking at her as she make dinner. It was Sunday and I usually just stays at home reading or helping mom around the house.

"Someone's at the door!" Mom said, not bothering to look at me.

Once I was at the door, I grabbed the door knob and there I saw a figure that made my face light up, and immediately, I smiled and greeted him hi.

"I just came to give this to your mom, my mom said your mom ordered two Macha teas." He said suppressing a small-awkward smile.

"Really?" My smile was uncontrollable, it was as if my face was frozen in place, I could not control the smile that nearly reached my eyes.

"I really-- I mean Mom loves the teas Mrs. Nishimura makes!" I exclaimed a little too excited that I nearly jump, and he smiled another polite smile that made the pit of my stomach twirl.

"Fancy pork curry for dinner?" I offer as my tingling feeling of excitement filled my belly.

"Umm... my Mum just went to buy taiyaki, but yeah, I'll taste that curry," he answered, and I opened the door wider than ever while my smile reached my eyes.

"Good evening Miss L/n, Y/n invited me for dinner!" he called across the counter, and my mom gave him the sweetest welcome smile my mom could ever make, and I closed the door and get myself closer to them.

"Riki! You're here!" My mom called, brushing her hands on her apron as she extends her open arms for him and he accepted it dearly with a smile.

"Curry's for dinner!" Mom said as she approach the utensil drawers "Um Yeah, Y/n told me." he said as he quietly scanned the house familiarizing the place.

"Oh! And mom said you ordered this." He said, extending the tea powder he was holding, still has the smile he has since he came here.

"Oh yeah!" Mom said setting the plates and utensils down on the table.

"I'll help you," I told her as I took the things she was carrying, hoping to have a good image of Riki.

Dinner was fun and cosy as mom talked to Riki about rugby, schools, and girlfriends which Riki answered he does not have one; making me heave a sigh of relief.

After we ate, Riki insisted on washing the dishes, and of course, mom protested from making him, until his mom called and it was time for him to go home.

"You should see him off Y/n." Mom said winking at me and I gave her the brightest smile causing her to giggle.

"No, no! I can go by myself it's already dark it'll be dangerous for her!" Riki protested but I stood up from my chair so fast that I think I startled them both.

"I insist! It won't be such a long walk!" I said earning a sigh of defeat from him.

Me and my one year senior Riki live three blocks away from each other, they moved about a year ago from Japan because his sister wanted to pursue her dream here in Korea causing me to meet him and eventually fall in love with him.

The walk was awkward and silent, but I enjoyed it because it was a precious memory with him. This kind of late-night walk rarely happens even though we live in the same neighbourhood and study at the same Highschool, he's just hard to reach, he's very private and popular I can't seem to be noticed. Those thoughts filled my head making me unconsciously sigh.

"You shouldn't have walked me home," he said as we were nearing his house.

"No it's okay, I insisted!" I protested to reassure him, but he stopped in his tracks and turned around to face me. His expression was blank and cold, and it felt like ice run down my spine making me swallow hard.

"I don't want to walk with you. I don't want to have dinner with you. I don't like you." he said with a voice lashing so cold making me freeze in my state.

I stared at him, not blinking as my eyes widened and a lump in my throat formed. He turned his back and continued on his tracks, leaving me alone in the dark street, only a street lamp to light my sight of him getting farther away from me. I stayed for a moment, still stunned and speechless as I feel my heart, my throat going tighter and my feet gues numb, then suddenly I felt my face get wet. And then I left and walked home.

My mom asked me what happened when I got home and I told her Mrs. Nishimura said hi, and went straight to my bed.

The next morning, I got ready and went straight to school, but usually, I'd stop at the Nishimura's to ask for Riki, hoping to walk with him on the way, but every time I got there, he was already gone. Mrs Nishimura can only smile apologetically every day, but now, I've made up my mind to move on since he officially rejected me last night.

But when I walked passed his house, I heard him call my name, and for a moment I thought he had a change of mind and something familiar formed in my chest.

Then he runs towards me. My eyes stayed on his figure, I thought something was new, that something changed his mind because I never even confessed, but I won't deny that I was very obvious and desperate.

My eyes moved from his eyes to his hands as he extends the 2000 won bill he was holding.

"Your Mom's exchange," he said shortly, then he left leaving me confused and stunned with frozen feet yet again in the middle of the streets.

• • •

Three days passed, and I am slowly recovering from heartbreak, and now, Akki seat beside me in the cafeteria talking about the upcoming prom next month on Saturday.

"Aren't you coming?" she asked me, mouth still full of Spaghetti. I sighted and shake my head making her gasp.

"No way! you're not leaving me dateless alone!" she complained shaking my shoulders as she chew her lunch.

"As you said, I don't want to be dateless at the prom." I sighed watching her eat. It was the celebration of the last years in high school, and every year there's a prom.

Usually, I don't have a date, but now, I'm afraid I'll feel very lonely; and the next thing we'll know, we're already at college, and I'm not even a bit excited about that, not when I just got rejected from someone I adored so much, and probably he's at the dance studio or the rugby field getting asked out by every girl in the school. I sighed louder this time, burying my face in my arms at the table as I imagined the worst-case scenarios.

"You should just get over it and find another guy to like!" Akki said crossing her arms.

"Don't cry and mop over a guy, they don't deserve it!" She poked her spaghetti aggressively looking at me while her brows frowned, but I only answered her with a sigh. Akki is my best friend from elementary, she's the one who's with me from time to time.

"You know he's the first guy I've honestly liked so much. You know that right?" I told her as I heaved another long gloomy sigh.

Days passed without waiting at Nishimura's doorstep, without stalking him on the internet, without watching him dance at the stadium with the other girls that also liked him, without waiting for him to go home after playing rugby, without making excuses just to have a word with him, and it's all so foreign and weird to me. I wonder if he ever noticed that my presence are gone.

• • • • •

Ni-ki's Pov

"Y/n's hasn't been here since last week!" Jungwon-hyung said as we change into our uniform ready to go home from rugby practice.

"Yeah? wasn't that nice, no distraction for Niki?" Jay-hyung said as a teasing smile cross his lips earning an eye roll from me.

"She doesn't distract me Jay-hyung, and yes, I'm very glad I won't see her obvious- ridiculous annoying face. Do you even know how hard it is for me to ignore her? It seems like she's everywhere!" I said almost yelling but they just chuckled at me, and I just gave them another eye roll, hoping they'll stop teasing me with that stupid girl.

"That's a lot of description. I bet you've been imagining her smile since the day she's not around." Jake-hyung said as I adjust my shirt and slammed my locker's door loudly earning another giggle from them.

"Stop pushing it as if I like her! Cuz I don't!" I said and left the dressing room and grabbed my bag and went home.

• • •

On my way home, I saw her figure at our house's doorstep standing, and immediately, I ran to her instinct and grabbed her shoulder turning her around in front of me.

"I told you to leave me alone!" I said holding her shoulder tighter, as I look at her annoyed.

"I don't like you." My voice was quite loud and I just stared at her when she didn't respond, a second later I noticed the tears at the corner of her eyes, and she holds her hands tightly, lips trembling.

"What?" I annoyedly yelled causing her to jolt and slap my hands off of her shoulder.

"My mom said she wants another tea!" Her voice was trembling.

Then she leaned forward and punched her hand that was gripping the money in my chest then she left as tears fall from her eyes.

I stared at the money on the floor, still stunned by what happened. Then Mum opened the door, eyeing me and the money laying on the floor.

"Why are you just standing there?" She said as she crouched down to pick up the money.

"What's the commotion I was hearing? Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?" She said eyeing me from up to down.

"Your eyes are about to pop out." Mom lastly said she closed the door leaving me behind, still in confusion standing outside as I slowly process what just happened.

• • •

"Secondhand embarrassment!" Heeseung-hyung laughed across the table as we ate our lunch at the cafeteria.

I told them about what happened yesterday with the encounter with Y/n hoping to earn sympathy from them but they just laughed at me! And so, I gave them another eye roll.

"Shut up!" I said as I glance at the whole cafeteria until my gaze lastly landed on the entrance I noticed Sunoo-hyung has been looking at me teasingly as his brows move up and down.

"Who're you waiting for, that you keep on glancing at the entrance?" Sunoo hyung said and I was quick to defend myself that he was wrong, but they all laughed causing everyone inside the cafeteria to look our way.

"Our Niki's still a baby!" Sunghoon hyung said. "He's denying his crush just like his Jay hyung does," Sunghoon-hyung exclaimed laughing loudly that his small fangs are visible even though we were at the last end of the table.

"Sunghoon shut up," Jay-hyung said, and annoyance was visible on his face, so, they bicker again, and my mind drifted off to somewhere.

• • •

Weekends are nearing, and prom is also nearing, and for once, I'm at the L/n's doorstep, readying myself of pressing the doorbell, when a familiar voice startled me awake from my thoughts.

"Aren't you gonna ring it?" I looked down at her, she was at the staircase holding a paper bag filled with snacks as bitterness cross her face.

"Um.." I was about to tell her a lie but she just shove past me and opened the door.

"Aren't you gonna come inside?" Hearing her voice so cold made my spine freeze into place, and I just realised I was staring and immediately entered the warmth of their house.

"Riki!" Miss L/n's voice rang all over the house, she extended her arms like usual and I gladly took it and hugged her.

"Here's your matcha powder and your exchange," I said extending her the container and the money in my hand.

"Fancy steak?" She offered, while at the table, four plates are already prepared making me have no choice but to dine in. "Of course!" I answered.

Footsteps of two people rang as Y/n and a guy went downstairs laughing. The sight in front somewhat makes me curious about who's the guy with her, he was quite tall, but not taller than I am, and he has a Western look and dimples on both cheeks, while I frown unconsciously, not finding the view entertaining.

We all sat down when Mrs.L/n motioned us to eat, and once I sat down, Mrs.L/n bombard me with questions like usual. After questioning me about some random stuff, her attention alters to Y/'s friend who's sitting beside her.

"So you and Y/n are classmates?" Mrs.L/n questioned and the guy nodded in answer.

"Yes, and she always impresses everyone with her Arts and Music! She's very lovely when she sings!" The guy exclaimed, then his full attention shifted to Y/n, looking at her quite lovely as if he was some love-sick boy, but for some reason, he makes me irritated, how come I never knew she can sing?

"Stop it, Maki, it's not like I'm some siren who sings like what you said." Y/n irritatedly said, then this Maki guy chuckled.

Mrs. L/n laughed "She's just embarrassed Maki, she's usually sweet!" Maki nodded and smiled at Mrs L/n. His actions make me irritated, and as they talk it made me feel out of place, I wonder what's wrong with Y/n tonight, she's not usually this cold and easily irritated.

My gaze on Y/n shifted to Mrs L/n when she started talking. "Right Riki? Usually, when you show up at the door she'll eventually smile and talk enthusiastically!" Mrs L/n exclaimed.

Looking at Y/n, she has her glare on her mom then looked at me when her mom laughed at her. Suddenly I feel so shy, and awkward that I could only smile at her. But the movement made her roll her eyes at me.

"Stop with it already," I could see her reddening ears as she play with her food, and for some reason, it made me chuckle. then I caught Maki's gaze, and surely, I saw a glint of jealousy in his eyes.

It's not like there's something between Y/n and me.

And eventually, the atmosphere between Maki and me became awkward the whole dinner.

Later on, Mom called me to go home, but this time when Mrs. L/n asked Y/n to send me home, she looked at me for a second then made her way up the stairs and Maki followed her next. But mysteriously, there's a lump formed in my throat as I watch her walk away. I was quick to swallow what was blocking my throat when Mrs L/n apologizes for her daughter's behaviour.

"She's not usually like that, did something happen at school?" Mrs L/n asked worrying, but all I could do was swallow hard, knowing I might be the reason.

"I'm afraid I don't Mrs.L/n."

Once I went home, the things that happened at dinner earlier rewound in my thoughts as I feel weird inside. I wonder why I'm feeling this way.

• • •

I was walking down the quiet hallway when I heard two people talking, it seems like a guy and a girl. I was about to ignore it and avoid eavesdropping when I heard their familiar voices.

Wasting no more seconds, I turned around and turn around the corner and saw Y/n, her face was sour- or maybe surprised. But the person was facing his back on me, I could not see his face.

"I mean..." The other guy started, "You don't have to say yes now, but please consider my offer?" The guy's voice was familiar, and I suspect that he could be Maki last night at dinner.

I saw Y/n smile at him, and then she gently held his hands, I didn't know why, or what happened. But the longer I stand there, the feeling of nausea increases in the pit of my stomach as I absent-mindedly clench my jaw.

I took one last look before turning around and making my way back to my classroom, forgetting the reason I was outside.

The cushion of my bed envelopes me as I shift and turn feeling the misery of what I heard earlier from Y/n and the guy with her in the hallway, then there's this thing I did out of impulse by asking someone I completely don't know to go to the prom with me...

I fucked up.

I don't even know her name, I didn't give her my contact nor do I have hers. I completely acted through emotions, and all I can do about it is stare at my room's ceiling.

• • •

Me, Jake-hyung, and the others look through trousers, vests, coats, ties and shoes to wear at the upcoming prom tomorrow. Other students also shop here.

I wonder if Y/n will also buy her dress here...

"I don't care where she'll buy though..." I frowned as I shuffle through the coats in front of me.

"What are you mumbling about?" Jake-hyung whispers close to my ear making me jump a little.

"None of your business." I shortly answered as I continue picking coats. Jake-hyung chuckled as an answer, not long after, he looks at me in the eye seriously, placing a hand on my left shoulder, making me stare at him in confusion.

"You shouldn't do things you'll regret Niki, sometimes you didn't know the things that you've always wanted are already in your palms, but if you accidentally let go, you might never have the power to bring it back anymore even if you try."

His words left me at gaze, the only thing I could reply to him was a nod.

• • •

And then as fast as light, the prom that everyone has been waiting for came.

Dancing lights are everywhere, blinding me as I search through the crowds. I was a little confused as to whom am I searching for, really? Was it the girl I asked out...or was it Y/n all along?

I stand still in the middle of the crowds, observing, wondering, and making conclusions, frozen in my steps. And my eyes could not focus on one thing but the entrance door.

I feel like there was a big lump in my throat, there's this feeling of longing while my breath speeds up as I feel my heart skip a beat.

Do I like her?

The thoughts made my insides weird, as if a hurricane is inside of my stomach, making me nauseous, these feelings whenever I think of her, this nervousness, wondering if she'll come, and the fear that she'll not...

I do like her.

But what will I do? Does she want to see me? She liked me before...

"Is it too late?" I looked up at the ceiling and heaved a sigh, feeling defeated as I feel my hot breath touch my lips.

"No, it's not." I suddenly jolted.

Turning around, I saw a girl that's quite familiar, I scanned her, squinting my eyes, looking at her carefully, until my eyes lit up.

"You're Y/n friend!" I said as my voice mixed with the loud music around us.

"She's at her house! You can dance with her later when the event started on time if you go there now!" She said through the music at the back, muffling her voice. Not even a second, she's already walking away mixing with the crowds.

My heart smashes in my chest louder than the music in the background. I ran through the crowds as I feel my lips curl up, I bump into other people, but I mind them not, I interrupted the ones who tried to talk to me, but I never stopped on my steps as I near the exit, because I've made my decision.

I won't let her go now.

Huffling my breath as I run through the parking lot, looking for the car I borrowed from my father, shuffling my pockets looking for the keys as my hand shake from the things I've been feeling, I wasted no second and rode the streets making my way.

As I near the neighbourhood I've been through and walked through countless times, my heart could not stop skipping a beat, I'm at the point I think I'll die, and the watch on my right arm seems so loud in my ears.

Before I could even step out of the car, the door swung wide open, and there I saw her in her messy hair, she has her eyes wide open as she huff deep breaths.

"Come with me." My voice came out, it was trembling with my fingers and then I swallowed hard and stared at her wide eyes and slightly agape mouth, then her lips slowly curled up. And I might be mistaken but, I think she just stared at me lovingly, like she always does with those familiar passionate eyes, and I just know that those stares are only for me.

Y/n turned her back and run upstairs, thirty minutes later, I saw her in a light yellow dress just below her knee, and she wear silver slippers, and her hair was in braids in a high bun.

I sigh looking at her, I had never paid attention before, but now I could say that she was the prettiest girl I'd laid my eyes on.

My heart feels like swelling from joy, excitement and anxiety are all mixed. Then she walked down the staircase, and when she was closer she halted a stop, I can feel her hot breath and it smells minty, and not even a minute I was already captivated.

• • • • •

Y/n's Pov

When I walked closer to him, joy and many other emotions were playing in my stomach, then I felt his hot breath touch my cheeks. I thought I might explode, he looks like a prince out of a fairytale.

I sighed, studying him, looking at his black orbs carefully, and it seems like they glisten beneath the dark sky.

"I'll come with you," I whispered just enough for him to hear and drag me in the passenger seat.

The ride was silent, while my cheeks burn and my insides twirled, then not long, heavy droplets touched the windows, and the car stopped.

I stayed silent waiting for him to say something, and then he runs his hands through his black hair and looked at me.

Everything seems to fade at the back when he held my hands.

"Would you like to dance with me?" His voice came out like a whisper, his hopeful eyes warms me up as I hear the small droplets of rain in the back of my mind while I hear the mixture of our silent breathing. I swallowed hard staring at him.

"On the storm?"

"On the storm." He quietly answered. Slowly his lips curved up, then the next thing I knew he was outside in the middle of the rain, running to my side and opening the door then not even a second, he dragged me to the pavement holding my hand as the loud rain drops filled both of our ears, then his warm hands held me by the waist pulling me closer and his body was against mine.

He stared deeply at my eyes until his warm lips captivated mine.

It was slow and warm, it was like a dream and I held him tightly, it lasted for minutes, and then he broke the kiss and held my left hand guiding me for a dance.

The dance was slow, I couldn't help but laugh and look at him again when I heard him giggle and my cheeks and ears burn even though we were all wet from the rain.

"I love you since a year ago..." A sigh silently left my lips.

"Up until now I still do, very, very much," I said hoping he'd hear my voice through the rain. I stayed my gaze on the pavement, and couldn't look at him, fearing I might cry.

Then I feel he let my arm go and held my chin making me catch his eyes. Then he advanced closer and hugged me tight.

"I'm sorry for not realising it early, but please, allow me to love you..." His silent trembling voice and the raindrops are the only things I can hear, and as I hear him, the words that left his mouth felt like a thousand emotions linger through.

"I love you Y/n..." His breath was warm in my ears as I heard him whisper slowly, and the beating of our hearts made harmony together with the rain, and surely the best dress I wear tonight was made to be danced in the middle of the storm, and the things all I could feel was the fearless love and longing for the guy in front of me.

I love you more Nishimura Riki.

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