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pookietv · 4 months

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a secret | arthurtv

a request!! fluffy arthurtv having a crush on a singer that arthur hill knows!!

you weren't really sure how the last few months had played out: you had gone from a tiny artist doing covers and the occasional original song on your smaller youtube channel, to being thrust into a welcoming community with a viral video.

it was surreal, you thought, and you were convinced the support and exposure you had experienced couldn't get any better, you had been able to quit your job, and do what you loved.

that is, until you received an email, inviting you to be an opening act on a tour for arthur hill at his london shows. you had seen him on tiktok, heard some of his songs and seen some of his youtube videos, and he did look cool.

so it was an easy yes, you already lived in london, you wouldn't need to travel, the only thing you needed to do was get used to performing on stage.

so you began doing small shows in dive bars, mainly on friday nights filled with drunk people who paid little attention anyways, so you could mess up all you liked, so it became routine.

performing as normal, in the abnormally warm room, the lights slightly pinkish in the cramped bar, it was unusual to hear your name from the crowd, so when you heard a slight gasp and a "wait, you're right, it is y/n," your head did turn slightly, but with the large crowd talking between eachother, drinks in everyones hands in a sea of people, you couldn't make out anyone in particular.

once you had come off the make-shift stage area, placing your guitar neatly in it's case, you felt a slight tap on your shoulder, turning your head to be met by arthur, a smile on his face.

"y/n! didn't know you came here," he said happily, looking at you expectantly.

"oh! hi arthur, yeah, just trying to get used to performing more, so i do a couple shows a week, what about you, what are you up to?" you said nicely, giving him a small smile in return, looking around the room slightly.

"oh, i'm just here with some of my friends, it's kinda close to our apartments so we figured we'd come just to see what it was like," he paused, turning around to point to three boys stood near the bar, "come over, i'll introduce you, they'll no doubt be at the show so you'll probably see them there too," he nodded over to them, and you followed him, with him chatting away about how excited for the show he was.

"so this is y/n! this is george, chris, and arthur, two of us so a little confusing," arthur hill grinned a little as he pointed to each one in succession.

"it's nice to meet you all! i've seen you a little in videos," you smiled towards them, looking slightly at the other arthur, who was timidly holding a pint of beer and looking at me with a mildly awkward smile.

"its nice to meet you in person! i feel like your songs are always playing in our flat between the two arthurs, it's all they bloody queue," chris smiled, and you giggled a little.

you shrugged with a small grin, "well, i am sorry if you're a little sick of my voice then," you joked, and george shrugged it off with a casual, "no, no, it sounds good!"

"i think arthur got me into your music more than anyone else," arthur hill said nonchalantly.

"oh?" you turned my head towards the other arthur, curiously, looking at him for a moment, and observing how nicely the shade of green of his jumper looked on him, whilst arthur hill began sharing some story with george and chris.

"oh, um, yeah! watched you on youtube for a while, even when you were just, like, doing covers," he smiled broadly.

"oh, that's really cool! i feel like not a lot of people knew me when i was doing covers," you said softly, and he just shrugged a little.

"were you going to stay for a drink?" arthur asked, and it became your turn to shrug. he was quite nice to look at, and that prospect made you slightly nervous.

"i mean, i wasn't planning on it, but i suppose a drink could do me some good," you giggled, and he nodded.

"i'll get you a drink, what do you drink?" he asked, and you tilted your head a little.

"oh, no, you don't have to get me one! i can get one, honestly," you said, but he shook his head with a genial look on his face, a knowing smile on his face making his eyes crinkle slightly.

"no, no, it's fine, please let me get you one?" he said, already sauntering his way to the bar as you followed a few paces behind him.

"okay, well, um, thank you..! i drink anything really, i'll just have whatever you're having," you smiled, and he nodded, ordering two pints of beer.

once the bartender had poured the drinks, you and arthur kept chatting whilst walking back to the rest of the group, who were still in discussion, and arthur seemed to pay it no notice, still speaking to you.

"i do really love your covers, by the way... you're easily one of my favourite singers," he spoke, and a small spread of blush graced your cheeks.

"that's really sweet of you, thank you," you murmured, a little shy before taking a sip of your drink and looking up to him, "so, you do youtube as well right? what kinds of videos?"

"oh, i dabble in a little of everything, in all honesty - i mainly do commentary on like reality tv, so things like ninety day fiance, if you know that? but i do a lot with others, too, reaction content, stuff like that," he explained, and you nodded along, smiling as he spoke about it.

"that seems really cool! i always thought i would love to vlog maybe, if my life got more interesting, y'know?" you joked with a slight giggle, "i don't really do much at the moment, i mean i sing, i write songs, i read a little... not too much, pretty boring."

arthur grinned a little and shook his head, "i don't think you're boring, i think you could definitely make interesting content in that sense,"

"i mean maybe, i don't know, maybe if i ever toured or something, that would be a cool thing to vlog," you looked up for a moment, as if you were rolling the idea around your head. "anyway, i should probably go soon, even though i'd love to stay and chat longer, but i gotta catch the last tube home," you nodded to him as your glass was finally empty, giving him a small apologetic smile.

"its no worries! i suppose i'll see you next saturday, right?" he asked - the day of the concert, and you nodded.

"yeah, of course!" you beamed, and turned to arthur hill and tapped his shoulder slightly, "sorry to interrupt the conversation! i was just gonna say bye, gotta catch the last tube home, but it was lovely to meet you all, and hopefully i'll see you on saturday?" you looked between the boys with a smile, and they nodded, all saying their goodbyes, and giving them slight hugs.

as you left, guitar case on your back and giving them a wave, before opening the door, george turned to arthur and grinned, "so, how's the not so secret youtube crush?" he teased, and arthur's face went red.

"yeah, we figured we'd leave you to it, seemed like you were in the zone," arthur hill chimed in and chris laughed at arthur's eyes rolling.

"she's... just very nice, that's all!" he poorly defended himself.

when saturday had rolled around, you were nervous, without sugarcoating anything.

luckily, you had nothing to be nervous about - your opening went great, the crowd was lovely, and the second your set was over, the rush of adrenaline was palpable as you came off stage, and couldn't hold back a toothy smile, wishing arthur hill good luck before he went on.

you watched eagerly from backstage, wanting to cool down a little and not wanting to jump straight into the crowd.

"you did great," you heard from behind you, and turned to see arthur.

"oh! thank you, i'm so glad i didn't flop or anything," you joked a little, giving him a small smile.

"you looked really good too, really, y'know, pretty," he grinned, "overall, a great performance,"

your cheeks turned slightly red at that compliment, shyly nodding a little as he laughed a little at you, though it was endearingly.

"can i trust you with a secret?" he smirked a little, and you tilted your head slightly.

"and what makes you want to tell me a secret?" you giggled back.

"'cause i reckon you can keep my secret," he retorted, "i've sort of had a fanboy crush on you for a while, y'know, from watching your youtube. you're as nice off camera as you are on." he smiled a little awkwardly, turning to look at you for a moment.

your eyes widened a little, your cheeks only burning more as he grinned at you still.

"oh? well, um, y'know... you're also, quite attractive," you practically babbled out, giggling a little nervously and he nodded in return. "nice eyes, and stuff,"

he laughed a little at your awkward attempt, and you rolled your eyes at him as he grinned, `"and stuff?" he teased, and you pushed his shoulder slightly.

"oh, shut up, you,"

#arthur frederick x reader #arthur frederick #arthurtv x reader #arthurtv

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villainscharm · 30 days

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stalled | modern! aemond targaryen x reader

pov : you’re stuck in the elevator at the office with aemond aka your boss who you never talked to.

words count : 1.3k

contents : fluff (?) i don’t feel like there is any romance going on here, maybe the beginning of something ig??? but this is just a short sooooo

modern au. targaryen company theme plot. aemond is your boss but he never speak to you because he’s a dick.

MASTERLIST

He was terrifying — Aemond Targaryen was inevitably terrifying.

His presence, his demeanor, the atmosphere in the room shifted every time he entered.

And now you were stuck with him in this forsaken elevator.

It was a normal morning, you came to your work, scanned your finger and was sent to your task of the day. You’ve been working at the Targaryen company for six months now after graduating from the university, in the creative marketing team. Your work had been fine with many friendly and supportive colleagues in your department, including the CEO’s second daughter, Helaena Targaryen, as well.

Today one of your colleagues who took a sick leave called you and asked for a favor about paperwork. She already finished them but due to her stomach issues, she couldn’t come in to submit her work in time, so she emailed you the file to print and submit for her instead, which you kindly helped out. It was a report on the latest month's sale, so you were supposed to submit them at the office six floors above yours, the 22nd floor. Carrying the documents, you stood in the elevator, listening to the light music playing in the background and mindfully counting the pages in your hands for accuracy.

The gentle ding sound of the elevator alerted you to look up — nineteenth floor — before the door opened, you stepped aside making rooms for the person who was coming in. And then the air got cold.

The door opened, presenting the tall silver-haired man as he entered — Aemond Targaryen, the fourth child of the CEO Viserys Targaryen and his second wife, Alicent Hightower, who worked in human resources.

He was your director in creative marketing.

Also a dickhead.

“Mister Targaryen,” you greeted politely with a smile, which he ignored. You were tempted not to pull out your phone and complain about it to your secret social media account— not that you haven’t done it before. You took a quick glance at him, he was on his phone with his one-eye facing to your side, easier for you to study him closely for the first time. You met Aemond only a couple of times, first was at your job interview, he didn’t interview you though, only popping in to chat with his mother in the room. Miss Alicent tried to introduce you to him but he paid no mind and left, leaving you feeling awkward and self-conscious. The second time was in the meeting of the upcoming project, he was present but didn’t talk to anyone, well, if you count saying ‘hmm’ and ‘no’ as talking then it was.

Aemond was only a few years older than you, but you swore he acted like a forty year old man at work. The way he spoke, the way he sat — no wonder everyone feared him more than his older brother Aegon. Out of everyone in this family, Aemond seemed to be absent most times. His sister, Helaena once told you that he preferred working from home than being in the office. ‘He doesn’t like people very much. What’s it called again, antisocial?’

Sociopath, more like.

But when he was present, he often wore a casual outfit instead of suit and uniform, with an eyepatch covering his one-eye, of course. It was a known lore of how Aemond lost his eye, an accident during a family vacation, news spread all over the media.

Though missing one eye, Aemond remained devilishly handsome.

You inhaled, only three floors to go. Your eyes glued to the tiny monitor showing the number of each floor as it went on, as if staring at it intensely would help the elevator move faster.

and… THUD!

“Shit!” you cursed as the elevator suddenly stopped in its place, making your body lose its balance and stumble backward, almost hitting the wall. You look at the tiny monitor, it stopped at 21, but your guts told you that they were in between 22 as well.

You glanced at Aemond, who seemed to be startled as well, but remained calmly anyway. Hugging your documents tightly to your chest, your finger reached forward to press the button to open the door but nothing happened.

You pressed them again, and again still nothing.

“It’s not gonna open,” it was Aemond who spoke first, his voice was stern and calm, way too calm that it was making you panic, it was also the first time you heard him speak. You looked at him confused before he flipped his phone to your sight. You squinted your eyes looking at the screen, it was a message from the security service, informing them of the issue coming from the control panel, causing the elevator to stalled.

You sighed, leaning your back against the wall, thankfully the light didn’t go off, that would be a nightmare. “How long is it gonna be like this?” you asked, taking a quick glance at the watch on your wrist. Aemond hummed before replied, “Uncertain, should be some time. Hopefully not too long.”

You didn’t try to hide the eye roll as you groaned, at this point you shouldn’t care. Aemond then reached his hand forward, pressing the emergency button to alarm the people in the control room. The air was thick and filled with awkwardness, until Aemond broke the silence again.

“You look stressed,” he remarked. Of course you were stressed, your colleague asked you to help her out and now you were stuck in the elevator submitting her work late. “I have documents to submit in time. Obviously not gonna happen,” you replied, avoiding his eye contact.

“Applications?” he guessed, eyeing the documents in her hands. You turned your head to him instantly, blinking in disbelief, but when you realized how rude it must’ve looked, you played it out with a forced chuckle.

“I've been here for six months,” offense hid in your tone, your brows knitting together. Purposely leaving the part where you were supposed to address him as Mister Targaryen or sir.

Aemond hummed, “Receptionist?” wrong answer bastard.

“Creative marketing, your department,” What a dick. Forcing a smile, your blunt answer with the emphasis on the word ‘your’ made him raise an eyebrow in response. “Sir,” you finished, a poor attempt.

“But that’s the sales report,” Aemond noticed, he could see the heading of the documents in your arms clearly as he stood tall next to you. Though not too close, you could still smell his expensive cologne. Yves Saint Laurent — you guessed, he didn’t seem like a Calvin Klein type of guy, maybe Dior Sauvage? but who wasn’t a Dior Sauvage type of guy anyway.

“Floris took a sick leave. I’m just helping her out,” you offered him a softer tone this time, trying to gain some appreciation from him. But to your disappointment, the bastard hummed.

“I also work with Helaena, your sister. She’s excellent,” you tried to break the awkwardness, nothing a little small talk couldn’t fix. “Yes, she is,” not even a small talk could fix him, you couldn’t wait to get out of here. But to your surprise, Aemond added, “She mentioned you before. You came up with the campaign for the last month project,” it wasn’t a question but a fact, because Aemond knew. His tone was softer and approved. You thought he had no idea you existed but apparently you were wrong.

“Yes, I’m glad it helped to increase the sales,” you suppressed your smile, feeling proud and appreciated from the way Aemond addressed you. He hummed again, this time instead of infuriated, you felt your cheeks burned.

You two spent the next ten minutes standing in the elevator in silence before it eventually moved again, finally stopping at the 22nd floor. You sighed with relief because you were certain you would get claustrophobic if stood in there any longer. You stepped out finally, but before the elevator door closed, you heard Aemond called out your name from behind.

“I’ll see you later at the office.”

#villainscharm’s fic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon #modern!aemond

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cwritesforfun · 20 days

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Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x Fem!Reader: Your Dad's Biggest Fan (Request)

Ginger = Your Name L/N = Your Last Name *** I do not own any of the Bear characters or plot***

Masterlist

Your POV - The Meet Cute

You write lifestyle reviews for Chicago in the Chicago Times and you often get to visit really cool events in the city that you love. You get to attend music festivals, visit new hotels, and just enjoy the city for pay. However, your favorite part is getting to try different kinds of cuisine in the city and you love to shout out places that you truly enjoy visiting because they all deserve success for their hard work. You've always enjoyed food and writing, so this felt like the perfect job for you.

Your father is an amazing cook with restaurants and Michelin stars to prove it. You're used to people using that information against you or for their personal benefit, so you stopped telling people about him. You even started going by your mother's maiden name, so nobody connected you to your father. Your work knows who your father is and you host the annual holiday party at one of his restaurants, which is fine to mix work and family once a year. Your friends like your father, but they don't use you to get to him, which is nice to have people who truly care about you. It's why you find it hard to date because people seek to use you at every turn.

Your work brings you joy and you love doing it. So getting an email from one of the chefs asking you to meet at their restaurant to talk terrifies you. You went to the Bear, a new restaurant that had once been a sandwich shop called the Beef. Your father liked their sandwiches and would often get them when he was on that side of Chicago. The Bear had just opened with a new menu and they hosted a press night where reviewers in the city came to discover more about the restaurant. You were sent by your newspaper company. You met up with other reviewers that were attending the event and you had a blast. The staff was courteous and kind, they also knew what you needed before you needed it. The food was hot and tasty and melted in your mouth. The bathrooms and space were clean. The wine selection matched perfectly with the meal. The Head Chef, Carmen Berzatto even came out of the kitchen to thank everyone. He was young and cute, and he seemed passionate about his place. You commended the event as one of your favorites and talked up the staff in your article. You even mentioned going to the Beef before it became the Bear. You showed your support, so you were confused about why you were being invited back for a chat. It worried you.

You get off the metro train and make your way over to the Bear. You show up outside and notice they're not even open. This makes you even more confused. You open the front door, step in, and see the staff all sitting at the tables eating lunch from what it looks like. They all turn to face you and you exclaim, 'Hi, I'm Ginger from the Chicago Times. I was told to meet Chef Carmen Berzatto here for a meeting now." The guy you recognize as the chef, Carmen Berzatto, looks up and says, "Oh wow you're on time." You reply, "Yes sir, I recognize that we all have a lot going on, so being punctual is always something I strive for. I usually am 10 minutes early to events, but the metro here was packed." A girl sitting at the table says, "I get that, I hate the metro. My name is Sydney. Nice to meet you, Ginger." You reply, "Nice to meet you, Sydney." You see a man near Camen Berzatto ask, "What made you get into reviews? Oh, and I'm Richie." You answer, "Hi Richie. Well I love writing and I love food, so I wanted to combine them for my job. My mom has always told me to work hard to succeed and that's what I did. Chicago Times liked some of my pieces for college and I started as an intern before I became the full-time lifestyle reviewer I am today. It's great." Richie asks, "And you've been to the Bear before opening?" You answer, "My father used to take me here growing up when I was a kid. And whenever I was on this side of town after college, I always returned to the Beef. You all were always packed and everyone was always friendly." Carmen Berzatto asks, "So you weren't lying in your article, that was all real?" You answer, "Yes sir. I am always completely open and honest about my experiences even if they're being paid for by the company. I never want to lie to readers or companies about what I feel." Carmen Berzatto replies, "Your article helped us a lot after you visited. People kept coming in mentioning the Chicago Times article and your support for us. We just wanted to see if you would sign some copies for us to keep." OH MY GOSH!!! Why am I going to cry?!?! You reply, "Oh my! I would be so happy too. That makes me so happy. I truly think you all deserve so much success. You can tell each of you has worked so hard to get to this point and you're all passionate about food. I am a happy supporter of The Bear." You sign copies of the newspaper, get a slice of cake to go, and you say goodbye to the staff. They encourage you to come back and they will push everyone out of the way to serve you, which you thank them for.

As you leave, you start walking down the street until you hear your name. You turn and see Carmen Berzatto running after you. You start walking back towards him and he stops running. You ask, "What's up?" He answers, "I just regret not telling you this one-on-one. I really did appreciate what you said and how you mentioned that I seemed so passionate even just from my small speech to everyone. It was nice to see that people could tell from one moment and it made me feel hopeful." You reply, "No problem, Carmen Berzatto. I can tell you'll do great things with the Bear." He smiles and says, "Please call me Carmy." You reply, "Ok then thank you Carmy." He smiles even wider and says, "I don't normally do this, but you seem so bright and happy. I just think if I don't ask then I'll never see you again and I want to see you again, so would you want to go out on a date?" You answer, "Sure. I'd love to. You already have my number, so just text me. I know you have a crazy schedule and I'm pretty open this month, so let me know when you want to go out." He nods and says, "Ok I will. You got it. Well, have a great rest of your day." You reply, "You too, Carmy."

That was the start of your relationship with Carmy.

Your POV - Telling Your Dad

You smile as Carmy texts you during your family dinner and your father asks, "Ginger, what are you smiling about? Surely it's the roast and potatoes, right? Or is there something you want to tell us?" Your father was honest like you, so there was no way to hide this any longer than you have been. You answer, "I have a boyfriend and we've been dating for 6 months. He is taking a 15-minute break at work right now, so he was texting me. He's a chef and his name is Carmy. He used to work at the Beef, but now it's the Bear." Your father says, "No way, I loved the Beef. I'd love to go sometime to the new restaurant, can you ask for his availability on Wednesdays? I'm always off on Wednesdays and you, your mom, and I can go eat there one day or night. It doesn't have to be next week, but by the end of the month would be cool. I'd love to meet your boyfriend." You reply, "Sure Dad. I can ask." He replies, "Good good. Now tell me more about him and his food." You laugh and talk with your family.

Your POV - Telling Your Boyfriend

You did the nice thing and told your boyfriend about your family wanting to eat at his restaurant on a Wednesday day or night. Carmy was excited and he was able to find a table 2 weeks after that you could sit at for a lunch service. Carmy even told you that lunches are calmer, so he could stop by for his break to talk to your family. Richie would be working as your server, which you liked because Richie could talk and your father loved to ask questions.

It's one week away and Carmy is cooking you both dinner. He always takes off at least one night a week to have a normal night with you and you love it. It's always nice and his food is amazing.

After dinner, you turn on the TV and it's your dad's cooking show. Carmy hands you a glass of wine and your box of cookies before you ask, "How do you feel about cooking shows?" Carmy sits next to you on the couch and answers, "You know how I feel about them. They're just ways for chefs to promote themselves and their businesses, which is nice. But usually, they do it because you get paid a lot. Why?" You answer, "Oh uh well Chef L/N's cooking show was on. I just wondered how you felt about his show." He replies, "I admire the he** out of him. He's inspirational. The way he compliments each drink from appetizer to dinner to dessert on his menu is next-level genius. His staff are also brilliant at transforming the guest experience. I want the Bear to have that level of success. And..." Carmy then goes on a whole monologue about your father and how he loves him. You smile and say, "Ok well let's just say he is my dad and you're meeting him next week. He'd probably love to hear that from you." Carmy gasps and asks, "What are you talking about?" You answer, "I don't ever tell people about my dad because they use me... but you're meeting him next week and I think you should know who he is before then. The last name I've been using for the last 6 months is my mother's maiden name." He replies, "Holy sh**!!! And he's going to be at my restaurant next week! He's been to the Beef several times." You reply, "Oh don't bring that up. He misses the Beef like crazy." He laughs and replies, "Okay. Wow, let's not watch his cooking show right now. I think I'll go crazy." You laugh and turn on a movie.

NEXT WEEK ~ YOUR POV

You spent the night with Carmy and at 5 am as he is getting ready, you hand him your coffee and exclaim, "I'll see you at noon baby." He gasps and says, "Oh sh** I am cooking for my idol today. I need my lucky knife and my lucky shirt." He then starts running around frantically and you rub your eyes. Is he freaking out? Is it too early for this? You are tired. You move in front of Carmy as he walks and you place your hands on either side of his arms. You say, "Please, don't freak out. Treat today like a normal day. Be calm and you've got this. My father is just a normal human at the end of the day. Remember that." He replies, "Yeah yeah. I'm going to tell my staff beforehand because this is big." You reply, "Okay. Well, goodbye and good luck." You send him out with a kiss on his lips.

Hours later, you show up at your house and are driving to the Bear with your parents. You park nearby and walk to the restaurant.

As you walk there, you ask, "Hey Dad, can I tell you something?" Your father answers, "What's up sweetie?" You answer, "Carmy is a huge fan of yours and nearly freaked out this morning. He was calm when I first told him, but today was bad. He couldn't find his lucky shirt and he said his lucky knife was at work. I just want you to go easy on him because I really care about him." Your father replies, "No problem, sweetheart."

You arrive and Neil Fak greets you happily. He shows you to the table and Richie immediately pops up. Richie's jaw drops a little at seeing my father, but he quickly recovers. Richie introduces the Bear and the menu then leaves to get the wine my father chose.

My father exclaims, "I like this place. The people are friendly." My mother adds, "And their service is fast." You reply, "Carmy told them that Dad was going to be here. I think they're all nervous and excited." My mother replies, "I bet they are. Poor things. We should invite them over. Are they ever closed?" You answer, "Mondays. They sometimes are unloading and restocking stock though, so they go in for half the day. You should ask Carmy for the specifics." Your father replies, "Oh I have a few things to ask ole Carmy boy now." You reply sternly, "Dad." He replies, "Ok fine. It's nothing bad. Don't worry."

Richie returns and you're all served. You three eat up the food and it's delicious as always. Dessert shows up and you notice Carmy walking your way. You notice his hands are a little shaky and you stand up. You hug him as soon as he reaches you and he presses a kiss to your cheek before you whisper, "He's just a person. It's all fine." You kiss his lips gently before introducing him to your parents. He slides into the seat next to you as you three talk over dessert. Conversation flows and is going well.

My father asks, "So, I hear you really like my daughter and she really likes you." Carmy smiles and says, "Yes sir. I really like your daughter." My father asks, "And what are your intentions with her?" Carmy answers, "Well sir... uh... I really like her and I'm falling in love with her. She's always supportive and kind. She lights up every room she walks in and people like her. I find her to be the person in my life that I look to for cheering up. I also think I cheer her up. You'd have to ask her though. I just think she's the most perfect and amazing that a person can be... and she has you as her father. Sir, I've looked up to you for a while. I think your work ethic and your drive set you apart from other chefs. Your show doesn't feel like a money grab and it's clear to me you love your family, which is great." My father smiles and says, "Well I appreciate it, son. Now do you think your staff would be free on Monday afternoon? Ginger says you have to unload stock, but I assume you get hungry doing all that heavy lifting. I'd love to treat your staff to some lunch at mine." Carmy replies, "Sure sir. That sounds amazing. We're usually done by 2 pm, but then we'll have to drive there. I'm not sure how long it takes, but I'm sure no later than 3:00 is fine for us." My mother replies, "Great, we cannot wait to host. We'll have Ginger give you the address and times. You can give her the number of staff that will show up, so we can plan accordingly." Carmy nods and my father asks, "Can I say thank you to your staff? I noticed they kept trying to get a glimpse of me from the kitchen. I just want to thank them and you. I really did have a lovely time this afternoon and would love to come again." Carmy answers, "Yeah haha they'd really love to hear it. I better get back to work. I'll see you all soon then." He kisses you, hugs your parents, and goes back to the kitchen.

Your father goes in after him and you watch through the window at your father giving some big speech. You see the smiles on everyone's faces and you're happy for them all. You notice your father pat Carmy on the back and you laugh. Carmy is going to freak out. HAHA!

NEXT WEEK on Monday ~ YOUR POV

You had asked for a half day at work and you were still at work at 2:00 pm in a meeting. It finished, you quickly packed up, sent your last emails, and dashed to the metro. You hopped on and went to your family home.

As you walk your way down your street, you see cars parked out front of your house. I guess everyone from the Bear is already there. Hopefully, your father has kept the questioning Carmy to a minimum. Carmy told you last week that it was so exciting to have him there and meet my family. He also said his staff couldn't stop talking about the meal at your parent's place.

You knock and your mother opens it. She pulls you into a hug and says, "Oh hi sweetie. I thought you would be here earlier." You reply, "I tried to leave, Mom. But I didn't want to leave in the middle of the meeting." She replies, "You're just like your father... Speaking of, your boyfriend has been helping him this afternoon and they seem to be getting along. You should grab him and get him to eat. He's only been eating little snacks with your father." You laugh and say, "Ok Mom." She replies, "You look lovely sweetie. You in business casual make us all look lame." You laugh and say, "I was actually going to change up in my room real quick before I say hi to people." She nods and she lets you go. You finish changing in your bathroom and jump when you see Carmy in your bedroom looking around. You exclaim, "Hey Carmy. What are you doing up here?" He sees you and smiles. You kiss him and he answers, "Your mom said you had to talk to me. You were in the bathroom, so I just waited out here." You reply, "My mom thinks you've been working too hard today. She said you started helping him when you got here and she wanted you to have lunch. She wanted you to see me so she knew you were being looked after. It's a mom thing." He replies, "Oh that's really sweet of her. I can take a break and eat with my lovely girlfriend." You reply, "I almost thought you said eat your lovely girlfriend." He gasps and replies, "Babe, we're at your family home. Oh speaking of it, your mom did show your baby album to everyone. Everyone loved it. You were so cute." You reply, "We're making a pit stop to talk to my mom first then we can eat." He laughs then follows you.

You make a plate of food and find space on a couch next to Sydney. Carmy slides next to you and puts an arm around your waist. Everyone starts asking you about your baby photos. Oh gosh... this is great. Richie seems to like this one where you resemble a gremlin and everyone suddenly thinks you need bangs again.

Your father pulls a chair up and so does your mom. Everyone talks, laughs, and enjoys the day.

Masterlist

#carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #fanfic #the bear imagine #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear #the bear carmy #carmy bear #carm #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months

Note

WIBTA for blocking my suicidal friend?

TW for suicidal ideation, mental health.I know this sounds bad but hear me out.

I (25F/NB) met F(26M) in January 2017, a few months after I started university through a mutual friend, and we quickly hit it off. We started dating a few months later. We split near the end of 2021, but aside from a few awkward months right after the split, we've stayed friends. We've both seriously dated other people: F had a girlfriend, A(mid-20s F), for a little under a year, and I've been dating my boyfriend, H (30M), for about 9 months.

Throughout the time we were dating, F and I had a few problems. Money was a big one: he would borrow money a lot and not always pay it back (either when he said he would or at all). He currently owes me about £8000 that he borrowed for uni. For most of the time since he borrowed it he hasn't been in work, so I haven't been pushing the matter. One of the last straws for our relationship was when he bought a brand new PS5 and lied to me about it when he had recently borrowed money from me.

The other big one was his mental health. F has been dealing with poor mental health for about as long as I've known him, but he refuses to do anything about it. He often talks about how much he hates his life and how he should just kill himself. He often punched himself in the head or punched walls when he was upset, but he refused to admit that this behaviour was unhealthy. He wouldn't go see a therapist or doctor, or speak to anyone except me. Once, when I was visiting family, he became upset about something and I was worried he would hurt himself, so I asked a mutual friend to check on him. He refused to let the friend in, and got very angry with me.I wanted to break up with him sooner but he'd often tell me I was the only good thing in his life, and I was scared he'd kill himself if I left him. We eventually broke up near the end of 2021. Fast forward to this summer. In August, A broke up with F and F had to move back in with his abusive parents. He initially asked to stay with me but I said no (I live in a tiny flat, I can't afford to financially support another person and to be honest I'm just not comfortable with it). I later changed my mind and offered him my sofa when I realised how bad the abuse was, but he declined.

Also in August, I found out my grandmother was dying. I went to see her with my sister and brother-in-law, and the same day received a message from F venting about his life. I replied with: "Hey I'm kind of dealing with something right now can you talk to someone else? I don't really have the emotional bandwidth rn"When he asked what was up, I told him my grandmother was dying. He expressed his sympathies, and told me that his stuff could wait. He sent me the following message four hours later: "I think I'm going to kill myself""I've totally ruined my life, I've got nothing except daily torture from my parents". Again, this is four hours after I'd explicitly told him I don't have the capacity for it. I spoke to my sister and brother-in-law (28F and 30M) about it and they both said I should block him.

In September I started a new job (I recently qualified as a teacher) which has been very challenging, exhausting and intense. My grandmother died at the end of September, so the past few months have been hard for me. He knows all this, but he keeps sending me all these messages about how much he hates his life and how he should just kill himself.

Early October, I was added to a group chat between A, F's ex, and a mutual friend Z. A told us that F had sent her an email that was essentially a suicide note. I called F and made sure he was okay, and passed that along to the group chat. F was angry that, as he perceived it, we'd been talking about him behind his back. He didn't speak to me for a day or so but quickly went back to normal.

At the end of October, the day before my grandmother's funeral, I woke up to a message that was essentially a suicide note. This was not the first time this had happened. I had a panic attack, though I'm not sure whether that was due to the message or imminent funeral. I send him some messages saying that I didn't want to receive these kind of messages unless it was actually something I could help with, that he wasn't respecting my boundaries and that the friendship had become entirely one sided. I told him that I didn't want to block him but I would. He seemed to accept that, but this morning I woke up to another suicide note message. After verifying that he was still alive (he is), I started writing this ask. I feel bad, but I'm so tired of doing all the emotional labour. I have my own shit to deal with and i'm not his therapist. WIBTA if I blocked him?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #self harm cw #suicide cw

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theskeletonprior · 11 days

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I left my awful soul-sucking job so my writing commissions are now open! Looking for a brainrot cure? Got a story that won't write itself? There's a way. Drop me a line! I'm especially good at nailing character voices, hurt/comfort, polyamory, and subtle moments of intimacy. While I don’t mind writing intimate scenes, I don’t accept graphic NSFW requests, non-con, or underage. When in doubt, just check in with me first! You can message me here on Tumblr, or email me at [email protected]. The hellsite, as I'm sure you know, does eat asks and such sometimes, so if you don't hear back, don't be afraid to reach out again!

Price List (CAD)

1000 words for $20 1500 words for $35 2000 words for $45 Pro rate for writers these days is $0.08 per word, so my commission rates are an absolute steal. Our dollar is also a little bit trash here in the land of maple syrup and poutine or whatever, so if you happen to trade in eagle bux, even better for you! My commissions help me pay for things like sertraline, funding for my ongoing effort to be reunited with my beloved husband, the occasional good meal, and resources for my work as a professional Dungeon Master (I can't believe that one either). So hire a dead guy, and help support a queer creative. I also donate any tips to Gaza Funds.

If you’re looking for a longer work, feel free shoot me an email at [email protected] and we’ll chat. Words are what I do.

Work Samples

You can read all my Tav Tales to date here on AO3, but here are some of the highlights.

To Live in Infamy (2k Durgetash)

The morning, Enver is lucky enough to have pants on. The Slayer snaps his chains as it comes screaming into the daylight, barrelling out of the bed. The force of Infamy’s awakening sends Enver rolling onto the floor, narrowly missing being crushed by the bedframe. He’s tangled in their sheets, and already lamenting that they’ll need to be replaced. This silk had come all the way from Waterdeep. That’s his first thought, even with his heart pounding in his ears. He struggles to free himself, but the Slayer isn’t coming for him. There’s the acrid smell of half-cast sorcery, and then the screaming starts. When something warm and wet splashes onto him, soaking through the sheets, Enver hopes it’s blood. The crunching of bones and the smell of bright copper gives him a little hope that it’s not something worse. It wouldn’t be the first time a would be assassin emptied their stomach or their bowels in terror before the Slayer. Enver unrolls himself at last, leaning back on his elbows to enjoy the show, even as the blood—and thank goodness it is blood—soaks through his nice sheets. The mess quite nearly defies description.

Callus (2k Tav/Astarion/Halsin)

“Oh, my dear, what a miserable turn of events.” Astarion kisses Lukan’s hair gently. “I could probably catch up with him, you know. Plenty of good alleyways in this end of town to drag him into, get him acquainted with my nice new boots. Sturdy enough to kick a man entirely to death.” “You got new boots?” Lukan can’t help a watery smile, desperate to redirect the conversation. He doesn’t want Thindulion killed. It had been bad enough to bury his mother, and as much as he wants to hate his father for abandoning them, he hates the thought of being orphaned even more. And now he knows he has a sister, and he couldn’t put her through that. “That’s beside the point,” Astarion says. “I’m asking if a little spot of patricide might cheer you up.” Lukan shakes his head. “It’s not like that,” he says. He wants to try to make light, to play along with Astarion’s flippant turn of phrase, but it’s just too heavy. It doesn’t go unnoticed. “I might have another idea, in that case,” Astarion tells him. “Why don’t you have a sit on the bed, get those boots off, and I’ll be back, having done precisely no murders, I promise.”

In the Spider’s Parlor (3.5k Tav/Kar'niss)

She peers over her shoulder at him and then rolls her head, exposing more of her neck. Suddenly his need, that wretched appetite, is not as hideous as it has been, he feels no disgust for what he wants, for the curse that makes him want it. There’s only this moment. He nips lightly, slipping his arms around her, embracing the warmth. He reaches out with his forelegs, feeling her, holding her securely as he had done that first time. He’s heard the sound she makes when letting blood, and now he knows it for what it is. Pleasure. His purr rumbles low in his chest, but he never bites, lapping softly at the thin rivulet of blood that wells from where he’s nipped her, one delectable drop at a time. Solinore reaches up, one hand tangling in his hair, relaxing in his grip. “What you ask of me, is yours,” Kar’niss says, applying pressure to the nick he’d made to stop what little bleeding he’d caused. “You sure?” she asks, playfully. “I could ask for another ride on your back. Or…” He knows what that smirk implies. “What you ask of me,” he says again, “is yours.”

#The Prior's Commissions #writing commissions #commission info #commissions open #bg3 fanfiction #dnd fanfiction #dnd characters

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shizucheese · 8 months

Text

Welcome to my Red String Board for the Magnus Protocol. Instead of making new posts I'm just going to reblog this and add new thoughts after every episode and update certain theories. Things might be a little bit messy because some of this is a bit stream of conscious but I'll try my best to at least keep the formatting consistent. So let's get this party started. 1/24/23: As of this writing the first two episodes have been released. Theory: As more episodes come out and we get more cases/ statements, is there going to be a pattern to the "Talker" statements and which voice gets used (or if it's a Talker at all?). References to specific subjects, Entities, other themes? What we have right now: “Talkers”

Norris (Voice: Martin?/ Alex)

Episode 1: “Reanimation (Partial) -/- Regret [Email]”. The Stranger? The End? The Dark? The Lonely? The Flesh? Arthur (Nolan?).

Chester (Voice: John?/ Jonny)

Episode 1: “Transformation (eyes) -/- Tresspass [chat log]”. Magnus Institute, The Eye. (Involves a forum; the Web?).

Agustus: N/A

Non-Talkers (?) Episode 2: "Transformation (full) -/- dysmorphic [video call]". The Spiral? The Flesh. The Stranger. Ink 5oul (avatar/ entity?) Are different characters aligned with certain Entities (working off of known Entities from TMA)

Alice = Spiral? (Conspiracy Theories). Web? (Is the reason why Sam got his job. Her whole conspiracy theory thing could be way to mess with people/ manipulate them)

Gwen = The Buried (?) (Behind on her work. Ambition?)

Colin = The Slaughter? (Irritability) The Eye? (Something’s listening?)

Sam = The Eye (Hunger for knowledge/ need to know even when warned it could be detrimental).

I have a theory about the butterfly effect/ multiverse theory regarding the manifestation of the Entities and new ones emerging as a result of things being just different enough for it to happen. The full thing + my support for it is long enough to warrant it's own post though so I'm going to make it one and then probably link it here just for record keeping purposes. Edit: My Butterfly effect/ Multiverse Entity Theory

#the magnus protocol #the magnus protocol spoilers #tmp #tmp spoilers #tmagp #tmagp spoilers #the magnus protocol speculation #tmp speculation #tmagp speculation #Shizu's Red String Board

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vampemoqueen · 1 month

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Commissions Open! And VTM Art server!

Hello hello, I am opening commissions again for this year! I'm currently between jobs and am actively looking for work. In the meantime, I am opening commissions to help pay the bills and rent. I'd appreciate any reblogs and support you can give.🥰 You can check out and order a commission, or simply leave a tip on my new Ko-Fi page! I also have a linktree for galleries to my work. You can also search the tag #myart on my blog to find my posts here.

If you have any questions at all, you can reach me here via DMs, on Ko-Fi, or my email [email protected]. Thanks again for checking out my page! -------------------------------------------------------------

I also run a VTM art server called Gallery Noir! Gallery Noir is an art share server that’s VTMB themed. It is open to everyone from the wider WoD fandom who wants to share and see cool work! There are dedicated gallery spaces to post creative work and discuss, spaces to promote paid work like commissions, rooms for general chat, and more. We’re open to seeing all cool works like art, writing, crafts, video content, and more. It is small and new, and we’re hoping to grow more! We have art exchange events that happen regularly every few months. It’s the perfect chance to receive a cool gift and make something nice for someone in return. We’ll also have other, smaller events throughout the year.

Looking for: Artists and creatives who post WoD fanwork, Non-creatives looking to spot cool work, People just looking to chat

Invitation link:

#my art #art comms open

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cloneoczine · 6 months

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Hi everyone!

I know it’s been a while since you’ve heard from us but we do have some news regarding the clone oc zine. Unfortunately this zine never made it to fruition as a complete, purchasable zine which was due to numerous factors.

However! I have some good news. The artists and writers who worked so hard to create amazing pieces featuring beloved clone original characters will be posting those pieces to tumblr, Instagram and AO3 and I will be sharing their amazing work on this blog, so make sure to keep watch and support these amazing artists and writers!

The main goal of this zine was supposed to bring together a community of creators who shared a love and appreciation of each others original clone characters whilst highlighting Temuera Morrison’s role in Star Wars and standing up for the respecting of cultures as well as a movement for un-whitewashing Star Wars and Star Wars art.

While the zine itself didn’t end up in complete, collated version, I believe the creators of this zine did an excellent job of presenting these ideals and throughout the process I really appreciated the love and care the artists and writers showed for each others OCs and creations.

Thank you so much to the hardworking contributors for being so patient with me and sticking through to this less-than-hoped-for finish. You guys have been awesome to work with and so kind this entire time and I’m so grateful that I got to know you through your work and chatting on the clone oc zine discord.

Originally, we would have sold the zine and donated the profits to a charity that benefitted Aotearoa (and I would like to thank the person (who’s name I’m not mentioning as I didn’t get permission) who emailed the team to discuss charity options and gave us some tips for staying respectful to Māori people throughout the zine process) and I would still like to share those charities so I will make a seperate post about that later.

Thank you to everyone who has shown support throughout these very weird and wacky years and I look forward to everyone seeing and supporting the artists and writers of the Clone Oc Zine and other artists and writers who weren’t a part of the zine but have their own Star Wars OCs.

Lots of love,

Lynn

#clone oc zine #star wars #fandom zines #clone oc

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yurrfttboyy · 2 years

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My big brother’s best friend Anthony had been around my whole life. He was as straight as my brother, a total gym rat who’s primary interest was video games and puss*. I don’t remember when exactly, but at some point I started stealing whiffs of Anthony and my brothers rank shoes when they would be in the basement playing video games. He would come over at least 3 nights a week and they’d just spend hours down there gaming and talking about chicks, while I’d be nonchalantly finding reasons to walk past the front door so that I could bend over and dive face-first into their shoes.

One day, Anthony came up to use the toilet and I didn’t know. He came around the corner to find me buried in his dirty, obviously rank shoes, but he didn’t say anything. He stopped for a second, looked down at the tent in my shorts and chuckled briefly before continuing back down to the basement, without a single word.

Years later, after my brother moved away to start a new life, Anthony hit me up. He had been struggling to keep a job, as he was rather lazy and didn’t like to work. He knew that I had a successful career, and apparently remembered how much I liked his feet, because he told me in his email that he had a proposition for me. He said that he would make me his foot slave if I agree to give him half of my income.

I was intrigued, and knew that I could afford it, so I offered to meet him. We met at a nice restaurant, i of course agreed to pay for us both, and we discussed it further. He told me that his parents were going to throw him out if he didn’t find a steady income soon, and that he’s had several jobs but couldn’t stand any one of them, and inevitably ended up quitting or getting fired for poor attendance from each one. I understood his situation, and desperately wanted to be his foot slave, so I agreed.

He told me to pay for his meal and then to go buy a small, metal chastity belt to put on. He told me that he was repulsed by the idea of me touching myself while thinking about his feet, so enforced chastity would be a mandatory part of the deal. He told me once I had it locked on and had my first payment that he would come to my house to collect the keys and my payment, and I’d finally get to drag my tongue across his rank soles.

****

That was five years ago, and not a thing has changed. Anthony lied to his family and told them he found a descent job, they all believed it and couldn’t be more proud. I’ve spent the last 5 years supporting him entirely, all while locked in chastity and constantly being fed his grimy foot sweat. We live together in “his” townhouse that I paid for, only I stay in the basement and out of his way unless he needs me to clean his feet or do some other menial chore for him.

I’m licking his feet right now, after a long day of playing basketball with some friends out in the park without socks, when he starts chuckling loudly. “Hey fag, I just had a chat with your brother. He’s coming to town next week, I told him he could stay in the guest room. I can’t wait to catch up, it’s been too long.” He told me, all while luxuriously wiggling his toes in my face. “While he’s here I expect total obedience out of you, don’t forget who and what you are. You will still be responsible for all domestic chores, you will still cook and serve all meals to us BOTH, and you will follow any order that my guest has to give, no matter how humiliating or ridiculous, do you understand me?” He said, moving his foot away for a moment to glare into my eyes. I meekly responded with a “yes sir”

“Good boy. I’ll be testing you while he’s here, and I expect absolutely zero fuck-ups. He’s not your brother anymore, you are a slave and he is your master’s best friend, and you WILL treat him accordingly.” All I could do was keep licking his feet and dread what was to come next week…

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mysticmellowlove · 10 months

Note

Yoooo that yan streamer was goood!!! Man is delulu and so down bad lol. I was wondering, what if his 'Sugar' decided to quit, like, they quit being a mod and found a better paying job, like an editor for a bigger creator, like a youtuber with millions of followers. You didn't specify the college degree that the darling have, so i just assume they have a degree related to film production.

note; Seth is so delusional and unfortunately he's backed by some pretty rich, also delusional, people. the end product, darling being completely trapped in his grasp.

warnings; yandere behaviours,

He tries really hard to be happy for you. Seth knew how sucky the apartments you both lived in were, he himself had been saving up to move after all.

After your initial meeting at the takeaway place he felt an even larger connection to you. You were right there after all, his most beloved mod. But now, you had a better job that paid more than he did. It infuriated him when you told him over a small cup of tea. He acted as if he was excited for you, a nice pat on the back (in which his hand lingers a little too long) and a celebratory goodbye hug (was he sniffing your hair?) were all he needed to do to show his excitement.

That night he went into his highest paid chatters and vented about how the world was trying to take you away from him. Obviously, the chatters weren't impressed either. More money for you was good but if you had a full time job then you wouldn't be on as much anymore, eventually you wouldn't even want to mod for Seth! They couldn't have that.

That was how it started, their grand plan. Seth would tease the information out of you about your new job. You were a small-time editor for some local reality show, working under several other editors. Seeing you as such a small part of a bigger production angered him. You deserved the world after all, you did such a good job looking after him and his chat. Always so considerate and welcoming...

After he found out he went and told his chatters. In the weeks after the film studio found floods of negative comments, stock drops and sudden appeals to get the studio shut down because of accusations that seemed to come out of nowhere.

In the meantime, Seth would be over at your apartment, listening to all of your worries about what was supposed to be this new stable job. It crushed him to see you so downtrodden, without the smile he always imagined was plastered on your face.

The two of you really grew closer over this time, he seemed dependable and you were so open to manipulation. All you had to do was let him in and he'd take care of the rest!

One day you got the dreaded email, you would have to be let go as the company was suddenly going under. Don't worry though, you always had a place on Seth's team! His viewership was always going up (totally not because his chat was working overtime to support and promote him) and he was even getting some really cool twitch deals (thanks to some of his more frequent influential chatters).

All you had to do was stick with him for the moment while you looked for another job... that he made sure would never come! He vowed to himself that one day he would be big enough to support you all by himself! He was so close so just hold on for a little while longer.

#love for anon #drabble #gn reader #yandere male #oc seth #yandere x reader

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plantinghobbies · 5 months

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The Same Damn Thing (collab with @sycophanticsolipsism)

Here’s part 5, can’t believe we’ve only got two parts left! Thank you to everyone for your likes and reblogs and kudos and feedback, can’t tell you how much it motivates us and how much we appreciate it. It truly lifts our spirits so thank you thank you. The most thanks to @sycophanticsolipsism for supporting my sorry ass through a writer’s block, this thing would probably still have like 100 words without you!

If you need to catch up, check out the masterlist.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, angst, probably some typos

Part 5: If I Could Go Back To That Evening We Met…

“I’d kill to go back to that evening we met. Trembling hands as I’d ask for your number again, you saw me different then…when I held your heart in my hand” - Lewis Capaldi

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Nobody on the flight is happy to be leaving the magic of Rome, clutching their Prosecco and pecorino Romano from duty free as if it will evaporate upon takeoff. Nobody except Val, that is. She is buzzing, fidgety, can’t get out of this goddamn country fast enough. She has been in constant motion since the moment she’d woken up this morning.

Val’s had her share of mornings (less than some of her friends but more than she likes to admit) where she woke up disoriented and hungover, unhappy with where she was and a little foggy on how she got there. But this morning? This one was by far the worst, because she didn’t wake up next to a strange guy wearing one sock drooling on her shoulder. No, instead it was Matty - adorable, inconvenient, sexy Matty. By one night stand standards, it was probably the safest she’d ever been. And yet it was the most reckless, brainless thing she’d ever done.

‘It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.’ She’d repeated it to herself over and over - during her shower, throughout the most chaotic packing job of her life, and all the way to the airport. But no matter how much Val tried, her treacherous bitch of a brain would not let it go. She rocks up to the gate after boarding has begun, sliding into her seat at the front of the plane (she’d used the few minutes waiting for a taxi at the hotel to switch her seat), keeping her head low and her sunglasses on (she takes back all the times she previously called people wearing sunglasses on planes pretentious twats. She gets it now). She’d held her breath as he boarded, pretending to be asleep when she saw his eyes searching for her. Her noise cancelling headphones provide little relief from the rattling around in her head. Now that she’s stopped, albeit forcibly, it’s harder to keep the thoughts she’s desperate to avoid at bay.

She catches up on texts as the plane taxies, until her friend Dina responds to a picture of Barry Keoghan in the group chat with a resounding “fuck me” and Val’s transported back to the moment Matty whispered that in her ear as he slid into her for the first time. Opening her email once they’re airborne, her inbox is flooded with emails from him from the last few days, running commentary on the conference sessions they’d attended separately. Reading his cute ramblings on the boring presenters and arrogant question askers felt like a shiv jabbed through her ribs. Finally, she gives up, slamming the laptop shut and closing her eyes. Maybe if she’s unconscious she won’t think about it.

If her life were a movie, Val would have stirred to light stubble nuzzling her neck, his hand snaking down her front, his gruff voice whispering filthy nothings in her ear. But life wasn’t a movie. Instead, the blare of the wakeup call had jolted them awake, her elbow colliding with his jaw as they both scrambled to answer it. By the time Matty’d thanked the hotel staff with broken Italian, Val was already in her jeans, searching for her earring while avoiding looking at him completely.

“Val…” His voice is low, shaky, uncertain, like he’s approaching a caged animal. Val’s heard him employ that tone a hundred times before - with clients and colleagues when he wants to win them over, with their uni friends when he was trying to mediate a dispute between them, with Marin when she was pushing herself too hard toward the end. But he’s never used it with Val before, until now. He thinks it’s full of charm and confidence and take-charge-ness. But what it feels like right now is patronizing. It’s the first time Val fucking hates the sound of his voice.

There’s a twinge in her neck she’s not sure the cause of as she whips her head around. “Don’t give me that tone.”

Matty physically recoils, blinking stupidly back at her. “I don’t know -“ He looks down at the bed before standing, moving to the chair in the room, maybe to put more distance between them, escape the scene of the crime.

“Yea you do!”

“Look, I’m confused too but…” But she isn’t. Confused that is. She may not be on board with all her actions over the last several hours, but in this moment, she is in full control of how she feels.

Angry, that’s how Val feels. Angry at herself for being an idiot cliche who slept with her boss. Beyond annoyed at him for not just leaving her the fuck alone to languish on Richard’s team all those months ago. Furious with whatever early Roman asshole invented wine in the first place, with its inhibition-altering goodness. And don’t even get her started on Marianne, who landed them in this joint-room trope predicament in the first place. Yep, her shit list is growing by the minute. She would have NEVER done this at home. Never. She needs to get back - to her bed, to her routine, to her goddamn sanity. Oh, she is clear on her emotions alright.

“Oh, I’m not. I know what this was, no need to explain it.” Sheets and pillows are flying now as the search continues for her earring. “Listen, we can’t miss our flight and I need to find my earring. I can’t lose it, it’s—“

“Marin’s, I know.”

“Of course you do.” She’s looking in the mini fridge now, which she knows is ridiculous, but she just has to keep moving. “Obviously, you’d remember your girlfriend’s ear—“

Matty’s chair scrapes against the floor with a harsh sound, drawing Val’s eyes over to his body. Bad idea, as he sits up abruptly and leans forward. “Listen, I don’t know what you heard about us.” Us. The word hits her like a visceral gut punch, a dull ache radiating out from her chest. It’s one thing to think it and another thing altogether to hear it. Her worn patience snaps, she can’t sit here with the smell of sex still lingering in the air and think of them. She just can’t. “It’s not what you th—“

“Aaah, got it!” Fuck, thank god. Her shirt she can do without but there was no way Val was leaving without that earring. She readies to flee, gathering her bag and looking around for her key card… before it settles on her that she’s in her room. She can’t leave, at least not without looking even more erratic than she feels. Plus, they really need to get a fucking move on to the airport and he’s still shuffling by the bed in just his pants.

She pauses, back turned to him as she speaks. “Listen” she repeats - it’s what her mum would refer to as a verbal tick, “umm, I’m going to hop in the shower, we’ve really got to go and I’m sure you have to pack and—” she’s moving toward the bathroom now, and the blessed door that will put a much-needed barrier between them so she can wash his scent off, and catch her breath and think. Something she clearly wasn’t doing last night. “And I forgot to pick up one last bag of coffee for my neighbor so I’m gonna run to that place down the square. I’ll just meet you at the gate.” The last part is thrown over her shoulder as she slams the door shut, not broaching any argument. She presses her back to the door, holding her breath, hanging on to her resolve by a thread. After eighteen seconds (her youth swim training finally came in handy), she hears the rustling of his clothes, the click of the lock, and then nothing. The sound that she makes as she finally takes a deep breath sounds like relief, and yet it doesn’t feel like it.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When they land, Val is off the plane like a shot, power walking through border control, not looking back. She implores every God she’s ever heard of - she even throws Dumbledore in there for good measure - that her suitcase is already waiting for her at baggage claim, assisting her quick getaway from the walking reminder in a wrinkled black suit and raybans somewhere behind her. But she must have exhausted all her luck between rounds two and three last night because the conveyer belt hasn’t even started moving yet (fucking Heathrow). He catches up to her a few minutes later, which is unfortunate because she was hoping to not see him until sometime next month. Maybe year. Decade. Never? She knows she’s being childish but at least now her mood matches her actions. Her boss! Her sister’s something. Her friend.

The look he levels her with is heavy with impatience. Oh, he’s waiting for her to say something? Fat chance, talking to him is what got her into this mess in the first place. Val talked herself right out of her senses and into his bed. Her bed. A bed. Speaking of, she wants to get to hers so she can crawl into it and die. “Where the hell are these bags?!” Mumbling to herself as a hideous green paisley suitcase makes a full go around the luggage turn style again before Matty seems to get fed up with their verbal game of chicken, taking a deep breath and letting a long sigh preview his words. “Well I guess I’ll sta-“

“Matty?” A high-pitched voice calls from somewhere behind them. Saved! Maybe there’s some magic left for her after all.

He whirls around to the voice, which is attached to a striking woman who Val does not recognize. Probably an enterprising networker from the conference. Now’s her chance to back away, book it to the other end of the carousel. Hell, maybe she should just abandon the bag, she can always come back and get it later. Having decided on letting present Val off the hook and leaving future Val to deal with the postponed chat with Matt, she turns to leave - when the woman steps into (invades is more like it from where Val’s standing) Matty’s personal space, confidentially, almost intimately. Val is glued to the spot, curiosity getting the best of her.

“Cheryl…hi, what are you - it’s nice to - aah” He awkwardly goes to hug the woman but they get tangled as they lean in, barely manage a weird half hug, half cheek kiss. Awkward is not a trait she’s used to seeing on him, and it really doesn’t suit.

Val doesn’t know if it’s years of computational science training or the hours of true crime documentaries she’s devoured but something has her mind whirring, interest piqued, collecting data on this new person. Tall, brunette, well dressed, older (she can’t be more than Matty’s age but Val is feeling petty all of a sudden).

“So that’s why you’ve been so hard to reach lately. Long trip?” Cheryl’s eyes dart towards her and then back to Matty, clearly content to not make Val’s acquaintance. She’s toe to toe with Matty now, which Val knows from no more legitimate source than Cosmo is a sign that they’re clearly comfortable in each other’s personal space. Physical space. Val doesn’t like where this is going but can’t seem to look away.

“Ehm no, just Rome. Conference.” He clears his throat into his fist and begins rocking on his heels in a way she’s never seen him do before. Who the fuck is this woman? “You?”

“Showcase in Sweden,” Cheryl says as if this explains everything. It doesn’t, not nearly enough. Be more specific Cheryl, you’re not giving me a lot to work with here! “But I’m home for a few weeks. We should…ummm…get together again, last time was… fun.” She punctuates the last part, dragging a manicured nail down Matty’s chest. Val knows later (once she’s home and showered and slept and sane again) she’ll admire Cheryl’s boldness, wish they were friends so she could ask her how she seems to manage more confidence in that one finger than Val seems to have in her whole body.

For his part, Matty does finally step back - or maybe he just loses his equilibrium in the presence of Miss Congeniality (she can’t help it) - and collides with Val, startling as if noticing her for the first time. And in this moment, the data set is complete - she doesn’t need to gather any more information to come to her conclusion - they’ve fucked. Recent enough that Cheryl doesn’t hesitate in initiating contact. Intimate contact that had him seemingly forgetting all about Val. The woman he slept with last night!

Keep moving.

Before he can move to introduce her or address her or do anything with her, she spots her bag, lunges for it, and leaves without another word.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Keep moving.

There’s a Diet Coke stain on Val’s sweater, a general stale smell in the air that she’s pretty sure is coming from her, and she’s stiff and sore in areas she hasn’t been in a while. But she can’t go home. Because home has the couch where they sat till her head ached and back screamed, pulling and fixing data and railing against their colleagues for fucking up. It’s got the blanket she’d caught him wiping his eyes on as they watched Manchester By the Sea together. And the fucking grease stain on the edge of her carpet that he didn’t think she knew about from the pizza he’d dropped on it. (She might have to burn that rug, or sell it.) And the old journal tucked away in her closet filled with her thoughts of him that show just how stupid she’d been for him and for how long.

So no, Val doesn’t go home. When the cab driver asks where to, she rattles off the first place that comes to mind, dragging her suitcase behind her out of the backseat and into the cinema. The obviously-stoned teenager behind the counter doesn’t bat an eye when she asks him for one ticket to the “least fucking romantic thing you’ve got going here,” punching a few buttons before spitting out a stub and receipt for the latest installment in the Saw franchise. But not even gore and guts can keep her mind from drifting. The torture on screen ramps up - Val wants to picture Matty groaning in agony as she tortures him for all the shit he’s put her through today but all her mind can seem to conjure are his moans of pleasure.

She’s pictured him between her thighs so many times that she’s probably imagined every move he’s making tonight, from the moment he started trailing his lips down past her breasts. The way his mouth licks at each of her ribs as he slinks down her body seems familiar. And Val knows that she’s pictured him licking his bottom lip the way he does now as he slides her panties to the side with his finger. But all of these fantasies, she realizes now, have been devoid of the single hottest thing she could never imagine. His sounds. Because the gutteral groan that escapes him as he licks into her for the first time is like nothing she’s ever heard before. It must have surprised him too because he pauses after that first taste, resting his forehead against her pelvis, heavy pants tickling her skin. Val’s hands instinctively find his hair, raking through it, fingertips massaging the top of his head. She’s a little uncertain why he paused but she can’t help but stop and appreciate the intimacy of this moment, something new for them even after all their years of knowing each other.

“Christ,” he mutters, rolling his head slightly back and forth as he plants lazy kisses wherever his mouth lands, seemingly unhurried. But not knowing what he’s thinking begins to make her anxious. Was there something wrong? She’d waxed recently (not that it mattered and fuck him if he thought it did)…right? Yes, yes definitely. Maybe it wasn’t his thing, had she pushed him to do it? Oh god, was she the problem?

Her hand slid from his hair to his jaw, trying to coax him back up her body. She gasps at the quick snatch of her wrist, firm but gentle, his large hand encircling her wrist easily. He slides her other one alongside it, pinning both of her wrists in place easily on her left side.

“I just….you don’t have to….listen, just come up and we’ll…”

“Val?”

“Yea?”

“You are the fucking best thing I’ve ever tasted. Now stop thinking and let me enjoy it.”

She walks out halfway through the movie, her fickle mind unable to give into the distraction for long. There’s a cafe right next to the theater and Val ignores the annoyed glances she gets for hogging a table meant for two. But she needs room for her baggage. ‘Fitting’, she thinks.

She’s on her second latte and third episode of Derry Girls when her mum calls. Normally, she’d put her off until she’s in a better mood to chat, has more energy to pretend. One of the hazards of having a psychoanalyst for a mother is that every interaction can feel like a session, unable to avoid her trained instincts. But she’d already dodged her calls twice and Val is certain that even though her mother knows she was traveling with Matty (her mother was so relieved when Val said Matty was going, you’d have thought he was a 6’5 bodyguard instead of a 5’10 casual exerciser), if she doesn’t pick up a third time Gwen will start to panic. After what her mother’s been through, she tries not to blame her.

When Gwen asks how the trip went, Val picks her words carefully, trying to muster believable excitement behind it. “Good!”

“Really? It doesn’t sound good?” Clearly, her acting needs work.

“No, it was.” She tries again, hoping the raised octaves in her voice would make up for the lack of it in her mood.

“You and Matty were in Rome for a week and it was only good? I find that hard to believe.”

And she doesn’t know if it’s the sudden softness in her mothers’ usually firm voice or her own jet lag but Val feels the dam crack and break easier than it has in years. And it’s not a dainty crack either, where a tear slides down her cheek accompanied by one of those cute hiccups. No, Val is not a cute crier, never has been. It’s full on sobs, her splotchy face screwed up and her attempts to breath turning into snot-logged guffaws. She’s word vomiting her train-wrecked thoughts to her mother, trying to hide her teary face behind her crumpled napkin. The guy at the table next to her - some young college kid who probably hasn’t lived long enough to make the idiotic mistake of wanting someone you can’t have - tries to appear casual as he side-eyes her, giving her increasingly dirty looks before he slides his laptop and book off the table and jogs out of the place. ‘Yea kid, run so you don’t have to see what your life will look like in ten years,’ she thinks, reaching for the unused napkin on his table and blowing her nose loudly.

Val spares her the more salacious details but knows Gwen gets the gist. Silence follows, for so long that Val pulls her phone out of her bag to check the connection is still good.

“He calls me every year, you know.” Her mother’s voice is soft, vulnerable.

Of all the things she expected her mother to say, this was not it. “Who? Matty?!”

“Yesss darling, Matty. Every year around the anniversary.” Val rolls her eyes, of course he would. He couldn’t just make it easy for her and be a dickhead she shouldn’t have feelings for. Her mother’s voice is still flooding her earbuds “…started out with a card the first year but then he missed the second one and called all flustered from some party boat…in Ibiza, I think.” Gwen’s laugh is another thing that Val doesn’t hear that much of, wishes she heard it more. “Said he was rubbish with anything analogue and asked if I wouldn’t mind if he called from then on.”

Val grips her napkin, busying herself with shredding it into pieces. “He always asks about you. Bless him, probably thought he was being so coy, but it was obvious that he was digging for info on you.”

“Me?” The shrillness in her voice attracts a glare from the guy who’s taken over the recently-vacated table. She glares right back. She can be hysterical if she wants to here, it isn’t a bloody library.

“Don’t sound so surprised. Of course, you. Who else?” There’s rustling on the other end, the unmistakable whimper of her parent’s golden retriever as he scratches at the back door, desperate to go out. Val is suddenly homesick in a way she hadn’t been in over a decade. “I thought you all had something going at school before…”

“No, mum.” Val interrupts before that thought can even fully form, can’t take hearing someone else verbalize it. “It was him and Marin…”

The sharp bark of laughter cuts her off. “Marin? No darling, definitely not.”

The confidence with which her mother says this should make Val feel better, someone outside of her own thoughts refuting her worst nightmare. But instead, her hackles rise, instantly petulant at being so easily dismissed. Her next words are biting.

“Well, I was there so I think I would know.”

“You certainly know a lot.” Great, her mother’s passive voice. It’s a reliable tool for de-escalation, but all it seems to do for Val is piss her off more.

“Well, how would you know? You weren’t here!“ She hates how easily she reverts to sounding like a child with her mum.

“Because she told me things.” The unlike you goes unsaid.

“I-“

“Honey, you’ve always kept things close to the vest. Ever since you were little.” Her mother anticipates her defensiveness “It’s ok, it’s just your nature. But it wasn’t the same for your sister. She told me eeeeeverything. Including the fact that she was asexual.”

Val’s cheeks flame in the way they always did whenever either of her parents even said the word sex. “Wait, what?”

“Yes darling.” She says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, I-“

“Honestly Val, it’s perfectly normal, some people just aren’t driven by carnal ins-“ At that word, Val is transported back to the mortifying moment she’d asked her mother the definition of carnal at the ripe old age of 7, having come across it while trying to read one of her Nan’s trashy paperbacks with Fabio on the cover. Her dad had been livid but her mum had simply sat Val down and explained the birds and the bees. Val had never asked for a clarification on another word since.

She’d very much like to not relive that whole ordeal now, or ever again. “Mum, I know what asexual means. I just, well…” Val pauses, biting her lip in contemplation unsure of what it is that confuses her about the finding. Her sister was allowed to keep things for herself. Val had obviously never told Marin about her feelings for Matty. Thou can covet thy sister’s boyfriend as long as you don’t tell anyone…that’s how the commandment went, right? But this, this was news that would have changed Val’s whole world that first year of uni. Maybe her whole life. And she’d kept it from her! Just because Val didn’t have a right to be angry doesn’t mean she wasn’t anyway .“I guess I don’t know why she didn’t tell me.”

“Oh bug, I think she would have. If she had had the time.” Gwen’s voice goes soft again in the way she only gets when talking about Marin. Or her own parents. Val hates making her mum sad.

“Well, good to know, I guess. Still doesn’t mean he didn’t fancy her.” The sigh on the other end of the line

“Honey, this isn’t really about your sister, is it? It’s about you. I mean, it’s fine to be guarded.” ‘Well, thanks for your permission mum.’ “But if you like someone, sometimes you, well, you’ve got to go out on a limb. Do something that you can’t walk back.”

“Uh uh Val, eyes on me baby,” Matty’s thumb taps at her hairline, bringing her eyes back to his. “There she is, that’s my girl.” His smile is so soft, so incongruous with the harsh snap of his hips moments before. He dips his head, nose nuzzling hers as his lips skim over her Cupid’s bow. “I want to see you.”

Well, she’d definitely done that.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The elevator dings as it arrives at her floor, Val’s mind barely registering it as she stares at the hideous bargain carpet that covers every inch of her building. Two days ago, her Mum’s revelations would have had her spinning. But today, they just make her more tired. Tired of trying to decipher what it all meant - every word, every action. Tired of carrying around hope for all these years, foolish, unfounded hope. Hope could be heavy and she’d been carrying it since an early age, when Hollywood had filled her brain with stories of men who gave the smallest crumbs of affection and the women who devoured them like they were full feasts, never giving up and somehow always getting the guy. Beauty and the Beast, My Best Friends Wedding, Jerry Maguire, Bridget Jones’, Sleepless in Seattle. And those were just a few of her favorites growing up. But what those movies didn’t show was the nights filled with insomnia, the self-doubt, the second guessing yourself, the exhaustion that comes with taking every interaction with someone you would die to have - literally every single second together - and reliving it over and over again looking for the seIcret subtexts that would reveal how he felt about you. Wondering, confused, if it was love or if you weren’t just mistaking kindness for care.

Well, Val was officially giving up. Throwing in the towel. She couldn’t do it any more. She was no Hollywood heroine, she was just a mere woman, and she was tired. Of burying her feelings under shy smiles, then friendship, then a night with him that had only made the idea of friendship impossible. Of wondering if she was wasting time pining for someone when she didn’t even know how he felt. I mean, clearly he was attracted to her but just because he wanted her didn’t mean he wanted to be with her; just because he wasn’t in love with Marin didn’t mean that he was in love with Val. Contrary to how she sometimes acted, she knew she was not the only person of interest on the planet and he could have anyone he wanted.

And that was all just the personal anxiety. She hadn’t even begun to process how stupid this all was for her professionally.

As she makes the turn down her hallway, her eyes are drawn to a body, slumped in front of the door to her apartment. Asleep? Dead? Several particularly grim facts about stalkers and serial killers flash through her mind before she clocks the curls, the scuffed shoes, the pack of cigarettes lying next to him he’d clearly taken out to smoke before he must have realized where he was. On instinct, hope rises in her chest before she slaps her palm over her heart, holding it at bay. No, that was enough of that.

She kicks at his shoe, startling him for the second time that day. “How long have you been here?”

He doesn’t respond as he clambers to his feet, eyes dragging to his suitcase as if to highlight the obvious answer.

“Ok, other question. What are you doing here?” It comes out breathier than intended but she is genuinely surprised. Thought he’d be off somewhere with that troll Cheryl (she is not proud of how her feminism utterly abandons her in this moment). That she’d at least have a few well-timed sick days to prepare before seeing him again.

“I’m uh…” The toe of his brogues scrape at the floor .Whatever he wants to say, it’s enough to make him anxious. Which is enough to make Val want to avoid it at all costs.

Summoning her self-preservation, she cuts him off. “Listen, maybe we should do this when we’ve both-“

“Goddamnit Val, for once, please shut up!” His voice explodes in the small space, her gaze immediately going over her shoulder to her neighbor’s door. The last thing she needs right now is a noise complaint. Matty itches at the skin around his throat, as if raising his voice at her is as foreign to do as it was to receive. “I’m sorry, I’m sor- I just, I can’t risk any confusion here. Just need to get this out. Need you to listen. For once.” The attempt at a joke lands with a thud.

“When I’ve tried to get this out…and, I, just, it gets fucked every time.” His breath is noticeably shaky, hands on his hips as he gazes at the floor. “And I’m sick of, well I’m not sick of trying cause I’ll do that, not afraid…but I’m sick of the…if only I’d been clearer, got it out faster….in that pub, and I just, can’t take it any more…”

She’s about to tell him she’s not following when he seems to gather that for himself, head lifting to meet her eyes. She’s never been great at eye contact, always hates how put on the spot she feels by it. On instinct, Val glances away, over his shoulder, somewhere safer. A blurred hand lifts in her periphery, hovering near her face but not touching it, until her gaze turns back to his. Reminding her of the eye contact he’d insisted on the night before, as he went down on her, as he slid into her, as she came on his cock and as she’d fallen asleep.

“Val, I’m crazy about you. Have been for years… and before you say it, Marin and I weren’t anything. Or nothing like you think… I loved her, sure. But not in the way I do you…”

Val’s heard the phrase about the world going sideways before but she’d never really appreciated what it meant until now. She swears her body actually tilts sideways until it feels like the handle of her suitcase is the only thing keeping her upright. And with her equilibrium goes her ability to think straight.

“From the moment I met you when you had just got accepted, there was just something… and then you were dating that prick Roger from the cricket team.” God, Val hadn’t thought of him in ages. She’d been using him, trying to get under him to get over Matty. “…kicking myself that I’d just assumed there’d be time, like you wouldn’t just get snatched up by someone—“

The sleep deprivation seems to pick that very moment to redouble its efforts - she can’t think fast enough to respond. To buy herself time, she vomits out the first thought in her head. “Why didn’t you say something? Back then?”

“What? Rock up to you on the first day ‘Hey Val, d’you remember me? From that one weekend we hung out? Will you please go out with me? Oh, let me help you unpack, show you how shitty the beds are...’” He scoffs, she fucking hates that. “C’mon, I’d like to think I’m better than that…”

Her eyes look away, not willing to admit he’s right.

“I don’t know if you remember that night…in the pub—“ He stops, the effort of self-editing written all over his face. “What the fuck am I—Of course, I know you remember, like, the shittiest night of your life but I meant right before, when you and I were— “

She’s not intentionally tuning him out but her brain is now unhinged, skipping around and ahead, trying to determine what conclusion he’s coming to. Because the truth is, even if he’s telling the truth (she knows he has no reason to lie about this but she still can’t comprehend this monumental fact that he’s liked her for, it sounds like, almost as long as she’s liked him...) she still can’t have him. Because as the personal anxiety begins to ebb in the face of his declaration, the professional anxiety seeps in to take its place. She knows how this would go. She trusts Matty, of course she does (even after all these years, she couldn’t imagine doing anything else). But in her experience, shit like this - a relationship with a coworker - doesn’t stay quiet, no matter how hard two people try. Someone catches her glance at him differently, he says her name a certain way and suddenly it’s all anyone can talk about. The rumor mill must be fed, anything to make the mundane office more interesting, the hours less boring. It’s not that she blames them, has even joined in in her weaker moments, feeling slightly gross as she listened to the latest gossip, just wanting to be part of the inner circle, to be included. But she’s seen what it does to women, it’s always the women that pay.

“So, you can choose not to give this a shot, but it won’t be because of some bullshit misunderstanding you have about me and Marin.” There’s that tone again, like he’s confident in the case he made, assured of its persuasiveness. But once again, he’s underestimated her.

“Marin isn’t the reason.” It’s clear that’s not what he was expecting her to say, he’s caught off guard, eyes flitting back and forth between hers as if trying to scan them. “Well, not entirely. Matty, you’re my boss…”

“I’m well aware, trust me. We can handle it. Or I can.” Her eyeroll is instinctual at this point, honed from years of listening to men brush away her valid concerns as if they were so obviously not an issue that it’s idiotic that she’d even been thinking about it. “It doesn’t matter, as long as we’re tog—“

“No, it does… matter, that is… Cause this won’t be a problem for you, but for me it will be. A big one. My reputation, my career. People will think I slept my way into every job opportunity from here on out…” Val crosses her arms in front of her chest to stop wringing of her hands.

Matty is shifting his weight from side to side, clearly uncomfortable with the way the conversation has veered off course. “No, they won’t… and if they do, I’d immediately address it. We’d report them! I’m not really a nobody here, y’know.”

“Oh great, I can hear people now. ‘There goes Matty, taking Val ‘under his wing’” the air quotes aren’t really needed with the sarcasm laced in her voice but it’s important to her he knows how much that idea offends her. “I fucking hate that phrase.”

The smell of his cologne tingles as he takes a step closer, that confidence back in his voice. “Listen, I’m not stupid enough to think that it’d be totally fair, or that there isn’t stuff we have to work out—" (he says stuff as though the problem was (is) a small glitch in the code and not a huge attack on her entire system, her career) “—but I am falling in love with you… I want to do that with you. Want to do everything with you,” he chuckles softly, peering into her eyes, “And I think you do too, or at least I would hope so.”

Her resolve is crumbling, she needs him to go away, leave her so she can fall apart in peace. “No.”

“No?” Matty rakes his hands through his hair, interlocking his hands behind his head, his biceps flexing in a way that Val can’t help but find hot.

“Matty, I…I am just…I can’t…I’ve worked too hard for everything I’m accomplishing now for it to be credited to you. It would kill me to have people think that.” She hates thinking out loud but her trusty brain-to-mouth filter is failing her right now. Thankfully, he fills in the gaps for her. “It’s not worth the risk—“ The words are said carelessly but she can’t stuff them back in.

“No, I think what you mean is I’m not worth the risk” He says, and on his face she can read all the hurt her simple denial has inflicted. She wishes he would understand, that he would just listen and see it from her perspective because when she puts it all down on paper…well— the cons outweigh the pros, and her lists have rarely ever failed her. What if they don’t work out? What if after all this time pining for each other, they go on a couple of dates and realize they’ve made a mistake? It’s not like they can walk this back. Data isn’t subjective, it’s objective, it’s rational, reliable. Everything that they are not right now. She’s about to summarize it for him, a task which would be made easier if she had time to write it out, organize it.

Her thoughts feel scattered. “I’m not saying—” but it doesn’t matter that she’s not organized because she doesn’t get far.

“Got it,” he cuts her off, voice suddenly gruff and cold. “I’m an idiot. Thought last night meant you were still mooning over me the way you used to—jokes on me, I guess.” It’s been a while since she’s seen him like this, wounded animal cruelly lashing out at a perceived attack. This Matty is an unpleasant addition.

“Oh, fuck off, sounds like you were pining right back. Not that you kept your bed cold waiting though, did you? Fucking Cheryl and…”

“Cheryl?! God you’re unbelievable” His bag slaps against his thigh as he hauls it over his shoulder violently. “Cheryl is nothing. She was a one night stand—“

“—so was I!” They are screaming now and Val is almost surprised that the landlord hasn’t already been called.

Val doesn’t have time to see his reaction before he moves past her to the elevator. “Your words, not mine” He bypasses the elevator altogether, slamming the door to the stairwell open and disappearing into it.

When she’s finally in her apartment, suitcase sprawled open in her living room and temporary bed made on her couch, she lets it wash over her. All the emotions she has kept in a vice like grip since the second her feet hit the floor this morning, or rather till her feet landed in the heap of denim where Matty’s jeans had landed the night before. Val wants to be proud of herself for cutting it off, not feeding the beast (figuratively or literally) but what she really feels is regret.

#run don’t walk fic rec #matty healy fanfiction #1975 fanfic #matty healy fanfic #matty healy smut #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy

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