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sadhours · 3 months

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steve with a degradation kink 👀 jokingly calling him a pervert and he gets so flushed and embarrassed

heheh no I love this

steve harrington x f!reader

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, steve and reader are childhood best friends, one use of y/n, perv!steve, degradation kink, oral (f receiving), hand stuff

💖💖💖💖

you noticed your best friend reacted strangely to criticism. depending on the person. when his dad criticized him, his face went stoic and he replied to Mr. Harrington with one word answers. same kind of thing when his boss did it at work, though he wore his annoyance on his face then. when robin did it, he rolled his eyes. but when pretty girls who weren’t lesbians, at least to his knowledge, did it, his face got all flushed and his pupils would about double in size. and you found that intriguing. you’d done it plenty within the long years of your friendship but you’d never actually looked at how he responded. until one day.

a winter day. it was too cold to chill by the pool and the harrington’s were home. so you were confined to his horridly designed bedroom. god awful lamp lighting the room dimly as the sun was beginning to set. steve was propped up on the floor, back against his mattress as he tossed a baseball up and caught it. over and over. he looked as bored as you felt.

you got up from the floor and decided to go digging through his bedroom. not entirely sure what you were looking for but there had to be something entertaining in here. you start with his desk, opening drawers and scoping out the insides.

“yeah, just go through my stuff,” steve says with a shrug, voice dripping in sarcasm, “that’s totally cool.”

“oh, wah,” you mock him, “i’m bored. there’s gotta be something interesting tucked away in here.”

steve throws you an annoyed look, “yeah and that’s why i’m playing catch with myself.”

you ignore him, continuing to file through his belongings. you manage through his desk, then his dresser drawers and nightstand. it’s when you drop to the floor and peek under his bed that you find something. a box. you pull it out and steve scrambles to slam his hand on top of it.

“alright, ha ha ha, you had your fun! stop going through my stuff,” he says, eyes wide and worried.

you scoff, lips curling up with the exhale, “oh, no, that reaction tells me i just found the jackpot. what’s in the box, steven?”

“none of your business,” he says sternly, moving to slide it back under the bed but you stop it, fingers hooking into the lid and steve lunges forward, almost crushing the box with his body as he looks up at you panicked. “i mean it, y/n.”

“now i really gotta see what’s in here,” you go to tug it away and steve bear hugs the box. “c’mon, steve, i know every single one of your secrets. this can’t be that bad.”

“it’s personal, something’s you don’t need to know,” he insists, lips dropping into a frown.

you pull again, resulting in the pair of you wrestling for the box. the motions knock it over, spilling the contents out on the rug. to no one’s shock, it’s porn. magazines and two tapes. but kind of surprisingly, there’s panties and uh, Polaroids of Nancy. Not explicit by any means. Just photos of her smiling.

“oh, Steve,” you grab one of the photos and hold it up to inspect, “Nancy made it in the spank bank? Ya know, these aren’t even dirty, you don’t have to like, hide them.”

“Please, for the love of God,” his face is as red as a fire truck, it’s kind of… cute, seeing Steve so embarrassed. He’s usually so calm and collected. The coolest dude you know. “Stop looking.”

“Why?” you giggle, “This is by far the most interesting thing in this room.”

Then you tilt your head as you see it. Oh. That’s why. There’s Polaroid of you. In a bikini. In the backyard, lounged by the pool. Steve scrambles for it but you’re able to snatch it first.

“Oh, my god,” you gasp, examining the photo carefully. You remember the day it was taken. Just this past summer. You’d gotten a new bikini, you were excited to wear it. Red. “Like Phoebe Cates,” Steve had said and you uh, surprisingly didn’t pick up on it. That Steve looked at you like that. Looking back, it makes sense, the way he ran in to get his camera. The fact he compared you to a celebrity he’d been Gaga over.

He’s completely silent as he watches you connect the dots. Steve is attracted to you. Steve jacks off to you. You’ve made it in the spank bank. This information is intoxicating. It’s a mutual attraction. Hell, you can’t even count the amount of times you’ve laid back and flicked the bean with your best friend, Steve Harrington, in mind. The day he sprouted chest hair and his body got a little more muscular, you’d been bombarded with an overwhelming attraction to the guy. You swallow hard, then your eyes drop as Steve’s hand moves to grab a pair of underwear that was also in the box. You drop the photo and grab his wrist, eyes meeting his and the absolute panic in his eyes is… weirdly arousing to you. Then you see the pair, eyes scanning over the white cotton and faded print of cherries decorating them.

“Are those my underwear, Steve?” you ask, glancing back up at him.

“No,” he lies, won’t meet your eyes as he stares down at them in his hand.

“Did you steal my underwear, Steve?”

“Why would I do that?” he replies, looking up at you finally, trying to look nonchalant.

You swallow hard, you should be furious but you’re… you’re not. You’re turned on. This absolute creep behavior, but coming from Steve, it’s so… sweet and vulnerable. Makes you look into those big brown eyes and want to kiss his face all over. But Steve seems to like the humiliation. And it’s making your body erupt in desire.

“Because you’re a pervert,” you tell him, watching as his pupils double in size and he inhales sharply. He swallows and you see his Adam’s apple bob with the motion.

“No, I’m not,” he says, voice quiet and breathy.

“Yes, you are,” you tug the underwear from his hands and look down at them, trying to remember the last time you’d worn them. You and Steve has countless sleepovers, your parents trusted him beyond belief and his parents were rather distant. There were so many opportunities to fool around but it never happened. Which now you think is a little surprising, considering there was that attraction and you’d shared beds as hormonal teens. Can’t believe you’re discovering it now as “adults”. But maybe that’s why you feel bold enough to push him on his back, crawling over to straddle his waist and you can feel his erection hidden underneath his jeans. You hold up the panties, “You smell these while you jerk off to me?”

It’s almost as if you’re not yourself, watching this unfold from a outside perspective. You haven’t even been this confident with boyfriends before but you know Steve, and you’ve been wanting more than a friendship for quite some time. Steve jerks off to you, it’s new information that makes this almost impossible not to act on. It inflates your ego, makes your heart swell twice in size. Because the implication, he knows you better than anyone else, clearly the attraction has to be more than purely physical.

He doesn’t reply, swallows hard again and just stares up at you. His big brown eyes look hazy, aroused and you can feel that he is where your ass is sat against his crotch. He can’t deny he’s turned on. And you wiggle against him, to silently tell him you are too. Fuck, he’s your best friend. How long as he felt this way? Because you’re sure you’ve been in love with him for years. And to find out this way? Not to mention that he seems to be reacting to you calling him a pervert.

You shove the panties up against his nose, “You totally do. You sniff these and stare at the picture while you jerk off! You’re such a perv, Steve!”

He writhes against you, moaning pathetically against the cotton.

“That’s disgusting,” you laugh, playing the part and he whines this time, closes his eyes and sniffs the panties. it’s so hot, and embarrassing at the same time. You’re almost at a loss for words but he seems to like when you make fun of him. “You’re so pathetic, oh my god.”

He opens his eyes, begging you silently. You inhale sharply before continuing. “Bet they don’t even smell like me anymore. I’ve been missing these for months,” you comment, shoving them against his nose once more before standing up. Steve watches you intently, frozen on the ground. You slide the pair of panties you’re currently wearing down your thighs, kicking them off and picking them up before you straddle Steve again. You can feel how soaked they are in your palm. So you shove them against his nose, giggling as you ask, “They used to smell like this?”

Steve’s eyes widen before they roll back as he inhales your scent, no doubt feeling how wet they are.

“You like that?” you laugh cruelly, “god, steve. i didn’t know you were such a sad, pathetic pervert.”

“fuck,” he moans, rolling his hips up at you and the rough denim catches against your clit, pulls a noise from you that has your eyes widening and your dominant demeanor faltering as you grind back down on him. Steve’s eyes meet yours and Christ, he looks pretty and desperate.

“You like me telling you what a perv you are, huh?” you ask.

“yeah,” he breathes out, hands closing into fists by his sides as he rolls his hips up again.

you gasp, trying to maintain composure as his jeans run against your clit again. you wonder if steve can feel how wet you are, if you’re soaking through his denim.

“such a pathetic loser,” you mutter, rubbing your soiled panties against his face, “so desperate for your best friend. wanna taste? go ahead, pervert, taste them.”

with your permission, steve opens his mouth and licks against your underwear. you shove them against him harder and he closes his lips around a bit of them, sucking your juices from the fabric. Moans when he does it, which makes you grind down harder against him.

“bet you’ve been dreaming about the real thing,” you breathe out, “huh, Stevie? you stroke your cock and imagine licking my pussy?”

“mhm,” he replies, still sucking on the cotton. his eyes are so wide and pretty as he stares up at you.

“such a loser,” you pout, tilting your head as you watch him. “think you deserve it?”

“please,” he begs, rolls his hips again.

“desperate for my pussy, aren’t you?” you ask but it’s funny, because you’re desperate for him.

Steve keens, jerks his hips up as his hands venture towards your hips before he drops them back at his sides. Like he’s nervous to touch you. You lean down, tossing your underwear aside as you hover your lips over his. Then you whisper, “Do you wanna eat me out, Steve?”

“Please don’t be fucking with me,” he replies, all soft and wrecked.

“That a yes?” you retort, licking your lips.

He nods, the motion makes his lips graze slightly against yours and it’s difficult not to kiss him. But your core is aching, just the idea of his gorgeous mouth on your heat has you a little feral and you rut down against him before inching up.

“Can I sit on your face, Stevie?” you ask, voice coming out more wrecked than you’d intended. Sounds weird on your ears. Didn’t know you could sound so sultry.

“Please,” he begs, writhing underneath you. “Fuck, please, pretty please sit on my face.”

You’re languid with the motion, pulling your skirt up as you climb up him and into position. He’s staring at your cunt, lips parted and pupils as wide as saucers. Licks his lips and you giggle, peering down at him as you begin to speak, “Look so desperate…”

He replies by wrapping his hands around your thighs and pulling you down on him. His mouth is warm and wet and determined. Steve elicits a moan as soon as he makes contact and it sends vibrations through your whole body. You gasp, holding your skirt up with your left hand while you push his hair off his forehead with the other. Steve is working his mouth on your cunt like he’s making out with it, tongue lashing and lips sucking all while he stares up at you and keeps moaning against your folds. You’ve had other men eat you out before but never like this. Never so determined, never seemed to be enjoying it so much.

There were rumors about Steve, you’d heard girls talk about this. You’d always feigned disgust. He was your best friend, you didn’t wanna hear about his bedroom skills. But deep down, you’d always wondered what he did differently. You haven’t ever had the urge to brag about the men you’d been with. They’d all been pretty mediocre.

The difference is Steve loves this. He’s hungry for it. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, keeping you firmly against his mouth and he’s… he’s moving his head with the motions. Groaning into you.

Your lips fall open, brows knitting together as your fingers tug at the roots of his hair. Staring down at your gorgeous best friend as he devours you. Then his hands move up, snaking under the hem of your shirt and he unclasps your bra in quick time, impressing you briefly before his hands move knead and grope at your breasts. With the grip on your thighs gone, you’re able to move your hips and they grind down on his face on their own volition. Fuck, you’re trying to keep quiet but it’s hard. His tongue flicks against your clit, flat and repetitive as his fingers swirl around your pebbled nipples. You whine, riding his face as you chase your high. The deep, tight coil in your stomach is threatening to snap at any second. You don’t think you’ve ever cum so fast in your life.

“God, you fucking pervert,” you whine, writhing against his mouth, “Feels so fucking good.”

Steve moans his appreciation, eyes rolling back slightly. He pinches your nipple and you’re a goner. Eyes squeezing shut as bright stars of light dance around behind your lids. Steve’s taking it well, sucking and licking up all that you give him. Doesn’t stop until you’re pulling off of him and rolling onto your back beside him. You’re breathing heavily and it quickly turns into pleasure fueled giggles. Then Steve’s reaching for your hand and lacing your fingers, squeezing.

“So, uh, now you know my biggest secret,” he breathes out, and you turn to see the sweetest smile on his face.

You smirk, “That you’re a sick pervert? I did know that already.”

He flushes, turning and shoving his face against your neck. You roll over to wrap your hand around his middle and squeeze him. Your mouth against his ear as you whisper, “I uh, also touch myself to you. Just like thoughts though, not uh, not pictures.”

“I get it,” he mumbles, “I’m a giant perv.”

“You are,” you giggle, “But I like it. Should’ve known it when I wore that bikini and you said it reminded you of phoebe cates.”

Steve laughs at that, “Yeah, you’re kind of oblivious.”

“Shut up, perv,” you reply, moving your hand lower and palming against his cock strained by his jeans, “Or I won’t help you get rid of this.”

“Oh, you wanna help?” Steve asks, the humor wavering as he rocks his hips up at your hand.

“Uh-huh,” you pull back just slightly, so you can look at his face while you unbutton his jeans. He helps you get them down his thighs, briefs following suit. You lick your palm before wrapping your fingers around his cock, glancing down and gasping. Fuck, he’s huge. Your eyes dart back up to his face and he’s smiling, all cocky. He knows it’s big. You’re sure he’s been told so a hundred times so you don’t say anything. You squeeze him while gazing into his beautiful brown eyes, you’d always loved how they sloped just slightly down. And they were so big and wide, so expressive. They are right now as you start to slowly stroke him. He blinks rapidly, licking his lips.

“Can’t believe you look at a photo of me while you jack off,” you mumble, “Seriously, Steve. It’s pretty pathetic.”

There go those expressive eyes, full of arousal— desperation. You don’t avert yours as you squeeze his base, slow and deliberate as you stroke up and swipe your thumb against his weeping tip. You raise an eyebrow, “You get this wet when you’re jerking off to me?”

He whines, bites his lip as his eyebrows furrow. Looks so sweet and needy. It’s the prettiest Steve’s ever looked.

“It’s pathetic because Stevie, you could’ve had me this whole time,” you mumble against his lips, fingers spreading his precum down his shaft and he’s really so wet, you can hear it as you stroke him up and down. Making sure to squeeze where it counts, base and head. Repeatedly. He whines against you. Bucks his hips because you’re going too slow. So you pull your hand away, “Ah-ah, you need to be a good boy for me, Steve.”

He whimpers, music to your ears, “I’ll be good, I’ll be good. Don’t stop, baby.”

The pet name warms you all over. Can’t help but grip his cock again, stroking him more deliberately this time. He whines, all high pitched and pretty against your lips. You give up the teasing, determined to get your best friend off. Curving your palm on every upstroke, whispering against his lips, “Cum for me, baby. Show me what a sick, little pervert you are.”

Steve groans, moves his hand up to cup your jaw as he bucks his hips again. But you let him. Let him fuck your fist. His mouth falls open in a silent moan as he coats your hand in his release, eyes squeezing shut. It’s so hot, you feel your own slick coating your thighs from it.

You let go of him, he rolls on his back and smiles as he sighs, eyes still closed. You clean his mess up with your skirt, a problem to deal with at another time. And for the first time in your friendship, you and Steve are absolutely speechless. Laying side by side. But he’s the one to break the silence.

“Should we like, make out now?” he asks, propping himself on his elbow as he looks down at you, “Ya know, so it’s not weird.”

“Yeah, cus that’s what would make this not weird,” you tell him but you hook a leg over his waist and straddle him, grabbing onto his face and kissing him stupid anyways.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x female reader smut

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half-oz-eddie · 2 months

Text

🎁 ❤️

Max was not supposed to be in Billy’s room. She knew better.

But it was 7:30 AM and she really wanted to leave something for him on his desk.

She quietly crept in, sliding her slim frame through the ajar door and tiptoed to his desk to gently place something on it.

“The hell’re you doing?” A groggy voice startled her.

She should’ve expected the hyper-vigilant teen to wake up while she was there.

“I was—I just wanted t-to leave something here for you.” She nervously stammered.

He narrowed his sleepy eyes at her. “Give it here.”

Max slowly walked over, handing the surprise to Billy.

It slowly exchanged hands and Billy examined it closely.

“I-I know you don’t have a record player but I saw the posters in your room and I thought you’d want to—like—have something to collect. So Steve drove me to a record store to get you a vinyl.”

He stared at the Mötley Crüe vinyl for a few moments, then handed it back to Max. “Put it on my desk.” He said as he laid back down.

“Y-you don’t like it?” She frowned.

“Never said I didn’t. I’m just tired.”

Max slowly walked back over to his desk and set the vinyl down.

“Why’d you buy that for me?” He asked.

“Don’t you know what today is? It’s your—“

“I know that.” He said in a snippy voice. “I’m asking why the hell you bought me anything. You never cared before.”

“Well, last year, I tried to buy you something with my allowance and my mom said Neil would be mad if I used my money on you, so she wouldn’t take me to the mall.”

“And you said Harrington drove you? Why the hell did he do that?” Billy continued to question.

“We had a long talk about that night at the Byers and we came to a realization of how unfair we were being to you. So I—I didn’t wanna lose you forever. We don’t get along but like, we had our moments, where we’d talk to each other a little bit. Now we don’t speak at all.”

“You stabbed me with a needle.”

“You were gonna kill Steve if I didn’t stop you.” Max sighed. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“You don’t need to be. But whatever, guess I’m sorry too.”

Max smiled. “I’ll let you sleep. Happy birthday.”

She closed the door behind her upon exiting and went back to her bed.

It was nearly 11AM when Max woke up again. Neil and Susan were already at work. Susan left a note behind with instructions for heating up lunch.

This year, there was no school on Billy’s birthday, so Max decided to heat up the lunch for both of them.

She set down two plates just in time, as she heard Billy resurfacing from his room.

He stepped through the quiet house and stopped by the table, glaring at Max.

“Nobody’s home?”

“No. Mom left lunch for us, so I heated it up.”

Billy looked down at the chicken Parmesan. Susan normally only made it for holidays, but Easter wasn’t until Sunday.

Max figured it was Susan’s subtle way of giving Billy a little something special for his birthday.

“There were some breadsticks too.” Max mentioned, grabbing them out of the toaster oven. “I put some of that garlic and herb stuff on them because I remembered that you like it.”

Billy glared at Max as she started eating.

“What?” She asked with her mouth half full.

Billy shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Nothin’. Forget it.”

They ate in complete silence. Billy finished first and got up from the table without a word.

Max didn’t expect much conversation from Billy, but he wasn’t as unpleasant as he could’ve been, so it was fine.

She washed the dishes and sat back down at the table reading a magazine when Billy returned once more with his jacket on.

“C’mon.”

“Where’re we going?”

“Somewhere. I can’t leave you here by yourself. Susan and dad would bitch about it.”

Max grabbed her jacket and slipped on some shoes, then followed Billy to his car.

The drive was brief and they stopped at the quarry.

To Max’s surprise, Billy invited her to sit on the hood of his car. He offered her a soda and cracked open a beer for himself.

They clinked their cans together and drank as they quietly watched the early afternoon scenery.

“It’s surprisingly warm today.” Max initiated small talk.

“I think the groundhog saw its shadow—or didn’t see its shadow—or whichever meant a late winter.”

“It’s…when he sees his shadow.” She paused. “I think.”

Billy snorted. “Why are we listening to a big ass rodent about the weather anyway?”

Max softly giggled. “Tradition, I guess.”

“Yeah, well, it’s stupid.” He mumbled in response as he brought the beer can to his lips.

Silence returned again, and Billy glanced over at Max.

“So y’said Harrington drove you to the record store. That’s like…across town.”

“I wasn’t alone with him, if that’s what you’re worried about. Dustin and Lucas went too.”

Billy quickly responded with a scoff. “What’s so great about Harrington anyway? You defended him over me that night—“

“Is that what made you so upset?”

“No. But you defended him and I’m asking about it.”

“Well, he’s really nice. He looks after all my friends, everyone around town knows him and his family—“

“So he’s just the opposite of me.”

“W—I—I mean, you’re nice sometimes. You’ve been nice to me 4 times and I remember them all.”

Billy shrugged. “Yeah. Anyway, thanks for the gift, shitbird.”

“You better get me something nice for my birthday too!”

“When is it again? April…may…tember…”

“July.” She snapped.

Billy laughed. “I know when your birthday is, don’t be such a baby.”

“I’m not.” She fired back. “You’re just a jerk.”

“And?”

Max scoffed. “You’re so lucky it’s your birthday or I’d—“

“You’d what?”

Max chugged her soda and tossed the empty can at Billy.

“You piece of shit. You’re dead!”

Max jumped off the hood of Billy’s car and ran off laughing, with Billy not too far behind.

When Billy finally caught up to Max, he chugged his beer and tossed the can at Max.

The out of breath siblings glared at one another, before their expressions softened and they began to laugh.

“Hey, d’you wanna go to the movies or something?” Max offered. “I’ll buy you popcorn.”

“And I get to pick the movie?”

Max groaned. “Fine.”

“You know I pick better movies than you do, anyway.”

“Bullshit! Your movie choices suck ass!”

The two bickered all the way back to Billy’s car. Sure, this was a nice day, but Billy couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t stop thinking about Steve Harrington driving his little sister across town to get him a gift.

‘Maybe I should thank him too…’

#billy and max #billy hargrove #max mayfield #steve harrington #harringrove #ivy.doc #calikids.doc

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art · 2 years

Photo

Creator Spotlight: Pablo Lobato

Pablo Lobato was born in Trelew, Patagonia, Argentina, in April 1970. He studied graphic design at Universidad Nacional de La Plata, as well as Painting and Engraving. He moved to Buenos Aires to work as a graphic designer in the editorial field. After five years, he got bored and decided to give one more chance to his true love: portraits. Represented by Anna Goodson, he started working as a collaborator in magazines and newspapers: Rolling Stone, The New Yorker, Wired, New York Times, Entertainment Weekly, TV Guide, and The Village Voice, among others. His work has been featured in Illustration Now Vol.3 and Portraits! by Taschen editorial. Lobato has taken part in numerous collective exhibits in Argentina, the United States, Italy, Chile, and Portugal.

Check out our interview with Pablo below!

Can you take us through a day in the life of working on a project like Wendell & Wild?

I worked on this project during the lockdown because of the COVID pandemic, so I was home all of the time. My days consisted of zooms with director Henry Selick, work, play with the kids, work, make dinner, watch a series on Netflix, work, and more work. While everyone was trying to figure out what to do with their free time, I was working like never before.

What was the inspiration behind the character designs in Wendell & Wild, and which character was the most challenging or interesting to develop?

Each character was inspired by different people or things. Wendell and Wild are caricatures of Keegan Michael Key, and Jordan Peele. The inspiration for Kat was a blend between the Afropunk movement and ancient African masks. Manberg could be an Israeli Marlon Brando.

What do you wish you had known when you first started out creating art that you know now?

How to be a character designer!!! This was my first time, so I had to learn in the process.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

I find myself looking for new things all the time, finding new directions to go in, and making mistakes.

How many unfinished/WIP pieces do you have? Care to share a sneak peek..?

Hundreds!!!!!

How has your style developed over the years?

At the beginning, my work was very sketchy—very rough. Then, I started using the computer, and everything was cleaner and more geometric. Now, I think I’m going back to more organic shapes.

What does your work set up look like?

It’s a mess. Please don’t ask me for pictures. I will never show it.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

It was a big change when I first started using the computer. But technology keeps growing, and I’m using the same old software as 20 years ago.

Who or what on Tumblr inspires you and why?

I appreciate the diversity that Tumblr has. Thousands and thousands of different art projects popping in front of your eyes. It’s like a brainstorm on your screen.

Thank you so much for stopping by, Pablo! Check out his work with Netflix’s Wendell & Wild over at @netflix!

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #pablo lobato #wendell and wild #netflix

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rhoorl · 8 months

Text

Turbulence | Part One

Pairing: Frankie x reader

Word Count: 3.6k

AO3 Link

Summary: Your fear of flying is quelled when a handsome stranger sits next to you.

Warnings: Fear of flying, mention of a helicopter crash, and turbulence. Mention of CBD use, allusion to a bad past relationship. If there’s something else I need to add here let me know!

A/N: I took some liberties with some of the aviation stuff for the sake of the story. Aside from Delta Landscaping, this is my first time writing a solo Frankie piece, so I'm a little nervous!

"What time do you land?"

"Well, assuming I take off on time, we should land around 4:30. By the time I get off the plane and go to baggage claim and everything it will be like 5 at the earliest. But seriously, I don't mind waiting until you're done with work. Take your time."

"Ok, sweetie. I talked with Jeff and he said I could leave a few minutes early today…I have to say, I love having a millennial as a boss!"

I can't help but roll my eyes when Mom talks like this. Jeff treats her like a human being rather than a cog in the corporate wheel. Honestly, it makes me sad to think about the shit she had to deal with as a working mom when I was younger and the bosses who were less than flexible. I still remember the day I was throwing up at the nurse's office when I was in middle school and her boss wouldn't let her leave because she hadn't requested time off in advance.

"Well, that's nice of Jeff, but honestly I can wait. I'll probably need to hit up the airport bar to deal with the stress of the flight."

"I know you hate flying sweetheart, but luckily it's short. You’ll be here before you know it."

"Yeah, well…I made it to my gate so I'm going to sit here for a bit before we board. I love you."

"Love you too sweetie. Text me when you land!"

Moving to Atlanta was a big step in my career, but it also unfortunately meant I traveled more for work since I was so close to a major airport. I used to be fine with flying when I was little, but ever since that one flight when I was in college I've developed a lot of anxiety around it. I was flying back home when I experienced the worst turbulence of my life. I can still vividly remember coming out of my seat, the seatbelt was the only reason I didn't fly up to the ceiling unlike a few people a couple of rows in front of me. People were filming it, others were trying to frantically call their loved ones, convinced we weren’t going to land safely.

Needless to say, the event was traumatizing and it took me years to fly again. The only reason I do it is because of work - I prefer to drive whenever I can. Unfortunately, this trip was a bit of an exception since I was flying down for my cousin’s wedding. I had an 8 a.m. meeting on Monday, so it was too tight of a window to drive down, thus forcing me to fly.

Because I traveled so much, I started experimenting with various methods to calm my nerves. I recently started dabbling with CBD and it seemed to be working. I had a bit of a ritual when it came to flying. I would arrive at the airport early with plenty of time to check any bags and make it to my gate. I’d buy a SmartWater from one of the shops and grab a People magazine to page through. I’d then take some of my gummies so that they would take their intended effect while I was in the air.

I already had collected my water and magazine and started rifling through my bag to find my gummies. They weren’t in the normal place I packed them, so I started checking a few more pockets.

"Shit," I sighed.

I was in such a rush to get out of the door this morning, I must have left them on my kitchen counter. Knowing that I didn’t have them and I was without my safety net made the anxiety sweep over me like a wave. I suddenly felt helpless and was trying to not panic, despite the fact that I could feel my pulse quicken.

"Is everything okay?"

I look up and see a man looking at me, his big chocolate brown eyes fixed on me, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"Uh, yeah…actually no…I'm not the best flyer."

I feel so silly admitting that to anyone, I’m a grown-ass woman who has traveled enough to earn Silver Medallion status on Delta for fuck’s sake. I also feel silly admitting a flaw of mine to a guy like this. If someone asked me to describe my type it’s him. Although he was sitting, he seemed rather tall, with broad shoulders, the kindest eyes, an earnest smile, and the most beautiful curls poking out of his blue baseball cap. On top of his obvious good looks, he also seemed really sweet and intuitive, a combination I rarely encounter.

"Flying is actually safer than driving a car, you know."

"I've heard that, still doesn't help."

"You headed to Tampa?" He nodded over to the gate.

"Yeah, I am."

"Me too," he smiled. "I'm Frankie."

Okay, his smile was adorable too. And the way his eyes crinkled. I need to snap out of it, this guy is just being nice, but I still give him my name and shake his hand.

"Look, ah, I don't mean to be forward or anything, but if you want to sit together…I'm a pilot, so I'd be happy to uh, talk you through it. The turbulence that is."

His eyes flit from my eyes to my lips and back.

I can't tell if it's my imagination or I’m projecting, but I feel like he’s flirting with me…it’s been so long, I honestly forgot what it was like but fuck it, let’s see where this goes.

"Really? You fly planes?"

"Oh ah, well, I actually fly helicopters but I went to flight school and know the general gist of it."

"Oh wow, helicopters. I can't say I've ever been in one of those before. That seems scarier than a plane."

"Not when I'm the one flying," he winked as he rubbed his thumb along his lower lip, leaning forward, resting his forearm on his knee.

Yup, he's definitely flirting with me. This may be a better distraction than any gummy could provide me.

“So ah, what boarding group do you have?”

He pulled out a paper ticket, which was so endearing. “Hmm, looks like I’m in B, B10. Do you fly Southwest a lot? I hardly ever do and it seems stressful,” he laughed.

“No, I typically fly Delta for work. But when I go home I fly Southwest, the flight times are better. I’m in A…A34.”

“Oh fancy. You should save me a seat,” he smirked. “Try going for a row over the wings. You'll like it more, it's where you find the smoothest ride.”

I know he didn’t mean anything by that last phrase but my mind resides in the gutter most of the time, and with a hot guy flirting with me it’s even worse.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will be boarding flight 3519 with service to Tampa out of gate C21 here shortly. At this time, I’d like to ask all guests in boarding group A to please line up in numerical order.”

“Well, looks like that’s my cue. I’ll hopefully see you in there?”

“Yeah sounds good,” he gave me a smile as I got up. He thought he was being coy, but I caught the way his eyes trailed down my body as I gathered my things.

Boarding was uneventful and as I stepped foot on the plane I did my customary glance into the cockpit to see the pilots. I don’t know what I think I’m accomplishing by doing this, but it gives me some peace of mind to see who has my life in their hands for the next hour or so. I remember what Frankie told me and I head for the middle of the plane, opting for the exit row. I found an empty row that had only two seats so I decided to take it and see what happens. I lay my backpack in the seat next to me hoping it would deter someone from taking it.

I watch more and more people board. The exit rows were popular, only a couple of seats remained open, the one next to me included. I was trying not to get my hopes up, but the thought of sitting next to a handsome stranger, who apparently knew his shit about planes and flying, seemed like a great way to spend the flight.

His hat was the first thing I saw as he turned the corner to board the plane. My eyes found him and he gave me a nod and a smile and I felt butterflies in my stomach. He was getting closer and closer to my row, not taking his eyes off of me.

“Excuse me, is someone sitting there sweetheart?”

I look up and see what I can only describe as a total sleazeball leering at me.

“Um, I-”

“Oh honey, there you are! Hey man, sorry I was hoping I could sit with my wife, she’s terrified of flying. I was a dumbass and didn’t check in on time so we weren’t able to get our boarding numbers close together. Hey baby,” Frankie nodded at me, giving the man a look that was equal parts friendly and threatening.

“Sure man, yeah.” The man seemed annoyed but kept on walking back.

“Thanks, man, I appreciate it,” Frankie bent down to give me a kiss on the cheek to keep the rouse up. I felt my face getting hot, my cheeks had to be turning all sorts of colors from embarrassment. “Sorry about that, I just didn’t think he’d be the best seatmate,” he whispered as he sat down and put his seatbelt on.

“Well I appreciate it, that guy gave me the creeps.”

“I’m sure your uh boyfriend probably wouldn’t be too keen on a random guy giving you a kiss on the cheek,” he smirked.

“Oh, I don’t have a boyfriend…or anyone. I…I’m single.”

Why the fuck am I being so awkward right now?

“Ah, I see. Sorry, when you were on the phone out there I heard you say I love you, so I just figured…”

“That was my mom,” I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes, I’m in my mid-30’s and I call my mom before I get on a plane.”

“Nothing wrong with that. Hell, if my mom was still alive I’d probably do the same thing,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

The rest of the plane boarded and the flight attendants checked the cabin. As the plane pushed back from the gate I double-checked to make sure my phone was in airplane mode.

“Hello from the flight deck, we’ve been cleared for departure. Once we get in the air, we’ll share more about the weather in Tampa. But in the meantime please sit back, relax, and enjoy your one hour and 25-minute flight down to Tampa.”

I checked the weather forecast this morning and it looked like the typical Florida afternoon storms were going to pop up. The thought of flying during a storm made my anxiety ratchet up, so I started to self-soothe by rubbing my palms up and down my thighs.

“Hey, you alright?” Frankie whispers over to me.

“Uh, yeah…I mean, no. No. I’m not fine. There’s weather down in Tampa, why didn’t he mention that, it’s probably going to mean a bumpy ride, why wouldn’t he warn us about it beforehand-”

“Hey, hey,” Frankie grabbed my hand. “Shh, it’s ok. He’s probably waiting to get the latest from air traffic control and other planes en route. It’ll be fine, I promise. Just breathe. Does taking off make you nervous?”

I was finding it hard to talk, so I just nodded.

“Ok, I get it, take off can be scary. Just keep holding my hand. Squeeze it as hard as you need to, I promise it won’t hurt. Just keep breathing. Do you have any water?”

“Y-yea, in my bag.”

“I’ll grab it for you. I see it, I’m gonna let go of your hand real quick to grab it, okay?” I nod. “Ok, here you go,” he unscrews the bottle and hands it to me, returning his hold on my hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth along the back of my hand.

I take a long drink and do some deep breathing. I have to admit that it’s pretty comforting to not be alone and have someone next to me, holding my hand. My ex used to always make fun of my fear of flying, saying I had to grow up. By this point in the flight he would have either had his AirPods in or he’d be faking that he was asleep.

The plane comes to a stop at the end of the runway and then starts its acceleration. For some reason, I always tried to visualize a gymnast running down toward the vault to try and track the plane’s journey down the runway. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, I feel Frankie’s hand tighten around mine.

“You’re doing great, we’re almost in the sky. Hard part is almost over.”

Just like that, I feel the plane lift off the ground, my stomach dropping a bit at the change. Frankie’s firm grasp doesn’t falter, in fact, I feel him bring his other hand to my knee, rubbing circles as I keep my eyes clenched shut as the plane continues its ascent. He continued to talk to me, explaining the different gears and engines, and telling me what certain sounds meant.

It’s hard to keep track of how much time passes, but eventually, I hear a ding and open my eyes to see the fasten seatbelt sign turned off. The flight attendant comes on and tells everyone that we reached our cruising altitude and that we can use any large approved electronic devices.

“I’m sorry, I feel like I probably am cutting off the circulation in your hand,” I laugh as Frankie brings his other hand back to rest in his lap.

“Oh it’s really fine, I don’t mind.”

I reluctantly let go of my grip and he retracts his hand, taking his hat off to run his fingers through his hair before returning the cap to the top of his head. In the brief moment he was sans hat I clocked the luscious curls he was hiding and thought about how it would feel like to run my fingers through his hair.

“Thank you, by the way. You’ve been so sweet this whole time. Don’t feel like you have to babysit me.”

“It’s ok. I’m good with talking if you want to, but I won’t be offended if you want to throw on music or a movie or something.”

Now he was the one who appeared nervous, which was pretty cute.

I turn my body so I’m facing him, “it’s such a short flight, I’d hate to start a movie and not finish it. We can talk, I think that would be nice.”

“Yea?” His face lit up.

We spent the next almost hour talking about all sorts of things. He told me that he used to be in the military, and he has three friends who he served with that he still keeps in contact with. It sounded like Santiago was his best friend in the group, but he spoke fondly of the other two men as well, I think they are brothers.

I told him about my family in Tampa and how I grew up there. He’s lived there for a few years now, he fills me in on some of the new restaurants that have popped up that he likes. I learned that he was actually on a connecting flight, he started his day flying from Dallas to Atlanta. He was in Texas visiting family – he has an older sister who has two children. It was so cute hearing him talk about his niece and nephew. He even showed me a few photos on his phone from his trip.

It also helped that the flight was smooth, there was hardly a bump. I couldn’t believe what an amazing trip this had been from the unlikely encounter with Frankie who turned out to be a super nice and very single man.

I check my watch and see there is about half an hour left.

“Ladies and gentlemen, from the flight deck, we’re going to ask our flight attendants to clean the cabin and prepare it for landing a bit sooner so they can take their seats. We’re expecting a few bumps as we make our descent into the Tampa Bay area. Right now, winds are out of the north at 18 miles per hour, with gusts up to 30 miles an hour. There are some showers in the area, but it looks like a lot of the severe weather is south of us at the moment. We’ll have you on the ground in about half an hour. Flight attendants, please prepare the cabin for arrival.”

As soon as I heard the captain say that the flight attendants were going to need to take their seats sooner than normal, I didn’t hear the rest of his message. I immediately started to panic, flashing back to the turbulence I experienced all of those years ago.

“Hey, it’s going to be ok. I know it may feel like the captain is losing control of the plane, but I promise you turbulence doesn’t cause crashes…I should know.”

“W-what do you mean, you should know?”

Frankie’s hand immediately comes back to mine. “I…uh, I’ve crashed before.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t scary if you were the one flying.”

The bumps were starting to pick up, and I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut, hoping time would speed up so I could get safely on the ground.

“Ah, well…there were some…extenuating circumstances, it wasn’t entirely my fault. Well, actually it was my fault as the pilot I should have known better but …it doesn’t matter. I’m here, right?”

“I know you’re trying to be comforting, but talking about a helicopter crash while we’re experiencing severe turbulence is kind of the opposite of what I need right now.”

“Right, sorry. And uh…not to minimize it, but we’re actually experiencing light turbulence right now.”

I opened my eyes slightly to glare at him, but I couldn’t be mad at him, he was trying to help calm me down and he was giving me these sweet puppy dog eyes.

“Sorry, I…uh…the pilot mentioned the winds. As we descend the wind is one of the reasons we feel the bumps. He’s actually been flying pretty well so far, so I know it will be fine, okay?” He squeezed my hand.

“Mhmm, yeah, sure whatever you say, captain.”

“Just keep breathing, you’re doing great. Only,” he checked his watch, “only about 20 more minutes and we’ll be on the ground.”

“Fuck. Twenty minutes?”

“I’m going to try and distract you, ok? Tell me about this wedding, what are you wearing?”

I opened my eyes enough to give him a narrow sarcastic glare. “You’re really taking advantage of me at my most vulnerable to ask what I’m going to be wearing?”

“I…uh…sorry, I-”

“I’m kidding Frankie,” how I managed to crack a joke amid the continued bumps is a testament to how safe I felt with this man. “I’m not in the bridal party or anything, so I got to pick my own dress. They’re getting married at the aquarium so I picked a blue dress. The color reminds me of the ocean.”

“Well, I’m sure that’s beautiful. What else.”

I continued giving him all of the minute details of the wedding including the drama between my aunts and why it was such a pain in the ass for my cousin to do the seating chart for the reception. I didn’t even realize we were slowly making our descent to the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught trees and buildings coming into view.

“Holy shit, we’re almost there.”

“We are, you’re doing amazing. Just a little longer.”

I laid my head back against the headrest and took some more deep breaths, my hand still enveloped in Frankie’s.

The wheels touch down and I let out an exhale and turn to Frankie.

“I honestly can’t thank you enough for this. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.”

“Well, I’m glad I was here then.” As he smiled at me and I felt a wave of sadness come over me, knowing that our time together was coming to an end.

“So, ah, is Santiago coming to pick you up?”

“That was the plan, but who knows with him, I actually should check my phone to see.” He pulls out his phone from his pocket, takes it off airplane mode, and waits for any messages or missed calls to flood in.

I take that cue to check my phone as well. I shoot off a text to Mom letting her know I landed safely.

Frankie shakes his head as he reads through messages on his phone.

“Everything ok?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, he’s going to be a little late but it’s all good.”

“Well, my ride is going to be a little late too. Wanna grab a drink? I owe you for putting up with me this whole time.”

He smiles at me and takes my hand again, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but it was honestly not a bother at all. You helped me get through the flight too. And, yeah, I’ll take you up on that drink.”

A/N: The idea for this popped up because I took a few plane rides this summer, with some turbulence on a couple of them. Hopefully, I did Frankie proud on this one...what do you think happens next?

#frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #francisco catfish morales #pedro pascal fanfic

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wynnyfryd · 1 year

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UPDATE: FINISHED IT!!

you can read the full fic here:

preview of my new fic Monsoon Season (in which i saw this tweet and immediately took it so, so personally)

“Harrington, are you fucking kidding me?” Eddie asks as he slams a magazine down in front of Steve, rattling the coffee cup perched on the edge of the little round table.

Monsoon Season, the headline reads. Just who is the man behind America’s hottest new book series?

Steve’s eyes are far too full of mirth for Eddie’s liking. “They think it’s you, don’t they?”

“Of course they think it’s me, you jackass.” Eddie snatches the magazine back, sniffing indignantly as Steve openly laughs at him.

Eddie doesn’t have a workplace nemesis — does his best not to participate in all the petty office politics that go on in the publishing world, thank you very much — but ohhh, boy. If he did. If he did have one, it would be this fucking guy.

Steve fucking Harrington. Former King of Hawkins High, Current Pain in Eddie’s Ass, and not even in the fun way.

See, three years ago Eddie finally got his first big break — topped charts, stole hearts, and broke records with his swashbuckling adventure series aimed at the 10-13 year old crowd. He hadn’t ever really planned to become a children’s author, but hey, turns out he’s great at spinning a tale that a fifth grader can’t put down. Kids love him, parents love him, and now—

Well, now, parents hate him. Are two seconds away from calling for his fucking head. And that’s the whole problem, isn’t it?

One group of ravenous mommy blogger watchdogs becomes unwaveringly convinced that beloved children’s author Eddie Munson is secretly writing filthy gay erotica under the pen name Freddie Monsoon, and now his whole career is in jeopardy.

It’s not even a good pen name.

“A source close to Munson assures us this scorching erotica can’t be his doing,” the article in Eddie’s claw-like grip reads. “‘He’s stupid,’ our source tells us with a bright laugh and a wink, ‘but not that stupid.’”

You know who is that fucking stupid, though?

“You’re still here?” Steve asks mildly while Eddie glares some more.

He knows the pen name belongs to Steve, because one, Chrissy’s a gossip and told him the second she found out, and two, King Shithead himself told Eddie to his face. Gloated about it in this very coffee shop, actually; smirked over the lip of a chai latte while angry mothers protested with homemade signs on the sidewalk outside of the building.

“Yes, I’m still here! Why the hell are you doing this to me, man?”

Does he know how many angry emails Eddie’s gotten in the last hour alone? Seriously, what the fuck?

Steve slides another glance his way — sideways through hooded lids, some sadistic delight gleaming just below the veneer. “Because I like it when you’re flustered,” he smirks, and then he stands to collect his things. “See you tomorrow, Munson.”

#steddie #steddie fic #modern au #crack treated seriously #steve harrington #eddie munson #feral little shit 4 feral little shit #the spiritual successor to TITS! magazine #like #cannot express how stupid this fic is gonna be i can’t wait #(if you saw me promise to focus on more chapters of stardust au no tf you didn’t 😂)#my writing #my fics

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givemea-dam-break · 4 months

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the calm before the storm

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎ in which circumstances pull two souls apart

pairing: anthony lockwood x (fem) reader

a/n: the angst queen is back. no apologies. i was craving writing another luke castellan fic, but decided it was about time i came back to the hyperfixation that began about this time last year (happy one year lockwood and co!!) so surprise!!! i'm not sorry for this, just so you know. enjoy!

warnings: canon typical violence, descriptions of murder, angst (as always)

words: 4.7K

taglist: @irisesforyoureyes @neewtmas @wellgoslowly @waitingforthesunrise @oblivious-idiot @jesslockwood @magicandmaybe @gotlostinfiction @ettadear @locklylemybeloved @aayeroace @mischiefmanaged71 @mirrorballdickinson @ikeasupremacy

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

01. the calm

There was a certain kind of peace when it came to 35 Portland Row at night.

The way the fire flickered, casting the library in a golden-orange glow and filling it with cosy warmth. How the kitchen always smelled like whatever wonderful meal George had made earlier in the day. The sound of the crackling fire and pages brushing against each other and creaky floorboards. They all compiled together to make it feel like home.

(y/n) sat curled up on one of the library’s armchairs, nose buried in one of the aged books. A steaming cup of tea sat on the coffee table beside a pile of senseless magazines - Lockwood’s guilty pleasure. He was thumbing his way through one just at that moment, and the cover - an edited photo of Penelope Fittes and Steve Rotwell with a big, bold-lettered caption “Inside the minds of the most treasured people in Britain!” - told her everything she needed to know.

“That stuff is going to rot your brain,” she murmured, turning the page of her book. “I don’t know how you can stand reading that gossip.”

Lockwood, still looking at the magazine before him, shot her a sideways grin. “You just don’t appreciate today’s culture.”

A laugh bubbled from her lips. “I appreciate it plenty when I’m not under threat of death from ghosts. I mean, seriously. How many times can you read about what colour dress Penelope Fittes wore to a gala, or the stupid things all those snotty old rich people keep saying?”

“You have to admit, they’re a little bit funny.”

“It’s funny how stupid the things they say are.”

Lockwood rolled his eyes, dog-earing a page before closing the magazine and setting it down atop the already massive pile. His head tilted as he looked over at her, face cast in that same golden-orange hue that basked the room. He looked positively ethereal.

“I have read plenty of books, too, you know,” he said, still smiling. “I just don’t find them as interesting.”

Raising an eyebrow, (y/n) slipped her tattered bookmark between the pages of her book, balancing it on the arm of her chair. She twisted slightly so that she could look at him in the other armchair.

“Have you ever considered joining a gossip circle?” she asked. “You know, the kind where all those old women meet up in a cafe and have a little blether about their drama? You’d fit right in. Have half of them charmed within minutes.”

His smile changed, then, shifting into the exact kind she had imagined him using to get into a little gossip session. “You think so?”

She snorted, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach. “Without a doubt. You’d have them convinced that, because Penelope wore a green dress to a gala and Steve Rotwell had a green tie, there is some kind of secret relationship between them. Secretly married, or some bosh like that.”

“Well,” Lockwood drawled, “just as well one of us has the skill of charm. If it were you doing interviews, we’d have no clients.”

She swept his magazine off the table and thwacked his arm with it. “If there was no one here to keep you alive, there’d be no business.”

He laughed then, and the sound was like music to her ears. If it was something she could bottle, she’d have a thousand vials of it collected. She could listen to him laugh all day, especially if she was the reason for such a beautiful sound.

With a playful kind of annoyance, she tossed the magazine back on the table. She might have imagined it, but Lockwood watched the movement with eagle-like attention, as if studying every move she made. Every face she pulled. The thought had her heart pounding a little faster.

“I wouldn’t be surprised by that idea, by the way.”

“What?” (y/n) tilted her head. “You being dead without me to save your ass? It’s a proven statement.”

Once more, he rolled his eyes. His smile would have buckled her knees had she been standing. “No. Penelope and Steve being secretly married. I’m going to cop that idea now. Just in case it’s true.”

“As long as I get the credit.”

“Always.”

02. before

“Another murder? Lockwood, do you ever think of broadening your horizons?”

Lockwood grinned, spreading out a few pages from different newspapers in front of him. “We seem to specialise in them. How many murdered ghosts have we successfully contained? Besides, the murderer of this one is unknown. I thought it’d be a fun challenge to see if we could figure out the perpetrator.”

“We have extremely different definitions of fun,” (y/n) grumbled, flipping open a folder full of dated documents. “Don’t you fancy something less… brutal? Someone who died of old age, maybe?”

“Boring,” he said, drawing out the vowels. “We’re Lockwood and Co! How else do we get in the papers without something like a murder?”

She watched the way his eyes seemed to gleam with a strange sort of joy and shook her head, holding back a smile. They most definitely had different definitions of fun.

“Maybe we can bake some really nice cakes,” she suggested. “Donate money to help stop homelessness? End world hunger?”

His smile then was so beautiful that it stole the breath from her lungs. “While those are wonderful suggestions - I do particularly like the thought of cakes - I think we can do much better by getting rid of some ghosts. Now! What have you found?”

They went on like that for a few more hours, passing taunts back and forth while noting down any points of interest from their research. Really, it would have been more beneficial to have George researching with them - he made sense of all the big, fancy words and mixed-up dates - but he was researching his own case with Lucy.

It was an interesting case, that much she had to give to Lockwood. A woman, named Fearne Watson, who had been killed in her home a mere four years prior, whose body was not found for another two days when her neighbour had come to drop off some food she had baked for her. Police had flooded the scene and all of the journalists from popular news sources managed to squeeze their way in, getting all the details they could wring out of anybody, including the poor neighbour. (y/n) could remember seeing a glimpse of it on the news, sitting in her mother’s living room, waiting for her father to come home from work. The body had been sealed in one of those black body bags. There was caution tape everywhere, tape that journalists and paparazzi seemed to ignore.

Her family had been interviewed, each of them grieving harder than the last. It was hard to read their heartfelt words. Her sister, who had practically raised her during their childhood while their single mother worked multiple jobs, was by far the most emotional. It was even worse seeing photos of her attendance at the funeral - her pure devastation at a private memorial being disrupted by paparazzi.

What had seemed like at least half of London’s population had ganged up on the press, after that. Some smaller companies were thrown out of business.

The biggest mystery of it all had been the murderer. Whoever had committed it had covered their tracks well: nobody had seen anyone in the home with the victim - though they had not been paying much attention, therefore it had been partially investigated - nor had they seen anybody leave. No weapon was left behind, which was no matter because, as it was later revealed, Fearne had not been killed with a weapon.

The autopsy reports had not been released to the public, but Lockwood’s charm and (y/n)’s bare-faced insistence managed to garner them the second-last piece to the puzzle.

“Hemlock poisoning,” (y/n) murmured. “What year are we in? 1623? Don’t people usually use, what, paracetamol nowadays?”

Lockwood’s eyes flitted over the document, trying to absorb as much information as possible. If DEPRAC found out they had weaselled their way into getting their hands on it, there would be trouble. They had a very limited amount of time with it.

“Would’ve been a painful death, I imagine,” he said. “It’s a paralytic - says here she died from suffocation. Her respiratory system was paralysed after her muscles seized, also paralysed.”

She shuddered, taking the sheet of paper when he offered it to her. It wasn’t long before she had to pass it back, insanely disturbed.

“You sure know how to pick a belter of a case,” she mumbled. “Next time, take George with you.”

He only smiled, more reassuring than anything else, and reached over, squeezing her hand. Sparks coursed through her veins at the touch, and she looked up at him, melting at the way he looked at her.

“We’ll be okay,” he promised. “We have each other.”

A smile curved her lips, and she squeezed his hand back. “Always.”

03. the storm

The chains were heavy in her hands, cold enough that the skin of her fingers and palms were beginning to hurt. The house itself was not cold quite yet, but iron had that effect.

Lockwood stared down at his thermometer before nodding. (y/n), gratefully, began laying down the chains in a circle, closing the ends in on each other. Lockwood set a lantern down in the centre but didn’t turn it on just yet.

“Eight degrees,” he said. “You ready?”

She pursed her lips, nodding.

“No sympathising with visitors this time,” he added, and while there was a smile curling his lips, she could feel the seriousness in his statement. She did have a history of it.

The house’s living room was large enough to fit two three-seater sofas, as well as a dining table tucked under the back window with six chairs. The walls were a dingy shade of beige. A large patterned rug, red as blood, covered a good portion of the dark wood floor. With a thumping heart, she knelt down and lifted up a small corner of the rug.

She took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow its beating. Nothing good would come from being in a panic. The slight tremor in her hands ceased. She was a well-versed agent, this was nothing! She had helped solve the mystery of Combe Carey Hall. She had solved dozens upon dozens of cases. One more murder was nothing.

But, as she pressed her hand flat against part of the floor, stained slightly darker than the rest, it became clear that she was wrong.

Time seemed to swell around her, spinning and spinning until she was crouched in a brighter version of the house. A version without the big rug and the dining table beneath the window. The walls were a beautiful shade of duck-egg blue. Photos hung in simple white frames, plants were dotted around the room in pots shaped like cats and hedgehogs and dinosaurs.

Music played softly, a song (y/n) recognised as one her mother used to listen to while she still lived at home. Someone was humming along.

A woman swept into view, one she recognised from the newspapers that did not do her beauty justice.

Fearne Watson’s auburn hair was swept over her shoulder in loose waves, glowing like fire in the sunlight. She had blue eyes that were ever-smiling, and her freckled cheeks were rosy. She was no older than twenty-five.

Another voice could be heard, feminine and soft. She was singing along to the song while Fearne mimicked the instruments. (y/n)’s parents had often done the same.

The second woman came into view, and (y/n) couldn’t help but smile. Her sister, Dahlia, brushed over, gently taking Fearne’s hands in hers. They spun for a few moments, dancing along to the song. When it ended, they laughed and laughed, sipping from delicate teacups.

“Mm! What kind of tea is this?” Fearne asked, smiling. “Tastes very floral. It’s not jasmine, is it?”

Dahlia smiled, too, watching her sister with soft eyes. “Something like that.”

A terrible feeling began to settle in (y/n)’s bones. The thoughts building in the back of her mind began to come to fruition, and as she watched, she could feel her blood running cold. There was a terrible, nauseous lump in her throat. The police had thought nobody had been home with Fearne.

Fearne’s hand brushed her throat lightly. There was a faint sheen on her brow. “Did you add parsley to this? It’s got a bit of a weird taste.”

Her sister merely shook her head. She had not drank any of her tea.

“Dal, this - this doesn’t taste right.”

Dahlia tilted her head just so slightly. She did not seem concerned. “Oh?”

It was then that it began. The drawn-out death.

Fearne’s skin took on a pale tint, coated in a layer of sweat. The teacup dropped from her hand, smashing on the hardwood floor. Dahlia swept it up, disposing of it in the bin beside the sofa. She watched her sister closely, bright eyes narrowed as Fearne’s limbs took on a rigid look. She slumped on the sofa, panic flaring in her eyes.

She was struggling to speak, lips coated in her own saliva. She managed one word. “Why?”

Dahlia did not respond to her question. “Hemlock tastes very similar to parsley,” she murmured, standing as her sister began shaking, trying to suck in as much air as she could. “It was a shame things ended like this.”

The question, Why? hung in the air, unanswered. But the glaring look in Dahlia’s eyes revealed truer feelings than she had expressed in interviews. She resented her sister. Wholly and irrevocably. Why exactly she hated her was left a mystery hidden by a cruel smile.

(y/n) was torn from the vision as Fearne’s face began to turn purple, her lungs failing. She was saved from the horror of watching her die.

Lockwood was crouched in front of her when the present world began to melt back around her, his copper-and-caramel eyes taking the place of the sofa Fearne’s body had slumped upon.

His hands were on her face, warm and calloused. “You okay?” he asked gently. “Need any water?”

She shook her head, goosebumps rising across the skin of her arms. “It was her sister.”

“What?” Lockwood frowned, hands slipping from her cheeks to rest on the skin between her shoulders and neck. His touch made her shiver. “The newspapers -”

“They got it wrong,” she said. There was a bitter taste in her mouth. “She - she put hemlock in their tea. She murdered her own sister. She lied to the journalists. I can’t even begin to understand -”

Her voice fell flat. In some space in the back of her mind, she was vaguely aware of Lockwood speaking, trying to draw her attention back to him, but all she could focus on were the whispers. The glow.

A few feet behind Lockwood, there was a faint shimmer in the air, akin to how heat shimmered above pavements in summer. But this was all wrong. This was the dead end of winter. This was inside a house, where that kind of heat didn’t appear anywhere but the oven. This shimmer was glowing.

At first, it was no more than that - a shimmer - but the features soon developed. Long auburn hair. Freckled cheeks. Down-turned eyes and a wide nose bridge.

“Fearne…”

Lockwood’s hands were on her face again, trying to get her to look at him. “What? (y/n), talk to me.”

Dahlia, said the apparition with such spite that (y/n) could taste it. Bitter and pungent and poisonous. Dahlia.

She sounded out the name as if speaking to a child and teaching them syllables. Her very voice, strained of air and yet still, somehow, melodic, had her frozen on the spot.

“Fearne,” she uttered again. She could not move.

Perhaps had she not felt such sympathy for their visitor's circumstance, she would not have found herself ghost-locked. Perhaps she would have been standing already, rapier in one hand and a salt bomb in the other, prepared to hold her off whilst Lockwood found her source. Or, no, really it would be the other way around - Lockwood would never let her fight a ghost on her own, his pride and needless urge to protect were a killer. So maybe she would have been searching for that source by now. Maybe she would have found it already.

But it felt as though her joints had locked up, preventing her from moving at all. Her eyes could focus only on the shape of Fearne Watson’s ghost and not Lockwood, who she would much rather have been looking at.

He seemed to realise then what was happening, standing as he spun around to face the ghost. His rapier was drawn in mere seconds, angled towards her purple, glowing face. Her teeth were bared in some gruesome excuse of a smile that creased her tear-stained cheeks.

“(y/n).” His voice was steely as he looked ahead at the ghost, hiding any of the fear she wasn’t entirely sure he ever felt so as to not empower the ghost. “I need you to find the source. Snap out of it.”

She couldn’t, not when Fearne’s voice whispered in her ears so painfully, so full of betrayal. Her sister’s name over and over and over again, tear-filled and sickening. All (y/n) wanted to do was wrap her arms around Fearne and promise her that things would be okay, that she would take her story back to the news with the revelation of her killer. Even if it was just her word against the world’s, supported by no evidence but her Talent, she would do it.

Then, Lockwood threw a salt bomb at Fearne’s face, dissolving her spectral form for a moment.

He turned back to (y/n), eyes uncharacteristically wild. “(y/n), go!”

And she did. She was on her feet again, heart thumping in her chest as Lockwood turned to follow the moving glow of Fearne Watson, slashing at her with his rapier whenever she came too close.

(y/n) grappled for anything that could be a source, feeling them in her hands for any signs. Ice cold. Traces of memories that she would be able to see or hear. Most were fruitless, just ghastly-looking vases and pretentious photo frames. What on earth would be the source if somebody else was living here now?

A thought came to the forefront of her mind, driving her back to the blood-red rug. She folded the corner over itself again and again until she reached somewhere near the middle, cringing at the wailing noises that came from the visitor. Salt exploded in the air, tangling in her hair and melting on her lips. With the miasma she had misunderstood as fear and sympathy, it was a horrible taste.

The dark floor was stained darker in one spot, splotchy and strangely shaped, exactly where the teacup had fallen in the vision. Fearne howled when (y/n)’s fingers brushed it.

“Hurry!” Lockwood called, twisting his rapier in ways far too complicated for (y/n) to ever attempt. “I know what you’re thinking!”

And he likely did. She was unsure as to why Lockwood expected any different from her - to not feel even the slightest bit bad for these ghosts. Some had died so brutally, so heartbreakingly, that sometimes she doubted if he truly had a heart, despite the way she so often saw him looking at her.

This poor woman had been killed by her sister for nothing more than existing. She had died horribly, unable to move or breathe as her sister watched her struggle, ignoring the hemlock tea stain on the floor beneath her feet. She had remained at the site of her murder for years, with no escape from the memories of her death.

How could she not feel bad? How could she not wish for something more for ghosts like Fearne, more than a fight and another violent end, surrounded by the flames of the Fittes Furnaces?

The wailing disappeared for a moment, and all she could hear was Lockwood panting behind her. And the whispers. The whispers from the floorboard.

“Have you found the source?” he asked, his voice cool. She wasn’t sure when the last time he had used that tone on her was.

His answer was a resounding yes.

Fearne’s glowing apparition appeared in front of (y/n)’s face, her haunting smile and glassy eyes like a hand around her heart.

Dahlia, she murmured. A tear slipped down her purple cheek as one of her hands slowly reached upwards, towards (y/n)’s cheek. Her other hand neared the site of the source, from which she had just appeared. Dahlia.

(y/n) didn’t notice how cold her hand felt until the chill was gone, replaced by the weight of a silver net. All noise felt as though it had been sucked out of the room, replaced by a heavy silence.

Then came the angry breathing Lockwood so often resorted to when he could not bear to speak to George or Lucy when they had particularly annoyed him. But never had he done it because of (y/n). Never.

She turned her head, slipping her hand out from beneath the net, and met Lockwood’s gaze. His brows were drawn close over his shadowed eyes, lips curved downwards as his shoulders rose and fell with each deep, steadying breath he tried to take.

“We get rid of ghosts,” he said, voice tight. “We aren’t paid to sympathise with them.”

(y/n) stood slowly. “They deserve more than this.”

“They are ghosts.” His words were clipped now. “They deserve nothing.”

“She didn’t deserve to die.”

“And neither do we!”

He had raised his voice just so slightly, but, even still, it took her by shock. He slipped his rapier into his belt, pocketing his salt bombs, and stared angrily at her in a way he never had before.

“I let you off the first time something like this happened,” he said, “because you were new. I wanted to see how you worked, see how you processed these things. The second time, well, that was different - the ghost had no intention of doing anything but sitting sadly in a corner. The fifth time? Well, I suppose that, along with every other time you’ve pulled this, was because of my feelings for you. But you’ve put both of us at risk today, again. I won’t have it.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “What? So you want me to go around with no feelings whatsoever and just get rid of all of these ghosts?”

He threw his arms into the air, exasperated. “Yes! That’s what I pay you to do!”

“Well, I won’t do it.” (y/n) bit the inside of her cheek. “Without the emotion, I wouldn’t be able to find the sources the way I do. I’m not going to be some emotionless paramount of an agent like you. And if you don’t want me to work that way, then I won’t. I'd rather leave than do that.”

“Then go.”

The words hung in the air, and (y/n) found herself immediately regretting hers. But Lockwood's certainty in his, they had her dead-set. If he was so blasé about her threat of leaving Lockwood and Co after all they had been through, all she had felt for him, then she would go.

She didn’t want to work in any way but hers. She had perfected her technique, used it on every case to support her findings. Sure, she sympathised with many of the ghosts; how could she not, when many were late children or murdered women or family members taken too soon? Telling her not to work that way, to not use the pain felt by the victims to help her bring them peace, was like trying to cut a piece out of her body. She’d kick and scream and stop it at any cost.

With a breath that constricted her chest, she clenched her fists. Pain flared up through her right hand and, when she looked down, she had to blink a few times to make sure she wasn’t making up the blue tinge her skin had taken on.

Lockwood seemed to notice it at that very moment, eyes widening as he stepped forward. His voice softened as he said, “(y/n), let me see -”

Taking a step back, she clutched her hand to her chest. “No.”

She said it with more force than she has ever used with him. It shocked her almost as much as it did him.

With her good hand shaking, she turned and strode out of the living room into the kitchen, where their kits were stashed.

DEPRAC’s main goal was to protect and provide for the agents that fought off visitors across the whole of Britain, and they had recently managed to get legislation approved for agents to carry adrenaline shots with them to cases. Far too many agents, most of them being barely teenagers, had died waiting for ambulances to provide the shots after being ghost-touched, especially when working in remote areas. DEPRAC wanted to reduce fatalities as much as possible.

So she reached into Lockwood’s bag - legislation had only been approved with the compromise that supervisors or business owners carried adrenaline shots with them, rather than allowing other agents to have possession of them - and pulled out the box containing the shot.

Lockwood was at her side in a second, reaching over to help her out, seeing her struggle with only one hand, but she turned away from him. She hoped he hadn’t seen the tears clouding her eyes before she had moved.

“(y/n),” he murmured.

“Don’t,” she said. “Just don’t.”

And, so, she stabbed the needle into her arm, administering the adrenaline despite the rules surrounding even that part of the legislation. She did not want to feel his hands on her skin. Not anymore.

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

(y/n) sat curled up on her chair, newspaper laid out before her.

Her last case with Lockwood and Co had made it into the news, page eight, much to Lockwood’s likely chagrin. That was a guess, though. She supposed she wouldn’t know anymore.

Light flooded in through her window, illuminating the walls of her childhood home. She had not wanted to return, but what choice had she had? Getting a flat in London was almost impossible.

Her parents had taken her back with open arms, happy to have their little girl back, but they fell into old habits quickly. It seemed that the years she had spent living in 35 Portland Row had left them to store some passive aggressive comments ready for her return. Everything she did elicited some kind of comment.

She flicked through the newspaper, filling in crosswords and drawing devil horns on the heads of the Fittes agents that had made it into the paper.

Page eight, though she hated it, held her attention. After the effects of ghost-touch began to fade away, Lockwood had called the police and DEPRAC regarding the case, informing both of their findings. Though no evidence had been found to prove their claim, paragons of each big agency with the talent of Touch were brought in the DEPRAC van. Every single one confirmed her story.

The police disappeared shortly after, alerting higher ups and figuring out a strategy. Dahlia Watson still lived in London.

The floorboard was pried from the house, wrapped tightly in a silver net and taken by a DEPRAC officer en route to the Fittes Furnaces. She didn't miss the way Lockwood looked over at her at the announcement of the source's destination.

Journalists appeared shortly after, shouting their questions and writing down every move (y/n) and Lockwood made in their frustrating notepads as if their silence was condemnation. DEPRAC officers managed to shoo them off, but not before they snapped pictures of the two walking out of the house.

Lockwood looked as he always did, with that charming smile that, despite (y/n)’s anger, had a horrible flutter arising in her stomach, His long jacket blew back just so in the breeze, and his hair brushed his forehead softly. (y/n), on the other hand, looked far sterner than she had ever seen herself, her hand still a faint shade of blue, her eyes wan. Anybody who had seen their pictures in the news before that point likely knew that that was the end of their business together at Lockwood and Co. They were stood about two feet apart.

She should have left it there, left her remorse and fury mixing terribly in her chest, but she didn’t.

Her eyes caught onto the final sentence, and she felt rather sick. “I give full credit of the discovery to my partner, (y/n) (l/n), (pictured left). This case, and Fearne Watson's murder, would not have been solved without her. Always.”

Former partner, she thought with a lump in her throat. And, well, always did not seem so true anymore.

She tore the page from the paper, ignoring the bewildered look on her mother’s face. With bleary eyes, she crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the fire.

Perhaps always was only for fairytales.

#lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #anthony lockwood fanfiction #lockwood fanfiction #lockwood and co fanfiction #anthony lockwood #lockwood #george karim #lucy carlyle #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break

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almostgenerallyalways · 2 years

Text

Tacit Admissions

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader (no gender specific pronouns used) Category: fluff, angst Word count: 1.4k Cw: canon typical violence, hospitals Authors note: meant to write a little blurb but it turned out a one shot

Summary: Spencer lands in the hospital, and you have to come clean with yourself.

You rush through the hospital corridor, your wet shoes skidding on the drab green vinyl flooring. A nurse looks at you disapprovingly as you pass him, but you barely take note, finally coming to an abrupt stop in a waiting area strewn with outdated magazines and abandoned Styrofoam cups containing the dregs of terrible coffee, drunk only to keep shaking hands busy and weary minds alert. Facing you is your co-worker Derek Morgan, and to your immense relief, he is smiling.

“Hey,” he says, pulling you to him in a quick one-armed hug. “You look exhausted.”

“Thanks.” You pull back, taking in the lines around his eyes, more pronounced than usual. “You don’t exactly look like you got your recommended eight hours either.” You look around you at the various doors leading off the hall. “How is he?”

Derek laughs and shakes his head, used to you getting straight to the point. “He’s fine. Like I said on the phone, they got him out of surgery around 6, he woke up twenty minutes ago.” He motions to his right arm. “It looked worse than it was. No major damage.”

His words do little to lift the immense weight of guilt and worry on your shoulders, but still they are exceedingly welcome, and you hug him again. “Thank God.” You wipe surreptitiously at your eyes, not wanting him to see you cry. “What room?”

He tells you the room number, but as you pull away, he squeezes your bicep, amusement breaking through the expression on his tired face. “Just a warning. Your man’s off his face on painkillers.”

On a normal day you wouldn’t let that little comment slide, but then, on a normal day Spencer doesn’t get shot.

* * *

Before opening the door, you take a second to collect yourself. You’re in a state: running on the bare minimum of sleep for the past ten days, bone-tired after yesterday’s tactical operation got out of control, frustrated after having been kept at the police station all night to debrief. You’ve exchanged your bloodstained clothes for running tights and a hooded sweatshirt from your go-bag, but you’ve skipped a shower in order to get here sooner, and are now somewhat regretting that decision.

Taking a deep breath, you push the door handle, opening the door as quietly as possible. Despite expecting it, the sight of Spencer in a hospital bed knocks the wind out of you, and you clasp your hand to your mouth involuntarily.

He appears to be asleep again, so you tread lightly, scanning over every visible part of him as you sit down on the utilitarian plastic chair next to his bed: The bandage covering his upper right arm, the pulse oximeter clasped to his finger. He looks pale, but he looks okay, and your eyes fill with tears that you immediately try to blink back – you’re relieved, yet you’re worried. You know he’d hate being drugged up, and this is the second time in as many years of you two working together that this has happened; that he’s been shot, and you hate it, you wish you could protect him, keep him from ever being hurt again.

The first time – the leg – happened when you’d just joined the team, and you hadn’t known him that well. Because he was out of commission for months and you were not being deployed in the field much yet, you’d spent a lot of time together, working cases from the offices in Quantico. When he was mobile again, and you’d finally passed your field tests, you’d often been paired up together: his superior intelligence and extensive BAU experience a complementary match to your tactical skills and brawn.

Suddenly, Spencer stirs, and his eyes flutter open. He appears to have trouble focusing for a few seconds, but then a grin breaks out across his face.

“Hey,” he says, voice cracking a bit. “It’s you.”

You smile, and squeeze his hand, and don’t know what to do with your face, which is surely betraying you – so you busy yourself looking around for a cup of water to give him. “I couldn’t come earlier; Hotch wanted me there for the full debrief – I’m so sorry – I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I feel great.” He grins again, taking the plastic cup from you, and swallows a sip of water. “I feel rested.”

A noise halfway between a laugh and a sob escapes you, and you sit back down, finally letting go of some of the crushing fear you’ve been carrying around for the last ten hours. “You scared me, Spence. Next time we’re going into a place like that, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

He stares up at you dreamily, and you again breathe a laugh: the finer points of tactical ops are clearly the farthest thing from his mind, and you should let it go for now. His hair’s matted on one side, and you run your hand through it, still needing to feel him, confirm he’s okay. His eyes drift shut at your touch.

“I asked Morgan –,“ he yawns, “I asked him to get you. And he did.”

His hand drifts to yours, closes over it, and your heartbeat feels fast and reedy. Of the two of you, you are the tactile one, and he is decidedly not – you can count on one hand, quite literally, the amount of times he’s hugged you or even clapped a hand on your shoulder. Your brain has embarrassingly catalogued these moments, against your own better judgement, and you’ve shoved this list away into the recesses of your mind, down with the other things you know it’s better for you not to think about.

You make an effort to pull yourself together. “Derek’s good like that. I’m here now, for as long as you want.”

He fixes you with a stare, and you suppose it’s the drugs, but he looks at ease, unguarded – heartbreakingly, it makes him look even younger than he is.

“You’re so pretty.” He says, and you half choke on the non-sequitur, letting out a laugh.

This seems to offend him, and he squeezes your hand in reprimand, frowning: “Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t get called pretty very often,” You say, truthfully, shaking your head, a grin on your face. “You caught me off guard.”

He considers this. “It’s probably because you look so serious all the time.”

You smile at him. “That must be it.”

He’s nodding, satisfied with his theory. “But I know. You’re not serious at all. But it’s good that they don’t see it. I like being the only one who makes you laugh.”

Your heart is brimming over with affection for this man, propped up in a hospital bed across from you, holding your hand. You’re too tired, too emotionally wrung out, too fucking relieved to push it down like you usually would. In the background, a machine beeps in a steady rhythm.

You bring his hand up slightly, press a kiss to his knuckles. “I think you’re drugged out of your mind, Spencer Reid. But for the record, you making me laugh is the best part of my day.” You exhale shakily. “You’re the best part of my day, pretty much all the time.”

“Oh, good.” he says, seriously, and you have to laugh once more.

He appears to be getting tired again, blinking in an effort to keep his eyes open, and he yawns. “When I wake up, I’m going to kiss you. After I’ve brushed my teeth.”

You press another kiss to his knuckles, torn between elation and apprehension, not sure if you should wish or fear that he’ll have forgotten this whole conversation once the drugs wear off. “If you still want to, after you wake up, I’ll kiss you back.”

The stern nurse from before walks in, motions with his chin for you to scram. Spencer’s eyes have closed, so you tuck the sheet around him, taking care not to disturb his bandage, his monitor. You should go home, to shower, to rest, but you know you won’t – you’ll be right here, folded up on the cramped waiting area sofa, not leaving until Spencer wakes up again, whatever that might bring.

~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! Check out my little masterlist, I’m also open to requests via ask (I haven’t done any yet so I’m not sure what I’ll be comfortable writing exactly, but try me!)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction

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strniohoeee · 4 months

Note

Please could you write something based off 13 going on 30? I love your writing💕

Au Revoir

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Rummaging through her old collection of photos for a work campaign, Y/N enters a time capsule. And her one mission is to find the boy she once called her best friend☁️

Warnings⚠️: NONE, I lovedddd this idea sooo much, and I tried to make it as long and cohesive as possible LOLL. The whole wishing dust thing is a bit unrealistic, so I tried to make it as real as possible🤞🏽

Song for imagine: Vienna- Billy Idol, Crazy for You- Madonna

You’re gonna kick off

Before you even get halfway through

When will you realize, Vienna waits

For you?

“Enough with the embarrassing photos of me, I’m on a mission here” I said snatching the photo book from my friends hands

“What is even the project? I’m confused” she said rolling her eyes

“My boss wants us to be more authentic with our work. Our covers are becoming a bit too. What's the word?? Cliche? And unrealistic. So I figured I’d dip into my high school pile of photos” I replied looking through my pictures

“You’re a magazine company not a school yearbook committee” She replied laughing

“Okay…but we target towards young adults high school through college years” I said to her huffing

“Well how about your yearbook?” She suggested rummaging through the box

“Oh duh! Why didn’t I think about that” I said placing the photos down

She cracked open my high school and middle school yearbook. Slipping her fingers through the pages as she giggled.

Her mouth dropped and she gasped

“Holy shit” she said flipping the book around to show me

“What?” I said squinting at the book

“Chris sturniolo babes” she said dropping the book on my lap

I grabbed the book, ghosting my finger over the page. My mind immediately raced as the memories rushed in. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Chris in 12 years. I was 25 now and I honestly forgot all about him.

“It’s just Chris” I said looking up at her

“Yeah your ex best friend who’s famous with his brothers and living in LA just like you” she replied in a duh tone

“Okay? And?” I replied placing the year book down on my lap

“Well he’s also a photographer, so I’m sure he could really help you with this. I mean this project is due in a month. I say reach out to him” she said shrugging

“Reach out to him? He doesn’t want to see me” I said shaking my head

“Why not?” She said furrowing her brows

Flashback

*snap* *snap*

“Chris! No more photos please” I said laughing and pushing him away

“Off guard pictures are the best! They show their true beauty” he said looking down at his camera

“Yeah right” I said bumping his shoulder with mine as we walked down the halls

“Y/N! I heard you were having a party tonight, and we really want to go, but Ms. Teller assigned us this huge project due Monday” Jessica said coming up to us

“Oh man that sucks” I said opening my locker and looking at her

“Josh even said he wanted to go too, but he’s coming over to help us with this project” she replied twirling her hair

“Oh umm I can do the report for you guys and have it ready for tonight” I replied shutting my locker

“PERFECT! We’ll be there” she said winking

“Oh please” Chris groaned

“Shut up loser” she said snapping at Chris

“Whatever, Y/N I’m going to head to the main office to get my new assignment” he replied

“Do whatever you want Chris it’s not like she needs a play by play” Jessica said rolling her eyes at Chris, I giggled a bit before offering Chris a sympathetic smile

He rolled his eyes and walked away.

“Okay so we’ll be there by 7?” She asked

“7 is perfect” I replied smiling at her

She nodded her head and she and her group left.

I met up with Chris at the exit as we walked home together.

“I don’t know why you want to be their friend they’re just using you” he replied as we walked down the street

“No they’re not! They’re my friends” I said sucking my teeth at him

“Yeah and pigs can fly” he said rolling his eyes

We got to our houses that were next to each other.

“I’ll see you tonight?” I asked him

“You sure will” he said before winking at me

“Perfect” I said stepping onto my lawn

“Arrivederci” Chris said waving

“Au Revoir” I replied waving back

We parted ways and I got to working on Jessica and her group's report. Finishing within two hours and beginning to get ready for my party.

Chris came over at 6:45 and we went down to my basement. Put some music on and add the last bit of snacks to the table.

“Oh god you’re even dressed like them” he said looking at me fully

“Am not! I just like fashion” I said rolling my eyes

“Yeah sure” he said rolling his eyes

“Chris just play nice please” I said looking at him

“Will do” he said throwing his hands up

The bell rang and I jumped up heading upstairs to let them in. Jessica, her group and Josh came. I ushered them downstairs and we sat around talking, laughing and eating.

“Y/N I’m going to get my camera” Chris told me as I was talking to Josh

“Do whatever you want Chris I don’t need a play by play” I responded, everyone laughed and I smiled at their reactions.

Chris scoffed, stomping up the stairs and out the door.

“So Y/N how about we play 7 minutes in heaven. And you get to go first” Jessica said grabbing my hand so I can stand up

She walked me over to my closet, opening the door as I got in

“I hear Josh wants to go first” She said in a whisper

“No way” I said giggling

“Way” she responded

“Oh and before I forget where’s the report? Thank you so much for doing it” she said smiling at me

“It’s on the table by the stairs” I said, she nodded and shut the door

I stood in the closet while I waited for Josh. Anxiously waiting for him as I had my back to the door. Suddenly I heard footsteps and my heart started racing.

The door opened and I turned around

“What took you so-“ but I cut myself off once I realized it was Chris at the door

“Chris? Where’s Josh? Where’s everybody” I said pushing him out the way and stepping out

“They left” he said

“What did you do?” I replied in anger

“I didn’t do anything! They just left” He replied

“God Chris! Just leave” I said looking back at him

“What? What did I do?” He said concerned and saddened

“JUST GO OKAY I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN” I yelled at him and pointed to the stairs

Chris hung his head low and walked away leaving me in anger. That was the last time I ever spoke to Chris….

Flashback Over

“Let’s just say I wasn’t the nicest person ever” I replied shaking my head

“I’m sure it’s water under the bridge, but you’re about to be late it’s 11” she said looking down at her phone

“Oh shit” I said, jumping up and grabbing my phone, purse and keys.

Running out my apartment and to my car, hopping in and basically speeding to work.

I rushed up to my office placing my purse down and sitting in my chair. The phone calls and emails started as soon as I opened my desktop.

*knock* *knock*

“Come in” I called out as my fingers typed faster against the keyboard

“Good morning Y/N, I have some messages for you and Rachel wants to know if you’re still on for lunch tomorrow?” My assistant Vicky asked me

“Place them there for me, and yes tomorrow at 1:30 works perfect” I replied looking down at my calendar sitting on my desk

“Is there anything I can get for you?” She asked me

“Actually there is one thing! There’s this person I need you to find. His names Christopher Sturniolo, I need his phone number” I said to her

“On it” she replied before walking out the room

My mind raced as I tried to focus on my emails and calls. Maybe this was a bad idea? Contacting someone who I haven’t seen in 12 years especially after being a bitch to them made me uneasy. However my thoughts were pushed away when Vicky walked back in

“ so I found one phone number online and it happens to be his parents so when I called them, I told them that it was very urgent and that I was with debt collectors, so they gave me his phone number and his new address” she said handing me the paper

“Holy shit! You’re heaven sent! Thank you” I replied as I grabbed the paper from her hand

I finished my day of work at about 5, clocking out and rushing to the parking lot. I put in Chris' address and surprisingly it wasn’t far from me or my job. About 30 minutes?

Once I was on the freeway I started to have second thoughts, but there was physically and mentally no turning back now. After what felt like eons I arrived at the apartment complex. Super boujee might I add. I parked in the visitors area and looked for his building number

“Building 9” I said as I walked past 7 and 8

Opening the door and walking into the massive apartment unit.

“Whewww okay unit number 102, floor 4” I say with a shaky breath

I got in the elevator hitting floor 4 as my breathing got shaky. Stepping out and following the arrows to the 100’s.

“99,100,101,102” I replied looking to my right, fuck I thought

I slid the paper in my purse as I inhaled sharply. Wiping my sweaty palms on my slacks as I brought my fist up to the door.

*knock* *knock* *knock*

I stepped back a bit as I waited for someone to come to the door. Within seconds the door opened and my heart started racing even faster.

“Woah” he said confused

“Chris?” I said tilting my head a bit

“Yeah?” He replied confused as ever

“You’re so different” I said smiling a bit

“Yeah…” he stated as he scratched the back of his neck

“You don’t know me?” I ask a little hurt

“I mean I don’t blame you! I wasn’t the nicest, and I haven’t seen you or spoke to you in 12 years” I said rambling nervously

“Y/N….Y/N Y/L/N” he said as his face softened

“Yes! It’s me” I said to him

“Hey” he said

I immediately hugged him, not realizing what I was doing.

“Uhh come on in” he said stumbling back a bit

I let go of him looking at him shyly before stepping in.

His apartment clattered in cameras and pictures everywhere. Stepping further into his living room as I looked around

“Still taking pictures?” I said smiling at the wall

“Uhh yup helps pays the bills” he said awkwardly

“Uhh…hey Y/N why are you here?” He asked confused and blinking at me

“I’m sorry I just….I just came across our yearbooks and realized how long it’s been” I said tucking my hair behind my ear

“We’re not friends anymore, you can’t just drop by like nothing” he said laughing awkwardly

“We were so close” I said looking at him

“Yeah we were, but not anymore” he said furrowing his brows at me

“Oh god what have I done” I said stepping back

“No it’s okay, calm down” he said sensing my anxiety

“I…I think I need some air” I said breathing heavily

“Hey it’s okay” he said looking at me

“Oh my god I need air” I said realizing how dumb this was

“Let's step outside I’ll walk you to your car” he said

I nodded my head as I followed him out the door. Walking down to my car before stopping at the hood of it.

“I mean what happened to us” I said shaking my head

“I mean we went different ways you know” he said apologetically

“No I mean what really happened to us” I said shaking my head again

“You uhh went along with those girls and I went my way” he responded

“I was so stupid, I don’t even know why I did that” I said rolling my eyes at myself

“Listen we all fall down the wrong path and it’s okay” he said

“No it’s not, and I’m sorry” I said nodding my head at him

“Don’t beat yourself up over it” he said laughing

“I wish I didn’t fall down that path and be friends with those girls” I said to him

“Nah don’t worry about it” he said waving his hand at me

“I can’t believe it’s been 12 years since I last saw you” I said to him

“If it makes you feel better I think I saw you through a frosted window one time 2 years ago” he said smiling and to this I laughed nodding my head

“It was great seeing you but uhh I got to go” he said pointing behind him

“Yeah…yeah okay” I said to him

He began to walk away before I spoke up

“Chris?” I said

“Yeah?” He replied

“Arrivederci” I replied waving at him and he smiled

“I’ll see you” he said laughing

“Chrisss” I said to him waiting for him to answer

He laughed and rolled his eyes

“Au Revoir” he replied waving at me

Chris went his way and I went mine. Getting in my car and heading back home. It wasn’t until I was home that I realized I completely forgot to ask him about the photo shoot.

A few days went by and I was sitting at a bar finishing my drink. Taking notes for my new campaign before I decided to head out.

Stepping out onto the dewey street as I pulled my phone out to order an Uber.

“Y/N?” I heard, immediately turning my head and smiling

“Oh my god. Chris! Hi” I said cracking a wide tooth smile

“Hey” I said walking over to him

“Hey, how are you?” He said smiling at me

“I’m good” I replied

“Hey I’m sorry about the other day for the awkward interaction” he said laughing

“Oh that’s alright I bombarded you” I said shooing him

“But uh what are you doing here?” I asked him

“I’m actually uh, I’m actually here with my girlfriend” he said to me looking over his shoulder as I saw a girl stepping out of a store. She walked over to us smiling

“This is Bonnie my girlfriend” he said to me

“I’m Y/N” I said a bit shocked as I shook her hand

“Aww Chris told me all about you! It’s so nice of you to stop bye” she said blinking her hazel eyes at me

“Oh no Chris is the nice one! Talking to me after so long” I replied smiling

“Are you in the influencer world too?” I asked her

“Oh no, I work in a corporate position over at HLC” she said nodding at me

“Ohhh nice nice” I said nodding my head at her

“But it was so great to finally meet you” she said smiling at me

“Likewise! I’ll let you guys go. It was great running into you” I said waving at them before walking away

Walking two blocks down before ordering my Uber. Many thoughts running through my head. Girlfriend? Since when?? He was notoriously known for being afraid of women. I guess I didn’t really know him.

I went home that night with many questions in my head and a burning desire to see Chris again. I opted for stalking his instagram. Over 2 million followers and not a single photo of Bonnie. I guess he wanted to keep it private.

My finger hovered over the message button. Chewing the inside of my lip as my thumbs swirled around. I mean I don’t want his girlfriend to think anything of it, so I closed out the Instagram app and threw my phone to the left of me.

Groaning at this new found problem I was having. I decided to let it go and move on with my life. Too scared to reach out to him I decided to take a crack at the project again.

Confused on where to start as my living room was a mess of photos and photo albums of my life. I was now at 3 weeks and I was neck deep in work not even a single idea written down.

I decided to rest it for the evening and head to bed.

A few days later in a moment of weakness I grabbed my car keys and headed over to Chris apartment. Slowly punching myself for this crazy behavior.

Knocking on his door as I picked at my fingernails.

“Okay…you’re not pizza” he said laughing at me

“Want to go for a walk?” I asked him

“Sure” he replied grabbing his house keys and shutting the door behind him

We walked throughout his apartment complex

“I can’t believe you have a girlfriend” I said laughing

“What? What’s so shocking” he said laughing

“You were known for being scared of women” I said giggling

“And I’m 25 now, times have changed” he said laughing with me

“Is she your soulmate?” I asked him

“Ehhh I don’t believe in that” he said shrugging his shoulders

“Oh come on! Does she give you butterflies? Does your skin burn when she touches you?” I said bumping his shoulder

“Oh please I don’t believe that” he said bumping me back

“So what’s the real reason you came to me the other day?” He asked me

“Well I realized I wasn't a nice person to you and my friend convinced me to reach back out to you” I said half smiling at him

“Really?” He said looking at me

“Yes and I also may need your help” I said giggling

“There’s always a but with you” he said shaking his head

“It’s a Y/N guaranteed” I said shrugging my shoulders

“So what’s this you need help with?” He asked

“Sooo my company wants us to redesign our magazine for next month, and I only have 3 weeks to finish it. We’re trying to gear more towards the younger population. After looking through our yearbooks I had an idea, and it was an idea you’d help with perfectly” I said to him

“I’m down, that sounds awesome” he said nodding his head

“You’re amazing” I said hugging him and he reluctantly hugged me back

Chris invited me back to his apartment to eat pizza and brainstorm some ideas. As we sat in his living room sharing pizza my mind began to race

“Chris, do you ever wish you could go back?” I asked him

“I wouldn’t mind going back” he said laughing

“If you were given one do over,anything in your life, what would you do?” I asked him taking a sip of my drink

“Mmm nothing” he said swallowing the bite he just took

“Really?” I said shocked

“Really” he replied nodding his head

“But did you ever make a big mistake? One that could change your life? What about that?” I asked him

“Well I’ve made many mistakes, but I don’t regret any of them” he said wiping his hands

“How come?” I asked him getting a bit sad as tears threatened to come out

“Because if I hadn’t made them, I wouldn’t have learned how to make things right” he said nodding his head

At this moment I was feeling so much regret for cutting off my best friend since birth. We shared every birthday, every holiday and every event till we were 13. And of course it was me who had to ruin it. So I truly sat here fighting back tears.

I smiled at him before looking down and taking a sharp inhale.

“I’m sorry I treated you horribly” I said licking my lips and swallowing thickly

“It’s okay” he said offering me a reassuring smile

That night we brainstormed some ideas. We also caught up on life, even cracking jokes here and there. Even though we hadn’t spoken in so long it felt like we never missed a day.

Later that week Chris met me at a park.

“Chris you made it” I said standing up and hugging him

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world” he said hugging me back

“So here’s half of your payment and the rest of it will be when you finish” I said handing him a check

“Thank you” he said grabbing the check

“No thank you” I said as we walked over to the photo shoot set up

“However I looked at your magazine and my photography style is nothing like yours” he replied looking over at me

“Exactly” I said smirking at him

We walked over to the set up and began setting all the models up. Setting everyone up how we wanted. Throwing leaves and balloons as we laughed.

Stopping to look at the shots offering my advice on how certain people should be photographed. Chris listened to me intently and the photos came out awesome.

That night we had a photoshoot again and it was prom themed. Chris was taking pictures of this one couple and he just wasn’t liking the way it was coming out

“Hey let me show you something, it seems a bit fake. We want this shoot to be fun and authentic” Chris said to the guy

He walked over to me, grabbing me.

“Wrap your hand around her waist and have her place her head on your shoulder, get close like this and just sway to the music” he said to them as he swayed us around while placing my head on his shoulder

They readjusted their positions and really enjoyed themselves.

“Perfect! Just like that” he said as he snapped some photos

Offering a smile to me as I stood on the sidelines.

Two nights later Chris and I were in his studio looking at the developed photos. His gaze on me as I glanced at the photos

“God these came out beautiful” I say running my fingers over the photos

“Yeah they came out good didn’t they” he said as his was looking at me

“I love them, do you?” I asked him

“Yeah….I do” he said pushing hair behind my ear

My breathing hitch in my throat as I tried to ignore the gesture. Not realizing what he did Chris cleared his throat

“Uh it’s getting late we should uhh we should head home” he said standing up

“You know what I wish for right now? I wish to go on a walk” I said looking at him

“Uhhh yeah sure” he said grabbing his stuff as we headed out of his studio

We walked to the park that was across the way. Walking the track as we talked about everything. Mainly about the photos because I knew they’d be a hit at the office.

“You know I’ve had a really great time working with you this week” Chris blurted out

“Me too” I replied smiling at him

We stopped at a swing set, sitting down as we swung back and forth. Enjoying the silence and the wind rustling through the trees.

“Wanna know a secret?” I said as I glanced over at him

“Yeah?” He replied looking over at me

“You’re the sweetest guy I’ve ever known” I said smiling at him

He looked down, chuckling as he smiled. Nodding his head but not sure how to go about the flirty compliment I just dropped on him.

“Alright swinging competition” I said bringing the silence

“Whoever goes the furthest the other owes a drink” I said laughing

“A Pepsi” he said laughing

“Ouu upping the stakes” I said laughing at him and he rolled his eyes

“And dinner Friday night at 8” I said to him

“You got yourself a deal” he said laughing with me

“One. Two. Three” he shouts before we jump off

Us both landing in the sand. Me ahead of him as I rolled a bit and he rolled into me.

“UHHHH” he groaned

“Are you okay?” I said laughing

“Yeah yeah I’m okay. I should’ve ducked and rolled” He said laughing

He leaned up hovering over me. Staring into my eyes as the swings creaked behind us.

“Chris” I said in a whisper

Suddenly Chris leaned down connecting our lips together. Immediate butterflies in my stomach as his hand was placed on my cheek. The kiss set me back 12 years as my mind raced.

He pulled away sitting in the sand looking into the distance as I sat up laying my head on his shoulder. Smiling sheepishly as I drew shapes into his back.

I never knew I could grow feelings for someone after not seeing them for over a decade. And I for sure didn’t expect to grow these feelings so fast.

What Y/N didn’t know was that the young man was too feeling a certain way about Y/N. His mind raced and tried to figure out what this all meant. Did he really like her or was it just actions out of pure instinct? He just knew doing this to Bonnie was wrong.

However when her hands were placed on his shoulders while he worked in his studio. He got extra happy thinking it was Y/N, but when he was met with Bonnie he felt a sense of disappointment?

Sitting at lunch with her while he mind ran rapidly. Pictures and thoughts only of Y/N eating away. Constantly having to ask Bonnie to repeat herself. Explaining he was stressed with his current workload and couldn’t focus. To Bonnie it was true but to him it was a blatant lie….

Bonnie talking about eventually moving in with Chris. Planning all these future vacations. And all Chris can think about is doing all this, but with Y/N. Feeling immediate guilt at this.

However he realized that Y/N was in his past. Yes he did have a crush on her for as long as he could remember. But she chose a different life and different friends. Simply because she came back after 12 years doesn’t mean he throws away his current life for what once was.

Chris really needed to speak with Y/N about this. They had their dinner Friday to celebrate the redesign with his photos, but he couldn’t seem to bring up the fact that what happened was a mistake.

He had gone to her office Monday morning as she was out for the day starting a new project, and it just seemed like they couldn’t catch up with each other. Missed calls from both sides and unanswered messages.

Y/N really wanted to talk to Chris too about what happened at the swing set, so she decided to head over to his apartment. Smiling the whole time because she finally realized why she should’ve never left Chris. And all these feelings were hitting her like a ton of bricks.

She knocked at his door with a wide grin waiting as she heard feet shuffling on the other side of the door.

The door swung open and to her surprise it was Bonnie.

“Hi” I said taken back

“Y/N right?” She said smiling

“Yeah!” I replied back

“I was just looking for Chris I really wanted to talk to him about something” I said looking behind her into the apartment

“Oh I’ll uh tell him you stopped by when he gets back” she said nodding at me

“Gets back?” I asked

“Oh he’s getting us dinner right now” she said nodding at me

“Oh okay” I said before stepping back

“Well bye” she said waving at me

“Bye” I said looking back at her before walking off

No matter how much we tried to communicate it was like the universe wanted to keep us apart. I shook my head, getting in my car and breaking down. Upset over ditching Chris for fake ass friends, upset for not admitting my feelings sooner, and upset that no matter how I felt Bonnie was who he wanted to be with.

The following day I paced my living room contemplating if I should even try and contact Chris again. It was a clear sign that I was not meant to be a part of his life anymore.

After some time of biting on my nails and walking back and forth I said fuck it and grabbed my keys. Getting in my car and racing to Chris' apartment.

Furiously knocking at his door praying that it was Chris on the other side and not Bonnie. Chewing my lip as I waited for him to open the door.

The door swung open and I felt immediate relief

“CHRIS” I shouted hugging him as he hugged back

“Come in” he said before shutting the door behind him

“I need to talk to you” I said to him

“Me too” he said scratching his neck

“Since that night at the park my mind has been racing with many thoughts. Thoughts I couldn’t even manage to think of, but I’m in love with you Chris” I said to him

“I…” he couldn’t even focus on what to say

“Chris, I am not the awful person that I know I was. I don’t even know that person. And I’d like to believe that if you knew that you wouldn’t be with Bonnie, but with me instead.” I said to him

“I’m not going to lie. I felt things for you these past times together that I didn’t know I could feel. But I just realized that a walk down memory lane doesn’t change the path I’m currently on” he said

“And why not?” I asked as tears stung my waterline

“Because we both moved on. We went separate ways. I chose Bonnie and I can’t just forget what her and I have” he replied

It was like daggers to my heart as I let tears fall.

“Don’t cry” he said walking up to me

“No, it’s okay I’ll be fine” I said smiling at him

“I uhh I found this picture of us from middle school and I want you to have it” he said walking over to his coffee table

I laughed a bit and wiped my eyes. He handed me the picture over. It was the both of us sitting at the beach. His arm slung over my shoulder as I made an annoyed face. It was our go to pose.

“Thank you” I said wiping my eyes again

He looked at me before swallowing thickly.

“Y/N I…..I’ve always loved you” he said looking down

My breathing caught in my throat at this.

“Fuck it! I can’t fight this feeling anymore. I love you so much and I have never been so sure about anything in my life than right now at this moment. You came in at such an unexpected time, but I want nothing more than to be with you” he said walking over to me

“Chris…” I started but he cut me off

He crashed his lips to mine wrapping his hands around my waist as our lips clashed together. My hands caressing his face as I smiled into the kiss.

Pulling away I looked at him.

“I’m so glad to be back in your life Chris” I said smiling at him

“I wouldn’t have it any other way” he stated as he kissed my forehead

Chris and I have been seeing each other for 5 months now. Breaking it off with Bonnie wasn’t easy, but he knew it had to be done. We spent so much time rekindling our friendship and taking so many pictures that now we’re clattered along his walls.

Who would’ve thought reading out to someone after 12 years would have fixed years of torture. And to that I say

Au Revoir

The End

God damn my thumbs hurt from all this writing, but I hope you enjoyed this! I wrote this as I watched 13 going on 30. It’s my comfort movie😩😩. Were so close to 1,900 followers and I’m so shook I love yall 🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #christopher sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader

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daydreamgoddess14 · 10 months

Text

Support System pt. 4

MASTERLIST

CH1 | CH 2 | CH 3

Roy Kent x Reader

I'm on a roll. Roy Kent making me feel things 🥵 This one is a bit angsty but buckle up - we're getting to the good stuff soon!

Chapter 4

Some call it wallowing, some call it self pity, some call it licking your wounds. You don’t give a shit which one it is, you spend the whole of Sunday morning on your sofa under a blanket alternating between tears of shame and being angry at your own stupidity. In what possible world would former footballer and dater of models - actual, beautiful, magazine fronting models, Roy Kent, really want to kiss a single mum in their mid (cough *late*) -thirties? You honestly have to consider the fact that you’ve lost the plot. The fighting and arguing late last year took its toll on you, the split early in December actually helped, but also kind of… didn’t? And now you’re in a position where you can finally make the best of the separation and the first chance you get, you royally cock it up.

Andy has Lexie right up until you need to collect her on Monday afternoon, so you plan your week accordingly. Trying to make sure that you can avoid Roy completely for at least long enough for you to be able to laugh it off. Somewhere around Christmas would probably work for that. Annoyingly, the person you want to reach out to and talk to and cry to is Sara. You’ve exchanged a handful of messages about hangovers but you’ve not been brave enough to tell her anything. Don’t be hungover alone! My mum is cooking, you should come over. Late dinner today cos of the football. A new message appears. You try and put her off, there’s no way you’re going over there without a Lexie buffer. The match kicked off at midday, you’d put it on the TV and then turned it straight off when you realised how much the camera loved focusing on Coach Lasso and his coaching staff. Your damn body betrayed you every time the camera honed in on his surly face. You shuffled further under the blanket, content to wallow alone until another message came through, Please come. I know something’s going on, I thought Roy was going to punch a wall when I asked him if you were ok when he dropped you off. You concede - it doesn’t take much, the urge to avoid Roy was strong, but you didn’t want to have to avoid Sara as well. She sends you the address and an hour later, you’re walking to her parents house in the late March sunshine. Chief door opener, Phoebe lets you in and is instantly dismayed when you have to tell her that Lexie isn’t around today. She soon gets over it though, she’s got uncle Roy playing Princesses and Dragons. Sara ushers you straight into the kitchen to meet her mum.

“Oh darling! I’ve heard so much about you from… well Sara, Phoebe and Roy actually. And lovely little Lexie as well. Such a shame she couldn’t come, there’s always next time though. It is so lovely to meet you! Come in, sit down. Do you fancy a drink or is your head still a little delicate?” The dainty woman knocks you off your feet with her kindness and sweetness. It reminded you of being in your teens and finding the one parent of your friend group who welcomed you all with open arms, didn’t care if you all swore like troopers and let you sit in the garden all night with a case of warm cider cans in the summer. The home you could go to when you’d argued with your own parents, but still needed home comforts.

“It’s great to meet you. I might be tempted later, I could go for a cup of tea though? I’ll make them, you’re busy.” You get up and start making a round of tea for everyone, working neatly around Sara’s mum and laughing with her at the state of the ‘favourite uncle’ mug Phoebe insisted that Roy always use.

“Thought I heard you.” A deeper voice muttered from the doorway. You bite down on your lip and try to force yourself to act naturally. He'd obviously been there a little while, watching. The only people who knew what had happened last night were you and Roy, and you certainly weren’t going to shout it from the rooftops. You hoped he was on the same page.

“Try this love,” his mum hands you a spoonful of cheese sauce, you close your eyes and moan in appreciation - it’s incredible.

“God, that’s gorgeous. Can I have the recipe please?”

“Course you can. Remind me in a bit, I’ll swap you for that wonderful lemon sponge recipe.” In the other room, Phoebe calls her nan for something so she prods Roy out of the doorway so she can get through.

“How’s your head?” He asks once she’s gone.

“Fine, nothing a can of coke and three ibuprofen can’t fix.”

“Three? That’s specific."

"Tried and tested. Two isn't enough and four would get me in trouble with people like her," you point at Sara who's just come in. Roy sniggers,

"Her? No way, she's the biggest fucking culprit for wrongly medicating friends and family."

"Your knee got you to Nelson Road didn't it?" She queried, recalling the day he'd gone back after retiring.

"Yeah but half a co-codemol and a shot of whiskey can't be classified as a prescription."

"My slightly alternative suggestions are only for specific people. Not medically authorised." She hugs you and takes the tea gratefully. "Let me guess, three ibuprofen and a can of coke?"

"Bingo." You confirm and she sticks her tongue out at Roy. She can feel the tension in the air between you, a million miles from the laughter and glances you'd shared the night before.

"Mum wants you to lay the table dickhead." He tells her.

"OK," she looks to you, "come help me, I need to move it first."

"There's a cup of tea on the side for you." You tell him as you follow Sara out of the room.

Standing either side of the dining table, you and Sara look like you could be at war. You both pull at your end of the table, making it longer.

"The fucks going on with you two?" She whispers, leaning forwards.

"Nothing, just very drunk crossed wires." She looks very sceptical but doesn't push you. She does, however, ensure that you end up sitting next to Roy for dinner. Fortunately, he seems just as embarrassed as you and is reluctant to talk to you much. You're starting to think that it's not so bad, avoiding him could be easy if he’s going to help you out, until he starts drying the plates you've been washing after dinner and dessert.

"You don't need to do that, you're the fucking guest."

"Which is exactly why I am doing it." You carry on washing up in silence.

"Are we gonna talk about last night or what?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Probably should though." You stop with your hands in the sink, and turn to him.

"Roy, I was drunk and stupid and I apologise. I made a horrible mistake-"

"A mistake?"

"Yeah, I mean I must have been crazy drunk to think that I'm the kind of person that you would ever-"

"Hmm. I'd fuckin' stop there." You can't help but carry on,

"You're like ridiculously gorgeous - it's borderline fucking obscene to be honest - and I'm a normal, boring person and for a tiny drunken moment, I forgot myself. It was a complete mistake, I'm sorry. Now please, I'm begging you, please forget this ever happened." Roy looks stunned while you take the towel from him and dry your hands before passing it back to him. "See you in the week." You say softly, going to the living room to say goodbye to his mum, Sara and Phoebe.

The next day, you're rushing between meetings trying to eat a quick lunch, check your phone and book Lexie in for the Easter Holiday club at school all at the same time. When you see 10+ missed calls from Andy, your stomach drops to your feet. Your hands shake as you call him back.

"Lexie's not well, where the fuck are you?"

"It's Monday lunchtime, I'm at work. What happened?"

"I've called you loads, I-"

"I've been in a meeting, do you need me to come home, or is she OK with you? What do you mean she’s not well?"

"You should want to come home to her." You frown at your phone, resisting the urge to throw it in the nearest bin.

"Of course I want to come home to her, I'm her mum. However, since I'm also paying for a house alone now and everything that goes with that, I have to make sure I'm doing the right thing and not just what I want. We don't all get to do what we want, Andy."

"I get it, work is more important. Always has been."

"That's not what I said and you know it."

"No, it's fine. I'll get her from school and I'm sure you'll turn up whenever you can."

"Fuck you, Andy. I'm on my way." You hang up on him and start making calls to rearrange your afternoon meetings. In the depths of the underground when your phone signal gives up, you chuck it in your bag and lean heavily against the pushchair space. You roll your ankles, taking some of the weight off your feet for a second. The higher the zone number, the quieter the train gets so you're able to grab a real seat.

"Penny for 'em?" A gruff voice asks, sitting across from you. You look up and despite your mood, the situation and your Saturday night fuck up, you still smile at him. You wonder when he got on the train, how long he’d been so close to you.

"Hi. Lexie's not well, Andy basically said I was a shit mum for not coming home. So now I'm going home to be called a shit mum to my face. Happy Monday!"

"Fuck, wish I hadn't fucking asked. What's up with Lex?"

"Dunno, he wouldn't tell me. She's probably fine - you know what 8 year olds are like. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Had to go for a suit fitting." You can't help it. Your mind goes there, of course it does. It's been a shit few days. It's only going to get worse, so why wouldn't your brain reward you for keeping going by providing a visual representation of Roy at a suit fitting? Hands skimming over his body, a beautifully tailored suit. As if the standard dark jeans and t-shirt aren’t enough. You’re certain a suit would blow your tiny mind. You daren’t speak so settle for a nod. At the station, it’s pouring with rain. He sees your heels and straight away opens the passenger door of his car for you. “Come on, I’ll take you.” The domesticity of it is a little crushing, you’d bet it’s not all boring lifts to the train station and the park when you date models. More like champagne and sex on tap. You’d take a happy balance if such a thing existed, a domestic luxury of sorts. It sounded like an Instagram Influencer advert for washing powder. You direct Roy to Andy’s flat and take a couple of deep breaths before going to get out of the car. “Shall I wait?”

“No, no, don't do that. You should get back. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just bracing myself, that’s all.”

“Whatever he says, it’s a fucking lie.”

“How do you know?” You ask quietly.

“Let me guess, you didn’t care about him, drove him away, you’ll do the same to Lexie, work’s more important…? Am I on the right track?” You nod, looking down at your hands in your lap, already ashamed.

“None of that is fucking true. I’ve seen you, you’re… you’re pretty fucking brilliant. You and Lexie are perfect. In one ear, and out the other - don’t listen to a word he says.” He reaches across and takes your hand in his, persuading you to look up. “Don’t let him make you cry.”

“It’s you making me cry, you dumbass.” You laugh a little.

“That’s better. Go get Lexie and forget about him for the rest of the week.”

“Yes boss. Thanks for the lift.” He gives your hand a little squeeze and you dash out into the rain, trying to get undercover quickly.

Andy leaves you out in the rain for a minute or two. Of course, small punishments wherever he can. Noticeably, Roy doesn’t drive off and waits until he sees you go inside.

“What’s he doing driving you?” Is the greeting you get when you’re finally allowed in.

“We bumped into each other at the train station, it’s raining and I was going to walk here. Where’s Lexie?”

“Sofa.” He grunts. You take off your soaking jacket, your blouse underneath is no drier, with various wet patches making it transparent in places.You kick off your shoes and go through to what you presume is the living room - you’ve never wanted or been offered a tour of his flat before. Most pick ups and drop offs took place at school so you could go blissful weeks without seeing him. Lexie is laying on the sofa under a blanket watching a film, she visibly brightens at seeing you and scrambles to sit up. You kneel in front of her and gather her into your arms.

“You ok my little one?” She nods, her temperature feels fine and she doesn’t look particularly ill.

“Yeah, I just felt a bit poorly.”

“Been sick?” She shakes her little head. “Ok, shall we go home?” You put her coat on her, get both of your bags and put your wet jacket back on. She holds onto you limply and you know the 10 minute walk is not going to be fun in the rain. “Up you come,” you tell her, gesturing to your back. As soon as she’s got her arms looped around your neck and her little legs around your waist, you step up into your heels. Andy watches with no intention of offering a lift and no comments on the rain outside.

“Dad?” Lexie asks quietly.

“Sorry kiddo, some of us have got some work to finish.”

“We’re ok babe, we can manage.” You say firmly, you don’t want to argue with him in front of Lexie. Roy’s low voice in your ear: don’t let him make you cry. Fortunately his flat is on the ground floor so there are no stairs to navigate. You step out into the rain and start down the road towards your house. You only just reach the corner onto the main road when you see his car up ahead, pulled over. He nips out into the rain, walks up to meet you and takes Lexie off your back, she cuddles up to him while he takes her back to the car and puts her in the back. Without her on you, you can jog the short distance to the car and the two of you get into the front, your doors slamming in unison. You don’t know what to say. You stare at him as he starts the car and pulls out onto the main road.

“Alright, I waited. Don’t be fucking weird about it.” He mutters, reaching to the backseat and handing you a black sweater. You peel off your soaking jacket, so cold that you don’t give a thought to the state of your blouse underneath until Lexie draws attention to it.

“Mum, I can see your bra!” Lexie giggles from the backseat.

“Yeah, thanks honey. The rain got me.” You pull on the sweater, his scent surrounding you in an overwhelmingly wonderful way. It’s almost enough to distract you from the embarrassment of the wet t-shirt competition. Almost. He gets Lexie out of the car and carries her to the house while you get the bags. She’s soon off inside getting her wet coat and school uniform off, you hover in the small hallway next to Roy. “Thank you for everything today.”

“It’s nothing.” He tries to brush off.

“It’s not nothing, far from it. Lexie’s own dad couldn’t even be arsed to drive her home. Here,” you move to take off the sweater,

“Keep it. Suits you.” He says, halfway out the door. “See you later.” You're still watching the space where his car had been long after it drives off.

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fic #roy kent fluff #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fic #roy kent x reader #roy kent

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rotzaprachim · 6 months

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Works written decades ago, often by female Jewish immigrants, were dismissed as insignificant or unmarketable. But in the past several years, translators devoted to the literature are making it available to a wider readership. -

By Joseph Berger

Feb. 6, 2022

In “Diary of a Lonely Girl, or the Battle Against Free Love,” a sendup of the socialists, anarchists and intellectuals who populated New York’s Lower East Side in the early 20th century, Miriam Karpilove writes from the perspective of a sardonic young woman frustrated by the men’s advocacy of unrestrained sexuality and their lack of concern about the consequences for her.

When one young radical tells the narrator that the role of a woman in his life is to “help me achieve happiness,” she observes in an aside to the reader: “I did not feel like helping him achieve happiness. I felt that I’d feel a lot better if he were on the other side of the door.”

In a review for Tablet magazine, Dara Horn compared the book to “Sex and the City,” “Friends” and “Pride and Prejudice.” Though it was published by Syracuse University Press in English in 2020, Karpilove, who immigrated to New York from Minsk in 1905, wrote it about a century ago, and it was published serially in a Yiddish newspaper starting in 1916.

Jessica Kirzane, an assistant instructional professor of Yiddish at the University of Chicago who translated the novel, said that her students are drawn to its contemporary echoes of men using their power for sexual advantage. “The students are often surprised that this is someone whose experiences are so relatable even though the writing was so long ago,” she said in an interview.

Yiddish novels written by women have remained largely unknown because they were never translated into English or never published as books. Unlike works translated from the language by such male writers as Sholem Aleichem, Isaac Bashevis Singer and Chaim Grade, Yiddish fiction by women was long dismissed by publishers as insignificant or unmarketable to a wider audience.

But in the past several years, there has been a surge of translations of female writers by Yiddish scholars devoted to keeping the literature alive.

Madeleine Cohen, the academic director of the Yiddish Book Center in Amherst, Mass., said that counting translations published or under contract, there will have been eight Yiddish titles by women — including novels and story collections — translated into English over seven years, more than the number of translations in the previous two decades.

Yiddish professors like Kirzane and Anita Norich, who translated “A Jewish Refugee in New York,” by Kadya Molodovsky, have discovered works by scrolling through microfilms of long-extinct Yiddish newspapers and periodicals that serialized the novels. They have combed through yellowed card catalogs at archives like the YIVO Institute for Jewish Research, searching for the names of women known for their poetry and diaries to see if they also wrote novels.

“This literature has been hiding in plain sight, but we all assumed it wasn’t there,” said Norich, a professor emeritus of English and Judaic Studies at the University of Michigan. “Novels were written by men while women wrote poetry or memoirs and diaries but didn’t have access to the broad worldview that men did. If you’ve always heard that women didn’t write novels in Yiddish, why go looking for it?”

But look for it Norich did. It has been painstaking, often tedious work but exciting as well, allowing Norich to feel, she said, “like a combination of sleuth, explorer, archaeologist and obsessive.”

“A Jewish Refugee in New York,” serialized in a Yiddish newspaper in 1941, centers on a 20-year-old from Nazi-occupied Poland, who escapes to America to live with her aunt and cousins on the Lower East Side. Instead of offering sympathy, the relatives mock her clothing and English malapropisms, pay scant attention to her fears about her European relatives’ fate and try to sabotage her budding romances.

Until Norich’s translation was published by Indiana University Press in 2019, there had been only one book of Yiddish fiction by an American woman — Blume Lempel — translated into English, Norich said. (Two non-American writers had been translated: Esther Singer Kreitman, the sister of Isaac Bashevis Singer, who settled in Britain, and Chava Rosenfarb, a Canadian who translated herself.)

The new translations are stirring a smidgen of optimism among Yiddish scholars and experts for a language whose extinction has long been fretted over but has never come to pass. Yiddish is the lingua franca of many Hasidic communities, but their adherents rarely read secular works. And it has faded away in everyday conversation among the descendants of the hundreds of thousands of East European immigrants who brought the language to the United States in the late 19th century.

The new translations are being read by people interested in everyday life in East European shtetls and immigrant ghettos in the United States as told from a woman’s perspective. They are also being read by students at the nation’s two dozen campuses with Yiddish programs. “Students were often surprised by how unsentimental these female novelists are, how wide-ranging are their themes, and how frank they are about female desire,” Norich said.

With a grant from the Yiddish Book Center, a 42-year-old nonprofit that seeks to revitalize Yiddish literature and culture, Norich is now translating a second novel: “Two Feelings,” by Celia Dropkin (1887-1956), a Russian immigrant who was admired for her erotically charged poems but never known as a novelist.

“Two Feelings” had been serialized in The Yiddish Forward in 1934 and then forgotten. It tells the story of a married woman who struggles to reconcile her feelings for, as Norich put it, a “husband she loves because he is a good man, and a lover she loves because he is a good lover though not a good man.”

One recent volume, “Oedipus in Brooklyn,” is a collection of stories by Blume Lempel (1907-99), the daughter of a Ukrainian kosher butcher. After spending a decade in Paris, she, her husband and their two children immigrated to New York in 1939, where she began writing for Yiddish newspapers.

In an introduction, her translators, Ellen Cassedy and Yermiyahu Ahron Taub, describe Lempel as “drawn to subjects seldom explored by other Yiddish writers in her time: abortion, prostitution, women’s erotic imaginings, incest.” Her sentences, they add, “often evoke an unsettling blend of splendor and menace.”

In promotional copy for the book, Cynthia Ozick called it “a splendid surprise” and asked: “Why should Isaac Bashevis Singer and Chaim Grade monopolize this rich literary lode?”

The recent books have mostly been published by academic presses in small runs, many of them financed by fellowships and stipends from the Yiddish Book Center. Despite the books’ contemporary themes, said Cohen, the center’s academic director, it has been an uphill battle to persuade mainstream trade publishers to acquire titles by women writers who are generally unknown and previously untranslated.

The scholars work independently, though they occasionally meet at conferences and panel discussions. Their life stories offer a window into the evolution of Yiddish.

Kirzane learned the language not in her childhood home but at the University of Virginia and in a doctoral program at Columbia University. Norich, the daughter of Yiddish-speaking Holocaust survivors from Poland, was born after the war in a displaced persons camp in Bavaria and was raised in the Bronx, continuing to speak Yiddish with her parents and brother.

When her daughter Sara was born, she made an effort to speak only Yiddish to her but gave up when Sara was 5. “You need a community to have a language grow,” she said.

These translators believe that the newly translated novels by women will enrich the teaching of Yiddish. Yiddish is, after all, called the mamaloshen — mother’s tongue — and a woman’s perspective, they said, has long been missing.

#yiddish #literature #women's literature #jewish culture #articles

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sun-stricken · 3 months

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Headcannoms about friendship between Bickslow and Gray? I like to think after the fighting festival he really tries to make it up to Gray.

Gray: ‘we’re chill. It’s fine.’

Bickslow: ‘my babies will now perform a dance of apology’

Also a scenario I’d like to share!

Lucy: hey, Gray I picked up your mail. Why do you have a letter from a modelling agency?

Gray: oh that. I don’t know they just keep sending me them even though I’ve told them no.

Lucy: you’ve turned them down repeatedly?! *while crying inside*

Gray: yeah? It’s weird ‘cause I didn’t even apply.

Lucy: Lucy kick!

i for some reason hadn’t considered the idea of them having a close friendship, but i am now so here! a gift !

i had so much fun with this

* my personal hc is that Bickslows dolls feel a lot of what he himself feels, and also theyre kinda like birds

* so they too try to make it up to Gray, they bring him little things they find, such as shiny rocks, pins, and other tiny objects they find

* Bickslow just nods in approval from the sidelines when they bring them to Gray

* They were both fairly awkward with each other post festival but after Bickslow gave Gray an honest apology they began to turn over a new leaf

* people find the friendship strange tbh, Gray is known as this vaguely calm and like, super normal guy, and Bickslow is just— not

* theyre surprisingly comfortable with each other

* they dont hang out a lot outside the guild, but thats not to say they dont ever,

* While they dont work the best together and it took a while be able to fight along side on another,

* If the Thunder Legion and Team Natsu have to pair up usually they do bc they’re comfortable with each other and trust can go a long way

* theyre both texting fiends, like its a problem how much they message their friends, so when they found out the other was the same oh my god was it a train wreck

* their conversations can go for hours and if you read through them youd probably have an aneurysm because the topics make no sense and Bix doesn’t even try to spell correctly

* They have gotten close and friendly but that doesnt mean theu ever know what to expect from the other, their opinions and thoughts are so different from each other, if rhey ever have the same idea its like all the stars and planet’s have aligned and world is about to end

* Bickslows hair is naturally black and Gray helped him dye it once and they deadass looked they walk out the smurf set for weeks, Bix’s bathroom looked like they murdered a hundred of them

* Gray has an affinity for collecting hand weapons (swords, spears, bows, etc) while Bickslow likes taking apart and building old bombs (actual explosive grenades, land mines, smoke/flash grenades)

* they bonded over it and talked about it in public and terrified about 20 people rhat were in earshot

* theyre both a big hit with kids

* Bickslow gets added to the long list of people who barge into Gray house unannounced

* a lot of the time they will talk (coughcomplaincough) about two different things in the same convo

* Bickslow: the cops were at my door again last night because of the inactive grenade i threw in the fountain, woke me up and everything

* Gray: ugh, i hate that, Natsu blew up a building again and Erza yelled at the both of us

* Bickslow: thats so rude, do you think i should make another one and send it to them?

* Gray: totally, she knew it wasnt me but i still got scolded

so happy ppl have realized how pretty Gray is, now we’re gonna talk abt it bc im an overachiever

* Hes been scouted by plenty of different modeling agencies over the years, which really boosted his ego but very quickly became annoying as hell bc he never even applied

* He gets a couple a month, and he accepted once just to get them off his back and found it really embarrassing bc he was everywhere

* his friends in and outside the guild bought the magazines he was featured in and teased him mercilessly and he never stepped foot in another agency ever again

* Hes really photogenic but hates gets his photo taken, most of the pictures hes in ‘willingly’ hes glaring at the camera

* he now just blocks the numbers they call him on and throws out the letter they send him, if they stop him on the street he will walk away before the conversation even starts

* when Lucy found out something inside her died a little

* she pestered him about it and said she’ll go with him! he wont even have to take the money for it! she’ll take it! 😁

* she gets shot down every time but that doesnt mean she quit trying

#fairy tail #gray fullbuster #bickslow #ft bickslow #wth is his last name #sun strickens ft #sun stricken answers #anon ask #major mAJOR chaotic + normal chaotic #fairy tail headcanons #fairy tail incorrect quotes #gray is pretty im so happy ppl agree #hes pretty in universe too #i do make the rules #is it caller the thunder legion?#it is now

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truefant4sy · 4 months

Text

EP 1: "you really know how to make me cry when you give me those ocean eyes" | the first episode of Sweet & Salty

the first episode to my new series 'sweet & salty' Centered around the Hulu show 'The bear.'

warnings: kinda fluff, a smidge of angst, a lot of nostalgia,kissing,almost smut

"shittt okay vee so either we go stupid and get 4lokos or we get some nasty ass bear and just chug that" i looked at my best friend awaiting her answer "um..be stupid and grab them damn 4lokos" vee laughed showing her pink braced teeth "okay I'll go grab some chips and shit. This is finna be our best movie night yet" i clapped my hands together and grabbed about 4 4lokos out of the cold liquor store freezer i look around the store for a minute then walked up to the counter "uh my friend is getting everything else can i just sit those here?" i asked the bored counter clerk he simply nodded and continued looking at the erotic magazine. 'Fucking cunt' i thought before walking over to the candy isle as i looked around i could feel a presence looming over me like the feeling you get when you teacher is standing over you during a test "damn can you mo-" i turned around and stopped my sentence "my bad..Jojo?" i eternally cringed at the high school nickname "hi carmen" i nodded trying to shake the awkwardness off "eh..how are you?" he asked me shifting from on foot on to the other "good. I uh went to New York and got my degree" i told him.

It was always easy to tell him everything "yeah? i went to New York last year" he smiled "yeah? i heard through the grapevine that you got yourself a restaurant" he rubbed at his face and nodded "i do" he said in a monotone voice. i wanted to bring up Mikey but i just decided against it "can i ask you something Jojo?" he looked at me waiting for me to say something "did you really get the uh..tattoo removed..like you said you would?" he asked me.

I said two years ago when i left for New York and said that i was gonna get the tattoo i got of his name removed and i did not do it whatsoever.

"no I didn't actually" I turned to the right and moved my hair to show him the small letter that began at the back of my ear and ended and the bottom of my neck "well that's good..You got something planned tonight?" he asked me before waving his hands "not that like I wanna come over or something like that" I laughed only laughed at him trying to explain it "yeah me and vee are having a sleep over slash movie night I guess since I'm back" I told him trying not to be so awkward "that sounds fun..I'm sorry I didn't call you- or try to" he looked down at the ground "it's fine Carmen I should have cut you off like that" he chuckled "it's fine i mean at least I'm still Carmel to you" he shrugged dramatically "yes you are" i smiled "uh..can I have your number?..to stay in contact of course" he asked before looking away once our eyes locked "yeah can i see your phone" i twisted my necklace 'stop doing that' i dropped my necklace.

he handed me his phone for me to type my number in I called my number to make sure it rung and it did "I'll save your number now" I told him as I pulled out my phone "you still have that photo?" he shook his head and smiled, I looked at my case and saw the collection of high school Polaroids I kept one of us doing nothing but just looking at each other "yeah I don't throw away shit" I said before saving his number "josie did you-" vee stopped in her tracks and sighed "well hi Carmel macchiato" she shook her head and laughed before giving him a quick side hug "hey vee" he said simply "still got your braces I see" he said sarcastically "shut up I'm getting them off next week dude" she rolled her green eyes "I'm just fucking with you" he said patting her shoulder "I know carm" she laughed "well hurry and grabbed some shit josie I wanna go watch that movie" she sighed and walked over to the counter.

"alright" I nodded "you should the nerd's ropes" carmen stated "yeah? okay then" I grabbed the nerd's ropes and looked at them they did seem good "and um get chocolate too because too much fruit flavored candy makes you-" I interrupted him "throw up? I know carmen" I laughed and grabbed some twixs and snickers "alright well I'll call you tonight if that's okay?" he asked me running a hand thru his wild curly hair "yeah of course" he nodded and walked to the back of the store to grab a drink "bye Jojo" he looked at him from over his should "bye carm"

My fucking stomach hurts and I now remember every reason why I don't fucking drink 4lokos anymore because my god.

Vee was in the bathroom throwing up everything she ate and drunk today, and I sat there trying not fucking cry from how much my stomach was killing me "Vierra? Vee?" I called to her trying to see if she was okay thru my own pain "yes" she said weakly "I stood up and walked over to the bathroom to see her resting her blonde head on the side on my tub "I have clothes just shower and ill uh..door dash or something" I said still clenching at my stomach "no..I don't want door dash" she replied drunkly "I want you to get your boyfriend carmen over here so he can cook" she burped "carmen isn't and wasn't my boyfriend Vierra" I shook my head at what she had said.

He was my best friend "Fuck you. Just get that man over here because I'm fucking hungry Josephine" I nodded and walked over to my dresser to grab her some clothes "okay ill call him just please shower" I helped her get up and get undressed before I ran her a bath making sure to some of those calming bath salts that I bought last week.

After I got her into the bath I stepped out at plopped down on my bed before grabbing the painkillers in my night stand and popping two of them into my mouth and chasing it with a water 'call carmen' I groaned and listened to my head before picking up my phone at first my thumb just hovered over his name in my phone "fuck it" I pressed the button and waited for him to pick him which wasn't a long wait "Josephine?" his voice was deep and soft "I'm sorry were you uh sleeping?" I asked him knowing the answer considering that it was 12:52 "kinda. Whatcha need?" he asked me and I kind of hesitated "um could you come over and make something to eat for me and vee, she specifically asked for to cook" I told him my leg bouncing with anxiety "yeah. I can" he said groaning "okay. I'll send you, my address."

It wasn't long before he was knocking at the door of my apartment I got up from the bed and opened the door "hi josie" he looked so tired 'and so fine' I shook my head at stepped aside to let him in "I'm sorry to wa-" I tried to apologize but he interrupted me "it's fine. I rather it be you anyways" he groaned and ran his hand thru his hair again "what does she want to eat?" he asked me while he looked around my kitchen pulling out pots and pans "chicken alfredo" I leaned against the island in my kitchen he nodded "josie? is your boyfriend here?" a drunk Vierra called out of my bedroom "vee yes he's here and he's not boyfriend" I sighed and carmen only scratched his head I took a seat in the barstool at my island and just watched him.

"you just gonna stare or are you gonna tell me about New York?" he was going back in forth from my fridge to the stove to the cabinet cooking away "well if you don't mind I'm gonna do both" I giggled 'like a damn school girl' I shook my head "well uh in New York I ate a shit ton of food and the people aren't that bad" I scratched my head "yeah? what all did you eat?" he asked me as he added a stick of butter to a pan "everything. Like I basically ate at every fucking restaurant I could find" I laughed "still got a huge ass appetite I see" he shook he head and turned around to give me a quick smile 'that was cute' "yes that was" "hm?" he looked at me "I said yes I do. I'm a hungry whore..like the game hungry hippo but sluttier" he shook his head and put his hands on his hips "gotta be nicer to yourself" I rolled my eyes at his words "Josephine."

I threw my hands up " okay I'm gonna be nicer to myself carmen" I stuck my tongue out at him "now. Where's your pasta?" he asked me still stirring and picking stuff in a skillet "in the last cabinet to the left he opened the cabinet and looked at me "only 3 packs josie? I should be ashamed" when he said that I remembered Michael saying the same thing 2 years back before I left for New York "uh carmen...I'm really sorry about Mikey" I sighed "it's fine."

he said quickly and bluntly "is the food done yet?" Vierra shouted from my room "no vee not yet" carmen shouted back "can you pull out some plates Jojo?" he asked me still focused on the stove and making sure the pasta didn't over boil "..yes chef" I stood up from the stool and made my way over to the dishwasher were I pulled out a few heart shaped plates "that's cute" he said looking at the plates "I know right?" I replied back "oh uh..could I see your room...? because I uh remembered how narly your bedroom was when we were kids so I just thought it would y'know still be uh..cool" he ran his hand through his hair "yeah. It's still narly probably even more narly because I got my own money to puy any decoration I want" he laughed "yeah your apartment is cute" stirred the pot again as he complimented me "aw your sweet carmy that's why I call you Carmel" he laughed.

Finally the food was done and Vierra ate that shit down "this is why we love carmen right josie?" she wiped her mouth after eating her 3 plate "mhm" I only nodded my head to what she said "bye" vee got up from her seat at my island and went back into my room "well at least she's happy" carmen joked as I stood up to put the dishes in the sink "do you uh..want me to go or?" he asked me at he rested his chin the palm of his hand "no. I mean you should stay" he nodded.

We sat in silence for a bit, "you know what? last week when I had gone to that same liquor store guess who I saw" carmen looked at me "uh who?" I asked "Claire" I rolled my eyes at his answer "you know I don't her." I rolled my eyes again "can I ask why?" he tilted his head in a boyish manner "yes because she was a fucking bully, so I punched in her stupid fucking face. Shes still one of those manic pixie dream girls" he nodded "that was funny" he laughed.

"wanna go sit on the couch?" I asked him as I stood up stretching my body 'those stools hurt.' carmen nodded and walked behind her they both plopped down on the couch and just sat there again in silence to take in each other's presence "legs?" carmen looked at me "legs." I nodded and put my legs in his lap like how we did when we were just high school students, we always said it like that "I really fucking missed you carmy" she admitted to him he only nodded his head in agreement "why did we even stop talking?" carmen asked his eyes staring holes through me "you blew up at me the week before I was supposed to leave for New York..so I just thought that the end" I admitted to him 'why the fuck am I telling him everything' "I didn't mean to. I was just-" he gave up on his sentenced and just sighed "it's fine. We're over that now, right?" I asked him softly putting a comforting hand on his should "right." he nodded.

"My mom asked about you." I told him as I traced little shapes onto his skin "she did? what did she say?" he asked his head back on the couch, his eyes closed in a relaxed manner "Just the usual like 'what happened to carmen?' and 'where's carmen?' " I told him giggling at my mom's nosiness he laughed, as he laughed, I just stared at him.

I kind of forgot how..pretty he was in a weird way, like he was pretty but in a manly sense and handsome in a chaotic way his hair crazy his eyes stared holes through my soul when he would look at me his random tattoos the littered his skin his chaotic-ness never failed to calm me at the worst moments even when he made me cry I could never blame him.

"weird question." i said he opened one eye and looked at me "yeah?" he waited for me to ask "can i uh..kiss you? sorry if thats weird" i blurted out quietly making sure I didn't wake up vierra "no its not weird. And uh yeah" his head lifted from the couch as my hand held his cheek his eyes closed for a second as if he was embracing the feeling of my skin on his all over again I leaned in our foreheads just touching the tips of our noses brushing against each other with each breath, his nose and skin were always cold 'just kiss' I listened to the small voice in my head and kissed him and the feeling was intensified by a thousand.

I never knew it was possible to miss a person this much as I missed how his lips felt on mine. When we were in high school we only ever kissed once as a joke but this time was, weirdly real and love filled I guess I just knew I did want it to end My hands ran through his hair "fuck" he murmured softly into my mouth this wasn't how I planned to spend my first week back in Chicago at all but his chaotic-ness always went with my straight forward plans which was why we were such good friends in high school but instead I was the chaotic one and he was the straight forward planned one 'the roles always switch with him'.

His tongue wrapped my very own making my body quiver his hands held my back as he softly pushed me down onto my light pink sofa he didn't break the kiss as he got onto the sofa more his arms now on both sides of my head, he softly grabbed my legs and put them on his waist as a sign for me to wrap them around his waist he softly pulled away "is this okay?" he asked me his forehead still against mine I nodded he kissed me a few more times before going to my neck kissing and biting at the brown flesh making me cover my mouth so I could keep quiet 'you went 2 years without sex by the way' the same small voice reminded me in my head, he lifted my shirt up and began to kiss my stomach making my eyes flutter "god save me." I muttered under my breath as he looked up at me as if he wanted approval.

My hands grabbed at his hair his kisses got slower and lower then by bedroom door sung open "have you guys-" Vierra stopped in the door way making carmen sit up and pull my shirt down "oh uh fuck my bad" Vierra awkwardly turned around and went back into my room "well fuck." carmen groaned and rubbed his face "I should get going" he stood up and grabbed his phone and keys "alright" I stood up with him and opened the door, before he walked out he kind of just stopped "I missed you too" he said in a quiet voice "I know you did." I said sarcastically making him roll his eyes before he walked out of the door, he hugged me. Giving me the biggest bear hug ever and he smelled great "see you later Josephine" he let go of me "see you later carmy and text me when you get home okay?" he smiled and nodded and before I knew it, he was in the elevator on his was down to the lobby. I closed my door and locked it.

And there he was again, already back in my life changing the course of everything once again.

#Spotify #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmy x reader #black writblr #black and white #the bear #jeremy allen white #i love him #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto

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hoodharlow · 2 years

Text

Birthday Revelations

AN: not me posting within the same week as part 9 🤭🤭🤭

Requested? This one scene for my bby Zooty

Warnings: angst Jack and Miriam argue in the first half but make up , brief mentions of smut, and nosy tiktokers

Miriam was in one of the guest rooms in Jack's house in Louisville sorting some of her clothes. They flew in last night from Miami. They had just gotten back from Jack’s work trip to Turks and Caicos. He got his dream collab with Drake and they recorded their song there. Miriam didn’t do much other than work on her tan, read her script for the movie role she auditioned for and got, and hang out with Adonis in the resort Drake rented out.

“Are you ready?” Jack asked, popping his head in the room.

“No, I have no idea what to wear.” she sighed. She was in a Calvin Klein bra and panty set with one of Jack's flannels over it.

“We’re having breakfast with my parents and grandma. I don’t think they care what you wear.”

“Okay give me ten minutes.” she said, waving him out of the room.

She decided on a Paco Robanne crystal net and chain-link dress from the fall 2019 collection to go on top of a black tight, long sleeve knit dress from Cult Gia. She finished off the look with her black Versace platform boots. Since it was still cold she was wearing the ACNE Studios leather shearling jacket Jack gave her.

Once she was ready, she disconnected her phone from the charger and slipped it in her jacket’s pocket. Lastly, she grabbed Jack’s present from one of her trunks. When they were in Miami, Katalina was there on a girls trip with her other model friends and dropped off a trunk for Miriam. It had more appropriate clothes for the cold Kentucky weather. She also stored Jack's present there because he was nosy and liked to go through her luggage. He was too jetlagged to even notice that Miriam had another bag with her.

“Are you serious?” Jack asked her when she made her way, taking her in her disco ball look.

“What?” she asked.

“You didn't have to dress so fucking extra, Miriam.” he said, opening the passenger door for her.

Miriam was taken back by his comment. She knew she tended to over-dress for every occasion, even if she was being unintentional about it. So hearing Jack say that hurt her feelings because it was Miriam's thing. She used fashion as a way to express herself and she hates it when people dismiss it.

Fashion was very time consuming and analytical. It's not just thinking something is cute and pairing it with something else and calling it a day. A lot goes into making a look, designing a clothing collection, planning a runaway show, a magazine lookbook or anything that has to do with fashion.

Jack noticed the large box wrapped in the Cardinals logo with a red bow in the corner sitting on her lap. “What’s that?”

"Your present." She mumbled.

"You okay?" He asked, noticing her demeanor change.

"Yeah, I'm just jet lagged."

She shifted in her seat and curled up aguant it, giving Jack her back. She pulled out her phone to check with her parents. While she was at it she posted a video of the Tesla Miriam drove in the Nail Tech video getting towed and Jack was laughing songard he couldn't breathe to her Instagram Stories. She also reposted Lil Nas X's birthday to post Jack. Specifically the slide. It was a picture of the three of them from Jack's birthday last year. Jack had his arm wrapped around her chest and she hugged his arm while his other arm was lazily around Nas's shoulders.

She checked her texts and saw one from Jenna Ortega. She was asking if she could post a video of the three of them. It was from last year when she and Miriam were filming their show, which has been getting rave reviews (especially about Miriam because she was able to dominate the screen even though she had a recurring role). Miriam and Jenna were supposed to film a scene where they're at a high school party and a song they both like played in the background as they took shots. The director let Miriam pick the song so she chose SUNDOWN, but Jenna didn't know it. Coincidentally Jack had gone by to drop some snacks for Miriam so he taught Jenna the lyrics. He took the teacher role a bit too seriously and had the girls clutching their sides with how hard he was making them laugh.

"Jenna wants to know if she could post the video she took from when you were teaching her the lyrics to SUNDOWN." She asked him, breaking their silence.

"If you're okay with it." He said, turning to the street he used to live on.

Miriam nodded and texted Jenna it was okay to post it.

They reached his parents' house and exited the car. Jack noticed Miriam didn't wait for him to open the door for her. He quickly deduced she was mad at him based on that alone. He didn't know why, but it explained why when he tried to rest his hand on her thigh, she was facing toward the window. He watched her walk ahead of him and greet his family. He hugged his parents and grandma.

When they all went inside, Miriam had disappeared. Monét, Clay's girlfriend, told him she excused herself and went upstairs to get something. While his mom and grandma set up the table, Jack snuck upstairs to check on Miriam.

He walked in and found her folding the clothes she arrived in. For some reason she changed out of them into a pair of jeans and a black turtleneck shirt she had left with him.

"Why did you change?" He asked her.

"You said I was dressed extra." She said, not looking at him.

"Are you seriously upset because I said you’re dressed extra?" Jack asked, chuckling in disbelief.

Miriam huffed angrily and quickly composed herself, saying, "I'm not gonna start something that's obviously going to lead to an argument at your parents' house."

After breakfast Jack and Miriam went back to his house to catch up on some rest because they had a long night ahead of them. First they were having dinner with Jack's family then they were going to meet with Jack's friends to celebrate him and Urban.

Miriam gave him the silent treatment the whole drive home. When they got to his house, she went straight to the guest room. Jack, not in the mood to argue with her, retreated to his bedroom and napped. His sleep schedule was off from all the traveling they did in the last few days. But now it was time for them to get ready for dinner.

He knocked on the guestroom door and poked his head. Miriam was laying in bed, watching Jersey Shore on her MacBook wrapped up in her blanket.

"We have about two hours before we have to meet my parents for dinner." He said.

"I'm not going," she said, pulling the blanket over her head.

"Why?" He furrowed his eyebrows. From what his mom said, Miriam was the one who made the reservations.

"I don't have anything to wear." She said still not looking at him.

"What do you mean you have nothing to wear?" He asked confused, looking around the room full of clothes.

"I don't have anything that isn't 'extra'." She finger quoted as she got off bed.

'Not this shit again' he thought to himself when she brought up 'extra' once more. He rubbed his temples. "Why are you so upset? They're just clothes."

"They're not just clothes to me!" She yelled, frustrated. "You obviously don't get that because half of the time you're dressed like a gym teacher dresses like he tries too hard and the other times you get clothes picked out for you. I could easily go off talking about your music, but I won't because I respect you enough not to talk out of my ass about something I don't understand but is important to you."

She took his silence as a response and got back in bed. She pulled the blanket over her and pressed play in her show.

Jack, not wanting to make her even more upset, left the room. He pulled out his phone and texted Mede. She got upgraded from friend's baby mama to assistant because of how organized she is and was able to help Miriam sort her traveling schedule. He wrote that he upset Miriam by calling her clothes 'extra' and he needed help to fix things. Mede replied with her go-to Jerry meme where the mouse made a 'you're joking' look. Seconds later she sent him a series of articles from various fashion magazines.

What caught his attention was that all the articles were written by Miriam. The first one that was published was from 2016 for Cosmopolitan Mexico and the most recent was for Vanity Fair posted a few days after The Batman premiere they attended. Jack skimmed them all. He was caught off guard at how articulate Miriam was. Obviously he knew she was smart. She never lets him forget that she got a degree in applied mathematics with a focus on quantum mechanics from UC Berkeley. He was just impressed at the attention to detail and how she was able to break down and explain things for people who didn't know much about fashion, but still write eloquently.

All in all he felt like an asshole. He should have known better than to have called her extra. He texted Mede thank you and she replied with another meme. This time it was a sassy chihuahua.

He went down to the kitchen and fixed her a matcha latte with oat milk as a peace offering. He added a handful of the tiny ice cubes Miriam liked. He followed the instructions of the back of the matcha tin and whisked some matcha powder with hot water. Lastly he poured the matcha and oat milk into the cup of ice and he carried the drink upstairs.

When he reached the guest room, he saw that the door was open, but he still knocked. Miriam sat in front of the vanity, outlining her face with different shades of brown and pink. She was dressed in a short silky robe.

"Yes?" She asked, squatting down in one of her trunks and grabbed a pair of tall red bottoms. "Did you need something?"

Jack was taken by surprise with how calm Miriam was. They had argued not even an hour ago.

"Jack? You okay?" She asked, reaching for the beauty blender when she sat back in the vanity. She gently dabbed it on her face.

"Uh," he cleared his throat. "I just came to apologize."

"You don't have to." Miriam said.

Through the mirror she watched Jack sit on the edge of the bed.

"Yes I do. You were right. I shouldn't have minimized what you do and–"

"Jack, you're not the for nor will you be the last person to make those types of comments." She said, turning around to face him. "No one really takes me seriously. People see me as some spoiled rich girl who buys whatever I want and thanks to my parents I get everything handed to me. When I was in college I went through the same shit. There was a girl in my Latin American studies who took every comment I said out of context and tried make me sound stupid. The classes I took for my major were filled with rich dude bros who tried to make me feel inferior. At the end of the day, I don't care about what other people think. I was just hurt by your comments, but I'm over it."

"Miriam, let me apologize."

"I already told you I'm over it."

"You deserve an apology though." Jack said, pulling her to his lap. He ran his hands over her thighs then his blue eyes met her brown ones. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I was out of line for calling you and your clothes extra. I have no excuse other than being an idiot. One of the things I love about you is how confident you are in your style. And–"

"Jack you're rambling." Miriam said, wrapping her arms around him.

"Shit," he mumbled as his cheeks flushed a bright pink.

"But I accept your apology." She said, gently scratching his beard.

They both leaned in for a kiss. Miriam cupped his cheek and deepened their kiss. She pulled away and gently pushed Jack down onto the mattress. With one arm, Jack wrapped his arm around her and gently tossed her onto the middle of the bed. He hovered over her and they resumed kissing.

One of his hands made its way down Miriam's body and untied her robe, revealing that she only wore lace thong under. He slightly pushed her legs apart so he could fit between her thighs. He wrapped his arms around her body and kissed her collarbones. He made his way down, nipping and sucking her breasts, not carrying that he left any marks.

"Were you being serious when you said that I could do whatever I wanted to you since it's my birthday?" He asked, looking up from her stomach.

"In theory." Miriam shrugged.

"Mhm." He responded.

Jack cupped Miriam's breasts and shoved his face between them. He pushed her breasts against his head and shook his head from side to side whilst making motorboat sounds.

"Did you just motorboat my tits?" She asked him, watching him kiss down her body.

"Yes, and I'll do it again, but first I want to eat my favorite meal." He said.

He sat on his knees and tugged Miriam's thong off her. He settled back down, placing her thighs on his shoulders, and dug in.

"Unzip me."

Miriam turned around so Jack could unzip her dress. She wore a custom black Valentino cocktail dress that reached mid thigh. It had a unique design of a semi, yet elegant, but revealing opening on the bodice. She paired it with thigh stockings, a pair of black five inch red bottoms and of course her black ACNE Studios coat that Jack got her.

"Damn, Miriam, you couldn't have waited until after the parking lot emptied." Jack teased her as he unhooked the fastener that had the zipper.

"You wish." She said before climbing to the backseat.

They had just finished dinner and were on their way to a bowling alley where the original birthday party was supposed to be held. Which meant it was time for an outfit change for Miriam. She quickly put on a black, off the shoulder, feather lined Christian Cowan minidress. She switched out her red bottoms for a pair of satin D'Accori platform sandals.

Miriam made her way back to the passenger seat and buckled up. She glanced over to Jack. He wore a shit-eating grin.

"What?" She asked, tugging down the dress.

"You look beautiful." He said.

"I know." She said as she pulled out a makeup wipe.

"You're not gonna compliment me?" He gestured to his outfit. He wore a blue and white plaid button down with black pants and all white 550s.

"Uh," she began, trying to find something that stood out to her. "The blue is a nice shade?"

"You're an ass." He fake cried.

Miriam rolled her eyes and sorted through her mini makeup bag as Jack drove to their next destination. She had on a bold red lip for the dinner, but she decided to go for a more natural color. So she wiped off the red lipstick and she swiped on some lip balm and a shimmery rose nude gloss over her lips. She reached for Jack’s hand that was on her thigh and kissed the back of it, marking him. Jack glanced and softly smiled at her.

"I'm sorry everyone crashed the dinner you planned." Jack said, breaking their comfortable silence. "I don't know how Neelam took me telling her you planned a dinner for her to invite everyone to the restaurant. I'll pay you back."

At some point when she was getting ready, Neelam had called Jack to discuss what they were doing before the actual party and he told her that he already had plans. Miriam had rented out an entire upscale steakhouse for Jack and his family to enjoy a nice private meal where they wouldn't be bombarded with people filming them or interrupting Jack to get a picture with him. When the couple arrived at the restaurant, all of Jack and Urban's friends and family were waiting for them. Miriam went inside and tried to sort out with the restaurant because they had an additional thirty more people to feed. Fortunately all their staff was there and the dinner went by smoothly.

"Jack, you're not paying me back. I wanted to treat you and your family to a nice dinner. Sure there were a few more people that attended but I still accomplished what I had planned. Unless you didn't like the dinner."

"Oh no that shit was good," he said, patting his stomach. "Not as good as your pussy I had earlier though."

"You're so annoying." She rolled her eyes.

"Isn't that why you love me?" He grinned.

"Yeah and I'm starting to wonder why?"

Jack rolled his eyes at her comment and placed his hand on her thigh. Miriam flipped it over and clasped her manicured hand over his to cover his PG ring so she could take a picture of their hands. She posted it and placed her phone in her bag.

They arrived shortly at the bowling alley. It was the one Jack was supposed to take Miriam for their first date but they missed it because they ended up spending over three hours at Vincenzo’s talking and enjoying each other's presence.

Jack turned off the engine and quickly got out of the car to open the door for Miriam. He helped her out of the car and placed her jacket over her shoulders. Miriam held onto his arm as they walked over to meet up with everyone.

At the bowling alley there were more people inside. Friends of friends who somehow knew Jack or Urban and managed to get invited. Jack led Miriam to the VIP area where his friends and family were. They went around greeting the group and settled in a navy blue armchair. Miriam sat on Jack's lap.

"Do you want something to drink?" Jack asked her, mindlessly running his hand over her thigh. "We can get you a cocktail or something."

"I'm good." She said nestling, in his chest. "The three wine glasses I had at dinner just hit and I wanna sober up for later tonight."

"What's happening tonight?" He asked her, gently biting her neck.

"Some of that," she whimpered. "But also something involving the teal thong I have under."

"Fuck," Jack groaned.

"But that's later. Right now I wanna bowl." She said, standing up.

Jack led her to the shoe renting station. A server called his name and he went to get the food he ordered whilst Miriam got their shoes. He noticed that when they were at the restaurant she only had a Cesar salad and some mashed potatoes, so he ordered her some plain wings and fries. He made his way to an empty lance and waited for Miriam. Minutes later she came over and sat next to him and pulled out some wet wipes to clean their table.

"You missed a spot." Jack pointed in front of him.

Miriam stood in front of him and leaned forward to wipe down, oblivious to his true intentions. That was until she felt her skirt of her dress bunch up around her hips, exposing her ass to the bowling alley. His hands playfully smacking her ass like he was playing the bongos.

"Stop," she said, reaching back to pull down her skirt. She turned around and found him proudly smiling.

"I like watching your ass jiggle." He shrugged, bringing her down to straddle him. His hand slipped in her skirt, toying with the teal thong. "These feel nice. Are these from Victoria's Secret?"

"Victoria's Secret?" She cringed. "Last time I wore that shitty brand was when I was in high school. My pussy is selective about what goes near it."

"Glad I made the cut." He grinned confidently.

“And now I’m starting to reconsider.” she said without missing a beat. “Anyways, we should start bowling, that's what we came for." She said, grabbing a tray of wings and carrying them to the scoreboard in front of them.

"Wait, we forgot to give you the kiddie lane." Jack said. "At Calum's birthday your bowling ball spent more time in the gutter."

He was referring to Calum's birthday a few weeks ago that was also held at a bowling alley similar to the one they were in.

“I don't need them, I’m actually good at bowling. At Cal’s party you were distracting me.” she said, typing their nicknames on the scoreboard. Jack’s was ‘Harleezy’ and hers was ‘movie star’.

“I was not.” he totally was. She wore a mini skirt and Jack stood behind her to make sure no one saw her lack of shorts under her skirt.

“Whatever, this time I’m not gonna let you distract me.” she said, tying her bowling shoes.

“I don’t need to if you’re gonna just be in the gutter.” he said walking up to the lane.

“Your balls wish they were in my gutter.” she said as he tossed the ball.

Jack dropped the ball when he heard her say that. He cursed and watched the bowling ball roll into the gutter. He dropped his shoulders in defeat and walked back to Miriam.

“My turn.” she said, picking a bowling ball. She effortlessly scored a strike. Miriam turned to Jack and shrugged.

In the hour they’ve been playing, Jack was quick to learn that Miriam was really good at bowling. She mostly got strikes, saved for the occasional spare. They were tied which meant their last round was the tie breaker.

“Jack, we’re gonna cut the cake in five.” Neelam said when she approached the pair.

"Okay, we're gonna finish this last round." Jack said, waving her off.

“Jack, c’mon.” she said in a more stern voice.

“I said, we have one more round.” he snapped.

“Jack, it’s fine.” Miriam whispered, not wanting things to escalate. “We can bowl some other time.”

“No!” Jack whisper-yelled. “Why can’t she wait three minutes.”

“Jack, please.” she said.

“Fine.” he rolled his eyes.

The pair took off their bowling shoes and made their way up to the VIP area. Jack went up to the DJ booth with Urban meanwhile Miriam went to sit with Jack’s friends. Her face lit up when she spotted a familiar face.

“When did you get here!” Miriam said, wrapping her arms around Aleena.

“Like ten minutes ago, I was adding the finishing touches to some orders I had.” she said.

Aleena was Sunni’s girlfriend but she was also one of Jack’s friends from high school. Miriam met her last summer when she visited Jack in Louisville for the Fourth of July. But she didn’t get to see her on the 'No Place Like Home' tour because she was in Mexico visiting her family. Aleena owns a panaderia- pastry shop and she always made sure Miriam had her conchas.

Miriam and Aleena made some small talk until it was time for everyone to sing to Jack and Urban.

Jack looked around to everyone as Bryson Tiller got everyone singing ‘happy birthday’ to him and Urban. Jack’s eyes landed on Miriam and he gave her his signature smile. He got everyone to sing to Urban then the two best friends cut their cakes. A server came by and cut pieces of cake for the guests and another one was placing them in a tray to hand out.

Jack took a corner piece for Miriam and took it to her.

“Where’s my cake?” Aleena asked him when he set the slice down in front of Miriam.

“Right here.” Sunni said, squeezing her ass.

She gave him an unamused look then pulled her phone out of Sunni’s pocket and handed it to Jack. “Make yourself useful and take some pictures of us.” she said, fluffing her dark waves.

“What she said.” Miriam said, getting in front of her.

Aleena knelt on the velvet couch so her and Miriam can have height difference in their pictures. Miriam leaned back into her, so Aleena could wrap her arms around her.

“You’re in the frame,” Aleena told her boyfriend, gently nudging him to get off the couch.

They got in position once more, but Aleena had no idea where to put her hands. Given the pose they were doing, the only logical place to put them was on Miriam’s chest.

“Don’t be shy, get a good handful.” Miriam said, pressing Aleena’s hands onto her breasts.

“Or not, Aleena. Keep your hands to yourself.” Jack said.

“Tú no me mandas.” Aleena sassed him, squeezing Miriam’s breasts to annoy him.

Jack looked at Sunni and murmured. “I’m not liking this friendship.”

When they got home, it was close to three in the morning. Miriam yawned as she made her way to the kitchen for some water. She washed the cup and put it on the dish drying rack to dry. She was about to exit the kitchen when she saw her gift still intact sitting on the counter. She furrowed her eyebrows and grabbed it, taking it upstairs to Jack’s room.

“Why is your present still wrapped?” she asked him as he got out of the bathroom in his tank top and grey sweats.

“I felt weird opening it knowing you were mad at me.” he said putting his shoes in his closet.

“Okay, but I’m not mad at you anymore, so you can open it.” Miriam said, handing him the box.

“I forgot to say this, but thank you.” he mumbled between kisses.

Jack took the gift and sat next to her on the bed. He lifted the box close to his ear and shook it, trying to figure out what it was. It sounded big and the box itself was kinda heavy. He placed it on his lap and carefully tore the tape off the wrapping paper so he wouldn’t rip it. He looked at Miriam and rubbed his hands together like Anthony Adams, making her laugh. He pulled the paper off, revealing a blue shoe box with the UK flag on top.

“This better not be what I think it is,” he told her.

“We’ll never know unless you open it.”

Jack removed the top and it was exactly what he thought. They were the exact pair of blue suede Reebok sneakers he had in the fifth grade. He vividly remembered the night of the baseball game when he ruined them in the rain.

“How–” Jack cleared his throat. He sniffled. He looked up at her with tears pooling around his eyes.

“Don’t cry.” Miriam said, hugging him.

“I’m not.” he said, wiping his eyes. “I got something in them.”

“Emotion?”

“Shut up.” he mumbled, wrapping his arm around her. He pecked her lips. “Thank you.”

“You should thank Claudia’s mom. Soni has connections everywhere and she was able to get them for me.”

“Yeah, but I can’t thank her.” he said.

Jack reached to the back of her dress and unzipped it.

Miriam pulled away. “Wait, I had something planned.”

She got off the bed and went to the guest room. She grabbed the teal bra that came with the thong she had under and shimmied out her dress and put it on. She slipped on the silk robe she had on earlier and made her way to Jack’s bedroom.

She entered the room and found him sound asleep. She removed her robe and bra. She opened one of Jack’s drawers and grabbed a t-shirt. She quickly did her nighttime routine and got in bed. She kissed his freckled shoulder.

“I love you Miriam.” he murmured in his sleep.

Around ten in the morning they woke up. Jack laid her down on the bed. With one hand he slightly lifted her head and kissed her. He used his other hand to pull one of her legs over his waist as he deepened their kiss. Miriam pulled away to catch her breath, giving Jack access to her neck. She whimpered his name when she felt his teeth gently biting her.

Having enough of him on her neck, she pulled him back to her lips. She loosened the grip around his waist and used her thighs to grind into him. Jack groaned, feeling how ready she was for him through the sleep shorts she wore. He pulled away from her lips and kissed down to her chest. He tweaked one of her nipples while he nipped and sucked her other breast.

Mede’s designated ringtone blared, making the couple jump.

“Ignore it.” Jack mumbled.

“It has to be important. I told her not to call me before noon.” Miriam said, rolling over to get her phone from the nightstand. “Bueno.”

“Dude your shit got leaked!” Mede yelled.

“What?” Miriam sat up.

“Some gringa on tiktok posted this whole thing from Jack’s party and added a bunch of videos of you and Jack.” she explained. “I’ll send you the tiktok. Please hold.”

“Okay, thanks for calling me.”

“You’re welcome, and your mom said to call her so y’all can work it out.”

“Bye.” she hung up and groaned.

“What happened?” Jack asked her.

“People know now.” she sighed.

“About?”

“Us.”

“Shit.”

Seconds later Miriam got a text notification from Mede. It was a screen recording because apparently the tiktok got deleted just as she was looking for it, but Claudia had screen recorded it.

“Mede sent me the tiktok.”

Jack sat back and pulled Miriam to his chest. She pressed play.

"I don't want to share this, but I feel like it's my duty. As a woman I have high morals and have to expose the truth." The influencer took a dramatic kong pause then took a deep breath. "Maria Dominguez is cheating on her boyfriend with Jack Harlow."

Miriam paused the tiktok and looked at Jack. A few seconds passed and they burst into a fit of laughter. Once they collected themselves, they continued watching the video. The gringa that posted the tiktok was Jack’s old hook up that was there when Miriam visited Jack when he was touring in the fall. She went on saying that ‘Maria’ was a terrible person for coercing and manipulating Jack into being her side piece. The last minute was just a bunch of clips stitched together of Jack and Miriam kissing and being couple-esque.

“Now what?” Miriam asked Jack.

“Let me call Chris.” He got out of bed and hit up his manager.

Miriam took it upon herself and checked twitter. It was a shit show. Some people genuinely believed the tiktoker while some used their logic and pointed out that Miriam never said who she was dating. And based on the pictures she’s posted and how her and Jack were always together it would make sense that they were dating. Both talked about being private and not wanting their business out there for everyone to comment on. Lastly there were a few who theorized that it was all PR because they have projects to promote.

A few minutes later he came back and plopped next to her.

“What did Chris say?” Miriam asked.

“He said we can either ignore it and hope it passes, or to make some sort of statement that confirms it. I say we go with the latter because I don’t like that people are taking shit about you.” Jack frowned.

“I’ve been called worse.” she shrugged.

“Miriam,”

“I’m just saying.”

“How about I order us some breakfast and we sort this shit out after we eat.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Miriam nodded. She kissed him. “I’m gonna shower.”

Jack nodded. He made their bed and went downstairs to the kitchen. He ordered their breakfast from his favorite deli shop. To pass some time he went on twitter. He was annoyed with all the comments people had made about Miriam. But he did laugh at some of the memes people posted reacting to them being in a relationship.

PopCrave had reposted the now deleted video and Jack decided to retweet it and added 'If you're gonna make up some bullshit lies about me and my girl at least get her name right. You sound racist calling her Maria.' He checked Instagram and saw that Miriam had posted a bowling recap from last night. The first slide was of her sitting on her heels with her ass out like she was twerking. The second slide was of her doing the dougie when she got a strike. The third slide was her and Jack's names on the bowling score keeper. The fourth slide was one of the pictures Jack took of Aleena squeezing Miriam’s breasts, and the last slide was a picture of Jack's hand on her ass from the video he took of her grinding on him. Her caption was 'changing my name to Maria.' Jack snorted when he read it and commented 'I like saying Miriam when I cum in you tho.'

“JACK!”

Seconds later he heard Miriam open the bedroom door and trud down the stairs.

She pulled off the towel of her head and tossed it at him. "Delete that comment."

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