#just had this thought trying to go to sleep and needed to say it before i forgot it

[thebearer]

making the bed |carmen berzatto x reader| part one

prompt: carmen's stressed. food critics, a newborn baby, balancing work life and married life and now dad life; he's bound to break, everyone knows it. but no one ever thought he'd lash out on you.

or, part one of the devastation fic. based off this ask from the other day. two more parts to come.

contains: mega angst. mega angst, with no resolution in this part. hurt, no comfort (in this chapter, will be later in part 3). mean!carmen, very mean. mom!reader x dad!carmen with newborn teddy. fighting, language, carmen says mean stuff he doesn't mean. past mentions of trauma, family trauma, mikey mentioned. very angsty and a little heavy, please read at your own discretion. word count- 3.5k+.

"Are you ok?"

Carmen now understood why that phrase used to send Donna into such a blind rage, lips pursing and jaw clenching more and more every time he heard it. First at work, then with you, it felt never ending.

It was beginning to feel like critic season with how many were coming in, snooty and demanding to be impressed. It couldn't have come at a worst time, right in the middle of busy season with the start of the holidays. Days at The Bear were filled with frantic panic, running around, making sure everything was perfect, accounted for, and Carmen always had the sinking feeling it wasn't- that he'd forgotten something, messed something up. 

It wasn't rare for him to work himself up like this, a normal that you always warned him about, but he'd always had a solitude. As long as he'd known you, he'd had a place to go, to unwind, to let himself rest and reset with you. And he still did, it was just shared now with a newborn.

Dorothea Michelle. Teddy, for short. The light of his life, yours too. Nearly two months old with a set of lungs that sounded much louder, much more developed than that. Nights were long, sleepless, spent trying to lull Teddy back to sleep, awake even if he wasn't up with her. Carmen couldn't allow himself the selfishness to relax, to rewind, to "take it easy" like everyone told him to. At work, he was the boss; at home, he was a dad.

"Fuck, fuck," Carmen's sleepy stare was broken by a lick of bubbling heat, the lamb's roux popping with the high heat, splashing all over Carmen's chef whites.

"Jeff, c'mon," Tina clicked, shaking her head, moving the pan to lower heat. "What're you doin'?"

Carmen grit his teeth, snatching a rag off the stainless steel counter tops, scrubbing the burgundy stain, huffing when it only spread the stain.

"What happened?" Sydney turned, looking from the burnt sauce to Carmen's stained chef shirt. "Oh,"

"Do we have a spare coat?" Carmen huffed, throwing the rag down with a firm smack against the counter.

"I don't think so, Carm." Sydney shook her head. "You took the last ones home with you two days ago. The wine-"

"-I know, Chef, I know." Carmen snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I-I can't fuckin' serve the critics lookin' like this. With shit all over me- fuck."

"Hey, easy, easy," Richie turned the corner, his hands held up. "What's goin' on?"

"Jeff got sauce over him. He doesn't have any clean clothes." Tina muttered, irritated that she had to fix his mess, more irritated that he wasn't taking care of himself. You have a baby, Jeff, you need to rest and take some time, she'd told him. Carmen only waved her off.

"Okay, okay, hey, that's no problem." Richie's voice raised, lifting over Carmen's. "You go home and change, get your spare, check on my beautiful goddaughter, and then come back with your A game. Yes?"

Carmen didn't even humor him with a snarky remark, yanking his coat off and stomping towards the office to grab his things. Richie and Tina looked at each other, shaking their head gently.

"Kids runnin' thin, T." Richie muttered with a sigh. "He's gonna break. It's gonna be bad."

"Yeah, he is. Gonna wear himself out before then." Tina shook her head. "Jeff needs a vacation." They both jumped at the slamming of the backdoor, Carmen's angry exit shaking the foundation.

"Needs to be fuckin' medicated. Fuckin' lunatic." Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes at Carmen's dramatics.

The drive home was filled with silence, Carmen's iron grip on the wheel, tearing through the traffic towards the house- his house, his home. 

Home, but it didn't provide the same comfort that it usually did. Carmen's shoulders still stayed tense, buzzing with rage, not dissipating when he thought of you, or of Teddy, knowing you'd both be there, excited to see him. 

You jumped at the sound of the car door slamming, peeking out the window to see Carmen's parked next to yours, furiously stomping up the front steps. You frowned, grabbing the baby monitor, walking towards the front door.

Carmen nearly hit you with how fiercely he flung the door open. "Woah," You reached for the door, stopping it before he could flick it shut. "Carm, don't slam it. Teddy's asleep. I just got her down." You frowned at him, shutting it slowly.

Carmen looked at you but didn't speak, looking through you with a rage that had your spine tingling before he finally broke his gaze, stomping towards the laundry room. "Carm? What’re you doing home? Don’t you have dinner soon?" You hesitated slightly, lingering in the doorway with an uncertainty you hadn’t felt with Carmen before. 

Carmen didn’t answer, his jaw still ground tight while he rummaged through the clean clothes, carelessly unfolding and shifting the folded clothes.

"Carmen," You said more firmly, caching his gaze. He didn't speak still, just stared at you- through you. "Are you ok?" You lifted a brow, features softening in worry.

Carmen paused, eyes closing, shoulders tensing in agitation. Are you ok? His ears rang, a familiar rage that he hadn't felt in years bubbling up deep in his chest. Frustrated and blinding and rampant, heat rushing through his veins, pulling himself further and further from reality into someplace different- someplace darker in his mind. 

"What's wrong?" You pressed, he could barely hear it, ears ringing at your question. "Did something happen? Did the critic come-"

"-Where's my chef whites?" Carmen barked, cutting you off, his chest tightening more and more with every heavy heave of his chest. You flinched at his tone.

"Uh, I-I haven't seen the whites. I washed your white tee-"

“-You what? Y-You what?” Carmen spat, eye widening with a wild, raged glint in his eye. Your stomach flipped and fell with fear, stepping back instinctively. 

“I-I washed your tee, Carm, that’s all that you left in the laundry basket-” 

"-Are you fucking kidding me?" Carmen boomed, his head spinning, body buzzing with rage. Your breath hitched, frozen in fear at the anger in his tone, the roar of his voice bouncing off the walls, echoing through your ears in a painful drum. 

Carmen moved, snatching the dirty clothes basket, dumping it into the ground with a shake until the dirty chef coat fell on top. He gripped the basket, flinging it across the room with a hard throw. The final push to his bad mood that sent him right over the edge, crashing into a pit of blinding fury, aggravation, breaking him from the inside out.

"Fuck!" Carmen roared, his voice shaking the walls, your breath leaving your lungs in a trembling exhale of fear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is- This is- Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” 

You tensed in shock, gripping the baby monitor in fear, maybe surprise, as it started to buzz to life with Teddy's startled whimpers. Her small cries pulled you out of your frozen state, something deeper than fear replacing the ache in your stomach. 

"Carmen-" You gaped, voice wobbling with uncertainty, taking slow shuffled steps towards the stairs. “Carmen, calm-calm down. Ok? Calm down.” 

“Calm down? You want me to fuckin’ calm down?” Carmen sneered, an angry red flush blossoming in splotchy deep hues up his neck, towards his cheeks. “You don’t do shit, nothin’ that I fuckin’ ask for! Just sit around all fuckin’ day an-and I’m supposed to calm down?” 

“Carmen,” Your voice wobbled, throat tight with tears, hurt and fear strangling your words. “I-You didn’t ask me to wash them. I-I didn’t know. They weren’t in the hamper-” 

“-I shouldn’t have to ask you to wash them!” Carmen roared, eyes so wide you thought they might pop right out of his head, neck vein protruding on exemplifying his rage. “You know what I’m going through! You know how much fuckin’ stress I’m under! I go to that-that shit hole, an-and work my fuckin’ ass off so you don’t have to! Then I come home, and I-I can’t even get a second of peace!” 

“Stop,” You hiss, finally regaining your composure, his words fully sinking into you  now, feeling the full effect of them. “I-I just had a baby. I’m still on maternity leave taking care of a baby- our baby, and I’m tired too. But I’m not yelling at you-” 

“-Oh, right. Right.” Carmen laughs sarcastically, humorless as he runs his hand down his face. It felt mocking, left you feeling small and too vulnerable for your liking. “Because in between your napping an-and feeding, you couldn’t stick a fucking jacket in the wash, right? You’re so busy.”  

“What is wrong with you?” You snap, hoping he can’t hear the tears in your voice, the way your voice shakes with emotion. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Carmen scoffs, throwing his hands out. “I get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then I come home so I can go back and work my ass off some more, and-and you can’t do one simple fuckin’ thing? You can’t help me out? And then you wanna know what’s wrong with me? When you sit on your ass all fuckin’ day-” 

Teddy’s piercing wail pulls you out of your shocked trance, nose and throat burning with hurt filled tears you refuse to shed. Instead, you turn, climbing the stairs on shaky legs, the sound of Teddy’s cries growing louder and louder. Anchovy watches you from the top of the stairs, sensing the tension, your upset, sliding against your leg as if to comfort you. 

Carmen scoffs, hands buzzing and trembling with rage, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder with each of your footsteps on the stairs and down the hall. He can barely hear Teddy’s sobs, hands threading through his hair, pulling at his scalp. He sees you walk towards the bedroom, quickly, hugging Teddy to your chest. 

“Oh, don’t go fuckin’ do it now!” Carmen roared, your ignoring him only infuriating him further. “It won’t be ready in time now. I’ll just look like a fuckin’ idiot for the critic tonight! Not that you care! Why would you, huh? I-I mean just our livelihood, just our fuckin’ income!” 

You swallowed back your tears, head tilting towards the ceiling, hands shaking with every shove of your things into the overnight bag. Just enough to get you through the night, the next day. A few essentials, Teddy’s spare onesies, a charger, your wallet- you stopped mid-shove of your items into the weekender bag, the sun’s rays catching in your wedding ring. Your heart fell, more and more, you weren’t sure how that was even possible. 

Carmen’s furious voice was still booming from downstairs, ringing and shaking in his furious fit. Richie and Sugar both warned you about Carmen’s tantrums, brought them up to embarrass him, tease him about it until he was red faced and hissing hushed threats at them. You never, never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be on the receiving end of one. 

You jumped, another slam of something Carmen had thrown, maybe hit in a fit of rage, causing Teddy to wail louder, Anchovy skittering nervously away. Tears leaked out of your eyes, twisting the ring off your finger, setting it on Carmen’s bedside table. Pulling the carrier out of the closet, Anchovy got in much easier than usual, which you were thankful for. 

Carmen was gripping the marble of the countertop when he heard you again, walking from the bottom of the stairs, quick steps towards the door to the garage, Teddy’s voice nearly hoarse from her crying. You kept your head high, tunnel-visioned towards your car, ignoring his heavy breathing and frantic pacing. 

“Wha-What are you doin’?” Carmen’s voice was softer now, still with a jagged edge that was cutting and harsh. The car door opened, the baby carrier hooked into the car seat. 

“Hey, wha- what are you- where’re you goin’? What’re you doin’?” Carmen’s heart dropped in a damning rush of hour, stumbling on heavy legs towards the garage. You ignored him, shushing Teddy gently, running a calming hand over her wet cheek, trying to coax her paci into her mouth. 

“Baby, no-no, no. Hey, no, I-I- What-” Carmen’s chest felt tight, mind numbing and racing, stuttering nervously. You reached for your bag, his hand reaching to grab the strap. “Whe-Where’re you-”

“-Don’t touch me.” You hissed, teeth bared, eyes shining with tears. Carmen flinched, pulling his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.” You sneered, pinning him with a watery glare that had his stomach turning in sickening fear. 

“Baby, hey, w-wait-C’mon, d-don’t-You don’t, you don’t need to do this, ok? I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Carmen choked out the words, frantic and unsure, his hands shaking when they ghosted over you back just for a moment. Wanting to touch you, to hold you, to grab you and keep you from leaving, but too scared to. Instead, he grabbed the car door you flung open, holding it when you tried to yank it closed. 

“Let go.” You hissed, sniffling back wet, snotty tears of fury and hurt. 

“Please, don’t-do-don’t do this. Please, baby, I-I’m sorry.” Carmen begged, blue eyes deepening with the burning red hues of tears, bloodshot and lashes wet. “Don’t-Don’t do this-” 

“-I didn’t do this.” You sneered, leaving Carmen flinching at your words. “Don’t you dare try to say this was me. After how you just talked to me? The shit you said to me in there? You think I’m going to stay?” Your voice cracked with emotion, lips pressing together to keep a cry in. 

“No, no, no, no, no, baby, please. Please, ju-just come inside. Come inside, please? Please, don’t-” 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. To say that kinda stuff to me. That hurt, Carmen. That was mean.” You glared at him, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. “I don’t care if you’re stressed. I don’t care what’s going on- nothing, and I mean nothing, warrants you talking to me like that. Just because you fucked up, because you forgot to ask me to do it, because you’re stressed out- I don’t care what it is. You don’t talk to me like that, say those things when I’ve been home all day taking care of my ch- our child.” You nod back towards the sniffling baby, whimpering and crying half heartedly, her little eyelids drooping with sleep that was interrupted. 

Carmen felt sick, his knees tightening in fear, he was sure they might give out, that he might fall to the ground right there. Looking at the tiny baby, lip jutted and shaking in the mirror hooked on the back of the seat, then back at you, eyes red-rimmed and glaring at him with a hurt filled anger. 

“Don’t-” Carmen’s chest shook, a white-knuckled grip on the door. 

Your own hand curled around the door’s inner handle, yanking it away from him. “Move,” You hissed, pulling again. 

Carmen wasn’t sure why he let it go, why he let you shut it, locking the door in case he tried to open it again. Why he let you pull out of the driveway, why he didn’t stop you, why he didn’t run after you, only taking soft shuffles down the drive like a zombie as you drove away. Standing in the drive, Carmen swallowed down the spit that pooled in his mouth, stomach churning, sure he was going to be sick. 

He managed to trudge back to the garage, mind racing and far away, the ringing in his ears dulling but still deafening. It felt like he was in a dream- a nightmare, a hallucinating trance that felt like a sick, sick dream- Carmen was hoping it was. That he’d wake up and find you next to him asleep. That he could hug you, pull you into him, nose buried in your neck, still warm from your slumber. 

As the sun began to sink low into the sky, minutes turning into hours that Carmen sat motionless in the garage, staring in a trancelike state, he realized that this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. No this was his reality, a horrific reality that he’d made into his own. Carmen sat, eyes trained on the concrete of the garage, voice racing and blending in his mind- his words, yours, Teddy’s cries, Natalie and Richie’s, flashbacks of his mother screaming fits. 

He didn’t move, frozen in chilling, eerie fear. What ifs and terrifying possible scenarios, consequences to his own actions that left him feeling sick, hands trembling. A spiraling of fears that only drug him deeper and deeper with every haunting replay of his outburst. Even the flashing of headlights turning into the driveway, filling the garage with light, didn’t pull him from his trance. 

“The fuck is he- Cousin!” Richie roared, laying on the horn. Carmen didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge that he heard it, only stared. Richie frowned, turning the car off, throwing the door open. 

“Cousin? Carm? What-What are you doin’? Dinner service started an hour ago. Syd is freakin’ the fuck out.” Richie threw his hands up, walking towards the man who still didn’t move. Richie’s heart skipped, flashbacks of Mikey flooding into his vision, parallels of the two brothers blurring before him. 

“Yo, Carm, you-you good?” Richie stepped into the garage, his spine tingling with icy fear. It was quiet, an eerie, unsettling quiet. “Cousin, hey, what-what’s wrong?” 

Carmen's chest rose and fell, tighter and tighter. He was suffocating, head spinning and mind racing so fast he felt light headed. He could barely hear Richie’s voice over the noise in his head, Richie’s hand shaking his shoulder finally breaking his trance enough to meet his eyes, rounded in fear filled question. 

“Carmen, what’s wrong? Is it- Don’t fuckin’ tell me it’s the baby. What the fuck is goin’ on-” 

“-She left.” Carmen’s voice shook, raspy and scared. His tongue still felt too thick, head still spinning. He wasn’t even sure he said it, Richie’s widening eyes the only thing confirming that he had said it. 

“What? Who-Who left? Who?” Richie looked around, like the clues might be there, sure that Carmen wasn’t talking about you. No, he wouldn’t- he couldn’t. Not you. 

Carmen’s breath hitched, a strangling of a sob caught in his throat, running his hand over his face. Richie didn’t miss the way it trembled, shaking even as it rested over his eyes. Your car was gone, the house too quiet, no baby Teddy crying, nothing but silence was left. 

Richie’s heartbeat crawled into a rapid, scared pace. “Why? Wh-Why would she-” Richie looked at Carmen, eyes wide but still, reading his expression. “No. No, Cousin, no. What-What did you do? Carmen,” Richie grabbed both his shoulders, shaking him lightly until he met his gaze. “What did you do?” 

Carmen’s face began to crack, behind his eyes, Richie could see flashbacks of something- something he didn’t know what, but whatever it was, it was painful. That was evident by the fear that glossed over Carmen’s eyes, realization and horror. Carmen’s shoulders shook, frame rocking with a sob he tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Deep cries, guttural sobs breaking out of his frame, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, fingers curled and clenched around his greasy curls in agony. 

The damning realization flooded over him, that you’d left. 

You’d left, you’d taken Teddy, taken Anchovy- you’d left because he’d driven you away. His angry outburst, petulant, mean, hurtful- he’d been so cruel to you. You. His wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, the one person who loved him endlessly without stipulations or boundaries, the one person who truly understood him. 

And he’d driven you away. 

He wished he could blame his mom, his dad, his family for fucking him up so severely, maybe Mikey, even, for leaving him the shit show that was the restaurant, making his anxieties worse and fuse shorter. But sitting in the empty garage, Richie standing above him in silent shock, his sobs and angry sniffles echoing off the cement floor, Carmen knew he had no one to blame but himself. 

He’d fucked up. Really fucked up. Fucked up in a way that made all the other times look obsolete. 

Carmen had fucked up, and for once, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t avoid it, ignore it, deflect it like other times. Half hearted apologies and promises of change wouldn’t work, you weren’t here for him to even try to give them to you, and he didn’t know where you went. 

Carmen wasn’t sure where you went, how to fix this, why he’d done what he did, and a million other things that raced through his mind. What he did know, sitting in the too quiet garage, chest stuttering with heaving cries, was that he’d do anything. 

Anything, to get you back home. To make it right. To fix this and make it up to you. 

He wasn’t sure how, but he’d give up everything. Anything. His restaurant, his dreams, his hopes, his life, at this point, to make it up to you. 

[themultifanshipper]

howdy my friend how are you. quick question. elaborate on the whole "sometimes lando likes being the one getting railed" because aw fuck i can't get the thought of him just. completely fucked out. ruined. curls everywhere. face flushed. legs trembling bc it feels so good. tears down his cheeks and he's saying "too much too much" but when you try to pull away he just grabs you back bc he can't have another ruined orgasm. poor boy is a mess but edging him is just so fun :((((

Sort of a follow-up to this and that lando blurb.

When Lando's in a subby mood there's no getting around it. He will spend all his time trying to rile you up to get you to fuck him.

Warnings: gn!reader , sub!lando, overstimulation, dacryphilia? multiple orgasms, bit of subspace, aftercare

He'll quietly crawl onto your lap while you're working, not unlike a cat, looking for attention.

But once he has what he wants, which is you pounding into him from behind, he won't shut up for a single second.

His whines are loud as fuck, and when you find his prostate they quickly turn into shrill cries of despair. He is very sensitive, even to the light touches along his back or his arse. He always comes at least once on your fingers while you open him up, before you've even got a chance to slide into him.

You tried to edge him a few times, but even without much stimulation he would just come all over himself anyway, so you quickly took to overstimulating him instead.

He'll buck and whine as you fuck him hard immediately, but he got himself into this situation by being a needy little bitch so you carry on at the pace you want, sometimes teasing him by going so slowly that he falls apart without you doing much of anything.

Your hands are always firmly planted in his hair, pulling, making him arch his back as tears run down his cheeks but he just keeps begging and taking it like a champ, letting you bend his body any which way you choose. Usually these moods come when he's had a bad weekend or if he's a bit stressed and needs to let go. And that's exactly what he does, as he lets you bend him over every surface, giving him everything you've got and more as he begs like a slut for it.

Once he actually starts sobbing you start to pull out but his hands quickly fly to anything he can hold on to, to stop you from leaving him. Grabbing harshly onto your hips to keep you inside, not knowing his own strength as you're forced (but willing) to comply to his every demand. Not that he needs to demand, or even ask politely, this state just comes naturally to him, and you’re more than happy to please him.

“Please” and “Uggghhh” are the only things he's capable of saying because the pleasure is just so intense, too much but too little at the same time and it will ruin him if you stop. His eyes will roll back into his skull as it overwhelms his entire body, from your hands in his hair, down to his toes, as his body thrums with electricity, like a live wire that you're tapping into.

After a few orgasms he'll just go limp and pliant, still begging, like his body was just made to take it as it opens up for you, to take and use for your own pleasure.

Those are the times where Lando needs a bit of help coming back to the present with soft touches and kisses all over his body. Having him so vulnerable is an absolute privilege, and you take care of him for hours after, making sure he drinks, has a snack and a nice bubble bath before he's allowed to go to sleep.

On the verys rare occasions where he's not bent over, he'll ride you just to show you how good he is for you as he sets his own pace, hips stuttering at the unusual angle. Being a professional athlete means that he will always try to push himself by going for hours, his boundaries often ignored in favour of his pleasure so you need to observe carefully for when he starts cramping up or slowing down out of exhaustion. That's when you'll turn him over and pound into him from above as he pants into your mouth, clinging onto you and babbling nonsense like “I love you” and “So good to me” as you stroke him slowly to completion one last time before pulling out and going to get the water and snacks.

You two are unhinged for each other, but whoever’s turn it is to be a whore for the night, you both know you'll be cared for in the best way.

Didn't think I would feel inspired, opened a document and wrote this in 10 minutes, enjoy!

Lando being loud af is canon lore actually

[aakeysmash]

hii, first time writing a prompt :)

maybe a drunk reader and sukuna has to take care of her and take her home, she forgot her jacket and he lends her his sweater. maybe established relationship?

(i love your sukuna fics hehehe)

i made this a bit angsty lol

"you look like a spider."

sukuna rolls his eyes, then turns around and keeps on dragging you by your hand, just like he has been doing for the past 10 minutes. "what the fuck are you saying now?"

you trip on your own two feet, again, and you have to stop, again. you see him closing his eyes and taking one big inhale. he's really close from breaking your neck. you wobbly get in front of him, squint and poke his chest with your freshly done nail. "you- *hic* have eight eyes. ouch!"

you frown, massaging your forehead. he just flicked you.

"spiders have eight legs, not eight eyes. and i do not have eight fucking eyes," he tells you, annoyed.

"okay but still," you pout. you look at him and- damn, he's really fucking pretty. even if he's blurry he looks like a king: he's only wearing a sweater, but he's the hottest man you've ever seen. you try getting on your tippy toes to kiss him on the cheek, but you almost fall face-flat on the concrete you're walking on.

"you stink, don't get close to me," he says, serious, dodging your attempt to grab his forearm. then he turns around and leaves you there, standing. you open your mouth to say something, but no words come out, so you just stare at his retreating back. you know you're annoying him badly. it's not like receiving a messy text saying your girlfriend is drunk and that she needs a ride could be pleasurable for anyone, especially if you told her to be careful while she was out with her friends and if the text was sent in the middle of the night. and especially if you fought before she got out.

you're a little bit lost in your thoughts, and walking has become really hard, and when you look up you don't see sukuna anywhere. you feel like crying. you hate when he gets angry, especially because you never know how to say sorry properly. you didn't think he'd leave you in the middle of the street, though.

you sit down on the sidewalk and decide to take off your heels. they're hurting your feet and they make you seem like a drug addict for the people that see you walk. not like you could care less without sukuna making fun of you for it. you went a little overboard, sure, but you don't leave a girl alone at night.

you start crying. you don't even remember why you fought in the first place; maybe something that had to do with mowing the lawn this saturday? or was it about last night's tv series? anyway, you start missing him badly, you just want to go to sleep and stop your head from hurting. plus, it's so cold tonight. why does he have to be this difficult?

"the fuck are you doing?" a voice comes from behind you. you jump a little and try turning around, but you're suddenly brought up by two massive arms, finding yourself face to face with your boyfriend. he's looking at you weirdly. it's so cold.

"oh. hi," you say, sniffling and trying to wipe your tears, only creating a bigger mess on your face from your mascara streaks. your feet are touching the bare concrete and you feel like a mess. you fidget while avoiding the eye contact he's trying to make.

"why are you- nevermind," he answers himself, exhaling hard. you close your eyes and try not to let more tears out, feeling like he's going to tell you you need a break of some sort, when a weird warmth engulfs you. you look at your shoulders, now covered by the jacket he always has in his car "just in case he gets cold". but you know he never gets cold, he always runs warm. he keeps that jacket in his car for you.

he gets one of his hands on your cheeks, angling your face towards him, then tries cleaning up your snot and make-up with a tissue. you look up at him, big eyes observing his every move. you're warmer now. his hand touching you is warm too, and he makes little circles on your skin. you know it's his way of saying he's sorry.

"you're so messy," he mumbles, his face extremely close to yours, kissing your nose lightly. you burst into tears again.

"yo what-"

"i- i thought you lef-left me here," you sob, leaning your head on his chest. he's paralyzed for a moment, then gets one hand on your small back and caresses your head with the other.

"baby, you were freezing, i just went to the car to get your- my jacket."

"i know but you were so-so annoyed *hic* i thought-"

"then stop thinking," he interrupts you. you still, then lightly nod, brushing your face on his shirt.

"not too much, pretty girl, this shirt is white," he chuckles in your ear, still massaging your scalp. you hum.

"let's get you home, m'kay? i'll run you a really nice bath. i'mma make sure you take aaaall your medicines and get you to bed, mh?" he mocks you, almost like he's talking to a child.

you softly punch his chest, then mumble, "the bath sounded nice."

you're swept off your feet, then he squats to get the heels you left on the sidewalk.

"then i'll run you one for real. everything for you."

you're already dead asleep when you get to his car, and he makes sure to kiss your forehead before closing the passenger door, a little smirk on his lips.

[weirdmorefics]

Could you pls do a fake dating fic with Colin bridgerton? Tysm xx

A Life Long Scheme

A/N- Sorry for the delay! I really do have the fanfiction writer curse! I say that every time but I mean it! I got my appendix out and rode in an ambulance. They don't even play music in them FYI.

Readers Pronouns- She/Her

Word Count- 2,512

Summary- You convince Colin to fake court you to gain the attention of other suitors but jealousy consumes Colin.

I knew I would have a hard time finding a suitor from a young age. My family may be wealthy enough to attend balls but certainly not enough for a sizable dowry for each of their children. I grew up competitive trying to prove myself worthy even if I came with a small dowry. My siblings relied on their looks but I was determined to be the best at everything. I will treat coming out like I do life competitively. As the eldest, I must set an example.

I was lined up with the others coming out into society this year. They all nervously played with their clothes and looked to the floor. I too felt like doing that but I kept my emotions bottled tightly in my chest and held my head high. We all took our turns bowing in front of the Queen she looked completely unbothered by us, dare I say bored.

I was last in line she looked me up and down and said, "I am unsure if anyone qualifies as a diamond this season."

I can't fight back the sharp inhale I take, I can physically feel my heart launch its way into my throat. I feel as if I may hurl as she gets up and walks away escorted by her guards. I look around at others visible shock. I can't help but feel the Queen just left because of me. I mean I was the last one. I need to do something! I can't fail already I just came out into society!

My night was filled with pacing and plotting. There has to be a way to impress Her Majesty. My Mama tried to comfort me but Father quickly told her there was no point in speaking to me when I was like this. I hate to admit but he is unfortunately correct. Once I am in a thought spiral there is no getting out. I thought of other seasons for most of the night as I lay in bed. What did they do to gain the Queen's attention? The most notable season of late would have to be Daphne's. I can't recall the last time The Ton has seen a marriage done with such haste before. She had a massive amount of suitors after her though that was only after The Duke's appearance.

The idea hit me suddenly I launched out of bed, put my carpet slippers on, and ran out of the house. I am lucky my family sleeps so soundly because I am sure I sounded like a horse trotting as I ran through the house. The Bridgerton manor is right next to ours, so close in fact that I grew up playing games with all the Bridgertons. Colin has always been my dearest friend (even though Mama always told me a male friend was improper). I knew Colin would go along with my plan, we have been scheming and pranking since we were children. This should be no different! It unfortunately hit me how late it was when I stood in the darkness of the Bridgerton Garden. I was here now I refused to backtrack just because it was an untimely hour.

I used the bushes to help guide me to Colin's familiar window. Once there I gathered tiny pebbles and started ricocheting them off his window. It did not take him long to wake and open the window with a messy bedhead and a lit lantern. His face instantly flushes at the sight of me.

"My god Y/n what are you doing out here in this state!" He shouts

I follow his gaze to my clothes and feel my face heat. My god, I did not think this through as I stood in front of Colin Bridgerton's window in the dark, in my silk nightgown. I will see this through the damage is done. "I have a plan," I smile.

He sighs and rubs his forehead, "Oh no… you are lucky my sleeping schedule is still askew from traveling abroad. Now get inside before someone sees you!"

I met him in the drawing room and he refused to look me in the eye, "So what is so important that you have decided to grace the house with your presence at this ungodly hour."

"I am here to present you with a proposition," I clasp my hands as he finally looks at my face suspiciously.

"And what might this proposition be? I can assume nothing good," he questions.

I roll my eyes and pace as I recite my plan."As you know Daphne was utterly suitorless during her season courtesy of Anthony. However, the moment a Duke entered the picture she had men competing for hand. They could not care less about Anthony's interventions."

Colin nodded confused, "Your point?"

"My point is I need competition! So I propose that you pretend to court me! If you will? I know you are aware of my Papa's financial situation… I mean the whole ton is after Lady Whistledown published his unfortunate business decisions and his one-too-many daughters for a dowry. None of this will matter if I can get a suitor who loves me and will help my family but that can't be done if I can't attract a suitor!" I continue to pace as Colin looks entirely unsure of what to make of this situation. I take a deep breath, "So what do you say?"

Colin looks at me with puppy dog eyes, "Of course Y/n. You are my dearest friend. I must know why you decided to discuss this so late at night in your…" he flushes again and looks to the ground. "In your nightgown."

I suddenly became all too aware of my attire and became a stuttering mess, "the conversation was of utmost importance the time of day and clothing choices have nothing to do with it!"

Colin smirks, "I see."

"I must save my Papa's business if not for him but for the chance my sisters will get to marry for true love and not for financial gain," I sigh. Colin's eyes which were once teasing turn to sadness, "Do not look at me like that Colin. I don't need your pity, I need your help."

He nods and straightens his posture, "Of course Y/n. Of course, I will help."

I quietly snuck back into the house after speaking to Colin. The plan was set in stone he would be the first dance on my dance card and we would round up potential suitors together. We were joined at the hip for every event and I purposely chose the busiest times to promenade so the most amount of suitors would see us.

I soon began to gain the attention of many suitors and even had many coming to my house to call on me! Mama was so proud I was so happy to take her mind off the situation with Papa.

Mama pulled me to the side of the drawing room, "Maybe hanging out with the Bridgerton boy will help you! Maybe their fortune will rub off on us!" I was proud to inform her I was to promenade in the park today with Colin. It was odd to see her smile with excitement instead of pale at the thought of her daughter spending her time with a man who never planned to court her. I wish she wasn't only proud of me when I wasn't doing something that benefited me in finding a wealthy suitor. It's no matter though, I will do anything to make her proud, and it feels like I'm finally doing it. She spent the whole morning with me to find a suitable dress for my outing.

Colin arrived promptly at the time we set previously and accompanied me to the park. As we promenaded I felt many eyes on us they truly believed Colin would court the daughter of a family barely escaping financial ruin. It is truly almost humorous how easily we have swayed the ton.

"It is truly working Colin! Mother is so proud that I will be the one to save my family's reputation. Such a shame she picked such a layered gown for one of the warmest days of the season," I whisper and fiddle with the seams of my dress.

Colin sighs, "How many suitors are you getting from this Y/n? They can't all have honorable intentions given your beauty and your family's standing."

I roll my eyes, " Why Colin Bridgerton are you jealous? I would not think you are the type. Do not worry you will always be my dearest friend. No husband could replace you."

His face turns serious, "I am just worried. I hope you are doing this for the right reasons and not for the sake of your Mama… and I am most certainly not jealous."

For someone who said he is certainly not jealous he didn't sound quite certain. That, however, is not what distracted me. "You think I want to marry a man not for love but purely for financial gain? It is every woman's dream to marry for love! We can't all have the privilege to do so! Especially one born into a family with a gambling addict for a father and a mother too frail to defend herself. My mother has been preparing me for coming out since I was a child! This is my job as the eldest! To secure a good future for my siblings so perhaps they get the opportunity to marry for love as I will never get to!" I back up as if I may burn from Colin's shocking gaze but I still point a finger at him, "And the fact that you don't already know this Bridgerton is having me question if we ever truly were friends! Perhaps all those travel stories in your head leave not much room for anything else."

I storm away from the Bridgerton, I think after his initial shock he calls for me but my rage prevents me from looking back to see if it was true or a cruel trick of my ears. It was perhaps not the greatest idea to run off from a suitor with no chaperone. Maybe I wouldn't have found myself in such a precarious situation if I had chaperone. I find myself cursing my father in my head for his terrible gambling habits that prevent anyone from wanting to associate with the likes of us. Therefore getting me into this mess in the first place.

"Y/N L/N, we have been watching you for quite some time. Your father never described your intense beauty but how could one put it into words?" The seedy man approached me.

I smiled politely, "Thank you! May I inquire how you know my father?"

"Oh darling I think you know why we are here. I mean the whole ton knows about your father's habits shall we say." He smiles menaceingly and I think to myself of course this has to do with his damn gambling habits.

I back up in case I have to make a quick escape and he unfortunately catches on. He grabs my wrist to keep me in place, "We have been very patient with your father. Given his position in the ton, we thought we could be lenient with his payment schedule. However, it turns out we were mistaken. What is more shocking is the fact that his daughter thinks she has a chance of finding a suitor with no dowry."

"Sir please unhand me," I try to pull away from his grasp.

"You think being in the company of the Bridgertons will help your family situation? Perhaps we could take you as payment? You do draw a lot of attention despite your social ruin. We could use you to bring more men to the establishment," he smiles sinisterly.

I yank my hand away even harder out of fear but his strength still outmatches mine, "Why would I ever help you put more families in financial ruin!"

He laughs, "Darling you think you have a choice?"

His eyes narrow at something behind me and I hear Colin's voice, "I believe the lady asked you to unhand her."

"This does not involve you, sir," he growled.

"You see it is my business when you have your hands on my betrothed, Colin growls back.

My eyes furrowed in confusion. He had been fake courting me of course but we certainly did not discuss a fake betrothal.

The man laughs yet again, "I read in Lady Whistledown that you were courting her but the fact a Bridgerton would sink to the likes of the L/N family."

I took in a shallow breath and Colin growled in response. This situation was going quickly downhill.

"You will not besmirch the lady's name! Now I won't ask again unhand her!" Colin shouts.

"Whatever you say," he smirks and tosses me to the ground. Colin's grimace seems to only encourage the man more, "I'd honestly prefer to use her to replace her father's debt but if you want to drag your family name down with her so be it." He walks away with a peppy jaunt in his step and I glare at him from the ground.

Colin quickly helps me to my feet, "I would have dueled him right here and now if I was not in the presence of a lady."

I brush the dirt off my gown, "It's fine. I'm fine. I will handle it."

"No, you will not! you will not take a step towards that insipid man," he yells.

"Well, Colin you don't really have any choice in that matter! Do you? You are just fake courting me. Or fake betrothing me now? I don't know. I have lost track honestly!" I rant.

His face turns serious, "Y/n I care for you! I would forsake my whole family name for you! You think I do not burn with rage every time I see a new man attempt to call on you after I started court you! I noticed your beauty and your smarts before any of these men did! The fact that they only noticed you once another gentleman entered the picture is disgraceful! I will always notice you Y/n! I will never let your family go through this! I hope to be a love match for you and help your family."

Tears collect in my eyes. As the oldest sibling I've never been the one that was cared for but the one that does the caring. Colin's words made me feel full. I try to tease but it comes more out as a sob, "Mr. Bridgerton are you proposing to me."

He smiles, "I think it is about time I finally proposed to you after you always proposed your schemes to me. So what do you say Ms. L/N? Would you like to continue proposing schemes to me for the rest of our lives?"

I nod aggressively smiling. There was no stopping the happy tears now.

[avatar-anna]

It's Not a Competition (But It Is)

i just feel like this song is so reader coded in this series like she literally gets annoyed by how much she likes him and at first refuses to admit but of course she can't hide it forever...

Hockey Player! Harry x Figure Skater! Reader Masterlist

"What are you staring at?"

"Nothing. I'm not staring. Who's staring?"

You narrowed your eyes at Harry from across the couch. He was on one end, you on the other, as you studied for your respective midterms. You hadn't meant to stay after hooking up, but Harry offered his shower and an extra set of clothes and promised not to bother you if you wanted a quiet place to go over your notes, and despite the warning bells flaring in your head, you stayed.

As promised, there were no distractions. You were able to go over your psych notes in peace, the only sounds in Harry's apartment being the instrumental music he put on and the clicks of his keyboard as he worked on his laptop. It was comfortable, almost too comfortable, you thought. This wasn't the kind of relationship you anticipated when you and Harry hooked up for the first time. It was supposed to be strictly physical, transactional, a satisfaction of mutual needs.

But you felt it—Harry's stare as you reviewed key terms and quizzed yourself with your professor's review guide. There wasn't any heat behind the stare, it was more of a soft, warm glow. Affection. Harry stared at you with affection, and you weren't sure how to make the responding butterflies in your stomach stop fluttering so intensely.

"You're being a creep," you finally said, shifting in your spot on the couch as if you could physically shake off the weight of that stare.

Harry's brows raised above his blue light glasses, amused by your assessment. You'd never seen him wear them before, but they framed his stupidly beautiful face perfectly. You thought they softened his appearance, made him look less like the overconfident jock you knew too well.

"You really wanna know?" he asked, a playful grin on his face. "I don't think you wanna know."

"I asked, didn't I?"

Harry's grin widened before turning back to his laptop. "I just think you look pretty in my clothes. That's all."

His smirk was self-satisfied as if he knew what your reaction would be, which pissed you off even more. Before you knew it, you took a throw pillow and chucked it at his head.

"Ow! What the hell?"

"I look pretty in your clothes?"

"It's a compliment, princess," Harry said. "You would be the one to get pissy over something like that."

You sniffed. "Sorry I'm not at your feet like one of your adoring fans."

"Hey now, I never said I didn't like it. I like this thing we have going on. The banter. It keeps things interesting."

"Whatever."

"Would you rather I said you looked hot? Sexy?" Harry challenged, though his smirk told you he was playing around, laying a teasing trap to see if you'd take the bait. "Why can't I tell the girl I'm sleeping with she looks beautiful in my clothes? That's like every guy's wet dream."

You frowned and picked at your nails, trying to ignore the effect his words had on you. "You're sounding too romantic. Like you're my boyfriend or something."

Closing his laptop once more, Harry set it on the coffee table in front of him and turned toward you completely. He looked too soft, too cuddly, too kissable in his worn gray sweatshirt, his hair extra curly from the shower you shared together earlier. And when he shuffled across the couch toward you, the smell of his shampoo dizzied you, made it hard for you to focus on his words.

"You say that like it would be a bad thing," he said. His voice was light, but there was an undercurrent of weight to it. This was the conversation you and Harry avoided, danced around, hid from, at every turn. You could see it in his eyes sometimes that he wanted to have it, that he wanted more. But you...you just couldn't.

"We agreed—"

"Yeah, yeah. We agreed. Just sex," Harry grumbled as he pulled off his crew neck. "I can haul you over my knee and spank you all I want but I can't say you can't look cute in my clothes. Pathetic, Y/n, really."

You blushed, playfully swatting his hand away when he tried to push your—his—shirt up. "What are you doing? We already did that!"

"Well not-couples don't sit around studying together, so come on," Harry said, smiling as he play-fought you on the couch.

You giggled your way out of your clothes wrapping your arms and legs around him as he kissed along your jaw. "No, don't do that. This is strictly sex between us. Only girlfriends hold boyfriends like that."

"Don't make fun of me," you said, breathless from laughing.

"I'm not making fun, princess. Promise. We're just two people who love to fuck. And study together and train to—"

You cut Harry off with a kiss, fisting a hand in his hair tight enough to make him hum. The slide of his mouth against yours was familiar, practiced, as dizzying as the first time you kissed him. Since the very beginning, it had been easy with Harry. Too easy, too right. You thought it was just the tension between you and him finally snapping in half, that he'd finally pushed enough of your buttons and you just needed to get him out of your system. And then it happened again, and it felt just as good as the first time. Maybe even better. So it kept happening again. And again. Until you were staying over at his place and he had a drawer at yours and he laughed at your stupid jokes and you knew what he meant when he talked about hockey stats and his favorite place to eat off campus.

And now you were here.

You didn't know where "here" was, though. You knew where Harry thought it was, you knew what he wanted beneath all his teasing and joking. But you didn't know what you wanted. Or you did, and perhaps didn't know how to admit it.

"I should go," you whispered after, even though you knew you didn't have to. Harry's body was warm and sturdy beside yours, the hand drawing circles up and down your back and through your hair pleasant, calming. Your eyes were getting tired, blinking slower and slower as your head laid on his chest.

"Yeah," Harry replied, his chest expanding and falling as he sighed. "But I don't want you to."

You didn't either, though you didn't say it out loud. You just nestled deeper into Harry's chest and wrapped your arms around his waist.

And you stayed.

*.*

Harry woke to the sound of his phone buzzing noisily on by his bed. Too tired to make any sense of who was calling him at such a late hour or why, he didn't even bother sending it to voicemail, merely turning over in his bed and dozing back to sleep once the buzzing stopped.

And then it happened again.

That time, Harry did send the call to voicemail, believing it to be one of Harry's teammates trying to pull some kind of prank. By the third call, he was thoroughly annoyed.

"What?"

"Do you not like me anymore?"

Rubbing his eyes, Harry looked down at his phone, more specifically, the caller ID, for the first time. "Y/n? Is everything okay? Why are you calling so late?"

"It's Friday night why do you—hiccup!—why do you sound like you're asleep?"

"Because I was," Harry said, groaning before sitting up in his bed. Running a hand over his face, he asked, "Are you drunk?"

"No! Yes! Maybe a little tipsy. The nice bartender gave me a double shot for my drink," Y/n said, giggling to herself.

*.*

Harry woke up some more at her giggling, already reaching for the pair of jeans he'd ditched by his bed earlier. He'd gotten home after an away game earlier and didn't have it in him to go out, not to mention the pile of homework he left for the last minute. Y/n went out with her friends, insisting that she could go a Friday night without hooking up with him. Harry had laughed at the time, but selfishly wished she was with him now.

"How nice of him," Harry replied, trying not to let the idea of anyone flirting with Y/n bother him too much. "So, you're okay?"

"I—hiccup!—I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know, you're the one who called me out of the blue."

"Well, I," Y/n started, her voice drowned out by loud noise of whatever bar or party she was at. Then it all quieted as if she was suddenly alone. "I wasn't going to call you, but then I did."

Harry smirked. "Aw, did you miss me, princess?"

"No!" she snapped, perhaps a little too quickly. "No, but I just—I was ready to leave and no one else was and I know it was stupid of me because you're always tired after away games, but I thought—"

"I'm already on my way," Harry said, sliding off his bed as he picked up his jeans off the floor.

"Really? You don't have to. We're not—I mean you're not—"

"Send me your location, princess. I'll make sure you get home safe."

Y/n was quiet for a moment, presumably sending Harry her location while he shrugged into a t-shirt and grabbed his jacket. And an extra one for her, just in case.

"Maybe...Maybe I can stay at your place tonight?"

Harry's heart leaped in his chest, but he didn't let himself get his hopes up. Y/n was drunk, and he might've just wanted to hear the plea, the affection, in her voice. She didn't like him that way, or didn't want to admit that she did. He just needed to be patient.

"Course, princess," Harry finally said. "Sit tight, okay? I'll be there soon."

Skating always brought you clarity. Going through a familiar routine and landing tricks was what made sense. Moving through the music, letting the music move through you, helped you relax.

But today was different. Today you skated around the rink in circles, no choreography or music flowing through you. You skated in a daze, hoping you could leave your thoughts behind you with another lap, but they were as quick as you were as you glided across the ice.

"Y/n?"

Your most persistent thought of all.

You skated one last loop before coming to a stop at the rinks entrance. Harry stood on the other side, backpack on his shoulders and baseball cap covering most of his curls. It was a vision you were more than familiar with, you even knew the slightly concerned furrow of his brow.

"Everything okay? You weren't at the library."

"I—I just needed to skate," was all you managed to say, your breaths still coming out unevenly.

"Oh. Can I join you?" he asked, already shrugging out of his backpack.

"Just like that?" you asked him, blowing a stray strand of hair out of your face.

"Just like that."

Leaning across the barricade Harry kissed your forehead. There was a small smile on his face as he pulled away and gingerly pushed that same strand of hair away.

Because that was a thing you and Harry did now. You'd finally admitted to yourself what Harry had known all along, so now he was your boyfriend. It had taken a moment to wrap your head around it, though your dynamic with Harry didn't change all that much. Not at first, anyway. Until your first date at a bowling alley, then the second at a sushi place in town, then you began opening up about your home life, your family, sharing things with him that you never had before. Now you got extremely jealous when girls came up to him and tried to flirt, and Harry, who wasn't afraid to admit he'd always been jealous when he saw you flirt with other guys, wasn't afraid to scare those same guys off.

You and Harry were finally dating, and it was...good. more than good. It was—

"It was the date, wasn't it? Was it too much?" he asked later as skated beside you, having finally gotten his skates from his locker. Harry's skates were clunkier than yours, meant for speed and agility so he could race down pucks and out skate his opponents, while yours is slim and geared toward performing tricks. You watched them as they glided across the ice as you figured out what to say.

The date Harry referred to wasn't meant to be anything special, not any more special than the others were. But then Harry did what Harry did best and went above and beyond.

He somehow scored tickets to the ballet and surprised you with them and a candlelit dinner before the performance. It was perfect, all of it incredibly perfect. Harry in his suit and tie, different than his game-day suit, you in the fanciest dress you owned—pale yellow and off-the-shoulder, the bodice shaped like a bow.

It was a night filled with hand holding and kisses to your bare shoulder as you observed the performance. The seats Harry got were far from the stage, but you didn't care. You were enthralled by the dancers and the night your boyfriend planned for you, and Harry was just enthralled by you. You felt his stare all night, the same one he'd had since the first time you met, only now you knew what it meant.

Then at the end of the night, he walked you to your door, kissed you, and let you go inside. When you asked why he wasn't following, all he said was, "You have a competition tomorrow. I know you like to be alone so you can mentally prepare."

And that was that. He left, and you went inside and replayed the night in your head over and over and over again. You saw him the next morning at your competition, but you were too focused, all your feelings carefully compartmentalized so you could perform your absolute best. But the second you got off the ice, you thought of him, and only him, and all the ways he made you feel entirely too much and how you couldn't see yourself with anyone else.

It was too much, too many giant feelings to make sense of all at once. So you took some time to yourself the next couple days, and instead of meeting Harry at the library to study like you'd planned a week ago and headed for the skating rink instead.

"The date was perfect," you said now, your eyes trained on the ice beneath your skates. "It wasn't—It wasn't the date."

"So...you blew off studying with me because you...what? You just felt like it?" Harry asked, his voice carrying the slightest edge to it. Your boyfriend was incredibly patient despite your apparent aversion to dealing with your growing emotions. But he was still human, and honestly, you were a little annoyed with yourself too.

"No, I—"

"Then what's going on, Y/n? I know things haven't been easy, but if I'm coming on too strong and we need to slow down, then—"

"I don't want to slow down."

"Okay, then what—"

"I love you!" you said, coming to a stop in front of him. The words just tumbled out of your mouth, and now they wouldn't stop, like a dam had broken inside you. "I've come to the realization that I'm in love with you. A lot, and—and I'm overwhelmed by it and a little annoyed that you've managed to make me feel so much more than I ever planned to, so... that's why I didn't show up. I'm sorry, I just—I love you, I guess, and I didn't know how to tell you. But I also couldn't sit next to you and not say it either."

Harry said nothing for a couple seconds, looking down at his skates, then you, then back down again. Then he began to laugh.

You gaped at him. "Hey—You're laughing at me? I know it wasn't as romantic as you would've made it but, but I love you, you stupid fucking jerk!"

That only made him laugh more, which made you spin on your skates and glide away from him. He called after you, but you kept going, except he was a faster skater than you were and caught up to you before you wanted him to. Harry grabbed you by the waist and spun you around so faced him. He was smiling wide, his nose bright red from the chill of the rink.

"I'm laughing because you got to say it first," he said. "I'm laughing because I have been waiting for the right time to tell you, walking on eggshells for almost two years now, and you just—you beat me to it. That's all."

You blinked. Then laughed a little yourself. "So it was a competition? I won?"

"Yeah," Harry scoffed. "You won. Now stop stress skating and come with me to the library, you neurotic freak."

"Competitive ass."

"I love you," Harry said, using the smile he usually reserved for getting out of trouble or getting what he wanted. It was a smile you pretended you could resist, perhaps more for your sake than his, but now you didn't even try.

You rolled your eyes before kissing him, not confused or scared of the butterflies that erupted in your stomach as a result. " I love you too."

[archangeldyke-all]

Need reader being spitroasted by ran n sev pleasseeeee😵‍💫

HEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHE

oooooh also this is the fifth ran ask! what emoji should we pick for the masterlist key? any suggestions?

men and minors dni

you come home to a suspiciously quiet house.

usually, when you're the last one of the three of you to come home, you walk through the front door to sevika and ran wrestling, or arguing, or making out. but they're always making some kind of noise.

you would be worried if you weren't fucking exhausted. you've had a terrible week at work, and the only thing that's kept you going is the thought of sleeping in tomorrow morning with your lovers wrapped around you.

you kick your shoes off, drop your bag, and shuffle to the bedroom, ready to collapse on bed and sleep.

only, when you push into the bedroom, there're candles lit, and rose petals scattered.

your heart drops. did you forget an anniversary? a birthday? fuck-- this is the problem with dating two people, there's twice as many important dates to remeber--

"baby." a voice cuts through your worried sprialing. you blink up from the bed to the sight of ran in the en-suite's doorway. they're naked...

well, naked except for their strap. you blink down at the dildo hanging off your partner's legs, then back up at them, confused.

"what?" you ask.

sevika steps out of the bathroom, grinning. "babe, you're finally home!" she greets.

she's naked and wearing a strap too.

"am i... interrupting something?" you ask. ran and sevika both laugh, and you can't stop your eyes from flicking between both of your lovers. you're turned on, exhausted, and confused.

"baby. lay down." ran says, reaching out and leading you to sit on the bed. you blink up at them, not quite understanding what's happening as they kneel down and start stripping your socks off your feet for you.

sevika climbs into bed behind you, her hands kneading into your stiff shoulders as ran's start digging into the arches of your feet. you groan, sinking backwards into sevika's chest as you start to relax after a hard week.

"is it our anniversary?" you ask, still not understanding what the occasion is.

sevika chuckles and kisses your cheek. "no. we noticed how hard you've been workin' lately-- you've been tired, baby." she mumbles against your neck, before she starts sucking at the skin.

"we wanna take care of you." ran mumbles, their hands trailing up and down your calves, squeezing the tight muscles.

realization dawns on you, and tears threaten to spring up in your eyes. "fuck." you whimper. "you guys." your vocie shakes, and sevika snorts.

"told you she'd cry."

ran giggles, and kisses each of your knees.

you elbow sevika, then turn your face to kiss her cheek. "i'm the luckiest woman in the world." you sigh.

"corny." ran mumbles from where their hands are pulling open your pants. sevika flicks their head, then starts to unbutton your shirt.

you just relax back into her strong chest, letting your partners take care of you.

it isn't until you're naked, sevika kissing your neck as ran trails kisses up your legs-- that you become aware of the slight kink in their plan.

"y-you're both strapped up." you whimper as ran sucks a hickey into your thigh.

you guys have had a system for years at this point, to settle disputes in the bedroom when it's time for someone to strap up. rock paper scissors usually solves it, and it's ended up being a pretty fair way of distributing strap-on privileges.

and as hot as the thought is, and as much as the three of you have talked about it-- none of you are ready to try double penetration yet.

so you're confused.

ran's mischievous smile makes your cunt throb.

"well..." they trail off, looking up to sevika where her chin's hooked over your shoulder.

"i saw a porno the other day." sevika fills in. you giggle.

sevika only really watches porn when she's researching for the three of you. it's hilarious to witness-- sevika with a notebook and pen in her hands while filth plays on the screen. you and ran like to watch with her, your hands occupied with much more satisfying activities, to see how long she can last before she snaps and throws the notebook away to pay attention to the two of you.

she's had to start researching porn in private to avoid any distractions.

"what if sev fucked your cunt, while i fucked your mouth?" ran whispers from between your legs.

you almost cum from the words alone. ran giggles at the way your thighs clench around their face a bit, and sevika hums, nuzzling her nose against your throat, happy with your reaction.

your lovers rearrange you easily, propping you up on all fours with your ass facing the head of the bed, your head facing ran where they stand at the foot.

they don't make you work for it. they don't tease you, like they tend to. instead, ran just cups your face gently, and slides their cock past your lips.

your partners know you well. nothing turns your brain to mush like giving head especially when you're sucking on strap.

there's no stakes. ran can't really feel your mouth, no matter how much they think they can, so you can be as sloppy, uncoordinated, and dumb on their cock as you want. and the moans they let out get you fucking drunk.

behind you, sevika smacks your ass.

you choke on ran's cock, and they and sevika both giggle at your sputters. sevika apologizes for surprising you by running her fingers through your cunt.

"shit." she gasps. ran grunts.

"what?"

"she's fuckin' dripping already."

god-- this is the best/worst part of having two partners. when they talk about you like you aren't even there. it makes you all gooey on the inside, and now, with your mouth stuffed with cock, you can't even complain about them doing it.

"she's a cockslut, sev, whaddya expect?" ran asks, swiping their finger over your cheek tenderly as they blink down at you adoringly.

you whimper.

sevika sinks two fingers inside of you.

your brain starts to leak out of your ears, and your elbows wobble.

ran laughs, takes a step forward and helps you up to your knees as they wrap their arms around your waist, leaning in for a kiss.

sevika's kissing down your shoulders, her fingers hammering in and out of your squelching cunt.

"i'm--" you choke out.

"gonna cum baby?" ran asks against your lips. you nod, huffing for air as sevika's fingers assault your g-spot.

"s-sev--" you whimper. she chuckles behind you, one of her hands sneaking between you and ran's bodies to play with your tits.

"come on my fingers, then we'll turn you over n' put both our cocks in you."

you cum, the image sending you spiraling into one of the most intense orgasms you've ever had.

usually, ran and sevika give you a minute to catch your breath after you cum. tonight, they don't.

they help you down to the bed, still shaking and whimpering, turning you onto your back, your head hanging off the foot of the bed.

your thighs are clenching together so hard, both from your receding orgasm and the one that's growing at the prospect at what's about to happen to you. sevika notices, giggling and kissing both of your knees before she tears your legs apart.

you gasp. ran takes the oppertunity to sink their cock all the way down your throat.

fuck.

you can smell their arousal, your nose half an inch from their cunt, your throat stuffed with cock. all you can see is the wet curls of ran's bush.

and then sevika sinks inside of you.

you cum the second you get them both in you. and upon seeing this, they both snap.

"shit, baby, you're perfect." sevika whimpers. "perfect little cockslut-- cummin' the second you got us inside you-- you're adorable."

"just like that, honey, just feel good for us." ran mutters, their hands gripping your tits as they start to thrust in and out of your mouth. you'll have ten little bruises on your chest in the morning.

and ten on your hips-- if sevika's grip doesn't lessen as she pounds into you.

the sound of your choked moans and squelching cunt fill the room, along with the moans of your lovers and the occasional smack of the two of them kissing above you.

you've never been so turned on in your life-- you can't stop shaking, you're not sure if your orgasm is lasting a lifetime or if you're just having a bunch in a row.

spit is sliding down your face-- you're lightheaded from your head's upside down position. your thighs are soaked in your own cum, you don't know if you're squirting or just that fucking wet. neither would surprise out.

you've never felt so perfect in your life.

"shit, i'm gonna cum." ran grunts.

your hands fly up to clutch their ass, pulling them deeper down your throat. sevika chuckles. "such a fuckin' slut." she teases.

"my favorite slut." ran grunts.

"i take offense to that." sevika mutters.

ran laughs, loud and bright, and then they dissolve into moans, their hips stuttering as they cum down your throat.

they pull their cock out of your mouth with a disgusting wet pop, and you whimper at the loss. "come back."

sevika groans, and collapses forward, burying her face against your neck as she starts to cum inside you. "slut!" she laughs brightly between her whimpers. "i love you so f-fuckin much, baby, s-shit." she whines.

ran's grinning down at you, their cock resting on your cheek as they stroke your cheek. "how you feelin' baby?" they ask.

sevika bites your throat as she comes down from her orgasm, and you squeak. "i-ah!" both your lovers laugh. you roll your eyes, then try again. "'m so fuckin' good." you say, grinning.

"yeah?" ran asks. you nod up at them, dreamily. they giggle, and duck down to kiss you upside down. you hum against their lips. "good. 'cause we're just gettin' started."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352 @artinvain

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 13

warnings: SMUT! 18+!, dirty talk, handjob, mention of oral sex, mention of anal, mourning and grief.

Part 13

Patrick was frustrated. No, to be precise, it wasn't just frustration; it was anger bubbling inside him for two months. Maybe half a lifetime if he wanted to be dramatic, but he wasn’t a dramatic person. He was a practical person.

Now, with Liana above him, moving her small hand up and down his dick in gentle motions that made him moan occasionally, he was utterly frustrated. More than that, he wanted to fight with her. Just like that, while she was literally holding him by the balls.

This wasn't Liana. He knew it wasn’t Liana because he knew her. He knew she was someone who got embarrassed and blushed easily and bit her lips almost simultaneously with every action she took. Liana loved to bite her lips to avoid saying too much.

He knew Liana felt things absolutely. If she felt one thing, then she felt everything. She wouldn't miss any color in the shades of the rainbow. She would look directly at the sun until her eyes burned.

But now, she was doing everything to avoid looking at him. Giving him a handjob as if it were a task she needed to tick off her to-do list. As if it was perfectly okay that any moment now, he would cum on her hand, with her beautiful manicure and red polish, and she would fake a smile. Go to the bathroom to clean herself up, then put on a random movie until he fell asleep.

When he fell asleep, she would leave. That was their routine for two months since he pinched her ass and told her he was hers. Now, he was quite sure she was his out of obligation. That she didn’t want to be in his apartment at all. Maybe some animalistic side of him, the possessive and disgusting side he’d been trying to control for years, forced her to sit on top of him and move her hand in perfect motions on his dick.

"Liana, fuck." Greedy bastard. Any self-respecting man would tell her to stop. She’s not even looking at you. His brain screamed at him. You're pathetic. But she’s so beautiful. So clean. So sweet. She’s like a reward for hard work. A bonus point for Patrick for working so hard at practice today. A bonus point for Patrick for not grabbing her by the sides and shaking her until she told him what she needed from him. A bonus point for Patrick for not flipping her over his knee and spanking her ass until it was red, and she revealed what the problem was. He groaned at that thought. His dream girl giving him a handjob, and he was imagining making her beg for him to stop punishing her.

He knew that the second they had an actual conversation about this situation, she might walk out of his crappy apartment, which often had ants, as she predicted, and never come back. She had friends in London. She had her own room. She didn’t want to sleep with him even wh— “Fuck, Li.” Her movement interrupted his train of thought, and a guttural moan escaped him. He placed a rough hand on the side of her head, turning it so she would look at him while he came. “Please.” He begged.

A new low. Patrick Zweig begging for a girl to look at him while he came. Patrick Zweig who once was drunk and put his foot on a girl’s face while she went down on him (he apologized afterward, but she said it actually matched the vibe. He did it with that same girl again; he doesn’t remember her name). Patrick Zweig who once fingered a girl while she was on her period. Patrick Zweig who loved anal. Patrick Zweig who let a guy he met online fuck him a week before he moved to London. Patrick Zweig was begging for Liana Levi to look at him.

And she looked at him. After all, he asked so nicely. He felt her tense up for a moment, doing everything not to furrow her brows and show the panic that making eye contact with him caused her.

“Okay, that's enough.” He moved her away from him with a slight shove, seeing her surprised expression. “I'm going to the bathroom.” He mumbled and stood up. He had to cum but couldn’t take whatever this is anymore.

Liana couldn’t move from the moment Patrick went into the bathroom. She was pretty sure she was shaking. So embarrassing. So fucking embarrassing. Just put on a shirt and leave his house. He clearly doesn’t want you here. But she couldn’t get up from the bed to reach for her shirt, and her eyes filled with uncontrollable tears. How is this happening to her again?

Patrick came out of the bathroom, and the first thing he did, before even looking at her, was hand her a shirt from the closet. He was dressed, and the only fair thing was that she shouldn’t be sitting there in just her bra and underwear.

“Li, I need you to talk to me.” He sat down in front of her on the bed, seeing her tear-filled eyes and feeling guilty. Could it be that he pressured her? Could she be a virgin? they hadn’t even had sex yet. They’d only made out and fumbled with shy touches. Art made it seem as if they fucked. Did he lie?

“I’m sorry. Do you want me to leave?” Her voice was so quiet as she put on his green t-shirt. “No, I want you to stay.” He sighed, feeling defeated. How was he supposed to explain to her that if he could, he would put her in a glass bottle and take her with him everywhere? “I think I need to go.” She mumbled, wiping away the few tears that had escaped and standing up quickly as if she had gathered strength from the air.

Patrick’s frustration intensified. He felt he was too close to exploding, something he wasn’t ready to do in front of her. Explode. “Did I misinterpret everything? Did I imagine a sexual tension that doesn’t exist?” He asked in the calmest voice he could muster. “What? No!” Her eyes widened. “Then what the fuck is going on, Liana?” His voice rose, and he saw her flinch for a moment.

“I’m just…” She swallowed. “You’re what? Are you a virgin? Because I don’t care if you are. I’d be happy to—” He started a monologue he had rehearsed in his head numerous times over the past two months.

“No!” Liana almost screamed from the accusation he threw at her. She didn’t know how to explain to him what was going on in her head. She didn’t know how to show him how much she really wanted him without being desperate. Without repeating all the things she had done with Art. She didn’t want him to think she was cheap and slutty. She didn’t want him to disrespect her. She wanted to show him she could be restrained and rational and take care of what he needed without being greedy about what she wanted. She didn’t know what to do or how to be intimate with him without him judging her afterward. “So what’s the issue, Liana? Because I feel like you’re disgusted by touching me. By even thinking about touching me, and as much as I want you, and it’s a lot, I don’t want to force you to do things you don’t want to—” He mumbled uncontrollably. He didn’t know what was happening anymore.

“Hey,” she moved closer to him. “I want to.” She swallowed and tried to give him the sincerest look she could find. “Okay. Do you want to stay the night?” He asked with the last of his strength, once again sourly winning over his ego. “Yes, please.” She smiled and lay down on the bed as if nothing had happened a minute ago. “If you’ve developed a snoring problem, that’s a deal-breaker, Amanda.” Patrick decided to go with the flow. He wasn’t ready to lose her before she was truly his. He wasn’t Art.

Jessica Passed Away. Liana's father called to inform her that Jessica had passed away. She found herself crying for three hours straight. She knew this day would come; Jessica was an elderly and sick woman. But she hadn't thought she would be so far away. She hadn't imagined she wouldn't be able to attend the funeral or be there for the Donaldson family. Specifically, Liana never imagined that on the day she found out Art's grandmother had passed away, she wouldn't be by Art's side.

Even before everything that happened, her family was so intertwined with his that her heart ached at the thought of not being there with them.

Patrick was at a tournament in southern England and was supposed to return the day after tomorrow. She spent some of his tournament days at his apartment because it was more convenient for her to study there and he didn’t mind. His home was quieter than the dorms, and she didn't have distractions like Melissa's stories about her casual flings.

So she lay on Patrick's bed, listening to her phone dial. It wasn't even intentional. She was just sad and knew only one person who was probably as sad as she was. "Liana." Art's voice sounded small, broken, and unfamiliar, yet so familiar at the same time. It was as if no months had passed since the last time they spoke. As if she had heard his voice just an hour ago.

"Hey," she said, and for a moment, she felt foolish about her decision. After all, why was she calling him at all? He was no longer a part of her life. For Jessica. Of course. For Jessica.

"Hey." Art couldn't breathe. He felt the remaining air in his lungs emptying. This day weighed heavily on him. To be honest, this year weighed heavily on him. But today, he received the news about his grandmother, and he didn't know if Liana would call. But he hoped. He hoped she would give him this. Give him a moment of compassion that perhaps he didn't deserve but needed like a fish needs water. He didn't see himself getting through this day without hearing her voice, and he wasn't a believer, but he thanked God for this call. For a few minutes of grace.

"I'm so sorry, Art. I'll miss her terribly." She sounded as broken as he did. He found solace in their shared grief. He closed his eyes because he knew no one could see him, in the sanctuary of his room. A hiding place where, right now, only Liana and he existed. He hoped his tears weren't visible to her. Although he didn't think there was much he could hide from her anyway.

"She was the best of us," he said, meaning every word. "Yes, she was amazing," Liana agreed. Art wondered if the crack in her voice held the same months of separation that he knew his voice conveyed. He wondered if she carried a deep sadness she couldn't put into words, just like him. He wanted to ask her so many questions and tell her so many things. But in reality, there was nothing to say. The silence was deafening, filling him with a mortal fear that she would hang up and his source of oxygen would disappear along with her heavy breaths on the other end of the line.

"Tell me something good, Li," he finally said. He didn't know why he said it, but whenever he felt he had nothing to talk about with Liana, whenever she did everything to avoid speaking with him, he asked her for a story. Like a child eager to absorb the world through an adult's eyes, he thirsted for what she could reveal to him. As if every word she said was a secret shared just between them.

"Art..." she sighed. A sad sigh he didn't know how to handle. He didn't know how to continue this conversation. His logic screamed at him that she called out of politeness, out of respect for his grandmother. Because she loves his grandmother. Loved his grandmother. She called to express condolences like mature people do. Put aside the anger and share in the grief.

"Okay," he said. He hated how broken he sounded. "It's okay, Li. You don't have to. It was stupid to ask," he said, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. God knows he had done enough of that.

"The buildings here are so beautiful," she said suddenly. "Oh." He couldn't hide his surprise. "You don't understand, it's like the entire history of the continent is here in the architecture. Every building has character, Art. I've never seen anything like it," she sounded as if she had met a fairy. He closed his eyes and could imagine her wandering through Europe, absorbing the buildings, delighting in a culture foreign to her but so beautiful in her eyes.

"It sounds beautiful when you describe it," he mused aloud. He physically hit himself on the forehead. Why did he have to say that? In his eyes, everything Liana described took on beauty. That was the truth. He knew it. He thought she probably knew it too by now.

"There's a small restaurant under Patrick's apartment that serves fish and chips, and if we meet, you won't recognize me because that's all I eat," Liana said suddenly. She felt that the moment she couldn't find something to tell him, she would have to hang up. Her mind screamed at her to hang up. End the call. She had expressed her sorrow and heard that he was coping, it was time to end the conversation. But the thought of hanging up and not speaking to him again for months burned her inside. It was as if his voice gave her a hold on something old that had no chance. Something that began and ended at Christmas a little over a year ago.

"When you come back to America, we'll get you back on track. You'll eat lettuce and broccoli all day like you love," Art tried to joke, but it wasn't funny. Nothing about this conversation was funny.

"I don't know if I'm coming back," she said. She didn't know why she was telling him this. It was a conversation she and Patrick had been having for a while. Art wasn't supposed to be a part of this conversation. He was supposed to find out during a family dinner when her mother complained about it or when his mother mentioned casually that Liana wasn't coming back.

"Oh." Art didn't know what to say. He felt the urge to laugh and cry simultaneously, but he did everything to show he was just listening out of fear that she would hang up and that would be the end of their last conversation. Maybe that would be better than the last time they met when he had groveled, begging for forgiveness. It didn't help him much; she didn't forgive him. She probably never would.

"I'm not sure yet, it's not final," she panicked. "It's okay, Lia," he sighed. Lia. His grandmother called her Lia. His grandmother, who wholeheartedly believed that one day they would get married. She talked to him about it a lot. Before there was even a spark. Before Art saw Liana so clearly. Before he noticed the light she radiated. His grandmother knew he was already captivated. That he was already hers. She had hope that one day Liana would agree to be his.

"You don't have to know yet," he continued the sentence. "I'm exploring the option of finishing my degree here... It's just complicated, you know what my mother thinks about it..." she tried to talk normally. As if she were telling this to Melissa or Jeremy, friends she had met in London. As if it were a conversation they were having daily.

As if she wasn't talking to Art Donaldson. As if he wasn't a complete stranger. But one whose favorite food she knew, could tell when he was angry by the way he rubbed his neck, by the way he played with his fingers. Knew when he was happy. Knew he hated being pitied but was willing to grovel if something was truly important to him. As if he wasn't someone she knew the taste of his dick. As if she hadn't lain beneath him, so completely his that she was willing to give him all of her.

"Do you miss America?" he asked. And they both knew he was asking if she missed him. And her mind kept screaming at her to hang up and continue the life she had started building for herself without him burning back into her memory. "Sometimes," she answered and could guess he was nodding. That he was furrowing his brows and deepening the crease forming on his forehead because he was thinking too deeply about her answer.

"Are you at Patrick's apartment a lot?" Art asked another question, and his heart raced. Because he didn't want to know the answer. And he didn't want her to hang up, but on the other hand, if she hung up now, he wouldn't know. And he knew he was exaggerating. That he was pushing her to the edge. That she wouldn't want to tell him. "My boyfriend has his own apartment. I'm there every time I have a free moment," she answered. He knew. He knew that's what she would answer. He knew from the moment Patrick said he was flying to London with her. Art didn't stand a chance. He lost in a chess game simply because he forgot he was playing against a professional.

And he hated Patrick. He was almost certain of it. Except for the moments he missed Patrick. And he missed him like he missed a good summer vacation. He missed him like a first kiss. Like you miss staring at a full moon. Sometimes he missed Patrick more than he missed Liana. He thinks he missed playing tennis with Patrick. He couldn't understand why they hadn't played for so long. Even before he left for London. Even before everything that happened with Liana. So much wasted time.

He missed telling Patrick about his day. Or about a girl who hit on him. Hearing about his problems. Drinking beer when they weren't supposed to. Telling him things he could only tell him because the rest of the world would think he was weird or disgusting. Sometimes he wanted to call him and ask him about Liana. Talk about her like Patrick talked about every other girl. To tell him how he touched her. How he kissed her. To tell him she was his in so many ways she would never be Art's. To tell him he could walk with her hand in hand through the streets of London and introduce her as his girlfriend. Art didn't have that privilege.

He hated him so much.

"Can you stay with me on the line a bit longer?" he suddenly asked. Because he realized they had nothing more to talk about, but if she agreed, he could find solace in her breaths. In another small gesture before she disappeared from his life almost as if he had invented her. "Sure," she said. Then silence. Just air going in and out, blending between them as if miles of foreign continents and months of heartbreak and disappointment didn't separate them.

Patrick lost in the third round of the tournament and came back even more disappointed and frustrated than when he left. When he entered the apartment, Liana was waiting for him. Everything was clean and a smell of food came from the kitchen.

"You're an angel," he said, and she jumped, not noticing he had arrived. He saw her smile widen as she approached him. Liana hadn't looked at him like that in months. "Hey," she said. "You look good." She added, and her lips landed on his as if they belong there. He didn't understand what was happening.

There were no complaints as his bag landed on the floor and his hands pinned her against the wall. Their kiss deepened. He felt his tongue mixing with hers to the point where he couldn't tell what his taste was and what was hers. Everything felt shared. Maybe even the dreams. A man can hope.

When they had to breathe for a moment, he pressed his forehead to hers and saw her gaze on him. Her green eyes sparkled.

"Hey," he replied, and they both giggled. "Are you hungry or can we skip that?" she asked. Patrick still didn't understand what was happening. Until a few weeks ago, she recoiled from touching him. "Is there another activity you planned, Amanda?" he asked, somewhat amused and very confused.

"I thought..." she started, standing on her toes and planting small kisses on his neck, causing him to let out a sound he didn't think he had in him, "you could show me what else your tongue can do." She bit her lip, not taking her eyes off him.

Patrick swallowed, and within seconds she found herself over his shoulder, her butt facing up as they both laughed.

"All you had to do was ask, Amanda." His free hand lightly smacked her ass before he threw her onto the mattress, ready to dedicate the entire evening to her, and if she behaved like that, he might dedicate his entire life to her.

Hey guys It's been 3 days, which is the longest I've been without an update, but here we are.  How are we all doing??? Not gonna lie, I loved hearing from you after the last part. Keep talking to me in the ask box. It's as fun as actually writing the story.  Talk to me if you want to join the taglist 💜

taglist: @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[carmenized-onions]

Zero Pulse. | Oven Hotfix

logline; It's Friday.

[!!!] series history, this is the tenth; You're gonna need to check to make sure you're caught up babe because there's a LOT of context behind this one.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. Wish you could sort by emotions, on playlists, but this is really a very good playlist i think.

portion; 12.5k Jesus Christ, new record.

possible allergies; Incredibly excessive hateful self-image, very frivolous way of talking about mental illness/death/Mikey, I'd say just like ? stress? BLOOD ALSO !! minor cut dw

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (gets she/her'd into oblivion this round, mb)

said it before i'll say it again, this is the new best and longest chapter i've written-- of all time now. and im being so fr if i don't get actually like harassed in my inbox with the amount of people chattering about this i will WALK INTO THE PIER BITCH

It’s Friday morning, and today is the first day in possibly years that Carmen has actually snoozed his alarm. Opting to sleep in for an extra hour, despite how uncomfortable his whole body is where it lays. He’s trying to avoid waking up today— Because he knows, he can tell: Today is just not going to be his day, today. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, today— Not even—

He fell asleep on his couch, last night. His TV is still on and when he turns it off, it sizzles from being on the stupid Cooking Channel for so long. He’s covered in crumbs, hands coated in chip dust— Chin and neck sticky with spilled Diet Coke. Just don’t wake up and you won’t have to clean it. The day can’t get him, if it never starts.

But then his alarm rings again, for maybe the hundredth time, and there’s no real reason as to why this time is different from the other times, but he suddenly remembers why he fell asleep on his couch, last night. Why he had such a difficult time crawling just fifteen feet further when he got home last night. His face grows hot and red with shame and embarrassment, like a child.

A plate was sent back. A plate he made, was sent back.

Most would find it too dramatic, but he really did almost throw up. Syd gave him an antacid— From a pocket pack that you gave her. Did it help all that much? No. But at least he kept everything down. He just heaved a lot, in the walk-in. Probably good that he didn’t eat much of anything, yesterday.

He’d been thinking far too much. Spent way too long thinking about what to make for you, tonight— Which is fine, you’re inspiring— But he should’ve been keeping those thoughts to pen and paper. But he was making the stupid fucking roux for the stupid fucking order and his autopilot system got all mixed up and suddenly he was making a fantastic Montmorency, but an awful roux. Fucking brain dead, Berzatto. Talentless. Can you not handle this?

How is it possible, to fuck up that bad? You’re terrible at this. His instinct— Everyone’s instinct was to tell the patron to get off their fucking high horse. There’s always that one guest, that thinks they own the goddamn place. But then the dish came back to the kitchen, and everyone just stared. Silent. He was mortified. Is it too much for you? Practically unrecognizable, from what was ordered. It was entirely his fault. Dumb fuck. So fucking slow.

What happened to him? Seriously, what the fuck happened, to him? How could he possibly forget what’s important here? What’s at stake? He can’t look himself in the eyes when he brushes his teeth. Why are you so fucking slow? You are bullshit.

Regrettably, you happened to him; in a good and bad way.

He sighs, washing your conditioner out of his hair in the shower. Scrunching it, as you’d directed. He listens, he does. He takes direction well. Go faster, motherfucker. And he likes you, Carmen does. You are not tough. And he doesn’t fault you for being a good person, no, he faults himself.

He’s not meant to be a good person, he’s meant to be a good chef.

He’s not meant to be a good work partner, with Syd— That doesn’t get results. Everyone thinks they’re happier when he’s happier, sure, but they’re in the red. They’re not gonna be so fucking happy when their cheques start bouncing. It doesn’t matter how good a person he is— What matters is what he’s actually capable of providing— And it’s not amusement or enjoyment— It’s fucking talent. But he sought out your affections, your approval, in a key moment, in every moment— In place of who he should’ve— A Michelin Inspector.

He's let himself forget, what it meant, what it takes, to get a star.

And that made him fuck up a dish— A simple fucking dish. Again, not your fault, his. But God, he wants both. Carmen needs both. He can have both. You should be dead. He just needs to lock it in, keep it tight, push it down, comb it back, you should be dead—

He needs to spray his hair with rosemary, it’s looking thin. The basil on his balcony is coming in nicely, though.

It’s just hit four o’clock when you’re mostly finished getting ready— Well, you are ready, but, y’know, final checks and all that. You smooth out your palazzo pants. Gotta look presentable. Or at the very least, normal.

The Bear is high-class, you’re not going there as a repairman, tonight, for once. Plus, Richie wears suits twenty-four fucking seven now— So you need to dress accordingly, or he and every other guest there are going to look at you like you’re some broke freak. Which, like, not inaccurate, but still hurtful. You’ve broken out the good but not too good jewelry. Money talks, wealth whispers, or some shit. Black turtleneck, blue pants— To match the stupid fucking Executive Chef’s eyes, or whatever, shut up! The pants are not actually that bright, but you think they’d still pair well with Carmen. And even if they didn’t, they match The Bear’s aesthetic, and you like to remain on theme, even when there isn’t really at all a required theme.

Not like you’re going to be seeing much of Carmen tonight, anyway. As much as you’d like to see him, he didn’t send you his Connections, this morning, not even after you sent yours, and you’re taking that as a sign that today is probably rough. And not in the way that can be helped by talking to a person, either, in fact, probably the exact opposite.

You debate whether or not to wear Carmen’s jean jacket. This is a thin turtleneck, and it’d go really well with the whole outfit, and like, Sydney already caught on— It’s only a matter of time before the whole kitchen clocks it.

Yeah, fuck it, hard launch this situationship. You toss it over your shoulders. Okay, okay, one last last final fit check. Hm. Yeah, you’ve definitely gotta put the necklace away. You kiss the plastic pendant for good luck, before tucking it under your shirt. Not ready for that story, just yet. You will be, eventually. But you certainly don’t want Carmen to notice and ask about it. Soon, though. You will, soon.

You grab your purse, your keys, your finished art piece— Wrapped, neatly, in brown paper, with a little card taped to it. Okay, that’s everything. One last last last final review. Makeup? Great. Hair? Perfect. Outfit? Stunning— Fuck, what shoes are you going to wear? Fuck fuck fuck—

Alright, you know it’s not the shoes you’re worried about. Just get out the door, Chip. It’s gonna be fine, Chip. Dinner’s gonna be good, and normal, actually, because two people having their first real one-on-one conversation after their mutual best friend killed himself just under a year ago is historically always super calm and chill and normal, actually. That’s how that works. It’s not gonna be tense, at all.

This is immediately so tense. “Hey. Good to— Good to see you.”

You go in for the hug, so does Richie, only then do you both realize how full your hands are. And then it becomes a weird side hug from you combined with a full hug from him. It’s terrible, this is terrible, this is so tense. Maybe you can still run and have it not be weird, somehow.

“You— Too.” Richie clears his throat, “Cousin.”

It’s not like this is the first time you’ve seen each other since, no, you’ve seen each other thrice now, but it was different all those times. You were helping Carmen escape a freezer, or having an episode over a broken toilet, or delivering a baby— It wasn’t awkward all those times because it couldn’t be. You didn’t have time to be awkward, they were always emergencies.

“So uh, Fak’s gonna be our, our server?”

“Yessir.”

“He any good?”

“No-sir.”

But this meet up is intentional, booked. It’s got a point to it, and both of you know what it is. You’re just anxiously waiting for the other person to be brave enough to bring it up. Thankfully, neither of you have to, just yet, as Fak sidles up to the host stand.

He’s pushing so many buttons on the P.O.S. before even speaking to either of you that you’re starting to believe he doesn’t know what the fuck the buttons he’s pushing are doing. Based on the way Richie starts to lean over the stand to see what he’s doing, you’re pretty sure you’re right.

“I— I got it, man.” Fak puts a hand up, defensive. Richie backs up, then gestures for Fak to get the fuckin’ show on the road. He does.

“Table for, for uh, how many are you?”

“Oh wow.” It comes out of you instantly, in a true state of shock, at how bad this is already going. You cover your mouth, uh oh, inside thought became outside thought. “Sorry!”

Richie loses it, next to you. You slap his shoulder with your free arm, but you’re laughing too. “Don’t be mean!”

“You’re the one bein’ mean, Chip!”

“I didn’t— He’s trying.” You turn your head back to Fak. “I— Table for two, darling. M’sorry.”

Fak is quick to fold and forgive you, you’ve just called him darling— If a siren ever called to him, he would be dead. “Right, right this way— My name is Neil, I’ll be your server, tonight.”

You follow him to a table that lets you see pretty well into the kitchen. It’s a decent trade-off for not getting a cozy little booth. You look into the window, everyone’s far too focused to know you’re here, right now, but that’s okay— It’s not rushed right now, though, so that is a little… weird.

Richie pulls out your chair, fake Italian chivalry, and what not. When you’re half way through sitting down, a few things are realized instantly, and all three of you speak simultaneously.

“Oh, I should drop this off in the back, first.” Your art piece, you mean.

“Is that Carmy’s?” Your jacket, Fak means.

“You’re fucking Carmen?” What the fuck else could Richie possibly mean.

“I—” You pause, pointing to Fak, first. “Yes, it is.” Then pivot to Richie, “No, I’m not. It’s more like a reservation—”

“Don’t talk about your sex life like it’s a restaurant.” He waves his hand in the air, immediately regretting asking. Listen, it was just the first metaphor on the brain.

“You fuckin’ asked! And we haven’t done shit yet— Not even a fuckin’ date, a’right? Technically not even dating.” It takes maybe, two seconds, in the presence of Richie, for you to go full Chicago accent. It’s unhinged. You have to stand up. “I’m gonna drop this off, in the back.” You lift up the wrapped piece. “I’ll be back, don’t be weird.”

As you walk off, you do your best to pretend you don’t hear Fak mumbling, “Bet it’s one of those sex paintings.”

But it’s very hard to do so when Richie all but booms out a resounding and genuinely baffled, “...What?”

As much as you’d like to continue to hear that insane conversation, you swing through the door, and it’s thankfully a pretty soundproof divider, considering all the yelling you know happens in here.

“Chefs, table twenty-four, two people.” “Yes, Chef.”

Or… Maybe… It’s instead, weirdly subdued? In a tense way, not a calm way. Like when a knife falls off a table, and you’re not sure if it’s going to stab you in the foot and there’s no time to pull back.

“Twenty-one, four people.” “Yes, Chef.”

That kind of quiet. The calm before the storm, maybe. The fall before the blood, you think may be more accurate. God, Syd looks exhausted and it’s only half past four. The rush hasn’t even started yet. Why are they pushing so hard, right now?

Carmen’s on expo. Which, based on the night terrors he told you about, seems like a recipe for fucking disaster. Again, he’s not yelling. His voice is monotone, it sounds dead, frankly, and you’re wondering if you would prefer him screaming, actually.

There’s a mantra, amongst first responders, that it’s better to hear screaming than silence, because then you know they have a pulse, they’re drawing breath, they’re able to feel. You can’t honestly tell, with Carmen.

Syd hands off a plate to expo, to Carmen. He calmly, quickly— And like, really quickly, barely more than a two second glance is given, to the dish, before he says, “Refire, Chef.”

Oh, Jesus Christ. Not your business, not your restaurant, don’t overstep. But God, it hurts to watch the order hit Syd in the face, like a splash of cold water. She repeats, in disbelief. “Refire?” The dish looks fine to her— And it sure as fuck looks fine to you.

“Yes, Chef.”

“Why, exactly? Chef?”

Carmen does not look up from his system, he does not watch what is practically heartbreak, mortification, tempered anger, play out on Syd’s face. “Not perfect. Fire twenty, twenty-five— Two waiting on twenty, Chefs.”

“Heard!”

“Not perfect?”

He looks up, finally, at her. You can only see the back of his head, so you can’t tell the look. “Sauce is broken.” It’s definitely not. Well, at least to your untrained eye, it’s not. “We don’t serve what’s not perfect. Do we, Chef?” He slides the plate aside, deading it.

“Do you want your star, or not?” You don’t think he means to be antagonistic, or at least hope he doesn’t, but it really comes off that way. He rubs his chest, but his tone lack empathy.

Syd closes her eyes, taking a breath. She has so many words, for this man, but she holds her tongue. She does not rub her chest in return, she just restarts the dish. “Yes, Chef.”

“Thank you, Chef.”

There’s a lull in orders, for the moment, so you very gently place your hand on Carmen’s back, to make him aware of your presence. As gentle as you try to be, he still flinches. Anyone over his shoulder would make him flinch right now, but it’s you. “Oh—!”

Now, do you let out a small yelp, inadvertently, when he turns to look at you, and you see him as he is right now? Yeah, yeah you do.

“—Good to— Did you just scream, at the sight of me?”

Syd puts a hand over her mouth, heavy exhale of laughter still escaping through her nose. Schadenfreude.

Your mouth hangs open, for a second, squinting, goddammit, inside thought got outside, “…No?”

“What— What, I look bad?” He’s immediately looking over himself, trying to find the culprit. And though the emotion he’s feeling right now is insecurity, you feel relief that at the very least, the glow of anything is shining through him, right now.

Doesn’t make you a fan of the slicked-back hair look, though. That’s what made you yell— Like when a dog or a baby doesn’t recognize their parent. Like when Mikey shaved for the first time after you met him, and you considered him completely unrecognizable. You practically ignored him until some stubble came in. What did he expect?

You also just don’t like it. Clean-Shaved Mikey nor Hair-Gel Carmen. The pomade is overpowering your shampoo, and now he doesn’t smell like you. Doesn’t smell like him. His curls are all gone— Man, his pattern was just starting to revive, too. He looks just too clean, too cookie-cutter, too… Someone else. He just doesn’t look like— “No, Bear, you look good— I just— You look— Don’t look like the Carmy I’m used to, is all.”

Who are you to tell him what he looks like? You don’t know why, but the energy today is just making you feel like… You’re intruding, you’re stepping in on a space that has nothing to do with you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth, right?

He nods, compartmentalizing, only acknowledging that you’ve said he looks good. “You look nice.”

“I clean up.” You shrug, it gets a nearly imperceptible smile out of him. Hm. Where’d your Carmen go? He’s really making you work for it, tonight. You gesture to your painting, holding it by your knees. “Not here to disrupt, M’just gonna put this in your office, for later.”

“Painting?”

“Incredible guess.” Again, that smile and that exhale of laughter, thin. “Yes, it’s the piece— Wait ‘til close, to open it, please.”

He nods, when you start to walk off, he grabs your arm. “Ah, uh—” He lets go. “Can I, uh— I planned— I planned an off-menu main, for you, is that, that okay—”

“It would always be okay, yeah.” You nod, reassuring. It would be more than okay, if Carmen decided and designed every meal you ever had for the rest of your life, you think. “Trust you— With, with my taste buds.”

You’re not sure if it’s the right move, but you awkwardly step forward and kiss Carmen’s temple anyways— In his hairline. He seems to care a lot about appearances, right now, so you don’t want to get lip gloss on his forehead. Despite your quickness, there is still a very childish ‘ooooh’ reverberating throughout the kitchen. But he’s ignoring it, so you ignore it too. Carmen, more than anything, would like to reciprocate, but he’s running a kitchen, and he cannot let himself nor the crew get distracted. He nods, smile small, and turns back to his station.

“Waiting on twenty, Chefs.”

You don’t take it personally; the guy is busy, what can you do? You drop the painting off in his office, leaning it against the table for Carmen’s perusal after close— It’s not the kind of piece he should look at during his break— Who are you kidding, you saw him, he’s not taking a break tonight. God, he might hate this piece. What if he hates this piece? It’s a risk you have to take, it’s art. Hopefully the card will help smooth any questions over. You’re clearer over text, you think.

On your way out of the kitchen, you nod to Marcus and Tina. A sign of ‘Hey, I’m here, I know we can’t talk, but I’m here.’ They nod back. When you pass Sydney, you take a moment to squeeze her shoulder. That star thing was rough, but you don’t know enough about cooking to intervene— It’s not your place. Still feel for your girl, though. Awe, you’ve only just noticed, she’s wearing your collar pins. She puts her free hand over yours, squeezing it in return, just for a second. She doesn’t turn to face you, but the silent encouragement and sympathy is exchanged. She gets back to work, and you get back out to the front.

If there was time for it, you’d be her designated coach and cheerleader, find a motivational bookshelf to carry somewhere again and give a speech, but there’s not. So, this will have to do, for now.

Fak is absolutely bombing every step of this introduction, when you sit back down. The second-hand embarrassment is truly eating you alive, as he stumbles through today’s specials, which, you’re pretty sure is not the order these things happen in—

“Hey, uh, Neil, wasssit?” Richie scratches his nose, attempting to play the part of blind customer. “How ‘bout drinks first, bud?” He’s trying to keep a sympathetic attitude, which is making all of his pointers come off as extremely passive aggressive.

“Yeah, for sure, right, yeah— What’uh— What can— Drinks? Hey, hey you want? Drink?”

You cup a hand over your mouth, to block your mortified expression. “Yeah, yeah, Neil, I’ll just have a water.”

“Water!” Fak yells back, way too fucking emphatically, “I— I love water, that’s so crazy.”

“Jesus Christ.” Richie holds his face in his hands, elbows on the table. “I’ll get a fuckin’…” He lifts a hand to wave in the air, willy-nilly, still not looking up. “Chippy, name a wine.”

“Red?” Richie usually doesn’t have wine. It’s the rich man’s beer. But when he does, it’s red.

“Mhm.”

He’s probably gonna get steak, just go with a safe bet, “Cab Sav, for the gentleman, please.”

Fak writes it down, but seems bewildered and confused, staring at it. “You want a taxi?”

“Oh my god.” You and Richie are in unison. Two very different tones, though. You sound baffled, he sounds like he’s two seconds from lunging.

Which, isn’t an entirely unfair reaction, Fak has been training for this moment for a month. Rich thought he’d at least be ready to start with you. You’re the least intimidating person he knows, you wouldn’t hurt a fly. Maybe that’s what makes it so difficult? That you’re too nice? Even still, Fak should at least know this, not choke as hard as he is, right now. It’s embarrassing for Richie, when his staff are flailing this bad, especially in front of the people he loves and admires.

Rich wrings his hands together, looking back up to you. “I fucking taught him this, just so y’know.”

You nod, looking to Fak. You’ve just gotta get him out of here, honestly. “Cabernet Sauvignon, baby— Just a glass, not a bottle. We’ll look over our menus, in the meantime, maybe?”

The sleeper agent line has been spoken, and the server autopilot in Fak’s brain finally turns on. “Right. I’ll just give you lovely two a second to look over your menus, alright, haha, be safe— Be back with your drinks, folks.”

The delivery may need a little work. Though you think his edits should probably start with the way he walks backwards, eye-contact unyielding, and almost trips as he pushes backwards into the kitchen door. That might be considered bad, to some.

“Trainwreck.” Richie presses his palms into his eyes. “M’fuckin’ sorry, Chippy, Jesus Christ.”

You shrug, leaning back in your seat. “I don’t see a problem, it’s dinner and a show, baby.”

Richie laughs, at that, after a few seconds of silence, he adds. “He’s not gonna fuckin’ last.”

“Probably not.” You shrug. “But it was worth a shot. N’ he’ll do in a pinch, if you’re ever short-staffed.”

“We are always short-staffed.” Richie grumbles. “Do fuckin’ servers ever actually stage? Need the free labour.”

“What the fuck is stage?”

“I honestly still don’t know.” You both laugh. “I fuckin’ did it and I still don’t know.”

“What have you been up to, besides uh, staging?” You finally open Pandora’s box.

Well, it’ll stay small talk for a little bit, to be fair, gotta warm up to the real stuff—

“Tif’s getting remarried.”

“—Oh, holy shit.”

He nods, looking aimlessly nowhere, certainly not your eyes. “Engaged, at least— Haven’t gotten a fuckin’ invite, or anythin’.”

“You think she’ll invite you?”

“She asked.” He closes his eyes, for a second. This has been hanging over his head, all day. “Called, this uh, this morning, cause of Cousin Vinnie n’ Mira—”

“She comin’ to that?” You’ve never actually met Tif. They were on the rocks when you’d come to The Beef, so it was mostly just waves through car windows, if anything. It might be better if it stays that way, you think.

He shakes his head, “Someone’s gotta take care of Eva, n’ she’s got work. But the invite made her think of my invite, and uh, if I’d want one, come when it may.”

These are the moments you wish you had a glass of water, so you could sip and do something with your mouth and hands, as you think of what to say. He continues, because he knows you’re going to ask, “Said I’d think about it.”

“I think it’s okay, if you don’t want to.” You lean forward, as a show of sympathy. “That’d be a fuckin’ lot, for anyone.”

“Yeah. Yeah, but it’s uh, it’s— I’m good, Chip.” Richie leans back in his seat, swiping at his nose. He’ll talk about it when he’s ready, and you know that. He makes eye-contact, again, finally. “How’ve you been holdin’ up?”

You bite at your lip, alright, its fucking game time, this is what you’ve been prepping for, time to tell him everything you’ve been thinking about, for the past year, time to tell someone other than your former therapist what the fuck is in your head. “I—”

“Drinks! Hyah!” Fak busts through the door, far too boisterous. It scares a few patrons, and honestly you, a little bit. He returns to your table, pitcher and bottle of wine on a tray— Hey, it actually is a Cab Sav, he did it! Gotta celebrate the victories, here.

You can’t help but notice, as Fak pours your glass of water and attempts small talk, that he seems a bit more distressed than he did before he went in the kitchen. You crane your neck to peek through the window. Hm. Syd and Carmy are not where they were before. They’re talking. It doesn’t look like a fight, though. Let it lie. You’ve really got to let it lie, because Fak is in front of you, staring straight forward like he’s in a catatonic liminal state, not acknowledging either you or Richie with his gaze. A touch disconcerting, possibly.

“So, hey, you guys, you guys like food?”

Your lips form a line. “Fak, are you okay?”

“I’m great—” His voice cracks, oh dear. “Am I doing great?”

“You’re certainly trying—” “You’re fucking this up tremendously.” At least Richie is honest, and usually you are too, but, when it comes to a trainwreck, you’ve gotta tell the train they’re doing a great job. You just can’t bear to let it know it’s on fire.

When your glass of water starts to overflow, you take the pitcher from Fak’s hand so he can’t keep overpouring it in his fugue state. Jesus Christ, what happened in the kitchen? Who died? Actually, probably don’t joke about that.

It’s in within this moment that you learn a lot of things very quickly. First thing you learn, Sweeps is a server now, you guess. He’s in the suit, coming out of the kitchen, terrified, serving tray in hand, two champagne flutes wobble upon it. Second thing you learn, Sweeps is not a good server, or at the very least, isn’t right now, he’s too shell-shocked to keep any level of awareness of where he’s going. He bumps into Fak’s back. Third thing you learn, Richie has great reflexes, he catches the wine bottle from Fak’s tray. You have decent reflexes, managing to reach an arm out in time to keep Sweeps from entirely falling over and eating shit.  

You were however, not able to keep the champagne flutes from elegantly flying off of Sweep’s tray, and falling to the ground, shattering. Sonofabitch.

There’s a silence, then an overlapping chorus from the two distressed servers, “I’ve got it, I’ve got it, I’ve got it—” That’s the fourth and last thing you’re able to clock immediately. These two know serving is not for them. They do best sweeping or fixing, not fucking talking to people. Breaking something and needing to clean it up is like a gift from God, to them, they’re genuinely fighting to be the one to clean it up. They end up tag-teaming it, as they feel Richie’s quiet glare burn into them. He’s gotten very good at silently laying down the law. They apologize, scramble to clean, hastily apologize, and rush back into the kitchen as soon as possible.

Fuck. It’s like Richie texted, Fak has shit the bed, and that almost certainly means your dinner is gonna get cut short. You’re not going to get the chance to tell him everything— Let alone anything you wanted to get out. You won’t get to apologize properly, and then he’ll head right back on his shift, and you’ll just be the kitchen’s friend that’s taking up a table. Fuck, you’ve got to try to stumble something of note out.

“I missed you, Rich.”

The man in question turns his head from looking through the kitchen window, back to you, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I was here.” Could’ve visited.

“I know.” No, I couldn’t.

He nods. The unexchanged words are still understood between the both of you, somehow. You fiddle with your fingers, gearing up to just say your big speech, you practiced it in the car ride here, if you just cut it down to the key bullet points, you can probably get it all out.

“Richie, I’m sor—”

Once again, Fak interrupts, door swinging open, he looks extremely panicked this time, tripping over nothing, sweating like it’s a million degrees, looking to both of you, alright the kitchen situation seems to have escalated. It seems like he’s about to scream to you— But then remembers that there are guests other than you and Richie, in the front of house, and so he speed walks to your table.

Richie is the one to ask this time, “Are you fuckin’ good—?”

“Uh-uh.” Fak shakes his head, in repetitive, tight small swivels. His posture militantly straight, taught, eyes darting everywhere, like there’s spies lurking in the booths, watching him. He speaks through tight teeth, to hide his words from onlookers. “Bad. Bad bad.”

“Bad bad?” You repeat after him, waiting for him to lend any explanation to the subject, he doesn’t really.

“Need you.” He nods to Richie. Then nods to you. He looks… Disdainful? Remorseful, maybe. To be doing so. “You too. Bad.”

Richie looks to you, letting you make the call, here. You look at him and sigh, your plan has been utterly ruined, your speech— Dashed. He adds. “Intermission?”

There’s no way this is just going to be an intermission. “Intermission.”

You both stand, he takes his wine glass, then takes the bottle, a bit more realistic. You take your water. Cheers, and into the cesspool you go, abandoning your table, for what Richie hopes is for an interim, for what you both know is for the night.

The first thing you notice, Carmen’s not at expo. No one’s on expo, actually. Which feels like a problem. The second thing you notice is where Carmen actually is— In the walk-in— Not locked in, no, not this time. No, you notice he’s there because he’s yelling, better than zero pulse, but you still wince. All yelling makes you wince.

“Who was on veggie prep today?! What is this dice, Chefs!?” He storms out, large deli container of onions in his hand— He’s bringing it to his station— Which was Syd’s station, but he’s now co-opted it, seemingly, as she’s not there. However, in her stead, are five more containers of pre-diced veggies— You imagine Carmen brought those out, too. “We are not serving fucking sandwiches, anymore, Chefs—”

Carmen stops short of his aggression, when he sees you. You can’t tell if you like that. You’re pretty sure you don’t. What’s that stupid idiom? Mean to the world, good to your girl? Don’t like that. Don’t like two faces. Don’t like the shade on the old sandwiches— Mikey’s sandwiches, either.

Carmen doesn’t move to you, or anything like that though, no, he’s busy— With what exactly, you’re not sure. No fucking way he’s redoing all the prep right now, right? That would be insane. The dices are fine, and they can’t just waste food right now with their budget nor their time— Fucking Christ, he is actually redoing the prep and making Tina use the old for broth— Oh dear God.

The third thing you notice is where Syd really is, in lieu of her station. She’s having what looks like a panic attack with Sweeps by the ovens. Your legs move to her before your brain really registers anything else, and you can hear behind you that Richie has gone to Carmen and is handling expo. Fak did not need to tell either of you what your jobs needed to be back here, you just know.

“This is, this is just fucking great—” Syd heaves, holding onto the handle of the oven. Next to her, Sweeps is still in his hosting attire, but he’s mopping up water by Syd’s feet. There’s a tipped over mop bucket on the ground. He looks significantly more comfortable now, but still equally as distressed as the rest of the kitchen seems to be.

You put a hand on Syd’s shoulder, leaning down to her level. “Bubs, what’s going on? M’here.”

“Fucking everything is going on.” She starts to catch her breath; she brushes your hand away. You know it’s because she has sensory overload, it still kind of hurts, though. “Carmen’s fucking freaking…”

“No shit.” You step aside and lift your left foot, when Sweeps needs to mop by your feet. “Why, though?”

“On our opening night, he had a fuckin’— Episode, I dunno.” She’s still keeled over, hands on her knees, but she’s breathing. “N’ he had this like— Like saw this guy, who wasn’t actually there. Out—” She nods her head to the window to the front of house. She stands up, again. “Out there.”

“His, his old Executive— Chef.”

“Oh.”

The night terrors. The oven. The fire. The wanting it to happen, even just a little bit. The man who’s in his head, talking to Carmen, every night. The man he saw on his opening night, apparently. Your poor Carmen.

“Yeah, yeah he was like— Apparently kind of a dick—” Understatement of the century. “But like, so is he.” Syd nods to Carmen. You can’t completely deny that. You wish you could. “Anyways, he called.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I fucking know.” She nods, emphatic. She then realizes that this story is going to take a second, and gestures to the oven behind her. “This won’t turn on, spilt water on it.”

“Oh.” You take a beat, then remember this is what your job is, “Oh!” You feel around the pockets of your pants. Should’ve expected to bring a screwdriver, at the very least, it’s The Bear. Get with the program. The tools are in your car, to be fair, but for a quick simple check-up—

You call out, “Yo, Fak—” “Yes?”

You jump, he’s standing a mere inch behind and adjacent from you. You hold your heart, stepping back from him, just a touch. “…Do you… Have a screwdriver?”

Neil leans back, like he’s tough, like he’s sizing you up. “Something broken?”

“Tryin’ to figure that out.”

“Cause you’re a repairman.”

“Cause I’m a repairman, yeah.”

“You got a degree?”

“Just give her the fucking screwdriver!” Syd yells before you can answer. Fak begrudgingly and with a lethargic show, hands you the screwdriver from his chest pocket.

Jealous, is he? Oh, that’s cute. That’s very cute. He’s the one that said he wanted to host— Whatever, no time to tease or bicker, you’re pulling the oven out, trying to lift as much as possible with Syd’s help, to keep from scrapping tile, but it’s inevitable.

You kneel down, taking the screws out the back, “So Exec dude, he called?”

“Uh-huh.” Syd focuses on her pan on the oven next to you— Thankfully that one did not get fucked in the crossfire— so they’re short but not fucked, just yet, at least. “Called Carmen, said he’d heard about the opening— That he wants to come try the place.”

“Right, but he’s from New York, isn’t he, you’ve got time—”

“He already took a flight here; he’ll be here in thirty.”

“Oh, my fucking God.”

“I fucking know.” Everything is going on. It’s all starting to make a lot more sense now. The kitchen’s general distress, Fak and Sweeps dropping shit from anxiety but also an inadvertent way to guarantee Richie does not table them with the fucking guy, Carmen’s sudden paranoia over someone noticing a decimal less than perfect dice— Because he would, he will.

The man in Carmen’s head that’s been torturing him has at the very least been confined to his head. And now he will be materializing, before his family, to dress him down at any opportunity, in thirty fucking minutes. Oh, your poor Carmen…

“And this guy—He’s like, like fucking big, if he likes the food— Likes The Bear— We might end up getting an inspector, in here.”

You lean out from the back of the oven, practically being swallowed by it. Confused. “Getting an inspector is a good thing?” To your knowledge, inspectors are what shuts down restaurants.

“A Michelin Guide Inspector.” Oh, fuck.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah, I fucking know!” Syd replies, emphatic, Richie calls out an order to her, from expo. She clears her throat. “Heard, Chef.”

A Michelin Guide Inspector. What’s that mean? Well, if you’re thinking correctly, it means a star. It means accolades. It means recognition. It means money. It means 800k. It means not going under. It means clawing their way back out of the woods. It means everything. Oh, fuck.

“So, anyways—” Syd sautés, violently. “Carmen fuckin’ finishes that call, storms out the office, and like demands shit to be perfect— Which like— Like it should be, I know, but like— Tellin’ me to fuckin’ mop already perfectly clean floors, is like, like fucking stupid— Especially when I’m fucking cooking here, like what?”

It’s amid this retelling, as you stand, that you notice Syd’s hand— The left one, the one on the pan’s handle, is bleeding, two of her fingers, cut. “And I— I fucked up, like, like I know I did. I dropped the mop bucket, n’— n’ now my fucking oven won’t turn on.”

You take her hand, she tries to rip it away, you don’t let her. “I cut it on the edge of the bucket, stupid sharp plastic, I’m good—”

“Lemme just bandage it.” You’re already fishing through your pocket, with your free hand.

She’s quick to shake her head. “You need to figure out how I fucked up the oven.”

“I already know what’s wrong with the oven.” You pull out your wallet, flitting through the bill fold with your fingers— You keep band-aids there, in case of emergency, because of course you do. Syd tries to tug her hand away, again. Her blood is rubbing onto your fingers. It’s not a big cut, but it’s enough. You can’t help remember the ye old days of you as teens, hearing about the concept of blood brothers for the first time, and genuinely considering going through with it. Funny what time does. Funny who it brings back.

“Then fix the oven.”

You mumble, tearing the paper open with your teeth. “This first.”

“I’m fucking good, Tony.”

“Don’t bark at me.”

She grimaces when she notices they’re children’s band-aids, with goofy little cartoon heroes on them. “I don’t fucking need—”

“Sydney, I love you.” There is no subtext, behind it. You look her in the eyes, stern. Tone inarguable. It catches the words in her throat, and keeps them there.

“Will you let me?”

She shuts her eyes, tight, for a second, and just looks away, hand going limp in your grip. Which means okay, I love you, too. She does not need to say it. You wrap two band-aids, one around each finger that got cut, and let her go.

Syd takes a second, to look at it. She looks at you.

“The Miles Morales feels racially targeted.”

“I fuckin’ hate you.” You point at her, you both break into laughter. Richie barks out another slew of numbers and orders, and it’s like getting caught talking in class. She goes back to her cast-iron, you start walking off to Rich. From behind you she mumbles.

“Love you, Inky.” Oh my God. Chippy’s a flashback, Inky is like a history textbook.

“Love ya, Squid.”

At expo, Richie’s sweating, he turns to you, and you speak at once.

“Carmy give you the run down?” — “Syd tell you the bullshit?”

You both nod. You’re first to ask, “Fuck dinner?”

“Raincheck. Let’s say.” He shrugs. “M’sorry.”

“Don’t need to be.” You nod to the oven. “Thermocouple in your oven’s broke. I have backups in my car.”

“You have backups in your fucking car?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Of the one hyper-specific part we need?”

“Yeah, the timing is crazy—” “Ey, when’d you get a fucking car, Cousin?” Richie realizes a discrepancy he simply always forgot to ask about for the past few weeks.

“Early this year. It’s a piece of shit. It works.”

He nods. “Hands!” Fak, swings by you, grabbing the plate from Richie, “Got this!”

Richie nods, smiling, very clearly fake, turning his head to watch Fak walk all the way out and have the door swing shut behind him. When he’s sure Fak can’t hear him, his head snaps right back to you. “We cannot let any of my fuckin’ staff near the fuckin’ big shot.”

It’s honestly nice that dinner is over, despite how bad you wanted to talk because now it’s this. Now it’s nostalgic. Now it’s comfortable— Distressing— But it’s you two, again. You nod. “So you’re gonna run expo and serve him at the same time?”

“What, you think I can’t?”

No, you don’t. “Of course you can, you’re Richie Jero—Uh, whatever the fuck.” You’re already walking to the back door to grab your tools.

“Jerimovich, Chippy! Not that fuckin’ hard!”

You should put oven expert on your business cards, when you eventually get to making new business cards. This is like, the third oven fix you’ve done in two weeks? And you just changed a thermocouple a few days ago! It takes you maybe five minutes tops, to switch the old wire for the good one.

When you push the stove back against the wall and test the burners— It works, thank God. You might’ve hyped yourself up a little too much before even checking that. Once you do, though, before even saying it’s fixed, Syd violently shakes your left shoulder, as a point of approval. Tina, on your right, slaps you on the back several times as her vow of praise, too. This is like riding a roller-coaster, and not in a good way.  

But it ends soon, as they’ve got to get right back to work, since Richie calls out—

“Guys fuckin’ here!” That’s like, ten minutes early, bullshit— “He brought a party of five—” Are you fucking kidding— “Booth Twelve— When I say booth twelve, don’t fuck up booth twelve, a’right, Chefs?”

“Heard!”

Where’s Carmen, right now? You look around— He’s at his station, on the final part of the line. He’s simultaneously making a dish completely on his own and doing the final touches on plates before they get sent out. Alright, okay, so maybe it’s best expo doesn’t get foisted on him, right now. But fuck, how is Richie gonna serve five and run this fucking kitchen?

Tina claps your back again, bringing you out of your state of worry. “Baby.”

“Yeah, T?” She turns your attention to a big pot of stock, on the burners that now work, thanks to you.

“Can you just stir this, f’me, for just a minute? Make sure the—”

“I’ll get the brown off the bottom yeah.”

She slaps your cheek, approving, “That’s my baby.”

And so, you stir. It’s an easy job, it just takes time— Time this kitchen doesn’t have, time you’re happy to give. Tina rushes over and takes over expo, while Richie moves out to take in stupid fucking booth twelve.

This kitchen is dysfunctional, the constant switches of expo require everyone to find a new rhythm, every time, and T needs to play catch up. Tina, Carmen, and Richie run expo just a touch differently from each other, since it’s a pretty cookie cutter job— But those minute differences change a lot. The tempo and tonal switches throw everyone off just slightly. They’re small mistakes, like a poor aesthetic sauce splatter, like Syd cutting her hand, like Marcus fucking up his saffron placement like five times in a row— It takes seconds off, it takes time. Time you do not have.

But what can you do? It’s all hands-on deck. Except for Fak’s hands. Get that man a water and a corner to sit in. He needs a second. So does the rest of this kitchen.

When Richie comes back in, it’s with a whine, he’s already so tired of this stupid fucking Michelin Exec. “—Wants to see a fuckin’ wine menu, do we have a fuckin’ wine menu?”

“No, Chef!” Syd and Carmen both chant out from other sides of the kitchen. Your ears perk up. They could’ve just asked you to make one, you would’ve. But, guess you don’t work here, technically.

Richie grimaces, “I know fuck all, bout wine.” He takes a swig of the red wine he left sitting on the expo podium. “Tastes fuckin’— Red, I dunno.”

Finally, something you can actually help with, in a critical way— Well, you just fixed an oven, but that doesn’t count, in your head. Most things you do don’t count, in your head. “T! Switch!” You whistle to her, and though she doesn’t love being ordered around, you’re already walking away from the pot, so you don’t really give her a choice.

“Rich, let me take it.”

Richie looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, but also, he finds those two heads very amusing. “Chippy...”

“I fucking know wine. I tend. I’m personable, I—”

“You don’t know how to kiss ass.”

“But I could.” You’re already peeling off Carmen’s jacket— Hey, thank God you dressed on theme, right? This could absolutely be a server’s fit. “Under duress.”

If it were up to Richie, you would already be out there. But his name is not on The Bear, as much as he’d like it to be. He looks to Carmen, who’s been staring at the both of you this entire interaction. Which is kind of concerning, he should probably be focusing on his three-quarter dice or he might to chop his fucking fingers off. No, he’s wouldn’t. He could probably do it with his eyes closed.

Carmen looks from Richie, who’s silently asking him for permission, to you. “Y’sure?”

“Yeah.” You nod, tucking his jacket under the expo podium. You don’t catch the way his face hardens, just a bit— Because you turn your gaze to Richie. “I’ll just do the drinks part, like an actual somme— Warm him up, f’you, when he’s ready to order. Let you stay on expo, longer.”

Richie rocks his head back and forth, considering it. You tack on, “I’m stage— What the fuck did you call it?”

“Staging.” Carmen answers.

“That one.”

Carmen stares at his cutting board, thinking and working, working and thinking. He does not look up at you, when he makes his decision. He just nods, “Okay.”

You nod back, happy. You don’t wait for him to change his mind. You take one quick overview of their wine rack, noting what they do and don’t have, and then you’re off, out the door, to the front of house, to a warzone.

The motherfucker at Booth Twelve sticks out like a sore thumb. There’s something about the aura he radiates, that tells you immediately that it’s him, despite not knowing his face or name. Bet it’s fucking Tony, somehow.

He’s doing his best to peer into the kitchen window without being obvious about it, which, he’s currently failing at that. Richie sat his party in a good booth, it’s just the worst booth for a good view of the kitchen. Smart. This guy is an asshole, and it’s clear from his stupid equally punchable looking friends, that he’s doing all of this on purpose.

The big party, unexpected. The him, unexpected. The asking for a wine menu. He wants you all off guard, he wants Carmen off-guard, he wants Carmen’s breath to hitch, he wants Carmen to sweat, and most importantly, he wants to watch.

You stand in front of his view, on purpose. “Hi, pleasure to serve you lovely people tonight, I’m—” No shot you’re giving this guy your real name. “—Jack, I’m your sommelier. I heard you wanted to look over a wine menu?”

“Yes,” His voice is just as stupid as you expected it to be. This is the fucking voice Carmen hears? God, lock it in, bite your tongue. “And I see you are not holding one.”

“Well, actually, we don’t carry a wine menu because we at The Bear believe in a personally curated dining experience.” You don’t miss a beat, you don’t hitch, he hates this and you can tell. “I like to think that I’m your wine menu, flip through me at your leisure.”

Your eyes crinkle, as you do an expert customer service smile. This stupid fucking table laughs at the lukewarm joke, he just smirks, because rich men don’t have time for laughter. So, their cronies do it for them.

“Well then,” He gestures his hand, giving you the floor. “What’s the menu?”

“Ah, well, was there anything on the main menu that caught your eye, so I can best pair you?”

“Hmm…” There’s a glint in his eye, and you know you’ve just expertly set him up to say ‘No.’ And then you’ll have no fucking comeback. You’ll probably throw up on the table, fuck fuck fuck— “Yes, actually.”

Oh, thank God. “The Wagyu steak with wild mushrooms and hazelnut-gruyere croquettes?”

Oh, that’s the one Carmen made for you, weeks back, you know that one. “Ah, one of my personal favourites. I’d recommend a young Pinot Grigio, maybe a 2006 Gravner?” How the fuck did you remember that? Doesn’t matter. What matters is this motherfucker is not getting under your skin.

“And what about the braised oxtail wellington?” The hot pocket, he means. You’ve had that, too.

“We have a fantastic Barolo Brunate to pair with that, Giuseppe Rinaldi 2019.” You have no idea if it’s fantastic. Who fucking cares. It’s expensive, you know that much. You only bothered to review the top rack.

“Lot of Italian vineyards.” A woman next to him comments.

“Well, we are Italian owned, so.”

It does not end there. No, why would it? No, he and his compatriots go about naming every single fucking thing on the menu, asking you to pair it. And not to toot your own horn too much, but this is, really, the one job you feel the most trained to do. All those games with Syd, all those men at Eden’s, all the parts and tools and forty different types of wrenches you have to keep track of and memorized as a repairman— Your brain is trained for this. This isn’t easy for you, sure— But you are maybe more equipped for this than any other person you could possibly think of. Good think you don’t have to think of people, you have to think of wines.

Once you survive the gauntlet, his ‘friends’ order their actual wines— Each by the bottle. Alcoholism in the food world is crazy. Also, how are you going to carry four to five full bottles here? Dear God. Whatever, you’ll live, and make insane bank— Or, The Bear, will, rather. That’s like a thousand on wine alone. When you get to Him, he puts his menu down and sighs, it’s very clearly fake.

“Can I be honest with you?”

“I’d want for nothing more.” You’d want for a lot more; actually, you’d want for him to shut the fuck up. But this is kind of a good thing. They’ve wasted a solid ten minutes just talking wine— Giving the kitchen ample time to catch up. This guy just shot himself in the foot with the sweat plan.

“This is a fine menu, but as you said, The Bear believes in a personally curated experience.” Fuck. “I don’t know if you know this, but I have a very personal relationship with the owner.” Fuck. “Would you hate me, if I asked for you to… Surprise me?”

He doesn’t need to ask for a surprise for you to hate him, is what you want to say, but instead you just smile, appeasing, kissing ass. You hate yourself just a bit for it. “I’ll see what we can do, sir. And so, you’d like a surprise wine, as well then?”

He does a customer service smile right back. You’re both passively cursing the other. “If that’s no trouble. Oh—” He tilts his head, cocky attitude really coming to a head now, “And budget isn’t a problem. Just the best.”

“I couldn’t imagine giving anything less, sir.” Another coy smile from you, before bowing and leaving their table. Your tight shoulders fall as soon as you walk back into the kitchen.

“I want him dead.”

“Agreed. Temp check?” Richie hums flitting through his notes, “We’ve got five steaks all day, Chefs, kill two. Fire now, Chefs.”

“Yes, Chef!”

You sidle up next to Rich, “They’re trying to make us sweat with quizzes. Just know your shit and they won’t be able to touch you.”

“Heard.”

“They ordered like five fucking bottles of wine.”

“Christ.” He turns to you, at that. “You upsell?”

“Didn’t have to. Named the most expensive bottles and they didn’t give it a second thought.”

He daps you up, it is difficult to hide your pride. “That’s my fuckin’ Chippy!”

You quell your smirk to the best of your abilities, especially since it isn’t all good news, “I think they’re ready to order, one problem, though.”

“Problem?” That’s when Carmen tunes in. He hands a finished plate to Richie, who hands it off to Sweeps, who begrudgingly heads out to deliver. “What’s the problem?”

“He says he wants to be surprised.”

“Like fucking Ratatouille?”

Carmen squints at Richie, for this, incredulous. You cannot back up your man, in this case, fully on Richie’s side. “Don’t act like you didn’t fuck with Ratatouille.”

“I didn’t see it.”

“You didn’t see it?!” Carmen’s always liked it, when the two of you speak in unison. Carmen hates it, when you and Richie speak in unison. “You’d love it, Carm.”

Any other time, he’d love to entertain you, on this, but he can’t. It makes you both feel very cold, when he brushes past the idea. “I’ll think’ve something.”

You nod, already moving to the wine cooler, sorting out bottles. “You have time, I’ll stretch out serving them—Richie, help me bring out bottles? Take their orders? Two birds, one stone?”

“It’s bullet.” “It’s not.”

The wine pouring is nothing to write home about.

“Don’t mind us tag-teaming, didn’t want anyone to feel left out for a minute!”

But is definitely a weird vibe, when you and Richie serve this table. You’re both equally personable— Though, going as fast as you can without making them feel rushed. Richie needs to get back on expo A-S-A-P.

Despite the fact that both of you are just as nice as the other… This fucking guy is absolutely giving Richie more attitude, in comparison to you. You have a feeling the only reason he didn’t shut you down earlier with the menu is because you’re a hostess. Yeuch. Gross man senses are tingling, but maybe it’s just you.

Richie whispers to you, when you’re walking back to the kitchen, “He’s a fuckin’ creep, eh?”

Okay, not just you. You know it’s bad when another man notices it. “Yep.”

Whatever. Use it to your advantage, in this case, if possible. Not like you have anything to worry about, just about everyone in the kitchen would jump him for you, upon request.

Would Carmen?

It’s a weird thought to have, but it’s a thought you can’t seem to stop yourself from having. Would Carmen choose your safety and comfort, over the chance to get a chance to get a star? …He would, right? He’d choose you, right?

“M’sorry for derailin’ dinner with our bullshit, Chip.”

The door swings open, Richie lets you in first. “You kidding? No where I’d rather be, than in your bullshit.”

Maybe this is better, than any apology you were planning to give. Better that you show with your actions, that you’re both actually back. That it’s you two, again. That you’re not going anywhere, this time. That even if you did leave, Richie’s gotta know, with a certainty, you’d rather be here.

Richie smiles, and you think you’re right. While he’s shouting out Booth Twelve’s orders, Carmen hands a plate to expo. You tilt your head, curious. He slides a folded-up card, with it. You don’t recognize the plate at all from the menu.

“S’yours.” Is his simple answer, already getting to work on Booth Twelve. He’s scribbling down notes and quick sketches of what surprise dish to make for the Exec. On the front of the card, it says ‘won’t have time to do it myself’, alongside a smiley face, for levity.

You open the card, flitting vision between the dish, the note, and Carmen. Digesting the recipe he’s written for you and your eyes, only. He knew he wouldn’t have time to explain it verbally, so he wrote it down for you. You could throw up, honestly.

This is, the sweetest, most thoughtful, most complex thing, anyone has ever made for you.

You have done your damndest, to almost never be the one to instigate a kiss, not a real one, with Carmen, because he asked for distance, so you try to give it. But right now, more than anything, you’d like to assail this man to the floor right now with your affections.

But you can’t. Because he’s busy, and he needs this, not you. Carmen needs this to go well. He needs this guy to like the food, he needs the inspector to like the food, he needs a star. Fuck, even without the prospect of an inspector looming over him— He needs to prove the man in his head wrong. There is no time for any of the love you have to give.

…Did you just think love?

Gotta table this, for now…

“Thank you, Carmy.” His movements relax, when you say it. He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t slow down, he doesn’t pivot to you and confess some long-standing prose of love, but he nods, and his shoulders untense. That’s practically the same thing.

His phone, laying on the expo podium, rings. Sug. You furrow your brows. “Carmen.”

“Hm?” He’s tense, and still not himself, but he sounds so sweet, when he hums.

“Nat’s calling.”

“Let it go to voicemail.”

“She’d know you’re working, right now.”

“She’s got mom brain.”

“Mom brains’ aren’t dumb.” You frown, a touch worried. Always doting, aren’t you. “Could be an emergency.”

Carmen wants to say it’s not a big deal. That there’s bigger fish to fry. That if he fucks this dinner up, it could mean Nat won’t have a job to come back to. That with all the love in the world, he does not have time for this, right now. And then he thinks of his brother, and suddenly he has time for this, right now. He picks up his notepad and pen, he can work anywhere, it doesn’t need to be at his station. “Give me.”

He takes the phone, shouting to his crew, “Taking two minutes, Chefs!”

There’s a half-second of complaints before a resounding, “Heard!”

Carmy points to you, as he walks to his office, “Eat.”

“I will.” You nod, and lie.

You won’t be eating the most perfect, most complex, most personal, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever made for you.

You already made your decision, when you saw the plate. When you read the note. When you saw the frantic scribbles at Carmen’s station, loose pieces of paper everywhere, all crumpled. He can’t come up with shit for the man in his head. You already made your decision, when the four other plates showed up on expo for his table, and all that’s left is the surprise dish, for The Man.

You will not be eating the most perfect, most complex, most personal, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever made for you. The man out front, the man in Carmen’s head, will.

Carmen needs this.

Your heart just short of breaks, when you put it on the serving tray, handing it off to Richie. “What’s this one?” He asks, not knowing, not having paid attention. He would’ve refused, if he did.

Syd was, though. She looks like a puppy watching another puppy get kicked. You swallow the feeling down, ignoring her stare. You don’t need to reread the card, it’ll stick in your head, for the rest of your life.

“Lamb saddle, roasted, pink. Aigre-doux eggplant, means sour sweet sauce, with lamb confit, fresh spring garlic, Montmorency sauce— It’s a dark red cherry sauce, topped with cherries and baby basil.”

You wouldn’t know any of the French terms, if they weren’t defined for you in the margins. There’s a parenthetical, next to the lamb— Mentioning that it’s roasted, explaining why saddle is a superior cut of lamb, noting why it’s best served pink— Mentioning that it’s similar to pork. Your favourite. There’re exclamation points next to the cherry additions, because it’s your favourite Italian ice flavour. They need to be emphasized, in the recipe. There’s another parenthetical, next to baby basil, ‘(yours)’. It’s your basil, from your balcony to his, now to his kitchen, now to your plate.

In spades, this is the best gift anyone has ever made you, and you watch it leave, through the swinging door. You can’t stop your expression from twitching, falling into a frown. Your heart sits heavy in your throat. When Syd silently stands next to you, taking over for Richie on expo, she returns your tiny container of Tums. You take one, eyes distant, looking at the kitchen, Carmen’s kitchen, biting down on the antacid.

Cherry.

This isn’t sad. It’s just a plate. It’s literally just a plate. Carmen can make it again. Carmen can make it a million times over again. So why does it sting like this? Why does it carve its way into the pit of your stomach? That was yours. Carmen— Carmen’s plate was yours, and you had to give it up. You want nothing more than to rip the dish from the stupid fucking Exec’s greedy fucking hands, take it for yourself, eat it whole, in one bite— Decree that he can’t fuck with Carmen anymore, that he holds no ownership anymore, that he is not the be all end all, that he is not the gavel and the sound block.

But he is. It hurts, because he is. Carmen is still under him, and so, you, being by his side, are under him too. You know you made the right call, giving the plate up, but the meaning behind it all hurts insurmountably.

Syd takes your hand; the wrinkles of her band-aids are a nice texture to return to. You appreciate that she’s comforting you, but you can’t help but notice, “Uh, uhm, let’s fire table twenty-five, twenty-eight, and— And fuck, twelve, Chefs.” She’s not great at the whole expo thing. She’s fast as a cook, she’s slow as a speaker.

You take a look over the book on the table, and bump her aside with your hip.

“Chefs, I’m gonna need ‘ya to fire six fish all day— ‘kay?”

“Heard, Chef?” The crowd is confused but they’re not gonna stop you.

“Good, good.” You note the dead plate by you, “This asparagus is fuckin’ dead can I get hands on flashing it, please, Chefs?”

“Yes, Chef!”

Syd eyes you, on the sidelines, perplexed. You shrug, “You and Carmen are not the first people that tried to get this fuckin’ kitchen in order, check yourself.”

You didn’t do all the French bullshit, but some days at The Beef definitely ran better when they had a former Lead EMT barking at them— With love, though. Always with love. Syd just laughs, shaking her head. It’s a delight, to always be learning new things about you. How overarching your handful of talents are. You really are a Jack of All Trades.

You run things a little differently than a typical actual expo would. But sometimes, that’s kind of a good thing.

“Baby, where are we at with table twenty?!”

“T,” You say names, instead of Chef, more often than not, “If you yell at me like that, I will, what—?” Your call and responses, are a bit different. “Start crying, yes, thank you, Chef. Table twenty’s plated, we’re just waiting on placement from Syd, take your time but not too much, babe.”

“Heard!”

Levity, temperature, ease. It’s what you bring to the table, in everything you do. And sometimes, yeah, that’s not what you need. But right now, that’s everything this kitchen needs.

When Richie eventually comes back, handling front of house almost entirely by himself, he’s relieved to see you on expo, and the kitchen functioning, but he seems a little thrown. Off his rhythm.

You put a hand on his shoulder, as he stands next to you. “You good, Cousin?”

He sighs, he’s not good. “M’good, Chip.”

“Can I get an all-day on pasta, Chef?” Marcus’ voice doesn’t really occur to you, in the background, right now. You’re all about Richie.

“What happened?”

“It’s nothin…” He kisses his teeth, “S’just, man’s a real piece of work— N’ I can’t— Can’t give it back to him.”

“What’d he say?”

“Just, just kinda… Made fun ‘a—” Richie pauses, clearing his throat. “He made fun of my voice. To his fuckin’ friends. Called me unprofessional, said the suit’s prol— Probably a knock-off— Which, it is, but—”

“Chef, pasta?”

“One second, Marcus!” You call out, quick, not taking your eyes off Richie. You hate to hear him attempting to switch, all the syllables fit uncomfortably in his mouth. You frown. “He’s an asshole. Don’t listen to ‘em. You should bite back a little, I think.”

Richie hums, arms crossing, guarding himself. He sighs, finally voicing the worry. Son of a bitch, this guy’s in Richie’s head now, too. “…D’you take me serious, Cousin?”

You soften, while simultaneously growing so angry, at how quickly Richie’s become demoralized, “Richie— Cousin, of course I take you seriously.”

The moment is cut short, however, by a reasonably frustrated Marcus, at his limit. “Tony, all-day pasta, shit, c’mon!”

About a minute or two earlier, Carmen went into his office to take a call. He’s still jotting down notes, trying to come up with a recipe, not knowing the effort is meaningless now.

“Everything alright, Sug?”

“Hm? Yeah, everything’s good, I just wanted to call ‘stead of text ‘cause my hands are full of baby.” He told you so, not an emergency. “You guys busy?”

“Yeah, actually, s’maybe I’ll call you back, after?”

“Sure, sure, yeah, I just wanted to let you know I didn’t get Tony’s invoice.”

He pauses, no longer writing. “What’d’you mean you didn’t get her invoice?”

“She said you took care of it.”

“She told me you took care of it.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause, as Natalie thinks, trying to recount. “Well, maybe I’ve just got mom brain, but I swear she told me you covered it, thought I wrote it down…”

“Yeah, you did.” Carmen flits through the folder he was looking at yesterday, finding her sticky note. “You wrote down to ask me for her invoice.”

“Yeah, so I could get a copy for our records. Maybe I just got mixed up and left it somewhere— Just double check before you ask her for it again, I like her, Carmy, I don’t want her to think we’re unprofessional.”

“We are unprofessional.” And you like them anyways. He pops open the desk drawer, flitting through folders, most of them labeled ‘stuff’ ‘shit’ ‘bullshit’ ‘bullshit stuff’. Carmen loves his brother but sometimes he curses the fucking sky. There’s every chance Sug slipped your invoice into one of these by mistake.

“Yeah, but I don’t want her to know that.” Carmen can hear little baby Michaela murmuring on the other end of the phone. “Tell her to come see the baby, by the way.”

“I will. I’m plannin’ on it.” After dinner. Maybe when he opens up your painting and he forces you to tell him ad nauseum what you thought of the cherry and lamb dish. Your dish. That shit is never getting put on the menu, no. It’s a lot easier to think of plates when they’re for you, it’s fucking impossible to come up with a dish for his old Head Chef— He really needs to get back out there, actually, he’s out of thinking time, he just has to throw shit at the wall.

But then he sees a folder he’d never paid attention to, before. ‘ICE Chip’s’. Another one of Mikey’s extremely confusingly titles. Carmen always figured it’d been a weird way of naming a folder meant for bulk orders of ice for drinks or for the walk in— But now, Carmen knows better, Carmen knows you. No harm in looking, right? He’ll take a quick peak, see it’s actually for ice, and then he’ll go back out there, rip his hair out, and put it on a plate for the fucking man out front that talked to him during his entire morning routine, today.

Except there’s not invoices for ice, in this folder.

“I’ve been reading her Frog and Toad, almost every night, by the way, Mickey loves it.”

No, it’s you, in this folder. Carmen wants to throw up. He’s being dramatic, he needs to relax, the blood in his veins is freezing and boiling at the same time.

And maybe if Carmen's day had started off a bit better, if he was acting like himself today, and not the man in his head, in his restaurant— Maybe he'd be a little more reasonable, right now. Maybe if he ate family earlier, instead of skipping it to re-tape all the containers in the walk-in, he'd feel a little more forgiving. If he wasn't so tired, if he wasn't so hungry, if he wasn't shaking off a minute cold he got from walking to your house past midnight, a few days ago, he'd be a bit less inclined to spiral.

But there’s a handful of film photos with the two of you— Just the two of you— Richie’s in one or two, but it’s mostly just you and Michael. His arm, over your shoulder, in again, most of them. Mikey looks non-plussed in half of them. You’re always holding some sort of cupcake or cake, in all of them, and there’s always a numbered candle, being blown out. There’re a couple different times there’s a One candle, a few Twos, only one Three.

You knew Mikey for two to three years, didn’t you? Anniversary photos?

Carmen is going to fucking throw up. Why are there multiple ones? One week-iversary? One month-iversary? He has never imagined his brother to be some fucking sap sentimentalist, and it’s making his skin crawl. You dated his fucking brother? He is just a fucking gap filler, he is.

There has got to be another reasonable explanation, for this. You wouldn’t do this to him— Someone would’ve said something to him— Richie would’ve at the very least made some sort of stupid fucking derogatory comment about him getting sloppy seconds— There is no fucking way you dated his fucking brother—

‘I’m with you Bear!!’

‘Just one more, Mikey’

‘love you’

Sticky notes. Your handwriting. There are sticky notes with your handwriting in this forsaken fucking folder. Telling Mikey you love him, and to keep going— You called him Bear. That makes sense, everyone calls all three of the kids Bear— But that was— You— He needs to throw up. It cannot stay in his throat; he cannot let this stay in his throat— ‘We go under together’ — And yet he cannot stop reading them. ‘Same team.’

Same team. You’re on the same team. With his brother. Isn’t that fucking sweet. Isn’t that just adorable. Isn’t the fucking photo booth strip of you two, clearly taken after seeing a movie, fucking precious?

The last thing in this folder is the nail in the coffin, the knife in the hand. Paperwork. Not an invoice, no. Not the fucking thing he was looking for. No. An old agreement form.

A joint bank account. Wells Fargo. Signed by both of you. Photo IDs photocopied, side by side on a black and white piece of paper, stapled onto the end. This feels more intimate than any piece of paperwork that has ever existed. Even a fucking marriage certificate can’t hold a candle to this. You had a joint bank account with a fucking two-bit junkie—

You fucking trusted him with your credit score— You loved Mikey enough to ruin your life— You wanted to go under together. That’s what you fucking wrote, isn’t it?

Every fear Carmen ever had is more than affirmed. He is here to fill a void, he’s here because his brother isn’t. He is nothing but a series of stories his brother has told you, to you. Nothing but another Berzatto man that you desperately try to rehabilitate and fix and inevitably fail with, because they’re all fucking hopeless, before moving onto the next.

He doesn’t even need to kill himself, this time, no— You’ll realize he’s a lost fucking cause when you realize he’s nothing like his brother, when you find out he’s sharp and rendered, that even if he was a good person, he’s still him, and that’s a rot that not even you can fix— You’ll leave him unfinished like all the projects in the corners of your apartment. Because that’s what he is, to you, a project, something to fix. He’s like all your other jobs. He’s a job. Just another distressed restauranteur. Nothing but a fucking replaceable part, that you’ve got ten more spares for in your car.

Carmen doesn’t need to be fixed— He’s perfectly fine the way he is— He was fucking great before you showed up, actually— No, he wasn’t happy, but he was talented, and he wasn’t so brain-dead that he’d fuck up a basic meal thinking of you, he wasn’t so stupid that he’d speak out of turn and call you pretty, he wouldn’t have gotten a cold walking to your house in the winter, he would’ve just taken a hot shower until it hurt, without you— Carmen was— is— A Two Michelin Star chef, he’s fucking great without his brother— He runs The Bear without him just fine, he did everything without his fucking brother just fine, it didn’t hurt when Mikey stopped picking up the phone, Carmen doesn’t need his fucking brother, so he certainly doesn’t need you.

“Carmen?” His sister is still on the phone. Waiting for him to respond. Waiting for him to entertain the idea of being a good uncle. He doesn’t need his sister, either. He hangs up without as much as a simple ‘bye’.

He hears Marcus, yelling for an all-day, yelling Tony. Even still Carmen’s expecting Richie’s voice to reply, but instead, it’s yours that reverberates in past the office door.

“Aye, Marcus! We’ve got three alfredo, two cannoli, one gnocchi, okay, sweets? Same team, right?”

“Same team, Chef.”

Oh, so it’s a fucking Beef thing, too? That’s so fucking cute. It’s so cute, how you’re everywhere, in everything. It’s so goddamn tender how he finds you carved into tables, finds you in filing cabinets, finds you under his booths, finds you in his walk-in, finds you in his shower caddy each morning, finds you on his balcony in a plant pot, finds you in his fridge in a spray bottle, finds you with Syd, finds you with Richie, finds you with Tina, Marcus, Jimmy, Mikey.

So cute. So fucking cute, that he’s gonna see you out there, running his kitchen, fixing everything you deem wrong with him.

Carmen Berzatto doesn't need anyone to ruin his own life except for him. He'll prove it.

i know i know i know i know--

I said it wouldn't be that much of a cliffhanger but when i got through writing the last fourth of this chapter i was having a lot of trouble because pace wise it just really really needed to be a separate part-- and this way, i get to do a fun format style change that i planned but thought i wouldn't get to do TURNS OUT I DO GET TO!! yeehaw

so much happened this chapter, like while writing it, when i'd go back to edit, i was like oh my god that was this chapter?? jesus christ. I was really waiting for y'alls reaction to this one, so please do harang me wherever you feel comfortable ranting to, i love to see it.

But yeah, really fuckin brutal, eh? And a lot of half lore dumps! You think they dated? You think it's something else? The RichiexTony and SydxTony crowds are eating fucking good tonight, also. Love those cuties and their friendships.

We've got a taglist now, I'm bad at keeping track of it, but remember if u wanna be added to this silly little thing you need to hand in an essay (more like a cute lil paragraph) tellin' me what you thought! And also ask. Duh. BUT YA GOTTA DO BOTH!~

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Ten

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour in a public setting, use of toys. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.6k

A/N : I'm sorry these keep ending up so long. Anyway, enjoy some smutty cuteness...

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE

MASTER LIST

Chapter Ten

The second your eyes opened, you regretted it. 

Light streamed in through the windows and your head hurt - though you couldn’t tell if it was because of all the champagne you’d drunk the night before, or because you’d sobbed yourself to sleep. One look in the mirror had you grimacing. Even though you’d tried to remove your make-up before bed, you’d still ended up with dark mascara circles under your eyes.

As much as you wanted to crawl back into bed, you needed to wash your face properly, get something to drink, and see if you had any painkillers left to help with your pounding headache. A quick glance at your watch told you that it was almost noon.

Half-asleep, you pulled open your bedroom door, only to almost jump out of your skin at the sight of Billy, sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, knees pulled to his chest and his head resting on his arms.

“Billy?” 

He looked up and your heart threatened to stop; his face was bruised and his lip was split and, though his injuries already looked like they were healing, you started to panic.

Before he could say a word, you were on your knees in front of him, cradling his face in your hands, looking over his wounds, while he tried not to make eye contact.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered softly, voice thick with exhaustion, “I didn’t want to hurt you. I never should’ve -” 

“Billy,” you spoke just as softly, “you didn’t hurt me.”

“I shouldn’t’ve started this. I never wanted to put you in danger.”

You shook your head. “Where is this coming from? You haven’t put me in danger.”

“I’m dangerous. Just being around me is dangerous.”

“No,” you told him firmly, still holding his face, forcing him to look at you. “I’m safe with you, Billy.”

“No, I -”

“Is that what your friend told you? That you’re dangerous? Because you’re not. You showed me last night that you’re not,” you continued. His eyes closed and he shook his head. Your heart ached at how broken and defeated he looked. “Please don’t push me away. They’re wrong about you. I know they are.”

Without any sort of hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight, pressing your face to his chest, trying to fight back tears.

“I heard you crying,” he said, sounding devastated, as if that one piece of information proved his point. It didn’t.

“Not because of you, Billy.”

“Then why?”

“Because I didn’t want last night to end. I wanted to stay with you, and they ruined it.”

Finally his arms moved, wrapping around you and pulling you closer. You let out a shuddered breath, a tired sigh of relief, glad that he finally seemed to believe you. He moved himself as he pulled you towards him until you were on his lap with your face pressed against his neck, enjoying the feel of his cold skin against you.

“I thought that...” He started but trailed off just as quickly.

He didn’t need to say it; you had a pretty good idea of what Billy thought and why. But it was wrong, and you weren’t going to let him hold onto that thought any longer.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you told him again, prepared to tell him as many times as you needed to in order to make him see sense. “Everything that happened last night happened because I wanted it to.”

Billy nodded but stayed quiet, his arms tightening around you. Minutes ticked by and you were content to stay like that, to hold and be held, to let him know that you were there and that there was nowhere else you’d rather be. 

After a while, he seemed to settle and relax, his hand softly rubbing your back, giving you comfort that you hadn’t realised you desperately needed. But there were things beyond comfort that you also needed; answers to questions you never wanted to ask but now couldn’t avoid.

“Last night,” you started quietly, “you said he fucked up your life... what happened?”

His chest shuddered and rose as he took a breath, but you kept your face against his neck, wanting to give him some sense of space without you looking at him.

“Frank’s the one who turned me,” Billy told you. “He’s the one who made me a vampire.”

The revelation had your blood running cold in your veins; his business partner, his friend, was the one who’d turned Billy into something he hated. You had a thousand different questions all at once but had no idea where to start. Fortunately, Billy didn’t wait for you to figure it out.

“We served together and, one day, we were selected for a special task force,” he sighed, his voice turning almost mechanical, like he was recounting the story on auto-pilot. “Things got fucked up and weird; we were seeing things that shouldn’t have existed, that didn’t seem real. I couldn’t handle it, I didn’t want to stay, so I got a transfer back to Force, but Frankie stayed.”

There was a pause, letting you absorb everything he’d told you, letting you make sense of the timeline. You already knew that he’d been turned a year or so before vampires were revealed to the public - was he saying that the military had known about them longer?

“After I left, they started... experimenting. Frank got turned but he managed to escape, he managed to get back to New York. They sent a team after him. My team. They were going to kill Frank and his family.” He paused again, seeming like he really didn’t want to continue, but he did regardless. “When I realised what was happening, I tried to save him and got shot in the back by one of my own men.”

You gripped him tighter, worry consuming you, even though you knew that Billy was alright.

“I would’ve died if he hadn’t turned me, but - but sometimes I wish I had. Sometimes I wish he’d just let me bleed out so I didn’t have to live like this,” he continued, his voice flat, betraying no emotion. “We had to hide out for a while but once vampires became public knowledge, we threatened to go public with everything we knew and they paid us off - that’s how I was able to start Anvil.”

Taking a deep breath, you pressed yourself closer to him, your mind racing. You didn’t say anything, you just kept hold of him, feeling completely useless for not knowing exactly the right thing to say.

The silence stretched on until it became unbearable.

“Please say something,” he prompted, his voice cracking and threatening to break.

“I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to upset you.”

“Why would you upset me?” He asked.

Finally you forced yourself to look at him again. You tried desperately to keep yourself from frowning as you searched his face for some idea of what he was feeling.

“Because I want to say that I’m glad Frank turned you,” you told him and immediately felt him tense. “I’m glad you’re alive and that you’re like this because, otherwise, I never would’ve gotten to meet you.”

You weren’t sure if the look he gave was one of pain or sorrow, but it broke your heart either way.

“I’m sorry,” you continued, “I know it makes me awful and selfish, but I don’t want to think about a world where we didn’t meet and I didn’t feel this way...”

“You’re not selfish,” he told you, pressing his cold hand to your cheek. “I’m glad we met too.”

Words failed and the distance between you seemed to shrink, though you had no idea if it was you or Billy moving. Your lips met and you both sank into a sweet and tender kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips as he held you tight. The kiss helped settle your nerves and caused you to hope that Billy now understood what you were feeling.

When you finally pulled back, you looked at him, your fingers brushing over his bruised cheek.

“Did he do this?” 

“Yeah.”

“But why?” You asked. Why would his friend hurt him like that?

“Because he knows about my problem and, because he turned me, he’ll blame himself if I hurt you.”

You shook your head, not wanting to go over everything again, so you let it go, instead opting to get a good look at him. Aside from the bruising (that seemed to have healed even more in the time that you’d been talking), his jacket and shirt had both been torn at the shoulder and on the collar, there were blood splatters on the white shirt, and his hair was sticking up in every direction. But, more than anything, he just looked so tired.

“Do you want to lay down? We could -”

“No,” he interrupted sharply, almost causing you to jump. He took a breath and shook his head. “You can’t invite me into your room, okay?”

“But -”

“Please, hummingbird,” he begged. “It’s the only room in the penthouse that I can’t enter. It’s the only place you’ll be safe if anything happens.”

Part of you wanted to argue, to tell him again that you were safe with him, that he hadn’t hurt you and you didn’t think he ever would, but you recognised that this was one of those situations where Billy needed reassurance. He needed to know that you had a safe place, somewhere you could escape to.

“Okay,” you relented. “But you still need rest. You look exhausted.”

“So do you.”

“I need to go wash this mascara off my face and eat some breakfast,” you told him, smiling softly, not wanting him to worry about you any more than he already had.

You started to move, getting off his lap and to your feet before offering him your hand. After helping him to his feet, you found yourself struck by just how deep your feelings had started to run. You should have been ushering him off to bed, but you were desperate for just one more minute with him. And, Billy seemed equally reluctant to leave you.

“I -” he started but quickly second guessed himself.

“What?”

“Well, since the cat’s out of the bag, I -” he hesitated for a beat “- I don’t want to sneak around and hide this anymore. I want to take you out to dinner. Tonight.”

The corners of your lips started to tug upwards and before you knew it, you were grinning at him.

“Mr Russo,” you said, forcing a dramatic tone, “are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yes, little hummingbird, I am.”

“I suppose I could go to dinner with you, if I can find something to wear,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Is that your way of asking me for a new dress? Because I definitely wouldn’t say no to another handjob in the fitting rooms.” He retorted, grinning just as widely as you were, as if you’d finally managed to help lift some of the weight from his shoulders.

Laughing, you pressed your face to his chest again, telling yourself just one more minute again and again. 

“You could take me out for dinner every night for the rest of the year and I’d probably still not get through half of the outfits in my wardrobe. I’m sure there’s something suitable in there,” you conceded. 

“Be ready by sunset. I’ll book us a table somewhere nice,” he told you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before pulling away from you.

“Don’t you have work tonight?”

“After last night, I don’t think Frank is going to want me around the office for a while,” he shrugged, heading for the door leading back out to the penthouse before you could think to question him further. “Get some rest and I’ll see you at sunset.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone with the swarm of butterflies that had taken flight in your stomach. You couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop thinking about him and how things were going to change between you now that you weren’t hiding.

After eating, you took the world's longest and hottest shower, finally managing to get the last traces of mascara from your face. Then it was straight to the wardrobe to find something suitable to wear for dinner.

When you finally saw him again, he looked much better; rested, with only the faintest traces of bruising left beneath his eye. He stopped in his tracks, taking in the sight of you and the dark blue corset style dress you’d picked, while you admired the dark grey suit he’d opted to wear. Your cheeks warmed as his gaze lingered on your legs even as you stepped towards him to hand him his glass of blood.

“I see you found something to wear,” he remarked, fingers brushing yours as he took the glass. 

A moment later he started making his way towards the sofa, explaining that you had some time before you had to leave for the restaurant. You followed after, finally letting your gaze drift around the penthouse, noticing what an amazing job the cleaners had done. If you hadn’t been there, you never would have guessed that there had been almost two hundred people there the night before. 

It wasn’t until you sat that you noticed something on the coffee table; the necklace he had given you. He must have found it after everyone had left the party. Without thinking you reached for it, inspecting it, hoping it hadn’t been damaged.

“I’m sorry I didn’t explain what that meant,” Billy sighed. “It was shitty of me to put it on your neck without telling you. It wasn’t fair of me to claim you without asking first...”

“No, it wasn’t,” you told him with a sigh of your own. “You should’ve told me. I-I still would’ve worn it.”

“Really?” He asked, and you nodded. He hesitated for a beat before; “then would you wear it tonight?”

Your breath caught and, for a split-second it looked as if he was about to take the question back. Knowing what you knew about the necklace, about its meaning, the answer should have been obvious; you weren’t his and you didn’t want to belong to anyone.

Only, you weren’t sure that was entirely true.

“I think that depends on you,” you finally answered.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want me to belong to you?” The question left him looking more than a little confused. “I meant what I said last night; I like you, Billy. I don’t know what that means in the long run, but I’d like for it to mean something now.”

“And you’d be happy with that?” He asked after a moment of hesitation. “You’d be happy being mine?”

“Would you be happy being mine?”

You didn’t expect the reaction to be so visceral, for Billy to tense and almost curl in on himself. You’d hit a nerve but you didn’t know how. His knuckles turned white around the glass and his eyes fixed on the windows.

Suddenly you felt sick. You felt stupid. There you were offering yourself up to someone who had no intention of ever doing the same. He’d told you from the start that it would be like this, that he would never give you more than he already had. And you’d just ruined it because you were selfish, because you were greedy, because you wanted more than anything to possess him and be able to say that he was yours.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, getting to your feet and heading for the kitchen, getting a glass of water as an excuse to put some space between you.

Your heart anxiously pounded in your chest and, even when you had a drink, you didn’t turn back. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, to see the damage you’d done by wanting too much.

You took deep breath after deep breath, trying to ignore the way your cheeks were burning and your stomach was knotting. 

(Of course he didn’t want to be yours. Who would?)

“No one’s ever wanted me to be theirs before.” His voice cut through the silence and, when you finally turned, you realised he was standing a couple of feet behind you. “My own mother gave me up hours after I was born. Foster families always sent me back to the group home. The only person who’s ever stuck around is Frank...”

Oh. The realisation was painful.

“So, it’s not that I don’t want to be yours,” he continued, dropping his gaze, “it’s just...”

“I’ll leave you,” you finished the thought for him. A moment later, you were shaking your head. “You’re right, it was a stupid thing to say. I’m sorry.”

When your gaze dropped, you realised that the necklace was clutched in his hand. After taking a slow breath, you closed the distance between you and reached it and smiled.

“Will you put it on for me?” You asked.

For a moment, all he could do was stare at you, confused by the request. You were a little confused yourself, not because you were second guessing it, but because the urge to belong to him, to have him claim you, had come on so quickly.

“Are you sure?”

“I want to feel like I belong somewhere, even if it’s only temporary,” you tried to explain.

Before Billy could say another word, you turned, lifting your hair out of the way so he could put the necklace around your neck. The feel of cold metal against your skin and the weight of the choker around your neck had you letting out a gentle sigh; he might not have been able to want you in the same way, but you could at least be happy that he wanted you.

Turning, you leaned to press a gentle kiss to his cheek before excusing yourself, telling him you needed to grab something from your room before you left.

It took about thirty minutes to get to the restaurant  and, when you arrived, you were rendered speechless by the opulence. Billy was clearly well known and the staff couldn’t do enough for him, taking your coats before leading you to a secluded table by the window with views of the Hudson. You were too distracted by the view to pay much attention to the conversation going on between Billy and the maître d' - it was something about a rare wine they’d been saving.

Once you were seated, you realised that there were no menus. Billy explained that they used a set menu and, honestly, you felt a little relieved that you wouldn’t have to try and choose for yourself when there was so much to distract you.

Within minutes you each had a drink; a deep, sweet red wine that you were told would pair excellently with the night's menu. Then came your entree. 

You frowned, comparing yours to Billy’s, wondering why they looked different.

“It’s blood,” Billy explained, noticing your confusion. “They cater to vampires and humans here.”

“Oh,” you remarked, not sure why the thought left you feeling uncomfortable.

“Does it bother you?” He asked. “Me having someone else’s blood in front of you?”

Yes, you wanted to say, but you knew you didn’t have the right. He wasn’t yours.

“No. I guess I always knew that you had other blood. It’s just -” you let out a huff, frustrated that you couldn’t find the words to explain it.

All the things he could taste when he drank your blood, now he was sitting across from you tasting those things in someone else. It felt almost like a betrayal, even though you knew that wasn’t what it was.

“It doesn’t compare to your blood. It doesn’t even come close,” Billy told you, and that settled you a little.

Taking a breath, your attention turned to your own food, knowing you couldn’t begrudge a vampire his blood. You wanted him to eat and enjoy the evening.

About twenty minutes in, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom and were annoyed to find a familiar face waiting for you as you washed your hands.

“Having a nice evening?” Madani asked with none of her usual concern.

“Very nice, thank you,” you answered pointedly. “What do you want?”

“I want you to realise how much danger you’re in.”

“I’m not in danger. Billy hasn’t hurt anyone. If you want to keep me safe, you should go find Krista, she’s the only one who’s tried to bite me,” you snapped, patience quickly running out.

“You’ve seen Krista Dumont?” Madani asked, surprised. You nodded. “When?”

“Last night. She crashed Billy’s party and tried to bite me.”

“She’s a vampire?”

“Yes, and before you ask, no it wasn’t Billy.” You finished drying your hands and stepped past her towards the door. “Please just leave me alone.”

Returning to the table, you decided not to mention anything to Billy, hoping it was the last you’d see of Madani. Now that she knew Krista was alive, surely she’d leave Billy alone.

You continued to eat and made small talk, keeping the conversation light, both avoiding the more serious topics you’d already covered at the penthouse. And, when the main course was put out in front of you, you decided to do something to make things a little more entertaining for the both of you.

“Do you have your phone?” You asked him, gaze shyly dropping to the table.

“Of course, why?”

“I figured we could have some fun again.”

He looked at you blankly for a few seconds, not understanding what you were trying to suggest. You bit your lip as your cheeks warmed and, finally, the penny dropped.

“You mean...?” he asked, lips pulling into a grin.

“Last night we couldn’t see each other, so I thought...” you tried to explain.

Billy didn’t have to say anything, you knew he could hear your racing heart. You were close enough that you could see his eyes get darker as his pupils dilated, and you heard the hitch in his breath. You held his gaze, barely breathing as he pulled his phone from his jacket and placed it on the table, watching as he unlocked it and opened the app that controlled the toy.

But, then, he hesitated.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, running your teeth over your lower lip again, struggling to find the words.

“Last night was... fun. I liked knowing you were thinking about me as much as I was thinking about you. When I know you’re thinking about me I...” your words caught on the lump in your throat.

“You can tell me,” he prompted quietly.

“You make me feel brave. When I’m with you, when you look at me like that, I feel like I could do anything.” you admitted. 

There was so much more you wanted to say, so many things you wanted to tell him but, after your conversation back at the penthouse, it didn’t seem fair. He wasn’t yours, he never would be. And you would only temporarily be his.

You sat a little straighter when the vibrations started, thighs clenching together beneath the table. Sucking your lower lip, you forced yourself to look him in the eye and let him see what he was doing to you.

“Fuck,” he muttered, “you were right; it’s a lot more fun when I can see your face.”

His free hand reached across the table to hold yours while the other swiped at his phone, changing the intensity of the vibrations. Your fingers tensed against his and Billy smiled.

“How is everything this evening?” The waiter asked, stopping by to refill your glasses, oblivious to what was going on.

“It’s amazing,” you answered, barely tearing your eyes from Billy, who struggled to hold back a laugh.

The waiter said something about dessert and left you to finish your main course.

Billy continued making small talk as you ate, occasionally and very brazenly reaching for his phone mid-conversation to start or stop the toy, spending the rest of the night toying with you and trying to drive you crazy. A couple of times you came close to climax, but he knew you well enough to know just how to deny you. 

By the time you had to walk back to the car, your legs were trembling and you had to loop your arm through Billy’s for support.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

“No, thank you, hummingbird.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek as you walked across the parking lot. “After last night, I didn’t think -”

“Let’s not talk about last night,” you decided. “Tonight has been perfect and I don’t want anything to ruin it.”

He stopped to open the passenger side door for you but, before you could get in, Billy kissed you. Time seemed to stop and you were more than happy to let it, not even stopping to let yourself think about how this was the first time he’d kissed out in the open where anyone might see. The tiniest of moans slipped from you and you immediately felt Billy’s lips pull into a smile against yours.

“What?” You asked, letting out a nervous laugh.

“I don’t know, you’re just so -” Billy gave a laugh of his own, “- cute.”

“You think I’m cute?” Your cheeks started to warm, not sure if it was meant as a compliment or not.

“Yeah,” he answered, cupping your cheek and running his thumb across your lips. “You’re cute and innocent and sweet. And I love that about you.”

Before you could respond he was kissing you softly and opening the car door for you. And, for a moment, you were willing to forget about anything but his lips on yours.

“Come on, it’s getting late,” he finally ushered you into the car and, less than a minute later, you were on your way back home.

For most of the drive home, you were quiet, eyes fixed on the world beyond the car window, taking in the sights of the city late at night. It seemed to you like New York really was the city that never slept. From time to time, you glanced at Billy, smiling when his gaze caught yours.

There was a feeling of dread in your chest when he finally pulled into his space in the underground parking lot and killed the engine. When he moved to get out of the car, you found yourself reaching for him. 

Billy looked at you, puzzled.

“I don’t want tonight to be over yet,” you told him.

He nodded as if he felt exactly the same way before leaning in to kiss you softly. His hand cupped your cheek but, soon enough, it was drifting down to your neck and, then, as the kiss continued, it started to sink lower. It came to rest over your racing heart, his fingers tenderly squeezing your breast through your dress.

You shifted closer, fingers tangling in his hair, turning the kiss a little more desperate. Your other hand slipped down the front of his shirt to his belt and clumsily started to undo it. As you fumbled, Billy helped, pulling open his belt before helping you with the button and zipper of his pants.

A moan slipped from his lips the second you reached in to pull his cock out, the kiss momentarily faltering when you started to stroke him. You moaned in return when you felt him grow hard in your grasp. You pulled back from the kiss to look at him, taking in the look of lust on his face before your gaze dropped to your hand as it wrung around his shaft. 

The glistening tip had you licking your lips, pulling your legs up onto your seat so you could lean over the centre console. Billy started to say something but quickly fell silent as your lips wrapped around the swollen tip of his cock, your tongue lapping up the pre-cum that had accumulated there in a way that betrayed that this was something you’d done before.

Billy swore, groaning your name as you slowly started to take him into your mouth, continuing to stroke him as you did. It wasn’t long before you felt his fingers tangling in your hair. Your lips sank lower and lower, taking more of him. Your movements slow, deliberate. In a way, you were showing off - this was something you knew how to do well.

“Fuck, little hummingbird,” he groaned when you lips reached far enough to meet your hand at the base of his cock.

You would have smiled if your mouth hadn’t been full. When you pulled back a little, you managed to look up at him through your eyelashes, the tip of his cock still in your mouth, just in time to see Billy reaching for his phone.

Fuck. Your whole body tensed as the toy started to vibrate and, for a second, you froze.

“Don’t stop,” it sounded like a breathless command and you had every intention of following it, quickly returning to what you’d been doing.

Billy didn’t mess around, didn’t waste time, he cranked the vibrations up to the highest setting and turned things into a race against time.

His moans got louder the more of him you took and you could feel him throbbing. You drew your cheeks in and sucked, letting you little moans of your own. Every time you sank down, you felt his hand gently pressing against the back of your head urging you to take even more. Your eyes started to water a little when he hit the back of your throat but you refused to stop. You pulled back and took a breath before sinking down the length of him again, relaxing yourself as he slid into your throat.

“That’s it,” he gasped, “your mouth feels so fucking good...”

Your cheeks felt like they were burning with the things that Billy was saying and the way he was moaning as you dragged your lips up and down his shaft, but there was something empowering about it too. You liked knowing that you could make him tremble. Your free hand moved to your neck, fingers brushing against the necklace, wanting nothing more than to belong to him in that moment, to be nothing but his.

You started to moan even louder, too overwhelmed to even think about holding back, trembling and tensing as you started to come.

“Fuck... I’m gonna come,” he warned. Pulling his hand from your hair so you could pull back if you wanted.

But you didn’t want to pull back, instead you doubled down, tracing the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft with your tongue.

Billy swore and gave you one last grunt of warning before he started to pulse in your mouth and you felt him spill onto your tongue. You closed your eyes tight and swallowed everything, revelling in his desperate groans.

Once you were done, you pulled away slowly, letting him fall from your lips. Your cheeks burned as you turned away to wipe any traces of cum from around your mouth, not looking back again until his hand found yours.

“You okay? He asked softly. All you could do was nod. His hand cupped your cheek and you found that you could barely meet his gaze. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. You wanted to do that, right?”

“Yeah, I -” you started to answer but quickly trailing off, hating that you didn’t have the words to describe what you wanted.

Your whole face felt hot, trapped between how you felt and how you thought you were supposed to feel. Despite all the time you’d spent with him, the things you’d done since leaving home, the shame was hard to shake.

“It’s silly,” you shrugged. “I’ve never enjoyed doing that before. I was always told women weren’t supposed to enjoy it, but with you...”

The press of his hand on your cheek became a little firmer, ensuring that your eyes stayed on him.

“That’s bullshit. You’re allowed to enjoy it - you’re allowed to enjoy everything we do together. We’re equals in this. If there’s something you don’t like then you don’t have to do it,” he told you.

Before you could answer, he was leaning towards you, making a point of kissing you deeply - something no other guy had ever done after finishing in your mouth - and leaving you with no doubts.

You didn’t speak again until he pulled back and you caught him looking at you with an expression that fell somewhere between questioning and sympathetic. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, “I just think I’m starting to understand you a little better.” You didn’t respond, you just gave him a questioning look until he continued. “No one had gone down on you before, but you’ve obviously given a blowjob before... that says a lot about the guys you’ve been with.”

Again, you didn’t respond - you didn’t know what you were supposed to say to something like that.

“Now, come on, it really is getting late,” he said a moment later.

You both got out of the car and it wasn’t long before Billy’s hand found yours, keeping hold of you until you arrived back in the penthouse, and only letting go because his phone was ringing.

He gave you a look before letting out a sigh, and you took that as your cue to head to bed. Pressing your lips to his cheek, you held him tight for a few seconds, before starting towards your rooms, closing the door just as Billy angrily answered his phone.

“What, Frank?”

End Note : Again, I got carried away with the cuteness and this ended up really long 😅 The next chapter is also going to be pretty long too and, as a heads up next chapter is going to be particularly smutty, but it's also going to contain some potentially triggering stuff, so please make sure you read the warning on next weeks chapter!!

As always, thanks so much for reading/liking/commenting/reblogging I really love how much you all seem to be genuinely enjoying this fic! Have a great weekend!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock

@snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad

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@ashy-kit

[hugz4hoon]

stargazing (pt.2) - s.j.y.

read part one here!

summary — you finally come to the conclusion that you need to get over your one sided feelings.

pairing — best friend!jake x fem!reader

genre — fluff and angst

wc — 2.3k

a/n — she's here! it ended up taking longer than i thought because i absolutely hated my first draft LOL so i completely scratched it and restarted it with a new plot hehe but i really hope u guys like this one!!!

It’s been two weeks since you last spoke with Jake. The last time you saw him was when he left you, heartbroken on your rooftop. Since then, Jake has regretted not telling you how he feels that night. The only reason he hasn’t called or texted you is because he’s embarrassed about how he acted, and he doesn’t know what to say to you. Meanwhile, you’ve been forcing yourself to get over him by distracting yourself everyday. It’s obvious he’s been avoiding you; it’s definitely time to move on.

You were at the mall with your friends when you saw Jake walking in your direction. It was a bit nerve wracking—you haven’t seen him for two weeks, and suddenly, you didn’t know how to act around him anymore. But, that didn’t seem to be a problem, because when you made eye contact with him, his eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost. The second Jake saw you, he immediately turned to walk in the opposite direction. And that’s when you saw who he was with… a girl that you’ve never seen before? You watched their backs as they left your eyeline.

Your heart ached with a newfound heaviness. You felt as if your whole world was crumbling down. Who was that? Does he hate me so much that he can’t even look at me? Did he really find a new best friend in the span of two weeks? Or even, a girlfriend? Your mind was going haywire, and your distress definitely showed on your face.

One of your friend’s voices snapped you out of your daze.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just feeling a little tired right now. I think I should head home,” you half heartedly smiled at them. You had to get out of there. If you stayed in the busy environment for any longer, you’re sure you would’ve passed out. Shrugging off your friends’ demands and questions asking whether you wanted company, you called a taxi and headed home.

--

As soon as you got home, you took a hot shower to collect your thoughts. You didn’t want to be heartbroken over Jake because that would ruin all the progress you’ve made in getting over him. Instead, you decided to take a nap to try to sleep it off.

When you woke up, it was 6pm; you ended up sleeping for around three hours. You wake up to the vibrations erupting from your phone. Before you could see who was calling, the call ended. That’s when you saw the many missed calls adorning your notification center. There are over a dozen missed calls from… Jake? You keep scrolling to find Jake’s text messages to you from two hours ago.

jakey <3: can we talk

jakey <3: i shouldn’t have walked away from u

jakey <3: i miss u

Now you're pissed. Saying he misses you right after ignoring you for two weeks, and walking away from you without so much as a quick hello at the mall, is confusing as hell. Not only is it confusing, but it’s also rage inducing. With anger clouding your mind, you sharply respond to his messages instead of calling him back.

y/n: that’s so stupid

y/n: you say all that but your actions say otherwise

He calls you immediately the second you text him back, but you cannot be bothered to pick up.

[missed call from “jakey <3”]

jakey <3: pick up ur phone y/n

y/n: no. i don’t wanna hear it jake

y/n: i’m done

jakey <3: done? what do u mean by that

jakey <3: y/n please just call me we need to talk

jakey <3: y/n

At this point, you’re so annoyed with him that everything he says pisses you off. You stop responding when you start to feel as if steam is blowing out of your ears, before your head pops off due to built up pressure. As you start to distract yourself by doom scrolling through social media, you get another notification from Jake.

jakey <3: open ur door

Sure enough, he’s at your house now. You ignore the message and continue scrolling, hoping that after a couple of minutes, he’ll leave. About five minutes pass by, when you hear a tap on your window. You jump at the noise, and your gaze immediately turns to where the sound came from. There on the tree branch sits Jake, in all his boyish charm, as he sports that damn quirky and apologetic smile again. Unfortunately for him, this is the first time it doesn’t work in his favour. Honestly, you still don’t want to let him in, but it’s a particularly windy day, and despite your anger, you don’t want him to hurt himself.

With a stern expression plastered on your face, you unlock the window and turn right back to your bed. He watches with sorrowful eyes as you sit on your bed, realizing in his haste to see you, he forgot to prepare an apology.

He hesitantly pulls open the window and enters your room. After closing the window, he awkwardly stands there as he thinks of how to approach the situation. You, on the other hand, are staring daggers into his eyes.

“So, are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?” Jake flinches at the clear irritation in your tone. This is the first time you’ve ever been mad at him, and he doesn’t know how to handle it. He hates it. He hates that he’s the reason behind your disdain. All he wants is to see your beautiful smile again.

He shuffles his feet clumsily as he searches for the right words. “I’m here to atone.” He announces with an uncertain voice. Hm, maybe that wasn’t the way to start off, he thinks as he sees your face change into an expression of disconcert.

Your jaw falls open at his statement. What kind of stupid opening is that? “Jake, if you're not going to be serious, I don’t want to hear it,” you firmly state, while getting up to leave your room.

“No, wait, let me finish!” he spews out before you can leave, which gets you to stop in your tracks. “Sorry, I know that wasn’t the best thing to say, but it’s because I don’t know how to address this,” he mumbles.

“Why? I don’t understand, Jake. We used to be able to talk about anything. You used to tell me everything, what happened? I feel like I’m going insane right now.” Your eyes start to water from the vulnerability you’re showing him.

Jake’s eyes soften after hearing your words. He never meant to make you feel this way, in fact, this is the opposite of what he wanted. The reason he didn’t reach out to you was because he was terrified. Terrified of ruining the friendship you two had built over the years. Jake had spent countless nights thinking about you, replaying moments in his mind, and imagining what could be. He wanted to tell you the truth, but he was paralyzed by the fear of your rejection.

What if you didn’t feel the same way? What if confessing his feelings meant losing you forever?

Jake walks over to you and pulls you down to sit on the bed with him, his expression filled with a mix of desperation and vulnerability. His eyes gaze down at your teary ones as he starts to speak in the most serious tone you’ve ever heard from him. “Y/N, the last thing I wanted to do was confuse you.”

“Well, you are confusing me!” Although you want to hear him out, you can’t help but be angry while thinking about his previous immature actions. One thought in particular crosses your mind. “Who was she?” You whisper as you break eye contact with him, prepared for the worst.

Jake takes a deep breath, knowing he needs to explain everything to you. “The girl you saw me with at the mall,” he begins, his voice steadying, “she's not what you think.”

You raise an eyebrow, still feeling a twinge of uncertainty. "Then who is she?"

"She's a friend from one of my classes.” Jake explains, running a hand through his hair. She asked for help with a project she's working on, and we decided to grab some coffee and discuss it. That’s all it was. I promise."

You feel a wave of relief, but there’s still a lingering doubt. “Why did you walk away when you saw me?”

Jake sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “When I saw you, I freaked out. I didn’t know how to face you after everything. I thought you might think she was someone important to me, and I didn’t want to hurt you more than I already had. But running away just made things worse.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside you. "You could have just told me, Jake. I spent these two weeks thinking you hated me or something."

Jake's face softens even more, his eyes pleading. “I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted you to feel that way. To be honest, I was just really scared of losing you. But I've realized that keeping my feelings from you was the worst thing I could have done.”

Your heart races at his words, relief and apprehension filling your chest. "And what are those feelings, Jake? What have you been so afraid to tell me?"

Jake takes a breath, finally ready to tell you what he’s wanted to say for years. It’s now or never. “Y/N, I’m in love with you, and I have been for years. I was scared to tell you because I didn’t know how you would react, and the last thing I wanted was to lose you.” His heart races as the precious words fall from his lips.

You gasp at his sudden confession. You’ve been waiting for this for years and years, and as it’s finally happened, you feel your heart burst with excitement and joy. However, you still feel a fair amount of hesitancy to accept his feelings due to his previous actions.

He watches your face, searching your eyes for an answer. “Jake, I… I’ve waited so long to hear you say that,” his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the uncertainty in your voice. “But do you understand how much you hurt me by ignoring me for so long?” Your voice trembles with anger and sadness. “How am I supposed to know that you won’t do that if we get into another situation like this? I don’t ever want to go through that again.”

Jake’s eyes fill with regret. “I know, Y/N. I was such an idiot. I thought staying away would somehow protect our friendship, but all I did was make things worse.” He takes a hold of your hands and kneels between your legs, while looking up at you with pleading eyes. “Please, Y/N, I’m so, so sorry. I can’t lose you, I don’t know what I would do with you.”

Your lips part in shock and overwhelm as you can sense the sincerity in his words as a couple of tears slip from your eyes. “Okay, Jake. I believe you. And actually, I’ve loved you for years too. I love you so, so much. But you need to promise me that you’ll never do that again, okay? We need to be there for each other, always.”

Jake’s eyes light up with elation. Under this light, he looks a bit like an excited puppy. How adorable, you think to yourself. “I know, I promise I’ll never do anything like that again. I love you, Y/N. I want to be with you.”

Now that you’re feeling more secure in your relationship with Jake, you finally feel at ease. With him, everything is easy and comfortable. With him, you feel at home. “Well, of course you do. I know I’m hard to resist,” you tease. Jake smiles up at you, happy that you’re back to your normal, witty self. “Yeah, imagine how hard it was for me to hide it for so long,” he replies with a grin.

“Mm, yeah, must’ve been pretty tough,” you nod sarcastically as you gently pull him up by his chin. He beams at you before cupping your face and bringing it closer to him until your lips meet in a tender, soft kiss. You both feel fireworks as your mouths rhythmically move together in waves of passion. The kiss is filled with years of unspoken feelings and promises of a future together.

When you finally pull apart, the room is filled with nothing but sounds of heavy breathing. Jake then rests his forehead against yours. “I love you, Y/N. I won’t let you down again.”

You smile, feeling a surge of warmth spread through your chest. “I love you too, Jake. Just don’t keep me in the dark anymore, okay?”

Jake nods, his eyes shining with love. “Never again. From now on, no more secrets.”

You two lay back on the bed, and Jake pulls you close to his body, letting you rest your head on his chest. You talk late into the night, much like you’ve always done before, the difference being instead of best friends, it’s now a conversation between a boyfriend and a girlfriend. This is all you’ve ever wanted and more.

The sun begins to rise again, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, just like that night on the rooftop. But this time, there are no unspoken words or missed opportunities. Just the promise of a new beginning for you and Jake, together.

tags: @breadlover01 @en-chantedtomeetyou @14-hibiscus

[wandanatrules]

Hi there!! I saw that you were taking request so I thought I’d put one in! I’m obsessed with a rich/Silver fox Nat x innocent reader. Silver fox Nat is definitely manipulative and possessive and is obsessed with R. Maybe for the fic nat just had a really stressful day and gets home late and needs to take her anger out on R? Maybe g!p too? Up to you!  definitely super kinky

Try To Keep Me

hey idk if this does your request justice, but I hope you enjoy!! not proofread

word count: 1.5k

pairing: CEO silver fox beefy g!p Nat x housewife fem reader

warnings: smut, nat has a penis, cnc, angst, cursing, slapping, arguing, name calling, breeding kink, lactation kink, (let me know if I miss any )

You were done waiting on her. She told you that she was done with the broken promises, and the worst part was that you believed her. When you agreed to be her housewife you thought it would be less cooking, cleaning, housework and more wife.

It seems as though all you do is cook the meals that she demands, yet she never actually eats, do her laundry, clean her house, and be used as her personal fucktoy. She was never like this when you guys were dating. You used to have fun together, she used to look at you with that special twinkle in her eyes, while she held your hands and showered you with praises. You couldn’t remember the last time she even complimented you on something other than your body.

Yet you stayed, it’s not like she didn’t love you, I mean she paid the bills, you never wanted for anything. And the sex. The sex was incredible. She would take you whenever she wanted and it was always hot and passionate. You just wished she would bring romance back into the relationship and make you feel wanted.

You figured Natasha didn’t try anymore because she got too confident that you would never leave. She’s every woman’s dream being a millionaire CEO, who is exceptionally sexy, with her long red hair and the muscular body that she spends hours upholding everyday in the gym. But that didn’t matter to you, you missed the Natasha she was when you were dating, your gentle Natty who would pursue you each and every day, take you on thoughtful dates and cuddle you to sleep every night. You were going to teach her that she needs to put in effort in order to keep you.

”Babe, i’m home.” she says, walking through the front door throwing her stuff to the side, expecting you to pick it up later. “Where are you?” she wondered why you weren’t in the kitchen cooking or cleaning up like you normally were. 

Walking through the house to look for you, she noticed the light was on in the closet of the master bedroom. “What are you doing, babe?” She asked with a furrowed brow as she saw you haphazardly throwing clothes into bags.

”Packing!” You said with a tight lip, pacing around the room trying to get your stuff together.

”Baby, stop! What’s going on? Where do you think you are going?” She said with an amused smirk. 

“What the hell do you think is so funny! Everyday you come in here and treat me like i’m your fucking sex slave that’s just here to please you and be your maid! I am packing my bags and staying with my sister.”, You said while trying to push past her before she grabbed you by your wrist to stop you and turn you to face her. 

“You’re not gonna leave me baby, you know I love you. Daddy is just so stressed out from work, that it’s hard for me to do all the romantic things you love to do.” She says while holding you by the waist. 

“It’s just that I want you to try, there are tons of women that would beg to take me out and buy me flowers, so I think I am going to go find one of them.” You said trying to break away before feeling a harsh sting on your cheek. 

“You are such a slut, any excuse to whore yourself out to everyone. I bet this bag is filled with skimpy thongs and tight dresses for you to escapade around the town in.” She says as she rips the bag out of your hands and grabs both of your hands behind your back and leads you to the bed. 

Pushing you face down on the bed, she rips your house dress down as you try to wriggle from her hold and smiles when she sees that you are without underwear. 

“Look at how pretty you are baby, I can’t believe you thought you were gonna leave me. You are mine, all the panties in that bag are only for me to see. Do you understand!” She says as she harshly slaps your ass. “You know maybe if I fill you up and make you pregnant you’ll be happier with my long hours, having someone to keep you company. 

“Come here.”, She says pulling you up into all fours, before swiping her fingers through your pussy. “You’re so wet for me baby. Is the thought of me getting you pregnant turning you on?” 

“Yes daddy. Please fuck me, i’m sorry.”, You said while humping back into her trying to reach back and unbutton her dress slacks. 

She swats your hands and moves to unbutton her pants and pull them along with her underwear down and tosses them across the room. Her 9 inch length pops out and hits your cunt and starts to harden, she then begins to jerk herself off in order to fully harden. 

Before slipping in she spreads your ass with hands on both cheeks and licks all throughout your cunt, up and down taking your clit between her teeth. “My goodness baby, I can never get over how good you taste.”, She says after pulling away and planting kisses all over your ass and cunt, licking and sucking on the skin of your cheeks in order to leave bruises. 

“God baby you make me so hard I just have to fuck you.”, She says after pulling away from your ass and lining her cock up with your entrance. With one strong thrust she bottoms out causing you to yelp. Picking up the pace, she grips your hips and with a steady speed she continues to ram into you from behind.

“Oh Natty, please it feels so good. You fuck me so well, I can’t take it i’m gonna cum.”, You say humping back onto her trying to match her pace. 

“Oh not yet baby, you better hold it until I fill you up with my kids.” She husked into your ear, while reaching down to play with your clit. That combined with the unmatched stamina she has from her daily workouts, is making it impossible to hold out.

”Please, please, please, Nat please I’m gonna cum!” 

“Okay baby, don’t worry I got you. I’m right there with you, so cum when you’re ready.” She grunts out in your ear while violently ramming into you trying to catch her high. “Uhh, there you go. Take it all, baby take all my cum.” She releases her load into your cunt, causing you to come right after her. Pulling out she flips you over and pushes you onto your back, fingering the oozing cum back into you to make sure it sticks. 

Pulling her fingers out of your cunt, she licks them and then kisses up your body. Starting between your thighs, she kisses a trail up your stomach, stopping when reaching your chest. “You’re gonna look so sexy as the mother of my children.”, She says while pulling your nipple into her hot mouth, sucking and taking the other one between her skilled fingers, pulling and twisting. “I can’t wait for these tits to be filled with your sweet milk, for me to drink.”

“You know you can’t just fuck me and expect me to forget what i’m upset about!”, You say in between moans as she continues her assault on your boobs.

”Okay, yeah you’re right baby. Tell me, what were you upset about?”, She says, lifting her head from your breasts, looking face to face, with a smirk. 

“No, i’m being serious. Of course I want us to have kids, but I don’t want to feel like a single mother. I want a wife that cares about her kids and spends family time with them and her wife. Please, Nat, I hate that I have to beg you to romance me and make me feel like I mean something to you!” You sit up and cover yourself with the blanket, while you wait for her to reply.

“Yes I understand baby, come here.” She says while pulling you into her lap. “I know i’m not the most present with you, and it seems like I only care about your body when I am stressed out from work, but I don’t. You are the love of my life, and I couldn’t live without you. I am so sorry that I have been so lousy at showing you that. I promise that I will try everyday to show you how much you mean to me and how much I need you. I don’t even know what I was thinking, not treating you like the goddess you are.” She said, grabbing you by the face and placing a kiss on your mouth. 

You move to straddle her hips and grind down on her length, “Okay, baby if that’s how you feel I think we should keep going if we are gonna start trying to have a family.”, You say, leaning in to kiss her again.

[houserautha]

I love your writing and I was wondering throughout the parenthood of their child how would TDE Feyd and the reader react to there kid walking in on them getting frisky I feel as tho reader would try to play it off as they are just having a little playful fight but Feyd would just be so confused and just tell your kid point blank what his parents were doing.

Again i love you work love u ( not in a weird way) hope to see another part to TDE 😄

Thank you!! And I love you (in a weird way😉)

You have just enough foresight to clutch the blankets to your chest as the door to your bedroom swings open, revealing a small silhouette backlit by the hallway light. Besides you, Feyd removes his mouth from your neck.

“C/N? What are you doing?”

“I had a nightmare.” Your child shuffles across your room, clutching their favorite stuffy. Unshed tears glisten in their eyes.

You and Feyd are forced to part as your child crawls up onto the bed. They kneel at the bottom, looking unfairly adorable despite the fact that they’ve interrupted your evening. You want to hold your arms out to them but doing so would release the blanket and expose your breasts.

Out of the corner of your eye, you glance at Feyd. There’s an obvious frown on his face.

“What were you doing? I heard noises. I thought you guys had a nightmare too,” your child says. He looks between the both of you.

Your throat thickens and you plaster a smile on your face. “Mommy and Daddy were…play fighting.”

“Play fighting?” Your child echoes.

Feyd turns to you, frown deepening. “What?”

“Play fighting,” you say between gritted teeth, doing your best to convey with your eyes to your husband that this was not the time. “We were just having fun.”

“No we weren’t,” Feyd says, oblivious.

Under the blankets, you dig your nails into his bare thigh. It does nothing to deter him, however.

“You weren’t play fighting?” Confusion drives the brows of your child downward. “Then what were you doing?”

You hope that Feyd will have crescent-shaped marks in his legs tomorrow. Maybe you’ll draw blood. “We were play fighting. Daddy is just being silly because we were losing.”

“Why are you lying?”

“Mommy, you’re lying?”

A flare of anger burns inside you. Your gaze flickers from your child’s devastated expression to Feyd’s baffled one. It takes an enormous effort to roll your eyes to the ceiling. You sigh. “What do you think we were doing?”

Your child narrows their eyes, studies you.

When they fail to come up with an answer, Feyd answers for them. “We were going to have sex.”

“Sex?” Your child’s nose scrunches.

“Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen —”

“Sex is natural,” he says to you, lifting a shoulder, and then to your child, “it happens between two consenting people, sometimes for different reasons.”

“When they love each other,” you interject, clamoring to pick up the pieces of your husband’s flawed parenting approach. Of course you believed in being honest about sex and bodies and relationships with your child, but you were of the mind to introduce the concepts slowly and in an age appropriate manner.

Feyd clearly was not on the same page. “Not always,” he disagrees with you.

Your child looks to you for confirmation. You don’t want to be accused again of being a liar, and you don’t want your child to feel as if they can’t come to you to ask you questions. “Sometimes two people can do it even if they don’t love each other,” you say, “but your Daddy and I do. It’s a way to express our love for each other.”

“Oh.” Your child blinks at you. “Alright.” They point at the space between you. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Feyd is already throwing your clothes at you before you can respond. Sheepishly, you throw the dressing gown over your head then beckon your child over, dropping a kiss on their head. As they nestle between the two of you, you catch Feyd’s eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Tell Asha we need time alone tomorrow.”

You grin at him.

“For sex?” Your child asks.

Feyd buries his fingers under your child’s ribs, eliciting a squeal of delight. “That’s not for you to worry about. Go to bed, soldier. That’s an order.”

The soft snores a few moments later tell you that he’s already drifted off.

“And remind me to install a lock,” Feyd mutters, throwing an arm over his face. Like his child, it doesn’t take him very long to fall asleep. You lay awake, listening to the steady sound of their breathing, and smile.

[seramilla]

Ok another AU: basically the deal between Stolitz but make it Seramilla

Overlord Carmilla finds out that Angelic Weapons can be remade with the proper conditions and starts collecting the ones that the Exorcists leave behind. No one in Heaven knows that Heaven-made Weapons release a Holy Energy that acts like radiation to demon kind. If left out long enough the Holy energy purifies its surroundings, killing anything "unholy" within its radius and leaving the metal unable to perma-kill sinners.

Sera finds out about the new Demon Overlord that's been collecting the weapons and sets up a private meeting with them, fearing that they'll try to use the Weapons against Heaven. She doesn't tell Lucifer exactly why she needs to talk to this Sinner but Lucifer agrees all the same. When they meet, Sera is gay panicking hard and can't get her thoughts in order. Carmilla on the other hand, knows EXACTLY why she was called here and, fearing for the safety of her girls and people, she offers to do anything for Sera.

Sera short-circuits, but thankfully recovers quickly and in a haze, offers to allow Carmilla to keep and continue collecting the Exorcist Weapons only if Carmilla agrees to sleep with her. Carmilla is shocked and a bit indignant at first, but after thinking it over decides that her body and dignity is a small price to pay for her family's safety and prosperity. So, once a month, Sera will open a portal to Carmilla's place (wherever she feels is secure) and Carmilla will go to Heaven for their "agreement". And hey, who knows? maybe if Carmilla does a "good job" Sera might even give her new heavenly ores to plays with. Sera can't leave as it would alert both the Elders and Lucifer that an angel has left Heaven and entered Hell.

And just like that, with Sera still not completely there or thinking clearly and Carmilla accepting her fate, the deal between Seraphim and Overlord is signed.

Sera would feel guilty for basically forcing Carmilla into this deal later, but Carmilla is just so good at this Sera can't bring herself to end it.

I changed it up a bit. Sorry, not sorry. Brazen Carmilla just grabbed me by the throat and wouldn't let me go until I wrote it this way.

When Sera discovers that one of Hell's most powerful overlords has been capitalizing on all the angelic weapons left behind after the Exterminations, Sera hadn't been expecting her to be so...beautiful.

Carmilla Carmine is nothing like she expected -- she'd thought someone gruff, warrior-like, and intimidating would show up to her office. This woman before her is calm, confident, and resonates a certain lackadaisical attitude about everything. Sera is almost offended that she seems more interested in all the books lining the shelves in her office, instead of the Seraphim sitting at the desk right in front of her.

"Ms. Carmine," Sera says, clearing her throat, trying to draw Carmilla's attention back to her. "This is a serious matter. Will you please pay attention?"

Carmilla continues to walk the line of bookshelves with her hands behind her back, standing perfectly upright with impeccable posture, before she eventually turns back to Sera, to give the angel the attention she so desperately craves.

"I don't really think we have much to discuss on the matter. You've given me no good reason to halt my machinations. This is my livelihood now. It's just business. Certainly you can understand that."

Sera sighs heavily, exaggeratedly so. This woman may have the demeanor of a mafia boss and the presence of a model on a runway, but she is also no slouch, and has not given Sera an inch ever since she agreed to an audience with her.

The Sinner is not even grateful that she'd invited her here, to her office in Heaven, and treated her to a day away from that literal Hellscape she calls home. Not even the promise of a day pass had been enough to get her to see reason.

"Certainly, Carmilla, you can see my point of view," Sera tries again. "I can't exactly have a Sinner confiscating weapons that have the power to pose a threat to my people. How do you think that makes me look in the eyes of the elders?"

"I fail to see how that's my problem."

Sera huffs out loud, unable to hide her frustration behind her mask of indifference any longer. This Sinner is getting under her skin like no one else has before. And if the way Carmilla is looking at her is any indication, with that shit-eating grin and casual way she just saunters over to Sera's desk and sits on the edge of it...she's quite enjoying herself, too.

Carmilla seems to sense Sera's unease. Looking the angel up and down, a mischievous smile spreads across her face. She slides across the desk, in an almost sultry, seductive fashion. She dangles her feet off the edge, right next to Sera, and swings them back and forth. Sera is a tall woman. Her desk is huge. Even Carmilla's feet can't touch the floor while sitting on it.

"You seem a little...tense," Carmilla says. Without warning, her hand slides slowly across the smooth, expensive wood beneath her, until three of her fingers just barely graze against Sera's. Sera gasps at the touch.

Then one of Carmilla's legs shifts to place itself invasively between her knees, spreading Sera's legs slightly. Sera's heart, or whatever she has that beats inside her chest, is now pumping a mile a minute. She gulps again. Carmilla leans in closer.

"How about I...help you out there?"

Sera's face immediately brightens several shades of gold. Faster than she thinks she's ever moved in her life, she leaps out of her chair and backs herself away from her desk...right into one of her bookshelves. Why does she have so many books??? Who needs this many books??? She keeps repeating this in her head, as her back hits the shelf of tomes, and she's trapped, and Carmilla quickly advances to close her body in against hers.

Sera holds out her hands in front of her, as if that will in any way protect her from the likes of Carmilla Carmine.

Sera starts rambling. She doesn't quite know what else to do, under the circumstances.

"You know, this is getting quite a bit...is it hot? I'm starting to feel it getting very hot--"

Sera gets cut off, as Carmilla Carmine practically slams her large clawed hand into the shelf next to her, causing a few books to fall and scatter all around them.

Sera almost scolds her, but she doesn't get a chance, because Carmilla takes the taller woman's arms within her grasp, turning her around, and not-so-gently pushing her back toward the desk, until Sera plops backward into her chair in a heap.

Sera is breathing hard at this point. From her chair, she has to look up at Carmilla standing over her, with the most delicious, predatory look adorning her features. Sera swallows, and tries to speak, and swallows again when she can't form the right words. The words that actually manage to come out are shaky, confused, and uncertain.

"What is--what are you doing to me?" Sera asks. In lieu of an answer, Carmilla stands directly in front of Sera. The overlord bends down, hands propped on the arms of the chair, until she's eye level with the Seraphim. She's looking at Sera's lips, not her eyes...like she wants to lean in and kiss the angel. Or eat her. Probably both.

"What do you want me to do to you?" Carmilla asks, with absolutely zero restraint or decorum in her question. It's like she doesn't even care she's talking to a Seraphim this way.

Somehow, Sera finds herself unable to care about that, either.

"I...uh...well..." Sera starts. The words are still escaping her. If she's honest, she's never been in this particular...position before. With anyone. Even the thought of someone coming on to her normally makes her want to vomit. But somehow, with this woman...everything she thought she knew about herself is subsequently flying out the window.

That's okay, though. Carmilla seems perfectly capable of speaking for the both of them.

"How about we...find a solution that works for both of us?" Carmilla suggests; she's so close now, that Sera can practically feel the heat of her breath on the sensitive skin of her face.

"What--what do you mean?" Sera asks. The grin on Carmilla's face only gets wider.

"I'll stop collecting angelic weapons left behind during the Exterminations," Carmilla suggests. "Instead, you start supplying them to me directly. Out of your own stores. Fresh ones. New ones. I can still protect and provide for my family. You get the elders out of your hair...they think you've done your job, that Hell is no longer a threat...and in return, I give you..."

Without warning, Carmilla finally does make contact with Sera's face, crushing their mouths together in a passionate, all-consuming kiss, one that makes Sera lose all sense of self and substance for several glorious seconds. It's Sera's first kiss, but obviously not Carmilla's. It's an out-of-body experience. The woman does so many delicious, mind-bending things with her tongue in Sera's mouth, that Sera can't help but whimper, when Carmilla inevitably pulls away.

"...That."

"That?" Sera repeats, confused about what has just transpired. "I get...you kissing me in return?"

"Or whatever else you would like. As a crafter of weapons, I'm rather proficient with my hands...as well as my mouth. But that last part has nothing to do with making weapons."

The insinuation is palpable. Carmilla rubs one large, clawed hand against Sera's cheek, with so much tenderness and gentle care, Sera almost forgets what those claws could do to her face, if she were to let her guard down.

Sera melts. The next words exiting her lips are completely out of character, against her will, and against all common sense. This woman must have her under some kind of spell. There's literally no other explanation for why she says what she does.

"Once a month," Sera starts, and when Carmilla looks at her confused, Sera extrapolates, "We get new shipments from the forge master once a month. I do this for you...you come here once a month to collect. And then we...umm, you can show me..."

Sera lets her thought linger in the air, but Carmilla understands. The overlord smiles. She nods. As if Sera needs any other reason to completely fall apart at the seams, Carmilla then has the absolute gall to sit directly in Sera's lap, and kiss her again. This time, with her arms wound tightly around Sera's neck, pushing her even further into her chair, until it starts to bow backward under their weight.

Carmilla swirls her tongue around in Sera's mouth again, and runs her fingers through Sera's long, voluptuous locks, for good measure. To give the disheveled Seraphim a preview of what to expect in the coming months. When she pulls away again, Sera's hair is a mess, and so is her face, with Carmilla's lipstick all over her cheeks and mouth. Sera's giving a sheepish, love-struck grin, and Carmilla can't help but smile back at her.

"Is it a deal, then?" Carmilla holds out her hand. Sera hesitates, knowing the implications of a deal with an overlord from Hell can be fraught with complications.

She weighs the risks in her mind, and comes to the conclusion that for her, it is worth it. Timidly, she takes Carmilla's hand and intertwines the demon's large claws with her delicate, human-like fingers. Even with Carmilla's strength and capabilities...nothing the demon could do to her would cause her permanent damage. Right? At the end of the day, the risk to her is relatively low. She's willing to cage that bet, if it means she can see Carmilla again.

So she shakes Carmilla's hand, accepting her fate, and Carmilla leaves with the promise of her return at the next full moon. Sera is left sitting in her chair, wondering and contemplating, who exactly is this woman she's entangled herself with, and what exactly she has gotten herself into now?

[stranger-stevieee]

Chapter 3: Holly, Jolly

Summary: As Will Byers' older sister, you have a responsibility to protect him. When you fail, you have to go through the process of getting him back safely. Between fighting inter-dimensional monsters, a girl with superpowers, and getting your brother back, you might just end up falling in love along the way.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Byers!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings (entire series): cursing, angst, gore/violence (in the later seasons), fem!reader, enemies to lover (sorta), switching between past and present tense because I can’t keep up with myself, any other warnings from the show

—

It isn’t rare for you to wake up in Will’s room some mornings. 

When he was younger he used to get scared a lot, whether it was because of something in the dark or a nightmare, he would sit up in his bed and wait until the morning to get out of bed. 

There would be occasions when he would feel comfortable enough to get out of bed and go into your room in search of safety, but most times you would find him sitting in his bed, wide awake, staring into the darkness.

You were his safe place. The person he could go to when he felt scared, sad, or even unsafe.

But this time, you were waking up in Will’s room for a completely different reason. 

You weren’t here because he needed you. You were here because Will was gone, and you were up almost all night trying to figure out where he was.

You wake up to the same view you fell asleep to last night. Joyce is sitting on the edge of the bed, in front of the lights you had helped her set up last night. 

“Will? Sweetheart, can you hear me?” you hear her whisper to the lights, “It’s me. It’s me, talk to me”

You sit up in bed, now wide awake, push the covers off of you, and crawl over to the end of the bed to sit with her.

“Have you been up all night?” 

You know she has but you still felt the need to ask. There was no way she would’ve been able to fall asleep after what happened last night. You weren’t sure how you were able to sleep after that.

Before she could answer you, Jonathan walked in and looked around the room with a confused look on his face.

You knew how he felt about Joyce entertaining this idea that Will is trying to talk to her, so him seeing this must have hurt him because he never wants to see her that way.

“Mom, what are you doing?”

Joyce perked up at the sound of his voice and she turned around to look at him, “Come here, come here!” her voice was shaking and you could tell she had been crying for a while

“What’s going on?” You know he was asking her but he was looking at you.

You knew he wouldn’t believe whatever she said, he would just listen and try to convince her that she was going crazy, but you saw the same thing she did. She’s not losing it, something weird is happening. You know it.

“It’s Will. He… he’s trying to talk to me,”

You look at Jonathan’s face to try and gauge his reaction, “He’s trying to talk to you?”

“Yes! Through the lights,”

“Mom-”

Yeah he totally thinks she’s out of her mind, you thought

“I know. I know. Just… look,” she turns to face one of the lights sitting in front of her and says, “Will… your brother’s here. Could you show him what you showed me and your sister?” 

At the mention of you, Jonathan looks at you with furrowed brows and a look but you shrug your shoulders knowing that if he didn’t believe her, he wouldn’t believe you

Both of you direct your attention away from each other and back to the lights. Looking around the room, your eyes land on the lightbulb sitting directly in front of you three, and you watch as it flickers on for a split second before shutting off just as quickly.

You and Joyce let out a collective gasp and jumped forward in sync, which startled Jonathan. Joyce turned towards Jonathan in shock and excitement. “Did you see that?!”

Jonathan immediately shuts her down, “It’s just the electricity, Mom. It’s acting up.”

“No! It is not the electricity, Jonathan.” She argues, but you interrupt her before she can continue, wanting to talk to Jonathan before she gets even more frustrated. “Jonathan, can I talk to you?” 

“Yeah…”

You walked outside of the room with Jonathan following closely behind. He knew you were going to try to talk him into believing all of this craziness, but he just couldn’t. In his mind, Will is just missing and when you guys find him, all will be right again.

“Okay, I know she sounds… crazy, but everything she’s saying is true. I saw everything she saw last night and I know it’s hard to believe but you have to trust me.”

His eyes flicker between you and the bedroom door a couple of times before he responds, “I just don’t want her getting so worked up about all of this. If it really is just the electricity…”

You couldn’t help but sigh, “What I saw last night was not the electricity acting up. Something weird is going on.” You repeat his words from earlier, desperate for him to hear you out, to believe you.

He stepped forward and placed his hands on your shoulders, pulling you into a hug. “Hey, I can’t have you spinning out on me too, okay?”

You look up at your brother, who, even though he’s a year younger, is almost a foot taller than you, considering you haven’t grown in over a year and this is the height you’re stuck at.

“Okay…” You know how hard he’s trying to keep it together for you and your mom, and can’t help thinking it should be you comforting him and Joyce not the other way around.

“I’m going to talk to Mom about… all this, try and calm her down. Why don’t you go get ready for the day? Do you still want to go to school today? I have to go develop some pictures so I'll be there anyway,”

He was right. You need to calm yourself down, maybe take a shower, and get ready.

“Yeah, I probably have a lot of work to catch up on. I’ll make breakfast too, give you a little break,” you said, trying to give him a reassuring smile 

He turns and walks back into the room, while you head off to your room.

It only takes you about 20 minutes to shower, get dressed, and get in the kitchen to get started on breakfast for the three of you.

Usually, you would add a touch of makeup into your routine but with what’s happened in the past few days, you were good with just getting dressed for the day.

Before you could finish breakfast, Jonathan walked in and asked what he could help with. You put him on toast duty which was the easiest and suddenly, things started to feel normal for a second.

You and Jonathan in the kitchen making breakfast before school, working together, even laughing for the first time in a while when you started to crack some jokes.

It felt normal except there was one thing or person missing, Will.

—

Walking down the halls, you made your way toward your locker to put away the books you wouldn’t need for a while. 

You found yourself standing next to Nancy whose locker had been placed next to yours ever since she started high school last year. 

Your first period of the day was English, which you just so happened to share with Nancy.

Taking a closer look at her, you could tell she looked a bit nervous “Hey, are you okay?” you asked out of concern

“Yeah…it’s just-”

She was cut off by the sound of her locker slamming into another. The sound was caused by none other than her boyfriend, Steve Harrington. 

“Hey!” he said, showing her his obnoxious smile before she replied shyly, “Hey…”

You roll your eyes, turn back to your locker, and continue to shove your books inside, knowing that with him there, your conversation with Nancy wouldn’t resume for a while or ever.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Steve, you just…well, you didn’t like him. In all honesty, it had less to do with him and more to do with his “friends”. 

The ones who bullied you during freshman year for absolutely no reason other than you having less than them and while he rarely participated, he never stopped them either.

You contemplated waiting for Nancy to finish her conversation so you could walk to class together, but you decided to leave before you could witness them kissing and gave her some space.

You made it to class with just enough time, sitting down as soon as the bell rang and watching Nancy walk in with seconds to spare. She made her way to her seat right behind you.

It was a few seconds later when she tapped your shoulder to ask you a question, “Hey, Y/N. Where’s Barb?”

You turned around in your seat and looked at her confused. While Barb could be considered a friend of yours, you don’t speak to her that often. “Um…shouldn’t you know?” 

“You haven’t seen her anywhere?” She, once again, had this nervous look on her face that had you worried

“No. Maybe she stayed home today?” Shaking your head, you offered an excuse

“Yeah, maybe”

—

When school let out, you made your way to Jonathan’s car to wait for him. 

Sitting on the hood, you take your sketchbook and continue the drawing you’ve been working on. You would consider yourself a good artist, after all, it is what you want to go to school for.

You were the one who “taught” Will to draw. He had taken an interest when he saw you at the kitchen table, drawing a portrait of your Mom as a gift for her birthday a year ago.

You had a picture of her in front of you and were using it as a sort of guide when he came to join you at the table and simply asked, “How are you so good at it?”

“I don’t know, I just think of what I want to draw and then I just… do it” you had said, taking your eyes off the piece of paper and looking over at him, “Do you wanna try?”

“Can I?” he asked excitedly

You let out a little giggle at his excitement and slid the paper across the table towards him. He immediately snatched it, took one look at the picture of Joyce, and started drawing.

At the rate he was going, he would finish the whole thing before you could take it back but you were happy to let him take the reins, even if it wouldn’t look the best in the end.

However, when he gave the drawing back, it looked way better than what you had started. Turned out he was a natural and didn’t need your help at all, “Will! This looks amazing! What the heck?”

He blushed at your words, thinking you wouldn’t think it was as good, but he should’ve known you would never put him down like that, “You really think so?”

“Duh! Will you should draw more often… I mean it.” And he did.

After that day, he started drawing more and more, sometimes asking for your help. You were happy to help him and over time it became something the two of you would do together, to bond and get closer as siblings.

You really miss him.

The sound of footsteps approaching pulled you out of your daydream. Looking up from your sketchbook, you see Steve, Tommy, Carol, and Nicole stop in front of you.

Sighing, you shut your book and shove it back into your bag, “Can I help you?” you ask the group but direct your attention to Steve who is standing in the forefront while the other three are behind him.

He looked at you with his infamous smirk, “Not at all. We’ll just wait here” and with that, he leaned back onto Jonathan’s car and started a conversation with the others.

Rolling your eyes, you hopped off the hood and went to step in front of the group. “Wait for what?”

The four got quiet before Tommy stepped forward and asked, “Byers,” he said sarcastically,  “...do you know what your brother was doing last night?”

“I don’t, Tommy,” you spit out his name like he’s the last person you want to be talking to right now, “...why don’t you enlighten me?”

Before he could answer you, Steve, who had been watching your interaction, noticed Jonathan walking towards the car. He saw his opportunity and, boy, did he take it.

“Why don’t you let him answer your question, Byers” You turned around and saw that Jonathan was now standing directly behind you. “Hey, man.” Steve continued.

“What’s going on?” Jonathan asked while placing his hands on your shoulders to move you behind him.

“Nicole here,” Steve turned to point over at the redhead behind him, “...was, uh, telling us about your work. And we'd just love to take a look. You know, as... connoisseurs of art”

You looked up at Jonathan and saw what looked like guilt on his face, you furrowed your brows but kept quiet, allowing them to continue.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Jonathan took a step towards the driver's side of the car and reached for the handle but Tommy stepped up and snatched the bag out of his arms just as quickly.

“What the fuck, Tommy?!” You’re not that much of a fighter but when it comes to your brothers, you’re not one to mess with.

At this point, Tommy had already tossed the bag to Steve who had proceeded to dig through it until he found what he was looking for.

“Man, he is totally trembling. He must really have something to hide,” Steve looked at you with his brows raised, “Ah… here we go,” he said, pulling a stack of pictures out of the bag 

You didn’t know what the pictures were of, but you did know that it couldn’t be good based on the reaction of the group. “Jonathan…” you tried to get him to look at you but he kept his eyes on the others who were going through the pictures.

“I was looking for my brother,” Jonathan said, trying to defend himself but this was brand new information to you. 

You backed away from his side for a split second, allowing you to take a better look at him, “You went looking for Will without me?”

You were hurt knowing he went out into the woods without you, by himself. Who knows what could have happened to him? You wouldn’t be able to handle yourself if anything did happen. You would be a mess.

“No, this is called stalking,” Steve said while pointing down at the pictures that Carol was now holding.

You went to take a look at the photos, wanting to know what all the commotion was about. Before you did, you felt Jonathan’s hand around your wrist, holding you back.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he whispered which made this whole situation a lot more serious.

Walking forward, you took the prints out of Steve’s hand but didn’t look down at them just yet. You felt the need to mentally prepare yourself if the pictures were as bad as they were saying.

Finally looking at them, you were in shock. The first picture was of Steve and Nancy in what looks to be his backyard, standing out by the pool, which looks to be innocent but shouldn’t have been taken in the first place. 

The last picture was probably the most shocking of all. The photo was zoomed in on Steve’s bedroom window and in it was the silhouette of, who you're assuming is Nancy, taking her top off.

You don’t look at the picture for long before handing it back to Carol, who gave it to you in the first place, and looking up Jonathan who looked at you with guilt in his eyes.

Before you could say anything, Nancy had appeared. “Here's the starring lady,” Carol said in response.

“What?” Nancy stood there with an awkward smile on her face, still not understanding what was happening.

“This creep was spying on us last night,” Carol handed Nancy the incriminating photo of herself, “He was probably gonna save this one for later,”

As Nancy stood there, staring down at the picture, you stood staring at your brother, wondering what on earth he was thinking when he decided to take these photos.

You weren’t going to defend his actions because you know what he did was wrong, and he knows it too, but you also weren’t going to let them push him around.

“See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but… man, that's the thing about perverts…” Steve said as he made his way over to Jonathan, “It's hardwired into 'em, you know, they just can't help themselves.” He then proceeds to rip up all the pictures and toss them to the ground. “So… we'll just have to take away his toy,”

He walks back to the car and grabs Jonathan’s bag, and you immediately know what he’s going for. The camera.

“Steve…” you call out, hoping that for once he would empathize with you and not destroy the one thing that brings your brother joy.

Jonathan launches forward, trying to get to his bag before Steve does, “No, please, not the camera,” but before he can reach it, Tommy holds him back, seemingly ready to take matters into his own hands.

“No, no, wait, wait… Tommy, it's okay,” Steve says causing Tommy to back off. He holds the camera out for Jonathan to take as you watch him carefully, “Here you go, man,” and for a second you think he’s being genuine, that just maybe he was playing around and he thought it would be a funny joke.

You should’ve known better because the second Jonathan reached out for the camera, Steve let it slip from his grip and it audibly shattered onto the concrete.

You let out a gasp at his action, immediately bending down to inspect the broken camera while Jonathan stood, watching them walk away. 

You tuned out your surroundings, not even noticing Nancy picking up some stray pieces of the ripped photos or when Jonathan bent down to help you pick up what was left of the shattered device.

The camera might not have been yours but you had helped Joyce save money for months just to buy it for Jonathan as a Christmas present, so it meant just as much to you.

A sudden wave of anger came over you. Not at Jonathan but at Steve. You chose to ignore it for the time being. Choosing to focus on Jonathan and the problem at hand.

“What were you thinking, Jonny?” you asked, trying not to sound too angry although that proved to be harder than it seemed.

“I wasn’t. It’s as plain and simple as that, I wasn’t thinking.”

“So how did you end up in Harrington’s backyard last night?” You just wanted to understand where he was coming from and clear up any confusion you had before you jumped to any conclusions.

“I was out looking for Will and I brought my camera in case I found any clues, I guess. Then I heard this really loud scream and for some reason, my first instinct was to run towards it.”

You look up at him and say, “Well, that was your first mistake,”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “...anyway, I followed the sound and ended up at Steve’s house. I couldn’t tell you why I decided to take pictures, but I promise I’m not…”

You had cut him off, knowing what he was going to say next, “I know, I believe you,”

He looked up from his camera to look at you, “You do”

“Do you really think I’d believe anything that comes out of their mouths, over you?” you say with a playful smile, the conversation dying down and your anger coming back up.

You were not going to let Steve get away with this.

“Fuck it,” you whisper, getting up from your crouched position, not paying attention to Jonathan as he calls your name, you made your way inside in search of Steve, ready to give him a piece of your mind.

Walking towards the school, you see Nancy exit through the pair of double doors. “Nancy, is Steve in there?” You know she’s probably still angry about everything that happened a few minutes ago but despite that, she nods her head and continues walking. That’s all you needed.

Sure enough, as soon as you walked through the doors, Steve stood there. He already had this annoyed look on his face and here you were, about to make it worse.

“Byers, did you finally realize what a perv your brother is?” he called out while you were still a ways away from him, laughing along with Tommy and Carol who were sitting on the bench behind him.

Once you finally caught up to him and stood face to face, “What the hell is your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem, sweetheart,” he said giving you a smirk

“So, what, you think what you did out there was okay? That destroying another person's property is okay? News flash, Harrington, not everyone can afford all the fancy shit you have. Some people actually have to work in order to get things. I know that concept might seem foreign to you but it's true.”

He stared at you with a smirk on his face before he spoke up, “Did you really expect me to let him get away with that?”

“Of course not, Steve, but did you have to break his camera? That’s his only prized possession. Wasn’t all the taunting, bullying, and ripping up the pictures enough?”

“Listen,” he said stepping closer to you, “... he needed to be taught a lesson, and I gave him one. Now he won’t ever do anything like this again,” he ended his sentence with a smile, seemingly proud of himself

Furrowing your brows, you continue, “You couldn’t have handled it any other way?”

“How would you suggest I handled it?”

Your voice rose in order to prove a point but you weren’t yelling just yet, “I don’t know, maybe talk it out like a normal person.” you said shrugging your shoulders 

“Talking it out won’t stop him. Who’s to say he won’t go out and do it again? To more innocent people?” He paused for a second before he said “Who knows, maybe you could be next?”

“You’re disgusting! What is wrong with you?”

“Hey, I’m just saying. Once a perv, always a perv”

“Maybe don’t judge someone before actually getting to know them” You don’t give him the opportunity to answer before you turn around and walk away.

—

The road was dark, with nothing but the headlights of the car illuminating the road.

You and Jonathan were driving in silence. You didn’t expect to find your mom running down the street towards you both. 

As soon as the car is stopped, you jump out of the passenger seat and meet Joyce in the middle of the road with Jonathan following right after you.

Jonathan was the first to speak, “Mom?”

“Mom, what happened? Did you see that thing again?”

She said nothing. Instead, she burst into tears right there in the middle of the road. You both hugged her and started to comfort her.

You had no clue the shock that would hit you within the next hour.

—

a/n: Um… so I kinda hate how I wrote this chapter. I feel like k could’ve done better but I just wanted to get it out. Anyways hope you enjoyed and as always please let me know what I can do better (kindly)

Tags: @torntaltos @xprloki

[666writingcafe]

Disruption

MC

I knew that I had to get the brothers settled down for the evening before I can even begin to look at any of these applications, and I thought I did a fairly decent job of making sure everyone had what they wanted.

But of course, the moment I sit down at the desk in the study and crack open the first one off the stack of papers, I hear people yelling.

"Why are you talking like that?! You're making fun of me, aren't you?!" That sounds like Levi.

"Wha?" And there's Mammon. "No, I wasn't tryin' to make fun of ya...little guy." Groaning and cursing to myself, I get up and step outside the study.

"Quit calling me that!" Levi shouts. "You...you moron!"

"HEY!" Mammon hollers. "That's no way to talk to your older brother!"

"Older brother?! A total moron like you? I've never thought of you as my older brother, not for a single second!"

"SAY WHAT?!"

"Guys, enough," I gently reprimand. "It's too late for you two to be screaming like this. People are trying to sleep."

"Oh, shut up, Zephyr!" Levi snaps. "This is none of your business!" I narrow my eyes at him.

"I don't appreciate you speaking to me in that tone." For whatever reason, my warning makes Mammon laugh.

"You've never been on my level, Levi! Not in the Celestial Realm, and certainly not here! And ya never will be! I'll always be the boss of you!"

"Mammon--" I get interrupted by Levi growling as he rushes up to his brother and punches him in the face, making him stumble momentarily. This is definitely making their fights in my timeline seem like child's play in comparison.

"Say what you want. I'm still strong enough to knock you to the ground."

"You think ya can take me in a fight with those granny punches of yours? All right, bring it on!" Oh, that's not happening on my watch. I'm not about to let them destroy the library. There's no way I can clean up that kind of a mess before Lucifer returns.

So, I clear my throat and say the first spell that comes to mind.

"Bringers of discord, may a curse be upon you! I am the one called Zephyr. Hear me! Transform! May you be small, weak, and timid!" The brothers' eyes widen as a bright light envelops them. Moments later, they've turned into cute little Chihuahuas.

"There. That's better." I'll have to thank Solomon for teaching me that particular curse. It's really effective.

Once Levi and Mammon realize what I've done, they run up to me and begin yipping at my feet.

"Oh, it'll wear off in the morning," I tell them. "I just need to work in peace for a few hours, and I can block out the sound of your barking a lot easier."

"What's going on in here...?" Oh shit. I didn't hear Lucifer come in the house.

This is awkward.

Lucifer stops in front of the library doorway, taking a proper look at the scene in front of him. As he glances between me and the dog version of his brothers, I can see the quick progression of his emotions in his eyes.

Anger.

Confusion.

Irritation.

Contemplation.

Resignation?

"Was it justified?" he sighs. Not the question I expected him to ask, but I can work with it.

"Yes," I respond, trying to sound as confident as I can. "They were interrupting me from my work." Lucifer focuses his attention back on the Chihuahuas.

"Look, it's not like I have the time or skills to string them up properly to the ceiling--" He holds up his hand, signaling for me to shut up.

"It's fine," he tells me. "I'll take them for a walk. Just do what you need to do for Lord Diavolo." I'm taken aback as he walks over and scoops the dogs up in his arms. I fully expected for him to tear into me for punishing his brothers without his knowledge or consent, but he hasn't even given me a light warning to not do it again.

And then I smell it.

Nutmeg.

I'm lucky that he turns his back to me quickly and swiftly walks out of the library, for I can't hide the growing smirk on my face to save my life.

This is definitely going to amuse Barbatos.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

[canellescandles]

☆Baby,the stars shine bright☆ pt5

pt1,pt2,pt3,pt4

inspired by the 'kamikaze girls',♡ always had unconditional love for lolita fashion and nothing else but when she met ellie,an auburn haired girl whos part of a gang with a dad's fashion sense ,her love for clothes begins to compete with her growing feelings for ellie

strangers to friends to lovers,love-hate friendship,opposite aesthetics,early 2000s

wlw,extra fluff in this chapter

wc:8k

The sun was setting as Ellie was driving you to her house.

Beforehand, you had time to stop by a shop. Every time you got money, you couldn’t help but use it right away, so you and Ellie bought bracelets.

They weren’t just any kind of bracelets.

You and Ellie bought bracelets shaped like the moon on the day of your birthday.

It turned out your moons completed each other when you put your wrists next to each other!

Ellie's lips turned into a loving smile, as bright as the moonlight. "I really wonder what this means," Ellie said, playing dumb. She wondered if you thought about the same thing.

You quickly bought the bracelets. "You watch too many movies," you replied, leaving things ambiguous even though you did think it was a sign.

Ellie's waning crescent moon and your waning gibbous moon formed one full moon.

Maybe it was the fact that you and Ellie were so different that made you and her get along.

"I knew you'd say that." The poor girl wished you fell for her as fast as she fell for you.

Ellie was driving less fast and less dangerously since you were already hurt.

You told her you were fine, but she didn't believe you. She wanted to get your face cleaned up since your forehead was bleeding a bit after falling on the ground.

You wrapped your arms around her waist like she showed you before and laid your head on her shoulder. The woody and earthy scent with a subtle sweetness didn't leave her body. At first, you didn't bother being close to her, but now, you started to like this.

Sure, here's a corrected version:

The road to her home was long.

Ellie felt excited to bring you over to her house. She didn't want to leave you like last time. She usually hated 'goodbyes,' but with you, she started to despise them. Spending more time with you made her happy, and she thought it wasn't too soon to introduce you to Joel.

It had been a while since she last had someone over. She never dared to invite any of her gang members, even though they were her friends. If they ever turned their backs on her and did something to Joel, she would never forgive herself.

However, you earned Ellie's respect since the day you got your revenge on the thief.

You never dared to unfairly blame her for anything, and that was enough for you to gain her trust.

Remarkable and so beautiful, you were also starting to gain her love.

It felt as if the sun was following you as Ellie drove into a small village, lost in the middle of nowhere, isolated from the big buildings.

Ellie was focused on the road, trying to ignore her heart speeding up when she noticed your bodies touching.

She was already planning excuses in her head for you to sleep over.

You took this opportunity to slip the money you wanted to give her into her pocket.

"Do you often go to the casino?" you asked as the road grew bumpier, interrupting the silence.

"Like 2 or 3 times a month, depending on how much money I need."

You nodded as both of you entered the woods. It was a good thing that she wasn't gambling every day like your dad. She was intelligent and knew her limits.

"How much did you need today?"

"Not so much, I got enough to travel around the country to find someone," Ellie explained. She further mentioned that she had to meet Himeko, an old woman who was the founder of the gang she joined.

You were surprised to hear this name again because your mother had the same name.

If it wasn't for her, Ellie wouldn't be in her gang, which was like a shelter in a hostile place, a second home to her.

She owed it all to Himeko, as well as Dina: being able to fight, making justice right, and making good friends and memories along the way.

It was only when she'd go out driving with her gang members that she'd feel free and forget about everything. "Nobody ever found her, but rumors say she's still alive. I have to find a designer or something to sew my gang's name on the jacket's sleeve and then give it to her."

Ellie parked her motorcycle in front of a lovely wooden house in the middle of the woods.

Both of you arrived at your destination; this time you didn't feel nauseous.

"How do you even know if those rumors are true?" you asked as you got off her motorcycle. Though you had already given her part of what she needed for her trip, you felt like offering more. You wanted to offer her more.

Ellie took back her keys and glanced at you as a smirk formed on her lips. "I guess I'll find out." She didn't care if Himeko was dead or alive, but if the rumors were true, Ellie wanted to be the first person to find Himeko.

She then motioned for you to follow her. "Do you underestimate me or something?"

You walked beside her and climbed the two stairs leading to the porch. "Would you rather I overestimate you?"

"Still better than being underestimated," Ellie smirked at you before knocking on the wooden door. No matter what you say,ellie always had an answer for everything.

The door opened with a creaky sound, revealing a 5'10" man in his forties. He had black hair and hazel eyes and was wearing a simple green button-up shirt and blue denim jeans.

Joel didn't expect to see Ellie bring a girl home. He squinted his eyes at her curiously before telling both of you to come in.

You couldn't tell what the house's usual smell was like since the pizza's aroma was perfuming the whole place. Your stomach growled, and you made sure to keep your mouth shut to avoid drooling.

Ellie introduced you to Joel, who reached out his hand. You shook hands with him and smiled as he said it was nice to meet you.

"You're the one who sells clothes to her? She told me about you. How's your little business going?"

You recognized the same deep voice talking to Ellie on her phone. Joel looked at you curiously; he's always wondered where his money went when he'd give it to Ellie, especially since she spends most of her days outside.

"Ellie’s my only customer, but she's loyal, so it's doing good," you carefully chose your words, remembering you’re known for doing something you're not supposed to. But the fact that Ellie talked about you to a family member warmed your heart; it felt nice to be appreciated by her. "She does think my clothes are underpriced."

Joel glanced at Ellie and sighed like a tired father. It wasn't the first time he had talked about it with Ellie. "I know, she's really bad with the concept of money. I guess she wants to be nice." The way he scratched the back of his neck reminded you of how Ellie would act when nervous. The way they were so similar was so cute!

"Yeah, she got so upset I thought she was going to—" you were about to complain, but guess who cut you off by covering your mouth with her hand.

"Whoa, let's get you cleaned up before you pass out from blood loss," Ellie exaggerated before she took your hand.

Joel's eyes followed Ellie leading you to the bathroom. He smiled to himself; he definitely would not have let you in if it wasn't for the way Ellie was looking at you. It was enough to make his day, knowing someone was able to make her genuinely smile. He hadn't seen it in forever...

☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°

Your cut on your forehead was barely visible and already starting to heal, but that wasn't an excuse for Ellie not to apply a band-aid after cleaning your wound with some alcohol.

Ellie made you sit on the cold edge of her bathtub. But with Ellie so close to you and her fingers touching your face, your body felt warm.

Ellie turned around to grab the band-aid package and started to open it. "sit still and don't move."

"I'm telling you, there's no need to do all that," you said, looking up at her walking in front of you with the band-aid in hand. She didn't listen to you anyway. It was her chance to take care of you, and she wasn't going to let it slip. "you know, you'd be like the kind of doctor that asks if they can remove unnecessary organs during surgery and then removes a whole kidney."

"you can survive with one," Ellie shrugged her shoulders.

"but there's no such thing as an unnecessary organ."

Ellie saw your point and nodded so you would stop making fun of her so she could start putting on the band-aid.

"alright, now shut up 'cause your forehead moves when you talk. I don't want to mess this up," Ellie ordered. She looked down at you, meeting your eyes—her biggest distraction. "close your eyes."

"I can't see if you're doing it right with my eyes closed," you said, instead of admitting you liked looking at her focused face. You were enjoying this as much as she was.

"I'm not going to draw a dick on your face, chill," Ellie's chuckle made you roll your eyes before you closed them. You made a mental note to sleep with at least one eye open if you stayed over.

Ellie removed the strips and carefully applied the band-aid on your small cut. Her fingers, usually clenched into fists to throw punches, touched your face as if it were made of porcelain.

Her lips curved into a smile when she saw no sign of pain and instead, your lips forming a smile as well. They were a bit chapped, and she wondered how many kisses it would take to make them soft again.

You were making it hard for her to be a lesbian. You were just sitting in front of her, looking pretty so effortlessly, listening to her, and letting her take care of you.

She wanted to punch herself and knock some sense into her for falling for you so easily and so fast. Her heart was so big,with so much room for love but it could hardly handle any rejection.

The only thing she could do was give love.

Give and hope that you would take it.

She didn't want to stop removing her fingers yet. She applied a bit of pressure on the band-aid to help it stick and finally removed them so as not to seem clingy.

You finally opened your eyes and stood up to look in the large mirror in front of you. You thanked Ellie, who smiled at you.

"if you know that much about medicine, I have to ask you something," Ellie said, maintaining eye contact. "are you a surgeon?"

You didn't know what was happening inside her mind, but her flirtiness was back. "obviously,why?" you said, playing along.

Ellie liked that you played along.Even though you were good at talking back when flirting, she hoped to see your demeanor change to a more shy and flustered attitude." She walked closer to you and swiftly took your hand, placing it on her chest while maintaining eye contact, hoping to capture your flustered face. "because I think you stole my heart."

She rolled her eyes when she caught you laughing instead. "I can feel something beating, though."

You were making her weak. "I meant because my heart skips a beat every time I see you," Ellie spoke quickly, struggling to keep her eyes on yours.

She noticed her little mistake and felt embarrassed. You thought it was cute the way she tried to keep flirting despite completely losing her composure.

You tilted your head. "did you practice saying this to me or something?" you asked with a curious tone, but you knew the answer anyway. You smiled at her, making her face feel hot. You counted, and it took three seconds for her whole face to turn red.

Once again, despite her efforts, she struggled to make you lose your composure while you effortlessly made her flustered. "alright, fuck, can I redo it?"

☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°

The pizza was a little cold, so Ellie decided to heat it up in the oven. You were beside her in the kitchen when you were surprised by a little friend.

" 'sup, mars? you're hungry too?" Ellie crouched down to gently pat the white cat's head, who purred in response.

Her fur looked so soft. She was looking at Ellie with her beautiful eyes. Even though you and Ellie had opposite tastes, you could understand why she fell for this cute cat.

Noticing how you were standing still, admiring her beautiful pet, Ellie stopped petting her and removed her hand. "you can pet her," she smiled reassuringly before taking your hand again.

You crouched down and patted Mars's head gently. The cat purred, seeming to enjoy it as much as you did.

"careful, she bites a lot," Ellie warned. The look of fear on your face as you quickly removed your hand made her laugh so hard. "man, I was just playing with you. look at her, she's so cute. she wouldn't even hurt a fly, unlike...some people."

"don't be surprised if I stop trusting you," you retorted.

Ellie felt like melting, seeing how adorable the entire reaction was. The sight of someone she loves bonding with her pet made her even more in love.

You played with Mars's face and couldn't stop giggling at the sounds she was making. Ellie grimaced in jealousy

You asked Ellie if you could hold Mars, but got her refusal in response. "you're stealing her from me already?" Ellie smirked. She didn’t expect Mars to love you after just a few pats.

"she looks like she doesn’t mind," you said, continuing to pat her head. You wanted to hold her like a baby.

"well, let's ask her then," Ellie became serious again.

You just met her cat, and you wanted to make Mars yours already? She wasn’t going to let that happen just like she let you steal her heart. She took Mars carefully and walked towards the back of the room before putting her down.

Mars was now sitting four meters away from both you and Ellie, cleaning herself and not paying any attention to either of you.

You laughed as you looked at Ellie. Her plan didn’t seem to work like she wanted since the cat wasn’t even budging. "Look at her doing her toilet after you touched her."

Ellie nudged your arm playfully. "I washed my hands before putting the pizza in the oven, shut up." Ellie turned her attention back to her cat while you kept laughing.

Satisfied and feeling clean, Mars stopped grooming herself. Her eyes lingered on both of you, but sadly, neither of you got to mâle her crawl in your direction since Joel called out Mars to go eat. He poured the kibble in her dish, instantly attracting Mars to him.

Both you and Ellie looked at each other disappointedly, but Ellie wasn’t done competing with you yet.☆°☆°•☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°

"If there was an eating pizza contest instead of the spicy one..." Ellie said after taking a big bite of her pizza slice.

Both you and Ellie sat across from each other, around the kitchen table, with the smell of the pizza perfuming the entire room.

"oh my god, you're still talking about this?" your tone dripping with exasperation.

"yeah, it was rigged. I don't know what kind of spice they put in, but that stuff got my tongue numb. I couldn't even feel it after eating," Ellie complained to you.

"just admit it's the first time you ate something spicy."

Ellie took another big bite of her pizza before quickly swallowing it.

She stood up and quickly went to the kitchen, returning with two big plates of pizza. Her eyes were burning with competition as she handed you one plate and sat next to you with hers in hand. "I want a rematch."

Now that she thought about it, every single time she wanted to impress you, it always resulted in you impressing her instead. Whether it was eating spicy food or playing pachinko, you'd always win so effortlessly. If you lived back in the 18th century, she would have definitely accused you of being a witch. "first one who finishes their pizza slice wins."

You raised your eyebrow at Ellie. "wins what? I'm not putting my heart and soul into this just for another ride on your motorcycle." The pizza you had looked really tasty, and you wondered if you could eat all of it or if your appetite would give out.

"then you'll get that if you lose," Ellie smirked maliciously. She wasn't playing anymore. Her eyes showed no mercy; she wasn't just looking at you like a friend but like one of her gang's opponents.

After counting down from three, both you and Ellie tried to eat as fast as possible. Ellie gathered all the determination she had since the first time she competed against you. She ate her pizza like there was no tomorrow.

Your eyes lingered on Ellie and then on your pizza slice. The look of determination in her eyes made you want to win too, but something in you wanted to let her seize this chance to impress you.

Three minutes were enough for Ellie to finish her entire pizza. The sight of you still eating made her smile proudly.

She finally achieved something she had been desperately trying to do for days.

It didn't seem impossible to beat you at something anymore; you weren't as invincible as she used to think. However, there was still something she wanted to win from you.

You gave Ellie a disappointed face, but deep down, you couldn't care less that you lost. It was a win-win for you.

In fact ,you dont mind losing to her once again, just to see her happy smile.

☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°

Ellie wasn't that stupid; she could read you like an open book now. You'd effortlessly win against her in most games, but she saw how you purposely let her win.

Though she wished you'd make it harder for her to win, she didn't feel insulted. It was rather the opposite. "how about you just do whatever I want for the rest of the night?" Ellie's tone was suggestive, but you truly didn't have a choice.

Was it too soon for her to make a move?

She tried flirting, but even when you wouldn't exactly flirt back, you'd still get her flustered.

She tried to impress you again but wasn't that satisfied.

The night was still long. There was no sign of boredom or tiredness on your face, which was already a good sign.

"depends on what you have in mind," you said, pushing back your plate, too full to eat any more. You sighed as you leaned back on the couch, giving Ellie time to think about what she wanted.

But Ellie's mind was freezing. There were so many things she wanted to do, to say, to show... her mind could hardly slow down.Taking things slow would surely get her what she wanted fast.

"it wasn't a suggestion," Ellie smirked at your sass, reminding you that she had won against you. "How about you carry me bridal style to my room?"

It was since that moment, when you did anything Ellie asked, that Ellie's delusions were fed. The map was written, and it didn't take long for you to find what she thought she'd perfectly kept secret: her heart.

The way you didn't hesitate to occasionally massage her shoulders when she'd complain about them being sore. Her eyes practically begging for you to take care of her like she did for you earlier. You asking if you were doing it right was enough to drive her crazy. She'd nod and tell you to keep going while pretending to focus on the TV.

Or when you'd paint her nails black carefully, her hand on your thigh as you held one finger, making sure the polish wouldn't get on her skin. Her hand was so cold to the touch, but it had warmed up when you applied another 'coat.' Ellie's heart was filled with so much warmth she swore it could make the whole Atlantic melt.

"you like it?" you asked, interrupting Ellie's thoughts. She realized she'd been looking at you the whole time when you faced her.

She wondered if you liked doing this as much as she did. The way you took care of her so lovingly made her forget she was the one who ordered you to do this in the first place. But even if you were just following her orders, no sign of unhappiness was shown on your face. That was enough to give Ellie hope.

Her nails looked beautifully painted with no polish outside the lines.

"it's not so bad," Ellie said, not wanting to admit she loved it. She put her hands on her thighs, letting her nails dry.

The wind, bringing in coldness as it came through the window, made you look outside, noticing the brilliant full moon above the trees.

With no city lights chasing away the darkness, all the stars in the sky could shine brightly. Ellie knew the perfect spot to spend time looking at them. She'd start to stargaze every time insomnia hit her, staying because she liked how small it made her feel.

After asking if you were tired, her eyes dropped from your face to your shivering body; you easily feared the cold. But you stopped shivering once you felt Ellie's jacket over your shoulders. You wanted to tell her you didn't need it, but her lovely smile shut you up.

With no words exchanged besides glances, Ellie softly took your hand again before leading you out of her room, your fingers interlocked as you walked up the staircase leading to the roof.

After a few minutes of Ellie going back and forth to the house, you were finally settled, both of you sitting on a thin blanket, unbothered by the cold night breeze. Even at the sight of the two bowls of snacks, you didn't get hungry, too focused on the stars and the peace you felt.

It's true that you never truly paid attention to the stars at night because you'd mostly spend that time sleeping, listening to leaves dancing with the wind and the owls continuously hooting. Tonight was different; the beautiful stars did a good job of taking your breath away.

Ellie felt it again, the warmth enveloping her heart, contrasting with the cold breeze. Her eyes noticed your amazed ones gazing up at the stars; you were experiencing the same feeling she'd get when stargazing alone. No words were needed for her to understand that you enjoyed this moment. She smiled to herself, realizing how easy it was to put sparkles in your eyes.

Did you naturally enjoy the same things as her, or was it the fact that you were spending time with her that made you start to like the same things she did?

Either way, it made Ellie fall for you even more, and she hoped that this special moment made you feel the same way. But if her hope turned out to be useless, she would take action and make you fall for her.

You laid down more comfortably while keeping your eyes on the stars. Ellie followed you and scooted next to you. Her eyes were also fixated on the stars, but you could tell she was lost in her thoughts when you looked at her.

After a few minutes of silence, Ellie broke it. "did you know that when you look at the stars, you're actually looking back in time?" She turned her head to face you, the moonlight illuminating your face just right.

"isn't it because of the time it takes for the light to reach us or something?"

Ellie smiled. You were the only person who would let her ramble about the things she was passionate about. "yeah, the light from the closest star takes over four years to reach us, and light from more distant stars can take thousands or even millions of years to get here."

Never in your life would you have thought your knowledge would be expanded by a gangster, but with Ellie, you learned to expect anything from her. Maybe it was also why you were always curious about her.

"I guess time machines have competition," you said, making Ellie laugh shortly. You couldn't deny it: it was pleasing to hear her softly laughing at your jokes, even when you weren't purposely funny. Something about it made you want to hear more.

Ellie looked at you, still lying down next to her. She wanted to tell you something, but every time she opened her mouth, only uncontrollable laughs came out. You smiled, trying to contain your own laugh, but the sight of her struggling to tell her joke was too hilarious. You put your hand on her shoulder to shake her a little. "come on, what's so funny?"

Ellie tried to calm herself down. She inhaled deeply while closing her eyes. "nothing, I was just... thinking about something stupid."

You sat up, still keeping your eyes on hers. You were used to her stupid jokes. "just tell me man," your voice desperate to hear her joke. It was her chance to make you laugh too.

"you're picking up my phrases," Ellie noted. She smiled proudly, still teasing you by not saying what was making her laugh earlier. You pushed her shoulder slightly, inviting her to let it out.

"ok,fine,it's the story of an elephant and a camel..." Ellie tried her best to control her shaky voice, but you already laughing didn't help. "you're not even letting me start"

You covered your mouth and bit your lip not to let out another laugh and listened to her.

Ellie took another breath before continuing, keeping her eyes on you. "so the elephant asks the camel, 'Why do you have boobs on your back?' The camel replies, 'I don't know; at least I don't have a dick on my face.'" Ellie's voice progressively pitched up before she exploded with laughter, making you laugh even harder.

You wondered how she came up with something so out of pocket.

The tears streaming down your face as you held your stomach made her smile in victory. She made sure to capture this moment in her memory and hoped that moments like these would never stop.

☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°

Though Ellie found herself not admiring the stars in the sky as much as usual, she still considered looking at you as "stargazing."

Why would she drift her eyes away from you when you were the most beautiful star she had ever seen? All she needed was your word, and she'd create a whole new universe for you.

Your arms were touching as both of you lay down, neither of you moving away. You finally understood why Ellie liked physical touch. Her forearm stole your attention from the stars for a moment. You had never seen her tattoo until now. Ellie always wore her jacket, but now that it was on your shoulders, it was the first time you saw it.

A large moth alongside some plants adorned her arm. You couldn’t help but trace the plants down with your fingers, feeling Ellie's warm skin. You wondered how she was not shivering in the cold outside when you were literally freezing inside.

She hoped you didn't hear her heart pounding so loudly in her chest.

"it's's ferns," Ellie said, looking at you, then at her own tattoo before lifting her forearm up so you could see it better under the moonlight. She pointed at the plants she was talking about.

"is there a meaning behind this?" Your fingers traced lower, around the moth, unforgivingly making Ellie's heart beat faster. Ellie swore it could explode if you kept touching her so softly.

When you asked the meaning of her tattoo, it brought her back to how her relationship with Joel was before she ran away. Until this day, she wished she could go back in time and change the past to make the present better. It was still hard for her to turn the page, to get to the next chapter.

"not much, just something cheesy. You're going to find it cringe."

like it's new? just tell me; I promise I won't judge." You removed your hand, and Ellie lowered her forearm.

Ellie rolled her eyes at your smirk. "fine, it means being drawn to the light. Like when you're in the darkness and totally hopeless... instead of giving up, you should look for the light... some stupid stuff that makes me think of Joel."

You smiled at her thoughtful words. Your eyes finally left her tattoo to look at her embarrassed face. You realized how much this tattoo meant to her. "that's cute... a little bit cheesy, but I like it."

Feeling your persistent gaze on her, she suddenly found the stars more interesting to look at. Her heart was beating happily, no regrets surfacing from telling you something personal.

You were seriously starting to like her flustered reactions, her pupils dilating in the moonlight making her green eyes ten times more mesmerizing, her nervousness making her cheeks turn red and her breath unsteady.

A part of you hoped you were the only person in the world able to make her feel like this.

"Is there something you're bad at?" Ellie cleared her throat. She sat up, trying to take back control of her body, hoping it would make the effects on her go away.

"why do you want to know?"

"just curious." Ellie's eyes gazed at the stars, then at her thighs, not really knowing where to look but still avoiding looking back at you. "I mean, you play pachinko like a pro. Does your dad secretly own a casino or something?"

"If he did, we wouldn't be kicked out. Also, he used to be in a gang. he couldn't even properly hold a gun, so I can't imagine him owning a casino." The idea of your dad owning a casino or just being the head of some big business was too unbelievable; it'd belong in fictional stories.

"your dad? holding guns? what for?"

And so it was your turn to rant, exchanging roles with Ellie. She was carefully listening while you were focsued on talking, casually oversharing to a girl you met this week like she was your best friend. Your trust issues always made you keep quiet, but something told you that trusting Ellie wasn't a mistake.

Everything was told, from your dad's past job as a gangster to your mom who selfishly cheated on him to you selling clothes to sustain your own primary needs (fulfilling your closet of Lolita clothes). It was normal for Ellie to be on your dad's side. She also grew empathy over your grandma, who also played a role in raising you.

She finally understood the real reasons why you refused to join her gang.

You also revealed your successful lying tactics to get money from your dad, which she disagreed with. It was hilarious how a gangster like her thought your tactics crossed the line.

"that's kinda evil."

"he's not at the age when an emotional shock instantly gives you a heart attack... but I stopped lying anyway," you justified. You considered lying okay, but directly stealing your dad's money was beyond your morals.

Ellie raised her eyebrows at you, the moonlight making her green orbs clearly visible. "trust me, if you keep doing this, you're going to be the reason he'll age as fast as the speed of light." Her sarcastic tone still made you think of your actions.

"also, did you know that if he was, by pure luck, thrown in space and stayed one year there away from you, 7071 years would have passed on Earth?" Ellie added. "It's like the ultimate long-distance relationship." A light chuckle escaped from her as she casually switched the conversation to drop a joke about the theory of relativity, making you wonder how she even had so much knowledge.

You were the only person she liked telling stupid jokes to.

Ellie laughed even more at your confused face. "I'm not making this up; it's true. To be able to make a time machine, it has to go as fast as the speed of light... Einstein said it." Ellie's eyes pierced through yours to make you believe her words.

"nerd."

"got a problem with nerds?" Ellie retorted, faking being offended.

"why'd you take it as an insult?" you clapped back as your eyes met hers.

Ellie turned her eyes from your lips forming a smile to the sky again. "because you said it like it was an insult."

"I have nothing against nerds," you reassured Ellie, stealing a last glance at her before copying her and looking at the sky as well. The dark blue hues coloring the sky enhanced the shining stars beautifully, like Ellie entering your boring life out of nowhere even though you didn't ask. You'd be lying if you said she wasn't making you feel things.

Your heart beating a little bit faster, being unable to retain your smile, and your eyes getting lost in admiration. These were familiar feelings you'd get from buying Lolita clothes, but unfamiliar feelings towards people. You didn't know what words to put on this feeling. Yes, it was love, but it was only platonic, right?

But you certainly knew that you enjoyed whatever was going on between you two a little too much.

If there was a shooting star, you'd wish for this night to be eternal.

"you better," ellie muttered because she was not done ranting to you about space. Not only for this night but hopefully forever,she hoped youll always stick by her side no matter what.

Unfortunately,no matter how much time and effort Ellie would put into learn about the universe, a lot of mysteries remained unfolded. "you still didn't answer my question, though."

You didn't even realize you dodged Ellie's question as you talked. There were many things you were bad at, gave up trying to learn, and never tried before.

After answering her,you caught Ellie smirking mischievously before she put M&M's in her mouth, munching as she went back to her room. You stayed on the roof as she told you to.

Hearing a loud 'bump' followed by a 'shit', you turned your head. Ellie walked back to you, holding a guitar with one hand and soothing her head with the other.

"you know we can just go back—" you looked up at her as she put her guitar down.

"no, it's fine, there's no one else around," Ellie said, sitting down next to you before softly strumming her guitar.

"just us." Ellie smiled at you while tuning her guitar to standard.

You didn’t know why, but you looked away from her eyes as your lips curved into a smile too. Feeling like you would explode if you kept looking at her, instead, your eyes drifted to the moth on her guitar.

The same moth on her tattoo was drawn next to the soundhole. Ellie told you Joel made it for her for her latest birthday. You didn't know much about Joel, but you knew enough to assume he truly cared about Ellie.

Ellie tried to calm herself down; her palms were sweating, and her hands slightly shaking. Even though she wasn’t showing off to a big public, she was still nervous playing in front of you.

"do you want me to play something?" was all Ellie managed to say. She realized she should have been careful with what she asked. "vesides classical music, I'm not into that choir and orchestral stuff as you can see."

"I don't only listen to that," you rolled your eyes at her statement. Classical music was certainly your favorite genre, but with indie and jazz, your music taste was hardly limited to one genre. "do you know Lamp?" You weren't surprised to see her nodding in refusal. It was your turn to make her discover your interest.

After making her listen to 'For Lovers' by the band with your MP3 player, Ellie picked up her guitar and started to learn how to play the song.

Her finding the right chords just from listening to the song over and over again easily impressed you.

You didn't pick any random song; it was one of your favorites, and listening to it felt like opening a love letter from someone you love.

Ellie kept practicing, determined to put more stars in your eyes than there were in the sky.

Your eyes drifted from her beautifully focused face to her calloused hands and fingers fingerpicking the strings. You wondered if you were the only one who ever got to see her like this, playing for you. For the first time in your existence, someone made you feel special.

Not clothes but an actual person.

It was so easy for Ellie to hit the right spots in your heart, whether it was from smiling, telling you stupid jokes, or playing this lovely melody.

To make this moment even more magical, a star stole both of your attention; it was brighter than the other ones as it quickly flew across the sky.

Ellie put her guitar aside, taking time to appreciate the uncommon scenery in her eyes.

It was in this moment that things like grabbing your hand and squeezing it made you melt in love.

There was clearly nothing platonic about this moment, you thought.

Ellie’s eyes didn't leave the star until it was out of sight, still holding your hand.

"did you make a wish?" Ellie whispered as she turned to look at you, feeling all giddy inside.

She wasn't nervous to look into your eyes; she wanted to see every single reaction, she wanted to see if she had an effect on you.

Her eyes bore into yours, trying to read your mind, trying to act as if she wasn't desperate to kiss your lips at this moment.

"as if I'll tell you."

Like treasures locked inside chests, both of you kept what turned out to be the same secret.

°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆☆°☆°☆

You didn't want the sun to rise too soon, making the stars disappear, outshined by the moon.

You didn't want this night to end too soon.

A storm suddenly struck, and rain poured heavily outside, so you and Ellie got back into her room before your clothes could soak. Ellie suggested you stay overnight, to which you agreed.

With the sound of rain hitting the windows in vain, you changed into Ellie’s clothes for sleeping after she brought you to the bathroom.

You could hear Ellie practicing the song you recommended from her room, and you couldn't help but feel touched.

She was getting better and would soon perform just for you.

You smiled as you finished putting on her black sweatpants, her dialogue replaying in your mind.

"what's wrong, scared you won't look cute in those?" Ellie had teased, holding out her large black tee and black sweatpants, which looked so comfy to sleep in.

"no," you rolled your eyes at her teasing, "I was just wondering if you were okay with me wearing your stuff."

Ellie loved your reaction. She was convinced you’d look cute in her clothes. It wasn’t hard convincing you, but if she was you,she knew she wouldn't be able to pull off your frilly dresses as well as you. Ellie found you so mesmerizing that she was persuaded you'd look good in anything. "as long as you don’t have fleas on you, it’s fine."

Your lips curved into a smile as you looked at yourself in the mirror, but Ellie’s smile was bigger when she saw you walking back to her room.

She was so happy just matching clothes with you.

After Joel shouted for Ellie to stop playing the guitar at 1 a.m., both of you slipped under the warm covers, giggling and talking until you fell asleep.

In just one day, you had already made so many memories, each too precious to forget.

And in just a few days, you bonded with someone you never thought you’d like in your life.

Ellie lay still on her back beside you, looking at the ceiling, trying her best not to seem awkward. With you so close, her heart was flooding with love, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time. S

he didn’t want a single second to go to waste; otherwise, she’d feel miserable. So instead of sleeping, she stayed up with you.

You were lying on your side, admiring her profile while Ellie kept her eyes averted. Suddenly, you thought about the first day you met her and how you had successfully scammed her. Ellie was really smart, and it was surprising she hadn’t seen through your scam. Something told you she might have heard of your father getting caught for selling fake luxury clothes.

"what would you do if I told you the clothes I sold you were fake?" you asked, already anticipating all the ways she could respond. The worst she could do was end your friendship.

Ellie huffed and turned to look at you in the eyes, "I’d probably drag you with me and lock you in my basement, leaving you there until you die of hunger and boredom."

You scanned for any sign of playfulness, but to your surprise, Ellie actually looked serious. Even though both of you became friends afterward, it would still count as a betrayal for lying to her. When Ellie leaned into you with a serious look on her face, you instantly regretted saying this, not even knowing what pushed you to reveal it in the first place.

She tilted her head to the side. "don’t tell me you’re actually being for real?" Her voice was low with a hint of curiosity, slightly threatening you to tell the truth.

You felt her warm breath hitting your face. You tried to keep eye contact, but something drew your attention to her lips.

A small red crumb of M&M's was on the corner of her lips.

Ellie noticed where your eyes were lingering, and her cheeks instantly turned as red as the M&M.

"um, you have something here," you said, pointing at your own lips so she could mirror you and take it off.

The sight of the crumb staying there despite how many times she wiped her lips made you laugh softly.

"don’t change the subject," Ellie said, keeping her eyes on yours as she kept wiping her lips, still missing the crumb.

"it's still there," you sighed at her struggle, wondering if she was doing it on purpose. You reached your hand towards her lips to help her.

Ellie caught your wrist to stop you, her eyes boring into yours, still waiting for you to explain yourself.

You unconsciously licked your lips, and with her strong grip and lingering gaze, you were slightly scared at first, but the smirk forming on her face was enough to make your stomach flip uncontrollably.

Even if she tried to seem serious, it turned you on more than anything.

Your eyes drifted from the crumb to her kissable lips, and your heartbeat quickened as your imagination went wild.

How would it feel to be pinned by her?

How would her lips feel against yours?

You also wondered.

How would Ellie kiss you?

All of those unusual questions occupied your mind without answers, driving you crazy. Ellie was driving you crazy.

As much as you wanted her to pin you down and release the tension, the urge to finally tell her you scammed her and not keep any more secrets made you speak up. "okay, fine, it’s true."

You apologized sincerely, hoping Ellie would forgive your dishonest act. If you were her, you'd definitely feel betrayed and question your friendship, but to your surprise, Ellie’s face curved into a goofy smile before she laughed out loud.

It was a lighthearted laugh.

Her unexpected reaction absolutely flabbergasted you.

She was just playing with you all this time.

Ellie never knew she could seem that scary, and it secretly filled her with pride.

Ellie gently released your grip.

"I knew it," Ellie laughed, still keeping her eyes on you. She knew about you and your father's doings from the beginning.

Though your intuition was right, it didn't stop the feeling of shock from washing over you.

"why’d you buy my clothes then?" your voice was filled with curiosity and incomprehension.

"you know, I was actually surprised you’d let me walk into your house just like that," Ellie's lips formed a smirk, a malicious one. "uou made everything a lot easier for me, and you had no idea what I was planning to do." Ellie looked at you, trying to make you guess by yourself.

It is only now that you realized how naive you were. The more you talked with Ellie, the more stupid you felt.

With the malicious tone in her voice, it was evident Ellie did have bad intentions, stalking your dad to your house.

"just say it. I’m too tired for this."

"don't like guessing games, hm?"

"you wanted to bomb my entire house?"

"what? no, come on, you're a smart girl."

Your mind replayed the first day you met Ellie. She was just another stupid gangster to you, someone who’d get into useless fights and an outlaw who would do anything they wanted just for money. "I guess stealing my clothes so you could resell them to people who’ve never heard of my dad's scandal? I dont think reselling them in Tokyo is a g--"

Ellie shot you a proud smile. "yeah, I know, but it's not the reason why I gave up. With your grandma acting like a literal control tower, I couldn’t try anything."

She still bought the black jacket because she needed it and couldn’t find any other shops that would satisfy her demands.

At this very moment, you’ve never felt so grateful to have your grandma guarding your house. "thank God. I hope you fail miserably again at your next try."

Ellie nodded. "stealing is not fun. I stopped after helping find your bag. I’m sorry."

Her eyes showed pure honesty. You finally admitted lying to her, and Ellie stopped being troublesome.

In the end, everything turned out fine.

"It's okay... can you also say how much of a good influence I am?" You smiled at her, and she smiled back.

"you're into praises?"

"I'm not giving you the answer to that. you're a smart girl."

"you—oh my God, you could have told me earlier, and here I thought I only had to play guitar to make you all shy and flustered." Ellie looked at you with exaggeratedly unbelievable eyes.

You rolled your eyes at her, okay with admitting your lies but not with admitting you have a soft spot for her. "you played horribly."

"don't act like I didn't see you drooling over me." Ellie didn’t miss your adorable gaze on her when she was playing; that's when she knew she already had you wrapped around her finger.

"don't act like I didn't catch you staring at me all night." You also didn’t miss how persistent Ellie’s loving glances were. You were used to getting stares while walking in public, and at first, it would bother you. But you surely knew that you grew fond of having Ellie’s eyes on you, filled with admiration.

It did take a long time for both of you to finally fall asleep. Conversing this much for this long was unusual for you and took a bit of your energy, but it didn't mean you didn't like talking with Ellie.

You fell asleep first, laying on your side as you used your hands as a pillow. Your soft hums and breaths were like a melodic lullaby to Ellie’s ears.

Despite rambling about everything and anything all night, there was still a lot she didn't say.

Like telling you she wished you’d called her that day she hadn’t seen you at all. That even if she was busy, she'd spare some time exclusively for you.

That day passed like a month to her, and she really missed you.

Ellie let herself fall asleep facing you, hopeful to wake up to your adorable face.

She fell into a restless sleep, dreaming about you and all the wholesome things she wished she could have done with you this night.