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thisapplepielife · 3 months

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Written for @steddie-week.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Steve dials the number messily scrawled on the scrap of paper. He’s nervous. He’s always nervous when he has to stick his neck out and make a move on a girl these days.

Yeah, he did the first bit of legwork and got her number out at the bar last night. But he's fumbled the ball and failed enough times, Robin's loving, but accurate, "you suck" burned in his brain, that he's always leery to try again. He should be used to it by now, but it’s still uncomfortable and awkward, every goddamn time. If his friends weren't all fretting about his emotional well-being from being so terminally alone, he wouldn’t put forth half the effort anymore.

He has Robin. He has his cat. He's happy.

It rings three times before he hears it connect, “Hello?”

It’s a man’s voice, and he hesitates for just a moment, “I’m looking for, uh, Lyla?”

“Sorry, man. Wrong number.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misdialed,” Steve says, a different kind of embarrassment. But this is one he can handle easier, for sure. So he pushed the wrong button somewhere along the way. His eyesight isn't the best thing he's got going for him.

“No worries, man,” the other guy laughs, seemingly carefree about being bothered.

They each disconnect and then Steve reads, and re-reads, the number before dialing again. More carefully this time.

It rings only once before it’s connected.

“Still me, dude,” the familiar voice relays, still light and friendly.

“Wow. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I was given a fake number. That's embarrassing,” Steve laughs, because this is more embarrassing than misdialing. He's uncomfortable and mortified to admit that this girl just didn't want him to call her. Even if he's only admitting it to a stranger.

She should have just told him no. He hates that she didn't, for her sake, too.

“Shitty move,” the other guy answers.

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I bothered you. Again. I promise to cross-check any future numbers against yours before dialing, just in case.”

The guy laughs, "Well, now. Don't go to any trouble for my sake. Honestly,” and he doesn't sound put-out at all, “don’t worry about it. She clearly didn’t have the balls to just, be, like, honest. That sucks.”

Steve laughs, maybe if she'd had balls this wouldn't have happened at all. Most men feel more comfortable just saying no, he thinks, which is sad but true. He swings both ways, and maybe he should take this as a sign to lean the other way for a while. See if that works out any better for him.

It probably won't, but he could try.

“There goes my big weekend plans,” Steve teases, uncertain why he does it, even as the words tumble out of his mouth. He needs to hang up the phone and let this guy get back to his own life.

“Dude. That's a problem I can solve. I’m gigging tonight. You have to come. Let me entertain you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Whatever. I want to. Just show up. It’ll be a great story, will it not?”

It would be a great story. One he could even tell Robin to convince her he’s living a little, “I don’t even know your name. What if you’re a serial killer or something?”

“Yep, that’s me. Vicious killer,” the guy laughs, “I’m Eddie, man. And I’m a fucking ball to be around. You’ll want to take me up on this awesome offer. We’ll all be down at Hellfire Club around eight. Show up. If you think we’re murderous, you don’t have to follow us to any secondary, secluded locations.”

Hellfire Club is literally two blocks from Steve’s apartment. He's been past it countless times, but never inside. It's always dark. Like it's not even open, making him unsure about what kind of bar it is, it's so nondescript from the outside. Not to mention the name is a little intimidating. He'd half-convinced himself it's a BDSM club.

But, now that he's been invited, he could just walk down and see what’s the what, “How will I know which guy you are?”

Eddie laughs, “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Steve has a hard time trusting anyone new these days, but Eddie seems friendly enough.

Steve realizes he must have been quiet for too long, because Eddie starts talking again.

“I’ll have on a badass battle vest. Look for that. You'll see me. It's impossible not to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, even if he’s not sure what a battle vest even is.

“Now, are you going to tell me your name, or will that just be a surprise?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, “Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve stands in front of his closet for far too long, trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look too nerdy. He assumes Eddie's cool. He sounded cool, and Steve may have been cool in high school, but these days he just keeps his head down and goes through life, content to be fairly unnoticed. He finally settles on a black t-shirt. Basic, classic. Timeless.

Boring.

But that's a risk he's willing to take.

He walks down the street slowly and arrives around eight-thirty. The windows are still all blacked out, tinted to the point he can't see anything inside. There's just the neon sign with the Hellfire Club over the door.

When he pulls open the door, he's in a hallway that's painted all black, with a bouncer at the end, stationed at a door. Steve kind of wants to turn around, flee, but he doesn't. He's already here. He might as well at least see. Robin will kill him if he chickens out.

He gives his ID to the bouncer, and is directed down a staircase. He really hopes this isn't a sex club.

It's not.

And as soon as he crosses the threshold into the bar, yes, he knows Eddie instantly. He’s gotta be the one on the bar, pouring shots directly into various mouths. Steve knows he could turn around right now and this adventure could end. But watching Eddie laughing and prancing up and down the bar with flourish, clearly having fun, makes Steve want to go up and meet this guy.

Steve takes an open seat at the end of the bar, kind of out of the way, and just watches Eddie work the crowd.

The bar is blaring It's Raining Men and Eddie is playing up the song, big time. He's not a stripper, at least Steve doesn't think he is, but he's working the crowd for tips, absolutely. He keeps handing them down to a curly-headed guy, who keeps stuffing them into an overflowing jar.

Steve's pretty sure this is a gay club, or at least queer friendly. Maybe he has found a place for himself, something that's been right here under his nose, all this time.

When Eddie finally jumps down off the bar, Steve watches him work the rest of the room.

The other guy comes over and takes Steve's order, and he doesn't quite have the same flourish, but he's efficient and confident with a bottle and jigger.

"Name for the tab?" he asks, shaking the drink Steve had picked from the list.

"Steve," Steve says, and the guy looks up and meets his eyes.

Surely not. This doesn't feel like this is Eddie. He is wearing a vest, a red plaid one, but the other guy also has a denim vest on, full of patches.

"Eddie?" Steve questions, needing to make sure.

"Gareth," the guy says, "that's Eddie," he clarifies, pointing at the one Steve had correctly clocked as Eddie to begin with. "You're his wrong number guy, right?"

Steve nods. He supposes that's what he is, "Yeah. That's me. Loser in love."

Gareth laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"That's our specialty here, you'll feel right at home," Gareth teases.

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll tell him you're here," Gareth assures, "he wasn't sure you'd come."

"That makes two of us," Steve admits, and Gareth smiles as he finishes shaking Steve's drink, putting it down in front of him.

"On the house. First-timers to Hellfire drink free," Gareth says, and then he's walking away.

Steve's eyes follow Gareth across the bar, watching as he taps Eddie on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear, pointing right at Steve.

Eddie looks, meets his eyes, and Steve raises his hand, giving him a small, little wiggle of his fingers.

A huge smile spreads across Eddie's face as he bounds in Steve's direction.

Eddie's quickly right in his personal space, squeezing both of Steve's shoulders, greeting him with a smile, "Welcome to Hellfire."

Steve smiles, liking the feeling of Eddie's hands bleeding through his t-shirt, warming him.

Eddie lets go, and Steve misses the feeling already, but Eddie stays. Sliding onto the stool next to Steve, "I'm glad you came."

And Steve's completely honest as he answers, "Me too."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you're too young to remember it, reach out and touch someone was the slogan/jingle for Bell System telephone company back in the day. So, that's where the title comes from, as a play on the wrong number phone call trope.

#steddieweek2024 #day seven #free space #wrong number trope #meet cute #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #steddieweek #steddie #thisapplepielife: steddieweek #thisapplepielife: short fic

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lovecla · 17 days

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IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter six:

➴ warnings: none!!

➴ word count: 4.1k

➴ author’s note: thought it’d be great to give u guys jack’s pov please don’t kill me—or jack. also wanna say thank you to each one of you who take the time to read this series and give me your thoughts abt it. i cannot thank you enough. pls be patient with jacky, he’s just a boy :p nice reading yall!!!

sophiamontenegro

liked by billboard, trevorzegras, charlieputh and 1,972,022 others.

sophiamontenegro ‘rip to my feelings’ is out now 🪄 i want to start this by saying thank you to everyone who helped me make this dream of mine come true.

all of the songs here mean the world to me, and i truly hope they help to heal some of you, like they healed me.

please, don’t let anyone make you feel like you don’t deserve good things. you do, all of us do.

thank you grace, thank you john, thank you hannah, thank you to all of you. 🤍

View all 78,728 comments

charlieputh 💙

morgan.grace I love you so much I might turn into a puddle. Soph, you’re one of the strongest, sweetest people I’ve ever met and I’m so grateful to call you my best friend. I watched you put so much effort and energy into this, and i am proud. Happy RTMF day 🪦

billboard I am crying, you’re crying, all of us are crying.

lovssoph i knew this was going to hurt but DAMN Girl what the hell

laurenahser it’s been hours and I’m still crying because of this goddamn music video. And i HATE charlie puth

jesy.iowu @laurenahser NO GIRL BC SAME?? it’s so SAD

sophsecret Harris Dickinson if i fucking catch you on the streets you’re DONE

paula.west off topic but do you guys think any of these songs were written for jack hughes…

chiquitalinda @paula.west honestly no,, soph said this album has been in the making for one year and apparently they just broke up last week?

_quinnhughes Congrats, Soph 👍

sophiamontenegro @_quinnhughes thank u, quinny

ilovehockey @sophiamontenegro @_quinnhughes CHAT WHAT DOES THIS MEAN???

“HUGHES, the hell was wrong with you today?” Keefe’s voice sounded harsh and angry.

Even though there were two Hughes in the team, everyone knew who the coach was referring to.

“It’s just not a good day,” Jack mumbled, removing his uniform and not bothering to look up.

The locker room was dead silent, so everyone heard Keefe’s scoff. “Not a good day? More like not a good week,” he stepped closer, hands on his hips. “You’ve been off for the entire week and let me tell you something, son, we’re not making it to the Finals with you playing like you did tonight.”

Jack wanted to talk back so bad but deep down he knew Coach was right. He had been playing like shit, ever since that night at your house.

You. Just thinking about you made Jack feel like straight up shit. Something that never happened before.

He is handsome, he has thousands of fans. People paid to watch him play, people wore his jersey proudly. He could have any girl he wanted but still. Everything changed at that dinner, six months ago, when he saw you performing up close for the second time.

At that moment, he was mesmerized by you. Back then, he thought he was just horny and in the need of a good fuck but looking back now he knows that it wasn’t just that. It was something bigger than himself, yet something he couldn’t name.

“I get it, Coach,” Jack muttered, putting on his suit.

“I hope you do, kid, otherwise, you can just say goodbye to your NHL career and the Stanley Cup.” Coach barked before getting out of the locker room.

Ignoring the stares he was getting, Jack moved on autopilot, like he’d been doing the entire week, shoving his things inside his duffel bag and frowning.

“Cap, wanna go out and grab some drinks? I wanna get wasted!” Someone, Jack didn’t care to know who, shouted, talking to Nico.

“‘Can’t today, man,” Nico answered, duffel bag already on his shoulder. “I’m going to a concert tonight.”

That caught Jack’s attention, pulling him back from his thoughts.

“Concert?” He asked, looking at how everyone went quiet and stared at Nico. “Whose concert?”

“Well, you see…” Nico stuttered and somehow, even if he hadn’t said anything, Jack knew exactly whose concert it was. “Just. A singer?”

“Yeah, no shit is a singer, Hischier, I thought we went to concerts to watch electricians doing their shit,” Jack bited back, the frown just bigger now. “Whose concert, Cap?” He said the word like he was mocking Nico and even though he wanted to take that back, he didn’t. Nico was an amazing person and it wasn’t his fault you didn’t want anything to do with Jack anymore.

“Hum, well—”

“For fuck’s sake, man, just spit it out,” Bastian said, rolling his eyes. “We’re going to Soph’s concert. Launching party, whatever.”

“We?” Jack’s eyes doubled in size. “Who else is going?”

“She invited the entire team,” Mercer answered, and Jack could swear he was one step away from passing out. “And Zegras.”

“Yeah, the entire team minus you!” Zegras shouted, clearly not reading the room. None of the players said anything about your and Jack’s situationship-break-up but Trevor made it clear he was happy with the situation. “Zegras is out in the hunt again, baby, ‘gonna give Soph the real D!”

Jack didn’t even notice he moved until he felt a heavy hand on his chest, looking down and realising it was Nico’s hand and he was now toe to toe with Trevor.

“Watch the shit you say, Zegras. I’m not fucking with you.” Jack spoke slowly, eyes not leaving Zegras’.

“Like you’re going to do anything, Hughes. You lost the prize, now it’s time for her to know what a real man is.”

Jack stepped foward again, only to be stopped by Nico’s hand.

“She’s not a fucking prize and this is not a fucking game, asshole,” Jack said through his teeth, ready to punch Trevor right there and now.

“How old are you two?” Hischier hissed, separating Jack and Trevor like a dad would do. “Trevor, shut the fuck up and don’t talk about Soph like that. And you,” he looked and Zegras before looking at Jack again. “You can’t and you won’t do shit. You and Sophia aren’t a thing anymore and there’s no one to blame but yourself. Suck it up, Hughes.”

Jack wanted to punch all of them in their fucking faces. It wasn’t his fault! He wasn’t the one who published the article and he wasn’t the one who sent that fucking picture of him and Ava leaving that party.

So what if she was his ex? That was in the past. He didn’t even remember her name, for fuck’s sake. She meant nothing to him while you—

“Whatever,” Trevor shrugged, before leaving the room.

“Hischier,” Jack called before Nico left. He turned back and stared at Jack, eyes tired. Jack felt bad for acting like that and giving even more trouble to Nico but Trevor was a fucking assface. “I need to go to that concert.”

“Unless you have an invitation or a ticket, I can’t take you there, man.” He bit his lips. “I’m sorry, but I won’t do that to Soph.”

Jack hated how Nico was clearly choosing sides and he also hated how he said her name and how everyone seemed very comfortable with calling you Soph but he pretended that he didn’t care.

“I’m not going to talk to her, I just…” his lips formed a straight line. He wasn’t sure of what he wanted exactly, but he needed to see you. Ever since your album had been released, he had been playing it nonstop, trying to memorize every breath you took, every line you sang, every beat you produced. He just needed to see you. “I want to see her.”

“Man, you know I can’t do that. Grace will kill me.”

“I’ll deal with her, Hischier, I swear,” in that moment, Jack was glad everyone else had already left, otherwise it’d be humiliating.

Although he noticed, with shock, that he wouldn’t mind begging in front of people if he got the chance to see you.

Nico ran his hands through his hair, muttering something in German before nodding with his head once.

“Fine, but I swear to God that if you upset Grace or Soph or worse, both,” he got closer to Jack’s body, looking like he did when he was on the ice. Terrifying. “I’ll personally make sure you won’t do that ever again.”

Gulping, Jack nodded once, before following Nico.

— ♡

THE line outside the venue was gigantic, making the men inside the van yell and whistle.

Much to Jack’s dismay, all of the Devils who were your fans had been invited to your concert— except him, of course. Which he thought was really, really shitty, by the way— and they were all excited, wearing shirts with your face on it and holding banners with your name.

Jack had to wear an all black outfit, with a cap hiding his hair and sunglasses. He thought he looked ridiculous but unfortunately, Nico was right: you couldn’t see him. He knew that if you did you’d be upset and the last thing he wanted was to ruin your night and concert. So yeah, hiding himself it is.

They left the van, entering the building from the back entrance, not wanting to cause a commotion out there in the front. Jack had been told this was just a small concert but the place looked packed with people.

“Okay, so,” Nico started, wearing his Captain belt once again. “Grace will be here in a second, and she will give us the VIP necklaces so we can go to our sets,” he turned around, facing Jack. “I honestly don’t know what to do with you. Grace will probably kick you out but at least I did my part.”

Jack just nodded, already thinking of millions excuses he could say to Grace so she would say yes.

True to Nico’s words, Grace showed up not even a minute later, wearing a red, tight dress and heavy makeup. She looked beautiful.

“Hi, fellas!” She walked in, smiling brightly. “Nice seeing you all, Soph will be happy with you being here and— what the fuck are doing here?” Her smile was gone, and now the only thing left was a scowl on her face.

Jack smiled awkwardly.

“Grace, listen, he asked me to bring him here because he wanted to see Soph—” Nico started, only to be interrupted by Grace’s harsh words.

“I don’t give a single fuck, Nico, what the hell!” She was starting to leash out on Hischier so Jack knew he had to say something.

“She’s not going to see me, I promise,” he replied.

Grace laughed. “Of course she isn’t going to see you because you’re going to leave!”

“Grace, come on,” Jack muttered, ready to beg to another person just to see you. Fucking shit. “I can sit in the back, there’s like a thousand people outside. She won’t see me.”

“Baby,” everyone looked at Nico as he approached Grace. Jack frowned. Since when were they together? “I told him that if he did anything bad I’d punch the shit out of him myself. He will behave.”

“I’m not a dog—”

“Fine,” Grace sighed, loudly, already looking like she regretted saying yes. “Nico I swear that if Sophia sees him or if someone takes any pictures of him here, I’ll snatch your dick out of your body.”

All of the men there made an ouch sound, faces amused and terrified. Nico only nodded, after giving Jack the scariest look ever.

Grace gave them their badges and asked for another one for Jack. Everyone there was running around and shouting things, probably all worried about everything being perfect, and Jack found himself smiling because you were surrounded by people who cared about you and your work.

Turns out that sitting in the back really meant sitting in the back, because Grace gave Jack a really shitty seat that despite being small as fuck, had a really good view of the stage, even if it’d be impossible for you to spot him.

Jack’s hands were sweaty and his heart was racing in his chest. The place was packed with all different types of people, from children to adults, and some grandparents here and there.

He was proud. He remembered how excited you were for this album, for this little concert, and watching how you’ve managed to ace all of that, made him smile under his hand.

The rest of his teammates were sitting in the VIP section, really close to the stage, and hell if Hughes didn’t envy them. But he knew this was for the best.

Thirty minutes after he sat down, the lights dimmed and only the stage was on. The screams were so fucking loud and if Jack wasn’t already used to people screaming his ears off during games, he’d probably have a fit right there.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Sophia Montenegro.”

Nothing could ever prepared Jack for the sight of you on that stage. It’d been two weeks since you last saw each other and the last time was awful, his heart hurting every time he remembered the sight of you crying and remembering he was the reason why.

But watching as you stood on top of some kind of platform, wearing a black, glittery body suit, with heels and black, see through socks. Your hair was styled in a way that drove him absolutely crazy, and now he wasn’t so sure that coming to this concert was a good idea after all.

“One year, ten thousand bad moments

But it was dressed up in heated emotion

And I tried to look for the best in the worst

But like, fuck me, that caused a commotion.”

Your voice was perfect, of course it was. Somehow, you knew how to sing live even better than the recorded songs, and your stage presence was out of this world. Jack looked at you as you moved around, singing and dancing and waving at people and interacting with the band, not knowing what to do with the weight on his chest.

He was happy to see you, he really was, happier than he’d felt in this entire week, but fuck if he wasn’t hurt. Watching you from afar was even worse than not watching you at all, because he was reminded again and again that he lost you.

Even if he still thinks it wasn’t exactly his fault.

The crowd was loud, people were dancing here and there and Jack could swear the girl in front of him was crying.

“Oh, you're so vicious

Love me, then pretend you didn't

Crush my heart and wreck my image

Why you gotta be so, so, so

Oh, you're so vicious”

You were sitting in the middle of the stage, microphone in your right hand, singing with your whole heart. Anyone could see how alive you felt whenever you sang and honestly, it was beautiful to witness.

The song continued, and every second Jack was taken aback by how beautiful you were. So fucking beautiful. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen, inside and out, full of life and happiness and joy.

He only noticed that the song had ended when he heard people cheering louder than they were before, and he started to pay attention again.

There you stood, in the middle of the stage, trying to even your breath. You were smiling so hard, cheek to cheek, eyes shining so bright even Jack in his shitty ass seat could see it.

“Hi, guys,” you were out of breath but your voice still sounded like honey to Hughes’ ears, and he had missed the sweetness. So. Much. “Oh my god, there’s so many of you in here, what the hell.”

People laughed, and Jack found himself smiling.

“Hi, I’m Sophia,” you said, shyly, like the people there hadn’t paid to see you. “Thank you for being here, guys. It’s been a while since I last saw you guys face to face. Last time was in Coachella, back in April, right?”

People shouted many things, you smiled.

“So a week ago I released my fifth album, rip to my feelings,” more cheering. “I know the title is corny but I couldn’t find better wording. This album, and I’ve said this countless times, means the world to me,”

“Fuck Harris Dickinson!” Someone shouted and everyone started laughing, including you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you agreed. “I hope you like the show. I’ve also heard that we have some special guests tonight…”

Jack’s heart stopped. For some idiotic reason, he thought you’d say his name. Until he reminded himself that you and him were no longer a thing and you didn’t even know he was there.

“Please, please, please, make some noise for my favorite hockey team, the New Jersey Devils!”

The camera focused on the fifteen men sitting on the VIP section, who got out of their seats and started shouting, while showing off their merch, making the other people cheer too.

Jack knew he shouldn’t, but he felt jealous all the same. He should be there, cheering for you and kissing you in front of all of them. Maybe punching Zegras in the face while he was at it too.

“Thank you for coming, guys,” you smiled again, before you started singing the next song.

Jack was mesmerised with you for the next hour and a half. How you danced, how you sang, how you twirled around, how you looked so fucking gorgeous in that tight outfit. How your eyes shined, how your body was perfect, and how he wanted nothing more than you.

The concert went well, like everyone knew it would, you making yourself comfortable, and at home: talking with your fans, taking pictures with them, handing the mic to some of them, who sang awfully in Jack’s humble opinion. Even if the majority of the songs were sad and soul crushing, you made sure people enjoyed themselves.

You were a true sight.

“Now, this is going to be the last song,” some sad oooh’s were heard and you smiled, nodding with your head. “I know, I know, I’m sad too but you all have to go home and these people here,” you pointed at the band behind you. “Also have to go home. But,” you raised your finger, moving your body until you were sitting on the edge of the stage. Some of your fans shouted. “I have one more song for you. This one isn’t in the album because I wrote this recently, but I still want to show it to you guys.”

More cheers, more shouts, more people crying.

“This one’s called Bad for Business and will be available on all streaming platforms by midnight.” Jack watched as you smiled, making him raise and eyebrow. He didn’t know about this one.

“He's good for my heart but he's bad for business

Tears me apart when he grants my wishes

All of my friends think I've gone crazy

But they don't know me like my baby

We look good in photographs

I like the way you like to laugh at dirty jokes

I know they'll always land

Used to get work on time

But now you're taking up my nights

Never been so glad to be so tired

Ooh, I'm mad for you

It's sad but true and I know it

Ahh, you're on my mind

You stole my life and it's showin’…”

Jack couldn’t take his eyes off the stage, eating up every word. He knew this song was about him. It was as clear as day, and maybe he was just being cocky but he didn’t care. It meant that he still had a chance.

He's good (good), it's bad (bad)

The best I've ever had (best I've ever had)

And he's so nice, it's sad (it's sad)

He ruined all my plans

And he just makes me so crazy

I know everyone sees

That he'll be the death of me

He still had a chance. He could still try because it was clear: you were still in love with him. Why else would you sing this? Why else would you write something like this?

He got up, he had seen enough. He left the venue with his head low, trying to walk without being noticed. He knew exactly what he had to do, and even if it sucked, it was the right thing.

—- ♡

“I really hope there is a reason why you’re calling me in the middle of the night, Jack,” Quinn sounded tired but. He always did. “A good one, that is,”

“I need some advice,” Jack looked at his brother through the screen, noticing the eye bags and the tired eyes. Why the hell Quinn always looked like he had been hit by a train was unknown.

Quinn just hummed, signaling for him to continue speaking.

“It’s Soph.”

“Did something happen?”

Jack cringed. Maybe they did need to start paying attention to what happened online. “Yeah, well, someone took a picture of me leaving the Halloween party with that girl named Ava who’s apparently one of my exes and posted it online, making it look like we hooked up or whatever. Then, they talked shit about Soph and Soph kind of broke up with me after saying she was in love with me and basically calling it a mistake.”

Quinn stared at the camera for a good minute, and just when Jack was starting to think he’d fallen back asleep, he moved, caressing his face with his hand.

“The hell is going on in New Jersey.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Jack scoffed. “I didn’t call you for nothing. If I wanted whatever the hell this is I would’ve called Luke.”

“I mean, what did you expect to happen? One day your whore days would catch up on you. Everyone knew this.”

“Why does everyone keep calling me a whore? Is this how women feel?” Jack frowned.

“They call you that because you had a new girl every month. Every time you had a gala you’d take a new girl with you and of course people would talk about that.”

“Okay but I wasn’t dating any of them!” Jack raised his arms, forgetting that he was still holding his phone and dropping it. Picking it up, he continued. “So what if I had a new woman every month? The issue here is Sophia not wanting to be with me anymore!”

“I think that, before wanting to be with her, you have to know if you want a relationship at all,” Quinn said, calmly. “You’ve never had a girlfriend before, a serious one that is. A relationship is a commitment, especially when you’re dating someone as famous as Sophia.”

“I know that she’s famous, I don’t care about that—”

“It’s not about her being famous, jackass, it’s about people forgetting that she is more than that. She is more than the Sophia who sings and dances, she’s a person. That’s literally common sense.”

“I know that too,” Jack mumbled.

“Soph’s been through a lot with that son of a bitch who’s not even worth mentioning. I don’t know much, you probably know about it better than me, but what I know is enough to make me want to punch him with my stick.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “I hate that fucking asshole. He cheated on her, lied, manipulated her and had the audacity to break up with her.”

“So, knowing all of that, how do you think she felt when she saw that picture?” Quinn asked, eyebrow arched. “The guy she’s in love with, holding hands with his ex.”

“I didn’t fuck her!” He raised his voice, tired of everyone saying the same. “I just took her home and went back to my place.”

“Yeah, but does Soph know that?”

Jack frowned. “Of course she does. I’ve told her multiple times that I was only seeing her. And Ava was drunk, I wouldn’t have done anything with her even if I wanted to.”

“Yes because it’s very credible that the guy who used to date a new girl every month now suddenly only dates a single girl. Jack, sometimes I feel like you just don’t think.”

“If I wanted someone to call me dumb—”

“You would’ve called Luke, I know. But right now, that’s what you need to hear,” Quinn sighed. “Look, I know it’s hard for you to understand but put yourself in her shoes. Just think.”

“Everyone keep saying this is my fault but I don’t see how I am the person in the wrong here. I didn’t publish the article, I didn’t fuck Ava—”

Quinn sighed loudly again, interrupting Jack and staring at the screen for a minute, again.

“What?”

“Sometimes I ask myself if we were raised by the same woman,” he shrugged. “Just imagine if Ma knew all of this. She’d probably yell at you.”

“Get to the point, Quinn,” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Look. I’ll try to make it simple,” he started. “Sophia is in love with you. She fell in love with you despite knowing that you have a long history of dating. But, she’s also hurt. And you made it all worse when you said the things I know you probably said.”

“I didn’t say anything that bad…”

“Oh, quit it, Jack. I know you,” Quinn smiled. “You probably made her cry too. That’s the drill. Anyways, you have to ask yourself how do you feel about Soph—”

“I love her.”

They both stayed quiet for at least five minutes. Quinn just staring at the screen like he was reading a newspaper article and Jack staring back at him, looking like he was about to explode.

He hadn’t stopped to think about what he truly felt for you. He knew he liked you, adored even, but he never thought of naming the things he felt whenever he thought about you.

But it was as clear as day. He loved you, he was in love with you.

“Well, then I think my job here is done.” Quinn finally said, breaking the silence.

“What?” Jack almost shouted. “What do you mean? You have to help me get her back!”

“I don’t have time for that and honestly neither do you,” he stated and, well, he was right. They were in the middle of the season, and that was their job. Jack needed to get a grip. “If I were you, though, I’d start by apologising and telling her that you didn’t have sex with Ava or anyone else for that matter.”

“Okay,” Jack breathed. “And then?”

“Figure it out yourself. You’re a big boy.”

Jack groaned, leaning back on the couch. “Fuuuck. This is so fucking shitty. I love her, and she loves me, why can’t we just be together?”

“You will, after you fix this mess.” Quinn yawned and nodded at you. “I’m gonna go back to sleep. You should too. You’ve been playing like shit lately.”

“Fuck you. Bye.”

“Bye.”

He hung up, throwing his phone on the pillow next to him.

How the hell was he going to fix this?

#jack hughes #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x singer!fmc #jack hughes x singer!reader #IYLMLMK

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perfctvelvet · 3 months

Note

can you do sabrina carpenter!!

Happy Fucking New Year; Sabrina Carpenter/Fem!Reader

Content: 2nd POV. Strangers, alcohol mention, semi-public (hooking-up in the bathroom of some rich person's house), making out, oral sex

No one wanted to be alone this New Years and you were no exception. The only problem was that your friend, the one who happens to the social butterfly brought you to a party where you don't know anyone here besides her. Everyone was dressed to the nines; shimmering dresses with make up to match and expensive suits. Having a friend who works in PR was an unexpected perk in her life, but having a friend who works in PR means when you're out they're always in networking mode. Coming here, to some random person's mega-mansion, was thrilling at first but the shine was beginning to dull immediately.

You had lost your friend somewhere in the fray of the fancy just less than an hour before midnight. Many people were here with partners, spouses, and lovers, and to you it seemed like you and your friend were the only single ones. You didn't let it get to you because you had her, but now she was gone. All you had was your too-small purse and a vodka soda you weren't a big fan of.

Just as the night couldn't get more painful, someone bumps into you. There was no love lost for the beverage that you spilled but now it was all over your dress. You may have been feeling alone, but your dress was the only thing you had. You got it one random day in the summer at the encouragement of your friend that she will give you a reason to wear it. You felt confident walking out of the car tonight and into the party. That was only two hours ago and oh how everything seemed to cave in.

"Fuck! I'm so, so sorry!"

This woman who bumped into you sounded sincere in her apologies. At first you thought you were being mocked, but the way she tried to wipe off your dress before it could stain seemed too real.

"I-It's okay."

You couldn't even bring yourself to look at her. Instead you were looking around you at the people who were beginning to look at the commotion. You were hoping to lock eyes with your friend so she could rescue you, but she was still nowhere to be found.

"Ugh! C'mon!"

Before you could register what was going on, you were being dragged away by the woman who ruined your dress. You were too relieved by being saved from the embarrassment to make a fuss. She lead you to one of the many guests bathroom in the house. She was bold, shutting the door behind you two and almost forcing you to sit on the counter. She grabbed one of the fancy, embroidered towels and wets it to continue her efforts to save your dress. Even though you appreciated her eagerness to fix her mistake, you can't help but be enamored and a little amused by the situation.

"It was just a vodka soda. Don't worry, it's not going to stain my dress."

It seems as if your voice is what gets to her. She slowly stops frantically wiping off the parts of your dress that is covered in vodka and looks up at you. She's stunning, so much so that you begin to lose your confidence.

"I hope I didn't take you away from whoever you cam here with." She finally puts the towel down and you get to hear her voice in a more relaxed state.

"No, no, I just came with a friend, but I lost her somewhere so I was just kind of by myself." You felt like a loser saying that out loud, but something lights up in the stranger's eyes at your confession.

"Glad I'm not the only one here feeling a little dejected."

"What do you mean?"

She points to the spot next to you, gesturing if she could sit beside you. There was plenty of space on the counter and she didn't have to ask, but you made space for her anyway.

"What was supposed to be a girls' night New Years Eve get together turned into us coming here, and just like you I have no clue where my friends with."

It wouldn't be shocking to either of them if their friends found someone gorgeous and well-off to talk to, but you were sure your friend was more concerned with making connections than the imminent countdown to the new year. You empathized with this woman, but still couldn't get over the shock that someone who looks like her was feeling the same loneliness tonight.

"I guess that's a common theme tonight. It's never really happened before so I think that's why it stings so much. I'm Y/n by the way."

"Sabrina," she sticks her hand out for you to take which you do. You two shake hands for a few seconds before breaking away. You felt like you had made a new friend tonight and you were a little proud of yourself. You were never the most sociable one in the room, so it's fitting that your main way of meeting new people is through an embarrassing moment.

"You said you came here with a friend? Just one? Are they a friend or a friend."

"Just a friend. We were roommates one year in college and I reached out to her when I moved out here to LA. She's always been primed for this kind of life, not me, so I needed her to guide me through the upsides and downs of living here."

"There are a lot of ups, like being invited to some rich ass dude's New Years Eve party. The downs would be the perpetual loneliness that seems like a requirement."

"I take it you've been in LA for years?"

"Almost two decades now. Feels like it's been a life time."

"Do you like it? I've only been here for two years and I'm still figuring out how I feel about it."

"Well, like you said, it has it's ups and downs. Some times there are more downs than ups, and vice versa. I would say right now that sitting in the bathroom of a boring party with a pretty girl who is being kind to me after I fucked up her dress is one of the ups."

You break eye contact with her to spare yourself the embarrassment. You feel a heat creep up your neck and beat you right in the face. You never learned how to take a compliment without completely crumbling. You already found Sabrina to be interesting and pretty, but now your heart was starting to beat out of your chest.

"And I hope this doesn't sound weird, but I'm kind of glad I literally ran into you. I saw you earlier in the party and I couldn't stop staring at you. I hope I don't sound like a creep."

"No, not at all! I'm just shocked to say the least."

What snapped you out of your shock was the sound of people cheering and getting rowdy outside of the bathroom. At first you feared someone was going to come in, ruining your solace. But then Sabrina checks her phone and sees that it's almost midnight.

"Two more minutes then it's 2024. I'll be honest, Y/n, I didn't expect to spend my last minutes of 2023 like this. I sort of feel like a klutz."

"Don't be sorry. Like I said my dress is fine, just a little sticky, but one wash it'll be alright."

The both of you end up getting distracted by the rowdiness outside the door. You were half tempted to get up and join them just to watch everyone ring in the New Year together, but you stay put. You notice how Sabrina isn't budging and you get the impression that she wants to stay with you in her last moments of 2023. Soon the start the countdown.

"10...9...8...7..."

In just a few seconds you feel fingers weave through yours and Sabrina grabbing your face. You let her control your body, turning your head to face her.

"6...5...4..."

It takes just seconds for your heart to flutter with an emotion you haven't felt in a long time.

"3...2...1...Happy New Year!"

Sabrina's lips meet yours on the very first syllable of "happy." For the first time in years you genuinely felt the meaning.

At first it felt innocent, just two lonely souls filling the void together, but Sabrina didn't want to pull away. She kissed you deeper, harder. The lust was radiating off of her and it was overwhelming. The last way you expected to bring in the new year was a bathroom hook-up, but surprisingly you weren't turned off to the idea. No one has ever come on this strong to you before and being in LA you were beginning to think you were a love repellant. This kiss left your breathless and starving for more. You grab onto Sabrina, unintentionally laying one hand on her breast in the process. Neither of you seemed to care as your tongues bumped against each other's. It was becoming a little sloppy, with Sabrina taking you there, but you enjoyed it. There is a hint of lemon on her tongue and you wondered why type of drinks a girl like Sabrina would drink. She was bold, yet refreshing.

Sabrina pulls away, panting and her lipstick smudged. She's looks a little messy now but she smiles regardless. She's so happy that you're receptive to her touch and that you seemed to enjoy the kiss too.

"Was that too much?" She wipes the edges of her mouth.

"I think we're beyond the point of worrying about what's too much now."

You're the one to lean in this time. You continue what Sabrina started, the blonde leaning into this time until she wraps her arms around your neck. You were at the point of no return and you wouldn't dare turn back. You wanted more; you wanted her.

"Do you think you can be quiet?" You ask her between kisses?

She hums affirmatively against your lips before you break the kiss. She moans breathlessly when your lips land on her neck. So much for being quiet because her moan fills the room. Of course the party outside still raged on as being in a whole new year put a new life into the party. The sound of the bass of the music thumped against the walls, but nothing could overtake the sound of Sabrina's sweet moans. You finally get between her legs, your knees pressed into the soft rug. She places her legs on your shoulders and you come face to face with her pussy. It didn't surprise you, but seeing her without panties made your face grow hot.

"I hope you don't mind, I left them at home," she says with a salacious tone.

You didn't mind at all, you were happy to have easier access to her wet pussy. You can't go another minute without it seeing what she tastes like. Sabrina whines when your face disappears between her legs under her dress. She pulls it up and catches the very moment your tongue meets her dripping sex. She moans so loud that she has to put her own hand over her mouth. You lick and lick and lick and somehow she's able to keep herself from screaming out in pleasure. It was like you knew her body and knew what buttons to press. She feels a rush run through her and she's on cloud nine. Never has a stranger made her so happy and feels so good. She moves her hand from her mouth and promises herself she'll be good and keep as quiet as possible. She knuckles turn white as she grips the edge of the counter.

"Oh Y/n that feels so fucking good," she whines. "I've been thinking about this all night."

The thought of someone being so turned on by you that they fantasized about it after seeing you once was astounding. You were shocked to have that power over someone, especially over someone so beautiful. You felt lucky, lucky to be invited here (the party and between Sabrina's legs). You pull away from her pussy and rub her clit.

"Did you want me so bad that you spilled a drink on me?"

Sabrina doesn't answer, just moans as she throws her head back in pleasure. You stop rubbing her clit to insert a finger into her pussy. When she feels your tongue back on her clit paired with the finger inside of her she almost cums. But she wants to savor the taste, feel this forever. She thinks she's strong enough to hold herself back, but your fingers are stronger than her will. You insert another one into her and her walls wrap warmly and tightly around the two. Your hitting the spot that makes her legs shake. Sabrina desperately wants to cry out loud, but she wouldn't dare risk getting caught and letting the moment end. She's so so close, tettering on that blissful edge. You kiss her inner thigh not once, or twice, but a few times. It makes her legs shake. She forgets about trying to hold back when she feels the 5th kiss pressed to her thigh.

She fears that you might get turned off by how hard she cums, but you enjoy it very much. She closes her eyes, bites her lip, and tosses her head back in ecstasy. A tear runs down her rosy cheek too. Her make-up is probably too fucked up for saving, but no one is going to care, so neither does she.

"Earth to Sabrina...you here with me?" You tease her. You're not sure if she likes that, but she just let you eat her out and finger, a little teasing is harmless in comparison.

She opens her eyes a few seconds later and a sweet, relaxed smile forms on her face.

"People are probably looking for us," you say to her when she finally looks down at you.

"Let them look."

#sabrina carpenter #sabrina carpenter smut #sabrina carpenter x you #sabrina carpenter x reader #sabrina carpenter fanfic #f/f #f/f smut #f/f fanfic #smut #blurb #lesbian fanfic #lesbian smut #celeb smut

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

don’t want to walk alone | carmen ‘carmy' berzatto | chapter three: september

summary: the moment we've all be waiting for: you and carmy get married.

warnings: swearing, eventual smut, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov, she/her pronouns

wc: 7.1k

listen to: the official don't want to walk alone playlist. there is SO much music in this chapter, so per the playlist, it starts with 'it takes two' and ends with 'love story.'

a/n: ok so this chapter was a behemoth to write and i am in fact in love with it. it's taken me days, really weeks, to get what i wanted out of it and i still feel like i could've gone deeper. however, i'm also kind of just happy to have this out in the world and give these two the wedding they wanted me to give them. each moment was curated and thought out, down to the music selection so this chapter is really just a product of me stewing on this idea for quite a bit of time. this is a part of my make my heart surrender universe so check out the masterlist if you haven't read the series! next up? their long weekend at the langham where we really get carmy x reader and moments for just them. please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

part two | masterlist | part four

“It takes two to make a thing go riiiiight.”

You never pictured the night before your wedding like this, you think to yourself, as you listen to Fak sing, to the best of his ability in a somewhat-decent falsetto, along to the 90s hip hop classic.

Hell, you’re not sure you really ever pictured your wedding, but as you sit, surrounded by the people you love, you can’t see it going any other way than this. You watch as Richie rallies up as many people as he can for shots of Mallort, recounting that infamous morning at Ceres – a story he’s told over and over again, yet still manages to tell as animated and boisterously as the first time you heard it.

You groan as you watch Richie successfully convince Gary to take a shot with him, Gary’s face twisting into a look of disgust in response to the foul taste of the Chicago liquor, as Sugar reminds him that he should know better by now.

Carmy gives your knee a squeeze while simultaneously brushing off Richie’s attempt at shoving a shot in his direction. You laugh, a warm feeling filling you to the brim (could be the beer, could be being surrounded by your people), while Sydney jumps right into her best Rob Base impression.

It just so happens that your continuously put-off ‘let’s shoot for next month’ karaoke plans with a few staff members from The Bear coincided with plans to go out with friends before the wedding, which is how you’ve found yourself here.

After a lovely dinner at The Bear, your parents went back to the hotel for the night, insisting that you two go and have your fun. And as much as you would’ve loved to have brought your mother-who-has-a-doctorate-in-music-theory to karaoke night, she much preferred a good night’s sleep.

The crowded bar claps enthusiastically as Fak and Sydney wrap up their song, finishing their truly-made-up-only-for-comedy dance moves. You giggle, exchanging another glance with Carmy, as your friends take their bows, before shuffling off of the stage.

You hear the loud boom of the emcee’s voice through the microphone as he says:

“And up next we got… Tina!”

“Let’s go, T!” you shout through hands crowded around your mouth, in an effort to increase your volume of sound.

Carmy cheers, clapping his hands together as Richie enthusiastically chants Tina’s name while Tina makes her way to the stage.

“This is gonna be good,” Sugar nudges you, from where you are, seated in between the Berzatto siblings.

You nod your head in agreement before settling in a little closer to Carmy.

“The queen, herself,” Sydney remarks, gesturing towards the stage as she and Fak both return to your table. Sydney pulls up a chair next to where you and Carmy sit while Fak joins Richie on the other side of it. “And the ONLY act that could follow our exceptional performance.”

“Well, exactly,” you agree, playfully.

You exchange a laugh with Syd, while Carmy playfully rolls his eyes at the two of you.

The crowded bar room goes quiet as soon as Tina reaches the stage, smiling nervously as she grabs the mic.

“This one goes out to our favorite Jeffrey. And his lady Jeff,” she begins, earning a round of cheers and hollers from the group you’re with. Tina blows a kiss you and Carmy’s way, before nodding at the emcee to begin.

“I love you guys.”

You hear the beginning notes of the iconic Etta James tune, gasping in anticipation of her song:

“at last my love has come along my lonely days are over and life is like a song.”

You sigh in admiration, a hand over your heart as Tina continues to sing. Her voice is powerful, soulful – perfect for the song, really – as she continues into the second verse.

“at last the skies above are blue my heart was wrapped up in clover the night I looked at you.”

This time, it’s Carmy who steals a glance your way, his mind taken back to that fateful night at a bar in Hell’s Kitchen, when he spilled his drink on you so many years ago. You’re entranced, enchanted, with Tina’s performance, and he thinks to himself, that maybe this is the best it’s ever going to get: being here with you, getting to love you, on the cusp of promising you ‘forever’ tomorrow.

Never had he expected that you’d make it this far. You’d always been so much cooler than him – well-liked, talented, funny – in and out of the kitchen, that he had no idea how the hell he was supposed to talk to you without vomiting all over your shoes out of nerves.

He can remember that night so vividly: standing there in the restroom of the bar he can barely remember the name of, while you stood across from him with the kind of glare on your face he swore could kill him. But you didn’t, and after many attempts to push you away, you asked him to be your friend, deeming it the day that started it all – a friendship that would teeter the line of friendship and something more, one that would bloom into the greatest love he’s ever known. As much as he hates to give Nate fucking Walker any kind of credit, he’ll the be first in line to say he’s glad the jagoff pushed him into you, setting it all in motion.

You can see that Carmy’s become distracted, lost in thought as the song finishes, something behind your favorite pair of blue eyes as the entire bar ignites into a huge round of celebratory claps for Tina’s performance.

You look up over at him, setting your beer bottle down on the table before leaning over to whisper in his ear.

“I can hear you thinkin’ over there, Berzatto,” you tease him quietly, pulling him from his trip down memory lane. “It’s only the night before the biggest day of your life. Relax.”

Carmy rolls his eyes playfully in response, but before he can properly respond to your jab, the emcee has begun introducing the next karaoke singers to the stage.

“Alright. Looks like I’ve got uh… three singers here this time,” the emcee says, his voice cutting sharply through the crowd of remaining cheers. “Let’s welcome Sydney back to the stage with… Sugar and… the bride to be!”

“What!?” you exclaim, your eyes wide with surprise as Sydney jumps to her feet.

“But I didn’t-,” you begin to protest, as Sugar pulls you to your feet, tugging on your arm.

“Oh there’s no way in hell we’re letting you sit this one out,” Sugar orders you, as Sydney rushes to your side, ushering you towards the stage.

“Yeah this was your idea!” Sydney simultaneously reminds you.

“Babe! Help!” you call out to Carmy, only to be met with a shrug and a look that says ‘don’t think I could if I tried.’

“Oh, he’s in on this,” Sydney adds, which does explain why he didn’t even attempt to help you when your friends began dragging you out of your chair. “So don’t even think about asking him for help.”

“Wh-? But I don’t even know what we’re singing!” you continue to protest, looking from Sugar to Sydney as they push you onto the stage with them.

“Trust,” Sydney reassures you, her face serious, while Nat slides a sash over you (one you’ve refused to wear all night) that has the word, ‘BRIDE’ printed over it in huge gold lettering. You groan, sending a glare in Nat’s direction, even though you know it’s all in good fun.

You hear Richie shout, while Fak and Marcus clap loudly, and Carmy laughs, shouting words of encouragement your way.

You know there’s no use in putting up a fight, especially since this was your idea anyways, as you begrudgingly take one of the three wireless mics. Before you can ask once more, what the hell Syd and Nat signed the three of you up to sing, a distinct slide of piano keys comes in, lighting up the karaoke screen in front of you.

You grin immediately, in recognition, and to your two best friend’s delight, as they smile too, raising the mics to your lips to sing:

“friday night and the lights are low looking out for a place to go where they play the right music getting in the swing you come to look for a king.”

You laugh as your friends point towards Carmy on the last line. The three of you continue to sing the next part with reckless abandon, and all is forgiven.

You could care less about how the three of them conspired against you to get you up here. All that matters now is that you’re here, singing one of your favorite songs with your best friends, grooving and dancing to the ABBA classic, as you prepare to marry your best friend.

“you can dance you can jive having the time of your life ooh, see that girl watch that scene digging the dancing queen.”

"what good is love without any strings?" dayglow, 'close to me'

“Baby.”

Carmy groans in response, as soon as he hears the low hum of your voice.

“Good morning,” you say, a soft smile on your face as you watch him begin to blink his eyes open.

Carmy turns his head towards you, and he can’t believe he gets to wake up to this – to you – every single day.

“Hey,” he says back, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “Good Morning, sweetheart.”

“Guess what?” you ask him with the kind of glee and anticipation as a kid on Christmas morning.

“Hmm?” he hums, as you smooth a hand over his chest, your body pressed against his side as you look at your soon-to-be husband.

“We’re getting married today,” you grin, a giddiness that bubbles inside of you.

“‘S that so?” he mumbles, playfully.

“Uh huh,” you nod with a chuckle, this time playing along. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

Instead of replying with words, Carmy swiftly wraps an arm around you, before flipping you so that you’re the one on your back this time. You let out of a shriek and a laugh as he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before adding:

“How could I ever?”

You shrug casually, “Weeeelll…. you just have so much going on up there.” You reach up to where Carmy hovers above you, brushing a golden curl out of his eyes as you continue your little dance.

“You know, between the restaurant and all that time spent being a genius,” you joke, bantering with Carmy. “Don’t know how you have the time to remember silly little things like wedding dates and what not.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Carmy laughs, shaking his head incredulously, before pressing another kiss, this one much deeper to your lips again.

And this time, as he pulls away, he gives you one of those languid looks that pierces right through your soul replying much more seriously this time with:

“I could never forget you.”

The way he says it with such conviction takes your breath away, and you know that Carmy means it. The double meaning isn’t lost on him either.

It’s one of the reasons he called you all those years ago to come teach Marcus; it’s why you ended up in Chicago:

Because as much as he tried, as damn good at compartmentalizing as he’d always been, he really could never forget you. Carmy shakes his head once more, a playful smile on his face as he leans down to kiss you again, wondering when the hell he got this fuckin’ sentimental. As he places his mouth over yours, you’re more than happy to switch gears into doing this dance for a little longer.

Carmy traces light shapes against your skin, his mouth pouring love into yours with every kiss, with every drag of his tongue. You gasp as he grinds his hips into yours, making it clear where he’d like this all to go. You pull away, only for a moment, giggling cheekily.

“Babe, I-,” you begin to protest, as Carmy chuckles, continuing to kiss you with zero intention of stopping “We… we’re going to be late.” This time, you feel his hands snake underneath the t-shirt you’ve been sleeping in, sending chills down your spine.

“And-, Carm-, I-, I have to do my hair for-, … and what about-, my parents, they’ll-,” you stammer through, your thoughts becoming all kinds of disorganized with the way Carmy’s lips move against your neck this time.

“I’ll be quick,” he answers with an aplomb you didn’t know he had in him.

“I don’t know if that’s the flex you think it is,” you tease him as his hands begin to cup your breasts, your body responding with an involuntary arch of your back.

“How fast I can make you come? I think it might be?” he murmurs against your lips, cockily.

“Carmy,” you moan, as he begins to pull your t-shirt up higher, making it incredibly difficult to think of your to-do list for much longer.

“Oh fuck it,” you sigh, deciding that, perhaps there’s no harm in getting the honeymoon started a little early anyways.

“That’s my girl,” Carmy whispers against you, grinning like a Cheshire cat as you surrender to him.

And he’s right about this too.

How fast he can make you cum deserves all kinds of bragging rights, awards – a Nobel Peace prize, even – and you’re not sure why you thought getting a head start on doing your hair would’ve been the better idea in the first place. You spend the morning in the arms of the man you plan to spend forever with as he writes love letters, promises to give you the world, declarations of adoration with the pleasure he brings you. And besides, you’re not running all that behind on time anyways – something you realize, as the two of you get out of the shower (a round two, really).

It takes a little longer than expected – mostly due to the fact that you and Carmy can’t seem to keep your hands off of each other – but against all odds, the two of you pull up to the courthouse right on time.

It’s a sight for sore eyes: you, running hand in hand with your husband-to-be in a white, halter-cut wedding dress while Carmy follows along, in a classic black suit – no tie around the neck – as the two of you hurry into the courthouse.

Sure, you could’ve tried to get here early – saved a little time and stress – but where’s the fun in that?

The two of you approach your families, hand in hand, to the sounds of your heels clicking against the marble floors of City Hall. The actual ceremony at City Hall, you’d both decided, would be family only.

Since you weren’t making a huge deal of it, you viewed this part as necessary paperwork, while the party itself could function as the ceremony and reception. But as soon as you see the look on your parents’ faces, you know this is more than just a few signed papers. You watch as their faces change, from impatient, waiting, eager, to in awe and emotional as you walk towards them.

You hear Ava shout your name, immediately dropping her dad’s hand as she runs towards you.

“Ava!!” you exclaim, bending down in your heels and white dress to scoop her up into a hug. You spin her around, just for a moment, before setting her back down on the floor.

“You look like a princess,” she says, completely in awe, her eyes wide as she looks up at you.

“You look like a princess, sweetie,” you reply, before giving her another hug. “And you know I can’t wait to hear your song, right?”

“I picked the best one,” she grins, proudly.

“I’m sure you did,” you reply confidently, with a playful wink.

“Oh-ho! Pay up, Rick,” Sugar mutters smugly, to Richie, as Carmy busies himself with greeting both of your parents.

Richie groans, muttering something profane as he not-so-discreetly hands Nat a $20 bill, earning a quizzical look from both of your parents that travels from Carmy and then to you.

“Sorry,” Richie apologizes, this time directing this one towards your parents as he holds up both hands, respectfully bowing his head.

You send a playful glare Richie’s way, earning a sardonic laugh from Natalie, as you push right past him and over to your parents.

“Oh sweetie,” your mom gasps, pulling you in for a tight squeeze.

“Hi, Mom,” you grin, as you hug her. “Dad!”

“My God, honey, you look beautiful,” your dad says, as it’s his turn next. You hug your dad, exchanging a few words about the morning, asking how they slept, how the hotel is, as your mom and Carmy hug it out.

This time, he turns his attention towards Carmy, so you release him, letting the two of them have their moment.

Taking your chance, while your parents are otherwise distracted, you make your way over to where Sugar and Richie stand.

“What? You guys were betting on whether or not we’d be late?” you ask Sugar, an eyebrow quirked in Richie’s direction.

“Listen,” Sugar sighs, cupping your face in her hands, endearingly. “You and Carm are nothing if not consistent.” You exchange a laugh with your almost-sister-in-law because you know she’s right. “And for the record, I bet that you’d be-.”

“Just in time!” the judge says, as he approaches the six of you, slipping his judge robe over his shoulders, black leather fold pressed against his chest. “You guys ready to get started?”

Carmy looks over at you, as if he’s waiting for you to take the lead here, and you nod, before the both of you turn back to the judge.

“Yes.”

“Great,” he smiles, clapping his hands together once. “Then let’s get you two married!”

"sooner or later, you'll find yourself right where you were, on the corner went looking for her, she had somethin' to tell you, she can't quite remember, but wait for a second, it always comes back to her, you always come back to her." -- the japanese house, 'morning pages'

And after dotting all appropriate i’s and crossing all necessary t’s, with one signed marriage license later, you, Carmy, your parents, Richie and Ava, Sugar, and Judge Thompson find yourself on the green roof of City Hall.

Carmy stands across you, his hands in yours, offering you a lifetime with one look from the most expressive blue orbs you’ve ever found yourself in.

“If you’d like to say something, if you prepared any vows… now would be the time,” Judge Thompson says, offering you and Carmy both the space to do so.

“Oh I think we-,” you begin, ready to decline the opportunity since you figured you’d save it for the reception.

“Actually uh, yeah. Can we?” Carmen interjects, sending you a look of reassurance.

“Of course,” Judge Thompson nods, giving you and Carmy the floor.

“Carm, I didn’t prepare anything for-,” you begin, but he’s quick to put your mind and heart at ease and he interjects with:

“It’s okay. I did.”

“Oh.”

You hadn’t expected this, since you both agreed you’d save any kind of speeches that may or may not happen today during the reception. But as Carmy’s palms grow clammier, a nervous look in his eyes as he searches for the words he’s practiced over the last few days, it becomes clear that he’s been planning this.

“As you know… I’m not always great with words,” he begins, almost apologetically, letting out a small laugh as he looks to Richie for reassurance. In turn, Richie gives Carmy a sympathetic nod, and you’re practically melting over the fact that he probably asked Richie for help with this.

Let it rip.

“I just uh-,” Carmy stammers, because he really, really wants to get this right. “Well, I’ll keep it brief.” He takes a breath, letting all of his nerves out on the exhale before beginning again.

Let it rip, buddy.

“I have loved you for so long – I think maybe since the day you brought me soup after I uh… you know, spilled my drink on you,” he states, earning the sweetest laugh from you, your friends, and family that came to witness.

“-- so I promise to love you for even longer, for forever. You changed my life.”

You exhale, trying your best not to cry right here and now, thankful for the mysterious powers of waterproof mascara.

“Jeez, no pressure,” you joke, dryly, before taking another breath, this time approaching your words with much more seriousness.

“Carmen. I’m so happy… that I changed your life,” you begin, cheekily, earning a laugh from your witnesses once more. “Because you changed mine. And I promise to love you forever.”

‘I love you,’ Carmy mouths to you, before nodding towards the judge to signal that you’re both done with your vows.

“Alright then,” Judge Thompson smiles, looking from you and then to Carmen, before uttering the question that will change the course of your life forever.

“I do,” Carmy replies, his voice even, sure, ready.

Natalie steps up this time, handing Carmy your ring, and you watch, teary eyed and full hearted as he slides it onto your left ring finger.

“And do you take Carmen Anthony Berzatto to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Judge Thompson repeats the question, this time for you to answer.

“Yeah, why the hell not?” you reply, earning a groan from your mother and a playful chuckle from your father.

“Yes. I do.”

At Richie’s encouragement, it’s Ava this time who steps up, handing you Carmy’s ring, with the sweetest most excited smile on her face as she looks from you to Carmy. You thank her, before returning your attention to Carmy once more. His eyes search your face, and there’s something so soft, so genuine in them that you think you’re going to cry as you help him put on his new piece of jewelry as well.

“Then by the power vested in me by the State of Illinois, I now pronounce you, husband and wife,” Judge Thompson concludes, contently.

“Should we-, do we kiss?” Carmy asks, looking from you to Judge Thompson.

“I’m just a civil servant but you may, yes,” he answers lightheartedly.

“Let’s go for it,” you shrug, taking a step towards Carmy.

Instead of answering, he smiles, stepping towards you before planting one on you in front of your friends and family that were invited to this brief ceremony.

While Sugar claps gleefully, Richie claps along muttering a ‘get a room,’ while you remind Carmy to keep it PG enough for your parents. You giggle, slowly pulling away from the kiss that begins the rest of your life with the man that you love.

“We did it, baby. We’re married,” you chuckle, in disbelief.

“Finally,” Carmy sighs, and you can see his smile from his lips to the crinkles in the corners of his eyes.

It doesn’t take long for your mom to usher both you and Carmy over to a spot in the garden she thinks will be best for pictures, just as the photographer arrives. She wasn’t wrong when she insisted you hire one, that you’d want to remember this day for the rest of your life. The photographer, who is incredibly talented, gets the shots needed up here in the garden, then downstairs, and outside, before you’re all off to Sugar’s place for the reception.

As you and Carmy sit in the car, having taken a separate one than your parents, you’re giddy with anticipation.

It’s all so surreal.

Never in his life did Carmy picture it ever getting this good, but as he looks over at you, your head resting on his shoulder, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, smiling to himself.

“We did it, sweet girl. We’re married,” he says, repeating your words from earlier.

“Yeah,” you grin, lifting your head off of his shoulder.

“We are, Bear.”

"give your heart and soul to me, and life will always be la vie en rose."

“No, Sugar! That’s not supposed to go out yet. Everything’s goin’ out family style. Let’s just take out the apps for-,” Carmy exclaims, stressed over the execution of your wedding reception-slash-brunch, because he just can’t help himself.

“Fuckin’ Christ, Bear!” she snaps at her brother. “Will you calm down and let us handle this?”

“I just want everything to-,” Carmy begins, his face blushing a shade darker.

“To go right. We know. And we know we’re just taking out apps, alright? Everyone else is outside, and everyone’s having a good time so just… relax,” she suggests, her tone serious because she’s just about to kick Carmy out of the kitchen.

Carmy shifts nervously, hyper-fixating on the happenings of the kitchen, his eyes tracking the movements of one of his caterer, Derek’s, sous chefs. It’s almost as if he needs to give himself a distraction as he asks, blankly:

“Do you uh… you think Mom is actually gonna show?”

Sugar pauses, the question throwing her.

“I… I don’t know. I called her yesterday. She never picked up. What do you think?” she replies, her voice quiet.

With your encouragement, you and Carmy had sent his mother an invitation to the brunch, only it’s been Sugar who’s followed up with her.

“We did what we needed to and if she doesn’t come, then she doesn’t come. I’m not pushin’ it,” Carmy had explained, justifying his actions, or rather, lack there of, to you.

She’s doubtful, but Nat can’t help the tiny glimmer of hope she has in her heart that Donna might show, even if she knows it’s unrealistic. In fact, her mom had barely been interested in stopping by as of late, ever since she’d told the Berzatto matriarch that she was pregnant. She keeps telling herself that it doesn’t matter – that it’s probably better if Donna doesn’t show – but it doesn’t help ease the disappointment she feels about the situation as a whole.

“Doubt it, honestly. Never even got an RSVP so,” Carmy shrugs, his eyes following one of the caterers as the woman plates a few Hors d'oeuvres on a large serving platter.

Before Sugar can say anything else about their mom, Carmy’s impulse takes over as he opens his mouth to give feedback to one of Derek’s assistants.

“Carmy!” she snaps, blocking his pathway with her body, before repeating one more time:

“Let. Us. Handle this.”

“I mean, are any of us actually surprised, Nat?” Sydney adds, as soon as she enters the kitchen from where she’s been outside in the backyard, in search of another plate to bring out. “He’s a control freak! We know this!”

“I-,” Carmy starts, knowing it’s no use protesting, as both Sugar and Syd begin guiding him out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“C’mon, Carm. Why don’t you go see what your wife is up to?” Sydney suggests, emphasizing your new title, earning a snicker from Natalie.

“Who’s wife? This wife?” you ask, as soon as your feet hit the bottom of the staircase.

“Woah,” is all Carmy says. He can’t help but stare, gawking at you in your new dress.

You’ve changed out of your near-floor length wedding dress into a sleeveless white blazer dress that’s much more friendly to hanging out with your friends and family outside, kept your hair the same, and put on one of those super stay red lipsticks that you’re eager to put through its paces.

It’s as if time stops when he sees you, and Sugar and Syd both notice, using this time to retreat back to their duties. The only thing that can break his focus right now is the way that you let a carefree laugh fly from your lips, as soon as you see that Natalie’s using the future baby’s baby gate that Nat must’ve purchased early, to officially block Carmy from coming back to the kitchen.

“What?” Carmy asks, only to be met with a gesture towards what Natalie is doing.

He frowns, immediately seeing the baby gate his sister has put up.

“You know, I’m not a baby,” he pouts at his sister.

“Then stop acting like one!” she parries right back, before disappearing into the kitchen to help out your caterer.

Quick to console your husband, you wrap your arms around your neck, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“They’re only trying to make sure we have a good time, Bear,” you offer, sympathetically, only to be met with a heavy sigh because you know it feels near-impossible for him not to be in the kitchen.

“You trust Derek right?” you ask this time, referring to the caterer that Carmy hand-picked for your wedding.

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Okay. Then let’s go out there. Make our grand entrance,” you suggest, a playful smile on your lips.

“Yeah,” Carmy nods again, this time a little more sure about taking a step away from what’s happening inside the kitchen. You take his hand, leading him towards the back door that opens up to the backyard.

You’re truly amazed at what everyone involved has been able to do this morning, while you and Carmy were off at the courthouse getting married. Long tables pushed together and covered with tablecloths function as the main attraction of the you-and-Carmy-wedding-reception-brunch, filled with ceramic plates, printed menus, apps on serving platters, taper candles and flowers in all kinds of little to big vases.

The minute the two of you enter the backyard area that’s been transformed into a wedding venue, you’re met with cheers, ooo’s and aaaaah’s, claps, and congratulations by your friends and family.

“Sugar really knocked this out of the park,” Carmy says, in awe as he takes in the scene. “Okay, fine. I’ll just have to trust, I guess.”

You nod, happy to hear the confidence in his voice as you agree, “That’s my guy!”

There’s a banner that hangs across a much smaller table, the one that holds the stunning wedding cake Marcus has made for you that reads, Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Berzatto.

“See? I told you I couldn’t wait to be Mrs. Berzatto,” you joke with Carmy, as the two of you walk hand in hand towards the table.

“I think I like the sound of that more than I should,” Carmy smirks, a glimmer in his eyes that says ‘I can’t wait to get you alone.’

“Can’t wait for you to show me later,” you wink, referring to the long weekend you plan on spending with Carmy as a pre-honeymoon. “C’mon. We should probably go say hello.”

“So… you two married now or what?” Marcus asks, as soon as the two of you approach the table.

You hold up your left hand, showing off your new ring, earning grins and more cheers from your friends and family.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” he celebrates, while Tina simultaneously and enthusiastically cries out: “Congratulations, babies!”

The plan is to divine and conquer. While you chat with Gary, Carmy lets himself become enveloped in Tina’s arms and praise, as the two of you make your way down the table saying hello to your guests: your parents, Marcus, Tina, Ebra, Fak, Gary, a few others from the restaurant, while.

Carmy’s glad you decided to keep this wedding small: close friends and family only, because he’s not sure he could’ve done any more of this. It’s just close friends from the restaurant and your parents. You’d even decided earlier that this weekend would be chill enough that you’d celebrate with Maya and Liz a few months later when you and Carmy stop in New York before the official honeymoon, planning another celebration with your New York people for later.

Besides, you don’t mind celebrating you and Carmy a few more times, after all.

Finally, you’re both able to settle into the empty chairs seated right next to your parents in the middle of the table labeled ‘bride’ and ‘groom.’ It’s a Saturday well spent, being celebrated by some of your favorite people in the world on a day you made a promise to your favorite person in the world. It doesn’t take long for everyone in the kitchen to join you at the table: Sugar, Richie, Sydney, and Pete, and once the meal is served, family style, you’re pulling up chairs and insisting that Derek and his team join you as well.

The menu is perfect, and you can see why Carmy’s been trying to get this guy to come work for him for so long. Next to Carmy’s, this carbonara might be your second favorite carbonara on the planet. After all the eating, drinking, and merry-making, it’s Richie who steps up to start the speeches, gently tapping a butter knife against a champagne glass as he stands at the table.

“Can I get everyone’s attention?” he asks, his voice loud. Richie raises his champagne glass as he begins his speech with:

“Now as the best man and this Bobby Flay-motherfucker's cousin, I think I earn the right to kick this thing off, eh?” earning a laugh from everyone around the table.

“To Carmy and his much, much better half,” he continues, earning a laugh from everyone around the table. Your mom squeezes your hand under the table, and out of the corner of your eye you can see Sydney nudging Carmy softly as Richie addresses you.

“You once made me $150 richer.” You laugh, exchanging a look with your now-husband, as you fondly remember the day you returned to Chicago, only to learn that the entire restaurant staff of The Bear had been betting, not on if, but on when you’d return.

“You see, we all took bets – all of us – that you were comin’ back after that first week you spent here in Chicago, and you know why? I think it was obvious to any jagoff with a pair of eyes that what you and Cousin had was something special – something not to be missed, or overlooked, or skipped over. And thank God you two idiots woke up and figured it out yourselves. You did good, cousin. And I know your brother would’ve wanted to be here for this. I love you, man. I love you both.”

“To this very special day, and to the rest of your lives. Cheers.”

“Cheers!” everyone repeats, raising their glasses, clinking in celebration.

The upside to having a small wedding party is having a small wedding party, and the downside is that everyone who feels the need to get in a word does so. While Ebraheim waxes on about love as a metaphor, Marcus keeps his toast short, leading to the cutting of your wedding cake:

Vanilla bean cake, with a clementine curd, a swiss meringue buttercream, decorated with delicate flowers, citrus, and dollops of curd to finish.

Richie slips out with Pete momentarily, earning a few quizzical looks from both Carmy and Nat as she gets up from the table to make sure they’re not trading punches in the driveway. It’s not till Richie returns with Pete, carrying a rented little karaoke machine for Ava. Hand in hand, you watch as Natalie guides Ava up and out of her chair, and over to the head of the table, handing her the microphone.

“You ready, sweetheart?” she asks, earning a confident nod from Ava.

The beginning of the famous Taylor Swift begins to play, and you and Carmy exchange a knowing look as she begins to sing along.

“we were both young when i first saw you i close my eyes and the flashback starts i'm standin' there on a balcony in summer air.”

As Natalie and Pete watch on, Pete hugs his wife close to her, tears in his eyes as he whispers:

“This is going to be us very, very soon.”

“Yeah,” Nat nods, holding back her own tears as she notices how proud Richie looks, and how happy Ava seems to be.

It’s not that she wants Donna here. Realistically, she knows that it would be a nightmare, most likely descending into drama and chaos from the minute she walked in, but she can’t believe that her own mother didn’t come to her son’s wedding. She shouldn’t be surprised, but it hurts more than she imagined, doing this, watching Carmy get married, having this baby with Pete, all without her.

Ava finishes her Taylor Swing song to a resounding and enthusiastic round of applause. Marcus cheers her on while you and Carmy share a soft, chaste kiss, welcoming Ava with open arms as she runs towards you.

“That was so good, baby,” Richie exclaims, when it’s his turn to scoop Ava up into his arms as you get out of your seat. Allowing Richie to sit next to Carmy while the two gush over her performance, you get up, eager to help put the karaoke machine away.

As she watches, Nat reminds herself that this is what family looks like – this is the family she wants for her baby – even if it means something, someones, are missing.

And it’s as if she can’t hold back her tears anymore, excusing herself as she jerks her body away from Pete’s grasp, hurrying back inside so as not to cause a scene.

“What just-?” Pete begins.

“I’ll go,” you assure him, having witnessed the whole interaction. “I-, it’s not you, Pete. I’ll go.”

It doesn’t take you long to find Nat, though she’s not where you expected her to be, having run all the way upstairs when you find her sitting on the floor of the baby’s nursery – one you helped paint and get ready over a month ago.

“Hey, everything alright?” you ask, as you gently push the door open.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” she sniffles, wiping tears out of her eyes as she realizes she’s no longer alone.

“Nat, what… what’s going on?” you ask her, joining her on the floor.

But it seems as if your question only makes it worse as her face crumbles once more, beginning to cry.

“Oh no! I-, Nat, sweetie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it even worse.”

“No, no, you didn’t. It’s just these… stupid pregnancy hormones!” she exclaims, frustratedly, earning a small laugh from the both of you.

She takes a beat, and then a breath, and then finally, she feels ready to tell you.

“It’s Mom,” she admits, even though she really doesn’t want it to be. “I just can’t believe she didn’t show. It’s stupid, I know.”

You nod in understanding, before scooting a little closer to her, “It’s not stupid! And I’m sorry. For the both of you, really. Carmy doesn’t want to talk about it but, I know he’s some combination of relieved and disappointed too.”

Sugar sighs, “Yeah that uh, that sums it up pretty well. About anything involving Mom these days.”

Nat takes another breath, and another beat, because she knows she’s safe to share this with you.

“I just… I’ve just been thinking a lot… with the baby and everything. About family. About motherhood. I mean, your parents are so great and I-. I’m just sad for us, you know?”

“I’m sad for you too,” you empathize, rubbing soothing circles on her back, before leaning back on both of your hands instead.

“God, I’m so sorry. It’s your wedding day and I’m causing all the drama,” Nat begins to apologize.

“Oh, you have nothing to be sorry for!” you interrupt her, quick to dismiss any notion of that. “You lent us your house and put together all of this in your backyard on top of accompanying us to the courthouse! You have nothing to apologize for.”

Sugar nods slowly, processing what you’ve just said, realizing that you and Pete have been such big role models of unconditional love for her.

“Wanna know what I think?” you ask, your voice a little more optimistic this time.

“What’s up?” she asks back, stealing a glance your way.

“I think… that now that I’m a Berzatto… and with your little Bear on the way,” you begin, painting her the picture. “We’ve got a whole new chance to write a new chapter for the Berzattos.”

She looks your way once more, because these are the words she didn’t know she needed to hear.

“And with that… we can make this… make our families anything we want them to be filled with love, and joy, and-, well, only a little drama because you know, you guys are… you. But… Sug. This can all start with us, you know?”

“You really think so?” she asks you, a hopeful look in her eyes.

“Yeah,” you answer, confidently.

She nods slowly once more, almost as if she’s letting herself believe them.

“Thank you. For checking in on me. For… this,” she says softly, sniffling again.

“That’s what sisters are for,” you repeat her words back to her, one’s that she’s said to you time and time again.

“We should probably get back out there,” Sugar suggests, sitting up a little taller this time.

“Yeeeaaaaahhhhh,” you sigh, disappointedly, this time making a joke as you continue with: “We don’t want to start any rumors about us running away together.

Nat snorts with laughter, thanking you for always making her laugh, as you stand up, making your way to your feet. You hold out your hands, helping Nat up to hers this time, before the two of you head back downstairs.

“Hey,” Carmy says, as soon as he sees the two of you. “Pete said you disappeared.”

“We were just talking about some stuff,” you reply, sharing a look with Sugar before releasing her hand.

“I’ll leave the two of you to it,” she says, before slipping out through the back door.

“Everything okay?” Carmy asks, his brow knitted together in concern.

You nod, “Yeah, she’s alright. How’re you doing?”

“Today? I’m the luckiest man in the world,” he replies, a smile on his lips that makes you melt.

“Damn right you are,” you reply, pressing your lips against his.

It’s a private moment for just you two, where you can kiss him like you want to, and you have to admit that the lipstick holds up. Wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands go to your waist, you propose a grand idea to your husband:

“Now that cake has been cut… what do you say… we spend a little more time with our guests, say our goodbyes… then we get our honeymoon started early? Think uh… our room at the Langham should be ready by now.”

“Thought we already did that this morning,” Carmy smirks, kissing you again.

You giggle, leaning your forehead against his, “You know what I mean, jerk.”

Carmy scoffs, shaking his head incredulously as he feigns hurt, “Married for a few hours and you’re already insulting me.” Instead of adding anything else, he simply pulls you in closer by your hips murmuring against your lips:

“Alright then, Mrs. Berzatto. Then let’s go say goodbye to our guests.”

“it's a love story, baby, just say, "yes" – taylor swift, ‘love story’

504 notes · View notes

y2kuromi · 10 months

Text

✶ : ❛ 𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗧𝗨𝗦 : seishiro nagi x reader ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა

˖ ִֶָ𐀔 — contents ⋮ birthday fic for moi <3 fluff, fluff, fluff, fem! reader, established relationship, nagi is literally whipped. reo being a d1 hater. pet names . second person (you/your/yours) and third person pov. w/c : 2.4k

if you told nagi he'd be sitting cross-legged in his kitchen picking thorns off pink roses and counting them under his breath while his best friend reo talked him through this (or at least attempted to), he would've laughed in your face. even more so if you'd told him his cheeks were flushed a shade darker than the soft petals he clutched and his heart hammered loudly in his chest. but here he was doing just that hours to your birthday

"what do you think?" nagi asked reo, bringing the bouquet into view. he was quite proud of the floral arrangement of roses, chrysanthemum, lotus and hydrangea flowers. "’s it too much?"

"it's pretty lame, why don't you just cover (y/n)'s apartment in rose petals instead" reo suggested, he was only kidding

"you just want to see me suffer" nagi grumbled. when he'd facetimed him for moral support, he hadn't expected him to crack jokes at his expense, "cleaning that up would be such a hassle"

"i'm surprised you made the bouquet yourself," reo said thoughtfully, "wouldn't ordering one be more your speed?"

"nahh" the grey-eyed boy shook his head, "(y/n) likes these specific flowers for some reason, florist didn't have any arrangements like this"

"so you just bought four bouquets....? you do know custom orders exist right?" there's a small smirk on reo's lips as he teased. nagi shot him a withering glare as he firmly tied the stems together with twine

"wouldn't be as special that way" nagi muttered. he was blushing again, despite being in the comfort of his own home, he could feel the blush still warming his neck and ears

"you really love her, huh?" reo questioned gently his eyes softening when he saw nagi shyly smile at him

"yeah..." nagi breathed out quietly, smiling softly down at the flower arrangement, "should i bake a cake?"

"what??"

"'ve got this heart-shaped pan, and i bought cake mix and some other stuff after training today. i think i could pull it off”

“are you sure about that?” reo queried, “i’m not gonna help you”

“that’s fine, not like you can bake anyways,” nagi scoffed, setting the flowers down on the counter. “it shouldn’t be that hard right?”

“depends on the flavour” reo affirmed

“what should i do for icing, buttercream?” nagi asked, picking up a bag of sugar and a tub of butter. “’s the easiest”

“buttercream then”

“i wasn’t really asking you, but sure”

“dumbass”

“(y/n)’s dumbass” he grinned, his voice softening at the mention of your name “god i hope she likes this. i feel like i could’ve done more”

“you made her a bouquet, you made her a gift basket and now you’re baking her a cake. you didn’t even get me anything for my birthday” reo said pointedly

“you’re not my girlfriend reo, and you can buy stuff for yourself”

“you’re a terrible friend”

“i’m a good boyfriend though” nagi said softly, “the best in the world”

reo couldn’t argue with that. nagi only put effort in the things he deemed important. you stood at the top of that list, above soccer, gaming and sleeping. he wanted nothing more than to make you happy.

to his credit, he tried his best. he went grocery shopping whenever you asked him to pick up groceries. he made sure you ate enough, and he always made time for you. even if he wanted to spend his entire day playing video games, he still made sure he was by your side.

he would do anything for you. hell, if you asked him to do a handstand and sing baby shark backwards, as stupid as it sounded, he would do it just to see your heartbreakingly beautiful smile

“‘m gonna make (y/n) breakfast in bed” he murmured, he could already see the smile stretching across your face “french toast or pancakes, dunno yet”

“you? cook?” reo laughed, “you’re gonna poison her”

“shut up” nagi scowled, his nose scrunching up in mock annoyance, “i know how to cook, ‘s just a hassle but if it’s for (y/n) i don’t mind” he said as he mixed the dry ingredients until the salt, sugar and cake mix were evenly combined. he cracked two large eggs into the bowl and poured in milk, oil and vanilla extract. the cake mix reminded him oddly of you. sweet and sugary

“you’re whipped” reo said. “you’re too far gone,look at your face all mushy like that you’re making me sick”

“‘s called being in love, not that you can relate” nagi retorted. he gently scooped the batter in the baking pan with a spatula while reo stared at him agape. “‘s obvious” he shrugged, slipping the pan into the pre-heated oven.he ran a hand through his hair as he leaned against the counter with a content look on his face

nagi was still learning what love really was. to him, it looked a lot like you.

loving you felt like breathing, like waking up in the morning after a good night’s sleep. he loved your smiles, your laugh, the sparkle you got in your eyes when you were around him. he loved everything about you. he’d probably never love anyone the way he loved you. and he was okay with that, he wouldn’t trade you for the world

“simp” reo said “ i’m surprised she puts up with your lazy ass”

“you call this moral support?” nagi muttered, “should’ve called someone else”

“who else would sit on facetime with you while you did all this?” reo asked, “i’ll wait”

nagi was deep in thought for a moment but he remained silent. he knew you would, but that would inherently ruin the surprise

"so, nobody, huh? thought as much," reo remarked, rolling his eyes, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. it was a breath of fresh air to not be the one pushing nagi to do something for once

*ding* nagi’s eyes lit up as the timer chimed. the kitchen was filled with the scent of freshly baked vanilla cake. he slipped on an oven mitt before he took the pan out of the oven and placed it on the island. his cheeks were flushed as he glanced over his shoulder to shoot him a triumphant look

“cake’s done” he was slightly giddy with anticipation, once he was done icing it he could finally drive to your apartment and see you. he knew you were already sleeping, he’d called you an hour ago and your voice had been laced with the precipice of sleep. he didn’t really care, he selfishly wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday. even if it meant waking you up at midnight

true to his word nagi slipped into your apartment as soon as the clock struck midnight. to his credit he was as quiet as possible. setting your presents down on the counter before sneaking into your room

the bed dips and suddenly there’s a warm body behind you. nagi wraps an arm around your waist, pressing himself closer to you. you let out a small noise as he pulls you in for a long kiss, his hand reaching up to stroke your cheek.

“sei…” you yawn, squinting at him with your sleepy (e/c) eyes. you’re unbelievably pretty he thinks. even with furrowed eyebrows and a worn-out look on your face. your lashes fan across your face and he can feel his heart melting

“happy birthday baby” he murmurs, placing the sweetest of kisses on your forehead.

“thank you” you hummed, resting your head on his chest, enjoying the warmth radiating from the blankets. “thought you weren’t coming till later…”

“couldn’t stay away” he admitted with a sigh, wrapping an arm around your waist, “‘m sorry i woke you”

“it’s okay” you smiled,you brush a few locks of his hair away from his forehead, leaning up slightly to peck his lips. you pulled back slightly content with blissfully reveling in his presence before you sat up properly, pulling back the covers and climbing out of your bed, “c’mon i want my presents now”

“what makes you think i got you anything?” he mutters. eager to stay cuddled up in bed. his hopes were dashed as you dragged him towards you

you wonder how someone could be as cute as he was, despite his hair being messed up more than ever and his eyelids heavy with sleep. you bring your free hand up to his cheek and smile. his hand comes up to hold yours as he nuzzles into your palm, soft grey eyes affectionate and loving, the everpresent pout no longer visible on his face.

“because you love me” you reply, smiling when he grins lazily at you, a little bit dazed

"i do love you," he mumbles, leaning up and slowly kissing the corner of your lips. “wait here” he tells you softly as he stands up, giving you another quick kiss. you watch him leave the room with a fond expression on your face.

your 6’3 boyfriend returns less than two minutes later, cradling a (f/c) box filled to the brim with your favourite snacks, manga and a fluffy miffy plush. as well as the prettiest bouquet of flowers you’d ever seen.

you practically tackle him, hugging him tightly as he laughs. you pull back to admire the flowers in his hands and you gasp, reaching out to take one of them.

“are those lotuses?” you ask, staring at them lovingly. they almost glow under the light in your bedroom

“yeah,” he nods, “you said you liked them”

you loved lotuses, although nagi didn’t understand why. the soft pink lotus flowers and their dreamy forgetfulness and symbolic unwillingness to leave reminded you distinctly of him

“they’re beautiful, thank you so much” you beam. you took the bouquet from him, eyes widening when you realized they weren’t store bought. tears pricked your (e/c) irises and you sniffle as you tried your best not to lose it.

“ hey!” he says, noticing the tearful expression on your face. he cups your face gently “don’t start bawling on me yet”

“you made this yourself?” you whisper, staring in awe at the bouquet, “for me?”

“do i have another girlfriend or something?” he says, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. you glare at him before laughing

“shut up, i love you” you say. you wrap your arms around his neck and give him a tight hug. or at least you try to, the box slightly gets in the way.

“i love you too” nagi smiles, and it’s one of those smiles he reserves for you, one that lights up his face and makes him shine brighter than any star, “now look at the rest, ‘m sorry i didn’t wrap anything”

“too much of a pain?” you asked, tilting your head to the side. he nodded in response, holding out the next gift. a sleek photo album. the first page is filled with a plethora of pictures. there were candid shots of you, pictures you didn’t even know existed. the one that stuck out to you the most was a picture of you at the arcade on your first date.

“you can fill up the rest yourself” nagi yawned, trailing towards your bed and placing the box carefully down on it. you placed the pink and purple bouquet on your dressing table before joining him

“thank you sei” you said, you honestly couldn’t say it enough. when nagi had asked you out a few months ago you’d never imagined he could possibly make you feel this special. hell, you didn’t even care about your birthday that much. you almost hated him now, he’d ruined your expectations for life by making you feel like this..

nagi’s grey eyes drooped as he leaned against your pillow, “s’nothing, there’s one more thing you’ve gotta see tonight” he lazily pointed at a white box tucked neatly beside the cinnamoroll plush with a striking resemblance to nagi

you opened the box gingerly, the sweet scent of buttercream filled your senses. “a cake?” you exclaimed, “sei, you baked?? you baked me a cake??”

“i baked” nagi shrugged, “’s just a small one, and ‘s not from scratch”

you dipped your finger into the buttercream and licked the sweet (f/c) frosting off, “this is really good,” you tell him

“‘m just good at everything” he murmurs, grinning when you gave him an exasperated glance “‘m glad you like it”

“of course i do” you frowned slightly, “sit up for just a second, you gotta sing while i blow out my candles”

“‘m not singing”

“pleaseeeeee” you pleaded, “it doesn’t even have to be the full song, you owe me sei, since you woke me up”

“fine” he sighed, sitting up reluctantly. he watched patiently as you placed the candles in the centre of the cake and pressed the flame to the wax. once the candles were lit, you reached over and grabbed his hand.

he thought you looked really beautiful like this, with the candlelight casting your features in warm glow and your hair fanned out over your shoulders. you seemed ethereal. he stared at you and smiled softly, watching as the flickering light danced on your face, casting shadows onto your (e/c) eyes

“i don’t hear you singing” you said, giggling when his cheeks flushed a startling shade of pink.

“shut up” he huffed, looking away, but you only grinned wider as he sang for you. you didn’t know why he didn’t want to in the first place, he sounded like an angel. after the song was finished, you blew out your candles gently

you wished for a plethora of things all of which you knew nagi would stop at nothing to give you. you felt like he’d given you the entire world already. so you wished you could give him endless happiness. you wished you could spend day after day falling further in love with him, and you wished you could give him the entire universe

after the cake had been kept safely in the fridge and your breathtaking flowers arranged in a vase, you placed a lone lotus flower on your bedside table, nimbly slipping under the sheets beside your sweet boyfriend

“what did you wish for?” he asks, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he kissed the top of your head

“my wish won’t come true if i tell you” you hummed.

“‘s not fair” he pouted, “i told you what i wished for on my birthday”

“if i kiss you will you shut up and go to sleep ?” you asked. nagi nodded meekly. you didn’t need to ask him twice. he’d do anything for you

#✶ .. mimi writes ?!#⋆ 𝓫. llk ﹕#𓂃˖ letters from: nagi #nagi x y/n #nagi x you #seishiro nagi x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #bllk x you #I HATE THIS #but i love it sm too ughh #he’s js so!?!?#my man my man my man!

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bbobpul · 1 year

Text

break my heart again — njm

PAIRING. na jaemin x female reader SUMMARY. y/n has a crush on jaemin so she decided to dedicate her entire college life to him. GENRE. angst, fluff W/C. 3.5k NOTE. hi, i'm back with a jaemin au. please comment your thoughts and reblog (IF U WANT TO OKIE?) enjoy reading, babes.

╰⁠(⁠ ⁠･⁠ ⁠ᗜ⁠ ⁠･⁠ ⁠)⁠➝ my other works !!!!! part two

i find it hard to picture myself ever being as dedicated to something or someone again, just like how i dedicated my entire college life to na jaemin.

lately, i've been feeling like i forgot what it's like to actually have a dream. back then, na jaemin was my dream, he was my driving force. i would force myself to wake up so early in the morning just so i could see him (or his car) enter the gates of the university. i would go to school even though i am sick and feel a lot better when i get home because i saw na jaemin. but now two years after graduating, i still haven't found a decent job that i actually enjoy.

it's a common experience that many people go through, and i suppose i shouldn't complain about it. maybe i need to put in more effort and push myself harder. part of me wonders if having na jaemin back in my life would rekindle that same sense of dedication that i once had. but as i say these thoughts out loud, they sound absurd, even to myself. why would i wish for my first love to return just so i could find a decent job? why would i long for na jaemin to come back merely to feel that spark in my life again? it's puzzling why i'm even dwelling on thoughts of him and wondering if he holds the key to my happiness and success.

it feels like a constant struggle between my heart and my mind. i love na jaemin and i always will but a lot of things happened and a lot of things have changed.

na jaemin has caused significant damage to both.

first year, in third person's pov

"hi, jaemin from the architecture building! you look reaaaally cool ! have this cookie.

ps. i am a really good baker"

jaemin read the note with a bewildered gaze and furrowed brows. as she moved away from him and gradually disappeared into the distance, he observed her. she had given him something before this week, not for the first time. the start of college had only been two weeks, and in that brief time, y/n had been continuously giving jaemin presents. whether it was food, pencils, or a handkerchief, it was usually the delectable stuff she baked herself.

on the other hand, y/n ran to the lecture room with the big window as soon as she left jaemin's building. she was at the ideal spot to see everything, including jaemin, the person who held her heart and was also her first love.

because she saw her crush and gave him another gift, which he gratefully accepted, she was grinning widely, an 18-year-old young woman having a good day.

however, she isn't entirely certain of that. y/n never saw jaemin use or consume any of the things she handed him. she never did a second check. she is not creepy in that way. but she's not really that foolish. y/n has doubts about jaemin's ability to keep what she provides him. she is therefore gazing at him from behind the window.

cold and silence filled the empty lecture hall. warmth filled y/n, and she could feel her heart thumping loudly inside her chest.

jaemin stood there for a moment, clutching y/n's note in his hand. however, instead of keeping it or cherishing the gesture, he proceeded to walk towards the gardens beside his building, making his way towards the trash can and threw the note away. this unexpected action left y/n feeling puzzled and somewhat disheartened.

after discarding the note in the trash can, jaemin made his way back to his building. y/n's attention shifted as she observed a group of people approaching jaemin, engaging in a lively conversation with him. seeing him happily interacting with his friends brought a smile to her face, knowing that he was surrounded by good company.

however, her confusion resurfaced when she noticed jaemin handing the paper bag she had given him to one of the girls in the group. it left her wondering why he didn't keep the gift for himself and why he chose to give it to someone else instead.

'oh,' y/n thought to herself, 'at least he didn't waste the food i gave him.' despite her disappointment, she found solace in knowing that her gift, the one she had carefully prepared, wasn't entirely disregarded.

as she silently observed the scene, her heart raced with an intensity that almost drowned out all other sounds. the thumping in her chest echoed so loudly that she failed to notice the time. caught in the moment, she couldn't tear her eyes away as jaemin entered the lecture room in his building.

her mesmerizing watchfulness caused her to lose track of time, and before she knew it, she was late for her next subject. but despite the consequences, she couldn't help but linger a little longer, hoping to catch another glimpse of jaemin, the person who had unknowingly become the center of her world.

after what happened, y/n never stopped. she is the textbook definition of complete commitment. as long as na jaemin knows her, there is something in her that believes that na jaemin will learn how to love her.

second year

once again, life has taken many twists and turns, bringing about significant changes.

amidst it all, y/n's unwavering commitment and dedication to na jaemin remained steadfast, even growing stronger over time.

when she learned from his friends that he often skipped breakfast, relying solely on coffee, y/n's concern for his well-being took center stage. without a second thought, she began preparing packed lunches for jaemin, determined to ensure he didn't go through his days on an empty stomach.

this act of caring displayed the depth of her feelings and the lengths she was willing to go to look out for him.

on the other hand, na jaemin continued with his usual routine. upon receiving y/n's notes, he would read them briefly before tossing them away, seemingly unaffected by their contents. similarly, he would pass on the items she gifted him to any of his friends without much thought or consideration. it became evident that jaemin's actions were a stark contrast to y/n's heartfelt gestures, leaving her to wonder why her expressions of care and affection didn't seem to have a significant impact on him.

y/n is well aware of the reality of the situation, and she's not naive. however, a part of her still clings to the same belief she had back in her first year. deep down, she holds onto the hope that as long as na jaemin knows her, there's a chance he might eventually learn how to love her in return. despite the challenges and past disappointments, this glimmer of optimism persists within her heart, keeping her hopeful for a future that may yet unfold.

third year

"hey, jaemin," y/n had been practicing those two words for what felt like an eternity, or maybe three years. this would be the first time she'd initiate a conversation with him this year. in the past, they hadn't exchanged many words, and this might be the longest interaction they've had.

"i have a friend who's studying the same course as you, and he's very sick right now. i was wondering if i could borrow your notes for him?" she asked, putting on a friendly smile.

"who's your friend?" jaemin inquired after a few moments of silence.

"renjun. i'm sure you know him. he's a pretty outstanding student," y/n replied, maintaining her smile.

"uh, yeah. i don't have any notes right now since i'm headed somewhere, but i'll give them to you later," he said, scratching his head.

"can i get your insta?" jaemin suddenly asked, catching y/n off guard and making her flustered.

"h-huh?" y/n stammered, puzzled by his request.

"so i can contact you and give you the notes," jaemin explained.

"oh!" y/n exclaimed, finally understanding his intention.

jaemin handed his phone to y/n, and she quickly typed in her username. he then called her there to verify if it was correct, and when her phone rang, jaemin started to walk away, seemingly content with the exchange.

"i really thought it would be you," y/n murmured to herself, her disappointment evident.

despite feeling let down, y/n gathered her emotions and began walking towards the library, which lay three buildings away from her current location. as she strolled, her mind was preoccupied with thoughts about who gigi might be. y/n had a close circle of friends among jaemin's acquaintances, yet no one had ever mentioned anyone named gigi. this led her to ponder whether gigi was someone special to jaemin or simply a random person in their department that he asked to deliver the notes.

a smile tugged at the corners of her lips at the idea that jaemin would go to great lengths just to ensure she received the notes, even disturbing someone from his own class to pass them on when he couldn't do it himself.

but y/n soon chided herself for entertaining such thoughts, recognizing that she might be crossing into a realm of delusion. still, in the midst of her contemplations, there remained a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, jaemin's actions held a deeper significance.

y/n settled down on one of the bean bags near the entrance of the library, strategically positioning herself for gigi to easily spot her. despite being in the library now, her thoughts were still consumed by questions about who this mysterious gigi could be. she was aware that she shouldn't be dwelling too much on a stranger, but doubts had begun to creep in, even though she knew she shouldn't entertain them.

as she waited, her mind oscillated between curiosity and uncertainty, grappling with the urge to push these thoughts aside and focus on other matters. y/n was determined to keep her emotions in check, yet the enigmatic presence of gigi kept tugging at her thoughts, creating an internal struggle she couldn't entirely ignore.

y/n's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a voice calling out to her, "hey, y/n, right?" it was gigi.

surprised but composed, y/n responded, "hi, yes. it's me."

gigi smiled and handed over the notes, saying, "here are the notes. i need to leave right away since i have somewhere to be."

"alright, thanks a lot. goodbye," y/n replied with gratitude, watching gigi leave as she contemplated the encounter and the enigmatic figure who had delivered the notes. the brief interaction only deepened her curiosity about gigi, leaving her with even more questions than before.

feeling all kinds of emotion, y/n put the notes in her bag and reminded herself to pass by renjun's apartment later to give it to him.

fourth year

as graduation approached for y/n, she couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency. with only one more year left for jaemin before he graduated, she knew this was her chance to go all out. this year, she continued her tradition of sending him notes and small gifts, but there was one significant difference - she finally had the courage to engage in conversation with him.

they had slowly transitioned into friends, and y/n couldn't be more thrilled. woohoo! it all began when she got his number after their third year ended. from that point on, they started going out for lunch once every two months. it wasn't a regular occurrence, only happening when they both remembered each other or when jaemin had free time from his monthly or weekly important errands.

despite the infrequent meet-ups, y/n cherished every moment they spent together. gradually, their bond grew stronger, and y/n treasured the gradual transformation of their relationship, hoping that this newfound closeness would eventually lead to something more.

this is the side of jaemin that y/n waited 3 and a half years for.

lunch it is.

the pattern had become all too familiar - na jaemin would meet with y/n for lunch, only to vanish afterward for reasons y/n couldn't quite fathom. he would claim that the demands of his architecture studies were intense, requiring months of unwavering focus. while y/n understood the challenges of his field, she couldn't help but sense that there was more to his absences than met the eye.

"Why does he need two phones anyway?" Y/n mumbled under her breath as she reached the table.

A sigh of relief escaped her when she spotted Jaemin's phone resting on the table, glad to see it wasn't lost or stolen.

"He's stupid," she grumbled to herself as she noticed his phone screen lit up. She instinctively reached for the phone, intending to turn it off. However, as she held it, her eyes couldn't help but wander to the conversation displayed on the screen - a conversation that unexpectedly caught her attention. Despite not intending to pry, the mention of her name within that conversation stirred her curiosity, prompting her to read further.

y/n was fully aware that what she had done was wrong on so many levels. she knew she shouldn't have invaded his privacy by reading that private conversation. however, strangely enough, she felt a sense of gratitude for stumbling upon the truth she never knew she needed.

the revelation hit hard: na jaemin was only with her out of weariness. he had grown tired of her and all her expressions of affection - the gifts, the packed lunches, and her feelings. it left y/n questioning herself, wondering if she had been too overbearing or intrusive. but she couldn't ignore the fact that na jaemin was straightforward, and she would have stopped if he had just told her to do so. y/n was always understanding and respectful of boundaries.

yet, the truth remained a bitter pill to swallow. it hurt to realize that she had been fooling herself, clinging to hope and misinterpreting his actions as genuine interest. now, faced with the reality of his weariness, y/n couldn't help but grapple with the thought of letting go and moving on, even if it meant relinquishing the connection she had longed for with na jaemin.

"y/n, sorry i took so long. it started raining outside," jaemin explained as he approached her. "why aren't you seated?" he asked with concern.

y/n quickly wiped her tears, trying to compose herself before facing jaemin. however, her tear-stained cheeks gave away her emotions, taking jaemin aback.

"i'm so sorry, jaem," y/n managed to say before turning away and walking off, leaving jaemin bewildered by her sudden departure.

instinctively, jaemin followed after her, his confusion growing with each step he took. he couldn't understand why y/n was upset, and his heart sank at the thought of having caused her pain. he needed to find out what happened, to make things right again.

in the pouring rain, jaemin continued calling out y/n's name until they reached the parking lot, both now drenched.

"sorry for what, y/n?" jaemin inquired, trying to understand her sudden distress.

"for everything," y/n hastily replied, her focus on locating her car in the vast parking lot.

"did something come up? do you need me to drive you there? y/n, please talk to me," jaemin pressed, genuine concern etched on his face.

"i don't need you to do anything, jaemin!" y/n retorted sharply, her emotions getting the better of her.

jaemin fell silent, taken aback by the intensity of her outburst.

"did i do something, hmm?" jaemin countered, trying to make sense of her anger.

"did i tire you out?" y/n asked, leaving jaemin even more puzzled.

"were the packed lunches annoying? did the gifts annoy you? you know you could have easily told me to stop if you hated it. but you kept accepting it, you kept accepting me!" her words poured out, tinged with frustration and uncertainty.

"what are you talking about?" jaemin asked, genuinely bewildered by her accusations.

"you could've easily told me to go away and forget my feelings. why did you have to lie to me, huh?!" y/n's voice cracked with emotion as she bared her heart, seeking answers that seemed to elude her in this turbulent exchange.

in that moment, y/n's anger felt misplaced and unjustified. she couldn't help but feel that jaemin had every right to be weary of her.

"did you read it?" jaemin asked calmly.

"i'm... i'm sorry. i know i shouldn't have," y/n confessed, her remorse evident.

jaemin got his answer. she had indeed read the private conversation. if it were someone else invading his privacy, he might have reacted with anger, but instead, he felt sorry and scared. not for himself, but for y/n. he worried that she might have misunderstood the context of the conversation and jumped to conclusions that could hurt her even more. despite the hurtful truth she had stumbled upon, jaemin couldn't bear to see y/n burdened by further pain because of it.

"y/n.. i'm sorry," jaemin started. the rain continued to drench the both of them. "i'm sorry if i'm only acknowledging your feelings now. i'm sorry for lying to you. but i can't. friendship is the only thing i could offer to you. i'm not capable of loving anyone, y/n. not right now."

"i'm sorry too, jaem." y/n looked into his eyes with so much pain seeing nothing but pity to her and now she felt more bad. one last look into the man she loves before leaving everything behind.

weeks after that

from the instant she started moving away, a sense of unease settled upon y/n. in the days leading up to graduation, doubt gnawed at her, as if the choices she had made over the past four years were suddenly cast into uncertainty, leaving her with a haunting feeling of investing time in something that might not have been the right path.

stripped of her sole motivating factor, all due to her own foolishness.

in a decisive act, she meticulously cut the threads that bound her to jaemin, even extending her detachment to a few of his closest companions. a profound sentiment of shame now courses through her veins, an emotion as palpable as the weight of those four years that has suddenly descended upon her. the relentless toil, the countless hours spent perfecting recipes and perusing stores, each instance accompanied by the whispered refrain, 'this would bring a smile to jaemin,' now lingers in the air, suspended like the remnants of a wistful dream, leaving her heart heavy with a sense of squandered devotion.

a few more days slipped by, and y/n couldn't shake off that familiar feeling. today was supposed to be a total high point, a day of triumph. but with all those self-doubts clouding her mind, she wasn't sure if she had the green light to party. that whole jaemin situation still stung, and it was like an unwelcome guest at her celebration.

amidst the sea of fellow graduates, y/n ascended the stage, the cheers of thousands echoing around her. as she stood there, a distinct yearning tugged at her heart, a search for something or someone that eluded her in that very instant. a mere glimpse would have sufficed to fill the void she felt. yet, she was aware of the futility, for the one she sought, jaemin, was not among those donning the graduation cap this year. a year still separated his own moment of triumph from hers.

y/n returned home that evening, burdened by an unseen weight in her chest. little did she realize that the heaviness would escalate the instant she crossed her apartment threshold and unlocked her phone. it was as if the weight could transcend reality, threatening to plummet through the floor, shattering tiles and disrupting the tranquility of the neighbor residing below.

what unfolded before her eyes was a paradox, an unexpected contradiction to the jaemin who had shattered her heart. there he stood, unreservedly embracing a sense of love and joy, his beaming image accompanied by the words, "four years, finally. congrats!" the sight was jarring, a stark contrast to the version of him she had come to know. in that moment, it became painfully evident that the subject of the image was not her, nor would it ever be.

"guess you're capable of love after all," y/n mused inwardly, a bitter smile tugging at her lips as she stared at her phone.

fast forward two years, and it hit her like a ton of bricks – that was the moment of clarity. the very point where she finally untangled herself from him, and in the process, freed her own heart. she figured out something pretty straightforward: love wasn't some rare skill, it was just a matter of who you're dealing with. and right then and there, it struck her like lightning that jaemin was never going to be the one for her.

back in the mix of it all, two years back, she made a pact with herself – one day, she'd break free from the cycle of falling for him. she harbored a hope, a wish for the future: that someone, someday, would come along and love her just as fiercely as she had loved him.

————————————————————————————

part two :)))))))

#Spotify #jaemin x reader #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #jaemin x y/n #jaemin angst #jaemin fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream x reader #nct dream angst #nct dream #jaemin #yo0nzino #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct fluff

265 notes · View notes

mothiir · 1 month

Note

sorry to be that rehash that droid de suggondeez plotline (I REFUSE TO CORRECTLY SPELL FRENCH) with big e stealing a wife but could we pretttty ppLEAAAASE get some more mothiir? i am obsessed with the eldritch inhuman but human behaviour you write him with. it makes me want to chew on him while simultaneously wanting to beat him with a brick out of hatred. i have so many ideas. but ill take anything you offer up fr ill live off the scraps like a feral dog, its just that the the whole david and goliath vibe is TASTYYYY. please dignify my complete insanity for just an intsy winsy second because all i can imagine is how utterly FUCKED the stolenwife!reader's pov is. you try fight back a little too much? oh haha, ur so cute, but keep biting or scratching him and he'll sicc one of the custodes (or a few) to really try you out. let you be so overstimulated youre begging for something in you, and oh boy big e'll sooo do that dont worry. or maybe humble you by keeping you basically half bare like yeah not so cocky now LMFAO IM SO SORRY I NEVER GIVE PROMPTS SO BRAZENLY LIKE THIS BC IM A COWARD FULL OF SHAMEEE UR SO MUCH BRAVER THAN MEEE (thank you sm if you do or dont run with anything i spat out just then)

first of all, never apologise for requesting stuff and also i totally respect your disrespect of the French language. as an englishwoman i am contractually obligated to hate those frog-eating bastards (disclaimer: this is satire pls don’t cancel me). secondly i absolutely love your description of my interpretation of big e because it is also exactly how i feel about him. beat him with brick, pat hair, back to brick. I know i have moved away from that content but I still wave my emperor fucker flag and am always taking requests for him

i promise there will be actual coherent fic soon, but for now here is a bullet pointed list of the sort of things that guilliwife experiences (if there is one in particular you want a full fix of let me know):

the Emperor steals you, and does not think to tell Guilliman — why would he? He fucks you, enjoys it tremendously, then has to go and do some important Master of Mankind warp fuckery that means you spend about a fortnight in some random rooms with no one to talk to but the Custodes. And they barely talk! You never work out if they are bodyguards or prison guards, since you can’t imagine that you are important enough to warrant guarding, but you also don’t think that there is much effort needed to stop you escaping. Where would you even go?

It would be so much easier if he was always a selfish monster in bed — but he isn’t. Worse: he eats pussy exactly how you think a man with millennia of practice would. He likes bringing you to the very edge of orgasm and just stopping, pillowing his cheek on your stomach and watching as you whine and cry, partly with guilt and partly with sheer frustration. You end up begging him to fuck you, stumbling out every title you can think of — lord, emperor, sire, master — but his patience is limitless, and he can keep going for hours, until you’re completely insensible, promising every depraved thing if he will just stop teasing and put it in you

You belong to him. No one else is allowed to touch you — apart from valdor, one of his oldest friends and dearest allies. And captain Kytan. And a few other custodes. Sometimes at the same time. They’re extensions of his most absolutely not divine will — they can partake in the same luxuries he allows himself, otherwise what kind of a leader would he be? He likes seeing his best soldiers happy, especially when it’s because valdor is balls deep in your arse, while he enjoys the sweet warm stretch of your throat. You jostle and whimper between them, so full that you can barely breathe, and afterwards the emperor watches as valdor thumbs open your cheeks, just to watch your holes struggle to close up around the shape of his cock. Still, valdor can’t linger too long - there is already a line

He will cum inside you so much you swear your stomach bulges a little from it all. You have nightmares about popping like a balloon

eventually word reaches the Emperor that Guilliman is looking to speak to him as a matter of urgency — he is currently buried deep in your throat, enjoying the cute little gluck-gluck-gluck noises your gag reflex makes as you try to fit him all the way into your tight gullet. He does not ask you to stop this before answering the vox from a distraught Roboute, who is blathering about his fiancée going missing? The Emperor chuckles a little to himself, patting your hair — ah, having a woman to be wed and a woman in his bed, Roboute is far more like his father than first thought — wait. Ah. Singular woman. Singular. Shit.

#emperor/reader #headcanons #my writing #ask me

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cwritesforfun · 7 months

Text

The Bear: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x Fem!Reader: The Date

Part two to Crush & I do not own the Bear characters!!!

Y/N = Your Name

Your POV

You feel warm and as you notice that Carmy's arms are tightly wrapped around your chest. Someone got awfully comfortable last night not that you mind. Carmy stretches next to you and says, "Morning." You say, "Morning. How was your rest?" He answers, "I feel great and it might be the best I've felt in a while after sleeping. I feel rested for once in my life." You reply, "You should make this a thing. You should take off once a week. You work so hard. You deserve it." He replies, "Maybe so. It could also be our thing." You kiss him on the cheek and reply, "It should. That's cute." He smiles and asks, "What do you have for breakfast?" You answer, "Several options... I mainly have stuff for breakfast burritos or pancakes." He asks, "What do you want? I want to make you food." You reply, "We can have breakfast burritos. I'll show you where stuff is."

You show him stuff in the kitchen then you notice your phone buzzing, so you talk with your mom. She's surprised that a boy is at your place and that he's technically your boss. She also is happy for you because she loves and supports you.

When you get off the phone with your mom, you go to see how Carmy is doing and he has everything organized. It’s like he’s a Chef for a living or something. You lean against the counter and ask, "How's it going?" He answers, "Good. I like how many kitchen gadgets you have." You laugh and say, "Yeah I like fun little things that make cooking easier for me." He says, "I understand that. Who were you talking to?" You answer, "My mom. We talk at least once a week to just catch up about how our week went." He replies, "I heard my name mentioned. I hope you said good things about me." You smile and say, "Of course, I did. My mom was just surprised a guy was staying over at my place and that it was technically my boss. She told me to be safe and to have fun. She supports me." He replies, "I think we'll have fun and be safe. You can tell her I will always keep you safe. Changing topics, but breakfast is ready, but I don't know if you want something to drink or what you have." You reply, "I'll make some coffee."

After enjoying breakfast as you watch TV, Carmy asks, "Can I tell you something?" You answer, "Sure." He replies, "I think you're just really amazing and beautiful and perfect. I am so lucky I get to take you on a date today and I want you to know I'm really happy. Usually, dates make me really anxious, but being around you makes me feel comfortable. You also always make me feel supported and understood whenever I'm around you. Every day, you make me feel loved and we weren’t even dating until now. I appreciate that." You reply, "That's so sweet. Thank you so much. Speaking of our date, what are we going to do today?" He answers, "I don't really know. I was hoping we could talk through some ideas. I honestly didn’t think you would even like me back.” You ask, “Why not? You’re a great guy. Any girl would be honored to be with you.” He answers, “I … I’ve always thought that I wasn’t worth all the time and effort people put into relationships. I thought I was more of a low-commitment guy with only friends with benefits who show up once a month when I take a day off. I never thought I would be someone to like this amazing girl and them like me back." You smile and say, "This amazing girl really likes you." He smiles and asks, "Is it okay if we kiss?" You answer, "It's more than okay." He cups your face gently and presses his lips gently to yours.

You both get dressed and get into your car. Carmy drives you to pick up food for a picnic at a park. You get all your favorite snacks and drinks. It'll be so fun.

The picnic at the park goes really well. You both spend it getting to know each other more and just enjoying your day off. The sky gets dark and you make it to your car just before it starts to pour.

You both then go to the movie theater and you go see some new comedy that is out. You get snacks and drinks there too.

After the movies, Carmy asks, "I know this is a long shot, but uh is there any way I could stay with you again tonight? I just had a really good night's sleep and I want to be ready for Monday." You answer, "Of course. You might need a change of clothes though. Do you want to borrow my car tomorrow? I work from home tomorrow and I trust you." He asks, "Are you sure?" You answer, "I'm very sure. Drop me off at my place on the way back so I can get started on dinner for us then go pick up your clothes. Just make sure to park my car in spot 120 in the parking garage on your way back." He replies, "Ok. I'll hurry. I don't want you doing all the cooking for our dinner." You reply, "It's okay. I like cooking." He replies, "That's something we have in common." You smile.

Carmy drops you off and you start dinner. You decide to make homemade pizza, salad, and cookies. Luckily you have cookie batter from 2 days ago that you needed to bake, so that part is easy. You have homemade pizza dough that you were going to cook tonight anyway, so this works out. You just need to cut some toppings for the pizzas. You don't know Carmy's favorite pizza yet.

Someone knocks and Carmy walks in with a bag. He tosses it down and you both go to the kitchen. He exclaims, "It already smells good in here. What are you making?" You answer, "I had planned to have homemade pizzas tonight, so I'm chopping toppings for that. I also baked some leftover cookie dough that I had. I want to make a salad too. I don't know what you like on your pizza though. What else do you think we need?" He looks around and answers, "Honestly, I think we're good. I'd eat all this on a pizza. What do you like on your pizza?" You answer, "Cheese or pepperoni are classic staples. But, pulled pork and pear on pizza with mozzarella is to die for." He replies, "God, that sounds delicious. I like Margherita pizza with some sausage and extra cheese." You reply, "That sounds good too. I think we have everything for that, but sausage." He replies, "I'm willing to try it with the pulled pork." You reply, "Cool, we can each make our favorite pizza so we can both try it." He nods.

After cooking the pizzas, you both set the table with all of the delicious food. This looks like heaven.

Carmy LOVES your pizza and you enjoy the one he created. You won't tell him, but you still prefer your own.

You watch another movie that night before going to bed. You both take separate showers then you cuddle in bed.

Masterlist

#carmy the bear #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear imagine #the bear hulu #the bear

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witheredsnow · 5 months

Text

A short story of an aroace friend's POV

Bright lights, lively music, and people with their friends and/or partners. It is the end of a long school year and everyone want to quickly forget about school work. A party to celebrate the last day of highschool. A last for many of us here.

A last for me and you too.

I do not let it show on my face. The bitter sweet feeling. Although, it's mostly bitter.

But... You're smiling, happy. You look back to me when I don't catch up with your excited gait. You were looking forward to this night. So I could not say no when asked.

I love your smile, did you know? I put effort to ensure to be partly credited to that smile this time... So, won't you smile at me a bit longer?

....

I smile slightly back, nonchalant after my pause to stare and monologue for a bit. You notice that I've been absent-minded. You ask, and I say I'm fine.

I cut myself off from straying thoughts. I could not afford to miss the smile that I won't be able to see again. Especially after I put much effort to make you smile.

I focus on the now and here.

Before I noticed, you have hooked our arms. You were always excitable so you end up hooking your arm with mine to pull me along.

Smiling and laughing, all care-free.

Like always.

Back then too.

I wish we could stay like this.

How hard I tried to.

.......

Before...

I wonder if you knew, if you would ever know, how I truly felt.

One morning, we walked to school together like any other. Matching your pace despite my impatience with everyone else.

We continue to chat on the way. Conversation continue to flow until you stopped and stared. I stopped as well, confused.

I sometimes wished I walked on, faster and uncaring, maybe drag you away as well.

I didn't think that would be the start of the end.

I asked, curious. You seemed to be staring at someone, in a gaze that I could not comprehend. And, well there is a someone just in front of us, a someone behind us and a someone on the side.

Back then, I didn't think that someone in particular would be the one... You would choose.

......

I remembered.

That one time. Or rather, multiple times.

Why?

We used to chat and welcome all sorts of topics. From the philosophical to nonsensical... When did it to turn to talking about... That person.

You gushed about them, all useless details to me. I listened, despite uninterested. I listened patiently like I always did, but this time, I didn't like the topic. Yet I did not say. Ah, how unfortunate to be an introvert at that moment.

I apologised in my heart many times for thinking that way.

I guess that's when I started feeling bitter.

....

And oh, how more bitter I was after.

You told them... What?! I didn't know that. We were supposed to be each other's confidants, right?

They're your friend, you say? Then what about me? I only learned of the issue after.

You... Why? I didn't ask them why, it made me feel pathetic. Maybe... It's not a big thing. Maybe... I'm over reacting.

And huh, they're friends apparently... Since... I don't know.

Huh.

...

.......

Tears wet your face and I was bearing witness to that more frequently now.

Who did they cry for? For that person.

Why did you cry? Oh, you saw them with this person and that person. Oh, someone seemed to have gotten up and close with them. Oh, someone asked to be alone with them.

I sat down with you. Patiently.

I care about you. You did and do know that, right?

Really, do you really know that?

Recently, that person had been bringing you more laughter and smiles. They had become your friend, your partner-in-crime, and your confidant.... More than I had been.

Oh how I wished to had have a heart to turn you away when you needed someone when the one who hurt you was that person.

But I smiled in consolation despite feeling pierced once more with a sharp wave of disappointment and hurt—No! Stop. I would not think that way of you.

Although I will admit that I was annoyed.

As much as they give you joy, a different kind of joy than I could, they give you just as much sorrow.

........

Huh...

....

I asked you that one time.

Do you care more about them than me?

How that question came about, I couldn't remember.

Your answer... I smiled silently in response because you said it was me. Lie.

When I asked you why you cared for that person in that way a different time... You told me of a foreign but familiar feeling. It was the same feeling I had towards you yet you said it was different. Huh...

When you felt heart broken, I wondered why.

You wanted their care as well.

And I stupidly asked whether if my care wasn't enough.

You told me it wasn't the same thing again.

Huh...

I feel another pang of pain.

.....

If I helped you fulfill your want of the. , would you smile at me again? Would it relieve you? Could we be friends again since you're no longer that worried or insecure? Wait, scratch that last one. We were still friends, right?

....

Maybe we were not. Or maybe this is just me being selfish and being the insecure one.

I don't see you often in the morning to go to school anymore. When I do, they're with you...

You sat with them and visit them more frequently than me these days. And oh, he lived in the neighborhood...

You talk more animatedly too. Like what we used to do even if it was mostly you...

That... Nice.

Maybe that's simply affection I could not understand despite helping you fulfill it.

I'm happy for you... Truly....

Even if it was painfully bitter.

....

It took me a while to make the decision. And I can not lie and say that I won't have regrets... But I really don't like pain. I also hate bitterness. That's why I don't eat vegetables.

Oh... I'm zoning out from the present again.

Yes, my monologue is done.

You chuckle and playfully hit my arm. Then told me that I seemed to be more absent-minded these days like I'm not present with you most of the time.

I laugh slightly at that and my lips quirk up.

Oh, there they are. You released my arm and went to them after saying few brief words to me.

I smile, a smile that didn't reach my eyes.

Why so quick to leave me again? Oops, that came about a bit too bitter.

You're smiling atleast. Isn't that what I hoped for... Although, honestly, I know that wasn't what I truly hoped for.

Hah... It's still hurting.

...

#aroace #Friend POV #aromantic #asexual #rei's random stuff #writers on tumblr #written

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sednonamoris · 2 years

Text

violence and timing

Pairing: John Price x gn!reader

Summary: Price is captured by Makarov’s men. It’s difficult to grapple with your feelings for him while mounting a rescue operation - thankfully you learned from the best.

Warnings: Torture + waterboarding (not intensively detailed), canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, strong language, not really a warning but dual POV

Word count: 2,526

A/N: Takes place after call off the dogs (and come home to me) and let me love the lonely out of you, but you don’t have to have read either for this to make sense!! You can also find this story on AO3

—

Price has always had a knack for knowing things he shouldn’t.

When he was a little boy he knew something in their house scared his mother despite the brave face she put on. As a young man he knew there was an ugly price to pay to keep the world right despite what everyone said on the news. Right now, he knows he’s being held underground despite his captors’ best efforts to disorient him. Knows there’s one light source in this room despite the bag over his head. Knows his team will come for him despite their inevitable orders not to.

No one fights alone, he can hear their voices chorus.

But he is alone, behind enemy lines and waiting for the creak of rusty hinges to signal the next round of torture. It’s been mostly waterboarding, so far - nothing creative. His stoic silences and rasped insults have been met with poorly concealed impatience and base violence. Apparently Makarov never bothered to tell his men that you can’t break someone who’s already broken; They’ll get nothing from him. Bloody amateurs.

If anything, he’s more occupied with the frustration that these people managed to get the drop on him at all. He could’ve kicked himself the second he realized exactly how many of them were swarming his overwatch position, but at least it was him and not his team. Not Ghost, who’s been through enough hardship already. Not Gaz, so young and burning so bright. Not Soap, with enough heart for all of them and then some. Not Hound, who—

Not Hound.

Anyone but Hound.

He lets himself wonder, distantly, wistfully, if he’ll ever get to see that fierce face he’s grown to love so much again. Then the door screams open. Heavy footsteps approach. His captors laugh and exchange cruel jabs in Russian. A faint, grim smile twists his lips before they pull the hood off.

—

These have been the worst seventy-two hours of your life. Too long for a hostage, but still not enough time to separate you from seeing Price brutalized by Makarov’s men, from hearing the sickening crunch as his audio cut out over comms, from watching helplessly while they carried him away from you.

“Hound, get everyone out of--!” plays in your head on a loop. The desperation, the fear, the crack in his voice as he shouted those words as loud as his wartorn lungs could. You nearly took Ghost’s head off for holding you back upon hearing them.

His last words.

You hope to God they’re not his last words. Setting your jaw, you promise yourself that they won’t be.

“You doing alright, mate?” Gaz asks. His voice is so much softer than usual. Serious.

“No.” The admission burns on your tongue. “We need to move fast if we don’t want to be bringing home a bleedin’ body bag.”

He clasps a warm hand to your shoulder and squeezes. “Cap’s tough. We’ll get him back in one piece.”

You offer a nod, but can’t bring yourself to say anything more. Pulling anything out of you has been like pulling teeth since he was taken.

After explaining the bare bones of the situation, Nik agreed to pilot you all out to where Price is being held - some abandoned gulag in The-Middle-of-Fucking-Nowhere, Russia. Anything for a friend, Tserber, he’d said over the phone, and you could have cried in relief. The helo ride has been uncharacteristically quiet. Even Soap struggles to lighten the mood.

The Russian landscape passes beneath you, snow-capped forests and wide open tundra in turn. You find yourself wondering if he’s cold, of all things. Trapped in some tiny cell, no food or water, certainly nothing to ward off the subzero temperatures of an unheated, underground facility.

Fuck.

You both knew that being together would cause more problems than it solved, at the end of the day, but you’ve never taken a moment to consider how strange your circumstances truly are until now. Most people worry about their partners driving in slippery conditions getting back from the grocery store - something dangerous, sure, but also achingly mundane. Here you are worried about yours overnighting as a hostage in an off-the-grid prison facility.

Nik sets down three klicks out, give or take. Hoofing it to Price will be the easy part. You just have to hope he can make the trek back. There’s a small comfort in knowing that any one of you would rather carry him the whole way than leave him behind.

Nik makes a move to grab a gun but you stop him with a shake of your head. “We need you here on stand-by so we can take off straight away. I’ll radio you the moment we have him.”

His eyes soften a fraction at the look on your face. “Good luck, my friend.”

“Spasibo,” you offer a grim smile, then turn to face the rest of your team. Their somber faces are turned to you, waiting. “We’ve got a hike ahead of us, lads, and a load of cunts waiting to get their brains blown out. Silencers on every gun, knives when you can - let’s keep this quiet as long as possible. When we breach I want radio silence ‘til someone grabs Price.”

“Hound and I will go for the Captain,” Ghost adds. “Johnny, Gaz, you two keep the exit clear. Anything goes wrong, you bail and head back to Nikolai. Hound and I will sort out alternative exfil if needed. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Rog’,” they chorus. They won’t bail, you know, or at the very least they’ll put up a fight, but they both know better than to argue that right now.

You nod gratefully towards them all before heading out. It’s a long, cold journey ahead and you need to haul ass if you’re going to get in and out before nightfall.

—

“Tell us what you know!” The demand is punctuated with a heavy blow across his face.

Price bares his teeth through a mouth full of blood. “Fuck you.”

“Let me say again,” his captor leans down close to his face with violence on his breath. “You will tell us what you know, SAS. It might be now, it might be later, but I will get it out of you.”

He doesn’t speak another word, but the unmasked hatred written across his face says everything.

—

It’s easy for you and Ghost to slip into a deadly rhythm after working together so long. Crouch, sneak, crunch; slow, fast, slice. His throwing knives whisper death into the cracked concrete halls. Your longer close-combat ones sing an old, bloody song in tandem when you sink them into enemy soldiers - each just one more obstacle between you and Price. You let them bite into the soft flesh between armor plating, right at the junction where their neck meets their shoulder, and think about the way John kisses you there in soft morning light, his whiskers ticklish, his sleepy smile pressed into your skin.

The prison is in bad shape. Metal bars on cramped cells are composed more of rust than iron, flaking off in a toxic shade of orange-brown. The floor is sturdy concrete but even it has seen better days. Bloodstains. Miscellaneous debris. Most of it looks old, at least a decade just sitting and wasting. There are newer scuff marks in the dust, fresher blood that leads you down, down, and further down the echoing halls. You try not to think about the struggle Price must have put up. Or worse, if he hadn’t put one up at all - the drag of his unconscious body behind masked men; faceless, nameless thugs working to further Makarov’s sick machinations.

“We should have found him already,” you mutter.

“Easy, Hound. Can’t be far now.” Simon’s reassurance is about as kind as it gets from him, especially in the field. Your frayed nerves must be getting to him.

It’s reasonable, though, to be so worried. At least to your mind; You should have encountered more resistance. A handful of soldiers are hardly the force you’d expected to reckon with, and the only other place they might be is wherever Price is, doing all manner of terrible things to get information out of him that you know he’ll never give up. Not for anything.

Then you find the basement staircase.

You creep down silent as the grave. When you tuck yourselves into cover, scant though it is, each breath is kept deep and quiet so the guards ahead don’t hear.

Simon signals the plan of attack, but so close to the objective - to Price - it’s all peripheral. Distantly, you’re aware of your body lurching forward at his mark, but over the roar in your ears you can hear no sound and past the tunnel of your vision you see only red.

—

Price chokes and gasps for breath. He takes his mind far, far away from the water pouring over his face. Lists through rifle specs like a soldier, then sheep like a child.

He wants it to stop.

He knows it won’t.

Then something bursts through the door with all the force of a hurricane and it does.

—

“Drop your fucking weapons!”

“Put your bloody hands up, now!”

You hit them so hard and so fast that not one has a chance to reach for his weapon. The few that were holding them already either obey your shouted commands on instinct or are so cowed by disbelief they forget what’s in their hands before you have them dead on the ground.

“Clear,” Simon sounds relieved when the last one drops.

Amidst the carnage, Price sits tied to a metal folding chair. It’s directly beneath a single, swinging lightbulb that emits a frantic and fluttering fluorescence. His hands and feet are bound, too-tight and raw, and even in bad lighting you can see his face is beat to a bloody pulp. It’s all you have time to register before you fly forward to cut the bonds and cradle his face in your hands.

Blue eyes blink through the water and the blood and the confusion that clumps his eyelashes to drink in your features with pain and wonderment.

“Hound,” he rasps. “How—?”

“Violence and timing.” Your grin is a savage punctuation of the statement, too-wide and speckled with his captors’ blood. “Now let’s get you out of here.”

—

Past his initial rescue his mind is lost to a fog of pain, but even through that Price remembers the musicality of your voice cussing out the entire hospital staff for not being ready for him. He tries to laugh but it only comes out a painful wheeze.

—

You hate hospitals almost as much as hospitals hate you. The staff all either shrink away or glare when they see you on your way to monopolize Price’s visiting hours each day. If they just did their jobs maybe you wouldn’t have to fight with them so often, but there’s always something.

His room is too cold. Blankets too few. It’s cramped. Dark. Don’t they know he just came from a place like that? And how would they like to wake up to a dark, miserable little room, huh? And would it kill them to open the blinds and let some fucking sunlight in, little that there is in bleedin’ England? And Jesus, do you have to do everything around here?

You’ve brought flowers, this time.

Yellow daffodils you’re sure the staff will neglect on his bedside table until they’re sad and wilting, but the splash of colour ought to do him some good. You hope it does him some good.

Three light knocks on the door announce your entrance. There’s a nurse checking his vitals whose eyes widen upon realizing who you are. He scurries away as quickly as he can, and you snort a derisive laugh after him.

“You’re a bloody menace,” Price says with enough fondness in his voice you could burst. John, now that it’s just the two of you. “Do you know the staff draw straws when you’re here?”

“You say that like you’re not an awful patient,” you tease. It’s half-hearted at best, and even on the equivalent of horse tranquilizers you know he notices.

You busy your hands arranging his flowers in a clear plastic vase, but your eyes cut over to assess his condition today. His eyes are just as clear and sharp as ever, and the swelling on his face has gone down. The cracked ribs hurt like a bitch, you know from experience, but they don’t stop him from sitting up straighter every time you walk through the door. He had been unconscious for four days after his rescue and still all you can think is how much worse everything could have been. How cracked ribs and a broken nose and a fractured eye socket and every carefully catalogued cut and bruise could have been worse.

How he might not have come home at all.

“You’re staring.”

Your eyes quickly dart back down to the flowers. Flower arranging is at the bottom of your list of skills, but they’re about as bright and cheerful as you could hope, if a little over-cut and crooked in places.

As you turn to set them gently at his bedside he heaves a sigh, heavy between you.

“Now you won’t look at me.” He sounds tired. There’s a twinge of pain at the end of each syllable, but worse than that he sounds like he’s trying so hard to be careful with you. Like you’re the fragile one right now. “What’s wrong, love?”

You scoff past the sudden lump in your throat and finally meet the depths of those blue, blue eyes. “Nothing. I’m being silly.”

“I doubt that very much.” His face creases, warm and a little sad.

“Fine,” you say. You seat yourself on the edge of his bed and grasp his warm, calloused hand in yours. Stroking a reverent thumb along his knuckles gives you a measure of courage. “I love you.”

He sucks a sharp breath in.

“I don’t expect you to say it back - you know I won’t ever ask for anything you can’t give - but fuck me, John, when they took you all I could think about was how much I love you and that I hadn’t told you and that you might die and not know.” You dare a glace up at his face with a sheepish smile made of shards of glass. “So, now you know. Don’t go dying on me about it, please and thanks.”

The glacial blue of his eyes warms to Mediterranean Sea, and the smile he gives you damn near breaks your heart. “Darling,” he says, “for the life of me I’ll never know what I did to deserve it, but you’re the kind of person a man could live for.”

I love you, too.

He raises his hand, still in yours, to his mouth. His unshaven whiskers tickle your skin. The kiss he presses to the inside of your wrist is reverent and warm, full of everything he’s never said and is still scared to say out loud.

I love you, too.

#captain john price x reader #john price x reader #fran writes #cod x reader #cod mwii x reader

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icanbeyourjedi-writes · 1 year

Text

It Was Just A Dream... Chapter Two

Summary: Frankie is all moved in, or is he? A cute game of cat and mouse has an ending you wouldn’t expect, Frankie’s mood swings end with an outcome neither of them expected. Words: 5,000+ Rating: 18+ Adult Themes Warnings/Triggers: Addiction, Falling for Your Brothers Friend, Language, OFC is somewhat described as someone with longer hair, but no race/eye color/body type

A/N: I don’t know much about addiction, just the things that I googled and seen portrayed on TV. This is completely an AU. I had the beginning of this story pop in my head randomly and thought it sounded fun to explore. Sure we all love Frankie was that sweet puppy dog…but what if he had his own inner demons he had to battle with. The ‘coke charge’ was mentioned in TF and I kinda wanted to explore that side of him.

**This is written asa first person, and it's my first time writing in first person, so please be gentle with me. I also include Frankie's POV which will be Bold and Italics

It took two days, four, well three and a half strong men moved all of Frankie’s stuff. My house might be small, but the best part. Despite only having two bedrooms, the bedrooms are huge. The guest room is slightly smaller than my master and there isn’t an attached bathroom but still plenty is space for his stuff. I kept the small desk there, well honestly that was the only thing I had there. Five years of living here and my guest room was still empty. Mostly why I think Benny volunteered my space, I was also someone he knew. All of Frankie’s belongings were still in taped boxes. We didn’t know how long Benny was going to be gone, it made sense to bring more than just a duffle bag of stuff.

It's been two weeks since he had moved in, his clothes still in boxes, extra bedding still in boxes. He’s been wearing the same gray sweatpants and black shirt since he got here. Now don’t get me wrong, I love a man in specifically gray ones as much as the next girl, but he hasn’t changed. I don’t even know if he has showered. Seeing him all mopey is making me mad and slightly frustrated. I know he would much rather be back at what has been his home for years, but he needs help and I want to help. I just have no idea what I am doing. I’m feeling guilty making him move, and I know I shouldn’t.

Thanks to having no social life I had a lot of PTO built up, I’ve been off these two weeks trying to help him feel at home. It’s been mostly awkward living with him when it shouldn’t. Awkward grunts, one word answers, he eats alone despite my best efforts. Yesterday he came out of his room and talked to me, it was about a cricket outside his window that just wouldn’t shut up. It was the first time he seemed to be normal? Is that even the right word, what is normal?

It’s late afternoon, and he had been in his room the entire day. Walking past his room and I see him sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the boxes sitting along the wall picking at his fingernails. He has had mood swings that have him going from happy to sad in seconds. I thought about walking past him again, keep going on with my day. But I couldn’t stand seeing the boxes still stacked. It felt like he was ready to move as soon as Benny stepped foot on American soil again, and I was terrified of seeing him live like he didn’t belong here. I stop and gently tap on the open door, “hey…you want some help with those?”

He doesn’t look up at me, instead he just continues to stare at the box, “there’s just so much, I don’t know where to start” he takes a deep breath hanging his head

I walk into his room, he is still sitting on the bed. I grab the top box labeled ‘shirts’ and then turn back towards him. I tap his foot with mine, motioning with my head he needs to move. He stands up and watches as I drop the box on the bed and start grabbing a few shirts and put them in one of the many empty drawers. I hear him sigh with disapproval and I look at him “What?” I groan in frustration

“They need to be folded neatly, and by color. As well as style, but it’s fine…it’s fine. I’ll just do it later” he rubs the back of his neck

Call it being a perfectionist, I call it someone who was trained that everything always had to have order. Everything needed to have crisp lines, be organized. Having its rightful spot, years of military training would do this to a person and I was all too aware that it wasn’t fine.

I pull the shirts back out of the drawer, hoping he doesn’t see my eye roll and I set them back in the box. I didn’t expect this to be easy, but I also didn’t expect I was going to have to be his mother and not a friend. I didn’t think I was going to have to tell Frankie to eat, to take a shower. All the things I thought he already knew, was he like this in rehab? “Then refold the shirts and put them in the drawer” shit was that too aggressive? “I think I might make you feel more at home if you do” I put a hand on his shoulder gently rubbing it.

I watch as he takes a shirt out, folds it meticulously. The edges of the shirt are perfect, he sets it on the bed, his hand running over the shirt, taking out any wrinkles. Every shirt has an order, by color, type, it is memorizing watching him as he moves. Folding every time with such perfection. I have to shake my head and snap out of it, I grab another box and open it to find it stuffed with boxers. He is completely focused on his shirts as I work to put the boxer briefs in a drawer hoping the fold in half method works for him.

I pull out black pair after black pair. There was an occasional gray mixed in. After seeing him in those gray sweatpants for the past two weeks my mind can’t help but imagine him in these and how great they would make his thighs look, his…’stop. Don’t think about that. He’s now your roommate you can’t do that’ all those thots fall when I pull out a baby blue pair with little cat heads wearing headsets. Different types of helicopters fill the empty space between the cat faces. I can’t but giggle holding them up, Frankie stops what he is doing and looks up, “care to explain these” holding the boxers in the air and shake them, I arch an eyebrow at him smiling

He reaches across and snatches them from my hands “nope…” he paused for a moment fold the boxers in half “you got them” he places them on the bottom of the drawer under the pile of black ones

“I did?” I truly don’t remember. One would think someone would remember getting boxers that looked like that

“Yeah, Christmas a few years ago” he returns his focus to the shirts in the box

”Oh my God, you’re right. I did” I laugh

”You said, that I was impossible to shop for, and you wanted something unique to remember you when I was away”

Frankie is the most impossible person to shop for. He always would say he didn’t need anything, he said to not waste money on a guy like him. He wasn’t worth it. I watch Frankie roll his eyes as I tell him again that he is impossible to shop for. A hint of a smile begins to appear and I think that we might have a breakthrough. I finished the box I was working on, broke it down and leaned it against the wall. Frankie pulls out his last shirt and folds it, setting it on the top of a pile. Grabbing the small stack he turns and starts to put them in the top drawer. I grab the box and start to break it down when I see a film strip inside. I reach in and grab the photos.

I stare at them, a clean shaven, wide-eyed twenty something Francisco Morales. I had a photo from this shoot, but I never saw these two. It was before his first deployment and the guys went and did some ‘glamor shots’ as a gag gift. Frankie’s in a purple shirt and leather jacket. His brown hair falling perfectly into place. The first photo his hands are in his back pockets. Showing off his impressive chest and broad shoulders, his smile that makes one’s heart beat a little faster and an instant panty dropper. The other, I swear, he could have been a model. His arms crossed over his chest. His biceps bursting the seams of his jacket, his lips pursed together in a brooding expression. Holy shit, he’s hot…“What do we have here?”

Frankie turns and looks at me, it takes a moment for him to realize what I’m holding in my hand. “Give those here” he reaches for them and I quickly pull them away

”Nope…” I laugh and hold them up, inspecting the photos a bit more

”Lex” he says, a bit more authoritative, it’s deep and it’s sexy. He takes a step towards me, I take a couple small steps towards his open door. I try to keep a distance between us

I have a small idea, “you want them?” I ask slowly moving backward closer to the door, he starts to close the distance nodding his head yes, “then you’ll just have to come and get them” I smile and turn to run through the door.

He bolts out of the room following me, I forget how fast he is and how incredibly silent he can be. He’s on my heels in an instant and I run a circle around the couch. Heading past him and into the kitchen, stopping at one end of the small island. He’s facing me on the other side “Lex…” he says. I smile, laugh and run past his outstretched arm.

“Gotta be quicker than that Morales” I ran around the house again, waiting for him to turn and find me again. I lose my breath as I’m back in his room, the bed as a barrier between us. I look at the photos and see him strut back into his room. I clearly didn’t think this through completely as I find myself trapped on the one side of the bed. Frankie blocking the only exit. He starts to walk around the bed, he’s standing at the end while I move further up closer to the headboard. I’m waiting for him, I have my escape planned. He fakes a step to the left towards me and I step up onto his bed. The piles of shirts start to fall when I bring my other foot up. He reaches across the bed, “Bad move, Miller” he snarls and wraps a hand around my ankle pulling it out and dropping me to the bed.

I hold the photos above my head, he pulls me closer. Placing his thigh is between my legs and crawling the bed until he’s hovering over my body. We’re both laughing and I struggle to keep the photos out of his reach. His large hand captures both of my wrists and pins them to the bed. I squirm below him, trying to break free. “Stop moving” he grunts, his other hand lands on my hip. Holding me tightly in place, my shirt slightly raised and his thumb slowly rubbing against my bare skin. Our laughter slowly turns into heavy breathing.

His face is so close, I can feel his warm breath. His eyes are so full of life now, I see the small parts of the old Frankie. The Frankie that became a friend, family, a crush. My heart is pounding and I am pretty positive Frankie can hear it, his hand is setting my skin on fire and I have no idea what is happening. But I want to kiss him, I want him to kiss me, I want to feel his lips on mine. “Frankie…” I whisper

“Hmmm” he leans closer to me, his nose brushing along mine

I don’t know what I was going to say, I didn’t imagine us ending up like this. I clearly didn’t think this through and I have no idea what to do. Time seems to move slow, and I don’t know how long we stay like this. His eyes focused on mine, I feel like he is looking into my soul. Does he want me to kiss him? Should I kiss him? His hand still wrapped around my wrists, the other still holding my hip.

“KISS HIM ALREADY” my inner voice yells. I finally make a move, I close the short distance between, my lips just about to touch his when my phone rings in my back pocket. His hand releases my wrists and he sits up on the bed. I close my eyes, wishing I didn’t take so long to make the move. I reach behind me, pulling out my phone. It was work, I smiled and mouth a sorry to him, sliding the answer button and bringing the phone to my ear. “Hello” I stand and walk out of his room

“Why didn’t I kiss her? She was right there…would she even want me to kiss her?” He thinks to himself, running his fingers through his hair

He looks at himself in the mirror. The same sweatpants he’s been wearing for well over a week, he looked like a hot mess. At least the shirt was clean, or he thought his shirt was clean. He sees the unruly hair, the 5 o’clock shadow had turned into a fully grown beard. “Because you're a pathetic loser, look at you. She’d never want you to kiss her” that negative voice inside him says. Frankie shakes his head, hands covering his face. He rubs his eyes and tries to remember Will telling him wasn’t. But the thing is, Will was never a very good liar and the voice becomes louder and louder.

“Fishie…hey Fish” her voice brings him back. He looks up at her “hey, you ok?

“yeah…yeah” he says, but her face tells him she doesn’t believe him.

“uhm, ok. I gotta run to work for a bit. I’m not sure when I’ll be home but there’s money on the table. Order some take out”

He nods, giving her his best smile and watches as she walks away. He hears the door open and close. Standing up he peeks his head out the door, he doesn’t hear her. He just needs to take the edge off. He knows he will feel a lot better when he can’t feel anything again. He knows he doesn’t have much left, but enough to last him at least today. He’ll worry about tomorrow-tomorrow. Thank God he hid the green can well enough that Alex didn’t find it. Just one hit, that’s all he needs.

“Take a shower, you’ll feel better after a shower. You’re better than this” he can hear Will’s voice.

It didn’t.

“Food, get some food. Don’t do this Cat” the voice says

My phone dances on my desk as I finish some paperwork. I had plenty of PTO built up, but the doctor's office had an influx of new patients and I was one of the few who knew how to enter all the data and get them set up. It wasn’t where I pictured myself when I graduated college with a degree in film. But it’s a good paying job, and it kept me close to home.

Fishie 🐟: u like Pad Thai 🍲

Me: Not really, and I don’t think that’s Pad Thai haha

Fishie 🐟: oh ok what u want?

I type back a response, telling him to order what he wants. The money on the table was for him to do what he wanted. I might not like Pad Thai, but that shouldn’t stop him from ordering it. I finish typing a few things and grab my phone. I walked over to some of my coworkers who were getting ready to head out as well. I lean against Laura’s desk. She was chatting with a few of the nurses, I watched my phone as the little bubble with dots popped up, then disappeared, appeared again, and disappeared again. I sigh, my head drops. His mood swings are driving me insane.

Me: I like noodles, with teriyaki sauce if that counts as Pad Thai

“What’s up Buttercup” Laura smiles cheerfully

”Have you ever had to help a friend with an addiction?” I look up, the mouths all open “seriously. A friend, not me”

“What kind of addiction?” Laura asks, she was my go-to at work. Her upbeat attitude always had the answers

“Narcotics…” I reply

Is this friend living with you?” a nurse asks

I tell them how the friend just got out of rehab, I leave out the part that the friend is a he, and the he is Frankie. I tell them how rehab said something about how they shouldn’t be left alone, doctors orders they need to live with someone in case of a relapse. “Sometimes I feel like I see the person I became friends with, then sometimes hhhh-they are a completely different person. Someone I don’t even know and it’s only been two weeks”

“Just keep being there for them, don’t push too hard. But they need to know you are there for him. I mean them, no matter what it is, they can trust you” she puts a hand on top of mine

“You can’t give up on them. No matter how hard they try to push you away, you push back. They’ll have their moments but like Laura said, you just need to be there. Letting them know you won’t give up on them”

“Thanks,” I take a deep breath and stare at my phone, he still hasn’t responded “I just wish I knew what he needed, he doesn’t talk”

“Give it time, he will open up when he’s ready”

'Did she just say he? How does she know' I think

I walk into the house, kicking off my shoes and dropping my purse off on the little side table. I hear grunting from down the hall. ‘Oh please don’t tell me he has a girl here’ I think to myself moving towards his room. “Frankie?”

T-Shirts he had just folded and pants were thrown into the hall. I move towards the open door dodging pants being thrown out as I get close, I look into his room and it looks like a tornado hit. The mattress shoved against the wall, drawers empty and pulled from the dresser, clothes thrown around the room. I see Frankie bent over in his closet he had on a new pair of dark green sweats on, he’s shirtless. Little water droplets still cling to his hair and a towel draped over the back of a chair.

“Where the fuck is it?!” he shouts as I watch him throw more things around.

“Where is what?” I ask, and instantly regret it

He turned quickly looking at me, his eyes filled with rage and nostrils flaring. I’ve never seen this look before, and he slowly starts to walk towards me. There’s an evil glint to his eye and it scares me.

“Where the fuck did you put it Alexandra?” He snarls

“If you told me what you are looking for…” I tried to not raise my voice, trying to keep calm. He needs me to remain calm.

“YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I’M LOOKING FOR! DON’T PLAY STUPID”

The yelling intensifies and I know the neighbors can hear us, stay calm. Don’t make things worse.

What happened to the Frankie from earlier?

“I need you to calm down, Frankie. Please. Just tell me what you're looking for and I can help” I wanna put my hand on his shoulder, ground him. Let him know I’m here, but he’s breathing heavy, his lip curls up in an evil grin.

“I know you have it!” he says in an oddly calm manner, “JUST GIVE IT TO ME!!!” He yells

He takes a step closer, he raises his fist. I flinch as the closed hand comes flying towards me and it connects with the wall inches from my head. “Give it to me now Alex” he growls

“What in the hell is your problem!?” I yell shoving his chest back

“You! Benny! This stupid fucking place. I don’t want to be here!” His eyes begin to water and a tear streams down his cheek, he takes a couple steps back

“Fine, then fucking leave! No one is forcing you to be here Francisco” I try to hold back by own tears “I am sick and tired of seeing you being all mopey and shit. You don’t want to be here, FINE”

Shit…I am pretty sure I just over stepped. I go to open my mouth to apologize and there is a hard knock at the door followed by a “Police”

“You called the Police?” He shouts

“I’ve been standing in front of you the entire time arguing with you. When would I have had time to call the police?” I say, I back up and move towards the front door. The knocks become more aggressive “I’m coming!”

I unlock the door and see three officers standing there. They all have a concerned look on their faces

”Good evening ma’am. We got a call about some yelling and wanted to make sure everything was ok” the taller officer said

”Everything is fine. It’s great. Just swell” my words are dripped with sarcasm

“Do you mind stepping outside to talk to my partner Officer James” he looks over my shoulder and sees Frankie, “hey there sir. Mind coming over here for a moment?”

He is sitting on the porch as she stands by the car. He fucked up, she’s given up on him. He’s given up on himself.

“What’s your name?” The youngest officer asks him

Frankie reads the name printed on his chest. T. Baker. “Frank, my name is Frank and everything is fine Officer Baker”

Baker keeps asking bin questions. What happened, did she hit him. Did he hit her? How long has he been living here? What was their relationship? Frankie becoming more annoyed with each question. What did it matter? He fucked things up and he needed a hit more then ever. He was looking for his coke, she found him on a downward spiral but there was no way he was going to tell him that. Suddenly the questions take a turn, when Officer Baker notices a tattoo on his chest.

“What branch?”

“Excuse me” Frankie responds confused

“Your tattoo?”

“Oh yeah, Army. Special Ops, I was a pilot”

He has a tattoo on the left side of his chest, a helicopter flying. A sun and clouds shaded in the background. The helicopter with incredible detail, one of the ones he first learned how to fly. A few men repelling from the bird. Just below a group of trees

“Thank you for your service sir. Wait here, I have some stuff for you” Baker nods his head and walks to the patrol car

He watches him shuffle down the stairs, he sees Alex and for a moment they lock eyes. His heart nearly stops as he sees the tears in her eyes that she quickly wipes away. He caused this pain and for what, a stupid little hit that was nearly enough to take away the pain. He ruined everything. The afternoon was so great, and now she wants him out. Officer Baker was walking back with a stack of papers in his hand.

“For the hundredth time, he didn’t hurt me. He would never do that” I groaned. I have said the same thing over and over. Are they trying to get a different answer? Despite Frankie punching a hole in the wall, he would never lay a hand on me.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes taking in a deep breath. When I open my eyes, I see Frankie. His eyes locked onto mine. The hurt, the pain, he looks lost. The officer hands him a stack of papers. His hands shaking as he takes them, he turns his head down and he walks into the house.

“Ms. Miller, if you need anything else please give us a call” the officer sees his small notebook and sticks it in his chest pocket. “Have a good night” he walks past me and heads to his car.

I head to the steps of my front porch watching the officer who had spoken to Frankie walk down. He stops me before I walk past him, “he’ll be ok. Just give it time. I’ve been there. He’s got a good girlfriend, just be patient with him”

I stop in my tracks, my jaw drops. What the hell did Frankie tell him? “Wait…what?” I ask. But it was too late, the officer already getting back into his car. I shake my head and walk into the house locking the door behind me.

It’s getting late and I’m hungry. I walk past the hallway that leads to the bedrooms and notice Frankie bent over picking up the clothes that had been thrown into the hallway. I should say something, I should apologize to him. I get distracted, watching the muscles in his back strain with every movement. ‘Focus Alex’. What is wrong with me, this man just put me through a roller coaster of emotions. I can’t get distracted by something as stupid as watching him work.

I shake my head and walk towards the kitchen. I hope to find some leftover takeout since I know the fridge is empty. Instead I find the $20 left on the table in the same exact place I left it. I can’t leave, that would require me letting Frankie know, and it might be petty but I really don’t want to talk to him right now, maybe even for the rest of the night. I open the freezer and pray that the ice cream is still there. I open the door and find the pint of cookie dough ice cream still sitting there. I do a little happy dance and grab a spoon. I make my way to the living room and flop down on the sofa, turning on the TV and pop the top off digging in.

“I fucked up…” he says to himself folding the shirts, putting them back in the dresser. He pushes the mattress back onto the frame and sits on the edge of his bed. He looks up and sees the hole he had punched into the wall. An image of Alex’s face floods his memory. He fucked up so bad that she didn’t even say two words to him when she came back into the house. He left the pamphlets on the coffee table, she’s going to find them. He knows it.

The papers were for local rehabs where VA’s held sobriety classes. They had everything from AA to NA to Gambling. He didn’t want to go to rehab again, he felt more alone then he ever had there. That’s where he met George, well Steve really. He made it though those 30 days thanks to him smuggling in just enough coke to help them both function like normal adults. Nicole, well she helped in other ways. One keeping his secret and she helped him take his mind off things when he was able to bury himself in her. She wasn’t who he wanted, but she was there. She was a quick fuck. It didn’t mean anything, and he felt bad when he told her it wasn’t going to last when he left. His mind racing with all these thoughts, he’ll finish cleaning later. He’ll patch the hole tomorrow. Right now he has something bigger to take care of. He needs to repair this whatever-ship he had with Alex. He needs her.

He plops on the couch next to her, she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even look at him, she focused on the ice cream in her hand and the moving pictures on the TV

”Ice cream for dinner?” He asks ‘great icebreaker Morales, you idiot’ his inner demon mocks him

“Yeah, the perk of being an adult. No one can tell me what to eat Franklin” she stuffs another spoon into her mouth, “that and someone didn’t buy dinner like I told them too”

‘She called me Franklin…maybe she’s not that mad’ he reads her face, it’s softened…a hint of a smile. Then she said that last part, and it changes to instant regret. She turns to look at him “shit. I’m so sorry that was-“

“No…no I deserved that” he interrupts her, “can I have a bite?”

She eyes him, something between a grin and a smirk on her face. She sticks the spoon into the ice cream and scoops out a tiny pile, moving the spoon to his open mouth.

“I’m sorry Lex he says mouth full of ice cream

He looks at the ground, he’s picking at his nails. I can see the inner struggle he’s having and it breaks my heart, I have no idea how to help. I watch as his mind tries to find the words he wants to say. I go to open my mouth, but he stops me “I am really sorry” he says again

“What happened today?” I ask him setting the ice cream on the table and turning to face him

“I was looking for…fuck…I was looking for some coke. I thought I had some left. I am so sorry. I didn’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. Rehab didn’t do shit” he’s talking fast and I’m trying to keep up.

He tells me about George, how they were doing just enough to get by. Nicole helped them not get caught. He doesn’t know how George was able to get the contraband in, but he did. They exchanged information, and he was helping Frankie. He wasn’t doing as much as he used to, which I guess is good, he thought he had some left. A small tin can was what he was looking for, he was terrified that I found it when we were unpacking.

“How many days has it been?” I ask

“I don’t know, maybe five days?” He doesn’t sound very positive

“Maybe five days? How many days Frankie?”

“Three…it’s been three days and I am going crazy” he says ‘then we almost kissed and I panicked and I was on edge and just needed a hit’ he thinks to himself

“ok” she says and stands up.

“Wait where are you going?” He asks, panic setting in

He’s worried that she is going to get his bag, she’s gonna ask him to leave. This is too much, this isn’t what she signed up for. She’s given up on him. His head falls back, he wants this couch to eat him alive. He wanted to disappear before and that feeling is ten times worse, now that she knows his secret.

She comes back a large poster in her hand, the other has a sharpie and stickers. She sits it on the table and sits on the floor next to Frankie. He watches as she makes little boxes, writing dates, making a calendar. Her tongue peeks out of her tongue as she concentrates on the task at hand. He leans forwards, and continues to watch over her shoulder. She looks up at him, “ok did you use today?”

He shakes his head no “I couldn’t find it”

“right..” she puts a little star sticker on today's date “and you said three days since the last time”

He nods. She puts a sticker on the past three days

“What are you doing?” He asks

That was a great question. What was I doing? This idea sounded crazy in my head, even more crazy as I explained to Frankie. It would be like a reward chart. Something like when you were a kid and had chores, you’d get a sticker for each thing completed. The more stickers you get a reward. The more I say this, and look at his face of confusion the more dumb this idea sounded. He isn’t a kid, I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.

“This is stupid, just forget it.” I sigh pushing the stuff away from me

His large hands stop the poster from moving, he brings it closer.

“What is my reward?” He asks curiously

“Uhm…what do you want?”

“Pancakes…” he says

”Pancakes? Really?” and he nods “ok how about we start with a week, you make it a week, I’ll make you pancakes”

“With sprinkles?” His boyish smile is back, his eyes wide and I have a little hope that this stupid, wacky, insane idea might work

I smile and nod at him. I move to sit next to him on the couch, “I’ll have to go buy some. But sure, you can have sprinkles”

“Hey Lexi, one more thing?” He asks “Can we get some helicopter stickers?”

I smile and cup his cheek, my thumb gently brushing the trimmed beard, “yes Franklin. We can get some helicopter stickers”

ANN: A huge shout out to @musings-of-a-rose for helping me with this and giving me confidence to post this in first person. I am still terrified of it. @theewokingdead and @heythere-mel for listening to my random ass ideas at all hours. I love each and every one of you.

Looking for more of my fics check out my masterlist. And check out other writers at @littlemisspascal and their library for all Pedro Characters

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