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persevereforahappyending · 3 months ago

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A Legacies Secret |14|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Stabbing, Attempted Murder, Murder, Death, Blood, Gun shots

Word Count: 3.2k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You sat emotionless on the hospital bed as the doctor finished stitching up your shoulder. They had done the wound on your side first, the doctor said you got lucky, the knife had just barely missed your ribs. Luckily it only hurt when you breathed or moved. You let out a hiss as the doctor did his last stitch. He smiled at you and told you when to come back to get the stitches out, not that you really heard him, you couldn’t stop replaying what happened in your head, you couldn’t stop seeing Dewey’s face.

You looked down when you felt a squeeze on your hand, then lifted your gaze to see Tara watching you with a worried expression. You wanted to offer her a smile, something to comfort her, to show you were okay, but you couldn’t even manage that. She stood up as best as she could with her crutches and carefully wrapped her arm around you. You just let your head drop to her shoulder, you didn’t even have it in you to break down. The only good thing to come from the attack was that Ghostface didn’t touch Tara, he didn’t get her again, you kept him away long enough, that was the one thing you actually did right. You couldn’t protect Dewey, you couldn’t run to his aid, but you saved Tara, you were just trying to hold onto that, you weren’t a complete failure at least.

Tara leaned back, caressing your face as she stared into your eyes. “What’s going through your head?” she asked softly.

The death of the father you just learned about. That’s all that was going through your mind. The death of the man who gave you chance after chance, the guy who finally smacked sense into you and made you get your shit together.

“Can we just get the fuck out of here?” You asked.

Tara nodded and sat back down in her wheelchair, laying her crutches across her lap. You got behind the wheelchair and began to push her out the door despite her protests that you could rip open your stitches already. When the two of you got to the waiting room you saw Sam talking to Gale and some other woman. When Gale’s eyes landed on you, she pushed past Sam to make her way towards you and Tara.

“Are you okay?” Gale asked as soon as she was close enough. “I’m so sorry, I-”

“Just stop,” you said harshly. You didn’t miss the way Gale flinched, you just didn’t care, just like you didn’t care that her eyes were red, she probably just stopped crying not too long ago. “Don’t pretend to care.”

“I do care,” she said softly.

“Well, I don’t, so if you don’t mind, we’re getting the fuck out of here.”

“What?” The woman who had been standing with Gale and Sam asked. “You can’t just leave. Look, you’ve been through a lot recently,” she flicked a glance at Gale. “I can’t imagine what you must be feeling, but I do know what it’s like to be targeted by this asshole.” That’s when it clicked for you, this wasn’t some random woman, it was Sidney Prescott. “We could really use your help taking him down.”

“Fuck that,” you shook your head. “Sorry, but no. This,” you gestured around the room. “Isn’t about me. So, I’m taking Tara and we’re getting the hell out of here.”

“Okay,” Sidney nodded. “Be careful.”

“Thank you.” You looked at Sam who seemed conflicted. “You’re welcome to join us,” you directed at her. “Your Tara’s sister after all.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Sam said instantly. She texted Richie to pull the car up.

You were sure Sam had the same thought as you, now that Tara got attacked twice there was no way she’d stay in town. Sam might not have been your favorite person, but you weren’t about to keep Tara from her sister, especially if Sam was actually willing to stick around this time.

“Alright let’s get the fuck out of this town,” Richie said as he pulled up. You rolled your eyes as he quickly started apologizing to Gale and Sidney.

You glared at Richie when he tried to take over helping Tara, but he quickly let go of the wheelchair and backed up. “I’ll get the bags?” He said it more like a question as he took Tara’s crutches and backpack to sit in the back seat.

Tara gave you a disapproving look, but you caught the small smile on her face. She might not have been happy with you straining yourself already, but she appreciated it. As gently as you could you wrapped one arm around her and helped her slide into the back seat. You spared Gale and Sidney one last glance as they finished talking to Sam.

You were pressed against the door on the right side in the backseat to give Tara as much room as she needed to stretch out her injured leg. As much as you would have loved to be on the other side of her, with her leaning on you, that was her injured side.

“What’s wrong?” You asked when you noticed Tara searching her backpack in a panic.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, glancing back from the passenger seat.

“I can’t find my inhaler,” Tara said. Her breathing was already getting shallow at simply the idea of not having her inhaler.

“Can we stop somewhere?” You couldn’t blame Sam, the last thing you wanted to do was turn around. You wanted to get out of town as quick as possible and stop somewhere outside of town if you could.

“I need a prescription,” Tara shook her head.

“There’s a spare at my place,” you offered. You always kept a spare inhaler at your place, you never wanted anything to happen when Tara was staying the night or if she was at your apartment alone while she waited for you to get off work or come back with dinner.

“That’s on the opposite side of town. Wait,” her eyes snapped up. “Amber, I have another spare at Ambers.” You wanted to roll your eyes but even you had to admit Amber's place was more convenient, it was actually on the way out of town.

“No, no way,” Richie said, shaking his head. As much as you didn’t want to stop you knew how much Tara needed her inhaler.

“It’s on the way.”

Richie started to shake his head until his eyes landed on Sam. “Please?” She pleaded. “She needs it.”

“Fuck it, where does Amber live?”

A few minutes after Tara gave Richie the address, he was pulling up outside Amber’s house. You helped Tara out of the car and handed her her crutches, making sure to stand close by as you made your way to the front door, which was wide open. Amber was having a party, typical, of course she’d have a party when a psycho was on the loose.

Tara entered the house instantly after Richie and Sam, you couldn’t help but hesitate at the door. You knew where Amber lived because you had picked up and dropped Tara off multiple times, but you had never been in her house. With Ghostface looming in the darkness you couldn’t help but be on edge as you slowly stepped into the house.

You lingered in the background watching as Tara talked to Amber. You furrowed your brow when Amber started yelling that the party was over, Amber wasn’t usually the type to end a party early, especially one she was throwing. You then watched as Tara followed Amber, as everyone else in the house slowly filed their way out the front door.

You waited in the entryway with Sam, having no desire to wander around Amber’s house. Richie wandered off towards the kitchen, saying he was going to find something to drink. You just leaned back against the door and waited for Tara to come back while watching Sam pace back and forth.

You pulled out your phone when you felt it start to vibrate, you furrowed your brow for a second when you saw it was Gale calling you. You ignored the initial confusion and tapped to decline the call with an eyeroll. Almost as soon as you hung up on Gale Sam pulled out her phone.

“Who is it?” you asked.

“Unknown,” she said, holding up her phone for you to see.

“If it’s Gale hang up.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at your request but swiped to answer the call. “How do you know where I am?” Sam asked whoever was on the phone making you furrow your brow.

“Who is it?” you whispered.

Sam’s eyes widened at whatever the person on the phone was saying. Then she took off, yelling up the stairs for Tara. “What’s going on?” you grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around.

“We’re in Stu Macher’s house,” Sam said. Your eyes went wide as soon as she said the name. Your eyes started darting around the house, you knew Tara lost her inhaler but there was no way all of you ended up at Stu Macher’s old house was a coincidence.

You stuck closely to Sam as she went around the house searching for Richie until the both of you ended up in the living room. “Holy shit,” you said when you saw Mindy bleeding out on the ground.

Sam instantly ran to Mindy’s side, pressing her hands against the wound. “Do something!” she yelled.

You nodded, your fingers stumbling as you grabbed your phone to call for help. You had just brought the phone to your ear when Tara and Amber came into the room. “What did you do?” Amber yelled, running over to Sam and Mindy, making Sam back away from Mindy.

“We found her like that,” Sam defended.

“Oh my god!” Richie said as he came into the room. You narrowed your eyes; you and Sam had gone through the entire bottom floor of the house and didn’t see him anywhere.

“Where were you?” you asked.

“The basement.”

“Alone?” Sam asked.

“Tara and I were together, but all of you are suspects!” Amber said, cutting off whatever Richie was going to say to defend himself.

“I was with Sam,” you said. “You’re the only one unaccounted for,” you looked at Richie.

“You and Sam together isn’t really a solid alibi,” Amber snapped. “Maybe you’re both the killer.”

Everyone continued arguing back and forth until Liv came into the room, hands raised and covered in blood as tears streamed down her face, smudging her mascara. “Liv,” you said slowly. “Why are you covered in blood?”

“I-I-” Liv sobbed. “I-I found Chad.” You could swear everyone held in their breath as you waited for what Liv was going to say next. “He-he was stabbed.”

“You’re the killer,” Richie said.

“I’m not the killer.”

“You’re the killer,” Amber repeated what Richie said.

“Amber, I’m not the fucking killer!” Liv snapped, tears still falling from her eyes.

“I know,” Amber said emotionlessly.

The next thing you knew Amber pulled out a gun and fired a bullet right between Liv’s eyes. She instantly pointed the gun at Sam, but Tara dropped one of her crutches and grabbed Amber’s hand, making the bullet go into the wall. While Amber was occupied Richie grabbed Sam’s hand and dragged her out of the room.

You ran towards Amber and Tara but as soon as you pulled Amber off Tara, she stabbed you in the gut, giving you a twisted smile. You heard Tara scream your name as you collapsed to the floor. You pushed yourself up and began to scoot back away from Amber, Tara was clinging onto her arm, making her unable to aim the gun still in her hand.

Amber whipped her hand back, knocking Tara into the wall. Amber raised her gun at you but as quickly as you could you crawled to the side of the couch, ducking as a few bullets entered the couch just above your heard. You pressed your hand to your new stab wound as you listened for more shots.

You weren’t sure how long you waited, it felt like seconds, but you were sure it had been longer than that when you realized you didn’t hear gunshots anymore, you didn’t hear anything. You risked peeking your head out to see Amber was gone, as well as Tara. You gripped the back of the couch, trying to use it to help pull yourself to your feet. As soon as you were standing someone appeared in the doorway, aiming a gun right at your head. You raised one blood hand, keeping the other on the wound as you stared down the barrel of a gun held by Sidney Prescott.

“It’s Amber,” you said, your eyes unable to leave the gun still pointed at you.

“I know,” Sidney said. “Stay here.” She gave you one last suspicious look before slowly making her way up the stairs.

You don’t know how long you stood there, leaning against the couch, you closed your eyes, meaning to just focus on your breathing but when you opened them again Amber was standing in front of you. You didn’t have time to process what was happening before Amber held her knife to your throat and shoved you in the direction of the kitchen.

When you stumbled into the kitchen you saw Gale, nursing a wound of her own, and Sidney already there. A couple seconds later Richie came in, shoving Sam to the ground. You grabbed Sam’s arm, quickly helping her to her feet and pulling her back towards the counter.

Richie and Amber looked at each other smiling, before pulling each other into a kiss. Richie kept his gun pointed at Sam while Amber dropped her knife to her side, the second Sidney tried to get around them though Amber broke the kiss and stabbed Sidney in the side.

You should have seen all this coming, you never liked Amber and Richie was suspicious from the moment you met him. You never imagined they would be in it together though, and definitely never could have imagined them dating. You always assumed Amber had a thing for Tara and was jealous of you.

“Why are you doing this?” Sidney asked.

“Because the latest sequel to Stab sucked!” Richie snapped.

You lifted your eyes to look at him, you were hoping you were bleeding out and a consequence was hard of hearing, there was no way these two assholes killed a bunch of people all because they were pissed about a movie.

“Richie and I met online,” Amber said, smiling up at him. “We quickly realized we shared similar ideas.”

“Didn’t take us long to come up with our own movie,” Richie said. “Wasn’t hard to find you in Modesto,” he shrugged, looking at Sam. “But you,” he pointed his knife at you. “You were a surprise.”

“But you can find out anything if you dig deep enough,” Amber said. “It’s a small town, secrets aren’t exactly secret,” she chuckled. “One whisper of someone saying Gale Weathers was in town,” she looked at Gale. “And didn’t take much after that. Going back,” she nodded to herself. “Your old interviews, your old episodes, it was clear something was off.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Sam asked. “Kill everyone? Make me your little hero?”

Richie burst out laughing at Sam’s suggestion. “Oh, you’re serious?” he said, clearing his throat. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re the villain, he gave her a devilish smile.

“Think about it!” Amber screamed; her eyes wide with excitement like you had never seen before. “What better movie is there? The secret daughter of the original mastermind,” she pointed her knife at Sam.

“And the secret daughter of two of the original survivors,” Richie continued, his smile matching Amber’s.

“Lied to her entire life,” Richie said, taunting Sam. “Until she discovered the truth,” he gestured with his hand at Sam, a glimmer in his eye. “And decided to exact her revenge.”

“Thrown away like trash, abandoned, never to be thought of again,” Amber continued, looking you directly in the eye. “Then learns the truth,” she smiled, pointing her knife at you. “And decides to get revenge.”

“It’s a revenge story!” Amber squealed. She actually did a little jump, as if she were giddy about the idea of you and Sam teaming up to kill a bunch of people. “Agh! It’s so good!”

“You’re insane,” Gale said.

“No!” Amber whipped around, raising her knife as if she were going to stab Gale again. “We’re fans! We just want to save the movie that inspired us.”

“You’re crazy,” Gale shook her head.

“And you’re a bad mother.” The next thing you knew a knife was shoved in your side. You lifted your head, opening your mouth only to cough up blood. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Amber whispered, twisting the knife that was still in you. “After we rid ourselves of you and Sam,” she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Tara will be all mine.”

Despite your current situation you laughed, you couldn’t help it, Amber said the funniest thing in the world after all. “You really are crazy,” you rasped out, coughing up a bit more blood in the process. “Tara will never love you.” You made sure to stare Amber directly in the eye as the words left your mouth, the consequences be damned.

Amber let out what you could only describe as a snarl before pulling the knife out only to shove it back in again, and again, and again. You started gurgling on the blood in your mouth, you weren’t sure when you lost count of how many times Amber stabbed you. When she finally stepped away you just collapsed to the floor.

You were only partially aware of the others trying to come to your aid, only to be met with a knife or a gun to their head. You tried to pull yourself to your feet but as soon as you got up on wobbly legs a sharp pain ripped through your knee, sending your straight back to the floor. Your hand went to your knee, instantly being met with the wet stickiness of blood. You rolled over, holding your knee, your eyes pinched shut, you didn’t even have it in you to scream.

When you opened your eyes, you were instantly met with a gun in your face. Amber let out a scoff and walked away. You weren’t sure what happened after that, you decided maybe just bleeding out on the floor was the best-case scenario. You saw blurry figures going back and forth, you were in and out of consciousness, every time you blinked it took you longer to open your eyes again, you could barely hear the muffled sounds of what you assumed was the others fighting.

Everything was silent, you could barely keep your eyes open, you just wanted to close them and rest. You felt a weight hit your chest, forcing you to open your eyes again. You could just barely make out the blurry image of Tara, it almost looked like she was crying, you weren’t sure why, she was safe, she was alive, there was nothing to be sad about. You saw her lips moving but couldn’t hear the words she was saying. Tara’s face was the last thing you saw before everything finally went black.

Taglist: @r-3-becca

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #scream #scream v #scream 5 #a legacies secret

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mvrkieboo · 7 days ago

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Old Bloodhounds

P51 | jeong y/n

"Thank you for this, Park. I appreciate it." Taeyong spoke tiredly into the phone, and he could hear Chanyeol laugh on the other line.

"Kid, you've worked with me for nearly a year now, ease up a bit and just call me Chanyeol. Here, the name at the top of the list, Kim Soyeon, owns a café in Sinchon. Says here it's supposed to close in another hour. Hey, I'll give you the rest of the info through text—just get going already, Yongie." Chanyeol's voice took a sober turn, understanding the current mood. It was also Chanyeol who ended the call right after.

Kyungsoo had texted him you were currently undergoing emergency surgery, and you were probably getting out of it the next morning considering the stab wound punctured your lung and broke through your ribs. The paramedic also found that there was a nasty gash at the back of your head, a possible concussion...or worse. Taeyong cringed when he read the details of your injuries, but he shook his head.

You were going to make it out alive, he was sure of it. From what he had gathered from Kyungsoo about who you were as a person, you were strong, and you'd been good in keeping your promise to them to hold on—so Taeyong had a lot of trust in you that you'd keep that promise 'til the end.

Nobody on the list was picking up his calls, it's why he asked for Chanyeol's assistance in gathering more info regarding the people on your list. When Chanyeol's text came through, Taeyong focused on the address of Kim Soyeon's café.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

When Taeyong parked the car, that's when he noticed the bloodstains you had left on his jacket and shirt. His jacket was already black, so it didn't really show, but his button-up shirt under the jacket was light blue—now partly red, soaked in your blood. He took out his wet tissue packet and cleaned his jacket before zipping it all the way up. Glancing at his cleaned up watch, it was currently 8:21 p.m. He got out of the car with a heavy feeling lingering in his chest.

As he got to the café's front entrance, your note in his hands, he noticed that the sign on the front entrance said 'CLOSED' and another note below said 'PRIVATE EVENT'. Since the café had large window panes all over, he could see there was a private celebration inside, and there were mostly young adult attendees. He knocked on the glass door, and a kind looking middle aged woman opened the door, not exiting fully.

"Good evening. I'm sorry, but the café is closed to the public for now—"

Taeyong shook his head awkwardly and took out his badge, showing it to her.

"My name is Lee Taeyong, and I'm a detective from Gangnam's Police Force. Ma'am, do you happen to be Kim Soyeon?" This wouldn't be the first time he had to do a house visit to inform a victim's family, but it never got easier.

And it never will.

Soyeon paused, before exiting the café completely and closed the door behind her. Nobody noticed the exchange happening, too caught up in their own conversations.

At first, Soyeon thought he was here to inform about her ex-husband—maybe found dead from alcohol poisoning somewhere in Gangnam, or he was arrested and needed someone to bail him out. So that was the first thing she asked.

"Is this about my ex-husband?" Soyeon pursed her lips a little, hugging herself in the cold autumn night.

"No, ma'am, it's regarding...it's Jeong Y/N. I understand that— based on this note she gave me—you're close with her?" Taeyong felt like he was speaking with a mouth filled with molasses. His tongue felt heavy, and even his lips too.

He showed the note to Kim Soyeon, suddenly finding himself tongue-tied. When she read the contents of the note, her hands began to shake as her grip on the note tightened, crumpling the paper.

"...she's like a daughter to me. Did something happen to her?" She spoke in a near whispery tone, and Taeyong almost didn't hear her.

When Soyeon clarified her relationship with you, calling you a daughter figure to her, Taeyong's heart broke into two as he felt shame creeping up his body. He moved to kneel before her, making her shriek, because she knew that a detective wouldn't kneel to a random civilian unless something really bad actually happened to you.

Everyone else in the café froze in silence when they heard her shriek and turned to the glass doors of the front entrance, seeing an unknown man kneeling in front of Soyeon. Geonwoo marched up to the front entrance, opening the glass doors immediately, worried for his mother. Woojin was just right behind him.

"Mom, what's going—"

She bent down, hands on Taeyong's shoulders as she pulled on his jacket, and as his jacket rode up, his bloodstained shirt under peaked through, gaining Woojin's attention at just how soaked in blood it was. The note dropped on the pavement near Taeyong's knees.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO HER? WHERE'S Y/N! TELL ME!" Soyeon yelled loudly, pulling the attention of the people inside and outside of the café.

Yuno and his father, upon hearing your name, quickly went to the front entrance too, wondering why Soyeon was shrieking out your name like a mad woman.

Geonwoo held his mother, confused with what she was talking about. Yuno noticed there was a written note near Taeyong's knees and bent down to pick up, freezing when he recognized the writing.

"Jeong Y/N was found beaten and stabbed multiple times near downtown Seoul—and is currently receiving emergency surgery at TaeHo Memorial Hospital. I'll explain everything once we get to the hospital, ma'am. My partner is there waiting for Y/N to get out of surgery."

Mark who was huddled up near the entrance with the rest of the attendees—wedged between Haechan and Yuta—dropped his drink to the floor, glass shattering on the tiles.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Yangyang truly didn't give a fuck. His name was also on the list, along with Xiaojun's and Aeri's, so they should be allowed to go to the hospital too. Aeri was crying in the passenger seat with Xiaojun sitting still in the back, looking like he was in shock. Yangyang pressed on the gas pedal when Geonwoo's Ford truck in front of him was beginning to get farther away from his McLaren.

Right in front of Geonwoo's truck was the detective's car, revolving light shining red and alarm ringing out loud in the night. Mark rode with Geonwoo and Woojin, while Soyeon, Yuno and your dad rode with the detective.

"God, please let Y/N remain among the living. Please, please, please... don't take her away from those who love her so soon..." Yangyang could hear Aeri's incessant prayers, making him slam his hand on the wheel at how heartbreaking it was to hear her pray through choked sobs.

Aeri was never that religious, and him and Xiao didn't even believe in anything at all—but he hoped that Aeri's prayers were heard and granted. In fact, even his heart was praying alongside Aeri.

He really thought they had moved past you now, he really did. At least, he thought he himself did. He remembered feeling nothing but disdain when he saw you at the post mortem meeting a week ago, and he thought that was him forgetting all about you.

But as he prayed in his heart, to a higher power he didn't even personally believe in, he realised he will always care for you no matter what, whether he wanted to or not.

He floored the pedal.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Geonwoo, Woojin and Mark ran to the waiting area, with your friends right behind them too. They came to see your father kneeling in front of a man standing beside Detective Lee, Mr. Jeong's hands pulling on the man's shirt—and they assumed that man was Taeyong's partner, Detective Do Kyungsoo. Geonwoo and Woojin were familiar with his name, albeit a little sparsely, because you had mentioned Detective Do before.

Yuno was bent behind your father, supporting the older man even when he himself was starting to crack, tears streaming down his face.

"How could someone as small as my daughter bleed this much!" Your father wailed, and it made Geonwoo and Woojin stop in their tracks as they fully took in Detective Do.

Kyungsoo had a haunted look across his face as he held your father's hands, and the shirt your father was gripping on was soaked in red. Even the cuffs of his corduroy jacket were bloodstained. Even his hands had dried blood on them. He was so soaked in your blood, they understood exactly what your father was feeling right now.

Pure unadulterated fear.

"Mom..." Geonwoo uttered out, and his mom broke down hearing her son's voice, urging him to go and be with her.

As soon she felt his arms around her, she let out a sob, "She was stabbed twice, it broke through her ribs and punctured her lung. They suspect a concussion too, based on the gash she had at the back of her head."

Yuno began to pull your father up, face suddenly blank of any emotions. It was as if hell froze over for him.

"You never told us who did this to her." Yuno spoke almost emotionlessly—but Mark, who had known him the longest besides your father, could tell he was furious.

Kyungsoo stared at his hands and shirt, feeling like he could never wash your blood off of him. He heard Yuno's question loud and clear, but he was just thinking on where he should start.

Did your fate get sealed the moment Junyoung stepped into the police station and filed a report on how Yoonsu was exploiting you? When Junyoung suddenly disappeared right after he graduated? When Yoonsu managed to slip away as they busted down the doors of his establishment?

Or should he start with the fact that this all happened because him and his old partner was reckless enough to involve a teenage girl in their investigation against ruthless loanshark like Yoonsu?

"Hyung..." Taeyong spoke softly.

Kyungsoo took out your locket from his jacket's front pocket. He felt his heart drop when he noticed you were wearing this locket as you lied on the stretcher inside the ambulance. He recognized the locket—you had worn it before when you were still Yoonsu's prized girlfriend. This was the bugged locket Yoonsu made you wear.

That fucker was sick in the head.

Mark—of all people, Mark—walked up to Kyungsoo and gripped on the collar of his jacket, shaking the detective, frustrated with his lack of words. Everyone else balked at the sight while Woojin moved quickly to try and hold the younger man back, holding on to his shoulder, but Mark shook Woojin's hand off of him.

"Stop staying quiet, you bastard—tell us who did this to her!" Mark raised his voice.

"Mark!" Woojin yelled, and Taeyong was already trying to wedge himself between them too.

"It was Cha Yoonsu. Beat her up good, then he stabbed her twice before he stabbed himself in the throat...can't arrest a dead guy." Kyungsoo uttered out, voice as monotoned as Yuno's before.

Geonwoo and Woojin froze, while the rest of your friends and family were wondering just who the fuck was Cha Yoonsu? Geonwoo let go of his mother, beyond perplexed with Kyungsoo's answer. Didn't you tell them that Yoonsu was already dead more than a week ago?

"Cha Yoonsu? Didn't you make her come down to Gangnam mortuary a week ago to ID his corpse?" Woojin asked what Geonwoo was thinking, and the detective let out a scoff.

"Gosh, back then he even had me fooled. Held Y/N hostage with that blackmail hanging over her head and made her his puppet." Kyungsoo sighed, messing with his hair as he was reminded of how foolish he had been, thinking that the corpse on the mortuary slab was actually Yoonsu.

"What the fuck are you talking about? Who the fuck is Cha Yoonsu? And what do you mean by blackmail!" Yangyang broke out in anger, frustrated that he wasn't understanding a single thing coming out of anyone's mouth at the moment.

"And where's Junyoung? She had plans with him for tonight." Aeri spoke through hiccups, and Xiaojun wrapped an arm around her shoulders to calm her down once the shock wore off.

Kyungsoo and Taeyong felt like the fog was lifted; these people knew jackshit. No wonder they were fooled by Yoonsu's poor rendition of Junyoung—no wonder you left Taeyong that note. This was what you meant by not wanting to keep them in the dark anymore. They had very little idea on what you actually went through back then.

In fact, it was as if they had very little idea on who Jeong Y/N really was before they met her.

"I need all of you to sit first as I explain to you how everything led up to this. Please, take a seat everyone. I'm now well aware just how little you know about Y/N's past." Kyungsoo sighed.

"We know she was forced to work for a loanshark to clear her late stepfather's debt after our mother abandoned her." Yuno spoke out, and Kyungsoo tilted his head at him.

"Then how come some of you don't know who's Cha Yoonsu?" Taeyong asked sincerely.

"Who is Cha Yoonsu?" Yangyang asked again, still clearly frustrated.

Kyungsoo and Taeyong eyed Geonwoo and Woojin, because out of all of them, the ex MMA athletes were the ones that seemed to be aware of who exactly was Cha Yoonsu.

"Cha Yoonsu was the loanshark she was forced to work for. He had her working as a stripper at his illegal establishment, and also coerced her into a romantic relationship with him while she worked under him. This locket was gifted to her with the promise that he would marry her once her debt was settled." Kyungsoo explained thoroughly who Cha Yoonsu was, and what kind of man he had been, holding up the locket they had seen you wear ever since you introduced them to Junyoung.

Geonwoo and Woojin looked at each other—they didn't know that he had made you his girlfriend at one point while you worked for him. This was something you didn't tell them about your past—something you hid from them.

Everyone felt sick to their stomach, going pale at the realization this all happened when you were still a teenager.

Your father felt his knees going weak and practically dropped himself on the chair, while your brother felt bile coming up his throat imagining his teenager younger sister dating an adult man who obviously wanted to take advantage of you.

"What a disgusting bastard." Mark spoke out quietly, but you could still hear the fury in his voice.

"Lee Junyoung was Y/N's senior at Cheongdaebi High in Gangnam, it's where they met. They eventually became close friends. Junyoung was an illegitimate child of the Lee Media Conglomerate, so he had quite a reputation in Gangnam already. He also had a cousin on his stepmother's side who worked in Gangnam's Police Force Organized Crime Unit—that was my old partner, Kim Junmyeon.

When Junyoung found out Y/N was in an abusive relationship, and her boyfriend also turned out to be the loanshark who was exploiting her, he filed a police report to his cousin. We were already investigating Cha Yoonsu and building a case against him—so when we found out Junyoung's little friend was also Yoonsu's girlfriend, we roped her in. Made her our mole in Yoonsu's workforce." Geonwoo and Woojin bristled, finding it so reckless of them for putting you in a dangerous spot.

It was why Yoonsu was so hellbent in getting his revenge on you. Ignoring the way Geonwoo and Woojin were glaring at him, Kyungsoo continued.

"Yoonsu already kept an eye out on Junyoung because he was close to Y/N, but he was livid when he found out the kid filed a police report against him. Right after Junyoung graduated, he disappeared. Many thought he ran away from his family, but Y/N was convinced Yoonsu did something to him, so she filed a missing person's report on Junyoung.

Once we gathered sufficient evidence through Y/N's help, we busted down the doors of his establishment only for him to slip away after he could confirm it was Y/N that had been our informant—it was the botched operation of the decade." The older detective let out a bitter smile, remembering how harshly his captain had slapped him for letting Yoonsu slip away, and for letting you flee Gangnam.

"So the Junyoung Y/N introduced to us..." Xiaojun asked tentatively, horror written all over his face.

"It had been Cha Yoonsu who had cosmetic procedures done on him to look like Lee Junyoung. Y/N was well aware of who he really was, so she wasn't fooled in any way." Taeyong confirmed, making Xiaojun promptly ask the next question—

"Then why didn't she say something—anything to let us know she was in danger?"

Taeyong gulped, while a haze glazed over Kyungsoo's eyes. They remembered the first time they opened the blackmail file Yoonsu had over you. Pictures and videos—countless of it—of a teenager you in skimpy clothing, dancing upon the pole with slimy men surrounding you, and your face clearly showed that you'd rather be anywhere else but there.

"The fucker had a file filled with pictures and videos of her when she worked as his stripper—he blackmailed her with it. He also hacked her phone and made her wear this locket which—" Kyungsoo paused, holding up the locket again and opening it to show them the contents, "—contains a bug that could pick up on everything Y/N says. She was constantly under his surveillance. She was his hostage. Y/N was trapped. If she says one wrong thing, then those pictures will spread across her faculty, then her whole campus, the nation—anyone would know better than to take Yoonsu's threats lightly, even though he is a disgraced boss now."

"As some of you know," Taeyong began to take over, looking over to Geonwoo and Woojin as he stressed on 'some', "we had Y/N come down to Gangnam mortuary to ID a corpse we believed was Yoonsu's, and she did give us a positive ID—however, just three days after, she reached out to Detective Do through an unknown number and begged us to believe her when she said Yoonsu was still alive...and she was currently living with him.

It was a good thing Detective Do went ahead and sent the corpse to another mortuary that confirmed it wasn't actually Yoonsu's—and that's how we began to investigate this 'Lee Junyoung' Y/N was living with, and got to reopen the case against Cha Yoonsu. We got to hack into his phone and wipe out the blackmail file he had over her, and uncovered the text messages he exchanged with Y/N and—" Taeyong crossed his arms, taking a pause in telling the main points to address something that stuck to him ever since he read the text messages between you and Yoonsu.

"—I just want to let you know it was always in Yoonsu's plan for Y/N to isolate herself from you. Y/N never wanted to make you feel like you didn't matter to her, but he was blackmailing her to do so. Detective Do once told me she's people-centric, and Yoonsu was well aware of that. It was just a way for Yoonsu to put her through psychological torture."

Everyone's heart broke and tore itself apart hearing Taeyong say that.

Yuno dropped his head and covered his face with his hands, rubbing it when he was reminded of the argument he had with you before you moved out, how he had ignored you during your last days in the condo, practically treated you like you were an unappreciated houseplant. Now that he knew you never meant the things you said, but he had meant his every single word and action.

Geonwoo and Woojin were reminded of the last time they texted you through 'the crew' groupchat, and how Woojin had told you 'good riddance' when you confirmed you were moving in with 'Junyoung'.

Yangyang remembered how horribly he treated you, openly ignoring you to get his disdain for you across, the way you clearly looked uncomfortable and sad during the post mortem meeting for how they treated you. Aeri looked back and reminisced about the time you called each other 'soulmates', and how easily she got rid of the memories when she chose to ignore you from the day of the concert.

Xiaojun could never forgive himself for treating you like a distant acquaintance as if he hadn't told you his regrets and secrets that you still kept close to your heart despite the fallout. It was worse than just openly ignoring you—whereas Yangyang and Aeri were at least open with their dislike for you, Xiaojun treated you with indifference. As if he wasn't at all affected with you pulling yourself away from them, like he didn't really care for you at all.

Mark felt like puking when he realised the last time he argued with spoke to you, he had called you a coward. Of all the insults he could use that would at least be generic, surface-level and the least hurtful, he called you a coward. You were getting blackmailed, held hostage, and manipulated by a slimy bastard—and he called you a coward. As if you weren't being the bravest you'd ever been as you faced Yoonsu alone with no one else on your side. As if you haven't always been the bravest among them.

When everyone's reminded of their promise to forget you, it felt like their whole chest was caving in. When they tried to imagine just how alone you had been, how hurt you were to see them push you away, it felt like there were bullets getting lodged inside their chest for every time they yelled, berated, and ignored you.

Seeing everyone go quiet at the realization they had played a part in Yoonsu's plan to psychologically break you, both detectives sighed. Yoonsu intended for this kind of damage. Not only you suffered, but the pain also bled through to everyone else around you, to the people who love and care for you.

"It was just hours ago when we wiped out the file from his phone. Once we did it, we told Y/N to leave their apartment so we could get to arrest him, but she didn't listen. She..." Kyungsoo sighed in the middle, opening his phone and showed the text messages he exchanged with you just hours ago, "...she still followed him to where he was taking her because she still wanted to know what he did to Junyoung—where his body was buried. I know for a fact she had never stopped mourning for him...and it's why she felt responsible for his death. Why she decided to put herself in danger anyway, how she ended up getting beaten up and stabbed by Yoonsu—because that's just who she is. Jeong Y/N. So selfless, it's actually selfish."

That was the actualisation of who you really were. Selfishly selfless. They now know of who Jeong Y/N truly is at her core.

Damn you.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Jeong Y/N." The main surgeon spoke out hoarsely—she had been in that surgical suite for more than 6 hours.

It was in the dead of the night, the large digital clock in the waiting area displayed '03:06 A.M.' in blaring red. Kyungsoo and Taeyong stood up while the rest woke up who had dozed off into light slumber. They couldn't really sleep too deeply, when they're still not sure of your fate in that surgical suite.

When a total of 11 people came to her at the sound of your name, she nearly took a step back. This was a lot of people to be waiting for someone to get out of surgery.

"How is she, Doc?" Kyungsoo asked stiffly, feeling his breath slow as he waited for her to answer.

"She pulled through."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She's a fighter. One of the stab wounds managed to puncture her right lung, and even broke through her 8th and 9th rib. I managed to fix them up, of course, but with how much blood she was losing, within a rapid rate too, I wasn't all that optimistic that she would even make it—but she did. With the way she held on, she saved herself as much as I saved her.

"God, look at what he did to her face. Oh, my sweet girl—what did he do to you?" Yuno's dad sobbed quietly, caressing his daughter's watercolor blotched cheek, as he wailed over your swollen and split lips, your bandaged nose.

Soyeon sat on the sofa of the VIP room, crying silently as she stared at you. She wished she had done something. She wished she had seen through your attempts in pushing her away. What kind of mother was she? When she couldn't even tell her child was in pain and suffering?

Yuno held your open hand, wishing you were gripping on his back, tears streaming down his face but not making a sound as he cried. It broke his heart—he barely recognized you when he saw you. The bruises on your face were too much. He felt his own face aching just by looking at you. He wanted to beat himself up for ignoring before you moved out. He didn't care for all the hurtful things you said to him anymore, he just wanted to be family again.

He wished he got the chance to beat Cha Yoonsu into a pulp.

May I ask what happened to her abuser? Dead? Good. I know she was found beaten at the crime scene, but the bruises all over her body were new and old. Days and weeks old, even. The most severe one was at her stomach—I had to be careful with cutting her torso open because of how sore it was. He kicked her there pretty good, repeatedly too—but thank god not hard enough it would've done any more damage on her rib cage. However, she still needs to take it easy with any kind of upper body and hip movement during her recovery. The rest of the bruises could go away on their own.

"If that bastard was still alive, I would get my whole soccer team—even the benched kids—to jump him for you. I'm even considering defacing his resting place, because he doesn't deserve to rest peacefully for all that he did to you, Y/N." Yangyang heaved in anger from the opposite side of where Yuno was sitting beside your bed. He blinked away his tears, tasting more bitter and sour than salty—fuck, he was so angry and sad that his tears didn't even taste right.

Aeri was holding on to your other hand, still praying, sounding like a zealot. She had hoped her hand kept yours warm too. If Yoonsu was still alive, she wouldn't be braindead enough to think just beating him half to death could ease her anger. She'd burn him, make him a furnace to keep you warm. She'd do anything to him just for you.

Xiaojun was sitting on a chair beside Yangyang, keeping your hair neat. More often than not, you had always complained that even though you loved how long hair looks on you, you sometimes hated how it would feel. Of course, now that you're still sleeping, he'd keep it neat for you. It was the least he could do for you—because it's not like he had the chance to kill Yoonsu for you. The bastard did the honors himself, it seemed.

She's getting wheeled to the VIP room right now. Heard that someone among you has connections to the one who funds this hospital—and good for her, then. After all that kid has been through, I'm glad she gets to rest in a comfortable room, with plenty of space for all of you to fit—just, don't huddle too closely over her, okay? I know you're all worried for her, but she just got out of surgery, so there's still risks of infection and whatnot.

Geonwoo and Woojin were just right outside, talking with a man decked out in an obviously very expensive casual clothing set. The man seemed fond of the ex MMA athletes, even calling them his younger brothers, and it wasn't at all surprising to see him so fond of them considering he drove to the hospital at 3 a.m. in the morning to see them. The man was Hong Minbeom, and he was the one who pulled the strings to get you the VIP room. He's the one behind the hospital's funding.

"Thanks again, Hyung." Geonwoo sighed, looking at the door.

Minbeom beamed at the both of them.

"It's no biggie, kiddos. Just tell her I wish her a speedy recovery."

Minbeom had met you before. When they held a gala to officiate Taeho Memorial Hospital's opening, Geonwoo brought Taeho's granddaughter as his plus one, and Woojin had brought you as their plus one. The chaebol found you to be a cute kid, a good fit with his two younger brothers. He didn't mind doing a favour for you, considering you were also a victim of a bastard loanshark like he had been a victim of Kim Myeonggil.

Here's the bad news though. Clearly, something very hard hit her head, and then she got stabbed not long after—head injury with rapid blood loss is a bad combo. It's why I consider her a miracle. Because of the head injury, there's no telling when she would wake up. Could be days, weeks or months. All I can say right now is just to stay optimistic. If she pulled through during the surgery, then she can also hold on strong enough for this.

Mark stood behind Yuno, heart tearing itself apart as he wondered when you would wake up. It's hard to look at your face while it's marred with heavy bruises and scratches, but it's gut wrenching to do nothing but watch as you stayed asleep, your eyes closed, your mouth in a thin line. He was praying just as incessantly as Aeri was, but not as loud.

Only God knew just how hard his heart was praying for you to wake up—because he wanted those eyes to open and look at him as he begged for your forgiveness, as he promised to stick by your side no matter what after this. All you had to do was wake up.

prev | masterlist | next

A/N : my fingers are now officially broken!!!!

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

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#nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct smau #nct mark #mark lee #mark lee x reader

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noiriarti · 3 months ago

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The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 6

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: a lot of jerking off WC: 8.4k AN: thank you all for your patience!! i started grad school so i got a bit busy, but now i will update about once a week! thank you all for the love :) also i am so sorry about all the angst

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, [Ch. 6], Ch. 7, Ch. 8

Chapter 6: Tearing

The afternoon sun filtered through his window shade and cast his room in its warm glow, but Anakin was too busy with his notes on his desk to notice. He needed something to do with his hands, just to keep himself focused, to keep his thoughts from wandering to you. To answer a practice problem, he was trying to find a specific case of heat diffusion the class had discussed--somewhere in October, he thought, but he wasn't quite sure. His desk was already messy before he began studying, but he was making it even worse with a paper thrown here, a staple there.

His eyes scanned the paper this way and that, trying to absorb any iota of information, but the words were slippery, wily things that wriggled out of his grasp. In the end, it turned out he had flipped past the page several times without seeing what he needed, and he finally found it on his fifth pass. Subconsciously, he dug his nails into his palms in frustration. Why couldn't he work? Why were you doing this to him?

His phone chimed, a text from his mom. Hey, how are finals? Doing okay?

For a few days, he'd been ducking questions about whether he was sleeping or eating enough, because he knew she'd be disappointed with his answers. He was running out of ways to change the subject in phone calls, and he knew she was catching on. Anakin decided he should probably respond.

yeah, really stressed about one of them, rest are fine. thesis going ok.

A second later, his phone lit up again.

Good luck. I'm so proud of you, Anakin, no matter what. As soon as he read it, he dropped his head into his hands. His forehead was clammy under his fingers. Of course she was proud of him unconditionally. He knew that. But he knew that he would be even prouder if he won. If he got a 4.0 this semester. Once, after he said something like that to Ahsoka, she looked at him with that knowing expression only she could produce, and asked him if his mom had ever said anything like that. Technically, no, he conceded, but he couldn't let her down.

He just felt so stupid right now, looking at the pages blanketing his desk. He'd been sitting over them for too long, but he couldn't bring himself to get up and stretch or take a break. He couldn't bring himself to do anything, really, let alone focus. So he was trapped. All he could do was just sit there, drink his Red Bull, and kind of review until he could destroy this exam next week.

Anakin decided to try another practice problem. Maybe that would make it click.

The surface tension of liquid argon is given by--

His phone buzzed against the desk. Putting it on loud was a bad idea, and he knew it. Maybe he was just looking for an excuse. It was probably his mom, saying something else. Or, he hoped as his heart jumped, maybe you were coming from the lab early and wanted to meet and study. Or hook up. Or just talk. Whatever, as long as it didn't involve his textbook. His phone buzzed again. And again.

He gave in and opened it. It was you, he found, and he grinned like a lunatic, but caught himself. Then again, he was alone, so it didn't matter, really.

But then he read your texts.

Where are you We need to talk Now

He typed back immediately, his fingers flying faster than he thought they could.

in my room is everything ok?

He looked at the screen, saw the bubbles pop up that meant you were typing, then watched as they disappeared. Anakin was frozen, his phone in his hand. We need to talk could just have been a poor phrasing on your part, right? It didn't mean what he thought it did, right? He could deny it only for about five more seconds, when the little bubbles didn't return.

Fuck. Anakin let loose a string of curses and dropped his phone on his desk. He couldn't think of a single thing that would warrant ending… whatever the two of you had. But maybe you'd realized that he was doing a lot more than what fuckbuddies (fuckenemies?) should do, that he was an absolute wreck for you, and had been for a long time.

The caffeine was getting to him, and his leg was bouncing so quickly that he swore his downstairs neighbor would submit a noise complaint. His mind started racing with all the things he never would have told you, the things that would go unsaid if you ended what the two of you were doing. He'd never tell you that he had two dogs growing up, strays, or that his least favorite flavor of Skittles was orange. He'd never tell you that he was pretty sure that he hadn't felt this way about anyone, ever, and that he had laid awake for the past two nights thinking about how, if at all, he would tell you.

Ahsoka's voice echoed in his ears, wisps of sound urging him to just say something. His mind was racing, a million trains of thought all colliding at once. He should just tell you. He'd never learn your favorite kind of cereal. He hadn't responded to his mom, fuck. He regretted having that Red Bull. He'd never tell you that he called you baby during sex because he wanted to say it other times, too. The answer to that thermo question was probably 36 Joules. He'd never tell you that if you called him a pet name he'd melt and let you win any competition because nothing would matter anymore.

But that was precisely why he hadn't told you how he felt. Because if you felt the same way about him, that would be so much better than any amount of money or award. And that wasn't the kind of person he could be.

He'd spent so long training to control that wild hurricane of emotions that pulled him through everyday life. Anakin channeled it into perfectly neat parallelized circuits and technically exquisite poomsae, but around you it all let loose, angry and passionate and just so much.

It was terrifying. You were terrifying. And there was a selfish part of him that said that he deserved to let all those feelings loose for once. To feel as much as he wanted to feel because, goddammit, he was so tired of control.

But Anakin was a lot. A handful, his teachers always said. It was what ended his previous relationship, what drove Padme away. Would it drive you away, too?

If you walked up to him in two minutes and asked him what the two of you were, if it was just casual or something more, would he have the self-control not to blurt out exactly what he was thinking? His stomach flipped at the idea of you leaving the room, leaving his life, without knowing how he felt.

You walking away from him and disappearing into another part of the country after graduation would kill him. He was pretty sure that seeing you at a reunion in five years with someone on your arm, some beautiful person who you had never hated, would smite him on the spot.

He imagined himself six months from now, when the thesis was over. What would that Anakin want for himself? Would he let himself say something? Fuck it all, he would say. And he was right.

If you were going to end things, he was going to get this off his chest. He had to. He wasn't sure he could live with himself if he didn't.

The sound of knuckles on wood cut through the silent room like a dagger through his heart. One, two, three seconds passed as he sat in his desk chair, mind totally blank. He tried to produce a coherent feeling or, if he was lucky, an entire thought, but he came up empty.

Before, it was all something nebulous, something he could just worry about. Something he could stress about. Now, it was real. You were behind that door, and you needed to talk. And there was no escaping that. With heavy legs, he dragged himself to the door.

Anakin pretended not to notice that his hand was shaking when he wrapped it around the doorknob.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The bus ride back to your dorm had been uneventful, other than the way you were staring daggers into the skull of some poor guy in front of you. He had the good sense to not turn around.

Anakin Skywalker is a thief. You clenched your fists, and you could barely feel the sting of your nails in your palms. Barriss wasn't one to lie, based on the past three years you'd spent with her. She told you the facts right after: she overheard one of the graduate students--probably Obi-Wan, but she didn't know who, just some vaguely hot older guy, she said--telling Anakin his idea for a thesis. And then Anakin ran with it.

If she was right, that changed everything. If Anakin really didn't come up with his own idea, that meant he had rigged the competition. He had a leg up this whole time. He really was exactly what you had thought for years. The golden boy of the department who had everything handed to him. And while you'd labored over choosing the perfect, most viable but impressive idea, he had just skipped right over that step. You'd cried over how hard it was to find a good idea, struggled for weeks on end last year, just trying to make something good, let alone great. And he was already weeks ahead of you in the competition.

All of his sweet gestures--staying with you in bed, holding hands in the library, getting you drinks--were suddenly less sweet. Last year, he was in the thesis lab with you, when he was working on his proposal, watching you go through ideas and get upset when they didn't work, and he knew that. And he never told you about where his idea came from, even when you were getting closer. He probably knew it would piss you off, and he still didn't tell you. He'd hidden it from you.

You didn't know if that hurt more or less than the unfairness of his advantage.

The bus slowed to a stop in front of your dorm, and you hopped off, then dashed to the elevator.

You just wanted him to tell you that Barriss was crazy, or misheard. Or anything. Anything to make it not true.

The elevator ride was agony as it whizzed up to his floor.

At his door, you hesitated. If you entered and fought, that made this real. So, so real. The second you walked through that door, everything between the two of you might change.

But you were too furious not to knock. Silence hung for a few seconds before you could hear the door unlock.

Anakin opened it to you, looking unfairly hot. Rage ripped through you as he looked at you with open affection, gesturing to enter his room, like nothing had changed. Like he wasn't lying to you all this time. You stormed in quickly.

"Anakin, I need you to be honest with me." Your voice came out tighter than you wanted as you searched his face for a reaction. He closed the door, then came to stand in front of you.

"I'm always honest with you," Anakin replied earnestly, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he forced a small smile.

You didn't smile back. "How did you come up with the idea for your project?"

"What?" Anakin blinked, caught off guard. He let out a breathy chuckle. "That--that's what you wanted to talk about?"

"Well?" You pressed, crossing your arms. The edge in your voice was obvious, cutting. You could see Anakin go through the stages of realizing what you might mean, and your stomach started to sink even deeper.

Anakin sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration. "I--Really? Okay, fine. There aren't currently any microsurgery tools that mimic human hands. They're all pincers. So I wanted to make one." Your gaze narrowed.

"And you're saying Obi-Wan had nothing to do with it?"

"What are you talking about?" It was probably supposed to sound confused, but it came out more scared. You knew him well enough to tell. God, he was infuriating.

"Did you or did you not get your idea from Obi-Wan?" The words came out like tiny daggers, sharpened steel that you spat at him. His face fell, and you could see the moment that he knew you knew.

"Look, it's not like that," Anakin said, his arms falling to his sides. His eyes were suddenly avoiding yours, like his desk suddenly contained some information he desperately needed, or, preferably an escape hatch.

"Then what is it like?" You shot back, your heart racing. You stepped closer, trying to find an answer in his furrowed eyebrows. "Why can't you just say no?"

Anakin's jaw clenched, and he was obviously searching for the right words. Words that wouldn't piss you off, probably. "Because Obi-Wan helped, I guess."

"You guess?!" Your voice cracked, incredulous.

"I mean--look." Anakin raised his hands defensively. "Sure, Obi-Wan put me on the path to it. But every second in the lab since then has been me. My design, my coding."

"What do you mean put you on the path? You mean he gave you the idea, don't you?" Your frustration with him was boiling over. Even now, he was defending himself, trying to evade this. Justifying. It drove you crazy.

Anakin hesitated, his words faltering. "I--It's not--"

"Are you seriously about to say that it's not that simple or something?" You interrupted, your voice shaking. You threw your hands up, your fury finally reaching its peak. "Because, from here, it looks simple. Like you stole your whole fucking thesis idea!"

"That's not true!" Anakin snapped, his voice louder now. It wasn't the same kind of anger you were used to seeing from him, it was defensive, almost panicked. "Obi-Wan, he just, he suggested I look at applying an old project of mine to microsurgery. And he was right. So, I guess, technically, if you're looking at it like that--sure. He gave me the idea."

You stared at him, his words sinking in. His admission hung between you like a guillotine, its rope finally snapped. The air felt tight, like you were ten thousand miles above sea level and there wasn't enough oxygen to keep you afloat.

Anakin shifted again, his anger gone, his voice softer, pleading. "It's like… I don't know. I guess I feel guilty about it. But I really needed to submit something that day, or I couldn't enter into the competition at all. It was the rules. If I don't do a thesis… I--I don't know. I just had to. And I figured I'd just use that temporarily, and pivot as soon as it was approved, It was in the end of junior spring, and I just couldn't find a topic that worked. That idea I had about hand prosthetics didn't pan out, and I was telling Obi-Wan about it in the lab, and he told me I should look at microsurgery, 'cause they have a lot of the same issues--calibrating movement to user input, holding up to wear and tear, dealing with friction and joint movement--and that I should do my thesis on it."

His eyes finally met yours again, so deep and blue that it almost made you reconsider. Almost. He was pleading, begging you to understand. "So, yeah, I submitted an early version of the idea Obi-Wan gave me. But every second of design, build, everything was me. It's my work."

You stood frozen, silent. After a few long beats, Anakin started to fidget, his hands wringing so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"If I could go back, I'd do something else. Anything else." Anakin's voice wavered, and his shoulders slumped under the weight of his guilt. "I just--I didn't know what else to do. I needed to submit something, anything. I need to win this," he finished, his voice trailing off.

The anguish over being proven right was something you didn't expect. You should have felt vindicated, that you were actually right all along about him. You should have hated him. But instead, you could feel your heart breaking, like a marionette with its strings cut, slumped over and lifeless. If he had just admitted it to you himself, maybe you could get over this. Maybe. But the fact that he hid it from you cut like a knife. Tears welled in your eyes, and your throat was drier than you'd ever felt it. The words fell from your lips softly, like you could barely get them out.

"How could you?" You felt like you'd never known him, like the person in front of you was a stranger. How could he be both this person, and the one who would keep you warm at night?

Anakin noticed the coldness of your gaze, and it gutted him. Anakin's breath caught, and you could see him shatter in real time. His cheek twitched, right under his scar, and you could swear you saw his eyes start to fill with tears. His hands were shaking where they were clasped together, and you were sure he was leaving indents with his nails. His shoulders shook under his panicked breaths.

He didn't speak for several long seconds, his mouth tugging this way and that as he tried to think of something, anything, to say.

"Do you think I'm a bad person?" He asked as he stepped toward you, trying to seek reassurance to keep him from falling apart. But you couldn't give it. You didn't even know him anymore.

"I--" you opened your mouth, hesitating, before you restarted, "I don't know." Your voice cracked, but you hardened it. "I didn't before, but now I'm not so sure."

Anakin took another step closer, reaching out with his shaking hands as if to touch you, but you backed away. His face flushed even more, hurt and frustration jumping across his features. It made you even more angry. "This is so fucking unfair, and you just--you just let it happen."

He said your name, trying to jump in, but your anger surged, and it drowned him out.

"I spent weeks getting my idea just right." Each words was more brutal than the last. "Weeks. And you got everything spoon-fed to you. Everything I worked for--and you just took it from someone."

Anakin flinched like you had struck him, but you were far from done.

"I thought I knew you, I thought I was wrong about you this whole time," you spat, your fists clenching at your sides, "But I was right all along. You're just a fucking cheater."

A tear slipped down the side of his cheek as you continued. Your voice shook as you admitted to him, and to yourself, what the worst part really was. "And you didn't even have the decency to tell me. And that makes you a fucking asshole."

He shook his head, his eyes stinging as he started to speak. "No, please, it's not--"

"Stop it!" You shouted, your voice cracking with emotion. Anakin stood frozen, his outstretched hand falling limply to his side. Your breath rushed through your nose and your pulse beat in your ears. You couldn't even see him anymore through the tears, but you refused to let them fall. To let him see you cry.

He said your name one more time, begging, pleading. For a moment, you were tempted, but the hurt was too big to ignore.

Your voice was cold, distant. "Get away from me," you ordered. Your back was rigid with anger and hurt. "And leave me the fuck alone."

Without waiting for him to respond, you stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind you.

You stalked down the hall as quickly as you could, ignoring the buzzing in your pocket as the tears you were holding back finally poured down your cheeks. You didn't even have the energy to wipe them away, you just let them fall while you punched the button for the elevator.

Only when the door closed, and you pulled out your phone to call Ahsoka, did you see his messages.

please come back we can talk this out please give me another chance

They were all sent minutes apart. You could hear his voice reading them, desperate and thick with tears. Even though you were angry, angrier than you had ever been at him, the idea of him crying still made your chest ache. And then it made you feel vindicated. But then it made you feel horrible again.

You arrived back to the lobby, then crossed the building to the other elevator bank, trying to avoid the awkward gazes the students passing by gave you. You sniffled wetly, wiping away your tears, as you ran up the two flights of steps that brought you to your room. You unlocked the door as quickly as you could, then hid inside.

Your phone buzzed again.

i understand that you don't want to talk, but the second you're ready, i'll be here. i'll always be here.

The words made you sob loudly, and you were thankful for a moment that Ahsoka wasn't home. Until you saw the text, it hadn't hit you that this was the last time you'd talk for a while. You couldn't even remember the last kiss you two had shared. The library? Was that the kiss you wanted this to end on? You'd never see his half-lidded eyes as he worshipped you, never hear him call you baby again.

Why did he have to go and fuck it all up? You asked yourself, sobs wracking your body as you slid down the door. You couldn't tell if you were more sad or angry, but you were definitely heartbroken. Lately, his casual touches, his affection, the way you slept together every night, it was starting to feel like more. But it was all gone now.

You had been numbed with caffeine and stress, but the past week, you felt like you were soaring every time he touched you. Every time he gave you that intense look he always did.

But the two of you were just hooking up. It wasn't supposed to be anything more, and you never thought you'd feel the pull to be with him when you weren't fucking, but it was like gravity. Even now, you wanted him to comfort you. Not someone, but him.

The realization that you had feelings for him hit you like a truck. All the breath was gone from your lungs, gone to some other dimension.

You liked Anakin Skywalker. Even though he was an asshole. Even though he'd hurt you. But those feelings didn't end just because whatever you were had ended, they didn't leave you alone.

You could have been his girlfriend if he hadn't hidden this from you. And that was the last nail in the coffin that made you break down fully.

You sat there, crying, sobbing, wailing, for at least another half hour before you dragged yourself to the shower. It made you feel the tiniest bit better to have your hair clean, your tears scrubbed off your face until the skin went sensitive and ruddy. When the water turned off, it was cold, and you relished the shock to your system.

And then, you started the process of getting over him. You knew you had to do it eventually, and you only had to get through finals before you could go home and forget all about him. Come January, when you next saw him in the lab, it'd be like seeing any other classmate.

That thought was enough to make you start crying again while you stood in the towel you stole from your house. Your tears mingled with the water from the shower, and it was enough to let you pretend that you weren't crying, that becoming strangers with Anakin didn't kill you inside.

You promised yourself that this would be the last time you cried this semester. That night, if you felt the threat of tears, you just threw yourself harder into whatever you were studying. There was nothing else you could do.

At the thermo exam two days later, you walked in later than you usually would for a final that was this important. When you slipped into the class, two minutes before they started passing out test papers, you spotted Anakin in the corner. Because of course you did. Your eyes hadn't stopped finding him in every photo, in every room. He had always been magnetic, and, just because you weren't together anymore didn't mean that stopped. And he was looking right at you.

His gaze ripped through you with some mix of desperation, affection, and sorrow. Anakin looked, in one word, horrible. His eyes were sunken in, red and swollen from crying. Most people would not have noticed, but you knew him too well. His dark circles had come back with a vengeance, like fresh bruises on his otherwise smooth and clear skin. His mouth twitched when he looked at you, like he was going to say something, but he stayed silent as his eyes followed your path.

Throughout the exam, you could feel his eyes on you a couple of times, but you didn't allow yourself to turn around and look. You let the calm of equations and math wash over you, and soon there was nothing but the test. The questions and the precise way you wrote Greek letters in the blue book lulled you into a state of calm you desperately needed.

When you handed in your exam, you allowed yourself another look at Anakin, and then you left the building. You didn't see him before you went on break two days later.

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Two days before break, he saw you again. He hadn't changed his habits, still studied in the dining hall and had meals there, sometimes went to the library, and he secretly hoped, thrummed with anticipation, that maybe, just maybe, you'd be there too. That maybe you'd see him and realize you wanted to talk it out. That, obviously, did not happen. He spent an embarrassing amount of time awake, because you haunted his dreams whenever they came. The disgusted look on your face and the words I was right all along, you're a fucking asshole echoed in the back of his eyelids and his mind's eye whenever he laid down. So, he stayed up. More time to study, right?

He spent most of those 48 hours trying not to cry and failing miserably. Even when he broke up with Padme, it wasn't like this. He was angry, indignant, and, of course, sad, but it was the kind of sadness that settled deep on his shoulders and dulled the world around him. It wasn't the kind of sadness that wrenched sobs from his chest whenever he wasn't careful. It wasn't the kind of sadness that made him regret ever going to this college, ever meeting you.

Ahsoka cast him a funny look at him one night, when he fell asleep in a common room. She gently shook him awake, and noticed the redness rimming his eyes, and the way his hands shook from too much caffeine. She gave him a hug and made him promise to sleep tonight.

He did, and that was the night before the test. Every muscle and joint screamed in protest as he dragged himself from his bed. He arrived fifteen minutes early, just to make sure he got a good seat, and then his head kept swiveling like an owl. Every time the click of the doors opening echoed through the nearly empty lecture hall, he locked onto the person entering. He was pretty sure he'd accidentally given glares to at least four poor souls before you finally entered.

He resigned himself to the fact that he'd probably failed the exam right then.

You were even prettier than he remembered, and the depth of your eyes when you stared at him was enough to make him shudder. Even now, he'd give anything to be with you again. When you sat down and didn't look at him again for the next three hours, he felt bits of his heart break off and get trampled under equations about heat diffusion and air pressure. You turned in your test, and then left, and he looked after you longingly. His eyes snapped back to his paper when he got a weird look from the TA.

He turned in his exam paper, rushed home, and promptly passed out on his bed. You came to him in his dreams, of course. Naked in his arms, lips pliant and wanting under him. The way your tongue peeked out when you were too hard at work, or the shimmer of your eyes when he made you laugh. The betrayal on your face. Get away from me.

He spent the rest of finals in a fugue state, doing tasks and exams because he was supposed to. Then, finally, the last one passed, and he was finally released to go home. He hadn't seen you since the exam, and that was probably better for him, he reasoned.

On day 1 of break, Anakin drove the whole day and listened to absolutely depressing music the whole time. He pulled over once and, in a fit of rage, smacked the steering wheel a few times. How could he be so stupid? How was he this much of an idiot? He sat at the rest stop for another fifteen minutes, his sweaty forehead on the steering wheel. Five hours later, when he arrived home late in the evening, he hugged his mom. Everything felt a little bit better after that. He had dinner with Shmi and Cliegg, even though all he wanted to do was lay in bed and sulk. He fell asleep quickly--he was too exhausted to stay up torturing himself with what could have been.

On day 2 of break, he lay in bed and just generally moped around. He could never be still for long, so that meant getting up to eat snacks, flicking through TV shows listlessly, and trying not to look at the texts you two had exchanged. He only cried twice, once at the thought that you'd never meet his mom, and the other at the memory of your body in his arms as he fell asleep. Both reduced him to hot, silent tears.

On day 3 of break, he did yard work and drove by his old dojang to say hi to his high school coach. He ended up agreeing to teach some lessons over break to avoid having to sit at home alone with his thoughts for three entire weeks. Plus, the money was good. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be getting that thesis prize at all, at this rate. He only cried once, at night, when he thought about having to watch you work in the thesis lab without speaking to you. He wouldn't cross that boundary. You already knew he wanted to talk, and you hadn't texted him back.

On days 4-9, he taught three hours of lessons a day. It was calming, familiar. He only had to splash cold water in his face to avoid getting too upset two or three times per day, but the undercurrent of wondering what you were doing never stopped torturing him. He hadn't touched himself in at least two weeks, and he regularly had to stop his thoughts from drifting away to the last time he was inside you. Every time it happened at home, in bed, he got up and took a cold shower. It served him right. At the end of the week, he went to the mall and bought his mom a Christmas present with the money he earned. Just because he knew his mom wanted to blend their family better, he picked out something small he could afford for Cliegg, Owen, and Beru, too.

On day 10, it was Christmas Eve, so everything was closed. There was nothing to do, so he answered a few emails from Professor Jinn, cleaned the oven, and helped his mom prepare for Christmas dinner. There were files on his device he had prepared specifically to work on his thesis over break, but his project made him nauseous. He'd give it all back for a chance to start over. He'd get a B on his thesis if it would make this pain stop. He didn't touch the files, and, that night, when he finally gave in to the temptation to see if you'd posted anything on social media, he didn't touch his cock, either, even though just an image of you was enough to drive him wild at that point.

On day 11, it was Christmas, and he woke up at 4am in his bed, as hard as a rock. Anakin spent an hour tossing and turning and begging his body to just let him sleep, but, eventually he gave in. It was Christmas, right? He deserved a present. When he closed his eyes, he didn't even try to think of someone else. It was you. It had been for a while. Your little noises as he kissed up your neck, the scrunch of your eyebrows right as you came, and the tight grip of your pussy around him when he buried himself to the hilt inside you were enough to make him cum all over his hand within a minute. He found it embarrassing, honestly, that you had this effect on him. Anakin fell asleep quickly and tried not to feel too gross about what he'd done.

On day 11, attempt 2, he woke up around 11, right before lunch, and came down to wish his mother and Cliegg a merry Christmas. Beru and Owen were supposed to come for dinner, but, this morning, it was just the three of them. Anakin had no particular yearning for Cliegg to be a father figure, he just wanted his mom to be happy. If Cliegg did that, then he'd watch endless movies with the two of them, or get Cliegg a present. But if she didn't want to be with him anymore, Anakin wasn't sure he'd miss him. Their second anniversary was in three weeks, and it was a shock that it had been that much time already. When dinner rolled around, and he greeted Owen and Beru awkwardly, not sure what a person is supposed to say to a newly-acquired sibling. He'd seen them a sum total of maybe ten times, almost all of which had to do with the wedding, so they were in how-was-school and how's-the-new-job and gosh-the-winter-has-been-brutal territory. When Anakin gave them their presents, they seemed overjoyed. He'd gotten them matching scarves, each with their first initial embroidered onto it. It was a miracle they had them in stock at the mall, he thought, but the present seemed to hit the right spot. Cliegg got the aforementioned fishing pole, something his mom had told him he was prattling on about, and he got his mom a beautiful new winter coat. She had been mending hers for years, and water and snow would soak right through it, but when he saw the beautiful down puffer coat in the store window, he knew she'd love it. He was right.

Cliegg got him a Laser Distance Measure, which must have cost a pretty penny, and Owen and Beru got him various engineering gadgets (a nice mechanical pencil for technical drawings and a cable carrying case, respectively). His mother's gift, though, was something he'd never be able to forgive. She had bought him a beautiful, fresh Raspberry Pi set, with 8 GB of RAM. It wasn't the most expensive thing in the world, but the $150 or $200 that it did cost her was enough to make him tear up. He'd mentioned months ago that he was thinking of getting one for some personal projects, something for his portfolio, and she bought it. He had the good sense not to say anything like You aren't supposed to get me presents for Christmas and crushed her in a hug, the kind that whispered I know how much this is worth, and I'm so lucky you're my mom. For a second, he was worried he would cry when he saw the crow's feet appear by her eyes, and he felt how thin the skin on her hands had gotten. When had she gotten so much older? For a terrifying moment, he realized he'd have to live without her one day, but then Cliegg made some comment about how he'd made hot cocoa, and they all gathered around the living room to chat. As the last tendrils of sunlight fell beneath the swath of trees in their backyard, he laughed at something Owen had said, and he felt the tiniest bit less alone. Like maybe it didn't matter if he got an A in thermo or had the best thesis in his year. The notion left him quickly.

On days 12-17, the warm feeling had subsided, and all he could think about was what you were doing. Whether you were moving on, or if you still felt the same way he did. If you wanted him again. The fantasy of you seeing him again and realizing that, oh, actually, you wanted to work it out, and also kiss him, inevitably ended with his hand on his cock and cum on his stomach, then regret and shame for about an hour afterward. Once the studio had reopened, he kept teaching there, but with more hours this time. Also, Anakin could finally open the folder on his computer named Thesis without cringing at it, but barely. His heart still skipped about four beats when he thought about how he'd have to see you practically every day. He pushed thoughts like that from his mind as much as he could. No point in torturing himself more than the actual semester would.

Day 18 was New Year's Eve. He went to a party hosted by some of his high school friends, some rager at a frat house. He just wanted to get drunk, honestly, and this seemed like a great excuse. It was sticky and hot even right outside the door, but the sweaty blast of steam that hit him when someone opened it turned his stomach. But the beer was free, so he wouldn't complain too much. A couple of times, he noticed a girl checking him out over the bone-shaking bass. He might have made a move, if he were a different person. If any one of them was you, or had your smile, or your eyes. As soon as he noticed something that was too different from you, he averted his gaze. They were all cute, he supposed, but that didn't matter. They weren't you. When the countdown started, Anakin retreated, not interested in being pulled into some kiss that stunk of beer. Instead, despite knowing he'd regret it, he sent you a text. happy new year, it read. He blamed the tequila, and went back into the fray of cheering people.

From days 19-24, Anakin kept on keeping. Dishes, teaching, occasional progress on his thesis. He submitted over 20 job applications. Sometime in the week, in his daily rehashing of all your messages, he noticed the read receipt had popped up on his text from New Year's Eve, and he cursed himself. He was cursing himself a lot lately. Especially when he promised he wouldn't jerk off over you, but it always ended up happening. The subtle rock of his hips against the mattress when he thought of you, grinding the hard flesh against the soft material, then the sticky warmth of release and the rush of regret that always came with it. The heat of the shower made him hard when he thought about how he'd always wanted to try fucking in the shower, more specifically, fucking you in the shower. He really shouldn't, he reasoned while his hand pumped his dick.

Day 25 was spent driving again, after he gave his mom a big hug and threw his suitcase in the car. Despite himself, he realized that he was no more over you than he had been on his drive to his house. The fact that he would see you tomorrow still made him perk up and wilt at the same time. In a short twenty-four hours, you'd be real, three-dimensional in front of him again. He wasn't sure what would happen--would you kiss him? Slap him? Combust? He could never tell with you. He wondered if you'd cut your hair over break, or if you'd talked to Ahsoka about him. Whatever fantasies he'd been nursing, they were all going to be proven or disproven tomorrow. So he had to use the hour before he arrived on campus to imagine, as hard as he could, that you were in the passenger seat. That you were his girlfriend. That you had just come from meeting his mom, who had shown you a bunch of truly humiliating baby pictures and had whispered to him that she liked you when you had gone to the bathroom. For the rest of the night, that was the reality he lived in.

You had compared schedules last semester, before things got weird, and you shared only two classes, both of which were on Mondays and Wednesdays. At 10:30, you'd both be in Unsupervised Learning, then at 2:30, you'd both take Dynamic Systems and Controls. When he woke up at 8:30, he showered, then tried to wipe the tiredness from his eyes. He put on a shirt he knew you loved (you'd remarked on how well it fit him, and he didn't see it, but you did, and that was all that mattered) and his most comfortable jeans and hoodie. He secretly hoped you were doing the same kind of preening at home, trying to look good for him, but he didn't let the thought take up too much room in his mind.

At 10:25, when he walked into the lecture hall, he saw you instantly. Time stopped as he felt like someone had just gotten a particularly good hit to his solar plexus, and his whole body was responding, out of breath and weak and dizzy all at the same time. You were in the third row, to the left-hand side of the seats, and you looked more gorgeous than he remembered. How didn't he spend the whole break fantasizing about the way your hair shone or the curve of your neck? Seconds started ticking by again when he realized he was blocking the path to the seats, much to the anger of the group of people behind him. He walked down the steps to the second row like everything was normal, then positioned himself on the other side of the lecture hall. He kept his eyes firmly not trained on you for as long as he could, and, when the professor started droning, he turned to look at you, really look at you.

You had put on just a touch of makeup, something he'd noticed years ago that you always did on the first day of class. It suited you, and you looked well-rested and happy. Like you didn't miss him at all. It gutted him like a fish on the chopping block. What was wrong with him? How could he let you get away?

He turned back to the professor, pretending to be interested in the syllabus. When class ended, by the time he packed up his things, you had gone.

The second class was a repeat of the first, only in a smaller lecture hall. He tried to keep his cool, he really did, but he snuck glances. He was only human.

He didn't go into the lab for the week, mainly because he was almost done with build and was spending most of his time on securing materials for testing. They had their first practice that Monday, so he got dressed and headed over to the Athletic Center, where he grounded himself in the ritual, the calming power of it all. It was amazing to see Rex and Ahsoka again. They always made him smile, something he'd been missing over the break.

Later that week, Ahsoka invited him to your room to talk about that semester's competitions. He hesitated the appropriate amount of time before he accepted. The hallway to your room was achingly familiar, just like he'd seen it in his dreams. Only Ahsoka was home, so she wasted no time before interrogating him about what happened with the two of you.

When he told her the general gist, she had the good decency to be honest and tell him that he was kind of being an asshole by not mentioning it, but that it was normal to get advice from professors and other students. It wasn't ideal for it to be as explicitly grabbed, sure, but the point still stood.

By the time the door opened and you came in (his mind raced--from a date? from class? from some other part of your life that he would never come to know?), Anakin and Ahsoka were discussing taekwondo logistics. You looked gorgeous in the cozy cable-knit sweater you had on, and he hoped against all hope that he wasn't staring the way he thought he was.

You looked shocked for a good second before smiling awkwardly with a little "hey." You retreated to your room almost instantly, and Anakin felt a pit open up, wondering if he'd made you uncomfortable. It wasn't his fault, honestly, but he still felt guilty. He left an hour afterward.

Was this his fate? To watch you from a middle distance as you lived your life? He was trapped, pinned down like a bug, reading into everything he saw. If you were in a four-block radius, his eyes would find you. They always would. In class, he had to stop himself from turning toward you, from studying your features and trying to read anything from them. He never could.

Anakin was still fucking haunted by you, especially now that he was on campus. Everything reminded him of you. The boba place, every inch of your dorm, the emptiness in his mattress. He knew he was hallucinating when he thought he spied you at practice one day, just a wisp of hair in the corner of the room, but, by the time he did a double take, there was only empty floor there.

On Thursday, he got a text from Ahsoka.

Party tomorrow at Cody's. You should come, she had written. He didn't really, actually feel like partying. But he went anyway. Maybe he could spend enough time with his friends to forget about you.

He threw on a nice shirt, some kind of button-up his mom had gotten him, cuffed the sleeves, and set off.

It was a standard-issue party. He'd been to plenty of them, so he figured was ready and prepared for what he'd see and feel. Bass in his eardrums so loud it shook the blood in his veins. Having to scream basic conversation over music. Cheap beer and a sticky floor. Enough heat that his hair would start curling more.

It felt like home. He entered, found Cody and Ahsoka quickly, promising to return after he grabbed a drink. Anakin made his way to the folding table crammed full of bottles, as well as some kind of vile jungle juice, and took two shots. Just enough to stop thinking about you, he hoped.

By the time he fought his way back to Cody and Ahsoka, he was feeling it. Rex had joined them in the meantime, and Anakin joined the little huddle. They were talking (read: yelling "what did you say?" over the music) about one of Cody's dates that week, and Anakin let himself slip into the familiar rhythm of his friends. It was nice, honestly. He only thought of you five or six times, which was a record low.

Then Ahsoka suggested they go get another drink, and, as the four of them pushed back toward the drinks station, he saw you.

You were fucking radiant, and the breath stalled in his chest. You had always been the only thing he ever wanted to look at in a room, even from sophomore year, when you began to piss him off more than anything, but right now, you were a supernova. And he was a moth. He felt his wings get burned off as he traced the curve of your jaw and acknowledged to himself that, yeah, he probably wasn't going to get over you until you were across state lines.

You were wearing some sinfully short, tight dress, which crept higher and higher up your thighs. He could tell you weren't wearing a bra, and something stirred inside of him.

But then he saw the guy standing next to you, leaning in to tell something to your ear. Anakin hated himself for the thought, but he instantly started comparing himself to the guy. What was Mr. Boat Shoes saying to you that made you tip your head back and laugh like that? He remembered when he used to do that, when he would make you throw your head back to do more than just laugh.

Anakin felt his jaw clench and his body start to shake with the same energy that he always had before competitions, coiled like a snake about to strike.

He knew it was a bad idea, he really did. But he was never one to resist bad ideas. He blamed the alcohol. It wasn't that you were his, or some misguided attempt at owning you, but he just couldn't watch this. He couldn't let this feeling tear him apart anymore. When you swatted the guy's chest playfully, Anakin felt his eye twitch, right under his scar. Oh hell no. But he shouldn't. It was your business.

Fuck it.

Anakin started pushing through the crowd, and then he saw the guy lean in, and he saw red.

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carmenized-onions · 2 months ago

Text

Loosen Your Grip. | R & D

logline; even when it seems counter-intuitive.

[!!!] series history; so many parts, so many words.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. 8 hour mark officially! Lets go!

portion; 15k knowing the next chapters, this trend isn't going to change. they have started to line up with the chapter number, to my chagrin.

possible allergies; i think this one is relatively harmless? Stress though. Everyone's stressed. Idk what to tell you man, it's the bear. oh but more things were yoinked from Season 3!! Think that's just gonna be ongoing tbh. also if this is bad don't tell me. tell me it's really good, actually. i've never doubted a chapter more than I do this one.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader it's so fem. it's so she/her'd it's so girl'd i'm so sorry

kofi; if you’ve enjoyed the series, perhaps you wanna tip!

i'm so sorry for the delays beloveds, can you say 'most high stress but high reward month and a half of my life'? i can!!!

The Monday morning after New York— The first morning waking up in your own bed in a day or two— Comes rudely. Well, not immediately. First you have to roll over and grab aimlessly at your nightstand, searching for your phone to turn off your alarm. Through blurred vision you slide it to snooze, and as you debate going back to bed, your eyes glaze over some texts you’ve received in your sleep, from numbers you never bothered to put in your contacts. It takes a minute to absorb the information and register it as real, but once you do—

“...Are you fucking kidding me?!”

—You’re definitely not gonna be heading back to bed anymore. You’re wide-eyed and wired— You can probably skip coffee this morning. Maybe every morning forever.

“Oh— I fucking hate this fucking city, I fucking hate Chicago— Fuck this!”

In lieu of coming to terms with your world shattering news, perhaps this is an important moment to express gratitude, for the things that have gone well in the past few days.

The rest of the weekend in New York was as lovely as a last-minute trip in a cramped car full of kitchen equipment and four neurotics can be.

Gratitude. Highlight reel?

There’s a bag M and Ms monogrammed with Syd’s, Richie’s, Carmy’s, and your faces in your pantry now. Eva shouldn’t be the only one allowed to have fun. Though snacking on all your cute little faces does make you feel like a slight monster.

Managed to get a good gift for Richie. Thank you Tiffanys. It was certainly an interesting moment when everyone tried to come up with lame excuses as to why they had to split up from the group to definitely totally not go get Christmas presents.

Carmen’s knife guy wasn’t able to do engravings on such short notice, and you’re not the type to settle for less, especially not with Syd, so that’ll be a next year gift, it seems. You came up with a serviceable back-up while strolling through the MET— Which was a mostly fun field trip, it was very inspiring. You all could've done without Richie's pretentious prattling about postmodern absurdist dadaism. Mostly because you're pretty sure half of it was wrong; but still a good trip, all told.

Still lost on what to get Carmen… You’ve got a week, it’s fine. You’ve done more with less before. How do you subtly ask a guy, ‘hey, what the hell else do you like besides your job?’ You’ll figure it out. Figure it out like you figure out everything else, like you always do. Hopefully.

It's Monday. You've got a week. It's fine. Stop looking at your phone. This is such bad timing. This is awful fucking timing. You’ll figure it out. Stop looking at your phone, stop looking at the texts. Do the Connections, send it to Carmy, he already sent his, be normal… Just such bad timing—

At the very least if you can't bear to look away from the life ruining texts, just shut your phone off. You’ve got to stop ruminating or you’ll rot in bed forever. And you really have to get out on time, today.

“God wants me to kill myself—” Gratitude. Express gratitude.

The drive back went ‘well’. Everyone had their licenses so the squad took shifts either driving or sitting on the uncomfortable console. Or, in your case specifically, sitting half on Carmen’s lap in shotgun on occasion despite the many complaints from Syd and Richie. You had a good excuse! Neither of you slept for the entire trip just to work on the cocktail and coffee menu. It was practically a sacrifice! It was just easier to sit up front together, okay!? You had to be close, you were scribbling ratios and drawings of glasses into a stolen notepad from the Holiday Inn with pencil crayons bought from FAO Schwarz—

Oh, hey, put that on the gratitude scoreboard, that was another thing that went well. Pretty cool to go to the oldest toy store in America. Might not have gotten the chef in your life anything yet, but the kids in your life are covered— You’re winning best Aunt for sure.

Oh, huge highlight— Didn’t say love you, like some idiot. Got away with that by the skin of your teeth, honestly. Hard to stare up at the Rockefeller Christmas Tree next to the guy and not blurt out something fucking stupid. Thank God for Syd, who stomped on your foot when you seemed a little too doe eyed.

With great pain and bemoaning, you finish expressing gratitude, which hasn’t helped much. You slam your phone screen down on your nightstand and roll out of bed.

Today’s Monday. Today’s your first day at The Bear. Today that is the priority and there is nothing else to worry about.

You signed your contract last night. Talked to Syd for hours about it, planning next steps and goals and classes and budgets and a million other things. You’re both a little easily excitable, when it comes to lists and plans. Watching you sign yours gave her the ‘confidence’ to sign hers, if you can call it that. Not like you knew she needed the help, though.

“I love my life, I love my life, I love my life…” If you keep saying it while washing your face in the bathroom, it’ll become true, right? …Where’s Sara’s card again?

The Bear doesn’t run service on Mondays, so it’s a good day to do onboarding— Good day to do R and D. …What does one wear to R and D? Don’t need the serving uniform. Don’t need to dress up. Don’t need the jumpsuit… This is the first time you don’t need a uniform and that is bizarre.

You’ll wear your dad’s flannel, at least. Feels illegal to not wear the patch worked flannel. But besides that, you’re just a normal… restaurateur… part of the team…

Your hand hovers over where your necklace sits, in the small jewellery box on your vanity. “Mikey, if you want me to keep wearing it, make my ceiling cave in or some shit.”

You give it ten seconds and nothing falls. With a curt nod to no one, you pick up your book bag filled with loose tools and the menu filled notepad. Leave your bedroom, put your shoes on, grab your keys out of your clay dish tray on the way out.

It’s snowing.

That’s a lot of stuff falling, so to speak.

That’s basically a sign. That’s basically what you asked for.

You head back in, grab the necklace, hook it over your neck, and tuck it under your shirt. Baby steps. You head back out.

…And then soon after, head back in— Forgetting one of the most important things you need today. “The fucking glass, goddamn it!”

There’s a chance that today might be a little bit of an off day for you. No one’s gonna notice that, though.

“Mikey, why didn’t you tell me? You want me to look stupid on my start day, don't you? Fucker.”

You’re good. You’re you. You figure shit out. You’re compartmentalising perfectly and no one’s gonna be able to tell that you’re internally scrambling to figure out where you're gonna live once your lease gets terminated.

“ ‘Sup with you?” Okay, so Tina did immediately notice upon opening the back door for you. She tries to help you with the huge sheet of plexiglass you’re carrying, but you wave her off, stumbling further inside The Bear. Thankfully it’s a slow start to the morning, so the walk way is clear for your fumbled steps.

“I got it, T, just spot me—”

“Woahwoahwoah—” But alas, immediately Carmen is rushing over, making a big deal over nothing, “Fuck are you doin?” And grabs the thick sheet of glass from you. “Wait by your car next time, why do I gotta keep tellin’ you?”

“I am very capable—” You grunt, but you’re relieved when he takes the weight off you. You nod to the table in front of expo. “Put it on the island.”

“What’s it for?” Carmy asks but he follows direction without hesitation.

“Syd’s idea.” You walk with him, sidling up to Syd who’s already stationed up on the island with what looks like way too much paperwork for Chefs. You bump her shoulder as a greeting, she bumps you back. She lifts up the stack of papers and you pick up her deli container of Coke and ice, letting Carmen slide the glass onto the table.

“Unless it’s bad—” You correct, putting the cup down and digging through the tool bag on your shoulder for the right parts. “If you hate it, then it’s my idea.”

Syd snorts next to you, putting the papers back down on top of the glass. “Nice save.”

“What’s your idea, Chef?” Carmen taps his fingers against the glass, bemused.

You finally fish out two lock hinges from your bag, gesturing to them with a little flair like you’re Vanna White as Sydney explains. “For R and D. Thought since we’re like— Constantly changing shit and needing to review, it’d be like, useful to have a whiteboard— But those are huge and inconvenient for a restaurant— Duh— So—”

“Glass!” You come in with the assist as she rambles on. “On hinges— These one’s lock so you can have the glass sort of tilted up like an easel, or on the station— And then when you start service you can just flip it down off the counter for the night. Easy!”

“And—And—” Like a TV ad, Syd points out, “We can put paper under it and still be able to see— So it’ll make editing clearer— I-I think.”

Carmen always takes a nerve-wracking amount of time to think through other’s ideas, but once he nods, you both breathe easy. “Smart idea. Thank you, Chefs.”

You just smile, and this seems to bother Carm. Or at the very least, something is bothering him, as he frowns. “You got a second?”

Your brows furrow, for a moment, worried. You nod, putting your tools down. Glass can wait. “Always.”

Carmen comes around the counter, before he pulls you aside, Syd whispers over your shoulder, “Trouble in paradise.” Making you snort. When has it ever been paradise?

The two of you lean across from each other in the doorway of Carmen’s office, not quite in, not quite out. He looks worried, and his worrying is making you worry. He’s first to say something, concerned hand on your shoulder.

“Are you good?”

Fuck, he caught you too? “Hmm? Yeah, I’m good, do I not—”

You’re halfway through your response when he interrupts, he seems even more panicked by your words. His hand abandons your shoulder. “Right— Stupid, stupid fucking question— I just— Sorry—”

“Woah—” You grip both his shoulders, rubbing down his sleeves lightly. “Are you good, Carmy? You’re right, sweets. You caught me. I’m a lil’ off today. What gave me away?”

“Right, yes— You’re nice.” He’s saying it more to himself than you, like he needs to remind himself. Even so, it still hitches your heartbeat. “I— I’m good, I was just—You didn’t text me back this morning.”

“Oh.” You say it so breathlessly, with relief. It’s cute that that’s what’s got him freaking. “Sorry, yeah, I’ve been trying to not look at my phone, I just got some…” You shake your hand in the air for effect. “Bleh news. Put a wrench in some things for me, that’s all.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Ah—” You shake your head, waving it off, “Too much to get into. Later, though?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whenever you want.” He nods. “Ah, I wanna get into uhm—” Carmen snaps his fingers a few times, finding the words. “Get into drinks, today. I made all the concentrates and syrups ahead of time—But Uncles gonna come in first with The Computer to go over some numbers shit— Should be here in thirty?”

You nod, squinting. “Is it like… A special computer or something?”

“Computer is a guy.” Carmen says, while Syd yells the same in tandem with him, “Why wouldn’t he be!?” Walking past you both as she carries produce out of the walk-in.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” You grin, reiterating. Your smile soon sobers though, as you finally notice a giant silver blob of machinery behind Carmen. “Baby, what the fuck is that?”

You’re already walking past him, quickly winding up all over again. It’s a gorgeous espresso machine— “It’s an Ascaso.” Explains Carmen. “It’s the best.” And it’s sitting exactly where your beautiful beat up mistake of a heavily-stained coffee machine used to be.

“Baby, baby, baby—” you’re looking above and below the station for your rusted companion, hushed and panicked. “Don’t tell me you threw away the old one—”

“You want the old one?”

Richie’s timing is perfect, as he walks in from front of house, and even from just hearing the last sentence, “Fuckin’ told you, Carm.” He knows the context. He keeps walking— On a mission, seemingly.

“I’m grateful— I- I am.” You kneel down and shove some mixing bowls aside to see if it was tucked in the back of some shelf— It’s not here. She’s not here. “New is good— New is nice— I’ll learn how to use the new one— I will— But— I— I need the old one— You didn’t throw it away, did you?”

When he stays silent, you turn and look up to Carmen from where you’re crouched on the ground, pleading. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I— I—” The Chef is nearly sweating from this line of questioning alone. “It— It barely worked—”

“I know it didn’t! That’s the point!”

He blinks. You just seem to be saying all his trigger phrases, today, huh? “That’s the point?”

“I knew how she worked.” You push yourself back up onto your feet. “It’s got an espresso function that doesn’t work, if you tamp the basket the basket literally breaks off so you have to hold it and burn your hand a little— You have to hold the hot water button at the same time as the grind button for some reason or it won’t dispense— It’s literally a fucking nightmare— I covered it in like ten sticky notes of instructions at one point and they became pointless because no one but me was willing to use it. And— And I’ve got it memorized.”

“...And you want that?”

“No one’s gonna know how to take care of her, she’s my baby!” You gesture, albeit a bit too dramatically, speaking with your hands. “If you throw her away or donate her, no one’s gonna take the time to figure it out— They’re just gonna think she’s broken but she’s not, she works! She just needs the right hand!”

A dull silence falls between you, as Carmen purses his lips, squinting. There’s an ever slight chance your ‘I’m totally fine’ facade is cracking. “...Are you sure you don’t want to talk about your thing right—”

“I’m good!” “...Okay.” “Did you get rid of her?”

“Relax, Handy!” Carmen does not say this.

You grimace, looking behind Carmen to see Chi-Chi yelling from around the bend, in The Beef’s corner territory. Looking over him with the blue apron calling you your least favourite nickname by far— Well, second least favourite, only to— “She’s over here, Jack-Off. More our speed than rich boy’s ack - queso bullshit…” It’s nostalgic. Bad nostalgic but nostalgic.

He slaps the top of the machine, you and Carmen both wince as a random spigot falls off it. Chi-Chi clicks his tongue, staring at it in silence. “...Refresher would be good, though.”

You’re already walking back to your damaged darling, patting Carmen on the shoulder as a form of goodbye, he pats your hand back. You don’t get to see him smile, as he watches you get to work. “Don’t fuckin’ call me Jack-Off and don’t touch her, I’ll show you, I’ll break your hand Cheech, I swear—”

The man in question shrugs, a devilish and terrible smirk on his stupid face. “Ey, love a woman in charge. Show me the ways.”

Even on your most off days, working with The Beef will always be second nature for you. Even when the space is significantly more cramped than it used to be.

You rewrite directions on how to use the coffee machine while showing them to Ebra and Chi-Chi. Ebra tends not to learn new tricks, so he stops listening by the time you get to syrups. That’s fine. No one ordered syrups in their coffee at The Beef back in the day all that often either.

Mikey really shouldn’t have invested in all those syrups back then. He really only did it for you and the staff. To be fair, when he did convince regulars to try your coffee they always changed their tune. The people don’t know what they like yet. They will like this. You were his proof that that idea was true.

“You gotta toss these, Boss. Slows you down.” You overhear Cheech saying behind you. You turn to see his arm on Ebra’s shoulder, holding the small blue baskets for sandwiches in his other hand. “Just the wrapping is fine. These people are gonna throw this shit out anyways, waste of plastic.”

Cheech turns his head to you, “Right, Handy?”

“...Don’t call me Handy.” Don’t freak out about throwing the old stuff away. Don’t freak out about throwing his old stuff away. You shrug, looking at Ebra over your shoulder. “Maybe just offer them, if they ask for one?”

“Y’know what the people are asking for, babe?” Cheech sucks his teeth, pulling Ebra closer, who looks nonplussed. “They’re asking where the nearest brick is to throw through our window. This rich people shit is getting on their nerves.”

You sigh, eyes flitting to Ebra for confirmation. “Yeah?”

He shrugs, nodding. “Ninety-eight percent, Jack-Off.” Cheech and the gang have been a terrible influence. How are you going to undo this?

“C’mon, E…” You scoff, but nod as you turn around, arms crossed. Gesturing with the frother as you do. “Well, I’ll make note of that. Now back to the fuckin’ hand frother, Cheech?”

“I know how to crank it, Handy—” “I swear to fucking God—”

“Ey!” Tina comes up to your corner, smacking the back of Chi-Chi’s head with a hand towel when she does. “Don’t talk to the baby like that, clean your mouth.”

He puts one hand on the back of his head, hissing, and another up in front of him, in defense. “Ey, T, it’s all love, aright? Playing!”

“Yeah well, you’re not gonna wanna play wit’ this one. ‘Specially not now—” She nudges you, smiling that coy ‘I’m about to blow up your spot’ smile.

You grimace, attempting to interrupt her. “T, don’t—” “That she’s Jeff’s.” “—Goddamnit.”

“Oh! Oh shit!” Cheech laughs, delightfully shocked. “You finally closed on Charmin’? Congrats—” It’s a blessing and a curse that Carmen, the guy you only ever saw in photos and heard in stories that you had a very minor and not vocal crush on, is now your… boyfriend? Undetermined.

You wave a hand in his face, “Shut the fuck up—”

“So where should I send flowers?”

You hate this family. “For the record, I have not closed shit.”

“What’s closing?” Tina takes a half step back, surveying your face, it doesn’t reveal anything. “What’s that? Gramps?” She turns her question on Ebra, who shrugs, equally as old and unknowing.

“Well Jack-Off’s a little Mother Mary for my taste—”

You scoff, “So not true, for the record—” but Chi-Chi continues his tirade. “So I suspect she just means they haven't had the ‘are we datey-wating carmy baby?’ talk.”

You all but growl, crossing your arms as you wait for the second tutorial coffee to finish dispensing from the beloved whirring machine behind you. You can get the fuck out of here as soon as it’s done, and you’re praying that’s soon, because this interrogation is about to turn terrible. “We are currently unlabelled, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

Tina kisses her teeth, poking at your shoulder. “Richie told me you spent the whole wedding together and you come back with no label?”

You sigh, composure falling apart. You are not ready for a mother’s disappointment. “We talked out a lot of important stuff—” “Mija, that is important stuff!”

“I just— We’ll talk eventually—”

Chi-Chi conveniently interrupts you when it looks like Tina’s about to go off into a full rant on the downfall of romance in modern relationships. “So you’re still on the market, Handy?”

“For you?” You smile, then drop it. Pushing your hand against his forehead. “Never. Now froth the fucking milk.”

He mumbles an endless series of expletives, but gets to work. You give him a quick tutorial on the hand frother— You fought hard for the old machine, but you are overjoyed to see an automated steamer and frother on that Ascaso. That part is gonna be a dream. You can make so many new drinks for Carm— The menu.

When you finish, you take the latte from Cheech to hand to Tina; and when you do, you catch her looking… off. She’s staring at the piled up diner baskets, next to the unused napkin dispensers.

You put your hand on her shoulder, massaging it lightly. “You good, T?”

Your hand shocks her back into reality, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good, baby.” It takes her a second to remember where she is. She takes the latte, nodding. “I’m good. You good?”

“I’ve got my complaints.” You shrug. “But nothing I won’t survive.” Probably.

Tina takes a sip of her coffee, continuing to nod. She wants to dig deeper into your thing, you want to dig deeper into hers, but the painful groaning from the front of the kitchen, “And when did I fuckin’ greenlight this?” interrupts both your trains of thought. Uncle Jimmy tends to have that effect.

With a knowing nod, you walk together to the front, leaving Ebra and Cheech to continue experimenting with the coffee machine before they open their side of the restaurant.

You watch from the sidelines as Carmen defends his choices, “The old one was shit, she was burning her hands on it. She’ll need the three groups to keep up.” and you’re able to quickly glean they’re talking about the new espresso machine.

“Okay, I hear that,” Jimmy nods, “but why the fuck did it need to be ten grand?”

“Ten?!” You can’t help but shout, you slap your hand over your mouth. Budget is none of your business. But fucking ten? You part your fingers to mumble through your hand, “Sorry, continue.”

Carmen cares too much about your drink menu. Berzattos tend to invest too much into your special interests. Though this time, instead of syrups, and in addition to a 10k coffee machine, you see on the stainless steel table your shared sketches laid out alongside all the ingredients needed– Including the concentrates, whips, and other compounds Carmen made ahead of time for you. He’s so sweet. God, you love him. God, that’s disgusting. They have all, of course, been haphazardly shoved aside though, to make room for The Computer’s— Computer. Carmy’s nonplussed by that fact, it seems.

Jimmy gestures to you, deadpanning to Carm. “See, Chip understands the power of the dollar.”

“I’m not involved.” You add, waving your hand, it’s a terrible moment for your favouritism to shine through. Though you do enter the radius of this trainwreck of a quarterly review, kneeling down by the kitchen island to finish what you started with the plexiglass and hinges. “Ignore me, continue.”

The men stand on either side of you, as you bolt down the hinges. Carmen brushes off the dollar comment with a simple, “It’s the best.”

Why do you need the best? You think; Jimmy concurs with your brain, speaking for both of you. “Why do you need the best?”

The question seems to make no sense to Carmen. He freezes, blue-screening. “Cause—”

You duck your head under the counter at just the right moment— Or just the wrong moment? Because you don’t get to see Carmen looking down at you, then back up at his uncle. “Because.”

You don’t see Uncle Jimmy practically roll not just his eyes but his entire body back into himself, witnessing the puppy love that is going to ruin his credit score. “Chip…”

When you slide yourself out from under the counter, Carmen puts his hand on the edge of the counter to make sure you don’t hit your head— Because you have an awful tendency to do so. You’re too focused on the way Uncle Jimmy says your name like you’re in trouble to notice though. “What’d I do?”

“You’re you.” Jimmy grimaces, shaking his head. It’s not your fault. Not completely. “F-Y-I– Your boss just cut your bar budget by ten grand.”

“Hm.” You squint, lips in a line. “And what do I do if the budget I was planning was just ten grand?”

“Well respect yourself more than that.” Cicero scoffs, arms crossed. “Take twenty, now you’re back to ten. You’re welcome.”

“Generosity knows no bounds.” You shake your head, laughing him off as you duck your head back under the counter. “Thank you, Unc.”

“Sorry, who exactly are we giving twenty thousand?”

“Oh fuck—” Despite Carmen’s best efforts, you still manage to bump your head on the roof of the counter, alarmed by the new voice— The Computer, you assume. “Fuckin—Ow— Sorry! Y’know what, hol’ on, let me just finish up here—”

“It’s the drink budget. Tony’s the new mixologist.” Natalie answers for you. “And sommelier.”

“Ah,” hums The Computer. “She’s the one we’re paying Quarter-Master for?”

“Nah, that’s me.” Gary strolls by, calling out to wherever his manager has gone, “Richie, you find that book yet?!”

“I’m taking them too!” You finally pop your head out from underneath the counter, finished bolting in the hinges. “Apparently I need actual W-S-E-T certification and a bunch of memorized google searches, youtube videos, and wine review blogs do not legally make you a sommelier.”

“I think it’s impressive you made it this far on basically nothing.” Syd taps the top of your head, she’s the one who made the call on schooling. She looks to her co-owner. “Classes are coming out of the advanced.”

“So is this.” You tap the plexiglass, nodding up to Carmen as well. “You’re workin’ with like… A thousand left for pre-paid work?”

“Hm.” Carmen nods, looking at The Computer, and you turn your head to him too. “Did you account for that?”

“Did I account for a thousand dollars?”

Carmen shakes his head like a white flag immediately, hearing the sarcastic tone, “Alright, you don’t—”

“A thousand dollars does not take you out of the hole, man.” He’s right, but you don’t love the tone. He tilts his head, reading something off his screen. “Payroll is a little high, for a somme.”

“I don’t disagree—” You try to say, because yeah, your contract does have a weirdly high salary.

But Jimmy, Nat, and Carm all speak over you. “It’s not.”

“That’s not pay for a somme, that’s a pay for Chip, you don’t need to enhance on that.” Jimmy deads the topic then and there. “You’ll see. Just trust me. You were sayin’ somethin about tiny plants?”

“Microgreens.” Says Syd.

“Yes. Do less of that.”

And you just watch, from the sidelines, as this crew flows into a bit of a repetitive we’re doing this, which gains the response, well stop. Do less, charge more, figure it out, duh, don’t duh– What’s that you’re hearing about a daily changing menu? Carmen seems to be the only one campaigning for it. At a point he just starts pacing, pointing at numbers on The Computer’s screen that he doesn’t understand but pretends he does.

You’ve got a million ideas, but it’s none of your business. It very literally isn’t your business, until Jimmy turns his head just so, grimacing at the non stop debate, to see you standing aside, arms crossed.

He sighs, beckoning you to the table, like it’s a witness stand. “What’s that fuckin’ face on your face, kid?” Oh, for the love of God, why are you so easy to read?

You pfft, shrugging. “I’m not makin’ a face—!” But you come forward nonetheless as he boldly speaks over you.

“You’re makin’ a face,” — “This is just what I look like,” — “Y’know how I know you’re makin’ a face?” — “Enlighten me.” — “Cause it’s the same fuckin’ face—”

He takes this moment to point at the face on your face. “That your dad makes.” A man that gambles as well as Cicero is a man that knows your dad’s tells. And a man that knows your dad’s tells is a man that knows your tells.

You bite down on your inner cheek, poorly pretending to be confused, shrugging again, “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Come off it.” “I’m not on anything, Unc—” “You’ve got a problem, say it.”

“I don’t have a problem!” You have a lot of problems, but they can’t know that. That makes you judgy and pushy— You don’t know enough about the business to have an opinion. “I’m just observing, that’s all.”

Uncle looks up, to Heaven, to Mikey, and sighs the world’s heaviest sigh. It sounds painful. When he finally tilts his head back down to you, it’s to say, “C-K.”

“Cicero.”

“Y’know why I’m able to pour mas queso into this fuckin’ kid?” He loosely gestures in the direction of Carmen, who in response seems to bite down a lot of venom. It’s bad to think he’s pretty when he’s annoyed, isn’t it?

You tilt your head, “Honestly, I always assumed some sort of mob association.”

Jimmy holds back his laughter, it comes out as a disgruntled cough. He shrugs. “It’s because when I saw your dad at the table, makin’” —He gestures to you— “That fuckin’ face, I knew to pull back.”

“You don’t need to pull back.” Your reply is a touch too panicked and instant for anyone’s liking, makes it a little less believable. But Cicero smirks, and you know that face as well as he knows yours. Check. He’s got you.

“Then speak on it.” And he pushes you forward, just slightly, like a slap of support on your back. You grimace, looking to Carm and Syd for permission to have opinions, and they both nod, like it’s obvious. With great hesitation, lips pressed together, you finally allow yourself to come off as judgy, opinionated, a fixer.

“I think the chargers are kinda stupid.”

A plate no one eats off of, that they still have to clean, that’s on top of another plate? Definitely super necessary. Definitely not some rich people NOMA bullshit.

You look to Syd, apologetic. She shrugs, open mouthed, head tilted, “I– I mean, I didn’t invent them.”

“It’s presentation.” Carmen nods, to himself. He doesn’t like to budge. “That first look at the table affects everything.”

“Yes.” You nod, directly across the counter from him. “I agree, I just think the plates are stupid.”

“You got somethin’ better?”

“Think so.” You hum, tilting your body back to yell to the back of the restaurant. “Ay, Cheech! Pass me a fuckin’ basket!”

It’s without hesitation that you hear, “Hut!” before even seeing the man. You see the blue basket being hurled towards you before you see the man. You catch it, albeit a bit clumsy, but you catch it.

You toss the basket on the table. Everyone stares. You defend yourself before anyone even criticizes it, “Easier to clean than plates, because you just need to rinse the plastic. Ties together a colour scheme, costs nothing, they’re gonna be tossed anyways.”

“It looks cheap.” Carmen tuts, but he really does seem to be trying to hear out the idea, despite his reservations.

“It looks purposeful.” You double down, leaning on the counter just so, “It carries a story, that we didn’t forget where we started.”

“Ooh.” Marcus, clocking in just in time, hums behind you. “Kind of a bar, Chef.”

“Thank you, Chef. Morning, Chef.” You fist bump him over your shoulder, not looking. Too focused on convincing the man before you, you let him think in silence for some time before asking. “Think on it?”

“No.” Carmen shakes his head, and you’re a little crestfallen, for a second. “It’s good. Let’s do the baskets, yeah—” He then remembers to ask for permission, he turns his head to Syd, “Yeah?”

“Yeah? Oh, uh. Yeah. Yeah. Baskets are good.” Syd nods to Nat. “Can you look into, uh—”

“Returning the expensive as fuck earthenware shit? Happily.” Nat is far too cheery upon receiving a paperwork rabbit hole of a mission. She brushes past you, excitedly whispering, “Please keep going.”

“Oh, uh—” Are you some sort of thought leader now? “Well, uhm, I think I heard you sayin’” —You snap your fingers at The Computer, “That R and D cost is a little high?”

“A lot high.” He corrects.

“Kid with crayons.” Jimmy tuts, “Need to pull back a little.”

Carmen’s screwing and unscrewing the cap of a mason jar— Marmalade, it’s for Syd’s drink. He made it this morning, it’s labelled down to the minute. Just let him work on his fucking drinks menu, please God. He’s been dying for this moment and it’s being thrown off by this bullshit.

He can’t keep biting his tongue, “Hey, uh, why don’t you just tell us to do everything a little bit less so we can skip this and get back to work, huh?”

You hear Uncle Jimmy inhale as preparation to verbally beat Carmen’s ass. You put one hand up in front of the old man’s face, the other hand grabs a dry-erase marker. “He didn’t mean it like that and he apologizes, Unc.”

“Does he now?”

“He does.” You drop your hand, focusing on lifting the glass panel, clicking the locks in place to keep it up. You nod to Carmen through the pane. “Right, Carmy?”

Poor Carmen nearly deflates, “...I’m tryna be the guy.”

“Not what the guy does, baby boy.” You hum, uncapping the marker with your teeth. You turn your head to Cicero. “Guy had a lapse, he forgot you were his boss and just thought of you as family, so he spoke to you like family, cause he loves you, Unc.”

Cicero nods, tilting his head just so at Carmen. “S’that right?”

Carm manages to shake his head and nod all at the same time, “S’a facet.”

“....Well, just don’t do it again.” A crisis is averted and an uncle is softened.

“I love to see a family come together.” You hum, nonchalant, writing on the glass, ‘R & D - Cost: Bad’

“Bring it from bad to good.” The Computer notes very helpfully. “You can cut—”

“Hol’ on.” You put your index finger up, effectively shushing him, “Just think about it first. We don’t have to go straight to cutting. Let’s look at our options.”

“Your options are fucked.”

“Just—” You tut, rubbing the bridge of your nose, man, you really are becoming your dad right now. Loosen your grip, Jack. “Widen the scope. We cut costs through returning those chargers— How else can we ‘return’ shit? Carmy?”

Thank God you’re the guy, because Carm can’t hack it. “Heard? Yes?” And frankly, he doesn’t want to.

“What’s the main cost on R and D?”

“Supplies. Food— Y’know, lot of trial and error.” He nods to a bus tub filled with failed attempts over this morning’s session. But you like that, right? “Trying new things, y’know?”

“...Carmen.” He doesn’t answer, because he can hear he’s in trouble. He is staring at you stare at the tub in what seems like a sort of contemplative, serene, searing anger. “Sweetheart, are those four wagyu filets in a fuckin’ bus tub?”

“Yes, it’s got a blood orange reduction, but– But Syd suggested mint—”

You don’t let him finish, “Is it poison?”

“It’s not.” “It’s edible?” “It is.” “Okay, so then, babydoll, why is it not being eaten?”

Syd winces from the sidelines, hissing under her breath, fist over her mouth. Carmen cannot help but notice. You’re perhaps… a dash upset.

“We can’t eat everything.” “Did you offer it to the crew?” “Yeah—” “You offered it to Nat, Unc, Cheech— All the servers? Or did you just offer it to the cooks?” “...Heard.” “Did you take a bite of all of these?” “Not all.”

You start writing on the glass again, explaining as you do, “Okay. So then uneaten food from R and D should be sold on one of those fuckin’ food waste apps— Too Good to Go, or somethin’. We advertise it to The Beef regulars, try to get the other side of our city to understand the finer things, prevent any brick through window incidents, how we feel ‘bout that?”

You remember small things far too well. You did make note of the rich people shit getting on The Beef customers' nerves. You make note of the people who live on your block, who cannot afford to eat here. You make note of the fact that Carmen resents subtracting with a passion now, so you find another way. He can still try new things, just needs to handle the results better.

“...You keep a binder or somethin?” Is all Carmen can think to ask.

“Steel trap memory.” You tap the cap of the marker to your head, “Good though?”

He nods, “Good.”

“Good.” You take a breath, dragging a hand down your face, practically coming out of a fugue state. Carmen knows your need to have something to do, just as much as him, so he slides the jar of fig marmalade to you from across the table. You take it happily, unscrewing the lid. You’ve also been dying to get to this menu.

But Richie comes up from behind, scratch and sniff wine book in hand— Didn’t Mikey get you that? It was meant to be a gag gift but it’s actually quite useful. “Chip, can you also tell Chef Carmen the daily menu fuckin’ sucks?”

“Re-lax.” You sigh, pulling over all the ingredients and tools you need for Syd’s drink. “Syd told me ‘bout this though, daily pre fixe, or whatever it’s called?”

“It’s—” Carmen crosses his arms over himself, immediately defensive but trying his best not to be. “It’s an idea I’m floating, for now— It’s what the best restaurants do, and— And even if we don’t have full intent on getting a star, right now, it’s still important.”

“I just think…” You hum, trying to figure out the most delicate way to say it. “It doesn’t exactly give you the most room to collaborate or create—”

“The whole point of it is to collaborate and create—”

“Oh yes,” —As if waiting in the wings for this, Richie pops out behind you again, “What wasssit? ‘Vibrant Collaboration’ and ‘Constantly Evolve Through Eating My Own Head like a fucking ouroboros’.”

“Relax.” You hiss this time, putting a hand up in front of Richie. You can speak for yourself. “You don’t have time to be creative or collaborate when you’ve gotta make decisions in less than twelve hours.”

Carmen tries to defend, he gestures to the one good plate of wagyu with mint that came out of this morning, “But the—”

You nod and hum, knowingly. The sweet sound stops him. You already know the answer, but you ask anyway, as you scoop fig marmalade into your cocktail shaker. “Did you get to try the pop rocks thing yet?”

“Well, no, it’s not viable to perfect that in such—”

“A short amount of time, angel?”

“Oooh…” Richie mimics Syd’s movements, air whistling between his teeth as he takes a sharp breath. He gestures, standing behind you, staring at Carmen as he slides his thumb across his neck. He mouths, ‘Mad mad.’

Carmen’s two closest friends are freaking him the fuck out and one of them wasn’t even doing it on purpose. How do they know that? How can they tell that? Are you gonna break up with him? Are you even dating? This work together thing was a terrible idea—

“You don’t have time to be thoughtful about things, if you do an entire menu every day, you’re gonna have to cut corners on what you’re willing to experiment with.” You reword, more productive, better for his brain. “Plus, prix fixe is a fuckin— In—In my opinion, is sort of a lacking idea, maybe, for a new restaurant.”

Carmen’s willing to give up the daily rotation, he’s not so willing to give up the pre fixe. “It’s what the best restaurants do.” Carmen loves the word best, huh?

“Have those restaurants—” You bite your tongue from what was going to be an immediate catty response.

You try again, measuring out orange liqueur and lemon juice as you do so. “You’re thinking like a Chef and you need to think like a customer— A- A guest, for a second.”

Carmen gives you the floor, mostly because he cannot compute the command. You continue, “Let’s do a little roleplay, alright? Let’s say we’re just average people, not workin’ at The Bear, and we’re goin’ on a date.”

“When?” “...When?” “When is the date?” “No, I’m— It’s— This is hypothetical.” “Yeah but in the hypothetical.”

You shrug, clicking tongs together as you grab large chunks of ice for your shaker. “I dunno, Friday nights? We have like a Friday night date night.”

“Oh, so you’re doing good.” Richie hums, proud of this hypothetical you, “Weekly date night is a cornerstone.”

“Moving on.” You elbow Rich behind you, shaker sloshing in hand, “I’m not a foodie, you are— In this hypothetical. You’re looking around at restaurants in the area for the date, you find The Bear— You find through their website with an improper hyperlink that the menu is,” —You list off on your free hand— “prix fixe, unavailable online, and changes daily so you can’t go off of reviews either. Also, it’s a new place, so you can’t really ask around for opinions.”

“Right.” Carmen nods, as does Syd. Uncle Jimmy’s got that stupid smirk he gets when he sees his kids fall in line. You pour the ouzo over the ice, focus on the drink, not Carm’s mopey expression.

“So, we probably wouldn’t go, right?”

Carmen keeps nodding, eyes downcast— Not upset, just can’t take feedback without keeping his head down. “Prob’ly not, yeah.”

You pound the shaker shut, shaking it lightly in one hand as you try as hard as you can to sweetly explain. “People are open to like, two surprises on an outing. New place, new food— But they will need a set menu and they will need to have it available beforehand— And they’ll need to be able to choose.”

He looks like a cat in the rain, so you add, “But. Maybe we can do a daily special? Or weekly, depending on burnout, but like, y’know, a semi-frequent one new thing. And maybe on like, Valentines or some holidays we do a fresh prix fixe. That’s how some of the best places do it.”

Carmen’s eyes upturn, smiling with them, at that last part. “You do keep a binder.”

“Syd does. I just pay attention.” You shake your head. “She mumbled about it all night when we got back.”

Adamu is immediately aghast, she should’ve realized ages ago, you were practically quoting her. “You said you couldn’t hear me!”

“No, I said you weren’t bothering me, and you weren’t.” You can’t hide your smile as you break the seal on the shaker. Syd sucks at sharing her ideas, but you’re happy to act as a good mouth for her good brain. “Hand me a lowball.”

With a grumble, Syd walks off in search of the lowball; while everyone does seem to agree this is best practice, Carmen does still seem a little sore about it.

“It’d probably also serve us well to do a seasonally rotating menu, right?” And so you throw him a bone. “Like Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall? Base it on what’s in season with local vendors?”

“What grows together goes together.” Tina says, nearly sing-songy. “Farmer’s market is rough though, Jeff.”

“Fuck a farmer’s market— With love, fuck a farmer’s market.” Back to writing on plexiglass you go. “We gotta do vendors, maybe f’ like, eggs and dairy we can do farmer’s market, but it’s just not feasible. Maybe for holiday pre fixe or daily specials? But full stock, it’s just not— It’s not it. And I say that while having farm fresh eggs and local honey in my pantry, alright?”

Carmen agrees, like a bobble-head this guy. He nods to Tina. “That cool with you, T?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s cool with me.” Tina is a millisecond off to pipe in, which is really not noticeable– To anyone but you, that is.

“Why’s— Why would T not be good with that?”

“She’s in charge of farmer’s market.”

“Hm.” You bite the end of the dry-erase marker. “T, would you be cool with rotating that, now and again?”

“Ooh?” She tilts her head, shrugging, “Yeah, yeah, kid. If you wanna take the reins.”

“Not me.” You return to scribbling on the glass board. You point at Carmen and Syd through the glass. “Them.”

“I’ve paid my sous chef dues.” Says Syd, returning to the table with your glass. You tut, shaking your head. You refocus your vision from your writing to beyond the plexiglass, at them.

“You need it for inspiration! You fuckers keep forgetting you like cooking, I need you to visit the farmer’s market once in a while to remind you.” You take the lowball glass and tong a few ice cubes in. “Non-negotiable. Heard?”

A soft, simultaneous, “Heard, Chef.” from your cats.

“Good.” You strain the mixed concoction out of the shaker, into the lowball glass. It’s a very pretty peachy pink. You tweezer a slice of dried fig and place it on top. You grab a toothpick, stick it down the glass, pull it out, and taste the toothpick. Balanced, solid flavour, should be good.

You slide the drink over to Syd. “I can’t drink everything obviously, so first dibs goes to whoever the drink is based on— I don’t care who drinks it, just let me know if it goes down smooth.”

You also in turn hand Syd the recipe card and sketch, and you’re quick to move on as she reviews and sips away.

Ouzo. Dry anise tasting spirit. It’s got a licorice aftertaste, but oddly sweeter for it. It’s strong. Resilient. It’s made from remnants of unfermented wine grapes and a mix of other distilled and unused spirits. Better than the sum of its parts. It goes well with figs. Muddle it together with fig marmalade— Sweet yet earthy, spring-like. Orange liqueur to marry the flavours, lemon juice to brighten. Shaken, pour over ice into a lowball, serve with a dried fig on top.

Syd manages to reserve her reaction to a slow but repetitive nod, like entering deep space. She only comes back to reality when Richie reaches for the drink, wanting to try. She’s quick to pull it away from him, coveting the glass.

“Ah… what else? Rapid fire.” You knock your head around, remembering what The Computer talked about, and in quick succession, you line up every problem and talk through them, possibly solve them— As best as a newbie can. At the very least, you open the floor to actual discussions as you make drinks all the while.

“Opening a full sixth day I think will shoot us in the long run, especially if we ever get a kitchen plague going. Maybe we just open for half the day on Mondays going forward, try out breakfast? Stop booing me, I’m right.”

Richie’s. Also served over ice in a lowball. It’s similar to a whiskey smash. Nixing the mint. Whiskey bourbon— A good one, but not too good that it’s a sin to mix. Something with a cinnamon spice, that's warm all the way down, but never burns. Water it down a bit by stirring peach juice over the whiskey with ice for a brief moment. Float blueberry syrup on top. Add a toothpick, spearing two blueberries and one peach halve, balance it over the glass, for stirring. So the drinker can mix the blueberry syrup in and have a cute colour changing experience.

“Wine pours, me and Gary got that. We can also just start charging by the bottle by default— Whatever works.”

Marcus’. Simple but effective. A rum and coke ice cream float. Made complex by the fact that the ice cream is on a rotating schedule, based on whatever Chef Brooks is feeling that night and what’s in stock. Right now? Pistachio. So tonight it’s actually rum and seltzer, and it will probably continue to be rum and seltzer, based on the way Marcus’ eyes light up by the opportunity to get weird. More often than not, you’re going to need that neutral base. Served in a milkshake glass, because what else?

“I don’t understand why I couldn’t just grow these microgreens myself in house. They’re just plants you murder early, are they not? Am I missing something?”

Tina’s. Varied take on a spiked agua fresca. Fresh blended mango agua fresca— With ginger, of course. A healthy kick is a necessity for a mom drink. Sweetened with simple syrup, spiked with white rum, dash of agave bitters, top with coconut water. Served in a tall glass, because why would you skimp on portions?

“Why are we shipping flowers from New York? No, fuck that, go to Violet’s Violets— I fixed her cooler once, she falls in love and gives a discount to literally anyone who’s nice to her. Just send Marcus with some dessert and you’ll be set for life.”

And of course, Carmen’s aperol spritz. You go with the cherry syrup rim for now because it’s important to try. You’re almost certain it’s too much though.

“Napkins…” You rub your icy cold hands— From shaking up so many goddamn drinks— Over your eyes. “Why are we renting?”

“Buying is insanely overpriced.” Answers Computer.

You nod, shrug, but nod, fingers tapping the glass, “Well, it’s like renting over owning right? It might be better to own because, y’know, you might suddenly get told by your napkin vendor, like, like years down the line, after basically paying for these napkins in full through rent, ‘hey, actually, we’re gonna jack up prices or just take those napkins back’ even though you’ve —again— Literally had them for years—”

“Chippy, are you good?” Richie tries to massage your shoulder, tries to break you out of the doom spiral, but admittedly, it was never his forte. Still isn’t.

“We—!” Your voice hangs and is grating in a way it usually isn’t, ignoring the question. “We can produce our own napkins if we buy linens by the yard and hem ‘em ourselves. We—” You snap your fingers a couple times at Carmen, praying he backs you up. “We can even get The Bear monogrammed on them.”

“That sounds nice…” It’s Carmen’s turn to ease you off the ledge of insanity, gently. “It also sounds expensive, were you gonna do that?”

“Fuck no.” You’re quick to shake your head. “I fucking suck at sewing, my own jumpsuit is covered in my blood— No, my—” Oh. “Hold on.”

Your hand immediately goes for your back pocket, quickly pulling your cell-phone out, and dial one of your first starred contacts. Richie, over your shoulder still, sipping his blueberry and bourbon cocktail, excitedly mumbles. “Oh, put it on speaker.”

You’re annoyed before he’s even answered, knowing the headache you’re about to get. “Trust me, the first thirty seconds minimum will not need—”

“Hey!” It’s impossible to convey how earth shatteringly loud and drawn out his voice is, immediately upon answering. There may be eight seconds of the sustained vowel? Maybe more. Almost everyone flinches, par for Syd, Carm, and Rich. Though for all different reasons.

A touch grating, in the same way your voice just was. Like father, like occasional daughter, you suppose. “Hey kiddo baby darling sweetheart angel princess—” Oh, he’s mad. The whole ‘slew of nicknames when you’re pissed off’ thing? Yeah, that didn’t start with you. “Did someone die? Because that’s the only reason my darling baby only daughter calls anymore!”

You sigh, immediately exhausted, putting your weight on one leg. “Y’know, once a month is honestly a lot of times a year for a fully grown woman to call their dad, on average. I absolutely call you more than my friends call their dads.”

Richie almost chokes and whispers over your shoulder, hesitant, internally preparing for a dreadful future. “Please tell me that’s not true.”

“Oh, and you should be so lucky that you have a dad to call! Cause I bet those friends are calling funeral homes, aren’t they?!”

“Dad—”

“I should have never taught you independence. Worst mistake of my life to teach you how to be your own person. Richard, never teach your kid how to use a screwdriver, it will be the last day you are a father.”

“Noted, Big C-K.” Richie goes for your dry erase to actually write it down, you pull it away from him. That’s gonna require a long talk down later.

Carmen mouths to you, across the table, he meant to ask earlier when Cicero said it but there wasn’t time. ‘C-K?’

You mouth back, gesturing to the logo on your very own flannel ‘Chicago’s Kindest.’ He’s not the best with acronyms.

“Oh— And thank you for bringing that up! And what’s this I hear about you cutting your hours with C-K? I hear this from Tony of all people ‘fore I hear it from you?”

“I got a long-term bartender gig that’s actually gonna keep my bills paid, alright? And I like it. Putting that mixology double trade major to good use. Cicero’s got stock in the place, actually.”

“How you doin’ C-K?” Cicero pipes in next to you, waiting for his moment.

“Ah… I’ve got my complaints. For one, my Jack keeps you more company than me!”

There’s a series of hums and haws, that weird uncle secret language of heavy exhales that manage to say more than any actual words they could say.

You let the heaving run its course for ten seconds before cutting it short with, “Anyways, I’m still gonna keep the business running, just only in the mornings. It’s not like I brought in that much business anyway, I’m not pulling a foundation.”

“Everytime a small business dies, a rich man laughs, Jack!”

“It’s not dying! It’s alive! It’s present and alive!” Don’t get flashbacks. “Anyways, speaking of small businesses, I need a favour—”

“Ooh, the truth comes out, princess calls cause she needs bail—”

“For the love of God, let me get through a sentence, Pops!” You grumble, continuing. “Remember that overpriced monogram machine you bought for no reason?”

“It was not for no reason, it was invaluable because it saved my mitts from hand embroidering all those logos— And and— you have to remember—” You mouth the words along with him, mimicking him, because you know exactly what he’s going to say, “that it all starts in your community— And now you have like eight beautiful outfits, cause of me… And also it’s fun.”

“Well… If it’s fun, would you consider making some linen napkins?”

And it flows like ping pong, because your dad is a repairman— Well, former, but still. He’s simple. He handles negotiations simple. So do you.

“For who?” “Restaurant. The Bear.” “Why?” “Cause they need linen napkins.” “How many?”

You look over your shoulder to Richie, he does the math in his head pretty quickly, “Bout seventy to a hundred covers a night.”

“Six hundred.” “Pay?” “We’ll pay supplies, and I’ll give you like—” You look to Syd, expectantly. She has no answer, so you put your advanced on the line. “A thousand?”

“A thousand!? Less than a dollar a napkin! Is this pre-housing crisis?!” “I work here, okay?! Discount me!” “My God, princess, are you in love with the owner or something?”

That world feels like it's choking, but that's probably just you. You blow hot air out of your mouth, looking anywhere but Carmen. Refusing to see him even in your periphery. Refusing to see his blue screened but ever so slightly expectant expression. Well? Are you? …Or something?

After a long moment, you find a way to avoid the question. “Ah–Uh, Syd co-owns the place.”

“Oh, Adamu?!”

Syd pipes in, leaning over the table. You hold the phone out for her. “H–Hey, Mr. CK.” She waves, despite the fact that it’s a phone call.

“Hey kiddo. Aw, what a sweetheart. Lead with her next time!”

“Alright!” You bring the phone back to your face— It’s remained off speakerphone this entire time, but he continues to yell loud enough for the table. “I didn’t realize you were best friends.”

“Of course we are. Y’know she brought me this uh– this salmon mushroom risotto the other night? Unbelievable.”

You squint at Adamu curiously, whispering. “You bring my dad food?”

She whispers in return, defensive. “He lives on my block, don’t be weird.”

“For her, I’ll do it for eight-hundred, okay kiddo? I know how tough it is to start up a business, can’t imagine trying to move on top of that.”

Your turn to blue screen. Moving? You’re immediately over the love thing. “...Pardon?”

“...I’ll do it for eight—”

“No– Yes, sorry, yes dad that’s great—” You arch the phone away from your face, focusing your attention on Syd. “Syd, you’re moving out?”

She sighs, “Trying to.”

“Pops.” You straighten up, not looking away from her. “I’ll call you back to sort details later, okay?”

“Sure. You also need to let me know holiday plans, are we going up to Oak Park or—”

Somewhat disrespectfully, you speak hurriedly, “Yeah, we’ll figure it out, love you, bye!” and hang up. Still locked on Syd, you ask. “When you tryna move?”

“Like, soon as possible.” She stretches out her shoulders. “My own dad is sort of… Encroaching on my space.”

“Right.” Your eyes flicker with too many ideas, and you’re trying to temper expectations. “You wanna live by yourself?”

“I mean, I don’t really know anyone on the same timeline as me, with the same ‘low budget’ as me.”

The Computer attempts to interrupt the interruption of his review, holding a finger up, “And why are we talking about—”

But you hold the palm of your hand up, continuing on, “I need to move out asap and have a ‘low budget’.”

That’s Carmen’s queue to chime in, he loves your place. “What happened?”

Also Richie’s, “What? Chip, your spot’s like a historical site, ya can’t move.” and this is generally agreed upon by a sea of dismayed voices.

“To make an extremely long story short, I don’t have a choice.” You wave your hand in the air, silencing murmurs. “My sweet old lady landlord— The only landlord I’ve ever respected, got bought out by a fuckin’ big business gentrification ass company— I’m not in a rent controlled zone so they’re gonna keep jacking the rent until I move out so they can tear it down and build a new spot— They also may or may not have found out that me and Loretta— My landlord— Haven’t exactly been keeping up to date on my lease.”

“Meaning?” Carmen knows the answer will be bad.

But it’s somehow worse. “Meaning I pay my rent on time in cash and she texts me once a year saying ‘do you want to keep living here?’ and I say ‘yes’, and we continue on.”

“Well, hold up—” Richie holds a hand up, like he’s a genius. “Squatter’s rights?”

“I thought about going that avenue, but—” You gesture to Syd. “If you’re already moving, and looking for a roommate?”

She looks up and around, thinking about it. You decide to join her in the brainstorm, scooching yourself just an inch to the right, writing on free space on the plexiglass screen, ‘pros and cons’

“Pro.” You murmur as you write. “I have a better credit score than you.”

Syd sputters, half sarcastic. “Well, that’s just uncalled for.”

“It’ll give you more options for places! Better ones! Ones with in-unit laundry!” You defend.

“In-unit laundry…” “Your eyes just lit up in such a sad way.” “Con. You are an ass.”

“That’s a pro. A real con would be that I have a lot of plants and if I ever go on vacation I’m gonna need you to take care of them, and I’m not gonna have a binder for you, because I water them based on vibes, and if I come back and they’re dying I’m gonna be pissed off and very passive aggressive about it.”

“Violently honest.” “Pro. Mostly direct. Aside from when I’m not.” “Con. I’m not direct.”

“Con. That’s fine but if I get the idea that you’re mad at me I’m gonna act really weird about it until you reassure me that everything is okay and you don’t want to throw me out the window.”

“Yeah. Con. Same.”

“Pro. I’ve lived by myself for a while, which is good to have when you’re moving out of your parents for the first time. Con. I’ve lived by myself for a while, and I’m very used to the lifestyle of big t-shirt no pants, I’m not giving that up.”

Now that one takes Syd a second to unpack, “But, but like, underwear though, right—?”

“No shit I wear underwear!”

“Okay! It’s important to note!”

“Don’t be weird.” Richie grumbles behind you, solidly directed at Carmen.

Who’s whole face really just scrunches up in confusion. “‘Don’t be weird’? You don’t be weird.”

“I’m not bein’ fuckin’ weird—” “Then why are you up in my shit—” “Up in your shit? Oh wow—” “Fully not what I was referencing—” “Don’t be weird, cousin!” “I literally— I did not even move— Not a single cell in my body—” “And— And you only know that ‘cause you had to lock it down, you dog—”

“I don’t remember having kids, why the fuck am I in a Kindergarden?” Uncle Jimmy interrupts.

“I’m just takin’ care of my boy, Unc.” Richie raises a hand in defense, feigning innocence. “Can’t be too careful.”

“You super can, and you super are.” You grimace, elbowing him again. “And also, not important–!”

“Actually, no, very important.” Syd of all people interrupts. “Non-negotiable, like you can’t— …Like you— …When I’m home it’s like— Don’t—” Ah.

You roll your eyes and save her before she just about breaks out in a feverish sweat. “Syd, I wasn’t planning on it. That’s like roommate rule one.”

“Syd.” Richie points to his own eyes, then to hers, ‘watching you’. “Don’t be weird.”

“What the fuck—”

“Everyone shut up, pros and cons—!” You shout, gaining the attention back. “Pros. I have a car, we work at the same place, I have all the furniture for a living room already, you'd never have to wait for a landlord to fix something ever again, and I could probably do a bunch of D-I-Y renter friendly projects, if you wanted.”

“...Oh my god, a French-door pantry.” “I think I could swing that.” “Pros. You’ll never have to cook again. I guess that’s my only pro, actually.”

“Con. I have been feeding the cat on my fire escape for like a year and if I’m moving I am going to have to adopt her, so we’re gonna have a cat. She’s cute, she has five toes on each paw. Something dactyl, it’s called.”

“What’s her name?” Squid’s not excited per se, but she’s not saying no.

You shrug. “I never named her, let’s name her together.”

“No, that’s too much pressure—” “No, you’ll do great—” “What do you mean I’ll do great—?” “Three–” “Oh like together together? No! What—?!” “Shut up, just do it, head empty, two—” “No! I’m just not gonna say any—” “Yes you will, Squid. One!”

And together, perfectly in sync, like it was planned all along, you both say on queue, “Calamari!”

“There we go.” You write ‘Calamari’ on the plexiglass. “That’s my girl— That’s our girl, actually. I’m still not sure if she’s a girl.”

You click your tongue against your teeth, knocking your head back and forth in thought as you look at the scribblings on the glass. “Non-negotiables?”

Syd leans forward on the table, chin propped up in her hands. “I need forty-five minutes of bathroom time at the beginning of the day.”

“...Do you have a fuckin’ lactose intolerance?” “It’s my me time!” “Alright! Fuckin’ fifty minutes of toilet time for Syd. Ah, I need east facing windows… and uhm…”

Syd stares at you, and alas, she can tell, “You have a big non-negotiable…”

“It’s not that big… It’s more a group thing than a roommate thing, really…” “What is it?” “I think… It would be fun… If we all started playing Dungeons and Drag—”

There’s an immediate, staggeringly loud array of groans, you’re still writing it down nonetheless, all the while defending, “I honestly think a little roleplay and math would fix you assholes! I really think it would! I’ll D-M, I’ll make it so easy— Please?”

Syd grimaces, but inevitably nods. “Y’know what, you’re never gonna get a concrete schedule for that down, and no one else is gonna agree so yes, sure from me.” Still a win.

“Okay.” You hum, capping the marker. “So… Aim to move first of February? You down?”

It takes some time, and you realize as Syd’s brain frozen, that you might be overstepping. “Sorry, that’s going too fast, you think on it—”

“...I’m down.” You make it very easy for her to say yes, by giving her the option to say no. “Yeah, let’s do it. February. I’m down.”

“I’m so happy for you two, but I’m still fuckin’ reeling— Chippy, it’s– it’s— So many memories—” Richie’s being overly dramatic on purpose, hand on your shoulder, really laying on the vocal fry in his voice; but it is true. “I mean, come on, first time I’d ever been stabbed was on your block.”

“Sorry, what?” Carmen was having fun watching his two favourite employees figure out they’d be perfect roommates. He loves to be a fly on walls around you more than he’d like to admit. Richie managed to ruin it with one line. “Stabbed on your block?”

“Yeah,” You suck the air between your teeth, trying to think of some sort of white lie, but slowly shake your head, “I— Yeah, there’s no real way for me to down play it, I was so fuckin’ scared.”

“You were tweaking!” Richie laughs, clapping his hand against your shoulder, to him it’s a charming story— You’d probably be laughing too, if Carmen didn’t seem so… unpleased, let’s say. “You fuckin’ thought I was gonna die!”

“You fucking were!” You slap Rich’s hand away. “It was so close to a cerebral artery— First and last time I’ll administer stitches in my fucking kitchen, hand to God—”

“What’s the story?” Oh, new face from Carmen you haven’t seen before, bewildered annoyance, you’d describe it as, it’s going in your bottom five. “You live in a bad neighbourhood?”

“It’s rustic—” You try, but Richie opts to speak on your behalf. “Oh, Chip lives in a terrible neighbourhood, Cousin. You’ve been there, haven’t you?”

“Yeah but it didn’t seem that bad— No— Hold on, go back, stabbed why?”

“So I heroically defended a boy from crooked—” Richie tries, but you opt to speak on his behalf. “Richie was helping me bring up groceries, we saw some highschoolers shaking a kid down, Richie tried to break it up, one of ‘em stabbed him with one of those shitty switchblade comb things.”

“You got stabbed by a kid?” Syd snorts, but immediately regrets it because she has perfectly set him up for—

“Yeah, and wouldn’t be the last time, would it?”

“Richie, c’mon…” You reach up, patting the guy’s shoulder. “It was an accident and she apologized—”

Richie just raises his eyebrows, interrupting with a simple, “Mm-mm.”

And so yours raise in tow, “...Fuck you mean ‘mm-mm’?” And your head turns to Syd, alarmed. “Syd, you apologized, right?”

Her mouth just sort of hangs, sputtering noises do come out of it, but nothing that strings a sentence together. You grow more agog, repeating again, astonished, nearly laughing from the shock, “Syd?! You apologized, right?! And told him it was an accident, right?”

Syd takes a beat, but she gets there. “I— I. Am. Sorry I stabbed you by accident, Richie.”

“Hm.” Richie crosses his arms, considering, mostly sarcastically. “Yeah, I’ll take it, I guess. Would’ve liked a card.”

“I am not getting you a card.” “I’m jus’ sayin’ I’d’ve liked one.”

Carmen’s still five steps behind, “Are you gonna be fine living there? In January?”

You choke back a laugh, because this is how men try to show they care, one must imagine. “I’ve been fine for the past handful of years living there, I think I’ll be fine for another month, sweetheart.”

“Crime is bad in January.”

“I was a first responder, and I know that’s not true.” You shake your head, shirking off laughter. “It’s actually in the summer that you see shit go down. Again, I will be fine. But you are free to visit.”

“Point of order.” The Computer finally pipes up again— Might’ve forgot he was here, if you’re honest. “What are we talking about anymore?”

“Point of order— I feel like numbers— Talking numbers is great but it’s all just like— Paper, y’know?” You unlatch the plexiglass, gently settling it back down on the table. “We should be talking more.”

Tina nearly whistles in agreement, nodding by your side. “Heavy that, Jeff.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’, like—” You snap your fingers to the rest of the crew, hand moving to and fro to point at everyone, “Did y’all know until right now that Syd was moving? …No, right? Let’s like— Fuckin’ remember to check in, like y’know, family, Chefs.”

And without calling her out, you can feel Tina’s demeanor next to you change, relaxed.

“Heard, Chef.” Is the agreement from the crew, however, The Computer nor Cicero seem convinced, so with a sigh, you put on your most authoritative voice.

“Y’know. Three Cs! Caring cuts costs!” A phrase no one has ever said, but it sounds legitimate when you put it like that. That gets them to acquiesce.

Thank God, Marcus helps you move the conversation along, “...What’s everyone doing for the holidays?” Alas for both of you, the silence is deafening. “...Or not.”

You volley back for him, “If no one has hard plans I was thinking of having a lil’ Holiday party? Nothing big. Sort of a ‘goodbye old apartment’ party? Come by after you hang out with your families or whatever?”

“Not gonna go up to Oak Park?” Rich leans one arm on your shoulder, nursing his whiskey cocktail in the other.

“Meh.” You shrug, attempting to push him off you, but he doubles down. “We’re not so intense about holidays since everyone’s aged. I’ll visit my nephew on New Years.”

“I’m doin’ Eve with Eva, but I’ll be free on the day. I’ll come by. We doin’ gifts?”

“I mean I got you something, so,” You tap the bottom of his glass as Rich takes another sip, making him flinch. “Catch the fuck up.”

Syd pipes in, sniffing. “Me and my dad only celebrate on Christmas Eve now, so I’ll come.”

“Incredible. Two down.” You gesture to Marcus and Tina across the table. “You guys? Tina I assume you’ve got a loving family and shit?”

Tina smiles and nods, rightfully proud. “I do have a loving family and shit, but maybe I’ll come by late with them too?”

And Marcus tacks on with her, “I’m gonna be with my mom most of the night, but I’ll come through for a couple hours.”

“Perfect, perfect. Invites open to any plus ones as long as you text me first!” You hum, writing names down on the glass board. It’s kind of a nightmare of different lists at this point. “Richie, can you make sure Fak and Sweeps get the invite?”

“Yessir.”

“And us!?” Shrieks Cheech in the back, who really shouldn’t be able to hear you, he should be in the zone, slinging sandwiches.

You yell back without turning to him. “Yes, fucker, you and E can come, if you want! No fuckin’ plus one for you though!”

“Oh come the fuck on, Jack-Off!”

“Oh, make me a fuckin’ sandwich, big man!”

“Oh, I’ll make you a fuckin’ sandwich!”

“Oh, my dick!” A response that makes no sense, consistently the perfect bookend. You sigh, and finally, your eyes flit to the most terrified two in the room. “Berzattos… Holiday plans?”

“I think we’re gonna do dinner on Christmas Eve, and then the morning together? Well, I am.” Sug hesitates, she’s looking between Uncle Jimmy and Carmen. “I was gonna ask what Carm’s plan is…”

“I’ll go. I’ll go.” Carmen has to stop himself from biting the skin off the tips of his fingers. “I’ll go. And I’ll come to the party, after.”

“I’ll probably just go home with Pete after. Baby’s first Christmas, y’know.” Natalie hums and nods awkwardly. There’s a question both of them want to ask. Neither of them are brave enough to ask it. And while you can sense there’s something dancing in the air, you’re not going to overstep on this front.

“Mazel. I can buy silly decor with reason now. …Now let’s talk about the important grievances.” You hum, happy to end that chapter.

You turn just slightly to gently slap Richie’s cheek as he stands next to you. “Rich, you need to line your beard up, this neckbeard shit is pissing me off—”

“What’s with the fuckin’ drive by?!” “It’s been on my mind forever— You can’t be wearin’ suits and then be rockin’ that unkempt shit, clean up—” “I’m clean! I’m fucking clean!” “Who said? Who fuckin’ said? Cause I sure didn’t!” “How’m I s’posed to be linin’ my shit up every mornin’—” “You do not grow a beard that fast—” “Oh fuck you, I’m not fuckin’ Carmen, I grow a fuckin’ beard.”

Carmen’s just surprised to hear his name out of any name come up. “What– Now that’s a fucking drive by, what the fuck?”

“If we’re voicing grievances, I’d like to voice my fuckin’ complaint with Captain Crash-Out over here—” “Who the fuck is sublimating now?” “You’re not usin’ that term correctly, cause you’re not integrated—” “I thought you two worked this out on the road trip!” “We did!”

You only half regret starting this feud with the beard comment— To be fair, you’re right. “This is it working?”

“This is, in fact, it working.” Syd confirms plainly, her disappointment more than apparent. Rubbing the tips of her fingers to her temples. The fight is out of her, at this point.

“Alright.” You slap your hands together. “Richie, what is your complaint?” Are you just union rep now? You might be a union rep now.

“Carmen is fucking killing me.” The cocktail swishes and nearly spills as Richie points at the Chef, emphatic. “He won’t change shit for guests!”

“No substitutions!” It’s almost cultish, the way Sydney and Carmen yell it out together.

Richie scoffs, head reeling back. “What happened to it bein’ about hospitality?”

“I mean…” You suck air through your teeth, squinting. “If we’re sayin’ no substitutions, it’s no substitutions— Unless it’s like an allergy or sensory thing— But even then, it shouldn’t be like a major component getting replaced.”

“See? See?” It’s almost maniacal, rabid, how delighted Carmen is that you’re on his side. “Fuckin’ thank you. This is why I lo—”

Before Carmen can finish his sentence, Richie flails about to suddenly throw the peach and blueberry skewer from his drink at Carmen— Not the pointed side, he doesn’t want to stab the guy. Just wants to save him from running his mouth. The peach slice hits Carm’s chest as Richie stutters out, “F-Fuck you, fuck you, fine. No substitutions— What the fuck am I supposed to say then?” speaking over whatever syllables fell out of Carmen’s mouth, muddling them.

You cock your brow, but Carmen seems to quickly let the childish toss go, more than eager to move on. So you do too. “...Say some bullshit like, like, The Bear encourages —uhm— explorative culinary experiences where you let your taste buds go beyond your limitations and comforts— So eat a fuckin’ mushroom, you’re not gonna die.”

“If they don’t like mushrooms—” “Then they shouldn’t order it!” “How hard is it to just fuckin’ switch it out!?” “So hard! So hard! I think! I could guess!”

“I could do it.”

“Could you?” You cross your arms, leaning your weight onto one leg, pivoting to Richie. “Okay, roleplay, you’re Carmen, I’m you—” Just as Richie opens his mouth, you hold your index finger to his lips. “I know you wanna be a bitch, I’m askin’ you to just skip that part for me.”

His shit eating grin is only a little endearing. “How am I supposed to be in character if I’m not allowed to be a bitch?”

You clench and unclench your hands in the air, but let it go, opting to move on to your little thought experiment. “Chef, patient—” Instincts never give out, huh? “Christ, patron doesn’t want mushrooms in their anolini, I need you to sub it.”

“Ah, well I’m happy to do that for you, Host Richie, I—” He’s going to go into some scathing spiel, and you love the guy, but you have to rub dirt in the wound for the lesson to stick.

You speak over him, voice stern, “Chef. In order to keep pace, I need you to make this call in fifteen seconds, what are you subbing it for?”

Richie’s head shakes back and forth as he scrambles to get his brain to work.“Fuckin— Fucking– Eggplant.”

“Eggplant?” You ask politely, tone unsure. Carmen asks it with you, tone ridiculing.

“It’s a sauce isn’t it?” You squint, turning your head to the actual Carmen. “It’s like a really thick mushroom sauce stuffed pasta?”

He tilts his head from side to side, but nods. In gist, yes. “It’s a ragout. Low and slow cooked stew—” Carmy’s ready to rave about it and teach you every facet of the dish, but perhaps that’s too romantic for a public setting. God, he’s weird about love. “We keep it going on our back burners all day— It takes an hour minimum to make from scratch, you can’t just sub it.”

“Yeah, well…” Richie stops himself short of getting snarky for no reason all over again, taking a second to think about it. “Well, I didn’t know that. You didn’t explain that shit to me.”

“I don’t have time to hold your fuckin’ hand—” Carmen stops short of getting catty when you give him a very soft and yet gutting disappointed look. He pinches the bridge of his nose, sniffing. “I can’t explain why I do everythin’ I do when I’m— When we’re in a middle of a rush, I just need you to trust when kitchen says we can’t do it. Trust that I thought it through.”

Richie has to control himself, has to make sure the corners of his mouth don’t upturn just slightly, has to make sure it’s not clear that he is overjoyed that there’s finally middle ground, can’t get his hopes up. He nods. “I just wanna make everyone happy, y’know?”

“I know. You’re—” Carmen’s nose scrunches up for a second, God, he’s never had to say that he think’s Richie’s good to his face. And he’s not gonna start now, “Eggplant would be a good sub, if we had time.”

Richie prods his tongue along the side of his cheek, thinking. “Maybe I could look into knowin’ restrictions faster and estimatin’ their orders, so you can have ‘em on deck?”

And Carmen does think that’d be a waste of time, but he’s learning. He hears it out. “Could give it a shot, yeah.”

“Same team.” Richie reaches across the counter, and Carmen actually takes his hand, a quick dap. Civil.

“Same team.” First time you’ve heard Carmen adopt your idiom; you can’t help but smile, though you’re trying to hide it. You’re too focused on arguably the two most important men in your life to notice the silent conversation Uncle Jimmy is having with The Computer, speaking solely through nods and exchanged glances.

Pay is for Chip. Cicero nods, and The Computer nods back. He gets it now. Pay is for Chip. Not just the mixologist, not just the sommelier, not just the repairman, not just the not-quite girlfriend, Chip. You’re Chip. You’re the cog, the piece. The grease between everyone.

You’re the guy. Always have been, always will be.

The silent conversation and the warm feeling in the room is cut short though, by The Computer. “Can she deal with the butter thing?”

“What the fuck is the butter thing?” You immediately jump onto the case, when Carmen looks down and away from you, you frown, leaning in. “What’s the butter thing?”

Jimmy snaps his fingers at The Computer, he hands him an invoice, which is then handed off to you. Old Major Farms, Orwellian Butter, salted and unsalted. $11,268. You just. Stare. The math comes all too easy to your head. Worth a week?

“It’s the best.” Carmen repeats as your eyes remain worryingly unblinking. “It’s—”

“Carm.” Syd all but hisses, shaking her head in tight swivels, waving her hand around her neck for him to cut it. “Making it worse.”

“Angel is like, the worst it can get.” Hums Richie. Recalling your barometer of anger. Recalling the times when Mikey would say ‘what’s the point of paying bills?’ And you’d have to pull him aside. “Can’t get much lower than that besides—”

“Light of my life.” You look up from the paper in your hand, and both Richie and Sydney wince. Your voice is terrifyingly delicate as you nod over to the room behind you. “Apple of my eye. Can I speak to you in your office, please?”

Carmy’d like to say no. “...Yeah.” But you already started walking before he even answered, so there’s not much of a choice here. You head in by yourself, and thankfully, the door closes behind you, so Carmen’s got a second before he gets devoured.

He walks around the counter, and as he nears the door, Richie grabs his arm. He whispers as he hands Carmen what’s left of his cocktail. “You need to lock the fuck in.”

“I know.” Carm returns, shooting down all that’s left of the lowball. Why’s Richie’s the sweet one? Why’d Carmen get the cough syrup drink? That’s not fair. Do you not think he’s sweet? “Thank you for the— Intercept.”

Richie nods, he’s been unwillingly playing quarterback for Carmen since going to Rockefeller and seeing that goddamn giant tree and Carmen couldn’t stop opening his big fucking mouth after seeing you under the star. “Just think with your brain, not your—”

“Don’t.” “Was gonna say heart.” “Sure.” “Don’t be weird.”

“I know it’s expensive.” Carmen gets it out before even fully closing the door behind him, “But it’s normal prices, for high-end restaurants. I know it’s different—” He stops short when he finally turns around from the closed door, to see you, holding your painting.

It’s facing you, you’re reviewing it in your hands where you sit in the office chair; the brown wrapping paper freshly ripped and on the floor. Carmen still doesn’t know what’s on the piece.

“Carm.” You twist the piece around in your hand, turning it to him. He can see the nine squares. The Beef to The Bear. Mikey. “This is not another restaurant.”

Carmen continues to stare, silently, though he takes a step closer, reaching a hand out to graze over the canvas. You keep going, clarifying. “We’re not just another high-end restaurant. We’re us. And so we should be doing things like us. We’re the best, we don’t need the stuff to be.”

He was with you until that last part. His pursed lips say as much.

“It’s—” You smack your lips together, haphazardly handing him the canvas, he’s very quick to grab it with both hands, not wanting it unstable for a second. “Hold on, let me show you somethin’ — I think I left one in here.”

You roll the office chair back a bit, sinking down in the seat to reach far behind a tall cabinet; you have to pad your hand around in the dark nook for quite some time before you pull out— A screwdriver. An oddly shaped one, at that.

“...Has that been here the whole time?”

You nod. “Like threeish years at least, I think I threw it back there while telling it’s origin story. It’s part of the first set I ever got.” You grip the flat wooden handle. “It’s the worst screwdriver on earth, like, by far.”

That gets a little chuckle out of Carmen. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You look up from it to him. “It’s a handmade set. Dad’s dad made it.” You awkwardly roll closer to him, he leans over, head next to your head as you both look down at it. “It’s got a flat wooden handle, made of poplar— So not only is it fucking impossible to get a good grip on, it’s also so fucking slippery. It’s part of a whole set, passed down from my grandpa to my dad to me.”

“Sounds fucked.”

“It is.” You laugh, and so does he. “It’s purposefully meant to piss you off.” You rub your thumb over the dent marks in the wood— All from the times you threw it at something— Including the very cabinet that it hid behind. “You ever wonder why I took over the handyman gig, bein’ the youngest and all?”

Carmy shrugs, glancing from the screwdriver to you. “Just assumed you were the best.”

That gets another laugh out of you, and Carmen’s overjoyed by the sound. “Yeah, I’m probably the best. But that’s only cause I kept up with it.”

You turn your head up to face Carmen again as you explain, “When our dad started bringing us to jobs as kids, he would make us exclusively use this set of screwdrivers— Sort of as a secret test. My brothers would get pissed off, as planned, and they’d quit and cry. And I dunno, I guess I’d cry and keep going? And I learned a couple tricks, eventually.”

“Tricks?”

“Like.” You pull back in the chair and run your hand across the office desk. The corners of it are screwed into the metal cabinet below it. “It’s really good if you’re screwing from the top down.” Using it as an example, you start to unscrew it. “It’s balanced. And it’s really all in the grip— Always loosen your grip with this one. Even if that seems counterintuitive.”

You get it to unscrew just fine with your loosened grip. “But if that doesn’t work, and you just can’t get it to work—” You lift the screwdriver in front of his face, showing off the sides of the handle. He smirks at the— “Just make your own grooves, it’ll be easier to hold.” Tiny teeth marks.

“Carm.” You tap the handle to his nose as he zones in too much on it. “I’m the best repairman because I can work with anything. You’re the best Chef because you can work with anything. You don’t need the best when you’re the best.”

He’s the best?

He’s the best.

“I truly think you could make just as good a plate with Becel as this fucking Animal Farm butter.”

Carmen’s the best. You think he’s the best.

He’s gotta think with his head and not with his heart and not with anything else, either. Lock the fuck in, Carmen.

“I dunno bout all that.” He shrugs, bashful and attempting to hide it, trying to shake the praise off his back.

“Well I know ‘bout that.” You shrug back, “I’m actually kind of a genius, when it comes to knowing who’s good and who’s not.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Carmy hums, and the sound is sweet without reservations. “...Painting is very good.” He nods to himself, on repeat, like a bobblehead. “Or I guess it’s less a painting and more a buncha photo transfers?”

“Yeah.” You set the screwdriver aside on the desk. “Most of them I took.”

“They’re good. It’s—” He pauses, tongue against his teeth. “It’s nice to see evidence he kept up, or somethin’.”

You nod, seeing Carmen’s brain struggle to keep pace in real time. “We took that one I think the day we talked to Uncle Jimmy about The Bear? Had to print out articles as proof we could make it work— Or, that you could make it work, rather.”

Carmen sniffs, crossing his arms, hands in tight fists— Probably too tight— where they hide. “Yeah, kinda fuckin’ up my end of the bargain, hm?” The light laugh that follows is hollow.

“Eh. You both did.” You smile, though it’s hesitant. “ But at least you’re still here fixing it.”

Still here. Still fixing it. That is in essence, the piece. Carmen gets lost staring at the squares, so you speak as he does. “I was trying to like. I dunno, replicate your brain.” He can see it. The messy yet coherent, controlled yet chaos. The love. The grief. The progress. The home. You see him. He can see that you see him.

“11k for butter,” Carm’s head doesn’t move but his eyes raise to you. “Is a week. More than a week.”

Ah. Carmen can see you too, see your thought process. The Ascaso, worth one of the worst weeks of Mikey’s life. The fucking butter. Worth more than a week of Mikey’s sobriety.

All you can do is nod solemnly. “It is, yeah.”

He nods back, tongue prodding his cheek. “That’s too much.”

“I’d agree.”

“I’ll switch to local.” You make it easy for him to fix his mistakes, by giving him the space to realize them.

“I think that’s the right call.” You nod, smiling. After a moment, you reach for Carmen to uncross his arms, and when he does, you take his fist and uncurl it— Your hand is a very soothing balm to the spots where he dug his nails into his own hand.

“Loosen your grip, Carmy.”

And so, he does. With a laugh and a look to high heaven, he loosens his grip. Really loosens his grip. Well— Not completely, he’s not going to say that, but he will say something that is just nearly as difficult but not quite. He'll bite down a little. He’ll make the grooves, for now, until his grip is good enough.

“Come to dinner with us?”

would you believe me if i said I had to rewrite a bit of this last scene because intially it went so rom-com and I was so disgusted when I reread it in the morning I had to stare at it in the subway ride to work like "what the fuck am I gonna do"

was this chapter good? God I hope so. I felt like with where we're going, it was kinda necessary to do Chip's onboard, set the stage for what work is like for her. I had to loosen my own grip with this one lmao. just allow myself to be a LITTLE messy. if it's bad, lie to me. tell me sweet little lies peach

DAD REVEAL THOUGH EH? MR CK!!! So much did happen this chapter. Chips on board! Squid Ink moving in together era commences! Christmas party!! Also. Would you believe me if I told you no shit syd was gonna move, she was planning it in S2, but I was planning this whole time for Ink to get evicted!! I want those fuckers to be roommates STAT!!!

anyways, i really hope i remembered to write down everyone that asked to be added to the taglist, i might've not. i'm very sorry if i didnt

oh also if you wanna be added!! send in your thoughts!! words for words baby, essay for essay cmonnn gimme ur character analysis!! (oh and also ask to be added, ofc)

@hoetel-manager , @fridavacado @sharkluver , @spectacular-skywalker , @silas-aeiou , @deadofnight0 , @sunbreathingstuff , @anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @blueaproncarmy @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @mrs-perfectly-fine @thefreakingbear @anytim3youwant

#carmen berzatto #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear #the bear x you #carmen x reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen x oc #carmy berzatto

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hysteria-things · 10 months ago

Text

SINFUL DESIRES (part two)

read part one here

read part three here

read part four here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: of course the two of you still “hate” each other. although, it’s not just the sex. you both know that.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, p in v, spanking, praising, possessiveness, hair pulling, video, pet names (pretty)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 661

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: ask for part two and you shall receive part two!

i’m a lover for nathan. that is all.

jerset part ib jersey by @worldlxvlys :)

the spring breeze hits you, making your hair flow in the wind. your best friend dragged you to a lacrosse game, where you know who plays. she knows you hate him, but she always says that you need to ‘live the high school experience.’

right now, your best friend’s mouth hangs open with utter shock. the game hasn’t started yet, so this seemed like the right time to spill the beans. “you’re telling me that nate — the person you despise — showed up at your house two weeks ago and fucked the shit out of you?”

“yup.” you exhale. “i couldn’t look at my parents for a week. told them i was watching porn and it accidentally connected to my speaker, but i don’t think they believed me.”

“holy shit.” she laughs.

you stand up from the bleachers, shoving your hands in your pockets. “i’m going to the snack stand before they come out. you want anything?”

she shakes her head. “no thanks.”

you step down the bleachers and head to the snack stand. the line isn’t long, thank goodness.

as you approach, a hand grabs your forearm and pulls you to the side. you startle at the contact.

nate’s grinning in front of you, all geared up and ready to play. “nate, what the hell?!” you scream, looking up and down his body.

your eyes start at where his eyeblack is, then to his jersey with the number 8 on it, and lastly to his cleats.

ah, shit.

“hi.” he waves in your face.

you roll your eyes. this kid.

he starts to fidget with your hoodie strings. this is the most confused you probably ever been in your life. “you coming over tonight?” he asks.

you stare blankly at him waiting for more information, but of course, he doesn’t give any. “for what?”

he shrugs. “to hang out.”

“fu-uck!” you moan as nate rails into you from behind, your ass red from the few times he spanked it. the remains of your last orgasm still make a mess on your thighs.

he has you bent over his desk, his hands bunching up the bottom of his jersey that he put on you.

somerville won the game, and according to him, this was his reward. you are his reward.

his eyes are focused on the DOE right above his jersey number. you’re wearing his name, and he’s making sure you know it.

you’re on your tippy toes, each thrust making you quiver with pleasure. your nails claw at the wood beneath you.

“jesus,” he whispers, grabbing his phone so he can record what you look like with his name on. he’s so fucking fascinated by it.

he grips onto your hair. “you look so beautiful getting fucked in my jersey, don’t you think?”

“mhm,” you grumble, your eyes threatening to cross.

he grips tighter, giving you a little spank. “use your words, pretty.”

“y-yes. i—” you’re cut off by a whimper when his tip hits that familiar spot inside of you. “gonna c-cum, nate.”

you squeeze around him as your pussy squelches, threatening to spew your liquid. he groans. “clenching around me so tight.”

you scream when he starts to go faster, hitting inside you deeper than before. your whole body trembles when you spread your cum around his dick. “there you go… that’s it.”

he shoots into the condom short after you, pulling out and throwing it in the trash can that’s set on the floor next to the desk. he places his phone back down.

he turns you around and leans in, kissing you passionately on the lips. he hums before pulling away. “i hate how much i like you.”

you smirk, but the blush on your cheeks gives you away. “i hate how much i like you, too.”

later that night while you’re in bed, you get a text message. you gasp when you open it.

nate.

[attachment: 1 video]

just a reminder

sweet dreams, pretty

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom

#nate doe #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nathan doe #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #nate doe smut #nate doe fanfic

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meowshark12 · 3 months ago

Text

i know it won't work (rc)(3)

series summary: you're best friends with topper, kelce, and rafe. it has never bothered you to see them with other girls, knowing that they usually only have flings, but, when rafe gets what appears to be a girlfriend, how does this change things?

(not canon)rafe x kook!reader, original characters

chapter 3 summary: the after effects of Topper's party. I'll leave it at that.

warnings: rafe is pissing me off.

2.4k words, basically unedited.

1 2 3

chapter 3: why

...

Topper's party ends with you, Stella, and Macey walking back over to your house after the vast majority of the crowd had dissipated. All who remained there ended up crashing somewhere in the great unknown of Topper's parent's estate.

You wake up in your bed next to a snoring Macey and an already awake Stella, who greets you with a soft smile and your water bottle. You sit up.

"Thanks," you whisper, careful to not wake Macey. You take a few sips of your water, not realizing how thirsty you actually were. "what time is it?" you ask.

"only 8" Stella responds, which prompts you to lay back down (dramatically) and open your phone.

You are met with 11 messages from Topper from last night.

...

top

yoooooo wya??

sent 1:28am

yn. are you here

sent 1:31am

did you fr go home?

sent 1:32am

omfg I see ur light on.

sent 1:32am

you actual pos

sent 1:32am

kelce and rafe are asking where you guys went

sent 1:36am

they say they're coming over

sent 1:37am

I told them not to. why did you leave?

sent 1:41am

what's wrong.

sent 1:45am

pls respond.

sent 1:46am

ok gn then. dont be mad.

sent 2:19am

...

You sigh. Stella shoots a questioning look your way before you show her your phone and she understands.

Macey stirs, though it is much too early yet for her to arise. She hums in her sleep, probably to tell you guys to be quiet.

"what do I even say to all this?" you ask, nobody answers, but you didn't really need an answer. You knew that you would explain to Topper that you and the girls just needed a girls night, but you also knew that he wouldn't buy it for a second.

You respond to Topper, and ask if he would want to meet you at the club for lunch, somewhat disregarding his messages but knowing he would force you into talking about last night somehow. Topper may not be the brightest, but he is much more in tune with emotions than someone might think. He says yes to lunch, and you turn your phone off, satisfied with the way you bought yourself a few more hours.

You think about the best way to approach the subject with Topper. Because 'hey me and the girls don't like that beautiful girl that you and the boys hangout with and we want you all to ourselves because it works better that way' doesn't seem like the right thing to say. Topper texts you again, asking if you could do coffee and bagels instead. You take a minute to respond though you know you'll say yes anyway. You were hungry and did need a hangover-curing coffee, as did your girls, you were sure.

You reply a nonchalant 'sure' to Topper before telling Stella your plans and that you'll bring her and Macey back their faves. Topper offered to drive, so you begin your walk to his house.

As you open the fence and walk through, you see Rafe's truck pulling out of the driveway with Amber in the passenger seat. You have to stifle a reaction, but you did not expect to see Rafe and Amber interact ever again. Rafe was usually a one-night kind of guy, not a one-night and drive you home the morning after kind of guy.

You had heard your fair share of Rafe's escapades in your group's conversations, but nobody in the group ever seemed phased to hear about anyone else's hookup stories.

Though, there was the one time that you shared a story that the boys, and especially Rafe, were not fond of.

You had just turned 17, and had all begun the night drinking your beverages of choice and hanging out in Kelce's room, if you could even call it that. Kelce's parents only had one kid, and they let him have free reign of their finished basement. So, as you all sprawled on the various couches and chairs there was conversation flowing aimlessly throughout the group.

Though, you started out talking to the girls (who prompted you) about your recent endeavors with a boy named John, the boys begun listening after they realized the topic of conversation. You were never entirely open with the boys about your personal life, so they were completely intrigued with the conversation.

You paused partway through your long story before realizing that the three nosy boys on the other side of the room had stopped their conversation to listen to you. You laughed, saying a quick "stop listening!" before rolling your eyes and turning back to the girls. When you saw that the boys had no intention of stopping their listening, you turned back to them and didn't speak.

"Oh come on, yn, we never get to hear about this stuff!" Kelce begins, raising his eyebrows and giving you a look to try to persuade you to continue.

"Yeah, yn, you know all about our lives, how come we rarely get to know about yours?" Topper chimes in, agreeing with Kelce's sentiment. Rafe is quiet, not sure if he wants to hear what you are going to say, but his gaze on you is intent, almost silently willing you to continue talking.

"Ugh. Okay. Well..." you begin, without really knowing how to continue. All you had really told the girls was that you had hooked up with John Townsend, the boy whose parents were the sole contributors of the Kildare Yacht Club. But, the boys hadn't been listening to who, all they heard was that you had hooked up with someone.

"Go on..." Macey says, hoping her prompting will elicit a reaction out of you.

"We've just hooked up a few times. It's not that big of a deal." You spit out finally, waiting to see what your friends will say.

"A few times?!?" Stella nearly yells. "I thought it was only the one time at his house?" She finishes, waiting for you to say something. Before you can, Macey interrupts.

"His house?!? I thought it was only at the..." she starts before glancing at the boys, "...you know where I thought it was." she finished meekly. The boys erupt in a series of "what"s and "no way"s, turning to you for an explanation.

You laugh and cover your face with your hands, your cheeks turning a shade of red that you didn't even know existed before now. The boys are all slack jawed and waiting for you to talk.

"Oh what? Like you all haven't had your fair share of hookups??" You start, "why is this so crazy?"

"because its YOU, yn. You've never told us about this stuff before, even when we ask!" Topper says, still bewildered. You look between the boys. Rafe seemingly deep in thought, Kelce wide eyed, and Topper's mouth still hanging open.

You begin to defend yourself before you are cut off by Rafe asking "Who is this guy?" and that's when you realize that they hadn't been listening the whole time. Topper and Kelce hum to show that they also want to know. You look over at Stella and Macey, both of whom are making faces at you to show that maybe you shouldn't tell the boys who this mystery man is that you've hooked up with more than one time.

"Ummmmmmm..." you start, not intending to share with them.

"Fine. If you don't want to share, we'll just got through your phone and find out ourselves." Topper says, lunging toward your phone with an open hand.

You protest, holding it out of reach. Some semblance of a fight ensues, the girls trying to keep them away and the boys pushing through (to the best of their ability without trampling a bunch of 17 year old girls) to get to your phone.

"FINE!" you finally shout, stopping the fight. "If you really want to know that bad... it was John Townsend." You finish.

Rafe is the first to speak. "What?" He says plainly.

"Did you really not hear me?" you say.

"no, I think I heard you. I just- what??" he finally answers.

You look at the rest of the group, the girls looking relieved but worried, and the other boys looking somewhat the same as Rafe.

"What's the problem with John?" you ask innocently.

"What's the problem? Yn what's NOT the problem?" Kelce begins before Topper finishes his sentence.

"Yeah, yn, that guy is bad news. His parents might be hot shit in Kildare, but he's a weirdo. Especially for younger girls, like you." Topper says, not intending to hurt you with his words, but they do sting a little.

Rafe is still silent, and you look to him to say something. He avoids your gaze, waiting for the other boys to be done.

"I think they just mean that you should be careful, yn" Stella begins, trying to fix the tension in the room.

"No, Stel, we mean that she shouldn't be so stupid to fuck around with a dirty loser like that guy." Rafe finally speaks up, and his words hurt you the most. "I mean really, yn. Be serious right now."

You're on the verge of tears, not expecting to be belittled in front of your only friends.

"Alright that's enough dumbass." Macey says. "She's allowed to do whatever she wants and doesn't need approval from anyone, especially not you idiots."

You give her a small smile. You're not sure why Rafe's words affected you that much. You all are silent for a moment before conversation restarts. You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, hoping to get your bearings back.

Stella and Macey follow not long after you, and soon you are all on the bathroom floor. They begin explaining to you that the boys were just being stupid and protective like they always were, and that it just got out of hand. You agreed, and soon everything was back to normal. But, you had always thought about that moment before beginning to share something with your friends from that moment on.

Overall, the relationships of your friends were private from your friend group. In a way, all of your most important relationships were with each other. So why would you want that to change? Nobody ever really had serious relationships anyway, and you all liked it that way. At least you thought you all liked it that way.

Soon after you see Rafe and Amber leave, Topper comes out of the house and sees you leaning against the passenger door of his Jeep.

He gives you a small smile before unlocking his car. You open the passenger door and get in.

Topper climbs into the driver's seat right after you. "Coffee first or bagels?" he asks, avoiding the obvious awkwardness between the two of you.

"Bagels, probably? I'm gonna get coffee for the girls too, don't want it to melt," you reply easily, since conversation with Topper has always come naturally for you. Topper nods, turning up the music that was playing and rolling down the windows.

The drive to get bagels was short, short enough that neither of the two of you had tried to initiate conversation, but long enough that the awkwardness began to brew. After getting bagels, you buckled yourself in and felt the rumble of the engine, but Topper didn't shift the car to begin driving.

You knew that leaving early normally wouldn't have been a big deal for other people. Especially since you lived right next door, it makes sense to sleep in your own bed after a party instead of cramming into one person's house. But, the six of you always stayed, and if you didn't, you wouldn't leave without saying goodbye.

"So," Topper begins, "what's up with you?" he says, not necessarily intending to blame you for leaving early, but maybe he knew it was your idea to leave.

"What do you mean?" you challenge, hoping he will give you some information before you explain yourself.

"I don't know, it's just weird that you guys left yesterday," he says, pausing to take in your reaction. You nod with him, understanding why he would be upset about it. "Why did you leave without telling us? I mean, we know you live right there, but that's just never happened before. We were kinda worried... Rafe suggested showing up to your house and then Kelce wanted to go with him, but I figured we should just leave you guys be." At the mention of Rafe, your ears perk up. Why had he of all people suggested going over? Wasn't he preoccupied with Amber?

"Yeah, I know we should've told you we left," you say honestly, feeling bad that you left him high and dry. "Honestly," you begin, and Topper is now staring at you, "we were just not exactly feeling it, it was kind of a weird vibe outside with you guys... and Amber... and I don't know, we just figured we would go back to mine kinda early," you pause, seeing Topper's gaze soften. "I'm really sorry though, Top. You know I didn't mean to leave you like that. We aren't mad at you, the vibe was just off and we felt weird still being there." you finish.

"Okay... well if that's really it, and you're not mad, then we are all good. We just don't want to mess around with a mad yn, or a mad Macey, for that matter." You laugh, glad to have been able to dance around the point enough to satisfy Topper's craving for an answer from you.

The two of you finish your coffee run and come back to your house to a wide awake Stella and Macey awaiting your arrival.

"Finally!" Macey says dramatically, as if she hadn't woken up ten minutes prior.

"I think she means 'thank you'" Stella explains while helping you with their drinks.

"You're welcome," you respond, and Topper trails in behind you. After the two of you made up, you figured you might as well invite him in for breakfast.

After the four of you eat together, a notification from your group chat lights up your phone.

...

rafe

ward not home. druthers today at 12?

...

Kelce has already responded 'yes' and the four of you are in agreement as well. Today was going to be a day on the boat. You were hopeful that this would be able to mend the crack slowly forming in the group of the six of you.

But, your hopes were soon crushed when you arrived to the Druthers and see Rafe and Amber awaiting your arrival.

You look at the girls, and they're already looking at you. You sigh, shrug, and hope that you all can make the best out of the day ahead of you.

🏷️list: @flvredcas @rafesno1bae @kiiyomei @silkylovey @girlwedontcare @sunny1616 @asterizee @pillowprincess4him @patychieffi @rafeslittleangel @anightlikethisss @drewsdirtyslut @mattyskies @theyluvmesblog @gothamgirl2024 @ujws5 @kmhbygss @kaiparkerwifes

a/n: hope you all keep enjoying! sorry for huge delay in posting. ill be back hopefully for a while!

#obx #obx fanfiction #obx fic #outer banks fanfiction #outerbanks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron obx #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafecore #obx fandom #obx imagine #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader

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reidmarieprentiss · 4 months ago

Text

Bridges to Belonging

Part One Part Two Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Summary: Penelope texts Y/n, Rossi has a dinner party, Y/n and Spencer meet

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: Fluff

Warnings/Includes: mentions of virginity and sex (16+), playing never have I ever, teasing from friends, consuming alcohol

Word count: 3.7k

a/n: i am cranking this story out it is going to be finished so fast dear goddd ,, hopefully y'all like it!!! probably like 5 ish more parts is my guess

main masterlist

Y/n was settling in for the night after a long shift at the hospital, kicking her feet up on her coffee table with a glass of wine in hand when her usually dead phone vibrated.

Hey, Y/N! 😊 It's Penelope from the BAU. Hope you don't mind me texting! Just thought I'd check in and see how my favorite child psychologist is doing. 🌟

Hey, Penelope! Of course, I don't mind :) I’m doing well, just busy with work as usual. How about you?

Busy saving the world, one computer at a time! 🖥️💪 So, tell me, are you still too busy to date, or have you finally joined us mere mortals in the quest for love? 💘

Haha I guess we’re getting right into it. I suppose I am feeling ready to dip my toes back into the dating pool. But I’ve been avoiding it for a while 😅 Awkward first dates are terrifying!

Ooh, exciting! 🥳 But I totally get the fear. Blind dates can be the worst. You never know if you're going to meet Prince Charming or... well, not. 😬

Exactly! And I've been so focused on my career that I haven't really thought about dating in a while. Plus, all my undergrad flings made me a bit wary of anything serious.

Understandable. Sometimes you just need to have fun, right? But now that you’re settled, maybe it’s time for a change? 😉

Yeah, maybe you're right. I wouldn't mind meeting someone who shares my interests and gets my sense of humor.

OMG, that sounds like a dream. Let me know when you find them and send me one too. 💖

Ha! If I find one I will let you know. How does one even go about meeting new people nowadays?

Well… You remember Rossi, right? He’s having a pasta and wine night at his mansion this Friday at 8 pm!! 🎉

Pasta and wine?? Sounds perfect. Thanks, Penelope! I’ll be there, I appreciate you thinking of me :)

Anytime, Y/N! Can’t wait for you to meet the rest of the team. I’ve got a good feeling about this! 💖✨

—

The rest of the team? Y/n thought to herself. She had assumed she met everyone already when she went for drinks with Aaron and the team. Maybe they added a new member. Regardless, she's excited to do three of her favorite things, eat pasta, drink wine, and let rich people pay for everything.

—

The evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow over David Rossi’s expansive estate. Nestled in the Virginia countryside, the elegant home exuded both charm and sophistication, a perfect reflection of its owner. The team arrived one by one, greeted by the welcoming scent of freshly baked bread and simmering marinara sauce that wafted through the air, promising a feast of Italian delights.

As Y/n stepped into the house, they were embraced by the warm ambiance of the living room, where a crackling fire in the stone fireplace added a cozy touch. The room was tastefully decorated with leather-bound books, framed photographs, and art pieces that told stories of Rossi’s travels and experiences. Soft jazz music played in the background, the soothing melodies mingling with the lively chatter of the guests.

The dining room was a vision of elegance, with a long mahogany table set for the evening's festivities. Flickering candlelight danced across the table, casting a gentle glow on the polished silverware and delicate china. Each place setting was thoughtfully arranged, complete with fine crystal wine glasses waiting to be filled with Rossi’s carefully curated selection of wines.

On the far side of the room, a sideboard displayed an array of antipasti: olives, cured meats, marinated vegetables, and various cheeses artfully arranged on rustic wooden boards. A large bouquet of fresh flowers served as the centerpiece, adding a splash of color and vibrancy to the room.

The kitchen bustled with activity as Rossi, ever the gracious host, put the finishing touches on a variety of homemade pasta dishes. Large pots simmered on the stove, the fragrant aroma of garlic and herbs filling the air. A pan of lasagna bubbled in the oven, its cheese topping perfectly golden brown. Fresh basil and parsley were sprinkled generously over platters of spaghetti aglio e olio and creamy fettuccine alfredo, each dish a testament to Rossi’s culinary skills and passion for Italian cuisine.

In the adjoining patio, strings of fairy lights twinkled overhead, providing a magical canopy under which the team could relax and unwind. Comfortable seating areas were arranged to encourage conversation, and a small fire pit offered warmth as the evening grew cooler. The gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets added a serene backdrop to the lively gathering.

The evening at Rossi’s house was in full swing. The room was alive with laughter and conversation, and the clinking of glasses mingled with the soft strains of jazz music. The warm glow from the fireplace and the dim lighting created a cozy, inviting atmosphere that wrapped the team in a sense of comfort and camaraderie.

As the doorbell rang, David straightened his jacket and moved toward the entrance with a welcoming smile. He opened the door to reveal Y/N, who stood on the threshold, looking radiant in her deep green dress that highlighted her curves and complemented her confident demeanor.

“Y/N! Welcome!” Rossi exclaimed, stepping aside to usher her into the house. His voice was warm and genuine, filled with the kind of hospitality that made his guests feel immediately at home. “I’m so glad you could make it. We’ve been looking forward to this evening.”

Y/N’s face brightened with a warm smile as she stepped inside. “Thank you, David. I’m excited to be here. The house looks wonderful.”

Rossi gave a hearty laugh. “It’s all thanks to the amazing team I have. Let me introduce you to everyone.”

With a graceful wave of his hand, Rossi guided Y/N into the living room, where the BAU team had gathered. The room buzzed with the energy of friends reconnecting after a long day. Rossi’s arrival with Y/N caught the attention of the group, and they turned to greet her with friendly smiles and nods.

Spencer, who had been deep in a conversation with Derek about a recent case, felt a shift in the atmosphere. His gaze followed Rossi and Y/N as they entered, his attention abruptly captured.

Spencer’s breath hitched slightly as he took in Y/N’s presence. The warm lighting seemed to highlight her natural beauty, and the graceful way she moved across the room was both captivating and disorienting. The rest of the team offered her friendly waves and greetings, but Spencer was fixated on her, his curiosity piqued.

Hotch, noticing Spencer’s focused attention, decided it was time for introductions. He approached Spencer with a friendly, knowing smile and gestured toward Y/N.

“Spencer,” Hotch began, his tone calm and reassuring, “I’d like you to meet Y/N.”

Spencer turned to face Hotch, his heart racing a bit. Hotch continued, “Y/N, this is Spencer Reid. He’s one of our most brilliant team members here at the BAU.”

Y/N extended her hand with a warm, welcoming smile. “Hi, Spencer. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

God, even her voice is beautiful.

Spencer, momentarily taken aback, felt a flutter of nerves as he took her hand. “Hi, Y/N. It’s, uh, nice to meet you too. I’ve heard a lot about you as well,” he replied, his voice tinged with both shyness and genuine interest.

Y/N’s gaze was kind and her smile reassuring, making Spencer feel more at ease. “I hope it’s all been good,” she said with a playful glint in her eye.

Spencer managed a small, tight lipped smile, as he tucked his hair behind one ear and his nerves started to settle. “Definitely,” he replied, feeling a warmth that contrasted with his usual social anxiety.

Y/N leaned in slightly, her eyes meeting Spencer’s with a genuine curiosity. “So, Spencer,” she began, her tone light and engaging, “what’s one thing you’re passionate about outside of work?”

Spencer’s eyes lit up as he considered her question. “Well, I’m really into chess,” he admitted. “I’ve been playing since I was a kid. It’s a great way to exercise the mind and challenge myself.”

Y/N’s smile widened. “I didn’t know that. I used to play chess with my grandfather when I was younger. It’s a fascinating game. Do you have a favorite opening strategy?”

Spencer’s face brightened, and he leaned in a bit more, his enthusiasm evident. “Yes! I’m a big fan of the Queen’s Gambit. It’s a classic and very versatile. What about you?”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she shared her own chess experiences. The conversation continued, the two finding common ground and enjoying each other’s company.

Hotch observed the interaction with a pleased expression, satisfied with the introduction. He stepped back, allowing Spencer and Y/N to continue their conversation. The team resumed their chatter, though the undercurrent of excitement about the new connection was palpable.

The evening had progressed into a more relaxed phase as the team retreated to Rossi’s lush backyard. The gentle clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversation blended with the soft rustling of leaves in the warm night breeze. The group had moved outside after enjoying a sumptuous Italian feast prepared by Rossi and Penelope, and now they were settling into comfortable chairs and sofas, each with a glass of wine in hand.

Spencer, still a bit on edge but feeling slightly more at ease, had decided to join in on the wine, especially since Y/N had done the same. The rich, full-bodied wine paired perfectly with the after-dinner atmosphere, adding to the relaxed ambiance of the evening.

Derek, always the instigator of fun, leaned back in his chair with a mischievous grin. “Alright, everyone, I think it’s time for a game. How about a round of ‘Never Have I Ever’?” He looked around the circle with a gleam in his eye, clearly excited about the prospect of the game.

Emily raised an eyebrow playfully. “Oh, this should be interesting. Let’s see who’s willing to spill some secrets tonight.”

Y/N looked intrigued but a bit hesitant. “Sounds fun. I’m game.”

The group settled into a comfortable rhythm as Derek began the game. “Okay, I’ll start. Never have I ever... gone skydiving.”

A few people sipped their wine, including Emily and Rossi. “Guilty as charged,” Rossi said with a chuckle. “Skydiving is quite the adrenaline rush.”

Y/N, who had taken a sip, smiled and said, “I’ve always wanted to try it, but never had the chance.”

Spencer, still holding his glass, observed the interactions with a mix of curiosity and caution. He had never played this game before, not having ever been invited to parties in high school or college, and while he was intrigued, he wasn’t sure how much he was ready to reveal about himself.

JJ leaned forward, looking at Y/N with a grin. “Okay, your turn. What’s something we’d never expect from you?”

Y/N thought for a moment, then laughed softly. “Alright, never have I ever... been to a strip club.”

This time, the whole team, including Penelope, sipped their wine. “Oh, I mean we all have been on multiple occasions for a case,” Penelope admitted with a grin. “It’s a rite of passage.”

Spencer watched Y/N closely, noticing how easily she blended with the group, her laughter and easy demeanor making her approachable. He found himself feeling more comfortable, the game serving as a welcome distraction from his usual reservations.

As the game continued, Derek took his turn. “Never have I ever... gone on a blind date.”

Spencer, who had been carefully sipping his wine, hesitated for a moment before taking a sip. He caught Y/N’s eye and saw her smile warmly. “Well, that’s a new one for me,” she said, clearly amused.

Hotch, enjoying the playful banter, decided to chime in. “I think it’s safe to say that a lot of us have had some interesting experiences with blind dates.”

The game continued with a mix of laughter, surprises, and the occasional sip of wine. As it came around to Spencer’s turn, he took a deep breath, deciding to take a small risk. “Never have I ever... read all the books in a series before the final book was released.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, and she laughed. “Oh, I’m guilty of that too. I get too impatient for the next installment.”

Spencer felt a small spark of connection, his nerves easing as he realized they shared a common interest. “It’s the only way to avoid spoilers,” he said with a smile.

The conversation flowed easily as the game progressed, with everyone sharing stories and bonding over their revelations. Spencer found himself more relaxed, the warmth of the wine and the easygoing nature of the game creating an environment where he could be himself.

The group settled into their seats even more lubricated with wine, ready for the real revelations. Derek went first, his tone playful. “Never have I ever... been to a nightclub and partied until dawn.”

Y/N, Emily, Penelope and Derek took a sip, with Emily laughing. “Oh, I’ve done that more times than I can count. Nothing like a night out on the town to blow off some steam.”

Spencer seemed slightly more at ease with each revelation. “I’ve never been to one of those. It sounds like an experience.”

The game continued with more revealing questions. Emily, with a mischievous glint in her eye, asked, “Never have I ever... had a one-night stand.”

Spencer was visibly surprised when Y/N took a sip. Y/N gave a small, slightly embarrassed smile. “It’s a part of life’s experiences, but I guess I’ve been more focused on my career lately.”

Spencer nodded, a hint of understanding in his eyes. He was keenly aware of the fact that he was still a virgin, and while he wanted to connect with Y/N on a deeper level, he found himself struggling. She had undoubtedly had more romantic and physical experiences than he had. The thought that someone as stunning and sophisticated as Y/N would be interested in a novice like him seemed almost inconceivable. He was trying hard not to let his insecurities cloud his mood. The way she smelled—like a wet dream—was both intoxicating and overwhelming. Her laughter, so genuine and carefree, only accentuated the gulf between them. Spencer tried to shake off the discomfort, reminding himself to stay engaged.

Derek, sensing the shift in the conversation and relishing the opportunity to provoke more personal revelations, threw out another provocative prompt. “Never have I ever... gone on a vacation just for the sake of hooking up with someone.”

Penelope and Emily took a sip, with Penelope letting out a soft laugh. “Sometimes you just need to get away and see where the night takes you,” she said, a playful glint in her eye.

Y/N, now visibly more at ease and enjoying the shared camaraderie, leaned in slightly, her voice carrying a teasing edge. “I’ve always found travel is more about the sights than the romance. But I suppose the adventure can include a little... spontaneous connection,” she said, letting her words linger with a hint of allure. Her gaze flicked towards Spencer briefly, a subtle challenge in her eyes.

Spencer felt a slight flush creeping up his neck as he realized Y/N’s playful comment was not lost on him. The conversation had taken a decidedly more personal turn. “I’ve never really mixed vacation with... personal pursuits,” he admitted, his tone tinged with shyness. The idea of combining travel with romantic endeavors seemed foreign and somewhat intimidating.

As the game continued, the topics grew more intense and revealing. Rossi, with a knowing smile and a glint of mischief, asked, “Never have I ever... been in a relationship where both partners had different kinks.”

Everyone, even Hotch, took a sip, with Rossi adding, “Sometimes those differences can make things... particularly exciting.”

Y/N, engaging more openly with the group, nodded thoughtfully. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke. “It’s definitely something that can add a layer of complexity to a relationship,” she said, her voice taking on a more intimate tone. “It’s all about finding that balance and exploring what truly works for both partners.”

Spencer, taking a sip and feeling the warmth of the wine begin to loosen his nerves, found himself caught between curiosity and shyness. “It sounds like navigating those differences can be... challenging,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze remained fixed on Y/N, trying to read the subtle nuances in her expressions. The vulnerability she displayed in her words made her even more intriguing.

Y/N’s smile widened slightly, a mix of empathy and flirtation in her gaze. “It can be, but it’s also part of what makes relationships interesting,” she said, her voice soft but laced with a suggestive undertone. She met Spencer’s eyes with a confident yet gentle look, as if inviting him to share more of his thoughts.

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling a blend of attraction and apprehension. The way Y/N spoke, her casual yet intimate revelations, made him want to know more about her and, perhaps, reveal more about himself. The game had opened a door to a new level of connection, one that both excited and intimidated him.

The night had drifted into a mellow haze as the stars began to twinkle in the sky. The soft hum of conversation and clinking of glasses had subsided into a relaxed murmur as the team lingered in Rossi’s backyard, enjoying the cool night air. The rich aroma of the evening’s wine lingered in the air, adding a heady undertone to the tranquil setting.

Spencer had been engaged in a conversation with Rossi, but his mind kept drifting back to the playful exchanges he’d shared with Y/N. She had been captivating throughout the evening, her laughter and teasing remarks sticking in his mind. He found himself drawn to her energy, even as he struggled with his own insecurities.

As the night wore on, guests began to trickle out, and the ambiance of the backyard shifted to a quieter, more intimate atmosphere. Spencer watched as Y/N, her cheeks flushed with the warmth of the wine, made her way towards him. Her movements were graceful, and there was a certain confident allure in her stride that made Spencer’s heart skip a beat.

Y/N approached Spencer with a mix of determination and vulnerability. She cleared her throat gently, her eyes locking with his in a gaze that was both direct and inviting. The faint glow from the string lights above cast a warm halo around her, highlighting her striking features and the subtle sheen of her skin.

“Hey, Spencer,” she said, her voice soft but laden with an undeniable edge of sincerity. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Spencer, caught off guard, nodded. “Of course, Y/N. What’s up?”

Y/N led him a little away from the remaining guests, her hand brushing lightly against his as she guided him to a more secluded corner of the backyard. Spencer found he didn’t mind the contact too much, he might still wash his hands after. The quiet of the night enveloped them, the sounds of the party fading into the background.

She took a deep breath, her eyes searching his with a mix of hesitation and resolve. “I’ve really enjoyed talking with you tonight,” she began, her voice a touch more vulnerable than usual. “And I have to admit, I’ve been thinking... I’d like to see you again. Maybe for a coffee or dinner sometime? I’d love to get to know you better.”

Spencer’s heart raced as he took in her words. He felt a rush of warmth at the idea of spending more time with her, but the reality of his inexperience and his nerves threatened to overwhelm him. He managed a small, nervous smile, his mind racing through a whirlwind of thoughts.

“I’d like that,” Spencer said, his voice trembling slightly. “I’d really like that. I... I didn’t expect this, but I’m glad you asked.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she reached out to touch his arm, her fingers lingering for a moment. “Good,” she said, her tone taking on a more intimate quality.

Spencer felt a surge of excitement mixed with his usual apprehension. The way Y/N looked at him, with that blend of confidence and genuine interest, made him feel like he was worthy of her attention.

“Absolutely,” he said, feeling more confident. “Let’s definitely make plans. I’d like that very much.”

Y/N’s smile widened, a mix of relief and satisfaction crossing her face. “Great. I’m looking forward to it.”

With that, she gave him a warm, lingering smile and a light touch on his arm before heading back towards the group to say her goodbyes. Spencer watched her go, with a brand new phone number in his pocket, feeling a renewed sense of hope and excitement. The evening had taken an unexpected turn, and he couldn’t wait to see where this new connection with Y/N might lead.

#spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #penelope garcia #david rossi #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #criminal minds fandom #bau team #bau family

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theformulaimagines · 8 days ago

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Look at that woman (breaking my heart) | part nine

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Vettel!Reader

Summary: For one and a half years Lewis and y/n managed to keep their relationship a secret, until it blew up in their faces. Now, they're trying their hardest to pick up the pieces...

Warnings: angst

masterlist

Three weeks later…

This whole situation feels like a bad dream. Like a horrible nightmare. How could they have this sort of slip up? They’ve been so careful…

She can still remember the look on his face when she left their Airbnb to get into the taxi. The awful presence of their mutual heartbreak was visual in his eyes. A little break, that’s what they decided on. Their managers suggested they should get some space to breathe, some time apart to figure out what to do next. How to move forward.

She also remembers Sebastian‘s silence when she got into his car. He picked her up from the airport, his voice was coated in disappointment and hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”, he had asked her when they parked outside his house. “We didn’t tell anyone.” “I’m not anyone.”

Y/N sighs as she brings the cup of coffee up to her lips. The cold air feels good on her hot skin as she watches the sun rise over the mountains.

“Morning.”

The young woman flinches slightly and when she turns her head she catches a glimpse of the small smile on her brother’s lips:” Sorry.”

Yet she shakes her head:” No, hi. It’s fine. Good morning.” Her hands bring the blanket closer to her chin, while Sebastian sits down next to her, positioning his coffee on the table in front of them:” How are you doing today?”

Y/N licks her lips and immediately regrets it:” I think it’s too early to decide on that.” She wants to sound witty, but it just comes out sad. Her eyes fixate on the mountains and a few seconds later she blinks away the tears that are forming. Sebastian notices them out of his peripheral vision and sighs, his hand reaches for hers.

No matter how angry he has been about her keeping her relationship a secret he still loves her. So much. “It’s going to be okay, you know.”, he lets out after a few moments and watches how a weak scoff leaves her. He wonders what she would say if she knew Lewis has been texting him regularly since they last saw one another.

f1gossipofficial has made a post

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f1gossipofficial: Breaking News! Recent information from reliable sources suggests that Y/N Vettel and Lewis Hamilton have not communicated in several weeks, as they are currently taking a break from their relationship.

view all comments…

user 1: NOT A BREAK NOOOO

user 2: i hope everyone who has sent hate their way is going to have a horrible life from today on

user 3: thank you GOD!!!!

user 4: you’re awful

“Is she okay?”

Sebastian turns his head and when he makes eye contact with his wife he takes a deep breath. “I mean, I always reckoned that something was going on between them… but I wouldn’t know what to do if I was her.”, Hanna whispers and watches Y/N through the closed glass door:” She’s probably dying inside.”

The blonde man tilts his head at her confession:” You knew?” “You didn’t notice the way they looked at one another?”, she asks and turns on the coffee machine:” The giggling and smiling? The way he would always gaze down at her from the podium? He did take more risks whenever she was watching. God, Sebastian.” He lets out a beaten sigh.

“I wish I could do something about this mess.”

“I know you do.”, Hanna says, walking up to him:” I mean, I am glad she’s not using her phone at-.” She’s cut off by the doorbell ringing, and Sebastian rolls his eyes:” It’s 8 am on a fucking Sunday, I swear to God.” He lets go of his wife before walking down the hallway. With one swift motion, he opens the door.

His eyes instantly widen at the sight in front of him.

“Hi.”, Lewis says, trying his best to smile at Sebastian but it looks more forced than genuine. “What are you doing here?”

“I have to see Y/N.”

#f1 fanfic #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 #f1 texts #fanfic #imagine

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thewritingrowlet · 6 months ago

Text

The Outing Trip pt. 2, ft. tripleS Xinyu and Dahyun

tags: cheating, cum-in-mouth, creampie, ass play, (a bit) rough

word count: ~10k words

author's note: I was 3k words deep into this shit when I realized that I didn't have any picture of them together so here's their pictures from the GND showcase. In terms of plot, I initially wanted Dahyun to have a bigger role but then I decided that I'd give her the spotlight in a future part instead.

Anyway, thanks always for reading <3

p.s. Wolfie if you see this again; send me another idea on June 12th (oddly specific, I know). Thanks in advance. <3

[🐈‍⬛| 08:02]

Oppa

Don’t forget

We have a meeting with everyone today at 1545

Don’t forget to bring Xinyu with you

“Xinyu-yah”, you call out to Xinyu, who’s busy getting dressed in the bedroom, “Nakyoung just reminded me of today’s meeting”. Xinyu gets out from the bedroom after she’s done changing, “yeah, she just texted me as well. You don’t have classes today, do you, oppa?”. You get up from the sofa and shake your head, “I’ll take you to campus, baby. I’ll refuel the car after dropping you off”. She shoves you in the chest and you’re sat back down on the sofa, “it’s like 8, let’s chill for now”. Xinyu then sits on your lap and tucks her head against your neck, “I always like how you make me feel small even though I’m taller than most people”. You chuckle and peck the top of her head, “you can thank my dad for his genes, precious”. She squeals at the pet name, “aww, that’s a new one, isn’t it?”. “Not really”, you say, “I said it last Monday when I was lulling you to nap—remember when you were resting your head on my lap? You probably already drifted away to dreamland when I said that, though”. “Oppa, I want to take a little nap like this until it’s time to leave, okay?”, Xinyu says as she steals a peck on the neck from you.

After a few minutes of seated cuddling/napping, it’s now 10 minutes before Xinyu needs to leave for class. You want to make sure that she’s in the correct state of mind before you take her to campus, so you attempt to wake the napping fox. “Honey”, you say as you give her some taps on the back, “we need to leave soon”. She looks around her as she gathers her consciousness, “huh? Already?”. “Yes, already. Now let’s wake up and get ready, okay?”, you pepper her face with kisses to help her wake up. She holds your head to make you stop, “give me a reason why I should go to class and give up the chance to be spoiled by my boyfriend all day long—it better be a very good and rational one, oppa”. You crank the gears in your head to come up with an answer for your clingy sweetheart, but you only manage to come up with the most dull and basic answer of all time: “your education is important, love—what would people say when they hear that the vice president refuses to go to class because she wants to stay at home with her boyfriend?”. She huffs in false annoyance, “I don’t care about what people say, oppa. The world is ours and they’re merely leasing in it”. “C’mon, let’s not say such thing, love. I’ll carry you to the car, okay?”, you lift her by her thighs and stand up from the sofa.

You’re now in the car, on your way to campus to drop Xinyu off before getting fuel for your car. You notice that she hasn’t made any sound since you two left the parking lot, so you look at her and see that she’s asleep again. You suspect that she’s not feeling too well and not in the best mood, so you decide to make a quick detour to get some ice cream for her—thankfully she doesn’t wake up when you’re in the drive-thru because that’ll spoil the surprise.

“Cutie pie”, you softly tap Xinyu in the arm, “we’re here”. “I’m not feeling too well, oppa. I’m having a period right now and it’s not pleasant”, she says with a weak voice. The tone and manner of her speech makes your heart ache because Xinyu is never one to act like this. “Honey, look at me, please”, you grab a cup of ice cream and show it to her, “I have some ice cream for you. I hope this helps”. She smiles despite the discomfort and takes the ice cream from your hand, “thank you so much, oppa. Your kindness keeps reminding me of why I fell in love with you”. You pull her to you and peck her lips, “I love you, baby. Please hang on until the end of the day, okay?”. She says her farewell before getting out of the car with ice cream in hand, and you wait until she disappears from your sight before driving away.

Xinyu greets you in front of the classroom where the meeting is taking place but instead of leading you in, she pulls you around the corner instead. She pulls you into her embrace and hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much for the ice cream, oppa. I’m so sorry for being annoying all the time”, she says. You peck the top of her head in response; “you’re not annoying, baby. How can I say that you’re annoying when I don’t know exactly what you were going through? It’s not fair for you”. She lets go of the hug and wipes her glassy eyes; “you’re gonna make me cry if we keep hugging. Thank you, oppa, seriously”. You take her hand and walk into the classroom with her to get ready for the meeting.

“Hey, look who’s here with me”, Nakyoung says when she sees you two enter—Yooyeon is sitting on her left while Dahyun and Chaeyeon are on her right. “Unnie, hi”, Xinyu waves at her. “Hey, guys”, Yooyeon replies with small waves of her own. “Are you going to be with us for the meeting, Yooyeon-ah?”, you ask her. “I was about to ask if I can, actually. Nakyoung-ie told me to ask for your permission”, she says. You shrug, “I don’t mind having a spectator. We’re getting food after as well so it’s easier like this”. You walk to the four girls and give Dahyun and Chaeyeon a fist bump, “welcome to the council, you two. Run for presidency when you can, okay?”. “Thank you, oppa. We won’t disappoint”, Dahyun says.

Nakyoung told you a few days ago that she wanted to run this meeting, so you take a seat among the 30-something person crowd and let the spokesperson cook. “Alright everyone”, Nakyoung starts as she stands in front of the class, “I’ll be the one speaking today, since Jisung-oppa is having a sore throat today. Let’s get started, shall we?”. Xinyu leans over and whispers to you, “your throat is sore, oppa? Must’ve been the ice cream”. You chuckle and shake your head, “no, it’s not; she made that up”.

Nakyoung kicks off the meeting by explaining the when and where of the trip; 3 days 2 night from September 29th until October 1st on the island across the strait. She then continues by explaining the method of transportation to get there, which is by bus, which will get on a ferry to cross the water before getting off and continuing the ride until you arrive at the resort. Lastly, she announces that each room will be occupied by 3 people and that everyone is allowed to choose who they want to share the room with, as long as they’re of the same gender. She skips the “who” part of the 5W1H because it’s obvious already; who else is participating if not the members and leaders of the council? Nakyoung takes a sip of water and catches her breath before answering a bunch of questions from people in the room. After answering all of them, she sees that no one else raises a hand, so she ends the meeting and tells them to send her an email should they have questions.

Only the 6 of you remain the classroom after everyone else has scattered to continue their day. “Good job, Nakyoung-ah. You did well”, you praise her. She pulls Xinyu to her feet and hugs her, “aaaah, I’m so tireeeed. Is this how it’s always like for you, oppa?”. You chuckle as you get up from your seat, “kind of. You get used to it, though”. Yooyeon chimes in and tells her perspective, “I haven’t got used to it even though we’ve had a bunch of meetings already. Being in the center of attention overwhelms me”. You offer a hand for Dahyun and Chaeyeon to help them up. “Let’s go get dinner, girls. It’s on me, just like usual”, you say as you lead them to the door.

“Does anyone have any idea where we should go?”, you ask the crowd in your car. “Dahyun-ie’s restaurant! I want burgers, oppaaaa”, Nakyoung raises her hand and exclaims. “Any objections?”, you ask once again but get no answer. “Alright, Dahyun-ie’s restaurant it is”, you say. You glance at the rearview mirror and see that Dahyun is covering her cheeks, presumably to hide her blush. You look forwards again and keep driving until you get to your destination.

“Alright, girls; we’re here”, you look around the car and see that everyone was asleep—no wonder the ride was super quiet. Everyone but Xinyu gradually wakes up after hearing your announcement, as they reach for their stuff and slowly get out of the car. You get out of the car and sprint to the other side to help Xinyu get out. “Please carry me, oppa”, she says. You’re concerned if maybe she’s in pain, “are you okay, baby? Does your body ache?”. “I’m okay, just feeling extra clingy today”, she says with a teasing smile. You repay her smile with one of sweetness before giving her a piggyback ride to the restaurant.

“Mom, I’m bringing my friends again!”, Dahyun greets her mom as your group enters the restaurant. “Omo! Welcome back, children”, Mrs. Seo waves to you and your friends, “what’s wrong with the miss on your back, Jisung-ah?”. “She’s having a period so she’s not feeling so well right now. Xinyu-yah, say hi to Mrs. Seo”, Xinyu waves cutely after hearing your words. Mrs. Seo puts her hands on her chest, “and you’re carrying her like that? Oh, how cute and nice you are”. You deflect her words and line up in front of the cashier with the girls to order. After everyone has finished ordering, you pay for everything (without forgetting the extra) and head to your group’s favorite spot near the wall.

Everyone but Xinyu has now completed their meal, so the 5 of you stay seated and wait for her—Dahyun’s mom gave Xinyu an extra serving of fries, so combine that with the fact that she’s not feeling well, it takes her longer to finish her food. Since you’re sitting next to Xinyu, you’re able to offer comfort her and encourage her to keep eating. Chaeyeon praises you for being a good boyfriend to Xinyu and that you and Xinyu are really meant to be together. You thank Chaeyeon for the kind words and pray that you’ll get to spend the rest of your life with Xinyu, because there’s no one else that you love more than her.

You see Dahyun get up from her seat and stand next to Xinyu before whispering something to her ear. Xinyu replies to whatever Dahyun just said with a nod, so Dahyun walks up to you and whisper in your ear. “Oppa, my parents want to talk to you. Follow me, please”, Dahyun says. You give her a nod and follow her to some office space tucked away in the back of the restaurant.

Once you enter, you see that the room she has led you into is actually empty. “Where are your parents, Dahyun-ah?”, you ask her as you look around the room. “Oh, they’ll be here soon”, Dahyun says as she approaches you, “I told them to join us when I tell them to. I want some private time with you first”. You look at her in confusion, and that’s when she pulls you down by your nape and kiss you. Dahyun breaks the kiss after a minute and rests her head on your chest. “What was that, Seo Dahyun?”, you ask her. You don’t hear any answer from her, but you do hear some sobs. “I love you, oppa, but I know I have no chance against Xinyu-unnie. There’s no way that you’ll leave her for me, is there?”, she says after a sniffle. “Dahyun-ah”, you say as you wrap your arms around her slender torso, “what are you saying right now? What does Xinyu have to do with anything?”. Noticing that you’re hugging her, Dahyun rids of any thoughts that’s holding her back and hugs you. “I just wish that you were mine, oppa, but we both know that it’s highly unlikely to happen”, she confesses.

You take a deep breath before pulling away from the hug. “Please don’t cry; I hate seeing girls cry”, you say as you wipe the tears on her cheek, “can we get your parents after this? The sooner we can get this out of the way, the better”. “I lied”, she confesses, “I just wanted to have some private time with you”. You can’t believe your ears; “excuse me?”, you question her. “I lied to you and Xinyu-unnie—is she always that gullible, by the way?”, she says. “Yes, she is”, you admit and sigh, “I’m getting out of here. The last thing I want today is breaking Xinyu’s heart by lying to her”. She grabs your wrist as you start walking away, “can I at least tempt you with a blowjob?”. “No, I get that a lot from Xinyu already”, you say, resolute and clear—not sure why you need to flex your sex life to Dahyun, though.

You return to the dining area and see that Xinyu has eaten all her food. You get on a knee next to her so that you gauge how she’s feeling based on her expressions. “Good job finishing them, baby. How are you feeling right now?”. Nakyoung answers your question for Xinyu, “she said she wants to go home soon, oppa”. “You do, sweetie?”, you ask Xinyu, and she replies with a nod. You get back on your feet and look at the crowd, “are we ready to go?”. “Just leave, don’t worry about us”, Yooyeon says, “go, take Xinyu home. I’ve been in her shoes before, and I wished I had had a boyfriend like you at the time”.

You carry her out of the car as soon as you arrive at your building and hustle straight to the bedroom. “Let’s lie down for a second, okay? I’ll get you some water and clothes”, you say to her after setting her down in bed. “No!”, she blurts out, “just-just be in bed with me, oppa, please”. You grant her request and get in bed to cuddle with her, and Xinyu promptly wraps her long limbs around different parts of your body. “Oppa, you won’t leave me for anyone else, right?”, she asks, as if knowing of what happened in the restaurant with you and Dahyun. “Never, princess”, you assure her with a short but genuine answer. She pecks you in the neck before continuing, “I don’t care if I sound like a broken record every time I say it, but I really mean it every single time, oppa”. “I would much rather listen to a broken record than be the cause of a broken heart—does that makes sense, by the way?”, you say, earning a small chuckle from Xinyu. “I don’t know if it does, but I don’t care; my stomach hurts too much and I don’t want to think about anything”, she says.

Two weeks have passed since Dahyun’s little stunt, and it is now Friday on the 29th of September which can only mean one thing: day 1 of the outing trip. “We should give this trip a name”, Nakyoung says. “You should come up with it”, Xinyu and Yooyeon say at the same time—Yooyeon isn’t coming along, but she wants to be there when you leave. “Sure, I’ll try—you guys like making me do stuff, don’t you?”, Nakyoung says.

Yooyeon then turns to you, “Jisung-ah, can we talk for a second?”. You nod and walk to the other side of the bus with her to get some privacy. “What is it?”, you ask. Yooyeon rubs her forehead with a palm before speaking, “Dahyun-ie told me everything”. You signal to her to keep talking, so she does. “Will you be okay? Xinyu is also on this trip with you”, she asks. You take a deep breath before answering; “I’ll be fine. I’m planning to address it with her at some point during the trip”. Yooyeon gives you an encouraging smile and a fist bump. “Whatever decision you two come up with, try to make it easier for her, okay? She has a good heart, and I would hate to see her lose it”, she says. ”Oppa, where are you? We need to leave!”, Xinyu shouts from the other side of the bus. “That’s my cue”, you give Yooyeon a friendly hug, “I’ll see you on Monday, okay? I’ll treat you guys to lunch”.

You go back to where everyone was gathering and see that they’re getting on the bus one by one. You hold Nakyoung and Xinyu by their wrists to prevent them from getting on. “I’m counting on you two”, you say to them, “help me run the show, please”. They both give you a nod simultaneously, so you let them go and get on the bus with everyone. “Make sure nothing catches on fire when we’re away, okay? See you on Monday!”, you say to Yooyeon as you wave your goodbye, and she waves back with a smile. Once you are seated, the bus starts moving, thus marking the beginning of your last council initiation trip before graduating.

“We’re getting on the ferry, guys”, the co-driver says as the bus rolls onto the ship, “you can get off the bus if you want to. Just make sure you’re back in your seat in one hour”. After being given permission to get off, you walk to the upper deck to take in the sight of the strait. You lean against the railings and feel the fresh and relaxing breeze blowing at you. “Never knew how good it is to be on a ship. I wonder if mama and papa would be down for a cruise trip—for their anniversary, maybe? I should call them later”, you say to yourself

You close your eyes and savor the sense of freedom the sea is giving you, and you feel a hand on your back. “Hi, baby. Here for the wind as well?”, you say without looking. “I like how pet names escape your lips so naturally all the time”, the voice says. “Wait, that’s not Xinyu’s voice. That’s—“, you turn your head and see Dahyun in front of you. “Can I help you?”, you say, trying your best to stay composed. “You can, actually”, she says before pulling you away from the railings to hide behind a wall. “Stay still, please”, she tells you as she gets on her knees in front of you, “you know where this is going, don’t you?”. You can’t help but panic now, “Seo Dahyun, are you out of your mind? Xinyu will feed us to the sharks if she sees this”. “Please, oppa. Just this one time—Xinyu-unnie is busy with the other recruits right now”, she begs you.

You let out a deep sigh and start taking off your pants and boxers, piling them on your ankles. “Oh my God”, Dahyun exclaims, as she wraps her hand around your cock, “now I’m really envious of Xinyu”. You grit your teeth at the sensation, “that’s Xinyu-unnie to you”. “Fuck you”, she says before putting her lips around your cock. If Dahyun wasn’t on her knees with your cock in her mouth, you’d be offended and scold her, but she is, and you can’t think straight right now. “You better make this worthwhile, you slut”, you warn her. She removes your cock from her lips with a teasing smile, “keep the names for when you’re fucking me, oppa”, she says before continuing her work on your cock.

You’ve gotten a lot of heads before from your beloved, but Dahyun is doing an exceptional job right now: the way she’s licking the underside of your cock as her head moves along your shaft is different to how Xinyu usually does it. “This is a terrible time to think about Xinyu—fuck, I’m so sorry, my love”, you think to yourself. “This is the longest I’ve seen a guy last”, Dahyun says, taking a break from stuffing her face with your cock. “Are you going to finish this or what? If you can’t make me cum first try, you don’t deserve a second time”, you tease her. “Oh, I will, no need to worry about that”, Dahyun wipes her mouth before taking you in it again.

“You’ve had enough fun. Time to do it on my terms”, you say. You take her gloriously thick jet-black hair in your hand and start fucking her mouth deep. “Xinyu never gags, so you better not gag”, you provoke her—it’s not that Xinyu doesn’t gag at all, it’s just that she’s gotten more and more familiar your cock with every blowjob she’s done. You push the back of her head into your crotch and feel your tip hit the back of her throat. “Stay”, you command, and she does as you say (not that she has other options). After staying in that position for a few seconds, Dahyun starts gurgling loudly, so you show her some mercy and leave her mouth. Dahyun coughs and pants as she massages her neck, “holy shit, how does unnie do this all the time?”. “Because unlike you, she’s a good girl”, you then yank her hair and make her look up, “I’m gonna cum in your mouth and you’re gonna swallow it without letting a drop leak, is that clear?”. “Yes, oppa”, she says between pants. “Wrong fucking name”, you say sternly and yank her hair again. “Oh, fuck, my hair—yes, daddy”, she corrects herself.

You put your tip on her lips again and she opens her mouth obediently. “Be good”, you say as you start fucking her mouth harder and faster to chase your orgasm. You take it up a notch and pinch her nose shut as you fuck her face. Your brain starts wondering if you’re trying to make her your side slut, but that’s a question for later. For now, you’re aiming to shoot your load into her stomach. “I’m cumming, slut”, you say, as you release drop after drop after drop of cum into her mouth. The suddenness catches Dahyun off guard and makes her choke, but she tries her best to adhere to your command anyway.

You remove your cock from her mouth and see Dahyun swallow your cum in one gulp. “Good girl”, you praise her. You help her up to her feet and hug her, “let’s make sure no one knows this, yeah?”. “Yes, oppa”, she says, “I have a new idea, oppa”. You squint your eyes, expecting her to say something wild, “and that is?”. She looks at you straight in the eyes and utters her idea, “I can be your side girl, oppa”. You’re taken aback by her words, “what the fuck are you saying right now?”. She shrugs, “I figured since I can’t steal you from unnie, I’ll just be your side girl. You can come to me if Xinyu-unnie is unable to, um, please you”. The angel sitting on your right shoulder is yelling at you to say no, but the devil’s urge is stronger right now and you’re succumbing to it. “Sure, just make sure to keep this between us. Now let’s get out of here”, you say, feeling uneasy.

The 1-hour break flew by, and now you’re sitting on the bus again with Xinyu next to you. She leans her head on your shoulder and sighs, “where were you, oppa? I didn’t see you at all". Your eyes shake in nervousness, “I was sightseeing on the upper deck, baby. What about you?”. “Nakyoung-ie suggested that we should talk to the recruits and know them better considering who we are, but since you were away, I represented you and now I want to sleep”, she says with a yawn. You chuckle and pat her in the back, “that’s my girl. Get some sleep, baby. I’ll wake you up when we arrive”. “Your girl, huh? The one you just betrayed by getting a side chick? You’re fucking shitting me right now”, the angel insults you—you never knew an angel was capable of swearing, but you deserve it right now.

“Alright, guys; we’re here”, the co-driver announces. You tap Xinyu in the back a few times to wake her up. “Wake up, sweetie; we’ve arrived”, you say to her. “I wanna go home, oppa”, she says with a pout. “We’ll be home before you know it, love. Patience for now, please”, you persuade her. “I want your cock tonight”, she whispers to you, and you try your hardest to not blush (and get a boner).

You see the co-driver open the door, so you get up from your seat and get off the bus followed by Xinyu and everyone else. You ask everyone but Xinyu and Nakyoung to wait outside the resort complex while you go in and get the keys from the reception desk. “Good morning, miss. We’re from the Silicon Summit State University”, you say to the lady sitting at the desk. “Good morning to you as well. Please wait a moment”, she says as she opens the book in front of her, “I’ll get your keys so please have a seat”.

She returns to you after a few minutes with a bag filled with keycards. “Here are your keys. Have a good stay and please don’t mess anything up—the hall is ready for use, by the way”, she says. You take the bag from her and say your farewell before leaving the front office.

“Attention, please”, you say in front of your crowd, “find the roommates you want to share a room with and line up in front of me with your group so that I can give you a keycard”. They do as you say and make groups of 3 with their preferred roommates. One group after another lines up in front of you, and you give each group a keycard to their room until every group has one. Everyone walks away to find their rooms, leaving the three of you alone with no keys left. “Did you miscount?”, you turn to Nakyoung. “11 rooms for 33 people and 1 room for Professor Kim, no?”, she says. “33 people? You didn’t count us, you dummy”, Xinyu pinches Nakyoung’s cheeks. “Wait, wait—aaaah, I’m so sorry”, Nakyoung says as she tries to push Xinyu away. Xinyu lets go of Nakyoung’s cheeks and turns to you, “so what do we do, oppa?”. You dismiss their worry, “it’s fine. I’ll head back in there and ask for 2 more rooms for you two and myself—I’ll pay, don’t worry”.

“Excuse me, miss”, you say to the lady again, “my friend miscounted how many people we have in the group, so now we need 2 more rooms. I sincerely hope you have some vacant ones right now”. She nods and fiddles with the computer in front of her, “we have 6 empty rooms right now and 2 of them are on opposite ends of the same corridor”. You sigh in relief, “I’ll take that 2, please”. She nods again, “sure, the previous 11 have been paid in full so you only need to pay 2”. She then tells you the sum and you hand her your card. “What about the breakfast and dinner buffet, miss?”, you ask as you enter your PIN. “No worries, I’ll tell the other staff members about the situation so that you can sit and eat with everyone”, she says as she hands your card back to you.

“Hey, girls”, you call out to Xinyu and Nakyoung, who then walk up to you. “Here’s your card. I hope you don’t mind sharing a room with Xinyu”, you hand Nakyoung a keycard. Xinyu looks at you in surprise, “I’m not sleeping with you?”. You shake your head, “you’re not. We don’t want the others to libel us”. Xinyu takes the card from your hand, “I’m so sorry, oppa. I’ll make it up to you one day”. “Don’t worry about it”, you pet her head, “now let’s get some rest before we start doing stuff, okay?”.

You walk with Xinyu and Nakyoung to find your rooms and get in as soon as you find it. “I’ll see you in 2 hours”, you say before closing the door behind you. You drop your bag on the bed and feel your phone vibrating in your pocket.

[🍒]

You’re alone, aren’t you?

Wanna fuck my face again?

[👑]

How did you know?

No, not in the mood

[🍒]

Curious much?

Just tell me if you want to cum

ㅋㅋㅋ

“I need to fuck some obedience into this girl, don’t I?”, you say with a sigh after. You throw your phone on the bed and start opening your back to get some shower supplies. You don’t like the soap and shampoo they offer at hotels and resorts because they don’t make foam. You then head to the bathroom to get a quick shower to refresh yourself after the long ride and the blowjob Dahyun gave you on the ferry.

The 2 hours are up, and now it’s time to go to the hall to officially start the initiation trip. You meet Xinyu and Nakyoung outside the hall, and Xinyu immediately runs to you and hugs you. “I miss you”, she says with a sad tone. “Cutie, it’s only been 2 hours”, you chuckle, “we’ve been apart for longer before”. “Yes, but not when we’re in the middle of nowhere”, she defends herself. You see Nakyoung roll her eyes, “oh, c’mon. 2 hours without oppa won’t kill you, and we’re not in the middle of nowhere, damn it”. Xinyu lets go of the hug to scold Nakyoung, but you pull her back into the hug by her wrist. “Calm down, please. This isn’t my apartment, let’s not make a scene here”. After taking a few seconds to calm down, you drag the two girls into the hall.

“Good afternoon, everybody”, you greet the council members, and they immediately look up from their phones. “Some of you have done this before while some others haven’t, but please allow me to welcome you all the same. I understand that this initiation trip might look or feel pointless to some of you, but it’s important to see this as an opportunity to get to know everyone better. You guys will spend a lot of time working with each other on projects, and that includes me, the vice president, and secretary”, you say and get collective nods as a reply.

“Now, let’s start by introducing ourselves, starting with me. My name is Jung Jisung. I was born in 2001, so this is my last dance both in the council and university. It has been an honor to be the president of the council, and I look forward to working with you guys in my last year—also, it’s okay if you find my title to be weird or cringe; I cringe when I hear people say that title out loud as well. Feel free to call me anything but sunbaenim, please”, you end your introduction with a small bow, “I’ll let those two girls introduce themselves”. Nakyoung pushes Xinyu to go first, so she takes a spot next to your right to introduce herself. “Hello, everyone. My name is Zhou Xinyu, born in 2002 in China. I was Jisung-oppa’s running mate back then and now I’m the vice president. I look forward to working with you guys as well”, she says. There’s nowhere Nakyoung can hide now, so she steps up to introduce herself. “Hi, hi”, she starts, “I’m Kim Nakyoung. I was also born in 2002 but unlike her, I was born in South Korea. Officially, I’m the secretary of the council but outside the office hours, I follow these two around like a third wheel”.

“Thank you, you two. Aside from the three of us, we also have a treasurer named Park Jaehwan, but he’s currently hospitalized for Dengue fever. In case you didn’t know, we also have governors who lead their own councils on the faculty level, and you’ll meet them soon as we collaborate for projects like community service”, you say, “now, let’s continue the train and have everyone introduce themselves”. At your words, Dahyun runs to the front with Chaeyeon behind her. “Hellooo!”, she says excitedly, “my name is Seo Dahyun but you can call me Soda. I was born in 2003 in Busan. I look forward to making memories with you guys”. You chuckle in amusement, “thank you, Dahyun-ah. Next person, please”. “Hi, hi, hello”, Chaeyeon says while waving, “I’m Kim Chaeyeon, born in 2004. I also look forward to making memories with you guys”. “Thank you, you two. Ministers, it’s your turn to shine now—you don’t want to lose out to these two, do you?”, Nakyoung says.

Like a real government, you also have a handful of ministers in your council. They are basically group leaders who have a handful of council members working with them and are usually tasked with coming up with projects and helping run things at the university level and sometimes the faculty level as well. In fact, one of them is coming up to introduce herself right now. “Hiiiiii”, she drags out her greeting in excitement, “my name is Park Aecha and I’m currently the minister of public relations. I was born in 2003 in Seoul and Park Jaehwan, the treasurer that Jisung-oppa mentioned earlier, is my older brother—please pray for him, by the way. Welcome to the council, guys!”.

As another minister walks up, Aecha leaves her spot to sit down again, but you pull her to the side first. “Aecha-yah, if you want to leave first, just say the word. We’re not holding you hostage here”, you say to her. “Thank you, oppa. I’m planning to leave tomorrow afternoon after the interviews, if that’s okay with you and the two girls. Only the three of you matter to me”, she says. “I guarantee you that we’re 1000% okay with that. If you hear anyone say otherwise, just tell me who and we’ll throw them into the strait”, you assure her. Aecha smiles and nods before leaving you to head back to her seat.

“Thank you for introducing yourselves, everyone”, Nakyoung says, “we will take a break for 2 more hours before gathering here again for a leadership and professional ethics class led by Professor Kim Taeyeon—we have a lot of down time today but believe me when I say that you should enjoy it as much as you can”. She looks in your direction, so you give her a nod; “dis-missed!”, she says with a voice crack, provoking a collective giggle from the crowd. “Good job, Nakyoung-ah”, you say to her. “Aaaaaah, why did my voice crack, oppaaaa”, she complains to you as she smacks you in the chest lightly. “It’s okay, happens to the best of us”, you chuckle as you pat her back. You then pull Xinyu in for a quick kiss. “I’ll see you girls in 2 hours; I want to sleep a bit—wake me up if I oversleep, okay?”.

You text Dahyun as soon as you enter your room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

[👑]

To my room, please

Door isn’t locked

Make sure no one sees you

[🍒]

On my way xoxo

You lay in bed after seeing her response and immediately hear the door swing open and slam shut. “That was quick”, you say when you see Dahyun in your room. “My room is right across from yours, oppa”, she confesses. “Huh, no wonder you knew where my room is”, you say. “Mhmm. Now, what can I do for you?”, she asks. You get up from the bed and tell her your wish, “I want you to take everything off—now”. She starts by taking off her short black cardigan that’s held together with just one button, revealing the sports bra she has underneath it; “that’s cute”, you comment. She then unbuttons her jeans and take them off, thus leaving her only in her sports bra and panties.

“Come here, I’ll finish the job for you”, you say to her. Dahyun then gets closer to you, “yes, daddy”. You pull the sports bra over her head and toss it somewhere without looking before kneeling to take off her panties. “I like that you keep it clean and shaved. Keep doing it, okay?”, you praise her. “Yes, da—oh, God, yes”, her words are cut off when she feels your tongue on her pussy. You yank her legs apart even more so that you can have more space to move your head closer to her pussy. You lick and suck her clit, forcing Dahyun to cover her mouth to muffle her moans. “Oppa, please”, she begs with a low voice, “please, that’s so good”. You want to make her cum to repay her “kindness” on the ferry, so you stick two fingers into her pussy without letting up the stimulations on her clit.

“I’m-I’m so close—please, oppa, please”, Dahyun says between muffled moans. You finger-fuck her pussy faster and keep licking her clit like it was the most delicious ice cream ever. “O-oppa, hug me, please”, she begs. So, you stand up and hug her as she requests. She hugs you tightly and muffles her scream by biting your shoulder, and you hear splashes on the floor—"she’s squirting, that’s fun”, you think to yourself. Dahyun immediately becomes limp in your arms, so you hold her to make sure she doesn't fall.

“I-I—fuck—haven’t cum that hard in so long”, Dahyun says with heavy pants, “thank you so much, oppa. I-I love you”. You lift her and put her in bed before leaving to get a towel and some water. “Here, have a drink, sweetie”, you say as you guide the bottle to her mouth. You let her hold the bottle herself and walk to the small puddle to clean it. “I’ll get back to you in a minute, okay?”, you say as you walk to the bathroom after cleaning the little mess.

“I’m guessing it’s my turn to make you cum?”, she weakly says. You put on a gentle smile, one that you usually show to Xinyu. “No, sweetie, it’s not. I just wanted to repay your kindness”, you peck her in the forehead, “I love you, baby”. She wipes a stray tear on her cheek, “but I’m just your side girl. Are you sure you want to say that?”. You take her hands and pull her into a hug, “yes, I am”. “Finally accepting her as your side chick, huh? Splendid job, son”, the devil praises you. You shake your head lightly to rid his voice from your brain and focus on the girl in your arms. “I’m so sorry but you need to leave soon, darling. Make sure no one sees you, okay?”, you peck the top of her head apologetically.

You help her put on her clothes, starting from her panties. Before you give her the sports bra back, you quickly nibble her tits; “soft and perky, exactly my favorites”, you comment. Dahyun blushes as she tries to put on her sports bra; “tha-thank you, oppa. I know they’re not as big—“. You cut her off by giving her a peck on the lips, “what’s the point of comparing yourself with others, sweetie?”. Dahyun’s cheeks get even redder at your words, “oh, how sweet. Xinyu-unnie must be—oh, fuck”. You cut her off again with a squeeze in the neck, “say her name one more time, I fucking dare you”. You let go of her neck right away and clarifies to her, “I can be both sweet and mean at any given moment. It just depends on how you act around me. Are we clear?”. She nods in understanding, so you hand her jeans back and she puts them on right away. “I like how you dress, sweetie. Dress like this when we’re together, please”, you say as she puts on her cardigan. After making sure that she’s ready to go, you give her a quick kiss on the lips and let her go back to her room. “Make sure no one knows about this, okay?”, you say as Dahyun leaves the room and closes the door behind her.

You take a glance at your watch and see that you have around 90 minutes before you need to go to the hall again. You decide to take a nap as planned until you either wake up from the alarm or a flurry of missed calls from Xinyu. “What are we becoming, Seo Dahyun?”, you question yourself, “oh, God, Xinyu would be so hurt if she finds out about this; she was my first and now I’m two-timing her—fuck, I’m so damn stupid”.

You wake up before the alarm rings, 20 minutes to spare before the session starts. You decide to go to the hall right away after texting Xinyu to tell her that you’re heading there first. You see Professor Kim Taeyeon walking to the hall as well, looking mad attractive as ever. “Professor Kim”, you greet her simply. “Hi, sweetie”, she says with a warm smile―she has a habit of calling her favorite students with pet names, and you entered her list after making the dean’s list thrice in a row. “You look like you have a lot going on. You can tell me, sweetie; you know I don’t judge”, she says as the both of you enter the hall. You picture in your head how hurt Xinyu would be if she finds out that you’re cheating, and the sting of guilt makes you shed a tear. “I, uh, I fucked up, professor”, you confess with tears on your cheeks, “I betrayed Xinyu terribly”. “Let’s sit down before we continue, okay?”, she takes your hand and drags you to sit down.

She makes you sit in front of her, “go on, please”. You decide not to hide anything from her because you trust her that much. “There’s this girl that has been chasing me even though she knows I’m dating Xinyu, and instead of addressing it with Xinyu and pushing her away, my dumb ass gave her the opportunity so now she’s my side chick—excuse my language, professor”, you confess teary-eyed while looking down in shame. Professor Kim sighs, and you figure that she’s disappointed in you. “I hope those tears are coming from a place of guilt”, she says. You nod, “Xinyu would be so hurt if she finds out, and I wouldn’t be able to make it up to her no matter what”. “Humor me with a question, Jisung-ah: which one is more important: your beloved Zhou Xinyu, who has been with you through storms and tranquility, or this new side chick—what’s her name, by the way?”. “Seo Dahyun, professor”, you say. “Seo Dahyun? The freshman?”, she questions you. “You know her, madam?”, you look up to her. She sighs again, “I’ve met her parents before, and I had been told that you invested in them”. You nod again, “my family’s treasurer did it for me, so I don’t know the details”.

She takes your hand in hers and rubs the back of it softly, “would you please answer my question?”. You take a deep breath to recall the question before giving her your answer, “Xinyu is far more important to me than her, professor; she’s been by my side through everything”. She nods in understanding, “we all make mistakes, son—sometimes more regrettable than we’d like to admit, but what matters is how you can learn from it and become a better person”. “Your advice, madam?”, you ask her. It’s now the professor’s turn to take a deep breath, “you said that Xinyu is more important, so let Dahyun-ie go, Jisung-ah. Xinyu deserves the best of you while Dahyun-ie deserves much better than to be someone’s side chick”.

“Oppa!”, Xinyu shouts excitedly when she enters the hall, “oh, I’m sorry—hello, professor”. ��Hi, darling”, Professor Kim says with a smile, “welcome”. Xinyu approaches the two of you and then turns to Professor Kim, “why is oppa crying, professor?”. Professor Kim gestures to Xinyu to sit down. “He had a lot in his mind but couldn’t bring himself to talk to you, so he shared some of them with me instead”, she says, “tell me, darling: do you love your president-oppa here?”. Xinyu looks at you and Professor Kim in confusion, “I do, professor. I love him with my entire being”. Professor Kim looks at you with a motherly smile, “see, son? Xinyu loves you as much as you love her. What else is there to doubt?”. Professor Kim then stands up from her seat to prepare for the class, “I’ll give you some space to talk, okay?”.

Xinyu pulls you to your feet and hugs you tautly, “oppa, what is she talking about? Are you okay?”. “I’m okay, sweetie. I’m-I’m so sorry”, you say in a shaky voice, “my mind was full of bullshit, but I didn’t want to bother you with them”. Xinyu sheds a tear of her own after hearing your words, “but-but why not, oppa? Am I not your girlfriend? You can talk to me about your worries, you know”. You pull away from the hug and wipe her tears, “I just couldn’t muster up the courage to talk to you about it, baby. You already have a lot to worry about so I just wanted to be the shoulder you can lean on”. Xinyu puts her forehead on yours, “I’m always here for you, oppa, the same way you’re always here for me”. You nod and peck her forehead, “I love you, darling. I’m sorry for making you worried. Now let’s calm down, okay? People will be here soon”.

You are holding hands with Xinyu during the session, and time flies by like it was nothing. Professor Kim is now offering advice to people who want it, and people start raising their hands. She tells each of them what they need to hear no matter how cold it might sound. “We all make mistakes in our lives, and that’s okay”, she says, repeating her advice for you from earlier, “what’s important is how you deal with it, learn from it, and become a better person after, because falling in the same hole twice is simply foolish. I know I do not look and act like a wise person all the time, but this is what I’ve learned throughout my life—I’ve been in your shoes, but you haven’t been in mine”. You squeeze Xinyu’s hand after hearing the professor’s advice. “I promise I’ll keep improving and become a better person for us, love. You deserve the best of me the same way I deserve the best of you”, you whisper to her. “I love you, oppa”, she whispers back, as if it wasn’t clear as day already.

When you turn to Professor Kim again, you see that she’s smiling at you and Xinyu before turning back to the audience. “Does anyone have any more questions?”, she asks, but no one raises their hand. “One more thing before we wrap things up, ladies and gents: remember to always be honest with yourself and those you love. Tell them you love them and are grateful for them”, she adds, “we come and go like on the freeway, so hold them close while you can”. You look down to process the things she just said, trying not to cry in front of the whole council as you feel like a revelation has been brought to you, courtesy of the one and only Professor Kim Taeyeon. “You may go now”, the professor dismisses the crowd, “I’ll see you back at campus in a few days. Good evening”.

Everyone but Xinyu and Professor Kim has left the hall to do whatever, leaving the three of you in the room. “Take care of each other, will you? I want to see you two live a good life—together, hopefully”, she says. “Thank you, professor. Have a safe flight back”, Xinyu says with a respectful bow. The professor gives her a smile and starts walking away, giving space for you two to have a little catch-up.

You jump up from your seat and pull Xinyu into a passionate kiss. “Thank you for being in my life, baby”, you say after breaking the kiss, “I will do my best to be the best boyfriend for you”. “Oppa, I’m thankful for you as well, you know”, she says in such a calm manner that you rarely hear (because she’s energetic and loud most of the time) combined with a smile that’s as warm as the morning sun, “I’d like to make a promise as well, love: I promise to always be by your side through thick and thin and be the beautiful and graceful girlfriend that you deserve—do you know why, baby?”. You shake your head to encourage her to continue and see where this is going, “because I love you so much, honey, and I sincerely ask you to never leave me because I can’t picture myself alone without you—I’ve never been selfish before, so please allow me to be selfish just this one time”. Xinyu very rarely uses pet names with you, only referring to you as “oppa” (or “daddy” when you two are in bed), so the words she’s saying are hitting you harder than ever, working wonders to convince you to cut ties with Dahyun. The professor was right: these two girls deserve the best life has to offer, and you can’t cater to both at the same time without hurting one of them.

You take her hand with a smile and drag her to leave the hall. “Baby, can you come to my room, please?”, you ask her. “For what reason, Mr. President?”, she says, smirking. You turn the gears in your head to come up with an answer. “You want me to stay by your side, yeah? I’ll do you one better”, you lean in so you can whisper in her ear, “how about I stay inside you instead, baby, hm?”. Xinyu turns away to hide her tomato cheeks. “Oh, my fucking—oppaaaa, what are you saying right noooow? Fuck me, are you even listening to yourself, oppa?”, she says, flustered. You double down and tease Xinyu more. “Fuck you? Yeah, that’s the plan; I’ll be cumming inside you as well”, you say with a naughty smirk. “Aaaaah, why are you like this, oppaaaa”, Xinyu whines, her blush is obvious for anyone to see. You chuckle in amusement, “alright, baby, that’s enough playing around. Now, would you kindly follow me to my room?”.

You decide to call Nakyoung to ask about today’s schedule before jumping into the action. “Nakyoung-ah”, you say as soon as she picks up, “where are you?”. “I’m in my room. I saw that you guys were busy, so I left first”, she says. “Yeah, it’s fine. We had some personal things we needed to address with each other”, you explain, “we don’t have anything important after this, do we? Just the dinner?”. “What do you mean ‘just the dinner?’ We’ll be asking them to make an essay on council project ideas before dinner, remember?”, she says. “Oh, right”, you say, “anyway, we’re skipping dinner, so if anyone asks, tell them we need some time alone and that we’re sorry. We’ll go over their essays with the ministers tomorrow morning”. “Yeah, I can do that”, Nakyoung agrees to your request, “are you guys okay, though? I saw both of you bawl your eyes out earlier. You’re not breaking up, are you?”. Xinyu takes the phone from your hand, “no, we’re not breaking up. In fact, we’ll be solidifying our relationship tonight”. You hear Nakyoung laugh over the phone, “sure, girl, whatever you say—just keep it down when you do it, ‘kay? Have fun!”.

Fun is exactly what you’re aiming for tonight, and while Xinyu knows that as well, you don’t want to jump to it right away. “Baby girl”, you softly call out to her, “I’m not horny for the sake of it, but I do want to show you how much I love you and my options are limited right now”. Xinyu rubs your cheek with her thumb gently, “Oh, is that so? Show me then, oppa, and I’ll show you my love as well”.

Usually, you start by taking off Xinyu’s clothes but this time, you decide to switch it up and take off yours first. “Is it just me or are those biceps bigger?”, Xinyu comments. You flex in front of her, “I don’t know, I haven’t noticed anything yet”. Xinyu’s eyes move down to your cock, “that looks bigger too”. You chuckle, “there’s no need to inflate my ego, love”. “Inflate your—no, I’m dead serious!”, she says as she moves to hold your cock, “you will stretch me for sure”.

Snicker as you pull Xinyu up to her feet to kiss her. “I love you, baby, and I don’t care if I sound like a broken record because I mean it every time”. Xinyu furrows her eyebrows as she tries to remember something. “Wait, that’s my line from when I was bitching about my period, no?”, she crosses her arms and pouts, “apologize for stealing my line or I’m not letting you in my pants—don’t forget the pet name”. “I’m sorry for stealing your line, baby—also, you weren’t bitching; you were in real pain”, you say, adhering to her demand, “can I get in your pants now?”. Xinyu shoves you softly, “sit on the bed and watch me strip”.

Xinyu takes a few steps back and takes off her T-shirt, revealing her tits that’s covered with a simple white bra. You start stroking your cock at the sight, and Xinyu throws her T-shirt at you, “impatient, hm? I like it; makes me feel wanted and beautiful, you know?”. You groan after a particular stroke, “I always want you, beautiful—respectfully”. Xinyu shakes her head as she unbuttons her jeans and pull them down, “you and your words, oppa”.

The sight of Xinyu in her underwear (or naked—just so we’re clear) never gets old for you; “it has to be illegal to be this hot”, you utter while mindlessly stroking your cock. “I can’t get these off, oppa. Wanna help?”, she teases. You’ve never acted so quickly at anyone’s words before, as you jump off the bed and approach her; “woah, relax, oppa”, Xinyu comments. “I don’t know what that word means”, you say, possessed by lust. You make quick work of her bra and panties and throw them to God-knows-where. You then pull her in for a kiss, your tongue wrestling hers like it was AEW.

Xinyu breaks the kiss after a minute so that she can breathe. “Fuck, baby, I want you so bad right now”, you say with a deep, lustful voice. “Just—fuck—just take me already, oppa. I can’t fucking wait anymore”, she says, her breath heavy from the lust. You carry Xinyu to the bed and make her take the bottom position. “Oppa, please, let’s start already—OH”, Xinyu covers her mouth tightly as you immediately ram your cock into her pussy and start fucking her deep. “You’re stretching me, you’re stretching me”, she chants softly in your ear after biting you on the shoulder. You’re tempted to leave a hickey (or a dozen), but you don’t want people to know that you’re having sex, so you leave her neck and chest alone.

Xinyu almost lets out a loud moan, but you squeeze her neck just in time before she does. “I’m sorry, love, but we can’t afford to get caught”, you say to her. “You-you—just cover my mouth, don’t cho-choke me”, she says with troubled breath. You let her neck go and retreat from her exceptionally wet pussy. “On your stomach, please”, you say, “moan into the pillow”. Xinyu nods and rolls over onto her stomach, and you lift her ass up to get a better angle to bang her. After making sure that her face is pressed into the pillow, you start fucking her again, harder this time. You can’t hear what Xinyu’s saying right now, but that’s the whole point of using the pillow.

As you keep fucking her from behind, her asshole keeps peeking from behind her cheeks, and your cock, which has taken over your brain as an organ of thoughts, urges you to do something about it. You take your index finger and touch Xinyu’s rear entrance, and she turns to look at you instantly. “Don’t hurt me, please. I’ve never put anything in there, oppa”, she says. You nod, “do you consent?”. Xinyu gives you a little nod, so you start pushing your finger into her forbidden hole and it forces Xinyu to bite the pillow. “Ngh, you-you’re stretching me, oppa”, she says, and you’re not sure if her expression is that of someone in pain. “Are you okay, baby? Do you want me to pull it out?”, you ask her softly despite your pants. “I-I think I’m fine—try putting in another finger gently”, she says.

You stop your thrusts to focus on the task at hand and put your middle finger in her ass as gently as possible. You hear Xinyu make some sound, but you maintain your concentration and patience to work on her asshole, until her ass finally gives way for your fingers. “S-so full”, she says, “is this what—hngh, God—anal feels like?”. You shake your head in cluelessness, “can I go again, baby?”. “Only if you promise to not your move fingers as you fuck me”, she says. “Of course, love”, you say

You notice as you’re fucking her again that her pussy keeps squeezing your cock randomly and you suspect that she’s close. “Fuck, you’re so tight, princess”, you praise her as you up the pace. “I’m close, oppa; make me cum, please”, she says, confirming your suspicion. Pull out your fingers so that you only need to concentrate on one thing, which is fucking her in the pussy with your cock; “the ass play can wait”, you think to yourself.

“Oppa, I’m cumming; pull out for a second, please”, she utters, so you do as she asks and pull out. You see Xinyu scream into the pillow as you feel her juice hit you in the pelvis area. You wait until she’s done squirting before fucking her again. “I know you’re still sensitive, but I can’t wait. I’m sorry”, you say to her. Xinyu’s moans are getting worryingly loud, so you put a hand on the back of her head to make sure the pillow stifles the sound.

You feel your cock leak in her pussy, and you’re reminded that you haven’t asked if it’s okay to cum inside. “Darling, is it safe today?”, you ask her. “I’ve been taking pills since after my last period, oppa”, she says. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask earlier”, you apologize to her, “I’m cumming inside you, okay, love?”. A few pumps later, you sense that you’re about to bust, so you lodge your cock as deep as you can in her pussy and open the valves. “Stay inside, oppa”, Xinyu says weakly, “God, so warm every time”.

You’ve spent your entire vigor fucking Xinyu, so now you feel weak. “Xinyu-yah, can I pull out now?”, you ask her. “You can, but before you do”, she says, “I want you to take a video of my pussy as your cum drips out of me, oppa”. You’re bewildered by her request, “can I ask why?”. “You’ve said multiple times how hot it looks but I don’t know what it looks like, and now I’m curious”, she answers. You look around the room, “I mean, sure, but where is my phone?”.

Thankfully (and conveniently enough), your phone is on the bedside table under the lamp, within arm’s reach. You open the camera app and switch to video mode, “I’m pulling out, baby”. You aim the camera at your cock as you’re pulling out, and it only occurs to you now how big of a cock it looks, especially on camera; no wonder Xinyu was intimidated and hesitant at first. After your whole shaft is out, you move your aim to record her pussy and wait until your cum starts spilling out of her. “Oh, that’s so thick actually”, you comment as you see your cum escape her pussy. “Yeah, your cum is always thick”, Xinyu replies, “now mute the audio and send it to me”. You fiddle with your phone for a moment and notify her that it’s been done, and Xinyu drops her waist onto the bed to rest.

“You and I are not finished yet, miss vice president”, you say as you lift and carry her on your shoulder. “You want to go again, oppa? You want to make me scream my lungs out this time?”, she says—Xinyu has this pure, innocent girl façade but she’s quite naughty actually. You chuckle, “I’m spent, love. What I meant is I want to help you clean up—stop being so perverted all the time, hon, damn”. “Aaah, oppa, why are you teasing me like that? It’s not my fault you’re so good at sex”, she complains while smacking your back playfully.

You make her sit on the toilet and kneel in front of her. “I’m good at sex because of you, love. You’re my first so I hadn’t the slightest clue about sex back then, but you patiently helped and guided me and here we are”, you tell her. You always mean what you say—well, 90% of the time—so Xinyu knows without a shadow of a doubt that your words are sincere. “You just fucked my brains out and now you’re talking like this, oppa?”, Xinyu says. She then takes a breath and starts her rant: “this is why I want to stay by your side, oppa. Imagine what it would be like for me if you left and then I got with someone else and because I’ve been so conditioned to hearing your sincerity and honesty, I couldn’t tell if my boyfriend was lying, and then—". You cut off her train of words with a kiss. “I understand, love. I want to stay with you as much as you want to stay with me—cross my heart”, you say to her with a smile. “There you go, son”, the angel makes a return and commends you, “you’ve finally remembered how important she is to you”.

You stand up and pull her into the shower, and then Xinyu pulls you into another kiss. “Your cock is poking me”, she giggles, “are you actually still horny? Want me to suck you?”. ‘Tis your turn to chuckle, “how can I not have a boner when you’re naked in front of me?”. She turns away from you and puts her hands on the wall, “One day, I’ll be naked for you 24/7 and just let you do whatever to me: play with my tits, cum on my face, shove your cock down my throat, et cetera”. You feel a rush of excitement in your head instantly, “um, can we do that next weekend?”. She lets out a laugh, “you can’t have enough of me ever, can you?”.

“No”, you say firmly, “I can’t. You’re just too hot”.

#triples smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader smut #male reader

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morgluvsconnie · 5 months ago

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BOUND, c.springer

chap.9 | fluff :) … | chap.8

you weren’t gonna explain yourself.

if connie didn’t wanna hear you out, even after the countless calls and texts, you weren’t gonna explain yourself.

or try.

if what you had was over, then so be it. it would be over.

you curled your hair in the mirror, staring at yourself with low, sleepy eyes. but lord knows you were wide awake.

you promised yourself that the party you went to last night was the last one you were going to. but this time, you didn’t know anyone at the party you were about to go to.

in fact, it was on the other side of town.

you glossed your lips, almost barely being able to recognize yourself in the mirror. unless that was just the tipsy feeling you had.

maybe driving yourself wasn’t the best option, but you weren’t drunk.

yeah, you might’ve shed a few tears, or cried, but that didn’t change tonight. you wish you didn’t feel the need to get out tonight, at least just one more time.

but when you looked at your outfit in your mirror, somebody other than you had to see it. a few people other than you had to see it.

you grabbed your car keys and your phone, glancing around to see if you left something. lastly, you grabbed your blunt and your lighter, walking out of your room and down the stairs.

it was late, and you weren’t planning on going home early. you didn’t even tell mikasa or sasha about your whereabouts or the party.

they were out at the regular parties they always went to. connie was probably there too, probably telling them about the dumb ass video reiner sent him. with your luck, it’s probably out already. maybe everyone’s talking about.

nothing a blunt cant fix, as you flicked the ash in your cars ashtray, you drove down the road. you turned your music up, your eyes falling low again as you put your blunt out for now.

the ride was about 15 minutes, as you parked outside of the house and adjusted your rear view to look at yourself a little before turning your car off and stepping out, pulling your skirt down and your stockings up.

you put your phone in your skirt pocket and walked towards the house. though you’ve never been here, you felt less anxious than you did when going into houses you were familiar with.

as the music filled your ears, you felt some eyes on you, some eyes on spots you wouldn’t let any of these people see.

you looked around, moving steadily past people as you tried your best to find where the kitchen was. “you need help?” you heard someone say from behind you. you turned around and looked at the girl. “sure.” you muttered, her grabbing your hand and leading you to the kitchen.

there were people making out, people flirting, drunk, everything. just as there were at any other party. you grabbed a drink out of the cooler, shaking the ice off your hand before opening it, taking a long sip.

“you must be new here?” the girl leaned on the counter, looking at you. you glanced at her and shrugged. “if you haven’t seen me around, i’m new.”

she hummed. “i’m hitch.”

“y/n.” you replied.

“oh, you’re the girl everyone talks about. you dated reiner, right?” she raised an eyebrow while sipping from her cup. you sucked your tongue from the taste of alcohol. “no. where the boys at?” you looked around.

“if you really wanna know, you might wanna go outside.” she pointed towards a glass door. “thanks.” you took another sip from your bottle as you made your way towards the back door.

as you left the house, you looked around for your next target. you were already feeling a little tipsy, considering you’d already had a few drinks before doing your makeup at home.

“hey.” you mumbled, stumbling your way to the nearest good looking guy. he looked you up and down. “‘sup.”

“you got a girlfriend?” you looked up at him, your hand on his chest.

“not that i know of.”

okay player.

your hand slid down to his stomach, you feeling his body underneath his shirt. “you’re so strong.” you glanced down, tracing his abs. “you think you can pick me up?” you tilted your head.

“hold your arms out.” the guy smiled, you doing exactly as he said. as he grabbed you, picking you up and putting you back down without any struggle, as if you were a feather. you giggled and put your hand on your hip, taking a sip from your drink. his hands rested on your waist.

“i like you. what’s your name?”

“jean. yours?”

“y/n.” you smiled a little.

jean slightly frowned before double taking behind you. a confused look washed over your face as you looked back.

you were staring into the eyes of connie, sitting on an outdoor sofa with a girl sitting beside him. you saw him look at jean with a bored look before replying to whatever the girl was telling him and looking back at you.

seemingly just trying to see how your flirting was gonna turn out.

you turned back around towards jean. “what?”

jean pursed his lips together. “that’s my homeboy.” he looked back down at you. you felt his hands loosen from your waist, but he didn’t let go.

he didn’t want to.

“so.” you furrowed your eyebrows, your hand moving up to run through his hair. “he’s a bad person.” you muttered, jean staring into your eyes.

“fuck…” he whispered, scanning your body. “is that a yes?” you grinned before slowly pulling him into a kiss, wrapping your other arm around him.

his hands tightened against your waist again, pulling you closer as his lips trailed down your neck, softly kissing it.

“you smell so good. you know that?” jean muttered, kissing you again. “i’m really not s’posed to be doing this.” he pulled away from you. “nobody should tell you what you can and cant do.” you rubbed his face.

“yeah, but that’s my homeboy. it’s like breaking the code.” he muttered, eyes rested comfortably on yours. “that’s stupid.” you rubbed your lipgloss in as you rubbed your lips together. jean smacked his lips as he glanced to the side, hesitant, trying his best not to look over at connie.

“okay then.” you smiled, finishing the rest of your drink and giving him the empty bottle. you turned the opposite way, standing on one leg to take off your fur boots. you took off your second one and threw them to the furthest dry spot from the pool.

you untied your corset, taking it off, showing your black bra, laced as always, but unable to see anything you didn’t want anyone seeing.

same with your skirt, the matching set underneath your outfit being exposed to everyone. but so what? you were sexy. everyone should know it. you just hoped the glue that was keeping your lace on your head was strong enough to hold the wig.

all eyes were on you as you made your way towards the pool, not giving it a second thought before diving in, opening your eyes under water despite the burning sensation as you came up, looking around as everyone stared at you in awe.

you were too drunk to care, really.

as you softly kicked your feet, floating on your back, you closed your eyes, letting the muffled music take over your mind while resting, pushing yourself away from the side of the pool with your feet.

as you opened your eyes, everyone surrounded the pool, some people just enjoying their time in it.

you saw connie standing at the end of it, his hands in his pocket while he narrowed his eyes at you.

‘get out.’ he mouthed, looking around at the amount of people who’s attention was specifically on you, despite the few others in the pool. you laughed at him before flipping backwards under the water, staying under there for a few seconds, waving at the girls who were doing the same as you.

as you came back up, you caught your breath, making your way to the steps, getting out. connie sighed, going to the grass, grabbing your things and a towel. “come on.” he muttered, not even trying to make conversation with you.

“whatttt?” you slurred as connie walked back towards the house. he stayed silent. before he stepped in the house, you pulled away from him.

he looked back at you with those same eyes he always looked at you with, since that one night. you didn’t remember that though. you weren’t even thinking about that, the alcohol was a little bit too much.

“the floors gonna be… cold.” you mumbled and pointed to the floor of the house in between a hiccup. connie was gonna say something, but decided to just be quiet. “just get on my back.” he mumbled, rolling his eyes.

you hopped on his back and he walked through the house. you’d noticed you didn’t even take your stockings off before you got in the pool, making you laugh a little, hiccuping again.

as connie made his way upstairs, ignoring the fact that his clothes were now almost soaked, he went to a bedroom, closing and locking the door behind you, throwing you off his back and on the bed, tossing your things beside you.

you hiccuped once again, laughing for a second, looking at connie as he took his hoodie off, looking at the back of it, huffing and putting it on the bed.

you looked at the towel he gave you while you were outside, grabbing it and drying yourself off quietly, hiccups being the only thing filling the silence. you were only silent because you were drunk. he was silent because he had no idea what to say.

it seemed like tension, but it was more of awkwardness than that.

connie stared at you, rubbing his forehead and closing his eyes before opening them again. he licked the inside of his cheek, his gaze moving to the ground.

you grabbed connie’s hoodie, throwing it over yourself, not realizing he really didn’t put that there for you. but he didn’t mind.

squeezing the water out of your hair with the towel, your boots were the only thing that probably wouldn’t be soaked if you put them back on, so that’s exactly what you did.

you didn’t even bother putting your skirt back on, connie’s hoodie basically covering your panties as you pulled the bottom of it over your thighs.

the whole time, you avoided eye contact, until you got finished, sighing and looking up at him with your lazy eyes, one of your lashes hanging on by a thread. connie reached for it, pulling it off, slowly pulling the other one off and giving them to you.

“you got it out?” he asked, looking back at you.

“what?” you slowly blinked.

“yo revenge? it’s out, right?” he questioned again.

you looked at the ground and shook your head ‘no’. connie pursed his lips together and scratched his head. “well it is now. you ready to go?” he shook his head, grabbing his keys from his pockets.

“i got my car.” you stood up, immediately stumbling over back on the bed. connie stared at you. “you drunk. and high.” he rested his hands on the dresser behind him.

“ion wanna talk to you.” you slurred, glancing up at him, as if you were scared to make eye contact anymore.

“ian holding no gun to yo head.” connie shrugged, twisting his earring as he stared down at you. “why you acting like… we don’t hate each other right now?” you slurred again, hiccuping again. it was starting to frustrate you.

“ion hate you.” connie muttered after a short silence, his eyes softening as he stared down at you.

“ion hate you either, connie. ever.” yeah, it was definitely the alcohol talking again. he knew that too, but he knew you meant it, or he didn’t wanna believe you were lying to him.

“i know.” was all he said.

“i don’t like reiner, i hate reiner. i thought it was you…” you hiccuped again, frowning at it, like a puppy getting mad at its tail. “and… and i was half asleep, i thought it was you kissing me.” you hiccuped again, hitting your chest.

connie’s eyes got even softer, him staring at you. taking in the fact that you were frustrated at your own hiccups, but most importantly, the fact that you said you’d thought it was him kissing you.

“you ain’t know that was reiner?” he muttered, in barely a whisper, zoning out as he stared at the ground.

he heard your sniffle, as you shook your head. “no.” you furrowed your eyebrows, wiping the tears that rolled down your eyes.

as much as he wanted to forget about reiner, ignore him, he was sick of him making you cry. worst of all, he was almost sick at the fact that he kissed you, and you didn’t know he was kissing you.

“okay.” connie snapped out of his daydreaming and grabbed your skirt and corset, passing them to you. he grabbed your unoccupied hand, unlocking the door and opening it, making his way downstairs with you.

“i’m takin you home.” he muttered, holding out his hand. “keys.”

you reached in your skirt pocket, grabbing your keys and giving them to him. “you mad at me?” you looked up at him as he went outside. “nah. you good.” connie looked at you, quickly kissing you.

it caught you off guard, but you smiled as he walked up to one of his other home boys, telling them to take his car home.

unlocking your car, he opened the door for you, waiting until you got in to close it back. he walked around your car, getting in and starting it. your music played quietly in the background, you staring out the window.

you looked at connie, him glancing back at you.

“you sure you not mad?” you furrowed your brows, fixing yourself in your seat. connie stared at the road and shook his head. “not at you. i told you that ma.” he muttered. “that was my homeboy you was kissing on tho.”

you looking back out the window. “i’m sorry.”

still the alcohol talking. but when you were drunk, you spoke how you felt. even if it was things you’d never say.

“i missed you.” you looked at your lap, connie looked at you. “when you kissed historia…”

he glanced out of his window.

“did you kiss her because you meant it? or were you just tryna make me mad?” your eyes rested on your fingers as you nervously rubbed your nails.

connie caught on and grabbed your hands. “stop that. i was just tryna make you mad.” he’d hate to admit it, but in the moment, he just told the truth. if anything, he hated historia. bad. he didn’t even wanna do what he did.

he had to force himself to do it anyway, just to get your attention.

“oh.” you held his hand, tracing his veins. connie’s thumb rubbed your hand.

“you know how much i care about you. i’d never do that on purpose.” he added on. you slowly nodded. “i know.”

“so… you believe me. right?” you looked at connie once more, making sure he completely believed what you were saying. connie smiled. that’s what you’ve been waiting for this whole time.

“you know i believe you.”

chap.10

#𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚕𝚞𝚟𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎₊✩ˎˊ˗#aot connie #connie springer #connie springer x black reader #connie springer x reader #connie x black reader #connie springer headcanons #connie x black y/n #connie x reader #connie x you #aot x you

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lottins-only · 3 months ago

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I love you, it's ruining my life | Part III

pairing: Kylian x black!fem!Reader

warnings: some nsfw (?) content

word count: 6.9k

part one, part two

A/N: this one is a bit long 🫠 Thank you to those who read the first two parts, and to those who sent me sweet messages🙏🏾Inbox is open, so please do let me know your thoughts !! <3

III. December 2022

“What are those for?”

Y/N followed Ethan’s inquisitive gaze to the top of her tote bag . She quickly shoved down the bags of candy peeking out, trying to conceal their abundance. She knew she’d packed way too many, but more meant better options, she’d reasoned. Especially since the person they were meant for had the sweet tooth of a 5 year old.

“Oh, you know me, I always have to have snacks on me” She lied.

Ethan looked at her like she was a madman, then shook his head before turning his attention to his phone. They were sitting outside at a luxurious hotel that served as the base camp of the French National Team for the duration of the World Cup. With the final only a few days away, the FFF had organized a “fun day” for the players to unwind with their loved ones. There were bouncy castles and inflatable slides littered around the lawn for children, while the irresistible aroma of barbecue wafted through the air. Kylian was somewhere entertaining his niece and nephew, and was hanging out with his parents as well. Y/N and Ethan, introverts as they were, spent most of their time chilling on the lounge chairs drinking mojitos (Virgin mojitos for Ethan; he’d tried to convince her to let him have a try from her drink but she’d refused).

Y/N was enjoying herself. Truly savoring every moment. A one month-long, all-expenses-paid trip to watch her best friend play in the World Cup? She couldn’t have submitted her PTO request fast enough.

“It’s probably only going to be 2 weeks though” Kylian had said to her half- jokingly when he’d proposed the idea over the phone. He was referring to the “winner's curse”, the jinx that often saw past winners exit the tournament in the group stages. But against all odds, France was once again in the final of the World Cup.

She opened her phone, dismayed to find zero new messages from her boyfriend of 8 months, Lucas. They had met when she moved to Madrid straight after graduating from university. She’d found a job at a small public health non-profit, and Lucas had been one of the few people working there that was her age. They’d quickly struck up a friendship, and he’d immediately asked her out after he left that job a few years later. It was a no-brainer for Y/N to say yes. He was good looking, charming, and made her laugh. Besides, it was well past the time to move on from Kylian.

For his part, Kylian had been ecstatic when she’d returned to Europe. They had grown closer after both of their moves, despite the distance. They facetimed at least once a week, and it sort of became a tradition for Kylian to give her a quick call before games. They’d text regularly too, their conversations meandering from trivial topics to deep confessions. Once, she’d mentioned that she used “Study with me” YouTube videos for her study sessions, as it was a way to keep herself accountable.

“I could do that with you, you don’t need stupid youtube videos” he’d said confidently over the phone.

She’d laughed. “You can’t shut up for 2 minutes if your life depended on it, Ky”

“No, I can” he’d said seriously. “I want to, for you”

And so they’d formed another tradition. They’d sit silently on facetime for hours and hours, Y/N poring over her books and notes, and Kylian in his room alone doing god knows what. He’d check in on her every once in a while, always encouraging. She knew that he had a busy life and few precious hours to himself, so she was grateful that he’d decided to spend that time with her, doing something that had no immediate benefit to him whatsoever.

They’d opened up more about their love lives as well, as they’d promised to each other back in Monaco. She didn’t volunteer any information herself, because it was still a little weird, but she’d answer questions if he probed. It was a lot less easy for Kylian to hide things from her, thanks to his growing fame. She’d only have to scroll through her explore page on Instagram or go through gossip websites to find detailed information about any woman who so much as breathed next to him. He’d continued dating people after the breakup with Sophia, which had happened only a month after her visit in Monaco. But much to her relief, it was never serious with anyone. She’d once seen pictures of him in the stands at the Parc des Princes with a blonde actress, and that old feeling of jealousy had snuck up on her like it had never left. But just two weeks later, Kylian informed her that it was over.

She had mentioned Lucas to him pretty early on in the relationship. Like she expected, he’d made a bad joke out of it. Something about HR needing to be alerted. She’d reminded him, rather annoyed, that Lucas no longer worked at her workplace. He didn’t say anything after that, quickly changing the subject. One day, however, Lucas mentioned something that gave her pause.

“You know something crazy that happened to me today?” He’d laughed. They were lounging on her couch in her apartment, watching a movie. “Kylian Mbappe liked a picture of mine on Instagram, from like 6 years ago”

She’d furrowed her eyebrows. Lucas was a huge football fan, but Y/N still hadn’t mentioned her friendship with Kylian. It had only been a month of them seeing each other, and about 3 days after she’d told Kylian about him.

“Yeah, look” Lucas brought out his phone and showed her a screenshot. Sure enough, Kylian’s username was under a picture of Lucas’ dated December 2016. Lucas was a regular poster on Instagram, so Kylian must have scrolled far back to find that picture. She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“I know right?” Lucas had said. “Funny thing is, it disappeared just a few seconds after I got the notification. So random.”

She imagined THE Kylian Mbappe in his bed late at night, lurking on Instagram, accidentally liking an old picture and then hurriedly unliking.

“Yeah” she had said, a smile tugging at her lips. “Random”

As Y/N’s thoughts drifted back to the present, she glanced at her phone again. Still empty. After a rocky couple weeks of arguments, Y/N and Lucas decided to go on a break. Lucas had grown distant and less affectionate. He was less present when they spent time together, and was generally making less effort in the relationship. It had been a punch to the gut when he’d forgotten her birthday two weeks ago. She hadn’t said anything; he’d only realized when he saw the huge bouquet of flowers from Kylian sitting on her dining table.

That was also another sore spot in their relationship; Lucas was not at all comfortable with her friendship with Kylian. He hadn’t mentioned it, and she had made a point to tone down the constant texting and calling as soon as they became official, but she could still see it in the way he behaved. The World Cup trip was the tipping point. She couldn’t blame him; Her male best friend, who was one of the most famous footballers in the world, was bankrolling a one month trip for her to watch him play on the world’s biggest stage. It would be a hit to the ego for any man. But frankly, she was tired. She was tired of him, and she wanted time away from him. And so the break began.

She did not miss him, if she was being honest with herself. Yet, she couldn’t help checking her phone to see if he’d reached out. Lucas was the only person she’d been seriously interested in, besides Kylian. Maybe it wasn’t wise to give up on something good over a bad month or so. A tiny, insecure part of her told her she’d never find someone who liked her just as much as Lucas.

“Hi there” A deep voice cut through her thoughts. She looked up to see a very handsome face.

He stood tall in the dark blue tracksuit of the French national team, smiling at her broadly. She recognized him immediately.

“Hi” She responded shyly, having never spoken to Kylian’s national team teammates before.

“Saw you from over there” Aurelien Tchouameni pointed to the mini basketball court, where some other players were shooting hoops. “And you’re really pretty”

Straight to the point, then. Ethan snorted from across the table.

“Uh.. thanks” She said nervously. “I have a boyfriend though”

Aurelien glanced at Ethan, then at her. Realization dawned on his face, and he held up his hands apologetically. “Oh, you’re Y/N! I should’ve realized… So you and Kylian finally got together, huh?”

“W-What?” She blabbered. Ethan was now laughing. “No, we’re not dating. Just friends”

“Oh” Aurelien said, his eyebrows furrowing. “Sorry. It’s just that he always talks about you”

“Really?”

“Yeah, whenever we talk about shows and music and stuff, he’s always like Y/N recommended this, Y/N said that”

“Yeah, he basically stole my entire personality” She deadpanned, trying to feel less awkward.

He laughed, nodding in agreement. “Well, you guys have fun. And sorry about that, I just had to shoot my shot”

He winked and walked away as quickly as he’d appeared.

She turned to Ethan, who was no doubt opening his mouth to tease her. She held up her hand. “Don’t even”

Y/N unloaded the contents of her tote bag on the bed, spilling out every type of candy Kylian had ever enjoyed. She turned to him, smiling proudly. “There you go, Monsieur”

Kylian’s eyes lit up as he grabbed a bag of M&Ms and tore it open. “Thank you” he said with a dimpled grin.

He’d texted her the day before asking her to grab him some candy, and she was happy to oblige. Kylian was the most disciplined person she’d ever met, but everyone deserves a cheat day—especially someone who’d made it to his second World Cup final at 23. She’d waited until they were alone in his room to give him the treats, careful to not be seen by any of the coaching staff.

She leaned back on her chair and opened her phone, once again checking for new messages.

“Stop that” Kylian scolded.

“Stop what?” She asked innocently.

“I know what you’re doing” he said. “I can’t believe you’re the one who’s hung up on him while he’s the asshole. It should be the other way around”

“I’m not hung up on him” She said, flustered. “I’m just…”

“You’re checking your phone every 5 minutes” He cut in. “You deserve someone who gives you their full attention and consideration, you know”

And why can’t that person be you?

The door burst open and Ethan walked in, his eyes immediately landing on all the candy.

“I knew it!” He pointed at her, accusatorial. “I knew it was for him”

She shrugged apologetically.

Ethan happily opened a bag of Haribos, and turned to his brother, a mischievous look on his face. “Did she tell you about Tchouameni?”

“What about him?” Kylian responded absentmindedly, his attention on his phone.

“He hit on her” Ethan said grinning “And then when he found out who she was he said he thought you two were dating”

An idea unfurled in Y/N’s head. “He’s so hot” she said. “Maybe I should ask for his number. Might as well, right? Since Lucas and I are basically done…”

“No” Kylian’s voice rose slightly. “No, don’t do that.”

“Why not?” She asked “You just said I deserve someone who gives me attention. Aurelien seems like the type”

He was fidgeting now, irritation clearly written on his face. “Athletes are assholes, haven’t you heard that before? Also, it would be weird for you to date my teammate”

“Are you saying you’re an asshole?” She asked

“No, but.. Just trust me” He turned his attention back to his phone, clearly uncomfortable.

Y/N wasn’t much of a football fan, but she knew that the match she just witnessed was one of the best ever played. The highs and lows, the split second moments that changed the trajectory of the whole game, the sheer unpredictability of the whole thing. Every single movement made by the players felt like the tipping point. The atmosphere inside the stadium was electric, a living, breathing entity fueled by the passion and excitement of the fans watching. By the time the Argentinian player had kicked the final penalty to seal his country’s win, she was overwhelmed by a deep feeling of sadness. So much so, that she felt tears prick her eyes. She looked down at Kylian, only a small figure from her seat in the stands. His shoulder was slumped, his entire body deflated. He had given his all, and yet he had lost. Teammates and coaching staff alike kept coming up to him to comfort him. She desperately wanted to go over to him, to hold him, but she knew she couldn’t enter the pitch until after the medal ceremony.

She saw him and his teammates retreat into the tunnels just as Messi lifted up the World Cup to the cheer of thousands. She turned to his family and friends, with whom she’d been cheering in elation at Kylian’s equalizing goal just a few minutes ago.

“Go” his father urged her “The only person he’d want to see right now is you”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She weaved her way through the stadium, flashing her VIP access lanyard when met with security, and asking for directions once or twice. She passed through the final set of security before finding herself outside the French team’s locker rooms. She informed the guard outside who she was looking for. He went inside, and moments later, came back out with Kylian.

Her heart nearly shattered at the sight of him. He kept his head down, but she could see his eyes were bloodshot. Without a word, she wrapped him in a tight hug, feeling him shake silently in her embrace. She had never seen Kylian cry before.

“Hey” she murmured softly. “It’s okay”

He buried his face in her shoulder, his breath hitching with each silent sob. Her own tears slipped down her cheeks. He gently let go a few moments later, and they sat down on the floor, leaning against the hallway wall.

“I thought we had it” He said, his voice cracking.

“ I know you did” She said gently, wiping a tear falling down his cheeks. “ You gave your everything. Sometimes it just comes down to luck, Ky. There’s nothing you can do about it” She took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

Kylian nodded, but she knew he didn’t believe her. Knowing him, this night would haunt him for a long time.

“Thank you for being here” His voice was steadier now. He leaned his head on her shoulder.

“Always” She whispered.

They sat there for some minutes, watching the hallway slowly become filled with the families of the other players. Her heart warmed at the sight of Griezmann’s daughters comforting their father. Her thumb was slowly caressing the back of Kylian’s hand. Turning slowly, she kissed his forehead. She wondered if they looked like a couple just then, with their hands joined in her lap and her lips on his forehead.

It was 2 days after that disappointing night in Qatar, and two nights since Y/N had been unceremoniously dumped over the phone.

The weight of the defeat had lingered that night, sucking the energy out of everyone. By the time Y/N and the Mbappes returned to the hotel, the atmosphere was thick with sadness and disappointment. She’d gotten the call just as she’d walked into her hotel room. Lucas’ voice had been calm and detached as he’d delivered the news she had dreaded: their relationship was over. The entire conversation was a blur, but there were bits and pieces that stung so much it still echoed in her head. “ I don’t feel that connection anymore” to “I’m clearly second choice here” and “you’ve been lying to yourself all this time”. She’d cried herself to sleep, overwhelmed by a storm of heartache and confusion.

She had planned to go straight to Madrid after the final but decided to hide out with her parents in Paris for a couple days. It was now the 20th, Kylian’s birthday. She hadn’t spoken to him since coming back to Paris, caught up in her own heartbreak, but she’d received an invitation for a birthday dinner via his assistant. It took everything in her to drag herself out of bed and to get ready.

The restaurant was one of the most famous in Paris, and Kylian’s personal favorite. He’d reserved the entire space for his friends and family. It was cozy, with dimmed lights and ambient music blending in with the chatter of the guests. A single long table stretched across the room, dotted with candlelight.

As Y/N made her way through the room, she greeted everyone – Kylian’s parents, his brothers, his closest teammates, his close friends, and other acquaintances. To her embarrassment, she’d been the last guest to arrive. His assistant guided her to the only open seat left, right next to Kylian.

“No one wants to sit next to the birthday boy?” She quipped as she took her place.

“Was saving it for you” He replied. He looked handsome in a blue Dior sweater and black denim jeans. His tan from Qatar was already fading, and he had a small smile playing on his face. They chatted for a bit, asking each other about their respective heartbreaks, before becoming engrossed in the lively conversations surrounding them.

At one point, they caught each other’s eyes. The candlelight was casting strange shadows on his face. She smiled at him, and without thinking, poked at one of his dimples. “I’m really glad you were born, by the way”

“ I know” His eyes sparkled with amusement. His arm was draped casually over the back of her chair, their faces close. He gently tugged at a single braid of her hair with his other hand and murmured, “I like your hair like this. It’s new right?”

It was indeed new. She’d decided to try boho braids for the first time.

You deserve someone who gives you their full attention and consideration, you know.

Someone cleared their throat, and they sprung apart. It was the waitstaff, ready to serve appetizers. They spoke sparingly as they ate. Kylian, the menace that he was, kept reaching for bites from her plate. She elbowed him whenever he did, but she didn’t hesitate to steal from his plate as well.

After everyone had eaten and all the food was cleared, a huge cake with 24 individual candles was brought out. She made sure to take a video of Kylian smiling as everyone sang Joyeux Anniversaire, giggling at how awkward he looked.

“Make a wish first!” Someone called just as he was about to blow out the candles.

He paused, his gaze locking with Y/N’s over her phone screen as he playfully pointed a finger at her. He continued blowing out his candles, never breaking eye contact with her. A chorus of laughter came from the guests at his antics, and Y/N felt her face burn as she put down her phone.

“He’s so down bad for her…” She could hear Tchaga snigger. Another ripple of laughter broke out from the guests at his comment. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her at that moment.

The laughter and celebration gradually tapered off after some time, and Y/N and some other friends were invited by Kylian to his apartment for some drinks. He had training the next day and didn’t want to do some heavy clubbing.

The sound of easy laughter and the clinking of glasses filled Kylian’s apartment. Y/N and Kylian were sitting on the couch in his living room, their bodies close together despite them being the only occupants. They were reminiscing about the time Kylian had tried to convince her to play in a school tournament. There was a rule that the teams had to be mixed, and not a lot of girls wanted to play. He’d begged Y/N to join, and she’d reluctantly accepted on the condition that he’d buy her a teddy bear if they won. They were playing for a plastic trophy that cost 2 euros, yet Kylian treated it like it was life or death. They won, and Y/N got her teddy bear.

“I still have that teddy bear, you know” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. It’s probably my favorite gift I’ve ever received”

He hummed, clearly pleased. She didn’t know when and how, but her leg was slung over his. His hand was on her, his fingers softly tracing lines up and down her calf.

“So, I’m your birthday wish huh?” She knew she wouldn’t be bold enough to say those words any other time, but here they were. The physical proximity was like a promise of something greater happening.

“Yup” He met her eyes confidently, his eyes shining.

“Maybe you should’ve started small though. Like a kiss?” She tried her best to sound flirtatious.

He laughed, “Ok. Let me redo the wish”

He cleared his throat and closed his eyes, a small smile still playing on his lips. He put his palms together as if in prayer and said in a deep, affected voice, “ Dear Universe, for my 24th birthday, I wish to receive a kiss from Y/N”

Without skipping a beat, she leaned in and slanted her lips over his. She could feel his breath hitch, like he hadn’t expected her to do that. It hardly took a second for him to kiss back though. It was slow, sensual. Tender and exploratory. His tongue brushed her lips before slipping inside, and she welcomed him with a soft sigh. The hand that had been on her calf quickly moved to her hips, and his other hand gently cupped her face. Her stomach was a puddle, and she was glad that they were sitting down because she was sure her knees would’ve given out if they were standing. The kiss deepened and went on and on and on, until they had to break away for air. He looked dazed, his lips glistening from her shiny lipgloss.

He quickly put his lips back on her, but Y/N pulled away.

She pressed her lips over his ear and murmured, “You need to tell everyone to leave. Now”

Kylian quickly waved Tchaga over and whispered in his ear urgently. Y/N didn’t feel a trace of shame when Tchaga shot her a knowing, teasing look. She was just happy that he was making quick work of announcing that the party was over and ushering everyone out of Kylian’s apartment.

No sooner had the apartment emptied and the door slammed behind Tchaga that she climbed his lap. She was able to get one sloppy kiss in before Kylian pulled away breathlessly. “We need to get to my room”

And so he hoisted her up and effortlessly walked them all the way up the stairs and into his bedroom. They kissed fiercely as he gently put her down on his bed. Kylian scrambled out of his sweater as she unbuttoned her shirt. He helped her out of her skirt and then her tights.

She rolled over and climbed on top of him, finding him as ready as she was. Lustful brown eyes stared openly at her pale pink underwear. “Do you have?” She asked frantically.

“Yeah, in the drawer”

She leaned sideways, stretching her body to reach the bedside drawer. She found the box pretty easily and grabbed one from it. He was still staring at her hungrily. With shaking hands, she unhooked her bra and took it off.

He kissed her neck, her breasts, her stomach. Her hands caressed his biceps, his chest, his torso. This was years of desire she’d harbored, finally unleashed. His mouth brushed over her lower torso before his fingers deftly removed the last remaining piece of clothing on her body. She unbuckled his belt buckle and removed his jeans and boxers at the same time. His breathing was shallow and rapid as she ripped the foil open and rolled it on him. She lowered herself onto him slowly, and they both gasped.

They were chest to chest, their hearts drumming together. They moved together in a steady rhythm, watching each other, checking in on each other with their eyes. Is this okay? How about this? And this?

She wanted him closer, deeper. It was never enough. They breathed into each other's mouths, tongues meeting sloppily. Breaking apart, their foreheads met. Their eyes said a million little things at once. Time and space had no meaning anymore for Y/N. There was only Kylian.

* **************

It turned out that if you’d wanted something badly for a very long time, and then you finally got that thing, it didn’t necessarily mean that you'll have enough of that thing. Sometimes, it could leave you wanting more and more. Case in point: Y/N.

They woke up midday with bodies hot and sweaty and limbs tangled together in the sheets. They had laid there for an hour or so, kissing languidly. He somehow already knew what she liked, the moves that made her moan and gasp.

“I could do this forever” he’d murmured as his lips softly trailed after hers. But his alarm rang out just then, a stark reminder of real life. They both sighed reluctantly as they pulled away. He had to get up and get ready for his afternoon training.

She laid there, silently watching him get dressed. She was mesmerized by every movement of his beautiful, lean yet muscular body. Her own personal Adonis. It was a wonder she’d been able to keep her hands off him. He caught her looking at him and smirked, winking at her. She just rolled her eyes.

Once he’d gotten ready and packed his bag, he came over to her on the bed and showered her face with affectionate kisses. “I’ll come back in the evening. Feel free to just chill here.” He said between kisses on her forehead, lips, cheeks, chin. “I’ll leave a spare key by the door though”

She nodded happily, giving him one last tender kiss. He stepped out, and she was left to bask in the lingering warmth of his affection. Her mind replayed the memories of the night before, and she felt like the happiest person alive. Now that she got a taste of him, she wanted more of him. As if on cue, her phone pinged with a text.

Ky: I miss you already 🙁

She giggled, quickly typing out a I miss you tooo before getting up and hopping in the shower. It was only when she got out that she realized she didn’t have a change of clothes, and unless she wanted to walk into her parents apartment dressed the same way she’d left it yesterday, she needed to put on something else. She walked into Kylian’s closet and grabbed the nearest T-shirt and sweatpants, as well as some slippers. She quickly snapped a mirror pic after changing and sent it to Kylian, typing heading to my parents for a bit.

The reply was almost instant.

Ky: 😍 😍

Ky: don’t forget to grab stuff you need.

She smiled, loving the implication she’d spend the night again. At her parents, she grabbed Kylian’s gift that she’d forgotten to take with her the night before, as well as a change of clothes. She came back to Kylian’s place and answered work emails and completed other miscellaneous tasks concerning her job.

He was back in the early evening, just as promised. The passion of the night before had faded and the afterglow of the morning had subsided, meaning there was nothing to embolden either of them. Thus, they treaded lightly around each other. Their looks were furtive, their touches tentative. Kylian, the least shy person she’d ever met, had somehow turned uncharacteristically quiet. Yet, they were both undeniably giddy. She could see it in the way he broke into an inexplicable smile whenever he caught her eye during dinner, and in the way she was in the best mood she’d been in for a long time.

This illusion of coyness evaporated as they settled on the couch after dinner, Kylian turning on a tactical video the PSG staff had instructed him to view. The video was on for less than 2 minutes before their focus shifted entirely and they began to make out.

“You’re too distracting,” he said between kisses as she giggled.

“Yeah?”

His lips shifted to her neck. “I think kissing you is my favorite thing to do”

He was biting there, sure to leave a mark.

“Well second favorite” he corrected himself.

She took off her T-shirt and straddled him. He continued, his hands softly gripping her waist “Second place is kissing you. First place is obviously playing football—”

He was momentarily interrupted as she took his own T-shirt off. “—tied with fucking you”

His shit eating grin was the last thing she saw before he flipped her over and sent her sprawling comfortably on the cushions.

It was unfortunate that they had a game on new year’s eve, but Y/N liked the ambiance at the Parc des Princes. The stadium was buzzing with a special, festive energy for Kylian’s first match after the World Cup final. She was seated in the VIP section along with his parents, brother, and Tchaga and had jumped up and down when Kylian scored the last minute winner. He’d never say it, but she knew he needed that confidence boost.

In the past week, she’d gotten to know a completely different part of him – one her lovesick teenage self could only have dreamed of, and that her more cynical young adult self had never thought she’d experience.

For example, she’d always known that he loved taking care of his loved ones, but she hadn’t spent a single dime during her stay with him. Any purchases she thought of making, he insisted on paying for. He’d even surprised her with a package containing everything from her wishlist after he saw her browsing her favorite store online. His generosity extended to small things like sharing food (which he was notoriously known for disliking), and thoughtful gestures like arranging a work space for her in one of his spare rooms. He endearingly loved using pet names, alternating between “bébé” and “chérie”, and her heart did somersaults when she heard him use those in everyday conversation.

She learned intimate details too, thanks to their newfound physical closeness. The birthmark on his lower back that she loved pressing kisses to. How scratching his head would put him to sleep almost instantly. She learned about his preferences as well; he was most definitely an ass man – it was evident by the way he never passed up a chance to feel her up when they were by themselves. Now, she committed everything she learned to memory, seeing Kylian in hues she never thought existed.

The days after his birthday were perfect to her, it felt like she was living a dream. Lucas and Madrid were so far from her mind that it was as if the break up had happened a year ago. The person she’d been pining after for ages seemingly liked her back. She was at her happiest.

There was one issue that gnawed at her, however. It bothered her that they had never spoken about what they were, or where their relationship was heading. She’d thought that the fact they had slept together was a mutual admission of serious feelings, that they had an unspoken agreement. Yet, the more she thought about it, the more she realized they hadn’t actually talked about it. The first two days or so, she’d been on cloud 9, swept away by the euphoria of it all. But now, as reality set it, it was torturing her.

A buzz of excitement filled the VIP lounge as a small crowd gathered around the entrance. She suspected it was Kylian and his entourage; he’d promised to come up to the lounge after the game. Sure enough, in walked Kylian’s bodyguards, followed closely by the man of the match himself.

He made the rounds first, meeting all the important people in the room, taking pictures and making small talk. He finally made his way to his family and friends. He came to Y/N last, and there was an awkward shuffle when he went in for a peck on the lips as a greeting, and Y/N instinctively aimed for his cheek. They laughed it off, and she gave him the kiss he’d wanted. Ethan let out a loud “ew!”, and Y/N flushed, looking at the ground. So far, none of their family and friends had had visible reactions to the recent developments in their relationship. No one had said anything when they’d shown up holding hands at Kylian's family Christmas party a week ago; it was almost like they expected it, as if they believed this was the natural culmination of Y/N and Kylian’s 10+ years long friendship and not an unexpected turn of events.

“ I have something for you” she murmured after it was just the two of them speaking, indicating a small gift bag she was holding.

He raised his eyebrows. “Oooh. What’s in there?”

“It's your birthday gift” She said as she handed it to him. “I was supposed to bring it to dinner but I forgot. I brought it to your apartment the next day but it slipped my mind again”

“And here I was thinking my gift was the mind blowing sex” He said grinning.

She shoved him playfully, rolling her eyes. As he reached to open the bag, her stomach started fluttering.

Someone slid up to him just then, whispering in his ear.

“ Give me one second, I’ll be back” he said apologetically as he dropped the bag on the nearest table and was whisked away, no doubt to meet some other important person that was there to see him.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. The gift was a scrapbook she’d made herself, chronicling their long friendship. She’d hoped it would help open up the conversation about their current situation.

“Fancy a drink?”

It was one of the waiters, holding a tray of colorful looking drinks. She graciously took one.

“New here? I’m never seen you in the lounge before”

He seemed polite enough. “Uh, yes. I’m here with…my boyfriend” She tested the word on her lips, her eyes on Kylian across the room.

The waiter followed her gaze and snorted. “He has a girlfriend? I’d sooner believe Macron quit the presidency to be a mime”

He blanched as soon as he realized she was serious. “I- I meant-”

“What?”

He looked at the ground. “He just- I see a different model every other week here. They're almost always his guests”

She opened her mouth, but he beat her to it. “Look, just forget I said anything. It’s not my place.” He looked at her pleadingly. “Please don’t get me fired”

He scurried off before she could say anything.

She glanced at her gift bag, left forgotten on the table. He was now taking pictures with a group of older people. Her eyes started to well up, and she walked out of the room. She kept going until she found herself outside, ordering an Uber. She sent him a text as she got in the car:

Y/N: going home to deal with some stuff, think I’ll spend the night there

She closed her eyes, tears now sliding down her cheeks.

She barely slept that night, spending hours on her phone looking up the many women Kylian had been linked with. She went through their instagrams, her mind treacherously comparing each one to herself, as if she could measure her worth against their curated, seemingly perfect lives. She came across photos of Kylian on yachts, laughing with bikini-clad blondes. The comments on the photos only twisted the knife deeper – some criticized him as a “playboy” , while others mocked him with a dismissive “typical footballer”. Each photo was like a dagger to her heart.

But it was the final blow that left her breathless: blurry photos of Kylian leaving a club with a girl, taken just a month ago, in November. It was that recent. It all made sense now, why he’d never made an effort to have a serious conversation about their relationship. He liked his current lifestyle, focusing completely on football while indulging in a fleeting series of flings from time to time. She was nothing special, just another name on the long list of women he entertained.

What shattered her the most was that he had no consideration for their friendship, that he could throw it away just like that for some sex. He had traded something she deeply cherished for something else he considered transient, meaningless.

By the time dawn broke and the first light filtered through her curtains, she was resolute. Dragging herself out of bed, she made her way to the kitchen and was shocked to find her parents sitting and laughing with Kylian.

His face brightened as soon as he saw her. “Morning chérie” he greeted, the pet name failing to make her stomach flutter this time.

“Dropped by to check on you” he continued. “You weren’t answering my texts”

It was intentional, of course. Seeing the tired look on her face, her parents moved out of the kitchen to give them privacy. She sat down beside him slowly, and his face twisted into concern.

“Is everything ok?” He went to grab her hand but she snatched it away quickly. She didn’t miss the hurt look on his face.

“I- uh. I’m ok” She didn’t know how to approach the conversation. “Did you finally open my gift?”

"What? Your gi- oh. Yeah. I did” She could clearly see through the lie.

“Kylian” She warned, her tone sharp.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking guilty. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot. But it still has to be there though, no one will take it”

“What the fuck, Kylian?” her voice rose, frustration spilling over. “You didn’t even take it home with you?”

He frantically reached for his phone. “I’ll call and get someone at the club to look for it. I’ll get it back, I promise”

She snatched the phone out of his hand, her eyes blazing “I spent a lot of time on it. I can’t believe you did that, it's like you don’t even care”

He looked at her earnestly. “You know I care, I care about you a lot”

“Is that what you say to every girl you sleep with?” She couldn’t help it.

“What?” He looked at her incredulously. “ No. This is different. You’ve always been different”

“I find that hard to believe, Kylian” She muttered, her voice quivering.

“Why?” He challenged her, his confusion mingled with frustration. “Why would you think that?”

“Because” her tears spilled over “You’ve been uncommitted forever”

“Well maybe that’s because the one person I would’ve liked to be committed to was in another country, wasting her time on some asshole”

“Then why not now?” She spoke through tears. “I’ve been sleeping in your bed for a while now, Ky.”

“I was trying to give you time” His voice shook. “You broke up with that idiot literally 3 days before we hooked up. I thought you weren’t ready”

He looked at her pleadingly, his eyes desperate.

“I don’t know, Kylian” She laughed bitterly. “you said it yourself, don’t trust athletes”

She saw a tear falling down his cheek, and she was struck by the sight. She never thought the second time she’d see him cry, it would be because of her.

She weighed the possibility of making it work – a long distance relationship, with her in Madrid and him in Paris. They’d see each other infrequently, her being tied to Madrid with work and him to Paris by the relentless demands of football. They’d miss birthdays, anniversaries. She’d never be able to take him to an office Christmas party. Maybe she’d be able to go with him to things that mattered to him, like award ceremonies, but only because his career would take precedence over hers. She’d hear whispers about his potential infidelities, but she wouldn’t say anything. Until the resentment feels so suffocating it bubbles up, and she’d have no choice but to end it. It would happen, whether months away or years down the line. And then they’d have to cut each other off forever. She didn’t want that. She loved him too much. She’d rather have some of him than nothing at all. Perhaps if she ended it now, their friendship could be salvaged.

She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Kylian. I don’t think… I don’t think we should do this anymore”

They sat there silently for a few seconds. Then she heard a sniffle, and then the sound of his chair scraping as he got up. She heard footsteps retreating, and then the sound of the apartment door open and slam shut. Only then did she let herself fall apart.

Her mother hurried into the room, looking very alarmed. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Maman” she choked out between sobs. “I need to book a flight back to Madrid”

#kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x y/n #kylian fanfic #kylian x you #kylian imagines #kylian x reader #kylian mbappé imagine #kylian mbappe smut #Kylian mbappé smut

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persevereforahappyending · 5 months ago

Text

A Legacies Secret |4|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.4k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Hey,” Chad said softly, poking his head into the room, offering Tara a kind smile. He pushed open the door the rest of the way to reveal the others, Mindy, Amber, and Wes trailing in behind him.

You internally grimaced at the sight of them. You knew they were Tara’s friends and they cared about her. That was all that mattered at the end of the day, it was just, you knew they weren’t your biggest fan. You were only a few years older than them, but they all thought Tara could do better. Out of all her friends though you liked Chad the most. Chad might not have fully approved of your relationship with Tara, but he never seemed to complain about you or was bothered by your presence like some of the others.

Chad gave you a nod as he walked over to Tara. “Liv’s sorry she couldn’t make it,” he said, giving her hand a small squeeze. Tara gave him a grateful smile before moving away, allowing the others to say their hellos, throwing himself in one of the chairs in the other corner of the room.

Mindy rolled her eyes at her brother, she did the same, walking over to Tara and giving her shoulder a comforting rub. Amber ignored your presence as she made her way to the other side of Tara’s bed, reaching for her uninjured hand, holding it as she asked if Tara was okay.

“Is it true Ghostface attacked you?” Wes said, coming up behind Amber. You flicked Wes a glare, ready to toss him out of the room yourself but Amber smacked him upside the head. “Sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his head.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Wes whispered, smiling at Tara. You knew Wes had a crush on Tara, but you couldn’t be too mad, he was sweet, and you knew you had nothing to worry about.

“We all are,” Amber added.

“Thanks,” Tara whispered, smiling up at her friends. “And thanks for coming.”

The room got quiet after that, no one knew what to say. They all clearly cared about Tara and came as soon as she texted, but they clearly had questions. You had all grown up in Woodsboro, of course you all knew the story of Sidney Prescott and Ghostface. You were older than the others, so you remembered hearing about the 2011 attacks, you remembered parents being afraid to send their kids to school. The others probably wouldn’t remember it as much, they were only seven or eight. Tara might have some memory of it, she would have been almost nine and her sister was a freshman at the time, if you remembered correctly.

“Just ask,” Tara finally sighed.

Wes quickly opened his mouth, but nothing came out, his eyes remained on the floor. You glanced around seeing Chad and Mindy also had their eyes glued to the floor. The only one not looking at the floor was Amber; she was staring daggers right at you. You tilted her head, staring right back, you were ready for whenever she decided to open her mouth, point out how this was all your fault somehow.

“I heard my mom leave last night,” Wes spoke softly, being the first to break the silence. “She rushed out of the house so fast, all I caught was your address.” Wes finally looked up at Tara, tears in his eyes. “I waited up all night until she got home early this morning.”

“He kept messaging us,” Mindy said. “Saying something happened and wanting to know if we knew.”

“The incessant texting finally woke me up,” Chad said, letting out a humorless chuckle. “I didn’t wait before I was barging into Mindy’s room.”

“We refused to go to school until we got word you were okay,” Amber said, smiling softly when she focused her attention back on Tara. “How are you feeling?”

“The meds definitely help,” Tara chuckled, but you could see the pain in her eyes, and she kept having to shift positions to get comfortable.

“Was…” Wes opened and closed his mouth a few times, you could see him debating the right way to ask whatever it is he wanted to ask. “Was it really Ghostface?”

The entire room got quite, or more quiet, if that was even possible. You rested a hand on her shoulder when you noticed her eyes tremble slightly. She looked over at you, you could see the fear that now seemed to be ever-present in her eyes. You gave her a comforting smile; you were right there and weren’t going anywhere. If she wanted to tell her friends what happened you would support her, if she didn’t want to talk about it, you’d kick them all out yourself.

“Yes,” Tara said whispered.

It was almost like there was a temperature shift in the room, the way everything seemed to get so much colder. Wes straightened his back, taking a barely noticeable step back. Wes already knew it was Ghostface, that’s why he asked, he overheard Judy on the phone or something, getting confirmation from Tara that it was Ghostface was another thing entirely. Chad’s entire body went rigid, he looked like a statue sitting in the hospital chair, his hands folded as his head rested-on top of them. Mindy was in a similar position; her hands were folded together as she stared down at the floor. The only parts of her that moved were her eyes, darting back and forth as her mind most likely replayed everything, she knew about Ghostface, the Stab movies, and who knew what else.

Amber had the least reaction out of all of them, almost no reaction at all. You narrowed your eyes slightly. Amber kept her hand in Tara’s, her eyes cast down to the floor. She placed her other hand on Tara’s shoulder, giving it a comforting rub. Maybe it was your paranoia getting to you but to you it almost seemed like Amber wasn’t surprised by the fact that Ghostface was back and that he attacked Tara.

You still couldn’t wrap your head around that, you couldn’t figure out why he would attack Tara. Judy said there was no logic to these things but that wasn’t fully true. The reasons behind Ghostface killings were always debatable, sometimes no logic at all, but the attacks themselves always made sense, for the most part. Everything always went back to Sidney Prescott.

Over the years, there was always a group of kids that would think it would be funny to make a call to an unsuspecting classmate, using the Ghostface voice changer to scare them. The prank calls never ended in murder though, not in Woodsboro. You had seen a few reports on TV or pop up online talking about a Ghostface attack, but it was never real news, it never involved Sidney, it always ended up being some crazed fan trying to take over the mantle and kill a friend or some random person. Those instances always ended the same though, with the wannabe serial killer behind bars within a day. This was different though, you knew that. The attack on Tara was deliberate, you just didn’t know how or why.

You guessed, when you thought hard enough about it, Tara was sort of connected to those involved in previous attacks. A connection was a stretch though, you would barely call it a connection. Mindy and Chad’s uncle was Randy Meeks, who was involved in the first killings and then was killed in the second-round while at college. Wes was Judy’s son, and she was sort of involved in the 2011 killings, she was just a cop at the time, but she was part of the investigation. They were the most connected to anyone from previous killings, but Tara wasn’t at all, it didn’t make sense for her to be attacked first. It also didn’t make sense for her to be alive, you never heard of Ghostface allowing one of his victims, his first victim, to get away, you weren’t ready to go down that rabbit hole though.

“And where were you?” Amber asked, disrupting your thoughts. You glanced up to see her arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you.

You could almost laugh at the fact that she suspected you, as if you’d ever hurt Tara. “Work,” you said.

Amber scoffed. That got you clenching your jaw, you didn’t like the fact that she didn’t seem to believe you or was trying to get the others to doubt your answer. “You got something to say?” you asked, glaring at Amber.

“No,” she said innocently, holding up her hands in surrender. “I just think it’s interesting that the one night you’re not with Tara, she gets attacked,” she shrugged her shoulder nonchalantly.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You shot up from your seat, the chair scraping against the white tile from the force.

“You’re always at her place,” she stepped forward, raising an eyebrow as she continued to accuse you. “How would the attacker know she was alone? How did they even get into the house?”

You unclenched your jaw, shaking your head, as you let out a humorless chuckle. “Enough,” Tara interrupted before you could say anything. “Y/N didn’t do this.” She had that determined look in her eye as she looked up at Amber. “I talked to her while she was at work.”

“She could have left early,” Mindy mumbled.

Your head snapped to where Mindy sat, sending her a glare instead of Amber. You got it, they didn’t like you, but to think you would ever hurt Tara was ridiculous. “I trust her!” Tara snapped. Her hands shaking as she lightly gasped for breath.

“Hey,” you said softly, your tone doing a complete one-eighty from how it was just a second ago. “Easy.” You crouched down next to her and handed her her inhaler as you gently rubbed her shoulder.

Tara took a puff of her inhaler, letting out a shaky breath as she calmed back down. “Thank you,” she mumbled. You let out a sigh of relief at seeing her okay.

Before anyone else could say anything or start anymore fighting Tara’s phone started to ring. You looked around before finding the phone on the table beside her bed. You grabbed her phone with the intent to hand it to her when you paused at the sight of the name across the screen.

“Who is it?” Tara asked. You looked up to see her eyes unblinking as she stared at the phone, her hand began to lightly tremble. You handed it to her and silently sat beside her as she answered. “Mom?”

You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe a call from Ghostface would have been better. You watched Tara’s expression as she talked to her mother, ready to be right there if the conversation started to go in a direction you didn’t like. Amber rolled her eyes and moved across the room to lean against the wall furthest from Tara. She shook her head as Tara continued talking to her mom. The one thing you and Amber agreed on was that Christina Carpenter was not a good mother, she never did anything for Tara out of the kindness of her heart. You were actually surprised she managed to call her daughter, you figured she was off in some other country drinking all her problems away.

“Oh, okay,” Tara’s disappointed voice cut through your thoughts. “No, it’s fine. Y/N, Amber, and the others are here.” She nodded at whatever her mom was saying. “Yeah, lo-” the words died in her throat, her mouth still partly open.

You reached across her body, gently pulling the phone out of her hand. You clenched your jaw when you saw her blinking away the tears that had quickly begun to fill her eyes. The next time you saw Christina, you didn’t even care if it were a year from now, the next time you saw her, she would feel your wrath.

“She’s not coming?” Amber’s voice cut through the quiet. You held in a sigh as you glared at her, you might have shared her opinions on Christina, but you didn’t feel the need to force Tara to talk about it.

“She’s not in town anyway,” Tara said, shaking her head. “Her work is really important.” She smiled at all of you but only Chad was able to offer her a sad smile in return.

“More important than her daughter?”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” you snapped, crossing your arms as you glared at Amber.

“Enough!” Wes snapped just as Amber opened her mouth.

Everyone in the room jumped at Wes’s outburst. Wes was usually the calm one, the one that always tried to find a peaceful solution, even if he disagreed with the argument. You all dropped your heads and went back to your respective corners. You slumped back down in your seat by Tara’s bedside and Amber walked over, pushing Wes out of the way to take her place on the other side of Tara once again.

You scrolled through your phone as the others talked. Occasionally you would glance at each of Tara’s friends. All of them were acting normal, they were joking around, they were all clearly worried about Tara, but one of them could have been the one to attack her. You couldn’t imagine any of them as someone wanting to dress up like Ghostface and go around trying to kill people. That didn’t mean you could trust any of them though, Tara said someone turned off her alarm, maybe Ghostface hacked her system, or, the easier scenario, therefore more likely, was that whoever Ghostface was knew her alarm code, the only people outside of Tara and her mom who knew her alarm code was you and her friends.

You tensed, your eyes snapping to the door when you heard it begin to creak open. You sucked in a breath when you saw Sam, Tara’s sister, walk in, followed by some guy right behind her. Everyone else had a similar reaction, their conversation pausing mid-sentence as all their mouths dropped open, each of them standing up from their seats, Chad even folded his arms in front of him.

Sam froze for half a second, looking at all the eyes on her. She quickly got over whatever was going through her head and was at Tara’s side in a second, crouching down next to her. “How are you feeling?” Sam asked. It might have been five years, but you definitely didn’t miss the relief in Sam’s eyes and in her voice at seeing her sister alive.

“You came,” Tara said, sounding in disbelief. You couldn’t blame Tara for being shocked, to say the least.

Sam took off without so much as a goodbye five years ago and was never heard from again. You hadn’t met Tara yet when Sam left and you only sort of casually knew Sam from school, you had been a freshman when she was a senior, the two of you crossed paths, you both had been troublemakers. You recognized Tara’s last name when she had introduced herself when she happened to be in one of your classes a few years later. She had almost shut down when you asked if she was related to Sam, but you quickly changed the subject and just talked to her about the class. After a few months of being friends she had opened up about Sam and even five years later you still heard Tara mention her. Sam stopped responding to calls and texts, she even deleted all her social media, she was a ghost, but Tara still hoped one day her big sister would come back.

“Of course I came,” Sam said. She looked a little hurt that Tara would even ask that. “This is my boyfriend Richie,” she turned, introducing the guy who entered the room with her.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Richie said, leaning down to greet Tara. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding.”

While Tara greeted Richie, Sam made the rounds, hugging Mindy, Chad, and Wes. “These are Chad and Mindy, the twins, and Wes, I used to babysit them,” Sam introduced them to Richie. “And Amber, hey,” Sam shifted nervously.

“Hey,” Amber greeted coldly, giving a tight-lipped smile.

“Hi-Hi, I’m Richie,” Richie introduced himself, mostly to Amber. You scrunched your eyebrows, maybe he was just awkward around so many new people, but you were going to keep an eye on him.

“And Y/N,” Sam said, trailing off as her eyes landed on you. It seemed this was the first time since entering that she truly noticed you. “I didn’t know you two knew each other,” she gestured between you and Tara.

“Oh, they more than know each other,” Amber mumbled but everyone in the room had heard it.

You could see Sam’s body physically tense at the implication from Amber, she gave an uncomfortable smile towards Tara but didn’t say anything. You were sure when she got you alone you were certainly going to be hearing judgement from Sam, she probably agreed with the rest of the friend group, you weren’t any good for Tara and she could do better.

“Hey,” Richie greeted, holding his hand up in an awkward wave, either he didn’t know how to read the room, or he was failing at breaking the tension.

“Hi,” you said, giving him a small nod. Your greeting might have been even colder than Ambers, not that you really cared about that.

“Where’s mom?” Sam asked. You held in your eyeroll, that truly was the question. Tara’s sister who has been gone, without a word for five years, could come back to town after she’s been attacked by a psycho, but their own mother could barely be bothered to call Tara.

“She’s stuck at a conference in London,” Tara answered. “She called.”

“Yeah, for all of ten minutes,” Amber mumbled. You held in a sigh; she really didn’t know when to shut up sometimes. “Look, Tara’s really tired, maybe we should just give her some space.” It wasn’t posed as a question as Amber glanced around the room at the others who quickly nodded in agreement.

“Not you Sam,” Tara said when Sam began to follow the others out the door. “I want you to stay.”

Sam quickly nodded, unable to keep the small smile off her face. You watched Sam carefully, you had nothing against Sam, but you knew what her leaving did to Tara, you just didn’t want Sam to give Tara false hope if she was just going to take off again.

“If it’s okay with you,” Sam said hesitantly. “I could sleep here tonight.”

“I’d really like that,” Tara smiled up at her sister.

“Are you going to be, okay?” Amber asked in a caring tone as she leaned closer to Tara.

“Yeah,” Tara nodded.

“Don’t worry,” you said. “I won’t leave her side,” you smirked at Amber.

Amber lifted her head, glaring at you. “Cause you did such a good job protecting her last time?” Amber snarked.

Your smirk fell, you ignored the way Sam’s eyes landed on you after Amber’s words. You stood up from your chair, stepping face to face with Amber across the hospital bed. “As long as I’m standing,” you said, your tone dangerous. “No one is laying a hand on her.”

You and Amber continued to glare at each other, each of you waiting for the other to break. “Seriously,” Tara said, interrupting the stare down. “I’m fine. I have,” she raised her good arm gesturing around the room, mostly at you and Sam. “Enough protection.” Amber didn’t seem thrilled with Tara’s answer, but she left the room anyway.

“Do you want me to give you two a minute?” you asked softly. You didn’t want to leave Tara’s side but if she wanted time with her sister then you’d happily step out into the hall.

Tara nodded. “Okay,” you whispered. You leaned down giving Tara a long kiss on her forehead, ignoring the way Sam’s eyes never left you.

“You’re not leaving, right?” Tara asked when you got to the door, her voice shaking.

“I’ll be right outside this door,” you pointed at the door. You gave her an encouraging smile as you slipped out the door. The last thing you saw was Sam sitting down at Tara’s bedside and the last thing you heard was Tara beginning to silently cry to Sam.

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