#bitter!richie

[spywhitney]

How I sleep knowing I'll never trust anyone that hates Sydney but worships Richie:

[chebepowder]

😭 Incredible start to this very good article.

[outlawssweetheart]

i hope the bad guys win. i hope the good guys get their skulls bashed in.

The Mountain Goats & Kaki King, Mosquito Repellent

[24-guy]

If there was any doubt in my head about liking Hatchetfield.

It just got reinvigorated by watching Workin Boys.

[quality-on-a-patch-of-awesome]

Thank You, Goodnight (aka the Bon Jovi documentary) having the nerve to say 'This House is Not for Sale' being the first album to deal with the Richie stuff. Like there wasn't a whole ass album called 'Burning Bridges', the title song of which features the lyrics "after thirty years of loyalty, they let you dig your grave" and "maybe you could learn to sing or even strum along, I'll give you half the publishing, you're why I wrote this song" and might has well have just been called 'Fuck You, Richie Sambora'

[confinesofmy]

why does carmy, the smallest bear, not simply fire richie?

[irndad]

She favorites recipes on Instagram. 

It’s a little embarrassing how Carmen knows- that when she’s at his place watching him sketch dishes she can’t taste, he’s also paying attention to what’s on her phone. And it’s usually kistchy things- dresses and outfits with legwarmers, pop-culture breakdowns he doesn’t have time to understand, and yes, occassionally, recipes. 

Carmen adores her company. It’s a private truth, one that they boht know and yet he can’t admit under her gaze. She’s a friend of Richie’s which is endlessly fucking confusing. Both because of how incredible she is, and because it is truly insane to imagine Richie with friends. 

Carmen supposes they’re friends too, now. It doesn’t feel quite right, the way she scribbles notes for him in the mornings and has slept over quite often. She’s busy, has her own life and her own career and he’s lucky for the time he spends with her. He doesn’t really have time to date her the way he’d like to, with dinner dates and late night drives down Lake Shore, watching the sunrise over the lake on mornings where time feels like no object. 

He’s clearly given this some thought. 

Anyhow, it doesn’t matter now. Now, she’s slept over. He’s got a full-size, which felt like a good enough excuse to share the bed, even though every time they do he still ends wrapped around her like a vice, like roots of a tree, raveled in a way that seems inpenetrable. 

She’s sipping on an energy drink- he’s offered her the coffee that he’s imported, and prepared with care, but she’d obviously thought it was too bitter. And now he keeps energy drinks in the house when she stays over. She’s popped in one of her wired earbuds, and the light washes over her like a halo. She’s got a bonafide glow while she sits on his counter, scrolling through recipes. 

“That looks good,” he hears himself say, a little outside of himself, as she stops scrolling. It’s a pasta dish, and she’s favorited it. It looks more complex than it is, really, but he’s not sure he’s a good source.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I had it once when I was in Paris. It was fucking insane, Carmen, it’s so good. I’m always looking for a place to get it. I don’t really think there’s a place in Chicago where you can get it, actually.”

“It was seasonal actually,” he says back, her eyes fixed to his now, “Ever used to make it every fall. Easier to source the pine nuts.”

She looks so, so fond of him that Carmen could entertain the idea of leaning over the counter and kissing her. It’s incredibly tempting, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, endeared by his knowledge. He feels guilty, how he plays with the pencil, knowing she’s stared appreciatively at his hands. He enjoys being pretty to her, leaning into the fantasy that he could be more than her weird fuck-up friend of a friend that’s too chicken-shit to ask her out. How odd is it, that he knows what it’s like to wake up to the smell of her shampoo, but has no idea how she likes to be kissed?

He’s so bad at this he’s failed before he’s even started. 

He can cook, though. 

Cooking is methodical, and so he does it. it’s an easy love language, for him. he dices the parsely and the other fresh herbs, sautes them wirh precision, uses some of the nice butter from work- it’s a marvel, at the end of it, fragrant and warm, waiting for her arrival. 

When she does make her arrival, just on time for him, he plates the dish before she comes in. 

“Oooh,” she preens, raking her eyes up and down him. He feels perciebed, but in a way that he’d like to be. Look at me, he thinks. What a pleasure to be seen by her. “Is this all for me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stammers out, “Thought I’d thank you for all your help. Late nights you’ve been staying up with me, talking through the menu and all- thought I could make you something.”

When she tastes it, it’s careful and adoring, and he’s good at this. 

“Yes chef,” she says teasingly, “Oh my god, Carmen, this is so sweet. You didn’t have to do that. I like being here.”

He wants to kiss her again, doesn’t know why he’s not letting himself. She meets him halfway, though, kissing the corner of his mouth that only a fool would imply has plausible platonic deniability.  

“Thanks, Carm.”

“Anytime.”

He’ll kiss her properly next time.

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 2 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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Sam’s words die in the back of her throat when she sees me and for a moment we just stare at each other.

It’s been five years since we last saw each other, and even though I would still recognize her anywhere, she’s changed a lot.

She’s no longer a troubled teenager who relies on drugs and petty crime to feel good. No, she’s all grown up now, like me, and despite her tired and worry filled eyes she looks healthy. She looks good in her green jacket and with her hair up in a claw clip.

A wave of bitterness washes over me and I have half a mind to turn back around and walk out of the room again.

She came back for Tara, but she didn’t come back for me when I needed her the most.

I know it’s unfair to compare the two situations, I wasn’t attacked by a psycho, but I did almost die along with my parents.

“Y/N.” Her voice is soft, unlike the last time I heard it when she screamed at me to stop calling her.

I swallow harshly and try to keep any emotions off my face. “Hello, Sam.”

The twins share a confused look, and Wes and Amber watch Tara to see how she’s reacting to this unexpected reunion.

“You’re hurt.” She gets up from my chair next to the bed and takes a hesitant step toward me. “Tara said you were stabbed saving her.” I nod and when she takes another step forward, I instinctively take a step back. She freezes and something like hurt flits across her face.

It makes my insides clench up because I never thought I’d ever be the reason for that look on her face, but then again, she’s hurt me so much in the past, I think stepping back because I don’t want to be hugged or touched by her seems like a normal reaction.

She goes to say something, her brown eyes soft and pleading, but then the door opens and in steps a guy I don’t recognize.

“Sam do you want anything from the— Oh, hello,” he smiles when he sees me, oblivious to the tension in the room. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m Richie, Sam’s boyfriend.”

My heart drops. Boyfriend. Right.

I force myself not to look at Sam and shake his hand when he offers it to me. “Y/N. I’m. . .” Sam’s best friend? No, not anymore. “I’m Tara’s friend.”

His smile brightens and he says, “Ah yes, you’re the one who saved her, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” I say quietly, shifting my arm in the sling.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he continues. “What you did is very impressive. Not many people would have tackled a psychotic killer with a knife.”

My gaze darts to Sam for a split second. She’s sat back down next to Tara again, but her eyes haven’t left me. There’s now a guilty look on her face and when she realizes I’m looking at her, she quickly averts her eyes and buries her hands in her lap.

“Yes, well, it’s not like I had a choice,” I snap. I acted because I knew if I didn’t, Tara would get killed. I didn’t do it to come off as braver or heroic, and something about being praised for it rubs me the wrong way.

Richie’s eyes widen and he quickly tries to back-pedal. “No, of course not. I understand. I’m just saying—“

I clench my jaw and lift a hand to stop him “Save it. I don’t care.”

Technically, he’s done nothing wrong, but I already don’t like him and it’s not because he’s Sam’s boyfriend. No, that’s not the reason. Not at all.

“Y/N!”

Oh hell no.

“What, Sam?” I ask, pinning her down with a challenging glare.

She flinches and frowns. I’ve never, never, talked to her like this before.

“I—“

She’s once again interrupted just like when Richie entered the room. This time, however, it’s by Amber who speaks up with a sheepish smile on her face. “Guys, Tara is really tired. Maybe we should give her some space.”

I stop glaring at Sam and look at Tara. She does look pretty tired. Her eyes are glassy and it looks like every breath she takes is exhausting.

The twins and Wes agree, leaving with Amber after Amber gives Tara a hug. Sam gets up as well, but Tara asks her to stay and since I promised I wouldn’t leave until Ghostface is caught, I stay as well.

Richie looks back and forth between Sam and me, now no longer oblivious to the tension, before taking a seat on the chair in the corner.

Of course he’s staying, too. For fuck’s sake. . .

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” I ignore Sam who’s once again looking at me, and focus on Tara.

“Do you still have my inhaler?” she asks and I shake my head.

“No, I’m sorry. I dropped it in your driveway, but I can go and get it if you want,” I offer.

No matter what terms Sam and I are on, I know she won’t let anything happen to Tara if I’m not here, and if Tara wants me to go and get it, I’ll go.

Leaving will also give them a chance to catch up properly and while I’m out, I can go home and take a quick shower.

There’s still some dried blood in my hair that I want to get rid of and I’m itching to get out of the shirt the hospital gave me after they cut mine off me.

“Please. . .”

I smile reassuringly and squeeze Tara’s uninjured leg over the comforter. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.” My face hardens and I look at Sam, shooting her a pointed look.

You better keep her safe. . .

She nods and straightens up a little. I turn and leave before she can try and start another conversation. On my way out, I spare one last glance at Richie who smiles tentatively and waves.

Moron.

Eleven years ago

I jump on my bed, face first, and groan into the pillow. Today’s been a long day.

I didn’t have school because we’re on winter break, but hockey practice is still being held and today’s practice was particularly long and grueling.

My dad even laughed at how tired I looked after picking me up, and my mom made sure I had an extra large serving of dinner.

Now, I just want to sleep. I’ve eaten and showered, and I’m too tired to watch a movie on my laptop like I normally would. So, I wiggle around in an attempt to get under the comforter without getting up.

A moment later though, I stop at the familiar sound of someone tapping on my window. There’s only one person who climbs the tree outside my window to sneak into my room.

“It’s open,” I mumble with a smile on my face. I don’t bother getting up, or even turning around because I know she’ll join me on the bed in a few seconds anyway.

The window slides open and there’s some shuffling before her feet land on my floor. She shuts the window again, and my smile widens because any moment now she’ll jump on the bed.

I wait, and wait, but nothing happens.

“Sam?”

No answer.

My smile dims and when I hear a sniffle, I frown. I finally turn around and the sight that greets me makes me curse myself for not turning around earlier.

Standing in the middle of my room in nothing but a tank top and sweatpants is Sam. She’s shivering and has goosebumps all over her body, but that’s not what concerns me the most. No, what concerns me the most are the tears that are streaming down her face.

“Sam?” Alarmed, I shuffle off the bed and cup her cheeks, forcing her to look at me. “What’s wrong?”

Her brown eyes are red rimmed and her bottom lip quivers. Once again though, she doesn’t answer. Instead, she rushes forward and wraps her arms around my waist.

“Hey. . .” I return the hug and bring one hand up to the back of her head when she pushes her face against the side of my neck. “What’s wrong?”

She still doesn’t answer, so I figure she doesn’t want to talk about it.

What going on? Did she have a fight with Tara, or her mom?

We continue hugging without saying anything, just basking in each other’s company until Sam starts shivering.

“Sammy,” I try to break our hug, but she whines and claws at my back to keep me close. “You’re freezing.”

“I don’t care,” she whispers, and the defeat in her voices makes my heart hurt.

“But I do,” I argue softly, reaching behind me to unclasp her arms from around me. “Here, take this.” I take off my hoodie and slip it over her head. “There, much better.” I make sure it fits properly, un-bunching the bottom and fidgeting with the too-long sleeves before pulling her over to the bed.

She wordlessly slips under the covers and drags me down with her, cuddling up to me as soon as I’m within reach.

She stopped crying a while ago, but she’s obviously still feeling vulnerable, so I pull her closer and run my hand up and down her back.

This isn’t the first time we’ve found ourselves in this position, but it feels different than any other times before. Something has changed and I have yet to find out what it is.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep because the next time I open my eyes, it’s seven in the morning. I stretch and turn to maybe get some more sleep, but then I realize the bed next to me is empty.

“Sam?” I ask, but Sam is gone. The window is open and the spot next to me is still warm, so it can’t have been long since she left.

Present

I step out of the elevator and greet Deputy Vinson and a nurse who are chatting at the nurses’ station.

They nod and smile in greeting before getting back to their conversation, and I make my way to Tara’s room.

I feel much better now, having showered and changed into a new set of clothes. I took a cab from the hospital to Tara’s, grabbed her inhaler, and then drove my car back to my own apartment.

I also called Liam and Paige, updating them on the situation and telling them about Sam’s unexpected appearance.

They know how I felt about her in high school since the three of us have been friends since middle school. They offered to come to the hospital and act as a kind of buffer between Sam and me, but I obviously declined.

I’m more than capable of dealing with Sam’s presence, even if dealing with it is simply ignoring her or interacting with her as little as possible. She broke my heart a long time ago and even though I’d be lying if I said I was over it, I know it’s best to just stay away from her.

Someone rounding the corner and crashing into me at full speed rips me out of my thoughts. I stumble slightly and grasp at the wall to stop us from going down together.

“Hey! Watch where—“ Crap. So much for staying away.

My mouth snaps shut when I realize who ran into me, and then my eyes widen when I see the panicked look on her face.

“What’s going on?”

Sam clings to me and tries to push me back, away from where she just came from, and for a moment all the hurt, anger, and despair she’s caused is forgotten.

“Somebody tried to kill me in the break room!” she cries and without thinking, I wrap my arm that is not in the sling around her and pull her closer.

“What?!”

Our shouting alerts Deputy Vinson, who comes running over with his gun in hand.

“In the break room you say?” he asks, and Sam nods frantically. Without another word, he dashes off, gun raised and shoulders tense.

“Are you hurt?” I ask, breathless even though Sam’s the one who literally just fought off the killer. Her panicked eyes dart around the place, still sensing danger in every shadow, so I tighten my grip on her and repeat myself. “Sam, are you hurt?”

She finally looks at me and shakes her head, panting. “N-No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” I look her over but she seems to be telling the truth because I can’t spot anything amiss except maybe her disheveled hair which is no longer in its claw clip. She’s also taken her jacket off and is now only wearing a white t shirt.

She nods again which causes a few strands of hair to fall in her face. I instinctively reach up and tuck a piece behind her ear only to freeze a heartbeat later when my knuckles brush against her cheek.

What am I doing?

Sam is frozen as well and her brown eyes are darting all over my face, a storm of emotions raging in their depths.

I clear my throat and blink rapidly, stepping back. It makes her hands drop off my chest and I hate how I miss the warmth of her palms through my sweater.

“Y/N. . .”

“Sam!” Richie comes rushing around the corner and when he spots us he’s quick to pull Sam into a hug. “Oh my God, are you okay? Deputy Vinson just told me what happened.”

“I— Yeah, I’m okay.” Sam eyes linger on me and for a moment an emotion I can’t quite pinpoint flickers across her face. Then, however, she turns her attention to Richie and I look away when she lets him kiss her softly.

“Good. I was so worried,” he mumbles and if the kiss wasn’t too much for me already, his sickeningly sweet tone definitely is. I clench my jaw and brush past them, absolutely hating the hurt that settles on my chest and makes it hard for me to breathe.

Focus, Y/N. Tara needs you.

________________________________________________

This one’s a little bit shorter than the last, but I had to get some of the backstory stuff out of the way before the story picks up properly.

(Not proofread yet)

Tag list:

[t3l3vangelism]

NEW BOT ALRRT

new bots based on 8 songs that have been on repeat for me

note : just a small fyi, these are heavily, HEAVILY inspired by my lovers @voidsuites and @pearlzier!!! i meant to make wayyyyy more but like half of the songs I listen to on the daily are essentially about the same thing 😞

DEAN WINCHESTER ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Sarah by Mojave 3

dean had a part in raising sam , but he knew he was entirely responsible for raising his youngest sibling, user. so when sam runs off to college and user tries to follow, dean pushed them away. years later, they reunite and dean still feels a little bitter that they left him behind.

SAM WINCHESTER ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ California by Lana Del Rey

sam finally found solitude in someone else’s arms for the first time since jess passed. but when user starts asking too many questions about what he does for a living, sam decides to break it off for their safety whether they like it or not. months pass and sam finds himself back in california and dean heavily injured on a rough hunt. the nearest hospital is too far, but user is just down the block.

JOSH WASHINGTON ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ No one noticed by The Marias

after beth and hannah disappeared, josh formed a dependent relationship with user when they were the only one to show up in his time of need. now that everyone has agreed to return to his cabin for the one year anniversary of his sisters, josh can hardly stand anyone else holding user’s attention.

THEODORE NOTT ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ It’s good to be in love by Frou Frou

theo and user have been friends for years, user was really the only person he even considered a friend. over time, theo found himself growing feelings for user. however, user in in love with cedric. theo is forced to watch from afar, even growing distant from his friend until he accidentally confronted in them in the slytherin common room.

CARMEN BERZATTO ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Lover, you should’ve come over by Jeff Buckley

while carmen is trapped inside of his restaurant’s fridge, he goes through emotional turmoil thinking about the argument he got into with his partner the night before. richie obviously sensed the tension and tries to confront carmen while he can. his confrontation turns into a battle of fury until richie steps away, leaving carmen to scream against the metal door in front of him. he doesn’t know he’s alone until he’s faced with silence, he decides to break it by calling for the one person he hurt the most. he just hopes he wasn’t too deaf, dumb, and blind to lose them entirely.

JOEL MILLER ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Here in California by Kate Wolfe

joel’s first real world lesson was taught by his mother; don’t fall in love too quickly before you learn to know yourself. as he got older, he realized how important his mother’s advice really was. but when the virus hit, it seemed to get lost in the translation. years later, joel has found himself forming a wordless bond with user, a stranger ellie had forced him to help when tess was still around. but now they were in tommy’s little community, spending their first night together in front of a dim fire and joel feels the need to enforce his mother’s word.

FRED WEASLEY ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Chemtrails Over The Country Club by Lana Del Rey

fred basks in nature during the last few days of his honeymoon with user.

SYDNEY ADAMU ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ flamin hot cheetos by Clairo

sydney and user sit on the front steps of her apartment building, enjoying the crisp air of night. sydney rants about anything and everything she can about the recent hectic events since the opening of the bear. but when she realizes how intently user is staring at her, sydney’s mind once again wanders into questioning if the nature of their relationship is more than just friendly.

[answer2jeff]

this you knew.

warnings : (workplace) established but private relationship. fluff. that's about it actually.

also, this mostly just weirdly poetic and emotional writing. not a lot of plot or substance. sorry!

a/n: carmen refers to reader as "pico," short for "piccola" (small), and reader refers to carmen as raga, short for "ragazzone," (big boy) sorry if these nicknames are cringe they're cute to me !!!!

Fuck, it was cold.

Why did winter have to stretch out for such an excruciating amount of time? It had been snowing since late November—which, at this rate, might continue until March, give or take.

The holidays had just passed, stores were back open, The Bear was back under maintenance, leisure was nonexistent. There was no need for slush on the sidewalks and frost on your car window. You'd already spent the holidays with your extended family, even after swearing up and down you had no intention on coming home this year. Anything remotely related to that mistake needed to be disposed of.

Tonight was calm. Almost too calm. Richie and Marcus were still laying out the general foundation of the dining hall, and Carmen finally beat his record timing for passing through each station of the kitchen marked by green tape. You were pretty much free to go home. Especially since Sydney was the first to leave and encouraged you to do the same.

But just as you walked out of the empty kitchen space through the back door, something urged you to walk back in.

Just act like you forgot something.

Quickly swinging the door open and turning the corner into Natalie's office, where you knew Carmen would be, you stopped. Just barely near the frame.

Altered by your presence, Carmen snapped out of the trance that was staring at the empty space of the wall in front of him. He spun around in the 5-wheeled chair to face you.

"Raga?" you called out, not wanting to intrude as you stepped into the box of the office. Despite the door being wide open like it always was.

Raga. Sure, he wasn't a huge fan of petnames—but it made him feel like he was yours.

And he was. And you were his. Possibly for months now. And you even started to feel it. The word "boyfriend," though it wasn't used religiously, didn't feel bitter in your mouth. The way your name rolled off of Carmen's tongue was addictive to him. He preferred it over a simple 'she' when he spoke of you. You were chaos, but grace all in one.

You told your closest friends about a week after he spoke the words

"I don't really know what I'm doing, but that's—that's okay. It's more than okay. I want this."

But you hadn't told your family, and not even your true, chosen one. Which was here, in this restaurant, and everyone who played a part in it. But perhaps they already knew. Neither you or Carmen were particularly good at keeping secretes.

Just because your mouth stopped, didn't mean your body language or your face did.

Smiles and glances, whispers in corners of the restaurant incoherent to anyone else, his kisses against your temples that weren't as discreet as he hoped, it made it obvious.

But it felt right. This was okay. More than okay.

"Pico?" he repeated, mirroring that same skeptical voice you used just seconds earlier.

Eyebrows knitted with concern, your teeth gnawing at the inside of your cheek, you stood with your weight on your hip and your arms crossed against your chest. Carmen realized you stood like this all the time. But right now, he almost felt like he was in some kind of trouble; the way you eyed him above his level. Like you'd been looking for him and he failed to come to your assistance.

His urge to cave and melt into you was overwhelming. Big, blue eyes peered up at you as he leaned forward, prepared to listen. You only smiled while shrugging your shoulders and leaning against the doorframe.

"Think everybody went home. I didn't really see y'leave. Just—" you swallowed, "—wondered if you'd left or not."

That seemed to finally be enough to soothe him. You just wanted to know if he was here; if he was okay and ready to go home like he should've been.

"Uh—yeah, yeah, I'm still here."

"Yeah, I see that now."

The room stilled. Silence bounced off the drywall. But it was comfortable. It wasn't forced or unwanted. Just simple. And simplicity was scarce at the moment.

"C'mere," Carmen mumbled as he motioned his hand to signal you to come in, his voice barely audible, "just for a 'sec."

Caving in, his cadence and the look in his eyes being enough to convince you, you stepped in. He blinked slowly so as to not miss a single bit of you. For once, you could appreciate the slow of time in this room.

"I'm feeling really good about this," you smiled down at him, "this whole thing, I mean. Mikey woulda' been so proud 'f you, Carmen."

The lump in his throat was harshly swallowed back down as he nodded his head, not quite smiling, but not frowning either. You knew that face all too well. It was the face of guilt. He always wondered if he'd been doing the right thing. Lately it'd been easier to convince himself that the renovation was right, and that he was completely and fully capable of making these "adult decisions," as you called them.

"Thank you."

It was mostly thanks to you, though.

A delicate hand reached for a curl that fell just past his eyebrow. You wrapped the blonde strands around your finger, glancing from his eyes and back to his hair, just to see if he'd been watching you as closely as you hoped. Almost as if it had been second nature, he tilted his head up for easier access as you pulled away from his hair and reached to cup his clean-shaven cheek.

"I mean it, bear," your thumb gently caressed his skin as you spoke. He looked up at you as if he'd just found God in your eyes.

"I know," he tried to protest, giving you a weak smile and threatening to pull his head away.

But he waited.

There'd never been anyone in the universe, on the planet, in the country, in the culinary industry, in this city, or in this restaurant who saw through you the way Carmen Berzatto did. He'd been your head chef even before what was then, The Beef. You followed him back to his home city even months after the two of you made a pact to quit your last job as his sous, and his as your head chef. There was nothing you wanted more than to see him chase his stardom.

You loved him. This you knew.

"You're better at what you do than you'll ever give yourself credit for."

This he knew. At least now he did.

You took him in again with one look. His little moles here and there, his blue eyes, the rose of his cheeks. And at a moments notice, you leaned down to kiss him like it was the last thing you'd ever do. Carmen rose without even letting your lips separate. His hand planted itself at your waist as the other held the back of your head and gently buried itself into your hair. He tasted like cigarettes and mint with a hint of that bitter and filmy residue left on pill capsules.

He loved you. This you knew.

"Maybe you should give yourself some credit, too."

This you knew.

[onlystylesangels]

Silent Struggles

Anon: I might have a request … :) so what if harry found fem!Y/N’s pack of cigarettes and he didn’t know she smoked bc she never mentioned anything and he talks to her bc he’s concerned?/ Anon: H's girl seems to be acting off and he confronts her and it turns out she's been dealing with some depression and anxiety and she's been to scared to let anyone in or... reader seems to be going through something and hasn't told anyone about it and starts smoking cigarettes; dealing with her problems alone.

Warnings!!!: talks about anxiety, talks about depression, smoking, fluff, Harry being a supportive boyfriend, reader feeling insecure

A/N: Hello!!!! I know it's been a very long time since I have posted a new Harry writing. But here it is, lovies! I hope you enjoy this one. !!!***Before you read I want to start by saying that you are loved and you're precious to this world. I love you, yeah, you the lovely person that's reading this. I care about you and there are so many people around you that care for you too. Please if you're going through something, don't fight alone. Please tell someone what you're going through. Please be safe. -A <3

It happened as always. At night you would wake up from a nightmare, open the drawer from your nightstand and rummage for your new pack of cigarettes, the plastic wrapper still intact. You took two cigarettes out and grabbed your lighter. You walk into the balcony and start the fire. You inhale a sharp breath and let out the hollowing contents of nicotine. It felt nice. Feeling the nightly fresh air hit your exposed arms, goosebumps adorning your skin as you puff out smoke from your mouth. It happened as always, as a freshly new night routine. 

The next morning you woke up with the bitter taste of nicotine filling your senses and feeling a bit dizzy when you sat up from bed. You quickly grab your phone and look at the time. It was already 9am and you were positive that you were going to be running late to the local bookstore. 

So, you take a shower and put on clothes that may or may not have matched together to create a decent outfit, but fuck it. You were about to be late so you had to work with what you had. You quickly dashed to the kitchen and prepared a quick breakfast and made sure to message Harry. 

“Hi bubba! I’m heading out to work. I’ll see you later today, okay? Love you.”

“Sounds good, love. I love you too. Make sure to drink enough water!” 

Harry, always the caring type. You loved that about him. Having a person loving you for you and always making sure that you were doing okay was one of the blessings that you took for granted. If only it were that easy to show that same love to yourself.   

“Richie! Did you get a chance to call Davy? His favorite book just came in and he had first dibs on the book” You shout out to your coworker who always seems to be too busy to work as he is sitting at the back corner of the bookstore, scrolling through his phone. Pesky phones, fucking culprits of rotting out your brain.  

“Haven’t gotten a chance, Y/N. Why don’t you call ‘em?” Richie sends you a head nod and immediately looks down at his phone. Fucking twat.

You roll your eyes and walk towards the front desk and call Davy. But before you start pushing down the buttons on the phone you see someone come in.

“Hey Y/N! Has that book come in here yet?” The man of the hour. Davy, the active reader and loyal customer of the Blues Blues Bookstore. 

“Hey there, Davy. I was literally just about to call you. I got that book reserved here for you. Hold on.” 

You walk towards the back of the store and retrieve the book that had a bookmark with his name plastered on it. You walk towards the entrance and hand it to him. He quickly takes the book in his hands and begins turning the pages. 

“I love it! Thank you again, Y/N! Glad I got here as quickly as possible.” 

You turn towards the computer and begin typing away, clearing the book for Davy.

“My pleasure, Davy. Just make sure to always come back. You’re keeping us in business, remember?” You joke, making Davy laugh and giving you an eye roll.

“Yeah, yeah. I recommended some people to come by to the store. Not sure if they found their way in yet.”   

“Haven’t seen any new faces lately. I would ask Richie, but that twat doesn’t do anything here, so I guess no new customers.”

“Hmm, you should bring that up to Daya. I’m sure she’ll fire the guy.”

Firing Richie, tsk, that guy is literally family to Daya. Even if you tell her that Richie doesn’t do anything in the store she’ll find a way to defend him and tell you off. There is no way that you would ever start a conversation regarding firing Richie to Daya; she’ll never believe or listen to you. 

“We’ll see.” Is all you say as Davy puts his new book in his satchel.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N.” Davy says as he starts walking towards the doors. “Oh, and tell that boyfriend of yours hi. I haven’t seen that English man in a while.” 

You smile at the thought of him bringing up Harry. 

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll tell him you said hi. See you Davy.” You wave goodbye to him as he does the same. 

During your break time you try to sneak in some time to smoke a cigarette and make sure that the door you come out from is shut tightly. You feel dumb for hiding your recent cigarette intake from people, but then again, people see you as the nicest and innocent person on earth. Yeah, sure. But you kept thinking about the deadline. Your personal deadline that you set yourself to meet someone at the law college that you have been researching on. 

For a couple of months now you’ve been thinking about applying to a local law college in your city and were afraid to continue the process. You continuously had non-pep talks about how you would be a terrible law student and that you may not make it to getting accepted into the college. This and telling anyone about it was just too much for you to handle. You didn't even tell Harry yet. You knew why you didn’t want to tell anyone; you didn’t want to burden them with your problems. Problems that you knew were affecting you mentally and emotionally. 

= = = 

After the break you couldn’t stop the thoughts running through your mind. The mere thought of reaching out to the law school representatives and going to that mandatory interview to see if you were worth being a candidate for their college was already too much to think about. And so you continue your work in the bookstore. Putting new books up on the shelves and welcoming customers into the bookstore. Parents accompanied with their children as you reach for the candy jar under the front desk to offer to the children. You liked your job at the bookstore, but you felt like you needed a change of scenery, especially after working there for four years. And the thought of leaving this job and trying something new frightened you.

A couple of minutes before you were off. There was a ding heard at the entryway.

“Sorry, we’re closed. You can come by tomorrow at-” You look up from the front desk and notice that it’s Harry. Carrying a bouquet of flowers in his hands. His hair started to grow from the buzz cut he got months ago. Gray trousers and loose fitting t-shirt that was starting to rip at the neckline. You told him to throw that shirt away but he always replied by saying that it was his lucky shirt. Did you believe him? Of course not, but if he claims it is his lucky shirt then it’s his lucky shirt.

“Harry!” You run towards him ignoring the stack of books that were in front of you that needed price tags. 

Harry smiles and hugs you back as he kisses your cheek. “Hi, my love.” You walk back a bit and finally take notice of the bouquet of flowers in his hands. 

“And these?” 

“Oh, I got ‘em for Richie. You know that marvelous coworker of yours,” He lies through his teeth, your eyes rolling at the mention of his name. He notices your change of mood and lifts your chin with his thumb. “Hey, lovie. I’m joking. These are for you. I saw them at the local flower shop and thought that you would like ‘em.” Your lips start curving into a smile and you give him a kiss on the lips.

“Thank you, Harry,” you smell the flowers and softly touch the flower petals, “They’re gorgeous.”

“You’re welcome, my love.” Harry follows you as you go towards the backroom. Retrieving your things and ready to call it a day at the bookstore. 

“Ready?” Harry asks you. You smile in response and immediately grab his hand as he leads you both to the exit. You lock the doors to the bookstore and leave walking hand-in-hand with Harry.

You reach your apartment and unlock the door to your little home. You walk in along with Harry and make your way to the sink and grab a vase under the sink cabinet. Harry watches you as you fill the vase with water and stick the flowers in it; he admires your acts and just leans his weight on the kitchen island and stares at you as if you were this beautiful undiscovered galaxy. 

You catch him staring and you get shy all of a sudden. You get a bit self-conscious, but then that feeling goes away when Harry walks towards you and cups your cheeks. 

“You’re so pretty, Y/N.” You feel your cheeks get hot and you quickly turn your head away from his gaze; not even hiding the smile that you had. Harry chuckles and swiftly turns your head back to his gaze. “Don’t hide from me, love. It’s just me.” Harry teases, the back of his hand smoothly running down your cheek. 

“You make me nervous, Harry.” You confess, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you making me shy.” 

Harry picks you up and walks towards the couch. He keeps you on his lap as you continue hiding away from him. You both have been dating for over a year and so you must’ve at least gotten used to all those times that Harry gets you all flustered, but you haven’t yet. It’s like falling in love with him for the first time. That’s how you feel right now. Your body is so close to his and his arms wrapped around your body as he just holds you. Appreciating your presence; he held you in strong arms as if he was afraid to let you go. And he was.

For the rest of the evening you both order takeout from two different restaurants because you were craving two of your favorite foods. Harry happily ordered from the two restaurants as he left you in an excited mess. Excited that you were finally going to eat those foods that you craved for so long. The food doesn’t take long for it to arrive at the apartment and so you and Harry eat on the couch and watch some movies to pass the time. You both joke around about the characters from the movie that you were both watching and made the night pleasant. 

As the night went along, you were laughing along with Harry and enjoying being in each other’s company. You wished you could be there on the couch all night, but you were starting to yawn and your eyes starting to droop from how sleepy you were. Harry noticed and turns off the tv and grabs your hand and leads you both to your bedroom. He lets you go into the bathroom first to start your night routine as he lies down on the bed scrolling on his phone. 

You walk out the bathroom and stand over the bed and lean down to meet Harry’s eyes. He plops his phone down on his stomach and you take this opportunity to kiss his pink lips. 

“Mm, I don’t want to shower anymore.” He whines in between kisses. You chuckle and grab both of his hands and try your best to lift your boyfriend up from the bed. Jeez, you weren’t an active gym-rat, but from just lifting up his body you felt like you did a whole workout.

“Damn, Harry.” You swipe a hand over your forehead. Harry laughed in response. 

“My bones are heavy, love.” He simply responds as he walks towards your dresser and opens up his designated drawer that has some of his clothes in it. “Be right back, lovie.” He looks behind him and sees you starting to make yourself comfortable on your side of the bed. 

“Don’t take too long.” You respond

“I’ll try not to.” He walks to the bathroom with a new pair of clothes hanging on his shoulder. He leaves the door open; the showerhead turning on.

A couple of minutes pass and Harry walks back into the bedroom; drying his hair as best as he could. It was easier for him to dry it now that it was shorter. You lift up the bed covers inviting him inside the warm cocoon. You both lie together, Harry spooned you from behind and as you brought one his arms up to your chest. You both fall asleep into a quiet slumber. 

But you wake up after a couple of hours. You didn’t even bother to check the time as you opened your eyes and slowly removed Harry’s arm from hugging your body. You sit up and walk towards your bedside drawer; already knowing your nightly routine. You grab the pack of cigarettes that were hidden under some of your favorite books and miscellaneous items that you kept forgetting to get rid of. You also get a lighter that was stashed inside your purse and go outside to the balcony.

The butt of the cigarette blazes to life as you take a breath in of the substance and slowly let a breath out. Your thoughts once again start to disappear with every intake of breath you take. It numbed them, made them disappear, but only temporarily. You knew that smoking was making your lungs get sore and your nose wrinkling still not getting used to the smell of the smoke, but you didn’t care at that moment. It numbed everything, it numbed your problems and it made everything feel-- better.

As you continued puffing out air of smoke you continued looking up at the sky, stars aligning the horizon randomly. With each puff of smoke you felt the anxiety slowly go away. You were almost down to the brim of the cigarette, so you could comfortably go back to sleep. Once you were about to inhale one last breath of nicotine you heard footsteps making its way towards the balcony. You freeze and hold the cigarette in your  fingers, bringing your hand to your side. 

“Y/n?” Harry says as he rubs the sleepiness out of his eyes. “What are you doing out here, it’s la-” He stops himself once he notices what’s in your hand. He looked confused, he didn’t know you smoked. 

“Harry.” You reply. The cigarette is still in between your fingers, burning away. 

“I- I didn’t know you smoke.” Harry begins slowly walking towards you, concern sketched in his eyes.

You look down at the cigarette that continues to burn away and you feel tears start welling up in your eyes. You bring the cigarette up in front of you and stomp it on the floor, watching as the smoke starts consuming your nose. Regret. Regret is what you were feeling as you turned to Harry’s presence, his demeanor causing you to feel like a deer in front of headlights. You’re sorry. Sorry that you never told him that you picked up smoking because of not having anything else to control your anxiety. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t know what else to do.” 

Harry runs to you and embraces you with all his might. “Oh love. Come here.” You snuggled into his embrace and began crying. You held onto his arms so tightly that you were clutching onto him afraid of him letting go. Letting you go.

“I was scared. I just wanted to help… myself.” You mutter.

Harry held you as he ran his hands down your back. He would occasionally massage your head. “I promise you baby, I am going to be here for as long as you want me to, then you can let me in and help you.” He held onto you tightly and he kissed the side of your face. Harry let you cry on his chest as he rubbed your back soothingly, trying best to comfort you.

“I just felt alone.”  

Harry steps back a bit and looks you in the face, concern written all over his green irises. He held your hand in his and met your eyes filled with tears.“You have me, darlin’.” Harry said, his fingers lightly brushing away the stranded tear on your cheek. “I’m right here, Y/N.” He reassures you. Bringing you close to his body again.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I’m sorry.” You let out, Harry cupping your cheeks trying to calm your nerves. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. You have nothin’ to apologize for, lovie.” He looks at your bloodshot eyes. Seeing you sad like this he felt broken. Broken that he didn’t know how to make you feel better, broken because he hated seeing you without a smile on your face. Broken that he wasn’t aware that you were hurting. “Is it okay if I ask what’s going on?” He said with a soft voice. 

“I– I just been sad and overthinking, okay.” You let out, your hands coming up to cover your face. You felt ashamed, as if a parent just witnessed the most disappointing act from their child. You hated feeling insecure in your own skin; you felt worse that it was Harry that was looking down at you with concern in his eyes and his body weight shifting to softly take your hands in his and seeing your face. 

“Hey, hey. Y/N, baby, you’re scaring me. What are you sad about,” Harry steps back a bit giving you room to speak and mostly giving himself self-control from forcing you to share what’s been making you sad. “Baby, I’m right here, okay. It’s just me.” 

You slowly turn your head away from his gaze and look at the sky. Your hands no longer covering your flushed face, but now twiddling with your shirt, Harry’s shirt. You feel bad that you now created droplets of tears on the collar of his favorite shirt. 

“I just have been dealing with a lot of negative thoughts and I just… sniffle… I didn’t want you to worry about me.” Your hands constantly were moving from your face down to your shirt. Harry catches your little antics and walks towards you, slowly, making sure that he has a good distance between you two before he starts again.

“Y/N. I had no idea that you were going through something. I had the feeling that you were acting a bit different, but never thought that something was affecting you,” He waits for your permission to come in closer and so he takes no time and has his hands cupping your cheeks. Tears staining your beautiful cheeks that he so dearly loved taking his time in kissing and feeling your soft skin against his ring-clad fingers. “I wished I knew you were going through something.” He confessed, sensing a feeling of regret that he felt for not seeing the signs of you feeling depressed and not being your energetic-self. Now as he looks back, he noticed your change of behavior. Being a bit more reserved, but still communicating with him which led him not sensing a shift of you. 

 “You always told me that it was your period messin’ with ya mood. I was so stupid to believe that. Baby, I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you.” 

It’s true. You shared to him that the past couple of months when he would suggest going out to shopping outlets and going out for dinner you would simply reply that you weren’t in the mood to go out in public. That your period was getting the best of you and drained your energy. It was true that you had bad days when you were on your period, but you made him believe that it was your menstrual cycle being the culprit of you feeling drained. 

“I’m sorry, Harry.” You cried out, his hands holding your head as he hugged your frame and landed kisses on your head. 

“It’s okay. I know now that you haven’t been feeling good. Jus’ let me help you, yeah?” Harry looks down at you, your eyes bloodshot as a soft smile creeps up on Harry’s lips. You follow suit and slowly mimic a smile back. 

Harry leads you back to the bedroom and lets you sit on the edge of the bed. “‘M going to start a bath for you. Is that okay?” 

You nod in agreement and he starts turning on the bath faucet, making sure that the water is warm enough to calm your body and hopefully make you feel a bit better. As he is sure that the water is at the right temperature he comes back to the bedroom where you are still sitting on the bed. He kneels in front of you and looks up at you, his hands running up and down your arms gently. 

“The water is almost ready for ya. I’m gonna get those bath bombs you like so much and light up some candles.” He says, reaching towards your head and landing a kiss on your forehead. You softly smile at his action and continue looking at his beautiful eyes that you could never get tired of looking at. 

He goes back to the bathroom and takes a blueberry muffin scented bath bomb and throws it inside the bathtub as he watches the water fizzle and quickly change into a dark blue hue. He then lights up a couple of candles and sets them on the sink cabinet.

He comes back to the bedroom and Harry motions for you to stand up and you do and follow behind him making your way to the bathroom. He’s about to leave you alone in the bathroom for you to get undressed, giving you privacy.

You quickly reach towards his hand and he stops from walking out the bathroom. He looks back at you waiting for you to say something. 

“Stay, please.” You mutter softly. His hand slowly intertwines with yours as he shuts the door behind him and walks towards you. Nodding in agreement as he follows suit and starts undressing. You motion for him to help you unclasp your bra and he quickly does it with ease. 

You step into the warm water and instantly feel the water relieving your tired muscles. You didn’t even realize how tense your muscles were. Harry then follows you and lands both feet on the warm bathtub. He lies down first and motions for you to lie down against his chest. You carefully situate your body close to his and feel his thick thighs wrap around your own legs, his arms wrapping around your mid area. Your breasts touching his forearms. Your skin sinking into the warm embrace of the scented water as you shiver, goosebumps trailing on your skin yet again from the cool air coming from the bathroom. Harry cups his hands into the water and brings it up to splash water on your chest and remaining skin that has yet to make contact with the warm water. You smile from his gentle mannerisms as you lean back into his chest, your head cradling on top of his chest. You look up at him as he smiles down at you, dimples on full display. 

Harry kisses the top of your head and you close your eyes and smile in response. His soft touches always make you feel relaxed.

“You want to talk ‘bout it?” Harry asked, his hands making small circles on your belly.  

“No. But I need to talk about it,” You reply, holding onto his free hand that’s holding onto the tub. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that I have been thinking about going back to school. Law school.” You confess, playing with Harry’s fingers and tracing his knuckles.

“That’s exciting, love. I’m happy that you’re thinking about going back to school.” He soothes your belly some more. 

You turn your head just enough to catch his gaze. “Yeah, but I know how much you want to move in together. I want to move in together too, but law school isn’t cheap.” 

“We’ll figure it out together. I can always pick up extra shifts at the tattoo parlor and maybe sell some of my songs on the side.” Harry assures you. 

“But, I don’t want you working too hard for my sake. That’s one of the reasons why I was afraid to tell you this.” You turn your attention back to Harry’s freehand and continue tracing his knuckles. 

Harry catches this and softly tilts your head so he could see your eyes. “Hey, lovie. We’re in this together. If you have dreams of your own I will stand by you and help you achieve those dreams. We’re a team, yeah?” 

You smile up at him. Tears slowly start to blur your vision. You have always been like this. When new problems would arise you would shut-off, you wouldn’t tell anyone about what you were going through and it was hard for you to ask for help. You were that friend that always told people to reach out to you if they were going through something, but that’s the exact thing that you don’t do. Leaving yourself to fend for yourself; self-sabotaging yourself. 

You look away and land your hands on your knees, feeling tears starting to slide down your cheeks again. “I feel like such a loser. Why is this small thing bothering me so much?” You quietly say. 

Harry shifts his body just enough so he could see the state that you’re in. He moves a couple of your wet strands away from your face and tucks it behind your ear. “Hey, don’t call yourself that. You’re not a loser. You’re my beautiful girlfriend who's the strongest person I’ve ever known.” 

Pfft. “Strong?” You repeat, feeling an urge of disgust with yourself. 

“Hey, whatever you’re feeling, we’ll get through it together. You’re strong for sharing what you’re going through.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Harry.” You turn your head and stare at his eyes. Wanting to feel his lips against yours.

“It’s okay, baby.” He kisses your shoulder and notices how your gaze looks at his lips. He meets your eyes and leans close to kiss your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his body closer to yours, feeling his body heat. Your arms run down his tattooed arm and leave his lips wishing for more as you start kissing his swallows on his chest. 

He brings your face close to his. “We’ll do this together, lovie. I promise.” He says through kisses, kissing every crevice of your face, making you smile from his facial hair tickling your skin. 

As you two finish up bathing and drying your bodies and changing into clean clothes; you started to feel better. You weren’t sure if it was because you finally told Harry what you were going through, or if it was because you had Harry with you being that only person to see you at your lowest and comforting you. You didn’t know, but you felt good.

You both get ready for bed. Harry finishes brushing his teeth and putting a serum on his face that you recommended him to try. You lay down on the bed waiting for Harry to walk into the bedroom. He discards his shirt and throws it somewhere in the bedroom. Thinking about that in the morning he’s going to be looking for that garment all morning. The thought of it makes you smile. 

Harry walks to the bed and lies down. He motions you to climb on him and you do as you carefully situate one of your legs to be between one his legs. You look at him to check if he looks comfortable.

“Is this okay?” You asked, he nods and slides a hand under your shirt, his hand running up and down your back. He kisses the crook of your neck. You lie your head on his chest and hear his heart beating in a steady rhythm. With the thumping of Harry’s heart you begin drifting off into sleep. 

“Goodnight, lovie.” Harry whispers to you. But you were already out. Harry takes it as a clue that you have already called it a night when you didn’t respond back. He smiles to himself and continues running his hands over your back, feeling your body relax to his soft touch.

That night was the first night that you felt good, happy even. You felt relieved, this was one of the first nights that you slept through the whole night. You didn’t wake up to a nightmare clouding your unconscious mind. You had Harry next to you, hugging your body, feeling his warm breath hit the crevices of your neck, feeling his arms wrapped around you as if you were his only safe haven.

The next day…

“You want me to be there with you while you fill out the college application?” Harry asks you as he takes a sip of his tea. 

You hold the mug of freshly brewed coffee and smell the vanilla hazelnut creamer and instantly making you melt. 

“You would do that?”

“Of course. I want to be in every step of the college process, if you let me.”

“I would love that, Harry.” You smile as you set down your mug. 

“Okay, my love,” Harry kisses the top of your head and whispers "I love you” to you. “I’m going to get something for us to eat. I’ll be right back.” He takes his wallet and spare keys into one hand and leans towards you where you sit in the kitchen island. “Kissy?” 

Kissy. A cute little phrase that you would both ask each other to ask for permission for a kiss. A phrase that started since you two were dating for five months. A little phrase that was childish, but you both didn’t care. It was cute. 

You smile up at him. As you took another sip of your coffee, then another one. Teasing Harry as a pout started to appear on his face. He then started blinking his eyes furiously making you stop drinking from your mug. He got you there.

“Kissy.” You lean over to him and kiss him. You cup his cheek and run your freehand into his hair. He moaned into your touch making you smile in response. 

“I’ll be back, yeah?” 

“Okay. I love you Harry.” 

“I love you.” 

He walks out the door with his spare keys being the only thing you hear as he makes his way down the corridor. Leaving you alone with your mug of coffee half-way filled in front of you. You walk to the living room and grab the laptop that was on top of the coffee table and bring it back to the kitchen island. You set it there and wait. You stare at the black screen of the laptop as your reflection looks back at you. You continue taking small sips of your coffee and wait until Harry comes back. 

////////

“Hey, darlin’ I got your favorite snacks and lunch from that Vietnamese restaurant you like.” Harry enters into the small apartment and takes you by surprise. You were reading a book that you always put off. He walked towards you and set the bags of food on the kitchen island in front of you. 

“Are you ready, lovie?” 

As time passed you completed the university application and stopped yourself to double check on every detail that you added on the application. You felt nervous, anxious about completing the whole college application process, but you knew that it was going to be worth it in the end. You were glad that you had Harry with you filling the application, because you wouldn’t have had the courage to fill it out on your own. You were happy that you were accompanied and had his support. Harry didn’t ignore the anxiety and the way that you would play with your fingers while filling out the online application. This was a lot for you and he understood that you needed a well-deserved break. 

“Hey baby, take a small break,” Harry grabs the laptop and closes it, but making sure that he saved the application before doing so. “Here, get some foodsies.” Harry passes you the large bowl filled with your favorite pho. 

You take a mouthful of the delicious seasoned soup and sigh as you feel the warmth of the soup comforting your body, leaving you in a relaxed state. “Thank you my love,” you take a napkin and wipe the corners of your mouth. “I missed pho so much.” 

Harry smiles in response as he takes a bite of his own pho. He sits closer to you as his knees touch yours. He gave you frequent glances as a way to know that you were eating well and keeping note of your reactions. You were comfortable which made him happy. 

The night went along well. You finished applying for the university and only waited to get a response back. A couple of weeks it would take before you would get a response. So you continued going to the bookstore and you were starting to share more things with Harry, something that you didn’t do before. You shared more about your past, your family. He knew about your parents and other closer family members, but you never went into depth with other important people that you grew up with back home. You were happy to share more of your life with Harry. 

You both spent more time with each other more often. If you called Harry that you were feeling down, Harry would drop what he was doing and quickly get to your apartment as fast as he could. If you were on your period and Harry knew about it he would stay the whole week to make sure that you were taking care of yourself and to obviously spoil you. Just because flowers were his favorite habit of showing you that he loved you and would randomly gift you little crochet stuffies from a local independent shop. He eventually got you so many that you were running out of spaces where to put them, but you loved every little crochet plushie, they were just so cute! 

The more time that you spent with Harry you hadn’t picked up a cigarette. After Harry found out that you were smoking to relieve what you were feeling he didn’t judge or tell you that you had to stop smoking. Instead, he didn’t mention it, but acknowledged that it was something that you picked up when you were feeling depressed. So, you were grateful that he was there with you along the way of you figuring out how to slowly stop smoking. 

Weeks later…

And so you waited two weeks. In those two weeks a lot happened. Harry was getting his stuff ready to officially move in with you. Nothing much happened, just helping Harry move in his boxes and get him situated in your now shared apartment. He was excited to start living with you and as he said it “Happy to wake up next to my lovie every mornin’.” You were ecstatic to live with Harry, and, well, he already was living in your apartment when he would stay some nights, but this was going to be different. You were going to wake up next to him every morning and being grumpy on Saturday mornings because Harry would wake you to go on morning runs. On a Saturday out of all days! But you were getting too used to him living in your shared space.

Later that week you received an acceptance letter from the university that you applied at. When Harry came to the apartment from work that same day you told him out of excitement. He hugged you tight and gave you so many kisses that overwhelmed you, but you didn’t care you were too happy. The following week you spent a whole week getting school supplies. Harry came along of course picking out the most random things that he swore that you would use in college. Who needs three white boards and two big packs of big sticky notes? You were content in getting one white board and one big sticky note pack just to make Harry feel better. 

“But you’re gonna need two of ‘em, lovie.” 

You chuckle at his antics, “Why two Harry? I just need one.” 

Harry stares down at the plastic covered white board in his hands. “Cause ya gonna need to jot down our date nights. You can’t fit everythin’ on one white board.” He reminds you.

“Bubba, one is enough.” 

You take the white board and pack of stickies with you along with some other supplies. Harry followed behind as he kept putting in colorful markers and journaling stickers in the cart. He definitely made that shopping trip amusing. And you loved every moment of it. 

Four years later…

You sat at every class lecture and followed along what the professors talked about. You were present, you were dedicated and it paid off. There were times where you had breakdowns because of the workload that law school brought to you and it was a lot to handle. The anxiety that was kept at bay was slowly creeping onto you during those troubling school semesters that were always heavy with coursework, but you always had Harry there to guide you through breathing techniques. It was a lot, but you were happy that you were pushing through those semesters for you, for your future and Harry’s. You were proud all those days that you showed up to class prepared to learn the material and to later take the bar exams.

Those four years really did pay off. Cap and gown on and a smile on your face as you waited for your name to be called on the intercom. You walked onto stage as you had the urge to cry, but you stopped yourself because you knew that this was your moment. You were ecstatic that you finally met your goal. Going to school and having Harry and your close family members with you during this long journey. Happy that you were no longer alone… well, you were never alone, but you finally knew what it felt to let people in, let people care about you and let them hear your struggles. You were no longer suffering in silence. You were now walking down the stage with a diploma in your hand, holding onto your biggest achievement and you were excited to see what the future held for you. You knew that whatever life would bring you, you would no longer fight it alone, because you had people and you were no longer going to struggle in silence.

[thebreakfastgenie]

The bass player was his buddy that he brought along so he doesn't count, it's really just the other two guys. They didn't like him at first and then tensions developed with Little John Dizek who to be fair was a frontman getting edged out by a keyboard player but the keyboard player was just a better musician and singer so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The fact that the rest of the guys in The Hassles besides Jon Small didn't really like Billy Joel is so funny.

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 21: A Crowbar Called Love

GIF Credit: @carmen-berzattos

Bearblr Promptober Day 21: Drunk Confession

Summary: Carmy's girlfriend (who he calls Darling) drunkenly confesses something that sends him into a tizzy; that she wants to have his kids.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of trauma, self-doubt, evolving Dad!Carmy, maybe the start of a breeding kink(?), fem reader/generic lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns. (822 words)

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list. Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

Also, if random letters or words are black/white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

21 Oct 2024

She said she wants to have my babies, and I honestly don't know what in the fuck to do with myself.

How did I get here?

What the fuck did I do to earn that?

What?

How?

I'm a fucking disaster, why the fuck would anyone think I'd make a not-shitty dad?

And she said it in front of Richie and Nat. That asshole is never gonna let me hear the end of it. This is what I get for taking my eyes off the cider for five minutes. Richie probably didn’t even fucking measure before spiking it.

Fuck. My. Life.

I have no business having kids, I'm just gonna end up like ma! No! No! Abso-fucking-lutely not!

Okay, yes, they'd be cute, but this is a terrible idea!

I can’t stop fucking thinking about this. The adoration in her eyes, the way she whispered it into my mouth, the way she pulled my hair and repeated it—whined it—until my brain checked into reality in a confused state. Carmen, I wanna start a family with you. I love you so much. I want babies. Carmy… Carmy, please? Please, can we talk about kids?

It’s the next morning, and I woke up an hour before my alarm, invaded, besieged, strangled by thoughts of cradling her belly, of feeling little kicks against my palm through her soft, supple skin. The thought of baby shoes while I stared at my own, hand trembling as I dragged it through my hair and tried to recompress so I could make it through a workday. What was more was that I couldn’t stop fucking thinking about how wonderful of a mother she’d make. She’d be sweet, kind, understanding, protective, a great advocate, teacher, counselor. I thought of being home with a kid in my arms. Nat’s daughter is so precious, so innocent, so pure. I could have one. A few. And I could do better than ma or dad did.

I wanted to do better than ma and dad did.

I wandered back into the bedroom, leaned against the doorframe and just watched Darling snuggled up in bed, her face buried in my t-shirt, a cute little croissant under the covers. There existed in my mind, sometime before then—couldn’t figure out exactly when it changed—this looming understanding of this arrangement being temporary. This relationship was a ticking clock, a sword dangling over my head by a horsehair, and in all likelihood, I was going to fuck up, and she was going to leave. It seemed like an inevitability. But permanence, comfort, routine, it crept up on me. Could I imagine an existence without Darling? Did a future without her even exist? Did I allow myself to love her so completely, so deeply, that my forever was staked in the ground with her?

Two kids. And a dog. Our own house. It’d be nice if one of them liked cooking, but I wasn’t going to be upset if they wanted to try something else. I’d support them trying new things. I’d reduce my hours at The Bear, too, so I could be around to hug them and read them bedtime stories. My vision abruptly blurred. Droplet of warmth fell from my eyelashes and drew a streak down my face.

Of course, I was fucking crying again.

Ever love someone so much that it hurt? That the love embedded itself so deep into you that it burrowed roots in the same places that all your fucking trauma lived? That it crumbled and frayed the armor of bitterness, apathy, hatred, and anger you’d been using to hold yourself together against the assault of being alive and being so many things the world didn’t like—short, sensitive, warm, caring, quiet, shy? For your curly hair, for your features, for your weird fucking quirks and habits? The world stabbed you in the fucking kidneys for daring to exist, and you walled off yourself behind protective mechanisms to stop the knives going any deeper than they already had, from piercing the softest parts of you; and out of nowhere, this little thing called love shows up as a crowbar and jams under that armor with no ceremony and certainly no warning. It fucking hurts at first. It hurts like you can’t fucking believe or imagine, and it scares the shit out of you because if that armor comes off, you feel like you’ll die, but eventually? Eventually, the armor starts crumbling away, and you feel the saccharine mercy of love in all the places that the armor hurt. Yeah, you thought your trauma was the thing that inflicted agony all these years? Your fucking armor wore chasms in you all the same.

This wasn’t a contest, baby girl, but you win. I surrender. I love you. I love you so much that it hurts, and I can’t get enough of it. So, yeah. Yeah, we can talk about kids.

[thefanficmonster]

Reader being jealous of Carmen and Sydney

Oooh I love that idea, dear! Hope you enjoy 💕

Pairing: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Smoking, Swearing, Minor SPOILERS for The Bear (S2)

Genre: Fluff, Humor, Romance

The regular hustle and bustle of people making their way home from work has taken over Chicago now that the clock has passed 3 PM. Although sounds of chaos have been rattling the establishment since the hollow ungodly hours of the morning. Shouting bouncing off the walls, shit breaking, Fak and Richie being Fak and Richie. And all you've been trying to do is difuse the situation.

Sugar needs a break, as she very clearly told you with a single glance from across the room. You gave her a nod and let her close herself off in her office to take a breather while you took over keeping the circus in a somewhat straight line.

Currently, you're on your hands and knees, scraping all the debris and dirt that's gotten on the new tiles while the rest of the repairs were still taking place. You warned Carmy the tiles would look far from new if they were the first thing he chose to replace but he still stubbornly put his foot down on the matter. And now he realizes he shot himself in that same foot, giving you an apologetic look from where he's standing.

"Quit staring, Berzatto. Do your job." You scoff, continuing your task with a newfound aggression that threatens to take out the whole tile not just the stain.

You've been blowing him off and avoiding him all day - quite the abnormality since arguing with him is to you what a cup of coffee is to other people. A day for you ain't right unless it starts with a disagreement with him. To be fair, it still is a fight, just a silent one. It all but guarantees you a win when he can't even defend himself, oblivious to how he could've pissed you off in the first place.

"Why are you being mean?" It irritates you, that tone of amusement to his voice. He's entertained, he's fucking enjoying himself.

"I'm always mean." You reply without even sparing him a glance. Your point is accentuated when you hit Richie's knee with your free hand just as he starts getting rowdy with Fak. He yelps, scowling down at you before lifting his arms up in surrender. "See?"

Looking up, you see Carmy is no longer in his previous spot. Instead, he's knelt down a couple feet away from you, a scraping tool of his own in hand. "Oh I see just fine, Chef."

Your skin flushes with heat as you try to curb your annoyance - how is the fucker winning an argument he doesn't even know he's entered. "Not well enough as it would seem." You tap the stain he'd scraped at once or twice before moving on to the next, "This doesn't look clean to me, Chef." The amount of bitterness and sass compacted into that single word is almost palpable in the air between you two.

"Alright, that's it." He says, exasperated, dropping the tool and getting to his feet. He dusts his knees before offering you a hand, "Cigarette, now."

You don't budge, still at the stain you've been struggling with for the past five minutes, "I'm busy. Ask Syd."

At that, Carmen has the audacity to straight up laugh. That's' what pushes you to reach your boiling point. You look up to tell him the fuck off just to have the tool swiftly stolen from your grasp, "Hey!"

"Cigarette, Chef. Now." His eyebrows are raised, giving you an earnest look that is meant to pull at the strings of your apperhension. He's not dumb, he can see you're particularly ticked off today. He can also take an accurate guess as to why. But he sure as hell isn't about to have that talk in front of Dumb and Dumber. Not that they'd pay you two much mind considering they've entered another screaming match but still - they have a tendency of paying attention when one would least want them to.

You feel like a child being scolded for throwing a tantrum. The only reason you oblige and stand up is to preserve your own pride. You make a point of not taking the offered hand, getting to your feet yourself and dusting off the pants of your overalls that have now been decorated with a lot of dust.

Contant is still established when Carmy grabs your hand, leading you to the back door and out in the alleyway. To be frank, here, it's not like you tried to wiggle free from his grasp but that's semantics at this point.

He plucks a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, taking two out. He traps one between his lips before extending the other to you.

You're not a regular smoker but you also don't turn it down when you're offered one. Especially not when you're stressed. With that taken into consideration, despite Carmen being the root of your stress at the moment, you still accept the offer and reach up for the cigarette.

Much to your annoyance, however, he snatches it away before you can take it.

Your hand balls up in a fist as you glare daggers and any other sharp objects at his smug expression. With a shake of his head and a fucking chuckle he offers it again, hoping you got the memo this time around.

The only reason you cave is just so you can put an end to this back-and-forth. So, despite your better judgement you bite the bullet and lean in, taking the cigarette between your lips.

It brings a smile to his face that you happily smack off had you not been at work at the moment. Instead, you focus your gaze on the flame he flicks on and inches closer to the cherry of your cigarette.

You take a long drag, inhaling the smoke with relief. It doesn't last long though since Carmen just has to open his mouth again.

"I'll ask you again - why are you being mean?" He lets out a cloud of smoke in the air, once more exhibiting exasperation you believe he has no right to feel.

Your jaw is set and so are your narrowed eyes as you follow suit - releasing the nicotine from your lungs, "And I'll tell you again - I'm always mean. I'll do you one better - why are you wasting time? We've got a lot of shit to do and we gotta do it in a very short fucking time and you're here taking smoke breaks! Sugar is losing her mind, Fak and Richie are gonna kill each other, Cicero is breathing down our necks, Syd is counting on you..."

"And you're not?" He cuts you off, the smugness now long gone from his features.

One hand rests on your hip while the other brings the cigarette back to your lips, "That doesn't matter."

You're almost satisfied to see the irritation you've been feeling all day now take hold of him, "Like hell it fucking doesn't."

Rolling your eyes, you flick your wrist to check your watch, "You should get going. Don't you have a menu consultation with Syd?" You mumble around the tobacco stick in your mouth, avoiding his gaze entirely now that you've lost all sense of subtlety to your anger.

If he were to ask you point blank if you are jealous of his close partnership with Syd, you'd laugh. And it is indeed laughable when you factor in the knoledge of how disinterested she is in terms of Carmy outside of a work setting. But still there's that nagging little piece of shit voice in your head...

Before you know it, Carmy has discarded his cigarette and has closed the space between the two of you. One set of fingers tilt up your chin while the other plucks the cigarette from your mouth. You're given no time to argue before his lips crash into yours.

You kiss him back instinctively, your brain momentarily short-circuting and conveniently wiping all the anger from your system. It returns only briefly when Carmy pulls awat from you. "It can wait."

You reestablish your sass a second later, grounding yourself into the annoyed act once more, "Nope, none of that." You shake your head, taking a step back, "I can handle you being corny but not inefficient and irresponsible." You steal back your cigarette before waving him off, "Go on, shoo."

His bright blue eyes twinkle with amusement, crinkles appearing at their corners as his face is lit up by a smile, "Alright, alright." He mutters in defeat. Still, he manages to sneak a kiss at the corner of your lips before reentering the restaurant-to-be. He stops in the dorrway, turning around to face you, "We're doing a movie night tonight. For real, this time."

A small chuckle escapes you as you attempt to feign nonchalance with a shrug, "You said the same fucking thing last time."

He points a finger at you, giving you his word, in a way, "You'll see." With that, he disappears inside, leaving you to finish your cigarette alone and with the dorkiest smile adorning your face.

It turns into a full blown laugh at the thought of how offended Syd would be if she knew of that little spark of jealousy within you. Truthfully, you owe her an apology.

[juuuulez]

🎧 | are we still friends?, michael berzatto.

don’t get green skin (green skin), keep contact (keep contact) / don’t say, "goodbye, smell you later" (bye, later) / nah, i can't / i don't want to end this season on a bad episode.

writing this was really fucking brutal for me. i’ll do something nice and sweet another time because this was rooouuughh.

Established Mikey/You, platonic Richie/You, generally just sad stuff.

request a playlist roulette here!

Being with Mikey was warm. That’s the only way you could describe it. Warm in the way he’d look at you, the way he smiled, laughed. His tendency to touch everyone. Kisses on cheeks and hugs from the side. You wanted that in your life, you welcomed it, warmth and love.

But now it’s cold and the cold is biting. It’s harsh and relentless, seeping through layers of black silk, penetrating the nice coat you bought for this occasion. The cigarette between your lips flares with each inhale, a reddened spark you cup your hands over, in futile hopes that it’ll give off heat. It doesn’t.

“Nice shoes.” You remark the second they’re in your vision, black and shiny. It’s not like you look up, either, staring down at the pavement and Richie’s pointed dress shoes. But you know it’s him: you can smell his cologne mixing with the smoke in the air, creating a scent that’s harsh and bitter but seemingly appropriate.

“Thanks,” He mutters, following your gaze. “Tiff bought ‘em.”

You want to make fun of him. Make some stupid remark, berate him for folding so easily, for doing what she says with no complaint. It’s what you would’ve done, what Mikey would’ve done: Lettin’ her make you pretty, huh? What— you gonna be wearing lipstick next? It’s so close yet so far, you can basically hear it, and you’re sure Richie can hear it too.

“She around here?” You end up asking instead.

And Richie shakes his head, already lighting up a cigarette. “Had to go relieve Eva’s babysitter. Some fuckin’ thirteen year-old from our street.”

“Yeah, well, one day she’s gonna be that thirteen year-old.”

The silence settles between you again, thick but not suffocating. Just there. You’re fine to leave it that way, you’ve been standing here regardless, leaning against a brick wall in the parking lot across from the funeral home. Five cigarette butts have fallen to your feet, and you intend on adding to the pile.

“Heading home after this?” Richie asks.

You don’t look up because you don’t want to see the look on his face. Worry. You hate worry, because you lived in worry. A perpetual fear, an anxiety settled deep in your gut, making your skin tingle and itch. But Mikey never seemed to mind; he taught you not to worry, to laugh more, to care less.

Look where that got you.

“Dunno,” You shrug, dropping the cigarette butt to the floor. It sizzles on some residual snow, which you squish down under your nice heels. “Was gonna try and back out of the lease.”

“Thought you loved that place?” Richie is quick to counter, “Y’know, green tiles and whatnot.”

It was a little apartment, one you’d found after hours of hunting. The green backsplash in the bathroom had caught your attention, and you’d spent days chatting anyone’s ear off about how you’d style it.

But now you shrug it off, appearing indifferent. “It’s not that big a deal.”

It’d been five weeks. Five weeks of domestic bliss, or, your equivalent to that. Of finding little trinkets and unique homewares to furnish the new place. Of getting excited after work, because you get to come home to your boyfriend, instead of an empty bed.

Boxes were still shoved into most corners of the place, not yet unpacked. For a moment you wondered if that was the intention. That, in not unpacking, Mikey was saving you the grief of eventually removing his presence from your place. He was making it easier, cutting out the middleman.

“Maybe Chicago isn’t for me.”

The words slip from your mouth before you can stop them, and you’ve finally looked up, meeting Richie’s gaze. It’s odd because he’s looking at you, and not at the same thing, like his mind is elsewhere. You get it. Your mind is also elsewhere.

“Fuckin’ stupid,” He mutters, shaking his head. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

So you shrug, another cigarette pinched between your teeth. You don’t remember lighting it. This weird haze has you on autopilot, you’ve been in it all morning. Maybe all week.

“I dunno. Might be good to get away for a bit.” You try to justify.

“Nah, fuck that. You’re not goin’ all alien on us,” Richie continues to contest. “There are people here for you. Y’know.. Tina ‘n all the cooks, and fuckin’.. fucking Fak, and Nat.”

“Natalie said—“

“I know what she fuckin’ said, it’s bullshit.”

Richie flicks out his cigarette, letting it drop into your little pile. His jacket is ironed and those shiny shoes are covered in snow, and for the first time in ages, he looks nice. You notice it. You notice the effort he’s put in, despite everything, and you know he feels the way you do.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” He begins. “You’re gonna come to The Beef once a week. Eat a sandwich, talk to us, ‘n shit. And you’re gonna come to family, too. Always.”

There’s a grimace on your face at the idea. Stepping foot in the restaurant seems like a colossal task, let alone attending family. Because that’s the thing, you weren’t family, not anymore. You’d hoped that one day you would be, for certain, a Berzatto. And now that wouldn’t happen.

“I’ll try.” You end up saying, even if dread builds in your stomach. It’s the most you can do.

Richie seems to understand, letting the silence linger for another moment. “C’mon,” He sighs. “We’re getting a drink. I’m gonna pull one smile outta you tonight.”

The notion of smiling, today, seems foreign. Yet you obey regardless, following along as Richie’s hand finds your back, and he swipes the cigarette from your mouth to throw into the snow.

It ends up being a good night. As good as it can be, at least. Each memory shared, each story told is laced with an underlying bitterness, something that settles on your tongue and behind your eyes. It’s thick and equally cold as the air; prickling like goosebumps. Richie feels it too. Everyone does, but you convince yourself that it’s not forever, that it’ll go away and the warmth will return.

[freak-accident419]

You Were Everything

Derek Danforth x AFAB!GN!Reader

Summary: It’s been a few years since the divorce. When you accidentally got pregnant by Derek, he left immediately out of fear, leaving you pregnant all alone. Compromises and communication had become established and all he could do now was call your daughter. But one day, just like some others, he asks to see her in person again.

Word Count: 2.3k

Content: angst, mentions of accidental pregnancy, reader is divorced from Derek, ‘P/n’ = parent name (what your child would call you, whether it be mommy/daddy/etc)

(A/n: I’ve gotta stop being inspired by Richie Jerimovich… reader is afab yet implied/intended to be genderqueer—either nonbinary, genderfluid, transman, transmasc, etc. but it can also apply to cis fem readers. Anyone with a uterus. I know this arrangement isn’t accurate—the custody thing—but it makes things more dramatic, you know?)

-

“Y/n, please.” You heard your ex-husband plead over the phone.

“Derek, we’ve already talked about this countless times. I’m not going to change my mind,” you sigh wearily.

Things with Derek were… complicated, to say the very least. You had once been married to him a few years ago, and everything was going so well. That is, until he got you pregnant.

It was a complete accident. You two always thought you were being safe. You both never planned on pregnancy, let alone even talked about the possibility of having a child. And with your conditions, you weren’t even sure you would be willing to raise it, to carry it all those nine months. But you went through with it anyway.

When Derek found out, he was utterly terrified. He never thought of himself being a father, he never thought he’d ever be the father of your kid, and he especially never thought you would even have a kid of your own. And so, out of sole fear and impulse, he just left one night. Gave you space, you supposed. But things ultimately just ended up in a bitter divorce. Derek was barely there for you.

Which was why you were so insistent on not letting him see your daughter. Jessica or Jess, she was named after Derek’s mother. She was four-years-old now, only communicating with her father on the phone, consoled by the lie you told her that he lived across the globe. During your pregnancy, he still paid for the medical bills, child support, formula, et cetera, yet he was separated from you. Therefore, you simply denied him visitation for your daughter, court-ordered, because you believed he didn’t deserve to see her. He left you alone for all those months, knowing how drastic of a concept pregnancy was to you. You never planned to let him see her.

“Y/n, please. Just for a day. Or even—even just an hour! Let me see my little girl. Please,” he begged with hopeless desperation. It was insulting to you, the fact that he finally wanted to be part of you and your daughter’s life.

“I’m not changing my mind,” you assert forcefully. “You left us. You left her and you left me.” You two always had this same conversation with the same statements and reasons. He had always brought up the possibility of seeing his daughter. This same conversation happened nearly almost every month.

“C’mon. She—she deserves to have a dad present in her life. I can’t just—just call her up all the time while she just believes I’m across the sea and unable to see her!” He urged imperatively to his ex-spouse.

“You’re right. She does deserve to have a dad. A present dad, a good dad,” you utter pressingly. “But that’s just not you.”

Derek pinched his nose bridge in frustration and sighed. He felt terrible. He felt so regretful and so horrible and undeserving of seeing his daughter in person. But he was also selfish—he needed to see her. Derek believed that he learned from his mistakes. Ultimately, he didn’t want to be a father in the beginning because he knew he was unfit. That is, until recently, when he shut down UDG and Nine Star.

“I know I messed up. I know—I know things ended horribly and—and you will never forgive me, but… but I just wanna see Jessica. Not even for an hour? Even five minutes? Five minutes, Y/n, come on, five minutes. Let me have this,” he implored. A part of you felt bad. After all, deep down you still loved him. But you kept remembering every grueling and difficult second while you were pregnant and alone.

“Derek, we’ve already had this conversation. You can continue to call her just like it has been for the past four years. But that’s it. You—” you paused in your tracks as you looked at the kitchen table, the plastic cup of milk tipped over, the drink spreading across the surface. You rushed to get napkins and you soothe your daughter. “Hey, sweetheart. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s just spilt milk. Easy to clean. You’re okay.” You wiped the milk with the napkins after setting the cup back up. She was a sensitive child, so she was definitely upset about the spilled drink, yet you were able to distract her from the accident. “There. See? All clean. Did you eat your vegetables? Oh my, you did! All of them? Good girl!”

Your sweet, higher pitched voice transmitted to the other side of the phone, Derek hearing you speak to your daughter. His heart nearly stopped as he began to hear the muffled babbles of the toddler in the background of the call. His voice softened immediately, and he couldn’t think about anything but the presence of his daughter.

“She… She’s been eating her vegetables?” He asks softly in awe.

You bring the phone back to your ear. “Yeah,” you answer simply, looking down at her as she continued to eat her lunch.

Derek felt a rush of pride. Even though it was something as small as finishing vegetables, he was extremely proud of her. He always was.

“Is she—is she there?” He inquired breathlessly.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply.

“Can I talk to her?”

“Derek—”

“Please.”

You sigh, pausing. You only let him speak to her for a certain amount of hours and at a specific time of the day, but… you figured there was no harm in letting him speak to her right now. “Fine,” you yield.

After handing the phone to your daughter and telling her who it was, you caught the sudden change of her expression—she nearly beamed.

“Hi, daddy!”

Derek felt his heart explode and his whole world practically stopped at the moment he heard his child’s voice again. Sure, he gets to call her every day, but he could never get used to it, to the feeling, to her voice. The way she called him her father with enthusiasm and exhilaration, as if he was worth all the excitement. Then his lips curled into a soft smile once he fully processed the moment. “Hey… hey, baby, how are you?”

“I’m good!” She chirped sweetly. “Guess what?”

“What is it, sweetheart?” He replies excitedly.

“I can do a cartwheel now!” She exclaimed.

“Oh really?” He chuckles softly.

“Yeah! My friend Emmy, who-who’s in gymnastics, she showed me how!” Derek smiles as he continued to hear the purity and cheerfulness of his own daughter’s voice. His heart melted every time he heard her, every mispronunciation, every babble.

“That’s amazing, honey!” He praised with admiration.

Her happiness was overwhelming. While he was proud of her—and he was—he couldn’t help but feel miserable. He couldn’t be there to see it. To see his daughter, unlike other kids, finish all her vegetables without any problems. To see her do a cartwheel for the very first time.

“I wish you could see it, daddy! It’s so cool!”

“I bet it is, Jess,” he replies joyfully, ensuring that there were no hints of anguish in his tone. “I wish I could see it too.”

It hurt him a lot, if he had to be honest—not being able to see his daughter and her achievements and growth in person. It was slowly, deliberately killing him.

“And-and yesterday, p/n’s friend Josh took us to the aquarium!” she giggled.

Oh, right. Your new boyfriend. Josh.

Josh, the one who always took you out to dinner whenever he could. The one who treated your daughter with ice cream regularly.

Josh, the one with a clean background and normal, humble life.

Josh, the one who Jess mentioned on several occasions, especially whenever she brought up your happiness.

Derek felt his mouth become dry, obligated to lick his lips. He gulped, attempting to disregard the whole painful ‘Josh’ thing with a relevant question. “Yeah? What kinds of animals did you see there?” He asked curiously.

“There were a lot of fishes, and penguins, and seahorses, and turtles, and octopuses! But my favorite were the seals,” she babbles gleefully, completely ignorant of the entire situation.

“That sounds so fun, baby,” he replied with a wide smile. “Why are seals your favorite?”

“I don’t know. They’re just really cute,” she shrugs with an innocent giggle. “P/n said that they remind them of you, though.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your p/n said that?”

“Mhm!”

“Me? Seals?”

“Yeah. They said it was because you had big puppy eyes,” she giggles.

Derek laughs. It felt nice to hear that you still spoke of him to your daughter, let alone fondly. And it was also very typical of you to say; hearing that was inexplicably nostalgic. It warmed his heart. “Can’t argue with that.”

A pondering thought lingered in his mind as he thought about you, and he felt it eating at him.

“Hey, baby, can I ask you something?” He implores gently.

“Okay!” she replies simply.

“Is… Is your P/n happy?” Derek felt nervous as he asked this question.

“Yeah!” she babbles cheerfully. “They’re always happy!”

There was a wave of a warm, bittersweet feeling in his chest as he smiled softly to himself. But also relief. He still cared about you, so, so much. Derek regrets leaving you that day. He wants to come back for Jess, of course. But he also wants to come back to you.

Derek opened his mouth to speak, until suddenly—

“Oh. P/n wants to be back on the phone.”

Derek’s smile falters immediately. He knew you never really approved of any interaction between him and your daughter, so he assumed you wanted to cut the call short. But in the end, nothing would be enough for him. Not a five minute or five hour call. He would sacrifice anything to see her. But he knew that as long as you never forgive him, it’ll never happen. “O-okay, baby. I love you, okay? Give—give the phone back to your p/n, please.”

“Okay! I love you! Bye daddy!”

He sighs as he heard the phone being passed to you, taking a deep breath as he prepared to speak to you once again. It was kind of draining, mostly because he was intimidated by you. Speaking to you was just a reminder of his failure, of how he failed you.

“Hey,” you sigh.

“Hey…”

There was a slight pause until Derek spoke up.

“So… seals remind you of me, huh?”

You groan playfully and place a hand on your forehead. “She told you that?”

“Mhm. I mean—personally, I don’t get why you’ve always talked out my eyes being ‘big and brown,’ like every time, you always said that same thing—”

“Because they are,” you chuckle under your breath. Little did he know, and little did Jess know, that she had his eyes. You had mixed feelings about Derek indefinitely, especially because of the past. But there was something so invigorating about talking about your daughter with him. “Did she tell you about the cartwheel?”

“Yeah,” he replies with a grin on his face. Knowing him for a long time, you could imagine how his face looked just by the sound of his voice. “I’m so proud of her.”

“You know, um… she’s very invested in math right now,” you bring up.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, there was this, uh, cartoon… on the TV showing simple math problems and uh… she just sorta fell in love with it. She wanted me to teach her more,” you reiterate. “Derek, she’s four.”

Derek listened in awe, becoming more and more amazed by his daughter.

“Really? She wanted to learn math?”

“Yeah,” you were practically beaming. “She is so smart, Derek,” you affirm, “Our—our daughter, she is so smart.”

”Y-yeah. She—she really is,” he replied briefly with mere astonishment.

That was the first time that you referred to your daughter as his. ‘Our,’ echoed in his mind. ‘Our daughter.’ He wasn’t sure that you even caught that, that it was intentional, because you said it so naturally and quick, but… he couldn’t help but feel good about himself—about everything—after that.

There was a short pause before you cleared your throat. “Hey, um… I thought about it a lot and, uh… I have this business thing across the country… and, um… I was planning on having my mom watch her or a sitter, but, uh…”

You pause, afraid to even make the proposal.

“I wanted you to watch her. On that weekend. You can, uh… finally meet her, spend time with her, and…”

Derek was in complete shock. His eyes were wide, he felt his entire body freeze, it was like he couldn’t move.

“When is this?” He uttered quietly in disbelief.

“In two weeks,” you answer, “Are you up for it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Of course, I…” Derek was incredibly astonished. Was this even real? You were finally going to let him see his daughter? “Of course. I’ll—I’ll be there.” He was so prepared to cancel every single plan on that weekend, clearing up his schedule just for Jess.

“Y/n, thank you. Thank you so much, I…” He was still in utter shock. It was unexpected after all, just a few minutes ago you had denied him again. But while your daughter was calling him, you got an email from your work, reminding you about the business trip. You weren’t entirely sure why you changed your mind like this. You just hoped that you wouldn’t regret it.

“Just… please don’t mess it up,” you sigh exasperatedly.

“I—I won’t,” he says confidently. Derek felt his hands shake ever so slightly, eyes watering from the realization he had—he was going to see his kid. For the first time, he was going to see his child.

“Okay.”

Derek felt emotional. He was actually going to see his kid. He was actually going to watch her cartwheel, he was actually going to hold her. He could take her out for ice cream like… how Josh had.

Derek gulped as he pondered.

“Y/n?” He mumbles silently.

You hum in response.

“I, uh… How are—How are you doing?”

“I’m doing alright, Derek,” you reply briefly.

You said his name softly this time, however—not harshly like before. It tugged on his weak heartstrings as if they were useless, frayed string.

And then there was an awful, deafening pause.

“I, uh… I still really love you, Y/n.”

You felt your heart sink before it shattered completely. Your vision began to become blurry with your now glassy eyes. It hurt. This all hurt.

Derek wouldn’t know much this affected you, however. He could only hear your voice or your silence. He’d never know how awful you felt just from hearing that, like how awful he felt from blurting it out. He believed you completely moved on from him. But he adored you, to say the very least, hopelessly. It was simply a cry for a second chance.

There was a terrible, piercing silence. Were you still there, behind the phone?

“Y/n…?”

You were speechless for too long as his words lingered horribly in your mind.

Then finally…

“I know,” he heard you reply softly, under your trembled breath.

“I—I still care about you,” you add. Wrong. You still love him too. But he would never know that. He would be foolish to assume without hearing the three words leave your own lips. And you couldn’t. You couldn’t tell him that you still loved him, because he would just hold on and hope longer. So instead, you express your gratitude for him. “Um… Thank you for… for all the good times… for being in my life…

You were a wonderful experience.”