#drew this after the first kitchen scene

[theartofnieriel]

Basically every kitchen scene.

-

reblog, don’t repost. thank you

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: ermm angst. and another ending that will make u guys mad at me IM SORRY

prev next

authors note: SRY idk how to write dramatic scenes like that ☹️ im gonna be better prepared for the next part so u guys can communicate PROPERLY w drew n not in some STUPID restaurant. anyway if u wanna be part of the tag list, let me know in replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

your fingers trace the outline of freckles on his arm as he talks about a memory from your past. the soft murmur of his voice blends with the steady rhythm of the waves outside, each sound wrapping around you like a lullaby. there’s no clear distinction between his words, just a gentle hum of familiarity and warmth, like he’s telling you something only the two of you could ever understand.

you can feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the slight shiver that follows each brush as if he’s waiting for you to react, to smile at whatever joke he’s just made.

and you do. you always do.

it feels easy, like breathing, like everything else fades away in this moment.

you’re both lying there, tangled up in each other, the world outside irrelevant. his voice is like the background music of a song you never want to end, and the smile in his tone is contagious, making your heart flutter in a way that feels like home.

and in this space, you’re in love. you’re safe. there’s no distance, no secrets, no hurt—just you and him, where time doesn’t seem to exist. it feels perfect, endless, like nothing could ever come between you.

his hand finds yours, and you smile—because here, in this place, nothing else matters but the two of you.

but that’s not your life.

the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers feels too real, too perfect—yet there’s a gnawing sensation in your chest, a quiet voice whispering that this can’t be right. you pause, staring into his eyes as they flicker with life, his laughter still echoing in your ears. and then, just like that, it hits you.

“this isn’t real . . .” you murmur, the words slipping from your lips like a confession, soft and sad.

the moment shatters, and you wake up with a start, eyes blinking into the early morning light. for a second, your heart races, still tethered to that dream. but as you take in the quiet room around you, reality sinks in like a heavy weight.

drew lies next to you, sound asleep. his breathing is slow, peaceful, completely unaware of the storm brewing in your chest. his face looks calm, almost serene, and for a moment, you can’t tear your eyes away. you wish things could be this easy—simple, like they were in the dream.

if only he knew what you know.

after making that sundae with leila last night—past midnight, no less—you thought you’d be able to shake off everything that happened, but it just made you feel worse. the messages you saw on drew’s phone replayed in your mind, over and over, refusing to let you find any peace.

now it’s morning, and as you drag yourself out of bed, you already feel exhausted. your eyes are gritty, head foggy, and the sun through the windows of the house feel too bright, too warm—too much. you rub your eyes as you shuffle down the stairs, hearing the chatter of everyone gathered in the kitchen for breakfast.

everyone’s already there, looking refreshed. gia’s laughter rings out from the kitchen, and you catch leila’s voice, animated as always, chatting with theo. they’re all gathered around the kitchen island, passing plates of food around—scrambled eggs, toast, fruit. the smell of coffee hits you, and you could almost cry from how much you need it.

leila notices you first. “good morning, sleepyhead!” she greets with a wide grin. “we were wondering when you were gonna wake up. there’s plenty of food left—grab something!”

you give a tired half-smile, barely lifting your head as you mumble, “morning.” your voice sounds flat, even to yourself, and you trudge over to the counter, grabbing a cup of coffee first before anything else.

theo leans back in his chair, eyeing you. “late night?”

you nod, stifling a yawn as you pour your coffee. “something like that.”

leila doesn’t miss a beat, already steering the conversation to her plans. “so, now that we’re all here, i’ve got some exciting news,” she says, “theo booked us a reservation at this amazing restaurant in town tonight, the pearl. we’re talking grand—so dress up nice!” she claps her hands together, clearly excited about the idea.

the group is enthusiastic—gia’s already asking what she should wear, and roman’s grumbling about having to dress up, which earns him a jab from libby. you sip your coffee, trying to focus, but everything feels like it’s happening at a distance.

“y/n you okay with that? dinner?” leila asks, pulling you into the conversation.

you glance up at her, blinking through the haze. “yeah, sure,” you reply. “sounds fun.”

she narrows her eyes at you, noticing the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. “you sure? you seem a little out of it.”

you force another smile, trying to shake off the sluggish feeling. “just tired. i’ll be fine.”

gia chimes in from her seat, giggling as she steals a slice of toast. “maybe you just need more coffee.”

you nod, lifting your mug in agreement. “definitely.”

the conversation continues without you as everyone starts talking about what they’ll wear tonight, throwing out outfit ideas and making plans for the day. drew is sitting across the table, looking as refreshed as everyone else, laughing along with them. but you can’t bring yourself to look at him for long.

he catches your eye across the table. he looks at you with a soft, questioning expression, maybe sensing something’s off. you glance away before he can say anything, focusing on your coffee again, but you curse under your breath when out of the corner of your eye you can see him get up from his seat.

he slides into the chair next to you, a casual smile on his face. “started the trip off with a pool day, and now we’re heading to the pearl for dinner,” he says, glancing at the table where leila’s organized a small checklist on her notes app. “leila’s really in planning mode.”

you manage a half-hearted nod, feeling the fatigue settle deeper into your bones.

“hey,” he continues, his tone light, “you okay? you seem a little—”

you’re already over it. before he can finish, you drop your piece of toast back onto the plate, the sound cutting through the chatter around you. without another word, you push back your chair and get up, taking your coffee with you. the others’ voices fade behind you as you walk away, the tension in your chest tightening.

drew looks after you, brow furrowed, and glances at leila, who’s the only other person who even notices your behavior. confusion lines his features as he points to you while looking at her, like asking if she has any idea what’s up with you.

leila shakes her head in response, but glances up at you walking up the stairs in concern. drew seems unconvinced, but he nods, turning back to the table as you disappear upstairs. and you’re grateful for the distance, even if just for a moment.

Liked by theohain, oscareyre113, and others

y/n 🐚

View all comments

user1 divaa

user2 I MET U THE OTHER DAY YOU WERE SO NICE!!! 😭😭

↳ user3 YOU ARE SO LUCKY

user4 mother

gia.carinteri ure so cute

↳ y/n love u

leilajharmon angel baby

user5 Are you and Drew still together?

user6 y/n annual post i’m so grateful to be this early

user7 I miss Tempest :(

↳ user8 me too

user9 Why don’t you ever post Drew?

as you step into the pearl, the warm glow of the lights and the soft murmur of waves greet you. leila and theo lead the way, their laughter weaving through the air as they navigate the restaurant. you grip drew’s hand reluctantly as you follow the group.

the server guides you to a table outside, and your breath catches at the sight: the seaside view stretches out before you, waves crashing gently against the rocks. a delicate black metal arch hangs above the table, draped with twinkling lights that flicker like stars. a large, lush plant sways in the cool evening breeze, and you’re in awe.

you take your seat at the outer corner of the table, next to drew. the space feels too open, and you can feel his gaze on you as you fidget with your napkin, trying to ignore the way your stomach knots.

as the conversations flow around you, he leans in, propping his elbow on the table to speak to you privately. “what’s going on with you?” he asks, “and you can’t use the tired excuse anymore. you’ve had loads of coffee this morning.”

you glance at him, caught off guard by the directness of his question. but take a breath, searching for the right words. all you can manage is a small shrug. “i’m fine. seriously. don’t worry about it.”

you wish you could sound more convincing as the server approaches, placing a beautifully plated dish in front of you. relief washes over you; at least you can focus on the food for now.

theo suddenly clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “i just want to say how grateful i am that everyone is here to celebrate with us before i marry this beautiful woman,” he gestures to leila, who frowns as she presses a kiss to his cheek. as the table raises their glasses, you join in but feel somewhat disconnected, and shut out the rest of theo’s short speech until you’re able to eat.

as everyone digs in, gia reaches across the table, poking at her food. “y/n, do you want this?” she holds up a piece of grilled zucchini.

drew interjects before you can respond. “y/n doesn’t like zucchini,” he says casually as he cuts into his food, and you look at him with furrowed brows.

“oh, right.” gia laughs, realization hitting her. “i always mix you two up.” she turns to libby, who’s already reaching her plate across the table.

gia’s cheeks grow red as she giggles, and you continue to watch drew. your eyes meet briefly, but there’s an unspoken barrier between you, so you quickly look away, picking at your food instead.

eventually he even seems lost in thought, his gaze fixed on gia’s plate as he dazes out. roman, sitting across from you, catches on. he leans forward slightly, studying the table as if trying to read the tension, but you notice his motor.

“what are you doing?” you mouth to him.

roman raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. he glances at gia, then back at the rest of you, sensing the unspoken words hanging in the air. he knows something is up between you and drew but decides to keep quiet, because if no one else is saying anything about it, why should he?

and you understand exactly that. you roll your eyes before returning to your food.

“i could die for this garlic bread,” leila groans as she breaks a piece off and eats it. just from hearing it, theo reaches over to take a piece.

you hum as you reach your hand over, and drew grabs a piece for you when he realizes what you want. just as you sit back against your seat, a server from a nearby table accidentally brushes against you as they rushed by, a full glass of red wine slipping from their hand.

time seemed to slow as the glass tumbled, spilling its contents directly onto your lap. your mouth is gaped open and your eyes clamp shut as some of the wine bounces off and hits you directly in your face too.

the others gasp as they stare at you in horror.

“oh my g—” the server exhales, eyes wide with panic. “i am so sorry! i’m so, so sorry!”

you’re frozen for a moment, the cool liquid spreading across your dress, soaking through the fabric. you feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, and there’s a rush of embarrassment washing over you.

“perfect,” you mutter under yourself as you try to maintain your composure. “just what i needed.”

the server continues to apologize profusely, almost stumbling over their words. “i’ll get you some napkins! please, let me help!”

“it’s fine,” you tell him, forcing a smile despite the discomfort. “just . . . give me a moment.”

as you stand up, the chair scrapes loudly against the ground, and you can feel the wine seeping down your torso. you quickly glance at drew, who looks alarmed, his fork mid-air.

“y/n,” gia calls to you, but you’re already moving toward the doors, desperate to find a restroom.

“just let her go,” roman says quietly, sensing the tension still simmering beneath the surface. gia is worried as she watches you disappear inside the building.

drew rises from his seat and tosses his napkin onto his seat, pulling his sleeves up before hurrying into the restaurant to find you. meanwhile the server is urgently trying to clean your seat but frowns at the stained floors.

just as you reach the restroom, he catches up, breathless and urgent. you feel like groaning when you feel like you just can’t catch a break. “y/n! hey, wait,” he calls out to you, sliding past a man who tries to return to his table. “sorry.”

you halt, irritation surging. “what? what, what? what do you want?” your voice is strong and sharp, turning around to face him.

he stops in front of you and winces at the stains on your clothes, and he glances up at the doors of the restrooms when he realizes you probably should clean it off your arms and chest at least.

“i know you’re upset, but—” he begins, concern lacing his words.

“upset? you think that’s all it is?” you snap back, meeting his gaze. you actually feel insane with every word you release. “you don’t understand what this feels like.”

he looks confused, searching your eyes for clarity. “what?”

taking a deep breath to calm yourself as best as you can, you continue, “do you have any idea how humiliating it is to notice everyone stop talking and feel their eyes on you? and the moment you do get up and walk past them, all you can hear are their murmurs and whispers about how— how embarrassing this all is? it’s suffocating!”

he opens his mouth to respond, but you press on, frustration spilling out. “and it’s not even just about tonight. it’s about how it feels to find out your own fake boyfriend is keeping secrets from you and has been this whole time.”

his expression freezes, shock washing over his face. “what? keeping what from you?”

you consider your choices for a second before stepping forward to reach into his back pocket, but there he reacts—as swift as ever. like he has something to hide. and he does.

he grabs a hold of his phone before you can and when you look up at him, you can feel the guilt in his eyes. but seeing that doesn’t hurt you as much as it does when you understand how fast he is to keep his phone away from you.

you take a step back and feel yourself falter. tears well in your eyes as you watch the way he grips his phone like suddenly it matters to him. it never has before. and you know why it does now.

“so you do know what i’m talking about,” your voice is quiet, a mix of betrayal in your tone that causes drew to reach out to you to say ‘wait’.

“when in the last year did you turn into a child?” you whisper to him, a faint scoff leaving your lips as you stand before him. you’re confronting him in a hallway of a restaurant for crying out loud.

“when you make a plan with your ex-girlfriend, you make sure there isn’t somebody already waiting for you back home. you don’t get close to me while we’re here and you don’t keep it from me the whole time . . . i mean, when were you going to tell me? or tell mila?”

he shakes his head slowly, “i’m getting close with you for the others, remember? that’s our plan.”

“then you shouldn’t hold me and hug me when it’s just us, drew.”

his heart drops at the sound of his name, the familiarity twisting into something more painful in this moment. “y/n—”

“no, don’t ‘y/n’ me,” you cut him off, your voice rising. “you can’t just play both sides. if you’re going to keep secrets from me, then don’t pretend like we’re something we’re not when the rules don’t apply. it’s clearly more than just showing out in front of leila and everyone when it’s just us.”

“but it’s not like that,” he insists, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “we’re trying to make this work for everyone else!”

“for everyone else? or for yourself?” you ask him. “because i swear to you, if i had known mila existed, never in this universe would i have ever agreed to the plan. because it hurts all three of us. do you understand?”

you wait for him to say something—anything, but you’re not surprised when he just stares at you with the same look in his eyes.

it’s too much. way too much. and you still have so many things to say.

are you betrayed that your ex-boyfriend has someone new? are you even able to be mad at that?

“was it worth it?” your voice cracks as you struggle to get the words out. “i keep asking myself, was it worth it to feel so alive, even if it led to this? or would it have been easier if this just never happened at all and we just told them instead of doing all of this for fucking nothing.”

as the last words escape your lips, you push the restroom door open, leaving drew in the hallway in silence.

girl .. ill make a better confrontation in the next part or something what the fuck. im compiling a whole list of his mistakes rn so i can actually be prepared for it too LMAO

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @cl4uus @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Hello, thank you for writing the imagine, I loved it so much, I came to torment you again and ask if you could write another one? *3* Hannigram x reader, some hilarious situation where they get jealous but the reader doesn't notice lol which ends up resulting in a smut hihi

Hey again!! ❤️ not a torment at all, thanks for requesting once more!! Im soooo excited for this i havent written much jealousy for them!!!!

———

After the final guest of Hannibal’s dinner party had finally left, you felt like you could breathe once again. It had been a long night of both entertaining and running around to make sure things went smoothly.

Your heels came off first, and you groaned with relief. You had been so wrapped up with everything that you hadn’t noticed Will or Hannibal brooding for the last hour.

What caused their ill humor was a burning jealousy, but not one you had consciously caused. Instead, Dr. Chilton was to blame.

My, you two, I did not think you would show off your conquest so… brazenly. But I cannot say I blame you. That sort of beauty is best admired up close, don’t you think?

And lo and behold, they had seen him introducing himself to you later on. They couldn’t hear your conversation, but they still noticed his efforts to make you laugh. Still, they didn’t want to cause a scene.

On your end of things, Frederick had been charming but respectful, just another one of Hannibal and Will’s acquaintances that you didn’t think much of. You were unaware of just how much he liked getting a rise out of your partners, simply because it amused him.

You found them in the kitchen, Hannibal putting away wine glasses while Will leaned against the counter nursing glass of scotch. You approached him with a tired but content smile, intent on undoing his tie for him.

He observed you quietly for a moment, a muscle in his jaw still twitching with leftover tension.

“Long night, I know,” you said, misreading his expression. “My social battery’s completely drained, too.”

“Some people were enjoying themselves perhaps too much,” Hannibal said. “You stirred much interest.”

“Me?” You said, confused. “Well, I was trying to be a good hostess.”

“A very beautiful one, at that,” Will added.

You blushed a little, grinning. “I did get some compliments here and there.”

He made a hmph sound and in the next moment, he drew you in for a kiss. You chuckled softly, now understanding the possessiveness of his action.

Hannibal set down the glasses and approached as well. Without breaking the kiss with Will, you reached back for him.

But instead of letting you bring him closer, he kneeled behind you.

“What’s gotten into you!?” You gasped as Hannibal yanked down your panties, hiking up your dress.

“I have to have you,” he rasped. “I need your taste.”

He was usually the less frantic of the two, but it seemed his composure had been thrown out the window. To see him like that ignited something deep in your core.

Will grasped your chin and brought your lips back to his. You moaned into his mouth at the first swipe of Hannibal’s tongue.

Jealousy always led to their passionate reclaiming of you, and you were already aware that you had a long, long night ahead of you. Perhaps you would have to find ways to make it happen more often.

——

[mattslolita]

come thru - m. sturniolo

warnings ; fingering , oral ( female receiving ) , slight!dom!matt

"you make wanna come thru, quarter after two, just to put it down on you."

you invited your best friends over for a movie night, like you had done since you guys had been friends since you were all younger — it was a tradition amongst you all, every weekend you guys rotated between yours and the triplets house.

right now, they had just arrived at your house, and you already laid out all the movie options for them. chris immediately made a beeline for your fridge, causing you to shake your head and roll your eyes.

"chris, you realize i'd like to actually have a pepsi for myself for once, right?" you said, turning to follow the boy into the kitchen. "you always raid them all."

"yet you keep buying them for me," chris grinned, and you leaned over the counter and shook your head at him.

you were just in an over sized ransom tee that belonged to matt and some short shorts underneath — it was quite common that you wore these types of clothes around them, so it wasn't unusual. though you had to admit, wearing a borrowed shirt from matt was making you hope he would notice.

you were definitely good at hiding it, but the feelings you've had for matt were growing even more by the day — the way he'd playfully flirt with you sometimes of course was making matters worse, and you wondered if there was a chance matt might have felt the same way as you.

now with all the snacks in tow, everyone went to their designated spots in the living room — chris was in the chair closest to the tv, whilst nick took the loveseat and decided on spreading out all over it. you and matt took the sofa, and he placed his arm behind the chair.

you could feel your cheeks get warm at the action even though he was always doing stuff like this. you tried to play it off by letting a small sigh escape your lips, and bringing your sprite can up to your lips to take a sip.

matt noticed the sigh and turned to you with a raised eyebrow. "you good?" he whispered in your ear as he leaned over.

your breath hitched and you clenched your legs together, giving him a tight-lipped smile. "i'm alright."

thankfully the movie had already started, and you found yourself more interested in it. but as the movie went on, you couldn't help but subtly look over at matt from time to time — his blue eyes were focused on the movie unlike yours currently, and you swore you were about to go crazy at the way one corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk when a funny scene came on.

your eyes then roved over his tattooed arm all the way down to his ring clad hands, finding yourself wondering how good they would feel inside you.

and that's where you drew the line.

you stood up quickly, already feeling yourself become hot and bothered, causing all three of the triplets to look up at you in confusion.

"the movie's not even done yet," nick commented, and you shot him a weary smile.

"yeah i know, i'm just...not feeling too good," you lied.

"what's wrong?" matt asked with furrowed eyebrows, and you waved him off.

"oh it's nothing, i'm just kinda tired," you lied again, "i'm just gonna go up to my room and lay down for a bit."

"you want me to come up there with you?" matt asked, beginning to stand up.

"no!" you answered quickly with wide eyes, causing his eyebrows to furrow, "sorry...i'm good, though. y'all finish the movie and just clean up when you're done. you can crash here for the night if you don't feel like driving back home, matt."

chris just shrugged and stuffed his face with some chips whilst nick nodded sympathetically and blew you a friendly good night kiss — matt watched you as you walked upstairs quickly, before he turned his attention back to the movie playing.

once you got into your room, the first thing you did was close your door and let out a big sigh, then you went to dim your lights and turn on some music — the triplets already knew you went to sleep with music for the most part, but sleep wasn't exactly what you needed the music for.

you sat back on your bed as you pulled your shorts off of yourself and slowly ran a hand over your lace underwear, feeling the slight wetness. throwing your head back, you closed your eyes and thought of matt, causing a small moan to slip from your lips.

"fuck..." you sighed, picturing matt as you rubbed circles around your clit, biting your lip to suppress a moan.

you completely ditched your underwear as you continued rubbing circles around your clit, imagining matt's voice in your ear telling you how good of a girl you were being for him.

a slightly louder moan escaped your mouth but you were too caught up in the feeling to care. "fuck, matt..."

"woah."

the sound of matt's voice caused you to gasp loudly as he stood there with his jaw slightly dropped, looking at you in shock and — amusement?

your cheeks burned as you found yourself wanting to fall off the face of the earth. "um...how much of that did you witness?"

"enough, actually," matt said, a slight smirk appearing on his features as he walked into your room and closed the door behind him. "so i'm who you think about when you touch yourself, y/n?"

now your cheeks burned even more as matt watched you with an amused expression, and you found yourself unable to form words. embarrassment filled your body at what just happened. "this is so embarrassing, what the fuck."

you hung your head as you felt the bed dip in front of you — matt lifted your chin with his index finger, prompting you to look up at him. "don't be embarrassed, sweetheart. all you had to do was ask for some help."

a low gasp was about to escape your lips before matt crashed his onto yours, silencing whatever sound was to come out of your mouth next — your tongues battled for dominance but you let matt do all the exploring in your mouth.

as he continued kissing you his tattooed arm went down to race circles on your thighs, causing a small whimper to escape your lips. a smirk resided on matt's features against your lips.

he began tracing circles near your inner thighs, causing you to whimper again at the way he was teasing you — his ring clad hand finally found its way in between your thighs, as he rubbed your folds back and forth.

"matt, please," you begged, "please touch me."

"what's that, baby?" matt whispered in your ear, running a hand ever so teasingly over your folds, "you want me to touch you?"

unable to form words at how crazy he was driving you, you just nodded with a little whimper — without warning, matt shoved one of his ringed fingers inside you, causing you to let out a loud whine.

"oh matt..." you moaned out, as he repeatedly pumped his finger in and out of you, "fuck..."

"look at you, fucking my finger like the needy slut you are," matt whispered into your ear, placing a kiss on your neck, "you like it when i touch you like this, don't you?"

"fuck, i really do matt," you whined, as he added another ringed finger inside of you just then.

the pace of his fingers sped up inside you, repeatedly hitting your g spot as you arched your back to give him more access — moans and whimpers repeatedly escaped your mouth as matt continued working his magic inside you, then you felt that familiar feeling in your stomach.

"matt, i'm close," you whimpered out, as he still left kisses along your neck, "i'm gonna cum."

matt stopped with his fingers inside you and took them out, causing you to look at him with furrowed eyebrows — with a grin he licked your arousal off of his fingers causing you to bite your lip as he spread your thighs and pushed your stomach back.

"i want you to cum all over me, sweetheart."

you felt your pussy pulsate at the way matt looked at you hungrily, as he peppered kisses along your thighs — he left small kisses on your folds causing you to whine out. "matt, don't tease me..."

he smirked up at you then shoved his tongue inside you, nipping and sucking on your clit. you moaned out at the feeling, arching your hips upward as he maintained eye contact with you while lapping up your pussy.

"fuck y/n, you taste so fucking good," matt groaned as he came up momentarily, his lips covered in your juices.

your hand went down to tug at his hair as he continued eating you out, and you felt the feeling in your stomach yet again. "oh my gosh, matt i'm gonna..."

"give it to me, baby," matt breathed, "cum all over me."

you released all over matt's face, a plethora of moans and a string of curses leaving your lips as your grip on his hair tightened slightly — matt lapped up all your juices, coming up from between your legs and grinning down at you, his face coated in your arousal.

"you have no idea how bad i've wanted to do that," matt breathed out, as he fell down on your bed beside you.

you had finally caught your breath from the mind blowing orgasm and upon realizing what he just said, your cheeks heated. "you should've been done that."

matt turned to the side and smirked at you. "so does that mean you'll let me more often?"

"if it's gonna feel that good every time, then hell yeah," you giggled, "let's just hope nick and chris don't freak out."

( i hope you enjoyed this my loves, sorry for not posting the past two days ! i love you all, muah💌 )

[seventiesweetheart]

hiii~ how do you feel about writing something about ghostface x reader (either billy or danny) inspired by "sweet serial killer" or "queen of disaster" or thag line from cinnamon girl "if he's a serial killer then what's the worst that can happen to a girl who is already hurt?" IDK I JUST WANT LANA DEL REY FT GHOSTFACE 😭

𓆩♱𓆪 sweet serial killer.

ghostface! billy loomis x fem! reader

INSPO. happiness is a butterfly by lana del rey | “if he’s a serial killer then what’s the worst that can happen to a girl who’s already hurt?”

WARNING. mentions of gore and violence. yandere billy. ghostface breaking into her house. manipulative behavior. fluff! no smut in this one :>

A/N. so sorry anon, this came in so late >< but i hope you like it !!

for a whole week, y/n has done nothing but cry and mourn the loss of her best friend, casey becker. she’s avoided coming to school cause the poor girl couldn’t stand not being able to see her in the hallways. no, she couldn’t bear it, even after her friends have insisted on her being there.

billy and stu were so determined to keep her company, always showing up with new movie rentals and her favorite comfort foods. they hated seeing the poor girl so broken, even if one of them do believe casey deserve what she got for constantly stealing y/n's attention away from him.

but no matter what billy and stu did, it was never enough to fill the void. the horrific image of her best friend's intestines strung around the tree outside her house haunted y/n. who would honestly do such a sick and cruel thing?

y/n sobbed uncontrollably at the thought, her body trembling as she wrapped herself tighter in her (fav color) fleece blanket. she curled up on the couch, her knees drawn to her chest, feeling small and utterly alone. the dim glow of the tv cast flickering shadows on the walls, reflecting off the tear tracks on her cheeks, her eyes swollen and her nose red and runny.

it was already 1:00 a.m. on a saturday, and she remained wide awake in the dimly lit living room, staring blankly at the romcom billy had picked out for her. the lighthearted scenes on the screen felt like a mockery of her current state. but at least it kept her company.

her parents were out of town, too busy sailing away in some vacation beach while their daughter was drowning herself in her own misery. she would never admit it to her friends but it does get lonely isolating herself in her house. and it’s even more frightening to think that whoever killed her best friend still hasnt been caught. besides, who knows? she might be next—

suddenly, a loud ring pierced the quiet, making y/n jump slightly from her position.

who the hell would be calling at such an ungodly hour? the muffled noise from the tv only added to the eerie silence that she was now acutely aware of as the phone continued to ring incessantly.

with a slight pout, she realized the phone wasn’t going to answer itself. and so she mustered all her courage and stood from the couch. it was most likely just her parents checking in; they must be worried sick after hearing the news about the masked killer.

her soft knee-high socks touched the cold hardwood floor as she carefully padded toward the sound. realizing it was coming from the kitchen, she drew closer, the ringing growing louder with each step.

the kitchen was quieter and darker, the only light coming from the moon casting a glow through the window. with trembling hands, she reached out and picked up the phone situated on top of the counter, her pulse quickening at the unknown caller's silence on the other end.

"…hello?" her soft, timid voice asked as she waited for a response.

“hello, y/n.” the voice was low and gravelly, y/n fought hard not to end the call right then and there.

“w-who is this?”

“i’ll answer your question only if you answer mine first.”

y/n face twisted with confusion but she didn’t think too much about it. this is probably just a silly prank call, nothing serious.

“okay… what’s your question?”

the stranger paused a few seconds before finally asking, “what’s your favorite scary movie?”

“i-i’m not really a fan of scary movies.” was the only reply y/n could come with cause it’s true. she despised them. plus, if anything, the recent events had only intensified her aversion to them.

“that’s ashame, never even seen a single one?” the voice prodded.

“nuh uh,” the girl shook her head even if she knew that the stranger obviously couldn’t see her right now.

the voice chuckled softly, “cute.”

“i already answered your question, so answer mine.” she doesn’t know where the courage to say that came from but she immediately bit down on her lip in fear of sounding too confrontational.

“that’s right! and here’s your answer, sweetheart,” the call ends abruptly and all she’s left with is the beeping noise of the telephone.

furrowing her brows, she slowly puts the device back down onto the charging station, unsure of what to make of the conversation. but she decides to push it out of her mind as she backs slowly from the where the phone was.

but suddenly, a hand clamped tightly over her mouth, cutting off her gasp. her eyes widened in shock as she felt a sharp metal press threateningly against her throat.

“make a sound and i’ll gut you up just like your poor best friend.” the voice behind whispered menacingly.

y/n couldn’t stop the flood of tears from pouring as she felt the arm around her and the solid chest behind her guide her out of the kitchen. a warm breath brushed against the back of her ear and down the side of her exposed neck as she weakly tried to clutch onto the hand that was still holding the knife.

of course, billy wasn’t actually going to cut her up. he wouldn’t even place a single scar on the poor girl’s skin. he just needed to threaten her enough to make sure she complied with whatever he wanted. and right now what he wanted was to guide her back to where she was and keep her wrapped possessively in his arms.

“i’m going to let go of your mouth now, sweetheart. but you better not scream, understood?” he warned carefully.

he unwrapped his hand from her mouth, revealing her flushed cheeks and tear-streaked face. billy couldn’t help but pause to admire her vulnerable appearance as she weakly leaned against his chest, her angelic eyes brimming with tears and wetting her fluttery lashes.

her pouty, petal-soft lips looked so dangerously tempting. in that moment, billy felt a primal urge to claim them, to stain them with his blood soaked violence, a violence so diametrically opposed to her sweet innocence.

but he couldn’t bring himself to taint her with his darkness—not when she looked so fragile and dainty in his arms.

© 2024 seventiesweetheart | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[jwonsociety]

enha ✧ when they realized that they loved you

↳ gn!reader / est. relationship / fluff / 5.4k / no warnings!

a/n: sorry for being gone for so long!! i hope you all enjoy this little drabble 🫶 also riki's is def inspired by that one taylor swift lyric hehe

jungwon knew he loved you when...

...he stayed up the whole night talking with you. you and jungwon had fallen into the habit of talking on the phone before going to sleep every night. the two of you could talk about anything and everything. you told each other about your days, your friends, celebrity drama, the weather -- jungwon could chat about any topic as long as he got to hear your voice, your little laughs, your yawns, your soft sighs. that night after you'd been chatting for a while, he heard you gasp. "oh my god, it's 4am!" jungwon looked at his phone and he smiled to himself. he enjoyed talking to you so much that he completely lost track of time. with you, hours felt like mere minutes. that's why, as he wished you goodnight, he said "i love you" for the first time.

...more under the cut!

heeseung knew he loved you when...

...he saw you wearing his hoodie. in the few months since you started dating, you became a familiar presence in heeseung's apartment. it was early one morning, and heeseung slipped out of bed early while you were still asleep to get food. as he sat quietly in the kitchen eating his breakfast, he heard you walk into the room, your footsteps soft on the floor. when he looked up, he was met with the sight of you wearing one of his hoodies. he melted in an instant. it was adorably huge on you; the sleeves covered your hands and the bottom hem hung well past your waist. as he stared at you, his heart bursting at the fact that you were in his clothes, he knew you were the one.

jay knew he loved you when...

...you fell asleep on his shoulder. every so often, you insisted on dragging jay out of the house and spending hours shopping at the local mall. the two of you walked around the whole day, stopping at every shop, trying on everything, and getting snacks at the food court. when your adventure together finally drew to a close, you both took the subway home, taking seats next to each other. the gentle sway of the subway car seemed to slowly rock you to sleep. eventually, you rested your head on jay's shoulder, taking your boyfriend by surprise. he peered down at your sleeping face, your lips parted slightly as your breathing slowed. in that quiet, peaceful moment, jay realized he was irrevocably in love with you.

jake knew he loved you when...

...you cried while watching a kids' movie. movie marathons were a common activity on your and Jake's date nights. that night, you both settled on coco, snuggled together under the blankets. you always had a soft spot for disney movies, and the scene at the end when miguel sings to his grandmother always hits you right in the heart. you sniffled and the tears began to flow down your face. jake giggled softly, surprised that a kids' movie was making you so emotional. "it's so sad!" you said. "how are you not crying?" you buried your face in his chest and he combed his fingers through your hair in an attempt to soothe you. jake loved how big your heart was. jake loved how you felt every emotion so strongly and so genuinely. and most importantly, jake realized that he loved you.

sunghoon knew he loved you when...

...you communicated without speaking. it was saturday night and you were at a friend's party. the bass of the speakers thrummed and countless people filled the house, laughing and dancing and talking. sunghoon, forever an introvert, was beginning to reach the end of his social battery. he spotted you from across the room, chatting animatedly with a group of your mutual friends. you looked up, making eye contact with your boyfriend. you quickly excused yourself from the conversation and made your way over to him. "let's go home, i'm tired too," you said. "how'd you know i was tired?" he responded. you smiled. "your face said everything, hoon." sunghoon smiled back at you. right in front of him stood a person who understood him more than anyone, who he could speak to without saying a word. sunghoon was in love.

sunoo knew he loved you when...

...you beat him in MarioKart. the two of you had decided to spend the evening in, nestled together under a warm blanket on the couch with MarioKart on the TV. sunoo had beaten you in the previous four races and you were determined to secure a victory over your boyfriend. competitiveness was definitely a recurring theme in your relationship and MarioKart was essentially life or death. you and sunoo yelled at the screen, playfully shoving each other in an attempt to sabotage the other. as the final lap drew to a close, you finally surpassed him, ending in first place. when you leaped up from the couch, jumping and laughing in victory, sunoo took one look at your overjoyed smile and he immediately knew he was in love.

riki knew he loved you when...

...you two danced around the kitchen together. that night, everything in the world seemed to be silent except for the sound of your voices floating through the kitchen as you talked. music played softly from a speaker and riki had taken a seat at the counter, watching you fondly as you stood in front of him and divulged the events of your day. then, your favorite song came on shuffle and you grabbed his hand, pulling him in and twirling him around the room. the two of you danced together, your laughter mingling with the music. riki couldn't help but be starstruck by the sight of your smile illuminated by the glow of the refrigerator light. he knew in that moment that he wanted every night to be spent with you like this.

[cissyenthusiast010155]

How It All Started… ~Pre-S1!Younger!Olivia Benson xFem Older!Detective!Partner!Reader

Summary— My own little take on how Liv ended up working for SVU. I know the story with Karen and the two year old, but in this AU, Reader is Liv’s first partner and this case causes her to move to SVU.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: normal SVU related violence, talk of murder, blood, mentioned suicide, working the case, young and innocent Liv, etc.

Enjoy (;

It seemed to all have been arranged–Olivia sensed this when she finally entered her apartment that night and closed the door behind her. Looking back, it all made sense now. How could they have missed it?

A week ago, Olivia and you her partner had walked onto the fresh crime scene. You specialized in homicide cases, and this case was a homicide if they had ever seen one. Olivia blew into her gloves, sliding them onto her hands one at a time, as she walked into the kitchen where the body lay. She still was not completely used to the sight of a body, especially a girl as young as this one was, so she took a moment for some deep breaths, before she drew reality back into her head.

“Female vic, Ellie Paige, 17, shot in the head… Jesus…” You sighed, rubbing your forehead and staring at the splattered blood and then the body.

It wasn’t everyday that you two found a seventeen year old dead in a kitchen. Although it did happen more than you or Olivia would have liked. The girl was on her back, face up, with a singular bullet to the head. Blood was spilt across the floor and splattered across the cabinets from the shot. But something about this particular case got to both detectives.

“Time of death?” Olivia breathed out a question to the coronary who was standing near the dead girl’s body.

“In between 1 and 3am…” they responded.

“Mom a Katherine Paige is in the bedroom, apparently hysterical.” You spoke out, looking to Olivia, “Liv, they waited for us to interview her.”

Olivia nodded, looking around the room once more, before following you into the adjoining room. In the main bedroom, there were two techs trying to calm an older woman down. The mother. You swiftly excused the techs, as Liv approached the woman.

“Ms. Paige. I’m Detetive Olivia Benson, and this is my partner Detective Y/N L/N. We are here to take your statement. Can you please tell us what happened?”

The woman’s hands were flailing and shaking as she paced back and forth. At the sound of Olivia’s voice, the woman stopped in her tracks and suddenly met Liv’s gaze.

“I don't, I don't understand… I don’t understand…!” Ms. Paige exclaimed, “I… my daughter, Oh God my daughter!!”

The mother then proceeded to break down, and Olivia was swift to grab her before she fell to the floor. She continued to ramble.

“Hey, let's get her out of here. Take her to the precinct…” You murmured lowly for only Liv to hear as you nudged her lightly.

Olivia looked up at you and nodded, proceeding to get up and guide Ms. Paige through the room, past the kitchen, and out the door. After she successfully got the woman in their patrol car, the ride to the precinct was rather smooth.

Both detectives made sure that the woman was comfortable, placing her in the family room at the precinct, a colorful and bright room, designated for family interviews. Olivia sat with the woman on a couch, while you watched on the opposing side of the mirror window.

“Ms. Paige, I know this is hard… But can you do your best to try and tell me what happened…? What is the last thing you remember?” Olivia gently prompted the woman, after letting the woman calm down a bit.

“I… I remember going to bed… I was really tired…” the woman stammered.

The young brunette detective squeezed Ms. Paige’s hands with her own in reassurance.

“That’s good, really good. What is the last thing you remember about Ellie?”

“Ellie… Oh Ellie… I… I remember Ellie doing the dishes…” The woman stammered in response.

You watched your partner continue the interview with a similar pattern of responses. Meanwhile, you began to look over the current files of the case. When Olivia was finished had let Ms. Paige go for the night, she came back to her desk across from you, who were quizzically looking at the case file.

“What’s up…?” Liv asked you, nudging you slightly along with her prompted words.

You were sucked back into reality from your thoughts, sucking in a breath before starting.

“Nothing I just…”

“You think the mom looks good for it…?” Olivia asked with a chuckle, accompanied by an eyeroll.

“Yea… Yeah I do.” You chuckled in response.

The young brunette sat in her desk chair and sighed.

“It is convenient that she doesn’t remember anything…” Olivia admitted.

Now that you had gotten your partner hooked on the theory, you lit up and started to present your case with gleaming and intrigued expression.

“Yes, and prints on the gun came back and guess who’s prints were on it…?” You said with a glimmer in his eyes.

“You already compared prints?” Olivia chuckled again when you nodded and hummed in response, “Ok ok, I’m going to guess the prints belong to the mom…”

“Bingo.”

“But she had no gunshot residue…” Liv sighed.

“Aha! But neither did the girl!” You exclaimed.

“Okay… But doesn’t that speak for a break-in?” Olivia questioned skeptically.

You shot your partner another quizzical look.

“A break-in where they only shot the girl, didn’t take anything, didn’t harm the mom, and they left the gun…? Nuh uh, I don’t think so…” you insisted.

“I don’t know… Something is off about this one…” Liv hummed.

“No signs of struggle on the girl. If she knew her attacker, she may not have put up as much of a fight…”

Liv sat back in her chair, in thought.

“What…?” You chuckled.

~~

Two weeks later, the Katherine Paige was arrested for the murder of her daughter, Ellie Paige. But nonetheless, something didn’t sit right with Olivia.

“Benson, you’re still getting used to this job… it’s okay to be wrong. That’s part of working homicide, sometimes our theory’s turn out to be just that, theories.” You explained, looking across your desk to the young brunette.

Olivia still wasn’t convinced. Her gut told her it was something else. But she was forced to move on with her partner, go to the next homicide case.

That was until one of Ellie’s friends stepped into the precinct. She told the detectives a story about how Ellie’s mother abused her and how Ellie was suicidal. Olivia’s gut wrenched having to interview this girl, and by the time she met you on the other side of the glass, she wanted to throw up.

“Gotta hand it to you, now your theory has more credibility… maybe your gut was right.”

“How could a mother do that to her child…?” Liv breathed out.

You handed the young woman a cup of water. She took it gratefully.

The case was reevaluated and closed out, ruled a suicide. But it changed Olivia. And four weeks later, Benson was transferring to SVU.

~~~

Olivia Benson Masterlist

[probably-writing-x]

Curtains Closed

Summary:

Warnings: Heartbreaking angst I’m so sorry, cursing but I think that’s everything

Author’s Note: I am so sorry this is so sad fhskghs but i loved writing this request !! Please send me any more that you may be thinking of and I’ll do my best

The set is bustling by the time you get there, crew and cast dotted around everywhere all preparing to film and refilm scenes. This was the first time that you’d been able to make the visit, and yet Drew had been filming here for at least a month. It was a new film he was working on, but with you filming recently too, it felt like your paths just weren’t crossing.

“Hey (Y/N)!” One of the assistants smiles when she sees you, “His trailer is just over there.”

You thank her and turn in the direction of Drew’s trailer, where his character’s name is printed on a sheet of paper in the window. You knock and wait, almost nervously, for the door to open. You always felt nervous when you went weeks without seeing him properly, even a year into your relationship, that hadn’t changed.

It takes a few seconds before he comes to the door, swinging it open exaggeratively. His hair is messy and his top splashed with patches of water, a grin on his face.

“Hey baby!” Drew grins, though the moment stops quickly when he’s shot at with another spray of water, “You bitch!”

Your heart feels like it sinks for just a second, enough for you to notice. He hadn’t thought to kiss you when he saw you, not even reach out and wrap you in his arms.

“Sorry, sorry, come in,” He encourages, stepping out of the way for you to step through.

In the trailer, he’s joined by his costar, who you knew was called Emily. She was a beautiful girl, being a model before she’d become an actress, and she played his love interest in the film.

“Hey, you must be (Y/N) right?” Emily grins, holding a water gun in her hand that is still pointed at Drew.

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you Emily.”

She doesn’t respond to you, instead squealing as Drew shoots her back, spraying her hair on either side of her face.

“So, how’s filming going?” You ask, sitting on the sofa across from Emily.

When Drew sits down, he takes the seat next to her.

“It’s good,” Drew nods, “We finished pretty early today, always easy doing scenes with Emily, you know?”

“Yeah, of course,” Emily grins, “We’re like a dream team on set.”

Your words seem to fail you, and you’re not sure why your chest feels so tight. This was stupid, right? They worked together, they were friends, it was good that Drew was working with someone that he got on well with. But that’s how it was when you two first got together, and part of you felt a sinking feeling that your instincts hadn’t failed you here.

“So where were you thinking of going tonight?” Drew asks, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table between the two couches.

You swallow the lump in your throat to respond but Emily cuts in quickly.

“Ooh why don’t you go to that Thai place we went to?” She suggests, and you’re sure that she has shuffled closer to Drew on the sofa.

“Yeah, we could do, it was so good,” Drew nods, “Me and Em went last week, I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in my life.”

The lump is back in your throat, “Yeah, sure, whatever you fancy.”

~~~

That night, you and Drew decided to order food in instead of going out, after you’d told him that you didn’t feel well. He’d eaten three slices of your pizza when you told him that you couldn’t finish it. And he had believed you when you told him there was nothing else that was wrong.

You were both in the kitchen now, washing up the plates you’d used for your food.

“So, Emily seems nice,” You nod, dragging the kitchen towel over your plate.

“Yeah, she’s great, right?” Drew smiles, “We just have such a laugh on set, genuinely I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much.”

You felt like you could cry in that moment, not just from that comment but from the way his eyes seemed so bright when he spoke about her, the way you felt like his eyes hadn’t been on yours as much as normal.

He hands you the last plate and shakes his hands off into the water, taking one side of the towel in your hands to dry his off.

“Hey,” He takes it out of your hands and sets it down, wrapping his arms around your waist, “It’s good to properly see you again.”

You force yourself to smile, setting a hand on his chest.

“I mean it, I feel like we’ve both been way too busy recently,” He nods, “It’s good for us to have days like this.”

You still can’t force your body to bring out any words, just looking at the boy in front of you like you’d never seen him before.

“Hey?” Drew dips his tall figure down to try and catch your eyes, “This is good, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” You smile and he kisses your cheek, releasing his arms from around you.

Your heart feels heavy and empty all at once, your mind running a thousand thoughts and thinking of nothing at all. When he walks off to disappear into the lounge, you feel like a part of you disappears with him.

~~~

That night, you both get ready for bed like you normally do. You brush your teeth together and he goes into the bedroom whilst you’re washing your face. It’s all the routine that you’re used to, and when you shut off the ensuite light, he’s already sat propped up against the headboard, scrolling through his phone. You’re still wearing one of his tops to bed, another piece of normality that it felt comforting to keep.

“Drew, can I ask you something?” You ask cautiously, hovering by the side of the bed like you’re worried about getting in.

“Sure, what is it?” He shuts off his phone screen and puts it on the bedside table.

“Do you think things are still the same between us when we don’t see each other as much? You know, like when we’re both so busy?”

You watch the way his face drops a little, “What are you talking about?”

“I mean… we’ve just both been so busy recently.”

“Yeah, and we make it work,” He continues, “We still text, we call, and it’s only been a few weeks, we’ve done worse.”

You drag a hand through your hair, pulling out one of the tangles to distract yourself, “I don’t-“

“What is this (Y/N)?” He shakes his head, “Is there something you need to tell me?”

“I just,” You take a deep breath, if you don’t say it now you never will, “I saw you with Emily today and I-“

“This is about Emily?” He sits up straighter, “Are you kidding?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you two went to dinner together?”

His words fail him and it’s like you can see the confidence crumble just a little, “I don’t-“

“Is it because you knew that it would look weird? For you two to just be going out together?” You continue, a new sense of confidence fuelling your words, “If you didn’t think it was weird, you would’ve told me. We talk everyday Drew. What excuse did you come out with?Or did you just hope that I wouldn’t ask?”

“I just told you I was going out with the cast, it was last Friday,” He admits, as if he’s just been caught in the act completely.

Your heart sinks, “So you lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie to you, I mean, it wasn’t like that,” He scrambles, standing up now so that both of you were on either side of the bed now, too much and too little space between you all at once, “I just knew how you’d think it looked, and we hadn’t seen each other in a couple of weeks, and you were busy with work, and I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“So I’m busy working, and you’re out on dates with a girl I hadn’t even met before?!”

“No, no, no, don’t be like that!” He seems more aggressive now, “It wasn’t a fucking date, okay? We’re friends.”

“Friends? Because she’s just so funny, and you’re fighting in your trailer, and you’re sat next to her, and you’re doing everything with her?”

“I’m sat next to her?” He half-laughs, “So you’re noting down where I sit now?”

“But it’s not just that, is it, Drew? I haven’t seen you in weeks and you didn’t even care! It could’ve been anyone walking through the door and you’d have had the same reaction! It’s like I was fucking interrupting!” You are waving your arms around as you speak, the way Drew knew you only did when you were getting angrier.

“You weren’t fucking interrupting,” He shakes his head, “But if you don’t trust me in that then maybe this is more of an issue than just Emily. What else, (Y/N)?”

You look at him there, his features darkened by the lack of light in your bedroom. He’s more toned than ever for this role, the muscles of his abs dipping in and out of his stomach and casting small shadows over his torso, his arms larger and his shoulders broader. If you looked for long enough, it felt like he was completely different. But his eyes were still yours, in the way they creased when you made him laugh, and the way his dimples hooked either side of his lips when he saw you happy. But this time it felt tainted, your mind overloading with thoughts of him giving the same eyes, the same smile, the same dimples to her.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Drew,” You whisper the words, uncertain of how they’ll sit in the air between you.

“What does that mean?” He shakes his head, the fury in him settling down into worry.

You’re silent, complete silence between the two of you.

“Let’s just go to bed, okay? We’re just tired,” Drew states, convincing himself along with you, “We’re not thinking straight, this isn’t us. Let’s just go to sleep, and we’ll wake up, and we’ll be fine, okay?”

You don’t reply.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice, okay?”

“Okay,” You croak out, your eyes threatening to spill unforgiving tears.

He takes a deep breath and gets back into bed, pulling down the sheets on your side. You follow suit, climbing in beside him and pulling the sheets high up over you as if a shield from the argument that still lingered in the air. Drew dips an arm beneath your back and pulls you into him, another piece of normality he seemed reluctant to give up. His body is warm but it feels too warm beneath your skin, burning into you just a little. His chest rises and falls but it’s not in the same rhythm, his heart slowing down as yours still felt like it was racing.

Eventually, you’re sure that he has fallen asleep, and you stay awake for far too much time after, your eyes staring at the closed curtains on the other side of the room, willing for the light to come through.

~~~

The following morning, you’re awake before he is, though you’re sure that you hadn’t had more than a couple of hours sleep the night before.

It’s cold in the apartment, like an air of the inevitable had settled over everything that the two of you had. When Drew wakes up, you’re sat with your feet and knees tucked up to you on the sofa, your hands around yourself.

“Morning,” He says, his voice still sleepy and thick, joggers hanging low on his hips, forcing the V-line of his torso to poke out.

You look up and offer him a small smile, the biggest that your lack of energy can muster.

“Did you sleep okay?”

He regrets the question almost as soon as it is said, as if he’d just asked you the worst thing possible in the moment. Instead, he walks over the short distance to you and sits down, close to you on the sofa like he wants to draw you into him.

“Listen, (Y/N),” He begins, “I know things aren’t ideal. We’re both busy, we’re working in different places, different hours, and it’s not going to end any time soon. But we can make this work, okay? We can change things. I’m going to tell you everything, I’m not going to lie to you, I’ll make sure I have more days off and I can come and visit you, and we can facetime more instead of just calling,” He pauses to take a breath, “We can fight for this (Y/N).”

“I don’t know how much longer I can just keep fighting, Drew,” Your voice is croaky, threatening to break.

“But this is us, baby, we can’t lose this,” He sits himself closer to you, though avoiding contact like he is afraid you’ll shatter in front of his eyes.

“Drew, listen,” You let yourself breathe for a moment, “This has worked for us, it has. We’ve always made it work. But, right now, it doesn’t feel like that anymore. We’re in different places, and this time it was only weeks, next time it might be a couple of months. You’ll go on press for the film, I’ll be here. I don’t know how much we can keep doing that.”

“We can try, can’t we?”

“I’ve never seen you with anyone and felt the way I did yesterday, I saw you with Emily and I felt like a completely different person, like I was this jealous and overthinking version of myself, and I don’t want to be that. I don’t want to see you after weeks and just argue with you,” You’re speaking through tears that you are fighting back, “This isn’t us, you said it last night. But if we stay together now, this is what we’re going to be, and I don’t want you to be someone I end up hating.”

Drew’s silent, staring at you like he’s hoping he’ll wake up from a nightmare.

“So I think we need to break up,” You choke through the words, though they feel cold as they leave your lips.

“(Y/N) please,” He whispers, tears spilling over his eyelashes.

“I can’t fight for this anymore Drew,” You shake your head and your tears fall too now, staining your cheeks as they do.

He moves forward and grips your hands, pulling them into the middle of his larger palms and bringing them to his lips. You drop your head forward and press your forehead to his. His tears drop down and mix with yours over your tangle of hands, neither of you wanting to move as if moving would solidify what had just been finalised already.

“I’m never not going to love you, (Y/N).”

You nod against his chest, “Then you’ll go, and I’ll stay, and we’ll find our way back.”

(((Adding a normal people reference so that you don’t all hate me for breaking your hearts xoxo)))

[thebadgerclan]

Salvation

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Summary: You are his salvation...

A/N: This is based on the scene from Queen Charlotte where she finds out what the doctors have been doing to George (episode 5 I think?)

The demon was back.  After months of peace, of Nikolai’s mind being entirely his own, it was back.  The King had flown from his window three weeks ago, and since then, your contact with him had been limited.  It was a protocol that your husband had drawn up after his last battle with the demon, a contingency plan that he prayed he’d never have to enact.  But prayers weren’t always answered.

You now slept in separate chambers, your husband had returned to being chained to his bed and sedated.  Even during the day, a time that had been proven safe from the demon, Nikolai was distant, subdued.  You’d overheard him discussing it with one of his advisers: “Her Majesty is worried, moi tsar.”  “I cannot risk her,” your husband had responded.  “She is far too important.”

What little you saw of your husband broke your heart.  He looked exhausted, and you might have been able to chalk it up to the stress of the situation, had it not been for one minuscule, almost imperceptible detail.  Nikolai had brought in physicians from all over Ravka in hopes of finding a cure, and one, Doctor Laisia Orlov from Tsibeya, had some interesting theories.  At this point, Nikolai was willing to try anything to expel the demon from him, so he allowed Doctor Orlov to set up rooms in the Palace to do her work.

It was nearly a month and a half into your husbands treatment that you noticed it.  Nikolai had been meeting with his council when the Doctor entered, and when she walked near the King, he flinched.  You didn’t claim to be a medical professional, but you knew that a patient shouldn’t flinch when their doctor walked past.  From then, you noticed that Nikolai would mumble to himself, his hands would shake, his head would twitch.  Something was amiss, and it had something to do with Doctor Orlov.

It was two weeks after that that you got a feeling deep in your gut that something was wrong.  Not just wrong, but deeply, horribly wrong.  You pushed aside the papers you’d been going over and tracked down Nikolai’s valet.  He was flanked by four guards, which was extremely unusual, but they bowed when you approached.  “My Queen,” Akim, your husband’s valet, greeted.  “How may I assist you?”

“Akim, where is my husband?”  Before he could answer, one of the guards interjected.  “He is occupied, moya tsaritsa,” he said, which only raised your suspicion.  “Forgive me, but my question was not directed at you.  Akim, where is Nikolai?”  The valet shifted, and you pushed on.  “I will not ask again, Akim.”  “He is–” he cleared his throat.  “He is receiving treatment.  With Doctor Orlov.”

Again, your suspicion rose, but you forced yourself to remain calm.  “Well then, I should like to observe her work.  She is employing some revolutionary methods, is she not?”  “You do not wish to see that, Your Majesty,” said another guard, and your expression hardened.  “I am the Queen,” you said.  “You do not presume to tell me what I would and would not like to see.  Now, where are the Doctor’s rooms located?”

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” the first guard said.  “I’m afraid I cannot grant your request.”  You drew yourself up to your full height, and while this guard was taller than you, he cowered a bit.  “I am not asking,” you said, voice icy.  “Now, tell me where my husband is, or I will have you charged with treason.”  “This way, Your Majesty,” Akim said suddenly, and you hurried to follow him.

The King’s valet led you into the kitchens and the storage cellar below, your concern growing with every step.  Then you heard it: screaming.  Nikolai, screaming.  You hiked up your skirts and ran down the corridor, panic bubbling in you.  When you came to a door, you slammed it open, the sight behind it igniting rage and horror in you.  Your husband was tied to a chair, a gag between his teeth, a red hot poker pressed to his chest.

“What is this?” you demanded, and Doctor Orlov paused.  “Untie the King.”  Akim and the four guards had trailed you, but all stood frozen.  “Untie the King!  I command you!”  “Queen Y/N, you cannot–”  “Do not tell me what I can and cannot do!” you snapped, composure completely slipping.  “I will have you hanged for this, do you understand me?  Torturing your King?”

“It is not torture, Majesty, it is medicine!” Doctor Orlov argued.  “You cannot have me hanged for practicing medicine.”  “I am your Queen!” you screamed, moving to stand nose-to-nose with the Doctor.  “If I wish for you to be hanged, then you will be hanged.  If I wish for you to be drawn and quartered, then you shall be.  If I wish for you to rot in a cell for the rest of your pathetic life, then you shall!  Get her out of my sight!”

The guards snapped to attention and dragged the Doctor out, and you turned your attention to your husband, who was being supported by Akim.  “Oh, Nikolai,” you breathed, and he fell into your arms, clutching your gown.  He was trembling, mumbling to himself.  “My love, what have they done to you?”  “Y-Y-Y/N?” he managed, and you nodded, cupping his cheek.  “Yes, darling, it’s Y/N.  Y/N’s here, I’m here.  It’s me, sweetheart.”

You felt him relax in your arms, and he let out a shuddering breath.  “Akim,” you called.  “Have the guards clear the halls and get a Healer to our rooms.”  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the valet said, hurrying from the room.  “It didn’t like her,” Nikolai mumbled, and you stroked his hair.  “What was that, my love?”  “It didn’t like her.  The demon.”  You were about to ask what he meant by that, but Akim re-entered.  “The halls are clear, Majesty.”

The two of you helped Nikolai to walk back to your rooms, and you changed him into his nightclothes, tucking him into bed.  The Healer arrived soon after, examining the King and healing the burns, rope marks, and leech bites.  “He’ll need rest,” she instructed.  “And he needs you.  After what he endured…”  “Of course,” you replied, thanking the Healer and dismissing her.

Nikolai was dozing, and you climbed into bed at his side, pulling him into your arms.  Already he seemed better, his face calm and relaxed, his tremor gone, no longer mumbling.  “Nikolai, darling?”  “Hmm?”  “What did you mean earlier when you said ‘it didn’t like her’?”  Your husband shifted in your arms so he could look at you.  “The demon didn’t like Orlov,” he explained.

“When she was around, it came to the forefront of my mind, it tried to get out.  And when she was…treating me, it would fight like mad to get free.  But when you came in there…when you held me, it went away.”  “Went away?”  “Mhmm,” your husband replied.  “When she was there, I had to fight to keep it at bay, but with you, it’s gone.  I don’t feel it at all.”  “Nikolai,” you said suddenly, clarity coming over you.  “Do you remember the night the demon came back?  When was it?”

The King thought for a moment before answering.  “I think it was the 8th, why?”  Suddenly, it all made sense.  “I was staying with my mother in Balakirev then,” you said.  “And that was the first night we’d spent apart since–”  “Since after the war,” Nikolai finished for you.  “Since I was infected with the demon.”  It all made perfect sense now: it wasn’t chance that the demon re-appeared, it happened in your absence.  

Now that he thought about it, more and more pieces clicked into place.  He’d felt the demon clawing at his mind before, when he was anxious or stressed, but when you were near, it released its clutches and left him in peace.  The Darkling had given him this curse, but the Darkling had never known love, never known the solace of another’s arms.  But Nikolai did, and it was that love, that solace that was his cure.  Not medicine, not science, not any religious ritual, it was you.  It had always been you.

“Y/N,” Nikolai said.  “You saved me.”  “I’ll have that mad woman hanged for what she did to you, I’ll–”  “Darling,” your husband said, smiling softly, brushing your hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek tenderly.  “As attractive as it is to hear you threaten someone on my behalf, that’s not what I mean.”  You heard a hint of his usual wit and banter slip back into his tone, and you knew that your husband was back.

“You are what keeps the demon at bay, my love,” Nikolai continued.  “When I feel it coming on, trying to get out, all I have to do is look at you, and it vanishes.  I have never felt its claws when I’m with you, when you’re in my arms.  Y/N Lantsov, you are my salvation, my solace, and my greatest love.”  Tears, happy tears pricked at your eyes, and you pressed your lips to his.

“If you’re making flowery declarations, then you must be feeling better,” you joked, but Nikolai was deadly serious.  “I’m not joking, Y/N.  The two months we were apart were the worst of my life. I couldn’t sleep, I barely ate, I was a shell of myself.  But an hour in your arms and I’m a new man.  You are my savior, Y/N.”  “Nikolai, I–”  “No, my love, you are.  My Queen, my salvation.”

You smiled, kissing him again.  “I love you so much, Nikolai,” you whispered, pulling him closer.  “I love you, I love you, I love you.  Saints, I’ve missed you.”  Nikolai nuzzled his face into your chest, happy to be held in your embrace.  “I love you too, my darling Y/N.  And I missed you far more than I could ever say.”  That Doctor would pay for what she’d done, but for now, you had your Nikolai, and he had his salvation.  His Y/N, his wife, his Queen, his love.

[isasoff]

jealous girl

drew starkey x actress! Fem reader.

summary: You have always been a little jealous of Odessa but when you see the movie, her chemistry with your boyfriend Drew, you can't help but feel… insecure but being the nice boyfriend that he is, he is responsible for making those doubts disappear, that insecurity and jealousy of his pretty girl

A/N: I don't know if this is good, also English is not my first language, so tell me if there is any mistake.

Looking at your phone you find a news item, a rumor about your boyfriend Drew dating his friend Odessa, at first you don't take it seriously but that night when you see how she was almost on top of him and he didn't do anything to avoid it, you couldn't help but listen. those voices in your head, she is pretty, they would be a great couple although you don't say anything because you don't want to sound like a jealous and insecure girlfriend but here you are looking at yourself in the mirror in your room thinking about her and him kissing and doing other things. After that film your doubts came to the surface completely, they were not the one to say anything about those scenes because you yourself also had that type of scene in some of your projects. But there was their incredible chemistry again that you saw, that you felt through the screen, you just couldn't take it anymore, you couldn't feel it anymore so you walked to the kitchen where Drew was having a glass of water "Drew" "Yes, baby, tell me what." "it happens" "do you like her?" You ask "who drinks what are you talking about" his voice was full of confusion "let me phrase the question better, yeah, umh… are you. Do you like Odessa?" You didn't finish saying it when Drew responded "no, of course not, love, what are you talking about?" "I just… I feel jealous, insecure. I hate feeling this way, Drew." feel more like that, drew me" you started to ramble and the fact that drew didn't say anything only increased your fear that it was true, but while drew was just in shock, did you really think, that about him? He had given you reason to think that he was not completely faithful to you.

You only saw how close he had gotten when he caressed your arms. You were going to move away from his touch but he just held you a little tighter without hurting you. "I've never loved anyone like I love you and I'm very sure I never will. Yes? Just trust." in me she won't be able to do that to you pretty, I love you not her, she's just a friend" his hands now tried to go up to your cheeks but you only moved away from his touch but he decided to ignore it "calm down baby, yes, please don't cry You break my heart" "I'm sorry Drew, just that she's pretty and perfect and I…" his hands tried to reach your cheeks again but you pushed him away just like before now you were angry "don't touch me" you'll instantly regret it To say it when you saw the expression on his face, he seemed devastated, sad, and something else that you couldn't detect "I'm sorry baby, I just…" you said as you ran your hand through your hair before finishing the question "can I touch you please? No torture me this way" you knew that drew loved physical contact in fact that was his love language you were sure of them, but you didn't know how much your words affected him, and the distance you had taken days before avoiding his physical contact. You approached him and hugged him, trying to make up for your mistake. He put his arms on your waist as a reflex and let out a sigh of satisfaction, pressing you closer to him, "Please just trust me, okay? Promise me that if you ever feel that way again, you'll tell me, I couldn't bear to hurt you." He took your cheeks and began to caress them, "You are my life, my love." His hands moved down from your cheeks to your thighs so that your legs were tangled in his torso. "I know, baby. doubts appear in my head and… I hate that we fight" you said while you made shapes with your hands on Drew's shoulders "shh I do it too" Drew says while putting their foreheads together "why don't we take a bath to relax, okay? I love you" "I love you too" While he was showering, and Drew was rubbing a sponge over your shoulders, he whispered in your ear "I won't leave room for those doubts, I won't let them appear again. I can't lose you, not for something I can fix for nothing in general."

[sgtmickeyslaughter]

67 for the drabble challenge:>>

Hey Jade! Thanks for asking, hope you don't mind that i turned your bloody ask into something a little more domestic

67. “You’re bleeding all over my carpet.”

Ian had just run out of Lip and Tami’s housewarming party for more soda, he’d barely been gone five minutes but the scene he returned to was far from the relatively banal Sunday afternoon barbecue he'd left behind. 

“Oh Jesus, I think it’s broken” Debbie was shrieking. 

“It’s not broken,” Lip argued dismissively. “Mickey, lean your fucking head back.” 

“I think he has to go further back, like lean his head back off the edge of the table to keep the blood in” Carl chimed in.

“I’m not fuckin’ doing that” Mickey’s muffled voice snapped.

“Yeah, definitely don’t” Liam said nervously.

“Mickey, shut up. Every time you open your mouth you’re bleeding all over my carpet!” Tami snapped. 

“What the hell happened?” Ian interrupted, taking in the scene in the living room. Lip had a bloody cloth pressed none too gently against the lower half of Mickey’s face, everyone else was crowded around the couch eyeing him curiously, especially Franny, who was trying to get a peak around the cloth. 

For a second, all the heads in the room snapped to him and no one said anything. The perfect stillness was broken by Freddy’s barely stifled sniffles finally pouring over into real tears, as he dropped the baseball he was holding and brought both chubby kid hands up to cover his eyes.

It was pretty easy to put together what happened, he had been so thrilled to start his first tee-ball season, for a second Ian worried that this would ruin the sensitive kid’s excitement. 

“I’m so sorry,” he wailed. Mickey shrugged Lip off of him, revealing the path of blood gushing from his nose and down the front of his mouth and chin. Someone drew in a harsh breath at the sight, but Mickey just leaned forward towards where Freddy was watching him pitifully.

“Look kid, you don’t gotta’ apologize to me. It was an accident, accidents happen. I’m a little bloody but I still have all my teeth” Mickey started, showing off his teeth, blood stained but thankfully intact. 

He sniffed and winced slightly but recovered quickly. “Just be more careful where you throw that thing, got it?” He said, nodding at the baseball and the small red stain it left on the beige rug Tami was so worried about. 

“I’ll be careful Uncle Mickey,” Fred agreed hastily, watching him with wide, tearful eyes. 

“Okay, go get me some frozen peas, you know where they are right?” Mickey said easily, leaning back with the towel back on his face.

Freddy ran back into the kitchen excitedly, happy enough to have a sense that he could help make it better. Everyone dispersed from there, and Lip walked over to join his bother.

“The worst thing you’ve ever done to me was make Mickey Milkovich my kid’s favorite Uncle,” Lip joked as he took the soda out of a shocked Ian’s hand, freeing him from his spot in the entry way so he could intercept Fred on his way back to the living room. Ian took the cold peas with a ruffle through his blonde curls and sent him off gently with Franny. 

“He got you good, huh?” Ian said, wrapping the ice pack in a towel and pressing it gently against the damaged area slowly turning purple.

“The kid has an arm like Greg fuckin’ Maddux” Mickey groaned quietly, finally dropping the brave face he was putting on for Fred. “This shit hurts like hell.” 

Ian settled next to him on the couch, hold the bundle to his enflamed skin. “You were very nice, might have saved his future professional career” he joked.

“What am I going to do, give him the Terry Milkovich special?” Mickey shrugged uncomfortably after a beat. 

“Nah,” Ian said lightly, tipping Mickey back gently with a hand on the back of his neck. “Come on, we can get you in a dark, air-conditioned room with extra strength Tylenol. Let’s just grab a couple plates of food, they owe us.”

“Sounds great” Mickey responded sarcastically. “Nothing goes with the taste of blood like your sisters shitty potato salad.”

Ian ran off to collect some food before returning to the living room and guiding Mickey out.

"-was an ugly fucking carpet anyways."

hope you liked it!

Prompt game fun!

[beneathsakurashade]

why did my favorite game turn into a dating sim? twst x gen reader (crack fic) CH: 2 me. u. church. in wedding outfits. rn

CH: 1

The two of you sit across from each other on opposite sofas.  Enjoying a pleasant late afternoon meal of tea and various cakes, it felt like a scene from a fluffy fanfic.  “Man, I remember one time I had a birthday party at a cafe or something and we got served lemonade and cookies” you smile, serving yourself another small cake.  “Lemonade and cookies? I haven’t heard about that before, processed sweets and drinks are forbidden in my household” Riddle remarks taking a small sip of tea.  “Damn, that’s crazy, is that why your fave food is strawberry tarts?” You reply.  “Yes, the tarts that Trey makes are my exception to that rule.  In fact, Trey bakes all of the desserts for our dorm.” he explains.   

    “Wait Trey makes these? Like ALL of them? Dang, bro’s a great baker, I’m banned from the kitchen in my household for some reason” you say “Banned from the kitchen? H-how did that happen?” He sighs nervously and you shrug in response “I think it was because of that one time I microwaved a mozzarella stick for like a minute and almost burned down the house.  Or that time I gave my family food poisoning the first time I cooked dinner.  Wait maybe it was that time I cooked a pizza and it fell down to the bottom of the oven from the rack and we had to buy a new oven… Dunno, tbh they're prob just being haters”.  Riddle chokes on his tea and coughs “Uh-I-I see…I suppose then I’ll have to be the one cooking in the relationship”.

“Speaking of this relationship, am I gonna take your last name for a month?  Or are you gonna take mine?” You ask “I thought about this, and while I would like to keep my name.  I don’t mind taking yours, it is only a month after all”. “Hmmm, Y/N Rosehearts or Riddle L/N…” you sigh “Quite the conundrum” “Indeed…”     The door is flung open by two students who you recognize as Ace and Deuce.  You jump in surprise and drop the cookie that you were holding.  “Housewarden Riddle! Is it true that you’re gonna get married?” Ace exclaims and Riddle stiffens “Y-yes that’s correct, but only temporarily! A month at most”.  You pout and pick up the fallen cookie “Rip soldier” you mutter and turn to the two “What have you to say for killing my cookie?” Deuce bows “Our deepest apologies!” Ace groans “No need to be all proper Deuce, its not like they’re a celebrity or something” he smiles “The names Ace Trappola, and this here -he points to Deuce- is Deuce Spade”.  You sigh “Erm actually, I have three hundred and sixty seven followers on hoyolab, so yes, I am a celebrity. Also I know, Riddle complained about how you’re among the worst students that he’s seen in all his twenty years.  Btw I’m Y/N L/N, professional failure and yapper, with rizz”.     “I feel bad for ya’ to be honest.  With all the rules here n’ stuff” Ace sighs and sits down beside Riddle on the couch, much to the other’s chagrin.  You shrug in response “I know, but that’s the price you pay for love I suppose.  I don’t mind it if I can be married to my husband here for a month”.  Riddle turns red and Ace laughs “We better get used to seeing a strawberry red housewarden Deuce!” Deuce responds confused “Okay!” You smile “You two are silly, I like it, but stop harassing my pookie”.  Riddle turns an even darker shade of red if that was possible and collars Ace.  Deuce watches on in confusion, unsure of whether to defend his friend or his Housewarden.  You liked Ace, he reminded you of a childhood friend that you had back home, though said friend always pretended not to know you at school for whatever reason.  That’s probably what drew you to his character in Twisted Wonderland.  Deuce reminded you of yourself, though not the whole middle school gangster thing, your mom would kill you if she ever found out that you used to ditch school and joined a gang.  But the whole working hard and it never being enough, nothing ever sticking in your head no matter how many times it was drilled into you, staying up till ungodly hours in the night to get a good grade to impress her. 

    The two of you, yourself and Riddle, head back to his room.  “Did we miss a few chapters?” You tease and Riddle turns to you confused.  “Pardon?” You sigh “Of course you wouldn’t get it…” he still looks confused while opening the door “Guests first” he smiles and you walk in.  “Woooah, aw man, there’s only two beds” you mutter “Is there something wrong?” Riddle inquires. “Nah, just a fanfic reference, iykyk” you shrug and sit down on the twin bed near the wall. “Fanfic?” “Yea, y’know, fanfiction?” You lie down on your back and turn your head to face him. “Fanfiction? Oh, Cater mentioned something about that…” he nods and sits down on his bed “Is your bed comfortable, Mx. Y/N?”. “Its nice, but it would be better if you were here with me” you sigh dramatically.  To which he blushes and sighs in mock annoyance “Y-you’re certainly quick to act like a married couple Mx. Y/N”.  You turn and set your chin on your palm “Call me Y/N, we’re more than a married couple less than lovers correct?” He sighs softly “I suppose that’s a rather accurate description, forgive me for acting incorrectly at all during our time together.  This is the biggest thing that I’ve done without Mother’s permission…besides that one time I got fast food with Cater”.  The teasing look vanishes from your face “Your mom doesn’t let you get fast food??” You gape.  “She considers it extremely unhealthy, saying that fast food is the beginning to a short and poor life.”    You blink and finally say “So…she’s an almond mom?” He looks down “Cater said something like that once…I researched the topic and it isn’t an incorrect description of my mother.  But she’s a good woman! She is a doctor so she knows all about what she is talking about! Mother wouldn’t lie to me…she wouldn’t…”.  You sense the saddening gloom that's starting to settle in the room.  Riddle's mom was a sore subject for him, most of the fandom, (his stans especially) absofuckinglutely hated her guts, you couldn't blame them though, she was a real daughter of a nice lady... “Welp, usually I’d say listen to your parents.  But I have an idea, how about we go to a fast food place for our first date as a couple?  You guys probably have a McDonald’s or something like it here right?”.  He brightens up at your enthusiasm “Are you sure about that? Aren’t first dates usually more classy?”.  You respond smugly “That’s what the tv shows say, but my broke ass says otherwise! Don’t worry pookie, I’ll make our first date the best that you’ve ever seen!”

AN: hiii everyone its me, also random thing but I remember the time I was reading a twst fic on wattpad and there was a comment that I found so goofy and what made it extra memorable for me was that the user of the commenter was theevilfoodeaterbanica or something like that and it made my Evillious Chronicles fangirl heart happy. Anyways hope you all are doing great! (つ≧▽≦)つ⊂(｡･ω･｡⊂)

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Cherry Pie

The team has been in the shit for months on an extended mission. The temporary base you are all living in is downright depressing with the quickly slapped on paint over plywood and the lack of indoor plumbing among other missing luxuries. You decide that a morale boost is in order. Working behind the scenes, you manage to get your hands on some cherries, though they are a bit worse for wear from the extended trip it took to get them to the base. You eagerly turn them into a couple of pies, spending all day carefully pitting cherries, cooking them down into a delicious filling and making a crust from scratch to wrap them in. The smell is absolutely divine after months of eating rations and you set them to cool near a window.

The first sign of the attack is a spray of bullets hitting the building you are in. Luckily, no one is hurt and the men are quick to retaliate, taking up defensive positions. You grab a rifle, but you are not well trained and so you only take the shots you are sure will hit to not waste ammunition. Midway through the firefight, you hear someone swear loudly.

"Ahh, fuck! That's such a shite move, ya knobheads!" Looking over, you frown, wondering just what drew such an exclamation from the normally reserved Ghost. "Fuckers shot the pies up. On purpose. Bastards."

You see red. Not just from the ruined pies, but from your anger at it being done on purpose. Unable to consider things rationally, you suddenly start firing heavily on the enemy's position, making it near impossible for them to easily fire back. You move quickly through the building, keeping them pinned down as much as possible until you can get a clear view of a man shouting orders and out of bullets, you take him out with the only other thing you have, a paring knife stained with cherry juice that you had at your waist. This seems to immediately turn the tide as those shooting at you are suddenly left without a leader, making them easier to pick off by the others.

When all is said and done, you hurry back to the kitchen to survey your ruined pies only to see that everyone else has beaten you there and salvaged as much as possible, leaving you one perfectly sliced piece to enjoy while they eat the mangled mess carefully. They make sure to compliment your hard work, enjoying every bite as if it was the most delicious thing they have ever eaten. You don't know it, but there is also a note added to your file about the dangers of ticking you off that makes Captain Price smirk every time he sees it.

[writingduhh]

Jschlatt || Deck The Halls

Inspired by my pookies love for christmas @lvrj4mie 😭❤️

Gradually, you rouse from your slumber, your ears catching the familiar strains of Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas" echoing throughout the house. A sigh escapes your lips as you reach for your phone on the bedside table, its bold white numbers revealing the unwelcome truth.

"9:00 AM, December 1st," you muttered, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

Your boyfriend, Schlatt, didn't just love Christmas; he absolutely adored it. Without fail, on the first day of December, his Christmas spirit would explode. The entire house would transform into a festive wonderland, with red and green lights, oversized stockings, a beautiful Christmas tree, and festive garlands appearing as if by magic.

Suddenly, a terrible shrieking sound emanated from the kitchen. Was the kettle boiling? Was there an animal in the house? After a moment, you realized it was Schlatt, singing his heart out to the blaring Christmas tunes.

Grabbing one of his oversized hoodies from the floor, you made your way to the kitchen, the music growing louder with each step.

"All I want for Christmas isssss YOUUUUUUU!" He screamed off-key, using a wooden spoon as a microphone.

"J, what are you doing? It's 9 AM on a Saturday," you grumbled, pressing the mute button on the speaker he had set up.

"Did you forget? C'mon, y/n, you can't forget!"

"I know, I know," you chuckled, hugging his shirtless torso from behind.

"Uh... Are those gingerbread men?" you questioned, pointing down to his festive-colored boxers.

"Of course, what else would I be wearing?" he playfully scoffed, holding out the fabric to show you.

"Well, they're great," you said, hugging him once more.

After having breakfast and taking a refreshing shower, it was time to deck the halls.

"Okay, first on the agenda is the tree, of course," he happily declared, pulling out the massive box holding the tree.

With Christmas music filling the air, you set up the tree. You and Schlatt had decided on a faux Christmas tree to avoid the mess and maintenance of a real one. Together, you opened the box and carefully unpacked the various sections. Piece by piece, you assembled the tree, fluffing out each branch to give it a full and lush appearance. Once it was securely in its designated spot, you stepped back to admire your handiwork.

"Perfect! Now, time for decorating!" he exclaimed, pulling out a big box of decorations.

One by one, you pulled out the beautiful ornaments, placing them delicately on the branches. With snow falling gently outside the window, Schlatt humming along to the ambient Christmas music, and the fireplace crackling, you felt completely at peace.

"There, the last ornament," he announced, placing the glass object on a tree branch.

Grinning, you sleepily draped your arms around his torso, resting your head against his shoulder. He responded with a gentle kiss on your forehead, wrapping his arms snugly around your waist.

"It looks beautiful."

"Just like someone I know," he remarked, kissing your forehead again.

Taking in the beautiful scene, you became aware of the increasing challenge of keeping your eyes open. He smiled adoringly at you before suddenly sweeping you off your feet. You let out a surprised laugh as he carried you towards your shared bedroom.

"What're you doing?"

"Taking my baby to bed. You've been up since 9 AM."

"You realize that's a normal wake-up time, right?"

"Shhhh, you're not making sense because you're so tired," he teased, gently setting you on your side of the bed.

He drew back the duvet, creating a cozy space for you to crawl beneath the covers. Once you were settled in, he pulled the covers up to your neck, tucking you in snugly. The softness of the blankets enveloped you like a warm embrace, and you couldn't help but smile at his thoughtfulness.

"Goodnight, sleep well," he cooed, placing a soft kiss on your lips before turning toward the door.

"Wait, where are you going?" you pouted, emerging from your blanket cocoon.

"Oh, I was just going to finish setting up..."

"Can you come to sleep?" you begged, giving him your best puppy eyes.

"How can I say no to that face?" he chuckled, making his way to the opposite side of the bed and crawling under the sheets.

Immediately, you scooted closer, cuddling against his side. Contentedly sighing, he pulled you on top of him, his arms enveloping you in a warm embrace.

The warmth of his embrace and the softness of the bed enveloped you in a cozy cocoon of comfort. His scent, a mixture of his favorite cologne and the faint aroma of fresh pine from the newly decorated Christmas tree, provided an inviting atmosphere. It was the perfect respite from the whirlwind of holiday preparations that had taken over the house.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

From Bright Light

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 5

Series Masterlist             Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

warnings: swearing (as always), very general descriptions of dissociation, Frank is clearly hurting and not handling things well, small descriptions of violence, last fluff chapter before angst

a/n: I am finally a few chapters ahead on both my WIPs! Hopefully I can start posting more regularly this spring/summer. As always, reblogs and comments fuel me!

w/c: 5.3k

Gritting his teeth as a rogue biker almost knocked him to the pavement, Frank ignored the man’s irritated screaming and stalked forward down the block. Despite the early hour of the morning and the lack of activity in the city, it seemed that the disgustingly high temperature had already put everyone in a mood. He certainly wasn’t a fan of the way the heat coated his skin and drew beads of sweat from his pores, soaking his freshly washed shirt all the way through before he even reached the cafe. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, but stopping at your workplace for coffee had become his new normal. And, given his deteriorating mood this week, deviating from his routine was sure to ruin his day.

So he persisted. Yanking his beanie further down on his forehead and shoving his hands into his pockets, he stared straight ahead and soldiered through the remaining few minutes in the heat before clasping his hand around the handle on the glass door, pulling on it hastily—and nearly falling to the ground when the door didn’t budge. The smirking face of your coworker Leo appeared through the tinted glass shortly after.

“Sorry about that,” The kid apologized, shoving the door open for him and stepping aside. “We technically don’t open for another hour.”

Staring at him quizzically, Frank threw a thumb over his shoulder. “Shit, I can go, if ya want. I didn’t—“

“You kidding?” Leo gave him an incredulous look. “The princess would have my head if I turned her prince away. C’mon in. I’m sure she’s expecting you.”

Rolling his shoulders, the marine straightened his spine and set his jaw, expression stuck in an embarrassed grimace. Stepping over the threshold and into the bakery, the air around him seemed to suddenly grow colder, a shiver running down his back. Glancing upwards to find the offending vent, he frowned when his eyes met a stretch of blank ceiling. Your coworker's smug voice brought his eyes back down.

“She's in the kitchen, Pete.” Though the kid wasn't meeting his gaze, Frank had the sneaking suspicion that he was trying not to laugh.

Flushing, he gave a curt nod, stepping around the counter and into the back room. It wasn't his first time past the batwing doors, but the scene felt surprisingly intimate nonetheless. Through the maze of steel tables and rows of ingredients, he found you. You were perched on a stool in the back corner, away from the dingy windows that peeked out front. Your back was turned to him, displaying the lopsided bow cinched around the waist of your dress. Spine hunched, you were gesturing wildly with one of your hands, the other holding a phone to your ear as you spoke in a hushed voice.

As the kitchen doors whooshed shut, you looked up, eyes wide like a fawn's. Giving him a tiny wave and a strained smile, you spoke with a bit more clarity.

“I gotta go, mom. I'll see you soon. Ok, bye.” Making a big show of hanging up the phone and slipping it into your apron pocket, your smile widened, finally meeting your eyes as you exhaled forcefully. Standing from the stool, you traipsed over to him, skirt swishing around your calves.

“Hey Frankie! Sorry about that,” You wrinkled your nose at the mention of the call. Finally reaching him, you wound your arms around his waist. While he normally melted into your warmth, his nerves were still on edge after the interaction with Leo—his body stiffly returning the embrace but maintaining a small, emotional distance for his own sanity.

Withdrawing from him, you frowned, brows curving inward with confusion. “Is something wrong?”

Blinking as he tried to form a coherent thought from the symphony of anxieties screeching in his brain, he shook his head. “Nah. All good.”

Narrowing your eyes, you moved away skeptically, headed for the front of the shop. “Alrighty then. Let me start a pot of coffee and—”

“D'you usually open early for me?” He blurted out, face itching as it was overtaken by his furious blush.

Your expression remained bemused as you shrugged. “Depends on when you get here, I guess. Why?“

”You shoulda told me.“ He murmured, heart pounding as your face began to fall. What he meant to say was that he didn't mean to put you out. That he had no idea why he'd been blessed with someone who was sweet enough to open her shop an hour early every day for weeks just to make him a cup of coffee. That he felt like an idiot for thinking that you were just especially slow in the mornings and not even considering that he'd been receiving special treatment. That he felt awful for interrupting your morning preparations for almost a month now because he was a sorry sack of shit who couldn't handle being restless and alone in his own apartment, so he decided to bother you every morning instead.

But all that his exhausted and anxiety-ridden mind could come up with were those four words. And his throat was so tight with emotion that they sounded gruff and angry.

Watching you swallow roughly and avert your eyes, he ached to apologize, to correct himself, to wipe that horrible expression of hurt from your beautiful face—but he was cemented in place, awaiting your response.

”I'm sorry, Frank. I saw you out there weeks ago while I was baking and I let you in without thinking. After that, I just never corrected you. I didn't want you to feel bad. I'm sorry.“

As if you'd flipped a switch, the life returned to his body, his posture sagging as you apologized. The pained expression you wore shattered his cold heart, driving him to finally explain himself.  

”Shit, no, don't be sorry, sunshine.“ He cursed, striding over to you and pulling you into a second embrace, a real one this time.

Sighing into his chest, your arms tightened instinctively around his waist as he kneaded a circle into your back with his palm. ”Are you mad?“

Resting his nose in your hair, his heart sank at the fear in your tone. ”Course not, honey. Next time I’m early, tell me to fuck off, ok?“

A few giggles burst out of you and you squeezed your arms around him one more time before pulling away. ”Not a chance, tough guy. Did you still want that coffee?”

“I mean, if it’s bein’ offered,” He shrugged, the barest hint of a smirk gracing his lips as you grinned and dashed out of the kitchen.

Grabbing a stool and yanking it across the floor, he set it next to the station you appeared to be working at. Straddling the metal seat, he studied the array of items strewn across the bench, trying to decide what you'd been working on before he arrived. Before he could decipher what half of the ingredients were, you'd returned with his coffee and a latte of your own.

Handing him the paper cup, your eyes crinkled as you smiled softly. “Here you are, sir. Your disgusting, unedited, hot black coffee.”

“Ya know, I don't think I'd get this much crap from the cafe down the street.” He scoffed, taking a sip of the scalding drink to hide his smile. “Maybe I oughta start goin' there instead.”

“That's always an option,” You shrugged, handing him a danish wrapped in thin brown paper. “But then you'd have to jump through those same hoops again to get free breakfast. Court the baristas, and all that. Whole lotta effort for someone who's already a fan favorite at another bakery.”

“Fan favorite, huh?” He tilted his head at you, poorly hiding his amusement with a raised brow.

“What can I say, Frankie? You've really grown on us. Even though you have shit taste in coffee.” You grimaced dramatically, eyes dancing with humor.

A laugh tumbled from his lips mindlessly. He shook his head before raising the danish. “Thank you. For the free breakfast.”

You responded with a clumsy curtsy. “Why, of course, sweetheart.”

“So,” Frank said around a mouthful of the danish, “What are you workin’ on?”

Beaming at him, you jumped up and down gleefully. “Eek! I’m so glad you asked. So—“ 

As you launched into an energetic dialogue about the myriad of new ingredients you were hoping to work with this week, Frank felt at ease. Somehow, your presence always seemed to have that effect, pushing away his negative thoughts and anxieties until he relaxed fully. You brought out a side of him that he’d locked away for years. Your voice was a soothing melody, washing over his head like ripples on a beach. The soldier inside him–that was constantly on high alert–was content turning away, resting while you were there to watch his back. Sighing deeply, he felt a smile creep across his face as you kneaded dough in front of him, narrating the process and answering his questions as they came. 

But, of course, the divine bubble you’d created for him was destined to pop. 

“Hey, lovebirds. We've got a line.” Striding right past you to the walk-in, your other coworker–Stacy–looked a bit exasperated with Frank’s presence, prompting him to blush sheepishly.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to distract ya, sunshine. I’ll head out.” Standing inelegantly, and nearly bowling his stool over in the process, Frank avoided your gaze as he started to exit. 

“Oh no you don’t,” You scoffed, snatching him around the waist and burying your head against his chest. “You almost forgot your goodbye hug.”

Cradling your waist in his rough hands, he returned the embrace. “We couldn’t have that, could we?”

“Absolutely not.” You giggled, releasing him from your hold. “Have a wonderful day, Frankie. We still on for dinner tomorrow?”

“Sure, if you ain’t found better company.” He smirked at your resulting eye roll. 

“There’s no such thing, sweetheart. I’ll see you then. Take care of yourself please.”

“You too, sunshine.” He gave a limp wave, ducking his head as he braved the rush of customers out front. 

Curling his fingers tighter into their respective fists, Frank inhaled deeply as his fellow New Yorkers sped by him. The mass of bodies writhed along the city streets, blurring together as each person invaded his space, leaving as quickly as they came. 

Frank pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep from retching. The amount of time spent in close proximity to strangers, even in the short walk to the restaurant, was enough to make him physically nauseous. His skin itched, the sensation flaring as each individual nearly barreled into him. 

The pinpricks of other people’s gazes dotted along his cheeks and neck, and he refrained from looking over his shoulder again to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Nostrils flaring he rounded the corner and marched down the sidewalk. His eyes were glued to the red awning attached to his destination. Just a hundred more yards. Eighty. Fifty. 

As he closed in on the building, his breathing was rapid, his muscles tense with adrenaline. He gave a stiff nod to the man holding the door and slid past him, into the overly air-conditioned restaurant. 

You’d warned him the place was uppity. A friend of a friend was the head chef, or something, and you wanted to support them during their grand opening. 

He wasn’t in the mood to be well-mannered, or consciously think about what utensil he needed to use at any given moment. And he sure as shit wasn’t in the mood to be surrounded by drunk, wealthy people complaining about the quality of their meals that cost more than a month of rent in Queens. But you’d invited him. So he came. 

He wasn’t dressed well enough. That much was made obvious by the look he got from the hostess as he stepped through the door. His dark jacket and worn jeans stood out like neon orange on a hunting trip. As he began stammering out his intentions to the uptight brunette, he heard your voice. 

“Hey Frankie!” Smiling as always, you were quite dolled up. You were wearing an ankle-length dress that he’d never seen before, and it accentuated your figure in a way he was incapable of processing in his given state. Your lips were coated in a shade of gloss darker than you normally wore, your hair styled and jewelry immaculately placed. He let his eyes roam fully over you before catching himself. 

“Shit. Sorry, honey. Hi.” He greeted, lamely. “You, uh, you look…good. Real good, sunshine.” 

Giggling, you looked at the ground bashfully. “Thank you, sweetheart. I wasn’t quite sure what to wear, to be honest.” 

“Me either.” He huffed, looking down at his clothes with a frown. 

“Well, I think you look very handsome, Frank.” You chuckled, beaming at him. 

“I’m under-dressed, I—“

“Hey,” You rested a hand on his shoulder, halting his words. “I think you’re perfectly dressed, ok? Don’t worry.” 

Narrowing your eyes slightly, you studied his face. He could feel you reading him, flipping through his metaphorical pages as you searched for the answer to your question. 

“Frankie, are you sure you want to have dinner here? I know you had a long day, and—“

Frank scratched the back of his neck. Long was an understatement.  The universe, ever determined to undermine the progress he made, had apparently decided he'd had enough peace for the month. Sleep, which had finally been coming easier for once in his sorry life, was once again escaping him. Night after night he jolted awake as the sounds of his wife's screams echoed in his ears.

Usually, his nightmares included his children too. Their disfigured bodies riddled with gore, haunting him well into his waking hours. Recently, his dreams consisted of Maria and Maria alone. Her manicured nails clawing at his chest as she choked on her own blood. Screaming for him, and sometimes at him. Because he didn't save her. He could never save her.

The disturbing imagery had compelled him to stay out of the house more often than usual, taking out his building rage on the cement and drywall of his team's current construction site. He was averaging a 12 hour work day in the hope that wearing himself out physically would force his mind to tumble into a dreamless sleep. It had yet to do anything more than accost his aging body with pain, add to the tab he was racking up at the dog boarding place currently watching Max, and make him almost late for his dinner with you.

Brushing off your concern with a shrug, he shifted his weight from foot to foot. ”'M alright, sunshine. Too hungry to turn back now.“

You smiled at his joke, leaving the space between you open for him to follow as you turned to move.

Petrified by the various stimuli his brain was trying to process, he didn’t tread after you. Giving him a once over as you stepped back, you gently pried one of his hands from his pockets, tugging him out of the doorway and towards a table in the back corner.

It was away from the windows and within sight of two exits, settling his uneasy nerves a bit. The restaurant was filling up as the minutes ticked by, but the tables were spaced far enough apart that Frank could continue to breathe. As he focused on your hand in his, and the way your eyes shone in the flickering candlelight, he could feel his stiff muscles slackening. Your soft thumb drew a line across his knuckles as you slid into the chair across from him. 

“Say the word and we’ll bail.” Your expression was adorably serious, bottom lip protruding with concern. 

“I ain’t bailin’, honey.” Frank forced a chuckle, biting back a sigh as you took his other hand across the table. “Did ya have a good day?”

Face brightening, you nodded as your smile wormed its way back onto your face. Launching into a story about a squirrel you’d saved from a busy street that morning, Frank found himself being lulled into a state of half-consciousness. Internally, his soldier instincts and logic battled fiercely, apparently too viciously for his brain to handle. After moving a mile a minute for hours, his mind had short-circuited when presented with safety. 

He wanted to lean into the comfort you always provided. 

To indulge in the stillness and feel content. 

To stop. Fucking. Fighting. 

To find a new home.

“Frankie, you ok?” Your soft question brought him back to reality.

Eyes flicking to meet yours, he tried to speak, the words catching in his tight throat. Coughing around the emotion clogging his esophagus, he nodded. “Fine. Why?”

Tilting your head, you raised one eyebrow at him. “You just seem...” You waved a hand around his face as if that would clear everything up.

“Sorry, sunshine.”

“Don't be. Did you want me to be quiet, or..?”

Shaking his head frantically, he squeezed his hand around your fingers. “No. Keep goin', honey. I like listenin' to ya.”

Biting your bottom lip, you looked at the table with a pleased hum. “Ok, well, you know our neighbor in 213B? Ms. Kaminzki?”

Nodding, he could feel his focus drifting once again, though you seemed more comfortable with the idea the second time around. You were too perceptive. It scared him sometimes, if he was being honest. He hadn't had a connection this deep since...

Before he could finish that thought, a waiter approached to ask for your order. Grateful to let you take the reins as he regained control over his frazzled mind, he watched with an amused fondness as you bonded with the newcomer over a love of root vegetables. 

Following your server’s arrival, dinner passed without incident–though you and Frank agreed that the prices were far too high for this to become a regular spot. Despite the fact that it was far from the best meal he’d ever eaten, he was happy to spend time with you.

Which is why he let you clasp your delicate fingers around his broad hand as you walked back to your apartment building. You were uncharacteristically quiet as the two of you strolled down the sidewalk. Given his actions over the last couple of hours, he wasn't in any position to scold you for being distant, but the behavior worried him slightly.

Letting his eyes drift sideways to study your face, the corner of his lips twitched upwards at your focused expression. Your face was contorted into a small scowl, pinched in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever seen before. A small, but distinctly annoyed, huff parted your lips as he watched. Clearly something was on your mind.

Bumping his hip against yours, he stifled a smile. “Ya plottin' my murder over there or somethin'?”

Nearly tripping as your concentration broke, you looked up at him sheepishly as he pulled you into his side to steady you. “Sorry, Frankie.”

“It's a'right, sunshine. Why's the cat got your tongue?”

Sighing, you stared at the cracked pavement beneath your feet, placing each step carefully so you wouldn't stumble again. “It's nothing, Frankie.”

“Fuck, you're startin' to sound like me, honey. That ain't good.” Frank frowned as you chuckled sadly. Your usual bright giggles sounded pensive and hollow.

“Just thinking.” You shrugged.

Internally groaning, he tried again. “Work with me here, darlin'. Thinkin' about what?”

Your lips quirked with a smile, lashes fluttering as you looked up at him. “Family stuff. I don't...I don't wanna bug you with it.”

“Would ya tell me if I swore I wanted to hear it?”

A glimmer of sass shone through with your smirk. “Maybe.”

Throwing a hand up to show the distance you still had to walk, he looked at you with a raised brow. “We got time. Hit me with it.”

“Fine. But know that it's stupid.” You pointed a finger at him with a stern look, inspiring a smile of his own.

Exhaling, you chewed on your lower lip between words. “Um, so I haven't told you much about my family. But they're, er...complicated. To say the least.”

Frank listened intently, squeezing your hand encouragingly when you hesitated.

“My mom and I still keep in contact but she's...difficult. She makes me kind of miserable, to be honest. But she's all I have left, so I put up with it. Unfortunately, that means she visits from time to time and I always sort of…” You trailed off, eyes becoming misty as your words failed.

“Sorta what, sunshine?” Frank prompted softly.

“Shut down, I guess?” You looked up at him, lips pursed. “Not to burden you with the details she just...she makes it really hard to not fall back into bad habits. And she's planning on coming up in a few weeks, so I was just lost in thought about it.” You gave a halfhearted chuckle.

“When's she comin'?”

“Three weeks from tomorrow.“ You whined, shaking your head. “It'll be fine, I just need to prepare for it, you know?”

“Would it help if you had company?”

Frank's question caught you off guard. “What?”

“I was wonderin' if it would help, if I was there I mean.”

Shaking your head furiously, you frowned. “Oh I can't ask you to do that, Frank–”

“Last I checked, you weren't askin'.” Frank snorted. “If ya don't want me there…”

“No Frank,” You turned to look at him earnestly. “That would be amazing! I just...you would do that for me?”

Nodding slowly, he brought his free hand up to cup your cheek. “In a heartbeat, sunshine.”

Giggling, you shook your head gravely. “What would I do without you?”

The rest of the walk back to your apartments was spent joking about things you could buy for Frank and slowly start placing around his house. You reached the front door to your building as he was finally talking you out of replacing all of his so-called “boring” glasses with vulgar mugs.

“Look, Frankie! This one is perfect for you!” You squealed, turning around your phone to reveal a poorly photoshopped white mug with the words “Moody Bitch” written on it.

“Fuck off.” Frank grumbled, strutting into the building ahead of you, not hiding his smile as you cackled gleefully.

You scrambled up the stairs after him. “Wait! I found a better one!”

“Nope. I'm done lookin' at your shitty mugs.” Fishing his keys out of his pocket, he unlatched the door, giving Max a scratch as the dog poked his head out in greeting.

“Hi, Maxie!” You cooed, your voice igniting Max's overactive tail. Crouching in front of him, you happily let him kiss your face as Frank slipped his shoes off.

“Ok bud, let her up.” Frank scolded gently as the massive canine began to tip you over in his eagerness to kiss every inch of you.

Standing with too much difficulty, you giggled as you finally managed to drag yourself upright. “Yikes. Pretend you didn't see that.”

“See what?” Frank asked, smirking.

“Thanks for a good night, Frankie. Oh, wait before we part ways for the evening...” You trailed off, shoving open your own door and dashing inside.

Still standing in his own doorway, Frank chuckled to himself as he heard you banging around in your kitchen. “Ya know, I was hoping to go to bed at some point.” He called down the hallway.

“One more second!” You called back.

Pretending to have fallen asleep against the doorframe, Frank's eyes were closed when your footsteps tread back down the hall.

“Ha ha. Very funny.” You deadpanned. “If you don't want this dessert, I can absolutely eat it myself.”

“Dessert?” Frank opened his eyes enthusiastically, accepting the plate you handed him.

The slice of whatever you'd handed him was thick and smelled of cinnamon. Its bread-like texture and swirl of filling looked painfully familiar...

“You promised to try the babka I made! So, here you go.”

Dread pooled in his stomach as his shaky hand grasped the fork you handed him. The enticing smell of the cake suddenly turned to something sinister, drawing acid up in this throat.

“I, uh...I what?” He stammered out, staring at the plate like the pastry had pulled a gun on him.

”The babka I made for Ms. Kaminzki? I mentioned it at dinner and you said you would try it for me?“ Your eyes were shining with anticipation, your tone edged with an anxiety that caused his own heart rate to spike.

His mouth remained shut, drying out as if he'd eaten a bowlful of sand. Spearing the slice of cake, he nodded as he took a small bite.

The blend of spices was something he'd tasted many times before, and he felt like someone had smashed a bottle over his head. Adrenaline surged through every vein, his hands trembling viciously. Bile was clawing up his esophagus, chills suddenly wracking his body.

“It’s great, sweetheart.” He muttered, still staring at the bread.

“Yah?” You asked eagerly, dress swirling around your ankles as you bounced on the balls of your feet.

“Mmmhmm, I love it.” Prying his eyes away from the ceramic plate he held, he glanced at you. Your face seemed to flicker, briefly—another familiar face forming a mask over your wide eyes and small smile. As his nausea suddenly became unbearable, he opened his door. ”I gotta go.“

“Oh, ok! Have a good night, Frank!” You called. He gave a limp wave.

Stepping backwards into his apartment, he locked the door behind him, chucked the pastry across his counter, and bolted to the bathroom.

Using your thumb to steady the piece of tape, you pressed it against the serrated edge of the dispenser to tear off a piece. Carefully draping the adhesive side onto the brown paper, you folded the final edge of the parchment over the babka. You couldn’t help but smile at the beautifully wrapped loaf.

All things considered, you’d been having a great week. The bakery had seen steady traffic, one of your favorite market booths had given all their regulars a huge discount on seasonal fruit, and your adorable elderly neighbor had been so thrilled about the babka you made her that she’d paid you to make one for her knitting club. Speaking of… A quick glance at the clock was enough to hurry you out the door to prevent being late.

Cradling the weighted parcel to your chest, you rushed out the door and down the steps—thanking your lucky stars that you didn’t break an ankle in your haste to make the delivery.

Ms. Kaminzki was an adorable older woman who lived on the floor below yours. You had offered to help bring her groceries in after she’d gotten hip surgery a few months ago, and the woman had been downright motherly to you ever since. She was constantly bringing you home cooked meals and complimenting your outfits, it was about time you made her something in return.

Of course, she’d tried to pay you for the first one and refused to accept a second for free—but there was only so much you could do to combat her sweet stubbornness. Which meant that this time, unfortunately, you needed to let her press a crumpled 20 dollar bill into your hand as you passed her the babka.

Accepting her cheek kisses and endless praise for your “baking talents” more readily than the cash, you ushered her into a taxi so she'd make it to her meeting on time. With the promise to visit her for dinner this week, you waved her off—nearly smacking someone behind you in the process.

“Oh fuck, I'm so—” Tilting your head as you took in the hooded figure in front of you, your brows shot up. “Frank?”

The man looked rough, to put it simply. Deep purple bruises sat under his puffy eyes, his posture hunched and face swollen around a split lip. He was avoiding your gaze, and he visibly flinched as you stepped into his space.

Straightening your fingers, you displayed your palms in a gesture of harmlessness. Though he was still curled in on himself, he met your gaze as you rested a hand on his bicep. “Sweetheart, what happened? Are you alright?”

Frank nodded curtly, recoiling from your light touch as he yanked open the door to your building. “Fine, sunshine.”

Huffing as he slipped into his old habits, you trailed after him.

“Thought we were past the whole 'pretending to be fine' shtick but, ok.” You muttered, nearly tripping over your skirt as you chased him up the stairs.

“I ain't 'pretendin' to be fine'. I am fine.” Frank snapped, not even sparing a glance at you.

“Sure,” You nodded, unbothered by his bad attitude. “Seems like it.”

Scoffing, Frank whirled around on the landing. His glower softened as he registered your furrowed brow. Deflating like a helium balloon, he flushed pink. “Sorry, sunshine. I'm just...havin' a shit day.”

“You sure it hasn't been a shit week?” You asked with narrowed eyes, hand coming up to cup his stubbled cheek. “This cut doesn't look fresh.”

Frank usually leaned into your touch as if it was the only thing keeping him together. While others made you feel self-conscious about your love of physical contact, your grumpy neighbor seemed to be as starved for it as you were.

Today, however, he remained rigid in your hold. His eyes were hollow shells, not holding the range of emotions you'd come to expect from his beautiful irises. Wherever his mind was, you were confident that it was not here with you.

Withdrawing your hand, you nodded your head toward the final flight of stairs. “C'mon, sweetheart. Up we go.”

His stare remained blank, but he followed your direction, marching up the stairs as if he was ready to drop—which, you realized, he probably was.

As he fumbled with his keys, you ambled towards your own apartment, trying not to look like you were prepared to catch him if he collapsed. As he tumbled over the threshold into his apartment, you caught a glimpse of the trash accumulating on his coffee table and counters. If you weren't worried before...

Eyes narrowing as he noticed you staring into his apartment, he gave a small wave. “Have a good night, sunshine.”

Though his words were sweet as always, his tone was flat and you weren't quite sure whether he meant what he said.

“You too, Frankie.” Before he could slip inside his apartment, you pressed a quick peck to his cheek. As your lips made contact with his scruff, one of his rough hands wrapped around the curve of your waist, squeezing gently. Smiling as you retreated, you let his hand linger on you for as long as he needed.

“I'm right next door if you need me, ok?” You promised gravely.

Finally dropping his hand, he nodded, a spark of the warmth you usually found in his expression finally igniting behind his eyes. Shoving lightly at him with an exaggerated frown, you pointed a finger at his chest.

“Go get some rest, Castle. You need it.”

He chuckled softly, finally disappearing behind the chipped white door.

Pondering for a moment, you could practically feel the cartoon light bulb pop out of your skull as the epiphany struck you. Flexing your hands in anticipation, you rushed into your apartment and beelined for your freshly washed mixing bowls.

Thanks for reading!! Please comment/reblog!

Taglist: @cheshirecat484 @xxdrixx @smhnxdiii @mattmurdocksstarlight @danzer8705 @mjsvinyl @softieekayy

[moments-on-film]

Carmy doesn’t know who he is yet

I’ve been thinking about this a lot and I’ve come to the conclusion that Carmen doesn’t really know who he is. He doesn’t know himself enough to know what actually makes him happy. This impacts how he views himself, how he sees himself in relation to other people, and it also helps explain why his life feels so empty, why he has no answer when asked questions, including “what is fun for you?”

In the group session in S2E3, Carmy shares,

“I think when I was a kid, anything that would give me any sort of excitement or amusement or enjoyment, it always got kind of f-d.”

What I took from this is that he used to have things that he was passionate and excited about, maybe even things he found fun, made him laugh, brought him joy, and they got ruined, by his family. He likely didn’t start out in life with the outlook he has now. Life, and the abuse and trauma he has survived taught him to repress his true feelings, not express himself, and not communicate his needs and desires, for fear of what would happen if he did.

We know that Carmy is an artist, in more ways than one. Carmy is an artist through the food he creates. In S1E8, he describes how he felt that by cooking he could “communicate through creativity”, which must have been an incredible self discovery for him. Unfortunately, it appears that is the only creative discovery about himself he has been able to act on. His latent artistic talents include a connection to clothing and the ability to draw beautiful, realistic sketches of food and people (from what we have been shown so far). I believe art was Carmy’s first, true passion but it has been beaten out of him.

In S2E6, in the first scene between him and his mom, Carmy is helping in the kitchen and his mother brings up Steven. She says to Carmy, “Is cousin Michelle’s friend Steven, is he gay? Steven, is he gay? I mean he seems kind of gay. You know, he’s arty.”

This raised a HUGE red flag for me upon first viewing. Donna is equating being arty with being gay, and with negative connotations. Now at this point in S2, we don’t yet know that Carmy used to draw Claire, or that he drew the framed sketch that he gives to Michael as a Christmas present of their dream restaurant, The Bear, (we find out both later in this episode), or that he drew the chaos menu he shows to Sydney in S2E8. All we know so far is that he used to draw (pants) in high school. In S2E5, Carmy tells Claire that after meeting who we now know was Thom Browne at his restaurant in New York, he said he felt like he “wanted to start drawing again.” Claire says, “the dream returned”, and Carmy looks down and looks so sad.

Maybe his initial dream really was to be an artist, but his mom, brother, and Richie all “giving him a hard time” about drawing, and probably being made fun of ruined it for him, so he repressed that side of himself, tamped it down, and denied what he was actually passionate about. What could have been a great source of joy and happiness is now associated with suppression and shame.

Carmy didn’t go to college. He didn’t get to try new things, take classes and discover new passions, meet new people, or expose himself to possibilities that life could offer. He didn’t have friends or girlfriends growing up. The only people (historically) he’s ever been around are family, who see him a certain way, and his various staff, which he manages and leads. Claire sees him a certain way because she knows his past and understands his (past) behavior. She tells him “you’re really shy”, not you were really shy or you used to be shy—no, she is speaking about his past in the present tense. All of this boxes Carmy in, behaviorally.

Carmy tells Claire he always wanted to have friends, so wistfully. At the party Claire takes him to in S2E5, he gets mistaken for someone else, Logan Fernello, but doesn’t correct the situation. He escapes into this alter ego and literally pretends to be someone else so he can have a conversation with a group of would be friends. The group of guys he’s talking to don’t know who he is and he uses this as an opportunity to reinvent himself. This scene really threw me the first time I saw it, not just because he’s telling a story to a rapt audience, but because in 13 episodes, he has never been this animated. It’s as if he’s channeling the best parts of what he loved about Michael in this moment. He’s never really allowed himself to make friends with new people and explore and expand certain aspects of his personality. Is he shy is this scene? Absolutely not. The moment ends when Claire comes over and steers him out of the situation, which made me think—How is Carmy supposed to explore new parts of himself around people from his past who have already made up their minds about who he is and how he’s supposed to behave?

Instead of going to college, where, among other things, he would have had new experiences and met new people, Carmy threw himself into work. He saw colleagues as competition and worked himself to the bone. He’s been a chef in Malibu, California, Napa Valley, California, Copenhagen, Denmark, and New York, New York, but Carmy never talks about his experiences in these locations unless it’s tied to work. Did he ever explore in these cities and locations and allow himself to have a good time?

Carmy’s empty apartment is also indicative of his suppressed emotions and personality. We know he has a great eye and talent for creativity and beauty, yet his apartment reflects none of this. There’s barely anything on the walls, apart from a few things in his room. There is no personality to be found. Everything is his apartment is to serve a function, but there is nothing sentimental, nostalgic, creative or reflective of his life experiences or travels on display.

In S2E1, Carmy has a moment alone in his empty apartment. It’s a quiet moment, but one of extreme unease. He simply does not know how to relax, how to just be. He plays with his pocket knife and opens his phone. This moment is notable because he essentially has no apps on his phone apart from the preloaded ones. No entertainment, no games, nothing personal. It’s as devoid of his personality as his apartment.

Carmy tells his sister in S1E6 that he feels trapped because he can’t describe how he’s feeling. I believe Carmy senses and feels things deeply, but he has a very hard time putting his emotions into words. I think this is why Carmy has such a talent for giving such sweet and thoughtful gifts. He listens, he pays attention, and he really considers what people need and want. A gift can say so much, and express deep emotion, without the need for words.

Carmy knows his knife will give Tina confidence at culinary school, and so, in the subtlest way possible, he gifts it to her. Sending Richie to stage with chef Terry was life changing. Carmy must have put a lot of thought into what Richie needs, and he gave him that experience from his heart. Even in S1E3, the small act of Carmy bringing Sydney a plate of food to eat because he thought she might be hungry, spoke volumes. His gift to her of the chef coat was a declaration of love because not only did he listen to her when she expressed interest in his, he customized it for her perfectly, down to the smallest detail.

When Carmy tells Sydney, “you’re not alone”, as he gives her this beautiful gift, there is an ocean of emotion, care, thought, consideration, respect, and yes, love, in those three words. It’s as if he can sense and feel exactly what her deepest fear is and he comforts her by essentially letting her know, “I see you, please don’t worry. You’re safe with me. I’ll watch over you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Even if I wasn’t before, I’m here for you now and I’m not leaving.” He might have to tamp down his feelings, needs and desires, and not put them into words, but he does not want Sydney to experience that same type of pain. This makes his “say more, please” line to get her to speak all the more sweet, tender, and poignant.

From what we have seen so far, Carmy has never been nurtured and never really been loved, unconditionally. To discover who you are, what moves, motivates, excites and enamours you, you have to have experiences, you have to be able to leap into the unknown. I don’t think he’s ever felt safe enough emotionally to explore and express parts of himself with freedom to discover who he is and what actually makes him happy.

I think so many of Carmy’s self identity struggles and mental health issues arise from the abuse he’s had to survive and the trauma he’s endured. It has made him shut down, close off, repress and stifle his urges, emotions, and passions. I also must add that what brings me hope for him is how he is able to express himself with honestly, vulnerability, care and tenderness with the new people in his life, but most importantly, with Sydney. She is not connected to his past, and I think together they could have a beautiful future. That future might not always be in the kitchen, but that is ok.

I really hope Carmy is on a journey of self discovery and into who he is and what brings him joy, peace and happiness. I hope he gets the professional help he needs and is able to untangle his suppressed, confused, internalized emotions, put words to feelings, and finally live life to the fullest. Most importantly, I hope he allows himself the grace to know himself, express himself, and truly love himself. When he does, I know his love for others will take on a whole new dimension of creativity and beauty, just like his art.

©️moments-on-film 2023