#him and Natalie together? back to back? with smiles and no kind eyes is too powerful

[kiaraspeaks]

As a Seth Milchick apologist (because he's not ruining my life personally, sorry Dylan😔) my baby cant raise his voice. He stood too close to Mark for 15 seconds and said a swear and he was in the stall with Helly the next day. Him? Throw a mug? They're sending him to JAIL not exports. If he yells?? The Board will personally remove him. So now he is going to become psychologically terrifying. Thanks a lot. He's going to be 50x hotter now.

[ranikyani]

You Don’t Know My Name

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Reader MDNI.

Summary: Terry comes into your diner every. single. day. He don't even know what he's doing to you. Or does he?

Word count: 6.4k. This is a one shot with no planned sequel.

A/N: Got this idea from that tiktok from the mufasa premiere... (yall know which one I'm talking about)

You enter the diner at 6 am sharp, the rising sun hasn’t even started lighting the morning sky just yet. As always, you start the coffee, unlock the back door for the delivery drivers, and set off to work. In the back of your mind you hear your best friend cussing you for having the doors unlocked knowing you’ll be alone for at least 20 minutes before your coworkers start showing up. But in a busy city like this, the yns are still sleep, and anyone awake at this hour is too focused on their own hustle to rob you. 

The night crew, per usual, has done a shitty job closing. You wipe down tables, and do another sweep of the floor, finding balled up napkins from last night’s patrons wedged along the floor where the metal trim of the booths meets the piano stick tile on the floor. Grabbing the mop, you make a mental note to ask your manager Natalie, Who closed last night?

One by one, your coworkers filter in as you continue to prep and refill the condiment stations. Marcus and Sydney stroll in exactly 5 minutes apart just as they did yesterday, and the day before that. They think no one else in the morning crew can tell they’re together, but you can, and they’re doing a terrible job hiding it. You just don’t care enough to say anything and blow their spot. Then comes Natalie, looking like she just rolled out of bed but still managing to somewhat look put together. You both exchange a quick hello and she starts wiping down the counters picking up where you left off. Alicia is the last to arrive, much later than the rest, breezing through the door with her signature braids underneath her hair net. 

“Hey, you’re early today,” she teases as if you aren’t always the first to arrive, tossing her jean jacket on the employee coat rack. 

“Had to get the place ready for all my customers,” you reply with a smirk, knowing full well it’s just you, her, and one other waiter for the early shift. Every time the other servers call themselves “helping” you set up booths before opening, your customers end up complaining about something missing or out of place, it’s just easier to do it yourself.  

You finish making sure the tables look good and walk the perimeter of the diner to ensure everything is set. At 7 o’clock on the dot, just as you’re putting the finishing touches on the napkin dispensers, you hear the soft jingle of the doorbell. 

It’s him. 

Terry Richmond. 

Alicia leans over the counter to you, her voice low and amused, “Here comes your man” 

A Man. In every sense of the word. 

As a regular, Terry knows the drill. The hostess doesn’t bother seating him or giving him the standard greeting of offering today’s specials, she just smiles as he heads straight for your section like he does every morning. The other waiters learned long ago, don’t even try it. He’s yours, unspoken amongst you but understood by all. 

The air thickens as soon as the door closes behind him, like everyone in the diner is holding their breath. You can hear the other women stifle their sighs, trying not to moan at the sight of him. Everyone in the room freezes for a moment, drawn to him without even meaning to. Even Marcus who doesn’t pay anything but his latest kitchen experiment any mind, glances up for a moment. You’ve seen Terry a hundred times at this point, but each time feels like the first. He moves through the dining area with the kind of confidence that just fills a space without trying. His eyes sweep over the room, scanning each face and offering a light smile and the occasional ‘hello’, but when they land on you. They stay there. 

You can feel the weight of his gaze as it meets yours and unlike every other woman in the diner gawking, frozen in place while admiring him, you try to keep busy offering a small smile in return. You try to focus on what you were doing, but you can’t help it. Terry Richmond has that effect. The man commands attention.  

He gives you a small nod and takes his usual spot in your section peeling his tan carhartt detroit jacket off of his broad shoulders before sitting down. He sits down, newspaper in hand, breaking eye contact and giving you just enough time to gather your composure. He doesn’t need to ask for a menu, he’s been here enough to know exactly what he wants. You approach his table, trying to keep your cool and softly smack down a stack of napkins you know he’ll need once his meal arrives.

“Good morning, the usual?” You ask while pouring hot black coffee from the steel carafe into a mug you’ve sat down for him as well.

“Yes Ma’am” he responds eagerly, looking up briefly from the morning paper to flash you that beautiful smile. It’s striking how his serious, focused expression as he reads today’s current events, contracts with the warm smile he gives when flashing every tooth in his mouth. It’s too captivating, that smile should come with a fucking warning label. 

You make your way back to the kitchen to give the staff Terry’s order ticket being mindful of each step you take in your chef crocs, just in case he’s watching. You don’t want him to catch you slipping, literally, the floor behind the counter gets dangerous. His order is simple, a classic diner breakfast, 2 scrambled eggs, no cheese, double turkey bacon instead of sausage, and a side of well-done breakfast potatoes with extra bell peppers and onions. You try not to think too much about the man in your booth, but he’s hard to ignore, the way he looks at you with that quiet intensity in his eyes, the way his muscles flex with a motion as simple as flipping to the next page of the paper, the way his thick thighs and ass fill out the cargo pants he always chooses to wear, the way he always sits with his legs wide open to accommodate the size of that dic-

No. 

Shaking it off, you turn your attention to the other customers, who’ve started tickling in to grab a little something before they head off to work as well. You check on them, make small talk, and go around to refill drinks well before they’re half way empty, anything to keep yourself distracted. The kitchen hums behind you, and the familiar buzz of the diner settles your nerves, for a moment. 

Ding. 

You jump slightly as the bell above the kitchen door rings, signaling Terry’s order is ready. You grab the plate quickly, making sure everything is just right before you head back to his booth carrying his plate and the coffee filled carafe with quick and practiced motion. You gently sit his plate down and refill his coffee silently, no need for small talk, just get it done and move on. 

As usual, his debit card is sitting face down on the table, the numbers hidden from other guests passing by, just waiting for you to slip it into your apron pocket. You’ll charge him and bring his receipt as soon as he’s done eating, making sure he’s out the door and on his way to work. It’s an effective system the two of you came up with to keep things moving, so he never ends up late, even if the register backs up. 

You walk back behind the counter, but your gaze lingers on Terry as he digs into his meal. There’s something almost mesmerizing about the way he eats, the way his jaw flexes with each chew. Jesus. Its too much and its too early. 

His strong hands grip the fork, it looks so tiny in comparison to his paws, and your mind wanders, imagining those hands on you. How he could hurt you but he’d never do that unless you said please.  

His lips part with each bite, just enough to make you wonder what those lips would feel like pressed against yours, or what they’d taste like covered in your essence if he’d just eat you out, ask you out. 

Then, as he’s taking a bite of his potatoes a small drop of ketchup builds on the corner of his mouth. Instinctually, his tongue flicks out swiftly to lick it clean. The motion is so smooth, so effortless, it takes everything in you not to gasp. He’s a serious eater, you can just tell you’ve always had a knack for being able to smell a munch from a mile away. 

As if he’s a mind reader, just as you take a step forward, tempted to let him know you’d like to find out what that mouth do, he looks up from his plate toward you forcing you to pull it together. Immediately losing the courage your trance bestowed that had you about to head his way, you leap forward in to pour more coffee from your carafe in Mr. Johnson’s cup in an attempt to look busy.

Does he even know my name? You wonder

He occasionally glances out the window, constantly assessing new customers entering the building through the side ramp. Every subtle shift of his muscles beneath the dark shirt he’s wearing is a reminder of just how well put together he is. 

Damn. 

The way he carries himself, the strength in every movement, he’s dangerous, and you want to be in danger. 

You can’t stop thinking about it, and you lick your lips imagining how he’d feel under your hands as you rode him until the cows came home, or until he came, at least twice.  

You can almost feel the heat of his skin, as if you’re sitting with him right now, the weight of him pressing you into the corner of the booth, his breath hot against your neck as he leans in… 

Your breath hitches, and you dart to the other end of the counter taking newfound interest in the salt shakers to break the spell before your thoughts get too filthy. You’re supposed to be working. 

Flustered, and seeing as though you just filled them this morning, you turn toward the kitchen, the heat in your cheeks evidence of the unholy fantasies you’re trying to suppress fighting to break free.  

As Terry’s plate nears empty you head to the machine and punch in the total with practiced ease. $15.87 same as always and swipe his card into the machine. You grab a tray and a pen, ready to return to the booth with his card and receipt, but your chest feels tight. The thoughts you’ve been thinking swirling around in your head.

Ask him out, your inner voice tells you. 

You make your way closer with your heart beating a little faster than usual. This isn’t the first time you’ve caught yourself fantasizing about him, but this time feels different. You’ve been making excuses every time he comes in to avoid this moment, but today? You can’t ignore the pull of your attraction to him any longer. You’ve had enough. 

“Uh… Mr. Richmond?” you say, your voice coming out softer than intended. 

You can’t stop your hands from nervously fiddling with the edge of his card, and you try your best to focus. You can do this. 

He looks up at you, those beautiful green eyes meeting yours, but he notices your hands fidgeting and assumes there’s a problem with his payment. He shifts his weight to his right hip and leans forward to reach into his back pocket and pull out his wallet. 

“I keep my card locked up,” he explains casually, his deep voice steady, “just to stay safe. Had someone try to run a $800 charge at a Home Depot in Texas last week. I ordered a new card but I’m still a little annoyed about it.” He chuckles, running a hand forward over his waves “I swore I unlocked it, though.”

You smile at his explanation, but you're distracted by the way his perfectly manicured and never dirty hands move with precision regardless of what he’s doing. And wonder how they would feel inside of you. 

He pulls a crispy $50 bill from his wallet, his fingers causing the paper to crumple under his touch, and hands it to you with a small smirk. 

“I’ve got money, I swear” he states with a playful glance. 

“Oh, it went through Mr. Richmond,” you say, placing his money back on the table. 

“Here’s your receipt, just sign at the bottom. The extra copy is for you, sir.”

His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than necessary, as if weighing something in his mind. 

"I would've stayed here with you and washed all the dishes, I could’ve taken out the trash too to work off my meal, but then I’d definitely be late for my first patrol. I’m working a double shift today."

You swallow hard, feeling heat creep up your neck as you think of this man carrying all the discarded boxes out back. Shirtless… Sweaty…

Focus! You tell yourself.  Don’t back out now. 

“Shame. I would have definitely found something for you to do” you blurt before you can stop yourself, the words just slipped out.

That is not what you were planning to say. 

His brow furrows slightly, a confused look flickering across his face. “What was that?” he asks

“Oh… Nothing…I just meant…” you pause to gather your thoughts but before you can find your words, the sound of raised voices outside rip through the calm atmosphere inside the diner.

You glance out the window to see two familiar regulars, both younger men, standing on the ramp outside of the window arguing. It’s hard to make out their muffled voices and determine what the fight is about but it’s clear they’re not backing down. 

“Excuse me,” he says, heading for the door.

Without a second thought, Terry stands up, his broad shoulders shifting under his shirt as he moves toward the door. His body seems to take up more space with each step, and the yelling outside grows louder once he cracks open the glass door to walk outside.

From where you're standing, you can see him step between the two men, his movements smooth, deliberate, like he’s done this a hundred times before. There’s a quiet authority in the way he stands, clasping his hands in front with his feet shoulder length apart, something you’ve only ever seen in action movies, where the hero arrives to save the day. His eyes narrow with a cold, unspoken warning, something raw and powerful that says, Fuck around and find out.

He mutters something to the men, just loud enough for them to hear. You can’t make out the words, but the effect is instant and they stumble back, silenced, cowed by the sheer force of his presence.

Still by the booth, you watch, captivated, as he commands the scene and sends them on their way with nothing more than a steady gaze and his natural poise. His stance is solid, unwavering. And you? You're breathless, caught in the magnetic pull of him, every inch of him exudes power and complete control. 

When Terry returns to the booth, the energy you had mustered to ask him out seems to dissipate in the air. Does he not realize what he’s doing to you? He doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t mind as long as you keep making sure his order is always correct. With a softened expression he leans down on the table reaching for the pen you’d sat down in the tray earlier and pulls out a business card from his wallet. The name Terry Richmond is printed neatly in bold professional lettering but it’s the scribble he writes on the back that catches your breath. 

His hand moves fluidly as he writes, the thick veins that travel up his arm twitching as his finger flex and grip your pen. Oh, what you would do to be a pin right now. Terry writes his personal number on the card and then adds his signature to the restaurant receipt before placing your pen neatly back in the tray. 

“Just in case,” he says, his voice low and steady with a half smile that makes your pussy flutter; again. 

His hand brushes yours and the touch alone tightens every muscle in your core. You glance at the card and stand frozen for a moment just staring up at him towering over you, your heart skittering in your chest. You can barely breathe as you look into his eyes, those green depths making you feel like you’re drowning. 

“See you tomorrow” he says and then pulls his jacket on in a swift motion. You watch him walk toward the door, the familiar ding of the bell echoing in his wake. And just like that, he's gone.

For a second longer, you stand there, card still in hand, too stunned to move but the buzz of the kitchen quickly brings you back. Almost mechanically you go to clear his table. As you reach for his empty plate your eye catches the $50 bill folded neatly next to the receipt and the handwritten note he’s added to the bottom. 

Something extra. For always taking care of me :) 

“He obviously wants you. Just call him.” Alicia says later, breezing past you with an order of steak and eggs in hand.

“I am not calling him,” you hiss, dodging the swinging kitchen door before it smacks you.

“Well, that’s what I would do,” she shoots back, tucking a bottle of A1 steak sauce under her arm. 

“I wouldn’t even know what to say…” You trail off thinking of all the ways you could embarrass yourself if he did answer the phone. Or even worse if he didn’t and you left a cringy voicemail. Evidence of your lust and desire.

“Then text him!” she calls over her shoulder heading to her table.

You want to argue, but she has a point. Still, the thought of texting him sends a wave of anxiety through you. What do you even say? What if he doesn’t respond? 

The card burns a hole in your apron pocket, daring you to pull it out and make a move. 

Your finger hovers over the send button, and with a deep breath, you tap it before you can second-guess yourself.

You: 9:12 AM Hey this is y/n, the waiter from your favorite diner 😊

Delivered. 

Now all you can do is wait, you say to yourself, but your phone buzzes back as you go to slide it back into your apron.

Terry: 9:13 AM Is everything okay? You: 9:13 AM Yes! All good here. I just wanted to text you so you'd have my number Terry: 9:14 AM Received.

“Received!? That’s all he said?” you groan, dragging the word out as you swipe a hand across your forehead in a futile attempt to calm your nerves. 

“That’s it. Imma just leave it there and back out now so that way I don’t get my feelings hurt” you tell Alicia, reciting the exchange to her as she refills coffee at the counter. 

“No, y/n… This is when you lean in, full throttle!” she shouts causing a few patrons to look your way. 

Her sudden outburst scares one of your regulars, a janitor who works at the school across the street. 

“Sorry Mr. Johnson,” she mutters, grabbing a rag to wipe up the splash of coffee spilled on the counter when he jumped. 

You sigh, shaking your head at her antics, but her words echo in your mind. Lean in. Full throttle. 

You: 9:18 AM Hi Terry, I know girls don’t usually do this, but I wanted to take a chance anyway. You’ve been coming into the restaurant everyday, and I just had to let you know, I think you’re really handsome. I’d love to grab coffee or a drink with you sometime, away from the diner. I promise I look different outside of my uniform. I know you’re very busy but what do you say?

Terry: 9:19 AM What time do you get off? You: 9:20 AM 12 pm right before the lunch rush Terry: 9:20 AM Ok, You free tonight?

You hesitate for a second, caught off guard, but in a good way. 

You: 9:21 AM Yes. I thought you were working a double? Terry: 9:21 AM I’ll leave early. Be ready at 6. Can I pick you up from home, or do you want me to text you details where to meet? You: 9:22 AM I wasn’t expecting you to say yes so quickly... but I’m glad you did. I’ll be ready at 6. You can pick me up, here's my address: Terry: 9:22 AM Ok, It's a date. Terry: 9:23 AM I think you look beautiful in your uniform by the way.

After work, you stumble into your apartment, exhausted but jittery with anticipation. A date. With Terry Richmond. The thought makes your heart race. The clock reads 2:15.

Plenty of time.

You set an alarm for 4 and flop onto the couch, hoping a quick nap will energize you and calm your nerves.

When the alarm blares, you jolt awake, heart pounding with excitement and a new resolve. Tonight, you’re going for what you want.

You stretch, still groggy but fueled by anticipation, and drag yourself to the bathroom. The hot shower is a necessary reset, the steam curling around you as you let the water cascade over your skin. You take your time lathering your body with a vanilla-scented cleanser that leaves your skin soft and warm.

After toweling off, you reach for your favorite shea body butter, scooping a generous amount into your palms. The rich, creamy texture melts into your skin as you rub it in, taking extra time to smooth it over your arms, legs, and collarbone. You breathe it in, letting it ground you, remind you to enjoy every moment your afternoon.

You slip into a pair of fitted jeans that hug your ass just right, pairing them with your favorite oversized sweater. Comfortable, effortless, but still intentional. A swipe of gloss, a touch of mascara, and by the time you finish your makeup, the clock reads 5:45.

Outside, you hear the unmistakable rumble of Terry’s truck. Your pulse jumps. He’s early. Of course, he is. Everything about that man screams prompt. But instead of coming right up he waits outside and 10 minutes later, your phone buzzes.

Terry: 5:55 PM I'm outside. Coming up now.

At exactly 6:00 PM, you doorbell rings, the chime echoing through your quiet apartment. You take a deep breath, smoothing your hands over your outfit one last time before opening the door with a playful, sing song

"Hiiii, Terryyyyy."

He stands there, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and that easy, confident smile on his face that always makes your stomach flutter.

"Hey, baby," he says, his voice warm and smooth.

"Oh? I'm 'baby' already?" you tease, raising an eyebrow as you take the flowers from him, their sweet floral scent fills the air and you step aside to let him in.

"Good, because I actually have a confession to make," you say, your voice steady but your hands trembling slightly as you set the bouquet on the counter. The words feel heavy on your tongue, but you push through, determined to say what you've been holding back for weeks.

“Go on,” he replies, his voice low and steady, instantly grounding you as he takes a seat at one of your barstools. His eyes never leave yours, and you can feel the weight of his gaze, like he’s already reading between the lines.

“I don’t actually want to go out,” you state matter-of-factly, cool as a cucumber on the outside. But on the inside? Your heart feels as if it’s about to explode, each beat thundering in your ears. 

His brow quirks slightly, but his expression remains calm, unreadable. 

“What do you want to do then?” he asks, his tone innocent, but you know better. 

The way his eyes darken, the slight tilt of his head… he’s already figured it out. 

He’s just waiting for you to say it.

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. “I just... I really like you. I admire the way you carry yourself. Not a lot of guys move like they would actually even know what to do with a woman. I don’t even date because it just doesn’t seem worth the time, you know? But I don’t want you to think I’m…”

“You grown. We grown,” he says simply, his calm reassurance melting your nerves. His voice is like a balm, soothing the edges of your anxiety. 

“Say it,” he cuts in, his voice soft but firm, like he’s coaxing the truth out of you. “Tell me what you want.”

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, the room feels too small, the air too thick. But then you meet his gaze, and something in his eyes gives you the courage to speak.

“I want you to fuck me,” you say, your voice steady but soft, the words hanging in the air between you like a challenge.

Terry cocks his head slightly, a mischievous smile playing at his lips.

“Come on, baby. You can do better than that. Say it again.”

Your cheeks flush, but you don’t look away.

“I want you to fuck me,” you repeat, louder and more sure this time, your voice carrying a confidence you didn’t know you had.

“There she is,” he breathes out, his tone is warm and laced with immense pride. The way he says it sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel a rush of heat pooling low in your stomach. And the longer you hold his gaze without cowering away the more his grin widens. He breaks eye contact first, pulling out his phone and handing it to you.

“This is my MyChart,” he says, his voice casual, like this is the most natural thing in the world.

You blink in surprise but unlock your own phone, pulling up your most recent results as well. Terry glances up at you from behind your screen, a teasing glint in his eye.

“If this was your plan, why’d you even bother getting dressed, mama?”

You smirk, locking his phone and setting it on the counter.

“Just in case you said no.”

“I’d never say no to you, y/n,” he says, his voice low and certain. The space between you feels electric, charged with an energy that makes your skin tingle.

You grab his hand, lacing your fingers together “Come with me,” you say softly, tugging on his hand gently.

Terry doesn't need to be told twice. He stands and squeezes your hand, letting you take the lead as you guide him toward your bedroom. The air between you is heated with anticipation, every step heightening the tension. Once inside, you turn to face him, and before you can second guess yourself, you're pulled into the kiss you've been waiting on for weeks. A kiss that make your knees weak and as his hands slide down to your waist pulling you closer you wrap yours around his waist to hold him tightly.

As your lips part briefly, you tug at the hem of his shirt, your breath coming faster.

"Take this off," you say, your voice edged with urgency.

Terry grins, his green eyes smoldering as he yanks the shirt over his head and tosses it aside. Your gaze rakes over his chest and broad shoulders, and you can’t help but touch him, your palms trailing over the hard lines of his muscles. 

“You're unreal,” you murmur, almost to yourself.

"Is that right?” he teases, his voice rough with desire as his hands slide under your sweater.

“Don't get a big head now,” you quip, but the words dissolve into a sharp inhale as his hands move over your bare skin.

“Too late for that,” he says, lifting your sweater off in one swift motion. The way his eyes darken as they take you in sends a shiver down your spine.

He hovers over you, his lips trailing along your jaw and down your neck, each kiss igniting your skin. You arch into him, your fingers exploring the expanse of his back, pulling him closer, deeper.

When you tug at his belt, your fingers bold and eager, Terry lets out a deep, approving sound that vibrates against your lips.

“You’re not wasting any time, huh?” he murmurs, his eyes locking with yours.

“No. I should've told you how I felt the first day you came in,” you reply breathlessly, your confidence building with every touch.

He grins, his hands slipping under your thighs as he lifts you effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist, and he carries you to the bed, his lips never leaving yours. The way he lays you down, slow and deliberate, sends a thrill through you.

“Terry,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your skin, his words a promise.

He kisses his way down your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reaches the waistband of your pants, he looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire. 

“You so pretty, baby,” he says, before hooking his fingers into the fabric and pulling them down slowly, savoring every inch of skin he reveals. Once you’re completely bare, he takes a moment to just look at you, his gaze roaming over your body like he’s memorizing every curve. 

“Perfect,” he murmurs, and the way he says it makes your heart skip a beat.

"I'm proud of you for speaking up," he says looking up at you from in between your legs with direct eye contact.

Then he lowers his head, his breath warm against your inner thigh as he places a soft kiss there. You shiver, your fingers tangling in the sheets as he moves closer, his lips brushing against your most sensitive spot.

“Terry,” you gasp, your back arching off the bed as he licks a slow, deliberate stripe up your center. He hums in approval, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

He takes his time, savoring you like you’re the most exquisite thing he’s ever tasted in his life. His tongue circles your clit, teasing and tormenting, before he sucks gently, drawing a moan from deep within you. His hands grip the back of your thighs, holding you open as he devours you, each lick and flick of his tongue driving you closer to the edge.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against your lower lips, his voice rough with desire. “Hmmm, I could do this all night.”

You whimper, your hips lifting off the bed as he slides a finger inside you, curling it just right. 

“Terry, please,” you beg, your voice breaking as the pleasure builds, threatening to overwhelm you.

He adds another finger, and now you know exactly what his fingers feel like inside you. His pace is steady and relentless as he continues to lick and suck at your clit. The combination of his mouth and fingers is too much, your body arches off the bed and your thighs clamp around his head instinctively, as the sensation of cumming on Terry's lips leaves you trembling and breathless.

Terry doesn’t stop, drawing out your orgasm until you’re gasping for breath, your hands clutching at the sheets. Only then does he pull back, looking up at you with a satisfied smile. 

“You’re so beautiful when you cum for me,” he says, his voice filled with awe.

"This is better than I imagined," you whisper , staring at the ceiling, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath

"Been imagining me, huh?" he teases, his voice dripping with amusement.

You’re too spent to respond, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Terry kisses his way back up your body, his lips soft and gentle against your skin. When he reaches your lips, he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You ready for me?” he asks, his voice low and rough, and you nod, your body already craving more.

"Say it out loud y/n.. Say 'Yes'"

"Yes"

He positions himself between your legs, his eyes locked on yours as he pushes inside you slowly, giving you time to adjust. The stretch is delicious, and you moan while nails digging into his back as he fills you completely.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he groans, resting his forehead against yours as he starts to move, his thrusts slow and deep.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as you move together, your bodies perfectly in sync. The room fills with the sounds of your moans and his low steady groans, the air thick with the scent of sweat and desire.

“I wish you could see how pretty you look right now,” he says, his voice soft but filled with awe. 

Terry’s rhythm is relentless, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding you as you move together, your bodies perfectly in sync. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mingling with your breathless moans and his deep voice. Reaching down, he uses his thumb to circle your clit, and you can’t help but tighten your walls around him.

"That's it, baby" he murmurs against your neck "Just like that. Let me hear you"

You moan, throwing your head back deeper into the pillows as your hands grip his shoulders. His muscles flex under your fingertips.

"Terry," you cry out, your voice breaking once again as pleasure surges through you. 

"I'm right here," he coos, coaching you on, "You're doing so good baby."

His words are meant to ground you and keep you present but your mind won't stop racing.

The quiet ones are always the freakiest, you think, biting your lip to stop yourself from laughing at your own thoughts. You’ve gotten everything you wanted, and it’s better than you ever imagined. Definitely didn’t see this on your bingo card when you opened the restaurant this morning. Terry is constantly talking in your ear as he thrust, but you’ve been paying him only half your attention. Everything feels too good… his voice, rich, velvety, and impossible deep. Wrapping around you like a magic spell pulling you deeper into the moment. Is he the voodoo man?

"Focus, baby" he says, slowing his movements and forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark with desire but there's something else there too, something soft 

"I need you here with me. Can you do that?"

You nod, then immediately correct yourself and respond "Yes," verbally before he can say anything else. 

If he keeps talking to me like this, you think to yourself, I’m getting pregnant. 

“Turn over,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire, and you don’t hesitate. You roll onto your stomach, your heart pounding as you feel him shift behind you. His hands slide up your back, tracing the curve of your spine before gripping your hips again. He pulls you up onto your knees, and you brace yourself wrapping your hands around the pillows at the head of your bed for support.

When he enters you again it’s from behind where the angle his tip can reach is deeper and more intense. You gasp, your head falling forward as pleasure ripples through you. 

“That’s it, baby,” he says, his voice a low growl in your ear. “Take it... You feel so good.”

“Yesssss,” you moan, matching his rhythm and rocking against him, the sensation overwhelming.

“Use me, baby. You’ve been working so hard, you deserve this,” he says, his voice a low rumble that sends a jolt of heat through you.

His hands roam all over your body, one hand glides up your side, before sliding around to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple in a way that makes you gasp. The other hand trails down your back, his touch firm yet reverent, before finally tangling in your hair. His fingers twist gently into your braids and he tugs just enough to guide you upright. Your back presses against his chest, his warmth enveloping you as his other hand slides around your waist, holding you steady. His fingers find your clit and circle it with just the right amount of pressure.

“Terry… I … Oh God,” you stammer, your words dissolving into a moan as he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, faster.

“You close?” he asks, his voice strained but steady, and you nod frantically, unable to form any coherent words.

"I've got you," he murmurs. His voice is steady and grounding even as his thrust grow more urgent. His hand in your hair tightens slightly, his grip possessive yet tender.

“Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

His words push you over the edge, and you cum with a moan loud enough that you're certain to get you a noise complaint in the mail. Your body swivering as waves of pleasure crash over you. Terry groans, his rhythm faltering as his grip in your hair loosens, letting go to tighten his hold on your hips instead. His breath comes in ragged bursts, his body trembling with the effort to hold on just a little longer. Without his hold to keep you upright, you collapse forward onto the bed, your arms barely catching you as your face presses into the sheets. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your body still shaking from the aftershocks of your climax. But even as you try to catch your breath, you’re not done. You throw your ass back against him, meeting his thrusts with what little strength you have left, helping him chase his own release. You can tell he's moments away from spilling inside you.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Terry moans deeply, his breath warm against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine causing you to deepen your arch for him and lift your ass higher in the air. “Y/N…” “Y/NNNNN!” Alicia’s voice snaps through the fog of your daydream. She drags your name out, her tone harsh and sharp, clearly trying to catch your attention since you obviously didn’t hear her the first 5 times she called you. “Bitch! I know you hear me talking to you!” she whispers harshly, her words slicing through the fantasy. You blink rapidly, disoriented, heart still pounding from the scene you’d just imagined. The sound of Alicia’s voice has brought you crashing back to reality, and now you’re frantically scrambling.  “Hello! Your customer is asking for you! Stop daydreaming and go see what that fine ass man wants! What’s wrong with you?” “Shit,” you mutter under your breath, snapping into action. You race to the kitchen, heart still racing as you grab Terry’s to-go order, this morning he told you he was working a double and needed to order out. Your hands are a little shaky, but you focus on making his drink, piling on the extras, whipped cream, a generous drizzle of mocha on top of the foam, everything you know will make him smile. Usually, your boss would make you charge extra for the toppings, but today? It’s all on the house. He deserves it. You rush back to Terry’s table, fully aware that the man runs on a tight schedule. You can’t afford to keep him waiting. “Here you go, Mr. Richmond,” you say, your voice quick but sincere, your words stumbling over themselves with a hint of nervous energy. “Sorry about the wait. I threw in a hot chocolate for you, and your receipt is in the bag. Again, really sorry about that. Have a great day!” Terry looks up from the newspaper with that easy, effortless grin of his. He doesn’t seem phased by the wait at all. “Eh, no worries,” he responds coolly, waving off your apology with a smile  “You can call me Terry… What’s your name again?” Your heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice saying your name, and you quickly recover, offering a smile as you introduce yourself.

Extra A/N: Still recovering from the Flu so pls excuse any errors! This story takes place in a universe where niggas don't drink hot chocolate with catfish dinners at lunch time. Can you tell I was catching up on the bear and abbott today? I ended up inserting characters in here lol. On to the recruit & night agent season two ✌🏾. Now that I finally got this idea out of my head I can start my reading back up and try to finish SF Chapter III.

Ok bye 🏃🏾‍♀️💨

Tags: @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @thevelvetwhispers @persethegawd

[bookshelf-dust]

gentle fingers, gentler boy

carmen berzatto x fem!hairdresser!reader

gif by @hotch-girl

word count: 3,589

warnings: swearing, joking mentions of arson, one donna mention, i don’t think anything else??

synopsis: carmy needs a haircut—desperately. or so natalie tells him. she sends him to you, and it’s safe to say carmy never would’ve expected a trim would turn into the best date he’s ever had in his life.

a/n: hello, my loves! don’t even ask my why this fic has taken me so long to write because i couldn’t tell you. but i do imagine it has something to do with the fact that i have the attention span of a goldfish these days. anyhow, i wrote this as a kind of predecessor to this fic, because something about carmy and his hairdresser gf is so special to me. let me know what you think!! happy reading <33

————

“You really do need a haircut, Bear.”

Sugar leans up against the office door frame. Her younger brother is hunched over the desk, an Igor incarnate, flipping through a pile of papers Cicero left for him. 

Richie’s voice booms throughout the kitchen. “I been tellin’ him that, Sug! It needs a wash, too. He’s startin’ to look like Jack…Jack…” He snaps his fingers, searching for a name. “The psycho asshole from The Shining!”

“Jack Torrence,” Marcus chirps.

“Jack Torrence!” Richie claps, making Sugar roll her eyes. She moves closer to Carmen, leaning against the corner of the desk. She crosses her arms. 

“I told you, Carm, you can go see my girl. She’s never done me wrong.” 

That small, gentle smile she has grows on her lips. Natalie gently pushes her brother’s shoulder. “And hey, she stopped me from getting bangs again a few weeks ago.”

Richie’s hands fly upward, pressing together in a prayer pose. “Thank fuck. Bangs were never your look, babe.”

“Shut up, Richie!” Sugar and Carmen’s voices ring out simultaneously, as if they’d rehearsed for this very moment of synchronization.

Carmy’s clogs drag against the tile floor as he braces his palms against the desktop and pushes himself backwards. He scrubs his face with his hands, leaving it tinged red when he finally relents.

He looks up at his sister, a firm wrinkle formed between her brows. Carmen huffs.

“What did you say her name was?” Carmy asks, eyes darting to the clock, searching for the time only to realize no one ever fixed the damn thing. “Hey, Richie! Can you get some fuckin’ batteries in here?”

Sugar’s eyes squeeze shut at the volume Carm’s voice has just reached. But nevertheless, she pinches her nose and says your name. 

“She’s like, fifteen minutes down the road. She went to school for it, she respects shy people, and I promise–she’s not gonna cut your ear off.”

Richie rounds the corner at that exact moment, a pile of double A’s shoved in his pocket. He pulls the analog clock off the wall and pries open the back panel. “Oh, you mean like that time Mikey snipped the tip of his ear clean–”

“Oh my god, enough, Richard!” Sugar’s hands fly around in front of her face. Unfortunately it only encourages Richie further, laughing to himself as he snaps four batteries into place. He’s still laughing—clapping his hands together because he’s so tickled—when he walks back toward the front of the house. 

Carmen’s fist covers his mouth. He’s tempted to laugh himself, but he at least knows better by now. Natalie sighs loud enough for the people across the street to hear. 

“Look, Carm. I’ll even make the appointment for you if that would help, but it’s gotta happen. You look like shit.”

Carmy snorts, standing up from the wonky office chair. “Thanks, Nat.”

Sugar’s phone is already in her hand. 

“So that’s a yes? What time would be best? Actually, I’ll just tell you when you’re going. Settled.”

————

“You getting off, Leigh?”

Your coworker ties her hair up in an artfully messy bun. “Yeah, babe. I took a half day because it’s date night tonight.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, shimmying her way across the floor so she can plant a sweet kiss on your cheek.

“Your mom got the kids?” You ask, laughing to yourself as you rinse the leftover conditioner from your sink. 

Leigh claps her hands. “All weekend, girl!” 

You toss your gloves in the trash, letting her hug you and bounce up and down in glee. She deserves this. She hasn’t gotten a night out with her husband in months, their three-year-old twins keeping them more than occupied.

“I hope you have fun tonight. Drink something with Irish cream in it for me, will you?” 

Leigh’s hands pat your cheeks gently. “Oh, you know I will. Just wish you were getting out there too.”

You wave her away, and she’s quick to hold up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Is Natalie’s brother still coming in today?”

Your eyes dart to the clock over her head. “Should be here in like, five minutes.”

The doorbell chimes. 

Both yours and Leigh’s heads snap in that direction. 

“Or…now.”

“Oh, fucking Christ.”

Your eyes flick back to each other immediately, having spoken at the exact same time. Leigh is not gonna let your outburst go. 

There’s already a devilish grin growing across her face. “You think he’s hot, don’t you?”

You dart around her. “No. Those words never left my mouth.”

She catches you by the belt loop. “You’re right, I believe your exact words were ‘Oh fucking Christ, he could bend me over right here.’” Leigh’s laughter bubbles up and you fear she might keel over. 

“That is an exaggeration,” you huff. 

Leigh slings her worn out, bright red purse over her shoulder. “Bet you were thinking it though.” She risks a glance over her shoulder. “You’re not wrong though. His arms are huge. And you better go help him before we get a bad Yelp review.”

You start to wave her away. “Yeah, alright.” You follow her towards the front desk. “Have fun tonight,” you shout, “and remember to make sure you have meds for tomorrow’s hangover.”

She fake gasps, pausing just beside where Carmen is standing. “Me? Hungover? Never.” Leigh lowers her sunglasses just slightly and directs her next few words at the man in front of her. “She’ll take real good care of you, youngest Berzatto.”

The doorbell chimes as Leigh makes her way out to her beat up Mustang, leaving you and Carmy alone out front. 

He laughs awkwardly, shuffling towards the front counter to meet you.

“Sorry about her,” you say. “She’s full of it. Anyway, Carmen, right? Natalie told me you’d try and come by today.”

Carmy’s cheeks burn with embarrassment from being put on the spot. But also because you’re so…pretty. He manages to pull together a few coherent words. 

“She really said try?” he asks, the barest of smiles gracing his lips.

You cross your arms and walk over to your station. “No. It was more of ‘He’ll be there at 4:30 tomorrow or else I’m going to burn down The Bear and keep the insurance money for myself.’”

Carmen scratches at his curls. “Yeah, that I believe.”

You gently pat the back of your leather chair. “You can sit whenever you’re ready. I realize I never really introduced myself.” You say your name, and even if it’s a name Carm has heard a hundred times before, it somehow sounds hypnotizing falling off your lips. 

The leather backing is cold through Carmy’s t-shirt. He hopes the shiver that moves down his spine when you thread your fingers through his hair passes off as the coinciding goosebumps. 

“So, what are we thinking today, Carmen?”

His big blue eyes blink at you through the mirror. “Carmy,” he says.

“Hm?” you hum, running a wide-toothed comb carefully through his curls so that nothing snags. 

“You don’t have to call me Carmen. Makes me feel like I’m in trouble.” A low laugh tumbles over his lips. “Carmy is fine.”

You smile at him. “Okay, Carmy. What would you like me to do with your hair today? Buzz cut? Mohawk?” You walk around to face him head on. “Extensions?”

You notice how nervously he plays with his hands. But you get it. You’re hoping to make him as comfortable as you can, and not just for that good Google review.

Carmy runs a hand over his mouth, hiding the sweet smile that’s growing there. The crinkles by his eyes give it away. You’re so fucking charming he can’t stand it. 

He clears his throat. “I was thinking just a trim? It’s kinda long over my eyes, and sometimes it’s good to see things.” You giggle. 

Good god, how’s he gonna get through this?

“Maybe a little shorter on the sides, too.”

“Like a mullet?” You quip.

He snorts. “Nah, not a full mullet. Maybe where it’s barely noticeable that it’s shorter there? I’m also shit at taking care of it, so if you could help with that…”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth. Carmy has to clear his throat, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. “How ‘bout this. I’ll take you to the sink and give it a wash, and then we’ll trim it, and I can have you help me style it so it’s easier when you’re at home?”

Carmy nods. “Yeah, that’d be great, thank you.” 

Your hand slides across the back of his shoulders as you move away and towards the back room full of head-sized basins. “Come on then, Mr. Berzatto. Let’s wash that pretty head of yours.”

————

“That feels so good,” Carmen says, the words leaving his mouth before he has a moment to think them over. “Wait—is that a weird thing to say?”

You laugh from your place behind him. “No, not at all. That’s why I keep my nails a little longer, because my clients always tell me this is the best part.” Your hands are covered in a lavender-scented shampoo, your fingertips massaging the foam into his scalp. “A good head scratch does wonders for the soul.”

You watch Carmy’s lips lift at the corners. His eyes are closed, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he dozed off. You’re always happy to keep a conversation going with clients, but the silence is just as well.

The sounds of foils getting folded in place by your coworker out front, the air conditioner, the radio—it’s all oddly soothing. The radio station Leigh always sets it on has the oddest selection of music choices for one given channel. Not that you mind that either. 

You rinse Carmen’s hair out and apply conditioner to the mids and ends of his curls. You blindly grab a comb, muscle memory putting it in your grasp in seconds.

Carmy swears he’s gonna knock out. He’s trying about as hard as he did in school when he knew he should be paying attention to whatever math lesson but couldn’t keep his eyes open. And when your words reach his ears, he thinks you’ve just read his mind. Sensed the sleep pricking at his eyelids. 

“You do have really nice hair, Carmy. Anyone else in your family have curls?”

You watch the way his brows knit together. “I think my mom? You’d never know it though. She’s straightened it every day since I was a teenager, like even when we weren’t leaving the house.”

You focus on your final rinse of his hair, allowing him to continue. “When I was a kid though, if she showered before bed and I needed her, her hair would be all wet and curly. That’s the only time I saw it like that.”

Carmy sits up when you wrap a thin towel around his head, holding it secure as he follows you back to your station. 

“Leigh, the woman leaving when you came in? She has lots of clients like that. A lot of people weren’t taught how to take care of their curly hair.”

“Is that a hint?” Carmen quips. It makes you snort. 

“Just a gentle one.”

Carmy watches while you cut his hair. Every once in a while your tongue will poke out, or you’ll wiggle your hips to a song on the radio. When you’re almost finished, what Carmen thinks is a Madonna song comes on. 

You start humming, and Carmy knows he’s done for. Richie would call him whipped. He probably will tomorrow morning, just by reading Carm’s face. 

“Out of the sky, I close my eyes…heaven help me.”

Carmy lets out a little laugh because you’re doing this little dance as you sift through his curls. You hear it, and it only encourages you more. 

“Big Madonna fan?” he asks, his hand rubbing over his mouth to hide the boyish grin there. The tattoo on his hand catches your eye. 

“She’s good for the soul.”

You crouch in front of him, rummaging through a cabinet for he doesn’t know what. “Your tattoos are pretty, by the way,” you say. It takes him by surprise. 

“Oh. Thanks.”

You emerge with two bottles. “Do people not usually compliment them?” You spray his hair down with cool water, getting it to the stage of damp you need for the products to work. 

Carmy laughs lowly. Maybe with a little hint of embarrassment. “Nah, they usually ask me what the hell they are or if I was drunk when I got ‘em.”

“Were you?”

He meets your playful gaze. “Only for a few.” Your smile is downright gleeful. 

“M’kay, Carm. Let me give you the rundown.” He straightens and you get a glimpse of the chef he left at The Bear to visit you today. “So this is a leave-in conditioner. After you shower, you put just a little of this in your hands—like this—and kinda run it through your hair all over. Just so it’s in there well.”

You demonstrate, and for the first time, Carmy finally understands how people can look at him and question his ability to cook so seamlessly. That’s the way you do hair. Like it’s as easy as breathing for you. 

“And this is a gel. It’s super lightweight, so it won’t feel gross or anything, and it’s not expensive either. You wanna use a little more of this, but not by much. You can do the same sort of thing, because your hair takes shape really easily since it’s not damaged any. And once that’s distributed, I want you to scrunch it some, just to get any excess product, but also to help any curls that need encouragement.”

You bite your lip because Carmy is nodding along, giving you his complete attention and it’s fucking adorable. 

“And if there’s any curls by your face or anything, you can use your fingers to define them so they look how you want. You think you can do all that?”

Carmy laughs. “Not a chance.” Then you’re both laughing, and it feels so comfortable anyone would think you’d known each other for years. 

“It takes practice. I’m gonna give you these to take home and use.” Your hand disappears in your back pocket for just a moment. “But if you want to put your number in my phone, I can always send you instructions if you need help…”

Carmy pauses. Freezes, even. You look at him nervously, afraid that maybe your ability to read the room has evaporated. Luckily, he proves you wrong. 

“Wow. That was smooth.”

You exhale and laugh into the back of your hand. “I’m never that smooth, I don’t know how I managed that,” you chuckle. Carmy’s fingers fly over your keyboard. 

“Thank you for today, really. I usually avoid the hairdresser at all costs.”

“Sugar did tell me that,” you grin. 

“M-maybe I could make you dinner or something, for putting up with me…?”

Your face warms. “I’d like that, yeah.”

Carmy blinks. His phone goes off where you’ve shot him a text with just your name and a smiley face. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

He rubs his hands together. “Okay, cool. Alright, yeah. What do you like?”

“I wouldn’t say no to pasta. Pasta is good in all forms.”

————

“You can tell me if you hate it. I won’t be offended.”

“I think you might have a nervous breakdown though, and you’re too pretty for that.”

Carmy blushes, shaking his head at you. 

“What?” you laugh. “It’s true.” Your voice has a sing-song lilt to it. Over the past few weeks you’ve gotten to know Carmy a bit better. He’s been busy though, so it’s taken longer than expected to have dinner together. 

He made up for it by providing you with pasta and cheesecake for dessert. He’s wearing this thick sweater, your eyes locking on his forearms where he’s rolled up the sleeves. 

Sugar was so excited when you texted her after his hair appointment. 

Natalie B: How’d it go? Was he a total pain in the ass?

You: it went well! got him all sorted out. he offered me dinner as a thank you (after he paid, of course). would that weird you out??

Natalie B: OMG NO!! He’s got such a giant stick up his ass, maybe your charm pulled it out! Go have fun. Leigh was telling me you hadn’t been on a date in forever last time I was in anyhow.

You: brb blocking both of you shitheads ♥️

You hadn’t expected a haircut to lead to any of this, but sitting here, in Carmy’s sparsely furnished apartment, looking at the soft smile on his face and the nervous way he’s fussing with his fingers as you eat the dinner he made you, you’re grateful.

Not that you’ll tell Natalie that. Or Leigh. They don’t need that ego boost. 

You wipe your mouth on a napkin and look up to see that Carmy is gazing at you expectantly. You laugh, his eye contact making you a little nervous. 

“It’s good, Carm. Really good. You can eat.”

He swipes his hand down his face, but when it comes down to grab his fork, he lets you see his smile. “I’m glad you like it. Not too much parsley or anything? I didn’t add lemon because Sugar mentioned you saying you didn’t like pasta with too much lemon juice in it.”

Your mouth drops open. That’s such a small, easy to forget thing. Maybe you will have to give Nat a hug. 

You reach out to touch his hand. Tentatively, just in case it’s too far. “That’s so sweet, Carmy. It’s perfect, really. And honestly the lemon thing is from one very overpowering pasta experience. Maybe whatever you make me will be better.”

Carmen takes a big bite of pasta and a swig of beer so he has time to collect himself. “Maybe we can fix your lemon-related trauma.”

“As long as there’s a backup snack in case the lemon PTSD can’t be fixed.”

You both burst into a fit of giggles. The rest of dinner goes by, filled with conversation about everything and nothing—Carmy’s lack of knowledge about current television, your love of reading and need for someone to share the plots with. 

Carmen is making you a plate to take home with you when he’s finally psyched himself up to ask his question. He says your name and you peer at him from your spot against the counter. 

“I-uh…I’ve been trying to do my hair the way you taught me, but I can’t get it right. I was wonderin’ if you’d show me? Maybe? You don’t have to—”

“Of course I can. All you had to do was ask.” You push off the counter and beam at him. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

You’re lucky you already learned the way to his bathroom so that your streak of confidence would continue working so well. And when you squeeze out some of the hair gel into Carmy’s hands, you know he just needed an excuse. He’s got it down pat. 

He runs his hands through his hair, scrunching clumps together every now and then, finger-curling the pieces up front and by his ears. Now you’re just waiting to see what he really wanted to say. 

You cross your arms, attempting to look serious, but you can’t hold back the grin spreading across your face. 

Carmen looks over at you, drying his hands now that they’re free of product. He’s never been great at reading people, but that look in your eye tells him he’s a shit actor. 

“So, that didn’t fool you, huh?”

You giggle. “Not at all, Berzatto. You couldn’t even fake how well you’ve learned to do your hair.”

Carmy takes a step closer to you, rubbing his nose self-consciously. “I’m very bad at saying what I’m thinking. Or saying what I want.”

“I can see that.”

He squints at you, his lips ticking up just slightly. 

“So what is it you want but are too scared to say?” you start. “Do we need to play hangman?” 

That would normally get a laugh out of him, but he’s too on edge. Inhale. Exhale. Oh, just fucking say it, Carm. 

“I wanna kiss you.”

Your ears burn. You release your bottom lip from where it was pinned between your teeth. “I was hoping you’d say that. Please do.”

You push up on your tiptoes, suddenly bursting with excitement and hoping that’ll convey to Carmen that he doesn’t need to be nervous because you want this just as bad. 

It works. 

You put your hands on Carmy’s collarbones the second his fingers slip into your hair. Your nervous system lights on fire, thoughts of how much surface area his palms cover racing through your mind. He kisses you all shy and hesitant at first, like he’s nervous he won’t do what you’re hoping. 

His lips are warm, and you can feel the spots where he’s chewed them raw. You can’t help but think that kissing him might be a good way to break that habit. His nose presses into your cheek, tickling you and making you giggle.

Carmen pulls away, smiling at you. “What’s so funny?”

“Your nose was tickilin’ my cheek.”

“Oh? Like this?” He starts dragging his nose across your face and then down to your neck when he feels you start to laugh harder. He thinks he’s finally cracked the code. It seems like pasta and nose tickles are the proper way into your heart. 

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

rb banner from @steph-speaks

[kaiyunsim]

restless—

pairing : idol best friend!jisung x gn!reader

summary : after a night of many shots of soju, a drunk confession slips before fans rush in, creating an awkward hungover morning.

warnings : fluff, SLIGHT angst, fans are kinda annoying tbh, drunk jisung (duh), drunk reader, both get hungover

a/n : o m g. tbh i might open requests for jisung cuz he is SAUR cute omg please (one chance jisung🙏). for the pookie @the0p

queueing : kitchen - sza, table of one - natalie jinju, restless - bibi

— wc : 4.0k — not proof read —

you and jisung have always been close. friends, mostly. the kind of friends who joke around, goof off, and sometimes even share your secrets. you’re sitting at a bar together tonight, the dim lights and the soft hum of chatter making the atmosphere cozy, but there's something in the air. maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it’s jisung being a little too close, or maybe it's just you finally admitting that you have a crush on your best friend.

"hey," jisung says, his voice just a little louder than usual as he nudges your arm. "are you feeling it yet?"

he's already a few drinks in, his face flushed and his smile big and goofy, though it's clear he’s trying to keep it cool. you laugh, maybe a little too loud, and glance at the soju bottle in front of you. you've only had a couple of shots, but it's already hitting you.

"i think so," you say, letting your words slur a bit. "you?"

jisung snickers, leaning back in his chair, clearly already tipsy. "me? i'm gone," he says, slurring the words with an exaggerated pout. "but i'm having fun. this is great."

you grin at his antics. jisung has always been playful, but tonight, there's something else about him. maybe it's the way his hair falls into his eyes, or how his hand keeps brushing against yours when you both reach for your drinks. either way, you’re feeling a little more nervous than usual, like the buzz from the alcohol is making you more aware of his every movement.

"yeah, this is great," you agree, a little breathless.

jisung’s grin widens, and he leans closer, his face inching toward yours as he teases, “you know, i don’t think i’ve ever hung out with you this much. it’s kinda fun."

you laugh, trying to hide your embarrassment. "what, like we don’t hang out enough?"

he gives you a playful look, then nudges your shoulder with his. “nah, i mean, this feels different, y’know? i dunno, maybe it’s the soju talking,” jisung says, his voice a little quieter now, but there’s an undercurrent to it that you can’t quite place.

you dismiss it. the alcohol's starting to make everything a little hazy, and you’re starting to feel warm in all the right places. it’s easy to ignore things like that when you’re tipsy, right?

"yeah, maybe," you say, trying to make the words sound light, even though you can’t quite ignore how his shoulder is still brushing against yours. "you’re just drunk."

jisung smirks, and for a moment, you think he might say something more. but instead, he leans back in his chair, slinging his arm over the backrest and looking at you with a lazy, half-lidded gaze. “i’m drunk, but you’re tipsy,” he teases. "i think that means you're the more responsible one tonight."

"ha," you chuckle, shaking your head. "i think you’re wrong."

he grins, but then his smile softens, just a little. “no, seriously. you’re good at this,” jisung says, voice surprisingly sincere as he looks at you. “i think you’re always good at... things. you know? like, you’re just... cool. i’ve always thought that.”

you blink, surprised by his words, but your mind doesn’t quite connect the dots. tipsy and just a little too giggly, you shrug it off. “what? i’m just me,” you reply with a laugh, knocking back another shot of soju. "don’t get all serious on me now, we're just here to have fun."

jisung laughs, too, though his is a little quieter, like he’s holding back something. “yeah, yeah,” he says, clearly trying to play it off, but his eyes linger on you longer than usual. you don’t notice. instead, you're distracted by the bright lights and the buzz of the crowd around you. maybe this whole evening is just that. a fun night, nothing more. at least, that’s what you try to convince yourself.

the night continues in a blur of laughter, more drinks, and random conversations. you and jisung joke about everything, from the music playing in the background to the awkward waiter who keeps glancing over at your table. but there's a shift in jisung. the more you watch him, the more you realize he’s been acting differently, a little more touchy than usual, brushing against your arm more often, leaning in just a little closer when he speaks.

you catch him staring at you once, and when he notices you’ve seen, he quickly looks away, his face turning red. you laugh, thinking it’s just the alcohol talking. after all, jisung’s always been a little... unpredictable. especially when he’s drunk.

"what’s up with you?" you ask, leaning over to nudge him playfully. "getting shy now?"

jisung shrugs, looking at you from the corner of his eye. “nah,” he says, voice lower than usual. “just... uh... thinking about stuff.”

“thinking about what?” you ask, genuinely curious, though you’re starting to feel the alcohol take full effect. your words slur a little as you lean against the table, trying to focus on jisung.

he hesitates, the playful glint in his eyes dimming for just a moment, before he grins again. "nothing. just drunk thoughts." he laughs, but it’s not quite the same carefree laugh he’s been giving all night. it feels... different. feels... nervous.

but you’re too tipsy to care. “yeah, right,” you mutter, brushing it off with a wave of your hand. “drunk thoughts are the best.”

“uh-huh,” jisung says, a little too seriously. "best thoughts ever."

the night is a blur of laughter and the warm glow of soju, the alcohol slowly building up inside both of you. your words slur and mix with giggles, your head growing heavier as the evening drags on. it’s fun, though. so much fun. jisung is always a good time, and tonight, with the alcohol loosening your thoughts, everything feels like it’s just a little bit more intense than usual.

the conversation shifts, and jisung, now thoroughly drunk, becomes more playful, teasing you in that way he always does. his hand brushes against your shoulder, a subtle touch, but it lingers a little longer than necessary. the warmth of his hand on your skin sends a flutter through you, and your heart skips a beat.

"you know," jisung says, his voice quieter now, the usual playfulness in it replaced with something softer. it catches your attention, the sudden shift in tone. "i really like spending time with you. a lot."

you freeze, blinking up at him. the words settle into your mind, but they don’t quite make sense. maybe it’s the soju talking. maybe you’re just imagining things. "what, like... friends, right?" you ask, laughing nervously, hoping it’s just a passing comment. but there’s something in jisung’s eyes. something that says not to take it at the surface level.

jisung’s eyes widen, and he leans in just a little closer. his face is flushed, but he doesn’t look away. "no... i mean, yeah, but..." his voice falters slightly, and you can see the hesitation in his movements. "i mean... i kinda think i like you. more than a friend. i’ve liked you for a while, actually. like, a long while."

your breath catches in your throat, the words ringing in your ears. you blink rapidly, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. did he just..? was he really saying that? jisung, your best friend, the one who always joked around with you, the one who made everything feel easy. he’s telling you he likes you? more than a friend?

your heart starts to race. the room seems to spin slightly, but it’s not from the alcohol, it’s from the sudden shift in reality. jisung likes you. he’s saying it so openly, so honestly, and yet... you don’t know how to react.

before you can respond, a loud voice breaks through your dazed thoughts. "hey! jisung!" a group of fans suddenly appear, calling his name excitedly, their eyes bright with recognition. jisung snaps out of his daze, his gaze moving from you to the group of girls now approaching your table.

"oh, uh," jisung stammers, his face flushing an even deeper red, his playful demeanor snapping back into place like a mask. he sits back in his chair too quickly, almost knocking over his drink, and gives the fans a wide, charming smile. "yeah, yeah! sure! let’s take a picture!"

you sit frozen, unsure of what just happened. jisung’s confession, the words hanging in the air, but now replaced by the sudden rush of fans wanting attention. it’s like the moment never happened at all.

your mouth feels dry, and you try to shake the confusion off, but your mind is still reeling. jisung likes you. more than a friend. it doesn’t seem real. it’s too much to process, especially with the alcohol clouding your judgment. the fans crowd around jisung, and you watch as he laughs and poses for selfies, sliding easily back into his idol persona.

you look down at the shot glass in front of you, swirling the liquid inside absentmindedly. your fingers feel unsteady, and your thoughts are racing. should you tell him you feel the same way? should you do something about it? the words are there, sitting on the tip of your tongue, but they don’t come out. you’re still too caught in the rush of everything, the soju, the fans, the unexpected confession.

jisung doesn’t even glance back at you. his attention is fully on the group of fans now surrounding him, taking pictures and chatting. you should be happy for him. after all, this is his world. you’ve seen it countless times. his fans, his charm, his ability to shift from casual to idol mode with a single smile. but tonight... tonight feels different. it feels like you’re on the outside looking in.

you sigh quietly to yourself, pushing the thoughts away. you’re tipsy, it’s fine. jisung’s probably just drunk and being silly. he doesn’t really mean it, right? maybe he was just feeling sentimental or had too much to drink. the way he’s acting now, laughing with fans, the flirtatious glint in his eyes, it all seems so... normal.

“hey, you okay?” a fan asks, noticing you sitting quietly at the table, away from the group.

you give a half-hearted smile, nodding. “yeah, just... just tired. too much soju,” you mutter, your voice low, not really wanting to explain the thoughts racing through your head. “nothing to worry about.”

they nod and return their attention to jisung, and you’re left alone again. a small part of you feels relieved, but another part, maybe the one that’s been feeling strange since jisung’s confession, feels empty. you want to shout at him, to tell him that you feel the same way. but the moment is gone. lost in the chaos of his fans and the noise of the bar.

time passes slowly, and you find yourself back at the dorm, the cool night air doing little to sober you up. jisung’s laughter echoes down the hall as he stumbles ahead of you, still clearly drunk, his arm slung around one of the other guys. you follow behind, still caught in the fog of what happened.

you’re barely coherent, but the moment you shared with jisung keeps replaying in your head. he liked you. more than a friend. how could you have missed that? maybe he didn’t mean it. maybe he was just rambling, drunk and lost in the moment. still, the way his eyes held yours and the sincerity in his words. it just felt so real.

when you reach the dorm room, jisung collapses onto the couch with a dramatic groan, immediately pulling a pillow over his face. you stop by the door, still feeling like a whirlwind is spinning inside you. you don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or do something completely different.

jisung lifts the pillow slightly, looking over at you with a sheepish grin. “hey,” he says, his voice slurring, “you good?”

“yeah, just tired,” you respond, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heart is still racing. “but, uh... you?”

jisung shrugs, his smile lazy. “i’m fine. just... you know. i like you.” his words are slurred, but they hit you like a freight train.

you freeze, blinking. “what?”

he waves a hand lazily in the air, as if the confession was nothing. “nah, it’s nothing. i’m just drunk. forget i said that.” he chuckles and flops back down on the couch, completely unaware of how those words hit you, like a bomb, like everything you’ve been feeling was just thrown out in the open.

you stand there for a moment, heart pounding, but you don’t say anything. maybe he’s not being serious. maybe it’s just the alcohol. maybe you’re imagining things.

you glance over at him, his back to you now, clearly more interested in the couch than anything else.

but deep down, you know. jisung may have just let something slip. and you’re not sure what to do with it yet.

the next morning comes far too quickly. you wake up to the dull throb of a hangover and the light creeping through the curtains. the weight of everything that happened last night hits you all at once. you blink, groaning as you try to sit up, but the motion sends a wave of dizziness over you. you lie back down, rubbing your temples as you attempt to piece everything together.

last night was a blur, but there are flashes of clarity. jisung’s words, the confession, his flirty demeanor, and then... the fans. everything happened so fast, and now you’re left with this uncomfortable feeling in your chest. did he mean what he said? was he just drunk, messing around?

you glance over at the couch, where jisung had passed out. his arms are sprawled out, and the blanket he threw over himself has slid to the floor. he’s snoring softly, oblivious to the storm in your mind. you sigh heavily, feeling your stomach twist.

you don’t know what to do with any of it. what did he mean by “i like you”? you feel your heart race as the memory replays in your head. you want to believe it was real, but the way he brushed it off afterward makes you second-guess everything.

eventually, you drag yourself out of bed, trying to ignore the headache that comes with it. you need coffee. that’s the only thing that’s going to help right now. you shuffle into the kitchen, already reaching for the coffee pot when you hear movement from the living room. jisung is awake, apparently, and a moment later, he walks in, still a little disheveled but looking surprisingly chipper for someone who’d clearly been just as drunk as you.

“morning,” jisung says, his voice rough from sleep, but there’s that familiar grin on his face. he looks completely at ease, his usual energy returning now that he’s no longer completely drunk.

you offer a half-hearted smile. “morning.”

he flops down onto the couch with a loud groan, stretching his limbs out like a cat. “what time is it? my head is killing me. i think we need more soju to fix this.”

you chuckle weakly, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. "probably not a good idea."

jisung laughs and looks over at you with a playful grin. “yeah, yeah. i'm just kidding." he pauses, watching you for a moment as if contemplating something. "you know, i think we had fun last night.”

you blink, unsure of where he’s going with this. “yeah, definitely. a lot of fun.”

he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, and gives you a more serious look. “we should do it again sometime. you and me, more soju, more hanging out. you know? i mean, i think we should do it more often.”

you stare at him, your heart thudding in your chest. does he remember last night? does he remember what he said? “uh, yeah, sure,” you say, trying to sound casual, but your voice comes out quieter than you intended. you’re unsure if you should mention it, his confession. maybe he’s forgotten about it. maybe it’s better if you just pretend it didn’t happen.

jisung grins widely, clearly oblivious to your internal turmoil. “cool. i’m down for that. maybe we can... uh...” he hesitates for a moment, his eyes darting away from you. “maybe we can talk more. just... us. y’know? sometimes i think you don’t let me in enough.”

you blink at him, trying to process his words. “what do you mean?”

jisung looks a little uncomfortable for a second, his usual confidence faltering. “i don’t know. like, sometimes you’re just... i dunno, distant. i want to be closer to you, but it feels like you’re keeping something from me.”

your heart skips a beat at his words. is he being serious? you glance at him, unsure of how to respond. you want to tell him everything. about your feelings. about how his confession last night has been replaying in your head. but you don’t know if you should. is he really being honest with you, or is he just drunk again? what if he was just messing around?

before you can find the words, jisung continues, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. “i just want you to know, i... i really like you. i do. i’m not just saying that because i was drunk last night. i mean it. i’ve liked you for a while, and it’s hard not to... feel it, you know?”

your heart races, your mind spinning. you weren’t expecting this. not after everything that happened last night. jisung’s words are clear now, no ambiguity, no alcohol-fueled haze. he likes you. and he’s not backing down.

“you... you really mean that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “because... i don’t know. last night was—”

“i know,” jisung interrupts gently, his eyes sincere. “i was drunk, and i get it if you think i was just being dumb or whatever. but i’m not messing with you. i’m serious.”

you feel a lump form in your throat. you want to tell him everything. you want to tell him that you like him too, that you’ve liked him for so long, but the words get stuck. instead, you nod, barely managing a smile. “yeah, me too. i think... i think i like you, too.”

jisung’s expression softens, and for a moment, there’s a quiet understanding between you both. he smiles, a small, genuine smile that makes your chest tighten with warmth. “really?”

“yeah,” you say, finally finding your voice. “really.”

he laughs, but it’s not the usual teasing laugh. it’s soft and relieved, like a weight has been lifted. “well, damn. guess we’ve got a lot of talking to do then.”

you smile, your heart still racing, but it feels lighter now. the air between you is charged, the tension that’s been building up for who knows how long finally starting to dissipate. jisung leans back on the couch, crossing his arms behind his head, still looking at you with that soft smile.

“so, when do we do this?” jisung asks, his voice light but serious. “when do we actually... hang out like this, just us, no distractions?”

you chuckle, your nerves slowly fading. “whenever you want.”

he grins at you, his playful demeanor returning, but there’s something more there now—something deeper. you’re not sure where this is going, but for the first time, you feel like it might actually be going somewhere good.

the rest of the morning passes in a blur of easy conversation and comfortable silences. everything feels a little more natural now, a little more real. the tension is still there, the spark between you and jisung undeniable, but for once, it feels like you’re both on the same page.

maybe it took a drunken night and a confession for everything to come to light, but now, you don’t have to hide anymore. you like him, he likes you, and that’s all that matters right now. everything else can wait.

you both sit in the living room, sipping on cups of water instead of coffee, because caffeine is a terrible idea when you’re this hungover. jisung groans every few minutes about his headache, dramatically flopping onto the couch like he’s on the verge of death.

“i think this might be it for me,” he sighs, draping an arm over his eyes. “i had a good run, right?”

you roll your eyes, nudging his leg with your foot. “you’re so dramatic.”

he peeks at you from under his arm, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. “maybe, but my head is actually killing me.”

“mine too,” you mumble, rubbing your temples. the dull ache behind your eyes refuses to go away, and the exhaustion from last night’s emotional rollercoaster is creeping in.

jisung sits up, stretching his arms above his head before letting out a long sigh. “you know,” he says, voice quieter now, “i still can’t believe i actually said all that stuff to you last night.”

your stomach flips. “do you regret it?”

his eyes widen slightly, like he hadn’t considered that possibility. “no,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “not even a little bit.”

you swallow, feeling your chest tighten at his sincerity. “good,” you say softly. “because i don’t regret anything either.”

jisung’s lips curve into a small smile, and for a moment, you just sit there, staring at each other. there’s no awkwardness, no hesitation anymore. just an unspoken understanding that whatever this is, whatever it’s turning into, you’re both okay with it.

“okay,” jisung sighs, dramatically throwing himself back against the couch. “but, like, what now? do we do the whole couple thing? do i start calling you babe? because i feel like you’d hit me if i did that.”

you snort. “probably.”

he grins. “figured.”

the conversation slows, the exhaustion from last night settling into your bones. you yawn, stretching your arms above your head before slumping against the couch. “i don’t wanna do anything today.”

jisung hums in agreement, his eyes already drooping shut. “same.”

there’s a beat of silence before he shifts, his head falling against your shoulder. it’s a little awkward at first, his weight unfamiliar, but you don’t move away. instead, you let him lean against you, his warmth seeping through the fabric of your shirt.

“you’re comfy,” jisung mumbles sleepily.

you chuckle, tilting your head to rest lightly against his. “thanks, i guess.”

he hums, his breathing evening out slightly. “wanna just… sleep all day?”

you consider it. your bed sounds amazing right now, and honestly, you don’t have the energy to do anything else.

“yeah,” you mumble. “let’s sleep.”

jisung grins, his eyes still closed. “cool. but your bed. not the couch.”

you huff out a soft laugh but don’t argue. slowly, you both drag yourselves up, stumbling toward your room in a haze of exhaustion. jisung doesn’t hesitate to flop onto your bed, immediately burrowing under the blankets like he belongs there.

“wow, you didn’t even wait for me,” you tease, climbing in beside him.

jisung peeks at you from under the covers, grinning. “you took too long.”

you roll your eyes but settle in, feeling the warmth of the blankets and jisung’s presence beside you. for a moment, there’s silence, just the steady sound of your breathing as you both start to drift off.

but then, just as you’re about to fall asleep, jisung shifts closer, his arm lazily draping over your waist. “this okay?” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

your heart stutters, but you don’t pull away. instead, you nod, even though he probably can’t see it. “yeah,” you whisper. “it’s okay.”

jisung hums in contentment, his grip tightening slightly. “good.”

and just like that, the two of you fall asleep, tangled up in warmth and quiet understanding.

no pressure, no expectations. just you and jisung, finally on the same page.

[chrisevansredbelt]

Playing Dangerous

pairing: dbf!frank castle x reader

warnings: not really any! this is kind of a backstory intro. death, funeral, smoking, drinking, drugs, and the sheer thought of jon bernthal.

summary: after your fathers death, you find yourself familiarising yourself with his best friend. his hot, dilfy, big thighed best friend.

multiple parts planned! all inspired by lana del rey songs

a/n: me when im back bc i missed writing... anyway this is a somewhat different universe to my og dbf!frank story but also not because it follows the same concept of lana del rey songs.

ALSO even though it is frank castle... im using characters from the bear... sorry i guess i really am only using frank because of the name i just didnt feel right writing jon or michael SORRY

and i am also using sex and the city characters too okay im sorry if nothing makes sense now but ENJOY

playing dangerous by lana

.・。.・゜.☘︎ ݁˖ ・.・𝄞・゜・。.

Pulling up beside the familiar cars parked in front of the church, Frank swiftly gets out of his truck, shutting the car door behind him. His brother Carmen, and cousin Richie, stand by their cars, gathering however once Frank approaches them.

"Thought we weren't gonna see another one of these until it was one of our own and when we're 80." Richie notes, hands on hips as the three of them observe the crowd of black disappearing through the church doors.

Frank scoffs, "Yeah, well, Brock loved stupid games." He marvels at the amount of people who showed up. Brock always made note of how many enemies he had, he must have forgot to mention how many friends he had too.

Brock was Franks best friend. Ever since being enlisted together, they were pretty inseparable. They then went on to work with each other, shady business that subsequently cost Brock his life.

Brock was on the run from police... corrupt police who would do anything for $20 and a donut. Brock had a hit out on him ever since fucking over an old acquaintance by insulting his wife.

As cops chased him down one night, he was cornered. Brock ended up shooting and killing the cop he hated but was subsequently shot and killed by another.

Some good did end up coming about Brock's passing though, as an investigation was launched into the dead officer and the bribe's he took. Which ended up revealing an international bribe ring of some sort that landed Brock's enemy in jail with a hefty sentence.

Frank wished he had been with him that night, wondering if Brock's life could have been spared in any way. But on the flip side, Frank knew that Brock would have died happy killing the officer he hated so much and recalled the many nights Brock had confessed his disdain against the lifestyle he landed himself in.

"At least he's with his wife now." Carm then adds, earning a nod from the others.

As the last of the guests enter the building, Frank decides it's probably time to follow suit.

As painful as it would be to see his best friend no longer living, they all had a few words to say in the session and there was no backing out now.

Though everyone was still finding their seats, when the three men had entered, they had all still managed to give them pitiful looks. Eyes reading 'Sorry for your loss'.

The three of them make their way to the front row of seats, joining the few others that had clearly arrived earlier.

"Hey," Their sister, Natalie, smiles up at them, scooching over on the pew as they take their seats next to her. They offer greeting smiles back. Frank gazes around the church, admiring the many eyes of religious figures that stare back at him. "Hey, did you see his daughter turned up?" Natalie adds in a quiet whisper, making the three of them shoot their heads around in the direction of her gaze.

There, in the front row beside them sat you. Brock's only child and daughter. Everyone kind of just knew of you and your existence, but never actually saw you.

Though Brock always bragged and boasted about you, how beautiful you were, how proud of you he was, the truth was that he rarely saw you. A few years after he had left you, he occasionally made the effort to at least see you on birthdays and Christmas. But his visits slowly died off.

The relationship was still there, you texted and he sent you letters and money, but you lived with your friend and her family for most of your teen years.

Richie nudged Carmen, wiggling his brows, whilst Frank just takes you in. The men can’t help but ogle at you. You were almost like a fable or myth, and seeing you now for the first time ever was strange.

"Poor kid." Natalie purses her lips, brows furrowed in concern.

Frank knew he had to speak to you. Maybe it was the fact that you were his life long best friend’s daughter. Or maybe it was the funny feeling in his stomach as his eyes scanned your figure.

-

You watch as people leave in their expensive cars down the gravel road, sighing in relief at the lack of attention you were now getting.

Your father was laid to rest in the cemetery beside the church, in a space next to your mother.

Though few people still linger around their cars parked on the other side of the church, you keep your head down and make your way back up the church steps, pushing your way through the big, wooden doors.

You were glad no one else was here. Your social battery was drained for the month after today and you didn’t think you could take another ‘I’m so sorry for your loss’, ‘Your dad was a great man’, ‘I’m sure he’s happy to be reunited with your mother’, 'I didn't know he had a daughter'.

You made your way to a random row and knelt on both knees, clasping your hands in front of you and bowing your head.

You weren't entirely religious, nor did you really know what you were praying for. All you knew was that if someone saw you, they would at least respect the gesture and leave you alone.

Wrong.

You hear the church doors open behind you and you close your eyes, quietly sighing. Whoever it is, they do not speak, but you can feel their eyes burning a hole through your back.

Out of curiosity, you lift up your head and turn to the back of the church.

Oh?

"Hi," The man greets sheepishly, "I'm sorry if I’m interrupting.” A small, reassuring smile on his face. You stay silent but shake your head softly, allowing him to continue. He takes a few steps closer, "I'm Frank."

You blink up at him a few times until you connect the dots on who this Frank person really was (and stop ogling at his god-like face) "Oh." You let out accidentally, before clearing your throat and correcting yourself, "Yeah, I’m familiar with the name." You choke out, standing from your kneeling position out of respect... though you wouldn't entirely mind staying down there- God, you mentally slap yourself and remind yourself that you're in a church. And on top of that, you knew of Frank to be your dad’s friend... his best friend. You never saw him or heard anything else about him other than him being your dad’s best friend, but it was nice to finally put a pretty face to the name, “I’m Y/N.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He smiles warmly now, extending a hand out for you to shake which you do so quite timidly, "Listen, if you need anything… I know you've probably heard that a lot today, but I'm probably the only one who really means it." He jokes and you can't help but let out a small smile.

“Thank you.” You nod. He was right though. Out of all of them, Franks did seem the most genuine. "Thanks for taking the time to check up on me."

He nods in response before reaching into his back pocket, pulling out a wallet and from that wallet, a small card, "Here, take my number." You take the small business card from him, "If you really ever need anything, reach out… If I had knew your dad would pass so soon, I’m sure I would’ve promised him to look out for you.”

You weren’t annoyed by Frank’s social interaction, unlike everybody else who talked to you today. Everyone else just seemed so full of shit. And Frank at least knew who you were.

-

You watch as another car passes by before sighing. The heat was starting to get to you a little and as the sun began to set, it landed opposite you, blinding your eyes.

After the funeral, you made the decision to walk to the closest bus stop and make your way back home that way. Though you caught an Uber to the church, you couldn’t bare any more questions or painfully awkward small talk about your day. So you opted for the bus.

The area was nice in any case, a small neighbourhood 20 minutes from Manhattan where you used to live as a child.

It was nice to experience the silence as well. You were so used to the loud of the city that you’d almost forgotten what it was like to just sit with nothing but the birds, the bugs and the leaves. And to actually see the sun without being blocked by some high rise building.

As you zoned out, staring at the ground, you hear the bus finally arrive. Only, you thought it was the bus. You look up and you’re met with a black pick up truck coming to a stop right in front of you and now your heart races.

The window rolls down and a familiar face slightly judges you, "You seriously taking the bus?"

You stand from your seat, small kitten heels clanking against the concrete as you step closer to Franks truck.

You're kind of loss for words. You had made sure to linger in the church for a while and only left when you believed everyone else to have already left. Frank must have stalled in the cemetery or something?

“I..." You start, "I thought it would be relaxing.” You explain vaguely, shrugging your shoulders. Frank quirks a brow and you sigh in defeat, “I didn’t feel like talking to nosy Uber drivers.”

Frank cracks a smile, shaking his head and reaches over to the passenger door, unlocking it for you, "Get in."

You're unsure what it is that makes you give in to getting into his car. Perhaps that Frank was probably the closest thing to your father that you were ever going to get in your life and you automatically felt safe with him. Whatever it was, it felt right.

Jumping into his car, you get comfortable, admiring the interior of it. You couldn’t help but notice, however, the faint smell of either cigar or weed lingering in the car, mixed with the efforts of the Black Ice air freshener dangling from his rear view.

Not only this, but you see his packet of cigarettes in his cup holder.

You’d been dying for a cigarette ever since the funeral started, but couldn’t bring yourself to whip one out as you walked to the bus stop- more concerned about your heels and feet surviving the journey rather than your urge for nicotine. And you refrained from doing so at the bus stop in case it pulled up any second.

“May I?” You ask after rummaging through your purse and holding up the small box of sticks.

“Go ahead.” Frank shrugs with a soft smile, “Where do you live?”

You blow out your plume of smoke out the previously opened window, offering it to him, “West 84th.”

“Upper West side.” He notes with an impressed nod, taking your cigarette from you gratefully.

You raise your brows a little, you could not believe it either that you lived there now, "Inheritance came in handy."

The drive to the city with Frank was nice. It wasn’t awkward and you were able to keep a steady conversation. You could definitely see why Frank was a life long friend.

"Which one is it?" Frank asks, cutting your thoughts short as he pulls into your street.

"This white one here." You point and Frank's lucky that there's a vacant spot out front. He seems impressed by your house as he leans over his wheel to get a look at it while he parks.

To be truthfully honest, you were a little bummed once you had come to a stop.

"Do you wanna come in?" You don't even realise what you're asking until it's already out and Frank's looking at you dumbly. Fuck. “I-I just got so much of his stuff, m-maybe you can help me figure out what to do with it?” You try to cover up.

You internally cringe however as you wait for his answer. Why the hell did you just invite this man into your home without hesitation?

You really didn't expect the words to come out of your mouth. But what was even more surprising was Frank's answer, "Sure."

You take Frank up the small stairs to your house, unlocking the door, “Sorry, it’s a bit messy.” You apologise as he walks in after you. You watch as he takes in your apartment and feel a little insecure for some reason. God, what did it matter what this man thought of your brand new apartment?

“No, it's nice.” He nods and you feel yourself relax. He makes his way into your living room and stares at the piles of boxes and plastic covered furniture. The last of your furniture had arrived yesterday and you had no time, or energy (or frankly manpower for that matter) to sort it out.

"It's a work in progress." You sigh, "I always imagined this to be something my dad would have helped me with." You admit and again, cringe at yourself for being so depressing.

"I can always lend a hand?" Frank offers.

You open and close your mouth like a fish. You didn't mean for Frank to get to that conclusion but at the same time, Frank seemed like he was already going to offer. But you were too humble to say yes, even if you were too cheap to get movers (even though you now had money, old habits never die) and you were convinced you could do it on your own.

But now that Franks offering, you’d be stupid to decline.

The one thing that needed to be put together was your bed, but aside from that your furniture was old, vintage pieces. They were also light so it’s not like it would be entirely arduous labour for Frank, but it would just mean a lot less chain smoking and broken nails for you.

You ended up ordering pizza for the both of you and fuelled Frank with beer as he got to work on setting up your furniture. You helped him out with the light work, but you mostly just smoked and chatted away.

Frank had no issue with it though.

Frank told you many stories about your dad. You realised Franks memories with him definitely outnumbered your own, which was humbling to say the least.

You found the both of you now seated on the hardwood floor of your home, taking a break as you take the time to really talk and eat.

"Can I ask..." Frank starts carefully, and you're mindless to what he's about to ask, "Did you resent your dad?" His question makes you put down your drink, " It's just- you seem to be taking his passing quite well and you were actually at the funeral... Most people I know in a situation like yours wouldn't do such a thing."

You dart your eyes around the room, running the question through your head. You, too, had realised that your own fathers passing hadn't made you a hysterical wreck, like it would have made most people. You also questioned why.

When you got the news that your dad died, you cried but only sparingly and never again after that day. But you went to class the next day, drinks with the girls the next. What the hell was wrong with you?

"I know the shady shit he did killed my Mom." You tell Frank, "I did actually resent him for a while for leaving, then I accused him of killing her and didn't talk to him for a few years." You admit shamefully, "But as I got older, I understood him leaving was keeping me safe and I couldn't argue with that... As for the day he died..." You begin, but take a second to find the words, "I don't know... I guess... it's like he's not really gone." You say, but watch as Frank tilts his head a little in confusion, "Well, he is gone... but it's felt like that for a long time now... Maybe I'm used to it." You feel as though you've just solved the mystery. You feel hot all of a sudden, looking up at Frank and seeing his eyes staring right back at yours. You clear your throat, "Um- What about you? H-How did you handle it?"

"Oh, man." He starts, shaking his head, "It was one of the worst days of my life... I was a wreck." He admits. This might be unfair to say, but you didn't expect a man like Frank to be so open about his emotions, "But your father was all about seeing the good and I just thought, he would kick my ass if he saw me like this instead of celebrating the life we had together and the man he was."

It was silent after that, but you must note that it was a comfortable silence. You let each other sit with the feelings from the conversation had and it felt nice.

Frank is the first to break the silence, by nudging your foot with his, “But what's up with you, girl? Are you in college?”

You smile at him and his effort to lighten the mood a little, “I graduated last year in journalism.” You sigh. It wasn’t anything groundbreaking, certainly not for New York. But it was the only thing that really interested you- having spent most of your formative years journaling your each and every thought, experience and emotion. Writing just came natural to you, “What about you? Are you married?”

Fuck, was that too forward?

“I am not married, no.” Frank answers anyway, with a laugh even.

You would be lying if you said you didn't search for a ring when he first introduced himself to you. What could you say, he was a gentlemen. And plus, you wanted to ask in case you just so happened to be keeping him from her by having pizza and beer at your house while he helps you build your furniture.

Yep, that's the only reason.

Frank only stayed for about an hour longer after that. It had gotten pretty late anyway and you were both tired from the day you had.

You walked Frank to the door, giving him a new case of beer as a means of thanks. Seriously, with Frank's help, all you really have left to do is unpack your boxes and decorate the house.

“Thanks for all your help, Frank.” You say, unable to even recall how many times you've expressed your thanks today.

“And I mean it when I said to call me if you need anything.” He reminds, pointing at you and you roll your eyes.

If you were dying or in jail, maybe. But you didn't have many plans to bother Frank. You wish you could-

“Where do you live?” You ask, simply out of curiosity... or desire to be in his presence longer.

“New Rochelle.”

You widen your eyes, but then furrow your brows, “You drove me all the way here even though you lived like 5 minutes away from the church?” You ask in disbelief. He just laughs as an answer, meanwhile you're rummaging to the side through your foyer drawers and handing him a bunch of crumpled President Jacksons, “Here.”

He laughs down at the money, pushing it back to you, “Sweetheart, I’m not taking your money.”

You look at the money shoved into your chest in defeat. But you know he's not going home without something, “Fine.” You mutter before digging through your purse on the same table.

You pull out your metal cigarette case and hand him a pre-roll that you planned to smoke after the funeral.

Frank looks at it longingly, averting his gaze back and forth before slowly bringing a hand up to take it, “Fan of the Blazy Susan’s I see.” He notes, eyeing the pink paper and you roll your eyes.

“Oh, is it too girly for you?” You mock, leaning against your door, contempt now that you've paid your dues.

He tucks the joint behind his ear in response, “Whoever you're buying from, tell 'em you've found someone new."

You're not surprised Frank grows and sells, but you scoff at his persistent concern about you, "I'm sure my weed isn't laced." You assure him.

He shrugs, "Maybe not, but at least mines free."

He had you there. Weed was an expensive habit and you'd considered stopping for a while now, but could never bring yourself to do it. And now that is free and most definitely safe, you wonder if you'll ever stop.

You bid Frank a final farewell and safe drive as he takes the steps down to his car. You wait and watch as he drives down the road and only retreat back inside once he's around the corner.

You can't help but miss his company now that the house is quiet, but lingers his smell.

And as Frank drives through the quiet streets of the city, he can't help but wonder... as do you as you flop into bed...

'Why do I feel this way?' Shortly accompanied with, 'Would it really be that bad?'

.・。.・゜.☘︎ ݁˖ ・.・𝄞・゜・。.

MANY PARTS TO COME

i hope ive hooked you in, im excited for this series

thanks for reading okey byeeee

[lovecla]

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist, nico hischier x you.

FAKE IT ‘TILL YOU MAKE IT, phase seven:

<last chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: smut (shower sex, p in v, unprotected sex), brief aftercare.

➴ word count: 2.1k

💌 from me to you: not my best work, but after the week i had, this is all i can give you :,) sorry if it sucks too much. so, are we ready to start saying goodbye to nico and em?

𖧷

NATALIE SPENT so much time quiet that you, Ella and Mia thought she had frozen and her wifi was off.

“Hello? Nat?” You call her, looking at the laptop screen. “I think you’re frozen—”

“I’m not,” she laughs and rests her face on her hand, looking amused. “I’m just— I’m speechless, that's all.”

“That was my reaction too,” Ella quietly says, and you coo at her cuteness, giving her a cheek kiss. “I thought they were pranking me.”

“So, let me see if I got this right,” Natalie claps her hands, inhaling loudly. “You and Nico weren’t actually dating until two weeks ago?”

You bite your lip, hiding your smile.

Believing that you are Nico’s real girlfriend is still hard for you.

“Yeah…” you nod.

“And you just started fake dating him so that Nora would finally notice the poor man and hook up with him?” She continues and you scrunch your nose, rolling your eyes.

“I mean—”

“Yes, that’s exactly what she did,” Mia jumps in, looking up from her phone. “Sometimes I’m certain that she thinks we live in a movie because in what world does fake dating even work?”

“Well, in ours, apparently,” Natalie scoffs. “Em is literally dating Nico after being his fake girlfriend for I don’t even know how long.”

“Three months,” you answer. “I didn’t think before doing it, I told you guys. It was like a spur of the moment kind of thing.”

“I think it’s sweet.” Ella smiles.

“You think everything is sweet, baby,” Mia also smiles at Ella, watching the youngest of you all blush prettily. “But can we talk about the skank in the room?”

Ella’s blush deepened and you laughed hard. “Mia—”

“I mean, are we really going to ignore the fact that Nora knew you and Nico were together and still kissed him? Like, hello?”

“That girl is literally trash. I still don’t know how half of the men inside the NHL are dumb enough to fuck her,” Natalie exclaimed.

“Do you guys think Jack fucked her?”

All of you, even Natalie through facetime, look at Mia with surprised eyes.

“What?” She asks, her face turning red, just like Ella’s.

“Why are you asking this?” You ask her, with the same tone as a twelve year old who just figured out her friend has a crush on someone. “Are you interested?”

“Wh— No!” she throws a pillow on you, looking distressed. You can hear Natalie’s laugh through your laptop’s speaker. “I just thought about him because Nat mentioned dumb men and that’s exactly what he is.”

“For how long will you keep hating on him, M?” you ask, laying on the couch. “It’s been seven years already.”

“As long as he keep acting like he owns the fucking world,” she hisses, before moving back to her phone.

You, Ella and Natalie look at each other before Ella sighs and starts speaking.

“When will you come see us?” she asks, changing the subject to something lighter.

Natalie sighs. “Honestly, tiny, I don’t even know. Dad keeps drowning me in work and things are really busy right now. The only time I can think of leaving Vancouver is when he’s away, and, y’know, he’s never away.”

“This sucks,” you say. “You’re twenty-five years old, you’re supposed to be doing the things you love.”

“I think my time for doing the things I love is up,” she chuckles, humourlessly. “I already went to Law School and graduated. Now I just have to keep my dad happy, I guess.”

“Luke told me it is never too late to do the things that make us happy,” Ella whispers, looking at Natalie with fond eyes. “So… If you really want to work as a lawyer, Nat, I think you should just… you know, go for it.”

“You’re the cutest, El,” Natalie smiles and now you’re all— Mia included— praising Ella and kissing her cheeks and messing with her hair. “I love you all so much and I miss you!”

You spent the afternoon chatting with them, happy to be around people you loved so much. When you left Mia’s house to go to yours, you had the biggest, brightest smile on your face, and you couldn’t stop asking yourself when your life had changed this much and turned into something this special and beautiful.

Whenever it happened, you were grateful that it did.

𖧷

“NICO?” YOU called when you closed your front door, looking around for your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend, Nico Hischier. Your real boyfriend.

You smile to yourself, putting your purse on your couch and walking towards your bedroom, hearing the distant sound of water coming from your bathroom.

Which means Nico’s probably in there, showering before bed, something he does every night. You remove your socks and your coat, leaving them on your bed, alongside your jeans and shirt.

Nico’s humming to some weird song when you enter the bathroom, the steam blinding you momentarily before you close the door behind you.

“Em?” he asks, speaking over the sound of water.

“Hi, baby,” you say, watching as he wipes the shower glass with his hand and smiles at you. “Mind if I join you?”

“Of course not,” he answers, opening the door for you, as you remove your panties and bralette, leaving them on top of your toilet seat. You get inside the shower, grateful that it was big enough to accommodate both of you with space left to spare.

“How did your girls day go?” He asks, removing the shampoo from his hair while you look at him, not even hiding the lust you feel whenever you see him remotely naked.

“It was fine,” you say. “Natalie called us crazy, but so did Mia.”

“Classic Mia.” He chuckled and you hum, agreeing.

“I missed you,” you whisper, watching those dimples you would quite literally die for appear and make your night brighter. “Five hours away from you should be considered torture.”

Nico laughs and kisses your lips fervently and unexpectedly.

And you kiss him back just as hungrily, his wet body drenching yours instantly, while his hands trace the curves of your body like he’s an sculptor caressing his favorite piece of art.

You hadn’t expected it to be this easy to connect with Nico, but it is. It’s your first time initiating something this intimate with him, and to your surprise, you’re not nervous— not even that good kind of nervous. It feels so natural and you’re so happy inside his arms, tip-toeing on the wet, marble floor as you feel your body connected to his.

You hold his wet hair in your hands, pulling them lightly. Nico seems to enjoy that, as he moans inside your mouth before pulling back, brown eyes looking deep into yours.

“You’re the best choice I’ve made,” he confesses, and you smile, feeling yourself getting shy. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I thought I loved Nora.”

“You don’t?” You playfully ask, tilting your head up.

He kisses you briefly before pulling away just enough to move his mouth: “Hmm, it doesn’t hold a candle to what I feel for you.”

After that, everything that happens continues to feel as natural as breathing. When Nico sits on the marble structure and looks up at you, puppy eyes shining in your direction, you can feel yourself start to melt. Your hands find his toned arms and caress them, noticing how his hair went up, which made you smile.

“I really want to fuck you, schatz,” Nico says, the accent slipping out of his mouth and reaching your ears.

“Really?” you whisper, caressing his chest now. “I don’t want to interrupt your shower routine…”

“I can do that later,” he smirks, gently grabbing your wrist and pulling you down, until you were sitting on his lap. He kissed you fiercely, licking your lips with his tongue, while he arranged your legs the way he wanted.

You let him do whatever he wanted to with your body— your trust in him goes beyond words and if he wanted to put you upside down, he could.

So, when he puts both of your legs on each side of his hips and brings you closer, the moan you let out is embarrassingly loud. You can feel how hot and how hard he is, even if he’s away from the water still running behind you.

It’s not sustainable and you probably shouldn’t be having sex in the shower but fuck if it doesn’t feel good.

I’m sorry, Mother Nature.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he says, touching you everywhere, his large, rough hands finding their way into your soul. “It’s… fuck. I love you.”

You smile, nodding your head up and down. “I love you too.”

You grab his cock with your left hand and stroke it twice before slowly sitting on it, keeping your eyes on Nico the entire time, enjoying every single second.

His head was thrown back, and he had his eyes closed, mouth open with the hottest moan you’ve ever heard. He looked like a god and you clenched a little harder around him when you remembered that he is entirely yours to keep.

“Fuck, schatz, don’t do that again.” He opens his eyes, and looks at you with his brows furrowed. It’s cute.

“Why?” you play dumb, sliding further down his dick.

“I’m gonna end all of this in five minutes if you keep doing that.”

You want to tell him that you don’t actually believe that men can go much further than that because all of your previous relationships have been sexually frustrating, but once he plants his feet on the floor, holds your waist with both hands and slams himself against you, you can tell he won’t be like any of your previous relationships.

And he isn’t. He fucks you into pure oblivion, making you see stars as your ass hits his thighs, and he manhandles your body, up and down.

You feel his dick stretching your insides and it’s mind blowing how good it feels. Your back arches when he hits the sweet, wonderful spot inside you, and you immediately close your eyes, scared that he might see how far gone you are.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers, his tongue licking you clean, while you feel your body temperature rising as the room gets warmer and warmer. “I love seeing you lose control, Em, got me so fucking soaked.”

You whimper against his ear, digging your nails into his back, smelling his soapy scent.

The water cascaded down your bodies, steam swirling around you, creating an intimate cocoon of heat. He lifted you effortlessly, your hands tangled in his wet hair, pulling him closer as he trailed kisses along your neck, his lips warm against your slick skin.

“Nico.”

“I know,” is what he replies back, leaning against the wall and gripping your waist harder. “Fuck, you feel so good, baby.”

When you came, babbling nonsense in his ear and barely containing the tears in your eyes, you felt ecstatic. It was exhilarating, touching yourself with timid yet precise fingers while Nico slammed himself inside you over and over again.

He maneuvered your body with ease, like it was so easy for him to do whatever he wanted with you. Like if he, one day, decided to break you in half, he could.

And you’d let him.

He kept pounding against you, touching your sensitive clit even when you’re so overwhelmed with everything, rough fingers knowing exactly what to do. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Say my name again, schatz, please,” he murmurs. “Can you do that for me? Hm?”

“Y-Yeah,” you cry. “Nico.”

“Again.”

“Nico, fuck, Nico, you—”

When he pulls himself out of you, coming all over your tummy and thighs, you let yourself fall forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and burrowing your face in it.

“Sh, it’s okay, baby,” he sounds out of breath and hot at the same time. You breathe in his scent while feeling your own body hurt deliciously. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Mhm,” you don’t move, feeling his hands all over your body. “I do.”

“Great.” He chuckles, moving both of you around so you’re once again totally under the shower’s head.

Once the hot water hits your back, you feel your muscles relaxing, resting your head on Nico’s chest as he wraps his hands around your waist and kisses your forehead.

“I’m praying it will rain soon,” you say, smiling tiredly.

“Why?” Nico frowns. “You hate the rain.”

“I don’t hate the rain, I’m not Nat,” you laugh. “I just prefer sunny days.”

“Then why do you want it to rain?”

“Because I’m feeling kinda guilty,” you whisper. “We’ve been here for more than thirty minutes, we probably drained New Jersey’s water supply.”

His laugh is contagious and heartwarming.

“Well, then I’ll pray for the rain too.”

<next chapter>

[bumblesimagines]

Imagine:

Secretly seeing Natalie Scatorccio

Request: Yes or No

Kind of a sequel

~~~~

"Your music taste sucks."

"As if yours is any better." 

"At least you've got some decent choices."

Things felt oddly... nice. Most times when he invited someone over to his place for a quick hookup (which was a rarity in and of itself), they'd leave right after or he'd drop them off back at their place. But Natalie lingered, slipping his shirt on and exploring his room, going through the things he had scattered around and exposed. Things like his vinyl records, open notebooks, his Walkman, some of his clothes. He watched her from his comfortable spot on the bed, lungs exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air and eyes trailing over the shirt she wore that reached just around her upper thighs. 

Natalie glanced at him over her shoulder, taking notice of where his gaze went, and rolled her eyes, setting down the Blondie record back on the drawer and turning around to face him. "Like what you see?" She asked teasingly and walked forward until her knees bumped against the edge of the bed, moving down to crawl on it. Once she reached him, she snatched the cigarette from his fingers and brought it to her lips, settling comfortably on his lap. His hand moved to her hip, giving it a squeeze when she blew smoke into his face. 

"You excited for Nationals?" (Y/N) asked, waving away the smoke with a small scowl. Natalie chuckled and leaned over, pressing the cigarette into the ashtray on his nightstand and slipping her arms around his shoulders, a bright twinkle appearing in her eyes at the mention of Nationals. A bright smile spread across her cheeks, her body slumping over his. 

"Definitely." She exhaled, resting her head on his shoulder. "Everyone's excited. Lottie's dad is lending us a private jet, too."

"I've never been on a private jet before. First time for everything, I guess." (Y/N) said, resisting the urge to laugh when Natalie shot up, her hands pressing against his chest and widened eyes flickering between his. Her lips began to twitch up, forming a pleased smile.

"You're going? Holy shit!"

"Ben doesn't want to leave me home alone so Coach Martinez told him to bring me along since he'll be taking his two sons." (Y/N) explained, barely finishing his sentence when Natalie swooped forward, mushing their lips together. (Y/N) chuckled against her lips, his arms coiling around her waist as a warm unfamiliar feeling bubbled up in his chest. "You know," He broke apart from her. "Most girls I hook up with aren't usually this excited to know I'll be around."

"Oh, please. You're just not an unbearable dick, is all." Natalie rolled her eyes, lightly shoving his shoulders. (Y/N) released an unconvinced hum, watching Natalie's cheeks turn a soft red as her eyes rolled again, this time more dramatically and forced. He leaned in, planting a kiss on her throat and feeling the vibrations when she giggled. Her fingers moved over the sides of his face, palms pressing against his cheeks and tilting his head back to kiss him again. They both froze when the family dog, Princess, began yapping loudly, the sound of the front door opening and Ben's voice following soon after.

"Shit." (Y/N) hissed and the two scrambled off the bed, almost tripping over themselves and trying to keep their snickers quiet. Natalie whispered a sharp 'fuck it' under her breath, snatching her checkered pants off the floor and wiggling them on as quickly as possible. She grabbed her backpack next, glancing up at him when he almost toppled over while putting his own pants on, a soft giggle escaping her. (Y/N) reached down, grabbing her vibrant red bra and shirt off the floor and tossing them in her direction. Natalie shoved them into her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. "Hurry up!" 

"I'm trying!" Natalie stuck her feet halfway into her boots, glancing frantically toward the bedroom door as Ben's footsteps grew closer and closer. She successfully shoved her feet into her boots all the way and darted toward the window (Y/N) opened, planting a swift kiss on his cheek before she began climbing out.

"My shirt, Nat-"

"I'll return it later!" She assured, hopping down the short distance just as the door swung open and Ben's wide smile greeted him, though it promptly fell when he smelled the air. (Y/N) faced his older brother, folding his arms over his stomach and leaning against the wall by the window with a small smile. 

"What'd I say about smoking? And in the house? Your room's going to stink for ages, (Y/N)." Ben let out a disappointed sigh, his eyes shifting to look at his brother. His brows furrowed slightly and (Y/N) swallowed thickly, giving a casual shrug and turning to shut the window again. He caught Natalie making her way off the lawn and onto the sidewalk, letting a small smile slip before he closed the curtains and climbed into bed.

"Sorry," He replied. "It was the last pack, I swear." 

"Uh-huh." Ben pursed his lips, his head lightly shaking and body shifting to leave his room. He stopped in the doorway and craned his neck to look at him over his shoulder, his brow quirking. "I brought burgers from that diner you really like. And, uh, you've got a hickey on your neck. I'll see you in the kitchen."

[seresinoldhag]

scorch.

so, uh. a while ago, i was writing a pretty long slowburn with hangman that i loved but missed the timing and never finished. this is a major, almost finale, chapter of that story that i believe is good and i just wanted to post it somewhere, maybe someone will enjoy it. i've adapted it so it can be read without any context. some bits might instigate your imagination, even. lost pieces of the puzzle. the real thing ended up being over 10k words. you can either only read this part, or finish the whole thing on ao3. enjoy! jake seresin x f!reader. all you need to know is this is angsty, and they are not together.

It's all suffocatingly domestic, and you're trying not to think about it.

He's lying on the couch by your side while you read the dated paper of rules for the apartment complex, empty boxes of Hawaiian takeout covering the coffee table. Your hair is damp, your towel is inexplicably sitting on his shoulder now. He used your lemon-squeeze-scented soap. You made a comment about his predictable Axe deodorant. He helped you figure out the TV settings.

The words start blurring in front of your eyes when your thoughts take over, anxieties about how familiar his company has become, and how you could dangerously get used to this routine swarming your mind. It's not fair, you've already let him go. Why can't your heart live by your words?

"Who was your first movie crush?"

You lower the single page to look at the screen across from you, blessed by Natalie Portman's adorable smile in V for Vendetta.

"Obi-wan Kenobi."

Blonde, light eyes. A little shorter. So, he's not not your type. "Nerd. Why?"

"He was mouthy but still kind. I bet yours had something to do with an enticing pink wig?"

You smile again at the famous face that prompted the question, turning to him with teasing eyes just as enticing - even if you didn't know - as his teenage obsession.

He shrugs. "I'm a simple man."

"Don't I know it?"

Leaning back on the sofa, your eyes return to the page, and Jake's head remains turned to you.

He thinks back to earlier when Rooster teased you about your decision to stay and join Mitchell's program. How quickly you got in the man's face after he called out your 'work addiction'. As usual with the two of you, teasing became concern, and then a fight. "You need a break, Scorch. It's fine when I can keep an eye on you, watch your back, but-" "You do not watch my back." Jake couldn't be sure if he was shielding his eyes from the sunlight or the burning ire emanating from you. "I am as good as you, by your side. I don't need a carer." Rooster seemed less defeated and more disappointed. "You know that's not what I meant." He glanced at Jake. Too long to be accidental. "Can't live off of distractions, you gotta hold onto something real at some point."

He hopes he never forgets the first time he saw you choose not to say anything back.

Feeling needy for your attention, Jake steals the paper from your hands, reading aloud some of the strict rules for 'being a good neighbor'.

"Geez, guess I don't have to worry about your safety." He feels the chill creep up his neck when you glare in his direction. He is used to it. Your distant attitude doesn't discourage him anymore. Too late to protect his heart. "But are you…safe here? I mean, are you gonna be okay alone?"

When he turns his face again, you tilt your head to the side, as if it was weird that he'd even ask. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? Have you ever lived by yourself before? I don't mean on base or with a roommate, actually alone." Seeing your mouth open and close again, he sits up, stretching his arm on the back of the couch. "Maybe you could stay with Penny a few days of the week."

"Where is this coming from?"

"'S just we're all leaving, Mitchell can be a total fucking headcase sometimes and you have no close family so I'm worr-"

Your face falls almost instantly and he cuts himself off, sighing and bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, predicting your next sentence.

When you speak, it's not as confident as he was expecting. "I can take care of myself."

"I know that, Scorcher." His exhausted gaze finds you strangely open. "I'm just thinkin' it'd be nice if you didn't have to watch your own back for once."

Hand to his own heart, maybe a little subconsciously.

Then you do that thing he loves - when you know you're being kind of a jerk so you start apologizing for your words before they even come out - scrunching your nose and wincing. Like you're so sorry to hurt him but it's all you know. A vicious cycle.

A confession of your crimes against his tender nature.

"Before you say somethin' dumb," He raises a finger comically. "I didn't mean anything by it."

Gaze dropping to your lap, you sigh.

"No, really, I don't want-"

"Scorcher."

He knows how much of him you don't want. It doesn't change much of anything. He's been here before - after giving all of him, noticing the other person get overwhelmed, so he starts compartmentalizing. He'll adapt and make it fit until there's absolutely no more space.

Along the way, your silences with Jake became heavily meaningful, and it's something you feared. The unspoken is now easily interpreted. You're known to each other.

Feeling highly exposed under his unrelenting gaze, squaring your shoulders, an exit pops into your head.

"Should we, uh, maybe talk about earlier? You know, with Bob." Jake tries his best not to wince, embarrassed of his little jealous fit in front of the entire squad. "Not the lowest moment of my week." He concedes. Your body stiffens next to him, but when your voice comes out, it's empathetic. "Ejections fucking suck." "I meant you. You were definitely the worst thing that happened to me this week." Forced to punch out during a standard exercise. Two lonely nights at the hospital. A stupid argument with a squad mate over his bruised ego on everyone's last day. None of this would've happened if you hadn't brutally rejected him on the beach that morning. "You nearly died and you're cracking jokes?" "What do you care?" His nose is high up, cocky smile rubbing in your face that you've lost the right to treat his accident with sincerity after failing to show up in his hospital room. "Right?" "Jake, I-" He doesn't really want to do this right now. "I'm kidding. And I was kidding with Bob too."

"Of course." Innocently resting your chin on a closed fist but mocking him. He stares back, firm - if not a little flustered. "Okay."

"It's Floyd…"

"Which means?" Mouth slightly open, daring him. "He's handsome, smart, nice…Tragically not quite you, I know, but not bad at all."

Jake tsks. "Doesn't make sense for you."

"Oh?"

Although responsive, the striking green does not have the same livelihood they once held when he looked at you. The possibility he's simply no longer interested makes you feel what you think is your heart breaking, which in turn makes you sick at yourself. You fought for this.

You analyze his every move, struggling to not choke on your own mental back and forth.

"Yeah, he's too obviously good, can't get in your own head about cracking him - what he's got hidin' underneath. So boring."

If there's any snide in his voice it's forced for the sake of humour. Your inhale is choppy.

"I wasn't…trying to crack you."

Lie. That's definitely what you were doing, rummaging through the pieces that construct him so you could see if any of it could fit you. Of course he doesn't believe you either.

An exagerated sigh, throwing his head back and watching the ceiling. "Love it when we keep saying the opposite of what we mean to each other."

You're getting sick of Jake catching up, seeing everything exactly for what it is and not walking away, so your words come out through gritted teeth.

"What do you want me to say, Seresin? I had a feeling and…I like being right."

Jake tries not to dwell too much on the meaning of that. On your unwavering and selfless faith in him, but most importantly on the extent of your stubborness. You confessed to it a couple days ago, at the beach, caring more about being so sure of the disastrous fate of you and him than the fact he was willing to be with you despite all that you had against it.

"Seems like you had a lot of feelings you didn't tell me about."

When his gaze shifts to you again, he's met with that staple unsettling look, but it's different tonight. It doesn't feel aimed at him.

After an afternoon of beers and goodbyes at Penny's bar, Rooster is the last one to drive away with a waving Natasha on his passenger seat.

"Did they work out?"

Jake asks in a hopeful manner. Maybe they could, if we couldn't.

"I'm not sure, I-" Was so caught up in us. "I didn't ask."

"Damn, you are a terrible friend."

Your eyes drag away from the distant jeep.

"If you wouldn't have done the courtesy of nearly dying, I could've focused on other people more."

"Don't make up excuses, especially when it was your fault."

"Your ejection wasn't my fault! Are you insane?"

He takes a deep breath and inches closer. "I wasn't dehydrated, I didn't pass out. I had a panic attack."

Recognizing vulnerability in his eyes, your stomach sinks further, and you know you won't be able to say the comforting words you wish you could say or ask him what happened with a straight face.

"Can't blame a panic attack on me." You're short of breath, thinking back to the heated argument you and Jake shared at the beach about everything. About being in love, and how you couldn't possibly let that happen. He seemed...off after. You could never imagine how it'd end up.

"Hm, you're right." He circles behind you to the passenger door of your car. "I'll just say you're the bane of my existence and blame you for everything, generally speaking. Does that loosen the rope around your neck?"

You can't help but miserably giggle, climbing into the driver's seat. Your head is pushed against the headrest, fingernails scratching your nose as you try to understand what to do with the warmth pooling in your chest.

"What is this? I mean, aren't you going home?"

He's rummaging around the glove compartment, purposefully making a mess. "My brother's picking me up tomorrow morning."

"I thought you had sisters."

"And a brother."

A deck of questions opens itself in your head, biting your lip to stop them. Getting to know him more would be counterproductive at this point.

"So where are you spending the night?" He raises his head suspiciously. "It's just, Pete already worked out an apartment for me and I could use some help. There's a couch I bet is comfortable enough. Unless you-"

"My stuff is at the base."

"Mine too, I still need to get the keys with Mav." Seconds go by with him looking at you, your teeth biting the inside of your cheek, trying your best to make this look like an innocent invitation. A favor. The slick sound of the seatbelt being pulled sets you in motion, driving off with a burning confusion in the pit of your stomach.

Quickly, you crumple the paper in your hands, collect the empty boxes and strut to the kitchen, quiet.

The bitter laugh that comes out of him is muffled by his hand coming up to wipe his face and rub his eyes.

"Relax, I'm happy to be your guinea pig." He regrets saying it halfway through the sentence, not knowing how to get you to stop running in the other direction. He mumbles under his breath. "You're such a dick." finished work on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61256968

[mintyys-blog]

Psycho reader! X Psycho Peter? Kinda like joe and love

A FRESH START— dark! peter parker x dark! reader

WARNINGS: obsessive, toxic behaviour, implied past murder, cheating, murder.

The house is perfect. Quaint, picturesque, and just secluded enough.

Peter’s hand rests lightly on your lower back as you both step through the threshold. The wooden floors creak beneath your feet, the scent of fresh paint still lingering in the air. Your fingers trace the smooth surface of the kitchen counter—marble, polished, pristine. Untouched. Just like this town. Just like this life you’re about to build together.

A fresh start.

“We’ll be happy here,” Peter murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. His voice is soft, promising.

You smile, turning to face him. “Of course we will.”

Because this is what you do. You adapt. You blend. You erase the past and carve out something new, something better. And if things ever get complicated—well, you both know how to handle complications.

The real estate agent, a chirpy woman named Claire, beams at you from the doorway. “You two are going to love it here. Ridgewood is a wonderful town, very close-knit. Everyone looks out for each other.”

Peter’s grip on you tightens just slightly. His eyes flicker toward Claire, assessing.

Too friendly. Too eager.

A liability?

You thread your fingers through his, grounding him. Not yet.

Claire doesn’t notice. “I’ll let you get settled in, but if you need anything, I’m just a call away.” She lingers for a moment before leaving, her footsteps fading down the front porch steps.

You exhale, watching Peter as he locks the door behind her. He turns to you, his expression softening instantly. “New house, new town… new us.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close. “New us.”

It’s a lie.

You both know that.

But lies are the foundation of every great love story.

The sun casts golden light through the kitchen window, illuminating the quiet domesticity of your new life. Breakfast sizzles on the stove—bacon, eggs, toast. You hum softly, the knife gliding effortlessly through a strawberry.

Peter watches from the table, dark eyes lingering on your movements. He likes this. The simplicity of it. The illusion of normalcy.

You feel his gaze before you even turn. “You’re staring.”

His lips quirk into a small smile. “Just admiring my wife.”

You set the knife down, tilting your head at him. “We’re not married.”

A flicker of something crosses his expression. Something unreadable. “Not yet.”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you plate the food. Peter stands, moving behind you, hands sliding to your waist. His chin rests on your shoulder, lips brushing against your skin. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” he murmurs. “This. Us. A fresh start.”

You nod, leaning into him. But there’s a nagging feeling deep in your chest—an itch beneath the surface. It always starts this way. Perfect. Clean. Untouched.

Then the cracks form.

And you? You’ve never been good at sitting still when the cracks begin to show.

—

You meet Natalie Thompson on a Tuesday.

She’s exactly the kind of woman that would thrive in a place like Ridgewood—effortlessly beautiful, PTA-level friendly, the type to bring fresh-baked cookies to a new neighbor.

Which is exactly what she does.

“I know how overwhelming a move can be,” she says, handing you a neatly wrapped package. “Just a little something to welcome you.”

You plaster on a sweet smile, accepting the gift. “That’s so thoughtful. Thank you, Natalie.”

She waves it off, eyes scanning the house behind you. “It’s just the two of you?”

Your fingers tighten around the plate. Too curious.

“Yes,” you answer smoothly. “Just us.”

Natalie hums, something unreadable flickering in her gaze.

You don’t like it.

Peter steps up behind you, his presence solid, grounding. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. Natalie’s eyes shift to him, and her entire demeanor changes.

You know that look.

She’s interested.

It’s subtle—the way her fingers brush through her hair, the slight shift in her tone. But you see it.

And suddenly, the itch beneath your skin worsens.

—

Peter finds you in the garden later that evening.

It’s quiet, the town settling into dusk. The scent of earth lingers as you dig your fingers into the soil, planting the roots of a new life.

Or at least, that’s the idea.

Peter crouches beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’ve been quiet.”

You glance at him, studying his face. “Do you think she’s pretty?”

His brows furrow slightly. “Who?”

You return your attention to the soil, pressing down firmly. “Natalie.”

Peter is silent for a moment. Then—“I think she’s curious.” His voice is careful, measured. “Too curious.”

You smirk. “That’s what I thought.”

His fingers brush against your wrist. “What are you thinking?”

You tilt your head, meeting his gaze.

The same thing you’re thinking.

Natalie Thompson is too curious.

And curiosity? It kills.

Part Three: Cracks in the Foundation

You know something is wrong.

Peter is careful—too careful. He leaves at odd hours, his excuses paper-thin. He comes home smelling faintly of something floral, something that isn’t you. When you touch him, he flinches, just barely, as if weighed down by guilt.

But what confirms it? What makes your stomach twist and your fingers curl into fists?

The way Natalie looks at him.

At first, it was subtle—an extra second of eye contact, the ghost of a smirk. But now? Now, it’s written all over her face. Triumph.

Like she knows something you don’t.

Like she’s won.

—

You follow him.

You’re not crazy. You’re not imagining this.

So when Peter tells you he’s going for a “run” at dusk, you don’t let him slip away unnoticed. You keep your distance, your heart pounding as he moves through the streets with too much purpose.

Straight to her house.

You clench your jaw, slipping into the shadows as he knocks on her door. The way she lets him in—smiling, pulling him inside without hesitation—makes your blood turn to ice.

Breathe.

You need proof.

You creep around the side of the house, peering through the large kitchen window. And there they are—Natalie, close, too close. Peter, standing still as she lifts a hand to his chest.

Then—She kisses him. And worse?

He doesn’t pull away. Not at first.

It’s soft, lingering, and even when he finally steps back, you can see it in his expression—guilt, but not regret.

Your hands shake. Your vision tunnels.

You don’t remember walking home.

—

He doesn’t know you saw.

When he comes back later, his face is neutral, practiced. But you see the difference. The weight in his eyes. The hesitation in his touch.

You don’t say anything.

Not yet.

Because the right words are weapons, and you need yours sharpened.

—

The fight happens two days later.

You don’t plan it—it just erupts, a dam breaking. Peter says the wrong thing, something about “trust” and “stability,” and suddenly you’re laughing, shaking your head, gripping the edge of the counter so hard your knuckles go white.

“You’re lecturing me about trust?” you spit, voice sharp. “That’s funny, Peter. Really fucking funny.”

He stiffens. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You tilt your head. “How was your run the other night?”

Silence.

For the first time, you see it—the flicker of panic, the way his throat bobs as he swallows.

You step closer, eyes locked onto his. “How was Natalie?”

His entire body goes rigid. “Y/N—”

“I saw you,” you whisper. “I saw you kiss her.”

His jaw clenches. “It wasn’t—”

“You didn’t stop her.” Your voice wavers, but your fury is unwavering. “You let her.”

Peter exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I made a mistake.”

You scoff. “A mistake?”

His eyes flash with something desperate. “I didn’t sleep with her. It was just—”

“Just what?” Your voice rises. “Just a kiss? Just a moment of weakness?” You let out a sharp laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “God, you sound just like them. All the men who swear they’re different, who act so fucking perfect until they’re not.”

Peter steps toward you, his hands reaching for yours, but you yank away. “Y/N, please.”

“Do you love her?”

His head snaps up. “What?”

Your nails dig into your palms. “Do. You. Love. Her?”

His silence is answer enough.

You let out a shaky breath, backing away. “I knew it.”

Peter’s expression twists. “It’s not like that.”

You shake your head. “I bet you told yourself that, too. That you weren’t doing anything wrong. That it was just a moment, just a kiss.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, blinking rapidly. “But you let her kiss you, Peter. And that’s all I need to know.”

You turn sharply, heading for the door.

Peter’s voice is low, urgent. “Where are you going?”

You don’t look back. “To clear my head.”

But in reality?

You need to figure out what to do about Natalie.

Because if she thinks she can take Peter from you…

She’s sorely mistaken.

Natalie answers the door with a smile.

It makes you sick.

She stands there, perfectly at ease, like she hasn’t been slipping her hands where they don’t belong. Like she hasn’t been pressing her lips to Peter’s like a woman with no sense of self-preservation.

But you’re not here to make a scene. Not yet.

So you smile back.

“Hey, Natalie. Can we talk?”

She blinks in surprise but steps aside, gesturing you in. “Of course. Is everything okay?”

You step into her house, the scent of vanilla candles and something sickeningly floral wrapping around you. That scent. The one Peter came home wearing.

Your fingers twitch at your sides.

Natalie closes the door behind you. “Do you want some wine?”

You tilt your head. “Sure.”

She moves to the kitchen, pouring two glasses. You take yours but don’t drink. Instead, you watch her—how casually she leans against the counter, how oblivious she is to the storm rolling inside you.

“I know about you and Peter,” you say evenly.

Natalie freezes, her fingers tightening around her glass. Then—a smirk.

“I figured,” she hums, swirling the wine in her glass like this is some goddamn game. “You’ve been looking at me differently.”

A slow inhale. A forced smile. “And you’ve been looking at Peter differently.”

She tilts her head, assessing. “Is this the part where you threaten me?”

Your grip on the wineglass tightens. “Should I?”

Natalie chuckles, setting her glass down. “I get it, Y/N. It sucks, finding out your boyfriend wants someone else.”

Boyfriend.

You exhale sharply through your nose. “He doesn’t want you.”

She arches a brow. “Then why did he kiss me?”

Your vision tunnels. Red. Red. Red.

Natalie sighs, folding her arms. “Look, I don’t want drama. It was just a moment—”

“You kissed him,” you snap, stepping closer. “And you knew. You knew he was mine.”

Natalie scoffs. “Oh, come on. Are we really doing this?”

“Yes.”

And then the glass is slipping from your fingers.

And your hands are on her.

And she’s gasping, struggling, but you’re stronger—you’re angrier—and before either of you can think, before you can stop, her head cracks against the counter.

A sickening thud.

A sharp inhale—yours, not hers.

Because Natalie isn’t breathing.

Natalie isn’t moving.

Natalie’s head is split open against the marble, and her eyes are frozen in shock, in something half-formed—a smirk that never fully bloomed.

Oh.

You step back, your pulse pounding in your ears. Your hands tremble as you stare at them—at the crimson smeared across your skin, hot and wet and real.

You killed her.

You didn’t mean to.

But you did.

And now—

You fumble for your phone, your breath coming too fast, too sharp. The call barely rings before Peter picks up.

“Y/N?”

“I need you.” Your voice is thin, shaking. “Now.”

—

Peter arrives in less than ten minutes.

The moment he steps inside, his eyes land on Natalie’s body. On the blood pooling beneath her skull.

Then—on you.

Your hands. Your expression.

Something dark shifts in his gaze.

He exhales slowly, setting his keys down. He doesn’t look horrified.

He looks at you like he understands.

“Tell me what happened,” he says, stepping toward you.

You swallow hard. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.”

Peter nods once, calm, steady. “Okay.”

You stare at him. “That’s it? Just ‘okay’?”

He reaches out, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. “Do you love me?”

Your breath catches. “Peter—”

“Do you love me?” he repeats, voice softer, his fingers ghosting over your jaw.

You nod, barely breathing. “Of course.”

Peter smiles. Soft. Devoted. Deadly.

“Then let’s clean this up.”



[nolita-fairytale]

sister-in-law | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader one shot

pairing: boyfriend!carmy x fem!reader

word count: 5.2k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, tooth rotting fluff, talks of marriage, marijuana usage, long term relationship

summary: set two years after the ending of ‘make my heart surrender.’ you and carmy have settled into a comfortable rhythm between creating something spectacular with the bear and exploring your relationship. now that you’ve been together for a while now, sugar asks you a very important question… while you’re both violently high.

a/n: this is a fun and silly little idea i had after discovering two year old videos of me and my best friend 60 minutes after taking an edible.

It’s not often that you get dressed up, but you don’t want Natalie to think that you’re a total slob. You’re mostly in comfy clothes at home, then kitchen clothes here at the restaurant so it’s a welcomed change up from the status quo. Every now and then you get dressed up for a date night with Carmy, but most date nights you’re so tired that you prefer to stay in.

After slipping on the wrap dress you found at the back of your shared closet with Carmy, you run your fingers through your hair making sure that it isn’t too messy from a full morning and afternoon’s worth of work. You notice that your hair falls in soft waves from being twisted into a bun earlier that morning, so you smooth out a few stray hairs that look a little too messy. You slip on your leather jacket, as it’s getting chillier at night, and make your way out of the bathroom. 

If you didn’t know how hard Gary worked to keep everything clean, you’d have your hesitations about changing in the staff restroom. While most of the restaurant had gotten a face lift during the remodel, the staff restroom was one of the remaining parts of The Bear’s past. You pass through the kitchen one more time, your pristine white sneakers clean only because you never wear them here, heading right to Carmy’s office. 

He’s got his head buried in some paperwork, a pen in his mouth as his eyes scan over the legal jargon that runs all through the first page. A stray curl frames his face perfectly, earning a smile from you as his focus remains unbroken. 

“You still cool with me taking the car tonight?” you ask your boyfriend, causing Carmy to look up from the new lease agreement he has yet to sign. 

“Woah,” he sounds, raising his eyebrows as he checks you out. He’s not used to seeing you like this – let alone in a dress. 

He wonders for a moment if he forgot an anniversary of some sort, panic beginning to set in. 

“What’s uh-, what’s going on?” he stammers, caught completely off guard by how good you look. 

You chuckle, knowing he’s only a little tongue tied because he hasn’t seen you in a dress in a while, “I’m heading to your sister’s, remember? For dinner. We talked about this last night.”

“Shhhhhhit,” he swears, hanging on to the first syllable. He tosses the lease agreement down on his desk in defeat, turning in his chair towards you. “I-, I just talked to Sugar earlier today. She didn’t say anything about dinner plans.” He pauses, swearing under his breath again. “Will you tell her I’m sorry? It must’ve slipped my mind and I’ve got to stay a little longer till Syd gets in.”

“Oh don’t worry about it, babe. You weren’t invited anyways,” you reply casually, letting him off the hook. 

Or at least you think it’s going to let him off the hook. 

You watch as his facial expressions move from panic to pure confusion. Carmy’s racking his brain for any kind of recollection, searching for any recollection of the conversation you’re referencing. Between training new line cooks and working overtime so that Sydney could take a vacation, his brain is fried and he has no idea what you’re talking about. 

You giggle again, stepping into his office, “I take it you don’t remember the conversation we had before we went to bed last night?”

Truthfully, you suspected he might’ve been half asleep when you’d curled up to him and let him know that you and his sister had plans tonight. He’d been working so hard at the restaurant lately that you’re not surprised he’s reached this level of burnout. 

“Baby, Nat invited me over for dinner tonight. We’re gonna hang out… catch up a little,” you explain pivoting to the whole ‘you’re not invited part.’ “If it makes you feel any better, Pete’s not invited either.”

You search his facial expressions, looking for any kind of familiarity, but it seems your words have only caused him more confusion. 

“Wait, let me get this straight,” he says, trying to put all the pieces together. 

“You’re going over to my sister’s?” he repeats back to you.

“Uh huh.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Without me,” he emphasizes. 

“That is correct.”

He takes a beat, before finally coming to his conclusion. 

“You and my sister have plans together without me?”

You laugh at how surprised he sounds. 

“Jeez, Carm. You’d think after knowing her for two years we’d be able to have a conversation without you, babe,” you joke with him. 

But he still looks like he’s trying to solve a calculus equation. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll try my best to steer clear of any embarrassing stories,” you reassure him, hoping to put his mind at ease. “And let her know that calling you a ‘soft shitty bitch’ in front of me is not your favorite.”

He laughs dryly, still trying his best to wrap his head around the fact that you and his sister are hanging out. It’s not that it’s a wildly radical concept for him to stomach, but between your relationship and the restaurant, you and Natalie had only spent a handful of times solo over the last two years (which was precisely the point she’d made when she called you the other day). You’d told her that you had a night off and appreciated the invitation for some quality time. 

“We’re kicking out Pete too. Maybe… you could give him a call,” you suggest, cautiously. You’re not even sure why you suggest it, considering the look he sends you that says, ‘not likely but nice try.’

“Or not,” you conclude, taking the option off the table as soon as you see the look on Carmy’s face. “You stickin’ around here tonight?”

“Just till Syd gets in,” Carmy replies. And considering how fried his brain feels, he could really use the night off. 

“Okay, well I’m gonna head home and feed Aioli before I head over to Sugar’s,” you tell him, in reference to the cat you both rescued just shortly after you moved in together. “See ya at home?”

“Sure,” Carmy replies, pressing his lips against yours in a gentle, goodbye kiss. 

He’s not sure whether he feels relieved that he doesn’t have to go to dinner with you, or nervous about the fact that you and Sugar are hanging out without him. What did you have in common with his sister? What the hell were you going to talk about and why did he care?

Sydney comes in a little later and she and Carmy catch up about her time off, things at the restaurant, the progress of their recently hired new line cooks. Before he knows it, she’s practically kicking him out of their restaurant, insisting that he get a head start on his night off. 

Carmy’s not sure whether it's the progressively chillier air, or the fact that the days are getting shorter that’s got him in his head. While he entertains the thought of going home, opening a window before he lights a few up, and crashing on the couch early, he’s not sure he’s ready to go home yet. With his plaid coat to keep him warm, Carmy enjoys a leisurely walk to a meeting instead. 

He doesn’t feel he needs them as much as he used to, but Carmy still likes to go at least once a week. You’ve joined him a few times and while he appreciates the support, he likes that it feels like a place that’s just his. That’s just for him. It’s almost been three years since Mikey died and while the pain isn’t as sharp, it continues to shapeshift. He likes having the outlet – whether he wants to stand up and talk about it or not. It’s a place he doesn’t have to be anyone – not chef, not a business owner, not a partner – but just some fucked up kid with a dead brother and anxiety.

Across town, you sit at the Berzatto kitchen table, flipping through old photo albums as Natalie finishes assembling dinner. You’re not sure how you got on the topic, but she’s telling you about her soulcycle class and running a successful campaign of trying to get you to come with her. 

“There’s one near River North and everything,” she says, glowing with her own excitement. 

“No, yeah, we should definitely go sometime,” you reply, as she’s just taken out the casserole dish of eggplant parm out of the oven

“I know your work schedule is sporadic. Why don’t I send you the schedule and you can just let me know which one you’d like to go to?” Natalie suggests, hopefully.

You agree, half to placate her and half because you’re genuinely curious about this ‘spin class’ that she can’t stop raving about. 

“Oh my god. Look at you guys!” you guys, pausing the minute you see a photo of all the Berzatto children. 

Mikey must have been a teenager in this one. He’s got a young, and exceptionally blonde, Carmy hoisted up over his shoulders, while Natalie glaring into the camera lens, a popsicle in her hands. 

“Oh my god… I haven’t seen this one in forever,” she says, glancing over at the photo album page you’ve held up to show her. 

“There was a heatwave,” she begins to recall fondly. “And Uncle Jimmy had set up a sprinkler in the yard for us so that we could play in some water. Mom always hated community pools and refused to let us join one.”

“Carmy is so blonde. And the bowl cut?” you laugh, running your fingertips over the photo. 

Natalie nods in agreement, “Yeah not the best look for him when the curls came in. He and I were both very blonde when we were younger… but Mikey… he always had that tall dark and handsome look from the get go. 

You take a beat, listening to her talk about Mikey. You turn the page of the photo book, your eyes scanning over a few new photographs. There’s one of Mikey in a tux that’s so 90’s it’s painful. He stands with a stunning redhead, her corsage matching his tie. There’s a younger Carmy in the background of the photo as well and suddenly, there’s a bittersweet feeling in your belly. 

“I wish I could've met him,” you finally say out loud. “Mikey,”

“Yeah,” Sugar says sadly. She rests her back against the kitchen counter, her glass of wine still in her hands. 

“He would’ve really liked you,” she offers up, sympathetically. “Actually, he probably would’ve hit on you just to push Carmy’s buttons a little.”

“Oh really?” you ask, a light chuckle escaping your lips. 

“Carmy didn’t date a lot. I mean… he hasn’t dated a lot… really till you. And Mikey on the other hand never had any trouble in that department, which I think only made him more eager to be Carmy’s wingman. Even when his methods were… questionable,” she replies, remembering her complicated older brother. 

“Is this your mom?” you ask, pointing to the middle-aged woman in the photo. 

“Yeah,” Sugar nods. “I know. She looks so different.”

You’re quiet for a moment. You’d only met the Berzatto matriarch once in the last two years you’d been living in Chicago, and it had gone less than swimmingly. Natalie and Pete had invited everyone over for dinner, and it hadn’t taken long for Carmy and his mother to get into it, leading to an early exit for you and him. 

“Carmy never really talks about her…” you trail off, shooting Natalie a look. 

“He-,” she starts, not sure how she wants to explain it. On one hand, while she can understand why Carmy keeps his distance, she resents him for not trying. “He had the least time with Dad… and then Mom, in her right mind. I’ve been thinking a lot about that actually… now that Pete and I are trying to get pregnant.”

You understand. But it’s tough to hear the sadness in Natalie’s voice as well, especially since she’s worked so hard to accept the relationship she'll never have with her own mother.

“Anyways, uh… I think the eggplant parm is ready,” Natalie says, changing the subject. She nods you over to the kitchen counter, prompting you to close the photo book, and follow her into the kitchen. 

*

By the time his meeting ends, the sun has almost set. Carmy makes his way out of the church, pausing at the bottom of the steps to pull out his phone. He’s not sure why, but he’s still not ready to go home just yet. The restaurant’s really taken off, which means he and Syd have been able to hire more line cooks, and he’s not needed every single day, day in and day out. While it’s great that they’ve grown so much, Carmy finds it a harder adjustment than he expected. He’s always had a complicated relationship with rest – with sitting still. 

After furiously entering in his passcode, he types up a quick text to Richie. 

Carmy: Yo. I got the night off. Up for a drink?

He sees the three dots at the bottom of his message with Richie and anticipates his reply. In a matter of seconds, a reply pops up on his screen. 

Richie: No can do, cuz. I got Ava tonight. 

Carmy knows that Richie’s fought hard to get more time with Ava. He’s been spending more time with her during the weekdays too, now that the staff that made up The Bear wasn’t made up of five people anymore. Everyone seemed to be experiencing shifts these days. 

Carmy: Another time. 

Carmy moves his thumbs over a few different screens, opening up a previous message that Syd’s sent him. 

Carmy: How’s everything going?

Sydney: All good, chef. Enjoy your night off. 

It’s a strange feeling – not being needed every single shift at the restaurant. He knew it meant that they’d made huge progress – had come so far from where they started – but Carmy was still adjusting to this new rhythm of… not shitty and maybe sort of a legit spot. They had, after all, taken home the James Beard “Best New Restaurant” award last year.

Carmy thinks about it for a moment. He could go back in, see if they needed help around the kitchen, but he knows he’d just be in the fucking way. He huffs out a stubborn puff of air as your words echo in his head:

We’re kicking Pete out too. Maybe… you could give him a call.

He shakes in his head in disbelief, not sure what possesses him as he thinks to himself, what the hell?

His fingers hover over Pete’s name in his contact list, before he finally just bites the bullet and clicks on the contact. He’s really started to warm up to Pete over the years, but it’s not like they’re hanging out or grabbing drinks by themselves or anything. It’s mostly family gatherings, little text message exchanges here and there, hanging out at the restaurant. 

Carmy waits as the phone rings: once, twice, three times. It’s on the fourth ring that Pete finally picks up. 

“Hey, Carm. What’s going on?” Pete greets. It’s so chipper that Carmy has to fight his impulse to throw his phone in front of a moving car. 

“Yo! Uh… you want to grab a drink?” Carmy asks, cutting right to the chase. 

Pete, completely caught off guard by his brother-in-law’s ask, rushes to answer. 

“Oh yeah! Definitely. I’m just uh-, leaving the Y downtown. Shootin’ some hoops. With the boys,” he replies, trying a little too hard to sound cool. Carmy’s not sure if he’s oversharing out of surprise, or if Pete is really just this much of a nerd. 

“Where you at?”

“Uh… River North. All-Family meeting,” Carmy answers. 

“Cool cool cool,” Pete nods. “Why don’t uh-, why don’t I come meet you up there?”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll uh-, see you soon.”

They discuss details and Pete’s eager to throw out a place that Carmy will think is cool. Carmy’s not sure what he’s in for, or why he called in the first place, but he’s already set the ball in motion. 

Before taking off, he shoots you a quick text message:

Meeting up with Pete. How’s it going?

You’re mid-bite as you receive Carmy’s text message, almost spitting out your food as you read what he’s sent you. 

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Sugar asks, concerned. 

“Carmy called Pete,” you say, still in shock. The two of you exchanged glances. “They’re gonna grab a drink. I mean, I kind of suggested earlier thinking there was no way in hell but-.”

Sugar rolls her eyes, “Well great. Looks like Hell’s frozen over. I won’t be surprised if the two of them bring on the end of the world.”

You laugh in response because it’s funny, and because you know that she’s deflecting – trying not to get her hopes that this could be a good thing. 

It’s not till you finish eating dinner that it hits you that Carmy really took your advice and is probably with Pete right now. You send over a quick text, because you can’t help yourself from checking in. 

You: How’s it going? You haven’t punched Pete in the face yet, I hope. 

Carmy: All good. 

You roll your eyes at his short reply, before your phone powers off. 

“Shit, my phone’s dead. Mind if I charge it?” you ask. 

“Of course,” Natalie replies. “Here, I’ll go plug it in for you.” 

“Thanks,” you say back, handing her your phone. 

She gets up out of her seat, making her way back to the kitchen where there’s a charger. You hear her slide something over, and the sound of plates being put into the sink before she says, 

“Fucking-, Jesus Christ. What a fucking loser!”

“What?” you call to her, not sure what she’s talking about. 

Natalie returns to you, a small pack in her hands and a look on her face like she can’t wait to tell you a secret.

“Pete’s been really stressed out at work,” she begins, on the verge of laughter. “So I told him to pick up a thing of CBD gummies.”

“Okay….”

“Only he’s a fucking idiot and…” she continues, before handing you the package that she’s had in her hands. “... clearly doesn’t understand the difference between CBD and THC.”

You examine the packaging and, in Pete’s defense, the letters that read THC are small. You laugh, turning the package over in your hands. 

Weed gummies. Pete accidentally bought weed gummies. 

“I gave him specific instructions on what to look for and where to-,” she says with an eye roll. As annoyed as she is with Pete, she also finds it endearing that he’s this much of a goody-two-shoes. 

“I’ll have him go back to the dispensary and exchange them tomorrow.”

You take a beat, not sure if you should say what’s in your head. Weed is legal in Illinois after all and he DID get them from a dispensary. You figure the worst thing she can do is say ‘no’ and think that you’re weird. 

“Okay but,” you begin deviously, pausing for dramatic effect. “What if you didn’t?”

“Didn’t…?” she pauses, eyeing you suspiciously. 

A smile creeps up on her face as the corners of her lips curl upwards. 

You shrug, “I think we deserve to let loose a little.”

Sugar waits, thinking it over. Really, she’s just looking for a reason to say no, and she can’t find one. 

“Okay, yeah. Why the fuck not?” 

*

“Do you feel like maybe it’s possible that we could… sink into the couch?” you ask, as the edible has officially hit. 

Natalie lets out a loud laugh, “YES! Yes, that’s exactly how I feel right now.”

“Like somehow our bodies will liquify and we’ll be a part of this couch for the rest of eternity.”

You sit side by side, feeling your bodies sink into the couch, relaxing into it. Damn, you haven’t felt this relaxed in a while and you can only imagine Sugar hasn’t either. Between carrying the weight of parenting everyone in the Berzatto family, you’re just glad that you two can blow off some steam together. 

“Okay, I want to ask you something,” Natalie says, turning her whole body to you. It feels like she’s turning towards you in slow motion and she definitely knows the edible has hit. 

“Hm?” you hum in response, turning just your head towards her. 

“It’s a very serious question.”

Only she can’t keep a straight face and the harder she works to be serious, the more the two of you laugh. 

“I’m not convinced this is serious,” you point out through a fit of giggles. 

“No, it is, I swear! Just-. Hold on.”

When Sugar finally collects herself, she has a very serious look on her face for a moment as she stares you down. Your eyes watch as she grabs your hands in hers, following with eight words you’re not expecting her to ask. 

“Are you and Carmen going to get married?”

“Wh-,” you start, unable to finish your sentence before bursting into another fit of laughter. It’s not that the concept is all that funny, but you are high after all. “Wh-, what-? Woah! Where did that come from?”

“No, I’m serious!” she demands, before lowering her voice to a whisper. 

“You said that.”

“Okay, well I mean it! Listen, listen, listen.”

You’re listening. 

“I mean, what’s the hold up? You moved your whole life here and it’s been two years! You’ve got to at least be talking about it right?”

You shrug casually, “Yeah, I know we’ve been dating for a while but-.”

Surprised by the hesitation she can hear in your voice, Sugar pauses. 

“Wait-, do you not think that Carmy’s-?” she begins to ask. 

“Oh my god, no!” you cut her off, eager to squash any notion that Carmy isn’t the one for you. “No, that's not it at all.” 

“Carmine…” you trail off, tickled by the nickname you’ve heard Richie use on more than one occasion. “... is the love of my life.”

“Aw.”

“Yeah… I guess we just haven’t really talked about… marriage… all that much.”

“Well, why not?” Sugar practically exclaims, startling you with her overenthusiastic rally. “You guys are fucking perfect for each other! You’ve been dating for long enough!”

“We’re just not in a rush, I guess!” you reply, with a shrug. 

“That’s such bullshit,” she argues, wondering if she needs to have a few words with her little brother. 

“No! No, it’s not, I swear. Let me explain,” you justify, sending her a ‘just hear me out’ kind of look. 

You clear your throat, trying your best to be serious, even though you feel you may be melting into the couch at this point. Sugar waits for your explanation, unconvinced that this isn’t all Carmy’s fault. 

“Would you think I was cheesy… if I said we’re not-, well at least I’m not in a hurry…” you begin, letting the words fall out of your mouth as you finish your sentence with, “...because I know we have forever?”

“Aw, no it’s-,” Sugar starts, before breaking into another fit of giggles. “Well yeah it’s totally super cheesy but it’s also… really sweet.”

You share a genuine moment of love and appreciation – for each other, for Carmy, for the fact that someone loves her little brother this damn much – before bursting out into laughter again. 

“Oh shit,” Sugar hisses, feeling her phone go off. She sits up, reaching for her phone that’s somehow fallen on the floor. The caller ID reads ‘Carmy,’ and she swears again.

“Speak of the devil,” she mutters, answering the phone. You cover your mouth, trying your best to be quiet. 

“Hellooo?”

You hear him ask if you’re still with her. 

“Uh, yeah, what’s up?” Sugar asks back, doing her best to sound sober. 

“Her phone’s off and I got-. Will you just put my girlfriend on, please?” Carmy asks. Sugar simultaneously finds it annoying and also sweet that he sounds worried about you. 

“It’s Carmy,” she whispers to you, handing you the phone. 

In a sing-song voice she teases you, “Someone is in trouble.”

You take the phone, mouthing back, ‘no i’m not.’ 

“Hello?” you answer, immediately hearing the worry in his voice. 

“Hey, I’ve been trying to call you but your phone’s off. Everything okay?” he asks, concerned. 

“Oh shit,” you swear. “Yeah, I’m sorry. My phone died right after you texted me about going to meet up with Pete. It’s been charging on the kitchen counter.”

“Okay,” Carmy sighs, relieved. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you, babe. But um yeah, no,” you reassure, your facade quickly slipping. You know you sound less sober by the minute. “Everything is… very cool. Very cool beansssss.” 

Natalie laughs at your explanation, slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle the laugh. 

Carmy pauses, noticing something different about the way your voice sounds.

No. It can’t be. 

This is the last possible thing that could happen this evening. Tonight was supposed to be about you and his sister bonding and probably talking shit about him. 

He can’t believe he’s going to ask you this. 

“Are you… are you high right now?” he asks, in pure disbelief as the words leave his mouth. 

You and Natalie shoot a ‘busted’ look to each other as you reply, “Um yeah. High on life. And also a gummy.”

Carmy chuckles at your juvenile response, “Okay, well, I’m glad you two are having fun. Promise me you won’t drive home?”

“Mhm,” you hum in response. “I’ll just uber home. To you, Carmy-Bear. The love of my life.”

“Wow, you really are high,” he comments, still trying to wrap his head around it. 

Carmy chuckles at his new title. It’s not the first time he’s heard you call him that, but it seems out of place considering. It makes him wonder what kind of trouble you and Sugar have gotten into this evening. 

“She’s fine, Carmen. She’s in good hands!” Sugar yells, loud enough so that he can hear it through the phone.

“Will you turn your phone back on though? I was a little worried there when I couldn't get a hold of you.”

“You were worried about me?” you ask, softly, his words affecting you even more now that you’re blasted.

“Awwww he loves you,” Sugar says softly.

“I know it’s pretty fuckin’ great,” you agree with a giggle. 

“You’re ready to go? Okay, yeah, we can-,” you can hear Carmy say. He pauses and you can hear him exchange a few words with someone else. “Don’t worry about getting a car back, sweetheart. Pete’s gonna drive me back and uh, I’ll take you home.”

“My hero,” you swoon playfully, eliciting another fit of giggles from Sugar. 

“Sweetheart, will you please tell Sugar that I’m coming to get you?” he asks, almost as if he’s talking to a child. 

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now!”

You pretend to cover up the speaker of the phone before saying, “Um, so, Buzz Killington on the line here wants me to tell you that I’m not allowed to drive home and he’s gonna come pick me up right now.”

“Oh, you’re no fun, Carmy!” she shouts back to him. 

“Babe, will you just put Sugar back on the phone?”

“Fine,” you scowl, handing the phone back to Natalie. “Sugar, my dad would like to talk to you.”

Carmy’s not sure how he has somehow found himself in a situation where he is the only adult in the metaphorical room as he hears your comment, dodging strange looks from Pete. 

“Fucking christ, Bear. Relax,” Sugar sighs out, annoyed with her little brother as she takes the phone back. “Sounds like he needs a gummy too.” 

“Sugar are you-, are you high too?” he asks, much more surprised to find out that she also seems to have had a gummy. 

“Yep. See ya soon, little brother. Byeeeee,” she says, before hanging up on him. 

Carmy’s surprised to discover that his sister has just hung up on him. He’s not sure whether he’s annoyed with the two of you, shocked that you’re both high, or humored by it all. At least he can stop worrying about you.

“What’s uh-, what’s goin’ on?” Pete asks, having witnessed that more-than-strange interaction with you, Sugar, and Carmy on the phone. 

Carmy lets out an amused chuckle before saying, “They’re high right now.”

*

It feels like a second and also three years later that Carmy and Pete come home, bursting through the front door. You and Sugar are still on the couch gossiping, barely paying attention to the Bravo TV show she’s put on in the background. 

Natalie offers to pack you guys up some leftovers, which Pete assists with, until you’re all standing in the doorway of Nat and Pete’s home. 

“So how exactly did this happen again?” Carmy questions, hesitantly. He’s almost too afraid to learn the answer. 

“Because my goody-two-shoes of a husband doesn’t know the fucking difference between THC and CBD,” she says, glaring at Pete. 

“Ohhhh no wonder they asked me for an ID,” Pete replies, his eyes widening. 

“You ready to go?” Carmy asks you, and you nod with a stupid lovesick smile on your face. 

You say your goodbyes and Natalie brings you in for one more hug. 

“And you’re still going to come with me to my soulcycle class right?” she asks with a very serious look on her face.

“Yes, yes. Absolutely. I will, I promise.”

“Awww okay. Thanks for coming over. I can’t wait for you to be my sister-in-law,” Natalie gushes, as she hugs you goodbye. 

“Woahhhh, okay. Uh, let’s get you home,” Carmy interjects, practically dragging you out of the door. 

Carmy ushers you to the car, and before you know it, you’re on the way home. 

“Do I even want to ask?” Carmy asks, sending an amused look your way. 

“No,” you giggle in response, resting your head on your shoulder. You’re sleepy as you cozy up to him. “What’d you and Pete talk about?”

He shrugs. They had kept the conversation pretty surface level. Pete had tried really hard to connect with Carmy over being a self-proclaimed foodie. 

“Best way to cook a steak.”

“Laaaaaame,” you reply. 

Carmy waits a beat, a soft smile on his face as he looks back over at you. 

“Sugar’s a bad influence on you,” he teases playfully, and you groan in response, shaking your head. 

“Mmmm did you ever think that I'm a bad influence on her?” you challenge, your tone light.

“Okay, bad influence,” he chuckles. Let’s get you home and into bed because we both have to be up in the morning.”

“Fffffffuck,” you shout, earning an amused laugh from Carmy. 

Halfway through the drive home, you fall asleep on his shoulder. Carmy looks over at you once more, a warmth filling his belly as he sees you passed out. He wonders what Sugar meant earlier, by calling you her sister-in-law. There’s no way she could know, right? He’d barely talked about it with you – let alone his sister. 

But Natalie’s always been ahead of him – always had the words for his feelings long before ever he had. And he’s been thinking about it: your relationship, marrying you, making it forever, legally. There’s no way she could know, right? That he’d taken a curious gander at engagement rings the other day. That he’d been cutting onions before dinner service and thinking about how he’d propose to you. That when you’d fall asleep before him, he’d lay there, wondering how the hell he got so lucky and how it’s humanly possible that you’re his.

Maybe, he’d just have to start thinking about keeping you, officially.

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite

[yourmommygay]

Revenge is the sweetest.

Warnings: swearing, smut, degrading, praise.

Pairings: colby brock x OC, nate Hardy x OC and a made up sister of Mr brock.

"Come one Natalie we are gonna be late for the pizza night" my roommate yelled from the living room, don't get me wrong living with lily is amazing especially since our brothers are best friends but lily has guys over nearly ever night we are at home.

"I'm coming!" I shout as I put on the last few touches in my makeup just a simple look was what I was going for.

(Makeup hair and outfit)

I walked into the living room and saw lily shut off her phone extremely quick, "got a new boy toy?" I ask her jokingly. "Yeah but um can I ask you something before we leave?" Lily asks me, I nodded and she looked me dead in the eyes. "Would you be mad if I slept with nate?" She asked me biting on her lower lip.

I laughed thinking she was joking but I could tell she wasn't by the way she was biting her lips, "your joking right? You wouldn't sleep with my brother when you said brother we strictly off limits." I said looking at her desperately begging for her to laugh and tell me she was in fact joking.

But that wasn't what happened. "I'm so sorry I was drunk and I didn't know what was happening I was supposed to tell you before tonight, nates already asked colby. He asked him almost 2 months ago" she replied nervously, hold on 2 months ago?. "Lily don't tell me you sleep with nate 2 fucking months ago!?" I shouted getting angry. "Well since that night it's kind of become more, me and nate are together." She said looking ashamed.

I couldn't look at her anymore so I grabbed my phone and my keys and walked out, "Natalie!" I heard lily shout but I just kept walking till I got to my car, "Hey siri, call colby" I said putting my phone in the rack. Lily and nate thinks it's ok to sleep with each other behind my back I guess I'll just have to do the same.

"Hey you on the way?" Colby asks me after picking up the phone, "nate and lily had sex and now they are dating" I said, "ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS, NATE? YOU THINK ITS OK TO FUCK MY LITTLE SISTER?!" I heard colby shout, "colby, how about we some fun in return?" I asked him making my voice more seductive.

All I heard was "fuck yes come and get here right now" then the call ended as I was driving to Sam and colbys house I saw my brother standing by the bus stop about to go home. I stuck my middle finger up and shouted, "lily's home alone if you want to go fuck her again" as I drove past I pulled into sam and colby driveway seeing sam walk out the door with his coat on and holding a bag. I assume he was staying at bryce's hours as they were going out drinking tonight.

I parked my car and walked in. "COLBY!" I shouted not knowing where about he was. "IN THE KITCHEN" I heard him yell back, I walked into the kitchen and saw him drinking white claw by the island so I went and hopped up on the island, "can I have some?" I asked pointing to the can. He nodded and came closer, instead of giving me the car he took a sip and pulled me into a kiss, letting the liquid slip into my mouth and run down my chin.

He pulled away and smirked at me, I smiled and pulled him back into me placing my lips back with his, he grabbed my thighs and pulled me closer, making me moan in the process. He pulled away and grabbed my hand leading me to his bedroom, we got in his room and he kissed me again slowly walking me back towards his bed, slowly laying me down too.

I pulled him onto me and he started to kiss my neck sucking and nibbling on some parts leaving obvious marks in his way, he pulled my shirt up over my head and threw it behind him somewhere, continuing his attack on my skin moving down from my next to my collar bones and then my boobs and then my cleavage, I sat up slightly and undid my bra pulling it off to free myself and to give myself to him.

He carried on going lower till he got to my stomach, "fuck baby, I would totally want a taste but right now I just need to be inside you" he said pulling my pants, fishnets and underwear off all at the same time, "so fuck me then colby, show me what your capable of" I moaned out watching him release his member from the confides of his jeans and boxers, he was longer then I thought with a beautiful natural curve and a bright pink tip that was leaking precum.

He payed down on top of me again and looked me in the eye "do you want me to go slow or just give it to you" he asked me waiting for my response. "Colby, the more aggressive you are with me the better" I replied as he pushed in making us both moan and groan at the beautiful stretch and tightness, "fuck your so tight" colby said before slowly pulling out and pushing back in building a pace and rhythm.

"Fuck colby just like that" I moaned trying to grab onto his hair. He grabbed both of my hands in one of his and pinned them above my head, "fuck, should've done this ages ago. You feel so ahh good on my dick" he grunted to me, I moaned in response. "Oh you like praise huh?" He asked I nodded and he pulling out flipping us so I was on top, "get yourself off on my cock like the good little slut you are" he said leaning back smirking.

I moaned and started bouncing, he leaned up and grabbed my boobs squeezing and rolling my buds around with his fingers, I moaned and sped up "fuck I'm close" colby moaned. Moving his hand down to rub my clit to get me to finish, I kept going ignoring the pain in my hips ans thighs and I pushed myself over the cliff coming with a scream of colby's name and that lead for him to cum too. I pulled off of him and layer down beside him, as I went to sit up to get dressed thinking this was it he stopped me with a hand on my arm.

"Stay" he said as he yawned I smiled and layed down again, he pulled me into him laying my head on his chest and pulling a leg over his hips. "I love you natalie" he said looking me straight in the eye. He loves me? "You don't mean that" I said hiding my head, "yes I do Natalie, I have loved you for months." Colby replied, "will you be my girlfriend please? We can keep it a secret for as long as you like" he said looking at me, I only nodded and smiled he kissed me then smiled at me "let's keep this from my brother for a while" I said biting my bottom lip. "Too late" colby said I was confused till I saw nate was on colbys phone this entire conversation, "look Natalie I love you, your my sister and I love colby I know he will treat you right" nate said. "Did you guys make up?" I asked they both nodded and I said "ok good but um we are gonna go cause we need to get dressed" I grabbed colbys phone and shut it off.

I turned to colby and kissed him again "round 2 boyfriend?" I asked, "round 2 girlfriend" he replied with a laugh and rolled us over so he was on top, let's just say the rest of the night was amazing.

Hope this was oki it's the first smut I've wrote in nearly 2 years I hope you liked it let me know what other ideas you would like me to do.

[he-died-lottie]

Yellowjackets Band AU Headcanon Part 1

Shauna Shipman X Jackie Taylor background Lottie Mathews x Natalie Scatorccio

summary: The girls are in a band... Jackie struggles with how to cope with Shauna branching out away from her

warnings: Jackie dates jeff, jealousy, homoerotic friendship, no crash, slightly angsty, not proofread

Natalie, Shauna, Misty, Lottie, and Van start a band called “Antler Queens” 🦌.

The idea sparks one day during a conversation about their musical tastes when they realize they all play instruments, and Natalie has an incredible voice, powerful like rock vocals but capable of hitting a killer riff or belt.

Van is, of course, the drummer. Misty surprises everyone as the lead guitarist, and she's amazing. Shauna plays keyboards, thanks to her childhood piano lessons. Lottie plays bass, and Natalie thinks she looks fantastic in her short skirts. Natalie is the lead singer but can also play guitar to add extra depth to their sound.

Their first song is an '80s cover, but they don't vibe with singing about loving men. During a practice session, they all come out to each other, embracing their identities. Wlw for the win.

Shauna asks Jackie to join the band, recalling how she played soccer for her, but Jackie scoffs, “I’m not joining some loser band.”

Shauna hides her hurt and continues with the band anyway.

They practice after soccer or on weekends to avoid neglecting their team commitments.

Despite their efforts, Jackie still complains, needing someone to drive her to the mall. Secretly, she misses Shauna.

Lottie and Nat are always first to arrive at practice, maybe for a few minutes alone together.

On stage, Natalie always seems to be looking back at a certain bassist.

Natalie and Shauna write most of the lyrics, while the rest of the band collaborates on composing the music. Their songs all have a distinctively gay spice.

Shauna is nervous before performances but eases into it once she starts her backup vocals.

Their first gig is at a bar on the outskirts of town.

Shauna invites Jackie, who says she might come if Jeff drives her.

When Shauna steps on stage, she doesn't see Jackie in the crowd, and her heart sinks.

She misses a couple of notes as self-doubt creeps in. But during their third song, she spots Jackie at the back, leaning against Jeff, swaying to the lyrics Shauna wrote about her. Shauna doesn't care that Jeff is there because Jackie showed up.

Jeff starts getting frisky with Jackie, but she swats him away.

“Stop it! Shauna’s singing; I need to hear her.” Shauna’s voice, soft and sweet, blends beautifully with Natalie’s lower tones.

Jackie wants to listen all night but notices people staring at Shauna and leaves before the last song ends.

Shauna doesn't notice until she's off stage and sees Jackie's empty spot. Jackie struggles with her feelings, feeling flustered seeing Shauna so happy, carefree, and hot on stage.

Hearing Shauna sing about a girl using she/her pronouns makes her blush.

Nat and Lottie’s situation heats up, and they sneak off to make out in a bathroom stall during a celebratory drink outing.

Misty notices Lottie's blush during practice and confides, “Someone's got a crush! Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret. I have a secret girlfriend too.”

Neither realizes they both like Nat, who’s been extra kind to Misty.

Misty misinterprets Nat’s kindness as a crush, oblivious to Nat and Lottie’s mutual heart-eyes.

Shauna asks Jackie to more gigs, but Jackie always has excuses, blaming Jeff or homework.

Shauna hides her hurt, while Jackie questions, “Why does seeing my best friend on stage make me want to kiss her?”

This question swirls in Jackie's head, keeping her distant. Shauna thinks Jackie is jealous of her doing something without her.

Finally, Jackie attends another gig without Jeff, hiding in the back where Shauna can’t see her.

The crowd has grown since the last time.

A girl at the bar flirts with Shauna, who politely smiles back, unaware that Jackie is seething with jealousy.

‘How dare Shauna smile at this bimbo when she's mine!’ Jackie thinks, staring daggers at them.

After the show, Jackie is too angry to compliment Shauna.

“You finally came to see us. What did you think?” Shauna asks.

“I liked it until that stupid song about some girl you just met.”

“You think my song is stupid?” Tears form in Shauna’s eyes, but Jackie doesn't stop.

“No—I mean, yes, but—”

“Of course, you think the song I wrote about you is stupid. Typical. You love everything revolving around you, and now this isn’t good enough for you. Save me the pity,” Shauna snaps and storms past Jackie.

“You wrote it about me?” Jackie’s words go unheard as Shauna rushes out, bumping into Nat and Lottie mid-makeout.

“Shit, man! Watch where you’re going—Shauna?!” Nat exclaims.

Nat and Lottie didn’t plan to announce their relationship this way, asking Shauna to keep it secret, but she's too pissed to care.

[k-evans-reads]

In Living Color

Chapter 19

Summary: When Natalie Marton, lead character designer for Buzz Lightyear, meets the voice of Buzz, Chris Evans, the sparks are undeniable. But when their work pushes them away from each other, both physically and emotionally, will the sheer differences between their worlds be enough to force them apart?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Pixar Animator OFC Natalie Marton

Word Count: 3,932

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI.

Previous | Main Masterlist | In Living Color Masterlist

March 18th, 2022

Unfamiliar terrain filled Nat’s eyesight as she stared out the window of the car, taking the sights of Atlanta. It had been a long flight out here after yet another grueling work week but this one seemed a lot more bearable than the last few, knowing that the light at the end of this week was seeing in person that shining smile of the man she loved. 

Nat ran a hand through her wild curls before stretching out her legs that were still a little cramped from the long plane ride before she looked over at the man in the driver's seat and smiled, “Thanks so much for picking me up, Josh.” 

“Happy to do it,” he honestly told her, glancing over at her for a moment before he chuckled, “Besides, having you here means I won’t have Chris moping around all weekend so honestly you being here is a service to me.” 

Although Nattie hated to hear of anything dampening Chris’ mood, she was happy to know that he had been as downtrodden about their separation as she had been. Nat had struggled a lot more than she realized but tried to push it all from her head, muttering. “I’m just happy I’m finally getting out of my office and remembering there’s an outside world.” 

“Are you still working like crazy? I know Chris has been kind of worried about how much you’re working,” Josh spoke with a raised eyebrow. 

Hearing it almost made Nat want to roll her eyes, knowing that this wasn’t the first time Chris had voiced his unhappiness about her workload but she just justified it with, “It’s just a busy season. But I’m so glad I was able to get today off so I could come out here. I’ve never actually gotten to see Chris filming.” 

“Don’t get your hopes too high, it’s not that entertaining,” Josh retorted, making Nat burst into laughter as they kept driving along the highway. 

Although she loved the way that Chris’ lifelong best friend teased him, she knew that his words wouldn’t be quite true for her. In their nearly year of dating, she had gotten to see him record his lines for his Lightyear voicework and see the fruition of his hard work in his films, but never had she gotten to observe him while acting. 

When they arrived at the set, she only got to steal a quick kiss from him before the director talked to the crew as Josh and Nat moved over to the side, blending into the background and staying out of the way before they got ready to run the scene. Nat quietly stood as her eyes fixed on Chris, just silently watching him as she watched him shed himself and took on a brand new persona. She had gotten to see him transform during Lightyear as he acted in the booth but this was different. Nat remembered him talking about how challenging voice acting had been, not able to work off of anyone else and for the first time she truly got to see him shine in his working element, seeing the easy way that he carried himself as he worked. 

Being apart had been so hard, the two hardly able to see each other since filming had started on Valentine’s Day. She had gotten to spend the long President’s Day weekend with him in Boston and had been able to see him shortly when he’d come to Los Angeles for a weekend for a bachelor party but it was a far cry from how used to being together they were, falling into the groove of living life together. 

But now they were finally back together, even if it was only for a weekend, but once his arms were wrapped around her Nat felt like everything was right with the world. They just soaked in getting to hold one another for a long moment until finally pulling apart enough to press their lips together as passionately as they could with so many people surrounding them as the cast and crew were all headed in different directions. 

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Chris’ voice was soft as he looked down into her eyes. 

“Me too,” she could feel her smile shining from ear to ear before Chris’ arm snaked around her shoulders as they walked through the busy set. “I’m glad I got here in time to watch you film.” 

“I don’t know if I am because then you’ll see what a shit actor I really am," he laughed while squeezing her a little tighter. 

“I knew that already,” Nat teased him, earning a slap to his chest as he roared with his hysterical laughter and she was reminded just how much she missed that. 

The two chatted non-stop as they went to the costume trailer where Nat waited outside as Chris got out of his costume and makeup and emerged in his illegally tight white tee shirt and sweats. Almost immediately she was tucked back under his arm as they walked together toward a trailer down at the end of the line where Chris held open the door and let Nat walk in before following her inside. 

After the door of the trailer was shut behind them, the pair were finally alone for the first time in much too long. The separation between them had been a lot harder on each of them than they’d even realized but especially for Nat. She wasn’t used to being separated for so long and it was something she thought would be a little easier than it had been. Every time she faced another night alone or weekend without hearing that familiar loud laughter, she felt her heart dropping a little. 

Nat had thrown herself into her work even more, focusing on her artwork and although it helped get her mind off of missing Chris, it had caused her to be more burned out than she had imagined. But now she finally was here with him. She could finally breathe in his scent and feel his hand rubbing up and down her arm as he stepped closer and lowly said, “I missed you so fucking much, Nattie.” 

The look in those blue eyes of his gazing at her from under those long eyelashes had her getting weak at the knees. She couldn’t resist being able to finally wrap her arms around him, feeling the firm muscles of his back underneath his soft white tee shirt as his arms came around her waist and caged her in. In an instant his mouth was on hers, kissing Nat completely senseless as she started feeling dizzy, needing nothing more in this moment than him. 

She loved him so fully, so completely that she couldn’t wait a second longer to pull away, breathless as she whispered, “I love you, Chris.” The moment was so intense, both of them so desperate for one another and their chest heaving as they tried to catch their breath, but that one statement from her seemed to stop everything. Nat was still pressed up against him as he lifted his head, his tender eyes looking down at her as he reminded her, “I love you too, Nat. So much.” 

And as if Nat wasn’t already feeling lightheaded enough, those words sent waves of emotions straight to her heart while Chris’ lips attached to her neck as she melted into him. Their lips kept finding one another’s, kissing over and over again while each of their hands grasped at any bit of each other that they could as they stumbled toward the tiny bedroom in the trailer, clothes being peeled off and discarded as they went. 

Chris couldn’t have moved faster if he tried, and before Nat knew it he had her laying back on the bed and was buried deep inside her. Her left hand came up to grab his cheek as her right hand moved down to cup his firm ass, and Nat found herself emotional at being able to finally see that gorgeous face of his in person instead of across a phone screen. They were finally back together and nothing felt better. 

They just held each other’s eye contact for a long moment before Nat saw Chris’ eyes flutter closed as he leaned down to kiss her deeply and she felt herself clench around him from the deep love she felt, making Chris have to pull away from her lips to groan from the feeling. Nat felt so good, overwhelmed by the feeling of having him buried deep inside her while her hand reached up to run through his brown hair while he littered kisses across her chest. They were so in love and so happy in this moment and their arms came around each other to cling tightly together while Chris’ hips started moving in and out at a slow loving pace. 

“Oh god, Chris. Fuck, you feel so good,” she whimpered as her body curled up into his, her left hand trailing down his back to rest on his firm ass, giving it a good squeeze right as he thrust into her. 

“Love you so fuckin’ much Nat,” Chris grunted, pressing a sweet kiss to her neck before his hips continued to slowly rock in and out. “I missed you. I missed feeling you.” 

Nat felt herself melting underneath him, unable to even respond to him with just how incredible he was stretching her out. Both Chris and Nat were just soaking in this glorious moment, wrapped up in the comfort of having each other in their arms once again. The only sounds in the trailer were their pants, their normal running dialogue and praises were silenced, both just too overwhelmed by the love and emotions they both were feeling. Eventually when Chris heard Nat’s sweet whimpers, he picked up his pace, burying his face in her neck to nuzzle a few kisses, his firm sweaty chest pressed against hers, allowing Nat to feel his quick heartbeat. 

“Chris please, baby I need to feel you,” Nat urged him breathlessly, her hands grasping at those broad shoulders. 

Nat was too wrapped up in keeping her own breathing at bay that she didn’t realize that Chris was barely hanging on already but hearing her words nearly drove him over the edge. She whimpered when he lifted his chest up a bit, leaving space between them before he dropped his hand down between them, changing to slower little thrusts as he let his thumb find her sensitive clit, rubbing quick tight circles while he encouraged her, “C’mon baby, let go. I wanna see that gorgeous face you make. I wanna feel you squeeze me, Nattie.” 

The white hot heat was pulsing through her and Nat couldn’t help it, letting her body release as her smooth walls gripped Chris so tight a long obscene moan poured from his lips. He held onto her hips tightly, keeping himself fully seated inside her as his essence filled her. Nat felt like she was going to pass out when her eyelids fluttered open and she looked up, seeing Chris’ eyes shut tight, his mouth hanging open as he panted and a few dark hairs hanging over his sweaty forehead as he tried to regain his breathing. 

Needing to feel him close, Nat reached up to grab the gold St. Christopher’s medallion around his neck and gave it a gentle tug, silently telling him what she wanted. Feeling weak as he still recovered, he practically collapsed on top of her small frame, careful to keep his weight on the mattress so he didn’t hurt her. Nat wrapped a leg around his firm behind, her arms holding onto him tightly while he nuzzled his face back to the crook of her neck, his beard prickling her skin that his lips soothed with gentle kisses. 

It had been too long, much too long, since they had gotten to have moments like this and neither were ready to let go just yet. As much as they wanted to just stay together in the glow of that moment, they eventually pulled themselves from the bed and took a quick shower, both changing into their comfortable clothes before walking hand in hand to where Chris’ car was parked. 

They happily caught up as they drove home, Chris filling her in on all the little things that had happened the past few days when they hadn’t had much time to talk. As much as Nat loved to listen to his animated stories, she loved being able to see him in person, getting to run her hand along his back once they had gotten to his temporary place during filming, laughing as she kept dropping things while they cooked dinner and hearing that loud laugh. Just getting to physically be together made all the different for Nat, feeling more happy and centered than she had in a long time. 

As they ate dinner, a comfortable silence fell upon them before settling into their routine of cleaning up, Nat washing dishes while Chris dried but even that felt good. Nat was exhausted, the past couple of months at work draining her but none of that seemed to matter now. Not while she was with him, reminding her of all the things in life that really mattered. 

Just as Nat had shut off the running water and handed Chris the last plate to wipe dry, she caught the look in his eye, seeing a softness there before he leaned in for a soft kiss, his hand that wasn’t holding the dishrag rubbing along her arm as he revealed, “I’m so glad you’re here, Nattie.” 

“I think you mentioned that before," she just couldn’t help but tease him, bumping her hip against his before drying off her hands. 

“Well I’m going to mention it again because I mean it,” Chris called over his shoulder as he put the plate away in the cabinet, then turning to toss the rag onto the counter so his hands could be free to grasp at her hips and pull her into him, “I’m just really happy you were able to come this weekend. I’m sorry I only have the weekend off.” 

Nat just shrugged as her arms wrapped around his neck loosely, her fingers toying with the ends of his fluffy brown hair while acknowledging, “I doubt I would have been able to stay any longer than the weekend anyway. I have to be at the daily on Monday morning, so it actually works out well.”  

“Sounds like you’re still really busy at work,” Chris’ eyebrow rose. 

Her arms fell from around his neck before trudging over toward the couch, scratching Dodger on the way by before curling up onto the cushions as she countered, “You’re gone anyway so I might as well work a lot.” 

“You already were working a lot before.” 

“There’s just a lot going on right now,” she tried to remind him as he made his own way to the couch, coming to sit near her, angling his body toward her as his thick arm came to rest across the top of the couch cushions. 

“When won’t there be though, Nattie? It seems like you’re always swamped with work these days.” 

Nat knew that part of what he was saying was true. Lately there weren’t many days that weren’t crazy busy but the other part of her knew that he didn’t understand. Chris never had a conventional job. He didn’t understand the type of job where so many things depend on others, deadlines, and going through the grind of putting in hours everyday, then sending off the latest pieces for approval before making the countless adjustments as requested. It wasn’t that his job wasn’t challenging or didn’t take work, but she knew that his view of time off was extremely different from hers. If he needed a break, he had the ability to take one, but if she needed a break and didn’t work, it would mean getting fired and only having enough savings to last a short time. 

She knew that her job had been a point of contention lately, both of them struggling with the separation they were both facing and the heavy workload causing a lot of extra stress for her but she just didn’t want to start the weekend out this way. Nat got such limited time with him now that she didn’t want to get into something that would cause an argument and ended up reaching over to rest a hand on his thigh, conveying, “Chris, I’m really not trying to be dismissive but I don’t want to talk about work. I just want to focus on us being together.” 

It looked as if the wheels in his brain were churning as he sat there for a moment. It was obvious there was more he wanted to say, more behind what he was feeling but ultimately deciding to drop it and agreed, “You’re right, let’s forget about work.” He took her hand from his sweatpant covered thigh and pressed a kiss in her palm before saying,  “Although the one work thing I am happy about is the Lightyear premiere because then I know I’ll get you for almost an entire week while I’m in LA.” 

“I always get emotional at premieres because of getting to see the culmination of years of animation that we’ve worked on but this one is going to be even more emotional,” Nat already knew that this one film held so many more emotions than normal not only because of so much more work that she’d poured into it, but because of the relationship it’d brought to her life. “I already know I’ll be crying like a baby.” 

“Why? I thought I didn’t even make your top three favorite voice actors?” Chris couldn’t help but tease with that sideways smile on his face. 

“Well I’ve kind of grown partial to you.” 

“You better have,” he chuckled softly as he playfully shoved her shoulder gently before his tone shifted and she saw his eyes sparkling in the dim lights as Chris asked, “Is your family still planning on coming to the premiere?” 

Nat bubbled with laughter, knowing that was a rhetorical question. Her family had been buzzing about this for so long and she rested her own elbow on the back of the couch, her hand coming to prop up her cheek as she informed him, “Oh yeah, they’re so excited. The last one they came to was Inside Out so Ella doesn’t even remember it, and then Lily and Carson weren’t even born. Zach and Alex weren’t even married yet so this will be Zach’s first premiere too.” 

“And the first one where you’ve been the lead character design too, right?” 

“Yeah so you’re going to have to give me red carpet lessons,” Nat smiled, having a hard time in this moment understanding that as he sat there in his worn tee shirt and black sweatpants while he laughed and teased her, that he was the same guy as the man who stood on red carpets posing for the hundreds of photographers calling his name. 

“I’m not the person to ask, I’m on and off that shit as fast as humanly possible,” he tipped his head back with a laugh before turning it lazily to look at her with a hand reaching over to rest on her knee, “But you’re right, this is going to be a special one. My family is already pumped about coming.” 

“I’m so glad I’ll get to see your family again. I loved getting to spend more time with them when I came out to Boston last month,” she mused while her thoughts drifted back to the President’s Day weekend when she had been able to take that Friday off, giving her almost four full days visiting him in Boston and spending time with his family that she hadn’t gotten to see enough of, including finally getting to meet his father and the rest of his family members for a few quick hours. 

Being in Boston for only the second time had allowed her to see that other side of Chris. That completely unguarded and calm self, being completely comfortable and at ease. It wasn’t that he wasn’t ever like that when they were alone, or when he had come to Washington to be with her and her family, but seeing him in his beloved and true home let her see such a beautiful side of him that they both had needed to endure these long stretches apart. 

With a point of his finger and a loud cackle, Chris told her, “Carly still wants to get even on Monopoly so we’ll have to break that out while they’re here.” 

“Are they going to stay with you when they come?” Nat wondered, slipping her hand into his and just enjoying getting to have those soft touches as they talked. 

“Well, I was actually thinking about renting them an AirBnB or getting a few hotel rooms for them all to stay at so I could invite your family to stay at my place,” he shrugged, eyes glancing over to where Dodger had wandered in with a toy in his mouth. 

“Chris, that’s so sweet but you don’t need to do that. I don’t want that to take away from you having time with your family,” Nat was quick to speak up, not wanting him to feel like he needed to prioritize her family over his but when his blue eyes came back to meet hers, she knew it was anything but that. 

He just shook his head before leaning in to steal a quick kiss, settling back into the cushions as her legs came to drape over his lap. Chris’ hand wandered up and down her thigh covered in the black leggings she was wearing as he insisted, “I want to, Nattie. I get plenty of time with my family and still will that week, but I want your family to be able to spread out and have a comfortable place to stay, especially with having the younger kids and baby Jack.” 

“You’re so thoughtful it’s almost sickening,” Nat laughed as he blushed softly from her teasing praise. “You’re seriously going to be the kids’ favorite person because they still talk about your pool to this day.” 

He held up his hands in defense, stating, “Hey as long as I’m winning them over, that’s all that matters.” 

“You’ve won them over a long time ago,” Nat knew how true that was. There wasn’t hardly one FaceTime that she had with those three kids that she loved so much without them asking or saying something about Chris. They’d all fallen in love with him over the Thanksgiving week that he’d spent with them but Nat knew that all of it paled in comparison to how much she loved him. How much she truly, deeply, purely loved him. “Besides, they all know I’m not planning on letting you go anytime soon.” 

“Well I’m happy to hear that because that means we’re on the same page.” 

And Nat knew that they truly were. Neither one had to guess how the other felt, wondering if their love was returned just as deeply or if the other was just as committed. Despite the strain of work and struggling to see eye to eye in certain moments about it, they knew that at the base of everything was nothing but love for each other and nothing felt better than that. 

A/N: We'll be back next week with a new chapter! We wanted to let you guys know (in case you hadn't seen it already!) that we are taking the week of 4/27 off from posting due to our schedules then. We both are very busy then and wouldn't be around to handle the postings!

[daydreamgoddess14]

Aspirations pt.1

Hopefully you can look past the rubbish title and summary enough to give this a go!

It started as me coming up with a 'one bed situation' but I've expanded it a little to probably 3-4 chapters in total.

I've only done a couple of very short pieces for this fandom so far so I'd love to know your thoughts! Be kind! 😘

Sydcarmy Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Sydney Adamu / Carmy Berzatto

Syd is 12 months deep in a crush, Carmy is 6 months into a relationship he doesn't want, The Bear is 4 months open and Nat is 2 months into motherhood....

~~~~~~~

Syd didn't know why she'd said yes. Nat had asked, and while her brain went to say 'no thanks', her heart saw the look of desperation on Natalie's face, and a 'yes, of course' popped out instead. Nat even had her minor guilt trip lined up. 

"... I mean, I haven't had any real adult company since the baby was born, and I just -"

"Nat, I said yes."

"For real?"

"Sure, why not. Wait - is Claire invited?"

"Oh god, no. Just us and Tiff."

"Richie's ex?" Nat nodded. 

"Yep. Just some drinks at home, so I'm around if I'm needed. Maybe a couple slices of Marcus's cake?"

"I'll bring you some food."

"You're an angel. Does Carm know you've been keeping my fridge stocked for the last 3 months?" Syd shrugged,

"If he does, he hasn't said anything." They sat in the closed restaurant, Nat feeding baby Mikey while Syd went through the books with her. Carmy was… late. "Where the fuck is he anyway?" Nat clipped her bra back into place and lifted the baby to her shoulder. Every Friday between lunch and dinner service, they did the books together.

"Good question." Syd murmured, eyes on her calculator. "We need to start putting some money aside for Thanksgiving and Christmas promos."

"On it. I need you guys to confirm the festive menu by the 15th, please. We go to print on the 19th, delivery by the end of the month ready to take bookings throughout October."

"Wow, you are still, like, smashing it." Syd says, impressed. 

"I gotta do something during those 3 am feeds other than shopping." She reasoned, heaving the baby over to her other shoulder. 

"Here," Syd stood and held out her hands so Nat could gratefully pass him over. She'd not been around too many babies and was terrified the first time she'd held him. Richie had ribbed her about it in the weeks prior - so much so that she hadn't actually held the baby in company other than Natalie. She rocked gently from side to side, hearing little Mikey's snores in her ear. Nat read through the books and the notes left by Syd and/or Carmy.

"Hey, did I tell you what Uncle Jimmy did?" Syd didn't stop her gentle movement but turned to face Natalie better,

"No?"

"So we each own 33%, right, and Jimmy had the 1% leftover? Well he's gifted it to Mikey. The baby bear is already earning."

"That's dope, I'm still gonna make him do the dishes as soon as he's old enough though. He's gotta earn that paycheck." Syd smiled down as Mikey's eyes drifted shut. 

*

"Hey, fuck, sorry I'm late." He pushed through the swing doors, stopping at the sight of Syd swaying with the baby in her arms. 

"Too late, Carm, we're fucking done now." Nat teased, "good job someone is pulling their weight around here. And giving my arms a break." 

"He's asleep, where'd you want him?"

"You've got the magic touch." Nat took him carefully and transferred him to the car seat. Carmy squatted down for a closer look, 

"I missed out."

"Shoulda been here in time," Nat warned, "I've got a night shift going if you're -"

"No. No thanks sis, I don't get enough sleep as it is."

"Makes two of us."

"Makes three of us." Syd laughed. Carmy kissed Mikey's forehead and stood to pull his sister into a hug while Syd knelt down to tuck the blanket around Mikey and brush a finger over his milk drunk cheeks. 

"I'll let you know when's good?" Nat confirmed to Syd with a hug before letting Carmy lift the heavy car seat and take it out to her car. "Bye Uncle Bear, bye Auntie Syd!" She singsongs. By the time Carmy has returned, Syd is making sure the paperwork is filed correctly and clearing the table they've used. 

"Coffee? Probably too cold now."

"Unlikely, no such thing." He takes the mug and finishes most of it in one go making her grimace. 

"That's gross."

"You ate doughnut off the floor." He counters, she has no argument. "You and Nat planning something?" 

"Just Thanksgiving and Christmas."

"We need a menu."

"We do. I have some potential dishes down but I gotta link them with the theme or some shit." He raises an eyebrow, "Nat's idea. I'm not naming dishes after reindeer or any bullshit like that." 

"Got it. Wanna work on it Monday?"

"You got time?"

"Always." This time, Syd looked incredulous. "I mean it." She nodded slowly, 

"Heard, Chef."

"What'd you make for them this week?" He asked, holding out his hands for the paperwork folder. Syd froze, "C’mon Syd, you think I don't know you've been batch cooking for Nat and Pete for months?" She breaks into a smile, 

"Just easy stuff, chilli, casserole."

"Let me know when you're makin' more and I'll do some as well."

"Oh, I got it under control. You're busy with… like, Claire and this place. I only have this place so…" She trailed off with a limp shrug. 

"Well, you don't have to do it either -" He tried to interject. 

"Nat's been good to me. She's the only other voice of sanity around here." At that, Carmy feigned a look of hurt which made Syd snort with laughter. "Do not - do not - try and claim otherwise!"

"And here I thought we were partners."

"We are. Which is why I can't complain to you about you." She grinned and Carmy returned it with ease. Over a year of working together, 4 months since The Bear had opened, and she'd finally gotten to a point where she only felt awkward approximately 60% of the time, which was a solid win. With time, communication between them had significantly improved. The only downsides currently were his time management when it came to Claire and the raging crush Sydney had developed on Carmy over the course of the last year. The crush was the main/only reason her awkwardness level remained so high. 

"You can, y'know. I want to know if there's something I need to do better. I told you, you gotta let me know if I'm fucking up." She caught her lower lip in her teeth. He was doing that thing again, standing frustratingly close and looking at her with those ocean eyes. 

"You need to stop being late. That's the second time Nat and I have had to go through the books alone, and there's stuff in there that you're closer to than us. I'm the shit, Carm, but I can't read your mind. No matter how hard I try." She jokes. He nods sincerely. 

"Heard. I'll do better, I promise." He paused, "when'd you start holding the baby anyway?"

"Literally the first time I didn't have you and Richie watching me like a hawk." She laughed, "If you'd been around, you'd know that I am his number one Auntie."

"That so?"

"I get all the smiles, all the giggles. Me and baby Mikey are like that -" she holds up her crossed fingers, "you can't compete with a love like ours." She teases.

"Nat likes you better too, s'ok maybe the Fak's will take me in. Or T."

"Dude, T would mother the shit outta you!" She exclaimed.

"Already does. You two gonna be OK tomorrow?"

"So you and Richie can play fucking hooky? Yeah, yeah, I remembered. We all good."

"Sure?"

"Yes, Chef."

"Syd?"

"Carm, babe, Tina and I will be fine. We have everyone else here, I got Nat on front of house, we're gonna smash it." He was about to call her out on calling him babe, but they'd finished clearing up just as everyone else started arriving for dinner service and chaos soon descended. The rest of the day passed without incident. The following morning, Syd and Tina had the crew prepping for a busy lunch service while Richie and Carmy flitted in and out of the kitchen, filling up the car for their catering event. Syd took her break outside while they finished off, 

"I'm gonna get some smokes." Richie called out, already halfway down the alley. Carmy moved towards Syd,

"If you ask one more time if I'm sure, I'm gonna give you a black eye." She warned. He held his hands up, 

"Just checking in."

"You've already done that. We'll be fine."

"I'll keep my phone on. You need anything, you'll call?"

"What're you gonna do from across town?"

"Yo, cousin!" Richie shouted from the sidewalk, "bring the car down." 

"Call me."

"Just fucking go, we're good." She hopped down from the pallets with the intention of pushing him as he continued to hesitate. 

"Carmen!" Richie bellowed again, turning to talk to Natalie who'd just arrived out front. 

"Festive menus Monday?" He asked, 

"Yes, Chef. Go!" He nodded once, took half a step closer and kissed her gently on the lips before turning and running to the car. He was pulling out onto the street before she'd had time to register the kiss at all. 

*

Two miles down the road, Carmy stopped at a red light and his brain reactivated. 

"Holy fucking shit." He muttered, staring straight ahead. 

"What'dya forget?" Richie asked, looking up from his phone. Carmy thought fast,

"Uhh napkins." Richie tsked,

"I picked em up you fucking dipshit." He laughed, shoving Carmy's shoulder. "Good job one of us knows what the fuck is goin on cuz. You gotta stop thinkin bout Clairebear all the time, man." Carmy barked a short laugh,

"Yeah, Claire." He agreed, still thinking about Syd's easy smile and soft lips. 

~~~~~~

[valyalyon]

January-July, 2025

Ayooo errybody :) Continuing from December 20 and 25, 2024 , this is mostly all fluff for Raphael and Dolores during D's pregnancy. Jan 19 for cravings March 3 gender reveal April 9 Raphael's birthday + Julius confrontation May 27 family picnic July 10 maternity photo shoot + foreshadowing

For more, including SMUT, see below. DIE MASTER LIST OR #LYONDIE DIVIDERS

January 19, 2025.

By mid-January, the pregnancy cravings were really doubling down...

CW: Mentions and descriptions of pregnancy symptoms and experience. It isn't super detailed, but still might make someone uncomfortable, so I did want to mention it <3 No sexual content, no violence, no drug use. 1.2k words

...I woke up feeling starved that morning, and went to the kitchen right after checking on Theo.

Raphael was getting up, too, but he had gone to the bathroom.

My craving that morning was chocolate covered strawberries. Now, let me explain something. And don’t judge me. I don’t like chocolate, so we definitely weren’t going to have any chocolate covered strawberries in the fridge.

When it hit me that I had no way of having my craving, I immediately started to cry like a baby. This pregnancy was way harder on me emotionally than I had expected.

Raphael came into the kitchen and quickly rushed to my side when he saw I was crying, “what happened? Are you okay?”

“I woke up craving chocolate covered strawberries and I want them so badly but we don’t have chocolate because I hate chocolate,” I said everything so quickly, sobbing as he pulled me into a hug.

Summer's gone, but you can be my winter loving. Summer's gone, but you can be mine.

“I’m not going to ask right now, I’ll get you chocolate and fresh strawberries. Do you want milk or dark chocolate?” He asked, rubbing my back as I cried into him.

“Milk, please,” I choked out in between cries.

“Okay, I’m gonna get it, but you wipe away those pretty tears, Doll, you’re hurting my heart,” he used his thumbs to wipe some tears off my cheeks.

I nodded my head, wiping my eyes as my lip still trembled.

The world stops spinning when you open your eyes, my darling.

March 3, 2025.

Towards the end of February, Raphael and I had gone to the doctor and the doctor had written down the gender of the baby in a letter. I gave the letter to Catalina, my childhood best friend.

On March 3, our families and our closest friends, came over to our home for what they thought would be a late dinner to celebrate our wedding.

Raphael had invited his parents, his older siblings, his best friend Marcus, and Julius. I had invited my parents, my little sister, and my friends Catalina, Natalie and Sara.

Once everyone arrived, we all stood around talking in the living area. Theo was playing with J’s son, Anthony. Raphael cleared his throat, “actually… this isn’t a dinner for our wedding…”

There was a confused silence.

Raphael placed his hand on my tummy, flattening my dress over the bump, “Dolores has a little baby here, and she’s due to give birth end of July.”

Everyone erupted into congratulations, except for Catalina who broke off from the group to go to her bag. She came back with cards for everyone, and waited.

‘We didn’t just want to announce my pregnancy. We also wanted to find out the gender with all of you,” I smiled, thanking everyone for their kind words.

Catalina happily handed out the scratch cards that she had gotten made, and she was smiling ear to ear.

Everyone took their card and we all crowded the dining room table, putting our cards down and beginning to scratch together.

Natalie was the first to finish scratching, so excited to hear I was pregnant again, and she squealed when she saw, “Dolores! Theo’s going to have a little…”

Raphael, Julius, my sister, and Raphael’s mother, shouted at the same time as they all finished scratching, “brother!”

April 9, 2025.

I planned a 26th birthday party for Raphael, inviting all his closest friends and family to our home. I invited Catalina and Natalie too, so I’d have help with everything. I was 25 weeks pregnant and my mobility wasn’t terrible, but I definitely couldn’t run the party alone.

I was glad I had invited my friends, because when the party was winding down, Julius came up to me while I was apart from Raphael.

“You think I could talk to you?” Julius asked, semi-casually, but there was a hint of anxiety in his voice.

I made eye contact with Catalina, and she left quickly to get Raphael, I turned my attention back to the dishes I was in the middle of, “About what exactly?”

“The baby, uh… your pregnancy?” Julius shifted and got closer to me, just as Raphael entered the kitchen.

“Julius,” Raphael’s voice was tense, and I was worried he was going to rage out on his birthday, but he seemed to be keeping his cool.

“I just have a question,” Julius said, his attention on Raphael now.

“What exactly would that be?” Raphael asked just as I finished the dishes.

I turned toward the two men, they were staring at each other with each face showing clear irritation over the situation. I was always so confused about why Raphael insisted on inviting Julius to things if he continuously would get mad at him.

Julius turned his expression to me, “does he know?”

I looked at him utterly confused, “does he know what?”

Julius groaned and finally spoke his mind, “you two announced that the baby is due at the end of July. I had unprotected sex with Dolores the week he would have been conceived.”

Raphael was about to speak, but Julius continued, “are you sure that he’s Raphael’s son, Dolly?” His eyes were on mine.

I turned my eyes back to Raphael’s, but he wasn’t looking at me. His face and eyes were dark and unreadable. I’d never seen him so angry.

“Yes, we are absolutely sure that he is my son,” Raphael said, his voice so sharp that I felt personally cut by it. His expression was cold as he stared at Julius, “Man, I still want to be your friend, however… Dolores is my wife. Do not call her any pet names, and do not speak to her without me around.”

Julius nodded his head, “you’re right, Ralph. Sorry for overstepping.”

“You got your question answered. Don’t ever bring that up again,” Raphael led him out of the kitchen.

May 27, 2025.

I got orange blossoms in the air right now. Smells so sweet, until they hit the ground.

We took Theo to Papago Park for some much needed time in the sun. We took turns playing with Theo, and on Raphael’s turns, I would look into baby names for our son.

I won't save my breath for another day, 'cause the wind might come and blow them all away.

By the end of our family picnic, Raphael and I had a list of about 10 names that we liked. I had made a list of about 30, but there was a lot of back and forth and we crossed out so many names.

I can't think of anything I wanted more than to see the colors of my seasons change.

Still, the name we ended up picking for our son was actually on that 10 name list.

July 10, 2025.

I was nearly 39 weeks pregnant when Raphael booked a maternity shoot for me. We went out into the desert with the photographer and I wore a red gown.

In between photos, Raphael and I would talk back and forth, and it was during one of those conversations that I said, “you know, I really don’t think he’s going to come on his due date.”

“Do you think he’s going to come early?” Raphael asked, touching my belly.

“I wish, but no… I really don’t think he will. I really don’t know why I feel this way, but I think he’s coming in August,” I placed my fingers over Raphael’s for another photo.

“This is going to be such a long pregnancy for you,” Raphael spoke after the photo had been taken.

“Yeah, but he’s worth it.”

“100%.”

SONG REFERENCES Summer's Gone by NoMBe, Thutmose Orange Blossoms by GoldFord

[nyxlaufeyson]

36 Questions

Main Masterlist - Marvel Oneshots - Loki Oneshots

POV: Third

Ship: Loki [Marvel]/Judith Ford [36 Questions](you could also read it as loki/Original female character)

Type: Ima go with angst but also kind of fluff?

Wordcount: 1,669

TW: Alcohol, old lies being dug up

Synopsis: Loki found out that his wife of two years has been lying about her identity, and their therapist suggests a game of thirty-six questions in an attempt to save their marriage.

A/N: So, I'm a nerd and I was like, what if I put Judith and Loki together, Loki in the place of Jase?! And I love it. It's perfect. It may not be many peoples thing, but I figured I'd share it and maybe, just maybe, someone will like it. Liar meets liar? Tell me i'm not the only musical and marvel nerd here.

You CAN go into this fandom-blind for either!!! I would advise you to go listen to the podcast musical [36 Questions] though, it's really good!!! ANYWAYS: ENJOY!

Also I posted this on AO3 back in April but idk maybe some of you here want to read it. Again, it's okay if you don't know who Judith is. Pretend she's an OC.

Loki sat down awkwardly on his sofa, glass in his hand. Judith lounged in a chair across from him, twirling her hair in her fingers. They had hit a break in the conversation, Loki letting his mind wander. 

Judith smiled as she watched Loki eye her. “For the record-” She started, snapping Loki out of his gaze. “Hm?” Loki mumbled, bringing his eyes back up to hers, causing her to chuckle. 

“For the record what?” Loki asked, eyes tired from the information the past day had brought him. Judith looked at him, smirking. “You just undressed me with your eyes.” She said, and Loki was taken aback.

“I did not.” He scoffed, and Judith raised her eyebrow. “You did.” Loki broke eye contact, looking at the wall. “I- I looked at your shirt.” He lied, and Judith tilted her head a little. “Let it be known that sparks flew.” She said, sultry.

“No sparks. No sparks. For the record-” He said, defending himself. “-for the record, my eyes just happened to glance down at Natalie’s shirt-” “Judith.” She corrected him, causing him to pause for a moment. 

“At Judith’s shirt because it’s completely see-through! And her nips are like, totally out there for everyone to see.” Loki finished, a grunt sounding from the floor, where Loki’s alligator, Henry, lay. 

“So they are…” Judith amidited, looking at the alligator. “So you see how that could be awkward.” Loki justified himself, still avoiding looking at her.

“Right. Because it’s like, ‘Whose tits are these, anyway?’” Judith joked, grabbing a glass of alcohol and taking a sip. 

Loki looked at her again, sighing. “You’re jesting, but actually-” He started, but Judith overtook him. “Are you going to let me borrow a shirt?” She asked, nonchalantly. 

Loki narrowed his eyes on her, thinking. “Wait. Was this part of your plan?” He half-asked, half-accused. 

Judith scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Lokes. I made this storm happen, because I’m an X-Man now. Is your stuff upstairs? Assuming the roof hasn’t blown off?” She stood up, gesturing to the stairs. 

“Second door on the left. Third drawer in the dresser. Please don’t poke around.” He said, and Judith began in the direction he had told her. “I left my phone down there as collateral. Feel free to toss it out the window if you catch me snooping.” She yelled out, disappearing. 

“Okay, but hurry up, please. I don’t have all night to do the questions. And I’d like to be up at a reasonable time tomorrow morning. I have a lot of stuff to…” He called, running his fingers through his raven hair. “...burn to the ground.” He finished by himself, whispering. 

The alligator began to rustle around, grunting. “Just- I don’t want to hear it, Henry, okay? You saw how I tried to deflect. She’s unstoppable.” Loki defended himself to his pet, annoyed when the doorbell cut in, endlessly ringing until it cut out. 

“Thank you, doorbell. Glad to hear you weigh in on this too.” Loki sighed, rubbing his forehead. “35 questions.” He got up to go get a bottle of whiskey, popping the cork and pouring some into his glass. “I’m not gonna get through four.” 

Loki leaned onto the counter, taking a sip of the drink. “For the record this is self-destructive, for the record I’m aware of that. For the record I’ve been picturing her body, draped over the sofa wearing nothing but her hat-” He looked at the sofa, imagining Judith’s body plastered over it. “-For the record…” he hummed, looking back down. “I’m screwed.”

He went to another cabinet, unconsciously grabbing plates and silverware. “For the record this can still go my way, for the record I can keep my pride.” He said, gathering his confidence. “All I have to do is keep us focused on the questions, each one of her responses will remind me how she lied…” He trailed off, getting an idea. “That’s the answer!” He said, humming in realization. “That’s what I’ll do…” 

“I’ll use the thirty-six, thirty-six, thirty-six, thirty-six, questions as a life line.” He said, standing up. “And of course I have sympathy for the pathological liar who did this to me, and yes I admit, I wish I could touch her…” He glanced back to the couch, before refocusing himself as he set out the plates and silverware. 

“Bu the questions will make one thing clear: there’s nothing left of my old life to spare, no matter how much I may-” He quieted as he heard footsteps, leaning himself back onto the counter. 

“Ta-da!” Judith said, smiling. “What’s up?” Loki asked, a bit alarmed. “What do you think?” She asked, posing. “About what?” Loki asked, oblivious, still caught off guard. This whole night had caught him off guard. 

“My jersey. Go Sea Wolves!” Judith cheered, and Loki realized his jersey was covering her torso. “Yeah, haha… Go Sea Wolves.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway… I was just setting the table here. I don’t know why I did that. That’s weird.” He said, looking at the table. 

“It makes perfect sense to me.” Judith said with a shrug, smiling. “It’s kind of like a weird… first date! Which is why we really ought to have more booze…” She said, looking up at Loki with her gorgeous, tempting eyes. 

“I have whiskey-” He said, gesturing to the bottle he had just popped. “-But, um, did you- did you want wine?” He asked, scratching his head. “Do you have wine?” 

“Yeah. The glass shattered on the chiller last night, but I think the reds are okay. I’ll just uh- yeah, I’ll get them. I’ll be right back.” Loki said, walking towards another door, before turning to the alligator. “Stay with Judith, Henry.” He said before exiting. 

Judith smiled and crouched down to the alligator. “Hey, Henry. I can’t imagine all the horrible stuff you’ve heard about me.” She said, standing back up and walking towards the counter. Henry crawled towards her, and she smiled. 

“Well, it’s all true.” She said, sighing as the alligator crawled up to her feet. “But you don’t seem like the type of alligator who holds a grudge.” She said, picking up the bottle lying on the counter. “You’re not a whiskey drinker, are you?” She asked, earning no response from the creature. 

“No… You keep your wits about you. I like that.” Judith poured herself a glass of whiskey, welcoming the pungent smell into her nose. 

“For the record I did not expect this. I really thought that it would be a harder sell. I came up with this plan at 4 a.m. on Interstate 10, how was I to know that it would work so well? For the record…” Judith looked back to the alligator, a sad smile plaguing her lips. 

“I haven’t thought a lot about the way I’ll answer. I guess I’m still afraid that I might lie. If only I could make him see, if I was given the choice: Of telling him the truth or sticking knives into my eyes- I’d pick the knives.” Judith hummed, voice raising in pitch near the end as her eyes widened. “But I’ll survive.” 

“I’ll treat the thirty-six, thirty-six, thirty-six, thirty-six, questions as a pastime… thirty-six, thirty-six, thirty-six, thirty-six,questions just like last time…” 

“And maybe it’s wrong to say, but his defense and distance will not sway, me from believing, this is possible.” Judith said, glancing back at the door that she he had let her in through. 

“If he didn’t love me anymore, then why the hell did he open the front door? I think it’s a sign that he-” Judith started, Loki entering the room once more.

“Hey.” He said, and Judith jumped a little, startled. “What’s up?” She asked, voice a little higher than usual. 

“There’s a good chance that this wine is terrible.” Loki said, handing her a glass bottle. “I- I’d settle for drinkable.” Judith said, her usual persona restored. 

“I make no promises. Ah, you lit candles.” Loki said, staring at the candles Judith had unconsciously lit as she was trapped in her mind's irritating circle. 

“Yeah, I thought it would help set the mood.” She shrugged, grabbing a chair. “What’s ‘the mood’?” Loki questioned, furrowing his eyebrows. “Hopeful?” Judith suggested, pushing a chair over to Loki and sitting down on her own. 

“Just like our first date, when we sat on your carpet, drank two bottles of wine.” Judith said, reminiscing the memory. Loki drew in air around him as Judith placed her hand on his shoulder, leaning into him a little. 

“This is different… Two years have gone by, my whole life was a lie.” Judith sent him an encouraging smile. “But there’s something; that feels so familiar, we’ve been here before.”

“Staring at each other” Loki said, looking into Judith’s eyes. “Suddenly caring for each other.” 

“Moving on to, question two.” 

Loki grabbed the paper with the questions written down on them, finding the question. “Would you like to be famous? In what way?” 

“We’re asking thirty-six, thirty-six, thirty-six, thirty-six, questions to each other.” Judith said, staring at the wine she had poured out. 

“Tonight’s thirty-six reasons why, you and I, cannot be healthy for each other.” Loki warily replied, remembering his reasoning.

“We’re asking thirty-six, thirty-six, thirty-six, thirty-six, questions tonight.”

“Thirty-six, thirty-six, thirty-six, thirty-six, questions for the second time.”

“Thirty-six, thirty-six, thirty-six, thirty-six, questions for the last time.” 

Loki stood up from the table, looking down at Judith. “I said I’d have dinner with Judith. One thing.”

Judith nodded, continuing for him. “We say goodbye to Natalie. Let me in, hear me out.”

“Thirty-six, thirty-six, thirty-six, thirty-six, This will be the last thing.”

Tag list (Tell me if you want to be added/removed and what you would like to be added/removed for!): @iceeericeee