#said in the ‘gary i need’ voice

[lemongogo]

i need 2 get back into painting fish

[postmortemnivis]

nobody knew simon’s name, his cold glances penetrating souls whenever someone on the force even dared to call him by his first name. he preferred it this way. he wasn’t the kind to blend personal life and work, he didn’t want to look at himself in the mirror without his mask and still see a murderer. his hands were clean, protected by the gloves ghost slipped on each time he reached base. it was soon that the other soldiers almost forgot his name, agreeing that their lieutenant was indeed a ghost.

that was until your worried voice called for him.

you didn’t know of the ghost identity, it had never even crossed your mind that your simon, your sweet and caring boyfriend’s personality would switch into a cold blooded killer as soon as he set foot at base or in the field. of course he never mentioned it with you, he sporadically talked about his job and his missions. you knew he was a strict lieutenant, but you had been kept away from more by the person with the skull mask and balaclava.

“simon?” you asked for the third time the receptionist. she apologetically looked up at you and shrugged. “oh cmon, simon riley. i know for a fact that he’s here. please, i need to see him.”

“i’m very sorry miss but…” the woman shook her head again, “let me call the captain.”

you sighed and sat down by the waiting area until a man walked in and talked to the woman.

“who’re you looking for?”

you stood up. “simon. simon riley.”

“ghost?”

you shook your head, almost clueless. “no, simon riley.”

“yeah, that’s him…” he said, “he’s training the recruits now. shall i deliver a message?”

“no, i need to see him personally. i wouldn’t have come all the way here if it wasn’t important, captain.”

you'd seen price a few times, simon's loyalty to the man was almost like a dog's one, always following orders and rarely complaining. he often talked about him when he was at home, all he shared with you about his threatening job was the friends he made along the way: johnny, kyle, price, gary, nikolai. he'd often go out for a pint—or two—with johnny and kyle, who also occasionally would come to your shared apartment for dinner with their temporary girlfriends.

"follow me." price sighed. you eagerly followed him, as close as his shadow, and the courtyard came into sight. dozens and dozens of soldiers in scarlet training uniforms were running laps of the immense open space under the pale sun, and that's when you spotted a tall and muscular man in black tactical gear. hell, he was hard to miss.

"another lap, smith!" his mancunian accent was stronger than his will to neutralise it. "if my gran was alive she'd be faster than ya."

you'd recognised the voice, of course, even if it was much harsher than usual, but you couldn't recognise him.

you realised, that was ghost. his cold eyes were studying each of the recruit's tired and red faces, his arms behind his back as he barked for five more laps for the ones who didn't look sweaty enough. even his voice was different, but what shocked you was the black balaclava with the white skull drawn on top.

you'd seen the mask once or twice over the years, shoved on the bottom of his duffle bag or drying on a windowsill, but you've never given it much thought, why would you?

"si?" you asked, standing directly behind him as price stood a few feet from you.

his head snapped in your direction at a worryingly fast speed, his eyes immediately becoming soft, then confused.

"what're you doin' here?" his voice spoke, much sweeter.

you kept staring at him, not recognising the man you loved.

he immediately grabbed the crown of the balaclava and yanked it off without a second though. holding the black piece of clothing in his hand, both of them came to cup your elbows, drawing you closer to him.

"love?" he called you.

still at loss of words, you reached to the balaclava and twirled it between your fingers.

"love, talk to me." his voice sounded worried.

"ghost?"

he shook his head. "simon, love."

"we'll talk about that at home." you raised your eyebrows, attempting a smile.

he looked at you impatiently, his fingers brushing up and down your forearms.

you fished in your bag a small plastic bag and gave it to him.

this wasn't like one of the times when he'd forget his lunch at home so you'd drop by and give it to johnny so he'd give it to an always so busy simon ghost; he could see it in your eyes that this was something more.

he unwrapped the plastic bag that you had rolled up on itself. his eyes looked brighter than ever when he took with shaky fingers the finally positive pregnancy test.

[chleem]

Is it casual now?/extra II

One shot; college students drew x reader

Summary: “Baby, no attachments.” yet, you’re at his childhood home, laughing with his parents, bonding with his siblings. 

Genre: situation-ship, smut, fluff, angst,

Warnings: swearing, sex, light read, etc

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

⋆.˚ official one shot, extra I

♡⸝⸝ "fucked you in the bathroom, when we went to dinner"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Where you going?”

You ask, as Drew stands up. The warmth of his hands caressing your thighs is gone, now running through his hair. “Bathroom,” he mumbles, barely meeting your eyes. He walks off, without another glance back at the table. 

His sour mood is evident, by not only you, but all of your friends. 

To be fair, he didn’t even want to come tonight. He pleaded desperately for you to stay in with him, offering things to you that was ridiculous. Such as, doing your laundry for a month (he doesn’t even do his own). 

But you haven’t hung out with all your friends in a long time, and you missed them. So, tonight was non-negotiable with Drew. 

And he gave up with trying to reason with you, hence, why he decided to join you here, at the nice restaurant. He didn’t even make an effort to engage nicely with them, chuckling under his breath at random times and answering questions with short answers. Whenever you were talking, he would purposely distract you by touching you under the table, making it awkward for you and your friends. 

Drew knows your friends don’t like him; that’s why he’s sour. That’s also why he shows up to these hangouts, just to rub it in their faces. 

“Why did you invite him?” Lucy groans, after Drew was out of eye sight. Your five other friends of this group nod too, all letting out groans of frustration. “Hello, earth to y/n, we. Don’t. Like. Him.”

“He insisted on joining,” you shrug, forcing a smile. 

“Um, you could’ve insisted on him not joining,” Janet, another friend adds on. 

Your friend group was filled with weird people with different opinions, but one thing they’ve collectively agreed on was: they hate Drew. ‘Hate’ is a strong word, but that was the only way to describe their feelings towards Drew. 

They’ve expressed it a lot of times, so it’s become numb to you. 

“Are you guys finally together though?” Gary asks, sitting beside you. 

Oh. Every time they see you, they ask this question. 

“Of course not,” Lucy answers for you, sending you a cocky grin. One you always disliked, because it made you feel small. “Classmates, huh?”

“A really bad label,” Stacy adds on. Yeah, as if you didn’t already know. 

Great. Now it’s just your whole friend group judging you for being with Drew. Again. The last thing you needed from them.

“I visited his parents,” you aggressively say, stabbing into your food. Hopefully that will convince them Drew is a better person that what they think, right?

Wrong. They all ‘tsk’ in a disappointed manner, shaking their heads. “And…still classmates?”

“Well, he said I was his best friend,” you stuff the food in your mouth, “To his family.”

“He probably had to,” Josh speaks up this time, “and wow, is that the first time he called you his friend?” 

You don’t miss the sarcasm in his voice, and you send him a glare. He raises his hands in defense, the table laughs. 

You don’t find the humor in this situation. Why were they so judgmental towards the relationship with Drew? It’s not like he’s the biggest jackass ever. You’ve seen every side there is to Drew, they just don’t know him like you do. “Can you guys cut it off?” You say, not trying to hide the annoyance in your voice. 

“We’re just joking,” Janet laughs, glancing around, “besides, we’re worried for you.”

You chew and swallow the food in your mouth, sending her an unappreciative smile, “‘worried’ for me?”

“Yes, he’s obviously not… well, in love with you,” Janet continues, “we don’t want you with someone who clearly doesn’t care for you.”

“He cares for me,” you defend, furrowing your eyebrows at them. You look around the table, seeing your friends glance down at their food, afraid to meet your eyes. “He cares for me.”

“Sure he does,” Stacy bitterly agrees with you. That tone pisses you off. “Maybe privately, he does, but what about in public? Starting off with the most basic, labels.”

You hate how right your friends are. As rude and mean they’re being, deep down, you know they’re right. The ‘no attachments’ thing is bullshit, especially when nothing about the two of you is casual. 

Five, no close to six months, nothing about that is causal. 

“That…doesn’t matter,” you murmur. Wrong; it mattered a lot, to everyone and to you. You just hated to admit you weren’t as chill or casual as Drew was, how he made everything romantic seem friendly with you. 

When you look around, everyone is now staring at you pitifully. 

You didn’t like that. That pity stare. There’s nothing to be pity of. Bunch of people around the world right now might be having situation-ships too. Nothing to pity. Nothing to be ashamed of. 

Yeah. That’s what you keep brainwashing yourself to believe. 

‘The girl that he bangs on his couch’. Yeah. Nothing to be ashamed of. 

Your phone on the table lights up, and it reads bathroom. now. 

Drew. “Um, excuse me,” you stand up, excusing yourself to the bathroom. 

As you slowly get up and walk away, your friends weren’t very careful with the volume of their voice. You hear one of them calling you a loser, still hanging around just for a good dick to suck. 

That must be Janet. Her lonely ass must be jealous. 

But part of you knew she wasn’t wrong. You were a loser. The biggest loser to exist. The loser of losers, if that even is a thing. 

Casual. Your friends succeeded once again, in making you doubt everything with Drew. 

——

“Really boring, right?”

Drew pulls you in by the waist, a lazy smile on his lips as he stares down at you. He leans against the sink, making you stand between his legs. 

This restaurant had two bathrooms, each with their own sink inside. So, Drew took full advantage of that. 

“Hmm,” you hum carelessly. You didn’t want agree with him; you tried to make this evening nice, but his attitude towards your friends just weren’t helping. You keep your gaze around the collar of his jacket, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

“Something wrong?” He asks, playfulness still hinted in his words. His hand rub circles around your waist, as he tries to make eye contact with you, bending his head down to your level. 

You advert your gaze even more, now focusing on the bracelet around his wrist. Now that you think about it, he always has this on, since the day you got it for him. 

Was that casual to do? To keep the bracelet on at all times. 

“Look at me, would you?” Drew’s tone turns serious, and he pinches the side of your waist harshly.

You flinch, finally looking up at him. You meet his blue eyes, a mix of concern and something else that you can’t read. His raised eyebrows tell you that he wants you to talk, to tell him what’s on your mind. 

Should you? But, where do you even start? With his attitude tonight, or with your friend’s comments? Or with this whole casual thing, which is basically the beginning to it all.

Your lips pout on its own, resting your hands around his wrist. “That was uncalled for,” you murmur, looking down at his bracelet again. 

“What was?” Drew’s pinch one your waist is more soft this time, wanting to get the words out of you. 

“Doing that,” you say, playing with his chained bracelet. Shit. You’re gonna say it. You’re gonna call him out for his behavior. “Being rude to my friends.”

A scoff escapes Drew. He then brings his hand up to your face, forcing you to look up at him. Like second nature, you lean your face into the palm of his hand, waiting for him to explain himself. “Babe, your friends were the rude ones.”

The feeling inside your stomach is indescribable. The nickname sends you butterflies, but the words that follow don't. 

“How?” You ask, crossing your arms.  

He licks his lips, squinting his eyes at you. “It was so fucking obvious.”

“Was it?” 

“Yes- yes, it was,” Drew straightens his posture, taking his hands off you. The warmth of him is gone, now with the presence of a man trying to explain his reasonable case of being bratty. “They asked loaded questions to me this whole night.”

You furrow your eyebrows, thinking hard to the stuff they asked Drew. Shit. They were. Your friends didn’t even trying to hide their discontent with him tonight. 

“They hate me,” he adds on, “C’mon, I leave the table for like, a few minutes, and they talked shit, right?”

The way he looks at you; he challenges you to disagree with him. But you couldn’t; he was right. Your friends hate him, making you constantly doubt whatever this was with Drew. 

“Wasn’t all shit,” you lie, sending him the smallest smile ever. 

Drew makes the ‘tsk’ sound, shaking his head as he gives you a tired smile. “What they say then?” He asks, leaning back against the sink again. 

His eyes look at you in anticipation, biting down on his lips. 

You do not want to tell him what they said. It was rude, and although it was about Drew, it affected you more than it should have. The seeds of doubt are always planted by your friends, they never put you at ease with this relationship. 

You give him a lazy smile, snaking your arms around his neck. You lean in close to him, a seductive look in your eyes. “Does it matter? They talk shit, all they ever do.”

Drew’s lips slightly part, and he glances quickly down at your lips. A smile appears, “I see what you’re doing. You’re distracting me.”

You shrug lightly, before planting a small kiss on his jaw. “Is it working?”

You hear a chuckle escape from him, and his hand wraps around the back of your head. His eyes keep bouncing between your lips and eyes, smiling from ear-to-ear, “annoyingly so, you minx.”

Without another comment, Drew kisses you, soft and slow. 

You return the kiss, escalating into a whole make-out session. 

You hate how your body reacts to him; feeling a pool of wetness form between your legs. Fuck. 

Something pokes against your lower stomach, and you pull away from Drew. You glance down; he’s erected. “Shit,” you curse, as his hands slide down your body. He squeezes your ass, burying his face into your neck as he breathes the skin there. 

“I…I can’t go back to the table like this,” he murmurs, referring to his erection. 

You watch as his back rises and falls, through the sink mirror. Even with this thick white jacket he has on, you can tell his breathing has sped up. Your lips form a straight line, running your hands through his short hair. 

In the bathroom? Right in the middle of dinner? It was highly inappropriate. 

Wrapping your hands around his face, you pull him up to meet his eyes. He looks at you pleadingly, lips parted with drool on the corner of his lips. 

Fuck. How is one suppose to say no to that look? He looked as if he physically needed you; needed you to calm the… ‘growing’ in his pants. 

“Ten minutes,” you tell him, which immediately lights the spark in his eyes. He looks like a puppy! You smile at that thought, as he straightens himself, switching your positions. 

“Ten minutes? Enough for two rounds,” he teases, lifting you to sit on the sink. 

“No! One round,” you say, which gets cut off by Drew kissing you again. As much fun as two rounds sound, the longer you linger in here, the more obvious it is that the two of you are fucking. 

He groans into your mouth, spreading your legs to stand between them. His hands move fast into your dress, slipping your underwear off. The cold surface of the sink hits your thighs and pussy, adding to the heat growing within you. 

Drew trails his kisses down your neck, as your hands work on undoing his belt. 

You moan when he sucks on the sweet-spot around your neck, the belt dropping onto the floor with a hard thud. “Drew…” you moan out, messy hands tugging his hair as he continues to form hickeys around your neck. 

You want to run your hands around his stomach, chest, abs. But the jacket he has on prevents that, being zipped up the whole way. This jacket looked great on him, but would look better on the floor. 

Your hands fidget with the zipper, tugging with no luck of it moving. 

Drew pulls away from your neck, a chuckle escaping, “babe, gently.”

His hands overlaps yours, guiding you to pull the jacket zipper down. It reveals that he isn’t wearing anything inside; a feast to your eyes. “Is that why you refused to take this off?” You ask, referring to before the dinner started.

“I was invited last minute,” he shrugs the jacket off, as if it wasn’t his fault for the improvised outfit. 

“Right, but you weren’t invited,” you remind him, when he insisted on joining you when you were leaving, throwing on a random outfit nearby. You were busy putting your heels on, so you couldn’t see the moment when he got dressed. You didn’t even know he owned a jacket like this. 

“Mmhm,” his mind was elsewhere, attaching his lips to yours again. Sloppy and more lustful this time, as your hands wander around his body. It’s hot under your touch; his abs flexing as you run your hands over them. 

His hand grips onto your thigh, before moving closer to your heat. 

When the warmth of his fingers hit your pussy, you moan loudly into his mouth. 

“Shit,” he chuckles, “we’re in public, babe.”

The tip of your ears heat up too, from the embarrassment and realization that you’re in public, most likely having people hear you from the other side of the door. “Sorry,” you murmur, burying your face into his neck. 

Drew sticks two fingers into your hole, and starts thrusting at a faster speed than usual. Your breathing becomes uneven, as you try to tone down your moans. 

Drew wasn’t having it easy either, as you hear low grunts escaping him. “Fuck,” he curses, adding another digit, “you’re tight tonight.”

“Just fuck me already,” you manage to say, hands gripping on his biceps. Surely, this was enough foreplay, right? 

He chuckles again, this time at your impatience. He pulls his fingers out of you, his hands going to the back pocket of his jeans. 

The familiar gold packaging comes out, and his hands skillfully rip them open. 

“…couldn’t put on a shirt but bought a condom with you?” Laughter escapes you, as you watch him unzip his pants. 

He glances up at you, and when he sees you smiling ear-to-ear, he can’t help but match you, “wasn’t gonna show up totally unprepared, right?”

You laugh again; what an unbelievable guy. “Shirt’s optional but condom a must. Got it.”

Drew lets his pants and boxers hang around his knees, his cock standing proud. The sight immediately wipes the smile off your lips, gulping as you imagine it stuffed inside you. 

“The chances of fucking you wherever and whenever is high,” Drew says, wrapping the condom around his dick. 

He looks up at you, seeing your gaze fixed on his hard cock. A smirk helps themselves to his lips, as his hands tug on your waist. An idea flashes in his mind as he looks over your shoulder, at the big sink mirror. 

“Get off,” his voice brings you back, looking at him with confused eyes now. “C’mon, trust me.”

You let him bring you back onto the ground, before flipping you over. You see both your reflections in the mirror, your back hitting his chest, his dick poking your upper ass. 

When you meet his eyes through the mirror, you understand where this was going. 

“Watch yourself while I destroy your fucking pussy, hmm?”

Oh. Oh. Was it possible to be turned on by words? 

Drew lifts up your dress, revealing your wet core. You hold onto the sink for support, grip getting tighter when you feel Drew’s tip against your entrance. 

Then, he slips in, going deep until it’s completely nestled inside you. 

“Fuck,” you moan, glancing up at Drew. He sends you a smirk, enjoying this too. His hand goes to your stomach, and he lifts you backward, resting against his chest again. 

“Grip my hair, and keep your eyes open, alright?” His voice drops low, one hand moving to knead your breasts. 

You nod, bringing your hands behind you; one tugging gently around his hair, another around his arm that’s supporting you. 

He starts to thrust into you, rather roughly and fast. “Shit,” you moan, the sensation sending you to outer space. With his thick cock slamming into you, his hands roaming your body, your hands running through his short hair, it feels euphoric. 

Your eyes can barely stay open, as you look at the reflection in the mirror. Drew leaves a trail of sloppy kisses along your shoulder, which sends goosebumps to your skin. 

You watch as one of his hand slips between your thighs, starting to massage your pussy. “Fuck,” you moan, louder than you should be. You couldn’t help it, the pleasure was extraordinary. 

He kisses your earlobe, “i’know baby, but keep it down, alright?”

“Y-yeah,” it barely comes out, as the thrusts and massages to your core intensifies. The familiar knot in your stomach forms, informing you that you’re close. “Drew…”

His pace doesn’t stop, and when you lean your head back on his shoulder, he goes harder, “close?”

You nod with any energy left, and Drew uses his free hand to lift your face up again. He kisses your cheek, “use your words.”

You flutter your eyes open, looking at the two of you in the mirror. It was extremely hot, to see Drew filling you up, his hands all around you. The mirror starts to fog up a little, with all the grunting and pressure filling in here. 

“I’m coming,” you force out, and meet Drew’s gaze in the mirror. His blue eyes meet yours, seething with lust. 

You clench around him, your hand going around Drew’s, which is massaging your pussy. He stops massaging, and he intertwines your hands together. The stickiness doesn’t bother you; why should it?

“Fuck,” he groans, his thrusts to your g-spot growing sloppy. 

You tilt your head sideways, and you give him a quick kiss, which sends you over the edge. Your orgasm explodes inside of you, cum dripping out and over Drew’s cock. 

Body giving up, you lean completely against Drew, as he helps himself to his. His cock twitches, and you feel the familiar hot liquid filling up. 

Both of you are breathing heavily, euphoria radiating off your bodies. Fuck. This might just be one of the best fucks you’ve had with Drew. But in a public restroom? Who would’ve thought. 

“You’re so hot,” he compliments, before planting a small kiss on the side of your face. 

You giggle at that stupid comment, looking at him through the mirror; He’s got a playful smile on his lips, looking at you with smitten eyes. “You’re great with your words.”

He chuckles, his hands tapping against the side of your waist, signaling you to move. You use the energy left inside of you, helping him slip out. Leaning against the sink, you watch as Drew grabs tissues to wipe your core, then throwing his condom away. 

After that, he grabs your underwear on the floor. You get yourself dressed, him doing the same thing. 

“Look, only…only seven minutes passed,” Drew comments with a sly smile on his lips, showing you his watch. 

You roll your eyes, your lips betraying you by forming a smile. “Cocky much?” 

He puts his jacket back on, the last piece of clothing. “Well, you've definitely enjoyed the taste of it.”

You hit his chest playfully, his remark sending butterflies to your stomach. He laughs, zipping his jacket only halfway. Your eyebrows furrow at his exposed chest that pierces through the top; and you reach for the zipper. 

Drew stays in place, and you feel his gaze on the top of your head, his hot breath hitting you. You ignore the tension that pulls; when you’re done, you pat his chest, “all done, buddy.”

“‘Buddy’?” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone, eyes squinting down at you. 

You send him a soft smile, seeing him glance down at your lips. “What?”

“Call me buddy one more time,” his hands wrap around your waist, and he leans closer to you, “and you’ll get it.”

His dirty and challenging tone sends shivers down your spine, something you find yourself liking a bit too much. The pit of your stomach yells at you at how hypocritical Drew was being right now, but you ignore it. 

And just because it’s fun, you lean into his ear, and whisper, “best buddy ever.”

Tickles are sent to the side of your body, making you jump and melt into his arms. You laugh uncontrollably; Drew knew you were ticklish, using it to his full advantage. 

“Stop! Stop!” You yell between laughter, your legs ready to give up. 

“Don’t call me that then,” he stops tickling you, grip on you tight to make sure you don’t fall. He kisses the tears of laughter from the corner of your eyes, “I don’t like it.”

“Noted,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck. You glance down at his lips, and he does the same to yours. 

Drew gives you the look; he wants to kiss you. 

And you let him, closing your eyes and feeling his lips against yours. 

Is it still casual if you kissed me like it’s the last time you ever will? You hate how this thought appears in your mind again, haunting you. 

You pull away, the pressure of it getting overwhelming. “Let’s head back, yeah?”

“We have to?” His eyes stay glued to your lips. “You know, We could…we could just leave.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “no!”

“Say you got plans tomorrow morning,” he shrugs, “I’ll say it for you, if you can’t-”

You cross your arms, looking up at him. “Why would I leave early?”

Drew parts his lips, and he brings his hand up to your elbow. He rubs the area there in soft circles, a playful look in his eyes, “…grab some froyo?”

You drop your arms, looking at him disappointedly. When he saw that, he hurriedly adds, “and I got errands to run. Really.”

You contemplate in your mind about this; ditching this dinner to hang out privately with Drew? Yeah, that sounded like something fun. It must be better than staying awkwardly, having your friends judge Drew. 

Casual. Casual, casual, casual. Some casual froyo with Drew, and maybe ending up with sex in his dorm room. 

Yeah. Seemed like things people whose ‘casual’ would do. 

“Fine. You’re treating me though,” you unlock the door, walking out the bathroom. 

“I always treat you,” you hear him murmur behind you, following closely behind as you two walk back to the table. 

You interrupt the conversation they’re having, grabbing your purse from your seat. They look at your questionably, before their gaze lands sourly on Drew behind you. “i’ve got something, tomorrow morning, so we’re heading off,” you try sounding apologetic, “sorry to leave this early.”

“Oh, um, okay,” Lucy glances between the two of you, “text us when you get home.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you apologize again, before your friends wave goodbye to you. You don’t miss the hateful looks they leave on Drew, as they tell you to take care until the next time you guys meet. 

After that, you and Drew leave the restaurant, letting the doorman do his job of getting a taxi. 

A warmth around your hand catches you by surprise; Drew holds your hand, pulling you closer to him. You look down at the holding of hands; then back up at him. He’s staring down at his phone, scrolling through his insta feed. 

Holding hands. Something very casual to do, apparently. 

“What are you watching?” You ask, leaning on his shoulder. 

He laughs, showing you the screen. It’s a video of a monkey pointing towards the glass, which has different play-doughs lined along it. 

You don’t get the humor in it, but you smile, because it makes Drew smile. 

The two of you stand there, watching different posts on his phone until the taxi arrives. 

Your mind finds it strange how ‘casual’ you two are. 

Because, in the bottom of your heart, you weren’t so sure if this was casual anymore. Along the way, the lines of ‘no attachment’ seemed to have blurred. Blurred to the point of no return. 

-------------------------------

word count: 4.1k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: goddamn, i would fall for this toxic relationship too T_T

sry for not posting lately, i got very busy lately! i promise you, flashing lights 6 & not a big deal pt4 is coming sooooon. but hope you enjoyed this extra, and also, thx for blowing up the halloween special, was NOT expecting that. thank you sm! your lovely comments inspire me to write these fics!

btw, watched obx s4, and the ending broke me T_T like tffff

[thebearer]

follow me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: the bear needs a social media rebrand. sydney hired you, and carmen gets more than just followers after meeting you.

an: bad descript i'm sorry lol. basically you're a social media manager and carmen likes you lol or how you and carmen meet <3 also thinking this will be a part 1???? lmk if you want a part 2!!!

contains: reader is a social media manager. language. carmen denying himself happiness ofc. mentions of mikey. fluff, fluff, fluff!!!

“What the hell is this?” Sydney’s voice raised, brow raised even higher to heighten her suspicions. Maybe her disgust. 

After Carmen looked at the snarl on her face, he decided it was definitely disgust. 

“What?” Carmen shrugged, looking at the screen in front of him. “It’s the, uh, The Beef’s old Instagram.” 

“Right.” Sydney said slowly, blinking at Carmen obviously. “The Beef, and we are not that anymore. We are The Bear.” She scrolled for a moment. “They also haven’t posted since twenty-twenty, which is-” 

“-Well, Mikey ran it, alright?” Carmen huffed, glaring at Sydney with annoyance. “I just found the fuckin’ password on a fucking gum wrapper in a folder labeled ‘important shit’ so I don’t know what to tell you.” 

Sydney nodded slowly, looking back at the phone, before sighing deeply. “I know what you should do.” She said, typing on her phone. Carmen grunted, still looking at the piles of order forms for produce in front of him. “You need a social media manager, because Carm, this? It's not gonna work.” 

“Social media what?” Carmen’s brows creased, shaking his head. “I don’t- no, I don’t need to do that. I’ll just, I’ll get Gary or fuckin’ Sweeps or Fak to run-”

“No, no, Carmen, seriously? Look at this. There’s- oh my God- there’s a thing here that says bring your own plate and you’ll get a free drink, Carmen… What the fuck?” Sydney sighed, shaking her head at him. 

Carmen nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I-I’m thinking that was a, uh, a Mikey special.” He muttered, pinching his eyes shut. “I can’t afford to hire someone on the payroll for that long, ok? Not when I could hire another hostess or-or a runner.” 

“They only come in to revamp and get it started. Just a little kick start for now. To get us started.” Sydney explained, clicking on her screen. “Look, I have a mutual friend with this girl who’s really fuckin’ good, ok? She did Lobo’s that pizza place? Got them from two hundred to eighteen thousand followers in like two or three months.” 

Carmen’s eyes flashed, looking at Sydney with a raised brow. “Seriously? Fuck…” Carmen looked at the screen, the crisp photos, videos, fun and trendy- vibrant and alluring. He hated to admit it, but it was good. 

“Look, Carm, it’s free advertising, ok? You catch the influencers if it goes viral. Could really put this place out there.” Sydney countered. “It’d be a lot cheaper than paying for some shitty advertisement on the news that no one watches anyways. Could bring in a lot of business and attention.” 

Carmen’s fingers drummed against the counter, sighing sharply. “Fine, whatever, see if you can get her in and just… Just tell me how much I need to put aside, alright? I’ll push the new glasses until then.” 

Sydney smiled triumphantly, nodding at Carmen. “Yes, Chef.” She saluted, walking out of the office. 

Three days later, you were standing outside of The Bear, newly opened, freshly renovated, and steady but not booming. “Uh, excuse me?” You waved through the window at the man in the beanie, looking at you carefully. 

“Hey, we’re closed until dinner, alright? But you can-” 

“Oh, no. I, uh, I’m not here for eating.” You cringed, shaking your head. “I’m looking for Sydney? Or Carmen? I’m the new social media person?” 

“Social media?” The man repeated, pushing the door open further. “Oh, shit! You’re the girl who does the, uh, Lobo and Avec!” 

“Yeah, I am.” You blushed, walking into the restaurant. 

“I love watching those reels of the asmr cutting the bread. Ugh, I watch it every night before going to bed.” The guy laughed, locking the door behind you. “Oh, I’m Marcus by the way.” 

You took his extended hand, introducing yourself, while you took in the fixtures on the wall, the art, the overall ambiance. “I am going to get Carmen, but you can stay right here if you want.” Marcus grinned, pushing the sliding doors open. 

You set your things down, pulling out your notebook, and looking around the restaurant. You knew that this was once The Beef, Sydney had sent you a few things about Carmen’s credentials and you looked up the rest. Impressed was an understatement, a guy your age that had ran the best restaurant in the world? Quite possibly was the best chef in the world or at least Chicago and needed your help? You were nervous, to say the least. 

Marcus called your name, making you jump slightly as you turned around. “Uh, so this is Carmen. He’s the owner, the head chef.” 

“Hi,” You were met with piercing blue eyes, hidden under a stray blonde lock of hair. Carmen’s hand reached for yours. “Nice to meet you. Sydney, uh, she couldn’t stop tellin’ me about your work. Thank you for helpin’ us out.” 

“No, no, thank you.” You reached for his hand, strong, a little rough, trying not to stare at his inked fingers. “It’s a pleasure to work with you. She told me a little about you, about the restaurant. It’s very impressive. Surprised you needed me.” You grinned. 

Carmen bit back a smile, looking down to hide his blush. Fuck, Sydney said you were good at your job, she failed to mention that you were so fuckin’ pretty too. Carmen could feel his heart fluttering in his chest, taking flight like he was a middle schooler again with a school yard crush. 

“So, if you have time, I want to go over some goals with you?” You say, gripping your notebook tightly. 

“Goals. Right, uh,” Carmen looked through the back doors. “Sydney is on her break, and-and my sister, Sugar- well, her name is Natalie, she’s like our manager. Richie too, uh, shit- I’m sorry that’s a lot of people, I know.” Carmen shook his head, an anxious laugh pealing out from his lips. “Those are the people you need to talk to, basically. I can grab them, just-” 

“-But you’re the owner, right?” You asked, lifting a brow gently. 

“No, I mean, yeah, I am.” Carmen stuttered. 

“Then I need to talk to you, too.” You gave him a small smile. “I mean, you know this place better than anyone, right? All the ins and outs? And from what Sydney told me, you redid this entire place. Right?” 

“Yeah, I did.” Carmen nodded. Fuck, he kept staring at your lips, he didn’t mean to, he was just… he was distracted. 

“So, we can all meet if you want, or I can do it one at a time.” You pulled your pen out of your notebook, looking at him with a gentle smile. It had Carmen’s heart racing. “I just have a few questions about the vision.” 

“The vision?” Carmen repeated, swallowing around the growing lump in his throat. 

“Yeah, the vision.” You smiled. “Just… tell me about this place. Tell me about you.” You slid into the chair across from him. 

Carmen wiped his hands on his pants, turning to look at the doors, hoping someone would come to his rescue. He wasn’t good at talking, especially not to pretty girls, especially about himself. Still, he couldn’t leave you sitting there. He’d hired you after all, and you were here to help him. So he sat down across from you, hoping you didn’t see the way his knee bounced under the table, hoping you couldn’t hear how his heart pounded. 

“So, Carmen Berzatto,” You grinned, every syllable of his name rolling off your tongue so sweetly, Carmen was sure he was going to faint. “Tell me about The Bear. Why did you start it?”

“Well, it was The Beef before. And-And my parents owned it, then my brother Mikey did…” Carmen started, watching the way you scribbled, eyes flickering to him with a small smile.

“Hello!” You called, pushing through the back door. They’d given you the code a week ago, so you didn’t have to wait or pound on the front door until someone took mercy and let you in. “It’s content day!” You sang, cheery and bright. 

Carmen could hear the pretty trill of your voice, trickling down the hall and into the kitchen. Tina smirked, watching the way he stopped, turning to look at you, blush rising under his white shirt. “Hey, Jeff,” Tina smirked, his head snapping to her. “Your girl’s here.” 

The staff had been teasing Carmen relentlessly about how smitten he was with you. Something he’d been so reluctant to do, he now looked forward to. Carmen swore it was because of your work. You had taken them from the measly six hundred followers they’d had since they started the account in twenty-eleven to six thousand, strategic posts and tags and tagging a few buzz accounts that were Chicago foodies. Business had gone up, reservations filling slowly. Followers poured in from TikTok, from the reels, from the posts. One tag from a micro Chicago influencer had brought in a good chunk and was still, all because of a photo with the pretty light features and the dessert. 

“Where’s the Bear?” You grinned, passing Sydney, camera in hand, bag slung over your shoulder. You pushed open Carmen’s office, dropping your bag in there. He’d told you that you could keep your things in there, since you didn’t have a locker, of course- and not at all because that meant he’d see you before you left. 

“He’s in here, baby!” Tina called, smirking at Carmen. 

“C’mon,” Carmen shook his head, a deep breath to keep him from looking so flushed. It worked for a moment, of course, until you rounded the corner. All bright smiles and fuck, you smelled so good. Camren wanted to drown himself in your perfume. “Good morning, Bear.” You beamed. 

Carmen grinned, cheeks heating with every step you took forward. “Mornin’.” He muttered, looking at the clock. 

“It’s content day.” You grinned, shaking your camera lightly. “Tell me you got something good for me, Chef. What's the special this week?” 

“A lamb tenderloin with a gorgonzola sauce served over pasta- house made, of course.” Carmen answered. 

“Of course.” You repeated with a tiny grin. You turned on your camera, taking a test shot, before you looked at Carmen carefully. “Ready whenever you are, Chef.” 

Carmen bit back his own grin, clearing his throat lightly. “How do I start it? The same as last time?” 

“Yep.” You nodded, pressing the camera to your eyes. “Tell me your name, name of the restaurant, and then just this week's special.” 

“On your mark.” Carmen nodded, picking up his clean utensil. 

“On yours.” You laughed. “I’m already recording.” 

Carmen spoke to the camera easily, trying to stay trained on the lens and not at you. How you’d grin and nod encouragingly at him, zooming in closer as he chopped, seasoned, pulled the already prepared and finished product out of the oven. 

Richie crossed his arms, leaning against the wall next to Sugar, lips pursed knowingly. “I know you’re thinkin’ the same shit as me.” 

Sugar hummed. “That Carmen’s into her?” 

“Way fuckin’ into her.” Richie grinned, watching as Carmen blushed, grinning back at you, genuine and a little shy at your compliment. 

“Fifty bucks says he doesn’t make a move.” Sugar looked at Richie. 

Richie snorted, scoffing with a shake of his head. “Alright. I’ll take your bet. I say he does.” 

“Get ready to be out of fifty dollars, Cousin.” Sugar said smugly. “This is Carmy we’re talking about. Not Mikey. Carmen’s not gonna make a move on her.” 

“Eh, not so quick, my dear, Natalie. Carmen’s changed a little since this place.” Since the horrendous freezer incident with Claire. “He really likes her too, look at ‘em.” Richie nodded, watching as Carmen held the spoon out for you, blushing when your hand touched his to take it, groaning before smothering him in compliments. Tina looked at Richie, amused and grinning from across the room. 

“Carmen will seal the deal. It’ll be last fuckin’ minute and it will be a mess, because it’s fuckin’ Carmen, but… I believe in him.” Richie nodded. 

Natalie snorted. “I genuinely hope you’re right, Cousin.” She looked at Carmen with a small smile, watching the way he looked at you, eyes cutting like he was being so cool about keeping his feelings underwraps. “I really do.” 

That night, Carmen lied in bed, scrolling through his footage from the day, seeing the video pop up from @/thebearchicago. Set to classical music, snobby and dramatic, the cuts, Carmen’s voice laid over describing the meal for the week, and a particularly good close up of his hands cutting the onions fiercely. Carmen was shocked to see the number of likes… the number of comments flooding in. 

“the cameraman knew exactly what they were doing lmao”

“New necklace available!!!” 

“I will give you my vital organs and let you chop them up like that if you let me watch chef please” 

“What the fuck?” Carmen snorted lightly, shaking his head, scrolling through the comments. He clicked to the main page of the restaurant, seeing you were just a few away from ten thousand followers. Fuck… Sydney was fucking right. You were good. 

Carmen’s face fell, mind racing and screaming with the reminder that you were only there for a few more days. He’d only hired your for two months- two glorious fucking months. You seemed… permanent now. Like he couldn’t imagine you not coming in on Tuesdays and Thursdays and after three on Fridays. You were a staple there. The staff loved you, you were good, and-

And Carmen really liked you. Liked having you around. Looked forward to talking to you. To get the chance to lean over your shoulder as an excuse to touch you when you showed him a preview of a post. Or when you’d send him cute text messages, a funny comment attached, your text reading: “you’re a hit, bear! they love you!” 

It was like you could read his mind, your contact flashing across the screen at him. 

To: Carmen 

‘told you this would be a good one! the fans love you berzatto!!!’ 

Carmen grinned, the faint twinge of a blush on his face. He could feel his heart racing, fingers dancing over the keyboard, and worst of all- he could hear Mikey’s fucking voice in the back of his head. A nagging tone repeating over and over and over, “Let it rip, Bear! Don’t be such a pussy! Ask her out!” 

Carmen looked at his screen, fingers typing out the message, a short, less than smooth invite to make you a special thank you dinner and his place- a date. He hoped you picked up on it. Heat hammering in his chest, he could feel his chest tighten, ribs knitting together uncomfortably, stomach twisting in the worst way. 

So, Carmen did what he always did. 

From: Carmen 

‘Never doubted you. Thank you. The video was great.’ 

He watched as the blue sent, the delivered turning into seen, and followed by your thumbs up over the text. Carmen put his phone on the table, lying back on his pillow, but he couldn’t sleep. His stomach still turned, unsettled with regret. 

“Oh! Marcus stop!” You gasped, Carmen’s head turning at the sound of your voice. “You didn’t need to do all of this!” 

“Yeah, I did.” Marcus beamed. Carmen turned the corner, seeing a beautifully piped cake there, candles and icing cursive that read “thank you!” in the middle of the buttercream. “You’re cool and you got us on the map, girl. Plus, we’re gonna miss you.” 

“Yeah,” Sydney nodded, holding a small balloon that said that exact phrase on it. “We will miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you guys.” You grinned, hugging them both tightly. “This has been my favorite job so far. You guys have been so nice. Way nicer than a lot of these assholes around here.” You grinned. 

Richie stood on the wall, foot tapping, eyes darting back from you to Carmen. He could see his cousin’s stuttering movements, hesitant and careful, before retreating back into himself. C’mon, Carm, fuckin’ do it, Richie thought, shaking his head. Carmen wouldn’t though, wouldn’t let himself be happy. Richie took a deep breath, head shaking with annoyance. 

“Goddammit, Berzatto,” Richie muttered, pushing off the wall. “You know, sweetheart, it’s been so great having you. Seriously, you blew us all away.” Richie said, walking towards you. 

You smiled. “Thanks, Richie. I really appreciate it.” 

“And you know what, we want to really show how much we appreciate you.” Richie’s eyes cut to Natalie, a silent plea to help him out. “I had a cancellation for this evening, and I would love for you to come instead. Let us really cook for you, give you the whole experience. No bill, of course. All on the house, for you, my dear.” 

“Oh, I-I couldn’t let you guys do that.” You shook your head politely, eyes cutting to Carmen’s. 

“No-No, please.” Carmen nodded, finally speaking. Richie sighed silently in relief. “It would be great actually. Please?” 

You felt your heart melt, nodding softly. Before you could even reply, Richie was stepping up again. “And you know what? You gotta do one last post for us, right? The big chef spotlight one. The, uh, c’mon, Sydney what am I lookin’ for here?” 

“Oh, the one about the staff spotlights?” Sydney asked. 

“That’s the one. See, that’s it. And you’ve done everyone except the big boss.” Richie pointed at Carmen, ignoring the way the younger man’s face fell. 

“I didn’t get one-” Fak started, Richie shoving him out of the way. 

“You gotta end with Carmy, and it's funny because it’s gonna be real slow tonight anyways. Wednesday, ya know? And I think what better way to experience the night, really craft that staff spotlight thing, than with Carmen. The two of you, have dinner and get to talk.” Richie knew it was rocky, not at all smooth, but it was the best he could do. 

“What? Cousin, what are you-” 

“-No, you’re right, Richie.” Sugar added, stepping towards Carmen, and cutting him off. “And Carm, you were saying you wanted to see everything in action for yourself. You do the customer experience so you make sure everything’s good, and we’ll serve you both dinner. All the stops.” 

“How’s that sound?” Richie clapped his hands together, nodding at Tina, who grinned. 

“Jeff, it would be really nice to make sure we can work without your instructions. A good night for it too.” Tina added. 

“Yeah, and Sydney’s got it.” Richie nudged the girl beside him. 

“Totally, Carm- uh, Chef. I’ve got it.” Sydney nodded, catching on to Richie’s glare at her. 

Carmen felt like he could melt into the floor, face red and palms sweaty. His ears were ringing, tongue swelled thick in his mouth. You looked over at him with a small smile. “I mean, that does sound really nice. If-If it’s ok with you guys, you don’t have to-” 

“-Oh no,” Richie shook his head, walking over to Carmen to clap him on the shoulders. “We insist, don’t we, cousin?” Richie laughed, leaning down to Carmen. “Don’t fuckin’ stand there like a jagoff, say somethin’.” He whispered. 

“Yeah.” Carmen said, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. “It’s, uh, yeah. That-That sounds great.” 

“Wonderful.” Richie beamed. “Six o’clock sounds good for you kids? Give you enough time to get it together.” Richie looked from you to Carmen. “Maybe for some of us to take a shower.” 

Carmen could feel the heat rise from his neck to his cheeks, covering him in a furious blush. You giggled. “Definitely gives me time to get a blow out.” You laugh. “See you at six then?” 

“It’s a date.” Natalie added, practically bouncing on her toes behind Carmen. 

Carmen glared at her, before turning back to you. “Yeah, I-I’ll see you then.” 

[felassan]

New Details on DA4 from this IGN article: "Dragon Age: Dreadwolf Is Officially Being Renamed, With Gameplay Reveal Set for June 11 - EXCLUSIVE"

"BioWare confirmed that The Veilguard will feature seven playable party members, and that it will feature “fun and fluid, moment-to-moment combat” while continuing to center strategy via the unique powers of each companion.

BioWare general manager Gary McKay explains that while Solas is “still very much a part of the story of Dragon Age: The Veilguard,” the team wanted a title that reflected a “really deep and compelling group of companions.”

“One thing that’s important to remind fans is that every Dragon Age game is a new and different experience and this game, more so than ever, is about you and your companions – a group that you must rally to fight by your side,” McKay tells IGN. “We can’t wait for players to meet, connect and form their own personal relationships with the unique companions that make up The Veilguard. That’s the spirit of this game…of this story. Choosing who will join you on your adventure, fight alongside you, and be there by your side in the end.”

McKay claims that the name change wasn’t a matter of focus testing, which commonly informs decisions like these. He even goes so far as to admit that sticking with Dreadwolf might have been easier.

“We actually think sticking with Dreadwolf would have been the safer choice – ‘Dread Wolf’ is a cool name after all!” McKay says. “In the end, it was most important for us to have a title that was authentic to the companions that are the heart of this adventure we’ve created. We’ve worked throughout development to create really incredible backstories for each companion that intersect with the main narrative in meaningful ways.”

As for why it’s not simply named “Dragon Age IV,” McKay says it’s for the same reason that Dragon Age Inquisition wasn’t called “Dragon Age III: Inquisition.”

“Every game in the series tells its own unique story and the title is an important element to help set the stage for the next standalone adventure inclusive of its own hero, companions, narrative arc, villain, setting, etc,” he says.

Asked what it means for BioWare to finally be able to show The Veilguard to the world, McKay said, “As the studio head and executive producer, it’s been incredible to see the journey, resilience and passion that this team continues to bring every day. We have an incredible group of both BioWare and Dragon Age veterans who have been with us for years, as well as new faces and voices that love the series who have helped to create an unforgettable experience we feel will be worthy of the Dragon Age name.”

So who exactly are the Veilguard? In the lore, the Veil is a barrier between the physical world and Fade, which is Dragon Age’s spirit realm. Solas, who helped create the Veil, now wants to destroy it. Hence, as McKay puts it, “the Veil needs guarding.”

While acknowledging that the why and the how is definitely spoiler territory, McKay says, “The biggest clue I can share is that you and your companions – that make up The Veilguard – are central to taking down a new evil threat unleashed upon Thedas. It might not just be Solas.”

McKay isn’t quite ready to reveal the party members quite yet, but does provide some hints on what to expect, including some initial info on romances.

“We spent a lot of time making our companions feel authentic based on their own unique experiences within this larger fantasy world, which in turn makes the relationships you form with them feel even more meaningful. We’ve tapped into Dragon Age’s deep lore and explored its most iconic factions to bring each of the seven companions and their stories to life,” he says.

“I won’t spoil next week’s reveal but I can say we’ve created a story where you can impact the world and the companions that surround you. Player agency is important to the Dragon Age: The Veilguard experience and allows each player to form unique personal connections with their companions of choice. And, yes, you can romance the companions you want!”

McKay says the decision to pare the number of companions from nine to seven is mostly down to it being the “right number for the story we’re telling.” Each one is intended to represent a unique faction or element from Thedas, and will feature their own arc with “stories of love and loss, each with meaningful choices and emotional moments.”

He continues, “As you accompany your companions to unravel their backstory and earn their loyalty and friendship, you’ll visit more regions of Thedas across a deeper variety of biomes than any Dragon Age before it.”

McKay mostly sidesteps questions of how Inquisition’s characters might fit into The Veilguard’s story, though he does confirm that it will once again feature an original protagonist similar to The Warden, Hawke, and The Inquisitor, noting that each Dragon Game has its own standalone story with its own thread and conflict.

“Games across the Dragon Age franchise are never designed as a game-over-game continuous storyline. There are familiar arcs, factions and heroes important to the overarching Dragon Age universe that weave through the new story we’re telling,” he explains. “The previous games, characters and events aren’t the anchor of Dragon Age: The Veilguard it’s about your adventure with a brand new cast of companions that you must rally to fight against a powerful force.”

He once again teases another villain beyond Solas: “I don’t want to get too deep into spoiler territory but I can say that the Dread Wolf is not the only god players need to be worried about.”

When The Veilguard is finally revealed on June 11, BioWare’s presentation will include 15 minutes of gameplay from the opening moments of the game, which will help set up the story. On the gameplay front, McKay says that The Veilguard’s combat was a “big area of focus” and something the team wanted to push forward. Among other things, McKay says that The Veilguard will feature an ability wheel designed to give players more direct control over their characters.

“As an RPG, strategy in combat is important as you bring two companions to every fight. Each companion brings unique powers and abilities that have a direct impact on how you choose to take down the enemies at hand,” he says. “To add another layer to that strategic element, we’re introducing a new ability wheel where you can pause the action and set up your next move – whether it’s your companions’ abilities or your own.

“The ability wheel opens up a huge amount of strategic possibilities, giving players the ability to control the flow of combat and link powerful combinations of abilities between players and their companions that can quickly turn the tide of any battle. We think we’ve found an exciting balance between fun, fluidity and strategy for every encounter.”

“This is a game and experience that continues BioWare’s tradition of single player RPG storytelling set in the epic fantasy world of Thedas,” McKay says. “We know Dragon Age fans and the community have been waiting a long time for the next game and we could not be more excited to share our gameplay reveal on June 11.""

[source] (emphasis mine)

[bellaxgiornata]

A Favor from the Devil |Chapter Five|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Mom!Reader Word Count: 4.5k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; Domestic abuse, depictions/mentions of sexual assault, struggles with past trauma, canon-typical violence, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut (possibly more warnings to come)

a/n: Another update to this little series that I'm really enjoying working on! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @kee-0-kee @dethspllz @a-half-empty-g1rl @senjoritanana @kezibear @sleepysleepymom @danzer8705 @scriptedmoon @flowher @wanda-maxamommy @guccicloudz @loves0phelia @withasideofmeg @mattmurdock-wife24 @sarraa-26 @mylastarrival @mdanon027 @kmc1989 @abiisscared @dreamtofus @rebeccapineapple @peterman-spideyparker @littlenosoul @writtenbyred

Rubbing at your tired eyes, they’d begun to burn from staring at your computer screen all day long. The mindless data entry you'd been doing for most of the day had been turning your brain to mush, your eyes frequently glancing down at the corner of your screen to check the time. You were dying for your shift to end so you could pick Evie up from preschool and go relax at home for the evening. 

Secretly you were also hoping to hear that her second week at preschool had started off better than her first. You'd already been told by her teacher that she'd been very quiet all of last week, barely speaking unless she absolutely needed to. And it sounded like her lack of speech was affecting her opportunities for making friends in her class, which had only broken your heart to hear. Because every mother just wanted their kids to succeed and be happy, yet here your daughter was seemingly miserable and struggling. 

Jaw tightening, your eyelids slowly lowered. All your fault , the voice in your head reminded you. She's like this because of you .

“If I have to stare at a spreadsheet any longer I'm going to lose my damn mind.”

Your eyes flew back open at the familiar voice of Amira behind you. She'd become your only real friend in the city ever since you’d moved here and gotten your job and you always welcomed a free moment to chat with her at work.

Pushing your chair away from your small desk, you turned it around to see her leaning against the entrance to your cubicle. She was raising a mug of steaming tea up to her lips which were stained a dark purple today. 

“Gary in the bathroom?” you asked her.

Swallowing down her sip of tea, she nodded before a grin spread on her face. “Of course he is,” she told you. “I swear that man shits at the same time every day.”

Biting your lip, you fought down a laugh. She wasn't wrong, though. Your boss always kept a tight schedule–even when it came to his bathroom breaks. 

“Gives us time to catch up, though,” she said. “And I hope your weekend was more eventful than mine because I did nothing but clean and wished I'd won the lottery so I didn’t have to come back to this damn place.”

You shrugged in response. “Not really anything interesting to share on my end,” you told her. “Found a park near our building that I brought Evie to play at. Did some cleaning and some grocery shopping, then I brought Evie to the library for Sunday morning story time. That's about it.”

“Hmm,” Amira hummed out, glancing down at her mug as she tapped a finger thoughtfully along the side of it. “Sounds about as eventful as my weekend.”

You watched as she brought the mug to her lips and took another drink. As she did, your eyes slid over to the clock on the wall behind her. You still had twenty minutes left.

“What about your love life?” Amira asked. “Anything more going on with that?”

A bitter laugh fell out of you as your attention returned to Amira. Shaking your head, you tried to stifle the humorless sound.

“You know I'm not looking for a relationship,” you reminded her. “That's the absolute last thing I want right now.”

“So you mean to tell me if some man asked you out, you wouldn't even consider it?” she asked. “I mean, I'm sure you've got needs, you know?”

You glanced down at your hands that were now fidgeting in your lap. “That's not exactly a priority in my life anymore,” you told her. “And I'm not sure I could even trust someone to get that close again anyway. Besides, the only man who's taken an interest in me is my weird neighbor from across the hall.”

“Oh?” Amira asked, instantly perking up. “Why's he weird?”

“I don't know, I somehow just keep running into him,” you answered with another shrug. “It's just odd. And he's always so…friendly?”

“Like friendly friendly?” she asked. “Or like I'm-going-to-peep-through-your-panty-drawer-when-you're-not-home friendly?”

You shook your head, your mind returning to your neighbor and that damn charming smile of his that he always threw your way. You still weren't entirely sure what to make of him. He'd seemed sincerely concerned when you'd encountered him on the roof that one night, even though you figured there was no way he could know that it was you he'd talked to briefly. And he had brought you that lasagna, which as weird as that had been, you couldn't deny it wasn't a nice gesture. Assuming it really was a no strings attached lasagna.

“I don't know,” you answered. “I haven't exactly figured it out, but I'm also not really interested in trying to, either. As long as he leaves Evie and I alone, I don't really care. But he…brought us a lasagna last week.”

“He did what now?” Amira asked, suddenly straightening up. 

“He brought us over an entire lasagna,” you repeated. “Apparently he's a lawyer that does a lot of pro bono work in Hell's Kitchen and I guess his firm often gets paid in food? So he brought us a literal whole lasagna.”

Amira's head tilted to the side, her eyes narrowing curiously back at you as her finger began tapping against her mug again.

“Is he one of the men from Nelson, Murdock, and Page?” she questioned.

“That sounds about right,” you answered.

“Alright girl, now you need to tell me which man it is. Nelson or Murdock?” she pressed. “Cause they are both fine as hell and I've only ever heard good things about them.”

“Murdock, I think?” you answered, brow furrowing in thought. “He said his name was Matthew?”

Amira let out a long, low whistle that only had the crease between your furrowed brows growing. A bright smile lit up her face immediately at the look of confusion that landed on your own. 

“Are you telling me,” she began, “that Matthew Murdock, the hottest lawyer in the goddamn Kitchen with a heart as big as his ass, is your weird and friendly neighbor?”

“Yes?” you replied hesitantly. 

Amira barked out a laugh, shaking her head. “I would let that man peep through my panty drawer while I'm home if he was my neighbor. Are you kidding me? That man is sexy as hell and with all the things I've heard about him in bed?”

You pulled a face at her comment, your nose immediately scrunching up. If his sexual prowess had somehow landed in your co-worker’s ears then you could only imagine what that said about him. Good in bed or not, that definitely didn’t brighten your view of the man.

“So he sleeps around, I assume?” you asked her, a look of disdain still on your face. “Because then I can completely assure you that he's absolutely not my type.”

Amira sent you a stern, serious look, her laughter immediately fading. “I think he'd be great for you, actually,” she said matter-of-factly. “He's a kind-hearted man who'd fuck you senseless and then leave you be. What more could you want?”

“The just being left alone part?” you half-joked. “Seriously, I don't care what he looks like or how good in bed he is, I don't want anyone, Mira. I've got enough on my mind as it is.”

“You're right,” she agreed, tone softening. “In all seriousness, how've you been holding up?”

Leaning back in your chair, you exhaled a long sigh. You were close with Amira, and she understood quite a bit about your situation, but you still weren't about to be entirely honest with her. It wasn’t necessary for her to know absolutely everything about your past.

“I've been alright,” you answered. “Things are going as good as they can, I guess. Wish this job would give me a raise so I could afford living here, but I'm making it work.”

“How're the nightmares?” Amira asked.

You shrugged. “I don't think Evie is having nightmares exactly, they're more like–”

“I meant you,” she cut in, shooting you a knowing look. “I imagine you have them, considering what you’ve been through.”

You could feel your throat closing up and your mouth going dry at the fact that she’d been able to see right through you so easily. How she kept managing to do that remained a mystery to you. Hands beginning to tug at the hem of your blouse, your attention returned to where they fidgeted once more in your lap. 

“I'm–I'm fine,” you lied. “I'm managing.”

“You know, I think you'd benefit from some self-defense classes,” Amira said slowly. “Probably make you feel a whole lot safer at least. Have you considered something like that?”

“You know I can't afford self-defense classes,” you told her quietly. “I'm lucky to pay rent on time and put some food on the table as it is. Anything extra goes to Evie.”

Amira opened her mouth, clearly about to say more, but her eyes darted over the top of your cubicle. A frown settled on her lips as her eyes narrowed and you immediately recognized what that look meant.

“Appears his bathroom break is over,” she grumbled, pushing off of your cubicle wall. “Guess that's my cue to pretend I'm busy until we can get the hell out of here.”

You sent her a strained smile before she ducked out of your cubicle. Slowly turning your chair around back towards your desk, you sighed in defeat as your work glared back at you on the screen. Eyes darting down to the clock on your computer, your shoulders dropped when you saw you still had fifteen minutes left. 

The elevator felt like it was moving exceptionally slow this evening, partly because you were eager to get back to your apartment and change out of your work clothes already, and partly because the lift had been fairly crowded tonight with everyone else coming home from work. 

As you impatiently waited for the elevator to make its multiple stops on its ascent to the top floor, Evie silently held your hand, her eyes remaining fixed on the numbers changing above the doors each time it stopped at a new floor. She’d barely spoken more than four times on your entire walk home. From what you’d gathered from the lopsided conversation, this week of preschool had started off about the same as her previous one, which had only further dampened your mood after the long day at work. So when the doors of the elevator had finally opened onto the sixth floor and you’d stepped out of it with Evie in tow, you weren't thrilled to see that not only was your strange, friendly neighbor in the hallway, but he was in the hallway with two other people. 

Your hand gripped Evie’s tighter in yours as you reluctantly began to make your way down the hall towards your apartment and inevitably towards the small group that was chatting in front of your neighbor’s door. You desperately hoped you’d be able to get away with just giving them a polite smile before ducking inside your apartment, but your hopes were dashed the moment the pretty blonde woman on your neighbor’s left spotted you passing the door to 6C and making your way ever closer to them. 

“Oh, Matt, I think your neighbor is actually home!” she exclaimed. “What perfect timing!”

Briefly pausing midstep, your eyes grew wide in fright at being acknowledged by the little group. What could they possibly have wanted with you ? Trying to regain your composure, you plastered a stiff smile on your face, but your pulse increased the second your neighbor’s covered gaze fixed on you. It felt as if he was looking right at you, almost as if he knew exactly where you were walking as you finished making your way down the hallway. The gentleman on his other side turned at the waist, focusing his attention on you next. You wished that you could drag Evie straight through the wall into your apartment with how uncomfortable all three sets of eyes were currently making you feel. You heard Matthew say your name and the hair on your forearms rose at the impending conversation.

“Yeah?” you answered awkwardly, pausing in front of your door.

Directly across the hall, Matthew took one step towards you before holding out a hand. Eyes darting down at what he was offering you, your brows shot up onto your forehead in surprise when you noticed it was a plate of peanut butter cookies covered in cling wrap. Beside you, you heard the excited inhale from Evie just before she began ecstatically tugging at your hand. 

So he hadn’t forgotten the cookies he’d mentioned to your daughter a few days ago when he had dropped off that lasagna. You’d entirely expected him to, but now you supposed you’d at least give him credit for not crushing her hopes. She’d certainly excitedly mentioned the cookies he’d promised to you a few times over the duration of the weekend, and you’d tried your best to prepare her for disappointment when he inevitably forgot that he’d ever brought them up. But here he was proving you wrong and not disappointing your daughter like so many others would have.

“If I recall,” Matthew began, a broad smile on his face, “I think I owe someone peanut butter cookies today. If that’s still alright with your mother, of course.”

Evie’s head immediately darted up in your direction, her eyes big and pleading. “Please, mama?”

You knew there was absolutely no way you were about to deny her and decline the baked goods, especially after having already agreed to accept them in the first place. Trying to maintain that strained smile on your face, you briefly released Evie’s hand and cautiously took the two steps across the hall to accept the plate from Matthew’s outstretched hand. Your heart was pounding loudly in your ears the whole time, your body begging you to just get inside and away from this situation already. 

“Thank you,” you replied quietly, taking those two steps immediately backwards towards your door and grabbing Evie’s hand again. “I know Evie appreciates that you remembered her.”

Matthew had opened his mouth to reply, but your daughter shocked the both of you when she spoke before he’d even had the opportunity to get a single word out. Your eyes flew to her in surprise the moment you’d heard her voice.

“Thank you, Mr. Murdock,” she said.

For a second you stood there dumbfounded, holding the plate of cookies in one hand as you stared down at your daughter. She had intentionally raised her voice when she'd spoken, speaking loud enough to be heard–something that wasn't common for your daughter because she often spoke so softly whenever she did speak. As you openly gaped down at her, you saw that she was even smiling up at him, wearing a smile so bright you couldn’t even recall the last time you’d seen one like it on her face. 

“You’re very welcome, Evie,” Matthew replied, having focused on the place where she stood when she’d spoken. “Maybe another day I can bring you something else from the office. Assuming, of course, your mother is okay with it.”

His attention returned to you and you immediately began shaking your head. Whatever this was, you weren't about to begin accepting his constant charity. Or worse–to feel like you owed him something in return after the conversation you'd had with Amira earlier today. You absolutely weren’t about to sleep with your neighbor to thank him for his kindness.

“Oh, no, really,” you began, “This was plenty already. You don't need to bring us anything else.”

“Mrs. Anderson makes a mean cherry pie,” the gentleman beside Matthew said, drawing your eyes towards him. “You might not want to say no until you’ve tasted it. It will quite literally change the way you see the world.”

You shot him a tight, friendly smile as you once more shook your head. “I’m sure it’s great,” you continued politely, “but really, that’s alright. We don’t–”

“Who’s that?” 

You stopped short at the sound of Evie’s question. Head shifting over your shoulder, you saw Evelynn’s little hand pointing across the hall. Following her finger’s path, you saw she was pointing at a newspaper partially folded beneath the blonde woman’s arm. The woman looked startled before she glanced down at the newspaper tucked against her body. 

“Oh,” she exclaimed softly, slowly beginning to pull it out from beneath her arm.

She glanced down at the front page before exchanging a look with the man on Matthew’s left immediately afterwards. Something strange and tense seemed to settle among the three of them as they stood across the hall from you. Clearing her throat, the woman quickly plastered a smile on her face before she turned, bending partially over and holding out the picture on the front page of the paper for Evie to see. 

“You mean the man in this photograph?” she asked. 

Evie nodded quickly, her eyes wide and glued to the image that you couldn’t quite see at this angle. 

“That’s Daredevil,” the woman answered.

You briefly caught a note of something strange in the way she’d replied, but the thought completely left your mind when Evie whipped around towards you, her finger still pointing to the paper.

“That’s him, mama!” she shouted. 

Pulling a face, you shook your head in confusion. “That’s who, cricket?” you asked.

“The man!” she exclaimed. “On the roof!”

“What?” you asked.

The woman straightened, a smile on her lips as she showed you the paper. Your eyes narrowed, squinting at the dark and somewhat blurry image of a man in a costume crouched on a roof. You could vaguely make out the shape of something like horns on his helmet. 

Eyes flying up toward the woman, panic rose within you. If this psycho was real, then there really was a man out on the rooftops that your daughter had been seeing. Which was a completely horrifying thought.

“Who is that?” you nearly demanded. “The deranged man running around in a devil suit?”

“Oh, uh,” the woman stammered, clearly taken by surprise. “Daredevil isn’t–he's not crazy. He's just uh–”

“Kind of like a superhero who beats up bad guys,” the man next to Matthew quickly cut in. “Though technically he is considered a vigilante.”

Quirking a brow at him, you shook your head in disbelief. “A superhero vigilante?” you asked skeptically. “What do you mean?”

“He’s known to protect Hell’s Kitchen,” your neighbor’s smooth voice cut in, your eyes drawn back towards him. “You don’t have to be afraid of him, though. I can assure you, it’s well known that he’s never harmed anyone that wasn’t a criminal.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, eyes narrowing at him, “but there’s a madman dressed as a devil running around on the rooftops near my daughter’s bedroom at night and you think I have nothing to worry about?”

“He’s more like a protector, not a lunatic!” the other man told you. “He protects the people of Hell’s Kitchen specifically. He’s rescued all kinds of people from human traffickers, he’s stopped various gangs–”

“He even saved my life,” the blonde added, a hesitant smile on her face. “Once or twice.”

“And he’s helped our law firm put bad men away,” your neighbor said. “I can assure you, he’s not a danger to you or your daughter. No matter how…startling it is to hear your daughter say that she’s seen him outside of her window.”

Jaw tightening, your eyes darted around the three of them, scrutinizing them closely. It was strange how quick they were to defend this costumed lunatic. You also weren’t thrilled at the prospect of a violent man running around outside your apartment at night while you and your daughter slept. How were you supposed to believe his violence was any different than Daniel’s? How could you trust he wouldn’t break into your apartment and hurt either of you? How could you know he was safe?

“I told you.” 

Evie’s small voice broke through your thoughts, your attention returning down towards her. She was smiling proudly up at you, the sight only further confusing you.

“Told me what, cricket?” you asked.

“He protects us,” she answered.

Frowning, you found you weren’t entirely sure what to make of the masked vigilante that this city seemed to respect, especially after the comments these three had made. And you didn’t quite understand why your daughter wasn’t afraid of him and repeatedly kept seeing him at night–something that made you more uncomfortable now knowing he wasn’t imaginary. 

But you knew there was nothing you or the three people across from you could do about this Daredevil, and you really wanted to end this interaction already. Clearing your throat, you glanced back over at Matthew. There was a conflicted twist to the shape of his mouth, the corners a bit downturned. You ignored it, the feeling of your growing panic the only thing that mattered right now.

“Thank you for the cookies,” you said tersely, “but I should probably get Evie inside and make dinner. I hope you have a good evening.”

You turned your back on the three of them, releasing Evie’s hand so you could dig the apartment key out of your purse. In a hurry you began to unlock your apartment door, not remotely surprised when you heard your neighbor behind you.

“I hope you both enjoy your evening as well,” he replied. “And like I said, I’m just across the hall if you ever need anything.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you pushed your door open without a backwards glance or another word. You ushered Evie quickly inside your apartment before you darted in after her, locking the door and the deadbolt behind you.

“Seriously, man?” Foggy asked in exasperation. “Her little girl has already been seeing you out on the roof? They’ve only been here a week, Matt! You need to be more careful!”

“I thought I was being careful!” Matt shot back, pacing in front of his apartment windows with his hands on his hips. “I didn’t think she’d caught me the first night when I’d been on their fire escape, but she must be seeing me when I’m heading back home at night.”

“You do need to be more cautious,” Karen warned from the couch. “You don’t need her to see you heading back into your apartment. That could be dangerous.”

Foggy let out a low groan, his body slumping forward in one of the armchairs. Matt ran a hand across his mouth, feeling a little rush of panic inside of himself. He really hadn’t realized your daughter had been so aware of him coming home in the evenings. She was surprisingly observant. 

“The last thing we need,” Foggy complained, “is for your neighbor to realize who Daredevil really is and to take that information to the authorities. That’s dangerous information that could get you killed, Matt. Or disbarred and imprisoned. Hell, it could get all of us disbarred and sent to prison!”

Matt shook his head, still continuing his pacing. “That won’t happen, Fog. I won’t let it, don’t worry,” he assured him.

“Well,” Karen began slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, “at least her daughter trusts Daredevil. Even if her mother thinks he’s batshit crazy. I suppose that’s something. I don’t know what, but it’s something.”

“Not helping,” Matt grumbled. “I don’t need her to be more terrified in her apartment than she already is. I imagine her being put further on edge won’t make it any easier for me to get closer to her.”

“Matt, buddy, did you ever think that maybe she won’t want your help?” Foggy questioned. “Maybe you should just, I don’t know, let this one go? You can’t help everyone, dude. I mean, she seemed pretty cold at the end of that conversation out there.”

“She seemed scared,” Karen softly corrected, her attention focusing on Foggy. “She was scared, not cold, Foggy. There’s a difference.”

Matt came to a stop at the edge of his rug, his hands readjusting the waistband of his dress pants. He’d felt your fear the moment your daughter had recognized Daredevil as the man she’d apparently been seeing at night in that newspaper. It was just as strong of a rush of the feeling through your body as when you’d first seen him in the hallway. Daredevil terrified you.

“Karen’s right,” Matt told Foggy. “I could feel her fear. Someone has her afraid. And the thought of some other violent man running around the city at night only seemed to scare her further. Something is going on, and I’m not going to stop until I figure out what.”

“Dude–”

“ No ,” Matt nearly growled the word out, immediately quieting Foggy. “Don’t you tell me to let this go. They’re a part of Hell’s Kitchen, Fog. And I’m going to make sure they’re safe. Because no one hurts the people of my city. I won’t allow it.”

“Alright,” Foggy relented, nodding his head slowly. “Okay. I hear you, Matt. I just worry you’re going to drive her away in your best attempts to do the opposite is all. She seems quite set on keeping you at a distance.”

Foggy wasn’t wrong. Matt knew you were repeatedly pushing him away at every opportunity he took to get closer. And he was afraid of pushing a little too hard and having the opposite effect of what he was after. But your daughter, somehow, seemed to be reacting to him differently now. That first night when you’d both run into him in the hall after moving in, she’d matched your terror. But tonight…he hadn’t felt her fear towards him. Or towards Karen and Foggy. Though you were still putting your walls up. 

“He protects us.”

Your daughter’s words about Matt’s alter ego ran through his mind. She’d been so positive in that thought, he’d read it in the tone of her voice and the steady beat of her heart. She wasn’t afraid of Daredevil, not like you appeared to be. And hearing that from a scared little girl had somehow further softened him to the both of you in that moment. This was quickly becoming less a matter of Matt trying to do the right thing while attempting to keep the people of his city safe, and instead steadily becoming something personal to him. Even if he didn’t fully understand why exactly that was himself.

“I’ll figure it out,” Matt murmured, running a hand across his forehead. “Somehow, I’ll figure out how to get them to let me in so I can help.”

[rassvetsky]

would literally lose my fucking mind if you wrote carmy like touch starved, idk maybe everyone is staying after to celebrate something and he’s dragging you into his office to eat you out with absolutely zero shame because he needs it so bad

your wish is my lifelong quest i love you, hope i did it at least some justice loml

Carry You Away With Me

carmen "carmy" berzatto x fem!reader

He looked sheepish for a moment, lips curling into a grin for another split second before returning to his natural expression, eyes finding yours and locking you into his gaze. "Do you think anyone would notice if I took you elsewhere right now?"

[4k] | chef ill be honest with you this is just porn, needy!carmy (he's fucking adorable), office sex if that's even a term, established relationship, cunningulus, unprotected sex, cum-play. my apologies to the church

reblog and/or like for a kiss, feedback much appreciated! not proofread.

It was around 11 when you returned to the restaurant with a bottle of champagne cradled in your arms, watching as Gary and Tina pushed a few tables together to make a bigger one for the rest. Eating together wasn't a rare occurrence, but it often only happened an hour before service in the morning— dinners were mostly had at home or skipped altogether, depending on the importance one put into their health. But tonight called for an after-hours get-together, one that Sydney and Marcus pushed for when Ebraheim showed up in the morning with the latest issue of Gastronomica, featuring a very familiar name this time around— Carmen Berzatto.

"You know— I bet you can like, make it to a Vogue issue sometime later on, too."

"That's not exactly food-related."

"I'm just saying, dream high and—"

The few clinks of a spoon against the glass cut Fak right off and Carmen made a mental note to thank god for that later on, his gaze lifting from the long, full table that everyone was surrounding to the source of the sound; the now-empty champagne glass that Richie held.

"Can we all take a moment to stop stuffing our faces with this whatever-the-fuck it is to congratulate my cousin right here?" he spoke up, bringing a smile to your lips as you reached for Carmen's hand from under the table and muttered out "chou à la crème", another dish that Marcus had been experimenting with lately. A short chuckle left Carmen's lips when he vaguely heard what you said, and he gave your hand a firm, appreciative squeeze before rubbing his thumb along the back of your palm. "Gastronomica isn't just any magazine. I think it's supposed to be one of the good ones, like—"

"—the Vogue of food!"

"Maybe! Who knows, anyway— really, I'm proud of this mess of a man and you all should be, too." and maybe this was the most affection that Richie could whip out in public, but it was more than enough— because despite his hate for having the spotlight directly on him, Carmen was currently busy offering a smile to Richie, which the other reciprocated shortly before sitting back down, his quiet little hum of affection drowned out by the mutterings of 'cheers' along with the clink of everyone's glasses.

Proud was an understatement for this little dysfunctional found-family.

But you knew Carmen, you knew that he'd much rather skip on the compliments and pats to the shoulder; and you were way too sure that he'd need a moment to himself sooner or later. That moment came almost fifteen minutes after, when everyone split themselves into a few groups of completely different conversations, scooped up chocolate sauce and cream and small pieces of the delicate pastry got left behind on the empty plates— you felt Carmy's fingers wrapping around your upper thigh, concealed by the dimmed out lights and the table.

"S'up?" you returned your attention to him upon feeling his fingers tapping along to some nonexistent rhythm on your clothed skin, not too invested in the story Richie was busy telling everybody with the loudest voice he could muster to begin with.

He looked sheepish for a moment, lips curling into a grin for another split second before returning to his natural expression, eyes finding yours and locking you into his gaze. "Do you think anyone would notice if I took you elsewhere right now?"

"Elsewhere?"

"Not too far, jus' my office. For a couple of minutes at most." he leaned in closer to your ear just so you could hear him over the 2012's pop playlist Manny whipped out earlier, a completely mesmerizing turn of events when he started singing along to a random Katy Perry song— but that leaning closer action proved Carmen to be just another self-saboteur because he was feeling specifically out of place all day and to feel your perfume so close was a pull with a force out of this world. He couldn't pull back away then, couldn't return to his own chair and you had no choice but to push him away manually. "I promise."

"Any ulterior motives I should be aware of?" you grinned, letting your fingers curl right over his own on your thigh— and making a mental note to ease him into the habit of using hand moisturizers regularly sometime, upon the roughed up feel of his skin.

"You wound me, baby." his expression seemed to linger over offense, but his eyes told a completely different story; and before you knew it, he was pushing his chair back to get up, patting Gary's shoulder on his way to the back of house, a momentary turn of his head just so he could silently tell you to follow with his eyes.

And that, you did, despite the raised eyebrows of Richie's that you met along the way.

The kitchen smelled like a different kind of citrus, one that only belonged in dishwashing detergents as you maneuvered through the stations, cleaned up from the day's worth of filth. From your peripheral vision, you noticed Carmen reaching behind to undo the strings of his navy apron, leaving out the top string that he'd have to pull over his head until you could catch up and he could get to the office. His shirt was, again, as pristine as ever and it was a work of magic how he managed to come back home with a perfectly clean white t-shirt each day, if not for a few little drops here and there.

Finally, he pushed open the door of his office for you and you stepped in, finding your way to his desk in the darkness to flip the switch of the small light that illuminated the paperwork mostly. When your eyes found him again, the apron was long gone— tucked away in a corner, folded, although not so neatly. "Happy now?"

Instead of a reply, he just plopped down on the old, squeaky chair by the desk, thighs spread and arms wide open to make space for you. You took the offer right away, seating yourself on one of his thighs but still balancing yourself on your feet too, in order to not just dump your whole body weight on him and potentially numb out his leg. He couldn't care less, as he wrapped himself around you tightly and pulled you closer. "I don't really give a shit about Gastronomica."

"I figured," you mumbled against the material of his shirt, lungs filling in with a scent that only he could carry— a surprisingly pleasant mix of cigarettes, sweat, and gravy. It belonged to him, at least. "When's the last time you gave a shit about anyone's opinion outside of here, anyway?"

A soft hum left his lips, one that feigned agreement— but he wasn't paying much attention to what you've been saying to begin with, mind all muddied with specific moments in time that included you. Come to think of it, he'd been like this all day, even when Richie jokingly smacked him across the face with the magazine or when Tina elbowed him while he was trying to explain why she had to strain the mixture twice to get a flowing consistency— on the back of his mind, there was always you; always the lack of time he got to spend with you when the rush hour got too much to bear and he couldn't bring himself to lift an arm when he came back home to you.

When was the last time he properly touched you, took his time to memorize all the little ridges and beauty spots across your body, he couldn't remember.

So as you spoke, listing out all the reasons why he should be proud of himself for all the accomplishments, Carmen's arm curled around your waist and his fingers found your thighs again, the warmth of his palm seeping through the material of your leggings and from the way they teased upwards, you knew where this was going. "... that you managed to turn— are you not listening?"

His smile was so smug that you wanted to either kiss, or slap him. "Not really. But go on."

"Carmy, if you actually think that I'll do anything non-churchy with you here while everyone's literally twenty feet away, you're so wrong." you breathed out, because that's all you could do when his lips ghosted over the side of yours, before trailing down to where your jawline met your neck. He only hummed as a reply, clearly not giving a shit about your opinion either at that moment— but to say that you weren't enjoying the attention would be a blatant lie.

His fingertips traced the seams outlining your underwear through the extra layer of fabric while his lips latched to your neck, finally, with his warm breath hitting against the sensitive skin and the usual wet nature of his kisses leaving behind a glistening spot of adoration. You leaned into it, rather shamelessly— legs parting and fingers carding through the locks on the nape of his neck, and that only encouraged him further, causing him to whisper out a curse and a few sloppy words of praise. "Just let me, hm? Please?"

The sense of desperation in his tone was enough to push back any words of disagreement that you could blurt out at that moment. You knew you had to power through, it would be so embarrassing and disrespectful to let him have his way with you right here, while everyone else was still at the FOH— but the way his palm covered your clothed core and his fingertips teased the slight outline of your slit, all while his pretty lips were oh so busy whispering absolute filth in your ear was slowly taking away all the care you had in the world. "Carm— not a good idea."

"You weren't saying that last week, right here," two weeks ago, to be exact, but you couldn't blame him for not being able to tell time apart. "Had to cover your mouth and all, s'loud for me—"

"You're getting carried away." you chuckled, the deepest of breaths still not enough for the capacity of your lungs as you tugged on his locks slightly, prying him off of your skin just so you could get a look at him.

"Let me carry you away with me. Please, fuck— I can't think of anything else when you're on my mind." he pulled away a little from your neck, eyes of pristine skies staring right at your soul with the expression of a kicked puppy— he knew exactly how to get his way when he was miserable like that. His fingers were still against your heat, expecting permission. "Ten minutes only, just let me touch you."

You could recognize that tone, that incurability way too well— it was often reserved for nights shared between hushed whispers of promises, where he was too needy to form a single thought and all he could do was to cover your body with his and curl onto you, to feel your warmth against himself and to be one body and one soul for an hour. Uncommon in nature, even rarer to take place in a room that he reserved for professional affairs only— but the heart wants what it wants.

To his surprise, you suddenly pushed your lips against his— letting his fever take over you as well, with your hands clutching onto his shoulders and hair. You could hear the slight groan escaping his lips when his fingers breached under the tight waistband of your leggings, pushing the material down slightly with the bend of his wrist before turning his hand a little to tug it all downwards, urging you up on your feet. You got up from where you were seated, now standing between his legs with your back bent just so your lips would be on his, but he broke the kiss with a smile that took over when he finally pulled down both articles of clothing at the same time. Your back straightened when he managed to push them both down to your ankles, your hands on his shoulders to help with your balance as you stepped out of them, feeling his moist lips over your abdomen for a second before he pushed you backwards slightly, towards the desk.

He took that momentary advantage to get up on his feet and pin you right in between his own body and the desk, hands blindly pushing the loose folders to the side. You felt too exposed when his palms gripped the underside of your thighs just to prop you up on the desk, lips finding and panting against yours, a clear indication of his need seeping through the way he tugged and nibbled before his tongue found its way to caress yours.

There was nothing nice about it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care— not when he whispered your name against the plush of your lips so sweetly when your fist closed around his hair, not when he didn't even know what to do with his hands; grabbing, fondling at every inch of your skin that he could reach shakily. He pulled you flush against his body, letting you get a feel of the harsh dark denim against your bare center and you had to bite into his lower lip to stay quiet, ultimately earning a groan from him when his hands slipped under your shirt.

"Bear," you whispered out, his lips chasing yours when you pulled away to speak— which made you chuckle quietly, as he looked at you again. "Ten minutes."

"Ten minutes," he parroted, the usually wide eyes of his now hooded, pupils blown out as if he was looking right at the sun. When you reached in to kiss him again, you couldn't catch him fast enough— he was already holding onto your thighs to crouch down, looking up at you with a Cheshire grin when you spread your legs a little further apart, a force of habit.

Leaning back on your palms against the desk as much as the cramped space could allow, you took a deep breath— but it wasn't enough to prepare you for what came next when his tongue trailed a bold line across your slit, spreading your folds apart gently. It was a pleasant routine, one that you never quite got used to; because when he was down on his knees with his tongue tracing abstract shapes across your clit in a teasing manner, it was all about you and to think that a guy who often rushed things and went through life at a 2x pace would slow down just to put all of his attention on your pleasure only was more delightful than any compliment one could attain.

Carmen's fingertips were perhaps digging into the skin of your thighs a bit too hard, but could you possibly complain? The tip of his tongue dipped between your folds to spread your essence upwards, a mix of his saliva and your wetness covering your clit when he closed his lips around it and sucked— letting out a blissed groan, one that he'd scold you for if you were the culprit. You could only imagine how hard he must've been at that moment, he was always a sucker for situations like this, with the thrill of doing something so forbidden, right where he could be caught and your taste on his tongue, thighs on either side of his shoulders.

Imagining it didn't help your situation at all, it was hard to focus on one coherent thought when he kept flicking his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves but you forced through— with the thought of the blunt tip of his length all flushed and leaking in your palm, curses leaving his soft lips whenever your fingers got a bit too tight around the girth. He liked it when you put your focus there, tip of your tongue tracing the slit and leaving kisses over it while the rest of your palm jerked him off— firm and slow.

And you'd always let your lips stray when he got close, deciding to suddenly bite into the skin of his inner thighs or to lightly trace his perineum with your tongue, just to have him reduced to a writhing, whining mess with not enough air to survive in his lungs. He'd spill onto your fingers and you'd clean him up right away, moving your way upwards with wet little kisses until you reached his lips. And he was one dirty fucker because tasting himself on you when you kissed him all sloppily was probably one of his favorite things in the world.

Drowned out in all the thoughts, you didn't notice how close you were until your thighs were shaking around his shoulders, and he finally added his fingers into the mix then— his middle and ring fingers easily breaching through, grazing all of your sensitive spots from the inside. You had to press your palm against your mouth to not let a sound then, when your climax finally hit you, and you'd probably slide right off the table with how quaky your whole body was at that moment if it wasn't for Carmen's strong grip on your body, holding you right where you belong.

The position was a bit merciless on his legs so far but he made it up to his feet again, giving you a light peck on your lips before his fingers found his mouth, his tongue circling the digits to clean them up as he stared right at you, into your soul. He pulled them out with a slight pop, and licked his lips clean. "How long did we take?"

"I don't know," you panted out. "I was busy imagining the way you come."

His light laughter brought a tender, yet bittersweet ache to your heart. "Fuck, you get off to that?" and you could tell him all about just how beautiful he was, and how much it turned you on to see him blissed out in pleasure— but you didn't know if your lung capacity allowed for it at that moment, as being quiet came with the benefit of holding your breath for longer than you should. "Tell me more."

You giggled against his lips when he braced himself on the desk with his two hands holding onto the edge on both sides of your thighs. Both of your hands moved down to the front of his pants, too fucked out to care about timing as you palmed him through the material just to see that grin on his lips falter. "I'm gonna make you jack off and watch sometime." you mumbled, slowly pulling the zipper down after setting him free from the belt and the button. He hummed, forehead to forehead, before reaching for another little peck.

"As much as I don't see why I should jack off while you're in front of me," he spoke, a sharp intake of breath cutting his line of thought halfway through when your fingers finally wrapped around his cock. "but— shit, if you're into that… Only if you do it w'me, though. I wanna watch too."

"You don't get to watch." you sighed, bringing him closer with your legs to line his length up with your entrance. "You're just gonna sit there and come on your hand like a loser."

Carmen couldn't help the short snort that left him. "Are you even capable of being mean to me?"

"Mm-hm, I'm very mean when I wanna be." and right after that, his tip slid right into your cavern, pulling a deep exhale from both of you when he pushed a bit deeper. His lips found yours, mostly to keep the noises at bay while his hips rolled into yours, grinding against you before retreating a little, only to push in harder this time around.

You felt so full and blessed that you didn't even have to imagine anything to get lost in the feeling.

His pants slid further downwards with each thrust until they pooled around his ankles and your thighs wrapped tighter around his body, trapping him in. His arms were so delicately wrapped around your waist that you had to hold onto him with your whole remaining power to not slide further towards the wall, but he couldn't exactly notice that when he was feeling so damn lucky, whole length wrapped in a warmth beyond his comprehension.

And again, you couldn't blame him, because neither of you managed to notice when the skin slapping against skin got a bit too loud, and your lips pulled away from his just to breathe out the filthiest little nothings, like how much you needed him to fill you right up to the brim. "Fuck, give it to me." your hips met his thrusts half-way through when you pushed yourself against him. "Carmy, come inside me, please."

"Yeah? Are you gonna take it all?" his voice sounded broken, and his fingers would surely leave imprints on your hips with how tight his grip was. "Won't let you waste a drop, baby. I won't."

Somehow, through how feral he was with the way you were begging him, the responsible side came forward and captured your lips in his again— because while his team was full of respectful people, they were also little shits who would never live it down if they heard those beautiful sounds that escaped your lips with each hit of his blunt head against your sweet spot. The thought somehow egged him on further— he couldn't exactly decide if he was too possessive to let anyone hear or if he was possessive enough to make sure everyone knew he belonged to you, but at that moment, both of those thoughts turned him on too much, enough for him to feel his high approaching. And judging by the way your walls cramped down on him tighter with each passing second, you weren't too far behind.

You could feel yourself gushing around him, coating both of you in your essence beyond simple cleaning, but that was a matter to worry about later, not when the love of your life was balls-deep inside of you, his rough grunts right against your ear when he reached to press his lips right below it. "Close?" he mumbled, and even though your mind was too busy to hear and comprehend him properly, you nodded— feeling his arms wrapping around you tighter, pulling you closer to the warmth his body provided. And while as much as you'd like to keep this going for longer, witnessing his pace falter and voice break as he moaned out your name, filling you up in the most delicious way slowly was enough to have your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure, and to have the knot finally snap.

Your whole body was buzzing, shaky even when he held you so tight against his chest as if you'd vanish right there and then— something that he always did after sex, no matter the circumstance. You giggled wearily against his shoulder, leaving a few kisses here and there before he pulled away slightly to pull you into a kiss— nothing like the ones you shared in the past minutes, this one was all sweet and loving. "Might drip if I pull out."

"You can't stay there forever, Carm."

"Oh, but I want to." he huffed out but still moved to slowly pull out of you anyway, having you both hiss in sensitivity and just like he thought, his come was ready to spill all over the place. Quick-thinker in nature, he caught his seed with his fingers right before they could go further, pushing them back into you just to hear you gasp— and slap his shoulder playfully.

"You're a fucking freak."

"Shut up— round two at my place? Kinda wanna see where that watching me jerk off fantasy of yours might lead us."

a/n: once again i could be easily manipulated into breaking into your house with a part two, who knows

also @carmensberzattos consider this a marriage proposal

[cod-dump]

Trouble (teen!Ghost au)

___

They weren't bad kids but they were easily influenced.

"Don't your dads drink?" Alejandro pressed, Rudy rolling his eyes when he continued on the matter.

"Ale, don't be a bad influence."

"I'm not a bad influence! But come on- No parents in the house and we're just to behave?"

Simon never felt the need to impress Alejandro. They became friends a few weeks after Alejandro first moved here and went to their school. How? He's not sure but he considers himself stuck with the boy. It didn't matter if he wasn't 'cool' like Alejandro.

But Kyle? He was confident, but he was a bit shy around Rudy. Alex being there in the mix didn't help.

"I mean- Dad has a bottle of whisky downstairs in the basement. For when work gets a bit difficult."

"Oh, whisky?"

Alejandro perked up and Rudy showed interest, it was too late for Simon to stop Kyle.

"No- That's Dad's. He'll know if we go down there! Besides, I'm not drinking with Gary in the house!"

Gary was currently downstairs in the living room with Farah, both deciding to binge watch a bunch of Disney movies until bedtime. Alejandro just snorted.

"We'll be up here, away from the bichito."

Alex decided to join in, not helping the situation despite clearly trying to, "Doesn't Nik drink? Could grab from his stash since he's much more laid back."

This encouraged Kyle who silenced Simon before he could speak, "He has this special vodka he gets imported from Russia! But we don't know where he hides it, he doesn't even like sharing it with Dad."

Alejandro sighs, "Special vodka sounds killer..."

Rudy wasn't much involved in the conversation, just silently judging his boyfriend. Simon was mostly stunned by this rebellious nature Kyle was showing. Drinking? He was sixteen!

"Bro-"

Kyle stood up just then, "Then I'll go grab the whisky."

Simon immediately grabbed Kyle's sleeve and dragged him back to the floor.

"No! Are you crazy!?"

"C'mon, Si. Just a sip."

"No no-"

Simon couldn't stop Kyle. He was already out the room, jumping over Riley and narrowly dodging a very confused Smokey. Alejandro was laughing, mostly from disbelief. Kyle Price was a good child, where was this coming from?

Simon was going to kill him if their father didn't.

"Wow-"

"Ale I'm killing you later."

"Not my fault! You know I tease!"

Simon groans and gets off the floor. He had to get Kyle before he broke something or successfully stole their dad's whisky. He couldn't even imagine the old man's heartbreak at the discovery of not just his baby boy growing up but also adopting a rebellious phase. It would certainly kill him.

Simon was in the hall when Riley started barking excitedly. He ran past him whining and went straight down the stairs. Then Alex called out worriedly.

"There's a car in the driveway- I THINK IT'S YOUR DAD OH GOD-"

Alejandro cusses and jumps up, "Oh Kyle is so dead."

Simon, without thinking, grabs his phone and goes to call Kyle, Thankfully the nerd was never without his phone.

"Si, I'm already down here you can't stop me-"

"Dad's home early!"

Kyle was quiet before he spoke in a hushed tone, "Can you distract him?"

"Kyle-"

"Simon I am rethinking every decision I ever made right now please distract him."

Simon cusses, "Fine! I mean, you're only in trouble if you get caught."

Simon rushes downstairs while Alex, Alejandro, and Rudy stay where they are, probably waiting to see how this ends without getting caught in the crossfire. Right there in the living room was John, petting Riley while Farah and Gary sat on the couch, curled up in blankets with pillows and snacks.

"Back already?"

"For a moment, date night is still on just need to drop this file off."

In his office. Downstairs. Where Kyle is.

Simon ran into the living room and jumped at his father, the man wheezing at the sudden embrace from his son.

"What's with the hug? And when did you get so big?" John said with a light chuckle in his voice, arm around Simon's shoulders and a hand in his hair.

Simon didn't respond to the question, just squeezed onto John's middle, Riley whining at their feet. Farah immediately caught on that something was going on. John also caught on but immediately leaning into something had upset Simon and the teen didn't want to talk about it.

"Si... is everything okay?"

Simon wasn't sure if playing into him being upset was even safe. Running to his father the moment he walked in the door when his friends were staying over? Simon didn't want to risk John assuming they did something.

"Just... missed my old man. You could die any minute so I need to appreciate you whenever I can."

Farah's jaw dropped, dumbfounded, while Gary was absorbed in Finding Nemo and couldn't care less. John cared, the statement of course was alarming.

"Uh, do we need to talk? Nik will survive if we cancel date night."

Simon remained still, eyes wide. Was stirring the pot that was Simon's mental state worth preventing his father from catching his brother trying to steal a bottle of whisky?

I fucking suck at distracting people.

"I... Just love my dad."

Oh that didn't help.

"That settles it. I'm putting this paperwork away and you and me are gonna have a little talk."

FUCK FUCK FUCK-

"I can put it away," enter Nik. Simon certainly didn't have enough arm strength to hold bother men.

"UH- THE BASEMENT IS HAUNTED."

Farah blinked before she made a conclusion in her head. She calmly stood up, taking her blanket and tucking Gary in to the couch before she fast walked into the hall, out of sight but certainly not out of mind.

"... what are you kids up to?"

"Not even going to entertain the haunted bit?" honestly Simon was disappointed by that. Not even Nik took a bite at that.

"I'm not scared of ghosts, малыш."

Nik walked past them, taking the paperwork that laid on the end table as he went. Simon tried to pull away from John with the intention of jumping Nik, but his father kept a firm hold on him.

Gary was no longer watching the TV and instead was staring at Simon and John. Great, now he was more entertaining than Finding Nemo. This was a shit distraction.

"Simon. What's going on? Be honest."

Simon didn't get a chance to get a word out before Nik returned. With Kyle. Kyle was staring at the floor in shame when Nik held up John's whisky. As predicted, John was heartbroken.

"Kyle? No-"

"I... was curious..."

"You-"

John squeezed Simon and Simon feared his father's sanity.

"You were helping him?" Oh he sounded truly betrayed.

"I tried stopping him!"

"Oh you did an excellent job," Nik said with a laugh. He shut up when John looked at him with fire in his eyes.

"... I said I would buy you a nice liquor cabinet but no, you didn't want to be perceived as that kind of father."

"You-"

"-could've avoided this."

John scoffed and Simon clocked Nik trying to defuse the situation by turning the attention onto him. He had released Kyle who backed behind him.

"Simon. Go take Gary and Kyle to your room. I need to have a word with Nikolai.

Nik, for his credit, didn't flinch at the use of his full name. Simon parted from his father and grabbed Gary, who thankfully didn't fight him and just went along with him. He slipped past Nik and Kyle followed without word.

They darted upstairs and after a minute Riley followed. They didn't hear yelling, John and Nik weren't the types to yell. Simon predicted they would focus on the liquor cabinet comment before actually talking about what Kyle did or attempted to do. Either way things would be fine in the morning just awkward.

When they slipped into Simon's room Alex and Farah were there, Farah sitting on the bed while Alex was still on the beanbag.

"Uh, where is Ale and Rudy?"

"Oh they climbed out your window not long after you ran downstairs. They didn't want to be involved in Kyle's punishment."

Oh those assholes.

"Smart for Ale. His dad would murder him if Dad called him about picking him up."

"Didn't he drive here?"

"Ale's dad has towed his car before to ground him."

Alex thought Simon was joking and laughed. Simon wasn't joking.

Kyle couldn't find any humor in the situation and walked over to Alex, slumping onto the beanbag and shoving Alex to the floor.

"Oh why did I do that..."

Farah, having been filled in by Alex, rolls her eyes, "You're a boy, a natural idiot. Seriously, if you guys wanted a drink you should've had Ale go buy you something."

Silence.

Then Kyle sat up, "I'm going to kill Alejandro."

___

Why Johnny or Hong-Jin weren't there? Johnny went to Scotland to his material grandmother and Hong-Jin? Hong-Jin has a gaming tournament. Couldn't figure out how to fit these facts into the drabble but didn't want them to remain unknown lol

[talaok]

Okay . What about pedro × reader

Hear me out ...

They are dating for a few months but keeping it a secret the reader is also an actress and in her new movie her Co star is into her and with the interviews everyone is talking about in in social media . So pedro gets jealous and show up at her work ... maybe they fight or idk . I'm not sure about the ending

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: Pedro’s jealous of one of your co-stars

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst because I didn’t feel like doing a lot, and allusion to smut

A/n: why do yall like jealous Pedro so much!?

Pedro was not a jealous man, he knew you were his, just like he was yours.

He didn't mind the stares you'd attract from other men, he didn't mind the shameless flirting everyone always directed your way, and he didn't even mind having to see you kiss other men on screen... but there's a limit to everything.

He'd stumbled by accident in the comment section of your most recent post, a picture with the cast of the new movie you were shooting, and god if he wished he hadn't.

He meant to write a cute comment, because even though nobody knew about you two, nobody ever seemed to notice the borderline flirty words he'd leave under your pictures, and now he understood why.

He wasn't completely oblivious to the online conspiracies about you and Andrew, you had told him about it, about all the edits and fans and ships or whatever, however, there was a small detail you had forgotten to inform him about: the guy obviously liked you.

And who could blame him right? 

Pedro. He could fucking blame him.

It didn't take long before he was furiously stalking his own girlfriend's Instagram.

you look stunning darling

Darling? When the fuck did he start calling you that?

I think I just had a heart attack

Oh, fuck off

And that wasn't even the worst part. Fuck no. The worst part was the fucking videos. the interviews. The way his eyes never left your fucking body. The way he touched your hand and lingered just enough for him to notice. the way he didn't even try to hide his pathetic attempts at flirting even when he knew he was being fucking filmed.

By the time Pedro shut his phone, he was ready to go have a “talk” with this guy

But first, he needed to see you. Now.

__ __ __

"God please if it's Gary tell him that I don't need to practice that scene again, I got it." you rolled your eyes as you instructed your assistant to open the trailer's door after hearing a knock.

"sure thing, but I don't think he can be so easily persuad-" her voice trailed off as she took in the man in front of her.

"Hi" she smiled at Pedro "It's-it's not Gary" she shot you a look.

"what, who is it?" you asked, momentarily forgetting the lipstick in your hand as you got up.

"Pedro?"

"hi sweetheart"

"what are you doing here?" you couldn't hide your confusion.

"Just wanted to see you," he said, entering the trailer.

"Oh," you smiled, before glancing at your assistant "I'm sorry Ana, could you give us a moment?"

"no problem, but remember you need to be on set in '15"

"yes ma'am" You joked, giving her a pretend salute.

She chuckled as she closed the door behind her.

"they have you on a tight schedule huh?" Pedro murmured, wasting no time before wrapping his arms around your back, forcing you flush against him.

"they do" you nodded, standing on your toes "So you're not gonna get what you came all this way for" you taunted, leaving a quick kiss on his lips.

He grunted, unsatisfied, and pulled you back for another kiss. This one much hungrier.

"Is that what you think I only think about?"

"well you don't make much of a case for yourself" you laughed softly.

"that's your fault" he breathed "If you weren't the most stunning woman on earth maybe I wouldn't be so all over you"

"maybe" you shrugged, lazily drawing patterns on his chest "Maybe not"

"I need to talk to you," he said, suddenly more serious.

A cloud of dread dropped onto you.

"oh," you murmured, taking a step back "about what?"

He looked around the place before finding your eyes again.

"I want to tell everyone"

You frowned 

"I want to tell people we're together"

You were taken aback.

He was always the one opposed to it. He didn't want you to get caught in all the drama and gossip inevitably heading your way, no matter how many times you told him you didn't care.

"What?" you smiled "Why- I mean why now?"

"I want everyone to know you're mine. And I'm yours" he said " including Andrew"

You shot him a look "Andrew?"

"You didn't tell me he's obsessed with you"

"what? He's not"

"he is baby,"

"how would you even know?"

"I saw it"

"When? You've never met him"

"I saw the comments, and the interviews, and the videos"

"And you think just because in an interview he did what? made me laugh, he likes me?" you scoffed "That's ridiculous Pedro"

"I don't want to tell everyone we're together just because you're jealous of a guy I work with," 

"that's not why I want to tell sweetheart" he reassured you, taking a step towards you " I want everyone to know just how much I love you, that's why. And if that means that guys like Andrew will back off... even better"

"He's not into me" you insisted

A sly smile pulled at his lips "God baby, you really have no idea what you do to men, do you?"

"He's not into me."

"Sure" he mocked "and tell me, when was the last time he didn't do something you asked him?" He asked, moving some hair out of your face.

An almost comical silence spread through the room.

"That's what I thought" he nodded, using his fingers to raise your chin.

"Maybe he's just polite"

He leaned closer, his mouth ghosting yours "Or maybe he's just in love with my girl" he breathed a moment before kissing you deeply, one hand to the back of your neck and one to your ass.

"so what do you say?" he asked once you parted "You ready to tell the world?"

"Only if you are"

"oh you have no idea" he murmured, suddenly picking you up and pinning you against a wall.

A small gasp fled your lips, but he silenced it with a kiss.

"Pedro..." you warned him, tightening your legs' grip on his waist.

"they can wait" he read your mind "You're the start after all"

You couldn't help but laugh at that.

"you're a bad influence" you breathed, causing a smirk to land on his lips as he kissed your neck.

"sweetheart?" he suddenly asked

"Yeah?" you murmured, already out of breath.

"Whose trailer is next to this one?"

You paused a moment, pondering your options.

"Andrew's" you finally spoke, going for the truth “Why?”

By the look of it, that’s exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Baby,I think you know why”

[postmortemnivis]

could be read as a part two of this post

“when i met you,” price started, “you were a mess of a man.”

simon grunted in response, his arms crossed over his chest almost as if he wanted to protect, shield himself from price’s words. each cut deeper than knives, aiming straight for the strong walls he’d built around his heart, the ones that only you had been able to tear down.

a mess of a man. he knew it, he didn’t need to hear about it too.

“at first, i honestly didn’t think you were going to ever become someone.” the older man admitted.

johnny’s laughter could be heard from the living room, where he and kyle were chatting about god knows what, probably the last poor girl johnny shagged in a bathroom stall at a pub the previous night.

“you didn’t?”

price shook his head. “as i said, a mess of a man, simon.”

a mess of a man. simon knew himself, he knew he was no saint, no good: he was a murdered, the angel of death that could be seen in the middle of the field, his dark glow foretelling the end of anyone who found himself in the middle of his bloody path. his hands were stained with the blood of many, the same hands he refused to touch you with; the only thing that kept him sane was knowing he wasn’t ghost, ghost’s crimes were shielded from simon by his black gloves and balaclava.

simon looked at price as his hand rested on his shoulder. he remembered what it felt to be neglected by his own father, and price knew it. price always seemed to know everything about his boys, he could see right through him. what simon needed was guidance, and price would’ve given it to him.

“nothing to be ashamed of,” he continued, “most of you boys are, you seek for something more. think of johnny, he enlisted when he was sixteen. you enlisted the day of your eighteenth birthday. we all know that if you’re a responsible man you don’t run to the army. we’re all crazy, messed up men.”

price also knew they were reckless, a suicidal loyalty bound to him. after all, their job attracted the beasts, the outcasts, the sadists, the worst of society.

simon rolled his eyes when price referred to them as boys. the man was less than ten years younger than simon, but he still felt the paternal pressure and instinct to protect the boys. his boys.

“wha’ made you change your mind?”

price motioned simon to move further into the kitchen, away from the people that were invited to his house.

“her.”

your voice echoed as you walked out of the bathroom, letting johnny finally hold his little niece. gary was walking behind you with the brightest smile on his face. gaz made a comment about how the three weeks old baby looked just like you, with simon’s dark eyes and pale blonde hair. if only he knew you helped simon dye it every month and a half, him sat on the edge of the bathtub and you standing between his thighs, his hands firm on your waist as he—for once—looked up at you instead the other way round.

you agreed with a chuckle, looking around for simon.

“look a’ the lassie, she’s already an uncles gal!” johnny’s laughter filled the flat. from the corner of his eyes, simon could see the person he’d grown to call his brother hold his newborn daughter.

“her?” he looked at you, the softest and most subtle smile crawling on his scarred face. simon struggled to hold back his smirk.

price nodded. “i remember we all could tell that you met someone. you’d become less… rigid. you’d smile more, were more clement with the recruits.”

“she changed me.” simon shrugged, attempting to hide the smile that would try to crawl on his face anytime he’d think about you. even after years, between a marriage and now a child, his eyes would light up at your thought alone. that’s the impact, the effect you had on him.

“that’s good, simon.” price spoke. “we’re all happy you’re doing better. we remember how you used to-”

“okay, got the message.” simon interrupted him. “loud an’ clear, john.”

his life before you seemed so distant and he almost couldn’t remember of a time where you weren’t by his side yet. like a far away dream, closer to a nightmare than a dream, but still something that didn’t look like the life he was living now. he didn’t need to remember a bit of it, what was the use? he had you now, everything before the day you met didn’t matter anymore, it didn’t exist anymore.

price sighed, looking to the ceiling as he tried to find something in his pocket. “coming outside for a smoke?”

simon shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “nah, capt. quit a while ago.”

it’d been months since you’d showed him the pregnancy test that shook his whole world. he’d fallen to his knees in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by worried recruits, johnny immediately sprinting close enough to check whether his lieutenant was okay but far enough to give you two privacy.

“promise me ‘m not dreamin’.” he murmured, pulling you closer by wrapping his arms around your waist, hiding his face in your chest.

you brushed his short blond hair back, biting your lip as you smiled. you could feel your eyes tingling, tears threatening to spill at any given minute. “you’re not, si. we’re gonna be parents.”

you chuckled, leaning down to kiss his head and felt your white work shirt getting wet by his tears. you looked around at the faces of the confused recruits, and you smiled, because you knew you were the only person who’d ever truly know how the scary lieutenant, the ghost, really was.

“we are.” he whispered before kissing your still flat stomach, getting back up and giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. “thank you.”

in the nine months he’d been taking care of you like a person on their deathbed—really not necessary, si, i can still do the dishes by myself—he’d stopped smoking, and treated himself to just one beer every first sunday of the month.

he had worked on himself, hard.

for you and for your daughter. he wanted to be a better person, a good man. he wanted to be nothing like his father, that having haunted and scared him for so long and being the main reason he always tried to postpone having children, what truly held him back,, but he tried to be a better man.

that was what distinguished him from his father, he tried to be better.

leaving the military was sure next, after fixing the downstairs bathroom faucet and oil the doorknob of the closet. he wondered how the boys would take it, but in the end he didn’t really care, he knew they’d understand.

“quit.” price repeated, eyebrows raised as he put his lighter back in pocket. he wasn’t a social smoker, but knew better than to smoke near a baby, even if he would’ve excused himself to the balcony.

simon smiled as he heard you scold johnny for throwing the little girl in the air. “what if you drop her?”

“ah wid never, lass.” he reassured you, laughing at the slap he got on his scruff.

“you’re a good man, simon.” prices hand found its way on simon’s shoulder again. “you went through a lot, but you’re still fighting for a good cause, you didn’t let it change you. that’s what makes you a good man.”

simon was about to deny, say he wasn’t, he was the worst man there was, but then you walked into the kitchen, all smiles.

“hey si.” you smiled. “baby’s hungry.”

simon immediately stretched out his arms to hold the baby, a bottle already in his hands as soon as those words left your plush lips, your lashes batting up at him.

you wrapped your arms around one of his strong biceps and smiled up at him and then at price.

“cute, isn’t she?”

“is indeed.” john nodded, smiling under his thick moustache.

before he decided to leave the kitchen to leave you three some privacy and join the boys in the living room, where johnny had apparently put on a rugby match—“scotland-wales, for fucks sake, lad!”—he shot simon one final knowing glance.

simon returned the look, your eyes too focused on the little girl in her charcoal grey onesies to notice.

“you okay, si?” you whispered, but your husband's eyes were unfocused, staring off into space as price’s words kept replaying in his head like a broken record.

he nodded, kissing your forehead almost instinctively. “yes, love.”

you smiled up at him and then at your daughter, simon’s mind travelling an hundred miles an hour, waiting to crash on itself and get brought back to reality. price’s words echoed in the background of his brain, quieter each second that passed.

a good man.

tagging who asked:

@mr-sol @v1x3n @m4dyy @softangelheart @redzluvvesage @nittoka

[decaffeinatedcandycane]

Gary "Roach" Sanderson headcanons

Warnings: None

Gary is a fairly positive person, especially when he is around his teammates.

Likes to play pranks on everyone, especially Ghost.

Encourages therapy, even though Price had to trick him into seeing a therapist.

Odd sense of humor

On the spectrum

Slow games piss him off

Gets so focused on missions, he needs 2-3 days in order to get back in routine.

Physical touch love language. Very touchy with people he feels close to.

Is into gift giving and loves giving stuff he finds, or creates, to people.

If you let him talk, he will TALK. I mean, 3-8 hours will be spent of you listening to his current hyperfixations, or interests.

Mind is sometimes faster than his speech. He might stop for a minute, reboot and get back to talking.

Definitely a jokester. Will crack a joke in an uncomfortable moment.

Places small weird figurines in newbies rooms to freak them out. Thus said, he also hides in between the walls, or vents and make weird sounds - creeping the hell out of everyone. (He may or may not have recorded the reactions and would have uploaded them, if Price haven't caught him.)

Teaches recruits about vines simultaneously while teaching them old survival techniques.

CHAOTIC all around.

Tea party someone? Bonnets are involved. (If you lack a bonnet, it will be provided for you!)

Loves "baby" Soap (the sergeant). Shares lip-balm and with and ONLY him. Nobody knows why~

Eats Kinder eggs in front of Graves while maintaining an INTENSE eye contact with him, to assert dominance.

Good with the violin. Heard Gaz sing in the showers one time and assisted him with his instrument. Yes...while in the shower.

Duo with Gaz in an Las Almas local bar. Brough both Ale and Rudy to tears.

Has a major in History.

Walks around base with a wing shaped backpack and antennas.

Has a small cottage in a rural area, which only few people know about.

Loves writing and sending letters. Makes his own wax seal stamps.

Can crochet and is obsessed with cottage-core everything.

Is obsessed with planning stuff out and mapping tasks in his notebook, with highlighters.

Has a sweet tooth; drinks his tea with lots of sugar.

Has an expensive coffee taste. Prefer drinking coffee from small barista shops.

Favorite tv character: Jake Peralta from b99.

Loves horror, fantasy and sci-fi movies. Talks too much through them, or get engrossed to the point he forgets to move for the duration of the movie.

As a boyfriend/spouse:

Attentive boyfriend.

Will give you a gifts just because.

Loves talking about everything.

He will ask if you want to visit his cottage with him, but if you are not into this, he will not force it upon you. It will stay his own secluded hideout.

But, if you are into the cottage, especially cottage life, oh boy, Roach is all in. He will be over the moon and insist you move in there as soon as possible.

Be sure that his team knows about you, before you even meet them. Roach is constantly babbling about you to whoever listens.

He will text and call you whenever he can, needing to hear your voice.

He is on the fence when it comes to children. Can have, but not particularly interested.

Tries to cook for you, fails miserably, or get anxious when the food take a long time to cook. Cooking is just not his thing. Thus being said, he still cooks easy fast meals, he knows he will not f*ck up.

Prefers canning and preserving stuff instead.

Loves picnic and coffee dates.

Doesn't smoke, unless he has a nightmare, is anxious, or a night out - drinking. If you smoke, its okay, he won't judge or exclude you. Will steal and bring you a cigar from Price, if you smoke cigars. But shh... don't tell the captain.

[foxaftershocks]

Heyyy first off I just want to say I’ve read all your Lars x reader content and I’m obsessed omg you are so talented!!

If you’re still happy to take requests… :)

I can’t stop thinking about a ball/fancy dinner and dance type situation with Lars and the reader and probs the rest of the Ghostbusters. This would be pre-love confession and Lars is all smitten cuz the reader’s in a pretty ballgown or something but doesn’t know how to tell her. And then because I’m a wh0re for jealous Lars maybe reader dances with someone else and it fuels him to confess later on?

Hehehehe I hope that all makes sense!! Thank you so much <333

Here you go! I hope it was worth waiting for.

“I don’t know about this.”

You tugged on your skirt as you descended the staircase, the fabric silk, your leg able to move through the high slit up your thigh. You were watching your feet, your heels sky high, terrified of falling on your face after tripping, a twisted ankle and embarrassment painting your cheeks pink. your hair was swept up off your neck, a few strands falling around your face, curled and pretty and nothing like you usually looked. Painted lips and painted skin, you felt like a trussed up clown and yet when you’d looked in the mirror you’d felt a sense of wonder at your own reflection.

“You look beautiful, stop fussing,” Callie said, not even looking at you as she straightened Gary’s bowtie.

Phoebe had her nose wrinkled, tugging on the cuff of her suit. Trevor was looking at his reflection in the side mirror of the echto-1, fiddling with his hair as Lucky shoved at his shoulder. Lars was standing off to one side and when you looked up upon reaching the bottom of the stairs you felt your breath catch. His gaze swept over you, fingers frozen on the bridge of his nose as he adjusted his glasses, mouth falling open. A wave of self consciousness went through you and you smoothed your hand over your skirt again.

“How do I look?” you asked him, voice soft, unsure of his answer.

“You look… I mean, you’re so… You’re…. You’re…”

“Come on you lot, we’re running late,” Callie said, interrupting before he could get a single sentence out, “in the car. Now.”

It was a shuffle to get everyone into the car. Your thigh was pressed against Lars, shoved into the car together, pinned between him and Phoebe. Lucky and Trevor were together, whispering together, and you were trying to hard to not fiddle with your skirt anymore. Darting a glance up, Lars eyes swept away from you, looking out the window as the city began to rush past.

“Now, you’re all to be on your best behaviour,” Callie said, turning to look at them, “the mayor will be there and we don’t need him getting any more reasons to hate us.”

“He doesn’t hate us,” Trevor said, “we have his full support. He said so. Can’t go back on it when it was on every news channel.”

“Oh to have such innocence,” Lucky said, ruffling his hair.

He shoved at her, going back to fixing it in some kind of order. Your lips pulled up in a smile and you felt a pinky finger brush over your thigh. Your eyes darted up, find Lars looking down at you with a twinkle in his eyes. His own lips were pressed together and you knew he was holding back some kind of snarky comment. You lent into him, shoulder to shoulder, his warmth seeping into yours.

The car pulled up outside the venue, coming to an abrupt stop. The door opened and he slid out, offering you a hand, helping you out in your tight dress and your stupid heels. You held on, looking up at the beautiful building, lit up as other well dressed people streamed up the steps.

“Alright, you lot,” Callie said, striding up the stairs, “remember…”

“Best behaviour,” Phoebe muttered, moving past you.

Lars hand in your was warm and steady, helping you as you took slow steps towards the door. You wouldn’t have agreed to be there if the entire team hadn’t been expected to make an appearance. Phoebe wouldn’t have either if her complaints were anything to go by, but there was something about seeing Lars in his tux. You wound your arm through his, letting him escort you into the event.

The ballroom was beautiful, some of New York’s richest people collected together to celebrate the continued thriving of the city. If you hadn’t felt out of place on the steps outside, being surrounded by such juggernauts of industry in the city certainly did. Your fingers tightened around Lars’ arm, anxiety building. You weren’t meant to be there.

Unfortunately, you were swept through into the crowd on Lars’ arm, surrounded by the rest of the team.

Sitting at the table, it was clear your invitation had come through gritted teeth from the mayor. You were on your own, shoved into a far corner, the lighting leaving you in shadows and right under a vent blasting cool air down on your team. You shivered, not wearing something conducive to such a cold temperature. Your dress was built to be beautiful, not practical.

“What do you think this is?” you asked Lars, looking down at the soup in front of you.

“Green,” he replied.

“And cold,” you said, picking up your spoon.

“At least it isn’t foam,” he said.

“I’m sure we’ll see that later. The people are demanding it. Rich people haven’t discovered solid food yet. Kind of like babies.”

His eyes cut over to you and you could see the way his lips were tugging up at the corners. You offered your own smile to him, leaning into his warmth. You loved the way his lips formed words, vowels and consonants sounding so much better on his tongue. His eyes dipped down, taking you in as your shoulder found his, resting there the way it had so many times before during late nights in the lab, working side by side in companionable silence.

“Oh look,” you said as the next course was placed in front of you, “foam.”

“Filling,” he said, scooping some up.

“At least I won’t burst out of this dress,” you said, expecting to hear his chuckle but instead finding his eyes flicking over you then back to his plate. You thought in better light his cheeks might be a delicate pink but you couldn’t be sure in the shadows.

You managed to get through the remaining courses, wondering how rich people lived. You weren’t looking for more food, the corset top of your dress tight enough to make that feel dangerous, but for any normal person it was enough to leave you wanting. Was that the secret? Rich people were always just hungry? You were never going to find out.

“I’m going to the bar,” you said when it became clear that the left over awkwardness from dinner wasn’t dissipating, “it is open, right?”

“Best behaviour,” Callie said, catching your arm as you shuffled around the table.

“I won’t get drunk,” you replied with a roll of your eyes, “I promise.”

Music was just starting up as you reached the bar, strings striking a chord. Securing your glass of wine, you stepped aside, watching as some took the floor, the ballroom clear enough for actual dancing. You hadn’t been expecting that, despite the invitation mentioning dancing. So rarely was there actually dancing.

Money seemed to offer everything.

You knew the wine you were drinking was better than the stuff you bought from the shop on the corner of your block. It was richer and more full bodied and yet you weren’t sure it was worth the hike in price. Either would make you feel warm and loosen you up enough to consider enjoying the evening.

You watched the swirling couples on the floor, most older than you, clearly the kind of people who would drop thousands of dollars to sponsor the ballet or a museum. They might have entire wings named after them for the generous donations they gave. All you did was chase ghosts and build silly little machines to trap them. They would be horrified if they saw how you usually looked in your daily life.

“I always find these kinds of event stifling.”

You looked up, a tall man having sidled up beside you, watching the dancing couples as well. His sharp jawline and dark hair led you to believe he was handsome. Strong eyebrows and piercing blue eyes when he looked down at you, full lips pulling up in a small smile, just enough stubble on his chin to make you think he didn’t want to look as if he was trying too hard.

“It might just be that I have a habit of making my tie too tight,” he said, “Dylan Wilson.”

You murmured your own name in reply as he held out a hand to you to shake.

“You’re one of the Ghostbusters, right? I saw you guys get that thing in Central Park,” he said, “it was very impressive.”

“All in a day’s work,” you replied, never quite sure how to take compliments about your work.

You went back to watching the dancers in silence. The more of the wine you drank, the more you felt a yearning to be out there, moving to the music too. Only you weren’t sure you knew how to dance to that kind of music. Couples swept past, circling the dance floor.

“Would you like to dance?” Dylan asked you.

“Oh, I’m not sure that I…” You didn’t want to admit that you weren’t quite high class enough to know how to dance.

“I promise I won’t step on your toes or let you fall,” he said, offering his hand again.

You hesitated another moment before sliding your hand into his. Placing your almost empty glass of wine down on the closest surface, you let him guide you onto the floor. His hand landed on your back, your’s resting on his shoulder. Thinking too hard about your movements, you were stiff and stumbling, overthinking every single thing.

“Am I making you nervous?” he asked.

You dragged your gaze up from your feet to his face, finding amusement dancing in his eyes. You shook your head, tongue darting out to wet your lips. You saw the way his eyes followed your tongue before he looked away from your mouth.

“There’s not much reason to dance like this when you’re a Ghostbuster,” you replied, going for a half truth.

Handsome men weren’t something you had a huge amount of experience with. Certainly not when they were self assured and in a suit that probably cost more than an entire year’s worth of your rent. He chuckled softly, tightening his hold on you.

“You lot are heroes to the city. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were invited to plenty more of these events,” he said.

“We’re more focused on the work,” you replied.

He let you continue to dance in silence for another few moments, but the conversation had done it. You had relaxed, focused more on what he was saying than on your feet tripping over themselves. It was easier if you focused on him, letting him lead you in the dance, keeping your mind working on other things. Such as the wiring you’d been working on before you’d had to get ready for the night. It kept sparking in the wrong place and then not working and you were having trouble figuring out why.

“You’re thinking awfully hard,” he said, interrupting as you followed one of the wires in your mind, trying to find the source of the sparks.

“Just… thinking about some work stuff,” you said.

“No ghosts set to make an appearance tonight?” he asked.

“I hope not. It might be difficult to fight them in this get up,” you replied, unthinking.

“It might not be conducive to ghost busting, but you do look exceptionally beautiful,” he said.

Your cheeks heated and you had no answer for him. It was the kind of thing you’d hoped Lars might have said to you when he saw you, but coming from one of the rich and powerful was still pretty good. You ducked your head, not wanting him to see you so flustered. You felt that if you gave him an inch he might take a mile, the privileges he was accustomed to making him willing to push for what he wanted.

You knew you were making a lot of assumptions about him but it was hard not to when you knew everyone around you had bought tickets that cost more than your entire wardrobe would be valued at. Your team was the charity case, there to be paraded out for the rich and powerful like entertainment, to be gawked at and spoken about like you weren’t real people.

“I can’t be the first one to tell you that tonight,” he said.

You weren’t going to admit that he was.

“I’m very out of my element here,” you said, figuring it was close enough to the truth to get you through the conversation.

“You’ll grow used to it,” he replied.

“Only if I keep being invited,” you said.

“You will.” He sounded so confident, “either through your own merit or maybe because… you’ll be on my arm?”

He phrased it like a question and he seemed hopeful but there was a moment when you thought maybe he was so certain of your answer he didn’t feel the need to ask. You straightened your spine, not giving him an answer.

“Can I cut in?”

You let out a relieved breath, stepping back from Dylan. For a moment his hands tightened before he released you. You turned, offering yourself up to Lars, standing behind you, his lips pressed together into a thin line. His familiar blue eyes were focused on the man behind you, harder than you’d ever seen them, tension holding his body tight.

Your hand landed on his shoulder, his own resting on your waist as he swept you away. Your breathing came easier, the familiar scent of Lars enveloping you, washing away the expensive aftershave lingering in your nose. And yet when you looked up, expecting to see your saviour, his eyes were focused on something over your shoulder, hard and uncompromising.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you said softly, hoping to draw his attention back to you.

“I bet there’s plenty you don’t know about me,” he replied, not relaxing like you’d been hoping.

“Lars,” you said. His gaze flicked down to you then back to whatever he was looking at over your shoulder, “Lars.”

Your hand slid to curl around the back of his neck and finally, finally, his eyes met yours. You raised an eyebrow at him and while he didn’t look any calmer, there was a smile flirting with the corner of his lips.

“You’ve been making friends tonight,” he said.

“We have to make a good impression, right?” you replied.

“Who is he?” he asked.

“Dylan someone. I don’t know. He’s not important,” you said.

“He’s set to be the next Zuckerberg so others might not agree that’s he’s not important,” he replied, “and he’s making it no secret he’s interested in you.”

“What are you talking about it?” He was being obtuse, and you thought he was doing it on purpose.

“He’s watching us very closely. I think he’s trying to work out if we’re involved and probably calculating how to change that answer if it’s yes.”

You snorted. His arm tightened around you, pulling you half a step closer, bodies slotting together. Your amusement faded and you didn’t know what to say, the lines of his body making your thoughts spiral where they rested against yours.

“I know. Ridiculous to think you’d ever be interested in me.” His hand slid to your hip, burning through the thin material of the silk, “hard to compare when you have Dylan Wilson flirting with you.”

“Lars,” you breathed.

“Not that is surprises me. You’re the most beautiful woman in the room. You’re the most beautiful woman in every room. What man wouldn’t want you?”

You flushed at the compliment. It was the exact thing you’d wanted to hear from him for so long and yet he’d always remained silent on the matter. Even tonight, when he’d first seen you, no words had come. And now he was saying it but through gritted teeth, like he didn’t want to.

“Lars, you don’t-“ you tried to say.

“But you should know that you’re worth so much more than that piece of shit looking to spread AI across the world until humans are no longer necessary. You deserve the world and he can’t give it to you,” he all but growled, eyes turning back to the man presumably standing over your shoulder, eyes so hard it almost scared you.

“I know,” you said, soft to his hard.

“He’s just… so… what?”

His eyebrows drew together as he looked back to you and you had to press your lips together to keep from smiling. Confused Lars was a rare sight and yet you loved it every time you saw it. Your nails scraped along the skin of the back of his neck and you felt the full body shudder that went through him.

“He’s a pompous ass. And it’s hard to like someone when I’ve already got my eye on someone else,” you said.

“Oh.”

You took the last half step closer, closing every inch of distance between the two of you. With your hand on the back of his neck you could draw him down, leaning in until your lips brushed his ear as you whispered.

“And jealousy is an interesting look on you, Lars,” you whispered, “it’s a bit sexy.”

His hand flexed before tightening on your hip. You let him return to his full height, his cheeks flushed but his eyes staring down at you with such intensity it made your own cheeks heat.

“Who said I was jealous?” he asked, but he didn’t quite so cool about it.

“No one had to. You’re not hiding it very well,” you said.

“If not Wilson, who have you got your eye on?” he asked.

“If it’s not obvious by now, maybe you’re not as smart as you claim to be,” you said.

“I need you to say it,” he said.

You let him lead you in the dance for a few more moments, standing on a precipice. Your words would change everything. It was possible to turn around now, to keep it as it always was, to not go out on a limb. You hadn’t gone too far yet. You didn’t have to do this.

“Please,” he begged.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me why you were so jealous that I was dancing with another man,” you said.

“Because I wanted to be the one that was dancing with you. Because the moment you walked down those stairs you took my breath away. Because I’ve been trying o find the words all night to tell you how beautiful you are tonight and how beautiful you always are and how I’ve been falling for you since the moment we met.”

Okay, you weren’t expecting that.

“You’re the one I have my eye on,” you said, breathless from his confession, “you’re the only one I see.”

“Thank fuck for that,” he said, a smile spreading over his face.

“Are you going to kiss me now, or do I need to take matters into my own hands?”

He didn’t bother answer, leaning down to claim your lips with his. It was soft and sweet and all too fleeting. You had to fight the impulse to pull him back in, indulging in your desire to spend the rest of the night wrapped up in him. His hand tightened on your hip, eyes flicking up then back down to you. With how close you were standing, there was no room for Jesus even if he was two dimensional.

“Your friend is coming over here,” he said.

“Do you want to go somewhere else then?” you asked, “because I don’t care about this whole thing.”

“Will it disappoint you if I want to continue dancing with you?” he asked instead.

Your lips curled up into an incredulous smile. His hand slid from your head to the small of your back, pressing a kiss to the back of the hand he was holding. You felt yourself melt, realising you wouldn’t be able to say no to him. Not when he was looking at you with such hope and so much softness.

“You want to dance with me?” you asked.

“There’s something romantic about it. Dancing with the woman you love in a beautiful ballroom,” he said, a touch bashful and yet it only made your heart beat feaster.

“You’re a secret romantic.” The wonder in your voice only seemed to make him more embarrassed.

“May I cut in?”

Dylan, back again, clearly not reading the room correctly, or not caring.

“No,” Lars said,” you may not.”

He spun you away, taking you far from the rich asshole. You laughed, a sense of impossibility rising within you. The entire night was gilded with unreality, like you’d stepped into the pages of a novel or onto the silver screen. It was like fiction.

“Have I told you how handsome you look tonight?” you asked when the laughter subsided, not even bothering to wipe the lovesick look off your face.

“I don’t believe so,” he replied, giving you one of those cocky half smiles you’d grown used to whenever he managed to impress you.

“Let me fix that then,” you said, tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck, “you look devastatingly handsome tonight.”

His lips pressed against yours and you had no idea how he was keeping you dancing when all thoughts flew from your head. The way he smiled when he drew back was bright, like you’d made all his dreams come true. And maybe you had. But he’d made all yours come true too.

[ellieslittlewh0re]

Stripped - modern!ellie x stripper!reader

wk- 8k-ish (it’s worth it)

additional tags: loser!ellie, reader is slightly described (pale, red/light brown hair, literally picture Lana in tropico bc that’s what I used for reference, oral reader! receiving, fingering reader! receiving, gross ass m*en, mutual pinning, implied homophobia (nothing crazy), childhood friends to lovers??, drug! mention, alcohol! mention,college! ellie mentioned, fluff n smut <3

"Ugh- He's is such a fucking creep."

I mouth frustrations under my breath, taking a seat at the vanity in the back room of the club. I pull crinkled wads of money out of the strap of my thong, smoothing the bills as I counted.

"Who is?" A familiar voice asked me with genuine concern. Camilla, also known as Coco by the customers, was a veteran dancer, a motherly type that all the girls that worked here went to for advice.

"Grabby Gary."

She winced at the mention of his name and shook  her head.

"I don't know why they keep letting him in here. He's a fuckin' perv."

I nod in agreement, taking a deep breath before looking in the mirror. My eyes were red, and my body ached from the early hours of the morning. I applied for this job not because I wanted to, but because I figured it would be a good way to make money fast. My mother, being an alcoholic and her deadbeat boyfriend was a violent drunk.

"You got any plans this weekend, baby?"

I felt a boost of energy at her mention, perking my head up with a smile on my face.

"My best friend is coming tomorrow. She left for college a few months ago and I haven't seen her since. We talk everyday, but it's jus' not the same."

I lower my head, pain in my voice as I remember how fucking empty my life felt when she left me behind. I never told my friend this, not wanting to make her feel bad.. I was happy for her. She was smart and passionate, I mean, who was I to get in the way of her education?

"Does she know you dance?"

I suck air behind my teeth, scrunching up my face.

"...no."

I didn't want her to worry about me and I definitely didn't need her shit for it, but it still worried me.

"You work tomorrow, right? Bring her by, and we can feed her free drinks. It will be fine, now get your ass home and get some sleep. You did good today." Coco reassured me, patting the back of my shoulder before going back out to the stage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stir in my bed, the afternoon sun flooding my room, making it unbelievably warm due to the Texas summer heat. I fumble with the sheets, kicking them off my sticky skin. I skim my hand along the bed searching for my phone, peeking at the screen through tired eyes.

12:32 p.m.

I mentally groan before squinting at the missed text's notifications, rubbing my eyes to focus my blurry vision.

Ellie<3: Hey- I'm leaving now I'll be there around 1 Delivered 9:56 a.m.

"Shit."

I throw my body forward, scrambling to the bathroom and turning on the shower.

I search my drawers, pulling out whatever is clean. I trip over my feet as I tug on a pair of denim shorts when the vibration of my phone alerted me.

Ellie<3: I'm pulling in now

My heart started to race, excited, but also incredibly nervous. I quickly finish dressing my self, half-running half-speed walking to the front door.

"Okay-" I take a shaky breath, composing myself before turning the door handle.

"Took you long enough." Ellie said sarcastically, flashing me a smile. I could have cried right then, not realizing how much I've missed seeing her face that I lunged at her, wrapping my arms around her in an embrace.

"Damn- you missed me that much?" Ellie laughed, patting my back hesitantly.

I rest my head in the crook of her neck, breathing in her woodsy scent. I felt immediate comfort wash over me, a sense of safety and nostalgia.

I quickly pull back, realizing I definitely held the hug longer than we both anticipated.

I clear my throat, adverting her eyes.

"Uh- how was the drive?"

I encourage her inside and shut the door behind her.

"S' Fine. Nothing note-worthy-" she pauses in the hallway, glancing down at the battered couch.

"He's still here?"

She points to the man sleeping on the couch, stained white tank that was pushed up to his chest, exposing a bloated stomach.

I ignore the obvious disapproval in her voice, grabbing her wrist as I pulled her through the house to my room.

"How's your classes? Do you like them?" I ask her as I shut the door, making sure to lock it.

Dale, my mom's boyfriend was a real prick. Ellie and him have had their fair share of issues. One ending with Ellie punching him in the jaw after he called her a slur.

"Uh- yeah, yeah. They're good. Except for this one class- the teacher is a dick, but other than that, it's good."

She slid her backpack off her shoulder, tossing it to the floor before taking a seat on my bed.

I sit next to her, now feeling suddenly a lot more anxious in the quietness of my room.

"How are things here?" She lowers her head to me, concern raising in her voice.

"Oh- uh.. you know." I fake a laugh, looking down to my hands.

Ellie remained silent for a second, probably catching on that things here where in fact, not great.

"What's up with those?" She grabbed my hand, turning it over and observing the obnoxious set of acrylic nails.

I let out a more genuine laugh, her bewilderment written all over her face as she traced the edges of the nails.

"It's fr' my job. It's kinda a big thing there."

Her eyes break from my hands and look to my face.

"Waitressing requires talons?" Her eyebrows go up, child-like confusion on her features like if you tell a kid anything, they'd believe you.

"No! Oh my god- I quit the restaurant after you left."

She paused and leaned back, waiting for an explanation. I bit my lip before taking a deep breath, pausing before opening my mouth.

"I work at a club.. like a night club kinda place."

I held my breath as I examined her face, her eyes darting between mine.

"Doing what?"

Ellie's eyes narrowed, her mouth tightening into a straight line.

"It's not a big deal. I actually have a shift tonight and was hoping you'd come. You can drink for free."

My voice strained, desperate to get her on board for the sake of me needing her to understand my position.

Ellie nostrils flared through rapid breaths, stone facing me before looking away.

"So you're a stripper?" Ellie sighed deeply as she rubbed between her eyebrows.

"... yeah." 

Ellie leans forward, elbows resting on her knees, looking around the room before taking a deep breath.

"A stripper? You're barely 19!"

Her voice grows louder out of anger, clearly not approving of my choices.

"I know, I know... but I need to move out. I can't stand living here, Ellie! After you left shit just got more fucked." 

I flail my hands before tucking them back into my lap. I needed her to understand. I needed her to realize how desperate I was and that I didn't take this job just for the experience.

Ellie remind silent for a minute, taking in my explanation.

"I'm sorry- it's just.. I hate the idea of you dancing around naked."

"It's not like that... I mean I'm not completely naked."

I laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood. Ellie cracked a smile, but it didn't seem sincere.

"Will you come tonight? It would help knowing you were there." I ask her, dipping my head down.

Ellie pauses before answering, mentally analyzing how it would play out.

"Yeah I'll go.. but only to beat guys up if they look at you for too long." She said smugly, nudging her shoulder into mine.

"That's literally what I got hired for."

I roll my eyes, trying to down play the heat rising in my cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I see you still drive that sad excuse for a car."

My eyes remained glued to the screen, taunting Ellie as we played an out-dated version of call of duty zombies on my PlayStation, killing time before I have to get ready.

"It's not sad! It's a Mustang." Her voice pitched, defending her prized possession.

"Yeah... a 2005 Mustang that almost killed you and drained your bank account." I roll my eyes, spamming buttons on the controller.

Amongst our bickering, we lose our concentration causing a horde of zombies to down us both.

The colors on the tv screen loses saturation and text on the screen read: game over you survived 12 rounds

"Aw man. This is totally your fault."

I open my mouth to argue Ellies claim when the door handle rattles, and aggressive banging followed.

"Why the hell is your door lock?! Who's in there with you?" A loud male voice creeped through the  hinges.

I stood up and walk towards the door, turning back to give Ellie a look of "please be cool" before slowly opening the door.

"The hell is all that noise fr?" Dale grumbled, looking rougher than usual. His eyes look behind me into my room, eyes going wide as he saw Ellie, who gave him a wave and a shit eating smile which definitely did not help the situation.

"What the fuck is she doin' here?"

I take a deep breath, putting myself in front of him to crate a barrier in case shit goes south.

"She's jus' staying for the weekend, okay? That's it."

His eyes bulged out of his head, veins becoming more prominent against his now red face.

"Bull fuckin' shit she is! This is MY house."

Dale yells, pouting a finger in no particular direction.

"The only thing you own is a spot on the sex offender registry." Ellie rebuttals. I'd admit it's a good burn, but holy fuck, this was the opposite of being chill.

"The fuck did she jus' say t' me?!"

Dale pushes himself past the door, shoving me out of the way as he v-lined for Ellie.

I grab Dale by the arm, using my body weight to hold him from getting closer to Ellie, who didn't seem affected, if anything, she looked amused.

"Dale- Dale please calm down... she didn't mean it, okay? Just please stop." I spoke calmly to him like I've done so many times in the past when he got this way.

Dale silenced his yelling, looking to me as he breathed heavily, blood shot eyes and a slight twitch in his eyebrow.

I put on a brave face, having done this repeatedly over the last 3 years that he and my mom have been dating.

"She will be gone tomorrow, okay? I'm sorry I should've told you... I can talk to Chris at the club and see what he has, okay?" I spoke sweetly to him even though it made me feel physically sick.

He didn't respond, eyes darting between me and Ellie, then back to be before he stomped out of the room.

"The hell did you say that for?" I huffed, rubbing my eye, and walked over to Ellie, plopping down next to her on the bed.

"Because I hate him." Ellie responded sternly, looking at me like I was dumb for asking such a question.

"No shit, but the least you can do is be in your best behavior, for my sake. I'm the one who has to live with him."

My words came out rushed, annoyed that she wasn't understanding how uncomfortable living in this house truly was.

The way my mom was black out drunk for days on end, how Dale would sneak around outside my room in an attempt to catch me undressing, not to mention the smashing bottles on the wall or the never ending psychological abuse Dale carried out.

"You're right. M' sorry. That was a dick move. I promise I'll be good."

Ellie held her hands up, one over her chest and the other in the air, signaling a sarcastic attempt to keep her promise.

I roll my eyes and bit my inner cheek to hide a smile. I missed her goofy self, the smug way she would tease to cheer me up.

"Okay, fine...you're forgiven'."

I flash a smile, looking at my phone to cheek the time.

"Shit- I gotta start gettin' ready. Do you have to get ready?" I stand, waking to my closest.

"Uh- I don't know, do I?" Ellie asked, sounding concerned that she had no idea how to dress for a strip club.

I look back at her, observing her outfit more closely. A checkered blue and white flannel with a simple white t-shirt underneath, dark washed denim jeans that hung tight to her legs paired with her signature high top converse that she couldn't live without. She looked good.. like really good. No matter what she wore, I always found myself admiring her, even when we were young. She was effortlessly cool to the point it was annoying to me.

"I-I think you're good. I mean, you're a customer. You can wear whatever, I guess."

I turn back around, shuffling through the designated spot in my closet that I lovingly refer to as "skin rash central". Sequins and feathers and other skimpy clothes that look like discarded scrapes from a Victoria secret factory.

"Ugh- don't call me that."

Ellie winces at the choice of words. Customer. She didn't want to be a customer at a strip club where her childhood best friend worked. It felt wrong like she was crossing an invisible line. Only ever dreaming about the possibility if that line were to break, disappear completely, and the term friends would be replaced with something else.

"Don't worry, you don't have to throw money at me... although I wouldn't be opposed to it-"

Ellie shifts uncomfortable in her seat, clearing her throat to hide the fact her cheeks began to burn hot from my comment.

"Im gonna' get ready... uh- make yourself comfortable." I said, motioning my arms in a way that was meant to be funny, but I realized how stupid I must have looked.

Ellie laughs anyway, nodding and shooing me out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay... lookin' good."

I turn around, observing myself in the spectacle mirror. A red lingerie set that I've worn a few times before, bows and ribbon that dangled across bare skin. Makeup is simple. Classic. Flawless skin with a wing liner, and big eyelashes that complimented the shape of my eyes. A few carefully placed fake beauty marks along my jaw and below my eye. I decided to keep my hair down, letting the length fall to the lower part of my back, loose, big curls that shaped my face and shoulders.

I take a few deep breaths, leaning my hands against the sink.

"You got this. It's just like very other night." I tell myself quietly in the mirror.

I throw on a jacket and sweatpants, not wanting to reveal myself to Ellie quite yet in case she loses her shit.

"Hey- sorry. I know I took forever. You ready?" I return to the room, glancing to my phone to check the time.

9:47 pm

When she didn't respond right away, I looked up to see why she wasn't responding. To my surprise she was already looking at me, more specifically my face.

"Ellie?" I snap my fingers at her, breaking her trance.

Ellie flinches, blinking her eyes a few times.

"Huh? Oh- yeah. I'm ready." Ellie clears her throat, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans.

Her behavior confused me, she was nervous when I came back into the room. I figured it was because she was not use to seeing me all glammed up, considering she knew me when I was a little girl, playing in the mud, catching bugs and reptiles in the creek behind the house. 

"Can we take your car? Dale is gon' kill me if I take his truck again." I asked her, focusing on putting an extra pair of shoes in my duffel bag.

"Yeah, that's cool... uh where is the club located?"

I rushed to my vanity, spraying ungodly amounts of sweet smelling perfume along my body and clothes. Panic was starting to kick in. Anxious that this was defiantly not like every other shift. My best friend was going to be there, to watch me dance half-naked for other people's pleasure.

"Further into the city. Don't worry I'll tell you directions. Traffic might be kinda bad though so we need to leave." I finish putting on deodorant, slugging my bad over my shoulder, dragging Ellie along by her hand out of the house and down the driveway to her car.

"Do you want to play music?" Ellie asked, holding the aux cord.

I happily obliged, shuffling through playlists I made specifically for her. I find one that felt just right, clicking it and waiting for her recognize the beat.

"Oh shit! So it's that kinda night, huh?"

Ellie cranked the volume up, tapping the steering wheel with her hand and started to sing along.

I watch her with a warmness building in my heart. Seeing how happy she was listening to a song we have both heard hundreds of times.

It felt like we were teenagers again, driving around in this same car, having no destination in mind as we blasted borderline obnoxious tunes. Ellie was always older, not just physically but mentally.

I realized my feelings for her when I was 15, and she was 17 going on 18. I could never tell her it would just put her in an awkward situation and possibly ruin our friendship, and I definitely didn't want that.

"Turn left at this light and the club will be on the right side. You can't miss it, it has a bright ass pink neon sign out front."

I bit my lip, feeling insecure about the location of this place, not realizing before how fucking sketchy this part of town was.

Ellie turns the car into a parking spot, killing the engine and took a deep breath.

"You forgot to mention it was in east side."

"...sorry. It's not that bad, I promise."

I look down to my phone, checking the time.

"Oh good! We're kinda early. You can get a drink before I go on." I say a little too excitedly, my thought process being she can get shit faced while I worked, in case I make an ass of myself.

I exit the car, tossing my bag over my shoulder and start heading towards the doors. I stopped, realizing Ellie wasn't right behind me, I turn around.

"What's wrong?" I ask her with a puzzled look.

Ellie's face lit up a pink hue from the sign, her eyes fixated on the building.

"Wha- nothing... nothing. I'm comin'." Ellie words faltered, her head hanging low as she made her way to where I was.

I push open the blurred glass door and examine the crowd. It was fairly busy, considering it wasn't even midnight yet, which is when people started to flood in.

"Hey doll- you're early." Coco greeted me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I greeted her with a smile, genuinely happy to see her face.

"Yeah, I thought traffic would be bad-" a awkward silence formed between the three of us, Ellie looking at me and then down to the floor.

Coco sensed Ellie's lack of experience in a strip club, looking at her and holding a well manicured hand out.

"You must be the best friend. I'm Camilla. It's good to finally meet you. She talks about you all the time."

Ellie shook her hand, focusing heavy on her face to avoid looking at what little clothing she was wearing.

"Oh does she?" She let out a nervous laugh, breaking the hand shake and wedging herself behind me. I was humored by how Ellie was acting. Nervous and in full gay panic, being surrounded by a bunch of girls that were half-clothed.

"I'll leave you to it. Have a good night-" Coco kisses my cheek and then points to Ellie, who straightened her stance immediately like she was meeting the president.

"And you, take care of her tonight. She's good at what she does, but she's a magnet for trouble." Coco turns and disappears into the club, leaving the two of us standing awkwardly by the entrance.

I shake my head, covering my face with my hands out of embarrassment.

"Magnet for trouble?" Ellie repeats her words, a smug tone hinted in her voice as she teased me.

"Don't- just... don't. Now, c'mon let's go get a drink." I grab her wrist, pulling her though the club towards the bar.

"2 shots of tequila please."

I leaned over the bar, kicking my feet like a kid in a candy shop.

Fez, the bartender gave me a stern look, rolling his eyes.

"You can't drink yet, doll. We've been over this." He shook his finger at me, trying to sound serious, but he was a gentle giant, sweet and very easily manipulated.

"C'monnnn please. It's a special occasion."

I blink wide eyed at him, pouting my bottom lip.

Fez shook his head, taking a deep breath and pretended to think hard about it.

"Fine... but I swear this is the last time. No more." He turned, slapping two shot glasses down on the bar and filled them to the brim, letting some spill over onto the counter.

I scootch the glasses closer, holding one up for Ellie, which she takes hesitantly. Her one eyebrow raise, and a smirk on her face as she brings the shot to her lips, throwing her head back as she downs the liquor. I copy her motions, swallowing the liquid, feeling it burn my throat as it made it way down.

"Awh- ohmygod... that's foul." I choke out, scrunching my face and pushing the shit glass away.

Ellie was unfazed by the taste, not flinching  in the slightest.

"You're such a baby." She giggles, shaking me by my shoulder.

"Sorry I'm not a frat boy like you." I snark back, feeling pretty pleased with my remark.

Ellie rolls her eyes playfully to make me feel like I won that conversation.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, letting the screen light up.

"Shit- uh I need to get ready for my set. You can stay here and keep drinking- or if you get hungry, I can ask the guys in the back to make you something?" I ramble, covering all my bases to make Ellie as comfortable as possible.

"I'm fine! Just go do your thing." Ellie let's out a laugh, shooing me away. I give her one last worried look before turning away and walking through the club, maneuvering around people and squeezing between chairs and tables.

I get rid of my jacket and sweatpants, switching out my vans for platform heels. Red to match my outfit, straps that accentuate the top of my foot and up my ankle. I button the straps, flexing my foot to make sure it wasn't pinching the thin skin.

I sat at the vanity, the bright bulbs around the mirror gave me a headache. My nerves were spiraling.

I planned my dances tonight with Ellie in mind as a way to welcome her, to still embarrass her even if the two of us were the only ones who knew. "White mustang" by Lana del Rey was my first song, a little inside joke for both of us, that leaked into "summer bummer" purely because that song made me want to dance, not think too hard. Just dance.

"Fuck. Okay, you got this. Jus' go out there and dance. You've done it dozens of times. No biggie."  I voice words of encouragement to myself, wiping  smudged lipstick from the corner of my mouth.

I coax myself with deep breaths, going through the motions of trying to calm the uneasy feeling in my stomach.

"Doll, you're on."

I look at my co-worker, meeting her eyes through the reflection of the mirror. One last deep breath and I walk through the door, leaving the safety of the break/ hair and makeup room.

I walked slowly, carefully as possible to the stairs of the stage, scared I'd break an ankle in my uneasy footsteps. I kept my head low, scanning the crowd to look for Ellie. Lights strobing shades of pink and red, a haze building from the cigars that were being smoked.

My heels clunked the wood stage floor as I take position on the pole, holding it with one hand as I casually swung around it, waiting for my song to start. Yelling and whistling from the handful of men that gathered closest to the stage. I smile at them, waving playfully while still peeking looks in hopes I'd find my friend.

The first cords of the song started to play. I switch to my professional personality, becoming more serious and seductive. I parade myself around the pole, letting my legs fall wide as I leaned against. Dollar bills started to float onto the stage, hooting and hollering as I caressed my body. I engage with the men, bending over in front of them to show them something worth their time.

From the outside, I looked like I was doing my job and doing it well, but internally I was panicking. I couldn't find the one person I wanted to see, but at the same time, if she was watching and I couldn't see her, it was a new nightmare. Curious to know what her face looked like as she saw her once, innocent, childhood best friend.

Ellie waited as patiently as she could, finding a dark corner of the club where less people were. She sipped on a whiskey she ordered, leaned up against a wall.

A sudden burst of cheers and hollering caused Ellie to jerk her head in the direction where it was coming from. A women was walking into the stage, playfully hanging off the pole. The lights made it hard to make out at first, but upon seeing the light brown, almost copper tinted hair, Ellie's eyes widened, almost choking on her drink.

This was a side to her best friend she has never seen before, skin that Ellie's eyes have never been graced by before, at least not to this extent.

Sure, when they were younger they'd change in front of one another, but Ellie always turned away, scared that her friend would notice the changing hues of her cheeks.

Arms stretched outward towards her like a painting depicting a religious experience, and to be honest it felt like one to Ellie. These men begged for the touch of her hand, the words on her lips, but Ellie was the only one who knows what it was like.

The way she smiles so brightly, laughs so fully like she wanted the whole world to hear. How clumsy she truly was even though she danced so gracefully on the stage.

I prance in my heels all over the stage, trying not to make it obvious was trying to avoid the shining lights in my face to look for Ellie. I squint towards the back of the bar. Her familiar frame came into focus, leaning against a wall like she worked here as a bodyguard.

I wave at her, excited to finally have found her. Ellie does a double take before pointing to herself . I nod, not caring that this wasn't part of the routine as I usher her closer to the stage.

Ellie carefully comes closer, stopping a couple of feet behind the handful of men that surrounded the stage. I felt a burst of energy seeing her, knowing that she was still here.

I lower myself to my hands and knees, crawling forward to the men that clasped bills in their fingers. I lay in front of them, arching my back against the scuffed floor, letting money drape over my face.

Ellie held her breath as she watched, never looking away, hell not even blinking, scared she'd miss even a second of the show.

I get back into my knees, hovering above the paying customers as they place the bills in the straps of my thong and bra, letting it snap back only to be repeated. I diverted my attention away from my patrons to meet Ellie, her eyes heavily glued to me. I raise a finger, pointing it at her and curling it, signaling that I wanted her to come closer.

To my surprise she takes a few more steps forward, shimming between the men who gave her dirty glares in return, but she didn't care. Out of everyone here tonight, Ellie was the one who had all of your attention.

Ellie positions herself front and center of the stage. I crawl closer, leaving only a few inches between our faces.

🎶 the day I saw your white mustang-🎶

Ellie's realization of the song made her crack a smile. Even under the colored lights, I could tell she was blushing, cheeks red making her freckles more prominent. I felt my own cheeks cramp, a wide grin on my lips that I definitely couldn't hide.

I watch Ellie's hand disappear into her back pocket, pulling out crisp bills, and slowly, her hand moves to my chest, using her other hand to open the top of my bra as she inserts it gently, smoothing her finger over my cleavage before she retracts her touch.

"You suck-" I mouth to her, rolling my eyes playfully. My body jittery and my heart thumped loudly against my chest. Without much thought, I leaned down from the stage, planting a kiss to her cheek, which left a very prominent lipstick stain to her pale complexion.

My ears perk up to the changing of the song, feeling much more upbeat after our interaction, I jump up and blow Ellie a kiss, which she pretends to grab before she took a few steps back.

I carry on through my set, shaking my ass more energetically to match the vibe of the music. Dollar bills of various worths littered the stage.

Ellie watched from further away, her eyes loom in my direction as she babied her drink, not wanting to risk forgetting this night.

Ellie didn't try to hide how she bit down on her lip, eyes studying the movements of my hips or how I extended my neck to the side, leaving the exposed skin on display for her imagining how she wanted to mark it.

"So... whaddya think?" I ask out of breath from rushing off of the stage as soon as the song ended.

Ellie opens her mouth and closes it again as her face contorted, trying to figure out what to say that was both respectful, and didn't come off pervy.

"I see why that lady said you attract trouble."

I give her a confused look, tilting my head to the side.

"Huh?"

Ellie purses her lips before making a tsk tsk sound with her mouth.

"You were- unreal... it kinda scares me how incredible you were up there." Ellie looks away, rubbing her thumb over the back of her hand that held her drink.

I feel my face heat up, a giddy sensation building inside me.

"I mean I wouldn't go that far, but thank you Els. It means a lot comin' from you." I said sweetly, interlocking my fingers behind me as I rocked back in forth on my toes. I felt like I was in school all over again... like when you have a crush on someone that's way out of your league, but they talk to you anyways.

"Hey doll, Gerald wants a private dance." Camellia interrupts us, sounding slightly apologetic.

"Ugh- fine." I groan, rolling my eyes.

"I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere!" I yell back to ellie as I walked towards the champagne room.

Ellie didn't love the idea of you giving someone a lap dance. She wanted to hold you back, prevent you from walking away, but she didn't because after all, this was your job.... The idea of some old man grabbing you and fantasizing about how he would touch you made Ellie sick.

Ellie waited for your return as patiently as she could. Uneasiness was sinking in, causing her to sip from her glass at a faster pace. She felt a new sensation kicking in as she waited. Maybe it was a sense that she needed to protect you, keep you safe, but no, that wasn't it. It was jealousy. A possessive urge to keep you at arms length. It was a feeling that Ellie desperately tried detaching herself from for a number of years.

"Sorry! That took longer than it should've." I say to Ellie, stumbling back to her slightly out of breath.

"It's fine. When does your shift end?" Ellie's tone shifted. She sounded annoyed, frustrated even.

"Uh... soon." I answer weakly, uncertain why Ellie was acting different towards me.

Ellie didn't seem thrilled with my answer, looking down at her now empty glass and avoiding my face.

"If you want, I can see if I can leave early? It's slowin' down now. I don't think it should be a problem."

Ellie lifted her head, looking at me with wide eyes. Her face lit up at my suggestion, but quickly dwindled.

"You don't have to-"

"Hush. I want to. Plus, I want to spend as much time with as possible... jus' the two of us." I cut her off mid sentence. It was the truth. I didn't want to waste our only time together, not knowing when I'd see her again.

Ellie smiled, her eyes burn into mine causing me to want to lean into her, but she clears her throat when she realized how our gaze lingered.

"Let me go ask." I tell Ellie, resting a hand on her bicep before I turn to leave her again.

"Please! I'm literally beggin' you. Just this once- I won't ask again." I pleaded, holding my hands to my chest, interlocking my fingers in a prayer.

Warren. Aka boss man, looked me up and down, and took a deep breath before rubbing the meaty part between his eyebrows.

"Look- doll. You haven't been working here long enough to be making such requests."

"-and it won't happen again. I swear." I bat my eyelashes a few times in hopes he'd show me some mercy.

There was a few seconds of silence, Warren looked at me and then down to the papers strewn about his desk.

"Fine, but I expect good things from you from here on out. No more slacking."

"Thank you! I promise I will." I rushed over, planting a kiss on his cheek before running out of them room.

I strut over to Ellie, not giving her any time to react as I take her hand in mine and march us out of the building towards her car.

"I guess that's a yes?" Ellie asked, a smug tone hinted on her lips.

"Let's get the fuck out of here." I smile at her as I open the car door.

Ellie does the same, picking a song before she reverses out of the parking spot.

The neon glow of the club's sign was fading behind us as we drove away, windows rolled down to let the cooler breeze of the night swirl around us. This felt like everything I could ever need, ever want. I was happy with just this. The only person who ever looked out for me, who ever cared about me is by my side. I felt safe and loved by her, not really caring if she loved me the same way I loved her.

"I'm sorry I left you." Ellie breaks the silence, turning down the volume of the music so she wouldn't have to yell.

"What? No, don't be sorry. You grew up and so did I. There's nothin' to be sorry about." My voice grew weak as I spoke. It hurt to be reminded that she wasn't a permanent person in my life anymore.

Ellie didn't know what to say to that. She felt the hurt in your voice as you spoke and of how you shifted in your seat. Ellie glanced at you from time to time in her peripheral, taking note how you were still in your 'work' clothes. She quickly reframed herself from starring too hard from how little was being covered.

You turned away from Ellie in the car as you looked out the window, feeling a sense of dread that the night was coming to a close and Ellie would have to leave in the morning.

I felt the engine turn off, an ear piercing silence followed as we both made no effort to get out of the car.

"You ready?" Ellie asked, her voice quiet and gentle.

I nodded, opening the car door and walking up the driveway with Ellie close behind.

Reaching the door, I took out my keys, holding them up to the lock as I took a deep breath, praying that the house was quiet and everyone was asleep or simply just gone.

I creep open the door, listening for any movement and when it felt safe I motioned the coast was clear to Ellie. I shut the door behind us, taking off my heels to prevent the clunking sound on the tile floor.

"Thank-fucking-god." I sigh, falling back into bed, looking up at the plastered ceiling of my room.

"I can't wait to leave and never see this stupid ceiling again."

Ellie lowers herself onto the mattress beside me and looks up to where my eyes fixated before looking down at me.

"Me too." Ellie said absentmindedly, eyes lingering over the skin on your lower stomach and chest.

"Can you bring me with you? I can sleep in your closet or something... people have pets that they hide in there dorms, right?"

I laugh to make it sound like a joke, but it wasn't.

"Trust me. I wish I could." Ellie bit her lip. She couldn't hide how seeing you so close like this and so exposed made her feel. How your breasts pooled over your bra, how the skin between your legs looked so soft and malleable.

I sat up and looked to Ellie when I noticed how her demeanor had changed. Her eyes, usually a bright green where now much darker, more intimidating. My eyes drift to her lips, slightly swollen and glistened from her spit.

Fuck.

I divert my eyes from her face, feeling slightly uncomfortable by how much my body was reacting to her. My thighs squeezed together, my heart pounding and I couldn't stop thinking how much much I wanted to kiss her.

That's when I look at her arms.

Her fucking arms.

The sleeves of the flannel she wore were rolled up to below her elbows, exposing the tattoo on her forearm. The veins in her hand were prominent, trailing upward to her long fingers.

"Fuck-" My inner dialogue slipped, coming out as a whisper.

"I mean-" I try to cover my ass, praying my horny fucking brain to come up with anything, but it was too late.

Ellie leaned forward, putting her arms on either side of me, forcing me to lay back on the bed.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" She asked, tilting her head to the side as a smirk grew on her lips. Her voice sounded different. Low and sensual, unlike I've ever heard from her before.

My breath hitched just from her voice alone, the heat building in my core as she hovered over me.

"Wha- what do you mean?" I stutter, confused and at the same time feeling the effects of the atmosphere change in the room.

Ellie leaned closer, dipping her head so she was inches from my face.

"Still wearing this." Ellie raised her hand, bring her fingers to the strap of my bra and tugging on it.

"Maybe I am." I said barely above a whisper, grabbing her wrist and guided her hand to my stomach before moving it upwards to my chest, encouraging her to touch me.

Ellie's face changed from lust to genuine confusion, eyebrows furrowed and she studied my face.

"This isn't funny."

I shake my head weakly, squeezing her hand that was cupped around my breast.

"I'm not joking, Els. I want you to. Always have."

I bring her hand up and kiss the back of it, making deep eye contact as I leave wet, and sloppy kisses to her skin.

Ellie held her breath as she watched you underneath her, so beautiful and so eager for her touch. Ellie couldn't hold back anymore, all these years of repressing her feelings for you were coming to the surface.

I look up at Ellie, making slow circular motions with my hips as I imagined how Ellie's fingers would feel inside and that was her breaking point. Ellie pulled her hand away, forcing mine above my head as she leaned down and closed the empty space between us.

I moan into her mouth, feeling her lips on mine finally after all these years of only ever dreaming about this moment.

Ellie's lips move sloppily against mine, her tongue grazing over my teeth and exploring the spongy walls inside my mouth.

Ellie breaks away and looks at me, panting slightly from the passionate kiss.

"Are you sure?"

Her eyes were wide, and her brows turned upward. A puppy dog-like expression on Ellie's face caused me to smile, seeing how hard she was holding back just to make sure I was okay.

I simply nodded, reaching up and holding her face to bring her back down to reconnect our lips.

Her hands roamed by body, squeezing my breasts tenderly, but firmly. I did the same to the little amount of skin I could. Lacing my fingers around her forearm, sinking my nails into the flesh.

"Can you take this off? I wanna touch you." I pull away from her lips out of breath, tugging at the hem of her shirt.

Ellie wasted no time, sitting up on her knees and pulling the flannel off her arms, tossing it to the floor.

I gawk at the sight of her as she pulls her shirt over her head, discarding it to the side in one swift motion.

Ellie's stomach was flat and toned, defined ridges that outline her subtle abs that led downwards into a 'v' above the waistband of her jeans.

I bit my lip as I watched, taking in the sight of her.

I bring my hand up and grip the loop in her jeans, pulling her down to taste her again.

I let my fingers slip into her waistband, touching the uncharted territory. Ellie pulls away before I could feel her further, a hungry look in her eyes as her impatience grew.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was low and raspy like pop rocks, igniting your mouth with its rigid edges and leaving a sweet coating on your tongue.

"I wanna feel you." I whine, reaching up to palm her breasts over her sports bra. Ellie let out a muffled whine from the contact, shutting her eyes as she felt me drag a nail over her harden peak.

"You're drivin' me crazy. You know that?-" Ellie says, letting out a low chuckle before weighing out her options.

"Only if I can feel you." Ellie says, negotiating with me as her hand hovered down my stomach, giving me goosebumps as her fingers trickled down the skin.

I nod enthusiastically, gripping the sheets beside my head tighter as I felt her hand palm my pussy, rolling the heel of her hand against my clit.

"Fuu- you're this wet already? I bet I can slip right in.." Her hand continued to grind against the thin fabric.

My back arches under her, swirling my hips against her hand.

"Mm- El... please." I moan, looking up at her with a pained expression. 

"Please, what? Use your words, baby." Ellie said smugly, toying with me as she removed her hand, causing me to cry out from the lack of friction.

"T-touch me. I wan' you in-inside." I stutter over my words, my body wringing beneath her.

"Atta girl."

Ellie lowered herself once again, kissing me deeply, sucking my bottom lip before biting it between her teeth.

I feel Ellie's hand roam my body, tugging and gripping at various parts before she sipped her hand underneath my underwear. Her fingers skimmed along my folds, my slick coating her fingers before she circled around my clit.

My nails dig into the back of her shoulders, breaking the skin but not enough to make her bleed as she picked up the pace on my clit.

My lower stomach clenched and tensed, the heat pilling between my legs and I craved more.

"Ellie- empty.. I need you to fill-"

I was cut off by Ellie's fingers plunging into me over and over again as her fingers curled against my cervix with each thrust. Ellie paused, but only partially as she yanked down my underwear before fucking into me once more.

"FUuu mm-" I cry out, but it was muffled by Ellie's free hand covering my mouth, her fingers digging into my cheeks.

"Shh baby... you have to be quiet." Ellie growled into my ear before kissing the corner of my eye. Tears began to spill down my face from the force of her hand slamming against my cunt. 

I nod as she removed her hand from my mouth, letting it fall to my throat as she gently squeezed it.

I bit the back of my hand, sinking my teeth into the skin as I held back my moans.

"Good girl... such a good girl-" Ellie cooed, placing the occasional sweet and delicate kisses on my face, which didn't line up with what she was doing to my aching core.

Wet sloshes filled the room along with my muted whines from behind Ellie's lips.

I felt a bubbling sensation rising inside me, my mind becoming fuzzy and blank. I felt like I had no control over my body, my limbs becoming stiff  as my eyes roll to the back of my head.

"Els- I'm gonna-" I barely mutter, breaking away from her kiss as my head falls back, pressing deep into the mattress beneath me.

"Cum fr' me, baby girl." Ellie encouraged, her fingers slipping deeper into my cunt with each blow.

I squeeze her bicep, sinking my nails into the freckled skin. Occasional moans that I try hold back escape my lips, no thanks to Ellie. My jaw hung open as I lift my head to watch her fingers disappear then reappear inside me. I couldn't take it anymore, my head rolls back, my eyes shoot to the back of my brain as my stomach tenses, my hips rising with her fingers that continue to fuck into me as she rode out my climax.

I lay on the bed as my cunt continued to throb, taking deep and uneven breaths to try to calm the tingling sensation I felt all throughout my body.

The springs of the mattress creak as Ellie lays down next to me.

"You okay?" Ellie asked, sounding scared like a little kid that got caught stealing candy.

I roll my head over to look at her, her eyes wide and bright that how I always remembered them.

"Yes. I'm more than okay."

I turn my body to face hers, brining my fingers up to tuck a stand of hair behind her ear.

We lay there in silence for what feels like an eternity and I would I've been okay with that. Our hands danced over the skin of our faces, memorizing every curve and line.

"I don't want you to go." I said weakly, almost crying just thinking about her departure.

Ellie cupped my hand that rested on her cheek with her own, rubbing small circles with her thumb to the back of it.

"I know-"

I felt my eyes begin to well and I quickly try to blink them away, but it just made it worse. Tears fall down my cheek and my nose as I softly sobbed.

"Hey- shh.. shhh. It's okay." Ellie soothed me, pulling me into her. I bury my face into her chest as she held me. Her hand soothed over my head, patting it softly as she raked through my hair with her fingers.

I sniffle, pulling away to look at her again.

"I'll be okay. It's just- hard without you here."

Ellie's heart was breaking as she watched you crumble beside her. Your usual carefree and happy self was just a mask that you wore, a mask to make everything seem good and normal when that was the opposite of your life.

Ellie didn't want to leave you just as much as you didn't want her to leave. She couldn't stand the thought of not being able to take care of you, see you everyday and to have you within reach at all times.

Ellie took a shaky breath, unsure if what she was about to say was out of bounds.

"I've been looking at apartments off campus-"

My eyes lit up at Ellie words, confused at first, but equally as excited to know where this was going.

"And if... you want to come live with me in Houston-"

I pounce on top of Ellie, cutting her off before she could finish her sentence.

"Yes! Of fuckin' course I want to live with you!"

My voice became loud and high pitched from my excitement, planting kisses over her forehead and cheeks before I bring my lips to hers, kissing her harder and longer than I intended.

"Okay, okay.. easy there." Ellie laughed, pushing me away to catch her breath.

"I promise I'll get a job and I'll cook and clean-"

Ellie brought her finger to my lips, silencing my rambles.

"Don't worry about that shit, okay? I'm gonna take care of you." Her hand cupped my face, soothing her thumb over my temple.

I fall into her chest, holding her tight, and she did the same. Tears fell from my eyes, not out of sadness from her leaving, but from the happiness that every bad thing that I've ever gone through was going to be that of the past, and now I have something good to look forward to.

"Shit!" I throw my head up, leaving her chest.

Ellie tilted her head, eyebrows raised in confusion from my sudden movements.

"I didn't get to touch you."

Ellie laughed from the genuine disappointment in my voice, pulling me back down to kiss me.

"Don't worry. There will be plenty of time for that."

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 5

Hey guys, back with this one! Again, I have a backlog to share with all so this should come out more regularly.

Just a reminder there isn't a set schedule anymore, just vibes. But if there is a story you want to see more often, let me know.

In this we have Steve's good luck charm, Gethin coming to Steve for help with the journalism schism, and Nancy and Steve finally having the talk they should have had from the beginning (she's not there 100% yet but it's better).

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4

****

They went to nationals and lost. When Steve got back he joked that Eddie was his good luck charm.

“Get off, Stevie,” Eddie scoffed during lunch. “I am not.”

Gareth chuckled. “I don’t know, man. Steve’s luck has shot up since you guys became friends. He hasn’t been hit once!”

Steve glared at him. “Thanks, Gary.”

Gareth stuttered. “What the fuck is Gary?”

Everyone laughed.

“Don’t ever call me that again,” Gareth growled. “My name is Gareth.”

Steve tilted his head to the side. “But isn’t that where Gary comes from? A shortening of Gareth?”

“I don’t give a fuck, man,” he hissed. “If Gethin hears it, he’ll never let it go.”

Steve’s mouth formed an ‘O’ in understanding. It was like Dusty Buns. “That’s fair.”

“What’s fair?” Gethin asked from behind Eddie.

Jeff opened his mouth to answer but Gareth kicked him under the table.

“That my taking hits to the face have gone down since I started hanging out with Eddie,” Steve said with a smile.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Stevie here seems to think that I’m his good luck charm.”

Gethin rubbed his chin. “I think Steve’s got something going with that.”

Eddie threw his arms in the air. “Not you too!”

Gethin started ticking off reasons on his fingers. “Billy has left him alone, he got a pretty major part in the school play, made it to nationals for swimming...need I go on?”

Eddie’s jaw dropped and he looked over at Steve in shock. “Holy shit. Maybe I am your good luck charm.”

Steve grinned. “Told you so.”

“Why are you here, Geth?” Gareth growled at his sibling. “Don’t you usually hang with the journalism crowd?”

Gethin grimaced. “There’s been a divide among us.”

Steve’s lip curled. “Let me guess, half you sided with Nancy over the swim team making it nationals and the other half thought she went too far?”

Gethin nodded. “Jonathan’s for too much, too far, but most of them think that jocks should be prosecuted more, not less.”

Eddie winced. He had espoused similar thoughts before befriending Steve.

But Steve just snorted. “Like she didn’t enjoy the benefits of dating one last year.”

The whole table erupted in stomping and pounding on the table.

“Ooh...” Jeff said. “Burn!”

Gethin grinned. “I’ll be sure to remind her of that fact. That last year she was all for sports when it pleased her. Thanks, Steve!”

Steve just shook his head.

Gethin skipped away from their table better armed against a furious Nancy.

Steve looked around to make sure that Jonathan and Nancy weren’t within hearing distance. Then he leaned forward.

“Who would be interested in a sequel comic to ‘The Boy With a Bat’?” he whispered conspiratorially.

Everyone else leaned in excitedly.

“What would this one be about?” Brian asked, his voice barely loud enough to be heard in the crowed cafeteria.

“Our hero helping out a bunch of kids in a junkyard fighting off dire wolves,” Steve whispered back in conspiratorial tone.

Steve had learned the term from Eddie. Apparently they were very big wolves. And that sounded to him like the right amount of ‘what the fuck’ the demodogs gave off.

“How did our hero get into that mess?” Eddie asked, his voice on the verge of cracking. He knew that these were things that Steve had gone through for real and that terrified him.

Steve let out a sigh. “By realizing that the kid with the high intelligence and the low wisdom would have gotten himself eaten if our hero hadn’t went along to protect him.”

Eddie’s mouth formed a silent ‘Oh.’ Yeah, there was no doubt that was Dustin. In the few times he had met the kid, he was always struck by how dumb he was despite being a literal fucking genius.

“That sounds so cool,” Gareth breathed. “I would love to read that, man.”

Jeff nodded. “Like you should serialize the whole thing and sell it, dude. You could make bank.”

Steve thought about the NDA that was sitting in a lockbox at the back of his closet and snorted. Those bastards would be on him faster than lightning.

“It’s just something fun to do while Mrs Click drones on and on about the Ottoman Empire,” he said with a shrug.

Eddie pointed at him and clapped. “Yes! Like how could one person take something so interesting and make it duller than dishwater.”

Steve smiled at him gratefully as the conversation shifted to horrible teachers. Eddie was still the only one outside of the “Party” that knew about the Upside Down.

He looked over at Nancy and found that she was glaring at him. He didn’t want to anger her further, so he got up and threw away his garbage. He stacked his tray up and bid the others goodbye.

If she wanted to speak to him, she would have to come to him.

****

Steve had to wait a couple of days, but Nancy did come to him.

It was one of those rare days where Steve didn’t have anything going on but the rest of the Hellfire Club crew did. So he was at his locker making sure that he had all his homework that he needed for the weekend after school.

He was alone for all intents and purposes.

“Steve,” Nancy said, “we need to talk.”

He slammed his locker shut and she winced. “Are you actually here to talk or are you here to excuse your bad behavior and get me to apologize even though I haven’t done anything wrong?”

She frowned at him. “I don’t do that.”

“Whatever, Nance,” Steve said, rolling his eyes and shouldering his backpack. “I don’t want to get into a screaming match right now.”

Nancy held out her hand to stop him. “Would you just wait?”

“Come on,” Steve said with a sigh. “We talk on the way out to my car.” At least if he needed to make a quick getaway, he’d be able to drive off.

He started walking toward the doors and she scrambled to catch up.

“I can’t believe you told Gethin to throw it back in my face that I used to date a jock,” she hissed.

Steve smiled at her smug. “Well you did, Nance. And as I recall, you flirted with me first.”

“Yeah, I did,” Nancy said, ducking her head. She let out deep sigh. “I just want to be a journalist. A real one. But the advisor for the newspaper only sees me as a girl so all I get are the fluff pieces like Homecoming Queen and King and sports like boys’ swimming because all the guys are uncomfortable with all the Speedos.”

Steve snorted. “Only you didn’t go after Ezra, or any of the other members of the team, you went after me. And you did it so hard that Jonathan who I’m pretty sure would hate my guts if I hadn’t saved his life, thought that you were being harsh.”

Nancy pursed her lips. She didn’t know why she went after Steve as hard as she did. She needed a target and Steve was right...there.

It had been so easy to lash out at him for Barb, the monsters, the frustration of not being taken seriously, for all of her problems. But she knew he didn’t deserve it.

“He told me that unless I fixed it,” she said softly, “that he would eat lunch and go home by himself.”

Steve laughed bitterly. “So you’re not even here because you think you need to apologize. You’re here because your boyfriend won’t put out until you do. Jesus Christ, Nancy. What even is this?”

He stopped in front of the doors. “I’m not your punching bag anymore. I’ve got friends now. Friends that really care about me, for me.”

Nancy sighed. “I’m not trying to start a fight.”

“Not this time,” Steve scoffed.

She winced, but nodded. “Yeah okay, I deserved that.” She lowered her voice and hissed, “It’s just really hard to fathom you liking men all of a sudden. We had sex, you got off. And now you’re with Eddie and gay and I just don’t know what to think anymore.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He heaved a sigh and hauled her out to the parking lot where they were less likely to be heard.

“Fucking hell, Nance,” he huffed as they walked to his car. “You think I don’t realize how fucking messed up that is. I thought for a bit that maybe I liked both, because of what I felt for you. Because I did love you. I still do, for Christ’s sake.” He threw his arms in the air in frustration.

He tugged on his hair. “But the more I thought about us. Our relationship, I realized that I was just trying so hard to be what everyone wanted me to be.” He started waving his hands around as he tried to get his point across. “The perfect boy next door. But that isn’t me. I love theater and boys and not having to worry about who was fucking who and why. Because all that ‘King’ shit was exhausting as fuck.”

Nancy let out a low shuddering breath. “Okay. I’m sorry.” Steve scoffed. “No, I am. I mean it. You deserve to be happy and I don’t know why I’m still hung up on this.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Because you want me as your fall back in case shit goes down with Jonathan.”

“What?!” she squawked.

Suddenly everyone was staring at her because of her outburst. “That’s not true!” she whispered harshly, leaning forward.

“I’ve said it before and we both know it is, Nance,” Steve said, his face twisted in that same pained expression from when she couldn’t tell him she ever loved him. “You broke up with me right after our first go round with the monsters and then not even a full month later you were back with me. What happened, huh? Did Jonathan turn you down the first time and that’s why you came running back?”

Nancy crossed her arms and looked away.

Steve huffed out a bitter laugh. “That’s it, isn’t it? You couldn’t even tell me you loved me at all after our fight at Tina’s Halloween party. You’re standing there getting mad it me for not loving you, but you’re the same. You’re exactly the same.”

She let out a shuddering sigh. “You’re right, Steve. You’re right about all of it. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all I wanted from you,” he said, “an actual honest apology. Thank you.” Steve let out his own breath that he had been holding.

Nancy bit her bottom lip and looked up at him through her lashes. “Can we still be friends?” Her voice wobbled and her eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

Steve pulled her into a hug and she wrapped her arms around him tightly.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Of course we can.”

Steve looked up and saw Jonathan watching them. He let go of Nancy and held her at arms length. “You are a great person, Nancy Wheeler, but you’ve got think past your own needs, okay?”

She nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” he said gently. “Now go. Jonathan is waiting for you.”

She looked over her shoulder and nodded. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Steve watched as she walked away, he could feel a part of his wounded heart heal, just a little.

It wasn’t enough. It might not ever be enough. But it was a start. He just wished it didn’t feel like a fucking Chutes and Ladders game.

****

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

In order for Nancy to be a better person, she has to fight against her nature. Something that won't come easy.

Tag List:

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

@goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian

@thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @angels-of-hades @mugloversonly @y4r3luv

@greeniebean911 @birbsauce @acingthecounts @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

[keepingitformyself]

we might just get away with it (i)

A/N: hey all!!! this is the first part of my first ever series, i’ve had this one in the drafts for a while and i’ll try my best to update it as much as i can. a-lot of this first part is just setting up readers life until their eventual meet with natasha (who goes by natalie rushman in this) this is an AU. HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!! i had a lot of fun writing this one.

ALSO: in honor of scarlett johansson opening an instagram account.

synopsis: hollywood is a tricky place for someone new like you, a certain elusive redhead is hoping for you to let her in.

pairings: writer!natasha romanoff x youngactress!reader

genre: fluff.

warnings: none.

part two found here. part ii

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

—————————

you hadn’t been in the dating scene since you graduated college two years ago. it was a long time to go without going on a proper date with anyone, even your mother had called at one point to voice her concerns on why her only daughter hadn’t brought anyone back home to introduce.

truth be told, the mere idea of a relationship really stressed you out. especially now that you’ve been working tirelessly since the second you left college. the week after graduation your plane had already been booked four months in advance when you found out you landed the role for a lead in a film.

you left your hometown in texas and flew to la for a three month shoot. it was only in post-production for five months before the first teaser dropped and two months later the film finally hit hbo max to stream.

the success of it was enough to earn you an online following. people within the industry had reached out in hopes of getting to know you or even work with you. and now people knew your name enough for you to have been stopped a handful of times during grocery runs.

it was back to work in getting auditions and doing things that kept your artist mind flowing. it wasn’t too long before you landed a role for another lead in a netflix series.

the director of the series was a well known one. greta gerwig, it was her first time directing for tv as opposed to film, she told you she was truly impressed by your delivery in the film you’d been in months prior. you felt incredibly lucky to have even been thought of for her leading girl.

you told her you were a fan of the work she’d done. how you truly cherished her way of encapsulating the female experience through her writing and directing.

she smiled gratefully and said she hoped you’d be willing to accept the role she was practically offering to you, you knew she was just teasing. no one was stupid enough to let an opportunity like this pass. you said yes without hesitance.

it was a lot more intimidating this time around.

you were set to shoot for six months in london. a whole different country thousands of miles away from friends and family. you left home two months later.

greta was amazing, the sets were amazing, the cast was amazing, the crew you were especially grateful for. you made sure they knew that by ordering a free coffee and pastry truck to set every friday.

some of it comes as a blur to you. it’s easy to get lost in the craft when you love it so much, your mother told you once. you worked tirelessly often times worrying the ones around you but you promised you were fine. it was very easy for others to say how lovable and playful you were while still being able to maintain the professionalism that was needed on set.

it’s what they loved most about you. so it was no surprise to anyone when there started to be some conversations involving you, the star, and the series.

there had been mutterings between crew and even your own cast-mates.

you were in the city today, sat outside a corner coffee shop in mayfair. devyn, a cast mate of yours, and self proclaimed local, offered to show you around london.

‘i heard gary, one of our light technicians say that he heard the producers talk about how they’re expecting a huge rollout once they start announcing the series.’ devyn said as he sipped on his latte.

‘what do you mean?’ you took your eyes off the busy street to look at your cast mate.

‘you’re an absolute powerhouse in this series, you know that right?’ he told you seriously. ‘everyone sees it, there’s no doubt this show is gonna get big. they’re already expecting it to be.’

you cringed at his words, you were never good for taking compliments. ‘oh god, please stop.’ he smiled with a shake of his head, a look on his face that screamed, you’ll see.

turns out devyn was definitely not talking out of his ass.

greta had started to pull you out for meetings with the producers. they spoke to you about how netflix was willing to go all in for promoting.

greta told you herself, ‘although netlfix will definitely be a big help, i think just the show on its own is already set for a very promising release.’

they had you sign contracts and explained to you what would happen once filming was over. 1. you’re gonna go home and take a well needed three month break. 2. prepare yourself for what’s to come. 3. then you were to be called back in for promo shoots and teaser reels. 4. get ready for the big premiere.

‘it’s gonna be a lot, there’s no way of knowing the scale of success this will reach except that it will be huge, and a lot of that will be you.’ tony, one of the producers told you. greta along with everyone else in the meeting nodded to his words.

‘yeah, some stills from some of the finished scenes released a few weeks ago. it’s easy to say a lot of people seemed to make noise from that.’ rhys, another producer said.

your blood ran cold. although it was easy to say you were proud of how far you were able to come on such a short notice… it also sort of felt like a lot was being thrown at you all at once.

you maybe had an idea of what your life would be looking like afterwards. you remember seeing all sorts of opinions once it was found out by the world that you’d be the next lead for greta gerwig’s first ever series.

mostly everyone was excited. greta on her own was an insanely talented writer and director, people were happy to hear she’d be turning to tv and seeing what she’d come up with. you remember the week following the announcement feeling a little overwhelmed, all due to the men in cameras who had followed you around for a week.

‘rising actress Y/N Y/L/N seen leaving her west hollywood condo ahead of reports saying that she’s been casted for the lead in greta gerwig’s next directorial project.’

you’re thinking that maybe life will look like that but multiplied by a thousand, but you’re hoping not…? the success part will be great. why wouldn’t it be? it’s all you’ve ever wanted. to be a successful actress. but at the expense of having your life put on a pedestal? it was a very tricky thing to play at.

greta gave you a smile, almost teasing, like she knew the big secret that everyone else didn’t.

she leaned forward with her arms crossed on the table. ‘once this is over, it will never truly be over. are you ready for it?’

nothing could have ever prepared you enough for what would come with the release of the series. if you thought everyone knew your name before, they definitely do now.

the release of the series was just seven months after you finished filming it. it definitely had a huge rollout like everyone else said it would. you don’t remember much of the premier either. it was a bunch of flashes and getting asked questions. as soon as you got home you knocked out cold.

number one in seventy three countries was a lot. you wouldn’t even want to imagine the amount of people it took to watch you for that to happen.

but with the success of the series also came a huge amount of scrutiny on your personal life. within the week of its release you’d had an influx of followers on any social platform they could find you on.

apparently that still wasn’t enough. people were itching to know more about the new girl that had come out of nowhere and stolen their attention in just a week.

it was all very scary. it was all mostly positive, at least the things you’ve seen and been shown. your agent and team did a great job at keeping you away from all the bad. you still knew it was all there though. people loved you but people also really disliked you.

you’ve also come to learn that people chronically online are insane. especially if you give them something to hyper fixate on, you knew of the tweets and posts people had been making of you. it made you absolutely freak out how fast people were to find out every little thing there was to know about you in such a short time.

‘i want you to go home for the week. not home in LA, home as in with your mom.’ samantha, your agent, told you. samantha along with your publicist fred, had seen firsthand what was being said online. she’s been in the industry long enough to know how ugly it can get for the victims, you were young and she wanted to protect you from that as much as possible.

‘i called your mom, she’s already expecting you home by tomorrow morning. your plane leaves at midnight.’ you nodded gratefully. the tension in your shoulders had slouched a little after hearing that. you missed your mom and you were scared as shit right now.

samantha was there in the uber when you were dropped off. she bid you goodbye and told you she’d call you for details on the next flight back to LA. ‘rest as much as you can, the press tour is gonna hit real hard.’

now came the insanely difficult part. the week back home went too fast and now you’re on a plane back to LA where your agent and a stylist were awaiting your arrival.

as soon as you’re off the gate a beefy man in jeans and a polo helps to escort you towards your luggage and eventually the car. ‘ma’am, just a heads up. there’s paps.’ he tells you before quickly ushering you out the glass doors and into the suv.

you don’t remember much after that. just that as soon as you arrived to your condo you were quickly pushed into a room with a stylist and pushed into another car after that.

the week had gone fast for the amount you’ve been doing. you’d met up with your cast-mates for the first time in a while and you were happy for that. most days it was just going to interviews answering questions, promoting, playing question games, more questions, etc…

it was finally friday. but promo was far from over. ‘you’re flying out tomorrow morning to new york and then we’re off to europe for the week.’

tonight was the huge post-premier party for the series. it was expected that there’d be quite a few well known names attending tonight aside from the cast. although a part of you was dreading another night of questions and just overall socializing, you knew it was needed to network.

cameras flashed in your face and people shouted your name upon arrival, but people were quick to let you in. ‘there’s a lot of people who want to speak with you.’ samantha tells you. you nod and put on your best brave face for the night.

samantha lingers around you as you cycle through speaking with all kinds of people. producers, actors, writers and the like. the first two hours fly by and things have reached some sort of stasis by then.

you’re in the middle of a conversation with some cast mates when tony— who you recognize as one of your producers— walks up to you with a redhead in tow.

‘the woman of the hour!’ he raises his arms to hug you.

‘i have to introduce you to natalie! she’s an excellent writer!’ the redhead next to him who you now know as natalie lets out a dry laugh at the man’s words. he was very obviously drunk.

and you see now that she is very obviously attractive.

she takes a few steps towards you and sticks out her hand for you to shake.

‘i hear you’re the talk of the town. have not stopped reading about you online.’ the smirk she wears makes you appreciate her beauty even more.

it was true. you were everywhere— in the tabloids, the headlines…natasha indulged in every single piece of information about you that she came across.

she also might’ve convinced tony to somehow introduce you two when she found out he was working with you.

she was a fan since your last film, and as a working screenwriter for film and television, she caught a bit of inspiration from seeing you on her screen.

‘i’ve gotta say, i was really impressed by your performance in this show. greta is a long time friend, she did good in choosing you.’ natalie compliments.

‘oh, thank you! it was a pleasure to work with her…she’s great.’ you cringe at your words. you still aren’t any better at taking these compliments no matter how many you get.

natalie smiles at you in silent understanding. she’s picked up on the small awkwardness that underlies the conversation.

you let out a low huff and motion towards the bartender to get you a shot of tequila. natalie quirks an eyebrow at your order but doesn’t question it.

‘do you want a drink?’ you turn to natalie with a smile. not only is your social battery slowly starting to diminish but talking to someone like natalie will have you saying nonsense.

you figure you’ll need a drink if you’re gonna continue to speak with her.

‘a diet coke will do me right. i’m driving home tonight.’ she says, the bartender nods and fixes your drinks.

an hour later and the drinks are sure to have calmed you down. in fact they’ve done more than just calm you down.

natalie and you spend a long while talking about anything and everything. you bond over being major nerds when it comes to philosophy. she tells you about how she double majored in philosophy and english at nyu.

‘my love for english had always existed but after taking a philosophy course my freshman year, it’s like i needed to write about these things that were talked about. i needed people to see what i thought about.’ natalie explains to you.

you’ve come to enjoy natalie despite only have met her about an hour and a half ago.

you tell her about how you were a huge thespian in high school and entering college, how philosophy was an added bonus when you figured out they both go very well together.

you’re grasping her arm as you explain it to her.

‘i mean genuinely i would hear so much about aristotle in my ethics class and then he’d somehow be connected to creating the 6 elements of a play! how crazy is that?!’

natalie is trying hard to concentrate on your words. you’d think it’d be a lot easier for her given the fact that she hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol…but all she can pay attention to is your lips. how they’ve now plumped up slightly due to your drinking.

she’s completely smitten with you by now, and she’s just met you. you’re definitely not like what the internet makes you out to be. for the most part, it really is just the alcohol in you.

you continue to ramble on.

‘honestly, i think socrates is good guy— like he has some great ideas but it’s kinda annoying how he thinks his way is the only way and he makes it his entire personality— ugh hold on i need to go piss.’

you’re clearly too drunk to care about what words leave your mouth. natalie doesn’t seem to mind it— and quite frankly neither do you.

‘do you need help getting there?’ natalie is quick to ask. all in good intentions, of course.

‘uhhh, yeah.’ you’re quick to agree. you have a rule, always travel in pairs when alcohol is present.

your arm is hooked to natalie’s as she helps lead you to the restrooms. it’s here when you get a slight whiff of her. you cringe at how weird you think of it in your head.

but she smells awfully appealing. like suede, lemon and a fireplace. all combined.

‘you smell really nice,’ you say, too worried about your bladder to care.

you feel vibrations of a chuckle leave natalie, you smile when you see her smiling too.

you nearly run into a stall as soon as you’re in the seemingly empty bathroom, thank god, you think. pee anxiety is a real thing.

you feel a little more level headed after doing your business. natalie waits by the door staring as you dry your hands.

‘feel better?’ you hear her ask.

‘much,’ you smile, a drunk one, your mind a little hazy.

‘i had a fun time tonight, with you, i mean.’ you find yourself saying.

she quirks an eyebrow. you continue.

‘i’ve had a really stressful past few weeks, it was nice to just…drink and talk knowing my words wouldn’t be plastered on some magazine issue the next day.’ you finish. your body is still buzzing. the alcohol making your body slightly move in place. but nonetheless you feel oddly content.

natalie smiles. a really big one.

‘i’m glad i could help take the edge off,’ she says.

you chuckle, turn to the mirror and make sure your makeup is still in place. a ding from your phone makes itself known, indicating a message. you dig through your clutch bag to get it.

we’re leaving now, you have an early start. plane to nyc leaves at 7:35am.

the text message from samantha reads.

you huff.

‘sorry to cut this short, natalie. my presence is needed near the entrance. i have to be in new york tomorrow before noon.’ you smile apologetically

she smiles. a part of her wasn’t surprised at all. you’re you, and everyone wants to be around you. she was surprised she even had your attention for more than an hour.

she nods. ‘i get it, can i ask why though?’

‘interview with fallon, i think.’ is all you say before you step closer to the redhead and press a kiss to her cheek. you think nothing of it.

‘truly, it was lovely to meet you natalie.’ and she doesn’t have the chance to reply before you’re out the restroom door.

natalie realizes she never got your number.

two days later, she’s made it back to her home in new york. natalie decides to shake off the jet lag with late night televison and a glass of wine in hand.

ironically, jimmy fallon is on.

‘please welcome…!’ and she sees you appear before her.

she is so captivated, she doesn’t realize she’s finished the bottle of pinot grigio next to her.

stupid as it sounds, this is when natalie rushman decided she wanted to be a part of whatever world you were creating for yourself.

[blingblong55]

Talk to me- Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Based on a request:

hii!! your writing is so good and i love it so much ueueue…can i please…PLEASE…i need a few crumbs of gary roach sanderson…where he breaks his usual silence to suddenly flirt back with a gender neutral reader who had been flirting a lot with him on the comms

A/N: I know we all say and some confirm Roach is mute but let's pretend he isn't for rn.

GN!Reader, fluff?

Being friends with the quietest man on your team, Roach is a task that is harder than any other mission you've had. He is always writing in his journal, occasionally looking at you with a small smile. Soap teases him nonstop, something that Roach has gotten used to. You and he talk very rarely, in missions he only addresses you when needed. Out of all the men you work with, he is the one who is the most respectful and reserved. Ghost had that title until he started telling jokes to the team.

Price recently made the decision to send Roach with you on a mission, something that is rare considering you and Gaz are the ultimate teammates. As you board onto the Heli, Roach patiently waits his turn to get on. You two land close to the place you'll call base for the duration of the assignment. Three long months in the forest with the quietest man, nothing too much to expect.

By month 1, he had gotten used to you doing all the talking, telling him the awful jokes that only made you laugh. He had a sense you spent more time with Ghost than you admit to. During one of the times he and you went to scout for a perfect spot to use as an observational post, Gary finally said more than his typical words.

"Grim, there's a huge hole in the ground, watch your step."

"How'd you find that out?"

"Almost fell because of it."

"Thought you were smarter than that."

"Clearly not."

It was the most he had spoken since you two got into the country for the mission. To be honest, you thought he held some grudge over you but are relieved he cared for you not to fall into the hole he almost fell into. As the mission continued on, and another month passed, he made it clear he was only here for business. Which was in part annoying since you had already gotten used to the other men in your team talking nonstop.

The final night, the day you and he had to execute the mission with precision, he finally spoke more. Currently, you were climbing a tree and he hoped on comms to talk you through it.

"Don't fall."

"With that accent, who wouldn't"

"Watch it, Grim"

You laugh a little, "Oh, c'mon, let me take you on a date."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"You ruined me asking you out." You could hear the smile in his voice.

"What a shame then."

"Very."

When you finally got off, you walked to the marked weak spots of the enemy's base. The whole time you and him were being very flirty and joking around with each other. He knew it and you knew it, it was all to keep yourself occupied over comms as you two walked through the forest, separate from the other.

"Wanna hear a joke?"

"Go ahead."

"What do you call a soldier who survived mustard gas and pepper spray?"

"What?"

"A seasoned veteran."

"You can do better."

"Ouch."

You two eventually reached the points from which you'd be camping.

"See me?"

"No."

"Boo."

"Hoo."

"Terrible, Roach"

"Says the one with the shit jokes."

"Bold of you to assume they are shit."

"Bold of you to assume they aren't."

It was 0200, only 30 minutes to go until attack time. You were bored and decided to flirt, to keep yourself going and to look forward to some better conversations after the mission.

"Roach?"

"Yes, Grim?"

"Do you fancy me like I fancy you?"

"Not one bit."

"Tell the truth."

"Oh totally in love, Grim." he chuckles

After more silence.

"Want me to dance for you like the birds do it for their potential mates?"

"You are makin' me blush, Roach" You look through your scope, watching the enemy intently.

"Anything for my potential mate."

"Better see you dance or I'll feed ya to the rookies."

"That a promise or threat?"

"Guarantee."

"Better give me a headstart, R/N."

"Aren't you fast enough to outrun them?"

"Not so young."

"Clearly."

"Respect your elders."

"Yes of course, where are my manners, Grandpa."

You hear him laugh a little, "You'll get us caught, my dear."

During the mission, he kept you in check, always asking for your current location, and wanting to hear your voice.

"Grim, how copy?"

"Head over heels for that voice, Roach."

"I do make the ladies/lads, crazy after all."

"Doubt it."

"Rude."

The mission was a success although you were nowhere in sight, which worried Roach more. He looked for you through the ashes of the explosion. Screaming your name.

"Grim, Talk to me, how copy?" Voice neutral.

-Static-

"Grim, no time to play jokes! How copy?" Distressed.

-Static-

"Grim, my dear, answer me." Desperate.

-Static-

"Grim?" Scared.

-Static-

"R/N?" Desperation seeps through.

-Static-

"R/N, how copy?" Has a clear answer you could be KIA-

"I'm here, fell into the hole you warned me about."

"'Course you did."

He didn't know it then but you heard him, listen to his words carefully. The once quiet man speaking, dancing with his words to hear you speak once again.

A/N: I hope this was...okay.

Tags: @vampsquerade