#the life series is still on break it’s too early for this shit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dcandmarvelimagines · 3 months ago

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sweeter than you ever knew. (pt. 2)

Series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 Pairing: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: AFAB reader (uses she/her pronouns), 1st person POV, non-mutant Reader, Oral sex (f! recieving), vaginal fingering, overstimulation, Wade breaks his nose so a bit of blood, Wade is an absolute pervert Logan is too, voyeurism, Logan puts his cigar out on his hand, Logan is also very emotionally stunted but we'll work on that Author's note: Holy shit guys?? This blew up in a way I totally didn't expect. I seriously thought this would just be something I uploaded and would get like five notes. You guys have been so sweet! Thank you so much! I hope you like this next installment. Things take a bit of a turn at the end and in the next chapter, but fear not besties, we will make it out of this and to a happy ending I swear! ao3 Tags (if you would like to be included or removed, just let me know): @fallout-girl219 @xolosimp @o0aligoth0o

Early that Monday, I met with my supervisor. When I explained that I was becoming attached to Al’s roommates and it would most likely affect my working relationship, he just sighed. Apparently, Al had requested that I’m her only caretaker and said she would refuse anyone else. “So keep your head on straight around them. Don’t make me regret it.”

When I walked into the apartment later that day, I knew Wade would make me fail. He instantly wrapped me in his arms, covering my face in slobbery kisses. But I was able to keep him at arm's length while I was on the clock for Al. He was allowed one kiss when I got there and nothing else. Despite his protests, he respected my boundaries. With Wade forced to behave, it allowed me to start talking to Logan more. There was some sort of tension between us that had eased. The crease between his eyebrows whenever he saw me had slowly faded. I saw him smile more often. He was surprisingly nice to be around once I got past his gruff exterior. I kept myself an open book, answering any questions he had, but he kept his life close to his chest. I didn’t expect him to spill his guts and I accepted the little crumbs he gave me. But sometimes he was broody and quiet, keeping his responses short, a distant look in his eyes.

Nevertheless, it began to grow into something more. It started off small, little touches to the back, him forcing me to sit when I had been rearranging Al’s furniture. Then it was a gift of delicious chocolate when they came back from France and a home cooked meal when I was too busy to make it myself. I found his eyes tracing my body more often, lingering in certain places. He sometimes stood just a little too close to me while I did the dishes. He wore a shirt less often and I greedily drank in his body when I could. None of this escaped Wade’s notice. I knew he was scheming.

It was a crisp autumn night when I climbed out on the fire escape to settle next to Logan. The cigar smoke was a comfort now, earthy and sweet. We sat in silence for a few moments. Sometimes that was enough for me, just to be in his presence, but not tonight. I shoved my chilly hands deep into the pockets of my jacket. I titled my head, watching his cheeks hollow around the cigar, the ash skittering across his forearm. He didn’t so much as flinch as the hot ash touched him. “Could I try?” I had tried smoking before but had just ended up coughing for a minute straight. He shook his head, watching a bike roll by.

“Last thing you need is lung cancer.” I tentatively laid my head on his shoulder. He would still sometimes jerk away like I had burned him. This time, he allowed me to sink closer, our thighs pressed against each other. I could feel the heat of him sinking through my clothes.

“Mm, it smells good though.” He takes a long drag, letting the smoke linger in his lungs before letting it out in a puff. A long moment of silence passes. We’ve been slowly circling each other for weeks, all lingering touches and heavy glances. How would he react if I finally did something? Pull away? I knew he and Wade still slept together, Al complained about it enough that I couldn’t escape it. Wade and I hadn’t really gone beyond our kisses. Despite what he called himself on my phone, I didn’t want this to be a friends with benefits situation. He seemed to know that and hadn’t pushed for more. Wade made it very clear to the both of us that he has no qualms about sharing. If anything, I think he wants Logan and I to have sex more than he wants to have sex with me.

Steeling my resolve, I rest my chin on his shoulder. “Can I try a taste?” Logan glanced down at me, that crease reappearing between his eyebrows.

“What?” His voice is dry, a touch on edge. I wanted to apologize for my flirting and run but I can’t allow myself to. My fingers trace the corner of his lip, the edge of his jaw. He turned just an inch closer to me and I’m able to take in his lined and handsome face.

“Just one taste?” It comes out breathy, barely audible. But he hears it, he always does. There’s the faintest tick at the corner of his lips like he was going to smile. “I promise to be gentle,” now that got a smirk out of him.

“You don’t scare me sweetheart,” his voice was a low rumble.

“Then why haven’t you kissed me yet?” He pressed the still burning cigar onto his palm. The smell of burning flesh floated up to me and my nose twitched at it. “Why would you-“ but the words are cut off as his unburned palm cupped the back of my neck and dragged me closer, our lips pressing together. The kiss is chaste. My eyes fall shut, a surprised gasp leaving me. His beard scratches lightly at my face as we move our heads. But then he nudges my nose, tilting his head back. “No, please,” I whispered, chasing his lips. I felt his sigh ghost across my face before he cupped both cheeks and drew me back against his mouth. I moan against him, clutching at the front of his sweatshirt, wanting him closer, craving it. Then his lips are moving against mine. My hands slide into his hair and give the strands a tug. His mouth parts on a growl and I take the opportunity to lick my way in. I can taste the tang of whiskey, the sweetness of the cigar, a hint of mint. I want to crush myself against him, to feel his body against mine, to explore his skin.

Just as I’m reaching under his sweatshirt, hungry for the feel of the torso that’s been haunting me, he withdraws. His breath still coasts across my face and my nose was full of the scent of him. My breath was ragged while his was perfectly even. Embarrassing. My eyes are slow to open. I found him only a few inches away, a smug expression on his handsome face.

“There,” he whispers, “got your taste.”

“Asshole.” Now he smiles, perfect teeth glinting in the streetlight.

“Yeah, get that in your pretty head now.” His calloused fingers tapped at my temple. “I’m not someone to get attached to.”

“Well she’s sticking around me and I’m about as much boyfriend material as sandpaper.” I jumped nearly out of my skin at the sound of Wade’s voice. Logan just smirked and circled his hands around my wrists, squeezed once to make me let go of his sweatshirt. I had half a mind to refuse, crawl into his lap and kiss every inch of skin I could find. But I let my hands fall weakly to my lap. “When you two fuck, can you record it? I’ve tried finding look-alikes on pornhub, but it’s just not the same.” I huffed, glancing down at where Wade’s head was, a spark of annoyance at him interrupting Logan and I. He’s half laying on the metal grate, his legs dangling off the couch beneath the window.

“Ain’t gonna happen dickwad.” I can hear Logan’s lighter flicking before the smell of the cigar is back. I hoped he had just meant recording and that gruff tone wasn’t for the idea of us having sex. But he let me remain close so I took that as a good sign.

“Don’t listen to him, baby bunny. Look, he literally tried killing me and we ended up fucking in the end.”

“Was still trying to kill you,” Logan growls. Wade gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like Logan actually succeeded.

“Don’t lie peanut! What’s more romantic than stabbing me in the neck? That Honda Odyssey was shaking all night.”

“I hope that’s not how you plan on being romantic with me,” I laughed, reaching down to tug at Wade’s cheek. “I can’t snap back like you two.”

“Of course not darling,” he covered my hand in sloppy kisses, sucking a hickey on my wrist. “I’ll let you stab me in the neck while you fuck me. Would never want to hurt that sexy face.”

“Ugh, get a room you two,” Logan snapped, nudging my knee with his. I glanced back at him but found his face reserved again. As much as I wanted to linger and force my time on Logan, I knew he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“We should take Mary Puppins out, yeah?” Wade nodded, wiggling free of his awkward position. The decrepit dog came bounding around the corner. She wiggled her naked butt as Wade grabbed her leash. I looked back at Logan. He was determinately ignoring me, eyes locked onto the dark apartment across the way. “I’ll probably head home once that’s done.” He nodded and brought the cigar back to his lips. “Why did you put it out on your hand?”

“Didn’t want to drop it on you. It’s a nasty burn.” There was something fleeting and tender that passed over his averted face. A little smile spread across my face.

“Thank you, you’re my hero.” I pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek, lingering just a beat too long, before I pulled away. “Goodnight Logan.” I didn’t wait for his reply, if he even intended to give one.

Wade was happy with the progress me and Logan had made.

But it wasn’t fast enough.

Which is how I found myself locked in their shared cramped bathroom, Wade’s head buried between my legs, while two of his fingers plunged inside me. My legs were shaking, my heel pressed against his shoulder to spread me open more. “Wade,” I whimpered as tears pricked my eyes. He had already drawn one orgasm from me with his rough and agile fingers before he dropped to his knees. “I c-can’t.”

“I know you can honey bun.” His breath was hot against my tender skin and I gasped. “Just one more for me, yeah?” I nodded, hips grinding against him. “There you go. You’re close again aren’t you?” I nodded again, eyes rolling back. He kitten licked across my overly sensitive clit. I knew I was making a mess of his face but he seemed to revel in it. He left a trail of sticky kisses along my bruised and bitten thigh. “Do you hear yourself? Got that WAP.” I smacked his head before pushing him deeper to keep him from running his mouth more. He latched back onto my clit, sucking harshly, and a third finger wedged into me. My back arched and I had to bite my lip hard to stay quiet. My eyes fell closed. His spare hand moved from my hip where it had been holding me.

The sudden sound of the door opening made me freeze. Al had laid down for a nap which was the only reason I allowed Wade to drag me in here. But instead I found Logan framed in the doorway. He had the look of a deer in headlights. “Now peanut,” Wade cooed, his head laid against my thigh. to look at the other man. He didn’t stop fingering me, the squelching sounds suddenly too loud. “Don’t you know it’s rude to eavesdrop.”

“I wasn’t, you two are too fucking loud.” Logan’s nostrils were flared, heaving chest straining against his thin tank top.

“Uh huh,” Wade teased, his tongue swirling around my clit. My hand clamped over my mouth as a sob caught in my chest. “That massive tent in your pants has nothing to do with you hovering.” Logan growled, palming at himself, seemingly angry at his body. “Come on handsome, look at her.” Wade pushed my thighs farther apart, his free hand spreading me.

“Oh god,” I mumbled, embarrassment making me cover my face. I couldn’t hear Logan’s steps, he was always so light on his feet, but I could feel him examining me. The hairs at the back of my neck stood on end.

“Don’t hide from us gorgeous,” Wade chides. “Logan Ioves to watch orgasm faces. I can feel you fluttering, I know you're close.” When I don’t remove my hands, Wade sighs, the exhale of air making my hips jerk. “Come on, you can be brave for us.” I take a shaky breath and remove my hands, curling them around the edge of the counter. Wade smiled while Logan’s dialated eyes were glued to my pussy. I watched his Adam's apple bob and he shifted from one foot to the other. “Good job,” he kissed my clit, popping obscenely. “Now make a mess on my face.”

He dove back between my legs. With Logan there, Wade seemed determined to force me to come as hard and as fast as he could. His fingers drove into me with firm thrusts, tongue flicking cruelly at my clit. My leg was trembling so much it slipped from Wade’s shoulder, only to be caught by Logan. I struggled to focus on him, my vision blurry from prickling tears of overstimulation. His calloused palm traced up my ankle and calf before notching behind my knee. With my pussy covered by Wade’s head, Logan could only look at my face. I wanted him closer, to feel his mouth against mine again, that scrape of his beard. His eyes fastened to my neck, watching my erratic pulse.

“Logan,” my voice tilts up at the end, hands reaching for him. Before I was able to even breathe, just as the orgasm was rushing through me, Logan’s lips crashed against mine. I clung to him, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and locking both of my shuddering legs around his waist, moaning wildly into his mouth. Wade groaned as his head was pinned between our hips and the vibrations made me cry out. Logan was kissing me like a man starved, biting at my lips, grunting like he was the one coming. A combination of our spit collected at the corner of my mouth and he licked at it hungrily. His blunt nails dug into the tender skin behind my knees as he clutched me closer. Tears streaked down my cheeks as Wade kept working me into near painful overstimulation.

Logan separated first, his forehead pressed to mine. My breath was ragged, sweat collecting along my hairline. I wanted more, to lose myself between their touches, their bodies. Wade finally stilled, his fingers still buried deep. His mouth released me and I gasped as his harsh breaths coasted across me. “You okay down there?” My voice shook. I reached down and ran my nails across his scalp.

“Broke my nose, but it’s okay.” I bolted up straight and Logan stumbled back to avoid my head cracking against his. Blood and my slick was smeared across his face, staining his white teeth as he beamed up at me. The tip of his nose was bent at an odd angle.

“I’m so sorry,” I cupped his face, panic rushing through me. “Are you okay?”

“He’s fine,” Logan said. One of his big hands braced on Wade’s head before he grabbed the broken nose with two fingers. With a pop and a grunt from Wade, the nose slid back into place. “There,” he tapped Wade’s sticky face, “good as new.”

“You’re always so nice to me,” Wade grumbled, itching the rapidly healing bump. His drenched fingers slid from me, glistening in the harsh bathroom light. Logan glanced between Wade and I, one finger twirling in the drawstring of his black sweatpants. I wish I could read his mind, be able to tell his emotions from one glance, or a touch. I wanted to understand this unsure look on his face. He almost seemed nervous to be in here now that the haze of lust had passed. He swallowed thickly before he pressed a kiss to my cheek.

“See you tomorrow sweetheart.” My arms, which were about to latch around his neck to keep him close, hung limply in the air. I blinked as he walked away, disappearing into their dark bedroom. Wade shook his head as he stood and closed the bathroom door.

“Did I do something?” I whispered, knowing Logan would hear me anyway. Wade’s hands went to my thighs, kneading at the tight muscles, leaving behind wet handprints with his right one.

“No, he’s just a fucking idiot who doesn’t think he deserves happiness. I’ve been trying to ease him into this but he’s stubborn.” He turned his head, “and he’s stupid!” I heard their bedroom door snap shut. “He’s worried he’ll scare you off. Just give him time. He’s just…just had a lot happen to him.” I nodded. “Don’t take it personally, okay?”

“Okay,” I mumbled.

“Are you two done in there?!” A cane hit the door. “She needs to read me my mail!”

Never more in my life have I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. Only compounded by Wade wiping the door open, cocking his hip to glare at his roommate. I knew she was blind, that she had completely lost vision almost twenty years ago. But that didn’t stop me from stretching my shirt down to try and cover myself, crossing my legs. “I see Miss sleepy granny pants is awake. What do you need? A diaper change?” Al scoffed, her cane clicking along the floorboards of the hallway as she moved to the kitchen. Once she was out of our sight, Wade plucked my panties from the floor.

“Why?” He shrugged, an evil glint in his eyes.

“Maybe I need to get him used to your scent, like a dog.” I rolled my eyes but bit back a hiss as he dragged the coarse material through my wet folds. “Need a lot of it I think, yeah, nice and soaked.” I shoved his hand away and he tucked my panties into his pocket. Wade helped me off the counter, his hands braced on my waist to keep me steady. My jeans had been tossed carelessly to the side and I dreaded putting them back on without the barrier of my underwear. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you wear those pesky jeans, even if they do make your ass look so good I want to rip them off you every time you wear them.” He passed through the bathroom and into his and Logan’s room. I peeked around the edge of the door frame and nearly fainted at the sight.

Logan was splayed across their dark sheets, body bare, hard cock in his hand. While the room was dim, the beams of light from the hallway were able to reach in. The shadows played over his muscles and I watched as they flexed. I wasn’t able to see his cock well, both his hand and the poor lighting limited my vision. But I was able to see a long, thick vein along the underside. My face heated at the sight of him. “Knock, asshole,” his voice was husky. The sound of him made my toes curl. If I hadn’t just had a mind melting orgasm, I would have been striding into that room, ready to do anything he wanted me to. His stomach fluttered as his strokes became more rapid.

“Here,” Wade said as he tossed my drenched panties on Logan’s face. His hips jerked, knuckles flashing white around himself. Wade searched through a drawer before pulling something from inside. “Now be good and keep those right there for when I come back.” Logan growled, removing the fabric from his face but kept it clutched in his fist. Wade blew him a kiss and a wave before closing the door again. He offered me a pair of sweatpants. I tugged them on with a mumbled thank you, having to roll the waistband down multiple times so I wasn’t swimming in them. Wade pinched my chin and our eyes locked. “I’ll get him to warm up, promise.” I nodded. “Now go take care of Miss Migoo. Remember to text me when you get home.”

“Of course,” I stood on my toes to kiss his healed nose. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry babykins. If it makes you feel better, I was near suffocation. So a busted nose was the best case scenario.” He laughed at my horrified expression. “Hey, I’d much rather die from pussy smothering than my heart being ripped out.”

“You know, that doesn’t make me feel much better.” He smirked and drew me closer, his lips connecting with mine. I could taste the tang of me coating him. But I pulled back first. I needed to keep my head on straight for the last hour of my time with Al. “Keep it down with him, please? It’ll be too distracting.” His expression turned wicked.

“Trust me, I have a way I’ll shut him up.” His hands coasted down my hips, grabbing a handful of my ass. “I’ll send pictures of what happens to your cute little panties once we’re done with them.” My face flushed and I pressed my hands to his chest.

“God, you’re such a pervert.”

“Mhm, you like it though.”

“Will you two stop! My vision isn’t coming back anytime soon.” We reluctantly broke apart. Wade slipped into the bedroom. I was only able to catch a brief glimpse of Logan’s back arched, heels dug deep into the mattress, before my sight was cut off. I grabbed my discarded jeans and stuffed them into the tote bag I had brought with me. The last bit of my shift ended in mostly silence, minus the occasional creak of the bed frame from the guy’s bedroom. I helped Al sign a few checks, read through her mail, and took out Mary Puppins. I said my good night and left the apartment. My mind conjured up thoughts on what could be happening behind that closed door all the way home on the train. Wade, clad only in my stolen underwear, bouncing on Logan. My panties stuffed into Logan’s mouth as Wade pounds him from behind. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop my imagination from getting too wild. It wouldn’t help anything to get turned on now.

If my mind hadn’t been so filled with dirty thoughts, I would have noticed the man watching me from the other end of the train car.

I made it to my apartment. The key fob scanner was broken again. “Advanced security my ass,” I groaned, trudging up to my apartment. It was Friday and I felt like ordering something in. I knew I shouldn’t, the delivery fees were astronomical, but I just wanted to relax. After placing my pizza order, I grabbed a fresh pair of underwear and a shirt stolen from Logan by Wade, then gifted to me. It always felt illegal to wear it, but it was easily the softest shirt I had. His scent lingered on it and it always soothed me. I had around an hour before my pizza was going to arrive. I made a little nest for myself on the couch and tucked in to watch some mindless reality tv.

A knock woke me up. At first I was confused, rubbing at my eyes and looking around to locate the sound. Then my mind caught up. “Oh shit,” I mumbled, scrambling to the door as the poor delivery guy knocked again. “Sorry! Sorry!” I called. I unlocked the door and swung it open.

I froze.

A man, with no pizza box, stood before me. “Um, can I help you?” The man had ice chips for eyes, cold and lifeless. A tattoo peaked above his collar. He took me in, tracing each inch of me. I felt my skin break out in goosebumps at the cold calculation on his face. My arms curled over my chest, hiding it from him. “Can I help you?” My tone was stronger, a small snap to it. That horrible gaze found mine again. Then he said my full name. Fear oozed through me.

I heard something from my bedroom, a little thump, but was too terrified to look away from the man in front of me. “Get the fuck out of here,” but the words lacked conviction, a slight tremble to them. “I don’t know who you are. Leave or I’m calling the cops.”

“Why wouldn’t you call your boyfriends?” My heart stuttered in my chest.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” I heard the creak of my floorboard. I cast a wild glance behind me and found a wall of a man emerging from my bedroom. I went to scream but the man at my door latched his hand around my mouth. I kicked and thrashed, biting wildly. He didn’t react. There was a pinch in my neck.

My elbows tried to find his face, but he was able to easily deflect them. The man in my apartment was searching for something. My eyes were blurring, limbs turned to lead. I saw him hold my phone up.

Then I slumped to the ground.

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carmenized-onions · 5 months ago

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Something to Do. | Catering

logline; Itinerary for your trip to New York? Just try not to fucking cry.

[!!!] series history, this is the twelfth; gonna start season three after I post this. Wonder how bad it's gonna throw off the rest of my plot line. Ideally not at all. We'll see.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. I really like this playlist for all chapters, but for a wedding where music is blasting, it feels particularly fitting.

portion; 13.3k how does this keep happening.

possible allergies; Terrible self-image, everything feels bad, very real conversations abt ,,, self-death and addiction.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (gets referred to as a woman and other feminine honourifics but no pronouns, i believe)

i made you all so mad last chapter. Let's see if i can make it up to you, babydoll (probably wont)

You hate to admit it, but you were kind of relieved when you found out Carmen wasn’t coming on the plane. You’re in a bit of a state of fight or flight; well, more accurately, currently leaning towards the flight side— Pun intended.

He’s coming to the wedding. You know he is. For one, he’s getting thirty grand for this, he has to. For two, his location is still on for you— Whether he forgot to turn it off or just didn’t care, you’re not sure. But he hates you, so there’s no way it was intentional, you’re certain about that much.

You know you shouldn’t be looking at it, but you have. You’ve been looking all week. Checking your Find my Friends like a doting mother. He goes to work far too early, he stays far after close, he goes home. Rinse and repeat.

You check on him one last time before boarding the plane. He’s opted to drive, with Richie. Something about ‘wanting to bring their personal equipment’, Richie texted you. They’re halfway through Ohio. You’re sure that road trip is definitely going spectacular after their side of the explosion.

Richie texted the day after that fucking fiasco, asking if you’d want updates on how it’s going at The Bear. How it’s going with Carmen. You said you wanted to know if he wanted to tell. He opted not to tell.

You hate to admit, you were kind of relieved, to not know. To just look at Carmen’s little icon go from Point A to B. Instead of Carmen Reports, you and Richie text about much lighter things. Normal things. Eva drew a funny picture of you kinda things. It’s nice. You know you’re probably being childish, but it feels so much fucking better to ignore the Bear in the room. You don’t know how to feel about anything, and frankly you don’t want to try to figure it out.

You suck, Carmen sucks, what more is there to know? Process it? Fuck that.

Carmen hasn’t texted you; you haven’t texted him, the entire week. Radio silence. You stopped playing Connections. Didn’t see a point. Not like they even have a streak function anyways— You’d die before you let that Wordle streak break, though. That was your thing. Carmen doesn’t get to take your things, too.

You didn’t get a text from the Exec, either. So that’s… Something? Or, rather, explicitly, that’s nothing. Does that mean Carmen gives a shit? Not necessarily. Ugh. Your whole system was so shocked after that fucking fight that you didn’t really have time to take in the fact that that jag was into you? Vomit inducing. You’ve got to rethink your life choices, if they lead you to him.

But also, you know if Carmen and you were okay right now, you probably would’ve given him your number. You would’ve catfished him for weeks, laughing over your phone with Carmen and Syd as this idiot falls into your trap. You miss Carmen. You also don’t miss Carmen. You want to see him desperately and also never fucking look at him again.

Carmen’s going to be in the kitchen; you’re going to be out in the banquet hall, on bar, this whole wedding. The likelihood either of you have to actually interact this weekend is quite low. The likelihood either of you have to confront what you’re supposed to do with yourselves now is quite low. You hate to admit it, you’re fucking relieved.

Sydney sleeps on your shoulder, for most of the plane ride. You sleep against her head. Shout out Marcus, for switching seats. He’s behind you, with Tina. He wakes both of you up about an hour in, shaking your seats— Because the dessert cart came out and he didn’t want either of you to miss it. The mini cheesecakes are better than expected, to be fair, so he’s forgiven.

This is going to be the stupidest weekend of your life. You’ll take that, over worst, at least.

“Be honest, would you tip me extra well?”

You give a twirl in your probably too fancy semi-cultural outfit. Your family shows up for weddings, if Vinnie and Mira didn’t want their bartender to go hard, they should’ve put that in their notes. It actually would have been nice to get sent notes, though… What is the theme for this wedding other than ‘Italian’ and ‘New York’…? Glitter eyeshadow is probably fine, right? Yeah it’s fine. Not like you could get that shit off now, anyways.

“If you were my bartender, I would ask ‘what are we?’” Answers Syd, watching you from the bathroom as she attempts to put her hair up. Definitely struggling in silence.

Sharing a hotel room was the best idea you ever had. It would be a nightmare to get ready alone in silence, right now. It’s nice to talk and have something to do. If you didn’t, you’d absolutely be ruminating about Carmen, debating whether or not to check on his room, that’s just down the hall, you could see if he needed help with getting ready and also see if he’s as tired as you think he is and— Plus, the amount you saved on splitting a one bed? Christ. Economy is in shambles. So is your brain.

“You would not be brave enough to ask your bartender ‘what are we?’”

“For you, I would.”

“Are we about to kiss, bro?” You duck into the bathroom, getting way too close to the side of Syd’s face. She laughs, pushing you away with the palm of her hand, you scoff, “Wooowwww—”

You clutch your heart, mortally wounded. Retching, truly. Now this is heartbreak in its rawest form. “—Reject me, why don’t you?”

“I’m playing the role of timid—” “I’m sick of this friends to lovers plot line!” “It adds! It adds!”

“Shut up— And tilt your head back, dumbass, what are you doing?” You stand behind her, taking her braids into your hands as she struggles to bundle them all herself.

“I do this all the time by myself, y’know.” So Syd says, but she lets you take her braids regardless.

“Yeah, but I’m here.” You stretch the hairband on your fingers. “Messy bun?”

“You think?”

“I think primal is too clean.”

“No, I was gonna do the one where it does like— Like the infinity in the front?”

“Who’s mom are you tryna fuckin’ look like?”

She kisses her teeth, attempting to reach a hand behind her head to smack you. You dodge and somehow manage to make it easier to smack you. “I’m literally only gonna get to come out after everyone’s left, I dunno why we’re making effort here—”

“High messy bun?” “High messy bun.”

Oh, the days of doing each other’s hair. You’re glad it’s back. You’re glad you get to become, together, again. It used to be bobbles, friendship bracelets, and glitter tattoos—but now it’s tying up each other’s hair, helping with the curling iron, clasping the gold chains on your neck, zipping up the back of your outfit, pinning the collar pins on her uniform, fixing makeup, asking each other to compare perfumes before going through with the final decision, mocking each other’s purchases.

“Wait, what mini deodorant did you get at customs?”

“Oh, one of those Native ones— I think it’s peach—?”

“Those cost like five fucking dollars, Ink. For like two swipes.”

“Excuse me for wanting to smell good, fuckin’ ‘wolfthorn’—”

“I work in a restaurant. I need Old Spice strength, okay—!”

“Oh, pbbbttt— Syd.”

“Pbb—Fuck, how do you do that?”

There’s a knock at the door, interrupting your squabble. “Are you decent?!”

Sydney groans, “No!”

“Yes, Rich, we’re decent, doors open.”

Richie comes in, unceremoniously. A touch awkward. He’s so rarely been in a room with women getting ready. It’s simultaneously exactly what he expected, and not at all what he expected. “Chip, can you put these fuckin’ things on f’me?”

Cufflinks. He presents the box to you. They’re just plain and silver, boring. Save that in your rolodex of gifts to get this Christmas. “You’re fuckin’ forty and you don’t know how to put on some cufflinks—?”

You’re nagging, but you’re already putting them on him, he holds his wrist out for you. “Nah, I was too busy runnin’ shit to learn.”

“Runnin’ your mouth, more like.”

“Yeah, yeah.” It’s a quiet moment, a tender moment, of adjusting his sleeves. Sydney’s scrambling to clean up the room around you two in the background. It’s hard to turn off the autopilot of cleaning one’s station, no matter where she goes.

You purse your lips. You shouldn’t ask and you shouldn’t care, but you do. You half-whisper, to Richie. “How was the drive?” He knows what you’re asking.

“Terrible start. Surprisingly okay middle. He went straight to the banquet hall once we got here.” He swallows, treading carefully, a thing Richie never does. “Do you wanna know the dirty details?”

Oh good, you wouldn’t be able to check on his room even if you wanted to. You want to. Need to? Stop thinking. Carmen sucks and you suck.

“Not particularly.” You take one final look at his sleeves, happy with your handiwork, letting his wrists go. “You feel settled, though? Or jury’s still out?”

Richie shrugs, tilting his head back and forth. “Grovelled decent enough, by time we hit Penn. But I’m waitin’ on my informer.”

You cringe, knowing what he means. You also know he’d smack you if you said he doesn’t need your say in order to forgive Carmen. “It’s gonna be a minute, until your informer has an answer.”

“I know.” He nods, twisting his wrists back and forth, looking at the cufflinks. Then he gives you a once over. “Y’look good.”

“You too.” You look over him, he does look good. He’s in his suit, wearing his wedding ring, which makes your heart hurt a little bit, but he does look good. “What’s your fuckin’ job tonight, by the way?” He can’t be doing kitchen. He sucks at kitchen. But he’s also just not dressed for it.

“Fuckin’ everything.” Hyperbolic? Typically yes, with Richie, but not this time.

“Wait staff here had too high a fee—”

“Translation: more than free?”

“More than free, yeah.”

“Heard.”

“So, I’m server, set up, and fuckin’ whore-derve—”

“What?” That pronunciation snaps Sydney out of her autopilot clean, her back snaps up straight. Hands on her hips, like a disappointed teacher. “It’s hors d’oeuvres.”

Richie rolls his eyes and really his whole head back. “Just because you went to the fuckin’ CIA or whatever the fuck—”

You interrupt the fight before it can start. “Let’s just say appetizers.”

Sydney does not let you. “Apps and hors d’oeuvres are different.”

You angle your body from Richie to her, deadpanning. “Just because you went to the fuckin’ FBI or whatever the fuck—”

“Alright!” She’s already walking to the door, despite the fact that she started it— “We’ve gotta fuckin’ get to hall now or we’re gonna have like zero prep time, Chefs.”

You both follow after her, doing one last check to make sure you’ve got everything you need. You honestly don’t need to be in this much of a rush, you’re pretty sure, but you don’t mention that. Richie said Carmen just went straight to the banquet hall, when they came in this morning. You’re not sure how well you know him anymore, all things considered, but by your best guess, he’s almost certainly done all the prep by himself.

Carmen did not do the kitchen prep entirely himself. Well. He might’ve, you haven’t checked, but you don’t think he would’ve had the time.

Carmen did your prep entirely himself.

When you get to the bar, in the banquet hall, you have nothing to do. Side work finished for you. Lemons, limes, oranges— All cut into wedges and loaded in their baskets— even the cherries are pitted. The glasses are organized from wine to whiskey glasses, the sink is clean— Which you know the banquet hall staff didn’t do— They never fucking do.

You don’t see Carmen, but you know he did it. He showed up before anyone else, he was in the kitchen before anyone else— So no one else could’ve left the simple braised beef sandwich on your station. Exactly how Mikey used to make it. Half hot, half sweet. Your order at The Beef. Carmen would’ve done pork, but this is what they had on hand, and he had a feeling this would mean more, anyways. It does. Granola bar on the plate with it. One of the nice ones, too. The wrapping boasts fifteen grams of protein.

He knows how hard running bar is. He knows you won’t have time to eat once it starts. So, he’s making sure you get something down now— And that you have time to eat it in peace, and making sure you have something you can scarf mid-shift later, when you don’t have time.

Fucking. Hell. Fuck this fucking guy. Carmen fucking sucks. You fucking suck. This all fucking sucks so much. This sandwich is so fucking good. You’re so fucking mad. Stop saying fuck. Fuck your subconscious for wanting you to stop saying fuck. It’s so unfair, for him to be maybe the cruelest a person could possibly be, in front of an audience made out of your loved ones, and then be sweet, like this.

He is awful, with words— Well, he’s typically better, with you, par for the last time, but he’s best in the kitchen. You can taste the sorrow, the guilt, the apology. The first thing he ever made you, was a sandwich, the brisket sandwich, that Mikey refined for you, as an apology, for freaking the fuck out in a freezer and having that be your first impression of him— Or, at least, first first-hand impression of him. How far you’ve come.

This will not pass, as an apology. Not a proper one. But… You’ll give him a sign, in return, at least. A confirmation that you got the message, nothing more. Definitely nothing more.

“Rich.” You stop the guy in his tracks, as he marches through the room, helping the rest of the staff set up the hall. Not his job, but it’s Richie. “Can you ask kitchen their shifties?”

He nods, like he understands, walking away with stacks of chairs under both his arms.

He comes back after two minutes, straight up to your bar. “What the fuck is a shifty?”

“Oh.” You feel condescending, for being surprised. You’d never really thought about the huge difference between morning servers and night servers until right now. Richie has never worked with a bar staff. He worked at a fucking sandwich shop. “It’s uh— Your drink. Get a drink on your shift— Shifty— It can be like, a cocktail, a straight, a shot, coffee—”

“I know how many fucking drinks exist, Chip—” “Mocktail, smoothie, juice—” “Yeah, I’ll get a Pina Colada.” “I will break the blender over your head.” “I’ll get you a list.”

You nod, already starting on usuals you know will have remained unchanged since your absence. Steel trap memory. Getting drinks with The Beef staff used to be the highlight of your week, which isn’t a sad statement at all. “I won’t tell anyone you like Dirty Shirleys.”

He defends. “Eva put me on them.”

“Insane thing to say about your five-year-old.”

“You know what I meant— She likes the normal—” “I’m pokin’ fun, go give this to Carmen.”

You’re hoping if you say it fast, coupled with bickering, Richie won’t make mental note of it. Won’t register it. Of course, he still does. How could he not? You slide the mug to him; he takes it, though, slow, with a perplexed look.

Yeah. They had lavender and maple syrup behind the bar. And cardamom. And milk to froth. And black coffee. Whatever. You didn’t have any dried lavender to top it with, this time, so it’s not actually that cool, anyways. Doesn’t make it special. Did you do a maple syrup drizzle to make up for this? Yeah. You hate yourself just a little bit, for it. You really cannot shut off the way you love, can you? Hopeless. Be even the slightest bit withholding, would you? Just a touch petty? God, you suck. Such a princess.

Rich shrugs, when you don’t try to justify yourself. You’re an adult, he won’t coerce you to be sharper, even if you should be. “Aye aye, Chippy.”

If Carmen ends up wanting to drink later, then he’ll have to come to you. That’s being tough, right? Sure. That’s definitely withholding, Chip. Really showed Carmen there. Certainly, a church woman must be clutching her pearls at your backbone, somewhere in the world.

Do you think you’d be able to handle him coming to your bar, anyways?

No. Decidedly no. Which is a bit stupid, because you’ve faced much scarier things in your life, than some asshole you owe two grand. Well, some asshole you owe two grand that you love deeply that hates you deeply because you are in some part responsible for not taking care of his brother—

Carmen doing your side work was unintentionally cruel, honestly. You don’t have anywhere for your brain to go but him. Don’t have anyone to talk to, or anything to do. Richie can tell and whether you want him to or not; he knows what you need. He repeats himself, walking off with the mug. “I’ll get you your list.”

He knows what you need. Something to do. Something to fix, for someone. Not fix someone. People’s princess. Still failed Mikey, no matter how hard you tried.

Sprite, grenadine, vodka, lime, maraschino cherries. Dirty Shirley. Something to do. Just focus on something to do.

You miss the naivety of wanting something to do. Three hundred guests versus one bartender without a barback is a layer of hell that Dante forgot to specify in his Inferno.

“What can I fix for you, ma’am?!” You’ve got to yell every sentence to get anything intelligible over the music and the cacophony of conversations.

There is an overlap of voices from every single woman crowding around your bar, despite the fact that you were definitely making explicit eye-contact with just one of them. You lean over the counter to hear her alone. She blinks, when you get in her face.

“What are we?”

You cannot stop the snort, but you’re pretty sure she didn’t hear it, music's too loud to hear anything. Syd’s a fucking oracle. “We’re fucked. What can I get for you?”

“Lemon drop shot?” Of course. It’s New York.

“Comin’ right up—”

The crowd of women interrupt you, and each other. “Oh, make that two!” “Make that three!” “Wait what are we making?”

Who the fuck is we? They’re more than welcome to get behind the bar with you. You’d take anyone, at this point.

“Lemon drops, babe!” “Oh—Oh, we doin’ lemon drops?” “Let’s just say ten and be safe!”

Of course.

It’s a lot of that, on repeat. But it’s better than the ones that want one very specific brand of scotch with their soda, because at least you can make huge batches for these ones— Does no one know how to fucking act around an open bar anymore? You get a vodka cran and you fuck off. You really need to start telling people you don’t know how to make bellinis.

Working alone is hard, because you can tell when you turn your back to make drinks, and aren’t able to take twenty more orders at the same time, that everyone’s real fucking annoyed with you. You have tried splitting your cells to become a second person, didn’t work. You’re constantly spinning around to accommodate people, and it’s getting fucking nauseating. And you’re usually patient, but the questions are getting just as mind-numbing.

“Can I get a uh… A negroni… Sbagliato? With prosecco?” “Sbagliato means prosecco is in it, sweetheart.”

“Do you do hurricane shots?” “I’m happy to slap you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, so it’s open bar?” “Yeah.” “So, I don’t have to tip, either?” “Well— It’s appreciated— Oh, and you’ve already walked away. Okay.”

It’s a lot of that, on repeat.

You see from twenty feet away, amidst the crowds, Uncle Jimmy walking towards your bar, and when he waves all friendly, he sees your glower, and opts to turn in the other direction. Smart man. No wonder he’s successful.

Richie swings by your bar, waiting at the corner, where the line hasn’t congregated. You don’t need to be shaking this martini for as long as you are, but it’s a good way to look like you’re working when you’re just trying to talk to Richie. He presents his serving tray to you. “Tiny quiche?”

You open your mouth, hands full with your shaker. He gets the point, stabbing a toothpick into the appetizer and shoving it in your mouth. Oh God, food is beautiful. Food is what sustains. You could write a full book of poetry right now about why food is everything. Well, not everything. You’re still in hell.

“Richie, I’m dying, your job can’t be that important, come be barback.” You pour out the martini. You attempt to open the jar of olives by yourself, when you struggle, Richie puts his tray down and grabs the jar from you.

Thankfully for your pride, he’s also struggling with it. Plus, it gives you time to annihilate the tray of quiches. He shakes his head, his job is important, allegedly. “You want me to starve guests?”

“Ideally? Yes.” You ignore the dirty looks you get from eavesdropping patrons. He hands you the opened jar. You take a toothpick from his tray, since you’re already out of yours, pierce an olive, toss it in the martini, and pass it to someone— Quite frankly, there’s every chance that’s not the guy that ordered the dirty martini, but he takes it, so who gives a fuck.

Richie sighs, he does want to help. “I’ll ask kitchen if they can cut someone.”

Thank fucking God. “Ask Marcus, he’s got mixology experience or some shit.” You remember being occasionally impressed by his verbiage— At the very least, he knows what stuff is back here, and that’s enough for you.

Richie just shakes his head, lips in a line, when you mention Marcus. A universal sign that something has gone horrifically wrong. You furrow your brows, immediately worried, leaning forward. “What happened?”

“Excuse me! What’s it take to get a long-island iced tea around here? This open bar is not very open!”

You and Richie both grimace, at the thick Jersey accent on this woman waving her hand hysterically at your bar. He gives you a nod, already taking his empty tray and starting to walk back to the kitchen. “I’ll ask.”

You turn your body to the woman, but head still to Richie. “Don’t ask. Tell.”

Not even five minutes pass, before you get a barrage of texts, from multiple people, all at once. You watch them flood in on the notification screen of your phone laying on the counter, while shaking up a cosmo, this time.

From Marcus, worrying. ‘sorrysorysorrybakkingemergencymbmmbmb’

From Syd, concerning. ‘couldn’t stop him lmk if it’s bad’

From Richie, alarming. ‘yk how to call your dog right’

But it all makes sense, when Carmen comes up to your bar, removing his apron. “You need a barback?”

Hair is normal. Not at its best, not how you taught him, but it’s better than before. He smells excessively like you; like accidentally used half the bottle levels like you. Maybe not an accident. Don’t read into it, too much— They’re almost certainly the only travel sized bottles he had on hand. Of course he’d take them. He smells like Old Spice, too, though. Don’t read into it. He looks tired. You knew he would. You’ve watched his location, every day. By the time you go to bed each night, he’s only just left The Bear. He deserves to feel tired, he was a fucking asshole, and you’re glad your cat ate just short of all of his flowers.

But you brought in the plate, the next morning. You cleaned it, and then hid it in the back of your dishwasher. You wanted it to be safe, you also just didn’t want to look at it or think about it or have it exist in your mind, at all. That’s half the reason you couldn’t let it perch outside your window anymore. Taunting you. He’s a piece of shit, but you can feel it in your chest; the care you cannot get rid of. The desire to ask are you okay? Have you been sleeping? How are you? How’s your week been? Want a hug? Have you been playing Connections? What did I do wrong? Did you need me? Did anything break? Did you break?

You missed him. Was the radio silence relieving? Yes. Preferably, you’d never acknowledge each other for the rest of your lives besides an eventual wire transfer. Preferably, he’d stay in the back of your dishwasher for the rest of your life. But God, you missed him, this week. You’ll probably miss him for the rest of your life. Is that toxic? You’re working on it. No you’re not… He just made every space easier to breathe in, kept a light on, for you. Not at the end, but he did before. Before he figured out that he hates you.

It’s a thing that everyone says about you, that you bring ease, and whether you can confirm or deny that, who’s to say— But you know Carmen does it for you. Lights up a room for you. And you might be alone in that feeling, but that’s okay with you. Or it was. It was, before he figured out he should hate you.

Oh, shit, you’ve been staring at him in silence for way too long. It’s hard to know how to navigate this. You don’t know how to feel, so you don’t know how to act either. It’s all a weird state of limbo that you desperately want to get out of, but don’t want to do any of the work required to do so. What do you do with your hands? Your body? Your voice? Are you supposed to be funny and nice still? Christ, just say something. What’d he ask, again? Can’t remember.

“Uh…” Still can’t remember, but— “What’s happening with Marcus?”

He seems to falter, slightly, but he comes into your bar, oh right, barback. You needed a barback. He exchanges his kitchen apron for a bar apron. Not used to seeing him wear all black. You wish you could enjoy it. Wish you could say it’s cool watching him act as one of your professions. He answers, as he ties the strings around his waist. “Uber dropped their wedding cake.”

Fuck whatever tension you two have. You nearly fold over in shock. The current track on the speakers fades out, right as you yell back, “They dropped their fucking wedd—!?”

With haste, Carmen puts the palm of his hand over your mouth. Knife tattoo hand. Oh, he missed being this close to you. Not the point here, though. “Shhhhhhh…!”

You relax, he removes his hand, you’re annoyed that you wish he didn’t. You whisper, though it’s still screeching in tone. “They dropped their fucking wedding cake?”

He nods, combing his hair back with his hand. Knife tattoo hand. It’s making your shampoo waft. You both notice it. He stops. “Marcus is remaking one, now.”

“From scratch?” You were right to be so worried; Richie was right to make the face he did. Carmen tilts his head back and forth. “Box mix that he’s finessing—”

You finish the sentence with him, “—Because he’s Marcus.” The king of doing too much, especially when there’s no time for it. It’s his best and worst trait.

He nods, smiling just slightly, but not the typical smile you get from him. Timid. “Yeah, so he’s locked in, but I’m here.”

Simple sentence, but it still schisms your brain. You cannot help but feel a distrust of it. “Shouldn’t you be running the back, though?” Keeping his kitchen in order? Being the Exec in his head?

He shakes his head. “They run a tight ship without me just fine.” The first lesson you gave to him, that that’s a good thing. Is this conversation hitting specific pain points on purpose as a punishment from God or is this just how all your conversations are going to feel, from now on?

Probably both. You nod. “Okay.” You do need a barback.

“This is so cute, girl, and I love love but I’m gonna need that Cosmo like yesterday.” Why did this woman have to say love? That would already be terrible if you were good right now. Carmen’s probably not the type of guy to say the L word for like several months anyways. You’re not even dating anyways— Or weren’t? Can you use past-tense on something that never was?

You hand her the Cosmo, and you both pretend you never heard her.

Running bar with Carmen makes your life infinitely easier, though albeit tenser. He hasn’t done this before, but he’s watched previous bar staff from the sidelines— And one of his best traits is how quick he catches on to things. He’s not confident enough to mix drinks, but everything else, he does just fine.

“Behind.” There’re occasional autopilot moments that make you laugh, though. He snaps back into his body, when you do, moving next to you. He tilts his head, “What, you don’t say behind?”

You shrug, and it feels normal, for a second. “Professionals probably do, I’ve never worked in a place that does, though.”

“But what about when you’re holdin’ shit?” You allow yourself to feel normal, for a second. It is a delight to teach him something about your work. You continue to make drinks and hand off orders, all while you both speak. It reminds you of the domestic flow you were both so used to doing. That was so easy for you both to fall into. It’s nice that it somehow hasn’t gone away.

“So, you know when you’re in the kitchen, or here, behind bar, you get like, really fucking hot?” Don’t let that entendre stay doubled— “Like sweaty?”

“Mhm?”

You hold onto your chilled shaker, stepping behind him, “So, we don’t say behind, we—” and press it just under the back of his neck. He shivers, immediately, full shock running through his system. “Do that.”

“Christ!”

You want to enjoy the moment, but you can’t help but remember him calling you a modern-day saviour. You try to push it down, but the warmth you were starting to feel tones down, quite a bit. You manage to keep him from noticing, manage to keep the smile on. “What, don’t like it? It’s nice!”

“Think it’s a safety concern, f’sure.”

“Call OSHA.” You touch the shaker to his face, before going to pour it. He laughs. Actually laughs. You wish that made you feel good, still. And somewhere, in some corner of yourself, it still does. But not like it did before.

Soon enough, you two get a second of reprieve, as Vinnie’s Best Man gets up to do his speech, or whatever. He uses a knife to clink his glass, and of course, it fucking shatters. You’re half-mad, because technically for the night, those are your glasses, but it’s too funny to actually give a shit. Plus, the Best Man gets a pass tonight, in your book, because one, he understood protocol and got a vodka cran from you, and two, his speech is forcing everyone to sit down and leave y’all the fuck alone.

“Beautiful night, beautiful couple, beautiful people— Couldn’t ask for a better weddin’ for my best friend— But let’s be honest, I didn’t think he’d be gettin’ a wedding at all— Aye! This guy Vin, amirite?”

You take this moment to halve your protein bar from Carmen. You wordlessly hand the other half to him. He shakes his head. “M’Good, you eat.”

You shove it towards him. You know he hasn’t eaten much, you don’t know how, but you just know. “I’ve eaten twelve tiny quiches and a beef sandwich, Carm, take the fuckin’ granola.”

He breathes heavily through his nose, but he takes it. You both watch the Best Man, quietly eating your halves. He is silently overjoyed at the verbal confirmation you ate the sandwich.

“I don’t need to introduce my goddamn self, I’m sure my reputation precedes me, right? But I’m Leo, I’m my boy’s Best Man, and I just couldn’t be more honoured, y’know? We grew up together, playin’ stickball in the Bronx, and now this guy’s marryin’ one of the most wonderful women in the world? And I get to be here? Man, I love ya.”

As cranky as you’ve been all night, this really is a gorgeous wedding. More often than not, the guests are nice, it’s just that the shit ones stick out in your head like nails to be hammered. Vinnie and Mira seem like a good couple. You wonder if you’ll ever get to have a wedding like this. They commissioned one of those painters to do a live painting, too. Always wanted one of those. And they’ve got little gift bags for the guests. You’re taking notes, internally, of what you like here, what you’d want to do for your own.

You wish you and Carmen were talking, right now. Despite the fact that Leo’s voice is booming throughout the hall’s speakers, the silence between you feels deafening, because you both know that you would be talking right now, if you weren’t living in fucking limbo. You need to work. You need something to do. The ice basket is running low, refilling it will take at least two minutes and maybe holding the ice will shock your nervous system.

You grab a bag of ice from the freezer behind you both, Carmen pretends to be listening to the speech, because he doesn’t feel like he has the right to help you with the weight. You cut the bag, emptying huge chunks of ice into the basket. You ball up the plastic in your hands to throw out; you nod to Carmen. “Can you break the ice?”

He seems surprised, taking a second, before nodding, crossing and uncrossing his arms. “I owe you an apology—”

“Oh, no!” You hastily correct. “No— Yes but no— I— I meant—” You hand him the metal scooper, nodding to the clumped-up ice you just poured out. “I meant can you break the literal ice blocks?”

Carmen wishes he has dead. And you can both tell that. “Yes. Yes— Yeah, f’sure, one-hundred— Course. Heard.” You nod back, pensive, throwing the plastic bag out, staring straight ahead, trying to refocus on Leo again. You can’t.

Carmen beats the ice, softly, so as to not make a noticeable noise for the audience. After a few seconds, he returns to his point. “…I do owe you an apology, though—”

“Don’t even worry about it, Carmen.” You don’t say this. Fak does. He sidles up to the bar. Where he keeps apparating from and hearing your conversations, you’re really not sure. “I’ve got this one.”

Neither you or Carmen know what Fak thinks he’s got, here, but you’re both too intrigued or surprised to stop him. Well, Carmen does give it a fair shot, after a second, “Fak, I’m—”

“Nono—” But there’s simply no chance. “I appreciate you trying to fix my problems for me, but y’know, I can handle myself, Carmen.” …You wish that’s what Carmen said, last Friday, instead of calling himself your charity tax write-off.

Fak pivots to you, sighing, shrugging, hands up, as if you know as well as he does what the fuck he’s about to say. You can’t tell if you’re supposed to be scared right now or not. When you don’t say anything, he starts, “Alright, I guess I’m the one that's brave enough to say it, there’s some major tension here.”

Now why does Fak think he’s the one to acknowledge this. Quite frankly, why is Fak here? Is he working, too? On what exactly? You don’t remember seeing him on the plane, either. Was he a part of the road trip? Dear God, that's a nightmare third wheel. You just let out a, “Huh?”

“Oh, come on, you haven’t shown up at The Bear since last Friday—” You’re now remembering that before the fight of all fights broke out that night, Fak ran out of the kitchen. Guess no one filled him in, after. “And like, this week, when something broke—” He nods to Carmen, who grimaces, hand over his face. “Carmy told me to fix it, instead of calling you, like he’d usually.”

You know you’re not allowed to be upset about that, and yet, you really fucking are. You’re Carmen’s fucking fixer. Or were? Fuck. Christ, are you jealous of Fak now? You turn your gaze just slightly to Carmen, who’s leaning over the counter, propping his head up on his hands. “What broke?”

He answers briefly. “Expo clock.”

It was extremely apt and even more upsetting for him, the way time literally stopped, when you left. When he made you leave.

You tuck your hands in your pockets, looking back to Fak. “You fix it?”

He shrugs. “Yeah.” Carmen stands back up, opening his mouth to intercept, Fak puts a hand in front of his face. “No Carm, I’ve gotta tell her the truth…” What.

“Tony…” Neil sighs, unable to make eye contact, at this moment. “I was really harsh on you, that Friday…”

“…Huh?” The fucking degree thing? Is that what he’s talking about? You honestly can’t remember anything before Carmen, from that night.

“You don’t need to hide your pain.” He nods solemnly, “I— I’m just gonna say it… I know it’s hard to believe, but I was… jealous.”

“I know.”

He ignores that you’ve said this entirely, “I know, I know, it’s crazy. Me? Jealous? But yeah, I was really good at hiding it, but you’re just really like smart, Tony, y’know? And everyone was like— Tony can fix this— Tony can fix that— And I was holding it together, but then you were good at serving, too. And it got to me— And obviously Carmen could tell, so he stopped calling you. Trying to be a true bro.”

Oh, Fak really doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, huh? “Of course there’s like, the other obvious tension in the room—” Oh okay, so he does know— “Between us.” What.

“What’s up?” You blink, voice going high for a second. Carmen cannot stop staring at Fak, face entirely unmoving, unblinking. Neither of you are sure what emotion to feel right now. Is Leo’s speech still fucking going? You’ve completely tuned it out, if it is.

Fak gestures to the air between you two. “Well like, there’s obviously a really intense sort of rivals to romance dynamic happening here…”

What.

“And like,” He raises his hands, in defense— Of what exactly? You couldn’t be less sure. “I could totally see that happening, in the future.”

It takes everything in you, to just hold your lips closed together. You have to bite down on your top lip, to not scream laugh in his face. “For sure, man.”

He nods, continuing, “But right now, I just don’t think I’m ready to take what you’re giving, y’know?” Holy shit, wait, is that how Carmen feels? Is that what the fuck is going on in his head? “Just not ready for all—” He gestures to you in general. “This.”

“Little harsh.” You tilt your head. “Fuckin’ cool it, Fak.” Carmen barks, in tandem with you. Oh, he’s upset. He wasn’t set on his emotions, this entire time, but he seems to have now settled in the upset category.

“Right.” Fak nods. “And so, I’m sorry I can’t be that for you… And I know it’s gonna take time to recover, but please come back to The Bear, when you’re ready. You’re… You’re a better repairman than me. We need you.”

You put a hand over your mouth, to cover your shit eating grin, trying your best to compose yourself and look sad. The best way out of this is to just agree with him. It’d take far too much energy to clarify everything for Fak. You’re nodding too much. “…Yeah, y’know, Fak… I will consider that. All those words you said? I’m gonna… Gonna really take all of it to heart, dude. I really appreciate… The directness— Y’know, that takes… Strength, man.”

“Thank you.” He nods. “Still friends?”

You did not realize you were even friends to start. And not in the insecure way, this time. You nod. “For sure, dude.”

You and Carmen both watch him walk away, in perplexed silence. Carm’s the first to break it. “…Was that anything—” “Obviously fucking not.”

He’s going to reply something witty in response, and it’s going to make you both feel like everything’s okay, again, but then he seems to see something that scares him straight. He turns to the back of the bar, aimlessly grabbing bottles, for no reason. Literally no reason, everyone sat for the speeches, what’s he doing—?

“You still serving?” Older man, oval glasses. He stands in front of your bar. Ah. Kinda rude of him, maybe that’s why Carmen’s giving the cold shoulder to this guy? Whatever. You'll serve him. Just because you're Chicago's Kindest doesn't mean everyone else has to be.

“Yessir, what can I fix for you?”

“Manhattan with bourbon?”

You salute, “Aye aye.” And get to mixing the drink. You’re pretty sure Carmen must know this guy, because he’s already set out the bourbon, vermouth, and angostura. It doesn’t take long to fix the drink.

When you go to hand it to the man, he seems to notice the mop of blond curls behind you. “Aye, Carmen? Jimmy told me you’d be workin’ tonight.”

A small, tentative, meek wave from Carmen. He sniffs. “Yeah. Hi, Uncle Lee.”

“Oh.” Is all you can say. Pulling the drink away from his hand, as Uncle Lee reaches for it. “You’re Uncle Lee?”

“My reputation precedes me?” He chuckles, nodding.

Carmen comes up beside you, and witnesses a smile from you that he’s never seen from you, and ideally hopes will never be directed at him. It’s the slowness of it, it’s a smile, but you’re doing it purely to bare your teeth.

“It sure does.” Give him a chance, it’s been four years, give him a chance. “I was a friend of Mikey’s.”

He fails the chance. “Ah… I see, friend, ya did a little—” He taps the side of his nose, sniffing. “Together?”

He really fucking fails the chance. Your smile grows, painfully so. The apples of your cheeks so high they practically close your eyes for you. You laugh a deeply fake laugh. “Hahaha, yeah, yeah, that’s exactly what we used to do. Uncle Lee.”

“Oh!” You tilt your wrist quickly, pouring the bourbon Manhattan in the bar sink. “Ah, fuck. Hand slipped.”

Lee is a bit taken aback. “Really—?”

“Really.” You repeat. Putting the glass down. “And y’know, I could remake that for you, but I dunno if you wanna trust my shaky junkie hands.”

Holy fuck. Carmen has always been great at keeping his reactions hidden, and still is, so Uncle Lee cannot tell how out of character this is, of you. You’re nice, you don’t bite— Or Carmy didn’t think you did, because of the amount of grace you gave him, last Friday.

“Lee, I’m gonna level with you.” You cross your arms, smile fading, but there’s still that venomous lilt in your voice. “I’ve been thinking for the last, I dunno, two years, what I’d say to you, if I had the displeasure of seeing you.”

There’s a pile of forks behind your bar, that you’d asked Richie for, just in case this situation came to a head. Just in case this fucking idiot came by. But it just doesn’t feel right, now. Doesn't feel right to leap over the counter and stab him in the neck with a fork. Though you've imagined it, and you still actively are.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod, looking around the venue. “But we’re at this beautiful wedding, and Vinnie and Mira don’t deserve to have their reception ruined by us causing a scene.” You gesture to the air between you, almost comical.

He shrugs, “Better than Mikey, in that regard, then.” You know what he’s referring to, despite not being there.

You nod, smiling real big now, really baring your teeth, now. “His fuckin’ house, Lee.”

“I could have your ass fired, y’know.” “So do it.”

You lean forward, elbows on the counter. “I’m not getting paid for this. Please, get me fired. Snitch to Uncle J, c’mon, fire me. I’m delighted to get cut. Do it.”

After what feels like eons of a silent stare down, Uncle Lee throws a fake punch. Carmen’s the only one that flinches, immediately rearing his own fist back, stopping short when Lee does.

You’re still just coy, elbows on the counter. Lee scoffs, “Cokehead.” Of course.

“Yessir.” You just lightly shake your head, standing up straight again, smiling, amused, delighted, even. “That’s me. That’s who I am.” It’s not, but there’s no point in arguing with him— Especially when you agreeing just seems to piss him off more.

You’ve given Lee nothing to work with, to insult you, so it takes him a moment to generate something. “You’re—”

You don’t let him get it out, putting a hand up for him to give it a rest. “Lee, I’m not startin’ a scene, it’s a gorgeous wedding.”

“Oh, how grown of you—” “But, if you wanna have a scene, just wait in the parking lot.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You really think—” “I do. I do think, Lee.”

You lean forward, again, shrugging, speaking nonchalant, speaking with your hands, casually. “I wanna make it so clear, for you, too. I’m not gonna crack my knuckles, not gonna make some empty threats, not gonna scream in your face— I’m not gonna tell you I’m gonna kill you or anything like that. Because obviously, I wouldn’t do that.”

You nod, slowly, methodically, clearly. “What I am gonna say, is that I have been a bartender on and off since I was twenty-one. I was an E-M-T, for three years— All in our beautiful city of Chicago, Illinois. The sheer volume of geriatric white guys I have had to pull to the concrete in a full nelson in both professions— Insurmountable, Lee. So again, to be, so fucking clear, Lee— If I see you outside, I’m taking you to the fucking pavement, and I’m not getting off.”

Uncle Lee’s got no comeback, for this, but he’d be dead in the ground before he just lets someone have the last word. This is why Uncle Jimmy is more successful. “Oh, I’m sure you fuckin’ would.”

You grin. God, those forks are tempting. Resist. You keep your hands busy by grabbing a maraschino cherry from it's jar behind your bar to snack on. “Enjoy your night, Lee.”

“You’re a real fuckin’ bi—” A fork flies over his shoulder, clattering behind him. Not from you, from Carmen.

He speaks for you. “Enjoy your night, Uncle Lee.”

It feels good to be backed. Carmen’s here, and he’s on your team. You tack on, waving goodbye to the fucker, “Back lot, Uncle Lee.”

Lee pivots his gaze to Carmen, he rolls his eyes, disappointed. “Alright, Donna.”

Carmen goes for another fork, you stop his hand, holding it there, for a second. The metal clatters behind the counter. Lee’s pleased enough with the provocation. Men like him don’t leave until they’ve won something in their heads. He leaves, on his way to the punch bowl, since he’s determined he’s not getting shit from the bar tonight. You and Carmen just watch him, like prey, making sure he leaves without looking back.

“You’ve got teeth.” Carmen’s first to speak, cleaning a glass, both of you looking straight ahead. You nod.

“I do.”

“You don’t bite much.”

You shrug. “Try not to.”

Carmen considers the fact that what he wants to say would mean sticking his foot in his mouth. He then considers the fact that nothing he could say now will ever be worse than what he said then. He keeps rubbing away at a perfectly shining glass.

“You didn’t bite me.”

“I didn’t.” You nod, and your body goes on autopilot, as you start making a drink no one’s ordered. Just need something to do. “I couldn’t.”

He doesn’t like that answer. “I deserved it.”

“I deserved it, too.” You’re not a big fan of your own answer, either. But you can’t say it’s not true. You deserved it. Just some failure leech trying to reattach yourself to people through merry good deeds, as if they’d add up to fucking anything—

“No, you didn’t.” He pivots to you, tone inarguable. He puts the glass down. It’s a lowball, you need a lowball, you grab it from him.

“Do you like cognac or vodka?” You ignore his words, but you look him in the eyes. You regret it.

He lets you get away with it, because he is absolutely not the one allowed to lead the conversation, here. He did enough bulldozing, before.

“I dunno, I don’t really drink much.” You squint, you’ve seen his apartment. He clarifies. “Other than wine n’ beer.”

You nod. You opt for cognac. He watches you, for a moment, before asking. “What’re you—”

You’re already finished, by this point, sliding the glass over to him. “Black lavender latte. Cognac n’ coffee liqueur. If it’s too strong, let me know, I can add more milk.”

“Thank you, Chef.” Is all he can think to say. He takes a sip. It’s far behind in his long list of regrets, but certainly one of them in the way he spoke to you, is that there’s a strong chance he will never have a mixologist as talented as you working at The Bear.

“Hmm.” You hum, not watching him drink it, because you won’t be able to handle either reaction— You won’t be able to handle disgust nor pleasure. You never want to look at Carmen again. He’s also all you want to see. This sucks. You suck. Carmen sucks.

“Thank you for the coffee earlier, too.” You’re overjoyed at the verbal confirmation he drank it.

“Figured you’d need one.”

“I did.” He thinks about it, and decides to take the bullet. “Needed yours.”

Your breath hitches, and he can’t tell whether or not that’s a good thing. He doesn’t get the chance to ask, as a meek and overly sweaty man comes up to your bar. There are bar stools at your counter, though they’ve been tucked far under it to keep the flow of traffic moving. But the man points down to the stool, silently asking. You nod.

“You can sit, sir.”

He’s delighted. He sits. “Sorry, I’m not gonna sit long, I just uh— Just—” He turns around pointing to the Maid of Honour, who’s just gotten on the hot mic for her speech. “I uhm, it’s— Usually the bar is empty, when uh, when people are talking.”

“That they are.” You nod, smile soft. “Can I get anything for you, or d’you just wanna sit? No shame in that.”

“I— I, uh, if it’s not a bother— I was just wonderin’ if uhm— Totally fine, if it’s— If it is— Do uhm, do you— Do you do mocktails?”

Carmen watches you grow ten times softer, in demeanor. It’s wonderful, how you’re able to flip on a dime. It’s wonderful what you’re willing to give to people, when they deserve it. You nod. “Yeah, sir. What’s your drink?”

“Oh— I— Anything’s fine, really.” He plays with the loose strings on the cuff of his left sleeve.

You tilt your head, recognizing his nervousness. “If it’s not too personal, sir, are you…” You debate the best way to say it. “Taking twelve steps?”

He looks scared, initially, to be caught; but then he looks at your face, and he knows he has nothing to be worried about. He nods. “One— Two months, two weeks, one day.”

“That’s huge.”

He shrugs. “It’s a start.”

“A start is huge.” You emphasize, and he nods, because that’s inarguable. “What was your drink before? I can make a mocktail of that— Or maybe you’d prefer somethin’ total opposite?”

“Oh! Yeah, I uh, I liked uh, old-fashioneds, but you can’t really make those without whiskey—”

“Yeah, you can.” You’re already grabbing your shaker. “You just use barley tea. I can do that— If you want that.”

He thinks on it, for a second. Debates whether nostalgia is good or not. “Yeah, yeah I’d like that.”

While you work on it, the guy feels enough confidence, bestowed by you, to tell you about himself. “I liked sitting. That was the thing I liked about drinking. The sitting and the talking and the feeling good about it.”

“I hear that.” You watch the tea steep, nodding. “Reason why the phrase is ‘takes the edge off’.”

Carmen has to turn around. He’s listening intently, but he has to turn around. Again, he’s pretty good at hiding his tells, but you’re pretty good at reading them. And you’d be able to tell his flat expression is the equivalent of being absolutely fucking bug eyed on anyone else. You’re a bartender. You were a paramedic. You have seen so many people, on their worst day— Seen so many people like this guy, like his brother. You have taken care of so many addicts.

The number of times he said loser or junkie to your face, and the way that that was what you always fought back on. It will not stop replaying, in Carmen’s head. The way you think that wasn’t okay, but the way he spoke about you was. It’s all just nauseating. You’re so good to everyone but you. You defend everyone but you. Carmen's almost furious about this, though he doesn't feel he has the right to be. You should've treated him like Uncle Lee. He acted exactly like Uncle Lee.

“It can make it easier, to be at the bar, for some people, I've found.” You continue, still making conversation with the man as you stir the steeped tea into the glass, over ice. “Makes you feel normal.” Forced sobriety is definitely in the top five, of the most ostracizing human experiences.

He nods, relieved to have someone. “Most people don’t get that.”

You nod, strain out the virgin old-fashioned, and push the glass to him across the counter. “Well, I get that.”

He takes a sip of the mocktail, it’s perfectly nostalgic in a way that doesn’t hurt. “Thank you.” He’s thanking you for a lot more than the drink.

“A pleasure.” You nod. He stands up, tucking the stool back under the counter, as the speeches end. It won’t be long until the bar is crowded again, and he knows it’ll be too much, for him or you. You add. “Good luck with month three. It's a heavy one.”

“If you work it and you’re worth it.” He recites the line incorrectly on purpose, it’s an important one, but you both still laugh at it. Like an inside joke, practically. You give one quick dap, he puts a twenty in your tip jar, and walks off, with less sweat, and more spring in his step, this time. Good.

When he walks away, before guests start to stand, there’s a lull of silence. You don’t need to look at Carmen to know he has a million different thoughts, and a million more follow ups.

“You have questions?”

“None of my business.” He sniffs, awkwardly. “Unless you want it to be.”

Why did he have to fucking say it like that. Why did he have to put the ball in your court. Carmen fucking sucks. Y’know what, no, turn it on his ass.

“Did you give the New York Exec my number?”

“No.” The reply is instant. He doesn’t get thrown by the topic change in the slightest. You were pretty sure you knew the answer, but the speed of it is still a little surprising. Like it wasn’t something that was ever up for debate.

“What’d you say to him, then?”

This is when he looks embarrassed, just slightly. This part was up for debate, seemingly. “We—”

“Everyone, please stay in your seats for just a moment, our wonderful catering crew will be coming around to serve you!” Says… Vinnie’s mom? Mira’s mom? They all kind of blend together. It’s not long after this, that Syd rolls by with Marcus and a cart of food. She’s starting with you, despite the fact that you’re not a guest. Sweetie.

“Salmon or chicken?”

“Just gimme both, we’ll split it.” You nod your head to Carmen. “Best of both worlds.”

And then, the game of eye contact conversation ensues. A game that Carmen nor Marcus can comprehend.

‘I asked you’ Syd glares.

‘You can’t just starve him out’ You deadpan.

‘Who said?’

“Syd.” You say aloud. She sighs, handing you both plates, mumbling ‘whatevers’, walking off to serve the actual guests. No time to bicker. You look to Marcus, worried. “Heard about the cake, how’s it goin?”

He shrugs but he’s smirking, proud and bad at hiding it, he hands you a paper plate with a little chocolate cupcake. The floral frosting job is simple, and you know if he had more time, you’d probably be looking at a full realistic rose, but it’s still beautiful. “You tell me. Taste test.”

“Lil sacrilege, to do dessert before dinner, but okay.” You grab a fork from your pile, digging in. “Oh fuck,” You have to laugh. “Marcus— You stress me the fuck out, how do you have time to make shit this good?”

It’s a built-in habit for you, to hand your fork to Carmen. He gives you a moment to realize or pull back. You should but you don’t. He takes it, thankful, and tries the cupcake for himself.

“S’fire, Chef.” He points the fork, emphatically. “‘Specially with what you had.”

“Thank you, Chef.” Marcus nods.

You tilt your head, curious, “Do you even have time to test, though? If this sucked you wouldn’t have time to remake the full cake anyways, would you?”

“No.” He answers bluntly, and you both snort. He adds, “Just wanted to make sure you got dessert, over here.” Just wanted to make sure you ate something.

“Marcus…” You pout, overcome by the sweetness of the sweets Chef. You’ve gotta return the favour. “Gin and juice still your go-to?”

“You tryna get me fucked up at work?”

You shrug, grinning. “Are you tryna get fucked up at work?”

He’s going to say yes, but then he pauses, and looks to his boss. Looks to Carmen. Ah, you don’t run his kitchen— Get that through your head. Of course, Marcus can’t just drink—

Carmen shrugs, smiling, “Are you tryna get fucked up at work, Chef?”

Marcus claps his hands, grinning. “Yessir!”

That makes you feel a little lighter. You nod. “Gin and juice, comin’ up.”

You pour out the pineapple juice— Marcus’ preferred juice, of course you remembered. And Marcus leans over the bar, to watch you stir in the gin, even if it’s just a stupid simple drink, the guy loves to learn.

He asks, “How much they payin’ you, tonight?”

You shake your head, “Tips. Nothin’ else.”

Carmen’s ears burn, at that, while he evenly divides and plates out the salmon and chicken plates so you both have a little of everything. If things were normal you could just eat off each other's plates.

Marcus tilts his head, just as surprised. “You in debt, too?”

“Just to Mikey.” You smile, shaking your head. “No, I’m doin’ this in exchange for Uncle J getting me out of work early, a couple weeks back.”

“That’s it?”

“I was in a rush.” You shrug, measuring out the simple syrup. “Got like thirty missed texts from Syd, I thought someone fuckin’ died, didn’t have time to bargain.”

“Wait—” Marcus cannot help but grin, nearly laughing, at the ridiculousness of it, at how bad you got fucked over, by your own permission. “You’re here because you… left work… to go deliver Nat’s baby?”

“Yessir.” Are you fucking serious? Carmen can’t help but stare at the side of your head, for just a few seconds, before going back down to the plates. You’re in this hellscape of a bar, three states from your home, because you were delivering his niece? You did that for them already, and promised yourself for this, in order to do that?

“You know me,” You hand Marcus his glass, and you shouldn’t make the joke, but you can’t help yourself. “Modern day Christ.”

Marcus stifles down his snort, turning his head away from Carmen, to look at the ground. You do the same. There is something painful, about it all, for everyone; but Carmen can’t say that pain isn’t deserved, on his end, so he takes it. You’re allowed to joke about it all you want, if that’s what it takes for you to feel lighter.

A timer goes off on Marcus’ phone. He takes a sip from his gin and juice, nodding in approval, “Oh, shit— Alright, cool times up—” He lifts the glass to you, you hurriedly get the point and grab a random empty cup to clink with him, cheers.

“I’ll be back.” He says. Doubtful, you think. But you nod and wave him off nonetheless.

“If T needs a drink, tell her to take five.” You haven’t seen her tonight, but you realize yourself, again, once you say this. Not your kitchen. “Uh— If that’s, that’s okay—”

“Tell Chef to take a break if she needs it, we haven’t seen her.” Says Carmen, beside you. We. Don’t read into it. He hates you, and you hate him, actually. Carmen sucks, and so do you.

Marcus nods, and makes his mad dash off as a tsunami of guests that have just gotten their plates decide now that they want a drink with their meal. Sonofabitch.

God, you need a break. It’s really hitting you, and your stomach. As full as everyone’s tried to keep you, you really need to just sit down and have your fucking plate. Working behind a bar is a nightmare on the feet and back— Your earrings feel heavy, and your bracelets feel like handcuffs. It’s just all too much, without a break. You need a nap and maybe a thirty-minute session of just staring at a wall.

But the tsunami.

Carmen watches your side profile, and thinking back in his head, the collage of memories forming your face— He’s never seen you genuinely fatigued before. He’s seen you in the middle of the night, he’s seen you caught off guard, seen you distressed— But you’ve never really been one to ask for a break. It’s always yes of course it’s done, with you. It’s your best and worst trait.

As the crowd closes in, and your face morphs into a smile, ready to serve, Carmen claps his hands together, calling out to the sea. “Ey, sorry everyone, we’re just gonna take a quick thirty, alright? Union mandated.”

There is no such thing as a Bartender’s Union, you and Carmen very well know that. You’re about to call it off and say it’s fine before someone can throw an empty glass at your head or something, but instead, a scrawny but wide built, deeply New York Italian man, at the front of the crowd nods.

And as he nods, the crowd groans. He looks deeply offended by this. He turns to his fellow guests. “Where do y’all get off? We fought for those thirty-minute breaks, you fucks!” This quiets them pretty quickly. “We can live with the fuckin’ punch bowl for thirty minutes, c’mon.”

Carmen gets close enough to whisper to you, but far enough that it’s still not personal. Far enough that he still hates you. “Most of the family does or did service work. Say ‘union mandated’ and you can do anythin’”

You smile, watching the crowd dissipate, you crack a joke, because that’s probably what you’re supposed to do. “Union mandated… Murder?”

“Revolt, y’mean?” “Is that an offer?” “I’d ride for you.”

It’s supposed to be light and fun, but you can’t stop yourself, you can’t play the part and it comes out. “Would you?”

That one hurts. It all hurts, but that one really gets Carmen. That you’d have genuine reason to have pause about his dedication to you. Not your fault, his.

You grab your plate from his side of the counter, embarrassed by your instinctual prod. “Sorry.”

He’s not embarrassed by his. “Stop apologizing.”

There’s a heavy silence, before Carmen adds, “I’m supposed to be fuckin’ apologizing.”

There are no more interruptions. Fak isn’t going to come by, patrons are leaving you be, the staff is either helping Marcus or serving food. There is nothing left, to interrupt you two. This is going to happen. Christ, why does Never Let Me Down Again have to be playing right now? That’s not a fucking wedding song. This is too dramatic and simultaneously awkward and clunky and bad. There is no somethings left for you to do. There is nothing left to do, but talk. Nothing left to do but escape the void, ideally together. Please let it be together. You hate to admit it, but you want it to be together.

There is no good place to sit. So, you pick up your plate, and one of the many forks from your pile. With a sigh, you crouch down, and slide yourself underneath the counter, sitting with your legs folded, so Carmen can join you. You nod to him, to let him know that he can in fact join you.

He does. You take a few bites, in silence, before he breaks it.

“I didn’t mean a fuckin’ word.”

“It’s okay if you did.” You can’t look up from your plate. You deserved it.

He says your name, with a severity, to it. “—I didn’t mean a fucking word.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

“I—” Despite rehearsing what he wanted to say, and having ample stage to say it, he does not know how to say any of it, anymore. “I was like, like, jealous? But not in the— Not in the normal way.”

“Normal way?”

“Like, I didn’t— Well I did— But I like—” He puts his fork down, “I saw you as competition.”

You don’t know what to say, and so he keeps going. “I saw you like… Like being so perfect at everything, and being so… Being so what everyone needed, and you being there, and and— I felt so… the way you can just do that— Like— Like you can just be you and it just works. And I just fucking can’t.”

A talent you share with his brother. A talent Carmen envied in Mikey, and thus, envies in you.

“And then I got so… weird about that thought. Like you being you is— You’re for everyone. And I got this idea in my head that…” He cringes, trying to find better wording in his head for it, and he can’t. “That you were for me.”

“But you’re not for me—” “Ouch.” “—Not what I meant.”

He thanks you, internally, for being willing to add levity, right now. “I lo— I like you, so much. And I don’t want you to change. If you were like…” He half gestures to himself, which you’re not a big fan of the deprecation, but you let it slide. “Cold, and not for anyone, you wouldn’t be… you.”

Carmen realized as much, watching you tonight. Watching you interact with full strangers to long time friends. If you were callus, you wouldn’t be you. If you didn’t love his family as much as he did, he wouldn’t have attached himself to you, so quickly. He loves the way that you love. The way that you can’t turn it off. It’s not that Carmen isn’t special. It’s that you are so fucking special. He’s fucking stupid for not connecting those dots, earlier.

He picks up his fork again, needing to do something with his hands. Your brows remain furrowed, as you try to walk back how he spiraled from what and where.

“So, you just wanted to take me down a peg?”

He shakes his head. “It— I— With Mikey, I— I saw some shit that made me think that I was just… fillin’ a gap, or you were just being so good to me out of like… Guilt.” He chews down on his salmon. “And I couldn’t find your fuckin’ invoice, so I just kept drilling into my head that I was just… Charity.”

“You’re not charity.” You’re quick to refute.

“You didn’t fail Mikey.” So is he.

Oh Christ. You nod, but you don’t believe it. “You weren’t wrong to say it.” You have to put your plate down. “I— I don’t see you like I saw Mikey, at all. But I do…” You trail off, just looking at him has you tearing up.

He leaves home so early. He comes home so late. He looks so tired. Gaunt. Has he been eating? Did he light his oven on fire again? Remember how he looked in the freezer. Remember how Mikey looked in the freezer? Remember how they are so so different. They are so different but you still can’t stop connecting every fragment and taking it as a sign and worrying so fucking much, so fucking paranoid—

“Do what?” He swallows his last bite of chicken, and you can’t stop looking at him and fuck you just can’t hold it back, this time. You were doing so good about this. This isn’t even the point of the conversation— Well, kind of. Just breathe.

As your eyes begin to water, he sets his plate aside on the floor, reaching out immediately, worried, immediately. He pauses, hand floating in the air. Hesitating. “Fuck—Can I?”

Eyes barely open, you nod. He’s quick to take your plate from your hands, set it aside, and hug you there. It’s awkward, underneath a bar counter, half sitting, half crouching, grappling you. Carmen does not wish to be anywhere else.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and babble, unable to hold back a fear that’s been long standing, since the day you met him.

“Sometimes you remind me of Mikey so much and I get so scared and I just— Fuck, I just— Please don’t kill yourself, Carmen.” His arms wrap around just a bit tighter, as do yours. “I know that’s selfish—”

“It’s not.” Mumbled, to your neck. Skin to skin isn’t really the focal point, here, but there is a lurking part of his subconscious fearing that he will never be able to hug you like this, again. Never be your rock. “I won’t.”

It’s silent, for a minute. You believe him. He holds you there, and you believe him.

“Why did you think all that? That you were filler?” You pull back, just a bit, to look at his face. “Did I do something to make you feel like that?”

“No— God no. You’re—” He swallows. It feels stupid now, to even say how his fucking tantrum started, you had it so much worse, in your head. Why didn’t you tell him? “I was looking for your invoice, and—”

“I forgot the booths, by the way.” You recall the shoddy invoice you wrote. It’s a stupid time to interrupt, but as you slowly grow more comfortable, inches from his face, it feels like the time to be stupid. “And taxes. I owe you something more like eighteen-seventy.”

“You don’t owe me shit.”

“I’m paying back a Berzatto, somehow.”

“Where’d that money come from?”

“Where’d your tirade come from?”

He swallows again, getting back to the point. “I found a folder. Called ice chips, or something like that— But it wasn’t for ice. It was, for you.”

You look at him, genuinely perplexed for a second. Then you get it. And it makes a lot more sense, why Carmen knows you failed Mikey—Try as he might to deny it. “Oh… You found my Ice folder.”

“Fuck’s that mean?” You’re glad, honestly, that he’s never had a reason to learn what it means. It’s fair. You had to teach it to Mikey, too.

“Ice. I-C-E, Carmen. It’s an acronym.” You spell it out, slow. “In Case of Emergency. I-C-E.”

It knocks the wind out of him, immediately. He’s extra glad he’s holding onto you, because he’s starting to feel untethered. “What?”

You nod. It’s time to walk him through it. You have to tell him. “I made Mikey keep some sort of emergency stuff as a fail-safe, for when he forgot people wanted him alive.” When Carmen’s quiet, you continue. “I was in his work cabinet, I think Richie was in his bedside, you and Sug were in his wallet.”

His stomach lurches, at the idea of being the emergency his brother always had on him. “You knew he was suicidal?”

Who didn’t? You think, but don’t say, because that’s not fair. Mikey cut him out, how could he know?

“Everyone’s suicidal, when they’re trying to get sober.”

“What?”

“What?” You parrot back. It’s both your turns, to squint at the other, confused beyond belief now. How is he confused? You’re first to ask. “Carmen, what was in my ice folder?”

“Anniver— Oh my fucking God.” He unwraps himself from you, because he’s frankly too ashamed to touch you, realizing everything he misunderstood. “Oh, my fucking God.”

You let him go, though you don’t particularly want to. He’s probably realizing he’s hugging the enemy.

“Carmen—?” “You didn’t fucking date Mikey.”

“What?!” You jump, your head hits the bottom of the base of the bar’s sink. “Fuck! Ow, no— What?!”

It’s a mess of limbs and emotions, as he grabs your head haphazardly, seeing if you’re hurt— It honestly hurts more, to be pulled around like this. “Are you o—” You don’t let him finish, grabbing at his wrists, ignoring your sore head.

“You thought I’d fuck your brother and then—What— try to fuckin’ get the whole set?” You’re cringing at the thought. This had just never come up in your mind. You would’ve set him straight, if it did. It was way worse in his head. Why didn’t he tell you? “I— Carmy, babydoll, are you fucking insane?”

You say nice pet names, when you’re perplexed. You’ve got a pattern of doing so. He also has no comeback for this, completely mum. You release his wrists. You add, again, aghast. “How old do you think I am?”

“Ah— As old as Syd?” “Correct.” “So, twenty-eight?”

“Turning, but yeah.” You nod, like a teacher walking him through a problem. “And how old was Mikey?”

“Forty something.” “Forty-three.” “No one remembers their brothers’ age—” “Sixteen years. Carmen.”

You press your hands over your eyes. “And listen, I get at a point age is just a number but I was twenty-five when I met him and he was already fucking forty— I grew up with Muppet Babies and he grew up with Muppets. Period end of sentence.”

You sigh. This situation isn’t funny at all, but you feel a load lighten off of you significantly. And also the situation is extremely funny. It’s hard to be mad at someone this thrown off.

“It’s just— Listen, do I think Mikey’s hot? Absolutely—”

“Alright—” He cringes, putting a hand in the air, asking you to lay off this train of thought.

“Oh, what do you want me to say ‘your genetic make-up fucking sucks actually’? No, you have a hot family, Carmen.”

“Say this in any other way but this one.”

“I did not date your brother, Carmen.” You finalize, he breathes lighter. “Think about it for like more than two seconds. Richie would’ve fuckin’ run his mouth about it immediately— Would’ve said you’re getting sloppy seconds or call me a fuckin’ homie hopper—”

“I did think that he’d say that, yeah.”

“Well fuckin’ think harder on it, next time—” “Well, what about the joint bank account?”

The most romantic paperwork he’d ever seen. It makes you pause, and Carmen’s considers a universe where you’re just the most incredible pathological liar in existence.

“I made him make it.” You finally say, saddened just thinking about the failsafe that didn’t fucking work. “I didn’t put any money in it.”

“Why’d you want it, then?” The idea of you dating his brother quiets in his head, now he just wants to listen.

“So I could keep track of his spending and withdrawals.” You pick up your fork and twirl it around, like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Need something to do with your hands. “Mostly his withdrawals.”

Carmen thinks about it, trying to tie together the red strings in his head without asking you first. “So you could see if he was buying.”

“If he knew he was being watched, he was less inclined to deal.” You shrug and nod. “Plus I wanted him to get into the habit of keeping savings.”

“Lotta good that did.” Carmen can’t help but laugh, pitifully, at that. “Everythin’ got claimed, when he kicked it.”

You shake your head, you tuck your knees to your chest. “Not everything.”

He just looks at you, curious, waiting for you to explain. Mikey had so much credit card debt— Everything he had outside of fucking tomato cans was claimed.

You shrug. “Not the accounts he wasn’t sole proprietor on.”

Joint bank account. It was partially your money, technically. It deferred to you. Carmen’s head just falls over, another painful realization of another thing you did, that he got completely wrong. You never gave Mikey a cent. You just gave him the protection of your name and credit score.

“Why’d you do all that, for him?”

Holy shit, he doesn’t know. Carmen doesn’t actually know you killed Mikey. You live in a world, still, where Carmen doesn’t completely rightfully blame you. You tap your fingers on your knees. Staring aimlessly. There is nothing else to do.

“Anyone ever tell you why I get called Chip?”

“I asked Richie. Said to ask you.” Carmen shakes his head, he’s a bit sick of himself, for being almost excited to get an answer about this. “Said it was personal.”

You squint and snort. “Since when does Richie give a fuck about personal?”

Carmen smiles, finally, and tucks his knees to his chest to mimic you. “Since me, I guess.”

“Good influence.” You smile, trying to distract from the nervousness, thrumming hard in your chest. Spit collects in your throat like it’s trying to choke you. “I uhm… Chippy is, uh, Mikey started calling me Chip or Chippy cause of uhm—”

You take a moment, one deep breath. A breath of air in the world before Carmen knows. A sanctimonious breath.

You pull at the long black rope chain on your neck, pulling it out from underneath your top, where it’s always been safely tucked. Not hidden necessarily, just always close to your chest. Close to your heart.

“It’s a joke, about— It’s like—”

Just do it, Chip. Let it rip.

“It’s—”

You hold out your fist for him to put his hand out and take it. Carmen gets the point and holds his palm out. You press the pendant into his hand. Holding your hand over it, for a moment, as if you could decide now that actually he shouldn’t be allowed to see this. Like there’s still an escape option, somehow.

You move your hand, you try to speak calmly, as he stares. And the text on the large round pendant stares back at him.

To Thine Own Self Be True.

“Sobriety chip.” Unity, Service, Recovery.

A proud and large 3 months, in the middle of the triangle, leers back at Carmen.

“I was— I was Mikey’s sponsor.”

Now y'all in my asks see why I was waiting, eh?

Ya caught on! Well, after thinking collectively, ya caught on. Some of you got it quick. Anyways, I shouldn't be talking about this like it's some gotcha, it's deeply painful.

A lot of hard confirmations! Fuck! This conversation was so hard to navigate, because I was like-- There's just so much for them to catch up on, and so they keep like moving forward and so I was like wait I have to go back and address this-- No. That's not how most real convos like this work, they just keep running forward, they can clarify later. Such a weird brain challenge. I was tweaking. I hope it's sensical to read? If it's not, dw, i'll walk into the sea about it.

Can you believe this chapter began with Syd/Chip/Richie? Absolutely bonkers. We started with getting ready in a hotel/taking a flight. We were so young, then. I've gotta go watch season 3, so don't send me spoilers, but please send me literally any and all thoughts about this chapter. I really fuckin-- Rah.

I'm happy with this chapter and I honestly think I will probably make a separate post sometime this week showing bits you might've missed-- So much of this was me harkening back to those first three chapters. I went back and reread them recently and I was like woah. I don't know how I did the thing where the writing style felt distant and slowly became close as they became close as characters, but I did feel like that was a thing. In the early chapters. Having to recreate that distant feeling here? Oh fuck. Brutalizing feeling.

Oh but on the more cute side, if you also see Tony as Desi, I was thinkin like a lehenga style blouse with all the work, and like, some black flared pants? and she's got big fuckin jhumkas, OF COURSE!!! OF COURSE BRO!!! But I just left it at semi-cultural so everyone could have fun, hehehe

I feel almost certain, someone's gonna be missing from this tag list, and for that, a thousand pardons, I am gonna put it in my notes app so I don't forget next time, mbmbmb, also added people that did not ask but you are so frequent that i feel like you're just forgetting to ask? idk if you wanna get taken off always just ask dw

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @sharkluver @fridavacado @hoetel-manager @mrs-perfectly-fine

anyways, if you wanna be added send me your thoughts/analysis/diagnosis at length + ask to be added and i will ! try! sometimes they get lost and i am sorry abt that but i do try!

Next Part

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen x oc #carmy x reader #carmy the bear #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx

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persevereforahappyending · 6 months ago

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A Legacies Secret |1|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

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

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Stabbing, Break in

Word Count: 3.3k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Hey babe, what’s up?” you asked.

Tara smiled, even while at work you still managed to answer her calls. She could hear you moving around, the clanging of glasses and the sound of patrons on the other end of the phone. “I miss you,” Tara said. She hadn’t seen you all day and she was home alone and bored.

You chuckled. Tara couldn’t make out the words, you sounded far away but she could tell you were talking to a customer. “Sorry,” you said, coming back to the phone. “We saw each other yesterday.” Tara didn’t say anything, pouting as she grabbed a pot to make dinner. “But,” you sighed, but Tara knew you were smiling. “I missed you too.”

“You didn’t spend the night last night,” Tara pouted, even though you couldn’t see her she wanted to make you feel guilty. “I’m home all alone.”

“You’re always home alone.” Tara’s pout turned into a frown, she glared at you through the phone. “Besides I have an apartment, we could literally be alone together whenever you want.”

“Your apartment is tiny.”

Tara couldn’t help but smile, imagining the eye roll you’d surely give her. “Is that your way of saying when we get out of this hellhole, you’re not going to live with me?” Tara rolled her eyes; you always made everything so dramatic. “It’s fine. You’ll be going to college, living on campus, and I’ll be living in a shoebox all alone wherever you decide to go.”

“I’d love to live in a shoebox with you,” Tara giggled. “Sounds cozy.”

“Yeah?” you teased. “I thought my apartment was too small.”

“It is.” Your apartment truly was tiny. There was a living room, a kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom. It was tiny but it was all you. Tara knew it was the best you could do and still save money and since you were on your own it was actually incredible how well you were doing. She still loved giving you shit about your tiny apartment though. “But I like the idea of being in close quarters with you.”

It seemed you had taken the phone away from your ear again. Tara heard you mumbling and someone else, they had a deeper voice, she assumed it was your boss. “I have to go,” you sighed. “I’ve been informed this has counted as my break.”

Tara rolled her eyes; your boss could be an ass at times. “Tell them you’re dealing with an emergency. Your girlfriend is needy and wants your attention.”

You chuckled again. Tara bit her lip, she didn’t need to see you, just hearing your laugh was everything. “I’m not really sure he cares about that.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“I’ll come over after I get off.”

“I’ll wait up.”

“It’ll be late.”

“I’ll wait up,” Tara said again. She always tried to wait up for you. You worked at a bar and usually didn’t get off till well after midnight, almost early morning the next day at times. There were days you’d get off and come over and you’d be in bed for maybe an hour at most before Tara was getting up for school, those days you were always still in bed by the time she got home.

“Off the phone!” an angry voice came. They were clearly a good distance away, but Tara could hear them clear as day.

“Two seconds!” you screamed back. “I really have to go,” your voice went back to being soft, like it always was when you spoke to Tara. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Tara smiled as she hung up. You’d been dating for almost two years and had said ‘I love you’ a long time ago but it never failed to make Tara blush.

Tara smiled to herself, swaying back and forth in the kitchen. You and her always casually talked about the future together. It wasn’t anything crazy, it wasn’t talks about marriage and getting a house together. It was simple, it was talking about moving in together once Tara graduated. It might seem rushed to most people, moving in together right after high school, especially since you were a few years older, but Tara was eighteen and she knew what she wanted.

Some of the people who thought she was crazy were her best friends, they didn’t have a problem saying it either. Tara didn’t listen to them though, you and her had a plan. Tara would graduate and once she heard back from the schools she applied to, she’d choose, hopefully she’d get into her number one choice, then the two of you would find a little place by campus and you’d work, she’d go to school, and she’d get to come home to you and wake up next to you every day.

Since she couldn’t talk to you, she decided to text Amber. She was bored and though she only needed to entertain herself for a few hours she didn’t want to do it alone. She would just have to make sure Amber didn’t spend the night. You and Amber didn’t get along to put it lightly. You basically hated each other but tolerated each other’s presence, to an extent, for Tara’s sake. Tara honestly wasn’t sure why you didn’t like each other. It was more Amber than you, you kind of just reciprocated her hatred. Amber was never fond of you though. Tara has tried to ask a few times what the deal was, and Amber only ever said she just didn’t think you were good enough.

Tara: Wanna come over? We can binge watch movies

Amber: Where’s the girlfriend?

Tara rolled her eyes. Amber always started off hostile when it came to you. Ever since Tara introduced you, even before the two of you started dating. Amber has always had attitude. Tara tried to avoid talking about you but in times like this it was hard when Amber was the one bringing you up for no reason.

Tara: Work

Amber: Glad to know I’m the second choice

Tara: Stop

Tara: Do you want to hangout or not?

Tara: I’ll make the popcorn

Amber: You can do better than that

The phone on the counter started to ring. Tara looked up from her phone, scrunching her eyebrows at the ringing. No one ever called the landline, if someone wanted to talk to her or her mom, they had their cell. Hell, Tara wasn’t even sure she knew the home phone number. She shook her head and went back to texting Amber.

Tara: You get first pick of the movie?

Amber: I got some homework to finish up

Tara rolled her eyes, of course Amber was going to be difficult. The landline continued to ring. Tara was doing her best to ignore it, whoever was calling seemed persistent though.

Tara: Open liquor cabinet

Amber: Sold!

Tara: Fucking landline won’t stop ringing

“Hello?” Tara answered the landline with an eyeroll, not being able to stand the ringing any longer and hoping to get rid of whoever was on the other end quickly.

“Hello, is Christina there?” A man asked.

Tara rolled her eyes again, of course it was someone asking for her mom. “No, she’s not available. May I take a message?”

“Oh, uhh, yeah, sorry,” he stumbled over his words. Tara didn’t pay him much mind as she got the footrest and made her way over to get the key to the liquor cabinet. “I’m a friend of hers from group. Shit,” he whispered, clearly not meaning to say that.

“From her shit?” Tara smiled to herself, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

“Just tell her I’m from group, I’m Charlie, she’s got my number.”

“Oh, she goes to group?” Tara asked, not believing for a second her mom was going to any sort of group.

“I shouldn’t have-look can you just tell her Charlie called?”

“And I’ll do exactly that Charlie, once you tell me what kind of group we’re talking about. Is it AA? NA?”

“Well, you sound exactly like she described you.”

“She talks about me in group?” Tara couldn’t believe that either, that definitely didn’t sound like her mom.

“Look, I don’t think I can really talk about that.”

Tara sighed, pulling out her phone again. She needed to tell Amber about this. Amber knew exactly what her mom was like and there was no way she wouldn’t enjoy this.

Tara: Dude I think it’s my mom’s new BF

Amber: Seriously???

“What did she say about me?” there was an edge of hostility in her tone, she wanted to hear all about what her mother possibly said about her in this group.

“Well, she loves you very much.”

“Oh, what does she love about me?” Tara asked, her sarcasm coming back.

“She loves that you’re creative, you love art and TV and movies.”

“Okay, lots of people love movies,” she shook her head, dismissing him.

“But she said you love scary movies and that you guys have that in common. She’s proud at making a fan out of you.”

“She is?” Tara slowed her movements, she used to watch scary movies with her mom all the time, but she’d never heard her mom say she was proud of her for anything before.

“Yeah, she told me the other day she wonders, what’s your favorite scary movie?” Tara ignored the way the man’s voice changed, still focusing on the fact that her mom was apparently proud of her.

“Uhh, The Babadook, it’s an amazing meditation on motherhood and grief.”

“Isn’t that a little fancy pants?” the man asked with a chuckle.

“Well, it’s elevated horror.”

“What does that mean, elevated horror?”

“You know, it’s like scary but with complex emotional and thematic underpinning, it’s not just some schlocky cheeseball nonsense with wall-to-wall jump scares.”

The man hummed, not seeming very interested in her answer. “That seems kind of boring to me. Have you ever seen Stab?” his tone changed again when he asked her the question, but once again Tara didn’t think much of it.

“Once, I think, at a sleepover, when I was like twelve.”

The man laughed at that. “You live in Woodsboro, and you don’t know Stab? Well, your mother loves that movie, she talks about it all the time in group. How well do you remember the original?”

“I don’t know, and it was like super 90s, it was really over lit, and everyone had weird hair.”

“Do you remember the beginning?”

“Not really, I mean it started with a kill scene, right? They always started with a kill scene.”

“Yeah, that’s right. That’s right,” he tone shifted again. “It’s a girl at home alone, she answers the wrong number and starts talking with the killer who makes her play a game.” Tara slowed her movements again, thinking the conversation was treading into weird territory. “Would you like to play a game, Tara?” he whispered her name. A chill went down her spine and she quickly hung up, not bothering to answer him.

Tara tossed the phone on the counter, watching it as if it would ring again. Her eyes darted around the house, looking for anything that shouldn’t be there. She pulled out her phone and locked all the doors, arming the alarm. She knew it was Woodsboro and someone always liked to make prank calls, especially around this time of year but she wasn’t taking her chances. Tara looked out the window, not seeing anyone creeping around her yard as she closed the curtains.

Tara checked the time on her phone. Only several minutes had passed since she had talked to you. She still had a few hours before you’d get off and get to the house. Her thumb hovered over your contact, wanting nothing more than to hear your voice. Tara knew she was just being paranoid, but she just wanted your comfort, you’d calm her down within seconds. She didn’t want to bother you though, she knew you were at work, you were busy, and you’d already been yelled at for just talking to her.

She left your contact and went to text Amber. She just needed to be talking to someone. It was clearly a stupid prank, but she just wanted someone to help keep her sane otherwise her imagination would drive her crazy.

Tara: It was some psycho. I’m locking the doors.

Amber: WTF??? You okay?

Tara started to type out she was fine and just a little jumpy. She knew it was probably a prank but that didn’t mean it wasn’t freaking her out. Before she could finish typing her text though the phone started ringing again, making her jump.

Amber: You should answer it.

Tara scrunched her eyebrows looking at Ambers text, she slowly lifted her eyes to look at the ringing phone again, then back down at her cell. Her thumb hesitated over the letters as she typed out her message.

Tara: How did you know my landline was ringing?

Tara: Amber?

Amber: This isn’t Amber

Amber: ANSWER THE PHONE BITCH

Tara moved to call the police; she had nine dialed, tears slowly began to fill her eyes, when another message appeared.

Amber: ANSWER THE PHONE OR AMBER DIES

Tara ran back to the counter, picking up the phone. “This isn’t fucking funny Amber,” she said but couldn’t keep the fear out of her voice.

“I told you, this isn’t Amber,” the same voice as before said, this time sounding much more sinister. Just then a video was sent to Tara, when she opened it, she saw footage of Amber, sitting in her room and brushing her hair. “Amber’s looking particularly fetching tonight. She really shouldn’t leave her phone lying around for anyone to clone.”

“What do you want?”

“I told you, I want to play a game,” he talked to her as if she was a child. “Stab movie trivia, three rounds, you call the cops, she dies, you get a question wrong, she dies, her parents aren’t home, I can be in that room in fifteen seconds. You want a warm-up question?”

“I told you, I don’t know these movies,” came out in a whine, tears already getting ready to fall. “I don’t! Ask me about something I do know,” she tried to bargain. “Ask me about It Follows, ask me about Hereditary, ask me about The Witch.”

“In the first Stab movie,” he continued, completely ignoring Tara’s pleas. “What Woodsboro native was introduced as the franchise’s main character?”

“It’s Sidney Prescott! It’s Sidney Prescott and she lived on Elm.”

“Correct. You see, you’re gonna do great at this. Okay, question one.”

“Nonono, I got that one right, it should count.”

“Anyone could have gotten that one right, Sidney’s in every movie but the last one. Question one, who wrote the original book the Stab movies are based on?”

“The chick from TV,” Tara struggled to remember her name. She had never read any of the books and she certainly didn’t watch the morning show the lady did.

“The chick from TV is not going to cut it Tara,” they let out a disappointed sigh.

“Oh! Gale Weathers! It’s Gale Weathers you motherfucker.”

“Correct. Amber might live to see the sunrise. Question two, who played the dumb bitch at the beginning of Stab one who answers the phone and gets carved up by the killer?”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that the answer you’re going with?” Tara quickly typed on her phone, going to IMDB and looking at the cast for Stab. “A non-answer counts as a wrong answer Tara. Time’s running out.” He continuously repeated the words tick tock, getting faster and faster as the seconds passed, making Tara more anxious and scroll faster.

“Maybe I made a mistake,” he continued, causing Tara to halt her scrolling for a second. “Maybe Amber isn’t enough motivation.” Tara let out a shaky breath, preparing herself for his next words. “Maybe I should have gone after your little girlfriend,” he spit out, not able to hide is clear hatred. “It’d be much easier, I mean it’s late, there’s no one around. No one would even hear her scream.”

“She has nothing to do with this!” Tara screamed, sobbing into the phone. She couldn’t get the image out of her head of you leaving the bar and getting jumped by Ghostface, getting stabbed and left to bleed out in the street with no one to help.

“She has everything to do with this,” the voice snapped. Tara didn’t even have time to process the clearly emotional outburst. “Tick tock Tara,” they snapped again. “Or should I just kill both? I’m sure I can gut Amber and then make it to-”

“Heather Graham!” Tara screamed finally finding the name, cutting the killer off before he could threaten you again.

“Correct,” he said, going right back to his calmer demeanor. “You pulled that one out, now for the final question, who was the killer in Stab one?”

“Oh, I know this one you fuck,” Tara gasped, realizing she knew the answer. “It’s Billy Loomis! It’s Billy Loomis and he was Sidney’s boyfriend, and he was played by Luke Wilson, and I got you asshole,” Tara couldn’t help but chuckle, relieved at getting the answer right. “I got it! I got it right!”

“Oh, I’m sorry Tara,” he almost sounded sympathetic. “But that’s just not correct.”

“What?” Tara whispered, confused, and not believing what she was hearing. “No no no no it is, that is right.”

"The correct answer is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, there are two killers in the original Stab. I’m afraid someone’s gotta die now.”

“Nono, Amber I’m coming!” she shouts as she sets down the phone and grabs a kitchen knife, running for her front door.

When Tara threw open her door, she was met with the sight of Ghostface who quickly slashed their knife across her left side. Tara punched them in the face and slammed the door. She fought against Ghostface as he tried to shove his way in but eventually, she got the door shut, quickly locking it.

Tara pulled out her phone again, arming the system again and hitting the button to alert the authorities. She picked up her knife, slowly backing up down the hallway as she heard Ghostface relentlessly banging on the door trying to get in when suddenly the banging stopped. Tara’s heart dropped when she heard the alarm system say it was disarmed, Ghostface had access to her system somehow. Tara quickly armed it again, but Ghostface was ready, disarming it once again. They went back and forth arming and disarming the alarm system until it finally landed on armed.

Tara stood at the end of the hallway gasping for breath as she continued to sob. The landline rang again, startling her and making her swing the knife. She held the wall, sobbing as she made her way back to the landline.

“Hello?” Tara said, her words shaky as she stood in the middle of the kitchen, keeping the hand holding the knife raised.

“Bonus question Tara,” Ghostface whispered.

“Please stop,” she begged.

“Do you think I made it inside your house before you could re-arm?”

Just as Tara’s eyes widened with the realization, Ghostface came out from behind her, stabbing her in the stomach. Tara let out a scream of pain. When Ghostface pushed her into the kitchen island she turned around, smacking him across the head before he could stab her again.

Ghostface grabbed her by the head and shoved her to the floor. Tara rolled over, kicking Ghostface in the stomach. Ghostface brought down their boot, snapping Tara’s leg. Tara rolled over, sobbing from the pain.

Ghostface brought down his knife towards her face, but she reached up, causing the knife to go through her left hand. Tara screamed, holding Ghostface’s arm up as he continued to try and push the knife towards her face despite it still being in her hand. He finally pulled the knife out and Tara kicked him, making him lose his balance and crash to the floor.

Unable to walk, Tara crawled her way to the front door, screaming for help. Just as Tara reached the door and she could hear the police sirens, Ghostface yanked her back, stabbing her in the side several more times.

“Nononononono,” Tara screamed as Ghostface brought his knife down onto her again.

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

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gguk-n · 3 months ago

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Chapter 4- Heartbreak and Understanding

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen X Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N decides to forgive Max. Max wins his home race. She meets Max's girlfriend who doesn't seem to like her very much. Did I tell you Y/N watched Max win his home race?

{Reader's POV}

Falling in love with your friend is a bad idea. Falling in love with your internet friend who has a girlfriend was an even worse idea. Falling in love with Max Emilian Verstappen was the worst idea. He's all over my screen after I searched him on every social media ever. I cannot escape him when I'm trying to get over him.

It's been a few months since the either of us have spoken to each other. After I asked for time, Max respected my wishes. After our call, I received a message from him saying that he would always be there for me no matter what and that he would like to clear up the misunderstanding one day. I knew I would talk to him, however I hoped that it would be when I was over him. Doesn't look like that's about to happen any time soon since this man is everywhere and anywhere I look.

Summer break was here, so I was having a girl's night with my friend Riley when I decided to ask for her opinion on this whole debacle. "Sooooo, Riley" I began. "You're about to unload some shit you did aren't you. Who fucked you up?" she interrupted me. "What?" I questioned. "I've known you for 6 years, I know you too well. Tell me who do I have to beat up." she said. I began to laugh. "No one" I said in between laughter. I wiped a tear away from the side of my eye, "I haven't laughed like this in a while." I muttered. "Go on, love" Riley prodded. "Yeah, so I have this internet friend, we've been friends since 2013. He's nice, kind, funny, handsome, blonde, blue eyes" I was talking when she cut me off; "exactly your type" I nodded along. "It's all nice and all. I didn't know what he did for a living. I recently found out that he is famous" I mumbled. She looked at me shocked. "Who?" was all she said. "Max Verstappen, Formula One driver for Redbull Racing" I said. "Damn, I mean he's like cute for a white boy. I think he's cool and shit for driving in fast cars, I appreciate him as an athlete for sure; as my bestie's potential love interest, questionable at best" she replied. "why, I mean I didn't say I was interested in him?" I asked defensively. "Bro, he is literally exactly your type, I've seen the men you date or hook up with, on the other hand, he has a girlfriend" she pointed out. "Ok, I know and you scare me sometimes" I lamented. "so, my real question is, I didn't know he was Max Verstappen. I didn't know he had a girlfriend. I was hurt when I found out and stopped talking to him, had a confrontation and then I said I need time before I am ready" I explained. "Understandable" she nodded along. "what do I do?" I asked. "what do you want to do?" she questioned back.

I love Max and I would like to be a part of his life even if it meant only as friends because I cherished the time we've had together. Also, I feel like I didn't let him explain himself the last time we spoke. I want to mend our ways. I would love to have him forever, even if only as a friend. "I want to still have him in my life even if it meant only as friends." I said cautiously. "Then there's your answer." she pointed out. "Talk to him, clear stuff out. If his explanation seems legit then continue to be friends." she suggested. "great idea. Thanks Riley" I said. "Don't mention it. Now can we un-pause the movie." she asked. "yes" I said while un-pausing the movie.

A few days after the heart to heart with Riley I texted Max. I knew he was supposed to be back next weekend for the race and was currently at home. I kind of confirmed that by watching his streams where he did SimRacing. I don't think I'll be telling this to anyone, honestly. He was on stream when my text went through, I saw him check his phone and ask to leave the stream early since he needed to do something; that something being to call me because within seconds my phone was ringing with the familiar name cropping up on the screen. I answered the call, Max staring back at me, a tentative smile played on his lips. He waited for me to start talking.

Y/N- Hi Max. Max- Hi Y/N, how've been? Y/N- Good, you? Max- Yeah, OK. Y/N- I'm sorry for lashing out the last time we spoke. Max- No, no, don't be sorry. I was at fault for hiding such important information from you. Can you ever forgive me? Y/N- Depends... Max- What do I have to do to get you to forgive me? Y/N- Why didn't you tell me? About everything; your girlfriend, your career? Max- I...When we started talking I just enjoyed being a regular teenager, where we talked about school and random stuff. I got to be Max the teenager not Max the youngest Formula One driver. I enjoyed the disconnect I got with you. I got to be myself and forget about racing for a minute. You made me feel like a regular guy. Y/N- I wish you had told me because when I found out about your championships, I felt like I missed out on celebrating such a huge and momentous occasion with you. That hurt. Max- I'm sorry for that. I didn't know how to tell you since it had been so long, I did want to tell you, I really did want to share my happiness with you; I just didn't know how to. You made me feel normal. Y/N- I'm glad I could be of some help. Max- You were of so much help. You calmed me down before many races and reading your messages or hearing your voice was like a comfortable constant. Thank you. Y/N- Fine, I get it some times famous people want to live regular lives, what about your girlfriend. Why didn't you tell me about her? Max- I....am not really sure. We started dating 2 years ago, it just happened. We'd known each other for a while. It just happened. Y/n- Hmmm....doesn't she mind that we talk so much? Max- No, she's chill about it. (He laughed awkwardly) Y/N- I hope we won't have anymore lies between us Max- No not at all. I cherish our friendship too much Y/N- me too. Max- This weekend is my home race. Y/N- I saw Max- You did? Y/N- I might like watching my best friend win... Max- That's great, then you can watch me win in person next week. Y/N- Sweetheart, Maxie, You might be a millionaire; your friend here is broke as fuck. I can't fly out so suddenly. Max- You don't have to worry about anything. I'll get you the tickets and stuff. Just say yes. Y/N- I mean, I would love to meet you in person.... Max- Then, that's final. You're coming to the Dutch GP next week. I'll pick you up at the airport. You should come early and leave a little later. I'll show you around. Max looked and sounded excited. Y/N- Ok (I couldn't help but laugh at his excitement)

As soon as I ended the call, I got plane tickets to the race. He said he would come pick me. I couldn't wait to meet him. I'm sure nothing bad will happen; from meeting my long time friend.

I thought maybe I should show Max some support and buy his merchandise or something; no one told me it was this expensive. I decided against it. The race was on the 27th; I was flying in on the 24th. The flight there was nerve wrecking. I've seen him although not in person. I got a text from Max telling me to go to a certain gate in the parking area where he would be waiting. I found him rather quickly; he had his hand sticking out of the car. I tapped on the window with a big smile plastered on my face. "Hi Maxie!" I greeted. "hey, schat. Get in, I don't wanna get caught." he said pointed at the door. "By who?" I quizzed. "I feel like you forgot what I did for a living and where we were." he chided. I laughed before walking to the opposite side and getting in.

Initially, things felt a little awkward but the atmosphere turned friendly quite quickly. We reached the hotel I would be staying at; Max had planned the entire week of my stay out. I was going to just rest today while Max attended to media stuff and then we would have dinner together tonight. He would take me along to the paddock for all the 3 days. And after the race weekend, he would take me to all his favourite place; my personal tour guide.

I crashed for the day after a shower and having food. I only woke up when Max called me to let him in. It took me a while to realise where I was. I apologised for not being ready to leave when that was the plan initially. Max didn't mind and offered to wait till I got dressed. He told me we were going somewhere fancy so I pulled out my black satin dress I kept for special occasions. This was a special occasion, right, I thought. Max was a lot more patient compared to all my exes who would start getting antsy; he even helped me decide on the jewellery and shoes I should pair with my outfit. Why are all the good men taken, God?

We had authentic dutch food in a fancy restaurant as a three course meal. I loved the Apple tart. I almost moaned as I placed a spoon of it in my mouth; "Max, this is so good" I groaned. Max smiled, "I'm happy you like it." "I love desserts Max, but this is almost up there with my favourites" I said with a mouth full of apple tart. "What are your favourites?" Max asked. "I love tres leches, tiramisu and cheese cakes" I mumbled. After finishing the food, we decided to walk around for a while; it was kind of dark and Max would probably not get recognised was the thought. "Thanks for the food. Maximilian" I said. He just nodded along. "It's an atrocious name Maxie, no offence but Emilian as a middle name; who ever named you, hates you" I said shaking my head. Max laughed it off; "I would've thought you were fucking with me, if you told me that was your middle name" I said patting his back. "I'm sorry" he said. "Don't apologise for your name, you had no control" I said now facing him. "No, I mean I'm sorry for lying and hiding things from you. I never felt good doing that. I wish I had told you sooner. I wish you had found out about it through me." he said regretfully. "It's ok Max, the past is in the past. I hope we'll be more honest in this friendship" I said enveloping him in a hug for the first time. His head found it's way in the crook of my neck, a woody scent wafted into my nose while Max clutched on to my waist. I felt warm tears drip down my shoulder. "Max, are you crying?" I asked, trying to pull away. He tightened the grip on my waist and buried his head deeper, if it was possible, "No" he replied, making my skin on the shoulder vibrate. "It's ok Maxie, let it all out. I'm always there for you." I said patting his back to console him. "I thought I lost you, I thought you'd never speak to me again, I thought you hated me." he muttered softly. "I could never hate you, I might've been angry but I knew I didn't want to lose you either. You are a very important friend to me" I said. "I don't ever want to lose you" he said, finally deciding to look at me with his tear streaked face. I wiped away the tears. "Me neither, now let's go, you have a race tomorrow" I said pulling him along.

The conversation kept me up at night. It was giving me mixed signals. I didn't know what to make of it. He has a girlfriend, granted I haven't met her yet. There was desperation in Max's eyes and his words. They felt heavy and part of me wasn't sure what I was supposed to do with this. Was I thinking too much into it? What was Max's deal?

I got to meet Max's girlfriend the next day. She didn't seem too pleased with me; I mean I don't think anyone could welcome a random women your boyfriend said was his childhood friend suddenly. I didn't hold it against her. I got to meet Max's teammate and the other drivers. All of them were very kind and welcoming. I got to learn a lot about Max while I waited for him to get done with interviews after free practise. I was talking to Lando while he waited his turn after Max. Max returned which made Lando leave. "You didn't tell me you had such cute friends. I would've asked you you set me up with him sooner" I said while we walked back to Redbull. "No" he stated. "You're patronising with the enemy" he continued. "Your enemy, my future boyfriend." I joked. "He's not your type" Max interjected. "And you know what my type is?" I asked. Before he could say anything, his girlfriend whisked him away.

I ended up talking to Checo who was surprised to know me and Max had been friends for so long. Almost everyone in the garage was shocked about our friendship. Checo told me it's because Max had never told them about me. Max and his girlfriend came back who looked visibly annoyed; I tried asking Max what was up but he brushed me off. I spent the rest of the day being dragged around by Max who couldn't stop talking about anything and everything.

I spent Saturday with a lot of the mechanics and engineers who had so much good stuff to talk about. It would probably help me in editing that author. She was almost done with the book; but a few more additions won't hurt. Max qualified pole, he was so excited. He dropped me back at my room when I told him he should rest up before the race when he offered to watch a movie with me. He couldn't care less, he promised to win the race for me even with a little sleep. We ended up watching some movie. His girlfriend's annoyed face was etched in my brain through out the movie, so I decided to ask him about that. "Max, I'm sure your girlfriend minds you spending so much time with me" I suggested. "No, I told her I'm meeting you for the first time. She shouldn't care." he said. "I'm sure she does, she doesn't look very happy to me" I commented. "Don't think about it too much" Max said handing me the can of cold drink. I wasn't very satisfied, but there's only so much I could do.

The race was crazy, it got my heart beating really fast watching all of them zip past at such a high speed. Max did so well, he finished the race in P1 just like how he started it. Everyone rejoiced and headed to where Max was. GP took me with him. Max got out of the car and took his helmet off, his eyes were scanning the area. As soon as our eyes met he strode towards me. His girlfriend was a couple of steps away, before I knew it Max hugged me. "I won, just like I told you I would" he whispered. "Congratulations Max." I said while turning my head towards his girlfriend who looked visibly annoyed and quickly turned on her heels and left. "You shouldn't have done that" I told Max while pulling away. "Done what?" he questioned. "You should've gone to your girlfriend after winning your home race." I said. "She's here for so many of my races, you're not" he stated. I face palmed myself, "Doesn't matter Max, she probably hates me" I said. Max just shrugged his shoulders and went to get weighed.

After all the formality and interviews Max was on the top step of the podium. I was very proud of him and you could see it on my face. I couldn't find his girlfriend anywhere around. Max got down from the podium drenched in champagne trying to hug me while I pushed him away. "No, you'll get me all sticky" I shouted while running away from him.

[ Winning his home race felt special to Max because Y/N was watching. He walked right up to her the moment his eyes landed on her. He couldn't help but wrap himself around her. After the race, they were going out to celebrate his win because Y/N wanted to go out with the other drivers and so he agreed. After reaching his room to quickly shower and leave, he was met with his girlfriend who was sat on the edge of the bed. She didn't look happy and after a bit of back and forth; Max said it. The words that had been floating around in his head for a while now; he didn't know why he didn't say it sooner. He broke up with his girlfriend. He wasn't sad but rather relieved. He walked into the shower while his girlfriend packed everything up to leave]

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verstappen-cult · 8 months ago

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HOW YOU GET THE GIRL | CL16

— 05. THE END

PREV. PART — [ SERIES MASTERLIST ]

summary: in which charles has an embarrassing crush on alex's childhood best friend and everyone meddles. content warnings: faceclaim is taylor hill but you can picture her as you’d like!

INSTAGRAM STORIES

INSTAGRAM POST

Liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and 567,954 others

yourusername 🥂🌅🍋⛱️

view all 8,763 comments

user48 she's so hot i don't know if i wanna be her

zendaya prettiest girl in the world.

user49 is she with charles??

user50 her life doesn't revolve around charles.

user51 im pretty sure she's with charles.

user52 i actually saw a picture going around tw of her and charles like a day ago? so maybe they're spending summer break together user53 a fan ran into charles today in monaco so i don't think they're tgt

francisa.cgomes whoever told you to buy that bikini has excellent taste

yourusername i might kiss that person pierregasly HEY! that's my girlfriend you know. yourusername she wants ME

user54 what is charles doing in the likes

user55 yk sometime people like other people posts. user56 and they're dating so it's pretty normal user54 some people still act surprised lol

alex_albon you look pretty good (i was forced to comment) ((i'm held at gunpoint))

user57 she could be a model

user58 but she chose to follow charles like a dog user59 what is wrong with you people? you hate her just because she's dating your favorite driver. pathetic. user60 and she IS a model btw

INSTAGRAM STORIES

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Liked by landonorris, georgerussell63 and 768,998 others

oscarpiastri We had to leave the others behind. Sacrificies were made.

tagged: danielricciardo, yourusername.

view all 10,862 comments

landonorris WHY DIDN'T YOU TAKE ME?

user61 wait. are they spending summer break together?

user62 girl have you been living under a rock? everyone's spending summer break with everyone. go check twitter.

lilymhe bring me ice cream :(

user63 im having a panic attack

user64 i may never recover

user65 THE 813 WE NEVER KNEW WE NEEDED

charles_leclerc where did you take my girlfriend?

danielricciardo pay us or you'll never see her again. oscarpiastri We'll throw her into the ocean. yourusername WHAT THE F

user66 OMG MY TWO WORLDS COLLIDING

georgerussell63 We're going to leave without you.

carmenmundt No, we are not. georgerussell63 Yes, ma'am 🫡

user67 I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY'RE ALL TGT I'M GOING TO CRY

user68 no one was ready for this

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Liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 9,872 others

charles_leclerc 🌊🗺️🤚🥥

view all 8,776 comments

yourusername who's that handsome boy. 👀

user69 summer break is looking good

user70 screaming crying throwing up i can't do this anymore

maxverstappen1 No pic credits? I put my life in danger for you.

user71 Y/N'S COMMENT OMG

user72 my parents

user73 i want him so bad

user74 i need them to confirm their relationship

user75 i mean it's confirmed they're dating, charles called her his gf in oscar's most recent post user76 WHAT user75 idk why people need them to 'confirm' they just don't want to user76 she's been receiving sm hate online i understand if they wanna keep it a little more private

user78 STAY CALM EVERYBODY STAY CALM

user79 one chance thats all i ask

arthur_leclerc thanks for (not) inviting me

charles_leclerc adults only 🤪 pierregasly i told him to invite you charles_leclerc no you didn't stfu

user80 I FEEL BLESSED

TWITTER

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Liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 9,872 others

charles_leclerc As Taylor Swift once said... love you to the moon and to saturn.

tagged: yourusername.

view all 15,846 comments

user81 I CAN'T TAKE THIS SHIT ITS TOO EARLY

user82 i'm sleeping on the highway tonight

yourusername as taylor swift once said... you are the best thing that's ever been mine. 🖤

charles_leclerc should we kiss now? yourusername i see you making eyes at me from across the room. landonorris there are children on this app

alex_albon fucking finally!

yourusername stfu

user83 MY PARENTS

pierregasly you can finally stop whining. 🙄

user84 THIS IS TOO CUTE

user85 oh my god they finally confirmed it

maxverstappen1 It was all thanks to me, you're welcome.

alex_albon it was thanks to me?? what are you on about maxverstappen1 If I hadn't threaten to punch him, he wouldn't have made things right. alex_albon I introduced them! yourusername no you didn't, you abandoned me and that's how i met charlie. alex_albon SEE?! THANKS TO ME

user86 con 😭 gra 😭 tu 😭 lations 😭

oscarpiastri Can you adopt me now?

olliebearman get in line landonorris i'm their first born child gtfo

georgerussell63 So happy for you! Can you get out of the room now, we want to eat.

danielricciardo they aren't getting out of that room😏

user87 AND WITH TAYLOR SWIFT'S LYRICS

user88 when is it my turn????

TAGLIST (bold means i couldn’t tag you) — @leclerc16s. @willowpains. @berrnuu. @minkyungseokie. @1655clean. @sassyheroneckgiant. @nessacarty1. @a1leexxa. @storminacloud. @lovstappen. @littlehoneyfreak. @paintedbypoetry. @miakat9. @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir. @thatoneembarrasingmoment. @lyrasconstellation. @rhythmstars. @c-losur3. @apolloxxivmin. @janeholt3. @lovrsm. @gulphulp. @thecubanator2. @dark-night-sky-99. @ssprayberrythings.

note: oh my god, i'm so sorry it took me this long to finish this but here you have the final chapter. i'm not good with series but i did my best. hope you liked it!🤍

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #f1 imagine #f1 grid x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 smau

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ghostbustting · 5 months ago

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╰┈➤“𝑻𝑨𝑲𝑬 𝑨 𝑷𝑰𝑪„ ๋࣭⭑

From the 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 series

Early 90's!James Hetfield x Reader

Contains Smut.

For as far as I could remember, they were supposed to send me here with someone else, but that fucking dickhead decided to catch a flu all of a sudden. I barely know shit.. Hell, I’m new to this job.

So here I am, looking dumb as ever as I try to make my way through the venue of the Metallica concert, clutching my camera tightly in one hand, my other hand clutching my photographer ID, completely forgetting the fact that both of those items had straps on them that are currently around my neck. Oh but what can an overthinker like me say? Anyone could snatch them in a flash of light.

My nervous habits told me to chew on my lips, but obviously I couldn’t risk the chance of ruining my lipstick, got to keep the good image, right? So instead, I just chew on the inside of my cheek as I make my way past people and people and people. Pretty sure I saw a girl half naked back there. But- eh, it’s the rock n’ roll life I suppose.

Eventually, I found the way to the backstage, having to show my ID to the security. There were loads of people and rooms there, my mind fills with the thought of where the members could be since I was supposed to be taking pictures of them. The smell.. I can’t tell whether someone has brought a lot of booze or those are sweats of the roadie walking around me. Probably both.

Walking, I peek through every room in case any of the members were indeed in there. Which, is a complete fail. Honestly, I need a human tracker for these men, I’m almost 75% sure at least one of them is inside a groupie at this very moment.

With each steps I take, the more nervous and impatient I get. I can’t wait to just skedaddle out of here at the end of the night.

Hopeless, I decided to approach one of the roadies. I clear my throat before poking his shoulder with my finger, “Excuse me?” My voice came out a little small and soft, “Do you know where the band is?"

I completely forgot how loud it is here, so all I could catch from his answer was to keep walking straight. Perhaps I should take a break from all those loud music, my ears really aren’t it for this shit.

And so I walk.. walk.. walk.. Still not a single member came across my path. I huff, feeling clueless and lost. That is.. until my eyes caught two doors with the signs: “METALLICA” on both of them. One of them had the names “Ulrich - Newsted” and the other door had “Hetfield - Hammett”. Bingo.

I decided to take a visit the vocalist and guitarist’s room first, gently knocking on the closed door before opening it and taking a step in, my steps cautious. The room seemed quiet compared to the other rooms and the chaotic condition outside. I gulped, “Hello?” I whisper in a hushed voice to the empty room, closing the door behind me.

Or rather- what I thought was an empty room.

"Hello to you too, miss."

I flinch a little, spinning around due to the sudden deep voice that greeted me back. My eyes were met by the unreal sight of James Hetfield, leaning against the doorframe to the toilet with a gorgeous smirk planted on his lips that many girls probably dream of kissing out there, a halfway finished bear in his grasp. Took my system quite awhile to realize that the blue eyed blond in front of me is shirtless, only in jeans that probably hugged his ass.

Closing my panicked yet ‘blessed by the sight’ eyes with my hands almost in an instant, I turn around, “I’m so sorry!” I walk towards the door with still a blind sight, only when I bumped into the door that I remembered I had closed it. “Ah shit-” I held my hurt forehead with one hand and the other moved to the door handle to open it with a push.

I was in fact, supposed to pull it.

Before I could try to pull the door and make my way out, a hand slammed itself on the door and pushed it back closed. I slowly turn around, finding myself being towered over by James. A small chuckle leaves his lips, “It’s okay,” His eyes went to my camera, “cam girl, are you?” He asked, his voice low yet gentle.

I clear my throat, “Photographer.” I correct him, my voice small and nervous, trying to ignore the proximity between the both of us. He chuckle once more and nod, “A smart one it seems.” At that moment, I feel like his eyes were seeing through my skin and directly into my soul, and that fact made me feel my cheeks heating up.

Not only his eyes, it’s the way he licks his lips, the way he towers over me, the way his bare chest is so close to meeting my clothed one, and also the fact that he’s James fucking Hetfield. Everything about him intrigued everyone.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” He spoke up once more. Seeing me struggling with my words, his hand reach down to grab my ID, pulling it up to his face, due to the ID’s strap around my neck, I was also pulled close, bumping into his bare torso, but he looked like he could care less and focused on my ID.

I can hear him mumble my name once he read it. The way my name rolled off his tongue is surely something I’d want to hear again and again and again.

“You okay?” His voice snapped me out of the short trance I’m in.

“H-huh?"

He smirked, his teeth peeking out just the slightest. My eyes watch cautiously as his hand reach out to lay on my chest, right where my heart would be beating hard, fast, and loud. Oh, that doesn’t sound right. But it truly is what’s going on with my heart, and I can’t tell why. “Your little heart’s beating a little too loud there, sweets.” His voice sounds playful as those words escaped his mouth in a whisper.

My mind blanked out while I try to find the perfect answer, “I- i-” I would protest, but the sight of my chest heaving up and down would simply proof my statement wrong.

Even if I wanted to speak, I’d cut myself off in surprise as his hand slowly make it’s way across my chest and towards one of my clothed breasts, talk about being subtle.. I sucked in deep breath when he suddenly squeezed and groped it gently.

I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back whatever noise that was urging to slip past my lips, I try to speak, “W-we shouldn’t—”

Too late. Cause before I could finish my sentence, he press his lips onto mine and at that moment.. I can feel all the self respect and professionality in me float away and evaporate into thin air as I press my lips against him back, locked in a desperate kiss.

His hand was still groping at my chest while his other one trails to wrap around my waist and pull me even closer, my arms coming up to wrap around his neck, practically clinging onto him like a koala on a tree, my fingers climbing up to run through his blond hair.

Our lips just continued rubbing together, his tongue eventually coming to meet mine between our now red lips due to my lipstick. I can feel his hands tugging on my shirt and pants and unbuttoning them one by one while walking us to the couch in the room, all while our tongues still meet in the sloppy desperate kiss.

Everything goes so fast. Well, that is what happens when it’s something fun that’s going on. Time can be painfully slow yet annoyingly fast sometimes.

Next thing I knew, I was thrown onto the couch, every single fabric that once covered me thrown away. I took deep breaths from the kiss and watch as he lean down to take my camera that previously fell onto the floor.

My heart beats faster as he approach me and grab me by my hair harshly, I gasp and wince while he is pulling my face forward to the camera. I didn’t know what’s going on until a flash from the camera blinded my eyes.

A smirk once again is seen on the face of James Hetfield in satisfaction before putting the camera strap around his neck, my camera now dangling from him. Like an obedient pet, I sit there and watch every move makes carefully, waiting for what’s next.

His hand meets my cheek, I can feel his slightly rough finger pads stroking my heated red skin, “Such a good girl..” He whispers, his other hand coming down to unbuckle his belt.

My eyes widens in surprise, yet there’s also a hint of excitement behind all of those nervousness as a another fabric is discarded and join the floor. The only thing keeping me from what would be his cock is his boxers, yet that didn’t even help hide how hard and strained little James is.

I look up at him, our eyes meeting while I search for a sign of permission as my hand slowly make it’s way to his boxers, causing his eyes to gaze down at it instead. Hooking my finger on the waistband, I slowly pull it down until it joins the jeans on the floor.

A sigh left James as the cold air meets his beautiful length. My hand reached for it and slowly stroke it up and down, feeling every veins move under my palm. I was unsure of how I was doing, but the way his hips bucked up proves an answer.

“Use your mouth. Make me proud, yea?”

And that’s what I did. My lips wrap around the tip of his length, licking the salty precum dripping out in beads. My tongue slowly trail to the underside of his length, carefully but surely.

Then slowly, my head starts to bob up and down his length with my cheeks hollowed, sucking hard like a true slut.

My hazy eyes look up at him as I please him with the warmth of my mouth, only to be greeted by another flash of the camera, capturing a perfect picture of my vulnerable position. He groans at the sight and I went even faster.

His other hand went to my hair and guided me. Though I did choke a few times, my saliva coating his length even more. Tears starts to build up in my eyes, my vision becoming blurry while my throat fight to make him proud. My moans muffled around his length while his groans are delivered clearly.

Not long, I could tell he was close. I suppose that’s why he then pull his length out of my mouth, my jaw aching just a bit. I pant for breath as he sit down on the couch and grab me, pulling me up on his lap with my body weak.

He place my hair out of my face and kissed my lips for a second, “Ready to be filled? Hmm?” His cock was right underneath my bare pussy, I whine at the sensation, hands on his shoulder as I look down, grinding on him a little. “Hips up, sweets.”

I did as he told me, lifting my hips as he position his length. Slowly, I begin to sink down.. moaning in unison with the blond man that’s currently buried inside me.

His length was way thicker than I thought, stretching me out and making me a whining mess before even moving. That fucking sly smirk is still on his face as he place his hands firmly on my hips, “Move baby, move.”

“I-” I try to protest but words seems to find their way out difficult. So I slowly lift my hips up and sink back down, repeating the same move over and over again till I found the ability to accelerate my move.

Moans leave my lips like a sinful melody, my body bouncing up and down on his length like a forbidden dance. Yet I’m enjoying every second of this. And by his groans and expression, I can tell it’s mutual.

Another flash of the camera blinded me, capturing a picture of me on him with my breasts bouncing from how fast I was moving. I whimper and bury my face in his neck, my hot breath meeting his skin and causing his hips to buck up and meet mine.

Eventually, my ability to move with that same pleasuring speed starts to disappear as vulnerability starts to get to me more and more, my body becoming weak and all the senses I have intoxicated with how good he feel in me. “I- I can’t.. f-fuck..” I cried, shaking my head.

With a chuckle, James simply manhandled me once more and slammed my body down on the couch, he then held my legs and put them up on his shoulder.

Suddenly, his hips starts ramming into me in an unbelievable speed, making my moans even more louder and high pitched. "Fuck!!"

Whatever possessed this man I will never know, cause a sex like this is a sex I can only think of in the middle of a lonely night, my thoughts would be saying it’s unreal and that I'm delusional.

But here I am, stuffed with James fucking Hetfield.

“J-James..” My voice whispered in gasps for him, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as tears continue to roll out of my eyes.

Another flash of the camera. This time, capturing the sight of my tearful and vulnerable face. Then another flash. And another. And another. Shit, this man is gonna make me lose my job..

“So good.. fuck.. Hang in there, sweetheart..” He groaned and speed up even more making me gasp even louder, “James!!” I screamed. He thrusts so oddly well, hitting every single spot that he knew would make my toes curl.

But then, the moment his fingers greeted my clit by rubbing harsh circles on it, I knew I wouldn’t last any longer. “I can’t..! P-please..” I beg, as if I wanted this to end while knowing damn well I don’t.

My body squirms underneath him, like a leech that’s been poured salt on. I grabbed onto a pillow on the couch and press it on my face, crying into it.

“Show your face. Now!” He lift my hips up, still thrusting, then his palm meets my ass in a harsh spank, causing me to flinch and obediently abandon the pillow. My eyes met his and I can’t even tell what expression he had on because of my blurry eyes.

My chest rises up and falls down, panting for breath. “…’M close.. James, I’m close..” I whimpered, gripping onto the couch.

“I know baby, me too..” He groans and his hips’ movement starts to falter, “Let go, sweetheart..”

I took deep breaths and gasp once the knot in my stomach released and white fluids starts to drip out of my pussy, around his length. I whined at the sensation and bite my lip.

Then, James pulled out and starts to pump his length with his hand, shooting his load on my stomach and chest, groaning. He took out the camera once more and took a picture of my dripping cunt and my cum-painted body.

I try to relax and breathe normally again, my hand reaching up to lightly touch the cum of James fucking Hetfield on my chest, only to flinch when James suddenly wrap his hand around my throat and lean his face close to me.

His eyes were sharp and his voice was deep, “You listen and you listen carefully,” He started, taking off the camera and putting it close to my face, “When you go home, I want you to print these pictures and copies of them. I want you to keep them and remember me. I want you to go to our next concert, meet me backstage, and give me the fucking copies so I can have a little souvenir, yea?” His voice was stern, almost similar to the voice he use onstage.

“Understand?”

“Y-yes..—”

“Louder!” He lightly slapped my cheek.

“Yes, James!”

And like that, the James Hetfield smirk returns to his face and he press a kiss onto my forehead, “Good girl.. Now c’mon, get dressed. I’ll find the boys for you.” He winked and stood up, picking his boxers and jeans up. I slowly sat up as well, sniffling and wiping my tears. I look down at the camera roll and find.. rather sinful pictures of me.

I’m never quitting my job.

#james hetfield #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield smut #metallica #james hetfield fanfiction #smut #james hetfield x you #metallica fanfiction #metallica x reader #metallica smut #fanfic

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loulouwrites · 7 months ago

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HELLISH . AFLIE SOLOMONS

summary: alfie's secretary makes the decision to marry, it's a shame her prospective husbands seem to disappear after one meeting warnings: angst, violence, swearing, jealousy, threats, borderline stalking honestly, muderous thoughts, unedited, unrequited love word count: 3.5k a/n: i've been away for a while bc life is hard. i wanted to write a little alfie story not related to the 'home series' and came up with whatever this is so i hope you enjoy. i'm working on a taglist, so if you would like to be included, lmk <3 also lmk if you'd like a part 2 to this, i've already cooked something up!

She had known Alfie Solomons for about three years, and they had been friends since they had met.

Two years into their strange friendship, she had been sacked from her job as a secretary for an Italian businessman, he didn't say why he suddenly decided he didn't require her services, but they both knew. Tensions were rising between the Jewish quarter and Italian quarter in Camden, and everybody was sticking to their own side of town.

When she had told Alfie about it, he had offered her a job immediately - the rising tensions were partly his fault anyways.

Her mother had not been happy when her daughter came home with news she would be working for Alfie Solomons, but when she saw the stack of notes Mr Solomons had given as a 'pay advance', she warmed to the idea.

It was easy work. He had his men for the nitty-gritty stuff, she merely typed up Alfie's ramblings and sent threatening telegrams to people - it was easier than any legitimate job she had ever had, and it paid better, too.

She would often have lunch with Ollie, Alfie's second in command if you wanted to call him that. She was allowed a longer lunch than he was, Ollie wasn't supposed to have a lunch break at all, but if she were talking to him, it was rare they would be interrupted, unless there was an urgent matter to attend to.

Ollie was a good gossip, better than any of the other men in the bakery, Alfie excluded. But, unlike Alfie, Ollie had no interest in her, sexually or romantically, so she enjoyed the time she could spend talking to him, discussing rumours or chatting about their lives outside of work without it turning into something else within minutes.

"Do you think he'll let me leave an hour early?" She asked from where she was perched on the man's desk, swinging her feet back and forth.

"He'd let you leave now if you asked," Ollie replied, rolling his eyes at the girl. It was true, Alfie would probably still pay her if she didn't show up, he'd let her release a group of pigs in his office if she wanted to.

"He's in a mood, though."

"He's always in a mood."

"Not as bad as this," she pointed to their boss' office, where the blinds were pulled up, showing his figure stomping around the small room, throwing pieces of paper and trinkets onto the ground.

"Fuck," she sighed as a loud crash was heard, though they couldn't see what had bared the brunt of the man's rage from their seats.

"Maybe reschedule?" Ollie offered, his eyes not leaving the glass window of Alfie's office.

"I'm just going to ask him," she planted her feet on the ground, ignoring Ollie's protests. "The worst he can do is say no," she shrugged, walking towards the office door.

"That is not the worst he can do," he called after her in an urgent whisper.

She didn't knock when she entered, she never had, and she wasn't about to start now.

A book flew past her face when she stepped inside, and she quickly stepped to the side, it hitting the wall behind her and falling to the floor.

"What did...that Russian book ever do to you?" She asked, and his head snapped up to look at her, his eyes wide.

"Shit, sorry 'bout that, love," he sighed, wiping a hand over his face but she waved him off, moving to sit in one of the chairs at his desk.

"Bad day?"

"Better now," he winked at her, and she rolled her eyes playfully. "What do you want?"

"I want to leave an hour early," she offered him a wary smile, clasping her hands together pleadingly.

"You fuckin' what?"

"Please, Alfie-" she started, but he was up from his seat before she could finish her sentence, pacing up and down the cramped office with his hands on his hips. "It's only an hour, and I'm not doing anything anyway."

"You're not doing anything?" his eyebrows raised as he turned to face her. "You're really admitting that to your boss?"

"Please, Alfie," she stood up, taking a few steps towards him. "I never ask you for anything."

She scowled at the obnoxious laugh he let out in response.

"Never ask me for anything?" his voice raised an octave to mock her. "A pay advance that you still haven't paid back," he help up a finger as he counted. "A weekday off so you can go shopping when it's less crowded, a bonus so you can get your mum a birthday present, a day off when your fucking cat died," he stepped towards her. "Asking me to come to it's fucking funeral."

"You said it was a lovely service," she placed a hand on her chest in offense.

"You know what?" he sighed, rubbing a hand up and down his face. "Just fuck off, yeah?"

"Really?" She smiled, clapping her hands.

"But you will come in an hour early tomorrow to make up for it, or so help me God, I will come to your house and drag you here myself."

It was an empty threat, and they both knew it.

"Thank you, Alfie." She reached to place a kiss on his cheek, not taking offense when he reached to wipe his cheek when she pulled away, already opening the door to leave. "I'll see you bright an early tomorrow."

She couldn't make out what he grumbled after her.

Alfie waited until she had left the bakery to slink out of his office, approaching Ollie's desk, and tapping on it with his knuckles.

"Why'd she want to leave early?" he asked his assistant, not missing the way the younger man sunk down in his seat.

"I don't want to tell you," Ollie replied, sheepishly.

"Ollie," Alfie warned.

"She's meeting up with someone?"

"Ollie."

"A man. She's meeting up with a man, her mum's friend's son or something. Think she's looking to settle down, you know?"

Alfie hummed, a hand coming up to rub his beard. "Interesting," he mumbled, walking back to his office, landing a smack to Ollie's head as he passed.

Her suitor had been a perfect gentleman. Jacob had taken her to a fancy club in a nicer part of London, had bought her dinner and drinks without grumbling about the prices, and had dropped her off at home with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to take her out again the following weekend.

She hadn't thought a man her mother had set her up with would be particularly charming, but she had been proven wrong, the stupid smile she wore on her face all week being proof of that.

She had been thinking of settling down for a while. All of her childhood friends were married with several children at this point, and she didn't miss the sympathetic looks they would give her when she told them she was still unmarried, still childless, and still working.

Marriage was always something she thought would come naturally -as it seemed to do with everyone else around her - but years rolled by and she was still no closer to the life that had seemed so easily achievable when she was young. So, she had decided to take matters in her own hands, informing her mother and everyone else she could that she was ready to marry, and asking them to let her know if they knew a boy they thought would be a good match.

And, she thought she had found the good match on her first try, but when the week after her date rolled on, and there was no word from Jacob, she realised how stupid she had been.

She had been moodier than ever that week, stomping around the bakery with a scowl on her face, smacking the keys of her typewriter harder than necessary, and barely speaking two words to whoever approached her.

She was not dealing with the rejection well.

So, when a handsome worker - who she recalled was named James -- passed her desk, offering a confident smile as he did, she wasted no time.

She wandered into Alfie's office with her hands clasped behind her back, swaying slightly as she waited for him to look up from the papers on his desk.

"What?" He asked, still reading the scribbles on the page.

"Didn't know you'd taken new people on," she shrugged nonchalantly, keeping her tone light and unbothered.

"And? What about it?"

"I don't know," she shrugged again, stepping further into his office. "Just a lot of new faces around here,"

Alfie groaned, dropping the papers from his hand and removing the glasses he wore from his face. "Since when do you care about new faces?"

"I don't," she laughed defensively. "I was just wondering about one of them, is all."

"You were just wondering about one of them," Alfie's eyebrows rose, and he leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "What were you wondering about?"

"I mean...maybe some background..."

"Like what? His favourite fucking book? The fuck you expect me to know?"

"I was just wondering, that's all," she held her hands up in defense, and her boss' eyes squinted at her words.

"I thought you were already seein' someone, that is why you left early a couple weeks ago, ain't it?"

"Who the fuck told you that?"

"Don't matter," Alfie offered her a smile. "Didn't work out or something..."

"No, it didn't," she huffed. "So...about James..." she trailed off, waiting for Alfie to step in, but he merely offered her a blank look. "Alfie," she whined, stomping her foot against the floor."

"Don't know 'im. Sorry, love," he waved a hand dismissively.

"Fine," she spun on her heel, storming out of his office. "I'll find out myself."

James was lovely. She had 'bumped' into him when she was leaving, and it hadn't taken him long to offer to take her out for drinks when he finished his shift, which she had accepted with a grateful smile.

He had met her outside of the local pub near the 'bakery', it wasn't a particularly nice establishment, but the lager was cheap, and she supposed he didn't have the money to spend in a fancy club like Jacob had - not with the pittance she was sure Alfie was paying him.

He was funny, and quite respectful in comparison with some of his colleagues. He had asked her questions about her interests, had shared his own, and she was delighted that they seemed to have quite a bit in common.

They had ended the night at her door, with chaste kiss, and another promise to go out again the following week, and she had closed the door with a grin on her face.

"See you at work tomorrow," he had said as he walked away.

When she arrived to work the next morning, the same grin still on her face, she couldn't stop her eyes scanning the floor as she walked to her desk, desperately trying to seek out James, but, when she couldn't find him, she had shrugged it off.

Maybe he was ill or something.

It was now Thursday. Her date with James had been on Monday, and there had been no sign of him ever since.

It was hard not wonder, had something bad happed to him? Had he been hiding every time he saw her walking through the distillery? Had he been so repulsed by her that he had quit his job just to avoid seeing her again?

The thoughts had consumed her all week, and they had affected her mood significantly. Unlike with Jacob, where she had been an angry force at work, she was now forlorn, barely speaking to anybody, and zoning out of conversations with a vacant look on her face.

It was starting to worry her boss, who spent longer than appropriate watching her from his office window.

He had called her into the office that afternoon, watching as she walked seemingly in a daze, her eyes were duller, and he face appeared more sunken.

She didn't say anything when she took a seat at his desk, nor did she meet his eyes when he said her name.

"You alright?" he had asked, his tone more concerned than he wanted it to be.

"Wonderful," she replied, her voice flat, fiddling with a thread on her skirt.

"You've been wandering 'round like a ghost for the past week, love. What's goin' on with ya? Please don't tell me another fucking cat died."

She huffed a laugh that was clearly fake, still fiddling with the thread when she responded. "I think I'm unmarriable, Alfie."

Alfie's shoulder's straightened at her words, leaning his arms on his desk, he studied her face, watching as she blinked away the tears that were beginning to pool in her eyes. "The fuck are you talking about?"

"Two men in two weeks, Alfie. I have gone out with two men in two weeks and they have both disappeared...literally disappeared, I haven't seen them since."

Her eyes lifted from her dress to meet his, and Alfie was struck by how sad she looked. He had never thought she would be this upset by a couple of boys not getting back to her after one night.

"That's silly, love," he sighed. "It don't mean nothin'"

"Yeah," she scoffed, "it does."

He considered telling her in that moment, he truly did. A better man would have, would have confessed right then and there.

A better man would have told her that they had cornered Jacob after he had dropped her off at her door. How he had almost certainly broken the young man's nose before he had a chance to blink, how he had had his men hold the boy by the shoulders while he whispered a warning in his ear.

"Stay away from her."

He really should have told her that he had turned up at James' shitty flat on Monday night, waiting for the man to return from his date with her. That his worker's body had began to shake when he saw his boss leaning against his front door, his arms crossed against his chest and a cold look in his eye.

"Have to let you go, son," Alfie had said. "A worker that is more concerned about fucking my secretary isn't one I want workin' with me."

James had begun to splutter a reply, but Alfie was already heading for the stairs.

"Best you stay away from her, yeah?"

It hadn't been a question.

He really should have told her, but he didn't. Instead, he had sighed and rose from his seat, moving into the empty chair beside her.

"You ain't unmarriable, woman," he told her, patting her shoulder. "You just chose two fuckin' idiots."

"Whatever you say, Alfie," she said, standing up and walking out of the office without another word.

He should have confessed, but he didn't. He did, however, promise himself he would not get involved in her personal life anymore. The next man she met, would not have to face a threat from Alfie Solomons.

She had been leaving her home to go to work when she had ran into Elijah on the street. He had chased after her, holding an envelope in his hands, waving it frantically when she finally turned around when she heard the stranger's voice calling after her.

"I think you dropped this," he handed her the envelope, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she took it from his hands.

"Oh, thank you," she laughed. "My boss would have murdered me if I lost it."

He had laughed at her words, not realising she wasn't exactly joking about her boss.

"I'm Elijah," he held out a hand, which she took with a smile.

"He's really nice, Ollie," her words were muffled as they travelled into Alfie's office, and he had to press his ear closer to the door to be able to hear her clearly. "A real gentleman."

'A real gentleman.'

Alfie rolled his eyes, 'gentleman' was just another word for a soft prick.

"We're going out again tonight," she told her friend. "Said he has a surprise for me."

"What do you think it is?" Ollie asked her, and Alfie rolled his eyes again. Ollie was worse than a fucking twelve year old girl.

"I mean we've been seeing each other for a while, he's met my family, I've met his..." she trailed off, and Ollie's gasp was clear as day from where Alfie was standing.

"You think he's going to propose?"

And just like that, Alfie's heart dropped to his stomach. He tore his ear from the wall, storming back to his desk, dropping to the seat with a heavy thud.

Of course Elijah was going to propose, of fucking course. She had been seeing him for the better part of four months, and she spent every waking minute talking about the nice doctor, it was natural that his was how it was going to progress.

He regretted not cornering Elijah on is way to work the moment she had mentioned his name, regretted not giving him the same treatment he gave the two men that came before him. He should have, should have twisted the man's arm behind his back until he was crying like a little girl, should have had his men hold him down while he kicked him in his ribs until blood came out of his mouth, he should have put the barrel of his gun to his head an pulled the trigger.

But to what end?

She was a good girl. She wanted to get married, have a few children and take care of the house while her husband was at work.

Alfie couldn't offer her that.

Everything he could offer her, he already had. He had given her protection, a stable income, and some form of friendship. He could never give her what she truly craved. He knew that, no matter his feelings for her - feelings he didn't understand himself - he couldn't give her the life she deserved.

And that thought made him sick.

The room was too hot for him to sit in any longer. Alfie pushed through the crowd of people, shoving them harder than necessary until he reached the door, the sound of music and laughter fading as the heavy door closed behind him.

He took a seat on a damp wooden bench, his head dropping in his hands.

It had been a lovely ceremony, a bit small, and a bit cheap for his tastes, but she had managed to make it lovely anyways.

He stood when she entered, her parents on either side of her, walking her to the end of the aisle.

She didn't spare Alfie a glance, too busy looking ahead - looking at him. The bitterness twisted in his stomach and it took all the self control he possessed to keep a neutral look on his face.

Elijah met her at the end of the aisle, taking her hand and helping her up the little steps, a sickening smile on his face.

Alfie didn't miss the sympathetic glance Ollie, who was beside him, threw him.

"Not enjoying the party?" her voice was as sweet as anything, full of happiness.

"Weddings ain't really my thing, love," he offered her a smile, it dropping as quickly as it came.

"But this isn't just any wedding, Alfie," she said, taking a seat next to him. "It's mine, you should be happy."

"Why is that?"

"You've finally gotten rid of me," she laughed, nudging his shoulder with hers. "You don't have to pay me to sit around and do nothing all day, should save you a bit of money."

Alfie didn't laugh with her, a bitter smile on his face as he looked down at his hands.

"Oh don't tell me you're sad about me leaving?" her voice held nothing but humour and Alfie wanted to scream at her.

How can you be so blind?

Can't you see I love you?

"Nah, I'm just upset it took this long," he said eventually, rising from his seat, patting her on the shoulder as did. "I'm gonna head out, but congratulations, love. You look very beautiful."

Her eyes softened at his words, her smile widening from where she was sat, looking up at him, her eyes sparkling.

He didn't have time to react when she shot up from her seat, throwing her arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer to her.

"You're the best friend I could have asked for, Alfie," she whispered, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Yeah, well," he cleared his throat, pulling her arms away from his shoulders and taking a step back. "Fuck off, now. You're missing your own wedding you stupid woman."

She laughed, nodding her head and disappearing back into the building before Alfie could blink, leaving him frozen in place, the bitterness that once consumed him being replaced by what felt like an all-encompassing sadness.

'The best friend I could have asked for."

What a fucking joke that was.

#alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons x oc

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gurugirl · 10 months ago

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an adorable bad boy | loveable!rogue!harry

This is part 1 of a Patreon series (all 10 parts have been posted on Patreon already). If you'd like more check out my Patreon! xoxo

A loveable rogue is someone who breaks the law for personal profit while being nice and charming, likely with a sad or dark past.

AU Premise: Harry has been in and out of jail for nearly a decade due to a string of bad luck and bad choices. But he's not a bad guy. Not really.

Summary: Harry's trying to keep on the straight and narrow now that he's out of jail but things have never come easy for him. And then he meets the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. Maybe things won't be so bad after all. If only she'd give him her number.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warning: Mentions of drugs and the sale of drugs, mentions of jail time

❊❊❊

Harry’s life sucked. Every time he tried to get on the right track, his past would come back to haunt him. He took responsibility for the things he did and he knew he deserved to have the book thrown at him. But he also knew where he came from didn’t make things easier for him. Starting at a young age he had to act like an adult and do things most people would never imagine needing to do just to get by.

Now, nearing 30, he was determined to get his shit together. If he had to step foot in another jail cell again he was going to just end it. He couldn’t handle another sentence that had him losing a job, his car, the place he was staying… Every time he got into trouble it was like he had to start over again. From scratch.

And he was always well-behaved once behind bars so he usually got out early on good behavior. But keeping out of trouble as a free man was nearly impossible. He’d be tossed out on the street once he was released but with no place to go and not a dime to his name, times were hard. He had to hustle for a dollar. And when he meant hustle, it usually involved something illegal.

Getting a job that paid well was a joke. No one wanted a convicted felon. No one would hire a man who had a criminal record. Why risk it? He sure as hell wouldn’t if he were in their shoes.

There was no program to help him reintegrate. No help for a safe spot to sleep. Shelters wouldn’t even allow him a safe haven due to his past. He had nothing. Incarceration meant drudging through, keeping his head down, and following directions. That was easy. But there was nothing easy about rebuilding his life over and over again once he was out from behind bars.

His sister wouldn’t answer his calls anymore. He’d drained that well dry. His mother had cut him off too. His cousin was a last resort, but that’s sort of how his life was these days. Everything was a last resort.

“Harry! My dude! You get out?”

He was leaning against a tall residential building in an alley with a cigarette in hand. The phone he was using was the one that he had when he got locked up, kept for him upon his release. The officer helping him fill out his release forms allowed him to charge his phone before they pushed him out the doors. How kind.

The wifi signal from the bookstore gave him access to his apps so he could make the phone call he was dreading.

“Yep. Glad to be out of there. How are you doing?” He figured he’d make some small talk before getting to the point. He didn’t want to be rude, after all.

Saul gave him the rundown of what had been going on with everyone. And then Harry learned he was engaged.

“Wow. Congrats, cousin. Proud of you. You guys living together?”

“Nah. Not until after the wedding. She’s a really good girl. Super sweet. Her whole family is. Just like, the nicest people I’ve ever met. But she doesn’t want to move in until we’re married since that looks bad to her parents,” Saul laughed. “They’re super conservative about stuff like that. They think she’s still a virgin.”

Harry humored him with a chortle through the phone and then sighed. The sun was going down. Small talk needed to come to a halt. He had to get this part over with.

“So, uh… hate to ask this but um, could you let me crash at your place for a few nights? I’ve got nowhere to go since I just got out and gonna be cold tonight. Otherwise, I’d just sleep in the park or something.”

Silence for a few uncomfortable seconds.

“Did you ask your sister? I mean I’m sure–“

“She hates me right now. Won’t take my calls. But man, look, it’s okay if you can’t. I get it.”

“You know what? Sure. You can stay here for a bit. I know shit’s hard. How you gettin’ here?”

Harry let out the breath he’d been holding in and leaned his head back into the building in relief, “Gonna walk. Literally have nothing to my name. Just my old cell phone, half charged, and this free wifi I’m using to call you. I can get there in like an hour.”

Saul told him he’d pick him up but Harry didn’t want to trouble him anymore than he had. It was already embarrassing asking for help. Plus a walk through the city would feel good. It’d been a while since he’d seen the hustle and bustle of daily life in the city.

It was late September. He was wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt with boots. At least he had a beanie on his head. His cousin lived in one of those “up-and-coming” neighborhoods. Gritty but recently gentrified. His flat was two floors up. A flimsy plastic call button for the residents hung outside the reinforced glass door that opened up to a small lobby with mailboxes in the wall to the left and just beyond that, old wooden stairs that led up to each apartment.

Saul was on floor three. Harry took the stairs two at a time and the door was already open with his smiling cousin waiting for him and then a warm embrace that made Harry feel like maybe he was going to be okay. Silly as it sounded. He hadn’t been hugged in over a year. Hadn’t felt safe and relaxed in over a year.

“Ordered some pizza from this fire spot. Should be here soon. Beer?”

Harry could cry. He hadn’t had pizza or beer in over a year either. There was a lot he hadn’t had in over a year.

“Uh, yeah. Thank you, man.”

Harry followed Saul into his tiny galley kitchen and leaned against the frame of the door as he watched his cousin pull a beer from the fridge, “And thank you for everything. For this. I really mean it. I’ll pay you back as soon as I get a job.”

Handing Harry his beer Saul laughed, “We’ll see. Alyssa and I might need help for the wedding next summer. Her dad wants to have the wedding at their place. They’ve got this nice house with a massive garden in the back. But they need people to help landscape and do some manual labor to get it ready. Might save us a little money if you could help. But that’s a ways off,” he waved his hand as he walked past Harry into the living room. “Don’t worry about it right now. I’ll figure out a way you can pay me back.”

. . .

A few nights turned into a few weeks. And Harry did find a job, but he’d need to save up for a while longer to be able to afford a place on his own. He figured, at least he could pay Saul for food and help pay some of the bills in the meantime.

Fortunately, the job he found paid pretty well. Unfortunately, it was illegal. It was what had gotten him thrown in jail in the first place.

Selling drugs. Mainly weed. Some shrooms, ecstasy, molly… party drugs.

He applied to 28 places. Twenty. Eight. Dishwasher, food prep, janitor, midnight stocker, busboy, fast food line cook… everything he could find from places that might take a chance on someone with a record. After a week of having Harry sleeping on his couch, Saul appeared to be getting frustrated. So, Harry did what he always did when he needed money (and who doesn’t need money?). He called Memo.

Memo always had a spot for Harry. And because he trusted Harry he gave him an advance.

The first thing Harry did with his money was buy some clothes for himself and groceries for the house. Getting rid of his supply was easy. He still had all his old contacts to sell to and with Harry’s natural charm, he was introduced to even more people who wanted some killer weed and Harry was their man.

Saul seemed to lighten up a bit when Harry began paying him cash for his part of the bills and to help cover some of the rent.

Being a drug dealer bought him time. Eventually, he’d find a better gig. He knew there were places that would hire felons, he just had to be patient. But in the meantime, doing shady shit to get by was necessary.

“So, I’m going out tonight. With Alyssa and a few others. Just going to Ray’s. You can join us if you want.”

Harry was sitting on the couch readying himself for another night in but maybe going out with his cousin for a few beers could be fun, “Anyone I know going?”

Saul shook his head, “Doubt it. It’ll be Alyssa, her little sister, and a few of our mutual friends.”

Harry figured it was better if the people that were going to be there didn’t know him. And besides, what better way to spend a Friday night as a single man? Sitting at Saul’s house was fine, but going out and meeting new people with a few beers in hand sounded a hell of a lot better.

Harry nodded, “Why not?”

. . .

Roy’s might have been an old hole in the wall, but it was a popular old hole in the wall. Harry could hear the music before they walked into the black brick building with the lighted, vintage metal sign that hung above the door.

The smell of stale cigarettes and beer hung in the dark space, a shiny lacquered bar that ran half the length of the room, high-top tables, two pool tables, and a few booths.

Alyssa nearly pummeled Saul, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him on the cheek as she squealed.

“We’re just over here! Tony got us a big booth 'cause he got here early.” She pulled Saul along with her. Harry followed.

The group that came into view were two young men and two young women. He barely had a chance to take it all in before Alyssa pulled his arm, “Everyone! This is Harry, Saul’s cousin. The one we were telling you about.”

The one we were telling you about. Harry knew what that meant.

Harry smiled and nodded as he slid into the booth. It was long and easily accommodated all seven of them.

“I’m Kelin,” the man he sat next to held his hand out to Harry to shake. The one next to Kelin greeted Harry, “I’m Tony,” he turned and looked at the girl next to him, “And this is my girlfriend, Dasha.” Dasha smiled and waved at Harry.

Then as Alyssa moved into the opposite side of the booth with Saul at the end she hugged the girl next to Dasha, “And this is my little sister, Y/n.”

Some moments in time are unexplainable. Like moments when things feel like fate but you don’t believe in that sort of thing. Or like when someone is speaking a language you don’t know but you swear you understood everything they just said. Sometimes it was more like a riddle you couldn’t figure out all day only to wake up in the middle of the night from a dream with the answer.

The moment Y/n set her pretty gaze upon Harry was like that for him. Something inexplicable. Something enchanting. Almost mythical.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Harry spoke as he tried to tear his eyes from the angel called Y/n. He forced his pupils away to look at everyone else but his heart was already beginning to thump violently in his chest.

Drinks were ordered and conversation resumed to wherever it was left off before Saul and Harry’s arrival.

“So, we were discussing anything but the wedding!” Dasha laughed as Alyssa moaned exaggeratedly.

“I was only letting you guys know the theme!” Alyssa laughed.

“Girl, tonight is a night off. And the wedding isn’t for like another 8 months!”

Harry tried to focus on the conversation as he sipped his beer but he couldn’t help allowing his eyes the indulgence of Y/n’s pretty face. She had some kind of clear drink. A vodka soda maybe. And when Kelin started talking about the Halloween party he was throwing Y/n’s eyes met Harry’s again and he thought he was going to fall limp to the floor in a puddle at her feet.

He didn’t even know what her voice sounded like and he was already imagining waking up next to her in the morning and getting to see her disheveled hair and warm pajamas and soft, tired eyes. He had never had such a visceral reaction to anyone before. Ever.

Another round of drinks made its way to the table and Harry hardly spoke a word. Y/n only laughed a few times at what was being said but otherwise, she remained quiet as she sipped her drink.

He needed to talk to her. He needed to learn all about her. He wasn’t sure why it felt so important, so vital to him. But every time she looked at him his throat went dry and he searched her face for any sign that she might be feeling the same odd connection that he was feeling.

“I need a cigarette,” Y/n spoke as she looked at Alyssa, making Saul and Alyssa scoot out of the booth to let her out.

Harry tapped his fingers on the table as he watched her walk past before speaking up, “Yeah, me too.” He hopped up from the booth and jogged to catch up with his dream girl before she could push the door open.

“Allow me,” he grabbed the handle and opened the door for her.

“What a gentleman. Thank you,” she grinned teasingly at him and Harry felt his head swirl and his knees go weak. She smiled at him and he was sure he was in love at that moment.

“I try,” he chuckled as he followed her to the edge of the building before she pulled out her pack of cigarettes. Harry liked the same brand.

He pulled out his lighter and held it out as she put the filter between her lips. The flame lit the tip and then Harry put his own cigarette into his mouth and lit it.

“You have good taste,” Y/n gestured with her cigarette toward his and watched his mouth as he inhaled the smoke into his lungs.

“Guess we both do,” he blew the smoke out and it mixed with the smoke she blew out at the same time.

“Heard you recently got out of jail. Alyssa told me to keep my distance,” she laughed as she took another puff, her eyes on his.

“Yeah. Trying to keep on the straight and narrow now. Jail sucks,” he let his gaze wander over her lips and jawline and down to her neck, “I’m not that bad, though. You gonna get in trouble with your big sister for having a smoke with me?”

She snorted (which Harry found adorable and irresistible) and shook her head, “I’m an adult. She tries to act protective and tough but she knows better than to tell me what I can and can’t do. In fact,” she took a drag and lowered her gaze to Harry’s outfit and then back up to his eyes before exhaling, “When she tells me not to do something it just makes me want to do it more.”

Harry felt his face grow warm as he listened to her speak and couldn’t help the smile that took over his face, dimples winking awake in his cheeks.

“Oh shit,” she leaned into the brick and crossed an arm over her middle, one arm angled out with the cigarette propped between her two fingers, “You’ve got dimples.”

Harry ashed his stick, keeping the smile on his face, “I guess I do. Is it okay?”

Y/n laughed softly, the prettiest sound Harry had ever heard, and nodded, “Of course it’s okay. It’s adorable.”

“Adorable…” Harry repeated as he leaned his shoulder into the brick and faced Y/n, “Think I’m adorable?” He pulled his lips into his mouth, tamping his wide smile as he blushed. Yeah, he was blushing.

She reached her hand up to his shoulder-length hair to tug at a curl, “You are. Pretty curls, green eyes, dimples. I get why Alyssa didn’t want me to get mixed up with you. An adorable bad boy. Dangerous combo.”

Harry shook his head and looked down at her feet before winding his pupils up her frame to her face, “Bad boy? Nah, not really. Just made some stupid decisions.”

Y/n shrugged and pulled at her cigarette before blowing out the hot smoke, “Mmm….” She pursed her lips and squinted at him, “You’re definitely a bad boy. You kind of emanate that persona. And I bet you use those dimples to charm all the ladies.”

Harry chuckled and looked down again to give his retinas a break from her breathtaking beauty. When he looked back at her he shook his head slowly, “If anything you’re the charmer. Making me blush over here.”

She giggled and leaned her head back as she looked up into the sky. Harry was not going to be getting over her laugh. He knew he’d be dreaming about it too.

“I’m just honest is all. Not particularly charming I don’t think.”

Harry shook his head and pointed at her, “No. You are definitely charming. Sweeping me right off my feet.”

“Oh, I am? Falling for me already, Harry?” She smirked at him and turned her body to face his, mimicking his stance.

Was it too soon for him to fall for her? Yes. But Harry was never one to play by usual timelines. He grinned and licked his lips, “Be bad if I said I was?”

She puffed out a laugh, “Probably would be bad. You don’t even know me. I’m really not all that great. Lots of issues. Very unstable,” she laughed as she gestured at her head and then wrapped her lips around the filter to inhale.

“If that’s the case, then you’re just that much cuter,” Harry parted his lips to place the cigarette between them as he kept his eyes on hers.

She bit her lip and turned to look out into the street, “You gonna go to the Halloween party next week?”

Harry shook his head, “Probably not. Wasn’t invited. Don’t like to dress up for shit like that anyway.”

“Hmm… If you go I’ll go,” she turned to look at him and raised her brows.

Harry stitched his brows together and tilted his head, “Are you serious?”

She nodded, “Sure. Why not. Wasn’t planning on going either but I will if you do.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her and grinned, “Still wasn’t invited, though. We’ll see.”

Y/n tossed her butt down to the ground and stepped over the tip to crunch out the burning end, “Probably should get back in there. Alyssa’s gonna think we’ve run off together. That’d really get her going.”

Harry chuckled and followed suit with his own cigarette and nodded before following her back to the booth in the bar.

This time, as luck would have it, Harry scooted into his original spot and Y/n sat down next to him at the end.

“I wish you wouldn’t smoke,” Alyssa frowned at Y/n and Harry leaned forward to put his elbows on the table as he turned to look at Y/n’s profile. She was certainly stunning.

Y/n shook her head and looked at Dasha, “Will you pass my drink down?”

Harry looked down at his lukewarm beer and pushed himself into the seat, his back hitting the vinyl cushion behind him before turning his head to watch as Y/n drank from her glass.

Everyone at the table resumed their conversation but both Harry and Y/n were thinking about the way their thighs were pressed together and how warm it felt. How nice it was.

“You’re staring,” she whispered with a grin as she set her glass down on the table and turned slightly to see the limn of his outline in her peripheral.

He grinned as he leaned his shoulder into hers as he spoke quietly, “Can’t help it.”

Harry tried to be as subtle as possible with everyone around but his skin was tingling in delight any time she shifted to pick up her glass her thigh ran against the stretch of his jeans. He regretted that he couldn’t stare into her beautiful eyes but he loved her nearness. The smell of her perfume and her shampoo.

“So, Harry,” Tony spoke up, “What do you do for fun?”

Harry was caught off guard. He’d been far too focused on the girl next to him that he nearly forgot he might need to participate in a conversation.

He laughed and looked at Saul and then to Tony, “I like music a lot. Um… reading. I don’t know,” he shrugged.

“He used to be in a band. Plays guitar and sings. He can play almost any instrument actually,“ Saul chimed in.

Harry rolled his eyes when everyone began to ask questions. He didn’t enjoy talking about himself because then that wound up leading to discussing his time in jail. Thankfully no one brought it up, though he was sure everyone already knew anyway. Saul wasn’t exactly discreet.

When the bill was paid after everyone threw down some cash, Y/n slid out of the booth with Harry right behind her, “Can I have your number?” He spoke so only she could hear as he brushed his fingers against hers.

She stopped and turned toward him, a mischievous grin on her face, “I’ll give you my number if you come to the party next weekend.”

Everyone began to walk to the door and Y/n turned to leave but Harry wasn’t done. He felt his heart walloping in his chest as he hastened his steps after her, pulling at her hand as stealthily as possible, “I can’t just crash a party I wasn’t invited to.”

When they stepped outside Y/n moved to the side to let everyone walk past and she looked up at Harry, “If you don’t come then you don’t get my number. It’s up to you.”

Harry swallowed as he looked down at the pretty girl in amazement, “Fine. I’ll be there.”

She smiled sweetly and raised her hand to poke at his dimple, “I know you will.”

NEXT PART (link goes to Patreon)

I hope you enjoyed part 1! This is the only part I'll be posting on Tumblr. If you want more check out my Patreon 💕

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55sturn · 9 months ago

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✮ SWALLOWIN’ MY PRIDE

series masterlist!

pairing: boston bruins player!chris sturniolo x fem!reader!

synopsis: in which chris is forced to swallow his pride as he comes to terms with the new that y/n has shared, realizing it’s not just her fault. however when he mentions the alternatives, he fails to see how much it hurts his girlfriend.

warnings: swearing, angst, chris not wanting a kid, verbal arguments, big talks about abortions and giving the kid up for adoption, mentions and descriptions of vomiting, a loooot of angst tbh.

important things to note: this is a heavy chapter so please keep that in mind if you choose to keep reading, i’ve done my part and have warned you about what this chapter entails so please do yours and close out of this fic if you cannot handle those topics. i am not your mother i cannot stop you, but if you choose to keep going despite being uncomfortable with the things i’ve warned you about, you are not allowed to get upset with anyone but yourself. enjoy<3

THIRD PERSON POV

chris was left utterly speechless as he stared at the thin plastic stick in his hand. the only thing running through his mind, was “what am i going to do? i just signed the contract today?” he felt guilty being so absorbed in his doubts about his career but it was something he had worked for his entire life. he knew his concerns were selfish, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop worrying about them.

the words “we’re pregnant, chris.” rang in his ears like a bell chiming, he felt his breath get stuck in his throat and he wasn’t able to breathe. he quickly shifted y/n off his lap so he could begin pacing, he held his head in his hands as his skates clunked against the padded locker room floor.

“what the fuck are we going to do y/n?” chris spits, his voice broken and unsteady as he looks at his girlfriend, her eyes red with unshed tears as she shook her head softly and shrugged.

“i don’t know chris.”

“why weren’t you careful?” chris exclaims, unintentionally putting all the blame on her as her head snaps up, her brows furrowed tightly as she breathes out a listless laugh.

“how is this all my fault?”

“i’m not saying it’s your fault. but why didn’t you just get an abortion?”

“in case you forgot what you were taught in fifth grade health class, it takes two people to make a baby, chris. you were the one that wanted to hit it raw and you promised to pull out but clearly you didn’t. and i didn’t want to abort it without your input because this child is half of you, too. and i would not be able to sit through that alone!“ she scoffs, tears dripping down her cheeks as she stares up at him, guilt and regret chipping away at the slight glimmer of hope that chris would be okay with it that she held.

“i just signed a good contract baby, i can’t miss my games for this shit.” chris sighs, his heart rate slowing down, but his mind was still racing, leaving him blind to the internal battle his girlfriend was facing.

he felt sick, he had everything mapped out for the next five years and this baby completely threw a wrench in everything that he had meticulously planned. there was no way a baby this early in his career would look good, it’d make him look reckless and uncaring about his job.

“do you not think i’ve been thinking about that, chris? that’s the only thing i’ve been thinking about since i found out or even had the slightest idea i was pregnant, i have been terrified of derailing the life plans you’ve set up for yourself and i don’t know what the fuck to do but what i do know, is that we’re pregnant and we have to make a decision about this. so until you’ve processed this, you can stay with one of your brothers, i will be waiting at home.” y/n replies, her voice gradually getting quieter and breaking even more as she finishes. wiping her tears, she quickly exists the room, the need to vomit overcoming her.

her mind wouldn’t stop racing. it brought every possible scenario to the surface and she was beyond scared. what was she going to do? chris sure as hell didn’t seem to want the baby, and she thought she didn’t either but talking about it to chris had her realizing that she wants a family more than anything.

as she knelt in front of the toilet, she couldn’t help but laugh internally. finding out you’re expecting a child was supposed to be a joyous and happy time. finding out that you’re carrying a life that is half of yourself and the person you’re in love with, the person you’re fully committed to for life, was supposed to have you feeling over the moon. and instead, it had y/n’s stomach twisting with guilt, regret, heartache, and distress.

ash she wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet, she sat on the edge of it, letting her tears fall as she let the feelings of hopelessness and loss fully consume her heart. would she really see this pregnancy to term if chris didn’t want anything to do with her and the baby? if she did, would she let chris back into her life when he decides he wants a family? or would he seek a family somewhere else?

“how the fuck am i going to survive this without him?” she whispered to herself, quickly exiting the public washroom and making a beeline for the front entrance.

chris on the other hand, was stoic as he stared at the wall opposite of him, the thin plastic stick beside him taunting him and his mind, almost as if it was telling him that he was acting selfishly. instead of comforting his girlfriend, who was as equally terrified of their recent news as chris, if not more? he blamed her. he yelled at her.

he callously told her to abort their baby to be. to get rid of the life growing inside her as if it meant nothing. as if it wasn’t the product of two people that loved each other deeply. even if it wasn’t planned or considered, that child to be was still the result of chris and y/n’s love. of the fact that they held each other so closely that they made love without any preventative measures. but chris couldn’t look at it that way, he didn’t want to.

his focus was on his career, hockey was everything to him. it made him everything he is. but was hockey really the only thing that mattered to chris? as he mulled over the answer, images of y/n sobbing as she held the freshly positive test, of her sobbing and scared in front of him waiting for him to pull her into his arms in the middle of that locker room flash through his mind. he felt guilty, he hadn’t even hugged her as she sobbed, he so badly wishes he could rewind the clock a few minutes so he could react differently but he couldn’t.

he knew he wanted a family at some point in his life, but now? it was so early. he wanted to bask in all the glory of being the newest and youngest star on the bruins without the responsibilities of his personal life hanging over his head. but that wasn’t possible.

as his team made their way down the hall, chris shoved the test into the side pocket of his hockey bag and plastered a fake smile on his face. the team cheered and hollered as they had won the game. chris joined in on the festivities, briefly forgetting the decision he had to make as the team got dressed in their suits and dress clothes, deciding to hit the bar in the lounge above the rink nd celebrate their win and landing bracket in the playoffs.

y/n was in the complete opposite state, she sat at the table, the meal she had prepped hours ago as soon as she got home after leaving the game early sat on the table in front of her. it had grown cold and stale as she tried to bring the urge to eat to life but she couldn’t bear the thought of choking back her food. she hated eating without chris. she knew he wasn’t going to join her after she told him to stay with one his brothers, but out of pure muscle memory she made a plate for him and it sat across the table from her, taunting her, as if to say “this is what your future will look like if chris decides he doesn’t want the baby.” and it broke her heart into a million shards.

could she really handle a life without him? they’ve been together for so long as it is. was it worth it to go through everything that they have already, just for a child to tear them apart? she didn’t know the answer to that and she didn’t want to. she hoped that somehow, chris’ mind would change and he would have this great epiphany and realize he wants this, the family life with y/n.

she knew how important this spot on the bruins’ team was to chris, she knew that more than anybody else. but was it more important than a life with the woman he called his soulmate? was his career more important to him than his relationship?

y/n, truthfully, had began to believe it was. he would call off dates and anniversary dinners to go hang out with the team, he would come home late the nights he promised to be home early. he put so much of their time together on the back burner, and maybe this child was the wake-up call she needed. maybe she wasn’t cut out for the life of dating a superstar hockey player.

sighing, she cleared the plates off, putting the leftovers in an air-tight container and leaving them for her or, hopefully, chris to eat another day. she quickly loaded the dishwasher and started it before cleaning the rest of the kitchen. as she had finished, she flicked off the main kitchen light, leaving the light above the stove on so that when chris came home, if he had made up his mind yet, he wouldn’t be surrounded by complete darkness. but she knew in the back of her mind, chris coming home tonight was just wishful thinking.

as she laid in bed, she scrolled through instagram, chris’ story updates catching her eye. pressing down on his profile circle surrounded by a pinkish purple ring, she was met with the sight of chris and john shot gunning beer in their suits, leaving her slightly hurt that instead of talking about things with her or his brothers he chose to party with his team. she knew that making an appearance at the after parties was important, she had just hoped their situation was more important. but refusing to let herself dwell on what she meant to chris, she rolled over and willed herself to sleep.

it had been a few days since her confession to chris and she had yet to hear even just a single word from him. and the silence was killing her. after her doctors appointment, which confirmed that she was in fact two months along, she had received texts of congratulations and more from his family so she assumed he had said something and maybe he wasn’t completely ashamed of what was happening, but she had a gnawing feeling of doubt in her stomach telling her that wasn’t the case.

“matt i don’t know what to think.” chris sighed, looking to his more level-headed brother for advice in this situation.

“well chris, do you really want her to abort it? like can you live with the fact that you’re putting her through that, you know that she’s completely all for it, but it’s different when it’s the one going through it. so would you be able to live with the fact that you’re pushing her to take away this chance, both of yours and hers, at a family right now?”

“well when you put it that way-“

“and who’s to say that you won’t be looking at having a family the same way down the line if, let’s say, she aborts the baby now and this entire thing happens again? would you put her through it twice? when you could just as easily implement all the later plans with your career that included a family into your plans for now. it would be much easier to maneuver things around right because the ink on your contract has barely dried yet. you do it later down the line and shit could go up in flames. but if you’re still dead set on pushing her to an abortion, by all means do it. it’s up to you man but from the way you’ve talk about it, y/n wants to have a family so what you’re doing is most likely killing her, and if you pushing her to do this wrecks your relationship, you won’t find another girl to love you the way she does. and i know you didn’t actually ask for it, but my opinion is that you’re being a fucking idiot. you and i both know that all you’ve wanted with y/n is to raise a family. you talked about your future kids’ names with her two months into the start of your relationship. so i’m not sure why you’re doing all this shit, chris.” matt rambled, his words cutting directly into the flesh of chris’ heart, he knew matt was right. every word he spoke nothing but truth clinging to it. so why was he putting both him and y/n, mainly y/n, through all of this? sighing, chris nodded and thanked him for the advice before plucking his keys off the counter of matt’s kitchen before heading out the door and climbing into his car.

chris made quick work of driving home to y/n, he felt so unbelievably guilty for leaving her alone with her thoughts for as long as he had. as he stepped into their shared home, he felt like an intruder, he didn’t feel like himself, because in what world would chris, the same chris who is so unbelievably and irrevocably in love with y/n, push her to terminate their child? chris should’ve been ecstatic and sobbing over the news. instead he let his job cloud his judgement and focus, and he felt terrible.

“baby?” chris calls out, quickly climbing the entryway stairs and standing in the main hallway, waiting for y/n to answer.

“in here.” she calls back, her voice tired and strained from all the crying she had done. as chris rounds the corner into their room, his heart breaks at the sight of her curled up on his side of the bed in his hoodie.

“i am so sorry y/n, i’ve been an asshole.”

“i’ll say.” she whispers, shifting back to her side of the bed as chris climbs in beside her.

“i want to apologize for blaming you, it’s not your fault. and for suggesting an abortion without actually hearing what you want. if you want one, i’ll support you. i talked to matt and he made me realize what a jackass i’ve been. if you genuinely want this baby, then i do too. i love you, and i want you to be safe and happy. and if having a family makes you happy, then i’m willing to raise this baby with you because in all honesty, i do want this baby.”

“what about your career?”

“we’ll figure that out when we need to.”

“okay. i love you.”

“i love you forever and a day, y/n. i’m so sorry i’ve been so shitty, i was scared and lashed out on you when i should’ve acknowledged that you were scared too, i shouldn’t have let you deal with it on your own.” chris hums, wrapping his arms around her as she dries her tears and rest her head against his chest.

taglist: @dylsdunbar @verosivy @soursturniolo @4sturns @sturnsclutter @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @strawberrysturniolo @lustfulslxt @sturnifyed @carolsturns1 @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @cutenote @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @33sturniolo @heartz4chris @hearts4chris @evie-sturns @nicksmainbitch @gnxosblog @sturniolopepsi

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corazondebeskar-reads · 9 days ago

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fall, with you: part four - thanksgiving

Joel Miller x gn! reader

main masterlist |mini-series masterlist | prev

words: 2.3k

summary: the new world may be hell, but you still have things to be thankful for.

warnings: pre- and post-outbreak, death, cordyceps, loss, grief, outbreak day, fluff weaponized for angst

note: anything in italics is either during or post outbreak. everything else is pre-outbreak. this story is not told chronologically and skips around a lot. i'm experimenting for fun.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Nate finds you exactly where he thought he would. In the kitchen of your new home, packing your backpack.

“No,” he says bluntly. “Nope. Nuh-uh.”

You turn on your heel and stare at him. “It’s not up to you.”

“Was he abusive?”

You’d fine back to packing and freeze to look up at him again. “No. God, no.”

“So what was it? Cheated? Ran over your dog?”

“No, it wasn’t anything. It’s none of your fucking business.”

“Oh, fuck you,” he spits, knocking your bag off the table.

You sneer. It’s not the first time you’ve butted heads like this. Neither of you has a great trauma response, given the whole apocalypse thing. “I decide where we go,” you snarl. “You don’t.”

“Not this time. Not when we’re finally somewhere safe. Somewhere normal. I have never questioned you, I’ve never even complained. Just followed you across the goddamn country. But unless you have a good fucking reason, like he’s some psycho ex—“

“He was the love of my fucking life,” you snap.

“I mean it, sugar. I know it seems like I’m bein’ impulsive but I swear I got a ring waitin’ back home,” Joel said, thumb stroking your cheek as his hand cradled your face, thick fingers warm and gentle against it. “I ain’t ever been more serious. You’re the love of my fuckin’ life. Say yes, baby. Marry me.”

“What’ll Sarah say?” You blurt.

He grins, crooked and fond. “See, that’s what I mean.” He kisses you, slow and tender, and you melt into it, almost forgetting why you’re sitting on the ground in tears to begin with.

“Whaddya say, sugar? You gonna be mine? Gonna make us a family?”

As if you could say anything else. “Yeah, Joel,” you murmur, “I’ll marry you. Of course I will.” You wait a beat. “You really got a ring back home?”

“Sure do. Whole speech planned out ‘n shit, too. But I couldn’t fuckin’ wait anymore.”

You let out a shaky laugh, a crooked grin of your own. “Y’ain’t supposed to get me gifts on your birthday.”

He puts on a fake pout. “You’re my gift, baby,” he says, lip twitching as he fights the smirk.

You shove him away playfully. “Gross. You old sap.”

He laughs, head tipped back. “What can I say? It’s all for you, sugar.”

You’re horrified to find tears burning in the corner of your eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” you mutter.

But he’s right. He’s right, he’s right, he’s right. You can’t drag him back out into the wilderness, to another failing QZ, to inevitable death. This is a town, a community, a home.

A chill is just starting to settle over Jackson, the hint of a frost in the early morn, when Tommy Miller turns up on your porch.

You open the door after several beats of insistent knocking, and the man stands there in the flesh and blood, looking just the same but twenty years and a lifetime older.

“Does my brother know you’re here?” he says, eyes as wide as the early November moon.

“Who’re you? Does my brother know you’re here?”

You let out a strangled cry and spun around, sponge raised as if it would frighten the intruder. But you recognize him from the photos all around the house and relax, grimacing as soapy suds drip down your arm. “Nah, I like to break into houses and do the dishes,” you drawl. “You must be Tommy.” You introduce yourself and realization dawns on his face.

You fumble for a towel to dry your hand before proffering it. He takes it and matches your firm handshake before scratching the back of his neck, looking sheepishly to the side in a mirror of his older brother.

You can’t say anything. Your mouth gapes open, but nothing comes out. It really is him. Not that you really doubted it, because the evidence was kind of indisputable, but there he is. The man that was to be your brother in law getting mud all over your porch.

Finally, you just shake your head, stepping aside to let him in the house.

He comes in and starts pacing, tracking clods around the living room.

“Tommy Miller, you take your goddamn shoes off in my house,” you scold.

He freezes and looks up at you. “Jesus Christ,” he whispers, and suddenly you’re being smothered, stifled in the bulk of his jacket as he wraps his arms around you. “ Jesus Christ.”

Nate chooses that moment to clomp down the stairs like a herd of horses. “Is that him? Damn, he’s not your type at all.”

You start to laugh. It sneaks up on you, silent at first, shoulders shaking, until it’s bubbling out of you. Maybe it’s a little hysterical, but you’re allowed, you think.

There’s a plan. Tommy insists. As much as you’d like to pretend you can avoid running into Joel, the fact is that this town is small and collaborative. You can’t avoid anyone.

So. There’s a plan.

Tommy breaks the news to him gently at their weekly dinner. Ellie comes by later to swap comics with Nate and reports that Joel had stood up and left, bypassing his jacket and going straight out the door. No expression, no words, nothing.

It could have been worse. You expect fully that he doesn’t want to see you, doesn’t want any reminders of before. Of Sarah. And truth be told, you’re not that thrilled to have been forcibly dragged down memory lane, either.

But Tommy’s a persistent bastard, and so it happens anyway. He calls your name, flagging you down as you stand with your tray in the mess hall, looking for a seat. The man sitting across from him whips around, head turning so fast you can almost hear his neck crack.

Where Tommy Miller has grown into the apocalypse with relative ease, the same cannot be said of his brother. Joel wears each year, each loss, each kill in the lines of his face, the cold of his eyes, the set of his jaw. You stare for a moment into the hazel eyes that used to crinkle with laugh lines, that used to darken with hunger in the deep night, that used to be your safe space.

But there’s none of that now. The wrinkles on his face speak of more stress than a human body should reasonably endure. His eyes darken with something so anachronous to your Joel that you can’t even identify the feeling. And there’s no mistaking them for anything soft or safe. The lips that used to map every inch of your body are twisted in a scowl.

You don’t realize your hands are shaking until your drink spills, knocking you out of his thrall. Abandoning your tray on the nearest surface, you bolt.

Born and raised in QZs, it became painfully apparent that Nate was terrified of animals. And seeing how that wasn’t really sustainable in a town like this, you’ve taken to slowly introducing him to the fluffier, nicer critters. But now it’s time.

You’ve got to teach him to ride.

Horses are the worst. They’re big and tall and wrong , he says, like someone was trying to put them together and kept messing up but was too lazy to fix it. “And they know too much,” he adds, standing four feet away as you saddle up the gentlest mare in the stable.

You snort. “The fuck does that mean?”

“Look at their eyes. Their cold, dead eyes. They know things. Secrets.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure. They know secrets. My dad’s horse knew a secret,” you say with a conspiratorial grin. “He used to wait until my daddy turned his back and then he’d pick up his Coke between his big teeth and throw his head back.”

Nate stops in his fretting. “Your dad’s horse drank Coke?”

“Yep. Little conniving sneak, he was. Absolute troublemaker. But Penny here ain’t gonna give you a lick of trouble.”

It’s not long before he’s comfortable in the saddle, if not thrilled about it. When you finally join him on horseback, you’re a little more nervous than you want to admit. It’s been twenty years, after all.

But it feels familiar. “Just like riding a bike,” you mutter.

“Maybe I’m not the expert since I’ve never been on a bike, but like logistically, this has to be very different,” Nate says.

After your ride, you send him off while you untack and groom the horses. You’ve hung up the reins and are reaching for a brush when someone else’s hand bumps yours. “Oh, sorry,” you start instinctively and recoil when Joel pulls his gloved hand back sharply.

It’s too much, in the little tack room, this close, this distant.

Joel’s eyes on you, taking you in and trying to parse the you now from the you then.

Joel’s eyes on you, roaming, craving.

Joel’s beard scratching against his glove as he rubs his chin.

Joel’s beard scratching against your belly on his way down.

Joel, with you, in a barn, sweaty after a long ride, bundled up against the creeping winter.

Your head is spinning. You take a staggering step back, wavering.

You wake up on a cot in the clinic.

Nate’s sat in a chair by your side, picking at his nail beds and trying not to look worried. He relaxes minutely before getting pissed when you confess to the doctor that you haven’t been eating much. You don’t keep much at home, nobody really does, and you’ve been avoiding the mess hall for reasons that you don’t need to say out loud.

They let you go with a scolding about the dangers of doing activities without proper nutrition, like you don’t know that, like you haven’t been starving in the wasteland like the rest of them at some point.

Tommy stops by with a frankly absurd amount of soup. “Heard you had a little fall today,” he says.

“Whole town know I’m a klutz now?” you joke half-heartedly.

He gives you a look. “Nah. A big grumpy birdie told me.”

You cringe.

“Look,” he says with a sigh. “Come by our place for the harvest, okay?”

“Come ‘round our place for Thanksgiving,” Joel says.

“I can’t intrude,” you protest.

“Ain’t intruding on anything, baby. We want you there. But I gotta warn you, we do things a little different. It ain’t your regular Thanksgiving fixins, okay?”

“What?”

“We’re doin’ a harvest dinner. Kinda like Thanksgiving. There’ll be a lunch at the mess on Thursday but we’re havin’ family ‘round that night.” He sees you open your mouth and keeps going, ignoring you. “I don’t want to hear it. And just so you know, he suggested the invite. So.”

And then Tommy leaves you with more questions and more soup than you know what to do with.

On Thursday, you drag your sorry ass to the mess hall for the lunch, determined to give Nate another holiday experience. You didn’t need to work yourself up, though, as Joel is nowhere in sight.

You wish you had thought earlier to ask what to bring, but it’s been a long time since you’ve dined at someone else’s table, and food ain’t been for sharing in just as many years.

“What should I bring, if it ain’t traditional?”

He thinks for a moment. He wants to tell you to bring your sexy self and nothin’ more but he knows you won’t go for it. “Bring popcorn,” he says finally.

You had. And you do. Cooked on the stove the old-fashioned way. It’s a risk, god, you know it’s a risk. But you walk into Tommy’s house with a heaping bowl of lightly buttered popcorn.

You walk into Joel’s house with a heaping bowl of butter-laden, salty popcorn, and Sarah cheers. She takes a handful before retreating deeper into the house where Tommy is setting the table and Joel is in the kitchen, hard at work over the… toaster. There’s a stack of buttered toast on a platter beside him and he’s adding to the pile.

“Hey, sugar,” he says, pulling you by the waist into his space, chasing your lips with a kiss. “Thanks for bringin’ the popcorn. Ain’t Thanksgiving without it.”

“If you say so,” you say. “Where do you want it?”

“On the table is fine,” he says.

It takes you a minute, as you stand in Joel’s dining room, staring at the eccentric assortment of what can loosely be defined as dinner. There are a few bowls out, overflowing not with stuffing or mashed potatoes or casserole. No, there’s little pretzel twists and what looks like candy. You set the popcorn down in an empty spot and it unlocks in your brain with a snap.

You turn on your heel and go back in the kitchen. For a moment, you’re distracted by the scene in front of you. Joel and Sarah are delicately swirling whipped cream in excess atop strawberry ice cream, taking turns squirting some in their mouths in between and then scolding one another playfully.

“Are we having a Charlie Brown Thanksgiving?” you ask.

Sarah beams. “I told you she’d get it,” she tells her dad.

Joel opens the door at Tommy and Maria’s. He looks down at the bowl in your hands, and you suddenly think you’ve made a terrible mistake. There’s a taut, hefty silence where you’re both just staring at the bowl.

He moves, both hands up toward you in a jerky, sudden motion that has you flinching back. It doesn’t deter him. It was like the action was pressed behind a coil and now that it snapped, he can’t stop. Newton’s Law, and all that.

His rough, calloused palms engulf either side of your face, his chapped lips smashing against your unexpecting ones. Your heart could be halfway to Dallas by sundown with how fast it’s galloping in your chest. It only takes a moment before your hands are on him, too.

“C’mon, not over the popcorn,” Nate gripes, snatching the bowl away and going inside to find Ellie, leaving you in Joel’s embrace.

the end

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller fic #the last of us fic #tlou fic

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emberwritesinsight · 10 months ago

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(Ramble below, not very structured)

I'm watching episode 9 again and losing my mind over the scene where Saionji fucking kidnaps Anthy because. I forgot how actually upset Anthy is?

Like. The way Anthy is fucking shouting as Saionji drags her up to the arena. The way she tries to physically stop him from getting in! What the fuck!

The way he just bats her out of the way and we get a shot of her from behind, kneeling on the ground with a hand to her face, but we don't see her face. That's... not normal! Most of the time when Anthy gets slapped in the early series, we get a shot of her afterwards with a bruise.

Here, we don't see her face. But we can see that she's shaking, and the first-watch assumption would be that she's crying, but... I'm not inclined to view it that way given everything that happens after.

The way I read it, Anthy is pissed.

The next time we see Saionji, he's face down in the water. How did he get there? We don't see. On a first viewing, one might just assume that's a negative reaction the arena has to being opened at an inappropriate time- along with all the crazy shit going on inside the arena once Utena gets there. But given Anthy is later shown to have more control over what the arena does than she lets on, and noticeably does her flashiest magic (the sword pull, the transformations) in or on her way to the arena, I think Anthy is behind almost all of that. And I'd say she's also behind the Saionji-almost-drowning bit. You guys might remember the half-joking drawing I made of Anthy, uh, dragging Saionji into the water by his hair, and while she might not have gotten as hands-on about it as that drawing suggests, I still think she's responsible.

So, like... why?

Why does this piss her off so much? I mean, sure, Saionji absolutely has it coming, but Anthy's been through worse. She clearly doesn't like Saionji and messes with him whenever possible, but to attempt murder and then set up an elaborate illusion designed to upset him as much as possible is... a little extreme. I don't think she even goes that far with Nanami, unless you consider the elephants to be legit murder attempts (which I do not- I think that was Anthy scaring Nanami, not trying to kill her, because I can't believe Nanami would survive that many encounters with elephants that actually wanted her dead).

I think the answer is that, for all the shit she takes from the duelists, Saionji is one of the only ones who breaks this many rules. Not only does he mistreat her when they're engaged- something she's used to, but that seems to be at least frowned upon, if not outlawed (given Touga felt the need to call a "stop hitting your girlfriend" meeting in episode 1)- he mistreats her afterwards. He refuses to let her go, he acts as if she still owes him something. And then he goes and pulls this. He kidnaps her, takes her to the arena without a duel scheduled, and tries to enter the arena- all things that are against the rules of this stupid game that Anthy, however much she knows it is a stupid game, lives her whole life around. And he tells her End of the World is responsible, which Anthy knows isn't true, because if Akio were planning something this batshit, she'd know about it! Of course she's angry, this goes well beyond the threshold of nonsense her job usually entails!

I don't know if she was aware of Touga's plan to play the hero for Utena and get Saionji expelled- if so, she obviously wasn't aware of all of it. The freakout on the way up to the arena is too intense for me to read it as anything but genuine. She's shaking with effort trying to stop Saionji from opening the gate. Things do fall perfectly into place for Touga to get between Saionji's sword and a defenseless Utena, but I honestly think Touga's plan may have been to just...

1) Impersonate End of the World and tell Saionji the castle is coming down, this will incentivize him to go up there and break the rules.

2) Tip Utena off that Saionji has kidnapped Anthy.

3) The castle doesn't come down, upsetting Saionji and heating up his inevitable confrontation with Utena enough that he tries to kill her and Touga can step in at the perfect moment.

4) Profit.

I don't think he knew Anthy was going to Do That. For one, the plan was to get Saionji expelled, not kill him- Anthy's stunt there could have ruined the entire plan if Utena hadn't dragged Saionji out of the water. And Touga is drinking the "Rose Bride doesn't have feelings" juice. Evidently, he doesn't put two and two together after this, because he's still beating that drum in episode eleven!

I don't think Akio knew much about this either. Touga is telling him about it over the phone, so Touga didn't tell him, and Anthy didn't know, so she couldn't have either. I think he probably got woken up in the middle of the night by all the chaos and had to dial Touga up after the fact to ask him what the fuck was going on.

#revolutionary girl utena #shoujo kakumei utena #rgu #sku #anthy himemiya #himemiya anthy #kyouichi saionji #saionji kyouichi #touga kiryuu #kiryuu touga #akio ohtori #ohtori akio #utena spoilers

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eucalyptus-lvs · 3 months ago

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Carmen Berzatto’s Night Off - Carmen Berzatto x Reader

I would have had this out earlier, but I got hung up on a two-parter that I’m putting out in the fall. The platform is still pretty new to me so I’m still learning as well. This could be in the same universe as my last two or a stand-alone. I’m trying to think of a nickname or smth to use in place for this series without putting an actual name so it’s still immersive for everyone. I was also thinking about doing requests if it’s smth that has interest so if anyone has thoughts on either feel free to lmk. As always any thoughts or constructive criticism are appreciated! Thank you to everyone who has read and supported me. Love you all! - Elli🌿

TW: None.

A knock sounds at the office door, startling Carmy before it slowly open.

“Hey.” You call to him, walking over.

“Hey, what’s up?” Attention turning back to the papers in front of him, arm circling your waist. He squeezes your hip as you stand beside him while remaining in his chair.

“Just wanted to come see you before the day starts.” You lean down to place a kiss to the top of his messy curls. “Getting some paperwork done?”

He moves his arm to run both hands down his face in frustration before settling them in his lap. “That and the menu Syd’s pushin’ for.” Tipping back in his chair with a heavy sigh.

You lean back against the desk to face him, crossing your arms. “Shouldn't you be working on the menu Syd wants…with Syd?” Questioning what, to you, seemed obvious.

“Yeah, I will. I just wanna get some general ideas down and go from there.” he shrugged.

You lock eyes with him, expression showing you think he's full of shit. “You know this does nothing for your control freak allegations, right?” you laugh.

“I'm not a control freak. I just want everything to go well. It has to if Syd wants her star.”

Tilting your head with an endearing look, you grab his hand in yours. “I know you do, but maybe you should give yourself a break. Take a night off.”

He scoffed. “I can’t just take a night off. There’s too much that needs to get done. This fuckin’ paperwork, the menu, makin’ sure the deliveries are comin’ in and that those deliveries are actually what we fuckin’ ordered and-” He ranted, getting increasingly frustrated with each task mentioned.

“Fine, fine.” You squeeze his hand as a way to gain back his attention but also ground him as he spirals. “I get it, but you can leave on time for once. You get here early and you stay later than anyone else.”

“Because I'm running it.” he interjects.

“And the place won't cease to exist if you leave with everyone else. C’mon, just one night, and tomorrow you can dive head-first back into the neurosis. I'll even come in early with you and help if it'll make you feel better.” You plead with your best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

“Don't look at me like that, Sweetheart. Please.” He tries looking away only for you to huff like a child trying to get their way.

“You are in need of some serious rest and recovery. Slow down a bit. Enjoying your life won't kill you.”

“Baby, c’mon. I gotta try and figure out these recipes or I'll get behind a-and everything will get derailed-”

“Okay, Cameron Frye.” You roll your eyes, mocking him. “I swear, your mind goes straight to the worst-case scenario every time.” Releasing his hand and turning to flip through some of the papers on the desk.

“Who?” He looked confused, shaking his head.

“Cameron Frye. Ferris Bueller's Day off? The best friend.” Focusing on what you think are the beginning sketches of a dish.

“Never seen it.” He said flippantly, going back to looking through the files.

Your eyes shot back up to look at him. “What?! How have you not seen it? Isn't old stuff your whole thing?”

“Vintage is not my whole thing.” He corrects. “I just like it. And I'm talkin’ about denim, not an era as a whole. I barely consume current media. Let alone somethin’ that came out 4 decades ago.”

“Oh, come on. You're missing out. The 80s had some of the greatest movies ever made. The practical effects of horror were unmatched. The love stories were iconic. Not to mention all the feel-good nostalgia. Which, not to be that girl, with your attitude you could probably use in your life.” You ramble on.

“Ouch.” Throwing his hands up slightly in mock offense.

You sigh, feeling as though you’re fighting a losing battle. “Okay, how about a trade? Tonight we go back to my place and have an awesome 80s double feature. You can cook whatever you want for us to enjoy it with. Call it practice for the menu.”

“I can cook anything?” He asked skeptically, crossing his arms.

“Yes, as long as you agree right now to two movies. I pick. No backing out.” You stuck out your hand with a pointed look. Giving the impression of a serious transaction.

If he was being honest, he found it quite cute.

“Okay.” He took your smaller hand in his, sealing the deal.

A smile takes over your serious expression, so wide your face aches.

“Okay! You make plans for dinner and I'll think about what we’ll watch.” Nodding your head as you move back towards the door, making your way out of the office to complete the necessary tasks before opening.

Carmy matches your smile. Happy to see you so excited. Shaking his head as his mind fills with ideas of what you might like and what is to come of the night.

______________________________________________________________

A knock sounds at the door for a second time today. Not to the office this time, but to your apartment. You race over and throw it open. “Well, hello.” You grin.

Carmy stands in the doorway, grocery bags in hand. “Hey, Sweetheart.” He presses a quick kiss to your cheek as he passes you to walk to the kitchen, immediately making himself at home as if it were second nature.

When setting the bags on the counter he sees that there are already some there. “You stopped at the store?”

“Yeah, I just had to get a few things for tonight.” You shrugged.

“You shoulda told me. I woulda picked it up for you.” He didn't like the idea of you going out of your way for him. It was something he had trouble getting used to while being with you because he never wanted to inconvenience you.

“Well, next time we'll go together. Save the trouble.” You tease. Diverting his attention by pulling him into you, wrapping your arms around his neck while his came to your hips.

You bring him in for a soft, slow kiss. The kind that made him seem to sink into you.

He likes the idea of doing something so domestic with you. He always thought he was fine with being alone.

That was until he met you.

Now a trip to the grocery store sounds like the best way he could spend an evening.

He can’t stop himself from imagining how much of the cart you’d fill with random items. You’d swear it was because you had some sort of craving, but he’d know it was more likely that you’d gone on an empty stomach and were just hungry.

Breaking the kiss, he smiles at the prospect. “Okay.” He replied sincerely.

You release him so that he can continue to unpack the groceries, standing to the side of him and watching. “So, Chef Carmen. What's on the menu?”

“Chef Carmen?” He raised an eyebrow, letting out a chuckle.

“Stop, I'm taking this seriously.” You laugh. “You need inspiration for the menu and I'm trying to simulate a good environment for that.”

“I don't think a proper simulation involves you in the old Dio shirt you like to sleep in as a uniform.” Gesturing to your attire with a teasing grin.

“Fine, forget it. What's for dinner, Bear?” You relax, crossing your arms as you lean against the counter.

“Spaghetti.”

"Spaghetti? Hardly seems like something you'd put on the menu.” You questioned, confused.

“It probably won't be on the menu.”

“I thought that was the whole point of tonight? Practicing.”

That was the point originally, but the more he thought about what you would like and how the night would go he didn't want to practice.

He wanted to take work out of the equation completely.

It was obvious you were excited about tonight and he wanted a dish to match the energy of an evening with you.

Something warm and comforting.

“I changed my mind. It’s uh- kinda a family thing. Thought you'd like it.” He tries to sound nonchalant, but it comes out unsure as he spares a glance your way.

“Spaghetti sounds great.” You said softly, a small smile gracing your face.

He has to change the subject quickly before he abandons the idea of cooking completely in favor of you.

He clears his throat as he starts prepping the ingredients for the sauce. “What are we watching?”

“Well, I wanted to pick something I thought you’d like, but since you don’t watch a lot of stuff already I had to gamble with my favorites. First is The Thing since I talked about practical effects. It’s horror, but I don’t think it’s really scary in case that bothers you. The other isss-” You pause to drum your hands on the counter.

Carmen shook his head with a smile and laughed. This is why he likes you.

One of the many reasons he likes you.

You were weird but in a good way. Having the ability to be effortlessly fun in a way he could never be.

“Ferris Bueller's Day Off!” You beamed. “An obvious choice, I know, but I figured it’s the reason we’re having this night in the first place. Plus, it kinda has a little of everything. Friendship, romance, adventure and it takes place in Chicago! A little bit of a 180 from The Thing, but hopefully you’ll like it. It was hard to narrow it down to just two.”

“I feel like this is the most I’ve ever heard you talk.” He teases with a small grin.

He can see an immediate change in your body language. Suddenly turning shy for the first time tonight. He curses himself for mentioning it in the first place.

He was good at nothing if not ruining a good thing.

“It’s easy to talk about things I like,” you take in a deep breath, fidgeting with your hands “with someone I, yknow, really like.” Moving the strands of hair that had fallen in your face as your eyes focus on the floor.

Oh.

He pauses, thoughtfully. It was often hard for him to approach direct conversations, especially ones centered around feelings. But he knew if there was ever a time to try it would be for you. “Well-uh, those sound good. Maybe we could do another night? For the other ones you had in mind.”

The olive branch is all you need to perk up. Going right back to the bubbly personality he became accustomed to with you.

“Yes! Okay, I have so many ideas. A close runner-up was The Lost Boys. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about vampires though. And Beetlejuice! Beetlejuice was a good one and I heard they’re doing a remake so we could watch both if you like it and compare-“ You continue to ramble as Carmen listens intently. Nodding along to everything you're saying as he cooks for you.

______________________________________________________________

The dishes have long been forgotten on the coffee table. Empty since the first half of The Thing.

You’ve both settled back into the couch with large blankets and at least half a dozen snacks you picked up on the way from work because you insisted that ‘people enjoy movies more with fun snacks’.

It's logic he’s not quite sure he agrees with, but when it came down to the two of you he wouldn’t claim to be the expert.

Now onto the next movie, Jennifer Grey is front and center on the screen as her character sits in the police station.

You stare ahead, almost hypnotized. “Yknow she had been in a couple things at this point, but I think I read somewhere that her role in this is what helped her get Dirty Dancing. It came out a year after.”

“Is that one you wanted me to watch? Dirty Dancing?”

He didn’t want to admit it, but he’d seen it before. It was something Sugar had played once when taking over the tv in the living room and he was forced to watch that or nothing at all. It wasn’t a movie he remembered in great detail, just that he was able to sit through it.

He was thankful Mikey and Richie weren’t around that day or he never would’ve heard the end of it.

You shrug, still transfixed by the screen. “Yeah, if you’re down for it. It would only be my second time so it’ll be pretty new for the both of us.”

“You only saw it once?” He asks curiously.

“Yeah, last month.”

He paused, looking over at you.

Sensing his gaze you turned to him and locked eyes. “What?”

“So you’re givin’ me all this shit about missin’ out on 80s pop culture when you didn't even see one of ‘em until a month ago.”

“I love the movie genre. It doesn't make me an expert! Plus, I used to get creeped out by the age gap between her and Patrick Swayze. But they do this flashback cinema thing at the movies sometimes and I thought ‘How often do people our age get to say they've seen Dirty Dancing in theaters?’ I figured if I was gonna give it a real shot I should watch it the way it was intended.” Your eyes lock back on the screen as a sheepish smile appears.

He just continues to look your way. “Did you like it?”

A grin breaks out on your face and you turn to him once again.

“I kinda loved it.” Your nose scrunching a bit. “I was wrong! I was totally wrong. The soundtrack was great. The choreography was hot. Even though the age thing creeped me out I did end up liking their relationship a lot. I mean, their chemistry was unreal. I guess you could say that about most romantic films, but I don't know… It felt different. Maybe because I built it up in my head?”

You let out a small laugh, turning back to the tv. “As soon as I left the theater I played the soundtrack and sang to it the whole way home.”

A moment passes as he looks between you and the screen.

He leans close to you, putting an arm around your shoulder, and whispers, “Nobody puts Baby in the corner.”

You turn to him so quickly he thinks you might have whiplash.

“Hey! You got one!” You giggle.

Smiling at him, you once again turned your attention to the movie. Only this time scooting closer to rest your head on his shoulder.

As the movie goes on, shared laughs and your mumblings of the dialogue can be heard filling the small apartment.

Towards the end, he goes to make a joke. When he gets no response he looks down to find you asleep on his shoulder.

Captivated by how peaceful you look, the voice of Ferris pulls him back to reality.

“Yup, I said it before and I'll say it again. Life moves pretty fast. You don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

Leaning down, he places a kiss on your forehead before laying his head against yours.

He's glad he didn't miss this.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #carmy berzatto x you #the bear x reader #the bear x you #Carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fluff

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totheblood · 2 years ago

Text

imagine me & you. (one)

pairing: modern!ellie williams x reader

summary: ellie is the florist for your wedding, and you wonder is love at first sight is real and if it is the universe hates your guts

warnings: occasional cursing, suggestive themes, angst/pining, could this be considered infidelity? maybe?, drug/alcohol usage/mention, you marry a man i apologize

a/n: AI AUDIOS AT THE END this is a series i'm writing that is completely based on the movie "imagine me and you" which is a phenomenal lesbian romcom... i would suggest that everyone watches it but i dont want the series to be spoiled for you.. this is sugar sweet fluff and i think is overall really cute. I DONT CONDONE CHEATING! this fic is.... a gray area tho so.. enjoy! I would greatly appreciate any reblogs, comments, asks you have about this chapter. thank you for supporting me through this journey!

This was the best day of your life.

The chapel was adorned with flowers, the smell of tulips heavy in the air. The streamers were hung between each seat with careful detail, just as you had planned it months ago. You could hear the quiet chatter among guests, all beautifully dressed for the occasion, and at the end of the aisle stood your best friend. This was the day your best friend became your husband.

You had met Sully in your first year of college when his best friend, Ezra, began dating your best friend, Tara. While Tara and Ezra’s relationship was short-lived, you and Sully had something nearly impossible to break. He provided a kind of comfort that only came with knowing someone as long as you had, and a promise of a life that you imagined for yourself.

You were in love with him, you knew this. This fact had never even come into question. You were sure of your decision every step of the way and you were positive that your walk down the aisle would be the easiest thing you had done in your lifetime.

The only thing that made you nervous was the fact that everyone had their eyes on you. As the doors opened and it was finally your turn to make your way down the aisle, you knew that this was the first day of the rest of your life, but not for the reasons you expected.

Prior to the start of the wedding, Ellie was already having a shit day. Her supplier hadn’t arrived with the shipment of tulips she needed for the shop that day and it was just her luck that her last batch was already loaded in the truck for your wedding. Dina had assured her that she would call and bitch out the supplier until he delivered them, but something was still unsettled in her gut. Reluctantly, she relinquished her power to Dina for the day and made her way over to your venue to set up early.

It was the silent morning that Ellie loved the most. The air was crisp with anticipation of what was about to happen, the quiet echoed chapel that would soon be filled with celebratory cheers and applause. The idea that eternal love may exist soothed her, but only temporarily.

Ellie had found herself in somewhat of a dry spell, her only intimate interactions being with her pillow. It wasn’t something that necessarily stressed her out, but it was something that she thought about often. It wasn’t that it bothered her either, she was simply growing impatient for her chance to have this kind of celebration of love. It is legal now, she reminded herself.

As the time for the wedding grew closer, Ellie found that she was in over her head. She assumed she would be able to finish decorating by the time guests started to arrive, so she could slip out unnoticed and no one would see her in her overalls, but she admittedly had paid too much attention to detail. It was no secret that she was a perfectionist, but she knew it would cost her.

Her anxiety only grew more and more as people started to arrive and sit in the aisles that she still was yet to decorate. By the grace of whatever was out there, she finished with little time to spare and had begun collecting her things but was stopped by who she assumed was a groomsman.

“Hi, you must be Ellie, the florist.” He reached out his hand, a broad smile on his face. His eyes were a stark blue and his face was perfectly symmetrical. He oozed confidence and Ellie could tell that he had never faced a day of rejection in his life. She had a feeling this was about to change.

“What gave it away? The flowers or my overalls?” She joked, reaching her gloved hand out to shake his, a polite laugh escaping from his lips.

“It was actually your indescribable beauty. I don’t know… I heard a thing about florists being hot. I’m Ezra, by the way.” Ellie wanted to scoff, throw up, do anything that would signify she wasn’t interested in the man before her, but more than that she wanted her tip.

“Wonder where you heard that. Didn’t see that article in this month's Florist’s Monthly.” She joked back, her sickly sweet grin still painted on her face.

“Well, just wanted to introduce myself. Hope you're staying for the reception?” He questioned, moving back after the pace of the room began to change. It was becoming evident the wedding was about to start and he needed to be in his place.

“It’s my job to be there so… I’ll be there.” She sighed, picked up the bucket that had scrap flowers in it, and began making her way down the side of the chapel, careful to not draw any attention to her. Ellie had never stayed this long before, she had never gotten the opportunity to watch the bride walk down the aisle and curiosity was getting the best of her. As she tried to sneak away, she attempted to get one glance at the girl about to be married.

As you made your way down the floral-lined carpet, a line was tugged on your heart. Something inside of you was telling you to look to the left. So you did. It was almost as if time stopped for a moment as you caught a glimpse of the girl. Her hair was half pinned up, little strands of hair framing her face, her lips in an adoring smile. She was all-encompassing. This is what you imagined love at first sight to feel like. It’s what you would have imagined love at first sight to feel like if it wasn’t your wedding day.

Ellie had to stop when she saw you, your beauty overwhelming her. She was sure all brides looked this beautiful on their wedding day, but she was also unsure of that at this moment. It was an almost impossible idea that someone on this earth could look more beautiful than you did at that moment. It made her heart drop to the pit of her stomach, even more so when she saw the comforting smile on your face drop as you locked eyes and you quickly turned away. Ellie assumed you hadn’t recognized her and became confused so she quickly and quietly made her way out of the venue.

When you turned back around to get one last look at her, she was gone. You were almost sure she was simply a figment of your imagination, an ethereal dream that you had hallucinated, but what you felt was real. Almost too real.

The wedding went off without a hitch, fulfilling every dream you had for yourself. As you kissed your now husband you felt a great sense of relief, the pit in your stomach from earlier being filled. Whatever feeling you felt when you and the florist locked eyes was now becoming a distant memory. The only thing you could think of was that you had done it, and completed this task. This was what love felt like. Right?

As the reception went on and the guests were full of liquor and good music, Ellie found herself wanting to introduce herself to you, as she did with every bride. She pushed past warm bodies till she found you hunched over the punch bowl, a ladle in your hands.

“Hi,” She began, causing you to drop the ladle and turn towards her. She stood with her arms by her side and a gentle smile on her face. She seemed calm. Warm. Inviting.

“Hi.” You replied, moving to stand in front of the punch bowl, a smile gracing your face.

“We- um, we haven’t met. I’m Ellie.” She introduced herself. She smiled as you simply responded with your name.

“I did your flowers.” She stated, assuming you were unsure of who she was.

“You did?” You breathed, your shoulders relaxing. “My flowers are nice.”

“Anyways, I was just going to get a-” Ellie pointed at the punch behind you, moving towards it but was stopped by your body standing moving in front of it, blocking it from her view.

“Drink.” Ellie said, suspiciously, brows furrowed in confusion as you gave her a nervous laugh.

“I wouldn’t.” You remarked through your laughs, slightly shaking your head.

“Wh- Is there something wrong?” Ellie questioned, unsure of what was happening right now. “I’m here to help.” She watched as you blinked for a second and your smile fell.

“My ring.” You told her as you turned around and picked up the ladle again, looking down into the punch. Ellie was at your side, watching as you stirred the red liquid, a smile back on your face. “I was getting some of this punch crap and-”

“Your wedding ring?” Ellie laughed, stealing a glance at your focused face.

“It fell off.” You giggled, a sound that made Ellie’s cheeks redden. “Off and in there. My wedding ring is in there.” You turned to her, the side of your lips curved downwards into an upside-down smile. You were impossibly close to her.

“And you tried the ladle?” Ellie questioned, humor in her voice.

“Nothing.” You shook your head, a huge grin still on your face.

“And you can’t empty-” Ellie shook her head, her internal monologue running rampant. “No, it's too big. Um, alright.” Ellie’s mind almost short-circuited when you laughed at her manic raving.

“Only one thing to do.” Ellie simply stated. “Cover me.”

“What?” You question, staring at her, confusion written all over your face.

“Use the dress, I’m going in.” Ellie answered, rolling up the sleeves of her shirt before pulling you by the waist in front of her. She tried not to be distracted by your consistent laughing, but reality shook her as she reached her hand into the punch bowl.

You stood in front of her keeping watch but quickly became alert when another guest began making his way over to you.

Moving to stand in front of him and Ellie, you looked up at him and gave him your friendliest smile. Clearing your throat you offered the man a polite, “Hello.”

“They say white’s the color of virgins… if I know Sully the only thing virgin around here is the olive oil.” He commented smugly, reaching next to you to pick up a plastic cup. Ellie couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she fished around in the punch. What makes this guy think he can just-

“The old jokes really are the best aren’t they?” You quipped sarcastically, a groan nearly slipping from your lips. Ellie was laughing to herself at the sound of your annoyed tone and body being in such close proximity to hers.

“I’m Dennis. Sully works underneath me but not in the biblical sense.” He reached out and shook your hand, unwarranted confidence coming off him in waves. Just at that moment, Ellie felt the circular metal between her fingertips and pulled it out victoriously.

“You’re just like he described.” You told the man, it being painfully obvious (to no one but him) that you didn’t mean that as a compliment. Behind you, Ellie shook the juice off the ring and tapped the exposed skin of your upper arm, causing you to put your left hand behind your back, right in Ellie’s view. Carefully, Ellie slipped the ring on your ring finger, its rightful place, and found herself beside you again.

“Now, I need booze.” Dennis remarked as he picked up the ladle and scooped some punch into his cup. If it was anyone else, you would have stopped him. But it wasn’t.

“Hi.” Ellie made herself known to the man.

“Hi.” He replied. Ellie tried to ignore the way he looked her up and down.

“This is Ellie.” You said, a proud smile on your face. “She’s a florist”

“Name’s Dennis. But you can call me anything you’d like.” He outstretched his hand to Ellie, a dumbstruck look on his face. Ellie’s drenched hand gripped his as if she was punishing him for his behavior.

“And I’m sure I will.” Ellie smiled, holding back her laughter as he pulled his hand away and shook the sticky liquid off his hand.

The wedding was as eventful as any wedding could be. Family members were getting drunk, Ezra was flirting with as many people as he could, and you were wrapped up in Sully’s arms. The music had mellowed out and people had found their way back to their assigned tables, ready to eat. Everyone began eating, only looking up when Sully stood up, prepared to make a speech.

You listened as he went on about how long he had waited for this day, how much he adored you, and the future he envisioned for the two of you. You wanted to relish in all the attention and love he was showering you in, but your mind continued to travel back to Ellie and the brief moment you shared with her. Ellie was most likely miles away by now, but that didn’t stop you from envisioning her there in the crowd.

You were starting to feel guilty about it too. While your husband was boasting about how you were the best thing to happen to him, you were fantasizing about the girl you had just who you were almost sure was your soulmate. There was a thickness in your throat that only grew as Ezra described how he and Ellie had ‘hit it off’ and how he was going to ask her out. It shouldn’t have upset you but you did.

The following week your mind was still on Ellie. She hadn’t reached out after the wedding, but you were also unsure of why she would do something like that. It wasn’t like there was any specific reason for her to call you, but you still waited by the phone like she would.

It felt like a regular day for Ellie, she reached the shop early and was finishing setting up. She had just opened the doors when a man had hurried in with a frantic look on his face.

“Hello.” She greeted the man, wiping the dirt from her hands on the apron wrapped around her waist.

“Hi. You’ve got to help me.” He exclaimed frantically. “I need a flower. Just one. A good one. The best!” He watched as she continued to move things around the shop.

“Okay.” Ellie said in her calmest voice, attempting to appease the man.

“This is my last chance. My last chance flower.” He told her, looking around at the various flowers on display.

“Your last chance?” Ellie questioned, finally giving her full attention to the man.

“I really fucked up. Only the right flower can save me.” He explained. “What about a rose? A red rose. What would that say?” He pointed to the basket of red roses sitting on the table.

“Love.” Ellie shrugged.

“Love’s nice.” The man thought out loud.

“And fidelity.” Ellie added.

“Not a red rose, then.” The man pushed past the roses and continued looking.

“No, not a red rose at all. It’s too obvious.” Ellie agreed with him, eager to make a sale. “If this really is your last chance we need to make it something spectacular.” Ellie moved to the other side of the shop and examined what she had in stock. There was a slight knock at the door, but Ellie didn’t look up, focused on the task at hand.

“Be right with you.” She told the unknown guest.

“That’s fine.” You spoke, your voice causing her to stand up straight. You had a pink scarf wrapped around your neck and your hair pulled back. You had this glow to you that only came with what Ellie assumed was natural beauty. Almost suddenly the air in the shop was much lighter.

“Hi.” She breathed, smiling back at you.

“Hey.”

“How are you doing?” Ellie asked.

“Good,” you shrugged your shoulders. “Great.” You corrected yourself.

“I just,” you began again but were cut off by the man making his way out the open door behind you to look at the flowers that were placed outside the shop. “Came by to say thanks.” You smiled, awkwardly putting your hands in your pockets.

“It was a total pleasure,” Ellie told you, her voice soft. She stared at you for a beat, almost forgetting what she was doing before you came in. “Listen, sorry, I’m just dealing with-” She pointed to the man outside scanning the flowers.

“Oh, of course. Go right ahead.” You blurted out, moving away from the door so she could tend to the man outside.

The man looked at you through the window, smiling upon seeing your face. “What’s your favorite flower?” He asked, making you blink at him.

“I don’t know, I think I like tulips.” You replied, giving him the kindest smile you could muster.

“They’re wrong.” He said, finger in the air as he continued to muck about. He made his way back into the store as Ellie pulled a long, colorful flower from one of the silver buckets attached to the wall.

“What about this?” Ellie asked him, showing him the exotic flower she had in her hands. “Bird of paradise.”

“Keep talking.” He instructed her.

“Real name ‘Strelitzia’. Named after Charlotte of Strelitz. She married King George the third and had 15 kids. They never spent more than an hour apart.” She explained, looking towards you to see the grin you were hiding on your face.

“Okay, stop talking.” The man said as he abruptly left the store.

“Do you want to come to dinner?” You asked her, just as abruptly.

“ ‘m sorry?” She asked, confused by the tone this conversation carried.

“Dinner, with us. Me and Sully.” You clarified, her chest deflating a little. You watched as an unreadable expression clouded her face, suddenly feeling embarrassed by the question. “I mean you don’t have to-”

“I’d love to.” Ellie cut you off, her heart blooming as she watched your smile grow.

“Really?” You asked sounding surprised. “This Friday?”

“Yeah, Friday. Why not?” Ellie nodded, unsure of why she was agreeing to this.

“Great. I’ll just write down-” You moved to write down your address on a card you saw sitting on the counter.

“Perfect!” The man from earlier screamed, walking back in with a cactus shaped like a dick in his hands. “This is the one.”

You and Ellie both couldn’t help but laugh.

Friday came around sooner than expected. You had spent the entire day cooking, dancing around the kitchen, and cleaning up the apartment. When you told Sully about the dinner party you were hosting, he decided that it would be best to invite Ezra since he and Ellie presumably ‘hit it off’ at the wedding. Admittedly, that made you want to not only pull your hair out but also Sully’s. Instead, you simply thanked him for being so thoughtful and tried your best to make it seem like you were impartial.

The place was decorated to the nines. There stood long colored candles lit on the table, new spring placemats laid out, and bright pink tulips in a vase at the center of the table. You would never say it out loud, but the tulips were there for Ellie.

You hadn’t realized how much time had passed since you began cooking, but the sun was setting and Sully was already dressed for the guests. He sauntered into the kitchen, talking about how much he hated his job and threatening to quit for the sixth time that week.

“You say that every day, baby.” You told him, stirring the pot before pulling the spoon out, swiping your finger on it, and tasting the sauce. It was perfect.

“I know, but this time I mean it.” He told you, walking up behind you and placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Do you like Ellie?” You asked randomly.

“Yeah, sure. She seems nice enough. I mean Ezra likes her.” He responded, walking around the kitchen island.

“Ezra likes anything with a pulse.” You reminded him causing him to laugh.

“That’s true.” He smiled to himself. “But if you want her to stick around why are you introducing her to him.”

“It wasn’t my idea. You know this.” You said, pulling the breadsticks out of the oven.

“Oh, right.” was all he said before he popped a grape into his mouth from the bowl sitting on the kitchen island. You were about to scold him for spoiling his dinner but your thoughts were cut off by the ringing of the bell.

“That should be Ellie. Get the door please.” You instructed him.

“On it, boss.” He popped another grape in his mouth before opening the door for Ellie.

“Hey, Ellie. Nice to see you.” He greeted, stepping back so Ellie could make her way into the apartment.

“Hey. I didn’t know what you drank, or if you drank, so I just made punch.” She smiled, handing the bottle to Sully. From the kitchen, you were blushing at the reminder of your first meeting.

“Thank you. She will love this.” He thanked her watching as you came up beside him. Instinctively, he put a hand around your shoulders.

“Hi.” You smiled at her. The air was thick between the two of you and there was an awkward silence. Ellie blinked at you. You looked as good as you did the first time she saw you. It always startled her how her pulse raced in your presence.

“Come look at our new sofa.” You told her, removing yourself from Sully’s grip as you led her into the living room.

“Expensive new couch.” Sully corrected you.

“Can’t put a price on comfort,” Ellie told Sully, smiling as she plopped down on the couch.

“A girl after my own heart.” You smiled down at Ellie, watching as her cheeks blushed once again. Sully sat down next to her, handing the bottle of punch over to you.

“Do you believe in reincarnation? It’s just that my lover here thinks that you two have met before.” Sully asked Ellie, causing you to send a dirty look his way.

“That’s not what I-” You started.

“I think I would have remembered.” Ellie said smoothly, eyes fixed on you. You ignored the way your heart picked up speed and your face grew with warmth.

“Well, I’m going to put this in the kitchen. You two talk.” You hurried away, checking yourself in the mirror before heading back into the kitchen.

On the couch, Ellie fiddled with her fingers as she examined the room around her. It was bright and well-decorated. She could tell that every piece in here was handpicked by you and it made her feel more at ease as she and Sully made small talk.

“Anyway. How about you? Married?” He questioned. Ellie was unsure of how the conversation had led here but she so desperately wanted you to come back. “Ever been married? Ever gonna be married?” He continued to press her.

“Uh, no, no, and maybe now the laws have changed.” She chuckled as she watched the confusion cloud his face, leaning back on the couch.

“What do you mean?” Sully questioned.

“I’m gay.” Ellie flatly responded. Sully let out a laugh, before humming to himself. He didn’t know what to do in these situations.

“Lovely. Well-done.” He told Ellie, cringing at himself. Luckily, Ezra’s arrival had saved him some embarrassment.

The dinner went on as well as you’d expected. Ezra consistently hitting on Ellie, Sully attempting to tell Ezra that Ellie was gay, and numerous stolen glances between you and Ellie all occurred within the half-hour you were sitting there.

Somehow the conversation drifted to how much of a player Ezra was, earning small laughs from the whole group.

“Well, that’ll all change when you meet Mrs.Right.” You told him, pushing your food around on your plate with your fork.

“And how am I supposed to know when I do that? Hm?” Ezra questioned, looking straight at you.

“You don’t know. Not straight away, anyways. It just feels warm, and comfortable, and you hang in there and give it a chance. Before you know it, you’re like yeah, this is it.” You were unsure if you were trying to convince him or yourself, but Sully was smiling at you from across the table so you found comfort in that. “Must be love.”

“Yeah, I’m with you.” Sully agreed.

“Yeah, I’m with her too.” Ezra chimed in.

“I don’t agree.” Ellie blurted out, causing everyone to look at her. “I think you know immediately. You know as soon as your eyes…” She was staring intently at you as her voice trailed off and she averted her gaze from you. “Then everything that happens from then on just proves that you had been right in that first moment.” Her eyes met yours again. It was almost as if she was speaking directly to you.

“When you suddenly realized you had been incomplete and now you are whole.” She finished, her eye contact with you making something inside you stir. You were staring back at you, mouth hanging open. It was almost as if she saw through you at that moment and it made you wonder if she had been feeling the same way. Whatever you were feeling, she had felt too.

“Nevermind, I’m actually with her.” Ezra spoke up, breaking you out of your trance.

“Me too.” Sully laughed. “Okay, who’s ready for desser-”

“No.” You stated.

“No?” Ellie questioned.

“No, if you think that, then you think that everyone who doesn’t have all that business is just settling for less.” You argued, unsure if you were trying to defend what you had with Sully.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” Ellie corrected you.

“That kind of is what you’re saying.” You fought back.

“I think she said it a tiny bit nicer.” Ezra quipped in.

“Cheesecake, anyone?” Sully said, bringing the cheesecake in from the kitchen.

The night carried on after that. You began to help Sully clean the dishes, but he insisted that he and Ezra should do it since you cooked dinner. You watched as Ellie made her way through the hallway, and out to the terrace, bringing her umbrella with her. Quietly you followed her, unsure of what your endgame was. You tightly wrapped your sweater around you, the chill from outside seeping through the walls. Ellie was sat on the edge of your terrace, staring out into the city. You watched her for a moment, content with just looking at her.

“What are you doing?” You called out from inside, causing her to turn her head and smile at you.

“It’s gorgeous,” Ellie told you, turning her head slightly towards the city beneath her.

“It’s raining.” You reminded her, the smile that was permanently on around her only growing.

Ellie closed her umbrella and ran back inside next to you. Watching you as you closed the door shut behind her. You both stood there for a moment watching the rain pour from the warmth inside.

“Sully won't come up here.” You blurted out. “He says there is a subconscious fear that you’ll throw yourself off, but he freaks when I get close to the edge too.”

Ellie remained quiet, smiling gently at you.

“Sorry about dinner.” You apologized for the tiny freakout you had.

“I’ve eaten worse.” Ellie laughed, trying to show you that she had no hard feelings toward you.

“I kind of went off.” You sighed, crossing your arms in front of you.

“You didn’t go off,” Ellie assured you gently, looking back at you with your eyebrows raised. “Okay, you went a little way off.”

This time you both turned toward each other, the air once again thick between the two of you.

“You’re wet.” You said simply as you rubbed the water off her clothes. Ellie’s breath caught in her throat as you touched her.

“I’m fine.” Ellie laughed.

“And you’re cold.” You told her, pulling off your cardigan and beginning to wrap it around her shoulders.

“I’m fine.” She plead again, reaching for your wrist as you attempted to put your sweater on her.

“You can have it, really.” You told her.

“I’m fine.” She said once more, finally giving up and you wrapped her in the sweater, pulling her close. If this was anyone else she would have kissed you right then and there. But you were you, and you were married.

“Hey, what are you guys up to?” Sully called from downstairs, once again breaking the moment the two of you were sharing.

Ellie took a step back away from you. This was a feeling she was unfamiliar with and that’s what scared her the most. She knew that you were going to be the death of her.

ai audios:

#mine #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot

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gretavangroupie · 6 months ago

Text

The Ripe and The Ruin (Chapter 6)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, OC x Reader

Word Count: 15.1k

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Anxiety, Allusions to Cheating, Lying, Jealousy, Sexual Themes, Kissing, Unprotected Sex.

Find the Playlist Here: Apple Music | Spotify

A new series in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.

A/N: Thanks so much for waiting for us while we took our little break. We had the absolute best time at our shows. We plotted and schemed most of the week and there really is quite a bit of exciting new things on the horizon, so keep your eyes peeled.

"Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin."

PARIS, FRANCE

JAKE POV

The sound of the heat kicking on wakes you from your sleep, your heavy eyelids forcing themselves open to a blur of darkness. You drag your hand over your face, rubbing at your tired eyes as you turn to your side ready to pull her close, only to find the bed empty. You blink away the blurriness quickly, finding the place she once was, cold.

You snap your head to the side to glance at the clock, finding it to be a little earlier than you expected. Where did she go? Had she left? You look around the room and see that her things are gone, snatching your phone from the nightstand when you realize she really did leave. You quickly unlock the screen seeing a myriad of messages and missed calls from Isla, but much to your dismay, there was nothing from Y/N.

Your mind immediately starts to race. Did she sneak out? Did Sam’s drunken rambling scare her away? You curse yourself for even letting him into the room in the first place. You throw yourself back down onto the pillows, your brain frantically searching for some kind of answer. Your thumb taps on Josh’s contact, the line ringing out before you even knew what was happening.

“Hello?” he answers, sounding far too chipper for the early hour.

“Hey,” you pause, “You busy?”

“Hmmm…Not at the moment,” he answers, sounding intrigued.

“Come to my room,” you ask, your voice still tired.

You hear him huff a laugh from the other end of the phone, “Be there in a sec.”

You end the call and toss your phone onto the nightstand as you stand to pull yourself out of bed. You dig through your suitcase for a pair of sweats, pulling them over your legs just as you hear a knock at the door.

You blow out a breath as you walk to the door, shaking your head as you twist the lock. As you pull it open you see Josh leaning on the wall across from the door, pushing off as you wave him inside.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this early morning chat?” he asks smugly.

“I just need to you to sit down and listen to me and tell me I didn’t fuck this up,” you say, pointing to the bed. He raises his eyebrows at your assertiveness, quickly complying and taking a seat on the edge of your bed.

“Oh, did you tell her finally?” he asks, crossing his leg over his knee.

“No, I mean, I didn’t say anything but– Sam and his big fucking mouth…He barged in here last night drunk as fuck, rambling on about Lyla and shit, asking about Isla and what was going on there, meanwhile I had Y/N in here, and since we haven’t really told anyone what we are doing I kinda… made her hide in the bathroom. I tried to get Sam out of here but he wouldn’t stop talking, and fuck I just got know she heard all the shit he said,” you pause, pacing around the room. “After he left she asked me if there was something I needed to tell her.”

“And you said?”

“I– I panicked, I don’t know! I said no! I said it was just work stuff…I know I should have told her, but we had just had the most amazing–”

“You said no?!” he shouts.

You furrow your brows in shame as you look at him, “Yeah…”

“Jake, you massive fuck up,” he scolds, shaking his head. “So not only did you hide her in the bathroom, you also lied to her face.”

“Well it sounds really fucking bad when you say it like that,” you counter, throwing your hands into the air.

“Okay, well which part of it is untrue, Jacob?”

“This is bullshit,” you growl, kicking your foot against the floor.

“You thought she would be totally cool hiding in the bathroom? You didn’t think she was going to get a little bit suspicious? I know I'm the smarter twin but you can’t honestly be that stupid, right?”

“What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t let Sam see her without it causing a whole new shit storm with Isla! I did everything I could to get him out of here, but he just kept talking. Thank god he didn’t mention Isla by name, but Y/N is smart and I know she picked up on everything he was saying. I could see it all over her face. She stayed after but, I just woke up and she was gone,” you continue.

He nods his head as he takes in everything you’re saying, a redness in his cheeks as his underlying anger bubbles to the surface. Your phone begins to buzz on the nightstand, snapping both of your attention. You rush over to it to see if it’s Y/N, but again, it’s Isla. You silence the call and toss it back to the nightstand returning to stand in front of Josh.

“Let me guess, it’s Isla?”

“She won’t fucking stop,” you answer nodding.

“I told you to tell her a fucking week ago, Jake,” he snaps.

“How the fuck do you tell someone that? Like, ‘hey, I have a crazy ex who blows up my phone day and night, but oh, also she lives in my house and even though I have broken it off with her several times she keeps clawing her way back into my life and thinks we are still together’? Yeah, I’m not doing all of that.”

“No, that’s exactly what you do. You lay every single nitty gritty detail out on the line for her, and you tell her that you have baggage, and that you are trying to deal with it as gently as possible. You leave the decision in her hands. You don’t lie to her and tell her it’s nothing, when it very much is something,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Well, it’s a little late for that now dont you think?” you snap, “How do I fix it, now.”

“Have you heard from her?” he asks, pushing himself up off the bed.

“No,” you answer quietly. “I didn’t even know she left.”

“Fuck, Jake…” he sighs, running his fingers over his chin as he thinks.

“I think you have two options,” he pauses, giving you a serious look. “You either do what I told you to do a long time ago, or you play it off like absolutely nothing is wrong.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, not expecting the second option. “Yeah? You think…you think that would work?”

He sighs and shakes his head, “I think it’s a terrible idea, but yeah I think it could work. Though my vote is for the first option.”

“I just feel like it’s not her business to know about the shit with Isla,” you counter.

“If you are sleeping with her, it’s her business Jake, goddamn.”

“I would disagree,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

He shakes his head and purses his lips in anger, “You know what? I think you just wanted me to tell you what you want to hear to patch up your wounded ego. I don’t think you have any interest in doing the right thing at all, do you Jake?” he pauses, walking over to the door. “You need to get your shit straight, man. If I were you, I would take my advice and do the right thing before this all blows up in your face.”

He slams the door behind himself as you stand staring at it, anger pouring off of you. You know he’s right, no matter how hard of a pill it is to swallow. You could see the disappointment in his eyes, the look cutting you to your core. You turn and head into the bathroom, turning on the shower and letting the steam fill the bathroom. You knew you fucked up, not only was she mad at you, but so was Josh, and right now you couldn’t think of anything worse.

You walk back into the room, grabbing your phone from the nightstand and seeing Isla’s missed call. You let out a sigh as you swipe past it, hitting Y/N’s contact instead. The call rings for a few seconds before going to her voicemail and you feel your heart drop into your stomach. You decide a text might be better and quickly type and retype your message until you’re happy with it. In that moment you make the choice to pretend like nothing is wrong, going against Josh’s advice yet again.

You

9:19AM: Where did you run off to this morning?

You toss the phone onto the bed and strip out of your clothes, knowing that the shower is hot and waiting for you and wondering if the plans the two of you made for the day still stand.

—

HER POV

Earlier That Morning

You’d spent the first hour of your morning in complete darkness, refusing to open the heavy curtains of your hotel room until you were ready to be gone. You’d barely slept the night before, tossing and turning as you fought the thoughts that plagued your mind. It didn’t help that Jake’s phone had been going off all night long, illuminating the dark room with a pale blue tint after each vibrate you heard.

Someone really wanted to talk to him.

You could still hear Sam’s words replaying in your mind, your stomach dropping as each fleeting memory makes its way to the forefront of your mind to throw more confusion into the mix. It feels impossible to stifle them. You step out of a particularly hot shower, still proud of the fact that you’d managed to sneak out of Jake’s bed this morning without waking him.

You run a towel through your hair as you wipe off the fogged mirror, unable to truly look at your own reflection without feeling a fucked up sense of shame. Jake didn’t deserve a formal goodbye after what happened last night. Your gut is screaming at you, heeding warnings that something isn’t right… so you stand firm in your decision to leave him alone in his bed this morning.

You hadn’t even bothered to look at your phone yet, knowing that today is a free day, and you likely will have little to no obligations. You wrap your hair up in the fluffy towel and make your way back out to your suitcase to grab your phone charger. As it powers back to life from its dangerously low battery, you notice a singular text from just a little while ago.

Paul

6:06AM: Hey! Call when you wake up, no hurry

The clock is nearing 8, so you stay wrapped up in your towel, falling under the covers as you listen to his tone ring out.

“Goodmorning!” Paul’s chipper greeting almost irks you.

“Morning!” you respond with a fake lilt.

“Hey, got a little assignment for you today, it isn’t much and shouldn’t take you very long, but the job itself might be a little bit of a pain in the ass. Crew is already running low on water, so I had some ordered and need you to go and pick it up,” he explains.

Your face contorts up at the thought of having to load multiple cases of bottled water into whatever vehicle you’re provided with.

“I know it’s an off day, but Murph is going to go with you… I know it will be a lot of heavy lifting so I figured he would be the best man for the job,” Paul went on, referencing Murph’s rather toned and muscular stature.

Fuck. A solo assignment with just Murph? Enough to make you want to skip out on breakfast…

“Oh, okay! I can do that, no big deal. Are you sure Murph isn’t too busy? I could ask one of the others–”

“No, I’ve already spoken with him. He should be ready and waiting for you about ten o’clock,” Paul goes on. “Just load it back into the craft supply truck when you guys get back. Thanks again, Y/N! I’ll text you the address of the place.”

“Will do. Talk to you later.” You hang up the phone and pull the heavy blankets over your head, feeling ten thousand emotions flood you at once. Murph gives you a nervous energy, something about being in his presence makes your body swell with childlike giddiness. And on the other hand, the tumultuous pool of uncertainty that you’ve been thrust into with Jake has left you feeling drained and disheartened, and you don’t even have any explanation yet.

You’re miffed at him. Miffed as fuck. His own brother drunkenly asked him how he was handling being away for this long. You’re no scientist, but you know how to pick up on cues and connect dots, and you absolutely know when someone is lying to you. The more time you spend stewing, the more angry you become. This is most definitely not what you need right now.

You stay buried under the covers for a long while, your hair still piled and wrapped in the damp towel on your head. You close your eyes, thinking over everything again, vowing to stay right here in bed until the last possible second before you have to leave. A quiet knock on your door startles you from your cozy cave, and you know for a fact that Jake has come to your room since you decided to sneak out this morning. You whip the blankets back, quietly rushing to the peephole to prepare yourself to pretend you aren’t in the room.

But it isn’t Jake.

It’s Murph.

A surge of nerves overtake your half-clothed body, and you mumble a silent ‘oh my gooooooddddd’ as you decide what to do. You flick your hand out as your eyes pace around the room, one hand clutching the towel between your breasts. What would Ruth do?

Ruth would answer the door.

Your hand turns the heavy metal lever, pulling the door open only six inches or so. You’re met with a completely surprised Murph, leaning his head away and covering his eyes when he realizes he’s almost caught you in your birthday suit.

“Shit! I’m sorry, I was just coming by to make sure… I–I can wait for you downstairs–” he scrambles, and you witness his normal tough exterior fall all to pieces as his cheeks turn pink with embarrassment.

“No no! I’m sorry!” you cry, pulling the door closed just a little bit. “It’s no big deal…”

He grins hard as he runs a hand over his face, approaching the door again and leaning one hand on the frame. “I just… came by to make sure Paul had talked with you, didn’t want you to oversleep or…” his hand nervously falls to his hip as he regains his composure, his body obviously wracked with uneasiness. He’s cute this way…

You take a page from Ruth’s book again, pulling the towel that sat on top of your head off, letting your wet hair flow over your shoulders. His eyes grow ten times in size, but only for a second.

“Yes, Paul called. And I’m awake,” you reply sheepishly, lowering your head to look at him through your lashes.

“Okay, yeah. Good. I’ll uh, meet you downstairs at ten?” he asks through an anxious breath and swallow.

You bite your cheeks in and nod, twirling a piece of wet hair around your finger. “Mhmm, I’ll be there…” You watch his eyes as he tries his best to avoid eye contact with you, or more yet, your half-naked body.

“Okay, good. I’ll–I’ll see you then,” he says as he quickly turns and makes his way back down to the elevator.

You rush back to climb under the warmth of the covers as you giddily kick your feet underneath them, knowing all too well that you just managed to get a big burly security guard flustered by hardly doing anything at all. God, he looked good already today. A black shirt and dark wash jeans, a heavy canvas zip-up jacket and his signature backwards ballcap. And he had some type of cologne on… you couldn’t quite place it, but it was familiar while also unlike anything you’d ever smelled before.

You let yourself relish in the feeling for just a little bit, and like clockwork, your phone buzzes with Jake’s contact ringing across your screen. You stare at it as it inches its way across the table, until it stops ringing completely. Nah. Not yet. Only seconds after the phone stops ringing, you see a text from him bubble up on your notifications, but you ignore that too. You need some time to think. And, you have work to do.

You finally pull yourself from the comfort of the bed and get dressed for the day. As you grab up your purse and heavy winter coat to head off in search of coffee, you feel the pull to hash out your feelings with Ruth. After five or six rings, you hear her tired voice come over the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I know it’s hella early and shit but I need to vent…” you say as you let your hotel room door close behind you.

“Oh my god, you okay? What’s going on?” she replies, seemingly awake now.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Listen… so last night after the show, me and Jake… ya know. Yeah. Everything was beautiful and perfect and everything until after, we’re sitting there literally naked and his brother Sam knocked on our door, and Jake hid me in the fucking bathroom.” You try to keep your voice low and close to the phone, just in case someone happens to be nearby.

You swear you can hear her scoff from across the ocean. “HUH?!” she squeals. “Hid you?! The fuck?”

“I know, I know… like, I get it, finding us that way wouldn’t have been the best of circumstances but, that’s not even the worst part.” You press the button in the elevator to the ground floor as you finally find a little solace in being alone. “I was trying to get dressed in the dark bathroom, and here comes Sam, needing to pee. So I jump into the shower as quietly as I can and try not to breathe while they keep talking. And, get this Ruth… Sam starts talking about how he’s having problems with his own girlfriend, saying she’s acting really weird and off lately. So Jake says maybe she’s having trouble with the time difference and missing home or some bullshit. So Sam is like ‘Yeah, maybe so…’ Then he asks Jake ‘how you two are handling that’… and that he ‘hasn’t seen Jake on his phone a lot lately…’ I dunno. Then Sam said he knows that Jake has been going through this shit for a while. Like what shit? What could he possibly be having to deal with right now?” You realize that you’re rambling again, a quality that you’ve started to take notice of in your personality as of late.

“What the fuck…” Ruth trails off, trying to run over everything you’d just said. “So, do you think he has someone back home, and just never told you about it?” Her words hit you like a dagger, and hearing your suspicious thoughts be spoken out loud nearly makes you feel sick. You step off the elevator and into the crowded lobby of people in search of breakfast.

“I don’t know, Ruth. Maybe? But also, he would have told me, I think. Ugh, it feels so fucked up. We have plans today and tonight, too. I kind of want to blow him off…”

“Shit, you’re pissed, aren't you? I definitely think something is going on, did you ask him once Sam left?” she presses.

You finally spot the coffee bar across the hallway, making a beeline. “Yes, and I swear it felt like he was leaving some gaps in his explanation.”

She huffs. “Trust your gut, babe. You know him better than I would.”

“What should I do?” you ask, watching as a packet of sugar crystals trail into your paper coffee cup.

“Let him come to you. I wouldn’t give him the time of day until he decides to be honest with you, ya know? You deserve at least that much…” she says, and you can hear her figuratively putting her foot down.

You let out a long sigh. “You’re right, I already ignored his call this morning. I need some time to think…”

“I agree with you. Maybe step back a little,” she says, yawning heavily.

You press the plastic lid down onto your coffee and saunter over to a plush couch in a hidden corner of the lobby, ready to drown yourself in emails and this stout dark roast. “You’re right, I think I will. Thanks Ruthie, go back to sleep.”

“Already halfway there, call me later, babe,” she says quietly. “Oh, hey, do you mind if I…do a little research, if you know what I mean?”

Your brows furrow as you contemplate. “Research…”

“Yes. You know exactly what I mean.”

“Oh,” you finally understand. “I mean, I’m not gonna stop you. As long as you report back with your findings.”

“Babe, duh. I’ll talk to you later,” she says.

“Byeeeeee.” You press the red button on your phone, pressing the end of it to your forehead a few times before slouching down onto the couch. Ten o’clock will be here before you know it, and you feel a zap of excited electricity at knowing you get to spend the morning with none other than the flustered security guard.

—

Needless to say you were more than a little surprised to see Murph standing outside of the hotel doors leaning on a truck, his arms crossed across his chest as he scrolls on his phone. His eyes flick up, catching yours as you step outside into the cold air. You make your way towards him, pulling your jacket closed tightly across your chest. The wind is unforgiving as you get closer, blowing your hair across your face. You watch him spring into action, quickly running around to the door to open it for you.

“Thanks,” you smile, jumping into the warm cab. He nods his head and runs around the opposite side of the truck, sliding in next to you. He turns the knob for the heat and you instantly start to warm up.

“How’d you manage to finesse a truck in another country?” you laugh, placing your bag on the floorboard.

“Ahh, been here a few times now, feel pretty good on the roads. That and I’m not letting someone drive me around. I’m perfectly capable, so I made a few calls,” he grins, shifting the truck into drive.

“Do you know where we’re even going?” you ask, pulling your phone from your purse.

“I think so, but why don’t you just tell me anyway,” he smirks, pulling out into traffic. The traffic patterns are foreign to you, but he seems to be handling them with ease, and that alone has you able to relax a bit.

“Okay, so per Paul, it looks like we are heading to a bulk grocer, and the address is 47 Rue Saint-Jacques,” you answer. “The order has already been placed, we’re just picking it up.”

He taps on his phone screen a few times as he types in the address, nodding his head as he previews the route. “Looks like we’ve got about twenty minutes ahead of us.”

“That’s not bad at all, maybe this will be a quick trip after all,” you smile towards him.

He huffs a laugh as he readjusts his hat on his head, “Maybe so.”

—

Murph takes the lead loading the cases of water into the truck bed, insisting he will do all of it. You feel bad as you just stand by watching, but he seems like the type of guy to bear the burden of most things with no regrets. He swipes his hand across his brow and fixes his hat, letting out a breath as he closes the truck bed.

“That all of it?”

“I think so!” you pause, “Thanks for doing all of that, I feel kind of useless.”

“Nah, not at all,” he smirks, nodding towards the truck. You both get into the warm cab and as you reach for your phone, you find the screen filled with notifications from Ruth. For the past twenty minutes your phone had been ringing and numerous texts had come through, the last one reading ‘SOS’.

Your heart drops into your stomach as you consider that something bad has happened, your hands shaking as you tap her contact and listen to the call ring. She doesn’t answer and the sick feeling in your stomach grows. You shakily type a message to her, hoping she will see it.

You

10:49AM: WHAT IS HAPPENING

10:49AM: I’M ON A WORK THING WITH MURPH AND I DIDNT SEE MY PHONE

You lock your screen as your knee bounces nervously, picking at your nails with your fingers.

“You okay?” he asks, turning to look at you.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay, just missed an important call that's all,” you say, trying not to go into too much detail. “Tell me about you, distract me,” you beg.

“About me?” he asks, “Uhh, what do you want to know?”

“I don’t know, anything, something. Tell me…tell me how you got into this business.”

“How I got into this business… My that's kind of a loaded first question,” he laughs, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “Well, I’ve always sort of just…protected people. Done it my whole life. Kind of like instinct I guess. Got a little older and realized it’s what I was meant to do. Joined the military when I turned seventeen, stayed in for a long time. Did a few tours, saw some wild shit, and now I’m on reserves. I joined a little group of guys who also weren’t ready to stop and now we do close range protection. Got a call one day I’d been hired to watch over these guys and now here I am hauling water into the back of a truck and driving around a pretty girl.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his admission. Shit.

“You never wanted to do anything else?” you ask.

“No. I feel my best when I am protecting others,” he says, his face stern and serious. “It’s in my blood.”

“That's very…admirable,” you say, feeling yourself swooning over the man next to you.

“Ahh, that’s not why I do it, though it does feel good to hear you say it,” he winks.

You feel your cheeks grow warm when he winks at you, and you quickly face forward before he notices. He smiles softly as he whips the truck through the streets, chewing his gum casually.

Your phone starts to buzz in your lap, instantly zapping your attention.

Ruth

11:02AM: CODE RED

11:02AM: SOS

11:02AM: ANSWER MEEEEEEEE

You

11:03AM: WHAT! I’m here!!!

The next message that comes through is a photo, and not one you expected to see. It’s Jake and another woman looking awfully cozy on a porch swing. She’s pretty, gorgeous even. Way prettier than you are. It's a screenshot of an Instagram profile, the date of the photo showing it was posted almost a year ago. Your heart sinks again as you look at it, seeing Jake’s arm wrapped around her as her hand rests on his thigh. The caption reads ‘forever’. You swallow back the lump in your throat as you go back to your texts with Ruth.

You

11:05AM: Holy fuck, where did you find that?

Ruth

11:06AM: On her profile, there's tons, babe. Some are…recent. Like very recent.

You

11:07AM: So he lied? He has a girlfriend?

11:07AM: Oh shit am I a homewrecker? Oh my god and his phone was blowing up all night. I am totally a homewrecker bitch.

11:08AM: HE LIEEEDDDD TO ME

11:08AM: RUTH WHAT DO I DO HELP ME

Ruth

11:09AM: I don’t know for sure if they are together or not, the last post of the two of them was almost 6 months ago.

11:10AM: I wish I knew what to tell you, but I don’t know this guy at all and I can’t get a good read on her just from her socials. If they aren’t together now they definitely were recently. She used to post about him a lot and now she has slacked off a good bit.

You

11:11AM: How did you even find her?

Ruth

11:12AM: Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to. ( I had to make a whole ass fake profile )

You

11:13AM: RUTHIE

Ruth

11:14AM: What?! I did what had to be done. I have no regrets, and all it took was a quick search of a tagged photo of the bassists girlfriend to find her. Did you know they do pilates together? Rich bitches. So anyways now my name is Cassandra and I also take Pilates classes at Well Body Pilates. 💅🏻

You

11:15AM: You found her through Sam’s girlfriend?!

Ruth

11:16AM: My mind is an intricate and beautiful web of deception and mischief

You

11:17AM: Yeah, it’s also sick and twisted. Keep digging. I need to know what I’m dealing with here. I still haven't spoken to Jake.

11:17AM: Well, not really. He added a song to the playlist and I replied to it. I don’t know what I’m doing Ruth…

Ruth

11:18AM: Oh trust me, I’m digging and I don’t blame you for not answering him. I wouldn’t speak to him either.

11:18AM: Little RAT

You

11:19AM: Ruth…

Ruth

11:20AM: 😇

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you look at the photo again. He looks happy. You feel your heart twist a little at the thought of him being in a relationship and cheating. You really didn’t think he was that kind of guy. You swallow the lump in your throat just as Murph turns to look at you.

“Hey, uh, are you hungry?” he asks.

You blink away your emotions, nodding your head. “Yeah, actually… I am.” you answer, knowing that you were supposed to spend the day with Jake, but now you can hardly stomach the thought.

“You like pizza?” he smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course! Who doesn’t like pizza?”

He laughs a hearty laugh and tosses his head back a bit, “Good, that’s good, I know just the place.”

Your phone buzzes once more in your lap, and you flip it over to see another text from Ruth.

Ruth

11:22AM: Ps, who is Murph?

You smirk as you realize you haven’t gone into much detail about this new addition to the crew, yet. As he pays heavy attention to traffic and stoplights, you twist your phone in your lap to snap the sneakiest picture of him to send to Ruth.

You

11:23AM: *Attachment*

New security guard. CUTE security guard. 😊

Ruth

11:24AM: Well HELLO THERE sir!!

11:24AM: Bitch if you don’t flirt with him, I’m flying across the ocean to do it myself

11:25AM: Jake who?????

You

11:25AM: I’m at work, Ruthie. Remember.

11:26AM: But yeah we be flirting a little😛

You lock your phone to turn your attention back to professionalism, listening to the light music coming from the radio station Murph had chosen.

JAKE POV

You stay close behind Josh and Ty as you meander the back alleyways of the city, taking in the beauty of the architecture and old-world style of the storefronts. Monty has tagged along today, hanging back and taking phone calls as the three of you walk. It’s cold, but not as cold as what you’d been enduring the past few days. Typically, you’d spend these free days by yourself, either hiding away in the hotel room or finding something private to partake in. Or, as of late, you would have spent it with Y/N, but after multiple texts and a phone call went ignored this morning, you decided to focus your attention elsewhere.

“Odd of you to tag along with us, brother. Need to stretch your legs today?” Josh asks, pulling back from Ty a little. You know the tension is still high from your argument this morning, but you can tell that Josh is trying to brush it off to keep a cool head in front of Ty.

“Yeah, well. If you remember, I had plans today, but. They kind of fell through…” you answer him, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh, with Y/N,” he acts like he only just remembered.

You nod, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, but she kind of blew me off. Hasn’t answered me all morning, still.”

“Ah,” Josh says with a slightly sarcastic tone. “Probably because Paul sent her out to get something for the crew, and Murph went with her.”

Wait, Murph?

“Murph went with her? Why? Where did she have to go?” you have a million questions, and you aren’t sure which ones to ask first.

Josh bites his tongue as he decides what to say. “I think they had to go get water for the crew or something, was gonna be a big job, so Murph volunteered to go and help her get it,” he explains. “They should be back later, though. Isn’t she coming up to the Tower with us later?”

You feel yourself seething. “Yeah. Well, was supposed to. Was supposed to hang out right now, too, but. We see how that ended up.”

“It’s not her fault, Jake, shit. Paul sent her on an assignment…”Josh defends her with a shrug. “I can tell you’re pissed for some reason. And I know it’s just not at me from this morning…”

“I’m not…pissed about that, I’m pissed she's actively ignoring me after what happened last night with–” You cut yourself off, truly not wanting to go into detail about Sam’s unexpected visit and what happened thereafter in front of Ty.

“With Sam…? Yeah. I see you still haven’t heeded my advice…” he says with a snarl, whispering away from earshot of Ty. He shakes his head at you as you stay silent. He turns and stops you in your tracks, forming the illusion of an explosion with his fingers and hands, right in front of your face. “Ka-boom!” he whispers before turning away again.

You know he’s right. This is all going to blow up in your face.

Josh and Ty skip on ahead of you, slipping into a pub or something, you don’t know. You pull your phone from your pocket, seeing that she still hasn’t sent a thing. You swipe through a few notifications from Isla, knowing that those can be dealt with later, and bring up your music app to see if adding another song will get something out of her.

What to add…

You file through your extensive library, finally landing on a song that’s a little out of your realm of normal listening, but will still catch her attention. You click the song, ‘While I’m Waiting Here’ by Billy Strings, selecting the three dots and adding it to the playlist. You hope she will see it and know that you’re still thinking about her, wanting to make this work, but at the same time you know you have buried yourself deep inside a hole that is lined with explosives, and all you can do is wait for the spark to ignite them.

Should you have listened to Josh? Yes, absolutely. He’s right, you know he is. Josh is the angel on your shoulder whispering in your ear to err on the side of reason and honesty. But the devil on the other shoulder is standing firm in the fact that it’s truly none of Y/N’s business to know the details about your past with Isla; as far as you’re concerned, that part of your life is done.

…But it’s not. It’s far from done. She still lives with you. The little devil is just spouting the words that you want to hear, weaving lies and deceit into his corrupt advice, and making you believe it to be justified.

You shove your phone back into your pocket as you slip inside the hidden pub door behind Ty and Josh, feeling the need for a beer the size of your head to take this fucking edge off. It’s truly pissing you off how hung up you are on this girl, and you’re even more pissed that she’s spending her day with a man that you know for a fact was able to make you extremely jealous.

You take a barstool next to Josh as he orders three of the same whatever, and you slump down onto your elbows as you stare at the intricate mosaic artwork that adorns the short bartop. Your finger glides along the multicolored tiles, tracing the grout between them as you let your mind wander. Maybe you should just tell her. Tell her everything.

Suddenly a giant glass stein of beer is firmly plopped in front of your sullen face as Josh nudges his elbow into your shoulder. “Wake up, Eeyore. Time to take advantage of our day,” he heeds, so you slowly sit up. You truly must be presenting yourself like a heartbroken asshole.

You give him the evil eye as you lift the mug to your lips, letting the foam graze across your mustache. For the first time in a while, the instant jolt of alcohol hitting your system isn’t as much welcomed as it is irritating, but you decide to get past it, because what the fuck else are you gonna do?

You suddenly feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and your mood instantly lightens. You rip it out quickly, tapping the screen to see that finally, she has made contact.

‘Y/N Added A Song to Your Shared Playlist: 🐥’

The song she chose nearly made your heart fall straight into the hardwood floor beneath you. ‘Suspicious Minds’ by Elvis Presley.

Fuck. Fuck fuck.

Could this truly get any fucking worse? And better yet, how in the hell are you going to fix it in such a way that you get a happy ending? You decide to grasp on to the fleeting second, opening your text thread with her to make contact even further.

You

11:48AM: We still on for later?

Your heart rate spikes as you watch your phone in anticipation, feeling completely stupid for being this giddy and also somehow even more confused than before. You know she knows something is up, now. Suspicious is the absolute last thing you want her to be, but… she is a smart person. And you’ve been the idiot.

Her text bubble pops up, typing for a very long time.

Finally you receive a wordless text, a ‘👍🏼’ her only response. Okay, so it’s not a thumbs down, at least? But still, you were expecting at least a Yes. You decide to cut your losses, taking the contact as a tiny win, but knowing that the gut feeling of dread is only going to get worse as this beer in your hand empties.

—

The day passes without another word from her, and you know because you spent a large majority of the day checking your phone. You now find yourself pacing around your hotel room as you wait to hear about your evening plans, wondering if she would be involved in them.

You

7:56PM: What's the plan

Sam

7:57PM: Aren’t we going to the towa

Josh

7:58PM: Yeah, I think we are meeting everyone downstairs at 8:30

You

7:58PM: Who all is going?

Josh

7:59PM: Everyone, it’s a crew outing

You

7:59PM: Great.

Josh

8:00PM: Suck it up Jake

Daniel

8:01PM: Yeah Jake 😋

You lock your phone and toss it on your bed, still a disheveled mess from this morning. You continue to pace around your room as your mind swirls with thoughts. You wonder why you hadn’t heard from her, even after her confirmation earlier. You wonder if she spent the whole day with Murph and what they did together. You grit your teeth together at the thought, snatching your phone off of the bed and deciding that if this is how she wants to do things, you too could play that game.

As everyone assembles down in the lobby you find yourself looking for her, wanting just a glimpse of her to prove your wandering thoughts wrong. You groan inwardly when you find she isn’t around, and not shockingly, neither is Murph. As everyone loads into the vans you check your phone again, and still you have nothing from her. You find yourself getting a little pissed off at this game she is playing and again you tell yourself you can play it too, your desire growing by the second.

The ride to the tower is short, your knee bouncing the entire ride as you stare out the window. It's not long before you’re all piling out and breaking into groups, waiting for the last few stragglers to arrive. In the distance you see two people rushing towards you, laughing and smiling as they approach. You suck your teeth when you realize it's Y/N and Murph, definitely running late from what appears to be their day off spent together.

You shove your hands in your pockets and turn to Josh, raising your eyebrows in question. He peers over your shoulder and catches sight of them, shrugging his shoulders before turning his attention back to Ty. Right.

The two of them regain their composure quickly, but you can tell that Y/N has been drinking. Her cheeks are pink and a smile hasn’t left her face since she stepped up to the group. She hasn’t made eye contact with you yet, and you wonder if she even will. You turn to face them, giving her no choice but to acknowledge you, and when her eyes finally meet yours it's only for a split second before she tears them away.

Okay, what the fuck.

Murph steps away to talk to Dean, and you finally get a second alone with her, hoping she will give you the time of day.

“And where have you been all day?” you ask playfully, raising a brow.

She raises her own and purses her lips, “Running errands for you and your crew.”

“Is that right? I thought you were off today?”

“I thought so too, apparently there was no water left and I couldn’t get it all on my own,” she answers, an edge of confrontation in her voice. Murph steps back over towards her, catching the tail end of the conversation.

“I could have gone with you, you know.”

“No need man, I took good care of her,” Murph smiles, patting you on the back.

You do your best to stifle back the scoff begging to rattle from your chest, nodding your head at him. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

The tour guide speaks up before he can answer, grabbing your attention to lead the group towards the entrance to the tower. You turn to look at Y/N, her eyes already on you as you meet them and you can tell there is something she wants to say. Instead, she walks ahead letting Murph trail behind her.

—

Most of the tour is spent casting glances at each other, speaking with your eyes instead of your words. There is tension between the two of you, you can feel its cold grip around your neck with every meeting of your eyes. You were supposed to do this with her. You were supposed to bring her here. Just the two of you. Had she forgotten? Did she change her mind overnight? It would explain a lot.

As you stare out into the twinkling city beneath you, the cold wind blows your scarf around. You find yourself wishing it was just the two of you, pointing out monuments and landmarks as you held her close to keep her warm. You turn around to look for her, deciding that you had to say something. Just get some kind of answer.

You find her hanging out with Josh and Ty, the three of them smiling and laughing as Murph patrols the area for any potential threats. Josh notices you and breaks away from them, meeting you where you were instead of letting you join them.

“First, fix your face. If you’re trying to sell the ‘nothing is wrong’ bit you’re doing a miserable job,” he says, placing his hand on his hip.

You roll your eyes in response, flashing him a faux smile as you push him out of the way and head over towards her. Her eyes meet yours, her lips parting in surprise as you hear your name called from behind you. You look over your shoulder to find a woman with a longing look and a twinkle in her eye, nervously approaching.

Murph rushes up behind her, giving you a look to let you know he will escort her away if you want him to. You quickly shake your head no, knowing that you can use this interaction to your advantage.

“Hi, how are you?” you smile, greeting the woman excitedly. She's about your age, maybe a year or two younger, with striking eyes.

“Hi Jake! I don’t mean to bother you, I was just wondering if I could take a picture with you? My friend and I?” she asks, motioning her equally as attractive friend toward her.

“Hi there, nice to meet you,” you say, motioning them both in for a hug. You pull them in close, posing for a few photos as Y/N stands by watching. If you are right, and if you know her like you think you do, this will set her off.

You can feel her eyes on you as you continue to talk and interact with the fans, all the while your mind filled with thoughts of her and the dark pink shade that has taken over her cheeks.

You say goodbye to the fans, sending them off with a wave, turning on your heel to join Josh, Ty, and Y/N at the opposite end of the tower.

“How they hell do they find us all the way up here?” Josh laughs, elbowing your arm.

“No problem to take a photo or two with some pretty girls,” you quip, raising a brow at him.

“Never is, is it Jake?” he laughs, and as you nod your head you flash a smile right to Y/N, knowing that your plan worked perfectly.

—

You all load into the vans, making your way back towards the hotel. Y/N rides with Paul and Wes, and you know she is positively stewing with jealousy over your impromptu meet and greet. She would talk to you now, you were sure of it. You just had to wait.

As the vans drop you off at the hotel lobby you all meander inside, some of you opting for the hotel bar, while others headed up to their rooms. You stood off to the side, waiting to see what Y/N was going to do, and you think she was planning to do the same, that is, until Murph stepped up to her.

“I can walk you up to your room if you want,” he offers, causing a scoff to leave your lips. You step up to the both of them with your hands in your pockets.

“Why don’t I walk her up so that you can do your job and watch those idiots heading into the bar.”

He gives you a surprised look and nods his head. He bites his lips as he turns to Y/N, telling her a quick goodnight before disappearing into the hotel bar. Just when you think you’ve got her, Ty swoops in.

“Actually, I’m walking her. Let’s go Y/N,” Ty says, linking arms with her and dragging her into the elevator with him. She shoots you a snarky look as the doors close, leaving you standing in the lobby empty handed, yet again.

As you make your way up to your room, you start to think that your plan has backfired, and that not only have you made her mad, you’ve made her unnecessarily jealous too. You consider texting her as your door shuts behind you, but decide to leave the ball in her court and see if she reaches out.

You take a quick shower, and wander back into your room, hearing your phone buzz on the nightstand. Your head instantly snaps over to look at it, hoping to see a message from her. As you snatch it off the small nightstand your cheeks instantly heat seeing the notification on your screen.

‘Y/N Added A Song to Your Shared Playlist: 🐥’

You immediately tap the banner, watching as the playlist populates before your eyes. Your breath is stolen away as you see her addition, a smile pulling across your lips. ‘Need You Tonight’ by INXS was added two minutes ago.

You realize what she is saying, and you consider responding with a song but you decide to up the ante and call her directly. The line rings only twice before she answers.

“Hello?”

“Well, well, well,” you start, quickly getting cut off before you can finish your sentence.

“Shut up, come to my room,” she snaps.

“A little feisty this evening?” you taunt.

“Are you coming or not,” she whines.

“Oh, so now you want to talk to me? It was the girls, wasn’t it, baby…”

“Have any of the girls ever told you that you have a big head?” she gripes.

“No, but they’ve told me I have a massive di–” you start, hearing the chime as the call ends. She got you there.

You quickly change into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, leaving your phone on the nightstand and swiping your room key as you rush out the door in search of her room without a second thought.

—

You rap your knuckles against her door, stepping back as you wait for her to open it. Your nerves are swirling around in your body and you feel like you’re positively vibrating. You know you need to talk to her, but right now she wants you and you would never deny her that.

The door swings open, revealing her barely there silky pajama set hanging haphazardly from her shoulders. She ushers you inside, shutting the door behind you.

“I thought you’d come,” she quips.

“Had to. First I’ve heard from you all day…” you taunt. “You forget about me?”

She pulls you by your hand into the room, sitting the two of you on the edge of the bed.

“No, didn’t forget at all, actually. Was just…preoccupied.”

“Mhmm, thought we had plans,” you say, brushing the hair away from her shoulder.

“We did, but…”

“But what?” you ask, running your fingers down her arm.

“But I had to do my job. You know the thing I’m here to do…” she grins.

“I could have gone with you, you know.”

“Yeah, you could have but Murph offered.” she continues.

“Yeah, did you two have fun on your little date?” you ask.

“Date? Who said it was a date?” she questions.

“Did you spend the entire day together? Did you show up to the tower a little tipsy or was that just my imagination?” you prompt.

“You seem a little bit jealous, Jacob,” she says, resting her hand on your thigh.

“Why’d you blow me off for him?”

“I was just doing my job and so was he,” she answers, feigning ignorance.

You cup her cheek in your hand, letting your thumb rest on her lips, “Lie to me again.”

“Was just work.”

You pull her into your lap, connecting your lips to hers in a desperate, needy kiss. Her arms wrap around your neck as your hands settle on her hips, pulling her down to yours.

“You need a reminder of why I’m here and he’s not?”

She parts her lips from yours, glossy and wet, “It’s not too late…”

A growl leaves your chest as you flip her over onto the bed, pinning her arms above her head with your hands.

“Why are you being so ornery this evening, hm?” you ask, pressing your lips to her neck.

“Why are you being so jealous?” she counters.

“M’not jealous sweetheart,” you offer, sliding the straps of her top over her shoulders.

“You’re surely acting it,” she says, letting you pull the top over her chest.

“Just like you weren’t jealous of those girls tonight? I know that's why you called me here, baby.”

You press your lips to her chest, sucking a dark pink mark into her skin as her hands weave into your hair.

“We never set any boundaries Jake. I’m not yours.”

You press your finger into the pink mark on her chest, blooming purple beneath your touch, “This would beg to differ.”

“We’re just sleeping together, Jake.”

“I’m well aware,” you say, dusting your thumb over her hardened nipple.

“So do what you’re here for…”

“Oh, you think you call the shots now? I have bad news for you, baby,” you say, tugging her shorts over her hips.

“You think you’re in charge here?” she asks, shimming her hips to kick off the silky shorts.

“I know I am,” you answer, pulling your shirt over your head.

“You would like to think that wouldn’t you,” she counters, watching you push your sweats down your legs.

“You better watch it sweetheart, you’ve got me a little pissed off as it is,” you warn.

“Me? What could I have done?” she smirks.

“You know exactly what you did,” you answer.

She flashes you a knowing grin, wrapping her arms around your neck and pulling your lips down to hers connecting your mouths in a fiery kiss. Her tongue slides across your lips just as you part them, letting your tongue tangle with hers. She tastes of wine and mint, her tongue hot on your own. Your hand grips into her waist, feeling the smoothness of her skin on your fingers.

You feel her hand snake between the two of you, grabbing your length and stroking you as her lips continue to explore yours. She pulls your body down to hers, swiping your tip through her wet center. You suck in a deep breath feeling her arousal coating you, and you realize that this game of cat and mouse has you more worked up than you thought.

You push her hand away, taking back control, grabbing your dick as you continue to tease her. She is squirming beneath you, as desperate for you as you are for her. Her eyes are dark, her hair splayed across the pillow beneath her head as she looks at you. Her chest is heaving as she watches, the dim lighting in the room casting the perfect shadow against her body.

You lick your lips as you press yourself to her entrance, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as you push forward into her. You sink in easily, her body ready and willing to accept every inch of you as if it had been waiting for you. You settle yourself on your elbow above her, letting your free hand fall to her throat. You can feel her pulse beneath your fingers, rapid and pounding as her body adjusts to you. The darkness in her eyes grows as your grip on her neck tightens.

“Yeah? You want more?” you ask, letting your fingertips dig into her skin. She nods her head quickly, biting her bottom lip.

“Fuck,” you breathe, tightening the grip across her trachea just a little harder, forcing the breath from her lungs and her eyes to close shut. You take the initiative and pull yourself from her, thrusting back in almost as hard as you can, pausing there as you loosen your grip.

Her eyes flash open as she inhales, a pitiful whine falling from her chest. “Fuck, Jake, just go…please, keep going…” she breathes, digging her nails into the skin of your back.

“Feeling needy now, baby? What switched, huh?” you pant, feeling her squeeze herself around you. You pull out slowly, completely disconnecting yourself from her. Your hand is still balanced across her throat, waiting again for the opportune moment. “Ignore me all damn day, fuck…”

She bites her lips in as you hover above her, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of being fucked at her will. She stays quiet.

“Nothing to say now?” You ask, gliding your tip along her wetness as you hear her breath hitch.

“You’re the one who should have something to say, Jacob,” she bites, giving you a stern look of defiance.

You huff in discernment, knowing exactly what she means, but still unable to go through with any conversation. She raises an eyebrow, her fingers still digging into your muscles. You're absolutely throbbing, your body begging you to get back to the task at hand.

“It’s okay, I know you were preoccupied all day, watching my texts come over your phone… I was alone all day, wondering why you were the one to leave me high and dry this time…” you squeeze your fingers around her neck again as you thrust forward into her with a devilish grin, watching her face contort. You pick up the pace now, using your free hand to balance above her.

Still yet though, she stays silent, leaving the room open for you to speak on what has been clouding both of your minds since Sam walked out the door last night.

You can’t. You just fucking can’t.

You continue pounding into her, the sound of your skin slapping together bouncing off the hotel room walls, uncaring of who could hear as they passed by in the hallway. Her whines become more desperate as your grip on her neck tightens, but you need her to know you’re serious about this, about how she blew you off without hardly a word.

You pull yourself from her, standing onto the floor and reaching to turn her body around to lie on her stomach. You grip her ankles, yanking her down to stand on the floor with you before you press her top half down onto the bed, effectively bending her in half.

You re-enter her from behind, gripping a hand in her hair as you turn her head to the side. Her cheeks are pink and puffy, her eyes glazed over with pleasure. Your thrusts feel unhinged and sloppy as you feel the sweat pooling between your eyebrows and across your chest.

“Tell me you’re mine, Y/N…” you lean down, growling in her ear. “Say this is more than just sleeping together…”

She takes a sharp inhale as you drive yourself particularly deep. “I’m not yours, Jacob…that’s the thing. You—you never told me you wanted something m-more than this…” she breathes.

You grit your teeth as you realize she’s right yet again. I’m not yours…

When you don’t answer her, she speaks up again. “D-do you want to be…mine?” She coos, almost a whisper that stands out against the loud obscenities happening in the room.

Fuck… there it is, the fourth wall, broken.

You open your mouth to answer her, yes, yes! I want to be yours, I want you to be mine… but only air escapes your lips. Suddenly when you look down at the beautiful woman you’re having sex with, all you can see is Isla.

All you can feel is guilt. All you can experience is remorse, and regret, and wrongfulness…

You feel like a shell of yourself. This isn’t right, you and Isla are done. Over with. You can’t stand the thought of being with anyone else except Y/N even if you tried.

But there, the image of the gorgeous face of your first love is burying itself deep into the fibers of your being.

You don’t love Isla anymore. Your subconscious is just telling you you need to make this right.

“Jake…” her voice pulls you from your thoughts. “Guess I’ll take that as a no…”

You pull her hair again, lifting her body back to stand with yours, back to chest. “You take that as no one else can fuck you like I do…no one else can make you feel like I can, isn’t that right, baby?” you crow, avoiding the subject altogether. Stupid. Fucking stupid.

You continue fucking into her, her hands reaching back behind you to twist into your hair as you feel her getting closer; your words making her come unraveled. “Tell me I’m right, tell me it’s just me…”

She keeps quiet as she steps one knee followed by the other onto the bed, arching her back and stepping her knees apart for you to sink more deeply into her. Fuck, this view…

“God damnit baby, you don’t know what you do to me…” you purr, grabbing her asscheeks with both hands as your thrusts become erratic and jagged, you almost forget that she didn’t answer you.

Her cries become deafeningly high as your fingers dig into her, unbridled and vicious, both of you searching for that high you are so close to reaching.

“Ja-aaake…” she cries, her legs shaking and jerking as you feel her muscles fluttering around you as she unravels, and you aren't far behind. You pull out, sending your streams across her back as your vision blinds you with white light.

You both stay in that position for a minute or so as you catch your breath, skin hot and dripping as you feel the weight of the situation come down over you. You slip to the bathroom to get her a warm cloth, returning back to the room to get her cleaned up.

As the two of you lay spent and sweaty on the sheets you hear her phone buzz on the dresser and realize you left yours in your room. You roll towards her as she reaches for it, swiping away a calendar notification with a gentle sigh. You press a kiss to her bare shoulder, watching her eyes blink slowly as she looks at the screen. You want to talk to her. You want to tell her everything that happened between you and Isla. Everything that is still happening. But again, you fear ruining what feels like such a perfect moment with something so dark and twisted.

“Early day tomorrow,” she says, her voice tired.

“Yeah, I think we have a few interviews before soundcheck,” you confirm. “Though, I don’t know what time. I left my phone in my room.”

“How come?”

“Oh, um, no reason. Just didn’t need it. You’re the only person I wanted to talk to I suppose,” you answer.

“You should probably check, you might have to be up early too,” she grins.

“I guess I could go grab it,” you smile back, feeling a warmth in your chest that she doesn't want you to leave.

You stand up from the bed, pulling your sweats back on and your shirt over your head. You pull your room key from your pocket and just as you are about to speak she stops you.

“I’ll see you in the morning?”

Oh. Oh you got this all wrong.

Fuck.

You clear your throat in surprise, “Oh um. Yeah, yeah I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Jake…”

“Night, beautiful,” you answer, walking towards her door. You step through the doorway feeling more confused than you ever had. After the sex, what she said, everything in between, her actions were not meeting up with her words.

You spend the entire walk back to your room thinking about it. You just got booty called and kicked to the curb. While this is typically something that wouldn’t bother you, tonight it did. It stings a little, mostly because it was her. You try not to think too much more about it as your door shuts behind you, and as you step over to find your phone right where you left it, you see a missed call from Isla, only driving in the knife in your chest a little deeper.

—

HER POV

As you rip the plastic covering off a veggie tray, you hear the green room door squeak open, revealing the smiling face of Murph popping inside.

“Hey, you all good in here?” he asks, glancing around to find you alone and busy. “Need a hand with anything?”

You grin and shake your head side to side. “No, I’m all good, thanks. You not busy rushing around chasing after those four?”

He bites his upper lip. “Um, yes. I am. Just wanted to say hello.” His hand slaps the wooden door as you give him a thankful smile, and it swings closed as he leaves you alone again.

Just wanted to say hello, huh?

Your chest feels warm at his little sentiment, as careless as it was. The morning spent with him was nothing short of a mental reset, seeing as how the life you’ve been living with Jake now feels like a rollercoaster that’s about to break apart at the highest point. You’d spent your morning laughing and sharing stories with Murph as he expertly navigated the streets of Paris, your mind effortlessly drifting away from the impending drama that Ruth had discovered. Murph took your mind off it without even trying.

You hear your text notification ding on your phone as you finalize the craft table, and you pull it out to see a text from Ruth.

Ruth

4:59PM: You’re still ignoring him, right? Not giving him the time of fucking day, RIGHT?

You

5:00PM: Well, yes and no…

Ruth

5:00PM: BITCH? What do you mean????

You dust your hands off and take a seat on the couch, crossing your legs and remembering that someone could invade your privacy at any given minute.

You

5:01PM: We kinda… hooked up again last night?

Ruth

5:02PM: ALKSJFLSKGFHLKSDJFBNL

5:02PM: Please tell me you’re fucking joking…

You

5:03PM: 😬

Ruth

5:03PM: Oh my fucking goddddd Y/N okay. Okay! It’s fine. I hate you, what the fuck?

You

5:04PM: I DONT KNOW! Listen. I was trying to give him an opportunity to talk to me. And he didn’t. If it’s any consolation, he tried to act all big and bad about hooking up, and I didn’t play into it AT ALL. In fact I kicked him out promptly after.

Ruth

5:06PM: I’m screaming into the void.

5:06PM: So what now?

You

5:06PM: Now nothing. I’m back to avoiding him.

Ruth

5:06PM: Ok slay I guess.

You

5:07PM: And I guess that we will go out tonight after the show.

Ruth

5:02PM: Just the two of you? Or is Hottie McSexy coming along too?

You

5:03PM: Everyone usually goes. And seeing as how it’s his job to be up their asses, I’m positive McSexy will be there too.

Ruth

5:04PM: Okay and maybe The Rat will take this opportunity to explain to you that he has a female counterpart waiting for him at home, yes? Since he didn’t do it before FUCKING YOU last night?

You

5:05PM: I’m hoping. Until then, I ignore him harder.

Ruth

5:05PM: That’s my boo thang. Lmk how it goes.

You scroll up in your texts with Ruth, seeing the dreaded screenshots of Jake with her, sitting comfortably together on what you imagine to be their porch swing. She’s so fucking pretty… he’d be stupid to let her go?

You take a deep breath, the reminder of it all making you build your wall up even higher. You glance at his backpack sitting in the corner where he always tends to leave it, making the decision that tonight, you won’t fulfill his request for grabbing his wine. Honestly, he can figure something else out. There are plenty of options in the refrigerator. Fuck it.

—

You stay absent when they take the stage, requesting that Paul hand them their drinks tonight, as you have a “female emergency” to attend to in the restroom. Complete lie, but he doesn’t ask questions. You hide away in the restroom as you envision Jake’s confusion when Paul doesn’t have a drink to hand him. Paul normally doesn’t have much to do during the actual shows, so grabbing a drink or two for Jake shouldn’t be an issue.

After about ten minutes of hiding you rejoin Paul, noticing that he had grabbed a few seltzers for Jake and lined them up beside his amp. Ha ha. Watching the show alone from side stage feels strange tonight as Ty, Mia, and Lyla have decided to stand on Sam’s side. You hang back in the wings a bit, distracting yourself from watching Jake try his best to get your attention for the entirety of the show. But you don’t let him get the best of you, intentionally ripping your eyes away from him each and every time eye contact is made.

After the encore, you energetically hand Josh, Danny, and Sam their towels, showing little to no emotion in the act of handing Jake his, at all. You have to let him know you’re upset. And if he doesn’t pick up on your body language and lack of communication, he will at least notice your blatant ignorance of his existence.

You fall into the middle of the group as everyone exits backstage toward the green room. “Hey, Y/N, talk to me…” you hear him say from behind you as he grabs your hand, pulling you back from following everyone else down the dimly lit hallway. “What’s going on?” he asks when you finally turn, his eyes full of heavy sorrow.

You rip your hand from his grasp, his touch feeling like a foreign stranger. “Nothing, Jake,” you lie, biting your tongue and turning to walk away.

“Hey, please, talk to me…” he begs, his hand raking across your back as you turn away. “I know I… we need to talk, I think…” his voice is strained over the loud sound of the exit song.

“You think?” you bark back, making harsh eye contact with him for the first time all night. He’s left speechless as Murph makes his way up behind you, pulling you away from the moment. He shines his flashlight onto the ground in front of Jake, ushering him along.

“Come on Jake, let’s get you out of here…” Murph pushes without even giving you a passing glance.

Jake gives him a quick look of distaste before giving you an up down, and following behind Murph as they make their way down the remainder of the hallway. You’re left standing alone in the darkness under the high metal beams of the stage, feeling more conflicted than ever. And not to mention, still seething with anger.

—

Your hands feel shaky as you busy yourself with cleaning up the food and drinks in the green room, your face flushed and your hearing muddled as the anger courses its way through your veins. It’s hot and loud, the guys all still amped up on post-show adrenaline and wanting to continue on their highs for the night.

“Where are we headed, guys?” Mia asks as she sits herself down on the couch.

“Ah, me Jake and Ty found a quiet little place earlier today, it was tiny and tucked away, we could go back there?” Josh speaks up, still clad in his shiny jumpsuit. You try your best to tune them out, pressing play on your phone to listen to whatever music was playing on your singular earbud.

“Doooooo they have… cheap beer?” Sam sings.

“I don't know about cheap, but they have beer…” Ty replies through a laugh.

“Perfect!” Sam yells as he stands from his seat. “Let us go!”

You notice how quiet Jake has stayed, a switch from his normal partaking in the rambunctiousness of post-show excitement with his brothers. You hear them all begin to get themselves together and file out. You know one of them is going to ask if you’re coming along, they always do. So you muster up the courage to make a decision, when all you really want to do is retreat back to your hotel room bed for the night.

But no. You know what?

“Y/N! You coming?” you hear Ty’s voice bellow over the group. You turn and catch his eyes as you watch him wink at you. He nods his head in a ‘come on’ motion. Ty always knows.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Jake pause, waiting for your answer.

“Yeah, I could use a drink tonight!” you say. “I’ll finish up here and be right behind you. Send me the address?”

“Sure thing, see you in a bit,” Ty responds. “It’s literally right around the corner.”

—--

You saunter confidently into the pub, finding your whole group to have taken up the majority of the place, it’s so small. Just like always, your eyes immediately click with Jake’s first, and when he doesn’t break the contact, you pull yourself away, latching on to Ty and Josh at the other end of the bar.

Just like in the green room, the air is heavy and hazy and loud, everyone still riding their highs and letting the drinks flow. You decide on something a little heavier tonight, knowing that you abso-fucking-lutely deserve it after the day you’d endured.

You catch sight of Murph posted in a corner booth, chewing on a toothpick as his head stays on a swivel. He catches you looking, giving you a tiny smile before letting his eyes scan the room again.

You make yourself at home on a barstool, and just before lifting a round of shots into the air with Ty and Josh, you feel Jake’s presence behind you again, interrupting you. You meet him with a questioning look, obviously perturbed at the feeling of his hand on your back as you try to celebrate with his twin.

“Go ahead,” he concedes, motioning for you to take the shot. So you do, never looking away from him as you let the liquor flow down your throat, urging yourself to not make a face as you swallow it down.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask, your voice sounding a little more vengeful than you’d meant to. The liquor is definitely already working. His face pulls back, shocked at your words. He almost looks hurt.

“Shit, I guess not…” he says. “I’ve just been–”

“Jake! Come here!” you hear Danny yell from a few tables away. “Hurry!”

Jake looks at Danny and back at you, and you raise your eyebrows toward him, urging him to go on. You can’t talk here. Not in this environment. And honestly, you’re having way too much fun getting drunk and ignoring him while you steal passing glances with Murph from across the room.

After a little while, Murph comes and sits at the barstool beside you, talking to Josh while you sit between them. They’re discussing something work-related, but Murph is purposefully leaning in to you, his toned torso brushing heavily into your shoulder. You’re not really listening to them, as your mind has gone absolutely fuzzy at the feeling of him touching you. What the fuckkkkkk. The tequila lining your veins most definitely isn’t helping the fact that you are wholeheartedly loving this, knowing that Jake is standing three feet away, watching it all unfold. And the best part is, you’re locked into your bar stool, unable to get up if you wanted to. They’ve caged you in.

“Isn’t that right, Y/N?” you hear Murph’s silky smooth drawl interrupt your thoughts.

“What? What?” you perk up.

“The twenty cases of water we loaded will most likely be gone in a week and a half, yeah?” he says, rolling the toothpick between his teeth as his eyes stay bouncing around the room.

“Oh! Yeah, actually, probably so, with the way the crew drinks it,” you agree, not really caring about the subject as Josh laughs it off.

“Murph, you know you’re horrible at paying attention to conversations?” you say without a shadow of a filter.

“What?” he asks through a smile.

“Your eyes. You never stop looking around. You hardly ever look someone in the eye when they’re talking to you…” you go on explaining. Josh has now abandoned the conversation, turning back to Ty.

You feel Murph lean in even closer to you, his mouth only inches from your ear. “I’m trained to watch, Y/N. Trained to always be aware, all of the time. But, I can assure you, when I’m not on the job, my attention is 100% focused on who I’m spending my time with.”

His words make your stomach swirl. “Mmm, I’d have to see it to believe it.”

He pulls back, his neck still twisting right to left to right again. “Maybe you will sometime.”

Just then, you feel your phone buzz in your lap, and you lift it to see a notification through the blurriness of your intoxicated vision.

‘Jake Added A Song to Your Shared Playlist: 🐥’

Your stomach drops as you know he is watching you see the notification. You open the playlist, scrolling to the bottom to see what in the hell he could have added right now.

Of course, ‘Don’t Let Me Down’ by the Beatles.

You scoff, feeling like if anyone is being let down, it’s you. You let your phone fall back into your lap before turning your attention back to your drink and to your conversation with Murph. You know Jake is watching, still, and you know that seeing you ignore him was only pissing him off more.

And for some reason, it gets you hot.

Stop it, Y/N, fuck. The horrid and ridiculous thoughts of Jake being jealous of you and the man sitting beside you has your stomach in excited knots, and you know it’s just the alcohol, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t absolutely turn you on, similarly to what had happened last night.

You feel the energy in the room shift as everyone begins to make moves to leave. You feel a little sad, realizing that your intoxication has only just hit its peak. “Aw, we leaving already?” you ask no one in particular.

“Looks that way…” Murph says as he stands from his stool. You catch sight of Jake sticking close to Josh and Danny as they make their way to the exit.

“Murph, my friend, why don’t you take the rest of the night off?” Dean says as he comes up behind you, laying a hand on Murph’s shoulder. “Monty and Sasha and I have got this, not a far walk back.”

“Oh, no no, it’s okay. I’m good…” he argues.

“Ah, come on, Murph! Stayyyyyy…” you beg playfully, giving him yearning eyes. But they were for good reason, you want him to stay.

“You’ve had a long day, kid. Rest of us relaxed while you loaded water. Stay. Have a beer or three…” Dean gives him no choice as he makes a quick exit, ushering the rest of the group out the door. Jake never even turns around.

“Well! Uh, that’s never happened before!” Murph says as he anxiously rubs his hands over his pants. “Guess uh, guess I’m off the clock?”

“Ha, ha! Guess you are!” you say confidently, sipping from your skinny straw. “Sir, this gentleman will have your largest pils,” you motion to the bartender, earning a nod.

“Oh, you ordering for me now?” Murph laughs, turning sideways in his stool to face you.

“Yeah, got a problem?” you say, bumping your shoulder into him and feeling more confident now that you aren’t under the watchful eye of everyone else.

The bartender sets the beer on a coaster in front of Murph, and he reaches for a salt shaker, sprinkling a little onto the foamy head of the draft. “Nah, no problem at all, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?!” you exclaim. “Aren’t I a little young to be referred to as that?” you ask.

He shakes his head as he takes a drink. “No, where I’m from, everyone of equal age or older is referred to as ma’am, or sir. ‘S just how I was raised, not meant to be offensive.”

“Oh,” you say, still surprised. “Of equal age, how do you know how old I am?” you press.

He sets his beer down, rubbing his hands against each other. You catch sight of his calloused palms and gritted fingernails, being instantly attracted that he works with his hands. “Well, I know you’re over twenty-three, twenty-four because, obviously, you have no problem holding your liquor… you’re not over thirty-five, because you just called a beer a Pils. You have experience in your profession and you hold yourself well, and you got really excited and knew all the words when that Nickelback song randomly came on the radio in the truck this morning.”

Oh, my god? He… pays attention…

“Sooo…” you mutter.

“So, I’m going to guess… twenty-six.”

Your jaw falls open. “Holy shit.”

He smiles smugly as he takes a large drink of his beer, reaching his hand up to pat himself on the back.

“How did you do that?” you ask, stunned.

He shrugs. “It’s a gift, I’m also trained to read people.” He leans in, giving you a playfully suspicious glare.

“Okay, so read something else,” you urge, sitting up taller in your seat.

You feel the skin on your chest turn red as you try to hold your confidence. He takes a deep breath, scanning his eyes all over you. “Something is bothering you tonight. You don’t normally drink tequila, only when you’re trying to forget about something, distract yourself. You keep checking your phone but you’re keeping it face-down, so you don’t get caught off guard by a notification. You’re choosing when you let yourself look at it, telling me you like to be in control of situations. And, if I had to guess, what’s bothering you has something to do with that important call you missed this morning.”

Holy shit…again. What the…

“Alright, alright, you can stop now,” you wave him off, turning away and sipping from your straw again.

You hear him laugh through his nose. “Told you, it’s a gift.”

“Yeah well, you– you’re too good,” you bark.

His hand gently sits on your arm, the warmth emanating off his palm. “Hey, just forget about it, whatever it is. We’re here to have some fun, huh?”

His words are friendly and reassuring as you feel that same swirl erupt in your stomach again. “Yeah, you’re right,” you concede. “Fun. Actually, ever since they left, your eyes haven’t scanned the room even once.”

He blushes. “I can relax, Y/N, if given the opportunity.” His eyes fall to your lips, and you watch as he sucks in a tight breath, feeling no embarrassment that you caught him in the act. You reach your tongue to swipe across your bottom lip, taking the entirety of him in with your eyes, too. Suddenly visions of you and Jake last night come flying back into your memory, but you push them away, knowing that it’s only your subconscious telling you you’re about to make a rash decision. But you go against your gut, knowing that you had given Jake more than enough chances to make things right. And he had taken exactly zero of them.

You place a hand on the edge of your stool, leaning in closer to him. “Are you enjoying your opportunity?” you whisper.

You feel the unfamiliar but welcome graze of his light touch on your thigh, his hand barely ghosting up from your knee. “Very, very much so…”

There’s a heavy pause in the conversation as the two of you inch in closer, so close that you can feel his exhales hitting your lips. His eyes are darting quickly across your face as you feel his breathing pick up a little, the warmth of his body physically pouring itself on to you. Your heart is beating so fast you can hardly stand it, and the anticipation of his proximity is making you more dizzy than the tequila did.

You breathe in heavily through your nose, the smell of his cologne finally making sense in your mind. Pine. He smells like pine.

As your lips barely ghost his, a zap of electricity courses through your body, and Jake is the absolute furthest thing from your mind. All you can think about is Murph. All you can feel is him, he’s surrounding you, clouding up your mind entirely…

His breath hitches at the tiniest bit of contact that’s made and you take a second to press into him a little further.

“Murph…” you whisper against him. “What’s your real name?”

You can tell he’s holding himself back, letting you be the one to make the attempt to finally connect the two of you. Your eyes flutter closed as your ears go almost completely deaf, taking in the feeling of the softness of his lips as they smile sweetly against yours.

“Ezra… Ezra Murphy,” he breathes.

“Ezra…” you repeat, kissing into his mouth with the utmost caution while letting all of your insecurities tumble down around you. Suddenly there’s no sound, there’s no light, there’s no air left in your lungs… just him, only him, and the tightness of his hand on your thigh as he kisses you back. You lean into him, opening your mouth just a little bit more to let him in. His thick mustache is rough on your skin, but you couldn’t care less. You feel his tongue barely press through before pulling back again… the tiny breaths going in and out through his nose only adding to the sweet taste of him. His other hand finds your cheek, his thumb drifting across your chin as his fingertips gently grip at your skull. Fuck, he feels good… he feels really, really fucking good…

You exhale hard as you disconnect the fairly quick kiss, a stunned and surprised look of intrigue taking over both your haughty expressions. “Wow…” you mutter.

“Yeah, wow…” he parrots. “I’ve wanted to do that all night…”

“Uh-uhm…” you hear someone behind him clear their throat. You both disconnect contact as you turn around, finding none other than Josh holding his credit card between his two fingers, tapping its edge on the bar. “Sorry to uh, interrupt…” he says, forcing a fake smile. “Forgot my card.”

Fuck. Shiiiiiit. Oh fuck fuck fuck.

“Oh, no big deal, man. You uh, you need me to walk you back?” Murph collects himself, turning directly back into work mode.

“No no, stay here. Monty’s outside,” Josh responds, looking directly at you. “You two enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Josh walks away and disappears through the door as you’re left completely stunned, unable to form a thought. Murph spins back around to face you, a little bit taken aback himself. “That was kinda awkward…” he laughs.

“You think?” you try to laugh along, all the while feeling an overwhelming wave of emotions.

Embarrassed, confused, pissed, turned on…

“Um. You uh, you ready to go back?” Murph asks, wiping his fingers across his lips as he throws some money down onto the bar.

“Think that’s probably best,” you agree, standing to grab your jacket off the back of the stool.

As you and Murph walk silently back to the hotel, the alcohol hits you a little differently, adding heavier emotions than you could bear to carry. You want to reach out and grab his hand, let him steady you as you stumble your way back home, but you know that’s not in your best interest, right now. He gives you tiny smiles and offers to open the lobby doors, letting you walk inside before him to the elevator doors.

You both climb inside as the doors close behind you. “You want me to walk you the rest of the way up?” he asks, knowing he is getting off a few floors before you.

You lean your back against the wall of the elevator, crossing your arms across your chest. “No, I’ll be okay. Thank you, though.” Your voice feels heavier as the elevator ascends.

Finally, the elevator stops and the doors open to his floor. “Wait, Murph…” you stop him. He turns back to face you, his hand stopping the doors from closing. “I uh, I had fun with you, tonight.”

His lips curl up into a small smile. “Me too, Y/N. Thanks for helping me relax, I’m actually a little sad it got cut short…” he says.

“Me, too,” you agree with a nod, and he steps back from the sliding doors, offering you a wave of goodnight before the doors enclose you and your thoughts completely.

As you walk back into your hotel room ready to strip down and let the warmth of the covers envelop you again, you somehow wish you could take it all back. Wish you would have never been seated next to Jake on that very first flight. Wish you would have never followed him into that random bar bathroom…

Your mind is so fuzzed up it almost feels blank. You like Jake, you really do. But the longer he waits to tell you the truth, the more resentment you hold toward him. The last thing you want to be is someone who destroys a home. The shame you feel for even texting him last night is one of the heaviest you’ve ever felt in your life.

And Murph, his protection… blissfully unaware of the entire situation at all, being a gentleman and treating you with open kindness. Fuck. It’s all so fucked.

You’re feeling your eyelids start to droop as you hear your phone buzz beside you, the light blinking you awake.

It’s not a text, though…it’s an instagram notification.

There in the center of your screen is a request from Jake’s partner herself.

Ms. Isla J. Whitman would like to be your friend.

Isla…

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