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theperfectawful · 2 days

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Blind Item / Chapter 1

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC

Chapter 1: Gimme More

Rating: Explicit (18+) Series Summary: 2007. Hollywood, CA. As a former child star, you face the harsh reality of growing up in the unforgiving spotlight. A car crash on Sunset Boulevard and a cocaine scandal give you one option: Rehab. Reluctantly agreeing, you embark on a 90-day stay at Promises Malibu to attempt to salvage your career. But when Dieter Bravo arrives, your journey takes an unexpected turn. Drawn to each other, you navigate sobriety and the wreckage of your reputation. As the double standard of Hollywood's treatment of troubled stars becomes evident, you question if redemption is truly possible in a world of unequal consequences. Word Count: 11k

Content/Warnings: Age gap (~10 years, Dieter is in his mid-thirties), alternating POV, heavy drug use, illegal drug use, alcohol use, driving under the influence, frenemy dynamics, oral sex (f!receiving), dubcon/noncon, it is neither reader nor Dieter's finest hour when we meet them. Period-typical language and behavior, Hollywood assholes.

Notes: This is my first fic - I've never written or posted anything like this before, so please be kind and feel free to share any feedback or suggestions. I never would have been able to write something like this, let alone work up the nerve to post it, if it hadn't been for the kind and gracious support of @pennyserenade, @whatsnewalycat and @frannyzooey all lending me their advice when I slid into their DMs. They all inspire me endlessly with their work and talent and it’s because of their work that I was inspired to write something of my own.

Our reader is, for now, and unnamed OC. While I’ve done my best to avoid using physical descriptors of her, it should be noted that this story is a period piece that takes place in early 2000s Hollywood. The main character would have been a contemporary of stars like Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan and Nicole Richie, and there are certain assumptions I’ve made about what she looks like based on that factor of this particular story. The early 2000s could be dark, ruthless times, y'all, especially for young women in and effected by Hollywood. My intention is to examine that. Thank you for reading!

Desperate times call for desperate measures: sources say that this former child star’s team is working overtime to keep her employed. When she made her not-so-graceful exit from her latest film, the star cited conflicting schedules as the reason for her departure. The film’s producer has a different story: the Hollywood juggernaut has been heard around town calling the star unprofessional, accusing her of being late to her call times and using drugs in her trailer. She’s got a shot at a last resort: a return to television. Word is, the bad publicity has her team bargaining and drawing out sober contracts just to get her hired.

Whenever you were in town for work, you stayed at the Chateau Marmont. You were in Los Angeles often enough and long enough to justify buying a home there, but you refused, the idea of actually owning a home in LA never quite sitting right with you. Instead, you rented the same room each time you visited. You loved that little bungalow. The thick, lush landscaping shaded the windows and kept it nice and cool inside, and your front door was only a stone's-throw from the swimming pool.

It felt like home after a few years, anyway. These old, tucked-away places were what you liked most about Los Angeles, unlikely, quiet havens hidden between sky-high condos and overly sleek offices. The building breathed old-Hollywood luxury, vintage tiles and original hardwood floors and the ghosts of silent film stars wandering the hallways. The staff knew you well. The same breakfast was delivered to your door at noon every day. The top-tier maid service employed by the hotel kept the living room, kitchen, bathrooms and second bedroom impeccably tidy, though they were given clear instructions not to enter your bedroom.

Your bedroom did not inspire the same glamorous aesthetic as the rest of the hotel. Clothing was piled high against the walls and pouring out of dresser drawers, tags and receipts discarded in the wake. Empty bottles cluttered the hardwood floors, clear, crushed water bottles and rattly orange pill canisters. A full ashtray sat on a side table, a makeup mirror and various products scattered next to it.

In the middle of the room was a king-sized bed, an antique walnut headboard sprawling against the wall with a mountain of sheets and blankets layered atop a deep mattress. You laid swaddled in those sheets, rubbing your palms into your shut eyes and groaning as you rolled over, dragging your hands wide across your face to peek out at the clock on your nightstand.

4:41pm. You blinked, straining your eyes to focus and confirm you read that right. 4:41pm. Fuck.

Bleary-eyed, you reached for your phone, met immediately by a barrage of missed calls and unread messages when you slid it open.

MELANIE [3:21 AM]: Bathrrom

PETE [3:36 AM]: Did u leave

CORINNE [9:00 AM]: Call with NBC @ 1. Please be available. Corinne Roxford.

MISSED CALL: CORINNE

CORINNE [11:30 AM]: Confirming availability at 1pm. Corinne Roxford.

(212) 555-4325 [12:06 PM]: Hey gorgeous ;)

MISSED CALL [12:30 PM]: CORINNE

MISSED CALL [12:45 PM]: CORINNE

MISSED CALL [1:00 PM]: CORINNE

CORINNE [1:03 PM]: ??? Corinne Roxford.

MISSED CALL [1:05 PM]: CORINNE

CORINNE [1:07 PM]: Call immediately. Corinne Roxford.

“Hiiiii,” a soft, tired voice called from across the room. You looked up, squinting, at your best friend Natalie leaning in the doorway to the bathroom.

“Mmmm,” you hummed in response, peeking out from where you lay buried in the sheets. “Hi.”

She crossed the room, kicking piles of clothes out of the way and perched herself on the corner of the bed, her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. You cracked open one eye, locking eyes with her. In an unspoken acknowledgment of your situation - what you got into last night, the state you’re currently in, the splitting headache you’re certain she has, too - you raised an eyebrow at her. She smirked back at you and the two of you erupted into laughter. You lifted yourself up to sit, pushing your foot into her side from under the covers.

“You were insane last night!” she accused, still smiling as she resumed brushing her teeth.

“Me!” your voice was raspy and you coughed. “Me? You were the one making out with the bartender.”

“He wasn’t a bartender. He said he was with the DJ or something.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s better,” you snorted, the sound muffled by the plush pillows that cradled your head. You rubbed your palms across your face again, feeling the coarse texture of your own tired skin. The room was dimly lit, with the soft glow of morning seeping through the half-closed blinds.

Your phone vibrated on the nightstand, disrupting the quiet ambiance. You picked it up, groaning when you saw your manager’s name blaring across the bright screen. With a sigh, you slid it open.

“Hi, Corinne,” your voice was a hoarse whisper as you did your best to sound alive. Natalie stirred from her spot and crossed back to the bathroom, old floorboards creaking underneath her feet.

“I needed you on that call this morning. This is your career I’m trying to save here. Do you think I’m doing all of this for my health?”

“I mean… you’re not not…” It’s out of your mouth before you can stop it. She is on your payroll.

“Very funny. I don’t think I need to remind you that you’re running out of friends and favors here, hun. I don’t think you want me to join that list.” Her sentence was punctuated by the sound of her horn honking and a muttered expletive. She sighs. “NBC still wants to speak with you, and soon, but they want to do a four-episode Growing special. The rest of the cast is on board, and they think if we play this right we can turn into a full-on reboot. But you have to straighten up, do you understand? I need you in the Santa Monica office first thing Monday to sign the paperwork.”

“I’ll be there. I promise.” Your eyes closed again, and you sunk into the plush embrace of the king-sized bed, the soft cotton fabric soothing against your skin.

“I don’t know how to make it any more clear to you how much trouble all of us are in. This is your shot at a comeback.”

“I understand.”

There’s a bit of silence, the noise of New York traffic floating through the airwaves and into your ear. You insisted on total honesty from Corinne, unable to tolerate your team coddling you, so her words might have hurt more if this was the first time you’d heard them. Or maybe if the haze you’d woken up in were a bit thinner.

“Tomlin and the team will be in on Thursday night to get you ready for the VMAs. I’ll see you then, too.” Corinne changed the subject, her voice a mix of stern professionalism and genuine concern.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Your voice was sickeningly sweet, a defensive baby voice you switched into when you were nervous, a trademark of yours that had been mocked by everyone from ex-boyfriends to the cast of Saturday Night Live. Corinne said goodbye and you felt Natalie’s weight return to your side.

You groaned, long and drawn out, tossing your phone into the labyrinth of sheets and blankets surrounding you. The show she referred to was a reboot of the sitcom you spent your childhood working on - Growing Together. It's one-half cast reunion, one-half desperate, nostalgic cash-grab. The producer you sat across from at the pitch meeting was almost delirious with excitement - explaining what a smashing success it was sure to be, a “televised homecoming for America's favorite family.” It took so much strength not to roll your eyes right in front of him that you thought you’d pop a blood vessel.

“Are you in trouble?” Natalie asked, a teasing tone in her voice.

"Yeah, almost always," you replied, casual in your admission. As you sat up, fully awakening, you stretched and planted your feet on the floor. You chugged the warm Vitamin Water on your nightstand before reaching for your bag on the floor and digging through its contents. Gum, a fluorescent orange paper wristband, a baby pink Juicy Tube, a black and white photobooth strip of you and Natalie with your tongues out. Not finding what you were looking for, you dumped it out onto your bed and continued rummaging through the items and garbage inside. Your iPod, a receipt from the drugstore, 3 loose cigarettes and half a dozen empty quarter-sized plastic bags. You sighed, shoving everything back inside carelessly.

“Did we finish everything last night?” You call out, patting the bed behind you, your gaze darting around in search of your phone.

“We?” Natalie’s laughter rang through the room. “I don’t know about ‘we!’”

“God, no wonder,” you muttered, the realization of this morning's particularly splitting headache dawning. Locating your phone again, you typed out a text message to your dealer, padding out of your room to the kitchen.

[5:13 PM]: Andyyyyyy. U going to Lush tonight?

You tapped the side of your phone restlessly for a beat, then texted again.

[5:13 PM]: Can you bring what u brought last night

In the kitchen, you opened the cabinet, revealing an array of neatly arranged pill bottles. Without looking, you pulled out a bottle of Advil and an empty glass. Seated at the kitchen table, engrossed in her Macbook, was your assistant, Rhea.

“Corinne’s pissed.” She said before she even looked at you, focused intently on the screen in front of her.

“Good morning,” you responded, filling your glass at the sink and beaming an exaggerated, pageant-queen smile at her. She scoffed in response.

“The sun is going down in… 40 minutes.” she retorted, her gaze flitting momentarily to the clock on the wall, then back down. You made a mockingly offended expression, hands lifting with dramatic flair.

“Time is a social construct, Rhea,” you declared, tossing back the Advil and chasing them with the full glass of water.

“Yeah, for you, maybe.” She muttered, still typing like a maniac.

You were fired six weeks ago.

The movie was meant to signal a departure for you, a leap into serious territory - a drama marking an overdue graduation from the teeny-bopper films you’d spent the last decade of your life making. You’d been lucky a year ago - a really excellent writer took a chance on an elevated high school comedy with you at the helm that had people in the industry, finally, taking you more seriously.

Seriously enough to get you in the door, at least. Being on set gave you a different impression. You felt as coddled as ever, still treated like an unqualified child star whose presence was more of a slightly annoying novelty than a creative asset.

You wanted to be treated like an adult - a real actress, a professional. This movie was supposed to accomplish that. Despite the fact that this project had a huge, award-winning director attached to it, it was subject to the same issues you’d experienced on countless, lower-tier productions. Poorly communicated call times, technical issues, handsy producers hanging around your trailer. The latter issue caused you to insist on Rhea being by your side whenever possible - power in numbers in an attempt to keep greasy Hollywood exec’s hands away from you.

You weren’t going out any more often than you usually did. Now that you were old enough to not have to sneak into clubs anymore, you were having fun. Though your evenings often bled into mornings, occasionally pushing the limits of your call times, it felt manageable. However, Corinne was relentless in reminding you of the stakes and your professional expectations: show up, behave, perform.

That morning, exhaustion hung over you more heavily than usual. The night before, you’d been out celebrating Natalie’s 23rd birthday. A friend of hers had just returned from Amsterdam and brought with him a bag of European ecstasy as a souvenir. After Le Deux closed, you threw an after party at the Chateau’s pool, you and Nat drank champagne on your floaties as the chemicals rushed through your systems. Your fingers dipped in and out of the heated pool, the two of you gossiping and giggling and floating along until the sun came up.

You were on set on time - early, in fact - but the MDMA had worn off and your energy was plummeting fast. You’d run through the scene several times with Rhea, but it didn’t seem to have helped much.

“Cut,” the director called out, sighing and stepping out from his position behind the camera. Your costar groans softly, standing up from his spot across from you and stepping away as the surrounding crew moves quickly to reset the scene.

“I’m sorry Alan,” you offered immediately as the director approached your mark. A makeup artist swoops in, tapping a brush to your under eyes.

“You’re furious with him, remember,” he coached you. “I understand it’s early, but I need you to manage to muster up some energy.”

You nodded, trying to focus despite the persistent buzzing in your head. “I’m really sorry.”

“I don’t need you to apologize to me like a punished child, I just need you to perform the way I’ve asked you to. Can you do that?”

"I'll get it right this time, I promise," you assure him softly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

He eyed you skeptically, his weaning lack of patience with you made clear by his expression.

“We’ll break for five.” He called out to the room, still staring at you as you stood up and shuffled off behind him.

Rhea arrived at your side with your cell phone and a Red Bull. You flip open the screen as you walk, quickly scrolling through your text messages and trying to distract yourself from your dull, nagging headache.

“That was okay, right?” You asked, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the uncertainty in your voice. “Is it as bad as he says?”

“You were fine,” Rhea’s voice was uncharacteristically high-pitched as she held out the straw of your energy drink in front of you. Her eyes flit back and forth, scanning the area, and her voice lowers into a whisper as she continues. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m tired,” You brushed her off, shaking your head and handing your phone back to her. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

Rhea nods, a concerned eyebrow lifting as you arrive at your trailer. Everyone in your life was looking at you like that lately - as if doing anything less than completely coddling you would cause you to fly off the handle. The cautious glances, the careful choices of words, the subtle tiptoeing around your every move - especially from Rhea, who never gave a fuck about your feelings - it all grated on your nerves like an itch beneath the surface.

She held out her hand and you took it quickly, grabbing an orange bottle from her and slipping through the door of your trailer.

In your trailer, you sat at the vanity and closed your eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths before opening them and gazing at yourself in the mirror. You opened the bottle, pouring out two small pills on the counter in front of you. Scanning the surface quickly, you located a plastic card and pushed it against the pills with the ball of your hand. You pushed it again and again, finally finishing and scraping the excess powder from the card onto the table. Dragging the powder into two lines, you leaned down to inhale them and stood straight back up. You licked your finger and picked up the excess residue, pushing it into your gums and taking a couple more deep breaths to re-center yourself.

The acrid taste of the pills gave you a Pavlovian surge of energy, the anxious buzz in your chest subsiding and easing into a steady hum. You sat at the mirror, dragging a finger underneath your eye to wipe smudged eyeliner from your face. You sniffled, forcing the action into another deep breath and staring at yourself in the mirror. You belong here. You do. You know what you’re doing.

A sharp knock at the door pulled you back to reality with a jump.

“Jesus,” You called out “Alright, Rhea, one second!”

“It’s Alan. Open the door.”

Fuck. You frantically began cleaning the counter in front of you - slipping the credit card into your pocket and brushing your hands across the surface.

“Now!” Alan boomed from outside.

“Okay, okay!” You moved to the door and turned the lock, opening the door just enough for him to see you. You sniffled again, trying to camouflage the reaction with a cough. “Yes?”

Pushing the door firmly, Alan moved into your trailer, his body dwarfing yours in the small space.

“Listen to me,” he said, low but firm. “I’m done. I’m not doing this with you. I am not letting you fuck up my movie.”

“What?” You were dumbstruck.

“Don’t play dumb. Not now. You know exactly what I mean.” He was inches from your face now and getting angrier by the minute. You swallowed, desperately looking around for Rhea. Tears stung the corners of your eyes and you fought them, willing yourself not to blink.

“They’re prescribed,” you attempt. It doesn’t work.

“I don’t care what you do on your own time,” he continued “But this is mine. This is important to me and to everyone else out there whose livelihoods depend on this project, and I’m not going to let some spoiled, coked-out little actress spoil it.”

Your face burned with humiliation.

“Corinne fought hard to get you on this project. This was more of a fucking favor to her than you. But this movie does not live and die by your actions, do you understand me? You can kill yourself if you insist, but you will not pull my movie down with you. You’re fired.”

Your jaw dropped. You were unable to find words let alone choke them out. Rhea’s face was stark white when you spotted her just outside the door of your trailer, her cell phone firmly against her cheek, whispering into the receiver with her eyes wide.

“This is no longer viable for me or anyone else on this crew. I want you off my set now.”

You couldn’t move, your heart pounding in your chest. He stood there for another moment before exiting the trailer and slamming the door behind him. The force of the slam caused the door to open slightly, revealing Alan standing in front of Rhea.

“I don’t want to see you here again.” He said to her, loud enough for you to hear, his voice stern and uncompromising. “You’re lucky I don’t call the cops on you for bringing drugs on my set.”

You hung in the doorway as he stormed away, and as the room swirls into focus you see the eyes of the crew on you, their faces filled with curiosity and concern. Turning your head, you quickly blinked away your tears and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand.

Officially, you’d been let go due to ‘scheduling conflicts’. It was flimsy, Hollywood jargon for your star showing up fucked up, and unfortunately, the euphemism did little to quell the relentless scrutiny surrounding you.

Rhea had shown you the footage of you that began making the rounds after your firing was announced - a creepy, shaky video leaked by some PA of Alan berating you on set, cut with another clip of you walking around the soundstage. It was embarrassing - your hair was disheveled and you were pacing around in a way that looked strange out of context, but there wouldn’t have been anything interesting about it at all if the rumor hadn’t gotten out that you’d been fired for your drug use. Since then, the attention on you had been relentless.

The paparazzi had been a regular part of your life since you were a young teenager. It, generally, wasn’t as bad in New York, which is part of the reason why you preferred to stay there, but in LA it felt as if you were never more than a few feet from a camera.

When you were 16 and working on your first film after Growing Together ended, you started going to clubs with your coworkers. No one ever gave you any trouble, and you didn’t even start drinking until you were 18, but despite that, the mere optics of a child star reveling in nightlife proved a lucrative angle for the media to exploit.

Since then, you were followed almost constantly. Leaving home, returning, getting groceries, getting your nails done, driving through McDonald’s - flashing lights in the corner of your eye were such a regular thing that you barely even noticed it anymore. There were photographers you knew at this point, friendly ones who knew your angles and creepy ones who constantly tailed your car.

It’d never been like this before, though. Literal throngs of photographers showed up anywhere you went, watching you like hawks, all waiting to swoop in on the slightest slip up. Going shopping was an event that needed to be scheduled in advance, boutiques needing to be warned that you’d be coming in so that they could prepare to lock doors behind you. Every step, every breath, felt scrutinized and captured for public consumption, leaving you suffocated beneath the weight of it all.

You were so angry about being let go - your behavior, truly, was no different from what any other actor your age was doing. You partied with your friends, you were out late sometimes, but you knew you were a good actress. It had been your passion since you were a child, and it was beyond frustrating to hear people tell you they loved you and wanted to see you win and then have them turn against you the moment you made a mistake.

So, although you’d behaved and spent the first week or two lying low at the insistence of Corrine, you were over it now. You stayed in LA, uninterested or unwilling to go home to your family and friends in New York and explain to them what's been going on. You were going out with Natalie every night, usually to Le Deux or Lush or Teddy’s. You stayed out late and slept in late and generally just did your best to avoid confrontation with any paparazzi or journalists or producers you’d pissed off.

You weren’t lying to Alan when you told him you were only taking what had been prescribed to you. It just happened that a lot of things had been prescribed to you. Lately, you’d been alternating between Adderall and MDMA for the last week or so, making you too speedy and anxious to really dwell on the current state of your career. You were, admittedly, running through your prescriptions more quickly than usual, causing you to need to make some calls in order to fill in the gaps.

Throughout dinner, you anxiously slid the screen to your Sidekick open and shut, open and shut. You thumbed through the wheel of apps, trying to will into existence a text from Andy that didn’t seem to be coming. It’s not exactly like you expected rigid punctuality from the guy who sold you drugs, but his radio silence was making you antsy.

[9:05pm]: Hellooooooooo

Natalie exclaimed as a tray of shots was delivered to the table, echoed by the group of acquaintances that you met up with at Don Antonios, the restaurant you always went to before a night out. Eagerly, you took one off the tray, blindly grabbing another as you knocked the first one back. You chased that shot with the other, the warmth of the liquid making you feel more like a human being and less like a raw nerve.

Seated to your right in the booth was a girl you kind of knew. She was always hanging out on the fringes of your group, some friend of a friend of a friend who was for sure going home and telling everyone she partied with you. She’d been gawking at you all night, beady eyes locked on you since you sat down, craning her neck and sitting uncomfortably close to you, your dress pinned under her studded jeans. You’d been resisting the urge to ask her what the fuck her problem was for the better part of an hour. As the group around you became distracted by the arrival of the shots, you seized the opportunity to confront her.

“Can you please get off of my dress?” you spat.

Her eyebrows shot up as she took her eyes off of you for what felt like the first time that evening to look down, apologizing and scooching over. She had tall red stilettos on and, when she looked back up at you, you could see the smudged mascara on her eyelid. Just as you were going to take the opportunity to move away from her, she leaned over to talk to you over the noise that surrounded you.

“Sorry. Hey, I’m Katie.”

You grimaced, not in the mood to talk to this person.

“Hi.”

You turn away for a beat, but your attention is grabbed again by Katie’s voice lowly in your ear.

“Hey, I have Xanax, if you want one,” the offer took you by surprise, the prospect lighting you up immediately.

“Oh, my god, I love you,” you said, quickly turning towards her and extending your palm. “Please?”

Downers really weren’t your thing, even booze wasn’t your favorite, but this evening was going to turn from boring to maddeningly insufferable fast if you didn’t get your hands on something.

“I know someone who needs one when I see them,” she laughed, discreetly dropping two pills into your palm.

The clubs in LA were the same thing every time. You showed up in big black SUVs, posed and made nice for the photographers outside for a moment and then clamored inside towards the booth that was waiting for your party.

It felt like high school. Well, you assumed, since your high school experience took place entirely on set. You saw the same people everywhere, all scattered around the room, broken up into their own little cliques. All gossiping, the room alive with murmurs and whispers. Who’d just shown up? Who was fighting with who? Who’d stolen whose boyfriend? It all felt so juvenile, but not being here was worse, so you put up with it. The people changed, but not really - you usually ended up surrounded by the same cast of promoters, wannabe socialites and greasy LA club dudes, swapped out every couple weeks by stand-ins and understudies and new arrivals. They circled your table like vultures, mingled with one another and made use of your tab while you sat engrossed in your Sidekick.

The night became slightly more tolerable once you’d taken one of the bars Katie gave you, but you were still desperately trying to get a hold of a dealer. By the time you left the restaurant and were climbing into the backseat of your car to head to Lush, you’d even resorted to texting backup options, people you’d partied with once or twice who you suspected might be around.

Sinking into the plush booth, you let your head loll to the side, eyes shutting against the assault of strobing lights. The steady, pumping rhythm of the bass sent a rattle through your bones.

After a minute, Natalie's hand landed gently on your knee, snapping you back to reality.

“You okay, girl?” She asked. Her voice felt distant, barely audible over the pounding bass reverberating through the room. The glitter on her eyelids shimmered in the blue light, the only part of her face you could clearly make out in the shadowy corner of the booth.

“I’m fine,” you answered impatiently, kicking your feet up into the seat next to you. Just then, your phone finally buzzed, your heart skipping a beat as your dealer’s name flashed across the screen

ANDY [11:03PM]: not goin tonite

You scoffed, pausing for a second before furiously tapping out a response.

[11:03PM]: FUCK U ASSHOLE

You hit send and threw your phone into your purse with a huff. You were going to have to come up with something else. Or maybe just slit your wrists right here at the table instead.

You surveyed your group as bottle service brought two large bottles of tequila to your table along with a tray brimming with shots. knew all it would take was a couple hundred bucks from a photographer outside for them to spill about how you’d begged them for coke. They'd probably do it for free just for the attention. You'd already asked Katie, but all she had was Xanax and a joint, and Natalie would've let you know if she got a hold of anything else.

You started scanning the rest of the room, looking for anyone you knew. The club was packed, some sort of launch party that’d booked a huge DJ filling even the VIP section from wall to wall.

Suddenly, your attention was grabbed by the sound of a man shouting at the booth directly across from yours. He was the typical guy you'd find in places like this: a douchey-looking producer type, each of his arms wrapped around two miserable-looking models to his left and right. Intrigued, you followed his gaze to see who he was yelling at.

Oh, bingo.

Dieter Bravo. You recognized him instantly. An actor like you, you knew you’d seen him around at award shows and parties, but you’d never met. His reputation preceded him, though; you knew he partied, knew that he, too, had been let go from movies due to 'scheduling conflicts' more than once. You knew he’d been in trouble for drugs. Last you'd heard, he'd been in the news for cheating on his wife or something. You were certain that all it’d take was a little bit of flirting and buttering him up to get him to share whatever he had with you.

Without a word to anyone, you rose from your booth, ignoring Natalie's questioning as you strode towards Dieter's booth. Immediately, though, you lost your footing, lightheaded from standing up too quickly. You brushed it off, saved from a fall by someone at your booth. Straightening your dress, you grabbed a bottle of tequila before pivoting on your heel and starting back towards Dieter.

Dragged out against his will, Dieter was a guest of honor at a launch party for Elysium Fragrances, the cologne brand he’d shot a campaign for last year. His presence was requested tonight as a make-good for being a no-show at the launch of his own campaign, instead being spotted that evening by the California Highway Patrol speeding down the Pacific Coast Highway with a model in the passenger seat.

He’d been stopped by a cop as he attempted to pump gas, some asshole photographer seizing the opportunity to swoop in on the interaction and hurl all sorts of insulting names at his date. Dieter lost his patience, blowing past the cop to shove the paparazzo to the ground, shattering his camera in the process. He was arrested that evening on five charges - assault and battery, destruction of property, drunk and disorderly conduct, assault of an officer (come on) and, thanks to a thorough search of his car, possession with intent to distribute.

As his smug-faced mugshot circulated the tabloids, it eclipsed the glossy editorial photos that the brand had invested millions in. The extravagant campaign was reduced to a joke, its over-the-top glamour juxtaposed with candid snapshots of Dieter’s angry face shouting at the photographer.

Unbelievably, the brand hadn’t thrown him out then and there. He almost wished they had - he preferred the couple of nights he spent in jail to the following days spent in meetings, his team arguing with Elysium over their ability to sway this and use his reputation to their advantage. Ultimately, they maintained his status as a face of their brand as well as his 6 million dollar contract, with the stipulation that he shoot another campaign and make himself available for any event, launch or party the brand requested for the next year.

Being asked to party in exchange for six million dollars was a sweet deal - he understood that - but the reality of being a cosmetics brand’s puppet meant that he ended up at the same fucking parties week in and week out, always babysat by an appointed employee of the brand or, failing that, someone on his payroll.

Tonight was particularly torturous. The tabloids had latched onto the whispers of his crumbling marriage - rumors that were, fortunately or unfortunately, completely legitimate. Heidi was meant to be the one to tie him down, set him straight, clean him up. Their wedding photos looked like a fucking editorial, glossy photos ran with headlines predicting their domestic bliss. But a year and a half, a relapse, a DUI, and a string of affairs - all on his part - had shattered those illusions.

Last week, Dieter returned home from a 3-day bender to Heidi’s mother on the landing at the top of his stairs. She was screaming and hurling the contents of his closet at him, plus whatever else was within arms reach. Heidi, her once-bright eyes now dull with tears, cowered in a doorway behind her mother, slamming the door behind her when he called out in an attempt to reason with her. Her mom located his Oscar, hurling it towards his head with a warning to leave the house before she called the cops. He’d ducked just in time to avoid the statue concussing him, it instead crashing through the glass window of the door behind him.

The stories spread like wildfire, his team scrambling to reshape the narrative, casting Heidi as the cold, unfeeling spouse who couldn't handle his demons. They painted her as the villain, accusing her of rejecting him for his vices - after all, she knew who she married - all the while conveniently forgetting that she had stood by him through more than most people would be able to tolerate. It was an angle he wasn’t happy with; He may have been hedonistic but he wasn’t cruel. In the interest of giving her space and avoiding any additional negative attention sent her way, he moved out. He kept an apartment closer to town, and staying there made it that much easier to avoid any reminders of his failures.

The word on the poor, dejected husband had spread, causing every asshole he ran into tonight to look at him with the same pathetic, sympathetic expression. He resented their pity. He resented this party, this club, his obligation to be seen holding some stupid bottle of cologne in order to maintain his career. The four whiskies he'd downed had done little to numb him from it, and even the lines he'd snorted on the way over had failed to dull the edges of this evening.

You’d stumbled in about an hour ago, perching yourself in the booth across from his own. Your eyelids were heavy in a familiar way, his dirtbag instincts making him suspect you’ve popped a painkiller in addition to whatever you’ve been drinking. A group of giggly, hungry hangers-on swarmed around your table like flies, posing for pictures and parting only to let bottle service in and out.

Dieter knew you - or at least, he knew of you. The cute little starlet who always popped up next to him in the tabloids. He’d seen you in enough movies and on enough billboards to recognize your face, and he’d lurked around clubs like this often enough to have seen you before. Before you’d walked in, he’d resigned himself to an armchair as far back in the VIP section as he could find, determined to wait out the evening before bringing home whatever model ended up in his car. The whiskey he’d been drinking was only just beginning to kick in and he didn’t fight it, leaning back and willing the time to pass faster. But you… you were interesting.

Your gorgeous legs were stretched out along the booth, climbing up to the hem of your dress, a pink silky thing he imagined he could tear off of you with the smallest amount of force. Glossy lips pouted at your phone, eyebrows furrowed in a sweet little frustrated expression. When you looked up he didn’t look away - he kept his eyes trained on you as you looked around the room. You were looking for someone, obviously restless. A boyfriend? The thought twisted at his stomach uncomfortably and he willed himself to stop watching you, putting his glass to his mouth and draining it with a single swallow.

“Bravo!” a voice bellowed from his left, snapping him out of it. Clint - some hack from Elysium Fragrances and tonight’s designated narc waved enthusiastically from the booth next to him. “You gonna sit there and fuckin’ mope all night, bro?”

Fuck this guy. Like most of his brand-approved chaperones, he was content to accept the babysitting opportunity and spend the evening running up Dieter’s tab and shamelessly hitting on the girls at his table. The least he could do would be to leave him the fuck alone.

His attention returned to you when he heard a commotion from your direction. There you were, knees buckled, held at your elbow by one of the guys surrounding your booth. A couple of cell phone cameras lift and snap photos behind you as you attempt to compose yourself. He can’t take his eyes off of you as you stand back up, adjusting yourself, your little dress riding up for just a moment before you smooth it back into place.

The bottle he’d finished had begun to cloud his vision, so it took him a moment to realize you were stumbling towards him, your plush lips slightly parted as you swung a bottle of tequila at your side. Despite the haze, your smile was unmistakable as you arrived at his chair. When you held up the bottle with a subtle lift of your eyebrow, he nodded in agreement.

He wasn’t entirely sure if you climbed into his lap or if you simply floated there, an ethereal presence that captivated his senses. You were such a gorgeous little thing, soft legs draping over him effortlessly, while your electric fingertips traced delicate patterns along his arms.

“Where’ve I met you before?” You slurred, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt as you settled in his lap.

You were fucked up. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was now. Good - he was, too. His plan had been to leave, get one of the models at his table to come home and roll over for him without much effort, but passing the evening with someone in his same state of mind would spare him from having another dull fucking conversation tonight. Plus, you were so pretty, big black pupils dilated and fixed on him beneath the lazy black fan of your eyelashes.

“You tell me,” he answered, running his finger along the rim of his glass.

Did you know who he was? He goes along with your guesses as to where you’d met before. Miami, London, the Met, whatever you said, as long as you didn’t piece together that you know him from a TV show that aired when you were still in middle school.

Music blasted through the speakers surrounding you, strobe lights flashing and highlighting flecks of glitter on your shoulders. He lifted his hand to run his finger along the thin strap of your dress as you lifted the bottle up between you and raised your eyebrows in question. He nodded, holding up his empty whiskey glass.

“Glastonbury?” You asked as you filled his glass.

“That must be it,” he agreed, knowing he hadn’t been to Glastonbury since 1995, and clinked his glass against your bottle. He watched as you took a long draw from the mouth and could see the grimace you were holding back as you squinted, your throat bobbing as you swallowed. He followed your lead, emptying his glass in three big gulps. Your eyes flitted over momentarily to the group he came with, crowded around the booth to his left, then back to him.

“You alone?” You asked him, glossy lips smirking.

“Just like you.”

You let out a knowing chuckle and leaned in closer to him, tequila and lime and smoke on your breath as it mingled with his own. The way you dragged your lower lip through your teeth had his cock twitching, the combination of the chemicals in his system and you purring in his lap like a kitten destroying any shred of inhibition he had left.

There’s an acknowledgment between people like you and Dieter. It’s one of those things that doesn’t lend itself to description, but he knew it when he saw it - in the mirror, in friends and acquaintances and enemies, in blown-up photographs on the covers of tabloids, suicides and DUIs announced in newsstands. Raw nerves covered in glitter, celebrity or civilian, death drives winning over life drives every time. He saw it in your dilated pupils and the way your thighs were rubbing together, the silk of your dress doing nothing to hide it. You’re like him, too, and most importantly, you know better than to ask why.

His hand cupped your face before he realized he’d done it and he closed the space between you, your lips soft against his the next sensation he was aware of. You tasted good, and he wanted more right away, deepening the kiss and digging his fingers into your thigh forcefully. He ran his tongue along the seam of your mouth, his own lips going numb as he licked into yours. He pulled you up to straddle him and you moved easily, hips lowering onto him immediately and settling, the lace of your panties brushing up against the thin fabric of his pants. His mouth trailed to your ear, worrying your earlobe between his teeth and guiding your hips to roll against his crotch again and again.

“You don’t give a fuck, do you?” He said, his voice low and hoarse in your ear. He knew you had the attention of his group and your own, not to mention anyone else who happened to look over, but it didn’t seem to matter to you. He knew you’d been in trouble lately - the same limelight, coming-of-age growing pains he’d been through himself several years ago - and his own instincts threatened to kick in and shield you from the excess attention.

You laughed with a shake of your head, tossing your hair over your shoulder and, without looking away from him, lifted his hand from your thigh to your lips, dragging your tongue across the length of his index finger and popping it into your mouth.

Oh, you were fun. You were already making him hard, and he knew you could feel it as you grinded into him again and again, letting his finger drop from your mouth when he pressed his lips back to yours. He needed to be careful - the linen lounge pants he’d thrown on to come here would betray nothing if you kept it up much longer.

It’s a noticeable absence when you hum and pull away from the kiss, the urge for more of you rolling over him and causing his fingers to dig into your thighs possessively.

“Do you have anything… funner?” You asked, big, blown out eyes pleading as you lifted the tequila bottle up again. Aha. It just so happened he did - a baggie of coke he’d brought along just in case sat in his pocket, along with two tabs of acid. It didn’t seem like that kind of night, though, at least not yet. He’d stick with the coke.

“I might have something,” he replied, a genuine smirk spreading across his face for the first time that evening. He sat up straight, smacking your ass and biting your jawline at the same time, the yelp it pulled from you quickly transforming into a wild giggle and sending a rush of blood to his cock as he peppered kisses and bites down your neck to your collarbone.

Quickly, he helped you to your feet and guided you through the crowded room, following you across the floor, his index finger linked with your pinky, prying eyes and pointing fingers meaningless to the both of you. You may have been stumbling, but you were confident. Or at least not at all concerned. A camera phone at the bar flashed and Dieter instinctively ducked his head, moving a hand to your hip to rush you forward and out of sight.

Tucking into a hallway at the back of the club, he kicked a door open and hurried you inside a small, dark room. It was clearly an employee restroom, high piles of backstocked paper towels and toilet paper toppling over when he pushed you up against the wall harshly, his hands cupping your face, the cool metal of his rings pressed against your cheek.

He pulled a pink baggie out of his shirt pocket, opened it and tapped a bump of white powder out onto the skin between his thumb and index finger. He held it up to your nose and, without any question about what it was, where he got it or if he’d already tried it, you’d inhaled, one hand holding his steady while the other held your nostril closed.

Fucking finally. Your head lit up immediately with euphoria and relief as the amphetamines rushed through your system and you melted against Dieter as he lifted you to perch you on a stack of cardboard boxes.

You let him move you like a rag doll, smiling as he propped you back and tapped out two more bumps onto your chest and snorted them, running your fingers through his messy curls as he dragged his tongue along your cleavage, licking up what was left.

His lips found yours again, and the pungent taste of the powder on his tongue mingling with his taste drew you in closer. Looping your arm around his neck, your free hand clutched his bicep. The acrid taste turned pleasantly tingly on your tongue, a numbness spreading as it explored his mouth.

“Here, baby,” he urged, breaking the kiss breathlessly, and you hummed in response as he tapped out another bump on the back of his hand. You inhaled it again, then he used his finger to gather the remnants of the powder. Cupping your cheek firmly, your jaw relaxed under his touch as he rubbed the excess powder into your gums. You reacted instantly, closing your eyes and drawing his finger deeper into your mouth, succumbing to the rush of sensation.

He groaned in approval, your lips already open when he kissed you again, drawing him in for more, thighs parting to wrap your legs around him. The flimsy strap of your dress fell off your shoulder, the fabric across your chest following shortly after.

Blissfully content with the relief of the chemicals rushing into your bloodstream for the first time today, you went numb, rolling your head back and watching patterns dance behind your eyelids. You allowed Dieter to touch and move you at his will, his hands skillfully brushing the other strap of your dress off your shoulder, exposing your chest completely. A throaty moan escaped him at the sight, the gentle sway of your breasts moving with the rhythm of the rough push of his hips into yours. He drew you closer, his lips finding purchase on your skin. Roughly latching onto you, he drew your breast into his mouth, his tongue drawing circles around the peak of your nipple before switching to the other side of your chest.

Sparks shot down your spine and your mind went blank for a second, lost in the feeling of him against you, the synapses in your brain firing and lighting up. You snapped back into the moment when you felt him grasp your hand with his own, his fingers intertwined with yours. He guided you down to press your hand into his crotch, grinding the firm length of himself into your hold again and again.

A soft moan escaped your lips, surrendering to the warmth and pressure of his body against yours. You tightened your grip around his neck, allowing yourself to fully yield to his control, your body pliant and responsive to his every move.

You’d fuck him, you figured, as you moved against him. He was good looking - now that you were feeling a little less edgy, you could appreciate it. Corinne would kill you if word got out, but he seemed like someone who knew a thing or two about discretion. He stiffened even more as he firmly thrusted into the cradle of your hand and you cupped your fingers around his length, the soft fabric of his pants allowing you to feel him completely. You walked your fingers up to his waistband, nails dipping under the fabric and pulling at it slightly. You’d go home with him. Whatever. You’d bring Natalie with you and you could leave by morning. He probably wouldn’t even notice a missing gram or two.

You followed the thought as he trailed kisses up your chest and neck, finally settling at your ear. His hand rose up your thigh, thick fingers dragging along the lace fabric at your center. The bundle of nerves there erupted at his touch and your thighs instinctively squeezed around him.

“Let me taste you, baby, please,” He growled just above a whisper into your ear. You arched your back into his arms, moaning and nodding in agreement, the cool porcelain of the sink underneath you causing your skin to goosebump as your dress rode up further. You opened your eyes, peeking at the chestnut brown curls, the color blending into the dark room surrounding you. Your eyelids felt heavy, and you fought to keep them open, wanting to stay present with him. But the warmth of his breath against your skin and the gentle touch of his fingers on your cheeks were lulling you somewhere else. You felt like you were floating, your vision blurred at the edges and you fluttered your eyes shut again, feeling his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties and stall there for a moment.

Your fading in and out like that threatened to spook him away. You couldn’t be too fucked up. He lightly tapped your cheeks a couple of times, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Stay with me, baby," he whispered urgently. "Gotta hear you say it."

“Mmmm,” Dazed, faraway eyes looked up at him, your blown-out pupils mirroring his own. You nodded again, dragging your teeth along your bottom lip. Your pulse raced between your legs, and you felt your hips moving towards him, trying to ride something that wasn’t there yet. “Do it, Dieter, please.”

There we go. He smirked, lifting you from the stack of boxes to push you up against the wall and sinking to his knees. He bunched up the fabric of your dress at your hips, roughly pulling your panties down your legs, the black fabric hanging loosely at one ankle as he lifted your leg to hang over his shoulder.

You shrieked when he slid his tongue through your folds, your knee buckling when he repeated the motion, his strong hands moving up to your hips to support you. His tongue pushed wide against you, him tasting and exploring you as his fingers dug into your hips with bruising force.

He felt fucking amazing. You typically hated when men touched you, especially when you were high, but he felt incredible. You’d give him anything. Despite your rapidly dulling senses, the feeling of his tongue working your clit back and forth was at the front of your mind. He pushed his tongue wide against you again and again, fucking two thick fingers up into you without warning.

You gasped, your mouth opening wide as you root your fingers into his hair to ground yourself. He wanted to wreck you completely, to smear the dark makeup around your eyes and watch that glossy mouth of yours stretch around his cock. His lips locked around your clit, and as the blood rushed to the bundle of nerves there you threw your head back, chest heaving, loud, wretched moans spilling from your throat.

With your senses dulled, he knew it’d take a little more to send you over the edge. A third finger pushed into you with a stretch, starting slow and working up to get in and out of your tight, soaked cunt. You moved your hips to match his rhythm, your pace hiccuping as he began working you faster and faster, working your clit between his teeth with a pinch.

Your moans were frantic, hitching higher and higher as he confidently worked you towards an orgasm, your surroundings blurring and swirling around you.

THUD, THUD, THUD. Just as you neared your release, a loud pounding at the door shattered the moment.

He groaned in frustration, pausing briefly before attempting to resume. You struggled to regain your focus, your chest heaving with heavy breaths, nerves coiled tightly at your core.

The knock was followed by a muffled argument and the clanking of keys from the other side of the door. Reluctantly, Dieter's head emerged from between your thighs.

“Fucking assholes,” Dieter grumbled in frustration as he stood up, moving the straps of your dress back up your shoulders and quickly adjusting himself. You steadied yourself with a hand on his shoulder as you pulled your panties back up, frustration pounding angrily between your legs.

“Find me, alright?” He breathed, smoothing out your dress, his hand lingering on your ass and eyes slowly moving up your body. “I’ll take you home.”

You nodded as the door was thrown open, the bright, white light of a flashlight shining into the small room. You stood up straight, quickly fixing your hair in the mirror and sneakily grabbing the small, plastic baggie Dieter left on the counter, hiding it in your fist behind your back.

“Let’s go. Knock this shit off,” a voice bellowed from behind the light, which darted back and forth between you and Dieter. “We’re not doing this in my fucking club, get the fuck out, let’s go!”

“What the fuck is this?” Dieter asks, moving to stand in front of you and block you from the bright light.

“I’m sorry, man, I tried to stop him,” Another voice followed from outside the room. You squinted and peeked over Dieter’s shoulder, annoyance showing on your face. A large bald man in a suit held the flashlight and to his right was the small, douchey-looking guy you recognized from Dieter’s booth. Natalie’s head popped up behind the both of them, looking relieved to have found you.

“You’re not doing drugs on my floor and fucking little girls in my bathroom. That’s it, Bravo. Get the fuck out of here, let’s go,” the angry man repeated. Dieter raised his hands and murmured an apology to you as he shuffled out, one hand poised defensively in front of his face. He pushed out of the room past Natalie, her brows furrowed at him in confusion as he passed. His counterpart flocked to his side, immediately rushing into what sounded like a flurry of explanations and reassurances. Natalie slid into the room smoothly, wrapping an arm around you to usher you out. You stumbled at her side, annoyed and disoriented.

“I’m TWENTY-TWO, ASSHOLE!” You screamed at the man with the flashlight, attempting to shove him with your balled-up fists. He raised his eyebrows, bald head wrinkling and frown deepening. Natalie pulled you away from him quickly and you could hear her apologize behind you. “Don’t tell’um sorry, Nat, ’m not fucking sorry, I was in the fucking bathroom!” you slurred, your voice disjointedly raising and lowering in pitch.

“C’mon, babe, let’s go,” Natalie urged you.

“Yeah, ’s get the fuck outta here,” you agreed, stumbling as she shepherded you out. She handed you your purse and you quickly shoved your hand inside, dropping the half-empty baggie into the side pocket. One or two flashing lights from the crowd gathered at the bar stole your attention for a moment, but it quickly returned to the big, bald, interrupting gorilla with the flashlight. “This place SUCKS!” you screamed as you began to turn back towards him, leashed by Natalie’s grip around your arm.

“Let’s go,” she repeated firmly. You followed her through the crowded bar, stomping across the floor and ignoring the unending stream of heads turning towards you. The two of you shoved out the heavy metal doors of the club, clicking and flashbulbs immediately erupting around you as the cool evening air breezed across your skin. Your name was shouted from your left and right as Natalie dug in her bag for the valet ticket.

“Having fun tonight?” A photographer asked. You rolled your eyes. “Alright, over here, honey,” the same voice continued. With a resigned sigh, you turned to offer a practiced pose, your mind ticking through your media training despite how fucking annoyed you were. Stumbling a couple of times as you attempted to maintain your balance, you moved through a lazy pose or two. You knew the routine - let them get their shot and maybe they'll back off.

“Partying tonight?” Another voice interjected. Moron.

Natalie finally located the ticket and the valet handed the keys over immediately, your car already parked and waiting curbside. Impulsively, you decided you’d drive, intercepting the keys before Natalie could take them and nearly smacking them out of the attendant’s hand before stumbling towards the vehicle.

“She’s not getting in the driver’s seat. No way,” reasons the voice of a man with a video camera to your left. “There’s no way!”

Another blinding eruption of flashing lights emerged around you. You stared down at your feet as you stumbled forward, trying to see where you were walking through the relentless assault of flashbulbs. Natalie called out your name from behind you. You struggled a couple of times with the handle before throwing the car door open heavily.

“Hey, you can’t drive, honey,” Another voice called out. You rolled your eyes.

You climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut, exhaling loudly as the noise of the chaos surrounding you finally muffled. Flashing lights continued, your windshield now completely blocked by cameras. The volume raised again for a moment, a cacophony of voices and camera clicks, as Natalie scrambled into the passenger seat beside you.

“Are these people serious,” you asked, angling your head in towards Natalie and shielding your eyes from the barrage of flashbulbs pointed at you, frustration mounting with each flash. “How’m I supposta drive when they’re fucking blocking me?”

“Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t.” Natalie said, concern in her voice. “Let me, okay?”

You shook your head adamantly. “’M not going back out there.”

“So climb over,” She suggested.

“Not in this!”

Natalie let out an exasperated sigh, her fingers tapping anxiously on her thighs.

“Hey, since when do you know Dieter Bravo?” She asks, momentarily changing the subject.

“Who? Oh,” you replied, the question registering with you once you answered. The reminder of him sent your attention between your legs and you shifted slightly in your seat. “I dunno. I know’hm from an awards thing.” You offered. It was an unconvincing lie, but Natalie didn’t fight you on it.

“He’s so random,” she laughed. “I can’t believe you hooked up with him. I think my older sister had a poster of him in high school. Right next to River Phoenix.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, everything about this evening now pissing you off. The incessant clicking of the paparazzi's cameras only added fuel to the fire, and you narrowed your eyes in irritation, slamming your hand down on the horn for a solid ten seconds in a futile attempt to disperse them.

“MOVE!” you yelled, only inciting more flashing lights.

“Let me drive, babe,” Natalie tried again.

“Oh, my god, fuck this,” you snapped, frustration finally boiling over. With your hand still shielding your eyes, you shifted the car into drive. “You're my eyes now.”

“What?! No!” She replied, her voice rising in panic.

“Be my eyes. I’m going.” You repeated. Very slowly, you eased your foot off the brake, the car beginning to inch forward. Voices clamored outside the vehicle.

“Oh my god, um, okay. Go slow. Turn left. Slow!” Natalie began to guide you. The crowd cautiously parted around the car, photographers scrambling to avoid being flattened while still unwilling to sacrifice this shot. “Oh my god, this is so stupid. Slow, slow, slow.”

“They’re fuckin’ stupid! What am I supposed to do?”

“No, yeah, okay, just slow, keep going left.” Natalie's voice trembled slightly as she continued to navigate. The relentless barrage of flashing lights illuminated the interior of the car, casting everything in stark, blinding brightness. “Okay, cut it! Cut it and keep going straight.”

You cut the wheel to the right and straighten it out, cautiously peeking through the gaps in your fingers to confirm you'd cleared the throng of photographers.

“Haha!” you exclaimed, your laughter echoing through the tense air as you slammed the gas pedal to the floor once the street ahead is clear. With a screech of tires, you peel off into the night, Natalie's nervous chuckles mingling with your own laughter. “Bye, assholes!”

You rocketed down Highland with reckless abandon. A couple of familiar vehicles creeped up behind you - regular photographers who paid their bills by stalking you. The driver to the left’s hand hung out the window, a digital camera pointed squarely at you. The light was yellow at the intersection in front of you and you smirked, not letting up on the gas and rolling your window down to flip off the camera as you raced through the intersection just as the light turned red.

“Slow down!” Natalie yelled, panicked, her hand clutching the door handle in a white-knuckled grip. “What is your problem?”

“My problem?! These guys are the ones with the problem,” you fired back, your tone frustrated. “I can’t do anything without getting fucking cornered!” Your car veered dangerously across the yellow lines and Natalie yelped. You overcorrected, the vehicle lurching back into its lane just in time to avoid a collision with an oncoming car, its horn blaring in warning. Natalie’s body stiffened further in her seat as you took a wide right turn onto Sunset. You turn on the radio, a Rihanna song picking up midway through.

“Did he give you something?” she shouted, her tone urgent. You furrowed your brow, shooting her a confused look. “Dieter,” she clarified.

“Oh, right!” you exclaimed, mood shifting as you suddenly remembered the baggie tucked in your purse. “Look what I got us!” You reached for your bag on the passenger floorboard, swerving again. Natalie lunged across the seat, her hands fumbling for the wheel to correct your course, while a chorus of horns blared from the vehicles behind you. Finally retrieving your purse, you fished out the baggie from the side pocket and held it up between your fingers for Natalie to inspect. She grabbed it from you quickly, examining it in her lap.

“What is it?” She asked. You shrugged.

“Coke, I think. Shit, hold on,” you floored the gas to race through another newly red light.

“Stop!” Natalie shrieked. “This is so fucking stupid, dude, let me drive!”

“Jesus, Nat, fine,” you groan, slamming on the brakes. You both jolted forward as the car came to a stop in the middle of the road. “You wanna drive so bad, fine.”

You unlocked the car doors, opening yours slightly and reaching down to unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Are you serious?” She scoffed, disbelief etched across her features as she surveyed the chaotic scene unfolding around you. You nodded in affirmation, a defiant smirk playing on your lips. “You’re such a bitch.”

With a surge of stubborn adrenaline, you stormed out onto Sunset Boulevard, Natalie following suit. The gray Honda belonging to one of the persistent photographers tailed you, coming to a halt beside you as the driver scrambled out, camera at the ready.

“LEAVE ME ALONE” you shouted. “I gave you your shot at the club, I’ve been nice to you guys, what more do you want?!”

You considered what it would take to get him to go away. Words weren’t working. Should you kick his car? Throw something? You began to stumble towards him, interrupted by Natalie yelling your name again. You turned around to see Natalie standing in the street, gaze fixed on the intersection ahead. Your car - which you apparently failed to put into park - was rolling into the intersection on its own.

With a frantic surge of panic, you and Natalie sprinted after the runaway vehicle, the strobe of camera flashes behind you incessant. Arms flailing, you both desperately signaled to other drivers to stop, your heels clattering against the pavement as you raced towards the car.

As the car veered left, you were powerless to stop it from crashing into a parked BMW at the corner. Rushing to catch up, you flung yourself into the open driver's door, slamming on the brakes and throwing the gear into reverse. You leaned across the cab to fling the passenger door wide open.

“Come on!” You shouted at Natalie as she climbed back into the car. With a tense exhale, you navigated the car backward, turning wide in the intersection before screeching forward.

Your mind was completely clear with pure adrenaline. You were only a few blocks away from the hotel now, the castle-shaped outline shrouded in trees just ahead on your right. You floored it, a tense silence hanging in the car, both you and Natalie’s eyes locked forward on the road in front of you.

Only slowing down to make a right turn into the hotel driveway, you didn’t bother waiting for the valet. Tossing your keys onto the driver’s seat, you left the door ajar as you stormed through the garage toward your room, ready to put this evening behind you.

#blind item #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo x reader #putting this out into the world and definitely also shitting bricks

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sw-33-ts-stuff · 1 year

Note

SPOILER WARNING!!!! If you haven’t seen the new movie yet.

Can I request a part 2 of MASTERMIND. With reader having to figure out who the new ghostface is to protect Tara and succeeding. Just some fluff and little angst happy ending. Oh and when they go into the room with all the past ghostface stuff nothing of readers is in there cause she covered her tracks. The new ghostface didn’t know she worked with Richie and when their dying she would tell them maybe with no one else hearing what she said idk. Sorry if this makes No since. I just had to ask love your writing it’s just <3

I hope you like it <3

3rd Person POV

They were back...again. And in New York Fucking City of all places. This wasn't like the others you could tell. The way these deaths were displayed, the motive, it's not the same. The killings aren't to develop a new movie this is something deeper. You looked around the room at the shrine of Ghostface's past.

Starting with Billy Loomis all the way down to Richie and Amber. It was almost impressive that someone was able to collect all the evidence without it making the news.

Cop? FBI?

The second thought made you glance at Kirby. Someone with a badge and/or access to one would be the only one able to get evidence from previous cases undetected.

It started with Jason, you knew he was a horror film fanatic he'd discussed his obsessions with Mindy from time to time even critiquing the previous Ghostface killers. You knew he had the potential to be the next serial killer but he hadn't lived long enough to tell the tale.

Nothing here could implicate you though. No phone record, clothing, any physical evidence connecting you to Richie and Amber meaning the killer didn't know who you were either.

You thought back to when Mindy did her usual "Who's the next Ghostface?" Speech making everyone question who they could trust.

"I don't wanna die a virgin!" Ethan, the oh so innocent roommate of Chad spoke up. You felt your eyes narrow as you had the same thought as Mindy. His "innocent" persona feeling too forced and he was new to the group. You glanced to Tara's roommate Quinn as well both of their presence in the lives of the Woodsboro survivors feeling a little too convenient.

"And Anika.." kisses blown to her girlfriend before she frowned. "Never trust the love interest."

You almost laughed aloud at the thought. No you and Tara were still yet to be official but your undying love for her was what started this.

And will finish it.

Your original plan of creating a cult dedicated to ending the life of Samantha Loomis long gone as you found the girl to be useful in keeping Tara safe. Now you just wanted to admit your feelings for the younger Carpenter and hope she felt the same.

It was at a Halloween party that you'd thought you'd finally made some progress she'd been touchy all night and even glared at some of the girls who would try to flirt with you.

But then she'd tried to go up to her room with some random guy and Chad was her knight in shining armor. You shook your head at yourself.

So not important right now.

You were still at a loss as one of your top suspects, Quinn was dead the picture sitting calmly on your phone the same time they had murdered Anika. You knew it wasn't Danny as he'd been nothing but protective to Sam. Mindy was nowhere to be found as she'd gone to the subway with Ethan. Gale was currently in the hospital after just surviving another encounter with Ghostface.

You continued to look around to find Tara and Chad gone. You walked towards the next room to find them kissing. Your skin burned as you looked away clenching your jaw before you heard a phone ring, Sam looking to Kirby in suspicion at whatever she was being told on the other end.

You go to leave when you find the doors are locked running back to warn the others when you find the room empty, Kirby on the ground.

You kneel by her and check her pulse. She coughs.

"It's Detective Bailey." Your head tilts to the side. Quinn's dad who claimed to want to avenge his daughter. That's one suspicion officially confirmed. It was a cop meaning Ghostface has a gun you opened up Kirby's jacket ripping the bullet proof vest from her and putting it on yourself. The former agent looking to you in surprise.

"Nice thinking kid." You nod as she hands you her gun. "Go get that son of a bitch."

You hear Tara's blood curdling scream followed by whimpers. You go towards the noise seeing Chad bleeding with multiple stab wounds not even bothering to look for a pulse as you survey the scene. You follow the noise and find Sam and Tara.

"I'm going to avenge my dead son! Do you know what's it like to lose your firstborn? You're going to pay for what you did! Everyone's going to think Samantha Loomis just did exactly as her father would've wanted and I'm going to complete what my son started."

"Too bad your son was a little bitch who let his girlfriend do all the dirty work." Sam smirked before Detective Bailey smacked her, next to him were Quinn and Ethan donning their costumes. You pulled down the ammunition chamber only finding two bullets in the gun. Cursing softly you slowly crept towards the trio.

If I shoot too soon they'll hurt Tara.

A crash from below caught everyone's attention. Bailey pushed his youngest son.

"Go see what that is." The boy jumped down from the balcony looking around as Quinn went to stab Sam who pushed their father and made him drop his gun.

Perfect.

You shot Quinn just as she raised her arm and Sam pushed Bailey over the railing.

"Y/N!" He'd grabbed Tara and pulled her over the ledge with him. You and Sam each had one of her arms to keep the younger sister from falling. Ethan had wrapped his arms around his dads legs and once he'd released Tara the two fell into a heap on the hard floor as you both got the smaller girl to safety. A gun shot rang through your ears as a sharp sting came from your arm. You groaned realizing the son of a bitch got his gun back and almost shot Tara.

You went to run downstairs her and her sister's hands gripping your forearm to keep you from leaving .

"Wait where are you going?"

"To kill the son of a bitch who shot me." Tara stopped you again. "No!"

Sam went back to the shrine room undetected as Ethan and his father began to taunt you.

"Tara let go." You spoke through clenched teeth.

"No! I don't wanna lose you too." You looked into the smaller girls brown eyes unable to see anything but her kissing Chad.

"You already did." Her grip loosened in confusion as you ran to Bailey.

The older man laughed as he cocked his gun shooting at your chest twice before his gun clicked. His son acting as a shield as you charged at them. A knife sank into your abdomen as you tackled the small boy to the ground a harsh yell next to you as another Ghostface grabbed Bailey and began stabbing him. You pulled the knife out and followed suit with Ethan before leaning in closer to his ear.

"It wasn't your brothers vision dumb ass it was mine." Ethan's eyes widened as he stared at the ceiling. "You know what he did wrong? He hurt Tara, he hurt what's mine." You spoke through gritted teeth as you heard his breath stutter.

You got up looking to find Sam nodding at you after taking off her fathers mask.

In a different time she would've been the perfect Ghostface.

"How did you-" you cut off Sam's question by lifting your shirt to show the vest you'd taken off Kirby.

Tara had caught up to the both of you as she looked to the bodies glancing at her sister and her costume. Her back was turned as a sudden yell rang out Ethan charging towards the Younger Carpenter only to be stopped by Kirby smashing his head with the same TV that killed Stu Macher.

"So we should get the fuck out of here yeah?" Tara and her sister laugh as you all begin to leave. The paramedic beginning to patch everyone up. Your shoulder was being wrapped in a sling when Tara walked up almost in the same situation.

"Guess we're twins, huh?" She laughed softly as you stared. She looked down before glancing at you through her eyelashes. "What did you mean "I already lost you"?"

"We got one more over here!" You both look to see a gurney rolling Chads body to an ambulance near by. You nodded your head towards him.

"Go see your boyfriend." She frowned at you moving reluctantly. Sam next to her as she did so, she had heard some of the conversation between you two.

"Glad you're ok Chad." She smiled placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as he squeezed it. He turned hopeful eyes to Tara who did the same as her sister. Him thinking nothing of it as his sister ran in holding her abdomen.

"GUYS! It's Ethan and he-" she looked around disappointed.

"Are you fucking serious?! I missed everything even the evil villain monologue?" The sister nodded as she looked to her twin. "Oh shit you don't look good are you ok?" They both went into the ambulance.

"So..?" Sam looked to her sister in silence. Tara just stared back.

"So what?" The older sister sighed.

"So where's Y/N?" Mindy laughed at her brother. The ever clueless oaf had no idea that you and Tara had a thing that wasn't a thing but kind of a thing. While Chad and Tara weren't dating it wasn't fun to sit around and watch them act as if they were.

"Probably trying to get over a certain someone by getting under someone else." Sam and Tara both looked to the twin wide eyed.

"What?" She shrugged. Sam shook her head laughing a bit as white hot jealousy flashed through Tara. Was that why you hadn't been around? You were seeing someone?

Chads hand squeezed Tara's shoulder. "You ok?" She told Chad she wanted to move slow, not sure if he was truly over Liv and avoid trauma bonding. She gave him a soft smile nodding as she went to stand up.

"Just need some fresh air." She went out to the bodega near her apartment and found you holding some chips, currently filling a giant cup. She approached slowly unsure of how you'd react.

"Hey." She said softly you turned to her surprised eyes scanning over her to make sure she was ok.

"Hey." You turned back to the counter putting the lid on your cup before grabbing some candy and going to the register.

"How've you been?" You nodded to the smaller girl.

"Good. You?" Inside she was screaming you both hated small talk yet here you were acting as if you were strangers.

"Good." You but the inside of your cheek already regretting your next question,

"And how's Sam? Mindy? Chad?" She nodded as you moved forward placing your items on the counter. The check out behind the counter suddenly very friendly.

"That'll be $5.73." You pulled out six dollars.

"I'm not worried about any change." The curly hair girl behind the counter smiled.

"You're all set then." She handed you the receipt fingers grazing your hand. As you both reached the door she yelled out.

"You forgot something!" Both you and Tara turned confused as she went up to you handing you another piece of paper. "My number."

Pink lips spread into a smile as she looked at you, you felt yourself flush a bit as you thanked the girl. Tara felt her jaw clench as you both left.

"Are you going to call her?" You looked at Tara as she glared down at the sidewalk, amused you chuckled.

"Maybe." She continued to glare at the sidewalk before her face softened when you offered her some candy. She didn't even noticed you'd picked up her favorite, jolly ranchers.

"I guess I'll see you around." You both stopped at the bus stop. She nodded tucking some hair behind her ear. She began her walk back home as you waited for the next bus to come.

Sam called her sister telling her she would be going out with Danny and Chad and Mindy planned on having some time to themselves.

Tara glanced back to Y/N as she hung up the phone. She ran up to the taller girl panting lightly and cursing herself when she realized she left her inhaler.

You looked at Tara unable to stop yourself from smiling as you dig into your pocket and pull out the spare inhaler you keep with you. She took a deep breath before looking at you in question.

"I always keep one on me …just in case. I have one in my pocket and one in my apartment." Big brown eyes stared into yours before grabbing the collar of your shirt and pulling you into a kiss. Your hands automatically finding her waist as hers went around your neck before they slid down and pulled you away from the bench.

Stunned you said nothing until you both passed the bodega again. The cashier from earlier looking with eyes narrowed as Tara dragged you with her.

"Where we going?" The small girl glanced at you smirking.

"My place."

Taglist: @alexkolax

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #scream #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #scream vi #scream v #tara carpenter imagine

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madwomansapologist · 11 months

Note

cardigan but from Richie’s POV !! cause I can totally see him feeling “unlovable” like an old cardigan under someone’s bed w the whole deadbeat divorced dad thing until (reader) comes along and makes him feel wanted again🫠

Taylor Swift Writing Challenge: Cardigan

synopsis: Richie was fine with being left. After all, he wouldn't marry himself either. Richie gets that he's hard to love and easy to leave. Then why didn't you leave him yet?

warnings: none.

note: omg you don't even know how I was waiting for someone to make that request. cardigan is sooo richie coded. i feel like you read my mind.

Richie's silence can be so loud. You need seconds to differenciate the comfortable silence from the pensive one. And right now, while he cooks dinner, all you wish was for his thoughts to be less louder.

With the subtlety of an elephant, this is what happens when you wear high heels on cobblestones, you jumped off the couch and walked into the kitchen. You should've gotten rid of them, but you like the sound they make. Richie saw you walk into the kitchen, and felt your embrace as he braised the sausage.

"Hello there." You murmured against his shoulder. He was so tense.

You insisted on cooking dinner, but he never let you do it. Richie says he's a chef, you reply that he needs to relax, and he rejoinder with a "What kind of boyfriend I would be if I let you cook?"

You think he don't like your cooking, and you will die on this hill.

"Ten minutes and it'll be ready."

After a few minuts of silence, you got away from him. You reached into your pants pocket took out a coin. You quickly turned off the stove, and show him the coin before he complained. "A penny for your thought."

Richie sighed. He wiped his hands on a cloth, took the coin and hesitated before putting it in his pocket. He leaned against the counter, again in stark silence. You took his hand, stroking it. You noticed a small cut, already almost healed. You kissed the spot. "Kiss it better", you murmured to yourself.

But Richie heard you. And with his heart filled with that warm feeling, he opened his mouth and shared with you his fear. "Aren't tired of me?"

"No." You smiled to him. "Not at all."

"But... why?"

"Because you are... you", you smirked. "I know you. People said that when you're young you know nothing but I know you."

"Exactly." Richie grabbed your hand. "You know me. So why aren't tired of me?"

"You give me your weekends. We played hide-and-seek last night and I don't think I've played it in years. You hold me when I'm bleeding. And you always take the last train so you can spend more time with me. And your food..."

"What are you doing?"

"Telling you all the reasons why I love you. Why I'm not tired of you. I can go on and on and on and on... Richie, I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."

"Sometimes I feel like I'm old cardigan under someone's bed."

You got closer to him, caressing his shoulders. "Then you're my favorite cardigan in the whole world." That made him laugh. "Hey, do I look like a clown? I'm dead serious. The best cardigan ever made."

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

THE BEAR: @flowercrowns-goodvibes @notanalienindisguiseblink @vyctorya

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#madwomansapologist #ask box #taylor swift #taylor swift writing challenge #cardigan #folklore #the bear x y/n #the bear x you #the bear x reader #the bear fx #the bear #the bear hulu #richie jerimovich x y/n #richie jerimovich x you #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich

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daydreamgoddess14 · 8 months

Text

Aspirations pt. 6 - The Finale!

Sydcarmy Masterlist

Aspirations previous chapters: CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5

Full Masterlist

Here we go, it's the end 😥 I hope this chapter wraps everything up for you and you enjoy it. I've had an absolute ball writing this - loved every second! Thank you so much for reading, commenting, sending the sweetest messages - you guys are AMAZING! 😘

We switch it over to Carmy's POV and there is also some smut in this here chapter 🔥

I listened to a couple of songs in particular when I wrote this chapter - Hozier Take Me to Church just had me picturing Carmy worshiping Syd for like, the rest of his damn life, and Taylor Swift Dress - in particular the bridge:

There is an indentation in the shape of you

Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo

All of this silence and patience

Pining and anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you

Anyway, enough talking. Fingers crossed I stuck the landing with this 9k (wtf?!) final chapter! 💜

~~~~~~~~

From the moment she stepped into his office and asked what he was doing in Chicago, he knew he was in trouble. She'd painstakingly won over every member of the crew one by one, called him out on his bullshit and helped build The Bear up from literal rubble. She'd stabbed Richie and then become one of his closest friends within the space of 6 months, she'd been a source of support for Nat, and she'd raised up Tina and Marcus in particular. In short, he had no idea how he'd gotten to this point of his life without her in his corner, but he knew now that he couldn't live without her. She was his constant, his north star, his fucking guiding light. He could acknowledge that to himself right away, but it took those final days before opening for him to realize that Syd was also pure love. Real, raw and honest. Not some dreamlike, fictional, glossed over version, but messy and sometimes very fucked up. The last thing he'd wanted to do was destroy it, so he'd taken what he'd thought was the safest path - to hold it at arm's length and protect it. Protect her.

“I thought�� I thought we could get over what you said in the walk-in. I thought I could be the one to show you that you can have the things you talked about. That damn restaurant doesn’t have to run you into the ground - you can have a life as well, you know?” He didn’t say anything, looked at his hands and tried to find the words to apologize.

“The restaurant is my life, Claire. It was never fair for me to expect you to put up with that. I promise I never intended to make you second best, you deserve so much fucking more than that. But I can’t be the one to give it to you. I’ve got too much shit going on and I can’t drag you into it.”

“So you’re finally calling it?” She sighed. He nodded,

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too, Carmen. I don’t know what you think you deserve or what you're looking for… but for what it’s worth I do hope you find it. Don’t end up like Mikey.” He studied his hands, he could make out a faint crescent shape on his palm, in the soft pad under his thumb, from where Syd had gripped his hand with her own last night in the kitchen. Their kitchen. He had a faint bite mark on his shoulder as well, a small bruise. He wondered vaguely if she had similar marks.

“I’m sorry, Claire.”

He felt like a weight had been lifted. Not from breaking things off with Claire, although that was certainly the catalyst, but from the weight of expectation. He’d gone from the restaurant to take Syd home, where they’d shyly said goodbye. He’d then gone home and slept for all of three hours before deep cleaning his apartment. He was on Claire’s doorstep with coffee before 9am and in Natalie’s kitchen by 11am.

“I broke it off with Claire.” He said quietly, taking the bottle of milk and checking the temperature on the back of his hand.

“I know.”

“Did she call you already?” Satisfied with the temperature, he leaned Mikey back and put the silicone teat to his mouth.

“No honey, I just know. Sit him up a little more, it might take him a minute to settle - breastfed babies don’t always take to bottles, so sometimes he needs a little bit of encouragement. That’s it, perfect.” She guided his elbow into a more comfortable position and watched with pride as Mikey fed.

“Aren’t you going to ask why?”

“No. I want you to want to tell me.” She put her feet up next to his on the coffee table. “Y’know, it’s not the best time to learn shit - immediately after having a baby. Hormones, lack of sleep, you’re bleeding like a fucking murder victim… but they just kick you right out of that hospital and say ‘see ya later’ and you’re expected to know how to breastfeed them, how to burp them, change them, understand their every need… it’s fucked up. And no one mothers the mother, y’know?”

“You have a Pete.”

“I do have a Pete, and he is incredible. Gets right in there with the shit and the vomit.” She laughed, “It’s not Mikey’s job to teach me those things. It’s not his responsibility to be a ‘good’ baby, whatever the fuck that means. His job is just ‘baby’.”

“Where’re you going with this, Nat?”

“You don’t call me Sugar anymore.” She stated.

“No. I try not to.”

“Why?”

“I guess I don’t want you to feel put down. It’s not a nice nickname, it didn’t come from a nice place.”

“No. It was a way of belittling me. It was another way for mom to make me feel shitty about myself. And you recognizing that, Carmy? Tells me you’re on the right path. Sit him up and put your hand under his chin, now rub his back.” He did as he was told, waiting for her to continue. “I… I’ve realized a lot in the last few months. Pretty much since mom didn’t show up to Family Night?”

“Oh yeah?” Mikey let out a loud burp, making them both smile.

“I’m not responsible for her, I never was. We didn’t fail her as kids, she failed us as a mother, Carmen. She was emotionally manipulative, she didn’t always care for us properly and now as adults, we are fucked up because of her.” Carmy turned to look at Nat, expecting tears, but she looked at peace. “I have had to work really hard to unlearn some of the stuff I thought was right but really isn’t.” She turned her full body to address him properly, “Claire told me what you said when you were in the walk-in? I didn’t get it word for word, but something about not needing to give or receive amusement or enjoyment?” Mikey balled his little fists as he finished the bottle, Carmy sat him back up for another burp under Nat’s watchful eye. She nodded as he put his hand under the baby’s chin to help him.

“Yeah, I said some pretty dark shit.”

“It’s not true. You do need to receive those things - that’s what makes a life, Carmy. And just because you feel like you didn’t deserve to get those things from Claire, or want to give them to her, doesn’t mean you don’t already provide them unintentionally. You do it for everyone who works for us, our friends. For Richie, for Syd, for Mikey… I think you need to think about the difference between doing something intentionally and unintentionally. They’re not a party piece or a grand gesture. They’re supposed to be as natural as breathing. So when you buy Richie a pack of smokes cos you know he’s about to run out, when you give Tina a random night off just cos she looks a bit tired?”

“That’s just… it’s -”

“It’s love, Carmy. It’s love. And if you found it hard with Claire, if it didn’t come easily, then it’s not because you’re a disgustingly horrible human being! It’s simply because you don’t love her. You can’t force that feeling. It’ll destroy you.” He felt her eyes on him, watching him as he put the baby on his legs so he could sit up and face them both. “I love you, Carmy. You have got to stop being your own worst enemy and actually let us love you.” Mikey gurgled and held up a little fist, “or this kid is gonna kick your ass.” She teased, Mikey giggled.

“You’re right.”

“I know I am. You gonna stay for lunch?” She asked, getting up and clearing their coffee cups.

“Yeah. Yo, Nat?” She turned back to look at him, “I love you too.”

On Monday, with Nat’s words still ringing in his ear, Carmy made his way through the front of the restaurant and locked the door behind him. He could see through the window to the kitchen immediately, Syd was at one of the stations with her back to the window, swaying on the spot and… singing?

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy - no, no Chef, that’s Auntie Syd’s knife and your mama would fucking kill me if you touch it. I’ll teach you when you’re a little older - when skies are gray. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take - please don’t take the broccoli, you are just like your Uncle Carmy, do you know that? - Please don’t take my sunshine away.” She turned and he could see that she had Mikey in a baby carrier strapped to her chest and facing outwards, “You’re too cute. Oh! Happy smile! You like being called a cutie, huh? Well, it won’t last forever so take it while you can buddy. Although, Jesus kid, if you keep those baby blues then we’re all doomed. Trust me, I was totally fucking gone the day I stepped into this place.” He watched her wipe down where she’d been chopping vegetables and put the knife away. She moved out of sight but came back with a small cup of flour which she sprinkled onto the work surface, “there you go baby Bear, shall we draw in the flour? Shall we make a chef outta you when you're older? Just like Uncle Carmy and Uncle Mikey. That’s right! You like Uncle Carmy, huh? Me too, Chef, high five!” The baby babbled and waved his hands wildly in the flour, covering them both in fine powder, “I didn’t know Uncle Mikey, but I promise mama and Uncle Carmy will tell you all about him. Hey, Chef, we don’t put our hands in our mouth when we’re working, ok? It’s gross. For other people, I mean.” She pulled a towel from her apron and wiped his hands and mouth. Her voice dropped a little and she spoke so quietly he couldn’t hear her for a few minutes, but he stayed near the door, watching her brush flour out of Mikey’s curls and clearing up their mess. “... and when you’re 16 you can come and work here with me and Uncle Carmy and we’ll teach you everything. You’ll get so good when he teaches you. And then when you’re bigger you can go with Marcus to wherever Luca is and learn pastry.” He cried out a little, “I know, I know. I feel the same about pastry, Chef, but you gotta learn the whole thing if you’re gonna be as good as Uncle Carm, right? Shall we get you one of those bullshit fuckin’ stars? Yeah? Baby Berzatto, the youngest Michelin star holder in the whole fuckin’ world?” She twirled on the spot as he giggled. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he watched her moving around the kitchen, getting ingredients out and putting them in the correct sections, checking off the list on what needed to be done and when. So busy, and yet taking time with his nephew with such care and love. He was blown away initially, but instantly remembered what he’d said to her under the table at Family night,

“You love taking care of people.” He pushed through the swing door and she looked up with a smile,

“Hey Mikey, look! Uncle Carm’s here.” She said brightly, ignoring his statement. Mikey kicked his legs in free air from his carrier and waved his chubby arms around. “Is it me or does he, like, age so much so quickly?”

“He rolled over yesterday,” Carmy told her with a smile,

“Fuck off, no way?!”

“For real. And uhh, I think I just unlocked a new favorite kitchen memory.” She looked up sharply, a shy smile breaking out across her face.

“Hmm. Well at least this one is family friendly.” She retorted.

“Ahh yeah. Think I’ll keep the other one quiet. Where’s Nat?”

“Just running a couple of errands. I said I’d watch Mikey so she could get them done quicker. I was here early.”

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Something like that.”

“Heard. Can we talk later?”

“Sure. We’ll find some time.”

“Ok, good. Can I take him, is that ok?”

“God, please do, he’s heavy!” She put a hand on Mikey’s belly and unclipped one of the straps so that Carmy could lift him up and out of the carrier, then she unclipped the whole thing and went to hang it up in the office.

“So you’re gonna coach him to a star, huh?”

“How much did you hear?” She asked warily. He waved a hand, brushing off her embarrassment,

“Just the star.”

“Good. I’m taking advantage of being able to talk shit about you while he doesn’t understand.” She teased. He didn’t call her out on the lie. Nat came back and the others started to arrive. Mikey was happily passed around various sections all morning while Nat worked. Carmy took him through to the office just as she was packing her bag,

“Ready to take him back?”

“For sure, I’ve missed him! Hi sweetheart - have you had fun with your kitchen family out there?!” She cooed. “You ok, how’re you feeling today?” She asked Carmy.

“Yeah, I’m good. Been thinking about everything you said yesterday. I’m gonna just… soak this in a little, I guess?” He gestured out to the kitchen where there was happy chatter. Tina was telling a dirty joke, and as the punchline landed, he heard Syd and Richie’s roars of laughter.

“I think that’s a very good idea. Be with the ones you love, Carm and for fucksake let us love you back.”

“Yes, Chef.” He smiled.

“It’s not a cure to being a better person, but it’s a start.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m… I’m really… it’s good to get back to this, right?” He pointed between them both,

“Getting along? Yeah, Carm. It’s good.” She put the baby into the carseat and stood to hug him tightly. “I love you.” She whispered.

“It’s fucking freezing out here.” Syd complained, he could see her pulling her jacket tighter around her, trying to shrink into it further. Underneath, she’d pulled on his sweater - yet again - and Richie’s gloves which were miles too big for her hands.

“Next time, I’ll find somewhere warm for us to talk?” He teased,

“That’d be ideal, thanks. So what’s up?”

“Just thought we should… y’know, check in?”

“After Saturday night?”

“Yeah. You ok?”

“Well, it’s a little weird. And totally fucked up. But I don’t want to go back to barely speaking to you. Like, I’ll put up with this insane awkwardness just so I don’t have to avoid you.”

“I hated when you avoided me.”

“Me too.” She said, studying the broken glass shards mingling with the concrete on the ground.

“I broke up with Claire.” She didn’t look up, but he saw her eyes widen a little.

“Oh. How’d it go?”

“About as well as you’d expect.”

“Yeah.” She breathed, puffs of air visible. They fell silent again.

“And I had a really good talk with Nat. About, like, fuckin’ parental trauma and all that shit and how it effects us as we get older? It’s fucked up.”

“It is. I’ve talked to her about it before as well.” He looked up, surprised, “You weren’t talking to her. Not really. Or not listening, at least. She just wanted to feel heard.” He nodded,

“I just… I want you to know that I want to be a better person. I know I’ve said it a million fucking times, I was always trying to do it for someone else though? I thought I should be doing it for you or Nat, but I should be doing it for myself.”

“You can’t be better for us if you’re not doing it for yourself. My dad’s sister always said you can’t pour from an empty cup.” She mused.

“How do you do it?” He asked, curiously.

“I listen to my heart. Figure out what it needs. I watch movies with my dad, I laugh with my friends in there,” she pointed into the restaurant, “I cook for them. I cook for you or Nat or my dad. I hang out with Mikey. I watch you cook. I let my family look after me and love me when I need it. Like you said, I love taking care of people, but it’s nice to have it returned.”

“You’re too fuckin’ smart for this place.”

“Fuck off,” she pushed his shoulder,

"You watch me cook?"

"Yeah, I do. It's… therapeutic. Oh, and if you think that just because you broke up with Claire I’m gonna jump -”

“I would never expect that. Never. Let’s just… get back to where we were and then see what happens?” He suggested, taking her hand. She nodded,

“Great idea, Chef.” He kissed her palm and listened to Tina singing from the kitchen.

Carmy could tell Richie was about to hit the roof. He bounced on his heels and fidgeted for the last hour of service but everytime someone asked, he’d give them the brush off.

“Chef, could you tell Richie to take a step back please?” Syd sighed, rolling her eyes at Richie who was standing so closely behind her she could hardly use her knife. Carmy laughed,

“C’mon cousin, back it up. Whatever it is, why don’t you just tell us?”

“Can’t, we need to wait til we’re closed.”

“Well then get the fuck outta our kitchen and encourage people to finish up?” Carmy smiled at Syd’s use of our kitchen.

“Fine, fine but you guys wait. You just fuckin’ wait.”

“Can I have another 3 duck and 2 sirloin please?”

“Yes, Chef.” The crew chimed back to him. Tina brought the plum sauce over for him to try,

“Needs something, Syd, check this?” He handed her a spoon,

“Half a teaspoon of the winter spice mix.”

“Exactly. Thank you. Tina, you ok with that, Chef?”

“Sure thing Jeff.”

“Let it incorporate for another five minutes, we’ve got time.”

“Make it eight minutes, Chef? My dauphinoise are fucked.” Syd asked, shooting her potatoes a look of disdain.

“Heard Chef. Eight minutes, Chefs.” He looked over at Syd, “Yo, you good?”

“Yeah, too much garlic.”

“No such thing!” At least three people replied, including Carmy.

“I’ll save it for you then, Chef.” She smiled at him over the pass. Richie bounced back and forth with plates and information until he was finally able to lock the front door. He burst back into the kitchen as Syd and Carmy were sharing the extra garlicky dauphinoise.

“Here we go.” Carmy murmured, receiving an elbow to the ribs.

“What you got for us Richie?” She asked, pointedly ignoring Carmy.

“Would you like to hear a review?”

“From?”

“A Mrs Beata Jerimovich, my wonderful grandmother -” Carmy threw a towel at his head,

“Fuckin’ dipshit.”

“Kidding, kidding. It’s only the motherfuckin’ Food and Beverage Magazine!” There were whoops and cheers all round, but next to him, he felt Syd tremble. He discreetly brushed her little finger with his own and heard her sigh softly. “Ahem!” Richie cleared his throat, “The Bear, Chicago…” he held them in suspense, Marcus beat a drumroll on the counter while Tina bellowed at Richie,

“Richie, fuckin’ tell us, pendejo!”

“Five. Fuckin’. Stars. Chefs!” They were euphoric. Manny and Angel banged pots together, Tina wrapped her arms around Syd and Richie hugged Carmy. As soon as he saw Tina let go of her, he first reached out for the shorter woman who patted his cheek, and then for Syd. He counted down from 10 in his head so as not to hold onto her for too long. He made every second count. His senses clambered to be reminded of the softness of her skin, the fullness of her lips, how perfectly her body fit against his. He felt rather than heard the faintest moan drag from her body as his lips grazed her earlobe, and then he reluctantly let her go. “If you’ll allow me to read some of it to you, Chefs?” Carmy leaned back on the counter and felt Syd do the same next to him, innocently close to those around them but the smallest amount closer than she had been standing before. He let his arm rest against hers and let their knees knock gently together as Richie spoke. “I had the wonderful experience of dining at The Bear around a month ago, during the first week of their festive menu. It was a Saturday night and they had been fully booked for months… Hey, wasn’t that the weekend of bad dates? Fish guy is still salty that he can’t get a date around here anymore.” Carmy locked eyes with Syd, she bit her lip to hide her small smile.

“Good, I’m sure he’s working on a wonderful relationship with his right hand.” She pointed out to sniggers.

“Hey, I object to that.”

“Gross Richie, carry on please?”

“Ok, ok. I tried the spiced pumpkin soup with plaice, the scallop ceviche, the duck in plum sauce and blah blah blah, those are the new dishes, looks like they tried everything though, man. Ok, here we go, here we go - the food was nothing short of miraculous. Every element and ingredient held its own, the service was personal and impeccable, the atmosphere was joyous.” He paused for long enough for the squeals of delight to die down, struggling to be heard, “Exec Chef, Carmen Berzatto - formerly of Noma and The French Laundry - and his partner, CDC Sydney Adamu, have created close to perfection. Whatever their secret is, may they hold onto it. I am already booked back for another visit, my only disappointment is that I have to wait 6 months for it! If they aren’t already looking at this spectacular place for recognition in March, the Michelin guide needs to get it on their list very quickly. A star certainly cannot be too far out of reach.” Richie’s voice quivered with emotion, “It goes on and on… that’s us, man. This is talkin’ about us.” He said, holding the magazine aloft. “I fuckin’ love you guys.” Syd pushed herself off the counter and into his arms. He leaned down to rest his forehead against hers, “you did that, Chef. You fuckin’ did that.” He said to her, “fuckin’ love you Syd.” There was another mass movement of people clinging to each other. Carmy noticed Syd slip into the walk-in once Richie had let her go. He got caught up with Ebra and Marcus before he could get there,

“You good, Chef?” She was leaning against the back wall with her head in her hands, she nodded without moving them, “in front.” He whispered once he was standing directly in front of her, not wanting to startle her. She threw her arms around his neck, he could feel her tears in the neckline of his jacket and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“Thank you.” She said, her warm breath against his collar. He laughed,

“No, this is all you, baby. All you.” She pulled away from him, allowing him space which he used to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “C’mon, Tina’s looking for you.” He told her, knowing there were too many eyes outside for them to be alone. She went for the door handle but it was pulled from her reach and Richie joined them,

“I’m only in here so that when you both leave, it doesn’t look like you’ve been makin’ out in here, ok?”

“Richie, I came in here so I didn’t cry in front of everyone.” Syd told him, giving him a gentle shove.

“Seriously? Fuck me, I wish I’d been right first time. Syd, honey, I bawled my eyes out - they’re all cryin’ out there. No one cares!”

“Fuck, I’m not tellin’ em when we get Syd’s star. That’s on you, cuz.” Carmy pointed to Richie.

“Can we stop talking about stars? And stop calling it mine? I’m gonna hurl.”

“No, no hurling, we’re goin’ out. Tina wants shots and karaoke.”

“Oh fuck no. No shots.” Syd pushed between them to get out of the walk-in.

“It’s a yes to karaoke though, right?” Richie called out, following her. Clean down had never been so fast or willingly taken on, Manny turned up the radio and the atmosphere was electric. Anyone crossing the room was hindered by hugs along the way and no one seemed to want to let go of each other. Carmy looked out at the crew and for what felt like the first time in forever, didn’t mask his smile or hide his emotions. The door to the office was partially closed and he couldn’t see Syd so he knocked softly. He heard his sister’s voice via Facetime.

“I swear to god Syd, this is so exciting! Michelin are gonna come knocking. I can tell. They might have already been!”

“I hope they didn’t come before November, it’s gonna be that plum sauce that clinches it.” She smiled at Carmy as he came in and joined her on the screen,

“Carmy! I’m so proud, I wish I could be there to celebrate with you all.”

“It’s just a review, Nat.”

“But it’s an incredible review, and that magazine is, like, insane! It’s a precursor to more, trust me.” He stood close to Syd, leaning down over her shoulder so they could both fit into the video call, his cheek almost pressed against hers. "This right here,” she held up Mikey, “100% of The Bear right in this call! Ok, you guys go have fun. I am so ridiculously proud of you both and I love you both so much.”

“Love you sis, see you later.” Syd smiled, Nat’s eyebrows raised a little as Carmy turned to look at her.

“Bye guys.” She hung up the call with a smile.

“Sorry, I just thought she’d want to know and I knew they’d never let you escape. I’m amazed Tina has let you go.”

“Yeah, me too. She’s stronger than she looks.”

“Right?! It’s crazy! Are we done out there?” She stood from the desk,

“Yeah, we’re heading out now.”

“Ok, I’m on my way then.” She cocked her head towards the door, “C’mon. I suspect the first round is gonna be on us.”

“Did you just call Nat, sis?”

“Yeah,” she shook her head, “never underestimate the strength of female friendships, Carm.” She told him sagely, leaving him alone in the office.

The bar was hot and crowded, standard for a Saturday night. The karaoke was predictably awful, and Richie was wandering between the three booths they'd managed to grab trying to get people to sign up and sing. Carmy was grateful for the spare jeans and t-shirt he kept in his locker, and it turned out nearly everyone else kept some kind of 'to go' bag either at work or with them, ready for those magical evenings where they finished early, had a date after work or got 5 star reviews in one of the biggest hospitality industry magazines in the world. He was pinned into his booth by Ebra on one side and Neil on the other, both talking over the table to each other and leaving him stuck. Tina was talking Marcus into a duet and it looked like Gary, Manny and Angel were playing some obscure drinking game. Richie had an arm slung over Syd’s shoulder and pointed to the stage with his beer. The combination of humor and terror on her face as she tried to decline his offer of a song was currently making his night. He watched her pinch Richie's stomach and move out of his grip, laughing at him as she hopped into the seat next to Neil to get away.

"Whatcha singin', CDC Sydney?" Fak asked.

"I'm not Fak, but Rich is desperate for a partner on Cruel Summer if you think you can handle it?"

"I can do that!" He exclaimed, "Syd, I can nail that bridge, I fuckin' hand to God… I'm gonna do it!" She moved to let him out and raised her beer to Richie in support of his new karaoke partner. He was about to take advantage of Syd sitting next to him when Ebra pulled him into a far-fetched story he'd probably heard a million times before. He stuck around long enough to listen to Tina and Marcus and Richie and Fak before leaving enough cash for another round and saying his goodbyes. He sat in the car for 10 minutes, phone in his hand, weighing up the pros and cons of texting Syd. He decided against it and put the car into gear, before a tap at the passenger side window stopped him.

"You ok? I thought you left ages ago?" Syd asked with concern.

"Uhh yeah, I was uhh… y’know what, jump in." She did and immediately put her hands to the air vents already pushing warm air through the car.

"So, you were what?"

"Trying to decide whether to send you a message and see if you want to cook tomorrow."

"I'd love to," she nodded, "at the restaurant?"

"Or my place? You could always…"

"Take the couch?"

"Yeah. Or I could." She glanced down at her phone, seemingly weighing up her own pros and cons.

"OK, let's go." He made his way through the dark streets, finding a space a few meters from the main door of his building. He led the way up and unlocked the door, letting her in first so he could lock up behind her.

"You sure you wanna stay?"

"I'm sure. Yo, it looks great in here, Carm?"

"Thanks. I thought I should start making it feel a bit more like home, y'know? Cleared up, no more denim in the oven,"

"For real?" She asked, opening the door to check, "Fuck me, Carmy that's… that's good." He felt the blush bloom in his cheeks. Since he'd decided to deep clean the place over a month ago, the night before he ended things with Claire, he'd slowly been emptying boxes, hanging pictures and sorting through his cookbooks. "Dude, is that a fucking plant?" She asked, looking to the kitchen window.

"It's been alive for a whole month." Not just alive, it had been half dead when he'd brought it, so he'd actually brought it back from the brink.

"A better man, huh?'

"Trying." He offered with a shy shrug. "Beer?"

"Please. Netflix?" She asked, loading up the cooking shows,

"Yeah, there's one I haven't seen yet, Nadiya?"

"Oh, she's so great! You'll love it." She put the first episode on and clinked bottles with him as he sat next to her. "I need to watch Salt Fat Acid Heat." She muttered, he watched her add the note to her phone before crossing her legs and focusing on the screen. It didn't take long before he was reaching out for his sketchpad and looking around for a pen. She pulled one from the knot of her bun and handed it over without looking.

"Rhubarb glaze." He stated. She moved to kneel next to him so she could look at his drawing. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder to keep herself from falling forwards.

"In the spring? Change up the duck dish and serve it with something super fresh?"

"Like a slaw." He suggested, she nodded slowly,

"Like a slaw." She didn't look away from the sketch, "Fuck. You really are so fucking good at this Carm." She said, barely above a whisper.

"You make me better at it." He countered. She absentmindedly rubbed the cotton of his t-shirt between her thumb and index finger. He hesitated before reaching out to cup her cheek and turn her face towards his. She leaned into his palm. He watched her eyes close, a trembling breath on her lips as he leaned in to kiss her briefly. Her hand on his shoulder gave her some leverage to turn and straddle his lap. She stayed further back though, not bringing their bodies flush. She sat back on his knees,

"I don't want to do this if -"

"You're not ready?" He finished.

"Me? I meant you. You've been doing so much better this last month. I don't want to fuck that up for you?"

"You couldn't."

"So you… we could…?"

"We could just take things easy and see what happens? Have some,"

"Fun? We could both stand to have some fun."

"Exactly. No pressure." His hands rested lightly on the top of her thighs.

"No pressure." She repeated, sliding deeper into his lap until their chests were pressed together. He waited for her nod of agreement before kissing her again. She hummed with approval, her head tilting to slot against him perfectly. His tongue swept across her lower lip, demanding access which she willingly gave. His hands moved to squeeze her hips, and she let out a needy whimper he knew he’d spend the rest of the night trying to get from her again. He bit her lip lightly as she ground down against him. “Bed this time.” She mumbled against his neck, “please Carmy, now.” He could feel the reluctance radiate off her as she considered letting go of him long enough to stand so they could move. He stood quickly with her in his arms, making her squeal in surprise. They made it the handful of steps to his bedroom where he sat her on the edge of the bed and knelt between her knees. She was bathed in the streetlight from the window, but it wasn’t enough so he clicked on a small faint lamp at the bedside. He tugged the hem of her top up over her head and she lay back to unbutton her jeans and lift her hips to slide them off, he brushed her hands away and pulled the tight denim down her legs. He rose to climb over her on the bed and she moved further back into the center, reaching for his t-shirt. He unclipped her bra and pulled it off before covering her body with his own pressing kisses along her collarbone. He could feel her heart racing against his chest as he chased each breathy moan that fell from her lips. He kissed a hot path down her body, cataloging every noise she made. He took his time, savoring the way she responded to his touch,

“You’re so beautiful,” he marveled, grateful at last to have her where he could actually see her. He paused with his chin on her stomach to look up at her. She’d covered her face with one hand, suddenly bashful. He reached out to link their fingers, gently encouraging her to look at him, “this ok?” He felt her body shudder as her breath hitched, she nodded. “Need to hear you say it, baby.”

“Fuck you,” she huffed out a tiny laugh, “please, I want this. I want you.”

“I need to taste you, Syd, please?” He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear and slid them down her thighs. He nudged her knees further apart and looked back up at her, holding eye contact as he swept his tongue into her folds and circled her clit. Her back arched off the bed and he used his free hand to hold her still. It was akin to worship, every touch designed to bring her closer to the edge. He’d spent years learning the art of consistency and this was no different, he filed away every sigh, every grip of the sheets and every moan of his name. She practically wailed his name as she came, and he watched her come down, boneless from her first orgasm. He let her think he was done before he went back for more. By the time she was pulling him back up the bed to her, the need to have his skin against hers was sinful.

“Jesus fuck, Carmy,” she panted, reaching out to kiss him. He was painfully hard and he knew she could feel him against her. She tried to undo his jeans with shaking hands, giving up with a frustrated groan. He took over and pushed the denim off, giving her the opportunity to push him onto his back. “Condom?” She whispered, still breathless. She reached past him to the drawers by his bedside to grab one as he bit the underside of her breast. He took the condom from her and ripped it open, rolled her onto her back once more and pushed into her in long, slow strokes, his whole body weighted against hers. The closeness was both intense and intimate, and when he kissed her it felt so much like a promise it was almost overwhelming. He held her tightly, pressing her into the mattress as he fucked into her deliriously slowly, lewd noises filling the air. Her legs wrapped around him, holding him against her. He felt her walls flutter around him, she sighed his name as she came again,

“F-fuck, Syd,” he rasped, shuddering against her as he came. He moved just far enough off her so that he didn’t crush her as his arms gave out, his chest heaving.

“Oof,” she huffed as his weight pinned her to the bed. She ran her fingers through his hair and down his back as far as she could reach before gliding back up again.

“Fuck, that was… wow.” His breath tickled her neck as he spoke,

“Yeah.”

“Should move.”

“Yeah, no, I can’t do that.” He mumbled an apology and moved off her completely, tying off the condom and throwing it to the bathroom. He pulled her to him as he got back into bed, asleep almost instantly.

He woke alone to the light streaming in from the windows, noting that their discarded clothes had been picked up and a damp towel hanging over the bathroom door. He pulled on boxers and a clean t-shirt and went through to find their beer bottles disposed of and the TV off. He vaguely recalled waking briefly in the night to the quiet sounds of a cooking show, but he’d been so warm and relaxed that he didn’t think to move and turn it off. Not that he’d have been able to with Syd buried into his side. He followed the sounds in the kitchen where she had her back to him, looking after whatever she was cooking.

“Hey, mornin’” He said, voice still heavy with sleep. She turned with a shy smile, wearing his t-shirt from the previous night and little else.

“Hi, did I wake you?”

“No, no way. You making breakfast?”

“Thought I’d bring it to you in bed, but -”

“I can go back,” he joked. She turned back to the pan and cracked four eggs into it. He moved to stand behind her, hands on her hips and his head in the crook of her neck. “Shakshuka?”

“Yeah. Imagine my surprise when I opened your fridge to find it fully stocked.” She laughed.

“Told ya, I’m trying.”

“I legit spent twenty minutes trying to decide what to make you.” She turned down the heat on the pan and twisted in his arms. “Did you sleep ok?”

“Yeah, I think I might have figured out the secret.”

“To sleep?” He nodded, kissing along her jawline.

“You.”

“Pfft, shut the fuck up.” He pulled them backwards so he could sit at one of the dining chairs, bringing her down into his lap with her legs either side of his. “Hmm don’t get any ideas, I don’t think this chair will survive.” It creaked under them as if in response as she squirmed in his lap.

“How long on breakfast?” He asked pulling the t-shirt over her head,

“Long enough.” She confirmed, reaching out to turn the stovetop off completely.

“Baby, you look all flushed, you good?” He heard Tina ask Syd as she finished off the canapes.

“Yeah T, just warm.”

“You look beautiful, don’t get anything down your dress!” She warned, Syd had tugged an apron over her dress but had left it untied. As she moved along the counter piping blinis with sour cream, the thigh split opened further. He turned away as Tina looked at him with a curious eye,

“I’m gonna unlock, Chef?” He asked,

“Ok, sure. I think we’re good.” She turned to the servers with a nod and took the apron off, throwing the piping bag into the sink.

“Let’s party!” Tina beamed, leaving Syd to turn off the lights and join her in the restaurant.

Syd’s dad took another canape as the tray passed by them, Carmy shook his head as the server offered the tray to him as well.

“These are incredible.” Her dad beamed,

“Aren’t they? She was working on them until about a minute before we opened the doors.”

“Sounds like Sydney.” He chuckled, “I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet you on Family night. It was a very special night.”

“Yes Sir, it was. I had some things to take care of in the kitchen though, so I didn’t spend any time out here. I'm sorry I missed you, it's good to meet you at last.”

“I guess that’s the trouble when you’re the one in charge, you don’t get to enjoy the spoils.”

“Fortunately I’ve got everything I need back there.” Carmy replied with a smile. They both watched Syd in a beautiful one-shoulder copper coloured dress as she crossed the room to speak to Tina’s family. She studiously avoided eye contact with either of them and instead got swept up with talking to Tina’s elderly mother. She dropped down onto her haunches to bring herself below eye level to the woman, and held her hands. He took in her taut calf muscles in her heels and the curve of her thigh as the dress pulled tightly. He was flooded with the memory of taking it off her earlier in the evening as she was trying to get ready, her hands swatting him away before pulling him back in. The reason they were late and the reason she was still in the kitchen as they opened.

“She’s really something. I wish her mama could have seen her.”

“She is. You must be very proud.”

“I am. I hope you’re good to her?”

“I’m sorry?”

“She tells me she’s staying with friends two, three - sometimes even four nights a week. You and I both know that her closest friends are in this room right now, and I don’t think she’s singing lullabies to your nephew four nights a week.” He chuckled as the blush crept across Carmy’s face. “I may be an old man, but I’m not blind.” He put a hand on Carmy’s arm, “thank you for believing in her.”

Her laugh sounded around the room as she pushed back up to standing and turned to talk to Pete who’d lightly tapped her arm. She nodded at whatever he’d said and made her way back past them towards the kitchen. Her dad managed to catch her hand just before she stepped out of reach,

“Honey, Carmen and I were just talking about everything you’ve both achieved here. It’s tremendous.”

“Thanks Dad, I’ve just got to see Richie about something. Can I come back to you in a few minutes?”

“Take your time sweetheart. I’ll be right here.” He smiled, Marcus coming over to talk. Carmy managed to catch her eye briefly with a small smile. She made her way to Richie who was holding court near the center of the room. Christmas songs filled the air and he was once again forced to admit that Nat had been right - a less formal Christmas party for family and friends had been the right way to go. She took Richie’s arm, but he grabbed her hand instead and spun her around, twirling her under his arm and pulling her into some empty space to dance. She tried to pull away, laughing, but let him spin her a couple of times and dip her before she could escape. With Syd’s dad in deep discussion with Marcus, Carmy went through to the kitchen to check what was left in the walk-in. The heavy door swung partially closed behind him and he heard the tap of Syd’s heels as she came through the swing doors not far behind him. He went to call out to her, but Nat’s voice spoke up.

“You can’t escape out here, Syd!” “I just need a minute, my feet are killing me. C’mon, gimme a break.” He could almost hear rather than see Nat roll her eyes.

“Fine, you can hold Mikey while I go to the bathroom before I feed him." Nat rushed past the walk-in to the staff bathroom.

“What’s the time baby Bear? How long til I can be in Uncle Carm’s bed again, huh?” She muttered, bouncing the increasingly hungry baby. “Are you ready for bed too? Party animal.”

“I thought about a sitter but then I figured, it’s family night?” Nat said, coming back in and taking Mikey. “Oh, he should be here for sure.”

“You ok?” He heard Nat ask, softly. "You've barely stopped all night?" He could hear her settle Mikey and the baby fell silent.

“Yeah. If I tell you something can you promise not to lose your shit?”

“I can try?”

“So Carmy and I have been… hanging out. And it’s good, and I don’t want to push him too fast too soon on anything,”

“Wait, hanging out somewhere other than here?”

“Yeah. Like, his apartment… specifically.” Syd wrung her hand together, presumably waiting for Nat to catch up.

“Ok, so what’s new about that? Oh. Oh! Fuck! You guys are hanging out hanging out?”

“There we go. Yep, that’s what’s been happening.”

“Since when?!”

“About a month ago? Not long. Long enough?”

“So what’s the problem?”

“There isn’t one, I guess? I just… What if it all goes horribly wrong? What if this ruins everything? For all of us, I mean. It could ruin both of our careers, could kill this place? Everyone I love is in that room -” she paused, “I don’t want to push him, but I also kind of want to know how he sees all of this… ending up?”

“Syd, relax. I guarantee if you look into that room right now, he’ll be the happiest you’ve ever seen him,” Carmy frowned, hoping they didn’t actually look for him, “that’s because of this place. Because of you, honey.”

“I guess…”

“I know. The good thing about doing this together, is that you’re in this together. Don’t stress, whatever happens happens. I mean, look at you! You’re the CDC of one of the hottest new restaurants, it’s your Christmas party and yet you’re in the kitchen in your dress and heels making sure everything is as it should be. There is nothing at all that you can’t do. You’re nothing short of incredible, you’re a force of nature Syd. If I had to bet on one thing, it’s that you have Carmen’s complete support in everything you do. I fucking love you.” He heard the shuffle of fabric, and from Syd’s muffled response, assumed they were hugging.

“Thank you, I love you too. Maybe you’re right.”

“I keep telling you both this, I’m always right. Now please, let’s go drink some more champagne and have some fun. You’re not wasting that dress in this kitchen. Jesus, I can't believe I didn't realise you're fucking my brother!” He heard the door swing and sighed, leaving the walk-in to go out back for a smoke.

“Cousin, yo, what’s goin’ on - you comin’ back in?” Richie stuck his head out a few minutes later, breaking the silence.

“Yeah man, I just needed to burn one.” He held one out for Richie who came to join him and let the door shut. “It’s goin’ ok, right?”

“Carm, it’s fuckin’ amazing. I am legit so fuckin’ proud of this place and everyone in it. You an’ Syd, man, you guys have made this place.”

“S’good you two get on now.”

“Aww she’s pretty great. Don’t fuckin’ tell her I told you.” He warned,

“I think she knows, dude. If it makes you feel any better, she was tellin’ me this morning that the nights you do expo are her favorite.”

“Fuckin’ knew it!” He laughed, then paused suddenly, “Wait, how’d you see her this morning?” Carmy felt Richie’s eyes scouring his face, widening in shock “No fuckin’ way, cuz!”

“I meant last night. Here. At work.”

“Bull fuckin’ shit. How long?”

“About a month. The night we got that review?”

“I mean, I thought you guys were eye fuckin’ over the pass, like, a little more than normal… but I did not expect that. Fuck, I owe Fak 20 bucks.”

“Great, thanks.”

“Hey man, don’t be mad at me. Are you… I dunno, are you happy?”

“I think I might be, yeah. Feels fuckin’ weird.”

“I bet. And Syd? She good?”

“I think she’s happy, yeah.”

“You in love or what?”

“I think I might be, cuz. I just… how do I know if I'm ready? Like, what if we fuck this place up?”

“No one is every fuckin’ ready, man. Never. And what if you make this place even better?” Carmy let the thought sink in, “Like, separately you’re both freaky fuckin’ geniuses and together it’s, like, even better. I know you’ve been on that ‘self care bein’ better for yourself’ kick cos you feel like you don’t deserve her,” Carmy sighed, “but you complete each other, cuz. There’s no other fuckin’ way to say it.”

“Fuck me, Richie, you should get a fuckin’ talk show.”

“Fuck you. I’m bein’ nice to you for once in your damn life.”

“I know, I’m still in shock.” They nudged each other. “I should tell her, right?”

“Yeah man, you should tell her.”

“Thanks cousin. Hey, don't say anything to her, yeah? That you know? She’s really stressed and I don’t want to make it fuckin’ worse.”

“Nah man, my lips are sealed. Love you dude, we’re gonna build a fuckin’ empire here.” Richie grasped his shoulder and joined their foreheads.

“Heard, Chef. Let it fuckin’ rip.”

“Anything for you, cuz.”

Though Carmy was right behind Richie going back into the party, he wasn’t quick enough. He entered through the swing door just in time to see Richie smile graciously at Syd and her dad before taking her elbow and pulling her to one side. He leaned down to talk in her ear. Carmy saw the way her eyebrows flew up to her hairline and the panic that crossed her face as she tried to pull away from him. She caught his eye briefly as Richie leaned down again and continued to talk, as he did so, she visibly started to relax.

“Your CDC is something fierce Carmy.” Uncle Jimmy said, handing him a beer. Carmy laughed,

“Yeah, she is pretty great.” They watched as Richie was joined by Nat and the baby, with Pete hovering beside them, Syd took the baby and held him to her like a human shield as they laughed together.

“I gave baby Mikey my 1% for a reason, you know?”

“Oh yeah?”

“This place, it’s 100% Berzatto. It has to be, Carmy.”

“Syd’s not a Berzatto, Unc,” Carmy raised his beer to his lips,

"Well yeah, not right now. But she will be. I could tell when you all came creeping for $500k. She matches your ethics, your outlook. She's your equal. I mean, look at her," They watch her with the family, with Richie and the team, with Nat and the baby, even with Pete. “She’s already a Berzatto. You might want to rescue her before they scare the shit outta her though?”

“Nah, she’s got it. She’s fuckin’ fearless. That’s why I love her,” he shrugged. Jimmy beamed, clapping him on the back,

“He’d be so proud of this, Carmen. He really would.”

“Thanks Uncle Jimmy.” He picked up a glass of wine from one of the trays and took it over to Syd who swapped him for the baby. “Can we try and get out of here for a sec?” He asked quietly. She nodded once and he passed Mikey to Pete. He followed her to the kitchen. Their kitchen.

“So Richie knows?” She sighed,

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Nat knows as well,” she admitted, “I told her earlier.”

“Your dad too.” He said with a sheepish grin,

“Oh my god.” She muttered, “how?!”

“I guess we’re shitty at hiding it? I know we said about just taking it easy and no pressure but,” he caught the frown that crossed her face,

“Fuck. I knew it, I knew it. This is why I said we had to stop, and now everyone fucking knows and it’s all gonna -” she stepped away from him

“No, Syd, fuck you’re so fuckin’ impatient. Would you just,” he took her hand, “would you let me finish? Please?” He sighed, dragging a hand through his curls. “I would go to the fuckin’ ends of the earth for you if that’s what you wanted. I don’t care about easy, or too much fuckin’ pressure, I only want you, and I want to be by your side when you take over the world and get three bullshit fucking stars - not just one. I can’t do this without you and I don’t want to, and I know I said that before but it was because I was too much of a fuckin’ coward to tell you that I’ve been in love with you since the day you walked in here.” She stared at him. Didn't say a word, just stared. "Syd?"

"Are you sure?" She asked eventually, still wary. He closed the gap between them again and took her hand.

"Am I… am I sure?" He laughed, "Yeah sweetheart, I'm fuckin' certain. And I will spend every day proving it to you if you'll let me?"

"I think I could live with that." She said softly.

"Yeah?" His hands slipped around her waist, drawing her closer.

"Yeah. The most excellent chef, occasionally a piece of shit," she teased.

"Only occasionally now? I'll take that," he smirked.

"Occasionally a piece of shit, rarely a total dickbag, thankfully," she assured him. "the best former CDC, now Exec Chef I've ever seen?" she leaned into him with a contented sigh as he kissed her. "I love you too."

"Thank you for showing me that none of this is a waste of time." He kissed her again, the stainless steel counter cold through the thin fabric of her dress. She broke the kiss, breathless, and looked over his shoulder and out to the restaurant. Their restaurant.

FIN

~~~~~~

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im-not-a-l0ser · 3 months

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The Michie Playlist

Click Here to listen to the playlist on Spotiy Click Here to listen to the playlist on youtube Click Here to see my opinion on the og (@wildrottingworms) playlist recomendations Click Here to see my opinion on other song requests (@24-guy, @milgram) for the playlist

Okay, so I analyse these the same as the others because I added these just with the 'oh, i think this'll be good for them,' thought, I didn't listen to them and then add them.

My Strange Addiction: I already talked about this song being michie, so this is actually the only one that I listened to and then added, and the reason this playlist exists.

Ocean Eyes: Do I... Do I need to explain this choice? I feel like I don't.

A Million Dreams: Yes, absolutely, super cute for childhood friends michie, adult reformed Richie; perfect.

Rewrite the Stars: Okay stick with me. For most of the song, Max is Zac Efron and Richie is Zendaya— except the very last by Zendaya, that is Max. Okay, do you see? Do you see my vision?

Tightrope: I really do love this for them, but I. I don't know why it makes me think more of Swedish Barbeque. Realistically its more lautski, but in either case, i still really like it for Michie. It's staying

Teen Idle: Okay, so this kinda breaks my rule. This song is about Richie, so it should be on the Richie playlist— but it's only under the context of Michie, specifically childhood friends Michie. It's about Richie regretting not following Max's path by his side so they could be together. Do you see? Do you... am I wrong? And then that slow verse is Max I think. Listening to it, I think that's Max.

Under My Skin: This one's a bit more loose, I think I'd rather have yall's opinion on it. Listen to it and get back to me.

Love Me, Normally: If you've seen my Will Wood post, you knew this was going to be on here. I don't think I need to explain this.

Lemon Boy: This is major childhood friends Michie vibes. Unfortunately, him and Lemon Boy still grow apart ;(

Blue Eyes Like Devil's Water: I added this on a whim, I'd never listened to it before, but it reminded me of Ocean Eyes in the title, so I added it. The guy singing this sounds so stressed out, which is mood wow. I can totally see it as a shifting pov song. I think I'm going to keep it? I'm very torn. If you don't like the voice cracky thing that McCafferty has going on, I definately don't blame you if/when you take it off. I'll probably skip it sometimes for that reason, because his anger is making it worse than usual.

Bottom: I was kind of surprised not to find it on the original playlist. It feels very them. Although, that may just be because I'm writing a thing I think it's fitting for, but I haven't published it yet.

A Thousand Years: Yes, this means a son from Twilight is on the Michie playlist. I am aware of this. I don't care, it's very good and very good for them. I'm keeping it, you can fucking fight me (/lh)

I Won't Say I'm In Love (Mashup): I am so glad this one won. I think the extra love songs give it depth, and the inclusion of "there might be something there that wasn't there before" is what really got me to want this version specifically on this playlist. There's technically still 15 hours left on this poll, so if the og or both end up wining, I'll put it on here too.

#starkid #nerdy prudes must die #richie lipschitz #max jagerman #michie #the michie playlist #the playlist series #just l0ser things #hatchetfield

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richietoaster · 4 months

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mother please give me some crumbs ive been waiting for another fic from you in over a YEAR!! I NEED to know- in your richie pov of grow as we go, can you tell us what we can expect? like are we gonna get it like a carbon copy of grow as we go, but just richies version (no hate/shade lol im genuinely curious cause i know some people do that- which isnt a bad thing ofc!!) or are we getting bonus scenes?

Lmao your opening is hilarious I love you 🤣🤣🤣 I do apologize for not posting anything for so long, it’s been the longest I went without doing so.. Ya girl has had a rough past year, but NEVERMIND THAT

You ask and I shall deliver!! I’ll tell you what I plan to do without giving anything away (not that it really matters ig??? bc if yall read grow as we go then you know how it will pan out lol)

SO. There WILL be carbon copies of only some things, especially conversations. Not EVERYTHING and probably not EVERY conversation, except with Eddie. It’s going to feature the same dialogue in that aspect, but from Richie’s view and his emotions. I also would LIKE to add more dialogue to some scenes, I’ve been rereading Grow As We Go a lot to see what exactly I need to do to make this fic work and flow well, without accidentally having any plotholes, and I think that adding more dialogue to some scenes would be nice.

There are going to be different scenes too. Obviously in GAWG there were points in time where Richie was not present around Eddie. This doesn’t mean I’m going to write what Richie was doing, as things were happening with Eddie without him

Just like in GAWG, I plan to have a few flashback scenes.

I’m also going to touch on a few things that were mentioned more than once in my fic, but didn’t delve too much into detail with.

I hope this answers your question, nonny! I’m excited for this fic, as I DO think it also has the potential to be even longer than GAWG. And she was over 14k words long! My goal is to hit 20k words in “Richie’s version” 🤣 that may be a stretch, but I think it’s very possible.

She’s still a work in progress and it PROBABLY won’t be done by Christmas but I am hoping!!!

#this ask made me so happy #thank you for the ask!#I love talking about my work and I love when people are interested enough to express interest in it #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it 2017 #it 2019

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nolita-fairytale · 9 months

Text

don’t want to walk alone | carmen ‘carmy' berzatto | chapter three: september

summary: the moment we've all be waiting for: you and carmy get married.

warnings: swearing, eventual smut, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov, she/her pronouns

wc: 7.1k

listen to: the official don't want to walk alone playlist. there is SO much music in this chapter, so per the playlist, it starts with 'it takes two' and ends with 'love story.'

a/n: ok so this chapter was a behemoth to write and i am in fact in love with it. it's taken me days, really weeks, to get what i wanted out of it and i still feel like i could've gone deeper. however, i'm also kind of just happy to have this out in the world and give these two the wedding they wanted me to give them. each moment was curated and thought out, down to the music selection so this chapter is really just a product of me stewing on this idea for quite a bit of time. this is a part of my make my heart surrender universe so check out the masterlist if you haven't read the series! next up? their long weekend at the langham where we really get carmy x reader and moments for just them. please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

part two | masterlist | part four

“It takes two to make a thing go riiiiight.”

You never pictured the night before your wedding like this, you think to yourself, as you listen to Fak sing, to the best of his ability in a somewhat-decent falsetto, along to the 90s hip hop classic.

Hell, you’re not sure you really ever pictured your wedding, but as you sit, surrounded by the people you love, you can’t see it going any other way than this. You watch as Richie rallies up as many people as he can for shots of Mallort, recounting that infamous morning at Ceres – a story he’s told over and over again, yet still manages to tell as animated and boisterously as the first time you heard it.

You groan as you watch Richie successfully convince Gary to take a shot with him, Gary’s face twisting into a look of disgust in response to the foul taste of the Chicago liquor, as Sugar reminds him that he should know better by now.

Carmy gives your knee a squeeze while simultaneously brushing off Richie’s attempt at shoving a shot in his direction. You laugh, a warm feeling filling you to the brim (could be the beer, could be being surrounded by your people), while Sydney jumps right into her best Rob Base impression.

It just so happens that your continuously put-off ‘let’s shoot for next month’ karaoke plans with a few staff members from The Bear coincided with plans to go out with friends before the wedding, which is how you’ve found yourself here.

After a lovely dinner at The Bear, your parents went back to the hotel for the night, insisting that you two go and have your fun. And as much as you would’ve loved to have brought your mother-who-has-a-doctorate-in-music-theory to karaoke night, she much preferred a good night’s sleep.

The crowded bar claps enthusiastically as Fak and Sydney wrap up their song, finishing their truly-made-up-only-for-comedy dance moves. You giggle, exchanging another glance with Carmy, as your friends take their bows, before shuffling off of the stage.

You hear the loud boom of the emcee’s voice through the microphone as he says:

“And up next we got… Tina!”

“Let’s go, T!” you shout through hands crowded around your mouth, in an effort to increase your volume of sound.

Carmy cheers, clapping his hands together as Richie enthusiastically chants Tina’s name while Tina makes her way to the stage.

“This is gonna be good,” Sugar nudges you, from where you are, seated in between the Berzatto siblings.

You nod your head in agreement before settling in a little closer to Carmy.

“The queen, herself,” Sydney remarks, gesturing towards the stage as she and Fak both return to your table. Sydney pulls up a chair next to where you and Carmy sit while Fak joins Richie on the other side of it. “And the ONLY act that could follow our exceptional performance.”

“Well, exactly,” you agree, playfully.

You exchange a laugh with Syd, while Carmy playfully rolls his eyes at the two of you.

The crowded bar room goes quiet as soon as Tina reaches the stage, smiling nervously as she grabs the mic.

“This one goes out to our favorite Jeffrey. And his lady Jeff,” she begins, earning a round of cheers and hollers from the group you’re with. Tina blows a kiss you and Carmy’s way, before nodding at the emcee to begin.

“I love you guys.”

You hear the beginning notes of the iconic Etta James tune, gasping in anticipation of her song:

“at last my love has come along my lonely days are over and life is like a song.”

You sigh in admiration, a hand over your heart as Tina continues to sing. Her voice is powerful, soulful – perfect for the song, really – as she continues into the second verse.

“at last the skies above are blue my heart was wrapped up in clover the night I looked at you.”

This time, it’s Carmy who steals a glance your way, his mind taken back to that fateful night at a bar in Hell’s Kitchen, when he spilled his drink on you so many years ago. You’re entranced, enchanted, with Tina’s performance, and he thinks to himself, that maybe this is the best it’s ever going to get: being here with you, getting to love you, on the cusp of promising you ‘forever’ tomorrow.

Never had he expected that you’d make it this far. You’d always been so much cooler than him – well-liked, talented, funny – in and out of the kitchen, that he had no idea how the hell he was supposed to talk to you without vomiting all over your shoes out of nerves.

He can remember that night so vividly: standing there in the restroom of the bar he can barely remember the name of, while you stood across from him with the kind of glare on your face he swore could kill him. But you didn’t, and after many attempts to push you away, you asked him to be your friend, deeming it the day that started it all – a friendship that would teeter the line of friendship and something more, one that would bloom into the greatest love he’s ever known. As much as he hates to give Nate fucking Walker any kind of credit, he’ll the be first in line to say he’s glad the jagoff pushed him into you, setting it all in motion.

You can see that Carmy’s become distracted, lost in thought as the song finishes, something behind your favorite pair of blue eyes as the entire bar ignites into a huge round of celebratory claps for Tina’s performance.

You look up over at him, setting your beer bottle down on the table before leaning over to whisper in his ear.

“I can hear you thinkin’ over there, Berzatto,” you tease him quietly, pulling him from his trip down memory lane. “It’s only the night before the biggest day of your life. Relax.”

Carmy rolls his eyes playfully in response, but before he can properly respond to your jab, the emcee has begun introducing the next karaoke singers to the stage.

“Alright. Looks like I’ve got uh… three singers here this time,” the emcee says, his voice cutting sharply through the crowd of remaining cheers. “Let’s welcome Sydney back to the stage with… Sugar and… the bride to be!”

“What!?” you exclaim, your eyes wide with surprise as Sydney jumps to her feet.

“But I didn’t-,” you begin to protest, as Sugar pulls you to your feet, tugging on your arm.

“Oh there’s no way in hell we’re letting you sit this one out,” Sugar orders you, as Sydney rushes to your side, ushering you towards the stage.

“Yeah this was your idea!” Sydney simultaneously reminds you.

“Babe! Help!” you call out to Carmy, only to be met with a shrug and a look that says ‘don’t think I could if I tried.’

“Oh, he’s in on this,” Sydney adds, which does explain why he didn’t even attempt to help you when your friends began dragging you out of your chair. “So don’t even think about asking him for help.”

“Wh-? But I don’t even know what we’re singing!” you continue to protest, looking from Sugar to Sydney as they push you onto the stage with them.

“Trust,” Sydney reassures you, her face serious, while Nat slides a sash over you (one you’ve refused to wear all night) that has the word, ‘BRIDE’ printed over it in huge gold lettering. You groan, sending a glare in Nat’s direction, even though you know it’s all in good fun.

You hear Richie shout, while Fak and Marcus clap loudly, and Carmy laughs, shouting words of encouragement your way.

You know there’s no use in putting up a fight, especially since this was your idea anyways, as you begrudgingly take one of the three wireless mics. Before you can ask once more, what the hell Syd and Nat signed the three of you up to sing, a distinct slide of piano keys comes in, lighting up the karaoke screen in front of you.

You grin immediately, in recognition, and to your two best friend’s delight, as they smile too, raising the mics to your lips to sing:

“friday night and the lights are low looking out for a place to go where they play the right music getting in the swing you come to look for a king.”

You laugh as your friends point towards Carmy on the last line. The three of you continue to sing the next part with reckless abandon, and all is forgiven.

You could care less about how the three of them conspired against you to get you up here. All that matters now is that you’re here, singing one of your favorite songs with your best friends, grooving and dancing to the ABBA classic, as you prepare to marry your best friend.

“you can dance you can jive having the time of your life ooh, see that girl watch that scene digging the dancing queen.”

"what good is love without any strings?" dayglow, 'close to me'

“Baby.”

Carmy groans in response, as soon as he hears the low hum of your voice.

“Good morning,” you say, a soft smile on your face as you watch him begin to blink his eyes open.

Carmy turns his head towards you, and he can’t believe he gets to wake up to this – to you – every single day.

“Hey,” he says back, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “Good Morning, sweetheart.”

“Guess what?” you ask him with the kind of glee and anticipation as a kid on Christmas morning.

“Hmm?” he hums, as you smooth a hand over his chest, your body pressed against his side as you look at your soon-to-be husband.

“We’re getting married today,” you grin, a giddiness that bubbles inside of you.

“‘S that so?” he mumbles, playfully.

“Uh huh,” you nod with a chuckle, this time playing along. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

Instead of replying with words, Carmy swiftly wraps an arm around you, before flipping you so that you’re the one on your back this time. You let out of a shriek and a laugh as he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before adding:

“How could I ever?”

You shrug casually, “Weeeelll…. you just have so much going on up there.” You reach up to where Carmy hovers above you, brushing a golden curl out of his eyes as you continue your little dance.

“You know, between the restaurant and all that time spent being a genius,” you joke, bantering with Carmy. “Don’t know how you have the time to remember silly little things like wedding dates and what not.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Carmy laughs, shaking his head incredulously, before pressing another kiss, this one much deeper to your lips again.

And this time, as he pulls away, he gives you one of those languid looks that pierces right through your soul replying much more seriously this time with:

“I could never forget you.”

The way he says it with such conviction takes your breath away, and you know that Carmy means it. The double meaning isn’t lost on him either.

It’s one of the reasons he called you all those years ago to come teach Marcus; it’s why you ended up in Chicago:

Because as much as he tried, as damn good at compartmentalizing as he’d always been, he really could never forget you. Carmy shakes his head once more, a playful smile on his face as he leans down to kiss you again, wondering when the hell he got this fuckin’ sentimental. As he places his mouth over yours, you’re more than happy to switch gears into doing this dance for a little longer.

Carmy traces light shapes against your skin, his mouth pouring love into yours with every kiss, with every drag of his tongue. You gasp as he grinds his hips into yours, making it clear where he’d like this all to go. You pull away, only for a moment, giggling cheekily.

“Babe, I-,” you begin to protest, as Carmy chuckles, continuing to kiss you with zero intention of stopping “We… we’re going to be late.” This time, you feel his hands snake underneath the t-shirt you’ve been sleeping in, sending chills down your spine.

“And-, Carm-, I-, I have to do my hair for-, … and what about-, my parents, they’ll-,” you stammer through, your thoughts becoming all kinds of disorganized with the way Carmy’s lips move against your neck this time.

“I’ll be quick,” he answers with an aplomb you didn’t know he had in him.

“I don’t know if that’s the flex you think it is,” you tease him as his hands begin to cup your breasts, your body responding with an involuntary arch of your back.

“How fast I can make you come? I think it might be?” he murmurs against your lips, cockily.

“Carmy,” you moan, as he begins to pull your t-shirt up higher, making it incredibly difficult to think of your to-do list for much longer.

“Oh fuck it,” you sigh, deciding that, perhaps there’s no harm in getting the honeymoon started a little early anyways.

“That’s my girl,” Carmy whispers against you, grinning like a Cheshire cat as you surrender to him.

And he’s right about this too.

How fast he can make you cum deserves all kinds of bragging rights, awards – a Nobel Peace prize, even – and you’re not sure why you thought getting a head start on doing your hair would’ve been the better idea in the first place. You spend the morning in the arms of the man you plan to spend forever with as he writes love letters, promises to give you the world, declarations of adoration with the pleasure he brings you. And besides, you’re not running all that behind on time anyways – something you realize, as the two of you get out of the shower (a round two, really).

It takes a little longer than expected – mostly due to the fact that you and Carmy can’t seem to keep your hands off of each other – but against all odds, the two of you pull up to the courthouse right on time.

It’s a sight for sore eyes: you, running hand in hand with your husband-to-be in a white, halter-cut wedding dress while Carmy follows along, in a classic black suit – no tie around the neck – as the two of you hurry into the courthouse.

Sure, you could’ve tried to get here early – saved a little time and stress – but where’s the fun in that?

The two of you approach your families, hand in hand, to the sounds of your heels clicking against the marble floors of City Hall. The actual ceremony at City Hall, you’d both decided, would be family only.

Since you weren’t making a huge deal of it, you viewed this part as necessary paperwork, while the party itself could function as the ceremony and reception. But as soon as you see the look on your parents’ faces, you know this is more than just a few signed papers. You watch as their faces change, from impatient, waiting, eager, to in awe and emotional as you walk towards them.

You hear Ava shout your name, immediately dropping her dad’s hand as she runs towards you.

“Ava!!” you exclaim, bending down in your heels and white dress to scoop her up into a hug. You spin her around, just for a moment, before setting her back down on the floor.

“You look like a princess,” she says, completely in awe, her eyes wide as she looks up at you.

“You look like a princess, sweetie,” you reply, before giving her another hug. “And you know I can’t wait to hear your song, right?”

“I picked the best one,” she grins, proudly.

“I’m sure you did,” you reply confidently, with a playful wink.

“Oh-ho! Pay up, Rick,” Sugar mutters smugly, to Richie, as Carmy busies himself with greeting both of your parents.

Richie groans, muttering something profane as he not-so-discreetly hands Nat a $20 bill, earning a quizzical look from both of your parents that travels from Carmy and then to you.

“Sorry,” Richie apologizes, this time directing this one towards your parents as he holds up both hands, respectfully bowing his head.

You send a playful glare Richie’s way, earning a sardonic laugh from Natalie, as you push right past him and over to your parents.

“Oh sweetie,” your mom gasps, pulling you in for a tight squeeze.

“Hi, Mom,” you grin, as you hug her. “Dad!”

“My God, honey, you look beautiful,” your dad says, as it’s his turn next. You hug your dad, exchanging a few words about the morning, asking how they slept, how the hotel is, as your mom and Carmy hug it out.

This time, he turns his attention towards Carmy, so you release him, letting the two of them have their moment.

Taking your chance, while your parents are otherwise distracted, you make your way over to where Sugar and Richie stand.

“What? You guys were betting on whether or not we’d be late?” you ask Sugar, an eyebrow quirked in Richie’s direction.

“Listen,” Sugar sighs, cupping your face in her hands, endearingly. “You and Carm are nothing if not consistent.” You exchange a laugh with your almost-sister-in-law because you know she’s right. “And for the record, I bet that you’d be-.”

“Just in time!” the judge says, as he approaches the six of you, slipping his judge robe over his shoulders, black leather fold pressed against his chest. “You guys ready to get started?”

Carmy looks over at you, as if he’s waiting for you to take the lead here, and you nod, before the both of you turn back to the judge.

“Yes.”

“Great,” he smiles, clapping his hands together once. “Then let’s get you two married!”

"sooner or later, you'll find yourself right where you were, on the corner went looking for her, she had somethin' to tell you, she can't quite remember, but wait for a second, it always comes back to her, you always come back to her." -- the japanese house, 'morning pages'

And after dotting all appropriate i’s and crossing all necessary t’s, with one signed marriage license later, you, Carmy, your parents, Richie and Ava, Sugar, and Judge Thompson find yourself on the green roof of City Hall.

Carmy stands across you, his hands in yours, offering you a lifetime with one look from the most expressive blue orbs you’ve ever found yourself in.

“If you’d like to say something, if you prepared any vows… now would be the time,” Judge Thompson says, offering you and Carmy both the space to do so.

“Oh I think we-,” you begin, ready to decline the opportunity since you figured you’d save it for the reception.

“Actually uh, yeah. Can we?” Carmen interjects, sending you a look of reassurance.

“Of course,” Judge Thompson nods, giving you and Carmy the floor.

“Carm, I didn’t prepare anything for-,” you begin, but he’s quick to put your mind and heart at ease and he interjects with:

“It’s okay. I did.”

“Oh.”

You hadn’t expected this, since you both agreed you’d save any kind of speeches that may or may not happen today during the reception. But as Carmy’s palms grow clammier, a nervous look in his eyes as he searches for the words he’s practiced over the last few days, it becomes clear that he’s been planning this.

“As you know… I’m not always great with words,” he begins, almost apologetically, letting out a small laugh as he looks to Richie for reassurance. In turn, Richie gives Carmy a sympathetic nod, and you’re practically melting over the fact that he probably asked Richie for help with this.

Let it rip.

“I just uh-,” Carmy stammers, because he really, really wants to get this right. “Well, I’ll keep it brief.” He takes a breath, letting all of his nerves out on the exhale before beginning again.

Let it rip, buddy.

“I have loved you for so long – I think maybe since the day you brought me soup after I uh… you know, spilled my drink on you,” he states, earning the sweetest laugh from you, your friends, and family that came to witness.

“-- so I promise to love you for even longer, for forever. You changed my life.”

You exhale, trying your best not to cry right here and now, thankful for the mysterious powers of waterproof mascara.

“Jeez, no pressure,” you joke, dryly, before taking another breath, this time approaching your words with much more seriousness.

“Carmen. I’m so happy… that I changed your life,” you begin, cheekily, earning a laugh from your witnesses once more. “Because you changed mine. And I promise to love you forever.”

‘I love you,’ Carmy mouths to you, before nodding towards the judge to signal that you’re both done with your vows.

“Alright then,” Judge Thompson smiles, looking from you and then to Carmen, before uttering the question that will change the course of your life forever.

“I do,” Carmy replies, his voice even, sure, ready.

Natalie steps up this time, handing Carmy your ring, and you watch, teary eyed and full hearted as he slides it onto your left ring finger.

“And do you take Carmen Anthony Berzatto to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Judge Thompson repeats the question, this time for you to answer.

“Yeah, why the hell not?” you reply, earning a groan from your mother and a playful chuckle from your father.

“Yes. I do.”

At Richie’s encouragement, it’s Ava this time who steps up, handing you Carmy’s ring, with the sweetest most excited smile on her face as she looks from you to Carmy. You thank her, before returning your attention to Carmy once more. His eyes search your face, and there’s something so soft, so genuine in them that you think you’re going to cry as you help him put on his new piece of jewelry as well.

“Then by the power vested in me by the State of Illinois, I now pronounce you, husband and wife,” Judge Thompson concludes, contently.

“Should we-, do we kiss?” Carmy asks, looking from you to Judge Thompson.

“I’m just a civil servant but you may, yes,” he answers lightheartedly.

“Let’s go for it,” you shrug, taking a step towards Carmy.

Instead of answering, he smiles, stepping towards you before planting one on you in front of your friends and family that were invited to this brief ceremony.

While Sugar claps gleefully, Richie claps along muttering a ‘get a room,’ while you remind Carmy to keep it PG enough for your parents. You giggle, slowly pulling away from the kiss that begins the rest of your life with the man that you love.

“We did it, baby. We’re married,” you chuckle, in disbelief.

“Finally,” Carmy sighs, and you can see his smile from his lips to the crinkles in the corners of his eyes.

It doesn’t take long for your mom to usher both you and Carmy over to a spot in the garden she thinks will be best for pictures, just as the photographer arrives. She wasn’t wrong when she insisted you hire one, that you’d want to remember this day for the rest of your life. The photographer, who is incredibly talented, gets the shots needed up here in the garden, then downstairs, and outside, before you’re all off to Sugar’s place for the reception.

As you and Carmy sit in the car, having taken a separate one than your parents, you’re giddy with anticipation.

It’s all so surreal.

Never in his life did Carmy picture it ever getting this good, but as he looks over at you, your head resting on his shoulder, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, smiling to himself.

“We did it, sweet girl. We’re married,” he says, repeating your words from earlier.

“Yeah,” you grin, lifting your head off of his shoulder.

“We are, Bear.”

"give your heart and soul to me, and life will always be la vie en rose."

“No, Sugar! That’s not supposed to go out yet. Everything’s goin’ out family style. Let’s just take out the apps for-,” Carmy exclaims, stressed over the execution of your wedding reception-slash-brunch, because he just can’t help himself.

“Fuckin’ Christ, Bear!” she snaps at her brother. “Will you calm down and let us handle this?”

“I just want everything to-,” Carmy begins, his face blushing a shade darker.

“To go right. We know. And we know we’re just taking out apps, alright? Everyone else is outside, and everyone’s having a good time so just… relax,” she suggests, her tone serious because she’s just about to kick Carmy out of the kitchen.

Carmy shifts nervously, hyper-fixating on the happenings of the kitchen, his eyes tracking the movements of one of his caterer, Derek’s, sous chefs. It’s almost as if he needs to give himself a distraction as he asks, blankly:

“Do you uh… you think Mom is actually gonna show?”

Sugar pauses, the question throwing her.

“I… I don’t know. I called her yesterday. She never picked up. What do you think?” she replies, her voice quiet.

With your encouragement, you and Carmy had sent his mother an invitation to the brunch, only it’s been Sugar who’s followed up with her.

“We did what we needed to and if she doesn’t come, then she doesn’t come. I’m not pushin’ it,” Carmy had explained, justifying his actions, or rather, lack there of, to you.

She’s doubtful, but Nat can’t help the tiny glimmer of hope she has in her heart that Donna might show, even if she knows it’s unrealistic. In fact, her mom had barely been interested in stopping by as of late, ever since she’d told the Berzatto matriarch that she was pregnant. She keeps telling herself that it doesn’t matter – that it’s probably better if Donna doesn’t show – but it doesn’t help ease the disappointment she feels about the situation as a whole.

“Doubt it, honestly. Never even got an RSVP so,” Carmy shrugs, his eyes following one of the caterers as the woman plates a few Hors d'oeuvres on a large serving platter.

Before Sugar can say anything else about their mom, Carmy’s impulse takes over as he opens his mouth to give feedback to one of Derek’s assistants.

“Carmy!” she snaps, blocking his pathway with her body, before repeating one more time:

“Let. Us. Handle this.”

“I mean, are any of us actually surprised, Nat?” Sydney adds, as soon as she enters the kitchen from where she’s been outside in the backyard, in search of another plate to bring out. “He’s a control freak! We know this!”

“I-,” Carmy starts, knowing it’s no use protesting, as both Sugar and Syd begin guiding him out of the kitchen and into the living room.

“C’mon, Carm. Why don’t you go see what your wife is up to?” Sydney suggests, emphasizing your new title, earning a snicker from Natalie.

“Who’s wife? This wife?” you ask, as soon as your feet hit the bottom of the staircase.

“Woah,” is all Carmy says. He can’t help but stare, gawking at you in your new dress.

You’ve changed out of your near-floor length wedding dress into a sleeveless white blazer dress that’s much more friendly to hanging out with your friends and family outside, kept your hair the same, and put on one of those super stay red lipsticks that you’re eager to put through its paces.

It’s as if time stops when he sees you, and Sugar and Syd both notice, using this time to retreat back to their duties. The only thing that can break his focus right now is the way that you let a carefree laugh fly from your lips, as soon as you see that Natalie’s using the future baby’s baby gate that Nat must’ve purchased early, to officially block Carmy from coming back to the kitchen.

“What?” Carmy asks, only to be met with a gesture towards what Natalie is doing.

He frowns, immediately seeing the baby gate his sister has put up.

“You know, I’m not a baby,” he pouts at his sister.

“Then stop acting like one!” she parries right back, before disappearing into the kitchen to help out your caterer.

Quick to console your husband, you wrap your arms around your neck, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“They’re only trying to make sure we have a good time, Bear,” you offer, sympathetically, only to be met with a heavy sigh because you know it feels near-impossible for him not to be in the kitchen.

“You trust Derek right?” you ask this time, referring to the caterer that Carmy hand-picked for your wedding.

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Okay. Then let’s go out there. Make our grand entrance,” you suggest, a playful smile on your lips.

“Yeah,” Carmy nods again, this time a little more sure about taking a step away from what’s happening inside the kitchen. You take his hand, leading him towards the back door that opens up to the backyard.

You’re truly amazed at what everyone involved has been able to do this morning, while you and Carmy were off at the courthouse getting married. Long tables pushed together and covered with tablecloths function as the main attraction of the you-and-Carmy-wedding-reception-brunch, filled with ceramic plates, printed menus, apps on serving platters, taper candles and flowers in all kinds of little to big vases.

The minute the two of you enter the backyard area that’s been transformed into a wedding venue, you’re met with cheers, ooo’s and aaaaah’s, claps, and congratulations by your friends and family.

“Sugar really knocked this out of the park,” Carmy says, in awe as he takes in the scene. “Okay, fine. I’ll just have to trust, I guess.”

You nod, happy to hear the confidence in his voice as you agree, “That’s my guy!”

There’s a banner that hangs across a much smaller table, the one that holds the stunning wedding cake Marcus has made for you that reads, Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Berzatto.

“See? I told you I couldn’t wait to be Mrs. Berzatto,” you joke with Carmy, as the two of you walk hand in hand towards the table.

“I think I like the sound of that more than I should,” Carmy smirks, a glimmer in his eyes that says ‘I can’t wait to get you alone.’

“Can’t wait for you to show me later,” you wink, referring to the long weekend you plan on spending with Carmy as a pre-honeymoon. “C’mon. We should probably go say hello.”

“So… you two married now or what?” Marcus asks, as soon as the two of you approach the table.

You hold up your left hand, showing off your new ring, earning grins and more cheers from your friends and family.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” he celebrates, while Tina simultaneously and enthusiastically cries out: “Congratulations, babies!”

The plan is to divine and conquer. While you chat with Gary, Carmy lets himself become enveloped in Tina’s arms and praise, as the two of you make your way down the table saying hello to your guests: your parents, Marcus, Tina, Ebra, Fak, Gary, a few others from the restaurant, while.

Carmy’s glad you decided to keep this wedding small: close friends and family only, because he’s not sure he could’ve done any more of this. It’s just close friends from the restaurant and your parents. You’d even decided earlier that this weekend would be chill enough that you’d celebrate with Maya and Liz a few months later when you and Carmy stop in New York before the official honeymoon, planning another celebration with your New York people for later.

Besides, you don’t mind celebrating you and Carmy a few more times, after all.

Finally, you’re both able to settle into the empty chairs seated right next to your parents in the middle of the table labeled ‘bride’ and ‘groom.’ It’s a Saturday well spent, being celebrated by some of your favorite people in the world on a day you made a promise to your favorite person in the world. It doesn’t take long for everyone in the kitchen to join you at the table: Sugar, Richie, Sydney, and Pete, and once the meal is served, family style, you’re pulling up chairs and insisting that Derek and his team join you as well.

The menu is perfect, and you can see why Carmy’s been trying to get this guy to come work for him for so long. Next to Carmy’s, this carbonara might be your second favorite carbonara on the planet. After all the eating, drinking, and merry-making, it’s Richie who steps up to start the speeches, gently tapping a butter knife against a champagne glass as he stands at the table.

“Can I get everyone’s attention?” he asks, his voice loud. Richie raises his champagne glass as he begins his speech with:

“Now as the best man and this Bobby Flay-motherfucker's cousin, I think I earn the right to kick this thing off, eh?” earning a laugh from everyone around the table.

“To Carmy and his much, much better half,” he continues, earning a laugh from everyone around the table. Your mom squeezes your hand under the table, and out of the corner of your eye you can see Sydney nudging Carmy softly as Richie addresses you.

“You once made me $150 richer.” You laugh, exchanging a look with your now-husband, as you fondly remember the day you returned to Chicago, only to learn that the entire restaurant staff of The Bear had been betting, not on if, but on when you’d return.

“You see, we all took bets – all of us – that you were comin’ back after that first week you spent here in Chicago, and you know why? I think it was obvious to any jagoff with a pair of eyes that what you and Cousin had was something special – something not to be missed, or overlooked, or skipped over. And thank God you two idiots woke up and figured it out yourselves. You did good, cousin. And I know your brother would’ve wanted to be here for this. I love you, man. I love you both.”

“To this very special day, and to the rest of your lives. Cheers.”

“Cheers!” everyone repeats, raising their glasses, clinking in celebration.

The upside to having a small wedding party is having a small wedding party, and the downside is that everyone who feels the need to get in a word does so. While Ebraheim waxes on about love as a metaphor, Marcus keeps his toast short, leading to the cutting of your wedding cake:

Vanilla bean cake, with a clementine curd, a swiss meringue buttercream, decorated with delicate flowers, citrus, and dollops of curd to finish.

Richie slips out with Pete momentarily, earning a few quizzical looks from both Carmy and Nat as she gets up from the table to make sure they’re not trading punches in the driveway. It’s not till Richie returns with Pete, carrying a rented little karaoke machine for Ava. Hand in hand, you watch as Natalie guides Ava up and out of her chair, and over to the head of the table, handing her the microphone.

“You ready, sweetheart?” she asks, earning a confident nod from Ava.

The beginning of the famous Taylor Swift begins to play, and you and Carmy exchange a knowing look as she begins to sing along.

“we were both young when i first saw you i close my eyes and the flashback starts i'm standin' there on a balcony in summer air.”

As Natalie and Pete watch on, Pete hugs his wife close to her, tears in his eyes as he whispers:

“This is going to be us very, very soon.”

“Yeah,” Nat nods, holding back her own tears as she notices how proud Richie looks, and how happy Ava seems to be.

It’s not that she wants Donna here. Realistically, she knows that it would be a nightmare, most likely descending into drama and chaos from the minute she walked in, but she can’t believe that her own mother didn’t come to her son’s wedding. She shouldn’t be surprised, but it hurts more than she imagined, doing this, watching Carmy get married, having this baby with Pete, all without her.

Ava finishes her Taylor Swing song to a resounding and enthusiastic round of applause. Marcus cheers her on while you and Carmy share a soft, chaste kiss, welcoming Ava with open arms as she runs towards you.

“That was so good, baby,” Richie exclaims, when it’s his turn to scoop Ava up into his arms as you get out of your seat. Allowing Richie to sit next to Carmy while the two gush over her performance, you get up, eager to help put the karaoke machine away.

As she watches, Nat reminds herself that this is what family looks like – this is the family she wants for her baby – even if it means something, someones, are missing.

And it’s as if she can’t hold back her tears anymore, excusing herself as she jerks her body away from Pete’s grasp, hurrying back inside so as not to cause a scene.

“What just-?” Pete begins.

“I’ll go,” you assure him, having witnessed the whole interaction. “I-, it’s not you, Pete. I’ll go.”

It doesn’t take you long to find Nat, though she’s not where you expected her to be, having run all the way upstairs when you find her sitting on the floor of the baby’s nursery – one you helped paint and get ready over a month ago.

“Hey, everything alright?” you ask, as you gently push the door open.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” she sniffles, wiping tears out of her eyes as she realizes she’s no longer alone.

“Nat, what… what’s going on?” you ask her, joining her on the floor.

But it seems as if your question only makes it worse as her face crumbles once more, beginning to cry.

“Oh no! I-, Nat, sweetie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it even worse.”

“No, no, you didn’t. It’s just these… stupid pregnancy hormones!” she exclaims, frustratedly, earning a small laugh from the both of you.

She takes a beat, and then a breath, and then finally, she feels ready to tell you.

“It’s Mom,” she admits, even though she really doesn’t want it to be. “I just can’t believe she didn’t show. It’s stupid, I know.”

You nod in understanding, before scooting a little closer to her, “It’s not stupid! And I’m sorry. For the both of you, really. Carmy doesn’t want to talk about it but, I know he’s some combination of relieved and disappointed too.”

Sugar sighs, “Yeah that uh, that sums it up pretty well. About anything involving Mom these days.”

Nat takes another breath, and another beat, because she knows she’s safe to share this with you.

“I just… I’ve just been thinking a lot… with the baby and everything. About family. About motherhood. I mean, your parents are so great and I-. I’m just sad for us, you know?”

“I’m sad for you too,” you empathize, rubbing soothing circles on her back, before leaning back on both of your hands instead.

“God, I’m so sorry. It’s your wedding day and I’m causing all the drama,” Nat begins to apologize.

“Oh, you have nothing to be sorry for!” you interrupt her, quick to dismiss any notion of that. “You lent us your house and put together all of this in your backyard on top of accompanying us to the courthouse! You have nothing to apologize for.”

Sugar nods slowly, processing what you’ve just said, realizing that you and Pete have been such big role models of unconditional love for her.

“Wanna know what I think?” you ask, your voice a little more optimistic this time.

“What’s up?” she asks back, stealing a glance your way.

“I think… that now that I’m a Berzatto… and with your little Bear on the way,” you begin, painting her the picture. “We’ve got a whole new chance to write a new chapter for the Berzattos.”

She looks your way once more, because these are the words she didn’t know she needed to hear.

“And with that… we can make this… make our families anything we want them to be filled with love, and joy, and-, well, only a little drama because you know, you guys are… you. But… Sug. This can all start with us, you know?”

“You really think so?” she asks you, a hopeful look in her eyes.

“Yeah,” you answer, confidently.

She nods slowly once more, almost as if she’s letting herself believe them.

“Thank you. For checking in on me. For… this,” she says softly, sniffling again.

“That’s what sisters are for,” you repeat her words back to her, one’s that she’s said to you time and time again.

“We should probably get back out there,” Sugar suggests, sitting up a little taller this time.

“Yeeeaaaaahhhhh,” you sigh, disappointedly, this time making a joke as you continue with: “We don’t want to start any rumors about us running away together.

Nat snorts with laughter, thanking you for always making her laugh, as you stand up, making your way to your feet. You hold out your hands, helping Nat up to hers this time, before the two of you head back downstairs.

“Hey,” Carmy says, as soon as he sees the two of you. “Pete said you disappeared.”

“We were just talking about some stuff,” you reply, sharing a look with Sugar before releasing her hand.

“I’ll leave the two of you to it,” she says, before slipping out through the back door.

“Everything okay?” Carmy asks, his brow knitted together in concern.

You nod, “Yeah, she’s alright. How’re you doing?”

“Today? I’m the luckiest man in the world,” he replies, a smile on his lips that makes you melt.

“Damn right you are,” you reply, pressing your lips against his.

It’s a private moment for just you two, where you can kiss him like you want to, and you have to admit that the lipstick holds up. Wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands go to your waist, you propose a grand idea to your husband:

“Now that cake has been cut… what do you say… we spend a little more time with our guests, say our goodbyes… then we get our honeymoon started early? Think uh… our room at the Langham should be ready by now.”

“Thought we already did that this morning,” Carmy smirks, kissing you again.

You giggle, leaning your forehead against his, “You know what I mean, jerk.”

Carmy scoffs, shaking his head incredulously as he feigns hurt, “Married for a few hours and you’re already insulting me.” Instead of adding anything else, he simply pulls you in closer by your hips murmuring against your lips:

“Alright then, Mrs. Berzatto. Then let’s go say goodbye to our guests.”

“it's a love story, baby, just say, "yes" – taylor swift, ‘love story’

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kittyamore0 · 1 year

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Hi can I have an Ethan x fem reader carpenter sister.Her and Ethan have a complicated relationship.Because of what happened in scream 5 how her first boyfriend died she is afraid to love Ethan.He is all sad and thinks she hates him because of how distant she has become.now let’s pretend Ethan was in the apartment scene when they are attacked.The reader decided to jump in front of him and gets stabbed.Later on in the ambulance Ethan is crying to her because she almost died asking her why she would do that.She confesses how she really feels about him.( I requested this from a different author so please do feel pressured to do it quickly thank you)

A/N: Sam is going to be in this and Richie is going to have a brother who was the reader's boyfriend. His name is Rylie!

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔

°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚

FANDOM/GENRE: Horror, dark romance, scream 6, Ghostface, Ethan Landry

PAIRING: Ethan Landry x fem! Reader

RATING: SFW

TAGS: @kittiescrownedsoul, @zspen, @h34rtsformilli

WRITING STYLE: One-shot

POV: 2nd person

REMINDER: Do NOT transfer, translate, modify, copy or steal my work!

CW: Murder, attempted murder, stabbing, attacking, shouting/screaming, usage of a knife, blood/bleeding

°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎��˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚°꒰☁︎ଓ˚

Ethan thought you hated him, did you? You were also so quiet towards him, distant, scared, sad...was it his fault? Did he do something wrong? If so, what was it? His actions, thoughts, looks? How can he make you feel better?

It wasn't him. You were just...scared. After Rylie, your first boyfriend, you've been scared to get too attached to Ethan, but you did. Now, you'd have to stay distant, but you didn't want the same thing happening to Ethan, no...you wanted him to live, and thrive, to not face what Rylie did.

You could've told him. Oh, how much you wanted too, but you also clamped up around Ethan, flashbacks from Rylie, tears in your eyes, heart both pacing and dropping. You couldn't go through with it.

Until, the night where you, Ethan, Tara, and everyone else were attacked by Ghostface, after he 'killed' Quinn.

"God, say something more positive!" Anika cried out, making Ghostface charge right at her. She screamed and hit Ghostface by his shoulders, while he just held her down.

"Get off of her!" Ethan bashed a vase over Ghostface's head, making him fly off of Anika. Ghostface caught himself before swiftly turning towards Ethan, lifting his knife. "No, no, no, no..." You mumbled.

"No!" Ethan barley had no time to react before you crashed into Ethan, making him fall and hit his knee on the floor. Ghostface target changed from Ethan to you without his knowledge or consent.

Ghostface stabbed you in the stomach, but paused when he realized his knife wasn't in Ethan, but...you.

Ethan stared in horror at the sight before his eyes. This wasn't supposed to happen. None of this was.

Sam threw a lamp at the back of Ghostface head. He stumbled to the left of you. Mindy used her foot to kick him to the side. You screamed in pain when his knife was forced out of you.

Ethan grabbed and hugged your body, pulling you away from the scene when Ghostface was occupied with Anika, Sam, and Mindy. Ghostface hadn't noticed you both escaped from the crime scene either.

Ethan sets you down once you both made it out of the apartment and was far enough for harm to take a while to set, with tears streaming down his face.

You coughed harsh, spitting up blood, as black took over your vision. "Hey, hey...[Name?], [Name?!]" Ethan shook you. "Goddammit, stay with me! [Name!], please!"

ಇ.ꕤಇ.ಇ.ꕤಇ.ಇ.ꕤಇ.ಇ.ꕤಇ.

Police sirens buzzed your ears, setting your brain in alert. You slowly opened your eyes, scanning your surroundings. Ethan was sobbing, hovering over you. "Ethan...?"

He lifted his head in surprise, sighing in relief and smiling when he saw you awake. "You're alive...!" You lazily smiled back. His smile dropped just a few seconds after.

"Why...why did you do do that, dont you ha hate me...?" Your eyes widened, and you shook your head. "No, no...Ethan, I dont hate you. I never did hate you..." Ethan stared at you, a perplexed look on his face. "You were so...distant..." He sobbed. "I know, i know...I...I didn't want to get attached to you because i was scared you were going to die or get hurt like Rylie did..." Ethan's mouth was now slightly agape. That was the reason...?

"But I...I ended up falling in love with you, and I dont regret it..." You smiled and chuckled, in pain. "I was going to tell you, that I was scared something was going to happen to you, and thats why i was so...on edge," you coughed, tasting the bitter blood. "I never meant to make it seem like i hated you, Ethan. I love you..." Ethan sniffled and softly hugged you.

"I love you too..." He whispered. He raised his hand and flicked your forehead, as you hissed in pain. "Ow, what was that for?!" You huffed. "you could've died!" You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

Ethan gently ran his thumb over the stinging spot he flicked, he then swooped down and placed a small kiss on your forehead. You smiled.

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bylertruther · 1 year

Note

Hello hai I’m messaging you because you seem knowledgeable about the fanfic sphere and also seem to be one of the few people that actually understand Will and stuff so I was wondering if you have any fic recs that characterize him well. Obviously ur a byler person so stuff like that but if you have any others you think are good (like Will interacting with Jonathan or something) that would also be cool. Don’t answer if you don’t want to but if you do it would be much appreciated <3

ooooh, fun! i love talking about fan fiction, so thank you for giving me the opportunity to gush. :) i haven't read everything out there, but i'll try my best to share what i have come across. i'm very sick right now so i'm most definitely leaving authors out, but here are some that i found myself really enjoying and that resonated with me:

anything by wiseatom and boygirl. their will always reads as really balanced to me, and that same gentleness and whimsy that will has and represents in canon is threaded through and highlighted in their works in such a fantastic, reverent way. they allow will to be as he is, to exist in his every shade, and it's so lovely to read. i always come away from their works feeling like they really love him and don't want or need him to be anyone other than who he is.

belonging to your dreams. it's a series featuring richie and will! the first part focuses on their friendship, and the second part is an in-progress season four continuation that is admittedly more of an ensemble piece, but the will scenes are still fantastic. honestly, this feels like the biggest love letter to will byers ever. they don't make him out to be anyone that he isn't and they really capture his values in such a lovely way. it has so much heart and so much love—for the source material, for will, and for those that see themselves in him. i post screenshots from these fics all the time and reread them over and over again, because they just make me so happy and fill me with so much love for him lol.

anything by byliever. they write married adult byler with kids and i really, really enjoy it! i feel that their writing and characterization is really unique in this fandom—it provides a perspective that i've yet to see in any other works. it feels really true to character, too, and i love the depth they've given them. so, so, so much love in their writing.

anything by pseudologia. it's unfortunately rare to see people break out of that "hyper-repressed will (re: everything, but especially his sexuality)" characterization that's common in all types of fandom works, and this author's work feels like one of the most accurate representations of what an older will could be like. it just feels like a natural progression for him and the journey that he's on now in the show, and i'm so glad that someone sees the vision, too. their will sounds like will, thinks like will, and has little details that i love and personally agree with. another really balanced portrayal, i feel—he's allowed to be so many things and it all just feels so natural and so human.

be the boy. it's mostly mike pov, but my god... it's just so beautiful, fun, and full of love and life. i reread it while grabbing the link and i got all emotional again. it's just... beautiful. that's the only word i can think to describe it. they capture his essence so wonderfully in this lighthearted context—that unwillingness to love anything other than what he loves with his entire heart and his commitment to that, that mischievousness and razor-sharp awareness that he has, his capacity for mercy and hope, the strength that he draws from mike and his love for him—and it really pulls at your heartstrings. the ending scene is perfection. the jonwill is jonwilling. the willel is willeling. a feel-good fic for sure.

an ode to hope (and other funny things). i think about this fic whenever i eat ziti now <3 hehe. yet another fic that i felt captured will's heart, his hope, his love, and his merciful nature so, so beautifully, and with such care, too. it's such a treat to read and it leaves you feeling held.

The Breath That Passed From You To Me. mermaid!will au, who cheered? another author that you can tell really loves will. beautiful world- and character-building. this author captures will perfectly in every single way, i feel. he's brave, sincere, loving, and adaptable. he's just... will. their writing is so dear to me. a must read for sure.

anything by smoosnoom (moonsooms). they're well-known for a reason! i particularly love that they're not afraid to shine a light on and bring out every side of the characters they write about. their characters and the stories they tell are always very human, very layered, and treated with such care.

blackdeathmamba you will always be famous! another fantastic writer with such vision, such creativity, and so much heart. their characters are layered, complex, and so human-like.

I'll Be Waiting, Time After Time. the byler fluff of all time to ever and that will ever. so good, so sweet, and so full of love. will's reactions are so very will and i love his relationships with everyone else here.

Wrathful Wishing Star and Poisoned Apple Tree. a tribute!will x victor!mike hunger games au! so riveting and so beautiful. fantastic writing, world-meshing, and characterization. will is so balanced here, too. he's tenderhearted, brave, strong, scared, smart, determined, loving, sweet, and so much more. this fic really doesn't get the attention it deserves, i feel!

anything by lilacline! oh... my god. whatever i say won't be enough. if you haven't read lilac's work, then don't even look at me. literally click away right now and get to reading! chop chop! seriously just fucking superb all around in every way. no words can do it justice—it's just something you feel. even when will is a bat, he's still will. i just. no words! only an immense sense of love for their writing!

it goes without saying that this is not an all-encompassing list! i've only read a small fraction of all that's out there, and i'm relying on sick-brain memory right now to boot, too.

also, as flattered as i am, i want to reiterate that the king understanders and knowers are ultimately the duffers themselves. these are just the works that i, personally, felt captured will's canon essence in such a brilliant and scratched-an-itch-in-my-brain way that i came away from them feeling... changed? they touched something in my heart in a way that i struggle to put into words (clearly).

anyway, i hope there's something in here that's new to you and that you'll like. happy reading! 💙💛

#fic #long post #if someone isn't on here that isn't an indictment of any kind - i'm just some guy that's only read and remembers so much 😳#also wanted to mostly list people and fics that don't typically get listed :)

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lyon-amore · 1 year

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What if...? Duskwood Chapter 37

Chapter 36 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Macie POV*

I feel like a fool for getting so angry and nervous. But at the same time, the guilt of not having been paying attention drags me down. The more I talked to Thomas, the more I calmed down. He loves Hannah very much and fears that she is dead. Like Richy. He's freaking out every time we find out something else, powerless not to do something. I read the chat I've had with him.

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

Thomas Hanna is dead. And so is Richy The others are just trying to ignore all the facts. And I’ve really tried But I can’t I just can’t do it anymore

Macie Thomas, listen to me Amy was found, but Hannah wasn’t This is a relatively good sign ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I try to believe the words I have sent him. I want to believe that Hannah is alive because of Jake and Lilly. Everything else doesn't matter to me. The matter with Jennifer has nothing to do with what I'm investigating, that's what the police will take care of when this is all over.

Thomas hates being in the house hiding and not being able to do anything. I know. I understand. I hated that I couldn't do anything for Jake when he wasn't around, and even though the I Am Jake article and photo worked, I felt like I didn't really do anything. Just hide behind words. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thomas Macie? If you were Hannah If you had done something so horrible in your past Would you have told your partner? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I keep reading the question. I don't think I've ever done anything wrong… I think… I don't want to blame myself for that. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Macie Yes I think I would And I would expect the same from my partner ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I watch Jake fixing access to the phone. He told me the truth. He told me that the government is persecuting him for getting into things where he shouldn't. Since then, I think that confidence in both has been improving.

I put my hand to my neck, but this time I don't think about the kidnapper, but about Jake, at bath time. Little by little we are getting closer, but... It seems that fate always interrupts us when we are about to get closer or I get nervous when he jokes. Will we ever break that barrier? "You are more calm?" He asks me from the computer. "Yes... I'm better... Sorry..." “Do not apologize, Macie” I hear him sigh “, I know I pushed you pressure on the phone, I am sorry." Well, at least he always ends up apologizing when he knows he makes mistakes. But I also know that this phone is important to communicate with the kidnapper. Without him, I cannot write to him. It is the only way to try to reason.

I get a message from the group and smile. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cleo Right Dan and I are finally arrive

Macie Then you’re all there no

Cleo Yes 🙂

Dan What’s the stich? You got a free in bed or something?

Macie Haven't you been in bed long enough?

Dan I’ll give you that one ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Before arriving, they had taken a detour at the accident area. Dan's idea. The poor thing for having been in bed all this time that he had not been able to help us much. I can partly understand it, it's a bit boring to do nothing and be wanting.

Cleo has told me that she suspect that they have not kicked him out of the hospital already, but that he has left on his own and it would not surprise me at all, knowing how I have known Dan, I see him very capable of having done it. He would have to be doing rehabilitation to walk again. He's going to give me a nervous breakdown with this whole group at this rate.

I sit up in bed and look out the window. Night is starting to fall. The sun is already hiding. I let out a long, exaggerated melodramatic sigh. "It's been a long day, right?" I tell Jake. “I agree with you” he admits without looking up “even though it is ranked number two on the long-day list." "So there's a first." “Depending on how it ends, it will still be number two." He sounds very tired… I wish I could do something for him. I'm going to the forum again. I don't know how many posts I've read and commented on today but I think I've broken my record to my teenager ages. "Macie?" I look up when I hear him call me "I have done it" I get up from the bed, approaching him ". We have access to Hannah's cell phone again." “Good, that means I don't have to strangle Thomas.” I say as I hug him from behind, stroking his hair lovingly. "No, I suppose you can spare his life." he answers with a laugh. I roll my eyes, laughing too. I get a text and see it's Lilly. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lilly Hi Macie I saw you were online I'm not interrupting you two anyway, am I?

Macie Mmm… I don't know I don't know….😜

Lilly 🤭

Macie No, don’t worry

Lilly I don't want to keep you But we’ve just lit the fire and Thomas just went to get his guitar So I wanted to give you two a heads-op so that you’ll be on your phone 🙂

Macie Thanks for letting us know, Lilly. That’s something we are not going to miss for the world 😁

Lilly Haha, right 🙂 I thought you two could do a with a bit of a distraction, too Like all of us Ok. I'll call you 🤭 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I just read through Hannah's browsing history.” He moves to invite me to sit down and I do. Can I say without a doubt that I never need another seat in my entire life? Sitting on top of him is enough for me. "I already did that too." I smiled at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He smiles proudly at me. Ah… It's good that it is for me… “One of the last pages Hannah visited was that of the Pine Glade festival.” He brings up the website, and I pay attention "Michael Hanson mentioned it in connection with his daughter disappearance." "Yes, I remember" I answered, remembering the audio with Alan "The Aurora was packed because of the festival, that’s why he had no time for Jennifer…” I drawl out slowly, until I remember why I was really here. Because of work. For the article. But not only that. It was something more important "Jake, that festival is tomorrow!" I see you frown, thinking. “I think you should ask the others about the Pine Glade festival” he commands me with a new task ", and the one ten years ago, to be exact." "Nobody will remember" I commented a little doubtfully ". Who knows how everyone was that day ten years ago..." "I sincerely hope not, but for trying" He brushes my hair back from my face, stroking me carefully ", and even if they remember only fragments, we must understand how this accident came to pass, and I believe that Hannah was probably at the festival with one of your friends." "Yeah, I think so too..." Lilly's video call interrupts us and I look at Jake, smiling. "Access my phone from the computer." I tell him excitedly. "Why?" What is happening? "Just do it, I promise to watch from my phone so they don't see you." He looks at me a little doubtfully, but he does. I accept the video call and the first thing I see is Thomas playing the guitar. The fire from the bonfire is like going through the screen, I can feel the heat. I smile when I see the quiet group and my gaze accidentally drifts to the computer, to see it much better. Jessy seems intent on listening to the guitar music, her eyes closed. Cleo seems to be thinking, surely Hannah and her mother, she had to leave Duskwood to protect herself. Then there's Dan, in his wheelchair drinking whiskey. I have to have a serious talk with him when I can, I'm quite worried about his health. But there they are all together... Protected... Calm...

I sigh when Thomas finishes and the video call hangs up. “Well then.” I hear Jake say. "Well, I like it." I commented, placing my head on his chest. I look up and see that he smiles. It's finally a relaxed moment for us too. "Let's give them a little more time to rest" I commented, not wanting to rush them by still asking about the festival "Just a little bit…" "Alright." “Which means” I rise from him, grinning “we deserve it too." He looks at me without much desire. "Come on Jake, you've been busy getting Hannah's phone back and I almost killed Thomas" he laughs and I continues "so we're going to have our own proper break, too." "Alright" I see that he puts on an interested look "And what is your plan?" “Let's dance” he rolls his eyes and I turn around to prepare one of my playlists "and I won't take no for an answer." When I turn to see him, I find him already standing before me, offering me his hand. I look at him shyly, I thought it was going to cost me, but no. What a surprise. I accept his hand and place the other on his shoulder, while he places one on my waist. We move slowly while Ed Sheeran's 'How do you feel' starts playing in the background. The atmosphere could not be more romantic. "You really would like to be with them right now, would you not?" He asks me slowly "I have seen it on your face." I make a face doubting whether to answer or not. But I can't fool you. "Yes, I’d like that a lot." I say a little sadly "I want to protect them." "They will be far from Duskwood, don't worry." "Wouldn't you like to be there too?" I ask at the same time that he makes me spin on the spot. I thought that he didn't know how to dance and that's why he had pouted. I wonder who taught him. “I think would feel incredibly out of place." "But you wouldn't be" I reach out to him, trying to wrap my arms around his neck, though I manage to grab my hands. But it's okay, because we're pretty close together "You’d be exactly where you belong" I whisper, looking into his eyes, little by little it's hard for me to breathe ", with them... With me..." Jake eases his hand down my face, up to my lips, resting his thumb under them. He fixes his eyes on mine, intense. He leans in slowly as he also tilts my chin up, our lips brushing against each other. "You give me the feeling of belonging somewhere for the first time in my life..." I don't know which of the two takes the step. I don't know if he or me. But finally our lips meet. It's a slow kiss, one of those you see in the movies and you don't want them to ever stop, because it was what you most expected to see. I try not to be clumsy, because I don't even remember how to kiss, I let him guide me a bit, although… I also notice him nervous.

In the end, we managed to calm our nerves and I even ran my hands through his hair, making sounds of satisfaction as I felt his tongue play with mine. Jake runs his hands down my back, down to below my waist. He pulls me so close to him that it's like I'm going to melt into his body.

There comes a time when we need air and with a little sadness we separate a little. I can see it in his eyes. The desire. Will he see them in mine too? As if he understood me, I nod and slowly we approach the bed. He takes his hands to my blouse and begins to unbutton it and while I unbutton his pants. We later exchanged the task, until we were exposed. He stares at me, running his hand over my shoulder. "Please…" I say, in a pleading voice "Please don't stop now…" “I wanted to completely admire you” he answers, slowly starting to lay me down on the bed ", I have never been with an angel." He takes my breath away listening to him speak. I don't hesitate to kiss him again, hugging him against my body.

It has been even better than in my dreams. Jake's hands have traveled all over my body, leaving no place without being caressed. And now I can say with more certainty that he is good with his hands. But it's not just that, it was because of the affection that he treated me, although his eyes looked hungry, he was as careful as possible, even when he left kisses on my neck, telling me that he was going to make me forget about the pain. Sometimes I even begged him to kiss me, I envy my body, it was being kissed by him, but my lips wanted another kiss. Another kiss that silenced my moans. Ah… He really knew how to handle the situation. Had he also dreamed of this? Had he wanted it too? I think from the way he pronounced my name, he seemed like he had been doing it all his life. Or so I wanted to believe.

I had finally felt contact with his skin. My hands had run up his back, I was lucky I have short fingernails or he would be marked by me from how tightly I gripped to him.

The music plays all over the room, it's romantic, slow. It's the perfect environment right now. I admire him as I lie on top of him and his hand slowly caresses my back. I can't stop smiling, I think I already know how it feels when you do things with love. "What are you thinking about?" He asks me, giving me a smile. "That I don't want tonight to end." I answered, approaching him a little more up to get to his face "And you?" I ask, tracing circles on his body. "That you are better than the government and everyone who is after me." he says with a laugh. "Why?" "Because you were the only one to catch me." I kissed him intensely after hearing his words. Jake tries to pull me closer to him, as if that's possible. There was not a gap between us. We were finally where we wanted. Together. If all the breaks we are going to have are like this, I think I will want to work a lot more to have this reward.

My phone rings and I complain. I didn't want the job so soon. "They claim you." he whispers into my lips. "They can wait." I replied, giving him little kisses. "Maybe it is about the case." I grumbled. He's right. It can be important. I sit up getting out of bed, then I fall into something for a moment. "Did you do it to see me standing up and naked?" I ask curiously. "No, I swear." He replies, sitting up on the bed. I frown, approaching him with the phone, seeing how he now smiles mischievously. I sit on top of him, kissing him again before seeing the message. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dan What’s up honey ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"It's Dan." I replied, resting my head on his chest. I listen as Jake grumbles, reading it. "Hey, I am going to take a shower, can you watch the computer?" He asks me, pointing "And so you talk a little with your friend." I hear how he drags the word and I laugh. "Okay, as soon as I'm done, I'll go." I replied, letting her get up. "Do not let him entertain you too much." I see his back as he picks up new clothes. The famous tattoo I can finally see it completely. I bite my lip when I see him. It's much better than I imagined. “Stop looking at me like that.” he tells me, even though his back is turned. "It's not my fault you're so sexy." I tell him, sitting up on my knees in bed. Jake leans in and kisses me, caressing my body slowly. "Do not be long..." he whispered. "I won't…" He separates from me going to the bathroom and I admiring him. I grabbed his sweatshirt from the floor and put it on to cover me while I got cold, sitting in the chair to talk to Dan. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Macie That’s Macie to you

Dan You have taken a long time to answer Where were you? In the bathroom? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

<<No, with the sexiest guy in the world.>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Macie Doing some exercise to defeat the man without a face 😜

Dan Haha, very good that one! Aren’t we in a merry mood today You have no idea how good it is to finally by out of that hellhole of hospital

Macie I think ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He hands me a picture of him with his Wishkey glass in hand. Well, despite everything, I'm glad he's okay… But I'm mad at him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Macie So, what’s up with that fancy new wheelchair you’ve got?

Dan Don’t know what you mean ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I pass him the proof that Cleo sent me. He's not going to get away from this. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dan Hahaha Do you like it?

Macie But that’s just temporary, right?

Dan Yeah ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I try to get him to confess that he had left the hospital. What was he thinking? He still had a little more to recover, it was okay to wait a bit. At least in the hospital he was safe. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Macie Why would you do this?!

Dan You’re one to talk I’d have expected you to be here before me Because you are in Duskwood And you're all alone You aren’t the one who should be angry with me, but the other way around

Macie Hey! Don't give it back to me! Unfortunately mine is for work I have to get up early But I accept your concern, Dan, even though I'm fine.

Dan How not to worry, little detective If it had been you instead of me You would have done the same

Macie Maybe, who knows Probably 😒 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Maybe if Jake and I hadn't met here, I probably would have gone with them. I knew that at the moment he can't show himself to more people, too risky. Only three people know what Jake looks like: Hannah, Lilly, and me. The people closest to him at the moment. And it's risky enough for him to do it. It will always be so.

Dan hands me a photo of the girls and Thomas, talking quietly by the campfire, though Thomas seems a little more lost in thought of him. Thinking about our conversation for sure. In Hannah. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Macie So it's about protecting others? I warn you, if anything happens to you...

Dan Then what?

Macie Then I'll personally make sure you never leave that wheelchair again

Dan Oh my I’m much more afraid of you than of that raven dude. Totally If that feathered freak really comes here Then I’m the only one who’d have the guts to do anything And you know it And I owe it to Richy ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I massage my temple. Unbelievable… Dan was risking perhaps losing his life a second time. And by the least indicated person. Still, he's an incredibly cool guy, I have to admit. When he doesn't go stupid and open up, you can clearly see that he's not like everyone else thinks too. I don't know, I think of him as the older brother of the group. I welcome him to the group of detectives and he laughs.

We received a group message, Cleo wants a meeting with everyone.

I wait for the news when I get a message from Hannah's phone. There was a connection again and I was already starting to ask myself when he would text me again. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unknown Do you remember what I told you on the phone? I'm coming, Macie And I am going to kill them all

Hannah I won't let you I really feel sorry for you I understand you At least I’m trying to understand you It’s been ten long years You saw no other way of finding peace Give up and tell me where you are ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I bite my nail, nervous. Hoping my words work. He don't have to go through with this. Just that everything comes out honestly. It will make his situation worse if he continues like this, he won't look any better than Hannah.

I get the messages. Messages that scare me to read. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unknown I set a trap for you And you didn’t even realized *Jake POV*

I did not think I would break the rule I set for myself about not involving my feelings towards someone when I had to leave home. I was alone for four years. No friends, no family, no co-workers… No one. Me and my mental conversations. Changing places every month. There was nothing I cared about and I didn't have to worry about anyone but myself.

Well, that day I met her, the days I spent with her, that rule was breaking more and more and the barrier that I imposed on me became thinner.

Tonight I have forgotten all the rules written in my head to feel Macie in my arms. I have forgotten why I am really here or what I had done in the past to end up losing everything. Because she has made me feel that I do not need anything more than her to be complete.

I have loved every part of her and I have not been able to restrain myself from whispering her name on some occasions or kissing her neck so as not to leave any trace of what that man did to her. Now only the traces of kisses that I had left her remained. There is nothing about her that I have forgotten to caress or kiss.

Macie is taking a while to come to the bathroom, could something have happened to the group? Has something happened to Lilly? I finished showering and I grab the towel, wrapping it around my waist. When I come out, I see her sitting on the chair with my sweatshirt on. It's quite big on her... I do not know if I will want to wash it now that she is wearing her scent. "Is everything alright, Macie?" I ask concerned "You took a long time." "Yes, sorry, the talk with Dan has been extended." I lean towards her and kiss her. Every time I do it, my mind does not think of anything other than making her mine again... Does that sound bad? I do not want to sound possessive, but I can not stop thinking about something else right now. "Now I'm the one asking you if you're okay." She tells me with a laugh. "I was… thinking." "Oh yeah?" Macie stands up, playing with my towel. She is tempting me too much "in what?" "I'm sure you already know that." I whispered, starting to slowly pull the sweatshirt up. We are going to kiss again and her cell phone rings. I see on the screen that it is a video call with Lilly. Just in case, I back off a bit. “Hello Lilly.” Macie says, sitting up on the bed. I sit next to her, watching closely. "Hi Macie." I see her looking everywhere "Are you “busy”?" "It depends on the definition." she replies, looking at me with tempting eyes. I try not to get nervous, because on top of that, it is my sister she is talking to. Now I do not know if I prefer that they get along like before so as not to go through this or that they be friends so that I do not have to worry about the situation of splitting myself in two. "Well, I'm sorry to spoil your moment" she sighs, genuinely annoyed for interrupting us. "In case you didn’t see it in the group chat, Cleo just ask us to come in to discuss something.” She focuses on the ground for a second "I thought that you shouldn't be excluded and that's why I called you." She walks into the house and we see Cleo and Thomas sitting up and Dan in the wheelchair. A 'What going in?' had been heard in the distance. Jessica. "Guys, I called Macie too" Lilly announces "she's also part of the group and she's probably interested it." I see that she turns the cell phone around for them to greet her. “Hello Macie” Cleo says “. I'm glad Lilly brought you over too." "I never miss a party, even if it's virtually." she replies, in an amused tone. I avoid laughing so they won't hear me. "Well, this party is over" Cleo looks angry, her arms crossed. I do not like this ". Sit down” she tells him, looking at Jessica ". So I was actually looking for a lighter, but instead, I found this." She turns a little and takes out a gun naturally, leaving it on the table. I watch Macie look worriedly at the gun. Jessica gets up scared and Dan adjusts his glasses to see the gun. "What the f-" Jessy has a terrified look on her face. "Is this a real one?" Thomas asks, in a tone of genuine surprise. “Yep.” Dan picks up the gun for a second and puts it down again. "Well? Whose is it?" Cleo asks, pointing at it. “Definitely not mine.” Jessica replies. Macie seems to scan their faces, looking for the person who had taken it. Some reaction. Dan is completely calm and Thomas shakes his hands.

In the background we begin to hear the slight sound of a cell phone. "You hear that?" Jessica asks, looking at them all. "It's coming from the hallway." One by one they begin to move away from the table, except for Dan who does it slowly because of his wheelchair. “Hannah's phone.” Thomas says. He is the first to enter the room and turn on the light. He could hear the phone much more closely thanks to Lilly. "A call..." Jessica goes over to the phone to see who she is and she looks at them confused. "No number." she says, not knowing what to do. “Pick it up.” Cleo orders. Frightened, Jessica accepts the call. "Hello?" "I know where you are now!" A distorted voice sounds through the other line "You were too confident, but you fell into my trap." "What?" I see Macie's face, expression completely changing. She was beginning to be afraid for her friends. I go straight to the computer, to see how he could possibly know where they are now. "I'm coming now" I hear Michael's words clenching my teeth angrily ", and then I am going to end this." "What the-" I hear Jessica say, after that a scream. "Guys?!" Macie yells. I move away from the computer to get closer to her. "What's going on?" I ask nervously. "I-I don't know! The lights!" "Stay on the cell phone." I commanded as I returned to the computer, to find out why he knew where they were.

According to the data, it seemed that the cell phone's GPS was the cause of the location. Shit, it was my fault, I should have paid attention. I try to see what other things they could also have located and I read some messages. Macie had talked to Michael. And she hadn't told me. I look at her and she seems more relieved looking at the phone screen.

Why have she been keeping these messages from Michael from me?

Chapter 38

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfic #duskwood everbyte #everbyte studio

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