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denwritesandcries · 4 months

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Call me Yours – Natalie Scatorccio

Pairing: natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

Summary: You’re in a closet with Natalie Scatorccio. How ironic.

Word count: 2,3k.

Content: NSFW, no crash!AU, cursing, arguing, jealousy, makeout session, thigh riding, slightly toxic behavior?? but it wouldn't be a yellowjacket relationship if it weren't just a little.

A/N: Is it a secret relationship?? Friends with benefits??? I don't know man but they’re horny.

English is not my first language.

You're in a closet with Natalie Scatorccio.

There is a party going on outside, students filling the rooms of Lottie's house with loud generic music playing in the background, but the small room you two were locked in remained silent, too silent.

“See ya’ in 7 minutes, ladies!” Van's mocking voice cuts through the air, but a knife could have done the same; the blonde snorts and you roll your eyes, fixing your gaze somewhere in the darkness so you don't have to face her.

“Ugh, how old does she think we are?” Natalie hisses, you can feel her eyes on your face, even though you can't see much more than the outline of her body at the moment.

You say nothing, arms crossed over your chest and a frown covering your face, Nat tries again:

“I didn’t even want to come to this stupid party.”

“I get it,” you bite, just because you know her well enough to guess that she won’t stop complaining until she gets something out of you, “I get that you don’t want to be here, Natalie.”

She must finally realize how mad you are – mad at her – at the sound of her full name instead of the nickname that always seemed to be on the tip of your tongue, because you swear you can hear her teeth chattering when she shuts her mouth.

With a growl of frustration, you let your head hit the wall with a thud. Great, your night was already being shit, the last thing you needed was to end up playing 7 minutes in heaven with the person who was the cause of your bad mood. Simply amazing.

You see, Natalie had been acting weird for days now, randomly avoiding your company and acting like she didn't know you in the school hallways and being really rude to you during practice. Now, this might even be normal and acceptable behavior from the quiet blonde if you were anyone else, but you weren't. You are her girlfriend.

Are? Were? You don't know for sure anymore given the way she's been acting lately.

Maybe it wouldn't have made you so angry – confused? Yes. Sad? Definitely, but not angry like that – if it weren't for today, for the party.

You had planned to meet Nat at Lottie's party and corner her to finally make her explain what the hell is wrong, dammit, because one afternoon you're smoking with your girlfriend and friends quietly in the basement and the next she's throwing you daggers with her glance every time you open your mouth around her. Anyway, that's what you were going to do, until you found her in the Matthews' giant kitchen leaning against the counter with a cup of beer in her hand and Kevyn Tan practically throwing himself at her, keeping an arm full of spike bracelets wrapped around her shoulders and face with heavy makeup too close to hers to be considered friendly, drooling for Nat like he's always done since you've known about his existence.

Now that really pissed you off.

Who does that sad, emo, pitiful boy think he is to touch your girlfriend like that? And why is she letting him?

You think she could feel you fuming as you stared at them from the door, because the next second she lifted her head and looked at you like a deer caught in the headlights, as if she knew exactly that she was doing something she shouldn't have.

Screw it, you thought, if she'd rather act like you didn't matter anymore, then fine. You won't be standing just watching.

You turned around and only managed to disappear around the house for the next half hour before Taissa appeared with a tired frown and practically dragged you to where the group had gathered with an empty bottle, because Van and Jackie wanted to play something – 'If I'm in this, then you’re too!’ – and well, fuck.

You two have been completely quiet for almost a whole minute and that it's eating you alive; Nat has always handled silence well, you haven't.

Fidgeting with the hem of your own shirt angrily, you huff and give up on the tough act, the blonde straightens up when she hears your footsteps approaching her.

"What is happening?" Your voice comes out in a shamefully desperate tone, “Why are you acting like this with me? What did I do?"

You can see her now, being so close and now used to the dark; her fists are clenched, Natalie keeps her eyes fixed on your figure. For a moment, you think she's going to keep her cold facade and avoid your question with some sarcastic response, she most likely considered it, from the way her mouth opens and closes for a quick moment.

She turns her face to the side, trying to hide, but you can see the difference in tone in the paleness of her skin anyway. Oh, she's embarrassed.

“Nat?”

She mumbles something you don't understand, then your curiosity gives way to the anger and your hands find her face, turning it so Natalie is looking at you.

"What was this?" You ask again, softly this time.

“You called me your girlfriend.” She spits it out fast as if it were just a single sentence, rolling her eyes at your confused face, “You called me your girlfriend to everyone when we were smoking after practice last week.”

Oh, you remember that, when Jackie decided to lecture you all about the smell of smoke that lingered on her clothes after she and Shauna decided to tag along on one of your hangouts with Lottie, Van and Tai, turning up her nose and talking about how you all – and especially Nat – should stop with this habit. ‘Jackie, stop bothering my girlfriend!’, that’s what you said. Is that what made you spend a whole week grounded in the doghouse?

“...And isn’t that what we are?” You try, unsure. This conversation is not taking a very pleasant turn toward a reconciliation.

Nat bites hard her bottom lip, you can see her struggling with the next words:

“It’s just… no one was supposed to know.”

“Oh,” you mutter pathetically, sounding very much like a wounded puppy, “So that’s the problem.”

You're in a closet with Natalie Scatorccio. How ironic.

You can tell she regrets it the moment she says it, grabbing your hands in hers as you pull away.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I– I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How did you meant that then?” Your initial anger and frustration return with a vengeance, you move forward until Nat's back hits a shelf in the small room.

Natalie always does this. Avoid anything that labels your relationship as real; calling your dates ‘hangouts’, not touching you when there are people around, leaving your house before you wake up in the morning, avoiding kisses and caresses that don't initiate anything sexual, calling you ‘friend’ when you can see that the whole team knows this is not all you two are.

Still, – still – she always shows up at your house when she's upset; she doesn't like it when you miss your 'hangouts'; always stays close to you wherever you are together; gets mad when she sees you talking to other girls, even if they are nothing more than classmates; leaves marks all over your body, but doesn't let you do the same, spots and more spots all over your neck that are impossible to cover. People know that you're dating, they just don't know that you're dating Natalie.

And then she gets mad at you for finally putting a name to whatever this is and starts avoiding you completely, even though it's been months since it all started and you've known each other for years.

Nat gasps when your hands find her waist with a firm grip, bringing your lips closer to her ear:

“I’m gonna make you want me to be your girlfriend.”

You swear you feel the shiver that runs through her body. Nat smells like cigarettes and mint gum and it tastes the same when your mouth meets hers.

Her arms are around your neck before she's even processed what's happening, black painted nails playing with the hair on the back of your neck like it's second nature – and it is.

The way Natalie tilts her head to deepen the kiss and bites your lip hard when your hands come up to caress the skin under her shirt says your actions are much appreciated.

The husky, needy moan that escapes your throat when you realize she's braless, palming and massaging her soft skin brings a cocky smile to her face, she sighs, breaking the kiss and letting her head fall back against the shelf in satisfaction.

Nat doesn't moan, not like you do. She seems to want to hold back as much as possible, taking all kinds of reactions from you and your body, but not giving the pleasure of having the same from her. You want to change this.

You let your mouth roam from her strong jaw to her pale neck, leaving wet kisses, bites, and marks. Many marks. You bite the thin skin in different spots, soothing the bite with your tongue, hoping for the spots to form and stay there for days, for everyone to see.

You lazily slide a knee between her legs when you feel Natalie try to turn you around to take control. You usually let her do it, but not today. She squeals in surprise and pleasure, hips instantly grinding against you.

“Nah-ah, Nat,” you cut, bringing a hand down to slow the pace of her hips, “I guess you shouldn’t take anything today, or do you think I forgot about how much you paid attention to that little emo bastard earlier, huh?”

“You hate him that much, huh?” She tries to say in a mockery tone, wanting to turn the tables again, but it sounds pathetic as her voice breaks later in the last words.

“Yes,” you say easily, leaving a lingering kiss on her shoulder, finding her pulse point, “He was touching you. Touching my girlfriend.”

You bite down hard on the skin when Natalie turns her head to grant access and she moans, actually moans, fuck, you did it. A full sound, loud enough to make your pupils dilate until your irises almost disappear. This, this sound, you want to hear this forever.

It's been more than seven minutes, you think, or maybe our discussion was just really quick. You wonder if you would have time to take one of her breasts into your mouth, feeling the way she rolls her eyes and thrusts her hips against your thigh, now free from your hands, when you roll her nipples hard between your fingers.

She sighs as she receives another kiss from you, much softer now, more affectionate, feeling her hand tracing circles on your cheek.

A quick, loud knock on the door startles you both, making Nat jump and bang her head against one of the shelves behind her and knock something over, “Fuck!” She screams and you instinctively reach for her head to check for injuries.

You look at the source of the knock, it's definitely not Van calling, she would have opened the door at once just to laugh at your faces.

“Girls, time is over!” Jackie's voice sings on the other side.

“Ugh,” Natalie grunts, clearly frustrated at being interrupted so abruptly, she takes the opportunity to finally take a look at the closet as you head towards the door, “Is this some kind of pantry?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “Rich people have so many random rooms scattered around their houses.”

There are loud whistles and jeers as you leave, half the football team gathered in the busy room and giving you knowing looks, you give Van the finger when she points out the traces of dark lipstick on your mouth.

“Were you guys actually going to fuck in there?” She teases, arching an eyebrow with a smirk.

You open your mouth to retort – probably with something stupid – but Natalie is quicker:

“Fuck off Van, stop bothering my girlfriend.”

Van gives up the provocation, raising her arms in surrender and Nat rolls her eyes as if she hadn't said anything important, but you're absolutely frozen, listening to your heart beating rapidly against your ears.

Natalie looks back when she notices you standing still and snorts in amusement at your reaction, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you with her.

“C’mon,” she says, “Let’s go, silly, I got something to do–”

“Move!” Jackie interrupts with an anxious tone, pushing you gently by the shoulder and bouncing on her heels, “It’s our turn.”

You catch a glimpse of Shauna standing shyly behind her like a shadow being dragged to the closet and Jeff sitting on the floor with the rest of his classmates with the most confused and defeated expression you've ever seen as Nat hurriedly guides you out.

When you're about to get into her car, Natalie surprises you, grabbing your waist with her cold hands and pressing you against the door, hungry eyes fixed on your form.

“I–” you stutter nervously, “I thought we were going home?”

Natalie nods.

“We are,” she agrees, “I just have to do you first.”

Well, maybe your night won't end as bad as you thought it would.

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #nat scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio #nat yellowjackets #denwrites

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instacarma0798 · 2 months

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Title: and I'm your best friend (but your a killer)

Ship: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

[A/N this was meant to be a short one shot and then I got carried away lol)

The last thing Natasha wanted to do was bother you, not after you had done so much for her and she was always disappearing under the guise of work. Despite that, she was knocking one your door with bruised knuckles and a small duffle slung over her shoulder that felt heavier than it should.

Slowly, the door opened and she was met with your face that was pinched with worry. You furrowed your brows at her, and despite the unusual time you appeared wide awake.

"Natalia," unlike all the other times Natasha had met you, your voice curt, "What's up?" Normally you would let her in without question and have her sit down while you made tea or hot cocoa.

"I need a place to stay," her mouth managed to form.

"Look-," glancing back inside with a sigh, your fingers twisted around the door handle tightly, "I don't know if I-"

"Please, I'll be gone by morning," she cut in, her body begging to rest. There was no where to else to go for her, with SHIELD down she had no base.

SHIELD had been her base, the closet thing to home - not that she ever stung around somewhere long enough to develop a home. But all her belongings, other than a few at a couple safehouses, where gone. Her apartment on base was gone. Sam's house was most likely not undisclosed information anymore and she couldn't go with Steve, he was never good at espionage.

You pressed your lips together in thought, face more taught and worried than it had ever been.

"Fine."

The door was widened slightly to let her in and Natasha stumbled into the apartment, her legs carrying her over to flop on the couch where she usually slept. You had bought a pull out for her years ago when she continued to crash at your place time after time.

You entered the area holding a white box stamped with a white cross. Uncharacteristically silent you sat on the coffee table across from her, quietly mumbling for her to remove her shirt. Bandaging her wounds, your hands worked with an unfamiliar harshness. Whenever she came to you with wounds, you never asked questions accepting the answer from the one time where she told you she worked as a security guard.

Tugging harshly at a wound around her bicep you tore the end of the bandage off before slapping another onto her cheek. She scratched at the irritable , itchy material against her cheek, watching as you left the room for a moment.

Her eyes wandered from the hallway you retreated to towards the desk sitting in the corner of the room. Against her gut telling her not to, Natasha peeked at the open computer emitting a soft light. Pulled up in a google chrome browser were some of the files she had released, files on her. You had read the files.

In her 8 years of knowing you, Natasha never once told you about her past. She let you know her as the redhead who spilled coffee in the middle of a cafe. You had grown to know her as the woman who mysteriously showed up at your house with cuts littering her face. Her impression on you was as an adult who worked as a security guard and didn't have a family to go to.

She re-used her old name when around you. When she became an avenger, you didn't question how she looked like a female superhero on TV - it was a blessing Natasha had managed to mostly avoid the cameras.

But now you knew. You were everything she wasn't, Natasha didn't you to know about her life that was dripping with blood. Your eyes sparkled bright and smiled shimmered in contrast to her dark shadows. It was a secret she kept close to her chest, but it was out the window now.

Re-entering the room you followed her eye line to the computer, your lips twisting further downward. Natasha opened her mouth to speak in her defense, but you cut her off.

"Where you ever going to tell me? Or were you going to leave me in the dark Natalia? Or is it Natasha? Or Natalie Rushman? Nadia Vostokoff?"

Tears brimmed your eyes as you spoke, your voice cracking at the end.

"Y/N I was going to tell you, but you-" Natasha began, her voice surprisingly strong despite her stomach twisting into knots.

"I what? I was too innocent? Too oblivious? I'm not a fucking child Natalia! I deserved to know!" The clothes you had been carrying for her dropped to floor silently as you threw your hands up in frustration, "I deserved to know." your voice was quieter, a broken whisper as you repeated your statement.

For once in her life Natasha was at a loss for words. You had never acted out like this before, usually calm and quiet.

You took her stunned silence as a que to keep going, "I deserved to know my best friend had done all that," your hand flailed towards the computer, "You should have fucking told me!"

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish before she schooled her face and forced her mouth and brain to form coherent sentences, "I know."

"If you know then why didn't I?" you said.

"It never came up," Natasha shrugged, reverting back to her roots of diverting the conversation, "Can we talk about it in the morning? Please?" She gave you those wide eyes that always worked, and it seemed you knew she was manipulating you but regardless you sighed and plucked the clothes off the ground.

Crossing the room in a few short strides you dropped the clothes into her lap, the smell of your perfume flooding her nose. Without another word you stalked to your bedroom, heavy footsteps echoing with anger.

<__________>

Natasha was gone early the next morning without giving you a chance to talk to her about it. It was clear she wasn't welcome there anymore. Neatly, she had folded the clothes and set them on the counter with a note.

I'm sorry I never told you. I'll be out of your hair now.

-N.A

Her heart throbbed painfully and there was a twinge in her abdomen as she snuck out the window into the alley behind your house, the gravel crunching beneath her feet. There were only a few places she could go now. The Senate would most likely want her to give a statement, and despite that being the last thing she wanted to do, Natasha knew it would happen eventually.

Sure enough, the next when watching the news - the Senate was announcing that they wanted to know her where abouts so they could have her give a statement. Reluctantly, but hopeful for a chance to potentially clear her name, Natasha gave the stupid statement and walked off with a bang.

Tony approached her after that, pulling up outside with one of his fancy cars and acted like he was picking her up. Happy greeted her with a nod and pinched brows as he opened the door to the car. She slipped in, her heels nearly catching on the rim of the door. Sliding his classes down, Tony turned to face her with a wide grin.

"There's my favorite Russian Assassin," Natasha ignored the way her stomach churned at those words and focused on the car moving and the flashes outside, "So, I know that you need some where to go know and since I have a bunch of space leftover, you wanna stay at the tower? It'll be like old times."

Nothing ever came for free with Tony, but Natasha caught the caring glint in his eye and knew he just wanted to help. Grudging, she nodded her head - much to Tony's amusement as he grinned and slung an arm over her shoulder. She shrugged him off with a hard stare.

Life at the tower had been fine - Turns out Tony offered residence to Steve and Maria as well so they were both residing there (According to Maria she was merely working there, but Natasha had a suspicion Tony let her stay because of their minimal friendship). Bruce resided there. Natasha took one look at him, at his messy graying hair, dark eyebags and decided he would be an easy way to forget everything. Throughout that time she took up to flirting with the man. The usual enjoyment she got when she playfully flirted with you was not present when she did so with Bruce.

Over time, she kept tabs on you - watching as you moved out into the country and bought yourself a house and a truck.

Which led her to where she was now, knocking on your doorstep once more as Clint held her upright and the rest of the Avengers stood clustered behind her. Ultron did a number on them and it was reasonable Clint didn't want to bring everyone to the farmhouse. Despite not seeing you for a year, Natasha silently hoped you would help.

The door opened slowly, the movement conveying hesitance, and your tired face stared back. Dark bags half-circled your eyes and your hair was disheveled. A baggy shirt dangled off your right shoulder - which you righted once you caught sight of the group in front of you.

"Natalia?" the name was unwelcome at the time, but Natasha couldn't care to correct you, "Wha-?"

"Please, I know I said I'll be out of your hair, but we have no where else to go."

You exhale slowly, taking stock of the group before scrunching your nose and letting them in. Natasha barely missed tripping over a cat as she entered - a calico cat who bounded after you with excited meows. Scooping it up in your arms with a soft coo, you turned to face the group.

"Sorry about the mess," your eyes scanned over the group, entirely missing Natasha, "I never have anyone over so," a helpless shrug of your shoulders, "You guys can wash up upstairs, bathroom is first door the your right and there's an extra bedroom with another bathroom at the end of the hall. I'll make some dinner."

Natasha avoided you the entire time and they were gone the next morning.

<_________>

The next time she knocked on your doorstep was bruised and bloodied and with three companions. Yelena groaned behind her, the sound impatient and ready to rest.

"Sestra, is this person going to open the door or not?"

"Give her a minute Yelena, it's the middle of the night."

Eventually she knocked again, her bruised knuckles rapping against the door and a dog's bark echoing behind the door. Melina sighed impatiently behind her and Alexei let out an annoyed groan of exaggerated pain. When the rest of the group seemed ready to leave, even though Natasha knew you would answer the door (You always did), the door swung open - a dog's insistent barking still echoing through the house.

You looked worse than before with your eye bags deeper and skin paler. Sunken in cheekbones made you look like you were dying and your hair was messier than ever. Squinting your eyes you gently shoved the dog back into the house and stepped outside, closing the door.

"Natalia? What are you doing here?" your voice was scratchier than last time.

"We- um, we need a place to stay."

For a moment it looked like you would turn her away with the way your nose crinkled and eye brows pinched together with a sharp exhale. Thinking it over, you let them in with a tired sigh. Natasha took in the place, nearly the same as before aside from a few extra Monster cans littering the counter next to an open computer and dirty coffee cups lying around on a coffee table in the sitting room. You led them over there, having them all sit on the couch before flicking on a light.

"Alright," you placed your hands on your hips, a familiar sight, "I don't need to know who you are. There are two bedrooms upstairs, plus a blowup mattress in one of them, and the couch is a pullout. Split it up however you want, I don't really care. There should be some food in the fridge if your hungry," after giving them a once over once more you closed your eyes briefly and groaned, "You guys don't have a change of clothes do you? Fine, I'll be right back."

Before any of them could protest you were slipping on a pair of shoes by the door and snatching a pair of keys off the counter, the dog barking at you as you headed towards the door. Natasha caught the barest hint of a smile on your face you led the dog out the door to join you on your midnight errand.

"Who is that?" Yelena asked, her accent thick.

"....A friend," Natasha replied hesitantly, plucking at her suit, "We shouldn't stay here long."

Melina eyed her suspiciously.

"A friend?" Alexei guffawed, "Natasha she did not seem like your friend!" His loud voice echoed through the house.

"You three can have the upstairs rooms, I'll take the couch," Natasha ignored her fake father and ushered them all off the couch while she pulled out the couch. It snapped open with a pop and she found a fluffy blanket buried in a basket next to the couch.

Yelena was the only one remaining in the room, her skeptical gaze resting on Natasha.

"What Yelena?"

The blonde shrunk in on herself slightly at the harsh tone and Natasha forced herself to calm a little.

"Who is she?" she repeated her earlier question, this time with more persistence than before.

"A friend."

"Natasha, she did not seem to like you."

Natasha gave a one-shouldered shrug, aiming for indifference, but Yelena was a trained widow - trained to spot emotions even if you didn't want her to. She plopped down on the couch, her arms splayed out and peering up at Natasha with puppy-dog eyes, the one's the redhead often used on you.

"Please?"

Natasha huffed at her childish behavior, shoving Yelena off, "We had a falling out. She doesn't really like me anymore."

A thud echoed upstairs and Natasha's head snapped up before she raced up the stairs and burst into the first room. Alexei sat on the ground under Melina's patronizing stare. A cat - the same Calico as before - sat in front of them, it's back to the door. The creature meowed, inching forward towards the man on the floor who gave a shout and stood up, scrambling backwards. When Yelena entered and caught sight of the scene she burst out laughing.

"Are you scared of a котенок (cat)?" she asked teasingly, Russian accent even clearer through her amusement.

"That is a spawn of hell!" Alexei tried to defend himself.

In what Natasha assumed was an attempt to regain some of his pride Alexei aimed a small kick at the cat as it neared closer. The animal would have gotten launched into the wall had Natasha not scooped it up into her arms, ignoring the way the creature instantly burrowed into her.

"Alexei!" she screeched, "How do you think Y/N would react if you launched her cat into the wall!"

The man gave a sheepish shrug but still lifted his chin with pride. Yelena gave a shout of triumph next to her, pumping her fist into the air.

"What?"

"You gave me her name!" Yelena crowed, a bright grin on her face.

Smacking her fist on her forehead, the cat jumping out of her arms at the same time, Natasha groaned at Yelena's childish nature. She had given the blonde your name, which basically meant giving her your entire life story, but she figured Yelena would figure it out sooner or later.

You returned not soon after the cat incident, in that time Natasha had dug out Mac and Cheese from the pantry to cook for them, much to Yelena and Alexei's excitement. The cat, who she still didn't have a name for, paced around her feet, purring.

The crinkling of plastic bags alerted everyone of your return, and the sound of dog paws scrapping against the floor.

"Bosco! No! C'mon, crate!" She turned her head to see your arms full of plastic bags - Walmart bags - as you herded the dog towards a wooden crate sitting in the corner.

The dog promptly sat on it's rump, staring up at you with pleading eyes. You sighed and gave a shake of your head with a soft smile, "No, crate."

With a pitiful whine the dog turned and sulked to its crate, giving you sad eyes all the while. Once you had secured the dog you turned back into the kitchen, prompting Yelena to stop snooping through your computer and you set the bags on the counter.

"Ok," you pulled a can of monsters and some candy out of one bag before retrieving some basic groceries - milk, cheese, ham, bread, pasta - out of another, "I got you some clothes," you lobbed a bag at Alexie's head and slid another over to Melina, "Those two are for you, I wasn't sure what size Mr. Super Soldier over there needed," despite it being a joke Alexei preened at your comment, "and I took a god guess for the rest of you. Go get changed, I'll see if I can salvage Natalia's attempt at Mac and Cheese."

The redhead turned panicked towards her pot of water, it looked fine, but she had never the best at cooking. When the rest left the room Natasha hesitated, lingering in the entrance of the kitchen as you stirred the pot.

"What do you want Natalia?" turning around you leaned on the counter, arms crossed.

She wanted to know if you were ok. How you were doing. Why you looked so tired. If everything was well. What were your pet's names.

Instead she blurted, "Are you mad at me?"

You blinked owlishly at her for a moment before a sad chuckle left your throat, "Yeah, a little."

"Why?"

"Why?" you parroted, your eyebrows crinkling, "because I found out my best friend was a killer, and then when she promised to explain she left! Then you show up a year later with the Avengers, on my doorstep. Which I still have no idea how you found me. And then you don't visit at all after that before showing up with whoever those people are! Natalia I can't just be the person you come to when you need a place to hide, I have my own life!"

"Really?" she raised a brow, stepping closer, "because all I see is a broken girl. Have you seen yourself lately? You look half-dead. I wouldn't call that a life."

You scoffed, "Sorry that I'm going through some hardships right now with no one to turn to."

"Well it's not like you bothered to contact me either!" she exploded, her hands clenched into fists, "You think I didn't want to talk to you? Come here and have it be like old times where we had sleepovers that we were probably too old for?"

Both of you ignored the way the pot started bubbling over behind you, rather you took a step forward, chin tilted upwards. There was a staring contest between the two of you, a battle of wills. There had been fights between both of you before, one's that always ended like this - one's that Natasha always won.

Your lips started quivering and tears gathered in your eyes, but you held strong staring back at her defiantly. Natasha reached her hand up to brush away a tear that slid down your cheek but you slapped her hand away. Tension crackled in the air as you swallowed thickly and your bottom lips trembled more. A small sniffle escaped you and Natasha's heart broke at your obvious pain. You always hated confrontation, taking care to avoid it.

"Y/N," she reached a hand up to cup your cheek, pulling it back when you flinched.

Your head dipped down, "I have cancer Natalia," you whispered, the words nothing more than broken sounds.

Going from defiant to sad gave her whiplash but Natasha stared at you stunned, and suddenly your frail appearance made sense. The sunken in cheekbones, pale skin, shaky movements, the way your long-sleeve shirt clung to your bony arms.

"You what?"

"I have cancer," you repeated, continuing on her raised eyebrow, "breast cancer. Stage 4. Doctor didn't give me long to live."

She was at a loss for words. What were you supposed to say to someone who told you they had cancer? Once more she reached for your cheek, gently cupping it when you didn't pull away. You leaned into her touch, albeit hesitantly. Your eyes slipped closed.

Slowly Natsha leaned in, your lips millimeters from yours and she could hear your ragged breathing. She stared down her nose at your lips before gently pressing a kiss onto them. Your eyes snapped open, wide and disbelieving, but you didn't pull away - rather pressing in further. Her hands moved to your hips as she deepened the kiss. Your lips were soft, as she always had imagined, and she caught a whiff of your gentle perfume.

You pulled away first with a dopey smile on your face, "I've wanted to do that for a while."

"Me too," she whispered.

An un-lady like snort escaped you, "With the way you were looking at Banner last time?"

She twisted her lips, "Don't ruin the mood."

You let out a little laugh, the sound soft and angelic to her ears. She leaned in for another kiss and you were about to meet her halfway before a loud voice interrupted the moment.

"A friend!" Alexei exclaimed, "I see you were lying Natasha!"

You jumped away from her, much to Natasha's dismay, with a rosy blush on your pale cheeks.

"Alexei!" Natasha hissed, "Leave her be."

"Aww," Yelena cooed from behind him, her blonde hair let down and flowing past her shoulders, "Natasha has a girlfriend."

Your fiery blush was a welcome sight accompanied by your embarrassed laugh.

<__________>

Everything didn't go back to normal after that. The argument that had been going on for years was not shoved under rug. You had ended up confronting her about the next morning.

"Natali- Natasha," you fiddled with the sleeves of your shirt, "Can we talk?"

Internally Natasha cooed at your shyness before nodding and following you out the backdoor, greeted by the sound chickens.

"Look, I know that last night it might have seemed like we shoved it under the rug but I still wanted to talk about a few years ago. Because I deserved to know, y'know? And-" your voice cracked a little in the middle of your rambling as your face tilted downward, "And I was hurt. You were my best friend but it turns out you were lying to me all that time and then I had to find out through the internet. Natasha that- that hurt and-"

She placed her hands on your waist, effectively cutting you off and leaned in to give you a kiss, startled when you shoved her backwards.

"No," your voice was firm despite the small tremble in it, "You are not kissing your way out of this."

Natasha huffed, mainly frustrated at herself for reverting back to an old tactic before crossing her arms. Then uncrossing them, recrossing them, before eventually letting them drop to her side.

"Look- Y/N I wanted to tell you I did," she raised a finger at your raised eyebrow and open mouth, "No. Let me talk. I was going to tell you, but you were so...you were everything I wasn't. You were sweet and kind and caring and oh so innocent and I didn't want to ruin that. You were one of the first people to really care for me in a long while and selfishly I didn't want that to change."

"I didn't care that you had done all those things Natasha," unconsciously you pulled your arms around your waist, "I cared that you didn't trust me enough to tell me."

"I did trust you," she stepped closer, gently grabbing your hands in hers - ignoring the way you tried to pull away before taking a deep breath, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

She released one of your hands to cup your chin, gently tilting your head up. Your beautiful eyes were rimmed with tears and your bottom lip stuck out in a small pout. Tugging you towards her, you buriedyour face in Natasha's neck.

"We good now?" she whispered.

"Yeah."

Natasha held like that for a moment, awkwardly rubbing her hand up and down your back.

"You still have to explain the people in house though Natalia."

<________>

They were gone.

Wanda, Bucky - all of them. They just went poof. The News was calling it The Blip, some calling it The Decimation. Half the population of the world was gone. She stripped her suit, the thing covered in dirt, and stepped into the cold shower, letting the water run over her bruised body.

All she wanted was to wash up and return home to you. In the past years, she had taken to moving in with you - after finding Steve and Sam and freeing Wanda. You had welcomed the other's into the house as well and your place became somewhat of a home base for them. When Steve and the other's weren't there, Yelena used the place a base to house widows or as a rest stop.

Natasha took up residence permanently there and it was the best part of her life. She loved spending that quality time with you and wanted nothing more than to fly home and snuggle up with you in your bed and watch movies.

The only downside was your cancer wasn't getting any better. Natasha shivered, and not from the cold water, as she stepped out. You got worse every day put still put on a brave smile for her and gave life your all.

She glanced at her phone when a new notification popped, the message an unknown number. No one had her number aside from you, her family, and the avengers. Hesitantly she opened the message, giving it a once over. She read it again. And again. And a fourth time before dropping to her knees, a sob building in her throat.

We are sorry to inform you Ms. L/N has unfortunately passed away due to stage 5 breast cancer.

While part of her was touched that she was your emergency contact the information broke her. You were gone. You were gone and she wasn't there for you. Natasha promised she wasn't going to do as much superhero stuff, spend time with you instead, and the one time she was gone you died.

Natasha cupped her hand over her mouth when she got another message pop up, this one from a Yelena's phone.

This is Ana, a widow Yelena was planning to free. She got blipped.

The sob nearly tore it's way out of her throat as she blinked back tears. This is why she wasn't supposed to care. She wasn't supposed to love. She wasn't supposed to feel. But Natasha Romanoff learned to feel and care and love and it had broke her.

Natalia Romanova may not have cried, but Natasha Romanoff did and she had just lost nearly everyone that mattered.

#natasha romanoff #female reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #marvel #natasha romanov

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grendelsmilf · 1 year

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i still find it so interesting how jackie is (was?) largely defined by her niceness, her friendliness. she's not the strongest, or the smartest, but she can bring people together. so when she is mean to the other girls, you notice it. she's mean to taissa when she feels like her position as leader is undermined; she knows that taissa is just as much of their leader as she is and it scares her. she's mean to shauna when she finds out about jeff; understandable considering what a huge betrayal it is (at least on the surface). but the girl she is by far the meanest to is nat.

and there is no good reason why anyone should be mean to nat. she is kind of treated as a punching bag, and taissa especially resents her because she doesn't like the idea of nat threatening the team's performance with her day-drinking or whatever. but nat is by far the kindest, sweetest, most compassionate, genuine member of the team. even as an adult you can see that she might be jaded and grieving and ruthless, but she's still at her core a good person. young natalie especially though is someone with a very strong moral center and uses those guiding principles of kindness to define who she is.

she's more mature, capable, and sure of herself than the rest of the group, because before ever landing in that forest, she's had a much harder life than the rest of them. we see that van probably doesn't have the best home life, but the rest of them are living comfortably. even if they don't have great relationships with their parents, they still live in middle to upper class households. nat grew up in a trailer park with a father who horribly abused her and her mother (until the day she witnessed him accidentally shoot his own face off). these circumstances made nat more resilient, braver, and more empathetic than the other girls.

and i think jackie recognizes that, whether or not it's a conscious recognition. she knows that nat is everything she herself is not. nat is confident in herself whereas jackie is terribly insecure and relies on external validation to uphold her own identity. where nat comes from poverty, jackie grew up in a huge house. where nat is comfortable having sex with boys, jackie is too repressed to have sex with her longterm boyfriend because she's terrified of having to confront the fact that she won't actually like it. natalie expresses herself through alt/grunge fashion, music, and culture, whereas jackie is as preppy as it is physically possible to be. natalie is jackie's perfect opposite: a poor outcast who is nevertheless comfortable enough in her own (hetero)sexuality to present in a (gender) non-conforming way and not care what others think of her to jackie's rich popular prom queen soccer captain who is debilitatingly insecure and sexually repressed, conforming perfectly to society's expectations of her to the point that she'd rather die than explore the possibility that she might like girls.

jackie has negative interest in travis, but she breaks him and nat up and steals him from her anyway. and the thing is, nat doesn't even care. she forgives jackie. when lottie locks jackie in the closet (ha), nat is the one who comes to her rescue. when travis apologizes to nat for sleeping with jackie, she says it doesn't matter to her. jackie is horrible to nat, but nat is genuinely mature enough that it doesn't even bother her. jackie wears her insecurities on her sleeve, and nat sees right through her. she doesn't put up with jackie's bullshit, but she's also gracious enough to not gang up on jackie with the rest of the girls, even though she's the only one who actually has any right to be mad at her. nat is generally apart from the rest of the team, not only because she's an outcast, but because she's simply above their petty dramas.

jackie doesn't have a good reason to be mean to her. she's the kindest, sweetest girl on the team. but jackie is mean when she feels threatened, and nat's existence threatens her very identity.

#i know lottie and nat are foils #but jackie and nat are foils too!!!#the jackie lottie nat triangle #society vs mysticism vs self reliance #conformity spirituality skepticism #have i mentioned lately how much i love nat #like she's such a brilliant character #because her aesthetics are so deceiving #as misty says she looks she could stab you #but shes literally the nicest sweetest kindest person ever #maybe not adult nat but like. the only person she had left was murdered by a cult #if her grief isnt exactly pretty who are we to judge #o.tv #i know ive said smth along these exact lines before btw #but i think abt it a lot ok!#yellowjackets #100

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etherealising · 9 months

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chapter four | to burden natalie berzatto

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣ |

pairing: platonic!natalie berzatto x f!reader | slight carmen berzatto x f!reader | slight the bear crew x f!reader | male!oc x f!reader |

summary: your lack of competent decision-making after mikey’s death puts natalie in a compromisng position.

wc: 8.1k

please remeber you are responsible for your own media consumption. if any warnings trigger you DO NOT READ!

The smooth music filtered out of the record player, a rich voice singing through the house painting the atmosphere with a calm vibe. The two occupants were gathered in the living room, sifting through the last of the boxes that contained small decorations and keepsakes. Discussing what would look best where and what should have been left behind in the move.

You looked over your shoulder to check on Nat, her sudden silence cause for concern. Circling over to her you realized what had stolen the words from her lips. You maneuvered to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder at the framed photo in her hands, the two of you silently reminiscing.

You placed your head on her shoulder as she let out a quiet sniffle, her emotions heightened due to her condition. “You looked so beautiful that night,” you let out a quiet laugh before moving to stand next to Nat, eyes still focused on the framed Polaroid in her grip.

It had been a year and it still wasn’t easy to look at any pictures of Mikey without feeling like your chest would cave in. You hadn’t seen this particular picture since his passing, the grief too much, all memories painting your west coast apartment shoved into a nondescript box.

You understood now why it was so important to label your boxes when moving. If the box in front of Nat had some type of label on it, you knew for sure it already would’ve been shoved into the dark recesses of your closet.

“You can just put that one back in the box,” you left Nat’s side to continue going through your box, pulling out the book designated to sit on your coffee table.

Natalie watched you from her side of the living room, a small scowl painting her face as she watched you so easily disregard a memory that had once been so special to you. She looked back down at the picture, your bright smile staring back at her as Mikey and Richie leaned in to kiss your cheeks. A fond memory of the three of you the night of your senior prom.

Looking back at you one last time Nat let out a sigh before walking over to the mantle and setting it on the corner, visible for everyone to see. She understood how much Mikey’s death affected you, but there was no way you could heal from the hurt if you never allowed yourself to live in the uncomfortability of grief. It was something you had to want for yourself.

Nat had half the mind to keep digging through the box, eyes catching on another memory. Not wanting to sour the first night in your new home, she replaced the cover, doing her best to act as though she wasn’t curious about the box of memories.

The doorbell rang as you were looking for a place for the picture of you and your mom at your college graduation. Carefully sitting it on your coffee table you made your way to the door making sure to grab your wallet on the way. You opened the door to see the pizza delivery person standing there, giving them the money and a tip before thanking them.

“Oh that smells delicious,” you laughed as Nat followed behind you to your decent-sized kitchen. The two of you grab plates and a slice of pizza before heading to your couch.

Setting your plate on the coffee table, you left to quickly grab two wine glasses and the sparkling cider Natalie and Pete bought you as a housewarming gift. Stopping to grab a bottle of water from the fridge for Nat just in case the cider upset her stomach before taking your seat on the plush couch.

“I’m happy you’re home Baby.” Your eyes met Nat’s before you moved to pour yourself a healthy amount of sparkling cider, ignoring Nat’s laugh at the full glass in your hands. You raise your glass in a mock toast, at least one of you was happy that you were back.

“I guess it's good to be back. Nice to be around people that care about me,” the grateful smile sent Nat’s way as a form of thank you.

Natalie deserved more than a pathetic smile and both of you knew it.

You had been relatively alright after Mikey’s death, which came as a surprise to everyone. Your impromptu stay in Chicago after the funeral was a way for you to keep an eye on Natalie and Donna, occasionally helping Richie at The Beef when you could.

But you had to return to your own life eventually, and when you did shit spiraled out of control for you.

People always drone on and on about the five stages of grief and how it affects everyone differently, and you never thought that statement to be more true than when you stepped foot in your apartment upon your return from Chicago. Grief is supposed to come and go, you were doing everything that everyone was telling you to do. Following all the steps, checking all the boxes. Forcing yourself to try and heal, to feel your emotions as much as you would allow yourself to.

But at the end of the day, it was just you, an apartment full of memories, a voicemail you were too scared to ever listen to, and the shadow of your grief following behind you.

You experienced all the denial, anger, bargaining, and depression and you waited and hoped for the acceptance to come. But all that ever came was the cycle of grief replaying in your life like a bad dream.

You had thrown yourself into your work, anything to forget about the pain Mikey’s ghost left behind. And when your psychiatrist recommended a prescription to aid with your anxiety, you accepted. Anything to escape the shadow of a man you once knew appearing in your apartment on late nights.

But then the prescription wasn’t enough, and the alcohol you once used to numb everything had lost its edge, your days just turned into functioning as best you could. And then there were times you couldn’t even remember the previous day, the last five minutes, falling asleep on the couch.

You had become dependent; dependent on the alcohol and the drugs, and the way they made things all better for a short time.

And then you had woken up in the hospital one day, with no memories of how you got there, no care for what happened to you.

The figure in the chair next to you helped you to escape the fog in your brain. The woman you had known your whole life looking down at you with a tear-stained face, her hand tightly clutched around yours, her presence all the more confusing.

The silence in the room was too loud for you as you just watched the blonde, the lack of emotion on your face breaking the woman down even more. When the doctor came in to explain what happened it shocked you. Not because of the severity of the situation, but because you couldn’t remember a thing.

The theory was that you had been mixing prescription drugs and alcohol for some time, a truth you already knew and were purposely partaking in.

You were at your apartment after work winding down from the long day, pregaming for a night out with your co-workers. The Ativan you had taken earlier at work already put you at ease. You were trying to get to your patio for some reason but had trouble with the sliding glass door.

Too inebriated to unlock it you had essentially thrown yourself against the glass until it finally gave way to the weight of your body and you ended up face down covered in glass and the pool of your blood.

Not fazed by your injuries you collected yourself, glass and all. Grabbing your keys from the counter leaving to whatever destination you had in mind. Somewhere between removing yourself from the mess of your ruined sliding door and stumbling out into the hallway, you swallowed two more pills.

According to the reports, a neighbor found the mess of your body in the hallway, making it a mere few inches from your door before your body succumbed to the deadly cocktail swirling inside you.

In October of 2022, 8 months after Michael’s death; you would overdose.

You were broken from the haze of memories as you felt a dip in the couch. Natalie came to sit right next to you head resting on your shoulder, you gently laid your head on top of hers. You owed Nat your life.

A quiet sniffle left you, losing the battle to keep your emotions under wraps. “You’ve done so much for me Sug, and I…I’m sorry if I haven’t shown you enough appreciation.” You felt Nat’s arms wrap around you, squeezing you into a side hug as the two of you sat in each other’s presence.

It was no secret that without Natalie and Pete, you might not have been experiencing this moment. You for sure wouldn’t have gotten your shit together if you were still all alone on the West Coast. Nat had gone out of her way to find the best treatment facility on the East Coast for you, it had been decided that you would make the move back to Chicago when you were released.

So while you were away facing the consequences of the darkest moments of your life. Nat was at home picking up the pieces of your life while also trying to keep hers intact, not that you realized or cared back then.

Nat and Pete sold the family home that was still in your mom's name, nobody needed to ask to know that it wasn’t healthy for you to live in or across the street from a museum of memories. The couple got you a good deal on a quaint home not too far from them, the leftover money put towards the rest of your savings.

Natalie Berzatto, a miracle worker in your eyes had somehow pulled strings to get you an interview with the Tribune. So yeah, you owed Nat a lot more than placating smiles and cheap pizza.

“Are you sure you’re ready for tomorrow?” You shifted positions at Nat’s question, the two of you now sitting criss-cross applesauce, facing each other on the couch. You gave a small nod, fingers playing with your fuzzy socks.

“I don’t have much of a choice,” you let out a small laugh. “I can’t expect you and Pete to babysit me forever.” You smiled up at Natalie, the prospect of writing again caused a sense of excitement to stir within you. It felt like the only thing you had left, the only thing you were still good at. Although you had almost completely fucked up your life, you still had your writing, and that was a start.

“Maybe we can meet up for lunch after?” You didn’t want to celebrate too soon, you hadn’t even got a job yet, but the idea of a lunch date with Nat sounded like the best form of indulgence you had allowed yourself in a while.

The night continued with the two of you talking, Sugar doing her best to catch you up on all that you missed sans any mention of a certain blue-eyed baby brother she had. As the night began winding down the two of you cleaned up the mess of your dinner, before you sent Nat on her way with promises to fill her in after your interview tomorrow.

Making sure your kitchen was cleaned to your liking, you made your way into your room to begin settling in for the night. A knit crew neck you had meant to return to its rightful owner once upon a time, becoming the basis of your pajamas after a relaxing shower.

Settling into bed you couldn’t help but lie awake, mind racing with all the different scenarios that could play out tomorrow. This was your first night alone in your new home and the reality of just how alone you were slowly began to sink in. You knew Nat would always be there for you if need be, but she had her own life to live, the beginnings of a family in her near future.

All you had at that moment were your racing thoughts and the regrets of a life you had almost ended too soon.

You sat in the lobby of the Tribune leg bouncing nervously as you waited for your meeting with the editor-in-chief, resume, and copies of your work sitting snugly in your tote bag. You knew Natalie had already sent over your information, but your nerves forced you to believe that being over-prepared would be necessary.

The sound of the receptionist calling your name caught your attention. She was standing a little ways away from you waiting for you to follow her, you gave a nervous smile before rising from your seat and following the rhythmic click-clack of her heels down the hall. As you watched her walk in front of you, you thought you may have been a little underdressed in your casual street clothes, but you forced yourself to push your thoughts aside. They’d be judging you for your backlog of work, not your choice of attire.

The receptionist lead you to a corner office, the frosted glass of the exterior providing a sense of privacy. Ushering you into the empty room she let you know that the editor you’d be meeting with would join you shortly. You sent her a small thanks before walking into the room, eyes catching on the minimalistic decorations scattered around the office.

Your feet lead you to the wall of windows situated behind the desk, the view reminding you of an office you had occupied so many months ago. You looked out over the Chicago skyline, it still felt so surreal to be back in this city.

The face staring back at you something you were still learning how to get used to. The scars that decorated the right side of your face were healing up nicely considering how deep some of the glass had gone.

You jumped at the sound of the door closing, someone entered so swiftly you hadn’t even heard them, or maybe you were just too wrapped up in memories of a past life. You hurriedly turned from the window not wanting to seem rude, the man who had entered the room caught your eye before gesturing for you to take a seat at one of the two chairs in front of his desk.

You felt a little less concerned about your fashion choice as your eyes followed his Levi-clad legs as he settled into the chair behind his desk. You could feel your nerves returning, not knowing what to expect from this interview. In the most humble sense you had forgotten what being interviewed felt like, not having to go through the process since getting your first big journalist job straight out of college.

“Nervous?” Your leg stopped bouncing as the man’s voice met your ears, a shy smile curving your lips.

“Here I thought I was being subtle,” you tried to joke hoping to relax yourself a bit. The responding chuckle helped somewhat, so far the man sitting in front of you didn’t seem like too much of a stickler.

“Never thought I’d see the day you were nervous in front of me Baby,” you tried to control the look of disgust you felt begging to paint your features. You were grateful for Nat’s help but you were sure this was a mistake.

“I’m sure HR has their hands full with you.” You mumbled, the roll of your eyes showcasing your irritation. “Thank you for the opportunity sir, but I don’t think this is a good fit for me.” You reached out to the chair next to you where you had sat your tote bag wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible.

“No wait,” the sound of the rolling chair moving rapidly caused you to stop, seconds away from rising from your chair. You turned your attention to the figure in front of you eyebrows pinched together.

“It's me, Hayden,” your brows furrowed even more, your mind searching your memory for that name. “I…uh, I took you to senior prom. We met in our creative writing class that same year.”

You felt your eyes widen as your mouth formed the shape of an ‘o’, eyes darting to the pristine nameplate facing you on the desk. The name ‘Hayden Ivanovski’ staring directly back at you.

“No fucking way.” The whisper traveled easily through the silent office, Hayden’s echoing chuckle caused you to let out a small one of your own. “I’m sorry, it's just nobody but close friends and family even call me that anymore. And, I really wasn’t expecting to see you.”

You watched as he nodded, you could see it now. The boy you once knew in the maturity of his face, hadn’t changed much but it was enough that you wouldn’t easily recognize him if he passed you on the street.

“Uh, the porn stache sure is a uh choice,” your hand raised to gesture to your upper lip, you couldn’t help the smile curving your lips.

Hayden laughed head dropping as he resumed his seated position. “Divorce makes you do crazy things,” your smile faltered, you hadn’t meant the quip as an invitation to discuss any personal grievances. “No need to look so sad, it was mutual.” He shrugged the topic off like he hadn’t given it a second thought in a long while.

You nodded your head distractedly, “Enough about my failed marriage, how have you been?” You gave him a small smile, mind going blank as you thought of the best route to take this conversation.

“I uh, almost died five months ago,” the laugh ripped from Hayden’s chest, the last thing you were expecting to hear. You watched as he found your eyes, his smile disappearing as he took in the harrowing look on your face.

“You-you’re not serious are you?” The question almost caused you to laugh.

“As serious as my overdose was,” you watched as Hayden shifted in his seat, the air easily became uncomfortable. “Sorry coping mechanism.” You laughed the topic off, you had assumed Nat told him when she booked you this interview.

“So um, when does the interview start,” your leg began bouncing up and down again, the nervousness returning. If you hadn’t already made a bad impression you were sure exposing your less-than-stellar life choices definitely lost you the job.

“Nat didn’t tell you?” You stopped your brows from pinching together, the constant frowning sometimes the tiny scar between your eyebrows. “I don’t need to interview you, you’re an amazing journalist. I hired you the second Nat told me you were moving back. That is if you want to work here.”

“You’re not just hiring me because we went to prom together, or as a favor to Natalie are you?” Nat had helped you to get your foot in the door, you had wanted to secure the job because of your merit.

You watched as Hayden quickly shook his head, “While it is nice to reconnect with you, we need some experience in our newsroom. I know before your uh… incident you were working as a travel journalist, and the pay here wouldn’t be the same. But you’d still have full control over the stories you write, although you might not write as often as you’re used to.” You nodded along listening to his explanation. The fact that this was happening failed to resonate with you.

“So, the position of Managing Editor is yours if you want it.” Hayden sent you a small smile awaiting your response, he did his best not to focus too long on your scars as he stared in your direction.

“As long as I can write and edit then I will happily work for you,” the large grin spreading across your lips stretched the small scar stitched into your upper lip.

The smile on Hayden’s lips matched yours as he walked around the desk to shake your hand. The two of you sat there going over the expectations that your new role required, Hayden explaining the environment he tried to uphold at the paper.

You finished the meeting off with a tour of the floor the Tribune occupied, the one you’d mostly be working on. The two of you caught up a little as he input you into the system and created your badge so you could easily come and go as you pleased. You learned that he married Marlene Buchanan, a girl you went to high school with. The ink of their divorce still drying after only being finalized two months ago.

He invited you out to lunch but you had to rain check explaining the plans you made with Natalie promising the two of you would work something out in the future. He walked out with you, the two of you parting ways once you left the lobby.

You stood on the sidewalk taking in the crisp Chicago air. Your life was finally starting to feel like your own again, and even though you had only secured a job, the inevitable weight of doom that followed you was beginning to feel a little lighter.

Natalie was pacing in the office quickly moving to close the door as the chaos sounding through the building caused a headache to form. She knew Cicero would be there in the next hour, and that the money problem was their biggest issue in getting the new restaurant up and running.

The urge to call you was immediate after speaking with Cicero. Nat knew how much you cared about this place, and regardless of what anyone else thought she wanted you to have a say in any decision they made now that you were permanently back in Chicago. And she’d be lying if she said the reserved funds that came with you weren’t also a reason to invite you to this meeting.

Shouts could be heard through the door as she finally made her mind up, you two had plans for lunch anyways so you could just meet her and the two of you would leave together. Any excuse Nat could think up to call you would help her.

Sighing she scrolled through her contacts before forcing herself to press on your name and just call you. She listened as the phone rang, part of her hoping you didn’t answer her call, the hope immediately dying as your voice sang through the speaker.

“Nat, hey! I was just about to call you,” She smiled at the light tone in your voice, a tone she hadn’t heard in quite some time. “We still on for lunch?” The question caused her to take a deep breath, it was now or never she either asked you or she didn’t.

“Yeah of course. Uhh but would you mind meeting me at The Beef?” She was hoping the question came across as nonchalant, she called out your name as the line went quiet, sure you had hung up on her.

“Nat, I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” the apprehension in your voice made her feel guilty for even asking you in the first place.

“Listen, Baby, I know how you feel but we’re making a big decision today and I feel like you deserve to have your input heard,” she waited for a minute before continuing. “If it triggers you we can leave immediately, no questions asked okay? I just…this might be good for you.” She bit her lip as she waited for your response, she would be okay with whatever you decided but at least she had put the opportunity out there.

“I think I can be there in 45 minutes,” the tired sigh that escaped your lips matched the way Nat was feeling.

“Thank you, Baby.” She listened as you said your goodbyes before hanging up the phone, Nat was sure if she didn’t already have morning sickness she would’ve thrown up from that phone call alone.

It was exactly as you remembered it. Not that you had expected the exterior to change in the year since you’d been there. Although not physically changed things felt different, it no longer felt nostalgic as you stood there looking at the newspaper-covered windows. You could feel the anxiety eating away at you, the sick part deep inside of you wishing you had something to numb your feelings.

You could hear the faint sound of an alarm blaring with how close you were standing, the sound helping you to focus on the things you could control. You hadn’t come all this way just to look at the old building’s facade, and part of you didn’t think you could take disappointing Natalie by walking away. Nat wouldn’t have been disappointed in you though, but since your accident, you were scared to ever see that look in her eyes again.

The deep breath of fresh air filling your lungs helped to cool you down a bit. The pairing of your puffer jacket and scarf felt a bit suffocating.

In through your nose out through your mouth, a few more deep breaths were all you allowed yourself before forcing your hand to grip the door handle and step foot into a building that might haunt you for a lifetime.

The constant screeching of the alarm was so loud it made you glad that it drowned out the sound of the bell ringing above the door. Your eyes traveled around the restaurant, it was the same but it wasn’t. Little things missing telling you that some type of work was being done.

“As I live and fucking breathe!” The loud voice you would recognize anywhere drawing your attention to the dining area, Richie’s large figure taking up the doorway.

You shared a small smile with him. Subtly adjusting your scarf to cover the most noticeable scar lining your face, you watched as the older man took steps to close the distance between the two of you. The tall man quickly pulled you into a tight hug.

You hadn’t realized how much you needed a hug from Richie until you were snuggly pressed against his chest, the warmth of his body helping to relax you. The unconscious thought crossed your mind that you might have never experienced one of these hugs again if you hadn’t made it to the hospital in time.

The love Richie was pouring into the hug caused your eyes to water, Mikey’s passing bonding the two of you, the loss of someone you both loved so much bringing the two of you impossibly closer. But not close enough for him to know the path you had taken after. And not close enough for you to want to burden him with being just another addict in his life.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your head before pulling away, the annoying alarm still blaring at full volume. You stepped back to give him space, “You been fucking around in the crawl space Richie?” The question paired with your signature grin as Richie let loose his boisterous laugh.

“Of course, you’d fucking know about the alarm.” Richie’s disgruntled mumbling met your ears.

“Hey, Richie, could you please turn that goddamn motherfuckin thing off?” The voice of Cicero filtered through your ears. “It’s making me insane!”

“My bad Uncle J, Baby just walked through the door and shit like a ghost. Fucking Mikey booby trapping crawl spaces and shit.” He poked his head back into the dining room to let the occupants know he somewhat had the situation under control.

“Mikey’s fuckin Kevin McCalliper-,” The responses correcting Richie caused you to let out a small giggle, the noise bringing a smile to Richie’s lips.

You continued standing with Richie as he spoke to somebody on the phone, the long one-word password he gave made you chuckle. Pretending you knew how to help Richie was an excuse to not join the conversation going on in the back for a while.

While the blaring alarm was causing your ears to ring, the loud noise was a buffer between your impending thought and the inevitability of being back in this restaurant. The sudden quiet was the only sign that you would have to face a now unavoidable situation.

“Here lemme take that,” Richie reached out expecting you to give him your scarf and jacket. You hesitated, your wardrobe feeling like a sense of armor for the time being.

“Uh, I’m actually pretty cold. Thanks, Rich.” Your hand shot out to pat his bicep, head jerking in the direction the voices were coming from. “Sugar in there?” You didn’t need Richie to reply to know the answer.

You followed Richie’s lead as he headed to the back, taking a deep breath to still your nerves, not all too sure what you were getting yourself into. You watched as Richie pulled up a chair next to Cicero for you, taking your tote bag out of your hands as he gestured for you to sit. You smiled politely, giving him a small nod as you moved further into the room.

Three out of four familiar faces stared back at you, the look on Nat’s face indicating how much it meant for her that you showed up.

“What is this an intervention?” You made the joke as a way to cut the tension that had filled the room, the silence felt even louder as Nat said your name in a reprimanding tone, the joke not being funny to her one bit. You shrugged before moving to sit in your designated chair, shooting a small smile to the dark-skinned woman who was eyeing you from across the table. Your eyes easily avoided the blue ones you knew too well.

You listened as Nat cleared her throat, all attention focused on her. “So uh, I invited Baby here because I think she deserves to be a part of this decision.” Four eyes flashed to you as you awkwardly adjusted in your seat. “And, um she has a decent savings account.”

A snort left your lips at Natalie’s rushed words, her ulterior motives for inviting you here reminding you a bit of her mischievous brown-eyed older brother.

“Sorry uh, big fan of your work. But uh, how do you play into all this.” Your eyes drifted to the unknown woman, a smile played at your lips, a feeling of shyness sweeping across you at the fact that she had any idea who you were.

“Family friend.”

“Old acquaintance.”

The three other people at the table looked between you and Carmy, eyes darting back and forth at both of your explanations. You couldn’t help the cackle you let out, missing the look of panic shooting through Natalie’s eyes. You couldn’t recall a time you would ever describe your relationship with Carmen Berzatto as an acquaintanceship.

“Baby is a close family friend,” Nat interjected before any other response could be given. “A friend we should be thankful for even considering investing in the restaurant.”

Your eyes finally found Carmy’s having a hard time taming the smile threatening to spread across your lips. The false confidence you were exuding helped you not overthink the situation you were in.

The conversation picked back up where it had left off after you entered. You sank into your seat shoving your hands into your jacket and tucking your chin into your scarf as you did your best to pay attention. You couldn’t help but let your eyes travel across the mostly empty dining room, memories of a life that no longer felt like your own clawing to overtake your senses.

Up and down, up and down. The tick you gained while in recovery helped you to remain in the present your leg working overtime as it bounced to keep you focused.

The voices talking around you are drowned out by your wandering thoughts. Thoughts that had you re-evaluating your relationship with Natalie.

It was no secret that you had become a selfish person after Mikey’s death, every decision you made was to benefit you, and if someone else somehow benefited from it then good for them.

That was the reason you stayed in Chicago so long after the funeral, telling yourself that the remaining Berzattos needed you, that you were staying to make sure they made it out of the deep end alive.

But that was a lie, you stayed because you were too afraid to face your own emotions, afraid to face your grief head-on. Even now you could say you stayed behind to ensure Donna and Sugar were okay, but deep down you knew that you stayed because you didn’t want to be alone.

You helped Richie at The Beef because he needed you, needed to know he wasn’t alone. In all actuality, it was you who needed them, you who had become dependent on people grieving just as much as you.

The same could be said about your substance abuse after returning to your reality. The idea of never being able to talk to Mikey, see Mikey, or hold Mikey was all just an excuse you used to justify your indulgences.

You constantly told yourself that it wouldn’t be fair to burden Sugar or Richie with your hurting, that they didn’t need to babysit you while trying to heal themselves. That when your memory became spotty and you missed more than one of Sugar’s calls, it was because she didn’t need to put up with you and your problems.

And then unintentionally or not, you became Natalie’s problem. Not even letting her brother’s grave grow cold before you forced her to face the idea of losing another person she spent her whole life loving.

You pleaded with the universe for Nat to wipe her hands of you. To let you waste your life away and rot like you were starting to. To turn her back on you, because how could you so easily fall into the same vice as Mikey knowing how much it affected him; knowing how much it affected the people who cared for him.

How dare you pretend as though no one would give a shit if they had to bury you mere months after putting Michael to rest. How fucking dare you be so selfish.

There were nights in bed where you’d lay awake questioning your intentions. Had you purposely thrown your life away because you knew Natalie would come to your rescue? Did you somehow manipulate Natalie’s good nature into digging you out of a hole you were so far gone in you couldn’t bring yourself back from?

You always got on Natalie about putting herself first, and how she needed to stop stretching herself so thin for everyone else. And then you went and almost fucking died, and you forced her to take on a role she had been playing her whole life.

You had willingly ruined your life and forced Natalie to face the consequences.

If there was one thing you learned in your recovery, it was that getting clean, staying clean, and becoming a healthier better version of yourself should never be done for someone else. You had to want it for yourself, but damn if seeing Natalie’s face didn’t push you to get your shit together you weren’t sure what did.

“500,” you weren’t sure where the confidence to speak up came from, not even entirely sure what the balance in your savings account even was. Your unfocused eyes now staring directly into Natalies. “That’s my offer.” You quickly glanced around at everyone else unsure as to what they were even talking about but needing to put your stake into the game.

“Like $500..or,” your attention turned to the other woman, her voice trailing off indicating that she indeed was asking a question.

A chuckle parted your lips as you shook your head. “No, I mean 500K.” You made sure to look at each person across from you individually, instilling how serious your offer was.

“Bullshit.” The sound of Carmy’s voice startled you, sure he had been speaking this whole time but it's not like you were paying that much attention.

You scoffed, eyes rolling in tandem with the sound. “I thought you needed money Carmen,” the name slipped through clenched teeth. You turned to face Nat. Your final numbers would be decided between the two of you, “Nat?”

“100.”

“450.”

“120.”

“375.”

“200,” you hesitated for a minute. The triumphant smile on Natalie’s lips caused your eyes to narrow.

“250, or I walk.” You leaned forward hands moving to lay flat atop the table, a small smirk played on your lips. Your leverage was total shit and Nat knew that there was no way you’d walk away from this project.

“Deal.” The smile on your lips faltered as you faced Carmy again, his annoying crystal blue eyes staring daggers into you.

Clearing your throat you slumped back in your seat, hands moving back to hide inside your pockets. The meeting finished on a good note without a hitch, with the restaurant gaining an extra 250K to put toward inevitable expenses.

You quickly stood from your seat moving to escape any awkward reunion that may have sprouted between you and Carmy. The interest in meeting Carmy’s partner was pushed to the back burner as you made your way through the restaurant, looking for the one other person you wanted to speak with at the moment.

Maneuvering through the kitchen you found Tina not too far from what you remembered to be her usual station. You leaned against the wall watching her work, the effort she was putting into saving burnt and rusted pots bringing a small smile to your face. You shrugged off your jacket and slipped the scarf from around your neck.

“Need some help?” The hesitation in your voice was evident. You weren’t sure where you stood with Tina, you knew how she felt about Mikey and how much his choices affected her. The thought of relaying the past few months to her was too much for you to think about at this moment, you had time, and when you were ready you would confide in her. But for now, there was no point in ruining a much-needed reunion.

You watched as Tina jolted, not prepared to hear your voice. “Ay, dios mío!” Tina turned to you hand raised above her heart, eyes wide. “Why the fuck are you sneaking around the kitchen.” You listened to the older woman’s voice scold you before making your way in her direction.

Not giving her another second before throwing your arms around her, you probably should’ve made sure it was okay, but there was nothing like a mother’s endearing hug to let you know that everything would eventually be okay.

The two of you stood in each other’s embrace in the middle of the kitchen. Neither of you said a word as your quiet sobs began to echo off the walls. You were crying for Mikey, and for yourself, and for all the lives the both of you had ruined, whether they knew it or not.

You were apprehensive to step foot back in this establishment so soon. But it had easily shown you all the things your life would have missed out on had you not allowed Natalie to get you the help you needed.

Carmy’s head perked up as he noticed you exit the kitchen with Tina. His irritation began to rise as he laid eyes on you, Sugar had blindsided him with your arrival. He hadn’t even known you moved back to Chicago, let alone that you had any interest in getting The Bear up and running.

You looked different. His eyes immediately caught the obvious scar tracing along your jaw. The tip of it started a few centimeters below your chin before meeting your jawline and finding its end just before your ear. It was a gnarly scar and he knew for sure the amount of stitches you needed must have been painful.

Carmy was also sure you didn’t have that scar a year ago, nor the smaller one that was carved into your upper lip. He would’ve taken notice, you can’t spend 48 hours with someone and not be able to recall all the puzzle pieces that were specially made to create them.

He watched the two of you approach the group at the counter, you hanging a little farther back than probably necessary, pretending to occupy yourself with the bare walls. Carmy might’ve smiled at your awkwardness if he wasn’t so confused by your presence.

A distracted farewell to Tina left his lips as he tried not to be so obvious in his study of you. His eyes refused to meet Sugar’s as he could feel her watching him, watching you.

Sydney’s return gained his full attention, forcing himself to focus on something else other than his thoughts that were racing and full of you. The clearing of your throat as you finally made your way to stand next to Sug had all six sets of eyes focusing on you.

You didn’t just look different. From the very few interactions the two of you shared and Carmy’s constant people-watching, you seemed like an altogether new person, the confidence and surety he was used to seeing in you was dull.

“I don’t mean to impose, but I was kind of hoping I could take on a more involved role in all of this?” Carmy’s eyes squinted as your hand raised in a flourish to signify you were talking about the restaurant.

You were met with silence. Carmy was too distracted by being in your presence after a drought without you, and Sydney still hadn’t even been truly introduced to you.

“Shit, sorry.” Your hand shot out to shake the woman’s hand as the two of you introduced yourselves. Although she read your articles, mostly your profile stories highlighting various chefs, it was different to be formally introduced to the person behind the stories.

“I uh, actually read most of your articles.” Carmy watched as you brightened up a bit your writing something that would always bring you joy. “I had to cancel my subscription though.” The sound of your laugh went straight to Carmy’s heart, he hadn’t realized how much he missed the delicate sound until hearing it again in this moment.

“I actually have a proposal for you three,” you paused, making sure everyone was paying attention before continuing your explanation. “What if I highlighted the renovation? I was..uh…before,” you had to stop yourself and take a deep breath to ground yourself.

“I was profiling The Beef and Mikey before he…yeah. Um, so I was thinking I could maybe continue that with The Bear,” you stopped to make sure everyone was following along, sending Carmy a small smile before continuing. “We could profile the team, give people a behind-the-scenes look into the renovation, and who’s behind it. I would publish it, it would be great PR and might help to fill seats.”

The following silence made you feel insecure about your proposal. “Maybe just give it a thought. No pressure or anything uh just let me know if there's any interest.” Your voice trailed off as your confidence continued to plummet, Carmy’s blank eyes doing nothing to quell your nervousness.

You turned your attention back to Sugar, a silent plea to leave in your eyes. She nodded “Uh, Baby and I had plans so we’ll be heading out.” You sent the two chefs in front of you a forced smile before hurriedly returning to the kitchen to pick up your jacket and scarf you left there. Call it cowardly but slipping out through the kitchen’s back door seemed to be in your best interest.

The fresh air whipped against your face like a blade, and the immediate change in temperature helped to relax you. There would never have been a perfect time to make your return to this restaurant, and maybe it wasn’t how you things to go, but you felt an immense pressure off your shoulders.

The hard part was over, you made it through the door, walked past the remnants of Mikey every time a specific spot reminded you of him.

It wouldn’t always be like today, you knew that. Some days would be harder than others as you worked through your struggles and allowed yourself to feel the loss of Mikey. One step at a time, it was cliche but it was really how you had to live your life from now on.

Being around Carmy would continue to be hard for the time being. You had essentially watched his brother deteriorate, watched as his mind no longer became his own. And you too had almost become a victim to the whims of your drug-addled mind.

You wouldn’t force a relationship with him and would make him privy to your shortcomings when you were ready. But you told yourself you would be okay if he wanted nothing to do with you, the choices you made would not be easy to come to terms with. And if Carmen Berzatto decided he was finally done with your constant disappointment in his life, you’d just have to accept it.

The sound of Natalie’s footsteps pulled you from the labyrinth of your mind, a small smile sent her way as the two of you made your journey far from this lot of memories.

Carmen stared at the outlines they had hung along the walls, eyes following along with tasks that needed to be completed to open in six months.

He didn’t want to admit it but he was a little bummed out that Sugar returned to the restaurant without you. Any small glimpse, or interaction he could get with you he would swallow like a man starving. The chef stood there doing his best as his counterpart gushed over meeting you, doing his best not to cringe at his two worlds colliding.

Carmy wasn’t sure if he could keep it professional while you worked alongside him on the renovation. Sure you would be doing your own thing in tandem with the work that would get done. But surrounding himself with you in an already stressful time in his life and an even more stressful environment wasn’t something he was prepared for.

He let his mind wander, thoughts of what happened to you in the year since your visit drowning him. Carmy had no clue what happened after you left that night, no clue what had seemed to connect you and Sugar more than you already were.

Seeing you again made his chest hurt. Seeing you was like a hot poker being shoved through his heart, unbearably comfortable but all so warming at the same time. He wanted to know you, know what had changed you since the last time his fingers had traced your skin.

Carmy knew the two of you were nowhere near as close as you had once been. Unsure if you’d ever share a connection like your past one. But he knew while you were here, in Chicago, surrounding yourself with him, the two of you would be given equal opportunity to put this years-long game of cat and mouse to an end; it was just a matter of who bit first.

a/n: well…here we are. i know this might read like baby’s life is just gonna be sunshine and rainbows from here on out but i can promise its not. she is a deeply flawed character with a lot of shit to figure out and a half baked relationship with everyone’s favorite chef won’t fix that. i’ve been around addicts my whole life so i have an understanding of what they can be like, i want to iterate that in no way am i romanticizing addiction. my personal experiences with functioning/addicts DO NOT make me an expert on this topic in anyway, but i do use those experiences to write for baby. i’m always here if anyone needs to talk. i hope you all enjoy <3

taglist: @hawkins-2000 @elliesbabygirl @allbark-no-bite @anakinswh0re3005 @rexorangecouny @thecraziestcrayon @fruitcupsworld @nishinoyahhh @lilylovelyxo @ridingthehotmessexpress @noas-ark @jadeittic @hellokittyever @luvr-bunnyy @sxgees @fandomhopped @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @kravitzwhore @chanluuvr @readingwiththereids @chims-kookies @ladygrey03 @ferida-kahlo @wanderlustnightwanderer @how2besalty @armydrcamers @jointherebellion215 @jackierose902109 @blkbxrbie-esther @ajordan2020 @head-slut-in-charge @magnet-girl @thebookwormlife @sevikasblackgf @writers-hes @senassn @bunnysthngs @khena @kailyn-g05 @ovaqma @fire-treasure-iii @frequentnosebleeder

unable to tag: @gcidrvsh @awatt31 @cauliflowerpatch

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fic #carmen berzatto angst #the bear x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #all i ever knew only you ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊#[aiekoy] chapter 4 #carmy the bear

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kent-farm · 1 year

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—Tayler Buck as Natalie Irons wearing this BDG Delia Corduroy Varsity Jacket (in Green; Sold Out), Superman and Lois, “The Ties That Bind”

#Superman and Lois Wardrobe #Natalie Irons #Tayler Buck #Natalie's Closet #BDG #2.02 The Ties That Bind #Superman & Lois

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shipmanisms · 2 months

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valentine's day with the yjs ୧ 💌 ୨

cw: pretty much just fluff !!! may have swear words included tho ??

a/n: made this for me and everyone else who's single on valentine's day too :l hope this make you all feel a lil better and ily mwah mwah, happy ( early ) valentine's day babes <3

NATALIE SCATORCCIO

- pretends she hates valentines day and everything that has to do it but deep down she adores it

- will stand awkwardly looking at the different kind of chocolates and sweets and being like "uhmmmm.....reeses are never a bad option i guess?" ALSO I FEEL LIKE she'd ask other people buying stuff for their partners what they're gonna get them cuz she's so confused 😭

- we all know she's a sucker for kisses, cuddles, holding hands, AAAANYTHING that has to do with physical touch but hates showing it so i think she'd use valentine's day as an excuse to be publicly affectionate a bit

- ok that's all i might add more later on

JACKIE TAYLOR

- she's OBSESSED with holidays and celebrations, whether it's valentine's day, christmas, anything

- waking you up at like 7am and being like "hi hi valentine hey you're my valentine it's time to wake up my valentine" while shaking you and smooching you all over

- she's never letting go of you on vday. always clinging by your side, holding your other hand while you're brushing your teeth, talking to you from outside of the door while you're on the toilet, hugging you by the waist when you're cooking

- wearing ridiculous matching outfits with her in PUBLIC. i feel like she'd have those shirts that say "their queen" AND YOU "her king/queen/monarch(☠️)" OR GETTING YOU THOSE SILLY LIL HEADBANDS THINGIES WITH THE JIGGLY HEARTS..

- knows exactly what to buy you and she's already gotten everything prepared😭 it's adorable cause she'll give you a gift of something you forgot you wanted and you're just sitting there standing like :O

SHAUNA SHIPMAN

- ditches you for jackie. end.

- JK. i think she'd just treat it like a regular day honestly

- gets you a chocolate and calls it a day but not in a bad way??? LIKE she already loves you and does a lot of things to show it so she doesn't really think valentine's day is necessary

LOTTIE MATTHEWS

- she's suuuuuuuuch a softie for showing you off and getting to shower you with gifts :(

- she wouldn't wanna go out too much, she'd probably have everything set out already. your gifts hiding in the closet, your sweets hidden in the fridge, everything prepared and on point

- i feel like since some of the yjs were mean to her and telling her to just stop talking and stuff, she'd be kinda closed off at the start and she'd be scared to show you how much she loves and adores you, but then when she sees that you accept and give her the same love back and even more she's SOOOO hyper

- writes you cheesy letters that you keep in your drawer forever and probably even little drawings of your favourite things or you and her 😭

VAN PALMER

- THE SILLY!!!!!MAI SILLY!!!DE SILLY!!!:DD

- arcade dates w them on valentine's day or going like on an amusement park☝️☝️

- they'd go print out some silly t-shirts for y'all... like "i love my van" with a picture of a van LMAOO and they'd make you wear it all the time

- if you want to do smth on that day, you BET you will. they'll never let you down i SWEAR they're the sweetest pookiest babiest to ever exist :(((((((((

TAISSA TURNER

- hates valentine's day more than anything... "what the fuck im NOT wearing that" when you ask her to match outfits with you but does it anyway

- she's miserable doing anything on valentine's day cause she thinks it's cringe but warms up to it when she sees how happy it makes you

- she's the girl that said "happy wife happy life" btw so she'll do anything u ask her to no matter how much she despises it which is.. a lot probably

- gets you a chocolate and takes 2 hours to decide if she should write you a corny letter with it and she scribbles down some ideas but then just puts :)

LAURA LEE

- as a christian we shouldn't be celebrating vday but im not really that religious so????

- but laura lee is so anyways she would be all like "im not going to sin, i don't want to disappoint my lord" 😭😭😭

- she'd still go on a date w you, well more like flower picking and stuff and she'd probably pull out the the bible and start reading to you but you love her too much to say no so you just listen

- ok yeah that's it end of post mwah mwah

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joelmillerisapunk · 3 months

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Brothers in Arms | i. don't talk to strangers

Cartel!Joel and Tommy Miller x Reader

masterlist | series masterlist

↳ Wordcount: 6,281

↳ Warnings: 18+, you're being watched, but it's different (it's the pick me quirky kinda being watched), you meet the boys, tags will added to each chapter

↳ Authors Note: Welcome, I hope you enjoy the first chapter. This is the first series I've ever written (please be gentle) also I couldn't find an accurate representation of cartel Tommy because Gabriel Luna is too cute and smiley, so I had to go suitless Tommy 🥰

Ten missed calls from your dad…

You didn't want to talk to him. You knew that as soon as you answered the phone, you'd forgive him for telling you that you didn’t have the guts to be a criminal psychologist. He told you that you were too sweet to survive. That those criminal types would eat you.

You suppose his feelings shouldn’t surprise you considering his “war on crime” campaign. He said the only place for criminals was prison. Do the crime, do the time. Completely ignoring the statistics that people that go through the system will end up back in again because the prison system tries to profit off prisoners instead of, you know, help them, like they were supposed to.

Like talking to a brick wall.

It didn’t matter that you were well on your way to a bachelor’s degree and then a master’s degree afterward. He had his own stubborn ideologies that no one, not even an expert in that field could dispute.

Fucking politicians.

Your phone buzzed again. This time a text.

Dad: Call me

You: No. I have plans. Stop calling me.

You threw your phone on the little twin bed in your dorm, watching it bounce on the thin mattress. Your roommate, Natalie, invited you to go out tonight. Most of the time, she ignored you, and who could blame her? You weren't the chatty type.

Two years into your degree, you were still buried in a book, absorbing every little bit of information you could because you found it so interesting. Natalie was a marketing major, so there wasn’t any crossover.

In your defence, your major was a bit more demanding so you didn’t have a lot of free time. But, you really chalk it up to being your dad’s only child. You were practically wrapped in bubble wrap since the moment you were born. But after getting into the thousandth fight with your father, you wanted to live a little. There was this club downtown you were being taken out to, your first experience at a club. You were terrified.

The dorm door opened. “Hey, girly. You ready?” You turned to see Natalie standing there, perfect brunette eyebrows raised. She was built like a supermodel. You swear a potato sack would look like high fashion on her. Meanwhile, you stood there in your most club-worthy dress, and it still had a collar. Natalie’s eyes flickered across your dress.

“Do you have a meeting after this or something?” she teased, not in a playful way. Her voice had a mean tilt, but you were so starved for a female friend that you were willing to let it slide.

"I don’t have anything to wear,” you stated, gesturing to your half of the closet that was filled about an eighth of the way. You lived in your sweatshirt. 104 degrees Texas heat and you’d still wear that thing around because your classes were cold as fuck.

Natalie laughed quietly, “Of course, you don’t. Do you think you can even keep up with me and my friends tonight? There’s no shame in staying in and reading…again.” She said it like there was definitely shame in doing that.

As much as it pissed you off internally, you let yourself wither. You wouldn’t get what you wanted if you snapped at her. “I’ll be fine,” you murmured sheepishly.

She passed you, smelling like expensive shampoo, and opened your dresser. “I’ll find something for you. That dress will make you stick out like a sore thumb.” She tossed a few items on your mattress. “There, jeans and this cute little lacy thing.”

“That is a bra,” you pointed out. “I’m not wearing just a bra.”

“You’re no fun. I’ve got a mesh top to put over it. You’ve got the tits for it,” Natalie said. “Show a little skin.'' You were a little thrown at the compliment, but you'd take it. “And take your hair down, the messy tousle is really in right now,” Natalie mentioned as she waited for you to finish up. And as you got dressed, you think she might have been right. Showing a little skin but feeling covered up was a fantastic combination. You felt hot.

Natalie seemed happy with her handiwork. You grabbed your phone and wallet, and you were off. You called an Uber to take you to the club to meet up with her friends, Monica and Katherine. And for once, you felt like you blended in with them. You looked like you belonged in the same friend group, and that, in and of itself, was exhilarating.

The bouncer checked your IDs, and you were in. You'd have to say that the bumping bodies, the confined space, the loud music, and the flashing lights were really disorienting. But you were determined to have fun tonight. Your heart crashed against your ribs, and you could feel the bass in your bones, vibrating your entire body. You just needed a drink to settle yourself.

Following Natalie and her friends to the bar, she bought you your first drink and shouted, “Thanks for coming out tonight!” The bartender handed you all shot glasses full of a clear, potent-smelling liquid. Tequila. You may have never had it yourself, but you always smelled it on your mom’s breath when she was around. Your stomach rolled, but you raised the shot glass and replied, “Thanks for inviting me! Cheers!”

You threw it back before you could register how the other girls were licking salt off their hands and chasing it with a hard bite of lime. The strong liquor hit your stomach, causing a wave of nausea to hit you, but you gulped it down and pretended like you meant to do that.

“Cheap tequila straight,” Monica said before looking over at Natalie. “Where’d you find her? I like her.”

You shot her a pained smile, fighting the burn in your throat. Natalie laughed and said, “Come on, let’s dance! I see some guys on the dance floor that I wouldn’t mind going home with.” You arched a brow, and you finally got a genuine smile out of her. “Not our dorm, obvi. I’m trashy, but not that trashy,” Natalie promised.

That made you laugh a little, your belly started to feel warm from the first shot you had ever taken. Not that you’d ever tell them that.

You went out to the dance floor, wedging yourselves between bustling bodies. You felt a little nervous, your palms getting clammy, but you just followed everyone’s lead. You bounced along to the music, letting the bass dictate your hip rolls. Soon, you started to warm up. It was fun to dance around and move with the crowd.

Sweat beaded behind your neck, and you turned to the side, locking eyes with a dark-eyed man sitting at the bar. He wasn’t drinking, but there was no mistake that he was looking right at you. Your belly fluttered as you took him in, no longer interested in dancing. His broad frame slanted against the bar, his shirt was slightly unbuttoned and rolled up his forearms.

What is it about forearms? Your belly quivered a little bit.

You turned to see what Natalie and the others were doing, but she seemed to be choking on some random guy’s tongue in the corner. Part of you envied that. The ability to see what you want and act on it.

You were more methodical. Always a thinker. But this time, you wanted to act. There was a sinfully attractive man in the corner eyeing you. If you didn’t act on it, someone else would.

Oh, God, but what if he was looking at someone else?

As if sensing your hesitance, he waved at you, and you looked around, pointing at yourself like, “Who, me?” Even from several feet away, you could see a dimpled smile as the mystery man nodded, beckoning you over to the bar. You slid out from around the bodies to the slightly quieter bar. Up close, he was even more attractive. He was older than you but you weren't sure how much older. Certainly, the type of man well settled in his career. Made you wonder what he was doing at a club when statistically–

Hey, you told yourself, stop psychoanalysing strangers.

“Hi,” you greeted, unsure what else to say. You were very out of your comfort zone, but tonight was all about doing new things. Not that you were going to do him or–

“Hi,” he answered. “Do you want a drink?”

You tucked some hair behind your ear, heat in your cheeks from how you noticed his eyes follow your fingertip like he could see all of you. You'd never felt so naked before, but you made the mistake of looking down to see your tits proudly on display under the mesh shirt, in a lacy red bra. Your cheeks fired up even faster. “Yeah, I’d like that.” Maybe a drink would cool your nerves. Doubtful, but worth a shot. Ha. Shot. You could use one of those.

“Hmm, let me guess your drink,” the mystery man offered.

A smile curved the side of your mouth, and you were too intrigued to argue. “Okay, give me your best guess.”

“You don’t drink much, if at all,” he said, tapping his chin with a thick finger. “But if I had to guess that you were a wine cooler type of girl.”

You were shocked because he was absolutely right. How’d he get that off a look? “But, since wine coolers are shit, let me recommend a Tequila Sunset,” he said. “It packs a little more of a punch, but it’s fruity enough to take out the bite.”

You purse your lips, unsure if you'd like it, but you were in too deep not to humor him. “You know what? Sure.”

He turned to the bartender and ordered it. The bartender made a show of mixing it up for you before placing a lovely glass of orange fading into a berry red from the grenadine. He watched you intently with those intense eyes as you took a sip, marvelling that the juice took out that awful taste of tequila. You repressed a smile and said, “That’s quite delicious.”

He returned your grin with one of his own, showing off perfectly straight teeth. “I’m Joel. And you are…?”

And you answered, giving him your name.

“It suits you.”

Your face felt hot, not expecting that response. “Thanks.” You took another sip of your yummy cocktail that tasted more like juice than liquor. “So, Joel, tell me how you guessed my drink of choice.”

He shrugged his toned shoulders, drawing your gaze to the chords of muscle around his neck. Never once have you ever wanted to take a bite out of a human being, but here you were, wondering how his muscles would feel between your teeth. He wasn’t close enough to smell his cologne, but he just looked like he smelled good.

“You don’t look like you come to clubs often, so it was a lucky guess,” Joel said.

“Is it that obvious?” you asked meekly. Here you thought you were blending in nicely, but maybe you did stick out.

He smiled at me and said, “No. My brother owns a club so I’m in them pretty frequently. Checking out the competition.”

That made you feel better. You parted your lips to ask another question when Natalie came between Joel and you to order another drink. She took a step back at your side and gave Joel a once over. “And where have you been hiding?” Natalie said flirtatiously.

While Joel looked at you, he was smiling. Visibly interested in you, but with Natalie, he looked very bored. He ignored her completely, which you would have found rude if it wasn’t also incredibly hot. You liked the attention.

“Can I have your phone?” he asked, outstretching his hand to you.

You reached into your jeans pocket and pulled it out, placing it in his hand. Nervously, you sipped your drink. Was he really about to give you his number? He saved himself in your phone and handed it back. “Call me,” he said, standing up from the barstool. “Or don’t. But I really hope you do.”

He flashed you one more dimpled smile, shot Natalie one more dirty look, and left.

“What a dick,” Natalie grumbled, but you were too engrossed in the contact info. You had a hundred notifications from your dad in the notification bar, but your eyes were locked on Joel's name.

“Whatever, let’s go dance.” Natalie grabbed your arm, clearly irritated at the one man in the entire club who wasn’t showing her attention. You relented, tucking your phone into your pocket as you danced the night away with Natalie, the mysterious man from the bar on your mind.

Should I call him?

You looked at your phone, lingering on Joel's contact info. Your thumb hovered over the message button, but you turned off your screen instead. Study. You need to study. You divert your attention to your criminal psychology textbook, taking notes for various terms you need to know. You didn’t necessarily need the notes. You remembered everything you saw.

A gift and a curse. A gift for college. A curse because you can’t forget anything. Your dad’s bribe deals. All the sketchy shit he got himself involved in, you remembered. You could even remember the name on the check with crystal clear accuracy. Sierpente. A distinct last name. Of course, considering how fast your dad snapped that check away from you only solidified it in your memory. He played it off, but you knew how nervous he was. Whoever this Sierpente was, they were bad news.

So sure, you were avoiding your dad because you were angry with him, but you also didn’t want to get tangled in his web. What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you. Because you were also a terrible liar.

You were practically a walking textbook.

You sighed, leaning back on your rolly chair to tie your hair up. It wasn’t a very good bun, but your hair was always so unruly anyway. Your leg shook, and you couldn’t stop tapping your pen on your desk, eyes darting back to your phone again.

Fuck it. I’ll text the mystery man from the other night.

Keep it short and simple. Don’t sound desperate. Joel was too attractive to find desperate and endearing. You typed a few letters only to backspace.

You: Hi, it’s the girl from the other…

Nope. Nope. Nope.

You: Salutations. I was pleased to meet…

Salutations? You started to backspace when you accidentally hit send. Sounding like a fucking weirdo by texting “Salutations—”

Giving up hope, you turned off your screen and placed it facedown on your desk. Way to fucking go. That’s the last time you ever try to make a move. You pressed your palm into your forehead. Never once had you ever used that greeting before, but you decided to send it to a drop-dead gorgeous man you met at a club.

Way to fuck that one up.

Why were you so hung up on it? Joel had this energy about him. You felt it when you were next to him. It intrigued you. You remembered what his hands looked like. Burned into your vision with perfect accuracy. You bet those hands would look great around your throat.

And where the fuck did that come from?

A spike of lust coiled in your belly at the image. Lust wasn’t completely foreign to you, but you never acted on it. Boys never interested you. Surrounded by boys in class and on campus. You'd always been attracted to older men, but you had no idea how to make a move. And your inexperience was apparently a massive turn-off.

Your phone buzzed, and you flipped it over to see that Joel texted back.

Joel: Salutations to you too. Who’s this?

Your face warmed as you tried to wait the appropriate amount of time before texting back. But in reality, you replied in about ten seconds.

You: From the other night at the bar.

Three dots appeared, keeping you on the edge of your seat.

Joel: Tequila Sunrise? How are you?

You: Just studying. You?

Joel: Another boring day at the office. You up for a phone call? I’d like to hear that sweet little voice without all that music.

Your stomach lurched up to your throat, and you started to feel incredibly warm despite your sleep shorts, oversized tee, and the AC blasting over your head. You looked over to Natalie’s unmade bed. She likely wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning. A little phone call wouldn’t hurt.

You: Sure. One sec.

joel's pov

A small smirk pulled to the side of his mouth as he pulled back the curtain to look through his scope into your room. Joel was set up in an abandoned dorm across the courtyard. Temporary until the recon team set up cameras, and he could finally go back to his own bed.

You paced around your room, looking at your phone. Visibly nervous as you gave yourself a pep talk. Fuck, you were cute.

The past few weeks, he’d been assigned to you. Keeping an eye on you for Don Sierpente. A nice change of pace from breaking kneecaps and cutting off fingers. His usual mark was easy. Kill or send a message. Make it look like an accident. You, however, were a particular case. He wasn’t supposed to hurt you. In fact, he was supposed to make sure no harm came to you until Don was ready for his move. Keep his distance until his orders suddenly changed this past weekend.

“Get close to her,” Tommy ordered, playing liaison for Don. “We need her to trust you.”

Trust me? The girl was naive, not stupid. But I’d play. Could be fun.

As usual, he had eyes on you while you were at your desk that evening, nibbling on a pen and tapping your foot. You kept making little notes from your forensic psychology textbook. Wearing an oversized t-shirt and cute little pajama shorts, you looked good enough to eat.

“Call me, you sweet little thing,” he murmured, just loud enough for his brother, Tommy, to hear. He rolled his shoulders, raising his eyes to look at Joel, lips tilted downward in a displeased grimace.

Joel's phone rang and he lifted it to his ear, answering, “Joel.”

“H-Hey, um…this is, uh I was just texting you,” your cute voice whispered nervously over the phone.

He could feel his dimple puncture his cheek as his grin widened. “I know. Salutations.”

“Oh, dear God,” you muttered with audible embarrassment.

Your anxious little breaths were endearing. Joel was tempted to stay quiet and wait to see how long it took until you crumbled, babbling about something just to fill the silence.

“So, uh, about the salutations thing. That was an accident.” You twirled a loose tendril of hair around your finger, pacing back and forth in a circle. He liked that, even from a distance, he could watch you squirm.

“You mean you don’t send salutations as a greeting to everyone?” He already knew the answer to that when he got the text and saw you smash your palm into your forehead.

You laughed nervously. “Ha. Yeah…uh, I was supposed to delete that. But it sent so I gave up on getting a text back.”

“Gave up that quick, huh?” Joel teased. “Shame.”

“About five seconds from deleting your contact too.”

Joel gave a mock gasp. “Wow, darlin’, that’s just cruel.”

You made a cute-sounding giggle, finally warming up a little bit. He glanced over at his brother, clearly distracting himself with a text—probably from Eli—before he put his phone down and made a motion to cut the call. Joel rolled his eyes at him, turning away completely.

“Hey, baby girl, I actually have to go. Bossman is walking in.”

The pet name took you off guard, but he liked the way you paced when you were nervous and how you twirled your hair. “Okay. Nice talking to you?” you said more like a question like you weren't sure how to end the call.

“Definitely. I could fall asleep listening to that sweet little voice.” Or jerk off to it, but he wasn’t going to say that. “Talk to you later.”

He hung up, arching a brow at Tommy. “What?”

“Babygirl? Really?” he inquired, crossing his arms.

“You’d like her, Tommy. Just your type,” he smirked. “And if she’s your type, then you know she’s mine.”

“The last time you dated a woman you were attracted to, she turned out to be a raging psychopath,” Tommy commented.

“Exactly. You have better taste in women,” he winked. He raised the scope to get one last eyeful of you before Tommy told him whatever he had to say.

“She’s undressing right now,” Joel baited. You weren’t. It wouldn’t have bothered him, but he knew it bothered Tommy. And it was always fun to fuck with him. Tommy's eyebrows furrowed, frown deepening. Always fucking frowning. Always pissed off.

“You want a peek? She’s got the assets.”

Suddenly, Tommy stood up and ripped the scope out of his hands. “She’s a mark. Not your personal peep show,” he practically hissed.

“You’re telling me that the Don wants me to get close to her, but not fuck her?”

“For the love of God, don’t fuck her. She’s the congressman’s daughter. We’re only watching her as insurance that he’ll follow through with his promise to rule in our favor. Then we leave.”

Well, that was a fucking contradiction. Why would Joel have to get close to her if he had to watch her? “What if she fucks me?”

“For fuck’s sake, Joel.” Tommy pinched his nose in frustration. “Drop it.”

He leaned back, pleased by Tommy's reaction. “She’s been my mark for three weeks and you don’t even know what she looks like.” Joel took a pack of smokes out of his jeans pocket, lighting up right in the room. “Humor me. See for yourself how fucking cute she is.”

“No,” Tommy hissed.

“Why? Do you think you’ll get attached?” Joel pouted his lower lip. “I know you have a soft spot for soft spoken women. I thought you were supposed to be the big bad Tommy Miller and now you won’t even look in the direction of a mark? You’re not even the least bit curious why the Don has his eye on her?”

Joel was baiting him and he knew it. He didn’t even know why he did this, but he liked getting under Tommy's skin. It proved that he still had a heart after all the shit that happened to them. He wasn’t like Joel and he shouldn’t be. He carried all that weight for them so no one else had to feel it. All that stress could break a man down.

Tommy sighed, sitting back down at the table, and taking Joel's scope with him. “Why do you think you were assigned to this?”

Joel raised his eyebrows. “Enlighten me. Why wasn’t Eli assigned for babysitting duty?”

“Because he would start to feel bad about her. You, on the other hand, don’t feel much of anything,” he said.

He was right. The only attachments he had were Tommy and Eli, his brothers. Part of him wondered what it would be like to care. A small little part of him ached for those attachments. But most of him didn’t give a fuck unless it gave him something he wanted.

“Speaking of, he’s flying back from Mexico next week,” Tommy explained.

“About fucking time. I missed the empathetic asshole,” Joel commented. Eli was too nice for this line of work. He wasn’t a good fit for the cartel, but he was trapped in this arrangement. So was Joel. So was Tommy.

They were Don Sierpiente’s lapdogs and there wasn’t jack shit they could do about it. Til the day they died, the old fuck owned them. Tommy at least had enough sense to make himself indispensable. And if Tommy was indispensable, so were the rest of them. Package deal. The Miller brothers. They were a package deal in many parts of life.

Tommy nodded, deep in thought. He didn’t like it when Eli was sent over the border because he never knew if he’d come back. He was sure Eli could handle himself just fine, but Tommy practically raised them, so he still sees Eli as the thirteen-year-old jackass who moved the neighbor’s gnome every morning to make her think it was moving on its own. And Tommy, being eighteen and struggling to help mom make ends meet at the time, felt like he needed to protect Eli from every little thing. Of course, good ol’ Eli doesn’t help his case when he still plays tricks all these years later.

Tommy got up from his seat, still pissed off. This time, not at Joel, it was at whoever was messaging him. Not that he would ever tell Joel what was really going on. Tommy was still trying to protect his brothers. Joel would find it endearing if it didn’t annoy him so much.

“I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later,” Tommy said as he left before Joel could get a word in. But, he’d done his part. Now Joel just had to watch the pieces fall into place.

your pov

Time for coffee. Your caffeine fix. You were up all night studying for some bullshit math test that had nothing to do with your major, but it was a requirement. Sure, you can remember obscure terms or exactly what someone was wearing at brunch four years ago. But math? Your Achilles heel. So now you had to wake back up before you went to the class you actually liked. You just hoped you survived math long enough to get the credit for your transcript and never have to do an equation ever again.

Your phone buzzed.

Tucking your book under your arm, you reached into your pocket to see a missed message from Joel. You'd only met him a week ago, but you really enjoyed texting him. Your lips quirked into a smile when you saw it.

Joel: Hey, do you want to get a drink with me?

You: Tonight? I can’t. I have a morning class tomorrow.

Joel: That’s a shame.

Your stomach twisted because you did want to get a drink with him. He made you nervous in a good way and…he intrigued you.

You: Tomorrow?

Joel: Tomorrow is good.

Say something flirty.

You: Maybe I’ll let you buy me a drink.

Oh yeah. Hook, line, and sinker. You could pat yourself on the back for that one.

Joel: What else would you let me do?

Instantly, your entire body was hot. You could hear that sentence in his voice. That deep, sexy voice that made your knees wobble when you talked to him on the phone. That sweet-talker. But you'd be lying if you said you didn’t like it. You like how your belly flushed with heat. What would you let him do to you?

You: Buy a girl dinner first, Joel.

You giggled to yourself at that one, shifting foot to foot, still walking toward that coffee shop without a care as to where you were going.

Joel: I’ll take you up on that, baby girl.

Why did you like that? Never once had you ever liked being called baby girl or doll or sweetheart or any pet name, but when Joel said it so nonchalantly on the phone, your thighs tingled. Wetness pooled in your panties, and you didn’t understand why you liked it so much. Joel was an anomaly to you. He drew you in. Sent little shivers down your spine. Whether it was danger or attraction, you weren't quite sure. You were still trying to pinpoint exactly what it was about him. Maybe it was his absolute certainty in himself. The arrogance you could hear in his voice. He knew who he was, and you were still trying to find that out about yourself. Maybe you envied it a little bit. You had this urge to absorb some of that certainty.

Really, it didn’t surprise you. You were a psychology major and therefore hyperaware of how your parents influenced your childhood. You dissect people based on their walk, the flicker in their eyes, and the fluctuations in their voices. You could read just about anyone. Except for Joel. His mannerisms contradicted themselves. He’d say one thing with complete conviction while his body language said something else entirely. You wanted to get into his head and figure out what he was thinking. That came from your mother. She was an alcoholic talk show host who knew what buttons to press to make the best TV. Your father knew how to manipulate people to get what he wanted. A match made in Hell. That’s why they’re divorced.

Some divorced kids would be excited to have two versions of holidays, but while your dad spoiled you rotten, your mother forgot you existed. She’d forget birthdays. Important events. Always absent. Always drunk. Months, you were trapped in her condo, wondering if you'd find her body, finally worn to nothing from years of substance abuse. You would wake up on Christmas day to find her intoxicated on the kitchen floor, knife in her hand, in a pool of her own sick. You never knew what she planned to do with that knife. Was it for you? Or for her?

She’d tell you she was fine. That she wouldn’t relapse again. You had to protect yourself from her. No child should ever have to protect themselves from their parents. She was always lying. Eventually, your dad got full custody of you. He wasn’t much better, but at least you knew he loved you in his own way.

Unfortunately, he overcorrected. And manipulated to “keep you safe”. Your dad was a master manipulator. Your childhood was in the confines of homeschooling and avoiding paparazzi. But the love child of a politician and a public TV personality made for a complicated childhood. It only got worse as you started to grow up. You became anti-social. Cautious. You're still trying to unlearn the survival mechanisms you taught yourself. The flinching and the shaking. The “shut up and smile,” mentality.

Now you were free from your father’s legal ownership of you, but there was only so much behavior you could correct. And that’s why you have an uncanny ability to know when people are lying to you. You swear you're too fucking observant for your own good.

And just as that thought crossed your mind, you ran face-first into an incredibly firm chest. The man’s coffee went flying, saturating a white dress shirt. Your phone propelled across the sidewalk. And your textbook skidded over and tripped a student who got caught up in your acute sense of observation.

“I’m so sorry!” you gasp, trying to salvage his coffee cup, but it’s toast. You didn’t even look up at him as you went for your textbook. Black slacks appeared in front of your vision as he helped you gather your stuff. The first thing you noticed was scarred knuckles. The second thing, his voice.

“It’s fine.”

Your face was boiling. You can’t believe you just did that. Why do you even go outside? His scarred hands outstretched your book and phone to you. You took them, sheepishly looking up into deep eyes. “Thank you,” you said, tucking some of your hair behind your ears. This man couldn’t have been a student. He wore a suit jacket, also stained with coffee. “Your jacket,” you gasped, now seeing the damage you caused. “Oh no. Can I do anything?”

His nose had clearly been broken a few times. His thick dark hair had a few streaks of gray through it, aging him slightly, but you only found yourself more attracted to him. He shrugged his jacket off and you got an eyeful of a soaked shirt clinging to his toned body.

Good Lord.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just get another,” he commented offhandedly.

You felt like you had to do something. You did just completely destroy his shirt. “Please, at least let me get you another coffee. I feel awful.”

He rolled his shoulders and you swear your mouth watered a little bit. First you ran into Joel last week and now you run into another stunningly gorgeous man? “If you insist,” was all he said. But you felt like his lack of speech only made whatever he didn’t say much louder. His mouth was curved downward into a rather aggressive scowl which would typically send anyone else running away, but his shoulders were slack, relaxed. The unconscious language put you more at ease than his face did. You wondered if perhaps the grimace was a defence mechanism. Perhaps developed at a young age–

Stop psychoanalysing everyone. Get it together!

You greeted him abruptly stating your name, outstretching your hand to shake his in greeting. He looked at your hand but didn’t take it. You tried not to take that personally.

“Really?”

You babbled nervously, explaining why you were named what you were named. He watched you closely, still not smiling, but his tongue curved against the inside of his cheek, making it just out a little in an expression you translated as amusement. “I’m Tommy.”

“Well, let’s go get you that coffee, Tommy. I probably already made you late for your meeting.” You tucked your book under your arm, pocketing your phone to not distract yourself anymore. The student you tripped with your book gave you a death glare as you mouthed, “Sorry.”

“Meeting?” Tommy asked.

“Do you wear suits for fun?” you commented, your favorite coffee shop coming into view.

He shrugged. “Not particularly. I work in the area, but I don’t have an office job.”

“Oh, what do you do?”

“Finance,” he stated without missing a beat. A slight fall in his voice. An alteration in his speech pattern. An odd thing to lie about, but he also hadn’t talked long enough for you to determine his speech pattern.

“Oh?”

He diverted the conversation, another indication he was lying. You felt the urge to prod, but you didn’t know this man. Why he was lying was none of your business. Maybe he was sneaking around. Or cheating on his wife. You glanced down at his hands. No ring. Not married. Unless he took it off, but you didn’t see a tan line either.

“Are you a student here?” Tommy asked, keeping his tone neutral.

“Yeah, I’m in my second year. Studying psychology with a focus on criminal psychology.”

“Busy girl then,” he commented, but for some reason it made your insides twist. You felt hyperaware of his gaze. It felt curious even if his scowl said otherwise. People can rarely hide the truth in their eyes.

You chuckled, trying to sound at ease even though your body was twisting and tightening against your control. “That’s me. Busy. Busy.”

There wasn’t a long line at the coffee shop as you went up to the counter and ordered your usual. Iced coffee and a cream cheese danish. You went absolutely feral for their danishes. Homemade and always warm. Your favorite snack between classes. Tommy spoke his order. Medium coffee black. Nothing to dress it up.

“Have you tried their danishes?” you asked, gesturing to the glass case. “I’ll buy you one. They’ll change your life.”

The cashier laughed. “High praise from you.”

His eyebrow twitched and he said, “Fine. I’ll take a strawberry one.”

“Excellent choice,” the cashier stated as he started to get the order ready.

“Tap your chip when you’re ready.”

You nodded, pulling your wallet out of your pocket, but Tommy beat you to it, swiping a platinum credit card. “Hey!” you objected. “Let me get that for you.”

“I have more than enough money. I’m not letting a college kid buy me anything,” Tommy started with a complete monotone.

You brushed some of your unruly hair back. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he shrugged. The cashier came back with your orders and Tommy handed you your coffee and danish. His fingertips brushed yours and small shocks erupted up your arm, leaving tingles prickling the hair on your arms. “Consider this a gift.”

You raised both your eyebrows, brushing off the addicting sensation tingling your arms. “For dumping hot coffee all over you?”

The corner of his full lips curled up for a fraction of a second before it was gone. “For the conversation.”

Your breath escaped your lungs and you stood there completely dumbfounded. “You’re welcome.”

“Now,” he held up his paper sack housing a delicious danish, “this danish better change my life.”

“It will,” you promised.

His eyes flickered. “Nice talking to you.”

“You too, Tommy,” you murmured, liking the way his name sounded. Coating your tongue like golden syrup. He nodded and turned away, exiting the coffee shop without another word. Your eyes were glued to him as he left, helplessly gliding down his back to his waist and thighs.

“Huh,” you muttered to yourself as you brought your danish to your lips and took a bite. Flavor exploded across your tongue. Tangy. Creamy. Buttery. Yum. You looked over at the cashier and shouted, “You’ve outdone yourself, Steve!”

The cashier shot you a smile and waved you goodbye as you left. Thankfully, you still had a little time before class to enjoy your coffee.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller fanfiction #tommy miller #tlou #pedro pascal fanfiction

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youunravelme · 10 months

Text

to all the girls you've loved before part 5

author's note: this might be the softest part out of all of them? sorry for the wait, i hope the fluff makes up for it. :)

pairing: single dad!mat barzal x reader

summary: being a nanny for rich people was probably the worst thing that ever happened to you, until you started working for mat.

warnings: children, rich people, very volatile/toxic relationship

day forty-four

"does this look okay?" mat popped his head in your room where you were sitting on your bed with a book in your lap.

"you look like you normally do."

he ran a hand down his face. "i mean, is it appropriate to wear to a doctor's appointment?"

oh shit.

you forgot.

you jumped off the bed and ran into the walk in closet.

"did you forget?" mat teased. any sign of insecurity at his outfit choice disappeared when you sprinted into the closet.

"would you believe me if i said no?"

he laughed. "not a chance." he cleared his throat. "let me go wake ella up and get her ready."

you pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater as well as thick socks and shoes. you walked out, nearly running into mat and ella in the hallway.

ella immediately perked up at seeing you and reached for you while mat rolled his eyes.

"can't believe she loves you more."

"i'm with her all day," you quipped. but the second the words left your mouth, you were backpedaling. "not to say that you're an absent father!" you amended. "i just mean that i live here and i take care of her when you're not here, so she sees me more and--"

mat's laughter cut you off. he placed a strong hand on your shoulder and squeezed. "i didn't take it that way, relax." and like nothing happened, he continued down the hall to the living room.

a sigh escaped your lips the second his touch was gone.

it was another ten minutes before the three of you left. originally, you were stunned that he asked you to join him in the first place, but when mat explained how confused he and tito were for that the first doctor's appointment, it made more sense.

everyone needed an emotional support friend.

you had a whole crew of them help move you out of your old apartment.

even the thought of that day made you want to tear up again. you'd never been one for having a large group of friends, usually just a close few. but after graduating college, after your school friends moved away from the city, somewhere along the way, you stopped picking up your phone to text them.

which was how you landed in your former apartment with natalie. she was a friend of a friend, and easy enough to live with.

until she fucked your boyfriend.

so when mat, tito, sydney, and marty all helped you move out? even after only knowing the latter two for less than twenty-four hours?

they put your old friends to shame.

"what's going on in that mind of yours?" mat asked. "you got quiet." you shrugged. "oh come on, you're thinking about something! i can see the wheels turning in your head."

"you sound like my mother."

mat guffawed and laughed at the same time in a sound that you wanted to commit to memory. "your mother? should i be offended?"

you smiled despite yourself. "she's alright."

"she must be if she raised you."

you crossed your arms. "you're such a flatterer."

"only for you."

you ignored the weird fluttering sensation in your gut and rolled your eyes. "wait till i tell tito that you like me more."

mat groaned and ran a hand over his mouth. "please don't, i get enough shit from him as it is."

interesting.

you turned in your seat to face him a little more. "and what shit would he be giving the great mathew barzal? spending too long on your hair? being too talented? having too many female fans?"

as you came to a stoplight, mat rubbed the back of his neck, looking increasingly more uncomfortable with your line of questioning. "not necessarily..." he trailed off.

but you ignored his signs of hesitancy and kept pressing on. "i bet it's about you being a dilf."

if the car was moving, you'd bet money that mat would've slammed on the brakes. but you were currently still sitting at the stoplight, so he just looked at you with an expression that boarded on shocked and horrified.

"a what?"

"surely, you know what a dilf is, mat."

he sputtered. "i mean i uh know what it is--"

"then why are you so flustered?" you asked, leaning on the center console.

"just wasn't expecting you to say that is all."

"i'm sure you and your teammates have said worse in the locker room."

"yeah but that's them and you're you and--" he cut himself off and chose to wave his hands in the air like that action alone would fill in the blanks.

"and what?"

mat accelerated as the light turned green. "i just didn't know you saw me that way."

you shrugged and sat back in your seat, ignoring the way your heart raced at the way the conversation took a turn. "don't tell me i'm the first person to say you're attractive, mat."

"well, no, but--"

"so what's the big deal? it's just me."

mat shrugged. "exactly. it's you."

you froze momentarily, but tried to brush his comment off like it didn't send a shiver down your spine.

the both of you were silent for the rest of the ride.

when you got to the doctor's office, both you and mat got out, with mat offering to carry ella into the building. though, the three of you made it twenty feet before ella was whining for you.

"my own child likes you more," he grumbled.

you just laughed.

the waiting room was semi full when the three of you walked in, but mat was the only dad in sight.

he leaned down towards you with a hand on the small of your back. "i'll go check us in if you'll find us a seat."

you did as he asked and ignored the way you could feel his touch long after he walked away. you and ella found a seat in a corner away from most of the women and children there. did you look antisocial? maybe just a little, but you weren't taking chances of ella or yourself getting sick, and you sure as hell weren't taking a chance on mat's health with the season in full swing.

"didn't want to sit with the other families?" mat asked as he took the seat next to you.

"i don't know those people, why would i sit next to them? they could be sick."

mat nodded along. "fair enough."

the three of you only waited a few minutes before ella's name was called. you stood up but it was mat who gestured for you to lead, again, with his hand on your back guiding you.

the nurse took a few vitals before taking the three of you back to the room. "the doctor will be with you shortly," she said before leaving you, mat, and ella alone.

it wasn't long before you heard another knock on the door and the doctor came in. she greeted the three of you before getting right down to business, directing you to place ella on the table.

doctor stevenson took ella's vitals while she wriggled around and reached for you and mat. "vitals look good," she said. "now she does need to have a few vaccines today..." the doctor kept talking but you were focused on mat.

specifically how all the color drained from his face.

you placed your hand on his back and directed him to one of the open chairs in the room, scared he might pass out if he stayed standing.

"is everything alright?" the doctor asked.

mat sat down and exhaled. "are you sure she has to get shots today?"

doctor stevenson's face looked grim. "do you not like needles or...?"

"i don't like seeing my daughter cry," he admitted.

"that's completely normal for parents," the doctor assured him. "if you'd like, you can stay out in the hall and we'll let you know when we're done. should only take a few minutes, if that."

you weren't listening to the doctor though, your eyes were focused on mat's face. a deep set frown worked its way onto his lips and you hated it. you reached out and touched his shoulder. "i can stay with her, if you don't wanna be in the room," you said.

his eyes met yours; for a man as confident as he was, you'd never seen him so hesitant. "last time she got shots, it about broke me."

"that's okay," you said. "i'll be here if you wanna step outside. i'll still be here if you wanna stay."

he nodded and stood up. for a second, you thought he'd make his way to the door, but he stood by the table and kissed the top of ella's head. "it's gonna be okay, ella bean," he mumbled.

doctor stevenson looked at you before pulling out the needles. you saw how mat kept eyeing them in the corner of his eye, but kept his focus on ella who was babbling like nothing was going on.

it took a few seconds after the first injection before the water works started. ella's cry sounded throughout the room but instead of looking at her, your eyes were focused on mat.

he was completely enraptured by ella, whispering soft things to her in an attempt to soothe her.

"it's okay, ella. dada's here," he whispered. "it's okay."

she kept crying despite the calm voice mat was using. she was twisting towards him and away from the doctor.

"just one more," doctor stevenson said. and in a minute, she was finished.

but ella wasn't.

the second the needle was pulled out and the band aids were placed, mat was picking ella up and cradling her to his chest. she wailed and wailed, only calming down when mat was bouncing her and speaking softly in her ear.

you halfway listened to doctor stevenson talk about what percentile of weight and height ella was in, half of your attention was focused on the gentle way mat was holding his daughter and how his arms, as strong as they were, protected his child from the big, bad, scary needles.

you were free to follow the nurse out the door to checkout. mat refused to let go of ella, so you were the one scheduling the next appointment and entering it into your shared google calendar.

ella was still hiccuping from the crying by the time the three of you got to the car. mat strapped her in while you got in the front seat and looked through the paperwork they gave you.

"everything look alright?" mat asked as he got in his seat and locked the doors.

"yeah, she's right as rain. i added the next appointment to our calendar."

mat hummed.

"what?" you asked.

"our calendar?"

"we share a calendar, mat. that was your idea, if you recall." you weren't about to be embarrassed about something he initiated. why would you? it's just a calendar, not something with an underlying meaning.

"i know," he smiled. "i just like the sound of it, is all." he put the car in reverse and placed his hand on your headrest.

"weirdo," you mumbled to compensate for the fact that you also liked referring to something as mundane as a calendar as ours.

mat scoffed. "i'm not the weirdo. you're the weirdo."

"oh please, i have an entire roster of your teammates that would say otherwise."

"you would trust their word over mine?"

you shrugged. "majority rules."

you didn't think someone could roll their eyes as hard as mat did in that moment.

the three of you got home a few minutes later. mat was in charge of getting ella while you grabbed his keys. you both waved to the doorman and headed up to your shared apartment.

god, you loved saying that more than you probably should.

"are you still going out with syd later?" mat called after you when you got into the apartment. you were headed back to your room while he was putting ella in the play pin.

you stripped out of your clothes and changed into something more comfortable. "yeah!" you called back, walking back down the hallway to the living room. "why?"

"tito and anders invited me out for drinks, so i'll need to find a babysitter."

"i can ask grace if she knows anyone--"

"don't. i'm the one who needs the sitter, it's my responsibility, not yours."

ella babbled in what you assumed was agreement.

later that day, you heard mat getting ready in his room while you got dressed in yours with ella playing on the floor with her toys. you weren't dressed in anything too fancy, just a nice black dress that had been sitting in the back of your old closet because your roommate said it was "too slutty for someone who has a boyfriend."

then she went and fucked your boyfriend, so you couldn't really say you gave a shit about her opinion anymore.

you strapped some heels on and gave yourself a once over in the mirror, fluffing your hair when it looked too flat. you scooped ella up and made a mental note to bring her toys out to her play pin later when you got back.

if you could even walk straight.

you weren't planning on getting shitfaced, but does anyone over the age of 23 ever plan on it?

you carried ella down the hallway and into the living room where mat sat on the couch on his phone with espn playing on the tv.

"i thought you'd eventually get tired of all the sports talk," you commented.

mat didn't even look up, he just liked a random person's photo. "it's nice background noise. besides, they're talking about sports other than just hockey."

"right." you walked in front of him to put ella in her play pin, your heels clicking on the hardwood. it wasn't until you turned around that you saw him staring. "what?"

mat cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "nothing! you just look...nice."

you smiled. "thank you! syd should be here any minute now. where did i put my phone..." your voice trailed off as you looked around for your cell phone.

"it's on the coffee table," mat said. and low and behold, it was. "do you have a coat? it's supposed to get cold tonight."

you nodded and headed to the coat closet beside the front door. you grabbed the black peacoat you had since college and tried to put it on before a pair of hands stopped you.

"let me help," was all mat said as he held the coat open for you. it took you a second to register what he was saying, he had to clear his throat to get you to snap back to reality.

"thanks," you said as you put your arms in the sleeves. your phone started ringing a second later, sydney's contact photo taking over your screen. "are you sure you don't want me to wait until she gets here?" you asked, talking about the babysitter. "i can help explain ella's routine!"

but mat rolled his eyes and herded you closer to the door. ""i'll be fine, go have fun!"

"if you need me, text me."

he gave you an award winning smile. "if you need me, call me."

you nodded and walked out, picking up the phone as mat locked the door behind you. "hey, i'm on my way down."

"great! i have an uber waiting for us."

you walked a little faster to the elevator, determined to not let the uber run up more money than was necessary, despite the fact that sydney was not strapped for cash.

you made it down quickly and without busting your ass on the polished floor.

sydney was waiting in a black suv like she was some government official in a marvel movie. she popped the back door open when she saw you and smiled. "you look fantastic!" she said once you got inside the vehicle.

you looked over her outfit which wasn't too dissimilar to yours, just not as revealing. "grace is joining us, hope that's okay!"

you nodded, vaguely recalling meeting anders' wife when jason had that meltdown in front of everyone.

not the best first impression, you hoped tonight would make her forget about that first night.

grace met you and sydney at a bar about twenty minutes away from yours and mat's apartment. she smiled as the two of you got out of the car, hugging you instead of shaking your proffered hand.

"it's great to see you again," she said. "you look fantastic."

"so do you!" you replied.

the three of you walked into the bar and were immediately greeted by loud music and an enormous crowd. you pushed your way through the people and ended up in front of the bar.

"get what you want!" sydney yelled over the music. "it's on me, tonight."

it didn't seem like a lot, but when you thought back to how jason and natalie both would conveniently go out with you on nights when they were broke, and then proceed to ask you to fund their near alcohol addiction? you were immensely grateful. if you were a pettier woman, you would've venmoed natalie and jason for the money they owe you in drinks alone.

but you were moving on, making peace with your new situation, your job, your new friends.

and mat.

you weren't sure what category to put him in yet.

"boss" seemed too professional. "friend" didn't seem heavy enough.

"what're you having?" the bartender's question snapped you out of your reflective moment. you gave him the order and watched as he started to make it.

your drink was in front of you after you waited for a few minutes. you sipped at it while walking to the table grace had picked out.

"so how's it going, living with mat?" grace asked as soon as you walked up.

you shrugged lightly. "not as bad as i thought it would be. i was expecting it to be awkward, but it's just been nice not to have to wake up as early to go to work."

sydney nodded. "matt told me barzy looks happier since you moved in."

"anders too," grace added. "my husband said he needs to 'meet this girl who has barzy smiling like a fool.'"

you flushed at their statements. "he's a good guy," was all you said.

sydney and grace were talking amongst themselves while you bopped your head to the music playing. you supped on your drink when a familiar head of hair caught you eye. it was followed by another familiar head of hair. you were squinting, trying to remember where you'd seen them before when they turned around your heart stopped.

jason and natalie.

you choked on your drink which caught sydney and grace's attention.

"are you okay?" sydney asked. she only grew more concerned when you threw your drink back, the alcohol barely burning your throat in comparison to the pain in your chest.

"i'm gonna get some shots," you said before stumbling to the bar. you ordered four shots of vodka and downed them all in succession at the bar top, and then doing your best to get back to the table afterwards.

your heart was pounding as you saw them cozied up in a booth. you wanted to vomit. you wanted to cry. you wanted to go over there and pour their drinks on their heads.

but mostly, you just wanted to go home.

but you couldn't. not when the night was still young. not when you were still feeling sober. you'd stupidly thought that the four shots would get you drunk quickly because you forgot that metabolisms exist.

you did your best to keep up with the conversation grace and sydney were having, and it was clear they were trying to include you. but your gaze kept drifting to how happy jason and natalie looked. and wondering how long they'd gone on dates when you were busy working, how many times did the sleep together before you caught them? you wondered if they were in love? or if it was just lust.

you wondered what made you so unloveable that he'd cheat on you. you wondered how despicable of a person you were that your roommate would agree to it.

you weren't drunk enough for this.

you excused yourself from the table again to get another drink. as you waited, you tapped your fingers on the bar, humming to the top 40s playlist playing over the speakers.

"can i get a jack and coke?" that voice sent a shiver down your spine in the worst way. you hesitantly turned your head and saw jason standing next to you, thankfully with natalie nowhere in sight. you didn't know what you'd do if they were both there with you in that moment.

he must've felt your stare because he turned his head and made eye contact. his jaw clenched a little before his lips curved into a sly smirk. "well look what the cat dragged out," he said. "where is he?"

you blinked.

"c'mon. like you don't know who i'm talking about?" when you didn't say anything, he rolled his eyes. "barzal. where is he?" jason glanced around the bar. "because i don't see him anywhere."

"why would he be here? mat's not my boyfriend."

"right, he's just letting you stay with him for free because he's such a good person," he teased.

maybe it was the shot placed in front of you. maybe it was the other four shots kicking in. but you downed the drink, wiped your mouth and shot back at him. "he's a better person than you could ever hope to be."

"he'll get bored of you eventually. people always do," jason scoffed. "you're his nanny, for fuck's sake. if you're not fucking him, he'll realize he could get better pussy and a better looking face from literally any other girl in new york. and once he realizes that, you'll be homeless and jobless."

you shook your head, willing the stinging in your eyes to go away. "he's not like you, jason."

"he's not gonna fall in love with you. you're a no good bitch who didn't know what she had when she had it. and i'm glad we're done, natalie is a thousand times more interesting than you could ever hope to be." with that, he turned on his heel with his shitty drink and walked back to his booth.

you walked back to your table but before you could even register the water running down your face, sydney was pulling you into her arms as you sobbed.

"sweetheart what's wrong?"

you could barely get the words out to tell her, but as soon as you did, she was pulling you back and looking you in the eyes. "i'm gonna call mat, is that okay?"

"please call him," you said. sydney brought you back into her chest with one arm while her other hand dialed mat.

"mat! hey!" she said with an overly cheery voice. "are you busy?"

just the sound of his voice, even if it was sounded like a small whisper, made you feel a little safer. she continued to talk to him through the phone until she hung up and hugged you tighter.

"he'll be here soon and take you home, okay?"

you nodded into her shoulder and cried a little more. "i'm sorry for ruining your night."

sydney squeezed you a little closer. "it's not your fault. your ex is a piece of shit."

mat must've texted syd a few minutes later because she was ushering you out of the bar to stand on the sidewalk.

it was a matter of seconds before mat pulled up and hopped out of his car looking like a man on a mission. in a blink of an eye you were being pulled out of sydney's arms (or maybe she was pushing you) and into his.

you could've sworn your life made a little more sense right then and there.

"mat--" you sobbed. "i--i can't--" and to be honest, you weren't quite sure what you meant to say, words weren't stringing themselves together like they usually do. maybe you were trying to say you couldn't keep doing this, or that you couldn't understand why he still kept you around.

it could be a million things.

but he kissed the top of your head and your brain was silenced. "let's get you home, okay?"

mat put you in the car and held your hand the entire way home, stroking his thumb on the back of your hand in a way jason never did.

jason.

you wanted to vomit but the interior of mat's car was too nice and he already ditched his friends for you, the least you could do was keep it together.

"do you wanna talk about it?" he asked.

you shook your head no, so he squeezed your hand.

when you finally got back to the apartment, you stood in the living room in a catatonic state while mat paid the babysitter and ushered her out. the second the front door closed, he was by your side, taking your hand, and leading you to the bathroom where he turned on the shower. when he made a move to leave, you grabbed his hand.

"i'm just gonna grab you some clothes, i'll be right back."

he was back in thirty seconds with one of his shirts and a pair of sweats. you were brought back to the first night you slept over after your relationship blew up. you should've smiled and said thank you, you should've said you appreciated all mat had done.

but you just burst into more tears.

mat knelt in front of you, wiping the tears as fast as they came. "hey, what's wrong?"

before you could even stop and think, you were launching yourself into his arms and wrapping your own around his shoulders. he didn't even hesitate to hold you back as tightly as he could.

"you're okay," he said. "i'll be right outside when you're done, alright?"

you nodded against his shoulder and hesitantly pulled away. mat seemed just as reluctant to let you go, but the steam fogging the mirror reminded you both that there was a line you hadn't (and maybe shouldn't) cross.

mat shut the bathroom door behind him and you stripped out of your clothes.

it was the fastest shower you'd ever taken in your life.

true to his word, mat was outside the bathroom door when you were finished in a set of sweats he wasn't wearing before. he looked up from his phone and held his arms out, and for what felt like the fiftieth time (though that still did not feel like enough), you were in his arms again.

"let's get you to bed," he mumbled into your hair before placing another kiss there.

before you could stop yourself, you mumbled back. "can i sleep with you tonight?"

mat froze.

hell, you froze.

neither of you knew what to do.

but a minute later he was pulling away. you felt the tears well up in your eyes at the thought of him rejecting you, but what did you honestly expect? him to say yes? you moved to go down the hall to your room, but his grip on your hand stopped you.

"c'mon," was all he said.

up until this moment, you'd never been in mat's room. it was about what you expected, king bed in the middle of the room, a dresser, a few clothes strewn about. it looked lived in.

mat got in the bed first and extended his arms to you. it was like he was the center of the earth, pulling you in with such a strong gravitational pull, you stood no chance to resist it.

you were curled up against his chest a beat later.

"thank you," you said.

"anytime," he said against your hair.

your head was placed right over his chest where his heart beat loudly. the sound of it began lulling you to sleep.

it should've been a picturesque moment, but it was tainted by the lingering anxiety in the back of your mind.

was jason right? was this a bad decision? would mat kick you out if you never have sex with him? would he kick you out if you did?

but then mat started running a hand over your hair and down your back repeatedly, and all your worries disappeared.

you'd have more time to think about that tomorrow.

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