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#tea kettle series
keepontalking · 1 year
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Employees: Kirk wants Mon to come back to work. I saw them at a restaurant once. That must mean that Kirk is cheating with Mon!
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betweentimeand42 · 7 months
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This morning I read Twin Peaks: The Final Dossier since I found it at the library recently and checked it out on a whim, and that plunged me into revisitingThe Return, and somehow, that eventually triggered this ridiculous image that I can't get out of my head: Phillip Jeffries sitting inside the tea kettle singing, in David Bowie's voice, "I'm a Little Teapot."
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inkbybambi · 6 months
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bodyguard!simon riley who takes a bullet for you —
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words: 2.9k rating: e warnings: nightmares, guns/shooting, gunshot wound, hospitals, smut, creampie, cunnilingus, mentions of threats against reader, threat against reader, lowercase writing — please let me know if i missed any! notes: 18+ content, minors dni. warnings have been provided.
he's been assigned to you for two-ish years now. you weren't thrilled at first, and neither was he — but he didn't make it as obvious as you did.
"i don't need a babysitter," you had damn-near hissed when he was introduced.
"i wasn't hired to be one," he counters coolly, which only serves to irritate you further.
actively ignoring his presence — as much as you could when your company moved him into your apartment — even though you begrudgingly made room in the counters and fridge for his things, even going as far as investing into a better kettle so he could make his tea and clearing out an entire cabinet for all his tea, sugar, and steeper.
he trails you quietly as he was hired to; keeping close enough to always have you in his sights but far enough away that people wouldn't be able to clock his association to you — or so he thought.
six months into his contract with you — an unknown amount of time left, as price never answered and soon he stopped asking — he wakes in the middle of the night from a scream he never thought would come from you.
he rushes into your bedroom, gun in hand with his finger resting on the side and not the trigger. the front door is locked as he had left it, windows unbroken. he almost thinks he might've associated it with one of his own nightmares, until he sees you.
curled in on yourself, face tucked into your knees, fingers threaded through your hair as you struggle to breathe properly, hiccups and sobs breaking between your stuttered breaths.
he knocks gently on your door, not wanting to startle you. you jump just a little, regardless, but lift your head to look at him.
"'m sorry," you mumble, voice rough, "i didn't mean to wake you."
and you hadn't. you thought you were done with these awful nightmares, the ones gnawing at the edges of your mind during the day.
"'s'alright," he replies, tucking the gun into the waistband of his sleep shorts, walking carefully towards your bed. "you okay?"
the look he receives damn near breaks his heart.
he learns, that night, that an attempt had been made on your life before. more than once.
they never got close enough to do any harm, you say, but then swallow thickly and clutch your bicep where simon sees a scar that he never took notice of previously. they didn't get close enough to do anything worse, you amend, chancing a look at him.
"i had security then, too," you explain, wiping your tears with your hand, playing with the blanket. "it didn't change anything."
something shifts after that.
he starts cooking for you — with you, when there's time — and you bring him a cup of tea each morning. the bookshelf in the living room, previously only half-filled, collects simon's books. you give him the login to all your streaming services, and ignore the pointed look he gives you when he sees some trashy reality tv show in your "continue to watch" queue.
he doesn't complain much when he stands behind you during an episode, arms crossed, asking a question here and there. you sigh, exasperated at having to explain everything, telling him to sit down and you start the series from the beginning.
nine months into his contract, your nightmares become more frequent, and worse. you don't understand why. you were getting better, you cry in simon's arms after a particularly rough night.
"sometimes these things happen," he tells you softly, gently carding his fingers through your hair, tucking you under his chin.
"make them stop, please," you beg, even though you know he can't. he wishes he could.
he starts sleeping in your bed.
he's so warm, your cheek pressed into his chest, feeling more secure than you have in months when the weight of his thick, tattooed arm slings around your waist. he presses a kiss to your forehead at night, and you burrow into his side.
he starts taking the balaclava off at night.
a morning where you blessedly don't have to be up early, grey clouds hang in the sky, the promise of a storm later.
"g'mornin'," he says, voice rough with sleep, feeling him flex and stretch beneath you, groaning as his body relaxes. a flash of heat snaps through you.
"morning," you reply, only half-awake, tilting your head up to drag your lips across his jaw, prickling with stubble.
his fingers are in your hair, thick and comforting, tilting you back until his mouth slants over yours. he cradles the back of your head as his tongue slips into your mouth, hot and heavy.
the sheets rustle as he moves to lay over you, free arm resting by your head as your legs hook on his hips, trying to draw him closer to you.
he nips at your bottom lip as he rolls his hips, the heat of his cock through his boxers frazzling your brain. you mewl, his tongue back in your mouth, moving his hand to grip your waist and drag you up against him, moaning low in his throat when he feels the wetness seeping through your panties.
"fuck," you breathe out as his mouth moves over your cheek, down your jaw, kissing the sensitive skin behind your ear.
"say please," he rumbles.
"simon, please," you whine, fingers curling at the base of his skull and scratching, and he snarls against your skin, sinking his teeth into the side of your neck as he tears your panties off, pushing his boxers down enough to free his cock.
you're so wet for him, slick coating your thighs as he drags his cock through your folds.
he usually takes his time — using his fingers and tongue to open them up first, wanting to feel the wet heat of their cunt and the spurt of their release to know they're relaxed and ready for him. he eats pussy like he'll die if he doesn't, will happily spend hours between your legs if you let him.
but you? he feels feral with need.
"it's big, sweet thing," he rasps into your skin, right above the mark he sucked into your skin, notching the head of his cock at your entrance. he's not trying to brag, it's just a fact.
you claw at him, the sting of open scratches burning his skin so pleasantly.
"it's okay, don't care," you pant, gripping him hard enough to leave deep crescent marks in his skin, angling your hips up to draw him into your cunt yourself.
he grips your hips with both hands, slowly pushing his thick length into you, nails digging even deeper the more he pushes in.
"feels so fucking good," he says, tongue laving over your throat to collect the thin sheen of sweat that coats your skin. "could fuck you forever," he groans, your breath hitching.
you make a strangled noise low in your throat. it's been awhile since you've fucked anyone, and you've never fucked anyone as big as him before.
the stretch feels so good, though. your cunt clenches around him as he sinks in deeper, mind glazing over as you focus only on him.
"fuck," he whines when he finally seats himself fully into you, nuzzling into your neck, overwhelmed by the heat and slick, "good fucking girl, taking me so well."
he swallows thickly, waiting a couple heartbeats to enjoy this — it's been awhile for him, too.
"think you can take it, love?" and his fucking voice. you would agree to do anything as long as you could hear that rough accent along your throat, teeth skimming your skin.
"yes," you breathe out harshly, moving to wrap your arms around his shoulders, needing him close, close, closer.
for a man of few words, simon has a filthy mouth as he fucks into you, accompanied by groans and growls into your collar.
"never had a cunt this perfect." "fuckin' made for me." "can't wait to get my tongue in you, feel you cum on my face." "no one else can have you." "you're mine."
and you, normally far more verbal than him, are reduced to nothing more than mewls and pleas and moans for more.
you mouth and nip at his jaw when you can, wanting to mark him just as much as he's marking you. you'll be his forever if he lets you, but you'll be damned if anyone else gets to have him either.
"simon — " is the only warning you give before you cum on his cock, head thrown back as you moan through the waves of pleasure, release coating his legnth and thighs.
"that's it, baby, good girl, give it to me," he says, blunt nails digging into your waist as he grinds himself deep into you. you feel so warm and pliant, the pleasure numbing your mind as he rocks himself into you.
"wanna feel you give me one more, angel," he bites at your throat on the other side, wanting to give you matching marks. he hooks your legs over his shoulders, fucking into you deeper, hitting that spot inside you that has you seeing stars and your toes curling.
you grip at him again, clawing as he fucks into you, the sound of your wet cunt taking each thrust creating a symphony with his groans and your cries. he feels so fucking good, splitting you open and making you whole, desperate for him to cum inside.
the way your nails dig into his shoulder is the sign that you're getting close, and he thrusts just a little harder, a little meaner, your cute whines growing more desperate as you walk the precipice of another orgasm.
no one's ever made you cum more than once — sometimes, not even once — and you've never been able to do it yourself either.
but simon? fucks a second orgasm out of you like it's his life mission, ankles tightening around his neck as pleasure lines your veins, shaking as he continues to hit that spot inside you as you cum, prolonging it as much as he can.
"baby — " he chokes out, sharp teeth on your shoulder, thrusts getting sloppy. the slick of your two releases sounds so loud in your bedroom, feeling the desperation as he thrusts, deeper, harder.
"cum inside," you mumble against his cheek, nails scratching at the base of his skull as he thrusts once, twice, three times — the warmth of his release flooding your cunt.
he fists the sheets in one hand, nails dragging down your thigh as he pumps deep into you, your slick and his release seeping out of your hole, dripping down his balls and your asshole.
you stay like that, lips brushing, breathing in each other's air as you slowly come down from the high.
simon gently — so gently — lowers your legs, carefully watching your face for any signs of discomfort, settling them on his hips, hands moving up and down your thighs. "y'alright?" he asks. you swallow thickly and nod, both hands now at the base of his skull, affectionately scratching at the nape of his neck.
he slowly pulls out, and you miss the stretch and the warmth immediately. you push up on your elbows, watching as the mixture of your pleasure leaks out of you, biting you lip.
"fuckin' beautiful," he says almost reverently, mesmerized.
he spends the next hour cleaning you up, and you think your nails create permanent marks on his shoulders.
time bleeds together.
his contract renews on the twelfth month.
he heard rumors that price might switch him out for another guard.
you're at the meeting — it's your bodyguard, after all, they figure you should get some input. price has two separate folders prepared. a sharp look from simon is all price needed to know about how he feels. the tongue lashing you give your higher ups has price raising his eyebrows, and simon sits forward a little more should he need to haul you out over his shoulder.
he wouldn't mind that too much, he thinks, but he'd rather not.
ten minutes later and you're angrily signing his renewal papers, a blotch of ink at the start of your name as you didn't even read the contract before signing, lungs burning from your rant about personal safety and what the fuck are you thinking and i didn't just buy an entirely new tea set for nothing.
you grip his wrist as soon as he signs himself, dragging him to the nearest bathroom.
his hand covers your mouth as he fucks you deep and slow.
"don't worry, darling, 'm not going anywhere."
eighteen months into his contract, and he's never felt so little control before in his life.
he's meticulous, prepared, tactile.
there's a gun in his holster for distance threats and a knife in his sheath for those who dare get too close.
he makes sure to memorize the exists before you even get to the venue, now making no effort to conceal himself.
he's like a shadow, or a guard dog.
you've never felt more secure. more protected.
until —
he doesn't know how it slipped past him.
he let his eyes linger a little too long on the curve of your neck, where a new diamond pendant lay with his initial engraved on the back. he admires the dip of the dress you wear, open-back that shows the enticing expanse of your back, the dress covering you above the curve of your ass. you look back at him briefly while whomever you're with speaks, eyes sparkling in the bright light of the room, a smile reserved just for him.
he hears the cock of a hammer and his eyes snap to a gentleman who brandishes a gun like he's never held one before in his life. his eyes, though. his eyes are like fire, black with rage, staring at you with such hatred.
you look one second too late.
simon is on you right after the click of the trigger, pushing you to the floor and caging you with his body.
"stay down and don't fucking move," he growls as he reaches for his own weapon, up in a flash.
you can't hear anything except white noise and screams that sound muffled, heart pounding and making it hard to breathe. two shots ring out, in tandem, and there's the telltale sign of a body hitting the floor.
simon is by your side, eyes scanning, frantic, looking for any signs of harm.
"you okay?" he asks, carefully outstretching his hands to let you stop him from touching you should you want. you don't.
"fine," your voice cracks, and you can't stop shaking.
"you're okay, you're okay," he says, cradling your cheeks, thumbs wiping under your eyes. "i'm so fucking sorry," he adds, guilt heavy in his chest.
you grab his wrists lightly, tears streaming down your cheeks as you look him over. you gasp, unable to catch a real breath, unable to look away from his stomach.
"simon — " you say, horror laced in your voice.
he looks down, seeing the red seep through his shirt.
fuck.
at least it wasn't you, he tells himself.
nineteen months into his contract, and he isn't dead.
while he's been shot before — a fact he tells you, assuming it would comfort you, but only got him a venomous glare in return — it's been awhile.
the hospital, the stitches, the gauze and needles. he hated it then and he hates it now.
price comes to you in the hospital — they're keeping simon for a little, to make sure there's no complications with his healing — offering another guard in the interim while simon recovers.
you've never shot down a proposal so quickly in your life. the nerve.
twenty-two months into his contract, and the last of the moving boxes are taped shut and labeled. some of them in your writing, the others in his. the keys to your new house are tucked into his pocket, alongside a black velvet box.
"why do we have so much shit," you whine when packing, only two boxes deep and so many rooms left to go. you're too busy stuffing a manatee shaped steeper into a box — mana-tea, you giggled when he opened it, him rolling his eyes fondly in reply — and don't see him pause, looking at you softer, never hearing "we" before like that. never dreaming he could hear it like that.
a lot of stalling on your part and encouragement on his, and the last box is packed and placed in the back of the truck.
he laces your fingers together as you drive to the new house, a bottle of champagne already chilled.
twenty four months into his contract, and you come home with something hidden behind your back.
you smile like you have a secret, which would be a first.
it's awkward to bring around from your back, but there's a large german shepard puppy wiggling in your grip, tail wagging furiously.
he feels his heart stop for a moment, unable to take his eyes off the puppy, and then the band that's sitting around your finger. he touches his own subconsciously.
you set the ball of fur down, who immediately launches at simon, whining and wiggling and trying to give him kisses.
there's a collar and tag already there, and you watch with your heart beating faster than ever, unable to stop the smile on your lips, as he wrangles the pup enough to read it.
riley.
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Pity Party.
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Synopsis - Carmy just wants to see you treated the way he thinks you deserve. He decides to take matters into his own hands.
Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Roommate Reader
Word Count - 3k
Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention. carmys filthy mouth.
Age Rating - 18+
Author's Note - hello hello hello!! i am back!! i had a wonderful vacation soaking up the sun, and i am feeling refreshed and ready to go. i have had so many ideas over the past few weeks, so i'm excited to get some of them written asap!! this was a fic that came to me randomly, as i was thinking about roommate!carmen and how much of a menace he'd be if you ever talked about other guys. this was written as a part of my carmen roommates collection. it doesn't follow on from Finders, Keepers or Sweet Dreams, but it does exist in the same universe - so you can decide if this takes place before or after!! as always, feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts or burning desires you have. so much love <3
as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3
Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.
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"You're back early."
Carmy had swung the door open, expecting to come home to an empty apartment. Instead, he's met with the sight of you, sitting on the couch, undoing the straps of your shoes.
"Fuckin' disaster," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.
He breathes out a chuckle at the stormy look on your face. Carmy thinks you're cutest when you're angry. He aches to smooth the crease between your brows with his thumb.
"That bad?" he asks, taking a seat next you and kicking off his sneakers.
"You wouldn't even believe."
He rises and makes his way to the kitchen, filling the tea kettle and placing it on the stove top. Grabbing two mugs, he casts a glance over his shoulder at you, frowning at your body language. You look defeated.
Carmy steeps two cups of tea, placing one of them carefully into your waiting hands. He resumes his seat on the sofa, pressing his thigh against yours and turning to face you.
"You wanna talk about it?"
You think for a moment before replying.
"You're gonna laugh at me."
His face instantly crumples, confusion written all over it.
"I'll never laugh at you. I'll laugh with you, sure. But never at you."
He nudges your shoulder with his, urging you to go on.
"Okay, fine. The actual date was pretty good. He took me to that Italian place downtown-"
"Dolce Vita? Did you get the truffle pasta I told you about?" Carmy interrupts you before you can continue.
"Yes, oh my God. It was incredible. Do you think you can recreate it sometime?"
"Fuck yeah. They're pretty secretive with their recipes, but I think I can figure it out. You can help me if you want - I'm gonna need a sous chef."
He pulls a reluctant laugh from you, the sound echoing off the ceramic of your mugs. You both know that being the sous chef involves you sitting on the counter drinking wine while Carmy does all the work.
"Of course. I'll always be your sous chef."
"I'll hold you to that."
You smile at him gently, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice.
"Anyway. The dinner went great. He seemed super interested in me, asked me questions, told me about his job, his hobbies, his dog. He was hot, and good to talk to. I thought I'd hit the jackpot."
"And then?"
"And then we went back to his apartment. And it all went to shit."
He chuckles, blue eyes glinting in the moonlight.
"Tell me more."
"You really want to hear about all of this?"
It's not like you and Carmy aren't close. You absolutely are. It's just that there's always been this unspoken connection between the two of you. A bubbling, fiery attraction that you both shut down repeatedly, screwing the lid on tight whenever it rears its head. So, you tend to avoid talking to Carmy about dating. You're scared you'll accidentally blurt out the truth - you compare every single date to him.
"Of course I do."
His answer is so genuine it makes you ache. You continue, hesitantly.
"Well... things got a little... heavy. He wasn't a bad kisser, I guess... he just wasn't... a good one? He kept biting my lip super hard and it kinda hurt. Then he pulled my clothes off like a high schooler, and he's on top of me, and I'm waiting for him to sort of... do... anything? And then he's finished. Like, completely done. And then he has the nerve to ask me if I finished."
Carmy's mouth has fallen open, shock etched across his face. After a long, heavy pause, he speaks.
"What the fuck?"
You look at him for moment, before bursting into contagious laughter. He joins you, both of you with your heads thrown back, giggles reverberating around the lowlit room.
"I mean, seriously," he pants, still laughing. "What the fuck?"
"I didn't even answer him. I just put my clothes on, grabbed my bag and left without saying a word."
Every time you try to stifle your laughter, a giggle escapes. The situation wasn't funny at the time, but looking back, it's hilarious.
All of a sudden, you both go silent. You're deep in thought, reflecting on the seemingly never ending stream of bad dates that you've endured. Carmy is watching you intently, ocean blue eyes glued to your face.
"Fuck," you breathe. "This is kinda pathetic."
Carmy inhales deeply, and turns his body so it's facing yours on the couch.
"The way I see it," he begins, "you have two options."
You quirk a brow in confusion and stay quiet, waiting for him to explain.
"You can sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or, you can let me fuck you the way you deserve."
Your mouth falls open in shock at the exact same moment your brain seems to shut down. You can't think. You can't process his words. All you can focus on is the way he's staring at you. You suddenly feel hot under his gaze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. A shiver runs down your spine, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.
"Wh-... what?" you choke out.
"You heard me, honey. You can wallow in your little pity party, or you can let me show you what it's like to be with someone who can actually make you come. Your choice."
His voice has dropped an octave lower than usual, the tone warm and honeyed. He's still staring at you, blue gaze unrelenting.
"Is this gonna fuck everything up between us?" you whisper hesitantly.
Carmy reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking careful circles into your skin.
"I don't think anything can fuck up what we have," he murmurs. "You're the only thing in my life that makes sense."
His confession seems to sober you up, the honesty in his words snapping you back to your senses.
"Okay."
He almost does a double take at the sureness in your voice.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Put your money where your mouth is, Carmen."
"There she is," he chuckles. "You scared me when you went quiet for a second there."
"Well, if what you say is true, you're not gonna be able to shut me up for the night."
He laughs darkly, and slides closer to you slightly.
"Oh, honey. You're gonna wish you hadn't said that."
He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing the journey of your neck with his fingertips. He rests his hand lightly at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it making you pant.
"If there's any point where you don't like something, or you want me to slow down, just say so. Okay?"
You nod your head, entranced by the sudden dominance he's displaying. You've never seen this side of him before. You can't believe he's been hiding it this whole time.
"Words, pretty. Need to hear you say it."
"Yes. I understand. I'll tell you, I promise."
He doesn't say anything in reply, just smirks. He lets you sit in the silence for a moment too long, the anticipation slowly killing you.
"Please, Carmen," you breathe. "Please."
"Fuck," he groans, shuffling closer to you. "You sound so pretty when you beg."
Carmy leans in and kisses your cheek gently, testing the waters. He presses a kiss to your other cheek, and pulls back to watch for your reaction. When he's happy, he tilts forward and leaves a careful kiss on your chin, then your forehead, then both of your closed eyes, before kissing you on the side of your mouth. His closeness makes you whine, desperate for him to give you what you want.
Finally, he connects his lips to yours, starting off slow and tender. When you tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and try to pull him even closer, his resolve snaps. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You clamber over him and climb into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing yourself into his body.
Carmy can't decide where to put his hands. He's grabbing at your waist, running his fingers up your back, pulling you into him by your ass. You're both groaning into each others mouths, enraptured by the other person and the all consuming way they kiss.
"Can I take this off?" he asks lowly, pulling at the hem of your dress.
Instead of answering, you pull it over your head, throwing it onto the floor in front of you.
"Fuck," he murmurs. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen."
His hands are roaming all of your exposed skin, as if he can't get enough. He's terrified he won't ever get to see you like this again, so he's not going to waste a second.
You grind your hips down into his, eliciting a groan from the both of you. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, as he leans up to press open mouthed kisses to your jaw. Your fingers fly to the hem of his t shirt, pulling it off swiftly. You manage to shove his jeans down and off, before attempting to pull off his underwear. Carmy stops you in your tracks.
"Nuh uh," he tuts. "This is about you. Not me."
He pulls you off his lap gently and shuffles so his back is resting against the couch cushions. He spreads his legs wide, and gestures for you to sit between them. When you don't move, he looks at you carefully.
"Give me a color, pretty girl."
You take a deep breath, and smile at him softly.
"Green, Carmen. Promise."
You manoeuvre sideways, so you can place yourself with your back to his chest. He wraps his arms around you for a moment and holds you tightly, as if he's scared you'll disappear any second. You relax into his embrace, all the tension leaving your body. You have nothing to worry about. It's just you and Carmen, in the place you call home.
You drop your head back into Carmy's shoulder, and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of his hands on your skin. He's begun tracing patterns down your arms, your sides, your stomach, until he reaches your underwear. He plays with the band, dipping his finger underneath in a feather light touch. Goose bumps rise across your body and you shiver, practically vibrating with need.
"Carmen," you whisper. "Don't tease."
"But that's half the fun," he murmurs into your ear, and you can hear the smile in his voice.
You can picture it perfectly, too. The way his eyes crinkle, the way his mouth curves, the way he bites his lip to stifle it. The image in your mind makes you melt into him further. You want to be as close to him as you physically can be. You'd completely disappear into him if you could.
He brings you back to reality by cupping you over your underwear, groaning when he feels the saturated material.
"Oh, pretty girl. Is this all for me? Fuck."
Suddenly, his game of teasing has lost all its fun. Carmy twists his fingers into your underwear and pulls them off in one swift movement, throwing them in the general direction of your dress on the floor. He places a hand on each of your thighs and spreads them apart, hooking them over his legs.
Carmy starts off slow, careful. He caresses over your skin, gentle and almost apprehensive. When he gets to your core, he swipes a finger through, testing the waters. When you buck your hips into his hand, he knows you're both on the same page.
"Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good."
His deep, smooth, whiskey like voice is doing nothing to help the heat bubbling in your stomach. You only whine in response, wiggling your hips to urge him to keep going.
Carmy throws one arm around your stomach, keeping you plastered to his body. You can feel him hot and hard against your back, and you so desperately want to feel him that your mouth is watering. You grind back into him, and he reads your mind.
"Not yet," he whispers. "This is about you, remember? Need to show you what you've been missing."
With that, he circles your clit with two fingers, slowly but surely. He revels in the noises you elicit. They're making him dizzy, disorientated. He never thought he'd be the one to pull a sound like that from you. He's quite convinced he's dreaming.
"Let me hear you. Don't hold back on me, okay?"
You nod your head frantically, willing to give him whatever he asks if you get what you want.
Carmy slips a finger into you slowly, moaning under his breath at your warmth. When he thinks you're ready, he adds a second finger, and sets a steady rhythm, trying to figure out what you like.
After he's set his pace, he starts to curl his fingers on the up stroke, grinning to himself when he finds the spot.
"Yeah? Right there? That's it, isn't it?"
You're nodding and shaking and pawing at his forearms, trying to tether yourself to reality in any way you can. You think you might be floating, on cloud 9, in some sort of euphoric trance. You can't believe no one's ever made you feel like this before. You're convinced no one ever will again.
Carmy quickens his pace and basks in the glory of your moans. He thinks this might be the most beautiful you've ever looked, spread out completely for him. Every inch of your skin is touching his, and it makes his heart skip a beat for a second.
He presses a kiss into your hair and keeps his mouth there, murmuring honeyed praises into your ear.
"Doin' so good for me."
"You got it, honey, that's it."
"Atta girl. Keep going. Almost there."
"You look so fuckin' pretty like this. Fuck. Gonna be thinking about this forever."
"I'll ruin you, baby. Nothing's ever gonna compare to this, to what we have."
All you can do is moan in response, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You're almost there, but something is stopping you. You whine in frustration, tears welling in your eyes. Carmy feels the tension suddenly grasp your muscles, and leans down to mutter to you softly.
"What is it, sweet girl? What do you need? Just tell me. Anything, and I'll give it to you."
You're not sure how much you trust your voice right now, so you decide to show him instead. You take the hand that he's using to hold you to him and move it up your body until it's resting against your throat. You tighten your fingers around his, and moan in response to the pressure.
"Oh, baby," he coos. "Filthy fuckin' girl. Here I thought you were so innocent, and this whole time you wanted to be choked like a whore?"
The way he degrades you so lovingly makes you mewl. You'd never ever trust anyone else to speak to you this way in such an intimate moment - but with Carmen, there's no hesitation. You know he's just telling you what you need to hear in the heat of the moment. And you love him for it.
"Fuck, Carmen," you manage to choke out. "Keep going. Don't stop, please."
"I'll do anything you want if you keep saying my name like that," he whispers.
"Carmen," you moan in response. "Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy."
You're chanting his name like a prayer. He's rutting into your back, hips grinding and circling in time with his fingers that are maintaining their steady rhythm. His fingers tighten around your throat as he crooks his digits just right, and the result is a devastating moan from you that Carmy wishes to have on repeat for the rest of his life.
"So close," you whisper hoarsely. "Harder."
Carmy uses his thumb to circle your clit with one hand, other hand pulling you by your neck back into him tightly. He grinds his hips dirtily into you, and the feeling of him so silky and warm against you is what sends you over the edge. The corners of your vision go white as you arch into him, head thrown backwards into his chest. The sounds you're making are so melodic, so borderline angelic that Carmy almost cries. Heaven, he thinks. This is salvation.
Carmy finishes with you, climaxing onto the soft skin of your back. You both relax simultaneously, chests heaving and panting. He removes his fingers gently and wraps both arms around you, pulling you into him tightly despite the mess. He reaches to brush the hair out of your face, and the gesture is so tender it makes your lip quiver.
"Thank you," you whisper after what feels like hours of comfortable silence.
"Sorry I called you a whore," he murmurs back.
You let out a surprised laugh, vibrating with amusement in his arms.
"I know you didn't mean it."
"I mean I did give you the best orgasm of your life, so... call it even?"
"You're forgiven," you chuckle. "Completely forgiven."
You trace gentle patterns over his forearms with your fingertips, following the black ink of his tattoos. He sighs in contentment and places a kiss into your hair, relaxing further into the couch.
You sit together like that for a while, neither of you too concerned with the time. It's not often you see Carmy so relaxed, so serene. You're enjoying it for as long as you can.
"We should clean up," he says quietly, eventually. "Sorry about the mess."
"It's okay. Worth it," you tease, pinching his thigh. He pinches your side in retaliation, which makes you jump.
"Come on, trouble."
He stands from the couch, never letting go of the grip he has on you. You have no choice but to stand with him, yelping as he half carries you through the apartment towards the shower.
The sounds of both of your laughter bounce off of the abandoned mugs of tea still sat on the coffee table, melodic and joyous. The moonlight seeps through the windows, illuminating the beginning of something special in the living room of your shared apartment.
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familyvideostevie · 4 months
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steel drum weight of me
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joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni
summary: joel comes back from his wall shift with hands in need of some serious tlc. but why stop there? | 3.2k
warnings: fem!reader, fluff turned to smut, a tender blowjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex, riding, creampie
a/n: this could be in the same universe as come care about me and watching you with wonder but who knows. what matters is it's a post-part i jackson au and all is well. this is my first fic in a while and i hammered it out today so hopefully it's coherent. <3 series masterlist here.
__
Jackson looks its best in the winter.
You've always thought so with its endless skies gone white, blending in with the grey clouds carrying the constant threat of snow. The peaks you never tire of, such ethereal beauty in a world otherwise gone to shit, looming over town with a steadfastness that you can fool yourself into thinking means protection, means safety. In reality, they're just something nice to look at when you have a free moment.
It's also fucking cold.
But you can deal with that. You've spent more winters in the last twenty years than you'd like to remember mostly outside, freezing your ass off, fingers so numb you could barely pull the trigger. But when it counted, you did.
Winter now means a town full of children laughing and having snowball fights. It means big pots of stew and your pick of hats, scarves, and a good pair of boots. It means a warm house to go back to every night, a bed to crawl into, and a man you love to hold you.
Things could be worse.
You're home first today. Joel and Ellie are on the wall and have been since mid-morning. The light is already going, the sun dipping behind the Tetons, sky that winter mix of purple and pink that makes the breath catch in your throat no matter how many times you see it. There's a flu going around and taking people out for a few days at most but it means fewer bodies free for the wall and for patrol. You're pulling a double tomorrow and you're already looking forward to the hot bath you'll take after.
Today, though, you change from your work clothes to something softer, a sweater that travels between your drawer and Joel's, thick socks Dina gave you for your birthday last year. It's hard to heat houses like yours the way you used to but it works well enough to fight the chill so long as you layer. That's the name of the game these days: adapting.
You set the kettle to boil and forgo thinking about dinner for a few hours. Joel won't drink tea with you but if Ellie stops by she'll have some. Maybe you can convince her to watch the movie you pulled from the library this week. You love him, but Joel just doesn't appreciate comedies.
The front door creaks, the bell you have hanging from the doorknob jingling.
"S'me," Joel calls into the house. "You home?"
"Making tea." The kettle isn't steaming yet so you lean against the counter and wait.
The sounds of his return are familiar even though you can't see him. He locks the door with a click, shrugs his jacket off with a sigh. He sits down on the bench you put in the entryway so he can take his boots off. The thunk of one and then the other. He'll tuck them next to yours under the coat rack. When the weather is bad you try to come in the back door so not as to track snow through the house but you don't want his back to get any worse so a bench in front makes sense.
The kettle screams. You pull it off quick and pour the water into your mug -- a chipped green one with a dinosaur holding a cookie that you find endlessly amusing -- and leave it to steep. The floor creaks under your socked feet as you make your way into the hall. Joel still sits on the bench digging into the meat of one palm with his thumb like he's working the feeling back into them.
He looks up and his jaw softens a little. His cheeks are rosy from the cold and his hair a mess from the wind. "Evenin," he says.
"How was the wall?"
"Fine." He stops messing with his hands and rolls his shoulders back with a grunt. "Ellie swears she saw a moose on her last patrol. Said to tell you. I think she's fuckin' with me. How was your shift?"
"Fine," you echo. "Is she coming for dinner?"
He shakes his head. "Game night at Jesse's."
You cross the remaining distance between you and he parts his legs automatically so you can stand between his knees. You run a hand through his hair, pushing the greying fringe back from his eyes. He looks up at you and finally smiles, just a little. You drag your hand down the side of his face and enjoy the feel of his beard on your skin.
"Maybe she did see a moose." He rolls his eyes and brings a hand up to cover yours. You lean down to kiss him but something catches your eye and you pull back, tugging your hand from beneath his to circle his wrist.
"Jesus, Joel." He makes a surprised sound.
"Hey now, what --"
You pull his other hand from his knee and hold them both close to your face, turning them over in the light of the entryway. "You didn't wear gloves, did you?"
He just shrugs. That means someone else on the wall -- probably Ellie -- forgot theirs and he handed his own over.
The skin of his knuckles is dry and cracked, the rest of his palm dry and cold to the touch. You've seen them bloody, broken and bruised, and compared to that, this is tame. Welcome, almost. But you know he won't do a damn thing about it, let himself bleed rather than take a second to make things better.
And you've never minded this part. Taking care of him, making him slow down and rest for even just a little bit. You both know you'd get your hands dirty or worse for him and he for you, but this is the part he has trouble with. So you take the reigns.
It's part of how you fit together -- part of how you look after each other.
"We've got something for this." Joel looks unamused. You press a light kiss to one of his knuckles and his nostrils flare. "Go sit on the couch," you say.
"I'm fine --"
"Joel, they'll bleed if you don't let me --"
"I said I'm --"
"Hey," you say. He hears the finality of your tone and lets you have it, sighing your name in one long breath.
"Alright," he says. "Move, then."
You press a quick kiss to his lips and release his hands to step back. He stands with his usual grunt and you have to stop yourself from leaning into the width of him, from wrapping your arms around him and slotting your nose in his neck and never letting go.
"It's that salve Dina brought over last week," you tell him. "The new one for the winter. Smells nice. Good for this kind of stuff."
Joel makes his way to the couch and you fetch the tin from the kitchen.
"What's it made of?"
"Uh -- oil? And some flowers, I think? Wax, maybe."
He's settled into the cushions when you return, smirking. "It's okay to say you don't fuckin' know."
You sit next to him and unscrew the top, folding your legs so you're facing him. "Well then, I don't fuckin' know." You're sure to imitate his drawl.
"Cute."
"Gimme those hands, big guy."
The salve smells faintly of lavender and it's cold on your fingertips. Joel extends his right hand and you work it into his skin slowly, extra careful around where it's cracked and split. You feel his eyes on you but you let him look.
"Feels good, huh?" He hums. "If you'd wear your gloves then --"
"What was I gonna do, let her freeze?" So it was Ellie, then. You flick your gaze up and find his brow furrowed. If you have a free hand you'd smooth the crease with your thumb.
"No," you say. "Guess it's a damn good thing you have me here, then."
He chuckles, a throaty, rusty sound. "Guess so."
You finish the first hand and motion for his second. He gives it to you and you dig your thumbs into the meat of his palm. Joel lets you touch him whenever you like, for the most part. Pressing into his side when you walk down the street in town, trailing your lips down his neck until he whines just a little in your bedroom. You've worked knots out of his shoulders and cleaned blood from surface wounds. You can never get enough of him, of his warmth, the expanse of his tanned skin all yours for the taking.
And, boy, he touches you back.
So you take your time. You rub the salve between his fingers, over the ridges of knuckles split so many times you don't even know about. His hands are rough even when they're not dry and cracking, callused from years of hard work. From years of violence and playing guitar, shooting a gun and holding the people he loves. Dotted with scars and nicks, hands that have touched every part of you.
Joel's slightly slimy finger taps your chin. "You okay?" You've been stroking the same bit of his hand for who knows how long.
"Yeah," you say and mean it. You rub your own hands together to soak in some of the salve before putting the lid back on the tin and standing. "Need to let it soak in."
"Feels soaked in already," he grumbles.
"Stay there." He purses his lips. "I mean it, Joel."
"Bossy today," he says. "There's wood that needs choppin'." You ignore him since he's just being annoying. The salve goes back in the kitchen and his voice trails after you. "And I told Tommy I'd --"
You turn on the tap. "You gotta let that soak in," you say again from the sink.
"What? Can't hear over the water."
You turn off the tap and dry your hands. Joel is still on the couch when you return. "Sorry," you say. You run your hand through his hair again and settle back down next to him. "I said be patient."
"Don't think that's what you said."
"It's what I meant."
And he looks at you in that way that always makes your face feel hot. Like he's seeing right to the bone of you, like he's laying you bare on the floor in his mind. Like he never wants to stop looking at you, next to him on the couch, leg pressed to yours. Like he loves you.
"Alright," he says.
You get an idea, the flames licking at your belly and your hands itching to touch him again, to touch him differently than before. That idea has you grabbing a pillow and tossing it to the floor, has you getting up and drawing the curtains before you sink to your knees before him.
Joel only looks mildly surprised, eyebrows raised, mouth tugging up at the corner. "Now, I ain't gonna complain but --"
"Then don't," you say. You tug his shirt from his waistband and start working on his belt. "Gotta pass the time somehow. And I don't know what we're doing for dinner yet, so maybe I'm just stalling."
"Hell of a way to stall." He reaches for you to touch your face, maybe, or help you with his belt, when you click your tongue. "We can just go to the community hall--"
"Don't touch," you remind him. "You have to let it--"
"Soak, Jesus, yeah, yeah." Joel tips his head back along the sofa and takes one deep breath. If he really wanted to he could ignore you and you'd let him get away with it, but if there's one thing you and Joel have solidified, it's trust. He trusts you to take care of him, to handle him with hands that love him.
So you do. He lifts his hips just a little so you can tug his jeans down, zipper undone and button popped. You pull out his cock, already half-hard at the promise of what's to come. You spit into your palm and stroke him once root to tip and he hisses. More blood flows and he stiffens in your hand.
"You just gonna look at it?"
You give him a squeeze for being a shit. He laughs but it sounds punched out, on the edge. Frankly it's an effort not to take him in your mouth right away. You've always loved this -- the exchange of power, the trust. You're the one on your knees but you're calling the shots. And he's mouthwatering. The way his cock curves a little, the vein that runs along the underside. The mushroom head a little pinker than the rest, the wiry hair at his base. The hefty weight of his balls in your hand, on your tongue. You know how to make it good for him and it's good for you, too.
Joel opens his mouth to no doubt say something else annoying so you finally drag your tongue along the vein, swirling a little at the top before taking just the tip of him in your mouth. His precome is salty. You work your hand along the rest of him as you start to suck in earnest, hollowing your cheeks and taking a little more each time.
"Look so pretty, baby," Joel says. His voice is gravely, broken in his throat. You manage to take almost all of him and you swallow, just once. Your reward is your name spilling from his mouth in a groan.
It's messy. Spit beads at the corner of your mouth and drips a little as you work him, breathing through your nose when you take him all the way. So good, takin' all of me, keep goin'.
Joel has clearly forgotten your directive as he winds one hand in your hair and pulls just a little, just enough to make you moan around him. You don't scold him for it, instead keeping your eyes on his face. His head is tipped back just a little, lips parted at he gazes down at you. His other arm is stretched along the length of the couch, his fingers digging into the fabric as you bob on his cock.
You know he's close. You can feel how he's trying hard to keep his hips down, trying not to fuck your throat cause usually he asks first. So it's only a little surprising when he pulls you off him, eyes a little glazed and some color high on his cheeks.
He wipes spit from the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb. "Why don't you c'mere?" he says. "Let me fill you up."
"Joel." This was supposed to be about making him feel good. You know even if he comes in your mouth he'll ask you let him touch you, so frankly you don't mind if he fucks you or not.
He smirks, presses his fingers into the side of your neck a little. You swallow so he can feel it. "We both know you can take it," he drawls, eyes dark. "Always gets you goin', my cock in your mouth."
You can feel the heat between your legs, the arousal pooling in your gut. He's right but he's also an asshole. "You're annoying," you tell him.
"So is that a no?"
You drag the flat of your tongue up his shaft one last time as punishment before standing, using his knees as leverage to get off your own. He shucks off his jeans the rest of the way as you drag down your pants, letting them pool with your underwear at your feet before stepping out. Joel holds out a hand for you to balance on and you take it, putting your other on his shoulder.
"Feels softer already," you mutter. Joel snickers and you straddle him. He uses one hand to drag his fingers through your cunt and you fail to swallow a gasp.
"Well, look at that," he says. "I was right." He pushes two fingers into you and they go easily, your hips jerking as he pumps them in and out once, twice, and then you're empty again.
"Smug bastard," you manage. He brings his hand to his mouth and takes a long lick before surging forward to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you even wetter.
Joel licks into your mouth and you kiss him back sloppily, desperately, in the way you know he likes. You're so busy with that hands on his face, his beard scratching your skin deliciously, that you don't notice what else he's doing. His hand presses into the bare skin of your back under your shirt and you lift up a little on instinct and then --
The head of his cock nudges at your entrance and his hand presses again and you meet the movement of his hips with your own and he fills you with just one stroke.
You moan in unison, Joel's arm wrapping around your back as you curl yours around his neck, mouths not so much pressed together as hovering as you pant, as you adjust. Even with how wet you are Joel is a stretch, a welcome one, but a stretch regardless. You shift your hips, roll them back and forth a little.
"Go on, then," you tell him. "Fuck me."
He laughs.
His lips leave yours and trail down your chin, sucking spots onto your neck and on that spot that makes you keen as he does what you ask. He goes slow at first, letting you meet him thrust for thrust. One hand snakes up your shirt, thumbs at your nipple when he finds no bra in the way. You wing your fingers in his hair and tug, tug until he picks up the pace, until all you can hear is the smack of his flesh against yours.
"Joel -- Joel -- right there --"
"M'not gonna -- I -- fuck --"
"Said you were gonna fill me up, didn't you?" you pant, managing to find a bit of cheek in the haze of your fucking. "C'mon, Miller. Don't keep a lady wait--"
His hips pick up the pace, his hands pressing into you hard enough to bruise. You give up trying to tease him and hang on for dear life, managing to snake a hand between your legs to rub at your clit as he pounds into you. The only thing you can say is his name over and over as you feel the hook pull taught, feel the head of his cock brush against and then pound that spot that makes your vision blur.
Joel comes just before you do, his thrusts stuttering and his name on your lips. You feel it, the heat inside you and it's enough to send you over the edge, your cunt squeezing him as he empties inside you.
You press your forehead to his and catch your breath. He palms your neck, your jaw, slides his thumb lazily under your eye and kisses the corner of your mouth.
"Hell of a salve," he manages.
You slot your lips over his. "Wear your damn gloves." Joel laughs and it shifts him inside you. Even softening it makes you both hiss a little. "Just gimme a second."
His hand drags up and down your back, pressing into your spine. "Take your time," he says. "M'clearly not goin' anywhere."
"You never stop, do you?"
Joel kisses you again. "'fraid not."
You laugh into his neck. "Good."
thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!
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moonstruckme · 2 months
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Hi! I was wondering if you could do poly!marauders with a clumsy s/o? Thank you!
Thanks for requesting love!
cw: blood
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words
“I’m going to purchase one of those leashes for unruly toddlers,” James says, thick lashes nearly touching as he squints down at your hand. “And I’m going to keep it around my wrist at all times.” 
“It won’t be as good at catching me as you are,” you point out. You do your best not to wince as he picks a piece of gravel out of your palm, but his eyes flick up to you anyway, an apology in them. 
“No, but at least I’ll be able to keep you close.” 
You laugh a little. “I trip whether you’re nearby or not.” 
“Beg to differ.” He sounds bitter, but James has always had a terrible poker face and the uptilt of his lips betrays him. He spreads ointment over the cuts on your hand before bandaging it. “If I was with you, this would’ve never happened. Guaranteed.” 
“Yes, it’s all your fault.” Remus comes in from the kitchen, maneuvering carefully so as not to get the hot mug he’s carrying anywhere near James. He sets it next to your thigh on the bathroom counter. “Jamie,” his tone is chiding, a bit tired, “why have you started with her hands? She’s bleeding down to her ankles.” 
“It’s nearly dried anyway,” you say, looking down at your shredded knees. Remus feels too bad for you to give you one of his worse reprimanding looks, but his eyes convey tremendous exasperation nonetheless. 
“Because I knew she’d need her hands to hold her tea,” James replies, bumping Remus’ hip lightly with his. “Ease up, I’ve got it. Did you make yourself some tea too?” 
Remus glances towards the kitchen the way an old captain might gaze at the sea. “I thought about it…” 
“Do that,” James says. He finishes up with your other hand, bandaging it carefully. “Actually, would you mind just putting a kettle on? I’ll have a cup, and Sirius might want one too.” 
You frown at that, but neither of your boyfriends see, Remus going into the kitchen with renewed purpose and James smiling slightly to himself as he finishes wrapping your hand. 
“One of these days,” he whispers, backing up a bit so he can work on your knees, “you’re going to have to sit on the couch and feed Remus chocolates for all you put his heart through. We’ll be lucky if the next time you fall he doesn’t have an attack.” 
“What’s Sirius coming here for?” you ask. 
“Well, he does live here.” 
You give him a look, but he doesn’t glance up from cleaning the blood off your shin. “He’s supposed to be shopping with Marlene.” Accusation and betrayal lines your words. “You texted him?” 
James looks up at you now, sympathetic if not quite sorry. “You know I had to. He would’ve murdered me if he’d come home and seen you all bandaged up and nobody had told him.” 
“You could take him,” you grumble. 
He laughs. “I don’t know, sweetheart. He fights dirty.” 
You laugh too, though it’s more a humorous huff. “He can’t come home every time I trip,” you say, twisting the string of your tea bag around your index finger. “It’s not like I need to go to the hospital.” 
James works a larger piece of gravel out of your knee, eyebrows knit together by compassion. “He worries,” he says simply. “He wants to come home every time you hurt yourself, though if you recall, I didn’t tell anyone about you banging your head on the microwave door yesterday, or about when you fell on the stairs last week.” He looks up, grinning when you shrink, abashed. “But when you fall this bad, it’s a bit harder to hide. Sorry, lovie.” 
It’s a double apology, for ratting you out and for the sting of the ointment he smears over your knee. You hiss through your teeth. “Fair enough,” you say. James smooths a large band-aid over the series of shallow cuts, kissing the skin just above it for good measure. “I just don’t like to worry him. Any of you, if I can help it.” 
He shrugs. “I don’t think you can,” he says. You get what he means. Remus is a worrier, Sirius even more so, protective by nature and nurture. And each of your boyfriends cares about you too much to ignore how often you hurt yourself, even if you really think they should be desensitized to it and annoyed with you by now. “But I’m trying to get you cleaned up before he sees you, so hopefully that’ll help.” 
Like James has just issued a summons, the rumble of Sirius’ bike comes from outside. James grimaces as it slows to a stop. 
“I hate that fucking thing,” Remus growls from the kitchen. 
James shoots a sad smile in that direction. You think that you might not single-handedly cause Remus’ heart attack if Sirius gets there first. 
“Where is she?” Sirius calls as soon as he comes in the door. “I assume there’s a blood trail for me to follow?” 
James chuckles. “I told you it wasn’t that grim,” he shouts down the hall, and a second later there are heavy footsteps coming toward you. You brace yourself. 
“Fucking hell.” He halts just in the threshold of the bathroom, then seems to change his mind, striding over to you. His eyes are glued to the bloody mess of your uncovered knee. “Darling, what did you do?” 
You knew what to expect from him, and still your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to. “I missed the curb going out to get the mail,” you say. 
Sirius’ eyes lift to yours, widening. “You fell into the road?” You nod. “You could’ve been hit by a car!”
“There weren’t any cars.” There are almost never any cars on your street, and he knows that. 
“You’re lucky there weren’t,” he says anyway, holding his hand out. You place one of yours in it obediently, palm up. There’s a bit of blood marring the beige bandage, and Sirius makes a terribly soft pitying sound. “Your poor, lovely hands.” He runs a careful finger over the covering. “How bad was it?” he asks James.
“I told you, not horrific,” James says, finishing with getting the debris out of your knee and twisting the cap off the ointment. He looks up to be sure you’re ready before he starts smoothing it on.
“Stitches?” 
“Oh, tons. She’s held together more by thread than skin at this point.” 
You roll your eyes, but Sirius coos, “My poor sweetheart,” and grabs hold of your face to plant a kiss on your lips. You must look as pleasantly surprised as you feel, because he does it again, bending forward to avoid bumping his hip into your knee. 
His thumb sweeps across your cheek as he pulls away, brows furrowed. “Does it hurt?” he asks, and now the mirth has disappeared from his tone. You don’t know how Sirius does that, going from teasing to not in a blink. 
“Not so badly,” you tell him. 
He hums, stroking your face again. “Would you tell me if it did?” 
You feel your lips twitch, and Sirius’ eyes narrow like he knows your answer before you’ve spoken. “Probably not,” you admit, “but it really doesn’t.” 
He stares you down for a minute, murky eyes scanning yours for traces of untruth, his dark brows lowered. You reach up to slot a piece of hair behind his ear, and he cracks, mouth kicking up at the corner. 
“Alright, drink your tea before it gets cold.” 
“I’ve actually made tea for everyone,” Remus calls, not from the kitchen this time but from the living room. “And snacks, so please come eat them.” 
James grins, touch moving up the back of your knee to your thigh as he stands. “Excellent,” he says eagerly. “You’re all fixed up, m’love. Let’s go take care of Rem now.” 
You start to hop down from the counter, but Sirius says, “Wait, wait!” and grabs you by the hips, keeping you in place. “Can you walk?” 
You nod, because duh, your legs are scraped, not broken, but Sirius looks to James, the both of them frowning thoughtfully. 
“Best not to risk reopening them,” James decides, scooping you up off the counter. 
You huff a laugh, rolling your eyes. “Thank you,” you say, rather than this is deeply unnecessary and you’re being ridiculous. James seems to hear both anyway, planting a sloppy, smiley kiss on your cheek. Sirius, satisfied, follows you down the hall. “I didn’t mean to make you my manservant, I swear.” 
“Happy to do it,” he says. “Now drink your tea, it’ll make Rem feel better.”
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thot4ellie · 24 days
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oh sweetheart pt 3
pairing: boxer!ellie x f! jesses sister!reader
word count: 5.4k!!! longest part yet yay
rating: 18+ (smut will be coming in later parts)
warnings: dealer! boxer!ellie, weed, alcohol, boxing, kissing, joel is dead in this, talk of abusive relationship, smoking, they’re drunk but eveything is consensual ofc! lmk if im missing anything
summary: you and ellie share a moment and both of you admit it :)
author notes: hi everyone thank you for all the love on this series <<<333 this is a good one! not all the way edited yet but i wanted to post cause i finished it 20 minutes ago! sorry for the wait but i think maybe some smut in the near future ;) requests are open and id love any feedback. thank you for 200 followers and over almost 2000 likes!! this is unbelievable and im so grateful! pls let me know if u want to be added to the taglist!!!
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finally friday is here, it feels like you’ve been counting the minutes until you see her again. you woke up around eleven am and put water in the kettle to make yourself some tea as you went to the bathroom to get your morning routine done, paramore playing over your speaker in the bathroom. your routine is something you’ve started to build since you moved to try and keep your anxiety at bay, not all the time it works but its a good way to get your day started. you started with washing your face, brushing your teeth, then brushing the bedhead out of the mess you call hair.
a couple minutes later, you hear the kettle hiss and you make your way back to the kitchen and turn off the stove. you picked your favorite mug out of your cabinet and make your tea. leaving the kitchen, you went back to sit on the couch and think about a million different outcomes that would possibly happen tonight when you see her. you wonder if you’re reading too much into the way she talked to you, was she even flirting with you at all? or just being nice? did she just feel bad about seeing what happened outside her gym?
your phone buzzed in the mist of your thoughts on your and you read a text from dina telling you they’re leaving for the gym around 7 and if you wanted a ride. before responding you pulled up the weather app on your phone and decided you could walk there, its a warm summer day out again and by the time the sun fell, it would be cool enough to walk and it was only about 15 minutes from your house, that and leaving open the possibility that she would want to drive you home again.
you texted her back saying that you would just meet them there. you looked at the time seeing its about eleven thirty so you still have a while until you have to leave. you decided you were gonna be productive today. you did laundry and washed your sheets, did the dishes, vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom and made a sandwich for lunch even thought by now it was 4 o clock. as you were walking around your apartment, you made a mental note to try and find some nice thrift stores around to help you decorate your place. you made your way to your bathroom to shower for tonight.
you love taking long showers, its your guilty pleasure. thanking god that your landlord pays your water bill as you dried off from the shower, put on your strawberry lotion, a big black t-shirt and fuzzy socks to hang around in while you did your hair and minimal makeup. you couldn’t stop thinking about seeing her tonight. new girl was playing on the tv in your room as you finished the final touches on your face. doing light everything since its hot but still wanting to look nice for the occasion: finally seeing her again.
four episodes later and its 6 o clock so you change into a pair of black levi shorts and a green top. your hair and makeup still looked good from earlier so nothing to touch up but you still triple checked yourself. you wish you could have smoked today to help beat the nerves but you wouldn’t have anything until tonight, smiling to yourself thinking of you and her on the phone both laughing when you asked if she was bribing you. you slipped on your converse, grabbed your bag, and locked the front door behind you and started making your way to ellie’s gym.
you got there around seven and you didn’t see jesses car yet but you did see hers. ellie’s beat up 2000 green honda cry sat in a spot towards the back of the parking lot. memories of you leaning on her window practically admitting you liked when she called you sweetheart and the peaceful feeling of comfortable silence you both held.
you heard someone call your name in the distance to turn and see dina getting out of the car, you were so concentrated on ellies car you didn’t even see them pull in. you made your way over and greeted them with a hug as dina wrapped your arm in hers and dragged you in with her, jesse following behind. you tried to calm your nerves but it just wasn’t working. not nervous about being here, even after what happened outside with the man last time, but of seeing her again. you’ve only spoken to her a handful of times but you thought of her more times than you can count.
as soon as you made it closer towards the front door, it was loud, like the first time you were here. loud people, loud lights, loud everything but now knowing it was ellie’s changed it. jesse held the door as dina went in first and you both followed. florescent lights beamed from above you, shining on the sweaty bodies in the gym. it was just like it was the first time you came. your nerves followed you everywhere, but it was worth seeing her again.
you went in and dina guided you guys to the same table you had last time. you wonder if they sit here every time. you looked around for ellie but you didn’t see her anywhere. you saw her car so she has to be here.
dina and jesse got up to go get drinks from the makeshift bar while you sat and waited for them to bring back your drink. you looked over to them waiting their turn when you heard something behind you.
“hey sweetheart,” she whispered close to your ear, and before you could respond she pulled out the the seat next to you and sat down.
“hey ellie,” you said almost startled. she was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, a black t shirt and all her tattoos were showing this time. it was almost mind blowing seeing her and you couldn’t even explain what it did to you. you don’t understand why a girl you barely know has this effect on you.
“i told you to call me el,” she said and laughed kindly towards you, “i have the stuff for you” she finished.
“oh thank you, i’d hope so considering that’s the reason i came,” you joked.
“wait you mean you didn’t come to see me?” she said sounding fake hurt.
“that was just a plus,” you flirted. dina and jesse came back to the table with the drinks before she responded to you and they both greeted ellie as they sat.
“hey els we didn’t see you before we ordered the drinks, i can go get one for ya?” jesse asked her.
“nah i’ll wait til the next round, thanks though” she told him. she smiled at you and the conversation started between all four of you, before you knew it an hour and a half passed, you had more three more rounds and just enjoyed your friday night. the match started and you find it so convenient that you can still see the ring from where the table is so theres no need to get up and watch considering its not ellie up there.
you watched for a bit until it was coming to the end, cheering erupted and ellie told dina and jesse that she was going out for a smoke, before she got up, she leaned over to you and whispered “you coming sweetheart?” softly in your ear, her face inches away from yours, then she moved back and smiled. she held out her hand and you held it as she pulled you up with her as you blushed so hard, you swear you turned into a tomato.
your eyes stayed on her hand holding yours and the beautiful moth tattoo covering her arm, not believing that she’s actually touching you again. you followed behind her as she moved with you through the gym towards the door, as you walked out still hand in hand you saw the side of the building, it was the same place she defended you the first time you met her.
she lead you over to a bench that you never even realized was there. your hands broke as you both sat, she went pull out her cigarette pack and the lighter from her back pocket when she noticed you were staring at her still. she smirked as she opened the pack, and surprisingly pulled out a joint. she put it in her mouth and brought the lighter up to it before telling you “its not polite to stare sweetheart.”
you blushed and looked away as soon as she said it. she laughed and she passed the joint to you, you told her you just couldn’t help it. and you really couldn’t, she’s breathtaking. the way her freckles danced across her whole face, her eyes had a small tint of brown circling her iris, the scar on her right eyebrow, the way her lips just sat perfectly on her face. you so badly want to reach out and touch them again.
you hit it a couple times, you are sure your cheeks haven’t been back to normal since you saw her and you wonder if she’s noticed. you passed her back the joint and she staring at you taking in every detail of you too as she brought it to her mouth and took a hit. blowing out the smoke she smirked, and said “i can’t either sweetheart.”
she leaned back against the bench, legs spread a little as she handed you the joint and asked, “so what brought you here besides jesse?” she acquired. you told her about living in brooklyn, above the cafe you worked and how your time spent there wasn’t totally great but the real reason was running from a shitty past, you weren’t ready to tell her specifics but you told her that’s why you left, you had to get away from what happened there but it was more like who. she told you she understood and then she told you “well i’m glad you’ve made your way here sweetheart.”
you don’t know if it was the alcohol or weed but you sat outside on the bench for another 20 minutes, smoking and laughing as you talked about so much: you talked about the tv shows you’re both watching, the albums you had on repeat, the guilty pleasures you both had and what you both did in your free time. you spoke to one another like you’ve known each other for years. it just feels so good to talk to someone like this again.
she learned that your parents live in portland, so moving coasts was a big deal but you felt like you were on auto-pilot growing up and you knew you had to get out when you could, she learned that you dropped out of college two years and haven’t made any plans to go back but you would like to. you told her a couple funny stories about you and jesse growing up and she laughed at them all.
you found out that she plays guitar and that she spends time drawing and journaling. you learn that ellie was adopted when she was 14, she grew up in boston, and she has an older sister named sarah but that she doesn’t come around much anymore since she gotten married. she told you that her dad passed away from a heart attack about a year ago and since then, her and her uncle tommy.
“im sorry to hear about your dad els” you sympathized.
“its okay sweetheart, just fucking sucks sometimes.” she responded softly as she put the joint out next to her and slipped it back in her cigarette pack. instead this time she pulled out a cigarette and lit that this time. she slid it in her pocket before she stood up off the bench, offering you her hand again and said you should probably head back inside.
you grabbed her warm hand and stood up to follow her, you started the walk towards the side door but before she opened it, she turned around to you and faced you.
“hey sweetheart?” she asked.
“yes els?” you waited for her to continue, her hand still covering yours.
“im glad you came sweetheart, this was nice, i mean as nice as it gets sitting on the side of this place,” she laughed softly, you felt like she was closer than ever but maybe because you just wanted her to be, “you know, id love to do this again.. and maybe play you something on my guitar.. if you want.” she said almost nervously, feeling the urge to look away from you.
“i would love that els.” you said, looking up from staring at your hands together to smiling in her face. you cant believe she asked you, part of you prayed she would, you knew there was a connection here. she realized it too. your eye contact never faded as you stood here.
“great, im looking forward to it more than you know,” she told you sweetly. she let go out hand and you felt slight disappoint in your heart as you assumed she was going to turn around and open the door and this moment would be over. instead, she brought her hand up to your face and let it rest on your cheek as she brushed her thumb over it. the touch of her warm hand sent sparks through your body this time and you couldn’t be bothered moving as she grew closer to you.
“you have no idea how much i wanna kiss you right now.” she whispered, from only what felt like two inches away from your lips. fuck, you thought silently. she was so close to you, you could feel her breathe as she spoke.
“please do it.” you practically whined, you couldn’t take this anymore. all you wanted to do was feel her lips on yours. after you spoke, you felt her thumb move from your cheek to brushing your lips softly. the drinks you had definitely brought out your confident and the want you had for her.
“oh sweetheart,” she purred towards you, “how badly i want to but it has to be more special than this.” she said moving her thumb back to your red cheek.
“just as long as it happens el,” you responded, breathing heavier as your nerves grew in anticipation.
she nodded as she slowly moved her hand off your face and brought it down to your hip and gave it a squeeze, still smiling at you as she reached to open the door and let you through in front of her.
you walk back into the gym and went to find jesse and dina. you saw jesse at the bar and ellie went over to him, telling you she was getting more drinks. you went over to dina at the table and took a seat next to her. you asked her how the match went and she told you same as always and nothing crazy this time.
“you guys were out there for a while, whats up with that?” dina asked while smirking and wiggling her eyebrows at you.
“dina…” you laughed, “we just smoked and talked for a bit.” you replied to her.
“sureeee that’s all, we see the way you look at her!”, she squealed, “and the way she looks at you, it just seems pretty obvious.”
you laughed and told her that nothing happened yet but you did admit to her that you wanted it to.
“stop we knew it!” she laughed loudly and hit the table in excitement. you pulled your hands to your face that was full of embarrassment.
“what do you mean you knew it, was it obvious?” you gasped. your eyes darting towards ellie at the makeshift bar.
“to me and jesse yes.” she told you still smiling over the fact that her two friends maybe starting something new soon.
as you went to reply, the drinks were on the table, jesse and ellie were back already at the table pulling their chairs. the conversation between you and dina came to a halt as you all started talking. you all sat, conversing and finished your last round by the time it hit around 11 pm. you were getting tired and you were definitely drunk after all the rounds of drinks everyone bought. the matches ended an hour ago and you guys were the last few people left besides the lady behind the bar and a couple stragglers paying their tab and chatting.
“hey i think me and d are gonna head out,” he said looking over to dina, who was definitely feeling all the drinks she had, he laughed and said, “this one needs to make it home into bed. can you make it home okay? i can take you now if you need” he asked talking to you.
“no i’m gonna take her home.” ellie cut in before you could respond. you looked at her and smiled as jesse told you to text when you both got home safe. he helped dina up and they made their way to the door. your eyes followed til they left and then you turned to ellie, who was already staring at you.
“that okay sweetheart? that i take you home again?” she asked smirking towards you.
“yeah els, that’s okay.” you blushed as she stood up and put her hand out for the third time tonight. you connected your hands again. touching her had your skin was burning up. you followed her into a back office. paperwork, receipts, and random things littered the room. as you looked around and saw a decent couch, a safe in the corner and a coffee area on a little table and a large desk with folders and boxes of things you didn’t know.
you watched as ellie disconnected your hands to go over to pick up her backpack from the side of the couch and then she grabbed a jacket she had hanging over the deck of the chair to the desk, she slid it over her shoulders then grabbed a piece of paper, writing something non legible from where you were standing. she smiled when she turned towards you and held her arm out motioning to the door for you guys to exit.
the stragglers were gone and the bartender bid ellie goodnight as she walked out the front door. you walked the distance of the gym and made it to the door with ellie, she leaned over and turned the lights off and then held the door opened for you.
you told her thank you and she nodded towards you, “i think we should walk, it’s not far from your apartment.” she spoke looking towards you for confirmation as she turned and locked up the gym for the night.
“that’s okay but how are you going to get home without your car?” you asked. you didn’t want her walking home alone either, you knew she could handle herself but still, the thought made you worry.
“i’m only 5 minutes away from you actually so its not far, ill be back for my car tomorrow.” she told you. you nodded and both of you continued to walk the sidewalk in a comfortable silence next to each other. you glanced up at the sky, noticing the stars and the way the moon beamed over the city. it was so much cooler now than it was earlier and you moved to brush over the goosebumps that covered your arms. ellie noticed your movement and took off her jacket. you turned when you noticed what she was going and told her, “no its okay we’ll be there soon i don’t need it.”
“sorry sweetheart, got to make sure you stay warm.” she smirked as she put it over your shoulders and watched as you put your arms in. you smiled to her as you readjusted it and continued the walk to your place. the smell of her engulfed you and you’ve never felt so comfortable.
“its so beautiful.” you whispered, “and quiet, new york was never like this. they don’t lie when they say the city never sleeps ya know?” you finished.
the city you moved to that you wish you could escape from. the shitty and abusive relationship you wish you could leave behind. the things you tried the most to forget. you never spoke about it, you just ran. the city you wished had better memories connected with it. but now all you want is to create new memories.
when you moved across the country, you told yourself that you’re not getting into anything here because you know you need to heal from the those years of abuse and insecurity so the last thing you expected was to meet ellie and end up feeling this way about her. you don’t want this to happen and you ruin it because you aren’t okay but with her, you feel like you could be okay one day.
“i could only imagine, boston was a busy place too but not the same, it always is quiet here.” she chuckled softly.
“i love it, things finally seem calm now.” you smiled as you looked her. she took in the sight of you in her jacket and she loved it. she can only imagine seeing you wear her t shirts… or nothing at all. she shook the thoughts from her head but she just couldn’t help it. you were the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen. you were breathtaking. she couldn’t believe she’d met someone like you in this shitty small town.
the town where her dad and her moved, and the memories of them together haunted her. now that he was gone, she knew a piece of her was missing. things were incomplete without him. he was all she thought about, the guilt of what happened and how she couldn’t do anything to stop it.
the only time ellie wasn’t thinking about joel was when she was thinking about you, she was grateful that she met you. she didn’t know what this was going to turn into but she hoped it would be something. she sees the effects she has on you and she wishes she really knew how to communicate with you that she feels the same way about you.
you continued the walk in a comfortable silence, both of you wrapped in your thoughts of each another and eventually made it to the front of your building. you turned to face her with a smile,“here i am,” you spoke softly to her, not wanting the night to come to an end.
“here you are, thank you for letting me take you home sweetheart, call it peace of mind,” she admitted.
“thank you for walking me els… do you want to come up?” you said without a thought. you didn’t know if this is was the alcohol talking but you know you didn’t regret it when you said it and you wish that’s what you could blame it on but you knew you wanted this even sober.
“if you want me to sweetheart” she smirked as she responded.
you stepped closer to her as you looked at her, only a couple inches away from her face, watching her eyes move from your eyes to your lips. you knew you both could feel the tension.
“please just say yes.” you sighed wishing you could feel her lips on yours already.
“okay sweetheart, lets go.” she pulled away but connected your hands and it took you a second to recognize that she agreed. you turned around, suddenly nervous about the fact that she’s going to see where you spend your days. you opened the door to the lobby, and ellie held the door as you both walked in. she followed you up the stairs by the front, and you made your way to the front door as you held ellie’s hand in one and used the other to pull your keys from your bag.
you unlocked the door and you brought ellie in with you before the door was shut and you were locking it. you took off her jacket and put it on your coat rack and turned to look at her.
“okay it’s kind of a mess so i’m sorry but-“ you started before she cut you off.
“sweetheart, your place is practically spotless, you should see mine.” ellie laughed.
you laughed as you pulled ellie over to the green couch that took up a lot of your living room but it was a dream purchase and you loved it. you told ellie to take a seat as you walked over to the kitchen and grabbed some water for you both. as you were walking back towards her, she was digging around in her backpack. as you placed the waters down and took a seat, she pulled out weed in a jar and handed it to you.
“here this is yours.” she said.
“oh thank you! i totally forgot, do you want to smoke now- fuck i don’t think i have anything to roll with.” you told her as you went to open the windows in your living room.
instead of saying anything, she reached back into her backpack and pulled out a jar of already rolled joints.
“i came prepared.” she laughed, “and you won’t owe me anything for that.” she said, motioning to the stuff she gave you as her hands were cracking open the jar of pre-rolls.
“ellie- no i’ll give you the cash,” but she shook her head no and brought the lighter to the joint between her lips.
“no, it’s on me, don’t worry about it.” she responded as she took a hit.
“do you give other people weed for free?” you asked, looking at her as she was smoking while sitting next to you on the couch. you wish you could stay like this forever.
“only pretty girls that i like…” she said sweetly as you held eye contact as she handed you the joint.
“oh so you think i’m pretty?” you teased her as you took a hit.
“sweetheart, i think you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.” she told you. you instantly blush and look away from her, trying not to choke on the smoke you held in your lungs.
“thank you els, i think you’re beautiful.” you said to her. when you looked up, you saw her cheeks tint lightly as she grabbed the joint you held out to her.
“thanks sweetheart.” she said as she put the joint down on a cup at the table you’d been using as an ashtray and she brought her hand up and held your cheek like she did earlier. you couldn’t help yourself as you nuzzled your face into her warm hand. your eye contact only made the tension in the room worse.
“you really are beautiful… sweetheart, can i?” she asked as she looked down at your lips. you nodded and as she came closer, your lips just barely brushing, as she asked, “i need to hear you pretty girl.”
“yes please els- please just kiss me already.” you begged.
her lips were on yours before you could even realized this was actually happening. your lips moved slow together at first but you couldn’t help yourself from deepening the kiss as ellie brought her other hand up and tangled it in your hair as you moaned, her tongue slipped into your mouth, both of you tasting the weed and alcohol you consumed.
one of your hand rested against her chest and the other gripping her arm as you melted into the kiss. both ellie’s hands were in your hair now as your tongues continued to fight for dominance but you let her win and moaned again and she swallowed it as she kissed you.
ellie pulled your leg over her lap so you straddled her, never breaking your lips apart. your lips continued to move in sync as you grinded against her. her hands on your hips moving with you. your lips stay connected until you broke the kiss to come up for air and rested your forehead on hers.
“you okay sweetheart?” ellie panted as she caught her breath too.
“yes els just need a second.” you said as your eyes stayed shut while you tried to control your breathing. you couldn’t believe that you guys finally kissed. the tension was killing you both and now it’s finally happened.
“hey it’s okay, take your time sweetheart.” ellie said as she rubbed a hand along your thigh at a comfortable pace, brushing the cloth from your shorts as she moved it. she brought the other one up to your cheek and lifted your head to look at you. you looked tired and ellie didn’t want to take full advantage of you after you guys had been drinking and smoking all night.
“hey sweetheart, lets get you to bed, we’ll finish this another time i promise.” she said sweetly as you mumbled an “okay els thank you,” and moved off her lap to sit back on the couch. ellie stood up and offered her hand. you stood up and walked both of you to your bedroom.
you moved to sit on the edge of your king sized bed and ellie stood in front of you still holding your hand as you asked her if she wanted to stay the night because it was late and you didn’t want her walking home.
“sure sweetheart i’ll sleep on the couch, and only for your peace of mind.” she chuckled, thinking back to the conversation earlier.
“els we can share the bed, it’s okay, i’ll keep my hands to myself.” you joked and she laughed.
“i don’t think i’d be complaining if you couldn’t but i’m okay on the couch.” ellie insisted.
“els please just lay with me.” you said looking up at her as she moved her hand to rest on your cheek again.
“okay sweetheart.” she finally agreed.
you smiled up at her and you took ellie’s hand from your face and guided her into the bathroom connected to your room. she watched as you bent down and opened the sink cabinet and grabbed a toothbrush. you turned around and handed it to her with a smile. you guys brushed your teeth and then went back into your bedroom.
ellie stood here as you moved across the room to your dresser, and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts from your drawer and handed them over to ellie. she told you thank you and you smiled at her. ellie walked into the bathroom to change and you walked back to the dresser. you stripped yourself of your shirt and bra before throwing on a different oversized tee and changing your underwear. you didn’t even realize you were soaked after what happened on the couch.
ellie watched you as she leaned against the bathroom door frame as you untangled the sides of your underwear after you pulled them up.
“you’re perfect”, she thought in head before speaking out loud. “thanks sweetheart.” you turned around when ellie spoke, sending her a smile before you moved to your side of the bed, you grabbed the duvet and moved it so you both were able to get in your bed.
you and ellie laid facing each other in a comfortable silence as you were both growing incredibly tired. you felt your eyes starting to get heavy and felt ellie’s hand brush your hair back from your face so you kept your eyes open to look at her.
“el?” you whispered.
“yes sweetheart?” she spoke quietly back to you.
“i really like you… i don’t know if this is too early but it just feels right.”
“i feel it too sweetheart, i like you too so don’t worry,” ellie said softly, hand still holding your face, “now get some sleep, we’ll talk more in the morning pretty girl.”
“goodnight els.” you whispered.
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fangswbenefits · 4 months
Text
The Arrangement (8) - Revelations
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Chapter summary: You finally confront Ava, but the conversation takes an unexpected turn.
Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav
Warnings: Innuendo. Mentions of abuse and trauma.
Word count: 5.3k
Series Masterlist
You found him by the edge of a cliff overlooking Baldur's Gate.
The first rays of light began to spill into the morning sky in hues of yellow fused with orange. You would never tire of watching the city you called home being engulfed in such beauty.
“Enjoying the view?”
Astarion was holding a somewhat mellow smile on his lips as he turned to face you.
“I hadn't seen this much colour bathing the city in over two hundred years.”
You stopped next to him, looping an arm around his and resting your face against his shoulder.
“It's beautiful, isn't it?”
He sighed. “I do not want to get too attached to it. In case things go awry, that is.”
‘Awry’ meaning that he wouldn't be able to ascend…
It always made your heart clench to think about how much Astarion still held on to that.
But you didn't want to think about such things for now.
For now, you were more than content to share this moment with him.
“The sun looks beautiful on you,” you said truthfully.
It wasn't exactly a challenge, but you adored praising and stroking his ego.
A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. “As most things do, darling."
"That is true.”
He then placed his cold hand atop yours. “As you once did.”
His words hit you with such force that you felt your chest too heavy all of a sudden.
You glanced up at him, meeting his soft crimson eyes. “Astarion…”
Would he ever move on?
Would he ever move on from you?
He offered a defeated smile. “I know, I know. Just friends, right?”
You nodded. “Yes.”
He didn't utter another word as he looked on ahead.
You kept your grip around him, enjoying his firmness and how he made you feel so safe and comfortable.
Deep down, you were just thankful he couldn't see the single tear that streamed down your face.
The cold and wet trail brought you back to witness the sight of the sun emerging on the horizon line. 
You pulled your legs up so you could rest your chin on your knees, hugging yourself as the breathtaking view filled your vision.
How you wished you could share this with him like many times before.
As lovers.
As friends.
You wiped the tear away with the back of your hand as sadness spread inside you.
There was no point in dwelling in the impossible. At least until you found a way for him to experience all the colour the world had to offer with no limitations.
Sleep hadn't come to you this night and it wasn't because of nightmares or the fact that Astarion had left you painfully yearning for his touch.
Your mind was just all over the place, trying to make sense of how things felt with him after that conversation.
Truth be told, you were more than happy with the occasional intimacy and giving him space.
But his taunting words still lingered in your mind.
You were certain he craved more than a friendship, but how much of that spread beyond carnal lust was something you weren't sure about.
Maybe even Astarion didn't know.
As much as you longed for more, you still wanted to mend your friendship first and bridge the distance that had come between you two. 
As you pushed yourself from the bed and slipped into your robe, you took a quick glance at the mirror in front of you.
Eyes puffy and reddened paired with deep eyebags.
Wonderful.
You heaved a deep sigh as you exited the room, heading towards the kitchen area to brew some tea.
The door to his room was firmly shut and you hurried past it with bare feet.
The entire house was still swallowed in silence and darkness.
You quickly lit up a few candles before reigniting the fireplace and putting the kettle on.
The familiar squeak of the door to his room filled your ears.
As the water came to a boil, you poured a few herbs inside the cup as you poured the scalding liquid.
You heard him call out your name and your stomach immediately fluttered as he came into view, slowly pacing towards you.
“How did you know it was me?”
Astarion's lips curled into a smile. “I know the sound of your footsteps by heart.”
There was no trace of deceit in his remark.
His voice rang true and not as a mere attempt at flustering you with honeyed words.
He meant it and you felt the warm embrace of his presence tightly enveloping you.
Astarion had learned the way to your heart like no one else had ever tried to. 
He could crawl under your skin and have you yearn for him like no one else could.
And he did all of this effortlessly and like second nature.
You returned a warm smile, feeling the addictive embrace of his presence.
He felt like the home you longed to come back to.
As you moved to sit on the sofa nearby, enjoying the warmth that radiated from the cup in your hands, he eventually sat next to you, crimson eyes meeting yours and, for a moment, you held your breath.
He was your home.
“You look horrible.”
A snarky one.
You chuckled at his bluntness, taking a sip. “Didn't get much sleep.”
“Nightmares again?”
“No. My mind was just busy…”
He slowly nodded. “Was it too much? What we did?”
You glared at him in surprise. “What? No. What about you?”
His eyes narrowed. “I wanted more.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
He crossed his legs, adjusting his elegant shirt. “It wasn't nearly enough.”
“You were the one to stop it…”
“Because I had to. Gods know how long it took to… calm down, so to speak.”
The implication that dangled from his words wasn't particularly subtle.
Oh.
Oh.
Your cheeks flared up. “I… didn't hear you…”
Astarion flashed a teasing smile. “I know how to avoid being heard, unlike a certain someone.”
Bad timing had you nearly choking on your tea.
“Careful, darling. You'll get all wet… again.”
The nerve!
You shot him murderous glare, wiping your chin.
Then the two fell into a comfortable silence.
You melted into the backrest of the sofa, cradling the cup in your hands, humming a tune that you had almost forgotten about.
“I find myself missing our journey, you know?” he said after a while.
“Even having to play the hero?”
He tapped his chin pensively. “Even that, as surprising as it sounds. I could have done without all your ridiculous acts of heroism, but I grew to enjoy indulging in some of them.”
Your heart thudded happily at his honesty.
“Who would have thought that you’d find joy in being selfless,” you teased with a smile.
He lifted one finger. “Do not misunderstand. I still come first. I spent too many centuries not being able to and I won't give that up now.”
You nodded, fully understanding his line of thinking.
In the meantime, your hand had dropped in between you two and you felt coldness reach your fingers.
You looked down, startled, only to be met with his fingers gently brushing against yours.
And just like clockwork, your heart sped up.
Astarion had his eyes fixed on the swirling flames that emanated from the fireplace.
Little by little, his fingers began to intertwine with yours until his hand gripped you tightly.
Your mind blanked for a moment at how unexpected this was.
In time, his cold skin began to warm up against yours.
And then it dawned on you that he had never held your hand this way.
He had helped you up on your feet more times than you could count.
He had gripped your hand in his as both of you hurried along collapsing halls and while being chased by the most vicious of creatures.
But he had never held your hand as if seeking for silent comfort.
You shifted so you could rest your head on his shoulder.
He tensed slightly under your touch, but eventually relaxed and you seized the opportunity to melt into his side, enjoying the familiar scent of bergamot and rosemary.
Home.
You weren't sure how much time had passed, but the tear in your cup had gone tepid and you began to feel guilty.
You had considered not telling him about confronting Ava.
But you didn't want to lie and hide anything from him, especially if it concerned him in the first place.
You pulled slightly away from him and he met your gaze.
“I'm going to meet Ava tonight.”
You expected an angry outburst of indignation from him, but were met with an inquisitive glare instead.
“Why doesn't that surprise me at all?”
That was it?
“Wait… you are not going to talk me out of it?”
At this, he faintly chuckled, still firmly gripping your hand in his.
“Honestly, darling, when has that ever worked?”
Point taken.
He knew of your stubbornness all too well.
“Besides, do you intend on killing her?”
You widened your eyes. “I – no? I don't think so?”
Though you couldn't swear on this until you were actually absolutely sure she was as harmless as he claimed her to be.
“Then, you have my blessing.”
You then narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him. “You don't even want to go with me?”
“Do you want me to?”
“It's not necessary.”
He shrugged. “Then I won't.”
Astarion was acting uncharacteristically accepting of your intrusion, and that rang a plethora of alarm bells in your head.
It was as if he knew you'd have no reason to harm her.
“Why are you so… calm about this?”
His eyes met yours. “I am well aware you can turn Ava into a pile of dust should she cross your path. But I don't believe you will do such a thing.”
“Why not? I don't trust her.”
His grip around your fingers eased slightly. “I don't expect you to, but you do trust me, don't you?”
“Yes.”
You didn't hesitate for a second. After all, you had trusted Astarion through things that most people would have staked him for. The two of you were way past the uncertainty of not trusting each other's intentions.
It was more evident that the glaring issue that plagued your relationship was rooted in miscommunication and not mistrust.
“And I trust her.”
That ground on your nerves. “But why?”
“Because I have to.”
You immediately dropped his hand, turning in your seat to fully face him, already feeling the familiar irritation that came with him not being fully open with you at times.
“Astarion, you need to start telling me why you hold her in such high regards,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You can also trust me. Whatever it is… just tell me.”
He glared at you with a faint scowl. “She is taking my blood with the intention of lessening some vampirism weaknesses.”
Oh?
“Such as?”
“Well, the insatiable hunger is the main focus.”
You stared at him in silence, not quite sure what to make of this.
The Wish Spell could grant him the ability to walk in the sun again, but this seemed even more ambitious.
And dangerous.
“Obviously, this is all rather theoretical, but it seemed like a sound prospect,” he went on, sinking into the sofa with an exasperated sigh. “As selfish as I am, I also considered how this could be helpful to the spawn in the Underdark.”
His words took you quite aback.
“This… seems too good to be true,” you said hesitantly.
“Oh, I'm aware. That is why I am keeping my expectations in check.”
You really, really wanted to hate Ava.
But if her motifs were truly this altruistic, then you were going to have a hard justifying that feeling, which provided another added layer of anger altogether.
“So, if you want to talk to her, you are free to do so. Seeing is believing or so they say,” he said with a witty grin.
You sighed.
Astarion was a bad planner.
No. He was a terrible planner.
He could identify the end goal, but would have no clue how to get there and would merely make adjustments as he went along, hoping for the best.
Luck had been on his side as of late, but you lacked that optimism.
And he obviously saw that splattered across your face.
“Oh, please. I know that look – just say it,” he scoffed.
You weren't even sure what you wanted to say.
Deep down, you felt extremely protective of him and didn't appreciate that she was exchanging lessons in intimacy for his blood.
It all seemed very one-sided and the promise of also helping him – and by extension, the spawn in the underdark – still seemed unrealistically… convenient.
“Are you even sure any of this will work? Has she made any progress with your blood?”
“Some progress. Not enough to keep me too hopeful, but I will take anything these days.”
You could sympathise with the sentiment, but…
“I still think there is something off about her.”
Astarion just looked as amused as ever. “No jealousy?”
You rolled your eyes. “No.”
“Well, she would have nothing to gain from sending us both to prison,” he said. “She knows I exclusively feed on you and that I do need to feed regularly.”
The nonchalant way in which he uttered those words, brought a wave of heat to your face, as the events from a few hours earlier resurfaced in your mind.
There was a hint of intimacy in the act itself, but also in the aftermath. Astarion's senses would be sharpened as your blood coursed through his body.
“Seems like I broke your concentration, darling,” he said teasingly, effectively snapping you from your thoughts.
You jolted briefly and then scowled, annoyed that he could see right through you so easily.
“Don't flatter yourself.”
He gave you a devious smile. “I don't have to. Not when your body provides the finest flattery there is.”
Gods.
You wished you could turn off the effect his honeyed words always had on you.
Clearing your throat, you straightened up in your seat. “Very well, then. I am willing to be enlightened.”
A teasing smile tugged faintly at his lips. “Good girl.”
Your heart skipped a beat.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
Regaining your composure, you said, “Wyll is going there with me tonight.”
Astarion drew a sleazy grin this time. “Oh, so that was what the two of you were plotting yesterday.”
You rolled your eyes.
“And here I thought sweet Wyll had finally mustered the courage to take you out on a lavish date,” he said with a dramatic and forceful pout. “Seems like romance is dead, after all.”
For some odd reason, Astarion was under the impression that Wyll harboured feelings for you that surpassed friendship.
But what Astarion didn't know was that your heart was too full of him to allow room for anyone else.
His taunting words created the perfect opening for you to return the gesture.
“No jealousy?”
His smile only grew wider. “Do you want me to be jealous?”
You were entering his territory, and should tread lightly. 
“Maybe you should be jealous,” you whispered.
He shifted closer to you and you held your breath.
“And why is that? Why should I be jealous of your friendship with him?”
Gods, he was good .
Your heart drummed faster in your chest as his face drew near.
He was a master at disarming you with carefully laid out traps whilst using his words as alluring bait.
“He's very… friendly.”
You inwardly cringed at your ridiculous remark, which earned a chuckle from Astarion.
At this point, he was so close you almost feel his cool lips on yours.
“Well, hopefully not this friendly.”
That was it.
He was going to kiss you and you couldn't give a damn about it.
But before he could do so, the faint rhythmic thud of footsteps pulled you out of immersion, and the two of you pulled apart at once.
Lae'zel.
She reached the bottom of the staircase, eyeing both of you like she had just run into the most disappointing event of her life.
“The sun has yet to fully rise, and the two of you are already at it again,” she said with a scowl. “Wasn't the coupling from last night enough?”
Your jaw dropped open in sheer mortification.
Surely she hadn't… heard anything… right?
“Where is your sense of decorum, Lae'zel?” Astarion clicked his tongue, leaning back against the sofa once more.
She gave him a stern glare. “You wouldn't know decorum if it hit you in that pale face of yours, Astarion.”
He chuckled. “My, my… someone is feisty today.”
“The sounds you two made could raise the dead from their graves,” she said, moving swiftly towards the front door with her sword keeping her company. “I am not sure how much more of this torture I can take.”
You stood up at once, feeling embarrassment take over. “Oh! We… uh… Astarion was just feeding and–”
She held a hand up. “Spare me the grotesque details. I'll be going out on a hunt. Don't expect me for lunch.”
And without a further exchange, she slipped through the door.
Astarion was now on his feet and heading towards the staircase.
Somehow, you couldn't help but feel a tad of disappointment as he left your side.
His company was something you reckoned you'd never tire from.
“See you later, darling. And do fix that lovely face of yours,” he teased dramatically. “Rose water works like a charm.”
And you couldn't hold back an endearing smile.
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The night came quicker than you had hoped.
Confronting Ava made you feel truly uneasy, especially after learning some more about her.
As promised, Wyll had come to you, escorted by two Fists. The mage slayer stationed outside, quickly joined the four of you, and you felt the magic within you dip dangerously low from her presence.
The journey to The Blushing Mermaid proved to be rather uneventful and you were more than thankful for it.
“Does Astarion know about this?”
You nodded. “He has also told me the reason why she's taking his blood.”
Wyll's eyes met yours and you could see the tension on his face. “Whatever could be the reason?”
Fortunately, the two Fists walked far behind the two of you to preserve some privacy.
“She wants to lessen the effects of vampiric hunger.”
He arched an eyebrow and you approached the familiar tavern.
“That sounds too convenient .”
You almost pulled Wyll into a kiss as he unknowingly validated your concerns.
“Exactly. Maybe I am overthinking it, but I need to make sure nonetheless.”
He nodded firmly.
Those crowding the entrance immediately made way for you to walk inside, and you heard a few salutes as others inside bowed to Wyll.
Bork approached the counter with a tilted smile on his face. “Duke of Ravengard. To what do we owe the pleasure? Hope we are not in trouble?”
A few drunkards nearby erupted in laughter.
“Unless you have indeed done something unlawful, I wouldn't worry too much, Bork.”
He offered Wyll a forced smile, which he didn't return.
“We are looking for Ava,” you chimed in impatiently.
His face instantly dropped. “Ava? Is she in trouble?"
Honestly, what was with everyone and this woman? Was she some goddess in disguise?
“We just wish to talk to her,” Wyll answered.
Bork hesitated at first, but glared at the two Fists flanking you. “First floor. Third room to your left.”
You nodded and swiftly made your way upstairs, feeling your heart hammering fast in your chest as you paced along the corridor.
Wyll knocked thrice on the large door.
It swung open almost immediately, and Ava came into view, holding a knowing smile.
“I was expecting you.”
A swirl of nausea settled in your stomach.
She extended one hand, standing to the side so you could walk in.
“As pleased as I am to be visited by our Duke, I shall ask for you not to enter.”
You immediately turned to see Wyll scowl deeply. “Tonight I'm no Duke – I'm her friend and you shall let me enter.”
Ava tapped on the door lightly. “These are my quarters, and unless I am being charged with wrongdoing, I have the right to decide who to invite inside, Duke .”
The two Fists were gripping the handle of their swords, ready to draw them.
Wyll motioned for the to be at ease and turned his head to you. “I will be waiting outside.”
Ava wiggled her fingers dismissively, further gnawing at your nerves.
“Do not try anything witty, hunter,” Wyll said in a tone you hadn't heard since he last faced Mizora.
She chuckled. “I have abandoned those ways. You may simply call me Ava.”
But before he could reply, she pushed the door closed in one swing and glanced at you with an excessively sweet smile.
“So? I don't believe you came all the way here to simply gawk at me.”
You cleared your throat. “I have a few things I need to discuss with you.”
“Of course. I would be surprised if you didn't.”
Your patience was running thin.
“It concerns Astarion.”
“Still not surprised,” she said with a tilted smile. “I'm all ears.”
“He's told me about you.”
“Hopefully not everything, but do go on.”
She moved to a table and poured a red liquid into a goblet. “Can I tempt you with some red wine?”
You scowled and she laughed. “It is not poisoned, though I do understand your hesitation.” She then took a long sip.
Glancing around the room, you realised it could easily pass off as the inside of an apothecary store. There were endless rows of shelves and cupboards that housed countless vials of glass with suspicious content.
There was a small fire burning by the window with a large flask set right above, the flames barely reaching the bottom as a deep dark red liquid gurgled.
Ava sat on a lavish armchair, holding the goblet to her lips.
“I know you're taking his blood for some experiment in regards to vampirism,” you began, keeping your voice steady. “Even to supposedly help the vampire spawn in the Underdark.”
Her pleasant face wavered momentarily. “He's offering it to me. Freely.”
“You are taking advantage of him.”
“I am not taking advantage of anything. It's a mere transaction that we have both agreed upon.”
“Blood for intimacy?”
“That seems rather… crass.”
“You are taking advantage of his… wounds…”
“Why are you so hellsbent on accusing me of being the one taking advantage of him? He also has much to win from this arrangement.”
“Because you have the upper hand here. The price for a chance at healing from his wounds seems rather unbalanced,” you said, feeling heat flare throughout your entire body. “You get his blood, which is a sure thing, and he gets a ‘perhaps’ on all fronts: intimacy and that hunger “cure” you're promising.”
Ava glared at you with eyes slightly narrowed, chin resting on the back of her hand.
“There are wounds that take time to heal. Some never heal at all, my dear.”
“I'm aware.”
“Are you? Are you, really?” Ava said with a scoff. “I am not the enemy here. Your vitriol against me is rooted in something primal.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Primal?”
“Is it jealousy, I wonder?”
You clenched your fists. “It is not. Whatever bond you think you share with him is superficial and frail. There's nothing to be jealous of.”
“Actually, I do believe your words… it is not jealousy, indeed,” she said, tapping a long nail on her chin. “But rather… protectiveness.”
You remained silent.
“I dare say that protectiveness can blind even the wisest.”
“I am not blinded. I can see there is something unsettling about you.”
“You look, but you do not see,” she said as she took a sip of her wine. “Your attachment to him is your weakness.”
“Caring for others isn't a weakness.”
“You taught him that, did you?”
The faint mockery wasn't lost on you, and it made your nails dig further into your palms, regning in your temper as best as you could.
“He doesn't need to be taught anything. Astarion may need some guidance, as we all do from time to time.”
Ava merely chuckled. “May I see your neck?”
What?
Her words caught you off guard, but you did not move an inch to comply with her request.
“Ah… your reluctance is answer enough,” she tutted. “He has fed on you recently, hasn't he?”
Now, that immediately had your stomach turn in revulsion, realising just how transparent she truly was.
“So this is what it's all about – you just want him to feed on you instead.”
Ava rolled her eyes with a forced yawn. “On the contrary. Of course, I have vaguely wondered what it feels like, but Astarion is far too devoted to your blood to even entertain the idea.”
“Then why did you complain to me about him not feeding on you?”
She crossed her legs elegantly under her emerald green dress. “I was merely taunting you. Again, his devotion gets in the way.”
“I wouldn't necessarily call it ‘devotion’.”
“Oh, but I would. See, Astarion's bond to you is exquisite and much welcome… to say the least.”
Her flowery words were really testing your patience now.
“Elaborate.”
“The last time he fed on you and gave me his blood was right when you left The Blushing Mermaid. A few days later, I tried his blood on some spawn in the city outskirts that have taken to living underground in search of a cure.” She paused briefly to take yet another sip from the goblet. “The results were vastly different from my previous experiments.”
“Can you just get straight to the point for once?”
“Oh, you really are a feisty one…” Ava said with a teasing smile. “As I was saying, the results were rather interesting and unexpected. The spawn reported feeling sated much quicker than before, but the effect wore off in the first hour, which was a disappointment.”
You froze instantly. “You're… using my blood?”
“Well, yes… and no,” she said in a casual tone. “Your blood mixed with his, that is. Before that day, I had never tried his blood after he fed on you.”
You felt as though you might be sick as your stomach lurched violently.
“This is… I – does he know?”
“Well, I haven't been given the chance, considering how the two of you got thrown into prison,” she said with a shrug. “And I am fully aware you think I am somehow responsible for it.”
You were still so taken aback by her earlier revelation, that you had momentarily forgotten about that detail.
“Now, what would I gain from setting you two up, especially after I just told you this.”
She did have a point.
Seemingly.
“You mentioned other spawn – why not use their blood instead? Why his?”
“Oh, darling… ” 
The way that word rolled out of her tongue grated on your nerves, and you realised only one person could masterfully use it without provoking a visceral reaction.
“Astarion isn't really your regular spawn, is he? Even when he was under Cazador Szarr's influence, he would still rebel against his commands while his siblings cowered in fear of defying their master.”
An overwhelming sense of dread took over at once.
Astarion has revealed how Cazador had kept him buried alive for a whole year as punishment for letting a potential victim go.
He had clawed his hands raw from despair as he wished for death to just take him.
Even remembering this vaguely, made your heart hurt for him.
“How do you know that?”
Ava rose to her full height, brushing her long and dark curls from her shoulders.
She paced towards a desk and began ruffling through pieces of parchment.
“I was a monster hunter for over twenty years and my group kept a close eye on Cazador and his spawn,” she said, not lifting her eyes. “Astarion had been on our radar for a while, but he was quite experienced in slipping through the cracks whenever we tried to go after him.”
You swallowed.
“Imagine our surprise when he suddenly goes missing. My partners were dumbfounded beyond belief. No vampire spawn is able to resist the compell of their master for that long.”
She then moved back to the armchair, flipping through a couple of scrolls.
“We thought he had met his demise somehow, so imagine my surprise when I find out that he's back in Baldur's Gate. Walking in the sunlight and next to… you.”
You weren't sure where this conversation was headed and you weren't sure you wanted to know.
Ava took your silence as encouragement. “Cazador was attempting to become the Vampire Ascendant and we were set on stopping him, but were instead met with his manor bathed in blood and corpses littering the place.”
So they had gotten there after your group stopped the ritual and prevented the rite from taking place.
“So now you're suddenly an alchemist who wants to help vampire spawn? Why the change of heart?”
Ava met your eyes and her face was void of any amusement. “Astarion and I connect in more ways than you think.”
You scoffed, crossing your arms and waiting to hear some circus clown reasoning.
“I wasn't a monster hunter by choice,” she said sternly. “I was born into it and molded into their ways.”
Your defensive demeanour wavered momentarily.
“I shall not go into details, but all you need to know is that once Cazador Szarr was gone, I was driven by curiosity and sought Astarion out so I could learn more about what makes him so different from all the other spawn I've come across.”
You narrowed your eyes at her. “So you just left your group? Just like that?”
She snickered. “They were killed.”
“What? By whom?”
She snickered as she took another sip. “By me.”
You were left speechless.
“I thought that if a vampire spawn could break the chains from his master and embrace freedom again, so could I.”
She let out a chuckle, emptying the goblet in one sip.
“So, I offered to help him as he's helped me. No more, no less.”
You really wanted to hate her.
You wanted her to give you a solid reason to be suspicious of her intentions.
But…
“So you genuinely care for him?”
She nodded. “I do. And if Astarion were to walk through that door and ask for us to part ways, I would accept it. It would essentially kill my research until I found someone remotely adequate, but I would make peace with it.”
This conversation had not taken the turn you expected.
At all.
“I can see the confusion in your eyes. You truly believed I am out to get you when I'm probably your best option right now.”
“Best option? In regards to what?”
She extended her arm towards a chair in front of her. “Take a seat.”
You did so, reluctantly, never letting your guard down and her out of your sight.
“Cazador Szarr had many enemies, but he also had many allies. People who were not pleased with his death.”
She now had your undivided attention and you felt your palms sweat.
There wad actually someone going after you? After Astarion?
“I have ways to find who they are.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” you immediately asked, feeling rather unsettled by her words.
She clicked her tongue. “I need assurances first, and I have a proposition to make.”
You saw the flash of a knife emerging from her sleeve and a tall glass container being placed on the table by her side.
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TBC
Ao3
Series Masterlist
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whorekneecentral · 3 months
Text
Family's Growing
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Kylian Mbappe x Fem!Reader
Warnings: kylian has baby fever, dirty thoughts, baby talk, breeding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, penetrative sex (p in v), breeding/pregnancy kink goes burrrr, daddy used in a sexual context, begging, creampies, finger fucking and sucking lol, cum play.
Word Count: 1,615
Author's Note: okay I'm finally back on track with these - yes I know Tuesday is over but please look past that lol.
merry smutmas series
--
Kylian finds himself swooning over how good you are with his niece and nephew, the thought of having a family with you spins around his head. 
Christmas was a time for family and that seemed to be the only thing on your boyfriend's mind.
The two of you had gone over to his parents' place for Christmas dinner, all of his cousins were there as well as their kids. Kylian was not the favourite uncle for no reason, all of them knew they were getting good gifts in bountiful amounts too.
The tree in the living room that was once full with presents were now opened, the floor covered in wrapping paper. It was only two kids, his cousin's son and daughter, and Ethan if you counted him as well; and yet, it seemed like Kylian had bought the entirety of Paris for them.
Kylian watches as you lay on the floor with his niece and nephew, the three of you putting together a tower made of legos, whispering and giggling as you built the tower.
He smiles to himself as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. A part of him isn't sure what he did to be so lucky, to have a career as great as his and to have a girlfriend who's so loving and kind and supportive. You loved his family like your own, right now was a prime example.
Seeing you with kids always did something for him, you had a maternal nature about you, anyone who met you could see that.
The thought crossed his mind many times, how nice it would be to start a family with you. You two had spoken about it ages ago, when you began dating. You both decided that you'd revisit the idea when you were more stable in life and that you were now. Both you and Kylian were stable in careers, you two lived together, you had been together for a while and you had the means to raise a child.
He couldn't see where it would be a no.
As much as he wanted a kid with you, the idea of making a kid was much more appealing.
Clothes on the floor, hands all over each other, watching as you begged him to cu- "You okay?" Ethan asks his older brother, breaking his thought.
Kylian clears his throat. "Yeah," he nods, a smile on his face as you glance over your shoulder at him.
"They love her," Ethan nods towards you with the kids, "y/n's always been good with them."
"She was good with you too," Kylian teased his brother. You two had begun dating just before his World Cup win, the two of you barely 18 years old and Ethan was 12 - still a child in his brother's eyes and he always will be.
Ethan rolls his eyes at his brother's comment.
After some time, the kids started to get tired which was their parents' signal to head out. You and Kylian left not too shortly after that as well.
Your boyfriend finds you in the kitchen after he changes for bed, his arms wrapped around you from behind whilst your elbows propped on the counter as you waited for the kettle to boil.
"Something on your mind, baby?" You asked him, twirling the string attached to your tea bag.
"Just thinking."
"About?"
Kylian hums. "Kids."
His answer catches you off guard, you turn to face the man with a confused look on your face. "Kids?"
He shrugs, smiling. "Seeing you with the little ones today, I don't know - it got me thinking. It'd be nice to have our own, don't you think?" His hand rests on your hip, thumb disappearing under the hem of your shirt.
A glance at your boyfriend's hand, your eyebrows raised. "Do you really mean having kids or making kids?"
You can't help the laugh, kissing your boyfriend. The man wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. Kylian picks you up, holding you tightly as he kisses you and carries you over to the couch.
Kylian puts you down, sitting on the couch for a moment as he looks at you. You take that as your sign to undress.
The silk shorts sliding down your smooth legs, pooling by your ankles before you step out of them, you pull off the tank top and that leaves you in the blue set he loves. You reach behind to unhook your bra but Kylian stops you, “leave it on.” 
He pulls you by your waist back to him, his hand slipping down to rest on your ass before giving it a smack. You’re quiet, looking down at your boyfriend on the couch. 
He puts you to lay on the couch, he’s sat between your legs with one on either side of him. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him and Kylian drags his fingers up your thigh, moving to your clothed pussy. 
“I like this,” he tells you, fingers rubbing over the blue lace. 
You smile, “I know.” 
He pulls the panties to the side, his eyes fixed on your pussy. He gives you no warning, pushing his fingers into you. The sound leaving your mouth was like heaven on earth to him. 
Kylian's fingers curl upwards, your back arching at the feeling. 
“Keeks, please.” your hand reaches down to wrap on his wrist but he swats your hand away, managing to pull both to rest on your stomach and his free hand over your hands, pinning them to your stomach. 
You try to wiggle your hands away from him, trying to grab on something. “Behave.” He tells you, adding another finger. 
Your face twists, pleasure all across it and our hands stop wiggling, he smiles, satisfied. 
Kylian can feel it; he knows you’re close, you’re squeezing on his fingers, your thighs trying to close, trying to squirm away from the pleasure. 
He can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the blue lace you’re wrapped up in and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. He shifts to lay on his stomach between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt. 
Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking. He wants you to look at him. 
Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. 
Kylian knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more, he gives in. 
"Please," you whimpered.
"What, mon ange ? Tell me."
You look at the man between your legs. "Fuck me."
There was no hidden meaning behind it; no scolding, no need to hurry him up - you wanted him and that was it. 
“Gonna let me fill you up princess? Hm?” He asks, shifting to line himself up with your cunt. You nodded eagerly, your leg hitching on his hip.
At this point, you can’t do much except lay there and take it; not that you don’t want to because you do, you really do. 
The tip of his cock brushing over your clit before moving to push into you. Your back arches, hips jutting forward to meet his.
Hard and rough, not enough to hurt you but enough to tell you that he's in charge.
Kylian wanted to hear you.
His hand now on your chin. “C’mon amour, let me hear all those pretty sounds you make.” He says, the angle you were at puts him deeper than before.
The slightest movements and you can feel it in your stomach. It’s like he can hear your thoughts because his hand moves from your chin to your stomach. His big hand spread over your stomach, “you’d look so pretty with a baby in you, hm?”
Kylian lets you fall back onto the couch, both of his hands on your hips. “Maybe I should fuck one into you.”
His name falls from your lips like a prayer, he could listen to you say it over and over again. You were close enough that you could taste it.
“So good for me, you take it so well.” He whispers to you, kissing under your ear.
“Uh huh,” you breathe, leaning back against him, your legs felt like jello under you. Your head drops back onto the couch, begging him to let you cum.
He lets you drop back, back arched for him once again. He feels you cum around him, the wetness covering his cock. It’s not long after, followed by a few sloppy thrusts, that Kylian cums too.
The tip of his cock brushing between your folds, spreading his cum all over your pussy.
He pulls away, smiling at the whimper he gets from you. His fingers replacing his cock, covered in his cum when you roll over, he sticks his fingers in your mouth and he doesn’t have to tell you what to do.
“Good girl,” he hums, watching as your tongue laps over his fingers. Kylian pulls his fingers away, leaning down to kiss you. A mess of the two of you, not sure where one of you starts and the other ends.
You lay there for a while, Kylian on top of you, your leg tossed on his hip as his head rests on your sternum. Your fingers drag over his shoulders, the man humming quietly.
"We should do that again," he whispers.
You laughed, "keep it up and we'll end up with a baby by next Christmas."
Kylian nods, kissing you. "Let's try again then."
--
taglist: @nosugarallspice  @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16  @books-and-netflix-pls  @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade  @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @trentsfav @trentsmyfave @noturbabe22
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amberlynnmurdock · 3 months
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Neighbor Pt. 3
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Matt Murdock x Reader
Summary: Matt hears her come home from a date, and interrupts when he hears it go south.
Words: just above 2k
A/N: So this series is basically different excerpts, so the chapters may not fall right into each other if that makes sense... so here's another night of them being neighbors! Hope you enjoy :)
Genres: light angst, comfort, fluff
Part 2
Matt came home to a quiet and cold apartment. After jiggling his keys in the lock a few times, his musty old door finally opened, and he was met with the cool draft that came in from his even older windows. Pushing the door closed with his back, he sighed deeply and dropped his suitcase on the floor. He hung his head low. 
Today was long. Too many papers at the office, too many people to talk to… or maybe, the night before, he spent too much time out as Daredevil and barely got any sleep. Or maybe he had trouble falling asleep. Matt wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. He was finally home. 
It seemed like everyone else in the building had livelier apartments than he did—he could smell spaghetti from an apartment below him, with jazz music playing in the background. Another apartment had children laughing at a cartoon. Another one was having guests over for dinner. Even Fran, the apartment’s snoop, had brownies in the oven. Of course—it was Friday night, and people like them had plans. 
Their apartments were all warm and inviting. But not his. It was cold and empty, and nothing played in the background—only these heightened sounds in his ears and his thoughts. His ever so dreadful thoughts. 
But what about hers?
He cocked his head against the door to listen closely to her apartment. What was she doing? Nothing seemed to be going on. No tea was on the kettle. Not even the sound of pages being turned in a book. She wasn’t home. 
Matt furrowed his brows at this—he knew she had the morning shift today because they had their usual morning greeting and walked each other out. Part of him was disappointed he couldn’t share his lonesome with her, but the other part felt guilty because, of course, she had plans. While Matt was reclusive and preferred the dark, she was friendly, inviting, and liked to be out. Why would she waste her radiance on being locked up in her apartment? 
So, Matt did what he normally did. Instead of being at home alone with his thoughts, he changed into his Daredevil gear and waited on his rooftop for something, anything, to call for him. Eventually, it did, but something was missing tonight. 
***
He wasn’t out for long. 
He was missing punches, throwing them too soon, otherwise just overall thrown off. Something was off. After stopping a robbery, and nearly taking a bullet to his shoulder, Matt tapped out. He sulked in his gear all the way home and stomped down the steps from his roof, back to his cold and empty apartment. 
It was nearly midnight. Some people in the building were awake, and others getting ready for bed. And still, she wasn’t home. 
Is she okay? 
Matt pushed any thought of worry away. Pushed any thought or feeling of attachment away. After all, she was just his neighbor. His neighbor who sometimes said hello to him, who sometimes dropped a book off in braille for him. Not his emotional support neighbor. Just a neighbor, whom Matt couldn’t keep himself from listening to her calming presence. 
So what if he liked her anyway, just a little bit? 
She would never get involved with a complicated man like him, who held so many secrets and even more baggage. 
Plus, they were neighbors. It could neverwork out. 
Matt immediately stripped himself of his Daredevil gear and stepped into a hot, steaming shower, to wash these thoughts of her away. Wash this awful night away. Wash the dried blood on his skin away. 
He lay in his bed, silk sheets sprawled over his half-naked body. He had his hands behind his head on his pillow, senseless eyes staring up at the ceiling. The building was winding down, finally. No loud conversations, no ovens beeping. Just people getting into bed and soft snores. 
And then, he heard it. 
The front door of the building unlocked. Footsteps make their way up the stairs. That familiar and therapeutic scent of warm vanilla filled his senses. Finally, she was home. 
But she wasn’t alone.
“I had a good time tonight,” he heard her say on her way up the stairs. Heavy footsteps followed closely behind her. Matt listened to her heartbeat and furrowed his brows—she wasn’t telling the truth. 
“Me too,” a smooth, masculine voice said. “Are you sure you don’t want to have some coffee?”
“Oh yeah,” she said nervously, masked by a high-pitched tone. She was being overly nice. Cautious. “We had so much food at that restaurant. I’m stuffed. I’m honestly ready for bed,” she laughed, again, a quiver in her laugh. Matt sat up on his elbows as he listened closely. 
“Me too,” the man repeated, in a tone Matt didn’t like. Conniving. Entitled. There was an underlying message. 
“Well, here’s my place,” she announced, placing a hand on her door. Matt noticed she often forgot to grab her keys when she was nervous. Matt had made her nervous that one morning, but nothing like this. She was… uncomfortable now. She wanted this man to leave. “You didn’t have to walk me up.”
And there it is. 
“I wanted to,” he said, leaning against her door, blocking her from the lock. “I thought maybe you could show me the inside.”
“I, uh,” she stammered, fidgeting for her keys unsuccessfully. “I don’t know, it’s late…”
In an instant, Matt throws on a shirt, gray sweatpants, and his dark glasses and hurriedly walks to his door to meet her and this stranger in the hallway. This stranger who won’t leave her alone, who takes the hint and ignores it, this stranger who’s making his neighbor uncomfortable. 
Her heart leaps when she sees Matt suddenly coming outside his door, brown hair disheveled and a smile on his face. 
“Matt!” She exclaimed. “I’m sorry, was I loud?”
“Not at all,” Matt smiled through gritted teeth. “Just thought I forgot my mail. That’s all. What are you up to?”
“Um…”
“We’re on a date,” the man states plainly. Matt pretends to be shocked, that he didn’t know someone else was there. He feigns surprise and lifts his eyebrows. 
“Oh,” Matt said, “Sorry. I didn’t realize.” 
“There’s no mail,” the man said curtly, clearly upset that Matt interrupted whatever it was he had planned. “You can go back into your apartment now.” An icy tone. 
Matt took a step forward, eyebrows tightening, jaw clenched. He wants to tell this man that he can break every bone in his body. He wants to tell him that if he ever hears him in this building again, he’ll make him beg for mercy. He listens to the man's body muscles tightening, his heart rate is fast in anger. Whatever his plans with her were, they weren’t pure.
But Matt remembers she’s here, witnessing this, scared. He doesn’t want to be whatever that man is. He wants to show her he cares enough about her to walk out of his apartment at midnight and save her from whatever is happening. 
So, instead of answering the man with a threat, he looks in her direction—concern etched in his expression, care in his voice. 
“Is everything all right?” Matt asks her. 
She shakes her head, mistakenly. She quivers a weak “no.” 
The man stood menacingly over her. If she didn’t open her door for him, he’d manipulate her into doing it eventually. And Matt was interrupting his plan, he knew it. The man didn’t like that. Well, Matt wasn’t going anywhere until he left her alone.
He walks up to Matt, close enough so they’re standing face to face. Matt can smell the rum on his breath, which reeked with bad intentions. His hands turned to fists as the man began to speak whatever bullshit threat he tried to come up with. But Matt cuts him off.
“If you don’t leave this apartment in the next thirty seconds, I will have Detective Brett Mahoney and the entire 15th Precinct outside for your arrest for harassment and intimidation. Or worse—I’ll have the apartment snoop named Fran come out and scare you herself. Have I made myself clear?” Matt spoke through gritted teeth, keeping his voice calm and even. 
The man was looking at Matt like he really had the nerve—and he did. She stood there, watching this all unfold, wanting nothing more than to lock herself in her apartment and shut her phone off for a week. 
He stared Matt down, trying to find any glare behind his dark red glasses. All he saw was his angry expression in the reflection. How can he be intimidating to a blind man? Matt is blind to an extent, but he’s not blind to people with malicious intentions. 
All he does is scoff at Matt. He turns on his heel and looks at her as she cowers into the corner of her door. Matt takes a step forward immediately to stand between him and her. He scoffs again. 
“Didn’t know you were fucking your neighbor,” he spat before bounding down the stairs, slamming the door behind him. 
Matt stood for a moment, listening to the man curse to himself outside, kick a random can on the ground, and walk himself down the street before entering a taxi and returning himself to whatever hell he came from. It wasn’t until Matt was sure he was gone from the vicinity that he heard a loud stomping again, booming in his ears, that he realized it was her scared, frantic heartbeat coming from behind him. 
Matt turned around to face her, taking a step back to give her some space. “Hey,” he cooed. “Are you okay?” 
“Yeah,” she lied, placing a hand over her heart in an attempt to calm herself down. “Well, now I am. Goodness… he wouldn’t take a hint.” 
Matt sighed. “I think he was ignoring them on purpose. Who was he, anyway?”
“Some guy I went on a first—and last—date with,” she answered sheepishly. “I didn’t even want to go. My friends encouraged me to get myself out there. Clearly, it was a mistake.” 
“I’m sorry he treated you like that. You don’t deserve that,” Matt replied in a soft tone, your usual calm heart beating frantically still. “You should never do anything you’re uncomfortable with. Even if it’s as simple as a first date.”
“I know,” she said, defeated like she’d told herself this before. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come out. Thank you, Matt.” 
“No need to thank me,” Matt said, shaking his head. “That’s what neighbors are for.”
She smiled softly. “You’ll save me from my next bad date?”
Matt laughed, glad that she seemed to calm down and was back to her friendly, unafraid self. “It’s late,” he said softly, deflecting from her joke. He didn’t want her to go on another bad date—she didn’t deserve that. But he also didn’t want her to go on a date with someone other than him. Which was why he was about to wish her goodnight. 
“It is,” she yawned. “Well, maybe I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Matt whispered. “Don’t forget to lock your door.”
She giggled, already letting herself inside. “I won’t.” 
“Hey,” she said suddenly, half inside her apartment, half out. From this alone, Matt was looped in her scent. “You don't think he will come back, do you? Now he knows where I live.”
“He won’t,” Matt shook his head, “and if he does, I will deal with it. Don’t worry. Get some sleep, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you again, Matt.” 
She closed her door softly, and Matt waited until he heard the lock click before he went back inside his apartment. 
Laying in his bed, he listened as she crawled into her bed in her apartment. Her heartbeat told him she was still awake. When he heard it slowed down, signaling she had fallen asleep, he closed his eyes and drifted into a slumber himself. 
TAGS: @mattmurdocksstarlight @yentroucnagol @danzer8705 @allllium @i-marvel-bitch @mattsgirlsworld @babygrlmurdock @writtenbyred
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springtyme · 12 days
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 ♡
Carmy x afab!reader || Series masterlist || Series playlist
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Previous chapter || Main masterlist || ao3 || Next chapter
chapter summary: You and your neighbor share a cigarette, and you have an unexpected chat with his sister... Carmy kind of wants to strangle Richie.
word count: 7.4k
warnings/tags: Eventual smut! (18+, mdni!) Language. Smoking. Food. Angst and fluff. Hurt/comfort. Slow burn. Mutual pining. Strangers to friends to lovers. The beef as found family. Set in season one. (not beta or proof read)
a/n: This chapter was supposed to be about twice as long, but we are gonna wait with the rest till next chapter. this might mean that there will end up being an extra chapter in the end.
"I need some sleep It can't go on like this I tried counting sheep But there's one I always miss"
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“I’m Carmen… Carmen Berzatto.” 
Oh… Now the pieces start to fall into place - the tattoos, the exhaustion, the haunted look in his eyes that felt so familiar. A mix of sadness and understanding washes over you.   
“But uh… Carmy is fine,” he adds, the tiniest ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Nice to meet you, Carmy.” You smile at him before telling him your own name, feeling a little embarrassed you didn’t tell him earlier, and a short silence follows, before you gently clear your throat. “Well, shall we?” 
“Yeah.” Carmy responds with a small nod of his head as he follows you down the hallway towards your apartment.  The short walk feels oddly awkward and comforting at the same time. 
As you step inside, you gesture for Carmy to follow you into the kitchen. You turn on the cabinet lights and motion for him to take a seat or stand wherever he prefers before grabbing a couple of mugs from the cupboard. There is still hot water on the kettle for you to make a new cup of tea. 
“You want normal or decaf?” you ask, holding up the coffee canister. Carmen’s tired eyes light up a little at the mention of coffee.
“Normal, please, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep anytime soon, and I have to leave for work in three hours” he lets out a soft, breathy sound, something between a sight and a chuckle, the sound weary but genuine, and a clear touch of gratitude in his voice. You put a filter in the coffee maker and pour the coffee grounds into it, the aroma slowly beginning to fill the air. As the coffee brews, you plop a tea bag into your own mug before pouring in the hot water. You take a moment to glance at him, his tired expression evident as he leans against the counter. 
You notice the way his eyes flicker around the room, taking in the small details of your kitchen that must be mirroring his own, before his gaze lands on you. Your eyes meet for a split second before you quickly look down at your steeping tea, feeling  how your pulse quickens slightly from getting caught staring.  
You clear your throat and decide to break the silence. “So, how does a chef end up starting a kitchen fire at 3 in the morning?” you say in an attempt to lighten up the mood, but you immediately cringe at yourself, it probably wasn’t the most tactful question to ask. You’re not normally this awkward, but you also don’t normally have strangers in your apartment in the middle of the night like this. 
“I-ehm… I was actually cooking in my sleep, I woke up to the fire alarm.” He confesses, sounding a little embarrassed as he rubs the back of his neck. 
“Oh,” is all you say, not really knowing what else to come up with. You take a moment to process Carmen’s response, trying not to let your surprise show on your face. Cooking in his sleep? That certainly wasn’t a typical explanation for starting a kitchen fire. “I guess sleepwalking and cooking don’t mix well,” you end up replying, feeling a bit silly for stating the obvious. 
“Yeah,” he says, nodding in agreement. “I suppose not.” his voice laced with exhaustion, and another long stretch of silence unfolds between you. You are just about to open your mouth to say something to break it - what, you don’t even know, but you are saved by the coffee machine beeping, indicating that the coffee is ready. You quickly pour the hot coffee into a mug, happy for the natural interruption of the awkward silence. 
“Cream and sugar?” you ask him, smiling politely. 
Carmy nods gratefully. “Just a little cream, please.” You carefully pour a dash of cream into the mug, watching as it swirls and mixes with the fragrant dark coffee before placing the mug in front of Carmen. He takes a sip, his tired eyes closing momentarily as he savors the warmth.
“Thank you,” he says softly, the gratitude evident in his voice. You just smile at him. Taking your tea, you lean against  the counter on the opposite side of him.  
The two of you fall into a now more comfortable silence, the only sound filling the room being the occasional sip of coffee or tea. You cannot help but glance over at him every now and then, taking in the tired lines of his face, the way his eyes seem to hold a thousand untold stories. 
After a few moments of sipping your tea in silence, Carmen breaks the silence, pointing at one of the pictures on your fridge. “Is that from Copenhagen?”
You nod, a small smile playing on your lips as you look over at the picture. “Yeah, it is. I got a job offer here in Chicago and thought that it might be time to try something new, I moved here six months ago, but before that I lived in Copenhagen. I like it here, and I’m really enjoying my new job,  but I do miss it.” 
“Yeah, Copenhagen’s really beautiful,” he says, still looking at the picture. 
You lean forward, feeling a spark of conversation ignite between you and Carmen. “So, you’ve been?”
“Yeah, I actually lived there for a while, when I worked at Norma.” He says it so casually, but you can’t help but feel a surge of surprise at his casual mention of working at a renowned three-Michelin-star restaurant. 
“Wow, that’s really cool,” you say, genuinely impressed. “What was it like?” 
Carmy smiles softly, a nostalgic glint in his tired eyes. “It was intense, but also really… rewarding?” he says, his voice trailing off slightly as if lost in memories. “The chefs there pushed me to my limits,  I learned so much during my time there, but, yeah, it was definitely hectic...” He pauses, a hint of melancholy in his voice, he seems to be caught in his own thoughts for a moment before he lightly shakes his head and turns his attention back to you. “What about you, what do you work with?”
“I work in theater, I’m a scenographer,” you reply, feeling a sense of pride as you talk about your passion. “I design and create the visual aspects of the stage production, from the sets to the props and the costumes. It’s a lot of work, but I really love it.” 
Carmen’s tired eyes light up with interest. “that sounds really cool. It must be amazing to see your designs come to life on stage.”
“It is,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “It can be really demanding sometimes, but seeing everything come together during a performance… It’s like the best feeling I know. To know that your hard work is helping give people an experience. I really like that feeling”  
He looks at you with a newfound glint in his eyes. You feel a warmth spreading through your chest from the way his eyes sparkle with genuine interest. “I think I know what you mean,” he responds, a sense of understanding passing between you. “It’s like when you create something with your hands and then see the final product, it’s a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.” 
“Exactly,” you nod in agreement, feeling a sense of understanding with Carmen in that moment that you haven’t felt in a long time. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, both lost in your own thoughts for a short moment before he breaks the quiet. 
“But, I’ll have to admit, I don’t really go to the theater that much,” he says, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “Or like, at all.”
You chuckle softly, the conversation now flowing easily between you. “Well, don’t feel bad, most people don’t. And, I’ll also have to admit that I don’t really go to Michelin restaurants that often either… or at all.” This makes Carmy laugh – it’s soft and short lived, but genuine, and your heart sillily skips a beat by the gentle melody of it. 
“That’s fair, but I’m not working at Michelin places anymore,” he says, his voice losing a bit of its newfound bravado and his smile falters slightly, a shadow passing over his features. “My brother, Mikey…” Oh… Michael was his brother, you feel a pang of sadness wash over you as you piece together the connection. “He left me his restaurant, It’s an old shithole of a beef spot. I’m trying to get it back on its feet, but it’s been a struggle, you know?”  
You can see the weight of his words behind his tired eyes, the burden of responsibility and loss bearing down on him. 
“I was in New York… I was the Chef de Cuisine at the Eleven Madison Park, and now I’m back here, trying to revive this place that I can’t even believe is still standing,” Carmen’s voice fades a bit at the end of his sentence, a sense of resignation and disbelief evident in his words. “It’s fucking bullshit.” You can hear the frustration and sadness in his voice, and you feel a surge of empathy for him. “But it also means fucking everything to me,” he adds, his eyes unfocused and tired as he gazes off into the distance before blinking and lightly shaking his head, his pale cheek redding a little.
He looks embarrassed at his little outburst, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he runs a hand through his curls in frustration. “Sorry,” he murmurs, the word hanging in the air as he looks down at his coffee mug. You can see the conflicted emotions swirling in his eyes, the weight of his past and present struggles evident in his posture. 
“No need to apologize,” you reassure him, and another stretch of silence settles between you, the weight of his words lingering in the air. You don’t really know what else to say, so you don’t say anything, letting the quiet moment linger as you both sip your drinks, the only sound filling the room being the steady hum of the refrigerator. 
The atmosphere  hangs heavy with the weight of Carmen’s words, and you can sense how he is starting to shut down. So, instead of pushing for more conversation, you decide to take another approach. 
“Hey, uhm, can I bum one?” you ask, nodding towards the pack of cigarettes you had watched him put in his pants pocket when you had entered your apartment. You have your own, and you try not to smoke at night, but you make an exception, you crave the comfort of a cigarette and Carmen looks like he does too, and being able to offer you a cigarette might make him feel like he has something to offer and ease the tension.
Carmen’s tired eyes flicker for a second, like he is being pulled out of deep thoughts before looking back at you again.
“Yeah, of course,” he replies, pulling the cigarettes from his pocket and handing you the entire pack. “I would have gone down on the street…” he begins to explain before trailing off. 
You shake your head, cutting him off with a smile. “No need, If you’re fine with the fire escape we can go out there,” you offer in a gentle tone.
Carmen’s tired expression softens at your offer, and he nods in agreement. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 
The two of you make your way to the window, cracking it open to let in some fresh air before climbing out onto the fire escape. The metal stairs creaking slightly with each step as the cool night air greets you as you both settle against the railing, the distant sound of the city humming below you. 
You pull out a cigarette and pop it between your lips before handing back the packet to Carmy. He takes one, lighting it with a flick of his lighter, the orange flame illuminating his tired face. He has a scar, you notice, on his right cheek, which you hadn’t noticed before. It looks like an old wound, faded and barely noticeable in the dim light of the night. You can’t help but wonder how he got it, but you are pulled out of your thoughts as he flickers on the lighter again, this time holding it out for you to light your cigarette. 
You lean in, the flame dancing before your eyes, casting a warm glow on your face. As you inhale, pulling life into the cigarette, the smoke swirls around you in the night air, the ember glowing brightly in the darkness. “Thanks,” you mumble, as you exhale, letting the smoke escape through your nose as you lean back again.  
For a while, the two of you sit in companionable silence, the only sounds being the never-quiet ambience of Chicago  from the streets below. The night air is cool against your skin, but also somewhat refreshing, and the warmth of the cigarettes and the close proximity of Carmen keeps you feeling cozy and content.
The weight of the conversation from earlier still lingers, but as you gaze out at the city skyline, a sense of peace washes over you. You smoke the entire cigarette in silence before Carmen breaks the quiet. “Did you know Mikey?”
You take a moment to collect your thoughts before responding, the few memories you have of Michael flooding back to you. 
“I don’t know if I knew him. We weren’t close, but we were neighbors for a few months. He was always friendly whenever we crossed paths in the hallway,” you say, watching Carmen closely for any sign of emotion. “I had my couch delivered about a week after I moved in, and despite having ordered it to be brought up to my apartment, the delivery guys just left it down on the street. Michael came down. I think he was on his way to work, and this guy came to pick him up and after asking me what happened, they just picked it up and started carrying it up for me. I tried to stop them, I was so scared, they’d throw their backs out,” you chuckle softly at the memory. “He didn’t have to do that, but he did anyway. I tried to thank them afterwards, venmo them or something, but they just waved it off.” 
Carmen listens quietly, his eyes focused on some distant point in the night sky, a flicker of emotion passing through his expression before he clears his throat softly. “Sounds like him,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with memories as he lights another  smoke, silently handing the pack over to you.
You take one, grateful for the distraction as you light it and take a long drag, the smoke swirling around you as you exhale. The quiet moment lingers between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. You can feel Carmen’s grief and exhaustion radiating off of him, the burden of loss and responsibility heavy on his shoulders. 
The silence stretches, and you start to worry that your story about the couch wasn’t the right thing to say, that maybe you had overstepped by bringing up memories of his brother. You rack your brain for something else to say, anything to lighten the mood or make him feel better, but you come up empty. Instead, you simply sit in silence, the only sounds being the gentle buzz of the city below and the occasional drag of your cigarettes. 
You can sense that Carmen is grappling with his own thoughts, his tired eyes gazing out at the twinkling lights below, lost in his own world. After a while, he breaks the silence, dumping his cigarette butt in the rusty tin can you have standing out here for the purpose. 
“I should probably get out of your hair and let you get some rest,” Carmen says, his voice resigned but appreciative. 
You nod in understanding, feeling a sense of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. A part of you wants to tell him to stay, but you also understand that he probably needs some time to himself. “Yeah, of course,” you reply, trying to keep your voice light and he gets up. 
The polite, well mannered side of you tells you to get up and follow him to the door, but your intuition tells you to stay. It seems like he needs some space to process his thoughts and feelings, and you don’t want to intrude on that. So, instead, you simply smile at him and nod towards the window. “Thanks for the company, Carmy. And hey, if you ever burn down your kitchen again, don’t hesitate to knock on my door, okay?” you tease, you want to say something deeper, but you hold back, not wanting to push too much.
Carmen lets out a soft chuckle, his tired eyes lighting up with a hint of amusement. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the coffee and the chat,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips as he gives you a small wave before disappearing back into the apartment. A few seconds later you hear the click of the front door closing after him, and you feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you. 
You sit there for a while longer, the cigarette between your fingers slowly burning out. The weight of the night settles around you, the city’s hum a distant lullaby. You take one last drag of your cigarette, scrunching your nose at the light burn of your lips as you realize it had burned down to the filter.  
With a sigh you dispose of the butt in the tin can, letting it join the others, before standing, leaning against the railing and gazing out at the city lights twinkling below. The night air is crisp against your skin, the silence of the night wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You stand there for a little while longer, lost in your thoughts as your tired eyes capture the beauty of the cityscape below you. The events of the evening swirl around in your mind, the unexpected encounter with Carmy. You don’t know if you overstepped any boundaries, if you said the right things, or if you offered enough support. But you hope you did the right thing. 
With a final sigh, you step back inside, closing the window behind you and letting the night air dissipate. The apartment, that has felt empty since you moved in, feels even emptier now, and that is when you realize that Carmen had been the first person who you have invited into your home since you moved to Chicago. You can’t help but ponder over that as you head back to the kitchen to clean up and finish your tea. Maybe you should invite some of your coworkers over sometime, or actually start on trying to make some friends here. 
You go over to the coffee maker to pour out the leftover coffee in the pot, but you are surprised when you see that it has already been done, and the mug Carmen had used is hanging from the drying rack, along with the other dishes that had been sitting in the sink waiting for you to finally rack up the energy to wash, now cleaned. 
Maybe it’s just because you really, really hate washing dishes or maybe it’s the realization that you have been more lonely than you realized, but the sight makes a weird feeling settle in your chest, and it is too much for you to start processing right now, so you simply set down your mug on the counter and turn on your heel, leaving the kitchen and head to bed. Had you stayed in the dark kitchen for just a short while longer, you might have noticed the forgotten phone next to the sink. 
You make your way to your bedroom, peeling off your hoodie and sweatpants before sinking into the comfort of your bed, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you, that you’re not ready to decipher. All you really want to do right now is to let all thoughts and feelings fade away into the peaceful void of sleep. You don’t have work tomorrow, thank god, so you allow yourself to drift off without setting an alarm, letting the warm duvet envelop you as the beating of your heart slowly lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep. 
· · · · ·
Carmen is flipping through the pages of the folder, he’s barely registering the ideas and suggestions she had put together  for the restaurant.. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, really doesn’t want to, but all this is a lot  and he can’t really deal with a lot right now.
He can feel the beginning of the well-known pounding in his temples, another day, another headache. He wants to be able to fix this place, and he is happy that Sydney wants to help with that, but all he can focus on right now is to get through the day. There is three hours to opening, one of the fucking ballbreaker machines are broken, and he can’t find his fucking phone, he thinks he might have forgotten it at home, he was a bit of a zombie when he left this morning. Last night was something… he’ll probably need 3-5 business days to process, or even better repress it completely from his memory, despite it being difficult. 
“On page 27, randomly, there’s actually some pretty good layouts of just that,” Sydney says, clearly trying to sound casual, but her voice betrays  a hint of eagerness.   
“Page 27?” he asks, feeling overwhelmed by everything in front of him.  
“Yeah, it’s mostly graphics,” Syd replies.  
He knows Sydney’s right, she is smart and capable, and he is not doubting that she has a bunch of good ideas. She is probably way more qualified to run a business than he is, or ever will be, but he can’t see how any of this is realistic. She is right, they are sleeping on to-go’s, but there is no way they’ll be able to manage that right now. 
And, yeah, there is no doubt that they need to make some serious changes, but all Carmen can focus on right now is to keep his head above water. He has issues keeping vendors current, and even scraping enough together to actually pay the staff. 
“Yo, Carm!” Marcus voice calls out, interrupting them. Carmen hands the folder back to Sydney before stepping out of the little office to see what’s now going on. 
Following Marcus’s voice, Carmy swings the doors open to the front of the house where he finds the baker leaning against the front of the counter, and Richie standing behind it with a woman, probably around his mothers age, who Carmy’s never seen before.   
“Yo, what’s going on?” Carmy asks, trying to push aside the headache that is threatening to take over while trying to understand what’s going on with Sydney hot on his heels. 
“No. I can handle this myself, cousin. I got this,” Richie tells him, holding his hand up as Carmen steps into the room. “So… You’re not Ron…” Richie says, now addressing the woman. 
“Ron’s gone. Gone, gone,” she answers, which isn’t helping Carmen understand the situation in the slightest. 
“Ron’s dead?!” Marcus exclaims, leaning a little further over the counter. 
“Who is Ron?” Carmy asks, trying to get a handle on the situation.
The woman turns towards Carmen. “My partner Ron Pager. He passed away. I’m running his routes now.” 
“Everybody’s dying,” Richie says, annoyed, making a half turn in frustration. 
“Nancy Chore, Chicago Board of Health,” the woman introduces herself, offering an explanation to Carmen. “I’m here to inspect the property.” 
Of, course… An inspection, why the fuck not?! Just what this day needed… 
“Okay, Nancy, hi. I’m Carmen Berzatto,” he extends his hand, introducing himself. “I’m the owner.”
“He’s the owner’s brother actually. He’s also dead,” Richie says, causing a raised eyebrow from the older woman. 
“He doesn’t look dead.”
“No, no I’m not dead. My brother is dead.” Carmen clarifies, even though he feels a bit dead right now. 
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” the woman says with a sympathetic nod. 
“I’m sorry for your loss too,” Richie says to the health inspector, not missing a beat as he continues. “Can I see some kind of identification?”
“Yeah,” the woman replies, holding out her very legit looking badge per Richie’s request. 
“Interesting,” the taller man says, his arms folded over his chest. 
“Is it? What’s interesting about that?” Carmen says, he can’t fucking deal with Richie’s antics right now, he just wants this inspection to be over as soon as possible. Carmy’s been trying to make everyone step up their game in the two weeks he’s been here. He, himself stayed until late last night to deep clean. There shouldn’t be any problems, and if Richie will just behave, everything should be going smoothly… Hopefully.         
“It’s an interesting logo on her badge,” Richie says defensively. 
Carmy decides to ignore him, turning his attention to the inspector. “Nancy, if you need anything, just find us. Make yourself at home. Okay?” He turns around to go back to the kitchen, he has a lot to do and he doesn’t have time to deal with Richie’s shenanigans right now. “Where’s Tina and Ebra!” he calls out as he makes it back to the kitchen with Sydney following him back again, seemingly not done with telling about her ideas to improve the restaurant.      
Carmen had hoped that the interruption would make her forget about it for a while, his head can’t hold any more right now, but he is also mildly curious to hear ideas, and he also doesn’t want to seem like an asshole, it is really nice of her to want to help, so he lets her follow him around as he makes it through the restaurant. 
“I also noted on the prog that it’s not necessarily flour that is expensive, but shipping, so we could just have somebody go and pick it up.” Sydney says as they make it back into his office. 
 “Yeah, Marcus,” Carmen agrees. He can definitely see the logic in that. It’s a good, and actually feasible, idea.
“Okay, sure. Marcus. Great,” she says a little confused. 
“No, it can only be Marcus,” Carmy explains. 
Sydney makes a face of befuddlement. “Why can it only be Marcus?”
“Sweeps, Tina and Ebra don’t drive,” he clarifies. .
“Uh, well, what about Richie?” she asks questioningly.   
“Suspended license.” 
“I saw him drive in this morning,” she points out. 
Carmy just shrugs, he is not sending a man with a suspended license out driving doing work hours, if Richie wants to risk it on his own time then that’s his business. 
Sydney shakes her head lightly, getting back on track. “The point is, it’s one of hundreds of things we can be doing to save costs!” 
“Sydney. Sydney. Sydney,” Carmy interrupts her. “Look, I’m sure this is all correct, but it’s a lot. The job you’re describing goes way outside what I can afford to pay a sous, which I can barely afford already. But I hear you. Okay? I have every intention of turning this into an efficient, respectable place of business run by adults…”
He can see that she is about to say something, but before she can get to it she gets interrupted by an outburst from the front of the house. “That’s a fucking ass of shit!” Richie’s voice bellows.   
“Eventually…” Carmy sighs, stepping out of the office once again to see what’s happening.  “Yo, yo, what’s going on?!” He yells as he pushes through the door to the front again, seeing that most of the staff are already there. A pressing feeling of uneasiness, starting to form in his chest as he steps around the counter to get to where Richie and Ms. Chore is standing, who he had almost forgotten was here. 
“Look… It wasn’t dangerous, Ms. Chore…” Richie says defensively, immediately making alarm bells go off in Carmy’s head.  
“What’s dangerous?!” Carmy demands to know.  
“I discovered a large hole in the tile. Looks like a former gas line next to the stove tops. Not only was it not properly dry walled and caulked, but someone clogged the hole with napkins and proxied over it with some kind of plastic. Grease seeped into the napkins and the proxy became unproxied.” Ms. Chore explains, sounding less than pleased. 
“So what does that mean?” Carmy can feel how fury is starting to slowly simmer in his stomach, threatening to soon be brought to a boil.
“A potential cross contaminate. Additionally, no hot water in the hand station.” The older woman explains. 
The last part makes both Richie and Syd erupt in protest, their voices overlapping and echoing through the room as they try to explain that the hot water does work, the water just has to run for a little while, which Ms. Chore doesn’t seem to be satisfied with. “Health code states any sink near a prep area needs to deliver instantly hot water to prevent the spread of bacteria.”  
Carmen can feel how his headache is now blooming into a full-blown migraine as the chaos unfolds around him. The sound of the voices mixing with the sound of the broken arcade game is starting to feel like an alarm going off in his head. It is like the piercing sound is stabbing through his temples and into his brain. He rubs his forehead, while grabbing the counter with his other hand, trying to ground himself as he tries to push back the throbbing pain. A health code vialation is literally the last fucking thing they need right now.  
“I haven’t even delivered the big one yet.” The health inspector continues and Carmen feels how his stomach drops at her words.   
“There’s a big one?” Fak says from his seat at the counter.   
“And what is the big one?” Carmen asks, breathing through his nose. richie
The woman pulls out a packet of smokes, ‘King Size Sapphire’, Carmen’s eyes immediately looks over at Richie. “Someone left a pack of cigarettes on the stovetop near the burners. Not only very dangerous, but also a potential contaminant.”  
“Motherfucker…” Carmy let’s out. The migraine is now pounding behind his eyes. 
“You can say that again,” Ms. Chore 
“Motherfucker!” Richie echoes, making Carmy’s blood fucking boil .
“Don’t actually say that again, you fucking idiot!” He yells at the taller man, feeling like he could strangle him in this moment.   
“Unfortunately, these violations leave me no choice. I award you a C.” Miss Chore holds the cardstock with a giant orange C out to hand over to Carmy, but he doesn’t take it. He can feel the anger and frustration boiling inside of him, threatening to spill over. The orange letter on the paper mocking him.    
A choir of protests fills the room as the staff tries to defend themselves, but Carmy can hardly hear them over the pounding in his head. 
“You know what, I’m going to caulk that shit right now, okay?” Richie states, trying to plead with Ms. Chore.  
“Oh, it doesn’t matter how fast you do it. I can’t come back to test for 30 days,” Ms Chore says, not missing a beat. 
“It’ll take five minutes, okay?! It’ll take five minutes to caulk.” Richie tries to bargain. “I can caulk! Let me fucking CAULK!” 
“There’s no caulk in the house, dude,” Fak chimes, making Richie yell at him to shut up and Ms. Chore hands over the review paper to Carmy before leaving. 
Carmy thinks he might actually strangle Richie, his head now not only throbbing with pain but with red hot fury as well. 
“You’re bitching me? You wanna run this place?!” Carmen seethes, his voice dripping with anger as he pushes Richie in the chest, his frustration finally boiling over.   
“How do you know they’re not your cigarettes?!” Richie pushes back, making Carmy stumble back a step. 
“Cause I’m not a fucking dipshit!” Carmy yells, seething with a mix of anger and frustration as he is about to push Richie again, but Sydney steps in between before he gets the chance, trying to keep the two men from each other as they yell at each other. Cursing and yelling fill the room as tensions escalate, the staff trying to intervene and the review paper falls to the floor in the commotion. 
“Let’s not do this,” Sydney says, her voice breaking through to Carmy, making him regain his senses. 
“All right. All right,” he says, throwing his hands in the air, trying to calm himself down before turning to Richie. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You are gonna go to the hardware store, you’re gonna get some joint compound. You’re gonna get some caulk and you’re gonna caulk that shit,” he says, his tone firm like he’s giving instructions to a child, despite him saying it with much more anger than he would ever use toward a kid.    
“Okay, well, FYI…” Richie cuts in, as if he’s about to argue, making Carmy wanna punch him. “I’m not your fucking gofer.”
“FYI?! FYI!” Carmen can’t believe he is having this discussion with a grown man. “FYI, you cocked it up, you’re gonna caulk it out!”
“Okay, well, I would love to, but my license is expired, FYI!” Richie retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 
“I saw you drive in this morning,” Sydney points out, making Carmen turn towards her.
“Sydney, you wanna help, you can take him.”
This makes Richie protest. “No. Time out. I’ll Uber. Thank you.”  
“Surge rates, fucko!” Carmy reminds him, his voice dripping with annoyance. 
“Fine,” Richie says in defeat before looking at Sydney. “But we’re taking my car.”
“I don’t care…” she says, shaking her head. 
Carmen is just glad that they’re leaving. Glad Richie’s leaving because he is fucking angry at him, and glad that Sydney is leaving, because it is clear to everyone that she is far too good for this place, and it makes him feel bad and kind of embarrassed that she has to put up with all the bullshit that happens here.
He just needs a break from annoying pseudo-cousins and over-ambitious sous chefs for a little while. Although Sydney is not officially his sous yet, but he is going to hire her – he’d be an idiot not to, she is probably the best this shitty place will ever see, if she still wants to work here after today, that is…
Carmy picks up the fallen review paper from the floor with slightly trembling hands as the giant orange C is staring back at him. The image burns into his mind, a symbol of failure and inadequacy. He knows that this place is shit and that he needs to make changes, but this is a whole new low.  His head feels like it is about to explode, the pounding in his temples now so unbearable he almost feels nauseous, the ballbreaker jingle of the broken machine, like nails on a chalkboard, echoing in his tired head.  
“Fix that fucking sound. Please fix that fucking sound!” He spits at Fak, half commanding, half pleading.  
“I will fix it. Fak always fixes it. Kids come in, break it, and what happens? I fix the balls. Fak fixes the balls.”
“FIX IT!” Carmy just yells. He wonders if it’s actually happened, after all these years in nightmarishly stressful kitchens, two weeks at The Beef  is what’s finally driven him completely insane as he goes back through the doors to the kitchen.   
Taking a breath and clenching his fists he tries to gather his thoughts. If he changes the plans so that Tina takes over Sydney’s stations while she is gone and he makes family, they shouldn’t get too behind while Sydney and Richie are gone.    
“Yo, Tina! I need you to help me out, chef,” he calls out to Tina, trying to regain a sense of control amidst the chaos. “I need you to take over Sydney’s stations while she’s gone. We need to keep things running smoothly, I’ll make family and help out with prep,” Carmen instructs, his voice firm but tinged with the underlying stress and frustration he’s feeling. 
“Got it, Jeff,” the shorter woman says, retying the strings of her ‘Mrs. Always Right’ apron.   
“Thank you, chef,” Carmy says, really meaning it. He knows she’s having a hard time with all the new changes he has made around the kitchen, and with Sydney coming in and things changing up, but she has been here for a long time and there is a reason for that.  
As they start working and tackling the tasks at hand, Carmen feels how his anger slowly disappears, something else inside him taking over. 
He has no idea how to manage, let alone fix, a failing business, but he knows how to cook. He knows what he’s doing when he’s in the kitchen and he knows that he can rely on his skills and can get into that magical state where he can shut his brain of for a little while, and just fully concentrates on the task at hand – which in this point of his life probably is the closest he comes to relaxing.  
· · · · ·     
You are pulled out of your slumber by the ringing of your phone, the shrill sound cutting through the peaceful silence of your bedroom. Groggily, you reach out to the nightstand where your phone is resting, fumbling for it in the darkness before finally grabbing hold of it. But  as you squint at the screen to see the caller ID, you see that there is none, it isn’t even your phone that is ringing. 
Confusion clouds your mind as you slide out of bed, and it is now clear to you that the sound isn’t coming from your bedroom. You stumble out of the room, trying to locate the source of the ringing, but it stops before you get a chance to pinpoint it. 
“What the…” you mumble before the ringing starts once again, realizing that the sound is coming from the kitchen. You feel a sense of unease wash over you as you make your way to the kitchen, the sound of the shrill ringing growing louder with each step. You enter the room and coming into view is the telephone on your kitchen counter. Confusion wells up inside you for a split second, your groggy mind still in a half fogged state of sleep, before the events of  last night come back to you. Carmen must have forgotten his phone last night. 
You look over at the oven, the digital clock, shocked by how late it is, you can’t remember the last time you woke up this late.  
You step over to the sink, looking down at the phone, the caller ID lighting up on the screen saying ‘Sugar’. You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should answer or not. It feels pretty invasive to pick up another person’s phone, someone you don’t really know,  and you have no idea who this Sugar is, maybe a girlfriend? In that case you don’t want to intrude on their personal business, and you’re definitely not in the mood to be interrogated by some angry girlfriend.   
But it could be important, or maybe it is Carmen calling his own phone to figure out where it’s at. You contemplate what to do, but before you can make a decision the phone stops again, the ringing coming to an abrupt halt. 
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, but after a few seconds the phone lights up again. With a fast beating heart you swipe across the screen before picking it up to your ear, bracing yourself for whatever may come. 
“God damn it, Carm!” A female voice crackles through the speaker, frustration and annoyance evident in her tone. “Listen I know-” 
“Hello,” you croak out, interrupting the woman, not wanting to eavesdrop on a private conversation. The voice on the other end goes silent for a moment, and you can almost hear the confusion through the phone. 
“Uh, hi…” the voice says, the frustration in her tone melting away, being replaced with puzzlement. “Is Carmen there?”
You clear your throat, a little embarrassed by the mix-up. “Uh, no, he isn’t.” You cringe internally at the awkwardness of the situation. “He, uh, left his phone here last night.” And you only cringe even more. “I’m his neighbor, we had some coffee last night.” You quickly add, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so awkward, but you push through. 
“Oh..” the woman responds, her voice softening. “I’m Natalie, I’m Carmen’s sister.”
Relief floods through you, feeling a way more at ease now that you know who you’re talking to as you tell her your own name. 
“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Natalie says, genuine remorse in her voice. “I’ve been trying to talk to him for a few days now, and I was starting to worry, but I think he’s just ignoring me.”
You feel a sense of understanding wash over you, having seen the exhaustion and turmoil in Carmen’s eyes the night before, and knowing about what had happened with Michael you can’t help but feel for her. “It’s okay,” you reassure her. “But, yeah, I saw him last night, we had coffee and he must have left his phone here by accident.” You offer, hoping to ease some of Natalie’s worry
“Oh, thank you for letting me know,” she replies, relief evident in her tone. “He can be a bit of a scatterbrain sometimes. I know he’s been dealing with a lot lately, so I appreciate you looking out for him.” 
You nod, feeling a sense of connection with Natalie, despite never having met her. “Of course, happy to help out.” 
You contemplate whether to offer any more information about your interaction with Carmy, but you ultimately decide to keep it to yourself. It’s really none of your business, but you can’t shake off the urge to help somehow. 
“Hey, uhm, if you give me the address I can swing by the restaurant and drop off his phone. I know I would be fucked without mine.” It’s not like you have any plans and you would probably not leave your apartment today if you don’t have a reason to. “I can tell Carmen to give you a call when he gets the chance,” you continue, hoping to be of some use and to ease Natalie’s worries.
“You’d do that?” 
“Yeah, it’s not a problem. Just let me know where to go and I’ll drop it off,” you offer, genuine in your willingness to help out. 
“That’s so sweet of you,” Natalie says, her voice softens even further, with a sense of genuine gratitude. She gives you the address to the restaurant, and you jot it down on a post-it note. The call ends with a warm goodbye from both of you. 
Forty minutes later, after a quick shower and getting dressed and ready, you’re on your way to the train station, the music in your headphones filling your ears as you step out onto the platform. Luckily you don’t have to wait long before the gray train pulls up, you board and find a spot to stand, not feeling the need to sit. The gentle rock of the train lulling you into a sense of calm, as you let your brain disconnect and enter the weird, cathartic state of introspection that you often seem to get in on public transportation while you watch Chicago pass by in a blur of buildings and colors.  
As the train comes to a stop at the station near the restaurant, you step out onto the platform and make your way towards the address Natalie had given you, it’s just a simple eight minute walk and you’re are there a lot quicker than you would have preferred, suddenly feeling a wave of nervousness wash over you, but you try to push through it, reminding yourself that you are just dropping off a phone and there’s no need to overthink things.
The restaurant is easy to spot, a worn sign hanging above the entrance with the name ‘The Original Beef of Chicagoland.’ You take a deep breath before pushing open the door and step inside.
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Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated :) let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter ♡
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@wittyno @eternallyvenus @eddioto
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mistydeyes · 5 months
Text
miss americana: ghost edition
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series summary: The 141 has varying thoughts about Americans which range from finding them wildly entertaining to thinking they’re the worst people on earth. However you challenge their perspectives when you meet them. Something about you makes them feel a little more patriotic ;)
read gaz's edition here!
summary: Living in the UK has been quite a transition for you and there's a few things Simon doesn't mind pointing out (or making fun of you for)
pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x American!reader
warnings: swearing
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the way you make tea is CRIMINAL to him.
“What are you doing?” Simon asked, startling you and causing you to lightly tip over your mug of lukewarm water. “Jesus, Simon,” you gasped, “I’m making some tea.” He did a double take as he examined the mug in your hand and the partially opened microwave.“You have the microwave open?” “Yeah to heat the water,” you responded as if he was asking a rudimentary question. At that moment, Simon could’ve had a heart attack. He quickly went over to you and dumped the water into a stovetop kettle. You crossed your arms over your chest, wondering what had gotten into your boyfriend. To your curiosity, you watched as he heated it until the kettle whistled. He poured it gently into your mug and placed a tea bag in it. “Here,” he said as he handed it to you, “that’s how you make tea.” “I don’t see the difference,” you mumbled before gingerly sipping on your tea and giving him a quick kiss.
He entertains the amazement you have when you see something that you swore was only distinctly “American.”
“You have hot dogs here?” you practically shouted seeing a stand with your favorite mystery meat. He looked at you bewildered as you stopped to stare at the stand. It was autumn and the leaves colorful leaves lay perfectly around the stand. "It's beautiful," you whispered as the sunset illuminated the bright red hotdog meat on the plastic sign. "It's a hot dog stand." Simon replied flatly, "You make it seem like it's the second coming or something." You shot a look back at him as your stomach slightly grumbled. Before you could say anything, Simon pulled you along with your hand firmly placed in his. "We're having dinner at Price's," he reminded as you pouted at his brisk pace. "But Simon," you began to plead before he cut you off. "It's the same thing you get back into America," he informed and you nodded at the commonality of the stand, "probably a little better though."
When you’re in public, he’ll be sure to let you know if you’re talking too loud.
"AND THEN" you practically yelled as you walked around the grocer's. Simon gave a death glare to the stares that met your loud mouth. "Mind just lowering your voice a little, love?" he asked politely as he continued to push the cart down the aisles. "Sorry," you sheepishly replied, "just used to everyone being deaf back at home." You sighed, missing the loud, noisy streets of your hometown and the boisterous laughter and comments from your friends. You just naturally spoke in a louder tone to compensate for it. "It's alright," he comforted, "people here can barely speak over a whisper." You shared a laugh as you continued your conversation without care. You could feel your homesickness temporarily wash away in the moment. It also helped that Simon met any judgmental eyes with a look of absolute menace. 
You initially thought him not smiling was only a characteristic distinct to him but you soon caught on to the British way of melancholy or blank stares.
"Why does everyone look so sad here?" you whispered to him as you sat on the tube. After a casual dinner, you looked around to see the other passengers silently looking at their phones or out the window. "It's like everyone has a perpetual frown on their face," you continued as you looked up at him. "Just the way people are," he replied in an attempt to answer your question, "you all are so smiley in the US." You looked at him shocked and put a dramatic hand to your heart. "Not my fault we're just so friendly," you mumbled as he pulled you back into his side. You continued to sit in silence as the train car screeched along the tracks and the train car began to empty. With a handful of stops left, you felt the need to continue the conversation. "You know, I thought it was just you, but I guess it's just a UK thing," you joked before returning to look back at your phone. As you sat there in silence, Simon couldn't help but love the little things you said that always kept him wondering.
Simon will never understand the beauty that is a bacon, egg, and cheese on an everything bagel from a New York bodega after a night of drinking.
"Good morning," Simon smiled, slightly more chipper than usual. You looked back at him as he tussled his messy bedhead. You had gone out for a rare night of drinking with his team and it was clear that someone was feeling a little hungover at the moment. "What are you making?" he asked as he poured you both a cold glass of water. You smiled as you turned around with your masterpiece on a plate. "I made something special," you giddily answered as you pushed it towards him, "this is a New York specialty." As he placed the sandwich in his mouth, you continued. "Here we have expertly prepared strips of bacon, two eggs, and sliced, American cheese of the finest quality. Everything has been cooked to optimal temperature to burst in your mouth and it all lies on a bed of a perfectly toasted, everything bagel," you presented as you smelt the delicacy of your creation in the air. "It's a sandwich," he replied as he swallowed and you rolled your eyes. "It's not just any sandwich, Simon," you corrected, "it is essential to the morning after drinking." He nodded unimpressed as he continued to munch on his breakfast sandwich. "If you don't want it though, I can always take it," you began to say but you were met with his hands snatching it off the plate. "Mhmm that's what I thought big man." 
Despite always correcting you, he smiles a bit at your little phrases and terms.
On a slow morning, you walked over to the couch and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. "Got any plans today?” you asked and he let out a small grunt in response. “I’m thinking we go to the movies,” you suggested. “You mean the cinema?” he cheekily asked and you rolled your eyes. “Whatever, let’s get dressed.” When you arrived, you walked with Simon and saw the growing line to enter the theater. “C’mon babe, let’s wait in line,” you said, walking towards the back and you failed to see his shit-eating grin. “It’s the queue,” he joked, clear sarcasm in his voice and you groaned at his antics. 
Finally, the last straw was when you exited the movie and you wanted to relax at home with a good glass of wine. You put up with the teller, sweets, loo, and chips but you drew the line when it came to the next term. Simon’s arm was slung on your shoulder as you discussed the film when you remembered the lack of alcohol at home. “Si, can we stop at the liquor store?” you asked, innocently and you could see a signature smirk flash across his face. “You mean the off-license?” he replied and you lost it. “Oh shut up or I won’t have my parents ship those Costco jeans you love so much!” you replied and his snarky comments silenced. You knew how much he loved those bargain pants that were surprisingly sturdy. He nodded in response before placing a kiss on your angry forehead. “You’re a shithead,” you exclaimed and before he could interject with another term, you put up your hand to silence him, “not another word, London boy.” God, how Simon wanted to correct you and say he was from Manchester.
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lalacliffthorne · 6 months
Text
in case of a nightmare, the right roommates are always to the rescue.
(next part in the modern!roommate!batboys-universe series. this is really just a lil piece of wholesomeness.)
With a jump, I woke, my eyes flying open as I darted up and my heart skipped painfully.
My gaze darted over the dark room as for a second, my dream seemed to merge with reality and a prickling sensation of fear madd me shiver, then I hastily turned on the lamp next to my bed and wiped my hair out of my face as I forced myself to take a deep breath.
God, I hated nightmares.
Even in the light, my room was far too quiet, and trying to ignore the sudden shuddering tingle on my spine stemming from a dream I didn´t remember anything of but the panicked feeling, I slipped out from under the sheets.
Picking up the hoodie that was draped over the back of my chair, I tugged it over my head, the material pooling around me as I tapped over to the door, carefully opening it.
The flat was dark and completely quiet. It made my skin crawl, and hastily, I slipped past Rhys´ bedroom towards the kitchen, turning on the lights as quickly as I could.
Turning on the kettle, the soft hissing driving away the far too deep silence, I pulled a mug from the cabinet, trying not to make too much noise. My heart was still staggering a little, adrenaline still rushing through my body, and I tried to remember what it was I had been dreaming about, even though that was probably not the best id-
A confused voice mumbling my name made me jump, almost dropping the mug as I whirled around, and Rhys squinted into the light, brows furrowed.
"Fuck." I pressed a hand onto my chest, my heart skipping painfully as I widened my eyes and whisper-shouted: "You scared the shit out of me!"
Rhys cracked a grin, scratching his chest as he crunched his nose against the light and started to trudge towards me, his deep voice hoarse with sleep when he mumbled: "Why the fuck are you up and in the kitchen at two in the morning?"
Feeling a little heat form in my cheeks, I turned back towards the cabinets to take out the tea. "Woke up."
Breathing out, Rhys leaned against the counter next to me and reached out to pluck a strand of hair falling into my face. "And?"
The heat in my cheeks deepend, and I puffed out my cheeks and raised my head to glare weakly at him as I grumbled: "I had a nightmare." Pouting a little at the sudden twitch in his lips, I dropped my gaze back towards the tea and added in a grouchy mumble: "Had to - get up."
From the corner of my eye, I saw Rhys´ gaze move over my face and the way his lips curved deepen just a little. "Won´t be able to sleep again?"
"No,", I grumbled. "I hate having a vivid imagination."
Rhys breathed a chuckle, then he pushed off the counter, gently bumping his biceps into my shoulder. "Can you make one for me too?"
I furrowed my brows and looked up at him, and even tired, Rhys´ eyes managed to twinkle mischievously when he raised a brow. "Well, I won't leave you alone after a nightmare."
I opened my mouth incredulously to protest, because just because I wasn´t very likely to get a lot more sleep tonight didn´t mean he had to lose sleep; but before any noise could leave me, another deep voice sounded from the door, so slow and low and like a soft brush of cool air, it sent shivers down my spine.
"What the fuck are you two doing up?"
My head flew around, and Azriel scrunched his brows against the light, his usual slight scowl softened a little by the way his honey eyes warmed in the light as he stepped into the kitchen. Something tipped over in my chest, because just like Rhys, he wasn´t wearing a t-shirt, and his muscles worked under his sunkissed skin as he ran a hand through his tousled dark hair, the tattoos on his shoulders and chest shifting with the movement.
"Nightmare." Rhys´ deep voice made me hastily tear away my eyes from Azriel, something tumbling and tripping in my chest as I turned back around and Rhys easily leaned back against the counter, dipping his head towards me like it explained everything. And apparently it did, because when I looked up again, some of the tension seemed to melt out of Azriel´s frame, and he straightened a little, the crease between his brows smoothing just a bit as his gaze flickered over my face.
"It´s not that bad." I quickly turned my gaze away and grumbled: "Honestly."
From the corner of my eye, I saw Rhys and Azriel exchange a look, like they were communicating silently. They did that often, and like every time, they seemed to come to a silent understanding, because Rhys pushed off the counter and moved past Azriel who stepped forward until he was next to me, opening the cabinet to pull out two more cups. He didn´t even have to reach up, which was annoyingly unfair.
"What -" I quickly looked up at him, something tipping over in my chest when I saw the soft curve to Azriel´s lips when he threw me a look.
"Save it." His low voice was almost a little amused when he pulled the jar with tea from my hand, and I opened my mouth, because they couldn´t really plan on -
"I said save it." There was the trace of a grin vibrating through Azriel´s voice now as he dipped his head a little towards me, shaking it as he put the tea back into the cabinet. A strand of hair curved over his forehead, messy and tousled like the rest, his back muscles shifting under his skin as he took the steaming kettle and poured water into the mugs. Staring up at him with my brows drawn together and probably close to a defiant pout, something swerved a little in my chest when Az threw me a look, and one corner of his lips curved upwards softly.
Handing me a mug, he took the other two and followed after me out into the hall. The lamps had been switched on in the living room, dipping it into a warm golden light, there were blankets on the two couches that had not been there before, and as I stilled in the door, Rhys came out of my room, my pillow under his arm and my duvet thrown over his shoulder. Sending me an easy smirk, he squeezed past me, Azriel following after him.
Behind me, a door opened with a small creak, and when I quickly looked over my shoulder, Cassian appeared in the doorway to his room, squinting into the light, his hair a birdsnest as he grumbled: "`m I missing something?"
"Nightmare,", it echoed in two deep voices from behind me, and Cassian rubbed his eyes, tapping over with crunched brows and mumbling: "Sorry, sweets." Leaning down, he left a slightly uncoordinated kiss on my cheek that made me crinkle my nose dramatically. Then he trudged past me without even asking or protesting, joining the other two in the living room and plopping onto one of the couches, pulling the blanket away from Rhys.
Staring at the three of them from my place in the door, I felt something warm spread through my chest as my lips slowly curved upwards until I was beaming softly.
Weirdos.
Beginning to walk over towards the couches, I dodged a flying pillow that Rhys had aimed at Cassian, blowing steam away from my tea as I sank onto the cushions of the other couch, putting my mug down to wrap myself up in my blanket. Stuffing a pillow into my back and snuggling up, I raised my head when the couch dipped, and something skipped gently against my ribs when Azriel stretched out his long legs.
When the sun rose over the horizon, my eyes felt heavy. My head was leaning against the backrest of the couch where I was cozily curled up under my heavy blanket. On the other couch, Rhys and Cassian where fast asleep after the latter had dozed off first.
We had talked for hours, none of them ever once complaining, just settling onto the couches, wrapped in their blankets. Even if I had wanted to make them go back to bed, they'd have just blantly refused. Az had made tea at least three more times, and Cassian had demanded food at around four, which had led to Rhys pulling some croissants from the freezer. I had dug out the board games I had found last time we had deep cleaned the apartment, and beaten Cassian in trivia four times, which had made him grumble for about half an hour.
Now, Rhys was stretched out on the cushions, feet on the coffee table, clad in the ridiculous purple, fluffy socks Feyre had gotten me last Christmas because he had pouted about cold feet, his head dipped back as he breathed evenly. On the other end of the couch, Cassian had turned onto his side, legs tucked in, blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon. He looked so dangerously close to sliding off the cushions, it made me barely suppress a sleepy giggle.
Something shifting down at my feet made me turn my gaze away from the two on the other couch, and something thrummed steadily against my ribs when my eyes met amber ones.
Azriel sat stretched out in the other corner, arms crossed over his chest and covered in his blanket, the hood of the sweatshirt he´d thrown over pulled over his head. In the soft morning light, I thought I saw the shadow of a few freckles on his nose as one corner of his lips quirked a little. He didn´t look like he´d been awake since three am, eyes steady, only maybe a little softer than usual.
He shifted again, and his foot lightly nudged against my shin as he dipped his head to the side a bit.
"Breakfast?"
His quiet, low voice made something hop gently in my chest, and breathing out sleepily and rubbing my sleeve over my eyes, I nodded, trying to suppress a yawn.
A crease appeared in Azriel´s cheek. Then he slowly sat up, sliding out from under his blanket as he pushed himself to his feet and stretched. His hoodie rode up a bit over his low sitting pyjama pants, and I quickly averted my eyes, feeling a soft warmth tinge my cheeks.
I shifted, beginning to move, but Az made a soft sound, beginning to move quietly towards the door. "Stay here, I´ll call you." Moving past the couch, he huffed in light amusement at his two friends, and I slowly sank back into the cushions, the warmth of my blanket making the protest die on my tongue.
Leaning my temple against the backrest of the couch, I felt my eyes begin to drop, my body sinking into the cushions.
Just five minutes.
Before my eyes slid shut, I thought I saw Azriel look back at the door, the crease in his cheek deepening in a soft, crooked smile.
@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @knmendiola @luvmoo @azriels-mate123 @bookishbroadwaybish
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lokisgoodgirl · 5 months
Text
Home Truths: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]
The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (4) Loki is given a shake, and the four of you hit up the local supermarket. Warnings: Minors DNI. Ex-Loki. Major Satchelage. Humour. Brotherly/ Domestic fluff. Smut references. Mild angst. Pining. (w/c 4.5k) Recommended Folklore Track: Hoax
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The rain hadn’t stopped. You’d spent the next few hours limping between rooms, keeping busy, stealing glances out the droplet-streaked windows where you could.
Where was he?
The kiss had lingered on your lips. The taste of Loki absorbing into cracks of delicate skin like water in thirsty soil. Nobody knew where the god had disappeared to in the early hours, allegedly.
What's more, they didn't seem surprised.
It had been another two hours before Loki returned holding a string of thoroughly deceased rabbits.
He stalked through the front door, turning abruptly into the kitchen and lowering them to the dining table with a macabre series of thumps.
“Holy Moses-” Steve scoffed disapprovingly, folding his arms.
The kettle began to whistle on the stove as Loki paraded to the cupboard. He pulled out a mug sporting a large yellow bear with an eyepatch.
“I saw no reason why our ‘education’ need be stifled by a mild weather-tantrum” he drawled, gesturing to the window before plucking a teabag from the tin. He glanced back to you as you leant against the kitchen doorframe. His eyes narrowed. There was no hint there of what had passed between you only hours before. It made you sad. But not surprised. “Don’t you agree, Agent?” he purred. Thor emerged by your shoulder.
“What the-?” his eyes fell on the limp pile of fur adorning the plastic tablecloth; gasping sharply. “Hodorekorn, brother?” His excitement was electric. Loki shook his head. “Alas, no brother. Rabbits. But much the same to ensnare.” The god tilted his head as he poured from the kettle, throwing Steve a wink. “See, Rogers?” he smirked. “I am not completely useless.”
Thor’s arm stretched above your head, pressing his hand against the frame. “It took you four hours to capture five hodorekorn?” He chuckled wrly. “Rusty indeed, brother.” “Rabbits.” Loki corrected, stirring his tea.
Steve swallowed, eyeing the bundle. “What are we supposed to do with ‘em?” he said, regretting the words as soon as they were spoken. “Skin them, and cook them of course!” Thor’s boom filled the tiny kitchen.
Steve gagged.
You couldn’t stop the smile that spread. Loki’s eyes met yours, giving the smallest nod. “Yeah, we can do that” you said, “good thinking Thor. Steve? How about you take the first one? Dealer’s choice.”
Steve clapped a hand to his mouth, pushing Thor into you in a hasty sprint to the bathroom. Dry wretches followed as the three remaining Avengers descended into laughter.
Tears streamed down Thor’s face while you doubled over, clinging to his forearm. Even Loki’s demure overtures of mirth rumbled across the linoleum, although you were certain that it was the sight of you and his brother that was the cause rather than the captain’s overdramatic heaves. Just like the old days, you thought with a pang. Thor wiped his face, catching his breath while there was a pause in the theatrics from the bathroom. For a moment, silence. And then... ‘Heuuuuuurgh-’
You and Thor looked at each other with simultaneous disbelief, the following whoop of laughter utterly uncontrollable. Loki took a sip of tea before placing it down, walking silently to the table. He tilted the chin of a rabbit towards him, frowning.
“We really should skin these brother,” he said sharply, “they will lose succulence otherwise.” You looked up through misty eyes, the release making you forget everything else. Loki had bristled, his mood altered somehow. Thor caught his breath beside you, panting heavily. “I- I can show you how,” you gasped as you wiped a trail from your eyes. Loki waved a dismissive hand. “No need. My brother and I are not quite as incapable as Rogers would have you believe.” Thor’s brow furrowed, shaking his head lightly in your direction. Don’t mind him, it said. “Outside or inside?” you asked, reaching for your jacket on the hall hook. It was still wet. “Outside,” Loki said with finality. His eyes flew to your hand, resting on the anorak. “Your presence is not required, Agent. My brother and I are perfectly capable, as I said.” He shot a piercing glance to Thor. The blonde swallowed.
“Uhhh...yes. Indeed, yes – brother, lead the way.” Loki breezed between you, stooping gently at the door-frame as a slick waxed Barbour unfurled over his lithe body. It hung to his thighs, the taut curve of his muscled ass shifting. The ghost of his knuckles grazed your palm as he passed. Accidentally, you were sure.
Thor lingered by the coat-hooks, shoving an arm brutishly through the sleeve of a particularly beaten-looking yellow raincoat. The material creaked menacingly as he hoisted it up his biceps.
There’s no way that is zipping closing, you thought – half watching the outline of Loki pacing towards the small hut at the edge of the cottage boundary.
Thor threw a look over his shoulder, checking Loki was out of earshot. He tugged the sides of the raincoat down. The edges lined perfectly with his nipples. Rain fell vertically outside the open door, a gush from the awning gutter pooling around the doorstep.
“He probably wishes to recount his version of what happened last night,” Thor said in hushed tones. Hushed for him, anyway. “What do you-” Thor waved a hand, eyes closed to your protestation. “Sister, please – the neighbours over yonder valley likely heard the commotion my brother’s intransigence provoked. Rogers and I heard everything.” The strap of your backpack hanging on the rack suddenly became very interesting.
“I’m not your sister, not anymore. Never was – technically” you heard yourself say, avoiding his inquiring eyes.
Pursing your lips, you scratched a nail down the strap’s weave. Thor squeaked as he shuffled closer, constrained arms wrapping around your shoulders with difficulty.
Breath heaved from your lungs as he pulled you tight. “You’ll always be my sister, sister” he smiled, resting his chin on your hair.
“If these last decades taught me anything, it is that blood relation is the least important quality.” He placed a kiss on top of your head. “Now, I must depart, and entertain my brother’s lukewarm justification for his boorishness.”
He turned, throwing a ridiculous pointed yellow hood up with a flourish.
“And skin some rabbits, of course” he projected loudly, throwing you a calculated wink. From behind the bathroom door, Steve wretched again.
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Loki flung the rabbits on the small bench squeezed in the corner of the hut. A ragged door hung from its hinges. If he wasn’t sure it would disintegrate, he would have slammed it. He didn’t know what to think.
Growth, he surmised, was becoming more trouble than it was worth.
He pushed his hair back from his face, the wet slick that met his hand more familiar now than he would like.
“That was rude, Loki” Thor rumbled, shaking himself like a dog in the doorway. “Hardly,” Loki snapped, casting a disparaging look in the speaker’s direction. He felt a snarl curl at the corners of his mouth at the sight of his brother spilling from the tiny yellow raincoat. “And you look ridiculous.” Loki sat abruptly on the bench, turning his attention to the rabbits. He divided them out. Three for himself, two for Thor. His brother was slower. Always had been. “It was rude,” Thor repeated, squeezing himself to the bench on the other side of the sad bundle. Loki slid a small hunting knife over in silence. Hadn’t used them in years, he realised.
Not years, Loki thought. Centuries.
Perhaps more. The shuffle of fur coming skilfully away from muscle rustled the air.
“You’ll never win her back being like that, you know” Thor murmured, drawing the knife respectfully around the rabbit’s hindquarters. Loki scoffed in spite of himself.
“Who says I wish to win her back?” he huffed, laying the first completed rabbit on a clean cloth by his side. Despite stoic intent, he found himself looking up to meet his brother’s incredulous stare.
“What?” Loki said sharply.
Thor released a theatrical shrug, rabbit swinging. “Oh I don’t know brother-” he started, laden with sarcasm.
“Something about your perpetual hangdog expression, insufferable lovelorn mooning and thwarted midnight attempts at seduction led me to believe there could perhaps be something more at play.” He tapped the half-skinned rabbit against his temple. “Not just a helmet-hold, brother” he drawled.
“It was barely ten pm,” Loki muttered petulantly, busying his hands. They continued in silence, before Thor cleared his throat. “What did you wish to speak to me about, if not that?” “It was that, you cretin. But I wish not to discuss it anymore.” “Your feelings for her?” “They have never been in question, brother. You know that.” “Yes.” “Well.” Loki snapped with finality. “Well?” “Her feelings towards me. Her concerns, the ones that broke us...she was, right.” He faltered, grateful for the pause Thor held while he gathered his thoughts. “She told me I was hurting her, and I cared not. And I know not why. At the time, her protestations seemed unreasonable.”
The confession hung around his neck like a ceremonial amulet. Heavy, powerful. “And now?” his brother probed quietly, concentrating on his work.
“Who am I, Thor?” Loki whispered, peeling the fur back from the delicate soul in his hands before stopping. “Who am I if not who I have been for centuries? Millennia?”
“People change, Loki” Thor said quietly, reaching for his brother’s hand. Loki looked up, brows peaked softly.
“But brother, we are not ‘people’. Are we?” Thor was silent. Sympathy swam in the depths of his eyes, darkened by the gloom of the cabin. Rain hit the roof. Loki was glad of it, filling the empty silence. “I’m trying,” was all Loki could muster.
“I’ve noticed,” Thor replied cautiously. “As has she, I suspect. But the palace of Asgard was not built in a day.” “She kissed me,” Loki hummed quietly, staring at the bundle in his lap. “This morning.” “Ah,” his brother hummed mysteriously.
The blonde drew his hand away from where it sat atop Loki’s. He flipped the knife, inspecting the ornate handle. “Do you remember when father gave us these?” he said thoughtfully, a smile stretching across his face. Loki frowned, gazing at his own knife. “The summer with the-” “- Haugan sisters.” They both paused, sighing simultaneously at the wall. Thor shook his head, waving nostalgia from the air. “Father said that they symbolised our transition to maturity. Protection, sustenance, a connection to our roots Loki.” Loki closed his eyes, summoning the memory. The grass was long that endless summer, a log cabin with a stone chimney that dwarfed the exterior. A cabin that had no right to be where it was – and yet, “Loki?” He opened his eyes, meeting his brother’s. In that moment, they could have been three-hundred again.
The blonde god flipped the knife back to position. “Your problem, brother, is that you spend too much time worrying about what you think you should be, rather than what you are.” “And what am I, brother?” Loki bristled, laying his second rabbit down by the side.
“Someone who’s afraid to be loved” Thor said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He pulled the final tug of fur from his charge. “Ah-Ha!” he smiled, turning. “Thank you,” Loki said quietly, cradling the offering and placing it with the others.
“All she wants,” Thor murmured, his concentration fixed on the second rabbit in his lap, “is you. The real you. The one that I know. But maybe one who listens better. And not the mural version, or the lore from battle tales...” He paused, before a sly grin stretched his lips. “Well, perhaps sometimes...if you catch my drift.”
"What if he is not enough?" Loki whispered. He wasn't sure if Thor heard him.
His brother's face had become serious again. He was on a roll. “To feel that your lover sees himself as superior to you in every way? Takes any opportunity to remind one of that? To never try to adapt to a reasonable request? I can see how it can become tiresome.” He shook his head, frowning. “Mother would never have put up with that nonsense. Why should she?”
“Indeed,” Loki muttered softly. He placed his third rabbit to the side as a sigh rattled his chest. His brother was making far too much sense for his liking these days. “Fear not, brother” Thor rumbled as he leant over, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “I have a cunning plan. A kiss this morning is most welcome news.” “It was a strange situation. She knew not what she did- it would not have ended well, it-”
Loki’s eyes widened in horror, realisation blossoming. “A cunning what-?” There was a knock on the hut door.
Suddenly, Loki realised that the rain had stopped. Your face popped around the corner. Loki straightened, wiping his hands on his Barbour.
“Steve and I are driving into town” you said, casting glances between the gods sitting hunched on the rotten bench. “Want to come?” Thor propped his fists beneath his chin, smiling obscenely. “Oh, please, brother!?” Loki thought about rolling his eyes, before stopping himself. He pursed his lips instead. “Certainly. Although I am surprised considering-” “We’ll be ‘undercover’, obviously” you cut with air-quotes, glancing backwards. “Apparently Steve needs something from the shops. He seems a bit flustered. The nearest one is pretty small but…” Your head disappeared again, only delicate fingers remaining curled around the door’s ragged edge. He had the sudden urge to protect them from rogue splinters. Loki frowned, noting an impish smile had worryingly taken up residence on his brother's face. “-Yes, I’ll...yes I’ll tell them.” Loki and Thor looked to each other warily, before you appeared again. “Steve says wash your hands,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “And lose the yellow slicker” you nodded to Thor.
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From the assortment of abandoned jackets hanging bushel-like in the hallway, they had managed to find one for Thor that wasn’t quite as conspicuous. The 3XL puffer jacket spread around him like a navy cloud.
Steve turned abruptly, eyeing Thor and Loki in the back of the Fiat. A hiss squeezed from the puffer every time Thor fidgeted. “Where am I supposed to put my legs?” Loki muttered scathingly. “This thing has gotten smaller since the drive here.” Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Speaking of magic-” he said, taking his time. “It seems that some of my personal items have gone missing.” Loki glanced at his brother, brows peaked as Steve continued. Thor’s gaze wandered out the window, following a passing bird. “We need to pick up some supplies, like bacon – that’s the cover with her,” he thumbed backwards, “since someone ate the whole week's ration.” Steve’s judgemental gaze swung towards a distracted Thor.
“But on the sly, keep your peepers open for some…” he cast a wary glance out the front windscreen, seeing you locking up the cottage. “-Unmentionables.” “Condoms?” Loki quipped factitiously. Steve flushed. “No, Laufeyson” he hissed, tone frantic as you crunched towards the car. “Rogers underwear has mysteriously vanished, brother” Thor chuckled. “One minute they were lined up in the suitcase, all thirty-six pairs. The next-” he made a whooshing gesture. “Thirty-six?” Loki mouthed incredulously. “Christ, Rogers. Did you intend on soiling yourself thrice daily?” The god twisted towards his smirking brother. “What did you do to them?” “Me? Tis not I who suspicion has fallen on, brother” Thor gasped, pressing his fingers innocently to his chest. Loki rolled his eyes, and this time – he meant it. “Well it wasn’t me.” Loki huffed, folding his arms as Steve’s stare pinballed between them. “I have better things to do. And besides, what fetid joy would I gain from such a waste of-”
You pulled the car handle with a jerk, noting all three men inside bristle and straighten in a way that could be considered nothing short of suspicious.
“Everything okay?” you murmured, settling into the driver’s seat. They nodded in silence.
Thor’s jacket hissed.
“That better not be a parp, Odinson” Steve muttered, followed by the low buzz of a lowering window. You adjusted the mirror, meeting Loki’s eyes and quickly looking away. “Okay,” you sighed to yourself. “Let’s do this.”
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The comforting Tesco Express sign glowed in mid-afternoon gloom.
It was barely three, and yet it may as well be sundown. Clouds still smothered the sky, hanging low and ominous over the town’s uneven rooftops. You pulled into a parking spot outside, thanking the powers that be it was quiet. Steve cleared his throat, digging into the breast of his raincoat. He produced four mismatched caps, jamming one low on his brow before handing out the rest. “I don’t think I need to remind you to exercise caution. Don’t be suspicious. Don’t draw attention to yourself, and if anyone asks – we’re just four pals from out of town here for some good ol’ fashioned cottaging.” You wrinkled your nose. “That doesn’t mean what you-” “May we begin this expedition so that it might end sooner?” Loki drawled. With no warning, Thor farted.
The captain’s eyes widened. “Get out...get out!” he gagged. It was the fastest evacuation of a hatchback you had ever witnessed. Thor was last, his cheeks pink. “All the bacon,” he explained sheepishly while pushing the seat forward. You took Thor’s arm, letting the puff of his jacket warm your chilled fingers. While the god’s wide eyes inspected the snack chiller inside the door, you saw a non-nonchalant Loki meander straight to the checkout followed by a jumpy Steve.
The captain hung back, picking up a packet of gingerbread men and inspecting it over a pair of sunglasses.
Loki drummed his fingers on the counter, smiling wryly as a member of staff appeared from the back. “Hi, with you in one second-” they said, holding up a finger before disappearing again. Loki murmured pleasantries, adjusting the cap holding the stuff of his hair. “What are you doing?!” Steve hissed. Loki caught a musty waft of his own waxed jacket as he turned, shooting Rogers a perishing glare.
“You’re the one that has us looking as though we intend to rob the place. Hush,” Loki hissed back. Steve snapped back to the nutritional information as the Tesco worker re-surfaced. “Sorry about that,” they said.
Loki released a dazzling forced smile. “Do you happen to have any mens undergarments in this” he raised his palms, searching for an accurate descriptor, “place?” The man on the other side of the counter frowned. “Like, underwear? No...you’d need to go to one of the bigger stores for that kind of thing.” Loki stared at him. “There’s one in Millom?” the man added nervously, making the sides of Loki’s eyes crinkle before his features softened. “I see,” he purred, tilting his head. “How unfortunate.” “Anything else I can help with?” the mortal asked. Loki sighed thoughtfully, rocking on his heels.
“One package of,” he squinted at the shelf behind the counter. “Durex Extra Safe, if you would.” The heat from Steve’s cheeks radiated the short distance from the bakery display. There was the squeak of a shoe, the telling crack of biscuit as the captain’s sensibilities floundered. Behind the counter, the man turned without a second thought, reaching up before glancing back. “Pack of three or pack of twelve?” he asked.
Loki smirked. “Pack of three or pack of twelve, darling?” he crooned to Steve, whose face had flushed an alarming shade of beetroot. He turned back to face the cashier. “Pack of twelve.” Loki winked.
You couldn’t hear what what transpiring at the check-out, but the shade of Steve’s skin gave the distinct impression it wasn’t on script. The oblivious shop worker reached up, bringing down a box and handing it to Loki who parted with a crisp twenty pound note. Where did he get cash, you thought; before realising what the box was. Are those...
“Agent, look-” Thor exclaimed beside you as he held out an oblong package. “Party Rings,” he said smugly, “If ever there was a snack made for I, tis this – surely.” You muttered a quick uh-huh, stalking down the aisle to where blustery Steve was busying himself picking up a random assortment of foodstuffs piled high in his arms. “Steve?” you said warily as you removed three packets of bacon and a tub of yoghurt. It revealed his face, still flushed and sweaty.
“Laufeyson bought...prophylactics,” Steve rasped as his eyes darted around the empty aisle.
“I saw,” you responded sympathetically while the captain shook his head. “In broad daylight too” he added, narrowing his eyes over your shoulder.
The increasingly erotic scent of waxed Barbour jacket filled your nostrils. “Got everything?” your ex quipped. Steve’s lips flapped, forming words that didn’t come. He released a goose-like hiss instead. You quickly unloaded the rest of the groceries from his hands, spilling them into Thor’s basket just as he parked himself beside you. “What’s happening?” Thor said. Crumbs from a ravaged pack of Party Rings clung to his beard. Loki continued, unperturbed.
“I’m sorry they didn’t have your unmentionables, Rogers. But nevermind – not a totally wasted trip.” He tossed the box of condoms to Steve who caught them out of instinct. “Oh, Extra Safe – excellent choice,” Thor rumbled far too loudly. “And a necessity, for my brother and I – nothing else seems to hold the force of our seed without making quite the mess-” he cast a knowing glance to you. “She knows,” he winked. Steve looked between the gods, aghast. Thor produced a chicken drumstick from his pocket, taking a casual bite. “Are you the same, Rogers?” he said, chewing thoughtfully. “I imagine you must be with all that super-whatjit-serum business.” There was silence. “Oh, right” Thor laughed awkwardly. “Well, you never know...this trip might be the one.” He slapped Steve on the back, chortling.
“Stop calling me Rogers…” Rogers whispered. He looked like he was in shock, staring at the pack of twelve condoms in his hands. “Someone might…” Steve’s face paled as catastrophic images fell into place inside his head. A picture of him on the homepage of every gossip site there was, holding a box of French Letters in Tesco Express like a pervert. He stuffed them in his pocket.
“Let’s pay for this stuff and go.” he said firmly.
“Excuse me?” a voice creaked from further up the aisle. The four of you broke your huddle, battle-stances activated.
An old man shuffled closer, the tap of his walking stick echoing on the polished floor. “What should we do, Agent?” Thor muttered out the corner of his mouth. Your face softened, looking the geriatric up and down. “He’s clean, just an old dude,” you said. Steve tutted beside you. “Could be a disguise.” “A disguise?!” you hissed. “Excuse me, are you-” the old man started, before stopping in a haze of coughing. You began to step towards him, but Steve’s arm flew out to stop you. Four sets of eyes watched the man pick up pace, rubber end of his cane tap tap tapping on the floor as his crinkled gaze widened. It swept between the tall figures before him. Recognition. “Code Amber. Breach. Do something normal,” Steve whispered in panic. Without missing a beat, Thor lifted a sandwich carton from the basket and held in front of his face.
You turned, colliding with Loki’s chest. “Follow my lead,” he growled as he yanked you around the end of the aisle.
Before you could protest, he had you caged against a row of toilet paper. Matt plastic packaging cushioned the back of your head while Loki’s forearm pressed against the face of a sweet looking puppy. “This is normal... isn’t it?” Loki breathed, eyes flickering nervously from your shocked expression to where Steve was checking the expiry date on milk.
You stared up at him, fighting the urge to inhale deeply against the hollow of his neck with all your strength. Pine and smoked cedarwood and that fucking wax jacket. Loki's throat bobbed, working anxiously as the elderly gentleman bypassed the strange man holding a sandwich in front of his eyes. He was gaining on Steve. He's actually worried, you realised. “Move, Rogers” Loki grit, frowning as the intruder finally tapped an undercover captain on the shoulder. The god's eyes widened earnestly. It made you want to sink onto your knees.
The bow of Loki’s jawline was strained, veins tight and pulsing like they did when he was about to cum down your throat; his eyes pleading and needy, mouth open and- You swallowed. Letting your fingers clasp around the rough material of his open jacket, you tugged it gently. “It’s just an old man,” you whispered. Loki tilted his head, seemingly just realising the position he had manoeuvred you into. A gulp made his throat stiffen, then relax.
“Two old men,” he hummed, mirth warming his eyes. You smiled, and so did he.
Loki shuffled closer, his breath mingling with yours. He glanced towards the scene unfolding one aisle over, wetted lips hovering dangerously close to your own.
“Update,” he purred playfully, “the decrepit man has asked Rogers to get something from a high shelf. He has obliged.”
You pursed your lips with an approving nod, hoping Loki couldn’t smell the adrenaline seeping through your pores. “And my brother is still the village madman.”
A giggle escaped you, before the pad of Loki’s index finger smothered it gently. He leant close, your foreheads touching conspiratorially as silent laughter made his chest shake. His mouth creased in a soft smile, rolling the bottom lip beneath the top. “Shhh, you’ll get us in trouble,” he murmured in a way that made your soul leave your body. You wondered if he was hardening beneath his trousers right now. He would have, before. Maybe – if last night was anything to go by. But your awkward kiss this morning flashed back with frightening clarity, the hard look in his eyes as he said the only word that ever seemed to matter. Go. Don't be an idiot, you thought bitterly. Your hands slipped from their rest on his jacket, catching briefly on his belt. Loki watched them fall.
“Me in trouble,” he corrected, face stiffening. You stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before Thor’s face peered around the corner, a half eaten ploughman’s sandwich in his grasp. “Time to leave before Rogers goes into cardiac arrest,” he chuckled, nudging his head towards Steve loitering jerkily by the door.
“Can you pay for these?” Thor said, holding out the basket. Empty packets lay nestled amongst the survivors. “You’re the least famous.” You rolled your eyes, nodding up towards Loki. “That sounds like something he would say,” you quipped without thinking. Loki’s brow furrowed. He let the protective arm resting above your head fall without a second glance, striding the long way around towards the exit. Thor took another bite of sandwich. He shrugged, before following his brother. But he didn’t, you thought with a stab of guilt as the three of them disappeared into the street.
The glow of the Fiat’s lock lights flashed. He didn’t.
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--> Continued in Chapter Five, A Cunning Plan
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hemoglobinjude · 3 months
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Forgotten - Jude Bellingham x reader (part 3)
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Summary: you and Jude had been best friends for as long as you could remember. When he had his big shot at Dortmund, he cut you off with no explanation. During winter break after Jude’s first stint at Real Madrid, you come face to face for the first time in three years at your families’ annual Holiday festivities. Can you work things out and re-light that spark and progress to something more or will it be like that spark between you never existed?
Read: Part One & Part Two + series masterlist
A/n: The final part! Wishing you, your family & friends love and health for 2024! 🥂
Tag list: @mudryklover @1-800anklebully @barcagirly @cyberangeldelusion @abiigaiil1234 @koufaxx @gsymkcumhs @ky-ky-ky-ky @alwaysclassyeagle @genevieve-blr @ilovecharlesxavier @messi2009 @fashphotolife
-
Christmas had been and gone in your household.
Jude’s parents has bought down all of their presents so everyone had things to open and enjoy.
Christmas dinner managed to be uninterrupted like your previous dinner and Boxing Day had sailed smoothly.
The following days had been filled with Christmas movies, cosy new pyjamas, lots of snacks and enjoying the gifts you all had received.
So now, the time strikes 10:00am on Sunday 31st of December, New Year’s Eve.
You had heard your mum downstairs hoovering and dusting and emptying the dishwasher, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed.
It was warm, it was cosy, and it was away from Jude.
While the two of you had agreed to be friends, you were still slightly nervous around him, not wishing to become two close in fears he’d repeat his actions after winter break.
After the gingerbread content, that evening you went to bed regretting your actions. Perhaps you were too kind? Too forgiving? Would he take advantage of your kindness and do it to you again thinking you’d just give it up after an argument?
So the days after that, you chose the seat away from him at the dinner table, the little seat in the corner of the living room when he was on the sofa, and the times he’s least likely to be down there to go to the kitchen.
You could tell he noticed, having picked up on some of his glances, yet when you spoke to one another, he hadn’t bought it up. Perhaps he didn’t care?
You silently cursed him for eating into your thoughts. But it was Jude Bellingham, so you allowed yourself some forgiveness.
You slowly got out of bed, heading over to the bathroom to wash your face, clean your teeth and get dressed.
You head downstairs to find everyone already sat at the dinner table, an array of pastries, coffees, iced coffees, teas, and practically every other breakfast food you could think of decorating it.
Your mum was by the kettle, heating up more water for another round of teas.
“Good morning! Would you like a drink, coffee, orange juice?” She asks you as she comes over to give you a hug and a kiss on the head.
“Orange juice, please. But I’ll get it, don’t worry” you say before heading over to the fridge to pour yourself a nice cold glass.
“Oh may I have some?” Jude asks you and you nod, before taking your glass and the orange juice container over to where he’s sat.
He holds out his glass for you and you lean over him slightly to fill it up for him.
His hand brushes lightly over the curve of your back making you jump slightly.
He chuckles to himself softly at your reaction before you stand up straight and leave having filled his glass.
You offer anyone else some, and upon hearing the declines to your offer, you play the carton back in the fridge before taking your glass over to your seat.
“Any pastries?” Denise asks as she holds the plates filled with the things up to you.
“I’m okay, thank you though” you say with a smile, taking a sip of the juice.
“Y/n would you mind nipping to the shops to get the bits for this evening? I would, but I’ve still got a lot of cleaning to do and I’ve invited a few more people and their families over for the party” your mum asks you, coming from behind to place a hand on your shoulder.
You try to hide your annoyance, instead choosing to smile and nod, “sure.”
“Would you like anyone to go with you, I’m sure Jobe or Jude would’ve min-” Denise starts.
“I’ll go” Jude interrupts her, sounding rather too eager.
“No thank you, I’m okay. I have to do my own shops at University, I’ll be alright” you say, reassuring the woman who you consider to be your second mum.
“Okay” she replies with a sweet smile.
You look at Jude, to see him sat with a straight face.
You get up from your seat, take your car keys and your mums credit card and her shopping list before leaving.
You sling the coat you grabbed in the passenger seat of your first car.
You can’t take it to Uni but every time you come home, you love driving it.
Once you pull into the supermarket car park, you exit the car and head into the shop, putting your coat on as you despise the freezer aisles.
You go around the shop, starting at the far right and working your way up to the far left, grabbing what’s on the list and a few bits for yourself.
Before you know it, the cart is filled with Champagne, Beer, and pretty much every alcohol under the sun. There are picky bits of all kinds including mini pizzas, mini burgers, lots and lots of crisps and dips, you get a nice selection of desserts and few more snack items before heading over to the tills.
Just as you do, you hear a voice from behind you.
“Y/n?” The voice asks, slightly apprehensive.
You turn around to see your first boyfriend, the one that was there to pick up the pieces after Jude.
“Marc, hi?” You say, surprised to see him here.
“Hey” he laughs, looking at you sweetly.
You saw him early last year when you both happened to be home from Uni at the same time. But that still didn’t stop your breathlessness at how attractive he was.
He was attractive back then when you dated, of course, but he had really grown into himself. His tanned skin and brown fluffy hair was so familiar to you but his face had matured significantly. He was gorgeous.
“What are you doing here?” You ask, seeing his hands holding flowers and a box of chocolates, you were praying they weren’t for a special someone.
“Your mum invited my family round for that New Year’s party, she sent me out to get some bits. What are you doing here?” He asks, a smile still on his face, his perfect white teeth glaring at you.
“I’m here to get the bits for the party” you say gesturing to your full cart.
“I figured” he says smiling at you still, his eye contact intense.
“Well, i best get going.” You say, gesturing to the checkout lanes available.
“Of course, I’ll see you later then.” He smirks before walking away with his flowers and chocolate.
You let out a breath of air you didn’t even know you were holding before heading over to the tills, checking out and loading all of your stuff into your car.
The entire drive home, you couldn’t help but think about Marc, how nice he had been when everything happened with Jude. He was that shoulder to lean on and god, what a muscular shoulder it was.
He had really grown into himself and he seemed more confident now, too.
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited to see him again later in the evening.
When you got home, Jude and Jobe rushed out to help you unpack everything, taking the heavier bags inside for you.
You closed the boot of the car and took the remaining bags inside, handing your mum her card and the receipt.
“Thank you for doing that for me” she says, handing you a cup of tea she’d just made.
“Thank you. I saw Marc at the shop. I didn’t know you’d invited him and his family?” You mention.
“Oh yeah, I just thought it would be nice to see him. It’s been so long, since you both went off to University. I loved that boy, proper charming” she says, going back to doing some more washing up from breakfast.
“Who’s Marc?” Jude asks, taking a seat around the kitchen counter.
“He was y/n’s boyfriend” Jobe says, his eyes focused on his phone.
“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend” he says, his voice inquisitive.
“Used to. And you do know Marc, he went to the football camps with us as well. We just started hanging around each other more after you left and one thing led to another” you reply to him, taking a sip from your mug.
“Oh, that Marc” Jude says, his eyes rolling.
“What?” You ask.
“He was obsessed with you. Everyone in the changing rooms knew it too. Wouldn’t stop talking about you” he shakes his head, his eyes scowling slightly.
“Aw that’s so sweet. Knowing a boy cares enough about me to talk about me to other people, instead of just cutting me off and ignoring me” you take a dig at Jude, smiling ‘sweetly’ at him.
“Used to” he scoffs.
“I don’t know, when I spoke to him at the supermarket he seemed pretty excited to see me again later” you tease, getting the exact reaction from Jude as you wanted.
He shakes his head before getting up and going to the spare room he’s staying in while he was staying at yours.
“Okay, can i have you ready by 17:00pm so we can finish the decorations and putting out the food please” your mum calls to everyone in house. She was always very regimental when it came to this new years party.
“Sure” you call back before going to your room.
You wash your face before putting on a nice facemask, and painting your nails a nice red.
You pluck the loose hairs around your eyebrows before the timer goes off to signify the face mask is done.
Luckily, your nails had dried by the time you take it off.
You head over to the shower and turn it nice and hot, allowing yourself to do an everything shower before you start to get ready.
Once showered, you headed over to your wardrobe to find an outfit for the night.
You decided on a little black dress, and concluded you’d pair it with nice jewellery and a red lip to match your nails and make the outfit more interesting.
You laid the outfit on your bed before styling your hair, making sure it looked perfect before moving onto your makeup.
You finished the look with that red lipstick.
You looked flawless.
You still had twenty minutes until 17:00pm so you sat on your bed scrolling mindlessly on your phone whilst you wait.
A few minutes before 17:00pm, you decide to head downstairs anyway to give your mum some extra help.
“I’m here” you announce to her as you walk into the kitchen.
The lights had been dimmed all over the house and there was music playing loudly, big balloons in the shape of ‘2024’ were against the wall, golden streamers hanging down in all the door ways and the fairly lights had spead all over. Some white, some rainbow.
“You look beautiful” your mum says to you, Denise agreeing with her as they look you over.
“Is that dress not a bit short?” You dad says from behind you, you roll your eyes to the two women in front of you before turning around to face your Dad and Mark.
“Dad, it’s past my fingertips, it’s not short.” You say to him with a smile.
“I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with this” Mark says in reference to only having two sons. You and your dad both laughing.
Just then, both Jobe and Jude come downstairs, exactly at 17:00.
You catch Jude looking at you up and down, Jobe slapping his back trying to break his out of it.
“You clean up nice, Jobe” you complement the younger Bellingham having never seen him in a suit, you couldn’t believe how old he looked now.
“So do you. I like your hair” he says to you, holding his hand out for a high five.
You return it with a bright smile, you could never hate this boy.
“Okay, Y/n I need you to be on distributing bowls of crisps and dips around the house, make sure there’s at least one in each room. Jobe, I need you to light the candles in each room and make sure there are party hats and the little party poppers easily accessible everywhere. Jude, Mark and your dad will be on cocktails/drink making, so prepare everything you need ready for arrivals. Denise and I will go and get ready since we’ve done everything so far” your mum instructs everyone.
Everyone nods before your mum and Denise head upstairs to get themselves ready while everyone jumps into action.
You take the crisps out the cupboard and the dips out the fridge before taking out the containers to put them in.
First, you fill up the bowls with a suitable amount of crisps, having to do at least 8 to ensure each room has enough.
You then take the containers for the dips and take a large spoonful of each tips into their respective containers.
You put a bowl of crisps and three pots of dip on a tray and take those to each room.
While taking the final tray into the living room, you bump into Jobe setting out his things.
“Hello, you” you say as you place the tray down onto the coffee table.
“Hey” he replies, looking over his shoulder at you.
“Having fun?” You ask, smiling at the way he’s dancing to the music playing.
“Obviously” he says with a smile as you exit the room.
You sigh in content having finished.
Just then, your mum and Denise come downstairs.
You look over the two of them, bright smiles as they await the feedback of their lovers and children.
“You look beautiful, both of you” you say, breaking the silence before any of the men.
You go up to the two of them and hug them before leaving to go to the kitchen.
You hear footsteps from behind you and it doesn’t take much for you to figure out who it is.
“You look pretty” you hear his voice and you turn around.
He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, and you hated to admit it, but he looked good.
“So do you” you say, looking him up and down.
“Pretty?” He scoffs, “try something more manly, like handsome” he jests.
“I would, but your bow tie is slightly messy, so I can’t” you kiss your teeth, lightly mocking him and he rolls his eyes.
“Why don’t you come fix it for me then?” He asks, his eyes intense on you as the tension sucks the humour out the air.
You slowly walk over until you’re stood right in front of him.
You face perfectly aligned to his collar bone so you can smell his addicting aftershave.
You tentatively reach up to the bow tie, your fingertips brushing his warm skin making him shiver.
“Sorry” you muster quietly.
“No worries” he says, clearly his throat and swallowing loudly.
You fix the bow tie before swiping your hands over the expanse of his shoulders, smoothing out the suit jacket he’s wearing.
“Am I interrupting something?” You hear Jobes voice from the entrance of the kitchen.
“What do you want?” Jude asks, slight annoyance in his voice, you love yourself away from him.
“Just came to let you know the guests are starting to arrive.” He says with a smirk.
You smile at Jude before following Jobe to welcome the guests into your house.
You take the champagne they bought with them and leave it next to the drinks section, where Jude will be spending most of his time. You could almost laugh.
After around three hours, most of the guests have arrived and the house is bubbling with chatter, jokes and slightly drunk adults.
You wished to be slightly more intoxicated after having witnessed an old guy kiss someone, so you head to the kitchen.
The kitchen was the quietest of all the rooms, little groups of around two to three people dotted around, freshly refilled drinks in hand as your dad, Jude’s dad and Jude stand by the ‘cocktail’ bar.
“Hey” you announce your presence to the three of them and they turn around.
“Hello, can I get you a drink?” Jude says to you as Mark and your dad go back into conversation.
“Depends. Can you do a Malibu & coke?” You ask, having to lean quite close to him given the volume of the music, that and the few drinks you’ve already had making him smell even more delightful.
“Sure thing, beautiful” he replies with a wink, you’d imagine he’d also had a few drinks given he’d been stood with them the whole night.
You watch him make your drinks, focusing on his large hands the entire time, your head on his shoulder and arm around them.
“There you go” he says, holding out your drink to you and grabbing one for himself in his hand.
“Im just going over here I’ll be back in a sec” Jude says to your dads before he puts a hand on the curve of your back and ushers you along to a sofa out the view of everyone else.
“So, Marc. How’s he?” Jude asks and you know it’s not in a friendly way.
“He looked good” you reply, taking a sip of your drink. You hoped it would make Jude jealous.
“Didn’t ask that did I?” Jude grumbles, your hopes had come true.
“Yeah I can’t wait for him to get here” you carry on, avoiding Jude’s gaze which is so intently focused on you.
Just then, Jobe pops up again, telling you Marc’s family just pulled into the drive way, now overflowing with cars.
You and Jude looked at each other before both heading to the door, the alcohol in your systems making you both act as though it’s a race of who can see the famous Marc first.
Jude beats you to it, it was unfair from the start given he’s a literal athlete, but he swings the door open, blocking the entrance as he leans on the frame.
“Ah, Jude” Marc says, tight lipped as he nods in the larger boys direction, you go under Jude’s arm so you can see Marc.
He looked particularly clean and handsome in a suit.
“Y/n!” He says gleefully, “I want you to meet my girlfriend.”
What?
He acted so flirtatiously, how could he have a-
“-Girlfriend?” Jude says over dramatically, looking at you as if to say ‘you didn’t know that when you were playing up to me, did you haha’
You roll your eyes at him, lightly elbowing him in the side.
“Ow”
“Nice to meet you, I’m y/n” you hold your hand out to the petite blonde girl behind Marc.
Of course.
“Well come on in” Jude says, stepping to the side and inviting the two of them and Marc’s family in.
Jude shuts the door behind them and looks at you before bursting out laughing.
You walk away from him and over to your seat, taking your drink in your hand and taking a rather large gulp.
“She seems nice, very pretty too” Jude says taking a seat next to you, you scowl at him, giving the dirtiest look you could muster.
“Don’t like it when I do it then, huh?” Jude retorts.
“Touché” you declare, slumping back in the seat.
“So why have you been so, distant, with me recently?” He says, turning his full body to you.
“I don’t know. Maybe because last time we got really close you just up and left without a word?” You say, the anger previously there bubbling back up thanks to the alcohol.
“I’m really sorry. Genuinely. But now I’m in Madrid, you know where I’m going to be, I’d never in a million years let you slip out from underneath me again” he replies, trying to comfort you.
“No but I didn’t slip, you did” you point a finger at his chest, he grabs that hand and holds it.
“You’re right. I truly am sorry. I’ll never forgive myself for making you have to hang out with Marc” he says, his tone melodic and teasing.
You huff.
“I’m sorry, kidding. I’ll really never forgive myself for hurting you though. I only wish to make it up to you and prove to you that you mean more to me that anything. I missed you so much. I miss the way we were.” He pleads with you.
You had enough of holding your grudge, that and the fact you truly missed him too. Oh and the fact you were now viciously attracted to him and his stupid smile and stupid muscly shoulders.
“One more chance. If you even dare to leave me on delivered for longer than a day, we will never be friends again.” You say, your voice firm.
Jude smirks, “I was hoping we’d never be friends again anyway, but fine” he says and your confused.
Your brows furrow when the guests start to countdown.
Ten…
“What? Is it almost midnight” you ask and Jude nods, also looking slightly shocked.
How long were you sat there for?
Eight…
“Anyway, back to what you said” you turn to look at Jude to find his face much closer to yours than it was before.
Six…
“I was hoping we could be more than friends. I don’t expect you to forgive me or forget what I did but, I can’t help it any more” he says, his hand brushing your hair off your shoulder.
Four…
“Oh…Jude.” You say, your lips parting at your lose your trail of thought with the way he’s looking at you and how close he is.
Two…
“Me too” you affirm, fully sobered up now at the topic of conversation.
Jude smiles and nods and the crowd finishes.
One…
He looks at you, his gaze so intense and full of awe as one hand brushes your hair away from your ear and goes to the back of your head, the other finding it’s way to your waist as it leans slightly into him.
“Happy new year” he whispers, his lips brushing yours tentatively, before he finally gives in and kisses you.
For years, this is what you’d dreamed of, your sixteen year old self would be screaming.
But now, as two broken, mended and matured hearts hold each other, their lips fitting together like pieces of an old puzzle, everything seemed right. How it was meant to be, before you’d been forgotten.
-
Happy new year!! Please let me know if this mini-series was good or not, I’ve never done a mini series like this or just any mini series really so I’d love feedback!! Also, if anyone has an ideas for a new mini-series, feel free to send it to me in my asks/submissions box <3
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look-at-the-soul · 12 days
Text
Every little thing you do- Part 2
Tommy Shelby x reader
Series Master list
Thank you so much for giving this little idea so much love 💕 it means a lot! Thank you for taking the time to read and share your thoughts
Word count: 2,695
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The house was quiet, it was probably pretty late by now, but at least the initial commotion was calmer now. Tommy’s eyes focused on the flame flickering on the bedside table, the room was quiet. Then his eyes darted to Y/N… his best friend seemed so vulnerable, so small. He had seen the marks her father left on her back it was a horrible sight and now it looked worse. As if her life wasn’t complicated enough by the unplanned pregnancy, Y/N would have to deal with the physical pain as well.
He studied Y/N’s face for a minute, taking in the swollen eyes from crying too much, his heart aches for her, she didn’t deserve to be treated like this. She held a special place close to his heart since they were kids.
“Do you’ve a minute?” Polly asked.
As she realized the doubt in her nephew’s eyes, she assured him that Y/N would sleep for a while. After cleaning her injuries and adding a strong ointment to the wounds on her back, Polly checked the baby and gave Y/N a tea to help her sleep.
Tommy gave Y/N one more look and covered her arm with the thin sheet, but was careful enough to not hurt her before he walked out of what was once Ada’s room in Watery Lane.
“What happened?” He found Polly downstairs stomping her cigarette on the ashtray. Earlier, she didn’t ask questions, she just rushed to take care of Y/N’s wounds just she had done so many times when they were kids, and eventually teenagers on the brick of trouble every time.
“Y/N is pregnant, the son of a bitch told her he wasn’t sure the baby is his.”
“And that’s why her father hit her like that?!” She asked scandalized. “He’s an animal.”
“How’s the baby, really?” He asked with genuine concern.
Polly sighed. “She was smart to offer her back, so the belt wouldn’t hit in any compromising area, but I’d keep her in bed just in case.” She suggested.
“Tommy,” Scudboat apologized for the interruption, “we found the vehicle, Scott has been hiding in the house, do you want the men to enter and get him?”
Leaning on the counter, Tommy considered his options for a few seconds. “No, keep someone watching his house at all times, he might try to escape.”
As the blinder left him again alone with his aunt, Tommy expressed out loud a decision he had already made.
“We can’t leave her alone Pol.” He clenched his jaw. “She’s on her own, that bastard just used her and her family won’t help her with the baby yo-you saw how they hurt her.”
“I know.” She added breathlessly stopping for a second as she got the kettle. “They turned their backs on her when she needed them the most.”
“Sort a doctor tomorrow morning to make sure they’ll be fine.”
“And then what?” Pol stared at him.
“I just got a house, still needs a few things… I can take Y/N there, because if she stays here, she’ll see her parents all damn day.”
“In the meantime if she needs another place, there’s my house as well.”
Tommy folded his arms against his chest and nodded profusely.
“Poor Y/N… she’ll have a hard time with people pointing fingers at her all the time.” Polly shook her head.
Tommy remembered the long stares and whispers over Ada, when she suddenly got married and started showing no long after. He had been forced to walk around with the gun in his hand for several weeks. They even kicked her out of a boutique once she tried buying a dress and Tommy had to stop by with a few men until his sister got the dress that she wanted.
“I’ll blind anyone who dares to do something against Y/N.” He stated firmly pouring some whiskey finally.
“What happened?” Finn asked looking from his brother to his aunt.
“If anyone asks,” Tommy pointed a finger at him, “you haven’t seen Y/N here alright?”
Finn frowned. “But I haven’t seen her.”
“Exactly.” Tommy agreed walking towards the fireplace, he added a few pieces of wood and then took a seat in front of it. Pondering on the previous events, worry installed on his shoulders of what might happen. Anger spreading on his body at the thought of his best friend being humiliated by her useless boyfriend, after all she had done for the prick and he had the audacity to doubt the baby was his. Thanks to her, Scott got the chance to be a blinder, and with that endless benefits.
One of his men knocked desperately and as Tommy went to see what was happening he heard the best news of the day.
“We followed Scott, he was at the train station.”
He took the remaining of his drink in a swing. “Was?”
“The boys took him to the warehouse, he had a ticket to escape.”
Tommy gave his aunt a look. “If Y/N wakes up, send someone to let me know.”
As Polly saw them disappear, her eyes darted upwards, in a silent prayer. She knew Scott wouldn’t live a day without regretting his decision. Taking her cup of tea with her, she decided to look for some clothes and clean sheets to provide to Y/N while they sorted everything out.
Y/N was considered part of the family, she and Tommy had always been close, in a way Y/N was the only person who could understand her nephew. The one who he trusted the most.
She decided to go to the church the following morning to light a candle and pray for Y/N and the baby.
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Taking a deep breath and one of her eyes cracked a bit open. As everything started to hurt so bad, her chest felt heavy as memories from what had happened hit Y/N hard. Word by word her parents had said replayed in her mind.
A single tear rolled down from her eye to her nose. With trembling fingers, Y/N moved one of her hands to the yet non-existent bump. It was still early to start showing but she couldn’t help but think her baby was starting to grow inside her.
Despite the circumstances, Y/N felt like giving her own life for this baby. It didn’t matter that Scott or her family decided to leave her.
Tommy opened the door carefully to not wake Y/N up, but to his surprise she was already awake.
“Go on… say it.” She was waiting for Tommy’s lecture.
Scott had turned his back just like her parents. All the people she thought she could rely on showed her to not take them for granted.
But Tommy shook his head.
“How are you feeling?” He asked taking the chair in the corner to place it next to the bed.
“Like a total failure.” She admitted with tears in her eyes.
“Y/N.” Tommy didn’t know what to say to make her feel better, to help her. “Hey, look at me.” He spoke softly and covered one of her hands with his own.
Y/N started biting the inside of her cheek to prevent more tears to come out. But looked at her best friend anyways.
“You’re not alone, I know you’ve a lot to take in at the moment… but you can count on me for everything.” He offered sincerely.
She didn’t feel worth any of this, she felt dirty, stupid for believing in Scott’s love words. How could she have been so naïve?
“Why?” Her voice broke. “Why do you want to help me when I’ve done everything wrong?”
“Don’t do this to yourself.” Tommy swallowed hard. “Don’t let them get in your head, I know how it is, but this isn’t your fault.”
“Of course it is! I gave myself away to Scott, I’m just another whore.”
Tommy lost his control, he didn’t want her to feel this way.
“You’re not a whore. You did it out of love and that’s not something to regret.”
“I deserve this, my father is right.” Y/N shook her head, she angrily wiped a tear away.
“No, you don’t deserve this shit happening. Y/N you’re a good woman an-”
Y/N’s grandmother asked if she could walk into the room. Tommy felt grateful for the interruption because he didn’t know how to deal this situation. He didn’t want to say that he had warned Y/N about her now ex boyfriend and make her feel worse than she already did.
“I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”
At least he got a chance last night at the warehouse to make the bastard pay for playing with Y/N’s heart. Tommy made it very clear he better disappear from her life for good because if he ever saw him again, he wouldn’t let him walk twice alive.
He had been a few punches away from killing Scott. But the image of Y/N holding a baby in her arms stopped him… he wouldn’t be responsible for killing that baby’s father, even though Scott definitely deserved it. So he limited himself to leave a little warning, a message.
“This is a mess, Y/N feels so guilty for getting into this.” Tommy announced walking into the kitchen. He found his sister and aunt making breakfast.
Tommy’s eyes fixed on Karl and he was taken back in time to when Ada thought he had betrayed Freddie. He was a lot of things, but he’d never cause a pain like that to a child. At least not one of his own people.
From the beginning, he knew Scott was a piece of shit, but Y/N seemed so happy and thrilled, how would he step in to destroy her happiness? He never imagined he’d have to help her pick up the broken pieces of her heart. The sudden presence of Polly close to him made him snap back into reality, she stepped closer to help him light the cigarette that was hanging from his mouth.
Tommy moved his eyes towards his nephew, he was playing with a truck on the floor. Perhaps he was overthinking but he didn’t know what would he answer when Y/N’s child asked about his or her father.
“Ada would you talk to Y/N?”
“About what?”
“When you got pregnant…” he began with embarrassment in his eyes to talk about that. “It’s something similar.”
They’ve come a long way ever since, but Tommy still regretted the time they spent apart. Family was everything to him.
“And what do you want me to say Tommy? Her boyfriend dumped her, it’s not the same I got married.”
He sighed in frustration. “I just want Y/N to feel our support.”
“You’re going to make her feel overwhelmed! I know how noisy you can be.” Ada protested.
Tommy scoffed, he felt offended by his sister’s words. He just wanted to help Y/N.
“I’ll talk to her.” Polly intervened placing some food on a tray to give Y/N.
“Thank you.”
Ada clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. Her eyes boring into her brother.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
But Ada turned the corner of her mouth down and shuddered. “Nothing it’s just strange to see you go above and beyond for someone.”
As she walked out of the kitchen, Tommy found himself thinking of her words. She was telling the truth but… but how could he stand there and do nothing for Y/N?
He knew her like the palm of his hand, she had been by his side since forever, encouraging him to follow his dreams, telling him the truth right in his face when he messed up. Even he didn’t want to hear it.
There was no other way to do this, she’d have his entire support through the pregnancy and whatever she might need afterwards.
“Mr. Shelby!” Y/N’s grandmother shouted from upstairs.
Tommy skipped a few steps and when he reached Ada’s old room, he found Polly holding Y/N’s hair back, she had been sick and her grandmother was trying to hold her trembling body.
“I’m sorry Pol. Sorry.”
“Why are you sorry for? With everything you’ve been through it’s not a surprise your stomach can’t handle food. Tommy help me here.” His aunt asked him to take her place so Y/N could use his strength as support. “Take her to that chair, while I sort this out.”
Following Polly’s instructions, Tommy lead Y/N carefully to the chair in the corner while his aunt and Y/N’s grandma changed the bedsheets. Ada joined them a moment later with a glass of water. “Try some crackers, it helped me with sickness during my pregnancy.” She offered taking the sheets downstairs.
Y/N groaned feeling embarrassed and mortified for everything. As soon as she smelled the food her stomach protested, but she felt bad for telling Polly something so she decided to just eat the food. But the moment she got the first bite, she couldn’t help it and it ended in her throwing up and making a mess.
“I want to thank you for taking care of her.” Y/N’s grandmother admitted taking her hand.
“I was just thinking…” Tommy started to say, “You could come with me to the new place I got.” Then he turned to face her grandmother. “It’s outside the city, away from curious eyes and it’s surrounded by trees.”
“No.” Y/N stated.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea dear.” Her grandma smiled at Tommy. “Fresh air could help her.”
Y/N sighed frustrated with herself, with the situation.
“Think about it, yeah?” Tommy suggested. “That way you won’t run into your parents everyday, and you can walk to the lake to relax.”
“He’s right.” Her grandma approved. “You’ll feel grateful to be away from the drama.”
“Perfect! Looks like you got it all figured out Tommy.” She snapped. “Just like my mother who wanted to send me to her aunt’s farm.”
She knew this wasn’t fair, he was the only one offering support, but she couldn’t help it, she felt on the brick, like everything was falling apart. And she was angry with herself.
Polly pushed Tommy away and gently grabbed Y/N’s arm. “Sweetheart all of this worry isn’t right for the baby. For the first time, I think going to that house is the best idea.”
“Unfortunately your choices are limited my darling.” Y/N’s grandma spoke softly. “But you should know that these wonderful people are trying to help you.”
She was trying to be strong, to pretend this didn’t hurt her, but truth is he world was crashing down. And this was only the beginning.
That seemed to click on Y/N’s mind because she gave a small nod, he lower lip gave in and it started quivering, then the tears started to fall down her cheeks.
“Thank you so much.” Y/N sobbed. “I’m so sorry.” Emotions took over her.
Her grandma pulled her in for a hug, wrapping her arms protectively around her just like she did when she was a child. “The Lord removed some people from your life but look at the angels he placed right away.”
Tommy saw Polly dabbing the corner of her eyes with her sleeve.
“This baby will grow surrounded by people who really love him or her.” He assured her.
“Now how about I help you take a bath? The doctor should arrive shortly.” Polly offered rubbing her back.
Her grandma squeezed between them. “I better go, said I was going to church.”
“Thank you for coming gran.” Y/N gave her a tight hug.
As they moved to get things done, Polly stopped her nephew before he could walk downstairs. “You’re brave for helping her like this.”
“I can’t leave her on her own.” He tried to explain, but Polly interrupted him.
“Your mother raised you right.” She then, in an unexpected move touched his shoulder. “She’d be proud of you.”
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Part 3
Master list
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