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queers-gambit · 7 months

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Two to Tango

prompt: the aftermath of Carmy's words seem to rattle him more than you.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 5.4k+

note: author still does not want any messages about glorifying toxic relationships. typically, but not always, when someone calls you clingy, it's weaponized and is abusive. this fic is not meant to portray that! it’s meant to show internal agony and the journey to forgiveness - Carmy apologizes 'cause he's actually sorry!

warnings: cursing, reader folds 'cause who wouldn't for the sweet puppy that is Carmy, hurt and comfort, small angst, small fluff, we talk about Mikey a bit, author uses writing as therapy, relationship angst...? barely edited.

part one: God's Plan

browse Clingy Baby collection masterlist here

"It's six in the Goddamn morning!" You raged at your front door, stomping up to it, "Are you dumb in the fucking head!? Who the fuck in their right mind knocks like the Goddamn cops at six in the fucking morning!?"

You whipped it open, the force causing a breeze of air to blow your bedridden hair back and highlight your exhaustion. "Hiya, sunshine," Richie beamed down at you, holding up a paper bag, offering, "donut?"

"Richie!? I know you're not fuckin' stupid, baby boy, so, what the fuck is wrong with you? It's six in the morning on my day off - do you want to give me a reason to punch you? You hate your nose that much?"

He tisked at you mockingly, "Someone's cranky this morning."

"What do you want?"

"You're not gonna invite me in for coffee? I brought us donuts! See? C'mon, Peach," He jostled the bag around with a shit-eating, closed-lip smile. "Dooonuts," he taunted.

You had to pause, count to ten in your head, then sigh through your nose. You offered kindly, "Richie? Would you like to come in for some coffee? Since you kindly brought donuts?"

He grinned, "Awwh, thanks, Peach, thats real nice of yah! Don't mind if I do!"

"Don't call me that," you snapped, leading him into your kitchen. The door shut and locked.

"Oh, someone's touchy."

"What do you fucking want?" You whined, pouring two mugs of hot coffee. "You come bangin' at my door, early ass in the mornin'. You better have a good-ass reason," you slid the mug over the counter he sat at. "Cream or sugar?"

He shook his head, fiddling with the mug for a moment before admitting as you dressed up your own coffee, "Uh, so... It's Carmy."

You paused, taking a slow sip from your mug, waiting for more that wouldn't come. So, you quietly asked, "What about Carmy?"

"He's falling apart."

"O...Kay?"

"Peach," he frowned, "you know that your relationship was the only thing that made sense to him - he's falling apart without you there."

"Okay," you nodded, taking another swallow of hot bean-water.

"That's it? Nothing else to say? Dude's losin' his fuckin' shit, Peach. Okay? Barely leaves the restaurant, h-he's all manic and shit, doesn't stop cookin', isn't gettin' a lotta sleep, and Syd said his clothes are all over the apartment - he's not keeping himself in order."

"So, he needs his mother?"

Richie glared with a clenched jaw, "Not fuckin' funny, Peach."

"I'm not laughing."

"He needs you."

"I'd argue otherwise, he's a grown fuckin' man who doesn't need to be taken care of. Look, if he was man enough to call me a desperate, clingy bitch, he's man enough to deal with the fallout of his words."

"Look, hey, hey, hey, I'm not sayin' he's not in the wrong," he waved his hands, eyes widening, "actually, the exact opposite. We all chewed his ass out when we found out what he fuckin' said, Peach. And look, I've never seen Fak that fuckin' angry."

You semi-pouted your bottom lip, "Really?"

"Fak was ready to strangle Carmy, I think," Richie sighed. "I yelled, Sugar yelled, Fak lost his shit, Syd even cornered him in the office and laid into him..."

"I thought she didn't like me," you whispered.

"She's getting to know you, but she likes you," he assured, "and it's obvious the affect you have on Carmy. We all respect that - "

"Oh, great, so everyone except the one person who needs to respect our relationship - respects it!"

Richie frowned at you, nodding in agreement before admitting, "He's a dumb fuckin' idiot, Peach, we all know that, but the dude is losing it without you."

"Sucks to suck."

"Peach," he groaned, slapping his hands to the counter with exasperation. "Don't you love him?"

"Of course I love him, but I also have this little thing called self-respect! He said some shit - shit he can't ever take back. The fuck I look like going back to him when he's the one in the wrong!? I don't hate myself that much, and despite what he says, I'm not that desperate for love."

"How is talking to the man you love - "

"Richie," you paused him, "your Cousin said a lot of hurtful shit. It's been weeks, okay? He's gonna snap outta it, realize what he's done, and right the wrongs he's committed. I don't need to speed that along in any way, shape, or form - he's a grown man. And I'm a grown woman, I don't have to fall to anyone's beck-and-call, he can figure his own shit out."

"I know - look, it's been fuckin' weeks of us dealin' with him losin' his fuckin' mind!" Richie snapped. "We tried to respect that you wanted distance and time, we really did, but he's losin' it, Peach, more than he's lost it before. Okay? I'm concerned about him, more than I was when the shit with Mikey went down..."

You sighed and leaned on your kitchen counter, wiping your fingers over your eyes to pinch the bridge of your nose after. "Okay, okay," you paused, sighing again, blinking as you looked at Richie, "so, what would you like me to do?"

He pouted dramatically, "Talk to him? Please?"

"To say... What?"

"I don't know, you guys can work that out together, but he's miserable, Peach. Just talk to him, just..." He sighed, shaking his head, "I know it's not fair to ask of you, but he's slippin' off the deep end. You're all he knows, all that makes sense to him, and with you gone..." His eyes turned red as he held back his tears, "I-I'm not sayin' he's gonna do anythin', Peach, but everythin' with Mikey's still so fresh... I just - I can't go through this again. Can't lose another Berzatto."

You frowned, understanding now why he appeared so frazzled.

"Carmy's not Mikey, Richie, okay?" You reminded him softly, reaching for his hand; leaving your extended to reach him, "And you're not gonna lose any more of us, you hear me?" You gave a squeeze, "I'll talk to him."

"Really?"

"I will," you assured softly, seeing the single tear drop from his waterline when he bowed his head and sniffled harshly. "Hey, Richie...? Do you, maybe, wanna bring some flowers to Mikey today? Think you wanna visit?"

He shrugged, "Maybe..."

"Maybe it'll be nice," you assured calmly. "It rained a few days ago, so, the ground won't be too soggy anymore, but the grass will be lush and green - hydrated and shit."

"Right," he chuckled, nodding, "yeah, okay, maybe that'll be nice, yeah, you're right."

"Maybe Carmy could use a visit, too."

"He won't go."

You nodded, "I know, but sometimes it's nice to just have the offer."

Richie agreed, downing the last of his black coffee. "All right," he cleared his throat, "let's go - you wearin' that?"

"What?"

"You gonna wear that? To go talk to Carmy?"

"It's not even seven in the morning!"

"He's at the restaurant," Richie shrugged. "Dude doesn't leave. C'mon, he needs a nap or somethin'."

You groaned, knowing he wouldn't leave unless you left with him. So, you got ready quickly while he sat at your desktop computer; playing Facebook's FarmVille - the same you left your little cousins to play when they needed distracted. He was enraptured by the adorable virtual sheep, laughing to himself as he learned the ropes of the game; and when you were ready, you had time to fill a to-go tumbler of coffee while he signed off.

When you arrived at The Beef, it was still closed for the morning prep; and inside, chaos rained in a fury of angry voices. You listened to Carmy snap at Marcus about something petty, going as far as to slap a pastry out of his hand as they argued in one another's faces with ignited passion.

"Ooookay," you moved through the kitchen and got between the two men, hands on Carmy's chest, "that's enough, Chef, hey, hey, hey, c'mon, walk away - just walk away, Carmy, don't do this. Hey, hey, don't do this, c'mon, just step off - walk away with me, please. Please, Carmy, hey, hey, step off, walk away with me, please."

"Fuck you doin' here, Peach?" He asked with red, swollen eyes. He looked sullen; pale between the angry red blotches to his skin, bags under his tired eyes, looking worn out and thinner than you remembered.

"Yeah, hey, hey, we'll talk about that, c'mon, outside, outside, outside," you directed him, sighing at the sight of the splattered pastry you were forced to step over. "I'm so sorry, Marcus," you whispered, seeing him nod and wave you off as you and Carmy pushed outside into the alley.

The door shut behind you, making Carmy snarl, "What the fuck, Peach - "

"No, I think that's better asked to you," you snapped. "The hell's wrong with you? Yellin' at Marcus like that? You know how rude it is to slap shit outta anyone's hand?"

He paced in anger, wiping a hand down his face; circling his mouth with his fingers, eyes ringed with red, hair greasy and tossed in a mess. His pants looked baggy, his shirt wrinkled, stained, and dirty with sweat marks.

"What're you doin' here?" He asked in a pant, hands going to his slender hips, head shaking as his tear-filled eyes avoided yours.

"Carmy, we need to talk."

"No shit," he breathed, scoffing after and widening his pace.

"Hey, Carmy, hey, hey," you reached for him, taking both his wrists in your grasp so he had to face you. "I need you to pause for me, please, hey," you stepped in his way when he tried to move. "Carmy, you're no good to anyone when you're like this - least of all yourself. So, I need you to talk - "

"You left," he panicked, pulling back to start pacing again. "You left - you left me. We got in a fight and you left, you fucking left. You walked away and you left me."

"Carmy, we got in more than a fight," you sighed. "You lashed out at me, then turned avoidant, and I don't linger where I'm not wanted."

"How can you think that?" He demanded, still pacing. "That you're not wanted by me? That you're not welcome, what? In my life? At my side? With me? Baby - of course, you are!"

"You didn't exactly make me feel any different," you pointed out sharply. "Carmy, can you please fucking pause for me so we can talk this out - "

"I know I fucked up," he ranted to himself, huffing and puffing as his emotion strangled him. "I know I did, I kept - I couldn't - I fucked up. I know I did. I couldn't get my head outta my ass," he listed, pacing as he panted when panic took hold of his being, "and I hurt you, and it was like I had to keep hurting you because I couldn't be alone in what I felt and I couldn't exactly figure out what the fuck I was feeling - I just needed you to hurt, too."

"Carmy," you sighed patiently.

"And I couldn't stop, I just kept going, and when I realized how bad I made it, I couldn't fucking stop - I needed y-yo-you t-to know what I felt, but I couldn't find the words. I-I hate that I did that, I-I fucking hurt you and I made this so much worse than it ever had t-to be, and I fucking know, Peach, okay? I know you're not clingy, you were just loving me. Y-You were loving me, you were using your own love languages, and I felt y-you so fuckin' close to me, and freaked out - I just - I just don't know why. I just - I panicked, I couldn't stop whatever I felt, and I'm so sorry," he breathed, shaking his head, wiping his cheeks as the tears started. "I-I-I'm so sorry, Peach, I couldn't control myself and I-I hate that I hurt you, and I know I don't deserve your understanding, but I just - I couldn't stop - "

"Carmy," you stepped directly in his footpath; needing to seize hold of his swollen biceps to catch his movements as he all but barreled right into you, "I need you to breathe."

"Nah, I'm okay - "

"No, you're not," you spoke sternly, shaking your head. "Baby," you eased your tone to a softer tone, seeing a glimmer of hope spark in his baby blues, "I need you to take a breath and remain in the present with me, okay? Just stand here with me," you watched as he blinked a couple of times; reaching out to hold your waist tentatively. "And stay in the present, okay? Stay here with me."

"I'm so sorry, Peach," he whispered, stepping closer so he could feel your breasts against his chest; caging you with his arms. "I'm so fuckin' sorry, I didn't - I didn't know what the fuck I was even trying to fight with you about. You're not clingy - you're not any of the things I said, I didn't mean it - any of it."

"Calling me desperate?"

"I didn't mean any of it."

"A bitch?"

"Please," he whispered, bringing you in closer so he could rest his forehead on yours. "Don't repeat it, I know what I said, and I'm so fucking sorry for all of it. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm goin' crazy without yah, Peach. I need my best girl, and I don't deserve you, but I fuckin' need you." He sniffled, pulling back to caress your cheek, whispering, "I need you, Peach, you're the only thing that I know - the only thing I can understand, that makes sense to me. I think I just felt stressed and overwhelmed, I wasn't sure what to do - I couldn't find the words, I'm so sorry."

You nodded slowly, "I think we can work through this."

"I don't deserve you."

"Maybe not, but you have me anyway," you whispered, bringing his forehead to your own again. "But you can't do this again, taking anger out on me when I haven't done anything."

"Never again," he sighed, now nestling into your neck for comfort; arms tightening so you were the closest you could be with your head bent to keep his head caressed with yours.

"I don't think we can say 'never', but we can make an effort to leave work stress at work, right?" You whispered softly, letting one around coil around him to keep him close; the other caressing his jaw. "You don't get to treat me like that," you reminded him, "because I'm on your side, Carmy, I'm not the enemy."

"I know," he squeezed you tight.

"And the people doing their jobs are not the enemy," you smirked.

"I know," he chuckled lightly. "I owe Marcus an apology..."

"I'm sure you owe it to the others, too," you mused, holding his cheek as you turned your head to kiss his forehead. "Promise me we're done with that reactive bullshit. It doesn't make navigating a relationship easier on us."

"We're done, we're so fuckin' done with that shit," he whispered, deflating into your embrace as you held him close. "I'm so sorry, baby. I really am."

"I know," you comforted softly. "I forgive you."

"I don't deserve it."

"Hey, hey, this self-deprecating stunt has to end, too. We've gotta go forward with at least some confidence if we're gonna figure this out together."

He nodded, pulling back but keeping hold of your waist. "I am confident about this... About you - about us."

"Hmm?" You gently pushed a few stray curls from his forehead.

"Move in with me - officially."

Your face contorted in mild disappointment, "Oh, Carmen - "

"No, no," he rushed, sighing as his hand flattened on your jaw and cheek again, "just listen to me. I've wanted to ask you for a long time, okay? I've wanted this for - like - fucking years. Hear me? I just," he sighed, "I wasn't sure how to ask. I want this for us, I want us to be together, okay? Officially. I-I want us living together, Peach, okay? I want to come home and just - I want you there. I want all of you," he frowned, tears swelling again, "and all your shoes in the foyer, hair in the shower drain, perfume on the counter, and every-single-way you know how to love me. I was wrong to say you were clingy - and everything else I said. Baby, the last couple weeks, I've felt so fucking empty, so lonely and - just - cold. I've been cold without you. I need you, Peach, I need you with me, and I need you to be exactly you - no holding back. Because you're exactly who I need to love me, I'm so sorry I fucked that up before."

"Carmy."

He frowned, "I'm sorry."

"I know," you smirked, "and I forgive you. But you know it's gonna take more than a few pretty words and some tears, right?"

He nodded, "Anything to make this work again."

You sighed in patience, "Go say your apologies to the others, we've got t'make a stop before going back to yours - and you're going to take a fucking nap."

"I'm fine - "

"Look me in my eye and try to tell me in the past 72 hours, you've had decent, restful sleep."

He frowned, opening his mouth a few times but then sighing. "You know I can't," he whispered.

"Exactly why we're going back to yours."

Carmy paused, brows furrowing as if a thread pulled them together. He asked softly, "Is that a no to us... Living together? Is that why you're calling it 'my' place?"

You offered him a look of patience and leaned in to peck his lips for a few prolonged seconds, promising, "There's your apartment, there's my apartment, and then there's gonna be our apartment. Somewhere that's just ours, 100% us." His mouth stretched in a grin, so you swiftly cut him off, "But you have to ask me again when you've got restful sleep under your belt. I want you clear headed when you make this kinda decision."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed. "Where're we goin' before?"

You swallowed nervously, telling him softly, "You absolutely do not have to go with us, but I think Richie could use a visit out to Mikey's grave. I said I'd take him with some flowers, but you do not have to get out to go with us - not if you're not ready."

He blinked a few times, rolling his lips between his teeth as his eyes dropped from yours. You were about to coo his name and assure him again, when he nodded at you and tried to half-smile. "Okay," he breathed.

"Okay?"

"Mhm. I'll, uh... M-Maybe I can, just, hang back in the car."

"Sure, baby, whatever you're comfortable with," you whispered, leaning in to peck his forehead. "You good?"

"I will be."

"Mhm," you hummed, caressing his cheek again before pushing your hand into his curls. "Now, let's get a move on - I want you to march in there, say you're sorry to your Chefs, and then we'll leave."

"Yes, ma'am," Carmy whispered, leaning in to kiss you - but you pulled back.

"Aht," you halted him with a teasing finger to his lips, "after we've got everything worked out, then you can kiss me."

"You got t'kiss me," he mumbled against your finger; making you hum as you fought off a stretching smile, and lower your hand.

"Fair point - just one then - "

He cut you off by, indeed, pressing a single kiss to your lips, but not pulling back. His hand raised to hold the back of your head, your lips spreading in a grin against his; finding rhythm to move together before pausing to press in prolonged passion.

When he pulled back, you both paused to smile, and when you tried to peck his lips again, he pulled back, teasing, "Aht, just the one."

"Oh, fuck you," you laughed lightly, letting him take your hand before leading you back into the kitchen. The other Chefs lingered, sparing you and Carmy a few nervous glances, making you whisper in his ear as you squeezed his hand, "Go ahead, baby, get it done."

He nodded and called the kitchen to attention, clearing his throat, and beginning to make his apologies. He singled out Marcus, then Sydney, Richie, and Sugar; the kitchen staff all accepting his words and insisting he could take the day off - even the next few days if he wanted! You had to usher him to grab his things a few times, nudging him in reminder and verbally pushing him back into action. That boy's ADHD would truly be the death of him.

"So?" Richie smirked at you as Marcus handed you a packaged box of pastries.

"We're talking it out."

He chuckled, "Good. Get him outta here, Peach, dude needs to breathe."

"I got it," you swatted him away as Carmy exited the office. "But we've got somewhere to be first, right?"

He paused, then nodded and asked in a mutter, "He said okay?"

"He's got time to decide what he wants to do, but he knows we're going. C'mon, get your coat."

Richie met you at the front of the restaurant and with a parting wink to Sugar, you took Carmy's hand, tangled your fingers together, and left to venture to your parked car. Carmy got in the front, Richie in the back, and after a stop at a corner bodega to grab three bouquets of flowers, you drove to the cemetery. Carmy was silent, no music played, and Richie's leg bounced in anxious tension; making small conversation with you about your job in an effort to distract himself.

When you arrived, you pulled up on the access road that you knew was closest to Mikey's grave. Richie spared a glare between you and Carmy before muttering that he needed a cigarette and got out of the car to leave you alone. "Baby?" You whispered, reaching for his hand. "Hey, look, if you don't want to go with us, it's okay. We won't be long... But maybe you want to sign this," you showed him the small, blank name card left in the flowers.

"Why?" He whispered.

You shrugged, "So he knows they're from you."

"Peach," he sighed, meeting your eyes.

"Baby, I know it's silly, I know it's easier to ignore it all. But I'd like to believe it's just a nice gesture for our own closure - it's a signed gift from us, to them... And maybe it's nice to pretend that wherever they are, they know what we've left for them."

Carmy nodded slowly, "I-I don't think... I don't think I can go..."

"It's okay, baby," you whispered.

"But," he sniffled, opening his hand to you, "I'll sign it, if you'll leave it for me?"

"Of course," you rushed, opening your purse to producing a pen for him. The clank card rest on the center console of your car, pausing, swallowing nervously, then scribbling his name as he cleared his throat. He offered you the pen, waited until it was put away, then offered the flowers. "Hang tight, we won't be too long," you whispered, leaning in to rest your forehead. "You okay?"

He nodded, pecking your forehead before letting you get out of the car. You handed Richie his own flowers with a signed card, holding your own and Carmy's; linking arms with Rich to venture up the small grass hill and moved about halfway down the cemetery plot line. When you came to his stone, you understood this was what Rich needed more than you, so, you knelt and laid the two bouquets down before starting to quickly groom the area around his tombstone.

You told him, "I'm sorry it's not much, but I'll be back later for a picnic and a chat. I brought you flowers from me a-and from Carmy. He's in the car, but he's here, Mikey... Give him time," you whispered, brushing dirt from the stone before standing. "Take your time," you told Richie softly, seeing the tears gather in his eyes.

"Thanks, Peach," he whispered, offering you a tight hug. When you pulled back and started to walk away, Richie lowered himself to kneel and lay his own flowers down; hearing him tell Mikey, "Don't gotta worry 'bout us, Mike-Man, Peach is the glue that keeps us together. Shit, she even got Carmy out here..."

You made it back to the car and got in, smiling at Carmy - but dropping it the instant you saw tears in his eyes. "Talk to me," you whispered, reaching for a wet wipe in your glovebox to clean your hands after plucking the grass and brushing off dirt from the grave.

"Why can't I get out?"

You only stared at him for a long moment, unsure what to say.

"I'm here... I'm finally here... Why can't I get out?"

"You're not ready," you nodded, tossing the wipe aside to a plastic bag. "It's okay, Carmy, it's okay to not be ready yet. We can come back when you are," you reached for his hand.

"I think this added to my frustration," he admitted. "I couldn't... I didn't go to the funeral, haven't been here since he was... You know."

"Laid to rest."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Fuck's wrong with me?"

"You're grieving," you relented, nuzzling closer so your head rested on his shoulder. "It's not linear, Carmy, baby, just let yourself feel. When you try to repress your emotions, you lash out inappropriately."

"I know," he whispered, "'M sorry."

"It's not your fault," you promised, the two of you quietly bowing your heads together. You remained as such until Richie got back in the car, and from there, it was quiet as everyone stewed in their own emotion. You dropped Rich back at work before promising to call him later and driving away; heading for Carmy's apartment in the soothing silence, his hand locked in yours.

When you arrived at his apartment, you froze upon seeing the interior's state. "Oh, Carmy, no," you whispered, frowning deeply.

"Looks worse than it is," he deflected. You only hummed and let him lead you to the bedroom; watching him strip and prepare for bed before joining you on the mattress. He crashed almost immediately, sighing in relief as he pecked over your shoulder and collarbone, muttering, "'M so glad you're back. 'M so sorry, Peach."

"I know you are, and I forgive you," you told him softly, carding a manicured hand through his hair. "Just get some rest, baby."

He was asleep nearly instantly. He deflated on top of you, deeply resting enough to not notice you slip out from under him. You cleaned his entire apartment; doing laundry, cleaning, scrubbing, replacing necessities he deemed himself too lazy to pay attention to. You did dishes, cleaned out his fridge, and as you mopped up the floors, the sun set and Carmy emerged from the bedroom.

"Baby?" He mumbled in earnest confusion, sighing in relief when he saw you.

"What? Afraid I disappeared on you?" You teased with a small grin.

"For sure," he mumbled, wiping sleep from his eyes; making your amusement dim when you realized the nerve it struck. "The hell you doin'?"

"You didn't seriously think I could rest knowing this monster of a clean-up job lingered out here, did you?"

"I don't want you t'clean after me."

"Well, too late," you smirked. "You good now?"

"I feel better, yeah."

"Good."

"And I made up my mind."

"Hmm? About what?"

"I'm gonna take some time off work," he nodded, "and focus on us. Get us in a new crib, it'll be nice."

"Think you can handle that?"

He nodded, "I'll have to, you're the most important thing in my life, I can't lose you. So, if I gotta take time off, that's the least of my worries. I'm only here for us, for you."

You smiled at him, setting the mop aside to wrap him in your arms. "I like the sound of that, us making a home together - being able to decorate a new home. But don't let me overdo it, okay? I get all excited and kinda bulldoze my way through projects. I don't want you t'find real reason t'resent me."

"Nah, that ain't possible," he promised quietly.

True to his word, Carmy took three solid weeks off; agreeing to a fourth week as a contact-only consultant. You and he slept in most days, looking at apartments, and not once did he even mention work. He was diligent in his attention, focused on you and you alone; putting in overtime to rebuild that what was broke by focusing on shared interests again. You found a place you loved ready for what was basically immediate move-in, taking time to pack your respected places and prepare for the official start of your cohabitating relationship.

You didn't forget what he said, being reserved in your displays of love. Yet Carmy was different; he was totally clingy the moment you returned to his life. He feared letting you go meant you'd disappear again, feared you'd run away again. He held your hand at every possible opportunity, got you a fresh bouquet of weekly flowers, ran all his errands with you; never went to bed without you, cooked all meals with you in the kitchen - perched up on a counter. Most showers you took together, and almost every night was spent cuddling on the couch or in bed with either a book being shared between you or a new show playing on the mounted flatscreen TV.

Carmy clung because he thought if he showed you acts of his love, it'd allow comfort towards your loving behavior to flourish again - and he was right. It took a little bit of time, but Carmy clung tighter and tighter; ensuring you started to reciprocate before ever easing up in the intensity of his affectionate displays. He didn't want to overwhelm you, but knew you needed the reassurance.

You were cautious, you were apprehensive; tiptoeing around Carmy even when living together before warming back up to him. You didn't need to repeat the words he hurled at you all those weeks ago, not wanting to dredge up repressed feelings, but never letting him forget what he said. Your actions spoke enough, skittish around his affection; something Carmy took note of and despised himself for. He made up for it, of course he did, it was Carmy and he hated tension and conflict in his closest circles of life. Yet it wasn't so easy for you two to move forward, they weren't just words to you.

They were direct insults to you as a person; to you and how you loved others. Carmy had seen your deepest fear and used it as a defense against you - wanting you to hurt the way he was, too. He understood this wasn't acceptable, knowing the next time he resorted to such despicable actions, you'd simply walk away; never dealing with disrespect, so, he needed to be acutely aware of his words.

You would never allow yourself to be someone else's doormat, but part of being an adult is understanding that people were allowed to make mistakes - it's part of being fucking human. How terrible you'd feel if someone held your own mistakes against you, because the truth was, you weren't perfect either.

Part of being in a(n adult) relationship is understanding when someone apologized, it was best to accept and move on because nothing was ever solved by dragging turmoil out. This didn't mean forget what happened, forget whatever emotion was evoked - but to do your part to repair what was broken; no matter who was at fault, it always took Two to Tango.

And in this song and dance, you were ready to sweep around the dance floor if only with Carmy. Because that's what a relationship was; a conscious effort by both partners to work as one, to dance in-sync; owning the art together, as equal partners.

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stevebabey · 27 days

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"Alright, here we go!" The bartender announces, leaning up to place the drinks on the bar.

"That's one whiskey, neat—" He says, sliding the lowball cocktail glass with amber liquid in front of Eddie.

"—And one Whammin' Slammin' Booty-Bangin' Pina Colada."

He places the extravagant cocktail in front of Steve. It's decorated to the nines with a straw, an umbrella, a piece of pineapple, and a little bit of tinsel on a toothpick. A whole party decoration in a drink.

"You guys have a good night." The bartender says warmly, already moving down the bar to tend to other customers.

Eddie stares down at the whiskey in the glass before him and pouts a little. Beside him and watching his boyfriend closely, Steve rolls his eyes.

"Oh, quit being dramatic," Steve says, sliding the cocktail across the bar so it's in front of Eddie, who had ordered it. He steals the glass of whiskey back at the same time.

"It happens every time."

"It happens most times."

"That isn't much better!" Eddie protests, even as he leans down and takes a long sip from the straw while they both get to their feet and leave the bar. Steve's hunting for a table they can snag, his eyes narrowed in focus. Eddie follows him blindly, his cocktail cupped in both hands.

"I'm serious, Steve! What is it about this adorable face—" He says, gesturing to himself, barely letting go of the straw to talk. It doesn't seem to faze him that Steve doesn't even glance back. "—Says I don't want to enjoy a Whammin' Bammin' Big Booty Colada?"

Steve comes to a stop, pausing his search for a moment to look back at Eddie. His expression seems unimpressed on the surface but Eddie can see his lips twitching up at the corners.

"We've had this conversation too many times, babe." He sighs halfheartedly and takes a quick sip of his own whiskey, eyes casting back out across the bar. "You have scary dog energy, you know this. You specifically dress like this on purpose."

Eddie picks up the pineapple wedged on the edge of his glass and bites into it, sending it down with another sip of his cocktail as Steve leads them further into the back of the bar. He finally spots a spare empty table.

"C'mon, I think I found one." Steve urges, one hand snaking back to make sure Eddie's following.

"Is it a crime to wish to not fall victim to stereotypes?" Eddie prattles on, following Steve duly by slipping his hand into Steve's outstretched one. His cocktail wobbles precariously as he takes another gulp.

"Like when that waitress gave me your awful black coffee! And you got my delicious delicacy that I paid extra hard-earned money for..."

i like to think that when steve and eddie go out, people always lean into their assumptions and are like hmm ok preppy boy with the polo? oh he gets the fruity cocktail! and eddie is always like >:( i don't want this expensive puddle of piss gimme the bonanza supreme cocktail pls. like excuse me i paid for that.

#steve's got expensive booze taste bcos he partied lots as a teen & he got into his dad's expensive stuff #and now it's all he likes #eddie doesn't drink loads cos he usually smokes instead so when he does drink he never wants to taste the alcohol #and he likes that they're pretty and come w fun things :)#steve also likes black coffee cos he was on that Sports Diet through hs #eddie packs his with sugar and creamer if he can #hehehe have this headcanon <3 from me to you #that i thought of rn #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie headcanon #heheheheh <3 #i also love drinks with the most insane names. like please tell me you know what i mean #ruby writes steddie

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sleepyconfusedpotato · 2 months

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Catch My Breath

The first kiss.

Set in Christmas Eve 2022, after the events of Call of Duty Modern Warfare II.

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Eleanor "Ladybug" Graham (OC) Characters : Simon "Ghost" Riley, Charlotte "Jade" Le Jardin (OC), Captain John Price, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Eleanor "Ladybug" Graham (OC), Alejandro Vargas Word Count : ~ 9600 Warning : Fluff with a slight bit of angst, a touch of hurt/comfort, and good ol’ cursings.

‘Dont forget to come to cpt prices house today.’

‘Of course not. I’m still at the orphanage for christmas gifts exchange. As soon as I'm done I'll be there :)’

‘Good’

‘Gaz is making some bangin biscuits and scones’

Jade smiled at her phone as she chatted with Soap. Her mouth already watering from imagining the taste of Gaz’s cooking on her tongue. According to Soap’s and Ladybug’s testimony, his chocolate biscuits were second to none.

‘Wouldn't miss it even if I die.’ She typed.

‘Alright. See ya.’

She bit her lip. There's one more question she wanted to ask though. She contemplated asking Soap this or not.

Her thumbs moved across the screen slowly.

‘Is Ghost coming?’

When Soap had invited her to the dinner five days prior, all Jade could think about was whether or not Ghost would be joining. Their one week together in Las Almas made her feel… something. Something really, really good. Something she hadn’t felt in what felt like an eternity. He earned a friend in Alejandro, Rudy, Soap, and Ghost, especially, whom she’d thought of as a real piece of work back in Verdansk. Oh, how foolish she was.

He was the best part about Las Almas.

Dammit. What was she thinking?!

By the end of Chicago, after they eliminated Hassan, Ghost and Jade had traded phone numbers. Jade had his numbers and named it “💀💢 Beanpole 💀💢”, after the nickname she gave to him before they knew each other’s name. They haven’t texted at all. Ghost wasn’t the kind to text first, that much was clear to everyone who knew him. And neither was Jade. In fact, she didn’t know what to text him first. A “hi”? A…

What else?

What do people text each other when they’re trying to get to know each other? She had no goddamn clue. Well, she knew what to text when she wanted to get intel from an unassuming target, but she didn’t want intel from Ghost.

She just wanted to know if he was okay, if he was fine, if the gash on his shoulder was healing well. Because of course, in her 29 years of life, a serious romance wasn’t a luxury that she could afford in her line of work in MI6. She took that lesson from her parents who literally had to ‘die’ first in order to even start. The point is, none of them texted first. They’re just another series of numbers in their contact list.

An animation of dots showed up, indicating that Soap was typing.

He’d typed for a few seconds before the animation stopped for a moment, and then started typing again. He must be changing his response.

‘If there's food he should be there.’

Oh? ‘... should be there’. That meant Ghost was not with Soap at the moment, and he didn’t know for sure whether or not Ghost would be coming along. A week in Las Almas was enough for Jade to know that Ghost had grown closer to Soap as a friend-brother figure. The fact that Soap might’ve not known about his whereabouts was not a surprise, though. He’s the Ghost after all.

But she couldn’t help but think, where was he?

What did Soap type?

“Chacha! Can you help me a bit here? We're about to start the event!”

Jade looked up from her phone, her ginger hair falling on her shoulders as she tucked her phone back in her pocket, swiftly walking over to one of her co-workers, Esther, an elderly soft-looking lady who volunteered for the orphanage - her former orphanage. This place held a lot of bittersweet memories, and it made her who she was.

Her legs brought her to one of the high ladders leaning onto one of the walls of the dining hall. She took many mistletoes from the decoration boxes and swiftly climbed the ladder, hanging the vegetation one by one with ease.

“Do we need this many mistletoes?” Jade asked while her hands worked. “At this point we’re gonna kiss someone by accident.”

“Of course not, what are you talkin’ about?!” Esther’s loud laugh almost broke Jade’s ears. “It’s Christmas, Chacha. The church had an overflow of mistletoes from the donations. If there's a day where we can add as many mistletoes as we can, it’s now. Let's call the kids over.”

“Alright. Let's start this shall we?”

—

The sound of Jade’s boots rang throughout the pavement as she hurried over to Price’s house. She travelled by public transportation from Surrey as she didn't have a car with her (plus she’s not much for driving safely - fake driving licence and… all that). She looked down at her watch to see 7 PM as the cold night finally settled. Each of her breaths turned to clouds in the air, shivering as she didn't have her outer jacket with her right now. She’s never one to be unprepared, but after one of the kids got too excited about getting a Lego toy and spilt a whole glass of apple juice onto her jacket, Jade had to fight through the cold with her trusty turtleneck and only one layer of thin knitted jacket as an outer, clutching the soaked coat close to her chest.

Finally, after what felt like an hour of walking, Jade reached the front of Price's house, immediately knocking on the wooden door three times. She looked up at the massive three-story building made out of bricks, that had a good space in the front yard. The building looked old like a family heirloom, but she could tell that it was pretty much taken care of. There’s a pair of trees that had shed all their leaves for the winter and had a decent amount of vegetation on either side of the doors.

Jade looked back at the front yard. There were three cars parked in front, and she assumed that one of them belonged to Price, the other two should belong to either Gaz’s, Soap’s, or Ghost’s.

The wooden door opened. She expected Price as the owner of the house to welcome her, instead, it was Eleanor, Gaz’s very own Ladybug who immediately screeched on top of her head. “JAAAADEEE!!! You’ve finally arrived!” The medic bursted out of the door hugging her figure so tight Jade might’ve folded. A beautiful burgundy sweater around a tan shirt wrapped her figure perfectly, and of course, with her wavy dirty blonde hair tied on the back with the ribbon Gaz gave her, worn out as it could be.

“Hey Lady! I miss you so much!!” The ginger greeted warmly all the while trying her best to stay balanced on her feet or else she’d fall five steps down to the ground on her back. As Lady pulled away, she gave room for Jade to step inside the warm house, taking a glance at Jade’s look.

“Whoa. You only wear two layers? You’re shivering!”

“Yeah. Apple juice all over my jacket, but don’t mind it.” She chuckled as she took off her jacket and coat to hang them on a standing coat hanger on the side of the door, “Have the others arrived?”

“Yeah. It looked like he was coming back from somewhere though.”

“You’re the last one. I came early with Kyle to bake the cookies and help Price with the food. Soap came second bringing sacks of snacks and drinks, and Ghost had just arrived before you, about 45 minutes ago.”

That caught Jade’s attention, her heart beat a little faster just at the mention of his name. “Just? Isn’t the Captain’s invitation at 5 PM?”

Somewhere?

Lady’s eyes half blinked, looking at her teasingly. “...Am I sensing something here?”

“What? No. No. It's just that he’s um… usually an on-time kind of man.” Jade tried her best to act indifferent, looking away from her to observe the doorway decorations.

“Oh really? I see, I see.” Ladybug nodded, “Because I might have heard some stuff from Kyle~”

Jade’s eyes opened wide at the statement, her mind already racing at the thought of what Gaz had said to his girlfriend. “What did he sa–”

“There’s me trusty Ginger!”

A voice which she could identify from a mile away as Soap’s, called to her. Donning the green military-issued sweater above his uniform, which he rolled to the elbow, he walked in both women’s directions with a chocolate biscuit in hand.

“Well hello there, Ocean Eyes.” Jade softly hugged Soap’s ever-bulky body while he patted her back several times. “How's your arm? Healing well?” She remembered how Soap got shot by Graves in Las Almas and how both of them, along with Ghost, had to survive the Shadow’s manhunt in the city. Even in Chicago he had to force through it.

“You’re one to talk. How's your side?” Soap pointed at her left side while munching through his biscuit.

“You got hit?! Where?!” Ladybug, who’d been in Urzikstan to help Farah and Alex for nearly a year after Barkov’s demise, hadn't been updated much about Las Almas. Looked like Gaz left that tiny little detail.

“She did get hit.”

“No! No no. I didn't get hit per se. We were… breaking into the Las Almas prison to free Alejandro and the Vaqueros - a little bullet missed my hip, but it did leave a teeny tiny graze.” Jade made a little gesture with her thumb and index fingers.

“It wasn't.” Soap retorted, which made Ladybug look even more concerned. “You almost fell from the prison walls during our escape and LT had to catch you and carry yo–”

“ANYWAY.” Jade tried to dismiss the conversation away from Ladybug’s growing unease. “It was quite literally us four against a thousand. So we had our own hits. It was a month ago, right? I literally walked my way here! See? Now. Where's the man of the house?”

“Thought you want to camp in that doorway.” Price's gravelly voice called from the living room, his head peaking out from one of the walls. “Come in and close that damned door will ya? The forecast said it’s going to rain snow unless you muppets want to shovel the snow.”

With Jade closing the door, they all walked together towards the interior of the house, where the warmth from the fireplace radiated throughout the room cozily. And holy shit. The word ‘family heirloom’ could perfectly describe the house. Some of the furniture looked like it was carved specifically for the house, soft carpets covered some parts of the wooden floor, and portraits of whom she assumed as the former Prices hung on the walls. The exterior of the house didn’t do the property justice at all. Soap had said that this was the Captain’s own house which he’d left mostly abandoned since he resided in Herefordshire. She wouldn’t lie, if Price turned out to be a secret old money she wouldn’t be surprised.

Jade’s eyes found Gaz at the kitchen island wearing the same exact outfit as Soap and Price, but with an apron around his waist while he pulled out another batch of chocolate cookies from the oven. Gaz noticed her presence when Ladybug approached him and pointed her way. “Oh, Jade! Come here and eat the salmon. You’re not allergic to fish aren’t you?” This sight of Gaz was pretty surprising for her. He seemed more cheerful and open around Ladybug, contrasting to his serious demeanour in the field. It was refreshing, to say the least.

Jade put down her bag on one of the sofas where Price sat on the edge of it, shuffling a deck of cards in his hands skilfully. “Nope, no allergies. Have all of you eaten yet? Sorry I’m late.”

“We have, and apparently my Ladybug over here is a vacuum cleaner of food.” Gaz was replied with an elbow to the rib by his partner.

Taking her own plate of baked salmon, Jade watched from just enough distance as Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ladybug played a game of poker on the desk. The atmosphere was tense from the rivalry but hearty at the same time, their laughs filled the room as Price caught Soap hiding a card on his sleeves, which resulted in a 50 push-up penalty for the Scot. Apart from the chaos, Jade couldn’t help but find herself trying to find that one particular big man.

The memories of sharing sleepless nights together on the rooftops of Fuerzas Especiales base rushed down her mind. Those moments made up the few moments of peace that they could muster up from the chaos of Las Almas. Just the both of them, the night sky, two cups of tea, and the lights from the city of souls. All those times they spent together completely with his mask on. Only when he decided to take off his mask in front of the 141 and Vaqueros did she ever see his face.

She’s good with faces. That’s an absolute requirement for her job. That image of his face was ingrained in her brain. How the black paints surrounded his surprisingly soft eyes, how the sun reflected his whiskey brown eyes and light eyelashes, the scars on his cheeks from wearing the mask, and his strong jaw.

Jade only wished she could enjoy the actual sight of it once more.

The former MI6 turned her head a number of times, making up blueprints of Price’s residency inside her mind. This house didn’t have a rooftop, and from the looks of it, all the bedrooms are located on the upper floors. Ghost likes looking out at the scenery, so he might’ve gone upstairs, broke into one of the many bedrooms and looked out on of the balconies as he sipped on a cup of tea. Considering how Ghost was, he’d break into his captain’s house without anyone knowing about it just fine.

All the while the others were playing, Jade finished her plate of grilled salmon and found her way towards the kitchen sink to wash the dishes. She came the latest, the least she could do was helping cleaning the kitchen area. That task came to a halt when her phone vibrated. She was confused at first, but when her eyes read ‘Col. Vargas 🤠’ on the screen, Jade immediately accepted the video call.

“Hola, Coronel! Como estas?”

“Hola, Compa! Muy bien, muy bien.” Alejandro's gravelly voice greeted her excitedly as his video showed on Jade’s screen. She could tell that the sun was still up in Mexico judging by the light on his face. He looks like he’s standing just outside his family’s house. Quite rare to see the colonel in other attire than his military ones, but as Jade saw his blue shirt tucked inside his blue jeans, she couldn’t help the snicker that came out of her mouth. She remembered that Alejandro had revealed to her privately that he had two beautiful daughters who lived in Mexico City with their maternal grandparents. “I’m in Mexico City with my family to celebrate Christmas. We’re about to head to church for the Christmas Eve sermon.” Alejandro continued in Spanish, but something caught his eye. “Wait, Jade. Where are you? Is that Soap?”

Jade lifted the phone above her head to help him see the place clearly, “Yes, that’s Soap, Captain Price, Gaz, and that’s Eleanor, Gaz’s girlfriend.” She said in his language. Her fingers pointed at each soldier as they slammed their cards on the table, chaos ensuing in the middle of them. “This is Captain Price's house in London. He invited us all for dinner, and now that it’s done, they’re playing poker, aggressively.”

Now it’s Alejandro’s turn to laugh. “I’m assuming they’re on their second bottle of whatever alcohol they’re consuming.”

“Yep. Looks like Captain Price is richer than he lets on. He has 4 bottles of wine from the 1800s! Can you believe it?!”

Jade and Alejandro continued their video call, sitting in her former position on the sofa. Despite Soap’s slight dislike that they were conversing in Spanish as he couldn’t understand what they were talking about, Jade kept on going. Jade learned that Rudy stayed in Las Almas to rebuild and restore the city after the Shadows wreaked havoc, encouraging Alejandro to leave the city and unite with his family.

“So. Onto the most important topic…” Alejandro’s voice sounded deeper and his eyebrows lifted. Jade had learned after a thrilling week working together that those were a sign that he was onto something cheeky. “Where’s the Ghost?”

Again, Jade’s heart beat faster at the mention of his name, and her stomach grew warmer. Damn it. “Um, I don’t know where he is. He is here somewhere in Price’s house, but… I haven’t seen him yet.”

“He’s there? Have you tried the rooftops?”

“This house doesn’t have a rooftop. It does have a lot of rooms with balconies, though. But I didn’t see any open window from the outside.” Her head started to look side to side, “ I don’t know if this house has a back or side entrance, he might be somewh– Alejandro!!” Jade stopped when she realized that Alejandro was laughing his belly off.

“You’re looking for him too, don’t you?” The colonel guffawed. “Aaah, You should’ve seen your face when you were explaining where he is to me.”

“That’s–”

“Look. I wished you luck with him back in Las Almas. It’s only natural that I asked for ‘updates’!”

“Keep fighting the good fight, hermano.” “To the bitter end, my brother.” Soap handshook the Mexican colonel and sergeant as they were about to leave Las Almas. He then turned around and tapped Ghost’s shoulders twice, heading towards the rear end of the aircraft to unite with Price and Gaz. The lieutenant though, stood still on the tarmac a few steps behind Jade. “Good luck amigos y amiga.” Jade hugged Rudy warmly, tapping her back a few times before holding out her hand to handshake Alejandro. Instead of a handshake, Jade saw a wide grin on Alejandro’s face and opened his arms wide, indicating that he was waiting for a hug as well. “Come here, Hermana!” Jade chuckled, expecting that a handshake wouldn’t be enough for the Mexican. She obliged by stepping forward and warped her arms around Alejandro’s figure. What Jade didn’t see though, was how Ghost’s body tensed slightly behind her. Alejandro sneakily observed the man’s movement, looking visibly uncomfortable. No matter how skilled Ghost was at appearing as still as he could, Alejandro could see that this skill of his just disappeared when he was in Jade’s presence. Before Alejandro let go, he lowered his voice and spoke to Jade’s ear. “Que te vaya bien con el fantasma.” ‘Good luck with the Ghost.’ Jade blushed profusely when she translated that sentence in her mind, stepping away from the hug to punch his shoulder lightly “ey!!” She looked over to his side, finding that Rodolfo was also grinning ear to ear. “I mean it, Jade.” Alejandro spoke in Spanish, tilting his head as a sign that he was serious. Jade’s head nodded in surrender a few times. As much as they wanted to converse more, her job wasn’t over yet. Her legs started to walk backwards, “Gracias, Alejandro, Rudy. Cuidate.” Alejandro observed as she turned around, finding Ghost’s waiting figure right in front of her. She then tapped his chest plate once, jogging her way towards Price, Gaz, and Soap on the aircraft. That sight made the colonel scoff, glancing at Rudy, who looked as amused as he was. Just as Ghost was about to turn around as well to join his teammates, Alejandro called to his name. “Ghost!” The lieutenant turned around. “No te pierdas carnal!” “A huevo!”

“The both of you have forced me and Rudy to watch a telenovela the entire time! Please tell me that you’ve at least done something together after Chicago.”

“We traded numbers…” She said nervously.

“And then? Did he text first?”

Jade grimaced, expecting that Alejandro wouldn’t react well to her next response. “We… haven’t texted at all.”

“NO MAMEEESSS!!” Ale facepalmed on the video call like he just watched the Mexican national football team fail to score a goal in a World Cup match. “Ghost… I swear… you need to do better.”

Jade stood up and walked over to the kitchen aisle yet again and put her phone on a leaning position on the wall, hoping that Alejandro’s shout of despair didn’t reach the other soldiers. “Well– what if he doesn’t want to continue this… whatever’s going on between us?” she grabbed a white mug and a cocoa mix, putting in 3 spoons of the choco powder inside. “You’ve seen how he is. I don’t want to hope too much.” Jade confessed to the colonel, pouring hot water on the mug and stirring the contents with a spoon until the sweet aroma hit her nose.

“Oh you don’t know that yet, right?” Ale replied, “Do you want to have a relationship with him?”

A relationship with Ghost?

That sounded crazy to say, but if she's being honest with herself, yes. Yes, she did.

“Yeah…” She started to walk towards the hallway on the side of the kitchen with the warm mug. The walkway looked narrow and led to the rear side of the house. She guessed that if this conversation was prolonged, they were going to need a place where Soap wasn’t shouting his lungs off. Her green eyes looked to the end of the room, where a wooden door similar to the front door was present in front of her. A back door perhaps?

“Okay. Now one of you needs to start. Ghost clearly isn’t starting because he’s a stupid, bad man. But maybe you can convince him that you’re worth his time.”

Worth his time? “How?”

“Start by finding him.”

The former MI6 walked towards the back door and glanced over the glass parts where the outer side of the house was visible. Just then, she registered a man with a large frame, sitting on the stairs of the back porch. He wore the same attire as the rest of the SAS members - their military uniform covered with a military-issued sweater, and layered further with a familiar black jacket that she’d seen before in Chicago. The man had a mask over his head, but she could see that it was currently lifted up as he took a sip of what she assumed was bourbon.

That’s definitely Ghost.

“Jade? What happened?” Alejandro asked curiously as she stopped speaking earlier.

“I found him.” She muttered.

Alejandro’s lips curved, slowly forming a smile.

“The floor is yours, Jade.”

—

*5 hours earlier*

LT. You’re coming, right?

Ghost looked down at his phone, staring at the message that Johnny had sent him, not planning to text anything back.

He hated Christmas. No, he didn’t hate decors, the bright lights, the red, green, and white that coloured the streets and buildings around him. No, he’s not petty like that. He’s indifferent to it.

What he hated was how the month of December always reminded him of the darkest part of his life.

He lowered his phone and tucked it inside his pocket, going back to the sight of his family’s gravestones right in front of him. His mother, brother, sister-in-law, and nephew.

Ghost remembered the blood; the foul stench hitting his nose as he stood frozen, witnessing the lifeless bodies of his family – all surrounded by the colourful lights of red, green, and blue from the Christmas tree that they were decorating. If only he realized sooner that his enemies wouldn’t settle with torturing him. If only he wasn’t so naive and thought that his battles were done as soon as he was home. How wrong he was.

How fucking wrong he was.

Ghost’s tears had dried out a long time ago. Every Christmas Eve he always visited their graves. He’d cry for the first three years, but now he’d settle with staring at the stones, not a word coming out of his mouth. Just him, alone with that memory.

His phone vibrated again. Johnny’s still messaging him about the dinner at Price’s house. Ghost closed his eyes in annoyance and sighed, taking his phone and turning it on to find a few messages.

‘Captain said not to disturb you during Christmas week’

‘Idk what you’re doing now’

‘but I hope you’re enjoying yourself’

Ghost moved his thumb on the keyboard screen, wanting to text Johnny that he was not coming and to stop messaging him.

His thumb paused right above the send key.

‘Also’

‘Jade’s coming’

Fuck.

Why did his heart beat faster suddenly? What was this warmth in his stomach? His memories of his family’s death disappeared, and suddenly all the moments with Jade came down rushing through his mind.

The moment when they met – where they shot at each other in Verdansk, leaving a permanent mark on his left ear – The sleepless nights in Las Almas, the meaningless conversations, their moments in battle together. How beautiful she was when she kept her calm during pressing and stressful situations, the grace in her movements…

Fuck.

Fucking hell.

Ghost had read Price’s invitation two weeks before in their group chat. He already made up his mind from the beginning that he wasn’t coming. He never really enjoyed parties or any form of gathering at all. That’s how he’d been living for three decades of his life. Why did that one mention of her name from Johnny instantly change his resolve just like that?

He didn’t reply to Johnny at all, only leaving the two blue check marks indicating that he’d read Johnny’s messages.

And that… was how Ghost ended up sitting on Price’s back porch. The crescent moon was high in the sky. Little bits of snow started to fall down alongside the windy weather. For the first time of the day, he had his skull-painted balaclava up to his nose in order to take a sip from his glass of bourbon.

When he had arrived at Price’s front yard with his sedan, Ghost saw the amused surprise in Price, Gaz, and Lady’s faces, but he also took a glimpse of Johnny’s smirk on his lips. The sergeant now knew the way to his heart, and it infuriated him. God damn him.

The sun was already long gone by that time, and he could see that the others were already in the midst of eating their dinner.

He’d sneakily taken a glance around Price’s luxurious house.

No Jade yet.

Ghost had conversed for a while with Price, took his own plate of baked salmon, poured himself a glass of bourbon, and excused himself to the back door. For an hour and a half, he sat right there, slowly sipping on his alcohol. Just as he thought that she wasn’t coming and that Johnny had lied to him, the wooden door behind his back opened.

He turned around and found the woman herself.

Jade.

Her ginger hair was braided like usual, but stopped on the back of her head, letting the long hair run freely down her back and shoulders. The deep red turtleneck which usually looked out of place in warm weather such as Las Almas currently fitted perfectly on her figure. A green pair of wide pants hung from her hip, letting the fabric run freely downwards instead of wrapping around her legs like the jeans he’s used to seeing her wearing during their mission together.

Ghost caught her green eyes, reflected by the moonlight, and he could easily tell that she wore some sort of makeup. What the name was he couldn’t bother to remember, but she looked… beautiful.

His heart was already beating pretty fast from the alcohol, but now it’s going even faster, and don’t even start about the butterflies that were flying rampant inside his stomach right now.

She only stared at him, her breaths turning to cloud along with the vapour from the cocoa mug she was holding. For a few seconds, they stayed like that, until Jade finally started.

“Why aren't you inside? It's cold.”

Can you miss someone’s voice? Apparently you can, judging by the unexplainable sense of relief that washed over him after he heard her voice. The last time he heard her voice was back in Chicago, a month ago. He then turned around again, facing Price's plain backyard to try hiding any signs from his exposed mouth that she might read. The former MI6 had this scary skill to read every body language of any person. Sure, he had a mask up to his nose, but he wouldn’t take any chances.

“I don't like parties.” He replied.

“It's cold.”

“Better than whatever's going inside. And I have my friend right here to keep me warm.” He slightly lifted the bourbon glass, shaking it slightly to make the content swirl.

Jade hummed. She observed his glass and noticed the alcohol. For all their nights in Las Almas, Ghost always drank tea, never alcohol. Of course, they were in active duty, so drinking liquor could cost them so much, but he'd said himself that he pretty rarely drinks, since Ghost had confessed that he liked being in control of what he did. She wondered why he was drinking, but she let it go. Instead, Jade stepped two stairs down, and sat beside Ghost’s left, drinking her own cup of hot chocolate.

“Why are you here?” Now it's Ghost’s turn to start.

She wondered how to answer that. If she's being honest, the answer would be ‘to be with you’, but she deleted that response in her mind. “I… don't really like parties.”

“…You don't look the type.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s ‘my’ type?”

Ghost took another sip from the glass, “Likes being around people. Gets your energy from a communal space.”

The former MI6 scoffed. “Fooled you right there. Maybe it’s just me, but being around people automatically sets me in observation mode. Don’t get me wrong, I like people. It’s just tiring.”

“Hm.”

Another few seconds of silence, before she continued. “What about you? Why are you here?”

“Gets noisy inside, especially if Johnny's starting to lose his grip on reality.” Ghost immediately answered, almost like he expected Jade to ask him that. “He’s a screamer.”

“Hey how's your graze wound? It's healing well right?

Jade suddenly asked, which surprised Ghost. He glanced at Jade, finding the woman herself looking straight into his brown eyes. He should admit, her face so close to his caught him off-guard, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, creating a cloud in the air. Ghost then took a sip from his glass again before answering. “Yeah. I changed the dressing every once in a while. It's just a scab now. “ To be honest, he kind of forgot about the wound on his right shoulder. It was disgustingly painful during their time in Las Almas and Chicago considering how he must carry the chestplate and his gears on that shoulder. The memory of Jade tending to that wound of his at the safehouse came rushing down his brain.

“Okay, that's a relief then. Just make sure you don't scratch it or it'll open again.”

“I know the drill, Midget, I’m not a kid. This isn't my first rodeo. What about you?”

“Wh-what about me?”

“Your hip.”

The former MI6 sucked both of her lips between her teeth. “It’s fine.”

“Fine how?”

Jade now looked at Ghost’s brown eyes, intensely gazing at her own. He wasn’t taking ‘It’s fine’ as an answer. He was always an intense person. She suddenly remembered the feeling of being safe in his hands when he carried her towards the van, arms under her shoulder and knees when she couldn’t bear the pain in her hip any longer.

How Ghost had slept the whole night, in a sitting position on a chair beside her bed in the safehouse with his mask on, staying right by her side.

“Oi. Midget. I’m asking you.”

That snapped her out of her thoughts. “Huh? Yeah! It’s a bit itchy at times, but I can manage. It’s healing well.”

That answer seemed to finally satisfy him. “Hm.”

Jade went back to her hot chocolate, but Ghost didn’t leave her. He could see her shivering a little bit in the cold. The tip of her nose and ears had turned rosy.

“You cold?”

“Hm? No! No, not at all. Why?"

“You're shivering. And where's your jacket? A single layer of sweater won't help with this fucking weather.”

“Well– About that. I was at the orphanage for Christmas gift trading earlier before coming here. One of the kids got… too excited and spilt apple juice all over my jacket, so I had to take it off.” She admitted.

“What, you're gonna freeze yourself to death here? It's 1 degree out.”

“I don't want to be insiiiide.” Jade whined, almost childish. A sight Ghost would never admit he found cute.

“Your survival instincts are out of the damn window. I thought you were a seasoned MI6 black agent.” Somehow he found more ways to ridicule her.

The ginger scowled, pouting her lips before standing up “…Whatever, I'm going inside”

“Fuckin’ hell– stay. Stay here. Sit back down.” Ghost’s swift hand grabbed her forearm a bit too harshly, prompting her to balance her hand as a drop of her hot chocolate spilt out to the white snow below.

“Why? You want me to freeze to death?” Regardless, she sat back down, closer to his body now.

“You're the only company I've got that isn't annoying. So stay here.” Ghost unexpectedly moved his arms to take off his black jacket, revealing his green sweater underneath, and much to Jade’s surprise, his arms loomed over her and rested the dark clothing around her shoulders. Her bewilderment failed to hide itself when his hand patted her shoulder a couple of times to set it in place. “There. Better?”

Wow. It’s… warm. And most importantly, It’s his warmth.

One of her hands left the warm mug, softly tracing her fingers along the hem of the jacket to tuck it closer to her chest. “...Better.”

Shit. Ghost didn’t know the sight of Jade beneath his jacket would create more butterflies to fly like bees inside his stomach. In an attempt to suppress it, he sighed, leaning back and closed his eyes to take a deep breath.

…before he opened his eyes, finding a mistletoe hanging right above them, placed neatly. And purposefully. It’s like a damned grenade trap. “…Fuckin’ hell…”

“STOP SWEARING!!” Jade exclaimed, annoyed at his shortage of vocabulary. “You've said those words twice in the same mi– What are you looking at…?” Jade looked at Ghost, who was leaning back while his head hung backwards on his neck.

She looked up as well, finding the mistletoe that made him swear. “…oh, blimey.” There was not a single Christmas decoration on the back side of the house but this one. Price was a person who had a high attention to detail, but Christmas decoration was not one of them. Heck, he barely decorated the house at all. That thing was hung far too strategically.

Both Ghost and Jade were thinking of the same thing.

Soap.

Ghost sighed, “Just ignore it.”

“But it's bad luck though.” Jade thoughtlessly said.

“You don't really believe that, do you.”

“Well I don't! It's hanging vegetation. Still, I'm saying it could be true.” Her hands gestured at the mistletoe above her.

“What, you want a kiss?”

The woman gasped, almost offendedly. “HUH? KISS YOU??”

“Who else is underneath this fucking mistletoe?”

She joked, trying desperately to hide her panic at the thought of kissing him. “A ghost.”

“Fucking funny. Also what's with you? It's just one kiss.”

Jade stopped speaking. Her eyes widened as she pursed her lips. “Um…. I just don't…”

Confusion fell down Ghost’s half-masked expression, quickly reading her reaction, until he got to the conclusion. “...Don't fucking tell me you haven't had your first kiss yet.”

When he saw how Jade couldn’t respond anymore, Ghost pinched his forehead.“Bloody hell... Then why did you say you want it?!”

“I NEVER SAID I WANT IT??? I just said that the bad luck thingy could be true!”

“Well fuck us for five hundred years then!”

“DAMMIT– OKAY!! KISS ME!”

Those words perplexed him, not realizing that he was practically glaring at her that his eyes might come out of its socket. The ever-present black paint around his eyes didn’t help to ease the tension either. Jade herself didn’t know which thunder slapped her that she said those words. She wasn’t the kind of person to just spout things without thinking of the consequences first.

Ghost observed Jade’s face, trying to read her expression, to see whether or not she was joking or serious. Because in the deepest part of his heart, he’d hoped that she was joking. But even deeper, he hoped that she wasn’t. “…you don't mean that.”

Jade wondered if her mouth had disconnected from her brain. What she was saying came out literally the opposite of what her instincts were. “You heard me. You can kiss me. Just a peck though.” What was she thinking? This was NOT what she wanted to say. Or was it? “How many women have you kissed?” Aaand now she’s prying onto his past? Great job, Jade.

He used to be young, that’s for sure. Despite his father and brother mocking him and his mother for it, he used to go to school and met a few women during his learning days. Only two of them, though, and that was all before he got into military. He didn’t know what commitment was back in the day, and his ‘girlfriends’ didn’t know that either. “...a few.”

“Were they experienced?”

“Probably so.”

Okay, so he had some experience. That somehow made her feel easy. “Well… I have zero experience on the act. So… be gentle, okay?”

“…Fine.“ Ghost breathed as he put down his almost-empty glass on the stone staircase behind him, finding Jade doing the same.

The coldness of the wind prickled her skin, making her realize that this was not a dream. He’s about to kiss her, and it’s from a mistletoe. Out of nowhere, she remembered the overflow of mistletoe that the orphanage received earlier. Could that be a sign? Either way, she snapped back to her current state, where Ghost was visibly looking at her lips, and that sight made her heart drum twice the speed. At this point, she might explode. “Okay. So… what do I do? Do I tilt my head a little, or do I open my lips just a little bit? Should I lean in to kiss you too? Or like–”

“Just. Stay. Still.” Ghost shut her up before she could blabber more.

“Okay okay okay”.

Jade watched Ghost secure his mask up to his nose, revealing his mouth. When she glanced at his lips, Jade could see a tinge of red on his cheek, but she could dismiss that as a reaction to the cold or from the alcohol he was drinking. When he leaned in slowly, Jade could see him so close, the closest he's ever been to her. His eyelashes were longer than she's ever realised, fluttering against his skin, the little healed scars on his face–

Jade sucked her lips into her teeth, "WAIT WAIT WAIT." Making the man flinch and pull away in confusion.

"What?! Do you wanna do this or not?!" Ghost exclaimed.

"I do, I do! It's my first time! Just–”

“I said all you need to do is stay. Still.”

“I've never done this before, literally! I'm 29 and I've never kissed someone!”

Ghost fell silent as Jade hid her face on her palm.

“…I have never fallen for anyone before.” She confessed. “I wanted my first kiss to be with the one and only, and now… “ Her hands wildly gestured to the mistletoe above them, “someone happened to put a mistletoe right above us.”

Jade was a lot of things. A formidable fighter, a dependable ally, a brave operator who’d jump from a cliff with you, a spawn of the devil herself when she does her thing. However, at that moment, Ghost didn’t see any of those at all. All she saw was a vulnerable woman, curled up in a ball because she couldn’t fathom the concept of a single kiss.

After a few moments of him letting her collect her thoughts, Ghost muttered, “…Jade, if you're not ready, then we can just pretend that it doesn't exist. You don't have to.”

“You know what?” She tapped both of her knees with a considerable force, like she just made up her mind about something. “I gotta start somewhere right? Besides, when I finally kiss my man, I need to work on my kissing game.”

Ghost couldn’t help the scoff out his mouth. And… ‘her man’, huh? That could be a dream. “'Kissing game'?”

“Yes! Gotta…know what it feels like, at least?”

Ghost observed her expressions yet again. The woman in front of her was looking at him like she’s about to surrender her life to his hands. What, was he about to shoot an apple above her head? To him this was just a kiss after all.

Or was it?

Jade wasn’t his girlfriends during his younger days. She’s an extraordinary woman like no other.

“…Okay. Look. We're gonna do this slowly. I will do all the work while you can just stay there. Does that work with you?” Ghost started, looking at Jade in the eyes.

She put on the bravest face she could muster up and proceeded with a nod.

“Say it.” The deep timbre of his voice sent shivers down her spine, because of course, it wasn’t enough for him.

“Okay, Ghost.”

“Good. Close your eyes, Jade. Just calm down. Trust me.

As she closed her eyes, she breathed the cold winter air deeply before letting them out. Now that her vision was no more, her other senses had heightened. The sharp cold air stabbing her skin, the faint sounds of Alejandro's guitar playing from inside of the house, the smell of hot cocoa on her hands, the faint scent of something that could only come from Ghost's jacket wrapped around her shoulders.

For a good amount of time, she didn't feel anything other than her surroundings. Jade was expecting something on her lips. Anything from the man that was sitting right in front of her, but none came. She was about to open her eyes and call his name, until something touched her chin, lightly lifting her head to face upwards. And just then, Jade finally felt a soft, tender kiss on her forehead. His lips stayed there only for a second before they parted with her skin, yet it felt like she longed for it for more than eternity. No one has ever laid their lips on her skin before. No one.

What she was expecting was something on her lips, not her forehead, so when Jade was about to open her eyelids, again, he stopped her by putting his fingers on her left cheek, tenderly sliding them from her rosy cheek to the back of her ear, taking the stray strands of her red hair with them. The hands that killed, that murdered many so more could live, were gingerly touching her face with an unexpected amount of softness. She didn’t know his hands were capable of doing such delicate movements, and neither did he.

Before she could register what was happening, she felt him getting close again, and for the second time, her expectation betrayed her when Ghost kissed her cheek, just right under her eye. The kiss lasted longer than the one on her forehead, yet Jade couldn’t find any reason to complain. If anything, she wanted his lips to stay on her cheek longer than that. To feel him closer, to feel him more.

Ghost’s fingers moved on backwards from behind her ear, going through the wilds of her undone hair and finding its place on the back of her head. Heart racing, Jade was expecting another kiss that was not in the designated place. However, when his deep, raspy voice softly said to her, “I’m going to kiss you now.”, she found herself giddy with her eyes closed. Part of her wanted to open her eyes and see what was going on right in front of her, but the other part stood strong against it, not wanting to ruin the moment.

So when she felt him closing in, Jade gave all control over to him. She relaxed herself, letting Ghost gently pull her head closer to his, to at last, close the distance between their lips.

It was the softest, slowest kiss possible, filled with unsureness on her part, yet with a sense of certainty and confidence from him, and because of that, Jade let him do his part, leading the kiss to the point that it was enjoyable and… lovely.

The kiss lasted for only a mere 5 seconds at most, but it felt like hours. Ghost reluctantly pulled back and saw that Jade had already opened her green eyes. Her face was painted with shyness and shock, a pleasant one, as she saw that Ghost had removed his mask entirely, his face right in front of hers, his brown hair still a bit dishevelled from removing his balaclava.

Jade was a heavily trained warrior and an exceptionally skilled individual who stayed calm in times of distress and emergency on the battlefield, a force to be reckoned with, and could be an absolute menace when she wanted to be. Now, seeing the same woman like this – dazed, wide-eyed, a blushing mess, and taken aback by a simple kiss – The sight made him smile softly.

If only she'd known how long he'd wanted to do that to her.

Palm still resting on the side of her neck, he asked her, “How was that for a first time?”

Jade looked like a robot losing its ability to function. There were no words in her brain to respond to his question. Scratch that. It looked like she didn’t even register what his question was.

Seeing her so flabbergasted made him let out a deep chuckle. “Midget. I’m talking to you.”

That bastardized nickname snapped her out of her thoughts, making her blink rapidly, seemingly trying to sort her jumbled brain. Jade looked at the man who just claimed her first kiss right in his dark, brown eyes.

He’s still right in front of her, face looking at her delightfully with a sweet smile, not like the usual dark, ready-to-kill gaze. It’s almost like looking at a different person entirely.

“Uh… Umm–” Jade couldn’t form words.

Another chuckle, “You okay?”

"...this is a weird request, but" A pause, "Can you… do that again?"

Never in a thousand lifetimes, he would ever expect that answer from her. "...You want me to kiss you again?"

"Yeah. Can you do that?" She spoke with a low voice. "Please?"

His eyes opened wide at her request. Confused, but amazed at the same time. Did that request mean she liked it? Her expressions said that she did, though. Or did she just want to make sure? Nevertheless, Ghost decided to oblige and leaned in again to kiss her.

Jade closed her eyes again and felt his lips against hers for the second time that night. His kiss was as soft and as tender as the first time. This one, though, she decided to take in the feeling of his rough lips, the way he tilted his head to fit hers, the way his large hand lightly pulled her in and softly kissed her. All the sensations she felt from his actions became ecstasy.

Her hands lifted their way up to find Ghost's cheeks. Jade could swear she heard a small gasp from the man. Fingers gliding along the side of his face, she could feel his stubbles grazing her skin. It was such a surreal sensation, to think that this is the face of the man who got branded as a ghost, a myth, who wears the mask to hide who he is. Right now, she's having her palm on the skin of his face, and he allowed her to.

No one had touched the skin on his face in years. No one ever managed to get their hands on his face save for enemies who sought to kill him and punched his mask before meeting their demise with his knife. The only form of touch he remembered was of his father, who was all but loving.

With the tip of her thumb, Jade traced the scars on his face. Her warm hands instantly built a gentle fire on his skin. The feeling of such a tender touch was almost like meeting a stranger to him. But if it's a stranger, why did he find himself missing it so much? Why did he yearn for it so? Her touch ignited a warmth that he never knew he needed.

At that time, the woman he was kissing felt more like home than anything and anyone ever did. He felt like he could just melt right there and then. Here Ghost thought that he was the one kissing her, but now it was like she was the one casting some sort of magic spell on him.

Soon, their hands moved, Jade’s hands left his cheeks and found his wrist who was holding the back of her head. He almost forgot the feeling of someone’s hand on his own, but before he knew it, he felt her other hand grasping his sweater, right above his heart, crumpling the cloth. As they went on, he couldn’t just stay still anymore. Ghost’s other hand also found its way to her back, lightly pressing on her. He wanted her closer, he needed her close.

Ghost snapped himself out of his thoughts and pulled back, catching Jade off guard.

The both of them looked into each other's eyes as they caught their breaths, not noticing that they'd been kissing for the last minute. Faces extremely red from racing hearts and rushing blood, clouds of cold air escaping their mouth from the cold, for a moment they thought they knew this was just because of a single mistletoe, yet deep down, they knew this was something more.

Not hearing anything from one another, Ghost took his hand back from her neck and waist as Jade parted her hands from him to her lips with her hands.

The man spoke first, "You need more?"

"Yes– I mean– No! That was enough." Words stumbled their way out of her mouth. "Uh… So… that happened. I just had my first kiss."

Ghost couldn't help the smile, "I just stole your first kiss."

"No. You didn't steal it." She denied, "If anything, I'm glad you are my first kiss."

Hearing those words, Ghost could feel his heart racing again, the world suddenly felt warmer.

"I'm sorry you have to kiss me, though. You've always hated me." Jade continued with a laugh.

"Who says I hate you?"

That made her look at him, and what she saw was the most gentle face she'd ever seen him. Again, she didn't know he was capable of that expression. "If I hated you, I wouldn't ask you to stay, wouldn't I?"

That's a true statement. "You're right. So we're past the "stay away from me" phase now?"

"Our first meeting was in Verdansk. Situation was out of control and we were off to a bad start." He explained, "And we just kissed. We're way past that now."

Smiling, Jade pursed her lips before saying, "So… are we still friends?"

"Friends?" He glanced at her.

"Yep."

"Friends then." Confirmed Ghost.

"Who just kissed each other."

"Because someone hung a fucking mistletoe on the back porch." He retorted while gesturing to the decoration above them.

The woman laughed out loud before looking at the man, who was also having a chuckle of his own.

That's the first time she heard him – saw him – this happy. Had he always been this… handsome? She'd only looked at his face once before, which was when he revealed himself to the team in the Los Vaqueros safehouse in Las Almas, and then, never again.

But if this was what Jade could see beneath the mask – his happy face, the crows feet on the corners of his eyes, the corners of his lips turning upwards, and the fact that she just learned that he had shallow dimples when smiling – then she wished the mask could just disappear. Forever.

Because after this… he would put on that mask again.

This might be the last time she saw him without the mask.

When would she see him without it again?

Out of nowhere, some unexplainable force of will inside her made Jade lean in and left a peck on Ghost's cheek.

The SAS lieutenant instantly looked at the woman, flabbergasted.

Jade herself gasped loudly, covering her face in disbelief of her own action. She couldn't see it, but in his eyes, her face was as red as her hair.

Why did she do that? What made her do that?!

They swore it was the most deafening silence in their lives. Both of them stayed like that for a good 10 seconds, seemingly trying to make sense of what the fuck just happened.

"Oh my God… OH MY GOD. I’M SORRY. I’M SORRY!” Jade uttered in absolute panic.

Ghost stayed still in silence, his eyes wide open glaring at hers.

Oh shit. Shit shit shit. He’s mad. HE’S MAD.

“It– It's freezing! I'm going inside!" Jade scrambled to stand up, taking the cocoa mug with her and went to the doorway, before remembering that she still had Ghost's jacket on her shoulder.

"Ja- Lottie! Wait–" He was about to stand up to follow her, but his words got cut by his jacket flying straight to his face. When he removed the clothing, she'd already disappeared into the merry party inside.

Touching the part where Jade kissed him, Ghost slowly stared back at the falling snow in front of the porch. He hadn't worn his jacket yet, and somehow he didn't feel cold at all.

It's so hot.

It's too hot.

He buried his face in his palms, before running them through his brown hair. She didn't have to do that, didn't she? There was a mistletoe, they kissed because of it, and that was it, right?

Then what was that peck for? There wasn't any obligation involved that required her to kiss him again.

Ghost could feel his heart pumping blood faster than it ever did, faster than when he was on the battlefield, faster than when he ran laps every day. Butterflies were rushing deep inside his stomach, flying all around his insides like it just wanted to break out of his body.

He didn't know why, but if the kiss and her touch were a gentle fire that built slowly, that little peck felt like he just got struck by a damn thunder.

Violently.

And yet, he was so happy about that little peck - weirdly more so than the kiss - Too fucking happy.

Ghost grasped the sweater right above his heart before muttering to himself,

"Fuckin’ hell…"

Jade didn't melt his cold heart.

She set it on fire.

—

Price couldn’t believe the situation he was in.

His sergeants, Kyle and Soap, along with Ladybug, leaning on the back door of his house, looking at Ghost and Jade kissing at his back porch. Fucking spectacular.

“See, Gaz?! I told you–”

“SHUT UP Mate they’re gonna hear your loud arse.” Gaz nudged the drunken Scot’s rib to silence him.

Nevertheless, the plan worked. Gaz and Ladybug was the provider of the decorations since Price didn’t have any Christmas Decorations in this house in London. When Soap arrived with a mischievous look on his face and told the couple about “Operation Red Skull”, they were automatically IN on it.

And who would’ve fucking guessed? They made his house a home ground for matchmaking, and they succeeded. They weren’t his best subordinates for nothing after all.

Suddenly, Price heard a loud gasp from the three in front of him. His captain persona suddenly kicked in and stepped forward, shoving both of his sergeants to see the situation clearly. There they saw Jade and Ghost, looking at each other, with Jade’s face looking like she was absolutely shocked.

“Oh my God… did she just sneak another kiss to him?!” Ladybug exclaimed with a whispering voice.

“FUCK! I didn’t have a clear visual.” Gaz followed.

“I think it was just a peck to his cheek??” Soap added.

“Everyone fall back!” Price commanded, and just like muscle memory, they all scrambled back to the living room, taking their respective deck of poker cards and sat around the messy table to pretend like they were still playing.

Soon after, Jade herself opened the back door with a face that none of them had ever seen before – a combination of shock and embarrassment.

“Jade? You okay?” Ladybug twisted her body to see Jade. She was actually concerned about Jade’s feeling at the moment.

The former MI6 nodded uncontrollably like a shaking head doll. “Huh? Yeah. Yeah yeah, I’m okay.”

Gaz and Soap were covering their mouths with their deck of cards, unable to hide their smiles. It looked like they were about to break into a massive laughter.

What broke it was Captain Price, who suddenly asked Jade,

“Really? What’s that black spot on your nose, then?”

---

YEEEHHEHEEHEHHHEHE. Sorry for the long wait! Thank you for reading! Hope y'all enjoyed it! (❁´◡`❁)

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated <3

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belokhvostikova · 1 year

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𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing and pregnancy.

You’re simply minding your own business.

It’s when Eddie strikes best.

He saunters into the kitchen—hands behind his back, mischievous grin on his face—finding you snacking, your precious baby bump pressing up against the counter. His attention momentarily focuses on your “so fucking weird” concoction, as he refers to it.

You roll your eyes, as you watch him teasingly grimace. A dollop of fluffy, white whipped cream on your salty pickle. You didn’t care what Eddie had to say, it warmed your pregnant little heart.

“Hey there, pretty lady.” He grinned.

You turned to him, eyeing him, there was something storming up in his uniquely Eddie brain that you knew now involved you. Involuntarily.

You looked him up and down, “What?”

He scoffed incredulous, “What, I can’t just talk to my lovely,” *kiss* “beautiful,” *kiss* “pregnant” *kiss* “sweetheart?”

“No.” You pouted, unwavering to his affection until you found out what he wanted.

He huffed out an airy chuckle while rolling his eyes at you. “Fine.” He challenged back at you, matching your attitude playfully.

Keeping steady eye contact, neither of you breaking, he pulled his hands from behind him. Revealing a cassette player, he quickly pressed play, the loud voice of Ozzy Osbourne was swiftly on you, as Eddie—sneering with the upmost joy—shoved the speaker side against your belly.

Your broke eye contact first, and you couldn’t even be mad. You giggled, a sound that always made Eddie’s insides explode, especially knowing he caused it. “I’m gonna need you to carry this around for the next couple of months, baby.” He smiled. “Tape it to ya, even.”

He let go, causing you to have to hold onto it.

“Eds, I am not listening to Black Sabbeth twenty-four seven.” You laughed.

“Ah,” he bounced on the balls of his feet, “I figured you’d say that.”

Eddie pulled out a pair of headphones, sticking the plug into the jack, and placing it on your round belly. The muffled sounds of “Paranoid” echoing out.

He smiled proudly at his ingenious thinking.

“Bet they’re head bangin’ in there right now.” He looked at your belly with admiration.

“Really?” You laughed, calling defeat, and simply letting the headphone stay on you.

“What?” He whined. “Can’t have my kid coming out uncultured like fucking Harrington.”

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Totally took this from an episode of Full House with Uncle Jesse, lol.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #dad!eddie x mom!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader

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cuubism · 9 months

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I complained that Morpheus's season 2 cemetery fit wasn't tits-out, @magnusbae said "tits in outfits are so devastating because you know there's tits to be seen but they're in," I decided that's something Hob would say while drunk and that he should say it to Dream's face. And here we are.

“Listen,” Hob says, with the slurred, utter conviction of the very intoxicated, “listen. This’s. Important.”

“I am sure,” Dream agrees, sipping his wine. He himself is not drunk, but he’s gaining a surprising amount of amusement from watching Hob.

“You listening?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah,” Hob sighs, looking down into his glass. “You’re a good listener.”

Before Dream can respond to this, Hob shakes himself.

“But listen. S’such a tragedy you know?”

“What is?”

“Tits,” Hob says passionately, and Dream chokes on his wine.

“In,” he manages, once he’s swallowed and not asphyxiated, which felt dangerously possible despite his nonhuman form, “what way?”

“Always covered up,” Hob says mournfully, face crumbling. “Should be more societal—” he stumbles over the words, tongue heavy in his mouth, “socially acceptable to just. Be tits out. You know?”

Dream is not certain he himself has a strong opinion on the matter. He does not spend much time contemplating others’ breast tissue.

“Perhaps one day it will be,” he says, in an attempt to soothe Hob’s devastated expression.

“Can’t come soon enough,” Hob agrees, and raises his glass to Dream’s in a toast to the matter.

Dream obligingly clinks their glasses, and after Hob has drunk, swaps Hob’s glass of beer for a glass of water. Hob doesn’t seem to notice.

“Horrible to know that they’re there and you can’t even see them,” Hob continues.

“Torturous,” Dream agrees. “Unsurvivable.”

“Nah nah nah,” Hob counters, waving a hand. “Tits is a reason to survive.”

“I see,” Dream says, hiding a smile. He suspects Hob will be too hungover to even remember this in the morning. Probably it is for the best.

“Eleanor had great tits,” Hob sighs. “Among other things.”

For a moment Dream worries his cheerful drunkenness will tip over into melancholy, but then Hob adds, seemingly oblivious to how he’s blowing past his usual boundaries, “You know. I always thought—” he hiccups “—that you would have. Fuckin’. Bangin’ tits.”

Dream drops his wine glass.

It shatters against the table, but he pays it no mind as he stares at Hob, who’s looking off into the middle distance, lost in a memory.

“Dunno why,” he says. “You’re always so. Covered up. But I know there’s something there. You’re beautiful, you’re…” he trails off.

Dream does not know what to say to this, to the revelation that Hob is thinking of him in such a way. It strikes him more strongly than even hearing the word tits applied to his person, which is its own hard shock indeed.

Perhaps he is more drunk than he’d thought, for the first response that does come to his mind is would you like to see them?

This is undoubtedly a cue to end the evening.

“I think perhaps you should have some water and sleep now, Hob,” he says. “Your body will not thank you tomorrow.”

“Mmm,” Hob says, not really listening to him. “Yeah…”

Dream takes him by the arm and pulls him up from the table, manages to maneuver a stumbling Hob to the stairs at the back of the inn, to his bedroom, where he lays Hob down on the bed, pulling off his shoes. Hob reaches for him, and for a moment Dream is afraid Hob is going to grab at his chest, but he doesn’t, just lightly touches Dream’s cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, the words all blurred together, and something in Dream’s chest tightens.

“Sleep now, Hob.” He brushes a hand over Hob’s forehead, and Hob falls asleep instantly, relaxing into the pillow.

Dream lays a blanket over him, leaves water and aspirin on the nightstand. Stands, observing Hob, for longer than is proper or necessary. And then takes his leave to the Dreaming, where Hob’s words, drunken ramblings though they were, circle him for hours afterwards.

The fact of the matter is. Dream wants Hob. And has for some time. He does not know when exactly it struck him, only that he has increasingly become fixated on Hob’s hands, on the breadth of his shoulders, the warmth of his eyes. He has not known how to broach the topic. He has never had a lover who was a friend before.

Nor had he known whether Hob would be receptive to such a thing.

He supposes he has that answer now.

Hob has also handed him, though he probably did not realize it, an easy way to convey his interest. It will also, Dream thinks with a little smile, be somewhat… amusing to surprise Hob with the reality of his desire. Likely he never thought that would be the outcome of ranting to Dream about his breasts, such as they are.

I will visit him tits out, he resolves. Tomorrow, when he wakes.

Dream is no stranger to more revealing attire, though he has not cared to wear it since his captivity. This, he thinks, is worthy of making the change. He garbs himself in normal slacks and boots, his usual long coat open and unbuttoned— but under it is a sheer, long sleeved shirt, ruffled collar, cut out over the chest precisely as Hob had requested, drunk though he was. Truly, Dream thinks, observing the look in the mirror he has manifested in his chambers, the fashion of this decade is interesting indeed.

Thus clothed to the requirements, Dream commands his sand to take him to Hob’s flat, now that he can feel Hob has woken. He stands in Hob’s living room, and he waits.

Hob comes into the living room at the sound of his arrival, rubbing his eyes, still sleepy and hungover. He’s still in pajamas, and clearly has not been awake long. “Listen, Dream, I’m so fucking sorry, I should not have said— oh holy fuck.”

“I thought this would appeal,” Dream says, and watches Hob reel, eyes wide.

“Appeal. Appeal? Appeal to what, my fucking dick? Oh Jesus Mary and God-fucking-dammit, I’m making it worse—”

Dream is feeling very validated in his choice now. He smirks, taking a step closer. “You were very passionate last night. I thought perhaps. You would like to test your theory.”

Hob’s eyes are still huge. He swallows, throat bobbing, gaze bouncing between Dream’s eyes and his lips and his bare chest.

“My theory,” Hob says faintly. “Are you coming onto me? Please tell me you’re coming onto me and not just trying to break me. Because you broke me, I’m broken.”

“Until you spoke last night I… did not know that you thought of me like that,” Dream admits.

“Didn’t know? And here I thought I was the most obvious—” he bites the sentence off. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not dreaming, am I? I guess it could still be you…”

“You are not dreaming,” Dream confirms.

Hob steps closer to him, then, as if hypnotized. Strokes a thumb lightly over one of Dream’s bare nipples, and Dream shivers at the touch. Then Hob presses his hands flat to Dream’s chest, cups what little flesh is there in his palms. Dream does not have a particularly substantial chest but Hob seems compelled anyway.

“Are my ‘tits,’” Dream asks, quoting Hob from last night, “‘banging,’ Hob Gadling?”

Hob goes bright red, but doesn’t remove his hands. “Yeah, Dream,” he says, strangled, “you have the prettiest little titties I ever saw.”

This is not something Dream has ever cared about or even considered about himself, but he preens anyway.

“And if you’ve no objections I’d really like to get my mouth on them,” Hob continues. “You free now? Or did you come just to upend my world and run?”

“I am ‘free,’” Dream confirms. This is, in fact, his desired outcome. “Is that the only place you will put your mouth?”

“Fucking hell.” Hob kisses him then, rough and hot, hands going to Dream’s waist to pull him in so their bellies are touching. Dream hums in pleasure. And Hob pushes his coat off his shoulders. It falls to the floor, unheeded. “No, I want to fucking bite you. Kiss you everywhere. And I dunno what you have going on down there, but I’m going for that, too.”

Dream raises an eyebrow. “‘What I have going on down there?’”

Hob huffs. “Well I don’t know, you personification of insanity. What do you have going on down there?”

“What would you like me to have going on?”

“No,” Hob says, half a whine. “Don’t say shit like that, I’m not a strong man. Come on.”

He takes Dream by the hand, drags him towards his bedroom. And Dream smiles to himself. A desired outcome, indeed.

#this is the most ABSURD thing i ever wrote for this fandom but i make NO apologies #dreamling #dreamling fic #hob gadling #dream of the endless #my writing #magnusbae #tits0ut #never have a put such insane sentences in dream's mouth #the titlet

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messylustt · 10 months

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Hiya gorgeous!! What if Miguel & reader are in the middle of a super steamy bangin, he’s above her and she’s a moaning mess… But then he starts grinding into her in a way that makes his happy trail rub against her ticklish spot so she goes from moaning to giggling. And he’s quite offended at first like he’s buried to the hilt in her and she’s… laughing?? So she’s apologizing in the midst of giggles trying to kiss his frown away but he eventually lets up and chuckles as well. Don’t let that fool ya though, he’s only waiting a sec for the laughs to subside before going to pound town bc sir is still hard as rock inside her ;)

It’s a lil silly steamy crack idea if it’s not your jam that’s totally cool :)))

no no because this would actually be something so hwjidisksos. don’t get me wrong having miguel deep inside you, as he forced you to watch him by a tight grip to your cheeks—to ‘watch him ruin you’—is something that is making you an utter mess under him. “that’s it, amor…uh huh…your pretty hole is taking me so well…isn’t she—dios.” and through your moans and other obscene sounds you’d feel the brush of his happy trail tickling your sensitive spot (with how hard he’s thrusting into you), that your moans begin to turn into small breathy giggles at the sensation.

miguel is now tightening his hold in your cheeks, thinking to himself ‘she’s…laughing?’. you catch miguel’s almost offended expression as you quickly pull him closer to kiss you, drowning out your own chuckles as you find his tongue. but miguel pushes you back. “was that laughing just now?” he mutters close to your ear. “n-no.” you hold back your want to giggle more, but teeth come down onto your lip as miguel had slowed inside you before picking a pace that made you squirm. the un-patterned thrusts making you all whiny. “aw is that annoying?” he lowly snarks, his tone still breathy from fucking you. he leans closer now practically biting your ear. “that’s a shame.”

“i-i’m sorry…i didn’t mean to laugh.” you manage as your head knocks back. but no no, you’re gonna watch as miguel slowly tortures you, his claws forcing your head back to face him. “mm…sorry?” he looks down at your conjoined hips, harshly thrusting to prove a point. “you don’t sound sorry…” and that leaves room for you to beg and whimper for him to properly fuck you, as miguel now just chuckles in your ear.

#. ( misc thirsts )#the miguel effect #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel smut #spiderman 2099

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byullielle · 8 months

Text

Honey! Are You Coming? // Bang Chan x Idol!Reader

HONEY (ARE U COMING?), Maneskin Chan tells Y/N that he's ready to make their relationship public, but always with a flair for the dramatic, he hesitantly tells her that he wants Dispatch to do the piecing together and just keep heading out with you until a rumor starts.

Tags: Est. Relationship, Humor and Fluff, Idol!Reader, Age Gap (5 years), Paparazzi (Dispatch) Involvement, Slight Angst, Social Media Utilization, Slightly Non-Linear

Disclaimer: this is my dissertation on idols dating. sasaeng contact also appears in this. MINORS DNI.

a/n: i know the song has barely reached a week of release but come on, the song is perfect. might be revealing my maneskin addiction but its a bangin song sue me.

“Baby,” Chan places his chin atop your thigh as you hum and look away from your phone down in his direction. He looked so cute, a cat headband ready in your solo apartment now adorning his head, matching yours. His eyes are tantalizing, shiny, and absolutely filled with genius and love before he smiles, “I have something to tell you, a suggestion actually,”

There goes the mischief.

You raise a brow, now suddenly uncertain of the “suggestion” because you know Chan like the back of your hand, there’s a chance it’ll be stupid as shit.

“I think I’m ready to make our relationship public,”

A pindrop of silence blankets upon you as your breath catches on your throat. “Really?” you couldn’t help but squeak out. It was something you’ve talked about 6 months prior, right before Changbin was enlisted and he couldn’t help but turn down your offer regrettably because he thought it would impede on the moving process from dorms to personal apartments.

You accepted his decision and response wholeheartedly, because you were satisfied with the relationship either way, knowing damn well Jessica and Jack Bahng loved you and you were the other 7 kid’s assigned head noona (despite being younger than the entirety of the 00 line).

It was one of the factors that made you secure in your relationship with Chris but it was getting a bit exhausting to constantly hide behind masks and caps just to visit or hang out with him. It was a bit selfish when it came to intentions but when were you ever selfless when it came to your want for Chan?

So now that him sitting up brings you back down in reality you raise both your brows and move your head back, "Are you sure? I'm not pressuring you or anything," you immediately counter, "I hope this isn't something I pressured you to do Chan, I swear I'm fine with our current situation,"

He chuckles, cupping your face before pulling you in closer and pressing a chaste kiss against your lips. You pout at him before you feel the comforting pressure of his hand on the crown of your head, "I'm 100% sure baby, I promise," he smiles assuringly, pressing your foreheads together, "Everything is in it's place now, we can take this risk now,"

"Okay," you breathe out in relief and close your eyes. "Although," you open them up again to see an absolutely playful look in his eyes. "I have an idea,"

You hum, looking right into his eyes before he detaches his forehead from yours, instead pulling you into his arms pressed to his side like a teddy bear. "What if we give Dispatch a little game, hm?"

You couldn't help but scoff. Of course. Your boyfriend hated being boring and basic, why were you even surprised? "You're suggesting," you lean your head against his shoulder and look up, "That we head out there and wait for a dating rumor to happen?"

"So smart," he scrunches his nose at you which garners a light punch to his chest, "Don't patronize me," you scold, making him laugh a bit more. "But yeah exactly that," he affirms.

"Well you better talk to the managers for that,"

"What?" his manager nearly shoots out of his seat in surprise at the explanation before you turn to give him a 'I told you he'd be mad,' look before being shot back with 'At least your manager seems chill about it,'

You shrug and try not to shake your head too obviously.

"Actually I don't think it's half a bad idea," your manager speaks up and Chan's manager looks at her like she'd grown a second head. She throws her hands up, "I mean think about it, it's past comeback season and your other boys are in the military, they'd forget the heat in 4 months,"

"And if they don't?" Skzji questions with a cocked-up brow before your manager shrugs, "Free clout for the next comeback,"

Chan nods along, a bit impressed about being backed up because when you told her you were dating him she flipped out and you fought for nearly a week until you cried because you thought she was going to resign. Fun times.

Chan's manager seems to try and contemplate the repercussions of doing such thing. "Look at IU and Jisoo, they're doing fairly well now despite the dating revelations," she reasons out, "The fans will create a racket but let's have faith that the public would be a little bit more open-minded about it,"

"Y/N is also at risk," he throws back, "She'll be under more scrutiny compared to Chan because she's a female idol dating another idol, this is barely the same with IU and Jisoo,"

This makes you freeze up. He does have a very tangible and very correct point too—idol-to-idol dating was more delicate, especially given you and Chan's age gap, the fact that you were once co-trainees, and the demand of both you and him on fanbases, it was not the same formula as being or dating an actor.

But all in good faith. Should something backfire you're set for retirement and could simply carry on as a producer. Dating wasn't supposed to be such a locked-down, sure thing, but with your profession, it had to be.

"Are you ready to face that?" your manager looks to you with genuine concern in her eyes as you nod wordlessly. No words had to be said, the day both of you told them that you were dating she already knew every commitment you made to the relationship wasn't half-assed.

Defeated, his manager sighs and flails his hand, "Then go do what you want,"

Chan covers his lips behind his hand but you could almost feel the smile on his face. It was cute as you couldn't help but giddily slot your hands between your thighs along with lips pressed together in a thin line.

"Oh come on! There's no hiding your reactions now, you look like a bunch of schoolgirls!"

"Give them a little bit of a challenge baby, you're making this too easy," you chuckle and roll your eyes before sliding on the mask over your mouth despite Chan's pout and initial protest. "Alright point taken," he quickly concedes and grabs another mask from the glove box, "They'll probably take forever though,"

"It's mid-year, I just hope they don't fucking wait till January 1st to announce something," you sigh before looking at him with creases upturned by the corner of your eyes, "Let's go?"

He nods and you wait by the passenger's seat for him to circle around the car to open your door. He holds his hand out and you slot it through the gaps, intertwining your hands as you get pulled out of the car. He guides you to the streetwalk, hand in hand as both of you try to scan for the tteokbokki place you loved so much.

The owner is nice, an old woman who knows you're dating but doesn't know you're idols—bless her—and she's the reason both of you could go get tteokbokki all lovey-dovey cause she has never tattled so far. You even celebrated your 15th monthsary in this small, kinda run-down shop.

Both of you figured it was a good start to tip off people, after all, you never truly knew who was watching and following.

"Halmonie!" you greet happily while Chan holds the door for you. The only other occupied booth looks your way while the old woman beams and waddles towards you with her walking cane. "Aigoo, aigoo, you're both here! Sit, sit!" she immediately ushers as Chan slots hands with you again before taking a seat at the small stools, your usual booth.

"What shall I get you kids again today? The usual?"

"Sure halmonie, add rose ramyeon for us too please," Chan nods before slipping his mask off. Usually the cap would still obscure his features but all in his curly hair and barefaced glory, you were squealing in delight at how much of a great idea this was. You couldn't help but reach over and pat down a few of Chan's stray curls while he looks at you with utter adoration.

You hum and then sit back down once satisfied, smiling and nodding to yourself before Chan couldn't help but chuckle at your ministrations. "You're cute," he says with a cheek on his palm before you roll your eyes, "No you,"

"Oh?" he raises a brow and before he could retort you could feel something capture the moment. It's always been enhanced the longer you worked in the industry—the feeling of a camera pointing towards you. It was a bit invasive but nonetheless, you send Chan a knowing look before leaning forward, "You think we'd show up on twitter today?"

"Possibly," he whispers back.

"You alright with that? It isn't dispatch,"

"Yeah, but knowing them?" he scoffs and leans back, "They'll get their hands on it in no time,"

You laugh softly and shrug, "Whatever helps them not release it January 1st,"

He looks at you with an amused glint in his gaze, crossing his arms while scanning through your features properly, "You really wanna tell the world ASAP that badly huh,"

"I mean!" you start to defend yourself, a little bit flustered that Chan could read you like an open book, "It'll be fun and all but if they take too long I'm doing it my damn self,"

"4 month cut-off?" he negotiates as you nod, satisfied at the timeline given, "4 months,"

As the night progresses, both of you eat your tteokbokki, fish cakes, ramyeon and kimbap in peace, muddled in either deep or playful discussion.

And unfortunately, you two didn't trend on Twitter that night.

Foregoing masks was one thing, but showing up to the JYP building like you were part of the damn company was another. With your hair tied back, bareface on full display, only your eyes obscured by a black cap, and casual clothes on, it seemed like you were just clocking in on a work day to have a producer's meeting in JYP but fortunately, you were just there to bug your workaholic of a boyfriend.

With a box of vitamins, a takeout bag of soup, and a lunch box, along with a flask filled with water, the security greets you with a smile before handing you a visitor's pass to aid your roaming around the JYP halls. Getting to Chan was mapped out in the frontal terrains of your mind, getting there at record speed while occasionally greeting the staff passing by.

To say that this was a more liberating experience was an understatement.

Usually, Chan would have to schedule your arrival properly so that none of the staff potentially paid off my paparazzi would snitch when they see you but now it was so different because you were going to Channie and he didn't even know it. People look and stare on your way to his studio, sure that it'll definitely get some interns talking but you simply give them polite smiles and curt bows before carrying on.

You finally get to the floor of Chan's studio, humming to yourself before reaching the door and knocking. You press your head slightly to the door, listening for music in case he didn't hear the knock until you see a staff member exit the studio next door. Trying not to mind them, you knock a bit louder, hand heavier on the door before they whip their head at you and furrow their brows.

"Excuse me, are you an intern? You shouldn't be knocking that loudly against Bang Chan-ssi's studio!" she scolds which makes your brows shoot up a bit at the reprimand.

If there was Chan's Room, he'd tell you for sure and you'd already be watching the broadcast. His next formal recording doesn't happen in this studio specifically and last time you recall you've garnered specific rights to interrupt him—girlfriend rights and all.

You couldn't help but sheepishly scoff, "Oh I'm not an intern," you respond, feeling the heat rise up your neck a bit before she starts approaching you with a bit of an annoyed gait to her.

Just in time, Chan opens the door to his studio. "Y/N-ah?!" he greets with ample surprise and thrill in his voice.

"Brought you stuff!" you excitedly hold up the things in your hand as the staff member comes to a halt.

"Chan-ssi, you know this woman?" she questions, accusatory with a finger pointed to you. Chan simply chuckles and gently takes the brim of your cap and slide it off your head with utmost care, "She's my girlfriend Kim-ssi, it's all good," he smiles as she drops her jaw in shock.

In all fairness you DID look like a stalker with the cap on.

"Oh my... I'm terribly sorry," she bows before you laugh and wave your hand to dismiss it, "It's alright. I hope you have a good day," you bid before Chan lets you in the studio. "What do I owe the visit to baby? This is such a surprise!" he beams and gives you a bone crushing hug.

"Well that's the goal!" you giddily hug back, relishing in his warmth and scent. You close your eyes, absolutely enamored by his presence.

"Seems like you needed some boyfriend time, yeah?"

"Nuh-uh, other way around," you jokingly frown and scrunch your brows while pulling away from the hug, "You need girlfriend time," you point at his chest before turning to the food you brought, "And something for your stomach,"

He couldn't help but smile fondly at the array of things laid on his table, "Really, thank you baby, I appreciate it so much,"

"I know," you giggle and reach out for his cheeks, cupping them before pressing a sweet kiss on his lips, slow and relishing, "Now go eat first so that I can kiss you silly,"

"Channie!" you shoot off the couch as he jolts up in shock, taking off his earphones before humming and looking at you with concern-laced eyes. But once he sees the excitement on your face, he smiles and chuckles at the message.

"Well," he huffs in amusement, "Finally some of them decided to move,"

"Wanna go out for a walk?" he suggests.

You hum, entertaining the idea before your eyes flit back to the screen of your computer, the spliced chords only staring back at you in ridicule as you hit a very hard slump.

Without any hint of a lie; the recent Dispatch article did pressure you a bit to work harder on your own group's next comeback because you had to have some sort of fallback from all the backlash you were getting. The hate was still relatively tame, but you knew it was going to double over once the real announcement was made.

So yes, you did want to go out for a walk, but you also wanted to keep your ass planted to your chair. You look to Chan who was patiently waiting for your response, miraculously out of his studio and instead stuck in yours. "I think I'll...pass first Channie I gotta get this down first," you mumble against your frown before facing the equipment once more. "I've been watching you for the past two hours," he sighs and takes both arm rests of the swivel chair, pulling it towards him before gently lifting your chin towards his direction—so that you two were eye to eye.

You found, as the relationship progressed, that both yours and Chan's eyes were so expressive, so vulnerable, and it became a reoccurring habit to just look into them with all intent and you'd find the secrets of the world laid inside. Your world, at east.

"What's bothering you?"

"I..." you hesitate, making you sigh and roll your eyes in self-ridicule, "I guess I'm just bracing myself for the fall, is all," you shrug, "I really wanna do it, I'm just a bit scared that if I don't do good on the next album they'd find another way to dogpile on me once our relationship gets out,"

Chan frowns, moving his hands from your chin to your hands, gently ushering you to stand before he guides your legs up against his' so that you're facing him directly, lips so close you could almost taste the Carmex off it. "I'm not about to tell you that you could call it off because you'd punch me," he jokes a bit before caressing the skin on the lower part of your cheek, "But honey I hope you don't start beating yourself up over this, alright? You aren't alone in this," he reassures, almost begs for you to believe in his words. To believe in him.

And you do. You really, really do.

"You'll always have me by your side. If they dogpile on you then I'll do my best to defend you from that," he presses a slight peck on your lips, "I promise,"

A feeling of warmth radiates in your chest, a small yet genuine smile finally making onto your face. The burden on your shoulder wasn't completely gone and washed off, but the assurance of a safety net, of someone to go home too was definitely helping lighten the load. You wanted to say so much, and none of the words were properly coordinating in your head so instead, you just take his hands and push down.

Your lips slot together, properly this time, while your arms find their way around his neck. You both stay pressed, stay so close while your tongues slip and lock together. The warmth of his lips are heavenly against yours, the velvety feel paired with his slick and delectable tongue—you were hooked.

His hands remain steady on your cheeks, calloused thumb gently running on your jaw before both of you have to break away for air. "Thank you, Channie," you manage to breathlessly state as he chuckles and nods, "Now...for that walk?"

Groaning, you throw your head back in exasperation, his hands now on your back to prevent you from falling out of the cramped chair, "Oh come on," you whine before he chuckles.

"Air would do your brain good baby,"

You gasp in feigned disbelief, "Are you implying my brain isn't functioning?!"

"Exactly," he cheekily smiles, "You wanted to do your best didn't you? Go on a walk with me,"

"Ulterior motives are never gone unnoticed you sly fox," you roll your eyes but ultimately concede and get off the chair, immediately grabbing his jacket which was hanging off from the swivel chair.

"Hey," he scolds with no bite to his tone, an amused smile permanently etched on his face, "That's my jacket,"

"Then freeze," you stick your tongue out, childish and petty before he shakes his head, pulling out the extra hoodie he has brought for yourself and slots his fingers through your's, walking hand in hand as the both of you leave the warm comfort of the studio.

"Y/N-ssi," a voice startles you as you jolt up in shock and see a figure emerge from the shadowy corner of the parking lot. "Who the hell are you," your voice doesn't waver in question, ready to set off the staff-specific alarm that could reach the security headquarters of the company.

"Calm down, miss idol, I'm just a journalist," he raises his hands in surrender as he approaches you, while you take a step back in each step he takes forward. "Stay there," you command. "What do you want?" you speak loudly, the distance between you a bit far but not enough to provide you with peace of mind.

He reaches into his pocket and brings out a few pictures, sliding it towards you making it skid on the floor, landing by your foot as you hesitantly look down not even bothering to pick it up. Your heart races a bit. It was quite the picture, and you aren't sure where the hell it was taken but you knew when. "I suppose you can connect that I know who your speculated male idol "friend" is," he starts to speak as you hold the urge to roll your eyes.

"And what exactly are you going to do with this information?" you challenge, raising a brow at him, "Oh the ususal, make sure all of Korea know that you're dating the one and only Bang Chan," he chuckles, "Imagine the noise that'll make,"

'Bingo,' pops into your head, almost unable to hold back your smile. "Go ahead," you shrug, "Let's see who'll be the villains of their stories," you turn your heel to leave the pictures on the floor, rushing to your car as he stands there very speechlessly, dumbfounded to what just happened.

You had faith in your fans. In STAY. And those who would do otherwise weren't fans of yours, nor of Chan's. It'll all be alright, you keep repeating to yourself.

Right after you get the fuck out of the parking lot. You've got some news to tell Chan.

"What?! Did he hurt you?!" his concerned voice rings through your ears as you sigh and lean your arms against the balcony of your apartment, "I'm fine baby, I promise," you assure him, "In hindsight I knew that was dangerous but I lucked out,"

"Lucked out?! You could've called me! Or anyone!"

"I'm fine now Chan, I promise," you run your fingers through your hair, "Although it seems like our number one concern here is when the news would be released,"

Seemingly taking a moment to recollect his bearings, you patiently wait for his response, "Alright, hit me with it,"

"I think he was about to ask me for money, I told him to go on ahead and release the picture," you nervously gnaw on your lower lip, "Should...should we start telling the company heads?"

"We definitely should baby, this is such crucial information," he says with his "leader voice" as you called it—ever so reliable and ever so stern—"And what's more crucial is the fact that you got into a paparazzi altercation alone,"

"Alright, alright, I'll tell them that too," you groan with slight annoyance. Chan loved to dote on you, was overly protective, and the fact that he had a point wasn't sitting well with you given your already prominent anxieties. "I'm not trying to nag! I'm just concerned over the welfare and safety of my girlfriend is that so much to see to?"

"Of course not," your pitch goes a bit higher, a bit whiny. "Of course not, I know you aren't trying to nag," you reiterate a little bit softly now, not wanting to fight with Chan over this.

It seems to placate him too, "Okay, I'll let it go for now too. What matters is that you're safe," he matches your soft tone, "But for the love of god don't ever do that again,"

"Yes, Christopher, I won't," you promise, no ounce of sarcasm or spite in your tone.

"Are you worried?" he asks. And you take a moment to answer. "Yes..."

"Okay. Okay, I'll be right there after my schedules," he in turn also promises, a sigh of relief escaping you because you were starting to get jittery over everything, "I'll have to go. I'll see you later baby,"

"Bye babe," you bid, "I love you,"

"I love you too, my baby,"

"Something tells me you wanted to do it to terrorize Dispatch," you chuck your phone to the side and smile at Chan who simply shrugs his shoulder with a sly smile, "Maybe they'd hate to have us after all,"

"I highly doubt they'd leave us alone," you crawl up the bed and plop yourself down on top of his body, garnering a grunt from the man. "They never really did, haven't they,"

"More on you, less on me baby," he presses his lips together before looking down at you, "Which in itself, is regrettable,"

"You get used to it," you hum and close your eyes, relishing in the warmth of his bare torso, "Thank you, Chris," you start as he hums and starts running his fingers through your hair. "Whatever for baby?"

"Everything," you simply state, opening your eyes again only to see the most sickening, fondest look from Chan. You could feel yourself getting emotional, heartstrings tugged and torn off your chest as the lump in your throat grow heavier. And suddenly you're crying.

"Y/N?" Chan worriedly sits up and wipes off your tears before pressing you further into his body, head cradled in his hand while he soothingly rubs your shoulder on the other, "What's wrong my love why are you crying?" he panics before you let out a wet chuckle, "I'm sorry, I just got...I dunno," you wipe your tears away with a slight feeling of sheepishness in your veins. "I guess I got too happy, like the anxiety from the past 3 months are just starting to go away," you explain to him as a relieved breath escapes him.

"That's good, isn't it?"

"Very," you look up at him with teary and shiny eyes, hoping that all the love threatening to burst at the seams inside you would translate to how you look. And you have a feeling that it does because he gently raises your jaw towards him and presses a tender kiss on your lips, immediately slipping his tongue for entrance as you gladly let him in.

It's short, curt, yet continuous kisses. Departing every half a second only to dive back down, deliciously loving and sweet as both of your breathings fall in sync against the silence of his room, orange and yellow hues from his lights dancing around dimly. It wasn't as magical, but it was comforting, and it was home.

"I love you so much Y/N," he proclaims in a whisper against your lips, like a secret vow as you hum and give him another short peck. "I love you most, Christopher,"

"Nuh-uh,"

"Fuck you mean nuh-uh," you laugh before leaning your head against his shoulder, a sigh of relief and decompression punched out of you. "Comeback season would be so different now,"

"Mhm," he keeps his gentle touches on your shoulder going, rubbing lightly, "The questions about you that I'd love to answer," he grins to himself making you giggle like a giddy school girl.

You both knew there were more of the invasive and inappropriate questions but hey, being an idol is fun when the people around you aren't assholes. Just like a normal 9 to 5.

"Oh the birthday stories I've been waiting to post," you tease, holding up his stash of less flattering pictures over his head as he rolls his eyes, "Oh two can play,"

"I'm photogenic I slay every angle," you retort. "You didn't date me for nothing,"

"Ah boo," he lazily responds before turning to you, "By the way, what if like, magazine outlets start to contact us?"

"Maybe let's wait another year to do activities together," you suggest, "More suspenseful that way,"

"True,"

You prop your hand up his chest and lay on your stomach, facing him, "But If you had to choose which outlet, what would it be?"

"The Korea Herald," he replies before you snort out a laugh, "I guess the Chan is 5 years older, here's what it does to their relationship articles aren't wrong,"

Looking at you scandalized he pinches your side making you let out a yelp. "I'm not that old! I'm just saying it's more reliable than Dispatch!"

"Sure old man," you roll your eyes at him, "I'd wanna do one with Bazaar,"

"With the photoshoot and everything?"

"Hey it isn't so bad to shoot high for power couple status,"

"Are you implying we aren't a power couple now?"

The cameras flash against your eyes as you flinch a bit, about to put a hand over your eyes but Chan beats you to it, one hand over your shades and another on the brim of his cap. The reporters are shouting their questions at you, a little bit overwhelming and deafening but sure as hell your guards are letting them get a little too close.

"Suyin-ah! Does it bother you that Bang Chan is 5 years older?"

"Suyin-ah, if you've been dating for long aren't you guys tired?"

"Bang Chan-ah, out of all the pretty girls in your company why go for LLCE?"

"Bang Chan! Was Baby written for Suyin-ah?"

All invasive, nothing ever good. A grunt escapes you as Chan holds you closer looking down at you in concern while the guards try to make way for the both of you, "You alright there?"

"Never been better," you grimace with sarcasm before hearing a question that piques your interest, partly moving away from Chan to seek out the person who threw that question. "Suyin-ah, don't you think dating as a K-Pop idol is hopeless?"

You reach out, one of the security personnel doing you a favor to hand you the small mic of the journalist before pressing it near to your face, "I don't think so. Because at the end of the day Chan and I love our fans just the same, sharing our personal lives won't change that," you reason out, "Both of us would still continue to make music for our fans and cherish them all," you answer, short and profound before you could hear Chan's voice call out to you, finally able to form a path towards your building.

"Honey! Are you coming?" he shouts through the shouting crowds of reporters. You immediately step back, hurriedly heading to his direction, slipping your hands together before walking into the company hand in hand.

"What'd you say?" he questions once the glass doors close. You strip off your mask and beam up at him cheekily, "You'll see,"

i took the liberty of giving Y/N a stage name for the sake of making the tweets a bit more comprehensive. Suyin is derived from S/N, which is stage name. i just added a few more letters to it.

#skz #skz scenarios #skz bang chan #stray kids #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #idol!reader #bang chan x you #bang chan imagines #stray kids imagines #christopher bang #chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #skz smau #stray kids smau

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w2soneshots · 1 month

Note

Hey there can you please do something like y/n (also a YouTuber and she’s a very nice a sweet girl )y/n and Harry r dating and living together and Harry is doing one of those videos he does with Stephen,Chris and Will and maybe it’s just like she’s kind of in the background and cute little moments of her being in the video.

Lockdown -W2S

Words: 0.6k+

Warnings: none.

In which you and Harry spend an average day in lockdown together.

a/n: thank you so much for your request my love! I hope I did it justice💝🫶🏼

y/username

Liked by tobjizzle and 349,120 others

y/username: good morning🌅 @wroetoshaw

-comments-

freyanightingale: morning beautiful💞

-> y/username: 🫶

y/nfanpage21: you're both practically matching🥺

user81910592: what's Harry filming??

I've been with Harry for around a year. We got together just before January 2020, and when covid hit Harry asked if I'd move into his apartment with him. We spent all of the first lockdown together and became even closer, due to spending every day practicing trapped in his room. When September rolled around constrictions were being lifted but we were still spending a lot of time inside.

Harry, Chris, Will and Stephen have recently started doing group videos on YouTube. I've been in the background of lots of them but usually go into the living room (when Cal isn't doing something in there) and watch tv. Today they're filming "Ranking the top 10 YouTube videos of all time".

"I'm gonna start filming in a sec, are you gonna stay?" Harry asked, his keyboard clicking. "Mhm," I hummed "I'm just gonna put my AirPods in." I said. "Ok." He glanced at me with a smile. "Alright boys!" He said loudly to the computer, a few minutes later. After around ten minutes Harry said my name "y/n?" "Yea?" I said pushing myself up from the mattress to lean on my elbows. "Can you quickly react to this," he pointed to the screen "for the video?" He asked. I nodded "sure." I got up from the bed and Harry moved his chair back so I could sit on his lap. "Here." He said passing me his headset. I put it on and immediately the boys said hello.

I reacted to the video with a loud laugh as I leaned back into Harry. Then I said a quick goodbye and passed the headphones back to Harry. I sat back down on the bed while Harry finished the video, which seemed to be taking a lifetime.

Once he was finally done he plopped down on the bed. I took my earphones out and smiled at him. He smiled back "I'm gonna get in the shower, wanna join?" I raised my eyebrows then giggled "yes, yes I do." I said and we both got up off the bed. As we stepped into his bathroom we stripped our clothes off.

After we finished "showering" we dried ourselves off, got changed and headed into the kitchen to get some dinner. "You alright there Cal?" I asked the man stood looking at the oven with a confused look on his face. He looked toward both me and Harry "uh- yea, I just can't figure out how to turn this on." He said. I laughed "you've been in this apartment for over a year and you still can't turn the oven on?" "I haven't needed to use it, we've got an air fryer ya know!" He exclaimed. Harry chuckled "just press," he stepped forward to point to one of the buttons "that one mate." He said. Freezy nodded "oh, thanks."

Cal took his food to his room and me and Harry began making some simple, quick spaghetti bolognaise. "Mmm, this is just what I needed." I said taking another bite of the pasta. "Yea, this is bangin." He said with a quiet hum of satisfaction.

We cleaned up and headed back to Harry's room. We sat on the bed and Harry began scrolling through his phone while I tried to decide what movie I wanted to watch on his large tv. Harry hates anything that isn't a documentary or based on a true story, he thinks it's pointless watching fiction because you don't actually learn anything. Which I understand so usually while I watch something Harry will sit with me, but doesn't actually pay any attention.

I lay with my head leaning comfortably on Harry's chest, our legs slightly intertwined and his arm wrapped tightly around me. Just before the movie finished I drifted off into a deep sleep, lulled by the sound of Harry's heartbeat and the calming sound of his breathing.

#sidemen #fanfic #image #oneshot #w2s #harry lewis #harry w2s #w2s imagine #w2s x reader #wrotoshaw #wroetoshaw x reader #wroetoshaw oneshot #wroetoshaw #harry lewis x reader #calfreezy #instagram #lockdown #coronavirus

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fadingdaggerr · 5 months

Text

would that i

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: melissa knew what love should look like, and learned what it shouldn’t be. learning what it actually is takes time | 3.4k

translations: nonna/nonno (grandma/grandpa), t’amu (i love you) | reminder that sicilian is slightly different from italian in dialect

warnings: allusions to cheating (minimal), allusions to unhealthy relationships (minimal), making up my own melissa lore bc i’m so normal about her, kissing/making out

note: a little bit of this was an homage to my grandparents, the people that showed me what love should be. thank u and love u

When Melissa was in sixth grade, her teacher assigned a two-page essay on what they thought of when they pictured love. The moment Mrs. Erikson said this, Melissa knew she was going to write about her Nonna and Nonno.

Every morning, Nonna made breakfast and coffee, she packed Nonno’s lunch, and always left a note that said T’amu in her flowy cursive. Every evening, Nonno brought in the laundry off the line and folded it while Nonna made dinner. Even when they fought, there was never a loss of their kiss good morning, goodbye, and good night. Only on anniversaries was Nonno allowed in the kitchen, and they’d dance while sauce simmered on the stovetop. Love between them seemed easy and gentle. Melissa spent every Saturday night and Sunday morning across the street at their house, and every time she found something to add to her list of what love looked like and how it should be.

Melissa thought she had found love with Tommy Adkins in eighth grade. She’d even bought a new dress to wear to autumn formal, pink and ruffled and perfect. By the time she was ready to leave, her face almost hurt from the amount of times she redid her makeup so that Tommy would call her beautiful instead of bangin’ for once. That night she watched him dance with Jennifer Milano with a half-baked excuse of him “not wanting to kiss a chick with braces.” Melissa cried for two hours while Nonna told her she was better off, a bowl of pastina pushed her way. She forgot about him by the time Monday rolled around.

High school boyfriends came and went, but in college Melissa fell in love for the first time. A true, deep love with a firefighter-in-training that knew her neighbor. Everytime Joe visited Brian, he stopped across the hall to see Melissa, leaned against the doorway with an easy smile. He was charming, respectful, and funny, everything she had been looking for. Two months after she graduated, he dropped to one knee and she jumped into his arms. They moved from their apartment to a home in south Philly. Melissa worked during the day, and Joe started night shifts at the fire station for the extra pay.

Night shifts began to extend, and Melissa never saw him. He’d eat the plate she’d prepared in the fridge and leave the dirty dish on the counter. Dirt and ash from his boots tracked across her rugs and carpets, scuff marks in her living room. What almost killed her was the dirty cast iron skillet left in the sink. When she brought anything up, he’d deflect and leave. Every now and then, he came home with flowers “just because.” But then flowers began to follow every extra long night, and she could smell the floral perfume that didn’t belong to her and didn’t match the flowers. It took her months to say anything, and all she was met with was eyes that couldn’t look at hers.

Melissa began to think that what her grandparents had could never be hers. A loving life was in the cards, and Joe had only solidified this. She stayed at Barbara’s that night.

—

A few years later, her perspective was changed when a new fourth grade teacher joined the staff mid-term. Never in her years had she allowed someone in so easily, allowed them to be her friend and not just a coworker. Somehow, in two years, Melissa realized she’d never felt so cared for and loved by anyone.

—

“Is there a chance I could pour a cup of coffee before you start bursting my ear drums?” Melissa says when Jacob and Janine start babbling behind her about something she didn’t care about at 7:30 on a Friday morning. Ever since she turned onto the street the school is on, a headache had been growing steadily. Staying up late to finish grading was the worst idea she’s had all month. The two teachers cringe slightly, lowering their volume. When the door opened again for you and Barbara to enter chatting with each other, volume lowering at the sight of Melissa sat at the table with fingers pressed to her temples. She hears a bag drop on the table quietly, opening one eye to see you trying to be as quiet as possible as you dig around.

When you finally stop, you pull out a bottle of ibuprofen and pass it to her. She waves it off, muttering a don’t need it. When you don’t reply, she peers up to see you still holding the bottle out with an expectant look on your face. You shake the bottle, “don’t suffer just to look tough.”

“Melissa Ann, take the damn pills,” Barbara orders from her seat, spooning some sugar into her coffee.

“I don’t need ‘em,” she mumbles out again.

You push your hand forward more, “please. If not for yourself, for your students. You’re irritable when you have a headache.” Barbara chuckles and sends a knowing look to Melissa. Janine and Jacob, on the other hand, turn and look at you, fully expecting the red head to make some harsh reply or threat back to you. All she does is puff out a laugh and grab the bottle from your hands. She decided not to remark on the weird looks she was getting from the peanut gallery.

When getting the kids ready for recess, she sees you peering around the corner to the doorway. She holds a finger to ask you to wait, and gets a double thumbs up in return. After zipping many jackets and helping with gloves, she watches the little eagles run outside in the chilly autumn air. As she walks back into her classroom, she sees you sitting in her chair waiting patiently for her. “You know, I don’t let anyone sit in my seat,” she jokes as approaches.

“Good thing I’m not just anyone, now am I?” you joke, standing to meet her.

She fights her smile as she answers quietly, “no, you’re not.” She takes a second to breathe when she sees a grin cross your lips at her comment, “we still on for dinner at mine tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” the grin on your face growing, the giddy feeling in Melissa’s chest with it. You loop your arm with hers and walk towards the lounge.

When Melissa opens the front door, you expect a greeting, but instead you get a groan as she stomps back to the kitchen. Dropping your bag and shrugging off your coat, you walk into the kitchen, placing the box of pastries on the table. Melissa returns to angrily rummaging through the refrigerator, desperately trying to find something. It wasn’t until two hands pulled her back by the shoulders, turning her around. She relaxes into your touch, closing her eyes.

“I’m out of basil,” she says through a sigh.

“Want me to go to the store?” you ask, wanting to remove any stress from her.

“No,” Melissa answers as she opens her eyes, “you just got here, that wouldn’t be fair.”

You laugh, “we could go together. Or we can just be lazy, order a pizza, and not get off the couch.”

“Second one,” she sighs out, pulling away to clean up the dishes she took out. While she’s distracted, you take the time to call in the order, pay, and tip over the phone so that Melissa won’t even have the chance to say herself.

“If there’s pineapple on there, I’m kicking you out,” she yells from the kitchen after she hears you hang up.

“No, veggie. And yes, I asked for no mushrooms. One of these days though, I’ll convert you to being a pineapple woman,” you joke tilting your head back to see her standing behind you, “plus, you wouldn’t dare kick out the person who brought you zeppole.”

She gets closer, leaning over with her hands holding the backrest on either side of your head, “is there chocolate sauce?” The excitement was evident in her tone, bringing butterflies to your stomach. You can’t form words with her standing over you and smiling like that, so you just nod.

Later into the night, the TV played Weeds while you sat in comfortable silence, only breaking it when you both repeated the same joke out loud every now and then. Your legs were thrown over her lap, her fingers playing with the folding fabric of your jeans as she watched the screen. Her subconscious drew her attention toward you, eyes tracing over smile lines and the glowing reflection in your eyes from the TV. She watches you lean forward to grab a zeppole, ready to offer it to her. It’s only then that you catch her stare.

“You okay?” you ask, turning and scooting closer to give her your full attention.

She gives a quick squeeze to your leg, “yeah, hon. I’m better than okay.” She feels even better when you lean into her, placing your head on her shoulder. She drops her head to yours, a deep breath leaving her as she finally relaxes fully for the first time all day.

—

Some time between then and now, things had changed, Melissa wasn’t exactly sure when. At some point the Friday dinners turned into Saturday plans, then Sunday since the farmer’s market was open, no other reason. Breakfast on those days translated to bringing coffee to each other at work, ignoring the questioning gazes of other staff members as she passed you your coffee, despite having never asked how you took it. What had started with you sleeping on the couch when the night grew later, migrated to the spare bedroom.

On a Sunday night, it changed again. You watched the tail end of an Eagles’ game while sitting in her bed after helping grade book reports. As always, your head rested on her shoulder with her own resting on yours. Anytime something that wasn’t a point being scored happened, she explained it to you, though she knew not a thing she said would help make sense of it. It didn’t matter to you, all you wanted was to hear her voice and have her attention.

“Your bed is comfy,” you mutter when the commercials begin before the last quarter.

A smile crosses her lips, “treated myself to a good mattress when I kicked bozo out. Glad you approve.”

“You deserve nice things,” you say as you settle into her more, and through a yawn add, “the best things.”

That night, you’d both fallen asleep slumped against the headboard, leaning into each other for comfort.

Melissa woke up to a rhythmic thumping under her ear and a hand in her hair gently playing with amber waves. The small smile that came to her lips would have been foreign to her if she wasn’t so comfortable, the content feeling in her chest would be almost alarming. When her eyes cracked open, she recognized her bedroom and sheets. She groaned into the cold morning air, and the hand moved from twirling the ends of her hair to scratching her scalp, making her tuck into the warmth beneath her even more.

“Good morning,” you rasp out, having only been awake a little longer, the only response being another groan. She finally rolls off of you, much to your dismay, and sits up on her elbows, looking at you with sleepy, squinted eyes.

“It’s Monday,” she grumbles.

You chuckle, grabbing her glasses off the nightstand for her, “fine, just morning then.”

Something about this morning felt different to Melissa. You’d never spent the night on a school night, let alone sleep in her bed, but that wasn’t what shook her. It wasn’t you making her coffee, sipping it to make sure it tasted right before handing it to her. It also wasn’t that you turned off her alarm and woke her up yourself without making her ears bleed. She thought it could be that you’d opened the door for her on the way out, or how you offered to drive her to and from work to make up for staying late, but not that either.

Maybe it was how she didn’t want to get out of bed, or how her coffee tasted better than any time she’d made it herself. Or how she hadn’t slept that peacefully in twenty years. It could have been how much she enjoyed being driven to work, and having full control of the songs you listened to on the way there, or the fact that she sped ahead to open a door for you this time. She doesn't have time to dwell on it once she gets to her classroom, a knock on the doorframe comes the second to place her purse on the desk.

“I thought you weren’t in today, I didn’t see your car in the parking lot,” Barbara says as she walks in.

Without looking up from her bag as she pulls out folders, Melissa answers, “I got a ride in.”

“Did you now?” Barbara asks with an amused tone. “And would that someone happen to be the fourth grade teacher that practically lives with you?”

“We don’t live together,” Melissa says incredulously, “we just fell asleep, so we drove in together. It’s not a big deal, it’s not like we’re actually together.”

Barbara can’t hide her laugh, “you fell asleep? Both of you? And where was that?” Melissa only mumbles back, so Barbara presses, “where did you both sleep, Melissa?”

“My bed,” Melissa finally says a little louder, but not much. She wants to send her head through a wall knowing that Barb just figured her out.

“Oh, girl. You are in deep,” Barbara says with a smirk. After she leaves the room, the spiral in Melissa’s head goes faster.

Said spiral carries her through lunch, and only stops when you sit across from her and stare at her for a moment. Her face contorts in a what? look before you reach across the table and brush your fingers through her hair. When you pull back, there’s a purple string from the third graders’ projects between your fingers. Barbara kicks her from under the table, and she kicks back with equal force. They both see you look at them weird, before brushing it off and going back to getting your lunch out. Barbara cocks her head to you, staring at the red head, silently telling her to do something. The look the kindergarten teacher gets back replies not now.

When the end of the day rolls around, Melissa is anxious for your eventual arrival in her doorway, keys swinging around your pointer finger. All she could think about since you parted ways this morning was your hands in her hair and your heartbeat under her ear. She hadn’t felt so content and so at peace in so long, the feeling was so new that it almost scared her. Melissa had to remind herself that this was about you, not anyone else. You’d never hurt, belittled, or offended Melissa, you’d never made it your mission to anger or disregard her, nor had you ever tried putting yourself before her. She knew that feeling this way about you shouldn’t scare her, but it did.

The sound of keys and footsteps in the hallways alerted her to your approaching presence, making Melissa quickly rise to her feet and grab her things, realizing she’d been spaced out since the last student left. As she predicted, you stood there spinning your keys, smile growing when she turned toward you. It drops slightly when you see her smile not reach her eyes. “Ready?” you ask.

“Sure, yeah,” she clears her throat, “let’s go.”

You can tell her mind is running into overdrive as you pull onto her street. When you park in the driveway, you unbuckle to turn in your seat and face her.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

She turns to you with a scrunched face, “what are you, 90?”

You shrug and point to her sleeves, “you’re thinking. You play with the thumb holes when you think.” She’d curse you for noticing if it didn’t make her heart clench. “You don’t have to tell me,” you add, “but I’ll listen, if you want.”

She looks at you for a moment, surrendering with a, “wanna come in?” You only answer by taking your keys out of the transmission, hopping out, and opening the door for her.

The discussion gets put on hold while Melissa heats up leftovers from the night before. She carries both bowls out to the living room where you’re turning on the TV back on for background noise. As Melissa sits down, she faces toward you and you mirror her pose. “Sorry I was acting weird,” she mumbles before taking a bite.

You shake your head, “you’re only allowed to apologize when you’ve done something wrong. Thinking isn’t doing something wrong.” When she doesn’t speak again, you offer up something else, “Ava almost had a heart attack over you this morning.”

She looks at you confused, “were we wearing the same shade of green again?”

“No. She thought you didn’t come to work this morning cause your car wasn’t there, was going off about how she was going to have to sub because there’s still a shortage in the area,” you laugh, “I had to tell her I drove you in, which also ended me in a twenty minute interrogation during my prep period.”

“What sort of interrogation?” she asked, already nervous.

You look down the bowl in your lap as you speak, poking the food around, “the kind where she asks for a detailed account of my whole weekend. Weird amounts of detail too, mealtimes, where I slept, where we went, what shows we watched.”

“What’d you tell her?” Melissa can feel fear creeping into her bones.

“That we went to the farmer’s market, watched sitcoms, and I slept in the guest room,” you answer truthfully, “and what did you say to Barbara?” Her head snaps to you, you lean your head to the side, “she stopped by to ask me about my weekend, she seemed a little too excited to see me if you hadn’t spoken to her first.”

Melissa moves to place her bowl on the coffee table before looking back to you, “she asked why we drove in together. I said we fell asleep, and she asked where we fell asleep. Might’ve told her you slept in my bed.”

“It’s impossible to lie to her,” you say as you copy her move. You’re silent for a moment, then finally ask, “what were you thinking about?”

She takes in a deep breath and exhales to calm her nerves, “this morning. This whole weekend, but mostly this morning.” She glances up, and sees your face had dropped, worry setting in, and she’s quick to revise her statement, “in a good way. This morning, this weekend, they meant a lot to me.”

At her words, your lips stretch into a smile, “it meant a lot to me, too.” She can see you internally question saying the next part, “and you. you mean a lot to me, a crazy amount.”

It’s her turn to smile like an idiot now, a pretty blush covering her cheeks, “you mean a crazy amount to me, too. Being around you it’s... It’s easy. I like being with you.”

“I do, too. Sometimes, when I’m here I almost forget I live somewhere else. The second I step inside and I’m with you, I don’t know, leaving just feels wrong,” you say honestly, eyes flickering over her face as you speak, scanning for a rejection you won’t find.

“Waking up to you was nice,” Melissa mumbles, “you’re a pretty good pillow, if I do say so myself.”

Your airy laugh makes her heart race, it goes even faster when you lean in to reply, “I wouldn’t mind waking up that way again... and again, and again.”

She matches you lean in, smiling, “yeah?” Your noses are almost touching, she can feel your breath just barely touching her face. Her eyes flick to yours and see you looking back, faint lines forming as your lips turned upward as her gaze.

“Being with you makes sense,” you say quietly into the space between you, eyes flicking to her lips then back up.

Her hand moves up to your cheek, warm hands and cool rings holding with gentle affection. Olive eyes look into yours for permission, but your answer is closing the space between you. Her other hand flies to hold your neck, your hands holding her wrists. They slide from her arms to her waist, pulling her closer and crawling beneath her shirt to rest on her skin. She takes the chance to straddle your lap as her tongue slides over your bottom lip, asking for the instantly granted entry. Her lips were soft, savoring the feeling of yours against hers, committing it to memory.

Your arms tighten around her, holding her as if she’s this precious thing, and it makes her only give more into you. Her lips slow, and you can almost feel the love she’s trying to convey in her action. But your lungs can only survive so long, and she pulls her lips away, resting her forehead against yours.

“Stay?” she whispers through her breaths as she recovers.

“Wasn’t planning on leaving,” you mumble back, dazed from her kiss. You duck foreward, hugging her as she still sits in your lap. Her arms circle your shoulders, hearing you mumble into her neck, “I love you.”

She presses a kiss to your head, “I love you.”

Melissa’s heart beat against your ear, calm and steady. The smell of her perfume and honey shampoo flooded your senses, making you nudge into her further. You tilted your head, lips pressing softly to the skin of her neck, moving upwards back to her lips, pressing a long, sound kiss there. You pull away to look at her, smoothing back copper strands.

“Is it too early to go lay in bed for the rest of the night?” you ask quietly.

She huffs a laugh, “I was gonna suggest the same thing.”

By the fifth episode of Weeds, Melissa noticed your breathing even out. She peered down at you where you lay curled into her side with your head on her chest, arm slung over her middle, lips slightly parted. She presses a kiss to your head as she shuts the TV off, and lays there to just bask in you being with her. She’d never felt so adored, so cared for, so at ease. This is was it was supposed to be.

feedback appreciated as always <3

title from would that i by hozier (i’m sure everyone knew that. we’re all gay here)

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #lgbtq #lgbtq fanfiction #lesbian

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