#and a big neon reminder that I am NOT an authority

[queers-gambit]

Opening Night and Open Hearts

prompt: opening night - a mother's fear, a locked walk-in freezer, confessions through a thick metal door, questioning what's deserved, and a proposal at The Bear after hours.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 9.8k+

note: i think i give enough background for you guys to feel as if you don't need to read any other relating works, but i linked the fics that could be read as a small series (maybe?) also let author be lonely in peace

warnings: reader nicknamed Peach, established relationship, cursing, spoilers, fluff, angst, relationship angst, hurt and comfort, Carmy still (desperately) needs a nap, depiction of physical illness, boys are dumb and emotions are hard, reader-insert, depiction of toxic family, OC Carmy that grovels a lot, not edited!

⚠️ season two, episode ten spoilers

not necessary to read, but other relating works with Peach:

Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant

God's Plan part two: Two to Tango

Neon Sticky Notes

"Hi, yes, I can hear you - sorry about that, I was just making note of your reservation," you spoke smoothly into the phone, trying not to ogle your boyfriend wrapped in only a clean blue towel. "So, that's a party of four for Monsieur Claude Badeaux - all right, that's so lovely. I'm obligated to remind everyone that tonight's opening is a fine dining experience and the proper, corresponding dress code is being asked for. Are there any allergies I should make note of for your party?"

"Jean Paul has a tree nut allergy," you were told.

"All right, that's noted and highlighted: Jean Paul has a tree nut allergy. If there's anything else I could help you with?"

"Non," he chuckled. "I was surprised to see your invitation to this evening, though, mon cher. It's been so long, yes?"

"Well, it was my pleasure to extend the offer, we're ecstatic by your reservation," you chuckled. "We'll see you tonight, Monsieur, and should you need anything before then, you may call this number again."

You said your parting words in French, smiling at Carmy when you hung up and dropped your work phone. "Did I hear that correct?" Your lover asked with a broad grin, "Was that...?"

"Senior marketing advisor at The Washington Post?" You filled in for him. "Uh, yeah, I think it was, but you know me - I could be wrong."

"You invited someone from The Washington Post to the opening tonight?"

"Is that okay?" You asked, standing from the bed after making note in your datebook. "You look kinda - I don't know, shocked?"

"I-I am," he blinked at you, watching you gather his pristine clothing to hang on the closet door. "But in a good way - I can't believe you did this," he chuckled, wiping his mouth. "I mean - holy shit, Peaches."

You offered a toothy grin, "Figured I could pull a few of my own strings to help get the word out about your love-child."

This made Carmy snicker, "Hey, now. Tonight's important, don't make fun."

"I know," you nodded, leading him back into the bathroom to view your hair products. "Which is why I invited some important people and some not-so important people. I know this is serious, Carmy," you smiled at him, hoping to convey your support, "and I wanted to help in whatever way I could."

"You being there tonight is more than I could ask for," he chuckled, helping you onto the small bathroom counter. You squirted a bit of hair product in your hand, watching him flinch back a little, "Uh, I just don't want my hair greasy, Peach, you know? Not a good look and I'll sweat it out in the kitchen."

"I feel like I should be offended by you having no trust in me," you teased, insisting, "I know whatcha need, baby, lemme help."

Carmy smiled softly and held still, letting you run your hands through his curls to push everything back and away from his forehead in a stylish but manageable "do". There was a silent, serene moment as you and Carmy just existed together in a mundane space, his big, sad eyes watching your face as you worked. He wondered, "Think tonight's gonna be okay?"

"I think tonight's gonna be more than okay," you assured softly. "I think tonight's gonna go better than you're anticipating."

He sighed and planted his hands on either side of you, suddenly dropping his gaze. "I, uh... Sugar invited Mom t'tonight..."

"Yeah, I know."

"You know?"

"Sugar and I are still friends outside of us dating, Carmy," you smiled patiently, slowing your hands so you more toyed with his curls; pushing some strands behind his ears. "She needs someone as much as you do and I don't mind."

"But isn't that what Pete's for?"

"Yes, but you know, Pete's Pete."

Carmy snorted, "Yeah, yeah, good point."

"I don't know if she'll show up tonight, Bear, but whether she does or doesn't, it won't matter - you're not doing this for her. This is for you, Carmy, tonight's about The Bear opening - it's about you and this incredible, amazing thing you've done. Okay?" You caressed both his cheeks in your hands so he could only look at you directly. "If she shows, that's great," you whispered with a soft smile as your thumbs swept the apples of his cheeks, "and if she doesn't, it won't make tonight any less special. That, I can promise."

Carmy's forehead met yours, both pausing to breathe together; peace always a fleeting feeling as of late and being something you both capitalized on. You brought him in closer for an embrace, his face burying in your neck as your arms snaked around his to keep him as close as possible. His arms were tight around your waist, legs spread to accommodate him; both needing the feel of being close before that night's inevitable stressful event.

"Wow, well, don't you look all pretty! Wow, Peach," Pete greeted you when you scurried to the table with your friend in tow. "Oh, hi there!"

"Pete, this is my best friend, Danielle, and Dani, this is Pete, Sugar's husband."

"Hi, it's really nice to meet you," your friend greeted, the two instantly chattering as they both just blew past their introductions to instantly compliment one another's clothes. You smirked, knowing they'd get along famously, and looked around the brand new, packed restaurant.

"Hey, there she is, my pretty girl," Richie greeted smoothly, approaching your standing form to slide his hand around your shoulders.

"Hi, Cousin," you beamed, offering him a hug in greeting. "The place looks fantastic - it's so - I mean - just wow, Richie," you complimented. "You guys did such an amazing job. I need to tell Fak, too, this is - you guys should be so proud, it looks incredible. Hardly can believe what it was before this."

"It really is something, huh?" He grinned. "Hey, Pete," he nodded.

"Hey, Richie."

"And you must be the famous, the fabulous Miss Danielle?"

"That's me," your friend grinned. "You're Richie, right? Carmy's cousin who's not really a cousin but is as good as blood?"

"Yes, ma'am, the very same," he nodded with pride. "We've some drinks coming your way in just a moment, but I need to borrow Peach for just one second."

"Why do they call her Peach?" Dani asked, but Richie was leading you away as Pete was heard answering,

"Oh, because she mastered this peach cobbler with Carmy's mom, Donna, and she started the nickname..."

"What's wrong?" You asked softly with a smile as to not give the illusion to others that you were worried. "What can I do to help?"

"No, no, nothing too bad, you were just requested by the Frenchie-French guy."

"Oh, right, that's right, yeah, I can help with that," you sighed gently, smiling as you approached the table. Greeting the two men and women was easy, Richie impressed by your connections in the professional world. Tonight, The Washington Post didn't just dine with them - no, it was also the director of social media for three luxury, designer brands: Jean-Paul.

Yes, the man was so elusive that he just went by Jean-Paul. Fuck a last name!

Either way, it impressed Richie to hear the introductions. The two women were executives in their own companies, names Richie didn't catch because he was busy taking note of the way Mr. Frenchie-French was basically eye fucking you in front of them all.

"Well," Richie smiled stiffly, "tonight's incredibly special for us. In fact, uh, Y/N's boyfriend is the owner and head chef."

"Really?" Frenchie-French perked his brows, shifting his gaze over to you. "You always had a soft spots for chefs, non? For those who were versed in the culinary arts?"

"Well, mostly I appreciated a man in the kitchen simply because I burn water and would probably unintentionally starve myself," you teased easily, deflecting the man's subtle dig. "I'm actually here with family tonight, so, please, ladies and gentlemen, enjoy tonight - I know I'm biased when I say the food is exceptional, but I look forward to your own opinions."

"We will talk later, mon cher, I am sure there will be plenty to discuss," the Frenchman promised, kissing the back of your hand as you let Richie lead you away by your free hand.

You released a long sigh, muttering, "Bring them a bottle of real champagne, please, Richie, I had a few bottles imported just for them. Listen closely," you lowered your voice as you both paused on the side of the dining room, "bring them a bowl of thin sliced strawberries sprinkled in sugar and pop the cork at their table - it's impressive for whatever reason."

Richie pecked your temple and gave you a tight squeeze, "I got it all covered, girly. You all right? Look like you're gonna be sick?"

"Just men being men grosses me out, I guess," you sighed with a small shrug. "He's always had a thing for me, I figured I'd use that to get him here tonight - Carmy's work speaks for itself, but maybe he'd be inclined to publish an article or two for us if I play nice."

Richie paused you a few feet from your table, complimenting, "I hope Carmy knows he doesn't deserve you, Peach."

"You said years ago neither of us did," you smirked gently. "Said I wasn't relationship material, right? Remember?"

"I was wrong," he nodded. "I even said y'all would never be serious, but..." He scoffed to himself, "I've never seen that boy so crazy about anyone in his life. You've really changed him, Peach. I don't really know how to thank you."

"You can start by buttering up those flirty Frenchmen," you teased, giving his cheek a peck.

"On it," he winked, parting from your side.

Inside the kitchen some twenty minutes later, Richie approached Carmy, directing his attention, "Cousin?"

"Yo."

"Peach is on 17 with Pete."

"Okay."

"Go say hi."

"Yeah, eventually," Carmy nodded absently, never halting his work.

"Eventually?" Richie repeated with distain, something in his stomach twisting.

"Where the fuck is Josh!?" Carmy called into the kitchen, another chef echoing his concerns.

"Yo!" Richie barked as calmly as he could, "Just go say hi to your girl, Cousin."

"Yo, I'll go when I have a minute," Carmy deflected strongly. "I'm in the fuckin' shit, leave me the fuck alone."

"What? I'm saying - "

"I'll get there when I can get there!"

"I'm saying!"

"What?" Carmy barked.

"She's got important fucking people in that dining room, man," Richie scoffed, hands held up in defense. "Just for your ungrateful ass! Maybe the least you can do is go say fuckin' hi - even if you're fuckin' busy. She knows that, it'd be a nice gesture - or whatever fuckin' shit - I don't know! She's your girl!"

"Yeah! Exactly!" Carmy barked. "She's my fuckin' girl, she knows the fuckin' drill, I'll go say fuckin' hi when I get the fuckin' chance, Richie! Fuck's sake! Always tryna meddle and shit!"

"Jesus, fuck," Richie sighed, turning out of the kitchen with his hands waving Carmy off in defeat.

You were none the wiser, entertained by Pete and Dani's gabbing as Sugar was in-and-out, dealing with all the little things going wrong. These little things came to her in the form of notes left at the table subtly for her to go solve, you wanting to help but being shot down every time. Eventually, Carmy was approaching your table with a tray of food, shocking you slightly.

"Hey, Peach," He greeted softly, lowering the tray to balance on the table and lean over to kiss your cheek. "You look gorgeous, baby, wow," he complimented in a whisper, offering another quick kiss.

"Thank you, Chef," you smiled brightly, touching his forearm in a sign of affection. "What's all this you've got for us?"

He hummed and explained what he set on the table in front of you guys; eyes alight and cheeks flushed from the heat of the kitchen. He poured whatever sauce came with the main dish, smiling at Dani, nodding to Pete, then looking to you.

"I'll check on you later, all right, baby?" He mumbled, watching you nod. "I gotta get back," he whispered, "but thank you for being here, my pretty girl."

"No where else I'd rather be, Cream," you rushed, letting his lips find yours briefly.

"Stick around after, would you? When we close, just... Don't leave yet."

"Yes, Chef," you whispered against his lips with a grin. He gave one single more kiss before pulling away to stand upright.

"Enjoy," he bid the table before walking away.

"So, like," Dani trailed after making sure Carmy was out of earshot, "when's the wedding? 'Cause that might've been the cutest thing I've seen. I mean, opening night, he's cooking, but paused to come serve us? Serve you? And he's so soft with you, kissin' you, bein' all cute," she pouted dramatically. "I want a reason to wear a maid of honor dress, please."

"Hey, hey, chill on us. There's no wedding," you sighed with a small laugh, trying to play off how the subject made your stomach twist. "We haven't really talked about it, you know? No biggie."

"What?" She sputtered. "Wait, hang on. Y'all have been together - like - a stupid, ridiculous amount of time. The fuck you mean you haven't talked about it? What are y'all doing, just ignoring the elephant in the room?"

You shrugged lightly, "I don't know, we know if we ever got married, it'd be to each other, but that's really it. We know we want to be together, we know we want to marry each other, but there's been no serious conversation about it."

"Uh, does that sound right to you?" Dani asked Pete.

He shook his head as you all took dainty bites of food to savor the flavors (and save Sugar some). "When I knew with Natalie, I didn't hesitate."

"Well, Carmy isn't like you, Pete," you defended. "He's got a lot on his plate, too, you know?"

"You've said that since Mikey," Dani frowned, her voice quiet.

"With good reason, don't you think? Carmy's just - he's just going through a lot right now and it's a challenge, you know?"

"No, it's more like Carmy's got the emotional intelligence of a fucking teaspoon!"

"Hey," you snapped, "that's not his fault, he doesn't know much better, so watch your mouth."

"He does with you, like... He knows better when he's with you, when it comes to you, Peach," Pete offered softly. "Look, maybe Danielle has a point - it is a little weird. I mean, you guys have been together, what? Six, almost seven years? Creeping up on a decade of just dating - that's a long time. And didn't you guys do that weird little half-dating thing for two years before making it official? Don't you think that's enough time to know if you want to marry someone, and then, you know? Actually marry them? Or at least ask them?"

"Sure, maybe to other people, but Carmy and I have never been conventional, so, I don't see why we need to start now."

Danielle scoffed, "Look, God love Carmy and everything, but you're just wasting time now. He needs to either commit or let you find someone who can actually love you like you deserve."

"Oh, and Carmy doesn't?"

"Wasn't all that long ago that you two took a break 'cause he called you clingy - and some other unsavory terms," Danielle shrugged. "Doesn't really sound like someone who loves you unconditionally - the way you should be loved."

You sighed and sat back in your chair, "I appreciate the insight, but Carm and I are fine. Okay? We've got years under our belts, we don't want to fuck up what obviously works for us so chill out on the questions, okay? I don't have answers to them."

Danielle and Pete shared a look before the man got up to excuse himself to the restroom. You and Dani finished your meals before sipping your wine, waiting for Pete, but Dani sighed, "This lady's been staring in here for, like, ten minutes already. It's freezing, doesn't she want to come in?"

"Hmm? What're you - ?"

"This lady on the street," your friend pointed over her shoulder towards the window her back was now turned to.

When you peaked out, you gasped lightly when you saw Donna Berzatto smoking a cigarette. "Oh, shit!" You stood from your seat, rushing, "Okay, so, uh, yeah - just - can you just sit here for a second? I have to go handle that."

"Who is it?" Dani wondered earnestly.

"I got it, Peach," Pete told you, passing by the table swiftly with a hand patting your shoulder to keep you at your table.

"What the hell's happening?" Dani asked. "Who is that?"

"Nothing, no one, it's okay, I think that's someone we know, just, uh, hang on a second? We'll be right back."

"Sure," she nodded in confusion, watching you get from your seat and follow Pete out the door onto the blistering cold sidewalk.

"Hey, Mama Donna," you greeted happily, arms crossing over your chest to protect from the wind. "Have you been inside yet? We saved you a seat and all, but isn't this - just wow?" You grinned, trying to encourage her to say anything about her children's hard work.

"Oh, no, no, not you, too, Peach, why are you here?" She groaned lightly, looking upset and close to tears.

"I'm here 'cause of Carmy? I-It's opening night, yeah?" You offered in confusion. "Why? What's wrong, Mama D?" You worried, glancing at an emotional Pete.

"No, it's just, I can't come in, I can't, just no," she backed away, only now making you notice the way Pete cried. "I'm so sorry, Peach, honey, but I was never here. Okay? I-I'll call them later, I swear, I promise, I'll call them - but I-I-I wasn't here. Okay? You can't tell them I was here. I'm so sorry."

"Donna, don't do this," you begged, head shaking. "Don't, please. Just come in with Pete and I - just sit there for a bit. Just come in and see what your kids have done - Donna, it's so beautiful. You'd be so proud, but you should really see it for yourself - "

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I can't, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, not tonight, no, I'm sorry, I can't," she deflected in a rambling mumble, turning and hustling down the sidewalk with her head shaking like a Etch-A-Sketch.

You rounded on Pete, "What the hell was that? Pete, what just happened?"

"Um, I-I don't - I didn't mean to."

"Pete? What didn't you mean?"

"She didn't tell her mom about the baby," he rushed, tears falling. "Nat didn't tell Donna, Peach, and I think I just did - I think I just fucked up and told her."

"Oh, no... No, Pete, you didn't."

"I didn't mean to! I swear it was an accident!"

"No, I know you didn't mean to, honey," you rushed, opening your arms to bring him in for a tight hug. "Oh, you poor boy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Pete."

He sighed, "I'm sorry, too, Peach."

"For what?"

"That... We fell in love with Berzattos and this is our new normal now, right?" He sniffled.

You half-smiled, "Yeah, something like that. But it's okay. See, where Donna's afraid to give her love, neither of us are. Sugar and Carm deserve that from us, right? To be authentic and just love them?"

He nodded, "Yeah, you're right."

"And that's all we gotta do... Is love them, Pete."

"God knows where else they'd get it," he huffed, wiping his face. "Hey, um, I'll be in, in a second - I just need a minute alone, I think, in the cold."

"Take all the time you need," you agreed.

"We're not - we're not telling them about this, right?"

You sighed, "No, I don't think so - at least right now. It might hurt them more, you know? To know Donna was here, but never came in. That she ran away... Again. It'll hurt, they deserve to be happy about tonight."

Pete nodded rapidly, looking like he was gonna burst into tears. Instead of going back inside, you just moved to Pete's side and stood there; producing a cigarette, lighting it, offering Pete a drag that he turned down, and the both of you just standing silently; one smoking, one crying, both processing.

"Wow, look at these gorgeous ladies! By far the baddest in the whole place! Yeah, man!" Fak teased as he approached you and Danielle after closing the The Bear officially. "What a privilege to have you both dine with us this evening! Ugh, truly an honor to see you both here," he praised comically, evening giving a small bow that his brother mimicked.

Your eyes rolled, "You're laying it on really thick when I already tipped you." He snickered with Theo. "Hey, seriously, though, tonight was incredible. I mean, it was all so beautiful, you should all be so proud."

"Oh, we are," Neil giggled, his brother hanging off his shoulders.

"Good," you teased. "Uh, is now an okay time to go back and see him? Kinda wanna offer my compliments to the chef directly, you know?"

"No," Fak answered instantly, "uh, well, probably not the best time."

"Yeah, probably not," Theodore echoed.

"I can sense you two ramping up to something," you sighed, "so, I'm gonna ask you skip all that and tell me what's wrong. Why can't I go see my boyfriend? He just had an incredibly successful opening night, I kinda wanna kiss him if you don't mind."

"Um, well, h-he didn't want you to worry, so, he said not t'tell you, but, uh... Yeah, no, Carmy's, like, locked in the walk-in freezer. Han Solo style."

"What?"

"Locked in the walk-in," Fak nodded rapidly, "yeah, no, the handle - like, the whole handle came off. He's locked in, Peach..."

"Oh, my fucking God," you breathed. "Are you saying he - he missed opening night? Neil!"

"Yeah, kinda... Well, sorta - I mean, technically, but - "

"Oh, Jesus," you breezed past them all.

"Mmm-mmm, the fridge guy's name is Terry," Tina corrected Carmy, flinching a little when he slapped the other side of the metal door he was locked behind.

"See, th-tha-that's what I'm talking about!" Carmy raged. "I'm so fucking distracted, and for what? For fucking what? 'Cause of a girl?" He chuckled ruefully to himself.

"Nuh-uh, don't do that, Carmy," Tina scolded. "That's not no girl, that's your girl, that's Peach - you don't lash out at her, baby."

"Yo, maybe - maybe I'm just not built for this. Right? Maybe that's okay! Maybe that just is. She'd be better off, Tina... I'm just - I'm not built for this."

But what Carmy didn't hear was Sydney asking Tina to cover her at the front because she needed to step out the back, get some air; Tina accepting and telling Carm to hang on a moment. Something he missed. While Tina took Syd's spot, Syd rushed outside, and you slipped in the kitchen door; Carmy being surrounded by shitty ripped tape and an entire side full of the flowers he had brought in for tonight - for you. It was a haunting reminder; something suffocating.

When you got to the walk-in, you were prepared to call out for Carmy, but he started speaking from within, halting any word on your tongue.

"I wasn't here b-because I was looking a-a-at fucking engagement rings when the fridge guy fuckin' called," Carmy ranted, your heart stalling in your chest. "Right? Like, what the fuck was I thinking? Like I was gonna get married? Commit to this relationship? Be h-her fucking husband or some shit? Have a fucking wife? I'm a fucking - I'm a fuckin' psycho!" He laughed a little, the tears springing to your eyes as his words disarmed your heart and emotional dam. "That's why! That's why I'm good at what I do! That's how I operate! I am the best because I didn't have any of this fuckin' bullshit, right? I could - I could focus and I could concentrate and I had a routine and I - and I had fuckin' cell reception, and Peach and I just had our own routine! We didn't need this extra bullshit, and now..."

You just listened, leaning on the freezer's door, tears silently leaking down your cheeks as you had the horrendous realization that you were what now slowed Carmy down. You were what currently stood in his way, when this whole time, you thought you were helping; making things easier; supporting him. No... No, his words rattled your heart to accept that you were now the bane; the object of his ire. You and your relationship was what was wrong and was causing Carmy hurt and professional complications.

Something you never wanted to contribute towards. You both always said if this relationship got to be too hard, you'd walk away. Better to feel anger than resentment; and now, you knew you had to walk away else risk that resentment fester.

Carmy started up again, "I don't need to provide amusement or enjoyment, I don't need to be someone's 'to have and to hold'. I don't need to receive any amusement or enjoyment, nor for someone to have and hold me... And I'm completely fine with that. Because no amount of good is worth how terrible this fucking feels." You were ready to open your mouth, but he finished by nailing the final nail in the coffin of your relationship, "It's just a complete waste of fuckin' time - entertaining what I know I shouldn't. Being in this relationship, trying to give what I don't have, wasting everyone's time."

You took your chance, speaking through your tears, "I'm really sorry you feel that way, Carmen."

"Peach?" Carmy rasped from behind the door, sounding more alert than he had before. "Baby? Hey, hey, Peaches? That you? Peach - hey. Hey," he sounded desperate as you backed away from the door, a fist pounding into the metal, "hey, no, Y/N? Y/N!" The seriousness settled over you both, Carmen understanding you heard a lot more than ever intended and once those words are out there, there's no getting them back. "Y/N, baby? Hey, no, no, Y/N - listen to me - hey, no, no! I-I didn't know you were there, baby, okay? No, Y/N, please - tell me you're there now, let me explain." He paused. "Let me explain! Please! C'mon, baby, please, let me fucking explain - tell me you're still there! Y/N? Y/N!"

You sniffled and walked away, feeling smaller than you ever had in your life. You barely noticed when the kitchen door opened, not until a figured dressed in black stopped you. "Peach? Hey, hey," Richie halted you - taking note of the tears. "What's wrong? What happened? Are you okay - who fuckin' did it?"

You just stared at Richie for a long moment, opening your mouth twice before sighing and smiling sadly. "I never wanted to be what got in his way," you whispered sadly. "I'm sorry, Richie."

"Peaches, hey, what's - "

But you reached up to kiss his cheek, "Tonight was so beautiful, Cousin, and I'm so fucking proud of you all. Thank you for everything - not just tonight, Richie, but everything you do." You smiled again, whispering, "Take care of him. Okay? He'll need you."

"What're you talking about? What's going on? Where are you going? Hey, where are you going, Peach, please?"

"Have a good night, Richie, I love you," you whispered, leaving out the kitchen door as quickly as you could. "Hey," you sniffled, approaching Dani with the Fak Brothers, "can we go now, please?"

"Are you okay?" Dani worried in shock.

"I'd really like to go, Dani, please," you rushed, throwing your coat on and smiling at the Brothers as if your heart wasn't in pieces. "Thanks again for tonight, you guys, it was magical."

"Peach? Wait, hey, are you okay, baby? What just happened?" Neil worried, watching you snatch Dani's hand, but pause when screaming was heard from the kitchen. Everyone stared at the door, Neil muttering, "The fuck are they...?"

"Now, Dani, please," you whimpered to your friend, who wasted no time in escorting you out of The Bear. The moment you were outside, you burst into sobs, Dani grunting a little as she lead you down a side alley to lean you on a brick wall and beg you to breathe normally.

"What the hell just happened? Hey, honey, you need to breathe," she smoothed hair off your face - but it was like you were drowning in the air with the way you gasped and gaped and panted and whimpered and choked yourself.

"I-I-I-I think - I think w-we're done, I think we're done, I think - oh, fuck - I think we just broke up," you sobbed, hands on your knees. "Oh, my God, Dani," you whimpered, "I-I think - I think we're done, Danielle, oh, my fucking God. I-I heard things tonight that I just - I can't not know, anymore! He said - fuck! He was just so candid, he didn't know I was there so h-he was sayin' things I have t-to now confront - and I really didn't fucking want to! He just - he doesn't want to really marry me, D, and-and-and he was apparently looking a-a-a-at rings - fucking engagement rings! But then he said that w-was the issue - he missed the fridge guy's call 'cause he was looking at fucking rings for me and this is why he missed opening night - 'cause the fucking fridge broke! Oh, my God, Danielle, i-i-it's my fault, it's my fucking fault, he missed the most important night of his life and it's my fault - "

You were cut off by your stomach lurching, emptying your insides onto the pavement. The delicious appetizer, the tantalizing main course, Marcus' fresh baked bread that was delightfully soft on the inside yet baked crisp on the outside, and every bit of the sweetened dessert - all wasted on Chicago bricks.

"Okay, okay, ah, shit, just get it out, babe, there you go," Danielle held your hair, catching you in a suffocating hug once you were done puking. "I've got you, babe, I've got you. You're okay, no, hey, this isn't your fault. I've got you, come on. I think we need pints of ice cream and the saltiest pretzels we can find," she pushed some hair from your sticky forehead, pouting dramatically, "maybe some Pepto? Few Saltines and ginger ale? C'mon, we're going back to mine, there's a good girl," she coaxed you from the ground and away from the wall, "c'mon, you're stronger than this. There's my girl, here we go, just one foot in front of the other - together, with me, just like that."

You sobbed, not knowing that Sydney and her father stood listening just a few feet away behind a set of dumpsters.

The moment the freezer's door was open and Carmy was free, he was sprinting around the kitchen to grab his coat, leave Neil in charge of closing, and racing out the door as the Fak Brothers yelled at him for hurting your feelings.

"Hey, hey, hey, Chef! Carmy, wait!" Sydney chased him outside.

"No time!"

"Wait! She went with her friend!"

Carmy came to a tripping halt, catching himself before he hit the pavement before whirling around to approach her, "What?"

"Her friend? She was with some girl tonight?"

"Yeah - yeah, yeah, yeah, uh, um, that's - yeah, that's Danielle," Carmy nodded. "Her best friend, yeah, they were here tonight, sitting with Pete and Sugar."

"Listen, Carmy, I heard them when they left the restaurant... Peach was really upset, like, more upset than I've ever heard, saying you two broke up? Or something? She cried so hard, Carm, she actually threw up, it sounded like she was in genuine distress. I-I didn't know if I should've intervened, but her friend was with her and helping."

"Shit - fuck - Goddamnit," he seethed. "All right, thank you - "

"I doubt they went to your place, I think I heard her friend saying they were going to her apartment."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, great, I know where Dani lives, thanks Syd!" Carmy bid, sprinting in the other direction - never bothering with the public bus system, just running into the night. Sydney was left to sigh on the sidewalk, Neil and Theo joining her before Richie followed - all watching Carmy disappear down the sidewalk.

"He's a fucking idiot," Richie shook his head.

"What the hell even happened?" Syd asked.

"Carmy mouthed off in the walk-in, Peach heard it all," Richie supplied. "You know the dumbass was gonna propose tonight?"

"What?" Syd blinked in shock.

"Yeah," Neil tacked on, "we had a whole plan and everything. Candles, soft music, flowers - there's a bunch of flower bouquets in the walk-in."

"I'm sure that was hard for Carm to look at," Syd sympathized.

"Doesn't excuse whatever he said," Richie snapped. "She looked devastated."

"She cried so hard, she threw up in the alley," Syd frowned.

"How do you know?" Neil asked.

"I heard her," the other chef frowned. "My dad and I - we actually both heard her."

"Jesus fuck," Richie seethed.

"I mean... Should we still set up?" Theo wondered to his brother. "What if they kiss and make up, like always? Carmy might still wanna go through with the proposal, right? You know?"

"Maybe," Neil trailed, looking at Richie.

"I don't fucking know," he sighed, hands on his hips.

"She thinks they broke up, I imagine whatever she heard was pretty nasty," Sydney frowned. "Think they'll really make up tonight?"

"Let's hope," Richie sighed. "That fuckin' idiot isn't gonna find anyone better than Peach. Fuck," he looked around the city street. "All right, fuck it, fine, let's fucking set up. Not like the jackass deserves it, but let's do it for Peach."

Neil and his brother grinned at each other, turning to hustle back into The Bear - leaving Sydney and Richie on the street. No words were exchanged, just silent shakes of their heads before they followed the Faks with the intention to help set up for a proposal nobody even knew if would still happen.

The cold night burned Carmy's lungs, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of suffocation he felt earlier when listening to one of your voicemails while trapped.

Your words were sweet as pie, as they usually were; a voicemail left when you were still at work, but feeling so excited to see him that night that you just had to call him. You reminded him of the adoration and love you held for him, relaying how proud you felt - and that you knew Mikey would be, too. You were always doing that, reassuring Carmy; and maybe that's why he felt so freaked out, he wasn't used to it. Even after almost 7 years together, he just wasn't used to what he didn't know he deserved.

Because Carmy didn't think he deserved anything remotely close to love, understanding, compassion, patience, and / or reassurance.

He had sobbed out loud as he locked his phone, not having the heart to delete your message. He often never did - he liked listening to your voice on long, hard nights; it brought him peace when the world felt too loud. He also kept whatever little notes you left for him, even going as far as to get a few of your hand-drawn hearts tattooed on his forearm. One for each anniversary you've shared together. He realized he never wanted to be without you and all his doubts and fear was him projecting his own incompetence towards this relationship; so, he locked his phone, he didn't delete your message.

The moment the fridge door had been opened, Carmy was out of there, shot off like a Roman Candle - your words of love and understanding still ringing in his ears as he was freed. He needed to apologize, and he needed to apologize right fucking now.

The whole run to Danielle's apartment, Carmy wasn't sure what to say to you; mulling over different ideas in his head. He tried to plan his speech, but the only thing he could think of was how much he loved you and that the ring in his pocket weighed a hundred pounds.

He pounded at Danielle's door. Carmy paced slightly as he waited, knocking frantically, and surely waking the neighbors - but that didn't matter. All that mattered was talking to you, something he was desperate to accomplish. When the door opened, your friend offered a stale look and shook her head, "Nope."

"Dani, please," he halted the closing door, "it's all a misunderstanding, I swear to God, please, just - let me try to fix this. Please, okay? I-I need her - I fucking need her and I have to fix this 'cause she's all that matters, okay? So, let me talk to her - please. Please, Danielle!"

"Yeah? The only thing?"

"More than anyone, more than anything - more than The fucking Bear, I swear to fucking God, Danielle! Just - Just one chance, please. I-I don't know how it all got so fucked, but please, I have to try - "

"Whatever you said in that freezer, Carmen, fucking gutted her, you hear me?" Dani stood in her doorway protectively. "Should've had your ass frozen for the hurt you caused her. How the fuck do you intend on making this right? Huh? It's been almost a fucking decade, dude, if you're seriously still afraid of commitment, just fuck off and leave her alone. Let her walk away 'cause I promise, there's a line of dudes who would love to put a ring on her loyal-ass finger - "

"Please, let me fix this," Carmy begged, sounding close to tears. "I need her, Danielle, please."

"It's okay, D," a voice whispered from behind Danielle, and when she turned, you were revealed - jacket and purse in hand, looking completely exhausted, drained, and disheveled. "I'm just tired, Dani, but we have to talk about this... So, I'll go home with him and call you tomorrow, okay?"

"You sure?"

"It's a decent walk, gives us too much time to talk," you shrugged, refusing to meet Carmy's bloodshot eyes. "Thanks for tonight, sorry I was such a mess," you whispered, hugging your best friend since pre-school.

"Girl, don't you ever apologize to me. But hey, look, I don't know, you were just drowning in your tears, like, five minutes ago. Sure you really wanna go? You can stay here as long as you'd like, girl, fuck him."

"Better to work it out now than later, I guess," you whispered, letting her kiss your cheek and see you guys out.

"She calls me cryin', Carmen, I'll kick your ass," She threatened as you moved down the apartment's hall. You might've snickered just a little, but the amusement was wiped clean when you rounded the corner and came up to the elevators.

Now that it was just you two, it was dreadfully awkward.

"Baby - "

"Just - don't talk for right now, Carmen," you sighed, shaking your head. "I'm still digesting all you said."

He frowned when you walked onto the elevator without a single emotion on your face, following you, and when on the ground floor, moved out to head home. It was quiet, it was awkward; only the sounds of traffic filling the space between you as you walked.

"Listen," he started with a long sigh, "you came in at the worst time, Peach, heard some shit you shouldn't have that I-I didn't even mean. I was just," he paused, sighing, "really angry and frustrated, fucking running my mouth 'cause I didn't know what else to do."

"Sounded like I came in at the best time since you're not very forthcoming with emotions. So, hearing your confession put a lot in perspective for me, Carm."

"I was just angry, Peach," he frowned, hands deep in his pockets. "Felt like I was self sabotaging myself, I wasn't sure what else to feel. So, I just lashed out. I didn't mean it, but I just felt like being angry... So fucking angry, baby, I just - I didn't know what else to feel."

"I don't know if I can be with someone like that," you whispered. "Someone who throws our relationship under the bus when he's angry, someone who's first line of defense is apparently to blame the relationship he's been in for over half a decade with the same girl. Someone you've known your whole life..."

"Peach - "

"If it's that easy for you to just disregard us, I don't think we should continue this."

Carmy took a breath and reached out to pull you to a stop. He dug in his pocket for a moment, then showed you the black velvet jewelry box. "I was gonna propose tonight, when everyone was gone," he explained when you took the box to open gingerly. "I think because that was on my mind already, something I was more than nervous to actually do, you're right, it did become my first line of defense to blame us - not just you, baby, but us. You and me... Mostly me, though," he chuckled sadly. "You're this perfect, sweet angel who just loves me out loud when I don't deserve it, and I'm... I'm just me," he sighed, eyes reddening. "And I know I'm never gonna be enough for you, I think I started to get in my head about if you said no. How I missed the call from Terry about the fridge 'cause I was picking out an engagement ring that you didn't even want, that you rejected - rejected me; and in turn, I missed opening night, and it all just - it got to a boiling point. Look, Peach, it's never been a secret that I don't think I deserve you... But I wanted to be the man that could at least give you an honest try of my best. You've stuck by me the past seven years when you should've ran for the hills, and I knew I wanted us for life years ago - but everything was still so up in the air. So confusing. So fucked up. I figured, after opening tonight, if things went t'plan, I could propose - prove to you that we're on our feet and there weren't any rugs to be pulled."

"What if things didn't go to plan?" You whispered.

"We're kinda living it now," he admitted, hand rubbing the back of his neck. "But even if tonight was all a total failure, I know I might've still done it because it's you, Peach. It's you... I've known for years you're who I want, I just never knew how to do this - to move us forward. You're my first relationship, hopefully my only relationship, and I just didn't know how to advance us. I think when things got real for me, my insecurities crept in, and I just reacted - I didn't think."

"We always said when this wasn't healthy or when this wasn't good for us anymore, we'd walk away," you reminded. "That we'd rather be sad or angry about a breakup instead of letting resentment fester from being together."

"It's still good for me, Peach, we're still good," he whispered, stepping closer. "Is it still good for you? Or did I lose you completely tonight?"

"I don't know, Carmy, you've been lashing out a lot lately. At me specifically."

"And with The Bear now open, I-I should be okay. You know? Back to normal?"

You chuckled dryly, "I see, back to your high walls? Emotional constipation?"

"Then maybe not normal," he corrected, "because I just needed to get us here, to tonight, to opening, and then show you that it's over. Show you that part of our lives is over and we only have more adventures to look forward to. Not ones like this, though," he gestured up the street, your eyes cutting over and realizing you were back at The Bear.

"Do you really think you're a psycho?"

He chuckled, "After tonight? Yeah, pretty convinced... Plus, I, uh, I saw in the freezer the way we're labeling things - and got angry about it. Angry about the way we were tearing tape and labeling things. It was so fucking stupid, but I just - I felt so crazy. I still do, I still feel like my head doesn't make sense and I'm a bit, you know... Crazy."

You nodded slowly, "Then how can you promise me this kinda shit won't happen again?"

"I don't think I can, but I can make you the promise that I am working on it; trying to identify when I feel reactive, trying to calm that down. I'm trying, Peach, I really am - it's just... Taking a lot of time," he sighed sadly. "And I know you don't have any more left to give me."

"I've already given you this many years," you reminded softly, "I think I could spare another or two if it meant you getting your shit together, that you get better, stop feeling so crazy."

"I don't deserve anymore time - "

"I think you need to step back and reevaluate what it means to be deserving because you always say that. That you don't deserve something - even as simple as time. Everyone deserves time and opportunity to figure shit out, Carmy, and you're no exception."

He nodded, "I'm... Trying." He took a long, deep breath, "I'm, uh... Going to meetings, you know, like, uh, Al-Anon and whatever."

"That's good, they're there to help," you nodded, stepping closer to take his hands in yours after closing the ring box and stuffing it back in his pocket. "Now, I think you need to do something."

"Anything, Peach."

"Take my hand, bring me back to The Bear, and go about your plan."

He froze in shock, blinking at you in earnest, "You really mean that?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"No, ma'am, and I think that scares me more."

"You'd rather break up? 'Cause at this point, Carm, we either move forward with this engagement and fucking work our shit out, or we break up. It's been almost a decade. It's your choice, you're the one who was saying he couldn't be someone's husband, that he didn't need to provide anyone nor have them provide you with anything. So, you tell me what you want to do - because all I know is that I love you, I want you for life, but not if you're going to resent me and regret moving our relationship forward. I don't need to get married, Carmy, but you can't keep jerking me around like you have been. So... Make a decision based on what you want - based on what's best for you. Not what's best for us, but put yourself first right now, Carmy, and make a decision about what you want."

With a nod of his head, Carmy cleared his throat and offered you his hand. When he felt you lock your fingers with his, he glanced up and down the street, then lead you across it. Up the sidewalk and to the front door of The illuminating Bear, he paused to produce his keys and then lead you inside.

The lights were dim, but a flip of the switch brightly lit up the newly constructed restaurant. He seemed nervous at your cool demeanor, watching you shed your coat and set your purse down; but his hand took yours again and lead you further into the place. He seemed nervous, but once in the kitchen, it was almost like Carmy's stress melted away.

"I was... I had this plan," he explained softly, leaning on one of the work stations with both hands in yours to keep you in front of him. "I have all these candles, right? Was gonna distract you in here," he looked around the fluorescent lighting, "while Richie, Fak, Tina, and the others set everything up. We'd hang in here after the place was closed down, you know, show you around the completed kitchen. And really casually, I'd ask if you were ready to go, so, we'd go out the front, and we'd walk right into the candlelight..."

"Yeah?" He nodded, thumbs running over your hands as he pushed off the counter. "Don't deviate from your plan now..."

Carmy smirked, "Wanna hear the boring kitchen stuff?"

"Of course, I do."

So, he lead you around in a tour of the kitchen; showing off the new office space that he invited you to take advantage of whenever you wanted. The sleek appliances were shown off, the vast fridges, freezers, new cutlery, state-of-the-art dishwashers. Everything, he showed you, knowing you helped him pick a lot of it out - it was still nice to see it all come together finally.

And then, slowly, he lead you out of the kitchen, but to your honest shock, the dining room was covered in lit candles and different bouquets of thick, gorgeous floral arrangements. "Oh, holy shit," you breathed, Carmy hiding his confusion much better than you.

You came to a slow halt in the middle of the room, the lights out and only leaving the candles to provide an ambiance. "I had this whole speech planned, too," Carmy told you softly. "Remind you of the day we met, how you saved me from those jackass bullies - remember?"

You smiled softly, emotions swirling in your chest, "First day of first grade, you had a Buzz Lightyear backpack and some kids were picking on you 'cause of it."

"And what did you do?"

You felt bashful remembering, but humored him by answering, "Pushed their faces in the mud at recess and made them apologize."

"You've been my best friend since that day," he nodded, bringing you in a few steps closer. "And when we got to high school, my feelings changed. You weren't just my best friend, but the girl I was madly in love with... Took me a couple years to buck up the courage to ask you out officially, though."

"Sure took your sweet time," you whispered with a smile, "but all good things to those who wait, right?"

"And I think you've waited long enough for a man to be who you deserve," he frowned. "All these years - it's been you at my side. You even - fuck - you even came over to Amsterdam for a bit because I was feeling overwhelmed and lonely. Sad, maybe even a little homesick. But you just - you just showed up like it was the most common thing in the world."

You chuckled through your tears, "Yeah, we had some good times on that boat, didn't we?"

He nodded with a softening smile, pushing hair from your face and behind your ear; pausing to hold your cheek carefully. "And when we came back stateside... You were still the only constant presence in my life. You were my family without blood, and I knew after that Christmas that you'd forever be my other half, and I'd spend my life conveying how grateful I am for you. I just - I never knew how to put it into words until now."

"What changed?"

"Realizing that I wanted to marry you years ago - and I should've. I know I shouldn't have drug my feet with us, delay our inevitable, because honestly? I couldn't see my life without you in it and I knew I needed you with me forever. Peach," he frowned, reaching for your other cheek, "we agreed when this wasn't healthy, we'd walk away - I remember that. But I need you to know, I'll never fucking regret you. I'll never resent you. You've been unwaveringly supportive and loving and... And I've been the luckiest man to experience it all. But now," he pushed himself a step closer so he was hovered over your lips, "I know that you deserve someone just as present in this relationship as you are. I knew once The Bear was done, I was done - I was done beating this bush around and wasting time. I knew what I needed to do because the idea of you not being in my life anymore terrifies me more than anything. I don't remember life without you, Peach, and I don't ever want to know what it's like. So," he cleared his throat, "here, in the restaurant I so desperately wanted to give up on so many times, but you always stopped me, I wanted to make this official. I wanted it to be here to show you that the past year of our turmoil - it's fucking over, Peach. We did it," he whispered, "and now, the next and only thing I want to focus on is us."

Carmy readjusted you both for a little bit of space, holding your left hand tightly as he lowered himself to a single knee; looking up at you with those big, wide, sad blue eyes that were growing redder by the passing second. The candlelight created a romantic atmosphere that cocooned you both in a warm embrace, the flowers around you projecting their floral scent.

"So, I need to ask you something real important, baby," he whispered, his throat bobbing to restrain his emotion that clawed up his throat, "because if I don't, I don't think I could breathe again." He cleared his throat, pulling the ring box from his pocket and opening it to present to you officially. "Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N... My sweetest Peach, I've loved you almost my entire life, you're my best friend, my most loyal and sweetest confidant. You make me want to be a man better than I was yesterday and never before have I ever seriously considered marriage - until you. Now? Now, I can't get the idea out of my head, so, my sweet girl," he took another breath, the tears in his eyes swelling and slowly dripping down his cheeks as you slowly got on your knees in front of him, "I need to ask you... W-Would you do me the honor? Of being my wife?"

"Carmen."

He grinned at you, both with tears down your cheeks. "Will you marry me, Y/N? I can't see my life without you in it, so... I want this, I want you for life. Y/N, will you marry me?" He paused, adding a meek little, "Please?" at the end.

With a deep breath, you slowly reached for his cheeks in a soft caress to wipe his tears; both just staring at one another for a good few moments before a face-splitting grin nearly cracked your lips. "Yes," you finally answered, "yeah, yes, yes, of course, I'll marry you, Carmen, yes!"

"Oh, thank fuckin' God," he laughed, letting you lunge forward to knock him backward in a hug - missing the candles arranged in a small circle for you two to stand in. Carmy laughed loudly, happily, giving you a tight squeeze as he mused, "Had my heart beatin' outta my chest for a second there, Peach."

"Oh, please," you laughed, "after all this time, you really thought I'd say no?"

He shrugged meekly, "Thought my most recent fuck-ups would've added to any reasons you might have to say no."

"Oh, spare me - you're my best friend, Carmy, you know I couldn't ever say no to you. Not without puking in nervousness."

"Can we maybe not talk about puke when we just got engaged?"

You laughed and nodded, "Fine, fine, fine, then put the ring on, please."

You presented your left manicured hand, watching Carmy almost giddily removed the band from the box, took a slow, deep breath, and then, the most beautiful ring was being slid onto your finger in an official show of your engagement. Of your undying love. Of your commitment, promises, and future together.

"YEAH!" An array of varying cheers and hollers of support and excitement rang out around you; startling both you and Carmy to look up. Richie, Sydney, Tina, Neil, Theo, Pete, and Sugar all hung in the bathroom's alcove - watching with splitting grins and cheering in celebration.

There was no time to question them as Richie lead the charge over; helping you to your feet for a giant, bear hug before gushing over your engagement ring. Neil and Theo popped one of the authentic bottles of champagne, pouring different flutes for those present.

"Calm down," Natalie scolded Richie lightly, "and move out the way, I want to hug my engaged bestie!"

You squealed with Sugar when her arms wrapped around you tightly, Rich moving on to congratulate Carmy - who apologized for his angry words earlier and thanked them for still setting things up. Richie promised it was for you, not Carmy, but still hugged the little shit with a laugh - indicating he was just joking.

"Let me see!" Natalie grinned, examining the ring Carmy chose and squealing again. "Oh, my God! Oh, it's so pretty! Oh, shit - sisters!" She gasped, holding your hands tightly, "We're going to be sisters - like, officially!"

"Sisters in law, but yeah, cupcake," you beamed at her, wiping your tears and giggling. "I can't - this just doesn't feel real," you told her softly, looking the few feet over to see Carmy with the lads as Sydney stood with you and Sugar. "Him proposing? I genuinely thought it wouldn't happen," you tried to laugh your nerves off, looking at your ring and fiddling with it.

"Yeah, right," Sydney laughed. "I haven't been around that long and even I knew this was gonna happen."

"Oh, please, she's right," Natalie grinned when you went to retaliate, "he first started talking about how he wanted to marry you when he was, like, 15. This has been the longest thing coming."

"Thank you guys for helping," you whispered with a smile. "It's all so beautiful."

"Happy to help for a good cause," Syd smiled, complimenting your ring as Neil called for a toast. Everyone was given flutes of champagne, Carmy's arm wrapping around your waist as each friend gave their own little speech, congratulating you both before the alcohol was being drained.

"Uh, and where are you two going?" Sugar asked about an hour later with a small giggle when Carmy wrapped an arm around your neck after helping you into your coat again.

"Gotta celebrate alone with my fiancé," he smirked, "later, guys! Don't forget to lock up!"

"Carmen!" You scolded with a small laugh, gaping at him.

"What? They got this," Carmy chuckled. "Thanks, you guys, see you tomorrow!"

"We can help clean," you told him as he lead you out of the restaurant.

"Nah, we've got bigger plans," he smirked at you. "Got plenty t'celebrate, yeah? Ever fucked as fiancés before?"

"No - but I hear it's some crazy sex," you whispered, locking your arms around his waist to stay close. Neither of you cared about the bus at this hour, opting to walk home in the cold - not that you felt it. Your love burned brighter than the cold biting your skin.

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

[sillyrabbit81]

The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood - Part Sixteen

Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.

A reverse harem, biker AU.

Part Sixteen Summary: Marshall opens up about his past.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC

Word Count: Approx. 3.1k

Warnings:

Series Warnings: Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.

Part Sixteen Warnings: slight angst, discussion of murder and violence against women, smut, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of body fluids, I think thats it

Authors Note: Thanks as always to my lovely BBFs (Best Beta's forever) @henryobsessed and @nashibirne .

So... Been a while... I am really nervous about posting because it has been so long! But I put my big girl pants on and I'm just going to do it. This chapter had to be split in half, which was a small reason for why this took so long to put out, the other part is that I think some of it is a bit dry... Exposition is hard!!!! The next part isn't quite finished but this point was a natural stopping point so I figure, post this and then maybe I won't be so in my head about the next bit.

Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part Fifteen Part Seventeen

Lori

I woke up with a start.

My heart was beating as fast as a mouse’s and I was sucking in huge gulps of air that failed to fill the hollow in my chest. I was shaking, every muscle and sinew quivering with a chilling thrum, yet I was frozen. I willed myself to move but my glaciated neurons refused to fire, iced over, hardened, ready to snap.

From behind me, a heavy arm moved on my waist and a hand pressed against my belly as soft whiskers and gentle lips caressed and the back of my neck. Relief warmed my blood in a balmy rush, my body thawing in a heady and welcomed surge.

Marshall. It was only Marshall.

“Alright?” he asked, his voice low and rough from sleep.

I hummed, not quite ready to speak. I looked at the clock on the nightstand. Small and generic, its garish neon green digital numerals reminded me that my room wasn’t actually my room and my briefly mollified anxiety inched its way back into my tightening chest.

I’d barely slept, little more than dozed. I wondered if I should get up and shower, but I didn’t want to disturb Marshall. So I laid there and listened to his breathing return to its regular cadence while I tried to recall and hold onto my dream. I might as well have tried to catch a cloud, the memories were wispy vapours, too vague and insubstantial to retain, leaving behind echoing stains of dread and emptiness. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what I had dreamed of. The strange and rapid life changes over the past couple of weeks made it possible for me to push aside the grief from the loss of my parents and focus on other things like my anger at Nate, the shocking revelations about Jake, and the developing situation with the Brothers. I may have made a conscious decision not to dwell and process my emotions, but my subconscious was obviously not on board.

I focussed on the rhythm of Marshall’s breathing, the soft reverberation in his throat on each inhale and the sturdy snugness of his arms while I pushed down the lingering feelings, stuffing them like clothes into a laundry basket, deep into the recesses of my mind. Even as I crammed them away, I knew I’d have to deal with my emotions at some point. I told myself I would, just not today, or tomorrow. Maybe in a month or two. Or three. When I was home again, or alone, or when things were back to normal.

Eventually, the residual fear from my lost dream ebbed and slowly faded while a myriad of new ones took its place. 

Had last night been another mistake on the long list of mistakes I had made. Was Marshall another Jake? Was Sy for that matter?

Sy.

Now that Marshall and I had crossed the Rubicon, would Sy still feel the same way about me when he returned and faced the reality of what he had agreed to? Or, had the existence of the pact forced him to adhere to it out of a sense of bravado and loyalty to the Brotherhood? Had I just turned myself into another groupie, a woman destined for a lifetime of disrespect, deception and disillusion, stupidly thinking that an outlaw, an outsider, a biker, could change for them?

I waited for the gut feeling that I had fucked up by sleeping with Marshall to arrive, but it never came. Of course there were no guarantees in any relationship, but everything that had happened with Marshall had felt sincere and genuine. 

“I can hear you thinking,” Marshall grumbled. His breath was warm against my ear and his gentle accent made me shiver as a heated rush rippled across my skin, soothing and comforting me.

“I thought you were asleep,” I said.

He grunted and shifted his body until he laid on his back. I rolled over, following him and he tucked me under his arm. He glanced with a half smile that I barely picked up in the darkness of the room. I returned it and his grin grew slightly bigger before he laid his head back into the pillows.

“My sleep cycle has been off for years. Never recovered from shift work with the PD.”

I shimmied closer to him, pressing my breasts against his side, resting my thigh across his hips and dipped my fingers into the thick, coarse curls that spread across his chest from shoulder to shoulder. In response, I felt him stroke my arm, the tips of his fingers tracing an invisible path.

“Marshall?”

“Lori,” he replied, one side of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

“How did you end up in the Brotherhood?”

His smile vanished instantly and after a couple of passes over my arm, his hand stopped his caress, pausing mid stroke. His eyes sought out mine and I made it easier for him, by laying my chin on his chest, ignoring the way his wispy hairs tickled my jaw.

“There were a series of murders. Women, young women, some still teens. To call them murders doesn’t go far enough, each one was assaulted, tortured…” Marshall trailed off but his fingers began to stroke me again, this time sweeping over my back.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I said.

Marshall grunted and took a deep breath. “It was a long investigation that led nowhere. We had physical evidence, DNA, but no matches in the system and no motives. There were no useful eyewitnesses, no connections between the victims, they were of different racial backgrounds, economic status, from all over the city. We kept hitting dead ends, every lead we had didn’t pan out. Meanwhile, more girls were showing up dead, nearly a dozen and the media were breathing down our necks.”

He scoffed, his lip curled in disgust.

“They can be viscous,” I said, remembering the media circus that followed my parents' death.

Lifting his head, Marshall kissed my forehead before continuing.

“Eventually a name popped up that looked promising, he had been a contact in four of the victim’s phones. No other number had shown up twice, let alone four times. So we started an investigation into him. Found out he was a CEO of a financial institution or an investment bank, I don’t remember which. He was young, one of those prodigious financial wizards that seemed to have the Midas touch. He was famous in the financial world, puff pieces in newspapers, magazines, you know the type?”

I nodded and he continued.

“We’d barely gotten further than collecting basic background on this guy when the case was taken out of our hands by the Feds. I was furious, obviously, their jurisdiction over the case was on a flimsy basis at best. There was nothing I could do about it but wait for news of the investigation. However, months went by and… nothing. No news, no arrests, no more media reports, nothing.”

“He wasn’t the guy?”

Marshall shrugged. “I thought I must have been wrong. After a year, a homeless guy was arrested and charged.”

“So you had the wrong guy, after all?”

Marshall chuffed and shook his head.

“I knew in my gut the man they arrested was a patsy. I looked into it. I talked to some of his friends from the streets and as far as I could tell he wasn’t even in town when the first three victims had been murdered. His friends said he came to the city to attend the funeral of his murdered daughter.”

“No,” I gasped, my mouth covering my hand in shock.

“Yes,” Marshall said, “He was the father of the first victim we found. We had tried to contact him in the early days of the investigation, but he couldn’t be located. By the time he had discovered what happened to his daughter, there had been other victims and it was no longer a priority to find him and rule him out as a suspect.”

I thought about Nate and my father. I had never been privy to the dealings of the club, but you picked things up. The club had a surprisingly low number of members with criminal records and although I had never been explicitly told, I knew it was because the “right” people had been paid off for years. I figured the real killer must have been doing something similar, but on a massive scale.

“So what did you do?” I asked. 

“I took my theories up the chain and requested permission to do my own investigation. I was told in no uncertain terms that if I did that, it would cost me my badge.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Shit.”

“I couldn’t let it go though. I knew I couldn’t investigate alone and I suspected that I might be under surveillance. I couldn’t ask anyone else in the department to risk their job, so I called a guy I trusted. He used to be a bounty hunter but by then was working as a private security contractor.”

“Geralt?” I guessed.

“Geralt,” Marshall repeated. “He used his connections and reported back that there had been rumours floating about this guy for years, from his college days to his early Wall Street days to this case. Reports of domestic violence from women he’d had relationships with and assaults on sex workers that always seemed to be retracted or ignored. Somehow, this fucking guy kept getting away with fucking murder because of his connections.”

He closed his eyes and the muscles of his jaw pulsed beneath his thickly bearded skin. Swallowing hard, he opened his eyes and his voice was husky as he continued.

“When I realised what they had done to that man, that girl’s father… I wasn’t particularly idealistic and I wasn’t naive, but I had never thought that this level of corruption could happen. The Feds, the media, the PD; how many people must be involved, how many people were paid off or blackmailed? Everything I knew, everything I….”

He shrugged and was quiet. I waited, sure he had more to say. But he stayed silent, jaw twitching again and his eyes seemed to glaze over as his thoughts seemed to drift away.

I placed my hand on his cheek, my thumb sweeping along the bone and tilted my head to kiss his chest softly. Marshall’s hand went to my hair stroking my hair off my face.

“I quit. I couldn’t do that kind of work again, not knowing what I knew. I went back to Geralt, thinking with my SWAT background, maybe I’d try private security. Instead, Geralt introduced me to Sy and Walker.”

“What happened to the CEO?”

Marshall’s grin was a little disconcerting as he replied, “He got his in the end. An international financial scandal ruined him. The bank he headed was laundering money for the cartels and he was directly implicated in running the scam. The CIA got him for that one, apparently his reach didn’t go that far.”

“What happened to the father?” I asked.

“Suicide in prison while awaiting trial. It was a fucking joke.”

“I’m sorry, Walter,” I said softly.

His eyes found mine. Blue, deep and clear, they held me and I couldn’t look away. He sighed and shifted his hips. The movement made his thigh brush high between my legs and I became very conscious of the fact that both of us were naked.

The atmosphere changed, the air crackled with an electric anticipation and a heady jolt of lust worked its way down my spine to my core. I wasn’t alone, Marshall breathing became heavy, his nostrils flaring as he drew in each breath and his chest swelled.

His fingertips began to skim over my back again, and my skin broke out in goosebumps as I shivered with pleasure. His burly arms drew me to his chest, the coarse hair tickled my nipples as he guided me onto my back. Blanketing me with his comfortingly heavy body, his weight was concentrated at our hips and effectively pinned me to the mattress. My legs split beneath him, opening myself up in a shameless invitation. He took the hint, and he rolled his hips against me as he kissed me. 

It was like he was a different man; his feral, almost brutal urgency gave way to languid deliberateness. His lips moved down the column of my neck, hands exploring, clasping my ribs as if he wanted to caress not just the flesh, but the bones beneath. Moving with barely restrained greed, he slipped my nipple into his mouth and his teeth captured it while his velvety tongue flicked. His lips were satin, his beard was rugged silk, equally coarse and soft as he kissed and rubbed his cheeks against the sensitive skin between my breasts.

Opening his bearded jaw wide, he took more of me into his mouth than just my pink pebbled nipple. I watched bleary eyed as creamy skin disappeared into his warm mouth and his tongue lashed. My fingers slid into his thick curls, holding him close, begging for more.

I moved a hand down his shoulder and back feeling his dense muscles ripple under my touch. I went lower, down his side and abdomen, a rush of heat surged through me as my fingers found the trail of hair below his navel. I wanted to follow its path, wanted to feel him throbbing just like I was.

Thwarting my plans, Marshall laid warm, wet, kisses down my tummy, and became out of reach. I let out a petulant moan and he grinned, rubbing his beard against a sensitive spot near my hip, making me giggle and squirm out of his grasp. He caught my hip and pushed me down to the bed again in a flash back to his earlier impatience.

“Shh,” he soothed with a wolfish grin.

His hand swept down my thigh, curling under my knee and gently guiding my legs further apart. His kisses started at my knee and moved down the inside of my thigh, heat from his mouth made me shiver and I fell back onto the bed. He got closer to my soaked, throbbing core and I felt his tongue at the crease of my thigh, lapping at the combined wetness there from both my arousal and his release.

I gasped and leaned up on my elbows to watch and his feverish blue eyes were looking up at me from between my legs. My body looked as aroused as I felt, nipples tight and hard, tummy and thighs trembling, my pussy was swollen and glistening with the remains of our previous, furious love making.

Fingers glided over me, thumbs pulling apart my folds, his breath simultaneously warm and cooling against my hot throbbing sensitive skin. A finger teased my weeping core, swirling at my entrance. I was on fire, desperately clenching at nothing, and I could feel evidence of his orgasm leaked from within me.

“Fuck,” he murmured under his breath.

“Marshall,” I said breathlessly, reaching for his shoulders, trying to pull him up to me, “stop teasing me. Just fuck me.”

“I’ll fuck you,” he said, voice husky, almost gone. Then he mumbled something I couldn’t catch against my pussy.

The feel of his tongue prodding my entrance, no doubt tasting himself as he ate me out was so wickedly filthy to me that I was completely transfixed by the lurid eroticism, I’d never experienced anything like it. I could barely hold myself up, but the sight of him practically pussy drunk and groaning was too good not to look at. He growled, his arms wrapped around my thighs and he pushed his face into me, soft prickles of his beard against me made me shake even more and despite wanting to keep watching, I fell back to the mattress.

Suede-like brushes against my clit had me shaking, the tension in my muscles quivering like violin strings. Jesus christ he was amazing, then he sucked softly on my clit, and I was gone, crying out as my hands tangled in his hair, tightening into fists and held him against me. He didn’t stop as I came, his hands moved to my hips, his long fingers splayed across my belly and waist as if he wanted to feel my body move as I buckled.

My hands unclenched, and I shuddered with aftershocks as Marshall stayed where he was, softly licking at my core. I closed my eyes, bathing in the post orgasm euphoria, running my fingers through his hair. He didn’t stop kissing me as he moved up my body and rested a fraction of his weight against me. His hand was warm as he cupped my cheek and covered my mouth with his. I could taste us on his lips and tongue, his beard was soaked too. I was so turned on that after the flavour faded from his mouth, I swept my tongue over his chin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “You taste good, don’t you?”

I hesitated, self-consciousness creeping in and my cheeks burned with embarrassment. Marshall stroked my cheek with his thumb and I opened my eyes and realised that he wasn’t trying to shame me.

“You taste good too,” I said.

He smiled, his lips parting just enough to see his teeth, before he grew a little serious. His hand curled around the back of knee, lifting and opening me again, and he adjusted his body in a way that made me gasp. Poised, and ready, his silky hardness waited, his brows raising just enough to ask the unspoken question.

“Yes,” I murmured.

His mouth was on mine as he slid inside me, our kiss muffling both our moans. We stayed like that, joined and locked together, hungrily swallowing the others whispered words and whimpers. Fingers sought mine, and lacing them together he squeezed, gripping me and releasing me in time with his steady rocking movements.

He knew what he was doing, making sure I could feel every inch of his thick and rigid length, making sure he found that spot that made my breath hitch every time. His breath was coming in harder and heavier, each exhale punctuated by a muted grunt. I couldn’t focus, I had to close my eyes. Fuck, he really knew what he was doing.

“Marshall,” I gasped. I don’t know why I spoke. I was riding close to the edge, any second now and I would fall.

“Yes,” he growled, “Fuck, yes.”

I fell.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Captain Marvel: Part Ten

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: canon violence and angst

Author’s Note: For the sake of the rewrite, Howard and Maria Stark dies on December 16, 1997 instead of 1991. Tony is 23 when they die.

x

Maria knows she has to do this with her best friend, so she calls her parents over to take care of her daughter. Maria tries to come up with an excuse as to why she's asking this, and you and Carol are off to the side with Monica.

"Your Mom's lucky. When they were handing out kids, they gave her the toughest one. Lieutenant Trouble," Carol smiles.

"You remembered!"

Carol had a whole life here without you, and seeing her with her other family gives you joy, but it also brings you pain when you think of how she was taken and the fact that she was taken in the first place.

"Is that mine?" Carol asks, noticing the jacket sitting on Monica's lap. The little girl starts to hand it over, but your girlfriend protests. "Oh, no. You hang onto it until I come back. There is something that I need your help with. I can't wear these Kree colors anymore, and since you're obviously the only person around here with any sense of style, why don't you give me a makeover?"

Carol stands and presses a few buttons on her wrist device that changes the colors of her outfit. Monica reaches over to try and goes through possible combinations such as bright red and grey stripes, orange, blue and yellow, black with neon stripes, and white with green stripes. None of them are the one until Carol sees the outfit Monica is wearing.

Red, blue, and gold.

"Well, since we're on the same team, why not those colors?" 

Monica messes with the device once more, and Carol's suit changes to red and blue with a gold star on the front. This is it. This is the suit and colors that best suit her. She kind of reminds you of Steve when he got his suit, but you push back those painful memories of your best friend.

"How do I look?"

"Fresh," Monica smiles.

"We need to get going. Yon-Rogg will be here soon," you say.

Carol and Monica say their final goodbyes before everyone boards the big aircraft. Talos' science guy stays behind to pretend to be Carol to stall Yon-Rogg for however long. He knows he's going to die when he figures it out, but he's willing to risk his life if it means Talos gets home safe.

Since you're such a terrible pilot, Maria and Carol are at the front while you, Fury, Talos, and Goose are in the back. Fury is petting and comforting the animal while Talos stares at him with horror in his eyes.

"You know, you really shouldn't have that thing on your lap."

"Our little alliance with you is tenuous at best. As long as she continues to freak you out," Fury picks up the cat and shoves her in Talos' face, and the Skrull jerks back in fear, "like that, I'm gonna keep giving her all the love and hugs she needs, right?"

"Can I ask you two something?" Maria asks the two shapeshifters on board. "Do you just turn into anything you want?"

"I have to see it first."

"Those are my rules as well."

"Can you all do it?"

"Physiologically, yeah, but it takes practice and dare I say it, talent to do it well."

"Maria, I wasn't born like this. I was given a serum that gave me these powers, so there is only one of me."

"Can you turn into a cat?" Fury asks Talos.

"What's a cat?"

"That's a cat," you point to Goose. 

"That's not a cat."

"What about a filing cabinet?" Maria asks. 

"Why would I turn into a filing cabinet?"

"I don't know about the Skrulls, but I can only turn into living creatures no matter how small or the kind of species. If it's alive, I can turn into them."

"What else can you do?"

"Well, apart from shapeshifting, I am able to control the four main elements. Whatever you want to call it, I can do a lot of pretty awesome stuff."

"A venus fly trap!" Fury exclaims, still on the topic of shifting into things. "I'll give you $50 right now if you turn into a Venus fly trap."

"Switching engines from Scramjet to fusion. Buckle up, folks," Carol advises.

Everyone buckles up in case something goes wrong, and Carol lurches forward at high speeds. Due to the severe altitude, everyone is pushed back into their seats. The plane jerks like how a commercial airplane would.

"Is this normal? Like space turbulence?" Fury asks.

"Pretty much," Carol answers.

Talos grabs Fury's attention and shakes his head to say that this isn't normal. The plane continues to fly upward, and as soon as the plane reaches just outside Earth's atmosphere, the plane stops producing the flames needed in order to fly. Everything inside the plane starts floating due to the lack of gravity. Yours, Carol's, and Maria's hair float along with a few pens that weren't locked down. If you hadn't buckled in when you did, you too, would be floating in mid-air. Similarly, Goose is floating upside down until Fury extends his arm, which Goose eagerly grabs onto. Then, Maria flicks a switch and gravity suddenly turns on inside the plane.

"Locking in the coordinate grid," Carol announces.

However, the only thing in front of you is an empty pad of space. Maybe the coordinates are wrong or maybe the lab moved because it's not here anymore. 

"Where is it?"

"It's here. It's gotta be here," Talos panics. 

"Is it in front of all that nothing or behind it?" Fury asks sarcastically.

There has to be some reason why the coordinates led you to this empty space. Carol presses some buttons on her wrist device, and the process of decloaking begins. If this is where the coordinates are, and there is nothing here, then it must be invisible.

"Decloaking activated," the computer chirps.

Suddenly, a bright light appears from the empty space, and a massive laboratory becomes visible. The title "Mar-Vell's Laboratory, Kree Imperial Cruiser" appears on the screen inside the spaceship. Carol flies closer to the laboratory only to realize there's a loading dock for incoming ships. Once secured inside, you five leave the ship in curiosity.

"Are we alone?" you ask when you walk into the main room. Across the room is the Tesseract connected to a big machine, and you walk closer to it with tears in your eyes. This is what you've been waiting for for almost one hundred centuries. "I can't believe after all this time, it's been here. I thought this was in the ocean."

"Is that it? The core?" Maria asks. 

"In her notes, she called it the Tesseract."

"This thing made me who I am today. This thing gave me my powers. This thing has been a pain in my ass this whole time!" you yell.

"It's okay," Carol whisper and puts her hand on your shoulder for comfort. 

"No, it's not okay, Carol. This thing needs to be destroyed. All this thing is going to cause is pain."

Carol understands where you were coming from, but in order to understand its power, it needed to be saved. She grabs the cube and throws it in the air only to catch it like it was a fucking baseball and not a killing machine. This thing killed your best friend and boyfriend. 

"Whoa. What was Lawson doing with all this kid stuff?" Maria asks and picks up a metal lunchbox.

Carol takes it from her, places the Tesseract inside, and locks it. You look around and take in your surroundings. There is something about this place, something off. On the glass table near the corner of the room is a mug with steaming hot tea in it.

You aren't alone.

"We're not alone."

Talos begins to sing loudly in his native tongue, and a swarm of scared Skrulls appears from their hiding places. An older one into the arms of Talos. If you had to assume, you'd guess that she is his wife, girlfriend, or sibling. 

"Talos!" 

"Soren," he sighs and hugs her tightly. 

"He didn't come for the Tesseract." Soren calls forth a child, probably her own, and the child makes herself known willingly. Talos leans down to get a better look at the child with a huge smile on his face. "This is his family."

"We didn't know what to do. Mar-Vell warned us not to send a signal for any reason or the Kree would find us," Soren explains painfully.

"You did the right thing," Talos whispers.

When the excitement of the family reunion wears off, Soren notices the group Talos came in with. She grabs her child and holds her protectively, even when Talos calms her down.

"It's okay, it's okay. She's alright. She's a friend. They all are."

"I'm not gonna hurt you. We're not going to hurt you," Carol says.

"They led me to you."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"If only I had known," you sniffle.

"Carol, Y/N, this is war. My hands are filthy from it, too, but we're here now. You two found my family. This is just the beginning. There are thousands of us separated from each other. Scattered throughout the galaxy."

Another Skrull child approaches Carol once she knows it's safe and took her hand. She directs her over to a pinball machine in the corner. The child points to the high score in glowing lights and points to herself to say she won that many points.

"If I played the same pinball machine for six years I'd have some high scores too," Fury comments.

Suddenly, the doors to the lab open and Yon-Rogg and his team march through with determination. Upon seeing the Kree, Fury draws his gun but Minn-Erva already had hers directed at him. She gestures to him to drop it and he has no choice but to listen. Talos put his family behind him but Yon-Rogg couldn't care less about them right now. No, he's only interested in you and Carol. Seeing his bitch-ass face makes you see red, and your eyes shine red like fire as your hands glow the same color.

"Fraternizing with the enemy? Don't be stupid, Y/N, you'll kill everyone here," he points out. It's true. If you used your powers, you'll blow this entire ship to pieces. "What did you do to your uniform?"

"They got in her head. Just like we thought," Minn-Erica says. 

"Oh, shut it, bitch," you growl.

"The Supreme Intelligence will set her straight," Korath says. 

"You can see they're not soldiers, let them go. You can have me," Talos tries negotiating.

"And the core?"

"You lied to me," Carol glares. 

"I made you a better version of yourself. What's given can be taken away," Yon-Rogg grins.

Carol tries as hard as she can to light up her fists, but they shortened out as if someone is controlling her powers from a distance. You notice something on her neck, something like a small device that is suppressing her powers. She doesn't know it's there or else she'd have taken it off a long time ago.

You turn to the other Kree and give them a malicious grin.

"I may not be able to use my fire power, but I have other ones."

The air around all of the Kree's heads begins to thin out while the air in the room stays the same. If they can't breathe, they can't fight. All of them gasp for air and fall to the ground, and you have to hold back your laughter. You're too busy focusing on them that you don't see Yon-Rogg sneak up behind you. He stabs something in the back of your neck, eliminating your powers for the moment.

"I've been waiting for this moment since I first saw you," he whispers.

He turns the device on and sends shockwaves down your body. With both you and Carol out of commission, the Kree can finally get what they came here to get.

When you wake up, you're not in Mar-Vell's ship anymore. No, you're in an all too familiar room with endless glossy floors and lights that descend from above. The man with jet-black hair stands in the middle of the room. Why does he look so familiar? When you think back to where you might know him, your head gets fuzzy and you get the worst headache ever.

Someone or something removed those memories from your head.

"There she is. I've got to say, I'm quite disappointed in you," the Supreme Intelligence says.

"There is no honor. The promise you made to me about honor and responsibilities is all a lie."

"Despite that, you performed well. You got us to the enemy. Thanks to you and jazz hands, those insidious shapeshifters will threaten our borders no more."

"I can't believe I ever thought the Kree would have the ability to change their ways. You're just as bad as Ronan. The Skrulls are just fighting for a home. You want to destroy them for what? Not submitting to your rules? Well, Carol and I won't do it."

You run at the man to attack him, but you go flying into the wall behind you with a flick of his wrist. You stick to the wall like glue so you're not going anywhere.

"It's cute how hard you try," he chuckles. "We needed you on this mission so you could lead us to the Tesseract. The power inside your veins wouldn't allow you to stay away. Plus, it is what you were looking for, yeah? You want to learn more about who you are and what Markus put into your body."

"How do you know about Markus?"

You slide through the sticky wall and come out on the other side where you can watch your memories play back in front of you.

"We know more than you think."

Each memory is of when Markus put you through each element trial. Through it all, the evil look on Markus' face never went away.

"You're no better than him," you turn to face the Supreme Intelligence.

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

Okay, you're done with this shit. You need to escape or else he will keep you here for as long as he wants. You need to escape if you want to help the Skrulls win this war.

"Do you know what the difference between me and Carol is?" The fire within you heats up slowly, and your skin glows with the embers of a thousand fires. "You've been able to control her through the device you slapped on her neck, am I right? Well, news flash, bitch, you can't control me."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[clever-and-unique-name]

Hi i hope you're doing ok today. I wondered if i could ask your opinion or vent a little? I've been working with my therapist on part stuff and learning about my trauma but when i asked her where she thought i was on the dissociative spectrum she said I should do some reading and see what i felt fit best. But I feel like I'm not sure. How do i know if I'm cptsd or did it osdd ?

It sounds to me like your therapist is encouraging you to take a closer look at your experiences with some academic backing which, incidentally, is also what I'd suggest.

CPTSD / OSDD / DID are diagnostic blocks along the dissociative spectrum (which is more of a dissociation blob, really), and I'm generally of a mind that it doesn't matter as much what diagnostic label you fall under, it matters more how you connect with different parts of yourself (or don't.)

All that said, I'm going to drop a big long (LONG) quote from one of my favorite books on the subject, Treating Adult Survivors of Childhood Emotional Abuse and Neglect, under a readmore. Please bear in mind this is an excerpt from one book under one school of thought, not the end-all-be-all of dissociation! It may help you examine your experiences like your therapist wanted though.

Cheers, and best of luck.

DIMENSIONS OF DISSOCIATION

In CBP, we can assess a person’s dissociative process across a series of dimensions: cohesiveness, engagement, embodiment, and level of resources (see Figure 7.1).

We approach this work under the basic premise that everyone has different parts of self that are more or less interconnected. Consider, for instance, the part of you that is your “work self,” versus who you are with your family of origin, versus the part of you that engages with other people at a party or other social event. Cohesive parts of self are able to work together rather fluidly, as a person shifts according to the demands of the situation.

For instance, an executive may have a part of self with a strong drive toward success but notices when that drive begins to interfere with his home life. He is then able to draw on a softer side of himself to reorient more toward his relationships. In this example, the executive’s “work self” and “family self” are relatively cohesive and are able to work together to maintain homeostasis.

However, early trauma can lead to a disconnection among these parts of self. In a person who is less cohesive, these parts may operate in conflict with each other, viewing other parts as weak, untrustworthy, or dangerous. For instance, a person with a dominant part of self who believes that “it is not safe to be angry” might experience irritation or resentment but disconnects from these reactions, discounting the impulse to express anger as “ridiculous.” As these dissociated emotions proliferate, the silenced part may become embittered or begin to simmer with rage.

At the least cohesive end of this continuum of fragmentation, parts of self may not have knowledge of each other and instead will operate in isolation, with little to no communication within the larger system. Generally, more severe early abuse and neglect is associated with more fragmentation in parts of self. Clients who have been diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder (DID) would be at the more fragmented end of this continuum. However, it is important to note that CBP considers “parts” language and conceptualization to be helpful with many survivors of early relational trauma, including many people who would not meet the criteria for DID or another dissociative disorder in DSM-5.

The continuum of engagement refers to awareness of and connection with the external world. The most engaged clients are attuned to their external environment, using all of the five primary senses to interact with the environment. Moving toward the disengaged end of the continuum, some people have a tendency to separate from awareness of their surroundings in stressful situations. They may “space out” or have trouble tracking a conversation. At the farthest end of this continuum, some people are generally disconnected from the external environment and from other people. This can impact memory, narrative, and continuity of experience. For instance, some of our clients have described living for many years in a fog and having limited to no memories of this time period. It is important to note that, for more fragmented clients, different parts of self often fall at different points along dimensions of the CBP components, complicating assessment and treatment planning with these clients. For instance, considering the continuum of engagement, Nicole has a hypervigilant part that is highly engaged with the environment but is anxious and fearful. However, she also has a self-protective part that disengages from the world around her in an attempt to regulate.

The third dimension, degree of embodiment, refers to the ability to connect to one’s body and internal sensations. While external awareness relies on the use of the five primary senses, embodiment draws on a host of other senses such as proprioception (the sense of one’s body in space), equilibrioception (sense of balance), thermoception and nocioception (the perceptions of temperature and pain), and interoception (awareness of sensations within the body). A person who is embodied can utilize somatic sensations to increase awareness of affect, cognitions, and impulses. They are also more able to access parts of self by utilizing somatic means. Thus, body-based therapies that increase somatic awareness can be a means of increasing cohesion among parts of self.

Disembodiment occurs when people are unaware of somatic sensations and are often frightened to focus attention on their bodies. It is not uncommon for us to encounter clients who have disconnected from their internal experience, being left with an intellectual understanding of themselves but a sense of alienation from self. In people who are quite fragmented, one part may somatically “hold” certain memories or internal experiences, leaving other parts disconnected from those experiences. Engagement of the body in treatment is also essential for clients who are highly disembodied, but the pacing must be adapted to allow these clients to remain within their window of tolerance as they slowly reestablish connection with their physical selves.

The last dimension, level of resources, refers to the degree to which clients are able to access parts of themselves for healthy coping. Clients who are underresourced tend to have difficulty tolerating uncomfortable feelings and limited capacity to understand their parts of self as a system. Their parts are often more extreme and are not channeled toward effective current-day living. For instance, on one hand, a self-protective part may tend to act out in rage versus being assertive. On the other hand, a client who has more access to internal resources has at least some capacity to tolerate difficult emotions and some coping mechanisms. She has some capacity for self-reflection and is able to harness the adaptive purpose of different parts of self. She has some understanding of how her personality is constructed and can become curious about, and compassionate toward, her parts of self. This understanding allows her to harness the adaptive purpose of her different parts of self. Clients often develop or gain greater access to internal resources held by different parts of themselves as they progress in therapy.

[drethanramslay]

A Christmas Miracle

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Leah Garcia)

Word Count: 1650 words

Masterlist

Warnings: None, its fluffy 🥰

Author’s note: Woah its been a while since I have posted and I truly apologize for the lack of content on my side🙈 But here I am, completely in my feels because its Christmas!! Merry Chrysler y’all. I hope you like this fic💓

I have decided to take part in @choicesweeklychallenge​ and the prompt is in bold-  “Merry Christmas, here's your gift.”

I am also taking part in @choicesdecemberchallenge and the prompt is Christmas

Song: I was listening to 80′s/ 90′s Christmas songs so you can do that as well

"Leah?"

Ethan's deep voice reverberated down the hallway as he placed his car keys in the funky bowl he had mixed feelings about.

"It will add some colour to our bare house, E." She had said as she patted his arm but all Ethan wanted to do was throw the abomination into the bay.

It was one of Leah's impulsive purchases in the local flea market which Ethan absolutely hated. While the vendor said it was some form of abstract art, it looked like a mangled kidney. At one point it may resemble a bowl but right now, the neon colours just made Ethan's head ache and itch to trash it.

It's better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right?

"Ethan? I am in the living room." Her lovely voice floated towards him as he hung his coat on the hook and sighed as the warmth of the central heating engulfed him in a bubble of warmth and comfort.

Leah was busy setting up the moderate-sized Christmas tree they had near the gigantic windows through which moonlight poured in. The in-built fireplace was raring with a lovely fire, which cast dancing shadows all around their house- a comfortable and large place with plenty of sunshine and tranquility. It was located a little further away from the hustle and bustle of the city but at the same time, it was a mere ten-minute drive to the hospital.

Ethan found the house adequately decorated and was a perfectly acceptable accommodation but according to Leah, it was dull and in dire need of life. But sadly, the long strenuous shifts at the hospital didn’t give them much time to paint the walls or add Leah’s collection of trinkets.

But it has just been six months since we have shifted. I could always take her to IKEA during the three days off for Christmas.

As he walked in and took his beanie and gloves, he noticed that she was wearing his sweater and socks, which caused his lips to twitch with an amused smile.

"You stole my socks this time?"

She turned around and shot him an innocent shrug, an impish smile on her lips. "They are so much more comfier than mine."

He shook his head as he placed his messenger bag in its place. "At the rate you are stealing my clothes, I won't have anything to wear."

She answered without turning towards him. “You say it like it is a bad thing.”

Ethan rolled his eyes and replied, sarcasm lacing his baritone voice. “You would enjoy that, won’t you?”

She turned and placed a hand on her hip and shifted her weight to her right leg. “I take this no clothes policy at home very seriously. You should start doing that soon my dearest husband.”

He chuckled lowly as he headed towards his wife.

His wife... He still couldn't get over the immense joy he felt when he addressed her that. The day when she said yes to be his, was one of the best days of his life. It was not a very big ceremony, only close friends and family had been invited. It was a mesmerizing, joyous and magical day which he could never forget.

The sheer contentment he felt when he looked at the gold band on his ring finger was a reminder of how their souls were intertwined forever and there was nothing which could compare to the rush of emotions he felt.

He placed his large hands on her waist and turned her towards him. She complied and looked up. A radiant smile made its way on her face which caused an onslaught of butterflies in the pit of his stomach. There won't be a day when he won't feel those butterflies when she smiled at him that way.

He reached to cup her warm cheek causing her to involuntarily shiver. "You are cold Ethan," She chattered.

"Care to warm me up?" He asked with a sly smirk playing on his lips.

Immediately Leah lifted to her tiptoes and Ethan bent down so that their lips could meet. It was a sweet kiss of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment.

She pulled back and her hands reached into his brunette locks and combed her fingers through them. "Now that you are here, can you help me with decorating the place?"

"You want to decorate the place? Isn't the tree enough?"

"Just putting on a Christmas tree and slapping some decorations isn't enough! We need to put up stockings, presents under the tree, streamers, candle-"

"Sunshine... That is way too much."

"No, it's not. It's not like we are lacking place in this dry and bare living room-"

"Minimalistic living is an important lifestyle!"

“No, it is a boring lifestyle. I have told you we need to add more colour-”

They bickered back and forth before coming to a compromise which consisted of setting up the tree, the stockings and a few candles here and there.

Ethan grumbled as he placed a red bauble on one of the branches. 90’s Christmas songs were blasting through the speakers to which Leah sang as she hung three stockings above the fireplace with Ethan, Jenner and her names on it. He stepped to the side, out of Leah’s way as she shuffled in with the fairy lights and a gigantic star.

Jenner was in a very merry mood as well. She followed Leah with what seemed as starry eyes, yipping and providing her input every now and then. As Leah wrapped the tree with fairy lights, Ethan stood on the side and watched the entire scene unfold, a smile on his lips.

The way their small family worked together... Made his heart burst with gratitude, happiness and love.

"E, could you help me put the star on top of the tree?"

Ethan was going to follow through but in the last moment, he lifted Leah, causing her to yelp. "Ethan!"

"What? I am helping you."

She shot him a dry look as she placed the star on top. "You think you are very smooth?"

"Only for you, love."

A gentle blush decorated her face as she awkwardly coughed and straightened the invisible wrinkles on his- their sweater.

I should make her flustered more often.

"Uhh… Do you want your gift now? I mean it's already twelve and technically it's Christmas." Leah asked, her eyes glittering like the inky night sky, an undertone of excitement shining like stars.

Ethan cocked an eyebrow, equal parts intrigued and wary. He nodded his head and Leah skipped towards the dining table as if eagerness provided a boost in her step. She reached for a paper bag with snowflakes printed on it and walked back towards Ethan.

“You might want to sit down for this.”

Uncertainty coloured his features as he took his place on the comfortable couch. “Leah… what is going on?”

“Merry Christmas, here's your gift. Open it,” She handed the bag to him and Ethan stuck his hand inside to find his gift. His fingers brushed against a smooth cloth which he clutched and pulled out so that he could scrutinize it better under the bright light of the room.

“Relax my dad is a doctor…” He read it slowly, his heart thundering against his chest, threatening to leap out as the realization set in.

“Sunshine…?” He looked up to see small tears on the edge of Leah’s beautiful chocolate brown eyes.

“Yes.”

“I am going to be a dad?” He asked, disbelief laced as he held the onesie against his chest. He looked at her face then her stomach.

“Yes, Ethan.”

“We are going to be parents?”

Leah chuckled as happy tears slipped down her face. She nodded her head. “Yes, Ethan. We are going to be parents.”

In a split of a second, Leah was pulled into a crushing hug and spun, causing her to laugh and wrap her arms around his neck. “Ethan!!”

“Leah, we are going to be parents.” Ethan whispered to her as he set her down and gazed lovingly into those familiar earthy hues which had come to be his safe place- his home. Leah cupped his cheek. “Yes, E. We would be some bomb ass parents.”

He placed his hand on her lower abdomen, a grin on his face. “I don’t know what that means but I trust it means well. When did you know?”

Leah smiled lovingly and placed her hand over his. “I found out two weeks ago when I had been late for my period. I had a hunch since I had been feeling sicker than usual. I took a blood test and lo and behold.”

“Did you already do the ultrasound?”

“Nope, I was waiting to tell you so that we could go together, tomorrow morning- well technically today-” Leah continued to babble when Ethan interrupted her.

“Leah?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Ethan placed a chaste kiss on her lips, trying to convey all the emotions he was feeling. All the babbling thoughts on Leah’s mind died immediately as his lips engulfed hers in a passionate embrace. He rested his forehead against hers, his arms still around her. “Thank you so much, Leah… I am so blessed to have you and our little creation. I love you.”

“I love you too Ethan. I am so excited to start this new chapter in our lives together. I can’t wait to tell our family and friends.”

“Your dad is going to kill me.”

“Nah, he won’t”

“Well, I would for our daughter.”

“Ethan... we don’t know if it is a girl. For all, we know it could be a boy.”

“It is a fifty-fifty chance and I have a good feeling it is going to be a girl, sunshine. Can’t wait to spoil all my three girls.” Jenner barked in agreeance in the background causing them to laugh.

And for the rest of the night, they celebrated their Christmas miracle in each other’s arms.

I hope you liked it and it certainly was uncharted territory for me to write married AU😅 

Love you all and season’s greetings

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[thereisnochillinsideme]

The rain, Akaashi Keiji part two

I'm sorry it's been such a long time I've just had some stuff going on but here it is, part two. I also think @bakudummy asked to be tagged, if you didn't ask me to I'm sorry please tell me I'll take it off anyway enjoy! Akaashi was currently locked in a debate between himself and himself. While one side was telling him that it would be fine if he visited [Name] and Takahashi in normal clothing while the other was telling him that they weren’t close enough and that he was required to wear a three-piece suit. The first side then argued back that they might think he’s rude if he showed up for a cup of hot chocolate in formal wear. In the end, he decided that after picking [Name] and her cake off the street and getting her to Takahashi’s apartment, what he wore probably mattered the least to either of them right now and settled on a cotton T-shirt. He made his way out of his apartment and knocked on the door to his right, which was opened by Takahashi. He hadn’t usually seen her like this. She had changed out of the pencil skirt she so usually wore to work and was currently in a sweater and leggings. She also looked surprised to see Akaashi in anything but his work wear. She let him in and went back to the stove, where the milk for the hot chocolate was bubbling on the stove. He saw [Name] spread out on an armchair, now changed out of her wet clothes. She saw him and immediately perked up, changing her position to see him better. He took a seat on the couch across from her. She gave him a smile and immediately began speaking to him.

“Stoneface-san! Feeling better?”

“Yes, much better. How about you?”

She smiled. “I’m doing great! I got my cake, I got to meet you, I got to see Yo-chan, and now she’s making me hot chocolate!”

Akaashi smiled at the childlike elation she had at the situation she was in. She was an optimist to the bone.

He was a bit jealous of her, though he didn’t realize it. He was jealous of people like her. They didn’t have a care in the world, complete confidence in themselves. And people like him or Takahashi were following them around making sure nothing happened to them because, jaded and anxious as they were, they didn’t want that optimism to fade. It gave them strength too. It reminded him of the former captain of his high school volleyball team. Bokuto-san’s confidence was a force to be reckoned with and now there he was, playing professionally on a world stage.

Takahashi walked over with two mugs of hot chocolate, setting them on the coffee table that separated him and [Name]. [Name]’s smile grew wider upon seeing the drink and she happily picked it up and immediately took a big sip.

Immediately she started coughing.

“Ah barned mah tahnge.” She said, with her tongue hanging out.

Takahashi and Akaashi started laughing in unison as [Name] also began laughing with her tongue still hanging out.

“Why are you laughing? You burned your tongue?” Akaashi asked through chuckles.

“It is funny,” [Name] said through sips of cold water to soothe her tongue.

Time was spent happily drinking hot chocolate while [Name] told them jokes and stories.

Putting down his mug, Akaashi looked at [Name].

“[Name]-san, I’ve been meaning to ask your full name, as I didn’t get it when I met you.”

[Name] smiled. “[Last Name] [Name]”

Akaashi did a double take. “I’ve been calling you by your first name this whole time? That’s incredibly disrespectful as we don’t know each other well”

“It’s fine, Stoneface-san. I’ve never liked using my surname as it puts a formality barrier between me and who I’m talking to. Please use my first name.”

Akaashi nodded in acceptance. “So [Name], what do you do for work?”

She winked. “If I told you it would be no fun. It’s your job to guess. Your hint is that I’m in the creative field.” After many consecutive wrong guesses, [Name] changed the subject and started telling them what had happened to her at the train station that morning. As they laughed, Akaashi began to realize how much fun he was having.

It had been a long time since he had done anything like this. He maintained a strictly professional relationship with his coworkers and Bokuto-san was not free most of the time with having gone professional. He would come by and have a drink with Akaashi ever so often, but Bokuto-san usually found himself leaving early to spend more time with Shoyo. Akaashi didn’t mind that he was branching out and he knew that their adult life was definitely going to impact their friendship. However, it was not after he lost them that he realized just how much he cherished the carefree days on the volleyball team, how he would chase Bokuto-san around with an umbrella to stop him from getting wet in the rain.

It was probably why he spent so many late nights at work, trying to quiet his mind by occupying it. His high school friends were all busy with their own lives, he felt he should be as well.

“Stoneface-san?” He heard

He snapped out of his daze and saw [Name] staring at him, slightly concerned.

“Are you okay? Your stare was really blank and you didn’t laugh when I told you about when I threw a squid tentacle at the guy who came to collect my taxes.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just feeling a bit tired. I also have some work due tomorrow, so do you mind if I take my leave?”

Takahashi looked at him, obviously concerned, but trying to hide it. “Yes of course, I’ll show you to the door.”

She walked him over to the door of the apartment and opened it, letting him go through.

“Thank you for looking after [Name] today, I’m sorry if she was a bit of an inconvenience. It was nice to have you both over, we should do it again sometime.”

Akaashi nodded, thanked her, and went inside his own apartment.

He didn’t mean to leave so abruptly, but he wasn’t lying, he did have work.

He made his way to the small desk by the window of his apartment and sat down, picking up the large, stapled sheet of paper by his window.

Today, his work was a bit more enjoyable than usual. He was editing one of his more favorite comics that was published in his magazine. Asuma no Sekai was a comic set in a demon world, with the main character being an incredibly lazy demon who preferred eating cake to doing her job. The crazy schemes she pulled to get out of doing her job were sometimes more work than doing the actual job and always made the reader laugh. Editing it was a more favorable part of Akaashi’s week and it never failed to lift his mood. The author was Sakurai Daisuke. He had never met the author in person as he usually sent someone else to pick up his manuscript, but he looked forward to meeting someone who was such a good mangaka.

After spending a couple hours reading, laughing, and editing the work, Akaashi went to bed as he had work the next morning.

[Name] had left on the first train that morning and though Akaashi was slightly mournful that he didn’t get to say goodbye, he continued on with his day like normal.

As the week went by, [Name] occupied Akaashi’s thoughts slightly more than a normal person would. He would pass by the cake shops in his area and wonder if she would enjoy the one in the display window. He was confused by why he was thinking about her so often, but chalked it up to the fact that there were a lot of cake shops in his area.

Later that week, on an afternoon while he was home, Akaashi got a call from his employee, Okomoto Chiyo. She sounded extremely distressed.

“Akaashi-san! I’m so so sorry to bother you!”

“It’s okay, what do you need?”

“My wife is sick and I’m home taking care of her. I was supposed to pick up Sakurai-san’s manuscript today, but Nanako’s been throwing up all day and I can’t afford to leave her now. Do you mind picking it up?”

Akaashi was slightly annoyed, as he had just gotten home. However, he knew that he couldn’t possibly ask his employee to leave her sick wife.

“It’s completely okay. May I have Sakurai-san’s address? At least I can finally meet him.”

“It’s xxx-xxx on the other side of the city. The train will be able to get you there really fast. Sakurai-san should have completed her manuscript by now.”

“Her?” Akaashi was confused

“Sakurai Daisuke is a pen-name. The author is female. She picked a male name to sound more ambiguous.”

“Oh, that comes as a bit of a surprise.”

“Thank you so much for doing this, Akaashi-san! I am forever grateful to you.”

“It’s no problem.”

Akaashi looked out his window and toward the train station which was a couple blocks away. It was raining.

As he turned, his eyes fell on a now-dry neon yellow umbrella. He must have forgotten to give it back to [Name].

He picked up the umbrella, put on a long brown coat, and ran out his apartment door.

He was able to make it onto the train last minute, sitting on the seat in relief. As the train moved along, he thought about what the author might be like.

Thinking about it now, it was fairly obvious that this author wasn’t like most of the male authors Akaashi’s company had published.

There was barely any fan service in the series and the author made sure to write her female characters just as realistic and flawed as her male characters. Most of the male authors drew one woman with an unrealistic body and made her show up every now and then to rip her clothes off and leave. Sakurai-san’s female characters had personalities and all different body shapes, some bigger or smaller, darker or lighter, more like the women he would see in the real world.

The train announced his stop and he walked out, looking at the paper where he jotted down the address.

He navigated his way through the twists and turns until he finally got to the apartment building.

He entered and went to the specified floor and found the correct door.

As he raised his hand to knock, Akaashi suddenly felt a bit nervous to meet this author who he borderline idolized, especially when he found out he was wrong about her gender the whole time.

Nevertheless, his hand tapped lightly on the door twice and he heard footsteps rush to open it.

What he saw behind the door was definitely not what he expected.

[Name] was peeking out, wearing a large animal onesie, holding a plate of cake with a plastic fork.

“Stoneface-san?"

[prettyboyreid]

can you read to me? (I)

part two

Even after a silly fight, the reader can’t seem to go to sleep without Matthew next to her.

College!Matthew Gray Gubler x Reader

Warnings: language, angst

Word Count: 2,884

It had been four hours.  Four, gruesome, long, tiring hours since you first opened the Statistics book to study for your final.  While you were almost sure you were going to pass, an anxious feeling still overwhelmed you  that you weren’t going to.  It made you feel sick.

You picked up your phone and checked the time.  1:54 AM.  You let out a soft groan, rubbing at your eyes with the heels of your hands before deciding to pack everything up for the night.  You closed all of your books, bookmarked your notes on Google Docs, and made sure all of your pens were closed before pushing yourself out of the uncomfortable chair New York University provided for each dorm.  You made your way to the bed covered in a heavy duvet and a weighted blanket before trying to let yourself fall asleep.  

You closed your eyes, you cuddled up to one of your pillows, and even tried counting backwards from one hundred.

Yet you were still wide awake. 

You checked the time again out of frustration as you felt your mind running a mile a minute, letting out a huff as the neon red letters of your alarm clock read 2:28.  You chewed on the inside of your cheek as a thought - a terrible one at that - ran through your mind, grabbing your phone and slipping on a pair of socks before scurrying out of the quiet dorm. 

The dorm halls seemed to stretch out much longer than you’d like, feeling like you were walking down a highway for hours.  You could’ve been convinced easily you walked the entire length of the campus. 

But eventually, you reached a room on the other end of the hall.  A banal door with nothing but the numbers 628 printed on them.  It seemed foreign to you, like you had lost all memory of the dorm since you last stepped into it two weeks ago.

“Jesus Christ, Matthew, I was studying with him!  Jack’s top of the class and I needed some help!” you whisper-shouted at him.  His roommate, thankfully, went home for the weekend, but you didn’t want to risk any of his neighbors waking up at the ungodly hour of three in the morning. 

“It is a big deal whenever he’s practically pulling you into his lap, Y/N,” he said, his hands running back through his messy curls.  You could tell he hadn’t showered or styled his hair that day from how messy it was, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t one of your favorite looks on him.

You huffed in annoyance and folded your arms across your chest, sitting on his bed as you listened to him voice his grievances.  “Do you not trust me enough to even study with a friend?  How many times do I have to remind you that I love you? Not him, not anyone else, only you,” you preached to him, but given your tone of voice, you could see on his face that he didn’t believe you.  He probably thought you saying it sounded more like a chore than a feeling. 

“Besides, you didn’t see me getting all pissed off when you hung out with Lydia at that party last week.  She was practically hanging off of you, and I never said a thing,” you reminded him, which just earned you an eye roll from the tall boy as he leaned against his desk, his palm pressed into the cheap wood.

“That was different.  She was drunk and I didn’t want her to fall over or have some guy she doesn’t know take her home,” he defended himself, watching his carotid pulse in his forehead as he tried to keep his voice down.  You scoffed at his excuses, raising your eyebrows slightly as if to ask if he had anything else to say.

“She literally ogles you every time you walk past her!  She told her friends that she couldn’t wait for you to break up with me so she could have her turn!”

“She was drunk and she’s been my friend since freshman year, Y/N!  People say things they don’t mean when they’re drunk,” he groaned, holding his hands behind his neck as he let out a heavy sigh.  You could practically see the gears turning in his head as he carefully picked out his next sentences word by word. 

“This isn’t about me, it’s about that jackass who keeps trying to hit on you when I’m not around,” he said, folding his arms across his chest as he paced in front of you.  You watched as his bones pressed against his skin out of anger, painting his knuckles white as they gripped onto his upper arms.  “How do you think I felt when my friends texted me to tell me you were out with him instead of you telling me?” he asked, his voice dropping from angry to hurt.  

“I only didn’t tell you because I knew you’d freak!  Just like you are right now!” you exclaimed, standing up from your place on the bed.  “And I don’t know how you felt, because I’m not you.  But I can tell you how I felt when your ‘best friend since freshman year’ was clinging off of you like her life depended on it, and you can tell me how close I am,” you remarked, standing in front of him as if to challenge him.  If it weren’t for your significant height difference, you probably wouldn’t feel so inferior at that moment. 

He let out a huff and sat back on the bed where you were moments before, letting his hands sink into the firm mattress behind him.  His expressions dropped to something unreadable.  “So tell me then.”

You let your eyebrows knit together, your arms still folded across your chest as you barely looked down at him.  “I felt like she was going to drag you off to some trashy room of the frat house and sleep with you, and you’d forget who I was for fifteen minutes.  I felt like you were more interested in her than me, and that I wasn’t enough for you right then,” you spoke honestly, not letting your emotions affect your facial expressions.  You couldn’t seem weak, not right now. 

You could tell he was holding back on a scoff or an eye roll, but you decided to let it go for now and just let him talk.  “You know I’d never sleep with her, Y/N,” he said firmly.  You couldn’t even hold back your own eye roll, picking your jacket up from the hook by his door, slightly annoyed that that was the part he had picked to remark on. 

“I’d never sleep with Jack, either,” you said, watching him quickly scramble up from his seat the second he realized I was about to leave. 

“Wait, wait, wait, Y/N-” he started, but the longer you watched and waited for him to finish whatever thought he had, the more you realized he didn’t have anything to say.  He just wanted you to stay. 

You wished that you could.

“Matthew, I can’t stay around with you if you can’t trust me the way I trust you,” you told him.  You made your way to the door, opening it before leaving and slamming it behind you.

For a split second, you saw his face.  His beautiful, pained face, tears pooling in his bright hazel eyes.

 And it broke your heart. 

You knocked softly in a pattern Matthew had taught you, Morse code for “EAP.”  He wanted to have a secret code for just the two of you so he knew whether or not to answer the door, so he settled on the abbreviation for one of his favorite authors in the world - Edgar Allan Poe. 

You could see the light from his room seeping beneath the crack at the bottom of the door, and you hoped it was him and not his roommate.  After a few minutes of silence, you knocked in the distinct pattern again, running a hand back through your slightly knotted hair as you waited patiently.  

You heard the soft pitter-patter of large socked feet of the hardwood flooring coming from the room, and then the unlocking of the heavy locks that were newly installed in the dorms last year.  You let out a soft sigh as the door opened for you, taking in the sight you’ve missed for two weeks - for fourteen days, three hundred thirty six hours. 

Matthew didn’t look great.  Far from it, if you were being honest with yourself.  You wanted to believe it was because of the stress of finals, but you knew that it probably wasn’t true.  His eyes that were normally accompanied by dark circles were worse than normal, the beautiful brown color you loved glazed over and dull.  His hair was messy and unkempt, and despite being over six feet tall, he seemed shrunken into himself, smaller than someone of his stature would be.  You highly doubted that he had gotten much sleep, knowing how hard and personal he usually took these matters.

“Are you okay?” was the first thing he asked.  He didn’t scold you for knocking on his door in the middle of the night. He didn’t spit at you and tell you to leave him alone or go fuck yourself and the smart kid one floor up.  He wanted to make sure you were alright.  

It gave you a warm feeling in your chest that you hadn’t felt since you slammed this same boring door in his face.

“I… I, uh, can’t sleep,” you mustered out, your words slightly slurred from the lack of sleep you’d gotten the past few days.  You wound the hem of your loose t-shirt around your fingers, waiting for some sort of response from him before he opened his door just a bit more to allow you in. 

“What do you need me to do?”  he asked, closing the door behind you once you were inside.  You couldn’t help but notice his roommate’s side was cleared out, so it was just the two of you in the cold, surprisingly clean room.  You let out a soft sigh of relief, grateful that he had packed up and left sometime before now.  Selfishly, you just wanted him all to yourself right now.

“Can you read to me?” you asked in a hushed voice, chewing on the inside of your cheek.  

Matthew had the best reading voice.  You assumed it was from all of his years in theater, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he had practiced elaborating on voices in his spare time.  Every time you spent the night in his room or he spent the night in yours, he would tell you a story to help you fall asleep.  Most of the time, he made the stories up on the fly, and they could be so ridiculous that you laughed too much to get any sleep.  But your favorite times were when he recited Edgar Allan Poe stories to you.  He tried to make them sound spooky and scary, but his voice was so soothing that it lulled you to sleep every single time. 

“I know it’s probably weird to ask that of you right now, and it might be really awkward too. I can just head back-”

He cut me off with a silent nod, getting into his bed and turning off the lamp before patting the space beside him.  

You were hesitant at first, despite it being the entire reason you came down here, before crawling in next to him.  His arms immediately went around you, his touch being as light as a feather since he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.  When you rested your head on his chest and held him tightly, he let his grip tighten around you in a more protective manner.

“What do you wanna hear, angel?” he asked softly, his voice faltering at the nickname like he had just swore in front of his parents.  

The last thing he wanted to do was make you uneasy, and despite you coming to his room in the middle of the night and cuddling up to him like you were about to lose him at sea, he didn’t want to do anything to make you leave. 

He couldn’t let himself make that mistake again. 

“Can you read me Annabel Lee?” you asked quietly, barely above a whisper.  He leaned his head back against the bed frame, letting out a soft sigh as he nodded.  You heard him take a quiet, deep breath before he slowly began. 

“It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me…”

 His voice was slow and steady, dramatizing each word when necessary while keeping the same pace and tone.  His voice was melodic, and had almost put you to sleep as you listened.  You relished in the trace-like state his voice drew you to, your grip instinctively tightening around him to keep him close.

 “I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

Coveted her and me.

 “And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.”

You looked up at him carefully, trying not to disturb him as best as possible so he didn’t lose his place.  Despite him having the story memorized by heart, he seemed to frequently get distracted too easily.  You noticed that he was focused on something in the corner, and you couldn’t quite tell what it was.  You let your head fall back to his chest, your hand resting just beneath the hem of his gray t-shirt as he continued.

 “The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

 “But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;”

  Your gaze finally adjusted to the dark room as you found what he was looking at finally; it was a framed picture of the two of you, one you don’t think you’ve ever seen before.  You were kissing his cheek and he had his arms wrapped tightly around you, similar to how you were right now, wearing a smile brighter than any star you’ve ever seen.  Someone else had taken it, on the steps of the main NYU building.  It looked like your last day of junior year, before you spent the summer with him in Vegas.  

That was, without a doubt, one of the best times of your life.

 For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea—

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

  You felt your heart shatter all over again as you heard his voice begin to break at the final stanza, feeling one single drop fall onto your hand that rested high on his chest.  

You both pretended that you didn’t notice it.  

You let your eyes flutter shut, replaying the sound of his voice in your head over and over again as it lulled you to sleep.  

As you felt yourself finally overcome with relaxation and drowsiness, you let your eyes squeeze shut tightly as he pulled the blankets over you, making sure you had just enough to be comfortable but not too many to be hot.  

You couldn’t help but relish in the feeling of your heart swelling in your chest at how much he cared to make you comfortable.  You felt his soft, plump lips press to your head moments before your well-deserved rest overcame you, hearing one last thing from the voice so soft and sweet that lulled you to sleep countless times before.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, sniffling as quietly as possible to do his best not to wake you.  You wanted to say something to him, but you could barely even keep your eyes open.  Just before you felt yourself slip into the abyss of slumber, you heard him whisper something - mostly for himself, but you knew exactly who it was meant for.

“Please don’t leave me.”

[vyglitchcraft]

The Hacker X Cavalier Gantz- Neon Spray Paint

Authors note: Erron/The Hacker is by @horrorslashergirl and Gantz is mine also i am not good at writing anything and i absolutely feel bad writing this, this is going to be awkward af

Song Inspiration: New Girl by FINNEAS

Warning: Smut, brief mentions of snuff filming and blood, dub-con, virginity lost/first time, daddy kink

Word Count: 2.2k

“Are you always this prone to bad luck and violence? If so, that’s kind of sad." that's a quote that's stuck in The Graffiti Assassin's head of course that's because if they weren't so violent and unlucky this wouldn't happen.

They looked out the car window as raindrops falls on to the glass calming them down "fuckin' hell it's pretty cold ain't it? I'm surprised that you can keep warm with that hoodie of yours" Gantz crossed their legs and leaned back in the chair, softly sighing.

They met some time ago, Gantz was just finished killing a target but unfortunately they weren't really in a good mood that night. The target had escaped enough time to piss them off which they took out by shredding the target to pieces and unfortunately The Hacker was walking nearby and saw them, Gantz facepalmed themselves at that mistake till this day.

"we're here, let's go" they sighed and opened the door.

It was still raining but the air was nice enough that the can tolerate for a while "Cav stop spacing out, follow me" they nodded and followed Erron

"Yo where are we?" they looked around the building, it was unfamiliar and large. They entered using the emergency stairways and climbed up, reaching the destined floor.

It was easy to realize that this was a hotel but it makes sense that he would do this, wanting to be untraceable and all that. "Do you like it? Paid good money for this" he opened the door to their room and stepped in. The door automatically locked behind them and the room was dark, only letting the light of the streets below to pour in.

"not into the expensive shit but i can deal with it" they sighed, cracking their neck before walking down with him.

"really only one bed? I guess you knew i ain't stayin' here long ay?" Gantz chuckled as they walked to the fridge rummaging for drinks.

The Hacker placed his bag on the desk in the corner of the room, grabbing his phone and scrolling through it before stopping at a message they both had

CG: yo uh Erron i need help with something, can you track down this person for me?

Cyber: what do i get in return?

CG: like i know, we'll discuss it later and I'll think about

Cyber: you better not be late or you're going to get something you won't like

GC: don't worry, I'll get it on time promise, heck I'll share my prize with ya

GC Last seen 03:25 at XX-XX-XXXX

He showed the message to Gantz which they promptly went wide eyed "you forgot didn't you?" a loud "tss" sound came from their mouth, they reached to their pockets and pulled out a stack of money, they counted it before handing it to him "five grand...Is that enough?" the Hacker chuckled behind his mask "sorry doll face but the price got raised for keeping me waiting"

They looked around the room, tongue clicking with nervousness and annoyance "whaddya want me to do? Give ya another grand? Kidnap a girl for you maybe?" he hummed amusingly. Stepping closer to them to place the money on the desk "oh I've got something else in mind baby, and it's not what you think it is" they ran back to the door trying to escape but ending up getting caught by him pulling them by the back of the collar.

"now walk to the bed slowly or I'll make it worse" he kept his hands on their shoulders, forcing them to follow his orders. "you better have those cameras off or I'll gut you like a fish"

"oh don't worry darling, cameras all off, just me and you" he tilted his mask to the side to show a small LED that's turned off, obviously connected to the micro cameras he had imbedded in his purge mask.

"now come here and sit on daddy's lap" he said seductively, they clicked their tongue and followed his order. "this is humiliating" they closed their eyes, refusing to see their reflection.

"Gantz, look at the mirror, this is a punishment afterall" one of his hand traced their hips, moving up to their coat and zipping it off. His hand moved under the shirt they had left and took off the bandages they had on to flatten their chest, he grabbed one of their breasts, rolling the end between his finger tips "guess the rumors are right, you are a new girl, you even got these babies right here, fuck pierced too, tell me how big are they?" under the mask Gantz was more than flustered, they bit their lips as to not let any noise escape "D....They're Ds, i had to wear those so they don't get in the way" they say through gritted teeth, their hands squeezed the bedsheets like a life line.

He took off their top wear, lifting their arms and ripping it off leaving them topless. Their body was lean yet muscular they were covered with bruises and wounds, some old and some new. Their arms were full of tattoos, covering from shoulders to wrists. "what's wrong baby girl? Why are you trying to hide this from me? Are you embarrassed that everyday you get reminded of all the pain you felt? Don't worry, i love it" he palmed their breasts, the other hand tracing the bruises on their waist.

"i just wanna scratch your surface, i wanna feel your all you're grooves, i can be your needle, I'll lick your wounds too, you can be my new girl, just wanna play with you" his voice smooth like silk, they shiver at the feeling, they weren't denying, his voice was soothing and worst of all they needed him inside them.

His hands traced the hemline of their pants before pushing it down to the floor with a thud "naughty girl, you're so fucking wet just from me groping you, do you want me that badly? Guess you paid me late just for me to punish you huh?" the tone he said that in was mocking, laced with venom that stung Gantz's ears "f-fuck you, I'll kill you later" they whispered their eyes shut closed.

He laughed at their anger, resting his head on their shoulder "oh i know you won't, if you kill me, you'll miss me" he pushed inside to of his fingers, moving with a torturously slow pace while his thumb circled around their clit. "Gantz, remember look at the mirror and don't cum until i said so"

They opened their eyes, staring at themselves in the reflection, they couldn't recognize themselves at all. "JUST FUCK ME YA POSH IDIOT! JUST DO IT please"

He wiped their tears that started to pour "shh no need to yell, that wouldn't be fun wouldn't it? I'll give you prize if you be a good girl, sounds good?" they nodded as they climbed off his lap.

They sat between his legs. With a bit of hesitation they unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock. They tilted their mask above their head, enough to block their face from Erron's angle but enough to have access to their mouth. They licked their lips, jacking the cock in their hands and spreading the beading precum that's beading out of the tip. They wrapped their tongue around the base, licking up to the tip where they slowly try to fit all of him inside their throat. The feeling of cold metal against their tounge piercings was driving both of them mad. They jacked their head up and down his length, tracing a zig-zag pattern on the base.

"fuck, you're good, i was right when choosing you, you better take all of me baby girl" he tangled his fingers between their hair, pushing them down onto his shaft. In instinct they covered their mouth with their hand and swallowed. They positioned their mask back like it used to, covering the bottom half of their face.

"i guess i should keep my promise, you've been really good, you didn't even touch yourself, nice" he patted their head, untangling their hair and patting down.

He grabbed their hips, resting them on his lap. They wrapped their arms and rested them on his shoulders "i still hate you, you know? I ain't gonna forget about this just because you touched me good, you'll need to work harder to make me like you" they traced the middle of his mask, tracing their finger down his nose and lips while he grabbed their thighs, slowly grinding them on him.

Erron rested them on the bed, placing himself between their legs. "please go slowly, it's my first time" their voice barely a whisper. He cupped their mask tilting their head to look at him "don't worry darling, daddy's gonna be gentle with you"

Erron rubbed the tip to their opening, slowly inserting himself about halfway through. Gantz winces in pain while trying to get used to his size "are you alright? I'll start to move" they nodded.

He moved in a slow pace at first "you're doing good, fuck you're tight, you're practically sucking me in"

Of course with The Hacker nothing can be wholesome, not even for a while "I'm going to BREAK YOU" Gantz's eyes went wide as Erron sped up his pace making rougher.

"NO NO WAIT DON'T!" they tried to stop him but can't. He holds their hips with a tight grip surely leaving bruises the next morning.

Their breaths were heavy as the pain started to turn into pleasure. One of his hands cupped their one of their breasts while he moved his mask away from his mouth to suck and lick on the other, swirling around the sensitive bud.

With a scrape of the teeth, Gantz's back arched with a sharp inhale. They wrapped their legs around him as he pounded their pussy into an overstimulated mess. They circled their clit with their pointer finger trying to reach their orgasm.

As Erron noticed, he grabbed their wrists "i said no cumming until i say so" holding both of their wrists together in one hand he raised it up above their head but by accident it had hit one of the filter of their mask, taking it off of them.

As soon as they noticed they hid their face behind their hands "NO, don't look at me! Let me put it back on please!"

Displeased, Erron grabbed their wrists harder, successfully putting them above their head. Their face was as clear as day, with the lights from outside making them seem to glow. He moved their bangs that covered their eye now being able to see their dual colored eye but that doesn't seem to be the thing that saddened them, in the left corner of their mouth was a small scar and bruise and a larger scar coming from the bottom right of their cheek and almost reaching the corner of theri left eye and over their nose. They looked tired, black circle around their eyes, seemingly busted lips, bruises on one eye and lips.

"What's wrong? Afraid i won't like you cuz of your face? Well it fits you doll face" they looked shocked, they tried to look for a hint of sarcasm in his eyes but couldn't "it's not about that, it's to hide my identity and shit, and ya got cameras on ya that can give ya evidence, and i don't know what you'll do with that info!"

"Stop lying baby girl, it's obvious you're trying to hide it from me, though you are smart about not trusting me but believe me when i say i have them off" he smirked, planting a kiss on their lips before moving down to their neck.

He started to gain pace, as rough as the last one but now the pain was gone. They closed their eyes and letting quiet moans spilling out from their lips.

Sloppy sounds of skin hitting eachother filled the room. A concoction of cuss words can be heard from one another.

Erron's rhythm started to get uneven, his grip on them was tightening. "i-oh god, fuck I'm gonna cum!" they said between sets of moans and heavy breathing. "shit, go ahead cum for daddy" he bit down ons their shoulders and sheathing himself to the hilt.

Seconds had passed before he pulled out, letting the cum and blood spill out from them.

"i guess i can tolerate you for a bit longer" their voice was slurred, they closed their eyes, letting their tiredness to knock them out.

"sleep tight princess" he nuzzles their face and slowly resting them right on the bed.

The next morning their body was aching, they grabbed their phone on the night stand besides them "huh? Wait a sec I'M GOING TO BE LATE!" they threw off their blanket, trying to stand up before being stopped by Erron.

"Don't worry, payed your boss. I said i needed you to help me film a girl getting gutted but it was just so you can stay with me this weekend" Erron was leaning on the desk, fully clothes and ready for the day. "Yo if my capo founds out he's gonna kill you" he patted their head to calm them down.

"Don't worry he's not going too, now what do you want for breakfast?" he grabbed the room service menu and handed it to them, they looked at him with suspicion even tilting their head "why are you even doing this? You usually just left the girls you fuck so what's the difference?"

"Cuz you're mine, and no one can take you from me"

[imtryingmyfuckingbe]

And If This Is It

Third chapter in a short series.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Mentions: Jess, Sam, Charlie, Cas, Gabriel, Jo, Jules (OC)

Trigger warnings: Excessive alcohol consumption; puking

I am the sole author and reserve the rights to my work. However, I am not the owner of Supernatural as a franchise, or the characters including, but not limited to: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Gabriel, Jo, Jess, or Charlie.

CHAPTER THREE:

“Shots?!” Jules shouts over the deafening music.

He passes a tiny glass of clear alcohol to Y/N and Charlie. At this point, neither know if it’s tequila, gin, or vodka. At this point, neither truly care.

Carter’s, the hole-in-the-wall dive tucked between a pawn shop and convenience store, housed the trio every Wednesday night. When unable to convene outside of work any other time of the week, they at least have their sticky booth and cheap booze to fall back upon. If Y/N had half the mind to care, she could bet the shady owner had an unsavory side business that allowed for such decently priced alcohol. But she doesn’t have half the mind. The sharp air intoxicates her even before the first drink, drawing her attention elsewhere. Plus, Jules always arrives first to claim their usual seats, a round of drinks at the ready. Tonight, he focuses on shots.

They clink their glasses together, slam them on the grimy counter, and tip them back. Charlie cheers, her flushed cheeks pushed back in a sloppy, wide grin. Her laughter bellows into Y/N’s chest, forcing her to join in. The tribulations of the past seven days wash away with each new shot. Her mind only wanders as far as Jules across the table and Charlie next to her. Nothing mattered right now, not unrequited love or shitty jobs.

“So! So! Then I said, I said! I don’t care what those bitches think. I’m— I’m a good server, ya know? And I told James— “

“—Jason,” Jules supplies.

“—Yeah, that one. I told Jason to stick it!” Charlie slurs, recounting her meeting with their boss.

Y/N cocks her head at Charlie, who white knuckles the table to stay steady. “Did you really?” She speaks slowly, the words catching on her heavy tongue.

“No. But I thought it. So it counts.”

Jules and Y/N share a look. “Sure it does.”

Out of the three of them, Jules holds his liquor the best. He drinks anyone under the table, and still gets up for work without a grueling hangover. Y/N took Thursdays out of her availability because she doesn’t have his stamina. It took only two shifts filled with headaches and poor service for her to realize she cannot power through the dehydration and pain. Wednesday nights take it out of her, and the following morning includes a date with her toilet and a bottle of Pedialyte. Trying to keep up with Jules, which she foolishly does, is a signed, sealed, delivered death sentence.

She happily accepts it, for it means quality time with her friends.

“Listen, missy. You listen here! You don’t get to talk about— about thinking things and not saying them!” Charlie accuses. Y/N holds up a hand in protest. “No! I don’ wanna h-hear it.”

In just a few words, the thoughtless cocoon Y/N made shelter in crashes to the ground, bringing up debris and Dean’s face. His freckles. His lips. The things she wishes she could say— I love you, I want you, I need you— taunt her, dancing across her mind and scuffing up the floors. “Yeah? Well I don’t wanna talk about it!” She all but shouts.

Charlie huffs. “Fine.”

Jules says nothing, simply peering at his two best friends with mild concern in his glossed over eyes. Y/N avoids his gaze, instead choosing to watch the desolate street through the frosty glass. Charlie waves her hand to the waiter to call for another round.

With new shots in front of the respective drinkers, the tense silence dissipates quickly, easy conversation about what each other missed taking its place. Jules relays the details of his third date with Alice, a girl he served once. She left her number and on a whim he decided to text her. The thirty percent tip she left helped her case, too. The two get along great, from what he says. They share similar interests, including early morning trips to the gym and pretty much any physical activity. At the thought, Y/N shudders. She reserves her mornings for her bed and coffee.

As Jules carries on about the lovely Alice, Y/N finds herself thinking down a stark path. It travels away from Carter’s worn booths and blaring music, finding solace in scratching concrete and big hands. Some days, she truly wishes she could call Him her boyfriend. Some days, she only wishes to be near Him. Right now, it’s the latter. The too-loud conversations around her, the thick air, the heavy warmth in her belly; it makes breathing a chore.

Charlie grabs her wrist, pulling her over-worked thumb from her teeth. The crevice between her nail and skin bleeds. Out of her head now, she realizes her friends stare at her, conversation ceased. Jules’ eyes bore into hers, and she can feel Charlie staring at the side of her head.

She doesn’t have to ask what crosses their minds. Their faces paint light worry and their questions clearly. Y/N sighs, head dipping to focus on the empty glass before her. Neither of her friends say anything, allowing her to trudge through her hazy thoughts.

“I…” she starts, but shakes her head. Needing a something to center her, she throws back her head and swallows another shot. It burns, but it reminds her she is alive and well. Well enough, at least.

Charlie only knows what an inebriated Y/N shared once, and she assumes Charlie happily passed on the message. Even still, the words halt in her throat. Charlie interlocks their fingers, giving a squeeze. It’s okay, Y/N knows she wants to say. “I need some air.”

Not awaiting a response, she drops Charlie’s hand and alights from the booth. Concentrating on walking, Y/N works her way through the crowd to the door. The cooling air of the night caresses her cheeks, relieving some of the heat from her skin. The car-lined road before her, adorned by dim streetlights and neon store signs, appears in double. Cigarette smoke wafts to her nose.

She turns towards the scent. Sober Y/N would never smoke. The taste lingers on her tongue days after, plaguing anything she drinks or eats. However, Drunk Y/N, riddled with anxiety and one too many shots, craves it.

A woman clad in little clothing leans against the worn brick, cigarette balanced between her fore- and middle finger. Y/N stumbles the few feet to her, her body moving before her thoughts. The lady looks up. Her tired eyes trail over Y/N’s body, taking in the sight, ending at her face. Y/N tries to imagine how she looks.

“Can I bum a smoke?”

Wordless, the woman passes Y/N her pack of menthol and a lighter. Nodding in thanks, she lights the cigarette and draws a deep breath in. Sweet relief. She sighs contentedly, handing the pack and lighter back. In silence, Y/N joins the stranger in leaning against the wall. Drunken camaraderie over a bad habit makes the world feel smaller; friendlier.

Here she stands, a mess. And here some straggler stands, someone she’s never met, probably going through her own shit. People are small, in the grand scheme of things. The big picture. Everything feels silly, like a cosmic prank, wherein God will jump from the sky and yell, “Hahahah! Happiness is not a by product of existence, you simple minded fucks. I made you to suffer.”

She wouldn’t be surprised, not anymore. Some days, her heavy bones and even heavier head weigh her down so much, all she can do is suffer. Suffer through schooling; a dead end job; a wistful love; a bleak future. Perhaps God created her as suffering; not a person who could, but a person who is.

A long drag from the cigarette clears her mind. She reminds herself that her sidewalk existential philosophy is only wise by proxy of this night’s poison.

Flicking the cigarette, she nods her head in thanks. With a clearer head, the double vision subsides. Still, she sways as she walks back to the door of the bar. Bracing herself, she pushes it open. Music, this time a familiar song she can’t place, wraps its comforting fingers around her heart. This is where she is meant to be: sandwiched between the tacky wall and Charlie, sat across from Jules.

Charlie stands as Y/N comes into view, allowing her to take her seat once more. The conversation continues seamlessly, as if  Y/N never left. Jules and Charlie keep the side glances to minimum, instead focusing on another round— this time paired with glasses of water— and what Jules’ should do next with Alice. Deciding to solely focus on her friends before her, Y/N utilizes her remaining energy on keeping up with the conversation.

“I mean… she seems to like you a lot, dude. Who the hell… else would get up at five to go on hikes?” Y/N slurs, raising her voice.

“A crazy, person! She’s crazy.” Charlie whispers with a shake of her head.

Y/N laughs, downing another shot. “Yeah, well, either way, she likes it, ya’know? She likes it!”

They dissolve into a fit of body-rocking, soul-shaking laughter. As it peters out, the energy follows suit. Y/N hits a wall, her shoulders sagging with a sigh. “I’m— I’m gotta go, guys. My eyes are gonna fall out.”

“Wait! Just one more shot. C’mon, Y/N/N! One for the road,” implores Jules.

Ever the bad influence, Y/N agrees. In the back of her head, she hears her sober-self admonish her. She pushes it away while Jules waves his pointer finger for another round. Grace, the waitress, already has three ready. Used to their antics as their usual server, she also drops the bill.

Clink, slam, gulp.

Y/N slaps a twenty on the bill, knowing it covers her portion of drinks. Charlie scoots out of the booth again, staying standing to wrap Y/N in a bone-crushing hug. The scent of vodka and Daisy fills Y/N’s nose, covering every piece of her in Charlie. Jules envelopes her next. Her cheek rests against his chest, and he sets his chin on her head. They hold each other for a moment before pulling back.

Y/N leaves her friends to settle the rest of the bill. Escaping into the night, she embraces the cool air. However much she finds solace in Carter’s, the stuffy heat paired with the little room to move constricts her. Even on the now empty street, her chest refuses to loosen. The returned double vision surely doesn’t help.

“Walk,” she mumbles, commanding herself to just fucking go.

Normally, she would call a ride service right about now; or she’d stick around with Jules and Charlie to ride with them. But right now she needs the freedom of the seedy side streets and open sky above her. Four doors and a short roof would only further agitate her.

So, for the sake of her sanity, she makes her way down the street. Having walked these streets many times, Y/N’s feet carry her, rather than she commanding them. As she works her way towards the main road, the lights become brighter and cleaner; trash slowly dwindles in the gutters until they’re as clean as they can get in this part of the city.

At the intersection of Boulder and Hamilton, she stops. Going left would lead her home, a destination twenty minutes away. Going right would take her to Dean. Her body decides before her mind. Five minutes and a few turns, she stands on Dean’s stoop.

Her heavy fist raps against the wood while she leans her forehead against the cool service. Eyes closed, Y/N focuses on slowing her breathing. The edges of a panic attack creep into her mind. Why am I here? Why am I here? Why am I—

The door opens, taking from Y/N her support. Without it, she falls forward, preparing to meet the unfriendly catching of the floor. Instead, warm, bare arms wrap around her waist. “Y/N?” Dean asks in his deep, gruff tone.

God, I love your voice. The thought crosses her mind before she can stop it.

“Oh, do you, now?” Dean teases, righting her on her feet but keeping his hands on her shoulders.

Fuck.

“Shuddap,” she scolds.

“What are you doing here, Y/N/N?” He moves a hand from her shoulder to grasp her chin, pointing her face to look at him.

She leans into it. “Drunk.”

Dean chuckles, a warm sound that pushes any anxiety out of her mind. He has that way about him. “I can see that. Here, come inside so I can close the door.” She does as he asks, still leaning into his touch. He leads her to his couch, guiding her gently down onto the cushion. Resting on his knees in between her legs, he examines her face again.

She tries to look him in the eyes, she truly tries, but their overwhelming jade and the smell of his shampoo and his hands and that little grin and— and— and. The list goes on forever. In the dim room, lit by the outside lights and the paused TV, she wants to fall into him. Her fingers itch to grab his stupid stubbled cheeks and bring his stupid plump lips to her own. Her heart threatens to jump straight from her chest and into his hands. Her skin prickles where his forefinger and thumb hold her chin.

“Traitors,” she mumbles.

“Hm?”

Y/N shakes her head, causing Dean to release her chin. Dammit. “Nothing. I’m just— I’m so drunk, dude.”

He laughs again, sending a wave of peace over her body. “Yes, I know. Let’s get some water in you.”

Water sounds like a great idea, just the mention causes Y/N’s mouth to dry, readying for the coolness to coat her throat and fill her stomach. While Dean pours her a glass, she better settles against the sofa, shifting until her back rests against the arm and her legs splay out before her. The cold of the leather raises goosebumps, but it grounds her.

Dean returns with a stainless steel tumbler, placing it on the cushion by her hip. He lifts her legs and rests them upon his thighs as he too settles into the couch. Arm rested on the top of the couch and eyes caressing her flushed cheeks, he awaits for her to speak.

Every thought racing through her mind pleads to blurt out “I love you!” in some form or another. Taking a long, refreshing sip, she swallows the water and her heart. The hand gently kneading her calf provides almost enough courage to cast aside her inhibitions, but instead she listens to the voice in the back of her head. Why ruin something great? Why risk it?

Pussy, her warring side jabs.

Shaking her head, she removes her gaze from his and unto the television. “Die Hard?”

He waits a beat before he speaks, “Yes. How are you feeling?”

“Like there’s two John… John McClanes on the TV, which means two Hans Gru—bers, and I… I dunno if I can watch that.”

Glorious, golden, all-compassing laughter. “Well, I’m sure the McClanes will be fine; twice the firepower.”

Y/N can’t stop herself from returning to gazing at Dean. The lights from the kitchen silhouette his face, but she sees it, nonetheless. Knows it like its her own, for she sure has stared at him long enough. His seemingly perpetual little grin pushes his cheeks up the slightest bit. He looks so young.

With little thought or permission, she reaches a hand out to brush against his cheek. The barely present beard tickles her palm. Dean’s eyes flutter shut, and he nuzzles further into her hand. If only she could stay like this, legs across Dean’s, hand on his cheek, eyes closed.

“Dean…” she whispers, mostly for herself. Her heart will never get used to sitting so close to him, a beacon on her worst of days and a partner on her best.

“Hm?” he asks, still leaning into her touch.

It takes everything from her, her willpower, her bones, her chest, her lungs. She can’t stop herself for much longer, she knows. And, the thing is, her traitorous body doesn’t protest. Nothing in her says to stop; everything in her begs— no, screams at— her to grab him and hold him tight. To never let go.

As she leans forward, her left hand reaching for his other cheek, the tumbler clatters to the floor with an unforgiving clang. They both startle back, Y/N drawing her legs from his lap and Dean finally opening his eyes. The withering stare she casts at the stupid bottle should shatter it. Instead, it stays whole and mocking. She reaches down to right it, her knuckles white as she harshly slams it onto the floor.

The lights seem to bright, now. The throbbing in her head makes its presence better known, pulsing the picture of John McClane leaning over a sniper rifle. Bile rises in her throat.

“Fuck,” she barely gets out before bolting from her seat and running for the bathroom. Way to ruin the moment, you monkey.

Y/N grabs the edge of the toilet with one hand, gathering her hair into a mock ponytail with the other. At the sight of the bowl, her stomach instantly lurches. With the little she had to eat, mostly burning alcohol makes a return, accompanied by some nachos and fries.

A set of hands replace her’s in her hair, allowing her to better grasp the toilet. Dean settles behind her, bracing her sides with his thighs and whispering unintelligible comforting words in her ear. With his free hand he rubs her back, up and down her shoulder blades to her lower back.

No longer retching, she wipes her mouth toilet paper. Her body still shakes, skin clammy and hot. She crosses her arms over the seat, resting her forehead against her forearms. Dean continues to massage circles into her skin. “I’m sorry,” she mutters, to the bowl and to Dean.

He releases her hair, instead choosing to pull her from the toilet and into his chest. Together, limbs wrapped endlessly, Dean leans against the wall and she leans against Dean. “Nothing to be sorry for, Y/N/N. C’mon, you’ve seen me completely plastered.”

She tips her head to the side, resting it against his shoulder. “It’s gross. Not cute. At all.”

His chuckle rumbles against her back. “Nah, you’re always cute.” It’s barely a whisper, if she weren’t next to his mouth she’s sure she wouldn’t have heard it.

They sit in silence, breathing against each other. Y/N revels in the coolness of the ground and his arms around her waist.

“Why’d you drink so much, Y/N/N?”

Her sighs heaves her shoulders. “I dunno. Why do you drink, Dean?”

“Sometimes to forget things.” He keeps his voice level, but Y/N knows him well enough to see he worries for her. The implications of his statement do not go unnoticed.  

She shakes her head. “I just have a lot going on. Plus, it’s Wednesday. You know that’s my night with Jules and Charlie. We drink. It’s what we do.”

“Okay. Just checking. Let’s get you to bed, kid.”

[tkhoshiwritesanddraws]

This Is Bad || Levi Ackerman X Reader || AU AOT Fanfiction

Summary: Student (F/n) (L/n)'s sense of admiration soon becomes infatuation for the seemingly cold-hearted Sir Levi Ackerman. And it should have stayed that way until he starts going to her part-time job every night to see the person he assumes her to be. With her entire life in jeopardy, can she keep up these unrequited feelings?

Genre: Eventual Romance, mentions of bullying, traumatic pasts

Warning: This is not a one shot.

____

(F/n) (L/n) - First name Last name

(U/n) - Undercover name

(e/c) - eye color

(h/c) - hair color

The day was as uneventfully thick and bright. He used to long for such light, but seeing it over and over just felt irritating now. He sighed. A deep, long, and heavy exhale lightened the ache in his back. He leaned against his chair and looked over the scene before him.

It was nearly four in the afternoon- a few minutes left before he was free to rest. For half an hour. Then he was going to check on the brats‘ essays, which he hoped was given at least two shits about. Another heavy sigh slipped past his lips at the thought of checking shitty essays. Again.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing full well that it was going to happen. Especially with students that knows only how to talk and not write. It was their senior year- you would think that they’d actually pull their heads out of their asses.

“Sir Ackerman, are you alright?” His tired, silver eyes shot up from his desk and met the piercing, kind (e/c) eyes. (F/n) (L/n). She wasn’t a well-known student- rather the opposite.

He remained quiet and stretched out his hand for the paper in her hand. He saw the hesitation in her eyes, but then she reluctantly passed the test to him. Just then the bell rang and one after another, students stood up.

“I can…” Levi paused from his movement to stand up to look at (F/n). His brow raised at the jittering girl. “…take the papers, if you don’t mind, Sir?”

He paused for a brief moment. But he saw the genuine glow in her eyes. “Be my guest.” He waved her off and took a relaxing seat back. He watched her bounce from one empty desk to another, picking up the papers that were left behind.

(F/n) was one of the students he could actually stand. Aside from some others- she just looked true and real to him. He had just transferred last year and knew that he was one of the teachers that students would bet on be the worst, yet she kept trying to get on his good side.

Which luckily for her was working. Her company felt soothing and eased up his stress. He’d rather relax in his seat than go over the same rows of desks for the fifth time of the day.

“(L/n), don’t you prefer being with other students at this time of day? Or resting at your home?”

These were the words that were still stuck in his throat for the past three weeks since the first semester started. He felt the rush of heat spread across his cheeks and he was damned to let a student know that he was affected a bit too much.

So, instead, he prepared a snack for her. He had seen her eat it a few times at the cafeteria- the cursed, germ-filled cafeteria. He pulled the snack out from his bag. It was a (favorite snack). It wasn’t one he loathed, but it wasn’t one he loved either.

Now, if only he can give it to her discretely-

“Sir, what’s that you have over there?” Levi slammed the snack back into his bag and snapped his neck at her. The stack of test papers was laid neatly on his desk and (F/n) was standing just across him.

Why was he acting like an adolescent? It was just a small gift. He gave gifts to people he found likeable.

“I just brought this for you.” He finally caved after five grueling minutes. He placed the snack just beside the papers and watched as the sparkles gleamed in her eyes. A joyful glee branched out from within him at her warm grin.

“Thank you so much, Sir!” She bowed at him. He noticed that she had looked down at her watch. It was 4:30 now. “I better get going. Thank you again, Sir! You should get going too!” She sprinted out before he even said anything.

He should have been irritated, but a chuckle slipped past his lips. He shook his head. (F/n) reminded him of Isabel during his high school days. It would be nice to be 18 again and not 23.

--

The night was dark and damp. The neon lights provided enough glow for her (e/c) eyes to see the building. It wasn’t as run down as she expected it to be and looked decent and clean enough. In actuality, she shouldn’t even be there but it was her last year anyway- so it shouldn’t be a problem. Right?

She swallowed nervously while she glanced around the building. Round wooden tables were scattered about filled with huge burly strangers or press cleaned suited workers. Waltzing around were women who were either showing a lot of their skin or not at all. A single black apron with the name ‘Night Club’ covered their front, mostly enough to show some cleavage.

Standing on the only stage was a man dressed extravagantly who was singing an 80s song she wasn’t really familiar with. Dancing along with him were similar dressed men and women boldly dancing and showing lots and lots of skin.

And there she was, 5”0 and in her pajamas (a random t-shirt that hung over her small body, grey sweat pants, and sandals), standing in the midst of it all. Her fingers nervously tugged the tips of her (h/c) hair as her anxious eyes searched around the room. No one paved way to acknowledge her having their attention focused on the bright colored stage.

“Is that my adorable niece, (F/n) (L/n)?” Hearing her uncle’s nasally drunk voice sent the heaviness on her chest and nervous critters in her stomach away.

“Uncle Oluo, what took you so long?” She asked, placing a strand behind her ear. “And stop saying my name out loud. How would it make you feel if I called you Oluo Bazado with a room filled with strangers?” Her anxious eyes still surveyed the area where she noticed that some began to stare at her after her uncle’s rather loud introduction.

He waved his hand and slurped a beer. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, my ever-adorable niece! I had to take care of a drunk customer and kick him out the back after assaulting one of my workers.” (F/n) pursed her lips as her uncle’s arm made its way around her neck and began dragging her to the back room of the building.

Why couldn’t she have some of his height huh? 

“Huh. No wonder you’re drinking. He got you pretty hard?” She chuckled at his poor excuse of a glare and rolled her eyes. “Am I going to be up front and be taking care of the big guys?” She straightened her back and punched her right palm in a lame attempt of looking tough. Of course, she knew didn’t look at all scary. She was 5”0 with a thin figure and puffy cheeks. She looked far too ‘frail’ and adorable (no quotation marks there because she is adorable. Period.).

Oluo laughed and shook his head. “Oh no, no, no. They’re just going to become more louder with you up front! You’re just going to be working behind the bar with Gunther. He’ll teach you everything you need to know about handing out drinks.”

(F/n) looked over where her uncle was pointing. There was a man handing out drinks from behind the counter. He had a weird tip at the back of his head, which must be his hair, though it looked sort of great on him. He was in a white formal shirt under a black vest from where she could see.

Can she even reach the counter????

“I already placed an extra flooring for you.” Her uncle said right before she could ask.

She scoffed, a light smile spreading across her face. “Of course, you did. If you hadn’t, I’d have no choice but be up front.”

Oluo laughed and patted her head. “I’m sure you can hold your own but I don’t want any more rough- housing than we already have here.”

(F/n) hummed. She knew that. Because of her small figure and all.

The man behind the counter noticed their approach and waved at them. “Good evening, Boss! And this must be my new co-worker.” His voice was thick and deep- much to be expected from his size. He grinned down at her and offered a hand. “My name is Gunther. You are?”

She stretched out her hand and shook his, offering a smile. “(F/n), but I’ll be going with (U/n). ‘Boss’ filled you in about that right?” She tilted her head to her uncle and Gunther nodded.

“Yep, to the brim too. He doesn’t stop chatting about you and your cousin.”

She looked up at her uncle and rolled her eyes to look back at Gunther. “Of course. That’s him. He doesn’t shut up about this place too.” She resisted the urge to glower at Oluo. “No matter how many times I told him to stop.”

Gunther laughed and patted Oluo on the shoulder. “How is she even related to you, Boss?”

Oluo’s face squinted, quite offended at the question and shoved him. “Get back to work and teach this shrimp how things work here.” He shoved (F/n) as well after his statement and stalked off, gulping down his beer.

After a few minutes of staring at the drunken mess of a Boss, her new co-worker coughed. “Right, well. I think it’s time for you to get started. Observe how I do things first and then I’ll let you try.”

__

Author: Thank you so much for reading. If you like the story- you can find this in Quotev, Wattpad, and Webnovel. Search the title- if not the title, you can simply search TKHoshi in all sites and my username will come up.

The art is mine ^^

[nero-spardas]

title: last night.

pairing: steve harrington x reader.

description: when having nightmares about the events of last night and the mind flayer, steve takes it into his own hands to comfort you. 

warning[s]: mentions of violence/gore, season 3 spoilers.

author’s note: i haven’t written a fic in months so bear with me, this is super short and shitty!!!! i am just trying to get back into writing tbh. i’m also accepting sfw/nsfw requests! 

When your eyes flutter open, you’re greeted with the dark shadow of the Mind Flayer’s figure as the neon lights of the Starcourt Mall glowed across it. It reminds you of a spider, standing on all of its legs and skittering around the Starcourt Mall’s floor. The only difference was, this spider wasn’t killing the bugs that snuck through the floorboards into your ranch-style home; the Mind Flayer was here to kill you and everyone else in Starcourt Mall, and ready to take the battle to the rest of the world. 

Staring up at it, you felt as if your bones had been frozen in place. You couldn’t move, the feeling of a black hole expanding in your lungs. It was similar to the feeling of being strangled; you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t do anything. You were powerless as your gazed at the dark figure, knowing it was only a matter of time before it sucked the life out of you, just like it had with Billy.

Before you knew it, that moment was sudden as your vision was consumed by darkness, one of the Mind Flayer’s arms attaching itself to your face. You could feel the mouth of it piercing its way through your flesh, the world becoming dark and limb among you. 

You couldn’t stop the loud scream that escaped your lips, the Starcourt Mall fading as the interior of your bedroom took over your vision, your body jolting forward from your mattress. Your heart racing and thumping a war drum in your ears, you could feel the movement of your boyfriend stirring next to you as you attempted to catch your breath. 

“Y/N? You’re okay – everything is okay!” Steve’s voice echoes into your ears, a sensation of relief surging through your veins as you feel a pair of arms wrap themselves around your chest. 

The squeeze of his arms is gentle, a nice change to the touches you’ve exchanged within the recent days. The most memorable is running into the Starcourt Mall with the Party kids, spotting him sporting a black eye and a bloody face after being stuck in a secret Russian base for a day and getting his ass kicked again, in his own words. You’d ghosted your fingers over the black eye, gentle enough to see the damage but not cause any more pain than he already was feeling. 

“Everything is okay, I promise.” Steve’s soothing voice pulls you out of your thoughts again, causing a sigh of solace to pass your lips. 

Leaning your head back, you lean it against his chest before tilting your head upwards, meeting his gaze. “Sorry, I don’t know what happened – it’s not a big deal, I promise.” You chuckled lightly, attempting to downplay the scene. 

Deep down, you knew there was no reason to be scared; sure, you had witnessed what had happened to Billy and knowing what lurks in the world terrifies you, but it terrifies everyone. It terrifies kids younger than you and you figure if they’re able to sleep through the night, then you should be able to. 

“It’s a big deal if you’re screaming and kicking me.” He grumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You raise your eyebrows at the words kicking me, before rolling your eyes at his next sentence. “I swear, I’m gonna have a bruise on my leg.”

“I think you need one to match your other eye.” You mumble softly, earning a laugh from your boyfriend. 

“I think having a bruised leg is enough for the night.” He sighs, lifting one of his arms up from your chest before running it down his face. “You sure you're okay, babe?” 

There was one thing you had learned about Steve when you first started dating, and that was: he was protective. When it boiled down to anything, you were always the number one priority. Whether it meant having a spat with a teacher or your car breaking down on the interstate, he was always there for you and always wanting to make sure you were okay. More often than not, his questioning about your mental status would become overbearing, but as much as you hated to admit it, you found it adorable. You also found it comforting, knowing if you chose to, you were always more than welcome to open about your feelings to Steve.

And recently, you found the feeling to be mutual. 

Within the past weeks, you were finally learning things about Steve; things he had never opened up about in the past. It was interesting and you always found yourself intrigued over the stories of King Steve and how he came to be, how much he regretted certain things, how he wishes he would have spent more time talking to you than chasing tail (and Nancy Wheeler). 

Nodding your head, you press a chaste kiss to Steve’s cheek before offering a small smile towards him. “Yeah, I’m okay.” You answer, nodding your head a final time. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m with you, so yeah, I’m doing great – minus the fact I can’t stop thinking about that freaking Cadillac.” He hisses, shaking his head as a grin beams across his face. “Starting to think I gotta’ say bye to the BMW, you know?”

“You don’t even have a job anymore!” You exclaim, smacking his chest lightly. “Scoops is done! The whole mall is burned to the ground and you’re talking about getting a new car?”

Steve pauses for a moment, thinking the words over before nodding. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“You are ridiculous.” You scoff, the smile remaining across your features. 

“I love you too.”

[rohad93]

Authority Online : Ch2

I lied. Here’s two.

~ ~ ~

3:30 AM, Saturday 

The alarm on her nightstand began to blare unrelentingly, rattling atop the nightstand.  

The lump of covers slowly began to shift.

Sluggishly, an arm slid out from beneath the blankets, and one well placed slap silenced the grating noise and the lump went still again for a long moment before sighing. The blankets shifted as ever so slowly she sat herself up and flipped back the covers and swung her legs over the side, bare feet touching down onto the cold wooden floors as she freed herself from her blanket cocoon. 

A jaw cracking yawn worked its way out and before she forced herself up, tiptoeing carefully through the darkness with practiced ease, even still partially asleep and eyes closed.  

She reached out and flicked a switch on the wall and the bathroom light flickered on, she squinted into the harsh light as she fumbled with the shower knobs, blowing a few stray strands of long silvery hair out of her face. Eventually, the water turned hot, filling the small bathroom with steam as she shucked her pajamas, letting them fall where they may on the tiled floor.

Celeste sighed as the hot water ran off her skin, helping to wash away any lingering drowsiness. 

She carefully combed her fingers through the tangled mess that was her morning hair, till it lay in a smooth wet sheet across her shoulders and back, the water turning the normally silver hairs a stormy gray. Her forehead pressed against the cool tile for more than a couple of minutes before quickly washing.  

She’d wasted enough time here, she had things to do.

Turning off the water she carefully stepped out and wrapped the fluffy blue towel hanging on the rack around her and padded out into her bedroom, flipping on the light. 

She dug through her closet before settling on simple jeans and a t-shirt that would be covered in flour before the sun even rose. She wrapped the towel around her hair and dressed, moving quickly out of her room and into the kitchen where the automatic timer on her kettle had just finished brewing her morning cup of black tea into her favorite mug. 

She took a long, deep breath of the warm steam drifting out of the cup before taking it back into the bathroom with her before setting to work on drying the mass of wet hair on her head. 

A solid fifteen minutes later she set down the hairdryer and slid a hand through her hair. Satisfied it was dry, she curled the long strands into a bun atop her head before she took her cup and left her apartment, flicking off all the lights as she went, stopping at the door just long enough to pull on her favorite slips on shoes and hurry out the door. Her steps echoed back at her in the empty stairwell as she made her way from the third floor to the ground floor, sipping on her tea. 

She stepped out of the stairwell and into the dark lobby, making her way into the back and hit the switch, flooding the kitchen with light and pulled the navy blue, stained and flour-dusted apron off its hook and slipped it over her head, tying the ends behind her as she walked across the room to the large pin board with several slips of paper and various receipts attached to it and glanced at them as she sipped her tea. 

The cupcakes were being picked up today, they just needed to be frosted. Sky could start that when she came in. She needed to put the finishing touches on the wedding cake that was being picked up tomorrow and start a few new batches of dough for pastries. 

With a plan in mind, she hit the power button on the radio, filling the quiet kitchen with the soft lilting sounds of a guitar.

She hummed to herself as she moved about the kitchen, measuring wet and dry ingredients into large mixers and pulling several trays of cling wrap covered dough out of the walk-in fridge that had been left overnight to rise. She prodded gently at them and was pleased with the bounce back of the dough as she pulled it out of the bowl with liberally floured hands and began to knead.

She was barely aware of how much time had passed. That often happened, she could just lose herself in the comforting, repetitive process of prepping, mixing and baking batches of pastries and bread for hours at a time; it was soothing.  

“Good morning.” A quiet voice spoke up out of nowhere.

Celeste jumped, sending a cloud of flour into the air as she whipped around to find a wiery, younger woman, her dark, shoulder length hair, hanging in front of her eyes.

“Sky… you startled me,” she admitted, wiping her flour dusted hands on her apron.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, though the small smile said otherwise, walking into the kitchen proper and pulling her own apron off the hook. 

“It’s alright, I need you to start icing the cupcakes for the Smith order, they’re coming to pick them up at noon,” she instructed before turning back to the balls of dough waiting to be turned into loaves of bread. 

“Right” Sky’s quiet reply was barely audible over the new song playing on the radio, though Celeste was used to the quiet and soft-spoken demeanor of her assistant.

They worked together in relative silence, rotating things in and out of the ovens and into the display cases in the front of the store. Before she knew it her phone alarm was beeping at her, telling her it was 8 am, time to open the doors. 

“Watch the mixer, I’ll be right back…” She wiped her hands off on her apron as she walked out to the front and hit several switches, turning on the lights in the lobby of the shop and inside the display cases, lighting up the racks of shiny, sugared treats, before moving to the front and unlocking the door as she flipped the closed sign in the window around to read open. She pushed open the door and locked it into place, allowing the scent of freshly made baked goods to waft out into the street. She stood on the sidewalk and looked up and down the street of a slowly waking city on a Saturday morning. The businesses across the street were beginning to open their doors and neon open signs cast a scarlet glow over the dim street, still quiet, save for the occasional passing car. 

She could smell the freshly roasted coffee from the cafe just next door, she enjoyed the smell, even if she didn’t care much for coffee itself. Stepping back inside, she did a quick check of the cash register and that the counter’s were clean. Somehow, by the end of the day, they were always sticky. And she could never figure out why but had long ago attributed it to just being the way things were.  

She walked back into the kitchen just in time to hear the quick thumping of feet in the stairwell and was smiling even before a small boy with curly black hair came bounding out of the stairwell, still dressed in his pajamas. 

“Aunt Celeste!” he grinned brightly, changing trajectory to run headlong into her knees. She laughed, looking down at the six year old, running her fingers lovingly through his thick, dark hair.     

“Good morning, Steven, You’re just in time for breakfast, everything is warm and gooey,” she emphasized, tapping him on the nose and smiling when he went cross-eyed following her finger.

“Yeah, let’s pump him full of sugar…Whoo,” a drowsy voice piped up.

Celeste looked up at her sister as she shuffled into the kitchen, still in her own pastel pink pajamas and lion-headed slippers. Her own curly head of hair, a tangled mess.

“It was originally your idea to let him have a pastry for breakfast on Saturday,” Celeste reminded her with a small smirk. Rose only grumbled and shuffled her way to the front of the store. 

“Shall we?” She smiled down at the boy still clutching at her legs. He grinned and took off toward the front. 

Rose was picking up a peach danish in a square of parchment paper when they came out. She closed the case and walked out the front door, making a sharp left toward the cafe. Celeste rolled her eyes.

It certainly was cheaper to trade pastries for coffee with the man who owned the cafe, but Rose could have at least put on real clothes before going over. Ignoring her younger sister’s life choices for the moment she walked around to the other side of the glass where her nephew was contemplating all the baked goods on display with uncharacteristic seriousness.

“So…?” She drawled, kneeling down next to him. He hummed, tapping his small fingers against his chin. 

“What would you have?” He finally asked, looking up at her. Pale eyebrows lifted at the question before turning to look into the crystal clear cases.

“I think for breakfast you can’t go wrong with soda bread and jam.” She pointed to the raisin studded, sliced and whole rounds of bread on one side of the case.

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded.

“Are you sure? I don’t think you’ve ever had Irish soda bread before, you know you only get one,” she reminded.

“Yeah.” He nodded and pointed at the bread. 

“Alright.” She walked around and pulled out a slice of bread, Steven followed her into the back and pulled himself onto a stool in the back corner where a small table was set up for prep, as well as his Saturday morning breakfast. 

Celeste slathered strawberry jam onto the bread before setting it on a napkin down in front of him and watched as he took a large bite.

“Well?” She looked at him expectantly.

“It’s really good!” He gurgled around the food still in his mouth as he tried taking another big bite.

Celeste leaned down and placed a kiss on top of his dark curls.

“You may have been born here, but you’re Irish at heart, my love.”

Rose chose that moment to reappear, coffee in hand and looking far more alive then she had a few minutes earlier.

“Oooh, soda bread…can mom have some?” She leaned down and took a small bite when the boy held it up to her. 

“Thank you, sweety.” She kissed his cheek before leaving him too his breakfast.

“Big orders today?” She turned to Celeste. 

“Just finishing up a couple, shouldn’t take long, all the prep for tomorrow is already done, as well as today’s restocking,” she rattled off distractedly and moved a bowl of proofing dough into the walk-in.

“Great, that means you have time to go to the park with us, right?” she asked.

“The park?” Steven turned to his mother excitedly then to his aunt, her face turning to that of a deer in headlights.

“I still have some things that need to be done and someone has to be out front. Sky can’t Ice cupcakes and watch the front.”

“Actually…,” a quiet voice piped up, drawing everyone’s eyes to her. Sky held out a hand to several large boxes, filled with beautifully iced cupcakes. “The Smith order is ready…I can watch the front.” 

Rose turned to her sister expectantly, as did Steven. 

With both of them giving her those pleading eyes she knew she was trapped. 

“Alright…,” she relented and smiled when the boy cheered, taking the rest of his breakfast and running back upstairs to change. 

“You’re not going to the park like that too are you?” she asked, turning to Rose, who stuck out her tongue before taking a sip of her coffee and heading up the stairs to their apartment on the second floor.  

~ ~ ~ ~

It always amazed Celeste how something like a trip to the park that for most people would have been an hour, two max, could turn into an entire day with her sister. 

Starting at the park, then on the way home window browsing along the shops on the way back had quickly turned into actual shopping for new clothes for Steven for school, followed by lunch and several more stops before they finally got back by which time it was one in the afternoon.

There were quite a few people in the shop and Sky looked more than a little haggard trying to run the register and give out orders. 

“We’ll go upstairs,” Rose mumbled, herding her son into the back and up the stairs to the apartments above the storefront. 

Celeste hurried around the counter to help, quickly getting the small crowd orderly and under control by allowing Sky to just concentrate on the register while she boxed up various baked goods for the people waiting in line.  

Once the shop had emptied out Celeste sighed, turning to her frazzled assistant. 

“My apologies, Sky. I never meant to be gone so long. Why don’t you go take a long break?” she suggested.

She nodded and quietly disappeared into the back.

After a while, she came back and the rest of the day went by much calmer and before she knew it, the sun had set and it was time to close up. 

What few pastries were left were split into two boxes and one was sent away with Sky, while she sat the other on the counter to drop off for her sister and brother-in-law when she went upstairs. 

She locked the door behind Sky with wishes for a good night and flipped the open sign around too closed and hit the lights before wandering into the back, making a mental note to add a little something to the other woman’s next paycheck. 

She still had one more thing left to finish.

 Walking into the fridge she carefully rolled out the wedding cake that was being picked up first thing in the morning and mixed together a batch of icing before getting to work. 

With a steady hand, she carefully moved around the cake, creating perfect little shapes and designs across the curved white surface. Adding a dip here or a petal there. Before long she took a step back to admire her work. 

“Looks good enough to eat,” Rose announced herself as she walked out of the stairwell.

“I should hope so.” Celeste smiled. 

“You always seem to put in a little extra effort into wedding cakes,” Rose said offhandedly as she admired her sister’s work. It really was a thing of beauty, very nearly too beautiful to eat.  

Three large tiers of perfectly smooth, round, iced white cake stacked carefully atop each other.  The attention to detail was apparent in the elegant piping and immaculate little flowers made of marzipan that peppered the top of each layer. 

“They are rather important,” Celeste smiled, as she stepped back to look over the cake once more with a critical eye. “Also, I like to give it a little extra effort, make their day a little extra special, if I can,” she admitted. Rose glanced at her as she gave the pastry a final look over. Debating if she wanted to start this conversation that had been bugging her a while before her mouth decided for her.  

“Wouldn’t you like to be able to make you own wedding cake someday?” Rose finally asked and Celeste stopped, dark blue eyes immediately falling onto her sister, her mouth started to open.

“It’s been three years since you went on a date.” Rose plowed on before her sister could say anything. “I know the bakery is incredibly important to you, but it’s doing better than ever, and I know you’d like to meet that special person, but it isn’t going to happen from the kitchen. You need to use some weekends to go meet people.” 

“I can’t leave Sky alone to fulfill orders on one of our busiest times of the week… as you saw today” She clasped her hands together, worrying the skin of her knuckles that had flecks of dried icing on them. 

“You could always hire some part time weekend help. Sky is more than capable of overseeing someone, and she knows how you like things done, just someone to work half a day on Saturday’s would free up a lot of time for you,” Rose pushed. She hated the idea that her sister might be lonely.

Sure, she spent whatever time wasn’t spent in the bakery with her, Greg and Steven, but at the end of the night she went upstairs to her apartment, alone.    

Celeste pursed her lips, looking pointedly away from her sister to gaze at the cake for a long moment before looking at Rose, who was staring at her, waiting. 

“I wouldn’t even know where to start anymore…,” she admitted quietly, causing Rose to grin almost manically. 

“Luckily I do. Meet me in your apartment when you’re done.” She turned and went upstairs, leaving Celeste alone in the kitchen. 

Satisfied with the cake she carefully rolled it back into the walk-in and finished cleaning up what little mess was left before turning off the lights and heading upstairs. 

Rose was sitting on her couch with her laptop open on the coffee table.

“Okay, come here.” She patted the cushion next to her.

She sat down and peered down at the computer that usually had the bakery’s website order forms open, and had a website she didn’t recognize. 

“The Authority: Online dating for adult professionals,” she read the bold header aloud. “Online dating?” She turned to Rose.

“Yeah! It takes time to meet people, time that you don’t usually have, but this way you can at least get a good feel for someone by messaging with them before you commit any time to a real date,” she reasoned.

“This is a dating site for doctors or lawyers…”

“You started and own your own business. You own this building, Celeste! You’re an adult professional. Now, are we gonna do this?” She gestured to the screen, sitting on the ‘create profile’ page.

She hesitated only a second before nodding.

Grinning, Rose pulled the laptop close and started typing.

“Full name...Celestine Carrick…” Rose spoke aloud as she typed. “Height, 5’ 8’’... Weight…” 

“I do not weigh that much!” Celeste hissed, smacking her sister’s arm.

“You wanna bet?” Rose challenged, hooking a thumb toward the bathroom where she knew the scale was. Her sister was far from what most people would call fat, but she was curvy, and for some reason, Rose had never been able to deduce, liked to pretend she wasn’t. 

“Let’s just move on,” she sniffed.

“What do you think age range wise?” Rose glanced at her. Her sister had dated so rarely over the years she couldn’t even take a guess as to what she might be into.

“32-36 I suppose? I’m not interested in anyone younger nor too much older.”

“Okay, orientation…. very gay,” she mumbled under her breath, earning another smack on the arm. 

They picked out a few pictures and then she slid the device over for Celeste to write her bio and hit save.

“Congratulations, your profile is complete! Now send some messages!” 

“All set! Have fun, night!” Rose smiled as she stood from the couch and left the apartment.

Celeste looked down at the home screen, where the profiles for several other members popped up and started scrolling.

[cinemavariety]

Cinema Variety’s Top Favorite Films of 2019

To quote Principal Duvall from the 2004 teen comedy classic Mean Girls: “I just wanted to say that you’re all winners, and that I couldn’t be happier the year is ending” 2019 was both a super difficult year personally, but even more so, I feel as if it was one of the weakest years for cinema in recent memory. Thankfully the last few months of the year have made up for it with a surplus of absolutely incredible cinematic experiences, many of which are reflected in this year’s rankings. I present to you my favorite films of 2019. Check out my rankings from previous years by checking out the links below:

Top Picks of 2018 List Top Picks of 2017 List Top Picks of 2016 List Top Picks of 2015 List Top Picks of 2014 List Top Picks of 2013 List

Honorable Mentions: Midsommar Uncut Gems Parasite 3 From Hell The Death and Life of John F. Donavan **THIS LIST IS IN ORDER AND CONTAINS SOME MILD SPOILERS**

#16 - Ready or Not Directed by Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett

Ready or Not looked entertaining enough from the trailers, but it certainly wasn’t anything I was dying to go see. Especially in a movie theatre. However my brother convinced me to go with him and it ended up being one of the most consistently fun and entertaining theatrical experiences of 2019.

There were a lot of similar plot elements to the brilliant 2013 horror film - You’re Next (which by the way is one of my favorites). The plot is about a young girl, who grew up an orphan, marrying into an insanely wealthy family. The family has a tradition of playing a game on the wedding night, and she ends up choosing a game of hide and seek. Unbeknownst to the bride, the family is actually planning to hunt her down and murder her in order to perform some type of satanic ritual.     

Horror comedies only work for me about half the time, but his film has enough graphic violence and intense situations to counterbalance all of the humor throughout. They complemented each other well and the result was a super funny and super bloody cat and mouse hunt of social classes.

#15 - Doctor Sleep Directed by Mike Flanagan

Helming the sequel to The Shining is no easy undertaking whatsoever. Kubrick’s arthouse horror masterpiece will forever remain not only one of my favorite of his films, but also as one of my favorite genre pieces in general. I was immediately relieved when I discovered that Mike Flanagan signed on to direct the adaptation of Stephen King’s sequel - Doctor Sleep.

I already knew beforehand that Doctor Sleep was more of a fantasy story than a direct horror, and also wasn’t one of the most popular of King’s works. The film ended up being a pretty epic fantasy thriller. Flanagan excels in creating his own universe while also honoring the source material, as well as paying homage to Kubrick’s film. However, it shines more when it does its own thing instead of trying to be nostalgia porn.

Most of the film worked for me, some of it didn’t. The recasting of Jack Torrance’s character left a slightly sour taste in my mouth. Ewan McGregor does a great job as the recovering Danny but it is really Rebecca Ferguson who steals the show with her villain character Rose the Hat.

Doctor Sleep proves that Flanagan has become one of the most consistent horror directors working in the industry. There’s always a pulse to be discovered in the foundations of his storytelling.

#14 - High Life Directed by Claire Denis

Claire Denis, one of the most polarizing French auteurs, debuted her first English language film in 2019 with High Life. I had the pleasure of seeing the film on a big screen, and even though I felt a little underwhelmed as an initial reaction to the finale, the film seemed to linger in my subconscious like a haunting unresolved dream. It held up even better on a re-watch, which you can view for free if you have Amazon Prime.

It’s definitely unlike any space film that I have ever seen. The premise surrounds a group of prisoners on death row who are sent to the farthest depths of space on a doomed voyage. All of the occupants are corralled by Juliette Binoche’s character, who plays some type of mad space scientist, is obsessed with collecting their semen in order to create new life in the abyss of the cosmos.

High Life is a slow burn, often minimalist film, which relies more heavily on atmosphere/score/visuals than it does on dialogue or forced plot elements. It’s bewilderingly nihilistic in how it depicts human behavior gone horribly awry. Robert Pattinson gives an understated performance and seems to provide the only glimmer of what seems to be hope by the end of the film.

#13 - Too Old to Die Young Directed by Nicolas Winding Refn

Too Old To Die Young finds the celebrated auteur, Nicolas Winding Refn, sharing his view of humanity and society at its most despicable. Hate seems to seep out of the cracks of every neon-soaked frame in the limited series. Amazon gave Refn free reigns in creating his phantasmagoria.

All of his usual motifs and creative decisions are employed in full force with Too Old To Die Young, sometimes to an almost unbearable degree unless you are a truth Refn aficionado. His long takes, infinitesimal silences between lines, neon lighting, synth score and characters belonging to a criminal underworld are all utilized to great affect within the series.

I won’t lie, I found it to be some of Refn’s most challenging work to date. There are so many aspects to be found within this series that went over my head, it is art that demands a re-watch. And while I believe that Refn’s sensibilities are best conveyed through a film medium, the limited series allows Refn to explore what he wants to convey like an artist adding layer upon layer of colors onto a blank palette.

#12 - Age Out Directed by A.J. Edwards

A.J. Edwards returned in 2019 with his sophomore directorial effort - Age Out (originally titled Friday’s Child). Edwards has served as one of many creatives who worked on the editing team of Terrence Malick’s films in the last decade. Malick’s influence on the director is quite noticeable. Edwards directed his first film in 2014, The Better Angels, which was a decent debut. Whereas The Better Angels oftentimes felt too close of a mimicry of Malick’s style, Age Out utilizes certain aspects of the style while also allowing Edwards to have his own authorial voice.

The film centers around a young man named Richie as he is about to “age out” of the foster care facility in which he was raised - a frightening reality for countless youth in America and around the world. Richie is left to navigate the difficulties of the adult world at a mere eighteen years old, without any family or parental figures to help him along the way. He makes friends with a seedy townie who revels in delinquency and causing ruckus. Also, there is a romantic subplot between Richie and a girl named Joan, portrayed tenderly by Imogen Poots. This relationship seems to be the only saving grace in Richie’s life. However, a turn of events soon reveal that Richie’s traumatic past has gotten the better of him and threatens to doom his entire future.

Edwards shoots the film in a boxed style with a 1.33 : 1 aspect ratio. This aids with the sense of claustrophobia and paranoia that invades Richie’s life. As aforementioned, many of Malick’s motifs are used here: a floating steadicam guiding the audience along, hushed dialogue, montages with classical music, and even some voice overs. However, this aesthetic isn’t heavy handed in any way. In fact, it’s a joy to see directors whose work can almost go into the Malick canon as the auteur has had such an influence on a lot of young, upcoming directors. Age Out is both a coming of age story and a cry of warning for unhealed trauma.

#11 - An Elephant Sitting Still Directed by Hu Bo

An Elephant Sitting Still now holds the spot as the longest running film that I have ever seen. It sits in at just under four hours, and it completely delivers without ever feeling like it drags on unnecessarily. The film technically premiered in 2018 and is considered a 2018 film among critic circles. However, the epic didn’t get a widespread distribution in the U.S. until this year, so I am overlooking this discrepancy. The film was marked with somewhat of a controversy after the director Hu Bo took his own life right after post production was completed. Hu Bo is an author turned director and An Elephant Sitting Still marks his first foray into cinema. It’s one of the best directorial debuts I have ever seen.

The film centers around four different characters during the span of a single day. All of these characters are marked with some sort of tragedy, and many of their stories intertwine in a synchronistic fashion. It reminded me of other masterpieces such an Inarittu’s Amores Perros or Paul Thomas Anderson’s Magnolia. The film takes place in the industrial regions of Northern China, and the barren landscapes reflect an inner emptiness that emanates from all the characters.

There is a hollowness to these people as they navigate through life. An Elephant Sitting Still is nothing short of nihilistic. It’s an angry, desperate and hauntingly beautiful cry of pain from a director who was most certainly haunted by his own inner demons. It manages to be both an odyssey of human cruelty and a swan song from a young man who didn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel.

#10 - Joker Directed by Todd Phillips

“It’s getting crazier out there, isn’t it?” These are some of the first lines to be uttered in Todd Philip’s pitch-black satire on society. These lines are what best exemplify the themes that Philip’s was pushing: our society is profoundly sick, everything seems to be getting worse, we have no saviors in sight and hope isn’t always on the horizon. Just from these first utterances, it is clear that Philips is taking all of the political and socioeconomic turmoil of the last four years and has created a problem child that is Joker.

Joaquin Phoenix turns in one of his most disturbed and flawless performances yet - which is no surprise. However, I have yet to see him embody a character so genuinely as he did in The Master. But this isn’t Paul Thomas Anderson, this is Todd Phillips. And the fact that the comedy director even created this piece of art is something that still has me scratching my head. Subtlety is never at play in the film, and there are quite a few plot points that are a little too on-the-nose, even for me. However, all of the other elements redeem it and make this one of the best films of the year. The cinematography is pleasing for the eyes, and the menacing cello scores echoes an existential loneliness that I felt permeate my very being.

The last thirty minutes are exactly what I was hoping from this film. It’s a breath of fresh air to see Hollywood actually stick to creating a nihilistic film that doesn’t once try to water itself down.

#9 - Luce Directed by Julius Onah

Director Julius Onah decided to really step up his game with his latest film Luce. After the dumpster fire that was The Cloverfield Paradox (seriously, thanks for completely ruining what was becoming a dope anthology franchise), Onah has proven that he can be a master of his craft with the proper source material. In regards to the story being told, every element of the film works to its advantage: editing, performances, direction, and most importantly - the screenplay. It’s one of most well written screenplays I have come across in 2019. I immediately could tell from the dialogue that this movie must have been adapted from a stage play, and sure enough upon searching, I found out it was. Not all stage adaptations work, in fact I’d say more than half don’t end up being too effective, but this one stuck its landing and then more.

The story revolves around an overly concerned teacher who contacts Luce’s parents after he writes a paper that comes off as threatening. The paper in question seemed to hold a sentiment in which violence was called for in order to overcome colonialism. It’s important to note that Luce was a child soldier in his native country before being adopted by his parents - played by Naomi Watts and Tim Roth who both gave stunning performances. The rest of the story is an investigation into who their son actually is, which eventually results in moral debates regarding race and identity.

Luce is also a film that effectively helps the audience empathize with the main character, while at the same time questioning whether his intentions are genuine, or a coy to hide something much darker. The truth isn’t always black and white, and this was my biggest takeaway from the movie.

#8 - Monos Directed by Alejandro Landes

Monos felt like a hybrid of elements inspired from great works such as Lord of the Flies, Aguirre: The Wrath of God and Apocalypse Now. This is only the third film to be directed by Alejandro Landes, however it looks and feels as if it was created by a seasoned veteran of the industry.

A group of children guerilla soldiers hold base on a mountaintop where they keep a hostage, watch over a prized cow, and act as a defensive force against an unbeknownst group of enemies. There is little to no exposition in the film. Landes drops the audience off right in the middle of the chaos.

We aren’t exactly sure what these children are risking their lives to fight for, or why they are doing it, but it goes to show the conditions in which they were raised for them to find normalcy in the violent lifestyle of a guerilla soldier. The landscapes are absolutely gorgeous, and there are even a few scenes where I questioned how they accomplished such shots/stunts with a low budget.

#7 - The Beach Bum Directed by Harmony Korine

The Beach Bum might not be the best film that Harmony Korine has directed (it’s certainly no Spring Breakers), but it is easily the most fun. It’s been almost seven long years since Korine’s last project, and I had been waiting in eager anticipation to see what he would do next. He was originally going to do a gangster crime drama called The Trap, which is what I was really hoping from Korine, but that fell through and he ended up making one of the best stoner comedies I have ever had the pleasure of watching.

The Beach Bum is probably Korine’s most accessible and audience-friendly film he’s ever done. I say that lightly though, because it still remains just as highly divisive as his other work. The plot is loose. It follows the misadventures and antics of Moondog, a washed up poet and complete burnout. He is soon sent to rehab for all of his illegal activities, in which he breaks out with the help of Zac Efron’s character, who might have just been my favorite character of the film. Korine seems to have a consistently solid knack to create dirty, seedy and absolutely enthralling characters.

I am really happy that he decided to keep a very similar visual aesthetic to his previous masterpiece, Spring Breakers. Benoit Debie, who is the king of neon lighting and discombobulating camerawork, does a masterful job at creating the textured and visual world of The Beach Bum. Hell, it’s probably one of the main reasons why I decided to see it twice on the big screen.

I’m not the biggest fan of comedies, mostly because I have a very bizarre sense of humor and find most of them to be completely hollow. But Korine’s darkly nihilistic sense of humor suits my sensibilities perfectly and I found myself laughing out loud at various points throughout The Beach Bum. It’s a fun, and even slightly endearing film at certain points thanks to the presence of Isla Fisher’s character as the wife. I look forward to whatever Korine decides to do next. At this point, who knows where he will decide to go with his career. I just hope I don’t have to wait another five plus years to see more of his work.

#6 - A Hidden Life Directed by Terrence Malick

Malick isn’t “back” - he never left. A Hidden Life isn’t a “return to form”. His form has always been there, it’s been evolving since The Tree of Life. In fact, the structure and flow of this film is extremely reminiscent of his past three films.

How far are you willing to walk the path of righteousness, even when the path is marred with pain and unanswered sufferings? How long are you able to cling to your faith when it feels like all hope is lost? How do you fight for what is good, when everyone around you is telling you to submit to forces of absolute evil? These are some of just many questions explored in Terrence Malick’s newest tour de force. As with many of Malick’s recent work, these aren’t questions that are necessarily outright answered during the film. They are instead questions of morality meant to be repeated throughout the story, almost like a mantra or an ode to pure faith.

A Hidden Life is Malick’s first return to chronological and narrative-driven filmmaking since The New World. It has garnered praise almost universally among critics, and is regarded as his best film in ten years since The Tree of Life. While I am in the few who don’t exactly agree that this is Malick’s best film in a decade, I might even dare say that it is among my least favorites of Malick’s recent output, I am still not denying the sublime mastery instilled in every single shot of this film.

A Hidden Life tells the noble true story of Franz Jagerstatter, an Austrian conscientious objector, who refuses to fight for the Nazis in World War II due to his religious beliefs and is eventually executed for it. He is decades later deemed a martyr by the Church - all the more telling as to why Malick decided to tackle this story. The heart of this story is told through letters that Franz and his wife Fani exchange throughout his period spent as a political prisoner. Fani seems to be one of the only people in Franz’s life who sticks by his side. No matter how soul crushing Franz’s decision is for Fani, she understands him well enough to know that death is a better option than spoiling your soul and humanity. “Better to suffer injustices than to do it,” as one character painfully states in the film. And while I wasn’t as emotionally wrecked as I thought I would be by this film, I instead feel inspired by Franz’s commitment to his innate goodness. The back and forth perspectives of Franz and Fani are well executed -  we as an audience get reprieves from the dreary confines of a prison cell to the majestic grandeur of the Austrian mountainside. The mountains and surrounding nature are characters within themselves. Near the finale, as Franz is face to face with his mortality, his mind wanders back to riding his motorcycle through the village on a sunny day as the mountains loom in the background. These are the final desires of a doomed man, something as simple as having the freedom to go outside and feel the grass beneath his feet - to experience the wonders of nature that most people don’t think twice about.

As mentioned earlier, it is far from my favorite of Malick’s oeuvre, and is not without its slight misgivings. It was stated that this was Malick’s return to “narratively focused” filmmaking. But he still utilized his signature elliptical style, and for me these moods oftentimes clashed and kept me at a distance emotionally. I rarely say this with a Malick film, but more of a reliance on dialogue would have worked wonders for me. There are quite a few sequences in which Malick opted for montage instead of a more fleshed out scene, which I believe would have further added to the power of the story.

These are all slight issues, and I myself might be a harsher critic than most simply because I hold Malick to such a high standard. Once you can give yourself to the film, A Hidden Life becomes a true zen experience. It managed to instill a sense of serene presence within myself. I felt very grateful for the most basic and common details of my life and this world. Malick’s work can be such a sensorial rush, and making even mundane objects and rooms look absolutely gorgeous, that it’s as if “everything is shining” in my own life after seeing the film. I look forward to returning to The Church of Malick very soon.

#5 - Ad Astra Directed by James Gray

Ad Astra got a lot of unwarranted hate this year in my opinion. It truly is a shame because I believe that James Gray has struck gold once again. While I don’t adore it to the same degree as I did Gray’s previous feature, The Lost City of Z, Ad Astra succeeds in being one of the most understated space films made in the 21st century.

It’s not exactly a wholly original story, or a plot that is something that we haven’t seen before. It’s the way Gray goes about telling this story and exploring these themes that makes it so very special. It’s not forcing any overreaching philosophical or ethical message onto the viewer, it’s not overly complicated or overly long, and rather than trying to present completely senseless physical explanations to the audience, it just accepts the fiction aspect as “science fiction”.

Hoyte Van Hoytema is a brilliant Director of Photography and he crafts some of the most breathtaking space shots in recent memory. He really captures the breathtaking enormity of the cosmis abyss. The scenes that take place near Nepture during the finale are jaw dropping. We see two characters wrestling each other while suspended midair and the camera pulls out to reveal their absolutely terrifying ordeal while splashes of Neptune’s purple color emanates behind them. What I enjoyed most about the film is this sort of serene, zen atmosphere that Gray creates through the visuals, the score and Brad Pitt’s heartfelt but quietly somber voiceover.

Pitt portrays a lonely, broken and existentially conflicted astronaut. He finds the quiet infinitude of space to be a reprieve from the chaos of conflict happening down on Earth. He feels more at home among the stars than he does on the planet in which he was born. His perspective reminds me of the blue God from Watchmen, Doctor Manhattan, when he’s dwelling peacefully on Mars and laments his feelings toward Earth and all the people on it: “I am tired of Earth. These People. I am tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives.”

James Gray’s Ad Astra, much like his previous two films before this, detail the pains and tribulations of undaunted pioneers as they explore foreign territories. The final monologue of Pitt’s washed over me like a gentle breeze: “I will rely on those closest to me, and I will share their burders, as they share mine. I will live and love.”

#4 - Anima Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson

Interprative dance, experimental film, and visual albums are three of my absolutely favorite art forms. The real MVP of modern cinema, Paul Thomas Anderson, has collaborated with one of the real MVP’s of modern music, Thom Yorke, to create a fifteen minute long music video on the power of human connection.

Thom Yorke plays a sleepy commuter, a passive bystander, a human sheep, a functioning cog in some great machinery. He makes brief eye contact with a pretty woman on the train, and notices that she leaves behind a briefcase. The rest of the short details his efforts as he dodges through obstacle after obstacle trying to find the woman and return the briefcase to her. I couldn’t believe my eyes as Anderson concocts the innermost desires of being seen, understood, and loved. The results are strokes of flashing light projections on concrete walls, bodies undulating as they separate and conjoin simultaneously, giddy humans running through fog, and lovers meeting in the union of hearts.

The final section, Dawn Chorus, is one of the most gentle and blissful experiences I have ever witnessed, let alone one in a film distributed by Netflix. Paul Thomas Anderson and Thom Yorke’s project had me understanding why I fell in love with this medium in the first place.

#3 - 1917 Directed by Sam Mendes

1917 takes the spot as my favorite war film of the decade. Personally, I found it to be one of the best war films ever made in general. What director Sam Mendes and DOP Roger Deakins have created is nothing short of a miracle. It’s the first “single take” war film to ever be made, mainly because this is a feat that is far from easy to pull off. Mendes and Deakins shot the movie in extreme long takes, and spliced them all together to make the whole movie come off as a seamless single take. These tracking shots never leave the side of the characters, we are in their footsteps on the journey the entire time.

1917 has a pretty simple premise: two young British soldiers are given a near impossible mission to cross enemy territory and deliver a message that will stop a deadly attack on over 1,500 soldiers - one of them being the brother of one of the two soldiers sent on the mission. The familial aspect contributes added emotional gravitas to the plot overall.

1917 is more of an experiential war film than it is a action or battle focused war film. It’s best to be seen in an IMAX because the sound design and the invasive tracking shots make you feel as if you are walking along these two soldiers as they face grave perils on their quest to deliver the message. I very much so enjoyed that they kept the plot small and intimate, without resorting to constant firepower to keep the audience engaged. That isn’t too say that the movie doesn’t have more than enough of its fair share of nail biting action sequences, and also plenty of gruesome shots depicting the carnage that World War I brought. These soldiers have to army crawl over rotting corpses, while rats and crows are seen pecking and chewing through the remains. The filmmaker doesn’t turn a blind eye to the horrors that war produced. To me, this is one of many reasons why I believe 1917 is superior to other popular recent war films such as Dunkirk. I don’t want my war films to be sanitized. War needs to be portrayed as it truly is - acts of complete inhumanity.

Dare I say that 1917 is Come and See for the 21st century. While Come and See is most definitely the superior film, there were echoes of the classic Soviet Union masterpiece that ring throughout 1917. Maybe it’s the expertly crafted tracking shots, maybe it’s the maddening use of sound design/editing, or maybe it’s the shell shocked expression that is engraved on one of the main characters faces near the finale.

1917 does an amazing job of being very loud, but also utilizing silence in certain scenes to great affect. The juxtaposition is most expertly crafted during one scene that involved flares popping off in the sky, lighting up the ruins of a city, as one the characters runs away from enemy fire. It’s an absolutely exhilarating scene. I ended up bawling by the end of the movie, mostly just because of all the pent up anxiety and distress I felt throughout. You don’t see many films that take place during World War I anymore. But 1917 shows it is not a time period to be forgotten about.

#2 - The Lighthouse Directed by Robert Eggers

I had been eagerly anticipating Robert Eggers’s follow-up film after he released The VVitch back in 2016. At first it was reported that he was going to be doing an adaptation of Nosferatu, which I still think would be a great story for Egger’s to adapt, especially after witnessing what he instead decided to make - The Lighthouse.

Shot gorgeously in black & white on gritty 16mm celluloid, the film looks like it comes from a completely different era (the dialogue as well). There were many shots that had a similar look to some of Bergman’s early work on the Faroe islands.

The Lighthouse has a fairly simple plot. Robert Pattinson plays Winslow who goes to work for a seasoned lighthouse keeper named Thomas who is played by Willem Dafoe. Winslow is new to being a wickie and Thomas takes him under his wing to show him the ropes. Thomas orders him about incessantly in a brute and abusive manner.

There is a minimalism to the plot, however all of the other elements are done so perfectly that the daily grueling routines of these wickies becomes nothing short of hypnotizing. The sound design and score ratchets up the harsh conditions of the island. Wind sounds like its constantly shrieking outside - a reminder of the unease that seems to be building to an overflow. The dialogue, diction, and accents are all completely authentic to the time period and setting that the story is taking place in. Eggers commitment is second to none when it come to detail and authenticity with aspects such as the character’s accents and inflections. A real case of cabin fever befalls the two men who both seem to become obsessed with the mystical light that emanates at the top of the light house.

While I really enjoyed The VVItch, I absolutely adored The Lighthouse and find it to be a much stronger work from Eggers. I think what I vibed with most about it is that the movie doesn’t feel the need to be confined to one particular genre. Whereas The VVitch was literally about a witch bringing misery to a Puritan family, it was constricted to be somewhat of a horror film. However, The Lighthouse manages to be many different tones: a fever dream surrealist film, an arthouse horror, a slapstick comedy, and a nautical retelling of many ancient sea myths. And all of these different tones worked together and bounced off each other in perfect harmony.

I found myself both laughing and completely repulsed by the images I was seeing - especially within the last act of the film which succeeded in shaking me up and making me feel both bewildered and slightly nauseated. It ends up being a gritty, dirty, and uncompromising journey into total psychosis. By the conclusion of the film, the audience comes to the same realization as the two characters - there really was enchantment in the light after all.

#1 - Waves Directed by Trey Edward Shults

Waves is an operatic cry for people to be better to one another. It is by far my favorite film of the year, and I truly believe it to be one of the finest films ever made. It earned itself a well deserved spot in my Top 25 Favorite Films of the Decade.

Trey Edward Shults started out his cinematic career on a strong note with Krisha. He delivered once again with his sophomore debut - It Comes at Night (even if I do find it to be easily the weakest of out the three he has directed). But for me, Waves is where Shults really experiments with his style to such a fine tuned degree that we find the director not calming down his vision or becoming more “grounded”, instead he expands upon his prowess with one of the most powerful family dramas I’ve ever seen.

Shults is another director who made my list this year who is somewhat of a protege of Terrence Malick. Shults worked as an intern for Malick on both The Tree of Life and Voyage of Time. It is quite clear the influence that Malick has on Shult’s vision. But Shults, even more-so than Edwards who also made my list this year, has taken Malick’s inspiration and created something wholly his own.

Shults has created an experiential rollercoaster of actions, consequences and the toxic fallout than can come from such actions. Waves is essentially two films in one. The first half is the energetic, chaotic and traumatic first half in its depiction of toxic masculinity taken too far, to the eventual accident that changes all of the characters lives. The camera is constantly floating in this portion, or shall I even say flying through the air and around the characters. The camera has no limits in what it can do and that along with the editing, and most noticeably the insanely perfect soundtrack/score, this portion ends up feeling like one prolonged anxiety attack.

The second half of the film switches character POVs masterfully. There’s a psychedelic shift of perspective from the brother’s eyes covered in flashing lights from the back of a police car to his little sister’s eyes in the back of their parent’s car (you have to have seen the film to completely understand what I am referring to of course). This second half of the film is where the camera slows down a little. This portion is more character focused and less interested in being flashy through its aesthetic. We get more dialogue, more character details, and a lot more tears in this half. It’s like a long cathartic release after experiencing an hour of trauma and abuse. It succeeds in tearing you apart, to only slowly piece you back together.

As mentioned previously, Shults’s soundtrack decisions were the cherry on top for me. Tame Impala, Animal Collective & Tyler the Creator are three of my favorite artists and their music is utilized perfectly within the story. What made this film so special to me, other than the fact it all takes place in the state in which I grew up in, was that no other film has better reminded me of my own humanity in years. This film makes me want to be a better brother, a better friend, a better son, and a better person in general. You never know when a single moment can shatter your entire world. In the end, it left me with a strong message that struck me to my core: appreciate what you have in life, and tread carefully.

[pinkykitten]

Mirrors of Nightmares

IT chapter 2

Bill Denbrough x sister! female reader (non-romantic)

Warning: gore, blood, violence, horror, death, cursing

Specifics: horror, platonic, violence, angst, action, one-shot, race neutral reader, brother/sister

People: bill denbrough, little boy, pennywise 

Words: 1,513

Requested: By anon Hi!!! I just saw it chapter 2 and it was so good! Could you write where the reader is bill denbrough little sister (by like 1 or 2 years) and she was apart of the losers club and they come back to Derry and she goes with bill in the mirror maze and after the kid dies she has a panic attack and bill has to help calm her down and comfort her?

Authors Note: my first IT fic! i luv this movie franchise thing sm like yall have no idea. my fav is richie and i luv bill hader on a scary kinda level u know? but im srry for taking a gazzilion years, life is a butthole and keeps me away from fun and u guys. 

It was fear. You felt almost your stomach drop entering into Derry again, after so many years. As trees move side to side from the wind and shake so did your hands. You began to see yourself as fragile and weak once more, just like when you and the rest of the gang were little. Sometimes you felt alone in all of this nightmare, like the world was a vast, endless space of black nothingness and you were fighting to stay alive, all alone. Bill - your brother - made you look at life through another lens. He kept you alive. He made you feel strong. Whenever life seemed unbearable he was there for you just like the older, protective brother he was. His number one - when entering into this memorable town again - was making sure you were safe.

If only he could suck - like a vacuum cleaner - all those terrible moments from that terrible clown that laid burrowed in your head. 

In the moment of hero or a savior you put someone above you. Someones safety and life on top of your own. Their life is in your hand. No matter what you do you are the ending decision of their fate. 

“Not this little boy,” you cried in your mind as you and Bill teamed up as sister and brother, like a team, but it was no cheerful time. Time was ticking and either you and Bill stop Pennywise from hurting this boy or the boy becomes non existent. 

The carnival was supposed to be a trip full of laughter and fun but instead it made you anxious. Hearing the different, loud noises made it difficult to focus, along with the hoard of people leaving and entering. 

“This way,” Bill waved his hand forward as he started sprinting. 

You followed him, feeling your heart beat rapidly and vigorously. Your eyes tried to find the little boy. He was not safe. He was in grave danger. “There!” You see the young kid giving tickets to a little girl. “He’s right there.”

“Hey! Hey kid!” Bill shouted as he ran to the child. “Kid!”

The blonde haired boy walked in the fun house. Not knowing the evil that followed him. 

“He can’t hear us.” You both jump into the twirling of the carnival entrance and are greeted with neon, glow in the dark clowns that sway back and forth on a path. 

One hits Bill as he passes. You go to his aid. “Are you okay Bill?”

“Yeah I’m fine. Lets go.” He grabs onto your arm, protectively. 

As you proceed there is a huge room filled with only mirrors. It makes you dizzy and unsure as you see you and Bill through your reflection. “Where did he go?”

“I don’t know but stay close.”

Lights were blinking constantly making your eyes and head hurt. You and Bill touched the mirrors to try to find an exit to continue on to find the kid. That was all part of the game, all part of the chase. The kid walked by further away. 

“Kid!” You and Bill shouted over and over in unison. 

Bill ran and was greeted with glass or the mirror. 

You went to the opposite end to try to find another way to the child seeing as Bill was blocked all around. You knew this was Pennywise’s doing. “I know I can find him.” You were met with a dead end and tried to go back to Bill but you were enclosed in one area. “Bill!” You got frightened as you couldn’t go back to him. The side you were on was getting smaller and as you turned to your right you saw the little boy. 

“Y/n!” Bill screamed. He sprinted to you and the kid but was met with another glass. 

You saw Pennywise walk past you with a horrific smile on his face. “Bill I saw IT! IT’s here! He’s here!” Bill’s forehead pressed against the glass. He felt powerless. 

You placed your hand on the glass. “Whatever happens Bill promise me you will help that boy. Please.”

Bill started to panic as his breathing became harsh and tears were starting to fall from his eyes. You were his baby sister, he vowed to protect you all his life. “N-o y/n! N-n-no!” He tried breaking the glass. 

“What are you two doing here?” The kid was confused. “Both of you stop following me!”

“We’re only trying to help you,” you said. 

“I-I’m gonna g-get you both o-o-o-out.” Bill became more and more afraid. 

Suddenly, behind you and the child Pennywise laid his long tongue flat against the glass, licking up. The sight and noise was chilling. The face of the little boy’s was traumatic. 

“No stop. Stop!” Your whole body shook. 

“Please,” Bill cried some more feeling useless. 

“I’m here. I’m right here just t-take me,” Bill pleaded to Pennywise. 

Pennywise started to cackle as he hit the glass of yours and the boys with his head. 

“Son of a b*tch!’ Bill cursed. 

You screamed as Pennywise did it harder and faster. You and the boy both huddled by the corner of your glass rooms. Bill, repeatedly, tried breaking the glass. He tried with his hands, fists, feet, but nothing worked. Your eyes teared up as you saw the glass cracking with each blow Pennywise gave it. This was the end. It was either you or the kid and a hero puts the kid first. You gave a knowing look to Bill to remind him of what you asked for. 

Pennywise paused and gave a huge, demonic smile. “Billy boy, which one do you choose? The boy or your sister?”

“No Bill don’t do this. Remember what I told you.”

Bill screamed, “stop! No!”

“I am going to give you a riddle. If you guess right you save the kid but I kill your sister, if you guess wrong I save you sister but I kill the kid. You only get one try and if you don’t answer at all,” Pennywise smile grew, “I’ll kill them all.”

There was an argument going all around. Bill felt pressured and didn’t know what to do. He loved you more than life and needed to save you but the boy also needed saving. 

“Bill please, I’l be fine.” You smiled, tears falling down. 

“...fine. I’ll do your riddle.”

“The person who built it sold it. The person who bought it never used it. The person who used it never saw it. What is it?”

Bill thought in his head all the possibilities. 

“Bill choose-!”

“No helping him,” Pennywise shook his finger. “Time is ticking, what will it be? You only have one chance.”

One chance to choose the fate of the people in front of him. 

“A lie?” Bill asked. 

The world became quiet and Pennywise’s smile enlarged showing more teeth and fangs. “If only you said coffin.” Pennywise broke through the glass and ate the little boy right up. 

Blood splattering on the glass.

You and Bill screamed as the lights flickered showing a gone little boy who knew nothing of this nightmare and was purely innocent. 

“No,” you felt defeated, crying. You and Bill finally met up at the exit of the mirror rooms. 

“Oh my God,” Bill embraced you. Fighting the urge to sob uncontrollably. 

“I’m sorry Bill. If I didn’t leave you none of this would of happened.”

“Its not your fault.”

You remembered that boy. How scared he looked but yet there was hope in his eyes. Hope that the adults would save the day. The memory of his wine colored blood splattering on the glass flashed within your mind. You bent over a trash can to hurl. 

Bill patted your back, “that’s it. Let it out.” 

You couldn’t breathe. The drumming within your chest increased to a rapid pattern. You tried to search for a comfort object that your eyes could land on. The activity was busy at the carnival and made it worse for you. The noises, screams, cheers. Panic was bubbling in your gut and you were about to erupt like a volcano. “Bill.”

Bill knew that look. For Pete’s sake you were his sister! He pressured you to sit down and tuck your head in between your legs. “Breathe y/n. You’re okay. I’m here and I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

You did as you were told. Gripping onto Bill’s hand like when you were little and you ran to his room claiming you saw a monster under your bed. He would let you cry and console you. He was your calming system. You felt at home and safe with your big brother. Bill hugged you and you leaned your head against his shoulder. 

“Sometimes I think I’m crazy, that its all in my head.” You sniffled. Voice rough and scratchy from the screaming and crying. “Then IT does something like that that makes me see that its all real. That Bill, that is what scares me the most.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I know.

Tag list: @harrington-lover​​, @angelgl16​​, @perfectlybeautifulsuit​​, @hyehoney​​, @haven-prelude (wont let me tag), @leasly​​​, @totally-alexa21​​, @creamy-pasta-boi​​, @multireese​​, @fanfictionrecommendations-com​​, @prentisskelley​​, @malereaderforkpop (wont let me tag), @guardian-of-cookies, @justafangirl-97​​, @teenageshitposts (wont let me tag), @dippergravity (wont let me tag), @some-booty, @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople​​, @collectiveyou​​, @wtfisalltherandoms​​, @dirbel​​, @eastcoasthaven​​, @fangirl-4-life415 (wont let me tag), @melonreblogsstories​​​, @reginalinettis​​​

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[amandaoftherosemire]

Bulletproof -- Part Ten

Fandom: Marvel/College AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader, Platonic!Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Gamora, Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 6,927

Format: Series (Complete)

Warnings: Implied smut, platonic nudity, sexual nudity, explicit language, fluff.

Summary: You and Bucky take some time to flirt. You have your last session for Steve’s art project. You run into Bucky in their kitchen and make some plans.

A/N:  I wasn’t intending to have a short hiatus but real life intruded. I am working on catching up, however, and this is my first peace offering. I thought about adding angst to the warnings, but for the first time, I don’t think the angst is enough to worry about. This chapter wasn’t difficult to write; I just didn’t have any time to do it. 😄🤷  I hope it’s as much fun to read as it was to write, because I had a blast with this one.

Edit: Added banner by @hellzzzbelle and keep reading break. I should probably not get these ready to post when I’m severely sleep deprived.

Part Nine here

Texts from reader in italic indents; Texts from Bucky in bold indents.

 Monday night saw Bucky laying on his bed reading and trying to ignore the faint lingering scent you’d left behind. He loved that his bed still smelled like you, but it was entirely too distracting when he was trying to concentrate. Why he’d decided to major in chemistry as a pre-med student he didn’t know, especially on nights like these when he was being smothered in endless, tedious reading.

Even though he hadn't seen you since Saturday morning, he'd been in a phenomenal mood ever since. Watching you grill Steve had been not only fun, but informative. Discovering that Steve's date was your friend, that you'd introduced them in the hopes that they would hit it off, had been both a surprise and a relief to Bucky.

Surprise because he had assumed you and Steve had been getting closer to dating rather than further away but setting him up with someone else sure made it seem like you were looking elsewhere. Bucky was determinedly ignoring the guilt still sitting in the back of his mind. A small, snide voice would not stop reminding him that Steve may have still been looking at you until you set him onto the mysterious Peggy. That same voice also kept pointing out that if you hadn't been looking at Steve, it might have been because you were too busy looking at Bucky.

Relief and elation were currently drowning out that guilt, however. Relief because he knew now you weren't hurting because Steve had gone out with someone else, had, in fact, picked out the shirt that had so offended Bucky. Elation because he wasn't a consolation prize; you hadn't turned to him out of a need for comfort, but because you'd wanted him with the same mindless desire he had for you.

His current mood also might have something to do with the fact that the last time he'd seen you, earlier today, you'd been across the street running to class as he'd been on his way back to his apartment. You'd paused when he'd wolf whistled at you and given him a long, hot look out of hungry eyes and a sassy grin before you'd blown him a kiss and resumed your quickstep. That look had set him up all day long.

A hint of blue in the corner of his room caught his eye. You’d left the bra you’d been wearing the other night on his floor. He’d hidden it from Steve under a pile of clothes, but they’d shifted and exposed a little of that pretty color. He got an idea and hopped up with a grin.

He grabbed the bra and propped it up on the table he used as a desk. He then grabbed a note card and a sharpie and jotted a quick note:

If you want to see this again, come hang out with me. I miss you. – Bucky

He set the note against the bra and snapped a picture on his phone, sending it to you in a text message. Smiling in anticipation, he settled back on the bed with his phone on his stomach, his book back in his hand, and his eyes unseeing on the page as he grinned.

You heard your phone buzz with a text message but ignored it. You’d put your phone on silent while you did your calculus homework for a reason. You had to take insanely hard math for your degree; you had to concentrate, at the very least while in mid-problem.

Once you'd gotten to a spot where you didn't think your brain would melt if you took a break, you picked up the phone to check what you'd missed. Bucky's message made you grin. You had been planning to get the bra back when you went over for your session with Steve, but if Bucky wanted to ransom it, you'd play along. You snapped a quick picture of the textbook and pages of equations spread across your bed and sent it along with a quick message.

I miss you, too. 😘

Figuring you weren't going to be getting any work done for the next little bit, you decided to stretch your legs and grab a snack. You stuffed your phone in your back pocket and opened your bedroom door into the living room. Padding toward the kitchen on bare feet, you waved at Nat and Gamora as you walked by. Gamora was quizzing Natasha in Mandarin; she was learning multiple languages with an eye toward pre-law.

"Ni hao," you chirped as you passed on your way to the kitchen on light feet, feeling smug. Whatever was going on with you and Bucky, you were having fun. Right now, you were something more than friends, something less than lovers, but the discovery of what exactly you could be to each other was turning out to be incredibly exhilarating.

You were staring into the fridge, ostensibly trying to decide what to eat, but in reality you were daydreaming about that wicked smile Bucky had shot you from across the street earlier. Whatever else, you knew Friday night was not going to be a one-and-done. He was simply too delectable to resist.

You straightened when your phone vibrated in your pocket, coming to a sudden decision and grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge. You leaned on the counter that separated your kitchen from your living room with your elbows and forearms flat and smiled indulgently at the phone in your hand.

Bucky's message had taken a few minutes because he'd spent most of that time staring at your message with a big, dumb grin on his face. He knew he was being ridiculous, that your message could hardly be taken for a protestation of unending devotion, but he couldn't help himself. For the first time, he felt like everything he wanted was within his grasp. 

Huh. It’s cool that you’re learning an alien language but now I'm worried that trying to understand extraterrestrials might break your brain. Is there anything I can do to help?

Not wanting to push it, but desperate to keep the conversation going, he added the little bit at the end as an invitation. He didn't want to fuck up your studies, but he needed to talk to you, to know that he wasn’t merely dreaming, that you were with him in this. Hoping his stupid joke would make you smile, he grinned like an idiot when your response came through.

😄 Says the chem major. But it's standard for engineering, so I'm afraid there's nothing you can do. How are you holding up?

Bucky wasn’t the only one grinning like an idiot. You were also stretching one leg and twisting it back and forth as you beamed at the phone in your hand and typed out your response. Gamora lifted an eyebrow in your direction, shifting Nat’s amused attention to you, not that you noticed.

Bucky, meanwhile, was delighted to see you were willing to keep the conversation going. He was still absently carrying his book around, though he was long since done paying attention to anything but you. He crossed to the desk and went to grab a cigarette out of the pack when he realized he still had the book in his hand. He tossed it on the desk rather than give up the phone, too focused on both answering you as a friend and as a flirt. He sent two texts, one right after the other.

Chem is mostly about algebra, thank god, because I hate calculus. I'm doing okay. I only cried twice this week. I also hate anatomy.

You know, you could come over here and study. Or I could come over there. Then we wouldn't miss each other. 😏

You didn’t know it, but your face was easily giving you away to Nat and Gamora. The two women were much alike, with oddly similar trauma in their childhoods. Natasha was there on a gymnastics scholarship, which was also how she and Gamora met. You didn’t know much, but she’d been born and raised in Russia. Though she was too young to have trained under the Soviet gymnastics model, remnants of that worldview had remained active in post-Soviet Russia. Natasha had gotten caught in one of those remnants. They had made her a phenomenal gymnast and a deeply traumatized woman. She, like Gamora, had a watchful care that made it difficult to hide anything from her.

Right now, your face was sly, an expression they’d seen; but you were biting your lip in breathless excitement, something neither of them had seen in years. Altogether, your body language would have been obvious to anyone with a rudimentary understanding of what a human flirting looks like. You were as subtle as neon.

Once at the open window, Bucky lit the cigarette and kept an ear tuned toward your apartment in the hopes that he would hear something to add to this amazing interaction. He was wrapped up in this minor chitchat with you as though he thought you were about to impart the meaning of life. When your next text came through, he felt like you had.

Why you lying to me like that? 🤨 I happen to know for a fact that is demonstrably untrue. You showed your appreciation for my anatomy quite thoroughly the other night.

Which is how I know we won't get any studying done if we "study" together.

“Who’re you texting, sis?” Gamora called out, using the nickname she used only when she knew you were up to something.

“Nowhere,” you replied, loudly, your voice a little panicked.

Bucky couldn't hear every word coming out of your apartment through the open balcony door, the approaching summer making the fresh air a necessity as the temperature climbed, but he heard enough. Gamora's voice came through loud and clear and he assumed she was closer to the door. As she spoke your text reply came through, and for the first time since Saturday morning you acknowledged what had changed between you. The opening of that subject had him rock hard and riveted.

Now that you'd opened it, he was happy to continue it. When he heard your pathetic response to Gamora's question, a wicked smile bloomed on his face. His eyes sparkling, he tapped out a quick reply.

Baby, I don't appreciate your anatomy. I worship it. And I'll gladly do so again whenever you'd like. And you're right, if I have your anatomy in front of me, I'm gonna want to study you, not my textbook.

Bucky had this expression, this curve to his lips, a dip to his eyelids, a lift to his cheek that caused irreconcilable desires within you. On the one hand, that smug, you-know-want-me smirk made you want to punch him.

To help you protect yourself, and give you (and Steve, who had these lessons also) a better chance of winning one of the many, many fights one or both of you started, Bucky had taught you the basics of bare-knuckled boxing. Sometimes, you wanted to use your fist and everything you'd learned to wipe that smile off his pretty fucking face.

On the other hand, he was right, the fucker. You did want him, and that smirk just reminded you of it, made you want to curl and coil around him like a serpent in search of warmth.

Since you’d now seen him smirking like that while in the throes of passion, his eyes burning and his heart pounding against yours, you had begun to fear that the second desire had become dominant. If you could have seen Bucky as he typed his response, wearing that smirk in spades, you’d have known you were doomed.

The response itself made you squeak a little in agitation as you remembered just how much you'd enjoyed exactly what he described. You'd certainly felt worshipped, and the knowledge that he saw it the same way had your knees going to rubber. However, you couldn’t forget you weren't alone. Because you could see Gamora and Natasha watching you out of your peripheral vision (you were not going to look at them you were not going to look at them you were not going to look at them), you knew you they were about to get nosy.

Going for casual, you straightened and turned around to lean with your back against the counter, tapping out a response as quickly as possible. You didn't know why, but you wanted to keep this flirtation between only you and Bucky for a little while longer. There was something exciting about keeping it secret, though you were doing a terrible job of keeping it.

Straight up? I can't do this right now because both G and Nat are looking at me like they're onto me. Also I have to finish that calc, and there's no way I can do that while trying not to think about fucking you.

Bucky's heart kicked like a mule when he saw your text. He'd always cherished your style of honesty, especially with him, but this was new. He fucking adored this kind of honesty on this exact subject. The blunter you wanted to be in expressing how you wanted him, the more enthralled he was.

So, changing the subject, I took both calculus and algebra this term, like a moron, so I've cried every day. I'm expecting to spend all of dead week in tears.

Still trying to maintain that casual demeanor, you grabbed your water bottle and an orange out of the bowl of fruit on the counter and headed back to your room, keeping your eyes trained on your phone. You didn't even look at Nat and Gamora out of the corner of your eye, too terrified to be caught by one or both. Since you were studiously ignoring them, you didn't see them watch you walk by, identical pitying looks on their faces.

You thought you had a chance of escaping without an explanation. They shared a look. Cute.

Meanwhile, Bucky was having to talk himself out of pushing, of seeing if you were as easily diverted by this subject as he was. He didn't want to go back to his reading, didn't want to let you go back to your equations. He wanted to keep going, to tell you he'd dreamed of you every night since the night you spent together, wanted to ask if you'd done the same.

Bucky stubbed out the cigarette and was considering going to the kitchen for a beer when your answer came in. He wasn’t hearing anything out of your apartment now, so he wandered out of his room, his attention still on his phone. Instead of testing the boundaries, he typed a response that mostly disguised his baser urges, at least for the moment.

Let me know if and when you'd like to come back to this conversation, gorgeous. I'm FASCINATED.

You rolled your eyes in exasperation, but only because your skin was heating just thinking about the other night. You made it into your bedroom before you sighed long and loud in pure lust, leaning against your door. You jumped when your phone vibrated in your hand.

I'll accept the change of subject. For now. 😏 And if you need a shoulder, mine's always available, babygirl.

When you sighed this time, it was pure romance. You knew it was silly, that the offer of a shoulder to cry on was hardly a declaration of undying love and fidelity. But something about the sexual invitation immediately followed by the emotional one was another slug in that useless vest of yours.

Giggling happily, you hopped onto your bed as you texted Bucky back, giving in and enjoying the giddy anticipation for once instead of trying to stifle it.

Good to know. 😊 Now, about that bra. Is there a time frame on when I can ransom it with my company?

As he passed by Steve's studio, Bucky saw the light underneath the door that told him his roommate was once again working late into the evening. It wasn't until the last couple of months that Steve had taken to working behind closed doors. Bucky wanted to knock, to nose his way in and find out what Steve was hiding, but he was busy hiding secrets of his own. Keeping his head down, he walked by without a sound as he replied.

Nope. Only rule is: if you want it, you gotta come and get it.

You were sitting cross-legged on your bed, the papers and books scattered around you long forgotten. You hadn’t had this much fun flirting with anyone in forever. There was something about the way the old melded with the new, the familiar with the unfamiliar, that left you breathless.

You can't be that lazy.

Bucky laughed out loud when he straightened from his stoop to check his phone. He'd grabbed a beer as he went, turning with the intention of raiding the cupboards for anything salty and crunchy he could find in there. Once he'd snagged a bag of chips to go with his beer, he started back toward his room with his thumb tapping out the honest truth, hoping you'd accept it.

I'm not. I miss you that much.

Bucky’s answer had you sighing again, a smile wide and dreamy stretching across your face. Not that you'd admit it to anyone, least of all yourself, but there was a fair amount of giddy anticipation making your heart jump in the kind of excitement that comes from hope.

As soon as I have a spare minute, it's yours. 😊

Bucky sat on the side of his bed to stare at your response, a happy but baffled smile on his face.

Somehow, he was charming you, though he didn’t really understand how. He knew how to talk his way into a woman’s bed. He’d never tried to talk his way into anyone’s heart. But still, every time he saw you, spoke to you, he saw you open a little more to the love he wanted to give you.

Dizzy with delight, but still confused, he fell back on what he was good at. When he saw what he’d typed, however, he decided to let it stand, curious to see how you’d respond.

Do I get to decide what to do with that minute?

You laughed out loud when you saw Bucky’s text, unaware that two sets of ears were listening outside your door and two sets of eyes were narrowing in suspicion. You figured Bucky was up to something, but your curiosity insisted you play along.

I was all, how much trouble can me and Bucky get up to in single minute? and now I’m laughing so hard I might die. But sure. Why the fuck not? 😉

This time it was Bucky’s turn to laugh out loud, delighted with you and the world in general. He hadn’t expected this conversation to turn out as well as it had, but he’d discovered that the thoughts he’d always kept to himself had a match in you. The knowledge was intoxicating.

You ARE trouble, babygirl. Not that that’s a bad thing. I loved being in trouble. Please, let me know if and when I can get in trouble again.

Oof. Bucky somehow managed to find a way with every word to make you feel insanely sexy. He seemed enchanted, addicted to you and the thought was dizzying in its power and possibilities. What if you were enough?

Your heart pounding, an excited smile on your face, you took a chance.

Soon. I adore the way you get in trouble. Have a good night, pretty boy. 😘

Bucky’s laugh had drifted in through the open balcony door and though Natasha and Gamora were listening at your bedroom door, the dark beauty had ears like a cat and heard it easily. Silently, she indicated that Nat should stay at your door while she moved closer to the balcony.

When your final text came through, Bucky muttered, “Sexiest woman on the planet, I swear to god,” and fell back onto his bed to stare at the ceiling in starry-eyed frustration. He shrugged philosophically. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d made do with his hand and thoughts of you. He was simply grateful to now have memories instead of only dreams.

Gamora heard Bucky’s low exclamation and smiled in amusement. Once it became clear that the fun was over for the moment, she and Natasha settled back on the couch and very quietly discussed the situation. Nat, still wary and unwilling to see you hurt so badly again, was less enthused than Gamora, who approved as long as you were happy.

Still, Nat liked to hear you giggling like a girl even if she rolled her eyes. Though she was wary, she agreed to give Bucky the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise. Gamora, on the other hand, fully intended to help Bucky woo and win you in any way she could.

She'd thought that your plan to seduce Bucky had been the dumbest thing you'd ever come up with, but based on what little you'd confided about your night with him, Gamora had come to the conclusion that Bucky was as stupid in love with you as you with him. In that case, as long as you kept sashaying cheerfully around the apartment she was on his side and working on his behalf. She understood Natasha’s wariness, but the fact was she’d never seen you happier.

She just hoped he didn’t fuck it up.

The following Friday saw you sitting for Steve for the final time. He was working on the last of the four works that made up his final project and this was the last chance the two of you had to get together before it was due. Thankfully, he was nearly done; he only wanted to see if one last sitting added anything special to this last one.

Steve's final project was four works, each in a different medium and depicting mythical or legendary creatures. Working together over the last few months, the two of you had found a rhythm that allowed you to express a mood or emotion with your face and form in a way Steve could interpret into images. The nature and depth of your relationship had given him an opportunity to do so in a way he would not have had with another model. It had been the best challenge he'd ever set himself and he was incredibly proud of the work he'd done.

Not only was he thrilled with what you'd helped him create, he was deeply grateful for the chance to deepen and strengthen his friendship with you. Over the course of a school term, the two of you had forged an even stronger bond than ever before. The act of trusting him with your body like this made you vulnerable in a way almost more powerful because of its lack of a sexual component.

Steve had been intensely aware of both that vulnerability and the trust you'd shown him in allowing it. His care in the face of that vulnerability had cemented the certainty that he was the best friend anyone could ever hope for. After everything the two of you had been through together, you had already trusted Steve with your life. Now, however, you'd trusted him with your psyche, and he'd taken the utmost of care. You could count on him, no matter what, beyond a shadow of a doubt. You knew it, because you knew him now as well as you knew yourself.

Which is how you knew the creative process was frustrating him at the moment, rather than energizing him as it did when it went well. You wondered what he was struggling with and hoped forcing him out of his head with conversation would help.

"Last one, huh?" You spoke into the quiet, but it was easy, as were the words, and the sound didn't break the silence so much as scatter it. "I'm kind of going to be sad. It was a unique experience."

Steve looked over at you to find you smiling sweetly at him. He smiled sweetly back, but you still weren't wearing the expression he was looking for. He needed something mischievous to match the Kelly-green frock coat hanging mostly open and giving you a rakish look. His lips twisted wryly, thinking back to that first horribly awkward day.

"I know what you mean. Nerve-wracking, but ultimately worth it."

"Right!?" Your voice was happy and excited, and your smile spread to light up your face. "I feel like we're better friends now than we were when we started." Your tone softened, as did your expression as you continued. "It means the world to me. You mean the world to me, Steve."

Steve's cheeks flamed and he ducked his head, a pleased and tender smile on his face. "Feeling sentimental, huh?" he teased.

You lifted a brow. "You're not? Then why are you blushing so hard?"

His face went even redder, if that was possible, and he struck back, partly to tease, partly because he couldn't stand it anymore. "If we're better friends now, why don't you want to talk to me about what's going on with you and Bucky?"

Steve felt like a dick when the smile fell from your face. "Wow." You blinked in surprise at the sudden change of subject. "I didn't know you’d been practicing your passive aggression," you shot back, then immediately regretted it at the look of chagrin that crossed Steve's face.

You'd always been honest with Steve, however, and you felt guilty shutting him out. You just weren't sure what to say, really. You figured you might as well tell him that. "Because I don't know what's going on with me and Bucky," you sighed.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Come on! I’m dying of curiosity over here!" He fixed you with a suspicious look that made your lips twitch in exactly the way he was looking for and his attention immediately shifted back to the painting even as he kept speaking to prompt more of that mischief to light your face. "Bucky’s been in a great mood all week. And you’ve been conspicuously absent."

"Would you like to do my homework?" Your eyebrows lifted in challenge even as the gossip about Bucky sank in. He had been a ray of sunshine every time you'd texted with him but hearing about his cheerful disposition from Steve made you wonder if it had the same cause as yours. You were getting confident enough in whatever was between the two of you to bet that it did.

"I would not." Steve replied quickly and firmly. He wanted nothing to do with your homework, considering you took science classes as electives.

You grinned and Steve got to work adding the lightest of shadows to your face to capture that roguish expression. "I’ve been buried. I feel like we’re barreling towards finals--," Steve slanted you a look of pure commiseration at that, "--and I want to put in an appearance at the boys’ frat party tonight. Gamora asked me to go in case she needs help with Quill. I had to bust ass to have the time to waste on a party."

Now that you mentioned it, Steve could see the signs of sleeplessness around your eyes. Your sunny disposition masked it well, but you were clearly very tired. He understood well. The end of term had snuck up on him, too. It wasn’t the first time and he didn’t expect it to be the last.

“Why would she need your help?” he asked, well aware Gamora was more than capable of dealing with Peter Quill.

Your mouth twisted in sympathy tinged with amusement. Quill had been chasing Gamora all year, but she had been only barely receptive. She had a soft spot because he had a roguish charm that made her smile and a genuinely good heart for all he hid it behind humor and a thoughtless careen through life. She claimed she wasn't interested, but you suspected she didn't want to be, which you knew from experience was a very different thing.

You shrugged, not sure why yourself, and gave Steve the same excuse she'd given you. "In case she decides to turn him down again. She’s afraid she might actually break him this time."

Steve raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment, too focused on the hint of white he was brushing along the curve of your lower lip. He didn't ask again, knowing that he would only need to stay silent long enough. He knew you'd give in eventually if he gave you enough time to feel guilty.

He wasn't wrong, but not for the reason he thought. When he wanted you to feel guilty enough to give in, he gave you what you privately thought of as the eyebrows of disappointment. You couldn't stand this look for more than a couple of minutes. You always gave in because he looked so damn sad and you just couldn't resist it. That didn't mean you liked it.

"Ugh!" you exclaimed, the sad, shamed feeling crawling up your spine and making it impossible to keep silent in the face of that particular expression. Giving in, you continued, telling Steve some of the truth, "Bucky is being… sweet." Your face softened as you thought of the brief but electrifying chat you'd had with him the night before. "Attentive. He texts me every day just to check on me." You shrugged, going for casual, but Steve could see the stars in your eyes. Though it wasn't the expression he needed, he still loved to see you so happy, especially considering who was responsible.

"Last night he texted me on his way home," you went on. Now that you were confiding in Steve, you wanted to keep going, if for no other reason than you needed another brain to help you figure this out and no one knew Bucky better than Steve. "I told him I was slogging through my reading for molecular biology and dreaming about a latte. Twenty minutes later he was at my door with a salted caramel cold brew. I don't know what's going on." The last you said with a touch of petulance that had Steve's lips twitching.

"Sounds like Bucky wants to be your boyfriend." Steve spoke casually, but completely honestly. Bucky hadn't treated anyone that way since high school, when he'd been chasing Dot, the last girl he'd dated seriously. He couldn't help himself; when his heart was engaged, Bucky always went overboard.

Steve realized when your gaze turned inward as you considered his words that he may not have gotten the mischievous smile he'd been looking for, but he'd gotten something far better. His hand was careful but sure as he added the light that had come into your eyes at the realization that you'd have said the same thing if Bucky had been treating anyone but you this way. That astonishing thought led to ideas of how you could test the concept.

Steve didn't know what gave your sly smile the sultry edge it had, but he also didn't really want to ask. He simply appreciated that he'd finally gotten the mischief he'd needed to finish his work.

Bucky twisted the knob on his front door with his heart pounding. He shouldn’t have skipped class again, but he couldn’t make himself go when there was a chance he’d find you here alone.

He had noticed a pattern. If he was right, and you were here, he hoped he could talk you into staying awhile. The smell of fresh coffee had his breath catching. He dropped his bag next to the door and moved toward the kitchen.

He went hard as a rock when he stepped into the kitchen to find you standing at the sink, rinsing out your coffee cup. “Oh, babygirl,” he murmured, his voice already heating, as he leaned against the doorframe. “What are you doing here?”

Your heart had started racing as soon as the sound of the front door closing verified that your dawdling hadn’t been in vain. The mischievous smile Steve had been looking for earlier spread across your face as you set the cup in the sink and turned slowly. "Same thing I’m usually doing on a Friday morning," you replied and braced yourself against the counter, letting the edges of your robe fall open to bare a leg.

Bucky's eyes dropped immediately to that bare expanse of skin, his mind quickly falling into speculation as to how much more of your skin was bare underneath that infuriatingly tantalizing robe. "Which is?" he rumbled as he pushed away from the frame to ease toward you.

"None of your beeswax." Your eyebrow lifted in challenge as you shot him a teasing smirk. You shifted as Bucky approached, but neither away nor in denial.

Rather, your posture seemed to open and invite so that he was smirking in response by the time he stopped in front of you, his arm coming up to grab a coffee cup from the cabinet behind your right shoulder. He was close enough that you could feel the heat of his body seeping into yours.

“Uh-huh,” he retorted as he set the cup on the counter and reached around you for the coffee pot “And why are you still here?” he asked with a knowing smile as he poured coffee simply for the excuse to stay close to you. “Steve should be gone by now.”

“He is.” You weren’t certain Bucky was asking if you were alone, but you confirmed it anyway. “I was finishing my coffee. Do you go to class anymore?”

The sound of sultry teasing in your voice combined with the challenging yet inviting body language had Bucky’s breath shuddering out on a laugh as he put the coffee pot back. “How could I when I knew you might be here waiting for me?” he murmured. Instead of picking up the cup, he moved closer, his hands gripping the counter on either side of you, caging you in with his big, sexy body.

You lifted your hands to slide them slowly up his chest, fascinated by the way his eyes fired in response. “Cocky. Why would that matter?”

“Not cocky,” he rumbled, his arms coming around you and his body pressing to yours, “starving.” His head dipped to breathe into your ear as his hands began to roam over your back. “Because I just can’t stay away from you.”

In the next moment, his mouth was on yours and you were drowning in him once again. You knew you should be worried at how quickly he had you desperate for him, but since he seemed similarly afflicted, you gave yourself up to the heat, letting your heart lead this time, if only a little.

By the time Bucky reluctantly pulled his mouth away to rest his forehead against yours, his hands had a firm grip on your ass as he pressed you firmly together. Your hands were fisted in the hair he’d let grow almost to his shoulders and you were using the leverage to arch and rub against him. “Tell me to stop, babygirl.” His voice was a rasp, and though the words were a warning, the tone was a dare. “I can't stop myself, not when it comes to you.”

“What if I don’t want you to stop?” You didn’t know how or why, but something about the way Bucky treated you, a glint in his eye, the brush of his hand, allowed you to find this seductive creature inside yourself. Powerful in your confidence, and to Bucky’s eyes the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, again, you pulled away to yank at the tie at your waist. Running your hand under the edge to bare yourself to his gaze, you shot him a coy smile and bit your lip.

Bucky’s hands immediately accepted your invitation, following your hand to leave you naked in front of his burning gaze. “Good god,” he almost moaned as you arched into his touch, his hands wandering ever more frantically over you, “is this for me?”

As his hands closed around your bare ass, you boosted yourself up, with his enthusiastic assistance, to wrap your legs around his waist. Your mouth a breath from his, you smiled. “I can’t stay away, either.”

Awhile later, you were still wearing your robe, on one shoulder at least, while you caught your breath pressed between the kitchen table at your back and an equally winded Bucky Barnes at your front.

“Holy shit,” you croaked, your normal voice off somewhere with the rest of your breath.

Bucky wheezed out a laugh in response. “You're dangerous, babygirl," he murmured as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. "You should have a warning sign on you, like 'Caution: Highly Combustible'."

"Me!?" you exclaimed in mock outrage, prompting Bucky to lift his head so he could see the look on your face. He loved your expressions when you teased him like this, playful and sweet. "You're the dangerous one; everyone knows it." You went on with a raised eyebrow in playful challenge as you pushed at his chest to indicate you wanted to sit up.

Bucky reluctantly disentangled himself from you, though he'd rather have scooped you up to take you to his bed for the rest of the day. He knew that wasn't an option, however, not this close to finals. He'd never be able to talk you into it. He hiked his boxers and jeans back up; he'd been too frantic to be inside you to bother undressing beyond the necessary to make that happen. You'd been too frantic to complain.

He collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs and grinned at you as you sat up and pulled your robe from its tangle around you to slip your bare arm into the other sleeve. "Obviously we've come to different conclusions. We should collect more data." He was smiling sweetly, which had you opening your mouth to retort but you stopped at his next words. "Let me take you out tonight, just you and me. Dinner, a movie, dancing, whatever you want."

Your hands slowed as you tied the robe closed around your waist, though your heart was racing again, this time in hopeful excitement. "Like a date?" you asked, your voice carefully casual.

"Yes." Bucky's voice was anything but casual, and had your eyes lifting to his as they blazed with intensity. "Exactly like a date."

Your expression turned sweet, and Bucky knew he'd made the right call in asking you out like this. He wanted to show you how special you were to him, so he hadn't considered the usual trappings, but he could see he needed to be direct in his intentions as long as you wouldn’t let him speak his heart.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Bucky.” You were feeling shy and vulnerable, so you got to your feet to allow the robe to swirl around and cover your body.

Bucky hopped up to snag you around the waist and squeeze, making you giggle. “Really?” he asked excitedly, and you realized he was as caught up in this as you were. The thought settled you more than anything else had. “Whatever you wanna do, name it.”

You had opened your mouth to answer when you remembered your promise to Gamora. “Fuck!” you exclaimed, fighting the urge to whine. “I promised Gamora I go to that stupid frat party with her.” You rolled your eyes and sagged petulantly in his arms as you’d done a thousand times before.

Bucky simply tightened his arms, used to your antics of old and happy to play the classic games, absence not making the heart grow any fonder, because he’d always loved you, but making the heart more steadfast, now that it knew the pain of missing you. “Tomorrow, the next day, whenever?” He grinned as he nearly begged.

You straightened to wrap your arms around his neck and look into his eyes. You were seeing everything you needed and wanted there but you couldn’t yet believe you weren’t seeing it only because you wanted to. Still, you were willing to try. “I’m swamped until after finals, but I promise we’ll go out on a date as soon as my last final is done.”

Bucky’s face lit up like the sun and took your breath away. “I’m holding you to that, babygirl.”

“Come with us tonight,” you heard yourself saying and hoped to god you didn’t end up regretting attending a frat party with Bucky considering what happened last time.

His lips twisted wryly, and you wondered if he was thinking the same thing you were. As a matter of fact, he was, but he was also dismissing it as immaterial because he didn’t plan on leaving your side the entire night. “Where would you put my chances of talking you into a closet to make out?”

The roguish grin he shot you had your shoulders relaxing. “Well,” you replied in a considering tone, “that was one of my fantasies in high school, so… high eighties?” You finished with a shrug and your mischievous smile.

“You, too?” he asked with wide eyes and a self-satisfied smirk even as he sweetly nuzzled your nose and mouth with his own. “Then I’m fuckin’ in.”

Part Eleven here

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[tmntxreader-fics]

TMNT Raphael x Reader: A Damaged Love

Request: 

@skywolf42   Ooh I have prompt for you!! RaphaelxReader where the Reader character gets in an argument with Raphael and flinches and freezes up at some point when he gets mad. Raph is immediately guilty that he's done something to make the Reader think he'd ever hit them, not understanding at first that it was a subconscious response due to physical abuse at the hands of a masculine figure at some point in the Reader's life. 

I took a different take on this, and added some 2007 Raph elements to it. Made it a little bit darker. Raph goes a little too far. 

WARNINGS: Cussing (as usual), mention of physical abuse, angst, and typos because I’m a dumb bitch. Violent anger. ANGRY RAPH. like, Unreasonable 2007 Raph angry. 

Fem Reader this time around.

‘Every couple squabbles.’

 At least, that’s what they say. That’s what you had told yourself when you were ignoring the ringing in your ears.

They say that ‘the arguments make the relationship stronger, make them healthier.’ With delicious irony, you remember repeating that one beneath your breath quite regularly; especially the nights when your purple jaw ached. 

‘Now that everything has been spilled into the air, you can both work on coming to a compromise together.’ On the contrary, you discovered that attempting to “compromise” simply resulted in a doomed-to-be-overdue hospital bill.

Now, on your second attempt at playing a role within a relationship, you realize that the first point was correct; every couple does squabble. Or, as you have found to be more accurate, they go to war. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

With a tragic spark of displaced humor, you consider the fact that this is the first time you have heard Raphael direct those words at you, rather than his enemies. Venturing further into your morbid curiosity, you wonder if, perhaps at this moment, you are his enemy. 

You suppose that you should have seen the burst of volume coming, really. It was bound to arrive between both of your voices rising in a steady crescendo. The predictability of the explosion was evident, so you’re unsure as to why it had shocked you so intensely. 

Maybe it was the words in which he had spoken, or perhaps, the way he had so aggressively pointed his finger towards you; accompanied by a menacing step. 

“Excuse me?” Your tone is the perfect picture of aggravated bewilderment. Now you understand how people could be so taken aback that they question the reliability of their hearing. “What did you just say to me?” 

“What, are you deaf? You heard me,” Raphael snarls, pacing from side to side as if he were a caged animal. Maybe he is, you muse. Perhaps he holds a barely contained animalistic anger; simmering beneath that rough, viridescent skin. Something that not even the Mutagen could evolve; or possibly, it’s responsible for encouraging the aggression. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Your voice is ripped from your lips in a bellow, your anger almost tangible. “What makes you think that you can talk to me like that?”

“You think you’re fuckin’ special?” he sneers, the simple sentence acting like a spear to your chest. The terrapin spins on his heels to face you, raising his finger once again to point at you accusingly. “You think that just ‘cos you’re my girlfriend, that means I can’t get mad at ya?” 

Your jaw drops in indignant disbelief, “there’s mad and then there’s this!” 

“You started this!” He growls, inhaling sharply in a poor attempt to maintain composure, “I didn’t fuckin’ come for you, you provoked me!”

Taking a step back from his overbearing presence, you return his words with a humourless snicker, “of course, it’s my fault.” 

“Yeah, it is,” Raphael snaps, eyes boring holes into your own; as if he were praying that looks could kill. Your stomach churns, clearly understanding the intent behind that gaze. 

“Of course it is! When have you ever taken responsibility for your own fuck-ups?” The words leave your lips before you can help yourself. You know instantly that you’ve just poured fuel over an already flaming fire. You could almost see the uncontrollable rage spread from his chest throughout his body. 

Still, despite the signs, you’re unable to prevent yourself from stumbling backward when the wooden table explodes into splintered pieces beneath his fist. You’ve fallen uncomfortably into the bench, tripping on the heel of your own shoe in your desperate attempt to gain space between you and the destructive beast on the other side of the room. Despite the blatant fear your new position exclaims, leaning back against the support of a metal structure with fingers that grip the edges for comfort, you cannot bring yourself to move. 

You try to stand to your feet and straighten up before he can turn around and see you. Before he can witness the power his anger has over you, the humiliating way you cower from his explosive outburst. Your body barely budges an inch at your mental commands and you remain frozen to your place.

Habit is not easily broken, your body reminds you. 

You know, logically, that Raphael would never hurt you. But, as much as you’d like to trust yourself, your logic has led you seriously wrong before. Your fiery nature has only brought you to once conclusion in your relationships, and they started off just like this. Just once. Just one fight. Just one blow. Then it never stopped. 

All is quiet, except for the heavy breathing that fills the room. Distantly, you remember that Mikey had carved that table himself as a kid; it was lopsided and ugly but he had made that. It was a piece of their childhood, a fond memory- and Raphael had just obliterated it without a second thought. 

You stand torn, staying put leaves you in the ‘danger zone’ and leaving the room is basically a flashing neon sign screaming ‘weakness’. You had promised yourself to grow stronger in the face of the opposition, to challenge and at the first sign of violence, to leave. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” His voice is hoarse; breaking the silence so suddenly that you jump a little. His shell is turned to you, though you can tell that he is hunched over a little; shoulders heaving with the weight of your words. 

“I asked you the same question and you didn’t answer,” the reply leaves your lips as a rasp. The longer you dwell on the thought of Mikey’s face when he sees the damage the stronger your resentment towards Raphael becomes. You find that you want to grind your teeth until there’s nothing left but small shards of bone; you want to clutch his world in your hands and burn it to ashes. With the rage rushing through your blood you find the energy to at least stand and somewhat straighten your stance. You’ve never felt such unfathomable wrath towards somebody that you genuinely love, even against those of whom you had thought you loved. 

Perhaps, it’s because you love him and you know it’s mutual that it hurts to see the relationship take a tragically familiar path. Is this the inevitable truth of love? Is it simply a means to an end? Could it be that love is so desired that they hide the horrors of it behind a quaint picture, and collectively everyone drinks it in like a sweet cocktail of poison. They thirst for it because they think that the high is worth the consequences, that the repercussions of love are the lesser of two evils- the other being loneliness.  

“You want me to answer your question?” His voice interrupts your train of thought. Turning your gaze to your partner’s hulkish figure you can’t help but shiver when he straightens up, shell still shielding him from your observation. “I’ll tell you exactly who I am.” 

Your heart leaps into your throat when Raphael turns, his eyes narrowed and blazing with a heat that make your instincts scream at you to run. 

One step. 

“I’m Raphael,” he begins. 

Two steps. 

“Now, see, I got a bad, bad, temper.” 

Three steps. 

“But I’m the best at what I do; putting a fist through someone’s jaw is how I get off.” 

Four steps. He’s halfway across the room now. 

“Now, I got a girlfriend. She talks big for someone who’s half my size.” 

Five steps. You stomach lurches and you can’t help but lean back into the metal bench once more. 

“She reminds me of my brother, can’t stop themselves from tryin’ to dictate my life, correct me at every turn,” his teeth are gritted now, words ground out rather than said. “Of course, they call it guidance.” 

Six steps. Too close. 

“Kinda funny that my girlfriends joined in when you think about the fact that I’m ten times as strong as her.” 

“Raph,” you whisper. Your heart sinks, you know where this is going. You had held out hope that it would never come to this, perhaps you’ve pushed him too far. Maybe this is your fault. 

Ignoring your voice, he takes another step forward. Seven. 

“Faster than her.” 

“Please,” you rasp, gripping the metal beside you in an attempt to not curl up. 

“Bigger than her.” 

Eight. 

He’s in front of you now, his body towering over your trembling self. You can barely breath, your eyes fixated on the fists that are balled at his sides. If it’s coming you might as well make the most of it. 

“What do you want from me?” You burst, voice breaking mid sentence. “What do you want me to say?” 

“I want you to support me!” He snaps. You can feel his breath brushing the top of your head and you lips tremble at the volume of his voice. Don’t break, stay strong. “Why is this so fuckin’ hard for you’s to understand. I don’t want authority I want a partner!”

“Why is it so hard for you to understand that partnership is about guiding someone through their flaws and encouraging them with their strengths,” you whisper shakily. Finally you turn your eyes up to meet his hard expression, watching the way he observes the wateriness of your gaze. “You’re so insecure that you can pinpoint everyone else’s problems but the second yours are addressed you think you’re being attacked and dominated.” 

“Insecure?” 

Perhaps, that was not the best word to throw around when you’re trapped between a metal bench and a 6′5, 340lb angry turtle. 

“I’m insecure? Look who’s talking!” His laugh is a humorless roar and you flinch beneath him.

“I don’t intimidate the people I love to hide my insecurities,” you snap back, gesturing to his aggressive posture. 

“Being intimidating is the only way to shut you’s up! There’s no other way to get you to back off!” He exclaims, throwing his hands up in disbelief. Your stomach clenches, shoulders flinching upwards to your jaw at the sudden movement. 

"What are you a caveman?” You cry, poking your finger into his plastron and straightening your posture in an attempt to cover your previous reaction. Be strong. “Use. Your. Words. Be honest! Be open! No one is gonna understand where the line is if you explode the second we open our mouths. Communicate through your words, your touch, your actions!” 

Your heart is pounding in your chest and you realise instantly that your courageous facade is permanently over when you catch his eyes. The sheer fury. Your body begins to tremble harder than it has in so long, the adrenaline rushing through your body in an attempt to evoke a response. Run, your instincts scream, hide! 

“You want me to use my words?” He sneers, his voice so low you don’t expect the volume from his next sentence. “Then shut the fuck up.” 

He steps in so that your body is pressed between his and the metal digging into your back. Your hands immediately raise up to press against his chest. “Raph....” 

“You want me to use my touch?” His voice is a steady shout now, you distantly wonder whether the boys can hear his bellow from the streets. But you know the truth, that you’re alone. Left at his mercy. 

His hands grip your body by your shoulders and at the sound of your startled cry he lifts you up so that only your toes brush the ground. He shakes you, as if hoping that somehow he could scramble your mind and prevent you from conjuring anymore words. “Then let me shake some sense into ya.” 

Your first sob is overpowered by the roar of his voice, you don’t know if he’s even heard it. You feel as though you’re going to puke any second now and you can’t find your breath. There’s no air. Where’s the air? 

“You want me to use my actions?” He drops his grip on you and your body falls into the bench behind you. “Then here!” 

He leans in and your body is bent backwards over the table before his fists smash into the metal on either side of your body, undoubtedly denting it. 

With that, you break. 

Your body crumples to the floor beneath his feet, hands raised above your head in a feeble attempt to protect yourself. 

Not again. 

There’s a silence before his voice, ever so soft, violates the quiet. He says your name. He says it twice. 

Is this how it’s meant to be? 

He says it three times. 

Please, not again. 

Please. 

He doesn’t touch you, not yet. 

Please. 

Please.

He says your name again, this time his voice sounds as broken as you feel. 

Please. 

He’s apologising, the words sweet nothings lost to the air. The whispers caress your body, curling around your neck in a deceptively loving touch. The words stroke your cheek, touch your lips. 

He says your name again, so softly. So gentle. The hushed tones wait for you to look up, they’re coaxing you to unfurl. But you know; you know from experience that they beckon you so that they can look you in the eyes. So that they can watch you, adoration in their gaze. They want to see your face when they choke you with the very thing that you crave. 

Love.

This is love.