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thebearer · 8 months ago

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making the bed |carmen berzatto x reader| part one

prompt: carmen's stressed. food critics, a newborn baby, balancing work life and married life and now dad life; he's bound to break, everyone knows it. but no one ever thought he'd lash out on you.

or, part one of the devastation fic. based off this ask from the other day. two more parts to come.

contains: mega angst. mega angst, with no resolution in this part. hurt, no comfort (in this chapter, will be later in part 3). mean!carmen, very mean. mom!reader x dad!carmen with newborn teddy. fighting, language, carmen says mean stuff he doesn't mean. past mentions of trauma, family trauma, mikey mentioned. very angsty and a little heavy, please read at your own discretion. word count- 3.5k+.

"Are you ok?"

Carmen now understood why that phrase used to send Donna into such a blind rage, lips pursing and jaw clenching more and more every time he heard it. First at work, then with you, it felt never ending.

It was beginning to feel like critic season with how many were coming in, snooty and demanding to be impressed. It couldn't have come at a worst time, right in the middle of busy season with the start of the holidays. Days at The Bear were filled with frantic panic, running around, making sure everything was perfect, accounted for, and Carmen always had the sinking feeling it wasn't- that he'd forgotten something, messed something up.

It wasn't rare for him to work himself up like this, a normal that you always warned him about, but he'd always had a solitude. As long as he'd known you, he'd had a place to go, to unwind, to let himself rest and reset with you. And he still did, it was just shared now with a newborn.

Dorothea Michelle. Teddy, for short. The light of his life, yours too. Nearly two months old with a set of lungs that sounded much louder, much more developed than that. Nights were long, sleepless, spent trying to lull Teddy back to sleep, awake even if he wasn't up with her. Carmen couldn't allow himself the selfishness to relax, to rewind, to "take it easy" like everyone told him to. At work, he was the boss; at home, he was a dad.

"Fuck, fuck," Carmen's sleepy stare was broken by a lick of bubbling heat, the lamb's roux popping with the high heat, splashing all over Carmen's chef whites.

"Jeff, c'mon," Tina clicked, shaking her head, moving the pan to lower heat. "What're you doin'?"

Carmen grit his teeth, snatching a rag off the stainless steel counter tops, scrubbing the burgundy stain, huffing when it only spread the stain.

"What happened?" Sydney turned, looking from the burnt sauce to Carmen's stained chef shirt. "Oh,"

"Do we have a spare coat?" Carmen huffed, throwing the rag down with a firm smack against the counter.

"I don't think so, Carm." Sydney shook her head. "You took the last ones home with you two days ago. The wine-"

"-I know, Chef, I know." Carmen snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I-I can't fuckin' serve the critics lookin' like this. With shit all over me- fuck."

"Hey, easy, easy," Richie turned the corner, his hands held up. "What's goin' on?"

"Jeff got sauce over him. He doesn't have any clean clothes." Tina muttered, irritated that she had to fix his mess, more irritated that he wasn't taking care of himself. You have a baby, Jeff, you need to rest and take some time, she'd told him. Carmen only waved her off.

"Okay, okay, hey, that's no problem." Richie's voice raised, lifting over Carmen's. "You go home and change, get your spare, check on my beautiful goddaughter, and then come back with your A game. Yes?"

Carmen didn't even humor him with a snarky remark, yanking his coat off and stomping towards the office to grab his things. Richie and Tina looked at each other, shaking their head gently.

"Kids runnin' thin, T." Richie muttered with a sigh. "He's gonna break. It's gonna be bad."

"Yeah, he is. Gonna wear himself out before then." Tina shook her head. "Jeff needs a vacation." They both jumped at the slamming of the backdoor, Carmen's angry exit shaking the foundation.

"Needs to be fuckin' medicated. Fuckin' lunatic." Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes at Carmen's dramatics.

The drive home was filled with silence, Carmen's iron grip on the wheel, tearing through the traffic towards the house- his house, his home.

Home, but it didn't provide the same comfort that it usually did. Carmen's shoulders still stayed tense, buzzing with rage, not dissipating when he thought of you, or of Teddy, knowing you'd both be there, excited to see him.

You jumped at the sound of the car door slamming, peeking out the window to see Carmen's parked next to yours, furiously stomping up the front steps. You frowned, grabbing the baby monitor, walking towards the front door.

Carmen nearly hit you with how fiercely he flung the door open. "Woah," You reached for the door, stopping it before he could flick it shut. "Carm, don't slam it. Teddy's asleep. I just got her down." You frowned at him, shutting it slowly.

Carmen looked at you but didn't speak, looking through you with a rage that had your spine tingling before he finally broke his gaze, stomping towards the laundry room. "Carm? What’re you doing home? Don’t you have dinner soon?" You hesitated slightly, lingering in the doorway with an uncertainty you hadn’t felt with Carmen before.

Carmen didn’t answer, his jaw still ground tight while he rummaged through the clean clothes, carelessly unfolding and shifting the folded clothes.

"Carmen," You said more firmly, caching his gaze. He didn't speak still, just stared at you- through you. "Are you ok?" You lifted a brow, features softening in worry.

Carmen paused, eyes closing, shoulders tensing in agitation. Are you ok? His ears rang, a familiar rage that he hadn't felt in years bubbling up deep in his chest. Frustrated and blinding and rampant, heat rushing through his veins, pulling himself further and further from reality into someplace different- someplace darker in his mind.

"What's wrong?" You pressed, he could barely hear it, ears ringing at your question. "Did something happen? Did the critic come-"

"-Where's my chef whites?" Carmen barked, cutting you off, his chest tightening more and more with every heavy heave of his chest. You flinched at his tone.

"Uh, I-I haven't seen the whites. I washed your white tee-"

“-You what? Y-You what?” Carmen spat, eye widening with a wild, raged glint in his eye. Your stomach flipped and fell with fear, stepping back instinctively.

“I-I washed your tee, Carm, that’s all that you left in the laundry basket-”

"-Are you fucking kidding me?" Carmen boomed, his head spinning, body buzzing with rage. Your breath hitched, frozen in fear at the anger in his tone, the roar of his voice bouncing off the walls, echoing through your ears in a painful drum.

Carmen moved, snatching the dirty clothes basket, dumping it into the ground with a shake until the dirty chef coat fell on top. He gripped the basket, flinging it across the room with a hard throw. The final push to his bad mood that sent him right over the edge, crashing into a pit of blinding fury, aggravation, breaking him from the inside out.

"Fuck!" Carmen roared, his voice shaking the walls, your breath leaving your lungs in a trembling exhale of fear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is- This is- Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

You tensed in shock, gripping the baby monitor in fear, maybe surprise, as it started to buzz to life with Teddy's startled whimpers. Her small cries pulled you out of your frozen state, something deeper than fear replacing the ache in your stomach.

"Carmen-" You gaped, voice wobbling with uncertainty, taking slow shuffled steps towards the stairs. “Carmen, calm-calm down. Ok? Calm down.”

“Calm down? You want me to fuckin’ calm down?” Carmen sneered, an angry red flush blossoming in splotchy deep hues up his neck, towards his cheeks. “You don’t do shit, nothin’ that I fuckin’ ask for! Just sit around all fuckin’ day an-and I’m supposed to calm down?”

“Carmen,” Your voice wobbled, throat tight with tears, hurt and fear strangling your words. “I-You didn’t ask me to wash them. I-I didn’t know. They weren’t in the hamper-”

“-I shouldn’t have to ask you to wash them!” Carmen roared, eyes so wide you thought they might pop right out of his head, neck vein protruding on exemplifying his rage. “You know what I’m going through! You know how much fuckin’ stress I’m under! I go to that-that shit hole, an-and work my fuckin’ ass off so you don’t have to! Then I come home, and I-I can’t even get a second of peace!”

“Stop,” You hiss, finally regaining your composure, his words fully sinking into you now, feeling the full effect of them. “I-I just had a baby. I’m still on maternity leave taking care of a baby- our baby, and I’m tired too. But I’m not yelling at you-”

“-Oh, right. Right.” Carmen laughs sarcastically, humorless as he runs his hand down his face. It felt mocking, left you feeling small and too vulnerable for your liking. “Because in between your napping an-and feeding, you couldn’t stick a fucking jacket in the wash, right? You’re so busy.”

“What is wrong with you?” You snap, hoping he can’t hear the tears in your voice, the way your voice shakes with emotion.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Carmen scoffs, throwing his hands out. “I get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then I come home so I can go back and work my ass off some more, and-and you can’t do one simple fuckin’ thing? You can’t help me out? And then you wanna know what’s wrong with me? When you sit on your ass all fuckin’ day-”

Teddy’s piercing wail pulls you out of your shocked trance, nose and throat burning with hurt filled tears you refuse to shed. Instead, you turn, climbing the stairs on shaky legs, the sound of Teddy’s cries growing louder and louder. Anchovy watches you from the top of the stairs, sensing the tension, your upset, sliding against your leg as if to comfort you.

Carmen scoffs, hands buzzing and trembling with rage, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder with each of your footsteps on the stairs and down the hall. He can barely hear Teddy’s sobs, hands threading through his hair, pulling at his scalp. He sees you walk towards the bedroom, quickly, hugging Teddy to your chest.

“Oh, don’t go fuckin’ do it now!” Carmen roared, your ignoring him only infuriating him further. “It won’t be ready in time now. I’ll just look like a fuckin’ idiot for the critic tonight! Not that you care! Why would you, huh? I-I mean just our livelihood, just our fuckin’ income!”

You swallowed back your tears, head tilting towards the ceiling, hands shaking with every shove of your things into the overnight bag. Just enough to get you through the night, the next day. A few essentials, Teddy’s spare onesies, a charger, your wallet- you stopped mid-shove of your items into the weekender bag, the sun’s rays catching in your wedding ring. Your heart fell, more and more, you weren’t sure how that was even possible.

Carmen’s furious voice was still booming from downstairs, ringing and shaking in his furious fit. Richie and Sugar both warned you about Carmen’s tantrums, brought them up to embarrass him, tease him about it until he was red faced and hissing hushed threats at them. You never, never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be on the receiving end of one.

You jumped, another slam of something Carmen had thrown, maybe hit in a fit of rage, causing Teddy to wail louder, Anchovy skittering nervously away. Tears leaked out of your eyes, twisting the ring off your finger, setting it on Carmen’s bedside table. Pulling the carrier out of the closet, Anchovy got in much easier than usual, which you were thankful for.

Carmen was gripping the marble of the countertop when he heard you again, walking from the bottom of the stairs, quick steps towards the door to the garage, Teddy’s voice nearly hoarse from her crying. You kept your head high, tunnel-visioned towards your car, ignoring his heavy breathing and frantic pacing.

“Wha-What are you doin’?” Carmen’s voice was softer now, still with a jagged edge that was cutting and harsh. The car door opened, the baby carrier hooked into the car seat.

“Hey, wha- what are you- where’re you goin’? What’re you doin’?” Carmen’s heart dropped in a damning rush of hour, stumbling on heavy legs towards the garage. You ignored him, shushing Teddy gently, running a calming hand over her wet cheek, trying to coax her paci into her mouth.

“Baby, no-no, no. Hey, no, I-I- What-” Carmen’s chest felt tight, mind numbing and racing, stuttering nervously. You reached for your bag, his hand reaching to grab the strap. “Whe-Where’re you-”

“-Don’t touch me.” You hissed, teeth bared, eyes shining with tears. Carmen flinched, pulling his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.” You sneered, pinning him with a watery glare that had his stomach turning in sickening fear.

“Baby, hey, w-wait-C’mon, d-don’t-You don’t, you don’t need to do this, ok? I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Carmen choked out the words, frantic and unsure, his hands shaking when they ghosted over you back just for a moment. Wanting to touch you, to hold you, to grab you and keep you from leaving, but too scared to. Instead, he grabbed the car door you flung open, holding it when you tried to yank it closed.

“Let go.” You hissed, sniffling back wet, snotty tears of fury and hurt.

“Please, don’t-do-don’t do this. Please, baby, I-I’m sorry.” Carmen begged, blue eyes deepening with the burning red hues of tears, bloodshot and lashes wet. “Don’t-Don’t do this-”

“-I didn’t do this.” You sneered, leaving Carmen flinching at your words. “Don’t you dare try to say this was me. After how you just talked to me? The shit you said to me in there? You think I’m going to stay?” Your voice cracked with emotion, lips pressing together to keep a cry in.

“No, no, no, no, no, baby, please. Please, ju-just come inside. Come inside, please? Please, don’t-”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. To say that kinda stuff to me. That hurt, Carmen. That was mean.” You glared at him, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. “I don’t care if you’re stressed. I don’t care what’s going on- nothing, and I mean nothing, warrants you talking to me like that. Just because you fucked up, because you forgot to ask me to do it, because you’re stressed out- I don’t care what it is. You don’t talk to me like that, say those things when I’ve been home all day taking care of my ch- our child.” You nod back towards the sniffling baby, whimpering and crying half heartedly, her little eyelids drooping with sleep that was interrupted.

Carmen felt sick, his knees tightening in fear, he was sure they might give out, that he might fall to the ground right there. Looking at the tiny baby, lip jutted and shaking in the mirror hooked on the back of the seat, then back at you, eyes red-rimmed and glaring at him with a hurt filled anger.

“Don’t-” Carmen’s chest shook, a white-knuckled grip on the door.

Your own hand curled around the door’s inner handle, yanking it away from him. “Move,” You hissed, pulling again.

Carmen wasn’t sure why he let it go, why he let you shut it, locking the door in case he tried to open it again. Why he let you pull out of the driveway, why he didn’t stop you, why he didn’t run after you, only taking soft shuffles down the drive like a zombie as you drove away. Standing in the drive, Carmen swallowed down the spit that pooled in his mouth, stomach churning, sure he was going to be sick.

He managed to trudge back to the garage, mind racing and far away, the ringing in his ears dulling but still deafening. It felt like he was in a dream- a nightmare, a hallucinating trance that felt like a sick, sick dream- Carmen was hoping it was. That he’d wake up and find you next to him asleep. That he could hug you, pull you into him, nose buried in your neck, still warm from your slumber.

As the sun began to sink low into the sky, minutes turning into hours that Carmen sat motionless in the garage, staring in a trancelike state, he realized that this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. No this was his reality, a horrific reality that he’d made into his own. Carmen sat, eyes trained on the concrete of the garage, voice racing and blending in his mind- his words, yours, Teddy’s cries, Natalie and Richie’s, flashbacks of his mother screaming fits.

He didn’t move, frozen in chilling, eerie fear. What ifs and terrifying possible scenarios, consequences to his own actions that left him feeling sick, hands trembling. A spiraling of fears that only drug him deeper and deeper with every haunting replay of his outburst. Even the flashing of headlights turning into the driveway, filling the garage with light, didn’t pull him from his trance.

“The fuck is he- Cousin!” Richie roared, laying on the horn. Carmen didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge that he heard it, only stared. Richie frowned, turning the car off, throwing the door open.

“Cousin? Carm? What-What are you doin’? Dinner service started an hour ago. Syd is freakin’ the fuck out.” Richie threw his hands up, walking towards the man who still didn’t move. Richie’s heart skipped, flashbacks of Mikey flooding into his vision, parallels of the two brothers blurring before him.

“Yo, Carm, you-you good?” Richie stepped into the garage, his spine tingling with icy fear. It was quiet, an eerie, unsettling quiet. “Cousin, hey, what-what’s wrong?”

Carmen's chest rose and fell, tighter and tighter. He was suffocating, head spinning and mind racing so fast he felt light headed. He could barely hear Richie’s voice over the noise in his head, Richie’s hand shaking his shoulder finally breaking his trance enough to meet his eyes, rounded in fear filled question.

“Carmen, what’s wrong? Is it- Don’t fuckin’ tell me it’s the baby. What the fuck is goin’ on-”

“-She left.” Carmen’s voice shook, raspy and scared. His tongue still felt too thick, head still spinning. He wasn’t even sure he said it, Richie’s widening eyes the only thing confirming that he had said it.

“What? Who-Who left? Who?” Richie looked around, like the clues might be there, sure that Carmen wasn’t talking about you. No, he wouldn’t- he couldn’t. Not you.

Carmen’s breath hitched, a strangling of a sob caught in his throat, running his hand over his face. Richie didn’t miss the way it trembled, shaking even as it rested over his eyes. Your car was gone, the house too quiet, no baby Teddy crying, nothing but silence was left.

Richie’s heartbeat crawled into a rapid, scared pace. “Why? Wh-Why would she-” Richie looked at Carmen, eyes wide but still, reading his expression. “No. No, Cousin, no. What-What did you do? Carmen,” Richie grabbed both his shoulders, shaking him lightly until he met his gaze. “What did you do?”

Carmen’s face began to crack, behind his eyes, Richie could see flashbacks of something- something he didn’t know what, but whatever it was, it was painful. That was evident by the fear that glossed over Carmen’s eyes, realization and horror. Carmen’s shoulders shook, frame rocking with a sob he tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Deep cries, guttural sobs breaking out of his frame, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, fingers curled and clenched around his greasy curls in agony.

The damning realization flooded over him, that you’d left.

You’d left, you’d taken Teddy, taken Anchovy- you’d left because he’d driven you away. His angry outburst, petulant, mean, hurtful- he’d been so cruel to you. You. His wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, the one person who loved him endlessly without stipulations or boundaries, the one person who truly understood him.

And he’d driven you away.

He wished he could blame his mom, his dad, his family for fucking him up so severely, maybe Mikey, even, for leaving him the shit show that was the restaurant, making his anxieties worse and fuse shorter. But sitting in the empty garage, Richie standing above him in silent shock, his sobs and angry sniffles echoing off the cement floor, Carmen knew he had no one to blame but himself.

He’d fucked up. Really fucked up. Fucked up in a way that made all the other times look obsolete.

Carmen had fucked up, and for once, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t avoid it, ignore it, deflect it like other times. Half hearted apologies and promises of change wouldn’t work, you weren’t here for him to even try to give them to you, and he didn’t know where you went.

Carmen wasn’t sure where you went, how to fix this, why he’d done what he did, and a million other things that raced through his mind. What he did know, sitting in the too quiet garage, chest stuttering with heaving cries, was that he’d do anything.

Anything, to get you back home. To make it right. To fix this and make it up to you.

He wasn’t sure how, but he’d give up everything. Anything. His restaurant, his dreams, his hopes, his life, at this point, to make it up to you.

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ask-zenpool · 2 years ago

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Transitional Kitchen Montreal Kitchen pantry image of a medium-sized transitional u-shaped room with a light wood floor, drop-in sink, shaker cabinets, quartzite countertops, gray and cement tile backsplash, stainless steel appliances, and an island.

#pantry #électroménagers acier inoxydable #tuile metro ciment #portes vitrées #stainless steel appliance #chimney hood #concrete metro tile back splash

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tsundere-sunshine · 2 years ago

Photo

Kitchen Enclosed in Denver

#Mid-sized elegant u-shaped light wood floor enclosed kitchen photo with an undermount sink #granite countertops #stone slab backsplash #stainless steel appliances #raised-panel cabinets #dark wood cabinets #multicolored backsplash and an island granite slab backsplash #granite back splash #black brown granite #pendant lighting island #brown and black granite #brown granite backsplash

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natalievoncatte · 5 months ago

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She had it. She actually had it, in her hands.

Myriad. The ultimate weapon of a dying race, brought to Earth to subjugate its people and rebuild an empire from a shattered world, possibly the key to saving this one. The key Lena needed to unlock Non Nocere and

(take over)

heal the world. End all strife. Eradicate all conflict. No more pain. No more deceit. No more greed, or cruelty, a world without malice, a peace without end.

No more lies.

It was in her hands, such a small petty little thing, barely more than a trinket.

Lena dropped it too sharply on the stainless steel lab table, took three steps, and vomited, the contents of her stomach noisily splashing at her feet. It was the effects of portal travel, she told herself- like jumping from a great height and into cold water at the same time.

(oh god what did I do)

She just needed a few moments to steady herself, collect her bearings, clean up.

(oh god oh god I hurt her what have I done)

Then, she could begin her work immediately. She shrugged out of her coat and found a bottle of vodka, hardly her weapon of choice, and took a pull straight from it to wash the

(pain away)

sour taste of her own puke out of her mouth and dull the sour churning in her stomach, because she couldn’t get the image out of her head, the image of Kara lying broken on the fortress floor with green lines of agony carved in her flawless skin and the most heartbroken look of remorse and fear in her eyes.

(Lena don’t do this)

(please don’t do this I’m SORRY)

Snatching the Myriad core from the lab table, she went to shove it into place. The final work would take only a few hours and then…

Lena stopped. Her hand hovered inches above her work. All she had to do was make the connection, but something was stopping her, as if her own arm revelled against her. She tasted puke and alcohol in her mouth and she was crying, hot tears burning down her cheeks in razor lines.

(Lena please)

No more lies.

It was heavy in her hand, the alien device suspiciously heavy and cool to her touch. Why didn’t she just do it? She was here, key in hand, ready to open the door and she couldn’t do it. Why?

Gritting her teeth, Lena took it in both hands, staring at it.

This was good. This was right. Lena had given Kara everything. Everything! Her friendship, her support, her comfort, her secret council. She killed her own brother for her and what did she get in return? Lies! Deception!

(soft hugs and kind words and powerful arms shielding her from harm and strong hands… holding her)

It had all meant nothing. It was all a lie.

Right?

It was, wasn’t it? It was! It had to be, she needed it to be! If it wasn’t, if she was wrong, then she betrayed and tortured the only person who cared about her for what? For this fucking thing?

Lena held Myriad over her head. She hadn’t even been aware she’d raised it high, ready to smash it to the ground. Bringing it down, she stared at the device and saw a stranger’s face, a distorted visage of a pale, stress-thinned woman with red-rimmed eyes.

Oh God.

The watch! There was still time. It still had the coordinates.

Lena’s hand hovered over the watch. She could push the button and erase the only way she’d ever reach the fortress again, and it would be decided. She’d make it permanent, make it real. She could finalize the destruction of the most important relationship she’d ever had. Deny Kara. Give her up.

(leave her locked in a cage of agony)

Lena pressed the button.

The portal opened behind her with a gust of wind.

She stepped through.

The first thing that hit her was the cold. She didn’t think to put her coat back on.

The second thing was a right hook from Alex Danvers that sent Lena sprawling across the floor and Myriad spinning out of her grip.

“You bitch,” Alex snarled. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. I should have put a bullet in the back of your head the first time you set foot in my town.”

Alex stood over her, boiling with fury.

“I knew it was all a lie. I knew! I know what you did. You and your little lip bites and your flirty looks and your coffee dates. Was breaking my little sister’s heart part of the plan or just a sadistic bonus?”

For once in her life, Lena was truly speechless. She stared up at her attacker, absently touching the trickle of blood from her split lip.

“I didn’t, I wouldn’t,”

“You fucking did,” Alex hissed. “How dare you come back here? Didn’t you steal enough? Was the rest of the armory too much temptation for you?”

“I couldn’t leave her,” Lena choked out.

“Alex,” a harsh voice rasped, “that’s enough.”

Kara was on her feet, clutching her side. The Kryptonite had left her pale and pallid and hunched over a little, her normally bright eyes dull.

Lena pushed herself to her feet, wobbled, and started for Kara.

“Don’t you dare,” Alex stepped between them.

“I said that’s enough,” said Kara, pushing past her.

“I’m sorry,” Lena blurted. “Oh God, I’m sorry, Kara I…”

“Shhh,” Kara whispered. “It’s okay.”

Lena’s hands seemed to move on their own, palms cupping Kara’s cheeks. God, she was cold. She was shivering. Kara was shivering. She leaned into Lena’s grasp, falling against her.

“I’m sorry,” Lena whimpered.

“It’s okay,” Kara said, gathering Lena in her arms.

“The hell it is,” Alex cut in. “Jesus Christ, she robbed the Fortress of Solitude! She hurt you, Kara!”

“I hurt her first.”

“Kara, she’s right.”

Kara shook her head.

“You can’t just forgive her!” Alex almost screamed.

Kara looked at Alex, then at Lena.

“You’re forgetting. I’m Supergirl. I can do anything.”

The tears began to flow and Lena couldn’t stop them. She collapsed into Kara’s arms and sobbed, her body shaking with exertion.

Alex bent down and picked up Myriad.

“Give me that,” said Kara.

Alex looked at her quizzically, and placed the device in Kara’s hand.

She looked at it for a moment, then looked down at Lena.

“Do it,” Lena whispered.

Without the slightest appearance of effort, Kara closed her hand and the device exploded between her fingers, circuits and alien technology clattering to the floor.

“Let’s go home,” said Kara. “I think we need to talk.”

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tsukuhoe · 1 month ago

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13. who's the cute boy with the white sweatshirt

the coffee shop buzzed with its usual morning rush, the scent of espresso mingling in the air. you stepped inside the coffee shop, your sundress swayed lightly with the movement. a soft white rosalia midi sundress dotted with a yellow floral print seemed to carry a piece of summer into the shop. you glanced at your watch— enough time before the table read started.

you walked up to the register, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as you studied the menu.

“good morning!” the barista greeted you. “what can i get for you?”

“hmm,” you murmured, your voice soft but thoughtful. “a vanilla latte with two shots of espresso and a rose cold foam, please.”

“right. your order will be soon! love your dress by the way, has anyone told you that you look a lot like y/n l/n?”

“yes...! i get that a lot! thank you.”

as you waited, your eyes wandered, taking in the shop's interior. your gaze brushed over a familiar-looking raven-haired man with multiple facial piercings and gauges. his hair was tied half up and for a brief moment, your eyes met. you smiled, the kind of small, polite smile you give a stranger, but it felt like a spark anyway.

when your drink was ready, you picked it up, fingers curling delicately around the cup. as you turned toward the door, your shoulder collided with someone. the next thing you knew, your latte was splashed across the floor and the person’s white sweatshirt.

“fuck, i’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, panicking at the mess you made. looking up to see the guy you spilt your latte on. his purple eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, you forgot about the sticky, rapidly cooling liquid soaking into his clothes.

“no, it’s okay,” he said quickly, though the words came out more irritated than he intended. “i wasn’t paying attention.”

“neither was i,” you admitted, setting your cup down on a nearby table. “here, let me help.” you grabbed a stack of napkins from the counter and handed him a few, keeping the rest to blot the floor.

he stood and ran a hand through his messy dark hair as you got on your knees, trying to wipe the hem on his sweatshirt, hoping it wouldn’t stain the white. his face flushing, then turning it away from your downward view. your sundress’s cleavage gave an invasive view from the angle and the position you were in didn’t help his mind to not lead to sexual thoughts.

“i feel terrible. how much was this sweater? i’ll pay for it.” you asked, still focused on the stain.

“you know, normally, people would ask for an autograph instead of offering money.” he chuckled, grabbing your arm and picking you up to look at him.

“huh? i’m sorry, i don’t quite understand...." he smirked. then it clicked. you realized who you were looking at. "wait, are you suguru geto?”

“the one and only,” he nodded with a sweet smile on his face. “and you’re y/n l/n, right? i’ve seen you a few times on the news and radio.”

you eagerly nodded back. this was the suguru geto. the one that played a huge part in the indie music industry. the one that went on an indefinite hiatus five years ago.

“can i buy you another drink?” he asked, snapping you out of your shocked state. you hesitated, glancing at your watch. you were going to be late if you waited any longer. fuck. “i don’t really have time—”

“or,” he interrupted, holding up a hand, “you could take this.” the raven-haired slid a sleek, black stainless steel tumbler across the counter towards you.

you frowned. “what’s this?”

“my coffee. black, no sugar,” he said, a sheepish grin tugging at his pierced lips. “i’m a little obsessed with punctuality, so i always leave early. you, on the other hand, seem like you’re cutting it close.”

you stared at him, a mix of gratitude and disbelief swirling in her chest. “you’re just… giving me your coffee?”

“think of it as an apology.”

you accepted the tumbler reluctantly. “okay, but only if you let me pay you back for that sweater.”

“deal,” he said, slipping a card out of his wallet and scribbling something on the back with a pen from his pocket. “here’s my number. text me when you’ve got time, and we’ll call it even.”

album bonus tracks: — SUGURU !!! — i have this huge hc of suguru having facial piercings n tats — he has an eyebrow piercing, snake bites, labret piercing, industrial, helix (and tits!) pierced! — and tats are placed on his upper left arm to neck <33 (idk if u can tell but i love body decor) — also on the topic of piercings n tats, choso has SO MANY (which we'll talk about some other time) — excited to update more (if u couldn't tell by my little spree lately) ⋮ MASTERLIST ֹ⋮ PREVIOUS ⋮ ֹNEXT ⋮

. ꒷ TAG LIST .ᐟ.ᐟ [CLOSED 50/50] @celloccino @shokosbunny @nymphsdomain @alpha-mommy69 @soulairess @poopooindamouf @reyna-isabellaa @justamina-blog @koreluvsspring @mayhemfellasleep @clamousera @roxy776699 @l-ilysm @ayla-1605 @kaemaybae @starmapz @gigiiiiislife @puppyminnnie @desideityy @yuhig-blog @kaiiibxby @ami20019 @kentochronicles @missthatgirl @lauuriiiz @emi311 @lunavelha @coffeeisbehindyou @freakadelick @theclassbookworm @ladytamayolover @tojirin @fuckisthatahotghost @odxrilove @perqbeth @rxi-n-lyche3 @sugoroo @mentallyunpresent @naviaberries @wil10wthetree @thesharkcollector @harryzcherry @ghost-buddies @tearshedder @mourn1ng-dov3 @hellokittyish @good-mourning0 @shoma-nom @elegancefr @norikuna

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hunnylagoon · 1 year ago

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hey! I want to request a fluffy one shot about ellie being a parent with the reader. The rest is in your hands, write what comes to ur mind!

Small Hands

Summary: People say that the magic disappears when you have children, that never applied to you and Ellie, you are just as hopelessly in love as the day you were married. You celebrate Christmas with your friends and family despite a few bumps in the road.

A/N: I usually don’t fuck with kids but this concept actually seemed really cute to me. This chapter is a bit shorter, sorry if it’s rushed, I wrote this while studying for my exams. Thank you for requesting! If anyone else has requests, feel free to leave them and I will get around to them! There is the smallest teensiest weensiest smidgen of a angst in the middle but it comes from a third party. Warning for mentions of postpartum depression

The air was infused with the spicy aroma of gingerbread and the warm glow of twinkling lights as a group of friends gathered for their annual Christmas party. The cozy living room, adorned with tinsel and stockings, echoed with laughter and the jingling of bells. The adults, each holding a mug of steaming cocoa (with a splash of Bailey's), exchanged stories of the year gone by while the children, eyes wide with wonder, eagerly awaited the arrival of Santa Claus.

The living room sparkled with the joy of reunion, as friends who had become family over the years shared in the holiday spirit. You being the hostess of the party, had a flair for festive decorations, you had turned your home into a winter wonderland, complete with a towering Christmas tree and a crackling fireplace. "Levi, get away from there!" Your eyes went wide and you slammed your mug onto the coffee table before you ran to retrieve your son who was wearing an elf onesie and had been attempting to pull out bottles from the wine rack. Your friends and family laughed at the scene "Geez," You grabbed him from beneath his arms and scooped him up, quickly bringing him close to your chest. He had just turned four and was rapidly getting too big for you to carry him. You put him on the ground and ushered him toward the game room telling him to go play with his sister while all of the children were playing some kind of board game or watching the Polar Express. "Where is your mother?" You mutter under your breath, gaze suddenly focusing on the sink full of dishes, you sigh and walk towards them, figuring it easier to get them done now as opposed to when the part has ended and you're too exhausted to do so.

In the tranquil kitchen, the rhythmic cadence of water splashing and the clink of porcelain against stainless steel create a melodic backdrop as you diligently tend to the post-dinner ritual of washing dishes, humming along to the song 'Last Christmas' which you could hear ever so faintly rise above the busy chatter of the living room. your hands, adorned with soap bubbles, move with a graceful choreography, navigating each plate, glass, and utensil with practiced efficiency. The moonlight streaming through the window illuminates the dance of water droplets, casting a prism of reflections on the gleaming surfaces. The scent of citrus-scented dish soap permeates the air, as you, lost in thought, scrub away at remnants of roast chicken and mashed potatoes.

"There's my girl," You feel a pair of arms snake around your waist, you didn't need to turn around to tell who it was; it had of course been your wife, you looked down at where her hands rested on your midriff, her silver wedding ring glistened beneath the warm overhead lighting in the kitchen.

"Are you aware your son is trying to get into the wine rack again?" You turn around to face her, her hands changed from their spot on your waist to the edge of the kitchen sink, leaving you stuck between her and the counter, faces inches apart.

"What can I say? He's got drinking problems," She teased, gaze flickering to your lips for a minute.

"That's all you," You said, your faces were so close that you could've sworn that you could count every single freckle on her face. Without warning, Ellie puts her hands back onto your waist to pull you close, she plants little kisses on your neck, earning a giggle from you "Really?" You laugh "Is me washing dishes really that attractive?"

"Oh, absolutely," She thought you were so incredibly stunning, even in something as simple as a red cable-knit sweater with faded mom jeans and hair tied up sloppy in a claw clip. You had only bought the claw clip in the first place because your daughter told you they were trendy.

"Okay, seriously, there are kids here," You laugh, gently pushing Ellie away from you "We can save that for later."

"You just look so beautiful," Ellie wears a goofy smile on her face.

"In mom jeans?"

She shrugs "As beautiful as the day I met you, if not more."

You can't help the huge smile that consumes your face. You and Ellie had met in college, she was a bartender and you went to her bar every single Friday just to see her, all of your friends sat in a booth but you would always push for them to sit at the bar when they refused, you sat alone just to talk to the pretty girl behind the bar. "Do you remember how we were spending Christmas in College?"

"One bottle of peppermint schnapps and a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels."

"You're forgetting a game of strip poker," You add.

"That's probably because I was hammered off my ass," She says bluntly and it makes you laugh. Back in college, the pair of you made plans to fly home to see your families but a snowstorm had other plans, with arrangements cancelled you went back to each other, cozying up on Ellie's beat-up couch and dumping schnapps into eggnog, god it tasted awful but the sound of Ellie laughing, her cheeks and nose pink from cold air almost made it taste better.

"You know..." You say, drawing Ellie's attention "I think it might be time to start the gingerbread house contest."

Ellie is way ahead of you, she leaves the kitchen and enters the game room, you can tell the exact moment she announced it by the kid's reactions all you heard was cheering before a dozen kids stormed out of the game room and gathered around the dining table where you had meticulously placed a gingerbread house decorating kit at each chair as well as little bowls full of several colours of frosting and miscellaneous candies lined down the center.

Parents sat next to their children or stood behind them, either rooting for them or guiding their small hands along the gingerbread, aiding the decorating process. Ellie sat between both of your children "Levi, you can eat it after you build it," She chuckled, gingerly moving the plastic butter knife of icing to the edge of a wall for the gingerbread house, "See? You put icing along the edges and then you stick it together and then when it dries, you have a house!" She explained in simple terms to your youngest, turning her head to look at your daughter who was too busy conversing with her friend to decorate "You should be listening to this too, Kenna, useful tips," She teased. Kenna rolled her eyes, she was ten years old and at that stage where she was starting to get embarrassed by her parents. Ellie laughed at your daughter's reaction, locking eyes with you from your spot by the doorway where the two of you share a look of understanding.

"Uh oh, looks like Papa's intervening," Dina said, she stood next to Jesse, cradling her baby, JJ, in her arms, watching the scene unfold.

"Alright, kiddo, here's what we're gonna do." Joel shooed Kenna's friend away, replacing her. Under hushed whispers he explained a plan to Kenna, the two were discussing a layout to win the gingerbread contest.

"Oh, it's getting heated now," Ellie said, now moving her focus onto Levi's sloppy gingerbread house.

Everyone was in the festive dining room, laughing and talking, truly in the Christmas spirit, all except for one; you heard what sounded like faint sobs coming from the kitchen. With furrowed eyebrows, you followed the sound and found none other than your friend, Catherine crying into her hands.

"What happened?" You break the silence, catching her attention.

Catherine begins to wipe away tears, shaking her head "It's nothing, it's so stupid-

"Well, it's not nothing if you're crying." You cross your arms. Catherine can't seem to get the words out, she just shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut in her best attempt to push back tears, her blue eyes red and puffy "Whatever it is, I'm not going to judge you."

"It's just-" She takes a deep, shaky breath" Sometimes I wish I wasn't a mom, I just wish I could pack up my bags and leave in the middle of the night and never come back." Catherine was an English teacher at a middle school, you had met her not long after you met Ellie. She was also a new mother, she had only had her baby girl, Clementine for six months; you saw how tired she was, she always for dark bags under her eyes, she used to intricately braid her dirty blond hair every day but now she only had the energy in her to tie it up into a loose bun. "I'm sorry," She laughed "I don't know why I'm crying."

"Because it hurts." You answer, eyebrows furrowing with concern.

Your daughter ran into the kitchen with a huge smile on her little face "Mom, you need to see my house, Papa Joel is helping me and it looks really cool so far-" Her smile faded in the slightest when she saw you with Catherine, "Is Cathy okay?"

"She's fine, sweetheart," You kneel to eye level with Kenna "Her tummy just hurts from too much hot chocolate so I'm gonna take care of her for a bit." You brush one of Kenna's lose hair behind her ear and plant a kiss onto her freckled forehead "Just go back to making your house, I'm sure it looks awesome, I promise I'll come see it when it's done but I think your auntie Sarah would love to see it." Kenna nods casting one last look at Catherine who turned around to hide her tear-stained face from your daughter and hurried out of the kitchen. "Cath, let's talk outside." You move towards the sliding door on the other side of the kitchen, you hold it open for Catherine who follows you outside, immediately hugging herself in an attempt to fight off the cold. "So, where is this coming from?"

Catherine looks around the snow-covered yard, she sees the snowman that your children made with Ellie the day before and it only adds to the unbearable weight on her shoulders "I'm not good at this, I'm a bad mom-

"No, you're not-

She lets out another sob "Like just now, you are so patient with Kenna and Levi, you and Ellie have this incredible house and an amazing family, you guys never fight and I just feel like I'm falling behind."

"You're crazy if you think Ellie and I don't fight, we argue all the time about the stupidest things, like earlier we fought about who would pop that champagne cork. We fight, but that doesn't mean that we don't love each other, I'm sure you feel the same way about Emmet."

"I love Emmet," She says "I really do and I love Clementine so so much I just wish I had a minute to breathe." Catherine can hardly look you in the eyes "I work with kids all day and take care of them and then I get home and it's just more of the same but there's cooking and cleaning and it's endless."

The silence stretches between you two. Catherine's face is scrunched up, her pale turning red from the cold. With each unsteady breath, she heaves, a cloud of carbon dioxide emerges. The sleet covering every inch of ground acts as soundproofing over the neighbourhood, the only thing you can hear are birds flapping their wings and Catherine's heavy cries.

"Do you remember when I wanted to be a writer?" She asks "When I used to have dreams, I would hole myself up in that one corner booth of that coffee shop every Sunday and I would write for hours on end."

"And every time someone mentioned a book or movie that they like, you would ask what they liked about it so you could use bits of it in your writing." You say, your lips stretching into a thin melancholic smile at the memory.

"Well, it's all gone out the window." She was shaking by that point, not from the frigid air or her now wet socks but from misery "Two years ago I was hosting wine-tasting parties and Emmet was taking me out to these beautiful high-end restaurants. I could fit into sleek back dresses and wear high heels for hours without getting blisters, now all I eat is Kraft dinner and takeout. Every nice blouse I own has gotten baby vomit on it."

The way Catherine is speaking, she sounds bitter with despair hanging in her tone. You at a loss for words, postpartum depression was common but you hadn't realized just how much Catherine was suffering. She had spent six months feeling this way with no one to talk to. When you first adopted Kenna you were terrified, you thought that you wouldn't have a mother's instinct and that you were going to screw her up in some way or that she would resent you because you aren't her biological mother.

"I haven't got a full night of sleep in six months, all I hear is that fucking screeching cry. That's all she does is scream, she screams when she's happy, when she's sad, when she's upset and angry, it's all I hear and I'm so fucking sick of it." She buried her face into her hands "Emmet just loves her so much, he does everything with her without complaint and I can't help but hold the slightest bit of resent for her, I probably sound evil right now."

"You don't," You pulled Catherine in for a hug. Embracing her and all of her sadness, if it belonged to her then it belonged to you as well. "I'll tell you this right now, it's going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better." Her head was tucked into the crook of your neck.

"That isn't helping-

You pushed her away, holding onto her shoulders, forcing her to face you. "Remember when you adopted that dog?"

"Toothless," She smiled at the thought of her old Labrador.

"He was a puppy when you adopted him, he had way too much energy, barked at every sound, and pissed and shat on the floor of your apartment a lot," You say, face dead serious despite the subject matter "That night before exams when you were exhausted and all you wanted was to sleep, you tucked yourself into bed and Toothless was right beside you and then he pissed all over your white duvet. You called me and you just cried and cried because you were so stressed and that was the tipping point. How about that time he dragged your period-stained underwear out of your laundry basket when you had a date over-

"Okay, I get it," Catherine laughed.

"My point is, when that puppy stage passed, you were in love with that dog, you blew off plans just to take him on walks downtown. If you had a bad day, you would curl up on the couch with him. Not that I'm comparing your child to a dog but when this postpartum leaves, that child is going to be the light of your life. Fridays at the bar won't sound appealing when you can make popcorn and watch Disney with your daughter, nothing else is going to matter as much as that girl. When Clementine gets older you'll find that every eye-roll means you're doing something right."

"Is that true?" She asks "About the eyerolls?"

"No," You laugh "It's just something I say to make Ellie feel better."

Catherine chuckles, wiping away what remains of her tears. "Thank you."

"I know it feels like it's the end of the road but it's not. It gets easier every single day but that's the hard part, you need to get up and face it every single day." Your words calm Catherine down. Her tears dissipate and with a deep breath she is no longer shaking "We should go back inside now, I wanna see who won the gingerbread building contest." You sling an arm around her and guide her back inside through the sliding door.

"But my socks are wet." She says, hesitant to step back inside.

"I'm sorry for making you stand in the snow but that conversation needed to happen," You urge her inside anyway, not caring if your freshly cleaned kitchen floors get wet "I'll lend you a pair of slippers."

You and Catherine return to the dining room where the contest is just wrapping up, both in fuzzy slippers; the pair Catherine wore had little black spotted cows on them while yours were teal and made to look like Perry the Platypus, a gift you received from Ellie out of the blue because she thought they were hilarious and wanted both of you to have a matching pair. "Just in time," Dina says, she's wearing a white turtle neck and blue skinny jeans, leaning against the wall, watching her husband with a smile "They're about to announce the winner."

Ellie is speaking in a hushed voice with Jesse who is holding JJ in one arm, she's acting as serious as ever and even pretending to ask JJ for his opinion, the baby just babbles in return "Interesting, thank you, JJ," She says. Ellie turns to the crowd, everyone goes silent waiting for her words "The consensus is... You are all winners!"

Many of the older kids groaned in annoyance, all of the adults knew this was coming that didn't stop Tommy from saying that it was outrageous.

As the night unfolded, the kids, bundled up in cozy sweaters, gathered around a table filled with art supplies to craft their ornaments. Laughter filled the room as little hands carefully adorned paper snowflakes and painted wooden stars. The parents, caught in the infectious energy of the children, joined in the crafting, reminiscing about their childhood holiday traditions.

With bellies full and hearts warmer than ever, the group of friends settled into a circle around the fireplace. The children, tucked in cozy blankets, many of the kids fell asleep in the game room while 'Home Alone' played on the TV.

As the night drew to a close, the guests exchanged hugs and well wishes. The flickering lights of the Christmas tree cast a soft glow on the scene as the friends, with their children in tow, bid farewell, knowing that the memories forged on this magical night would linger in their hearts long after the last snowflake had fallen. Parent hauled their sleeping children away into their cars, putting a close on the night.

Ellie took Kenna, hand in hand, to the bathroom, making sure that she thoroughly brushed her teeth. She tucked her daughter in, giving her a kiss on the forehead. Kenna tried to argue that she wasn't tired but the second her head hit the pillow her eyes shuttered closed and any chatter she had in her was replaced by soft breaths emerging from the sleeping girl.

You had taken Levi straight to bed, he was already passed out when you found him curled in a ball on a blanket in the game room. He gently put him down on his bed and pulled a Spider-Man blanket over the top of him to keep his little body warm. You made sure that his night light was plugged in before stepping away and closing the door, but not all the way, you left it open a crack, just the way he liked it.

And so, the echoes of laughter, the warmth of shared moments, and the spirit of togetherness lingered in the air, a reminder that the company of cherished friends and family had just left, leaving you and your little family to sit in the static quiet of the fireplace crackling.

The air is still tinged with the scent of cinnamon and pine, and a soft glow emanates from the myriad of twinkling lights that adorn every corner. The Christmas tree, a majestic centrepiece, stands tall and proud, its branches adorned with an array of ornaments that glisten in hues of red, gold, and silver. A cozy fireplace crackles merrily, casting a warm embrace upon the room. Festive stockings, embroidered with care, hang in anticipation of surprises. Plush blankets drape over sofas, inviting you to sink into their warmth. Every surface seems to gleam with the holiday spirit, from the gleaming silverware on the dining table to the festive wreaths that adorn doorways. The ambiance is a symphony of holiday joy, where every decoration tells a story of cherished traditions and the magic of Christmas despite the displaced blankets and dishes, as well as random craft supplies that were somehow everywhere.

"We should probably clean this up before bed," You say, bending down to grab a throw blanket off the floor.

Ellie grabs your wrist to stop you "That's what tomorrow is for," You turn to face her "Right now I just want to be with my wife."

You grin "I don't think I'll ever get sick of you saying that."

"I don't think I'll ever get sick of saying it."

You kiss Ellie, she has one hand pulling you in from the small of your back. "I think I have a crush on you." You giggle.

"A crush on your wife?" Ellie raises an eyebrow "Who could imagine that."

"No I mean, I obviously love you but there's a difference between being in love and having a crush, we've been married for fourteen years and I still get excited when you call me pretty. I can't help but stare at you in a room full of people and when you look back I get butterflies because I just can't help but be thankful that I got lucky enough to have you." Your lips curve up into a smile "I don't think that was corny enough," You say sarcastically.

Ellie kisses you again, it is simple and sweet, like the taste of sugar resting on the tip of your tongue "I guess I have a crush on you too," She looked so pretty in her jeans and red flannel, sporting the haircut you gave her with pride; whenever someone mentioned her haircut she would get all giddy and say 'My wife did it!'. An idea snaps into your mind, and you swiftly break away from Ellie and kick off your Perry the Platypus slippers, jetting to the kitchen to the sliding door and running outside. Ellie calls after you, with no response, she follows your trail of teal slippers. She pokes her head outside "Honey?" She calls into the night, and instead of your voice answering her she is decked in the face by a snowball. "Ow!"

With rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes, your breath forming clouds in the cold, launched the first snowball, its trajectory guided by both precision and mischief. Ellie, undeterred, retaliated with a well-aimed throw which truthfully fucking hurt when it crashed into you as she used to play softball and didn't know how to gently throw anything. The world around you transformed into a playground, each snowball being thrown with more power.

As the not-so-friendly competition unfolded, your movements became a dance—a graceful ballet of dodges and throws. The landscape bore witness to their camaraderie, marked by the hushed giggles (trying your best to stay quiet enough that you didn't wake the kids) and the occasional shrieks of delight. Frost-kissed eyelashes framed your beaming faces, capturing the essence of a moment suspended in the magic of winter.

The cold air filled with the warmth of your connection. You both paused, momentarily breathless, her laughter echoing in the serene stillness of the snow-covered landscape. Amidst the snow-laden trees and glistening ground, you and Ellie shared a quiet gaze—a fleeting, unspoken acknowledgment of the bond that stayed unbroken with each tossed snowball.

Your cheeks flushed with both the chill of the air and the thrill of the game, finally forfeited, coming out from your shielding spot behind the shed, you laughed as you approached Ellie, moving your delicate hands to shake snow out of her hair. The memory of the evening lingered, a cherished chapter in the story of your enduring love.

#ellie williams #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #the last of us #the last of us ellie #tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #Ellie is down bad #christmas #you have kids with Ellie #Ellie Williams X reader fluff

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