#sydney tower eye

[travelella]

Sydney Tower Eye, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia

Andy Wang

[callmeabeverhausen]

the "sydney tower eye"....between my ears....

and by the way 309 meters high

[goldfades]

SCREAM QUEENS──NICHOLAS CHAVEZ

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─ summary | after filming Scream with cooper and nicholas, you and nicholas develop a slow-burn romance filled with subtle tension.

─ pairing | nicholas chavez x fem!actress!reader, platonic!cooper koch x fem!actress!reader

─ warnings | sooo sweet and soft!! literally nothing except fluff and a few kisses at the end.

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

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The red carpet glistens under the flashing lights of countless cameras, and the hum of excited voices fills the air like an electric current. The Scream premiere is your first big debut in a film of this scale, and it feels like you're stepping into another world. Your breath catches slightly as you look up at the towering poster of your character, Sydney, splashed across the theater behind you. It’s surreal.

You smooth your dress—a deep, rich burgundy that makes you feel powerful, but in a quiet way, like you're not here to scream but to be heard when it matters. A few feet away, Nicholas stands in his sleek suit, posture rigid yet calm, looking every bit like he belongs. Stoic, as always. But there’s something in the way his eyes shift toward you when he thinks no one’s watching—a softness, a quiet admiration hidden behind his mask of indifference.

Next to him, Cooper is an absolute ball of energy, talking animatedly with an interviewer, his hands gesturing wildly as he laughs, completely unrecognizable from the unnerving, cold-blooded Stu he portrayed in the movie. His warmth is contagious, and you can’t help but smile, even though you’re more used to blending into the background at events like these. Still, this is your night too.

The interviewer finally reaches you, and your stomach flutters—not from nerves, but from the anticipation of sharing this moment. "How does it feel to be a part of such an iconic horror franchise?" they ask, their microphone hovering in front of you.

You glance at Nicholas briefly, his lips curling into the tiniest of smiles as if he’s silently encouraging you to take the lead. The smallest gesture, but you catch it. You always do. You gather your thoughts, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before leaning in.

"It’s… unreal," you start softly, your voice measured. "Scream changed the game, and being a part of that—it's hard to describe. It’s like stepping into a legacy, but also bringing something new."

You pause for a second, letting the weight of your words settle, and then continue. “It’s not just about stepping into Sydney’s shoes—it’s about understanding her fear, her resilience. Horror is… more than just jumpscares. It’s psychological, it’s emotional. It’s about survival, and I think that’s what makes Scream different.”

As you speak, you feel the lights and the noise around you blur into the background. Your focus is on the moment, on articulating what’s been buzzing in your mind ever since you landed the role. Sydney was never just a scream queen—she was a fighter, an anchor in the madness, and playing her was like learning how to channel that same strength in yourself.

The interviewer nods, visibly impressed, and moves on to Nicholas. You shift slightly, glancing at him as he takes a steady breath. His expression is the perfect picture of composure, but you can tell from the slight twitch of his fingers that he’s thoughtful about what to say.

“Well, Billy’s not exactly the hero,” Nicholas begins, a small chuckle escaping his lips, eyes narrowing with that subtle sharpness that made him perfect for the role. “But I think what’s interesting about him—and about the film as a whole—is the way it plays with the audience’s expectations. Horror has always been about tension, about twisting what you think you know. Scream does that, but on a deeper level. Billy’s... manipulative, sure, but there’s a layer of humanity there, buried under all that chaos. And that’s what makes him so terrifying. You don’t just hate him—you understand him.”

He doesn’t say much, but his words settle like a weight in the air, his voice low and reflective. You’ve always admired that about him, the way he can strip away all the noise and say something that matters, something you’ll still be thinking about long after the conversation ends.

And then, of course, there’s Cooper.

The moment Nicholas finishes, Cooper bounds into the spotlight, his energy bright and overwhelming, making everyone laugh before he’s even answered the question. “Oh man, playing Stu was wild,” he says, shaking his head with a grin that’s far too friendly for someone who spent the entire movie butchering people. “I had to turn off my brain to even think like him. I’m pretty much the opposite in real life, so going to that dark place took some effort.”

He laughs again, carefree, but you’ve seen it—the way he can flip a switch when the cameras roll. One moment, he’s this ball of sunshine, cracking jokes and keeping the mood light, and the next, his eyes go cold, his smile sinister. It’s what made his portrayal of Stu so chilling, so disturbingly real.

“But honestly, I think the best part was working with these two,” Cooper continues, throwing an arm around both you and Nicholas in one smooth motion. “We were like family on set. Every scene, every rehearsal, we got closer. There’s this... chemistry we developed that I think really translates on screen.”

You feel a flush of warmth at his words. Cooper’s enthusiasm has always been infectious, and you can’t help but nod in agreement, even if you’re not as loud about it as he is. The connection between the three of you—Nicholas, Cooper, and you—had been undeniable, a sort of unspoken understanding that had only grown stronger as filming went on.

The interviewer seizes on that. “It sounds like you all bonded a lot on set. Can you talk more about your dynamic? What was it like working together?”

You’re about to respond, but Cooper jumps in first, unable to help himself. “Oh, totally! It was a blast. I mean, there were some intense scenes, obviously—especially for Nick and her,” he says, nodding at you. “But between takes? We’d be laughing, hanging out, keeping it light. It’s the only way to survive a horror film without going crazy yourself, right?”

Nicholas smirks, leaning into the moment with his usual understated charm. “Yeah, Cooper’s energy definitely kept things interesting.” There’s that subtle warmth again in his tone, a softness in the way he talks about you both. “I think we balanced each other out in a lot of ways. You”—he nods toward you again—"you brought this quiet focus, and I think it rubbed off on me. It’s easy to get lost in a role like Billy, but watching you... I learned how to ground myself.”

The compliment, though wrapped in his usual casual delivery, sends a faint flush up your neck. Nicholas had never been one for big declarations, but when he did speak, it was always with meaning, as if he had chosen each word carefully, deliberately.

You find your voice again, wanting to contribute before the moment passes. “I think we each brought something different to the table,” you add softly, your gaze flicking between them. “Cooper has this incredible energy that keeps everything light, but he can flip a switch when it’s time to get serious. And Nicholas...” You pause, considering. “He’s... steady. There’s this calmness about him that keeps you anchored, even when the scenes get intense. It’s hard to explain, but it made working with him feel... safe.”

Your words hang in the air for a moment, and there’s a flicker of something in Nicholas’s eyes—a glimmer of appreciation, though it’s fleeting, quickly hidden behind his usual cool demeanor. But you catch it. You always do.

The interviewer, sensing the dynamic between the three of you, smiles warmly. “It sounds like you all formed a pretty tight-knit group. That’s rare in an industry like this.”

Cooper nods enthusiastically. “Oh, for sure. We’re stuck with each other now,” he jokes, but the sincerity behind his words is unmistakable. “I mean, how could we not? We’ve been through the trenches together.”

You smile, unable to suppress the warmth that floods through you. He’s right. Despite the long nights, the emotionally draining scenes, and the weight of stepping into such iconic roles, the bond you’ve formed with these two has been something special—something real.

As the interview wraps up, you take a step back, letting Cooper and Nicholas finish with their final thoughts. The night isn’t over yet—the premiere still looms ahead, and there are more cameras, more questions waiting. But for a moment, in the midst of the chaos, you feel a deep sense of gratitude. For the film, for this experience, but mostly for them.

For the way Nicholas’s steady presence has become a quiet comfort, his admiration for you evident in the smallest of gestures. For the way Cooper’s energy has pulled you out of your shell, making you laugh, making the hard days bearable.

And as you glance at them both, standing under the glow of the premiere lights, you can’t help but feel like something has shifted. Something subtle, yet undeniable.

───

“—that is not what happened, and you know it.” Cooper sighed dramatically as he glanced your direction, a mock upset settled on his face as you bite your lip, stifling a laugh. Nicholas watches the two of you, amusement clear in his expression.

You settle into the couch as you shrug, letting a small laugh escape your lips. "Okay, fine," you say, holding up your hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Maybe I don't remember it exactly the way you do, but come on, Cooper, you were the one who started it."

Cooper gasps, clutching his chest dramatically like he’s been mortally wounded. "I started it? Oh no, no. Let’s be real here. You and Nicholas were the ones conspiring against me from day one!"

Nicholas raises an eyebrow, a quiet smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Conspiring? That’s a bit dramatic, Coop.”

The host of the podcast, a friendly guy with a genuine smile, watches all of this unfold with a look of amusement, clearly enjoying the easy chemistry between the three of you. “So wait, wait. What exactly did happen on set? I need to know who’s telling the truth here.”

You lean back into the couch, crossing your arms playfully as you glance between Cooper and Nicholas. "Oh, this is good," you say, your eyes lighting up with the memory. "You tell him, Nick. I think you’ve got the best perspective here."

Nicholas, always the picture of calm, shakes his head slightly, clearly entertained by the chaos unfolding between you and Cooper. "Alright," he says, his voice steady but with a hint of amusement. "Here’s the real story. Cooper, as usual, was trying to lighten the mood between takes. It was one of those intense scenes—you know, where Billy and Stu are supposed to be... doing their thing."

Cooper jumps in, unable to help himself. "You mean brutally stabbing people?"

Nicholas just gives him a look, unfazed. “Yes. That. Anyway, Cooper decided to improvise a little—”

“A little?” you interject with a laugh. “He completely threw the script out the window!”

Cooper grins, not remotely ashamed. "Hey, I was trying to make everyone laugh! It was a tense day, okay? I thought Billy needed to lighten up. Maybe do a TikTok dance between stabs. You know, just to mix things up."

Nicholas rolls his eyes good-naturedly, the smallest chuckle escaping him. “Needless to say, it didn’t go over well with the director.”

“Or anyone else on set,” you add, giggling at the memory of Cooper’s ridiculous, over-the-top dance moves while still in full Stu costume.

Cooper holds his hands up defensively. “Alright, fine. It was a bold choice. But you two were laughing! Don’t try to deny it. I saw you both.”

Nicholas’s expression softens, and he nods. “I’ll give you that. You definitely broke the tension.”

The host laughs, clearly enjoying the banter. “It sounds like you guys had a lot of fun on set, despite the heavy material. How do you balance that, being in such a dark, intense movie but still having this kind of dynamic off-screen?”

You exchange a look with Nicholas and Cooper, your smile softening a bit as you think back on the experience. "I think it’s because we had to," you say thoughtfully. “When you’re dealing with a film like Scream—where you’re surrounded by horror and violence every day—it’s easy to let that weight stick with you. So we found ways to break it up, to remind ourselves that we’re just playing characters, that we don’t have to carry that darkness with us.”

Cooper nods along, his usual high energy subdued for a moment as he listens to you speak. “Yeah, exactly. And it helps when you’re working with people you trust, you know? Like, we got along so well from the beginning, so it made everything easier. Even on the tough days, I knew I could look at you guys and just... snap out of it.”

Nicholas glances at you, his expression a little more serious now. “There’s a lot of trust involved, especially with a film like this. You have to trust that the people around you are going to be there, not just as actors, but as friends. And we built that over time.”

You smile at him, grateful for the sincerity in his words. He may be quiet, but when he speaks, it always feels intentional, like there’s weight behind everything he says. And in moments like this, you’re reminded of just how much you appreciate that about him.

The host shifts in his seat, leaning forward. “That’s great to hear. It really shows on screen—the chemistry, the dynamic between you three. So, what’s next? I mean, after Scream, where do you go from here?”

Cooper jumps in again, back to his usual lively self. “Well, I think we should all do a rom-com next, right? Something light, something fluffy. Get away from all the blood and guts.”

You laugh, the idea of the three of you in a rom-com so absurd it’s actually kind of appealing. “Oh yeah, I can totally see Nicholas as the romantic lead.”

Nicholas raises an eyebrow, looking completely unfazed by the suggestion. “I don’t know about that. I think I’ll stick to horror.”

“Stoic, mysterious guy,” Cooper teases, leaning forward dramatically, pretending to narrate. “He’s hiding a dark secret, but deep down, he’s just a big softie.”

You and the host burst out laughing, and even Nicholas can’t help but crack a smile. “Alright, alright,” he concedes. “Maybe one rom-com.”

The host grins, looking between the three of you. “I would definitely pay to see that.”

The interview wraps up soon after, the room filled with easy laughter and lingering energy as you stand from the couch. You, Nicholas, and Cooper thank the host, chatting amongst yourselves as the podcast crew wraps up.

As you head toward the door, Cooper slings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. "Next time, we do the rom-com," he says with a wink. “We can be the love interests and... Nick can just be there. I’ll start writing the script tonight.”

Nicholas falls into step beside you, his hands in his pockets, watching the two of you with that familiar glint of amusement in his eyes. “I’ll leave that to you, Cooper.”

You smile, shaking your head. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

After the interview wraps up and the bright lights of the studio fade behind you, the three of you pile into Cooper’s car. He’s talking a mile a minute, still buzzing from the podcast, hands waving animatedly as he drives.

“Man, that was fun. Did you hear how the host lost it when we started talking about the rom-com? I think we should seriously pitch that,” he jokes, throwing you a wink in the rearview mirror.

You laugh, leaning against the window in the back seat, the city passing by in a blur of neon and headlights. “You’re never going to let this rom-com thing go, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Cooper replies, grinning. “We’d crush it. But first…” He slows the car as you approach Nicholas’s place. “How about we just hang out for a bit? Relax, watch a movie or something.”

You glance at Nicholas, who’s sitting quietly in the passenger seat, his eyes focused on the road ahead. He nods slightly, a small smile playing at his lips. “Yeah, that sounds good. It’s been a long day.”

Cooper pulls up to the curb, parking in front of Nick’s apartment. “Alright, I’ll grab the snacks, you two go ahead. I’ll catch up in a sec.”

You and Nicholas exchange a look as you step out of the car, the cool evening air brushing against your skin. There’s a comfortable silence between you as you walk up to his place, the quiet hum of the city surrounding you.

Inside, the atmosphere feels different—quieter, more intimate than the usual chaos of set or interviews. Nicholas’s apartment is minimalistic but warm, with soft lighting and a collection of books and records scattered about, telling more about his quiet, thoughtful nature than he’d ever openly admit.

You slip off your shoes at the door, glancing around as Nicholas sets down his keys and heads to the kitchen. “Want something to drink?” he asks, his voice casual but soft, like it always is when it’s just the two of you.

“Water’s fine,” you reply, following him to the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he pours a glass. There's something unspoken hanging between you, an undercurrent of energy that’s been building for a while now—something neither of you has acknowledged out loud, but it lingers, making your every interaction feel just a little more charged than it used to be.

Nicholas hands you the glass, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest moment. You feel the jolt of electricity, the way your skin warms under his touch, and you quickly look away, pretending not to notice the way your heart beats a little faster.

He leans against the counter beside you, his shoulder just inches from yours, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. “Today was fun,” he says quietly, his voice low in the soft glow of the kitchen.

“Yeah,” you agree, looking up at him, your gaze catching his for a second too long. “It was. It always is when we’re all together.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just holds your gaze with those steady eyes of his, and you can feel the tension growing, thickening the air between you. It’s not uncomfortable—it’s the kind of tension that makes your skin buzz, that fills the quiet with unspoken words, words you’ve both been too careful to say.

The front door swings open, breaking the moment as Cooper strolls in with a bag of snacks. “I’m back! Got the goods!” he calls, completely unaware of the quiet, charged moment he’s just interrupted.

You and Nicholas both turn away, the spell broken, but that energy doesn’t dissipate. It lingers, hanging in the air as Cooper throws himself onto the couch, oblivious as ever. “Alright, what are we watching?” he asks, rummaging through the bag. “Something funny, I hope. Or... maybe Scream?” He shoots you both a mischievous grin.

Nicholas chuckles softly and shakes his head. “I think we’ve had enough Scream for one day.”

“Agreed,” you say, settling onto the couch next to Cooper, grateful for the distraction but still hyper-aware of Nicholas as he joins you, sitting a little closer than usual on your other side.

You all end up picking a lighthearted comedy, something easy to watch without much thought, but your mind isn’t fully on the movie. The whole time, you can feel Nicholas beside you, his presence magnetic, pulling at you without even trying. Every now and then, your knee brushes his, and even the smallest touch sends a ripple of awareness through you, as if your body is attuned to his in a way you can’t quite explain.

Cooper, true to form, falls asleep halfway through the movie, his head dropping back against the cushions as soft snores escape him. You and Nicholas exchange a glance, both trying to stifle a laugh.

“I don’t know how he does it,” Nicholas murmurs, his voice low in the darkened room. “He was the one who wanted to hang out, and he’s the first one out.”

You smile, your heart skipping a beat at how close his voice sounds, the intimacy of the moment amplified by the quiet. “He always does this.”

Nicholas leans back, his arm stretching casually along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against your shoulder. The touch is light, barely there, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. You feel the tension building again, heavier this time, as if the universe is pushing the two of you closer, daring you to acknowledge what’s been simmering between you for months.

You steal a glance at him out of the corner of your eye, and he’s already looking at you, his expression softer, more open than usual. There’s something in his gaze, something unguarded, like he’s letting you see just how much he cares. The realization makes your breath catch.

“Hey,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper now. “You okay?”

You nod, but your heart is racing, and you’re not sure if it’s the quiet or the closeness, or the fact that, for once, it feels like the unspoken tension between you might finally break.

“I’m good,” you say softly, your voice catching a little, and you feel his eyes on you, searching.

For a moment, the world outside the apartment doesn’t exist. There’s just you and Nicholas, the space between you shrinking with every second, and it feels like you’re both standing at the edge of something, something that could change everything.

Nicholas doesn’t break eye contact, and neither do you. The air in the room feels thick, almost electric, as if the space between you is charged with something both of you have been too careful to admit. His arm rests casually on the back of the couch, but his fingers twitch slightly, brushing the barest edge of your shoulder. The touch is subtle, but it’s enough to send a ripple through you—a pulse of heat that spreads from where his skin meets yours.

You swallow, trying to keep your breathing steady, but you can’t ignore the way your heart races, thudding in your chest like it’s trying to communicate something your mind hasn’t fully processed yet.

Neither of you says a word, and yet, everything is being said in the silence between you. There’s a pull, an invisible string tugging you closer, and for the first time, it feels like maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t be so impossible to cross that line.

Nicholas shifts slightly, turning his body more toward you, and you realize just how close you are now. His leg brushes yours again, this time lingering. His eyes are darker in the low light of the room, his usual calm and controlled demeanor giving way to something more vulnerable, something he’s usually so good at hiding.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, but it carries weight, like he’s asking more than just about how you’re feeling in this moment. He’s asking if you’re ready, if you’re willing to let whatever this is between you two finally come to the surface.

You nod, your mouth dry, unable to trust your voice to respond. Your heart is pounding, and you’re acutely aware of every inch of space between your bodies—or lack thereof.

His hand moves from the back of the couch, sliding down slowly, deliberately, until his fingers are resting on your shoulder, gentle but firm, as if testing the waters. You don’t pull away. In fact, you lean in just a fraction, closing the distance, and you see the shift in his expression—his guarded facade softening as his breath hitches slightly.

It’s so quiet in the room now, save for the soft, steady sound of your breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. You can feel the tension building, thick and palpable, wrapping around the two of you like a thread that’s been pulled tight, ready to snap at any second.

He tilts his head, just the slightest bit, his gaze flicking down to your lips for a moment before meeting your eyes again. It’s a small, almost imperceptible movement, but it feels like the ground beneath you is shifting.

You lean in, your breath catching in your throat, and for a second, everything else falls away—the interview, the movie, even Cooper snoring softly on the other side of the couch. It’s just you and Nicholas, and the space between you feels like it’s vanishing.

His hand moves to the back of your neck, his touch impossibly gentle, and you feel your breath falter as your heart skips a beat. He’s so close now that you can see the way his pupils have dilated, the soft rise and fall of his chest matching your own.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with something unspoken, something fragile but undeniable.

You shake your head, barely able to manage the words, “Don’t stop.”

And with that, the tension that’s been simmering between you for months finally breaks. He closes the distance, his lips brushing against yours softly at first, tentative, as if he’s still giving you the chance to pull away. But you don’t. You lean into the kiss, your hand coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of it. His lips are warm and soft, and you can feel the unspoken words behind the way he holds you, the way his hand slips to the nape of your neck, pulling you in closer. There’s a gentleness to the kiss, but also a hunger—a need that’s been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

Your fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer as the kiss grows more urgent, more intense. The world around you falls away entirely, and all that matters is the way his lips move against yours, the way his hands grip your waist like he’s afraid to let go.

When you finally pull apart, your foreheads rest against each other, both of you breathing heavily, the room around you still thick with the weight of what just happened. You don’t say anything at first—there’s no need to. The look in his eyes says everything.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Nicholas finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, your heart still racing. “Me too.”

There’s a moment of quiet between you again, but this time, it feels different—less tense, more comfortable, like something has finally clicked into place. Nicholas watches you with that same look of admiration, the one you’ve caught glimpses of before but never fully allowed yourself to acknowledge. Now, it’s out in the open, undeniable.

Slowly, he leans in again. The kiss is slow, unhurried and easy. He hums at the taste of your lips, your hands reached up for his shoulders as you deepen the kiss. You both part after a moment, opening your eyes to meet his darkened eyes.

“Knew it.” Cooper rings out, his voice groggy and tired.

You both snap your heads toward Cooper, your bodies still close, as if you’re caught in the middle of a secret you thought no one else knew. He’s sitting up, rubbing his eyes lazily, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face as he watches you.

“Fucking knew it,” he repeats, his voice groggy but teasing, clearly amused by the moment he’s woken up to. His eyes narrow slightly, a knowing glint in them as he looks between you and Nicholas. “You two think you’re so slick, huh?”

You feel a flush creep up your neck, the heat of embarrassment mixing with the adrenaline still pulsing through you from the kiss. Nicholas tenses beside you, his jaw tightening for a split second before he exhales, leaning back slightly but keeping an arm casually draped around you.

“Cooper…” Nicholas begins, his voice steady but with a hint of exasperation.

“What? I’m just saying,” Cooper continues, throwing up his hands defensively, but the grin never leaves his face. “It’s about time. Thought I was gonna have to give you two a nudge.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Cooper, being Cooper, doesn’t seem fazed by anything, and it’s almost a relief that he’s not taking this too seriously. You can feel the tension easing out of Nicholas, too, his posture relaxing as he shakes his head.

“Were you even asleep?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at Cooper, trying to divert the attention away from the blush still lingering on your cheeks.

Cooper snickers, leaning back into the couch like he’s settling in for a good story. “Oh, I was out. But I guess I woke up just in time for the good part.”

Nicholas groans lightly, rubbing a hand over his face, but there’s a small, amused smile playing on his lips. He glances at you, a soft look in his eyes, and even with Cooper’s teasing, you can still feel that unspoken connection between the two of you—stronger now, undeniable.

“Well, now that you're awake,” Nicholas says, standing up and stretching, his hand lingering on your back for a moment before he lets go, “you wanna order food?”

Cooper grins, sitting up straighter. “Oh, I see. Change the subject. Nice try, man. But yeah, I could eat.”

You laugh, standing up as well, the warmth of Nicholas’s earlier touch still lingering on your skin. Despite Cooper’s teasing, there’s a lightness in the room now, like something that had been building for so long has finally settled. The moment between you and Nicholas wasn’t lost—it’s just the beginning.

As you walk to the kitchen with Nicholas, Cooper still muttering something under his breath about “finally,” you exchange a quick, knowing glance with Nicholas, and the spark that lit up between you earlier remains. There’s no rush. Whatever this is, it’s yours, and it’s just getting started.

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[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, non - con, manhandling, religious subtext (it's sydney)

Sydney has never felt this way before. He doesn't know the name of that feeling, the warmth that fills his chest and tightens his throat and reddens his cheeks as you sit before him at the library counter. He can't explain the pulse in his loins and the sweat that sticks to his back when you lean in to ask him something and your shirt opens up slightly, revealing such soft, mesmerizing skin. His hands start to itch and his mouth waters and he feels almost thirsty - but water never seems to quench whatever it is he's deprived of.

He wants to ask someone - maybe brother Jordan or his father, but something deep within him, some basic instinct, rings a bell, a reminder that there is nothing pure or holy about the feelings he harbors towards you. He knows love. He's read about it - he knows he loves God, he loves his church, his friends, his books. He knows love is gentle. Love is caring and tender and quiet, love is giving.

But when it comes to you, he only wants to take. He wants to bite your cheeks when you smile, to squeeze you in his arms until he hears your fragile bones crack. He wants to rip off your skin and crawl in your shell - to see your insides, to admire every inch of your flesh for his own sick satisfaction. He even keeps a box of everything you've ever lost - small trinkets, cheap bracelets, ripped socks, locks of hair... Anything to feel closer to you.

And yet Sydney tries to fight his urges - he averts eyes when you bend to pick something and pretends not to notice your bare legs in those mini skirts, the way the school swimsuit hugs your curves perfectly, or how your lips part when you bite down on a pencil. Or the marks of you teeth on the yellow wood, your smugded lipstick as you leave the bathroom, your hands on his shoulder with your nails digging in—

Sydney is a man of God, but you make him question his faith. In the sunlight everything is brighter, but when night comes, so do the nightmares. His pillow becomes softer, warmer - it lingers with the scent of your hair and he can't help imagining you laying next to him with an adoring smile on those luscious lips of yours. And as fatigue spreads over his tired body, his prayers long forgotten, the same dream haunts him - the one he's had since the day he first saw you.

You're no longer laying next to him - you're under him instead. Your hair isn't spread out angelically, but twisted and disheveled, wrapped around his fist. He's towering over you, tilting your chin up - holding you so tightly against his body you can't move an inch. Your eyes are red and swollen, lips bruised and bitten bloody - and you're trembling like an injured animal. You look so small, so pathetically adorable, so very naked and afraid, and splayed out like a feast in front of him, and he just devours you like the predator he knows he is.

You whine something incomprehensible along the lines of a plea, begging to be let go - but all your words become white noise to Sydney. His hands circle your throat painfully and only a few broken moans escape before you shut up completely. The man keeps thrusting into you without a sense of shame, egged on by the deep, inaudible sobs that shake your body to its core. The voice inside his head chants "mine, mine, mine" like a spell, like a curse that binds you both for all eternity.

Sydney always wakes up in cold sweat, unable to catch his breath. It's terrifying, seeing his darkest desires play out over and over each night. And as he tries to catch his breath and forget the taste of your neck on his tongue, there is one thought he never seems to fully rid himself of. How long until dreams are not enough to feed the monster inside of him?

How long until it all becomes reality?

[buck-star]

Sydney, I have a question about Mob!Bucky 👀❤️

How protective is he? 👀💕 Is he overly protective? Just the right amount? The jealous kind of protective? The possessive protective? 🥰❤️

Just a questions to start some thoughts 🤭💖💖

(love. @elixirfromthestars ✨)

MELLLLLLL! Oh, I love that! I needed a bit to come up with something but I guess that’s cute. Our big mob boss being all possessive and sweet with his babydoll.❤️❤️

Whats his, thats his | B.B

>> He wouldn’t consider himself as too possessive, but he protects what his. Talks with others fine. Some guys trying to flirt with you? Not so fine for the mobster. <<

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Coffeeshop Owner!Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1.270 Words

Warnings: established relationship, fluff, possessive!Bucky, more fluff, begging, so much more fluff, kissing

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

A soft smile creeped onto your lips as you noticed everyone in the little cafe shop you owned becoming quiet. You knew exactly who walked in, whose heavy footsteps were visible, and also why he was visiting you during work. You didn't have to turn around to know he was grinning, loving the effect he had on everyone — and especially on the man who was way too close and flirty around you.

You slowly turned around with a latte macchiato in your hand, placing it in front of the customer, who was the only one who didn't notice the mobster walking in. The man — who introduced himself as John — smiled back at you, reaching his hand out to place on yours. He slowly pulled your hand closer to himself, stroking his thumb softly over the back of your hand. “Soft hands, I like that. Do you think we could get coffee together?”

You didn't get the opportunity to answer, as Bucky's deep voice is audible from behind John. You smirk at your boyfriend, who towers over the other man, a deep frown on his face as he gritted his teeth, annoyed and possessive. “Coffee black. Not a little boy like this here.”

Bucky Barnes — also known as the white wolf — nodded toward the man who just held your hand and is now almost slipping off his seat. You shook your head at Bucky while he grinned at you with a triumphant smile on his plump lips. Sometimes he loves the effect he had on people a bit too much, especially when he came to guys who were thinking they could pick up on you. He loved to see confident men being all shy and small when he came into their view, and especially when he showed them that you were his — only his.

“Good morning to you too, Buck,” you chuckled as you turned back to the machine to make a coffee for your boyfriend. He grumbled, more at himself than at you, but you heard it anyway. He sighed, walking around the counter after glaring at John once again. Bucky approached behind you with only a few steps, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against his broad chest.

“Wasn't that good? My babydoll thought it's fine to go working that early,” he mumbled into your ear, kissing down your neck until he reached your jaw. You shivered in his arms, grasping the surface of the counter in front of you. Bucky laughed softly, his warm breath coming down against the soff skin of your neck, and a soft whimper escaped your lips. Luckily, only Bucky was able to hear it, but your cheeks heated up anyway. “N’ then I come here and see that jerk flirting; what's mine, huh?”

“You know I don't care if they flirt; I don't want anyone but you,” you said softly, leaning your head back against Bucky's shoulder. Your hands found their way to his neck, playing with the soft, short locks while you pulled his head down to kiss him. But he had other plans, pulling his head back and letting go of you before he took a step backwards. “Buckyyyy.”

“No whining, babydoll. Guess my coffee is ready, don't want it to get cold, do we?” He asked with a mischievous grin on his lips. You growled before placing his coffee on the counter opposite where you stand. John was still sitting there; his eyes widened as he watched the interaction between you and Bucky.

You cleared his throat, getting yours and Bucky's attention. While you had your soft smile across your lips — for every nice customer, but definitely not the one you only reserved for Bucky — while Bucky narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “He's… The white wolf is your boyfriend?”

You chuckled at his wording but nodded — White Wolf, the big and strong mafia boss. Would they all know what you know? They would be less afraid of Bucky — of the sweet little puppy who comes home after a stressful day and curls into your side. The soft man, who treats you like a queen, carries you in his hands and only wants you to be happy, protected, cared for, and especially for you to feel loved and perfectly with him by your side.

“James Barnes, the white wolf, that's me,” Bucky grinned, taking a sip of his coffee. You rolled your eyes playfully, earning an raised eyebrow from Bucky, who noticed it in the corner of his eyes. He turned back to face you completely, putting the coffee back down before he grabbed your waist and pulled you into him once again. “Don't ya dare to roll ya pretty eyes at me, babydoll?”

You giggle, a sound Bucky adores. Plus the sweet smile that made your eyes light up — the smile that was only reserved for him and him alone. He finally leaned down, your eyes wandering from his ocean blue eyes down to his slightly scrunched nose — which was caused by his big smile — until your eyes stopped at his plump lips. Your tongue darted instinctively out and slid across your lips.

“Such a needy one. Tell me what you want, babydoll,” he chuckled, earning another whine from you. Bucky, thick fingers dug further into your waist, warning you to stop whining. “Come on, you were so talkative earlier. Where's my good girl?”

You almost moaned; he knew exactly what to do to make your knees weak. Your heart was beating faster with excitement, the love you felt for him growing in your stomach until you couldn't help yourself any longer. “Kiss me, please. Need you to stop teasing me and kiss me, bubba.”

Bucky groaned; he loves to hear either his name or that nickname slipping past your lips. He leaned down, capturing your lips softly with his while he pulled you even closer to himself. Bucky noticed the sound of a moving share, knowing that John finally fucked up and won't bother — flirt — with you any longer. Bucky may have been a mobster, but he doesn't like violence unless it has to be; other than that, he doesn't mind just being possessive over what he loves — his babydoll, you — and letting everyone see who you belonged to.

“Like that?” He asked as he pulled away softly. Bucky let his forehead lean against yours and smirked at you. Your eyes were shining even brighter, and the smile on your lips was the most precious thing ever as you tried to catch your breath. You shook your head, addicted to his lips moving against yours, his tongue dancing with yours. He laughed, rough but soft, sending another shiver down your spine.

You brought your hands to his neck, fingers digging into his soft skin, while you got on your tiptoes to kiss him again. He wanted to make you beg a little more, but when he looked down at you and saw your soft pouting but also the hickeys he left all over your collarbones and chest, he leaned down to kiss you once again. There would be another opportunity for him to make you beg later that day, when the two of you are back home. So he decided to give you what you wanted, plus he got what he wanted — you to be close and everyone else to know that you belong to him so they won't flirt with you. Bucky didn't mind them talking to you; he knew you loved him. But no flirting unless it's him who flirts with you — then he becomes possessive and even more protective.

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Taglist: @pono-pura-vida @sergeantbarnessdoll @rogersbarber @kimmie113080 @sebastianstanisahotmf

[zuhaism]

⊹ ｡˚ 𓂃 ♡ Y/NRINA FAN FAVOURITES ?! 

[ navigation ] pt2

pairing : aespa5th!member x yoo jimin

synopsis : fan favourite y/nrina moments that convince them that they’re more than friends

genre : fluff

┈ clip 1

“we’re in sydney… nature. there’s y/n sunbathing on the grass”

giselle and karina walked over to you. her already closed eyes tightened as their shadows loomed over her. “she’s enjoying the moment..” karina explained to the camera.

“shes also asleep” giselle said with a giggle after nudging the girl and getting no reaction. “yah.. wake up!” karina poked y/n’s side. she flinched and warned her “do it again and ill jump you.”

karina giggled and poked the girls side deeper than before making her sit up. karina stood up and started running while y/n chased after her.

the clip got cut off to y/n on top of karina in the background of winter saying goodbye to the camera. they were on the grass as y/n sprawled her arms out over karina. if you squint you could see y/n cuddling into her.

y/nsairpods : nahh what they doing back there in 4:59

winterinari : we all saw that y/n

┈ clip 2

“helloooo everyonee !!”

“we raided y/ns room”

the live showed ningning, giselle and winter on y/n’s bed. it was currently 12:40am.

“what are you guys doing up?”

“we drank coffee hihi” said ningning as they looked for interesting comments.

“where’s y/n and karina?” read giselle aloud. “here they are.. unnie ill cover your face.” my’s could hear ningning whisper as they turned the camera around.

showing karina facing them straddling y/n on her gaming chair with her hands wrapped around y/n’s shoulder. while she played minecraft.

“haiii” karina waved with her bare face being covered by winters finger. “y/n say hi” winter spoke up.

she raised the hand that was on her keyboard and waved, her gaze still on the monitor. karina giggled and nestled her head deeper into the crook of the girl's neck, turning her attention back to her phone.

ningfordays : THEYRE DATING CMON

meowrina : mann if my girl aint clingy like that i dont want her (i want karina)

┈ clip 3

“now were done with our japan tour..” karina said still chewing on her food. beside her was y/n who eyed her food and opened her mouth.

karina picked up a piece of pickle and fed it to the younger girl. “you gave me vegetables.” y/n made a disgusted face.

“next time get ur own.” y/n made an annoyed face. “you look like a nerd with those glasses on .. chat do you agree with me. please comment ‘karina is a nerd’ i will be watching when this video uploads.”

y/n said whilst taking the camera from karina’s hands and fighting her off before she could get it back. “stop” karina sulked, going back to her food and ignoring y/n who shoved the camera on her face.

“atleast im a cute nerd.” y/n giggled at that.

“my cute nerd”

┈ clip 4

“hello everyone today i’ll be doing y/n’s make up yay!” karina said as she clapper her hands. she layed out the make up materials. “go wash your face first.” karina said to y/n who looked like she just had woken up. with her messy hair and oversized tshirt and pants.

“today we’re going to stroll around nyc but y/n is tired from jetlag so im helping her with her make up.”

y/n came back a little fresher than before. “come sit down.” karina motioned for y/n to sit infront if her. where she prepped a chair so the camera could capture it.

karina was standing as she did y/n’s make up until she got to her eyeliner. “agh this is hard while standing.” karina groaned as she pulled back from applying the eyeliner on y/n’s eyelid.

“sit” y/n pulled karina down on her lap as she was already towering above her. the camera caught the tips of karina’s ears turning red

y/n held karina close, steadying her as she worked on the eyeliner. making karina have the height advantage while y/n just closed her eyes and looked up.

ninging : ik what u are

tinniewinter : idk if i wanna be karina or y/n

┈ clip 5

“cut!” the choreographer called out. aespa was rehearsing for their synk hyper line tour in japan. everyone let out a breath of exhaustion as they let their muscles loose from posing.

karina approached y/n, who stood at her spot with her eyes closed, caught in a moment of post-performance relaxation. she didn’t even flinch when karina grabbed at her hoodie strings that got in her shirt from the vigorous dancing. fixing her hoodie.

she looked back up to face y/n and made eye contact with her. the camera caught the tip of her ears turning red. before she went in to wrap her arms around the girls shoulder. trying to ignore the flustered feeling from the sudden eye contact.

y/n, slightly taken aback, looked at karina with a hint of confusion. she returned the embrace by wrapping her arms around karina’s slim waist.

[luckyroll3]

Save a Horse; Ride a Cowboy

Summary: On a month-long sabbatical from your stressful New York life, you escape to a remote Australian cattle station, only to meet Chan—a cocky, womanizing cowboy with no interest in commitment. The chemistry is instant, and soon you’re swept into a wild, no-strings-attached fling. He’s charming, carefree, and exactly the distraction you’re looking for. As your time on the ranch draws to a close, so does your steamy affair, leaving you refreshed… but will you be able to leave him behind? You’re not so sure.

Fuck Boy Bang Chan x Reader (f); Fling, Smut

Warnings: This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only. Includes explicit sexual content, smut, etc.

The first-class seat envelopes you like a cocoon as you sip champagne and watch the clouds drift by, miles from the suffocating bustle of New York City and the endless briefs, contracts, suits and other things you deal with as a corporate lawyer for a Fortune 500 company. You let out a long exhale, the stress already beginning to melt away. An eternity later, the Sydney airport materializes below, and you step into the blinding Australian sun, squinting as you make your way to the rental car. 

The GPS guides you into the heart of the outback, red dirt and scrubby bush stretching endlessly on either side. Sweat beads on your forehead as the AC sputters its last breath. Suddenly, the engine lets out a prolonged groan and the car rolls to a stop, steam billowing from the hood. 

"No, no, no..." You bang on the steering wheel before getting out of the car to pop the hood. You tap frantically at your phone. No service. Of course there’s no fucking service, you think to yourself as you toss the phone back into your bag. According to the GPS, the ranch is still 15 miles away. 

You sit on the scorching trunk, the heat of the metal dampened through your jeans, scanning the shimmering horizon for any sign of life. One hour passes, then two. Your mouth feels like sandpaper, your water bottle long since drained. As the sun climbs higher, a figure appears in the distance, barely a speck against the vast blue sky. It grows larger, taking the shape of a horse and rider. The horse canters closer until it towers above you, its coat glistening with sweat. Your eyes travel up the muscular legs of the rider, past slim hips and a broad chest, to settle on a face that makes your breath catch. 

You hear him say your name, watching as his pink, full lips form each syllable. His Australian accent makes the pronunciation sound sexy. 

“That’s me,” you answer. “And you are?” You use your palm as a make-shift visor to block the blinding glare cast by the bright ass sun as you look up at him, your eyes taking in his features. Those gorgeous pouty lips are accompanied by a strong jawline, a broad nose, and beautiful deep brown eyes that stand out against his tan skin. The face shaded beneath the wide-brimmed cowboy hat is absolutely breathtaking.

He swings down from the saddle in one smooth motion. "I'm Chan, the foreman," he says with a vibrant, dimpled grin. "We were getting worried when you didn't show up on time." 

His gaze rakes over you, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way your tank top clings to your curves. You feel stripped bare under his appraisal, heat rising under your skin that had nothing to do with the relentless sun. There is a glint in his eye, a confidence bordering on arrogance, that both unnerved and thrilled you.

"Car trouble," you reply, struggling to keep your voice even as you state the obvious. "I don't suppose you could give me a ride?"

Chan's lips quirk. "I think I can manage that." He holds out a hand, pulling you up off the car with surprising strength. "Ever ridden before?"

"Oh, I’ve ridden before,” you joke with a smirk, “just not a horse.” You swing your backpack onto your shoulders as the sound of Chan’s hearty laugh echoes through the air, his head thrown back in amusement. 

“Okay, then. Let’s get you on.” He gives you a quick lesson on how to mount the horse, instructing you where to place your hands and guiding your foot into the stirrup. With his strong hands grasping your waist firmly and steering you, you mount the horse. The leather of the saddle creaks under your thighs. After checking to make sure you are situated and comfortable, he effortlessly hops onto the horse directly in front of you. "Hold on tight then," he instructs as he throws a wink over his shoulder. "And enjoy the view."

You tentatively wrap your arms around his waist, fingertips brushing against the hard planes of his abdomen. As the horse lurches forward, you instinctively tighten your grip, your chest pressing against Chan's back. Even through his shirt, you can feel the heat of his skin, the flex of muscles as he nudges the horse forward. The rocking motion of the gallop jostles you against him in a way that feels almost indecent. You try to create some space between your bodies but Chan only chuckles, the vibration rumbling through you. 

"Relax, city girl. We've got a ways to go." He readjusts your arms around his body, bringing you back to the position you were in initially before you tried to distance yourself. 

His words held a suggestion that makes your pulse quicken. The scrubland blurs into streaks of ocher and sage as you surrender to the rhythm, to the solid warmth of Chan's body against yours. By the time the ranch comes into view, nestled in the shadow of a rust-colored mesa, your thighs ache and an unfamiliar tension coils in your core. Chan swings down and reaches up to help you dismount, his hands firm on your waist. For a charged moment, you are suspended against him, close enough to see the golden flecks in his eyes, to feel his breath ghost across your lips. Then your feet hit the ground, and the spell is broken.

"Welcome to Wandalla Station," Chan says, his voice husky. "Let me show you around." 

As he leads you past the weathered barns and corrals, you can't shake the feeling that you’d signed up for more than you bargained for. But as you sneak a glance at Chan's profile, the way his shirt stretches across his shoulders, the way his jeans cling to his round ass, the way he walks with a certain swagger, you find yourself craving the adventure. New York and its pressures feel worlds away. Here, under the endless outback sky, anything seems possible.

He leads you down a gravel path towards a small cottage. “I’ve sent someone with the tow truck to get the car and I’ll call a mechanic in the morning. You should have your luggage within the hour, but if there’s anything you need in the meantime, let me know.”

“I should be fine. Thanks.”

“This is you. There’s cold water and fizzy drinks in the refrigerator.” 

You nod as you set your backpack on the table. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“Not a problem. I’m looking forward to having you with us over the next month.” He flashes his smile again before heading back out. “Dinner’s at 7:00,” he calls over his shoulder as the door shuts behind him. 

***

Over the next week, you try to throw yourself into ranch life, eager to embrace the change of pace. But it quickly becomes clear that your city skills are of little use here. The first time Chan takes you out to muster cattle, you can barely stay in the saddle. The horse seems to sense your inexperience, tossing her head and sidestepping skittishly. You’re pretty sure she gives you a side-eye. 

"Easy there, city girl," Chan calls, reining his mount effortlessly beside you. "You've got to show her who's boss."

His tone is teasing, but there's a glint in his eye that sends a shiver down your spine. 

“I’m pretty sure she knows she’s the boss.” Chan smirks at your joke. 

You grip the reins tighter, determined to prove yourself. Chan reaches over, his hand covering yours.

"Like this," he murmurs, guiding your hands. His touch is electric, lingering a beat longer than necessary. "You'll get the hang of it soon."

And slowly, you do. The days take on a rhythm of their own - early mornings, the scent of eucalyptus on the breeze, the lowing of cattle. You learn to appreciate the burn of your muscles after a long day, the satisfaction of a job well done. 

And always, there's Chan. 

He's never far, his presence a constant pull. He flirts as easily as he breathes, his charm as natural as the landscape. You watch him joke with the jackaroos, see the way the station hands, male and female, hang on his every word. And when his gaze finds yours across the paddock, you feel the heat of it like a brand.

"Looking good out there," he says one afternoon, leaning against the fence as you brush down your horse. It’s taken the entire week, but she’s finally come around to liking you, just a little bit. But you’ll take what you can get. "You might make a proper jillaroo yet."

You roll your eyes, but you can't suppress a smile. "I thought I was just a ‘city girl’."

Chan grins, slow and devastating. "Oh, you are. But I've got a feeling about you. I think you might be fun."

Fun? you say to yourself, wondering how he’s defining the word, wondering what actually constitutes being fun in his eyes.

He saunters closer, reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers graze your cheek and your breath catches. For a suspended moment, you're caught in his orbit, drowning in the depths of his eyes and dimples. 

Then he steps back, the spell broken. He picks up the saddle and begins walking towards the barn. "Drink later?” he asks over his shoulder. “The crew's heading to the pub. I'll save you a dance?" His eyes meet yours.

You nod, not trusting your voice. As he walks away, you breathe out slowly, your skin tingling where he touched you. 

You know you're playing with fire. Chan's reputation precedes him - the love 'em and leave 'em type, a heartbreaker with a trail of conquests, a literal fuck boy. But out here, with the red dirt beneath your feet and the vastness of the sky above, consequences feel far away. 

That night at the pub, the crowd is lively; there are workers from the ranch as well as locals from town. You perch at the bar, watching Chan work the room. He's magnetic, laughter trailing in his wake. When he catches you looking, he winks, that damnable dimple flashing. 

As the live band plays, you watch Chan dance with a few girls. As he thanks one girl and she walks away, another swoops in to take her spot. He sways with each of them, their bodies grinding against his as he guides them expertly through the moves. He’s a great dancer. Your body aches to be next to him, to feel his touch.

Eventually, he finds his way over to you, leaning casually against the bar in front of your stool. 

“How’s your night going?”

You take a sip of your beer, savoring the cool liquid as it slides down your throat. "Not bad. Though I think I'm still adjusting to outback nightlife." 

Chan chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "What, this isn't like your fancy New York clubs?" 

"Not quite," you laugh. The pub is crowded and noisy, music blaring from the speakers now that the band is packing up. The air is thick with the scent of beer and sweat. She hasn’t been to a place like this since law school. "But it has its charms." 

"Oh yeah?" Chan leans in closer, his voice dropping low. "And what might those be?" 

Your eyes meet his, and the intensity you find there makes you clear your throat. You're suddenly aware of how close he is, the heat radiating from his body. "Well," you say, struggling to keep your voice steady, "Good music. Cold beer. And…the company's not bad either." 

Chan's grin widens. “Well good then.” He finishes his beer and turns to face the bar. “Lia honey?” You turn to see he’s referring to the pretty brunette bartender at the other end of the bar, currently handing off two full pitchers or beer. 

“Another one?” she asks as she walks to the register to deposit the cash she was just handed. 

“Yes, ma’am. And I’m covering her tab,” he points his thumb in my direction.

“Got it.”

Chan returns his gaze to me. “Anything you want, it’s on me.”

“Thanks. So do you do this for all the ranch guests.”

“Not at all.” He leans in to whisper in my ear. “Just the ones I find incredibly sexy.”

“Here you go, Chris.” Lia slides him another bottle of beer. 

“Thanks, mate,” he says without breaking his eye contact with you. 

“I guess I’ll take that as a complement,” you respond when Lia walks away. 

“You should. You are incredibly hot, city girl.” He brings the bottle to his lips, taking a large gulp. He licks beer from his lips before another devastating grin crosses his face. 

You try to think of a response, but you’re a bit flustered. Instead of speaking, you sip your beer. Chan notices and chuckles at the effect he’s having on you. 

“Channie!” someone calls from the pool table. “You’re holding up the fucking game. Are you coming or do you need more time to flirt?”

“I’m coming, ya cunt!” he yells, before turning his gaze back to you. “Talk more later, yeah?” You nod. “Great!” 

While Chan and his friends play pool, you continue to watch him. As Chan lines up his cue, muscles flexing beneath his tight black t-shirt, you lean against the back of the stool and take a sip of your beer, your eyes focused on him as he shoots. He notices you watching and grins when you don’t avert your gaze. The game continues, but your eyes keep drifting back to him, each time meeting his gaze. A small smile creeps across your lips as you both share a moment of silent understanding before he takes his next shot.

"He's trouble, that one," a voice says beside you. You turn to see the bartender leaning against her forearms on the bar, her smile knowing. "Chan Christopher Bahng, breaking hearts across the Outback."

"You know him well?" you ask, trying to keep your tone casual.

She laughs. "Everyone knows Chan. I'm Lia, by the way.” You introduce yourself and shake her hand. “He and I go way back. We’ve been friends since the first day of Kinder."

“What's his deal?” you ask, intrigued. 

“His deal?” Lia repeats, raising an eyebrow. “Chan’s a good bloke, don’t get me wrong. But when it comes to women…. He’s a notorious flirt. He manages to have a fling with every new woman who moves to town and every tourist who passes through the ranch. He can’t help himself.”

You take another sip of your beer, contemplating her words. So, he’s a smooth-talking player, you think to yourself. I can work with that. But men that looked and acted like him often had small dicks or were bad in bed. You were willing to find out though.

“And despite him always telling them he’s not interested in anything serious or something more, they always fall for him…then have their hearts broken.”

“You too?” You hope she doesn’t think you’re being forward or nosy. 

“Eew, gross.” She makes a face like she’s dry heaving and that causes you to laugh. “Fuck no! He’s like my brother. Where you ladies see hot guy, I see a dirt eating, hair pulling, crybaby.”

“Heh! Sorry, I was just curious.”

“No worries. Can I get you another? Or something more expensive since Channie’s paying?” She wiggles her eyebrows and chuckles.

“Oh Lia, you and I will be great friends,” you say with a laugh. “I’ll just do another beer.”

As you watch Chan flirt and charm, you can't help but imagine his hands on your skin, his lips on your neck. The wanting is a physical ache, a pull low in your belly. 

Later, alone in your bed, you let your hands wander, tracing your fingers over your body. You imagine Chan above you, his eyes dark with desire. You feel his hands exploring every inch of you, his touch feather-light, and the heat of his breath against your ear as you sink your fingers into your core. As you pump your digits in and out, and alternate with rubbing your clit, you can’t help but to moan. When you cum, his name is a whisper on your lips. 

In the stillness after, you stare at the shadows on the ceiling. You know this is dangerous territory. You came here to escape complications, not to create new ones. But as sleep claims you, it's his face you see, that roguish grin inviting you to take a chance.

***

Your second week is going much better. You’ve learned a lot and are already showing signs of improvement. And the tasks you initially found annoying and tedious are now calming and meditative.

The sound of footsteps echoes through the stables, jolting you from your thoughts. You've been cleaning tack for the better part of an hour, the monotonous task giving your mind ample time to wander—to him. 

"Working hard or hardly working?" His voice is a lazy drawl, sending a shiver down your spine.

You turn to find Chan leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, that ever-present smirk playing on his lips. "Some of us take our jobs seriously," you retort, but there's no real bite to your words.

He saunters closer, invading your space. The air feels electric, charged with the tension that's been building between the two of you. "And some of us know how to have a little fun."

You roll your eyes, feigning nonchalance even as your heart races. "Is that what you call it? Fun?"

His hand reaches out, brushing a straw of grass from your shoulder. His touch lingers, trailing across your shoulder and down your arm. "You telling me you don't want to have fun with me, city girl?” His eyes lock on yours for a second before he leans down to whisper in your ear. “How long are you gonna play hard to get?" He pulls back to resume looking at you.

Your breath hitches. This close, you can see the faint scar above his brow. You can smell the scent of him—leather, vanilla, and sweat. 

"I'm not looking for complications," you manage, your voice shakier than you'd like.

His grin widens. "Who said anything about complications? I'm a simple man, sweetheart. I see something I want, I ask for it. I see something I like, I go for it."

And there it is, laid bare. The offer, the temptation. No pretenses, no promises. Just raw, unbridled desire.

Your eyes drop to his mouth. Those full, sensual lips that have starred in countless of your late-night fantasies. "And what is it you like? What is it that you want?" Your gaze flits back up to his eyes. You can be just as direct when you want to.

He leans in again, his breath hot against your ear. "I think you know."

Something snaps inside you, the last of your reservations crumbling. You surge forward, capturing his mouth with yours. He responds instantly, his lips fierce and demanding. It's a clash of teeth and tongues, a kiss that's more battle than caress.

His hands grip your waist, lifting you onto the workbench. Your legs wrap around him, pulling him closer. You can feel him, hard and insistent, pressing against you. The two of you make out furiously while Chan rubs his contained, hard cock against your crotch. 

When he brings his hand to your belt buckle, you hesitate. "Wait," you gasp, breaking away. "Not here."

His eyes are dark, pupils blown with lust. "Then where?"

You shoot him a coy smile. "Tonight, after dinner. My cabin." He brings his lips back to yours and kisses you slowly, deeply for another minute.

“Tonight. After dinner. Your cabin,” he repeats, each phrase punctuated with a kiss. 

Later that evening, in the privacy of your cabin, you discover just how talented Chan's hands and mouth can be. He plays your body like an instrument, coaxing out symphonies of pleasure. His mouth moves from your lips down your neck. He leaves no part of you untouched - hot breath against sweaty skin, teeth and tongue tracing every curve along your collarbone, then moving to your breasts. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, tugging, biting, teasing, before lavishing the same attention on the other breast. His lips continue their journey across your body, stopping briefly to kiss your belly button, then landing between your legs. 

He spreads your legs wide and buries his face between them, inhaling your scent deeply. His stubble scratches against your thighs as he teases you with gentle licks and nips. His tongue finds your clit and sucks gently, sending shocks outward. Then he slips several fingers inside you. You arch your back, moaning softly. "Chan...", you whisper, amazed at how good this feels. Your hips buckle up to match his movements, desperate for more. His fingers delve deeper, finding your G-spot and dragging against it rhythmically. You keep reaching down to tug at his hair, telling him how good he is without words. He groans against your clit, a mix of satisfaction and desire. The resulting vibrations teasing you more. You lose track of time, caught in the haze of pleasure. You're on the brink of coming but you want this to last forever. As you push him away, he looks up at you and grins. 

“Come here,” you whisper, and he is all too happy to oblige. He slowly climbs up your body and captures your lips, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

He positions his dick at your entrance, inserting just the tip before pausing. “Tell me you want it,” he demands, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“I want it,” you reply, staring into his eyes, 

When he finally sinks his hard cock into you, it's with a completeness that steals your breath. He’s huge; the girth fills you up and stretches you out, making you ache for more. His hips push into yours, rocking you against his shaft.

“Oh god,” you moan as his thick length slides in and out of you, grazing against your sweet spot with precision on each pass. You lose yourself in his intoxicating rhythm, in the slick slide of skin on skin. His touch is everywhere—bruising, worshiping, consuming. His mouth claims yours, adoration and lust mingling in the messiest of kisses. 

Your hands explore his broad shoulders as he positions himself deeper within you, pumping in and out of your wet heat. You dig your nails into his shoulders, leaving marks that will likely fade but that you hope will remain a reminder of this moment between the two of you for days to come.

Your climax is again building quickly, the waves of heat starting to pulsate outwards from your pussy. He murmurs dirty things in your ear that only serve to heighten the sensations. It simultaneously pulls you back to reality and causes you to lose yourself all in one breathless moment. 

"Almost there," he growls against your neck before biting lightly. You aren’t sure if it is a statement or a question. Your sharp intake of breath only fuels him, driving him harder into you as he pulls out to slam back in with a force that makes stars explode behind your eyes.

And when you shatter, it's with his name on your lips, coupled with praise and expletives escaping in a burst of raw pleasure. You come hard against him, writhing underneath him as a guttural sound escapes from somewhere deep within your soul—a mix between pain and ecstasy and pure bliss—the kind that only comes from being truly fucked well. And if you’re being honest with yourself, you can’t even remember the last time you got fucked, much less the last time you were fucked like this. Fucked into the stratosphere.

He groans loudly, too, at feeling how wet you are when your walls compress around him, thrusting himself faster within you as cum explodes from his tip into the condom. He buries himself inside with one last hard thrust before collapsing beside you. 

In the afterglow, as you lie tangled in sweat-dampened sheets, Chan trails idle fingers along your spine. "Not bad for a city girl," he teases.

You swat at him playfully. "You're not so bad yourself, cowboy." You were impressed and he’d already proved you wrong. Big dick and good in bed. What more could a girl want?

He grins, that boyish, carefree grin that first drew you in. "Oh, sweetheart, you ain't seen nothing yet."

And as he rolls you beneath him, his mouth hot on your neck, you know he's right. This is just the beginning. The start of something reckless and wild and utterly intoxicating.

In the days that follow, you find yourself in Chan's bed more often than your own. Stolen moments between chores, frenzied couplings in the hush of night. Each touch, each kiss, is a brand, a claim. 

He takes you apart with expert hands, learning your body, your desires, the right combination of buttons to push. He whispers filthy promises in your ear, telling you all the wicked things he plans to do. And he makes good on every single one. He also always makes sure you cum every single time.

It's a haze of lust and sweat and pleasure so intense it borders on pain. You've never been so thoroughly ravaged, so completely consumed. Chan is insatiable, and you match him, hunger for hunger.

But it's more than just the sex. It's the way he makes you laugh, the easy banter that flows between you. It's the unexpected moments of tenderness—a brush of his hand, a soft look when he thinks you're not watching.

You remind yourself that this is temporary. That you're both just in it for fun. But in the quiet moments, when he's draped around you, one hand playing in your hair, the other hand tracing shapes into your hip, his heartbeat steady against your back, you can almost let yourself pretend. Pretend that this is something real, something lasting.

You know it's foolish. Chan is a wildfire, burning bright and hot. And you? You're just the kindling, destined to be consumed. But as he pulls you closer, his lips finding yours in the dark, you can't bring yourself to care. For now, in this moment, you let yourself burn. Let yourself drown in his flames.

The days blur together in a haze of stolen glances, teasing touches, and searing encounters that leave you aching for more. Chan is an addiction, one you can't seem to shake. Every time you tell yourself to pull back, to remember that this is just a fling, he's there with that cocky grin, those bulging muscles, and those skilled hands, drawing you back in.

"You're thinking too hard again," he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear as he comes up behind you in the stables. "I can practically hear the gears turning."

You lean back into him, savoring the solid warmth of his chest. "Maybe I like thinking."

He chuckles, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "I can think of much better things for you to be doing."

His hands skim your sides, teasing, promising. His mouth sucks on your neck. You bite your lip, desire warring with doubt. "Chan..."

"Shh." He turns you to face him, his eyes dark with want. "Stop overthinking. Just feel."

And then he's kissing you, deep and demanding, stealing the breath from your lungs. You cling to him, lost in the heat of his mouth, the press of his body against yours. Nothing exists but this, but him.

It's Lia who finally pulls you back to reality. Over drinks at the local bar, she fixes you with a knowing look. "You're falling for him."

You startle, nearly choking on your beer. "What? No. It's not like that. We're just having fun."

She arches a brow. "Honey, I've seen this story play out a hundred times. Girl comes to ranch, falls for Chan's charm, thinks she can change him. It never ends well."

Your cheeks burn, shame and indignation blooming in your chest. "I'm not trying to change him.” And you weren’t. Chan had been very clear about what this was and what it wasn’t. You had also agreed to not make it a thing. “I know what this is. It’s short-term fun. In less than 10 days, I’ll be back on the other side of the world, back to my life, and Chan will be a distant memory. A lovely memory, but a memory all the same. There will be no declarations of love or pleas for change." It sounded convincing. You just hoped you actually believed it yourself.

Lia's expression softens. "I hope so. Chan's a good guy, but he's not the settling down type. I'd hate to see you get hurt. I kinda like you."

“I appreciate that. But you don’t need to worry.” You smile at her before taking another sip of beer.

Her words echo in your head over the next few days. You try to distance yourself, to rebuild the walls Chan so easily tore down, in an attempt to maintain the casualness of your relationship. But he's always there, drawing you in with a look, a touch, a filthy whisper in the dark.

It comes to a head one evening. You're in the stables, brushing down your favorite horse, when you hear a familiar giggle. Your heart clenches as you peer around the corner to see Chan leaning close to one of the new ranch hands, his grin wide and flirtatious. You recognize that look, that pose, that tone.

Jealousy claws at your throat, bitter and choking. You know you have no right, no claim on him. But the sight still stings, a harsh reminder of what you are. What you aren't.

You avoid Chan for the rest of the day, throwing yourself into your work, and using the time to remember and recommit to the original purpose of your entanglements with him. But he finds you that night, concern etched on his handsome face.

"Hey, have I done something wrong?" he asks, reaching for you.

You step back, crossing your arms over your chest. "No. I just... I thought you might want some space. To spend time with... other people. I feel like I’ve been monopolizing your time." You uncross your arms, hoping to seem less closed off.

Understanding dawns in his eyes. "Is this about Jess? We were just talking."

"I know." You swallow hard, hating the quaver in your voice. "I just don't want to crowd you, or cramp your style."

Chan frowns, stepping closer. "Is that what you think? That I'm tired of you?"

You shrug, looking away. "I wouldn't blame you if you were. I'm sure you want some variety."

Strong fingers grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "I want you." His voice is low, intense. "I'm having the time of my life with you. I'm not ready for this to end."

Butterflies flutter in your chest. "You're not?"

"Hell no." He grins, that familiar cocky tilt of his lips. "I mean to have you every way I can, as many times as I can, before you go back to your real life and forget all about little old me."

"I could never forget you," you whisper, the truth of it aching in your bones.

His eyes soften, his thumb brushing your cheek. "Then let me give you some more memories to take with you."

He kisses you then, deep and slow, his hands sliding under your shirt. You melt into him, into the heat of his touch, the promise of his words. For tonight, for the next week, he's yours. 

And you plan to make every second count.

The days of your final week blur together in a haze of passion and pleasure, stolen moments and heated glances. You work side by side during the day, the sun beating down on your skin, sweat dripping down your spine. But every brush of Chan's hand against yours, every smoldering look, promises a replay of the previous night's ecstasy.

And oh, how he delivers on that promise.

Each night, he takes you to new heights, exploring your body with a dedication that borders on worship. He learns every curve, every sensitive spot, playing you like a finely tuned instrument until you're singing his name in breathless gasps and pleas.

But it's not just physical. In the quiet moments after, when you're tangled together, spent and sated, he makes you laugh with his wild stories and shameless flirting. He listens intently as you share your own tales, offering bits of wisdom wrapped in his signature cheekiness.

You try to memorize every detail - the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the rumble of his laugh against your ear, the shape of his dimples, the feel of his calloused hands on your skin. You etch them into your brain, a bittersweet collection to carry back to the life you left behind.

And then, suddenly, your last night is upon you.

There's a heaviness in the air as you walk into Chan's cottage, a sense of finality that weighs on your chest. He feels it too, you can see it in the set of his shoulders, the flicker of something raw in his eyes.

"So this is it, huh?" His voice is light, but there's an undercurrent of emotion he can't quite hide.

"I guess so." You aim for a smile, but it wobbles at the edges. "Time for me to turn back into a pumpkin."

"Nah," he steps into you, hands settling on your hips. "You're a goddess, remember? Whether you're here or in New York."

Your heart clenches, affection and sorrow twisting together. You'll miss this, miss him, more than you ever expected. But you know this is how it has to be.

You wind your arms around his neck, fingers threading into his hair. "Then take me to bed. Give me something to remember you by."

His grin is slow, wicked, sending heat spiraling through your veins. "Oh, baby. When I'm done with you, you won't be able to think of anything else."

And then he's kissing you, deep and desperate, like he wants to crawl inside you and never leave. You answer in kind, pouring every ounce of passion, every unspoken feeling, into the press of your lips, the slide of your tongue.

Clothes hit the floor in a flurry of impatient hands, the need to feel skin on skin overwhelming in its intensity. He walks you back to the bed, lays you down like you're something precious, something to be cherished.

And then he sets about making good on his promise.

He worships every inch of you with hands and lips and tongue, bringing you to the brink again and again only to pull back, to tease, to prolong the sweet agony of your desire. He whispers filthy praise into your skin, telling you how good you feel, how perfect you are, how he's going to make this a night you'll never forget.

When he finally sinks into you, it's with a groan that sounds like it's been punched out of him, raw and harsh and so unbearably sexy. He starts to move, deep, rolling thrusts that light you up from the inside, sparking along your nerve endings like wildfire.

You match him stroke for stroke, hips rising to meet his, nails raking down his back. He hisses as you scrape his skin. You're lost in him, in the motion of your bodies, the mingled sounds of your gasps and moans, the searing heat building in your core.

It's both too much and not enough, this feeling, this moment. You want to stay here forever, suspended in this blissful torment, this excruciating ecstasy. But you can feel your orgasm approaching, the coil winding tighter and tighter, demanding release.

"Chan..." It's a plea, a prayer, a benediction. 

He knows, he always knows. "I've got you," he rasps, his rhythm increasing, driving into you with a force that steals your breath. "Let go. Cum for me."

And you do, his name a broken cry on your lips as rapture crashes over you, through you, exploding in dazzling bursts of light behind your eyelids. He follows a heartbeat later, your name a reverent groan as he spills himself inside the condom, his face a mask of exquisite agony.

You cling to each other as you both come down, sweat-slicked and trembling, exchanging soft, sipping kisses that slowly bank the fire still smoldering in your veins. There's an ache in your chest, a looming sense of loss, but you push it away. This isn't the time for sorrow.

This is a time for gratitude, for celebration. For the joy and freedom and unbridled passion you found in his arms, in this wild Outback that now feels more like home than any place you've ever known.

You fall asleep wrapped around each other, your head on his chest, his heartbeat a steady drum beneath your ear. In the morning, you'll untangle your limbs, share a final, lingering kiss. You'll drive away with a smile on your face and an unfamiliar lightness in your soul, ready to face whatever comes next.

But that's tomorrow. Tonight, in this perfect, shining moment, there is only Chan, and the blissful afterglow of being thoroughly, wonderfully, unforgettably fucked.

You wake a few hours later, surprised to see it’s still dark out. As you slowly open your eyes, the warmth of Chan’s body next to you envelops you. His peaceful expression makes your heart flutter. His thick, full lips call to you and you kiss them gently, causing him to stir awake.

“Mmmm,” he murmurs. “What a nice way to wake up.” He pulls you on top of him and deepens the kiss, his growing erection pressing against your folds. Your own body responds, as you involuntarily begin to grind your crotch against him resulting in him quickly growing harder beneath you. “Shit,” he whispers as his cock springs to attention. “The things you do to me….”

“Well, I’m about to do it one last time.” You take his bottom lip in between your teeth and pull gently before letting go and kissing it. 

Without a word, he reaches over to the nightstand to pull a condom from the decorative glass jar he uses to hold them.

But you quickly grab his arm, shaking your head in protest. "No," you say softly but firmly.

“No?” His eyes narrow to slits as he examines your face.

“No.” You move your hand to his cock, gently massaging it with slow strokes up and down. You make sure to run your palm over the tip each time you reach the top, eliciting soft moans from him. “I want to feel all of you against my walls,” you whisper, biting your lip seductively. Your crotch has not slowed its delicious grind against the base of his shaft. “If that’s okay.”

He can’t contain the wide grin that spreads across his face, his excitement evident at the prospect of fucking you raw. “Is that so?” he asks amused, the pronunciation of the last word heavy with his Australian drawl. You nod. He chuckles before continuing in a soft voice. “Whatever you want, love.” 

You lift your hips to position yourself over his cock before slowly sliding yourself down, allowing your head to roll back as you revel in each inch and savor every sensation as you take him all the way in.

Your body moves with a fluid grace as you ride Chan's length, the muscles of your thighs clenching and releasing in perfect rhythm with your hips. His hands find their way to your waist, gripping it tightly as he watches you. You bring your hands to his chest, stabilizing yourself on top of him. 

The bed springs creak in harmony with your movements as you continue to grind against him, feeling his cock hit every spot that needs hitting. You bite your bottom lip, trying to hold back a moan at the intensity of the sensations coursing through your body.

As you pick up speed, Chan's grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he helps to guide your hips back and forth as he thrusts upwards. Each thrust makes you feel both vulnerable and powerful at once. You look down at him, taking in the sheer desire etched on his face, and it ignites a fire within you. You quicken your pace even more, loving the way his eyes roll back into his head with pleasure.

You lean down, capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss that leaves you both panting for air. You break the kiss and let out a low growl, nipping at his jawline before looking at him again. "You like that?" you ask breathlessly.

His response is a groan mixed with another moan as he nods, his eyes still closed tightly. "God yes."

Encouraged by his response, you speed up once more, your movements becoming more frenzied as you grind against Chan with renewed intensity while you chase your final release. 

"Fuck, you feel so good," Chan groans, his hips bucking up to meet yours. “Why do you feel so good?”

You lean down, pressing your chest against his as you kiss him deeply. The change in angle causes him to hit even deeper inside you, making you gasp against his lips. Chan takes advantage, his tongue sliding against yours as he thrusts up to meet your movements.

You can feel yourself getting close, that familiar tension building. Chan seems to sense it too. One of his hands slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. He rubs tight circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves, and it's like a match to gasoline.

Suddenly, your body goes taut, and your inner walls clench rhythmically around Chan’s cock as you cry out, “Ahhhh!” The sight, sound, and feel of you coming undone pushes Chan over the edge. He groans your name. 

You rest your forehead against his as the two of you try to catch your breaths. You feel the sticky mess start to slide out of you. You don’t mind though, instead feeling a sense of contentment. Apparently neither does he; he is just as lost in the moment, his eyes closed and lips parted, as you breathe in each other’s air. Neither of you feel compelled to move and separate from each other to clean up the evidence of what was surely a poor decision on both of your parts. Absolutely fucking reckless; you both know better. Yet, in this moment, it doesn’t matter. The need for more was undeniable, and rational thinking be damned. 

The bad decisions always feel so right, don’t they.

He breaks the silence first. “That’s certainly one way to say goodbye,” he says with a grin against your lips. 

You chuckle and press a kiss on them. “Didn’t I tell you I could ride?” you whisper. 

His laughter rings out in the room as he wraps his arms tightly around you. 

***

The sun is high and hot as Chan loads your bags into the rental car, the red dirt of the Outback stretching out behind him. There's a bittersweet tinge to the air, a sense of an ending, but also of a new beginning.

You lean against the car, watching him, trying to memorize the lines of his face, the play of muscles under his bronzed skin. He catches you looking and flashes that familiar, cocky grin.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," he teases, closing the trunk with a decisive thud.

"Don't tempt me," you shoot back. "I might just wallpaper my apartment with them."

He laughs, sauntering over to you. "I'll send you some nudes to add to the collection."

"You do that." The banter is easy, familiar; it soothes the ache of leaving. "Just don't be surprised if they end up on a billboard in Times Square."

"Mate, I'd be proud." He settles his hands on your hips, his touch igniting sparks under your skin despite the layers between you. "I'll show those city boys what they're missing."

Your chuckle is a little wobbly, emotion welling up in your throat. "I'm going to miss you," you confess softly. "Miss this."

His eyes gentle, one hand coming up to cup your cheek. "Me too," he murmurs. "More than you know." He stares deeply into your eyes. “Think you might ever return? Cause I certainly wouldn’t mind if you did,” he says softly.

You turn your head to press a kiss to his palm. “If I did, I’d need luxury accommodations next time.” You say, only half-joking. “I don’t know that I could rough it again!” You grin.

He snorts. “Ha! I thought you handled it well enough, city girl. Five-star accommodations can be arranged, if necessary.”

“That would be much appreciated. And if you’re ever in Manhattan, you should give me a ring.”

"Tempting." His thumb strokes your cheekbone, his gaze turning thoughtful. “New York City might be a bit too posh for a bushman like me. But if I ever make it there, you’ll be my first call." 

"I'll hold you to that," you whisper. 

Silence stretches between the two of you as you stare into his eyes. And then he’s kissing you, soft and sweet and full of unspoken emotion.

It ends too soon, as all good things must. 

He leans in, rests his forehead against yours. "This doesn't have to be the end, if we don't want it to be," he whispers. 

You pull away from him and raise an eyebrow. “Oh wooooow,” you say in a singsong voice. “Did someone catch feelings?”

A blush starts at his neck and travels up his face to his ears as he runs his fingers through his hair. He smirks and responds, “Maybe just a little.” He leans in and lowers his voice. “But don’t tell anyone; it could ruin my rep.”

You laugh and push him away playfully. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

Before you know it, you're behind the wheel, the engine humming beneath you. Chan leans in the window, his smile soft around the edges.

"Drive safe," he says quietly. "And don't forget about me when you're back in your fancy office, bossing people around."

You swallow hard, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. "Never," you vow. 

And then you're pulling away, the ranch and the man getting smaller in your rearview mirror. You watch until you can't see him anymore, until the Outback swallows him up like a mirage; there one moment and gone the next.

But he's not gone, not really. He's there in the ache of your muscles, the bruises on your ass, the bite marks on your neck, the delicious soreness between your thighs. He's seared into your skin, imprinted on your soul. 

The drive to the airport passes in a haze of memories, snapshots of stolen moments and heated encounters flashing through your mind. The curve of his smile, the roughness of his hands, the way he made you feel alive, desired, free. It was a fantasy come to life, and now it's time to return to reality.

Check-in and security are a blur, and then you're settling into your first-class seat, the plush leather cradling your weary body. As the plane lifts off, you gaze out the window, watching the harsh, beautiful landscape fall away below you.

Despite the melancholy tugging at your heart, you feel lighter somehow, unburdened. The weight of expectation, of obligation, seems to have disappeared somewhere in the red dirt and endless skies of the Outback.

You came looking for escape, for distraction, and you found so much more. Freedom. Passion. A piece of yourself you hadn't even realized was missing.

And Chan... The thought of him brings a small, secret smile to your lips. He'd been everything you needed and nothing you expected. A friend, a lover, a safe place to land. Not a forever thing, but a perfect interlude.

As the plane carries you back to your life, to the bustle and pressure of the city, you close your eyes and let yourself drift, savoring the last vestiges of this stolen time.

You don't know what the future holds, if your paths will ever cross again. But you know you'll carry a piece of him, of this wild, perfect dreamtime, with you always. A reminder of who you are, of who you can be, when you strip away the masks and expectations.

After all, you muse, smiling to yourself as the clouds engulf you, that's the beauty of a fling. It's fleeting, but it's forever a bright flash of light against the darkness, a memory to hold onto when the real world intrudes.

And as for Chan... well, the Outback will always be there, waiting, if you ever need to find yourself again. And maybe, just maybe, so will he.

With that thought, you chug the rest of your champagne, then let yourself sink into sleep, dreaming of red dirt and strong hands, of laughter and passion beneath a sea of stars, as the miles unspool behind you, carrying you forward, carrying you home.

[z0mbiefrank]

MCR5 Theory: Secretary Gerard is a character called The Widow

I'm unsure if everyone is thinking along the same lines, but I have yet to see anyone talk about it, so I've put together this post with evidence and links. (this will expand on the 9/11 theory. also special shout out to @autistme who made a spreadsheet with all the aus eagles lyrics) MCR performed Eagles at all six Australia shows this tour. At five of them, Gerard was dressed in a grey suit and skirt, commonly referred to as the secretary or office lady by fans.

(📷 Dough Peters) Here's a quick reference table for the things I will be talking about here. (Not necessary to read, I will explain it all)

At Brisbane, the drumheads read "everything under control" followed by "here comes the airplane". The planes have yet to hit the towers, but disaster is imminent. Eagles has evolved a lot over the tour but the Aus dates heard a new consistent change in the first verse.

All along the river bends All along with all my friends Yes, all around the river bends All together with my friends

There is minimal change for Brisbane 2. Notice how gerard is dressed as the secretary and says "my friends".

Next comes Melbourne 1. The drumhead reads "TErrOR". The plane has hit and there is a dramatic change to the first verse.

All night long the widow sends Valentines to bitter friends Yes, all night long the widow sends Valentines to all my friends

This character with friends now has a title, and it is The Widow. She has lost her husband in the attack. Her friends survived and she is sending them letters of love during this terrible time.

Melbourne 2, Gerard breaks the outfit chain. He is wearing jeans and a t-shirt, there is no hint of office wear, he is no longer playing the widow, he is playing himself. The drumhead also seems unrelated to 9/11 "BARK BARK BARK". They sing the same first verse as the previous night with minimal change, except for the last line

Valentines to all her friends

This is the only instance where Gerard does not refer to the friends as "my friends" at all during aus eagles, and it is because they weren't in the skirt suit that night, they were not the widow.

Next comes Sydney. The Widow is back and she's covered in blood! Something awful has happened to her, she's dying. But the drumhead reads "UNKILLAbLe". (This was written by Frank, an extremely powerful thing for him to do considering his accident in Sydney and PTSD. MCR has always used concept albums as a vessel to speak of things the band has been through.) The widow continues to write her letters during eagles despite the blood on her face.

(📷 Jess Gleeson) Sydney 2. The Widow again. She is in the exact same outfit, down to her boots (sports mode), but this time she is not only covered in blood but her eyes are WHITE. She is dead! The drumhead now reads "Unkillables", this is no longer specifically just one, but multiple people. It could be mcr as a band, mcr as individuals, or mcr fans themselves. In the context of a concept album, unkillables can take on a whole new meaning. It brings to mind the supernatural, ghouls, vampires, werewolves. How is it that the widow is dead, yet she is walking on stage right in front of us? Staring at us with blank eyes on the big screen? Is she a ghost, a zombie? I'm not sure. But she is still the widow. Even in death, she is searching for her husband.

(📷 ashymcr , expiiredglitter)

Which leads me to Summertime. The piece of evidence that drove me to write this long-ass post. As we know, it is a love song about Gerard's marital partner. Before they played, Gerard spoke in a breathy and musically haunting voice "I'll find you. I'll find you. come find me." Definitely something a lost and ghostly widow would say. They also bring out a white handkerchief, they do not have it in any other songs. Throughout the performance, Gerard clutched it to their chest repeatedly and held it lovingly in both hands.

In the third picture, he is looking down sadly at the handkerchief singing the line "If you stay, I would even wait all night." (video)

This is very clearly The Widow. She is mourning her husband, she is dead, lost and searching for him. Perhaps the handkerchief is all she has left of him, or it is simply to dry her tears, but she is clearly in mourning for her marital partner.

And finally, Eagles at Sydney 2. The first verse stays the same except for the third line. "Yes, all night long the widow sends" becomes

Yes, all day long the widow sends

She is writing night and day. She does not rest. Her outfits in Sydney are exactly the same. Every single other secretary's outfit is subtlely different, but now she is dead, she is stuck in the same clothing like a ghost. The Widow also makes an appearance later in the song.

We found the widow And hit her with a baseball bat

I have less ideas of what this could be about, but I think if some dead lady was walking about being unkillable, people would get freaked and attack her with a baseball bat. The concept of "unkillables" is something I could write a whole other post about but I'll spare you for now.

To conclude, I think The Widow as a concept album character would fit right in with MCR. They are no strangers to lovers separated by death. Others on here have spoken on how the feminine outfits Gerard has chosen this tour have often been of women scorned or living in the shadows of powerful men. I believe The Widow would fit right in. Even after her husband has died, she is only talked about in reference to him. She is The Widow, something that tells us more about her husband than herself.

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

Unpredictable, Part 4-Limoreau x black!fem!reader fic

A/N: I thought this one was going to be a little shorter but I was wrong. Hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: swearing, sensuality, and Rufus appears in this part.

Word Count: 6.6k

Series Masterlist

Being perpetually early was a good habit until it left me bored and looking up from my phone every few seconds. Of course, it was always a stranger, and we would exchange quick smiles when we made eye contact. However, my nervousness increased each time it wasn’t Jordan.

As I replied to a voice note from Sydney, I wondered why Jordan asked to train with me today. Last year, they basically forced me to train with them all the time after our first match.

“You can’t be one of Brink’s new favorites and be this bad at basic combat,” they’d insisted.

Every match was horrible, and I thought I was going to die each time. Though Jordan never hit me hard, they were still intense, and my heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest at the end. When I passed my Intro to Combat class, Jordan agreed that we didn’t have to train together as much but they still expected me to practice.

I gulped at the thought and sent off the comment.

At least I was in shape.

“Lookin’ good, Y/N,” a deep voice called.

When I glanced up, Chad Mitchell and Thad Browne, the Alpha Tau vice president and treasurer, were walking up the gym steps. A pair of skinny blondes in Lululemon leggings exiting the gym gasped at the two of them. Chad grinned widely, revealing his movie-star smile, and Thad winked at them as they passed. No one could blame any girl for staring at two tall broad-shouldered guys in Gymshark t-shirts, Gymshark shorts, white Nike ankle socks, and Nike sneakers.

Chad pushed his dark blonde hair away from his face while he towered over me.

I straightened up a little. “Oh, thanks, Chad.”

“I never thanked you for warning me about trying to do a backflip during the Get Lei’d party,” Chad said.

“It’s no problem; I’m glad I had a vision about it in time.”

“But it would’ve been awesome if you landed a backflip from the house roof!” Thad interrupted.

Chad glanced at him. “The broken nose and knee would not have been worth it.” He turned back to me, eyes roaming the black Alo Yoga set I wore before making it back to my eyes. “So, was rush a success for Si Chi?”

I swallowed and folded my arms over my chest. “I would say so; Bid Day will be interesting. How about Alpha Tau?”

“We always get the best,” Thad interjected, chuckling.

“Yeah, ours aren’t looking bad. You know, after Bid Day’s over, Alpha Tau and Si Chi should have a mixer; make sure all our recruits get to know each other,” Chad proposed.

He placed his hand on the wall beside me, right next to my head, and leaned closer. The scent of musk was nauseating, and I turned away from him to cover my nose with my jacket.  

“You should reach out to Alina about that; she’s in charge of social events,” I rushed.

Chad nodded but I wasn’t sure he listened. “Yeah, Thad, do that.”

“Cool,” Thad agreed.

“You seem a little jumpy, Y/N. Are you waiting for your boyfriend or something?” Chad asked.

 Last year, Thad and Chad ignored me, opting to hover around Alina and Sasha. I guess my warning impressed Chad at the end of the year Get Lei’d party. Plus, it wasn’t like either of them were bad prospects but each time Chad looked at me, it was like ants were crawling over my skin.

“Sort of.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re too sure. Why don’t you warm up with Thad and me? I’m sure he won’t mind.”

That would be the worst idea since acid-washed jeans. However, Si Chi and Alpha Tau were close houses and one had to maintain the balance between them. Sydney and Lydia always made it look so easy.

“I can’t leave you alone for five minutes?” Jordan’s voice cut through the air as she strolled up the steps, irritation clear on her feminine features.

Suddenly, Chad was about a foot away from me, both hands in front of him for a second before he finally put them back at his sides. Thad looked as though he saw a ghost as he moved to stand next to Chad.

“My bad, Jordan, I didn’t know she was with you,” Chad rambled.

“Yeah, man, we had no idea,” Thad added.

Jordan glared at both as she moved to stand next to me. “You can go away now.”

I never saw them move so quickly and when they were gone, I stared at Jordan. “What was that?”

She shrugged. “They know their place. Were you waiting long?”

“No, they just happened to beat you here. Thanks, by the way.”

“Don’t worry about it. Do you have to see them a lot?”

“Kind of and this is the first time either has been that close to me.”

“I thought frat guys were every sorority girl’s type.”

I scrunched my nose. “Not the stereotypical ones.”

“Oh, I forgot, you’re the pickiest girl I know.”

I huffed and gently pushed her shoulder, but she didn’t miss a step as we walked towards the gym entrance. “Don’t judge me for having standards.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re easy to tease.”

Since Jordan rented out the training space, it was quiet outside of the few grunts and weights clanging in the neighboring weight room. The entire space was reinforced for any power mishaps and the focal point was the blue mat in the middle of the space with a large black ring lining its perimeter. I groaned as Jordan pushed on my back, forcing me closer to the mat and making my inner thighs burn in the splits.

“I thought yoga was supposed to make you flexible,” she quipped.

“I am, but I think you like seeing me in pain,” I replied.

“Never,” she teased. “So…did you get anything else on Emma?”

Her words made me stiffen and I sat up on my forearms and shook my head. “Something’s blocking me. Usually, even when I can’t see clear images, I get blurry images but it’s like something has shut off that part of my brain.”

It was the same issue last night when Jordan, Marie, Andre, Cate, and I went looking for Emma. All I could see was her with that guy I never met. Even though everyone said it was okay, their sulking shoulders and lack of eye contact spoke louder; especially Marie’s.

When I got back to the house last night, I gave myself a migraine trying to find Emma and it took me forever to stop hyperventilating. I could have killed Andre for coming up with the dumbest plan on planet earth.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jordan said, cutting through my thoughts.

She let me sit up and I turned to her.

“I just feel useless. Finding things out is the one thing I’m good at and I can’t even do that?”

“Hey, it’s not the one thing you’re good at. You’re good at dancing, studying, fashion, and helping other people.”

Jordan’s tone was earnest and matter-of-fact; no one could have argued with her and I suddenly felt all fuzzy.

I smiled. “I am the best-dressed on campus.”

“Relax, we’ll find Emma, just focus on what you can do. Like, trying not to get knocked out of bounds four times in a row.”

I scoffed at Jordan but she grinned at me. “Maybe you should take your own advice.”

“Oh, she has an attitude now?”

“Maybe you just bring it out of me.” I pushed myself up to stand. “Usual rules?”

“I won’t use any powers outside of shifting, you can use yours as much as you want, no cheap shots, and the one knocked out of bounds the most loses.”

“I can’t wait to try the new sushi place at the union; Shelby said it’s amazing.”

“You’ll be trying it on your own dime.”

Jordan always got cocky when sparring. Now that Luke was gone, Jordan was the best fighter on campus. Whenever we trained, I tried to use wiping that big smirk off their face as motivation and it never worked. The best I ever managed to do was not break anything.

Jordan’s smirk never left her face as we squared off from each other. I took the deepest breath I could and tried to quiet my mind. Seconds later, my mind filled with the image of Jordan going for a right hook. I blocked her and went for a jab of my own, skimming her left cheek.

“Not bad,” she huffed as she dodged it. “You need to hold your upper body better; anyone could knock you off balance right now.”

Based on a brief flash, I knew that she was either going to sweep me or push me to prove her point. So, when she went to push me, I slipped away from her, maintaining my guard. She blew a piece of hair out of her face.

“What was that about my balance?” I panted.

“Don’t get cocky, freshie, I won’t go so easy on you,” She taunted.

My heart might have skipped a beat as I took a risk based on a vision and rushed her. When I saw she was going to shift, I stopped just short of Jordan’s reach, slipped down, and swept her feet. Just when I was going to make contact, she backflipped, shifted in the middle of the back flip, and landed in a crouch.

His elated expression made the hairs on the back of my neck stand as he stalked towards me. Our sparring match continued with me utilizing my ability as well as I could to get in the best hits. My heart hammered in my chest as I kept up with their ever-changing forms and fighting styles. In between jabs, Jordan continued giving me tips.

“Use your full body weight with each punch.”

“Your right roundhouse has gotten stronger, that’s good.”

“You’re dropping your left elbow too much when you weave.”

I did my best to incorporate all their tips into the sparring match and even got a couple of hits on them. At one point, Jordan and I exchange a flurry of punches and blocks and for the first time, I almost laughed while fighting them.

It was…fun.

I was able to get some distance between us before attempting another roundhouse kick that was guaranteed to make contact with the side of his head. Just as I was about to kick out my left leg, Jordan shifted to their female form and tackled me. Her grip was harsh around my shoulders while mine struggled to hold onto hers because of the sweat. I paused and noticed she was practically drenched and panting over me. A few strands of black hair fell out of her ponytail and stuck to her forehead, and she was still so pretty.

She seemed to pause as well and raised her eyebrows at me. “Focus on the fight.”

Her words stirred something in me, and I focused on what could be my best move.

The image was only a few seconds long but it almost left me catatonic went it ended. If this didn’t work, I had no idea how I would live it down.

Quickly, I leaned up and closed the distance between us.  Jordan’s lips were so soft against mine and I yelped a little when her body pressed more into mine. Her soft breaths felt like whispers over my face as she kissed me back and I squirmed underneath her.

Focus, Y/N, focus! My mind screamed.

As casually as I could, I pushed my wrists against Jordan’s hands, and a second later, she loosened her grip. Her fingers trailed down my arms as my legs wrapped around her waist, pulling her even closer to me. When I felt her smile against my lips, my stomach sunk.

Sorry.

The leverage I had around her waist was useful as my hands grabbed her shoulders and swung her down onto the mat. Jordan gasped as we pulled away and my hands captured her wrists. “What the---”

“I win!” I cheered.

“No, you just pinned me,” Jordan rasped.

I shook my head and gestured to her right hand, which was just over the out-of-bounds line. In the dozens of fights we had, this was the first time that I won. If I could fly, I would have probably been floating. When I looked back at Jordan’s face, I came back to earth.

“Oh, sorry,” I muttered, releasing her wrists and pushing myself to stand. “And I’m sorry about kissing you without warning.”

When I extended my hand, she looked at it as though it was a cobra ready to strike. After a few seconds, Jordan took the risk and let me help her up. Then, she walked back over to her bag, grabbed her water bottle, and chugged.

“It’s okay, uh, just don’t make out with everyone you fight with; that’s how you catch mono,” Jordan rambled.

I wrinkled my nose. “Ew, I wouldn’t even think about it. With us, I knew it would be my best way to beat you.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Then, I took a second to look at Jordan. Something was off, she seemed tenser than she usually did after we sparred. Also, she stopped looking at me and started playing with the rings on her fingers. It had to be because of the stress of Emma missing and how there was more lurking on campus than anyone thought. That on top of Brink and Luke’s deaths would make anyone nervous.

Yes, that had to be it because those were the reasons my lips buzzed the entirety of the next training round.

The two extra rounds gave Jordan their bragging rights and no one could wipe the giant smile off her face as we wandered around campus. At the very least, the blazing sun provided some comfort from the cool breeze that blew past us. Since there were several classes in session, only a handful of people were hanging out, panic-studying, and Tik-Toking.

“You should have seen your face when you landed, it was gold!” she laughed.

“I’m glad it was entertaining,” I replied.

Jordan glanced at me, fished a protein bar out of her gym bag, and handed it to me. “Here.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

Jordan paused in her walk to side eye me and I stopped as well. “Don’t give me that shit. I didn’t say anything earlier but, you look awful.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

Jordan sighed. “That came out wrong; I mean, you look like you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

The situation was almost laughably ironic since just a couple of days ago, I was sleeping like a baby. However, the Emma-shaped hole was enough to spike my anxiety and the final touches on Bid Day were not helpful either. If Alina tried to deny my top pick at this last meeting…

Oh no, I had totally forgotten to take my meds.

“It’s okay, you actually have perfect timing,” I replied, accepting the protein bar.

It wasn’t super chalky and even if it was, I didn’t care as I popped two of the pills from Shetty and chased it with water.

“You pop pills in public now, freshie?” Jordan joked.

I shook my head and nibbled on the protein bar. “They’re prescribed by Shetty. That explains why I was freaking out earlier.”

“With Dumb and Dumber?”

“Chad and Thad, and yes.” Jordan nodded. “So, they work?”

“Yeah. I probably would have been able to save you the trouble if I’d remembered.”

I put the pill bottle back in my bag as we continued walking. The medicine would take a while to kick in but it was better late than never.

“It wasn’t trouble,” Jordan said.

I didn’t know how to respond so all I could do was nod. In all honesty, I was still processing that kiss. Jordan must have reacted the way she did because she was so caught off guard. If Emma were here, she would help me process, that is if she was willing to speak to me.

“So, do you want me to buy you lunch today or tomorrow?” I asked.

Jordan shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey, I’m a good sport and I always hold up my end,” I tried to joke.

“Yeah, so it makes sense that I would do the mature thing and treat you to that sushi place you were talking about. You beat me for the first time and that shows how much you improved; I remember when you used to drop your guard every time you got scared.”

“It’s not my fault that my first instinct is to run!”

“You won’t always have the chance to run when you’re a supe. Now, I feel better about you being out there on your own.”

Her words made me swell with pride and I thanked her.

“Plus, there’s no one out there as good as me.” I playfully rolled my eyes. “Of course, it all goes back to you.”

“I’m being honest. Seriously, wherever you get a contract, you’ll kick ass especially if you practice more.”

“Fine, Mx. Li.”

At that moment, I couldn’t wait to go back to the house and shower. Class wasn’t for another hour and a half which gave me enough time to try and process everything.

“Is that Marie?” Jordan asked.

I paused and looked in the direction she nodded to. Across the way, Marie slowly approached the bleach-blonde weasel that was Rufus, who was smugly perched on an overpriced bench. He was (fake) reading a book and looking semi-thoughtful.

The protein bar suddenly felt like a rock in my throat.

“What’s she doing with Rufus?” I muttered.

Jordan didn’t reply and we both watched as the two started speaking. Then, Rufus set his book aside and reached his hands out to Marie.

“Shit!” Jordan exclaimed.

“Marie!” I called at the same time.

It was too late, as soon as her hands grazed his, they disappeared. Panic started rising up from the back of my neck and everything was suddenly quiet.

“Y/N!”

When I blinked, Jordan’s hands cupped my face, and our faces were nearly touching.

“Focus, where did Rufus take Marie?”

After taking a couple of seconds to focus on it, I answered Jordan, and she nearly yanked my arm out of its socket as she raced towards the location. A minute later, we were pushing past people in the dorm until we reached Rufus’ room. My stomach lurched at the muffled sounds of “True”.

“So, what’s the plan?” I asked.

Jordan didn’t respond. Instead, she took one step before kicking Rufus’ door down. The sound of the door hitting the ground should have made me jump but I was too busy staring at Marie’s blood-splattered face as she stared down at Rufus’ keeled over body on the floor. When he rolled onto his back, I saw all the blood covering his groin and the agony on his face.

Somehow, it was both disgusting and exhilarating to watch, kind of like those ridiculous mukbang videos.

I didn’t realize I was staring until Jordan tugged me by the arm down the hallway, Marie in tow. When we got a few hundred feet away, Jordan released us and glared daggers at Marie.

“What the hell was that?” Jordan demanded.

“I don’t know…I just exploded his dick,” Marie uttered, astonished.

“That was…wow,” I breathed.

Marie smiled, accepted the towel Jordan handed her, and wiped her face. “Thanks, I didn’t know I could do that.”

“Why were you talking to Rufus anyway? He’s a creep,” Jordan scolded.

Marie narrowed her eyes at Jordan. “We didn’t have any leads on Emma, and I heard he was a psychic.”

I winced at the jab.

Jordan rolled her eyes. “Rufus is not a psychic; he’s a perverted loser who takes advantage of anything with tits.”

“Gee, thanks,” Marie hissed. “I can take care of myself.”

She shoved the towel in Jordan’s chest and started storming down the hall. Immediately, we started following her and my irritation grew with each step.

“Fine, then I won’t rescue you next time,” Jordan called.

That made her stop and whirl around. “What?”

“I saved you back there, well, Y/N and I both did since she knew where Rufus would take you,” Jordan insisted.

Marie took a step towards us. “I exploded his dick; I didn’t need your help.”

“But I provided a distraction; tag-team cocksplosion here,” Jordan said, gesturing between the two.

“I’m okay being cut from this team,” I commented.

“Oh no, you’re in it too,” Jordan said.

Marie shook her head. “Weirdo.”

Jordan shrugged. “More importantly, Tek Knight is on campus and he’s doing a story on Luke’s death.”

Marie’s eyes widened and I had to stop my mouth from falling open. Tek Knight was the slimiest, most prolific true crime “journalist” on Vought TV. He covered only the buzziest stories, and it made sense he would be on campus. I thought I heard some guys talking about it during a lecture yesterday, but I was so preoccupied that I didn’t focus.

“He’s guest lecturing Shetty’s class today and he’s going to want to talk to you,” Jordan stated.

“Shit,” Marie cursed.

I ran my hands through the ends of my braids. “And if he even gets a hint of what might be going on, we could all be screwed.”

“So, what do we do?” Marie asked.

“If you decide to keep up the lie, don’t let him see you waver, he loves going after that shit,” Jordan grumbled.

Marie rolled her eyes. “Are we on this again?”

“Yeah, you lied!” Jordan snapped.

Quickly, I stepped between them. “Okay, this won’t get us anywhere. Just breathe for a second.”

They both did, eyes still shooting lasers.

“We need to think about this. Since you two are in Shetty’s class, you two will have to figure something out.”

“Are you taking her side?” Jordan accused.

“Are you taking theirs?” Marie asked.

“I’m not taking anyone’s,” I insisted. “If you two keep fighting, no one wins. Just go your separate ways for now and regroup before class?”

It was not my best work but they both seemed to agree as Jordan went one way and Marie started to head down the other. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding and jogged to catch up to Marie.

“Hey!”

She slowed down a little but didn’t face me. “I’m not sorry for trying to find Emma.”

“And that’s great but you should talk to the rest of us before getting mixed up with someone like him.” I shivered at the thought.

Then, she turned to me. “Like I said, we had no leads.”

“I know that, and I am working on it, trust me, I am but I can’t believe you went with Rufus the Rapist instead of giving me time.”

“We don’t have any, Y/N!” Marie snapped. “She could be hanging on by a thread somewhere or dead but we don’t know anything and now I have this Tek Knight shit to worry about.”

I flinched. “I told you, she’s alive and I know you’re scared but I’m scared too. Emma is my best friend and not being able to figure out where she is has been driving me crazy.” Tears began burning in my eyes.

Marie hesitated and looked down for a moment. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, it just sucks that the last time we talked, we fought. I didn’t even get to talk to her at the gala,” I admitted.

“Yeah,” Marie looked back up at me, “I saw you were talking to a lot of people.”

“I kind of had to.”

“With Jordan?”

I cocked my head at her and she stared at me. “Wait, what?”

She sort of pouted. “I saw you were spending a lot of time with them.”

“We were schmoozing for their ranking,” I explained.

“Oh.”

I didn’t need a vision to tell me that she wanted to say more. What was going on with everyone today?

“Next time, I could help you do it, I mean, I don’t think you’ll need my help with Vought liking you,” I thought out loud.

“Don’t remind me.” Marie leaned against the wall. “I don’t know what to do! I’m so deep in this shit that there’s no crawling out.”

She slowly slid down until she sat on the ground, and I sat across from her.

“It might seem like that but, there is a way out, you probably just won’t like it.”

Marie’s eyes flickered up at me. “Are you siding with Jordan?”

“No! What is it with you two? It’s like a live X beef and I’m somehow in the middle!” I exclaimed. “No, I’m not on anyone’s side, I can see both your sides clearly: you want to get ahead and this a great chance to do it and Jordan feels like they saved you only to have you trample all over them.”

Marie frowned at my words. “They would have done the same thing!”

“I don’t know…” I don’t know anything anymore.

I pushed myself to stand. “It’s your choice, Marie.”

“What would you do?” she whispered.

“Honestly, I have no clue but I would probably talk to Cate about it.” I pulled her to her feet. “By the way, that cocksplosion was so awesome.”

Marie smiled. “Like I said, it just happened out of nowhere.”

“I knew he had some bad karma coming his way, but I didn’t think you’d deliver it.”

Then, she hugged me and I felt stunned. She smelled like cinnamon and something earthy that I couldn’t put my finger on. I had no idea that she had such a strong grip, it was kind of comforting. I slowly hugged her back and when she pulled away, she gasped.

“I got blood on you, I’m so sorry,” Marie apologized.

“It’s okay, no one should be able to tell unless they have a luminol ability,” I pointed out.

She nodded and as I made way out of the dorm, my curiosity got the better of me, and I focused on how the lecture would go. Unfortunately, all I saw was a brief scene of Jordan and Marie speaking in Marie’s dorm. They weren’t fighting so that must be positive.

Two hours later, I was sitting in one of the beach chairs out by the Si Chi pool, fuming. Sasha thought she was so slick, trying to persuade Sydney to let Justine in despite all the issues. She could have at least come up with a decent argument; the fact that she hadn’t even tried was almost the most insulting part.

I just happened to catch the two of them speaking on the staircase when I returned from my advanced modern dance class. Sydney politely nodded as Sasha spoke.

“…and she’s the best in her class!” Sasha finished.

“That’s great, but I don’t want anyone who uses someone else’s triggers for their own gain representing this house,” Sydney replied firmly.

“But----”

“Sydney, how’s the selection process going?” I called.

They both turned to me and Sasha lost some color in her face.

“Good, we’ve narrowed it down and we’ll finalize it tonight,” Sydney said.

That should have been satisfying but it wasn’t. Who did Sasha think she was? She could be antagonistic but she never outright bullied anyone. Does she want Justine to be a protégé?

“Y/N,” someone whispered.

I jumped in my seat and glanced around the pruned backyard. No one else was out with the other girls either heading to another class or studying. It must have been my imagination.

“Y/N!”

That time it was louder, and I slowly stood. “This isn’t funny, whoever’s out there!”

This day really was turning into too much. First, I kissed Jordan----which I still hadn’t unpacked----, second, Rufus got castrated in the most violent way possible, and third, I was hearing voices or being stalked.

Slowly, I started creeping back towards the house. Maybe it was time for a nap since sleep deprivation could drive anyone crazy. Maybe that would help me find Emma.

“Y/N, it’s me!”

And now the voices sounded like her.

“Over here!”

Something told me that I wouldn’t end up like every non-final white girl in a horror movie. So, I started walking in the direction of the voice, which just happened to be in the thick wall of shrubs that lined the perimeter.

“Where is here?” I whispered.

Then, a hand reached out from some shrubs on the right side. Carefully, I approached it and knelt down, still keeping my distance. Then, a head of curly blonde hair poked its way out of the shrubs, pieces of greenery attached to its scalp.

“Emma!” I rasped.

“Hey, do you mind being surprised after you help me out of here?” she asked.

As soon as I got her out, I hugged her. I was right, she was alive this whole time. I almost cried tears of joy as I slowly pulled away from her.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so happy to see you!”

“I’m happy to see you two but we’re both in trouble if someone catches us like this,” Emma said.

As quickly as I could, I snuck her up into my room and she collapsed on the bed as soon as I closed the door. With the better look at her, I noticed she was in a random black movie theater t-shirt, shorts, and she only had one shoe. She wasn’t too dirty but I tried not to think about having to wash my comforter once she left.

“Emma, where have you been? What’s going on?”I asked.

“Well, Andre sent me on a mission to find Luke’s brother,” Emma started.

“I know that much; is that the guy you were with?”

Emma shot up to a sitting position. “You saw us?”

“Sort of. I had no idea where you were going, why?”

“No reason, I don’t know why I was surprised, you see everything.”

Even though I didn’t, I let Emma continue. As she spoke, my eyes got wider and wider. There was so much to unpack: there was a research lab under the school called The Woods where they tested supes, the researchers faked Sam’s, Luke’s brother, death but kept him in The Woods, and they are working on something big.

“What is it?” I asked.

Emma shrugged. “Sam has no idea but he knows that the doctors have been working on it for a while and they’re almost done.”

I nodded. “Okay, where is he now?”

“In an abandoned theater. It sounds creepy but the stale snacks and ambiance make it kind of cute,” she chirped.

I shook my head. “You like him.”

Emma gasped, “What? I do not!”

“He’s your type: cute and a little messed up.” “I don’t have a type and even if I did, you might’ve been close to it,” she muttered.

I smiled and hugged her again. “It’s so good to see you again. I don’t know what I would have done if…”

“Hey, like someone could kill me.” Emma tried to keep her tone lighter, but I could tell she was scared.

When I pulled away, I apologized for everything that happened before the gala. I wasn’t that good of a friend and Emma did everything she could for me, even when she didn’t have to.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have projected and called you perfect; I know that everything with your parents has been rough for you and you’re managing it as well as you can. Plus, I hid the whole how I get small thing from you,” Emma rambled.

“Why’d you hide it from me? You can tell me anything, that’s what best friends do,” I whispered.

Emma looked down at her hands. “Because I knew it would make us both feel like shit. You had other stuff going on and I didn’t want to be a burden. I’m the one who cheers you up and I was ashamed.”

“You’re allowed to feel bad sometimes, Emma, but it really hurt knowing you felt like you couldn’t reach out to me for help,” I managed, feeling myself starting to choke up.

“Don’t cry because if you cry, then I’ll cry.” She hugged me again and we both sniffled. “Okay, from now on, we tell each other everything.”

“Agreed.”

When Emma pulled away, she had the most mischievous grin on her face paired with a fake nonchalant look in her eye. I immediately eyed her as she crossed her legs and started glancing around the room.

“So, to go off that, what’s going on with you and Jordan?” she asked.

“Are you kidding me? You come back from disappearing and that’s the first thing you want to know?”

“I could have died, Y/N.”

“Do not try to guilt me!”

I took a deep breath and mulled it over for a moment. A couple of hours ago, I would have killed for this chance to talk to Emma and now that it was here, I was stopping myself. There shouldn’t be anything stopping me, especially since we just promised each other that we wouldn’t keep anymore secrets. With that thought, I told her everything, from the night at the club, to when we kind of rescued Marie.

When I looked at her, Emma was stunned.

“What?” was all she could muster.

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s a lot.”

“You went from almost kissing Jordan to full-on kissing Jordan. I could tell you liked them by the way you talked about them last year but this is progress,” Emma remarked.

“I didn’t like them like that last year, I don’t now. Anyway, I only did it after I saw the vision and it was to win the fight, so does that really count?” I asked.

Emma raised her eyebrows. “Did you feel anything on the other side of that kiss?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, did you feel them kissing you back? Were they breathing all heavy? Were their hands moving all over your body?”

All those things happened but, Jordan must have been caught up in the moment.

“If Jordan was caught up, they would have snapped out of it but they didn’t until you pulled away,” Emma pointed out.

“I did it as a distraction tactic!”

“Doesn’t matter since they liked it,” Emma said with a shrug. “And you must have enjoyed it.”

“How would you know?”

“Because the tip of your nose is turning red.”

I yelped and covered my nose. “It’s because this conversation is embarrassing. Besides, I don’t have time for a relationship; I have to finish out rush week and then there’s initiation and not to mention classes---” Emma placed her hands on my shoulders and forced me to look at her. “Y/N, ‘having time’ has nothing to do with liking someone. You’ve had googly eyes for Jordan for a year now, it’s okay to admit it!”

“I have not! They bullied me for half of last year.”

“Really? Did they ever say anything super mean to you or try to hurt you?”

As I took a second to think about my dynamic with Jordan, I realized that they only delivered playful jabs that I returned when I got comfortable around them. So, I shook my head.

“And aren’t they always trying to keep you out of trouble?”

“Not always,” I muttered.

Emma groaned. “Why did I think it would be easy to get you to admit that you like someone? You’re so oblivious.”

“I am not!”

“Really? So, how would you describe your relationship with Marie?”

“Friends.”

“Really? Because when you were doing her makeup that night, I thought you got lost in her eyes. Those big, beautiful, puppy dog eyes.”

I playfully pushed her but she maintained her pose and I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped me. Even though her words were lighthearted, I had paused a few times that night to admire Marie but she was pretty, everyone admired pretty.

“I was trying to do a good job with her eyeshadow. Besides, I thought you were still insisting I like Jordan,” I responded.

Emma relaxed and stared at me like I grew a second head. “You are way deeper in denial than I thought you were.” “What are you talking about?”

“I know that sexuality is a spectrum and a journey and everything but, Y/N, you clearly like two people.”

Her words hung in the air as I returned her stare. Emma had lost it, officially.

There was no way I liked both Marie and Jordan. Marie relaxed me as soon as I saw her and friends are supposed to be relaxed with friends. I felt like I could tell her anything and any friend would feel bad about accidentally ditching their friend on a night out. Also, any friend would feel like crying if their friend told them that they accidentally killed their parents. Any friend would want to try to make them feel better since they couldn’t take away the pain.

And as far as Jordan went, I was well aware of how attractive they were in both forms and occasionally felt warm inside when they smiled at me, but those were just hormones. Plus, Jordan was a protective person so it made sense that they would jump in when necessary. The shivers I’d attempted to hide when they pulled me onto their lap were normal.

“No, that doesn’t make any sense,” I muttered.

“I can only help you so much. It’s clear to me and maybe even to Jordan and Marie.”

I shook my head. “We don’t have time for this. We should find Marie and let her know that you’re alive and everything you told me.” “Okay, and if she just happens to give you a thank-you kiss, I’ll try not to gloat.”

“Emma,” I warned.

“Okay, can I borrow some shoes before we leave?”

Emma practically bounced with each step on the way to her dorm. Even though I convinced her to wear one of my hoodies just in case, she seemed happy to be back on campus. Hopefully, we could get everyone together and get this all figured out. Once this was over, then I would be able to focus on Bid Day and maybe what Emma had been saying.

It was going to be so awkward talking to Marie after that conversation. I felt so many things that I didn’t know what to settle on: confusion, frustration, anxiety, and all the others I couldn’t name.

The meds must have kicked in as Emma began trying to unlock her door. I was settled and comfortable. Everything was going to be fine.

Finally, Emma threw open her door. “Holy shit, so much is happening!” she announced as she stormed into her room.

I trailed after her and felt my anxiety break free from its cage. Jordan had Marie pinned against the wall, kissing her like it was his last chance. Marie seemed equally as passionate as she tugged on his shirt. At Emma’s words, they jumped away from each other, both frazzled and disheveled, eyes wide.

Then a flood of more emotions I couldn’t name washed over me.

[hannahmanderr]

Supernova - Prologue

Read on AO3

Summary: The Ghost Zone is tearing itself apart. The instability threatens the future of both Earth and the Infinite Realms. Danny isn't exactly thrilled that for some reason, the responsibility to restore balance falls on him. And he's definitely not thrilled at the prospect of having to use the Ring and the Crown to do so. (Ghost King AU)

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Contrary to popular belief, the Infinite Realms do have a center. Not a physical center, to say, but a center nonetheless.

It is from this center that a shudder rippled across the Realms.

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Of all the ghosts to notice the shudder, Sydney Poindexter was the first.

“Wowza!” He shook out his head and his shoulders. “That meatloaf just goes right through ya, huh?”

He didn’t notice how the ectoplasmic construct of Casper High and its students flickered violently for the briefest of moments.

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Skulker grinned as the pegasus he had his sights set on inched closer to the trap he’d laid out. “That’s it, just a little more,” he said, not daring to speak above a whisper. He’d been hunting this particular pegasus for nearly three weeks now, and each time he’d gotten close, it’d slipped out of his grasp.

Today would be different.

The pegasus’ nose flared as it sniffed the fiery flowers he’d set up as a food bait. He tensed in anticipation. So close now, just a couple feet further…

The shudder tore through the Badlands.

Skulker, caught off-guard, stumbled backwards as it passed through him. The pegasus whinnied in fear and bolted away.

For a moment, he could only sit there in stunned silence, not even caring that he’d just lost his quarry again. “What in blazes…?”

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A yeti barreled into Frostbite’s cave, gasping his name. 

Frostbite was already standing. “Gruefang,” he said. “I take it you felt it as well?”

“Yes, Chief,” Gruefang nodded. “Even the young felt it, and you know their bodies are not as in tune with the environment.”

The look on Frostbite’s face was grave, completely unlike his ironically warm demeanor. “Then it may be worse than I feared.”

In three quick strides, he crossed the cavern and opened a chest to pull out two scrolls. One was small and blank; the other was much larger, much more weathered, and detailed on both sides with drawings of islands, doors, portals, and other landmarks.

“The Infi-Map?” Gruefang asked, peering over Frostbite’s shoulder. “What do you intend to do with it?”

“Summon Fleetfloe,” Frostbite instructed. He unrolled the blank scroll and began to write on it with a claw dipped in ink. “Tell her I need her to carry a message to the Acropolis of Asphodel for me.”

“Of course, Chief. What is the message?”

Frostbite hastily finished scrawling his written message on the scroll, then rolled it back up and fastened it shut with a seal of ice. “This should have the relevant details,” he said, handing both it and the Infi-Map to Gruefang. “She should seek out the Lady Pandora and tell her… tell her I must know if Kilaris grows unstable. If it is as I suspect, then we cannot delay action any longer.”

Gruefang’s beady eyes grew wide. “Kilaris?” he whispered, as though saying the name any louder would cause it to shatter. “Are you certain?”

“... unfortunately so.” If possible, a heavier weight seemed to fall over Frostbite’s shoulders. “Go quickly. There is no time to waste.

“And… pray that I am wrong,” he added quietly as Gruefang sprinted out of the cave.

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Clockwork’s tower was not immune to the shudder, either. The hundreds of clocks spread across Long Now each stumbled over a few misplaced seconds as the shudder washed over them. 

If Clockwork himself felt it pass through him, though, he did not show it. He simply kept his gaze fixed resolutely on the time window in front of him, showing Fleetfloe rapidly approaching the Acropolis. A sigh escaped him and echoed into the chorus of clocks that had resumed their ticking.

Everything was as it should be.

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Vlad massaged his temple as he stormed into his City Hall office. The meeting with the head of the city council had been just as insufferable as he’d predicted - as these meetings always were.

Bureaucracy and its silly complexities. If he could, he’d choose to run Amity Park the same way he ran his businesses, with him as the ultimate decision maker. Things would just be so much simpler. 

He collapsed into his desk chair with a dramatic flourish. Barely 10:30 in the morning and he was already nursing a migraine. Splendid. 

Perhaps a pick-me-up was in order.

He rummaged in his desk - quite literally in his desk, he phased a hand into a hollowed out compartment he’d personally installed - and pulled out a silver flask. He popped off the cap and took a deep inhale of the green vapor that drifted out of the top. Yes, this blend of ectoplasmic supplements would work nicely to stimulate his ghost half’s healing.

He raised the flask in a sardonic toast to no one in particular. “Another day, yet another problem to solve,” he said in his driest voice.

He’d no sooner than put the flask to his lips when the shudder passed through him.

Acidic green liquid stained the rug as the flask fell from his grasp. The feeling that flooded Vlad took him back over twenty years, to before he’d even had his accident, when he and Jack had woken up with strong hangovers after crashing a party. His sudden nausea and the cloudiness in his head so strongly reminded him of that memory that he wondered briefly if he’d consumed too much wine at last night’s dinner party (an inane thought; his hybrid metabolism quite literally burned through alcohol).

The feeling only lasted for a few seconds before disappearing without a trace.

“Mayor Masters!” the secretary cried as she burst into the office. Vlad hurriedly nudged his overcoat off the back of his chair and kicked it into a heap over the stain of ectoplasm on the rug. “I heard a noise, are you alright?”

“Just fine, Marta,” he said through a thin smile. “I only dropped my phone.”

Her forehead crinkled. “I could’ve sworn I heard someone shouting in here.”

“Mm, no? It’s just me in here.”

“Huh.” Marta did not seem completely satisfied with this answer, but she turned to leave anyway. “Alright, well… just let me know before you head out to that lunch interview. I’ll need to give you those files.” She walked away shaking her head muttering to herself.

It wasn’t until the door clicked into place that Vlad relaxed, but only marginally. There was no telling what that feeling had truly been, and he did not like not knowing things.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. There was one thing he knew for certain. 

Whatever it had been, it had most definitely been ghost related, and he suspected he knew exactly what had caused it. Still, there was one person he probably needed to talk to in order to confirm his suspicions.

He pulled his personal cell phone out of his pocket and thumbed through his contacts. It didn’t take long to find the one he was looking for.

“... Ah, Jack! I’m so glad you picked up, I wanted to ask you something…”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The epicenter of the shudder and the center of the Infinite Realms, as it turns out, was located within a crumbling castle with nothing around it as far as the eye could see. 

Of course, the force of the shudder shook the castle. Not with any sort of violence, but just enough to knock a few pieces of stone rubble from the walls. One of those pieces of stone fell from the ceiling of the throne chamber. 

It fell and struck a coffin leaning against the throne.

A crack emerged.

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“You’re so full of it. The Cruiser Gravity Rifle is a million times better at beating Sollix than the Titanium Crossbow.” 

Sam scoffed at Tucker’s claim. “Please. How long have you been playing DOOMED again? The Cruiser Gravity Rifle is so not worth the recharge cycle it goes through. You can get way more consistent damage with the Titanium Crossbow.”

“What do you mean it’s not worth the recharge cycle?” Tucker protested. “At least you can get off more than one shot before you have to reload!”

“You also realize Sollix is, like, the lowest level troll boss in the whole game, right? You don’t even need a heavy-hitter to beat him. I bet there’s even a melee weapon that works well with him.”

“That’s what I did,” Danny chimed in. “The Blood-Forged Silver Shortsword worked pretty well for me.”

“That doesn’t count, ‘cause you phased back into the game to avoid having to deal with the crappy melee mechanics,” Tucker said. He flopped onto the grass unceremoniously. “Say what you want, but at least I’m not a cheater.”

“Hey!” Danny let go of Sam’s sneaker long enough to smack Tucker. “It’s not cheating if it’s a game mechanic.”

“Okay, but is it a game mechanic?” Sam grunted. She couldn’t stand doing crunches and pushups and such. Cardio was definitely more her speed.

Danny shrugged. “It’s not a bug and they haven’t patched it, so I’d call it a game mechanic.”

“Dude, you can’t exactly patch out ghosts overshadowing the game.”

A shrill whistle echoed across the field. “Alright! That’s time!” Coach Tetslaff hollered from her spot on the sideline. “Fill in your sheet and rotate partners.”

Sam rolled off of the mat and laid spread-eagle on the grass. Yeah, she’d be feeling that in the morning. Just like her to try and show off in gym class. “How many, D?”

“83. Showoff.” He set the worksheet down and climbed onto the mat. “C’mon, Tuck, you’re holding for me.”

Tucker groaned dramatically, but got up onto his knees anyway. “Just so you know,” he said, giving Danny a pointed look, “I’m only doing this ‘cause I’m hot and you’re a walking AC unit.”

“Also ‘cause your mom said she’d have your head if your gym grade doesn’t get any better. Not to mention Tetslaff will ream you if you don’t. She’s still mad at you for that stunt you tried to pull last week,” Sam added helpfully, cheeky grin and all.

Tucker’s glare turned to her. “How was I supposed to know she’d actually call the fake number and check?”

Danny folded his arms behind his head. “Probably ‘cause she was suspicious in the first place. I mean, the crutches were a little much for a sprained ankle.”

“Mom’s a nurse, she’s given crutches to plenty of -”

Another short whistle sounded. “Come on, hustle!” Tetslaff called. “You all ready? Then get goin’! Two minutes!”

With a grunt, Danny started doing his crunches. Sam watched with mild interest. Sure, last year’s Presidential Fitness Exam hadn’t gone the best for him, but he could pull through when need be. And there was no denying his ghost powers offered him a bit of an advantage, even if it didn’t totally show while in human form. He’d knocked the self-defense unit out of the park, after all.

“I was saying that Mom’s given crutches to people with sprained ankles before,” Tucker said. 

“Yeah? And how many is that?” Sam figured she didn’t need to know the exact number to know the answer.

His face flushed red. “I don’t - well, you know… she can’t tell me ‘cause of hippo,” he said, finishing with a smug smile. The uncertainty behind his eyes was way too obvious, though.

Sam gave him a look of disbelief. “Are you for real? Your mom is a nurse and you don’t even know it’s called HIPAA?”

“... Hippo, HIPAA, to-may-to, to-mah-to. Besides, I -” he cut off abruptly and looked down with a frown. “Uh, Danny? You okay dude?”

Sam glanced over to see Danny had stopped his crunches and was now sitting up with his hands held tightly over his sternum. All the color had drained from his face, and there was a noticeable drop in the temperature. 

Immediately, her internal alarms started blaring. She bolted upright. “Is it your ghost sense?” she asked, but she again suspected she knew the answer.

His mouth opened and closed a few times. “I don’t… I…” His brows furrowed, and he stared fixedly at Tucker’s chest, though his gaze was unfocused and glassy. “I… think something - something’s…”

Tucker reached for Danny’s water bottle. “Do you need your - oh, what the f-”

Green liquid funneled out of the top of the water bottle and slowly drifted aimlessly around Danny in little tendrils. Sam watched with wide eyes. Sure, she’d seen a lot of weird stuff since Danny had become half-ghost (a lot of weird stuff), but ectoplasm… It had never done this around him before.

Danny didn’t even seem to notice. He just continued to stare at the same spot, even as his eyes began to burn Phantom green. 

Then, just as suddenly as it had escalated, the floating ectoplasm stopped and fell to the ground, splashing all over the mat and the grass.

Before Sam could react, Danny leaned over and promptly threw up.

[fictionalmenmakemecry]

Fuckin' with the Ecosystem- Chapter 5

Characters: Carmy Berzatto x reader, Richie, Sugar, Sydney

Summary: The tension between you and Carmy has made work a little more uncomfortable, since the last time you saw him, he was running out your door. With the renovation of 'The Bear' on its way, the challenges start building up. This leads to a hospital visit and you meeting someone from Carmy's past.

Warnings: Blood (If any way squeamish), Fluff, Angst, Cursing, Mold

A/n: Things are getting ssppiicyy! This chapter is starting to get to the knit and grit of it. I hope you guys are ready for it. Thank you for all the support. I've had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Please, please let me know what you think! I want to know if you're enjoying it or not. It's a long one, so get a hot beverage and buckle up!

If you haven't read, here's: Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 3 and Chapter 4

Enjoy!

You woke up in your apartment, and your eyes getting forced into focus and landing on the stale Chinese that was left on your floor. The memories from the past night flooded your brain. Your first night in Chicago and a memorable one, not for a good reason.

You pulled yourself off the mattress of the floor and went to the bathroom dreary eyed. You took the next five minutes to figure out how the shower worked before hopping in.

"Why can't we just paint around'em'?" Richie voice carried as Carmy entered the back door.

"I wanna do this right. You're being lazy", Fak said back.

Carmy walked up to see Richie, Fak, and Marcus near the lockers.

"Ayyy Cousin, your back" Richie brought his hands up grinning.

"How did it go?" Marcus asked, leaning up against the wall.

"Yeah- fine..." Carmy hummed, scratching his neck.

"Is she coming in?" Richie asked, messing with a paint scrapper.

Carmy paused, his mind lagging behind the rest of him.

Richie glanced over to Marcus with furrowed eyebrows and Marcus shrugged his shoulders. Both of them aware of the mess, which was Carmy, in front of them.

"Oh.. uh.. yeah, maybe, " He mumbled, walking away.

"Um.. okay then, "

"I'm telling you, it's not gonna take that long. Don't make me get mom," Fak brought Richie's attention back

"The fuck you are" He snapped.

"Watch me" Fak threatened leaning into Richie

"I dare you," Richie warned, towering over his short stature.

"Mom... mom.." Fak said quietly, pushing Richie's buttons.

"Do it." Richie spat back.

Marcus stood between them, watching them argue. He decided to take matters into his own hands and start unscrewing the bracket off one of the lockers.

Carmy knocked on the opened door of the office. Sugar's head popped up with a smile on her face.

"Hey," She spoke softly.

Carmy nodded.

"Where Syd?" He asked, looking down the hallway.

"She's not in today. She's gone to talk to some old colleagues about the new menu" Sugar clicked the pen in her hand a couple of times.

"Oh, right- yeah... I remember her telling me somethin' about that, " He uttered, thinking back.

"You alright? You seem....off. " Sugar looked at Carmy worriedly.

Sugar was always tuned into Carmy. As the years passed growing up together, Carmy was always cold and distant. Never wanted much attention from anyone. Sugar had this innate behavior to pick up whatever subtle mood Carmy was in. Whether he wanted to show it or not.

"Uhh.. yeah, just a rough couple of days.."

"Wha-"

"MOMM" Fak voice traveled immediately, breaking Sugar's train of thought.

She got up from the chair and sighed, making her way out to the sound of bittering between Richie and Fak.

Carmy took the place of Sugar. He rubbed his hands over his face, wanting this day to be already over.

He brought out his phone and looked over your old texts. Should he text you good morning ? Or maybe sorry, sorry for dipping like an ass.

He didn't want you to think that he was coming on to you just to sleep with you. He was so worried that you would think he's just another asshole guy thinking with his dick. Once he left, he realized that's what you probably thought of him. He wanted to tell you how much you meant to him. That the feelings bubbling up inside of him were getting out of control and he didn't know how to handle it. The only thing he was certain of now, was that he needed to ignore them and focus on the restaurant.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment. He locked his phone and tossed it on the desk.

He leaned over, letting his head hang, still feeling exhausted. At this point, he wanted to forget about last night. He had too much shit going on right now. He couldn't buckle. Especially with everything going to plan, this was a critical time. Last night was a mistake. He was tired, and emotions were high. He needed space from you. He needed to reset himself.

"Good to have you here in one piece, sweetheart." Carmy heard Richie call out.

He could feel his heart thump knowing that you were in.

Fuck.

He continued to sit there listening to the conversations you were having with everyone. He was trying to grasp your mood. His leg started to jitter.

"I'm just glad that I'm here so the real work can start," you chuckled.

"Ooh you little bitch" Richie grinned crossing his arms.

"Is Carmy in?" You asked in a more serious tone.

"Office," Sugar hummed, making you look behind, not noticing her before.

You turned with open arms and hugged each other. Even though you haven't been in the last few weeks, you've gotten close to Sugar with being on the phone so much. She seemed to be always available when you needed her even with the chaos she was dealing with here.. You appreciated that, with the stress of moving.

"Hi," you smiled.

"I've gotta check out your new apartment sometime?" Sugar asked looking into your eyes, pulling away from the hug.

"Definitely, thanks again"

You made your way to the office hearing a cluster of voices start again from the locker situation.

You took a deep breath, wanting to just get past this. You walked up to the doorway, feeling your hands clam up.

Carmy was sitting in the chair scrolling through his phone.

"Hi...." You smiled weakly, not wanting your voice to sound shaky.

"Hey." He bluntly said, continuing to scroll.

"I just want to talk about last ni-"

"No need. I fucked up. Don't worry about it." He looked up finally, his lips pressed and eyes cold.

You were caught off guard with his bluntness.

"Oh, well.. no-" You started, wanting to explain your thoughts.

"Honestly, it's all good. Things are hectic right now, so let's just forget it." He stood up and shoved his phone in his pocket.

You moved to the side to let him brush past. No words came to your mind after being dismissed the way you were. You heard him chime into the conversation with the others. You stood there, not quite understanding what happened.

Was he mad?

Your stomach sunk from the disappointment. Was Carmy not the person you thought he was? You thought he would understand the situation you had with Nick. But it seemed like he didn't even care. Maybe you didn't know Carmy as well as you thought you did.

That thought made your stomach churn. Everything was perfect one moment and then gone the next. You sat down on the chair and passively looked through some of the documents that Sugar asked you to look over. You were reading the words, but nothing was going in. Your mind was far away from work.

"You need to take the lockers down." Carmy said, glancing at Richie, who was rolling his eyes.

"Don't see the po-"

"Cousin, if we gonna do this, aren't half assin' it"

"Thank you," Fak chimed in, gesturing his hand to Carmy.

"Where's the paint?" Carmy asked looking down at the one can on the floor.

Fak gave a side eye to Marcus realizing they might have messed up. Carmy brought eyes back to them.

"That's it?" He whipped, seeing the expressions on their face.

"Well.. it's cost a lot... for just one can. The one you wanted.... We could only get one, " Fak explained, scratching his forehead.

Carmy exhaled out feeling annoyed with the situation. He felt the money slipping through his fingers and they haven't even started on the big jobs yet. He brought his hand over his face, puling down his expression while thinking.

"Look.... it's fine. I know it's not gonna to be enough. We'll increase the budget for the paint. Don't have an option"

"Marcus, go with him, make sure he gets enough, maybe another two cans" He continued.

"No worries, Chef." Marcus nodded and followed Fak out, making their way to the office to get one of the bundles of money that was hidden before continuing with the mission of getting more paint.

Richie and Carmy started unscrewing the old rusted brackets of the lockers. Richie groaned on about how his date last night was the dullest one he has had yet.

"Cousin, listen, this broad was stiffer than a slab of plaster." He explained, as the brackets creaked and started slowly pulling away from the wall.

"Mhmmm," Carmy peeked to the front side of the lockers over to Richie, making sure the lockers didn't topple over.

"When I brought up Bill Murray, she didn't even fuckin' blink. Like Bill Fuckin' Murray and I got nothin'. I had enough after that. Paid the bill and left. " He sighed.

The lockers creaked more and more as they lifted away from the wall. They were beyond their prime, with rust covering the sides of them. As Richie and Carmy moved the lockers away from the wall, the exposed back part of the locker broke away. Carmy readjusted his hand to get a better grip to start lifting it away from the wall. With his hand moving and not looking at where it was going, the rusted back panel glided along the inside of his hand.

"FUCKK" Carmy spat, dropping the locker immediately while looking down at his bleeding hand.

Carmy saw blood emerge from the palm. A long cut from one side to the other side.

Richie quickly worked his way around the locker to see Carmy gripping onto his wrist, his hand getting more and more covered in blood.

"Christ," Richie exclaimed, racing to the kitchen to get a clean rag.

"Shit" Carmy hissed.

He thought of you in that second, knowing that you knew first aid. He was hesitant to get you, with everything that was going on between you two, but the amount of blood was freaking him out.

Hearing Carmy yell out your name in such distress made you instantly jump up and run over to the commotion. As you turned the corner, you saw Carmy look to you with panic set in his eyes.

Richie is holding a rag tight around his hand. Your eyes traveled down to see splotches of blood on the ground where they were standing.

"What happened?" You asked frantically, rushing to Carmy's side.

"I-I fuckin' sliced my hand on the locker" Carmy spat feeling the pain get more intense now that the shock was wearing off.

You glanced over to see the loose panel, sticking out.

"Lemme see." You leaned over carefully, taking the rag away.

His hand was pumping blood, and travelling all over his hand. The rag was already dyed red.

"Carmy, it's deep. You gonna have to go to the hospital" you winced looking at his fresh open wound.

"Fuck me" He leaned his head back hating the thought of being stuck in the E.R for the rest of the day.

You looked over to the locker to see rusted metal exposed. You didn't want to take your chances. He was definitely going to the E.R.

"Someone's gonna have to bring him to hospital" You looked around.

"I'll bring 'im" Richie offered, still holding pressure to Carmy's hand

"No...no, you gotta stay here and finish this" Carmy said adamantly.

"Sugar?" You asked, not seeing her anywhere.

"Gone to get us lunch." Richie flickered his eyes to you briefly.

You exhaled knowing you were going to have to do it. Which wasn't great after the whole fiasco last night.

"I-I'll take him" you sighed knowing it was going to be awkward as hell.

"No..no you gotta stay here and sort things out with Suga'"

"Well one more day isn't gonna break us" Richie spoke up.

"Let me just fuckin' bring you ok?" You snapped getting annoyed from the lack of urgency between the two of them.

"Fine" Carmy said bluntly.

Richie offered his car and helped Carmy in the passenger seat as you got in the driver.

"Don't go too hard on her" Richie cheekily grinned leaning on the passenger window.

"Why the fu-"

"He's talking about the car," You smirked back at Richie

Carmy did an audible sigh clutching on to the newly stained rag on his hand. You looked over your shoulder after putting the car in reverse. Richie gave a salute watching you both pull away.

"How far away is the hospital?" You asked pulling up to a junction.

"About ... uh.. 20 minutes... if traffic is not bad" Carmy mumbled keeping his head down.

He continued to give you directions as you got closer and closer. No other topics were brought up, and to say it was awkward was an understatement. The tension in the air was bad, and you glanced over to him from time to time, but he would just stare out the window gripping onto his injured hand.

"Carmy, I just want to talk about las-"

"Can we not?" He cut across you.

You took a deep breath not appreciating his coldness towards you out of nowhere.

"Why.... Why can't we talk?" You said gently, not wanting to make the situation worse than it already was.

"Cause' I'm in a fuck ton of pain. Is that ok?" He looked at you for the first time since being in the car.

"...Okay" You hummed

You tried to not take it personal as you knew he was in a bad spot right now. He was having a hard time. But you wanted this out in the air. To just talk about what happened. What went wrong. Why was he so distant from you.

As you pulled up to the E.R door Carmy struggled to unbuckle his belt but after a few attempts he got it.

"I'll see you in there, let me just park the car" You said before watching him get out.

After 15 minutes of driving around trying to find something, you were finally able to park the car. You walked through the sliding doors and looked around to see if you could find a curly haired man sitting down with a bleeding hand. As your eyes scanned, you found him in the backend of one of the rows of seats.

"Want help?" You asked gently, sitting beside him

You watch him struggle writing with his left hand while holding the clip board against his lap with his injured one.

He brought his eyes up and nodded, giving a weak smile. It wasn't much, but it was something. He told you the information as you worked down through the form.

"My birthday is-"

He paused noticing that you were already started writing down his digits of his birthday.

"You remember?" A small smile creeping up on his face naturally.

You glanced up and nodded. Of course you remembered. You remembered forcing him to tell you years ago. He was stubborn, but after snooping through his application for the job that was stored away, you found out.

A minor detail that you remembered about him meant a lot to him. He never expected anyone to know his birthday as usually he thought the day was more of a burden for everyone than anything else. He always tried to glide past his birthday as fast as possible, which was hard to do when he lived in Chicago. But in New York, it was easy to forget when no one knew it in the first place. But when you got to know each other more, you demanded to know.

He didn't even realize you knew until it was the end of a long service night.

"Carmy, there's gonna be a problem with your paycheck this week, for some reason the direct debit is gonna be offline" You explained standing on the other side of the of the counter he was scrubbing.

"What you mean?" He squinted his eyes, figuring out what you were on about.

"I don't know, something about the bank fuckin' up. Vince wants you in his office" You continued.

"Uhh.. ok" Carmy looked over his cleaned bench before throwing a rag over his shoulder making his way to the office with you following behind.

He really didn't need this to happen right now as he was already behind on rent and he couldn't give his landlord anymore excuses.

Carmy gently knocked the closed office door before opening it, sticking his head in to see a small sponge cake with buttercream frosting sitting on the desk in completely darkness with candles on top brightening up the room.

His face light up immediately. He looked back to see your face covered in a cheeky grin.

"Un-fuckin'-believable" He shook his head with a huge smile on his face.

You ushered him into the office trying not let anyone know what was going on. You closed the door behind you and saw him look down at the cake with the candlelight reflecting off his eyes.

"I told you I would find out" You cackled, going over next to him.

"Who else knows?" He glanced at you.

"No one. Hence why we are hiding in Vince's office. Plus, I don't have enough cake for everyone.... So it's our little secret. " You giggled, feeling the mischievousness get to you a little.

You watched as he stared down at the cake smiling, like he didn't think it was real.

"Happy Birthday Carm" You said quietly, feeling your cheeks hurt from all the grinning.

He looked over at you and mouthed thank you. He gave you a half hug with his one arm wrapped around your shoulders before leaning down and blowing out the candles bringing the room to darkness.

"Carmy?" A woman called out.

Carmy got ripped out of his dissociated state by a familiar woman's voice.

You both looked up to see a brown hair woman in navy scrubs glancing down at him.

You looked over to him with his eyebrows furrowed.

"Uhh......Claire?" He eventually said.

She nodded eagerly.

"Oh my god, it's been so long. I didn't know you were back in town" She grinned.

He sat there for a moment. He couldn't believe Claire was here. He was caught completely off guard. His attention snapped back when you gave a light cough, realizing he hasn't introduced you yet.

"Hi Claire, nice to meet you" You leaned over shaking her hand when Carmy finally got the words to introduce you after staring at her for awkwardly long time.

"What happened?" You watched as she brought her attention to the blood stained cloth.

"Uhh.. I-I had an accident- but n-nothing too serious" Carmy stuttered.

"Okay, well let me have a look at it for you and get you fixed up" She smiled flickering her eye between the both of you.

Whatever you were witnessing, you felt like the third wheel. You felt like you were watching their meet cute after years of not seeing each other. You could sense something going on between them which unsettled you.

"Do you want to head back? I think I'll be okay from here" He looked over to you pressing his lips together.

You glanced up and noticed her eyes soft with kindness and joy like she was in a Hollywood movie as 'the girl next door'.

"Um... okay" you brought your eyes back to him.

You were taken aback with being dismissed so quickly. You definitely felt that you were interfering with something between them now.

"What about your ride? I could wait out here til' your done" You offered.

"I'll call Richie. I think you head back and make sure everyone still on track" He gave a quick smile.

"Thanks for bringing him in" Claire hummed taking the half filled form off of you.

You watched as Carmy followed Claire down the hall. You were left sitting there not understanding what had happened.

What was going on? Who is Claire? Is she his ex?

All these thoughts whizzed through your head as you made your way back to the restaurant with Google Maps on your lap.

If she was his ex, then they must have ended pretty civil.

Family friend maybe?

But the way she looked at him. The way her eyes sparkled when she first came over. It definitely seemed more than friends.

You continued to overthink as you pulled up and put Richie's car into park. You sat there for a moment to gather your thoughts and pull yourself together.

"Ayye , you're back fast," Richie chimed, unscrewing the lockers on the other wall.

"Just me," you gave a weak smile.

"Did he bleed out on the way there?" Richie scoffed turning the screwdriver against the wall.

"Ha. Ha". You mocked walking over to him,

"Do you know a Claire?" You questioned, handing back Richie's keys.

He paused on what he was doing, putting the keys back in his pocket, and a smile emerged his face.

"Claire? Highschool Claire?"

You shrugged, not trying to show not to care. You had a feeling that your poker face wasn't working though.

"Why?" He walked over closer to you.

"She was at the hospital. She's looking after him." You stated.

You could feel Richie eyes on your face, trying to pick up any emotion resting on your face.

"Yea, yeah, that sounds about 'ight. I think I remember Fak sayin' somethin' about that" His eyes still on you.

"I remember running into her couple of years ago and I barely recognized her. You should have seen her in her ugly duckling stage."

You instinctively felt your mouth scrunch up.

"She had these ugly ass glasses when she was younger. She's a beaut now" He continued.

You looked down, avoiding his eyes, afraid that he would see all the emotion on your face that you were feeling in your stomach. The bubbling anxiety that seem to get stronger and stronger with every mention of this Claire.

"I remember she used to have the biggest crush on him years ago... like-"

"I gotta catch up on some work, but uh... Carmy said he ring you when he's done" you muttered before b lining it to the office.

Richie raised his eyebrows, leaving him hanging by the lockers. He wasn't an idiot, he sensed something was going on between you and Carmy. Whatever the hell was happening, he wanted no part in it. He learned his lesson from the past of getting involved with Carmy's love interests.

You heard Fak and Marcus come back with the paint, and Sugar followed, holding lunch in a big brown paper bag for everyone.

Lunch was spread across what furniture was left up at the shop's front. It looked desolate now with a lot of the counter space removed and the signs taken down from the walls leaving rusted marks behind. Everyone was settled by leaning against the wall or counters, stuffing their faces with lunch.

"Where's Carm?" Sugar asked, holding a sandwich.

"Hospital" Richie muffled with a mouth full of bread.

"What?" Her jaw dropping slightly open thinking of the worst case scenario.

"It's okay... he just cut his hand", you showed your hand to demonstrate the wound.

"It was deep, so brought him to the hospital to get stitches" You continued.

She nodded lightly, trying to catch up on what had happened.

"He'll be okay" you gave a reassuring smile.

"Ooohh he'll be more than okay" Richie laughed.

"Claire is nursing him" He smirked at Sugar.

"Claire Claire?" Sugar asked staring at Richie on the opposite side of the room where he was sat on the counter.

"Oh yeah, forgot she worked there" Fak hummed taking another bite of his lunch

"Fuck me, bangin' body and smart, go cousin" Richie grinned cheekily.

You bite your lip hard trying to hold back from showing how agitated you were getting. It clearly wasn't working though.

Shut up Sugar mouthed to Richie before quickly glancing at you. Richie eyes flickered to you also. You felt your face heat up and looked down avoiding anyone's eyeline. Your stomach was in knots after Richie's rave about Claire. What you thought was just going to be a little bit of a rough day, was turning out to be one of the worse days.

"Thanks for the lunch Sugar. I'm gonna catch up on some work and eat in the office" You gave a fake smile to her, clutching the sandwich in your hand.

You went back to the office and closed the door wanting to be left alone for awhile. You didn't touch the sandwich, you couldn't even stomach taking a bite right now. You tried to settle yourself by taking deep breaths. It helped a little til' your heard the familiar hum of Carmy's voice in the distance. You closed your eyes and tried to block him out not wanting to hear anything that was being said about this 'Claire'.

"OOOHHH.. Here comes the devil himself, " Richie announced, seeing Carmy come through the front door.

Carmy had a puzzled look on his face not completely sure what he was coming into.

"You hungry?" Sugar asked offering the sandwich to him.

"Uhh.. yeah, thanks" He gave a quick smile before scanning the room.

"..Wait, I was 'pose to give you a ride?" Richie realized taking a swig of his can of coke.

"Y-yeah, well... Claire offered, she was on her lunch" He unwrapped his sandwich.

Richie looked over to Sugar and wagged his eyebrows repeatedly while she rolled hers.

As they pulled up on the curb, front of the building, the windows covered in newspaper. Carmy opened the door, he gave a small smile before getting out of the car.

"Carmy...." Claire's called out, making him look back, his hand still on the handle.

"I would hate to lose contact... again." She took her phone out of pocket and tapped the screen a couple of times before handing it to him.

He took it off of her to see 'New Contact' on the phone.

He paused for a moment and looked up, giving her a brief smile. For some reason, he hesitated. It was still the same Claire that he doted over years ago. The feeling he had when around her was there but...something wasn't right. When he first saw Claire, he barely recognized her. She looked so different, but her manner was the same. She was still shy, gentle, with the same kind smile.

He typed out his number fast, not looking over it before handing it back to her.

She looked down at her phone and saved the number. She brought her eyes back to him.

"Thanks for the ride", they looked at each other for a moment.

"See you later" she smiled watching him get out of the car.

Carmy leaned down and looked through the passenger window, giving a loose wave. He watched as she pulled away and drove down the street.

As they caught up while she was fixing his hand up, he couldn't stop thinking about the look on your face when Claire introduced herself. The look of confusion? Sadness? Or maybe jealousy?

The thought of you feeling jealous made him think that maybe he had read last night wrong. Maybe you wanted him but just couldn't for some reason. it didn't matter how many time he told himself to stop over analyzing the night, he couldn't. He kept thinking on what he could have done differently.

What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just stop thinking about you. Stop wondering what you were thinking of him? He couldn't even think straight when talking to Claire.

Since yesterday, you haven't left his mind once even when he was occupied doing tasks, his mind would still be revolving around you. He was tired. He needed time to re-center himself. It wasn't healthy thinking in circles like he has been. Especially about someone who was one of his closest friends.

He walked towards the door with his newly bandaged hand. He had a feeling that he was going to get an earful from Richie about Claire. Memories from the past jolted his mind of Mikey and Richie hounding on him about bedding Claire. They would go on about how it would 'loosen' him up, whatever that meant.

For the rest of the day, both you and Carmy avoided each other. With so much going on with the restaurant, it was easy. Sugar and you were in the office dealing with registering the new restaurant and organizing the safety inspection when it came to gas line. Sugar headed home earlier, with Pete calling her about dinner being ready. You realized that no one was going to give you that call as you usually went home to a microwave meal calling your name.

"Hey I'm gonna be lockin' up ina bit" A soft voice came from the door.

Your head snapped up from the interruption.

"Uhh.. yeah. No problem. Let me just tidy up here, " you fumbled, caught off guard with him even talking to you.

Carmy fought with himself all evening, whether he should say anything to you about last night and even today. He knew he was cold towards you and felt like a piece of shit.

Fuck it

"Uhh.. s-sorry for today. Its been kinda rough and-" He said, looking with sympathetic eyes.

"Honestly, don't worry about it. You've been through enough as it is" you gave a reassuring smile and gestured to his injured hand.

He looked down at the bandage and smiled. He realized that you were there for him when he needed you. There was no hesitation on your end. He felt even more guilty about earlier now.

"How is it?" You asked bringing him back to the conversation.

"Um.. It hurts... B-but I'll live"

"Thanks for helping me... Really" He continued.

Silence came between both of you. Your eyes lingered longer than they should. His too. For one second, things seemed to be normal. A part of you wanted to hug him. You imagined yourself crashing into his chest and breathing him in. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Your mind always wandering back to Claire.

You wanted to ask about her. You wanted to ask him how important she was to him. Was he interested in her? She clearly was interested in him. There was no doubt about that.

But all those questions were obvious, and the answers would hurt too much. You wanted to be clueless about them, but your brain was intrusive with constant thoughts about Claire.

"I'm glad I was able to help." You gave a gentle smile tapping your pen mindlessly against the desk.

After everything that has happened today, Carmy was happy to see you not completely hate him. It gave him some peace that you've recovered from how he acted the previous night.

"Well, I'll start closing up." Carmy scratched his head, turning back towards the kitchen.

You sat there with a smile spread across your face. You felt the familiar fuzziness in your chest. The feel that you could only associate Carmy with. He was the one who could you blush with just one look.

With the back door locked, you both walked around towards the front of the building where the yellow hued streetlights reflected off the newspaper covered windows.

Carmy stuffed his hands in his pockets trying to retain any heat left in his body. He glanced over at you to see the light breeze carry some of the loose strays of hair across your face. You shook your head trying to get them out of the way but failed. As cold as it was, he wanted to take his hand out and gently moved them behind your ear. He saw how your nose and ears got redder with the harsh cold surrounding them. You caught him staring but he brought his eyes down instantly, hoping that he wasn't admiring you awkwardly for too long.

These urges that he got were hard to ignore. He didn't want to think like this. As hard as he tried, his mind would always lead more than friends when it came to you.

If there was any chance of clearing the air about the past night, this was going to be it. While you both were alone and no chaos was happening around you.

"I know last night was a mess.... and I wan-"

"N-no, no, I was a dick." He stated continuing to look down at the ground.

A memory flashback through your mind of him walking out the door in a rush.

"Okay... maybe a little" a smile crept up on your face.

"Yeah," You heard a chuckle from him.

You wanted to tell him that what happened last night was nothing to do with him. You wanted to explain why you were like this. You needed to tell him how you felt. Whether he felt the same or not. You could at least put it to rest and not wonder what if. With Claire in the picture, the urge for you to put yourself out there was stronger. But also, the chances of getting hurt were higher.

"Carmy, I've never told you this... but.." You broke off trying to find the courage.

You looked over to see him looking at you. His eyes searching your face.

What the hell. Just tell him what you feel.

Before its too late.

"I've never said thank you for contacting me... for reaching out" you sighed, feeling your heart thump in your chest.

You couldn't do it. Even if last night showed you anything, maybe... even maybe he might feel the same way about you.

The edges of his lips curled up like he knew you backed out on what you were actually going to say.

"Of course, you were always on my mind, " He hummed

That surprised you. You knew he was onto bigger things after getting an offer for a new job in New York. You knew how fast the restaurant business was when it came to successful chefs. Maybe he was making it up, just to be nice. Or maybe it was true and you needed to just stop overthink everything word that came out of his mouth.

The idea of inviting him over to your place crossed your mind. You wanted to not have the last memory of him there rushing out the door slamming it on his way out. You wanted to put yourself out there and inviting him over would be the first step to do that.

There was a couple of moments of silence before you took a deep breath.

"Um.. Do you-" You started but heard a faint buzzing.

Carmy took his phone out of his pocket to see a random number pop up on his phone. He looked up at you nearly asking for permission to answer it.

You nodded, not wanting to take him away from the phone call. You watched him swipe his finger across the screen and bring his phone up to his face. He looked over to you, giving a light smile.

"Hello?" He answered.

You heard the murmuring of the other person on the end of the phone.

"Oh.. Claire, " He announced, bringing his eyes down to the ground.

Your ears perked from him calling her name out.

The feeling in your stomach dropped. She has his number. Of course she does. If they're exes she wouldn't delete it and if they're close friends then she would definitely have it. The pure disappointment you felt made you nauseous. You clenched your jaw waiting for the horrid feeling to go away, but it didn't. You felt like this phone call was going to drag on for awhile and didn't want to be tortured listening to conversation.

You gestured your thumb over your shoulder, indicating to Carmy that you were heading home. He pressed his lips together into a flat smile and nodded in acknowledgement. You gave a smile and wave, with him returning one back. You began to walk down the street hearing Carmy's voice get more and more distant.

Carmy watched you walk away and bit his lip in annoyance. He wished his phone was on silent.

"Carmy?" He heard Claire call out on the other end of the phone.

"Oh, y-yeah, sorry... did I? I didn't see the typo when I put it in" He shook his head bringing his attention back to the conversation.

"I was thinking about maybe we could meet up tomorrow night... if your free" She added.

"Uhhh.. y-yeah I should be." He responded.

He started slowly walking back to his apartment absent-mindedly continuing his conversation with Claire.

Days went by and things started getting serious. All of you realize that the place was going to need more than just a facelift. The excitement of finding the money, made Carmy and Sydney think that a lick of paint some new furnishings would make their vision come to life. That's until the ceiling collapsed on top of Richie in the form of black mold.

"This place is solid.. I swear- I swear to you on my own grave" Richie placed his hand on his chest looking over at Sugar and Sydney.

"I don't know, look at the black patches along the walls" Sydney pointed to the corner where the lockers were.

"Nah, some bleach and paint and these walls are good as new"

"Syd has a point, that ceiling looks like it about to cave in any second" Sugar commented crossing her arms looking up above Richie.

"Hold on, just look" Richie leaned over and grabbed a broom that was leaning up against the wall.

He held near the end of the broom and hit the tip of the handle to the ceiling.

"See? If it was mold, I wouldn't be able to-"

Suddenly a black cloud of dust bellows around Richie with chucks of the ceiling falling around him.

"Shit!" Syd shouted jumping back with Sugar, avoiding the clump of black mold landing where they were.

With the dust settling, Richie head hung in defeat. He was still holding the broom with the majority of him covered in black dust.

"Fuck me" He mumbled to himself.

"As you were saying Richie?" Syd chuckled with Sugar.

"Yea.. yeah whatever..." He uttered.

"Oh God... Syd I hate to break it to you but.. I think we are gonna need more than just a facelift" Sugar leans over looking up at the crumbing hole above Richie.

"You okay?" She brought her attention down to Richie who now started using the broom to swept the mess just created,

"Yea.... just covered in black shit" He huffed.

"Yeah... We are definitely gonna need more than just a facelift" Syd sucked in her lips wondering how they were going to break it to Carmy.

Later that day, the news got around about the hole in the ceiling, which lead to an emergency meeting at the shop front. You received a text from Sugar asking if you could come in even though this was your first day off since moving here. You didn't really mind as you were still setting up your apartment and resting.

You came in from the back and leaned over to see the gaping hole near where the lockers used to be before making your way to the front to see Syd, Sugar and Richie already discussing things.

"Hey" You greeted before getting hit in the face with a musky smell that was getting stronger as you walked in.

"Oh God... What the hell is that smell?" Your face morphed into disgust as you resisted the urge to breath through your nose.

"That would be Richie" Sugar nodded her head towards him.

You glanced over to see a depressed and filthy Richie on the other side of the room leaning up against the wall.

"Hey, hey I tried to get this shit off but the more I rub, the more it spreads. I needa shower" He said irritably.

"Where Carmy?" You asked surprised not seeing him yet.

"We were gonna ask you" Syd said furrowing her eyebrows.

Within that moment, the locks on the front door clicked and Carmy came walking through the door with his shoulders uptight shielding him from the frosty weather outside.

"S'up, sorry... I got caught up" Carmy closed the door behind him

"..With Claire" Richie coughed out, smirking at Carmy.

"Shut up" Carmy giving a dirty look to him.

"What's up?" He turns his attention to everyone and landed his eyes on you, giving a brief small smile.

You gave a smile back but having a depressing feeling from the image of him and Claire hanging out before this which was probably true. You wished Richie didn't say anything so you could have pretended to be oblivious.

"We have a new feature that Richie created today-"

"How the fuck did I know it was gonna come down like that"

"Richie, if I remember, did you not- and correct me Syd if I'm wrong, swear on your grave that this place is 'solid'" Sugar clapped back with air quotes.

"Fuck you- you're not the one that got cover in black sh-"

"Guys, guys c'mon" Syd tried to interrupt with Sugar and Richie yelling at each other at this point.

You looked over to Carmy to see him pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

"Cousin, stop" He raised his voice looking over at him.

"COUSIN, SUGAR!" He yells bringing the arguing to a halt but with Richie and Sugar giving each other death stares.

"Thank you" Carmy exhaled.

"Here's the deal, there's a massive hole in the ceiling and it doesn't matter who caused it, it's there now" Syd glanced over to both Sugar and Richie before continuing.

"The facelift that you and I talked about.. well.. it's turning more into open heart surgery at this point" Sydney explained looking over at Carmy.

"Yea, yeah... I had a feeling you were gonna say that" Carmy hummed leaning his head back staring up.

"Fuckin' shit" He said under his breath.

"I- I was doing some light research coming over here and from what I'm seeing..." You paused knowing the number you were going to say next was going to hurt.

"We're gonna need at least 400,000 dollars more" You winced and bite your lip not wanting to bring the bad news.

"Holy shit" Sugar gasped.

The place was silence to the point where you could hear a pin drop. The atmosphere was tense with everyone tired of the challenges the restaurant constantly throwing at you all.

"We're gonna have to inform the city that we have critical mold issue" You explained.

"What?" Richie called out with a puzzled face

"Yea, apparently in state of Illinois if you- hold on" You pulled out your phone and pulled up the tab you had open already.

"I quote 'if you have significant damaged caused by mold you have to notify your neighbors and IDPH" You read looking up from your phone.

"So with that, I looked up what might need to be done when it comes to the mold issue... and.. ", you put your phone in your back pocket.

"Well.. my very rough guesstimate is around 400,000 dollars.... at least" You added biting your lip.

Everyone stayed silence processing the bomb you just dropped on them when it came to changing the whole plan of the restaurant.

"Carm... I know you don't want to... but we gonna have to go to Jimmy" Sugar spoke up looking across to him.

Carmy knew they were forced into a tight corner with the condition of the property. The idea of pumping serious money into this place was becoming very real.

"Fuck... I know. He mumbled

"That's gonna be a fun conversation" Carmy inhaled rubbing his eyes with both of his hands.

The rest of the night was spent on all of you coming up with a pitch. A pitch that would somehow convince Jimmy to lend even more money with no proof that he was going to get it back. Carmy, Sugar and Richie were apprehensive with Sydney being the only positive one. But she didn't understand how awkward Jimmy can be, especially when he had something to hang over your heads like the fine total of 800,000 dollars.

"18 months? Will that be enough?" You glance over to Carmy as you all surround a scrap of cardboard that Carmy was scribbling figures over.

"It's gonna hafta be... I feel like he won't give us any longer"

"It's gonna be tight..." Richie voiced out.

"We're gonna have to hit the ground running. Pretty much booked out every week" Sugar added biting on her thumb nail.

"We'll have to open up sooner. Way sooner" You looked over to the makeshift calendar that had the timeframe of when everything was getting done across the wall. With a lot more getting added on to the to-do list and a less time to work with, a new calendar was going be to be needed.

Carmy brought his hands up behind his head extending his elbow outwards. Everyone continued to look down at the torn piece of cardboard seeing the future of the restaurant on it. The future of all the success on it. It was unnerving to see it in plain figures. Money having a chokehold on survival rate of 'The Bear'.

"Everything will be fine...." Sydney said to herself.

"...Won't we?" She glanced at everyone with her face covered in anxiety.

The room stayed silent with the sounds of city in the background.

Chapter 6

Masterlist for other fics

Taglist: @wabi-sabi1090

[zahri-melitor]

Newish Comics

Batman: The Brave and the Bold #17: oh, we are recanonising Officer Down immediately before going into All Along the Watchtower? That's...a choice. Not necessarily a bad one, but hmmm it very much positions Harvey Bullock (though while recanonising it we've now made the hit go awry, so hmmmmm).

The Leap Day story was fine, it felt like a Batman fill. I don't care for the Constantine team up with Streaky but that's normal for me. Billy seemed sort of young in the diner story, but it was a cute team up (though Basil Karlo, you know there's a perfectly fine team name for Clayfaces, it's the Mud Pack, why were you reaching for 'The Clay Team').

The Man-Bat story made me emotional, especially in that Kirk says he's still very separated from Francine.

Action Comics #1069: These were...fine. I did have to laugh that Rowell's conclusion to 'is it unethical to report on yourself' was 'we're both somewhat unethical and are going to do it anyway'.

The Flash #13: This remains a very good Wally West comic. I did squint at Linda saying she went through labour three times, but I think this is meant in terms of the nonsense surrounding the twins' pregnancy involved her to first miscarry and then give birth to the twins. That or she's counting active labour/delivery for the twins separately.

I'm excited for Skartaris. I presume we're also time travelling somewhat given Travis appeared alive in the dream scene, but also I'm fully aware that nobody actually remembers Travis did actually die and Joshua's now the Warlord. Unless there's further developments beyond that that I haven't sussed out yet.

Green Arrow #16: I love your confidence in Connor, Ollie, but's he's still like...top 10 living fighters, not the 'greatest fighter the world has ever seen'. (I did enjoy the little smirk on Connor's face from his very first panels that was very 'you are underestimating me').

Also still so very bored with this extremely obvious triple cross. I presume we will finally get around to the payoff in Absolute Power #4. (Let Cissie and Sienna go home)

Outsiders #11: This has been an interesting comic. I'm still not sure how much of a difference it would have made to label this 'Planetary'. What I enjoyed was Kate and Luke getting some page time. I'm unconvinced that what we need is an Authority reboot centred around the Bats (I cringed at the "Lucius Fox to be the Doctor! Luke Fox to be the Engineer!" stuff) but I don't hate the idea of an Authority reboot, especially if they give it teeth. If you're doing the Authority can I have Jack Hawksmoor mentoring Cameron Kim instead thanks.

Zatanna: Bring Down the House #4: the art on this title remains super pretty. It's really an interesting rewrite of Zee's history

The Warlord #69: This week in the lost land of Skartaris, everyone is finally heading back to the present from Wizard World.

Of course, it goes wrong.

...

...

bahahahhahahahahaha oh Dan Jurgens you clearly didn't have any decent reference images

The best bit, beyond the incredibly tall buildings in the middle of the water of Circular Quay, or the surprise mountains coming out of the water around Kirribilli, or the fact that Blues Point Tower is apparently 3x taller than it actually is (while still being an eyesore) is that Travis and Shakira have ended up in a future where, to my eye, Fort Denison was never constructed on Pinchgut Island.

This means nothing to anyone not heavily steeped in history of the settlement of Sydney but just trust me that it is very VERY funny in terms of what it means that Travis is just lying there on the rocks.

That's because even in this weird badly photoreferenced Sydney, Shakira, you are currently on what's essentially one of the most desolate rock islands in the centre of the harbour and from that sun it looks like if the fort was actually still there it would be closed for the day.

You might get to see Benny the seal though.

They then proceed to walk on water to get to the city, because even if this WAS on the north shore of the harbour they clearly aren't walking to Chatswood.

Travis finds the city to be incredibly empty and wonders if the Cold War suddenly got hot in his absence. But then! Travis gets jumped by some of Abe Saffron's boys and girls in a deeply amusing conglomeration of 80s fashion and space age dressing. So glad to see recognition of Sydney's underworld in an American comic. (They don't specify they're working for old Abe but you know. I can read into these things)

So they proceed to walk south in Australia heading for Melbourne so they can fly or sail to Antarctica and the hole to enter the centre of the earth. It's racist in places and has a farm that's raising wombats and I cannot take any of it seriously, but I am so amused.

[callmeabeverhausen]

a close up of the "tower eye of sydney". The golden turret near the top of the tower has a maximum capacity of 960 people

[fluentmoviequoter]

Gods and Monsters

Pairing: platonic Vicious characters x fem!mutant!reader ; platonic X-Men x fem!mutant!reader

Summary: You, a mutant with the power to detect and redirect the power of others, are transported to Victor Vale's world.

Warnings: Wade and Logan, fluff, brief angst, opportunity for part 2 if anyone actually likes this

Word Count: 1.3k+ words

A/N: I have no idea where this came from other than my obsession with X-Men and Vicious. It's probably terrible, but enjoy (said threateningly).

Picture from Pinterest (Bless you, artists. I love you all.)

“Shut up, Deadpool!” you yell as you throw your arms toward a fire-breathing mutant.

“But, sweet cheeks,” Wade begins, his voice surprisingly clear through his wet mask.

“Wade,” Logan growls.

“Oh, kabob, you know how it makes me feel when you use my real name.”

“I’d cut your tongue out if I thought it was worth the time,” Logan grunts, digging his claws into a shooter as he fires into Logan’s leg.

“Very Eli Ever of you,” Wade jokes.

“You and that stupid book.”

“Hey, don’t take your anger at Wade out on Victor Vale,” you call to Logan. “He would’ve ended this fight already.”

“He’s not real!”

“Whatever!” Wade interrupts. “Let’s... go!”

“I think you forgot a word, there, bub.”

“The writer threatened to put soap in my mouth, and I’d rather not get soap poisoning and go blind.”

“Uh, guys?” you murmur as an orange spark glints below you.

“Move!” Logan and Wade yell together.

You try to step back, but it’s too late. As you stumble on the dewy grass, or where it was a moment ago, you fall backward into a door-sized hole in the earth. Wade and Logan scream above you, but everything goes silent before you crash onto a sidewalk.

Coughing, you sit up and try to catch your breath. A large black dog presses its nose into your face and sniffs you, its tail wagging lazily.

“Hi, puppy,” you greet quietly. “You’re much cuter than Dogpool.”

Wade makes an offended noise somewhere in your mind, and you smile at the memory.

“Are you okay?” the girl with the dog asks.

You nod and rub your head as you look toward her. When you see her blond hair, water blue eyes, rainbow leggings, and red jacket, you freeze.

“Sydney?” you whisper.

Her eyes widen, and she steps back, pulling who you now believe to be Dol with her. This isn’t real, you tell yourself as you blink rapidly. I just hit my head or let someone in my head. You reach out mentally but only feel Sydney’s power and the dial of a dull ache settling deep in your bones. Victor, you realize. There is no way I’m in a book I’ve read.

“Sydney,” someone calls.

You prepare yourself to see Victor Vale, but your expectation falls short. He towers above you where you sit on the sidewalk, and Mitch stands beside him with his muscular arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh, come on,” you murmur, feeling Victor’s powers nudge you away from Sydney. Inside, though, you’re trying not to show your excitement at being in the same moment, the same universe, you presume, as some of your favorite book characters.

“… knows my name,” Sydney whispers to Victor.

“I can explain that, Victor,” you interject. Mitch’s eyes widen at your use of Victor’s name, and you add, “I swear I don’t mean any harm. Especially to you, Mitch, you’ve been through enough.”

“Explain it quickly,” Victor demands, upping the pain dial.

You shift uncomfortably but embrace the pain as you say, “I was at my home, where you are characters in a book, and then this portal opened in the ground, and I landed on the sidewalk here. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I know that I don’t belong here. I’d never hurt you, though, I just want to figure this out and get home.”

Victor hums, then shakes his head. He pictures the dial, and you rush to ask, “Should we meet at Falcon Price at midnight so I can prove it?”

Victor’s jaw tightens, and you allow him to flood your senses with pain. As your consciousness fades, you wonder what Logan and Wade are thinking. Maybe they’ve written you off already and have gone back to trying to kill one another.

“That seemed a lot more intense in the book,” you mumble as you wake, tied to a chair.

“So, you fell out of the sky. Where are you from?” Victor asks, leaning on a table across from you as he looks down at a knife.

“Westchester,” you answer immediately. “New York.”

“Who do you work for?”

“That’s complicated.”

“What do you do?”

“Save the world or try to. Can I ask you one question? Just one, I promise.”

Victor gestures with the knife for you to ask, a lazy movement with too much grace and fluidity. Now you wish you’d asked for two questions. You'd use the other to beg him to teach you.

“Thank you; Wade would kill me if I didn’t ask. Who’s taller, you or Eli? Because every time we try to find out, Victoria just confuses us.”

“Victoria?”

“She wrote the book,” you answer. “Named you after herself, prideful, I know. But she also made Angie look like her and look how she turned out. Wait, what color were Angie's eyes?”

You clamp your mouth shut and make a mental note to apologize to Wade. Now that you’re in the right situation, you can see why he runs his mouth constantly.

“You save the world?” Victor repeats, laying the knife blade across his palm.

“Or try to,” you remind him.

“So, you have powers?”

“Yeah.”

Victor’s patience is wearing thin, and you can tell when he asks, “What are they?”

“Well,” you begin, tilting your head. “Charles calls it power-kineses. I can detect powers and turn them against other mutants, people, whatever I want.”

“Charles?” Victor repeats, his pale brows drawn together. “As in Professor X, Magneto, X-Men, Charles?”

“You have him here?” you ask excitedly.

“No, he’s a comic book character.”

“Comic book?”

Victor stands straight at the realization that you’re not only claiming to be a powered individual from another universe but part of the X-Men. He hadn’t believed you so far, and his doubt is rapidly multiplying.

“Don’t make me do this,” you whisper.

Victor lowers the knife toward your abdomen, and you locate the pain he’s sending through your body and turn it. Sydney is the only other person in the room, so her gasp of pain is undeniable. Victor immediately turns the dial down, then off, and turns toward you.

“Just like I’m in a book here, you’re in a book where I come from. I know more about you than anyone else, Victor,” you explain, “even Eli.”

“Our worlds aren’t the same. This one can’t be saved.”

“In this world, powered people are monsters, right? Even Eli, as he fights to be a god. Victor, I’m used to the judgment, people calling me unnatural or a mutant. But I can help you.”

“She’s telling the truth,” Mitch announces as he returns. “There was a limited run of X-Men from the ‘70s. Nearly impossible to find today, but Radar is in them.”

“Radar?” you repeat. “That’s an awful name, so thanks for letting me get ahead of that one. Cyclops said he’d brainstorm something, but I didn’t expect it to be so…”

“Stupid?” Sydney suggests.

“Precisely.”

“Who’s your favorite character in our book?” she inquires, walking toward you.

Victor eyes you warily, but as you smile and tell her that you can't pick between them, then whisper that it’s Dol, he decides to trust you. Not because of anything you’ve said or the evidence that Mitch found, but because if Sydney and Mitch can trust you, you can’t be entirely bad. He walks around you, cuts your restraints, and returns the knife to the table.

“So, how do you stop Eli?” Victor asks.

“Well, it won’t be easy, even with the ability to alter his power,” you begin. “What exactly are you planning to do? Still out to kill him or just draw blood and lock him up?”

Before Victor can answer, a portal opens behind you, and a clawed hand reaches through and pulls you backward. You stumble as you fall out of the world you just agreed to help save.

Landing with a thud, you groan and look up at Logan and Wade, staring down at you.

“You’ll never guess who I just met,” you murmur.

“We weren’t done yet,” Victor says through the portal, which turns red around the edges as he uses his powers across the universes to keep it open.

“Is that Victor Vale?” Wade exclaims. “What the fridge?”

[imapuppy5000]

Story on Orion’s Backstory. Since I don’t know it and I’m writing and learning everything as I go it’ll be in parts since I tend to get long winded when I’m just writing rather then trying to get a point across.

Anyhow, enjoy.

Sydney belongs to @tamberwoof btw. She’s only mentioned briefly but I don’t want to take credit for her existence.

Orion: Part 1

The pup watched as the clock ticked down. He was six years old but this was his first time in this ring and he had to wonder what the clock was counting down to. It was already almost at zero.

Curiously he turned to his mother— or he should have but she wasn’t there anymore? “Ma?” He asked, adjusting his tattered shirt and running a few paces as he looked around. “Ma?” His voice pitched higher in fear as he paced in every direction, his steps getting more frantic the longer he was in such an unfamiliar place without his mother. His nose was twitching desperately but all he could smell was smoke and blood. The clock chimed as it struck zero and the pup turned to face it, breath coming out in shallow bursts and eyes watering.

Above the clock tower the sky flashed white, forcing the pup to shield his eyes with a bandaged arm— an injury he had received in a spat with his older brother. When he lowered his arm there were grey monsters descending from the sky and killing everyone in sight. They had long horns and terrifying grins, each one wielding a spear that cut through demons and sinners like butter.

Yelping, the pup turned and fled into the nearest alley, skittering his way under a garbage bin and whimpering sharply to himself. He was panicked and terrified and he was pretty sure he had peed himself but he couldn’t bring himself to care about that when he was lost in the middle of a massacre. Grey feet tapped by him and his tail tucked as his whimpers of terror got louder. He tried to shush himself but he couldn’t and he was crying now and— and stars that monster was lifting the bin! Quickly he scrambled back against the wall, curled into a tiny ball and sobbing, begging shakily to be spared.

White soulless eyes met his own, but the smile wasn’t there. Slowly the bin was lowered and with a flap of wings he was alone again. He slowly started to quiet as he hid and, to his relief, no one else bothered him. Eventually the screaming had stopped and all he could hear was the persistent ringing in his folded ears and sirens wailing on.

Even still he waited. He waited until night had come and gone. He waited until the normal city noises started up again. He waited under there for hours on end. He crept out from his hiding spot and into the street which was bustling once more. Tentatively he glanced around. No more monsters… then that meant one thing. “MOMMA!” He howled, sobbing once again. “MOMMA!”

Orion awoke with a start, sweating and panting heavily. His hands were clammy and he had to flex them a few times before he could even consider wiping them off on his bed sheets. He was shaking but that was common after that stupid extermination dream. He shook out his fur with a huff and got out of bed, groaning as he rubbed a hand over his face.

He had a busy day (every day was busy working at the Carmine Compound). He needed to get ready and stop being so pathetic. He wasn’t a pup anymore. And he had no reason to be scared of extermination when he was working for a weapons dealer. Hell’s most powerful one at that. He grunted and stripped off his boxers before stepping into the shower and letting the cold shock him fully out of his childish fear. It warmed up slowly and he soaked it in for far too long before finally washing himself and drying off. His fur fluffed and curled just slightly and he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked ridiculous.

The hellhound laughed a little and brushed out the fur that would be visible after he put on his uniform. Well uniform was a strong word. He didn’t need to wear it but he helped him match his boss and made him seem less out of place.

Easily he brushed his fangs and flashed a winning smile to himself via the mirror before he got dressed and headed out of his room. Breakfast went smoothly, a bowl of cereal with Sydney and the girls, but he had to get to work soon so he bid them farewell and met up with Carmilla right as she left her room. Punctual as always. He smiled at her consistency and fell into step right behind her, ears pricked and eyes peeled for potential dangers. The pair made their way to the warehouse where Orion watched workers buzz around like bees, loading shipping containers and taking count of inventory.

“Orion.” Carmilla said, hands behind her back and gaze cold.

She didn’t look at him but his head immediately snapped from the workers below to her. “Ma’am?”

“I’m going out. Would you prefer to come with me or stay and help?”

“Come with you.” His answer was immediate and he was almost offended she thought he might choose to stay and load boxes over spending time with and protecting her.

She flashed him a smile and led the way out of the compound.

He was on a much higher alert now with all these filthy sinners who would give anything to kill Carmilla and take over her share of hell. His eyes darted to every little movement. Forcing his shoulders into a more relaxed set so he didn't show how anxious he was today, he asked, “So where are we heading?”

“Zestial’s.” She answered with a little smirk, glancing at him. His face remained stoic but she could see his tail wagging behind him. He had a bad habit of never being able to control it so when she wanted to see what he was really feeling she’d look for the tail. “No need to keep up the face.” She dismissed, waving a hand. “No one will harm us. They wouldn’t dare.” She glared at a small sinner who had a little dagger in his hands and he glared back before skittering away with his metaphorical tail between his legs. “I know you’re excited to see Athena.”

“Just as I’m sure you're excited to see Zestial.” He teased.

She smacked his arm lightly in retaliation and they both laughed. They both had their reasons for visiting the daunting overlord and though those reasons were similar they were not the same.

[mollietanner]

( SYDNEY SWEENEY, FEMALE, SHE/HER ) MOLLIE TANNER the TWENTY-EIGHT year old is said to remind people of CLEAN LAUNDRY PILED ON A CHAIR & A GLASS OF WINE IN THE EVENINGS. they are known to be PLAYFUL and SENSITIVE which makes sense when you think about how they are a FLORIST who lives in DEADWOOD TOWERS. { MADDI, 26, EST, SHE/HER. }

BASICS

Full Name: Mollie Louise Tanner

Nicknames: Molls

Age: 28

DOB: July 27th

Parents: Lily & Austin Tanner

Siblings: Deceased Sister

Children: None

Hair color:  Blonde

Eye color: Blue

Sexuality: Bisexual

Occupation: Florist

LINKS

pinterest

connections

BIOGRAPHY

tw: death

The oldest child of Lily & Austin Tanner, Mollie is and always has been the light of their lives. She was raised in Heritage Acres where she would never long for anything. She grew up with a love for all things nature, always wanting to be outdoors and the kid with flowers in her hair. This didn't surprise her parents because her parents were organic farmers and bee keepers. She was raised in this life.

As Mollie grew up, she would became a well known person in the small town of Deadwood. Leading as co-captain of the cheerleading team, captain of the volleyball team, and a track star. She proved to be one of the more popular and honor roll students at Deadwood K-12.

When Mollie was 16, she and her younger sister Ruby would be involved in an accident that would take Ruby from them. They were swimming at the state park beach in the middle of the night during the end summer, just the two of them. It was a tradition that the girls had done for years now without their parents knowing. But now that they were 15 and 16, the girls thought it would be a lot more fun to have a drink or two this time around. Mollie passed out on the sands while her sister went in for one last dip and drowned. Mollie hasn't gone swimming since.

After graduating school at 18, her career path was obvious to herself and those around her. No one being surprised when she became a florist at the towns flower shop. Wanting to save up her money as best as she could to one day be able to move out of South Dakota and have a flower business of her own.

Throughout Mollies life she has had a few boyfriend and girlfriends here and there, but has never really been able to stick with them. She gets jealous and overemotional, accusatory of them cheating on her because she is so afraid of getting hurt. She wants nothing more than to find someone who understands her, but her inability to trust often leaves her single.

PERSONALITY/FACTS

Silly little gal who just wants to be loved, really. She is friendly to everyone she meets but her sensitive side is well known around the town and crying isn't a surprising reaction to see with her. Mollie loves to have fun and goof around, a kid at heart really. Which explains the state of her messy apartment.