#thanks for chatting with me Claire! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itsjusthockey · 2 months ago

Text

Maria pt.2 - Jack Hughes

Finally (sorry for the delay)

I hope you enjoy ♥️

Comment, like and follow me so I know I bring value

w.c 2,545 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

“Am I going to have to put tape on your door?”

You’ve barely had two sips of coffee when Claire sits next to you, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, clearly having a much better morning than you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She takes a slow sip of her tea, raising an eyebrow at you. “No? You didn’t have a late-night visitor?”

That causes you to freeze.

“How could you have possibly known that?”

Laughter bubbles through her chest, and she shrugs her shoulders. “I know everything that happens in this hotel. Especially when it has to do with you.”

You don’t bother to try and lie. She knows you better than that, and it isn’t worth it anyway. So you bite and tell her about your visit with Jack, and how the entire night you tossed and turned, thinking about ways to make his life as fucking miserable as he makes yours. She listens, laughs at your misery, and is about to offer some advice when Mat strolls up, two chocolate muffins in hand.

“I heard you snuck Hughes into your room last night?”

You smack your head down on the table, groaning out. “Does the entire world know? And I didn’t sneak him in, he showed up at my door and threatened to cause a scene if I didn’t let him in.”

Mat quirks a smirk up, handing you the other muffin. “I’m just kidding, Claire told me earlier at skate. No one else knows about your sneaking around, so you don’t have to hemorrhage.”

You stay silent. Either way, anger spreads through your veins like venom, and whatever semblance of peace you’ve had is slowly slipping away.

You continue to eat your muffin in silence, and the other pair doesn’t ask any more questions about your night escapades, and you’re very thankful. You don’t want to begin to have to try to explain your feelings. You don’t understand them yourself, and trying to articulate them to others seems almost impossible.

I’m gonna avoid him for the rest of the trip,” you blurt out, interrupting the conversation that had moved on from Jack a while ago.

Claire offers a reassuring nod, and Mat smirks, slightly shaking his head. “Good luck with that.”

————————

Jack is an unwanted shadow, and he fully believes he’s being slick the entire morning. He feigns shock that it’s purely coincidence every time he somehow manages to be within fifteen feet of you. He’s everywhere you are, burning holes in the back of your skull, making you shudder with the reminder of his visit.

In the afternoon, you manage to avoid him like the plague for a few hours, sidestepping the rink and attending your various duties. You’re good at your job, and it’s easy to keep tabs on where he is through the Devils’ Instagram.

Once you stop thinking about him, you feel lucky—truly on top of the world with how the past days have gone. You’ve done phenomenal work, getting compliments from your boss and other teammates, and everyone seems to think that this weekend has been the best for you. It has, mostly, but you can’t wait for it to be over.

You have one last required event, and you don’t even have to work it. You’ve been instructed by your boss to enjoy the closing party and to relax after a job well done.

You try, you really do.

You walk in, your head held high, trying to focus on the task of enjoying yourself. Claire’s by your side, chatting about the people you’ll need to network with, and Mat’s keeping things light with his usual humor. Everything is good, it seems normal, until you feel it again. The tiny prickles at the back of your neck. You don’t even need to look up to know that Jack’s somewhere nearby. You ignore it. You ignore him. You focus on the people around you, the clink of glasses, the sound of laughter in the air.

But every time you focus back in, there it is again. You catch a glimpse of him at the at the edge of the room, eyes locked on you, smirk in place, and a wink thrown your way that makes your skin crawl. You try not to react, but he’s too close, and you need an escape. You throw a smile at your group and give an excuse to step away. Not ten seconds later, you feel him following you—always just a few steps behind.

You take a seat at the bar at the end, placing your purse next to you, praying that will deter him. You try to ignore him behind you as the bartender comes over, but then it happens. He slides up next to you at the bar, casually leaning in just a little too close, his hand brushing against yours.

The bartender mistakenly assumes you’re together and asks for your shared order, to which Jack easily tells your favorite order and gets a whiskey for himself. As soon as the bartender moves on, Jack’s hand grazes your shoulder, pulling away a thread that you hadn’t noticed. His touch is like a jolt straight to your chest. The audacity of it—the sheer confidence he has that you’ll still allow him into your space. You want to yell at him, tell him to back off, but the event is too public, and you can’t risk making a scene.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

It’s a statement, not a question, and his voice is low enough that only you can hear.

You tense all the way to the bone and wish that someone would save you. To your luck, your knight in shining armor arrives. Mat shoots Jack a warning glance as he stands beside you, extending his hand out for you to grab. You see a raw emotion flash in Jack’s eyes, his jaw clenching.

“Alright, Hughes. That’s enough,” Mat steps forward, his voice firm. “Give (Y/N) some room to breathe.”

As you step away, Jack’s cologne invades your senses—familiar, teasing, all the things that make you want to tear your hair out. You make it only one step away from him when Jack stops you, gently grabbing your arm.

“Can we please talk without your guard dog watching?”

He nods to Mat, and they exchange a testosterone-fueled glance, sizing each other up. You know they’re both professionals and won’t start anything here, but the tension is getting noticed by a few onlookers at the bar.

You take Mat’s arm, tugging him away from the stare-down, leading him toward the quieter part of the venue where you notice Claire has tucked herself into.

“Thanks, Matty,” you breathe out, and he gives a curt nod.

You stay tucked into that corner for an hour, and the few times you’ve let your gaze linger, Jack is nowhere in sight. You say a quick prayer for that, and hope he’s counted his losses and went to bed early. You don’t feel his presence, so you settle into the booth and actually try to enjoy yourself for a while. You all talk, laugh, and enjoy a few drinks while recounting some of your fondest memories since you’ve joined the team. It’s comfortable with them, and you settle into a sense of peace as the minutes tick by and the room grows less and less crowded as the hour grows late.

Eventually, you have to pee, and while Mat offers to accompany you, you politely decline and state you’ll be back in a minute. The walk is short, and you make it in without issues, doing what you need to do. It’s a nice bathroom, with pretty lighting and sweet-smelling soap, and for another long minute, you stare at yourself in the mirror, thinking about how happy you’ve been these past few days in your moments without Jack.

Then it hits you. You really haven’t been without him. It’s only been eight days, and he’s occupied almost all of your brain wavelengths. He’s been everywhere, and while you’ve been telling yourself he drives you crazy, in the moments he’s gone, you feel a sense of loss. True, actual, loss.

Maybe you’re just a little tipsy, and that’s why you’re suddenly feeling this way. Normally when you drink, he’s there: getting you water, holding your shoes, and guiding you home at the end of the night with promises of your favorite food, a hot shower, and a cuddling session that lasts until daylight. Though you’d never admit it out loud, right now, you’d give anything to have that back.

When you pull yourself together and walk out of the bathroom, you pass by the outdoor patio that’s full of bright twinkling lights and a few of those fancy tall heaters they use at events like this. It’s empty, save for one figure standing at the edge of the rail overlooking the city.

You know that back anywhere, and as if you’re on autopilot, you walk toward him until you place yourself a few feet from him.

“It’s a nice night.”

Jack swears, and you smile a bit, knowing you scared him.

“I thought you were avoiding me?”

You hum, and he turns to you, overlooking you from head to toe.

“I was. But you make it very hard to fight you. Trust me, I want to stay angry at you, but the cold truth is that you’re an expert at wearing me down. You’re relentless.”

He chuckles a bit. “I prefer persistent.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“You would,” you mutter, crossing your arms. You stare at him for a moment, the space between you filled with so many unspoken things that you wish you could articulate. It’s like this every time you’re around him—he’s a magnet, and you’re the iron, always pulled back in against your better judgment.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” you add, your voice quieter now. “For everything.”

Jack doesn’t say anything, just nods. He’s still wearing that damn smirk like he knows exactly what you’re thinking, and it drives you insane. But there’s something else there too. A softness. A vulnerability, maybe.

“I know,” he finally says, voice low. “And I know I’ve messed up. I won’t pretend I haven’t. I’m sorry.”

It’s a sincere apology, so you take a deep breath and do something you’d never imagined you would at the start of this weekend.

“I need some time. Just… space, okay? To figure this out. I’m not saying we’re gonna get back together, but I’m also not saying we won’t. I just need you to let me think, without trying to influence me. It needs to be what I think is best at the end of the day.”

His expression falters for a moment, like he’s about to argue, but then he stops himself.

“I can do that. I’ll give you space,” he says, though there’s a slight edge to his voice, like he’s trying to convince both you and himself.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

I do still love you, you know,” you say softly, almost as if it’s a secret you’ve been keeping from both of you. “But I need time to work through all the mess in my head. It’s not just you, Jack. It’s me, too. And I can't keep pretending like everything's fine when it’s not.”

Jack watches you closely at your admission, his face a mixture of relief and resignation. He looks like he’s about to say something else, but instead, he just nods slowly.

"Okay," he murmurs, voice a little rough. "I get it."

You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, but you refuse to let yourself soften completely in-front of him. Not yet. You can’t. Not when you're still sorting through it all.

“When I’m ready... I’ll give you a call,” you add, keeping your eyes on the city lights in the distance, trying to avoid looking into his stunning green eyes that will pull you in an instant.

Jack doesn’t say anything else for a minute, just steps back a little, giving you the space you’ve asked for. You finally meet his stare, and his eyes soften, the tension between you easing. He doesn’t make any more moves, doesn’t push you further. And for once, that feels like enough.

“I’ll be waiting.”

He turns and walks away, and a real sense of peace washes over you as you look back toward the city. You know you have a lot to think about, but the world feels a little quieter, a little lighter—like you've just taken the first step toward something new, even if you're not sure what it is yet.

You know you’ll figure it out though, you always do.

#hockey #hockey boys #nhl hockey #imagine #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #nhl x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #new jersey devils #mat barzal #hockey blurb #nhl fic #nhl players #nhl

88 notes · View notes

quasi-normalcy · 29 days ago

Text

Musk remained stony-faced and largely speechless for about 90 minutes as he received a tirade of death threats, jabs at his appearance and slights over his government-slashing agenda through DOGE before he finally claimed he “lost connection.” “You have no real friends and will die alone,” wrote one gamer under the tag @Elon_is_a_pedophile. “You ruined the country just like you ruined all your marriages,” added another gamer dubbed @Elon_Musk_is_pathetic. Musk broke his silence when a gamer said he was “dumb and ugly” and said his electric vehicle company Tesla was “falling apart.” “There are a lot of r*****s in this chat,” he said, using a slur he repeatedly posts on X. At one point, Musk listened to So Heavy I Fell Through the Earth, the 2020 hit by his ex-partner and mother of three of his 13 children, Grimes. “Elon, it’s me,” one person wrote as the song faded out. “Ashley St. Claire,” they added, claiming they were the influencer who in February revealed she had given birth to the world’s richest man’s latest child. “I have no other means of contacting you so I bought PoE2 early access just for this. Please pay your child support. Thank you Elon,” they added. Another repeatedly posted: “I am your lost son, look at me, father Elon.” After a final tirade of “die, die, die,” Musk said: “Oh, we lost connection.” His character was killed in the game and the stream was ended. The stream was later deleted from his X account before being uploaded to YouTube.

Lol, and if I may add, lmao

#us politics

75 notes · View notes

lottiembae · 1 year ago

Text

𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉; alex dunphy x fem!reader

Summary: in which alex asks her family to be normal when she introduces y/n, her girlfriend, for the first time. they didn't do it.

Warnings: fluff.

Note: English is not my first language.

Alex sighed for the sixth time, her eyes glued on the screen with Y/N's chat open. Haley walked into the kitchen and heard her sister, she could see the stress on Alex's face.

"It's only dinner, Alex. Stop worrying." Haley reassured her, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and walking towards the cushion where her sister is. "She met us before."

"Yeah, don't remind me that." Alex muttered, blocking her phone and throwing it at her lap. "This time is different, Haley. It's the whole family." She pointed out, biting her nails.

Haley grabbed her hand, stopping the damage she is doing on her nails. "Well, if she didn't run away with dad, there's no necessity to worry." She tried to light the mood, sipping from the bottle.

Alex let out a small smile, remembering when her dad said some of his silly jokes and Y/N laughed, then her father leaned on her and said that she needed to keep that girl. Alex knew that there is no necessity to worry, not when Y/N had the approval from her parents and siblings. Claire was sceptical at first, someone dating her daughter or any of her children was difficult for her, but after meeting Y/N, Claire adores her too.

Maybe Alex is being a little paranoid.

"You are right," the brunette murmurs, looking at her old sister and giving a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Haley said smiling. "Well, are you going with that clothes?" Alex rolled her eyes, used to Haley's criticism of her style.

"No, Haley. I will change, but if you want to choose the clothes for me,-" Alex was interrupted by Haley excited squeal, not letting her finish and grabbing her hand, the older sister dragged Alex upstairs. "It's my fault to not explain to her how sarcasm works." Alex muttered to herself.

•••

"Alex! You need to pick up Y/N. Hurry up!" Claire yells from the living room.

"I know. I'm grabbing my keys car!" Alex went there, making Claire frown because she thought her daughter was in her bedroom.

"Let's go then. We will see you in your granddad's house." Her mother said, disappearing in the bathroom momentarily.

Alex scoffed. "You seem more excited to see Y/N than having dinner with the whole family." She mutters, leaning on the frame with a ghost of a smug smirk.

Claire looks at her with a raised eyebrow. Alex rolls her eyes and walks to the front door. "Also, you look beautiful, honey!" Her mother complimented her, coming back to the bathroom.

"Haley picked it up." Alex states, pushing her glasses up and closing the door, going to her car.

She drove towards Y/N's home. They are on vacation, and they would pass a period away from each other. Y/N going to a new job to save some money and Alex doing the same thing, they barely would see that summer.

"You have a dress!" Was the first thing Y/N told Alex when she entered the car.

"Really? Almost two weeks apart and you told me that?" Alex said reproaching while crossing her arm, an indignant look on her face.

Y/N rolls her eyes with a smile. "You look beautiful, Al. I missed you." These words soften Alex's features, the start of a blush creeping on her cheeks.

"You look beautiful too and I missed you." Alex said too, in a low voice. Their arms go down and put her right hand on the gear lever, gazing at her girlfriend. Y/N grabs her face between her hands and pecks her lips, receiving a whine from Alex when she separated. "A proper one." She mutters on her mouth, her hand sneaking behind her back and closing the gap in a tender kiss.

They separated after a few minutes, Alex intertwining her hand with hers and caressing the palm of her hand with her thumb. Y/N peck one more time on her lips and hurry her up.

"You don't seem nervous at all. Usually people feel like that." Alex points out, starting the engine and driving to her granddad's big home.

Y/N snorted. "Yeah, like you with mines." She murmurs, Alex scoffs offended. "It was sweet, baby. Alex Dunphy nervous. I will never see you like that again." She said, chuckling and caressing her arm playfully.

Before Alex could answer and give a long explanation, a call from her phone interrupted the moment. She reads the name on the screen and curses under her breath, Y/N looking at her with a teasing smirk. Since she saw Alex doesn't go to answer the call, Y/N presses the green button, gaining an incredulous look from Alex.

"Hi, Ms Dunphy!" Y/N said cheerfully, her eyes never leaving Alex's indignant face.

"Hello, Y/N! How are you? And I told you to call me Claire, sweetie." Claire greets back. They engaged in a conversation, for Alex's dismay. It worsened when Phil, Alex's dad joined the conversation. "Alex, honey I almost forgot. Can you go at home and bring the cake I made last night? I thought Luke grabbed it."

"Oh, I exist again." Alex annoyed said, gaining a slap by her girlfriend on her arm for that. "Yes, mom. I'm on my way." She said in a monotone voice.

"Thank you, darling. Don't be late!" Claire warned them gently and hung up after Y/N's reply.

"She thinks we would have sex in your home?" Y/N asked curious when Alex parked the car.

Alex made a thinking face before getting out. "Maybe you should get in too. I can show you my bedroom." She said in a suggestive tone, making Y/N laugh.

"Nice try, baby. But the first time we make it in your house, there needs to be people. I like the risk." Y/N held her laugh when saw her girlfriend do a grimace.

"Stay here." Alex lowly said and went to her home, letting behind Y/N laughing for her reaction.

•••

Y/N walked to Alex's side when she got out of the car, the cake in her hands. She perceived Alex was nervous, her demeanor radiated it.

"Are you sure about it?" She asks gently, starting to walk to the front door.

Alex looked at her with a confused face but nodded, her left arm finding comfort on Y/N's waist. "Yes. It's... I don't know. I don't want them to make you feel uncomfortable." She half confesses, stopping a few centimeters away from the front door.

Y/N gives her a reassuring smile. "Baby... What would be more embarrassing than my family picking you over me because I'm not that good at that silly game or calling you to ask you if you still are in love with me?" She saw how Alex relaxed a little, a tiny smile on her lips now.

"They are joking when they ask that." Alex said, kissing her cheek.

"Well, maybe I can joke with them just like you joke with my family." Y/N said, seeing Alex nod and resume the way towards the door. She knocks a few times.

Not passed about five seconds that the door opened and revealed a beaming Claire. "Thank you so much girls! Come in." She said, grabbing the cake from Y/N's hands and giving her a quick hug before going to the kitchen.

"Woah. It's really big." Y/N commented, her eyes scanning the place.

"It is." Alex said, closing the door.

"There she is!" Phil exclaimed, walking towards them and engulfing Y/N in a warm hug. Alex's heart melts a little seeing not only her mother, but her father too to have a soft spot for Y/N.

"Hi, Mr Dunphy! Sorry, Phil. I'm glad to see you again." Y/N happily said, correcting herself when Phil gave her a warning look for calling him Mr Dunphy.

They exchanged a few words before the rest of the family came. Haley and Luke approached Y/N to greet her just like their dad. Then, Alex introduced the rest one by one.

"And he is Jay, my grandad." She finishes, seeing her granddad gift her a smile and hug briefly Y/N. It surprises them a little, usually Jay is not a person who shows love publicly easily. Only Gloria and Stella are the lucky ones.

"Hi, Mr Pritchett. Nice to meet you." She said politely, unaware about the gesture received.

"Nice to meet you too, Y/N. Call me Jay, do you? What?" He asked when saw the receiving looks from his family. "Excuse them, they are sometimes weird people." He said in a teasing way, making Y/N chuckle softly.

Then, Y/N's eyes illuminated when she saw Stella approaching, going to greet her immediately. Jay makes a cheerful sound, pointing the scene not only at Alex, to Gloria too, who rolled her eyes and called them to go to sit down.

"I don't know why you are so worried. She has the big boy in her pocket." Haley whispered at Alex, seeing Y/N play with Stella.

•••

Alex thought the same when Haley said these words.

She sat down between Y/N and Luke, meanwhile her girlfriend had at her left part at her mother. They all seem very interested in Y/N, making her questions, something that Claire did ten months ago when they met for the first time. Until her mom, who else, started to say embarrassing stories about Alex, making her blush and shutting her up without success. It's not only her mother, they all joined against her for some reason and recalled the very embarrassing moments about her.

"OKAY! I think she knows all of your stories about me! Can we move on, please?" Alex exploded, throwing her napkin on the table and standing up, walking outside.

The whole table stayed quiet for her outburst. Y/N follows her figure until she disappears. An awkward silence installed, and Claire stood up to go where Alex is. However Y/N stood up and asked her if she could go, something Claire nodded for.

She walked slowly towards the pool, where Alex was sitting with her feet on it, playing with the water. She chose to sit down on her lap, Alex hiding her face on her neck immediately, wrapping her arms on her hips.

"I know for you it is embarrassing... But for me it is really cute." Y/N commented softly, playing with her hair.

Alex frowned, raising her head and letting it to centimeters of hers. "How? For me it isn't only embarrassing. It's humiliating. Some of them I felt out of the family." She confesses, some frustrated tears forming on her eyes.

Y/N softens more, grabbing her cheeks with both hands and looking directly into her eyes. "Maybe, but they treasure those moments because you are involved. I don't think they wanted to feel humiliated. I only see pride when they speak about you." She wipes the tears that fell for her cheeks with a smile. "I can't wait to say this type of thing to our children. God, I'm going to embarrass them so much." She said looking dazed, making Alex laugh.

For Alex, every time Y/N spoke about their future and she included her, forming a family, she thinks she could do the same all again if she would meet you every time. She leaned and captured her lips in a sealing kiss, a promise one.

A noise made them separate and look where it came. Y/N smiled but Alex painted an exasperated expression on her face, seeing her dad with a phone directed towards them, the sound was a photo he took of them.

Y/N stood up and tended a hand towards her, who grabbed it and they walked hand in hand. Cam was a little emotional, Mitchell gave them an apologetic smile. Gloria went to hug them both, the rest quickly following.

"Y/N, do you have a sister for Manny? I don't trust anyone for him. He is too good and someone like you is what he deserves." Everyone let out a laugh for it, less Manny who protested for it. Maybe Gloria said it to distract or not, but Alex thanked her with a look. It means the whole family approves of her girlfriend.

"Oh! I have a story," Y/N said when they separated, walking in. They looked at her curiously, Alex confused. "The story about me and Alex meet. It's so funny." She said cheerfully, clapping with her hands and ignoring the whine and the begging look Alex threw at her.

They all cheered, wanting to know everything.

#alex dunphy #alex dunphy x reader #alex dunphy imagine #modern family

265 notes · View notes

whenmemorydies · 9 months ago

Text

Carmen, Natalie, and the Berzattos

CW: this post talks about domestic violence, addiction, mental health, racialised trauma, toxic masculinity and intergenerational trauma (this show deals with so much friends!).

Go gently with yourself if you choose to continue to read. Also its a long one (longer than my usual!) so fair warning if you're diving in: maybe put the kettle on.

Following on from The Claw, The Scrunchie and The Prayer Card metas (Part 1 and Part 2), I've been thinking more about The Berzattos (represented via Natalie's hair claw in Carmy's apartment) and their presence (seen and unseen) in season 3 of The Bear.

@espumado's fantastic meta on The Night of the Hunter and its use in The Bear, particularly as it relates to Natalie and the struggle she goes through in season 3 has informed a lot of this post. My reblog of that post also contains a lot of thinking that I had started to scratch at but haven't been able to expand upon until now. Also check out @currymanganese's brilliant analysis of The Night of the Hunter in the context of romantic relationships in The Bear.

Another source of information I've used in the research for this meta is this fantastic interview in the LA Times with the cast involved in 2x06 Fishes (thanks @brokenwinebox for sharing it!). Also thank you to @thoughtfulchaos773, @brokenwinebox and @devisrina for the chat about the above interview and discussions about Donna Berzatto's relationship with her son, Carmy.

Finally @vacationship's most excellent breakdown of the roles taken up by characters in The Bear according to Adult Children of Alcoholics ('ACA') roles defined by Sharon Wegscheider-Cruise and communicator types as developed by Virginia Satir has also informed this post.

The Berzattos

Okay so, given what we know about Carmy and about the Berzattos, it would seem obvious that, yes, his birth family is going to impact Carmy. I think its probably so obvious, that a lot of the fandom, myself included, have taken Carmy's relationship with his family for granted this season. To be fair, we were also getting Claire and the Faks shoved down our throats so some things flew under the radar including, in my view, the Berzattos.

What got me thinking about the Berzattos as a source of anguish for Carmy was a rewatch of 3x03 Doors - specifically Carmy's panic attack during that episode.

The first panic attack of season 3

At this late point in the episode, we've been watching Carmy and the crew's slowly escalating struggle with the demands of fine dining, when we arrive at Carmy running expo and calling for hands. His voice is hoarse and it sounds like he's been screaming for some time. His vision starts to blur and as he continues to call out for hands, we see glimpses of what appear to be intrusive thoughts, interrupting Carmy's work and triggering a panic attack. The sequence of shots that appear during this panic attack is below:

I note that Carm appears to be trying to come out of the panic attack by remembering his time at The French Laundry and Noma - much like memories of immaculately plated food helped him regulate during his panic attack in 1x08 Braciole and memories of Sydney helped him to regulate during his panic attack in 2x09 Omelette.

The final thought Carm has during this panic attack - indeed the thought he has when it appears that his panic attack is reaching its peak - is of his sister Natalie, in a church praying:

Note: I'm working on the assumption that the above memory of Natalie takes place at Marcus' mother's funeral. This is based on the clothes Natalie is wearing and how her hair is styled.

Its at this moment in his panic attack that you can see the crest in Carmy's emotions. The orchestral score during this sequence also builds to its climax at this point. Carmy's face screws into a tight grimace and he practically spits out the word, Fuck. Its only then that the music cuts away and we hear Sydney's voice bringing Carmy back to the present:

The fact that thinking about Natalie (praying while she carries the next generation of the Berzatto family) is what causes Carmy's panic attack to peak is what got me thinking more seriously about the impact of his birth family on Carm. ( This is something that others including @mitocamdria and @moodyeucalyptus have also picked up on here and here - the Bear hive mind at work!)

Below is my attempt to map these impacts out, from the perspective of intergenerational trauma, which can be described as,

"the apparent transmission of trauma between generations of a family. People who experience adverse childhood experiences growing up, or who have survived historical disasters or traumas, may pass the effects of those traumas on to their children or grandchildren, through their genes, their behaviour, or both, leaving the next generational susceptible to anxiety, depression, hypervigilance, and other emotional and mental health concerns."

I'd argue that intergenerational trauma can continue well beyond a person's grandchildren, particularly in cases where the systemic factors may have caused a trauma (for example: racial segregation, colonialism), continue to impact on multiple generations of a family.

So lets start by looking at Carmy's mother, Donna Berzatto...

Donna's trauma

I preface the below analysis with the caveat that we are not told what mental health diagnoses (if any) Donna Berzatto has (though she is clearly struggling with her mental health when we first meet her in 2x06 Fishes). The inferences I make below are based on what we have been told in the show about trauma that Donna has experienced.

Recall 3x08 Ice Chips where Donna and Natalie are talking in between bouts of Natalie's contractions. At one point in the episode, Natalie says:

I don't remember your mom.

To which, Donna sadly responds:

You don't want to.

Donna then becomes silently tearful remembering her mother.

Its clear from this very brief exchange that Donna has experienced some level of abuse at the hands of her own mother: Michael, Natalie and Carmy's maternal grandmother. That abuse has no doubt impacted on Donna's ability to parent her own children and likely influenced how she parented them as well.

As a mother myself, I've found that one of the hardest things about parenting has been avoiding the repetition of harmful behaviours that I've picked up through my own childhood. For all of us, the first - and often most memorable - models we have for how to parent have been the experiences we've had with our own primary caregivers (whether they were our birth parents or other adults in our lives). If those models were abusive or violent, we have to work that much harder to make sure we don't fall back on those examples when raising our own children. (And let me tell you, in the heat of the moment when your child is cracking a tanty in the grocery store, it takes A LOT to not revert to learned behaviours and instead take a step back and act from a rational place of calm lol).

For many folks who've had abusive childhoods, raising your own children can also be a very triggering journey. This article goes into a bit of why this is the case. If you've not been able to do any work on yourself or receive help to work through your own childhood abuse, you risk "blowing your trauma through" your children (I've borrowed the phrase "blowing trauma through" from African-American therapist and trauma specialist, Dr Resmaa Menakem, whose fantastic book My Grandmother's Hands has also influenced this post and a lot of my thinking about racial and intergenerational trauma). Given Donna's own history of abuse with her mother, its not a big leap to assume that she has "blown her trauma through" Michael, Natalie and Carmy with each of her children experiencing this in different ways.

There's also Donna's clear mom rage, no doubt built up over years as a single parent, and epitomised in the line from 2x06 (that broke my heart when I heard it because it resonated so much),

I make things beautiful for them, and no one makes things beautiful for me.

Based on the show's lore, up until 3x08 it wasn't evident that Donna had ever taken any steps to try and work through her own mental health issues and trauma. Once we get to 3x08 though, when Natalie says that she didn't tell Donna about her pregnancy because,

I just didn't want all the stuff you bring with you.

Donna replies by saying:

Yeah. I've been trying to put that stuff away.

Natalie then asks her mother how that process is going and Donna responds,

Its not easy.

Natalie then tells her mother that she's glad Donna is trying and Donna says she's glad that she's trying too.

Its not much, but the above exchange points to a slight shift in Donna's approach to her own trauma and to her parenting. This shift appears to have put Donna and Natalie's relationship on firmer footing than it has been in the past. Whether it will be enough for Carmy's relationship with his mother is another question and one I'm sure we'll see play out in season 4.

The Berzattos and Italian American racialised trauma

Other than the above exchange in 3x08 Ice Chips, we have no information about Donna's parents. I assume that Donna was born in America given her description of the Feast of the Seven Fishes (also known as La Vigilia) as described to Richie in 2x06 Fishes. During her description, Donna speaks about the Italian immigrants who brought "their seven best things" with them as if she's speaking about ancestors, not her own generation.

She does not use the first person here:

[I]ts based on people who left Italy to find new dreams and homes with new people. And they brought their seven best things from their sea to their new homes. And not so their families end up being a bunch of fuckin' jagoffs. (lmao)

Then Class A Jagoff, Uncle Lee storms into the kitchen and tells Donna that her retelling of the Seven Fishes legend is "not even close" and refers to all the sevens that occur in the Bible. Which is likely a closer explanation for the feast (see this overview on La Vigilia published on the Italian Sons and Daughters of America website). Notably, it was southern Italian and Sicilian immigrants that popularised the Feast of the Seven Fishes in America.

Given the above, it doesn't seem to me that Donna is a first generation Italian immigrant. Depending on the Berzatto family history, its possible that Donna is the daughter of Italian immigrants or the granddaughter of them. Her Italian ancestry could stretch even further back in time. At this point in The Bear, we don't know.

What we should note is that Italian immigrants and in particular, southern Italian and Sicilian immigrants to America, endured a history of racism in that country before their acceptance into the category of "white" in America.

Image source: How Italians Became 'White', The New York Times

This NY Times article provides an overview of the racialisation of Italians in America over time. The article notes that,

"[d]arker skinned southern Italians endured the penalties of blackness on both sides of the Atlantic. In Italy, Northerners had long held that Southerners - particularly Sicilians - were an 'uncivilized' and racially inferior people, [considered] too obviously African to be part of Europe."

This racism of northern Italians towards those from the south of the country was no doubt tied to Italy’s own racist and violent colonial history, including its involvement in Europe's rabid "Scramble for Africa". In the course of its time as a colonial power, Italy came to brutally invade and occupy Eritrea, Somalia, Libya and Ethopia.

Note: I don't think its a coincidence that, Ebraheim, Somalian "grill master", medic and veteran of the American military intervention in Somalia, found himself working at an Italian American beef sandwich shop. Much in the same way that its no surprise that many folks in my Tamil family ended up in the heart of the British Empire - the UK - after fleeing civil unrest and genocide in one of its former colonies (Sri Lanka). As Tamil writer A.S. Sivanandan is famously quoted as saying about post-colonial migration: "we are here, because you were there."

Once they first arrived in America in the 19th century, racism against Southern Italians continued:

"They were sometimes shut out of schools, movie houses and labor unions, or consigned to church pews set aside for black people. They were described in the press as 'swarthy', 'kinky haired' members of a criminal race and derided in the streets with epithets [that were more commonly] applied to enslaved Africans and their descendants[.]"

Though while Italian Americans experienced the severe racial prejudice described above, particularly during their early history in America, some were still able to benefit from their European ancestry in ways that people with non-European backgrounds were unable to. This included: being able to apply for US citizenship, being able to marry, own property, and choose where to live - things that BIPOC people often faced great barriers (if not outright bans) to accessing.

Notably, in Chicago where the Berzattos are based, the history of Italian racialisation differed to other major cities in America. In Italian Immigrants, Whiteness and Race: A Regional Perspective (p. 6) Italian historian Stefano Luconi notes that,

[I]n Chicago, Italian Americans competed primarily with Polish immigrants, who generally turned out to be less hostile to them than Irish Americans in New York City or Boston, and overall their accommodation within the adoptive society was easier than elsewhere.

Given the above, the Berzattos' connection with Polish "family members" Uncle Jimmy Kalinowski, Uncle Lee Lane, and Cousin Richie Jerimovich appears rooted in a long history of Polish-Italian relations in Chicago.

Note: Ancestry.com tells me Kalinowski is a Polish and Jewish last name. Uncle Lee identifies as "Polski" in 2x06 Fishes and in the draft script for 2x06 is listed as Uncle Jimmy's brother. While Richie's ethnicity isn't explicitly stated in The Bear, in 3x04 Violet, he refers to his daughter Eva as żabka which is Polish for "small frog" and is also used as a term of endearment for girls or women.

Eventually Italian Americans were assimilated into the racial category of "white" both legally and in the popular imagination of the country. This happened in a few ways including via Italian Americans claiming whiteness for themselves, particularly in active opposition to Black, African American communities. This is despite their historic racialisation in comparison to Black, African-descent people (which, in a better world, could have been the basis for shared and sustained solidarity between the two communities). Luconi observes that,

"in Brazos County, Texas, Italian Americans learned to claim whiteness for self-protection, which involved showing off hostility toward African Americans in the mid-1890s [...] By the same token, after realizing the social benefits of being characterized by a white identity, Italian Americans in Baltimore embraced the racist premises of the local political leadership in the early twentieth century and joined two campaigns that unsuccessfully aimed at disenfranchising African Americans in 1905 and 1909 by amending the state constitution." from: Italian Immigrants, Whiteness and Race: A Regional Perspective (p. 15)

The above NY Times article states that in 1892, the lynching of 11 Italian immigrants who were accused of killing a police chief in New Orleans resulted in Italy breaking diplomatic relations with America. As a result of this and to prevent unrest in the Italian American community, US President Benjamin Harrison proclaimed 12 October as "Columbus Day" and encouraged Americans to celebrate the contribution of the Italian Christopher Columbus to the creation of America.

Apparently, this sleight of hand (a legerdemain because it: (a) magically erased generations upon generations of First Nations who have existed in the Americas long before Columbus' arrival (and who continue to do so), and (b) because it vanished the explorer's penchant for rape and enslavement of the First Nations' people that he did encounter) was enough to reinstate diplomatic relations between America and Italy as well as carve out a place for Italian Americans in the white, American imaginary.

Indeed, despite recent calls to stop the celebration of Columbus Day led by First Nations people across America, it is Italian American organisations (including the Italian Sons and Daughters of America) and prominent Italian Americans that are some of those voices leading campaigns to keep Columbus Day as it is, reductively and disingenuously dismissing its critics as attacking Italian-American heritage.

Note: the above views are obviously not shared by all Italian Americans. See below protest staged by Italian Americans in the Berzattos' hometown of Chicago, in opposition to the city's Columbus Day Parade (Source: Fox 32 Chicago):

One of my heroes, Toni Morrison, once said of American national identity,

"In this country, American means white. Everybody else has to hyphenate."

White supremacy operates amongst racialised communities through divide and rule, with these communities pitted against one another, trying to achieve as close a proximity to whiteness as possible. In the US context, that proximity brings those communities closer to what is perceived as "American". The above examples show how some Italian American communities in America shifted the racial categorisation of their community to "white" over time by fighting for that proximity. I would argue that that shift came at a great cost, as all racism does: a cost to the BIPOC communities that were fucked over in the process and a cost to the souls of those now "white" Italian Americans who participated in divide and rule to get closer to a white supremacist position of power. Dr Resmaa Menakem would refer to those costs as traumas for both BIPOC communities and (now) white, Italian American communities.

In My Grandmother's Hands, Dr Menakem discusses the impact of racialised trauma on white people. Specifically, that white supremacy - or as Dr Menakem refers to it, "white body supremacy" - is itself a trauma response. I won't get into the details of this framework (and make this post longer than it already is lol) except to say its fascinating and I'd encourage you to read My Grandmother's Hands to find out more. Its relevance here is to illustrate that on top of our individual, personal traumas, we each carry with us racialised trauma. I make the point of articulating this because while The Bear alludes to race (sometimes masterfully as in this scene where Donna tries to play divide and rule in her own way), it often does so obliquely in ways that are not always obvious to viewers (for example, see director Ramy Youssef's discussion in Variety about the bike crash scene in 2x04 Honeydew). But make no mistake, race permeates this show.

For example, I think about Uncle Lee’s jab at Mikey in 2x06 about the latter living with his mom, and compare this to Marcus living with his mother throughout seasons 1-2 or Sydney living with her father in seasons 1-3. I think about how in many communities of colour, multi-generational living isn’t seen as shameful because the focus is not just on financial dependence but on relationships and care. Certainly, an adult child might not be financially independent but if they are caring for their parent, this is something to be valued.

I think about how the move to individualism (championed by Uncle Lee) away from family and community (features that Italian culture is historically very well known for) is a shift that, for many Italian Americans, may be viewed as a cost incurred as a result of an allegiance to white supremacy.

I think also about the words of Tema Okun, who wrote about how white supremacy shows up in organisational and professional settings in her 1999 article "White Supremacy Culture" and how in that work, Okun noted particular identifying characteristics of organisational, white supremacist culture, including (but not limited to):

individualism;

perfectionism;

either/or & binary thinking; and

a sense of urgency.

Sound familiar? I thought they might. These are traits that Carmy has exhibited in almost every episode of season 3 (and periodically in seasons 1-2). Notably, these are traits that are also valorised in the world of fine dining, as we see it through Carmy's eyes throughout season 3 (in flashbacks and in how he chooses to run The Bear). And we all know how well this shit is going for our man (lol).

I'll get into this more in an upcoming meta (again, this is me manifesting in a bid to force myself to finish writing the thing lol), but I just wanted to point out how both in terms of his racialisation and his professional career, Carmy is immersed in white supremacy - whether he wants to be or not - benefiting from its privileges while also being witness and therefore, subject, to its horrors. No one escapes this shit, not even those who've been welcomed into the fold at the top of the hierarchy.

All of this - the racialised history and trauma associated with the Italian American community as well as the clear whiteness that marks the fine dining industry - makes Carmy's character that much more fascinating to me. Here is a character with seemingly no personal prejudices towards BIPOC folks. He loves the BIPOC folks in his life quite dearly (in particular, Marcus who he treats as a brother, and of course Sydney, in whom he's found a soulmate). I think this is likely due in large part to the role Carmy's siblings (Mikey and Natalie) played in raising him. These two characters also appear to care deeply for the BIPOC people in their lives without much of the prejudice that many who have been racialised and socialised in their community might harbour. And in their roles as surrogate parents for Carmy, they appear to have modelled that healthy and normal (because we must remember, what is abnormal is racism) respect for their fellow humans. They're not perfect in this (recall 2x06 and Mikey's bombastic objectification of Claire) but we do see repeated glimpses of their goodness throughout the show (recall 3x06 and Mikey's kindness to Tina, or the pantry scene in 2x06 and the gentleness he displays towards Carmy there). This is in contrast to their mother, Donna, who clearly has done no work to prevent blowing her own racialised trauma and prejudice through the bodies of her kids.

Also while the racialisation of The Bear's BIPOC characters is readily apparent (because the white supremacist culture of the West is more attuned to looking at non-white people and automatically seeing race), its white characters are also racialised and have racialised histories. The above was my attempt at stepping out a bit of the racialisation of The Berzattos, of Carmy, and of the racialised trauma that they also carry with them.

Phew.

Okay, now back to the Berzattos...

Carmy's birth

Recall 3x08 Ice Chips and Donna telling Natalie the stories of each of her children's births. By far, the birth that appears to cause Donna the most rage, the most pain, is Carmy's. It also happens to be the only birth out of her three children that her (by all accounts) deadbeat husband is present for. Donna describes fighting with her husband during the entirety of her labour with Carmy and that the hospital was fucked because it seemed like everyone went into labour at the same time. She then tells Natalie that Carmy took a long time to arrive:

Note: Its not lost on me that Carmy's obsession with speed, rushing and sense of urgency was almost definitely drilled into him from birth, given the rage with which Donna describes his "slowness" in being born.

Donna then goes onto express how frightened she was and the further difficulties involved in Carmy’s delivery:

It was so hard and so scary because he kept getting stuck, and they just kept having to move me, and I remember they were moving me in all these positions. And then at one point, I think they had me fucking upside down or something.

And then, so brutally it becomes darkly funny (I've pushed a kid out too: it can be so painful, if you don't laugh, you'll sob hysterically lol), Donna describes Carmy's birth as just all around fucked:

The whole thing was fucked:

No seriously, very fucked:

So Carmy entered the world and the experience of his delivery was fucked nine ways to Sunday for his mother. A very difficult beginning to this life for a baby, to say the least. I would go so far as to say, given the way Donna is recounting Carmy's birth, that she experienced birth trauma, and possibly developed birth-related post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

Contrast this with how Donna describes Michael's and Natalie's births:

Despite Michael also having difficulty being born (Donna recalls that it seemed like "he wanted to stay" in the safety of her womb), Donna says that she felt really good, great and strong during her labour with him and that his birth was even described by a doctor as an "amazing" one.

Donna describes Natalie's birth as "beautiful" with Natalie arriving after Donna had had a restful sleep and a vivid, prophetic dream. Donna then goes onto tell Natalie that she was delivered in the presence of a "sweet" girlfriend (Cicero's first wife, Gail) who sat with Donna during labour and who played "Baby, I Love you" for Donna as Natalie arrived.

The differences in how Donna recalls Mikey, Nat and Carmy's births and Donna's propensity in the past for holding her children's "mistakes" over their heads (recall 2x06 Fishes and the story of how Natalie got the nickname "Sugar"), make me think that she was likely to have rubbed Carmy's difficult birth in his face when he was younger. I think that Donna was also likely to have either intentionally or unintentionally (or perhaps both, depending on the circumstance) made Carmy feel less than his older siblings, maybe not as wanted. We have some evidence pointing to this happening in Carmy's past, peppered throughout the show.

Growing up in the Berzatto house:

As a child Carmy had a stutter, which causes speech to inherently slow (as it takes longer to form words and sentences). He was also scared to speak. Now a stutter in and of itself would not make the person speaking scared. Its other people's reactions to a stutter that would do that. Given Donna's vitriol at how slow Carmy's birth was, and her obsession with time (anyone fancy a kitchen timer? this lady's got 700 of them), its not a stretch to imagine that any delay in Carmy articulating himself as a child would have been met with ridicule or rage from his mother.

We know that all the Berzatto children grew up scared of their mother, a survivor of abuse herself, and an addict who drank to excess with clear mental health issues that it didn’t appear she was seeking treatment for. Recall Natalie's disclosure to Donna in 3x08 Ice Chips:

Carmy also grew up embedded in a particularly toxic type of white, heterosexual masculinity embodied by his brother Mikey and "cousin" Richie (who undoubtedly had it blown through their bodies by family, friends and the white supremacist, homophobic culture we are swimming in, in the West). I've previously discussed this in my meta on the use of 90s alternative rock in The Bear and more recently, in this reblog of @mitocamdria's meta Sublimation and Intellectual Orgasms.

Carmy gets called "a weird little dude" for knowing how to mix a drink in 2x06. He gets called a "gayrod" for owning the Noma cookbook in 1x01. He gets called a "soft shitty bitch" for calling Pete instead of Natalie in 1x05. He gets called a "mopey little fuck" in 2x06 for questioning Mikey and Richie right before they accost him with a veritable wall of gross dudebro, horndog descriptions of Claire (a girl they know and are friends with - again, fucking gross). Carmy hears his mother describe Steve as "gay" for being "arty" in 2x06 (recall that Carmy is also "arty" in that he can draw and likes fashion). If you weren't performing alpha-male dominance like Mikey, Richie, Uncle Lee or even Uncle Jimmy, the Berzatto household was a rough place to be. Truth is though, that all of those white, alpha-males have their own demons, and in the case of Mikey, those demons drove him to take his own life. The truth is that, like white supremacy, no one escapes toxic masculinity unscathed either.

We know Carmy suffered from low self-confidence as a child which might have led him to feeling aimless. He tells us in 1x08 Braciole that he got shitty grades because he couldn't pay attention in school, he didn't get into college, didn't have any girlfriends or many friends for that matter. Carmy also tells us in that same monologue that he wasn't "built" in the same way as his brother, who could walk into a room and take its temperature right away, who was loud, hilarious and magnetic.

I think about how for someone like Carmy, Mikey would have cast a long shadow. I think about how hard it would have been to have lived under that shadow while trying to figure yourself out.

It wasn't until working in fine dining that Carmy found his purpose. He says in 1x08,

For the first time in my life, I started to find this station for myself.

This must have been intoxicating and affirming for Carmy. Yet I think about how, after all that, he could return home having achieved accolades and fanfare in his career, try his best in the chaos of a Berzatto family Christmas to diffuse the powder keg that is Donna, and still be called "Michael" by his mother, his very existence in that moment, feeling like a puff of smoke.

We also know that Carmy's eldest siblings ended up being like surrogate parents for him. Mikey almost certainly was a father figure given the absence of his biological father in Carmy's life. Its not a stretch to imagine Natalie as taking on the role of a surrogate mother, given Donna's abuse and how Natalie looks out for almost everyone throughout seasons 1-3 of The Bear. In this video, Jeremy Allen White also talks about the tattoo Carmy has of two angels with a sun in between them as representing his brother and his sister, further confirming the roles of his "guardian angel" siblings.

I think about Natalie, parentified big sister that she is, sneaking a wad of cash into Carmy’s pocket as he leaves her and Chicago for New York in 3x01. I think about her calling him “honey” in that same episode as she affirms that she knows how good he is at being a chef - “honey” being a term of endearment commonly used in family settings but between parents and their children, not as commonly heard between siblings.

I also think about Mikey being born the eldest, the first and only (for a time) to have to deal with his mother's trauma and expectations. I think about how he took on the work of looking after his mother and his siblings when his father left the Berzatto home. I think about how Mikey is described by the actor who plays him, as a "dreamer who's not allowed to dream. He has to take care of everybody."

Loose ends

Another set of incidents haunting spread throughout season 3 also raised concerns for me, in that they remain unresolved and point to a resolution or confrontation for Carmy and the Berzattos in season 4. I named them in my reblog of @espumado's post on The Night of the Hunter. For ease of reference, I'll bullet point them here:

Carmy finds a box labelled "DD" (his mother, Donna's nickname) at The Bear at the end of 3x05 and looks through it. He appears frozen as he finds a baby photo of his mother holding a baby I assume is him. The episode ends at this moment and neither the box or Carmy's reaction are revisited for the remainder of season 3

Cicero tells Carmy during 3x09 that Donna wants Carmy to call her back about "the baby" (one assumes this is a reference to Natalie's baby) and that Carmy has been "fucking avoiding it" (one assumes again that the "it" here is the baby...but maybe its also just the act of calling Donna back)

But then Carmy says something strange:

Yeah. Hoping it would just go away.

Surely, Carmy's not talking about a baby. Babies can't just go away. And I don't think Carmy is so malicious that he'd wish his sister's child to disappear. I also don't think Carmy would refer to his mother as "it" (he's never done so up to this point on the show, as monstrous as she can be).

And in case you were wondering, Cicero's response to Carmy also doesn't sound like it applies to a baby or Donna (lol):

[Y]ou run right the fuck into it.

Intergenerational trauma and legacy

So what is the "it" that Carmy wants to go away? What is the "it" that Uncle Jimmy tells him to face by running "right the fuck into it"? My suspicion is that this is Carmy's baggage. The baggage that comes with being born a Berzatto and being born to Donna. All the stuff that we've been talking about here. Its also the baggage that both Nat and his mother have been trying to "put away":

Above from 3x02 Next: Natalie in conversation with Carmy. "Its not great 8am stuff."

Above from 3x08 Ice Chips: Donna in conversation with Natalie.

Carmy is trying to do this too: put away his baggage, while having been the "Lost Child" (referring to ACA roles and the recording about them that Natalie was listening to at the end of 3x07 Legacy) and the youngest child in his family for so long but now having to be the "Hero". @vacationship's post on ACA roles as they relate to The Bear gives a great breakdown on what the "lost child" and "hero" roles mean.

In the LA Times interview mentioned above, Jeremy Allen White says,

I don't think Carm's ever been outside of himself enough to really take in another person in their entirety, sadly. I think that's Carmen's real struggle.

As the youngest child of the Berzattos, Carmy has never had to step outside of himself to the extent that Mikey, Natalie or even Donna have had to. He has never had to care for anyone other than himself, until he inherits The Beef. And that responsibility is a HUGE one.

But Carmy jumps into that role, initially fuelled by the desire to retroactively fix his relationship with Mikey and fix "the family". Recall again his monologue in 1x08 Braciole:

[I]ts very clear to me trying to fix the restaurant, was me trying to fix whatever was happening with my brother. And I don't know, maybe fix the whole family because that restaurant, it has and it does mean a lot to people. It means a lot to me.

For the longest time, I interpreted "the family" that Carmy refers to here as his chosen family: the crew at The Beef. I think that while that was true, it wasn't the whole picture. I think Carmy was actually being more expansive in his definition of family to include his entire family: chosen and birth.

So while Carmy is obviously trying to make The Bear a success for Sydney ("Syd, we're going to get a star") and for Marcus ("Take us there Bear", "Yes, Chef"), as well as for the rest of the chosen family he first found at The Beef, Carmy is also trying to fix the restaurant for the Berzattos. Specifically, Carmy is trying to do what his father and brother couldn't do in keeping The Beef/The Bear going. He is trying to embody the Hero ACA role, vacated by Mikey with the latter's passing, even though his sister told him from the start, in 1x01:

No one's asking you to.

What I think I took for granted this season was just how much Carmy's desire to repair the legacy of the father figures in his life (as represented by the restaurant) was brought to an urgent and frenetic head for him in the late stages of Natalie's pregnancy. Upon rewatch of 3x09 Apologies, I picked up on some interesting script choices and imagery that I think have been chosen purposefully to relay to us that this is the case and that the impending birth of his niece is indeed, weighing on Carmy.

Now, at the start of 3x09, Carmy may or may not know Natalie has just had her baby. I assume he does. After Marcus watches that clip about magic, followed by unnecessary Fak, Claire and dumpster content (lol) and then Sydney practising how she's going to break Shapiro's offer to Carmy, we cut to the kitchen of The Bear and we hear Carmy calling out orders while running expo. He's yelling again. His voice is hoarse like it was in 3x03 during his panic attack. We see Carmy's intrusive thoughts at a rapid clip intercut with close ups of his, Sydney's and Richie's faces. We also hear Carmy repeatedly yelling at the staff to push:

Please give me the fucking agnolotti. Push.

Lets fucking push, please. Lets fucking go.

Push, please.

Push, chefs! Please! The cook is fucked. Refire, please.

Push.

From a quick google, "push" is used in restaurant settings but not in the way Carmy's doing here. I've seen it used to mean "sell" an item (as in getting a server to "push" a particular dish to diners so they order it) as well as to describe a busy period during service (as in the restaurant is in the middle of a "push").

In 3x09, Carmy is yelling “push” like a midwife at his sister's side while she pushes out her child, the next generation of Berzattos, into the world. But instead of his niece, Carmy is trying to deliver one more in a litany of dinner services at The Bear.

Note: you can clearly see here that the jagged lines that have appeared since season 1 when Carmy is having intrusive thoughts are actually made up of what look to be hundreds of claw marks. I've noted in a previous reblog of one of @thoughtfulchaos773's posts (that I can't find atm sorry) that this evokes Carmy (the Bear) trying to claw his way out of a mental spiral and back to equilibrium. @currymanganese also noted that the lines themselves look like a neural network, driving the point about Carmy's mental state home.

And then directly after the above "push" scene, we see copious amounts of water ejected over the The Bear's kitchen island, washing away flesh coloured food and sauce that looks like blood splatter:

Having rewatched 3x09 through the lens of intergenerational trauma, with the spectre of Natalie's labour, Carmy's apparent resistance to seeing Natalie or her baby, and having just heard his hoarse voice screaming push, push, push...to me this water started looking a whole lot like birth waters breaking, and amniotic fluid flooding The Bear:

Note: Rest assured, amniotic fluid doesn't contain all those suds.

@espumado pointed out in their The Night of the Hunter meta that the song playing during the above "push" and "broken waters" scenes of 3x09 is a song by Trent Reznor and Atticus Finch from a war documentary. The song is "The Forever Rain" from the documentary series The Vietnam War by Ken Burns and Lynn Novick. I'm sure its no coincidence that a song from a documentary about the Vietnam War - a war whose veterans were the first to be assessed for post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) - is being used in a scene acting as an allegory for childbirth, given what we know about how traumatic Carmy's birth was for his mother, and inevitably, for him as an infant.

So why is Carmy so preoccupied with Natalie's pregnancy and the birth of his niece?

I think this all ties back to what Carmy told us in 1x08: that he wants to fix the restaurant (and in the context of season 3, this means making The Bear a success) and that in doing so, fix his family.

Note: which is also why I think we are shown that magic clip that Marcus is watching at the beginning of 3x09 with this bit of dialogue from it: "What makes magic different is that its inherently honest. You tell someone you're gonna deceive them before you deceive them. In some way, that makes it more difficult." We were told in 1x08 what the restaurant means to Carmy and his reasons for fixing it, but Storer and co have spent all of season 3 distracting us with Claire and Fak-shaped sleights of hand getting us looking elsewhere to understand Carmy's behaviour. By 3x10, Carmy's motives haven't changed. He's doing this for his family. All of his family.

Specifically in the context of Nat's pregnancy, Carmy wants to ensure that The Bear is a success for the next generation of Berzatto children, for his niece. And if Carmy is being haunted by a need to fix his family's legacy, particularly given the impending arrival of Natalie's baby - the youngest Berzatto after him - then his desperate, rageful plea to Syd after she brings him back from his panic attack in 3x03 Doors, is even more distressing:

They're going too fucking slow!

What Carmy means is:

I'm going too slow and this restaurant is going to fail because of it. And this baby is going to inherit my failure, just like I inherited Mikey's and just like he inherited our father's.

Remember: Natalie is a part owner of The Bear and so any financial failure of the restaurant will be felt by her and her family just as it would be felt by Carm.

What Carmy needs to realise is that while a brick and mortar institution may fail, what remains are the relationships, the people that he has met because of it (shout out to Chef Terry and her speech in 3x10 Forever, also shout out to Mikey and his chat with Tina in 3x06 Napkins). And if there are people - if there are relationships - there's always the chance to build another future together, again.

Conclusion (yep, I'm almost done)

I think about how whether he likes it or not, Carmy was able to pursue his passion in cooking because of his family’s racial (and class) privilege, particularly as a member of a community that was invited to join in the spoils of white supremacy. This privilege was most clearly embodied by the fact that the Berzattos had the means to own The Beef and the culinary opportunities for Carmy that flowed from that work and experience (contrast this with Sydney, Marcus and Tina's experiences in entering this field, which I've discussed here and which @freedelusionshere discusses here).

I think about how Carmy subverted and used that privilege to bring along the original crew of The Beef with him to The Bear, lifting up his largely BIPOC employees. And then I think about how he ran roughshod over them in order to try and meet the insane expectations he'd set for himself (in large part, as a result of his family's history).

I think about the safety net that Carmy had with Natalie and Mikey who were there to take care of The Beef, their family and their unwell mother, giving Carmy the room to find himself professionally. I think about Mikey leaving behind a restaurant for Carmy but also leaving behind an entire family for him too.

I think about Carmy not realising that while The Beef was a burden in some ways, it was a blessing in so many others.

I think about the clear intergenerational trauma that Carmy is contending with while trying to balance so many perceived, competing demands.

I also think about Donna's dream, the night she went into labour with Natalie:

In this nothing dream, I mean nothing dream. And it wasn't Chicago, and it wasn't New York. It was some sort of hybrid city, you know? And there was a fish tank. Big fish tank in the middle of the city. It was this giant fish tank, and I was the only one looking at it.

[...]

And I remember the colours were, they were so sharp and vivid and neon, you know, and I was the only one looking at it.

[...]

I was just staring at it for the longest time. And all of a sudden, I noticed that the glass started to come apart like it was gonna split. But I wasn't worried, you know? It wasn't bad, because I knew that more people were gonna get to see these beautiful fish.

And then I woke up, and I was sweating, and my water had broke.

When Donna had her children, she had no idea that she would lose her eldest child to suicide. She likely had no idea how far she was going to push her daughter away from her due to her abuse, and she most certainly did not know that her youngest would cease contact with her for years while becoming a renowned chef. None of us parents know for certain how things are going to turn out for our children, or for our relationships with them.

We can only hope, and do our best: do our best to break harmful cycles while trying to nurture children who will leave the world a better place than it was when when they arrived. And if our kids manage to do this not because of us but in spite of us, in spite of our slip ups and mistakes, in spite of our baggage, then honestly, we should be even prouder of them. Because it meant they were able to integrate our trauma, our histories, and their trauma, and their histories, all of it, and make something beautiful, something better.

And I think I can see why Donna wasn't worried when the fish tank started to crack. I get why she was so happy that more people were going to get to see her beautiful children and the world they were going to create, in spite of everything and because of everything.

As usual, tagging folks who might be interested (absolutely no pressure to read this fucking long ass thing though), but keen to hear from anyone who wants to discuss:

@currymanganese @thoughtfulchaos773 @moodyeucalyptus @vacationship @mitocamdria @brokenwinebox @espumado @tvfantic87 @turbulenthandholding @anxietycroissant @angelica4equity @devisrina @kdbleu @freedelusionshere @ambeauty @afrofairysblog @fresaton @hwere @ciaomarie @ambeauty

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #sydcarmy #the bear meta #the bear season 3 #carmen berzatto #sydney adamu #natalie berzatto #mikey berzatto #richie jerimovich #tina marrero #marcus brooks #ebraheim the bear #uncle jimmy

105 notes · View notes

hannahssimblr · 1 month ago

Text

It doesn’t take long to lose her in the shuffle. By the time I have dropped my coat into the cloakroom, she has disappeared. People are picking at slices of her birthday cake. A paper plate offered to me. No thanks.

She’s linked arms with someone way down the bar, laughing, her hair all glossy under the coloured lights. I weave through the crowd to get to her, to… I don’t know. Interrupt her conversation? Yes. Why not introduce myself to her friends? I’m more than capable. Always have been a charming kind of person. Very easy to like. I duck to the side to avoid a group passing, and realise I have lost her. She’s slipped off, folded into the crowd, gone, not even a sliver visible among the elbows and the arms.

No point in looking lost. I order a pint. Bartender recognises me from school, and I pretend to remember her, too. Bizarre feeling to be known again. To be back in a city full of people who remember what I did when I was younger and stupider, rather than the perfectly aloof persona I’ve carefully built abroad. Nobody in Berlin knows I brought fireworks to school, but in Dublin, it’s a story people no doubt still tell when my name comes up in conversation. Oh yes, remember him, and do you think he’s the one who set the toilet stall on fire? To know I am defined by decisions I made when my brain was haywire with hormones makes my skin feel tight over my bones.

Chat to a group of lads by the bar. Arty types, inner city types. Find myself relaxing my accent to fit in, conscious of it. You sound so American. The worst. The idea someone might think I’m putting it on to sound cool or something. Round out those U sounds, Jude. Yes, you’re still one of them. It’s easy to like these guys, easy to let them like me. A slap on the back, another pint, the kind of night where everyone’s on the same page. Still, my mind pulls me to Evie, eyes darting every time a brown-haired girl strolls into my eyeline. Always looking for her. I scan the crowd as I move through it, angling toward the booths.

I join Claire and Shane at the tables, slide onto the sticky pleather seat, leave my pint down among the empty glasses. Someone has left a pile of coats and gift bags on one end of the booth, and as I shift to make room, my knee knocks against it, sending one of the bags slumping to its side. A rattling sound, as something falls out and onto the floor. Bending to retrieve it, a square box, glinting plastic cover.

Jumbo Pack - 144 Condoms

“Jesus.” I sit up, turning it over in my hands. Jumbo. Not a joke-sized novelty thing either, something with intent. Checking, for some reason, the expiration date. Oh fantastic, yes, a good long shelf life. Something like this will last a while. That’s what you want. Or don’t want. I don’t know.

Claire splutters with laughter, half-choking on her drink. “Where’d you pull that out of?”

I hold it up. “It just fell out of a bag.” Lift the bag now, silver stars all over it. The tag dangling from the handles reads Our Sexy Sex Bomb. Hearts doodled around it. A joke gift, no doubt, but still, can’t deny the ambition implied. 144 condoms. “Presume it’s for Evie.”

“Oh yeah, Jesus. I was only telling you her friends were weird, wasn’t I? Like, what kind of gift is that?”

“Yeah, it’s a bit–”

“I know. It’s literally so stupid. It’s not even that funny, just odd.”

“Here, just put it away.” Shane’s shoulders are tense, mouth a hard line. “Hide it under those coats, there. Nobody needs to be seeing that.” He glances around to see if anyone is looking. Red under his collar.

“Look, good for her,” I say, and neither of them laughs.

Irritated by myself, by the slow creep of my own discomfort, I take a long drink from my pint. So what if she’s doing that? Fucking people, being fucked, whatever. As if she’s not allowed to, or something. I scold my inner voice. I’ve been holding onto an image instead of accepting the mystery of who she really is.

It’s a glimpse of my worst nightmare: that I am one of those sweaty guys, so powerless and alienated by male social hierarchies that he must exert control over women as a way to reclaim his dignity. Their clothes, who they speak to, their bodies. I take another drink and think of Astrid, how it’s fine for me to move on, to change, to explore, but Evie…

She’s probably doing it. Look at her there, a flash of her in the crowd. Why wouldn’t she be? What right-minded man would turn her away from him if she wanted him? For a second I think she’s spotted me. Raise the pint in salute, but her eyes drift past in pursuit of somebody else. I drain it and get up to order another.

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

#lucky boy 2012 #a short one today because I haven't posted anything in a while #for me #been busy! not prepped #won't be prepped until at least idk?? Tuesday next week?#anyway #enjoy looking at evie she's an angel

43 notes · View notes

theecholegend · 7 months ago

Note

Hello Echo!

This morning the thought occurred to me: Why do you think Legend's dark world form is a rabbit!

Have a lovely Sunday!

Hello Claire! It's been a pleasant valley Sunday so far! How has your day been?

One of the reasons I think Legend's dark world form is a rabbit is because rabbits are actually Legendary creatures in hyrule. Well, somewhat. Maybe not in all time periods. But they seem kind of rare.

I'm pretty sure when Legend turned into a rabbit Twilight said something along the lines of "I've never actually seen one before." And in BOTW we find the Blupees, which are very magical and legendary creatures, and they are basically rabbits.

So, since Legend is literally the hero of Legend, he would obviously be a legendary creature. Their dark world forms are also supposed to represent their true selves in a way and since Legend is really a gentle soul at heart, he should be a gentle creature

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #asks and answers #thanks for chatting with me Claire!#bunny legend

59 notes · View notes

7-wonders · 2 years ago

Text

I’ve discovered that I really like kickboxing

#I’ve been so frustrated and angry and yoga (my go-to workou) hasn’t been doing it for me #so when I was telling my psychiatrist this she was like “why don’t you try kickboxing? then you can kick and punch stuff’’#and it’s a great suggestion actually!#thanks Lindsey #chat with claire

2 notes · View notes

leviathansshadycorner · 1 year ago

Text

Be Realistic ( Leon x reader)

Short blurb because I'm in a mood - Yes based off of that Britney broski audio lmao Warnings: low self esteem reader, body issues ALSO I LOVE ASHLEY GUYS SO DW DW SHES MY BBG SHE JUST SEEMED APPROPRIATE TO USE IN THIS SCENARIO LMAO

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Rebecca and you sat at the edge of the backyard, both of you sprawled out on the lawn chairs. Claire had thrown a summer pool party, deciding it'd be a smart idea to invite people from work. Ada and Claire were chatting among themselves, sipping away at their colorful drinks, Luis urging everyone to put on sunscreen, and Carlos, Jill, and Chris having a competition to see who could do the best cannonball. Among the partygoers was Ashley Graham, the owner of the house in which Claire was throwing the party.

"She's so gorgeous," Rebecca comments, her sunglasses protecting her brown doe eyes.

"I know." You added, the two of you ogling at Ashley's beauty. She wore a cute brown-colored two-piece, with a metal ring in the front that held the top together, which accentuated her complexion and made her appear like a Victoria's Secret model.

"Hey guys, have any of you seen Leon?" Ashley called out, holding the deflated pink dolphin in her hands.

His name made your stomach twist, and you swear you could've felt your heart pang. The way his name rolled off her tongue was so natural, almost melodic.

"Right here." Leon came out from behind the glass sliding doors. He was the only one still in his normal clothes, deciding he was too cool or some shit for the pool party.

The man walked his way along the perimeter of the pool to Ashley. His muscles showing as he carried the air pump to the girl.

"Dumbass, why did you bring it all the way out here?" Chris commented.

"Easy access." Came Leon's response.

"Thanks, Leon!" Ashley beamed, her pouty pink lips curling into a smile that even made your heart flutter. Leon stood close to her, handing his hand out for her to give him the floaty. She complied, and handed it over, their exchange making your eyes lose their gleam.

"My hero." Ashley was excited, her floaty finally being of use.

Rebecca noticed you from the corner of her eyes. She knew about your little huge crush on Leon. The girl watched as your face crept with sadness- dare she say- disappointment.

"Kind of funny how he's still in his normal clothes." She tries to distract you. "Typical Leon."

You looked at her and smiled, "I know. I was hoping to see him shirtless." The two of you giggled, letting out cackles, Ada and Claire looking your way to see what the commotion was about.

"Why don't you go ask him to take it off?" She teased, turning her body to look at you.

"Hmm, maybe." You said boldly, even though you knew you'd rather fall in the pool and drown than do that.

"Bet. You won't." She smirked, challenging you.

"Pftt I totally would." You played yourself up.

"Then go." Rebecca eyes you.

After being riled up by Rebecca, a burst of confidence shot threw you. It couldn't be that hard right? You and Leon bantered and flirted on missions before, so what difference would this make? Plus it was totally appropriate for you to tell him off about his weird pool attire or rather lack of it.

"Watch me Chambers." You told your best friend as you got up from the lawn chair. You were wearing a (top of your choice) that you brought a size too small to make your figure pop. The shorts that you wore were Rebbeca's basketball shorts that she had let you borrow last minute after you changed your mind about wearing a one-piece.

Feeling confident in your tight outfit you began to strut toward Leon and Ashley, the sun's beams hitting the floor making the cement beneath your feet warm. As you approached you caught a glimpse of yourself in the glass sliding doors. Immediately your confidence shrank.

How could you have been so delusional to wear this out? It looked nothing like the way you pictured it in your head. Your model like posture returned to that of a hunchback as you shamefully scurried past Leon and Ashley, walking along the whole edge of the pool, stopping by the coolers to grab two waters, and heading back to a frowning Rebecca.

Leon and Ashley to focused on judging Chris and Carlos' Cannonballs to notice you.

"What happened?" She ask as she noticed the shift in your demeanor.

"Nothing." You sighed handing her a water.

"(Y/n) we already have water." She pushes her sunglasses up to her head as she stares at you. You take a seat on the same lawn chair.

You whined. "Why didn't you tell me I looked like shit?" It was only loud enough for her to hear.

"What you don't though.." She reassures you as she places a hand on your back. "(Y/n) you look hot!"

You didn't believe it. Surely she was only saying this because as your best friend she was obligated to. Your mind flashed back to the image of you in the glass doors. Your hair was flat yet awfully frizzy at the same time, you stood like a toddler who barely knew how to walk, and your legs looked like they were overflowing in Rebecca's tiny shorts. To make things worse you were sure the chlorine from your previous dip had made your skin look all dry.

You looked around for the oversized shirt you came here in. When you found it you shielded your body from the eyes of the partygoers.

"(Y/n).." Rebecca looked concerned.

"I don't know why I even tried talking to him. I probably look like an idiot." You leaned on Rebecca's shoulder as you two blankly watched the Beefy Brazillian splash into the pool.

"Because you like him. And I'm pretty sure he likes you too." She giggled.

"No- he likes Ashley." You said defeated, your emotions coming out now that you'd made yourself vulnerable. You saw the way those two looked at each other. They had something you wish you had with Leon.

"I don't think so." She wraps her arm around your waist. Smirking when she notices Leon glance over at you two.

"I think I'm just gonna accept my Leon-less life." You said leaning into your friend for comfort. Your eyes occasionally glancing over at an out of place Leon as he shouts at Chris.

"What? You're just not gonna try?"

You sighed. "There's really no point Becca."

She scoffed, "(Y/n)- you're totally out of his league. You can get him if you wanted to."

"Becca!" You groaned, your inner teen always came out when hanging out with her. "I can't. Have you seen the way she looks? She can get him!" You laughed, deciding to find the humor in your failed attempts at love.

"Oh (Y/n) you can too!" Her short hair bounced as she shaked you.

You turned around your hand practically digging into 's shoulder as you stared at her dead in the eye. "Be realistic. Be so fucking for real." You shook her back, your voice that of a goblins.

The two of you laughed as you spewed out nonsensical noises.

The conversation then shifted to celebrity crushes, "You think I have a chance with Josh Hutcherson?" Rebecca lays down on the lawn chair.

"Hundred percent yes." You replied, "What about me and Nick cage?"

"I see that." Rebecca smirks.

"Wait. What about me and Da-" Before you could finish your sentence Leon's shadow loomed over you, causing both you and Rebecca to jump.

"What about you and who?" He asked as he took a seat on the lawn chair you were previously on.

Your heart fell to your ass. "Oh my god you scared me." You and Rebecca giggled.

"You're not going in the pool?" Leon asked, leaning back in the chair.

"You know we were about to ask you the same thing. What's up with the clothes Kennedy?" Rebecca raised an eyebrow, she then nudged your shoulder.

"Yeah, lose the shirt, Leon." You said on cue. A fire growing in your stomach.

"I will if you do." He hooked his hands under his grey shirt as he began to pull it off.

Scratch that. The fire in your stomach was now a full-on Volcano.

#fanfic #xreader #reader insert #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #pool party #rebecca chambers #ashley graham #claire redfield #chris redfield #carlos oliveira #luis sera resident evil #ada wong #jill valentine #resident evil x reader

208 notes · View notes

laurfilijames · 1 year ago

Text

Like My Dreams

Part 5

Intro Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader

Words: 9.9k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Unprotected intercourse. Sex in a public place. Blood, cuts and bruises. Dressing of wounds. Cockwarming. Mention of stab wound and life-threatening injuries. Assault. Threat of rape.

Summary: Right when you and Pete seal the deal on your relationship, more car trouble and a visit from an ex stirs up drama and pops the blissful bubble you waited so long for.

A/N: 😅 this chapter really got away from me but I had the best time writing it!! I had an idea for part of it and pitched it to the wonderfully supportive @ramadiiiisme who encouraged me to go for it and helped me pull it off, so big thanks to you a million times more 💗 The scene with Mrs. Platt was inspired by a conversation with @stealfromthedevil about her dear grandmother who's cheeky words are included in the dialogue 💗💗

The linked song is one I've been listening to non-stop while writing this chapter and is just so lovely and fits in with all the fluffy bits of not only this chapter, but this series as a whole.

---

It had been a couple of hours since Pete had gone home to shower and clean up after the friendly game with the lads, now sitting in his favourite seat at their table watching the Hammers struggle to get a lead against Chelsea, the match currently tied at 1-1. He would normally care a bit more about it, but knowing you were on your way to meet him there had taken all his focus and energy, feeling more excited to see you than bothered that his team might end the game in a draw, or worse.

He slouched against the old chair with his arm over the back, taking a long sip of his beer before setting it back down and licking his lips.

“Oh, come on! Fucking unbelievable!” he muttered at the screen, the referee pulling an outrageous call against West Ham.

Whatever happened next in the game no longer mattered to him all that much, seeing you walk in the door and through the crowd of people standing between you, his smile growing as he watched you tug your scarf out from around your neck and head over to the bar where you stopped to say hello to Terry and order a drink.

Pete stood and walked over slowly, admiring you from across the room as you chatted with Terry for a moment, your smile making his heart nearly stop when you turned and directed it at him as he reached you.

He said nothing, his grin too large to control any words to come through it, instead opting for a greeting he had been waiting all night to give.

Grabbing your cheeks, he leaned in and kissed you, inhaling with a low moan as he felt you melt into him and release your breath, your hands landing limply on his biceps.

A few people cheered around you, making both of you smile again after you parted from each other, but the need to get you alone was quickly becoming a priority in the realization of how many people were preventing him from doing all the things he wanted to do right then and there.

“Hi, love,” he said warmly, the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes making desire stir inside you.

“Hi,” you sighed with a love-drunk smile, the single word a breathy whisper.

Pete bit his lip as he reached for both of your drinks off the bar, nodding in the direction of their table in the corner.

“Come on, gorgeous, we’re over here.”

You were greeted warmly as usual, the spirits of everyone high after the Hammers scored a goal, and with all members of the GSE and their respective partners present to watch the match, little room was available at the booth.

Ned and Ike shifted over to make a spot for you beside Clair and Dave, leaving a space that was too large for your liking between you and where Pete sat in his designated chair, his hands folded together with his elbows resting on the arms of it as he looked fondly at you mixed in with his favourite people.

As much as you loved being at The Abbey enjoying conversations that made your cheeks and stomach hurt from laughing so much, the company that Pete kept people you now couldn’t imagine your life without, it was difficult for you to focus tonight, your mind constantly wandering to how the night was going to turn out just as much as your eyes continued to find Pete’s automatically.

It was like he knew everything you were thinking, his blue eyes glowing with a telling want and his looks loaded with insinuation, every swipe of his tongue over his lips or the way he rolled the toothpick that hung out of his mouth teasing you and driving you mad.

You squirmed in your seat, your fingers toying with the soggy coaster that had been spilled on too many times, forcing yourself to peel your eyes away from him whenever you felt the heat inside you becoming too much, only to steal another glance a moment later, finding him still looking at you hungrily.

The game was coming to an end, and with the Hammers still holding onto their lead, Pete was more than happy to miss the rest of it in exchange for seeing something he had wanted to all day, and as you slowly trailed your hand down your neck to your chest before reaching for the drink you had nursed most of the night, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

Waiting for you to glance over at him again, he watched you intently, imagining your bare form beneath him, pressing his lips against every single inch of you.

Finally, you met his gaze, a sultry look weighing in your eyes, and with a subtle nod toward the door, Pete silently told you it was time to go.

You smiled almost sheepishly, your face seeming to glow in a mix of embarrassment and excitement as you rushed through your goodbyes, your friends all shouting teasing jeers at you in knowing the reason behind your early exit.

Pete winked at you as he shrugged into his tan trench coat, adjusting the collar and tugging it up at the back so it covered his neck, flicking the toothpick he still had in his mouth onto the table.

He took your hand and lead you through the pub with a pride that didn’t go unnoticed by those you passed, finding yourself bashful in thinking that everyone knew what was about to happen based on the look on your face, having to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning and cast your eyes down at the worn carpet as you made your way out.

The door hadn’t even shut behind you before Pete had you up against the brick wall, his hands holding your waist with a claiming grip as he leaned into you and kissed you breathless, his want for you inarguable.

“Let’s go home,” he said with surety, his smile lighting up his eyes when he stepped away from you, pulling you with him with his hand clasped around yours again confidently.

The walk to Pete’s wasn’t long, but was made longer tonight by how often the two of you stopped to kiss, unable to keep off of each other for the duration it took to land at his door.

There was thankfully no sign of Mrs. Platt hanging around to make comments, the time it took for Pete to fish out his keys and unlock the deadbolt incredibly delayed due to interrupting the process in favour of kissing, your bodies now pressing together more closely and your hands becoming bolder where they roamed.

Pete finally opened the door and walked through it, and after tossing his keys onto the table, turned to grin at you and take your hand, pulling you inside with him.

“Get in here,” he said through his smirk, the playful tone of his voice undisguisable despite how much lust showed in his eyes.

He brought you in against him, his lips teasing yours as he whispered, “I need you.”

You smoothed your hands up the back of his neck as you kissed him, melting when he moaned into your mouth as the sensation of your fingers raking through his hair made him desperate for more, the intensity of the kiss increasing quickly.

Within moments you stood naked in his room, holding each other close while playful kisses were shared and hands began their worship, the excitement and anticipation that had slowly built up to this moment stirring within you.

It was clear that Pete felt the same, his smile unable to be wiped from his face each time you parted to look at each other, and as he moved closer to the bed with you, he tucked his bottom lip in his teeth to try to restrict it.

You sat on the mattress, leaning back on your elbows where he followed closely, crawling over you as you fully laid down in his bedding that lingered with the scents of him and you. His smile turned into a sweet chuckle as you giggled too, having him settle between your legs and laying on top of you making you feel unbelievably elated, the sensation of his readied cock resting against your core solidifying the fact that you couldn’t possibly wait another night.

His expression turned serious for a moment as he peered down at you, a soft groan coming out of his mouth as his cock rubbed against you when he shifted slightly.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asked, his voice somewhat shaky with restraint.

You nodded, and spoke with as much certainty as you could have in a moment where you felt on the border of being totally consumed by lust and longing, “Fuck me, Pete.”

He didn’t hesitate, pushing into you with a confident drive of his hips, your head tilting back as you cried out, the stretch of him filling you bare without a doubt the best thing you had ever felt.

Together, you quickly found a pace that suited you both, his thrusts slow and rolling but purposeful, his kisses growing more desperate on the skin of your neck and chest as each minute ticked on.

It took hardly any time at all for your climax to fire up within you, the anticipation of sex with Pete having let the intensity of it lay in dormancy right under the surface only to bring it forth faster than ever, his body linked with yours igniting and awakening every part of you.

You clawed at his back in a signal of your oncoming pleasure as well as a silent plea for more, half of you wanting to experience it immediately while the other half begged to prolong it all.

Clenching around his cock, you couldn’t ward it off any longer, moaning into his mouth as he continued to slam into you in a tempo that sent you to the edge but you could tell was beginning to falter as his climax took him in its clutches.

Your orgasm came through you hard and fast, shattering every inch of you as he followed right along with you, feeling him pulse and swell inside your walls, soaking him at the same time he filled you.

Pete kissed you almost frantically as he slowed his movements in you, savouring every second of being inside you while seemingly starving for more, your whines quieting out in his mouth as his breathing worked to calm to normal.

Emotion overcame him at the thought of never being able to experience this with you, the reality of him almost dying without ever having kissed you or touched you or loved you made his eyes burn, and closing them tight as he parted from your lips, he held your face in his hand and brought his forehead to rest against yours, his thumb moving to pull down your lower lip as you shared more laboured breaths.

You made love again and again through the night, resting between rounds only long enough to recharge, the addiction you had to each other increasing each time.

It was well after three in the morning when you had finally fallen asleep, exhaustion eventually taking over the nagging need for more, the cold comfort of the open window and your bodies wrapped together truly feeling like heaven.

The sound of rain and Pete stirring against you woke you up, making you scoot back against him to get closer to him, his arm that was wrapped around your waist tightening its hold and pulling you in.

He hummed in your hair, his body beginning to wake before his mind fully did, feeling him harden against your bum while his lips lazily kissed down the back of your neck.

A long moan sounded from you as you indulged in the blissful sensation, wriggling against him until his cock was firmly pressed between your cheeks, beginning to rock your hips languidly back and forth until his sleepy kisses turned to warning nips.

“Babe…” his sleepy voice purred in your ear, his lips pulling your lobe between them before his tongue swept along its shell.

“Pete…I need you.” His name fell from your lips in a whimper as your hand took hold of his and guided it between your legs, his fingertips gently stroking your clit until he had you begging for more.

Pete sat up and guided you onto all fours, positioning himself behind you where he gripped your cheeks with his hands to part them while he stroked your folds with the head of his cock.

Despite feeling how wet you were, he was aware how you would likely be sore from the amount of times he’d fucked you already, reaching over for the bottle of lube on the nightstand where he squeezed some out and coated his length until he hissed from the sensation of his own hand and slowly guided himself inside your tight walls.

He watched your hands grip the sheets as he filled you, your fingers relaxing slightly as he pulled back out, only to grip them harder and cry out when he pushed in again.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” he muttered, keeping a slow tempo even though he was tempted to quicken it and destroy you.

He heard your soft hum of appreciation for his praise over the pouring rain, everything you did adding up to drive him insane and make him fall more in love with you, suddenly feeling as if being buried inside you wasn’t enough to appease his heart.

Pete wrapped his arm around you so his hand splayed out over your stomach, applying pressure to guide you to sit up and onto his lap, careful to keep himself locked in your cunt.

Spreading the remaining lube onto your clit with his fingers, Pete began to steadily work you, his other hand holding you up while also squeezing and massaging your breasts, his mouth worshiping the space between your shoulder and ear in an intoxicating way that had your head lulling back onto his shoulder.

Goosebumps erupted over your skin as a brisk gust blew in through the window, adding to the over-stimulation that assaulted every part of you, doing your best to focus on the fullness of Pete driving inside you as you rocked yourself on his lap.

You reached your arm up and around his head, stroking his hair and gripping at him as you rode him, feeling yourself beginning to lose all control but placing all your trust in him to take care of you just how you needed.

Still holding you firmly against him, he continued to strum between your legs, knowing how close he was getting you from how you subtly tried to escape his grasp and your body convulsed to his touch, feeling your hands tighten on his head and forearm that was wrapped around you to keep you in place.

“That’s it. Come for me,” he panted in your ear, feeling you angle your hips against his hand in order to gain more friction on your clit, chasing your end as he increased the power behind his hammering thrusts.

Quiet whimpers grew at a steady pace as they spilled from your mouth, your whines of pleasure drowned out in your own ears as you focused on the sound of Pete’s heavy breathing and the praises he was showering you with, the pouring rain tapping furiously against the glass panes.

You unraveled together, the way your body tightly coiled before turning limp milking out his climax at the same time, his breath fanning out over your dewy skin as he rested his parted lips on your shoulder and stilled inside you.

Lifting yourself off his lap, you sank onto the mattress on your stomach, closing your eyes as exhaustion completely took over you, a faint smile tugging at your lips when you felt Pete follow, kissing up along your back until he collapsed half on top of you.

He took hold of your hand and brought it to rest between your bodies, kissing your knuckles softly until his breathing began to turn shallow as sleep quickly dragged him into its grasp.

These were the moments you knew you couldn’t live without, willing to sacrifice sleep night after night in order to love and be loved like this, the gratitude that filled you at being the one laying beside him as he slept outweighing any desire to close your eyes and miss even a second of it.

You knocked twice on the door before opening it anyway, letting yourself in just as Pete had told you to whenever you came over, the urgency you felt to get inside and out of the hallway too much to handle even if you weren’t allowed to walk in as you pleased.

Pete gave you an amused look, one of his eyebrows hooking high on his forehead as he placed the pen he had been holding in his mouth and reached for another paper to grade off the coffee table, your laughter sparking his curiosity.

“What?” he asked, letting out his own chuckle at your flustered state as you leaned against the door and ran your hand over your head.

“I was just stopped by Mrs. Platt. She told me she can hear us and to keep it down!”

Pete burst out laughing, shifting on the settee so his arm rested on the back of it to face you more.

“It’s not funny!” you argued, even though you were still laughing yourself, shaking your head in disbelief at the conversation you had just had with the crotchety woman in her eighties.

“Oh, it is!”

“Pete!” you urged, as if saying his name would scold him into not making fun of the situation, walking through to the living area where you plopped your bag down on one of the chairs as you passed.

“She actually said, ‘It’s not my place, but do you two ever sleep? All I hear night after night is that bed banging against the flaming wall!’”

Pete only laughed harder, hanging his head back over the sofa where you stood behind it and leaned down to grab hold of his face, begging him to stop laughing before kissing him in order to try to shut him up when he didn’t.

He was still chuckling when you pulled away from him, prompting you to smack his chest as you cursed at him.

“I can’t keep being stopped in the hallway to listen to this poor old woman make comments about hearing us have sex!”

“Ah, she’s just winding you up!”

You turned to walk into the kitchen only to be stopped by Pete’s arm wrapping around your waist to pull you back to the couch that he leaned over the back of, looking at you with mischief in his eyes that made you melt and suddenly not worry about anyone hearing the things you did together.

“Come on, love,” he purred. “She ain’t heard nothing yet.”

“Is that a promise, or a threat?” you asked, smirking as you freed yourself from his grip and made it into the kitchen, filling up the kettle.

“Both!” he replied, sitting back down on the sofa where he resumed marking his student’s homework.

“I need to take my car back to the mechanic,” you explained, shifting the conversation to something ordinary after a couple minutes of comfortable silence while placing a tea bag into your respective mugs.

“Yeah?” Pete asked somewhat distractedly as he focused on his task.

“Yeah, it's been making a funny noise whenever I accelerate, and it sort of jolts when I shift gear. Hopefully it’s nothing major or expensive, they were meant to be the best mechanic…”

“When are you taking it in?”

“Tomorrow morning. My sister’s going to meet me there and take me to work after.”

“I can do it if you want,” he offered, glancing over at you.

“Nah you’re off the hook,” you smiled, “she’s got some holiday time so I’m off duty being Jack’s chauffeur for a week!”

“Ah, look at you!”

“I know, right? She’s even taking him to practice this week.”

“That means I won’t get to see you there then, nothing good to look at on the sidelines and distract me,” he pouted, making you roll your eyes before pouring the hot water into your mugs.

“I reckon you’ll live.”

“Ah, then Mrs. Platt will just get to hear an even better show than normal when I get back home to you,” Pete laughed, ducking when you threw the tea towel at him.

The drive to Millwall took longer than normal due to rush-hour traffic, but it didn’t bother you as much as it typically would knowing you had a late start to your day that had been approved by your boss.

You pulled into the open bay door of the garage, parking your car and stepping out, giving a friendly smile to the mechanic who had helped you before.

“Giving you some grief, then eh?” he asked through a grin, nodding to your car as he wiped his hands on a rag.

“Yeah, as I said on the phone it’s kind of clunking when I’m shifting and the sound it makes when I accelerate worries me a bit…”

“We’ll put ‘er right, not to worry!” he beamed at you, extending his oil-stained hand to take your keys that you held out for him.

He stared at you for a moment, making you avert your gaze slightly, feeling somewhat uneasy.

“Say, you don’t happen to know the Dunham’s do you?” he asked, his question making your head whip up again in surprise. “Steve and Pete? They’re brothers.”

You tilted your head, your curiosity somewhat guarded, “I do, as it happens…”

The way his smile changed and the shift in his eyes put you on edge and raised your suspicions, but you did your best to remain confident, interested as to why he was asking and how he knew who they were.

“I thought as much,” he nodded.

His response took you back, and you blinked quickly, trying to wrap your head around this whole inquiry.

“Sorry, how exactly do you know them?”

He hesitated, staring you down for a few seconds before answering, almost as if he was being careful to formulate a proper response or like he was unsure how much to tell you.

“...We’re old mates,” he said slowly, his smile not leaving his thin lips.

You nodded, glancing down at the embroidered name tag on the chest of his overalls, the name ‘Martin’ one you wouldn’t forget.

“Right,” he broke the silence, his tone more cheerful in disrupting the somewhat tense air. “We’ll have a look at it and likely get it back to you at the start of next week…give ya a ring when we know what it needs and what the damage is.”

“Ta,” you thanked him, giving him one last look before turning and walking out of the garage, heading to your sister’s car where she was parked on the road out front.

You pulled the handle on the door and sat down into the passenger seat, looking out the window into the shop where Martin stood with another man of equal stature, both of them glancing out in your direction.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hm? Nothing, it’s fine,” you assured her, smiling at her as you put your seatbelt on. “Can we stop for a coffee on the way?”

It was a typical Thursday night at The Abbey, everyone gathering at the table one by one as they flowed in from work, a pint and some laughs with mates seeming to be of the same priority for each hardworking hooligan alike as the week started to take its toll and winded down to an end.

“Where’s Pete?” Ike asked, sitting down beside you with his fresh pint.

“Oh, he’s coaching tonight,” you explained, spinning what was left of your gin and tonic in its glass. “He should be here in an hour or so.”

Ike nodded in confirmation as he took a long sip of his beer, both of you drawing your attention to the Bjorno’s as they walked in with a cheerful greeting.

Dave planted a kiss on Clair’s lips as he stopped at the bar to get the drinks in, letting her continue on to the table where she sat down with a sigh.

“Long shift?” you asked, catching the weary look that she couldn’t easily hide.

She glanced at you exasperatedly, “Oh, don’t even get me started!”

“Here you go, my love,” Dave said while leaning down to place her drink in front of her, kissing the top of her head as he did.

You found it difficult to focus on the conversations happening around you, your attention glued to the small group of women standing at the far side of the bar, the looks they kept shooting your way making you feel uneasy.

“Hey, do you know who they are?” you asked Clair, subtly nodding in their direction as they leaned in over the bar to get closer to Vicky, the barmaid, before all staring back at you again.

“Those tarts?” Clair began. “Yeah, they’re mates of Vicky’s. Bunch of slags.”

You nodded, taking it in but still not having an answer as to why they seemed so interested in you, thinking of all the times you had nice enough conversations with Vicky, or so you thought.

“Pete used to have it off with the blonde one,” Bovver piped up, blowing the smoke from his freshly lit cigarette in your direction as he spoke.

Your eyebrows raised high on your forehead as you took in the information, finally having some clarity as to why these women you had never seen before were obviously unhappy with your presence.

“Fucked like crazy for a few months…” he continued, the iciness of his blue eyes holding something of a threat as he told you.

“Oi! Don’t be like that,” Dave scolded him, shoving his arm. “Why do you have to say it like that?”

“It’s true!” Bov scowled, his loyalty to his relations with Vicky clearly extending to her friends over you.

You sighed, trying not to let it bother you, reminding yourself that everyone, including you, had a past, and hoped that whatever issue she had with you would pass soon.

“Right, I need another,” you stated, shaking your empty glass in your hand as you stood.

Just as you anticipated, the daggers coming from across the bar dug into your back, still doing your best to ignore them while waiting for Terry to fix your drink, but that became impossible when the blonde who was apparently an ex of Pete’s slunk over to you and stood far closer to you than you would’ve liked.

“I didn’t think it was true, but here you are,” she began, her accent sloppy from the drinks she had tossed back already, her breath smelling of stale fags and the tartness of the cranberry juice she mixed with her vodka.

“What’s true?” you asked, giving her no more than a sideways glance as you fished the change from your pocket to pay for your drink.

“That Pete is dating a plain, old slag.”

“I’m sorry, and who might you be?”

“I was you only a few months back,” she grinned, her smile vicious and proud in her admission that she had been Pete’s at one time.

You huffed as you smiled, taking your drink from Terry who eyed you up as if offering his help, turning to go back to the table. The thought of him being with someone as vile as her made your stomach lurch, and not wanting to give it any further attention, you ignored her.

“I’m not done talking to you, you soppy cow!” she shouted, her lack of couth on full display to everyone around as a hush fell over the pub.

When you continued on your way over to the group, all of them watching with bated breath to see what would happen next, the satisfaction on Bovver’s face boiling your blood more than she was, her shrill voice sounded out again, making you pause.

“He said I was the best he’s ever had, and I’ll be right here to remind him of that.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the adrenaline making you feel shaky and on the verge of doing something stupid, but instead you neglected to give her the drama she sought and took your seat again, praying that Pete would get there soon.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Dave assured, leaning over Clair who had already offered to fight her twice. “It wasn’t that serious…”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” you assured, hoping it sounded genuine or at least believable.

“I mean, they were at it together for a few months…” Keith added in, earning a scolding from both Dave and Swill, making you swallow thickly.

You took a long sip of your drink as you tried to tune out the sound of the lads bickering and the jeers still coming in your direction from across the bar, your eyes closing as you tried to slow your breathing.

After a couple more minutes, you stood and made your way through the bar to the loo, praying no one would follow you, your newfound enemies calling you names as you passed.

Pete finally made it to the pub, strutting through the crowd and desperate for a beer after a long day at work and then coaching out in the cold rain, the sight of his ex leaning what she thought was invitingly against the bar making him scowl as he passed.

When there was no sight of you at the table, he did a quick glance around, distractingly returning everyone’s greetings as he shrugged out of his jacket and sat.

“Oi, what’s she doing here?” he asked Dave, nodding over in the direction of the bar where they continued to stare over at him.

Dave shook his head, “They’ve been causing trouble, pal.”

Seeing Pete’s face fall into worry as he looked around for you again, Dave continued. “She’s in the toilets, she seemed a bit upset…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Pete muttered, standing and going through the pub in quick strides, not giving his ex even a glimpse as he passed.

He pushed open the door to the ladies room more aggressively than he intended, his anger at the situation and that cheap tart upsetting you getting to him, his anger quickly turning to surprise when he saw you standing in front of the tarnished mirror reapplying your lip gloss, appearing fine and unbothered.

“Can I help you?” you grinned, watching him in the mirror with unhidden amusement at his presence.

His head tilted a bit to the side, walking toward you slowly while still assessing you, his concern still creasing his features even though he was smiling back at you.

“They said you were upset…”

You laughed and shook your head, screwing the cap back on your lip gloss before sticking it in your pocket, turning to look at him directly instead of in the mirror, your bum sitting on the edge of the sink.

“Upset? Over those twats? Come on…” you shrugged, trying your best to play it cool even though it had bothered you more than you were letting on.

Pete closed the space between you and leaned his forehead against yours, still searching your eyes for any hints of you being hurt or shaken up.

You let your eyelids close, instantly feeling relaxed from him being close to you, breathing in deeply when he brought his hands up to hold your face.

“We all have a past, Pete,” you whispered, saying it more for your own conviction than his, the frustrated exhale he let out at his past involving that awful slag fanning over your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his lips moving against yours as they hovered there, teasing a kiss.

“Don’t be sorry,” you answered, your hands trailing up his chest where you took hold of the collar of his jumper and slid the material through your fingers, his body moving closer to yours. “Just kiss me, Pete.”

He did, crashing into you so hard your head was forced back but stopped by his hands still gripping your face, his tongue delving into your mouth hungrily and greedily where you didn’t hesitate to match his fervor.

Everything was rough and desperate, kissing with a need to prove that each other’s lips were the only ones ever worth kissing, your hands pawing and groping in a crazed act of passion.

Pete’s fingers tore at the button and zipper of your jeans before diving his hand inside them, his long fingers stroking through your folds until your wet coated them, your moans reverberating in his mouth as you continued to kiss, your lips moving against each other sloppily and hastily.

After a minute, he withdrew from you, roughly tugging your jeans and panties down your thighs, his steely eyes staring at your exposed cunt as he quickly unfastened his own jeans and pulled out his hard cock before crashing against you again.

You spread your legs as wide as you were able to, giving him enough access to your core where he guided his leaking head, smearing his precum on your clit a few times until you were moaning and begging him to fill you.

Pete happily obliged, pushing inside your tight walls where he paused once he couldn’t go any deeper, kissing you frantically and groaning into your mouth from how good you felt.

Like he lost all sense of control, he slammed in and out of you, fucking you hard and fast while his mouth hung open and panted against yours in his efforts, the sink creaking precariously as you rocked your hips in time with his brutal thrusts, your fingers digging into the back of his neck and shoulders as you held on tight.

You were both so entranced in each other that neither of you noticed the door opening, his ex standing in the doorway in shock of the scene she walked into, scoffing as she turned and left.

“Fuck, babe,” he growled, pulling his face away from yours slightly where he watched his cock slide in and out of you, the sight encouraging him to move even more furiously within you, your cries growing louder as your climax quickly built up.

“Pete!” you bellowed, a desperation in your voice that told him you were on the brink, and knowing you were at risk of screaming as you came, he covered your mouth with his and proceeded to pound you mercilessly, swallowing your noises of unbridled pleasure as you clenched and shuddered on his cock.

Only seconds behind you, Pete bucked into your soaked cunt until he pumped you full of his hot spend, feeling it leak out of you as he continued to slowly thrust, drawing out every moment of your highs that he could.

You laughed as you comprehended what just happened, smoothing your hand over your head as your chest rose and fell sharply, Pete chuckling as a mischievous and prideful look dressed his flushed features.

“It’s impossible to get enough of you,” he admitted, his eyes flickering over your face as he leaned his arms against the sink, caging you in.

You hummed appreciatively, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, kissing him long and slow and in a way you hoped conveyed everything you felt for him.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked when your kiss slowed to a pause, the blue of his eyes more vibrant and full of emotion.

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling at him softly while your finger traced the crease beside his mouth.

“Okay, darling,” he cooed, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as he inhaled deeply, his face moving into the side of your neck where he pressed kisses into the sensitive skin and made you squirm and giggle.

Stopping, he brought his face back up to look at you, his expression serious again, his hand finding yours where he laced your fingers together and gave it three gentle squeezes.

“You know you’re the only one I want, yeah?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand back three times, smiling bigger as his own grew.

“I do, though I wouldn’t mind you showing me again…”

“Careful what you wish for!” he laughed burying his face into your neck again where he nipped and sucked at your skin, your laughter echoing against the tiled walls.

Pete walked out of the bathroom with you confidently after cleaning up and composing yourselves, even happier to see that his ex and the rest of Vicky’s horrible friends had left, the expressions on everyone’s faces as you sat back down at the table telling you they knew exactly what you had been up to.

“Oi, that colour suits you, mate,” Ned commented, pointing to his lips as he stared at Pete’s that were tinted from your lip gloss.

“Yeah? It’d suit yours too,” Pete said, leaning over and planting a kiss on Ned’s cheek quickly before he pushed him away, cursing and wiping his cheek dramatically.

Pete laughed as he took his seat, downing his pint that had been waiting for him to return to, leaning back in his chair where he pulled you onto his lap to have you proudly perch, the atmosphere more relaxed and as it normally was.

Red dripped into the sink one drop at a time, flowing steadily from so many places on his hands and face he wasn’t even sure where it was all coming from.

Pete tugged more tissues out of the box, bunching them up and holding them to what he thought was the deepest cut on his chin with as much pressure as he could, the ache in his hand preventing him from doing a sufficient job. He didn’t think he’d cracked on that Zulu cunt as hard as he did, but his knuckles proved otherwise, split open what felt like to the bone.

Any effects the pints in his bloodstream had provided him had definitely worn off now, his head pounding and every cut on him stinging and burning like mad, the severity of each fresh injury hard to determine as he looked at himself in the mirror through one good eye, the dark, puffy welt spreading up to his other from his cheek.

He stood with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his blood and sweat-stained clothes discarded in a heap on the floor, his reflection revealing bruises on his side and abdomen that refused to be ignored when he had lifted his jumper over his head.

It was late, and as quiet as he tried to be, Pete knew better than to think you wouldn’t have heard him come home, your inability to stay asleep for long without him something he secretly loved and made him swell, always feeling equally as eager to get back home and in bed with you.

“Hiya, love,” he muttered, smirking at you in the mirror when you appeared in the doorway, your sleepy face quickly changing to shock when you saw the state of him.

“I’m fine!” he stressed, knowing what your next words were going to be, the worry on your face breaking his heart a little.

“Pete…” you whispered, not in an accusatory or scolding way, but out of sheer love and care, your hands cupping his cheeks gently despite getting blood on them, your eyes searching his for truth in his claim of being okay.

“Fucking Zulu’s…” he trailed off, a small laugh blowing out of his lungs.

Never once had you asked him to stop fighting, and he knew you wouldn’t now, taking the aftermath of his hobby on the chin just like he did multiple times tonight, his love and appreciation for you making him feel a bit emotional as he watched you open the cupboard and get out the first aid kit to tend to his wounds.

He blinked back the moisture that had quickly accumulated in his eyes before you were facing him again, closing them when you pressed a careful kiss to his bloody lips, letting out a long sigh when you pulled away.

“Sit so I can see better,” you instructed, your voice soft and soothing to his ears.

Pete turned and stepped toward the tub, perching on the edge of it so he faced the sink for you to work, watching the deep red spots staining it dilute into a rusty colour as water ran from the tap and washed his blood off the porcelain.

Carefully, and for as long as it would take, you gently cleaned all of his wounds, wiping the blood that had dried and stuck in his blond stubble and dabbing the cuts that still oozed, your touch becoming lighter whenever you noticed a wince that involuntarily snuck past his attempts to hide them.

Luckily, nothing needed stitches, and even though Pete knew you were done cleaning and disinfecting each cut he’d sustained, you continued to linger, admiring his bruised and battered features.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you close to him, letting his face lean into your stomach, breathing deeply as you raked your fingers up his bare back and through his hair. His shoulders relaxed, letting go of the tension held in them from taking the painful sting of peroxide seeping into his cuts over and over, his hands smoothing up your bare thighs and your bum.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” you whispered, your lips pressing against his scalp.

He hummed, pulling his face away from the warmth of your body in his sweater.

“Yeah. C’mere,” he offered, shifting slightly so your legs had room to straddle him.

You seated yourself on his lap, smiling when his own broke out on his damaged face, your back arching into him when he placed his hands under his sweater that you had now worn more times than him to card up your back.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, admiring you for a moment before kissing you softly, his nose moving back and forth on yours a couple of times before nudging your cheek, resting his face against it while he closed his eyes and breathed slowly.

“You’re welcome, love,” you cooed, your fingers ghosting over the back of his neck, making him melt into you even more.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he spoke, mostly to himself, still finding it hard to believe that he had been lucky enough to survive his injuries and then have you walk into his classroom that one morning.

Pete kissed your cheek once, then again, each press to your soft skin urging him to add another and then more after that, eventually meeting your lips with his until minutes had passed with you lost in the haze created by your slow kisses.

His hands held your back firmly, keeping you close to him and preventing you from falling back as he moved his head away from yours and looked at you in a way that made you want to show him that the love you had for him existed like no other.

“I love you,” he professed, as if he had stolen the words right out of your mouth. Those three words were spoken with a calm surety that held such truth there was no way you could deny or question it, your fingers trembling against his cheek as you trailed them along the crease that flanked his lips.

“I love you, too, Pete.”

The taste of blood transferred onto your tongue again as he crashed into you, kissing you with more ardor than ever before, the relevancy of the cuts on his lips no longer a concern to either of you.

Your hands slipped around the back of his neck, pulling him into you even more to deepen your kiss, your hips rolling against his just enough that you could feel his cock hardening, your bare core grinding on the somewhat rough material of the towel separating you.

Pete moaned into your mouth, and without stopping kissing you, leaned back enough to unwrap the fold of the towel from his waist, letting it fall open under him.

His hands slid under your thighs, guiding you to lift your hips in order to get on top of his cock, breaking your kiss to watch your face as you sank down on his length.

Before you even had the chance to start riding him, Pete ran his battered hands over your hair, his eyes holding as much softness as his voice did.

“Just be still for me, yeah?” he asked, wanting to savour the intimacy of being inside you unmoving.

You nodded, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, closing your eyes as his nose brushed against yours before capturing your lips again, your hand resting on his chest where you could feel his heart beating wildly.

You would have been kidding yourself if you said you weren’t feeling a bit uneasy about going to pick up your car alone, the conversation you had had with the mechanic, Martin, when you dropped it off still fresh in your mind.

Pete was unable to take you, having to coach a practice after work, and your sister was taking Jack to it and staying to watch since she always missed so many, leaving you to take the tube over to Millwall to deal with it on your own.

You assured yourself over and over that it would be fine and that you were probably reading into things too much, but still the way he had mentioned knowing Steve and Pete and claiming to be old mates with them wasn’t sitting right with you. With work being so busy this week, you had completely forgotten to mention it to Pete, and you cursed yourself for failing to bring it up when you had checked with him again that morning if he was sure he couldn’t get someone else to coach for him.

As the stops to Millwall grew closer and closer, you did your best not to dwell, reading the book you brought with you while your leg bounced up and down unconsciously, your eyes scanning over the same paragraph again and again without being able to absorb the words.

“Alright, good job, lads!” Pete shouted after blowing his whistle, signaling the end of their practice.

He held the bag open for them to toss their soiled jerseys in, laughing at all their comments to each other and how supportive they all were of their teammates.

“Eh, Jack, will you help me gather up the pylons?” he asked when your nephew had made it over to him in the queue of rowdy boys.

As Pete knew he would, Jack happily jogged around the pitch and collected the majority of them, saving Pete and his leg the trouble of going to do it all himself.

“Cheers, mate,” Pete thanked him, ruffling his hair as he walked with him over to where his mum stood waiting.

“Great practice, love!” She praised her son, then smiled at Pete as Jack worked at untying his cleats and taking off his shin guards. “Reckon she’ll be back from Millwall soon, then?” she said, glancing at the watch on her wrist.

“Millwall?” Pete asked, his face screwed up at the mention of his rivaled district.

“Yeah, that’s where the mechanic is she took her car to.”

“What’s the garage called?” he questioned, an urgency present in his voice as he reached in the pocket of his jacket for his phone.

“I don’t know, I didn’t look when I had dropped her off and she never mentioned it…is everything okay?”

“Hmm, yeah,” Pete lied, trying to settle the rising panic he felt inside him at the thought of the garage you took your car to for repairs being Tommy fucking Hatcher’s.

He hit the button to dial your number and held it up to his ear, pacing as he listened to ring after ring before the sound of your voice came through, his heart falling when it was only your voicemail picking up.

“Fuck-” he hissed, hanging up before redialling, praying you would pick up and tell him you weren’t alone at Tommy’s garage.

The bell that chimed when the door opened sounded ominous tonight as you stepped through it, the smell of oil and exhaust fumes hitting your nose heavily, the distant sound of the radio and tools clanking against metal filling the otherwise quiet shop.

Your car was parked out front, seemingly ready to drive off in, and you hoped to settle the bill and get your keys quickly so you could make your way back to see Pete, wanting this day and especially this exchange to be over and done with.

Glancing through the window that looked into the garage from where the little waiting area was, you could see Martin bent over the bonnet of a car, and behind him, a small office where who you assumed was the owner sat at his desk.

When neither man noticed your presence, you stepped through into the bay, careful your heels didn’t slip on the greasy floor.

The man in his office finally caught sight of you, grinning with a somewhat villainous smile that split his hardened features, and you thought no matter how friendly he tried to appear, there was something about him that seemed impossible to soften.

“Hello, love,” he greeted, his voice matching his looks.

“Hi, sorry,” you stammered, “I’m just here to get my car.” You hooked your thumb and pointed over your shoulder in the direction of where it sat outside, planting your feet firmly on the cement floor while doing your best to stand tall and confident.

“Yeah, not a problem, I’ve got the paperwork all here for ya,” he explained, standing from his chair and turning to reach for some papers from the filing cabinet behind him.

Martin nodded as you walked past him to enter the office, giving you a curt ‘Evening,’ as you smiled weakly in return.

The man seemed to fill the entire space of his office, his form tall and broad, his personality giving off a powerful air that made you feel somewhat suffocated.

There were empty beer bottles on his desk, and scattered across the walls and cabinets that took up nearly every square inch of the small room were various pieces of Millwall F.C. paraphernalia.

“You a fan?” he asked, catching you looking at the poster of the crest hung on the wall beside him.

“Erm, no, I don’t really pay attention to football all that much,” you lied, the realization that this man was clearly a huge supporter of the club that was Pete’s sworn enemy making you want to avoid the topic altogether.

“No?” he questioned, his head tilting to the side as another vicious smile revealed his teeth. “Not even a fan of the mighty Hammers?”

The way he said it made your blood turn cold, and you swallowed thickly, thinking how Martin must have discussed your affiliation to West Ham United through knowing Pete and Steve, and you wondered if these men were members of Millwall’s infamous firm.

You shook your head and huffed out a false laugh, reaching into your purse for your wallet.

“No,” you repeated, hoping he didn’t press his inquiry any further.

Clearing your throat to ensure your words came out properly, you started filing through the stack of notes you had taken out of the bank that morning, counting out what you had been told the total was going to be for the repairs.

“It was £450, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed, watching as you placed the money on his desk, folding his arms across his chest.

“You sure you aren’t running about and singing along to ‘Forever Blowing fucking Bubbles’ then?”

You scoffed, trying your best to look like you hadn’t heard or even sang that song more times than you could count since meeting Pete.

“Ah, I see,” he said, slowly. “So you’re going to lie right to my face and tell me you’re not Pete Dunham’s missus, are ya?”

You almost choked, words unable to form on your tongue that felt too big for your mouth, the air in your lungs feeling trapped while everything around you started to distort as a dizziness overcame you.

“How…how do you know that?”

He pointed his finger at you, his lips still curled into a smile. “See, I knew you were lying to me, you little slag.”

You stepped back as he walked around his desk, his blue eyes icy with an evil you had never seen before.

“Don’t you think you’re going anywhere anytime soon, love,” he grinned, sitting on the edge of his desk as he nodded behind you. “Martin there hates your little boy toy just as much as I do, so he won’t be letting you run past him too easily either.”

You kept still, taking in as deep a breath as you could, closing your eyes briefly to gain some courage as you thought of which of the many questions racing through your mind to ask next.

“How do you know who I am?” your voice squeaked out, unable to hide your fear.

He shrugged his shoulders and frowned, “I get people to find things out for me.”

“Right, I’d just like to get my keys and leave, I don’t want any trouble-”

“You’re missing the fucking point, here!” he shouted, cutting you off. “Didn’t little Petey warn you about me?”

You shook your head again, confused as to who this man even was to Pete. “No, I-”

“Was he too afraid to come with you, not man enough to protect you?”

He stood from his desk, walking closer to you until you were face to face and your back was pressed against a cabinet, leaving you nowhere to escape.

“Is the taste of death still too fresh for him?” he laughed, clearly amused in seeing you put it all together.

“You’re-”

“Yeah, that’s right, darling,” he cooed, his face so close to yours you could smell the stale beer and smoke on his putrid breath. “I’m Tommy Hatcher. The man who nearly wiped out the Dunham name.”

He seemed so proud of it, like the memory was something he revisited often, and you felt sick knowing you were standing vulnerable at the hands of the man who almost killed the one you couldn’t live without.

“It’s funny, innit? That out of all the garages in London to get your car fixed, you came to mine.”

His finger jabbed into your chest with each word, making you recoil to try to make space between you, only to press yourself harder into the cabinet.

“You’re vile,” you spat, shoving your arm against his chest to push him away from you, only to have him come back stronger and closer than before.

He gripped your chin with his meaty hand, his fingers digging into your skin so hard it made you yelp.

“I’ve been watching you for weeks now. You should really pay more attention to your surroundings, love,” he warned, the pleasure he took in this written all over his grisly face. “How’s that nephew of yours, by the way?”

Bile rose up your throat at the idea of him getting to Jack and causing him harm, the lengths this horrible, soulless man would go to to make anyone he hated suffer having no limit.

“He seems like a good lad,” he whispered, his mouth hovering beside your ear where his hot breath made your skin crawl and you squirm in his grasp. “It’d be a fucking shame if he didn’t make it past his twelfth birthday just like my son didn’t.”

“You wouldn’t!” you cried, trying to move your legs enough to kick him, only to have his body lean harder into yours to stop you.

“See, you’re forgetting what I’m capable of. How easy it was to drive that bottle into Stevie’s neck and how much fucking joy I got breaking Petey’s body until he was lifeless on the ground.”

His grip tightened on your face as his eyes scanned over you, and despite your efforts to not let it happen, tears sprang from your eyes at the description of him trying to kill Pete.

“Don’t think it wouldn’t be hard to do the same thing to you or that little boy.”

With all the strength you had, you pushed against him, hitting him as hard as you could in his stomach while stomping hard on his foot, but Tommy was too strong, slamming you back into the cabinet so the handle drove into your ribs and all the air in your lungs was knocked out of you.

He laughed in your face, locking his forearm across your neck to keep you in place, your struggle to breathe seeming to satisfy him.

“I could do anything I wanted to you right now and no one would know or be able to stop me,” he bragged, growing more aroused with the power he held over you.

He ground himself against you, making you feel his hardness through his trousers, the possibility of you actually being sick between that and the lack of oxygen becoming more and more likely.

“It’s funny, you've got the same look of terror in your eyes as he did right before I smashed his fucking face in!” he pointed out, his laughter ringing through the room like you had just shared a joke together.

Within a split second his demeanor changed again, glaring at you seriously as his voice quieted and turned calm.

“See, I could rape you, ruin you so he’d never want to touch you again...”

You let out a broken sob, your eyes screwing shut when you felt his other hand travel slowly down your waist until he reached your thighs, stopping when he spoke again.

“But it’s lucky for you I’m a changed man.”

Tommy loosened the force of his arm against your neck, backing away from you slightly, and ran a hand over his hair to regain some composure.

“Don’t wanna be stuck in the nick again over someone as pitiful as you and your precious Petey!” he barked, adjusting himself in his pants crudely while you shook against the cold, metal cabinet.

He reached for something on his desk, turning around and quickly throwing your keys at your face where they missed and hit you hard in the chest, making you jump and cry out which only made him howl a maniacal laugh.

“Go on, you shitcunt,” he spat, “go home to Petey and cry all about it to him!”

You stooped and grabbed your keys off the grimy floor with a trembling hand, bolting out the door as fast as your legs would carry you, the sound of his and Martin’s laughter chasing you out of the building where you pressed the button to unlock your car as quickly as possible.

The tears didn’t come until you were out of the lot and onto the road, the lights from passing cars blurry and blinding as you finally let out wracking sobs, unaware of how fast you were going or which roads you were turning down, getting as far away from Tommy Hatcher as you could the only thing on your mind.

---

Part 6

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment if you enjoyed this story! 💗

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist please comment or send a DM.

Taglist:

@theesirenteller @inbar-thomas1980 @lilac13 @stealfromthedevil @ramadiiiisme @rhoorl

#pete dunham #green street hooligans #pete dunham smut #pete dunham x female reader #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam characters #pete dunham x reader #green street hooligans fic #pete dunham fic

207 notes · View notes