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#the prospect of not knowing anyone at all in the city makes me want to puke
leilakisakabiri · 8 months
Note
Can I request something with Gavi being barely even home resulting to reader feeling lonely and empty? A fluffy ending please! Gracias a todos!
You're Losing Me (Gavi)
Summary: You and Gavi's relationship is slowly falling apart - and neither of you know how to save it.
Warnings: Angst. Toxic behavior. 
A/N: This request literally revived me so thank you. I’m so excited to write angst hopefully you like it! Also thank you guys for 1k notes on Surprise, here’s my gift to you. Please send requests!
Word count: 6.8k+
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It was the fourth Tuesday in a row that you ate alone in your apartment. The fourth time Gavi had skipped out on your plans last minute, sending a quick half-hearted text about one event or the other.
The first time it was because Coach had asked Gavi to stay after practice, keen on teaching him the perfect one-touch shot. Then it was a missed dinner because Jordi Alba had invited him out with some other players, and he just couldn’t say no, because he was finally starting to feel like a part of the family - like the older players had finally started to respect him.
Of course you hadn’t minded the first few times, he had been apologetic enough, promising you that he would be there next time, but each next time took on the next week, and soon the prospect of next time didn’t hold as much meaning anymore. You were accustomed to reading those words by now, and you rarely took time to read over the dwindling text messages anymore, eyes only scanning for those two words, the ones that had become a staple in your relationship.
Next time.
Next time you would cook dinner for him and he would be there to eat it. Next time he would tell you he loved you in person, rather than getting an impassive ‘sorry cariño’. The thought of next time, which once seemed like a lifeline to you, had become a dull reminder of the boy who was just on the other side of the city, only a measly train ride separating you both. Yet the distance seemed much greater.
But now the football season was drawing to a close, and instead of being excited at the notion of having more time to spend together, you felt uneasy and on edge, almost as if you were waiting for the other shoe to drop, something to come up, making the distance between the two of you that much more tangible.  
You felt your phone buzz next to you and your eyes unintentionally went to the clock.
9:45 pm.
The texts were getting later and later each time.
You already knew what awaited you, but you couldn’t help but scan the message regardless.
“Can’t come tonight, only have a few days till the season ends and the guys wanna make the most of it. Be there next time. Noche.”
There it was again, that unexplainable feeling in your chest, like your heart was always one step ahead of your brain, preparing for the loss of something that hadn’t yet left. Your mind was an incomprehensible mess, a jumble of contrasting thoughts and memories, forcing you to overthink situations and undervalue your emotions.  
You lifted your head watching your roommate land with a thump on the couch beside you, “He canceled again, didn’t he?”
You opened your mouth, an excuse on the tip of your tongue.
She held up her hand, “Don’t try to defend him. He knows it isn’t fair.”
You avoided her gaze, “You don’t get it. He’s really in demand and-”
“It doesn’t matter that he’s famous or a professional athlete, that doesn’t discredit his actions, or put the blame on anyone but him.”
She continued, “Look Gavi’s a good guy, I like him,” you stared at her, “I do! But he’s stupid if he doesn’t realize that he’s losing you. I know you, and while you might make excuses for him now, I know that sooner or later you’re going to notice that he hasn’t been treating you like you deserve, and you’ll be smart enough to leave.”
You felt the impact of her words full force, like a sledgehammer beating into your body. All the signs were there, right in front of your face, and you had been turning a blind eye, not wanting to admit what your heart already knew.
You knew it. The distance you had felt hadn’t been in vain – every day you could feel the connection between the two of you chip away, so small, you wouldn’t think to notice it till you stood back and looked at the bigger picture.
As a result of both your busy schedules, you both had come up with the idea of having Tuesday night, the most boring day of the week as agreed on, reserved for just the two of you. On Tuesday you didn’t have classes that ran well past dinner time or have to pick up late-night shifts at the restaurant, and he didn’t have evening practice. It was perfect. Tuesday was yours.
Except it had been four weeks since you’d had a proper conversation with Gavi, and you couldn’t help but see the difference in your relationship when you first got together, both eager and determined to spend as much time together as possible, to now, where even if you attended his games, you two still managed to get away without speaking.
You shook your head, “I-I need to take a walk.”
She reached over placing a hand on your shoulder, “Y/n. I’m sorry-”
You shook it off, standing up, “No it’s ok, it’s not your fault. I just need to clear my head.”
You felt the cool night breeze hit you as you walked the streets of Barcelona. It was unusually quiet in this part of town, the lights from the main strip didn’t reach this far out, and for a moment the quiet reminded you of your hometown.
If you closed your eyes, it was almost like you were fifteen again, back in your childhood bedroom, before the ideas of pretty boys with big brown eyes and the weight of managing both university and a job plagued all your thoughts.
You reached a lookout point, the top of the hill dropping to show you the expansive city below. You stared out, the buildings looked so small up here, barely more than a glowing dot in the dark, the cars a blur of soft yellow. You wondered which tiny dot Gavi was in. You wondered if he had checked his phone, seeing that you hadn’t texted him back like you usually did. You wondered if he even cared.
You shook your head trying to get rid of the unwanted thoughts.
Your relationship with Gavi was good. He made you laugh like nobody else, whispering secrets in each other’s ears like schoolchildren, making forts out of old sheets in his childhood bedroom when you met his family for the first time. You remembered his sweet smile, the way his eyes would crinkle unintentionally when he couldn’t hold back his excitement or happiness. You remembered confiding in him about school, how you were so stressed because you couldn’t manage eighteen credits while simultaneously holding a job that required you to be on your feet for hours at a time. You could still feel the soft caress of his hand, as he squeezed yours, providing you comfort, cracking a badly executed joke here and there just to get you to smile while listing a hundred reasons why if anyone could do it, it would be you.
So, if he made you feel all those things, why did his absence make you feel so tiny, so insignificant?
Your finger hovered over the call button, and you hit it hesitantly.
You just wanted to hear his voice.
That would be enough.
It rang seven times before the line went dead.
It took you a moment to realize you hadn’t put your phone up to your ear, waiting with bated breath for the timer on the screen to start, indicating he had picked up, but it never did.
You stuffed your phone back into your pocket, the same unsteady feeling in your heart strumming.
Once.
Twice. 
Then it was gone.
You came home to a quiet apartment and your roommate already asleep.
You shuffled into your room silently, you would give it one more week you decided. Next time would be the last.
The next week came, and while it was the first week Gavi had off from training, he had already planned to go to Ibiza to attend a music festival with his hometown friends. He had invited you, but it was more of an afterthought, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to go because of rushed ‘you can come if you want’ and a barely there apology so you left it.
You got an ‘I’ll miss you’ text from him and for a moment it made you smile, filling you with warmth. However, an ‘I miss you’ only did so much, and other than his sweet messages, there was really no intent behind his words.
Now it had been two days since Gavi had gotten back from his Ibiza trip, and you couldn’t hide the surprise on your face when you glanced over and saw a Facetime call from Gavi.
When was the last time the two of you had Facetimed? Maybe two months ago? It was much easier to send a text, the times both of you were free were few and far between.
You answered the call, pushing your textbook to the side. The dark grey interior of Gavi’s car greeted you.
“Hello?” You asked.
“Hey, Y/n long time no talk.” Gavi joked, but you felt your stomach flip at the truth behind his words.
“I can’t see you.” You said.
“Oh shit, did I accidentally Facetime? My bad I told Siri to call and she must have Facetimed instead. Let me call you.”
You went to speak but heard the three beeps indicating the call had been cut.
You heard the phone ring again and bit back a sigh. You just wanted to see his face.
You answered on the second ring.
“Hey sorry about that. I wanted to call and tell you that I’m back from Ibiza.”
“Yeah, I know.” You admitted, “I remembered.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Well, anyways I wanted to ask you to come with me to the Spanish football gala tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
You heard some shuffling and suddenly Gavi’s voice was much clearer and closer to the phone. You assumed he took it off speaker.
“Can you not come?”
You hesitated, “Uhm I’m not sure. It’s so last minute and I’m already scheduled at the restaurant tomorrow.”
“Can’t you just take off?” He persisted.
You felt your brow furrow, “I’m already on the schedule, I can’t just decide to take off the day before, I need to find someone to replace me.”
“Ok, tell whoever that I’ll sign a jersey for them if they do.”
You suddenly felt angry. Why did he think that you could only get a day off work if he helped you out? Were you not capable of handling your own situations? You hated feeling like this, like you weren’t even your own person, just a shadow of who you were with.
“No that’s fine. I’ll just take off like you said, simple.” You couldn’t help but let the bitterness seep into your voice.
He went to say something, probably sensing the shift in your mood, but you cut him off, “I have to go. Bye Gavi.”
You hung up before he could respond.
Finding someone to replace your shift was easier said than done, but after some back and forth, and a promise to Marcus to cover his next two shifts, you were free.
Free to prance around in a hall filled with people you barely knew, with a boy who you thought about more in your memories than you saw in real life.
The night of the gala arrived, and you were decked out, wearing the earrings Gavi had gifted you for your one-year anniversary paired with a necklace you had received after graduating high school.
Gavi had originally said he would pick you up but had sent a quick text earlier in the morning explaining that the team was getting ready together at a hotel, and to just meet him at the venue.
Your roommate had agreed to drive you and you gave her a grateful smile as you got in the car.
“Ana thank you for taking me.”
She brushed the comment off playfully, “No problem. Gotta step up when Gavi steps down.”
You let out a short laugh, “My hero.”
You got to the venue a couple of minutes before you had planned to meet Gavi and nervously walked around, staying out of the path of cameras.
You found someone to take you to a tent where some Barca staff were waiting for the players to start the program.
You walked in, a surprised look taking over your face once you noticed Pedri and a few other players in the corner.
You weren’t aware that some of the players from the hotel had arrived yet.
Pedri noticed your entrance and came over to say hello.
You gave him a quick hug, making casual small talk.
Just ask him, a voice in the back of your head urged.
Finally, you bit the bullet, attempting to sound as casual as possible, “How did you guys get here so early? I thought everyone was leaving the hotel at 6.”
“Ehh, it wasn’t that important, so I skipped it. Half the guys didn’t go anyway, and the other half just went to play FIFA. Besides I beat them every time, so it gets a little boring after a while.”
You tried to laugh at his joke, but could only manage a watery smile, mind running a mile a minute.
So Gavi hadn’t actually needed to go but chose to.
Leaving you alone.
Again.
It wasn’t a big deal by itself. But it was the fact that this was just another item you could add to your ever-growing list of things Gavi cared about more than you. You wondered briefly if you had been wrong, and if he had missed some other event to be there with you, only to remind yourself that you hadn’t seen him in a month, so no, he hadn’t.
You were still grappling with your emotions when Gavi arrived, unsure whether to confront him or just let this be another thing you swept under the rug.
Your reunion, if you could even call it that, was lackluster at best. He had walked in with some of his teammates, immediately going to greet the rest of his team, completely ignoring you standing on the right side of the room with Pedri.
It was only once he asked where Pedri was that someone pointed the two of you out.
You felt your body deflate; he hadn’t even asked for you.
Were you overthinking things again? Maybe he had just forgotten in the excitement of seeing his whole team for the first time after the season ended?
Gavi made his way over to the two of you, reaching out to Pedri first. You watched as they exchanged a hug before Gavi’s eyes floated over to yours.
“Hey.” His voice was casual, like he was greeting a mailman, or thanking the cashier.
“Hi.”
You closed the space, attempting to hug him, but he grabbed your shoulders stopping you, looking down.
You followed his gaze.
“I don’t want to wrinkle the dress.”
You felt your heart thud against your chest, and while you knew he only had good intentions, the rejection still stung.
You stepped out of his embrace, watching his hands drop to his sides, “Okay.”
The carpet went by in a blur, you posed with Gavi for a few photos before moving to the side and letting him enjoy the spotlight, he had worked hard for it. You took a couple of photos with some of the other teammate's girlfriends and wives before you headed inside.
Once inside, there was still some time left before the actual dinner portion of the gala started. The gala was held for all Spanish football clubs as a celebration of their hard work during the season. It was also a great event to network, giving players the ability to talk with different coaches and directors they otherwise might not have gotten the chance to, allowing for discussions of thinly veiled preseason transfers to commence without the fear of unwanted ears listening in.
You found Gavi in the crowd quickly, linking your arm with his. He looked over at you, a smile taking over his features once he noticed you.
“Glad you found me.”
You noticed with great relief that his eyes still crinkled in the corners when he looked at you,
“I always do.”
The next however many minutes spent till dinner service started comprised of Gavi talking with various different players and directors as you stood like a shiny accessory off his arm, too insignificant to be acknowledged in conversation.
The call for dinner provided you solace from the repetitive conversations and mundane questions. You took a seat next to Gavi and were confused to find both Joao Felix and Antoine Griezmann seated at your table.
You leaned into Gavi, “I thought the clubs sat together?”
“Me too. I think they’re doing alphabetical tonight though.” He whispered.
“Which one’s your least favorite?” You looked up shocked at Gavi’s question, watching a boyish grin take over his features as he tried to hide his laugh, interlacing your fingers on your lap.
You shoved into him lightly, “They’re sitting right there!”
He leaned in closer, nose softly grazing your ear as he spoke, “Yeah but between me and you, I think Joao could have had a better season in Chelsea.”
You shook your head in disbelief, fighting back the smile that was threatening to spill out. Your eyes caught his and for a second it seemed like you had been transported back in time, back to when these types of moments were the standard not the exception, back when it felt like you were on each other sides, back when laughter was the antidote instead of tense silences filled with awkward hello’s.
His eyebrow lifted ask if to ask if you agreed with him, and a small murmur of agreement from you was all he needed before he opened his mouth, ready to hammer his point home, but his attention switched last second.
It was like you could visibly see the shift in his demeanor. First, it was his eyes glancing past yours, seeing the midfielder approaching. Then it was the subtle grip on your hand loosening, his fingers slipping through the gaps. Next, it was the complete shift in body, his posture straightening as he leaned his body away from yours, position shifting to face Pedri who had sat in the spot next to him.
To his credit, Pedri acknowledged the both of you but it was clear Gavi paid no mind to you, not evening sparing you a glance as he became immersed in a conversation with Pedri.
You tried to pretend it didn’t affect you and while you could lie to everyone else, you couldn’t lie to yourself. You had built up this evening up so much in your head, telling yourself that tonight would be the shifting point in your relationship and that everything would go back to the way it once was, but it was shaping up to be another Tuesday you had become all too familiar with.
Why did it feel like you were always competing for his attention?
Your mind was reeling, all the small actions Gavi did that you kept pushing aside, were floating back to the surface, each little remark or dismissal a little tug on your heartstrings till you were sure that if you stayed at the table a for a moment longer you wouldn’t be able to stop the onslaught of tears quickly approaching.
You stood from the table abruptly, catching a few people’s attention, but you gave them a polite smile, or at least you hoped it had been polite, you couldn’t focus on anything but the stinging in your eyes and the sinking feeling in your stomach.
You swiftly walked towards the restroom, glancing over your shoulder to see if anyone had noticed but your eyes fell on Gavi’s form. He hadn’t even bothered turning around.
Of course, he hadn’t. 
Somehow that hurt more than anything else.
You were immensely grateful for the single-use restroom as you locked yourself in, shaky hands coming to steady yourself on the sink.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
You were internally screaming at yourself, begging yourself to keep yourself together but the feeling was too overwhelming and before you could stop you felt the first tears slip down. Your shoulders shook as you forced yourself to be silent, embarrassed about someone walking by and overhearing you pitying yourself.
One hand covered your mouth as you muffled your sobs, while the other dug into the stupid marble sink until the skin was pink and indented. The pain acted as a distraction from the unbearable pressure in your chest, and you instinctively pushed your hand harder into the sink.
Your fingers felt numb as you slowly removed them, closing your eyes to steady yourself. It was obvious that you weren’t in the best mental state, but you couldn’t exactly sit in the bathroom for the next hour to sort it out. You had to clean yourself up and go back to pretending.
Yes, pretending, you realized, was exactly what you had been doing. This whole night you had been pretending, pretending everything was okay, pretending that your relationship was fine when in truth you couldn’t even remember what Gavi’s laugh sounded like.
When had it become all pretend?
Was there anything left here? Were your best years behind you both?
These unanswered questions haunted you as you calmed yourself down, wrapping around you like a blanket, one that provided you no comfort but rather a feeling of suffocation.
Finally, your eyes had dried, and the redness had faded significantly. You had gotten your breathing under control, and you felt a little lighter having stopped denying what had been plaguing your mind for weeks now.
You took one final glance in the mirror, smoothing out your dress as you exited the restroom.
You walked slowly back to the table. You had decided that if you could just get through tonight, go home, and cry and think some more, then by tomorrow morning you would be able to talk to Gavi and decide what to do.
But that plan had flown out the window when you arrived back at the table to a confused Gavi.
It seemed he had finally noticed your absence.
“Where did you go? They served dinner 15 minutes ago.”
“I had to use the restroom.”
“For 15 minutes?”
“There was a queue.” You lied.
He seemed to accept your answer and you chose to focus on your food rather than him.
You were halfway through your meal when you noticed Gavi giving you a double take from the corner of your eye.
“Your eyes are red.” He spoke in a hushed voice.
“I don’t know why.”
“Are you sure?” His attention was beginning to slip again, eyes darting back between you and Pedri.
“Yes, I’m fine.” You heard your voice waver on the last syllable, a tick you had when you were lying, and Gavi immediately picked up on it, facing you fully.
“What’s wrong?”
You shook your head not wanting to get into everything here.
“I’m ok.”
“You’re not.”
“Gavi.” You warned.
“What happened? Did someone say something?”
“No. Just drop it please.” Your voice had gone soft, tired of defending yourself.
“Y/n just tell me, I’ll help.” He urged.
You stayed quiet.
“What’s wrong?” He asked again, adamant to get an answer.
You felt yourself grow annoyed, why couldn’t he just let it go? Why was he suddenly interested in how you felt? You were just trying to protect what little left the two of you had and he seemed intent on destroying it.
“It’s you.”
He looked taken aback, eyes pooling with hurt and confusion, his body slightly deflating, “W-what?”
The moment was interrupted when the announcer took over the stage, beginning the presentation for the night, highlighting a few key players and matches.
You looked away first, turning to face the stage, clapping along, acting as though you couldn’t feel Gavi’s gaze burning into your back as he desperately tried to get your attention.
Once the presentation was over you were quick to excuse yourself, using the pretense of going to get a drink as a getaway.
You held your breath as you walked, praying Gavi wouldn’t follow you, and while he got up immediately once he noticed, he was quickly interrupted by another player coming to congratulate him, allowing you to slip away while he watched helplessly.
You let out a huff, leaning against the bar trying to slow your heartbeat.
“Long day?”
You looked over to see Joao standing next to you, watching as the bartender poured his drink.
“Something like that.”
He nodded, “Me too. Been a long couple of days actually.”
You smiled, “Actually, it’s been a long couple of weeks.”
He turned his head to look at you, “I take it back. It’s actually been a long couple of months.”
You raised your hand in mock surrender, “Ok I can’t beat that.”
He grinned, “Yeah not many people can.”
Your expression matched his own, and you gave your order to the bartender before turning to face him again, “So how’s the season been?”
“Shit. Honestly, I’m not even sure why I’m here I played for Chelsea this season not Athletico.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at his abruptness.
“Yeah, I saw your first game. A red card first match is pretty brutal.”
His grin only widened, “Oh keeping tabs are we?”
You gave him a playful glare, “Of course gotta know how Barca’s competition is doing.”
“Oh, so you’re a Barca girl?”
“Since the day I was born.” You revealed proudly.
And it was true, even before you had met Gavi, you had loved Barcelona. Growing up in a family of football lovers, your family had declared FC Barcelona as their home club, and you had witnessed so many legends play for Barcelona and so many underdogs find their true passion at the club.
“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, and you gave him a nod of encouragement, pretending to zip your lips shut making him smile, “Ok well it’s always been my dream to play for Barcelona. Messi was always an idol to me.” He confessed.
Your mouth dropped open in shock before you abruptly shut it, your eyes almost widening comically as you spoke excitedly, “What oh my gosh. I’m in shock. Messi? But you play with Ronaldo!” You gasped.
He laughed at your facial expression, as he whispered, “I know! That’s why it’s a secret.”
You nodded along with his words, sending him a duh expression, “Of course, I won’t say anything I promise.”
“Promise what?”
Gavi had appeared by your side, a firm hand set on your waist, as he gently tugged you back into his body.
You peeked up at Gavi to see he was already looking down at you, jaw set. You gulped.
“Nothing much, just talking about the season.” You replied.
You saw Gavi’s eyes flicker between the two of you before he brought you closer, “Can we please talk?”
You bit your lip unsure but nodded.
He slipped his hand into yours as he led you to a quieter area. You waved goodbye to Joao as Gavi pulled you through the crowd, and he held his drink up in response.
He was a nice guy. You hoped next season would be better for him than the last.
He guided you to a standing table and propped your hands on the table as he played with the ring on your index finger.
“This a really pretty ring, is it new?” He asked eyes focused on your fingers.
“No, I got it last month.”
“I haven’t seen you wear it.”
“I’ve worn it every day since I got it.”
“Oh.”
You gently removed your hand from his, knowing that talking circles about something so small was going to get you nowhere.
“What do you want Gavi?” You asked quietly.
His voice came out gravelly, “I want to know how I let it get to the point where you feel more comfortable calling me Gavi rather than Pablo.”
His words when straight to your heart, and you could feel his pain almost as much as you could feel your own.
“I-I don’t know.”
You heard his breath falter, “I miss you calling me Pablo. Hell – I even miss you calling me Pablito. I’d take anything over whatever this is.” He gestured pointing between the two of you.
“Ok then let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about where it went wrong.”
His eyes lifted at your words, “Why are you speaking in the past tense?”
You remained silent.
“Amor please, why are you speaking in past tense?” You could hear the panic building in his voice.
“I think we don’t spend enough time together.”
“Ok we can fix that. No problem.” He agreed, desperate to save what was slowly unraveling.
“But do you want to? Fix it I mean?”
“Of course, I do. Please just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” His voice was almost near begging, and you knew without a doubt that you were in a similar state.
You couldn’t believe that this was happening here, in front of all these people, but it wasn’t fair to either of you to hold it any longer. You had to have this conversation sooner or later and it seemed like tonight was the time for it.
“Sometimes I feel like you don’t have time for me.” You finally admitted what you had been feeling for the last month.
He shook his head rapidly, “I do! But I mean we both have such busy schedules, you have even less time than I do with school.” he argued, “You also have work so that cuts down on the time we have too, but I’m not complaining.”
You were trembling with anger as you spoke, but you kept your voice low, “Yes, because I have to work a job to be able to afford college. I hate the hours probably more than you do, but I do it because I have to. I don’t have an option. I want to go to school? I have to fund it. But you? You didn’t have to go out with the guys after practice or stay around Ansu’s to play FIFA, but you did. That was a choice you made.”
He opened his mouth to retaliate but you weren’t done, “And I’m not even mad about that. I’m mad that for the last month, you’ve put me below every other person in your life, treated me like I’m dispensable, someone who you only consider when you need something. I feel cheap. Like something you only want when it’s convenient to you.”
“That’s not true. You’re my girlfriend!” His voice shook as he spoke, and you realized he was probably just as scared as you were.
“Then why do I feel like I’m not?” Your voice came out soft, barely above a whisper, but it felt like delivering the final blow to an already sinking battleship.
You felt his eyes on you, eyes glazing over as hundreds of unushered words filled the space between you, but the moment was cut short, and you had to remind yourself that you were in public as Xavi approached the two of you.
You gave Xavi a quick hug before he congratulated Gavi on a great season.
Gavi only nodded, murmuring short responses, eyes glancing at you every few seconds like he was scared you would disappear from his life if he wasn’t watching.  
He left after a moment, and then the two of you were alone again.
“I’m sorry Y/n, I had no idea that’s why you were working. I would’ve given you the money if you just said something-“
“I don’t want your money Gavi! It’s yours, not mine.” You said exasperated.
“C’mon Y/n you know I have enough to provide for the both of us. You don’t have to work-“
“I don’t want that! In fact, right now I don’t even want to be in this relationship!”
The boy physically shrunk back at your words, your admission sending him into silence as he processed your words.
Finally, he spoke, head shaking in denial, not wanting to admit what was right in front of him, “I-I don’t understand.”
You wanted to yell at him to notice all the signs you’d been sending him, beg him to understand the things you couldn’t say but had always been lurking in the shadows, easy enough to make out if you just paid attention. You wanted to scream that it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair that Gavi got to pursue his passion while you were being told to give up yours. Your head was filled with millions of things you wanted to say to him, thousands of little moments you wanted to share with him, you wanted to confide in him about how scared you were, how you had never felt like this in your life, how the thought of him slowly falling out of love with you was ripping your insides apart, making you sick to your stomach. There were so many things but not one left your mouth.
“I know you don’t.” Your voice sounded tired, even to your own ears, and you wondered if this was it. If this is where the two of you parted ways.
“I-I’m just going to go home.”
“I’ll grab our coats.”
You placed your hand gently on his, giving him a sad smile, “It’s ok. I think I’ll go alone.”
Neither of you could deny what it meant.
He ducked his head so you couldn’t see his red eyes. There was a moment of silence, and you could tell he was fighting with himself, trying to figure out what to do to stop the inevitable, until he slowly nodded,
“Ok.”
He had just sealed your relationship closed, something you were grateful for because you knew you couldn’t have done it yourself.
He didn’t lift his head as you walked away, and you didn’t blame him.
You grabbed your coat quickly, bidding goodbye to a few people as you made your way out of the hall.
As you walked down the hallway towards the main doors you realized you didn’t have a ride back. Your roommate had dropped you off and you assumed Gavi would drop you back. Well, that wasn’t happening now. Train it was. One glance out the window told you it was raining, downpouring to be exact.
How fitting. At least the weather matched your mood.
You stepped outside, immediately becoming drenched, but somehow you found comfort in it, at least this way no one could see you cry.
You were about halfway down the steps when you heard the door slam open, yelling coming from behind you.
You spun around, surprised to see Gavi stepping into the rain, “Please stay. Please.”
You stood frozen, unsure of what to say.
You were sure he wouldn’t follow you. But he had.
He kept taking steps closer to you, closing the distance, till you were only two steps apart, “Stay.”
His eyes searched your own, looking for something, maybe a sign that there was hope, something you weren’t sure you could provide.
“Just let me go. We can talk about this tomorrow.”
He shook his head, breath unsteady, “No I can’t. I can’t. I feel like if I let you go now, I’ll never see you again.”
You bit your cheek looking away, he was right. After tonight you had no intention of talking to him again.
His shoulders drooped at your silence, and he sat down on the steps of the building, harsh rain pounding down on him, matting his hair and drenching his extremely expensive suit, but he didn’t seem to care, “I hate fighting with you.”
You glanced down at his figure, watching him sit in the rain with his head in his hands, utterly defenseless.
“But I hate even more that it’s my fault, and that I couldn’t see what I was doing until I felt what you did, just for a second, and it hurt like hell.”
“I should have been there for you. I should have made time for you. I knew what I was doing wasn’t right but then I kept thinking it’s fine I’ll make it up to her next time, but next time never happened because I never showed up. I guess I was just so focused on making sure my teammates all liked me, and they had just stopped treating me like a kid, finally inviting me places - and I’m not using that as an excuse because I know it’s a shit one, it’s on me. Nobody forced me to do anything, I just wanted to feel included, and I put everyone else’s feelings above yours when yours was the one that was the most important to me.”
He finally lifted his head, and he was close enough that you could see the tears streaming down his face as he looked intently at you, almost like he was trying to memorize you, “If you want to walk away you can, you should - I’ll understand. I just wanted to apologize, really apologize, and own up to everything I did. I love you, and I promise you I won’t take anyone for granted the way I did with you.”
Your expression mirrored his own, and the tears were falling freely at his confession now that it was just the two of you. All the things you had wanted him to realize he had. All the things you wished he had said, he finally did.
But was it too late?
“Thank you, Pablo.”
He let out a short laugh through his tears, “No, thank you.”
You gave him a soft smile before you put distance between the two of you, letting the rain mask the sound of you leaving.
The lights from the venue grew dimmer as you continued walking, and you spared one last glance over your shoulder before it disappeared from view, seeing Gavi’s tiny figure rooted in place, watching you leave.
Your steps faltered.
How could you leave this relationship, this boy, when every single warning sign was going off in your brain, telling you to turn around and fight, to not give up? He had understood, he had understood exactly what you had felt, and had owned up to his mistakes, what else could he have done? He couldn’t go back and make it better, but he could change the way he treated you, but how would you acknowledge the change if you didn’t stick around?
It didn’t feel right walking away.
You thought you would feel content, feel like the pressure was lifting from your shoulders, but the dropping feeling in your stomach was multiplying, and your heart was constricting painfully at the thought of never seeing him, never laughing with him, never kissing him again, at the idea of falling in love with someone that wasn’t him.
You never ran faster in your life.
Let him be there. Please let him be there.
You didn’t know how you could explain yourself if you had to walk back into the event sopping wet, eyes puffy, and nose runny.
You couldn’t stop the wide smile that stretched across your face as he realized he was right where you left him.
You sat next to him and he didn’t notice until you spoke.
“Pablo.”
His head shot upon hearing your voice, and his face lifted for a second before falling again, “Di-Did you forget something?”
You nodded.
“Ok I can get it for you, what is it?” He cleared his throat, trying to make his voice clear.
You shifted closer to him, bodies pressed against each other, “I forgot that I love you. I love you and I want to work this out. I’m happy that you took responsibility and I believe you. I believe that you won’t do it again. But I should apologize too – I also wasn’t fair to you, and I did things that I shouldn’t have just to get back at you for making me feel so small.”
“I’m sorr-”
You cut him off, “Let’s stop apologizing.”
He nodded, eyes looking at you with nothing but love and admiration,
“Ok but we’ll have to work on our communication.” He said, and you hummed in agreement.
You touched your forehead with his, staring at each other with baited breaths until he finally closed the distance and kissed you. After a month of not seeing each other, you were finally kissing, pouring all your emotions, all your love, all your pain into the kiss, making a promise to be there for each other, and it felt like coming home.
alternate ending
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sugawarassoulmate · 4 months
Text
no nut november - nov 20
they put up a good fight but still couldn't make it...
(peachy had a very busy month so we're gonna ignore that this is late bc she wanted to finish it 😤)
farmer!ushijima & best friend!iwaizumi
word count: 330 & 531
cw: fem!reader, fingering, mutual masturbation, dubious consent (ushi and reader are drunk), infidelity (kind of), minors dni
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farmer!ushijima
it might just be the alcohol in ushijima's veins telling him this isn't a bad idea but you're looking pretty in the dimly lit alley
he doesn't drink often but he'd thought he'd treat himself for a few at the bar after harvesting the last of his fall crops
it was a good season, one that exceeded his expectations, leaving him completely prepared for the cruelty of winter
you were already two shots in when you saw him, quickly challenging him to a drinking game and, uncharacteristically, ushijima accepted
and now the two of you are pawing at each other behind the saloon, ushijima's fingers already down your pants
and his fingers are so thick, filling you up more than your smaller digits would ever allow
"toshiii," you groaned, humping against his hand
you completely forgot about the stupid bet you made with your friends on a visit to the city last month
you were sure you could last the whole 30 days - you were single and aside from the occasional flirty jokes with a usually oblivious ushijima, there wasn't anyone else you were interested in
but now you're reaching into his jeans to pull his cock out
you're both gasping and breathing heavily into each other's mouths, desperate to get off
it feels nice to have ushijima, a massive, stoic man, groan with every flick of your wrist
you want him to cum first but once his thumb starts circling your clit, you don't stand a chance
even in the pleasure of your orgasm, you have enough sense to take care of ushijima, stroking him as the bliss racks through your body
within a few seconds, you can feel the warmth of his cum coating your hand
the two of you clean up as best as you can when ushijima mumbles, "sorry that you lost your game."
you can't help cracking up, finding it hilarious that he remembered the drunken conversation the two of you had earlier that night
best friend!iwaizumi
"uh huh," iwaizumi says, mindlessly tapping away at his controller. "no, you're so right, i can't believe he did that."
you're calling him again to complain about your boyfriend again
it was some stupid argument about whose family you were spending thanksgiving with - iwaizumi couldn't really care
"and then he just tells me to 'do whatever i want,' can you believe that?" you scoff
"no that's terrible, such a dick move," iwaizumi drones on, all of his focus on the game he's playing at the moment
every other week, you call up iwaizumi to have the same conversation with him - how much your boyfriend pissed you off and you want to break up
and, being the good friend that he is, iwaizumi lends his ear to listen (and his dick to comfort you after a breakup)
"i'm so done, he can spend thanksgiving alone. and the rest of his life for that matter," you huff but your threats hold no weight when the two of you are constantly getting back together
"can i come over? i don't want to be alone..." you ask after a few beats of silence
without thinking, iwaizumi agrees and you quickly end the phone call with a "okie dokie!! see you soon!"
it doesn't hit him for a few minutes but he suddenly remembers that he, oikawa, matsukawa, and hanamaki were doing that stupid no nut november thing again
you and your boyfriend seemed to be doing fine the whole month so and it wasn't like iwaizumi had any other prospects - not that he wanted any
but with you coming over (and being freshly single) there was no way he'd be able to keep his streak going
but iwaizumi is more disciplined than that and the two of you have been friends way before this weird....arrangement went down
he knows how to keep it in his pants and he can resist you no matter how hard you try
iwaizumi hajime is an idiot
it took less than half an hour for his dick to end up inside you
"fuck, haji, just like that!"
it was so embarrassing—your panties pushed to the side and iwaizumi's sweats scrunched only halfway down his legs
neither of you had enough patience to actually take the other's clothes off, like the moment was fleeting and could be ripped away at any time (and most of the time it felt that way)
"feels good? that's why you keep coming back, huh?" he grunts, pulling you into a kiss
you bite your lip, not wanting to admit that he was right but iwaizumi pins you to the mattress, plunging his cock deeper inside your cunt, forcing guttural moans from you
"not gonna admit it? that's fine, i already know, baby," he says, laughing when you cum around him
he follows soon after, not bothering to pull out cause he knows you enjoy the feeling of him filling you up
iwaizumi rolls off of you, taking a second to stare up at the ceiling. he knows the others will rip into him when they find out
reaching for his phone, he decides to get it over with before he helps you clean up.
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©sugawarassoulmate 2023 all rights reserved - please do not repost/translate my work on other platforms!
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shewrites7 · 8 months
Text
The First Step
carmen berzatto x fem!reader
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summary - The first thing you do when you get back to your hometown of Chicago is pay Carmen, your oldest friend and maybe more than that, a visit at The Beef. When you land yourself a job there, the more he sees of you, the more he seems to push you away for reasons he isn't yet brave enough to tell you, even if all he wants is to be with you. But if he'd ever known you, he'd know that you weren't going to back down without a fight.
type - one shot (its a long one)
word count [16.6k]
tags: Carmy Berzatto x f!reader, friends to lovers, pining, slight miscommunication, a little angst, "stop pushing me away", hurt/comfort, and new promises.
warnings: swearing, mentions of grief/death, panic attack
a/n: check this out also on my ao3! <33
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Carmen was tired, to say the least. He'd been working himself to the bone every damn day for the past few months, trying to get The Beef to a good, stable place. Somehow, as time went by, he'd only managed to dig himself a deeper grave. With the money they owed to Cicero, he knew, deep down, that the restaurant was, for lack of a better word, fucked.
But he kept holding on. He couldn't let go of it. He'd wonder, in the depths of night, why he was fighting so hard for this place when he could easily sell it to Cicero. If, maybe, he was holding onto someone. He didn't amuse the thought. He physically couldn't.
So he threw himself deeper into his work. Deeper into making The Beef a reputable place, with a professional working staff and high-quality food. It didn't matter that the others looked at him like he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had. He didn't have the time to worry about that. He didn't have time for much of anything, which is why Sydney had been pushing for new hires. She'd said that they needed more hands in the kitchen, more workers up front, more of everything. They should be desperate.
That's why she'd spent hours putting up posters for new hires on what felt like practically every block of Chicago within a mile radius from the restaurant. And that's why you'd happened to stumble upon one of them while walking to a favorite pizza place of yours that you'd loved as a kid. It was one of the first things you'd planned on doing ever since you'd gotten back into the city. That and meeting up with some old friends who you'd missed with an ache in your chest. So, seeing the poster clinging to the utility pole saying that The Beef was hiring had your heart skip a little beat at the prospect of not only getting a job but seeing the people who had basically been your family growing up again.
It was a Friday morning when you'd stopped by The Beef, the rusted white sign sticking out like a sore thumb. A rush of aromas wafted against your nose when you walked in, and the front door made a jingling sound that was almost nostalgic.
No one was at the front register. In fact, you couldn't see anyone at all, only hear some muffled voices coming from the kitchen in the back. The voices grew louder as seconds went by, and you could tell they were shouts. The kitchen door then flew open, finally revealing the argument going on between two people, one being an unfamiliar woman in an apron, and the other being none other than Richie Jerimovich.
"Richie, I swear to God-"
"I already told you," came the booming voice of Richie, neither of them noticing your presence at the door. "Your foo foo plans for this place are not gonna fly, Sweetheart!"
With the way Richie was talking to her, you could see the woman's patience wearing thin as she rested a hand on her temple with shut eyes as he carried on. It was only when she reopened her eyes a few moments later that she noticed your presence.
"Hi," you said, making your way over to her. "I saw your poster, the one about looking for new hires-"
"Right, right." She offered a strained smile, stress seeming to stay with her. "I'm Sydney, you must be one of the job applicants?"
"Yeah, I'm-"
"A job applicant?" Richie's voice boomed through the room, his voice always projecting ten times louder than need be. You had to admit, you missed it. "F that bullshit, that's fucking Mars Bar!"
Sydney's eyebrows lowered at the shouted nickname, the one that the Berzattos had gifted you years ago after your favorite candy as a kid. You granted Richie a smile, him finally noticing you. "Nice to see you too, Richie."
He marched around the counter to engulf you in a bear-like hug that had you letting out a chuckled gasp from the impact, arms wrapping tightly around your back. He let go in a beat and slammed his hands down on the counter in excitement, always loud.
"Just wait till Carmy hears about his favorite girl being back, I swear to God."
Something fluttered through you at the mention of that name. Carmen's name. With a whirlwind of thoughts sifting through your mind, you almost missed the other name that Richie had called you, aside from Mars Bar. Carmy's favorite girl.
-----
Richie had barged into the kitchen with full vigor, slamming open the swinging door dangerously close to a nearby Tina.
"Cousin!" He moved through the different chefs' stations until he got to Carmen's, who was wrapped up in prepping and quite frankly had learned to tune out the sound of Richie's yelling for his own health. "Yo, Cousin!"
Richie boisterously grabbed a hold of Carmen's shoulders, rocking him a little and moving his hand that wielded a knife, cutting diagonally into beef he'd been pre-slicing.
"Shit," Carmen cursed, irritation forming. "What the hell is it, Cousin?"
Richie just laughed, a mind never paid to Carmen's annoyance. "Yea, you're pissed at me now, Carmy, but you're gonna think I'm pulling your dick when I tell you who's at the fucking register right now."
With a forever-present dull headache, Carmen sighed and shifted his focus to him, putting down his knife on the counter. He gestured a hand out to him. "Who's at the register, Rich-"
"The fucking love of your life, that's who!"
Richie gave Carmen a playful punch in the arm, but he remained unphased, a frown etched on his features. "See, what the fuck are you talking about? I don't have a love of my-"
"Two words, Cousin. Mars Bar."
Richie was right. Those two words really did do something to him.
"She- ... she's here?"
He rubbed his jaw, brain short-circuiting for a second as he tried to make sense of Richie's words. His eyes bore into Richie's never-serious ones, trying to grasp onto whether or not he was, just this one time. If he was messing with him, he didn't think he'd be able to take it.
"Yes, bro!" Yelled Richie, patting him on the back. "I swear to you. She's here, and hot as balls, too."
He squinted his eyes at him with a twinge of disgust, slightly shoving him to the side to get towards the door. He still didn't know if he believed it. You'd been traveling abroad on some grant that he, to be honest, didn't know much about. But you were doing great things. He couldn't guess why you'd come back to The Beef, of all places.
When he saw you through the window, he was lucky he was hidden behind the safety of the kitchen door because he couldn't control the way his body and mind froze at the sight of you. He took in the way your smile beamed out into the room as you spoke with Sydney, warm and unignorable, and he could've sworn something changed in the chemical makeup of his brain. Something that had his eyes widening and his feet planted in their place.
"What'd I tell you?" Richie's voice from behind him knocked him out of his trance. There was a smug, amused edge to his voice. "Now go and talk to her."
Carmen put a hand out, shooing him away. "I will. I just," he stopped, trailing off as he took in the way you truly seemed to glow after all the time spent away. He liked how it looked on you.
"Aww, don't tell me you're nervous now, Carm." Richie put his arms on Carmen's shoulders.
"Shut the fuck up." He shoved Richie off of him with a grimace, but his eyes never left you, jaw clenching as he followed your movements. "I'm not."
The pit in his stomach told him otherwise. He ignored the feeling, determined, and took in a breath before opening the kitchen door to the front of the restaurant, to where you stood.
At the sound of the door swinging open you finally turned your attention to him, lips coming to part with a subtle inhale that somehow left you feeling breathless.
"Carmen." You said his name with a grin, eyes lighting up, heart picking up its pace in your chest. You ran over for a quick, thoughtless hug that left his body partly on fire when you pulled away just as fast.
"Mars Bar." He uttered the old nickname endearingly, his voice cracking at the end of his words for some reason. He cleared his throat. "You're uh- you're here. In Chicago."
"Woah," Richie interrupted, coming in from behind, boisterous. "We've got a genius in The Beef, everybody!"
Sydney snorted from somewhere in the distance, but you couldn't even laugh because you'd been too busy staring at the way Carmen ran his hand through his golden hair that had been unruly since you were practically kids and still was.
"Yeah," you breathed, cringing at how awkward your voice sounded to your own ears. "I'm here."
The two of you held onto each other's gazes for a beat too long, scanning over the other wordlessly, taking in the changes that the years apart had brought.
"Well, uh," Carmen started, licking his lip to find strings of coherent words. "Do you wanna come into the office? Catch up?"
You nodded with a pleased tug of your lips. "Yeah, sure Carmen."
He nodded too and led the way, arm delicately resting on your upper back for a second in a way that left his fingertips buzzing, alive.
You entered the room after he did, the desk and walls littered with papers and sticky notes of different colors, an overload to the senses. It was stuffy, even with the door left open.
Before he turned to face you, he clumsily sorted some papers that'd been sitting on a wooden chair into stacks and pushed them onto the highest shelf above his desk so you could sit down, his white t-shirt slightly tugging upwards as he reached. Your eyes subtly followed the movement, eyes glancing steadily over a part of his lower abdomen that you felt alarmed at even sneaking a peak. That and the muscles that showed clearly from the short sleeves of his shirt.
God, you'd only been back in Chicago for a few days and your mind was already doing that thing it always did when you were around Carmen, like it didn't have the ability to think straight or act rationally when he was around.
"So, uh," Carmen started, turning his focus back to being one hundred percent on you. It became hard to concentrate when he did that, because he had the most piercing blue eyes you'd ever seen and you found over the years that they'd always had more than just one emotion swimming around in them. As you looked into them now, you still came up short in identifying them.
"What are you doing back in Chicago?" He looked at you like you were a puzzle, one he couldn't give up on solving. "Did the studies abroad finally start to bore you?"
"Yeah, they did," you joked, looking down at your lap. "Not really much to do in Europe compared to this place, you know?"
Carmen let out a wisp of a laugh, nodding, while also noting somewhere in the back of his mind that this was the first time he'd laughed in at least a few days. Your presence could always do that to him; Put him at ease when nothing else truly could.
"And, of course, I could only go so long being separated from the Berzattos."
He laughed again. That made twice. "Oh yeah?"
You nodded, playful in your words.
"I mean it." You did.
You let a comfortable silence nestle between the two of you, feeling the upward tug of your lips that you could only blame on Carmen. The thought left something alighted in your chest
"Seriously though." You say up a little straighter in your seat. "I guess the real reason I stopped by was because I was wondering if I could help out around here for a little while, now that I'm back home."
At this, the smile that had been resting on Carmen's face began to weaken.
"What?" His forehead creased, eyes dancing across your face with curiosity and disguised panic of his own.
Sensing his change in mood, you hurriedly continued. "I'll be home for a while and, you know, I just figured me getting a job here would be convenient and-"
"No."
You stopped mid-sentence, zeroing in on the man before you. "No?"
He had one hand leaning against the desk, the other's fingertips pressed to his forehead, head cast down, eyes evading yours.
"No, I- I'm sorry, Mars. We're ... we're not hiring right now. We don't need any new workers." At that, you frowned, taking in the tension in Carmen's stance and the tightness in his voice.
"I know The Beef is hiring right now, Carm." You gave him a disbelieving look. "In fact, I got the idea to work here from the flyers Sydney put up everywhere, so don't try and tell me you're not looking for new job applicants." You took a step closer to him, sensing something wrong and confused as to why he would lie, but he only seemed to be growing more agitated, shifting his posture upwards and no longer leaning on the table.
"That was a mistake, alright? I didn't ask her to do that. The Beef is doing perfectly fine, we don't need any extra help." Something sour was rotting in the undertones of his voice, the way he said the word help as if the thought of it was repellent.
"I didn't mean anything by asking. I ... I know you guys are doing fine, probably great even, I was just thinking that maybe I could-"
"We don't need any new fucking hires, Mars." He slammed his hand down on the desk, his tone raising so abruptly that it had you taking a step back in surprise.
When you looked up at him with alarm in your eyes, immediately his eyes began to soften, regret flooding through them. You held his gaze until those same eyes became taken over with this sudden guilt, almost sadness, flickering downwards towards his hands that moved to rest on his office desk, away from you.
You took a second to scan over the desk that was littered with papers and unsigned documents. It wasn't like Carmen to be unorganized, you knew that much. He had to be in a bad place to have his office look like this. Or, rather, Mikey's old office.
The room was a sensory overload, every inch of it a reminder of Mikey. Anyone would go crazy spending their days in here. Especially if that someone had been his little brother.
Carmen rubbed his hands over his face. You took a step next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder that lit aflame from the heat he gave off.
"For what it's worth," you started softly, and Carmen had to fight a shiver at how close your voice was to him. "I miss Mikey too."
He didn't make any movement to turn towards you, his jaw clenched and eyes still staring downwards. He didn't know what made you feel like you had to say that to him. He didn't need to look at you, though, to know you truly meant it.
"You can't work here," he said, his voice sounding defeated and a little far away. "I'm sorry."
Something restless in your heart was determined to make you fight back, figure out why Carmen was refusing you without a good reason. But something else inside of you softened at the way Carmen wouldn't meet your eyes, seeming guilt-stricken, and decided to back down. The hand that had been resting on his shoulder gave him a final squeeze.
You took your leave for the office door without Carmen moving an inch.
"Bye, Carm." Your voice was unfairly soft towards him, even if he felt like he didn't deserve the kindness that thrummed from your heart. "It was nice seeing you." You paused. "I've missed you."
Before he could turn to say goodbye, somehow communicate the 'I've missed you too' that he'd been meaning to express since he'd seen you, you had already turned down the hallway, out of sight. He knew for sure, then, that you didn't deserve that response from him. But he just didn't know how to tell you. How to explain without sounding ridiculous why alarms sounded in his brain at the thought of you working at The Beef.
He'd always known that you were destined for more than just the life you'd shared with him as kids, where you scored straight A's and were one of the top in your class. When you'd left for college while he stayed put, he didn't even let himself miss you, because he'd just wanted what was best for you. And when you furthered your studies even after college, traveling abroad, he knew that was the life you were meant for. To see you stopping all of that to work at The Beef, the place where his brother's dreams had become nothing but dead ends as time went on, wouldn't settle right inside of him.
Worst of all, he had visions of you working in the kitchen, behind the scenes where tensions were constantly overwhelming, of him losing his cool in front of you and you seeing a side of him he tried to keep you far away from. You'd always known the youngest brother Carmy, the world-class chef Carmy, the one who was at his best around you. He couldn't imagine what he would do if suddenly he revealed the Carmy he tried to hide; the Carmy who worked at The Beef, a bundle of unstable frustration who was barely hanging on, the Carmy who still didn't know how to live life without Mikey but who melted from your touch, who wanted more from the girl who'd been at his side for so many years as nothing but a friend, and a great one. He couldn't risk losing that.
Especially not with the condition of The Beef at the moment, which needed his full focus. Having you around would definitely not allow for that. So he convinced himself that this was for your own good. For his own good.
When you rounded the corner back out into the front of the restaurant, Richie was still there behind the counter, holding a phone to his ear.
You smiled at him a little tiredly and silently waved goodbye, walking towards the door.
Richie frowned, removing his focus from the phone call. "Where the hell are you leaving to so fast?" You spun around. "Don't tell me Carmy scared you off already."
You laughed awkwardly and thought of what to say, but must have taken too long to answer because Richie's face was already contorting with an over-the-top grimace.
"What'd that moron say to you, huh?"
You put a hand out, trying to calm him. "Richie, it's nothing, really-"
He was already stalking off towards the office, muttering something about 'killing Carmen'. You shook your head to yourself, because you knew how headstrong both of them were, and turned towards the exit. And, as you finally opened the glass door to leave, you could hear yelling and shouted vulgar words coming from the office. You didn't stay long enough to listen.
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You didn't know what to think when it happened. You'd been sitting at home all weekend, alone, and honestly truly bored and wondering if coming back home was the right choice when your phone started ringing. You checked the screen and it was an unknown caller, but boredom had you picking it up anyway.
Mars Bar!
"Hello? Who is this?"
It's me.
"..."
Richie.
"Ohh ... right. How did you get my number again?"
I asked around. Anyways, it doesn't matter. I'm supposed to be telling you that you're gonna start work tomorrow.
"What? Start work? Where?"
At The Beef. C'mon Mars catch up with me here.
"Sorry, I'm just ... confused. Carmen told me you guys weren't hiring and that he couldn't give me a job?"
Oh, that. Don't worry about Carmy. I set that moron straight.
"What are you saying?"
I'm saying, you got the job kid!
"Richie, are you fucking with me right now?"
No! Why does everyone always think I'm fucking with them? I'm fucking serious hon.
"Okay, okay! I ... I believe you. I think."
You better! Carmy is really fucking stoked to have you work here, I mean it.
"He ... he is?"
Sure! So I better see your ass Monday morning, capeesh?
"Y-yea I guess so."
Your heart really should not have fluttered the way it did when Richie told you that Carmen was supposedly excited to see you. He hadn't sounded like it when you'd brought it up to him. In fact, he seemed strangely opposed to the idea, like you'd hit a sensitive area.
You weren't sure if you could really believe Richie. Like you'd always known, Carmen was stubborn as hell. The change of heart was unexpected, to say the least. You didn't know what to think. You still didn't know, as you walked through the front entrance of The Beef the next day, ready to start work. The only person to greet you at the front was Richie, standing behind the counter, per usual.
"Cousin!" He gestured you over. You greeted him back and rounded the corner to stand behind the counter next to him, unused to the feeling after spending years on the other side of it.
Richie spent at most two minutes giving you a rundown of what you'd be doing at The Beef, merely distracted by some yelling in the kitchen. The brief directions consisted mostly of taking orders and ringing a bell. A real challenge.
"Yeah, so that's basically it." He gave you a pat on the back and your front almost hit the counter at the impact.
"No paperwork or formalities or anything?" You were almost suspicious of the fast speed at which this had all happened. Richie whipped his head around like you'd stated something crazy.
"Formalities? C'mon, what are we, the fucking White House? This is a family business, Cousin."
He patted you on the shoulder roughly. "Thanks, Richie," you said, both slightly amused and slightly unnerved. You tapped your fingers on the marble countertop, trying to seem casual. "Where's um ... where's Carmy?"
Richie scratched his head. "He's, uh, he's busy. He'll be out soon. Don't you worry, shortcake." He gave you a wink that you didn't know what to do with and turned back towards the kitchen. You were gonna have to talk to him about those nicknames in the workplace sooner or later.
You called out to him before he left into the kitchen, hesitant. "You're sure Carmen said he wants me to work here, right?"
Your eyes bore into Richie's for a moment, and it was almost like you could see the thoughts in his head visibly swarming about. His shoulder raised. "Well, he didn't exactly say he wanted you to, but anyone with fucking eyes can see that he wants you-"
"Richie!" Your jaw hung open in utter annoyance and bafflement. He frowned at you.
"What?"
You almost scoffed. "Did Carmen really not say it was okay for me to work here?" You looked around, bewildered. "Does he even know I'm here?"
Richie gestured his hands out to you. "Sure he does!"
You could tell just from his tone what your answer was. You put a hand on your hip, shaking your head to yourself. "I'm going in there to talk to him."
"No!" Richie's eyes widened. "No. Just calm down, and I'll talk to him."
You stared at him disbelievingly. He stared back at you challengingly with the confidence only Richie could have. "I'll be back in no time. I know what I'm doing, trust me."
Richie didn't know what he was planning on doing when he opened the door to the kitchen in search of Carmen. He just hoped he wasn't using a knife when he found him.
He turned a few corners before Carmen was in his line of view, hunched over the counter as he worked busily on something Richie couldn't see. He leaned against the counter next to him, watching Carmen as his focus didn't even falter.
"Carm."
He didn't get a reply, just the back of Carmen's head as he focused on reading the piece of paper in front of him, hand braced against the shining surface it lay on.
"Carmy."
The man in question slowly shifted his focus to the man next to him, whose distracting presence had become impossible to ignore. "What? What is it?"
Richie peered down at him. "Promise that you won't get mad."
Carmen's eyes narrowed. "What the hell did you do?"
"Just promise me you won't fucking blow up at me like you always do."
"Why would I promise that if I don't even know what the hell you did?"
Richie tipped his head back exasperatedly. "Just say you promise!"
"I fucking promise! Okay?" Carmen ran a hand through his hair, moving it again to cross his arms. "Now, what is it?"
Richie paused, kicking out his foot and casually peering down at it with feigned interest. "Mars Bar is outside right now. Again."
Carmen's forehead creased and he looked over at Richie with sudden alarm. "What? Why? Is she okay?"
Richie gave him a knowing look, smug for a moment. "Yeah, she's fine." He shrugged. "I just, um, might have given her a job here up at the register."
Carmen's face was unmoving, his tone raising with poorly hidden anger. "You what?"
"And I might've also told her you really wanted her to work here."
Carmen's eyes scanned Richie's sporadically like he couldn't process his words fast enough. "Wh- Why the fuck would you do that? I already told her no-"
"Yeah, and I told her yes. Because you're an idiot and I'm saving your ass. You're welcome!"
Carmen ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly. "For what? Fucking me over?"
"I did not fuck you over, Carm, I'm doing this for you!"
Carmen shook his head, anger bleeding its way through his mind. "What the hell are you talking about? I told you, Richie, I don't want her anywhere near this place. I- I thought that was understood."
"No, it was not fucking understood because it was a stupid idea." Carmen let out a scoff as Richie put his hands out to Carmen in a calming gesture. "This is a good thing, trust me."
Carmen sputtered. "How the fuck is it-"
"Shut the fuck up and listen to me, Carm!" Richie shouted, bravely putting a hand up in front of Carmen's face. He pointed his finger at him which Carmen regarded with annoyance. "You need to stop being a moron and pushing away every single fucking female that tries to come within ten feet of you, alright?"
Carmen's brows furrowed even further, confusion building alongside anger. "I really have no goddamn idea what your point is here, Richie, but this has nothing to do with-"
"Oh spare me, Cousin!" He shouted. "We all know you've had the hots for Mars Bar over there since you were kids, alright?"
Carmen's mouth clamped shut immediately at this, his breathing coming out in fumes. He shook his head back and forth.
"Is this what this whole fucking thing is about, you jagoff?"
"Woah woah woah!" Richie cut in. "I am not the jagoff here, Cousin. I'm helping you out!"
"Richie's right, Carm," cut in Fak from behind, appearing suddenly out of nowhere like he always seemed to.
"Shut the fuck up, Fak!" Carmen held his head in his hand, trying to grab hold of his temper that he could feel slipping out of control. He needed to breathe.
"She can't work here."
Richie raised his arms in a shrug. "Well, you're gonna have to go tell her that yourself."
"I fucking will."
Carmen stormed off towards the kitchen door, ready to tell you yet again that you had to leave, a daunting thought overlooked thanks to adrenaline. Richie chuckled from behind him. "Yeah right, like you're gonna fire her."
Carmen didn't let himself listen to Richie any longer. Fists clenched at his sides, he opened the door and there you were, standing there, looking confused and a little surprised with parted lips.
Richie came up from behind and patted him on the back. "Go on, Carm. Tell her."  You watched as Carmen's jaw clenched.
Carmen really wanted to tell you that you couldn't work here. That you had to go home. That you had to run far away from this place and go back to studying abroad and being more successful than any of them and all of that bullshit. Maybe it was because your eyes were shining a little too bright in the restaurant lighting, or that they looked a little too hopeful as they stared back at him with raised brows, waiting. But he didn't say anything of those things.
"You..." he started. Your eyebrows raised further. His palms suddenly became sweatier. He took a breath in.
"You, um," a beat passed. He licked his lip. "You're gonna need an apron."
Your eyes lit up even more if possible, and he thought his heart would give out. Then, you ran up and threw your arms around his neck in a tight hug, and he genuinely questioned if his brain had short-circuited because, by the time he came back to reality, you'd already pulled away and were practically jittering with excitement from in front of him.
"Thank you so much, Carm." Every time you smiled at him in that way he felt himself lose a bit of control. He didn't like the feeling. "You won't regret it."
He smiled back at you because he couldn't not. He wasn't so sure.
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Carmen had given you your apron. When he'd handed it to you, you'd brushed fingers and your heart skipped a little beat at the contact. That had been the most eventful thing to occur within the next four days.
You'd done practically nothing at The Beef all week. There'd been a noticeable lack of customers coming into the restaurant to take orders, and those who did oftentimes came in just to see Richie, which had you leaning against the counter waiting and listening to their loud conversations with the man.
It felt like there was some sort of prank being played on you. Surely they wouldn't pay you money for doing absolutely nothing. All the waiting around doing close to nothing made you antsy, frustrated, and confused.
You'd been meaning to address this to Carmen, to ask what you were doing wrong, but getting a hold of him was near impossible. You'd seen so little of Carmen that you couldn't even be sure he came into work most days, the only confirmation being his shouts coming from the kitchen at the others. As embarrassing as it was to admit, you became jealous of them. You'd take Carmen shouting orders at you in the kitchen any day over him saying nothing to you at all. It almost felt like he was avoiding you.
It was a Thursday night, and the antsy feeling inside of you had you staying late at work that night, wiping down tables with an intense amount of fervor.
You'd thought you were the last one in The Beef. It'd been dark for hours, but you had nobody and nothing exciting waiting for you at home, so working a little extra couldn't hurt. And, if it made Carmen notice your position at The Beef at least a little bit, it would be worth it.
As your thoughts drifted to the man, something made a noise from the kitchen, and it became apparent to you that maybe you weren't the only one working late that night.
"Hello?" You'd said aloud, your voice slightly echoing in the vacant restaurant. No response was returned. You slowly went back to scrubbing down a table against the far wall from the kitchen door when it swung open, and there stood Carmen Berzatto in his patchwork wool jacket, looking like seeing you was the last thing he'd expected.
The sight was jarring to you for a number of reasons. You jumped up speedily and tucked the rag you'd been using to clean tables slightly behind you as if he hadn't already seen you using it.
"Mars Bar?" He said, the nickname falling easily from his lips like it was the only one he'd ever known you by. He eyed your tense stance.
"Hey, Carmen." Your smile was just as unnatural. His eyebrows pulled downward at you, eyes squinting and blinking confusedly in the dim lighting like he was fighting sleep.
"What are you doing here so late?" You nibbled at your own lip. Carmen, even from across the room, made sure to follow the movement. You noticed him eye the rag in your hands.
"I was just cleaning off some of the umm ... some of the tables." You didn't know why you sounded so embarrassed. You also didn't know what was going through Carmen's mind as he looked over you, and then over the spotless tables behind you.
"Wow," he began, running a hand through his hair. "You really didn't have to do all this. It's not ... it's not part of your job, you know?" A feeling bitter and stale simmered inside of you.
"I know." You stood up straighter. "Maybe I just wanted to.
You wanted to say more in the moment, tell him all of your frustrations, but you didn't. You just stared back at him and watched as he walked towards where you stood by the tables. You didn't move an inch.
His eyes surveyed the tops of the tables and he marveled at how clean they were. Not just clean, but almost sparkling, even in the low lighting that came from a single overhead lamp and the streetlights from outside.
"You did a great job, Chef."
Your eyebrows raised unintentionally. He'd never called you that before, though you'd heard the name from his lips aimed at others countless times. He noticed your reaction.
"What?" He asked, eyeing you curiously. He leaned back against the table next to you, his beautiful stare almost becoming a little too much for you after a long day. You shrugged.
"Nothing. It's just," you paused, "you've never called me that before."
His expression was slightly confused, slightly amused. "Well," he began, gaze shifting from the ground to you. "Now I do. You work here, don't you?"
The question settled uncomfortably in your chest, and you let out a laugh that sounded just as strained. "Hardly."
Carmen's eyebrows flashed downwards in a quick frown. "What do you mean 'hardly'?" You felt his eyes scanning your face, scanning you. "What's up?"
You went back to rubbing at the corner of a nearby table with your rag if only to distract yourself from Carmen's gaze and the petty way your words sounded coming from your lips.
"I mean," you began. "It feels like I haven't really done much of anything around here, you know?" When he didn't say anything back, you continued. "I've only taken a handful of customer's orders in the past couple of days. And, I know I'm not the best cook in the world but I could definitely help out in the kitchen with something. Maybe I could cut up some stuff, or prep it, or whatever you guys call it. Anything, really."
He didn't say anything right away, and you became horrified that you'd pushed his buttons too many times in the last week with your rants and that he'd finally send you on your way once and for all. Then, you heard something like a laugh come from him. You reeled back.
"Is something funny?" You asked, your tone uncharacteristically sour. He silenced his amusement and looked at you intently.
"You've always been such an overachiever, Mars."
You paused, then shook your head. "Oh please, we all know you're the ambitious one."
"No, not when we were kids," Carmen argued. "I was never great in school. You, on the other hand," he chuckled under his breath. "My mom would have me go check in on you whenever we hadn't heard from you on a night before a test. Make sure you weren't overdosing on coffee and pop."
You swore you could feel your heart beating in your chest at Carmen's revelation and the fondness in his voice.
"You know," Carmen began again, getting lost in memories. "I think my mom used to have this theory I'd marry you one day or something. Said you were the only girl who'd put up with my stubbornness."
Oh my God. Your head was spinning. Why was he saying this? He didn't know what the hell he was doing to you. Or your heartbeat, which was concerningly gaining speed. He never did.
All you could say was, "Oh?"
He laughed some more like this was something casual, something funny. You couldn't help but notice that forever present weight present in his eyes, though. Something he could never seem to shed.
"Yeah, well," Carmen began again, "my mother has also been mentally unstable for years, so." He jokingly trailed off, his voice dying in the silence, along with any butterflies you'd felt. You laughed quietly, even if laughing was the last thing you wanted to do when hearing that.
You felt like you were being suffocated. By him and his blue eyes and his dry, self-deprecating jokes and the small quirk of his lips. You were also getting restless because you'd started off trying to talk with Carmen about your job, and now were getting lost in the haze of your feelings for him which you decided were useless and would get you nowhere. You cast them aside the best you could and looked him directly in the eyes.
"Carmen," you said. His attention focused directly on you. "Did you listen to any of the things I said about working here?"
He nodded. "Yeah," he assured you. "Of course."
"So, will you take them into consideration? Let me do more, Carmen. I can do more."
There was a beat of silence. He fidgeted, like he did when he was a boy and couldn't focus in class, or when he was nervous around a girl he'd liked. Nervous around you.
He wanted to say yes. Hell, he would've given you anything you'd asked for just to see you happy. But he didn't know what the consequences of giving you a more important role at The Beef would achieve. What it might stop you from achieving. What it might do to him. So, he didn't say anything. Not anything direct.
"I know you can, Mars." He exhaled and then put his hands in his pockets, eyes cast down. He glanced at his watch. "It's almost midnight. We can talk about this more in the morning. Okay?"
His response was like a smack in the face. A sharp pain that left a dull ache. You let a breath out and tried to keep your face from revealing your stubborn frustration. You slowly nodded. "Okay."
Even if you tried to contain your emotions, Carmen could see it. He noticed it in the quick flare of your nostrils as you breathed, in the slight clench of your jaw. Stupidly, he asked, "Is that okay?"
You weren't looking at him. You were looking at your feet. You tapped your foot once. "Yes."
Even more stupidly, he asked, "Are you sure?"
You finally shifted your focus to him and he felt his own jaw clench at the way it sent a rush down his spine.
"Yeah, Carmen." That was the first time he didn't like the way you said his name.
"Alright," he said, nodding slowly, lifting his bag higher on his shoulder.
"Alright."
You lifted the rag from the table, stood there for a second, and walked towards the counter, where you wrung it out and slapped it down into a bucket full of other dirty rags, and left it there. You didn't feel much like putting it away.
Carmen hadn't moved and just stood there by the tables, watching as you collected your coat from behind the counter and turned off the lights as you walked past.
When he saw you walking towards the door, he rushed to get there first, to open it for you. You beat him to it, opening it yourself. He closed it and locked the door behind him. You both were engulfed by the dull chill of the air right away, and you couldn't help but shiver.
Carmen turned to you. "Let me drive you home." He didn't dare offer you a lighthearted smile or anything of that sort. He didn't think he had it in himself to be lighthearted, anyways.
You gifted him a polite one with a short tug of your lips. "I have a car. Thanks."
Carmen could've smacked himself right there. "Right." He didn't know what was wrong with him. "Sorry." The apology was for more than just his assumption, but he couldn't bring himself to clarify.
"I'll walk you to your car then?" He asked, though you knew no matter what you said he'd make sure you'd get to your car safely either way.
"Okay, yeah."
You both turned to walk to your car, Carmen letting you take the lead for a moment before catching up to walk side by side with you. You were hit with the reality that Carmen Berzatto was walking you to your car, alone with you, at midnight. A small gesture that had your mind buzzing from the contrast between your love for him and your frustration with him. Nobody had come close to making you feel the emotions Carmen made you feel, even if no words were shared between both of you on that short walk. It felt completely silent. Somehow, even if the streets of Chicago were anything but, it felt silent.
Carmen thought about how his life was full of silent moments, never saying what he truly wanted to, to the people he wanted to speak to the most. When he noticed you were cold, even through your jacket, he walked a little closer to you. Whether you noticed it or not, he didn't know, but at least it soothed a small part of his mind that was blaring that night, telling him that he'd fucked up with you. That you deserved better. He couldn't help but think that same thing when he was around you, all the time.
You'd both crossed the street to reach your car in not even a full minute, but the walk had felt eternal to you. When you turned to Carmen to tell him goodnight, he was already looking at you intently. You wanted to ask what he was thinking, but you didn't, and unlocked your car.
"See you in the morning, Carmen," you said, tone unrevealing. He gave you his best neutral smile.
"Yeah. See you, Mars."
You went to open your car door, but this time he beat you to it. Even if he made you angry, he was still Carmen.
You watched as he rounded the front of your car back to the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, soft breathing visible in the cold from the white puffs it made in the air as he breathed.
You gave him one last wave as a goodbye, but by that time he was pretty much out of vision, and then drove away.
He watched your car drive down the street, stop at the light, turn the corner, and then glide out of view.
Immediately, he knew he should've said more on the walk to your car. He should've at least apologized. He didn't tell you that he was sorry for being so shitty. He didn't tell you he appreciated everything you did. He also didn't tell you his car was parked on the opposite end of the street.
And as he walked back to it, crossing The Beef again with its spotless tables, he thought about nothing except you.
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The next morning had you waking up with a headache that only worsened when you stepped foot into The Beef. Your coworkers were shouting and blurting out orders in typical kitchen lingo that you honestly didn't fully understand.
There seemed to be an underlying tension simmering in the air that morning that had everyone's voices raised just a little bit more than usual, echoing through to you from your designated spot behind the front counter.
You figured out soon that that tension came from the review of The Beef that had been put in the paper the night before. It was the same topic that had Sydney and Richie arguing back and forth for minutes on end next to you.
"So this is a war on poor people?" You heard Richie ask as you finally tuned back into their yelling. "I see you."
"No," Sydney yelled back. "This is a war on you shutting the fuck up and learning how to use the tablet! The end dude."
"What is the end?"
You turned to your left to see Carmen stride out of the kitchen, looking every bit intense, shoulders hunched and rigid. He glanced at you in some form of a greeting for only a second before putting himself between Richie and Sydney and somewhat settling their argument.
"Are we ready?" He asked them with a rushed tone.
"No!" Sydney snapped, but headed back into the kitchen with Richie, even if you could see she wanted to punch the man in the face.
You turned back around to watch Carmen as he hurriedly ran a hand through his hair and started to rush back into the kitchen. You tried to catch his eyes, but he didn't meet your gaze.
"Um, Chef?" You tried to call, reaching out an arm to get his attention just a hair too late, him brushing past you without taking notice of you.
"Carmen?" This time he turned around, head flipping around to focus on you with eyes shot wide in the rush.
"What's up?" He asked, eyes quickly assessing your face. For a second you forgot what you were supposed to be asking.
"Did you, um, think about what I said last night?" He blinked back at you. "You said we'd talk about it in the morning, so, could we maybe talk about it?"
With the way he stared back at you, for a second you could've sworn he'd forgotten what you were talking about. Then, it had clearly dawned on him and he squeezed his eyes shut for a second, holding out a hand to his head.
"No, yeah, right." He thought for a second, and then looked around, peeking into the kitchen, attention clearly spread elsewhere.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "Can we just ... talk about this another time?"
You tried not to show your frustration. "Like when?"
"Uh," Carmen started, but he was already backing into the kitchen. A loud clanging noise of pots and pans rang through to the front, and his focus was completely lost. "Who the fuck keeps denting my pans, Chefs?!" He shouted. He threw the kitchen door open and moved to go inside, but not before calling out "We'll talk later, Chef!" and disappearing into the kitchen.
You groaned. "Later," could mean any time between that day and Easter. You didn't want to blame Carmen. You knew he was extremely busy and tended to overwork himself. But something in the back of your mind told you he was avoiding you. You didn't like the feeling.
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It'd only been maybe an hour into the day when all hell started to break loose in the kitchen. At least from what you could hear. There was three times as much yelling as usual and people were weaving through the station by the front counter and the kitchen, shouting sandwich orders. Meanwhile, you felt lost and unhelpful, with no direct answer as to what was going on.
You'd spent your time filling up the napkin dispenser and cutting green tape, feeling your uselessness in your bones. Maybe Carmen was right. Maybe you were overly ambitious. That didn't change the fact that now it seemed like not just Carmen, but everyone else had gone out of their way to keep you away from the kitchen.
You'd thought about going in there anyway, but thought better of it when listening to the commotion. That was, until you saw Marcus with his bags taking his leave towards the exit, a look of both anger and defeat on his face.
"Woah, Marcus," you called out with furrowed brows. "What's wrong? Where are you going?"
He let out a quick breath from his nose that sounded like it was supposed to be a wry laugh. He pointed towards the back. "Anywhere but in that kitchen." You frowned and he shook his head. "He's losing his shit, man."
You were confused and looked to him for more of an explanation, but he was already walking out the door and it didn't seem like he had any plans of coming back. You wanted to ask him "who?", but you had a sinking feeling in your gut telling you that you already knew just who he meant.
That and the loud "Fuck!" that came from the other side of the wall was the last push you needed to finally storm into the litchen. As soon as you walked in, it was a complete overload to your senses. The sounds and smells of sizzling food, the clunky buzzing of timers, and an argument at practically every corner. What had you reeling to a stop, though, was the sight of Carmen shouting truly throat-tearing orders, face turning red with exertion, hair damp from sweat, skin gleaming in the sight.
"Can somebody get me a Sharpie that fucking works?!" he screamed while whipping a Sharpie out of his hand and onto the ground. Your eyes widened at the sight.
"Woah," you said aloud, not even meaning to say the word but being unable to stop yourself. When you did, Carmen's focus switched onto you in a second and you could see the pure chaos held behind his eyes.
"Wh- what the fuck are you doing in here?"
You frowned at his abruptness. "I just wanted to know what the hell is going on in here-"
"Nothing is going on in here."
Someone laughed from around the corner and about three more timers began to buzz and beep.
"Oh please, I've been hearing screaming for hours and then I see Marcus storming out of here with his things saying you've lost it."
At that, Carmen paused, eyes searching yours intently. "Marcus left?"
"Yeah," you answered steadily, unsure of how exactly he'd react. "It looked like he was quitting."
For a second, it looked like Carmen felt guilty, sad, but then he was fuming and slamming his hands down on the counter.
"Fuck!" He shook his head back and forth like he was rummaging through a thousand thoughts swirling around his head. He shouted again. "Fuck!"
You didn't like the sight before you, or the way Carmen seemed to be losing control of himself, and quickly. "Now can you tell me what the problem is?" You almost pleaded. "I could help."
Carmen hardly bothered to look you in the eyes and strode past you to reach the oven you'd been standing by, lifting the lid of a pot and adjusting the heat at lightning speed.
"You're not seriously ignoring me right now when I'm offering to help-"
He put up a hand. "I told you I'd talk with you later, Mars. Go back to the register."
You scoffed. "What the hell are you talking about? That's-" you shook your head. "I'm not leaving until I at least know what the fuck is going on."
"You wanna know what the fuck is going on?" Richie shouted out, laughing to himself loudly as he appeared from behind the corner. "Some moron left the pre-order option open on her beloved tablet overnight and now we're 250-something beefs behind schedule!"
Your head was spinning from the news and from the lack of air in the kitchen, but the yelling kept coming.
"Okay, well, the 'moron' is right here and she has a name, thank you," cut in Sydney, livid. "And there is no fucking way you are putting all the blame on me right now, Richie-"
"Who else's fucking fault is it sweetheart?"
"Richie, I swear to God if you call me that one more time-"
"Shut the fuck up!" Carmen's booming voice split the two of them apart. "Shut the fuck up and get back to work!"
They listened and went back to their stations angrily mumbling to themselves. That didn't change the fact that you knew the kitchen was in deep shit and Carmen was one wrong move away from losing his mind. You watched as he stormed around the kitchen to different stations. You'd be an idiot if you just stood at the register waiting for more nonexistent orders.
"Sydney," you called out as she passed by. "What can I do to help?"
She raised the corners of her lips in a slightly surprised smile and thought for a second.
"You can probably start by helping me with peeling these potatoes for now." She handed you a basket filled with potatoes and pointed towards a metal peeler on the counter. You quickly nodded.
"Okay, on it, Chef."
"Great. Oh, and-"
"Sydney, what the fuck are you doing?" yelled Carmen as he rounded the corner behind Sydney. He glanced angrily back and forth between you and the potatoes in your hands.
Sydney rolled her eyes. "What does it look like I'm doing, Chef? I'm getting us some very much necessary extra help."
"We don't need any fucking extra help right now!"
Sydney turned fully to face him. "Carmy what the fuck is your problem right now? Just let her fucking peel some potatoes!"
Carmen was breathing heavily, a vein in his neck visibly contracting."I told you guys she stays out front. I told everyone she's not supposed to-"
"Excuse me?" You asked, cutting in. He was talking about you like you weren't standing right behind Sydney, hearing his every shouted word. "Sydney's right. You need to stop getting so worked up about this!"
Carmen looked like he wanted to scream. To break out into shouts even louder than even those from this morning. You'd only seen Carmen worked up like this a few times before and even then he knew when he was taking things too far.
He didn't say anything back to you and just turned away.
"Someone just get her out of here!" He hollered, to anyone who'd listen. Anyone but you. Somehow, that was even more angering than his yelling.
"Hey!" You yelled, shoving his shoulder back to turn him to face you. He glanced down towards the same shoulder before looking back towards you. You saw something haughty flash behind his eyes as they stared back at you. "Whatever you need to say about me, you can say it to me, Carmen."
He was definitely speaking to you now.
"I need you to stay the fuck out!" He pointed a finger down at you. "You never fucking listen to me! I gave you this job because you fucking asked me to, because Richie fucking asked me to. So how about you finally listen to me and stay the fuck out?!"
You knew everyone had stopped to watch. It was quieter in the kitchen than it had been all morning.
You both stood standing there with heavy breathing. Your mind couldn't think of what to say back in that moment, but a thousand different responses played through your mind. Things you wanted to ask, to shout, to make sure he understood.
Your stare bore into Carmen's own for a few seconds, noticing the anger in them, but also something fragile threatening to shatter and reveal itself. He looked away from you quickly, bracing a hand on the counter.
"Leave, Chef." He said. You didn't need to be asked twice. Not that he was asking.
"Yeah," you laughed under your breath. You untied your apron and left it on the counter. "I definitely will."
He could call you Chef, but he wouldn't even let you enter the kitchen. He could yell at you, but he couldn't even look you in the eyes as you finally left the kitchen.
Another timer went off in the background as Carmen stood there, mulling over what he'd just done in his head; the one thing, most of all, he didn't want to happen.
Sydney shook her head, brushing past him. "Carmen Berzatto, you are a fucking idiot."
He didn't have anything to say, nothing to argue back with. He knew she was right. And as he heard the front door jingle as a sign of you leaving, he also knew just how badly he'd fucked up.
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You didn't come to work the next day, or the day after that. Carmen never got to listen for the jingle of the doorbell as you came into work. He didn't get a single glimpse of you, those glimpses that were like caffeine shots, keeping him going every day. He didn't see your warm, familiar eyes that reminded him why he kept going in the first place. This was what he got for trying to keep you at arm's length. For being an asshole. The regret knawed at him painstakingly.
When the first hour went by and you didn't show up, he didn't need anyone to tell him that you wouldn't come into work that day. He had Richie cover the register in your place, an order shouted quickly as he was forced to think about things other than you. And as the day went on, the fact that he didn't know when he'd see you again was a heavy weight that lay in his chest, waiting to be addressed.
You awoke that morning in your apartment, phone lighting up beside you on your bedside table to four missed calls all from the same person. A person you didn't really feel like talking to much.
You checked the time and saw it was almost noon. It wasn't like you to sleep in. And, you hadn't called in sick to work. Not that it mattered.
The next day went the same. You hadn't called in sick that morning either, but you didn't have it in you to care. You didn't even know if you wanted to come back, but there was a twisting feeling inside of you that you knew wouldn't feel release until you settled things with Carmen. The hard part would lay in being upfront with him, not letting him make any excuses, and not letting yourself soften all because he was Carmen Berzatto. A battle between your pride and whatever you felt for him.
Carmen had called you two more times, but soon, the calls stopped coming. Carmen may have been an asshole at times, but he wasn't an idiot. In fact, he was extremely smart. And definitely smart enough to know that calling you repeatedly would get him nowhere, not when he'd been as awful as he had.
You'd spent the day driving around running errands that left you tired with boredom. The sun was setting as you walked back to your own front door, the air crisp and clear from the cold while your mind felt anything but. You reached your front doorstep and unlocked the entrance to your apartment, only to step forward and feel something crunch and mash underneath the heel of your shoe. You lifted your foot and glanced downward.
A candy bar. You peered down further. A Mars Bar.
Something inside of you paused. Maybe your heartbeat, maybe your thoughts. You weren't sure but you could feel it. The now half-smushed candy bar lay on the floor like a bittersweet memory.
You blinked. There was a note. It looked like it had been torn from the corner of something messily. More importantly, there was writing on it, in pencil, words pressed hard into paper.
I'm an asshole. You don't deserve that.
No name, but you knew who it was from. Not a "sorry" in sight, but you knew he was trying. You could almost feel the intent behind the words etched into the paper as you held it. You wanted to be furious still. And you definitely were mad. But maybe not as much. Because you knew Carmen.
You knew he had the temper of someone who'd just lost a brother, of someone who'd grown up in a screaming Berzatto household in the heart of Chicago. You'd never taken his outbursts to heart and you didn't want to now. Besides. You knew, eventually, you'd miss him too much to ignore him.
So much for not giving in to Carmen Berzatto.
You didn't really know what plan you had when you walked back towards your car, sat down, placed the chocolate bar and note in your bag, and drove. You didn't think you had one. You just were aware that your days away from The Beef had been extremely boring and that you wanted to see Carmen. To hear what he had to say to you. Even if it didn't end the way you wanted.
The familiar path to The Beef stretched before you now as an uncertain one. When you got there, you tossed your bag over your shoulder and got out of your car to the sight of the lights off in the front of the restaurant. But, if you knew anything about Carmen, you knew he'd stay late. Your assumption was proven right when you entered through the unlocked door—a slightly concerning fact—and saw the harsh white light of the kitchen flooding through to the rest of the place.
You hesitated to enter, not sure if you really knew what you were doing, but ignored the thoughts plaguing you and walked carefully into the kitchen, waiting at the door when you saw him.
He faced mostly away from the door, from you, hunched over the counter doing something that had his full focus, enough of it that he didn't notice you at first. You saw he had a toothbrush in hand and that he was determinedly scrubbing at the silver countertop surface that already sparkled spotlessly. Clearly, he didn't notice or care.
It felt like you were holding your breath as you watched him, saw how focused he was, how the muscles in his back flexed and churned with each precise movement he made as he scrubbed at a nonexistent stain. Like he held a desire to erase more than just grime.
He did that for what felt like another minute without pause, and you watched the whole time wordlessly, not wanting to break the focus he had and not knowing what to say regardless. Part of you just wanted to watch him, to see how long he could keep at it without noticing you. It wasn't for too long.
He lifted his posture upright and ran a hand through his hair, inhaling deeply with little exhale as if something weighty was plaguing him. Then, he finally sensed your presence at the doorway, eyes flicking towards you as his moments came to a halt. You watched him part his lips as he thought about what to say.
He shakenly said your name, a fragile plea. The word was soft coming from his lips like he knew it well, but nestled in your brain with surprise as he called you by your real name, not just a nickname. You didn't know what to say, so you didn't say anything at all.
As he looked at you standing in the doorway, he felt exposed, like you could see through any walls he'd tried to build around himself. Words faltered from his brain. His lips parted again as if he was going to say something more, but they shut just as quickly and he ran a hand over his chin. He gestured that hand out to you.
"You uhm- did you get my note?"
You stared back at him for a beat before nodding and reaching into your bag. You held the note out in front of you, the side of your mouth quirking upwards. "Was this Carmen language for 'I'm sorry' ?"
You were half kidding and half serious, a test hidden in your words. The fact weighed on Carmen's brain, his demeanor more nervous than usual, more anxious.
"Yeah, uhm," he scrunched his eyes closed for a half second before walking towards you, taking the note from your hand and reading it to himself again, feeling the warm haze of shame creeping up on him. "Let me translate."
He read it once more. "Well, the 'I'm an asshole,' is pretty verbatim. I'm an asshole, and an idiot, and a bunch of other bad things." He glanced up at you from the paper and was relieved to see that you seemed at least a little amused. He continued. "And the 'You don't deserve that', you see, that's the good part, it translates directly to 'I'm sorry for yelling at you ' and 'it doesn't matter how stressed I was, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. That was wrong of me. And ... you're great.' "
Your eyebrows raised. "That's quite the translation."
Carmen laughed to himself breathily, but it held little amusement. "Yeah, I've been told communicating with me is like trying to tame a wild animal."
You smiled. "Who told you that?"
"Sugar."
Your laugh was warm and sounded like home. It was a feeling that left as fast as it came because soon the air between the two of you seemed to thicken with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. The heavy silence lay bare and neither of you decided to fill it right away.
"Carmen."
The way you said his name sent shivers down his spine, a sensation that never ceased to affect him. He nodded at you, eyes studying your face showing that you had his sole attention.
"I know you don't like the idea of me being here. You don't have to try and hide it." His eyes widened as you spoke."But, could you at least tell me why?"
He stared back at you, brows furrowed like he was confused. It was like you could see the gears turning in his brain as he fought to find the right wording, revealed by the stiffening mass of his shoulders that never seemed to relax.
"I don't not like you being here, Mars Bar." He spoke slowly. "I think it's great that you're back in Chicago. I ... We've missed you."
A subtle warmth lay in his gaze, but you couldn't help but feel it was dimmed by whatever emotion he'd been suppressing, the battle evident in flickers in the blue of his eyes.
"I want to believe that, but with the way you've been avoiding me, how can I?"
"Avoiding you- that's," he shook his head, almost seeming incredulous, and you watched as he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did. "I haven't been trying to avoid you."
You didn't know how he could sound surprised, how you could've interpreted the way he's acted all week as anything else. "Well that's definitely what it's felt like when I tried talking to you all week, and you're just ... I don't know, dismissive."
He rubbed a hand at the nape of his neck, focus pitched somewhere that wasn't at you, jaw tightening slightly. "I just ... it's busy around here trying to bring in enough money, and there have been a lot of different things that have my focus right now," he started, as if he hadn't, time and time again, had to remind himself to stop thinking about you.
"Carmen, I know you're busy but that-," you tried to keep your emotions from showing through your voice, but you were aware of the tinge of frustration that was slipping through. "I know that's only part of it. I just need you to be more transparent with me. I can't read your mind."
He nodded, silently thanking God that you couldn't. He swallowed again and you noticed a tremor in the way he held the note he'd written, a sign of unease that he quickly hid in the pocket of his jeans.
"I'll tell you anything you want to know." His blue eyes stared into yours, though you could sense the reluctance in his voice. "But I'm not gonna lie and say that I think it's a good idea for you to stay here."
You felt yourself frown, brows tugging downwards in frustration and confusion. "Why?"
His gaze faltered for just a moment, seeming torn, but he was quick to regain his momentum. "This place is ... it's not meant for someone like you."
You squinted at him, feeling a mix of disbelief and irritation. "Someone like me?"
"Yeah, I just mean," he hesitated, hearing the way you repeated his words, like they were meant to insult. "You were supposed to leave here and finish your studies abroad and achieve great things. Things bigger and better than this shit hole. You were gonna-"
"Carmen, stop." You almost scoffed to yourself. "My plans were always to stay close to home. A few months abroad weren't gonna change that." The air in the room seemed to thicken with the weight of the words you both shared, the thoughts never said allowed before. You noticed your breathing was becoming labored as you failed to understand the way Carmen's mind worked, the way he tried to communicate so much by doing so little.
"This whole time you were worried about me supposedly being meant to achieve great things, but what about you?" You let out a stunned laugh. "You're the one who studied with the best of the best, traveled all over, became a world-class chef and everything else, and now you're overworking yourself at this place and refusing help."
"Yeah, well, that part of my life stopped when Mikey gave this place to me as a final fuck you, so."
Your heart twinged not only at the name, but at the way Carmen's eyes flashed with hurt while his words could've cut stone.
"Mikey gave this place to you because he trusted you," you reasoned. You tried to make him come down from wherever he was, to detach himself from the hurt and open up. The hard plane of his shoulders lifted once in a shrug, with a small shake of his head as he stared at the ground.
"Yeah well, he just ended up fucking screwing me over."
Carmen's frustration seeped into his voice, the way he emphasized each word like he wanted to release whatever was simmering under the surface. You wanted to reach out, tell him that he could, but you held yourself back and stood up taller.
"That doesn't mean you should push people away from this place. Push me away. I could help out here. I saw how hectic it was the last time I was here and-"
"That day was a fluke," Carmen cut you off. "It's not usually like that..." his jaw worked. "I'm not usually like that." His words were laced with exasperation and a little bit of shame. You could tell he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.
"Carmen, I understand. But-"
"I already blew up at you." His voice cut into the air harshly. He looked away, his chest rising as he tried to control rising frustration. "I didn't mean to do that, I don't... I'm not gonna let that happen again." His words were starting to come out in a rush, escaping his control, something you knew never sat well with him.
"Well, that's my choice to make, Carmen, not one that you can make for me."
"Mars, The Beef isn't- you don't want to settle for this place, just trust me."
"How can I trust you when you've done nothing but push me away since I got here?" You heard the tremble that was growing in your own voice, a mix of hurt and anger. "You've told me a million times what I want and don't want. Have you ever stopped to ask me what I wanted? Seen my point of view?"
Carmen's breathing was picking up too, the crystals that were his eyes looking at you with a mixture of defiance and desperation. He ran a hand over his face.
"I've tried to see your point of view."
"Have you?" you snapped back.
"I gave you the job even though I knew it was a bad idea, I went against what I knew just because it was you and I let Richie convince me it was a good idea, and I am fucking done listening to Richie's ideas-" his breathing was becoming uneven as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.
"Hey, Richie's done a lot more to help me since I've gotten back than you have, and a lot more listening!" Now you were yelling, and he was yelling and you didn't like the direction this was going.
"Yeah, well did Richie tell you this place was hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt when Mikey gave it to me? Did he tell you we probably couldn't even afford to pay you a decent fucking salary?"
You opened your mouth, expecting to be equipped with a response as fast as the ones that came before, but that didn't happen and you didn't say anything. You let your eyes scan Carmen, searching for a hint that he wasn't serious, but he looked wholeheartedly sincere and angered. In fact, he looked like he was fighting to even breathe steadily.
You looked at him concernedly, taking a step closer, but he just continued, laughing to himself without joy. "He didn't fucking tell you. Of course not."
His breaths were harsh, coming from his nose and lifting his chest repeatedly. His arms slapped down at his sides, hands trembling. "See, that's why I fucking told him I didn't want you anywhere near this crap hole, I fucking told him-"
His yelling stopped. He recoiled, backing up into the counter recklessly, a pot falling behind him with a clang that had you flinching. His vision was pointed downwards towards the ground, but he was frowning so hard you were sure he couldn't see anything at all, hand to his chest, gripping.
"Carmen?" You asked, alarm suddenly overtaking you and washing away whatever anger had been bubbling inside of you. "Wh- are you okay?"
It took him a second to even process what you'd said, another to respond. "I'm fine, I-" you put a hand on his shoulder to brace him, feeling how tense it was, feeling it trying to move with the effort of his shallow breaths. Panic, shame, embarrassment, everything, seemed to claw at his chest, constricting his breathing even more. "I just- fuck, I can't- I can't-"
"You can't breathe," you said, understanding what was going on now with another flash of alarm that you hid, trying to stay calm. He nodded shakily.
"Carmen," you said steadily. To him, the sound of your voice was distant, overshadowed by the sound of his heart pounding loudly in his ears, muffled the way voices sounded when from underwater. Carmen knew he wasn't underwater. You called his name again, and he did his best to hear it. "You're having a panic attack."
He managed to shake his head again. "I'm fine. I just- shit." His legs practically gave out from underneath him and he braced one hand on the table behind him, one on your shoulder.
The sight of Carmen collapsing to the ground had you wanting to release a sob, but instead, you threw Carmen's arm around you and somehow managed to take two steps towards a bucket that was on the floor against a near wall and got him to sit down on it unsteadily.
You took both of his hands in yours, noticing how his shoulders shook, how the bottom of his neck tinted red from the straining effort to breathe.
"Carmen," you called, kneeling down to his level and giving his hands a squeeze. His vision was blurred, staring downwards, but the hazy sight of his hands wrapped up in yours gave his mind a moment's peace before he was struggling to focus again.
You took a deep breath in, feeling selfish that you even could. "Carm, do your best to look at me." You purposefully slowed your words, spoke softly and clearly, and Carmen heard. You took one hand and rested it by his cheek, hair pooling into your fingers. You brushed it back, and ran your thumb across the rise of his cheekbone, lifting his face to look upwards at you. Even when his mind could hardly form coherent thoughts, your touch still affected him like no one else's.
Once his eyes were on you, you took the hand that was still holding his and placed both on your own chest, covering the area of warm skin close enough to feel your heartbeat. A tremor rolled through him, at your hand, at the way you felt, at your touch.
You. You were here, he thought, and that was a comfort to him in itself.
"Here," you said, pressing down gently but firmly on his hand. "Can you feel my heartbeat?"
Carmen tried, really tried, but his head wasn't focusing no matter what he did. You noticed his struggle right away, like he didn't even have to form words for you to know.
Hurriedly, you took off your jacket and threw it to the ground beside you. Carmen heard the sound of a zipper before his hand was taken in yours again and placed on your chest. This time, the underside of his hand felt warmer, closer to you, to skin.
"How about now?" you asked. His eyes were shut, and he really did his best to focus this time, tune into you, into the way your chest moved up and down beneath his hand, and with it, he heard the soft and steadying rhythm of your heartbeat.
"Yeah, I- I feel it."
You let yourself smile slightly, trying to take slow and deliberate breaths. "Carmen, I need you to do your best to match your breathing with mine." You looked at him and the way his features were scrunching with the effort of trying to listen to you. "Can you do that for me?"
He nodded. He'd do anything for you.
He focused on only his hand, yours, and you. Your chest underneath his palm, warm, and steadying, and alive. He felt it rise once, and fall, all in the time that he let out multiple staggering breaths.
The next time yours rose, he didn't let himself exhale until you did, taking in air from his parted lips and releasing it through his nose, feeling how the air spread thin throughout his body, a good feeling. He did that again, focused on the way his fingertips grazed bare skin, on the sound of your heart beating, in time with his now.
Behind the blank nothingness of his eyelids, scenes played out before him. Visions of his past, echos of familiar voices, spurts of color and light overtaking him.
Then, he thought of you, of the warmth of your gaze, even if he didn't deserve it. The shine of your skin, the way it looked soft even in the harsh light of the kitchen. Thoughts of you, you with him, years ago, months ago, and days, how he'd seen you for the first time in months, standing behind the counter with a smile sweet like the chocolate bars you'd always liked, the one he'd left at your doorstep, a weak attempt at salvaging one of the best relationships he'd ever known. He'd buy a million more if it meant you'd stay with him, by his side, like you'd been for years. Like you were now.
He didn't know how much time had gone by, but he opened his eyes and you were still there, still holding onto him, face looking calm but eyes swirling with emotion. With concern.
He felt fine now, his body having enough strength to support him, but he leaned into you regardless, head sunk down, resting in the place beneath your chin, on your chest. He wanted to get as close to your heartbeat as possible, not just feel it with his hand but surround himself with it.
You brought your hands up to envelop him, one resting on the white cotton covering the hard muscles of his back, rubbing it soothingly, the other coming up to rest in his hair again, gently brushing through the strands closest to the root as if to say I'm here, I have you.
You leaned your own head down to slightly rest on the back of his, mouth brushing against the crown of his head in a way so delicate he wasn't even sure he felt it. But you saw the way he melted into your touch, felt the way the muscles in his back slowly seemed to release tension at each caress. He needed to be held. But he was him, he'd never ask for it. But, you were you, and you'd always know.
You stayed like that for minutes more, though you would've held him all night if he needed it. When he sat back up, the whites of his eyes were tinted pink, and one of his cheeks was gleaming in the light, damp. You didn't comment on it. You didn't say anything at all but stood up from where you knelt and walked towards the counters, peeking underneath them until you found what you needed. You stopped at the sink and returned to your spot in front of Carmen with a plastic deli container filled with water in hand. You offered it to him wordlessly.
"Thank you," he said, taking it from you gingerly, but his voice was hoarse and he felt the red heat of embarrassment as he took large sips of the water, draining it halfway at once. A water droplet escaped from the side of the cup, dripping down his chin, and your eyes followed the movement until you felt guilty about it and stared down at your own hands. The two of you let the silence rest as it was, peaceful and healing, until you felt ready to break it.
"I'm sorry," you said, slightly a surprise for yourself to hear the words from your mouth, but you meant them. Carmen sat back up. "For pushing you to this point. I didn't mean to-"
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Carmen spoke quietly, voice somehow steady. "It- ... that wasn't your fault. It's happened before, when you weren't here."
You let your eyes scan over his face concernedly because he wasn't looking straight at you and you always felt the need to look after him, even if he wouldn't let you.
"This has happened before?" Carmen gave a weak shrug, like this wasn't something he thought about on his own, something he ever let occupy his focus.
"Something like it."
You made a breathy sound of disbelief. "Shit, Carmen."
So many thoughts were demanding your attention, too many. You wanted to tell him how this wasn't supposed to be a normal occurrence, how not okay it was to ignore his mental well-being. Shake him silly for never caring about the right things, for never caring about himself enough. To give him yet another lecture on letting you help him, on letting anyone help him.
"It wasn't as bad this time." His voice paused all your thoughts. "I think it was because you were here."
You didn't know how to respond, but he finally looked into your eyes and saw how much they spoke for you, how they widened, and then blinked once or twice, shying away. Almost like you were guilty, like you were sad. Something inside of him reminded him that he was probably part of the reason for that, and that ate away at him more deeply than any of his, like you said, panic attacks, ever had.
"I'm sorry, Mars."
Your eyes flicked up to his immediately, intention behind them. "You never need to apologize for having a panic attack, Carmen."
"No, for- for not just that." He paused. "For being an ass. For yelling at you. For not listening to you."
You looked at him wordlessly. You didn't want to say it was okay, because you'd be lying if you said that, if you didn't acknowledge how his words still rang sharply in your head. But you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't admit that Carmen certainly made things feel okay when he was calm like this, understanding. Peaceful.
"And I'm sorry for all the shit I gave you about not listening to me."
You let out a quick breath, almost a laugh. "To be fair, I ... didn't."
His heart seemed to swell at even just the hint of laughter that coated your voice.
"Yeah. You don't listen to me." He let the side of his mouth quirk up to match yours. "That's the thing I love about you." Internally he thought, just one of many.
You stared up at him. At the way his eyes seemed to look over your face in adoration. It did something to your heart, pulled on the strings of it, and left it panging in your chest. He noticed right away.
"You alright?" His concern and furrowed brows almost made you want to laugh.
"Yes I'm-," you exhaled. "I'm fine. The real question is, are you alright?" He watched as your eyes flitted all around his face. "To be honest, you don't seem it."
He self-deprecatingly chuckled. "Wow, thanks, Mars."
You shook his arm a little bit, expression disbelieving. "I'm serious."
You thought about how tense he'd been underneath your touch, how tense he'd seemed for the many days that you'd been back home. How that couldn't be healthy for anyone.
"You need to start taking better care of yourself, Carmen." You made sure he was hearing your every word. "Your mental health is important. More important than any job. You have to stop worrying so much about The Beef and start worrying more about you."
He ran a tired hand over his eyes, immediately feeling the urge to look away. "If I didn't put as much as I did into this place, I don't even think it'd still be up and running."
You let the words hang between the both of you for a moment, knowing how important this was to him. It was important to you too.
"I know how much you've done for this place, Carm." You took his hand in yours again. "You care about it a lot, always have. I have too. But you know the toll it's taking on you. That's not good for anyone, and it'll only last so long. And ... that's why I think you should take any help you can get, for now."
As soon as the topic left your lips again, you felt his hand stiffen in your hand, mouth opening to argue, but you held up a hand.
"And before you say anything, I don't care about the full salary, I don't I care about traveling, or 'wasting my potential' or any of that. I care about helping this place, making sure it lasts, for Mikey." You breathed. "And for you. I care about you."
He could feel his own heart start to race in his chest, flustered like he hadn't known you for years, like you weren't one of his oldest friends.
"I care about you too," he said, and the words felt shamefully foreign on his tongue, thinking about how little he'd ever actually said the words. "That's part of why it's hard for me to think about you working here. You mean a shit ton to me. More than anyone else in this damn place."
"You don't mean that." You couldn't stop the way your brows pushed together, looking down at your hand that was holding Carmen's rough and callused ones. "What about Richie, or Fak, or Sydney-"
"They mean a shit ton to me too, but it's ... not the same. You're you."
He looked into your eyes, trying to see if you'd recognized his hints, but he picked up emotions other than the realization. On a frown, on reluctance, on a guarded, shy look.
"I'll always be me, Carmen." You bit at the inside of your cheek, putting off the topic like you weren't important. That was a foreign idea to him. "That doesn't matter. What matters is you not accepting help."
You saw the way his demeanor shifted at your words, a sense of uncomfortableness settling in his bones, revealing itself in the way he sat up straighter. Your grip on his hands was still firm, unwavering, like all you wanted was to make him understand.
"Carmen," you called, but he was already staring at you. "Promise me that you'll let other people take care of you, help you get by. Let me help you."
He was grateful for the way he was positioned, elbows leaning on knees, hands held by yours, because it was stabilizing him, grounding him when he felt like running. He knew that if he wanted to keep you around, keep you by him, he couldn't do that. That didn't change the fact that this was new to him.
"I, um,"
"It doesn't have to all at once." You gave him a smile, a real one, because you knew he was trying. Breaking out of old habits, for you. "One step at a time."
You were back home. Him pushing you away in his head, running, but only in his mind, didn't change that. He didn't want it to. Despite the pull of his mind telling him to hold you at a distance, the push of his heart wanted you. It was drawn to the cradle of your hands, the warmth of your smile.
"I promise."
Your smile grew to a grin that tugged at the sides of your glowing eyes, eyes that sparkled with affection like they held a hidden invitation, a plea for him to let you in. He finally did, and he knew so fully that he would've made that promise to you time and time again if it meant he could have you and see that smile as much as he wanted.
Your fingers brushed the back of his hands as you stood up from where you were kneeling, letting out an exhale that he noticed sounded almost weightless, a change from the burdened way it sounded to him before. The thought put him at ease.
He stood up too, watching you as you retrieved your jacket and put it on, him feeling the urge to help you with even just that. When you focused back on him, the etches of a smile still lingering on your face, it was magnetic. He couldn't look away. You couldn't either.
You stared at the way a hundred different colors danced in the blue of his eyes, a miraculous feat that you'd loved from the start. As you looked at each other, eyes saying more than your mouths had the courage to, your smile grew slowly, heartbeat picking up in your chest.
"Let me walk you to your car," you coaxed, gesturing towards the door. He laughed at the random idea, breaths escaping through his nose.
"What? Why?"
You shrugged, smile and features and everything, warm. "Call it the first step to you fulfilling your promise to me."
Knowing how he'd iced you out, he embraced that warmth. Made it his new home. "Yeah," he nodded. "Okay."
You gestured for him to follow you, he did, and that was all he had to do. You turned off the lights behind the both of you, locked the door, and didn't ask him to do a thing, just to see the amused look on his face when you smiled at him, his eyes staring back at yours like you were a wonder, something rare to be loved and kept safe.
As you walked back to his car, that was all he could think about. How he'd come across this ray of light in his life that was you, and how you'd stayed by his side, a miraculous idea but he didn't even want to dwell on that too much because it took him away from this moment being shared between the two of you, alone, the cold nipping at your skin but it not mattering because too much had happened that night to care.
The moment seemed to come to an end all too quickly. Carmen had stopped once you'd both reached his car, and you did too. He became aware of the feeling of you next to him, savoring it because he knew it'd end the moment he got into his car.
"Carmy," you said, extending the moment just a little longer. He hummed in response, watching as you stuffed your hands in your coat pockets.
"Can you promise me one more thing?"
He nodded, not missing a beat. " Yeah, anything." Something inside of you fluttered. You cast it aside to hold his gaze.
"Promise me you'll always try and tell me what's going on in your head. No more hiding."
His eyes bore into yours like he was contemplating something, a flicker of conflict in them, a vulnerability that you didn't know what to think of. Then, it was gone and you weren't even sure you'd seen it.
"Yeah, I- um," his jaw tightened for a second. "I promise, Mars."
You patted him on the shoulder, a friendly gesture that felt phony even to you. "Great ... that's great."
He flashed a closed-mouthed smile and you both stood there on the sidewalk for a moment, not saying a word.
"Goodnight," you told him, because it was what you would've said to anyone else at that moment, ignoring the whispers in your mind telling you something was missing, that Carmen wasn't just anyone else.
Something tugged at him too, nagging him, insisting that he had more to tell you, more to say before the night was really over, before he had to go to work the next day and somehow navigate his day with the new promises he'd made you. But all he said was "Goodnight, Mars," before getting in his car with just a wave goodbye that felt bare and wrong.
You left him one more of your smiles through the passenger window of his car before walking off to wherever you'd parked your own. He was sure he'd felt butterflies. Butterflies.
Only you could do this to him. He'd felt numb, overwhelmed and unsatisfied all the same time for however long, and then you come back to Chicago and suddenly he felt everything, all the time. It was getting to him, clearly, because he found himself opening his car door and stepping out of it, losing control of his body, loosening his grip of rationality all because of you. Because he wanted to see you, needed to. He needed you.
You were a good distance away from his car by the time he'd gotten out of his, but you turned around at the sound of the car door practically slamming. You frowned, noticing Carmen walking towards you.
"Carmen?" you called into the night, confused. He caught up with you, something behind his gaze that had his eyes shimmering. You swore you could feel the delicate movement of his eyes across your face as soon as he was near enough to truly take it in.
He took hold of your hand, fingers interlocking with yours delicately, an electrifying feeling buzzing through you. You let out a small gasp at the contact, vision shooting down at the point at which you both touched, just a hand hold but the contact took your full focus.
"Hey," he said, something like a smile creeping onto his features and you'd never seen him like this, so exhilarated and full of delicate determination. You looked back up into his eyes, and he took a step closer, finally letting himself be pulled by that magnetic force calling him to you that he couldn't resist. He wouldn't, anyway.
"Wh-," you started, meaning to question him but the thought was brushed aside when he leaned inwards, his forehead falling against yours. His curls brushed against the top of your head, and you secretly loved the feeling, becoming breathless.
"You can tell me to stop, Mars." He murmured it so close to you, breath fanning onto your cheek in a distracting but addictive way, and suddenly you were forgetting how to talk. It didn't matter, because you didn't want him to stop. You looked back up at him, and he saw that in your eyes, so he didn't.
His lips brushed against yours, a taste of what he'd been wanting for longer than he could even remember. The feeling it sent throughout him was immobilizing, and he stayed like that, eyes shut, reveling in it.
It was you who closed the distance, pressing your lips to his and letting the dizzying wave from it spread all over you, to the tips of your fingers that immediately reached up to hold his firm shoulders, and to your brain that buzzed in joy and excitement and a bit of something else.
He froze up for a second when he felt your lips crashing into his. Your lips on his felt like the answers to all his problems, and he needed them in a burning, unignorable way. His brows furrowed and his hands reached up to cradle your neck delicately, holding you like you were more valuable than anything he could've bought, anything he could've wished for, could've imagined he could possibly have.
His lips tugged on yours and yours tugged back, a rhythm that felt easy to follow, like the deep thrum of a heartbeat. And when you both finally pulled apart for air, it was like you could still feel that rhythm, because your heartbeats were beating so loudly and in time with each other's that it felt like the moment was never meant to come to an end.
Your foreheads were still connected, and you knew neither of you had it in you to pull away. You felt somehow even more breathless.
"What was that for?" Your voice was soft, hoarse. You swore you saw Carmen's lip quirk upwards.
"I promised to not hide what was going on in my head." Your hands came up to delicately wrap around his biceps, impossibly solid underneath your fingertips. He didn't suppress the shudder that traveled through him. "Call that the first step."
You smiled, this time against his lips, and somehow that beat every single smile you'd ever given him before. It felt like a promise of your own, to share your warmth with him from now on. He liked the idea, a lot. He'd let you do it whenever you wanted, he liked it that much.
He'd let you take care of him whenever you wanted, too. Again and again, until you got sick of him. But he was Carmen Berzatto. You knew you never would.
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sykestarot · 2 months
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what is your destiny?
1-2-3 (left to right)
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I DO NOT OWN THESE IMAGES
Hi everyone, welcome to this weeks reading! I was called to do a destiny reading this week! Lmk if it resonates! Also I wanna credit the artist for these pictures that I used! They are Gawki here on tumblr and Instagram I just really loved the style of these unicorns. Anyways enjoy and thanks for stopping by!
Pile 1
"force my eyes into the pictures" (6 of swords; 4 of wands (rx); ace of pentacles; 7 of cups (rx); 8 of pentacles; The Hermit) Hi pile 1! I hope you guys are doing well! For you guys I see that you have a hard time either accepting your destiny or you don’t believe that destiny is at play. In terms of you believing that you make everything happen in your life. However I see that you’ve been trying to start new journeys for yourself and they haven’t exactly been panning out or been as lucrative as you thought they would be. That’s because your destiny in this lifetime is to learn flow and let things come to you. For example maybe you really wanted a promotion and you worked extra hard all of the time for it but someone else got the promotion you wanted without even trying because they were in a state of receiving. I’m not sure if this is making sense because the universe doesn’t not want you to work hard, it’s more like take a break and see what comes to you during that break. If you are constantly manifesting then there is no room to reap the benefits of your manifestations. I hope that makes sense, however in this reading I do feel underlying notes of you feeling like you're destined to be married to your work and be alone romantically, maybe even in terms of friends. This is another example of you not having space for other people because you put your work so far ahead of everything else including yourself. Are you a Capricorn? LOL. But I feel like you’ve lived many lives like this so in this life it’s time to put less value on monetary possessions and material things. Nurture your emotional self and you will be paid back more than you could ever imagine. Stop fighting against the grain and go with it. Work with the universe and yourself, not just the societal norms that you think you should be doing. I see you have a beautiful big house but it’s empty and you don't feel fulfilled because you don’t have anyone to enjoy it with you know? I believe in you though Pile 1! You can totally do it! Signs: youthful; cars; f1; soft grass; ponies; daisies; cameras; photography; 777; calabasas; office building; new york flat; city lights; bustling streets
Pile 2
"is it wrong of me to want this?" (queen of pentacles; ace of pentacles; 2 of swords; 10 of wands (rx); two of cups; 9 of wands (rx)) Hello pile 2!! Your energy is so fun and fresh. I’ve been cheesing the whole time I was channeling. Anyways about your destiny, did you just meet a romantic prospect recently? Or maybe you have a new coworker or friend in your circle?? I know you can feel the tension between the two of you. This is a heavily destined connection for you in this life, I feel like you and this have felt each other's energy for a long time but now you are in physical proximity to each other and you can just cut the tension with a knife. Now I don’t want you to feel any type of pressure to feel you have to be with this person in case you or them aren’t ready for anything but you guys are meant to cross paths now for a reason. There’s not much I can say on the way the relationship will play out and be in the future for you but I can say that this person will teach you how to let down your walls and trust again. Maybe you’ve been alone for a long time, or had a really bad break up that changed how you function sexually, or emotionally. This person is here to show you a softness that you’ve forgotten. I also feel like this person wants to worship the ground you walk on because they just can sense the divine energy you carry. I also feel the need to tell you that you do deserve a person who worships all that you do because you have done so much work in this life, whether for yourself or for others. You deserve to be the center of someone else’s universe just like how you make other people the center of yours. Also I do feel like this person watches you on social media and just adores everything that you do. I’m not getting creepy energy and this definitely feels reciprocal for both of you. This person wants to give you the world on a silver platter. They also want you to be able to feel safe enough to be vulnerable and they will go at your pace and match you where you are. They feel that you’ve been hurt before and just want to kiss it better. But also they wanna do so many 18+ things with you. Like genuinely they find you to be irresistible, but I feel like they just love everything you do pile 2! Signs: red energy; sexual tension; love; musical theater; red lipstick; opera; singers?; dark rooms; red wine; femme fatale; high heels; soft touches; stolen glances
Pile 3
"ooh i care i care i care" (2 of swords (rx); king of cups (rx); 7 of wands; 8 of wands; ace of swords (rx); Death (rx)) Hi Pile 3! So this one’s a bit of a harder message so please take a moment before you read and check on yourself if you are ready to receive this message. No hard feelings if you can’t! Always put your mental health first. Now I’ll hop into the message at hand. I see for you guys your destiny is to accept the changes in your life. However I see that for most of the changes in your life you have refused to accept them and then blamed the universe for hating you. You actively choose not to change and wonder why there is no growth in your life. I feel like you are tired of how monotonous your life is but you choose to not add any color to it. I can feel your want to go and change things but you are frozen in fear of change for whatever reason. Change overall is a very scary prospect, especially if you are most comfortable in patterns and are very direct in the way that you function. However I feel you guys being frustrated and feeling like everyone else is getting things that you wanted or that they are ahead of you in life, but instead of making an active change in your life you sit and throw yourself a pity party. Then instead of taking the blame and accepting the fact that you aren’t trying to reach your goals you blame the universe, and it’s just a very vicious cycle. I think there’s a small part of you that acknowledges it but not enough to work on the shadow. I think all in all your destiny is to face the change, want the change, and make the change. I feel you want to do all these things, it’s in your soul. Facing a rebirth of the self is always challenging and scary. If you feel like the change will make you lose yourself, maybe that’s exactly what you need? I also want to stress that if you’re not ready for something then it won’t happen, but if the universe decides you are it will be much harder of a rebirth than if you chose it for yourself. I feel that you have lots to think about in terms of how to rebirth yourself. I also feel like you overextend too much for people who don’t care about you in the same way. For this pile I feel like the destined path is to choose to grow out of a place you have been in too long. Such as a friend group, small town, relationship, or family. I believe in you pile 3, change is scary but you have so much time to truly bloom, let yourself have that. Signs: purple; snakes; ribbons; coquette fashion; ocean breeze; violin; pink; smiles; meadows; bunnies; ethereal vibes; angels; church; small town; trailers; dirt roads
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thekingofwinterblog · 6 months
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How to fix Halamshiral as a Zone
Inquisition is a flawed game.
I don't think there's anyone who is going to argue otherwise.
The only question is wheter you place it higher or lower than DA2.
One of the things I think it does better than DA2, is that it managed to give every place a soul, an identity of it's own, and at least a distinct, if not always amazing storyline.
The emerald graves doesnt have a very interesting plot, but it has some spectacular side quests, and atmosphere, inculding a haunted mansion, which might be my favorite possession based quest in all of DA because it shows much better than others just how dangerous untrained mages actually are to those around them.
The storm coast tells a story of what was once an important dwarven port, and shows how it fell and was repurposed over time.
The Hinterlands shows the aftereffects of the templar mage war, as well as solas stupid plan to give cory his orb, and the mage rebellion and an actually decent time travel story.
I could go on, but the point is, I usually have at least aomething nice to say about every single region.
All except one.
Halamshiral.
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Halamshiral was the single worst part of all of Dragon Age Inquisition for me, and every single time I boot up this game, it's always the last thing i do before the temple of sacred ashes, despite how bizarre the game flows as a result.
And the reason is because i hate everything about it.
I hate it's unique attempt at side quests, i hate the characters involved, i hate the Orlesians who inhabit it, and i hate how this section tries to copy what worked so amazingly well with Orzammar and Denerim during the landsmeet section, and fails every single shot it lines up.
The ONLY good thing i have to say about this, is that it's at the very least relatively short.
So here's today's question. How to fix Halamshiral?
Let's begin with the three main players.
Celene, Gasparde, and Briala.
The big problem with every single option, is that they all suck.
Celene and Gasparde are both fucking awful people without any redeeming qualities, they have no charisma, and there is no prospect of the Empire reforming itself under either of them, the way Orzammar would under Bhelen.
Meanwhile, Briala is much, much better, but the problem is that we know exactly what is going to happen here if you support her.
Maybe today elves will have it better, but tomorrow, when Gasparde is gone, or celene turns on elves again as she always does all the progress will be repealed, and reversed, along with a few purged alienages.
Its an old story that's been told before in Dragon age.
In short, there is no reason at all to care about this overall plot. None whatsoever.
There were so many reasons to care about both Orzammar and Denerim in the same situation, and every single character involved had so much more charisma than either of these would be monarchs.
So let's fix that.
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Starting with Celene, take the idea of her wanting to reform the empire, and actually take it to the next level.
Celene is genuine in wanting to reform the empire, and has already taken grand, successful steps to make the entire thing much better for everyone, even elves, giving them and serfs more rights, outlawing the practice of chevaliers having a tradition of killing unarmed city elves to graduate.
But the catch is, while she is genuinely making progress, she is doing so within the confines of the great game.
Celene has nonintention of changing the great game, no plans of wanting to remove this thing that holds Orlais back more than any other, this center stone of their nobility and it's culture.
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Meanwhile, Gasparde is a different kind of reformer, one that takes the ideas he had of him claiming to hate the game, and actually doing something with it.
He is far less progressive, has no love for elves, is far more warlike than Celene ever was... But unlike Celene, his ideas of reform isn't going to act within the grand game.
He's going to break it.
Unlike canon gasparde, this gasparde is hated by every single noble family in the entire empire. His only support, and it's a strong one, is the army. The parts of the army that supports Gasparde, and they are a huge part, are loyal to him personally to the hilt.
And he hates them back. He hates the game, he hates the way it cripples the empire, and he wants to change things. Like Celene he plans to break the serfs free of their chains, for the good of the nation and it's power and economy if not for any progressive reasons.
And he'a going to start with Halamshiral.
For this Gasparde isn't merely positioning men to stage a coup... He's planning to kill EVERY SINGLE NOBLE in Halamshiral. Evety man, every woman, every child there.
He's going to reform this empire by wiping out it's cancerous nobility in one fell swoop, and install himself as supreme dictator to see his reforms through, and wiping out the entire Orlesian nobility that might have opposed him, french revolution style.
And thus the Inquisitor has a dilemma.
Unlike Orzammar, where only one side was a reformer, both of these Orlesians are... But you have to choose one.
Do you choose Celene? The more progressive candidate, who wants a more peaceful Orlais going forward? But who is not willing to get ridd of the grand game to do so, thus making it a permanent risk that all her reforms will be undone...
Or will you support Gasparde, and by doing so be complicit in destroying the entire nobility of Orlais, many of whom are not guilty of the shit that Celene and Gasparde here both hate so much? Gasparde is far less likely to create a peaceful Orlais going forward... But he will have obliterated the Grand Game for good and all, a prize that might be worth this Red Wedding style bloodbath.
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Meanwhile there is Briala, the elven spy who has enough influence to allow, or prevent Gasparde's plans from going through.
Here there should be another moral dilemma, quite different from the base game.
Do you convince her to aid Gasparde, in exchange for the Elves getting a duchy of their own in Halamshiral? Do you then back her up with Inquisition forces and support, forcing Him to publicly announce her as such, and trust his own, twisted version of honor to actually stick to it going forward(Something he ultimately does), or do you throw her to the Wolves the moment things get rough?
Or alternatively, do you convince her to side with Celene, and bury the hatchet? And if so, on what terms? And similarly, if she actually wants to get something out of this, you actually need to back her up... Something you may, or may not choose to do.
And voila, here you have an actual story of intrigue, massive, lasting political changes as a result of the Herald's actions, and morally grey on grey choices.
Everything that Denerim and Orzammar had in spades.
Now moving on from the plot to the actual place.
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Halamshiral has no soul.
It's a french villa on a mountaintop. Whoop de freaking do.
It has no interesting murals, unique art only found there, interesting geography, or anything really to make it stand out.
Compare it to Denerim and Orzammar, and the way they fleshed out the entire city's levels of power and criminal underworlds, and you see the difference.
Denerim is a very realistic, squat, squalid medieval city, with it's buildings built on top of every single bit of available space.
Orzammar is a full on high fantasy dwarf city lit up by a lake of lava.
Halamshiral is a villa presented as a city.
How do you fix that?
There is an artist here on Tumblr who pretty much showcased what Halamshiral could have been, if they had taken the idea of the Dalish(who were the original owners) taking inspiration from native americans(amongst others), and use that to build a truly spectacular city, which has long ago been paved over, but the structure is still there.
Make it a city on the water, like the aztex capital of Tenochtitlan, a marvel of canals and stone.
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Make it this Venezia like city, with canals everywhere you look, and the entire city running on water. A marvel of Dalish city building, where they took something as simple as a couple of islands in a lake, and built the most beautiful city in the world.
And rather than just limit you to the palace, instead let you actually explore this city.
Expand the entire event from one night, to a week.
Let the Herald explore the city, meet the players, interact with the nobles, become friends with a few like you could with Ferelden's bans, which in turn makes the possibility of sacrificing them for the greater good hit so much harder.
Let you choose what fancy stuff to wear to the balls and meetings, rather than have this stupid motto of forcing you to wear one, pre determined outfit like this game had for some reason.
Let you discover the places where what little Elven Architecture and art still remains can be found, and talk with the elves who still live here, the descendants after the first elves the Orlesians enslaved.
Make the plotting of Gasparde and the positioning of troops be gradual, not instantly discovered and twarted.
And at the end, if you choose to back Gasparde, you mirror that scene from Dragon Age 2, where the Templars sail across the bay, and you either step aside and witness the bloodbath you just allowed to happen, or you fight them and be recognized by the nobility(most of which are horrible, horrible people) as a hero who just saved the day.
Have the venatori plot be to kill both Gasparde and Celene, rather than their involvement mostly be about handing the player the the easy knife for the knot of which monarch to pick without having to get your hands dirty.
Also have the entire group be gathered for once. Every inner member of the Inquisition just like at Denerim.
Each of whom have their own thoughts on the events.
Who supports who? What is the right thing to do? What is better for the inquisition? Are you staining your honor beyond repair if you back Gasparde? Does the Inquisitor maybe have a breakdown after witnessing what they just allowed to happen and they walk through the gardens or rooms filled with corpses? Maybe have the scene at the end with the love interest be about a moment of them truly comforting their lover in the aftermath of it all, understanding(or not) that as boss, it's your job to have to make the tough decisions. And now you have to live with them.
Or if you wanna go the other way, this could be one of the breaking points like Origins had. If you support Gasparde, Blackwall choses to tell you to get bent, and that he will die as benefits a knight. Defending the week, and calling you out on how you are just as bad as he ever was, a child killer who's going to run away from responsibility, to pretend you are some better person than what you actually are. You're a murder. Just like he was. You are just as responsible for the blood that's flowing as he was with that carriage back in the day.
It would have been a far more impressive reveal moment for his crimes, that's for sure.
Cole probably would be the one who would be second most upset, but wheter he leaves or ultimately stays should probably be depended on your other choices and your relationship with him prior to this, probably have his personal quest be the determinating factor of what he chooses to do.
And i could go on, but point is, this would be a return to Origins choices actually mattering. There were choices that could make or break a characters bond with you. Shale would not budge regarding Caridin, Leliana and wynne would stand against you if you choose to defile the urn, Sevran would choose to betray you for his old friend if he didn't like you enough, and of course the age old choices at the end of act 3 in da2, where you have to pick between templars and Mages, as well as anders fate, and chances are regardless of what you do, at least 1 person ends up dead.
If anyone reading this has any suggestions for how to further improve this storyline, feel free to share, but regardless, i think we can all agree that this is a vast improvement of what we actually got.
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zapreportsblog · 8 months
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The Secret Revealed
➥ summary: Mash didn’t think anyone would find out his secret, too bad someone did
➥ a/n: someone once asked me to disclose where I’ve gotten all of my art from for my stories, as well as tag the artists. Sadly, all the pictures I use for my stories, or even the gifs I use come from either Google or Pinterest. Also, I just finished watching this anime so hopefully I got something correct . I appreciate the unwavering support you all have shown me so thank you for reading :)
➥ mashle magic and muscles / mash burnedead x reader
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On the outskirts of the majestic city of Evervale, nestled amidst the lush greenery, stood the prestigious Magic Academy, a school renowned for honing the magical abilities of young witches and wizards. Among its students was a young man named Mash Burnedead, who, despite coming from a long line of powerful sorcerers, found himself burdened with a dark secret.
•••
On a bright morning, the school's training grounds were buzzing with students fervently practicing their magical arts. Mash was amidst the crowd, his brow furrowed in concentration as he attempted to conjure a simple levitation spell. But no matter how hard he tried, the faintest glimmer of magic eluded him, leaving him frustrated and disheartened.
As he practiced, a mysterious figure caught his eye. A girl with captivating eyes and a determined expression was making her way toward him. Mash recognized her as (Y/N), a fellow student he had often seen around the campus.
Feeling a knot forming in his stomach, Mash couldn't help but wonder what she wanted. He had always been a reserved and introverted young man, preferring to keep to himself and avoid unnecessary attention. The prospect of being confronted by someone, especially about his secret, sent his heart racing.
Approaching him, (Y/N) stopped a few paces away, her gaze locked onto his eyes, making him feel exposed and vulnerable. He tried to smile, but it came out more like a nervous twitch.
"You," she said, her voice carrying an unusual mix of curiosity and confidence, "I know your secret."
Mash felt the world around him momentarily freeze. His secret was something he had kept hidden from even his closest friends and family. Panic gripped his heart, and his mind raced through possible scenarios.
"W-What secret?" Mash stammered, his voice barely audible.
The girl's lips curved into a knowing smile, adding to Mash's anxiety. "Don't play innocent with me. I know you have no magic," she said, her tone unwavering.
His secret was out. It felt like the ground beneath him had disappeared, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty. How had she found out? Was she going to expose him to the entire school, ridiculing him for his inability to wield magic?
Feeling cornered, Mash tried to think of a way out. "I-I can explain," he stammered, his mind searching for the right words. "It's not what you think. I just... haven't unlocked my powers yet."
(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by his explanation. "Really?" she retorted, her voice laced with skepticism. "You've been at this school for years, and you still haven't unlocked your magic? Come on, it's time to be honest with yourself."
Mash's shoulders slumped, defeated. The weight of his secret was crushing, and he felt a mix of shame and vulnerability. He had always felt like an outcast, trying desperately to fit in with the magical talents that surrounded him.
Before he could muster the courage to ask her what she intended to do with this newfound knowledge, (Y/N) surprised him with her response. "But I won't tell anyone," she said, her expression softening. "Your secret is safe with me."
Her words were like a lifeline, pulling him from the depths of his despair. Mash was taken aback by her unexpected kindness. He had prepared for the worst, but her understanding and assurance gave him a glimmer of hope.
"Why would you keep my secret?" he asked, unable to hide his astonishment.
(Y/N) gave him a small smile, her eyes full of empathy. "Because I believe that people should be defined by their character, not just their magical abilities. I see more in you than the absence of magic. Let's keep this between us, alright?"
Gratitude flooded Mash's heart, and he nodded earnestly. "Thank you," he whispered, overwhelmed by her generosity.
As she turned to leave, (Y/N) looked back at him one last time, her eyes filled with a newfound respect. "You're welcome," she replied. "But remember, secrets have a way of shaping us. It's up to you to embrace who you are, magic or not."
With those parting words, she walked away, leaving Mash to ponder the unexpected encounter. Little did he know that this chance meeting with (Y/N) would change the course of his life forever, leading him on a journey of self-discovery, acceptance, and the realization that true strength came from within, magic or no magic.
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smoreofbabylon · 6 months
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hiiiii for astarion/halsin, “How I wish you could see yourself as I see you.”
It will be different, he supposes, now that they’re in the city. Here, he has options for feeding, options beyond his companions and their enemies, not that he expects they’ll lack for enemies in Baldur’s Gate. He’s never properly hunted here—hunted for himself, that is, looking for sustenance instead of just victims—and the prospect is… considerably more daunting than he would have expected. But he can do it, and he will do it. No more begging for favors.
Except that first night, camping in Rivington, as the evening draws on and he’s considering his options (cart oxen, livery horses, stray dogs, anyone who tries to rob me…) after the others have finished their evening meal, Halsin approaches him. 
“Will you be coming to eat later?” he asks, as if it were a perfectly normal question, one elf to another: are you going to drink my blood this evening, friend?
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Astarion says, running his fingers through his hair. He hasn’t decided what to wear yet; he ought to dress down slightly if he’s going to try for the livestock, but if he dresses up he’s got a better shot at attracting bandits. One sounds terribly smelly, but the other admittedly makes a bigger mess. “Now that we’re not somewhere actively blighted by shadows, I should be able to find my own meals.” 
Halsin’s big brow furrows. “You intend to go hunting?”
“Not like that,” Astarion says, more defensively than he intends. “Wyll would stake me through the heart and Karlach would be disappointed, and I don’t know which would be worse. Although if I were to be set upon by incautious footpads, I think I could hardly be blamed if…” He trails off suggestively, looking at his nails. You see? I can handle myself.
“I know,” Halsin says. “But there is no need, if you do not wish to. I’m still here.” 
Still here. Yes, he is, isn’t he. Halsin first offered Astarion his blood in the Underdark, where he reasoned hunting alone in territory full of bulettes and hook horrors was needlessly risky. Then, in the Shadow-Cursed Land, there’d been nothing wild living. Even as distracted as he’d been, trying to unravel the curse, undo the mistakes of his past and all that, he’d remembered to offer Astarion his blood. He’s gotten very used to the man, big and… natural as he is. But now… 
Now, perhaps he feels at loose ends and just wants to be helpful. Halsin scarcely knows what to do with himself in a city, any more than Astarion knew what to do with himself in a swamp. 
“Thank you, darling, but I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”
“I have never doubted it, Astarion.” Halsin rarely speaks with anything less than absolute conviction, something to do with being so big, all that bass rumbling in his chest. It’s one of his most annoying attributes. And he’s just standing there, looking at Astarion with something far too close to pity for his taste, and the worst part, the gods-awfullest thing, is that something in Astarion doesn’t want him to stop. 
So of course he ruins it. “Then why are you looking at me like that?” 
Halsin looks down and away, then back. “Forgive me. I was only thinking…” 
“What?” 
“How I wish you could see yourself as I see you.” Halsin takes a step towards him, right here, in the middle of camp… where anyone could see them… talking. They’re just talking. Gods, what is wrong with him? “You move with a predator’s grace, and it is beautiful. But you need not be a predator, if you do not wish it.”
“Cazador didn’t give me much choice, I’m afraid.” 
Halsin nods, so gods-damned thoughtful. Finally, he says, “I will be at my tent, if you change your mind. I will be awake for a while yet.” He looks to turn away, then looks back, directly into Astarion’s eyes. “And I would be glad of your company.”
Astarion watches him go, trying to shut away whatever feeling this is, like a live animal escaped into his chest, skittering and nervous. When the druid is gone, he cannot help but glance towards his stupid, useless mirror. Nothing there, as always.
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ROUND 4 MATCH 8
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Zevran propaganda:
“The bisexual elf man”
"what about 'for the chance to be by your side i would storm the dark city itself'?? he can essentially propose!! if you die he canonically never loves again!!"
"literally the sweetest romance ive ever had the chance of doing
everytime i play origins i try to romance someone else but the momebt he starts talking i absolutely melt!!!!!
zevran shouldnt just be boiled down to bisexual elf man
he also is deeply traumatized since he was used for his body since a young child
so the warden and zevrans romance is such a sweet and slow romance ws you slowly help him realize that you dont just see him as his body!!!!
hes the sweetest man on earth and i will die on this hill
i will never love anyone more than this man"
Derek propaganda:
"Impossible to dislike
No, like, literally impossible. OL1 will allow you to be indifferent to it's two other LIs, Cove and Baxter but you actually can't pick that option for Derek. Game decided that You Will Be (at least) Friends With Derek
This boy is so good!!!! He's a sweetheart and has your back in the best way and he's constantly doing his best to make sure the people around him (especially you) are happy
This is also a complex flaw of his because he feels like he needs to be the best that he can be and to be worth something
This both manifests in how he treats others (he's exceedingly well-mannered and does everything for others because he secretly hopes that someday someone will do the same for him) and his career prospects (he takes on excessive practice to get good at football/soccer so that he can potentially get a scholarship and become famous all so he can potenially feel like he's worth something. This is actually a major conflict in his Step 4)
His DLC also has some of the best moments in the game
He also has a family and they're also really good and you get to see a lot of them
His dad is hilarious, his mom is gorgeous and their relationship is very cute
Meanwhile, Derek's brothers are great. I wanna gush about them because I love them but also play Derek's DLC yourself!!! See how good they are for yourself!!!!
I will say that these three have a really good relationship dynamic and the development it takes in the 10 years between when you first meet Jorge and Nico as little kids to Step 4 where they're adults (and a teenager, Nico is 16 in Step 4) is genuinely very well written
If you're into the steamy stuff, Derek also has the best make-out session out of all of the boys
He's also just. Very funny. This boy will invite you to a waterpark and then ask you if its a date so he knows whether or not it's ok to check you out in your swimsuit
Or, if you aren't dating by that point (but you do want to to date him), the narration will note how he's trying so so hard not to check you out, he's just trying so so so hard
Puppy dog face. Look at it. Tell me you can look at that face and not want to smooch him
His confession is also the best, did I mention it's the best? Because it's absolutely the best one in the entire game
He has a whole thing about having to confess to you on a ferris wheel and he's so committed to it that he actually avoided ferris wheels for a long time before this confession because he promised himself he'd do it the next time he went on one
And then he went on one...and he literally doesn't confess when he does it because he lost track of time and he had to get off
so he asks you to go on the ferris wheel with him again so he can actually confess this time
Just. Just vote for him!!!!"
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minicoffee00 · 6 months
Text
Look what you made me do - Eris Vanserra x Reader Part 1
Plot: Eris is your mate, and when you’ve tried your hardest of a long week to see himself and Nesta dancing together, you run away.
Warnings: None
You were one of the rare female night court warriors. You didn’t leave Illyria often, helping Cassian command a female legion or soldiers.
Recently you’d been working hard helping Azriel however, which meant you’d been out around Prythian more and more.
You’d kept tabs on Tamlin, making sure he was rebuilding his court safely, with no other motives, making sure Lucien was happy in his life with Jurian and Vassa, and patrolling the wall.
You’d made fast friends with both Tamlin and Lucien, they both held conversations like no other … and considering where you were from they were surprisingly welcoming.
On these travels you’d gone to the Autumn court hearing of the brethren to the beast they call their high lord, on the hunt for their mates.
You were of course intrigued at the prospect of these men, mindlessly running around the lands looking for one person that they might not even be able to find.
What YOU hadn’t expected was to find out that Eris, the future High Lord was your mate. When you’d sunk onto the palace grounds, to see all the brothers training with one another in the gardens you hadn’t expected the eldest to sniff the air at your arrival.
His eyes found yours in seconds and the afternoon became a game of cat and mouse for the pair of you.
He chased you the whole way round the court. Shouting how you were a nasty, Illyrian Night Court spy.
Eris has the advantage over you, he knew the woods of his court like no other, practically ingrained on the back of his palm. So when you’d taken a wrong turn right into a dip, he managed to get the upper hand and pin you to the ground, leaves crunching on your back into the ground as he did.
The minute your eyes locked the bond snapped into place. His arms lightened up the slightest and he just looked at you, as if he couldn’t quiet believe he was real.
On and off for weeks, he would help you sneak into his room, so you could both see one another, or he would sneak out to take you on moonlit picnics organised by friends he knew wouldn’t tattle to his father on him.
Eventually you had to go home to the Night Court, a ball was occurring in the Hwen City and Feyre and Cassian has coaxed Nesta out of her shell a little meaning she was allowed a visit to the city.
You’d spent hours at the house of wind, your home, fussing about what dress to wear while Azriel sat in your room sharpening a blade.
“Why are you so worried about tonight” he asks a slight curious tone to his voice.
“I’m not worried, what makes you say that?” You ask, looking over to him, holding up the last two dresses you’d deducted. One was a devastating Night Court black, with a slit down the thigh and barely any material pulling over your chest. The other, was a burnt orange silk dress that clung to all of your curves in the best way.
Azriel points to the orange satin one, knowing that you looked absolutely gorgeous in it.
“You are. Your different since you came back” he frowns. You were his longest friend, even before Rhys and Cassian, and the platonic bond the two of you shared was something that was heard about at every court in Prythian.
“Okay fine but you cannot tell anyone” you giggled, you quickly tan into the bathroom pulling the dress on and then coming out closing the door softly behind you.
“We’ll, I’m waiting?!”
“I met my mate” you explained a happy smile across your face just thinking of the beautiful ginger male of Autumn.
“Who?” Azriel asks his head snapping up, not having expected the conversation to turn that way.
“Eris Vanserra, he was so sweet to me, Azriel. I’ll be seeing him tonight at the ball in Hwen City! That is where I want to tell everyone” you beamed, a glow around you and your wings that Azriel rarely saw since the last two wars and how they’d impacted you.
“That’s why your all extra dressy for tonight” he smirks. He hasn’t made any effort, staying in his Illyrian leathers blades still attached.
“Come. I’ll winnow us in” You smiled, grabbing his hand and winnowing them to the palace.
You entered into the palace, there was a weird feeling in the air tonight an overbearing sense of jealousy from many different parties. The large double doors opened to the main room and yourself and Azriel walked out into the balcony overseeing the room that everyone was currently in.
Rhys and Feyre your High Lord and High Lady were both sat in their thrones watching the night dance away, Keir close by, also watching his Darklings mingle with some of the women who had joined from Valeris.
You stayed alert, just because you were here for your own selfish desires didn’t mean you wouldn’t be there to serve your court, your high lady, your high lord in a matter of seconds.
“Oh” Az mutters quietly. His shadows wouldn’t shut up about Cassian’s deathly gaze on the crowd and how he felt like ice. He followed his brothers train of state to see his mate dancing around with Eris, close to her chest.
“What” you say looking around to catch where he was also looking Azriel tries to stop you, not wanting you hurt on what was probably your first night of fun and relaxation since the war, he of course didn’t know of your time with Eris when you were spying.
You watched as your mate twisted the Archeron sister in and your of his arms, pulling her closer with teasing glances that had both you and Cassian inching forward, trying to see more.
“Eris” you’d said his name so softly but it traveled through the room somehow among the loud crowd finding his ears.
As he and Nesta looked up at you, he had her pulled in close to him, in a rather intimate position that had tears brimming your eyes.
You had truly though that Eris and you had something special but he was just one of those bad males that you had unfortunately fallen for.
He was a bad male that was currently tugging on your heart strings as he looked up at you with those wide guilty eyes.
But he also made no quick move to pull himself away from Nesta which had you running, running right out of the Hwen City and winnowing to the only place in your memory bank.
It took a few attempts to get there but eventually you made it to the one good male apart from Azriel that you knew you could reply on.
“Y/N” the gruff voice asks.
“Lucien?” You cry
Taglist:
@cat-or-kitten
@sstrohma
@horneybeach1
@its-sam-allgood
@starryhiraeth
@xcastawayherosx
@glitterypirateduck
@azriels-mate123
@mavropouloupanagiota
A/N: i will be continuing with my Azriel series just getting into the swing of things with being at uni and have a part time job! I’ll be more consistent soon
Love love laugh Lucien I say :) have a great day Coffee Beans!
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farfromstrange · 5 days
Text
Do No Harm
CHAPTER ELEVEN: He's Not The Sun
Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Summary: Claire puts one and two together, and she confronts Matt when he climbs through her window that night.
Warnings for this chapter: Angst, Claire is a bit "mean" in this one, self-hatred, brief description of injury
Word Count: 3.2k
A/n: At first, I thought about writing Claire's POV, but I didn't like it, so I circled back to Matt. Be patient though, things are purposefully moving very slowly. We all love Matt, but Claire cares for Reader, so she is being overprotective (which we can't blame her for!). Just don't hate me for this, 'kay? (Also, I hope at least some of you get the references I put in this one).
Read Chapter 11: He's Not The Sun here on AO3
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The wooden frame of the window creaks as he slides through the opening. 
Matt has been all over the city tonight. He tried to channel his anger and frustration into his fists and out into the world; he tried to make sense of the chaos that surrounds him everywhere he goes, but he didn’t get very far tonight. 
Bloody and bruised, he crawls home to the one person he knows won’t turn him down.
Something feels off tonight though. It isn’t the lack of hopelessness he has been experiencing ever since he heard your voice for the second time that day. That, as unusual as it is for him, doesn’t feel all that odd. He has embraced it. He likes it. Something else is in the air, and a looming sense of doom threatens to constrict his airway.
You’re a bad idea, a lapse in judgment, but no one consumes him more. When everything burns too brightly for him to breathe, you supply him with fresh oxygen. When he’s spiraling, your voice brings him back from the cliff's edge.
Matt is irrevocably obsessed with you. After that phone call—after you dared to ask him out again—he felt his chest fill with a new sense of hope. You gave him something to look forward to. Something good. Something pure.
The prospect of getting to know someone who seems to be a very guarded person is the most valuable. It means that you consider there to be a certain level of trust between the two of you. It may be dangerous, and acting on the feelings he keeps having may be the worst idea he has ever had, but Matt couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. 
Hell’s Kitchen has seemed a little less like a dead end tonight. His fists are bloody now, his ribs are bruised, and the old stitches on his chest have torn the first hour in, but the world isn’t ending. Usually it does whenever he fails. Not tonight though. He thinks of you tonight, and his chest gets a little lighter with each breath of fresh air he takes to calm himself.
He’s in good spirits when he climbs through Claire’s window, but that is where it ends.
Matt enters, and he instantly can no longer shake the feeling that something is, indeed, very wrong. 
Claire has been pacing. The echo of missed calls and text messages hangs in the air. And when he takes a deep breath in, the lingering scent hits him like a truck.
Sliding the mask off his face, he tilts his head.
“How bad is it?” Claire asks from the doorway to the kitchen. 
The guilt drips from her tongue, but it has nothing to do with him. Anger and worry spike her blood pressure; she can’t fool him, no matter how hard she tries. 
“Someone was here,” he deflects. 
“Can’t be that bad if your voodoo senses still work.”
“Just a bruised rib. I, uh, popped my stitches.” Matt takes a step forward, hissing. “I told you not to tell anyone where you are.”
On any other day, in any other case, he would have lectured her, but his voice lacks power this time.  
Matt wants to protect his identity—needs to—but he can’t even keep Claire safe. She didn’t have to pull him out of that dumpster, but he was the one who told her he would be coming back. He’s burning everything and everyone around him to the ground like an old church at first contact with a tipped-over candle. 
He’s unable to stop. He wants to be a savior; protecting the city, protecting his family, and protecting everyone else. Matt wants to be a hero, as much as he claims otherwise. To him, that is the purpose God gave him. 
He grew up believing he was nothing but a soldier. Stick taught him that. Then, he left, and Matt eventually gave up hope. He was just a child then. A little boy, lost and alone. The mindset Stick forced onto him stayed, and it is a resilient bastard. It’s like a parasite that feeds off of him and refuses to leave. 
He has no idea what to believe in anymore. The one person willing to take him under his wing walked out on him years ago, and he has accepted that it’s all he will ever be good for.
Experiencing all the injustice in the world in every sense but his eyes have given him no other choice but to leave the path of lawfulness and take a different turn—a turn he is now facing the repercussions for at a very dead end. 
You’re getting close to him, and that means you’re inevitably in the line of fire too, just like everyone else Matt holds dear—but he never holds them close enough to allow himself to get hurt. The thought of you getting hurt remains to kill him like a dangerous toxin in his bloodstream. 
Your scent is glued to the walls of the apartment, and Matt is roughly brought back to reality. The love-sick haze he had been in all night dissipates.
Catching himself on the back of the chair she keeps next to the couch, he groans. His side screams in protest. He’s bleeding; he can smell the copper in the air, mixing with Claire’s sweat and her previously shed tears that are still thick in the atmosphere. And perhaps it is your tears, too. 
You.
Olivia Clarke. He truly does believe there is more to it, and that something else is going on, but too many thoughts crowd his mind at once, and he can only think about one. 
He imagines her standing with crossed arms in front of him, her stance wide and her eyes empty, wiped clean by the storm of her emotions. The fire begins to burn a little brighter, swallowing her whole. All he can think about is the fact that you have been here. Neither Matt nor Claire can deny that. 
“Who did you meet?” he asks, his voice low and rough as he takes another unsteady step forward.
“You tell me, Mike,” she counters. “Or should I call you Matt?”
The blood freezes in his veins. “How did you—”
But Claire cuts him off. “I was hoping to be wrong.” She shakes her head, and under her breath, she whispers to herself, “She was so happy. God, why does this always happen?”
The alarms are blaring at full volume in his head. Matt bares his teeth. “Who are you talking about, Claire? Who told you–” he grunts.
She knows. 
“Who told you my name?” he asks. 
“I hate being right sometimes. You wanna know who was here?” Claire pauses. “I have a friend who I happen to work with. You may know her,” she says. “Olivia Clarke? Yeah. She’s the one you’ve been lying to about who you are behind all of—” she points him up and down, “This. A blind, masked vigilante who likes to get himself on Russian ganbangers’ bad side.”
His face falls. Hearing it out loud puts things into perspective. Hearing it out loud makes it real. 
Your scent fills his nose again. Your heartbeat pounds in his ear, a very vivid memory of this afternoon, and your voice echoes.
“Fuck!” he curses. “It’s not—” he was going to say that it isn’t what it looks or sounds like, but that would be the most unbelievable lie. “It’s not like that,” he says. 
“Then what is it like? Tell me, Matt—if that’s even your real name.”
“I… okay, listen. We bumped into each other at the hospital the other night and hit it off. I didn’t know—” His face contorts.
“Didn’t know she had feelings?”
Claire breeches the distance between them. She glides her fingers along his clothed torso, lifting his shirt to see the damage for herself. The skin is slick with his blood, the stitches long gone. 
Her usually so calculated movements are a lot more disoriented tonight. She’s tense, shaking. 
Matt sucks in a sharp breath when she starts working on cleaning the wound with a cotton swab from her first-aid kit. “No,” he shakes his head. “I didn’t know you two knew each other. Let alone that you were friends. If I had, I wouldn’t have…” he trails off. No matter what he says, it will only prove her right that he is, in fact, an asshole. 
“What did you think?” Claire sneers. “You tell me to turn my whole life around while you act like nothing’s wrong during the day, flirting your way through Hell’s Kitchen and landing on someone who works at the same hospital as me? She’s my best friend!”
“We had coffee. That’s all.”
“Don’t lie to me. You gave her your number twice, and you asked her out. She came to me, panicking because you were her first date in years, and I gave her advice like the idiot I am.” She scoffs. “Don’t act like it was just coffee because if it had been, you wouldn’t have said yes to dinner when she asked you.”
Claire pours the disinfectant directly onto the cut, and he howls in the back of his throat. “Sorry,” she says, but it lacks sincerity. “I couldn’t even answer her texts because I feel like I’m complicit in lying, even though I never signed up for this.”
Matt adjusts in his seat. The medicinal alcohol burns through his bloodstream. 
She sticks three butterfly bandages over the cut, one after the other. “To think I told her you were a good guy because I was hoping someone had finally come around for her who wouldn’t hurt her.”
“I would never hurt her,” he answers without missing a beat.
“Then why did she tell me about how she met this handsome lawyer, but not that he runs around in spandex at night, throwing fists at bad guys?”
“Because…I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t.” Taking a deep breath, his eyes stop darting around. He wraps his hand around her wrist, stopping her desperate attempt to patch him up. 
Right now, Claire hates him. She’s furious with him and worried about you, and she doesn’t quite know where to with herself, but she also can’t let it be. Matt’s hurt; after saving his life, she feels responsible for making sure he’s okay. Her movements are muscle memory, but he can’t focus, not like this. 
“You see the situation you’re in, Claire.” Her pulse quickens at the mention of her name. “If I tell her,” he explains, “she’ll be in danger, and I can’t… She’s too good for that. And so are you, but you chose to pull me out of that dumpster.”
“Don’t act like it’s my fault for not wanting to let you bleed out,” she claps back. 
He tightens his grip, urging her not to slip away. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh, I know what you meant. And I agree, Liv’s too good for you.”
The second she has finished bandaging his wound, she breaks free from his grasp and steps away. Being close to him seems to hurt her. He can hear it in the way she breathes, brushing her hair away from her sweaty forehead. Her temples must be pounding. 
Matt lowers his shirt again, sighing. “She has something about her. The way she talks, the way she carries herself, I just… she draws me in. And she’s good to me.”
A million reasons why he can’t stay away from you, but he can’t voice any of them in the way he wants to. The words just won’t come.
Claire wipes her hands on a towel nearby. “She doesn’t exist to make you feel better,” she says. “She doesn’t exist to make anyone feel better. She thinks she does, but she isn’t. I thought you, out of all people, would understand that.”
No one exists for the sake of another person.
“I know she’s had a bad childhood,” he says.
“It’s not just about her bad childhood. It’s everything. She deserves better.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I’m aware that I’m bad for her? That everything I do has a tendency to backfire on the people I care about?”
She avoids looking at his face entirely. “I want to believe you, but I can’t,” she says.
“Claire—”
She shakes her head. “You need to cancel that dinner.”
The words take a very long moment to register. “You want me to break her heart?” he asks.
Matt imagines that—hurting you, breaking your heart, and never seeing you again—and it crushes him. Over his dead body, that is what he thought when you answered the phone earlier that evening. Now, Claire is begging him to kill himself so that you can be free of him. She finally sees him through the same mirror he views himself through, and it is terrifyingly isolating.
The floorboards creak under the weight of her steps as she begins to pace. “I don’t know,” she admits. “Maybe? Yes? All I know is that you can’t see her again.”
The wave that comes at him threatens to pull him under. She met the Devil first, but he was so broken then that a glimpse of Matt was already peeking through. He wants to disappear.
Claire’s view of the world has always been sober, but now that he is in the spotlight of it all, he wishes he would have never come to her again. He was alone, and she was there, but it should not have happened.
Subconsciously, he matches her labored breathing. “I get you, Mi—Matt,” she murmurs. “I do. And I keep telling myself it’s twisted, but I can’t help it. You’re hurt, and I know how to take care of that. God knows I shouldn’t have got involved with you. I don’t regret it. I’m not trying to make you feel worse than you already do, but Liv’s safety is something I can’t risk. I won’t. Endless devotion is the only way she knows how to love. And if you go out with her—if you make her fall for you—she will get herself killed.”
You. Dead. The combination tastes sour. No amount of bleach could remove the blurry imagination of you, dying because of him. His chest tingles, a thousand lightning bolts at once. If he goes along with it, he fears her words might become real. But who’s to say they won’t either way? The fear settles into his bones like a chronic ache.
Matt gets up. His knees buckle, but he tries to stand strong. The question is, who is he trying to fool? Claire knows better, and he can’t even believe himself anymore. It’s pointless. 
“I know you care about her, but after the Russians are taken care of—” he begins.
Claire raises her hand. The wind brushes across his cheek, stopping him in his tracks. “Doesn’t matter,” she says. “You won’t stop.”
“I…” he sighs. “You know I can’t. Not when I have to listen to the law fail every damn night. This city needs me in that mask.”
“I’m not telling you to stop. I know you’ve made up your mind, and that’s your choice, but Liv can’t be dragged into this. If it’s not the Russians, it will be something or someone else trying to get a piece of you, and they will drag those close to you down with you.” Claire crosses her arms again. “We both know I’m right,” she says. 
“You’re asking me to break her heart. That’s not fair,” the sentence hangs in the air, a helpless breath on his lips as he tries to reach for a way out of this hell. 
Her fingers dig into her biceps. “Can you promise that she won’t get hurt?”
He opens his mouth. Not a single sound escapes him. And Matt realizes that if he wants to answer that question, he has to lie. The truth will prove her right. It proves him right.  
She nods. His hesitation speaks volumes. “If you let her down easy now, you won’t do any irreparable damage. You both can move on.”
But he doesn’t want to move on. Again, nothing but a strangled grunt in the back of his throat slips past his lips. Matt loathes himself more than anything. Death seems kinder than whatever this is supposed to be.
If he had chosen to go home and stitch himself up tonight, maybe he could have still been pretending by now, and he wouldn’t be on the verge of losing you.
She sniffs. She isn’t crying, but her nose is still running from the presence of the very persistent cat, who has been watching them ever since Matt climbed into the window. 
“She’s like family to me,” Claire tells him as calmly as she possibly can. “I can’t let you do this to her, not after I’ve got a taste of what it’s like.”
If you were there with them, you would tell her to mind her own business. Knowing you, you wouldn’t allow her or anyone to control you. You are in charge of your own destiny, but as she said, you would go into it blindly and sacrifice yourself if he truly means that much to you, and if that were to ever happen, he might lose you. Claire might lose you. You might die, and that is a thought that Matt can’t even stand to form, but he has no choice as the voices come crashing back in. 
rough his shirt to touch his wound. It’s not a gentle caress, not at all.
“Promise me she’ll be okay?” he asks. 
Claire nods. “Of course, she will. You’re not the center of her universe,” and although she probably meant it to sound snarky, a certain softness follows through the sound of her voice.
Maybe in another life, he could be. In another life—another universe—he could be your sun, or perhaps the moon that shines at midnight as rain falls. Just not in this one.
He slips through the window back into a reality that is much different from whatever fantasy he could possibly conjure up to soothe the hot ache that spreads through his heart, and when his feet hit the wet ground, he knows he has a decision to make. 
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Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41 @kiwwia-wiwwia @writtenbyred @echo-ethe @kezibear @peterbarnes
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syllvane · 11 months
Text
beautiful as the view from a sinking ship- jesper fahey x reader
a/n: people will watch la la land (2016) instead of go to therapy. it’s me i’m people. angst
“I’m surprised you’re here.” Inej said, appearing out of thin air.
You scoffed slightly, grabbing your drink before turning to look at Inej.
“I’m still a Crow, am I not? Just because me and Jes broke up, doesn’t mean I forfeit my place here.”
The nickname sat in the silence between the two of you and you looked away from her.
Inej didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, watching you down the shot of hard liquor.
“I know, I just… you’ve been keeping odd hours. You’ve stopped coming around the Slat.”
You signaled the bartender for another round.
You looked at her and, despite the copious amount of alcohol you had consumed, your eyes were clear and bright.
“I’ve been trying to avoid him, if that wasn’t obvious.”
“I know. But by avoiding him, you’ve been avoiding everyone else.”
“Then tell him he needs to take a shift or two of the odd hours so that I can come around.” You snapped, though any anger faded from your voice immediately. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”
“What happened between the two of you?”
You sighed.
“It’s not worth talking about.”
“But it was worth breaking up over?”
You looked at her again. This time she could see it more clearly, how tired you were.
Inej took a seat next to you, taking the glass of alcohol that was on the counter in front of you.
“This city will kill anyone who stays here long enough. Every day is another fight, and I just want to rest.” You said softly. “Jesper will stay here until Kaz tells him otherwise.”
“Why haven’t you left then?” She asked, the answer written all over your face.
You looked at the alcohol before looking back at her and shaking your head.
“I don’t know. It’s be easier if I could.”
You left some kruge on the bar top before standing up, stumbling slightly before catching yourself and walking home.
Inej followed you in the shadows, making sure that you got home safely before heading back to the Slat, your words ringing in her ears.
“We need your help.” 
Bitterness rose up out of nowhere at the sound of Kaz’s voice- it hadn’t always been this way. You once cared about him almost as much as Jesper and Inej.
“There are other Inferni in this city, you know.”
“Yes. Probably ones who don’t smell like alcohol as well, but none that I trust as much as you.”
“Ha.” You deadpanned, turning around to face him.
He took one quick glance at you before looking around the warehouse you had been squatting in.
“This is the last thing I’ll ever ask of you, since you no longer seem interested in being a Crow.”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.” He shot back quickly, tapping his cane absentmindedly. “We’re meeting tonight. You know where to find us.”
“I’ll come with you. Just give me a couple minutes to get ready.”
“Fine.” He said, turning away and looking towards the entrance that he had came through. “You broke his heart, you know. Breaking up with him.”
You gathered your gun and your knives, his words cutting into your skin.
“It broke my heart as well, if that makes you feel any better.”
“It doesn’t, believe it or not.” He said, getting awfully close to expressing a human emotion. “Remind me to never fall in love with anyone.”
You scoffed, involuntarily thinking of Inej.
“What?” He asked and even without looking at him, you could tell that his eyes had narrowed.
You shook your head.
“Nothing. From my experience, you didn’t get to choose that kind of thing.”
The rest of the way, the two of you walked in silence. 
Your heart thumped in your chest as you stood in front of the Slat, dreading the prospect of seeing Jesper again.
He did his best not to look at you as you walked into the Slat, the other Crows giving you a warm, if not slightly awkward, welcome.
It’s a straightforward enough plan- infiltrate the party to gain access to the safe, use your powers to get into the safe, leave with the documents.
It’s simple enough, except it all goes to shit, because of course it does.
The actual safe-breaking is the easiest part of the gig- you’re all outside when the guards show up and start shooting without asking questions, leading to a gunfight, with pairs of Crows isolated from another.
It all feels like it happens in slow motion: someone fires a gun, Jesper is facing the other way, oblivious that a bullet is about to find purchase in his chest.
Your feet move faster than your mind does and you bodied him, the two of you falling onto the ground.
You looked at him.
His eyes, his beautiful eyes were wide with surprise and confusion, his eyebrows scrunched together, bracing the impact of the tackle.
“What do you think you’re-” He started, his tone indignant before his eyes were drawn to the red stain blossoming on your chest. “What did… what did you do? Nina!”
His voice came out as more of a scream and he maneuvered you gently so that you were laying on the cobblestone ground.
Your training in the Second Army, a distant memory from your childhood, might have prepared you for what getting shot feels like if you had stayed longer.
Or maybe not- maybe it would have always hurt this much.
Jesper put his hand on your cheek, forcing you to look at him, his skin cool against yours.
“Hey, hey. Look at me. Don’t close your eyes. Just keep looking at me.”
He’s pretty when he’s fawning over you and you listen to him, look at him, your eyes locking on his.
In his eyes, you see a future.
You see yourself recovering from this, the two of you getting back together, any distance that was in between the two of you made small in the shadow of death.
You see the two of you taking trips out to the countryside, the two of you holding hands, every second the two of you spend together a promise.
It’s all so distant now, tomorrow creeping farther and farther away from your grasp
You lifted your arm, your strength fading from you fast. Your hand settled on his face, cupping his cheek and wiping away a tear that had formed.
You have so much to say still- so many apologies and I love you’s and conversations- you don’t have enough time.
“I’d do it again.” You settle for, trying to assuage the notions of guilt already forming in his head. 
His face crumples and Nina rushes over, finally, but there is nothing to be done. 
She is not a healer and you are dying.
“Nina, you have to do something. Nina, you have to fix it, please.”
Your hand falls from his face and he grabs it, holding it tightly. 
Your hands are cold.
“I love you, Jes.” You say, his name an exhalation of air.
“I love you too. Don’t go.” He begs.
Only Nina hears.
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matchibee · 10 months
Text
A Web of Their Own Design (pt. 4)
i pinky promise this is meant to thicken the plot just trust me besties, trust me.
tw: talk of death, grieving
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The wristband itched as it kept you together, hardly fashionable, deadly uncomfortable. It would act as your escape to different dimensions, a guide, the multiverse entirely at your disposal -- within the parameters discussed by Jess and Miguel, but yours to conquer nonetheless.
Following the conclusion of your visit they'd sent you back to your world, instructing you to report upon prospective anomalies. The detector embedded within your watch would alert you, displaying everything you needed to know —inter-dimensional travel, communication, information — the multiverse was at your fingertips, bound to your wrist.
The multicolored watch wasn’t the only thing bound to the multiverse. Your friendship alongside Aubrey and Alador bound to ruin, oblivion. You hadn't realized how much time had spanned in the moments between Doc Ock's attack and Miguel's recruitment, but as you zipped through the portal only to find the sun steadily setting, you knew you'd fucked up.
There was no coming back from this, was there?
Perhaps if you’d refused, denied Miguel and his accomplices of your services, you’d have kept your promise.
Your universe — no — the multiverse, had a funny habit of stretching you thin.
"Where have you been?" Aubrey was at the door to your trio’s shared apartment, arms crossed over her chest. She looked entirely exhausted, under eyes sagged and makeup smudged in various parts of her face. But her deflation didn’t stem from the day's events.
Aubrey was exhausted with you.
"I..." You couldn't come up with an excuse quick enough, refusing to look into her eyes, fishing for the keys to your apartment and unlocking the door — why hadn't she unlocked the door?
"I'm leaving my key here," She was indignant in her speaking, a hint of hesitance but she masked it well, "I can't do this anyone."
You swallowed the lump in your throat, dropping your bag at the apartment’s entrance, frozen in place. "…Will Al be leaving, too?"
"That's your question?" Aubrey scoffed in disbelief, raking her hands down her face, and it was only then you noticed the mascara that lined her cheeks. "I tell you I'm moving out, abandoning our friendship, and all you want to know is if Alador is doing the same?"
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, "What else do you want me to do? I can't stop you from making your decision, it isn't my place."
"Isn't your... How is this not your place?" Is it so much to ask of you to fight for once." Her hair forfeited its typically smoothed appearance, frizzed under her unrelenting grasp, "For once in your life can't you fight for what you believe in? Fight for the people you love instead of abandoning them on a whim — at the drop of a hat!"
"I fight everyday!" You slammed the apartment door shut, realizing now you'd been standing in the doorway, Aubrey well inside, neighbors likely terrified by the disruption. "Everyday I fight for you, Alador, my family — the people of this city and the people of this universe." You kick your bag clear from your path, uncaring of its contents, though it was something you'd come to regret further down the line. "I don't mean to..." You held your hand to your chest, "I don't mean to slam things and raise my voice but... You have no idea what I do when I'm not with you, not here."
"Then tell me."
"Aubrey."
"Tell me what's so important you can't be around us!" She threw up her hands in surrender, confining herself to the loveseat situated in the sitting area. "Tell me what's so important you couldn't be there for Alador! Tell me what's so important you couldn't be there when he died!"
Tension was thick in the air, Aubrey sobbing into her knees, her tears the only sound that could be heard for miles, enhanced senses be damned. Slowly, mindlessly, you dropped to your knees. "He didn't... He couldn't have..."
"Internal bleeding," Aubrey said through sobs, "He had internal bleeding that went unchecked because the help you supposedly called for never arrived." She was less screaming and more reminiscing, remembering, suffering through the pain as though trapped in a perpetual loop. You could see it in her eyes, see it in the way she carried herself, the way she held herself tightly as though embracing him for a final time. "By the time we got him to the hospital he was too weak for any treatment, lost far too much blood for even the most invasive transfusions to remedy."
Your friend had bled out while you made new experiences, met people from across the multiverse. In your exploration of the vast he explored the infinite, confined to the universe through death. Linked to you, to the multiverse, the spiderverse.
Alador would always be a part of you, in life and death, forever entrapped within your web of lies.
"Do you want to know what the last thing he said was?"
No, you didn't. you couldn't.
You weren't ready, you weren't sure you would ever be ready to know what he had to say as he took his final breath, spoke his final piece. "I can't... I'm not ready."
Aubrey scoffed, "And you think I was ready for him to die?"
You couldn't help it if she had a point, no matter how deeply it hurt you, rooted itself into your subconscious. "The last thing... He told me to tell you he loved you. With all his heart he loved you and he knows that whatever you go on to do, you'll do great — you always do the right thing."
You felt overwhelming shame, unable to respond through your tears, through the hiccups that burned your throat with their violence.
"He also told me you get his PC, just like he promised… Since he doesn't trust I'd take care of it."
You laughed then, despite how difficultly you'd fought with your body, you allowed yourself to erupt into a fit of laughter. Aubrey joined you, though the noises were laced with tears shed through loss. "Only he would think of his PC in his final moments..." You smiled, his face vivid in your mind, at least thankful you could remember him in good health.
Aubrey couldn't say the same. "Only Alador would think of someone who abandoned him in his final moments."
Ouch. That one stung. Perhaps you were deserving of it, perhaps it were true, but that hadn't meant she had to bring it to the front of your mind, remind you of mistakes made in your most vulnerable moments. It was difficult to think of everyone simultaneously — family, friends, strangers and even yourself, though that member always seemed placed on the back burner. Decisions had to be made, lines drawn, no matter how badly you yearned for it not to be true.
How you yearned for Miguel to be incorrect in his disciplines.
If you'd stayed, you ran the risk of an anomaly appearing, one that proved too much for you. What if the other spiders hadn't shown up like they had this time? What damages would the city have taken, who else would you have lost besides Alador?
At least this way you knew everyone would be safe from this point forward, safer than they could've been prior.
All it took was a sacrifice.
All it took was a canon event.
It hadn't seemed like it at the time, hadn't seemed like something capable of occurring. Every Spider went through this, every Spider knew what it meant to lose something close to them.
You saw it in Miguel's universe, heard it fall from his lips.
Yet, somewhere down the line, you'd hoped you were exempt.
Suppose the Multiverse wasn't that merciful.
"I don't want to leave," Aubrey finally spoke up, finally transparent in her thought process, "I don't want to leave but I don't... I can't bring myself to look at you without seething — I see red, I'm blinded with rage."
You nodded in understanding, hearing her out, confined to nothing more.
"And yet... I can't bring myself to throw away our friendship, not like that." Aubrey rose to her feet, looking down at you wordlessly, pondering what she had to say before she said it, always the analytic. "I just need to know why you left, why you weren't there."
Would you be capable of telling her? Would you be capable of revealing yourself to Aubrey? Endangering her, your family, your identity.
"Aubrey..."
"Don't."
"You know I can't."
"Then I can't be friends with you... Not now."
"I understand."
You had to watch her leave, confining yourself to your sitting room, incapable of anything else. Wishing to never be capable of anything else.
In less than a twenty-four hour period you’d learned so much, lost even more. A trade-off, information for inclination. How cruel, unfair. How badly you wanted to scream, hide away without ever returning to the light.
You convinced yourself you could, knees to your chest as you stared blankly to the closed door, the door Aubrey had accidentally slammed in an effort to get away from you — far, far away. She voiced an apology, the gesture nearly entirely muffled by the paint-chipped wooden door.
Would you ever see her again?
You looked to the keys plopped neatly on the kitchen’s island, pink paint chipping away as though she’d attempted to erase herself from the metal’s memory.
Even if it forgot, even if everyone in this city lost their memory, you would never.
The sounds of the city had never proved so burdensome. Screams, sirens, the screech of tires. Every little instance had you hopping to your feet, begging the latest call.
Now they were nothing more than background noise to your sobbing.
You’d even gone so far as removing the watch from your wrist, weight unbearable, uncaring of the beeps and vibrations that called out to you in the darkness.
How long had you been there confined to your thoughts, tears running dry and eyes puffed as though a pastry.
A portal reveled itself, falling open at your front door, Hobie walking through where Aubrey had walked out with a look of determination on his face. "Bossman detected some anomaly in your Uni, figured you were having a nap and sent me to... Hey, you alright, mate? What's happened? You look bloody wrecked."
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phantomposting · 1 year
Text
Another half asleep twins au rant/prompt! Please excuse any spelling or grammar errors I have not slept in a hot minute.
Trigger Warning ⚠️: Ghost Hunger, Dissection/vivisection, starvation
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So this is a Ghost Hunger Damian and Danny are twins au. I was reminded about ghost hunger the other day and boy did it give me the spark of creativity I needed to create yet another au/fic idea to hyperfixate on.
So in this au Damian and Danny were very close as siblings but Danny ended up dying throwing himself in harms way to protect Damian on a mission for the league. Damian blames himself for not having better reflexes/not paying enough attention and could never convince his grandfather to allow Danyal to be resurrected via the pit.
Talia saw how desperate her son was for the other to live though and also cared for Danyal so she risked it all to revive him secretly and hide him amongst the civilians in America. Damian sadly never got to learn about that fact tho and lived years with the guilt he felt which left him determined to never let that happen again. Which meant he could never let anyone get close enough to want to do such a thing for him and he needed to hone his skills.
Danny on the other hand has hazy memories of his brother while with the Fentons and goes through the same timeline of becoming Phantom and protecting Amity Park. Eventually tho his parents find out and that gets him strapped to a table in the basement begging for his half life/getting vivisected.
So Danny flees going on the run and ends up on the streets of Gotham. The spirit of Gotham is so excited and welcoming to her newest child. He is a protector and her king after all. It fills her with pride that she would get to care for such an important person. She does all she can to make sure the king stays safe. Little things to keep him hidden and protected.
Danny however has unintentionally been keeping a pretty big secret from the ghosts of the realm. He doesn't really know this though and thinks its just a ghost thing. Basically his core is slightly corrupted due to the years he spent around the Lazarus pits aswell as the revival vial the dip in it's corrupt ectoplasm. As a result he experiences ghost hunger which was pretty easy to manage when he lived with the Fenton's. He would normally satiate his hunger via eating pure ectoplasm from the lab but now he has no access to that which leads him to starving himself.
This starvation mixed with his human side starving aswell is very very hard on his body as a result he begins to black out sometimes when he wakes up he usually tastes ectoplasm but just assumes its his own due to his injuries from his parents. These injuries are weirdly taking way longer to heal which is due to ghosts being very mental/emotional state based.
Gotham soon realizes she has a big problem on her hands. It turns out the king's core is corrupted and as a result many of her ghostly children are going missing. She is deeply upset and calls out for help to assist the king with his corruption or stop him from killing more of her children. She hopes the king gets help rather than getting taken down however. She knows it's not his fault. She knows how protective of her city and her people he is and how kind he can be to them and hopes issues get solved so he may become a protector of her people.
This call for help brings Constantine to Gotham. He doesn't get a whole lot of info from Gotham at first but he knows whatever is going on can be dangerous and is important. He knows that some of the bats are in danger too and gives them a warning that something in Gotham seems to be hunting ghostly beings and those whom have died before are at risk especially Red Hood.
The Bat's don't take too kindly to the supernatural threat and kinda force their way into assisting Constantine whom is already annoyed with the prospect of having to deal with the bats.
So time passes and the bats gets a few encounters of feeling as if they're being hunted. Jason is also the first to discover the new homeless kid in Gotham who looks almost exactly like Damian. It's hard to really see too many similarities at the time tho he's so thin it's deeply worrying and his icy blue eyes greatly contrast Damian's emerald green, but some similarities are far too obvious to miss. Oh great more black hair blue eyed adoption bait. Better keep him far away from Bruce.
The few run ins some of the bat kids have with Danny make them worried about the homeless kid. Dick, Tim, Duke and Jason all get run ins with the kid and tho they want to try and help the kid he always seems to vanish without a trace. It's kinda creepy but they all can recognize just how scared this kid is.
Eventually Bruce and Damian get their run in with the kid. The GiW have finally tracked Danny down and due to the stupid vivisection wounds not healing and the starvation of both forms he can't get the strength he needs to defend himself or make an easy escape. He ends up cornered in an alleyway and getting shot with luckily no major damage. Batman and Robin come across the scene of what appears to be some weird new gang bullying a homeless child and makes quick work of them.
After all is said and done and they look back to help the injured kid Damian ends up shocked to find that this kid is Danyal. At first he pulls his sword on him making threats thinking this is some sick and twisted trick from the league, but then he comes to his senses seeing how broken and defeated Danyal is. He doesn't flinch or shy away from the fate, though he has tears in his deeply tired eyes he doesn't fight back. He doesn't seem to have the energy to. He just sits against the walled dead end that almost got him killed and stares down the katana as if he no longer fears death.
Things get bit emotional as he questions his long dead brother. Danny is honest in answering he doesn't know how he came back nor does he fully remember how he died in the first place. He also dodges some of the questions and keeps the ghost half hidden. He explains to them he's gotten himself into trouble however and people are after him now and he appreciates the help. He keeps as much as he can about ghosts being involved a secret. He has no idea about the Bat's stances on them after all. And he seems to hate metas so probably won't take to kindly to a ghost.
Damian and Danny share info and Bruce discovers he has a son he didn't know about and deeply regrets not being there cause the state this kid is in is pretty dier. He's not sure he can fully trust the kid though. It's clear he's hiding something and that could be a danger to his family and Gotham, but he decides to give him a chance. After all this is his son and he wants to help him no matter what.
Bruce calls in someone to cover the rest of his and Damian's patrol route for the night and has Alfred get Doctor Thompkins to meet them back in the cave for medical assistance. They get Danny back and he starts getting some treatment for his wounds. Alfred and Thompkins are pretty horrified to find the vivisection wounds on the kiddo. They are definetly infected by this point. And much to Danny's dismay he has to use the excuse that he's a meta to explain why he's got such a low temperature and heart rate, why he can't use sedatives, and why stitches and stuff like that won't work.
So treatment is a bit difficult but they do their best with it. Alfred and Thompkins also discuss what needs to be done to get the kid back on track to being healthy. All the while Damian is anxiously waiting to be able to see his brother again. Bruce has never seen Damian show such emotion and care before aside from when he's dealing with animals. It's so jarring. And of course the other bat kids are snooping trying to find out what's going on.
So recovery is slow and bat kids try to connect with their new sibling whenever Damian isn't trying to act as a guard dog/mother hen. Danny ends up the closest with Damian and Jason in the family. Jason can immediately tell something is off with the kid due to the Lazarus water reacting to him and is the first person Danny opens up to about being half ghost (much to Damian's dismay). Jason keeps Danny's secret for him but encourages him subtly to open up to the others cause they'll definetly accept him despite the fact that he's half dead. They bond a lot on their mutual trauma and of course Damian is jealous but also happy Danny is actually talking to someone and getting back on his feet.
Damian still feels immense guilt over the first death Danyal faced and this guilt makes him think of course Danyal would want to avoid him that Danyal blames him too which is totally untrue and eventually gets worked through but not until after theres some conflicts due to jealousy. But that comes later.
One night Jason decides to stay over for Danny's sake and Danny has another black out. Basically his ghost form goes feral and tries to go after Jason. This results in the discovery that Danny was the danger Constantine has been looking for all along and there's a major blow up in the family due to this info. Danny only stops feral mode after eating a blob ghost (poor lil guy) and gets rudely awoken by the batfam accusations of attempted murder.
Danny is finally informed that he's been killing and eating ghosts and is horrified this goes against his whole goal of protecting everyone and keeping the balance and really goes against his protection obsession. It breaks him and Bruce yelling accusations at him doesn't help at all. Kiddo has a major breakdown and goes on the run from his new family thinking he is a danger and that he blew it with them.
Danny faces issues with injury to his core aswell due to what he's done and how that effects his obsession. Basically he's having a real bad time.
Jason whom has connected with the kiddo knows that this ain't Danny and somethings clearly wrong and so does Damian so the two reluctantly band together to locate and help the poor kiddo. With this team up Damian discovers Jason knew Danny was a half ghost and jealousy causes a fight but they manage to keep the team together out of concern for the kiddo.
The the other Bats team up with Constantine to track him down and eliminate the threat. Gotham tries to impede them though cause she knows the route they are on will only bring harm to the ghost king rather than help him. She tries her best to help hood and Robin find him first.
When Jason and Damian discover Danny he's in bad shape. Kiddos absolutely breaking down and very injured his core is definetly injured for sure. They try to offer assistance but Danny isn't thinking straight he's like a wounded animal so if he gets cornered he fights back.
It really doesn't help that the GiW manages to track him down yet again and the boyoa have to deal with both that and a ghostly Danny whom poses a risk of injury to not only them but himself.
With so much going on its no surprise that the GiW actually succeeds in capturing Danny. The two vigilante's end up getting knocked out and left to the wayside.
Eventually the other bats come across them and they explain Danny was captured by the thugs that first attacked him. Constantine recognizes the organization and is deeply frustrated but hey atleast it's not his problem anymore right? Wrong. With the kids explanations he realizes Danny was not actually evil. He's partially alive and he is a protector spirit not a rouge one. He also realizes how bad things are cause a spirit like that committing such acts that he has risks destabilization which would probably kill both the human and ghost half. He's no ghost expert but Gotham's giving him signs she wants him to help the ghost kid and now he's in quite the pickle.
So this leads everyone into panic mode and search and recuse mode. Theres a big rescue mission where they break into the GiW headquarters and fight the GiW to get Danny back. Of course he is having a hard time staying stable and they have to both use whatever magic Constantine can muster to keep him as stable as he can and on the spot therapy time to try and stabilize the poor kiddo.
Eventually they get him stable enough to bring him back home but now he has mandatory therapy sessions with Black Canary. They also have a lot of emotional work ahead of them aswell and physical work trying to get a steady supply of ectoplasm so the kid doesn't starve again.
They have to fight the Fenton's for custody aswell and try and dismantle the GiW and anti ecto acts. Its a long process and they really discover just how bad things were for the kid.
They probably have a visit to frostbite too if they can get a portal and this helps him heal and make sure no more ghost medical problems occur. This also helps the family learn a lot of ghost health is tied to emotional and mental health.
Damian and Danny probably end up getting in a few fights due to Damian's jealousy aswell but eventually work though it and become closer due to it. They are inseparable. And Damian also has to learn to get used to Jason being around and an active older brother figure. Bruce apologizes for his mistreatment of the kiddo too. Their relationship stays a bit rocky for a long while but they definitely make progress.
Theres a lot of emotions and emotional conflict and things are very rocky for awhile but eventually they get to be a functional and loving family dynamic! Danny gets a happy ending in the end it's not a perfect home but he definetly wouldn't want to be anywhere else :D
This is the longest prompt I've written yet I hope you guys enjoy it 💗💗💗
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rpstartersinc · 1 year
Text
* 𝐇𝐁𝐎'𝐒  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓  𝐎𝐅  𝐔𝐒  /  𝐄𝐏  𝟏  &  𝟐.
feel free to change pronouns / wording!
“ and that’s your biggest worry? ”  
“ i presume the prospect of a viral pandemic keeps you up at night as well? ”
“ you like saying no. ”  
“ billions of puppets with poisoned minds. ”  
“ i was gonna make you birthday pancakes. ”  
“ how old are you again? ”  
“ gonna have to wear diapers soon. ”  
“ you’re still alive, you old fucker. ”  
“ your t-shirt’s inside out. ”  
“ can’t tell you how exciting it was listening to that fucking conversation. ”
“ i was gettin’ worried. ”  
“ i was thinkin’ we’d make some cookies. ”  
“ i don’t know why i talk to her. ”  
“ you locked the door for once, good job. ”
“ you got me a present? ”  
“ i don’t hear anything. ”  
“ that was lame. ”  
“ i put the change back because i’m an honest thief. ”
“ it’s the thought that counts. ”  
“ don’t fall asleep. ”  
“ wasn’t my fault this time. ”  
“ help me. ”  
“ get in the truck! ”  
“ you killed her. ”  
“ we’re gonna be brave, and we’re gonna get outta this. ”
“ are we sick? ”  
“ there’s nowhere to fucking go! ”  
“ i got you. ”  
“ can you run? ”  
“ you keep your eyes on me. ”  
“ we’re gonna get you somewhere safe first. ”  
“ hey! no one told you to move. ”  
“ are you alone? ”  
“ how did you get this? ”  
“ it’s okay. you’re safe. ”  
“ well, the more you shoot people, the harder it is to sleep, i guess. ”
“ you want ‘em or not? ”  
“ fucking fireflies been blowing shit up all week. ”
“ it’s easy to make a mistake in the dark. ”  
“ i’m not asking you to say anything. ”  
“ how about we just let it go? ”  
“ you gonna keep me here? kill me? ”  
“ i give you my word that he won’t hurt you. ”  
“ i’d like to go home and drink ‘til my face stops hurting. ”
“ they’re shooting at us. ”  
“ i’m not a firefly! ”  
“ people are gonna come looking for me. ”  
“ let me out or you’re gonna pay, motherfuckers! ”  
“ i’m not supposed to be here! ”  
“ you can’t be serious. ”  
“ there are worse things than infected out there. ”
“ i got jumped by a couple guys. ”  
“ it’s a miracle you’re alive. ”  
“ it’s a miracle any of us are alive. ”  
“ i was in fedra lockup all day. ”  
“ i need you to take a breath. ”  
“ we’re gonna find out, quietly. understand? ”  
“ i would very much like for you to hurt him. ”  
“ our people are asking what’s going on, and i don’t know what to tell them. ”
“ rebellion takes time. ”  
“ is this real? ”  
“ keep it quiet. ”  
“ you tell me to ‘look for the light’ and i’ll break your jaw. ”
“ you’re not scared. ”  
“ why did you stop them? ”  
“ i won’t tell anyone about any of this, i swear. ”
“ you were safe there until you decided to sneak out. ”
“ why won’t you let me go home? ”  
“ i wasn’t expecting it. ”  
“ you can’t be stupid like this. ”  
“ obviously didn’t take ‘fuck off’ for an answer. ”
“ gimme my knife. ”  
“ it’s our business to know things. ”  
“ you’re the cause of it. ”  
“ we don’t smuggle people, sorry. ”  
“ i know what’s out there. ”  
“ what are they capable of? ”  
“ you trust her? ”  
“ your watch is broken. ”  
“ you mumble in your sleep. ”  
“ i’ve never been on the other side of the wall. ”
“ look how dark it is. ”  
“ but you know where to go, so we’re gonna be okay. ”
“ holy shit, i’m actually outside! ”  
“ you stay close, and you follow my lead. ”  
“ i’m not sick! ”  
“ i should fucking kill you! ”  
“ i apologise about your lunch. ”  
“ is this bite from a human? ”  
“ so they’re still out there... ”  
“ i have spent my life studying these things. ”  
“ i’m not infected. ”  
“ i think what really impressed them was the fact that i didn’t turn into a fucking monster. ”
“ there’s not gonna be anything bad in here? ”
“ better them than us. ”  
“ i’m gonna talk to you like you’re an adult. ”  
“ fuck you, man, i didn’t ask for this. ”  
“ can i have a gun? ”  
“ i’ll have to thrown a fucking sandwich at them. ”
“ they hit most of the big cities like this, they had to slow the spread somehow. ”
“ whatever, i snuck in. ”  
“ you got some balls on you, sister. ”  
“ people like to tell stories. ”  
“ have you heard of books? ”  
“ i don’t know how i was supposed to know that. ”
“ you’re a weird kid. ”  
“ you try climbing ten fucking floors with our knees, see how you feel. ”
“ where’d you learn to do that? ”  
“ no more questions about me. ”  
“ was it hard? like, knowing they were people once. ”
“ you step on a patch of cordyceps in one place, and you can wake a dozen infected from somewhere else. now they know where you are, now they come. ”
“ you’re not immune from being ripped apart. ”
“ from this point forward, we are silent. ”  
“ well, i didn’t shit my pants, so... ”  
“ how about you just take the good news? ”  
“ is it everything you hoped for? ”  
“ our luck had to run out sooner or later. ”  
“ i never ask you for anything. ”  
“ save who you can save. ”  
“ i’m not going with you! ”
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antiquatedplumbobs · 6 months
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~an excerpt from a letter from Will Sewell to his brother, Fred Sewell~
Winter 1915
Fred,
I hope Britchester is treating you well and your classes aren't too difficult (har har, I know you're probably learning circles around everyone else). Things are pretty well here, the cows are all healthy and we're getting ready for calving season. Got some real promising prospects this year too.
It seems all anyone is talking about around here these days is the Valentine's Day dance, something you know I wouldn't normally give much thought to. Elsie has been plain unable to talk about anything else for months. She's shown me the dress her and Ma are making at least five times. I don't know how many different ways I can say that it's a pretty blue.
What's maybe more surprising is Ma, she's been dropping hints left and right that I should ask Miss Clara Parr to go with me. I think she thinks she's being subtle? But it's plainer than the nose on your face what she wants. I'm not sure why she's decided to meddle now, she's never done anything of the sort.
Miss Parr's nice, I think? I'll be honest I don't think the two of us have ever exchanged more than a couple words.
Now now, I know what you're going to say, that for a man of twenty-three I seems mighty scared of asking a girl to a dance. I guess I am getting up there in years, best be carving me a cane soon before my back completely gives out. I know you have your dalliances up in the big city, and you know how I feel about them, but even if I didn't, everyone knows everyone here, If I got to dance with a girl that's no small thing.
You're going to tease me even more mercilessly than you already do, but I'll be honest, Pa's grand stories of love at first sight and how he simply had no other choice than to immediately ask Ma to marry him, may have warped my senses a bit. I suppose it's time I shifted my priorities a bit, and Clara does have the benefit of not having known me since I was in short-pants.
I hope you get the chance to leave your lab sometimes, I know you're busy working on the newest advancements in chemistry and some such, but if that war over in Europe has taught us anything, it's that we've got to seize the day while we still have it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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vylad243 · 25 days
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first, a sincere apology for this MONSTER of a prompt to come — bless my random half-conscious 4am thoughts for sending me down this downward spiral — BUT: we all know how protective/absolutely fucking feral Alastor is over any implied threat towards Vox’s safety: one can only imagine how horrible a fate would befall the poor, foolish folk who have the balls to ACTUALLY try to harm the Radio Demon’s mate.
Like, imagine Vox just going about his normal every day routine, taking precious baby boi Vark on his early morning walkies when he’s suddenly jumped by a group of very brave, very stupid sinners who either 1) want to get to Alastor through Vox and are SEVERELY underestimating the capabilities of the older overlord because he’s (in their minds) a “washed-up has-been fossil playing guard dog for the princess” who’s gotten soft because he’s in love (barf); or b) are hoping to take down an overlord out of sheer hubris, completely forgetting that Vox is literally a living power grid for Pentagram City, if not the entirety of Hell itself. Either way, f in the chat for their courage I guess. Since this attack is premeditated, our hapless captors made through work of trying to clear this specific area — a shortcut through an alley because not even Vox is immune to horror movie logic at times — clear of any cameras or electrical devices that could ensure an easy getaway and blocking off any potential exits they can.
Naturally, Vox — not being some helpless damsel in distress — puts up a damn good fight, at the cost of constant power shortages throughout the next hour or so. Eventually, however, he gets overpowered/taken by surprise and boom! Realm-wide power outage. Now, the gang at the hotel were already wary when the lights began flickering and the internet cut out during breakfast; their fear only intensifies when a sudden blackout strikes and they can hear a VERY pissed wendigo demon barreling down the stairs. Maybe even they find Vark on the hotel doorstep, visibly distressed and even a little injured (only a LITTLE, because I’m not a monster), with a crudely-written ransom note taped to him. Charlie can barely get through the first sentence before Al is out the door — a fifty ft tall, at the very minimum, mass of tentacles and sickly green static illuminating the pitch black streets, uncaring of those foolish enough to end up in his path.
It takes less than an hour for Alastor to find the dingy warehouse they took his mate to: these gentleman are not only bold in their stupidity but sloppy as well. Thanks to the blackout, he slips in undetected with his shadows and makes quick work of finding Vox. The overlord in question is more annoyed than anything else, bound in an uncomfortable position with angelic rope and put on mute (his captors’ egos couldn’t handle his viscous verbal roasts after he already fried them up pretty bad), but otherwise unharmed. Of course, this is Alastor we’re talking about: so much as the sight of his lover in pain, with a crack on his screen and his clothes visibly tousled is enough to spark a raging fire in the seething Radio Demon that would put the fear in God in anyone foolish enough to trifle with him.
Speaking of foolish, our intrepid group of attempted kidnappers are too busy trying and failing to restore the internet to try and broadcast their Very Spooky Hostage Negotiations stream (they rehearsed it and everything! Brad brought the costumes and eerie mood lighting!) to notice the horrifyingly wholesome lovers reunion going on literally right behind them. Alastor wastes no time in doing away with the bindings and making sure Vox is as comfortable as can be before teleporting him to a safe location outside; his lover is slightly irritated at the prospect of being left out for now, but is placated for now with kisses and the promise of watching these insufferable fools burn for their transgressions against Hell’s most ferocious power couple. Because of this, Vox waits outside for the next hour and makes a point of NOT restoring the power yet as he listens to his amazing and powerful mate torment the sinners psychology: the sounds of screaming are just all the more beautiful and crisp without the distracting noise of traffic and the nagging electric current constantly running through his veins distracting him from the most simple of pleasures.
Eventually though, by the two-hour mark, he gets bored of playing games on his phone, restores the power, and teleports back inside to tell Alastor to wrap things up because he actually has things to do today and he still hasn’t gotten his morning coffee yet, damnit. Al relents, teleporting the sobbing and trembling group of would-be kidnappers to the shadow realm, immediately showering his mate with kisses, cuddles, protective bites, the whole routine. Vox is slightly embarrassed at the entire ordeal (mostly at his own actions that led to him ending up here in the first place) but the assurances of Alastor that he did nothing wrong and the confirmation of Vark being alright soothes his guilt. He even allows Alastor to carry him out of the building bridal style as the warehouse burns down in a beautiful show of green fire and blue electrical fire around them (he thinks the view is fucking hot, literally in this case)
Naturally, Al and the rest of the hotel staff are on protective watch for almost the entirety of the next month — not because they think Vox is incapable of managing himself just fine, no; they just fear the consequences of what would happen Hell-wide if he were to go missing again. Vox can’t bring himself to be annoyed because he, more than anyone, is aware that Alastor would fistfight Lucifer and the entire order of Hell itself to ensure his safety. Not that he’s complaining anyway: his attention-craving ass is VERY much reveling in the almost 24 hour cuddle sessions and kisses, and Vark very much appreciates Al accompanying them during their morning walks now because he gets double the treats.
And the sugar on the cream comes later on in the week after the incident, when a VERY special, extended broadcast of Alastor’s radio show goes live on air, featuring a VERY special guest star: the media overlord himself, who would like to send a little message to the denizens of Hell that overlords are not to be messed with and are in power for a REASON. Alastor let’s him take the reins like the good, supportive partner he is, of course — any fool who dares to touch HIS mate has earned the cruel fate lined up in store, especially those with less than savory intentions (and sue him if he thinks the sight of his lover reveling in the suffering of those who dare cross him is more beautiful and poetic than the stars and moon and oceans combined)
Despite her usual preaching of going for as little violence as possible, Charlie makes an allowance this one time; in fact, she’s their first caller. After all, these sinners are her family, and woe betold you when you mess with the Princess of Hell’s family. Vaggie is only slightly perturbed by this reaction, but the soft look of pure adoration on her lover’s face as they listen in on the broadcast with the rest of the gang, languidly giving a stretched out Vark in their lap head pats, is worth the future nightmares, she reasons.
I didn't do the whole prompt, but I did my best! I hope you enjoy it, anon ^-^ I also included it in my 'A Month In Rut' series so it's vague enough to keep it spoiler-free of any unreleased chapters!
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