#then i thought it was natalie but in other frames i noticed her shoes are light blue

[marvel1012]

Sins of the Father - Pt.2 "Donna"

Synopsis: AU 3rd season episode of The Bear. Carm makes a startling discovery, and must navigate the fallout.

Warnings: cursing, drinking, smoking, Donna

Word count: 2,600-ish

Author's note: Please read Part 1 first! Likes, reblogs, and constructive feedback welcome!

Part 3

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

Early the next morning, Carm took the train across town and then walked the few blocks over to their old neighborhood. Standing on the sidewalk outside their mom’s house, staring at the stoop, it was hard not to see that December night from almost six years ago– his mom’s car still half-buried in the front room, getting slowly pulled out by a wrecker, Donna hysterical on the lawn, Mikey trying to calm her down, Lee and Jimmy screaming at each other, the neighbors filtering out from their houses to watch. He blinked hard and the scene was gone– the house looked good as new, like none of it had ever happened. 

He steeled himself with a deep breath, thought about lighting up one more time before going in, just to slow his brain down for a minute, then thought better of it. He needed to get this over with, so he could get back to The Bear and make sure the week’s inventory got done on time. 

Let it rip.

He marched up the front steps and tried the door. Not surprisingly, it was unlocked. Typical. He opened it slowly, sticking his head inside and looking around. “Mom?” 

“Carmen? Is that you?” Donna’s voice sounded like it was coming from the back of the house, a bedroom, probably. 

Stepping inside, Carm shrugged off his coat and hung it on one of the hooks next to the door. He didn’t bother removing his shoes, though– he didn’t think he’d be staying that long. Knowing Donna, this conversation was gonna go over like a ton of lead bricks. As he walked down the photo frame lined hallway, he couldn’t help but glance at a few of the old family group shots. How could he have ever looked at himself next to Mikey and Natalie and believed they came from the same family? Nat may not have been the spitting image of her father, but she sure as hell looked more like him than Carmen ever had. As the photos got older and his siblings got younger, the resemblance to Jerry got even more noticeable. 

He stopped briefly in front of a group picture from when he was still a baby, probably not even walking yet. It must have been Easter or something, because the entire family was dressed up in all their early 90’s glory. Michael was probably around thirteen, Nat was just a toddler in a frilly white dress, Donna was holding her hand and probably coaching her to look into the camera and smile. Carm was being held by Jerry, and staring wide-eyed at something slightly to the right of whoever was taking the photo. His brilliant, bright blue eyes and curly, sandy hair stood out like a sore thumb when you saw them all together. He heard Sam’s sneering voice in his head, “Who did that crazy bitch think she was foolin?” 

“Carmy?” 

When he made it to the bedroom, the first thing he noticed was all the mess. There were open paint cans, drop cloths, brushes, rollers, half-filled trays of paint, and Donna, perched on a step ladder with a metal pole draped across her lap. She had obviously just stopped sanding, because she was covered in a fine layer of dust. As always, she was sipping a glass of her favorite red wine. 

At 9:30 on a Tuesday morning. Christ. 

“Uh, hey Mom. You ah, repainting the bedroom?” 

Donna grinned. “Sure am. I read in one of those house magazines that nobody does the textured look for paint anymore, it’s all gotta be a single color now. First you gotta sand it, then you gotta paint over it. Next week I’m taking down the wallpaper in the bedrooms upstairs! Repainting those too!” She giggled and took another swig. This was most definitely not her first glass of the day. 

“Oh, okay. Ya know, most people hire a bunch of guys for big paint jobs. We could find someone to handle the wallpaper, too. The Bear’s finally doin’ alright and–” 

“No,” Donna snapped, cutting him off. 

Shit, I haven’t even been here five minutes and she’s already mad at me. 

“But, it’s really no trouble. I can even pay for it, that’s what I was tryin’ to say.” 

“I don’t want a bunch of strangers coming into my house, breakin’ things, makin’ a mess, getting paint and God knows what else on my furniture,” she finished off the wine and nearly dropped the glass while sitting it down, apparently oblivious to the mess she had already created. “I know what this is, you think I can’t do it on my own. You think I’m too old, and and frail, and and, old.” 

“No, no, that’s not it Mom, I just wanted to help, is all. I was just trying to be nice, and help you.” 

“Well I don’t need it. I don’t need you doing things for me. I’m capable of doing things for myself. And I can pay for things, too. I don’t need your money.” She was clearly ratcheting up, and then, in half a second, her mood turned on a dime, and where once there was righteous anger, embarrassment had taken its place. Carmen could see the shift when it happened, having spent years trying to gauge and wrangle Donna’s moods. 

“Aww, Carmy, I’m sorry for getting mad,” she pouted, “You were trying to do something sweet for me, and I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m really glad that your restaurant is doing good, I really am.” 

“Thanks Mom,” an awkward pause while he thought of something else to say, to move the conversation away from whatever it was about the painting that had set her off, “Hey, ah, Nat told me she and Pete brought the baby over to visit last weekend, how’d that go?” 

Donna beamed, “It was great, just great. She’s a cute little thing, but looks a little bit too much like Pete, which is going to be unfortunate for a little girl,” she picked up her empty wine glass and gestured toward the hallway, “I need a refill, let’s talk in the kitchen.” 

Carmen followed along behind as she retrieved the open wine bottle from the fridge. Before filling her own glass, she held up the bottle, offering. “Oh, no, I can’t right now. Gotta get back to work in just a little while. Thanks, though.” Donna shrugged with a “suit yourself” smirk and dumped the rest of the bottle into her glass, filling it almost to the rim. She was chatting  excitedly between sips about her “very first grandchild”, how good Nat seemed to be doing as a first time mom, how she couldn’t wait to babysit (if Carm had been drinking, he might have spit his wine out at that idea). 

Since they appeared to have moved back to solid ground, he figured it was now or never. He waited for Donna to take a breath, then cut in. “Hey, so, what I came over to talk to you about. Last night, this guy came by The Bear after we closed. He said his name was Sam Morris.” 

Her head snapped back as if she’d been struck. “What did you just say?” 

“Well, uh, there was this guy, named Sam Morris. He came by the restaurant last night to talk to me. Actually had the nerve to ask me for a job, talked to me like I should know who he is. Should I know who he is, Mom?” 

“I- I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Donna quickly crossed the kitchen to toss the empty bottle into the trash can. “I’ve never heard that name in my life.” She went to the sink and began to furiously scrub her hands under the running tap, as if she had just conveniently noticed that they were covered in dust. “Why would you even ask me about some strange man looking for a job?” 

“Mom, you know why. Sam Morris said that he’s my dad. He said he was my real father, and that I should ask you about him.” 

“Jesus Christ, Carmen, are you gonna to listen to every lunatic walkin’ the streets of fucking Chicago?” Her voice may have been steady, but Carm noticed that her hands were shaking as she grabbed a nearby dish towel and dried them off. 

“Mom,” he softened his tone, trying to appeal to reason, “Richie already told me what he knew about what happened. So we can be honest about this.” 

Donna made a big show of rolling her eyes. “Uh huh, okay, Richard Jerimovich, that paragon of honesty and virtue. That’s who we’re getting our ‘facts’ from these days? Right.” She grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the counter and lit one. 

Why couldn’t anything ever be easy with this family? 

“Richie would never lie to me about something like that, and you know it. Now I’m going to ask again, politely, will you please tell me what happened with Sam Morris?” 

“Oh, I don’t want to talk about that, Carmy. Let’s just go back to having a nice morning together, okay? Let’s forget about Sam Morris. He’s nothing, he’s nobody.” 

Carmen could feel a hot flush spreading from his neck up to his cheeks as his temper started to flare. “No, Mom. I have a right to know where I came from. I’m an adult, and I want you to tell me the truth. Tell me what happened.” 

Donna’s eyes narrowed over her cigarette as she took a long drag and exhaled slowly. Finally, she started to nod, “Okay, alright. Sure, you wanna know? I’ll tell you.” 

“Good, yes. Thank you.”

“You don’t remember anything about your fath— Jerry, because you were so young. But he was a real piece of work. Your Uncle Jimmy got him mixed up in something, and Lee was in on it too. He was gone all the time. All the time. He should have been here, helping me raise his children, but whatever he had going was obviously more important than me and Mikey and Natalie. He’d come home drunk, 4:00, 5:00 in the morning. I was here, all the time, doing everything by myself as usual, and he’d just stumble in after doing God knows what all night with those crimi-”

“Are you just gonna shit on Dad for the rest of the day, or are you getting to the point?” 

She took a deep sip of wine, then pointed at him with the two fingers clamped around her cigarette. “You shut your trap. I’m gettin’ there.” 

Carm shrugged. Coulda fooled me. 

“One night, your father was out with Jimmy and Lee, of course. Mikey and Richie were spending the night with their friend down the street, and I was so lonely here by myself with Sugar. Sam stopped by to return some tools he had borrowed from your dad at work that day. We had a drink together. Then another drink. And another drink. Honestly, probably another drink–” 

“Mom, I get it. You were drinking together.” 

“Well, after a lot of drinks, one thing led to another and,” she threw up her hands, “I made a mistake, Carmy. I made a mistake. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

Carmen felt stung by that. “Thanks for reminding me about what a huge fucking mistake I am, Mom.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant. You’re not a mistake, being with Sam was a mistake. But I was lonely, and your fath– Jerry– was never around. He was always scheming, always starting this and that but never following through, always boozing, probably had something going on the side himself all those years–” 

“Jesus Christ, are you really gonna to sit there and blame Dad for all of this? You were there, too. You made your own choices. Dad didn’t make you fuck that guy.” Carm was breathing hard now, practically seething with rage. He thought hearing the truth would set him free, but if anything it was just pissing him the fuck off. 

Donna shook her head, ignoring his outburst. Her expression had turned wistful, like she was reliving the past more than she was talking to her son in the present. “It was just one time, just that one night. I was so lonely, Carmen. And Sam seemed nice, he listened to me. Actually listened.” 

Suddenly, Carm was struck by the impression that none of this was real. Something about the way Donna was explaining the situation didn’t add up. Richie made it sound like there was more to this than some drunken one night stand. The betrayal he described was deeper than that. Some, or possibly all of this, was an act. 

“I don’t believe you,” he mumbled. 

That brought Donna back from whatever booze soaked fantasy she’d drifted into. Between gritted teeth, she hissed, “What did you just say?” 

Carmen met her gaze, “I said, I don’t believe you. You’re lying.” 

She sucked in her breath, jaw clenched, winding up. “Carmen Anthony Berzatto, how dare you accuse your mother of being a liar. How dare you.” That old familiar growl made the hair on his arms stand on end. She only used his full name when she was getting ready to unleash hell. He took a step back, no longer so sure in his own anger. 

“Mom,” to his surprise, he felt tears stinging the corners of his eyes. He tried to blink them away, “I just want the truth.” 

“No!” Without warning, she hurled the half-full wine glass across the kitchen, where it shattered against the opposite wall. Carm felt a few drops of wine splash on his cheek– she hadn’t missed him by much. “You came here to crucify me! You came here to shame me! Well I’m not going to stand for it! If you only knew what kind of man your father really is, what he’s done, you’d be on your knees thanking me for saving us from him, not interrogating me in my own home!” 

Carmen backed toward the door that lead out to the front hallway, hands up in a defensive posture, “Mom, I didn’t mean–” 

“Get out! Get out of my house!” She grabbed the closest object to hand, which happened to be a heavy crystal ashtray, and drew back as if she was about to launch it at him. 

He bolted out of the kitchen and down the hall, grabbing his jacket and throwing open the front door in one smooth motion. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to run from Donna.

Once Carm made it to the sidewalk, he stopped for a second to catch his breath. She wasn’t chasing him this time, which was a small miracle. He was doubled over, hands on his knees, breath misting out in the bright morning sun. He glanced around at the neighboring houses. As always, everything seemed peaceful and calm on their little street. Nobody had a clue what went on inside his house– inside his family. 

He happened to look down at his white t-shirt and realized the whole left side was stippled with drops of red wine. Probably how his shirt would look if he was standing next to someone when they got shot, except the stains were just a little too purple to actually be blood. Wonder if Mom’s blood looks like this now? Is it mostly wine? A strange giggle escaped his chest. Was he losing it? He straightened and took a deep breath, steadying himself. 

At this point he only had access to two people who could tell him what happened between his mom, Sam Morris, and Jerry Berzatto. At least one of them had just lied and then thrown a wine glass at his head, so that door was closed. That left just the one remaining participant. 

Sam. 

(To be concluded…)

#the bear fanfiction #the bear au #carmy berzatto #donna berzatto #the bear fic #the bear fx

[moxfirefly]

Hi, I love ur blog and the way u write sooo .Can I have a Bloody Kiss, with reader and Raphael, were the reader is a serial killer otta business bc she fell in love with him, tho he never knew that,. And just one day she finds Raph an Mickey fighting against some foot soldiers and at a certain point she notice Mickey is cornerd and she decide to intervein, tho she loses it a bit and end up killing all the soldiers. ( BTW the story ends up well, I mena they accept what she did and have done and Raph actually finds it a turn on? ) ( hope this is not 2 much).

Okay I’m digging this but gonna take a few liberties here and there. Hopefully the few modifications are liked.

TW: Blood, Violence, Fighting, Depictions of death

Rated Explicit (18+)

“If I told her that I loved you

You'd maybe think there's something wrong

I'm not a man of too many faces

The mask I wear is one”

Peace.

That was the main feeling.

Finding peace along the way had not been easy. Often it felt like an impossibly fruitless endeavor. You’d die doing what you did, either get killed by one of your hits or subcomb to ailment along the way.

Being a Murder-for-Hire had its perks as morbid as it sounded. You felt like you were living out that one movie with Natalie Portman. You’d seen it, scoffed at how unrealistic it was, especially the tender parts.

You didn’t know what tender was.

That is until you came across Raphael.

The game changed there, this current lifestyle would simply not suffice. Why did he have to go ahead and show you that there was more to this life? Why did he have to go and show you what lay beneath his rough around the edges persona?

You went M.I.A soon after that. You opted for peace in your soul even if your mind did not inhabit it at times. Life with Raphael had been challenging but there was two things you were certain of, one: you were stupidly enough, two: if anybody were to hurt him in any way there would be so much hell to pay.

So this was retirement, yes?

Well you wished it had remained as so. Unfortunately life has a way of testing one, even the secrets you wish to bury so far beneath that they seem dead just happen to resurrect themselves. It happens one night, without thought, without hesitation.

Raphael and Michelangelo are in trouble. You hear the messages from Donnie’s hub while you’re at the Lair, the fear in Mikey’s voice makes your skin breakout in goosebumps. There was no way Leo and Donnie would make it there on time for backup.

You didn’t hesitate.

You took off.

The docks are scary at night but it doesn’t phase you, your adrenaline is pumping already and the sounds of fighting only make your blood pump faste. You briefly contemplate your choices, what way to go about this that perhaps leaves you hidden.

Then you hear Mikey scream. You can only describe it as autopilot. Your feet moved you, yours hands acted and before you can make sense of whatever it is you saw that triggered this mess, you’re looking at bloodied hands.

In truth, what you had found before you was Mikey out numbered by dozen of Foot soldiers and Raph trying to dispose of two larger mutants. Upon your attack they figured the mission had gone south and bailed much to the chagrin of the Foot. Mikey was barely standing, coughing up blood from the beating he had been trying to withstand for Raphael’s sake. Raph in turn wasn’t look much good either, a bloodshot eye, a limp and so much blood you didn’t know if it belonged to him or the others.

Raph approached slowly, seeing a new hooded figure. Friend or foe? He figured the latter, already making for his sai he only stopped dead in his tracks when you pushed your hood away. The combat knife was covered in blood and chunks of flesh, you were sure the same picture of death was painted on you.

“Y-Y/n?” There was disbelief, questions and even a slight relief to his voice. Mikey’s own shocked gaze landed on you from where he was seated, panting from the fight. Where could you even begin? Would he understand? Would he comprehend your past?

You took a step, caution in your frame as you hoped to approach him and hold him.

Out of his eyesight you saw one of the soldiers stir and slowly rise. He had a perfect shot towards Raphael, he wouldn’t see it coming, much less with his current distraction.

“Raph!” You took off towards him just as the soldier lunged. The clatter of bodies connecting, weapons falling assaulting your ears. You rolled around with the soldier, finding your knife and quickly digging it into the bastards chest. A fatal hit. The killing blow.

But anger shook you, it somehow always found it’s ugly little head when it came to you.

So you stabbed.

And stabbed.

And stabbed.

Until your vision cleared, until the notion of Raphael being gone or Mikey being gone left you. You stood on shakey legs, turning towards Raph who was still frozen on the spot.

It’s for you

“They... I had to, they would’ve killed you both” You looked at your bloodied shoes, crimson staining your jeans and a quiet fear that Raphael would probably not understand this.

You only registered Raph’s large hands on your face because they moved you upwards just as he came down, lips first on yours.

You tasted blood, his for sure because the cut on the inside of his mouth bleed steadily, staining your lips and chin. He kissed you with a fever that only spoke of his own fear that maybe this wouldn’t be happening. If you hadn’t come, if you hadn’t saved him, he wouldn’t be trying to kiss straight into your soul via your mouth.

You felt like your were backwards, coming out into life the wrong way but with Raph, and his impossibly green eyes and scarred lips, there was no reason to linger on it. The past could remain but it didn’t mean it had to breath.

He pulled back, thumb rubbing your chin of spittle and blood. There was no judgement there, concern yes.

That night when everyone was home safe and tended to, you found yourself in his bed hair wet from your shower. “Hey there” Came Raphael’s soft voice from the door, you scanned him. He was freshly showered and bandaged as he entered and sat on the bed. You climbed into his lap, curling yourself around him and the cool of scales around you.

“It’s not me anymore...” Your voice felt small.

“It’s okay baby girl” He held you close.

“I had to... I had to be like that once upon a time, to survive but then I met you and I just wanted to start from zero with you, wanted to make it right this time” You felt your eyes well up with tears but Raphael’s gentle rocking only served to make you sleepy.

For now, sleep prevailed but thankfully against his hard plastron.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt raphael x fem reader #tmnt raphael x reader #tmnt raph x reader #raphael x reader #raph x reader #tmnt raphael #tmnt Raph #raphael tmnt #kiss prompt #violence #blood #ask #azra3339

[blissfulsun]

based on this lovely request

word count: 1,462

Wish you were mine // Jeff Wittek

You meet the friend group by chance, only showing up to pick up Taylor and head off for dinner and a catch up when you’re somehow pulled into the madhouse, David not taking your protests for an answer, a man on a mission with a camera in hand, you can’t say no. 

She’s mentioned them all in conversation before, names passing your mind in a blur as they become familiar over time, your hangouts becoming more frequent, numbers swapped, stories and memories shared with an endless supply of laughter. 

One particular name never seems to leave your mind, handsome face finding home in your thoughts and heart within a few short months. 

Jeff’s somehow better than the pictures, sweeter than in your best friend’s stories of his chivalry and cheekiness that matches your own with ease. 

He finds a home in you as a friend, a quiet favourite in the group, though the others understand it without you having to say so, see the way you look at him, how his eyes reciprocate that same spark. 

You park down the street, the setting eerily familiar but this time you comfortably stroll inside, Dave’s place a second home to you by now. 

It’s a hilariously identical scene: Zane running around, Natalie and her boyfriend cuddling on the couch, Ilya & David with a camera in hand and your best friend stood by the kitchen counter, head thrown back in laughter. 

You almost smile, lips pulling up naturally at the sound of the blonde’s happiness, always contagious to you in the years you’ve spent attached at the hip. 

But then your eyes shift a little to the side, enough to see Jeff leaning close beside her, teeth on show and eyebrow raised and you fight to keep emotions flooding your chest in control. 

Especially once Zane notices you and runs in that direction to wrap his arms around your frame in hello. 

‘Baby!! You made it. Ugh thank god, I’ve had enough of all these couples I need my partner in crime’ 

Your laughter is forced, smile a little shaky at the realisation that holy shit, your best friend possibly likes the same guy. 

There’s no time to wallow in pity, not as the others greet you and get ready to play a game of poker someone mentioned in your group text earlier in the day. 

You end up in teams: Natalie and Todd, David & Ilya, Zane and yourself and finally, Taylor and Jeff. 

Would it be mean to your teammate if you threw the whole game in order to get out of there?

You scold yourself at the thought, mind spinning in search of missed sings. 

Had she mentioned him more than any of the others?

Giggled while recalling a funny story or spending time in the group? 

The thought that Taylor has kept this from you is almost as painful as the sight of them huddled together and whispering as the evening goes on. 

‘I thought you were supposed to be good at this y/n!!’ Zane playfully moans, upset as you lose for the second time in the row. 

You clear your throat, shoulders set back and eyes avoiding a familiar brown pair that’s been observing you from across the table. 

Jeff notices the small details, how you zone out as time passes, your legs retracting from his own long ones as he tries to poke your foot carefully in a silent ask to get you to look at him. 

There was no hug hello, no warm embrace that sets his cheeks alight and heart stuttering in his chest as soon as you walk through the door and into his arms. 

He tries not to think about it too much but suddenly Taylor’s insistence of your returned feelings seems doubtful. 

Why does he feel like he’s somehow messed up when you’ve barely spoken a word to him tonight? 

His opportunity to ask you comes eventually.

Jeff corners you as you leave the bathroom, hallway half lit and your breath lodged in your throat when you stumble directly into his chest as you turn the corner. 

‘Careful darlin’ you hate how much of an effect two simple words have on your body. 

Stop. You need to get a grip, can’t be feeling this way about your best friend’s...whatever he is. 

‘Doll are you listening to me?’ His teasing tone snaps you back, expression lost as you miss half of his speech. 

Jeff laughs, lips involuntarily lifting at the corners as he watches you, taking in each detail of your pretty features: bright eyes, soft cheeks and lips that almost steer his thoughts in a vastly different direction. 

He has to pull back, clear his throat before stepping closer as he adds. ‘I was saying...you seem off tonight, is everything alright darlin’? If you’re tired we can call it a night and I’ll take you back to yours, or mine if you wanna finish that movie we-’ 

‘NO’ each of you winces at your rushed interruption, your own expression panicked and his brown eyes lost.

It’s quiet for a moment, uncomfortable for the first time since you’ve met him as Jeff tries to figure you out. 

Your body has a mind of its own, panicked at the moment as you attempt and rush past his. 

Except Jeff steps to the side, blocking your way once again. 

‘Y/n, what’s wrong? Have I done anything? ...cause I’ll make it up to you-’ 

The way your head shakes instantly in denial makes him pause, lost at the mixed signals you’ve displayed all night. 

‘You haven’t done anything I just-’ 

I just wish I could be happy for you but I don’t know if I can. The words are there, on the tip of your tongue. 

Jeff sees the pause, a small shift that makes you stand straighter before you clear your throat and replace whatever’s been weighing heavy on your heart with a ‘Tay’s probably waiting for you, let’s get back to the game’ 

Jeff’s more confused than ever, left arm finding it’s way around your waist easily. 

It fits perfectly around the dip there, palm splayed across your back in familiar warmth, you’re ashamed to admit you’ve missed the comfort of his touch. 

The reminder that these small affections will grow few and farther between makes you wince, the man close enough to catch the vulnerable sound leaving your mouth.

‘Taylor can hold her own, I was hoping you’ll agree to my escape plan doll, thought I could steal you away for a little while’ his words are sweet, reminiscent of other times the two of you have sneaked away to spend your night in the solace of his or your home. 

‘Y/n?’ Jeff’s panicked questioning makes you aware of the tears suddenly blurring your eyes, his face leaning down closer through the haze in your sight. 

‘Stop.’ you beg. ‘I can’t - Tay’s my best friend.’ At his confusion, you find enough courage to add. 

‘I can’t be your friend Jeff...you’re with my closest friend and it’s already fucked up how much I like you without this’ you gesture between you, one hand tightened in a fist as it bumps against his hard chest. 

Jeff huffs, delusioned laughter rumbling in his chest at your words. 

‘Doll? I’m - Taylor and I aren’t together, I’ve’ he sounds almost disbelieved before continuing.

‘I’ve been crushing on you for fuckin’ months’ his reply making you pause. 

It’s enough time for Jeff to wrap his other arm around your middle. fingers tightening their hold as he pulls you closer until there’s no space between you. 

It still feels like he’s too far. You decide, leaning up on your toes to wrap your own arms around his neck as your lips meet in reply. 

It feels euphoric, finally having his mouth slotted against your own, endless nights spent tossing in bed thinking about this, days counting down the minutes until you finally see him for even a short while. 

There’s no other noise except his soft groan received by your awaiting mouth when your fingers pull at the hair growing at the back of his head. 

Jeff’s own hands are everywhere, one up at the nape of your neck while the other firmly grasps at your ass before finally wrapping around the loops of your jeans when you both pull away for air, his forehead falling against your own. 

‘You think they’ll see us if we sneak past the shoe rack to the door or should we just get out through David’s bathroom window?’ your question and cheeky smile garner a round of laughter in reply as Jeff pulls you further into the house and to the bathroom before he kisses you once and then again before unlocking the window to pick you up and pull himself up and outside. 

#thank u for reading!!🥺💓 #jeff wittek #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek x reader #jeff wittek blurb #jeff wittek fanfiction

[please-buckme]

The Assistant

Hayden Christensen x reader

Chapter 5

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Not my gif!

“And then you kissed him..?” Your roommate asked as you relive the embarrassing moment you had with your boss. Your roommate, Natalie, had just gotten home from a long shift at the nearby hospital. She was a nurse, shitty pay, shitty hours. So neither of you had had much down time to talk to each other as of late.When you both had a day off together though, you’d usually sit on the couch, drink wine and fill each other in on the drama in your lives.

The wine glasses in your hand hung lazily while you thought back to the night that happened almost three weeks ago. Still embarrassed just at the slightest thought of the memory. “Yup.”

“And then what?”

“Well..” You smirk, looking at her mischievously.

“Oh my god, what.” Natalie smiles, pouring another glass of wine, knowing you’re about to fill her in on something wild.

“So I went in the next day…”

Flashback

You’d stood at the elevators, waiting for Hayden’s arrival. You were so nervous that you hadn’t even gone to your desk, backpack and tennis shoes still on.

When the elevator chimed and Hayden stepped out you couldn’t help the nervous smile that spread across your lips.

“Good Morning Mr. Christensen.” After everything you’d done the night before you expected a welcoming smile in return but instead he wore a look of disgust.

“Are you wearing sneakers?”

“Oh I- I, yeah.” You laugh a lot to yourself, feeling a little ridiculous at your appearance.

“Was your day off too much? Have you forgotten how to dress while you’re at work.” You stumbled to answer. Instead of waiting for an answer he scoffed while walking past you. “If you need to go home and change, do it. I don’t want to see those disgusting shoes in my building ever again.” His words were harsh and stung with every word.

“Yes, sir.” You followed him to his office as usual, filling him in on what his schedule for the day was. He sat down at his desk as you continued on, never making eye contact with you. You watched his eyes scan over his computer screen, totally ignoring you as he did. Nevertheless you finished what you were saying, waiting for him to give you his usual long list of demands. Instead he pretended like you weren’t even there.

“Okay..” you say, turning and leaving him to his emails. For the rest of the day you didn’t speak, you just sat at your desk and planned out his schedule for the upcoming week. Even when you brought him lunch he said nothing..

Night had finally come and the last person in the office, besides the two of you, had left. It was just another night of chair spinning and hair twirling for you. You’d caught up on all your work that you’d missed, hours ago and you were just ready to go home. After a whole day of nonstop confusion, you were exhausted. Was he playing with you, toying with your emotions? You decided to order the two of you dinner and see if he wanted you to eat with.

The food had shown up about an after you’d ordered it. After you’d gotten it from the lobby you brought it back up to your floor, feeling a little eager to talk to him. You knocked on his office door, no answer. You knocked again, still no answer.Deciding you’d give up after one last try, you knocked again.

“For Christsake, what?” He finally answered, rudely but it’s an answer.

Opening the office door, you noticed the empty crystal glass in his hand once again. “I brought us dinner.” The meals you’d brought up were in a bag brown, paper bag, which you set in front of him on his desk.

“I’m not hungry.” His head is being supported by his right forearm. You’d started to question if he’d been drinking all day. There weren’t any empty glasses in here when you brought him his lunch today, you don’t think. When he speaks to you now he does not lift his head, which concerns you. You knew everything about this man except for what’s going through his mind.

You sigh, looking at the pitiful man before you. You decide to stay, hoping you can get him to talk to you the way he had last time you were in his office. “More for me then.” The paper bag wrinkles loudly, breaking the awkward silence in the room. After you pull out all of your food, and his, you pull the chair out and sit down.

When Hayden realizes you aren’t leaving he lifts his head. “Did I ask you to stay and eat?” He’s trying to dismiss you once again, but you’re not having it. The container to your dinner pops off when you undo the foiled rimming. You unsheath a fork from it’s plastic wrapping, then prop your feet on his desk.

Hayden’s face reads total confusion, which is exactly what you wanted. After he’d left you in the dark all day, he could handle a few seconds. You bring the fork full of food up to your mouth staring him straight in the eyes as you do. “What’s wrong with you?” He asks, in disgust again.

“I don’t know you tell me.” You smirk, just before taking another bite.

“I couldn’t tell you.” He stands from his desk, talking the crystal glass with him to fill it back up with his fancy, hard liquor.

“Let me fill you in then” you say, “I recall everything from yesterday, to which you’ve seem to have completely wiped from your memory. Then, you don’t talk to me all day, leaving me to wonder what’s going on. So?”

“So, what?” He spat.

“So.. what the hell?” You turn to him now as he stands behind you.

“I’m not quite sure what you want me to say. I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.” He chuckles a bit, mocking you. You decided if he wanted to be a lonely, self-absorbed asshole, so be it, you were doing trying.

“Fine. if that’s how it’s gonna be then i’m out of here.” You throw your food back in the paper bag, head out his office door and grab your things to leave.

He comes out to the door frame, staring at the floor. “So, you’re quitting?” His voice was soft, almost sad.

“What? No. I just can’t be around you right now. I’m just just home.” You gather your things then head to the elevators, just before you pass him you stop and say, “Oh and if this is about the kiss, I don’t remember it being that good. So don’t worry i’m not madly in love with you or anything, Mr. Christensen.” Your feet sting as you stomp down the hall to the elevators.

The elevator button glows as the elevator hums its way up to you. Since you were both probably the last ones in the building it got there fast. It dinged when it finally arrived on your floor, but just before you could step in you felt a tug on your wrist. Before you could comprehend what was happening he smashed his lips into yours. A moan escapes your lips at the sudden contact. What was he doing? You wanted to ask but breaking away from him was not an option for you at this moment.

Your hands gripped his face, bringing him in closer to you. While he backed you into the elevator until your back hit the far wall. The kiss had become sloppy with need. Both your tongues intertwining in each other's mouth. At one point he pulled his tongue from your mouth and sucked at yours gently, sending tingles through your body. The whiskey still heavy on his breath added to his element of surprise, making the kiss feel hot and sweet on your tongue.

Your body ached to be touched by him but you reframed from showing it. From the events leading to this moment, you were still mad. However, you weren’t necessarily angry enough to pull back from his lips.

You suddenly heard the elevator ding as it reached the lobby, Hayden most have pressed in between kissing you and walking you backwards. He pulled away then placing smile pecks on your lips just before opening his eyes into yours.

“Better?” He asked, referring to your earlier commenting about your last kiss.

“Definitely.” He pushes off the elevator wall, letting you now stand in front of him. Still so confused you turn to him just before exiting the elevator, “Sir?”

He groans at the nickname, “What?”

“Wh-what is this?” You ask, innocently.

Hayden shakes his head, walking towards you, kissing you one last time, “I don’t know.” He pushes the button to go back up to his floor when you finally exit the elevator. When the doors shut you exhale, sharply, a breath you hadn’t released you’d been holding in.

-

“So what? You’re fucking him now?” Natalie asks.

“No quite the opposite actually. We haven’t done anything since that day.” You admit, filling your wine glass for a third time.

“What?”

“I’m just as confused as you. The sexual tension is unbelievable though. We can’t even be in the same room without awkwardly groaning and clearing our throats, I hate it.” Things had been really awkward ever since. It was clear that you wanted him but you didn’t know if the feelings were mutual, that’s why you hadn’t tried anything yourself. If he wanted you he could have you and he knew that, right?

“And you leave for Paris.. with him.. tomorrow?”

You laugh at the painful reminder, “Yup.”

“That’s a long plane ride and you can’t just jump out when you feel that sexual tension rise again. What are you going to do?” Natalie’s face is written in shock, excited to see how this business trip with your boss will go.”

You sigh, “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”

-

Chapter 6*

Taglist: @haydens-moles @rougestardustjedi69 @valkyrieofthehighfae @anakinswhore @cocassedoodles @basicanti-socialb-tch @alyssa-skywalker @stefslightsaber @alideetoo @princessxkenobi @midnightanixx @luminarahan @missgirlnoname @adovranakin @skylerrae-solo @blondekel77 @romaniansweetheart

[deathonyourtongue]

Willow Run | Ch. 8

Summary: On a horse ranch in Texas, life is far simpler than on the streets of Bakubah, but Syverson has a bad habit of taking in strays of all kinds, no matter what demons may be after them. Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC Word Count: 4K Warnings: Mentions of past sexual assault A/N: It’s late and it’s long and sadly, there’s not nearly as much fluff in it as I thought there would be, but that’s where the story went.  CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5 | CHAPTER 6 | CHAPTER 7 |

_______________________________________________

Message me if you’d like to be added/removed from the tag list!

@fumbling-fanfics@skiesfallithurts@pinkpenguin7@madmedusa178@crushed-pink-petals @fangoria@bluestarego@caffeinated-writer@my–own–personal–paradise@tastingmellow @honeychicana@lua-latina@angelicapriscilla @swiftyhowlz@schreiberpablo@pinkwatchblueshoes @kirasmomsstuff@prettypascal@blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @nardahsb@playbucky@veryfastspeedz @queen-of-the-kastle @freyahelps@cajunpeach@godlikeentity @captainsamwlsn@nakusaych9@katerka88@katerka88@kirasmomsstuff@melaninmimii@alienor-romanova@downtowndk@redhairedmoiraandtheliferuiners @safiras@agniavateira@henryfanfics101 @fatefuldestinies @iloveyouyen@justaboringadult @xxxxxerrorxxxxx @readings-of-a-cavill-lover@alyxkbrl @bloodyinspiredfuck @peakygroupie@stxphmxlls@trippedmetaldetector @radaofrivia@speakerforthedead0-blog @oddsnendsfanfics @shadyskit @snowbellexx @leilabeaux @cavillunraveled @woofgocows@andahugaroundtheneck @onceiwasanun @sofiebstar@kmhappybunny @mary-ann84 @cappot @wednesdaybraids@cheyentjj @cavillhavoc @sleepy-moon-girl @princess-of-riviaa@ok-buchanan @hell1129-blog @onceiwasanun @thethirstyarchive@worldicreate @cavillunraveled @c-a-v-a-l-r-y@neverahdullmoment @henry-cavill-obsessed @rmtndew @elena-lawley @orthotrex @bichibibi @penwieldingdreamer @mis-lil-red @scoopitypoopbloop @lovetrinsy @flightofthefantasies @justrae9903 @raspberrydreamclouds @bilexualclarke @fedaikin @minton131 @holliedaisy23 @mizzzpink @omgkatinka @rn7rocks @elenas-fanficrecs @burdenedwith-gloriouslove @contentobsessor @amber20221 @ohjules​ @writernerd23​ @whatawildone​ @toss-some-coffee-to-your-witcher​ @modernscarlett​

Sasha awoke excited for another note. Though she’d only received two, they’d become something of a calling card for Sy, his thing, so to speak. She loved that he took even a moment out of his day to ensure she felt comfortable and safe in his home, and though she never brought it up, she’d begun keeping them in one of the shoe boxes that came from their shopping spree. Always carefully folded, she allowed herself the small, childish hope of one day filling the box with Sy’s writing, if only so she could go back and reread them, remembering their story from the beginning. 

Flopping her arm down on the pillow, she pouted as she found only cotton. Maybe it was just a formality. Truth be told, while she trusted his character and kindness, Sasha didn’t truly know Sy, especially where it pertained to how he acted as a lover. Maybe the gestures stopped once he knew he’d locked down a lady, or maybe this was just a one off. 

Sasha pondered both sides as she got dressed and headed downstairs, surprised when she found Sy leaning against the counter, still in his lounge pants. Despite a serious case of bedhead, she couldn’t help but find him even more attractive in his freshly-woken state. Sy smiled when he saw her, gesturing for her to join him in the kitchen. It was only then that Sasha noticed the phone pressed to his ear. Sy blindly lifted his free arm up, a signal for Sasha to snuggle in close if ever there was one. 

“Morning, darlin’,” Sy whispered against the crown of her head, giving Sasha a tender kiss that turned her knees to jello on the spot. Squeezing him tight, she pressed her own kiss to Sy’s chest, just over his heart. 

“Yeah, uh, I’m not sure...Would you be able to tell that from lookin’ at ‘er? Okay, okay, good. Yeah, uh,” Sy checked his wristwatch briefly before his hand swept over Sasha’s head affectionately, “ten works. I took the day off, so we’ve got plenty ‘a time. Alright, thank you. See you soon.” 

Closing the call, Sy set the phone down and wrapped Sasha up in a bear hug, a plethora of kisses scattered all over her face before he cupped her jaw in one hand. 

“I called my mom this morning. Told her about you and asked her for advice on the lil’ one, especially when it came to a doctor--”

“I can’t go to one now! He’s got all my information, Sy! The second I go to a doctor and they pull up my name, the insurance company will send a letter, and he’ll know where I’m at!” Sasha interrupted in a panic, eyes wide, hoping Sy hadn’t just done what she thought he had. 

“Darlin’, I know. That’s why I called my mom for advice. The answer was under my nose the whole time and I’ve just been so caught up in makin’ sure you were okay and that things are runnin’ smooth around here, that it totally escaped my mind. None of us Syversons were born in a hospital. I was born upstairs in my room, actually.” Sy spoke soothingly as he held Sasha’s shoulders, his blue eyes holding her gaze so she understood that they were on the same page. 

“Our family’s been friends with the Taylors for years, and Nat’s taken up her mama’s post. I invited her over so y’all two can get acquainted. If you end up likin’ her, she’ll be your midwife and see things through with us to the end. Her husband is actually one of my best friends. We served together. If she manages to wrangle him away from his job, it’ll be more like an afternoon barbeque than anything else. Don’t panic, mama. I got you.” 

Sasha took a deep, shaking breath, emotion threatening to get the best of her once more. Pressing her face into Sy’s chest, she was silent for a few breaths before looking up at him, her eyes glazed with tears. 

“Why are you doing all this for me, Sy? You barely know me.” She whimpered, her breath hitching in her chest as Sy kissed her tears away, his smile sweet and understanding. 

“Because someone helped me once, and I’m in the position to do the same. And because you’ve been doin’ a lot for me too, mama, without even realizin’ it.” At the confusion on Sasha’s face, Sy’s smile grew. 

“I don’t...I don’t open up to people much, darlin’. I’ve told you more than I’ve told...anyone...in years. And I’ve been sleepin’ through the night, which never happens. I don’t know what kinda magic you brought with you, but I haven’t felt this at peace with life...ever.” He explained, a blush creeping up past his beard, Sy’s long lashes dusting his cheeks as he gazed down at the floor, utterly vulnerable.

Sasha’s guilt was forgotten as she reached up and stroked his face with the back of her hand, bringing Sy’s gaze back to her. No words needed to be said as they stood, an island unto themselves, each understanding the other’s heart in a way they’d never expected to. 

“You’re special to me, Sasha. Very special. I hope you know that.” Sy whispered, each word spoken closer to her lips, until his were pressed to hers in the most tender show of affection she’d felt yet. Sasha’s arms slipped around the broad frame of his back as she drank in the gentility that rolled off Sy in waves, knowing she’d never find another man like him. 

She could have stayed like that forever, wrapped up in his strong arms, floating away on the gentle breeze of his attentive kisses, but the clock on the stove caught the corner of her gaze and she knew they had precious little time to eat and get ready for Nat’s arrival. Still, she couldn’t help but cup his face and tug him down for one, much more playful kiss before they finally parted, each wearing a lopsided, twitterpated smile. 

Natalie Taylor was probably the most beautiful woman Sasha had ever seen, and her husband Mark was no slouch either. The couple looked like they were straight off the cover of a magazine, with Mark wearing a smart gray-blue button up, black tie, and matching black slacks, while Nat wore a carmine off-the-shoulder top and high-waisted jeans with heels Sasha was immediately jealous of, even if she’d never worn heels in her life.

Sasha watched Sy greet them both warmly, her anxiety growing as she wondered just what the pair would think of her and Sy being so close, so fast. One look from Natalie however, and Sasha’s worry was thrown out the window. 

“Sy, you told me she was pregnant, not that she was damn near ready to go!” Natalie laughed warmly as she stepped out of her heels and made a beeline for Sasha, her long braids trailing behind her like the train of a wedding veil. 

“You must be Sasha. God, you’re gorgeous! I’m Natalie, but you can call me Nat,” Natalie smiled, extending her hand, which, like the rest of her, was perfectly manicured. Sasha shook it with a shy smile, wondering if Nat was always this put-together, or if she just dressed up for the initial meeting; she couldn’t imagine a midwife who attended a birth in heels and super luxe-looking fabrics.  The cleanup alone would be a nightmare. 

“Sy, there’s no way she just ended up at your gate. Where’d you meet her, really?” Nat shot a playful glare over to Syverson, making him laugh. 

“At my gate, I swear on my mama.” Sy chuckled as he gave Mark a hug before holding a hand over his heart as though he were pledging allegiance to the flag.

“Sy’s always had a horseshoe up his ass with this type of stuff. Shame it never came in handy outside the wire,” Mark joked with a wink, moving to join his wife, carrying her stuffed-to-the-brim work bag with ease.

“Well, however you two met, I have to say, first and foremost, congratulations. Second, do you know how far along you are, honey?” Nat asked, getting straight to the point, her smile faltering a bit as she saw the marks strewn all over Sasha’s arms and legs. A look back at Sy made him close his eyes and huff out a breath. 

“We met three days ago, Nat. None of that was my doing,” Sy explained, doing his best to stay patient, knowing full well everyone assumed the worst, even if they knew him. 

“I was about to say…” Nat murmured, shaking her head, her eyes moving back to Sasha with even more kindness than before. 

“Good riddance. No one needs a man like that in their lives. Boys, if you’ll excuse us a second, Sasha and I are gonna have a little chit chat about the baby, then we’ll be back.” Natalie said with confidence, taking her bag from Mark before giving him a kiss on the cheek, having to reach up on her tip-toes to do so. 

Taking Sasha’s arm in hers, Natalie led her upstairs, keen to find out not only more about the baby, but about what had happened to Sasha and how she’d come into Sy’s life. Sasha moved as though on autopilot, looking back at Sy for reassurance and only feeling better about everything when she got a gentle nod of encouragement from him. 

The boys had turned the TV on downstairs by the time Sasha and Nat had closed the door to Sasha’s room, only the faint sound of garbled voices coming through the wood. 

“Well, first thing’s first. I’m glad you got out of wherever it was that you were before Sy, ‘cause any more of this,” she pointed to one of the fresher injuries to Sasha’s legs, “and who knows what would have happened. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, sweetie. You’re safe here. Sy’s good people. I’ve known him since I was little and that man’s always gone out of his way to be kind to others. Even more so after he enlisted. Heart of Gold, just like my Mark.” Nat’s words were earnest and sentimental as she unzipped her bag, pulling out everything she’d need to carry out an exam and then some.

Sasha didn’t recognize half of what the devices were, but she panicked a little at the sight of something that looked more like a penis than anything medical ought to. Nat, seeing where Sasha’s gaze had gone, smiled knowingly. 

“It’s for an internal ultrasound. Helps me see the baby a little easier. It doesn’t hurt, I promise. Have you had an ultrasound yet?” The concern in her tone came with the last question, Natalie fighting every urge she had to hug the other woman, already feeling for her and the situation she’d escaped from. 

Sasha shook her head, too overwhelmed to speak much. Logically she knew she’d have to be examined at some point, she just hadn’t counted on it being so intimate. “I only managed to get to the doctor twice before coming here. Once just to make sure I was carrying, and the second to get some general info on what was normal and what wasn’t.”

“Did they do a blood test?” 

“Yeah, but just in-house. Just to confirm.”

“Okay. Well, we can cross that bridge another time, since I didn’t bring my cooler with me today. Don’t worry though, all my testing is done with patient numbers, not names, so if you ex is savvy to that sort of stuff, he won’t be able to tell you apart from any other woman in Texas,” Natalie explained, wishing Sy had told her more of the story over the phone, but understanding that Sasha’s story wasn’t his to tell. Turning to face Sasha after dousing her hands in alcohol, Natalie indicated to the bed with a kind smile. 

“If you wanna go ahead and lay down for me, undies off, we’ll have a quick look, and go from there, okay?” Sasha nodded, feeling a touch more anxiety as she moved to lay on her bed, slipping her underwear off as she was told to. 

“This won’t hurt, will it?” She couldn’t help but ask, her anxiety getting the better of her and making Sasha’s breathing more laboured than it needed to be.

“Shouldn’t hurt at all, sweetheart,” Nat confirmed, gloving up to do the visual inspection. 

Once started, it didn’t take long for Natalie to find the tell-tale signs of abuse she was nearly certain even Sy didn’t know about. 

“How long ago were you raped, honey?” She asked as kindly as she could, her face one of sympathy as she watched Sasha tense up immediately. 

Though in the back of her mind, Sasha knew what it was, she’d spent years avoiding the word, not wanting to admit it to herself. Tears filled her eyes as she looked over at the nightstand, unwilling to meet Nat’s gaze.

“About f-five days ago,” Sasha mumbled, face red and hot with shame, one arm coming up to cover her eyes. If the house caved in on them at that moment, it would have felt better than remembering her last time with her ex.

“That’s why you ran. I understand. You’re beyond brave, Sasha. Most women, even under those circumstances, are too paralyzed by fear to leave. You took the most important step to save your baby’s life, and that’s something you should be very proud of.” 

Though she wasn’t certain anything would come of it, Natalie discreetly took a swab, labeling it separately, and slipping it in her bag, hoping that if nothing else, it could be used later against the man who’d caused Sasha so much physical and psychological pain.

With her visual complete, Nat set up her portable ultrasound and attached the internal wand to it. Anxiety rose up in Sasha once more as she watched Natalie prepare, and before she could stop it, her voice came out in something of a whisper. 

“Could...Nevermind.” Quickly correcting herself, Sasha shook her head, wiping furiously at her eyes and chastising herself for being such a baby about things. 

"Nuh-uh, honey. None of that holding back nonsense with me. You want or need something you voice it out. Loud and proud, mama." Nat coached, stopping what she was doing and moving to slip a blanket over Sasha’s knees, having a good idea of what the other woman meant to ask. 

“No, nevermind. It’s fine. Let’s just get this over with, please.” Angry at herself, Sasha took a deep breath and nodded to Nat, who still looked concerned, but nodded back. 

Though the ultrasound was uncomfortable, it didn’t hurt, something which gave Sasha only the smallest bit of joy, as she knew it meant she was healing physically. Looking out the window, she mentally checked out through the rest of the exam, responding only when spoken to, and only with what she needed to say. It was all overwhelming, but having shed enough tears in the past three days, Sasha refused to allow herself more, her internal monologue having nothing good to say about her own behavior. 

“Okay, sweetheart. We’re all done. Both you and your baby are in great shape, although I would ask that you start eating more. With Sy around, that shouldn’t be an issue. Man loves to cook,” Nat said with a sympathetic smile, feeling for Sasha even more than before. 

Taking a seat by where her patient had sat up, Natalie took Sasha’s hand in hers. Smiling softly, she looked down to meet Sasha’s gaze. 

“Do you wanna know what you’re havin’, or do you wanna wait ‘till the day?” 

Still lost in her own thoughts, Sasha merely shrugged. “Just want it to be healthy. Nothin’ else matters.” 

Natalie’s lips pressed together, the answer breaking her heart. She’d tended to many a battered woman due to her volunteer work at a women’s shelter, but it never got easier to see just how things that were supposed to bring joy on any other occasion, were nearly always reminders of what a woman had endured instead. Rubbing Sasha’s arm, Natalie stood. 

“I’ll go get Sy. After all of that, I know you could use a snuggle.” 

Sasha decided then and there that she liked Natalie, hoping Sy would keep his word and allow her to entrust the other woman with her and her baby’s care. Though she didn’t outwardly show it, she felt relieved that Nat had the intuition to know when to pull back and keep from being overbearing; it was a rare gift, in Sasha’s experience and one that would be useful during what she could only imagine would be a painful labor.

“That girl’s been through a lot.” Natalie sighed as she took a seat on the couch, handing the ultrasound photos to Syverson. “Sasha’s about 6 months in and she’s gonna be having a baby girl. She was too overwhelmed to even ask about pictures or care about what the sex of the baby is. There were signs of repeated sexual trauma, and she confirmed that she’d been raped two days before coming here. Whoever she was with before? Needs to get bit by a rabid dog and die as slowly as possible, because what he did to her is just…” Natalie couldn’t finish her sentence, too angered by what she’d seen on Sasha’s body to even think of a fitting word.

Without needing to be told, Sy tucked the pictures into the back pocket of his jeans, pointed at Mark then at the barbeque where the steaks were cooking, and jogged upstairs. Knocking softly, he opened the door after getting no reply. 

“Hey, darlin’,” he whispered kindly, taking a seat at Sasha’s hip, one hand reaching out to rub the back that was facing him, Sy knowing she was upset just by how heavy the air was. Still getting no response, he slipped the pictures out of his pocket before getting into bed behind Sasha, one hand sliding under her head while the other went around her swollen tummy. 

Sy stayed silent, not wanting to push. If Sasha wanted to talk, she would; he’d gladly spend the day with her wrapped up in his arms if it helped her more than talking did. Pressing kisses to her shoulder and the back of her head, it wasn’t long before he felt Sasha’s fingers thread through his over her belly. 

“It’s funny how easily you can push something to the back of your mind, to ignore it completely because to believe it means accepting more pain.” Sasha whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. Sy squeezed her hand, urging her to continue

“Nat asked me point blank if I’d been raped, and up until she said it that way, I’d never once thought of what had happened to me, as that. He was basically my husband, I just...I always told myself that it was normal. That husbands just took whenever they wanted to get their rocks off, y’know? But in the back of my head I knew. Knew it wasn’t normal to...to bleed after, stuff like that. Back when I had friends, they always went on and on about how good it felt, and I just...It’s never felt good. Never.” Sniffling, she curled further into the pillow she held against her chest. 

Feeling his rage rise to meet the bile that made a knot in his throat, Sy breathed deeply, reminding himself that it would do neither of them any good to be angry at a man who wasn’t there to answer for his crimes. Stroking a hand over her hair, he gently shifted them until Sasha sat with her back pressed to his chest. Holding her close, he tucked his face into the crook of her neck, choosing his words carefully before speaking. 

“It shouldn’t ever hurt. Even if you’re just havin’ a one-night-stand. What he did to you wasn’t out of love, like a husband’s supposed to. He did it to control you, to make you fear ‘im, because he’s a weak sonofabitch. I can’t imagine the kind of pain you suffered under his hand, but I know one thing; it backfired on him, big time. Because the moment he put this lil’ one in ya, he made you the strongest woman on earth and no amount of fear or control could keep ya. You fought, you got out, and you got to somewhere safe. Never again will he have any power over you. Never.”

Sasha felt herself smiling as she realized that Sy was speaking the truth. She had gotten out, gotten away, gotten somewhere safe. All because of her baby. Sniffling, she wrapped his arms around her tighter, Sy gladly giving her another squeeze as he kissed her cheek fondly. 

“Wanna see your lil’ one, mama?” Sy murmured against her cheek, his own smile growing as he slipped the pictures into view, resting them on her bump. 

Sasha’s breath hitched in her throat as she took in the grainy, black and white image of her baby. Though there wasn’t a lot of detail, it was easy to see the baby was at ease, sucking on its thumb. 

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Sasha asked, remembering Natalie’s question, and immediately regretting her answer. She did want to know. 

“That right there, darlin’, is your lil’ sweetpea,” Sy whispered, surprised when he found his own voice thick with emotion. Sy let out a wet chuckle when Sasha practically dove onto him, hugging him tightly. 

“Congratulations, mama,” he murmured against her hair, Sy’s expression softening as he felt Sasha cup his face. Their gazes connected only for a moment before she brought him down, their lips connecting in a way that made both their hearts sing.

#henry cavill #syverson x ofc #captain syverson #captain syverson fic #fic #deathonyourtongueoriginals #willow run

[vsquadgoals]

Best friends part 2 (J.W)

Y/n, Natalie and Corinna follow David to the door of the frat where he talks to one of the guys and they all make their way inside. Whenever they go to parties like this it’s always madness with everyone trying to talk to David and get in the vlog which works in his favor, the rest of them are there to have fun and get drunk which is also good for the vlog.  

The girls decide to make their way into the kitchen to find some more alcohol since their buzz was starting to wear off from the drive, Zane, Heath, and Jeff follow them into the kitchen while David talks to some of the college students. Y/n is making a drink for herself and Carly when two guys from the frat come over to them trying to flirt, “So I haven’t seen you around here before, do you go to UCLA?” one of them askes as he hovers next to y/n, she shakes her head before taking a sip of her drink and handing Carly hers. “No, we were invited here by a friend.” She sure as hell wasn’t going to tell them that they were here with David, they’ve learned the hard way that it makes it harder to get them to leave them alone later.  

Jeff’s eyes were glued to y/n as some kid flirted with her, he wasn’t the type to get jealous over someone that he wasn’t even dating but it was y/n and she is still his best friend all feelings he has toward her aside he had to make sure she was safe considering he was one of the only sober people besides David and he was clearly busy looking for stuff to film. Y/n makes eye contact with Jeff and winks before turning her attention back to the frat guys she had zero interest in.  

“Listen I’m flattered and all but me and my girls are going to go enjoy our drinks and dance. We’ll see you guys around.” y/n says smirking to the boys and grabbing Carly’s hand as they make their way into the living room where everyone is dancing and there’s a random DJ booth which didn’t surprise y/n anymore, these parties were always strange.  

At this point y/n has finished her second drink and she dancing in the living room with all of her friends surrounding her, Toddy was behind her dancing with Natalie, Carly was with David as he filmed Zane dancing with some random girl and Heath and Mariah. Just as she was about the glance around the room and look for Jeff, she felt strong familiar hands grab onto her hips tightly and pull her back against his chest as she danced. Y/n smirked and looked over her shoulder to see Jeff smirking at her before leaning down and brushing his lips against her ear. “Looking for someone Doll?” he asked loud enough for her to hear over the loud music. Y/n just shook her head knowing he would never hear her over the speakers a few feet away from them. Jeff chuckled into her ear, “That’s what I thought.” He nibbled on her ear before pulling away and holding her hips against him and moving in sync with her.  

Y/n reached her arm behind her wrapping it around Jeff’s neck as she danced, her ass grinding against the front of his jeans, it wasn’t long before she felt him get hard against her ass. Y/n would be lying if she said that she wasn’t as turned on as him if not more, she was still soaked from the incident that happened in the back of David’s tesla.  

They danced like this for a while with Jeff kissing her bare shoulder every once and a while and his fingers gripping her hips tightly until Carly came up to them, “Will you come with me to find a bathroom or something.” Carly begged into y/n’s ear, she nodded quickly before turning to Jeff. Y/n stood on her tip toes, even in heels Jeff towered over her, “I’m going to go with Carly to the bathroom, don’t miss me too much.” She teased her lips pressed against his ear before she turned away from him and grabbed Carly’s hand making their way out of his sight.  

They found a bathroom on the second floor of the house, y/n followed Carly inside locking the door behind her, now that they were in there she had to pee too. While Carly went to the bathroom Y/n washed her hands and touched up her lip gloss. “So, what’s going on with you and Jeff?” Carly asked as she washed her hands and y/n combed her fingers through her hair trying to remove any tangles from dancing. “What are you talking about?” Y/n asked turning her attention to her friend. “Oh, come on y/n don’t play stupid with me, you guys are practically fucking out there!” Carly and y/n giggled, and she shook her head. “I don’t know Carl; I think I really like him but I’m just going with the flow. I don’t wanna ruin our friendship but on the other hand I can’t help it!” Y/n confessed to someone for the first time her feelings for Jeff, they’ve always been there but the liquid courage was making her do things she wouldn’t normally do; sure her and Jeff flirt all the time but it never really went further than them cuddling. Carly was a bit shocked at the confession from her friend. “Well damn, get it girl! His eyes have been glued to you all night; everyone has noticed! Just go for it!” Y/n smirked at her friend and grabbed her hand pulling her from the bathroom. “Come on let’s go have fun!”  

Once they made it back to the living room where they had left their friends David was rounding everyone up. Y/n grabbed onto Jeff’s arm to catch his attention as her and Carly followed them out of the house. “What happened?” Y/n asked him, Jeff shook his head and sighed. “Toddy almost got into a fight with some douche that grabbed Natalie’s ass.” Carly sighed and rolled her eyes, “Jesus you can’t take us anywhere can you?” She laughed and followed everyone to the cars. Jeff wrapped his arm around y/n’s waist and smiled down at her, she smiled up at him and winked following him into the back of the tesla taking her seat on his lap once again.  

Everyone decided it would be best just to head back to David’s and continue the fun there. Y/n laid her head on Jeff’s shoulder on the ride back to David’s while Jeff traced small circled on her back. She hummed happily closing her eyes. She hadn’t realized how tired she was until they were in the car. Zane was stilled amped up and ready to keep going playing it up a little for the camera on David’s front dash of course. By the time they got back to David’s it was 1AM and y/n was exhausted when she climbed out of the tesla.  

“Hey,” Jeff called before she followed everyone into David’s house, Y/n turned and looked at him leaning against the tesla. “Wanna get out of here? You can come to my apartment or I can give you a ride home.” Jeff offered putting a hand on either side of her as she was sitting on the hood now. Y/n smirked and nodded her head happily. “I’d love to come to your apartment; you know how much I love to cuddle with Nerf.” She teased winking at him. Jeff chuckled and grabbed her hand pulling her toward his car. “We’re not gonna say bye?” She asked following him. “God no, they’d never let us leave.” Y/n giggled and nodded in agreement before climbing into the passenger seat of his car.  

Once Jeff started driving to his apartment his hand found its way back to her bare thigh right were her skirt ended. Y/n bit her lip as she looked out the window trying not to show him how much he affected her. Jeff’s fingers rubbed teasingly against her thigh the entire ride to his place, by the time they were getting out of the car her face was flushed and she was almost soaked through her panties.  

Jeff was thrilled when they got into the elevator and it was empty, Y/n stood with her back against the wall as she twirled her hair around her finger looking Jeff up and down. Jeff couldn’t pull his eyes off her the way her dress framed her figure so well and her boots made her legs look like they went on for miles despite how short she was. “God, you’re killing me Y/n” he mumbled stepping closer to her. Y/n bit her lip and smirked looking up at him, he had a hand on either side of her keeping her pinned against the wall of the elevator. He brushed his lips against her collar bone and then up her neck, “Do you know what you’ve been doing to me all night Doll?” He growls into her ear giving her goosebumps, she shakes her head letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Jeff shakes his head and chuckled, he grabbed her hand and places it against his hard cock. “It’s been like this since you came out of that bedroom.” Y/n gasps and rubs him through his jeans while he places wet kisses from her neck to her collar bone. “fuck..” He groans as the elevator door opens and they separate from each other. Jeff grabs her hand and pulls her to his apartment where he can’t open the door fast enough especially with y/n wrapping her arms around his waist and kissing he back of his neck.  

Once he opened the door he spun around and picked her up her legs wrapping around his waist. For the first time their lips meet and Jeff kisses her like it’s the last time his lips will ever touch hers. He slams the apartment door shut locking it behind him. Y/n pulls away from his lips only to catch her breath, the kiss making her dizzy, her lips quickly find his as he carries her into the bedroom. Once his knees hit the edge of his bed he pulls away from her lips and drops her onto the bed, he takes a second to admire her, laying on his bed, lips swollen from kissing and cheeks flushed. “God you’re so beautiful.” He groans before removing his shirt and kicking off his shoes. Jeff grabs her foot and slowly slips off her thigh high boots one by one, it makes her squirm how long he’s taking. “Jeff” She whimpers looking up at him her shoes and belt now on his floor. “What is it doll?” He teases as he undoes the button on his pants looking down at her. “I need you.” She practically moans slipping the straps to her dress down off her arms.  

That’s all Jeff needed to her to say for him to lose it, he slips her dress off her body along with her panties which are soaked, he spreads her legs looking at how wet she is, he couldn’t believe it. “I guess I’ve had the same effect on you too.” He mumbles before placing her legs over his shoulders and kissing the inside of her thighs before his tongue slips in between her folds and he begins to lap up her juices. Y/n’s hand immediately goes to his hair and she grabs it tightly moaning and throwing her head back, his tongue circles her clit and he slowly slips a finger into her dripping entrance. “Jeff!” Y/n moans loudly tugging on his hair.  

Jeff circles her clit a few more times before he can’t take it anymore, he’s removing his boxers and climbing on top of her kissing her lips hungerly again. Jeff lines himself up with her entrance and looks at her again for reassurance before slowly slipping inside of her, Y/n gasps and wraps her legs around his waist. “Jeff, Move please.” She whimpers moving her hips against his eagerly. Jeff smirks down at her kissing her lips again before he starts pounding into her relentlessly. “This what you wanted Doll?” He growls as he pounds into her harder and faster putting one of her legs over his shoulder. “Yes, Fuck yes.” Y/n moans loudly her nails digging into his bicep as her eyes roll into the back of her head. Jeff moans kissing and biting her leg that lays sloppily over his shoulder leaving small marks all over it. Y/n feels the knot in her stomach getting tighter and tighter as she grows closer to her orgasm, “Jeff, I’m gonna cum.” She whimpers balling up the sheets in her fists. “I’m right with you baby.” He moans, Jeff’s thumb finds its way to Y/n’s clit and circles it quickly bringing her to a mind-blowing orgasm. Y/n and Jeff moan loudly together as they both reach their orgasm together.  

Jeff hovers over Y/n a little longer trying to catch his breath as she peppers kisses on his shoulder. He smiles and slowly pulls out of her and falls onto the bed next to her signing happily. Y/n turns to face him smiling. “That was incredible.” he whispers wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her body against him, Y/n cuddles into his side and nods, they lay in silence for a little while before Y/n breaks the silence. “I like you Jeff, a lot.” She whispers against his chest too afraid to look him in the eyes. Jeff smiles and puts his finger under her chin making her look him in the eyes. “I like you too y/n.. We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t” He cups her cheek and kisses her softly on her lips. “I’m just so glad you feel the same.” He whispers against her lips.  

Jeff and y/n cuddle under the blankets almost asleep when a whimpering wakes them, Jeff chuckles and picks Nerf up from the floor and places him on the bed, but instead of cuddling into Jeff like he does every night Nerf goes to y/n’s side of the bed and cuddles into her back sighing happily before falling asleep pressed against her. “I guess I’m not the only one happy you’re here.” Y/n giggles and reaches behind her rubbing Nerfs soft fur a couple of times before placing her hand back on Jeff’s chest and falling fast asleep.  

A/n: Part 3? Let me know! 

#Jeff Wittek #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek fanfic #jeff wittek smut #jeff wittek series #vlog squad #vlog squad imagine #vlog squad fanfic #vlog squad smut #david dobrik #carly incontro #toddy smith #natalie mariduena #heath hussar #mariah amato

[jeonggukingdom]

splinters of love • day XXVI [pjm]

pairing  ⟶ park jimin x fem!Reader

summary  ⟶ a collection of drabbles (one for each day of April) based on prompts by an online prompts’ generator site. Specifically  ⟶  • day XXVI ↳ in which you and Jimin find each other again after years apart and he promises to never let you go again.

genre  ⟶ angst, a tiny tiny bit of smut

rating  ⟶  18+

word count ⟶ 2.189 words

warnings  ⟶ allusions to sex towards the end of the drabble, cheating, heartbreak, hard-hitting confrontation between past lovers.

series masterlist  ⟶ here  (links on mobile may not work, if you’re looking for all the works in this series, you can click on the “!splintersoflove” tag and you’ll find them all there!)

There are some days where you wake up and you know by instinct something is going to happen.

It’s a sensation deep in the guts that follows you whole day long and usually, it is pretty accurate.

This morning you wake up with that sensation of unease that always leaves a foul taste in your mouth, tightens your insides so much it is hard to even gulp down food and store it there and makes you so hyper-aware of your surroundings that every muscle ends up being tense for the entire day.

You are walking down the street to grab some dinner at the convenience store and retreat in the safety of your home when it finally happens.

At first, you don’t notice him.

Eyes glued to the ground and mind rattled with thoughts—most of which work-related—you would barely notice a celebrity even if you were to bump into one let alone someone you would have never expected to be there even in a million years.

“_______?”

The sound of your name is what startles you out of your thoughts.

Your eyebrows furrow, your eyebrows knit together as you slowly lift your gaze up.

Dread and fear are furiously dancing together inside your heart while your mind tries to make sense of what your guts are telling you.

You would recognise that voice amongst thousands. It’s the voice that haunted you for the past two years, filled all of your dreams and thoughts ever since you heard it for the very last time.

But it’s impossible. He can’t be here and even if he were… he wouldn’t talk to you. No.

But your eyes finally land on the man standing before you and in an instant, you are breathless.

Park Jimin.

His dark chocolate eyes are warm and as beautiful as you’d remember them to be. You follow the line of his nose, focus on his plump and rosy lips, on the little smile that tugs them to the side.

He is as beautiful as ever, painfully so.

His hair is blonde now, a stark contrast to the raven mop you were used to. He is mesmerising in his new angel-like persona and you find your eyes glued on him, no matter how much you try to pull them away, fix them on anything else that is not him.

You fear he might just be the fruit of your own imagination, the final evidence that you’ve completely lost your mind and there is no hope for you now.

“Jimin?” Your voice is small, barely above a whisper and it seems to shake him, make him uncomfortable.

How many times have you said that name before, whispered it over and over again in the despair of the aftermath of your break up? Maybe some of that agony still lingers in it to this day. Or maybe it’s your eyes and the way they already shine with tears and anguish.

He diverts his gaze first and your heart turns small in your chest. Does he regret calling your name now? Probably.

You do wonder, though, why did he even bother. He broke your heart two years ago, left you for another woman he loved more than you and never looked back so why… why would he?

Your thoughts halt as he opens his mouth again and the dulcet tone of his voice brings warmth to your entire being.

“How are you?” It’s a simple question but it elicits a bitter laugh out of you. You’d love to ask him why does he even care but you don’t dare to. Pathetic as it may be, you don’t want this moment to end already.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight,” he adds when you don’t retort anything and you can almost make out a hint of guilt in his voice.

“What are you doing here?” You decide to respond because, really, you need an answer because your heart is going all crazy in your chest and your mind is getting funny and dangerous thoughts that shouldn’t be there at all.

He knows this place is around your house, he knows you come here frequently because you always did, even when you were together.

You haven’t seen him in two years. Not a single glimpse of him and now, all of a sudden, he happens to be here?

It looks almost as if he was hoping to run into you.

No. No. You can not think like that. No.

“I…” Jimin grimaces, fixes his eyes on his shoes for a second before lifting his gaze back up to your face, “I was hoping we could talk, actually.”

The fact that you were right does not settle your heart a single bit in fact, it sends your entire system into overdrive. Should you grasp that hope you’re starting to feel, keep it close and hang on to it to the very last second or should you let it go before it’s too late, before you’re left alone and broken once more?

“Why?”

Jimin sighs, shakes his head and dares a few steps towards you until you can almost feel the heat emanating from his body caressing your own.

Your breath hitches.

“Can we do this somewhere more… private?”

You would say no, that out here in the streets is perfectly fine but you can’t bring yourself to say it. Instead, you walk him to your apartment.

It’s stupid, you know it is. You should not let him rekindle with those familiar four walls, you should not spark up the memories of him being inside here to have them haunt you once more when he leaves.

Yet you do it all. You welcome him back in, you offer him a cup of coffee and in a few minutes, you are sitting at the table in your kitchen looking at each other in perfect silence.

“Were you looking for me?” You ask, eyes pointedly fixed on your cup so not to let your gaze linger too long on his beautiful and alluring face.

“Yes.”

“Why? Is there something you need from me?”

Jimin takes in a sharp breath and you sense him fidgeting on his seat as he stares down at you.

“I realise we didn’t end things on a good note but do you really think that low of me?”

You’d like to say no but the truth is that you don’t know. He cheated on you, lied to you and then broke your heart and never looked back so why should you expect something different from him now?

“What do you want, Jimin?” Your voice trembles as your eyes fill with tears. The moment your gaze fixes on him, you are doomed.

The tears come pouring down and you don’t even bother to hide them, pull them away with your fingers and pretend they never happened.

Jimin’s gaze falls on his lap, a deep sigh escaping his parted lips. He looks… defeated and guilty and the sight shouldn’t pain you but it does.

A part of you wants to kick him out of your life once and for all yet another one wants to cling onto him until he promises to never disappear ever again.

“I’m sorry… for everything.” He lifts his gaze back on you and you are surprised to see his eyes glistening with tears. The remorse shines like stars in his eyes and it makes you feel even more complicated.

“I realise I don’t deserve forgiveness but I really regret how I ended things, how I acted before then even and all I did afterwards.”

He gulps down heavily, heaves out another sigh as if every word he is speaking him hurts him more than he is letting you see.

“It didn’t take me long to realise I made the biggest mistake of my life, you know?”

Your eyebrows furrow together, your knuckles turning white around your cup of coffee.

“I wanted to call you or even come here and beg you to take me back but I was so ashamed… Me and Natalie broke up after two months.”

Even the sound of her name on his mouth makes you want to throw up. All the hurt from that time comes rushing back down and you feel like you’re going to choke on it all over again.

You can’t do this, you can’t do this, you can’t do this.

You want to run away. Run away from him, from what he’s telling you, from whatever this is.

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I… I never stopped thinking about you.”

“Please, Jimin… you have no right to do this to me again, please.” Your heart is bare before him as it always was but he had crushed it once so he could it again, over and over even if he only wanted to and that is why you are begging him not to. You are sure you can’t do it all over again.

“I-I know but…” he trails off, his hands grasping tight the table between the two of you and you realise how hard he is trying not to cut your distance short, place those hands around your frame and pull you into a hug.

“Why now? If you broke up with her immediately then why are you here now? It’s been two years, Jimin.”

“I know it’s selfish, ok? I know I don’t have any right and I’m glad you even gave me the opportunity to talk to you it’s just that… I still love you.”

His words break you apart.

You are crying before him, sobbing with the wrenching pain that takes you over completely.

You have been trying to forget him all this time and failing. You have tormented yourself for two years and now he is here to tell you it was all for nothing? That he still loved you like the very first day? Like you loved him still?

You can’t stand it.

His arms are around you and you try to push him away, you yell at him to let you go, you punch his chest and he lets you do it all, he takes it all while silently crying before you, head hung in shame.

You can’t stand this either.

“You broke my heart.” You whimper out and he nods his head, apologizes over and over again until your tears dry and your body relaxes in his familiar embrace.

“I know I don’t deserve you but please give me another chance, please.”

Why do you want to say yes so badly? Why don’t you have at least an ounce of respect for yourself or at least some self-preservation instinct?

“I will never let you go ever again.”

His whisper is full of promises and you’d love to believe him just like that but how can you? You are simply too scared, too hurt, too scarred by your past.

“Don’t do this to me, Jimin. Don’t tell me you love me, don’t tell me you made a mistake, don’t tell me you won’t ever let go of me again if you don’t mean it… Please don’t do this to me, I beg you.”

“But I do mean it, ________. I mean it with all my heart and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you if you’ll let me.”

You should kick him out and forget this ever happened but when his hands grasp your face and you look into his eyes again and see nothing but love and sincerity in them, you simply can’t.

And when he leans forward and you think you should push him away, you don’t and instead, you let him kiss you.

You let his lips mark yours, embrace them as they used to. You let his tongue dance with yours, you let his fingers grasp your frame, caress your skin and take over every single inch of you.

In an instant, you are his again and it doesn’t matter how much you scream to yourself that it is wrong, that you’ll regret it, that you shouldn’t be doing any of this you just can’t push him away.

Your fingers grab his hair, tug on it until he is whimpering in what you know to be pleasure and you pull him harder into you, force your bodies to press against each other until nothing stands between them, not even the fine air.

He undresses you in the kitchen and you let him, he kisses every inch of you and you let him and when he makes love to you, you scream his name over and over again not caring a single bit of who might hear you.

You are his. You always were and in the morning, when you wake up inside his embrace you start believing that maybe he is yours too, again.

You let yourself hope and maybe it’s a mistake in the long run but right now, you are the happiest you’ve been since he closed that door behind his back and you would not trade this with any other thing in the entire world.

Copyright © 2020 by jeonggukingdom. All rights reserved. Do not repost, do not steal, do not translate without consent.

#ficswithluv #btsghostie #bangtanhq #jimin smut #jimin angst #bts angst #bts smut #jimin x reader #bts x reader #bts ff #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts react #!splintersoflove

[judgement-free-sideblog]

Dancing lessons.

Barry Berkman x reader

Hi there! So I was watching Friends yesterday and I came across the one where Joey speaks french, and then I was thinking about how in season 2 Barry already has his Headshots, and I wanted to write something about a false ability he could have put on his resume.

So this will be an 8 part series, and I will try to update it at least twice a week but can't promise anything.

Summary: Barry is finally cast in a feature, the problem? He said he could dance and now he can either disappoint Sally or found a way to learn some steps.

Warnings: Swearing, cheating maybe.

Part 1 ● Part 2 ● Part 3 ● Part 4 ● Part 5 ● Part 6 ● Part 7 ● Part 8 ● Epilogue

Part 1

A sharpie written ad in the door said: "Joe's friend callbacks" that could give him an idea of how unimportant this character was, because so far he didn't even had a name, nevertheless he was happy that they had call him back for a reason other than "You look good on the poster"

Although he was suspicious the "minor" changes Natalie and Sally had convinced him to do to his resume was the reason, he could not blame them, at first the page was empty and depressing, and now he appear to be a very compelling person, maybe someone he would like to be. Someone who could speak french and Italian, and had formal training in at least three styles of dancing, tango, salsa and tap.

Worst case scenario, they had said, there is someone better than you first and is just another bad audition. And so far it hasn't been a problem, people usually overlook that because they didn't need that on their movies.

But now it was different, there was at least three men in front of him and four behind all of them more or less his height and complexion, waiting to re read the lines for the upcoming movie, a place to dare dreaming. As far as he understood it was a drama about a men seeking meaning in life, and Barry was trying to be the best friend's best friend, he would have five scenes in the whole movie and was merely an excuse to make exposition questions and be gone for the rest of the movie.

Not a bad place to start, Sally said, and he might actually make connections and even find an agent. So he was there for some reason dressed with black loose pants and a loose blue shirt, just like the rest of them. Finally after another half hour or so the casting assistant exited the door and call for him.

"Hi, I'm Barry Block, reading for Joe's friend" He said looking at the people behind the table and he notice another woman there dressed as a ballerina, he was not entirely sure why.

"Fine, in this scene you are just finishing dancing with your partner, then Joe" The director point at a man who was already cast as the lead best friend "Yeah, Joe will call you to ask you something and then the scene starts"

Barry did as he was told, and when he was in the middle of telling Joe to go help the lead build the boat of his dreams or something like that the director interrupted him.

"Just one sec, Barry was it?" He said and Barry was already feeling the whole you are not what we are looking for speech coming. "It says here that you dance?"

"Um hum" He muttered every second more disconcerted.

"Tango? Janice you do tango right?" He asked the ballerina.

"No Andre, I only have a career in dance but I don't do tango" She said rolling her eyes "Of course I do" she and when the director look at her in exasperation.

"Then is settled, unless any of the other guys can dance we will go with Mr. Block here"

"Excuse me what?" Barry said a little lightheaded.

"Oh this scene, we originally wanted to have a big ballet dancing sequence that inspire Daniel, the lead to follow his dreams, but we scratched off because of the budget but since you can dance you and Janice can do a small version of it." Talk with Sophie on the way out we start on monday.

"Sure, thanks" he said with a calm voice and walked out to find the cast assistant.

"Mr. Block?" She said now a little more nice than when he entered in the morning. "You'll have to sing some documents and we will be ready"

"Sure, yeah fine, one question tho, what exactly does he mean Andre with me dancing with Janice?" He asked trying to sound casual

"Oh well since they are just adding the sequence I will say that they will tell you exactly what they want in a couple weeks and then you will have to rehearse with Janice and film it by the end of the next month" She said like it was no big deal.

"Two weeks?" He asked again and she could see that he was nervous.

"More or less, but I figure since you are an actual dancer that would be fine right?" He nod not very sure of her statement and she start looking in her purse and finally give him a card. "Look I won't tell you how to do your job, but if by any chance you are not convinced of what to do, you should go here, she may help you"

***

He shut the door of the apartment with enough strength to make one of the frames in the wall shake, of course he was furious. But it wasn't your fault and you wouldn't put up with his temperament. After 5 years of marriage Alan was finally beginning to understand that it was better to walk away and let things cool down before any of you could say something too painful.

And what could you say? You told him before you get married that you didn't want children and he married you anyway. He was not able to change your mind, that was no reason to scream and fight like that. You shake the thoughts from your head and pick up you bag, ready to walk down to the studio.

Your friend Sophie had made you a call earlier asking for your help with another lost case, and usually those pay well so you could surprise Alan with a nice dinner and maybe you would let him convince you to open up at the idea, at least for long enough to live peacefully.

You could tell who your new student was the minute you entered the studio, your assistant was talking with the other couples for the romantic dance lessons and he was in a corner looking at the door like he was planning an escape.

You take the attending list and seek for his name, Barry Block, you hope is not a sing of how hard will it be to make him move, but his large frame was telling you it will.

"Mr. Block?" You called him apart once you were dress in more comfortable clothes, he walked towards you and you could see he was at least 1 feet taller than you. "You work with Sophie right?"

"I do, I ... she said you could help me amm..."

"To make your dancing believable, yes, don't worry you are not the first nor the last actor that lies on an audition, but for future reference put something more achievable like learn Russian" You said part serious part kidding "Learning tango is complicated and demanding, is not just sexy dresses and fancy music, but since this is the land of dreams I can teach you a couple things"

"That would be great, and again I'm so embarrassed that this happened, but I need the job"

"Well that's another sad part of the story this class ain't cheap, and there's only so little I can do for you in three weeks"

"That's not a problem" He said immediately and took a little envelope from his pocket and gave it to you "This is for the first two lessons"

"Excellent, then we can start" You look at his clothes, jeans and a hoodie and very uncomfortable sneakers "You may need to change, and also stretch a little, we don't want accidents" you pointed to the dressing room and let him borrow a more lose pant and proper dancing shoes.

You finishes your lesson with the other couples and after and hour he, you and Macy your assistant were the only ones there.

"Ok for starters, that's not stretching" you told him once you saw he couldn't reach his toes. "Come sit here" You told him and sit in the middle of the floor with your legs completely extended and asked him to do the same.

"I'm not very use to this, I'm in shape as much as I can but this is different" He said awkwardly trying to reach his toes the way you did yours.

"If you don't mind me asking Mr. Block, why do you need the job?" You said standing up and helping him bend his back. "I don't think they will pay you more than I'm taking from you"

"Is not about the money" he said simply and took the hand you offered him to stand. "I need to prove myself I can be an actor, a real one, also my girlfriend is recording a show and I..." he star touching his hair distracted.

"You don't want to be left behind? Yeah I know what is like" You said to him. "Well in that case I would do my best, but for real you have to stop being so rigid" you said taking him by the hips and he flinch with surprise to then let go a chuckle

"I'm sorry" He said and you nodded and put your hands on his hips again "First we are going to have to work on that posture, lower just a bit your hips and bend your knees" You said pushing him down a bit.

"Like this" he said flexing down so much that he was almost at your height.

"Not at all, I'll show you, Macy come here" You call the girl who was already hiding her laugh behind a magazine, she put on some music on his phone into the speakers and walked towards you.

You took her by the waist and started just making simple walks at the rhythm of the music, showing him how he had to bend his knees but not making it all that evident, then when the next song star going faster you started making more quick moves and shen it turn slow you drag your leg inside slowly, and embraced Macy pulling her closer to you.

"Ok, I can definently not do that" he said once you were done, and you felt flattered to se some amusement in his face.

"I know, but we will figure something out" you smile at him and turn off the music to again trying to make him bend his knees properly.

#barry berkman x reader #barry block #barry hbo #barry berkman #barry berkman edit #Bill Hader #barry fanfiction #dance #tango #angst #comedy #drama #romance #sally reed

[pxnk-velvet]

Momma Bear (d.d. Imagine)

Summary: Y/n, David’s best friend, gets a little protective of him around ig models

Warnings: cussing, fluff, ig models, horrible writing (its my first imagine, i know it sucks)

Word Count: 1.5k

“I’m home bitches!” I scream, entering the house, kicking my slides into the pile of shoes at the door. I drop my bag onto the pool table and turn to be greeted with smiles and waves.

“So what’s the plan for tonight?” I question, leaning against the back of the cloud, leaning over Natalie. The closeness normal after a decade of friendship. Many memories made and shared with her and David was right beside us.

After moving to Vernon Hills, I was the lonely new girl in the neighborhood. Up until the day a soccer ball flew through my living room window, and I was the only one home. A group of kids stood outside the broken window, guilt written all over their faces. But I wouldn’t have changed a thing, because without that broken window I wouldn’t have found my best friends. Now years later, I stand in the living room of the house I shared with Natalie and David. Natalie his assistant and me there just for fuck sake.

I lean against the couch fully, my arms wrapped around Natalie, my chin resting on her shoulder.

David emerges from his room, noticing me and Natalie, stating “We’re probably gonna swing by Stass’s house to chill.”

“Yippee.” I mutter sarcastically with an eye roll, groaning when David leans over top of me.

“What was that?” Zane asks, laughing at my sarcasm. Everyone’s attention turned towards me.

I go to answer, but David wraps his arms around me, picks me up, and spins me around. I remove myself from his grip, giving him a “not now” look.

“You guys know. Don’t be stupid.” I roll my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest.

David grabs me by the shoulders and shakes, “Why do you always skip out on stuff whenever she’s around?” His hands falling from my shoulders.

“Because it’s always Stass and then some.” I explain.

Natalie looks over her shoulder with knotted eyebrows, “And then some?”

I sigh, not really wanting to deal with this, “Either Kelsey, or Cindy, or some other fake instagram girl.”

The group bubbles with responses. Either defending, agreeing, or compromising. The chatter loud and obnoxious at this point. I sigh and roll my eyes like a complete brat. Which wasn’t normal. Yeah, I can be moody sometimes, so what? But being this bratty is on a whole other level.

I turn and leave, heading towards the kitchen to grab a drink. I get to the fridge and pull the door open. The cool air hits my face, allowing me to take a well needed deep breath. I open my eyes, my mood lifting a bit.

I scan the shelves for an appetizing beverage. And they land on the bottles of Coke. I grab one, taking the cap between my teeth and popping it off. One of my few talents. Not really a show, but people are still somehow amazed.

By now everyone had died down a bit and David walks over to where I’m sitting in the kitchen.

“Please come. Just this once. I’ll get you something.” He kissing up. I rolled my eyes with a knowing grin, sipping on my soda.

“Hmm…” I pretend, holding my chin in thought, “Anything?”

“Anything.”

====

I walk through the doorway with a large chocolate milkshake in hand. Already preparing for a night of anti-social-ness of sipping my shake. Everyone is greeted by hugs from whoever, while I stand towards the back of the group, near the wall. David is already out of sight, putting me on edge. I knew how these girls acting around David. I wasn’t a fan. It’s also part of the reason why I’m not around when they are.

Once the group dissipates throughout the house, I get a better look at who’s here. Stassie, the blonde one that’s best friends with Kylie Jenner. And Kelsey, the one from that one vlog with fake lips and botox. And then a few others I wasn’t too familiar with.

I was still by the door when everyone had gone to the living room. I follow quietly, walking into everyone scattered along the large couch. With no space to sit, I wander towards the kitchen. I peak around the corner, sipping my shake with my other arm hugging my waist. In the kitchen, people were fucking around on the stripper pole... A stripper pole in your kitchen? Odd. I squeeze by Zane, who was pretending to pole dance, and almost knocks me over.

“Could you be a bit more careful on that, Zane?” I speak up, stepping towards the counter.

“Alright, Momma Bear.” He jokes back, earning an eye roll from me as lean on the counter.

David nudges me lightly, asking, “You ok?” Camera in his hand, recording whatever is going on.

I let out a sarcastic laugh, “I wanna go home.” I say, grabbing his new disposable camera sitting on the counter between us. I mess with it a little, probably touching things I shouldn't be, a flash going off in my face.

I yelp, rubbing my eyes, David laughing next to me. I mock his laugh, something me and Natalie did all the time.

He laughs even more, then Stassie buds in.

“Hey, Y/n, right? You think you could snap a pic of me and Davey?”

“Sure.” I smile on the outside, groaning internally.

Stass stands next to Dave, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his cheek. David smiles but I could tell he’s uncomfortable.

So I make it quick and stand back with the camera in my hand and count down, “3, 2, 1.”

Click

I snap a picture of Stass kissing David. Not on the cheek like I thought she was. She had managed to kiss him on the lips, to which David and I both react.

“Woah! What the hell are you doing?” I push her away off of David as he turns away to wipe his mouth.

“What the fuck, Stass!” He says, almost as angry as I am. She just rolls her eyes, saying, “Like you didn’t enjoy it.”

And that’s what did it for me. My blood was boiling and my teeth clenched.

“What in your right mind made you think that was ok?” I yell, stepping closer to her. My yelling had caught everyone’s attention and they were all tuning in.

“It’s not! If this was the other way around and some random dude kissed you, you wouldn’t be too happy would you, Stass? Huh?” I continue, basically in her face.

“Y/n,” David tugs on my arm, “Maybe it’s time to go.”

Breathing deeply through my nose, I look him in the eyes. They were soft and pleading. I gave him an agreeing look, “Go ahead, I’ll meet you in the car.”

He gave me that pleading look again but listened. I turn back towards Stass and by now Kelsey had joined her side.

“If I ever catch you pulling shit like that again, your done for.” I threaten through clenched teeth. “You too.” I point to Kelsey.

I turn hard on my heel, stomping out of the house, milkshake and camera in hand. I get in the car, slamming the door just a bit too hard, making David look at me.

“Hey-“

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” I huff, putting the shake in a cup holder and dropping the camera in my lap.

====

When we got home, the first thing I did was throw away my hot, melted shake. David decided to get some editing done before having to go back to pick everyone up. He was in his bedroom, while I stood by the trash can in the kitchen.

“What a waste.” I mumble to myself, tossing it out and heading towards my room. I turn the corner and enter my room, falling onto my bed.

“Hey.” David pipes up from the other room.

“What?” I say into my sheets. After a few moments of silence I sigh and sit up. Through the new Black Mirror that was situated right in front of my doorway, David stared at me, leaning against the doorframe to his bedroom with his arms crossed.

I run a hand through my hair, “Are you mad at me?” I ask quietly. I watch him as he pushes off the frame and turns the corner, entering my room.

“No but-“ He sits next to me.

“But what?” I question, throwing myself back, laying down. David following suit, using his arm as a pillow.

“Why don’t you like them?” He asks, turning towards me.

I kept my gaze on the ceiling, “Cause, they only want to use you David. Can’t you see that?”

After a short pause, I spoke again.

“And… as your best friend, I feel the need to do something about it because it’s not right…..but we aren’t kids anymore and we’re all grown up.” I say getting teary eyed. I finally turn to look at him. His eyes glossy as well. He reaches for me and I lay on his chest, allowing him to play with my hair, engulfing me in his arms.

“And you know how I get...Especially with you.” I say, playing with my fingers.

"I know bub." He laughs sweetly, "But now it looks like I should be the one doing the protecting."

I shot up, testing him, "Just because you're a lot taller than me doesn't mean I still can't kick your ass." I laugh.

“Yeah?” He smiles.

“Oh, it’s on.”

#david dobrik x reader #david dobrik imagine #daviddobrik #natalie mariduena #zane hijazi #heath hussar #mariah amato #jasonnash #toddy smith #scotty sire #carly incontro #erin gilfoy #vlog #vlogger #vlogsquad #vlog squad #fluff #bestfriends #youtube #youtubers

[spookyspaghettisundae]

The Closet

Natalie awoke.

Her eyes fluttered open, trying to listen to what was being whispered to her. Through the drunkenness of sleep and the haze of broken dreams, she strained to hear the words, but failed to comprehend their language.

The soup of broken thoughts coalesced into coherence. She remembered: she lived alone.

She shot up into a sitting position on her bed. The whispers felt like they reached her ears from everywhere and nowhere at once. They sliced through her mind, sharp and leaving razor-thin cuts in her thoughts. Fear bled from those invisible wounds, causing her heartbeat to wildly race.

Her closet’s door stood open. Natalie stared in disbelief as blue light poured out of it. Not the warm yellow light that could come from the small light bulb hanging inside there, but something much brighter. Colder. The light itself refused to maintain consistency, for it sparkled like a body of water was reflecting it, ever-flowing and shifting.

When she awoke again, thin slivers of light poured in through the cracks in her blinds. It was morning and time to go to work. She visited the closet and peered inside, finding what she should have expected to find—her clothing, and shoes, and boxes.

No strange lights, nothing out of the ordinary.

No whispers.

She went about her day, dismissing it as something ephemeral. She wondered if she had simply dreamt it all. During work, Natalie caught herself searching the internet on her phone. Some part of her feared that anybody could discover her strange search history.

Nothing turned up on this new house she had bought and moved into a few months ago. The move had been stressful, but nothing about it had been unusual. Not until now.

During another break, she wound up on sites and online threads regarding descriptions and discussions of sleep paralysis and night terrors. Weariness weighed her down all day—as if she had barely slept the night before.

In a moment of silence and solitude, waiting for the elevator to open in front of her, she remembered that bright light. Scintillating, dancing. Luring her.

The soft chime of the elevator broke her out of her trance as its doors opened before her. She rode it down to the parking garage and left to go home. On the drive across town, she distracted herself with music and chatter from the radio, as well as flipping through messages on her phone while she waited at red lights.

Natalie crashed into bed early that night. While brushing her teeth, her thoughts circled towards the strange—dream? Nightmare? She could not say. She expected another such event that night, and the exhaustion allowed her to drift into sleep in what felt like an instant.

She awoke one time and stumbled in the dark for a nightly bathroom visit and then awoke again the morning, feeling fully rested. The day passed and some tricky challenges on her current work project distracted her too much for her to occupy her thoughts with the strange experience.

The more days passed, the more distant it grew. The more surreal it became to imagine it, the more the memory blurred. Such thoughts shrank until over a week had passed.

The closet door opened. It took her several moments to gather her thoughts, leaving her confused and disoriented. She blinked, sitting up in her bed and realizing that over a week had passed. Nine days without such incident.

One of the whispers she heard sounded so clear that she could almost spell it out, though she found it impossible to comprehend.

Dune-Akeer.

Tendrils of forbidden knowledge snaked through her thoughts and wrapped themselves around the memories from a week ago. The whispers continued, dancing at the edge of her perception like soft white noise.

The light shone from her closet; bright blue and ominous and sparkling as brightly as ever. As alien as the whispered words, echoing in her head.

This was no sleep paralysis—she knew that much. She untangled herself from the sheets on her bed and felt everything. The soft carpet underneath her bare feet; the cold hardwood floor. The nightly air kept cool by air conditioning, sweeping over exposed skin. And the closet with its strange light—it drew nearer with each timid step that she took towards it.

Her hand, outstretched, trembled, but not with fear. It shook with anticipation.

Natalie’s destiny awaited beyond that door. The light beckoned her.

With it standing ajar, she saw something through the crack. A silhouette stood out against the blinding brightness. An eye peered back at her, pitch black like a doe’s and glistening and curious.

The door slammed shut and Natalie gasped. The light disappeared with it. Nothing shined, not even a hint of it emerging from the cracks at the seams of the closet door’s frame. The whispers had gone silent and would not return.

She swallowed and felt a pit forming in her stomach. Natalie shivered with the sensation of goosebumps forming on her arms and the back of her neck.

She had to know what this all meant. This was no dream.

No hallucination.

Every inhibition died that moment. Unyielding curiosity took root in her. A thirst for knowledge took the shape of a knife in her mind, thrusting outwards. Matching that motion, she grabbed the closet door and ripped it open.

Darkness had taken the bright light’s place and softened the outlines of everything inside the closet. There was nothing unnatural in there but clothing hanging from hangers on the bar. Several pairs of shoes and boots on the floor. Boxes up top.

She yanked the light cord and the light bulb’s soft glow flickered on into existence, illuminating the walk-in closet’s interior.

The goosebumps settled and any lingering sense of fear crumbled away. The pit in her stomach remained, because she had to know. She had to get to the bottom of this. Natalie refused to believe she was losing her mind.

Rifling through the objects in her closet, the sound of hangers clattering and boxes rattling fully shook her awake. None of this had the quality of dreams, every last bit of it felt so real. She could taste the dust on her tongue and realized that her job had not left her any time or energy to do any cleaning since she had moved in here.

With a violent motion, she spread the hanging clothes apart.

On the brink of giving up and going back to bed with the uneasy feeling stuck in her stomach, she spotted something unusual after all. What appeared to be a wooden surface in the back of the closet was, in truth, a wallpaper made to mimic the texture of polished wood.

She would never have noticed this, had it not been for the top right corner of this faux-wooden wallpaper peeling away at the edges.

Her fingers dug in and tore at it. Natalie tugged and scratched and ripped and scraped it away. Much of the wallpaper proved to be persistent, glued well to the closet’s back wall, but she managed to remove the top third of it.

The pit in her stomach grew and a bitter taste spread in Natalie’s mouth as she struggled to understand what she was looking at. It had to be the top third of an arrangement of symbols, placed in the shape of a circle. They reminded her of old Norse runes, but to her knowledge looked nothing like them.

A sharp pain spread throughout her skull, shooting from one temple to the other. She cringed at the headache overcoming her senses while she tried to study the symbols or make any sense of them. It quickly got so unbearable that she fetched her phone from the dresser nearby and used the device to take a photo of the symbols.

Time and experiences melted into rote motions as she downed some painkillers and a whole glass of water against the headache. She found herself loitering around for the next hour, aimlessly pacing through her darkened home and then browsing the internet for answers. But she found none and—when she realized with horror how few hours of sleep she would get that night before getting up to work again tomorrow—eventually returned to bed to continue sleeping.

She would experience this again and figure it all out eventually—she hoped.

When she awoke the next morning, she remembered nothing else to have transpired but felt like she had slept in an uncomfortable position, aching all over.

Work colleagues who saw her that day asked if everything was alright. A look into the mirror revealed thick dark rings underneath her eyes. She assured her colleagues that she was fine, albeit having slept poorly. “Dreamt something funny and now I feel like I was hit by a truck,” she joked. She knew deep down that she could not tell anybody about her experiences. Checking into a mental institution was just a few disturbing sentences away, she feared.

Natalie tried everything to gather evidence over the next days. She set up her phone to film videos of the closet during the night to see if she was missing anything when she slept, but to no avail. Then she repeated the same experiments by setting up the camera in the closet.

Still nothing.

Days passed and she spent every free second conducting research. She made some calls to the Realtor who had sold her the place to learn more about the house’s previous owners, but got nothing out of it. Natalie joked to her about the place possibly being haunted and giving her nightmares, which prompted a long and awkward silence on the phone call. This struck her as odd, but nothing came of it, and the Realtor’s nervous laugh preceded her saying that nobody had died on the premises of this house.

The symbols or runes or whatever they were didn’t match anything that Natalie could find in online searches or even in frantic hunts through library books.

Days turned into weeks without any results or anything else happening. One morning, she woke up having dreamt about the light shining from her closet, but that’s all it was—a dream. In the hours of footage she had been gathering and filling external hard disks with, she sifted through everything three times to ensure that the light had not returned that same night.

It must have been a full month since she had started researching the history of her home, the symbols in the closet, and eventually even scouring weird message boards filled with conspiracy theorists who shared related experiences. Not once did she find anything remotely similar outside of one account from a person obviously suffering from schizophrenia.

It was around then that Natalie realized with growing frustration that she had become obsessed. Though she feared the consequences, she started contemplating the option of seeing a therapist about this.

She began to question her sanity again, and she especially began to question if what she believed to have experienced was real at all.

Yet there it was—at the back of her closet in her bedroom—she had peeled away all the wallpaper and revealed the full circle of symbols. It was impossible for her to tell if they were occult or alien. They might as well have been both.

One morning, she had finally worked up the courage to call up a therapist. But before she could during a break at work, she got a call from her Realtor, Sally.

Natalie hesitated to take the call. She just froze, staring at the display and her Realtor’s name on it, “Sally Summers.” Natalie tapped it and took the call, likely only seconds before Sally would have given up on the call.

The pit in her stomach returned. Her innards knotted and a weird tingle danced and pirouetted down Natalie’s spine as she heard her Realtor out.

Sally admitted that she had done some digging, and found out that the owner before the last one—from nearly thirty years ago—was some sort of kook. His family had died in an accident and he was incarcerated for manslaughter, though the two were not necessarily related. The newspaper articles were somewhat vague, but she had pieced together that this was the man who had lived here before the previous owners, long before she had even picked up working in real estate.

Babbling and making excuses, Sally assured Natalie that she would have disclosed such information if she had known and promised that had not been the case until now. Natalie believed her—there was a subtle melody of desperation riding along in the Realtor’s voice.

Just as she was about to hang up, eager to conduct her own research into the matter, Sally interrupted Natalie and surprised her deeply. The fearful tone in her voice made more sense when she offered her to contact a psychic she knew.

Natalie politely declined the offer, telling Sally that she didn’t believe in such things. She assured her Realtor that there was nothing to worry about and thanked her for her candor before hanging up.

She knew now again she couldn’t share anything of what she was experiencing.

This was not knowledge that you share.

Still, the light refused to return. In that time, Natalie found out that the mysterious incarcerated owner had died in a correctional facility over twenty years ago. She stopped investigating this matter—for dead men tell no tales.

Right when she had accepted that the light would never return again, she awoke to it. The night hung deep with its darkness draping over everything, and the bright blue light created a sharp contrast in her bedroom.

Losing no time, Natalie climbed out of bed and approached it.

Her heart pounded like a giant drum, causing her whole body to thrum. The throbbing extended all the way into her digits, which she was acutely aware of as she reached out and touched the closet door.

It opened by itself before her fingertips ever reached it, but she embraced it and clutched the edge of the door with growing determination. She had to know what awaited her on the other side.

She pulled it open.

With the closet door opened wide, the whole bedroom was bathed in the bright light, as was she.

But all Natalie had eyes for was the world beyond this portal. It looked nothing like Earth. Plants with jagged leaves that looked as sharp as razors and with bright blue lights shining from their stems, casting the eerie blue glow that emanated and engulfed her. Rock formations that curved into looming stone spirals. And that silhouette of a figure again. Mere steps away.

Limbs far too long to look natural. Too freakish to be human. It turned and stared back at her through pitch-black eyes. It tilted its long and angular head and studied Natalie. She studied it back.

She stepped through the closet and into this world.

The closet door slammed shut behind her and Natalie was never seen again.

—Submitted by Wratts

#spoospasu #spookyspaghettisundae #horror #short story #writing #my writing #literature #spooky #fiction #submission #Lovecraftian #occult #alien #strange #otherworld #light #dimension #time and space #chthonian #obsession #schizophrenia #madness #insanity #drugs #closet #other world #sleep paralysis #hallucination #perception

[ncmagroup]

by May Busch

Would you like to get noticed by senior management? In a good way, of course.

The kind of “getting noticed” that leads to being considered for exciting projects, gaining greater respect from your colleagues, and having opportunities to move up to the next level at work.

These days, you have to go beyond the obvious to get noticed. It no longer works to rely on the quality of your work, your dedication or even being a “good citizen”. Frankly, all of that is expected.

The question is, what does it take to get noticed by senior management?

What It Takes to Get Noticed

The good news is you don’t have to jump up and down or be loud and flamboyant if that’s out of character.

Instead, it’s about doubling down on what’s in your character. Tapping into the true you, including the parts you keep hidden because you’re afraid what others might think. (Spoiler alert: these aspects that don’t conform to the norm may be exactly what gets you noticed…in the right way!)

3 Simple Ways to Show Who You Really Are

The even better news is there are some simple things you can do every day or every week to show who you really are.

What I like about these is they don’t take much effort. In fact, they’ll probably save you effort because you won’t need to “hide” or “shave off” parts of yourself, both of which take up energy.

1. What You Wear

Your clothing, hair, makeup, and accessories are some of the easiest ways to show others who you really are. And yet, most of us dress in a way that conforms to the dress code of the office.

As they say, you have to look the part. The interesting thing is that beyond the formal dress code (as in “no T-shirts, tank tops, shorts, etc.”), there’s the even more powerful informal dress code.

For example, in investment banks, no one wears brown. It’s not written down anywhere, but it’s no brown shoes, no brown suits, no brown belts. I have no idea why that’s the case, but if you wear brown, it just shouts out, “you’re not one of us”.

One of my coaching clients discovered this only after buying a pair of handmade Italian shoes – you guessed it, they were brown – and getting grief from several colleagues the first day he wore them.

He decided to stop wearing the brown shoes (it was too big a “taboo” that distracted senior people from seeing his capabilities) and chose other ways to express his personality through his choice of yellow eyeglass frames and unconventional ties.

He has since become one of the most highly regarded directors at the firm and known for the creative angle he brings to solving even the most complex problems.

What you wear gives out messages about who you are and what you bring. So know where to show your personality in your clothing and accessory choices and know what’s going “too far” for others to be comfortable. I find the comfort zone for most organizations is to dress 10-20% different from others.

What does your choice of clothing say about you? And if you’re 100% conforming to the norm and not happy with it, what’s the 10-20% shift you could make to express yourself and help people notice you for who you really are?

2. What You Say

Another way to show your true self is in what you say and how you say it. When you speak, you’re expressing your thoughts, intentions, assumptions, and beliefs.

The key is being aware of what you say and how you’re coming across. Then you can determine whether that’s an accurate representation of who you are and what you want to be noticed for.

One of my colleagues was a constant complainer. If it wasn’t about the company policies, it was about our boss or other colleagues, and the weather took its share of criticism as well. It turned out she was completely unaware of how she was coming across.

Once someone pointed out her complaining tendency, she told us what a tough time she was going through personally, caring for a family member who was ill and being the primary breadwinner for the family now that her husband had lost his job.

Once she was aware, she was able to change how she was speaking and that helped her get noticed in a much better way.

In your case, perhaps it’s speaking in a way that’s uplifting and positive. Or inspiring people around you to be their best. Or maybe you’re the person people come to for your calm, measured advice. Or perhaps you’re in your element when you help people brainstorm a new idea.

Get in touch with the words, phrases, and tone of voice you tend to use, and what you say when you’re at your best. Then make conscious choices about how you can harness what comes naturally to you.

What do you tend to say and how do you say it? To what extent is your talk representing the most awesome aspects of you?

3. What You (Consistently) Do

Actions speak louder than words, so it’s only fitting that one of the ways to get the right people to notice you is through your actions.

Most of us are basically good people who mean well. But it���s easy to get caught up in our own lives and forget to think about others. That’s why the key to nailing “what you do” is being aware of opportunities where you can lend a hand or step in to help someone else.

It can be small things, like giving a quiet colleague a chance to speak up at a meeting by asking their opinion, and then supporting them by building on their point. Or publicly thanking your support team for their contributions to the event you’ve just hosted.

What you do is especially important in situations where it takes courage to step up and take action.

For example, the moment when basketball coach Maurice Cheeks came to the rescue of 13-year old Natalie Gilbert. Natalie forgot the words to the National Anthem she was performing in front of 20,000 fans at the start of one of the most important games of Cheeks’ career.

Cheeks was not a good singer, but he recognized a young girl being humiliated on stage and went to help. He walked up to her, gave her the next line, started singing along with her and inspired the entire stadium to sing together.

He was the only one out of 20,000 people who took action and you can be sure his management (and fans) noticed. As his boss said, “(T)hat’s who he is. He’s a guy that has high character. I’m lucky that I have him.”

Just remember that when you take action and put your true self out there, it only works if you do it without expecting something in return. You don’t want to make it transactional because people see right through that.

These kinds of “leadership moments” are what show your true character. And that’s worth noticing.

What can you do to be aware of opportunities to lend a hand and have the presence of mind to step up and act?

Get Noticed for the Real You

In a world where there’s not enough time to do everything we want to do, it’s helpful to focus on and leverage who you really are and what comes naturally to you.

To get noticed by senior management, the surest strategy is to double down on being yourself – your whole self, which is also your best self.

The beauty is it takes less effort and makes a bigger impact when you bring the real you to work. So let the true you show up in what you wear, what you say and what you do. That’s what gets you noticed for the right reasons.

What one simple thing can you do this week to show your true self?

    Go to our website:   www.ncmalliance.com

How to Get Noticed at Work for the Right Reasons by May Busch Would you like to get noticed by senior management? In a good way, of course.

[universallylauren]

Squalls of Driving Rain - a short story

Noah knew that the sea couldn’t be tamed, for she was a deadly force to be reckoned with. On the other hand, people assume that the sea is a beautiful force of nature.  All they seem to envision is the tingling sensation of frosty ice cream and bubble-gum candyfloss in the warmth of July. Some only view the Seaside as a paradise while others view it as a nightmare that is impossible to escape. 

Noah admired the wrath of the storm. It made him feel like a god. Watching from behind a double-glazed window, as the entire darkened world beneath him was ripped apart, he felt cosy and warm in his solitude. This had proved itself to be the worst storm of the winter.  As the waves had raised above the street level, a gigantic body of water exploded against the low sea wall only to drench the cars that were unwisely parked along the seafront. The heavy winter tarpaulins that had protected the roundabouts and the switchback rides were flapping wildly in the wind, periodically inflating into monstrous tethered balloons.

The whole fairground was a huge animal; he was restless and his patience was wearing thin.  Noah saw the metal framed canopy from a shop roll along the road only to smash into the shuttered front of another business. He watched a rolling dustbin follow the same route, which had ricocheted off a parked vehicle. The dustbin then managed to wedge itself under the handrail on the opposite side of the road. The airborne litter made the wind a visible and tangible force. Sandblasting the shops and the empty booths, the wind breathed life and malice into every unsecured object it encountered.

Turning from the window, he looked at the white telephone on the old table by the door, standing out in the gloom of the darkened room. Noah found it incredibly strange that Natalie hadn’t bothered to call. Maybe she was unaware?  Maybe it was as calm as the ocean on a summer’s day in London.  They hadn’t reported anything on the news. He quickly glanced at his watch – it was nearly midnight. He could phone her himself and tell her that he was alright. He liked reassuring her; he liked to believe that he was a modern-day Superman who had coped with far worse on the Caribbean run. This heroic act would have only been spoiled if he was forced to take initiative. Natalie was the one who should be phoning him, she should be concerned, not the other way around.

A flash of lightning lit up the room for a fraction of a second. This cast a huge and grotesque shadow of his stooping figure. The shadow was reaching out with one hand to pick up the receiver - a photograph of his personal thoughts. He counted five seconds before the thunder deafened his hearing and pounded his stomach. Danger wasn’t much more than a mile away, no wonder it was ear-splitting. The lightning bolt seemed to release a tension of some kind and a deluge of rain struck the window behind him. Stiffly walking across the room, Noah began to mentally curse his own chronic pain. Then, he picked up the receiver and realised that there was no dialing tone. The lines were damaged by the ferocity of the storm. He thought that it was hardly surprising. That explained why she hadn’t called him. He glanced at the mantelpiece, noticing that the luminous numbers on his digital clock had gone dark. He began to worry. That could mean that the electricity lines were down as well. He carefully clicked the light switch by the door to check. The room still remained in complete darkness.

Slumping into his favourite chair, he let his mind drift back in time. Electric storms always made him think of other hurricanes, as though the flashes of energy could cut through the fabric of time and make them all coalesce into one. He remembered the night Natalie’s mother left him twenty-two years ago; there had been a storm just like this. Thunder, lightning, high winds, torrential rain—the whole lot. With so much noise and drama, he hadn’t expected her to hear him come in at all; she was still wide awake. She waited until he sat down to take off his shoes—he remembered feeling guilty. Stains on the carpet had been left from the mark of his boots. “I’ve had enough, Noah” was all she said.

Nothing else needed to be said as he knew exactly what she meant. He argued with her, but his heart simply wasn’t in it.

“I have to go away, Lucy.”

Inevitably, there was no point in trying to surface his opinion. There was too much wrong with their relationship. The times when he was at sea wasn’t the problem; rather it was the times when he wasn’t at sea that everything became a disaster. Noah wondered vaguely what had happened to her. He wondered where she was now. Natalie knew of course, but they had an unwritten agreement that they would never talk about her. Obviously, the terms of this agreement were good as it meant that they never ended up bad-mouthing one another, especially to their daughter as an excuse to pry into one another’s business. Twenty-four years of marriage had been wiped out like a lover’s message scrawled in the sand below the high tide mark.

His thoughts darted back through another great block of time.  

Suddenly, he was standing with his father just inside the open gateway of a giant warehouse on the Plymouth docks. It was the middle of the day and outside a thunderstorm made its anger quite distinct. All work on the quayside had stopped. Men were now sheltering. Now the huge container vessels were bobbing up and down like great pistons in slow motion, straining at their moorings to be free and take their chances in the swelling rain-blasted Atlantic. It was this moment when Noah became aware of how merciless and unconquerable the sea was.

“Good thing we’re not out at sea today, Noah,” his father shouted over the noise of the rain on the metal roof, “the witches might get us!”

It was part of their private language, a reference back to some foolish part of their childhood that neither of them could remember. Noah, at that moment,  being out at sea on a day like that seemed like the most wonderful and romantic thing a man could possibly do. “I’m not afraid of the witches,” Noah had answered. “I want to go to sea—the same as you, Dad.”

He now wondered how his life would have changed if he had never stood there with his father watching the storm and yet he had endured his merchant seaman career for all those years ago. What was it about the life that had appealed to him, he wondered? Why had he kept coming back and signing up for more? It wasn’t the work itself, or the money. He could have worked fewer hours on a building site and put less physical effort into it. Realising the illusion of purpose that the sea gave to him was liberating, you were always going somewhere. It didn’t occur to you that it was the same place you had been to a dozen times before: the same dockside bars, the same card games, and the same cells to sober up in.

Massive lightning bolts out at sea, directly in front of the window, dazzled him for a moment. The dim shapes in the room soon vanished. Almost instantly, an explosion of thunder left his ears ringing. It’s getting nearer, he thought irrationally. The harshness of this thought brought a rush of sadness and self-pity. All he had was a dilapidated retirement flat on the seventh floor of a concrete block in a South Coast resort, the company of a few clapped-out drinking companions and a weekly phone call from a daughter that he didn’t really know anymore. He could imagine her mother nagging her to ring, “Natalie, have you phoned your father yet? You promised you’d do it every week.”

What did he really mean to Natalie now, he wondered? He was probably an embarrassment to be kept secret from her high-class boyfriend and all those smart London media people she socialised with. Noah was just a weekly duty call. That was what he had to show for a lifetime of hard work, bad decisions and the pointless pursuit of some kind of daft schoolboy dream of a life on the ocean waves. Maybe that was it, he thought. Maybe he was just a boy who had never grown up - an adult version of Peter Pan. 

____________________________________________________________________

 The best time of his life had been when Natalie was a little girl.  He’d only gone out to sea twice in the first eight years of her life. He closed his eyes and they were back together in his old battered Ford, turning left from the road to Margate onto the track through the woods that opened out into the campsite at the end of the tunnel of trees.

“We’re going into the tunnel of trees now, Natalie. Cuddle up tight so the witches can’t get you.” She would lean over and hug him and bury her face in his chest as the sun vanished and the mighty trees bent over to clutch at the lurching vehicle.  “We’re through the tunnel now,” he would tell her as they re-emerged into the sunlight and the higgledy-piggeldy lines of caravans and ridge-tents.

“I’m okay,” she would shout while releasing her grip and smiling secretly, “the witches didn’t get me!” It was their own private game, their excuse for the cuddle that they both craved but neither felt confident enough to ask directly.

Another thunderbolt broke his train of thought.

He moved closer to the window and looked down. He imagined himself outside, crossing the street towards the sea-wall, clambering up the steps and over it, the sudden shock of the icy water, then swimming out to sea to meet the witches. They had been waiting there for such a long time. Why should he make them wait any longer?

The rain outside turned the window-scene into a smeared impressionist painting. He could almost see the little figure, which was himself, rising and falling with the mighty waves and then vanishing without trace beneath them, a life that was, itself, scrawled on the sand below the high-tide line. No more of the aches and pains and indignities of growing old. A poker player of his experience must surely know when to fold. The half imagined, half-seen things beyond the window held him in motionless attention. In his mind's eye, he was watching the bleak final scene of his life.

He became aware of a sound much closer than the noises of the storm. He lifted his head, suddenly alert. Somebody was knocking at the door of his flat.

“Who’s there?”

“Dad, it’s me.”

“Natalie?” He said in a rather confused yet happy voice. He hurried to the door as quickly as he could, swinging it open with all of his strength.

“I couldn’t get through on the phone,” she sobbed.

“Have you driven all the way from London in that storm? There wasn’t any need. I’m fine…”

She stepped back and looked up at him in bewilderment. She felt perplexed. The confusion covered her like a blanket.

“You? Of course, you’re fine. I’m the one who isn’t fine.” She stifled a sob.” I had nowhere else to go.” She stared into his eyes and he saw the face of an upset ten-year-old girl. He gently put his arm around her shoulders.

“Come, Natalie," he said in a soft tone, trying to reassure her. “Get your coat off and sit down. I’ll see if the electric still works and make us a cup of tea." He hugged her and she buried her face in his chest.

"No witches here," he assured her with a gentle smile painted across his face. Outside the lightning flashed one more time, but this time it was further away. The calm after the storm had finally arrived.

#writers on tumblr #short story

[manam2x5]

Emerging Designer: A Leather Love Affair With MANAM Ryan Philemon     Nov. 21, 2016 This interview is a part of LOOKCASTer’s Emerging Designer series. ALLURING BOXERS ADORNED IN IMMACULATELY CONSTRUCTED LEATHER GARMENTS FLOOD THE WAREHOUSE GYM. THEIR BODIES POWERFUL AND FOCUS SHARP,  THEY SLIP THEIR HANDS INTO THE PADDED WHITE GLOVES… Emerging Designer Natalie Yaru MANAM “MANAM JUXTAPOSES THE SOFT, COMFORT OF KNIT FABRICS AND LOUNGE-WEAR WITH THE TOUGH, MADE-TO-LAST NATURE OF LEATHER GOODS.  I AIM TO MAKE BOTH THE SOFT AND THE TOUGH INTO SOMETHING FUNCTIONAL, PRACTICAL, AND EXCITING TO WEAR!” Supple and strong, leather is the replica of femininity in fabric form. Using a combination of delicate knit fabrics and ever-lasting leather, MANAM’s latest collection— “Skin and Stone”, strives to amend society’s preconceptions on what it means to be a woman. What was once viewed as meek and delicate, is now fiery and strong. Natalie Yaru, the founder of MANAM, sets out to redefine the female stereotype, communicating a message of female empowerment in her most recent campaign. We sat down with the emerging designer to go behind the scenes of her collection, the campaign and the business of creativity. What is MANAM? My family (last) name is Romanian.  “Mana” is the Romanian word for hand.  I literally dreamed up this palindrome during an afternoon nap and found it perfectly fit the mold in my search for a name.  MANAM is “mana” spelled backward and forwards, symbolizing that any way that you look at my company, the hand of the artists and craftsman involved will be highlighted. What makes your brand unique? MANAM juxtaposes the soft, comfort of knit fabrics and loungewear with the tough, made-to-last nature of leather goods.  I aim to make both the soft and the tough into something functional, practical, and exciting to wear!  And MANAM will always remain with domestic production to support American industry and economy. What has been the most difficult aspect of being an emerging designer and building your own brand? Money.  I have been a bartender for private parties, Wolfgang Puck, and various restaurants. I also tried sales design for Closet World.  It is so hard to earn enough, and have time/energy left to “do” MANAM.  It has also been a huge challenge to try and trust other professionals to work with. It is very sad that everyone is hell-bent on looking out for themselves (myself included) because we’ve all been screwed over in various efforts to do collaborative business. How did you get into leatherworking? I fell in love with leather and the craft behind it while taking a shoe design class at Woodbury during my final year there.  With a few months of leather-working experience under my belt, I created my senior collection, entitled “Stratosveil Inteligenta”, diving deep into leather construction and technique. emerging-designer-manam-leather-heels I got so into these puppies that I spent most of the semester on them, and left myself with one week to make two more pairs.  My instructor was mad that I came to final critique with about 1.5 pairs done.  But I think he was at least impressed with this one. The following is a link to a small article with editorial shots of the original collection: https://issuu.com/thelafashion/docs/september_2013_issue_2/52 Who is your ideal customer? Who is MANAM made for? A woman (or man, someday soon) who works hard to have a good life.  She enjoys what she does even though it can be rough.  She is smart, and conscious consumer who seeks out ways to practice “better” consumerism. What was the inspiration behind the Skin and Stone collection? The “Stratosveil Inteligenta” collection was well received, so I thought it fitting to translate those designs from runway into ready-to-wear.  From there MANAM’s launch collection, “Skin & Stone”, came to life. emerging designer MANAM Your collection’s campaign photography is amazing. You communicated a powerful message around women’s empowerment in such a cool way. Tell me about the process. I came up with the idea when I started boxing in April 2015.  I bought my first pair of gloves and some other gear, and I kept noticing all the use of leather.  Plus, I dig the look of a boxing shoe/boot.  I love the classic, yet powerful appeal about the sport.  And I found boxing so stimulating to train in because of the mixed use of mind and body; both equally responsible for success at the sport. So, I had the concept, wardrobe, and boxing props all squared.  And the gym I was boxing at in Orange County was kind enough to let me shoot there, free of charge.  The rest was basically a freaking miracle!  I had a photographer and videographer lined up; sadly, I wasn’t all that confident that working with them would cut it.  No models had responded.  THEN, via my craigslist ad for hair and make-up, someone from LA reached out… she literally brought the whole team down to Orange County for me the very next day.  I.e. two models, hair, make up, photographer, AND videographer!!!  I am so, so incredibly lucky to say the least. What advice would you give other designers and makers who are trying to build or grow a brand? I would say “hang in there/never give up” but they most likely already have that frame of mind.  Though, we all need reminding sometimes, as this was me recently: It is OK to need encouragement from others at times, but at the end of the day you have to be your own #1 fan… while being humble. But here is the big one!  STICK TO YOUR GUNS!!!  You painted a picture in your mind of what you wanted to create.  Everyone, and their mother, AND your own mother will have input to give.  They’ll tell you how they think you should be doing it.  To which you should do your best to [calmly] respond, “Have you tried doing what I am doing?” Only you truly know what your heart is striving to create, and whether you feel like explaining the long version to people or just givin’ em the old elevator speech, don’t ever forget why YOU started, and the values YOU want to stand for.  And with that said, have so much patience because it takes time, but it will be worth it.

http://www.lookcast.com/blog/2016/11/22/emerging-designer-manam/

#empoweringwomen #manam fashion #boxing #tko #lookcaster