#I ended up scribbling too much for it to show but he has very small very sharp teeth. and if he stuck out his tongue he would have more :-)

[nicksolemnlyswears]

THE BEAR AND THE BEE HIVE

summary: in which carmy falls for the sweet café owner that supplies him with endless americanos

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

word count: 14.4k

warning: it's a little bit of a slow burn. sorry. i'm a sucker for it and i feel like carmy is a slow burn kinda guy. 18 +, cursing, smut, p in v, oral (m. receiving), fingering, they use protection guys! i deserve a pat in the back. nothing too wild. oh, and very brief mention of suicide.

a/n: i started writing this way back in october and then it was nearly done and i abandoned it. well i finally got around to completing it tonight!

this is my first time ever writing for carmy and i tried my best writing this. i love carmy and the show but i didn’t expect it to be hard to write him as a character. i wanted to get him right so i took my time with it and didn’t rush it. hopefully you guys like my carmy. enjoy!

i think i've had this stored in my drafts for like 4 months and it's time for me to set it free.

The cigarettes were not enough anymore. No matter how many smoke breaks Carmy took, he still felt the edge on his shoulders. A fear laced with anxiety that overtook him.

After deciding that blowing through yet another wall in his restaurant was the way to go, Carmy took a break. He needed it before he used the sledgehammer to destroy the restaurant in its entirety, along with his dream.

He remembers a coffee shop only a block away from The Bear and thinks he could use a coffee right about now. Maybe the mixture of caffeine and nicotine will be able to relax his shoulders, if only for an hour.

As soon as he opens the door, the smell of ground coffee beans greets him. He looks around, taking in the cozy ambiance the decorative wood brings to the place and the splashes of warm yellow that lighten it up.

Then he sees you, and his focus shifts entirely. His eyes only see you.

"Hi, welcome to Bee Hive!" You chirp with a small smile.

Carmy freezes, forgetting why he's there in the first place. He slowly steps up to the register, where you patiently wait for him. It's just after the lunch rush, so you're in no hurry.

He finds he's acting like a teenager who has just seen a pretty girl. Only he's not a teenager, and you're more than a pretty girl.

"What can I get for you today?" You ask, not noticing the effect you've had on him. You take a sharpie out of your yellow apron, preparing to scribble down his order in a cup.

Carmy has perfected the empty on the outside but screaming on the inside face. Strangers don't tend to know he's almost always losing his shit.

"I-I don't…sorry," Carmy looks at you briefly before diverting his eyes. He apologizes in a flurry, looking for an excuse for his weird behavior, "Uh, it's my first time here. What do you recommend?"

"It's not a problem," you say softly as if to calm him, "I'm a simple girl. I love the latte, but if you're looking for something stronger, the americano is one of the favorites."

Carmy nods as you ramble about the drinks, where the coffee beans come from, and the different notes of each blend. He hangs onto every word that slips from your lips. The static in his brain clearing up for the first time in hours.

It ends too soon as you realize you're talking too much and probably overwhelmed him. You sheepishly smile at him and trail off, but he continues to stare, waiting for you to continue.

"I'll take the Americano," Carmy nods, giving you a tight-lipped smile. Although he had been hanging to every one of your words, he was too focused on the shape of your lips and the sweet tone of your voice.

"Good choice," you nod, grabbing a cup from the tray beside you, "What's your name?"

Carmy looks up, slightly alarmed, as if you've asked for his social security number. "What?" He thinks you'll be forward and ask for his number next, seemingly forgetting how coffee orders work.

"Your name? For the order?" You explain, trying to ease his worries. He's odd, but in an endearing way. You believe this is his first time here because you're confident you would've remembered him.

"Fuck, right, yeah," he nervously says, pinching the bridge of his nose, "My name's Carmen."

"Your Americano will be right out, Carmen," you tell him, capping your sharpie back up.

Carmy quickly pays and stands to the side to wait for his order. He forces himself to not look at you or in your direction as you take other customers' orders. He just knows he's made a fool of himself already. Not that it matters. Why would it matter? He's there for the coffee. Nothing else, no one else.

As he walks out of Bee Hive, he sips his coffee. His shoulders instantly drop, and his fear-induced anxiety starts to dissipate for the moment. He's unsure if the effect is because of the caffeine or the thoughts of your pretty smile.

Visiting your coffee shop becomes routine for Carmy. Whenever things at The Bear become crazy -or he starts to lose his fuckin' mind- he makes his way to Bee Hive with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

For twenty minutes, he's free of Richie's constant hounding, Sugar's struggles with the permits and scheduling, and Sydney's disappointment because the menu is still extremely underway.

Each time he's stopped by, you've been there to greet him, and each time, you've left a little heart by Carmen's name, which makes his heart race in a peculiar way. His hands would touch his chest to check if it was heartburn, but it didn't feel like that. It's not anxiety either cause he knows pretty well how that feels.

All he knows is he hasn't done anything to deserve such a gesture. He's convinced himself you draw little hearts for everyone because he's not special.

One Thursday afternoon, Carmy realizes he doesn't know your name. He looks for a name tag, but you're not wearing one on your yellow apron. He should know your name if you insist on making small talk despite his short answers.

He can't help it. He gets too in his head to answer like a normal person, so his answers come out choppy and dry.

"Alright, Carmen, your order will be right out," you say, handing his cup to one of the baristas. You always hold out and ask him what he wants to order. He has the right to change his mind anytime, but for now, he's stuck with the americano, which he drowns in sugar.

As curiosity eats at him, he gathers the courage to ask. "Thanks. Hey, uh, I've-I’ve never gotten your name…” Carmy says, cursing at himself for not formulating the question correctly. His hand comes up to grip his hair instinctually.

Your smile widens when he asks your name. The silly crush you've developed for your customer fluttering to life. It's just a crush over a stranger, nothing to write home about.

You tell him your name but follow it with "-call me Honey. Everyone knows me by that name. I'm sure if you ask my friends about me with my real name, you'll throw them for a loop."

You're rambling, hoping he doesn't think calling you by your nickname is weird. Then again, how can he judge when he has a sister people call 'Sugar' and he and his siblings also don the nickname 'Bear.'

"Honey." Carmy repeats your nickname, smiling as he finds it fitting. "In that case, call me Carmy."

"Nice to properly meet you, Carmy," you say, grinning.

Like all the days before, Carmy steps aside and waits for his coffee. He doesn't let himself continue the conversation or ask more about you even if it’s everything he wants to do.

It's rare for Carmy to be in a good mood, and whenever it happens, it doesn't tend to last. His goal of opening a restaurant in 12 weeks makes it impossible for him to relax and enjoy the ride. To prolong this unusual feeling, Carmy stops by Bee Hive on his way to The Bear.

"Have you made your boss angry, Honey?" He asks as he pulls out his wallet to pay. He ordered the americano as he always does.

"No…why do you ask?" You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

"Uh, 'cause you-you're always here. Do you not take days off? Not that I'm complaining. I-I like seeing you here." Carmy's words get quieter as he speaks, red creeping up his neck. So much for trying to make a joke.

You look around the room and tell him, "Imma let you in on a little secret."

Carmy follows your hand, waving him to get closer. The smell of cigarettes invades your senses as you get close to him. You'd never admit that the mix of his cigarettes and your coffee is addicting. As both lean over the counter, you whisper, "I'm the boss. I can't run away even if I wanted to."

"You own the coffee shop," Carmy pans in shock.

Carmy is more than surprised at your words. Especially now that he knows how expensive it is to open a business. You can't be a day over 25 and own a successful coffee place. There is hope, after all.

"I do," you nod, standing straight once more.

A couple of years ago, you had inherited a hefty amount of money from an estranged aunt. Fresh out of college and with no real plan, you thought it would be a good moment to follow your dream and open the cozy café.

"How do you do it?" Carmy asks, amazed at the girl smiling at him. "I don't know if you know, but, um, I-I'm opening the restaurant around the block. Used to be The Beef?" He finishes grimly as he points to his side of the block.

"Oh, yeah. The guys who worked there helped me move some equipment when I first opened two years ago," you reveal, "Tell you what, whenever you have a break, come around. I'll give you a free americano and tell you all about it. Neighbor to neighbor."

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Carmy agrees. "I'll take you up on that."

Weeks go by, and Carmy seemingly forgets about Bee Hive and your pending conversation. You try not to overthink about his absence or how you might've scared him away. He's probably just busy remodeling his restaurant. You know better than anyone how much time that takes.

Still, his presence has become part of your routine, and you can't help but look at the door each time the bell rings. You expect to see him walking up to the counter, the remnants of cigarette smoke coming out his nose as he breathes.

You're pretty close to your assumption because Carmy has been dealing with the fire suppression test. They didn't fail the test once but twice, and if they didn't pass it on the third try, their plan to open the restaurant in 12 weeks goes out the window. Fak has tried everything, and nothing works.

He'd sent Richie once on a coffee run, but the fuckin' idiot went to the nearest Starbucks. Carmy had been looking forward to tasting your coffee and seeing his name in the cup with the little heart because he's 100% sure he's the only Carmen you know. It's not a common name in these parts of town.

One very early morning, he's walking to work, and as he passes Bee Hive, he sees you inside, wiping tables down before you open at 6:30.

Impulsively, he knocks on the glass, not giving himself the time to overthink things. You turn to look at the window and see him standing outside, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his familiar plaid jacket to protect himself from the chilly March air.

"Hey stranger," you greet him, opening the door and inviting him in.

"Hi," he breathes out, staring at you, "you're here early," he tries to casually mention.

You roll your eyes dramatically and say, "It's a downside of the job. Did you know people want coffee at the crack of dawn?"

You try acting as nonchalant as possible. It's not like you missed seeing one of your favorite customers, his beautiful blue eyes, or the way he rocks a simple white t-shirt.

"I had no idea," Carmy smiles, bringing his tattooed hand up to his lips, "I, uh, usually drink mine at night." That much is true. On those sleepless nights when insomnia takes over him, the best remedy is coffee.

"Would you make an exception and join me for a morning coffee at the crack ass of dawn?" Anxiously, you play with the rings on your fingers. It feels like you're asking the guy on a date when it's just a friendly coffee.

"As long as you have some business advice to spare?" Carmy responds shakily. He briefly looks down the street to glimpse at his restaurant. It's too early for anyone to be there yet.

"Deal."

Throwing the towel over your shoulder, you make your way behind the counter. Carmy attempts to make small talk with you as you prepare both drinks.

This is the first time he's watching you in action since you tend to stick to the cash register when he's around. It's not a coincidence. After the first time he came to Bee Hive, you wanted to see more of him, so you stationed yourself at the register where you'd be sure to see him, and he'd see you.

"Here you go." You place his coffee mug on the table along with yours before disappearing momentarily and returning with an orange soufflé coffee cake. You're pulling all the stops for Carmy to leave a good impression.

Carmy thanks you and sips his coffee, "Wow, this is fire!" He expected to taste an americano, but what you prepared was entirely different. He can make out hints of hazelnut and caramel in the coffee.

"Thanks. I took the liberty of changing your order. You can always come back to the americano, though…" you shrug shyly, looking at him over the rim of your mug.

"I-I appreciate it. Thanks." Carmy throws you a nervous grin. He gestures with his tattooed hand to dig into the cake you brought out. He shouldn't be the only one eating.

You and Carmy share the cake as you talk about yourselves and the crazy businesses you own. Somehow, talking to you comes easy to him. He's still nervous and scared to fuck things up, but the warm coffee and your even warmer smile ease him into it.

"How do you do it? This place is always packed, and you seem like you run a tight ship," Carmy wonders, playing with the fork. The cake is long gone, although the notes of orange remain on his tongue. Would you taste the same?

"It wasn't without mistakes. I had to learn a lot from my fuck ups and listen to my team because although I'm the owner, they are the ones doing most of the work. Whenever there's a flaw, they are the first to know," you speak softly, afraid of ruining the calm ambiance you've set up, twirling the small amount of coffee left in your mug.

It's your favorite part of morning coffee. When you have just the smallest bit of coffee left, and you know you'll never drink it because it's cold, but it gives you an excuse to remain where you are.

"So, all I gotta do is listen?" It's funny you say that because Carmy listens, but his friend's voices get muddled somewhere along the way. As much as he tries to focus on them, they merge together and form a cacophony in his head.

"A lot of listening and a lot of experimentation. I've been open for two years, and it's only been in the last six months that I can confidently tell you we found our groove," you admit with a grimace.

Bee Hive is your baby, but bringing it to life was everything but easy. You messed up so many times, costing you so much money. You didn't know shit about owning a business or building one from the ground up. Doing research and putting your pride aside to ask for help got you through it.

"I've only been doing this for, like, less than a fuckin' year, and I already want to pull my hair out," Carmy admits with a pitiful laugh.

"I'm sorry I can't tell you it gets better soon," you say apologetically, reaching for his hand that rests on the table.

Carmy freezes, glancing at your hand on top of his. He hasn't got a clue what to fucking do with the display of affection. Was it a display of affection? He doesn't fucking know. "It's, uh, it's, uh, it's alright. As-as long as you give me coffee, I think I can make it through," Carmen furrows his eyebrows as he stutters through the sentence.

"I can't wait to see what the award-winning chef does," you say, bringing your hand back to your lap, none the wiser to Carmy's internal struggle.

He should've done something to keep your hand on his. Place his other hand on yours or fucking turn his hand around to grasp it. He liked feeling your warm skin on his. It hasn't been a minute since you pulled away, and he's craving it already. It's ridiculous. Is he really that touch-starved that he's seeking affection from a near stranger?

He coughs and darts his eyes between the wooden table top and you, "Fuck. You-you know about that?"

"I might've done some research after finding out you're opening the restaurant. I got curious. I'm sorry." Apologizing is your default thing to do. Messing things up is your area of expertise. You really didn't think he'd mind you mentioning it.

"No, no, no, uh, you don't have to apologize. You just caught me off guard," Carmy shakes his head, reassuring both of you.

"Okay, good," you lightly smile at him, averting your eyes when your gazes meet.

If there's a time for you to make a move, it's now. Taking a shaky breath, you speak up, "I was wondering if you'd ever like to-."

A loud knock on the glass door interrupts you. You and Carmy jump and look towards the source of the noise. It's one of your regular clients, waving at you to open up. Looking at your watch, you see it's 6:30 already.

"Shit. I'm-I'm sorry I took so much of your time," Carmy apologizes, picking up his mug and the plate to put away.

You grab his wrist to make him stop in his tracks, "Relax. I enjoyed talking to you. Maybe we can do it again soon?"

Carmy nods wide-eyed. He likes the idea just as much as you do. You take away the mug and plate with a soft 'okay.' He then follows you to the door as you unlock it and turn the sign to 'open.'

"I, um, gotta go work on the menu. I'll probably be back later for another coffee?" Carmen asks you as if he's asking for permission, which you find adorable.

"I'll be behind the register," you say, watching him walk away. He turns his head back for a moment, and you catch the smile gracing his lips as yours turns to mimic him.

"Oh, he's cute," your customer, an older lady, says, watching him go along with you. "It's about time you got a boyfriend."

"Mrs. O'Hara, here for your tea?" You ask her, ignoring the comment about your love life. That woman will set you up with anyone. She does love her tea, though, and expects you to provide it on time.

It's slow, but Carmen warms up to you. Instead of grabbing his coffee to go, he now drinks it at the café, coincidentally around the same time you take your break.

He's been hesitantly opening up. It's not like he's telling you about how fucked up his family is or how his brother committed suicide. More often, it's about the restaurant and his work as a chef, the struggles of getting every permit they need on a tight schedule since they are supposed to open in about four weeks now, or the occasional childhood memory. It's everything you need to know at this stage.

You love listening to Carmy talk, even if you have to coax it out of him sometimes. He's passionate about the restaurant despite all the stress that comes from it, and he adores the people he works with. He's shy but not in a dorky way because he's actually fascinating. Before meeting him, you never knew that collecting denim was a thing.

The smell of cigarettes that clings to him is also tightly laced with his character. When you step outside to get some sun and the scent of someone smoking hits you, your heart instantly speeds up, hoping it's him coming for his daily americano, or to come swoop you away into a sunset.

"-I fell on my ass in the middle of the street. I was freaking out, thinking I was gonna get run over by a car," you exclaim as you tell Carmy about the crazy Christmas you spent in New York last year.

"It's New York. You probably would have been run over," Carmy chuckles along with you. "There was this one time I was running late and-" His phone vibrating interrupts him.

"Sorry, it's just the fridge guy," he tells you with a furrow of his eyebrows. You notice he does that a lot when he's thinking deeply. Carmy silences it and looks back over to you.

"You should pick that up. A busted fridge is the last thing you need. Trust me. Been there, done that." You encourage him to take the call. The restaurant is more important than your story about how you bruised your coccyx in New York.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Carm! Call him back before you forget," you insist, grabbing his empty cup to trash it. You don't give him any other option, leaving him there to help your employees with a faulty machine.

He watches you closely, closer than ever before. He allows himself to watch how you frown at the machine and how your ringed fingers fumble with the knobs. His eyes keep trailing down involuntarily, and they take in how nicely your jeans hug your ass.

He goes into a spiral into these old pair of Levi jeans popular in the 90s and how they would fit nicely with the shape of your hips and legs. Carmy continues on the tangent, imagining himself peeling them off your body.

The phone vibrating in his hand snaps him out of it. Clearing his throat, he picks up the phone and walks outside. He waves at you through the window as he makes his way back to The Bear. Your frustration at the machine vanishes momentarily as you wave back, except the machine splatters, forcing you to redirect your attention. When you look outside again, he's gone.

Stakes are high at The Bear. There's less than four weeks until Friends and Family, and there is much to do. Marcus has returned from Copenhagen and is working on the desserts. Tina is doing her job as the new sous chef. Fak and Sweeps are helping out wherever they can. And Richie is being Richie, trying to be open but resisting change.

"I need coffee or a pop. Anything with caffeine," Sydney says, throwing her head back. She and Carmen have been working on the chaos menu for hours, and she keeps messing up. Carmy insists that it's okay that they'll adjust and get it right soon, but she's beginning to lose hope.

"Me too. I'd kill for an espresso," Natalie agrees, softly rubbing her hand over her growing bump.

"I thought you couldn't have caffeine cause of the baby," Richie mentions, remembering Tiff's time while pregnant.

"I don't need you to fuckin' tell me what I can or can't eat, Richie," Natalie yells, glaring at him. Although he's right, the doctor told her to limit her caffeine intake. Hard to do when she's up all night thinking about everything she needs to do for The Bear.

"Shit. I'm sorry for fucking caring," Richie screams back, lifting his hands up in defense.

"I can go to the coffee place down the block. Get everyone something," Carmy pipes up, looking forward to seeing you today.

Natalie is quick to shoot that idea down, "You can't. The fridge guy is coming in 20 minutes."

"Fuck, that's right," Carmy groans, digging his head in his hands. His fingers rake through his hair, messing up his curls. He wanted to see you and talk to you, even if it was for five short minutes.

"I'll go," Sydney sighs. She needs to leave the kitchen for more than five minutes, or she'll go crazy, "Just tell me what you guys want to order."

Natalie grumbles about getting decaf, Richie orders a plain black coffee, and Carmy asks for his americano. As Sydney leaves to ask Marcus, Carmy yells after her, "Please, go to Bee Hive. If you get Starbucks, I'm gonna fucking lose it."

Richie and Natalie exchange a look. Richie because he's confused, and Natalie because she knows something is happening with Carmy. He's never been picky over coffee. In fact, they have an old coffee machine in the office that now goes unused because he's always at that coffee shop.

"Sorry, I didn't get the fuckin' memo. Since when is Starbucks bad?" Richie frowns, looking to get a rise out of Carmy.

"I don't think it's about the coffee, cousin," Natalie responds, directing her gaze towards her brother, who is hunched over the counters, chopping vegetables.

"If it's not about the coffee, what is it about?" Richie questions, crossing his arms.

"Shut the fuck up, Sugar," Carmy grumbles, looking at his sister with a glare. He already knows where she's going. She tried to bring it up a couple of days ago after she walked by the coffee shop and saw him being friendly with you.

Natalie smiles and responds, "Carmy has a crush on the barista."

"That's ridiculous. I don't have a crush on her." Carmy shakes his head, avoiding Richie and Natalie's eyes on him. They always do this. They gang up on him if he shows even the slightest interest in a girl. They think they can help, but all they do is embarrass him.

"Come on, Bear. Why else would you go almost every day to get coffee?" Natalie asks, giving him a look.

"Because it's good fuckin' coffee. Jesus, it's not that deep." Carmy grabs the veggies he chopped and drops them into a container to use later.

"It's okay to admit you like a pretty girl, cousin! I'm excited for you! Makes you human and not a lonely hermit," Richie jokes, pushing on Carmy's buttons. "When was the last time you got laid?"

"I swear to God, Richie. Shut the fuck up," Carmy points at him angrily.

"No, I should go with Sydney and see who this girl is!" Richie says, walking out of the half-built kitchen.

Carmy follows him instantly, "You're not going fuckin' anywhere, fuckin' jagoff." He's turning red from anger, seeing Richie with his mocking smile. Natalie follows behind them, amused at the situation. It reminds her of the banters they used to get in with Mickey.

"Admit that you like her," Richie shrugs, giving him a choice.

"No, I won't," Carmy refuses. "You always do this shit."

"Then, I'm going," Richie nods, stepping towards the door.

"Fuck! Shit, alright. I like her, okay? Don't fucking go anywhere," Carmy yells, rubbing a hand on his face out of frustration. It's like he's not allowed to keep anything good to himself.

"Was that so hard?" Richie grins, clapping a hand on Carmy's shoulder.

"Don't fuckin' touch me," Carmy grumbles, walking back to the kitchen. Natalie follows him with a smile, shaking her head at Richie.

Carmy sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. He has yet to admit that he likes you more than he should. He's been avoiding it, afraid of what it might lead to, or rather, what it might not.

He couldn't let Richie go see you. He has a big fuckin' mouth and will tell you Carmy has a crush on you whether it's true or not. Just like that, he feels the sour taste in his mouth, his heartburn making an appearance. Carmy should go look for his pepto before it gets worse.

Unaware of the argument back at The Bear, Sydney walks to Bee Hive. She's walked past many times but has yet to have the time to stop and try it out.

As she waits in line, she reads over the drinks menu. It's clear that it's been carefully curated. Starbucks has nothing on this menu. She can see why Carmy would prefer to come here instead.

When it's her turn to order, Sydney takes out her phone to recite everyone's drink order. She also points to a few pastries, thinking Marcus would like to try some of them and get inspiration. That and she knows Natalie will enjoy them as well.

You're sitting at a table close to the pickup counter. You often find yourself all over the store, ensuring everything goes smoothly. Sometimes, you stop to talk to your regulars and see how they're doing.

You notice Sydney struggling with all the cups she has to carry. It's proving difficult despite the to-go trays your barista put them in. Deciding to approach her, you ask, "Do you need help?"

"Oh, no. I'm fine, thanks," Sydney responds with a nervous smile. She's trying hard to grab everything, including the box with the pastries.

You continue watching her struggle because you know she needs help. You let her try and figure it out for one more minute before stepping in again when she almost drops two of the drinks, "Need some help now?"

"Yeah," Sydney sighs, "I guess I can leave one of the trays here, go to the restaurant, and come back for the rest," she speaks mostly to herself.

"Are you going far?"

"No, just the restaurant down the block," Sydney responds with a sigh, scratching her eyebrow as she tries to figure out the logistics of carrying the drinks. She could get a box to put everything in.

You perk up at her response. The only restaurant down the block is Carmen's. Could she work there? "Carmy's restaurant?"

"You know Carmy?" Sydney asks, tilting her head. Maybe Nat was right. Carmy spends his time here because of the woman in front of her.

"He comes here often. Anyway, I can go with you to help you out. It's not far, and I'd feel bad if your drinks got cold." You offer to help her out because you're a nice person. Not because you want a chance to see the curly-haired man you are developing feelings for.

"You really don't have to…"

"It's really not a problem," you press, grabbing one of the to-go trays and motioning for her to lead the way.

Sydney sighs in defeat and nods, "Thanks. I'm Sydney, by the way."

"I'm Honey," you smile, following her outside.

You chat all the way to the restaurant with Sydney. She reminds you of Carmy in some ways, so you can see why they are friends. Before arriving at the restaurant, Sydney apologizes in advance for any sort of mess there might be, including yelling.

As you near the building under renovation, your palms start to sweat. Maybe you shouldn't have come. You're showing up unannounced, and he's probably too busy to talk to you anyway. You can slip in and out without him noticing. That's the goal now.

You open the door for Sydney, letting her go through first, and quietly follow her into the restaurant. There's no time to escape, as all eyes are instantly on you.

Richie is arguing with Fak when he sees you walk in. He narrows his eyes as Carmy looks in your direction from the kitchen. With just one glance to Carmy's face, he knows who you're supposed to be.

"Guess I didn't have to go anywhere. She came to me," Richie whispers, rushing out the door.

"Shut the fuck up. Where are you going? Don't embarrass me!" Carmy whispers out to Richie unsuccessfully.

"Oh, you'll do that all by yourself," Richie throws over his shoulder.

"Honey, hey, what-what're you doing here?" Carmy speaks, not giving Richie a chance to open his big mouth. He stands between you and Richie, blocking him for the time being.

"Sydney needed help with the drinks," you answer nervously, averting your eyes.

"Oh, thanks for that. You didn't have to," Carmy approaches you and takes the drinks from your hands. His fingers brush with yours momentarily, causing you both to blush.

"I did, or else you probably wouldn't have anything to drink," you whisper to him.

Sydney, Fak, and Richie all watch the interaction amusedly. Richie has a big teasing grin on his face as he makes a plan in his head.

"Hi, I'm Richie! Carmy's cousin," he introduces himself, shoving Carmy to the side and shaking your hand enthusiastically. "I gotta say Carmen right here is obsessed with your coffee. He's banned us from getting Starbucks."

Carmy curses under his breath as Richie does precisely what he tells him not to. He has the urge to throw the coffee at him and run away.

"Is that right?" You ask, amused, looking over at Carmy with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh yeah," Richie answers for him as Carmy tries to find the right words to say. "Cousin, why don't you give the nice lady a tour of the place?"

"It's not done yet. Could be dangerous," Carmy hopelessly says with a gulp.

"Nonsense! You'll take care of her!" Richie insists. He takes the coffee from Carmy's hands and pushes him in your direction. "Go give her a tour."

Richie, Sydney, and Fak all disappear to the office to stay out of the way and try to snoop simultaneously. Fak sends Carmy a not-so-discreet thumbs-up that makes you giggle.

He's internally screaming at his so-called friends but is glad to see you. It was all he wanted before Sydney left to get their drinks. It's strange having you here at The Bear, though. He's so used to seeing you in your own space back at Bee Hive.

Trying to make things better, you say, "Sorry you've been roped into this. You probably have better things to do. I can go-"

Carmy doesn't let you finish. "No, stay. I want to show you around."

"Let's see what you got then, Berzatto," you grin, following him to the kitchen.

Carmy takes his time showing you The Bear. He wants you to stay. He wants to spend time with you but doesn't really know how to say it. So he takes it slow, answers your questions about the restaurant, shows you the front and how everything will be laid out, and introduces you to the ones around, including the fridge guy working on the handle.

Sadly, you get a call from Bee Hive asking you to come back. Carmy walks you outside, dreading having to say goodbye.

"I'm really excited for The Bear to open. You have a great place and team," you tell Carmy.

"I really got lucky with them, huh?" He asks, playing with a dish towel.

"I gotta go. I'll see you later, Berzatto." You don't know where you got the guts to lean towards him and kiss his cheek.

Carmy stays still as his face heats up. You start walking away and throw him a smile over your shoulder. When you're a distance away, he touches the cheek you kissed. Back inside, Richie runs over to Sugar to tell her what he just witnessed.

It's late when Carmy leaves The Bear. As he walks to the train station, he has his hands stuffed in his jacket pocket. On his way, he sees a lone light turned on in your café. Crossing the street to check it out, he sees you're still there with glasses perched on your nose in front of the computer.

He tries the door, and to his luck, it's open. You look in his direction, startled, but relax once you see it's him.

"Nice glasses," Carmy teases, pulling out a chair to sit.

"Are you making fun of me?" You purse your lips, propping your chin on your palm.

"No, I…I think you look cute with them," Carmy admits. After a stern talk from Sugar and Richie, he's realized he should probably make a proper move on you because if what they say is true, you also have a crush on him.

"Thanks," you blush, the light from your screen making it obvious to Carmy, who can't stop the corners of his lips from turning up into a smile.

"Late night?"

"One of my baristas is moving out of state. I have to find someone new, preferably who has experience," you say with a sigh. Glancing at him, you add, "Are you perhaps interested in the position?"

"Poaching me from my own restaurant, nice. I'll let you know I'm an excellent worker," Carmy jokes, tapping his fingers on the table.

There's no doubt in your mind he's an excellent worker. He has to be if he's considered one of the best up-and-coming chefs. Or to work in one of the best restaurants in the world with three Michelin stars.

"I don't know. I'll need references," you speak as if not believing him.

Carmy smiles and softly chuckles, "Fair enough."

There's a moment of silence between the two of you that Carmy is quick to fill, "So, uh, have you had dinner yet by chance?" This is it.

You shake your head no and look at him with hopeful eyes.

"Wanna go grab pizza? I know a place," he asks, finding your gaze on him.

"Say no more," you say, closing your laptop and taking off your glasses. "I'm starving."

Carmy waits for you to lock Bee Hive and grab your things. Then, you both walk to the pizza place. To pass the time, you and Carmy talk about your days and anything that comes to mind. Nothing serious as you get to know each other.

Waiting in line to order the pizza, you tell him all about your nickname and how you were donned 'Honey' to everyone who knows you. In return, he tells you about his nickname 'Bear' and why his restaurant is named as such. For the first time, he dares mention Mickey.

"Best pizza in Chicago," Carmy says, taking a slice of the pie and placing it on your plate.

"I'll see about that," you murmur. You wait until he has a slice of his own and dig in simultaneously.

"It's good, but this is not the best pizza place in Chicago," you say after chewing the first bite, "I'm gonna get your chef license revoked."

"Are you? With what proof? Have you tried all the pizza places to know?"

"I don't have to because I've tried the best," you hum, taking another bite. The cheese stretches as you pull it away.

"Oh yeah? Which one?" Carmy questions you, taking a drink of his beer.

"Mine. The pizza I make is the best," you shrug modestly.

"Wait. You cook?" Carmy asks, giving you a look of surprise.

Cooking is a universal thing. Most people know how to cook up to a degree, yet only some are as confident in their skills as you are. You know you're definitely not up to Carmy's level, but if there is something you know how to do properly, it's pizza.

"Yeah! You're not the only good cook here, Berzatto," you sass back at him, dipping the pizza crust in the marinara sauce.

"Sorry for assuming," he raises his palms.

"You're forgiven," you chirp.

"When will I try this famous pizza of yours then?" Carmy wonders. An attempt to see if you'd like to see more of him.

"I promise I'll make it for you once you open The Bear. You're too stressed to fully enjoy it now," you respond. You were reaching out. Throwing hints that you want this to continue in the foreseeable future.

The conversation continues to flow with an empty pizza box in front of you. Customers come and go until it's only the two of you and a drunk customer picking up his pizza.

"Tell me about your tattoos. Were they an act of rebellion or something else?"

It's an excuse to touch his hands. You reach for them, turning them to see the black ink on his hands and fingers. You gently trace over them with the pads of your fingers. Over the hand that's stabbed, the letters S.O.U. on his knuckles and the forget-me-nots. The one you're dying to touch, though, is the one on his bicep; you'd give anything to feel the hard muscle underneath the rolled-up sleeves of his white t-shirt.

"Uh, my first tattoo is the 773. Got it when I left Chicago for the first time. After that, I sort of became addicted to them. I found they helped my anxiety when it was becoming too much. The pain distracted me and made me feel stronger than I actually was," he says, letting you touch him. He finds that he likes it. Your touch is soft and warm. Comforting.

"So what you're trying to say is you're a masochist," you say, bouncing your eyebrows at him. Your touch goes further up his arm to turn it and look at the fish tattoo on his forearm.

"I guess so," Carmy responds with a breathy laugh, "Do you have any tattoos?"

"Maybe…" You shrug as the pads of your fingers trail back down to his palm until you pull them back towards you. Carmy instantly misses the feeling, opting to cross his arms to retain the warmth you left behind.

"It's bad, isn't it?" He says knowingly. Your reaction told him everything he needed to know.

"The worst," you grimace, shaking your head at the memory of you getting it.

"So, rebellion or something else?"

"Rebellion. For all the wrong reasons," you groan, burying your face in your hands, "Growing up, everyone saw me as a good girl because that's what I was. Breaking the rules terrified me. So, as a teenager, I didn't want to be seen as a goody two shoes, so the summer before I went to college, I decided that getting a tattoo would make me a badass."

"Did it work?"

"God, no. I only got the outline done 'cause it hurt like a bitch. Then I went crying to my parents, fully having a meltdown, apologizing for disappointing them," You scrunch your nose as you say the following words, "They laughed in my face, called me a wimp, and told me to suck it up."

Carmy fully laughs at your story. Head thrown back, eyes closing, "What did you get?"

"That's a secret, Berzatto," you purse your lips, avoiding responding. You just know he'll make fun of you for it.

Everyone who has seen your tattoo has made fun of you for it, yourself included. It's so silly and not badass. Carmy will have to wait to see your tattoo, and you hope this continues so he can see it up close.

"Really? That bad?" Carmy stares wide-eyed.

"It's terrible," you nod, leaning on the table. "We should probably get going before the waitress throws a fit."

Carmy looks over his shoulder to see the waitress glaring at them. It's five minutes till close, and they've made no move to go. He turns back to you and nods towards the door. Carmy helps you with your jacket and leaves a tip on the jar for the waitress. At that, she happily calls after them with a 'Good night!'

"Do you live far?" Carmy asks, seeing how dark it is now that most places have closed. There are too many lamp posts that aren't working. He'd feel better if he could walk you home or you called an Uber. Preferably the former.

"Only a couple of blocks away. Why?"

"It's late. Let me walk you home," Carmy says decidedly, not giving you much of a choice.

"Thanks," you respond with a small smile.

The pace you set is slow. You don't want your time with Carmy to end just yet. He's such an interesting and sweet guy. He's a little awkward, but it adds to his charm, and you can see he's trying.

Somewhere along the way, his hand brushes against yours briefly. Then, it happens again, and you decide to bite the bullet. You grasp his hand in yours.

"Is this okay?" You ask when he falls silent.

Carmy doesn't have a lot of experience with girls. He can't even remember the last time he held a girl's hand. All he knows is he doesn't remember ever feeling this good. "Yes, uh, this is okay."

Carmy walks you up to your front door when you reach your house. You unlock the door but stay outside face-to-face with Carmy.

"Thanks for the pizza," you say, fiddling with your fingers. You were about to make one more move for the night. Because as long as Carmy allows you, you'll keep pushing for more.

"Sorry, it wasn't the best," he retorts, rubbing his jaw with his hand. You notice he does that a lot when nervous.

"Your company made up for it," you reassure him, "g'night Carmy." You kiss his cheek goodbye, watching as his cheeks blush.

"Night," he whispers.

As you turn to leave, Carmy stops you by grabbing your wrist, "Wait-uh, can I? Uh-shit. Fuck it." For a second, Carmy shuts out the excessive thoughts in his head and does what he's been dying to do for weeks.

Carmy cups your jaw and kisses you. It's soft and slow. He gives you enough leeway to pull away if it's something you don't want, but you reciprocate eagerly. You've been waiting for this all night.

As confidence surges through his body, Carmy throws an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You wrap your arms around him, one of your hands resting on his neck, tangling on his curls. The tug of your fingers feels like heaven.

The kiss turns needy and desperate, your lips moving perfectly in sync. His tongue brushes over your lip; Carmy has been dying to test a theory. Are you as sweet as your name?

He's rewarded by a little noise in the back of your throat as he slips his tongue into your mouth. It's endearing, and he finds a way to make you do it again. With heads tilting to deepen the kiss, he concludes he was right. You're pure honey. Sweet and addicting.

When Carmy returns to his apartment, he gets the urge to create, to cook. He wants to bring your taste to life with his cooking. Something with honey.

"I was wondering if you'd want to come to the restaurant for Family and Friends."

You and Carmy are in your little office at Bee Hive. He stands between your legs as you sit on the desk. His lips are slightly red and swollen, and the hair at the nape of his neck is messier than usual.

"Hm, I could be persuaded," you pretend to think as you play with the golden chain around his neck, pulling him towards you.

"Yeah?" Carmy laughs, leaning to brush his lips against yours. When he feels you nod, he closes the small gap between the two of you.

His hands hold your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. He tastes like coffee, which is to be expected from the discarded cup beside you. It's funny how your relationship, if it could be called that, has moved all around Bee Hive from the register to the front and now to your office.

You're at a weird spot where you're not exactly friends because friends don't kiss, but you're not a couple either. It's a situationship for sure. You're content with what you have now, although you'd also love it if Carmy were to ask you to be more. You pin it on him being shy. He'll get around to it.

"What do you say?" Carmy questions as he kisses a trail from your cheek to your jaw.

"Consider me in," you giggle when he kisses a tickly spot.

Carmy brushes a strand of hair out of your face, remaining close to you. This is what he needs. After months of stress and anxiety of having to deal with The Beef, now The Bear, he needed you and your calming presence. Someone removed from the chaos, a safe haven.

He's quiet as his thoughts consume him, and you take the intimate position to fix his gold chain. Turning it so the clasp faces the back instead of the front. "I'm excited, Carmy," you say with a smile, brushing his cheek with your thumb.

"You can bring someone with you," Carmy offers nervously because he realizes he probably won't have the time to spend much time with you. "I-I don't think I'll be around much. I'm sorry. I'd understand if that makes you change your mind," Carmy drops his head as he braces himself for disappointment.

As the weeks pass, you learn more about Carmy and his insecurities. It doesn't deter you from wanting to be with him. Everyone has their issues. "Berzatto, stop. Look at me," you softly divert his attention, "I'd love to go and support you even if it's from the sidelines."

"You sure?" He asks once more.

If reassurance is what he needs, that's what you'll give. "Don't worry about me. This is your moment, Carmy. Enjoy it. I'll be around afterward."

"Thank you for understanding," Carmy responds, stealing one more kiss from you.

When he returns to The Bear, he helps Sydney prep the dishes they finally chose to serve. He notes how everything is laid out and anything they should fix before opening.

Richie struts into the kitchen with a suit on. Apparently, it's his thing now. Carmy figures staging at Chef Terry's restaurant had a good impact on him. All Carmy wanted was to show Richie he had what it takes. That he's not a fuck up.

"Glad to see things are going well with Honey," Richie thunders.

"What are you talking about?" Carmy says in a rush as he plates the lamb expertly.

"That thing on your neck," Richie says, motioning to his own neck. He has a smug look on his face.

"I don't have time for this, cousin," Carmy grumbles, wiping the plate where the sauce might've splattered.

Groaning, Richie grabs one of the new pans and holds it in front of Carmy. "I don't see anything," he frowns, looking at Richie for an explanation.

"Right here," Richie points towards the edge of his t-shirt around his neck.

Carmy pulls it back and finally spots what Richie has been referring to. There is a fading purple bruise on his skin, a hickey. You must've done it when he was back in your office. He'd been too busy touching you to notice.

Sydney, silently watching, pipes up, "No wonder he hasn't been as on edge lately." Carmy shoots her a glare, which causes her to shrug and laugh with a, "What? It's true."

"Ay, yo, Sugar, get in here!" Richie yells down the hall to the office.

"What is it?" Natalie barges in, afraid something went to shit.

Carmy ignores Richie as he babbles to Natalie what he found. His face is red, though, as Sydney nudges his side.

"That's enough about me. We have shit to do," Carmy shouts in his chef's voice.

Everyone in the kitchen, including Richie and Natalie, repeats, "Yes, chef!"

Walking out of the kitchen Richie, 'whispers' to Natalie, "I've always wondered if he likes to be called chef in bed."

"Fuck off, Richie," Natalie glares, but then it falls, and it's replaced with a teasing grin, "He definitely does."

"I heard that! Don't you two have better things to do?" Carmy screams at them.

"Yes, chef!"

Carmy keeps hearing Cicero's 'Uh-oh' throughout the whole day. He understands Cicero, he really does, but to call you a distraction?

His work with The Bear is only starting. They managed to make it to Friends and Family. Now, they have to keep up their best work to fill up the restaurant daily and have a waiting list. His work is far from done. He should listen to Cicero.

Cicero said it with the best of intentions. He doesn't want the Berzatto siblings to fail. He wants to believe they'll succeed and, most importantly, get him his money.

If there is something Cicero has learned throughout the years, it is that girls are distractions. They mean well, but oftentimes, they keep your eyes off the ball. Especially when it's a new relationship like Carmy's. Ultimately, it's up to Carmy to decide what he wants to do. Cicero has played his part by giving him his advice.

One last delivery is made to the restaurant an hour before opening. Richie is the one to receive it and place it in front of Carmy. "She's a keeper, Cousin," he says with a pointed look and a nod. He also wants the best for Carmy, and yet it doesn't align with Cicero.

You knew Carmy would be too stressed and all over the place to eat or drink, so you sent everyone at The Bear a drink and a pastry. One of the cups has Carmen's name with a little heart and 'good luck' written on it.

"Yeah, she is," Carmy sighs, turning the cup in his hands to look at the message. His thumb brushes over your handwriting longingly. Is listening to Cicero the wise thing to do? He's one of the most successful men he knows in his family.

When it's 10 minutes till open, Carmy changes into his uniform and looks in the mirror. His heart is racing, begging for Friends and Family not to be a complete failure. Walking out of the bathroom, Carmy is a man on a mission.

It starts relatively well, but like everything in Carmy's life, the kitchen starts welcoming in the chaos.

They are too slow getting the orders out, which causes Sydney to start doubting herself and asking Carmy to step in. He reassures her she's doing good. They just have to keep up the pace.

Then, one of the new chefs disappears mid-rush. Forcing Tina to work two stations and Marcus to step out of his to help Sydney. Carmy ignores some weird tension between them as he works on ensuring the dishes are good to go.

Next thing he knows, Sugar is rushing into the kitchen, yelling at him about forks. It's wasted time, as he can't do anything about it. A shrill reverberates inside his head as he looks at the ticking clock. It's enough to give him a headache.

With no one to take a dish to its table, Carmy takes it upon himself to do it. There's no time to re-fire or wait for someone. He places it on their table and pours the tea into their cups before retreating with an 'enjoy.'

He looks at his restaurant, and suddenly, the ringing in his head gets louder. Sitting in a booth is his old boss, staring back at him like he did back in New York. Like he was waiting for Carmy to fail.

His voice echoes in Carmy's head. Why are you so fuckin' slow. Hurry up. Go faster motherfucker. Talentless piece of shit.

Right before Carmy spirals, it all goes away. His focus shifts entirely as he sees you taking your seat for the night. The one he chose because he'd be able to see you from the kitchen. You have successfully blocked the mirage he'd conjured up.

You're there with your brother as Richie talks you up, thanking you for coming. As if sensing him, your eyes lock with Carmys. Shyly, you send him a wave, which he returns, thanking you in his head for getting there at the perfect time.

Carmy ducks back to the kitchen with newfound energy. Richie enters shortly after him.

"Chef, your girl is here."

"Thanks, Chef, um, do you have the notepad?" Carmy asks as he continues cleaning dishes and making sure each one is up to par.

"Here you go."

Taking the notepad from Richie, he begins scribbling. I love- No, too fuckin' soon. Thank you for- Nope, it's too stale.

I'm happy you're here, Honey. Wait for me after you're done? -Bear

"Here," Carmy hands it to him without even looking at Richie.

"Keep up the good work, Chefs," Richie yells out to the room before disappearing to the front of the house. The door swinging shut behind him.

"Yes, Chef!"

Something isn't working in the kitchen. They're too backed up, and no matter how hard they try, they're always a tad too slow. Through Sydney surrounding the wheel to Richie, Carmy steals glances out the kitchen window. You're smiling at whatever your brother says, your lips sipping the wine he chose. Carmy can get through this night because, in the end, you'll be waiting for him.

"There he is," you sing as you spot Carmy walking out of the kitchen. The chef's whites back in his locker as he sports his white t-shirt, jeans, and jacket.

Fak, who kept you company while Carmy finished up, speaks up next, "My brother, I'm gonna grab a sandwich and head home. Honey, it was a pleasure meeting you."

"You too, Neil!"

"Thanks for everything," Carmy tells him, giving him a hug and a pat like dudes do.

Carmy turns and grabs your hand to pull you close and kiss your cheek. "What did you think?"

"It was the most delicious thing I've ever tasted," you tell him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

There's a reason Carmy has had so many accolades despite his young age. He has a gift in the kitchen. The moment his food touched your taste buds, your life changed. He and Sydney outdid themselves, and the way everything flowed showed how much work they put into the restaurant.

"You're exaggerating," Carmy modestly says, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"I'm really not," you shake your head, pursing your lips. Carmy can't resist placing a small peck on your red-painted lips.

"What about your famous pizza?"

"No, it might be the best pizza in Chicago, but whatever I ate today topped it," you smile at him, scrunching your nose. "Consider your chef's license reinstated,"

"Thanks," Carmy laughs breathily, "Do you mind if we walk? I feel some of the rush still."

"Lead the way, Mr. Berzatto."

Carmy grabs your hand, leading you to the streets of Chicago. It's silent momentarily as the wind cools Carmy's heated face. He places his hand along with yours into his pocket.

"Did your brother like it?" He asks, breaking the ice.

"Oh yeah. I'm officially like the best sister ever," you respond, squeezing his hand.

You had accidentally forgotten that your brother had passed the Bar exam. So, you didn't have time to get him anything in celebration. You figured dinner at a lovely new restaurant would help while you got him a proper present.

"How did you feel throughout, though? It looked intense." You often found yourself looking through the small glass window into the kitchen. They were always on the move, looking for the next thing to do.

"It didn't just look like it. I'm used to it, though," Carmy admits with a sniff. Everyone's best and worst habits shone through for those couple of hours. It's an environment he's all too familiar with, in and out of the kitchen.

"That rough," you grimace.

"It's fine. We have a lot to work on, but it's a start, and it wasn't entirely terrible," Carmy says, thinking back on tonight. Before coming out to meet you, he wrote down a couple of things to go through with Sugar and Sydney.

"Good, 'cause I hope The Bear sticks around the block," you say, bumping your shoulder with his.

You invite Carmy into your house when you arrive. He takes up your offer, holding your hand to help you balance as you take your heels off. It reminds Carmy he forgot to mention how beautiful you looked today.

He follows you to the kitchen, watching your hips sway and your dress skirt swishing. Padding to the wine fridge, you pick out a bottle of red to celebrate.

Carmy indulges in looking at your legs as you stretch up to reach for the glasses of wine up in your cabinets. His blue eyes darken as your dress hikes up, exposing your pretty thighs.

His gaze darts back up at you when you turn around to place the glasses on the kitchen counter. You hand him the wine opener so he can do the honors because you suck at taking the cork out. It's why you mainly stick to cheaper wines with twist-off caps.

"Here is to The Bear and its amazing owner," you say, lifting your glass in front of you.

"Here's to not fuckin' it up entirely," Carmy follows, making you giggle. Your wine glasses clink, and you take a drink.

Placing the glass back down, Carmy pins you against the counter, his strong hands resting on the edge of it. You look at him through your lashes, a hand coming up to his chest to feel the steady thumping of his heart.

"You look beautiful. I like the dress," Carmy murmurs. It's better late than never.

The dress you wear is a pretty shade of light blue. Simple yet dressy. The neckline gives him a good view of your cleavage and has long sleeves to compensate for the shorter length. They currently cover the goosebumps lining your skin.

"Yeah? I picked it out thinking you might," you reveal, biting your lip. The shade reminded you of his eyes.

"You were right," he whispers, cupping your jaw. As pretty as the dress is, he's sure it'll look so much better on the floor.

Carmy closes his eyes as he leans down to kiss you. He's always struggled with words, so he hopes it's enough for you to catch what he's trying to say.

You smile into the kiss, blindly leaving your glass to the side to be able to touch him. Your palm presses against his chest and taut abdomen. He hides a nice amount of muscle under his t-shirts, a pleasant surprise.

Carmy easily lifts you up to sit down on the kitchen island. He steps between your legs, never breaking the heated kiss. The hands on your waist trail down to your thighs and under your dress. Carmy's tattooed hands squeeze your ass and thighs, earning him a moan from you.

This is the farthest you've ever gotten, and you're more than ready to have all of him. Carmy knows this, which leads to his thoughts getting out of control.

He has to make a decision now. Does he allow himself to be with you, or does he remain by himself like always? Richie's, Sugar's, Cicero's, and Sydney's voices all shout at him different things. Some are in favor, and others are in opposition. 'Uh oh.'

He can't lead you on and sleep with you if he will back out tomorrow. The voices become deafening in an instant, ripping him away from your embrace. His emotions bubbled over and spilled all over the place.

"Wait, stop, I just-" Carmy breathes heavily, taking a couple of steps back from you. Carmy's hand comes up to his forehead as he attempts to organize his thoughts.

"What's wrong?" You ask worriedly. Did you do something wrong?

Carmen's thoughts spill out his mouth without making much sense as he paces in your kitchen. "I can't stop thinking about it and owe it to my team..."

"Carm?" You slide off the kitchen counter, approaching him slowly.

"-keeps saying it's a distraction," he rambles mostly to himself. His heart is pounding painfully in his chest. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he was having a heart attack.

"Hey, hey, hey. What's a distraction?" Softly, you grab onto his arms, stopping him in his tracks, trying to find his lost gaze.

"You. Whatever this is," Carmy breathes, finally meeting your eyes, which he instantly regrets as your eyes turn sad.

The watering of your eyes is unintentional, as is the knot forming in your throat. "You think I'm distracting you?" You question barely above a whisper.

His response is instant, "Fuck, no, the opposite. W-When I'm with you or-or think about you, things get clearer, and it's-it's when I feel the most focused." Carmy holds your shoulders, comforting you because he never meant to hurt you. He can't stand the sad look in your eyes.

Slowly, you begin to piece together his rambling and conclude that other people have been telling him you're a distraction. You wonder if they don't want him to be happy. The Bear is the center of Carmy's life, and before that, it was the restaurant in New York. He deserves more than this crazy job.

"Then fuck what others tell you, Carmen. You deserve to have a life outside The Bear." Maybe you're selfish because you don't want to lose him, but you hope he believes your words.

"I-I don't. I don't deserve all your attention or your affection. I'm nothing special. I don't deserve you." Carmy says, shaking his head with furrowed brows.

Weeks ago, he had no source of enjoyment. He said it himself at the support group. Now, he has you, yet he can't bear the thought of you wanting to be with him. He feels like he's tricking you into a bad deal. That's what he is, though, isn't he? An overachieving fuck up with tons upon tons of baggage.

Carmen Berzatto is an anxious person with too many problems in his life. He has a fucked up family. His mother is a mentally unstable alcoholic. His brother was addicted to painkillers and decided that shooting himself on a bridge was better than living this life. That's without mentioning all the trauma he has from his job and the terrible people he's worked with.

What good does he have to offer you?

"Yes, you do," you reassure him, placing your hands on his cheeks. The cool metal of your rings soothes him somewhat, grounding him. "You deserve all that and more, Carmy. You're so sweet and kind and hard-working. You've been through shit. You deserve something good in life. Maybe it's me, or maybe it's not, but don't close yourself off."

You're begging at this point. Whatever this relationship is, it's just starting. He's not giving himself a chance. You like Carmy so damn much. He's funny without knowing it and thoughtful, too. There are so many qualities he doesn't realize he has.

His eyes watch you as tears line them. He's silently pleading for you to convince him. To get him out of his own head and forget the expectations others have on him.

"I'm not going to force you into anything, Carm. It's your call, but I've enjoyed our last couple of months together. I know we don't know each other completely, but I want to know everything about you. I have feelings for you, so whatever you decide, I'll support it."

Being honest is all you can do at this point. You pour your heart out and hope Carmy chooses you.

You and Carmy stand in the middle of your kitchen. Face to face, reaching out towards each other. It's clear as day that you want the same thing. It's only a matter of taking the right steps now.

"I can't let you go," Carmy responds, grabbing the hand on his cheek. His thumb brushes over the back of it.

"Then don't."

Carmy's decision is made. Without another thought, he smashes his lips against yours. He grabs the back of your neck, tilting your head to meet his heated kiss.

It's more intense now that the cards are on the table. Nothing to hold him back.

Tongues clash together as your bodies seek each other out. The temperature rises when Carmy lifts you up to wrap your legs around his hips. His hands are on the back of your thighs, holding tight onto you.

"Bedroom?" He asks, breaking the kiss, a trail of saliva between the two of you.

"Down the hallway," you breathe heavily, kissing down his neck.

Carmy makes it to the bedroom, opening the door with a bang. He spots your bed, placing you in the middle with him holding himself up on top of you.

He watches as your back meets the bed and your fair fans around you like a halo. The curvature of your breasts accentuated even more from the position.

Carmy hikes your leg further up his hips as he dips down to kiss a wet trail down to the neckline of your dress. He leaves open-mouthed kisses on the rounded flesh, nipping at the skin playfully when you arch your back to push more into him.

"Carmy," you breathe, cupping his jaw to pull him back to your lips. Grinding your hips, you manage to graze against his bulge.

"Shit," Carmy shakily curses, thrusting his hips to meet your touch once more.

Curiously, your hands wander across his body. Carmy's moans in your ear make your panties wetter than they already are.

You grasp the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and off. You're desperate to have him, your cunt aches for him. Your nails scratch down his firm stomach when he bites into your earlobe, softly calling your name.

"Unzip me," you pant, pushing him away and pulling your hair off to the side.

Carmy grabs the small zipper, pushing it down and exposing your pretty skin. As he slides the fabric off of you, he kisses your shoulders and back, taking note of the goosebumps on your skin.

His mind is in the present, and nothing can take it away from him. It's like a switch he managed to turn off in his brain. No more family drama, no more The Bear. It's just you...and him. Honey and Bear.

You stretch your neck to the side, giving Carmy more space to pepper kisses across the delicate skin. The dress pooling at your feet exposes your chest, and Carmy's hands come up from behind you. His fingers shyly brush up your stomach, tickling you, until they find your breasts.

He draws a moan from you as he squeezes them in his palms, pushing you back to meet his chest; turning your head to the side, you find his lips.

The kiss breaks when he slides one of his hands into your underwear, dipping his finger to feel your wetness. Your arm reaches back to dig your fist in his curls.

"You're soaked, Honey," he moans, finding your clit to tease it.

"Been waiting for so long, Carmy," you whine as your hips stutter along with the flicks of his wrist.

"I'm sorry. I'm here now," he purrs into your ear.

Carmy can hear the distinct 'shlick, shlick, shlick' of his fingers against your clit. It spurs him on as he slips a finger into you. He can't wait to have his cock inside of you, snug and warm.

"Oh my god, Carmen," you gasp when he prods another finger into your entrance. Hanging onto his arm across your chest, you roll your hips against his fingers.

"I got you," he says, digging his fingers deeper into you and curling them.

Your knees buckle as the tips of his fingers curl and hit your g spot repeatedly. If it weren't for him, you'd be on the floor. With your tummy tensing under the weight of the pleasure, you stutter out, "I'm gonna cum."

Carmy's hand is wet from your juices as he ups the ante. Just as your walls begin to squeeze around his fingers, he pulls them out to circle around your clit.

"Oh, f-fuck!" You squeal, throwing your head back onto his shoulder.

The way your clit softly twitches under the pads of his fingers fucks with Carmy. It makes his cock throb and leak into his jeans.

Untangling from his embrace, you place a breathless kiss on Carmy's lips. His slick digits dig into your hips as he prolongs it.

Blindly, you find the edge of his jeans and unbutton them. If Carmy notices, he doesn't say anything. You want to give him one more reason to stay with you.

He moans into your mouth when you grasp his length through his boxers. He's rock hard as he desperately ruts against your hand.

With your hold still on him, you push him to sit on the bed. Carmy looks up at you lustfully. You plant a single short kiss on his lips before kneeling on the floor between his legs. You leave love bites down his chest while looking up at him through your lashes.

Carmy brushes away any hair that falls on your face, his blue eyes focused solely on you. When you reach the waistband of his pants, you pull them down along with his underwear.

His length pops up from its confines, slapping against his tummy. Its tip is a pretty pink shade, with a thick length and a slight curve to it. You salivate instantly at the sight of it.

Carmy's nervous under you. It's been a long since he's been with someone else, and he's never been the most confident.

"Relax," you say teasingly, kissing around his lower tummy to calm him.

Finally, your hand wraps around his cock, lightly pumping it. Leaving sloppy kisses down his happy trail, you feel Carmy's stomach taut in anticipation.

It's been so fuckin' long.

With your eyes staring into his hungry ones, you kiss the pink head that glistens with pre, teasingly brushing it against your lips. Keeping eye contact, you lick his length from base to tip. You alternate between kissing and licking for a minute, enjoying watching Carmy squirm.

"Fuck, Honey," Carmy throws his head back at your torturous pace.

"Look at me," you sweetly say.

Taking mercy on him, you part your lips to take his length into your warm, wet mouth, bobbing your head to a steady rhythm. Prying one of Carmy's hands from the bedsheets, you place it in your hair, encouraging him to use you.

"Good girl," he moans, fisting your hair to force you to take more of his cock. You let your hands rest on his thighs, feeling the strong muscles underneath.

Carmen observes you with hooded eyes as you hollow your cheeks, sucking him expertly. He's obsessed with how your lips leave behind a tinge of red lipstick on his skin.

"Shit-Fuck me," he yells into the room when you swallow around him.

You want him to cum, but Carmy has other plans. He doesn't think he'll last long if you make him cum now, so after the stunt you pulled, he pulls you off his sensitive cock.

The sight in front of him is erotic as a string of saliva connects you to his cock. The tears lining your eyes and blushed nose add to that pretty picture.

"c'me 'ere," he says, helping you up and kissing you as he leads you back to the bed. He tugs off your wet panties, throwing them somewhere in the room.

You lay back on your pillows with Carmy slotted between your legs. It's torture having him so close and yet so far. Now that you've gotten a taste of his cock you need more.

Carmy touches the inside of your thighs, inching his way closer to your cunt. He instantly notices how fuckin' wet you are. You're dripping even more than before.

"Sucking me off, got you this wet, princess?" He asks, leaning his forehead against yours.

"Mhm, Carmy, wish you would've cum in my mouth," you admit, tilting your head up to brush your lips against his.

"You have such a dirty fuckin' mouth," he chuckles darkly.

Where did this side of you come from? You're usually so sweet and delicate. He should've known you would be a freak in bed. To think he almost let this all go.

"Carmen, please."

"Please, what?" Carmen teases, lining his cock against your opening, wetting his cock.

"Fuck me," you moan, kissing his jaw.

"'m gonna fuck you good, princess," he promises, with a shaky nod before he remembers, "Fuck! I-I don't have a condom with me."

"I should have some in my drawer," you mention breathlessly.

Carmy opens the condom in record time but is surprised when you take it from his hands and roll it down his shaft yourself. You just want an excuse to keep touching him.

With your leg hiked up, he aligns himself and slowly pushes in. You both gasp at the sensation. Carmy, for one, is trying to not bust a nut so soon because you're so tight and warm.

Meanwhile, you hold onto Carmy's back as he stretches you out. It's been so long, and your toys aren't nearly as thick as him. You breathily moan in his ear, which he takes as a good sign as he begins thrusting more forcefully and deeper.

Carmy hopes this isn't a dream, and if it is, he hopes he doesn't wake up anytime soon. He has one hand holding onto your thigh and the other holding himself up. His gold chain dangles above you as he picks his head up from its spot on your shoulder. You take the chance to tug on it, returning his attention to your lips.

"You feel so fuckin' good, princess," Carmy groans, squeezing your thigh.

"I love your cock, Carmy," you whine, feeling the drag of his cock on your walls. The pleasure is all-consuming, leaving a fuzzy feeling in your brain.

"You like when I fuck you like this?"

"Yes, yes, yes, keep going."

His hips snap hard against yours, hitting that spot each and every time. His pelvis hitting your clit. He squeezes your thigh, hips, and sides before his hand squeezes your tits, too, playing with your nipples.

Suddenly, he straightens up, pulling you down the bed to have you flushed against his pelvis. He's a sight for sore eyes that forces you to keep your eyes open.

His thrusts are more forceful like this, where he digs his fingers into the fat of your hips to pull you towards him with each snap. It makes your tits bounce, hypnotizing him.

Through your lustful gaze, he looks like a marble statue. His chest glimmers under the lowlights of your room as sweat clings to him, his chain jumping against the blushed skin of his chest, and his fucking hair falling over his pretty eyes. The set of his jaw could've been sculpted by Michaelangelo himself.

Your hands indulgently reach down to touch him in any way you can. You can only reach his stomach, where a nice pair of abs appear due to the effort.

"You like what you see?" Carmy teases. He's entirely lost on you because otherwise, he wouldn't be as cocky to say that.

"You're so handsome," you pitifully say. Your brain not computing as it should, but how can it when it's being fucked out of you?

Carmy doesn't know how to respond. It's not often he's called handsome or looked at as lustfully as you're looking at him. Thankfully, he doesn't need to say much as your eyes roll back and you squeeze your walls around him.

"Carmy, I'm so close," you pant, trying to find any part of him to hold. He offers you his hand, lacing your fingers together.

"Just a little longer, princess," Carmy groans as you clench around him. "Fuck, don't do that to me."

He glances down at the spot where you and him meet to see a ring of white on the base of his cock. He's enthralled with the way you stretch to accommodate him and the way your pink walls drag along his length when he pulls out. Fuckin' beautiful.

Putting all his knowledge to use, he thumbs your clit, making you jolt. He needs you to cum now, or he won't make it. His balls feel like they're about to burst.

"Carmy," you cry out, tightening the hold on his hand.

You teeter on the edge for only a second until you cum, waves of pleasure washing over you. Carmy curses from above you as your tightening walls choke his cock, making him cum too. He stutters his hips a couple more times, riding out his orgasm.

He leans back down again, catching your lips in a small kiss. His body slowly relaxes against yours as his head rests on your neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and perfume.

"That was good," you breathe heavily, rubbing your hands up and down your back. You're just starting to think clearly.

"Fuckin' amazing," he adds.

There's a beat of silence before you both burst out laughing.

A bubble encases you, and it can't be popped as long as you stay in your bedroom. Carmy doesn't want to leave; it's late already, and in a couple of hours, he has to get up and go to The Bear to repeat the process.

For once, he forgets about that and focuses solely on you. He has a couple of hours to spare. Sleep is overrated.

You face each other on the bed, talking in hushed whispers. Your fingers trace the '773' tattoo on his bicep like you've always wanted to do. It tickles Carmy, so he grabs your hand and kisses your palm.

"Now that I'm thinking about it. I didn't see your tattoo," he whispers to prevent disturbing the peace.

Your face warms at his words. You had forgotten about that. He's seen a lot of you in the past couple of hours. What's a bit more of skin?

"You missed my big bad tattoo?" you joke, poking his nose.

"Show me," he says with a lopsided smile.

You make it dramatic, rolling your eyes and giving him a big sigh. Sitting up on the bed, you peel the bed sheets from your body. Carmy props himself up on his elbow in anticipation.

Right there, on your left side and under the curve of your breast is a small outline of Winnie the Pooh's face. Carmy touches it, biting his lip to hold back a laugh. Unsurprisingly, it's precisely what he expected from you.

A few chuckles pass his lips as he pulls you back into his arms.

"Don't laugh. It made sense at the time," you whine, covering yourself back up.

Carmy pulls you to his chest, kissing your temple, "I'm sure it does. Pooh Bear loves his Honey," Just like he does.

"Exactly! Someone gets it!"

And he does because Carmy, aka The Bear, is quickly falling for his Honey.

A couple of days later, Carmy is back at your house helping you prepare the famous pizza you promised him. He lets you take the lead on everything, preferring to follow your instructions rather than let his mind run wild. It's not like you'll let him do most of the work anyway; it's your recipe, and you're protective over it.

"Can you chop up the veggies?" You ask him as you lay down the dough in a pan.

"Yes, Chef," he nods, kissing your cheek as he digs through your kitchen drawers for a knife.

"Oh, I like the sound of that," you muse, shaking your shoulders as you knead the dough to spread it.

"Don't let it get to your head, Hun," Carmy smiles, slicing the vegetables expertly.

Cooking with Carmy is surprisingly easier than you thought. He's not controlling over the kitchen or judgy. He lets you do your thing in peace, following your orders no matter how strange they might be. This is your kitchen, not his.

As you spread the sauce and cheese over one of the doughs, Carmy gets a call. He wipes his hands with a rag and picks it up. You only hear his side of the conversation.

"No, I'm off tonight. I'm with my girl. Call Sugar. She should be able to help you with that. Great. Thanks."

Carmy had promised himself that he would try to balance it all better. He has his team to help each other out. The Bear is a priority, but so are you because you help him keep whatever sanity he has left.

Carmy hangs up, and when he returns to you, he notices the grin on your lips as you put the toppings he chopped on the pizza.

"What's with the smile?" Carmy stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he props his head on your shoulder. Your hair tickles his nose, smelling the notes of coconut of your shampoo he digs his head farther into it.

"I'm your girl?" You ask, the smile still present on your face. He'd missed your initial reaction when you heard him call you 'my girl.' You almost dropped the container of pepperoni that was in your hands. It's a shock cause he never asked you to be his girl.

Carmy pauses and tenses up against you. "Uh, yes? Hold up. Turn around," he orders, as he places his hand on your hips to turn your body around.

"Yes, chef," you respond cheekily, your arms around his neck, careful not to touch his sweater with your messy hands.

"Aren't you my girl?" He frowns, rubbing a thumb over your hips.

"I could be, but I don't remember you asking," you pretend to think.

Carmy never directly asked you to be his girlfriend, and you never asked him to be your boyfriend. You might as well be a couple since you've been dating long enough. You decide to seize the opportunity now to get it out of him. Having a proper anniversary day would be nice because you hope this lasts.

"I see, my mistake," Carmy nods, catching your vibe, "Honey…"

"Yes, Carmy?" You blink innocently at him.

"Would you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?" He finally asks.

You could joke around but decided against it cause the moment is perfect, "I'd love to," you nod, giving him a small kiss.

When the pizza is cooked, you bring it over to the dining table. Serving Carmy a pretty slice. Excitedly, you wait for him to bite into it and taste it.

"What do you think?" You ask expectantly.

"You were right. Best pizza in Chicago," Carmy agrees with an unbelievable laugh. He's got a lot to learn from you. It's the truth, or maybe he's blinded by his feelings. Only time will tell where you and Carmy will end up.

The End?

thank you guys for pulling through and reading! i know it's a slow burn but i hope you liked it! i certainly enjoyed writing it even though it took me like 4 months.

if you liked it, i would appreciate you liking it, commenting or reblogging. if you have some feedback feel free to send it my way too. i wanna get better at this whole writing thing!

thank you! bye xx

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #fanfiction #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fanfiction #the bear fanfiction #the bear #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy x fem!reader

[kivino]

MORE ROOMMATE!SOAP PRETTY PLEASEEE!!!!!

ROOMMATE!SOAP HEADCANONS

my masterlist

Word counter - ~900 words

Tags/Warnings - pure fluff!

A/n - ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE ANON <33 i can't really post a complete fic rn because i'm working on another midterm essay so here y'all go! I also have another fic with Roommate!Soap planned out, so stay tuned sdkflskdfjs

You two met through his sister, you, being her college friend, visited her and her family during breaks many times, and that’s where you met Soap. You two were on pretty good terms, and he would sometimes call you when he or his family were not able to get ahold of his sister when she would go out to parties (usually accompanied by you). However, the two of you became roommates only later in the future, when he decided that he didn’t want to live with his family anymore, but leaving an apartment all empty for months on end would just be foolish. So that’s when he decided he needed someone to co-exist with, and you casually made your way into his life.

Whole Task Force 141 plus Laswell know about you, because of how homesick he gets sometimes! And you don't always respond to messages, you have your own life after all (plus, Soap knows you're not good with texting back, so he tries not to pressure you). However, unintentionally he starts to remember or mention you in unrelated conversations. And that's how everyone around him knows that it's time for him to go on his leave.

Not a lot of people are allowed to call him Johnny. He still gives his older sisters shit for calling him that sometimes. You and Ghost, however, are both allowed to do it. Not like his discontent would’ve stopped you though.

More often than not talks about you in a way that makes it appear like the two of you are together, with how he’s all smiles during these conversations. Describes you like he’s an infatuated teenager and then gets confused when someone assumes Soap is talking about his significant other. It's not that he is oblivious to his feelings, or a dumbass, of course not, it's that his feelings lasted for so long that it's very much normal to him and he doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary with it.

The love language that you both share is bullying and insulting each other relentlessly. Soap is less harsh with his words, but you’re just merciless. Sometimes it also grows into play fights and roughhousing between you. Soap tries to be careful, because he knows that he’s stronger (he’s in the military, duh), but he still won’t go down without a fight. So he goes easy on you.

We know that Soap has a whole sketchbook, filled to the brim with many drawings of various quality, his thoughts, and different garbage he picks up when he has the opportunity. A pretty leaf? Snatch. A random receipt from when you got groceries with him together? Snatch. A note you scribbled for him to finally wash his damn dishes? Sad snatch. When he's on leave he takes the opportunity to sketch you as much as possible, so he remembers every single detail of your face, the expressions you make, or the way you position your body. Soap does it to be able to replicate it when you’re not around him. He has millions of sketches where you’re napping on the couch.

When he’s absentmindedly doodling something during the briefings and meetings he draws small figures that resemble Task Force and you. One time he bought some colored pens so he’s not bored out of his mind on base, and the assigned color to draw you was blue, while he drew himself with a red pen. Gaz got green and Ghost he draws using a black pen, both Laswell and Price share the fact that Johnny draws them with a pencil.

One of the small traditions that you have when he’s on leave, is cooking something for each other while some show you’re not paying attention to plays in the background. The kitchen in the apartment is pretty modest, so two people cooking and moving around at the same time is a bit too much for such a small amount of space. When you get too into the process of mixing or cutting something and Soap needs to squeeze past you, he gently puts a hand on your lower back and you instantly know what he wants, because of how much he does it. It’s never arrogant or invasive, instead, it’s gentle and a bit playful.

Johnny’s very sociable and likes going out to drink frequently. You, however, prefer to not get involved in his escapades as often, so you stay home, instead telling him to call whenever he needs you to pick him up. On multiple separate occasions, when he came back home a bit tipsy, he would stumble into your room and fall on your bed, getting knocked out almost in a second. Soap’s snoring is pretty loud when he’s drunk or has a stuffy nose. Plus, he’s as heavy as a damn rock and you can’t move him because of it, so instead you sleep on the couch, sacrificing the health of your back for Soap’s sweet dreams.

Johnny is pretty good with his hands. If anything broken needs fixing, or anything heavy needs lifting he’s always happy to help. He’s also a decent cook, so if you’re not feeling like cooking dinner after you’re back home from work he’s ready to throw something together for you no problem. Partially because he knows that you’d do the same for him if he asked. And, well, he just cares about you. He’s ready to cook dinner for you for the next decade if it means you’ll feel better.

Your texts with him are filled to the brim with stupid videos and photos you send each other. If Johnny sees something that reminds him of you, what you like, or some random inside joke – you best believe he’s already snapping a photo and sending it to you.

check out my masterlist for more fics or send me a request/comment!

#cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty mwii #call of duty x reader #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #john soap mactavish x gn!reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #cod soap #mw2 soap #soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap call of duty #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw fanfiction #mw2 2022 #mw2022

[pettydollie]

you belong with me - m.s x reader

this is a submission for @annamcdonalds67 's writing challenge under the category 'fluff-angst' !! sorry if this was too short ( ˵>ㅿ<˵ )

summary: you've liked matt sturniolo ever since he moved into town. his girlfriend doesn't care about him like you do. you can treat him so much better.

warnings/notes: cursing, references to sex, characters are in hs, no happy ending, this is a oneshot so theres no part two unless i really feel like it wc: 1.3k

lana del rey lightly hums throughout your room, your laptop being open to your "winding down" playlist as you read your favorite book. you decide that you're finished for the night, closing it shut after placing your pink sanrio bookmark in the spine. you reach over to place the book on your nightstand before getting up.

you skip towards your window in your cute dainty pajamas and open your satin curtain. you look across the way and your long-standing crush’s window is there, open for you to see inside. matt sturniolo. he's studying and seems to be very focused. he wears a grey pair of headphones and a black hoodie that read words you weren’t able to see from the distance even if you squinted.

you smile softly and watch him for a few seconds before he looks up, his eyes catching yours. you shriek, your content smile falling. embarrassed, you close your curtains and run back to your bed where you curl under your soft fluffy blankets. you smile sheepishly at your childish behavior. you wonder if he thinks you’re a freak for looking at him so creepily.

your lips form a frown. you don't want him to think that of you. you decide to uncover yourself and peek through your window again. however, this time, his eyes are away from his desk. he looks off into the distance with his phone pressed against his ear. he looks annoyed, you can tell by the way his eyebrows scrunch up. you pout, feeling bad. although matt's been your next door neighbor over a year, you only see him in school, too scared to visit him any other time. but maybe you can go over and talk to him- oh shit he's looking

his phone is off his ear and resting in front of him on the desk. he's looking at you with a confused look. you smile, pointing a finger up, showing him that you need a second. he nods, and you grab a piece of paper and a pink marker. you scribble the words “hii!! you okay?” neatly onto the page before holding it up.

matt looks down for a moment after reading your paper to write his response with an exhausted sigh.

“tired of drama”, it read. you shrug in response awkwardly with an apologetic smile, writing down "sorry :(" onto the paper. he writes something in his notebook, but hesitates before ripping the page out and throwing it behind him.

he then writes on a separate piece, which he reveals to say, "can i get your number? im wasting paper here lol" he gives you a small smile, how can you say no?? you bite your glossy lip gently before scribbling onto the paper, "bella won't mind?"

isabella holbrook is matt's girlfriend. eugh, you hate the thought of her. you have no idea why someone so perfect like him is with a jerk like her. you have a simple guess, though. perfect hair, perfect body, perfect social status-- who wouldn't wanna date her? you understand perfectly, even though you're just making assumptions... maybe she could be a kind person behind closed walls?

no. absolutely not, you almost laugh at the thought of bella being nice.

matt chuckles dryly after reading your words. he quickly writes down two sentences. "nah she'd be pissedddd, my bad. see you tomorrow :)" he closes his curtains a few seconds later. your shoulders slump and your pout becomes more evident. you shouldn't have said anything. you plop back down onto your bed shamefully.

the next day, you're sitting in class. your seat assignment is two rows behind bella, and even from that distance, you can still hear her smacking on her gum like a fucking cow eating grass. your teacher has his back turned as he faces the whiteboard, giving bella time to scribble down something on the corner of her empty notebook.

she rips out the tiny piece, crumpling it up before "accidentally" dropping it on the floor. she gasps in faux surprise, "whoops!" she mutters.

she stands up, flipping her chocolate brown hair behind her before slowly bending down to pick it up. matt's eyebrows raise at the sight of her panties. he looks away quickly and clears his throat. isabella smirks, dropping the (what you assume to be dirty) note onto his desk.

he sends her a glance before opening up the note. his eyes widen slightly, crumpling the paper back up before anyone else could see it. "now??" he mouths to his girlfriend. she grins, sticking her tongue out nastily. you can tell he's uncomfortable, anyone could. she leans over to his ear, "you can't be a virgin forever, daddy." she whispers loudly enough for some people (including you unfortunately) to hear, causing them to snicker.

your teacher turns around abruptly, raising an eyebrow. "is there something funny?" he coughs out. isabella fixes her posture as if she's an innocent little girl and shakes her head. "no sir." you roll your eyes and gag.

you don't know what really happened after that since you had to leave in the middle of class to an assembly for perfect attendance. sixth period was thankfully skipped because students who're apart of band, the cheerleading squad, and of course the football team had to practice for the pep rally.

you kneel down onto the hard gym floor, hurriedly assembling your clarinet while matt and isabella stand close to you, hand in hand. "oh god, i swear, if we have to do one more of these rehearsals with these band freaks, i'm gonna puke." she spits, folding her arms angrily.

matt happily shoves his sweaty hand into his pocket. "freaks is crazy, you're the ones doing backflips and splits, that shit's freaky." he grins, looking into her eyes. he waits for a chuckle or atleast a smile. but she scoffs, clearly offended for some reason. you giggle as quiet as possible at his joke. his head turns and he smiles a real smile when he sees someone understanding his humor.

you meet his glance with a small smile and he nods towards you. bella grabs for his hand again, starting to chatter again. you blow a strand of hair out of your face, finishing assembling your instrument. matt takes a small step towards you, bending down slowly. he kneels next to you, catching your attention.

"hey, i thought you did percussion?" he raises an eyebrow and points towards your clarinet. it takes you a moment to reply, not knowing he paid attention to what you were playing. you nod and hum. "mhm! i did, but they needed another clarinet so i offered to learn. it's easier anyways.!"

you're such a bubbly person which makes matt's heart flutter in a way it shouldn't. you continue to explain why you like clarinet more, but he just can't listen. all he's looking at are your shimmery lips covered in lipgloss. then his gaze travels to your eyes, your pretty lashes batting at him so sweetly. he loves your hair too. it's so shiny and-

"cmon, they're starting." bella grumbles from above him, pulling him to stand up. his smile falters, but he waves to you anyhow. you wave back awkwardly, wishing she didn't drag him like a dog on a leash.

maybe it's for the best, matt thinks. he shouldn't have been staring at you so passionately when he has a girlfriend.

you watch him walk away with a frowny pout. your dainty pink nails tap on your clarinet unknowingly as you think about what could be. you could treat him one hundred times better! you wouldn't want him just for the fun of a relationship or for your status, who gives a shit about that anyways.

you want him for him. matthew sturniolo, the boy you've liked since you met him. you huff, still sitting pathetically on the rough gym floor. "you belong with me." you whisper to yourself.

tags !! <333 @leah-loves-lilies @latinasforchrizz @stargirlsturniololover @junnniiieee07 @mattsneezing @freshloveee @freshsturns @emma4eva @r6diosturns @matthasmywholeheart @donthugmeimhot @blahbel668

#𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓸 #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader fluff #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x girly reader #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo x reader angst

[its-ares]

— Echoes of Longing

Male Reader

Months have passed since Kai was imprisoned in the Prision World again. With a broken heart, you think back to the moment when Bonnie locked up your boyfriend - she snatched him from your arms. You can still remember Kai's last words, the last kiss, his smell and how his hands were on your cheek and tenderly wiped away your tears.

"I'll be back, pretty baby. And when we're together again, nothing can separate us. I love you," Kai whispered and kissed you one last time for a very long time.

Since Kai left, you have only been physically present. Your days are filled with crying and hoping. In your head, you know that you may never see Kai again. But your heart continues to hope.

Your friends, if you can still call them friends, check on you every day. Bonnie is the only one who doesn't visit you. Understandably, you wouldn't wish the pain she caused you on anyone. A big part of you doesn't want to see her at all, it's hard to imagine what you would do! But a very small part of you wants to talk to her, wants to understand exactly why she did it. You actually know why Bonnie did it, but you begged her not to do it and yet she sent Kai back to the Prison World.

It was a quiet Wednesday, 9 months had passed since Kai was imprisoned again. You couldn't leave your apartment for weeks, it became a place of refuge for you and Kai. You lived in your own bubble there, nobody could get to you. But you knew you couldn't stay at home forever, so you decided to go to the library. You spent months gathering information to bring Kai back, but no book or spell worked and at some point, after a breakdown, you threw everything away.

After you had gathered all the books together, you quickly went back to your apartment. In your living room, you had scattered all the books on the floor, and notes with your thoughts scribbled on them were flying around everywhere. You leaned against the couch and looked at all the information you had collected.

You notice a small black book that sticks out a little from your small coffee table. You carefully take it out of the stack and leaf through the pages. Almost at the very end of the book you notice a handwritten note. You recognize the handwriting straight away; Kai must have written something in it back then.

To escape the Prison World you need a Bennett, she will show you how to bring someone back. Just because it seems hopeless doesn't mean it won't work.

After reading the note, you know what you have to do. You get up and quickly collect everything important and pack it in your backpack. A hope grows within you that you haven't felt for a long time. When you step out of your apartment, you run to Bonnie. When you arrive at her house, you knock energetically on her door.

When the door opens, you squeeze through. "What are you doing here?" Bonnie asked, surprised. She's wanted to visit you so many times, she's sat in her car so often and has been able to force herself to get out. You look at her determinedly. "I want you to help me get Kai back."

"That's impossible and you know it. Please finally write Kai off," Bonnie said, looking sad. You laugh and show her the notebook.

"Don't tell me to forget my soulmate," you snap. "There's a note from Kai in here, he says I need a Bennett witch so I can get someone out of the Prison World." You show her the notebook and Bonnie looks surprised, she never thought Kai would give it another thought. She also never thought he would leave you a note.

"Bonnie please, I need Kai - I need him so much." Tears gather in your eyes. The others never understood why you fell in love with Kai. They thought he had manipulated you, but when they saw you break down, they knew that he really meant something to you.

"I don't know if it will work. I don't want you to get your hopes up too much," Bonnie said, taking your hands. “I have to try,” you say, looking at her determinedly.

You and Bobbie prepare everything you need. Out of the corner of your eye you notice how she keeps watching you. "If you want to say something, then just say it," you say and look at her demandingly.

"You're right, I want to say something. I'm sorry. After the incident, I wanted to visit you so often and I didn't dare. I hid behind the thought that you didn't want to see me anyway. It wasn't until Kai was gone that I realized how much he meant to you. And when I think of the moments when you looked at him, you looked at Kai the way I always looked at Enzo. That's when I realized that you love Kai." Bonnie cries, you never thought that she would apologize or that she would feel so bad.

Part of you still wants to hate Bonnie, but the other part just wants to forgive her and get your friendship back. You surprise Bonnie when you walk up to her and hug her. You just hug for a while, but when you pull away, Bonnie laughs and wipes away her tears.

"Okay, we have everything now. Let's try it," says Bonnie and you smile gratefully. You sit down and start with the spell. You feel a wind suddenly blowing around you and then the candles go out.

"Did it work?" you ask, looking around. Bonnie looked confused. She reached for the book and flipped through the pages frantically. "What's wrong?" you ask, moving closer to her.

"It should have worked, why didn't it work? We did everything it said, that‘s impossible," she murmured and turned the page. You and Bonnie tried again and again, but nothing worked. All the hope you still had disappeared.

Hours have passed, the moon was high in the sky and the stars were glittering. You and Bonnie were sitting on the couch, the TV was on in the background, neither of you could stand the silence. You looked out the window and watched the stars. Kai had to be out there somewhere, waiting for you. Is he also looking at the stars and thinking about you?

"What are you thinking about?" Bonnie asked and you smiled painfully. "I wonder if Kai is thinking about me too. I hope he knows that I'm doing everything I can to bring him home," you whispered and wiped away a tear. Bonnie moved closer to you and put her hand on yours. "I'm sure Kai is thinking about you and he knows that you're doing everything in your power to get him back."

At some point you fell asleep on the couch, you talked for a long time - Bonnie explained to you why she acted like that. Somehow that day brought you back together. You haven't completely forgiven her yet, but you're on the right track.

You and Bonnie spent the morning reading the books. You marked the important things and you both wanted to try the spell again this evening. Then at lunchtime you made your way home.

You arrive at your apartment and unlock the door. You put your backpack next to the door. You are just about to take off your jacket when you hear a noise from the living room. You pick up the baseball bat that is next to the door and slowly walk towards the living room.

As you walk through the doorway you can't believe your eyes. Kai is sitting on the couch, you drop the bat and shake your head. "No, you're not here, this must be a dream. You can't be here, it didn't work," you mumble to yourself and pull at your hair.

Kai jumped up and walked quickly towards you. "Baby stop, I'm here - I'm here." Your boyfriend took you in his arms and pressed you tightly against his body. You couldn't believe it. You had been wanting this exact moment for months and now it was here.

Tears dripped onto Kai's sweater, but he didn't care. Finally he could hold you in his arms again. "I'm here now and I'm never leaving you again, pretty baby."

It felt so good to be in Kai's arms again. You both missed it so much. He sealed his promise with a deep kiss. No one can ever separate you again.

#kai parker x male reader #malachai parker x male reader #malachai parker #the vampire diaries

[mossmurdock]

Wishing In the Rain (the sun is my shooting star)

ao3

summary: Satoru finds himself in the corners of a bookstore by complete chance, entranced with its very endearing owner and their love for the rain. The bleak and gloomy weather gains a new meaning through time, and along with that comes the not so subtle change in Satoru's feelings towards the owner themselves.

tags: very brief appearance of kugisaki and fushiguro and itadori, rain, the reader and their jewelry, gender neutral reader, bookstores, implied sexual content, reader owns said bookstore btw, denial of feelings, its one sided though because satoru is an idiot, alternate universe-cannon divergence, i made him a bit softer than i intended in this, but idc i think he should be loved, not beta read, fluff

notes: i wrote this almost two years ago now! unbelievable :o but it still has such a special place in my heart since i wrote it during a pretty difficult time and i wanted to finally share it with yall on here!!

EVERYTHING led back to the night Satoru had mistakenly fallen asleep at your apartment. The tiny trail of breadcrumbs that was his stale conflict deliciously pointed to it. And Satoru followed it like a famished, foolish fowl. A fool, really. He was at the scene of the crime laminating evidence. 

He had met you at a bookstore of all places: silent, still, and sobering. The complete opposite of where Satoru would usually meet the people he would eventually decide on following home or vice versa. 

It is rainy and he suddenly decides on pretending to need shelter.

You were shelving books in the isle he happened to be sitting in for at least two hours by then. All the way in the back of the store, slowly pushing your cart, slowly inching closer to his end of the narrow and dusty hallway. Satoru had been sitting against a wall with a window over him, the gray sky spraying itself on your extending arms. You would face the cart, select a book, brush soot off of its cover the best you could, push it into the shelf (with your thumb, index, and middle finger), and then push the cart again to start all over. Sometimes you would need to crouch to lower shelves, grimacing anytime you needed to. There was a small curse on your shoulder that would press its small finger into the side of your neck anytime you did. 

Satoru cannot remember exactly what it was he had been reading, but you spoke to him about it once reaching the end of his hall with your creaky cart. Quietly, you whispered to him that it was a good pick, praising him for his selection. And while doing so you were slyly reaching into the back of the gray cart, placing a similar volume near him. 

“I noticed it covered a lot more,” you said.

Between page twenty-four and twenty-five of the book was your number scribbled on the back of a bookmark. He notices it just as you are turning a corner, the curse on your shoulder suddenly gone (he pretends to not notice his hand waving it away).

Satoru had pocketed the set of digits before cashing in and exiting the small nook of a store, which maybe was his first real mistake. Satoru never called, so why had he kept the number in the first place?

Instead he showed up at the same store, the same day; only this time it was much later and the rain had gotten time to make itself heavier than before.

You fell into him in front of the bookstore doors unexpectedly, with quick hands and even quicker lips. You fit into his chest too perfectly for someone he barely knew the name of.

Satoru’s jacket is on the floor of your bedroom and he is pretty sure that dreaded bookmark is burning a hole through the fabric.

He at least was able to save himself by leaving as fast as he could, making sure to grab everything that was his and not leaving even a trace of himself behind. 

For some reason he finds himself back in front of that bookstore only a week later. A bookmark he does not plan on using (he folds the ears of his pages) still very much in his left pocket. 

“You’re back?” you ask. 

“Of course I am. Plus, it is still raining. I needed shelter.” Satoru seriously should not be here, because you string him along into thinking that he could have ‘stayed for breakfast if he had wanted’ and that there would be a ‘next time’. 

You tell him to save your number into his phone.

“How do you know I haven’t yet?” he asks. 

You look at him up and down, still working with your hands: multitasking in a blur Satoru for some reason is hardly able to catch.

“You don’t seem like the type.”

There’s a book you leave on the counter when you leave to what Satoru safely presumes is the back of the store. 

It's titled ‘Souhaiter’. And in between the same pages as the first time, a bookmark tells him to meet you at a bar he has only ever been to once before. 

Satoru shows up late and with his jaw aching. You do not mind that he does not drink as much as you do. 

And slowly, Satoru laxes. This is something he is more used to. The subtle tipsiness of movement, music that's a little too loud, and the flirtatiousness of two knees brushing underneath a table. 

You down a drink and leave the stool, still half laughing from something funny he said. You tell him you are going to the bathroom by leaning into him, neon lights bouncing off the whites of your teeth. 

You don't come back. 

At first Satoru is worried he somehow missed some sort of lead you were putting down, having missed a hot moment that he convinced himself is what he showed up for in the first place. But he does not find you there when he goes looking. 

Satoru officially ends his night with his phone up to his ear, a set of familiarized numbers flashing on the screen. He tells himself he did not remember your phone number by heart. It was absolutely an accident, he might even be ringing the wrong number. By the third ring he feels relieved that he might be right. 

But then you pick up and it feels like his stomach drops. 

“Hey! Leave a message after the beep!” You laugh, it tells Satoru that this is not an automated voice message. There is that subtle unevenness tilted between your breaths that he felt next to his ear only a half hour ago.

“I’m kidding—obviously—” 

Another voice cuts in, much more slurred than yours. “Look it’s raining!” 

You hush them, still laughing. “How’s it going, whoever you are?”

“It’s Satoru. Gojo Satoru.” He does not know why he repeats himself. 

“Oh!” It’s the first time he hears you startled. “Satoru!” It’s the first time you say his first name.

“Oh,” he repeats. He repeats and does it over, he will do it over.  The straying thought makes his stomach flip again, it makes him forget about the rain pelting onto his hair.

“I totally bailed on you…” you sigh.

“You did. After inviting me. That’s never—”

“The Gojo Satoru has never been stood up?” you interrupt. 

“Obviously not.”

“Well I’m not glad to be the first, just for the record. I was really looking forward to you.”

A pause. 

“You called though,” you say cheekily. “Didn’t think you had it in you. Think you could save it? Or are the Gojo Satoru’s contacts completely filled?”

He contemplates, finds himself smiling and wonders if there’s a drink in his hand. But the smile isn’t tipped at all, it is set and leveled. 

“I don’t know…I might need to make some room.” He sucks a breath through his teeth, as if this was very difficult. In a way, this very much was. 

He pretends to ‘make room’ by making electronic noises and random ‘ums’ and ‘uhs’. It makes you giggle. 

“Oh!” Satoru exclaims. 

“Oh,” you repeat. You repeat, and he hopes you do it over. 

“As it turns out, there is room! Fitting you in right this second.”

You let out a feigned sigh of relief, and after your performance you add: “You’ll call me?”

Satoru finds himself saying yes before he can even realize he’s actually saving your contact information instead of pretending to do so. The screen of his phone is wet. 

You slam him against a wall much like the first time. With your hand to his chest and the other snaking its way up to his shoulder. Satoru this time has to painfully deal with the harder edges of the bookshelf behind him, it jostles, stories threaten to spill out above him. He debates turning on his infinity, instinct telling him a book might fall straight onto his head; but the hand that had been on his shoulder has already made it to his waist and he would want nothing to stop the feeling. And at the same time, your head tilts into his neck. 

There’s something about your lips that matches this place. Something about being timeless and the permanence of ink.

Words can be fleeting though, and you’re off of him right as things seem to be getting started. 

“I really don’t appreciate the teasing.” Satoru pouts. 

You smile. “Not teasing. Just making up for the bar thing.”

“That hardly felt like enough compensation.”

“Compensation for what?” You scoff, already back at the register as if you had not been unraveling him seconds ago. 

“My feelings.” He expresses sadly.

Exasperated, you plant your elbows on the register desk and look at him pointedly. 

“Don’t you have some meeting? I don’t want to ruin the small amount of professionalism you’ve somehow managed to gather.”

Satoru gasps, “I’ll have you know I’m very professional on a day to day basis.”

“Sure. Remind me when blindfolds started being professional?” you ask. 

“This is an aesthetic choice—one that you very much said I pulled off just an hour ago,” he reminds. You wave him off. 

“And besides.” He leans into your space. “the rain hasn’t stopped yet.”

Impossibly closer. You smell like fresh earth, like tea leaves and dust. 

It is a forgettable and slow Sunday: the store is void of its usual customers, and pink stained sunlight lazes its way inside the building. 

You cling to his shirt to bring him closer to you, chest to chest and breath to breath. Tugging on his lip just enough for it to hurt him. Just enough for him to let out a sound. 

When Satoru reaches the Jujutsu higher ups, he is late and ruined by you. 

One of them mentions the rainy season: small talk he does not care for; but it brings a wicked grin to his face. 

“Why aren’t you wet?” you ask Satoru. 

“What?” He chuckles through a mouthful of chocolate croissant, still warm. “That hardly seems like an appropriate question to be asking in public—but hey, if you’re into that—”

This is not a date, Satoru should know as much simply because he has repeated it both aloud and to himself at least hundreds of times since the morning has started. The problem is that it feels like it is; him buying you breakfast, his arm around your shoulders (to keep you warm, he jokes), you moving to hold his hand because you just cannot help being that bold (to keep you warm, you say), him giving said hand up because he for once cannot think of doing anything else. And because his hesitance would have only made you laugh at him without the slightest drop of malic to it. 

This ‘not date’ is being held in the largest bakery Satoru has ever been in before. It was walking distance from your house, barely 5 minutes away. The only problem was that it had started drizzling again and the two of you had only just gotten out of the shower. The sky was also very bleak, too foggy for it to actually seem like early morning.

Turns out it was barely any problem at all. You liked the rain, and for Satoru, it obviously did not matter in the slightest. 

Turns out it is a problem though, because Satoru has just walked through rain and barely has a drop of precipitation on him; his hair, while it should be at least a little frizzy from the humidity, still lays perfectly. And you have finally noticed said detail. 

“That’s not what I meant.” You wipe crumbs from the corner of your mouth. “You’re completely dry.”

“Guess your umbrella wasn’t as broken as you thought.” He gives you a winning smile, but it only makes you squint your eyes at him suspiciously. The bar stool’s coolness is barely hitting his back, but he watches the raindrops racing down the bakery window reflect off of your face: just as cool and gray as the seat; and it gives him the same shiver up his spine that the cold chair is meant to. 

“Are you…water resistant?” you ask him genuinely. It makes him burst out into laughter, the sound of the rain hitting the roof claps along with him in his amusement. 

“What?” He chokes. “You just saw me in the shower.”

You shrug, “To be fair, I was focusing on other things at the moment.”

Satoru hums at that. “For someone who says they aren’t a morning person, you were pretty eager—”

“I’ll stop you right there.” You interrupt him, taking another bite of your food and another sip from your drink. Both have probably chilled by now. 

“When did I mention to you that I wasn’t a morning person? Are you stalking me or something?”

No. Satoru was not a stalker, contrary to his friend’s beliefs (Nanami). 

But what everyone did know was that he was observant. 

When he came to see you this morning you opened the door with too many hearts on your sleeves. Your store is an hour or so from opening and a transit bus away, yet you are still wearing pajamas. You look freshly out of bed: bleary eyes and awkward posture. One side of your cheeks has the markings of a blanket and pillow on it, your arm hands by its side limply, the other drops from the doorknob only to rub at your sore face. 

Your voice is hoarse and soft, like a crushed plum; and you are too tired to notice him blatantly fawning over you, or the way he hastily kissed your cheek before walking in. A gesture much too soft to be shared with a hook up. 

But Satoru can barely call you that now. Not with a pastry he just bought you sitting comfortably in your stomach and his coat hanging heavily over your shoulders. 

He says, “No. You just looked like shit this morning.” You punch him on the shoulder before moving to check the gold watch on your wrist. It is old and thin, he had first thought it was broken when he had seen it on your nightstand that first night. 

“Man, I’ve really got to open.” You grab your drink and drop from the stool. 

“I should go. Thanks for everything.” 

You do not kiss him goodbye or even squeeze his hand as a farewell. You do something much much worse. 

You whisper to him, “Come by again later tonight.” And you leave without taking your broken umbrella with you.

And you leave out the door with his coat.

Part of him thinks it is because you forgot you were wearing it and because the pouring has ceased; but the other part knows it is because the suggestion is the complete opposite of a goodbye. 

And because you will need to see him to return the coat. 

And because he will be reminded to buy you a new umbrella.

Satoru is beginning to become very fond of the rain.

The water ricochets from the roof of your apartment any time he is over and it begins to pour, which is more often than not. Placed on the top of the apartment building, it is the same as his luxurious home, top floor and closest to the sky; yet less empty and filled with more than just the echo of his own voice. Here, he feels full and soft, your own breath filling the already comfortable silence. 

You look pretty underneath him. 

You look pretty with him, He thinks. 

Satoru falls gently onto your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly.

He has run out of excuses to see you comfortably, and it is all the weather’s fault. He damns the clear sky for days. 

Satoru damns it to hell; all of its annoyingly crystal blue and streaky pure white clouds. This has been the longest dry spell in weeks and the sudden heat has forced him to self-reflect. It has forced him to think of you more outside of when he was allowed to. The atmosphere of it all is uncomfortable: his blindfold barely sits coolly on his face anymore, curse blood no longer washes off of him easily, the smell of wet concrete is replaced by the hot stench of asphalt.

The hands of others are too clammy, too balmy, too blistering in all the wrong ways. He misses the brisk feeling of your fingernails on his skin. 

It has been two weeks since Satoru has seen you. Two weeks since he has walked even a mile near your store, your home, that bar, or the bakery. Two weeks since he has bought himself a new phone on the excuse that the other model was old, and not because his prior had a contact on it he was too much of a coward to delete. 

The lack of air conditioning in his apartment has been ignored for two weeks as well, and when he wakes up with the sheets sticking to him for the millionth time, he decides it is time to buy a new one. 

He should have known they would have been sold out in most places. The city has fallen into an air conditioning shortage crisis that he very much does not appreciate after walking into the fourth store of the day. After the familiar welcome song of the glass sliding doors, Satoru’s legs extend their way to the electronics section as fast as they are able to. 

Through his darkly tinted glasses, he scans for anything that would provide him with some sort of fresh air. His hand collides with another. 

Satoru wonders if you feel the pressure of his infinity holding up before he realizes it is you. If you had felt the physical manifestation of walls breaking down. 

“Satoru?” You look up at him while still bent down as he is. He imagines the situation looks a little ridiculous to any outsider: two pedestrians stuck in their crouched places in an isle and staring at each other in subtle shock. His hand sits still next to yours. 

It is covered in gold rings, cold to the touch, and your wrist hangs with a dainty bracelet attached to it. Against his ankle, he can feel the breeze of your long, flowy skirt brush against him. 

“Sorry, who are you?” He plays dumb. 

If it were any other person he’s sure he would have gotten a slap to the face at the comment, but you almost burst out in laughter. Casually, you reach up to his face and pluck the glasses from his face as you stand to your full height. Satoru finds himself following you. 

Staring at his bare face, you smile at his eyes. 

“It is you!” You twirl the specs in your hand as he tries and purposefully fails at retrieving them from you. 

“It would have been funny if it wasn’t though, right?” 

No, it wouldn’t have been. Satoru’s face actually almost falls at the thought of you speaking so charmily with someone else. 

“More like awkward.” You chuckle easily, it's refreshing, like iced tea. 

“Where have you been?” you ask. “Felt like the heat made you disappear or something.”

And of course you had noticed, Satoru thinks, as you pull the glasses to your own face and slip them on. They don’t flatter you at all. 

“Can’t a man be busy?” He doesn’t mean to sound so snappy, but you’re too patient. 

When you look up at him again, he can only see the way your eyebrows raise at his response to your question. 

Your head turns at the sound of someone else walking into the convenience store, Satoru’s does as well. While his neck stretches to the front of the store he watches your hand snatch up the small air conditioner in the corner of his eye. 

“Anyway,” Your voice makes his neck crane back to its original place. “I’m heading back to the store, I don’t want to leave it alone too long with my new employees.” You sigh. 

“You hired people?”

“Yeah. I needed more help around after the rainy season ended, business has been spiking recently.” There’s a proud tilt on your lips. 

“You’re free to come with, you know? I drove here, I could give you a ride.” 

Satoru doesn’t really know what else to do besides watching you pay for the fan he was going to buy and sitting in the passenger seat of your car. 

“I’m back!” you exclaim lightly into your store. There’s a new bell attached to the front of your door that chimes, it sounds better than the old one. 

Two voices overlap each other as you make your way to the cashier and Satoru follows with his hands in his pockets. You set down the plastic bag on the old wooden counter. He notices a new register having been placed ever since he had last visited. 

“Boss!”

“Please tell me you at least found a fan.”

Three figures make their way from the back: the new employees you had quickly told Satoru the names of in the car. They all pause for a second when he meets their eyes. 

“Who’s this?” Nobara asks. 

You look over to Satoru, as if having forgotten he was standing there all together. “Just a friend. Introduce yourself, Satoru.”

Before he can, the one with black hair: Megumi, speaks up. “I know you.” The boy says accusingly. “You always ordered the worst coffees at my last job, they were a pain to make,” he grits out.

Satoru smiles sweetly. “Always feels great to be remembered.”

It makes the other only scowl further, while Yuji looks between the two of them.

“You’re too handsome to just be a friend. Was that some sick way of rejecting him just now?” Nobara says bluntly. It makes you laugh. 

You change the subject by patting the plastic bag still in front of you, the thud of the cardboard box catching the attention of all of them. 

“You three set this up for me, ok? I’m going to stock what you guys weren’t able to with Satoru.”

A string of affirmations make their way through the room as Satoru and you leave to the back.

The back of the store seems to be the same as it was the first time he had exchanged books with you. That same window is there, you are pushing the same loud gray cart, and most importantly: Satoru is still not quite sure how he has ended up here. 

The only difference is the sun, the lack of pitter pattering rain. Dust is highlighted by the strong dusk, he can see the copper shadows of your arm as you line book after book into its shelves. The sound of hard covers rubbing against each other meets his ears just as fast as the words that leave your lips. 

“You do know you can come see me when it isn’t raining, right?”

Another book is shelved, arm extended, fingers curving around a spine. 

“I—”

“Because it really is funny how I’ve only ever seen you while the weather’s shit.”

Your rings blink at him through rays, they twinkle.

“I thought you loved the rain.” Satoru leans into the bookshelf you’re working and catches your eye. 

You scoff at him, you're finding this very funny, like Satoru is missing out on a big joke. 

"Of course I do." 

“Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s just—” You put away the last novel and then move to push the cart behind you: resting your forearms on it while leaning just the slightest bit away from him. You are standing at an angle Satoru is happily willing to lean into even more, almost caging you in. 

You whisper, “I think I’d like seeing you in the sun.”

You pause.  “I think your hair would look even nicer—your eyes too, if that wasn’t already obvious—and I have this feeling you like popsicles more than ice cream. Which is great, because there’s this popsicle stand not too far from here but they’re only ever open during the summer—when it isn’t raining.”

Stunned, Satoru pushes the word through his throat. “You think?”

“I know.” A little louder than the last, more conviction. 

There’s a light in your eyes that grows as the cart that has been holding your weight begins to roll away from all of the pressure. Your arms lose their support behind them, making you trip trying to catch yourself while falling backwards. Satoru’s infinity subsides, like storm clouds parting away. He reaches an arm around your waist just in time to catch you. 

He is breathless. And not because of your beauty, or because of the near fall; but because you are laughing. 

He does not know what else to do but kiss the stars from your lips, to laugh an apology into you, to stamp a promise of another night falling asleep next to you. 

Satoru wants to watch the sun rise with you this time. 

#i cannot believe how much i think about this fic still #im still so proud of it and that used to happen very rarely #anyway enjoy my lovelies! i hope yall like it! #moss writes #jjk x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader

[simp999]

A New Home Ch. 28

Various! Splatoon Manga x Skilled! Isekai'd! Reader

Wc: 1k

A/N: Gloves looks so much better this time I hated how I drew him last banner www

Back to the Start! Previous Next

Your smile only widens at the whole 'aren't you the special reserve?' line, knowing what Rider truly had planned. He really was good at this whole deception thing. This match was packed with action, there were many notes to take. Of course, Emperor likely wouldn't fall for the same move twice- but it goes to show what he's best at predicting. This game isn't all about reading your opponent's actions and adapting, it's about reading, predicting, and being able to adapt before actions take place. Guessing properly. Knowing that if somebody fliches towards one direction even a little how the whole following 10 seconds may play out. Seeing it many, many steps ahead.

It was hard to explain, but you believed that you and your team were slowly making it to that point- if not already there. Seeing plays happen before it even crossed the opponent's mind. Seeing their best option, knowing what they're gonna do next, and intercepting.

One thing that was obvious but you realized could be a liability was how diligent and precise they were. There was no room for mistakes- or rather, they were unsure of how to deal with them because of how used to perfection they are. There is absolutely no chaos. They freeze in the face of disarray.

You scribble down a few more notes as the match comes to an end, shutting your manual with a quiet thump. You quickly glance over at Prince who's analyzing his past opponents, slowly going through character development right in front of you. It's interesting to be able to know what's going on behind the scenes and in character's heads as things play out, really.

It's annoying sometimes, though. You can't help but worry about how fake this all feels, or how you might be in a coma or something. It feels too real. Not to mention; what if other characters found out? Canon as well as non-canon ones? Would you be hated? They'd be skeptical at the very least, right?

No, you've done a good job with cover-ups up until this point. Living in Calamary county, running from home- it was all realistic and added up to a good backstory, right? You'd be fine, you're sure.

You rub the bridge of your nose and lightly shake your head before huffing as you stand up. You needed a mental break. If you remember correctly, Goggles and Gloves' battle was next, so that could be the perfect time to relax and possibly have a laugh or two.

Off The Hook announces the quarter finals- wait, weren't these supposed to be the semis? Something must have changed given your team entering. No big issue, things have all gone just as the manga has predicted it, so there's no need to worry.

You make your way out of the stands out to Deca Tower, having to wait a bit for your teammates to catch up. You couldn't blame them, being with their idols; but it seemed the S4 was trailing along once again. Nothing better to do, you suppose. You tease the idea of them wanting to be around you,- Aloha's quick to wink at that and shoot you some finger guns, but is quickly cut off by you saying that surely it's because they're looking forward to more of your... "fun" training. Skull's the only one who doesn't seem to inwardly panic at your words, tilting his head. As airheaded as always, that sweetheart.

You do a small stretch, your body not being a fan of sitting still for too long. You let out a soft groan before going over to the board to remind yourself where the next battle takes place. With one hand on your hip, you trail a finger along the board, looking for your timing. You eventually find it and your team and the S4 are off to watch the next match.

Leo's quick to say hi to Rider and find some seats nearby, and you offer a lazy wave and smile before sitting down. Tasha's surprisingly quick to sit next to Bamboo and begin some small talk. Now that's new. But you're proud of her, not dwelling on it too much. The two keep their voices low, as expected of them- it seems they're talking about weapons or something.

The match begins, and you can't help but smile at all the shenanigans. You forgot how fun and easy-going matches could be; being so used to salty, aggressive, and rude opponents. You lean your cheek into your palm and chuckle at Half-Rim's "four-eyes" comment. He seems so serious all the time, you think it adds to the humor. You enjoy the back-and-forth banter, and even enjoy the shouts from Leo, unsure whether to cheer for Bobble Hat or Gloves. It seems he has some bias towards Gloves, though... you can't blame him, he must be happy to have a "bro" (more of a fanboy-turned-friend, but that doesn't matter now).

"As always, I have no idea if he's amazing or just stupid,"

Ah, so this is when that iconic line was said. Hah, nice.

You look down at the battle before you. Each member has a smile written across their face, and you're beginning to rethink how they could take down Team Monarch. 'Realistically, back in my world, it would make no sense. Those main character powers sure are something. Or, well- Goggles seems to be a very amiable guy, so there's that too.'

You look around at his other teammates, admiring each one and their own strategies.

'He surrounds himself with good people, too.'

You shift from your palm to your knuckles to lean on, watching the battle continue to play out.

'He never did end up swaying Mask, so maybe it's not all about being a main character, but having a good heart? Wonder if that's why so many people follow along with him and enjoy his presence.'

Unbeknownst to you, you have a few pairs of eyes on you for all the same reasons.

.

.

.

Feb.7.24

Next Part

#x reader #fanfic #splatoon manga #splatoon #coroika #splatoon manga x reader #splatoon 2 #splatoon 3 #splatoon manga gloves #splatoon manga goggles #splayoon manga gloves x reader #goggles coroika #gloves coroika #emperor coroika #splatoon manga emperor #splatoon manga emperor x reader

[papaver-decervicatus]

“Under No Circumstances…”

How Farah ended up just beneath Gromsko and Soap on the “Under No Circumstances Allowed to Use a Rocket Launcher” list. 1.5K words, rated Teen, Gromsko POV.

CW: Medical Procedures, The Lord of the Flies (awful I know).

A/N. This is just a quick silly Drabble between the three because Gromsko does not get enough love in the fandom! Thanks to everyone who enjoys the headcanon pages I put out, your enthusiasm has really inspired me!

The nearest table is littered with palpable annoyances, from gauges in the fake wood where one Simon Riley stabbed hunting knives in frustration (which, in his defense, it would be rather frustrating to wake up to pissed in tac-boots, offender still at large,) to pen-marks scribbling in games of tic-tac-toe between Reyes and Chuy (which culminate in a perfect 5 win, to 5 draws, to 5 win ratio,) and even a perfectly Kleo shaped bite mark (she was overdue on her shots and that never goes over well,) out of the bottom left corner. The sound of tweezers hitting a small glass vial consistently rings out, along with the gentle splutter of matter dropping into alcohol.

On Farah’s abdomen, there is a 3-inch gash, approximately 1.25 centimeters deep. It was made by a shrapnel blast that cut through her gear, pieces of cloth and metal remain to be picked out. Her head is nestled in the area just beneath Soap’s crotch on the table. Gaz sits cross-legged beneath the table that she and Soap recline on. Her hair cascades downwards into Gaz’s soft and patient hands, idly doing then undoing her trailing braid. Soap prattles endlessly while holding her shoulders down.

“And then, the fucking eejits go huntin’ it. Goes to show, Brits and their violence…” He sneers and Gaz huffs.

“They are like. Thirteen, mate. The book’s a satire for Chrissake!” Gaz responds. Farah winces when he pulls on her hair a little too hard, and he apologizes with a hushed ‘Oh, sorry.’

“They worship a pig's head on a stick the way you worship your damn Queen, Garrick. No fucking satire to me.”

Gromsko continues his work, picking debris out of the wound, as the two men continue to bicker animatedly about their latest disagreement (and since when did Soap care about British literature, or The Lord of the Flies?)

“How much longer?” Farah wheezes underneath the disagreement above her.

Gromsko takes one last look through his surgical loops. The wound appears to have nothing foreign left in it. He hums in satisfaction at his work.

“Not much, Kochanie.” Gromsko soothes in the sort of quiet voice he summons on instinct when working with Farah. Something in the furrow of her brow always tells him she would appreciate a quiet sort of kindness, that is, when she even allows herself to be helped. She seems thankful when she throws her head back into Soap’s crotch and his rant is cut short by a winded noise. Gaz falls over laughing at the realization she’s just headbutted him in his… particulars. Gromsko takes the opportunity of her momentary levity to catch her unawares with the first stitch.

It’s been approximately 38 minutes since a dazed Farah was rushed into his makeshift office with a frazzled Soap. In between explanations of a misfired explosive, frantic apologies to the woman hanging off his shoulder, and labored insistences that she receives stitches, Gromsko barely gave the two time to blink before he had sprung out of his cot and had started laying out his supplies. Within 4 minutes, the wound was assessed. Within 3 minutes of the assessment, Soap had dragged a still groggy Gaz to Farah’s side saying something about Alex’s preference that he be there should she get hurt. Gromsko paid it very little mind as he typically did. Anything to make a patient more comfortable.

The wound was far from life-threatening in any sense of the word. It was, however, in a position where standard stitches would likely get ripped from friction with tac-gear. A medium-level challenge, but certainly no challenge at all to a medic like Gromsko.

“You are doing well, Farah.” He says. She turns her head in frustration at the lingering pain as he goes in for the third and what will likely be 17 total stitches. “Do not fall asleep on me, kotku,” he smiles when her face scrunches in disgust. “Concussion protocol.” She sighs.

“There is nothing kitten about this situation, medic.” Farrah spits, Soap keeps his hands on her shoulders to prevent her from bucking upwards to claw at Gromsko, now rethreading a suture needle.

“There is, this scratch, it is a kitten’s scratch. It will heal easily.”

The encouragement seems to lighten her mood. When Gromsko tunes back into Gaz and Soap’s conversation, he elects to immediately zone back out when Soap tries to swat at the man beneath him for implying he couldn’t read.

She yells something at the two, and while Gromsko does not know any Arabic, he figures he knows what it means when the two immediately stop their horseplay and go back to bickering, albeit at a much quieter level.

With the distraction of Gaz and Soap, Farah’s stitches go by much quicker than she seems to have suspected. Gromsko makes use of one of his medic tricks (the one his old commander taught him about squeezing the flesh 4 inches to the left of the wound to calm the patient) and much like a kitten, Farah does indeed soothe.

Her whole face brightens when Gromsko finishes the last stitch and goes to toss out his sterile gloves.

“Ya done, doc?” Soap asks, hopeful as ever.

“Hmph,” he nods his head. Gaz scrambles off the floor and examines the stitches on Farah’s abdomen. He lets out a quick whistle in appreciation.

“All that in under an hour? You’re a magic man, Gromsko.” He gives a curt nod which Gromsko returns. Gromsko goes to the metal folding chair that was holding part of his supplies and tenderly picks up Farah’s shirt (which Soap had folded perfectly while awaiting medical instruction,) and hands it to her. She smiles and shrugs it on.

“I am sure I don’t need to inform you of heading instructions, do I?” He asks, his sarcasm unusually quiet. Farah just gives a dry laugh.

“I’ve been through worse.” She claims, chest full of pride. She’s always one of the worse to corral into medical attention, he’s learned from his months with SpecGru. She wears battle scars like medals and hates to admit to anyone, even a medic, that she may need any special treatment. He’s just happy she let him get to the wound at all.

“But-“ her face visably sours as he continues. “Concussion protocol, no sleep for the next 6 hours.”

She sends an irritated look to Soap and Gaz who both put their hands up in defeat, likely aware of what happened the last time someone didn’t listen to the man’s medical demands. (If Ghost wasn’t pulling his stitches out all the time, maybe, just maybe, those tac boots of his wouldn’t have gotten the treatment that they did… not that Gromsko knows anything about it, of course.)

“I have sentry in 4 hours,” Gaz offers weakly, genuine sadness in his voice that whether or not he wants to, he will be unable to care for his friend through the duration of her mandatory awake period.

“Fine. Sleep. And if Alex is back by then, tell him I ordered you to leave.” Farah says, voice firmly intoned back into its comfortable commanding sound. Gaz gives a faux salute and leaves with the haste of a man who’s forgotten what a bed looks like for months checking into a hotel room. Soap looks at Farah expectantly.

“You too-“ She starts.

“Nope.” He finishes.

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean ‘no.’ I’m not leaving yer side until you can rest. Not gonna happen.” He shrugs nonchalantly. Ever the faithful soldier, no man or recently-concussed-woman left behind.

Farah looks at Gromsko, apparently expecting him to save her from being babysat. He laughs louder than he has all night. He feels the tension of the situation melt away as he returns to his usual volume.

“Don’t look at me like that, kotku,” she mocks throwing up at the pet name, “I would order him to as well. You do not have a good track record of listening to doctors orders.” She pouts much like a child denied a night home alone with her friends when her parents are away. It reminds Gromsko of an argument his older sister got into with his mother when he was 13. Farah smiles the same way as that sister, she shows the same amount of teeth, he noticed. “Alex is not here. Soap will do.”

Farah looks entirely displeased by this assessment and brings a hand to thumb at the bottom of her now French braided hair. “We’ve finished all of our assignments before we went out. What is there to do?”

Gromsko looks to the armory outside.

Gromsko looks to Soap. Soap looks to Gromsko.

Soap looks in the direction of an unattended car he is more than capable of hot wiring.

Gromsko looks to the direction that the abandoned training maze that Price put a demolition order for.

Gromsko and Soap look to Farah.

“Doncha worry Bonnie,” Soap smiles the way fire meets Gasoline. Gromsko is already putting his fire-resistant jacket onto her shoulders and ushering Farah out the door. “We got just the thing.”

-

When two days later Alex returns from his own assignment and asks why there is now a large picture of Farah, Gromsko, and Soap outside the armory with the inscription “UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ARE ROCKET LAUNCHERS ALLOWED TO THESE THREE.” Gromsko just laughs in his face.

“Anything for a patients comfort.” He supplies as though it makes perfect sense. Alex’s frown displays his confusion, but Gromsko is not one to give away the secrets of another.

When he got scolded by an irate Price the day before, Gromsko just remembered Farah’s smile with fire reflecting in her eyes 6 hours previous when he and Soap were put on toilet scrubbing duty.

He remembers that smile now, as Alex stares him down while he walks away.

Worth it.

#cod gromsko #gromsko cod #cod mw fanfiction #farah karim #farah Karim cod #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod #soap mctavish #john soap mactavish #soap cod #cod mwii #navigation -> headcanon tag

[daegall]

hyuck as your secret highschool admirer. imagine him leaving soft confessions notes in your locker, withoit revealing his actual identity. once, your friend finds a ticket where he asked you to meet him after classes but they lost it on their way to show it to you, so you never found out about the ticket. uNTIL HE WAS BRAVE ENOUGH TO COME TO YOU AND TELL YOU THAT HE WAITED FOR YOU. And you're like 'what' aND HE TELLS YOU THAT HE PUT IT INSIDE YOUR LOCKER AND ALL AND THEN YOU LOVE HIM AND BAM KISS AND NEW COUPLE.

FUCKK CHIP YOUR MIND.

we need more of this!!!!!!!!!!!

hyuck as one of yoru friends, too scared ot tell you his feelings but is also eager to tell you his feelings, what better way to do it than in the form of an anonymous admirer?

you met in chemistry, where you became lab partners for a project, and you two had a kind of bond right of the bat, one that Donghyuck wouldn't be able to find anywhere else.

You're shocked when you open your locker, only to fine a yellow post it note with encouraging words and a strangely familiar hand writing, and you definitely can't help the smile that creeps on your face at the words. You know this secret admirer as a bear, as that's always what they seem to draw to sign off, along with a heart or star.

At first it starts off with morning 'good luck with classes!' notes and 'I'll be rooting for you!', but when he realizes you leave a note back for him saying how grateful you are, and how much it helps you through your day, his heart flips and he has the urge to do more!!!!!

In which he does, he gets you occasional snacks or a paper bouquet of flowers, and longer notes, telling you about his day or very encouraging words when you seem off.

after weeks of back and forth notes and flirting, Donghyuck decides to finally tell you, scribbling messily on a notes to come meet him out in the field, under the bleachers.

One day, you have Yoo Jimin put back your notebook in your locker after she borrowed it for some notes, but the moment the locker door swings open, the post it falls out, and she reads it, panicking. Oh god, she invaded your space. Should she tell you? What should she do?

In the end, she messages you a quick 'Call me!!!!!' with extra exclamation marks and emojis to express the urgency of the news, but a moment later she gets her phone confiscated for using her phone without permission from a teacher (which is a dumb rule.)

Donghyuck panics when you don't meet him under the bleachers at your assigned time, wondering if you didn't like him back, or you felt too scared. Despite that, he still stays, hoping you'd come.

AND YOURE PANICKING BC OF JIMIN'S TEXTS LMFAOOOO

A few hours after that, as you're looking for Jimin, you bump into Donghyuck, quite literally, but he catches you before you could tumble down.

"Hyuck," You breathe out, "I'm so sorry,"

"No, no, it's alright. I understand why you wouldn't want to meet up."

You're confused at his words, worried at his upset tone and the frown on his lips. "Hey, what's wrong?"

and then he rants out the truth, how he's the secret bear admirer of yours, how much he's liked you, and how he understands why you wouldn't like him back.

The thing is though, you're completely in love with him too.

You've always hoped it was Donghyuck, his familiar messy handwriting sending your heart into a frenzy just wondering if it was him.

Before he can go on, you lean down to press your lips against his cheek, before bumping a small kiss by his chin, and you laugh. "Lee Donghyuck you listen to me! I like you! I like you so much, it's actually so crazy,"

And then you two are def the best couple on campus no lie.

soft hours : open

#asks! #chip <3 #soft hours! #soft hours open! #lee donghyuck #haechan! #sunny thinks! :: about haechan </3 #lee donghyuck imagines #lee donghyuck x reader #lee donghyuck fluff #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff

[giggleeclown]

Have some skelebros tickle headcanons under the cut because fuckblr sucked the tickle content out of undertale (mostly lee!Papyrus and I’m salty)

Sans: ler leaning switch

Want to tickle him? Go for it! He doesn’t mind, especially if he’s been having poor sleep or he’s been feeling blue. He appreciates the attention as long as it’s not in public.

Loves others’ laughter, especially his little brother’s.

Is fully aware of the fact that his bony fingers are cold and hard and therefore more tickly

Laughs along with you, as well as teases you and never forgets to throw out plenty of puns

Enjoys being tickled for a moment, but you HAVE to stop soon it due to how weak his body is

Isn’t that ticklish, but his senses are heightened due to his low HP. He tolerates it less than papyrus because of this even if he isn’t as sensitive.

Loves to show off how he can raspberry without lungs or lips

Has a very harsh wheeze to his laugh, especially when you get him in the right spot

If you get him just right, he’ll snort!

Laughs always start off with “pffffft!-“

Easily tears up with laughter

Often tickles Papyrus to cheer him up, and has been doing so since they were little, as well as the other way around

Since he’s not too ticklish, he’ll lay lazily and sleepily squirm away.

He typically laughs with the casual “heheheh” but if you get him around his hips or inside of his ribs, he full on belly laughs.

He enjoys the attention, but he’s fragile when his ler is on the offense. Once he gets his stamina back, however, be prepared for retaliation… unless he falls asleep from fatigue.

Is easy to restrain and tickle since he’s so small, but is hard to keep contained due to his teleportation and low resistance.

He won’t intentionally put himself in a position to get himself tickled too often, but there are admittedly a few times where he will annoy papyrus to get a few pokes. It’s almost always immediate regret, though.

He really likes tickle fights due to the mutual effort. Besides, it’s perfect pun material. Especially if it’s with papyrus.

He loves to bully little kids with tickles (to a lighthearted extent of course) because they can’t get away

Isn’t a fan of being restrained. It can put him into a panic and trigger bad memories. Tickle him on his own terms.

He needs rougher tickles to invoke laughter out of him (squeezing his knees, fast scribbles, kneading hips and ribs) but do not be harsh to him. Find a way to be gentle because he will need to tap out quick.

He isn’t much of a squirmer, another reason you don’t have to pin him. Due to his weak stamina he may even lock up into paralysis.

If you want to tickle him for long periods of time and he agrees to it, give him lots of little breaks or do it on a day where he has more energy. He may fall asleep the moment you stop.

Romantic tickles/tickly kisses absolutely MELT him. To give OR receive.

He enjoys gentle wake up tickles.

He dishes out puns while giving and receiving tickles, he can’t help himself.

If you want to tickle him in ways he’ll appreciate, skitters up and down his face, back, hips and shoulders make him happy. Gentle tickles make him smile and chuckle a little, and because they’re not super strong he gets sleepy.

Primary lees are papyrus, Toriel, frisk, primary lers… are… the same people!

God forbid someone (especially a romantic partner) calls him little cutesy variants of ‘sans’ as they tickle him. That’s the END OF HIM.

He always stops tickling the second someone says, though he may want to continue the second you regain composure

His big weak points are his ribcage, shoulders, hips, underarms, back and knees.

Papyrus: Lee leaning switch

Oh my god. Where do I even begin?! He is SO ticklish.

Is embarrassed to admit his ticklishness…

He secretly loves tickles to cheer him up, but he plays it off like they’re an annoyance. (Funny, because he’s smiling so wide at the end of them)

Very squeaky spastic giggly laughter. Loud, too, unlike his brother’s soft wheezes and snorts.

Like his loud talking voice, he’s prone to going into scream territory if you hit a sweet spot.

His worst spot is his spine, specifically the front and sides of it, where his belly would be if he had one

Is VERY embarrassed by tickles, unlike his brother, who takes them nonchalantly (unless it’s in public). …that doesn’t mean he likes them any less though.

Has lots of good memories relating to tickling because of how much sans went ‘big brother tickle monster mode’ on him as a babybones

Cannot STAND teases. Childish teases get him the worst, and he’s practically reduced to tears by baby talk.

Though his laugh is filled with ‘NYEH HEH HEHs’, he has a completely different laugh when he’s laughing genuinely. Lots of giggles and titters. He can shift from his usual laugh to “NYAHAHAHA!” And “EEEHEEEHEE!” In a few seconds.

He is an absolute squeaky toy. Squeeze him and he will certainly let out a high pitched noise.

Papyrus has this problem where he is VERY squirmy unlike his brother… but he doesn’t get anywhere. He’s so tall and he can’t get away from the shortest person. He will just wiggle around and squirm in the most useless (but adorable) ways

His favorite tickle tactics and the ones that work on him the most are ways you would tickle little kids. Tickle games and rhymes like round and round the garden, teasy voice, raspberries and nibbles, baby talk, counting his ribs/toes (one that really gets him) or anything of this manner. He never grew out of liking them because sans gave him so many positive memories of them, so he will give these kinds of tickles and loves receiving them regularly.

Papyrus loves to administer platonic tickly kisses to his close friends.

His gloves are soft and a nice texture that doesn’t irritate the skin. Tickling bare skin with his gloves is very effective! However, if he takes his gloves off, the cold bony texture of his fingers gives a completely different but equally amazing texture. He eventually realizes this and if he is ‘sparring’ you with tickles he will keep one glove off and one on for double sensitivity

He will bring up how amazingly easy it was to ‘capture you’ and tickle you during a fight and begin to gloat. It is not intentional teasing, but it is affective to many.

He can lift you up and tickle you if he is taller than you! (Hey undertale fandom? Papyrus isn’t that tall. Look at the sprite height chart. He’s average male height he’s like 5’8. Thanks.) he thinks it’s pretty fun and cute, too!

On the contrary, anyone of any height can pick papyrus up because of how light he is. (He is Just bones lol and this obviously goes for sans as well). Paps actually enjoys being picked up (as much as he tries to counteract that argument) and it doesn’t happen to him a lot. The tickles are a bonus.

Papyrus loves to be tickled by those who are taller than him, especially toriel. She treats him like her own child and coos at him to his hearts content.

One of the reasons paps likes tall lers is he actually likes to be restrained. It makes the tickles way stronger when he can fully let loose without fear of kicking someone because of how wiggly he is.

That shower of kisses? It tickles.

He oftentimes tickles sans in revenge for all the tickles sans dishes out, as well as to wake him up and make him feel better if he’s down.

He will swing/spin you around when tickling you as long as you like it and aren’t sans! (He loves that kind of tickling too!)

He LOVES to find your tickle spots and consider them weak points for ‘battle’.

He does the gentle tickles that put sans to sleep

Teases surprisingly well, but not often intentionally

His primary lees and lers are the same as sans’, except Undyne added as a (most of the time) ler. Mettaton as well!

His big weak points are his spine (tummy area), neck, feet, underarms, ribs and hips.

Hcs that compare/contrast or apply to both of them…

Sans will admit he’s ticklish, Papyrus will not.

Sans genuinely despises baby talk and childish tickle methods, while papyrus loves them.

Papyrus is more ticklish than sans, but he can withstand tickling for longer because he has more hp

Papyrus likes lighter skittery tickles, but sans needs rougher tickles to laugh.

Papyrus’ signature laugh quirk is his squeal, while sans snorts. However sometimes they swap. Papyrus snorts more than sans squeals though.

Papyrus can’t stand anticipation. He will be screaming before you touch him. Sans, however, is more tolerant, but will jump a foot in the air when the tickles hit

Sans’ laughter is more likely to go silent, while papyrus will lock up into paralysis (after long periods of tickling)

Papyrus loves to be pinned down and restrained, while sans goes into fight or flight if you pin him.

Papyrus Likes to be tossed, spun and held when tickled, but sans can’t tolerate it because of his weakened system

Sans likes to be tickled awake, Papyrus likes to be tickled to sleep. (Goodnight tickles when he gets read his bedtime story, hehehe)

Both like platonic/romantic tickly kisses!

They love each others’ laughs

Papyrus puts a lot of effort into his tickle attacks, while sans is a lazy (but good) ler.

Sans isn’t embarrassed when he snorts, but papyrus HATES his snort. Sans doesn’t like the rare moments that he squeaks, though. Both are a little self conscious of their real laughs, but not enough for it to bother them too bad.

It’s easy to restrain papyrus, but hard to restrain sans

Sans loves to tease, papyrus loves to commentate.

Sans always knows when to stop tickling, but papyrus may accidentally push boundaries without realizing.

Both adore tickle fights with toriel <3

Sans easily tears up during tickle fights, while Papyrus easily blushes.

Despite not being as ticklish, sans’ lack of tickle tolerance usually means he loses the tickle fights. He has to teleport to get away if he wants to win, and only when he can concentrate.

Papyrus Likes to pretend to spar his lee, while sans likes being the tickle monster.

Both skeletons become very sleepy after tickles

Sans only teases and baby talks papyrus

Both of them get cheer up tickles from each other, sans when he’s distressed from resets or poor sleeping habits and papyrus when his lack of friends and accomplishment is hurting him.

Sans fast talks his way through suppressing his laughter, while papyrus covers his mouth

Both very embarrassed by getting tickled around people

Both can’t handle raspberries

One quiet, one loud

Both end their tickle fights in little naps. (Papyrus’ shorter than Sans’)

Auuggh,, I hope you all enjoyed,, ;;

#tickling #ticklish #t content #t word community #t word #t word content #undertale tickle #undertickles #tickle community #undertale tickling #lee!sans #ler!paprus #lee!papyrus #ler!sans #ticklish!sans #ticklish!papyrus #tickle headcanons #tk headcanons #t headcanons

[thatonecrookedsmile]

*kicks the front door with all the strength I have*

WAKE UP, CHILDREN. I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU TO PLAY WITH.

Hey there IRIS fans. It's been a while. More than 3 months to be exact. I came once again to offer you my gifts. Behold…..breadcrumbs! :D

Yeah, that's all I have at the moment. I'm sorry.

I was reflecting on the idea of posting things that are more....small? Don't just post finished drawings. Maybe WIPs or, sketches, or in the case above, a doodle! Basically, I don't need to ONLY post finished drawings. Or drawings. Sometimes I can just. Post words, you know. I had the realization about this a while ago when I remembered that I'm on Tumblr. I can post (almost) anything here without limiting myself. Now, will I fulfill this? I don't know. Maybe I'll do that, or I'll just post it when I have a drawing ready to post. I don't promise anything lol.

Anyway, IRIS! I made this little doodle of Goliath while I was out of the house. I only drew his Pre-Explosion version once and it was in that Transmission 3 drawing. As a joke too. So I tried to do something a little more serious. This time…he has a face! I thought it turned out good. I think I found a good way to do his hair too. I decided to color it (and do a light digital lineart over it) to make it more pleasant. Simple, but it looks nice! (I'll leave the normal scribble unedited at the end of the post) Also, I know that in the only art we have of P.E Goliath it doesn't show him with irises and pupils in his eyes. I drew them here because I thought it would be cool.

Next stop is to practice drawing his body. I have to learn how to draw more muscular bodies. Goliath has to live up to his name (and he deserves the muscles tbh)

It goes without saying that I did this after watching the new chapters of Story of Vegala. And speaking of that: i'm gonna be honest with you: I think this is my favorite part of the IRIS story/lore drops posted so far.

It's quite intriguing to see the very story that happened before everything we've seen so far. It's also nice to receive what I've wanted for a while: Tyrant and Fate Lore. It's good to have more information about two characters that we've known (more or less) for a long time now. Especially their origins (broader origins than just *the first beings that walked the Earth* or *beings that came from distant worlds in search of the emblem*)

SOV also makes me excited for other things. Like, obviously, HOAA:R. Releasing soon! December is knocking on the door, you know. But I also really want to see Jaws of Vegala now. And whatever happens in the story that takes place after GT.

So again, SOV is currently my favorite part of the lore, I believe. The anguish of waiting for the next episodes this past week was real.

I'm talking too much once again, SHIT. Yeah, Pre-Explosion Goliath. He deserves the world (He's NOT a monster, he's just BIG and STRONG, and needs a functioning family *cries*)

I don't know when I'll do my next Big Piece related to IRIS. I had something in mind but I lost the will. But I was thinking about doing something related to Solitude for a while. Hold this thought,then. Until then, I'll sketch Tyrant next. Because I like his official design.

Also, here is the unedited scribble:

#iris official #pre-explosion goliath #goliath iris #will ryan originals #heart of an artist: resurrection #iris: story of vegala #heart of an artist #dagames #crookedsmileart #once again apologizing for writing the next chapter of the bible in the desc #it will happen again #tempted to talk about IRIS here because of the new chapters that were recently released #I have thoughts in my head #and I want to communicate with the community #the community is already very very small anyway #it doesn't hurt to try #Man; I can't wait for the epilogue #(This post is being posted after Chapter 10 was released and the epilogue hasn't come out yet) #(just contextualizing)

[voidfishing]

I am extremely intrigued by your hyperspecific taagnus lore if you feel like expanding 👀

oh absolutely 💚💚 this. turned out to be. insanely long <3

okay so. I think that after they met while joining the IPRE, Magnus became interested in Taako pretty quickly. Taako is handsome and tough and pretty and smart as hell, of course Magnus notices all of that immediately. but I can’t imagine him actively trying to pursue a relationship given the whole, yknow, they’re about to literally leave their planet. he’s got bigger picture things to focus on. but I think they do spend quite a bit of time together. Taako actively seeks him out because, despite how much he pokes fun at him, he does think Magnus is fun and cute and sweet. they get along really well, and I like to think Magnus’ pure optimism and general sweetheart behavior made him the first member of the IPRE to really get to spend quality time with Taako without Lup present.

and then I think. there was definitely some light flirting on Taako’s end that was very casual. not super forward or anything, just little things like slightly-more-affectionate pet names or passive compliments that indicated he was paying close attention. and Magnus picked up on maybe half of it. the rest of the time he was like “man Taako’s such a nice guy. what a good friend.” and meanwhile Taako was pulling his hair out going “how is he not in love with me yet I’m being so alluring”

and this dynamic continued for a little while. they got closer. the stolen century actually began. and I think things stayed that way for a handful of cycles, because I don’t feel like either of them would be super focused on starting a relationship while trying to navigate their new lives. but I do think they got closer and closer as teammates and began to rely on each other more, which neither of them placed any extra emphasis on because they were growing closer with everyone else too.

and then I think their relationship started building again a little less than a decade into the century. they’d gotten used to the pattern and their new life, they had a better grasp on the entire situation. and I think they started to lean on each other more and more. Magnus would come to Taako to vent or theorize or talk about their home, and Taako would pick up on the fact that he was seeking comfort and offer it to him, usually through small gestures like making him something to eat and patting him on the shoulder while they talked. Taako would eventually start doing the same sort of thing, showing up to Magnus’ room just to sit quietly when he was struggling in some way and needed to be near someone else. and Magnus would be so sweet and careful about offering him support without hurting his ego, which Taako definitely appreciated.

so. I think things went on like that for a bit and they just continued to get closer and more reliant on one another. and then one day Magnus is sitting in Taako’s room watching him scribble out plans for dodging the hunger and it suddenly strikes him that he’s in love with him. and he says it. and Taako just stops what he’s doing and looks and him and goes “did we not already know this?” & naturally Magnus is a little surprised that Taako recognized his own feelings before him, but he doesn’t have time to worry about that before Taako kisses him.

and I think they date for a while. they work well together and understand how to support one another. they’re a good team!! and both of them are able to find a certain kind of shelter with each other, feeling safe and loved despite facing the end of the world annually. it’s not always easy, but they make a point to work things out when it gets hard.

I don’t really have a timeline for how long they’re officially dating, but I think by the fiftieth cycle, things have changed a little bit. not in a bad way, there’s just been a shift in their dynamic that has changed the way their relationship looks; they’re no longer calling themselves boyfriends, but they’re still super familiar with and supportive of each other. I don’t think they really label the dynamic but they’ve essentially just naturally shifted into being queer platonic partners. they’re technically exes but no one would guess that from seeing them interact. they love each other so much

and oh boy. after the stolen century, after losing their memories, after being (unbeknownst to them) reunited. I think Taako is a little interested in this handsome human he’s working with. the guy’s a little dense but it’s sort of charming to him! Magnus thinks the elf he’s traveling with is very pretty, but he’s not exactly planning on dating anyone anytime soon. he wants to be good buds! and so over the course of their time with the BOB they get closer and a little more intimate with each other, but never to the point of potentially dating. there’s love there and it feels rather platonic for both of them.

and then they get their memories back. and I think it takes Taako a very long time to talk to Magnus about any of it. which is probably a good thing, it gives them both time to digest everything they've been through, and I think their friendship starts to deepen again once they do talk about their history. the love they had lost is back and only reinforced by the fact that they managed to cultivate such a meaningful relationship even without those memories. they eventually get back to where they were during the stolen century, although that takes a couple of years. their relationship is defined by mutual love and they look out for each other as they navigate living (sort of) normal lives

#I literally. ok. uhm. well. that was a lot this is rather long. honestly didn’t think I had this much to say about them. I . okay! #SO. YEAH. here you go <3 #it’s uhm. past 1 am now . goodnight !! #toon talking #taagnus #text #asks #long post #headcanons #tumblr REALLY doesn’t want this under a readmore I’m so fucking sorry it keeps deleting chunks. oh my god.

[pecadosarepiling]

How did Dani end up at the Lounge?

While yes her dear Seilos is also a patron there, he was not the one to introduce to the Zabrak beauty to the others.

@storm89 @pixiestookourstardust @eyecandyeoz @by-the-primes @gran-maul-seizure @stardustbee

No, this began when Danica in search of knowledge and with a clever knack of sneaking into places sat in on the lectures of one Professor Vorka’adan, to no surprise one of the only Chiss members of the faculty. A hue of blue that reminded her of ocean water and black hair with a distinct streak of gray. Danica always glanced towards him. A set of glasses always perched about his nose. He was handsome Dancia admitted to herself, then again she did have a penchant for eyeing Chiss.

His classes were small, however the lecture halls were more than abundant in their space, Danica took to hiding away in the back. Scribbling away notes. She listened with great interest to what the Chiss Professor had to share. Oh how envious she was of the enrolled students…

She was found out at the end of the second week.

“This is not one of the courses that could be audited, Miss.” it was another of the students who more or less sneered at the zabrak. “Professor, you have a unneeded guest.”

Danica glared at the student who walked past with a triumphant smile.

The Professor walked over as Danica stepped out, discovered she was. “Miss I fear we must ask you…”

He looked at her, he had met Irodians…but this young woman. Bright red and with even darker red markings upon her face. A arrangement horns underneath soft curls, he would claim it was more as if she had a ivory crown. She was lovely…

“I meant no harm.” She apologies in Chenuh. Her voice was like velvet. Smooth and alluring.

“You speak Chenuh!” His gaze softened. A beauty and versed in such a language?

She smiles gently, “ A friend taught me…I do apologize sir, I just wanted to hear more. I know it’s not allowed but i just wanted to know.” She showed him her notes. Beautiful written and with annotations and questions all arranged. Truly a scholar. He dare say she would make a great assistant and of course a note taker for the advanced courses.

He would not wish to deprive such a hungry mind but rules were rules.

“You could enroll the next semester.” He attempted. “It’s too late for you to enroll at this time.”

Her smile cast into a frown, “ I am not a student here.”

“That’s very unfortunate.”

Her frown lingered and she took the notebook, “ Thank you Professor, it was nice while it lasted.”

“Wait miss…”

She turned back from the doorway, eyes bright and hopeful, “ perhaps you can be the class note taker…enrollment would not be required.”

She smile at that, a little half smile that set the day right.

“Well then if it’s possible I should introduce myself, Miss Danica Oppress.”

——

The student who had so confidently discovered Danica was stunned to see the young woman seated in front. How?!

“Everyone, Miss Oppress will be our class notetaker, do not assume that means you are excused from taking notes yourselves. She is doing so in behalf of student accommodations, but should you have a question it is likely she has it written down. “

Danica shot the student a smirk before giving everyone else a sweet smile.

“Oh she’s a cute one.”

“Hello Miss Oppress…”

—-

“Two of your students already asked me out.” She told him as she turned in a copy of the notes. Impeccable work.

“My they work fast.”

“Poor things were so disappointed to learn I’m married.” She said nonchalantly turning to a new page for notes.

“You’re married.” He repeated, trying not to let disappointment cloud it.

“I can say I’m married…” she said with a sigh.

Troubles marriage? What could it be?

“Should you ever feel want to share I’m here to listen.”

—-

Their relationship was steady, a flourishing friendship that consisted of deep discussions Over the lecture material as well as a bottle of wine decanted so the two could vent.

Ka’adan had learned much about Danica and not much at all. The biggest being…she could say she was married but that was the extent.

A fool to leave her. That was what he gathered.

He gave a comforting chat and a shoulder for her to rest on.

—-

It was a vintage wine and enthralling discussion over the literature that lead to a less than planned moment of passion.

Neither resisted and before they could stop themselves their clothes were all about Ka’-Adans office. Danica moaned as she was bent over his desk.

The sound of the desk scrapping slightly against the floor was telling…

He was atop her. Kissing her shoulders and thrusting his hips.

Friends with benefits became the term they used.

—-

It was after this encounter that Ka’adan learned that Danica’s appetite for the flesh was very much in need.

Take notes. Review. A drink sometimes, having a good bout of sex and call it a afternoon….

It was a fine arrangement…

“Really why don’t you enroll?” He has wanted to ask as she seemed to have no qualms about faculty.

“Tuition…rent…” a shy look, “ I’m trying to get funds.” A blush. “The holonet is lucrative.”

It took him only a few moments to realize what she meant. He felt only slightly ashamed to look it up later. Truly lucrative…

“ I can help, a scholarship for someone like you would be helpful.”

She knew he meant her previous academics, the Star pupil, always rivaling that boy he hears so much about, Ava, she would say with such sorrow.

A first love?

She geared toward humor, “ Oh Ka’adan I don’t think giving professors good blowjobs would suffice for a academic scholarship.”

The Chiss blushes purple, “ Danica! You know very well I don’t mean that.”

She laughed, “I know I know.”

He sighed, “ I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”

She smiles at him, thank you on her lips.

——

“Here..” a box is presented to her, it’s contents have her gasping. A beautiful blue Satin gown….

“You shouldn’t have!”

“If you wish you can wear it tonight. There’s a place I want to take you too.” Ka’adaan waits as she prepares. As he knew it she looked beautiful beyond compare.

“Ah black tie? Truly you are spoiling me tonight .”

—-

The Lounge was all it was referred to, with a non descript building entrance and a elevator to take you to the main lobby. Danica was in awe. As if walking past in time. The art deco of gold elements and fan designs on the walls.

Where was Ka’adan taking her?

“Welcome Vorka’adan, we have been expecting you. Is this your guest you’ve been mentioning?” The host asked.

Danica felt her jaw drop slightly, another chiss?

“Yes, Awen this is Miss Danica. I suspect the other guests are here?”

“Yes right this way.”

—

A set of ornate doors and Danica is transported far away into a lounge. Glamor and the grandeur of the decor had her taken back. It was also the guests that had her mesermized…the familiar red eyes glowing and shades of blue all about. They dined and chatted at luxurious booths. Delicate glasses set upon tables…

“Everyone here is chiss?!” She whispered.

“Well mostly…there’s some special guests that are regulars. Possibly if you like tonight maybe even you?”

She glanced everywhere. Thankful for the dark red of her skin. A blush was bubbling. So many handsome chiss…

“Come along, there’s some Id like for you to meet.”

—-

To say the meeting was a triumph was an understatement. Danica was dazzling the guests with her perfect use of Chenuh and challenging more than one chiss to a debate.

“Ka’adan, truly did not do you justice. We thought he made you up!”

“I must admit Miss Oppress you are truly a gem.”

Danica was giddy. Getting compliments and praise from the group of Chiss. It did not help that she also continued to have champagne. The delicate flute emptying once more and her flirting becoming more and more heavy.

Danica started innocently, and with more champagne her flirtations becoming more pronounced.

She could not help it…surrounded by so many. A hand on her knee, she moved up to her thigh. She pouted her lips to tempt a kiss and she giggled when one kissed her cheek.

“ Kaadan mentioned you needed some help? We may be able to help if you like Miss…”

Her buzzed brain realized what was being proposed….

“Only if you want and with only your full consent.”

Danica should feel some sort of guilt, something akin to regret…but no. Nothing of the sort occurred…

She counted. 1. 2. 3 and 4 counting Kaadan.

“I’ll record, if you wish.” Kaadan proposed.

Danica counted again. 1 . 2 .3

—-

Private rooms in the Lounge told Danica that this place was more than a dinner and bar and it’s patrons spared no expense….

—

She was kissed deeply as two others removed her clothes. She moaned as they touched her and explored her.

“You’ve brought us a goddess.”

Danica blushed, “ Well if that’s so, I should be worshipped like one.”

—-

One cock deep in her cunt. Another she sucked off. The third happily being handled.

Danica was thrilled. All her nerves aflame and the second of many orgasms starting to rise.

“Stars, how can one only have you once?”

Danica thrilled in that, and rolled her hips causing the chiss to groan. “ Ahh you minx.”

—-

She lost track on how many times she was passed around, she just happily accepted being filled with a cock throughout the night…

She awoke refreshed and on clean sheets. A tray of breakfast set on the bed and a vase of 3 red roses.

Kaadan arrived with a cup of coffee.

Danica couldn’t look him in the eye, “ I don’t know what came over me.”

“Desires of the flesh…”

She blushed harder, “ to such a extent.”

“Well Miss Danica, your desires are others…” he handed her data pad. Danicas eyes widened…so many credits…

Not enough for tuition but not a bad start, “your performance on the holonet, is indeed lucrative.”

Danica considered it, “ If I continue I could make tuition…and probably also if more I could ensure my expenses are taken care of…and books…even rent…”

She blushed and looked to Ka’adan, “ would it be alright if I could be your guest again?”

“My dear Danica, the Lounge already welcomes you as a honorary member…”

And so her time at the Lounge began…

#smut #adult danica #dancia only wants chiss men 😂 #adult dancia oppress #Danica x blue crew

[mxesntity]

'Who would've guessed we'd end up like this?' || Sun/Moon x Reader

I'M USED TO AO3 NOTES BUT I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO WRITE HERE BEFORE YA'LL GO OFF TO READ RAAAH

this is the first time i'm posting an actual fic on tumblr, but for now, it's only a oneshot, although i'd love to make a longer version! i'm only posting this here first to see if anyone would be interested in it! if that's the case, i'd totally continue it on ao3 ^^ anyways, enjoy!

sfw, he/him for reader, no glitchtrap au

"I'm 19... do I really have to go?"

You looked up at the big, colorful painting above the red doors which said "Superstar Daycare Pick-Up"

"It's just for an hour, sweetheart, and you know how much your sister wants to see it!"

You sighed, thinking that the hour spent in a daycare with kids no older than 10 years old could be spent in a much better in a place than this. You didn't even get the chance to see the Glamrocks face-to-face yet!

"It's the closest attraction, let's get it done first and we'll go check out all the other places after, hm?"

As much as you still weren't into the idea, you didn't have the heart to say no to your dad. An hour can't last that long, right?

You opened the previously mentioned red doors, admiring how beautiful the hallway looked. Wow, they really put effort into everything. There was a big fountain in the middle of it, the colorful lights were slightly dimmed here, and the starry ceiling gave it all an even nicer touch.

The silly daycare music started hitting your ears better the more you were moving through the hallway. It was the one part of the Pizzaplex that seemed to have less people in it compared to the others, but it made sense. There were plenty of things to see, and the main focus was always on the Glamrocks, that's what people came here for. Technically, you did too.

But you'd lie if you said Fazbear Ent. didn't put an amazing job into the daycare animatronics, too. You haven't seen them for yourself just yet, but the countless posters already showed you enough. You appreciated the celestial designs, it was a fun concept for sure.

Your dad checked you two in, although you didn't really need it, seeing as you were an adult. You were there to simply keep an eye on your sister while your dad went to get some gifts for you from the shop that was just next to the big, wooden door.

Right, you forgot to mention it, did you? It was your birthday!

The very reason you were here today, was to celebrate your birthday. That's exactly why you also warned your dad not too see too many attractions around the Pizzaplex on his own while you were occupied, as you wanted to experience it together.

It was a dream come true, really. It didn't matter what ages did this place focus on, it didn't matter that you were grown by now - you always wanted to come here, and your 19th birthday finally gave you a chance.

Such fun attractions come with big prices, obviously. Your dad couldn't really afford it before, trying to tie the ends together, and you understood. You waited patiently, even got a job once you could to save up for the trip! And finally, here it was.

"Well, we're here. You two have fun! I'll go pick out the first few gifts for you."

"Being here is a gift itself, dad. Don't waste too much, I have money of my own, too."

At that, he only swatted you and your sister away with a smile, seeming to not pay too much attention to your words. You sighed playfully, watching him get away in the small crowd. Your dad was a good man, you appreciated him for all the times he put you and your sibling first, even despite how harshly life has treated him.

"You ready?"

You looked down at your sister, and seeing her nod excitedly, you got a bit more enthusiastic, too. You pushed the wooden door, your eyes hit with all the bright, random colors and especially the neons on the walls and the ceiling.

There were maybe three kids sitting at a small table next to one of the play structures, lost in their little world of scribbling on paper and drawing whatever little kids usually draw. But so far, no sign of the animatronics.

Well... until.

"NEW FRIENDS! HELLO, HELLO!"

You jumped at the sudden loud voice so close to you, and soon enough, you saw the source of it, right in front of you.

A tall animatronic with the design and color palette resembling the sun, with a wide smile from one cheek to another, and bright blue eyes.

Very, very tall.

Your sister reacted faster than you, clapping and giggling upon seeing him. Seems like she found her favourite.

"Oh my... uhm, hello."

You placed your hand on your chest, calming your heartbeat down. You'd lie if you said it wasn't extremely easy to spook you.

Once the animatronic saw how excited your little sister was upon seeing him, he grabbed her so high that she was now facing him. She loved it, and immediately reached out to grab the sunrays sticking to his faceplate.

"Oh, Laurey, no! You might damage him!"

You were prone to overreacting. But most of all, you really didn't want your family to suffer from any... accidental damage any of you might cause to Fazbear Ent. and their star attractions. You knew nothing about how they actually worked, so even if this bot is made for kids, maybe some of his parts are more fragile than the others?

But the animatronic didn't seem to care. In fact, he started giggling right back at your sister, acting like he's being tickled.

"My friend, that's no issue at all! I absolutely LOVE kiddos who are curious about my design! So, your name's Laurey, little star? How beautiful!"

Okay, you could see just how well he was programmed. The wording he used, the tone, it was perfect for kids, and left a teeny tiny effect on you too. It was definitely admirable.

"I'm so so SO happy to welcome two new friends into our little daycare! What's your name?"

His eyes were on you now, still smiling as widely as ever. It looked like he could change his expressions freely, but he didn't lose the smile once.

"Oh, me? I'm Y/N, I'm just here to keep an eye on Laurey. But, uh, I'm happy to meet you too!"

His eyes lit up at your words, grabbing your wrist softly with his free hand, and leading you both further into the daycare.

"I'm SO excited! We'll have tons of fun! We have all kinds of toys here, and we constantly make up new games to play! Oh, oh, and I just LOVE arts and crafts with the littles, especially with glitter glue and googly eyes! We also do puppet shows!"

His mouth didn't close for a long time. Normally, you'd be annoyed, but something about his voice, as jumpy and loud as it was, comforted you.

"Hey there, my little stars! Please welcome our new friends!"

The three kids who were still sitting at the table turned your eyes to you all, Sun's excitement clearly rubbing off on them. They immediately stood up and welcomed you and your sister, especially her. Once Sun put her down, she seemed to fit right in, and they seemed like kids who were sweet enough not to do anything hurtful in case you turned your head away for once.

The animatronic observed them with a proud smile before turning to you. "I've actually never had a guest this big before! You're a special one!"

You perked up at his words, not able to hide that being called special made you happy, even if it came from a robot. It was always nice to be appreciated regardless.

"Ah, yeah, I can imagine... my sister really wanted to come here once we arrived. It's actually my birthday today, but-"

"YOUR BIRTHDAY?!"

Your eyes widened once Sun's voice got 3 times louder. He seemed shocked, but excited as well.

"My oh my, why did you not say so right away?! That's a serious celebration! I have to make this occasion meaningful, unforgettable! Yes, yes, right away!"

You tried to stop him, saying that it's not that big of a deal, not being used to someone being so into celebrating your birthday besides your closest family, but he insisted.

"Kiddos!"

He called on the children, who immediately turned their eyes to him.

"I'll need to talk with y'all privately! No Y/N's allowed for now!"

You chuckled, assuming that this "private talk" was regarding the surprise he wants to give you. Seeing as there was no stopping Sun's plans, you decided to play along, trying to spy on their conversation a little bit, quickly getting swatted away by Sun. It was quite endearing. You definitely weren't disappointed by coming here anymore, and not even 10 minutes passed yet.

Being an ex-theatre kid payed off with how well you could pull off dramatic and over exaggerated reactions for the kids and Sun's enjoyment. You acted deeply hurt by the fact that they wouldn't fill you in on their little conversation, and with a very big, sad expression, you went to drown yourself in the ball pit. You heard the others giggling, and you quickly realized just how fun this short stay can be.

"Yes, yes, that's a brilliant idea! Let's get to work, my little stars!"

You peeked out of the ball pit when the kids started running around, looking like they were on a search for specific things Sun told them to find. But before you could see what they were looking for, someone's figure blocked your view.

"Nuh-uh, no peeking! That's against the rules! You're not a rule breaker, are you?"

You chuckled, looking up at the animatronic. His height did make your neck cramp, though.

"You don't have to do all this for me, y'know. I mean, I appreciate it, but I don't think it's really worth..."

He didn't let you finish your sentence, and soon enough, he picked you up like a cat.

"OF COURSE it's worth it! It doesn't matter if you're an old friend, a new friend, or for how much you'll be staying here! Every single one of my friends deserves a fitting birthday present! Birthdays are SO important!"

Even if you wanted to, you couldn't stop smiling. It seemed to make Sun happy - as expected from a daycare bot, making his guests have a great time in his little lane was the main objective.

"I'm gonna need you to stay somewhere you can't see our progress, friend! It's a surprise for a reason!"

You tried persuading him into staying, but no could do. That's how you found yourself on one of the castle towers in the ball pit, with a bunch of toys and plushies around you. It's not like any of these really interested you, you weren't a child, but once again, you decided to play into it, getting a playful warning from Sun earlier that even one peek will put you in a time-out.

You'd lie if you said you didn't find that huge sun-themed bot adorable. Fazbear Ent. was good at making people fall in love with their attractions, that's for sure.

You looked over the toys, and saw two that caught your attention - plushies resembling the two attendants. You grabbed them and realized that you haven't had the chance to meet the other, moon-themed one yet. Maybe he wasn't currently in the daycare? Maybe he only appeared after a certain time?

You hoped that the hour spent here will be enough to meet him too.

While in your thoughts, you haven't even realized that more than 15 minutes passed now, and the kids, along with Sun, seemed to be done with your little gift. You knew that, because all of a sudden, someone jumped behind your back and covered your eyes with his hands.

It was really easy to guess who did it, of course.

"We're all done, friend! Allow me to take you there!"

Before you could question what he meant, you were lifted up and held close to his chest with one arm, the other still covering your eyes. The kids started giggling once they saw it, which made you really curious about how you two must've looked like right now.

But most importantly - in that very short moment you realized just how warm Sun was. You'd assume he'd be cold because, well, he's a robot, but his chest radiated this comforting heat, and you wouldn't mind staying in that position for longer.

He was swift and fast, but also careful. You were held like some sort of princess, which surprised you, because who would be able to hold you with one arm, cover your eyes with the other, and navigate his body safely with only legs? You knew he was a machine, but damn, that was impressive.

Soon enough, you were sat down on the soft floor, and you finally regained your vision. In front of you was a tiny scene which looked like something made specifically for puppet shows. It was decorated with a bunch of led lights, and there was a small banner on the top that said "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" drawn with crayons. You couldn't help but smile at how cute everything looked. You were surrounded with a bunch of plushies resembling all the star attractions of the Pizzaplex, including the daycare attendants. You grabbed the Sun one, positioning it as if it was about to watch the show with you. You looked up at Sun, who seemed enamored with the sight, but quickly looked away, regaining his confident and energetic self.

"Me and my little stars prepared a SPECIAL, one of a kind puppet show for you! I came up with the scenario! We're so excited to present it to you, right, kiddos?!"

All four of the kids cheered, causing you to chuckle quietly. Their excitement rubbed of on you really quickly.

"Oh my, I wanna see it already!"

That single sentence worked wonders on Sun, who quickly disappeared behind the little stage. Well, not exactly disappeared, seeing as he was twice the size of it, but he tried his best to hide his faceplate, at least.

Then the show began, firstly showcasing only a little Sun puppet, walking around the imaginary daycare. Even as an adult, you had to say, you enjoyed things like these. Silly and cute.

Soon enough, another puppet jumped out, and this one resembled... you! You gasped, wondering how was that puppet so similar to you? Was it simply a coincidence, or could it be that Sun made the puppet just for you? No, surely, that'd be too much work spent on someone that he knew for less than an hour... but what if?

The more you watched, the more you realized this little show was just a replay of how you and your sister got into the daycare, how you met Sun, the other kids (they had their own puppets as well) and also a little made-up addition, which was the dolls playing various games or drawing with each other, generally doing things you usually do in the daycare.

It was so damn cute.

At the end of the show, the Sun puppet went out of it's way to lock you in a big hug, and the kids soon joined. The last scene consisted of all the puppets holding a little toy cake for you, screaming a "Happy Birthday!". The curtain rolled down, and you started clapping as soon as it did. You had a big smile on your face, which the animatronic immediately picked up on.

"Did ya like it, friend? Did ya, did ya?!"

You stood up with his help, not letting go of his hand for a few more seconds.

"Of course I did, you guys were amazing! This is one of the best birthday gifts I've ever gotten!"

Your compliment seemed to make Sun really happy, because his rays started spinning. You adored that! It reminded you of a puppy wagging its tail from excitement.

"Thank you so much, Sunny, and you too, kiddos!"

Your sister ran up to you, hugging your leg, at which you quickly patted her head.

Although when your eyes went back to Sun, he was standing still, looking straight at you.

"Is something wrong?"

At that, he almost immediately pulled you into a big hug, which you didn't expect, but also didn't mind. It did shook you a little, though.

"You gave me a nickname! How sweet! You're the sweetest ever! I must give you a nickname too!"

You had no idea that a little nickname would make him so happy. It wasn't even really on purpose, either, you kinda said it without thinking because it sounded cute. But if he liked it, then it made you happy, too.

"Hmm, a nickname for me? What would that be?"

He pulled away a bit, posing as if he was thinking really hard.

"Well, since I'm Sunny... and you're a guest at my daycare... I suppose calling you sunshine fits just right!"

You didn't wanna admit it, but being called 'sunshine' made you blush. Just a little bit.

"I think that's a sweet nickname, Sunny. I love it!"

He jumped in excitement, and you chuckled. All of what just happened made you completely lose your sense of time. You hadn't realized that an hour passed exactly now.

Your sister tugged on your sleeve, and you turned to her, and then to the daycare doors she was pointing at. Your father was standing there, waving at you both with a smile.

Aw, already?

"It seems like we have to go for now, Sunny."

His smile suddenly dropped, just a bit, but enough for you to catch it.

"Hey, don't be sad! I promise, we'll come back! Do you want to walk us out?"

He quickly nodded, and turned around to the children, telling them to behave for that quick moment in which he'll go sign you two out.

"Hey, sweethearts! Had a fun time?"

Your sister ran up to your dad, hugging him immediately. She was all jumpy, and he could tell that her answer to his question would be positive. He brushed her hair with his hand, and then looked over to you.

"A lot of fun! We wanna come back here again one day, don't we, Laurey?"

She nodded happily, and your dad was clearly a bit thrown off, but glad nonetheless.

"Well that's just great! Is this the daycare attendant over here?"

His eyes switched to Sun, and he perked up, smiling widely, just like when he saw you two for the first time.

"Correct, sir! Your kiddos are absolute angels!"

"Hah, I'm glad they didn't give ya too much trouble. Are ya'll ready to go?"

You two nodded, but before Sun could check your sister out, you turned to him, grabbing his hands softly.

"I'm sorry we couldn't stay over for naptime, I assume that's when Moon comes out, right? I'd love to meet him, but maybe another time! Either way, thank you for that gift, Sunny, it was lovely."

If robots could blush, Sun would be furiously red by now. But they can't, so his fans kicked in, and he now sounded like one of those old computers when you tried to run a heavier game on them.

"O-Oh, yes, yes! It's a shame you didn't get to meet Moon, but if you come back again, make sure to stay just long enough for naptime! I'll put in a good word about you and your sister!"

You laughed, thanking him in advance, and saying your final goodbyes. Soon enough, the three of you were on your way to another attraction.

"So, the daycare wasn't so bad after all, huh?"

"Not at all. Can you believe that he and the other kids prepared a special puppet show for me once I told him it's my birthday? He's so cool!"

Your sister joined your rambling about how nice and kind Mr. Sun was as well, and your dad listened to all of it, honestly surprised at how well the stay went.

"Oh, I almost forgot! I picked up a plushie of that favourite Glamrock of yours while I was gone. Besides that, I only got coffee, I didn't see anything by myself, don't worry!"

Your dad handed you the cutest Monty plush, and you immediately thanked him. Soon, you were all in the elevator going up, finally arriving in the main spot of the Pizzaplex.

On the side, you wondered... would they be interested in hiring a human to help?

#fnaf #five nights at freddys #sun fnaf #sundrop fnaf #sundrop #sun x reader #sundrop x reader #security breach #fnaf security breach

[earlgarden-archived]

Kazuha x KomiShouko!Reader

As you can see, I Stan Kazuha, because this is the second time within a week that I'm writing another Kazuha headcannon post. Sorry about that! Also I know I'm posting a lot of Character x different anime character!reader stuff but I always find these types of posts so interesting so I just had to make my own. But don't worry, I'll be posting normal posts soon.

(just like the Childe x Shinobu!Reader series, I'm making this a series too! So once again, stay tuned)

Kazuha x KomiShouko!Reader part 1 :

How you guys meet

Kazuha was simply strolling around Inazuma, of course considering how he's a fugitive, it's a bad choice to go wandering around Inazuma. But at this point, he didn't seem to care, as much as he disliked the region, he wanted to see the Sakura trees just once.

When strolling, he noticed a tiny voice talking. Thanks to his good hearing, he could make out what this voice was saying.

"Why can't I do it? Why is it so hard for me to utter even a single word?"

Cant even utter a single word? How sad...

Kazuha decided to listen in a bit more, maybe he could find out what's going on

"Even though I got the thing I wanted, I ended up getting more than I wanted. Why? Did he find me weird? Maybe he thought I was weird and wanted me to go away, so he gave me a bunch of stuff so I could never come again?"

Maybe they're mistaken

Kazuha slowly emerges from the trees, silently hoping that this person doesn't think of him as a stalker

"hello there" he quietly says, trying not to scare you, regardless it still startles you. You drop your small cat plush that you seemed to have been holding a few seconds ago

"ah, apologies, but I heard you talking. You seemed troubled so I thought I could talk to you." Kazuha said, trying to sound comforting to hopefully soothe your stressed self. But he was only greeted with silence. You slightly panick, trying to find something

"hm? Is there something you would like me to help find?" Kazuha asks, wondering why you won't talk to him. Just as he was going to help, he saw you take out a notebook and quickly scribble some words into it.

He watches patiently, anticipating what you are going to do. You show the notebook to him, hiding your face in the process. On the notebook it reads:

"I appreciate the help, but I'm good" although Kazuha doesn't really think so, if you say you're okay, then he'll leave you alone. Just as he was gonna open his mouth to say something, you flip the notebook onto the other page. Kazuha reads it, it says:

"but actually, do you mind if you could buy a cat plushie. I had promised my dad to get one, yet I could only get one... And those other plushies" Kazuha looks at the pile of stuffed animals sitting next to you and chuckles

"I can see the seller must like you a lot. Alright then, I'll help you" He watches in amusement as you quickly put your notebook away and attempt to carry all the animals. Unfortunately, one tiger plush ended up dropping to the floor. As you crouch to try to pick it up, an elephant plush drops. Then as you try to pick that up, a leopard drops onto the ground until eventually, every single animal plush is on the ground again. Your on your knees, looking as if you're about to cry. Once again, Kazuha chuckles

"there, there, I'll help you. Leave the carrying to me, I can handle it" your eyes sparkle, and you quickly bow down to thank him. Kazuha finds your actions very cute.

As you both walk to the shop, Kazuha couldn't help but wonder why haven't you uttered a single word? But the longer you walk to the shop, the more he starts to understand.

Maybe she dislikes talking? No, if she dislikes talking then she wouldn't have wanted me to help her in the first place. As well, it seemed like she really wanted to talk to people. Maybe she can't talk? But how is that possible? Is she mute? No, she was slightly shrieked when I approached her. And she was talking to the stuffed animal beforehand. So... What could it be... Ah! It has to be... Does she have a communication disorder?

But before he could say anything about it, you tapped him on the shoulder and pointed at shop selling plush. He smiles at you and places the stuffed animals down

"wait here" he quietly says and approaches the seller.

"hello, I would like to buy a cat plush"

"of course! That would be-" the seller suddenly stops, Kazuha turns his head to see you. Your holding a wallet, which he assumed was your wallet, when he looked back at the seller, the seller was shaking.

"wh-what? You're back? Did I not give you enough? I gave you every type of plushie we h-have" he stutters, he's clearly intimidated by your gaze. Which further proves Kazuha's theory. Kazuha looks over his shoulder to see you very sadly take out some mora and nervously handing it to Kazuha. Kazuha sighs as he hands it back to you

"I'll pay for this" he says, as he turns back to the seller

"sir, what's the price?" kazuha asks quickly

"f-five moras" the seller stutters as you hang your head to avoid eye contact

"alright here you go"

"h-have a n-nice day.. hope t-to nev- I mean, hope to s-see you again" the seller slowly stutters as Kazuha picks up the stuffed animals again and you hug the cat plush gloomily. As he looks back, he notices several people admiring something. He averts his gaze to what the people were staring at, only to find himself looking at you. People were admiring you.. He takes a closer look at you, and quickly realized why everyone was admiring you. You were beautiful. The most prettiest person he had ever seen. Your hair was silky, your skin was porcelain and your eyes were beautiful. Everything about you was perfect. But Kazuha simply turned his head forward, it's not like he really cared about looks anyway.

You two go back to the spot you first met and sit down. You look at the floor, embarrassed to make eye contact with Kazuha. While Kazuha looks out at the sea.

"The ocean is truly beautiful. Don't you agree?"

Kazuha says to break the silence, not knowing what to say. He looks back to see you writing on your notebook, turning the notebook to show what's on it:

"yes it is." You quickly turn to the other page

"by the way, thank you for helping me buying and carrying the stuffed animals" using the notebook, you're blocking your face, once again embarrassed to meet his gaze.

"ah, it's no problem. I'm happy to help"

As you two continue talking (actually Kazuha's doing all the talking, you're just writing on the notebook) Kazuha starts to enjoy your quiet nature. Since you can't talk, the conversations between you two are calm and peaceful. This is a lot better than being on the ship Kazuha thinks. Especially at night when the crewmates are drunk.

He is taken out of his thoughts when you suddenly start scribbling things down, you show your notebook:

"actually, I haven't gotten to know your name" Kazuha widens his eyes, how rude of him!

"apologies, looks like we were to busy chatting we forgot to introduce ourselves. My name is Kaedehara Kazuha, a wanderer that roams the land" after introducing himself, Kazuha smiles seeing how your face lights up after hearing that he's a wanderer.

"What about you? What's your name?"

Very quickly, you scribble your name down in big letters, turning the notebook around to reveal your name.

"y/n." Y/n that's a nice name

"what a beautiful name, it's nice to meet you y/n" Kazuha says smiling as you turn your notebook around

"nice to meet you too"

I find Komi relatable so this fic was for my own needs. Also quick reminder: This will be a series, so make sure to stay tuned

#komi cant communicate #kazuha x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin x you #komi shouko

[nicodemuslily]

Dialogues

And here we go again with BAU team sketches. /o/

First one: necessary face-to-face Garcia/Hotch after the reveal about Prentiss (when the case went to its end, of course). Actually, Hotch feared the reaction of two members of his crew: Morgan and Garcia (and Reid too because he knows that he wasn’t good at that moment), but he still did want to assume the full consequences of this decision. Then, when Garcia stayed with him after the all pack left, he has a moment of panic. But, actually, she was more concerned about his appearance (the guy was so skinny at that time) and she won a hug in the end (because he made her mourn a not-dead friend). :D

Second one: days or weeks before, when JJ had to deal with Reid crying on her shoulder. I imagine that both of them, JJ and Hotch, had some talks, away from everyone to discuss about their feelings (well, she talked, he listened). On that scene, they are waving at Jack who had some fun on a carousel in Washington, and JJ is pissed because she has discovered that Hotch has agreed to take care of some Strauss work (in addition to his own, hers, the mourning of his team, his own grieving and Jack).

Third one: S07E12 ending face-to-face when Prentiss was asking for a caring ear and a shoulder to deal with her bad feelings. Hotch finally explained to her that, sometimes, it’s better to let a murderer alive for him to be judged and for the victims to express themselves and close up this bad chapter of their lives. He also explains that to kill a bad guy doesn’t help that much to feel relief, on a contrary (yes, he talks about himself). 

Last one: day-off time for Hotch but not for the rest of the team. They call him for a little advice and finally hear Jack having an accident in the background. Case closed, they go find Hotch and his son at the hospital to check if everything is alright. Actually, it is. Jack wanted a cookie and got all the cookie jar on his forehead, but he’s fine. The nurse even gives Hotch the paper for his boy to leave the place. But Hotch feels bad about all this, thinking again that he is a lame dad who can’t handle his son’s life well. In the end, Morgan reachs for him and tells him that this kind of accident happen in every single family over the world (no matter how many parents there are in the house). More than that, he tells Hotch that there is no shame to feel for asking someone else help from time to time (his mother did it very often when she had to deal with her three young kids alone).    

___

All those scribbles have wonky proportions, I know. I’m working on A5 paper and it seems to be a little too small to let me express all I want to about these FBI agents. Sorry about that. 

(Starting the S10 veeeeery slowly. I’m still in love with the show but I know that there are only two seasons left before the kicking of Thomas Gibson (and the departure of Shemar Moore). And I feel so terrible about this that it’s triggering my brain. Man, I don’t know this actor much and maybe he’s a complete asshole for real, but thinking about the way he was ejected from the show after 10 years bugs me. Moore must had have a last episode party when he only had a “never come back” call. He seemed to have his temper and there is absolutely no good reason to hit someone (except maybe to protect yourself or someone you do care about) but, I still feel bad about this (maybe because I’ve got quite a temper too. XD). Well, there’s nothing we can do about this anyway. 41 episodes to go before the nervous breakdown. ^^; )  

#criminal minds #cm #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner #jj #jennifer jarreau #emily prentiss #derek morgan #hotch #agent hotchner #garcia #prentiss #morgan #sunday sketch time #sketches #sketchdump #fanfic illustration #criminal minds fanart

[incaensio]

setting : the fourteenth night after the arena break out, the control room in district thirteen. in response to : peeta mellark's first interview post arena outbreak. mentions of gale hawthorne, beetee latier, alma coin, caesar flickerman and peeta mellark. trigger warning for : death, torture, panic attack, drugging, bombing, caesar flickerman.

she's been to the control room several times this week. the arena outbreak, rescuing people from the capitol and from the districts, it had all been costly, and thirteen needed to show results — not only internally, of course. in a way, it's kinda like it's done in the capitol: they want her to appear in front of the cameras, become their face, repeat their speeches. only thirteen, in its allegedly humanizing way, haven't threatened her, and so, all meetings she attends consist of people talking around her, while she stays quiet, hoping they'll let her go so she can find a place to nap. that also means that katniss is not scared of coin as she had been of snow, even if there is something unnerving about the woman katniss should care to find out more about. she doesn't, however.

it's late in the evening, but there's something in capitol news today, she's told. gale sits next to her, as he often has this week, when the communicator in his wrist warns him — them — they should come here for whatever this is. beetee is in the meeting tonight too, talking about how his inside man has said caesar flickerman's show tonight is special. katniss is so numb she can not rationalize why until the tv flickers on. there's the usual caesar tune, a show of photos, then the camera shows an office of sorts. no audience. this should give away that something very different will happen, but it's only when peeta appears on screen that katniss moves. she's on her feet in a second, careless about people looking at her, about the one person she shoves so she can look at the screen in full.

"peeta," she breathes, for what seems to be the first time in weeks. for weeks, she had hoped he was dead, in peace at last; when she thought otherwise, she ended up having panic attacks, to the point her mother had snuck in a syringe and a small bottle of medicine to help her keep calm, while prim had learned breathing exercises that barely work. now, however, she feels her body flooded with relief, a relief so insistent she could smile. peeta is alive. he looks almost as he did those two weeks back, she thinks. but there's a look in his eyes, a trembling hand that wasn't there. what are they doing to him? she can picture all sorts of torture, but there's not much she can see from far away. if she was near him, she'd wash the make up away, apply salve to any bruises, hold him tight and say everything is going to be okay.

he's alive, and she still can't tell if it's a good thing. he's speaking, he's smiling, he's talking about her. katniss and i. a team, they've always been a team. they are a team. caesar — who always used to fawn over her, but now must be reading from his own speech, maybe written by his employer — is trying to antagonize her, and with her, the rebellion; peeta fights back, the way he knows how to, defending her endlessly with his words, his love. he's also saying things people don't usually say. things they barely spoke of, just when it was the two of them, scribbling on paper or whispering to each other, never on camera, like now.

peeta grows more exasperated as caesar presses on. he's leashing in his temper, as she's seen him do, but she can see it from the vein in his neck, the light bounce of his limbs, the way his accent peeks through, not to charm anyone who thinks of him as the one golden boy from twelve, but because he can not hold back everything at once. it's either his anger or his identity, now. she takes a deep breath as he talks about her wanting to do this. he's right. she doesn't — she doesn't want to be the mouthpiece to a war, to have more people dying because of her. she wants to be home, with her sister, her mother, and him. away from all of this (but when has she ever gotten what she wanted?).

caesar touches peeta, and katniss has to hold herself back from hissing out loud. an once comforting touch now feels the opposite, she can tell.

peeta is told to tell her something. she raises her eyebrows, brings a hand to the screen. yes, i can hear you. i'm here.

“do you really want a civil war? do you really want the kind of damage that will cause? what will it take before it’s over? how many people have to die? will there be anythin’ left?”

if she wasn't almost glued to the screen, she wouldn't have been able to hear what he says next because she's just noticed the room around her for the first time since the broadcast began. it erupts with dissatisfied sounds, but katniss doesn't have the time to glare at whoever is chastising peeta. he's being so candid now, it's like he's right here, eyes on hers, warning her, taking care of her. remember what i said about being a piece in someone else's games, katniss. yes. the night on the roof, before the games. words that inspired her before to save him, that haunted her so very often, as they do now.

the screen goes dark, and there's an expecting silence as she turns around. she doesn't say anything, but the way she begins moving towards the door is enough for the president to speak up, remiding her she hasn't been dismissed, that this meeting is not yet over. someone touches her as if to keep her in place, and she flinches automatically. gale is on his feet then, following her to the door and the movement is enough to distract the room for her to run (she can hear gale speak to someone inside as she rushes out, some kind of ruckus follows, but she is not wired to look back).

she finds a closet — she's rather good at that now — and closes the door behind herself, bringing her ring finger to her mouth, pressing it against her lips. "you're alive," she mumbles, and she can finally feel the tears begin to fall. she hasn't cried in days, too numb by the drugs, holding onto the thought that it would be better if peeta was dead. but he's not. she's been a horrible partner, she realizes, as silent tears turn into sobs. she tries to contain them, not wishing for anyone to find her and drag her back to the control room, where she'd need to give her thoughts.

her thoughts. what are them? relief, happiness, hope. despair, concern, horror. katniss has become familiar with contrasting sentiments, but this is something else entirely; peeta may be alive, but the complaints she heard in the control room as he asked for the cease fire are valid, too. she may be hiding away in a closet in an underground, half-dead district, but her other half, the actually convincing half is on tv, asking for peace. if the twenty one year old katniss, with an empty belly and a vulnerable sister heard this, she might be inclined to comply with peeta, stay with what she was familiar with, even if it's from the capitol. it is what she did, for all those years.

but she's not that awfully ignorant twenty one year old anymore. she's seen the capitol, the other districts, the horrible things they do not only for poor, defenseless miners, but for everyone, even to their own death machines. the never ending hunger to torture and break someone, to keep them down, forever. isn't that what the president tried to do to her?

what coud he be doing to peeta? she wonders once more, closing her eyes. he must be imprisioned somewhere, but being used to draw her out, to tease her, to show how helpless she is. anger creeps in like the very first interview, the one he confessed her feelings, the one she attacked him for showing how weak she is; it is similar to then, not because he's showing her out to be ignorant and easily swindled, but because he's protecting her, just as he did before. helping her stay alive at the cost of his own life.

still, there can't be a cease fire, she decides, with a certainty that spooks herself, the half-dead woman that has wandered these halls for a week now, wanting nothing but to escape. peeta wouldn't be asking for this rebellion to stop if he knew she is alive, that there could be a way to stop the barbarie they've lived in for so long, if he knew how their home has been reduced to ashes because of the president. how the same could happen to everyone else. but if he doesn't speak the way they want him to do, they will hurt him, they will kill him. i need to get peeta out of there, is the other thing she's sure.

how? how can she do this? how can she trust thirteen? peeta was trying to influence her on snow's behalf, anyone can see this, but that doesn't mean he's not right. if she does this, give them an answer, how much better is she? isn't she just a puppet drawn by another president's strings?

but peeta. she can't leave him there. he needs to know — about thirteen, about twelve, about her, about them, all that was left unsaid.

for that, for him, she needs to do this.

she needs to be the mockingjay.

#— 𝐾. 𝐸. : written. #self. #death tw #torture tw #panic attack tw #drugging tw #bombing tw #eventideevent04