#but then it's like once she starts she doesn't stop

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining an a/b/o dynamic where the entire 141, including you, are all Alphas. Except, after a few years of such close contact something starts to shift.

You start to become an Omega.

"Why is this happening to me?" You all but wail. It hurts to breathe, everything feels like it's on fire. Your stomach twists again, painful cramps shooting white hot lighting up your spine. "Why does it hurt so bad?"

Your pack is all around you, trying to soothe you in anyway they can but it's not working. Everything hurts, your teeth feel like they're going to crack from how tight you have them gritted. The wave of pain ebbs for a few gracious seconds before starting up all over again. You whine and sob and reach out for any of your team.

"Whats going on?" Price huffs, his cool hand cupping at your face. His touch is the barest relief even as he drags down one of your lower eyelids. He tuts in an intense concern. "Simon, have you seen this before?"

The larger male drops to one knee. He gives you a quick once over before dipping his head towards yours. He presses the front of his mask to the crown of your head. Through your labored panting you barely hear him take in a deep inhale of scent.

He coughs and stands back up too quickly. Judging by his flighty gaze, something is seriously wrong. Another tremor of pain wracks your body. You open mouth squeal. It's getting so much worse.

"Simon!" Soap growls, trying to bring his fellow alpha back from whatever memory he'd fallen into. "What's wrong wit' 'er?"

"She's turning into an Omega."

Everyone in the room turned their gazes towards Ghost, even you, despite your pain. You? An Omega? But you've always been and Alpha. It was part of the necessary requirements to be a part of the 141. You'd been genetically tested, hormonally tested, and aptitude tested. You were a full blooded Alpha coming from generations of Alphas.

"There's...ngh...no way." You hiccup out, tears blurring your vision.

"That doesn't make any sense. That can't happen." Gaz adds. He rubs at your back. His cool touch soothes even more of your pain into a dull throb, but it isn't enough.

"M' n' Alpha!" You cry out in anguish, the first of many tears finally dripping down your cheeks.

Something about Ghost's words hurt worse than any pain your body was making you go through. Try as you may to deny it, he was right. You could feel your body changing, altering, breaking and bending.

"Why is this happening to me?" You wail.

"There's too many of us." Ghost huffs, he glances around at your pack.

"Why does that matter?" Soap grumbles, scooping an arm around your center to pull you up into a sitting position. "We're a pack."

"That's just it." Ghost sighs tiredly.

"I've never heard of this being 'n issue." Price butts in. He grabs your face again and brushes the tears off your cheeks. "Task Forces are fully Alpha run. They 'ave been for years."

"If what Ghost is saying is right, it's biological, Captain." Gaz huffs, his thoughts visibly racing. "Too many Alphas, not enough Omegas. It means we'd go extinct."

"But why didn't she change earlier?" Johnny asks. You teeter in his hold but he keeps you upright. He lets you lean against his chest. He smells more comforting than usual.

"It's hormonal. She's been with us almost three years now, it takes time." Ghost says. Price nods in agreement.

"I'm an Alpha!" You sob, trying wrench yourself free from the multiple men around you. "I- I don't want to be bred. I don't want to be claimed! I'm an Alpha!"

"We're know you are, Love." Price breathes softly. He continued to wipe tears away from your face with a tenderness that only makes your despair swell further. "But this is happening, and we can't stop it."

"Take me to sick bay, please. They'll...they'll put me on blockers or something! Please, anything but this! I don't want to be an Omega."

The pack looks toward Ghost but he shakes his head.

"This is you first heat. The blockers will kill you."

You scream in pain, fear, and frustration. Another wave of excruciating pain washes over you. You wrench out of Soap's grip and fall against the floor. The tile is cool against your flushed skin.

As much as you hate him for it, Ghost is right.

This is your first heat.

Your back arches off the floor. Your toes curl and you squeal, shaking, gasping, panting hot breaths. You can feel yourself start to sweat. There's a sudden gush of wetness between your thighs. Embarrassment floods you. You try to curl into a ball but your body keeps being wracked with tremors.

"H-help me..." You cry out weakly, sobbing into the tile.

Your pack seems to finally get a whiff of your fluctuating scent. All around you, you watch as one by one each of their gazes grow more and more pointed. All of you know what must be done. After all, you're an Omega now.

...and there's no going back.

#cod imagines #mw2 #call of duty #mw2 headcanons #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #captain price #kyle gaz garrick

[mxtantrights]

Hello ☺️ I really really enjoyed the boxer jason and your over all jason imagines they make me feral. I was wondering if I could request one where the reader is like all about jason and he isn't used to it and she is like a big ball of sunshine always happy to see jason and will like drop a conversation as soon as he walks into the room and go on over to him.

a/n: anon, thank you so much for this sweet message and this really juicy request!! <333 I'll have to do you one better with this request, I hope you enjoy.

Mr.Stratford is talking about something. Something about his second dog and his third wife. Or maybe it's his third do and his second wife? You can't really tell. At this point you know that he's had three wives and five dogs. And he has so many funny stories about them. He thinks it's funny but you think it's a downright snooze fest.

You keep from yawning when you decide to move a bit. That way you'll have sight of the door and see who's coming in and out. You nod on as the man continues speaking, losing a minute of your life with every word he says.

It's not until a white tuft of hair appears in the doorway do the sparkles come back into your eyes. You hand the man your flute of bubbly and starts fast walking over to him.

Jason sees you coming and holds open his arms. You launch yourself at him. He hugs you back.

"Next time we show up together." you say.

"You just walked away from the mayor of Gotham." Jason says.

"He's got three more months left until reelection. So what." you answer and shrug your shoulders.

-

You look at him. Taking him all in. The hook of his nose. His eyelashes, that are truly unfair of him to have, and his eyes. His big brown eyes.

You slide your finger down the side of his face, his cheekbone, and smile.

"Is everything okay?" he asks.

You nod slowly, "yeah just can't believe you're mine. It's kinda crazy."

"You're the one out of my league." he tries.

But you counter when you get up and straddle him. With your thighs on either side of his waist you place your hands on top of his chest. He just looks at you, with that face.

He makes the same face whenever you greet him or talk about him to himself. Like he doesn't believe it. Like he thinks it's an illusion or something.

You remind him every day it's not.

"Jason Todd, you are so far out of my league we're not even playing the same sport. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I promise I'll wake up and earn you. Every day." you say.

Jason's eyes go a bit wide. And he holds onto your hands that are place atop his chest. You lean down and press two kisses to the back of his hands.

-

Jason comes to pick you up at work and it's like the sun is shining again. You fold up your apron and jog around the coffee counter. And when you finally meet him at the door, you stop mere inches from him.

He looks down at you with a smile.

"Hi." he says.

You smile even wider, "Hi Jason."

He shakes his head with a smile and brings you into a hug. You hug him back immediately. He rocks the both of you side to side. He also handles you away from the door to not bump into anyone coming into the coffee shop.

"Ready to go home?" he asks.

You nod as you snuggle further into his chest.

-

You lose him in a crowd once. once. It only happens once because after the two of you create a game plan. Contingencies upon contingencies to make sure it doesn't happen again.

When you and Jason are in a packed dive bar. Something about it being trivia night and also happy hour and also a celebration for surviving the latest scarecrow attack.

You're by the bar and he's trying to secure a table for the two of you. And you get a bit down trodden when you realize you can't see him near you. You start looking past the dozens of heads but you still can't find him.

So you do the one thing that you remember from a tv show once. You bend down and look at the shoes. As you crab walk through the crowd you pass by so many of them.

Until you can see his familiar brown boots. The noticeable scuff on them that you saw when he put them on just an hour ago. You pick yourself up and see his head amongst the others.

When you finally get within three feet of him you reach out and call to him. He turns around and he smiles.

"Thought I lost you." he says.

"Nope. I just looked for your boots." you answer.

"We've gotta come up with something else. What if I throw these boots away? Or if someone has the same kind?" he asks.

You put your hand on his cheek, "I'll always find you. The boots just made it easier."

#dc x reader #dc imagine #dc #Jason todd #Jason todd x reader #Jason todd imagine #dc blurbs

[jinuaei]

I can offer you an idea of ​​yandere alastor.. What would it be like if alastor as a child knew the reader... Like I imagine alastor as a child not knowing how to act properly like a human, and the reader as a good best friend helping him seems more human (and not because the child reader is scared of him) ... Actually, what would happen?

Wrote this instead of working on my finals hope you enjoyed it!

Yandere! Alastor x Childhood friend! Reader

Warning: Animal death, blood, its YANDERE

WC: ~1.5k

Charlie dragged the whole hotel for another ‘trust’ session, this time, she had the great idea for the sinners to share stories from when they were alive. Granted, some of them were eager to share, namely Nifty and Angel Dust, Husk would share some here or there, although it's mostly due to Charlie and Angel pushing him to. Alastor on the other hand kept quiet during the whole ordeal, until the topic of childhood friends came up.

“I had a childhood friend once, such a sweetheart. Wouldn't leave me alone to play with others!,” Alastor let the statement linger in the air, casually sipping on his coffee. 

The other members of the Hotel look aat him with mouths agape, shocked and surprised at the fact that THE Alastor, Radio Demon, Dealmaker, HAD FRIENDS? Moreover, a childhood friend?? Someone stayed friends with him since they were children???

“Don't look at me like I am incapable of having proper friendships, and no, you cannot ask them about me as a child because they're simply not a sinner! Oh imagine my disappointment when I didn't find them down here,” his eyes glazed over in slight rage as he thought about how you weren't here.

Very disappointing that I will never be able to hold my beloved again. What I would do to be able to chain them to my side once more…

“Well don't leave us hangin’, whose this sweetheart of you’s?,” the white spider interjected.

He tells them your name, sighing dreamily as he starts to reminisce about the times you were together when you were children.

You were the child of one of his momma's clients, a bubbly little thing, always eager to play with him regardless of how cold he is to you. 

His momma was your family's personal tailor, and by God were you a spoiled little thing. Every week you would ask for 2-3 outfits to be created for you, although it looked more like costumes than everyday wear but he doesn't complain, as long as your family treated him and his momma with respect.

Nonetheless, he refuses to be close to you, considering you as a bother, but of course, he would never admit that to you, lest he wants his momma to get in trouble. 

He hasn't always looked forward to when his momma brings him to your house, namely due to you clinging to him every time you meet. There's one thing in your mansion that he’s quite fond of though, once he manages to escape from your grasp, he sneaks into the woods behind your house, gazing at all the wildlife roaming around your property.

One time, he found an injured bird crying close to him, it tried to get away from him but he eventually caught it in a tight grip, it chirped and cried but Alastor just gripped tighter and tighter until, pop! 

Blood trailed down his hands and onto the forest floor below, unbeknownst to him, he had a huge grin on his face, too pleased with the mutilation of the poor bird. A gasp resonates behind him and he quickly drops the bird, face stilling at the fact that he got caught.

When he turned his body to you, your eyes were full of tears staring at his hands that he didn't bother to hide. He prepared himself to hunt you down to make sure you wouldn't tattle on his momma but your next words made him stop in place.

“Are you okay???” you rushed to his side, pulling out a handkerchief and started to wipe off the blood coating his stained hand.

In response, the child looked at you aghast, stupefied at the concern you were showing, marking yourself vulnerable to the predator towering over your much shorter build. He could kill you if he could, he can lie and tell your parents that a bear found both of you and killed you, that he tried to save you but was unable to. But then again… as you fret over him, a thought passes through his mind. 

You are too kind for your own good, just like momma. Don't worry I’ll protect you.

Alastor raises the now somewhat clean hand, and he notes how you didn't even flinch at it, and just looked at him with your wide, innocent eyes. The hand lowers to pat you on the head, ruffling your hair a little bit.

“I am fine, I tried to save a bird but it was too hurt to be saved,” he shows off the bird, face devoid of any emotions.

You frowned at it and suddenly went on your knees and started digging a grave with your hands.

Alastor furrowed his eyebrows and questioned what you were doing, you responded with, “I’m digging a grave for the birdie, I don't want them to die without a proper burial.”

The boy helped you after a few moments of silence. Once you were done, you clasped your hands together, covered in dirt and blood,  silently looking at him to do the same. Look at you, as a child of a rich man you shouldn't be on your knees covering yourself in filth, but perhaps he should indulge his angel for a little bit. 

As you started praying he couldn't help but let the bitterness consume his mind. God wouldn't care about frivolous things like this, prayers do nothing, if it did, how come he and his momma are still at the mercy of that monster of a man he calls his father?

“Amen.”

You offer your filthy hand to him, gazing at him with a smile that could rival the sun. Perhaps the only good thing that God has done, is sending down an angel for him to play with.

“You should smile more, you look very pretty,” he raises an eyebrow at that, startled by your bluntness. Admittedly, he can feel himself flush at your compliment.

“Do you like it when I smile?” he hums, taking your hand. Both of you started to walk back to your manor.

“I do! Mommy always said ‘you’re never fully dressed without a smile’ and that's why I always smile!”

“Then I'll smile a lot for you,” he tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

“You're doing it wrong! It's like this,” you show off your smile, toothy and wide.

He tries again and ultimately fails, you pout at him cutely when he failed, and he couldn't help but smile, genuinely smile at that. In response you shout out ‘like that!’, and start vibrating in excitement that you managed to make him smile.

It was almost nightfall when you eventually managed to get home safely, albeit covered in dirt and grime. What greeted you both were your father, stressed beyond belief, and his mother, on the verge of tears. They both rushed to you guys and hugged the both of you, fretting and scolding at how worried they are, they asked you and Alastor what happened and you, being the loudmouth you are, told them the story that you know.

Both adults are relieved to hear that you both are safe, they rushed you to clean yourselves up. Ever since then, Alastor has been looking forward to every visit they had to your house. And every single visit has been a learning moment for him, day by day he learns what you like and what you don't like. 

You like gentlemen? The next time you meet, he offers you his arm to hold. Do you like poetry? He memorizes your favourite poems to recite whenever you're bored. Do you like food and cooking? He begs his momma to teach him her infamous Jambalaya and other comfort foods to cook for you.

Alastor molded himself to become your ideal man, the most perfect gentleman that ever existed in your life. But then…

“Then what...? But then what??” Angel exclaimed when Alastor trailed off with a cliffhanger. Everyone leaned towards him, captivated by the story he shared. He smiles cryptically, but still doesn't respond.

“Oh well, it seems like it's almost supper time, I should work on it, wouldn't want to be late for dinner hmm?”

Everyone collectively groaned at the cliffhanger, they wanted to know what happened after, but they couldn't complain much lest they want to be part of Alastor's radio broadcast.

Alastor turns away from them, humming to himself as he walks towards where the kitchen is.

But then you had to die as a saint. You had to marry that disgusting excuse of a man you called your husband, and now he killed you. My beloved, was I not enough? Was I not perfect for you? You would have been safe if you were with me… Don't worry, I made sure that ‘husband’ of yours regretted ever hurting you. May this be an offering to my angel.

A haunting scream pierces through hell, amplified by the speakers scattered around the pride ring.

Support me here so I would be more likely to write more fics 🤭

#yandere x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel x reader #yandere alastor x reader #yandere alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x you #Hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel

[dudecunt]

little boy spasming on his mom's cock, cunt sopping wet and well-trained from years of being gaslit and raped shown the full extent of her love. his mom is harder than ever, wearing a vibrating cock ring so it buzzes against his plump clit with every balls deep thrust. she readjusts so she can fuck his cervix, cock ring steady on his angry little button. the expression on his face, completely void of any higher-level processing, eyes rolled back, drool streaking his chin and neck from the blowjob he gave her earlier -- she can't believe her own child looks like that. she's never gonna be able to not think about it when she's alone and stroking her clit.

she's glad she decided to set up the camera tonight. usually she uses her phone to film herself plowing his cunt, but with the tripod set up she can get her hands all over her boy while recording all of his cute, squirmy orgasms. he's been cumming so hard tonight too -- working that heart plug into his ass was a great idea alongside the ring. the kid doesn't know what to do with himself.

she's just grateful that she has the willpower to not immediately flood his womb with her load while feeling his drenched pussy grip her clit. still, she's struggling a bit the longer they make love -- each time he starts shaking and thanking her for another orgasm, she has to seat herself balls deep and stay completely still. the combination of the vibrations, his cunt having something thick and throbbing to suckle on, and his asshole clenching around the bejeweled plug is clearly distracting him enough from the break in his mother's pace, though. just to cover all her bases, she's leaned down so she can kiss him whenever she stops, and she switches to more of a slow grind once she calms down. he's definitely cumming more than he can think about it.

he's starting to choke on air, eyes totally white now, convulsing violently as his cervix struggles and slurps at her tip, and that's her cue to pull out to give him a break. she groans at the nasty, creamy noise of her cock sliding out, chuckling at how he squeals and squirts hard on her exiting length. they're still connected, his plump, young cunt fucked open obscenely. she really doesn't know how he's managed to take all of her over the months -- she's much bigger than most women. the kid's a natural-born whore.

"...mom," he manages, whole body shaking. she swallows down a strangled, short moan at the sight of cream drooling from his clenching hole, gripping her cock for a moment just to stroke its whole length right in front of his broken-in pussy. "yeah, kiddo?" she grunts, feeling her balls tighten up.

"why're you...why'm i getting fucked like this?" he whines, and she pauses, letting out a short, overwhelmed huff as she freezes, trying not to shoot ropes over his visibly throbbing clit at the words alone. holy fuck.

"'m sorry, baby," she says, feeling a little guilty, which is an emotion she admittedly doesn't feel all that often when she's dicking her boy down. but looking at his teary eyes, his puffy, teased nipples, how his lower half still trembles like she's still actively demolishing his boycunt...a tiny bit of sympathy creeps into her brain despite the delicious heat sinking further into her body. "mom's almost done. you think you can cum a few more times for me?"

she's already slipping back inside, not waiting for an answer. she sighs as she feels that incredible slide and her tip already squishing against his cervix. when he tries to open his lidded eyes, she can see how he's struggling to keep them uncrossed. "icann'tt," he attempts, but she's already forcing him right open, grinding her sensitive head into that tight pucker.

"doesn't matter," she mutters, angling her hips so he has nowhere to escape from the vibrator again, feeling up the soft peaks of his little tits. "take your breeding."

he frantically holds onto her forearms as she thumbs at his nipples, legs askew and kept apart by her body in between them as she digs deep inside him, and she rumbles in approval. poor fuckin' kid. the noises coming out of him are more akin to small, scared prey. it's incredibly erotic paired with the filthy noises coming from his traumatized conditioned happy pussy. she's so glad she decided to start raping spoiling her kid like this -- this is the best stress relief she's discovered in years. he clearly likes it too -- his underwear is almost always ruined when she does his laundry. he clearly can't get his mom's clit out of his head, even at school. even then, his grades are better, more consistent, and he's made far more friends this year than he usually does. her baby's been glowing. seems like he just needed some momcock to break him out of his shell.

he's already cumming when she bottoms out, a broken, pretty moan stuttering out of her as she feels her balls pulse hard against the cold metal of his plug. she grins, a breathy laugh spilling out of her when he wraps his legs tighter around her with every spurt of her fertile seed. a panicked, fucked-out mommyyy slips from his tightened vocal cords and a grunt escapes her, cock twitching with how hard he's clenching around her. maybe she...shouldn't enjoy this as much as she does, but that just makes it even hotter.

as she works her load into him, she watches him buck up against her with a tight grip still on her arms. the way he's looking at her is so maddeningly innocent, more than a touch of fear there, contrasted with his drooling, dominated pussy. he's practically daring her to keep fucking him full of cum. her cock jerks inside of him at the thought.

fuck. with the rate his breasts are growing...she's really gonna have to start wearing a condom soon.

#wow #4gepl4y #t4t ns/fw #t4t nsft #trans ns/fw #trans nsft #breeding k1nk #!nc3st #momcon #corruption k1nk #r4pepl4y #if i edited this after posting no i did not

[dazed-and-confused23]

Golden Rule

Summary: Lucy is presented with her first case of Ghoul Bigotry, and it goes as well as what you think it might.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean

Warnings: Eh none? This was just for funnsies lol. Short and sweet

"Oi. Get your rotter outta here, Vaultie. We don't like his kind around here."

Lucy looks at the merchant in shock. The woman had been perfectly cordial until Cooper had come inside, and her attitude had changed immediately to disgusted annoyance. She cuts her eyes back at Cooper, who doesn't look affected by the harsh words whatsoever, but Lucy can't believe her ears.

"Excuse me?" Lucy demands once she's gotten over her initial shock. Her hands ball into fists, and she squares her shoulders, "What the heck did you just call him?"

The woman sneers at the vault dweller, "A rotter. A zombie. Get it the fuck outta my shop."

Lucy feels her face go hot in anger. How dare this woman say such mean things about Cooper. He was an asshole and rough around the edges, but Lucy would never even dream of calling the ghoul such ugly words.

"You can't just call him things like that, ma'am. Cooper is just as human as me or you," Lucy snaps at the woman, eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

"I can call that zombie whatever the hell I want, girl. Now, if you ain't got the caps, get the hell out."

Lucy huffs, lips screwing up and gearing up to tell this lady what's what, when Cooper appears behind her, one hand curling over her shoulder to pull her away from the counter. She lets herself be led away from the counter but can't stop the last retort from falling past her lips.

"Fine! I didn't want to trade with an old hag like you anyway!"

Cooper snickers as he drags her through the door and back out into the wastes. It'd been a long time since someone had stuck up for him like that.

"Let it go, Sweetheart. Some people are just too set in their ways," Cooper scoffed and tugged her along when Lucy huffed and crossed her arms indignantly.

"It's still not right. You're better looking than half the men I've seen out here, anyway."

Cooper laughs at that one and sends the smoothskin a wink, "Keep talkin' like that Darlin' and I'll start thinkin' you actually like me."

@therulerofallpotatos

#fallout show #cooper howard #fallout #fallout prime #fallout tv series #lucy maclean #ghoulcy #vaultghoul #cooper howard x lucy maclean

[carmyboobear]

ALEXITHYMIA CH 5: detergent, thrifting, and cake

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader

Chapter Rating: T (11k)

ao3 link, ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4

Chapter Summary: It’s his roommate’s birthday this week, and Carmy doesn’t find out until it’s a couple days away. Once he finds they’re unluckily spending their birthday alone, he makes it his mission to make their lonely day better. It’s the least he can do. Little does he know how much more he has to discover about them and about himself.

Tags: reader having trauma, carmy having trauma, toxic families, domesticity

A/N: It’s time… it’s time. I said last chapter was the longest…just kidding. THIS ONE is the longest, and it was hardest to write so far. The duo gets to have a lot of fun this chapter, though! arguably the most so far! A lot of domestic goodness and good food and shopping! Until… :)

also HUGE shoutout to @justaconsequence on tumblr for being my beta reader for this chapter! she was so kind and so helpful. this behemoth of a fic is too much for me to proofread on my own. anyway, thanks for reading and enjoy! can't wait to hear what y'all think!

Typically, by this time on Monday morning, Carmy's usually three cigarettes deep into paperwork, urgently (and poorly) calculating the sales the restaurant needs to make this week to stay afloat. Because even though it's a Sunday closing activity, he never seems to find the occasion to get around to it, and by 10 pm, he doesn't have the capacity to be crunching numbers. 

Not that 8 am is much better. At least he's not dissecting the debt this morning—he's studying detergent prices.

“Why is this one, like, almost 20 dollars?” Carmy stops reading the price tags and glances over at his roommate, who's squinting at products on upper shelves. The lights are always too bright in this place. “And for such a small bottle…”

“Pre-mixed organic sulfate-free 100% vegan bleach,” Carmy reads dully. 

“So stupid.” They shake their head. “Does grocery shopping ever depress you?”

“Usually,” he replies dryly. “Inflation is pretty depressing.”

“Don’t even get me started. Capitalism in general depresses me.”

“Hm, yeah. That too.” He sighs through his nose and tries to refocus. He's having a hard time processing all the numbers and letters today. “You see any unscented detergent? Somethin’ mild?”

“Um…” They crane their neck up and down, and then they crouch on the ground. They pick up a white bottle. “How's this? It's like, 8 dollars. It's not name-brand, but…”

“You know I don't care.” He kneels with them, huddling in close. They smell faintly of a sweet, yet musky perfume. He reminds himself to focus on the detergent, not the way they smell (even if it's far more interesting). “Yeah, this looks good. Thank you.”

“For your vintage denim, right?” They stand up to put the detergent in their shopping cart, which is barely separated with his stuff vs. theirs. He doesn't understand why his face grows warm at their comment, but it does. 

“Uh, yeah. It is.” If the blush shows on his face, they graciously don't comment. “Although I'll admit I don't get around to washing them as much as I should.”

“You're not supposed to wash jeans that often anyway, right?” They lean their elbows onto the rickety cart as they push it, and he ambles along next to them, matching the slow, relaxed pace of their walk. 

“Yeah, but I really…” The implications are clear. They fail in suppressing a laugh, and it makes him smile. “And I’m supposed to hand wash them, so.”

“Oh, so what you're saying is that you never wash them,” they tease.

“That is not at all what I'm saying.” They make an unimpressed face. “I do laundry, it's just…”

“Not often,” they supply helpfully. He tries to come up with something, but he's got nothing. “It's okay, I understand.”

“I promise I wash my clothes,” he mumbles, wilting. 

“I know.” There's that new smile he's grown to recognize more clearly. It's this mischievous one they get when they’re teasing him, and it's so cute he doesn't have any room in him to get even a little irritable. “I've seen you do laundry maybe once or twice.”

“Hey,” he says, warning, and they laugh and run ahead of him, the squeaky wheels of the cart giggling alongside them. 

After the night he almost burned down their apartment, he had felt different. It was like a switch being flipped, light abruptly filling up a dark room, and he's been squinting, struggling to adjust. But as he walks with them today, grocery shopping lit by blinding white fluorescents, he finds that he can see them rather clearly. 

The connection between the two of them is tangible, palpable. It's workable pasta dough that's been kneaded to uniformity. The dough is malleable, clean, and when he touches it, sticky, glutenous residue doesn't cover his palms. When he catches at them peeking over their shoulder to make sure he's still following them, he chases away the urge to pull them into his arms. He throws the desire into boiling water in hopes that enough pressure will change those feelings into something more palatable. He's not sure if it's working.

Something happened when he hugged them that Saturday night. He doesn't dare name what that “something” is, but it's rising from where it's sitting at the bottom of the pot, just about to hit the surface—

“Hey, I gotta get some stuff in this aisle.” Carmy snaps out of it and follows them as they veer the cart to the left. He raises his eyes to read the categories on the sign.

“You bakin’ somethin’?” They both move out of the way for an oncoming cart.

“Yeah, was thinking about it.” They halt to a stop in front of the boxed cake mix and step back to fully peruse the shelves. He stands next to them, and they glance at him out of the corner of their eye. “You’re not judging me for getting box mix, are you?”

“Not at all,” he answers honestly. “Food is always better when made from scratch, but box mix has its uses. Besides, I’m not a baker.”

“That’s true, but I’m sure you still make an insane cake.” Carmy’s aware he can’t make them unsee his flash of a smile, but he still shrugs. “Sure, stay humble.”

“I try. What’s the occasion?”

“Ah, nothing much. It’s just my birthday.”

“Oh, okay.” 

…And he's about to move on, just as casually as it came, but then the processing finishes.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” They ask confusedly. 

“Is it your birthday today?”

“No, um, it’s this Thursday.” He exhales in palpable relief. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He hates at how worked up he sounds.

“Um…” Their face is twinged with guilt. “...There was never a good time to bring it up?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be getting upset.” He sighs, shakes his head. “I just feel like I should’ve known, I guess.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not your fault. I never brought it up. Um…” Their hands are fiddling with the edges of their sleeves. “I just have complicated feelings about my birthday.”

“Ah, I see. I get that.” That, he can understand. “Is it all the gifts and stuff?”

“Kinda. It’s a part of it.” They lean down to grab a box of devil’s food cake, and that makes him remember that they’re in a grocery store. Not quite the best place for a personal conversation like this. They’re being vague, but he won’t press. Not right now.

“You shouldn’t be baking for yourself on your birthday,” Carmy mutters. They smile at that, but it’s different. It’s heavy with melancholy. 

“It’s alright. I’m gonna be celebrating with my friends this weekend, just not on my actual birthday.” His conflicted expression persists. “It’s okay, really. It’s just a day. It’ll be enough of a present to not have to go into work.”

“Put that back,” he blurts out. “I’ll make you a cake.”

“Don’t you work?” Their eyebrows are arched in surprise. “You really don’t—”

“I know I don’t. But I want to. I do work, yeah, but I’ll, I’ll get someone to cover me.” He’s never said those words before in his life, and now that they’re out, he can’t take them back. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t want to take them back. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course,” they reply quickly. 

“Then let me do this. Please.” He has no idea where this courage is coming from. “I want to. I know I'm always working, but I really…” Their eyes are wide with wonder, yet watchful. It shouldn't make him falter, but it does. His heart stutters and whatever bravado briefly gripped him fades away. “I’m…probably being too pushy right now. Tell me to fuck off?”

“I’m not gonna tell you to fuck off for wanting to bake me a cake,” they laugh, easing his worries like they always do. “C’mon, Carm.”

“So, uh, is that a yes, or…?”

“Just so we’re clear, I’m not trying to ask you to take off of work for my birthday,” they start carefully, “but I wouldn’t object to it. So, yeah. It’s a yes.”

“Okay.” He can’t help his giddy smile. There's someone saying you look stupid like this, but he’s with them, and it makes everything else silent. “Okay, good.”

“You’re…being super sweet about all this.” He doesn’t understand why—maybe it’s the way they say it—but hearing that makes his neck go hot. 

“I mean…friends do stuff like this, don’t they?” 

“Only the good ones.” They beam beautifully at him. He hasn’t done anything to warrant their affection, he thinks, but the feeling of their smile is so warm. He can’t resist soaking in it.

He's glad that lady luck blessed him just enough to stop their birthday from passing him by. He's been itching for an opportunity to repay them for all the bullshit they've had to take from him as of recent (although he knows if he brought it up, they would say it wasn't anything worth repaying). They deserve something good from him for once, not panic attacks and nightmares. 

He just wishes he could figure out why they were going to spend their birthday alone. He knows them a lot better now, but there's still so much left shrouded. He wants to know them inside and out—he wants to learn what makes them tick, what keeps them up at night, what makes them happy. He wants to know all of it in its entirety, to fill in the gaps in the puzzle he doesn't have the pieces for.

He has some of the pieces. He understands that their relationship with their family to his—distant, strained, and difficult. Unfortunately, that’s about it. He doesn’t know any of the specifics. It’s not like he’s talked to them about his family outside of the off-handed bitter remarks, just as they have, but he finds that this fact leaves him dissatisfied.

He just hopes that they'll let him in. He's not sure if they will, but…he's gonna try. He has to. He's sick of not trying.

. . . . .

“You want to take off?” Richie’s staring at Carmy like he’s grown a second head. They're taking a smoke break in the back. “I don’t know what sort of doppelganger bullshit this is, but if you’re trying to pretend to be Carmen, you’re doing a shit job.”

“Very funny, jackass,” Carmy mutters. “I’m being serious. This Thursday.”

“All day?” Carmy grimaces, but he nods. Richie shakes his head. “You’re being weird. Really fuckin’ weird.”

“I know I shouldn’t. It’s a bad idea, but—”

“Cousin, no, that’s not at all what’s goin’ on here,” Richie interrupts, and Carmy’s at a loss for words. “This is the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“What?” Carmy squints at him. “Are you being serious?”

“‘Course I’m serious. I’m always serious.” Carmy decides not to comment on that. “Do you know how many times I’ve tried to get you off this ship for just one fucking second?”

“As the owner of this place, you’ve tried way too many times,” he replies dryly. 

“Uh, as the original co-owner of this place, you don’t listen to me enough.” Again, Carmy decides not to elaborate on that one. It’s not worth it. “Take the day off. I was running it fine before, and I’ll keep running it.”

“No, no, we’re not saying that, it was not fine,” Carmy starts, but Richie’s already flipping him off. 

“Whatever, I already know, new fucking system and all that. Don’t get anxiety or whatever over it, that’s why you got Syd hustling shit your way, right?” 

“Uh.” Carmy didn’t realize that Richie had even been paying attention to the new hierarchy in the restaurant, let alone respecting it in any capacity. “Yeah, she is.”

“Then it’s fine.” Richie blows smoke in his face, and Carmy swats it away with a glare. “It was fine when you came in an hour late today, wasn’t it?” 

“You guys knew I wasn’t gonna come in until later,” Carmy argues, defensive (although he’s not sure if there’s actually anything to argue about). 

“Exactly.” Richie sighs all of a sudden, a long one that sounds like it’s bone deep. “Carm. Let me be straight with you. You need to do this. Okay? No backing out of this one.”

“Why’re you sayin’ this? What are you sayin’?” 

“It’s ‘cause of your roommate, right? This Thursday?”

“...Yeah.” Carmy pales. “How did you—?”

“Fuckin’ knew it,” Richie says, grinning. “It was obvious.”

“No way. I didn’t say shit.”

“You didn’t need to.” Richie flicks the ash off his cigarette. “They’re changin’ you, man. We can all see it.”

“...” Carmy can’t deny that. He doesn't have time to ponder on that right now. “Is it really okay?”

“Yeah, you could stand to have an attitude adjustment.”

“I wasn’t talking about that, asshole. I was talking about Thursday.”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake, it’s completely fine.” Richie claps a hand on his shoulder, solid in its grip. It makes Carmy’s eyes snap to him, mostly in confusion. “So what’s the occasion? Must be important.”

“It’s their birthday. I mean, I could just go home early that day, but—”

“Yo, if you’re gonna take off, don’t halfass it—”

“That’s not what I was gonna say. When I’m here, I can’t seem to find my way out. This place…it just has a way of trapping you in.” He doesn’t expect Richie to nod, but he does. “I know if I don’t take the whole day off, I’ll never get out of here in time. Not until it’s too late.”

For some reason, that makes Richie laugh. 

“Yeah. That's it.” Richie shakes his head as smoke trails out of his mouth. “That’s just it, man. You have to make time for the things that’re important. Even the recitals where you have to listen to five year olds play twinkle twinkle little star 20 times. You can’t miss shit like this. Because once you miss it, it’s gone.”

“Rich.” Carmy wants to say something to make that haunted expression leave Richie's face, but he doesn't come up with anything in time.

“Don’t give me that look.” Richie’s hand falls from his shoulder. “I’m just tryin’ to stop you from fucking shit up. They actually seem like a good person.”  

“Y’think so?”

“I do. You?”

“Yeah.” Carmy doesn’t bother hiding his smile, even though he can already sense Richie’s teasing coming from a mile away. “They’re a really good friend.”

“Friend. Sure.” Richie snorts. 

“Don’t push it,” and for some reason he adds, “they were gonna spend it alone.”

“Huh. Sociable guy like them spending it alone?”

“I know. I didn't ask. Maybe I should've.”

“Maybe. I dunno, cousin. Everyone's got their secrets. Especially the ones that try to act like they don't have any.”

“You're strangely full of wisdom today.”

“Fuck right off,” Richie responds in regular Richie fashion.

“I think they're like me. Like us.” Carmy's not sure why he's saying this on a Monday afternoon at work out of all times, but the truth bursts out of him beyond his will. Richie's expression shifts into something more solemn, something recognizable. “Y'know what I mean.”

“...Yeah.” Richie claps his hand on Carmy's back again. “Shitty parents club.”

As Carmy stands there in the back, feet sore and tobacco in the air, he sees his childhood in flashes. He's five years old again and is following Mike around with scuffed sneakers and untamed hair, although he supposes that unruliness never truly changed with time. There's warm sunlight filtering through green summer leaves. He hears his mother behind him, somewhere, but maybe he doesn't. 

He thinks of home, of his bedroom, and it is cold. He has homework he’s failed to complete again. It's sitting on his desk, on top of all of the other shit he can't finish. There's screaming, and he's not listening.

He blinks. He’s 30, and he hasn’t talked to his mom since Michael died.

“Shitty parents club,” Carmy repeats hollowly. 

. . . . .

When Thursday morning arrives, Carmy ends up greeting his roommate with flour in his hair and eggs sizzling on the pan. 

“Um,” they say, just as Carmy goes “G'morning.” They both freeze, brief awkwardness circling between them before it dissipates with their breathless laugh.

“Good morning. I didn't think you'd actually take off,” they admit.

“I said I would,” he replies quietly, but it's not accusatory. How many times had he said he'd be home for dinner just for him to arrive when they're already asleep? He tries not to make empty promises anymore. Nonetheless, he understands their surprise. “Um, I'm almost done with breakfast. I didn't get to the coffee yet.”

“Am I supposed to be offended?” They laugh. “That's the least I can do, with you doing all of this.” They sluggishly shuffle behind him to reach down into some kitchen cabinets. “It's a special day, so I'll even make us pour overs.”

“That's true. It is special.” He peeks over his shoulder, pausing from basting the eggs in brown butter to see them setting up on the kitchen island. They gently place the hourglass-shaped glass onto the counter with a light clink. He silently switches the button on for the electric gooseneck kettle to his right. “Am I allowed to wish you a happy birthday, or should I not?”

“Hm, I don't mind. Just don't overdo it, which I doubt you will.” They pull out a bag of coarse ground coffee and a filter. As soon as they open the bag, he can smell the sweet scent of the light roast floating towards him. 

“Okay. Then, happy birthday,” he says as casually as he can.

“Thanks, Carmy.” He studies their expression, searching for annoyance in their content expression, but he doesn't find any. “That's not even really what I meant by today being special, though.”

“How else did you mean it?” The eggs are done. He reaches over the hot pan to cut the heat.

“Well, y'know. I dunno if we’ve ever had a full day off together.” They're carefully scooping grounds into the filter fitted on top of the glass, creating a small hill. “I think I managed to catch you coming home early on my off days sometimes, but never a full day.”

“Huh.” Carmy has to take a minute to think about that one. “Yeah, I don't know either. I think you're right.”

“Then, like I said. It's special.” They seal up the bag of coffee grounds, and then they frown. “Shit. I forgot to turn on the kettle. Can you—”

“Already did it,” he reports, pleased, and his sense of accomplishment only doubles at their sigh of relief. 

“Thank god.” There's the familiar clicking sound of the kettle reaching the perfect temperature. “Just in time, too. Can you hand it to me?”

“Yes, chef,” he says, because it always makes them laugh. Today is no exception. He slides the metallic kettle over to them. 

“So what delights did you whip up over there?” They ask. They begin pouring the almost boiling water over their coffee grounds in a slow circle, gradually inching towards the middle. “It smells amazing. I want the full break-down.”

“The full break-down, got it.” On two circular plates, he's carefully placing a fried egg, thick cut bacon, and a slice of toast with jam and butter. “Uh…it's nothin’ special, just stuff we had in the fridge. We've got a, uh, brown-butter fried egg with a little paprika, sage, pepper, salt…”

“Oh, just an egg made with liquid gold, no big deal,” they imitate.

“Cut it out,” he snips back, but he's smiling and they know it. “There's honestly not much to it. This thick-cut bacon was in the back, so I cooked the rest of it. And the toast is just brioche with salted honey butter and blueberry jam.”

“Carmy. C'mon. That's nothing special to you?”

“I mean.” It's not quite nothing, he thinks. “I can make nicer breakfasts, is all.”

“That's what you said when you made me garlic bread, and that fucking blew my mind.” They set the kettle down with a thunk. The glass is full of dark coffee. Prepped next to them is their favorite glass mug alongside Carmy's. He's not sure how they knew that it was his favorite, but he doesn't question it.

“I'm just letting you know that you should wait to be really impressed.” 

“Too fucking late, man.” He's turned around and placed the two breakfast platters on the kitchen island, and they gawk openly at it. “Holy fuck.”

“It's ready,” he says, surprisingly meek. He can't comprehend why anxiety's hitting him now of all times. He's served acclaimed food critics, top-security government officials, and celebrities more times than he can count. Before that audience, he never faltered, but in front of his roommate in their crumpled pajamas, his heart stutters. 

“Oh, wow…” They regard the food with undeserved softness. Like a punctured balloon, his anxiety immediately begins deflating. They're staring at the food like it's a painting in a museum. “You seriously didn't have to do all of this.”

“I know. I just wanted to.” He feels heat on the back of his neck. “Is…is that okay?”

“It's more than okay.” Suddenly, he notices their eyes are puffy, like they were crying. “Goddamnit, get over here.” 

He only registers what's about to happen for one second before they're hugging him. Their palms are on his back, and the top of their head tucks under his chin perfectly. He makes a small, surprised noise. 

“I, I'm glad you like it.” He links his arms around them, allows himself to rest his chin on their head. With their face turned to the side, their ear's pressed up against his chest, and he's instantly struck with the paranoia that they're gonna hear his rapid heartbeat. 

“I haven't even taken a bite yet, and I love it.” They lean back then, arms still wrapped around him and head craned upwards to look at him. It's far too intimate for what they are, and Carmy hates how his heart beats even harder. “Thank you for doing all this. Seriously. I…”

“The breakfast's just a side thing, I'm, um, still baking you a cake.”

“What? You're doing this and a cake?”

“Um,” Carmy repeats intelligently.

“Carmy. Carmy, Carmy, Carmy.” Their words ooze affection, but surely he's just imagining it. Their hands are crawling up his back. “God, I could just ki—”

“There's the timer,” Carmy blurts out, because his phone's ringing and so are his ears. At the sound, they let him go, and he grabs two towels to retrieve the two circular cake pans from the oven. A toothpick poked through the middle comes out clean, so he sets them on a wire rack to cool. 

He needs to focus on the cakes. That's the most important thing.

“Oh my god.” They lean in close to the cake and take a deep breath. “Is this—”

“Devil's food cake, yeah.” The heat searing his face is surely from opening the oven. 

“You—how did you—” Their smile is luminous with joy. “You really pay attention to every little thing, don't you?”

“Sometimes. When it counts.” He fidgets awkwardly, nails picking at the sides of his fingers. “Wanna eat by the window, or…?”

“Fuck yeah I do. Can you bring the plates over? I'll have the coffee over in just a second.”

Carmy sets up at their little table first, placing the plates just right across from one another. The morning sun casts a cozy glow through their speckled window, streaking planes of light across the floor. He patiently waits and watches them pace from the fridge to the counter, splashing cream into their mugs. Through the transparent glass, he watches the white fizzle into the dark coffee, blending into a warm brown.

“Just a tiny spoon of sugar for you, right?” They peek over their shoulder, catching his stare, and he nods. He's also not quite sure how they know that, either. They've had coffee in the morning maybe a handful of times before.

He supposes they also pay attention sometimes, when it counts.

“Alright, here we go.” They bring a mug in each hand and set them delicately down on the table. He notes that his coffee is the perfect color. “Oh, thanks for waiting. You didn't have to.”

“I, I guess so, yeah. It's just, uh, you always wait for me, so…”

“That's—that's true.” An odd tension sets in their face, but they laugh it off, and it disappears. “I guess I’m not used to it anymore.”

A part of him wants to ask further by what they meant by that, but they're already taking pictures of his food so dutifully. He doesn't want to ruin it, so he eats. 

It's nice to have a solid breakfast for once. He had taken their advice from the other night and had been drinking milk with protein powder. It was nice not to feel like he was teetering the edge by lunch time, but truthfully, it was a bit unsavory. This breakfast platter is much more palatable. It also helps that his stomach pains aren't active today. 

Time rolls by slowly this quiet morning, and Carmy recognizes the oddity of it immediately. It's clear to see when by this time, he's usually already done at least ten laps through the restaurant. An irritating signal in his brain is telling him that he needs to get up and do something, not sit around and eat, but for once, he doesn't want to listen. 

A memory from roughly two weeks ago (or was it one week?) unearths all of sudden. He was up early, drinking shitty coffee and sinking into dissociation. Mornings were lonely, as he was usually the only one up, but not that day. His roommate came stumbling into the kitchen, awake from a restless night. They chatted before he had to head out, and he remembers wishing he had more time in the morning to spend with them. 

He imagined a morning just like this one, with pajamas, food, and messy hair. He daydreamed about having all the time in the world, and he thought about getting to spend it all with them. Now he’s sitting in that moment he imagined, except that it’s real. They're across from him in their wrinkled pajamas and bedhead, contentedly mowing through their food. There's a smear of jam on the corner of their mouth. He takes a sip of his coffee, and it's perfect, just as they made it for him. 

This amount of good should scare him, needs to scare him, but he just can't bring himself to care anymore. He wants more than nightmares, cigarettes, and floating just above the budget. He wants this.

He tastes his coffee and reminds himself that he’s still here. The moment hasn’t passed him by. 

“Is it good?” He asks quietly. It’s a rhetorical question, it always is, but he can’t help himself. He wants to hear it from them. 

“So. Fucking. Good.” They have to finish chewing before they answer. “You always knock it out of the park. If this is the prelude, I don’t know if I can handle what’s next,” they say, gesturing towards the cooling cake.

“It won’t be ready for a while yet. You have time to prepare yourself.” That makes them smile. All according to plan. “Got anything in mind for today?”

“Nothing glamorous. I was just gonna go out for a little. Go thrifting, maybe watch a movie later. Smoke a joint.” They shrug. “Just my usual sort of thing.”

“Mm.” He dusts off crumbs from the toast off his fingers on his pants. “Sounds like a good time. You still wanna go?”

“I do, yeah.” They stare at him for a moment, as if processing his words. Or just him. “Do you…wanna tag along, or…?”

Whenever they ask him if he wants to spend time together (whether it’s grocery shopping, smoking, or watching a show), they usually offer it with an air of nonchalance. Carmy’s assumed it’s been out of politeness, restraining their expression as to not put any pressure onto him. That’s the person he’s used to, not this uneasy anxiety, someone afraid to ask him to spend time with them.

It reminds him of himself in every way. 

“I’d love to tag along,” he answers easily, just as they’ve always done for him. “I’ve got the whole day off, after all.”

“Right. ‘Course.” He watches their little smile double in size. “I promise to not make you watch me try on clothes for too long.”

“I wouldn’t mind. I like thrifting, y’know.” And you, he thinks to himself. 

“You do? Oh, of course—” They make a contemplative noise to themself. “Vintage denim. I always wondered how you managed to have so many pairs.”

“Once you know where to look, they’re pretty easy to find. I can help you find some, if you want.”

“I’d love that. I realized the other day that I don’t have any dark wash jeans, so—actually, the truth is that I do have a pair, but they’re so fucked up and old that I never wear them anymore. Anyway, I need new jeans. Think you could find some dark wash blue jeans for me?”

“If you’re willing to hit up more than one store, then definitely,” he replies, just a smidge cocky.

“I’m willing to hit up even two more stores.” He pretends to gasp, to which they nod confidently. “Yeah. That’s right. Maybe even three.”

“We won’t need three,” Carmy promises. “I’m better than that. Probably won’t even need two, but…” He shrugs. “We’ll see what they’ve got.”

“Okay, Mr. Confident over here,” they tease. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

They head out after they both clean the kitchen and freshen up. Carmy gets the flour out of his hair and rewets his hair to revive some of his curls. He silently thanks his past self for showering the night before. With the passage of the morning cold and the rising sun, the afternoon weather’s become brisk and pleasant. However, the weather’s barely a factor in how he’s dressing. 

Is this too much? Is this not enough? He’s switching shirts and pants in the mirror like he’s about to go on a date. He knows he’s not, swears to himself that he’s not, but he’s put product in his hair and cologne on his wrists and temples. It’s not a date, but he can’t fucking decide what to wear. 

He sucks it up and settles on a gray sweater, light wash blue jeans, and white sneakers. From under his collar and at the bottom of his sweater peeks out a brown button up. It’s probably too much, but this is his sixth outfit change. He’s fed up with it and himself.

After adjusting the gold chain that got hidden under his collar, he steps out. 

He finds them already waiting by the door in this thick knit cardigan and fitted plaid pants that makes his heart stutter. When they hear him approaching, their head snaps up from their phone, and their skin sparkles with touches of makeup. 

“You look really nice.” He has no idea how he let that slip, but he’s more shocked that he didn’t stutter once. 

“Ah, th—thank you,” they stammer, fingers fidgeting with the edge of their sleeve. He’s not sure if it's their makeup or their skin that’s doing the blushing. It’s nice to see them being the one tripping over their words for once. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”

“Oh. Um.” Handsome? It echoes in his head. He instantly feels self conscious. So much for being the more suave one for once. “Thanks, uh…I just didn’t wanna wear my work clothes,” he lies in an attempt to ease his embarrassment.

“I gotcha.” He’s glad they don’t challenge him on it. “Shall we head out?”

“Yeah. Where we headed first?”

They take the metro to their personal favorite shop a little up north. The metro’s surprisingly busy for a Thursday afternoon, but the crowd forces the two of them to be huddled next to each other. They’re both standing close to a pole by the window, each with one hand wrapped around the metal. 

As passengers come and go, they step closer to him to move out of the way. Eventually it just gets to a point where they’re standing nearly pressed up against his chest. He tries not to dwell on how that makes him feel, but he can smell the fragrance they put on, and it’s very distracting. 

Luckily, the ride is short. Any longer on the train, he might’ve put an arm around their shoulder, god forbid. 

“If we can’t find what I’m looking for here, maybe you can show me one of your favorite spots to go thrifting,” they say as they enter the thrift store. The interior is decorated, clean, and lovely, and unlike the metro, it’s not packed to the brim with people. It smells faintly of incense, and there’s local art framed all over the walls for sale. It oozes warmth and excitement, much like them. 

“There’s a ton of shit here, so maybe we won’t need to after all.” He finds himself intaking everything at once, eyes flickering from sign to sign. “I’ve never been here before. This is really cool.”

“It’s my favorite place to find new clothes.” They trail down the racks, finger flitting between clothes. “I hope you can find something you like here, too.”

“I’m sure I will.” He’s already walking to their denim section and immediately spots some contenders. “I think I already have.”

He’s not sure if they mean to spend hours in there, but he certainly does. There’s more than just clothes to look at, although that’s what takes up most of his time. There’s dishes, furniture, cds, vinyls, books, even electronics. He goes back and forth with them, clothing articles piling up in his arms as they sit on battered couches together and peruse scratched cds. Everywhere he looks, there’s just more, more, and more. 

“Okay, I’ve gotta cut myself off,” they say as they leave the furniture section. They’ve sat on nearly every chair in that place. “I already have so many clothes to try on, and that’s not even including the jeans you’ve picked out for me.”

“If it helps, some of these are mine.” Carmy flips through the layers of hanging jeans that have built up on his forearm. “If you can believe it, I even found some stuff that isn’t denim.”

“I’m not sure if I can, but seeing is believing.” They thumb through some long-sleeves he’s carrying that are seeping out from under the jeans. “I’m just glad you were able to find some stuff for yourself, too. Not that I was that worried.”

He hands them the jeans he’s found for them, all dark wash and in their size. To his surprise, they also hand him an article of clothing for him to try on. 

“I thought you’d look good in this. You’ll have to show me when you try it on,” they say, and it’s innocent, completely meaningless, but as soon as Carmy agrees and rushes to hide in the changing room, he views in the mirror and sees his flushed face. 

Doesn’t mean anything, he repeats to himself, over and over and over. Stop getting in over your head.

He tries on his items of choice first. The first is a dark green henley that looked better on the rack than it did him, so he puts it in the reject pile. The second is a dark blue long sleeve that fits just right. It’s cheap, too, so it’s an automatic purchase. He presumes the way to word it is that it hugs him in all the right places, but he’s not sure. The rest are jeans, of which only one he decides to buy. A bit pricey, but for the brand and year, it’s worth it (although he basically always uses this reasoning with himself). 

Now, for the piece of clothing they picked out for him. It’s a dark brown t-shirt that seems like it’s just the right length. It’s a muted, yet warm brown, a bit rosey in hue. He doesn’t realize it’s a v-neck until he gets it over his head and down his shoulders. 

“I’ve never worn a v-neck before,” he calls out to the room next to him. 

“Oh, are you trying it on? Do you like it?” Their slightly muffled voice calls back to him. 

“Um…I’m not sure,” he admits with a shaky laugh. The collar is lower than he’s used to. It dips below his collarbones, and between them dangles his chain. “Should I show you?”

“Yes! Hold on, lemme get some pants on. …Okay, I’m stepping out!”

He hears their door open alongside his. When they see him, their expression snaps into what he believes is surprise and delight. He’s sure he looks somewhat the same. 

They’re wearing one of the vintage jeans he picked out for them—dark blue Levi’s. Although they’re rolled up a couple times at the bottom, it seems to fit them just right. As he stares, he’s reminded of his many pairs of Levi’s, and it’s more or less like seeing them in his clothes, which is. Which is. Uh. Yeah.

“I knew that would suit you,” they say with a grin, to which he realizes he can’t hide his blush. 

“It’s not weird?”

“Not at all. It looks good.” They tilt their head to the side as they openly look him over, hip cocked. Something in their gaze is making him hot. “No pressure to buy it, of course.”

“It’s different from what I’m used to, but…” He looks down, smooths the fabric with his palm. “It’s kinda nice, something like this. Um, and what do you think about the jeans?” He needs to direct the attention off him quickly. 

“Oh, I love them. The others ended up fitting not quite right on me, but that’s how it goes.” They move from side to side, almost twirling. It’s cute. “I love these, though. Just a little long, but I’m used to it.”

“That’s how it always is. I can hem them for you, if you want. I usually hem mine.”

“And he sews,” they say, seemingly to themself, but they’re looking right at him. Embarrassing. “If you don’t mind, that’d be amazing. Either way, I’m probably getting them.”

“Good. You should. They fit well.” 

“Yeah?” They glance back into their fitting room, likely examining themself in the mirror, and then back at him. “Okay, then. Definitely getting them.” With that and a cheeky grin, they go back into their dressing room to try on the rest of their clothes. Carmy follows suit, grateful to hide his embarrassed face. 

Carmy heads to check out with the dark blue long sleeve, a pair of jeans, and the brown v-neck. They’ve decided on the pair of jeans they showed him earlier and a little purple tank-top he wishes he got to see on them. 

“Will that be all for you today?” The cashier asks him as he checks out first. Even the cashiers here are pretty nice, he finds. 

“Oh, their stuff, too.” He nods to them, who’s standing right next to him. 

“Carmy.” They glare at him. 

“What?” He feels himself smiling. 

“You can’t do this to me.”

“C’mon.” He nudges them gently with his elbow. “It’s my present to you.”

“Oh, so the present wasn’t the breakfast? Or the cake? Or helping me pick these out?”

“Why can’t it be all of them?” He decides to stop this in its tracks and takes the clothes out of their hands, sliding it onto the counter. “Just these two, and that’ll be it.”

“Just you wait until your birthday hits,” they mutter darkly, shaking their head. “Just you wait.”

“I haven’t told you my birthday.” He pauses. “Right?”

“I’ll ask Richie.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You’re giving me no choice.”

“You could also just, I don't know, not ask—”

“I wouldn't have to if you didn't force my hand—”

“You guys are cute together,” the cashier comments with a smile, surely a harmless, meaningless thing, but it shuts the both of them up. Carmy can already feel the impact of it on his psyche, and he decides to tuck away the surging emotions to unpack later. At least, he'll try. 

“You really didn't have to get those for me,” they tell him when they're exiting the store. “But I guess I should just be saying thank you. So…thank you.”

“Sure. I mean, it would've been better if it was wrapped and stuff, but…” He shrugs. “Had to get you a real present, not just food.”

“Not just food, my ass.” That makes him laugh. “It'll be nice to have something to remind me of this day, though. That's one of the nice parts of getting gifts. Everytime I wear these clothes, I'll think of you.”

“Good. Yeah, that's…good,” he finishes lamely. He nods like their words haven't flustered him, but he's sure they can tell. They laugh, and he can tell it's because of his reaction. 

“I'm sorry that the cashier said that,” they say out of nowhere.

“Why're you apologizing? It's not your fault.” Any embarrassment he was feeling before is immediately replaced with a new, more potent sort of embarrassment. He was hoping they wouldn't mention it. 

“I guess that's true. I don't know, I just…” They trail off. “Just hope it didn't upset you.”

“Not at all,” he lies, and he prays they believe it.

. . . . .

The metro is less crowded on the way home. They sit comfortably next to each other and watch the city pass them by. A part of Carmy mourns the closeness they had on the way there, but the other part tells him to get it together and keep his distance. 

“I'mma take a nap,” they say with a yawn. Their cardigan and bag have been tossed onto the couch. The new clothes have been thrown into the laundry machine, and there's the muffled sound of running water. “Maybe we could smoke and watch a movie later, though.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” He peers into the fridge to check on the cake rounds. Just as he left them. “Have a good nap.”

“Thanks, Carm,” they reply sleepily. “Wouldn't be a good day if I didn't get to have a nice nap, after all.” With that, they shuffle into their room and shut the door behind them.

Carmy spends the next two hours flying around the apartment, baking, cooking, cleaning. The sun slowly sets as he goes. He keeps his body and hands moving in hopes that his head doesn't have a chance to catch up, but it manages to keep the pace. It always does.

The crumb coat's fucked up on the left, his first train of thought says. He inspects the surface, eyes following the circumference of the cake. There's a little loose crumb. With the edge of his spatula, he tucks the crumb away. 

The faint smell of chocolate wafts up from the cold cake rounds. He's hunched over the kitchen island, hands reaching between dark chocolate frosting and cake. The afternoon sun casts harsh lights onto the cake, and it glistens. He genuinely can't remember the last time he's made a layered cake. He's never been much of a baker, anyhow. 

You're going to disappoint them, his second train of thought interrupts, running parallel to the other one at full speed. Who do you think you are? You don't make cakes. 

He leans back, inspects his work. The crumb coats are perfect. 

Fuck off, he thinks back, triumphant. Look at that shit. He runs his finger along the spatula, picking up congealed crumbs and frosting. He licks it off, and it's delicious. And it tastes good, asshole. So shut the fuck up.

You're being a nuisance, the thoughts continue. Carmy's pops the crumb coats in the freezer for a quick set. They don't actually like any of this. They're just being nice to make you feel better.

They seemed happy to me, he thinks, but he's faltering. He's washing the dishes, and the sensation of the warm water feels distant. They loved the food I made.

Couldn't you tell they were lying? He doesn't understand why these thoughts are rampaging through his head now of all times. It's not unfamiliar, but it's inconvenient. Keep this up, and you'll actually be surprised when they drop you.

Without warning, a memory hits him . As his hands drip with soap, he's reminded of playing with Michael and Sugar in the summer when he was five. Or six, or seven, he's never quite sure. They were outdoors at a local park, and the heat made the metal of the playground searing hot to the touch.

He was blowing bubbles, and the sticky mixture from the bottle was getting all over his hands. In his memory, Carmy watches the way the iridescent bubbles floated away and left little circles on the surface of the plastic slide. He can't remember why he wasn't playing with the others. He can remember the sound of their laughing voices in the distance, gleeful and delighted without him. He thinks he tried to join in, but it didn't work. It often just didn't work, and it was all his fault. 

The memory ends, and Carmy's finished washing the dishes. 

This is working, he thinks to himself. His hands are dried out from the hot water and soap. I swear to you, it's working. So just stop. Okay?

There's no response. Good enough. 

He hears the door opening as soon as he's putting the finishing touches on the cake. With a damp paper towel, he carefully swipes away stray drops of frosting that fell onto the cake stand. He thinks it's best described as if a tiramisu was turned into a devil's food cake. It's not the best cake he's ever made, but it's definitely up there in terms of looks. All the components of the cake tasted good separately, so he hopes it makes sense in his mouth as much as it did in his head. 

“Have a nice nap?” He asks before he turns his head. They're standing in the hallway, bed hair hastily tied back.

“Sorta. It was okay.” Their eyes are glued onto the cake as they walk up to the island. “Is this…?”

“This is for you, yeah,” he finishes for them. They take a seat on one of the chairs at the island. “It's a, uh, devil's food cake with vanilla mascarpone cream on the inside. The outside's this coffee buttercream…” He trails off, not knowing what else to say. He could mention the dutch processed cocoa powder, the expensive vanilla bean pods, or the endless sifting, but it feels too gratuitous. 

“Wow…” They're still staring, as if it's not quite real to them. “I can't believe this is for me. It almost looks too pretty to eat, but you know I can't wait to tear into this.”

“We could, uh, have it now, if you, if you want,” he says hesitantly. 

“I don't know if I could wait.” Their smile grows wider. “You even put candles on it?”

“We don't have to light them or anything if you don't want to,” he adds quickly. 

“The candles are the fun part. I don't mind that. The song is…okay I guess, but…” They give him an expectant, excited look. “Were you gonna sing for me?”

“...Only if you wanted to,” he mumbles, suddenly stricken with embarrassment. 

“Would that be okay? If I wanted that?”

“I wouldn't mind.” Not if it's you.

“Okay. Then, yeah.” They pull out a lighter from their pocket. “I’d really like that.”

Carmy cuts the overhead lights before taking out his own lighter to help them light the rest of the candles. One by one, the dark room gradually illuminates until it's filled with a warm, orange glow. The flickering flames cast shifting shadows onto their smiling face and reflect into their glossy eyes. 

“Ready?��� He asks quietly. 

“I'm ready,” they whisper. 

Carmy doesn't really need to clear his throat, but he does so anyway. He can't recall the last time he sang happy birthday to anyone, let alone by himself. This is the first time he's ever sung in front of an audience, too. 

I can do this, he thinks to himself. I can do this.

His voice is awkward and scratchy. He never uses it like this, has never sang for anyone in his life. His ears burn, and he hates the sound of his voice, but he reminds himself to focus on their delighted little smile and warm gaze. The room is far too quiet for his voice, making the words painfully clear. 

“Happy birthday to you,” he finishes singing, voice trailing off awkwardly. He's more than ready to finish singing now. “Uh, make a wish…?”

“Right.” The two of them sit in the flickering candle light for a moment longer, the silence thick. Carmy watches their face, their eyes boring into the candles with an expression he can only describe as longing. Then, they blow out the candles with a decisive blow, and the room goes dark. 

He moves to switch on the lights. When he turns back to look at them, tears are streaming down their face. 

“Hey,” he says softly. He props his elbows on the counter, standing across from them and tilting his head to the side. They're not meeting his gaze, glazed eyes boring into the dripping candles. “What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry,” they whisper with a sniffle, and it sounds like a reflex. Something about them suddenly seems so much smaller. “I shouldn't be crying.”

“It's okay. I don't mind.” That makes them smile, even if it's shaky. “Was the singing too much?”

“No, it wasn't your singing,” they say with a laugh. “Your singing was lovely. It's just—I'm so happy. You made today so special.”

“Yeah?” He fights the urge to reach over and wipe their tears. “I'm glad. I wanted to make it good. I…” He hesitates. “...I didn't like the idea of you spending it alone.”

“I didn't either. And I thought I was going to have to be alone…but then you—then you took off work, and you made me breakfast, you went shopping with me—even got me clothes—and now this—” Another rush of tears gushes from their eyes, and they hastily wipe at it with their shirt. 

“You've done way more for me. This is the least I could do.” Before he can stop himself, his hand is brushing hair out of their eyes. They freeze for a split second, eyes finally flickering up towards him. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It's okay,” they whisper back. “Um…” They let out a shaky sigh, the sort of trembling sound that happens after crying too much. “I feel like I should explain.”

“You don't have to if you don't want to,” he assures them quickly, “but I…I'd like to know. If that's okay.”

“I want you to know. I, I do.” They open their mouth to keep talking, but shaky breaths continue to stifle them. It's hard to watch.

“Breathe,” he reminds them, quietly. He visibly takes in a deep breath, silently encouraging them to breathe with him. They follow suit, closing their eyes and taking a slow breath. Tears slip silently from their eyes. Gradually, their breathing becomes less of a staccato, evening out into something much more manageable. 

“Thank you,” they murmur. He nods. They already sound a lot calmer. “I'm not sure where to start. I…I suppose I'll start with today.” Another deep breath. “I didn’t get a call from my parents today.”

“Ah…” The first missing piece.

“I knew they weren’t going to. But a part of me still hoped…” They stop and shake their head. “It's the first year that it's been like this.”

“What happened?”

“Uh…I went no contact with my family about a year ago.” Another pained, hollow laugh. The second piece. “I didn't even really want to—it was a complicated, shitty situation. My parents were being their usual shitty selves, and I just wanted them to apologize. It was over such a small thing, and, and I just…I don't know. I thought maybe I could fix things.” He's never seen them with such a heavy expression, etched with such weariness. “I just wanted them to apologize to me, Carm. That's all I wanted. And then they cut me off cold.”

Their voice is trembling again, and the tears are falling faster. The collar of their shirt is dark with moisture. Carmy hates that he doesn't know what to say. He hates just staring at them, silent as he tries to find the words. 

Suddenly, he thinks of Michael. 

“Michael never let me work in the restaurant,” he tells them. “That's why I went to culinary school. A big part of it, anyway. He just cut me off, didn't let me in no matter what I did, and it was…” He makes a vague hand gesture. “I felt insane. I was so fucking angry. I couldn't understand him. And I'm not saying that's anything like what you've been through, but…” He looks into their watchful eyes. “I'm sorry. I think I'm trying to say that I, that I understand. A little.”

“I…I appreciate that.” They give him a small, wobbly smile. He adores their smile, but seeing it through their tears twists something painfully in his chest. “He would've been lucky to have you. You're an excellent chef.”

“I am now, anyway.” He sighs. “Your family's missing out on you, too. You're…” Say it. Just say it. “You're a really wonderful person. I can't imagine…”

I can't imagine anyone looking at you and not loving what they see, he thinks suddenly, and he instantly realizes he can't say it. He can barely even comprehend that he just thought it. 

He can't process this right now. This isn't the time. 

“I keep trying to wrap my head around it all, wondering what I did wrong, what I could've done better… Sometimes, the conclusion I arrive at is that I must have done something to deserve this. That I just, I don't know, that maybe I'm just this permanent fuck-up, and…” They run a tired hand over their wet face, through their hair. “My parents fucked me up real good, man.”

There's something familiar about their words, and Carmy realizes it's because it sounds like him. He would've never guessed that under their easy-going smiles was a reflection of himself. He recognizes himself in their self-deprecation, the bone-deep pain. There was always a sense of sympathetic connection between the two of them, but he had no idea. He had no idea how far deep the mutual experiences went. 

A part of him still can't believe that this is the truth, that this is what lies at their core, but then he remembers. He thinks about the night they were throwing up into the toilet. They were sobbing, crying into his shoulder about how much they hate themself. 

“You know you didn't deserve it. Right?” Carmy's not sure when they started leaning in so close to each other. He's looking at their wet eyelashes with startling clarity. “You did all you could.”

“You don't know that.” Their words are so soft-spoken, but it still catches him off guard. “You don't know what happened.”

“You—” Irritation prickles inside him, his instincts itching to snap back, but he doesn't. He sees himself in them, and he holds back. “You're right. I don't know what happened. But I know you.” The shock is on their face as clear as day. “At least, I think I do.”

“I want to think you do, too,” they whisper. “But this—this messy bullshit is also me. I wish it wasn't. I wish you didn't have to see all this. I…don't want you to…think any less of me.”

“I don't think there's anything you could do to make me think less of you.” He doesn't resist dragging his thumb across a stray tear on their cheek. To his surprise, they lean into his touch. “Y'know when I almost burned down the apartment?”

“Oh my god.” They smile, and he feels their grinning cheek against his palm. “Yeah. Is it crazy to say I remember it fondly?”

“A little bit.” They laugh. It's quiet, but it's real. “Remember that talk we had after?”

“I do. Why?”

“You're allowed to mess up on onions,” he says softly. “It won't push me away.”

They stare at him for what feels like a long time. Their eyes refill with tears, but they don't spill. With a clammy hand, they shakily place their hand on top of his hand that's still cradling their wet cheek.

“Fucking onions,” they say finally with a wet laugh. Fresh tears drip onto his thumb, and he wipes them away again. As many times as it takes. “God damnit, Carmy.”

“No one deserves to have shitty parents, let alone ones that walk out on them.” He thumbs away more tears. “You being an imperfect person like everyone else doesn't justify that.”

“There must be something more I could've done,” they whisper. “Something I did wrong.”

“Maybe. But they're your parents, not the other way around. It's not your fault.”

“I know. I know that. I do. There just has to be a reason, because—fuck—the truth would just be too fucked up.”

“...And that is?”

It takes a long, still minute before they can get their words out.

“...It’s—it's that—” Their cries are verging on sobs, increasingly more staggered and uncontrollable. “It's that s-some kids—are just—some kids have parents that will never—never love—”

They can't finish. Their sobs have overtaken their whole body. Their body's hunched over the counter, curled into themself. Carmy can't think of a time where he's ever seen them crying so hard.

Without another word, Carmy pulls them into a hug. 

They cry for a long time. Through it all, fleeting condolences pass Carmy by in his head, but they all feel too cheap, too meaningless. So all he does is hold them tight, letting them grab onto his shirt and soak the fabric on his shoulder. It's all he feels he can really do. 

After a while, the tide subsides. He feels them wilting in his arms, exhausted from sobbing so violently. He doesn't actually want to let them go, but their sniffling nose sounds like it's completely stopped up. 

“I'm gonna get you some tissues, ok?” He says quietly. They make a quiet noise of acknowledgement, and they pull back. He snatches up a box of tissues from the coffee table. He places it in front of them before grabbing them a glass of water. 

“Thank you,” they mumble, voice scratchy. Carmy stands and watches as they blow through several tissues. The water gets downed instantaneously. 

“Better?”

“Yeah. A lot better.”

“Good.”

“...I think, deep down, I know I didn't deserve what happened. Or just having shitty parents in general.” They sigh. “It's just easier to think that I do. That I deserve it.”

“...Yeah.” That resonates with a part of him he's not quite ready to acknowledge. “You're one of the kindest people I've ever met,” he admits quietly. “If someone like you deserves a shitty hand in life, I'm fucked.”

“Carmy…” Their smile is small, but genuine. “Thank you. I want to be able to genuinely believe that, one day. I'm going to try.”

“I know. I get it.”

“I know you do.” 

That makes both of them smile, even if it's bitter. 

“Thanks for telling me. About everything.”

“No, thank you for listening. For just being there for me.” They prop their chin in their hands, their elbows resting on the counter. “Y'know, this past year, I've been trying to find a sense of joy in all this mess. Sometimes it just feels so far away, like…like any happiness is just impossible. But I think I've found it. Rather, I've already found it.”

“Yeah?” Carmy looks at them expectantly, but he never expected this—

“I found you,” they tell him. 

“...” He immediately fixes his shocked expression. He's at a loss for words. 

Me?

“I never found a chance to mention it, but…my parents are the reason I decided to live with you. That's why I wanted to be your roommate, even though we were strangers.” They shrug shyly. “My lease was up on my last place. I was gonna go home, but then all that stuff happened at the last minute, and…yeah. I needed to find a place to live.”

“Seriously?” They just nod. “Damn. Uh…Yeah, that's fucking crazy. I had no idea.”

“At the time, I was miserable. I kept thinking to myself, ‘I can't believe how shitty this situation is!’ Don't get me wrong, it was fucking awful, but…it led me to you, so…it wasn't really all that bad, in the end. I got lucky.”

Fucking hell, he thinks to himself. Fuck.

“If you hadn't roomed with me, I wouldn't have been able to come back home for my brother's restaurant,” he says, mostly because he's so embarrassed that he swears his whole body's red at this point. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. “I think I'm the lucky one.”

“Can't we both be lucky?”

“I guess we can. Just doesn't seem very realistic.”

“Little too late to say that. It's already real.”

“...There's no other shoe?”

“Not that I know of. I think the other shoe's already dropped for us a while ago. Surely there's no other shoes left?”

“I hope not. I don't know if I could take another one.”

“Me neither.”

“...”

“...”

“Do you…want to eat your cake now?”

“Fuck, oh my god—I completely forgot! Yes!”

Just as Carmy planned, the flavors go perfectly together. Even though he knew it was going to be delicious, when he takes the first bite of the cake, relief washes over him. They seem to be overjoyed, inhaling the cake at dangerous speeds. 

“You're gonna hurt yourself if you eat that fast,” he observes, both amused and concerned. 

“Can't talk. Need to eat this.” That makes him laugh so abruptly he nearly gets cake up his nose. “This is the best birthday cake I've ever had, both visually and taste-wise.”

“I'm glad. Like I said, I'm not really a baker, but…I make an alright cake.”

“You make a fantastic cake.” They’ve got a bit of frosting on the corner of their mouth. “It doesn't get much better than this—eating a cake made by you.”

“Because I'm a chef, you mean?”

“No, not that. Not just that, anyway,” they amend with a cheeky grin. “Because you're my best friend.”

You're my best friend.

…

I'm their best friend, he repeats to himself. I'm their best friend.

He thinks about crying. He won't cry, but he thinks about it.

“Oh,” he replies intelligently. “...Really?”

“Y-Yeah. Unless, uh, you don't—”

“You're my best friend too,” he blurts out, and the anxiety on their face fades away into a relieved, beautiful smile. 

“Thank god. That would've been pretty awkward if you didn't…” They shake their head. 

“I've never been anyone's best friend before,” he confesses. 

“Seriously?” They recover from the shock quickly. “Lucky me, then.”

“I thought you established we were both the lucky ones.” 

“Oh, right.” They chuckle. “Lucky both of us, then.”

Carmy thought that life would always be the same. He thought that he was fated to a routine of nausea and nightmares, never quite close enough to reach a rest point. He thought that he was okay with it being his fate, because he never knew anything else. 

He thought that loneliness, cigarettes, and memories would be enough, because it always stays the same. Nothing ever changes. 

Until them. 

He thought he had outgrown happiness, that his body had grown accustomed to living without it. That there was no longer space in his heart to withstand the weight of joy. But as he sits here with his roommate, chatting and laughing over a cake he made for them, he finds that's not true.

His capacity for happiness had never left. It had been there all along. 

And with that, something in him lets go.

Carmy sees it all at once. It starts from the beginning—he sees the first day he met them, an initially hesitant meeting gone surprisingly well. He sees the first time the two of them smoked together, deliriously laughing through shared smoke. He sees them in the mornings, messy hair and wrinkled t-shirts. He sees them in nothing but an apron. He sees them in tight black clothes that leave little to the imagination. He sees them laughing at a joke that he didn’t think was all that funny. 

He sees them in his dreams, red tomato puree bleeding from their gums. He sees them holding his trembling hands in theirs, soothing him back down from the storm in his hand. He sees them comforting him through his tears. He sees them sobbing, hot tears on their cheek and his hand. He sees them heaving into the toilet, whispering that they want to know him. He sees himself, embracing them tightly in his arms. 

He sees it all. He knows that he can't avoid it anymore. 

Carmy is completely, undeniably in love with them, and there is absolutely nothing that he can do to make that realization disappear.

…Some things, he understands, refuse to stay the same.

~

@zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @carmenbrzatto @thehouseofevangelista

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy the bear #the bear fx #my fics #alexithymia fic #GOD. IT'S FINALLY HERE. THIS ONE'S A BEAST. #ch 6 is gonna be the climax..... it's gonna happen yall. it's finally here. hahahaha #anyway this one took so long to write because it was so revealing for me... as i'm sure yall have guessed. sigh.

[allthelovehes]

Enemies at Nine, Lovers by Five* | Part 2

Summary: Harry and Y/N suddenly need to fly out to Portugal for work and their boss only booked one (twin) room because the hotel was overbooked..

Pairing: Coworker!Harry x reader

Word count: 6.2K

Warnings: Unprotected sex, smut, slight dom if you squint, mentioned being a good girl maybe once, Y/N is a bitch but she likes it rough.

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A/N: I'm still very new to this enemies to loves trope so if its not as good, please don't come for me. Also, let me just tell you once again.. Wrap it before you tap it :')

The next day when Y/N arrives at work, Harry is already seated behind his desk. She doesn't even look at him as she sets her belongings down and settles into her own chair. The silence between them is deafening, and the tension is palpable. It's obvious that they're both thinking about what happened last night, but neither of them is willing to bring it up. It's as if they have silently agreed to pretend that it never happened.

It's a tense morning, but they somehow manage to finish the presentation they had to prepare for the board meeting later that day. After lunch, Y/N is seated in the conference room, anxiously waiting for the meeting to start. Harry is sitting next to her, his posture dominant and confident. He is sitting in the exact chair he pushed aside just hours ago to make room for him to kneel down and eat her out. Y/N swallows hard and forces herself to focus on the matter at hand.

The rest of the board members enter the room, and the meeting begins. Y/N starts the presentation, her voice shaking slightly as she talks about their company's progress. Harry watches her, his eyes glued to her lips. He can't help but imagine her beautiful mouth wrapped around his cock. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, willing himself to stay focused.

Harry gets up and walks over to the large screen, touching the small of Y/N's back in the process. It's the briefest of touches, but it sends a jolt of electricity through her body. She can feel her cheeks flushing, and she prays that no one will notice. Harry takes over the presentation, his voice steady and authoritative. She can't help but admire his confidence and command. She wonders if he feels the same way about her.

After the presentation is over, the board members file out of the room, their voices low and murmuring. Harry and Y/N are left alone once again. They gather their things and make their way to the door. Just before they exit the room, Harry turns to Y/N. He doesn't say anything, but the look in his eyes tells her everything she needs to know. He wants her. And he's not going to stop until he has her.

Y/N swallows hard, her heart racing. She knows she should walk away, but she can't. She wants him too, and he is literally blocking her only way out. Her breath quickens, and she feels her resolve crumbling.

“You did so good.” Is all he says, before he exits the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Y/N has to admit to herself, his praise turns her on. She knows she should not allow this to happen, but she can't help herself. He's all she can think about. She makes her way back to her desk and finds Harry already returned to his own desk in front of hers.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” She asks, trying to act normal. Although this isn't normal for her at all. Y/N isn't the type of colleague to retrieve coffee for her coworkers. She prefers to be the one receiving it, not the one bringing it.

“Sure.” Harry says, his tone is neutral, not betraying any of his emotions. Y/N nods and leaves. The moment between them doesn't go unnoticed by their colleagues, and she can hear them whispering amongst themselves.

Y/N returns with two cups of coffee and hands one to Harry. Their fingers brush, and she feels a shiver run through her body. She hopes he doesn't notice.

“Thank you.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Y/N.”

The way he says her name sends shivers down her spine. She can't help but remember the way he moaned it last night, his voice thick with desire. She bites her lip and turns away, willing herself to calm down.

“You're welcome.” She replies, trying to keep her voice steady. She busies herself with her work, but she can't focus. All she can think about is Harry and what happened between them. The memory of his touch and the way he felt inside her are burned into her mind, and she knows she will never be able to forget it. ***

“Fucking hell.” Y/N curses as she opens an incoming e-mail from their boss.

“What is it?” Harry asks.

“Check your mail.”

Harry does and curses too. The client for which they are currently working was supposed to fly in for their final presentation. Now they have to fly out to the client instead.

“That means we're going on a trip.” Harry says.

“I hate travelling.” Y/N groans.

“Come on, it could be fun.” Harry replies.

“Fun? I can't stand travelling and flying. It's the worst.” Y/N replies.

“Then let me distract you.” Harry whispers.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean Y/N.” Harry says.

Y/N feels her heartbeat speed up, her body instantly reacting to his words. She knows exactly what he means, and the thought of it excites her. But she can't. Not again.

“Don't.” She says, her voice barely audible.

Harry doesn't say anything, just stares at her. His eyes are full of promise, and she can't resist. She knows she shouldn't, but she wants him. And he wants her too.

The e-mail also said how they can drop by their boss' office if they have any questions, he's supposedly available until 5 PM. Y/N and Harry make their way there. Even though they don't have any questions they knock anyway.

“Come in.” Their boss' voice sounds muffled through the closed door. Harry opens the door and Y/N quickly slips through, he swiftly closes the door behind him after he takes a good look at her round ass.

“Hey guys, thanks for stopping by. Let me just finish this e-mail real quick and then we can talk.”

He's sitting at his desk typing away furiously on the keyboard. It gives Y/N and Harry time to sit down on the couch on the other side of the room. Y/N is aware of how close they are, their bodies are nearly touching. She can feel the heat radiating off of him and it's driving her insane.

After a few moments, their boss ends his typing and comes over to sit across from them, facing the couch. He claps his hands together and begins to explain more details about the trip.

“So, we're going to have to fly the two of you out to Faro, Portugal. Your meeting is at the Ocean Mar hotel, which is also where you'll be staying. Unfortunately, they didn't have a lot of room options available so we had to book you a twin room instead of individual rooms. I know it's not ideal but hopefully, you guys will still have a great trip. You can put all food and drinks on the room's tab and they will just add it to the bill at the end of your stay. Do you have any questions so far?”

“Twin room?” Y/N says, almost like a question. She glances over at Harry and tries not to blush at the image of sharing a room with him.

“Yes, that's right. Two queen beds. Now, with the potential hotel mix-up, there is a chance that there may be some other rooms available last minute, so they are keeping an eye out and will try their best to switch you if necessary. But they also had to be upfront about their current room inventory for booking purposes, so I didn't want you to get your hopes up too much.”

“No, that's okay. I understand. Thank you.” Y/N says quietly. The thought of sharing a room with Harry, even a room with two beds, is a lot to process. They might have fucked once, but they aren't really the best of friends.

“You're welcome. You'll be flying out on Friday, so make sure to pack accordingly. You'll have some time to do some sightseeing if you'd like, the hotel is in a pretty nice area, and it's very touristy. And the big meeting is on Monday. Therefore we booked a return flight on Tuesday morning.” Their boss continues.

“Sounds good, thanks so much.” Harry replies, always the professional.

“Of course. I know this all happened last minute but I think you'll have a great time! I'll look forward to hearing all about it when you guys get back.”

“Thanks again!” Y/N says, and she and Harry get up to leave. They walk out of the office and back to their desks to pack up their stuff.

“Looks like we're going on a little vacation Y/N.” Harry says, grinning at her.

“Looks like it.” She replies, returning his smile. She can't deny that she is secretly looking forward to it. ***

Before they know it, it's Friday afternoon and they're heading towards the airport. Their boss arranged a taxi to pick them up and drive them there. Y/N is a wreck because she hates flying. She takes a deep breath as the plane gets ready to take off, gripping her seat and trying to relax.

Harry offers her his hand, which she gratefully accepts. They share a look as the plane takes off, and Y/N feels like maybe this flight won't be so bad after all. As the plane climbs higher into the sky, the tension between them builds. They are holding hands, staring at each other, both of them clearly thinking the same thing.

As the plane is in the air, the captain's voice comes on over the loudspeaker to welcome them.

“If I could have your attention, please. Welcome aboard EasyJet flight 239 to Faro, Portugal. My name is David, and I'll be your captain for today. The weather looks perfect for the trip ahead, and we're anticipating a smooth ride. Please enjoy your flight and thank you for flying EasyJet.” The voice cuts out as the plane stabilizes.

“See? That wasn't so bad.” Harry says. Y/N smiles, but she's not entirely convinced yet.

Harry orders himself a bottle of wine and offers to share it with Y/N. She reluctantly accepts, seeing as they are in fact, on vacation, and she could use a little bit of help to relax. The flight is about three hours long and goes fairly quickly. The wine helps, and they end up making a decent dent in the bottle.

Y/N is feeling relaxed and a bit tipsy by the time the flight ends. The cab pulls up and it's a short drive to their hotel. They check in and go up to their room to drop their bags. As Y/N opens the door and looks around, she finds that her stomach does a little flip. Sure enough, the room contains two beds, but they are quite close together. She swallows and tries to tamp down the feelings of excitement and anticipation growing in the pit of her stomach.

Harry doesn't say anything, but she can feel him watching her. They put their things down, quickly freshen up and head down to the restaurant for some dinner. After dinner, they decide to walk around the city and see some of the sights. It is relatively late at night but the sun is still setting and the sky is beautiful, and the temperature is warm and not too hot.

Y/N can't help but notice how close she and Harry are walking to each other as they make their way along the narrow streets, the sidewalks only big enough for two people to walk shoulder to shoulder. She tries to ignore the feeling and tells herself it's just because they need to stay close to make room for the other passersby. But the feeling lingers, a flutter of excitement.

It almost feels like they are two completely different people now that they are in a foreign country, with a warm summery breeze blowing through the air, the sound of music and laughter in the distance. Everything seems romantic and fresh, the air itself feels charged with possibilities and tension. It's as if they both subconsciously feel this and it makes it easier for them to navigate their strange new dynamic.

After their little stroll around town, they return to their hotel and head up to their room. They both take turns to use the bathroom and get ready for bed, not sharing a word with each other as the reality of sleeping just inches away from each other starts to set in. Before going to sleep they both sit down on their own bed, on their own respective sides.

Harry and Y/N finally lie down on their own beds in silence, both tired from the day's excitement. As Y/N pulls the blankets up and tries to get comfortable, she can't help but toss and turn, unable to find the perfect position. She sighs loudly and shifts again, her mind racing.

“You okay?” Harry asks, his voice low and deep.

“Yes. No.” She replies.

“What's wrong?”

“I'm fine, I just can't seem to fall asleep.”

“Me neither.” Harry replies. Y/N laughs softly. She can't believe that she and Harry are having this conversation, and can't believe that she's even admitting that she can't fall asleep. She turns around and finds Harry already staring at her, his eyes dark and full of intensity. Her breath hitches as the weight of the moment settles upon them.

“I think it's the plane.” She whispers, half-hoping that he'll leave the subject alone.

“You think?” Harry chuckles, he already knows she's full of shit. It's like he can feel the tension running from her body. “Y/N.”

A jolt goes through her body at the way her name sounds coming out of his mouth, the roughness and almost demanding tone. “W-what?”

“Come here.”

“Harry...”

“Come here.” Harry repeats, raising his voice slightly, letting his tone show how serious he is. And damn her but the dominant edge does something to her. She bites her lip and gets up to join him on his bed. He already has his duvet pushed to the side. When she finally slips underneath, he immediately gathers her up in his arms and buries his face in her neck. She doesn't fight it, instead, she wraps her arms around him and enjoys his warmth.

Luckily both of them had the decency to wear pajamas. Y/N is in a silk shortama set and Harry is wearing a plain white shirt and some sweat shorts. Being this close to him feels dangerous. He smells so good, and the weight of his muscular body pressed against hers is intoxicating.

“Thank you.” Y/N whispers after a few minutes of silence.

“For what?” Harry asks, his voice thick and laced with sleep. She shrugs.

“Just... for understanding. For not being mean to me.” She says.

“Mhm, see, you got that wrong there. I've never been the mean one.” He mumbles against her neck.

“Excuse me?” She replies, sounding as offended as a sleepy person can be.

“You're not a walk in the park, love.” He chuckles as he snuggles her closer to his chest.

“And you are?” She manages to get out, stifling a yawn.

“I guess not. But who cares? We're in Portugal, might as well have fun.”

“Fun.” She repeats softly.

“Yeah. For example, what's it called when you fuck your coworker and then you're sent off on a work trip and end up in the same hotel room?” He says, his lips now grazing the shell of her ear.

“A disaster?” She whispers.

“Or fun.” He hums before a big yawn escapes his mouth, shortly followed by her own.

Both of them stay quiet, with Harry holding her tightly and Y/N enjoying his embrace. Harry doesn't show it, but his heart is hammering in his chest. He knew that inviting her into his bed would make them repeat the past. Even as the distance between them closes, he tries to keep his cool. He fails. Miserably. He plants his soft lips on top of hers and kisses her.

Softly. Innocently.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He says as he disconnects their lips. ***

The next morning Y/N and Harry wake up tangled in each other's limbs. And as if she doesn't remember what happened last night, Y/N freaks out. She throws a handful of curses around and rushes into the bathroom to freshen up.

“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?” She shouts at Harry through the door.

“Well, for starters it's my bed. You joined me in my bed.” He replies. She can basically hear him smirk. Fucker.

“Whatever.” She says. She opens the bathroom door and comes out with her toothbrush hanging from her mouth. “I'm mad at you.”

“Come back to bed, you're overreacting.”

“You jerk.”

“For the last time, it was your ass that came into my bed. Now, for the love of God, stop being such a bitch or do you need me to boss you around again?” His voice rings like a gentle threat. She smacks her lips together and avoids eye contact.

“No.”

“Jesus Christ, woman. I've been nothing but nice to you and you're...” He scoffs and it feels like she's back home. She can't help but grin. A small grin, but it's there. He notices and scowls at her. “Now you're laughing?”

“Harry, just...”

“Don't make me drag you back to bed so I can fuck a little sense into you because I promise you I will if that's what it takes.”

Y/N walks back into the bathroom to wash her toothbrush. “Get the fuck over yourself Styles.”

“Have it your way.” Harry growls from the bed. The tension in the air changes. He's fully aware of the fact that he basically threatened her but she loves it. Fuck, she even hopes he'll do what he said. Before she knows it, Harry's behind her, holding her in his strong grip, her back to his front.

“Ready to apologize?” He whispers, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. She closes her eyes and leans back against him, relaxing in his arms. She can feel the press of his hard cock against her lower back, and the knowledge that she turned him on sends a thrill through her body.

“I'd never.” She whispers, teasing him. She knows that Harry loves a good challenge. His hand comes around her throat, long fingers wrapping gently around her neck. She breathes a sigh and stretches her neck, looking at him from the corner of her eyes. Her body is completely surrendered to him, and a light shiver runs through her.

“I wasn't joking, Y/N.” He squeezes her neck slightly. “Do you need a reminder?”

“Of what?”

“Of how much of a good girl you can be. Or how submissive you actually are. How your pussy practically drips when someone touches you exactly the way you need.” His low voice rumbles through her.

“Fuck, Harry.” She gasps, arousal pooling between her thighs as his words send a jolt of desire through her. She can't help but arch her back, exposing her neck and pressing her ass against him even more.

His lips latch onto the exposed skin of her neck, sucking a mark into her flesh. He tightens his grip on her neck slightly, her breath coming in short gasps. Harry growls, mumbling darkly against her skin. She tries her best to stay standing, especially as her knees threaten to buckle under the touch of his hand. “Such a good girl. Undress yourself and go lie on the bed, now.”

She nods, his hand dropping from her throat as she moves toward the bed. Harry's eyes never leave her, watching as she strips down to her underwear. She settles on the bed, unsure of where to position herself. Without another word, Harry walks towards her, a dangerous glint in his eyes. She swallows hard as he grabs the neck of his shirt to pull it over his head.

“Let me make myself clear.” Harry's voice rasps. “You're going to be nice to me from now on. Especially here in Portugal. Do I make myself clear? I don't feel like wasting my time here when it could be so, so sweet.”

Y/N stares up at him, transfixed. Her lips part, her eyes wide as he slowly starts pulling down his sweat shorts. The realization of what is about to happen sinking in. Harry was on the rougher side with her the first time they fucked, but she didn't know he could be this dominant, this aggressive, and god did it turn her on.

Without another word, Harry stalks over to her and grabs her wrists, pinning them above her head. He presses his hips down against hers, his naked body flush against her almost-naked one. His lips claim hers in a rough kiss, and Y/N can't help but moan into his mouth. “You like that, don't you?”

Y/N nods, whispering a soft yes.

Harry trails his lips down her jaw, peppering open-mouthed kisses along her neck. He finds his spot below her ear and starts to suck a dark mark there. He doesn't care about the visibility of the marks as their meeting with the client isn't until Monday. Y/N's breath comes in sharp pants as she tries to stay still, her mind going fuzzy with desire. Harry lets her wrists go but the fear of punishment makes her not move them away from their position.

“Mmm.” He hums, obviously pleased with her obedience. Harry grazes his lips over the top of her chest, reaching around to unhook her bra and slide it off. Her body arches up into his, craving his touch. He continues his trail of kisses, leaving a wet path as his mouth finds one of her sensitive nipples.

He swirls his tongue around the hardening peak, kissing and biting gently. He shifts his hips slightly, sliding one of his legs between hers. He glances up at her, her eyes already closed in pleasure as he moves his hands to pinch at her other nipple.

Harry's hand trails down, fingers fiddling with the hem of her panties. Slowly he removes them, revealing her already wet cunt. Harry smiles and sits up to admire her exposed body. “Turn around.”

She immediately rolls over onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow. Without warning, Harry spanks her, causing her to yelp and lift her head from the pillow. “Fuck.” She moans, the burn of his hand on her skin spreading a wave of pleasure straight through her.

He growls, unable to tear his eyes from her perfect ass. Y/N moves her hands to grip her fingers in the soft blankets beneath her, as Harry suddenly pushes his middle finger into her dripping centre. Her hips jerk against the bed involuntarily, seeking more contact.

“You're soaking, baby.”

“Fuck, Harry, please.” She whispers, beyond turned on. He starts a torturously slow rhythm, sliding his finger in and out of her warm cunt. She buries her face back into the pillow again and braces herself for a second spank that never comes.

“It's pathetic how wet you get from basically nothing. Just let me play with your nipples and you're gone.” He grabs her ass, his thick fingers digging into the soft flesh. “But you like that, don't you?” He finishes by giving a firm smack to her asscheek, causing a whimper to escape her lips.

“I want to hear you. Lift your face, love.” Harry whispers. She lifts her head, propping her chin on the edge of the pillow. Harry raises his body up on his knees, one hand still dipping his fingers in and out of her pussy while the other hand comes around to cover her mouth.

As Y/N tries to silence her whimpers, Harry easily slips another finger inside her slick entrance. She moans louder now, the vibrations reverberating through Harry's palm and urging him to go deeper, faster. He dips his head down to lightly bite her shoulder, earning him another deep moan as his rock-hard cock presses into her buttcheek.

“Let the neighbours know how much you enjoy getting fingered. Make sure they hear just how much you love my touch.”

“Fuck, Harry. You feel so fucking good. Oh!” She cries out as Harry increases his pace, moving his free hand down to her hip, gripping her roughly. He quickly removes his fingers from her sloppy pussy and Y/N whines at the loss.

“Did I ask you to complain?” He asks as he grabs her hips with both hands and juts her upward. Her ass now up in the air with her chest still pressed into the sheets. It feels submissive, her ass being up as if she is presenting her pussy to him. Not like he needs her to, he knows exactly where her pussy is.

“N-no.” She manages to answer.

“Good.” Harry grabs his cock, already leaking pre-cum and lines himself up. Without any warning, he thrusts into her, moving his hands from her hips to her waist, thrusting in and out at an ever-increasing speed. The lewd sound of skin slapping skin echoes in their hotel room and her eyes squeeze shut, as Harry does not hold back, pounding her into the mattress.

Y/N lets out a loud groan, burying her face in the pillows again to muffle her cries. But Harry's having none of it. He collects her hair and wraps it around his left hand, firmly yanking her head upwards, forcing her to keep her head up. A gasp escapes her lips, and her hands scratch at the blankets.

“Mmm, fuck!” She whines, her eyes tearing up from the feeling. Pleasure flows through her. She doesn't think he's ever fucked her this hard, and damn is she enjoying it. He's hitting deep spots inside her cunt she didn't even know existed, and the bruises he is sure to leave later are absolutely welcome.

Harry's thrusts continue, showing absolutely no signs of slowing. His cock pounds in and out of her, eliciting a high-pitched whine from her with each thrust. He pulls on her hair harder, angling her head so he can see her face as she's struggling to keep quiet. She keeps her eyes tightly shut, trying desperately to mask her groans of pleasure.

“Tell me how much you like taking my cock.” Harry says, his voice strained. “Tell me how badly you needed this. Tell me how much you love being my little slut.”

Y/N's body heats up at his words, her toes curling, and she silently curses him for making her talk. “I-I needed- ah- this so badly.”

“Shit, baby, yes. Say it again.”

“God, Harry, I need you- s-so fucking bad. Fuck.” She writhes beneath him, trying to escape the delicious torture. His pace is unforgiving, and his force hits her in just the right spots. His thrusts jerk her whole body, the loud smacking of their sweaty bodies colliding the only sound filling the room.

“Oh God!” She moans loudly, as Harry wraps one arm around her torso and pulls her up, his hand resting dangerously low on her throat.

“You need this, huh? This little cunt needs to be filled up?”

“Ah! Fuck, Harry.” She murmurs before a broken moan falls out of her. Her right hand holds onto his wrist tightly and her head falls back against his shoulder, her jaw slack in pleasure. She can feel her orgasm building within her, as this new position allows his dick to hit her G-spot repeatedly, shooting pure euphoria through her.

“Mhm, do you feel it? Right here?” He asks, one of his hands slipping down her body and pushing down on her lower stomach. She gasps, tears pooling in her eyes at the sensations he creates. Harry's hand slips further down her body, eventually reaching her most sensitive bundle of nerves and pushing gently against it.

“Ah!” A choked cry leaves her mouth and she freezes in his arms. She tries to catch her breath but all she feels is pleasure. Before she can stop herself, her head starts rolling against his shoulders, her mouth dropping open in a silent scream.

“That's it, baby. Come for me, wet my cock.” He groans in her ear as her hips start jerking, and her loud moans fill the room. “C'mon, scream for me.”

Y/N thrashes her head, eyes squeezing shut. A harsh cry leaves her as his rhythm continues, but her movements lose the rhythm, becoming uncoordinated. White light fills her vision, and an earth-shattering climax hits her, rolling over her and stealing her breath. Her orgasm floods her veins, every nerve ending lit up in ecstasy.

“Ooh fuck. Har... Shit!” Her hoarse voice bounces off the walls, the strength quickly leaving her body. Harry's arm stays tight around her, preventing her body from falling down onto the bed.

Harry removes his fingers from her clit, and Y/N relaxes into his embrace, humming happily as she catches her breath. Harry takes the opportunity to let her fall back down onto the mattress, his hands holding her hips steady as he slowly keeps thrusting into her.

Y/N cranes her neck around, her face flushed and expression smug. Harry tightens his grip, as he forcefully pushes his dick into her once more, her head falling forward at the feeling. Before he pulls out, slapping her ass once more before he roughly pushes her onto her back.

She is positioned with her shoulders on the edge of the comfortable bed, causing her head to hang slightly. She groans, her arms reach back to grab a hold of the blankets beneath her. Just as her grip tightens, Harry grabs her knees, pulling them apart and position her feet on either side of him, spreading her thighs apart.

He lines himself up with her wet entrance and pushes back into her, the new angle causing his dick to brush her sweet spot over and over again. She throws her head back, as her breasts bounce on her chest and she lets out a loud groan. Harry raises her leg up, her calf on his shoulder, foot resting on his collar bone.

“Holy shit.” He breathes, eyes firmly locked on her chest, and how erotic she looks. Her eyes meet his in surprise. She cries out in pleasure as Harry thrusts into her deeply. “You're so fucking perfect.”

She closes her eyes again, unable to handle the intensity in Harry's face as he whispers words of praise, calling her perfect, telling her how good her pussy feels around his dick. Harry grunts and the sound mixed with her pants, curses, and moans fills the room.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” She moans as his thrusts quicken, his brows furrowed and eyes closed tightly in concentration, and then moans spill from his lips.

“I-Oh my god-fuck baby, you feel so fucking good...”

“H-Harry.” She whines, voice uneven. She closes her eyes, feeling her inner walls flutter around Harry's thick cock. Harry readjusts his grip on her hips, pulling her closer. He moves one of his legs, widening his stance to give himself better leverage. To allow his thrusts to grow faster and stronger, Y/N's quiet noises change. They turn into loud moans and choked whimpers.

“T-too- Oh, too much.”

“You can handle this.” He croons, his voice strained and heavy. She nods, and Harry quickens his pace even more, angling his dick so he constantly rubs against that one spot. “God, your tits look so fucking good with how much they move. Drives me crazy.”

Her nipples are hard, grazing her skin and sending white-hot pleasure coursing through her. Harry reaches down and cups one of her breasts, her hand coming up to join him. She moans and writhes beneath him, throwing her head back when his thumb moves over her nipple, teasing it.

She whimpers, pussy clenching around his cock, suddenly overwhelmed by Harry's assault of pleasure. As soon as Y/N realizes what's happening, she brings her hand to her clit. She slips her hand between her thighs and starts circling her clit in a continuous pattern. She moans weakly, feeling herself clench down on Harry, letting him know how much his actions were working.

“Did you ask if you could do that?” Harry grits out, his hips pounding into her relentlessly. Y/N shakes her head but refuses to stop. Her fingers never break their movement.

“You're about to come again, aren't you? Holy shit- oh my fucking... Fuck, you little slut.” He whispers harshly, but he couldn't care less about her getting herself off at this point. She would if he'd stopped her, but it was undeniable that it turned him on, even more, knowing how eager she was to be stimulated while he took what was his.

“P-please, H.”

“Mhm.” His hips stutter slightly, as his focus wavers for a split second. “Do it.”

She whimpers, as she continues rubbing. Her hand moves in time with his movements as Harry gives himself completely over to lust. He slams his hips into hers, burying himself to the hilt on every thrust. He swears loudly, breath heavy and panting. He can hear her fingers on her clit rubbing incessantly, making it harder for him to hold back.

“Jesus Christ! It's... Fuck... Baby. Let go.”

A long, high-pitched moan falls from her lips as she throws her head back, cunt clenching around Harry's throbbing cock as she rides out her second orgasm of the day. Her right hand flies away from her clit as Harry sets a quick, punishing pace. She knows he is almost there, just needs a little more.

“Harry. C'mon. Come inside me.”

“Fuck, Y/N. You know I can't.” His mind is frantic, her words bring him one step closer to tipping over the edge. “That little mouth of yours will have to do it.”

It takes her a couple of seconds to realize what he means. She slides off the bed, a pleasurable shiver running through her, straight to her core as her feet touch the cold floor. It doesn't help her overheated body at all. She slowly gets down onto her knees. Her gaze meets his and the world stops for a second as their eyes meet, the tension running high between them.

Y/N is completely in his element now, not just doing what he wants but giving herself over fully. Harry reaches down, wiping a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear before grasping the back of her head. He runs his thumb over her lips, caressing her skin before pushing her lips apart. She slowly licks her tongue over his thumb.

“Good girl.” He quickly pushes his length into her mouth, straight to the back of her throat. His eyes roll back as he struggles to control himself. Y/N gags, her eyes watering up. Harry reluctantly pulls back just far enough to let her breathe through her nose.

The taste of her essence combined with the salty taste of Harry's pre-cum fills her mouth. She eagerly hollows her cheeks as Harry pumps his hips against her, not allowing her much time to think or move. She rolls her eyes back into her head, and she loses herself to her pleasure as he chases his own climax.

“Oh fuck. I-shit...” His thrusts are growing slightly uneven and without warning, he thrusts all the way into her mouth and pushes down on the back of her head, forcing her to take his entire length. His warm cum spills into her, thick and sweet on her tongue. Y/N eagerly swallows him down, looking up at him with teary eyes.

Harry shudders at the feel of her throat against his sensitive tip. His breathing slows slightly. “Ah.” He winces, letting go of her head and sliding out of her warm mouth. Causing a string of saliva mixed with cum to connect the tip of his dick to her mouth.

She sits down on the hotel room floor on her knees, panting for breath and her head spinning as she attempts to collect herself. Harry slides his finger over her chin, collecting some of his semen which is still dripping down her chin and sliding it onto her lips. She eagerly licks her mouth clean and the sight makes his blood surge through his veins, his heart thudding away in his chest.

“Good girl.” He presses lightly against her lower lip, but his eyes remain trained on hers. Y/N's expression softens, and as Harry removes his finger from her mouth, she lets her head drop down as if she can't even stand looking at him anymore. But the slightest tinge of pink on her face betrays her.

“Looks like you actually enjoy doing what I say.”

Y/N chuckles as her mind begins to race again. Suddenly she doesn't mind one bit that she has to share this room with Harry for the next couple of days.

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#harry styles #allthelovehes #harry #styles #harry smut #fanfic #smut #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #harrystylesfanfiction #harryxreader #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry x you #harryxyou #harry x yn #harryxyn #writing #hot #coworkers #coworker!harry #colleague!harry #hotel #boss #work #ceorry #ceo!harry

[cloakedsparrow]

A 'Jason & Tim Join the Bat Family Early' fic in which Jason and Tim meet six months to a year before Jason would have met Bruce in canon.

Jason spends a lot of time at the Gotham City Library for warmth/air conditioning/safety, education and entertainment. Tim spends a lot of time there too, doing homework and reading for fun/education since he prefers it to his usually empty house. They meet when Jason helps Tim reach a book that's too high for him and ends up commenting on it. They start by just reading in the same space and talking while Jason waits with Tim at the bus stop. Eventually, they start hanging out outside the library, fist chatting on the steps and eventually getting pizza or burgers (Jason isn't to proud to accept food when Tim offers to pay) moving to the nearest park where they can talk about what they're reading.

Tim realizes that Jason is homeless but at first doesn't say anything because he doesn't want to upset or offend his new friend. When Thanksgiving Break approaches, he broaches the subject to suggest Jason come stay with him during it, since his parents won't be home. Jason trust Tim by then, and he really likes the idea of having unlimited access to a shower/bed/food/heating, so he accepts. They get along well enough, and the Drakes are gone often enough, that they decide to basically move Jason in. The maids only come a couple times a week, gardeners once a week, and the grocery delivery every other week, and none of them are allowed in Tim's room, so it's easy enough for Jason to either hide form them, be at the library when they come, or pass himself off as a friend visiting Tim.

This goes on for months before Tim decided that, as much as he loves Jason and loves having him there, the older boy deserves to have a real home with a real family. And he knows of the perfect family.

Tim may know a little more about Dick Grayson's schedule than is normal, but it works in his favor that he's able to make sure he and Jason happen to be at a museum exhibit Dick's also attending. They meet and it's nothing huge, but Tim notices the older teen glancing at him and Jason periodically. Later, the same thing happens at the aquarium. And then Little Paris. By then, Dick is basically ready to adopt Jason himself. Of course, Bruce does so instead once he tells him his plans.

(This has the added benefit of bridging the divide between Bruce and Dick at this time)

The Drakes' house is just on the other side of Bristol, which is easily the safest neighborhood in Gotham, so Tim can just ride his bike or skateboard over to hang out with Jason at Wayne Manor. Instead of the library or the Drakes' empty house, the boys start hanging out at Jason's new home.

Now, it's Jason's turn to get Tim (and his negligent parents) on his new family's radar so they'll adopt him, too.

After some training, Dick happily passes the Robin mantle to Jason, who happily shares it with Tim once the younger boy is old enough.

[Bonus: Dick checks around the Todd's old place to see if there's anything left of Jason's parents, since he knows he cherishes everything he has from his own. He gets the box of family records from their old neighbor and learns that Catherine wasn't Jason's biological mother. He and Bruce decide to quietly locate her and make sure she's safe for Jason to meet. They learn about Shelia's crimes, and arrange for her to be arrested, giving Jason the choice to visit her in prison or not. During their search, they learn about Lady Siva having a kid and decide to look into that, which leads to them bringing Cassandra home a couple years early. Jason and Tim are delighted to have a big sister.]

#fic ideas I haven't the time for #ficlet #fanfiction #dc #comics #Bat Family #AU #jason todd #tim drake #tim wayne #dick grayson #bat brothers #batpups #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #cassandra cain #batman #robin #nightwing #batgirl

[vylad243]

Radiostatic headcanons because I'm feeling a little overwhelmed

When Alastor called Vark his pet for the first time, Vox hugged him for like 2 hours straight, and Alastor was very annoyed

Alastor used to eat people in front of vegan sinners while Vox was basically trying to stop him from doing that all the time

Vox loves huskies

Alastor does not love huskies

Vox and Alastor both have nightmares, and they like to comfort each other but they swear to GOD IF SOMEONE ELSE FINDS OUT- (/lh)

Rosie liked Vox before Alastor and him went their separate ways. When Alastor and Vox reconnect she feels a little uneasy around him but she warms back up to him quickly

Vox records the little fawn noises Alastor makes when he's around Rosie. Since Alastor would destroy his technology, he only has audio

Vox tried to introduce Alastor to video games, and after the fifth try, Vox gave up and announced to the world that he would rather shove a tree up his ass than try again

Alastor very rarely makes sex jokes and it scares the shit out of Vox each time he does it

Vox has a file of just different audio clips of Alastor swearing

Alastor does not give a fuck that Vox is trans despite Vox overthinking it constantly. Alastor looks at Vox and thinks "Oh that's my dumbass" and not "HoW dArE hE iDeNtIfY aS sOmEtHiNg ThAt IsN't In HiS pAnTs"

Bets. Vox and Alastor will bet on everything and anything if they can

Alastor always tries to make Vox feel better about his insecurities, but let's be honest he ain't good at it

It works somehow

When Alastor and Vox started sitting beside each other in overlord meetings again, everyone was stressed the fuck out

Vox is the only exception to Alastor's 5ft rule, and even then, sometimes he isn't allowed to touchy

Alastor loves Vox's personal space, and loves to annoy him

Vox was very overstimulated once and he yelled at Alastor when Alastor touched him and Alastor was very confused because he had no idea Vox could react like that

Alastor is a bit more wary when he touches Vox now

Vox can make jewelry, but doesn't

Vox can also cauterize wounds but doesn't usually do it

Alastor has bitten Vox multiple times. No. Not in a kinky way. He was hungry

There is a scar on Vox's side from Alastor doing that

#hazbin hotel #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #radiostatic #vylad's random headcanons

[violetasteracademic]

On Mate Behavior: Elriel (Part Two- Scent)

Another day of an SJM Instagram jump scare with more stories and no book accouncement (though I am HAPPILY celebrating indie bookstore day with you all!)- So it's another day to be on my Elriel shit. Will we still want posts like this once the announcement is out and we are done fighting for our lives? I feel like the announcement is coming soon so I need to sneak in all my thoughts!

In my previous analysis, I highlighted a moment that would have been perfect for Azriel to display some mate-like behavior towards Gwyn, and it was sorely lacking. You can catch up on that post here!

Today I would like to discuss another area lacking in mate behavior in the BC between Azriel and Gwyn, but present for... drumroll... Elriel. And that is scent.

Bringing back Nessian's bonus chapter to start the parallels, because I do think an additional bonus lends itself to the fairest basis for comparison (also if I used book examples from ToG to CC regarding romantic parings/mates and scent I'd be here for several hundred years):

Cassian is so lost in Nesta's scent that he had to stop himself from letting his eyes roll back into his head while breathing her in. This... sounds familiar:

Azriel's eyes also nearly rolled into the back of his head because of Elain's scent.

As previously mentioned, scent plays a huge role in mates/romantic pairings. I was chatting with my friend @faeprincesswarrior when I first started thinking about the scent thing, and she remembered that Rhys could smell Feyre's scent before they even met. He would wake up with her scent in his nose. Cassian and Azriel both can hardly control themselves when they take in the scents of Nesta and Elain.

Scent plays an important role in romantic pairings, and is honestly probably one of the things SJM lays on the thickest throughout the entirety of her multiverse and she has a tendency to drop it early on, often as an initial indicator. Yes, sometimes scenting is platonic, but Gwyn and Az don't even have that on page. There is simply no mention of scent in their portion of the chapter, but it is heavy in Elain's section.

*Crescent City 3 Spoiler* Even when Ithan is done with all his side quests and spends just a few moments with Perry, he's suddenly like mmm... strawberries and cinnamon. No other indicator of mate behavior there but MANY readers only needed that little nugget to be like- something's cooking here.

Again, in addition to Azriel's lack of response to directly recalling Gwyn's assault from his POV on page- something I would have liked to see to indicate feelings could be brewing there- there is also zero mention or indication that Azriel experiences Gwyn's scent at all. Even something small, like "a shift in her scent" at his arrival, or noticing a change in her scent from her flash of memory as well (as it happened between Nesta and Cassian.)

Azriel lost his mind over Elain's scent in their bonus chapter, just as Cassian lost his mind over Nesta's scent in theirs.

Azriel makes no mention of Gwyn's scent in the BC. It's as if to him, she doesn't even have one.

I want Azriel and Elain to be together because Azriel and Elain want to be together. They experience what romantic pairings experience together, and it is delicious.

I love Gwyn, which is why I think if she is going to have a romance in the future, she deserves more than a regifted necklace and a male who is drowning in the scent of another female's kitty and doesn't even notice what Gwyn smells like. This is really what we want for her?

Hoping for a book announcement soon. Do you guys like seeing Sarah post more? I have mixed feelings. Part of me thinks it is gearing up for an announcement which is exciting. Part of me also is tired of the jump scares and wants complete silence unless it is a book announcement. Judge me if you must!

#elriel #pro elriel #elain x azriel #elriel endgame

[puppetmaster13u]

For any of your cryptid batfam AUs. We know Batman thinks criminals are superstitious and cowardly. So how superstitious should most Gothamites be? What are some of the superstitions and things they do because of that? And what random BS do the Bat kids do to actively encourage the superstitions because they think it’s funny?

Vibrates in headcanons.

Okay, so, this is less just the criminals of Gotham- a lot of goons are just trying to put food on the table after all- and more of, Gothamites in general. Like they have good reason to be superstitious.

Like everyone already knows about the Court of Owls, if nothing else then from the Rhyme they use to get children to behave. But Gotham? Is Weird with a capital W even in canon. There are literal streets that disappear and only reappear on certain days, areas where on specific days gravity just doesn't work right, several portals to hell have been opened just in Arkham alone, and there's enough curses and cults to smother any other place.

Funnily enough I am actually currently working on a story that focuses a bit more on the superstitions of Gotham lol. Like a lot of this stuff? Not shit you're going to see in the more tourist-esque spots, but those are death traps already.

Now a lot of the habits and myths of Gotham start out as a thing about Survival. It started less with things about the Bats and more about the Rogues and how to survive.

Tiny plant boxes meticulously cared for, after one noticed how plants react when Ivy is around. They line the windows of almost every home despite the smog, and some even pray through them for their Mother to not attack today.

Small scarecrow dolls, made of grass balls and cloth hang from overhangs on roofs with rope like a hangman, a charm in hopes that the one walking the streets will leave them alone. It ends with some claiming that if you rip the head from the body of cloth, the Scarecrow will come for you.

Small candles and lanterns begin to appear on the windowsills of children, their own homemade batsignals. Some say if you're very good, gifts will appear beside it, while others claim that if you're very bad, the Signal will appear and take you away.

Tiny shrines appear on rooftops over the years, meticulously carved statuettes within. It started with one for the Second Robin, and some whisper about how the Red Hood emerged from it, was reborn through their prayers and gifts. Now there are more, offerings ranging from snacks to child's drawings to figures of clay. No one dares take things from it, the last time someone tried... well, let's just say it didn't end well.

The thing is? The Bats don't even have to do much to encourage this, and don't usually even do it on purpose.

Everyone knows what happened to the ones who tried to be a vigilante. They know of the first Batgirl, humanity slowly dripped away the longer she huddled in the Bat's shadow until she was twisting around just like it. Any child who had been making their own costumes, their parents burned it that night, terrified that the Bat would take their children to be its own next. The small child, everyone knew about him, a wee little thing with a camera clutched against his chest. They all saw him run after the Bats despite the protests, saw him run towards the Bat as bodies crumbled before it. They saw him grab its arm with such tiny hands, and the Bat, grieving, stopped. They all saw the Bat whisk him away, and once more whispered to their children to never follow the Bats into the shadows. They know of the girl cloaked in amethyst cloth, who chased after them despite the warnings and pleadings of others. She disappeared, and the faceless thing of chittering laughs that raced the Robin that appeared in her stead... Everyone knows what happens to those who offer themselves to the Bats, knowingly or not.

Robin can mimic voices, their own childish giggles and clicks echoing across the stone slipping into another's words. What is merely a game to them is horrific for anyone wandering the streets in the dark of the night. Some say that it can steal your voice permanently if it so wished.

Everyone in Gotham knows that the Bats aren't human. Oh they might mimic and pretend to be as such, or even had been at some point, but they're confident they aren't. Even if they put on an act outside of Gotham, corpse-like skin gaining hints of color like blood is actually rushing through veins, everyone knows that's what it is. An act.

The Bats themselves? Well, it keeps their civilian identity safe- and the shrines have helped them get children out of bad home lives and to safety, so they're not going to just... not encourage it.

#ask answered #gotham #cryptid batfam #cryptid batfamily #cryptid batman #batman #batman au #gothamites #gotham city #headcanons #i have so many more #though some depend on the timeline & like where you live in Gotham

[the-gateway-to-madness]

Platonic dynamics I want to see more in the (tiny) Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons fandom:

Jack being like an older brother to Hiccup and sort of seeing an older version of Jamie in him and not scoffing at how nerdy he is ("holy crap you MADE this? Man show me how it works!!")

Rapunzel post-her-movie being all gung-ho and cheery, and Merida trying to get her to stop being so naïve, only for Rapunzel to calmly list all the ways she was betrayed and abused throughout her adventures (and you'd only have to go through the canon events of the movie and show to make this work, btw, girl's been through STUFF) and tells Merida she is upbeat and kind because she chooses to believe that most people are good, because so many people stuck with her through so much and so many people came back to her after betraying her. And Merida is like "well dang ok, wanna learn to shoot a bow"

Jack being calm, responsible, and protective of the others without becoming too angsty in the process- playing harmless little pranks to bring everyone's spirits up, that sort of thing

Merida being annoyed by Jack at first, but it's because she misses her brothers, not because she categorically dislikes the pranks. She tells Jack this and he asks her to join him doing pranks. She has much more fun after this.

Rapunzel is good at many things, but not so much inventing, as we see in TTS; her trying to assist Hiccup and him being good-natured about it but entirely accidentally outclassing her

Jack very deliberately keeping his past and loneliness to himself, and the others figuring out something's off because they never catch him sleeping, he's pensive when he's not interacting with them, he's got such wide and extensive experience, and he starts admitting bits and pieces like "I'm older than I look" etc etc

Jack never openly getting angry with the kids because they're kids and he's a Guardian, so instead when one of them is upset or trying to pick a fight with him, his staff will glow brighter or it'll get cloudier or windier or snowier- his magic responds, but Jack refuses to, making his calm all the more scary.

Jack being the first to realize Rapunzel has been through Stuff and sitting down with her when the other two are asleep "what happened to you?" entirely gently and patiently because HE'S A GOOD BIG BROTHER DANGIT I WANT THIS SIDE OF HIM TO SHOW MORE-

Hiccup worrying/getting upset/doing that I Have To Stand Alone thing and Rapunzel approaching him like "you're not the only one who grew up alone, you know. It's okay to rely on us, we won't let you down"

Hiccup doing the I Have To Stand Alone thing in general cause I don't see that a lot in crossovers or at least the arts

The others finding Jack in weird places because super-balance go brr

Jack being reluctant to touch any of the kids for any reason because he doesn't want to see the way they treat him change once they realize how cold and inhuman he really is

Merida recognizing Jack immediately as the only other obviously competent fighter by the way he moves (she was raised around all manner of warriors and guards, after all) and immediately setting about allying herself with him because Heaven knows they all need as much protection as they can get

Merida helping Hiccup to have a moment like he has in the HTTYD books where he realizes he's actually a really amazing swordfighter when he actually uses his dominant hand

Hiccup and Rapunzel asking Merida and Jack what siblings are like

Jack just treating them all like his little siblings

Jack and Merida gathering ingredients together and, depending on the region, Jack teaching Merida the safe local vegetation and herbs because he's been everywhere. Also, Jack teaching the others how to cook with local ingredients

Jack knowing a lot about herbal medicine and helping and teaching the others

After much internal deliberation, Jack choosing Hiccup to hold his staff while he takes care of two-handed tasks

Jack knowing how to style hair because of Mary, and he and Merida helping Rapunzel tame her hair

#rise of the guardians #rotg #jack frost #rotg jack frost #tangled #tangled rapunzel #tangled the series #brave #pixar brave #brave merida #how to train your dragon #hiccup horrendous haddock iii

[overtaken-stream]

What's your opinion on Katakuri being a dad ^-^, ik he doesnt pull out

Father!Katakuri headcanons

This is all my brain can come up with. It's a bit short, and I'm not satisfied with this, I feel like I could have added more, thus this has been collecting dust in my drafts. I hope you like it anon.

Warnings: End of Wano spoilers, this is meant for F!Reader.

I imagine he had children after Big Mom passed. Or a few years before she died, and of course, the marriage was arranged once Big Mom realized that she might just be left without any offspring from her third child.

And as much as I'd like to get lost in Father Katakuri, I can not ignore the warning signs this road presents.

The man doesn't see his children often enough. He always wanted to spend time with his family, but in this job, that isn't possible. Big Mom often holds his family over his head, making empty promises about him having a week off to help take care of the children, only to call him back before the sun rises on the fourth day. He had the courage to ask her for more time at the beginning, or to not disturb him during that single week where he spends time in metaphorical paradise with kids whom he loves and his partner whom he tries to shower with affection. He asked that of her once and when Big Mom does not deliver, Katakuri learns to cope with the dissatisfaction, it's a song he has heard of all his life, he knows every word and note that plays, he wants nothing more than to stop listening so that his kids don't step away from him again. It's impossible, and he comes to terms that he won't have that fatherly privilege. He feels like a stranger around the kids. No amount of comfort will be able to hide the truth.

It isn't the first time Big Mom pushed away a father from his biological children.

Although his time with his kids is short, it's always full of adorable moments, Katakuri is trying very hard to be a father even with his mother standing in his way.

I see Katakuri as a father of 3. Two girls and one boy, who is the youngest.

The man loves sweets, donuts, chocolate bars, cinnamon buns, and all, so he will be DEVASTATED if one of his kids isn't a big fan of sweets. He'll try to make them change their mind, maybe persuading them to eat a different kind of dessert, but once it becomes clear that they aren't into it, he accepts the fact with great pain, since he cannot share the simple pleasure of eating sugar with his child.

Katakuri often can't get his emotions across to others, including his siblings, but with his children, he tries, he really tries. This can be seen in spending quick yet platonically intimate moments with them alone and making small talk that he isn't a big fan of.

He also hopes that when the children grow up, there won't be any distance between them, it's basically a death sentence for him.

The moment Big Mom dies, Katakuri is finally able to keep his promise to his family and breathe with no one holding his leash.

I also think of him as a laid-back father who's strict when needed. His behavior is the result of countless years he spent mulling over his future family and what type of parent he would be. So this led to him walking on metaphorical eggshels that he imagined every time he got close to his children. Which they definitely took for granted.

Katakuri is very careful with his children because of it, I'd say that he is so scared that the kids would build a wall and be mad at him for not spending enough time with them that the man unconsciously started constructing the said wall.

#op katakuri #katakuri headcanons #katakuri x reader #katakuri one piece #one piece #anime #.my headcanon. #one piece x reader #one piece spoilers #charlotte katakuri #katakuri #katakuri x wife reader #op big mom #big mom pirates

[krowlovesinazuma]

Alright I ask for headcanons yet again Except this time for once I'm not insane How would Chiori react to the reader preferring their own clothes over Teyvat's? (Judging from the overall complexity of Genshin Impact's outfits, I can deduce that our modern-day clothing probably feels a lot more comfy)

Read this prologue for context!

Scenario: Reaction to Reader's casual dress style

Characters: Chiori

For starters, Chiori is an incredibly forward person on purpose, no matter who she's dealing with, no matter how powerful or all mighty they might be, and even though you may be special in a different way, it's no difference to her.

When she sees your clothes for the first time, her mind takes a moment to properly process it. She hadn't actually imagined what you looked like before, but an otherworldly fashion style wasn't in her mind! She'll definitely rope you into checking out your outfit sooner than later.

With this check though, she's quick to realize that your outfit, made of a simple t-shirt and jacket, is made with comfortability and casual vibes in mind. Just to make sure, she'll ask plenty of questions! Mostly out of curiosity.

As soon as she confirms this theory, she'll get started on measuring you up, and making a new outfit of her own! She understands now that you prefer comfortability over style, but that doesn't mean she'll let you walk away without something of hers on.

She'll probably make a few prototype sets to understand what you find comfortable in clothes, as she was very much specialized in fancier, high status clothing making! It's a challenge she very much welcomes, no matter how much you may protest her attempts.

In the end though, she is primarily doing this for you, to help you feel more at home in this weird place. She knows the effects that clothing can have not only in onlookers, but one's sense of self, and she's here to help out with that.

Once you sound satisfied, and select which of her prototypes you liked best, she'll make a set only for you, making sure to stop progress on her other orders until this one is finished. It'll be a secret endeavor, as she knows the value in keeping your name hidden.

That'll be far from it, however. Don't be surprised if you get gifts from her every now and then with more sets of comfortable, yet fashionable clothing! Making sure to put in an Inazuman flare for you to fit in best, every piece was original and unique.

Whenever you feel the urge to thank her, she simply cuts it short and continues on. In fact, since this is her way of thanking you, she can't help but take it as something endearing, how you failed to see how much you've already done for her.

She hasn't forgotten the kindness and happiness that you showed her when you still controlled the game world from outside, and this is just her returning a due favor. You definitely notice the difference when interacting with the others, as they feel more at ease with your more familiar clothes. Perhaps she was right about your previous clothes being a problem...

"How would you say that set is compared to the last? Yes, these are important questions. This has been quite the enjoyable riddle, but I can only improve with feedback, and you're my only target audience. Don't worry about rushing it, just think deeply and answer me in detail, for the sake of a better set next time."

#genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #inazuma aficionado sagau #chiori x reader #sagau chiori #sagau chiori x reader

[fishareglorious]

In the wake of the new pizza hut collab and that one specific emote of schneider threateningly looming behind pizza hut regulus with a gun, I got possessed and created an au where ezra, matilda and regulus work with each other in the same branch.

May or may not have gotten carried away with it. AU below.

matilda is the long suffering branch manager that doesn't even want to work there. this poor french girl is really going through it (customer service)

alas she stays because of a certain redheaded customer. sonetto visits sometimes to check on regulus and that the store is relatively close to where she lives.

matilda constantly five seconds away from firing everyone and handing out her resignation but then sonetto walks inside and suddenly everything is good (sotheby just accidentally created ketamine in the back)

she hates her job because all the people that visit here are fucking lunatics.

ezra is the least problematic of the employees and he sometimes supplies the mushrooms because of his mycology hobby, but one time he accidentally switched up the button mushrooms with similar-looking hallucinogenic ones and matilda put a stop into it because a customer got high (desert flannel)

kanjira is their one and only delivery driver and while she drives matilda up the wall by always stealing from the cash register, she'd terrifyingly efficient and fast with her deliveries (at the expense of being a menace in the highway)

regulus works as an all-rounder but sometimes takes kanjira's place whenever she's not around. she always gets a traffic ticket. she and kanjira are in a competition on who can amass the most

apple is here and is the only other voice of reason working in this place. matilda respects him because he's the only one that can rein in regulus

The one story that started this whole AU. sorry schneider's dead in this universe

one day vertin comes around to catch up with regulus. regulus was on the process of serving pineapple pizza when suddenly someone appears behind her to chop her in the neck and curses her out in the most horrific ear-bleeding italian. vertin catches a glimpse of regulus' attacker, then crumples into the floor in shock because its her dead mafia girlfriend.

matilda comes to the scene only to see regulus passed out and vertin silently weeping on the floor.

someone still has to serve the damn pizza. fucks sake.

after the pineapple pizza incident there's now a ghost haunting the store that really really has an agenda against pineapple pizza. at this point matilda is very much inclined to blackout the hawaiian in the menu just to placate the damn ghost.

A comprehensive list of all the weirdos that come in here:

there's an absolutely pleasant and nice lady that sometimes eats here but the thing is she has this thing where she puts yellow bug things in her pizza as some kind of condiment and its so damn weird because those things are still ALIVE. but she gets a pass because she's done no trouble and is nice to everyone

one time the store had a break in and for some reason all the greens in the inventory were eaten. everyone checks the security cameras. it was. it was a fucking deer.

(yes, jessica is an actual deer here.)

constantine came here once only to pull the "i demand to speak to your manager" thing

pickles at one point ordered something here by himself. in the words of regulus: what the dawg doin?

ezra's collegemates (the laplace crew) sometimes visit and its a hit or miss depending on who is it

the last time x came here the stove got legs and sentience then it left pizza hut and never came back. some say it became a famous track and field runner

medicine pocket was banned like. years ago even before matilda started working here. does it stop her? no. he caught wind of sotheby's ketamine thing and tried to recruit her at one point. matilda chased them off with a spray bottle.

mesmer jr is the least chaos-inducing person of the group but at the same time because of the childhood friends that have baggage with matilda the tension between then is. frankly you could cut through it with a knife

one time she, vertin, and matilda were in the same proximity and regulus passed by and started asphyxiating

sometimes their research advisor enigma gets dragged here because someone has to feed him something other than his twentieth cup of black coffee. matilda has beef with him for some reason.

the only people matilda remotely respects that has entered this pizza hut is shamane and kaalaa baunna

but at the same time she has witnessed kaalaa stumble here at an insanely late/early hour with three giant cups of coffee then proceeded to chug all of it down then order something. she is visibly shaking from the caffiene. matilda is scared.

matilda called shamane 'dad' once and after that she has sworn to never show her face to him again

pavia exists here but keeps a wide berth of pizza hut because it contains the insult to italian cuisine

one time a foreign singer (isolde) came here to have lunch with her wife then got possessed by schneider and started angrily lambasting and threatening to haunt everyone from the grave if they've ever dared to eat pineapple pizza. she later passed out then woke up all normal again

lilya is also on the pizza hut blacklist because she crashed her motorcycle into the windows trying to pick vertin up

broke as hell researcher windsong stumbles into pizza hut with the biggest smile on her face as if she won the lottery (she did. it was the amount of the cheapest thing in the menu) then proceeds to hork down her food like she's starving (she probably was.) fun fact this is inspired by her voiceline that is basically the same story

bear with me on my vilasong propaganda for a sec.

local schoolteacher vila comes into the store because her student wandered off and is now talking windsong's ear off, and then the two have this weird but sweet meetcute that's almost the same as canon

windosng tells her "oh god hey i swear im not a child abductor" then vila just laughs and fucking sniffs her and says "yeah i know you don't smell threatening at all."

they are both so strange. next time they come together hand in hand.

matilda is malding can't she have a nice meetcute like that with sonetto (minus the whole. child abduction statement. and the sniffing thing. actually she just wants a normal nice meetcute)

37 came there with the aperion gang and all she did was calculate the precise circumference of the pizza and then tell the matilda it was an imperfect circle. matilda then says 'do i look like i give two shits about whether or not this is a perfect circle. fuck you want me to do' but in customer service language

would arcana even step inside a pizza hut.

a knight sometimes comes here and he and apple are the investments in pizza hut's old men yaoi stocks.

hofmann and marcus came in once and marcus was the one trying to order but the poor thing kept stuttering so badly that hofmann heaved out the most world-weary sigh and ordered for both of them

besmir came in there once while vertin was there and vertin shot up from her seat and went 'MOTHER???!?!??!?!?!!!!!!!!" and thus came the most awkward family reunion that happened. (regulus screamed out "SO YOU HAVE A MOTHER" while the two were watching each other awkwardly not knowing what to do)

#reverse 1999 #certified storm moments #im not tagging anyone there is so many people here #thanks to l3xdrigo for letting me drop this insanity yesterday on their messages #there is no canon info or really anything about vertin's mom but im just gonna make it that she's besmir here

[smartwatermagic]

I kinda wanna know about the shared trauma Annabeth and Alabaster both have from Luke and how they deal with it? How does Percy deal with them going completely insane just thinking about it? Does Annabeth ever realize she was used by Luke too (I feel like in a way she was)? I just kind of wanted you to explore this a bit more.

Ohohohoho -> you can hear me wringing my hands and cackling if you squint lol. This is going to get long so buckle up folks, I am breaking out the "•" format again

(CW:suicide mention, it's about Luke's death)

It's very important to start that the love was there. Luke loved them, they were his little siblings. It didn't change anything. It didn't stop the hurt. Perhaps it made it worse. But it's very important that the love was there.

Percabeth didn't talk about Luke after Manhattan, not really. That off-hand comment about his flying shoes in Cotg was the first time either of them mentioned him out-loud.

It's Alabaster coming into their life that opened up that baggage along with several more they were happy to ignore until it eventually burst.

I think it would be good for both of them when they come to the realisation that Luke wasn't evil and he wasn't a can-do-no-wrong-hero either. (He is still the hero of the prophecy of course but yeah, you all get it)

He was just a traumatised kid who grew into a traumatised young adult and caused the deaths and traumas of dozens of other kids whether he wanted to or not.

Just Annabeth realising she was the same age as when Luke took her in when she took the sky from him. Just Annabeth having a talk with Thalia, learning about Halycon Green, and how Luke changed after that, and how he again changed after that visit to May and the confrontation with Hermes. How he seemed to intentionally provoke and go after monsters. Just Annabeth mourning the loss of her dagger and her family. Luke has been dead from the start. Thalia will never be the cool 12 year old that took her under her wing again. Annabeth will out-age and Thalia will out-live both of them.

Just Alabaster realising hey, maybe Luke wasn't this almost god-like being he idolised. That maybe Luke himself didn't believe in half the things he promised. That maybe it shouldn't have been his, a 14 year old's, job to coax out a drunk Luke from the corner of Othrys he backed himself to. That maybe he wasn't wrong to think that he was used as an emotional replacement for Annabeth.

If Alabaster spared a drachma for every time Luke called him Annabeth— well no matter. He was dead now. (He would do anything to hear Luke's voice again, even if that was by being called Annabeth.)

But Luke didn't only hurt them, did he? Like I said he was their big brother. Just the memories of Annabeth staying up full night with Luke, him shielding her from the cold and the harpies as they sat on Thalia's branches. Just Luke protecting Alabaster from bullies who thought picking on the weird scrawny minor god kid no. 1263 would be fun. Luke who saw a little seven year old and took her in, promised family and tried to protect her to his best. Luke who killed himself for her. Luke who tried to maintain the familiy bonds he had with these children that followed him to the Titan army. Luke who tried to keep Alabaster away from Kronos as much as possible, and yet still promoted him to his second in command anyways.

Does that make up for the hurt? Does it matter he loved them if he intentionally or not got them in the middle of the crossfire? That's for Annabaster to decide.

They do miss him though. Once the gates open they can't stop the incoming emotional flood. Sometimes they curse him out, sometimes they cry after him, sometimes they sit in silence of their overwhelming feelings. Sometimes... well, Percy doesn't know, but it's better than Luke being a constant topic of their relationship arguments he guesses.

And it's the way Alabaster still talks like he's trying to imitate Luke: half successful silver tongue, laced with magic and the passion Luke used to have at the very start of the war. It's the way Annabeth paces around like Luke did when he was stressed, all lost in thoughts at picking at her elbows. It's the way all three of them are bone tired, and world weary and if they look at the mirror they just see Luke Luke Luke—

Some nights, when none of them can sleep, under the soft light of the moon and a cozy blanket, with hot drinks in their hands and kisses shared they talk about just how easy it would be to stage Olympus's downfall, how fast, how it would hit them before they can even suspect a thing... All hypothetical certainly, just whispers between lovers.

And Percy. He doesn't even have half the memories his partners have with Luke. But three of what he has stick out the most: Luke teaching him sword-fighting, him siccing a scorpion on little 12 year old Percy with no hesitation and him making him promise to not let things happen this way again as he bled out to death in his lap.

Olympians may have not went through their promise. Percy sure does intend to keep his own one though, gods be damned.

He'll just settle for being there for his partners for however long they grieve, though.

#this is not an anti luke post. i love him. psa end. #pjo #alabaster torrington #annabeth chase #percy jackson #luke castellan #thalia grace #percalabeth #annabaster #percabeth #smartwatermagic #pjo headcanon