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faerygrant · 1 year ago

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so much wine - carmen berzatto x reader

summary: Carmen wants to prove to you that your relationship means a lot to him, what better way to do so than introducing you to his mother over dinner.

warnings: angst, swearing, minor injury, crazy Donna Berzatto appearance

Christmas time in Chicago was indeed the most wonderful time of year, in your opinion of-course. Snow was falling, trees brightly decorated in twinkling fairy lights and colourful ornaments and most of all, it was a time for reuniting with family and friends.

The beginning of your relationship with Carmen was…unorthodox to say the least. He hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend in the normal way most men did, it was an awkward three months into your “arrangement” of sleeping together, him being partially moved into your brownstone and being introduced to all of his staff at the Bear when you finally posed the question. What are we?

He was stunned, you were stunned and you both stood there for a good 5 minutes in silence until he admitted he thought you were already dating, causing you to let out a loud sigh of relief. You’d told him that usually one asks the other to be their girlfriend to which he just shrugged and smiled, telling you he wanted you to be “his forever.” That satisfied you.

Now meeting his family wasn’t a big deal to you, you’d met Nat only a month into the relationship, as she was regularly at the restaurant, you’d heard about what happened to his brother but never pestered him much about it, as for the rest of his family, he never spoke much about them. He of-course called Richie cousin but you were mad very aware early on by Carmen, that they weren’t actually related in any way.

It hadn’t bothered you much until one night a few weeks ago, while out with your friends, Christmas plans were mentioned, one of them asking if you’d be spending it with yours or Carmy’s parents to which you admitted you hadn’t yet met them. Most of the girls shrugged it off but Mia, your highschool friend had taken this as a red flag.

“You’ve been with him for a year, he’s met your parents, you guys LIVE together and you haven’t met his mom?” Her eyes bulged in disbelief, leading you to down your cosmo worriedly.

“I’m sure it’s nothing and if it is, he probably has good reason. He could be protecting you, you never know” Your other friend Maisie assured, ever the voice of reason. You smiled at her words. Though you couldn’t pretend that you hadn’t began to internalise what Mia had said. You knew Carmy’s dad left when they were younger, but he never mentioned his mother, ever. Unless Sugar did and he’d always step out when they’d speak about her. The only photos you’d seen of her were when you’d visit Sugar and Pete’s and even then, they were old ones.

So yes, despite the holiday being the most wonderful time of the year, the past few days the issue of Carmen’s mom had been weighing on you heavily. You’d considered prying information out of Richie, but you knew he was too loyal to Carmen, Fak would rat you out to Richie, who once again, would alert Carmen of your questions. You knew the best thing to do was either ask your boyfriend or forget about it, unfortunately your brain wasn’t going to allow yourself to do either.

Luckily for you, Carmen had noticed how out of it you’d been acting the past days and had finally had enough. So one evening after work, the restaurant closing early due to heavy snow, Carmy had approached you, ready for answers.

“Are we good?” He asks, taking a seat beside you on the bed. His tattooed arms bulging as he crossed them, adorned in a navy sweater and grey sweats. His hair was a curly mess probably from the windy evening air and he smelt of cigarette smoke and cologne.

“Wha- why wouldn’t we be?” You place the book you were reading besides you on the table and turn to look at him, feigning innocence.

“I dunno, you’ve just been actin’ kinda’ off past couple a days” he pauses, brining your knuckles to his lips and slowly grazing them with kisses. “Thought maybe you were mad at me” his tone is questioning.

“Oh Carmy, it’s not that.” You feel horrible, leaning into him to peck at his face. “It’s just that the girls and I were discussing Christmas plans and the conversation slipped into parents and Mia pointed out the fact that you’ve never introduced me to your mom, even though you’ve met both of my parents.” Immediately you see the way he tenses up, his veins appearing and his body stiffens.

“That really what’s been botherin’ you?” He asks genuinely.

“Yeah.”

“I jus- my ma’s not all there.” He whispers quietly, you notice how difficult it is for him, so you take his big hand in yours, squeezing tightly.

“Carmen I understand, it’s just important for me. If we’re going to be married one day and start a family than I’d like to meet her. The last thing I’d do is judge her.” You assure him, hopping he’d somehow believe you.

“I dunno, we’ll see.” He whispers, failing to meet your gaze.

“Alright.”

It was two weeks later, with lots of talking, deep heart to hearts and support from Nat and Pete, Donna Berzatto was coming to dinner at your an Carmy’s place. Carmy was a nervous wreck, insisting on working on the food in the kitchen while you just relaxed and set the table.

He warned you about her and so did Nat, you thought you had an idea of what to expect, what was to come walking through that door in a few minutes but you’d underestimated Donna Berzatto, oh how you’d underestimated her.

Carmen had just placed the braised lamb dish on the table, while you popped open the bottle of red for the night when the sound of your doorbell continuously being rung alerted the both of you. That wasn’t the only sound however, shouts of “Carmen!” Sounded from the door, along with the banging of a flat palm. Ok so maybe you knew where the night was going to be headed.

Carmen sighed, rubbing your shoulder assuringly before making his way to the front door.

“My baby boy, oh you look tired and pale, why?” You heard her fussing, her voice echoing from the foyer.

“I’m fine Ma s’jus winter.” Carmen mumbles, when finally you see her walk into the dining room. Her blonde hair is curled, red lipstick, smudged eyeliner from what you can only assume was a cry session before she’d gotten here, a bottle of whiskey in hand and long bright red manicured nails.

“Mrs Berzatto, it’s nice to finally meet you.” You hold your hand out to shake hers and she simply looks you up and down before looking to Carmen.

“Would you turn the heat up in here Carmen, I’m freezing.” She exaggerates, before taking a seat at the table, completely dismissing your introduction.

“Ma, she was talkin’ to you, don’t be rude.” Carmy speaks, already becoming frustrated with his mother. She had the audacity to show drunk and disheveled, reeking of whiskey and then act rude towards his girlfriend.

“Didn’t hear her.” She shrugs, making herself at home and reaching for the bottle of wine which she grabs, pouring a generous amount into a glass and chugging.

“It’s fine baby, just turn the heat up, I’ll serve the food.” You brush his arm affectionately. You’d try to remain composed, you’d try not to let her win, after all it was your idea in the end to have her over and you weren’t going to crack easily.

Donna had somehow settled, the three of you eating in awkward silence, the only sound being the scraping of forks and knives and sips of wine, mostly on Donna’s part.

“So Mrs Berzatto, what’ve you been up to recently?” You attempt again at conversation with her.

“Not seeing my son obviously, since you’ve got him cooped up in here, you the reason he doesn’t even bother to call his mother anymore?” She drops her fork against her plate, a loud “clank” ringing throughout the room.

“Ma you know exactly why I haven’t called, stop tryna’ blame her.”

“Oh so now I’m the bad guy for missing my baby boy?” She stands dramatically from her seat, the table shaking slightly. She’s hysterical, tears beginning to stream down her face as she points an accusatory finger at you.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing, tryna use my son for his money and steal him away from me.” Her arms are moving wildly and before you know it, the glass of wine had swung off the table, the glass shattering onto the white tile. A large puddle of red, dripping below the table.

“Fuck, shit, fuck I got it” Carmen groans, but you push him to sit back down. You already felt guilty for pressuring him into inviting his mom over, he knew how it would go but you’d been so stubborn.

“It’s fine I’ve got it Carmy.” You try reaching for the pieces of glass while you hear Donna continuing her blabbering rant. You’re so distracted that you don’t even realise the blood that begins to pour from your palm.

“Fuck” you mumble, not wanting to alarm Carmen, however you’re too late.

“See what you fuckin’ made her do ma? Get the fuck out of our house now, I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt for her and you treat her like this? Not fuckin’ havin it, we’re done here!” He shouts and his mother is stunned.

“You’re really going to speak to your own mother like that?”

“Yes, and I’m going to show you to the fuckin’ door now”

“You sure you okay baby, no more pain?” Carmen asks for what feels like the hundredth time, his lips grazing your bandaged hand.

“I’m sure Carmy, thank you for cleaning me up.” He just smiles at you, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“Carmen?”

“Hmm?” It comes out muffled, the sensation tickling your neck.

“I’m sorry for pestering you, you were right about her”

“Don’t apologise, you were curious and you deserved to know and see for yourself.”

“I know but I shouldn’t have pressed you, you were just protecting me, and I love you for that.” He removes his face from your neck, kissing you tenderly and whispering a quiet “I love you too”

“Can I ask you something?” He questions later while the two of you are in bed, cuddled up under the sheets.

“Anything.” You assure.

“Does this change the way you see me?”

“Never, you’re not your mother Carmy.” And those words are assuring enough to allow him to fall asleep peacefully that night.

#carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen x reader #the bear fic #donna berzatto #reader x carmen berzatto

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anystalker707 · 7 days ago

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Catch me when I fall

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x [gender-neutral] Reader Summary: Being stuck in a small city with barely any service during the business rush of the holidays feels like hell when you're an agent of a great company. Tags: very generic, cliche, cheesy christmas plot / very very very sweet / comfort / decorating christmas cookies / watching christmas lights / ice skating / christmas activities

requested by ms rain the queen herself @bimbo-baggins17

MASTER LIST

Christmas wasn’t important. Well, actually, it was, when it came to numbers. Profits went high, people and sales everywhere, and you’d usually always be the one going on business trips for the company, going around to sign contracts or take pictures shaking hands with people to seal business deals and keep the appearances.

Business kept your mind busy during the holidays, set on what needed to get done, away from distractions. The November-January period was busy, much like June-August, so the main difference was simply the weather and decorations.

This year’s destination seemed nice—a little, cozy city that made its profits mainly during the holiday season because of tourism, and encouraging small businesses was the company’s great aim this time. The pictures of you with the mayor and other local authorities were everywhere by now for the new campaign.

Everything was going great. Maybe a little too great to be true.

“The road’s blocked?” You blinked a couple of times, taking a deep breath.

“Well, you see…” The driver cleared his throat and coughed, looking away, looking at the cars that eventually passed down the frozen streets, though there weren’t many. Not in such a small city. “The weather was too intense, so the bridge’s under maintenance. It will take a while to fix since we gotta make sure it’s safe ‘n all, y’know. Gotta have a good weather t’work.”

Something felt like it was about to snap inside you. There was going to be another important meeting in two days. “What about the other exit? Plane? Boat? Helicopter?”

The driver flinched a little more with each word. “Look, Mx., I really believe the best’s t’wait. M’bad, but safety comes first, y’know? ‘N the city’s small. No other exit.” He shrugged as he leaned back against the car, but quickly fished his phone out of his pocket with a sigh. “Look, Mx., I really gotta go. Y’got my number ‘lready. Y’gonna know when the bridge’s fixed, then y’can call me. Uh—” He paused before he answered his phone. “There’s a lil’ inn there, good prices.”

He didn’t spare another word, pressing the phone to his ear and getting in the car before he slammed the door shut, and the car sped away with a rhythmic sound of something loose, leaving you standing alone in the cold streets with your suitcase. Fuck. You had planned to stay in a hotel in the state’s capital, not… there.

You finally found the sign hanging from a large building, black letters on light brown wood saying ‘Donna’s inn’ in cursive. The wooden building seemed cozy, surrounded by dark green pine trees and deep red decorations that matched the ornaments along the light posts that decorated the street, with the touch of accumulated snow. It hadn’t snowed so much since you arrived in the city by the morning, but it was noticeable the weather had been harsh lately. Now that you think of it, the drive into the city took longer than expected, and the line of cars seemed explainable now, given the bridge’s situation.

A sigh escaped your lips. It is what it is.

The nice smell of gingerbread cookies and cherry pie greeted you the moment you stepped past the door, welcoming you with a warmth that gave your nerves a break from all the trembling—a little piece of heaven in the middle of nowhere. Small cities felt claustrophobic when you were used to big centers.

You inhaled to call for someone when an old lady showed up behind the counter in a red dress and a dark green apron with a nice print of white polka dots around the edges, which matched her mitten. “Oh, hello, dear, good afternoon! What can I do for you?” She adjusted her glasses with her free hand.

“Oh, hi,” you said with a nod, observing the flour fingerprints on her lenses for a moment. “I’d like a room. Uh, until the bridge’s fixed. However long that takes…” You sighed.

A crease showed up between her brows, and the lady sighed. “Everyone knew that was going to happen. I—” A clanking sound came from the kitchen, along with a patterned beeping. “Give me a moment, dear, I’ll fetch your keys. Make yourself comfortable, huh?” She smiled warmly before walking through the door, which you presumed to lead to the kitchen, leaving you alone in the reception.

The room was cozy and warm, with a fire, an armchair, and a couch. Christmas decorations hung everywhere, a nice jar with some flowers sat on the side table, and the carpet seemed to be picked out for the holiday season as well. Red, white, and green were practically everywhere, aside from when they gave place to the golden wallpaper. Whoever took care of the place did it well.

You left your suitcase near the counter to step closer to the window, observing the darkening sky, the snow accumulating on top of trees and houses—

“Fuck!” Your heart almost jumped out of your chest when a figure emerged outside, making you take a step back, but damn, it was just a man. He had a few layers of sweaters and a hood on as his gloved fingers tried to untangle a line of Christmas lights. The dumbass— Fuck, he didn’t even notice you standing there, almost having a heart attack as you held your chest and gripped the window sill with your free hand, trying to catch your breath.

Blue eyes glanced at you once, then twice, before they widened in realization. “Did I scare you?” He mouthed, letting out an awkward chuckle when you nodded. “Sorry.”

The man leaned forward to look at the counter through the window before he let the Christmas lights down, and the next thing you knew was that he was walking through the front door, exhaling as he brushed the snow off his shoulders and took the hood off, tucking it somewhere behind the counter along with his gloves.

Now that you took a better look at him… Fuck, if he had a sharp suit on, you’d easily mistake him for one of the great businessmen you didn’t even dare to look at directly. Tall, handsome, and intimidating even in his gentleness.

“So…” He cleared his throat, grabbing a book from behind the counter. “A room?”

You blinked a couple of times and looked past him, but the door to the kitchen was still closed. “You work here?”

“Maintenance guy. A little bit of everything, really. I fill in when Mrs. Lee is busy in the kitchen,” he said with a shrug as he grabbed a pen. “So?”

Reality dawned once more, making you sigh for the thousandth time of the day, rubbing your temple. “A room. Until the bridge’s fixed.”

He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, eyes raking over you swiftly. “Oh, shucks, big city kid.” Something in it sounded like mockery, but you left it at that, only watching him grab a key that hung on the wall and check the number on the tag before writing something in the notebook. “Uuh, sign your name here, also write down your number,” he said as he turned the notebook towards you, handing you the pen. “Room number twenty-five. Very Christmas-y.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, shaking your head to yourself. As if it had to do with anything. Irrelevant. After checking your information a last time, you handed the pen back. “Is there any fee?”

“Nope,” he said. “As long as you don’t run away during the night.” A chuckle escaped his lips, but you didn’t share the humor, and he didn’t mind it, simply taking the notebook back and nodding to himself. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.” He walked around the counter in long strides and reached for your suitcase, not caring that you were already holding the handle. “Leave it with me, sweetheart. You seem tired.”

His gaze held yours for a longer moment, blue eyes warm. His hand covered yours to squeeze it gently. The touch was so warm and caring, and fuck, did he call you sweetheart? That— Damn, you were supposed to—

“Sweetheart?” He called from the hall, and you cursed yourself while rushing after him. He stopped in front of a door, the frame lined with red and white decorations that made you think of candy cane and holiday profits off decorations. Your suitcase was by his feet as he unlocked the door. He was so annoying, suddenly. Something about the way he stood, spoke, talked to you…

“Do you have a name, or are you just the maintenance guy?”

Maybe the bitterness was easy to notice. He raised his eyebrows lightly as he looked at you and handed the keys over. “It’s Hayden.” He smiled softly. “Uh, dinner’s from seven-thirty until nine. Self-service, with pretty much all kinds of options. No extra fees charged. Breakfast is from seven to nine, and lunch is from eleven to one,” he said before he paused, rubbing his chin lightly. “Just a tip, but since you’re staying until the bridge’s new again, then maybe you should check the city lights at some point. If you need me, ‘m just down the hall, sweetheart.” Hayden winked before walking down the hall, probably going back to fixing the Christmas lights or anything.

Damn. He looked so… Ugh, you weren’t supposed to pay attention to those things. Reality barged in again within seconds, preventing you from just stupidly standing there while looking at where Hayden had disappeared.

The mess hall was quite cozy, making it feel like a big family was eating together despite the different tables. A sweet smell of something being prepared for later came from the kitchen when you walked past the door, catching a glimpse of the old lady—Mrs. Lee—with another younger woman with aprons and bowls. And yeah, they did a great job. Hayden wasn’t lying when he said there were a lot of options.

Quite a few other guests had lunch at the inn, enough to fill the mess hall with quiet chatter and the clinking of ceramic against ceramic, but still, not enough people to fill out all the tables, leaving a four-seat one free for you.

Your phone rested beside your plate, ever loading, unresponsive with the bad signal that’d been pestering you ever since you woke up. Those dark clouds in the sky didn’t seem promising at all, though.

“Oh, look at who’s here!” The sudden voice made you look up to see Hayden approaching with a plate of food to take a seat across from you. “Didn’t see you during breakfast.” He raised an eyebrow, picking up the cutlery.

You raised your eyebrows, tilting your head. “I had gone to check if the bridge was fixed, or if I could find another way to leave,” you exhaled, pushing your food around the plate a little before finally taking another bite.

Hayden hummed as he nodded slowly. “Not successful, I presume.” He only smiled at the glare—that damn smile. “Why the rush? Going back home to see family for Christmas?”

“No!” You scoffed. As if you’d go back home right at that time of the year when business is so agitated. “I have an important meeting in two days. It’s important for the company, and I can barely get enough signal to let anyone know that I’m stuck here, though, hopefully, the bridge’s news will reach them.”

A crease showed up between Hayden’s eyebrows as he looked at you, swallowing before he could speak up. “What could be that important that you couldn’t enjoy Christmas with your family?” He paused and cleared his throat. “Sorry, that sounded too intrusive. I mean—” he paused. “What could be so important that you would rather work than enjoy Christmas?”

After a moment of staring at Hayden—at that stupidly handsome face—, you took a deep breath. “How else is the market supposed to keep running if people like me weren’t active during the Holidays? I mean, things can’t just stop completely.”

Hayden raised his eyebrows as he hummed slowly, that attitude from the first day coming back already. How entertaining could it be to mock you? Honestly… “Not so lucky, it seems.” And you sighed, about to say something when he looked at you. “However, you’re actually lucky to be here to see the city’s Christmas festivities.”

You shot him the same mocking look. “How productive.”

A hint of exasperation crossed his face before Hayden shrugged. “Better than just sitting there, since you can’t work or anything anyway.” And a small, fake apologetic smile crossed his face because he knew exactly how much of a low blow his words were, then proceeded to go back to eating as if nothing had happened. He even had the audacity to look at you with an inquiring gaze, blinking a couple of times as he still smiled, munching on his food, and you had to hold yourself back from wiping that look off his face. Whatever it took…

Most of the guests left after lunch to explore the city or anything else related to Christmas, but there was barely anything you could do when the signal was so bad and the bridge wasn’t fixed yet. After being trapped in your room for long enough, you decided to lounge a little in the reception, given the warmth of the fireplace and the snacks in the glass jars, but you found yourself standing by the window and watching sparse snow fall. Being trapped in that city made you think of all the reports you could be writing, all the e-mails that must be flooding your inbox, the missed calls, unanswered messages…

“Oh, you’re still around, sweetheart,” the voice cut through your thoughts. Was Hayden everywhere? Though you didn’t mind seeing him, even if he wore that ugly sweater, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and an apron much like the one Mrs. Lee and her helper were using. Where did all that charm come from? “Got nothing to do?”

“No.” It sounded heavier than intended, but the frustration was real.

“Maybe you could help me with decorating some cookies?” Hayden raised his eyebrows a little. “Mrs. Lee left last minute and said I could decorate this batch, and since you’re around so melancholic like that… ‘Could be a good way to pass the time.”

Cooking was far from the reality of paperwork, meetings, and screens that filled your life, and that reality only hit you now that you imagined yourself in a kitchen, decorating cookies. Christmas cookies.

“It’ll be fun, I swear,” Hayden said before you could overthink, and maybe it worked, because he soon had an arm wrapped around your shoulders while guiding you behind the counter and into the kitchen, also decorated in a Christmas theme, wide, with enough apparel to attend the demand of three daily meals for the inn’s guests. The surface of the island’s stainless steel counter was covered in cookies. “We have gingerbread men, trees, snowflakes, and icing in different colors,” he said as he grabbed one of the aprons that hung on the wall. Dark green, polka dots details. “There we go.”

Hayden slipped the top part around your head and stood behind you to gently tie the straps around your waist, fingers brushing against you gently. “Well, aren’t you just cute?”

Cute? Out of your element and dressing something like that? But he said it in such a smooth voice and genuine appreciation. How even were you supposed to feel about that? The embarrassment and confusion must’ve been evident, given the chuckle you earned from him.

“Uh, thanks,” you muttered with uncertainty, trying to move past the situation as you washed your hands in the sink.

“Let’s start with the gingerbread men, how’s that sound?” Hayden clapped before he grabbed one of the bags with icing and pulled the closest cookie closer, glancing at you with those pretty blue eyes.

Focus. You took a deep breath before adjusting the icing in your hands, trying to find any position that made it feel more natural, or at least… less difficult to decorate those cookies and make something that didn’t look ugly. Unfortunately, measuring the pressure and coordinating things was a little too hard, making you curse under your breath when the white icing started falling off the side of the cookie.

Hayden looked at you once, twice, then hummed before rushing over. “Oh, fuck, it’s okay, sweetheart. Happens to the best of us,” he said before he moved to next to you—a little too close, but not unpleasantly. He took the cookie from the counter, wiping the extra icing off the counter with his free hand before he licked his fingers clean, his lips wrapping around his middle and ring finger…

Blue eyes met yours, and Hayden raised his eyebrows lightly. “Tastes good,” he whispered as if it were a secret before licking the white remnants off his lips and wiping his fingers on the apron. “Well, the thing is, you have to hold it like this and do not apply pressure on the bottom, okay? Not a lot, at least.” He set the ruined cookie aside before wrapping his arms around you, hands over yours ever so gently, his face next to yours, so close you could catch a faint hint of cigarettes in his breath. “Careful, sweetheart. We want pretty cookies, hm? I’m sure you can make some as pretty as you.”

And you didn’t know whether it was Hayden or you actually doing the thing because your brain could barely process anything but every point where your bodies touched, and his words still swam across your mind. Nonetheless, you still had to put some minimum effort into it so that you didn’t look like a complete fool.

“There we go. This one looks cuter, don't you think?” Hayden tilted his head before his eyes met yours. So close. “I knew I was making a good choice by asking you to help me. Well, let’s go back to work. Try not to waste anything, okay?”

Even out of your element, even if you’d laugh if someone told you yesterday that you’d be doing that today, decorating the cookies with him, it gave you some sense of home, even if you never grasped the concept properly before. It felt like a glimpse of a life you’d have if things had gone differently in the past. Living in a small city, being married, doing the simple things, it all felt so distant.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” Hayden’s voice cut through your thoughts before you nodded, finishing organizing the cookies so that the icing could dry before they were put in jars. There was a clear distinction between the ones you decorated and the ones Hayden decorated.

You nodded. “Yeah, just lost in thought,” you said softly, giving him a small smile, a forced one, for the sake of the moment. He smiled back with an understanding nod, and none of you really seemed to be truthful.

“Well,” Hayden took a deep breath as he nudged a cookie into place before placing his hand on top of yours. “I know you’re very frustrated. Being stuck in a city like this, nothing like what you’re used to, away from a lot of things, it might feel at least,” he paused, seeming to think for a word, “claustrophobic, but it doesn’t have to be totally bad.” He glanced down at your joined hands before nodding with a hum. “Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “I’m very thankful for your help. We were a great duo today.” And you couldn’t even continue your overthinking, not when he sent you that smile.

Everything was organized again, back into place or put away, aside from the cookies that waited for the icing to dry. Having the moment slipping through your fingers gave you a weird sensation in your chest, almost an ache.

“Let me help you,” Hayden said softly, and his hands grazed your back again as he untied the apron, always so caring and attentive, with some sort of tenderness that only seemed unreal until now. How real could it be, though? “Do you want to go with me to the rink someday?” He always interrupted your thoughts in the best-worst moments, as if he had a sixth sense or something. “Ice skating can be boring when you’re alone, y’know.”

“Ice skating?” You furrowed your eyebrows. Far from your usual activities. “What if something needs maintenance by then? Will you just be away, ice skating?”

“Normal humans don’t work the whole time, I’m not sure if you know that.”

You blinked slowly, glaring. How could someone be so annoying and nice all at the same time? Far from your usual conversations. “And what if there’s service before we can go? Maybe the bridge’s already fixed by then.”

Hayden scoffed. “Yeah, no. This is no New York—”

“New York isn’t—”

“—so the best you can do is really just wait patiently. You may not see how you can make it better, but making it worse won’t help either,” he said slowly, holding eye contact. Part of you wondered where all that patience came from. Surprisingly, he didn’t sound patronizing, but caring instead.

Despite how annoying it was to admit it, Hayden was right. Just staring at the ever-loading circle on your phone or laptop screen while stressing every second that went by didn’t seem so helpful, and even if the bridge did happen to get fixed and service suddenly came back, you wouldn’t be able to solve everything in a snap of fingers either. Damn it. Rationality felt like defeat, even if there wasn’t anything to lose.

A hand rested on your shoulder, thumb rubbing circles into your skin. Intentionally or not, Hayden did a good job at comforting you.

You had to use every ounce of strength to avert your eyes away from his, trying to find something interesting in observing all those colorful cookies, anything that didn’t show his reaction. “When’s the rink open?” You asked, voice strained through all those feelings.

Hayden’s approval simmered in the air before his voice replaced it. “Uh, this weekend, if I’m not wrong.”

“What?” You widened your eyes at him. “It’s Monday!”

Despite your panic, he laughed. “You overestimate some things ‘round here.”

You rubbed your forehead, observing the fire flicker in the fireplace, trying to think about anything other than checking your phone. Your brain melted like the marshmallows in the cup. “Now, what’s this again?”

Hayden sat on the armchair beside yours, ankle on his knee, hanging out with you in the inn’s lounge while Mrs. Lee cooked in the kitchen to the sound of cheerful Christmas songs on the radio. The inn wasn’t so agitated during the afternoons, the space between lunch and dinner always filled with a nice calmness, even if everything still gave you a small sense of unease. Some of your emails had been delivered through the night, but service was still too slow to let you check all the updates properly. At least someone knew you weren’t dead or something.

“Chilling.”

You feigned a smile. “Uh huh, wow.”

“Do you like the hot chocolate though?”

“Well,” you tutted, “it's not bad.” Giving in was hard, but you didn't want to be unpleasant either. After all, Hayden was just being nice so far, despite the attitude… “What's this? A streak of Christmas activities? Christmas to-do list?” You grabbed the mug from the small side table, taking a look at the exaggerated Santa Claus design. “Is everything over here Christmas-themed?”

Hayden looked around, from the ceiling to the floor, before looking down at himself, then at you. “Uh, I suppose you aren't Christmas-themed.”

“You’re so funny.” You sighed and sipped on the hot drink.

“Thank you.” Hayden tilted his head, his eyes scanning your face for a moment. His tongue darted out to lick his lips before he spoke up. “Any success contacting your company or something?”

“Actually, yes!” You replied a bit too fast, but he smiled. “It seems like my email was sent! I received a few, but they won’t load, unfortunately. At least they have time to rescue me or send someone else in my place.”

Hayden nodded slowly. “That eases part of your stress, right? Now that they know, you don’t need to keep observing your phone your whole time.” His hand found yours before you could grab the phone, warm fingers enveloping yours and giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Come on, staying here isn’t all that bad, you’re just…” He paused, shrugging. “…not used to slowing down like this,” he said each word carefully and nodded after noticing you didn’t complain, but how could you think about anything other than how nice his hand felt around yours? His thumb gently tracing your knuckles in such a nice, loving way.

“Hayden?” Mrs. Lee showed up from the door to the kitchen. “Think you can buy me some more sprinkles, deary? I need those.” She adjusted her glasses, squeezing her eyes while bringing up an empty wrapper. “The red and green ones. Silver or golden will do just fine if it’s sold out already.” She waved it a little, compelling Hayden to stand up with a soft sigh and retrieve the plastic bag, letting the cold air replace the warmth of his hand around yours. “You know they opened the Christmas expo near the glass house, hm? You should take your partner with you.”

Hayden glanced back at you, your eyes meeting for what were just seconds but felt like an eternity. His partner…? You couldn’t afford to have a partner, no matter how appealing the idea sounded. Despite the shared look, he just nodded at Mrs. Lee before he pocketed the wrapper and made a motion for you to follow as he walked to the door, seeming pleased when you stood up. Well, it was no use arguing with Mrs. Lee over something so insignificant, right?

Gentle hands helped you into your coat, delicately adjusting the lapel. “Let’s go.” Hayden waited for you to make sure you were ready before he held the door open. “She’s probably preparing donuts. You gotta try them on, even if you’re not into donuts.”

You hummed with a nod, watching your breath turn into steam in the cold air, before avoiding slipping on the frozen part of the sidewalk became your new focus.

“Easy there,” Hayden said as his hand immediately grabbed your upper arm until you were steady enough for his hand to drop to your waist. “Good, sweetheart?” His hand pressed firmly against your waist, and you couldn’t help but gravitate to his side. After all, Hayden was so warm, and his presence gave that sense of protection. Comfort. Naming it was hard.

“Yeah,” you said softly, glancing at him. He didn’t let go of you, and you didn’t push him away either.

The walk was silent, and you didn’t do much besides following Hayden around the little convenience store and accepting the warm cup of coffee he bought for you, and another for himself. A shiver ran down your spine as you two left the store, leaving behind the muffled talk with a background sound of distorted voices among the TV’s white noise and warmth, replaced by the silence brought by the snow accumulated on the streets and steam rising from the coffee cups, their warmth pleasantly penetrating your glove. Mrs. Lee’s sprinkles were safe inside the pocket of Hayden’s jacket, leaving his hands free for you and the coffee.

“Let’s take a different way back.” Hayden’s hand went from your waist to your hand to guide you into the street you would’ve otherwise walked past, and you followed with a light groan when your coffee almost spilled over. “They always decorate the square nicely. Last year, the decoration was a little… weird. The angels— They were supposed to look like angels, but were more like ghosts,” he said with a chuckle, grin widening once he noticed your smile.

“Oh? That’s…”

“I don’t think the decorator thought it through,” he said, clicking his tongue, that charming smile still across his face. Fuck, he made you feel such things. “But it’s beautiful this year.” He sipped on the coffee, finishing it before he tossed the empty cup into a trash can, and you did the same. Appreciating the decoration would be better without the coffee to worry about.

Golden and silver lights lined the trees and light posts, fading out a little until they became bright again, giving a cozy vibe to the square. Just like Mrs. Lee had said, there was, indeed, a building with big, glass windows, lined with lights as well. The Christmas tree was made out of golden LED lights with a pretty star on top, and there was a tunnel of silver lights and stars hanging in it… Everything was far from the extravagant decorations you were used to, but something about it gave you a comfort you’d never felt. It was scary, overwhelming, like it would burst out of your chest, explode, and…

“It’s beautiful,” Hayden said as he walked through the tunnel with you, his hand down your arm until his hands found yours then gently intertwined your fingers, grip firm and caring. “I’m glad it’s beautiful this year, so you don’t have a bad impression about our town,” he whispered.

Your gaze averted to him briefly, and you nodded faintly, unable to look away from the stars that hung in the tunnel of slowly twinkling lights for too long, accompanying Hayden in unhurried steps. Everything is so different, and it didn’t feel like you’d expected it to be—like you’d feared. You stopped by the end of the tunnel, afraid that magic would disappear if you stepped out of it, so you just stood there, by the end, a step away from all that daily stress, anxiety, and bullshit.

“You know, it is so—” The words escaped your grasp when your eyes averted to Hayden, and he was already looking at you. Something about his gaze made your heart skip a beat. He offered a smile, but it only helped your brain malfunction more, and the only thing you could give in return was to squeeze his hand back after his fingers tightened a little around yours. You exhaled, trying to look at anything other than Hayden, maybe at the… mistletoe.

Hayden’s eyebrows raised as he followed your gaze, eventually noticing the mistletoe, which seemed like the most important thing in the world until your eyes met again, hesitant, expectant, something like that. How could you ignore the pull? The sweet gaze that seemed to look right through you…

How it happened didn’t matter, not when Hayden’s lips pressed to yours, and only now did you notice how much you’d wanted it to happen, now that his arms wrapped around your waist and your body molded against his so perfectly, and no kiss had ever felt that good, never made your heart beat like that.

His lips were as gentle as they appeared, making you feel better than any good millionaire deal made on Christmas ever could, and it felt pathetic now to think that your Christmases had been filled with that until now. Felt stupid. Was that how everyone else saw you? As someone stupid? Because it didn’t feel very wise to have spent all that time drowning yourself in work, just work, not even enjoying all those places you’d traveled to, and fuck. No, no, that was your life. You couldn’t throw away all those years because it wasn’t stupid. A few kisses wouldn’t keep money running, people employed, and money in their accounts.

It hurt when Hayden’s lips sought after yours after you pulled away, but it was needed. You hadn’t gotten so far—dedicated so many years—just for that, but you couldn’t help letting your hands linger on his chest before finally stepping back and looking away. Falling in love was too far off the question, too much for someone like you.

Not much was left to be said.

“Oh, honey, good morning,” Mrs. Lee said as soon as she saw you by the main table to grab some breakfast, adjusting the thick glasses that made her green eyes seem a lot bigger, but in an endearing way. “Has Hayden told you?”

Just hearing his name made your heart skip a beat, making you thankful you weren’t holding your mug with hot coffee. It wasn’t like you did anything wrong. Get a fucking grip. “Uh, told me about what?”

“The bridge, honey!” She clapped her hands together. “It’s fixed!”

“Fixed?!”

“You can go home!” Mrs. Lee seemed happier than you, patting your shoulder before she rushed into the kitchen as soon as a beeping sound cut through the chatter and clinking of porcelain. Not that it was too hard to be happier than you—or anything at all more than you—given the mess of sentiments swirling inside you like… Ugh, not everything is like something else. Maybe all those feelings were starting to take up food’s space, making your appetite vanish, but you still grabbed a cookie, since Mrs. Lee could be watching. That cookie looked awfully familiar.

Focus. The bridge. You had to find that driver’s card somewhere in your things.

“Gonna pack up, sweetheart?” Hayden almost gave you a heart attack, standing there when you turned into the hallway, and you wanted to smash his face when he chuckled at your reaction.

“I mean, the bridge’s fixed.” It took you a long moment to gather your thoughts, take them away from how loving and gentle he is, and the kiss was so perfect— Get a grip. “Can’t waste time.”

Hayden took in a breath to say something, but he ended up replacing it with a sigh when you walked past him, shaking his head to himself. “Well, let me drive you to the city, then?” He followed. “I can take you there in a second, no charges.” And it was easy for him to take long strides to stand between you and the room’s door.

Seriousness swam in blue irises, like you’d never seen before, sending a shiver down your spine, and the silence it created was heavy and oppressing. Hayden made you feel weak, but not like the powerful, grumpy bosses would—no, that was like hell, but this? You actually wanted more of it, more of him. If only it didn’t mean putting so many things at stake. Damn him, for seeing right through you with those beautiful eyes and charming smile.

“What?” You asked as if your tongue was made out of lead.

Hayden gave you a look, and you didn’t know whether you wanted to throw yourself in your arms or run to the capital without even getting your bag back from the room, and that same indecision kept you rooted on the ground.

“I don’t want to force you into anything,” Hayden said softly. “But I really don’t want to lose this. You know what I’m talking about,” he continued, despite how you looked at the ceiling, thankful there wasn’t another mistletoe around, but his sigh made your heart ache. Giving up seemed easy until things started slipping through your fingers. “At least keep your promise? The rink opened today.”

Low blow. How were you supposed to resist that voice tone? Not even risky deals had your stomach doing flips like that. Damn. Work.

“I don’t…”

“Will some hours really make a difference?” Hayden moved into your sight. His gaze always carried that softness and intensity at the same time, perfectly balanced. “I mean, it’s okay if it does make a difference, but I want to make sure.” A heavy pause. “You showed up out of nowhere and made Christmas feel different for once in a lifetime. I just…” Maybe you weren’t the only one who had a lot going on. “I can’t just let this go without even trying first. I— You know what I’m saying. Or at least trying to.”

It felt like forever ago, uselessly arguing with that driver while he pointed at the inn, and you had been doing everything and going everywhere with Hayden ever since, sometimes just sitting there and watching him do something as mundane as fix the heaters. It had been such an experience. Worrying about anything other than deadlines, calls, e-mails, signatures. Nonetheless, Hayden had never looked that vulnerable during all this time; he was always strong and caring, as if he was smoothly encouraging you through what seemed to be the most difficult terrain ever—standing on thin ice as if he belonged there while you walked over pointy rocks, preferring the comfort of the wounds you already knew.

“I don’t know how to skate,” you muttered quietly. You’d dealt with so much shame for not having done such trivial tasks during these past days, so admitting it didn’t feel like punching through a wall anymore.

“I will catch you.” The promise meant more than just for skating.

Taking Hayden’s hand felt like stepping into the darkness, but his words from earlier still rang through your mind, and he was right. You didn’t want this to end in regrets, either.

The rink was crowded, with people gathered in small groups while kids ran around and Christmas songs played in the background, ones you’d grown familiar with lately. Warm Christmas lights reflected on the snow, illuminating the place, despite the moon already being high in the sky. Hayden made sure to keep an arm around you, protectively guiding you through the people. He was so caring and gentle while helping you put the skates on, chuckling warmly at the messy waddling toward the rink, but you had to pause when you finally reached the ice.

Hayden stood there so confidently, holding your hands in his. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to for you to know he would be patient and take care of you. Catch you if you fell.

You squeezed Hayden’s hands, finding the exact safety you looked for when you looked into his eyes, and you tried not to think much before you finally stepped on the ice.

“It’s okay,” Hayden reassured as he adjusted his hands around yours, slowly moving back as you moved forward. “Try to keep balance,” he said as he moved to your side, still holding one of your hands despite how one of his arms wrapped around your waist for leverage. “Don’t look down so much or else you’ll lose your balance, okay? Keep firm, sweetheart.”

With a certain notion and Hayden’s tips, you tried to glide instead of taking steps. And fuck, it wasn’t so easy, far from being as easy as people made it seem. You could end up falling on your face, breaking your nose, your teeth, being away from business for so long— Your heart skipped a beat when you lost grip on the ice, but firm hands did hold you firmly, just as promised, slowly helping you regain your balance while everything still spun around you, your chest heaving up and down.

Hayden’s face came into sight, in front of blurry lights, with concern in his eyes. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”

You nodded slowly, trying to catch your breath. You didn’t fall, nothing happened. Everything was alright. You held his hand tightly before wrapping your arms around his neck, craving his warmth, trying your best not to lose balance. “Never let me go, please,” you whispered, and he knew you meant it beyond just letting you fall on the ice.

“Of course not, sweetheart,” Hayden whispered, kissing your temple, your cheekbone, gently coaxing you to turn your face until his lips met yours again. It felt like coming home—finding home.

︶⊹︶︶·𖥸·︶︶⊹︶

#hayden christensen #x reader #x female reader #x male reader #gender neutral #sam monroe #anakin skywalker #james kelly

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unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men · 1 year ago

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Dean Winchester and You Christmas Headcanons

Just something I was thinking about a couple days ago and felt the need to post it. It’s not beta’d or anything so as always all mistakes are mine and are probably numerous.

Dividers from @saradika-graphics

• Dean Winchester remembered Christmas as a kid and it was always a fond memory, well until things went sideways and there were no more “happy” Christmases.

• He and Sammy spent most of them as kids getting nothing except talks on how to kill various monsters or Dean would have to watch his baby brother while his dad was on a hunt.

• Dean always tried to get something for Sammy to open so it felt like Christmas, but he always felt bad that his childhood was ruined.

• As an adult Dean was more focused on hunting and saving people than holidays, he still tried to get Sammy something and it was easier now since he could pick him up an obscure lore book and he was golden.

That all changed when Dean met you, and ironically it was right around the holidays

• You came into his life (also a hunter and certified badass in Dean’s book) and changed his whole idea of the holidays.

• The first holiday Dean was shocked when he and Sam came back from a hunt and the entire bunker was decorated, a tree complete with ornaments, garland anywhere and everywhere. There wasn’t a spot that didn’t have some sort of Christmas decoration.

• Dean enjoyed that you baked constantly, always making cookies, cakes and bars. Yeah he may be a pie man but he was known to steal a plate or two of cookies.

• As Christmas came closer he noticed wrapped boxes under the tree, many with his name on it but just as many for Sammy. He also counted a fair number for Castiel and Jack. Hell even Jodi had some along with Donna and Claire.

• Christmas Day came around Dean watched you make breakfast for him and Sammy with a happy almost giddy look on your face as you waited patiently for them.

•Dean allowed himself to be pulled into the library where the present pile seemed to have grown, frowning he sighed looking at you “You know sweetheart we aren’t big on Christmas” You just shrugged and said “Well you should be you deserve to celebrate like everyone else, you deserve the best”

• Dean watched you talk to Sammy and suddenly Castiel and Jack were there along with Donna, Jodi and Claire. Hell (pun not intended but it works) Crowley even showed up.

• He was even more shocked when you handed him a rather large bundle of presents, he felt ashamed that he had hardly gotten you anything and now he was regretting not doing more.

• Handing you your gift Dean felt he had to say something “I hope you like this sweetheart, uh I wasn’t sure what to get you”

• He watched you smile and open the gift, your eyes lighting up and he let out a grunt as you slammed into him hugging him tightly.

• Dean hadn’t been hugged for such a long time he had almost forgotten what it felt like, eventually he hugged you back.

• Looking at the gifts you got him he started opening them,his smile widening with each one. He was shocked you had remembered things he had told you about months ago

• Dean smiled and quickly realized that Christmas was becoming one of his favorite holidays and it was thanks to you.

#dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x plus size reader #supernatural #spn #christmas

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ladespeinada · 6 months ago

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Some thoughts on season three of The Bear, hastily written after finishing it:

Sydney Adamu. My love, my life, my heart, my soul. Her frustration just grew and grew and grew throughout the season, and underpinned with that score, made me increasingly anxious until it finally culminated in that intense panic attack she had outside of her apartment (at which point, it felt cathartic.) She’s so clearly mirroring Carmy and his relationship with his old boss, down to panicking in the same spot. I want better for her, in multiple ways, up to and including healthcare benefits.

Which leads me to: why the fuck was Nat working so close to her due date, and why did no one push back against her going to pick up boxes of napkins when she’s literally about to burst. I know it meant that we got Ice Chips out of it, and an episode focused on Nat and Donna, but it didn’t make sense to me.

“I left you alone.” “So, don’t let it happen again.” “It’s never gonna happen again.” That blue-eyed, curly-haired, Grecian-faced man lied in Sydney’s face, thinking that being physically present in the same space and working in proximity means the same thing as not leaving her alone. Sydney was more alone in this season than she was in the season two when Carmy fucked off and hung out with Claire and talked about emergency room horror stories.

The presence of the Faks was overwhelming this season, which ended up feeling like purely ornamental proof that The Bear is indeed a comedy because look at these bumbling fools! They’re funny! They’re little jesters! Any and every self-serious restaurant after a Michelin Star will surely have Two Little Guys at the helm, no matter if they have no serious training or serving skills!! It’s not as if said self-serious restaurants aren’t regularly draining money on overhead costs, of which labour is surely a part of! (Why did the Computer only suggest Marcus get cut from The Bear, and not the fucking Faks? Are they not getting paid? What the hell is the deal there? These are not serious people.)

“If you fuck with Marcus, I will murder you.” IKTR!!!!!!

Why did the screen time for all of the characters of colour get minimised, especially in comparison to last season. Why did neither Angel or Manny have any major lines that weren’t just curse words, or scenes where they were interacting with others beyond washing dishes. Why did I see the Faks more than I saw Sydney. I wanted to see more of Gary’s somm classes. I wanted to see more Ebra. I wanted to see more of Marcus’ desserts. I also wanted to see Marcus more actively hanging out with Luca. I wanted more scenes with Tina and Marcus cooking together, riffing off of each other and their experiences!

Finally, some interiority for my sweetiepie Tina Marrera! That said, we mostly got a look at her past, and a limited look at her present (my girl is experiencing some massive imposter syndrome, but we don’t get to dig into it much. Nor do we get many Tina x Ebra moments which is an affront to me personally because their relationship is my favourite). I read this Slate review of season three by Jack Hamilton after I finished watching season three, and while I don’t agree with everything, I found this articulation especially in line with my thinking re: Tina and her episode: “The incessant use of flashbacks feels like a crutch to avoid characters or the show itself actually moving forward, in any direction. Dribbling out details of a character’s past like breadcrumbs is a hackish and tiresome device: Filling in backstory shouldn’t be confused with character development.”

That said!!! The scenes with Michael, especially in Tina’s episode, are incredible. Just a few minutes and you can see the shine of Michael’s charisma, the underbelly of his pain, you miss him and want him back, you see why everyone loved him so deeply. He was so magnetic in this episode, and so terrifying in Forks, and the decline in between those episodes must’ve been so painful to watch.

This might sound silly to say because it was still very much everywhere, especially in the beginning of EP2, but Chicago felt like it was missing. Or rather, the anxieties of Chicago were missing. In seasons one and two, there’s the looming threat of Chicago gentrification (in one, The Beef is hurt by it; in two, The Bear is a part of it), plus there’s the aftereffects of COVID on Chicago’s restaurant scene. In season three, we got shots of Chicago, yes, and a lot of like, Wilco or whatever, but it didn’t feel grounded in the city the way it had in previous seasons. Not quite sure how to articulate this thought, but there you go.

The “haunting” the Faks go on and on (and on and on) about is so hamfisted, and felt so out of place for a show whose writing is usually quite taut, especially in its comedic moments. It’s just bashing you over the head with the idea that omg, it’s not just the dead that can haunt the living, the living can as well! What an idea!

I really wish Claire’s character was better written, but once again, her characterisation fell flat because she’s presented in mostly flashbacks, and through Carmy’s perspective at that, and that man apparently has difficulties understanding that she’s meant to be a person and not just a concept.

The moment in the final episode, where Syd and Carm are eating with other chefs at Ever, and one of them says “the greatest mistake is working for a bad boss, such that, what it unlocks in you is the culture that you choose to create”....hilariously unsubtle but fantastic nonetheless, because it’s followed by Carm confronting his nightmare boss (David Fields! I def did think he was a hallucination Carm was experiencing at Ever's funeral), and because it’s absolutely clear that Carm is also a fucking bad boss, and Sydney should absolutely not sign those papers. (I don’t think she should go with Adam and his new restaurant either, because the vibes are off there, too.)

Along those lines: that moment where Carmy says, I think about you too much, and Fields responds with, I don’t think about you was fantastic, but also felt unearned.

Olivia Coleman’s Chef Terry saying, Service, bitches! was tremendous.

Reiterating that I wanted to see more of Luca and Marcus together. I love them, your honour.

Selfishly, I indulged and binged this season because I was hoping it would unlock inspiration for me to keep writing my Tina fic and just fic in general but I don't think it did that, unfortch.

(Last thing: yet another season with Taylor Swift but no Fall Out Boy. We continue to suffer.)

#the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear spoilers

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cressida-jayoungr · 1 year ago

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One Dress a Day Challenge

Black and White October

The Gilded Age (s1e9, "Let the Tournament Begin") / Carrie Coon as Bertha Russell (plus Donna Murphy as Lina Astor)

Mrs. Russell's dresses are always striking and sometimes border on the avant-garde. For her daughter's debutante ball, she really pulls out the stops with this magnificent off-white gown adorned with appliqued branch motifs in black. Notice how the designs extend past the edge of the bodice and also spill onto the silver-grey gauze capelet at her shoulders.

As a bonus, we also have Donna Murphy as Mrs. Astor, who also wore black and white to the ball. Her black gown with white ornaments is more conservative than Mrs. Russell's, giving it a more strongly period look.

#the gilded age #black and white october #carrie coon #one dress a day challenge #one dress a week challenge #television costumes #tv costumes #period drama #1880s fashion #1880s style #victorian era #victorian fashion #victorian style #bertha russell #the gilded age season 1 #let the tournament begin #19th century costumes

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cephalog0d · 19 days ago

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Batkid Drabble - "Christmas Sweater"

((Day 4 for @fluff-cember, this one is for @dizaryswrites! I've mostly avoided doing holiday specific ones but the idea of Dick + terrible Christmas sweater was too good to pass up.))

“Dick! Are you ready yet?” Donna called impatiently.

“The real question is, are you ready?” Dick said through the closed door. Before she could reply, he added, “The answer is no,” and threw the door open with a flourish, arms out for her to admire his efforts.

“Oh, wow,” she said after a long pause. “Where did you even find that thing?”

The Christmas sweater was definitely a couple of sizes too small, although the shirt Dick had on under it was sufficiently festively obnoxious to match. The pockets were a pair of elaborately embroidered mitten shapes and there were little plastic ornaments attached apparently at random.

“But wait!” he said with a huge grin. He shoved one hand in his weird mitten pocket and suddenly little points of flashing, multicolor light appeared all over.

“You’re going to give someone a stroke,” Donna said.

“You’re just jealous mine is better.”

“Is it?” To be fair, Donna’s own jacket appeared to be made more of sequins than actual fabric. They certainly weren’t going to go unnoticed, either way.

“You know this isn’t actually a competition, right?” she asked as they headed out.

“Sounds like what someone who isn’t winning would say.”

((Crossposted to AO3))

#dick grayson #donna troy #double drabble #fluffcember 2024 #ceph writes things #(a theme for this event is apparently me writing characters I love but haven't actually *written* before)

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carmyberzattosjournal · 21 days ago

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S2 Entry 3: One Thousand Short Lives

Photo Credit: Pinterest

Summary: Christmas trees don’t sit well with Carmy (679 Words).

Warnings: Swearing, panic attack, vomiting (not graphic), hurt, fem reader/lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns, mentions of Syd, mentions of Richie, mentions of Donna Berzatto, mentions of Mikey Berzatto.

Notes: Thank you for reading and sharing! This is a work in CB Journals Season 2 and will be tagged with #cb journals s2.

Sideblog for commentary and social stuff: @m-z-shoroi

Prompt: Pine needles

Richie was trying to kill me, I’m sure of it.

Why the fuck else would he have secured a dwarf fucking Christmas tree to put in the dining hall? Here, I thought I was getting to the kitchen extra early to take a stab at the 3 recipes that Syd left a thousand notes on—the second of which was just a “no” without any elaboration. Very helpful—and instead, I get assaulted by a barrage of memories, wraiths from my history, from the one thousand short lives I’ve endured. All the chill of that morning (it’s frozen hell season) was annihilated by a surge of red-hot… I don’t even know, was it rage? Was it hurt? Was it frustration? Some amalgam of fiery emotions, all furled together into this tangled mess of heat. Boiling. I was boiling. I had flames pouring down my throat.

The fucking pine needles were strewn all over the fucking floor around the tree, some cursed confetti that’d fallen off the branches while it sat overnight in the miserable fucking corner where there used to be a two-top, lurking for me to find while it familiarized itself with its deathbed. Dressed to the nines in garland, sparkly tinsel, ornaments in blues, silvers, golds, reds, greens, string lights—off at the moment—adorned with a star on top, leaning precariously to one side. Carmy, fix the star. Ma, ask Mikey to do it, he’s tall enough. He never fucking does anything right, now fix the fucking star; we need to take photos.

I could almost feel the ghost of a glass bulb crunching under my heel, exploding with a pop, grinding into my shoe tread as I took a step back. Then the flash of a camera—in my mind? A car going by? How am I supposed to know—the smell of ma’s perfume, so sickly sweet, so saturated in florals and mixed with stale cigarette smoke, that they might as well have been her fucking funeral sprays, invaded my sinuses, damn near crawled down my throat and seized my stomach in a vice grip. My feet carried me on autopilot to the bathroom, where I collapsed next to the toilet, vision blurred, breaths caught in my throat, chest and stomach twisting in pain, are you motherfuckers okay? Some awful, foul beast, an eldritch abomination, swelled under my ribs, but nothing would move past my larynx—not air, not sound, not bile. Warmth trailed down my cheeks.

The light makes a buzzing sound. It’s faint, inaudible any time other than early morning or late night, drowned out by even the traffic outside. I could hear Darling’s voice in my head, almost see her crouched on the floor in front of me. Breathe, baby. Breathe. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. I hunted for the sound through the twisting of my insides and eventually found myself drawing in and blowing out shaky breaths. That’s it, pretty boy. There you go. My head still spun. Everything still hurt. Tears still welled up and spilled down my face. But I was breathing.

I fumbled my phone out of my jacket, intending to call Darling. It was early. She was probably headed out the door or was already on the road headed to the hospital. She didn’t need me to worry her, did she? No, but I needed her. I needed Darling like I needed air. I couldn’t fucking do this, not alone, not today. Especially not today. Fuck you, Richie. Fuck, I felt so fucking alone. I just wanted to hide in her sweater, inhale her scent, hear her coo and hum at me while she rubbed my back. Darling, baby, I had a bad one. I really just need to hear your voice right now. Please. Tell me it’s okay. Tell me I’m okay. Tell me you love me. Tell me another story of Cookie the dog.

I caught sight of a pine needle on the floor that I’d tracked in.

I hurled bile into the toilet bowl.

Okay. Fine.

Dish two is a no.

Tags: @carmenberzattosgf @jess248 @catharticconsolation @persymons @morgthemagpie @glitch0o0 @nox-is-thename @forgechildofheph @leminjelly @fridavacado @lumoslemon @cyarskj1899

#cb journals s2 #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy x reader #the bear

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geeky-politics-46 · 2 years ago

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Under The Mistletoe

Pairing: Sinister Stephen Strange x Reader, Donna Strange

Summary: Your first Christmas together after giving birth, & a little mistletoe reminds you how loved you really are.

Warnings: Not much, mostly fluff. Allusions to smut. Self-doubt, body image issues, & allusion to post-partum depression.

@fanartka did a lovely drawing that matches this story so well. We all seem to share ideas about Stephen & I love that we both did this unknowingly at the same time.

Each and every doorway in the Sanctum had a piece of mistletoe hanging from it. An extra piece dangling from your headboard. That had been the extent of Stephen's interest in decorating.

Ever since the first year you were together and talked him into celebrating, the mistletoe was his favorite part. Ultimately, any excuse for him to kiss on you he would have been fine with, but he could live without all the rest of the sappy hokey holiday stuff.

Well, he could have before, but that was before his Grinch heart grew far more than two sizes. Now he wanted every bit of sappy and hokey he could get. Even if it meant wearing felt reindeer antlers while you danced around him with your bouncing baby daughter on your hip.

He wanted her life to be everything his never was, even though he had created this barren world. He had done something right somewhere along the way to end up with you. He would spend the rest of his days trying to give you both and any other little ones you may be blessed with, anything and everything you could ask for.

He would be everything. A loving and devoted husband. A protective and caring father. The person he never thought he could be. Better than he ever was before. Much better than his father.

So he would happily submit to the hokey singing and dancing if it made your daughter, his daughter, smile. Her tiny little hands clapping and grabbing at the shiny baubles on the tree he had magically created. He may have added just a bit of extra sparkle and shimmer to the lights and ornaments. Just for her.

For you, he still strung the Sanctum in as much mistletoe as he could. Even after you suggested skipping it this year, since mistletoe has the potential to be poisonous to babies. He didn't listen. It was one of your first traditions together, one of his favorites, and it's not like he was hanging it where your baby could randomly find it.

The one she was most able to reach would be the most important, though, the one on the headboard of your shared bed. That one, there was no wiggle room on. Not after you promised him a special naughty present.

You hadn't had much opportunity to get back into your normal sex routine. Before your daughter, hardly a day ever passed without you and Stephen making love. If there were others in the universe you would have been sickening to watch, all over each other all the time.

After giving birth, you both knew your body needed time to heal and recover after what it had gone through. The extra plus of him being a doctor was he knew, or could find, all the rules of how to take care of you post-partum.

Now, your body was physically healed. Mentally, you were nervous. So much about your body had changed. Your body had been through the wondrous yet kind of disgusting and slightly terrifying process of giving birth. He had been there for every minute of it. Hell, he had been the one to talk you through all of it. Thank god for his medical training.

Would Stephen still be turned on by you? Would he still want you like he did before? Would he still find you sexy after seeing your body go through that? Or would he be bored or disgusted by how different you looked now?

You were no longer the shiny new toy from before. No longer the sleek sports car. You knew that all of that was crap. That you were a full and complex human being. A person, not an object like a car or toy, but as you stood looking in the mirror, your mind distorted your thoughts.

The holiday inspired lingerie you had put on was subject to your enhanced scrutiny. It was a simple silky deep green backless short nightie that you topped with a Santa hat. Did it highlight the new extra pooch on your belly? Did it show too many stretch marks? Did it make your boobs look lopsided?

You had lost track of how long you had been standing in front of the mirror. So much so that you hadn't noticed the sorcerer that had come looking for you and was watching from the doorway.

You jumped a little when you caught the set of crystal blue eyes glancing at you through the mirror. A little snort and smirk crossed his face and made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

Back when he had tried to be intimidating, when you first arrived, as much as he tried, he could never make you jump. Even though he no longer wanted to intimidate you, he found it funny that he occasionally managed it now. Only after falling head over heels and marrying you. After having a baby with you, only then could he manage to sneak up and startle you.

You rolled your eyes and reached to grab your robe to cover yourself up on reflex. Turning around to see Stephen walking towards you with a sprig of mistletoe dangling in the air above him with the help of his violet colored magic. His long, scarred fingers reaching to pull the robe from your grasp and toss it over onto the bed. Putting it out of your immediate reach.

"I think I just found my Christmas present. No point in trying to hide it now, darling."

He looked your body up and down, studying every inch of you before pulling you to him and wrapping his arms around you. Licking his lips and winking at you flirtatiously.

"Merry Christmas to me indeed. You look gorgeous, my love."

You tried to hide the slight grimace you made at his compliment, but you could see his brows furrow immediately at your reaction. He let one hand drag up your side, letting his fingertips skim your entire body, bringing his index finger to rest under your chin. Gently tilting your face up to look at him. He could see the insecurity in your eyes and it made his heart hurt.

"What's wrong, my queen? Did I say something wrong? Did I forget something?"

His other hand rhythmically rubbing up and down your back trying to soothe and comfort you. His brain cycling through everything he had said and done over the last couple of days. He couldn't stand thinking that he had done something that hurt you.

You shrugged and tried to dismiss his concern. A tight-lipped smile forming on your lips. Swallowing back your thoughts and fears.

"It's nothing, Stephen. It's just me. It's something stupid. Don't worry about it. Let's just enjoy Christmas."

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest when you leaned in to try to kiss him and he pulled back. Your fears suddenly flooded back into the pit of your stomach. The hurt immediately registered on your face. As soon as he realized that you had taken his response as rejection, he quickly addressed

"If it has you upset, sweetheart, it's not nothing. I don't care if it's stupid. I love you more than you will ever know. You are the reason I look forward to each minute of each day. I want you to tell me everything, anything. Now, what has you upset? Why are you trying to hide from me?"

He kissed your forehead and then nuzzled his face against yours lovingly. He truly hated to see you upset, and he wouldn't rest until he found a way to fix whatever was wrong.

"You know how happy I am that we have Donna now, and I love her and you so much it hurts. It scares me sometimes. Things are different now that we have a baby. My body is different now. It's not the one that you loved so much before. Things are jigglier and not as firm now. It doesn't look like anything like it did. You've seen it do things that are pretty much the exact opposite of sexy... I get scared that you won't enjoy or love me as much or get as turned on by me anymore. I don't know what I'd do without your touch, your love."

You wanted to look at the floor. You wanted to crawl into your bed and hide under the covers. You didn't want to feel Stephen's eyes on you as he was pondering what you just confessed. You tried not to think about how insane you might have just sounded. Or worse, if you made perfect sense and were right.

He silently grabbed both your hands in his and pulled you over to sit in your large shared bed. He crawled into the fluffy bedding, sitting with his back against the headboard tight near the mistletoe. Once he was settled he beckoned you over to him, pulling you to him and scooping you up into his lap. Holding you securely in his large arms and pressing a kiss to your neck once he could tell you found a comfy position.

"First of all, thank you for telling me what you've been worrying about. Thank you for trusting me. Second of all, do you really think I would have mistletoe placed all over this haunted house if I wasn't as attracted to you as I was? I know your body is different now. It's different because you grew a human in there. The only other human in this universe. You gave birth to our daughter. You, and this incredible body, gave me something I thought I would never ever have. A family to love and care for. You gave me what was impossible. You are a miracle to me. A goddess, and I will worship you for the rest of my days. I love you more every single day, and that will never change."

He tilted your head to kiss you softly over and over. Sweet and comforting kisses meant to alleviate your fears. Your body started to relax and melt into his. Letting go of the tension and fear in your body.

"And now, as for your worry about me not being turned on by you… do you really think I would magically create and hang all this mistletoe around here if I didn't want any and every excuse I could find to kiss and love on you? It seriously takes every ounce of strength in my body to keep my hands off of you all hours of the day. How seeing you holding our daughter makes me want to get you pregnant all over again. How I was waiting rather impatiently for my present this evening, and how badly I want to unwrap it. To unwrap you, and make love to you. My amazing sexy wife. Mother of my children. The love of my life and the best thing to happen to me. Ever "

Before you could respond, Stephen captured your lips with his. Using every bit of energy he could to squeeze you tight and kiss you breathless. As if his kiss was the punctuation of his statement.

When he finally separated from you he pressed his forehead to yours, the fluff from your Santa hat trapped between you, letting you catch your breath. He fully intended to not let yourself get carried away in negative thoughts. Not when it was Christmas, and not when you were genuinely the most extraordinary being he had ever met.

"Now, are you going to tell me if I'm on the naughty or nice list? I want my present and I was good and hung up the decorations like you asked, but I want very much to be naughty with you. Also, I am going to throw a Grinch sized tantrum if you aren't my present because I will always want you to be my present."

You had to giggle at him. You had always enjoyed teasing him about being a Grinch ever since your first Christmas together. You pulled the Santa hat off of your head and placed it atop Stephen's. Brushing his gray streaked thick brown hair behind his ears as you adjusted the hat. Somewhat surprised he was still patiently sitting still and letting you.

Once you were finished, you looped your hands around his neck and leaned back to get a better view of him. It was at that moment you realized he had sat down on the bed just shy of where the sprig of mistletoe was hanging from the headboard.

"Well, Stephen, it looks like we aren't quite under the mistletoe directly, but I guess it's close enough. So I guess you earned at least a kiss or two."

He snickered at your response. An eyebrow quirked at your attempt to best him. He loved that you would always tease and poke at him. You never let him win easily. Even when it was all play. You matched him wit for wit, and that was something he knew he would only grow to love more.

A glint in his eye as he pointed upward towards the ceiling of the Sanctum. Following his gesture your eyes tracked up toward the ceiling, your mouth falling open in wonder at what you saw.

Suspended and floating amongst a field of shimmering swirling bits of amethyst hued magic were countless sprigs of mistletoe. All shades of green, some with berries, some tied with red bows, and some even looked like they were topped with snowflakes. All looked like they had been created to look picture perfect.

"I was kind of hoping that would get me more than just a couple kisses. What do you think?"

"I think this may just be the perfect Christmas, and you may be the perfect man Stephen Strange."

That entire night, as Christmas Eve turned into the wee hours of Christmas Day, he made love to you. Granting your every wish and assuaging your every concern. Something he would happily spend the rest of his days doing.

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Stephen Strange Taglist: @starkiller-queen @glitterylokislut @verycollectivecreator @chatampr @maskmare931 @lovecleastrange @wheredafandomat @mkixx @evelynrosestuff @katefullerrr @littlepinknightmare @foofarny @stygianoir @moonroyalt @saturnsbabe69 @blaxdet @blackrose-92 @ironstrange1991 @rindulacre @nancy-thompsons @wolfatheartandsoul @dangerouslittlefairy @n0obmaster-69 @oliveoilthoughts @onebatch--twobatch @yourmajesty13 @blondekel77 @lil-sweater-slut @gwephen @taramaria @sinceimetyou @slashersrus @coeurgrenaty @cc13723things @just--a-magpie @supervengerslock @strangelockd @dont-feel-so-good-peter @kingsmanperfecthartwin @ghost-lantern @inlovewithloki16 @thefalconandthewinterwidowshield @itssmaugtheterrible @katherinemaximoff @veryfancydoilies @cute-angi @mochacake2016 @prix19 @alexfanficnook @anotheroddfish @mando-is-the-way @xourownsidee @baes-x @dreamingsmile @negar77rd @imaginesfreetotake @ppatricia34me @rougepetale @tis-vereon @divinearchangel @sherlux @hiddlechive @ginnykate @thatesqcrush @friendofplenti @yuugenmomo @holdmyowos @the-royal-petals @lokislov3 @captaincarmel164 @lucimorningst4r @mydearalmira @petalcranberry @singhfae @emotionsareforuglypeople @trappedinlimbo15 @veryladyqueen @icytrickster17 @kentucky-criedfricken @briefhandsstudenttoad @calamityismyspecialty @sinisterstrange616 @patbrdac @trojanaurora @azu21 @massivehahaao3tree @strangesgirl

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floofyangelkitty · 1 year ago

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I know it is probably just a coincidence that Donna chose this year to split her precious ornaments from her children’s childhood and give them to the guys. However, I kind of also think it is because she knows both guys now have people in their lives that will appreciate and take care of them.

#we will ignore that Jason’s girls already broke a few 😂

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crossstitchpatterns · 4 days ago

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#cross stitching #pattern #cross stitch pattern #CS&CC Nov/Dec 1985 #Desinged by Donna Vermillion Giampa #gingerbread #Donna’s ornaments

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ctrldoll · 10 months ago

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Tuition with Mr. O’Hara! ✎ᝰ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

GN! Reader & Miguel O'Hara

Genre: Fluff, A Lil' Bit Of Angst & Comedy (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

TW: Swearing.

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If you can't watch the reel or you don't want to (You're so reel for that! <3 Okay, okay. I'm leaving!🚪👈🏾 🚶🏾‍♀️🚶🏾‍♀️🚶🏾‍♀️)

This reel had me cracking up which just increased when I realised how much of a funny scenario this would be between Miguel and the grandchild (his child, he decreed) of the grandma who owns his favourite small corner store! (⁠个⁠_⁠个⁠)

Peace and Blessings to You, My Love! <3

“Carrots, tomatoes, onions, garlic, chillies, cu...” Miguel walked around the store, his cart rolling and stopping as he made a quick stop at the sweet section and then the snacks section, wondering if it would be worth it to indulge just this once in his delicious desire before shaking his head as he left the area. He rushed back to collect a box of cookies and maybe that box of tres leches cake as well.

The store was quiet; a few customers were scanning goods as others walked out, younger ones waving a bye and ‘See ya, Matt!’ then beating their chests with a clenched arm. The young man with a tussle of dreadlocks smiled eagerly and beat their chest as well, then waved. “See y'all at the game!”

Miguel was glad for the quiet atmosphere. His senses were more at peace and not as stimulated as they would be outside of it. The store was one of the few quiet havens he had access to in a city this active and a duty to its inhabitants so tasking.

Suddenly, the rough push of the store's door was brought to his attention, and the rushed footsteps of two into the storeroom made him stare at the direction they were headed. The elderly owner of the store, Donna, waved at him as she smiled before scowling when she turned to her grandchild. [Name], guilty, looked away from Miguel’s gaze, which questioned the situation that occurred for both to be upset.

“Grandma, I'm sorry.” He heard you plead, your voice breaking as you struggled to put together words to reassure her. “Do you not appreciate anything I do for you? I always have to defend your foolish behaviour. I’m tired of it.” She tiredly responded, stacking up small boxes to remove and arrange their goods at the store. You grabbed some boxes yourself, hearing a hum from her as she quickly glanced at you from the corner of her eye before walking out.

“Well, that's the last customer, Ms.Myres.” Matt said, twirling the closed sign at the shut door, then removing his green apron. “Thank you as always, Matt. Heading for the soccer game now?” She thanked him as he took the boxes out of her hand and knelt down to place the goods in their selected positions.

“I have thirty more minutes, Ms.Myers. It's gonna be great! The two teams have had a bit of rivalry, so the game’s going to determine who’s better! My team’s definitely winning!”

“Hmph. If he’s the one picking the winning team, they're definitely losing.” You said, smirking as you took one box from him and arranged it. Matt bit back a curse as Donna was in the room and instead glared at you. Your smirk dropped due to the stink eye your grandmother drew at you, and you turned back to your task. “At least I make the right choices, unlike some people.”

“You want to say that again?” You scoffed and turned to him with a glare. Frustration built up in you as you watched him ignore you. “Of course it's like you to say something stupid, then shut up. Prick.” You whispered the insult and stood up.

“That wasn't a very nice thing to say, [Name].” The rattle of the back door’s ornaments brought your attention to Miguel, who’s hands were littered with dust and guided himself to the sink at the corner. “Your security system’s fixed, Donna. It just needed some new wires.”

“Thank you, Miguel. You're so kind. Feel free to treat yourself to whatever.” Donna said, discreetly showing him the pieces of tres leches cake she reserved for him and a cup of tea.

“I was just helping out, Donna. No need to give me anything.” Miguel responded and uttered a ‘thank you’ before placing a piece in his mouth.

“Matt shouldn't say such things, then.” You responded, glaring at Matt as you wiped the countertop. Matt rolled his eyes as he discarded the trash from the bin. “Then maybe you should act your age. You're not a lil' kid anymore.”

“He’s so stupid.” You said, watching Matt disappear to the back of the store and rolled your eyes at the stern look Miguel had. “Your ears must be pretty good for you to have heard me.”

“They are.” He smiled and chuckled when you rolled your eyes. “What trouble did you get into today?” Miguel asked. A frown adorns itself on your face. You looked away from him and moved your eyes to your grandmother, silently pleading that she wouldn't talk about it.

“They failed a math test. What bothers me was not that they failed it, but rather their answers when I looked at the paper. Quite dumb, if you ask me.” Your grandmother sternly looked at you as you looked away, bothered.

“They weren't that bad, Grandma.” You tried to defend yourself but froze when your paper was handed over to Miguel.

You knew that your grandmother considered Miguel her son, as she bonded with him when he was a child, and she was friends with Conchata, and the woman trusted her to babysit him and his brother. Miguel also worked in the store for a bit. They were practically family at this point.

“I quit. Imma learn how to cook instead.” You cringed as you heard Miguel’s deep voice repeat, the tone suggesting that he had a lot to say about your paper as well.

You heard a chuckle and turned to Matt, who struggled not to smile, failing miserably when he saw your glare admist your embarrassment. “Guess, I'm done for the day, Ms. Myres. I'll be on my way now. See you tomorrow!” “See you tomorrow, Matt! Good luck! I hope your team wins!” “I hope so too, Ms. Myres!”

“You’re in so much trouble.” Matt mouthed at you and smirked, then left. Your hand gripped the door handle, ready to chase after him, before Miguel stopped you. “Cariño, ven aquí.” "Darling, come here.” He motioned to you, and you perked at him from the corner of your eye. His look was stern, and his eyebrows hightened at your hesitation. You loudly sighed in exasperation, then headed up to him.

“I didn't raise you to make such noises, [Name]!”

“Sorry, Grandma”. You said and held back a tut. Now, in front of the man, the cola that was displayed next to you looked a lot more interesting than you found it before.

“Look at me, Cariño.” You shyly turned your head towards him. “Did you prepare for this test?” You kept quiet, trying to not look away. “I’ve asked you a question.” He said, his heart breaking at the desperate look on your features, but stayed stern.

“N-not really. No.” You said and quickly wiped away a stray tear that fell onto your cheek. Tears threatened to increase when you saw your grandma’s sadness on her face when she looked at you, her shoulders slumped in disappointment.

“Why?” He asked, looking through each answer you gave out. “Your answers really show that you don't care about your grades. Academics, really.”

“Umm...” You took a sharp breath. The atmosphere was so tense. You knew that anything you said might stir the conversation in a terrible direction.

“I'm just not really good at processing things.” You whispered at the end, looking away as your embarrassment increased.

“Not telling anyone about your struggles and not asking for help isn't going to help you.” Miguel responded, disappointment curling his brow. “Isn’t Matt your classmate? Maybe you could have ask- Nevermind.” He sighed as he caught onto the way your face scrunched at the mention of Matt. “If you continue like this, you’ll end up struggling a lot in the future.”

“I know.” You responded, and lowered your eyes to the ground. “[Name].” “I’m sorry.” You apologised for looking away.

“If you want, I can tutor you.” Miguel said after a moment, with a soft smile on his expression. “...What?” You responded, eyes wide at his suggestion. “You would?” You asked, in disbelief.

“Would you? Don't you already have a lot on your plate?” Your grandmother asked and walked up to the both of you with a look of worry on her face.

“I'd be glad to. With your permission, of course.” “Yes! Thank you so much, Miguel!” Your grandmother hugged him while you processed the new task you had in hand.

“Thank you, Miguel.” You said after a moment, with a soft smile on your face. “I should have just admitted it.” You shook your head and chuckled when you heard him chuckle. “At least you know better now.”

“Yup.”

“Matt’s gonna love this.”

I ship Matt & [Name]! <3 ✧⁠\⁠(⁠>▽<⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠✧ They're so cute! ♡⁠(⁠>⁠ ⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠<⁠)⁠♡