#Platonic plastics x reader

[fandomhopper-shit]

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐏𝐞𝐭

Regina George x Female Reader

Summary : After the bus incident regina started to become more aware of everything around her one thing that stuck out to her was the cute girl that sat at the back of her algebra class, turns out she wasn't the only one to see that after all the girl seemed to be the Teacher's Pet

Warnings: Ooc Regina? Internal and External Homophobia, Forced Religion, Manipulation, Perverted old men,Terrible Parents, Swearing, Mentions of Forced Marriage, Protective Regina and Mild Scopophobia [Fear of Being looked at]

A/N: This is probably gonna be terrible like my other one so i will probably keep this in my drafts part 2 will come out just not eventually

Regina's Pov :

Walking back through the halls of North shore was a completely different experience for me since i wasn't the queen be anymore i started to see more of the 'background characters' as the old me would say, there were so many underrated cliques that honestly looked kinda cool and fun to hang out with for example ; The goths their make up looked so complicated but it fit them just as much as their clothes then there was the softball girls who looked like they could kick your ass but when you looked close enough they were just a bunch of goofy masc's but I would never tell any of them this to their faces I was reformed but I was still Regina George.

I walked into my Homeroom and saw a new teacher, I guess since it was a new year so there were bound to be some new people but what really caught my eye was the girl sat in the back of the classroom near the window, she was pretty. Really pretty. She wore a red oversized hoodie that was covered in white stars that were painted on there were other splatters of paint on it which just made it all the more unique then she had a plaid skirt that fell comfortably onto her thighs she wore thigh high socks with vans that once again had stars painted all over them but this time they re painted baby pink. It was adorable she looked too innocent to be going to a school like North shore.

I snapped out of my daze when the final bell rang I looked around for new seat and lit up when i saw one in front of the cutie, I quickly walked towards it before any other jock could take it. When i sat down she glanced away from the window towards me and a look of fear i think passed her face i couldn't tell because her face went blank as soon as she looked back at the window completely ignoring my presence I frowned and turned my head back around to see the new teacher looking at her with a weird glint in his eye it made me suspicious but i pushed it aside when he started speaking.

I think i could speak for everyone when I say we were surprised at the strong Southern accent the man had "Y'all bring to your books out we're gonna be looking' over some extra stuff y'all'd've see last year" He paused and let his eyes scan the entire classroom looking onto the girl behind me who refused to raise her head and meet his gaze and for some reason he smirked showing off his rancid brown smoker teeth then he went back to having a passive look, something about him made me and all the other girls and guys in class extremely uncomfortable he was watching us as if we were pieces of meat or worse Toys "Alright everyone My name is Mr Rockefeller, y'all will address me as such ye hear." He had a threatening undertone causing everyone even the football jocks to shrink into thir seats and nod.

The lesson went on and the uncomfortable energy increased especially when he was walking round the classroom 'helping' students with the work, by pure luck he didn't come over to me but he did spend half the lesson with the mystery girl behind me whispering things to her i could hear her swallowing and shuffling uncomfortably in her seat. I couldn't hear everything he was saying but i definitely caught bits and pieces that made me sick to my stomach, the bell rang and we all rushed towards the door I was about to make it out the door when I heard him call someone back "Ms (L/N) please stay behind I' do like to discuss some matters with you," He had the same weird glint in his eyes as he had at the start of the lesson it was unnerving and borderline predatory my posture stiffened i wanted to say something but my body didn't let me luckily Ms Norbury came in "Mr Rockefeller i'm sorry but Miss (L/N) must come with me to sort out the rest of classes as well as her clubs that her parents signed her up for her," She said not noticing the tense atmosphere in the room, i didn't even notice the breath that left my body.

Ms Norbury turned to me "Ah Regina just the girl i wanted to see, as a part of your new leaf you wouldn't mind if you could show miss (L/N) around the school and take her to her clubs you wouldn't mind that would you Great thank you," she rushed past me after a message popped up on her phone, leaving me stood in the entrance of the classroom while the new teacher and Student were stood in the classroom. The man looked like he was about to murder someone and the girl looked sort of relived but terrified, after a few seconds of awkward seconds she slowly walked towards me like a timid little deer avoiding my eyes and handed me a piece of paper i looked it over and realised it was practically a copy of mine, I smiled to myself "Well looks like we have very class together besides Pe but right now we have English so let's go," I gave the teacher an awkward wave as he glared at me as if i ruined his life, guiding her out the classroom we walked in silence she was constantly avoiding everyones eyes who turned to us so in response i glared at them and they turned away. Just cause i was turning a new leaf didn't mean couldn't install the fear of god into them.

We reached the classroom, walked in and i let her pick the seat she was most comfortable in which was closer to the back window I sat next to her and passed her back her schedule "After this we have History which is at top floor Then Art, Math and Lunch if you want you can sit with my friends?" I shifted in my seat nervously when she didn't reply for a good 30 seconds had i overstepped was she uncomfortable oh god shit shit shit i didn't mean to do that what do i do maybe i ca-

My spiralling was cut off when i heard a small southern voice quiet enough that i almost thought i imagined it "Your okay, don't wanna disturb y'all," She whispered letting her hair fall infant of her face to avoid my eyes as if she said something wrong, Her accent was similar to Mr Rockefeller's except more pleasant and it reminded me of a little mouse it was adorable. "We'd love to have you with us (Y/N) don't worry they'll love you," i gently let my hand hover over her arm not actually touching her but letting her know i was there, in homeroom she seemed to hate physical touch she flinched when someone brushed their hand on hers when she let them borrow a pen not to mention the way she was shaking like a leaf when Mr Rockefeller was practically pressing himself up behind her "I'll make sure they don't bombard you too much, if you get overwhelmed by them I'll take you out of there just tap my knee is that good? " the short time i've known her i guess you could say i'm protective of her.

She gave me a small smile so small in fact I almost missed it, the lesson carried on till the bell rang and everyone filed out chatting with their friends in the middle of the hall way it looked normal to me but she looked like she was overwhelmed her eyes were darting all over the place and she was shaking slightly without a single thought i hovered my hand over the small of her back and guided her to the top floor towards our history class, by the time we got there she had calmed down and was almost leaning in to my touch but i was probably imagining it we made it and the lesson went on as normal other than the teacher welcoming everyone.

@dandelions4us

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

rules have been updated, babes

Rules for Requests...

Now that there's more of you I'm re-making my boundaries post! I like to think I'm pretty easy going request wise, I try to fullfill as many requests as I can. That being said, here are my don'ts when it comes to requests!

-don't repeat requests, like you know how some people copy and paste the same text trying to get a creator's attention? Don't do that please. I personally find it overwhelming, I will get to your request when I can. This is just something I'm doing for fun.

-if you don't like my writing, don't be mean about it. You don't have to read something if you don't want to; no one will ever force you to read it. you can happily skip. If you would like to send genuine feedback to help me improve, that's fine! I love feedback!

-topics i won't write: forced relationships, ab-se, overly toxic relationships, r-pe, girl penis (if a request asks I will just change it to like a packer/strap or something)

-I probably won't be doing any male smut stuff cause i'm not completely comfortable writing that

I hope these go without saying, if something else comes up that makes me uncomfortable I'm allowed to deny a request and it will be added here for future reference

I will write poly stuff! I myself have been in open relationships so I'm perfectly okay writing about it if it becomes a request, I actually encourage it. I love writing poly stuff.

-I write smut requests

-I'll write male characters. No promises on how good they'll be.

Please respect my boundaries. There are no "exceptions" for anyone. If boundaries are broken more than once by one person, it will result in a block depending on the situation.

I think that's all.

[mockerycrow]

PACK CUDDLES (Hybrid!141 x GN!Human!Reader)

multiple characters masterlist

summary; the base’s heaters have all broken and aren’t due to be repaired for a week—it’s the middle of winter and you’re one of the few humans on base.

[WARNINGS; hybrid stuff, can be read as platonic or romantic, fluffy, sickness.]

THE BASE HEATERS decided to break at the worst possible moment—during the harshest part of the winter. They’re baseboard electric heaters that line every barracks room; the general community rooms such as the common area and the training rooms have central air and heating, but they didn’t decide to provide the barracks with the same luxury. It was never much of a problem, really. Nearly everyone on base was a hybrid of some kind, usually a bigger animal due to the needs of the military so they would produce body heat hot enough to keep them warm for the duration of when the electrical technicians would come in to fix the wiring, or replace the heaters.

Unfortunately for you, you are not a hybrid. You were born to completely human family members, and you have no hybrid genes in your chromosomes. Also unfortunately for you, you were for some reason one of the ones tasked with shoveling the pathways and roads on base—your station has no snow plows as the winters are usually mild to moderate, but this year decided to fuck you over harshly. You spent hours outside in the snow, bundled up in your warmest uniform with a winter coat, boots, gloves, hats, and even a balaclava on to keep as much warmth as possible. 

On day 2 without a heater, you woke up in the middle of the night unable to breathe through your nose. Your face is aching terribly—likely your sinuses—and it feels like you swallowed glass and gargled salt water right after. Your chest aches and you overall feel terrible, and you feel both hot and cold at the same time. Even after bundling up in your warmest hoodie and sweatpants—you slept with socks on, too—you just could not evade the sickness. Harsh coughs rack your body, your eyes tearing up as pain shoots through your chest and your throat to your ears. You groan and press your face into your pillow for a moment before you slowly kick your blankets off, pulling your hood up after sitting up.

You slip your feet into your slides and you check the time—0328. Fuck. The boys should be returning from a short mission soon. You hold in a sigh in fear of further hurting your aching throat, making your way towards your bedroom door. You grab your keys on the way out, letting your door close behind you. You squint as the hallway lights irritate your eyes, but you lay them no mind, walking down the hall to seek out the kitchen. Luckily, this base allowed basic medicines in a cabinet in the kitchen, so began your search for some cold medicine, and perhaps some sinus medicine too if you can take both at the same time.

To your sickly delight, no one seems to be awake right now—or at least hoarding the kitchen—despite many of the hybrids on base being nocturnal. You aren’t in the mood to really talk.. Not like you could, anyway. You shuffle your way to the counter with a harsh sniffle, opening the cabinet and rummaging around. You find some compatible cold and sinus medications, and you decide to grab a tea bag and the little plastic jar of honey, deciding that you want to soothe your throat. The air running through your throat makes it ache more. 

You put your forearms on the counter and arch your back, laying your head down as you wait for the electric kettle to heat up the water. At least the kitchen is warm. You holy a bit after it must be a few minutes, hearing the kettle heating up. You lift your head and see steam emitting from the opening, so you switch it off and begin to make your tea, stirring honey into the mug. You shove the pills into your mouth and swallow it down with a wince, using the tea. You sip the tea slowly until the mug is empty, so you quickly wash it out and put it in the sink to properly wash later. With your throat feeling a little better and a handful of paper towels, you head back to your room to go back to sleep.

The next time you wake up, it’s slow and uncomfortable. You’re on your back and you first feel the pain rippling through your throat with every wheezy breath you take—it’s a bit harder to breathe than before, even with the sickness—and then you notice the heat. Wait.. the heat? Isn’t the heater broken?

Your eyes flutter open, unfocused and bleary, with twinges of pain due to the dawn shining through your poor excuse of black-out curtains. Something shifts on your chest, causing you to glance down. When your eyes focus, you’re face to face with a wolf looking husky—striking blue eyes that are peering into your soul, the wolfdog’s fur being thick; white and grey, his ear twitching as he stares back at you. It takes you a moment before recognition filters through. It’s Soap!

A lazy smile spreads on your face as you pet his head between his ears, causing him to lick his snout. “Hey, Soap.” You croak. You sound absolutely dreadful. Three more heads pop out of view, making you flinch ever so slightly. “Jesus!” You hiss, looking at the other three. You’re met with a Grizzly bear, a Barbary lion and a Jaguar; Price, Ghost, and Gaz. Your bed springs croak under the weight of all of them—they broke your frame a year ago, still in the search for a frame that can handle a bunch of weight—and they shift closer to you. A low, rumbling noise comes from Ghost. There’s not much noise he truly makes in his lion form, he often is silent—except for the occasional chuff or intimidating growl—so you know the rumbling means something. 

You reach out to him with your other hand, tangling your fingers in his mane, feeling the rough texture between your fingers. His dark eyes stare at you and if you didn’t know Ghost as well as you do, you would likely be shitting yourself right now. He pushes his snout into your palm for a moment before his rough tongue peaks out and licks over your palm, making you wince from how prickly his tongue is. Ghost then lets out a huff, his breath reaching your face as you watch the Jaguar—Gaz—slink up to your face, the three of them; Gaz, Soap, and Ghost invading your personal space. No doubt that they can smell how sick you are. You think absentmindedly about when they returned from their mission. 

“I’m okay.” You say, your voice hoarse. You can’t help but wince at how you sound, but you don’t dwell on it too much when Gaz’s hard head pushes into your cheek, making you smile. “Yes, I promise.” You add on, moving your hand from Soap’s head to Gaz’s neck, your other hand still attending to Ghost’s mane. You glance over to where Price is, seeing his two little ears peering up behind Ghost. You groan dramatically and pat the spot next to yourself. “C’mon, Captain. You guys can be my heaters, I guess.” You weakly joke, earning a whine from Soap, who hasn’t moved an inch from laying on top of you. You make a noise in return, your eyes feeling heavy once again when the heat surrounding you finally becomes comfortable. “Supposed to fix ‘em soon.” You mumble, already half asleep by the time you feel Price’s nose sniff your cheek, checking in on you.

[heechwe]

the boy is mine | 𝐥𝐡𝐬

୨୧ pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 2.3k ୨୧ genre: smut ୨୧ tags: secret relationship au, semi-fwb, idol!reader, idol!heeseung, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), pet names (baby, love, etc.), unprotected sex. ୨୧ synopsis: A company costume party is not the perfect place for your relationship with Heeseung to be exposed. So, like rational people, you both decide to have a rendezvous in a closet when jealousy rears its ugly head, if only to prove to each other who you belong to. ➸ banner created by @hobeemin ♡

A costume party for hundreds of celebrities was as ideal as expected. The lingering, dramatic stare-offs between exes with bad blood created a thin layer of tension for some partygoers. The whispers of rumored hookups in the bathrooms at parties prior to this one caused an onslaught of prying eyes. With every motion of an idol, there was a microscope ready to catch every moment worthy of gossip.

Heeseung kept to himself since the beginning of the night, only conversing with his fellow members rather than other idols and leadership teams. It wasn’t that the guy was rude, not at all; he just didn’t focus on paying attention to the engagements of his colleagues. His job was to make music, perform, and then live his life. Once he was off the clock, nobody but Heeseung knew about what went on in his bed.  He preferred it that way.

“Come on, Seung. We gotta try and find some action tonight.” Jay tips his cowboy hat in his friend’s direction. The Toy Story costume did not suit him, and Heeseung made sure to tell him so when he bought it as the guys kept to the superhero theme they picked out. But, against the better judgment of his seniors, Jay tends to do what he wants. And tonight, it’s clear where his intentions lay.

“I’m not feeling it,” Heeseung responds, shrugging and drinking the beer in his glass, some of the liquid dripping onto his cowl. The plastic Batman mask itches Heeseung’s face, but it keeps him from being picked out immediately by randoms in the room.

“Seriously? Don’t be such a wet blanket, dude.”

”If you want pussy, go talk to Jake or Hoon, man.” The two aforementioned boys were chatting up some girls from a group under Pledis. With their respective Spiderman and Iron Man masks off, it’s easy to discern their place in the crowd of people. At the bar in the corner with their conversation partners, they’re on a mission to end All Hallow’s Eve with a bang.

Before Jay can respond, his eyes go wide in recognition and a smile spreads across his face. “Ah, I get it now. You’ve been waiting on her.”

Heeseung’s head turns, and he feels all the blood in his body go straight to his core. In a Catwoman costume, completely clad in a latex-coated suit and red lipstick, he may go insane and take you on the floor in front of everyone. Even in the mask that hides half of your face, he can see how your eyes darken when you capture his attention, the borders of his mouth watering at your figure.

He downs what’s left of his alcohol and readdresses his friend. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

”Sure.” When Jay sees you continue your path towards Heeseung, he makes his exit in the direction of the bar. “Have fun and use condoms!”

Heeseung wants to slap Jay silly for saying his parting words so loudly, but the feeling dissipates seeing you so close. 

When you first met, it was a strictly platonic environment between friendly coworkers. It wasn’t in his mind then to progress to whatever your relationship was now, a partnership that dances the lines between a sexual agreement and a full-blown relationship. But now, the feelings in his chest are ready to explode in the tiny banquet hall the company rented for the party. He wants to kiss you senseless, smear your lipstick on his face, and press his face to other parts of you, but he knows that would expose both of you to extreme scrutiny.

It was not out of the bounds of your contract to date or sleep with coworkers under the same label. Still, it was extremely frowned upon by your peers. Keeping your relationship a secret was not difficult though, burner accounts and private meetups both yours and Heeseung’s best friends.

Heeseung tries to keep his sexual appetite at bay when you finally make it to him.  You pose with one hip jutting out, causing your whip to jiggle at your side.

“Selina Kyle, right?” He asks rhetorically, a smirk on his lips.

“Thanks for noticing, Master Wayne.” Your British accent causes Heeseung to emit a chest-rumbling laugh. “You look handsome.”

“And you look…” Although you’re nestled in your corner of the expansive room, he knows he can’t outright describe all the ways he wants to tear the costume off of you. Hands, teeth, the list is endless. But he settles with a simple answer that hopefully says just enough. “Incredible.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause of the spandex.”

His eyebrow quirks, unsurprised you could tell exactly what was on his mind. Six months of fucking made it easy to discern a person’s words from their tells. “I’m saying it because you always look incredible. The spandex is just a bonus.”

The tension between you is electric. Even prior to the first time you slept with him, the signs were there. You felt the buzz under your skin at his presence even if he said nothing and it was ever too brief. His gaze and body would linger during practices or studio sessions,  his being too close but not close enough if you were honest with yourself.

Heeseung tries to be discreet as he attempts to grab your hand under the cover of shadows. You shuck him off in the presence of so many eyes. “Not here, Hee.” You frown, wanting nothing more than to feel his fingers in between yours, his warmth bringing an unexplainable comfort. “You know they’ll talk.”

“They already are.” Heeseung practically hears the bullshit discussions between the surrounding people. Can you believe that? They probably picked out their outfits together. How can they be so obvious?

Your initial confidence is dampened by the thoughts that Heeseung knows you both share, but he shrugs off the chitchat about you both that could be occurring nearby. “Matching costumes can just be a coincidence.”

“Is that what they’re calling it?” You laugh sadly,  knowing you have to leave his side to avoid suspicions. The night may not be over, but you can’t stay too close unless you want to bring everything out in the open. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Heeseung can’t keep his focus on anything but you, conversing and laughing with gentlemen from other groups under the same label. The idiots came up with some Cowboys and Aliens-inspired costumes, and the flirting taking place between you and these men makes Heeseung scoff. How could you be impressed by a guy with a cowboy hat on? 

The interactions occurring in front of Heeseung make his skin crawl, the image of you smiling for guys who aren’t him hitting like a stone in his gut. He knows he’s not your boyfriend, and no labels were ever discussed at the start of your relationship, but that doesn’t take the sting out of it. And his feelings aren’t curbed by the alcohol in his cup.

Unable to avoid his distaste anymore, he excuses himself from his conversation with the random executives who bothered him ten minutes ago to saunter over to your spot in the banquet hall. “Excuse me, gentleman. I need to speak to Catwoman for a second.”

You barely say goodbye to Jeongin and Yeongbo before Heeseung takes you by the arm and into the hallway of the building. He looks around in rapid motion, and finds an open door to shove the two of you into. The makeshift closet provides enough space for the two of you, but not much.

Heeseung takes the cowl off of his head and throws it to his side, his eyes dark due to more than just the black paint around the upper portion of his face. “Heeseung, what’re you—“

He suddenly knocks you back into the wall of the closet and slams his mouth into yours, his tongue and teeth colliding with yours frantically. Your desire spikes when he palms on of your breasts over your costume, the latex wrinkling under his touch, “Fuck, seeing you with other guys drives me insane.”

You scoff, a smirk on your lips. “Like I was happy to see you talking to Yunjin earlier.”

“Don’t be like that.” His eyes glint with mischief at your response, but it melts into pure sincerity that makes your heart kickflip. “You know I only have eyes for you.”

“Likewise.” You nip his lips and knock him down to his knees. Before he can catch his breath, you lower the front zipper at the center of your costume and shrug it off of your arms, revealing the black-lace set covering the places Heeseung knows by heart. “Now touch me.”

“Jesus.” He hooks his thumbs into the sides of your underwear to yank down, careful to not rip the fabric. “Did you plan this or something?” 

“You’re the one that pulled me into this room, baby.”

Heeseung smirks and presses a kiss to the center of your midriff, testing and teasing before going in for the kill. He nuzzles his face against your clit, kissing the bundle with adoration.

In the end, when he first saw you walking over to him at the start of the night, you both had to have known it would end like this, lost in each other and away from the rest of the world’s opinions and influence. Fuck them, Heeseung thinks. If their scrutiny meant he still found himself here, in between your legs and showing you how much you meant to him, he would take every comment with a smile.

“You taste incredible,” Heeseung whispers before passing his tongue against your slick folds, lapping up the wetness like he has never eaten anything better than you. “Just like always.”

“More,” you whisper, putting your hand under his chin to look at you. Even in the low light surrounding the small space, you can see the glint of his lips from your arousal. “I want more of you.”

“As you wish.” He stands up and kisses you deeply. “Wrap your legs around me, love.”

He lifts you with ease, his muscles expanding to reveal their form even in his bulky costume. You can’t wait to feel the heat of his skin against yours later when you’re truly alone. It’s never been a one-and-done with him, going many rounds without stopping, whether you had expected it to go that long or not. His sex drive was unstoppable when he was in the mood, and it seemed whenever he was with you, he didn’t have any intentions of slowing down.

By the time he enters you, your body is already welcoming him from the previous foreplay. It makes him hiss with pleasure, the tone low to avoid any strangers  in the hallway from hearing and speculating. You capture his lips with yours, letting the extent of his moan be swallowed by your lips.

“Does it feel good, baby?” He asks, the whisper as loud as any groan he could emit. He releases one of your breasts from your bra, kneading the skin tenderly. “It’s fucking incredible for me, the way you stretch around me like this.”

“Fuck, you know you’re amazing, Hee.” You scratch your hands down his arms as he thrusts inside of you, the only available skin to take hold of.

“You’re all mine, you know that right?” He captures your eyes with his stare, going slower to punish you until you give him the answer he’s looking for. Fortunately for him, you don’t mind giving him what he wants if he does the same.

“Yes, all yours.” He resumes his original speed, sucking on the skin of your neck to create hickeys only he will know about. He loves to mark you and see your excruciating attempts to cover them up, makeup only going so far before friends and coworkers asked about what had occurred the night before.

If there’s anything as strong as Heeseung’s lust, it’s his pride. And he was as proud as he could be knowing he could claim you so well, even if only the two of you knew about it.

“Hee, I’m gonna come,” you whimper, holding on tighter to reach your end faster.

“Do it baby, let go for me.” He kisses you again to swallow the deep moan that leaves your lips as you come. If only you could shout from the rooftops how good he made you feel. How he was as impeccable as a lover as he was a person, just to make every adoring fan and foe of his envious of your spot in his life.

Your body feels like lead by the time you come down from the high, Heeseung has to hold onto you harder so you don’t crumble onto the floor.

“Hold on tight.” He braces his body with one hand against the wall behind you as his pace speeds up to an exhausting degree. His muscles twitch as he releases inside of you, burying his face in your neck to not let the groan escape his throat. His breath is hot on your skin, but you love the feeling of him so vulnerable as he lets go.

You kiss him quickly when he raises his head, his eyes half-lidded. “For a cat, you didn’t scratch that hard,” he says, lips upturned.

“Fuck off.” Heeseung helps you get dressed again, zipping up the front of your costume for you while you try to wipe away the remnants of your red lipstick from his face to no avail. He’ll have to wipe it off in the bathroom before going back to the party, but you doubt he cares much. “Come to mine after?”

He feels foolish for thinking tonight may be the night to discuss your relationship status, but stranger things have happened. Like the bat and the cat joining forces, per say. He kisses you again before leaving you with, “Of course.”

@seokgyuu @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Doctor's Wife 💘 | Carlisle Cullen Imagine

Set during the events of Twilight (2008)

Twilight Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Carlisle Cullen x female!vampire!reader (romantic), Bella Swan x Edward Cullen, Edward Cullen x reader (platonic)

Content warnings: fluff, light angst, suggestive themes right at the end | female reader (she/her) | wc: 3.5k

requested 📥 yes/no

Premise: When Edward introduces Bella to his family after weeks of avoiding the inevitable, there was no telling how it was going to go down. Of course, what does one expect when they bring their girlfriend over for the first time…. except it's to a family of animal blood-sucking vampires who's lives each deserve a biography of their own. Bella felt the pressure of making a great impression, but the nerves seemed to heighten in regard to meeting the woman responsible for raising Edward throughout his undead life. The woman whose soul was bonded to none other than the Cullen patriarch.

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

Over a hundred years walking the Earth and Edward still experienced the universal feeling of cringe and embarrassment. This time, at the hands of none other than his family as he introduced him to the girl who’d captured his undead heart and made it hard for Edward to stay away. 

“Alright, um,” he swallowed, placing a gentle hand on Bella’s back to nudge her in the direction of the staircase. Away from the prying eyes of his siblings and Carlisle after Alice had to say, ‘Oh, you do smell good,’ and Jesper was literally fighting for his life to keep it together. “Where’s Y/n?”

“In her studio,” Carlisle replied with a smile, the mention of his wife bringing a warmth to his chest. “She’s working on a project and can definitely use a break. She’s been excited to meet Bella since you mentioned bringing her over.” 

Bella blushed, the nerves resurfacing at meeting another member of the Cullen family. The matriarch at that. Edward’s adoptive mother and Carlisle’s wife. 

“Thanks,” Edward turned on his heel, leading Bella in the opposite direction. Mumbling a short goodbye, she followed the vampire down the corridor, past the staircase and a living space before stopping in front of a wooden door. 

Before he knocked, Edward put a comforting hand on Bella’s shoulder, “Calm down,” his teeth sparkled against the light, eyes teasing. “Your heartbeat is out of control.”

“Sorry,” she flushed again, cursing at herself. She didn’t understand why she was so nervous to meet Y/n. More so than the rest of his family. Maybe it was because Edward spoke so highly of her. Maybe it was because she saw the way Carlisle lit up at the mere mention of her name. Or how the townspeople praised Y/n, even if they only had one interaction. 

Edward went to knock, but this time was interrupted by a voice calling out from the other side, “Come in!” Smiling, he pushed open the door, revealing a large room in what only could be described as an organized disarray. 

Bella’s jaw slightly dropped, taking in the scene before her. Eyes first darting to the high ceilings with a drop-down chandelier. Though it wasn’t on, thanks to the natural light provided by the left side of the room with floor to ceiling windows where a wall should’ve been. A beautiful, perfect view of the forest surrounding the home. 

The walls were painted a rusted burnt red, the kind you see in art museums. Floors made of the finest dark wood, with one area covered by plastic reserved for protecting it by the paint cans laying on top, beside an easel holding a large canvas. A very large, vintage clock took the center of the wall connected to the window, surrounded by pieces ranging from old signs to shelves holding books and plants. 

On the main wall parallel to the windows, a map of the world hung, flanked by art pieces. Portraits, landscape. Various mediums of pencil, oils, and acrylic. A phone straight from the 1930s mounted above a small table covered by messy stacks of paper. Bella’s eyes drew to a woven basket that came probably to her waist, filled with pieces of rolled parchment. A few laid on the ground. A foot away from it was a cart holding art supplies. 

Finally, Bella’s gaze landed on the figure in the center of the room. Y/n sat on a wooden stool, her posture perfect, hand scribbling across a large piece of parchment placed on the wooden desk facing the windows. The desk was the type that propped up, a lamp attached to the corner, and side table. Something an artist or engineer invested in. 

“I thought I heard the raging pump of a heartbeat approaching.” Bella squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment, letting out a small groan. Opening them when she heard the skid of the stool against the floor. 

“Y/n,” Edward scolded, tone playful. 

“Apologies, I couldn’t help myself,” Y/n chuckled, approaching the two with a wide smile. Bella held her breath, admiring the woman before her. Alice may have been the fashion girlie of the family, but there was no denying who she must’ve gotten it from. 

Y/n made even the simplest of clothing look ethereal. White blouse tucked into beige trousers, brown belt with hints of gold, paired with stunning white heeled boots. The necklaces she wore were layered, the longest of which had several charms making them clink together, bracelets covering her wrists, three rings on each hand, and gold hoops. A multicolor scarf consisting of warm tones like red, orange, and yellow tied around her hair. Then of course, her eyes were melting gold. 

She was the picture of an artist. 

Upon closer inspection, Bella had to hold back a whistle at the ring reserved for her left ring finger. Carlisle sure had taste and made sure his lady got what she deserved. That was no ring. That was a rock.

“You must be the famous Bella,” Y/n’s hand shot out, Bella hesitating a moment before taking it. Y/n’s handshake was soft yet firm at the same time. Bringing a chill to Bella as their skin met. “It is truly a pleasure to meet you,” letting go of her hand, Y/n brought both of hers up to make a gesture. “I have been begging Edward to bring you around for weeks. I don’t know why it’s taken him so long,” a playful glare was directed at him. 

Edward rolled his eyes, then put an arm around Bella. “Bella, this is Y/n. My mother for all intents and purposes. Artist, architect, and occasional therapist to all of us emotionally stunted immortal teenagers.”

“You said it, not me,” Y/n smirked, hands raised again. 

Bella laughed, comforted by Edwards touch as she regarded Y/n. “It’s really nice to meet you, Y/n. Edward talks about you all the time.”

“Good things, correct?”

“Of course,” Bella assured, nudging Edward who had scoffed. “He mentioned you designed this house--it’s absolutely beautiful. And this--,” motioning to the space, Bella was again in awe of Y/n’s studio. It’s like she was walking through an exhibit in the Louvre. “Wow.”

“When I made the blueprints for this house, I wanted everyone to have a place--plus everyone was vocal about what they wanted,” she teases with a grin. “Carlisle has his study, Alice her closets, Rosalie wished for a garage, Jesper desired a library, Emmett a game room, Edward got his music room. And me,” a hand waves to the room with pride. “My studio.”

Bella raised an intrigued brow, aimed at Edward, “you have a music room?” 

Had he been human, Edward would have blushed. He brushed it off with a shrug, “Yeah, it’s just where I keep a few instruments. I’ll show you as we go through the house.”

“A few,” Y/n lightly scoffed, earning a small glare from the boy. 

“Carlisle said you’re working on a project,” he changed the subject, nudging his head toward the desk. Catching sight of the blueprints that were in the early draft stages. 

“The high school plans to renovate the library, so they’ve asked me to go over some plans and designs. They were pleased with my work for the gym last year.” 

Edward turns to Bella, “Y/n has the magic touch for designing and constructing. And because we’ve had the time to redo college over and over again….” They share a laugh, “she’s got degrees in art, engineering, design, and business on top of her architecture education.”

The woman simply shrugs, “I like to keep busy. Who wouldn't want to take advantage of obtaining all the world’s knowledge when you have eternity.” If she saw the pointed look Edward was giving her, Y/n ignored it. 

“Anyway,” He sighed, returning his attention to Bella, “The town comes to her for consultations. And, in most cases than often, she designs and oversees the build.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Bella awed, past Edward’s shoulder she spotted the white construction worker's hat. Propped beside a coat hanger possessing a pair of overalls, scarves, and painters' boots. “Did you-,” her finger pointed to the display of artwork, “paint all those?”

“Several, yes,” Y/n motioned them to follow her, moving closer to the wall. “This one you might have guessed is the view of the forest from this room. The first one I did when we moved here. But not all are recent, some I did in the 90s--,” she pointed to a canvas framed with gold trimming near the top. Depicting an image of inside a medical tent, “That one is from when I volunteered for the Army Nurses Corps.”

Bella’s eyes bulged, glancing between Y/n and Edward. “You--you served during the War?” 

Y/n nodded, expression now solemn, “First World War. We were living in Virginia at the time and therefore injured soldiers coming back from Europe docked at the bases there first. Carlisle was the trauma surgeon, and I was a nurse.” Her boots echoed against the wood as they strolled down. “We stayed there the duration of the war before settling in Chicago….”

“How long before he wakes up?”

“Not long,” Carlisle kept his eyes on the unconscious boy while his wife paced behind him. Had they been able to sweat they would’ve been drenched. “The venom transferred from his neck. The closest I could get to his heart--it should take less than a day.”

Y/n ran a hand through her neatly styled hair in distress. They’d only been in Chicago a few months. Arriving when the War ended and immediately joining the effort to combat the Spanish Influenza spreading through the population. With their current predicament, there was no way they could stay.  

Ripping the nurses cap off, she asked, “What’s our next move then? We can’t stay here. This city is an endless potluck of people, and we don’t know how strong his urges will be,” she stopped pacing, coming beside her husband with a pleading gaze. “I know you said his parents are dead, but that doesn't mean he may not have family who’ll come looking for him. What kind of people are we to rip him from the ones who love him?” Upon the look she received, Y/n dropped her head, “Unless you mean to fake his death.” 

Carlisle placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “The boy had the influenza. They saw his condition--it was deteriorating. They’ll believe it took him in the night and his body was sent to the incinerators. Just like the others.”

Y/n sniffed, eyes welling with unshed tears. “I know, but…” she trailed off, “He’s a kid, Carlisle. We agreed that when it came time for us to save someone from death, it would not mean robbing them of their life--.”

“He was dying, Y/n,” his tone was firm, yet gentle. “I promised his mother we’d look after him.” Eyes flicker to Edward, then back to Y/n. While Carlisle hated himself for what he’d done, there was no going back now. “He’s our responsibility now. We’ve to teach him the ways of this life and make sure he copes with it. Not succumb to the darkness like we did.” 

Another sound left her, Y/n taking a moment to process before nodding. “Okay,” she whispered, keeping her voice steady. “We take this day-by-day.”

“Day-by-day.” 

“That’s when Edward….” Bella trailed, biting her lip when she realized it wasn’t the best idea to bring it up. Yet, she was surprised both the vampires nodded, understanding her implication. Instead, she said, “He mentioned you’ve been with Carlisle the longest….”

Like earlier with the doctor, Y/n visibly brightened at each time his name was said. “Will be two hundred years this fall.”

“Two--two hundred??” The human spluttered. Edward had failed to tell her that information. Only saying the two had been together long before Carlisle saved him. 

Chuckling at Bella’s reaction, Y/n tucked a piece of stray hair back in its place. “The vampire who bit me didn’t stick around. Abandoning me. A few days later of endless wonder and unable to control my newfound appetite, Carlisle found me.” Her smile was so wide, bright white teeth bouncing off light. “It’s been quite a life ever since.” 

They spent the next few minutes learning about the history of each painting. From the oil masterpiece of the New York Skyline to the charcoal portrait of Joan of Arc. Bella took time to admire the watercolor image of Carlisle. Donned in his white coat, hair and posture perfect. 

“Ah yes,” Y/n hummed, beaming up at the canvas. “My personal favorite. Though I’m a little biased given the muse of this piece happens to be the muse of my soul.” 

“Stay still.”

“I am.” 

“No, you’re not,” Y/n berated, dipping the brush back into the golden color before continuing to paint Carlisle’s hair. “I know this is time consuming, darling, but it’s not like you haven’t done it before.” 

“In my defense,” his hand raised, quickly putting it back in his lap when she groaned, “I’ve never technically sat for a portrait. The ones from Volterra were done while I wasn’t aware they were being painted.” A grimace took his features, remembering his time with the Volturi. “Aro preferred moments to be captured as they were happening in real time.”

Y/n threw him a look, shaking her head in the process. “Yeah, he seems like the type.” 

“First and last time he got to play model,” she laughed at the memory. “Thanks to the creation of the camera I could develop a photograph and wallah!” her hands made a gesture, “A still image to use as reference. And now with cell phones….I don’t even have to put in the work to develop the photo. It’s right there!”

Initially Bella found her reaction to a camera phone a little odd. But then remembered Y/n was a 200+ year old vampire and literally witnessed the development and advancement of technology. 

“But I don’t always create,” Y/n winked, stopping in front of a stunning work of a lily pond. “Sometimes I collect.”

Stepping closer, Bella inspected the art, finger on her lip as her brows furrowed in concentration. She’d seen it before. The familiarity of it was driving her brain into overdrive. Then it hit her, breath hitching, “Is that…A Monet?” Her confirmation nod made Bella nearly choke on her saliva. “How--?”

“Being alive 226 years and getting the privilege of traveling anywhere means I’ve had the pleasure of meeting interesting people,” her smirk was the type a movie villain showed that made the audience fall in love with them and brush away the fact they were a villain. A captivating sight. “One of those people happened to be Claude Monet during our time in France. Our shared love for art and nature brought a great friendship. I was actually with him when he painted this,” she casually said, aware of Bella’s astonished reaction despite her eyes trained on the canvas. “Unfortunately, Carlisle and I left before I got to see him finish. After he died several of his paintings went to museums or auctioned off. I made sure to acquire this one--took me about three years to find.”

After a moment of gawking, Bella gathered herself and moved onto the next piece. It really felt like they were in an art museum. Soon they came to the end of the gallery. 

“You’re incredibly talented,” Bella praised, unable to take her attention off the marble sculpture enclosed in a glass case by the small bookshelf. 

“Thank you. It’s nice to finally have someone to show this all too. Instead of just me admiring it daily.” Y/n put her hands in pockets, “Now I hate to kick you out, but if you’ll excuse me, I have a deadline to beat,” Y/n led them to the door, “and I’ll let you get back to your tour of the house. It was lovely to meet you, Bella, and please don’t be a stranger. Our door is always open for you.” 

“I really appreciate it,” Bella smiled, standing beside Edward in the doorway, “It was great meeting you too.” A wave of a goodbye and promise to visit again, Y/n watched Edward escort his girlfriend up the staircase to the second floor. Leaning against the side, Y/n touched a finger to her lips, not bothering to hide the giant grin surfacing. 

“I know that look.”

Despite speaking after Bella and Edward disappeared, Y/n felt Carlisle’s presence the second he breached the corridor. Not to mention the tingling sensation at the base of her spine. 

Slowly turning to face him, her smile widened, and Carlisle saw the way her golden hues sparkled when he approached. “And what exactly is that look?”

“The one where you’re overcome with happiness unable to be measured with how much it consumes you.” 

Hands took hold of her shoulders, gently brushing down until they reached her own, Y/n leaning into his touch, voice teasing, “What mother would I be to not be overjoyed for her son and the wonderful girlfriend he’s brought home?” 

Carlisle chuckled, tilting his head down to place a kiss on her forehead. The floral aroma of her Marc Jacobs perfume amplified her already sweet scent. Oh, how addicted he was to her scent. It was like walking through a garden of the most beautiful flowers on Earth. 

“You didn’t embarrass him, did you?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, tapping his chest to scold him, “Not much more than you lot. He was practically dragging Bella out of the kitchen.” Carlisle raised his hands in defense, making her raise a brow.

“That was all the kids. I’m innocent, my dear, you must believe me.” 

She tsked, “Well, at least you didn’t scare the poor girl like Rosalie and Jasper. And as much as I love Alice’s excitement, you might want to tell her to take it down a notch,” Y/n made a face, “I thought we all agreed last night not to bring up Bella’s scent.”

She was met with a sigh, her sculptured-God of a husband dropping his head onto her shoulder in defeat. “What was I supposed to do? You left me to fend for myself.” 

Laughing, Y/n reached her arms around his shoulders, encasing him in an embrace to which he greatly accepted. “I’m sorry, my love. Will you forgive me? I promise to find you the finest stag in all of Washington for you to feast upon.” Instantly his head shot up, moving it so their noses brushed against each other. 

“That’ll do.” Their lips met, igniting fireworks throughout their bodies as it always had for 200 years. Never once losing the feeling. 

They’d seen everything in the course of their century's long life. Several wars. Epidemics. The fall of countries and rise of new ones. Medicine advancing, technology overtaking man. The race to space and the rebirth of the Olympic Games. 

Met people who’d changed the world. Witnessed humanity evolve--and sometimes wondered how the hell it could be so stupid. But overall, they were the stagnant figures in their plane of existence. Time moving, they remained still.

And yet, somehow, they were able to find a family after all. 

When they pulled apart, their expressions of love remained. “God,” she hummed, “That never gets old.”

“Just like the first time?” He chafed, gold eyes glimmering.

Y/n pretending to think, lips pouting, “Less nervous,” a squeal escaped her at the feeling of his fingers tickling her ribcage. Shoving him away, the woman chided, “Get back to the hospital old man. There are patients to be seen, and I have a deadline to finish.” The gasp that left him made her grin.

“Old?! I’ll have you know that if I’m old then that means you are---.”

“Don’t you finish that sentence,” her finger pointed at his chest, “otherwise you’re sleeping on the couch.” Carlisle smirked, entering her personal space once again. 

“I can’t sleep. Neither can you.”

“Damn,” she exhaled, feigning defeat when really, she was becoming more invested with their little game. “You’re right.” Then her eyes turned dark, sinister. Face consorting to a look that made Carlisle shudder. 

A look he’d seen hundreds of times, and not once did not bring a chill to his already cold body. Enough to bring his heart back to life. Enough to send the frozen blood down to his spine. 

“Guess we’ll have to find another way to pass the time.” 

[tomriddleslovergirl]

May i request a platonic yandere batfam x willing gn reader who is very unpredictable? Like one night Tim was monitoring them sleeping. He took a sip of his coffee, when he look back, reader is gone. He panicked only to find reader eating a midnight cereal in the kitchen. Or when they went out on a patrol one night and saw the reader waving at them(from a very secluded place), bringing them some snacks.

But the thing is, they never really tried escaping so...what do you think?

Yandere!Batfamily x Unpredictable!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of reader having a bad home life, kidnapping, gn reader

Platonic!Bruce Wayne x Reader, Platonic!Tim Drake x Reader, Platonic!Dick Grayson, x reader, Platonic!Jason Todd x reader

Bruce has a lot of experience with kids doing dumb ass shit and not listening to him, so he’s prepared, even though the circumstances are pretty different, considering how overprotective the whole family is over you.

It kinda makes sense to the Batfamily why you haven’t tried escaping. You didn’t have the best home life before, and having a billionaire as your new “dad” is a pretty big step up from that.

Though before they got it into their heads that you weren’t trying to escape, you gave them quite a few scares.

For example, one night Tim was supposed to be monitoring you while he slept. He had gotten up to get another cup of coffee, but when he came back, you weren’t in your room anymore.

Where did you go and how tf did you get past all those alarms without tripping them?

Tim was quickly looking through each of the monitors, when he saw you in the living room reading a book.

It was obvious that you weren’t trying to escape. Though he didn’t understand why you weren’t trying to leave the manor. Maybe you had gotten Stockholm syndrome?

Another time, Dick was on patrol, bored, when he heard you calling for him.

Curious, he turned around and there you were, waving at him using one hand and the other holding a plastic bag.

What were you doing out here? No way the old man would’ve let you go out this late.

Dick went up to you and you explained that you had snuck out to hang out with him.

Dick lectured you on how sneaking out can be dangerous and told you to not do it again. Though he let you stay with him for a little bit while you both chatted & ate the snacks you brought.

He noted to tell Bruce to up the security.

There have been times you snuck into Jason’s apartment just to hang out with him.

Though, he’ll make you go back to the manor if he has to go on a mission.

[pomefioredove]

Hiii!! Could you possibly do headcanons of overblot boys + adeuce with a s/o who likes to collect figures or like manga or something along those lines? Also I love your writing you’re awesome sauce. feel free to delete or ignore if you don’t wanna do it!! I understand :3

<3<3 ofc

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ collector! reader

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, ace, deuce, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

looking at... [vaguely gestures to Heartslabyul] all that, I can't imagine Riddle has any grounds to complain about knick-knacks or clutter. he literally lives in a minimalist's worst nightmare. he also gives the impression of a collector of odd trinkets. like stamps or antique tea cups. grandma vibes. probably gets you a nice display cabinet for your things

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ace is a sixteen year old boy who balls and thinks of himself as a lady's man. and, I mean, he loves you, but you can tell what he's about to say before he even opens his mouth. weeeeeeb... then he saves up all year just to gift you that one ridiculously priced figure for your birthday. like I said, he loves you, he just has a very... defensive temperament

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

I feel like Deuce is a really good listener (or, at least, he knows how to be quiet when you're talking, unlike a certain other Heartslabyul first year), even if he doesn't quite get it. besides maybe Jack, he's the most willing to watch your favorite shows with you, read your mangas together, hear about each individual trinket you own... even if he still doesn't understand. it makes you happy <3

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona is more of a meh guy. "what do you want, a cookie?" is probably in his top ten favorite expressions. things to say when he doesn't care about something. and. listen. he cares about you, he does, but he's not really the type to pretend. he'll let you talk about your collection, though. as long as you're happy with him, you won't seek out Idia and become completely intolerable (his words, not mine!)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul is having flashbacks to all the junk that Jade and Floyd hoard. but, hey: at least your collection isn't of broken toasters or wild mushrooms. he can respect the pride you take in your hobbies, and the care you... wait, how much does all this cost?

...yeah. okay, he understands. definitely not toasters or mushrooms. your room is practically a museum

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

[Jamil voice] "once you're done playing with your toys will you come help me clean up the lounge"

no, he doesn't get it. you haven't said how much all of this costs because you think he might have a heart attack if he saw the numbers, and you keep your belongings tidy enough for him not to stress. so he doesn't complain

(and also because he knows they mean a great deal to you)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

[Vil voice] "once you're done playing with your toys will you clean up the lounge" lol

he's not exactly jumping for joy when you spend all your allowance on plastic merchandise and picture books. I mean, he's already had to lend you his winter coat, and there was that week you had to stay at Pomefiore because the water at Ramshackle was out... but making purchases seems to make you happy, so he begrudgingly accepts it

there are worse hobbies to have, after all. [side-eyeing Rook]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

I don't even want to write Idia's part. I'm afraid he'll materialize in my room and start fangirling over this (rip idia shroud you would have loved x readers)

but seriously, he's been recommending you his favorite mangas and animes and games. he probably buys you authentic figures that are thousands of thaumarks on a whim 'cause you kinda like the character. very sweet. very thoughtful. when should I book your wedding. etc

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you'd think that Malleus would be astonished? WRONG this guy lives with Lilia "hip with the kids" Vanrouge. who is not only a hoarder, but someone who most certainly has a shelf of manga and figures from his favorite games somewhere in the cavernous hole he calls a room. Malleus has probably gotten him one for his birthday (after the 5 hours it took for him to figure out how to buy things online). so like. it's no big deal to him. if you ever mention wanting new manga or figures or... anything... he will give you twice the amount of thaumarks necessary. he's like that

[teaspacebar]

spiced chai

pairing: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader

summary: you've been living in chicago for about a year, and you're suddenly managing the coffee shop in the well beloved bookstore, nan's. you meet carmen berzatto on a not-so-good day. you're thrust into the everchanging societal landscape that is making friends in your 20s..

word count: ~9.7k

warnings: language, depictions of mental illness, barista!reader, afab!reader (but tried to be as neutral as possible), neurodivergent!reader, they don't kiss, could be read as platonic tbh but there's crumbs in there if you look, takes place over the course of a few months, probably doesn't follow canon fully (i'm not caught up yet forgive me)

a/n: *dumps this here and runs* but actually this piece of writing appeared in my brain and i've been picking away at it for a couple of months. i feel like i've put more of myself into this fic than with anything else i've written, so this is definitely more of a self insert (pls be kind or don't read if that's not your vibe). i'm queer, non-binary, and autistic and i just wanted to insert that into this space. i feel like there's more to explore here, so i might write more for this if i feel so inclined.

Meeting Carmen Berzatto was not on your to-do list for Tuesday morning.

Not that having to run down to the nearest corner store to grab milk - since the milk fridge was on the fritz…again - at 4am was in your plans either. It always seemed like one step forward, three giant leaps back with the little shop on the corner you basically called home. It was weird, to be thrust into leadership as your manager made an abrupt exit. 

The small bookstore, with an even tinier coffee shop, had been your place of work for the last year or so. You loved it. The people were great, and Nan, the shop owner, was absolutely lovely. She was getting up in her years, but the genuine care she had for the employees made all the difference. She put her trust in you to run the cafe, saying “You have the experience, and the care you have for people shows. I know this. Everyone knows this. Now you just have to see it - have confidence.”

“Confidence my ass,” you mutter, carrying five gallons of milk around the corner.

What happens next might have been considered the beginning of a rom-com, but you’re a realist, and the world is shitty.

There’s a crash, and the distinct sound of three of the five gallons of milk dropping onto the sidewalk. You stare, watching in slow motion as the milk forms into a river, dripping off the sidewalk into the gutter.

The person who ran into you curses, “Shit — fuck, sorry, I—I wasn’t looking where I was…dammit.”

You grip the other two jugs in your arms, blinking out of the haze to let out a hysterical laugh. “Great…cool cool.” Cold plastic bites into your fingers, and you take a deep breath. “Yeah, okay, what else was gonna happen?” You finally look up to see the one you collided with. The man looks extremely uncomfortable, foot tapping like he wants to bolt. Plastering on a smile you shake your head, “It’s fine. I’m the one who thought carrying five gallons of milk would be fine.” You ramble on, trying to ease his nerves, “I mean — why would I drive, like, thirty seconds. Park, get the milk, come all the way back. Seemed stupid…but now there’s milk in my socks.” You grimace, fighting the urge to chuck the remaining jugs of milk in the street so you could also hurl your milk-soaked shoes and socks after them. It makes the ache in your chest sharpen.

“Here, where are you —“

You cut him off, “No, no, it’s okay. I got it, thank you.” You gesture to the door that’s just a few feet away from you. “This is me, anyway.” You adjust your hold on the milk, brushing past the man to pull open the door. You catch it with your hip, not daring to look back as you head behind the counter. You release a sigh, setting the bane of your existence on the black speckled marble. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, pressing the backs of your hands to your eyes. You shake out your arms, biting your lip. “Okay, asshole, let’s get your shit together.” You quickly put the milk into the small fridge below the bar and walk to the back. The squish of your socks curdles your stomach, and you breathe through your mouth to avoid the smell. You take off your shoes, throwing them into a plastic bag to take home. Tossing your socks into the garbage, you grab your replacement sneakers and socks from your cubby. It wasn’t the first time you’ve dropped something on your shoes, it wouldn’t be the last.

You take your time in the back. You had gotten to the shop around 4am, unable to sleep. You were messing around with recipes, seeing if there was a possibility of baking some of the food in the cafe fresh, instead of outsourcing. It was something you put on your own plate, and you didn’t want to disappoint Nan. You had shown up early, looking to try out some muffins, and noticed the fridge had been hovering at sixty degrees all night. You’ll have to grab some more milk before the day starts, but that could be a problem for 8am you.

Walking through the swinging doors, you jump as you see someone at the bar counter. Pressing a hand to your fluttering heart, you finally take in the man that had run into you earlier. A mop of curly hair on his head, white tee, very blue eyes…and standing behind eight gallons of milk.

“Um…” you look between the milk and him a few times.

“The…uh – the door was unlocked. Figured I owed you one.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“How’d you even get it all here?” 

“Made two trips.” His gaze snaps back to you as you laugh, this time more genuine. “Fridge go out, or somethin’?” You’re still staring at him like he has two heads, and he rambles on, “Sorry for just…barging in. I used to go to this place…when I was kid. My sister and I would grab whatever pastries they had left for the day. And, yeah, we’d just sit, read random shit. I work at the restaurant just down the street…’s why I ran into you. Wasn’t paying attention – sorry, again.”

Suddenly, it all clicks. “You own The Bear.”

“Uh, yeah – yeah, I do.”

You feel nervous, out of the blue. Nan hadn’t stopped talking about the Berzatto’s, and Natalie had become a regular while the restaurant was being remodeled. You’re sure you’d seen other employees come in as well, for reading material. You vaguely remember talking to a very sweet man about baking, as he carried a ton of cookbooks in his arms.

You knew Carmen Berzatto, but only through the words of others – and the research you did late one night because you were nosey. To have him standing in the bookstore you worked at, for him to have gotten you milk, is sending you for a loop. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you begin to put the milk in their new home. You really need to call the refrigerator guy again. 

“That’s so cool,” the words fall from your mouth, others staying in your head. 

It's insane that someone like him is even speaking to you. He’s around the same age as you; He owns a restaurant and you’re barely able to run a tiny coffee bar in a bookstore. You’re an idiot who dropped milk onto the sidewalk. Why didn’t you just take the car? You should’ve just taken the car. Now Carmen fucking Berzatto has bought you milk at 5am because he feels bad for you. How pathetic. Call the fucking refrigerator guy.

“Thanks…for the milk.” You back away from the counter, gesturing behind you, “Lemme grab some money from the cash box real quick.”

“No, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s really fine, you didn’t have to go out of your way. I’ll be right back.” The itch creeps its way up your spine, and you push through the door as a shudder passes through you. You shake out the twitch, going and grabbing the cash box. You do mental math, trying to see how much you should give him. Did he even need the money? “Idiot,” you chide yourself. Today was not the day for your brain. 

Snagging a twenty and a ten, you rush back out to the bar, only to find the store empty. A groan escapes through your teeth, and you clench the cash in your hands, crumpling it. You walk to the front door, peering out to see if you can spot the chef. He must’ve made a quick getaway. As you turn to get prepped for the day, you spot a brochure on the counter, far away from its home of the stand at the front of the bookstore. Eat Your Way Through Chicago! 

Scribbled on the front is a phone number, and the words:

Fridge  Ask for Fak Say Carm sent you

“Fucking fuck.” You whisper, a smile creeping on your face against your will, “Asshole.”

It’s later in the week when you hear the bell attached to the front door – ding! You poke your head up from where you're arranging some alternative milks under the counter, seeing a familiar blonde.

“Hey, Natalie!” You pop up, an easy grin appearing on your face. “Half-caff?”

She nods, “Please.”

“How are you?” 

“Oh, you know.”

You ring her up quickly, then grab a pitcher to steam some milk for her latte. Natalie walks away from the counter to browse some books. The steam wand whirs, and you watch the vortex inside the pitcher. You touch the sides every so often, waiting for it to get to the right temperature. Making drinks is all muscle memory now, and you tamp the espresso grounds into the portafilter with precision. Wiping the excess from the lip, you lock it into the machine and press the shot button. As the shot pulls, you wipe down the steam wand with a wet cloth. 

“Is this any good?” Natalie has come back over, holding up a book with a half-naked man on the front.

You laugh, “It’s a Nan recommendation, so…” The shots are poured into the paper cup, and you swirl the milk into it, doing a quick tulip design. You sprinkle a little cinnamon over the top, before placing it in front of the woman.

“Smutty then, for sure.” Natalie laughs, then does a little excited gasp when she sees the latte art. “It looks so good every time!” 

“Thanks,” you reply, “Gets covered by the lid, but it’s fun to practice.”

“Too bad you don’t have for-here mugs,” she says thoughtfully.

“Ever the idea-haver! There'd be more spills to clean up – Nan would lose her mind if any books got ruined.” You point to the book still in her hand, “You want me to ring you up for that?” It was early enough in the afternoon that the only other person here was a part-timer, Jack, somewhere between the shelves stocking books. You had convinced Nan to upgrade to a different register system (which ended up saving money in the long run), so you’re able to ring up both books and café products at your register. 

She shakes her head, sighing. “I barely have any time to read, these days. I was thinking about trying out audiobooks? I used to listen to them at my old job, but it’s way too loud in the kitchen for that to work out.” The latte goes to her mouth, a pleasant hum leaving her as she takes a sip. “You’re the best.”

“Thanks, Natalie.”

She squints at you, “It’s Nat, c’mon.” A big conspiratorial grin makes its way onto her face, “So, I heard that you got some help with your fridge.”

A sharp pain twists in your chest. “Oh, um…yeah.” You let out a soft chuckle, “It’s working, which is great. Neil was a big help.”

“He said you made him the best hot chocolate he’s ever had,” Natalie taps the counter with her pointer finger twice. “Said he didn’t know how you got his number, though.” 

You shrug, wiping down the counter, “Nan had it. And the usual guy wasn’t calling me back.” Neil had told you the exact same thing, both about the drink and the number. Something had held you back from saying where you got the number from. Embarrassment, maybe? It felt weird, feeling like you owed anyone favors, or that things would be unbalanced. People usually never give without looking to receive.

“Frankie, right? He’s an asshole. Overcharges for everything.” Natalie doesn’t push you for answers, something you’re grateful for.

“Right! He disappeared one time and said he’d ‘be right back’ and then was gone for like, two hours! And he added that to his hourly!” The two of you giggle at the shittiness of people for a minute, when a ping causes Natalie to pull her phone from her pocket.

“I should run.” She reaches into her purse, and puts a five into your tip jar. “Thanks again!” 

As she turns to go, you call out her name. “Would you - maybe - I have some extra muffins. The place we get them from gave us some of the wrong ones…or they’re a tad over baked, or something. I can’t sell them. Would you wanna take them with you?”

“That’s so sweet of you! Yeah, I’m sure they’ll get eaten up.”

You grab the box of muffins, handing them over to her, “Thanks.”

“Thank you, babe.” She leaves with a smile, and you look down to brush the flour off your apron. 

“Hey, guys, I got some goodies!” Natalie sets the box of muffins on the table, where everyone is seated for family meal. 

Neil immediately grabs the box, pointing to the sticker on the top, “You went to Nan’s? Man, I could use a hot chocolate right now.” 

“I’m sure you can walk over there and order one, my love.” Natalie replies, waving for him to put the box back on the table.

Marcus snags two muffins, handing one to Sydney who is sitting on his right. Taking a bite, he stops chewing, eyebrows raised. “Dude,” he nudges the girl next to him.

“Dude,” Syd parrots, popping some muffin into her mouth. “Wait, woah.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” 

“Nat, where did you get these?” Sydney calls to the woman now sitting at the end of the table. The muffins are passed down the rest of the table.

Marcus has started dissecting the muffin, “Macadamia nuts, sick.”

“Oh they’re from Nan’s just down the corner!” She tells them how you offered them to her since they were the wrong ones from a vendor and possibly over-baked.

Syd snorts, “Over-baked? These are perfect!”

“What’s perfect?” Carmy walks out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Bear, come eat!” Natalie waves him over, pulling him into the seat next to hers. “You’ve been at it all morning, take a minute, okay?” She gives him a look that tells him not to argue, and he huffs in response, but does as she says.

“What’s perfect?” He asks again, taking the muffin box from Sweeps as it’s passed to him. As the cinnamon crumble topping hits his taste buds, he leans back in his chair. “Shit.”

“That’s what we’re saying!” 

Syd and Marcus begin talking over one another, the dull roar of family making its home in Carmy’s ears. He has another bite of muffin, thumb swiping over the sticker atop the box.

Nan’s Books & Brews

Simple lettering, surrounding a doodle of a coffee cup sitting on an open book.

“When did they,” he clears his throat as he leans closer to Nat, “when did they start doin’ stuff like this?”

Natalie purses her lips, “Not sure, honestly. They only had that small coffee machine and that plastic pastry case when we were growing up, remember? I think they added the actual coffee bar right before Covid?” Carmy nods, looking out the windows, a curdle in his stomach.

“A lot’s changed,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Nat sighs, a hand over her stomach, “a lot has.”

A few weeks go by, as uneventful as they can be. You try out more recipes, and the staff of Nan’s is always sent home with one treat or another. Muffins, cinnamon rolls, croissants (which were a bust), and the like. Natalie is still a regular, and Neil has shown up to save your ass more than once. The brochure with his number on it taunts you from where it’s stuck up on the corkboard in the back.

Which is what has led you to standing in front of The Bear, a joe-to-go in one hand, paper bag in the other. An envelope burns in the inner pocket of your flannel jacket. Steeling your nerves, you knock on the door. Some yells are heard from inside, nicknames getting passed around like it’s a holiday dinner. You see a man walk towards you, in a nice suit, and he opens the door.

“Can I help you?” It’s not said unkindly, but there’s a look in his eyes that’s making you nervous. 

“Coffee delivery?” You say sheepishly, holding up the coffee traveler by its cardboard handle.

“Richie, who’s at the - hey!” Natalie immediately smiles when she sees you, and you sigh a breath of relief. Things were easy with her; she had this amazing way of comforting you without even trying.

“Hi,” you wiggle your fingers, still keeping hold of the objects in your hands. “Wanted to say thanks for all the help Neil’s been giving me, and when Nan found out, she insisted I bring over some coffee for the team, so…”

“You workin’ at Nan’s?” The guy - Richie - asks.

“For the past year or so, yeah.” You reply, thanking Natalie as she grabs the paper bag from you.

“Let them in, Richie, c’mon.” She presses on his chest, causing him to back up with his hands in the air. “Come in! I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted to come by for a tour.” You follow behind her, taking in the layout of the place. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a sense of awe falls over you. She has you set the coffee traveler on the bar, letting you take the paper bag from her hands. You pull out a cup holder with two cups in it.

“One half-caff french vanilla latte for you and…a hot chocolate for Neil.” As if by magic, Neil pops through the door to the kitchen.

“For me?!”

You chuckle as he pulls you into a hug. When he pulls away, he grabs his cup with a happy sound, rushing back into the kitchen when “Fak!” is yelled.

“The fuck Fak get a coffee for?” Richie frowns, causing you to bristle. Natalie swats at him, beginning to explain as you continue to walk around the restaurant. As you pass by a wood table, your fingers tap on it, the sound echoing in your ears. It sends a shiver through you, and a small smile appears on your lips. 

Natalie calls out to you, tearing your gaze back to her. People have begun to swarm around the bar, placing food on it, and your coffee is suddenly surrounded by things that smell amazing. “Did you want to eat with us, babe?” Attention turns to you, and the itchiness in your limbs reappears with a vengeance.

 A tall man, wearing a beanie, grins, “Hey, those muffins were amazing, by the way.”

You sputter, “Oh. Um—“

“Tell the chef, or baker — whoever,” he laughs at himself. “They were fire.”

Warmth rises in you, “Yeah, I’ll pass it on.”

“Babe, lunch?” Natalie says again, louder this time. More of the staff have begun digging into their meals.

“No, it’s okay!” The corner of your mouth curves up in a small smile, this one less genuine than before. You begin to back up towards the door, a gnaw of guilt in your gut as Natalie frowns. 

“Cousin! Food!” Richie yells out, followed by laughter from everyone else.

“I’m coming!” A familiar figure bursts through the kitchen door, “You don’t gotta yell like an asshole.”

Carmen Berzatto stops in his tracks when he sees you; the envelope in your pocket burns hotter. You look down at your shoes, but they just remind you of the milk dripping down the sidewalk.

“Carm,” Natalie introduces you, “they work at—“

“Nan’s.” Everyone chimes in, and you have to stop yourself from flinching. You look over at Carmy, eyes meeting.

There’s a moment where you feel like you’re going to get swallowed whole. The pipes are going to burst and water will fill up the room and you’re going to drown.

You walked straight into a den of hungry beasts, and you’re just a measly rabbit.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Natalie’s words are muffled in your ears, but you manage to shake your head.

“I have someone from books covering me, and they barely know how to work the espresso machine.” You force a laugh. It grates against your vocal chords. “It was nice meeting you guys, though.” With a meek wave, you turn on your feet and speed out the door. Rounding the corner, you keep walking until you’re sure they can’t see you. Veering into the alleyway behind the restaurant, you let out a shaky breath, leaning against the brick. 

You press your thumb into the palm of your hand. Inhale, hold four seconds, exhale. Inhale, hold four seconds, exhale. It’s over before it starts, but your chest remains tight. A reminder, which will eventually dissipate once you're back in the shop.

The coffee bar, your shield; apron, your armor. 

A door opening causes you to jump, startled. Your eyes meet blue, widening like you’ve been caught. “Sorry! I was just–” You push off the brick.

Carmen seems just as surprised as you, “No, s’fine.” He clears his throat, as the two of you settle into silence.

A fwip of a lighter. Four seconds. An exhale of smoke.

You’re unsure if you should leave, but it’s like the bottoms of your shoes are stuck to the ground. “Did you-” He starts, lifting up his hand that holds a lit cigarette.

You shake your head, “No, but - um, thanks.” Your fingers twitch, and you reach to pull the envelope from inside your jacket. Something that appears so insignificant, held out in the space between you. When he just stares, you wave it a bit, until he takes the envelope with his free hand.

“What’s this?” 

“Cash, for the milk you bought.”

“You didn’t have to-“

“I did.” You bounce on your heels, “I should actually get going this time. Just wanted to give you that but…” He doesn’t respond, something you’re getting used to. You wonder where the man who rambled about reading with his sister at Nan’s went, but decide now is the best time to make your escape. As you start to walk toward the street, you turn, “The restaurant looks great, by the way. Good luck with the opening.”

“Good luck with the opening.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

"Let it rip, Bear."

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“-a complete waste of fucking time.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“I’m really sorry you feel that way, Carm.”

Natalie invites you to Friends & Family.

You don’t go.

The next month flies by. Marcus, Richie, and Syd have joined your little group of regulars. Richie even brings his daughter, Eva, whenever he’s able. She’s a joy and absolutely hilarious to have around. Richie has grown on you, the rough edges of him softening after a few cortados.

One night, he had rushed into the shop, Eva in tow, all but begging you to watch her for a few hours. He was supposed to be off for the day, to spend time with his daughter, but they’re understaffed at The Bear. A few weeks in, which confused you, but questions weren’t asked. You said yes - obviously - and had Eva help you with little things around the shop, until you close. The two of you bonded over a shared love of Taylor Swift while making muffins. By the time Richie came to pick her up, Eva was tuckered out in a loveseat, patchwork blanket tucked up to her chin.

“I owe you one,” Richie had whispered, holding his daughter in his arms.

You shook your head, “You deserve to have time with her.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, bring it up with the Bear himself.”

You weren’t planning on it. The man is barely on your mind. Except for every time someone from The Bear walks in. They look drained, more and more each day. It’s a certain type of pain, to watch people – that once had so much life in them – lose the light that you felt so harshly the first time you walked into the restaurant. You hear inklings; mentions of a changing menu every night, nonnegotiables, and the like.

It worries you. It’s not your place - you’re more than aware of that. But you’ve come to care for these people. And by extension, some part of you wants to see how he’s doing. It’s an odd - biting -feeling. How strange it is, to know someone through everyone else’s eyes but your own. You have to fight back the urge to force yourself into the places you do not fit. You’re resigned to watching from afar, providing comfort behind your coffee bar. It’s what you’re good at. It might be all you're good at.

Some sick twist of fate decides to upturn it all one Friday night.

Carmy had stayed late, to nobody’s surprise. He’d been adjusting the menu, preparing it for tomorrow, when the flashes hit him. He decides to walk it off, popping another thing of nicotine gum into his mouth. He walks aimlessly, trying to push the overwhelming thoughts out of his head. The street is dark - most places being closed - but light pours onto the sidewalk, just a few feet ahead of him. Almost a reflex, he peers into the windows.

A laugh of disbelief - more a huff of air through his nose - leaves him.

You’re dancing, headphones over your ears, as you mix something in a large bowl. It’s unlike anything he’s seen - from you or otherwise. There’s a sense of freedom in your movements, so different from the few times he’d seen you before. The tightness in his chest lightens, some, at the sight of you so obviously in your element.

And you're looking right at him.

“Shit,” he mumbles. You tilt your head at him, doing a little wave. He lifts a hand in reply, and you point haphazardly at the door. Before he can respond, or walk away – anything, you’re heading around the counter. A click of the door unlocking, and you pull it open part way.

“Hey,” you say, a little loud. With a wince, you pull the headphones off to rest around your neck. Music can be heard – a muffled, upbeat song that he doesn’t recognize. “Hey,” you say again, quieter this time. Silence passes between you, and he watches your nose twitch. “…did you wanna?” You jut your thumb behind you. You’re almost unrecognizable from the first time you met, calmer, somehow.

“Yeah, sure.” The words come out, easier than he thinks, and slips through the door you hold open. You lock it behind him, turning back around to slide behind the counter.

You grab a muffin tin, beginning to fill each one with a scoop of the batter you had been mixing. You make quick work of it, pushing them into the small commercial oven, wiping your fingers on the towel that’s pulled through a loop in your jeans.

Leaning against the counter, you finally look at him, “Okay, Pick your poison.”

“What?”

“Coffee? Americano, latte, cappuccino?” It’s like you’re trying to read him, wanting to crack the spine of a book and see what’s inside.

“I don’t really do the…caffeine.”

You hum thoughtfully, tapping your fingers on the counter in some type of rhythm. “Can I make you something? Low-caffeinated, of course.” He nods. “Anything you hate?” A shake of his head.

You grab a cup and get to work. You’re singing under your breath - the song that’s playing from the headphones around your neck. With your eyes off of him, he takes a moment to actually observe the shop. Warm lighting, with dark wood bookshelves making it feel cozy without being too claustrophobic. There’s smaller tables, with different recommendations for certain genres. A sprinkling of string lights and hanging plants just adds to the homey feeling, one so different from the pristine, white kitchens he’s used to being in. So different from his own restaurant. The coffee shop portion is close to the front, dark marble countertops and a chalkboard menu - swirling letters describing monthly drink specials.

“Alright, order up,” you call out softly.

Carmy walks back up to the bar, eyeing the cup. Warmth presses into his skin as his fingers curl around it. You mention that it’s hot, to let it cool for a bit. Silence falls between the two of you - in a way he finds comforting. Your eyes flick between him and the counter you’re wiping down.

“Do you normally do this?” He asks.

“The making drinks thing, or the staying at the shop way too late thing?” You give a wry smile. “Could ask you the same.”

He scratches at his nose, “Noted.”

The minutes pass; you go about cleaning the shop, rinsing dishes and setting things up for the next day. It’s an art he’s well versed in. The muscle memory takes over for you, and Carmen becomes invisible. It feels nice, to just be in a place where nobody has anything to ask of him. He finally tries the drink. It’s good, milky, if a little sweet, but it eases the last of the sourness in his stomach away. A timer on your phone goes off, and you tug on a flowery oven mitt to pull the muffins out of the oven. Chocolate and spice invades his nostrils, soothing him even more. You grab one, hissing a bit since it’s hot, and put it on a plate, bringing it back over to him. Leaning over the bar, you reach for forks that are in a metal cup, right near Carmy. You’re close, with no care about being in his personal space. It’s only for a second, and then you’re back in your previous position.

“You can have some, as long as you promise not to be an ass about it.” You hold out a fork for him. The words cause him to cringe, but he takes the utensil from you.

He stares at the muffin, running his thumb on the underside of the fork. “How much trouble am I in?”

You shrink back a little, “W-what?”

He’s met you what - twice? Both times felt clunky, an awkwardness to the both of you. Here, it’s simpler. Under the cover of night, huh? A voice that sounds awfully like Mikey’s says in the back of his mind. His family won’t stop talking about you. Or drinking your coffee.

“The Bear,” he mutters. “They talk to you, right?”

You laugh, surprised. “Do you actually want to know?” You hold up a hand before he can reply, “Actually, no. They don’t talk to me. I see things, sure. But I’m not getting anyone in trouble with the boss.” You’re on the defensive, not even for yourself, but for his kitchen.

“They-They’re not in trouble.” One look from you and he deflates, sighing. “Okay, yeah. Just…just say something.”

“I haven’t even been to eat there.”

“You should come,” he says.

Another laugh - a scoff, more-like, “You think I could afford your place?” You bite your lip, pinching the bridge of your nose. After a moment, you continue, gently, “Do you have any fun?”

“Fun.” The word is like poison in his mouth.

“Yes, fun. I know that food service isn't the best, but it’s good to have fun, or to at least enjoy it.” You wave your hands around, “That family meal stuff you guys do? That’s so sweet, and you have a whole family unit going on in that kitchen, or whatever. If this restaurant is supposed to be the rest of your life, you should like it, at least a little bit, right?” Your torso melts into the counter, and you rest your head on your arm. “And like, maybe? Don’t change the menu every night, or something. It’s new, right? You gotta work out the kinks first before jumping in all-” you blow air out through your cheeks.

A beat of quiet, then, “The menu, huh?”

“Eleven thousand for butter?” You parrot back. At his frown, you hold up your hands, “I’m just a barista, what would I know?” You say it without heat, and yet he feels guilt crawl up his throat.

“That’s not-”

“I know, Carmen.” A sigh leaves your lips, “You asked, so I talked. Again, take everything with a grain of salt.” The words get softer, as if you’re talking more to yourself than to him, “Just remember who’s going down with you if it ends up crashing and burning.”

You stab your fork into the muffin, tearing it in half. He follows suit, lifting a bite of it to his lips. Spice floods his taste buds, and he grunts. You blink up at him, fork hanging from your mouth. He’s suddenly starving, and he eagerly gets himself another forkful. “S’good.” He mumbles through the food. Carmen watches as you process his words, pressing your lips together to hide a smile. You two finish the muffin, and there’s an ominous sense of peace that covers him like a blanket. “Thanks.”

“For yelling at you?”

Carmy lets the chuckle spill out, “If that’s what you call yelling…” He trails off, sobering, “Do you have fun?”

You hum, contemplating. “Yeah. I mean, it’s coffee, at the end of the day. It’s just nice to see people, to make their day a little better than it was. I like to try out new things, to create, to get recommendations.” You stop, seeing him staring at you, “What?”

“You’re different…from the other day, s’all.”

You’re perplexed, scrunching your nose, “Well I had a bad day, the first time. And I don’t do…well, with new people.”

“Unless you’re behind the counter.”

Your eyes widen, something flickering behind them, like he’s seen something you didn’t want him to. “Touche.” Checking your phone, you clear your throat, “Alright, we should probably get out of here if we want any semblance of sleep.” He follows your lead, as you flick off the lights, throwing you backpack over your shoulder. He waits while you lock the front door, small key dangling on a keychain. You turn, looking at him, before holding out a paper bag, “Muffin for the road?”

He grabs it, an odd feeling bubbling in his chest, “Oh - uh, thanks.”

You suddenly look sheepish, fiddling with the strap of your bag, “And if you’re out late again, feel free to stop by. If you need a break, or something.” A beat. “Oh, again, take what I said with a grain of salt, yeah? Just - maybe - try to take care of yourself a little.” You laugh nervously, and Carmy sees the truth of his earlier observation. You’re still more relaxed, but the nerves have crept in as you step outside your comfort zone. Something he knows all too well. “Anyways, have a good night - morning.” You shake your head, blowing a raspberry through your lips.

“Night. Get home safe.” He murmurs. You turn on your heel, walking down the street. He tightens his grip on the paper bag.

Take care of yourself.

At least enjoy it.

You should like it, at least a little bit, right?

Carmy doesn’t know if he truly remembers what liking cooking is like. He’s found little bits of it, in moving back home. In Marcus’ eyes as he creates something new. In Syd’s determination to make amazing food. There’s a passion there that he’s lost somewhere along the way.

He sees it in you, and it calls out to him - the tide being pushed and pulled by the moon. A curious feeling, gnawing at his stomach. A hunger for something he can’t make sense of, but he pulls the muffin out of the bag to eat on his walk home.

Carmy keeps showing up at Nan’s, usually late at night. You didn’t expect him to take you up on your offer, yet a smile graces your lips every time he does.

He was right, when he said you feel most comfortable behind the counter. You knew it, but having someone else acknowledge it felt…weird. Like you weren’t playing your part right. Yet it also felt good, to be seen.

Conversation between the two of you still feels stilted, occasionally, but you find comfort in the quiet moments. And the not-so quiet ones; with music playing at just above a reasonable level, you mouthing the words as you dance around behind the bar. The mask slowly slides off when he comes around, and it’s easier to be goofy.

You think it surprises him. He’s not quite sure what to do, when you’re cruising on the linoleum tile you call a dance floor. But he never tells you that you’re weird, or too much. You’ve maybe even seen him bite back a smile. You swear there’s dimples hiding somewhere — a fleeting thought that you let fly away before you linger on it too long.

“What do you think?” You’ve turned the music down, notepad on the counter, your favorite pen in hand. You click it a few times, sound satisfying the little itch in the back of your brain.

“Not sure if I’m a matcha fan,” Carmy murmurs. You nod, writing down his response onto the paper. It’s almost filled — you’ll have to turn to the next page soon — with different drinks you’ve had Carmy try, determined to find the right one. He’s harder to pin than others, something you’re not necessarily surprised by.

That's partially on you. You're unsure of how much to ask. How much could you poke the both metaphorical and literal Bear until it breaks? You've been enjoying your time, but you've yet to ask him how work is going. He doesn't ask you about your personal life, so why would you ask about his?

There's a curiosity there, though. To see what makes Carmen Berzatto tick. You fear the two of you might be a little too similar.

You turn to go back to cleaning your mess — the reason being a fresh tray of cookies cooling on the counter, when he says your name. “Did you get a new tattoo?”

Gaze flashing to the wrap you have on your arm, peeking out from the sleeve of your shirt, you turn bashful. “Oh,” you hum, “I did. It’s been on my list for awhile. I’m keeping it wrapped at work while it heals - god knows I spill everything all over myself.”

“Can I — What did you get?” He’s just as sheepish as you, a boyish glow about him. You’d never talked about tattoos before. His evidence is on his arms; yours are mostly concealed — easy to hide with the oversized button downs and jeans you wear.

You pull your phone from your back pocket, “Here, I’ll pull up a photo of it.” Placing your phone on the counter, Carmy grabs it, zooming in on the two-headed calf that’s found its home on your bicep. The tattoo is fresher in the photo, line work popping out against your skin. “The longest living two-headed calf lived 17 months. Her name was Gemini — a little on the nose, I think. There’s also this poem by Laura Gilpin, that just kinda struck me.” Your ramble tumbles off, a half smile pulling at your lips. “It’s sad, but the kind that makes you hurt in a nice way? If that even makes sense.” You wave a hand around, then reach to take a sip from his cup.

The matcha settles the nerves hiding under your skin, the earthy flavor dancing on your tongue. As you set the cup back on the counter, you point at his hand, “What’s that stand for?” Your own fingers twitch, fighting the urge to brush them across his own. “S.O.U?”

“Ah, sense of urgency.” He says, fiddling with your phone.

You laugh, quickly covering it with a hand, “Sorry, I — sorry, that just makes so much sense.” Before he can speak, you shake your head, “Not in a bad way, necessarily. It’s just so obvious how little work-life balance you have.”

“We’re literally at your shop in the middle of the night.” Carmen huffs exasperatedly, corner of his mouth curling up.

You hold your hands up, conceding, “Okay, I get it. Misery loves company - or whatever. God, we’re both crazy, aren’t we? We should get out more.”

He hums in response, tapping his phone twice to check the time. Anxiety swells up in your throat, and there’s something biting at your heels. The silence doesn’t feel comfortable anymore.

You said something wrong, the little voice in your head whispers. You lost the script and got too close and now he’s pulling back. How can you fix it? You have to fix it.

“What’s your favorite one?” His blue eyes glance up at you. Invisible hand squeezing your lungs, you stammer, “Tattoo. What’s the one you like most?”

His words come out softly, “A house boat. I, uh, got it before leaving Copenhagen. I stayed in one while I was over there, and put out water for an invisible cat.” Relief floods you as he talks. It’s the most he’s spoken about anything, and you see a glimmer behind his eyes.

It feels a little too close to home.

“You really loved it over there, huh?”

As if caught, he clears his throat, “It was cool…different.”

Different from Chicago, you don’t say. “I get that,” you murmur instead.

You knew what it was like, to run away. The need for escape pushing you into flight as the metaphorical dog chases the rabbit.

You wonder what Carmen’s dog was. Or is. If it’s even a dog at all.

“What about you? What’s your favorite?”

You’re pulled from your thoughts. “Oh! Um, it’s silly.” You worry at your bottom lip.

“You don’t—”

“No, hold on, it’s just,” you push yourself onto the counter with the palms of your hands. Carmen leans back as you swing your legs over the bar, letting your feet rest on the barstool next to him. You lean over, pulling up your pants leg to show the tattoo on the right side of your calf. He stares at it for a moment, confusion clear in his gaze. “See, I told you.”

“Is it a moth, or something?”

“Moth-man, Carmen. Mothman.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“He’s a cryptid. There’s literally stories of a Chicago Mothman.” He peers up at you in amusement, causing you to scrunch your face at him. “I swear on my life Carmen Berzatto, don’t be an asshole.”

“I’m not.” He laughs, and your chest loosens. You got Carmen Berzatto to laugh. “It looks good, the style is nice,” he gestures to your leg.

You smile, “Thanks.”

Nodding, he goes to sip from his cup. He makes a face, pulling it away from him, “Yeah, I don’t like this.”

He holds it out to you as you reach for it, laughter spilling from your lips, “More grass for me.” You drink, and let the cup rest on your thigh, fingers tapping on the plastic lid.

“I’m not…” Your head turns to look at him, watching as he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not really good at this.”

“...at what?” You whisper, scared if you talk any louder you’ll scare him away.

“Talking? Not working? Who the fuck knows,” his hand leaves his hair and passes over his face.

“I’m not either, really.” You pick at your jeans, “But we’re trying, right? You come by more than I thought you would.”

“Really?”

You snort, “Dude, the first time I was surprised you even came in.” Gently, you add, “And you don’t have to be perfect at conversation to be friends with someone.” His eyes meet yours as you nudge his shoulder with your knee. “I’m weird, you’re weird, that’s okay.”

Carmen rolls his eyes good naturedly. His legs are bouncing, and you can almost see him chewing the word around before it finally leaves, “Friends?”

“Friends.” You affirm. Silence passes between you, until a growl comes from your stomach.

The man laughs, looking all the prettier for it, “You hungry?”

“Starving,” you groan.

He gets up from his seat, grabbing his denim jacket that’s hung over the chair on his left, “C’mon.”

It takes a moment, but it clicks. “Oh my god,” you gasp out, hopping off the counter. With a speed you only have during a lunch rush, you run to the back. You untie your apron, hang it up on a hook, and grab your tote bag. “Wallet, keys, phone…phone!”

“Out here!” Carmen yells. You grin, rushing back out to the front, bouncing on your heels. “You good?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You shake your keys with enthusiasm. He laughs as you both leave, and you turn to lock up. There’s excitement buzzing through you, like caffeine would if your brain weren’t wired a bit funky. A thought cuts through the haze, “Oh shit, I forgot to–”

“I got the trash.” The street lights reflect off his blue eyes.

Your heart twinges a little, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He gestures with his head, “Now let’s go before your stomach eats itself.”

“Hey Carm?!”

The man pokes his head into the office, one hand wrapped around the door, “Yeah, what?”

Natalie raises an eyebrow, “You busy?”

Carmy scoffs, “Yeah, Sugar, I’m busy.”

It’s lunch time. Marcus has pastries, Tina’s running prep. Syd is around…avoiding him. He tries not to think about it for too long. Richie is who knows where.

Fuck, don’t be an asshole, asshole.

Deflating, he asks, “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“I’m spending my hour of alone time figuring shit out here, while Pete watches the baby.” His sister sighs, glancing down at the paperwork on the desk, “I’m managing. Anyways, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

He wants to ask about the baby. His niece. But Natalie barrels over the topic to say, “Were you here late the other night?” He must have made a face because Natalie sighs, exasperated. “I know you stay later than everyone else, doing god knows what, but I got a notification on my phone the other night-“

“What notification?”

She rolls her eyes, “The alarm system, dummy. I get alerts.”

“No, yeah, I get that. But I turned it off.”

It could only be from the other night, when he brought you back to the restaurant. He’s not sure why he did — he almost had a panic attack in front of you while debating what to make. It's strange, how much an environment can affect someone. Nan's feels so comfortable to him now, like nothing can happen to him when he's in those four walls. Where was the last place he felt like that?

You don’t need to impress anyone, Carmen. It’s just me, you had said.

Simple words that cut through him like a knife. You asked for comfort food, so he made you grilled cheese with tomato soup. The little dance you did every time you took a bite relit a fire inside of him that had been burnt out by years of working in kitchens.

“I know. I’m asking because the alarm was set, and then you turned it off again a few hours later.” Natalie unlocks her phone, showing him her screen that has some app pulled up with timestamps on it. “Are you sleeping? Look, I know things aren’t great right now—" Natalie cuts herself off with another sigh.

“It’s fine. Things are fine.” At her pointed look, he holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m working on it, okay? Just…are you good? Do you need anything?”

“About 48 hours of interrupted sleep would be great.” Her gripe falls off into a laugh, which he returns.

Stepping into the room further, he pulls the door closer, just a slim crack of clean white light coming through. “I’ve been a shitty brother lately.”

“No…” Natalie snorts, “Okay yeah, a bit. I love you, though.”

He mumbles the words back, tapping out a rhythm on his thigh, “Maybe I could come by, sometime. See the baby.” It’s a blessing and curse how his chest aches when he sees the way her eyes light up.

“I’d love that, Bear.”

“Yo, delivery!” Marcus yells out, pulling the attention of the Berzatto siblings.

“The fuck?” There isn't supposed to be a delivery today.

Natalie gets out of her seat, “Oh thank god.” She ushers Carmy out of the office, pushing past him into the dining room. He follows after her, confused, only to stop in his tracks.

You’re here.

You stand next to Richie, talking animatedly, albeit shy. You’re wearing clothes he doesn’t regularly see you in, the worn denim jacket catching his eye in particular. It’s clear that you aren't working, yet you hold two cups from Nan’s in your hands, a few drink carriers littering a table.

“You’re literally my savior, thank you.” Natalie pulls you into a hug, and you look at Richie with wide eyes. Carmy has to hold back a snort at your expression.

“You should expect this reaction by now, kid.” Richie takes a sip from his drink when you gape at him in exaggerated outrage.

“Shut up, Richie,” Natalie is barely paying attention, saying the words more out of habit. Grabbing a cup from a drink holder, she says, “You’re coming home with me.”

Giggles bubble from your lips, and you go to cover them with the back of your arm. There’s a pull Carmy feels, instinctual, to urge your arm away from your face and hear your genuine laughter fill the room.

Your eyes meet his, finally noticing that he’s there. The smile you give him is earnest, a gentle hello without words. He forces his feet to move, closing the distance. Carmy blatantly ignores the looks both Richie and Natalie are making. You hold out the cup in your hand - the one you weren’t drinking from - and he takes it from you.

Condensation clings to the sides, his name hastily written on the side.

⋆⁺Carmy!⁺˚⋆

There’s a heart in place of the dot at the bottom of the exclamation point, little stars doodled around his name. His stomach flips.

“Iced?” He swirls the drink in hand, mixing it up.

You shrug, “Thought I’d try something different. It’s hot outside.”

“You off?” Bringing the straw to his lips, he hums at the taste. You’re watching him eagerly, head tilted to the side as you wait for his review. “This is nice.”

Squinting at him, you huff, “Not perfect, though.” You type something into your phone — most likely to add to your notebook later. “Had to run some more syrup by the shop. Saw Natalie’s car on the street so I texted her to see if she wanted something to drink. I have errands to run after this.”

“You a regular too now, Cousin?” Richie barks, and Carmy watches as you remember where you are. Who you’re with.

A protectiveness rises up in Carmen, hating the way you recoil into yourself. “Fuck off, Richie.” He looks over at you, “Hungry?”

“Dude, we got shit to do.”

“Richie!” Natalie hisses at the older man, shoving him back toward the kitchen. She calls back to you, “Thanks for the coffee! I promise I’ll come by when I feel more like a human again.”

The customer service clicks into place behind your eyes, “Take care of yourself! Hope the baby is doing well!” Once it's just the two of you, you sigh, knocking the heels of your boots together. “I should get going.”

Carmen nods, “Can I grab you a sandwich, first?”

“Grilled cheese?” You tease, stifling a smile.

He huffs, shaking his head, “Nah, but Ebra’s got window right now. I could throw something together real quick.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He glances down; you’re pressing your thumb into the middle of your hand. It's uncanny, the semblance of himself that is mirrored in you.

“I know.” He wants to, though. “Give me five minutes?”

A moment of hesitation, then, “Okay.”

“Cool.” And he’s off.

Chaos erupts the minute he’s back in the kitchen.

“Since when did the two of you become buddy-buddy?”

“Can we please get back to work? Richie, respectfully, what are you doing back here?” Syd is working on pasta, flour covering her work service.

“I got shoved outta my space, so here I am,” Richie waves his hands around.

The overlapping voices turn into white noise, and Carmy inhales sharply, “Fak!”

“Yes, chef!” Neil appears out of nowhere. Sometimes Carmen thinks there’s a series of underground passages that makes it so easy to get ahold of him. It’s not that crazy of a notion.

“Go and say hello to them, okay? I’m gonna throw together something, give it to them, and then I’ll be right back.” The last part is meant for everyone to hear, but is pointed more toward Richie. “Seriously, just leave it, alright?”

“I’m leaving it,” Richie snarks, but nudges Fak with his elbow. “Think there’s a drink out there with your name on it anyway. Snag me another one of those apple-donut-things too, eh?”

“Fritters!” Marcus calls out from his station.

Carmy sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s queasy; he’ll have to take some pepto later.

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

Let it rip, Bear.

Neil barrels into you, wrapping you in a hug. He talks your ear off for the next couple minutes; you smile when you need to, laugh when you remember.

The yells from the kitchen are playing on repeat in your ears.

They’re talking about you.

The urge to flee tickles the back of your throat. You thought it would be nice to stop by and bring Natalie a coffee, but then you had felt bad about not bringing anything for everyone else, which turned into you jumping behind the bar to make ten drinks. It’s not like you were going to make Morgan, the barista on shift, make them all.

You always had a hard time not working on your days off.

“You should absolutely come!”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You reply, still not fully checked back into your conversation with Neil.

He smiles, “Great! I’ll send you the info!”

Before you can ask what you actually agreed to, Carmy pushes back into the room, to-go container in hand. “Hey, uh, Fak, can you go take a look at the toilet for me?” You barely notice Neil leave, focusing more on how your chest releases as Carmen walks closer to you.

He hands you the container, and you murmur a soft, “Thank you.”

“I’ll walk you out, yeah?”

The thought is nice. Glancing behind him, you see Natalie and Richie watching through the window. “It’s okay, you really don’t have to.” You take a step back just as Carmy reaches out to you. You can’t run, they’d see you. Ask questions. They probably see a caged animal.

“Hey,” he whispers your name, “it’s just me.” He’s repeating the words you said to him the night you were here. You tear your eyes away from the kitchen, looking at him. “Lemme walk you out?”

With a nod, you let him guide you out the front door. The warm summer air washes over your skin, and you take in a deep breath. You count the lines in the sidewalk as you pass them, sipping at your iced latte. “It was cool of you to come by,” Carmy says. “And your jacket’s dope.”

He’s trying to make you feel better.

“Did you just say dope?” You peek over in his direction, catching his shrug. “You’re so old.”

“Fuck off,” he laughs, and your smile widens.

You make it to your car, a little thing that has a new problem every other week. It’s been with you for years, moved with you to five different states. More of a sentimental object, than a real mode of transportation. You mostly used CTA these days if you were able, but it was nice to have a car for when you’re running errands all around the city.

“Sorry if they bothered you,” he apologizes, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No, no, no,” you push out the words, throat tightening, arms hugging your middle. “I thought I was going to try to be a human today. May have jumped the gun on that one.” Fiddling with your keys, you continue, “It was nice to see you. Thought you might be a vampire or something, since I only ever see you at night.”

The joke causes Carmy to roll his eyes, “Is that considered a cryptid?”

You perk up at the word, “Oh, don’t get me started.”

He smiles big enough for his dimple to appear, “Oh, yeah?”

“Unless you want me to talk for hours on end. I’ll make a power-point presentation and everything.” You might already have one in the works, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You could - I mean, it wouldn’t bother me. If you did, you know?”

You blink a few times, frozen in shock. He looks shy, almost. Like the first time you met him, but there’s something between you now. A plant that will keep growing - might even bloom - if the two of you keep watering it. He keeps pecking away at your carefully crafted walls that let people see exactly how much you want them to.

Carmen Berzatto keeps seeing you. Whoever that is.

He coughs, scratching the side of his head. “I’ll see you later?”

“You know where I’ll be.”

“Yeah.”

You walk around to the driver’s side of your car, opening the door. You slide in, turning the key to let your car sputter to life. You roll the windows down, and music starts to blare from your speakers. “Kick ass tonight!” You yell the words as you pull away from the curb. You spare a glance in your rearview, watching Carmy wave before he starts walking back to his restaurant.

When you're parked outside your apartment, it hits you. You dig into your tote bag, pushing aside old receipts, chapstick tubes, and fidget toys. You cheer to yourself as you pull your notebook out, favorite pen hooked over the cover. Flipping to the back, you stare at the list of drinks you've had Carmy try.

You think you want to keep seeing him, too. Whoever that is.

You scribble at the bottom of the page, circling it twice.

Spiced Chai ~ HOT, xtra cinn

[little-buzz]

Late Night Treats

Here's another small drabble! If you have any ideas for a fic, feel free to ask me. Have a lovely day/night folks :]

Hazbin Hotel x Reader (platonic)

You heard the familiar sounds of clicking footsteps as you pulled out a tray of freshly baked cookies.

“Isn’t it a little too late to be baking?” asked Angel.

You hummed in response and placed it on the counter to cool down. You tugged the oven mitts off your hands. You leaned your back against the counter.

“You came back rather late," you replied.

Angel nodded and walked towards the cookies. You gently slapped his hands away from the tray. “You’re gonna burn yourself. Wait until the cookies cool off."

He frowned at you with heavy bags under his eyes. “But I’m hungry and I had a long ass shift. Val worked me overtime as punishment from the bar,” whined the spider.

You sighed in response. “One of these days I’m gonna jump him,” you warned. Angel snorted.

“Just by yourself?”

“Nah, I think Husk and Pentious would join me,” you conceded.

“It’s cute you think you can take down an Overlord.”

You shrugged. “Anything’s possible in this shithole we live in.”

You moved the cookies onto a plate and stacked them on top of each other. Angel quickly snatched one when you weren’t paying attention. He happily munched on his stolen treat as you nibbled on your own cookie.

You nudged the spider with your elbow. “You should go to sleep.” He looked at you quizzically.

“Says the one who was caught baking before the sun’s even out,” teased Angel.

“I’m sure Nuggets wants to see his dad,” you retorted.

He opened his mouth to argue, but no words left his lips. “I will if you explain why you’re up so damn late.” He crossed his arms.

You pressed your lips together before you threw out the baking sheet and moved the tray into the sink. You pulled out a plastic wrap and rolled it over the plate to keep the treats fresh.

You drew in a deep breath and turned to face Angel. “Just a rough night, I suppose. I needed a distraction, so cookies were a solution.”

“Well, you have a better way to cope than most of Hell’s sinners,” commented Angel. He stretched his arms. He placed his hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently. The spider offered you a tired smile.

“Alright, I’m going to bed.”

You waved him off as he headed upstairs. He paused on the first step and turned his head.

“Just make sure you sleep soon, alright?”

Your eyes softened at his words. “Thanks, Dad,” you joked.

Angel flipped you off with a grin before he disappeared to his room.

[sughuru]

you’re late

- gojo satoru x reader and young! fushiguro megumi

you forgot to pick up a certain someone from school.

genres/warnings: fluff, reader is gojo’s s/o, platonic relationship with megumi, kinda ooc, more of a thought that came to my mind, not proofread

notes: hopefully i’ll have time to write more as christmas break is finally here!! as always, english isnt my first language so ignore any errors, thank youu!

home | masterlist

—

You were impromptly called in by Yaga to take over a second grader’s mission in Kyoto and you had just finished. You checked the time on your phone and noticed it was almost 4 PM. As you were heading home you decided to stop by the supermarket to grab yourself a drink and perhaps a snack and some candies for Tsumiki and Megumi, although, they’d probably be eaten by your boyfriend anyway.

As you were walking home, you received a phone call from your loving boyfriend, Satoru. You answered the call, a small smile forming, “yes, darling?”

You could hear Satoru chuckle from the other end of the phone, “Hey, babe! Just returned from a mission, have you picked up Megumi?” he asks. You froze on the spot, almost dropping the groceries earlier. You gripped onto the phone tighter, your other hand tightly clutching on the plastic bags.

“…weren’t you supposed to pick Megumi up?” you asked, worry washed over you as you quickly sped walk home.

Noises from Satoru’s end of the line were loud, “huh? I thought you— damn it! Can’t you see I’m calling the love of my life?” he seems to be in the middle of a exorcism. You sighed and quickly ended the call.

“Okay okay, fuck, I forgot!” you quickly turned around and made your way to Megumi’s school. Your heart was filled with guilt, realizing that you really did forget to pick him up as you remembered that Satoru did remind you last week that he couldn’t pick the young boy up today.

Standing right outside the school gate, you entered to look for the tiny boy. You noticed a little boy with jet black hair by the swing, swinging himself back and forth. As you got closer, you could hear soft sniffles.

“Gumi?” you softly called out and the boy turned around, revealing it to be Megumi indeed. You quickly ran up to him, “I’m so so so sorry…I forgot— I accepted a mission and completely forgot Satoru couldn’t pick you up and Tsumiki’s at a sleepover.” you quickly hugged him tightly. Megumi didn’t say anything.

“I-it’s okay…” Megumi’s soft voice cracked which made your heart shatter a little more, you noticed there were dry tear stains on his cheek.

You picked him up, “as an apology, how about we get some ice cream, yeah?” you grinned at him.

Megumi nods, clearly still upset by the whole situation; but who could blame him?

At the ice cream store, you allowed him to get two scoops of his favorite flavors. The boy seemed to be in a better mood after eating.

“Megumi, I’m really sorry again, I didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long at school!” you quickly apologized again and the boy shook his head, “it’s okay…it was a mistake, right?”

You blinked, “of course it was!” That’s when you realized something.

Megumi and Tsumiki’s father abandoned them when they were really young, you had assumed that Megumi had no recollection of those memories but today’s situation says otherwise.

Realizing that Megumi thought that you and Satoru were abandoning him and his sister caused you to slightly tear up.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, I-“ you quickly wipe your tears but Megumi’s small hands beat you to it. He attempted to wipe it off with a tissue before throwing it away.

“It was an honest mistake, I-i understand, okay?” he muttered. For a seven year old, you couldn’t believe how mature he is for his age.

You nodded, “yeah, yeah.”

Megumi nods. The air was so thick, you were about to break the ice when Megumi looked up again, “Y/N.”

“Mhm?”

“…don’t tell Gojo, okay?” Megumi starts as he mixes the melted ice cream that is left in his cup, “you and…Gojo won’t ever leave me and Tsumiki, right?”

You pulled him into a hug, “of course not! I wouldn’t even dream of it!” Megumi gave you a small smile, “promise?”

“A promise.” you reassured the boy once more as you tightly hugged him more. It was evident that Megumi seemed to relax after you hugging him.

Later that evening, you explained the whole situation to Satoru. To make up for your mistake, you took Megumi and Satoru to his favorite dog cafe and let him stay as long as he pleases.

[klemen-tine]

You don’t have to write this, it’s just an idea I wanted to share. (:

Where the reader is someone who closely resembles a lost family member, say brother in their case, who died.

He has the same mannerisms, responds in the same snarky way. He may even physically resemble the lost teen, maybe he has the same coloured eyes, or wears the same boyish clothes. But not too similar, it’s just the way he acts. It’s so similar it’s almost uncanny.

And it’s like something snapped in the family. Like their missing piece was found. But this random kid (turning adult), probably works near where they frequently patrol, or goes to the same school as one of them as a senior, has a family. Admittedly a shitty one as what Gotham family isn’t, but still has one. He has a life, he isn’t their dead brother.

But they don’t care. He’s theirs. He’s being called their brothers name, taken to their manor, forced to live in the dead brothers room. Because the reader is their brother. Whether he likes it or not.

Thanks for reading. If you want to write it that would be awesome, but you’ve already done a request for me so I don’t have a problem if you don’t have any desire write it. Please respond if you think the idea is shitty haha

Puppy

(Yandere Batfam X Male! Reader Platonic)

Warning: Emotional abuse (?), slight suicidal ideation (its like a line)

@jaythes1mp

@Rosecentury 

@problematicreblogger

@Kurai-hono-blog 

When Tim had first seen those E/C eyes, staring into his own blue eyes and very much alive, he had raced back to the manor and checked if the grave had been defiled. He checked, and checked again if the body of their brother had been taken. When the dirt proved not to be disturbed, he raced back to the batcomputer and began researching. 

Y/N L/N, a high school dropout and a worker at one of the nail salons near a cafe the Wayne family frequents, and with two very alive parents had filled all the screens in the Batcave. His school records, no run in with the law, he was simply a kid that had to drop out of school to support his family. 

He is a kid that looks so unfairly like B/N in those clothes he always wore. The family had thought Tim was crazy, obsessing over this budding young adult that Tim had only run into once. 

Then Dick ran into him. Standing in line for his drink, he saw exactly what Tim saw. Intense E/C eyes, meeting his for only a second, before turning around back to his friends. The smile is only slightly different and the laugh an octave lower, but virtually the same. Dick was staring at his dead brother’s doppelganger. 

He had snapped a photo and raced back to home, dying to show the others. From there, two things had begun. The first was an all out investigation on the person known as Y/N, from Cass and Stephanie befriending him at the salon, and the brother’s befriending him outside of his work. Even Bruce began helping and ‘accidentally’ running into Y/N. The more they got to know Y/N, the more it began to soothe the wound that B/N had left when he passed. Physically, they were different besides the eyes. However, everything else was so unfairly like B/N, that if someone told Bruce that B/N was alive and just got plastic surgery and changed his name to Y/N, he would believe them. 

Y/N cracked the same jokes, folded his hands in the same way, and had the same look when listening. Like every word spoken was the gospel and the person speaking deserved to be heard. 

Y/N’s parents, from the deep dive Tim did, could be bribed. Their silence could be bought and compliance forced. Dad had a criminal history, and mom preferred to buy love from gigolos then shower her child in it. It was too easy. Almost insultingly so. 

Which is why when CPS called saying they got a complaint, and that Y/N was to be placed in the foster care of Bruce Wayne, the parents didn’t throw a fit or cry out for their son that was being placed in the back of a black car. 

Bruce could only offer his shoulder as Y/N had sobbed on the new bed, in a new room, in a new place. 

“Th-they’re not bad par-parents! Why would someone call?” Bruce rubbed Y/N’s back comfortingly, listening and saying nothing as Y/N continued to cry, “They-they didn’t even fight for me Bruce. They just watched.” It was a rough transition, but it was made. Y/N had kept to himself for the most part, until around the second week where he started to emerge more from his room and hang around the other kids. 

It would be two months in which Y/N began to notice some things. At first it started with shopping. 

“C’mon, Y/N! It’s your favorite store.” He stared up at the high end fashion stores and he knows that never in his life has he ever been in here. His family was too poor to buy anything outside of a thrift store. 

Nevertheless, he narrowed his eyes but played along. He watched the price tally up enough to give him a stroke, and he nearly passed out when Dick simply pulled out a card without batting an eyelash. 

“Y/N, it’s your favorite restaurant!” Y/N hates this type of food. 

“Y/N! I got it in your favorite color.” This is definitely not his favorite color. 

“Y/N, your favorite show is on.” 

“Y/N, your favorite-” 

“Y/N-”

“Y/N-” 

“Y/N-” 

“B/N-” 

“What did you just call me?” Y/N met Damian’s green eyes in bewilderment. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the younger boy, and he glanced around to the paused Tim. It was a genuine question, but the alarm bells began ringing louder than ever. 

Everything slowly falling into place as the actions began to fall into place. 

“It was a mix up in names.” Y/N narrowed his eyes, but let it slide. But then it happened again. And again. And again. It got the point that it was becoming a habit to respond. Y/N caught himself a few times, and he began to wonder if this was some new psychological trick. 

Like calling a puppy by a new name until it responds. Thing thing is, is that it isn’t even a new name. Its the name of their dead brother, B/N. 

Everyone knows how B/N Wayne died. It wasn’t a secret and it became the reason for one of the biggest Grants in Gotham. B/N Wayne had died tragically in a car accident. A driver under the influence had T-boned B/N’s car, causing it to flip and to steer into the side of the bridge. It’s only because its Gotham that the rails didn’t break, but the damage had already been done. B/N Wayne had been pronounced dead on the scene and the driver arrested. Now, the Wayne family funds one of the biggest grants in Gotham, possibly the East Coast, for families who have lost someone to a DUI accident. 

Bruce can remember staring into the cold and bloody face of his son. The skin was pale and looking like wax, and those E/C eyes were forever closed. He held those bruised cheeks within his hands and he cried for the child that will never be an adult. 

Then, a few years later, Y/N L/N shows up out of nowhere with the same eyes and personality. Smiling the same way, laughing the same way, and even having the same mannerisms. Bruce saw his son in Y/N, and wanted nothing more than to take him home. The rational part of Bruce knows that Y/N was not B/N, and that it would be cruel to everyone if he continued to act like it. 

B/N would have hated it. 

Yet, as Bruce continued to watch Y/N get in his old car, one that was bought from a seedy person but a necessity because Y/N’s house was nowhere near his work, Bruce couldn’t stop the lurch in his throat or the way his heart almost stopped. Pictures of the wreck, of his son’s cold and emotionless face, filled his mind the same way his parents’ dead bodies do. Forever haunting. 

When Y/N had been brought to the manor, Bruce made the rule clear: Y/N is to never drive. It’s an easy rule that everyone follows. Even Alfred, the only one who could see how wrong all of this was, abided by the rule. 

Slowly but surely, everything was falling into place. They were so entranced with the idea of B/N being back that they had momentarily forgotten something. Y/N knows he is not B/N.

++++

“Y/N do not get in that driver’s seat!” He slammed his foot on the petal, and the screeching of tires only momentarily hurt his ears. Y/N knows, he knows he is just encouraging them to chase. This had turned into a cat and mouse chase, and by taking off and driving away, Y/N was only encouraging them to follow. 

It's not like he could go anywhere. His credit and debit were all tied back to Bruce, he had no family (because those assholes are the reason he is in this situation), no friends willing to stick up to the Wayne family (not that he blames them), and he has only known Gotham. There is nowhere for him to go. 

He knows this. Y/N knows this like he knows himself. 

Yet, he needed to get away. Just for a bit. Just to have a moment to himself where he is Y/N, and not B/N. Not the dead child that has yet to come back to the Wayne family. Although, with how obsessive and possessive they were acting with Y/N, perhaps it is best that B/N does stay buried. 

Y/N did not go into Gotham. He instead went towards the mountain range. B/N had died in Gotham. He had died in a car, in the driver’s seat, in Gotham City. Y/N was mad, yes. He was irritated and fed-up. However, he wasn’t cruel. As much as he wanted to, and he played with the idea like it was his favorite toy, he couldn’t bring himself to cause that much pain to Bruce, to Alfred, or even to the siblings. Maybe if they were abusive assholes and just terrible people doing this to be terrible. However, with his time spent with them, Y/N knows they aren’t terrible people. How can terrible people love someone as much as they loved B/N… right?

As much as his conscience encouraged him to, begged for him to, Y/N just couldn’t do it. So, he drove to the mountains, tears racing down his cheeks as he literally drove away from his problems and from the life he was chained to have. There is nowhere he could go that they couldn’t find him. 

For fuck’s sake, he’s positive that worse comes to worse, they will call on Superman to help them locate him. Batman, for how proud he was, would do anything to locate his kids. That is something even Y/N knew. It was something that he had to come to terms with, and it felt that the whole Justice League was going to be his enemy if he ever decided to run away. 

Y/N hit the steering wheel in anger. Six months ago he would have never done that, not to this beautiful car that was worth more than his life, but the frustration of it all had basically erupted. At least, here in the privacy of the car, he could vent and let out all the months of frustration and heartbreak. 

Heartbreak because Y/N knows that they don’t love him for Y/N. They only love him as the replacement for B/N. All they see is B/N unless Y/N is doing something that B/N would never do. 

‘Y/N, come back.’ The text message caused him to floor it, his vision blurring for a few seconds and the sight of a deer in the middle of the godforsaken road had him slamming on the brakes and nearly losing control. The screeching of tires and burnt smell of rubber had Y/N pulling over and catching his breath. 

Tears continued to stream down his face and he shakily removed his hands from the steering  wheel. He was breathing heavily as he did so, and he could feel his chest aching as the realization of what had happened. Turning around, he took in the empty road behind him and counted down the seconds before one of them would show up. He contemplated running. Forget the car and just start running to who knows where because this fucking sucks! 

All of this! This whole entire situation is just so messed up and the worst part about it is that Y/N knows it could be worse. He’s not locked in a basement. He’s not chained up or drugged, or anything really. It’s just… its not him their affections are going towards, its the ghost of the child who is gone. 

Gritting his teeth, Y/N tried starting the car only for the ignition to get stuck and no amount of jiggling, cursing, begging, or crying moved it. 

“Fucking hell!” He hit the steering wheel again. He got out of the car, and in a fit of rage, he kicked the tire. Sort of like an animal trapped in a cage, he began pacing back and forth in front of the car, seething with rage. 

His phone dinged, and Y/N didn’t even bother to read the text. He threw the phone across the road into the thickets beside the road. Y/N let out a loud rage-filled scream, and then sat next to the car. His back resting against the waxed door and he waited patiently for the sound of an engine, which wasn’t too long. 

Looking out on the road, he could see the silhouette of a motorcycle, and he knows that it is Jason. Which is… odd. Him and Jason haven’t talked as much as he and the others have. Jason was sort of a sore subject in the house, and whenever he was over tensions were somewhat high. Not enough to stop Dick from being friendly, but enough for Y/N to escape whenever he was there.

“What do you want?” Y/N bit out at the large man as he hopped off the motorcycle and loomed in front of the crouched boy. When the helmet came off, Y/N was expecting to see an angry or even annoyed expression. One that would show Y/N just how irritated Jason was of having to drive out to the middle of nowhere to pick him up. 

He wasn’t expecting to see the frantic look in Jason’s eyes. The man grabbed Y/N;s bicep and yanked him up, making the teen yelp in shock. Frazzled E/C met angry green, “You have a lot of nerve doing that,” Jason growled out and Y/N scrunched his nose in irritation. 

“I have a lot of nerve? You all have a lot of nerve for treating me the way you do!” He pushed Jason’s chest, but the man’s grip only tightened, “How are we treatin’ ya, huh? Ya’ get great food, great clothes, ya’ neve have to worry about money. So just what are ya’ throwing a fit for?!” Y/N sometimes forgets that Jason is also an alley kid, but he would recognize that accent anywhere. 

“As if any of that is for me.” Jason stilled and Y/N glared up at him, “Ya’ ain’t doin’ it because ya’ care about me. You’re only doin’ it because ya’ see me as B/N!” Jason looked ready to shoot him, and some part of Y/N was hoping that he did. 

“We don’t-” 

“Don’t lie to me!” Y/N screeched, and hit Jason’s chest again. Jason releases his grip, making Y/N stumble for a bit, “I know ya’ all don’t see me. Ya’ll just see the parts of B/N that ya’ want to see. If I didn’t act like him, or look like him, ya’ would have never talked to me in the first place.” A truth that was painful to admit but it had to be said. Y/N stared at Jason with tears racing down his cheeks as the bitter and painful truth filled the air between them. 

“I know ya’ wouldn’t have befriended me, or whatever the hell this is. I know it, because there is nothing about me that strikes ya’ all besides the fact that my eyes and apparently my personality is similar to his.” Y/N took a deep breath, choking down sobs and wishing for his eyes to stop crying, “I know none of ya’ would have even glanced my way because what else do I have that any of ya’ could want?” 

What else is he other than a replacement? If Y/N had different eyes and a different sense of humor, he would have nothing that the Wayne family would want. He would just be another passerby on the street. Another stranger working in a nail salon who just so happens to be a regular at the coffee shop next door. 

Another soul that Gotham would have swallowed up within her dark secrets.

The simple truth is that Y/N is nothing but a placeholder. A cheap imitation. He is nothing but a puppy that parents give to their child after their other dog just died. A ‘feel better’ thing until the pain passes and then forgotten. 

That is all Y/N is. That is all he will ever be. If he were to die, they wouldn’t mourn ‘Y/N.’ They would mourn another fragment of B/N. 

Jason swallowed thickly, and a lot gentler than he did before now that anger has subsided and he has a crying teen in front of him, he placed his hand on Y/N’s shoulder. He expected the flinch, just not one that made him wince. 

“Y/N, I…” But what can he say to all the facts that are clearly presented before him? Jason didn’t know of Y/N outside of the manor. He never met Y/N at the coffee shop, or simply running into him on the streets.

He knew that the situation was fucked up. Hell, Jason himself had felt like a replacement for Robin, and it took a while for him to get over that he was not a replacement, just simply a new Robin. However, Y/N was a replacement for B/N. He was a bandaid for the family to heal. 

Jason himself is guilty for using him like a replacement, and he wonders if B/N would be pissed at all of them for doing so. He would put money on ‘yes.’ Y/N’s livid at them.

“I know that this situation is fucked, and this isn’t how you would want to live. But from alley kid to alley kid, it's a pretty good situation.” Y/N rolled his eyes, and glared at Jason, “Of course you can see the positive because you’re part of the problem!” 

Yeah, Jason saw that coming. It was a cheap excuse but he really didn’t have an answer. He stared down at the sobbing teen, and he could feel guilt crawling into his chest. He may have never asked for his brothers to do this, but he sure is being compliant with all of this. 

“Do you want out of there that badly?” Y/N looked up at Jason through the tears, and Jason could feel his heart strings tug. 

“What?” 

“Do you want out that badly? Do know if ya’ leave, ya’ can’t really have a normal life. They’ll track ya’ down wherever ya’ go.” Y/N knows this. He knows that wherever he goes he doomed to have followers. Nevertheless, the idea was too appealing. 

“Yes, please.” If he had looked closer he would have noticed how the smile Jason had became a bit sharper, and the green in his eyes more intense. 

“Okay, c’mon. I may not be able to get ya’ out of Gotham, but I can at least hide ya’ until they calm down.” From one cage to another, Y/N followed Jason to his bike and wrapped his arms around the other. 

Y/N doesn’t know, but Jason is a ball and chain all on his own. Once Y/N is in a safehouse, Jason will talk to the others to have them ‘adjust’ their attitudes. They may still see him as B/N, but they’ll hide it until they can finally see him as Y/N. Only then will the obsession grow. 

For now, Y/N needs a break to calm down. As do the bats. Its only temporary housing. Thats it. From one cage to another, and Y/N has gone willingly to both. 

[monstersflashlight]

idk if you want to make this a full on fic but I was just imagining trinket fairy reader with a dragon idk you wanna make it Platonic or not up to you, but I didn't imagine much only those two as pairings and how they might possibly bond

Sorry if it's really vague and not giving you much of an idea 😭

Love you and your writing ♥

Thank you! Means a lot. <3 Mmmmm I like your idea. I’m thinking of fairy and dragon with multiple forms, so in this piece they are in their more human-ish form, but the size difference is still big. Like he can be a basketball player kinda tall, and she can be like 30-40 cm shorter. Like BIG size difference, and lots of banter. I think It would be really fun to see them interact regarding his hoard. The idea of a trinket fairy taking all his things just to use them for gadgets and building new crazy stuff while driving him crazy, but not really bc he’s deeply in love with her… Peak storytelling. So yeah, that’s where my head is at with your idea, but make it spicy. Hope you like it!

Restaurant delight

Dragon x fairy fem!reader || teasing, banter, semi-public sex

You were having a dinner date, mandatory by his strict standards of what a relationship meant. You thought it was really funny how insistent he was about taking you out at least twice a month. He told you it was to keep the romance alive, and you didn’t mind, you liked to show off your big hunk of a dragon boyfriend.

“You need to stop taking things from my hoard,” he told you out of the blue as you were reaching for some garlic bread. You blinked slowly up at him, your wings twitching behind you.

“No.” You munched on some bread as he sputtered beside you.

“Wh-what? What do you mean no?” He looked confused and annoyed, a purple-ish blush creeping on his blue skin.

“What’s the point of having a dragon boyfriend if I can’t use your stuff to build cool gadgets?” Your logic was perfect. He had tons of stuff, you liked stuff. You took stuff, you build stuff. Easy, simple.

“I- You- No. They are my precious possessions,” he tried to argue.

“I took a plastic car.” You sent him an are you kidding me look. You didn’t want to be mean, but you also knew he really didn’t care that much about the things you took from his hoard. He had a ton of stuff, most of it he didn’t even know was there.

“It was shiny!” His exclamation made you want to giggle, but you referred, biting your tongue as you looked up at him. Dang, why was he so damn tall, you had to look up even when you were sitting down. Damn hot dragons and their incredible height.

“You didn’t know you had it until I took it,” you counterattacked.

“I- Please, stop.” His tone was sincere, but you also knew him too well. He wasn’t really trying to argue with you. Someone was horny and wanted some fun banter to get you riled up. He knew you always wanted harder and faster when he argued with you beforehand. It wasn’t the healthiest approach to your sex-life, but it was fun as fuck.

“Does it really bother you so much?” You asked, trying to sound sincere and innocent, not playing into his game. He loved to rile you up, but you loved to be a brat about it even more.

You knew it worked when he looked at you confused. “I- Yes?”

“Is that a question?” You kept munching on the bread, completely nonchalant about his alleged annoyance.

“No?” You bit down on the bread to keep from smiling at him. “Okay. Okay. I just… I like my hoard.” His statement was lost when his face got even more purple. He was embarrassed, and he looked so fucking adorable you wanted to coo at him.

“I like it, too. I’ll stop if it bothers you… Or we could make a deal.” Your flirty smile wasn’t lost on him, who looked at you with a glimmer in his eyes.

“What deal?” His big wings twitched behind him, a telltale sign that he was getting nervous, anticipation probably filling him.

You munched on some bread and waited patiently until he was drinking a bit of water before telling him: “You allow me to take stuff from your hoard and I suck your dick.” He choked on the water and started coughing loudly.

You patted his big back, “accidentally” touching the base of his wings, the area you knew perfectly well made him lose his mind when caressed. Your fingers lingered a bit there, as he regained control of his breathing. He shuddered at the contact.

He looked at you with fire in his eyes, you lowered your hand and rested it on his thigh. “I bet I could even do it here,” you murmured. You didn’t give him time to react before your hand was over his growing erection, making him squirm under your touch and flush heavily again. He was adorable.

“Wh-what?” He stuttered, his pulse picking up as you licked your lips looking straight at him. He shivered visibly and the hardness under your hand twitched.

“You like that? You like the idea of me sucking your dick in a restaurant’s bathroom, big guy?” You knew you hit a nerve when his wings fluttered, almost hitting the poor waitress as he walked pass your table. He apologized profusely as you squeezed his dick. He looked back at you angrily, but he didn’t stop you. His flushed skin was so bright you wanted to kiss him senseless, but you were already thinking in other stuff, spicier stuff.

You were about to open his fly to get some skin to skin contact when the waitress arrived with your food. Your hand never left his clothed dick, rubbing softly as you cheerfully talked to her. Your boyfriend was a stiff form next to you, his big hand resting over yours, but not stopping you.

You ate with one hand and left the other over his dick, absently stroking him as you kept the conversation flowing. “Act normal or people will realize,” you instructed. He looked around panicked. You giggled and kept telling him about your day, and what new gadget you created. When he whimpered, you decided it was time you made good on your deal. “Go to the bathroom,” you instructed. You took your hand away from his dick and smiled when he got up fast. There was a wet patch in his pants. He covered it with a hand, but not fast enough for your eyes. “I’ll see you there in a few.” You smirked at him as he almost ran to the bathroom.

You followed a few minutes later, slowly making your way to the restroom, checking there wasn’t anybody around before entering the man’s bathroom. He was pacing the tiny space when you opened the door. You pushed his big chest until he was sitting down on the toilet. You positioned yourself between his knees and fell to your kneed before him. He whimpered.

You took him out of his pants and slowly started mouthing him over his underwear, making a mess of it. Making a mess of him. His head was thrown back, and the precious shimmer of his scales was making you itch to touch him. You took him out of his underwear and went right for it. He wasn’t expecting it and let out a loud shriek when your tiny mouth tried to stretch around his tip. You both know there was no way his dick could fit inside your mouth, but you could be smart about it.

You played with his tip for a bit, but realizing you didn’t have that much time before someone thought you bailed without paying the check. You grabbed him with both hands and started a fast pace up and down, sucking the underside of his dick and making him whimper. He was looking at the ceiling when you asked: “So, do we have a deal?” He looked down at you, dick still against your lips, and groaned, his dick twitching. You stopped moving your hands when he didn’t answer.

“Yes. Yes. Whatever you want. Take whatever you like.” You smirked up at him as your wings fluttered behind you. Seeing him so gone was turning you on like crazy. You couldn’t wait to get him home and ride him.

You lowered your head and started a punishing pace with your hands as you latched into his tip and started licking and sucking and doing everything in your power to make him lose his mind. “Good boy,” you whispered against his flesh when he shuddered under you. He was so close you could feel the temperature around you rising, his dragon fire so close to the surface. “Come for me,” you ordered, your mouth a few millimeters away from your expecting mouth. He complied instantly. Shooting rope after rope of cum in your open mouth, some of it landing on your lips and making him groan softly.

You swallowed everything he gave you and rested your head against his thigh. “Oh fuck,” he muttered. You looked up in time to see a big black circle on the ceiling. He breathed fire and burned the fucking ceiling. You started laughing so hard that you fell on your ass in front of him. He looked so embarrassed and cute that you laughed harder. “Stop it,” he muttered, his face bright purple.

“Was it that good?” You teased.

He growled at you, without malice. “You know it was. You always are. Your tiny hands and your fucking mouth… Ugh, you drive me crazy.” He picked you up from the floor and devoured your mouth, groaning when he found his own taste there. “Go back out, I’ll wait for a bit.”

You sat down back to your table and smiled at the waitress, she definitely knew what you two did in the bathroom. You didn’t care. You would do it again in a heartbeat. There was nothing better than your boyfriend’s dick. He came back a bit later, still looking embarrassed as he asked for the check and urged you out the door before somebody discovered the big black burn in the bathroom’s ceiling. You laughed all the way out.

You were walking to your car when he told you: “You know I would have let you have all my hoard without any deals, right?” You smirked at him as you walked to the car, an extra movement to your hips that made him groan behind you.

“Yeah. I know. I just wanted to suck your dick.” His footsteps sounded loud against the pavement as he followed you, your wings fluttering again when he embraced you from behind, and turned you around, his hands landing on your ass and pulling you up so he could kiss you properly.

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

B-u-c-k-y? Bucky

Pairings: father!Bucky Barnes x child!reader, featuring Steve Rogers x child!reader and Tony Stark x child!reader (all platonic)

Imagine: The beginning of your relationship with your father and a glimpse at the progress

Warnings: angst, fluff, mention of Hydra, mention of child mistreatment, mention of experiments, reader describes as tiny to clarify more that hydra treated them bad, mention of medical equipment such as syringes, not proofread, if you find anything else please tell me

A/N so don’t know where this came from but I haven’t been able to write something in months so I’m just happy to be able to write again hopefully, don’t know if I like it or not but here we go anyway enjoy

Kinda short, dunno about 2000 words or so

might make more parts to this

Sparks lit up the dark corridor as Bucky and Steve walked down the stairs to be met with red lights flashing above each door as the alarms blasted their annoyingly high pitched sound that made your ears ring afterwards. One look at each other, they gave a nod and split up as they took one side each of the corridor.

The first room Bucky opened was filled with cabinets made of plastic and in each was different kinds of test tubes with what looked like some kind of poisonous liquid. Syringes were spread out over the desks neatly. Bucky felt chills run down his spine as he saw the hospital bed (or more like a table with white a quilt?) in the middle of the room. Handcuffs made to restrain a person laid neatly on the bed. Blood covering the sides of the bed and his mind went back to 1945, when Arnim Zola experimented on him. Which had coincidentally also been at a hydra base. His gun raised as he searched the room for any kind of lifeforms, when he found none he went on to the next door.

This continued for at least five more doors, some of them being lab rooms and some what looked like prison cells fortified with extra protection, meaning whoever had once been inside couldn’t have fled on their own.

When he opened the sixth door, Bucky scanned the room and had it not been for the red lights flashing once in a while and the lamp that flickered out a dull light he would've missed the tiny child in the room. Knees pressed to their chest. Hospital gown clinging to their skin from blood and cold sweat. The room had cold chills and even for Bucky who tolerated the cold more than others he could feel the freezing temperature in the room. He lowered his gun and put on the softest expression he could muster during these circumstances. Bucky glanced out the door and yelled out with a soft voice (to not startle the child) once for Steve, Bucky’s gaze not soon after fell back to the quivering child, that was you, who stared at him with wide scared eyes.

Bucky took a careful step towards you as he kneeled down slightly to put his gun onto the floor. He gave you what was supposed to look like a kind smile but looked more like a grimace as he thought about what you must have been through. As soon as you saw Bucky coming closer he watched as dark blue smoke covered your tiny frame and not a second after you were gone. Bucky stopped in his tracks and looked around the room for you. His eyes fell on the coroner farthest away from him. You had covered your ears with your hands and your eyes were shut. Your body was tense and knees still pressed to your chest as you quivered further into the corner. Bucky stayed in place not knowing entirely what to do. At that moment he saw Steve walk through the door sparing a glance towards you before back at Bucky his shield raised as they both heard people run their way. With a sigh from Bucky they both left you for the time being as Hydra soldiers started to fill the end of the corridor.

As soon as you heard the sound of shots (your hands not able to muffle out the sounds that came right outside of the room you resided in) die down you opened your eyes. You watched with curious eyes as Bucky (not that you knew his name) walked into the room once more. Like before he put his gun down and gave you a kind smile, this time his hand slowly reached out for you. He watched as you pressed yourself girder into the corner as you stared at his hand.

“hey, hey, okay, it’s okay” Bucky raised both his hands into the air to show he meant no harm as he cautiously took another step closer. “I won’t hurt you” Steve watched from the door opening as Bucky interacted with you. His gaze shifted to the metal objects (or what looked like toys for children) in the room that had started to slightly hover over the ground, including Bucky’s gun.

Bucky’s eyes glanced towards the hovering objects and was a tiny bit glad that you hadn’t done anything to his left arm. “What's your name?” he let out a sigh as you didn't answer knowing you probably wouldn't answer anything he asked you, hell he didn’t even know if you could understand him. His head tilted slightly as he took slow steps forward until he knelt in front of you. The metal objects (except his arm) are rising higher into the air.

“are you alright, you hurt?” He said clearly as he watched you start to pick at the side of your arm where blood was running down onto your hospital gown. He watched as you picked at multiple wounds, some of them he could clearly see were from syringes and his eyes saddened. Both Bucky and Steve watched as you pressed yourself deeper into the corner, as you tried to hide the many bruises that littered your body.

“can I-we help you, can you let us help you out of here?” Bucky gestured with his hand to him and Steve as he said the word us. Once more he didn’t get a verbal answer but instead he got you to move out of the corner slightly. Bucky held his hand out to you once more and watched as you carefully placed your tiny hand in his much bigger one. He couldn’t help but to give a soft smile once more towards you.

"Can you walk?” And yet again there was no answer. Bucky looked at you with an uncertain expression as you stood up. Your body swaying from side to side. He carefully and slowly to make sure you could stop him if you wanted to, took you into his arms. Making sure you wouldn’t fall he stood up straight and started to walk towards Steve who smiled slightly at Bucky as he watched you shut your eyes and bury your head into his chest. The metal objects all crashed to the ground with a loud clatter of noise in various directions.

This had all been four months ago and Bucky had finally started to get you to trust him enough for you to let him teach you how to talk, write and read. By now you also trusted the rest of the avengers enough so that you wouldn’t try to hide from all of them except Steve (excluding Bucky). Tony would most days let you sit beside him as he made new iron man suits and at some time along the way he’d let you help him by using your powers to bend a metal the way he wanted it to be. This would in the end result in you running up to Bucky proud of your accomplishments and for Bucky to ruffle your hair and tell you how proud he was. These interactions with Tony also led to you having more control over your powers at least one of them. You still tended to teleport yourself unintentionally to the other side of the room if you were scared.

Today it just so happened that Bucky held another lesson with you to help you speak. So far you were able to say yes and no and some other basic things such as “hungry” and “tired”. However even though you were starting to learn you still most of the time stuck to being nonverbal and only shook your head yes or no or shrugged your shoulders when you didn’t know.

At this moment Bucky had tried to teach you to say his name and so far your tries had been good but as he knew you were a slow learner which he realized the first time he started to teach you, he knew you wouldn't be getting his name right in a while. For Bucky however this was just a minor setback as he felt he had to teach you everything after all as it so happened he was your father.

As soon as you had gotten to the Avengers base they tried to find out if you had any family that had filed a missing child’s report and to know what your name was as you refused to speak (them not knowing you didn’t know how to). Bucky had to promise you that he would be there for every test they did to you to make sure you were as healthy as you could be at that moment for you to let them be near you with any medical devices. As it turned out Hydra had somehow created you from Bucky’s DNA meaning he was listed as the father in the old Htdra records they found at the Hydra base they had attacked. They had also found out that you were around 8-9 years old. There wasn’t a specific date listed anywhere on when your birthday was, only what year you were born. This had shocked all of the heroes as they by the way you looked were way younger. All the more information they gained only made Bucky feel more guilty. Even if he didn’t know about your existence he still felt guilty over the things you had suffered with Hydra. The fact that you looked so much younger made him feel more guilty as it showed how poorly they had taken care of you. If he just looked at you he would assume you were around 5-6 years old and maybe your powers helped your appearance look younger but it still made him feel guilty.

Bucky had to shake himself out of his thoughts as he watched and heard you try to pronounce his name correctly.

“B-b-a-b-a-ck-y” You fumbled over the words as you hugged the Iron Man plushie Tony had given you a few days prior after he saw you holding a Captain America plushie. Ever since you hadn’t let go of the new plushie, much to Bucky’s demise and Tony’s ego.

Your father couldn’t help but to smile at you, it had been a long time since he smiled as much as when you came into his life and he hoped that maybe you could heal the part in himself that he found to be broken.

“not A” he pointed to the letter a in the book you held in front of you “sweetheart, it’s b-u-cky” Bucky pointed at each letter as he said them. He had originally wanted to teach you to call him dad first but as you had no idea what that word meant yet and only ever heard people call him bucky that's what he went with to for now to not make you confused.

“ba-cku?

Bucky chuckled slightly and remade his actions as before. He pointed to each letter as he said them. “b-u-c-k-y, bucky”

“B-u-c-k-y?”

“That's right sweetie, B-u-c-k-y” Steve spoke from beside you as he took the other seat next to you as he brought you a plate with different types of sliced fruit as they were still trying to see what you liked to eat.

You took fruit from the plate and tasted it. Munching on it you smiled slightly up at Bucky. “Bu-cky, Bucky? Bucky”

Both super soldiers let out encouraging smiles as you repeated Bucky’s name as if it was a chant. Bucky’s smile held more pride than the others who had heard you as he ruffled your hair. He smiled more brightly as he watched you stand up and ruffle his own hair mimicking his actions. With that he let out a small laugh and kissed the top of your head as you sat down once more, ready for Bucky to teach you other words.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi I want a platonic Catnap x fem!reader here. Simply put, it's up to the hour of joy, and the like, reader is Catnap's caretaker, she takes care of him, and makes sure that everything is normal with him, the reader is antisocial, cold, and a very big workaholic who can go without sleep for a very long time, for this reason she was made Catnap's caretaker, she is only friends with Catnap, Dogday, and his caretaker (she). So, the bosses decided to hold an event where smiling critters and their caretakers would spend time together, let's say, strengthening the team, so, as we already know, reader is antisocial, just like Catnap, so they, like true introverts, avoid such things at all costs, but this is useless, since they are found by Dogday and his caretaker, they are both brought (dragged) to the event site, so our antisocial and introverted couple is there, they are all there undergoing tests, trust tests, team problem solving, and all sorts of other things nonsense (and also, reader and Catnap work well as a team), then everyone comes to what nicknames caretakers and smiling critters call each other, the turn comes to reader and Catnap, reader answers first, she is very embarrassed, because up to this point she never called Catnap by this nickname, only in her mind, finally, she reluctantly and embarrassedly says that she calls him ... "Lave" (short for lavender), she calls him that because she likes lavender and its smell is calming, and puts her to sleep, we skip the minute where reader was teased about this (more precisely, caretaker of Dogday, what a good friend), now it’s Catnap’s turn, although reader doesn’t show it, but she has a reserved interest, because she is also interested in what the nickname is Catnap came up with a name for her, to be honest, she expected Catnap not to respond, or that he didn't come up with a nickname for her, but ... no one expected what he said

***Messiah***

... And that's it, nothing more, everyone fell silent after such a bomb from Catnap, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changed to ... creepy, quickly ending the event, everyone went either to work or home, reader does not ask Catnap why he gave her this is a nickname, because she knows that he will not answer, or he answers, but gives a very strange and vague answer, that reader does not understand this, reader experiences many different feelings about this, from bewilderment to flattery, because she did not know, that Catnap sees her like this, so it's nice, although still terribly strange ... The reason why Catnap calls out to reader is something you can come up with yourself

Bonus, I had to come up with an alternative, and now Catnap is calling reader little owl, and sorry that it turned out so long, thanks in advance for writing 💜

"I know you're bored, but we're almost done with these tests. And then we can go back to our peace and quiet."

"..hmm.."

"Yeah..I get it, too." Looking up at the lanky purple feline, you just huffed. Your behind was growing numb from sitting in the cheap plastic chair for hours, but you unfortunately had to stay here.

Your fellow caretakers--plus the Bigger Body Smiling Critters--were all gathered in a circle, chatting away with their assigned "buddy".

Today, the higher-ups of Playcare decided to create this little "friendship event" for all of you to participate in. It was just to evaluate how well you were connecting with the Critters via a series of "tests", with Bubba and his caretaker being the ones to lead you into each activity.

Teamwork was the primary theme......and involved a bunch of crap that felt like a waste of your time.

You've been Catnap's handler since say one, and you two always saw eye-to-eye, constantly working together and ensuring he was in the best possible condition while caring for the children. Neither of you believed you had to be evaluated to prove that.

That being said..you're 99% certain this little "event" was created specifically to torment you.

Neither of you were the most sociable, and you didn't see anything wrong with that. Although in recent months you've gotten some notations for your "recent behavior"--such as not smiling at a child who somehow got into your office during your lunch and Catnap making them cry when he tried escorting them out.

They couldn't exactly write-up toys, so anything "bad" he did ended up being put on your record.

It was stupid.

Working at Playtime Co. wasn't the same as working at Disney, so you weren't going to keep a smile glued to your face and act happy-go-lucky 24/7.

Too bad Catnap didn't have to worry about that.

The only reason you agreed to partake in the event was not only the threat of a pay cut...but mainly because you were friends with Dogday's handler, and you liked him, too, so you did it for them.

What neither you nor Catnap liked, however, was being put in between Kickin and Hoppy--who would yap to each other nonstop, tempting him more and more to use some red smoke.

Or when Crafty accidentally spilled pain on Catnap's canvas during the mini-art contest between the Critters.

Or when Picky became frightened after he said pork was his favorite food (and the first thing he's said since the event began), staring directly at her. You got marked down a point simply for "encouraging" him to use dark humor in a "lighthearted" activity.

Well..damned if you do, damned if you don't.

Whether you get Catnap to speak or not..it gets you in trouble.

"Alright, friends! Our last activity is called the "Nickname Game"." Bubba looked at the clipboard in his hands, before passing it to his handler. "This one's real simple so nobody can win or lose. All you have to do is go around and share what you'd call each other instead of your usual names! For instance, my caretaker's nickname is "Einstein"...and he calls me..."

"Smarty-Pants." The doctor beside him answered dryly.

"Smarty-Pants! See? It's real easy!" He grinned, before his eyes went to you and Catnap. "Alright you two. You're up first!"

'God why--' Your face burned a little as the others stared at you, patiently waiting.

Honest to god..you've never called Catnap anything else aside from his own name. But you didn't wanna get another point marked down for saying nothing..

"I uh..."

""I uhhh"? That doesn't sound like a good nickname!" Kickin laughed, only to be shushed by his caretaker, pouting. "Whaaaat? I'm only kiddin'-"

"Does it count if I never said the nickname out loud?"

"I...suppose it can count." Bubba spoke up, now intrigued as he leaned in closer (as did his fellow Critters). "Go on."

As embarrassed as you felt right now, you eventually found the courage to speak up.

"In my mind, I sometimes call Catnap "Lave"." You looked to the feline, seeing his ears perk up in interest, his gaze landing on yours. "The reason is probably a no-brainer but..it's short for lavender, and I've always loved that scent. It's calm and helps me sleep when I'm off work. Even when I get stressed out here with paperwork and br...restless children, Catnap helps me stay calm. So...I'll make it my mission to call him that more often."

There was a pause..

Before a small chorus of "awhs" rang from the other Critters...and you felt like shrinking back into your seat and disappearing, wishing you kept your mouth shut.

Yet at the same time..it felt nice to actually participate and share something wholesome with your coworkers.

Catnap didn't respond to your words, although you could tell he looked quite flattered by the nickname you've wanted to give him. The corners of his mouth seemed to stretch a little, and it didn't go unnoticed by Dogday.

"Awh shucks, that's a really nice nickname, [y/n]." He chuckled.

"Yeah..and I think that's the most I've ever seen 'em smile." His handler remarked--to which you coughed into your fist on instinct to hide it, your face burning.

"That is." Bubba spoke up, before sending Catnap a pointed look. "It's your turn now. Do you have a nickname for [y/n], Catnap?"

"............"

As expected, he didn't speak, bearing such a distant look to his eyes...and though he was off in another world.

While it didn't seem like it, you were actually eager to discover whether he had a nickname for you. Maybe he, too, thought of one and never verbally shared it with his fellow toys.

Yet the longer he stayed quiet, the more you could see the other Critters fidget and talk amongst themselves. Your coworkers were looking a bit annoyed, too, with Bubba's handler getting ready to give you another point off just for this.

Right as their pen hit their paper, however-

"Messiah."

The room became dead silent.

Suddenly every noise ceased to exist, from Hoppy's thumping foot or Kickin's laughter.

It became a heavy and uncomfortable silence.

You, the Critters, and the other caretakers could only stare at Catnap in bewilderment and confusion. There were no lights in his eyes, which concerned you quite a lot..as that was a sign of great stress.

"That's....an interesting one, Catnap." Bubba finally spoke after what felt like an eternity. "Care to share why?"

".........."

"Bubba..what does "messiah" mean?" Bobby raised her hand, looking completely clueless. "I-I don't think he's willing to elaborate."

"It's a...um...." The elephant sounded rather unsure of himself, which stunned his fellow toys considering he was the "know-it-all" of the group. "..sorry, that's...actually a new word to me-"

"And one you shouldn't be concerned about." His handler interrupted, which was very much unlike them. From the tone of their voice, and from the way they looked at you..they were very much irate and definitely had questions for you once this was over.

You wish you had some reasoning for why Catnap would call you that of all things, but...you simply didn't.

He shouldn't even know a word like that exists.

Before you could say anything to defend him or yourself, they decided to shift their focus back on the rest of the group, sighing heavily.

"Let's finish this activity so we can be done. Dogday, you're up."

............

"....another stupid write up."

"Hm..?"

"I'm in trouble because you nicknamed me "Messiah"." Putting the slip down on your desk, you shook your head and paced around the place, eventually looking to Catnap. He was lazily playing with a yarnball atop a tunnel. "They're accusing me of "feeding inappropriate ideals" to you and think I'm forcing my religion on you...which is completely false!"

"........."

"I don't know where you learned that word, Lave, but it wasn't from me. I know that for sure." You sat down, rubbing your hands over your face and wondering how you're gonna fight these blatant accusations.

Of course, when you began working with the Smiling Critters, there were a few rules put into place to ensure they stayed true to their innocent and childlike cartoon personalities--among them being to never mention anything regarding religion, wars, crimes, or death whatsoever.

Nothing that could make them question their own existence and morals, nor the world beyond the factory.

You kept all of those things outside of your work, so you couldn't even begin to think how Catnap could possibly know what a "messiah" was.

Did he know the implications that held?

Or did he hear it in passing and take a liking to it without knowing its actual definition?

Regardless, you were impressed he was able to come up with a nickname for you at all during the event today. So you were planning to just let it go, knowing you couldn't make him tell you why he called you that.

You two may be close, but he's still ever-reserved..so you doubt he'd even answer you even if you asked-

"The Prototype will save us..but until then, He sends you to guide me. Watch over me in my mission."

You blinked, putting your hands down and turning around in to face the large feline, who now lost interest in the ball and stared at you directly. His claws dug into the polyester fabric of the play tunnel, the lights in his eyes gone once again.

'There he goes, talking about this "prototype" thing again..' You thought.

It was noted that he would frequently mention this unknown entity during past interviews with the scientists, and you were to discourage him from doing so, although you decided to keep quiet and let him speak.

Here he was, actually talking without being prompted to do so..and they wanted you to shut him up?

No way.

"He is God..but what is God without His prophet? His messiah?" He purred, tail hanging off the tunnel as he tilted his head, outstretching a hand to you. "You are the one. The only one.."

"I'm the only one who...?" You cautiously asked, waiting for him to elaborate. "I feel like there's more to that statement."

Yet all you received was silence.

"Lave?"

".....you remind me of owls, too..night owls. So...I may call you "Little Owl" around the others.."

You blinked, his change of tune being most surprising.

"Ah..sure. I do like that nickname, too, thank you." You nodded, watching him go back to playing with the yarnball like nothing happened.

Like he didn't just say something overly religious and cryptic.

"For the record...maybe they would've felt better hearing "Little Owl" at the event today."

He responded with a humming noise, and you knew that meant "I'm done talking today". So you went back to finishing up your paperwork, knowing you'll have to send him to Home Sweet Home soon as it was getting late.

Although you didn't outwardly show it, you weren't sure whether to be concerned or flattered by him equating you to a savior and speaking about you and the Prototype in the same sentence.

No matter how or where he learned that word, it's clear that he thought of you when he first discovered the meaning of it...so he held it dear to him.

You'll let this slide and allow him to call you that in private.

Only because it made him happy.

[a-hazbin-reader]

Hey! Love your stuff! But i kinda notice you mainly do Vox and Al so...

Can you do like....... A husker x child!reader headcanons ? (Platonic ofc)

The old bartender finds a kid completely without adult supervision at a bar (their just drawing ) , goes up to them to find thier guardian only to realise they dont have any?

Husker wants to get rid of them but they ultimately grow on him and they become closer. The kid is sarcastic and they shit on alastor together....

And they draw a mocking pic of the radio demon and stick it onto the fridge of the hotel for everyone to see?

There is a LOT of Vox and Alastor in my inbox but I'm a sucker for Husk so-

Husk X Reader Headcanons

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: Unaccompanied minor in places a baby shouldn't be

Description: 👆⬆️

Sometimes Husk just needs a break from being a bartender, wanting to be the one being served

He wants to relax in his free time and just have a moment to himself

Actually starts to let loose when he suddenly feels a tiny hand tugging on his wing

Husk is so confused when he looks down to see a child staring up at him, clutching dirty paper and crayons

"Can you help me up, mister..? The chairs are too high..."

Sets you up on the barstool next to him, still too stunned to really ask why you're even here

He looks at the bartender as they pass him his drink, gesturing to you with a wtf expression

They just shrug as they give you a plastic cup with water in it, obviously used to having you around by that point

Finally snaps out of it once the bartender pushes a plate of food towards you

Don't look at him like that it's perfectly natural to be freaked out by a kid at a bar

You're just kicking your legs and drawing, munching on the food given to you

You shouldn't be in a rowdy place like this, who's supposed to be watching you??

"So uh...does your mommy take you here often?"

"No, does yours?"

Motherfucker you're already spilling your water on yourself-here let him help you-how are you so bad at this???

"Your papa then?"

"No, I don't have any parents but- *insert bartender's name* -is really nice and let's me hang out in here.."

You're breaking his fucking heart, kid

"Oh well...don't mind me then."

"Uh yeah, I won't."

Sarcastic for such a little squirt, aren't you?

His drink suddenly tastes sour and he's no longer in the mood for another, watching you unhappily

Starts seeing you every time he visits the bar, always keeping to yourself and oblivious to the things going on around you

At first, he's annoyed whenever he sees you, reluctantly keeping an eye on you and making sure nobody bothers you

Even if they do, you're so witty for your age that you leave just about everyone gobsmacked by the shit that comes out of your mouth

The whole point of coming where was to relax and instead he's worrying about some kid

Then that annoyance slips away to reluctant fondness as you worm your way into his old heart

He starts to look forward to seeing you and starts bringing little things for you like clothes, toys, coloring books

Listens to you babble about what you do with your days and how you've managed to survive on your own

Not the bartender developing a crush on him for it

Husk doesn't even realize how attached he is until one day he visits the bar and you aren't there, the bartender distracted and upset

You haven't shown up in couple of days

He immediately goes looking for you, frequenting all the places he's heard you mention

Is asking anyone if they've seen you, getting more frantic with each negative answer

Finally finds someone who knows where you are, leading Husk to where you've been hiding out

And now he knows why you haven't shown up

Husk gathers up your shaking, feverish body, hating the fact that you're so sick

"H-Husk..?"

You can barely even open your eyes, he can feel your little body burning up in his arms

"Hey kid..."

He's not leaving you here

He takes you back to the hotel so that you can be properly taken care of, leaning on the others when he doesn't know what to do

Charlie and Vaggie are the biggest helps tbh, they're actually good at caring for people

Alastor is entirely unhelpful except for the fact that he can provide medicine and other supplies

"My my~ Look at what the cat dragged in! Aha!"

"Shut up...you weird strawberry man.."

Even when you're sick you're still a riot

He tries to keep Niffty tf away from you but you think she's funny

He and Angel are your makeshift heaters, so fuzzy and warm that you want to cuddle them all the time

Angel complains the entire time though so you don't really prefer him

Mostly you want Husk with you and he sticks with you until you're feeling better

By then you're well acquainted with everyone at the hotel and they're all quite attached to you

Everyone agrees that you live there now and you get your own room even though you have a habit of sleeping in Husk's

It's okay, Husk looks forward to waking up to your adorable face and doesn't even mind when you kick him in your sleep

You play with Niffty and Angel, learn from Charlie and Vaggie, bother Alastor with your less than flattering renditions of him

You don't like that Alastor is so rude to Husk so you've taken to being a little thorn in his side

Kids pick up on their parent's emotions what can I say

Which Alastor absolutely hates but hides it behind a tight smile, he's surprisingly patient with you

And if those drawings of Alastor on the fridge suddenly go missing?? Husk can always ask you to make him another one

Husk finds himself thinking of you as his kid more and more often, surprised that you ever got this close to his heart

And you yourself slip up a few times and call him dad/papa/daddy/father/pops

You're always a little embarrassed by the chorus of awwws that follow afterwards but you don't really mind it anymore

And neither does he if he's being honest

He struggles sometimes to be a proper caregiver for you but you always seem to just love him more for his flaws

You're too fucking cute

You're definitely his kid

And don't worry Husk lets the bartender know you're safe and brings you to visit them after their shifts

I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS I LOVE DADDY!HUSK SO I HOPE YOU LIKE IT TOO

[impishjesters]

Rambley x Homeless!Reader (SFW)

relationship: can be read platonically or romantically notes: the reader has no gender or pronouns used. Rambley might comes off sounding a little protective/yandere, it's entirely up to you if he's just being protective or a yandere. A/N: There's not much to work with for Rambley content but I had this little idea and it's been eating away at me so I tried to write a bit of it. I might work on the main story itself just for myself for shits and giggles.

Rambley always hates it when you leave the park. He knows you don’t have a choice, the park no longer has food and anything that had been left behind has long since molded. So he knows there’s nothing he can do about it, you’re only human after all.

It’s been forty minutes since you left, forty long minutes since Rambley saw you off at the furthest screen he could reach by the entrance. He prattled on about strangers, avoiding sketchy-looking areas, the whole spiel as if you hadn’t been surviving on your own all these years before finally taking up a home in the abandoned Indigo Park.

A whole hour and a half passed before Rambley picked up movement at the entrance, quickly flicking to life on the screen, face mushed against the screen. He saw you carrying an armful of plastic shopping bags—and most importantly you looked unharmed.

You spot Rambley awaiting you on the screen and approach him excitedly, showing the bags of your latest outing. “I scored some good stuff!”Rambley pressed his face further into the screen, his face a mix of worry and relief all in one. “You’ve been gone for one hour and thirty-two minutes!” He leaned away from the screen but kept his hands on the edges of the screen. If he could shake the monitor you know he would. “I’ve been worried sick! What if something happened to you? I-I can’t help you if that happens!”

Although it’s not uncommon for Rambley to have a little freak out every time you leave Indigo Park, this was a little more than his usual freakout. A brief look of worry washes over you as you step away and further into the park, missing Rambley’s expression as he frantically follows to a different screen as you head straight for one of the screens more at your height in the shop.

“Hey, Rambley it’s okay! I’m okay.” You set the bags on the ground and give him a little spin around, showing you were completely unharmed. “I’m sorry for taking longer than my usual hour.”

Rambley’s eyes flick around the screen as he examines you, his ears pressed flat before he determines you don’t look more messy than normal. “Okay…” His mood completely shifts, ears perk, and eyes curious. “So whatcha get?!” Surely you got good stuff if it took an extra thirty-two minutes and forty-three seconds to get.”

Turning away from him you roll your eyes and lift the bags up, setting them on the nearby counter. “The first aid kits here still have bandages but any ointments are expired, so I managed to get some antibacterial ointment and a little bottle of iodine.”

The raccoon oo’s and ah’s each item you pull out, chin resting on his little paws with fascination and curiosity.

“The lady was also really nice and gave me a discount for the toiletries.” You placed down two bottles, one of shampoo and another of conditioner, as well as two cheaply wrapped bars of soap. It’d probably feel like shit on your skin but the scent was okay and it beat staying covered in filth all the time.

Beggers can’t be choosers after all.

His nose twitched slightly when he saw the soap bars, he couldn’t smell it but he just had an inkling those little bars held a cheap perfume smell to them. Stinky.

You show him a cheap little sewing kit with some thread to fix up your old clothes, a bottle of pain meds and two cheap washcloths. Rambley eyes another bag behind you that seemed far more full than this bag had been.

“What about that bag?” He pokes the screen and you look at the bag he’s pointing at before abandoning the items in your hand with excitement.

“Ah!” The bag rips slightly as you pull it across the countertop and open it up. “The lady also gave me a really good deal for these cans, they’re all dented but otherwise completely fine.”

You hold one of the dented cans up for him to see and his face scrunched up. “Is that safe to eat still? It’s not damaged?”

“It’s not opened and that’s all I care about.” You shrug your shoulder and start taking the cans out of the bag, rattling off the various canned goodies.

Rambley’s face shifts through each food you list off, some with curiosity and some with disgust. Thank god he can’t eat, some of those sound awful! When you’re finished showing him the cans he exhales and watches you from his usual position on screen.

“Well, I’m glad you got a lucky haul!” He shrinks a little on-screen and fidgets with his hands. “So… this means you won’t have to leave the park for a few days at least, yeah?”

After you finish checking over that you weren’t missing anything you hum in thought. “I should be good for a little bit yeah, I still have the rest of my stuff.” You glance over at the pile of things Rambley kept safe for you when you were gone, making sure it was still there.

Of course, it was, nobody but you had been dumb enough to break into the park and wander around. In hindsight you’re very grateful that you did, it led you to Rambley, which led to having a consistent place to sleep, a home.

“Oh goodie!” Rambley danced on the screen before flicking to one of the much larger screens. “How about you put that all away and tell me about all the things you saw? Don’t leave any details out!”You tuck your new belongings with your old ones and make yourself comfortable at the counter, not sparing a detail as you recount your trip into the city.