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buzzcutlip · 2 months ago

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Cracks and Gaps - The Cat Shrine (part III) Carmen Berzatto x Fem!Reader Explicit 8539 words

A/N: This chapter is a bit longer than I expected but it's also packed with stuff that needs to be said and done. Plus! I believe this part offers all we've been waiting for iykwim

THE CAT SHRINE "Carmen!" You snap your fingers next to his ear.

"Yeah," he replies, blue eyes melting into yours like ice daggers.

"You're not concentrating," you accuse, huffing.

"I am!"

"You're so not."

Shaking your head, you put your phone down, tired of trying to show the chef the progress The Bear has made in its social media presence. You don’t think it’s important for him to know all the details, but he should be fully informed.

"You haven’t even downloaded Instagram, have you?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

"Uhm…" Carmen shifts uncomfortably, guilt written all over his face.

"I knew it!" you exclaim. Although you want to be strict, wanting him to know you take your work seriously and wanting him to acknowledge it, you start laughing when you see the long face he’s pulling. He looks like a dog caught peeing on the rug.

"What’re you laughing at?" Carmen asks sullenly.

You shake your head. "Nothin'," but you still snicker. You like teasing him a little.

When you calm down, you take a sip of your soda from the funky Superdawg cup and take a deep breath. The parking lot offers no shade, and there’s sweat gathering at your hairline. You watch the two mascots—Laurie and Flaurie, sausages perched on the roof of the drive-in. Thousands of people must have done the exact same thing since this spot opened in the '50s.

"Do you think Nat really wants me at Pete’s birthday?" you ask, your face serious. From Carmen's expression, you can tell he appreciates the change.

"I think so," he affirms. "She wouldn’t have asked otherwise."

"She’s too nice. She knows I would find out about it eventually," you muse aloud. "Like, that would be awkward… I hope it’s not only 'cause of the interview and stuff."

Carmen lights a cigarette, shaking his head. "Bullshit." He always waits to smoke until no one around is eating.

You shrug, faking nonchalance, but the idea of Natalie inviting you out of obligation makes you feel sick to your stomach. You don’t need favors or fawning over.

Carmen blows the blue smoke in the opposite direction from you. "She likes you."

The car hood is hot under your butt, and your cutoff denim shorts aren’t doing much to protect your skin. You shimmy uncomfortably, hissing.

Next to you, Carmen looks down at you, eyebrows raised questioningly.

"It’s hot," you whine, trying to tug the shorts lower.

"You okay?" Carmen checks.

"I’m fine," you sigh. "I’m glad to be baking my ass on metal, actually," you say, picking the last bits of caramelized onion from the paper tray. "I watched The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo yesterday. Listened to way too much of Ethel Cain…"

Carmen keeps looking at you, clearly not following.

"'s dark stuff," you sigh again, being pretty dramatic just for effect. You definitely don’t feel too affected by Nordic crime books or songs about escaping a cult and cannibalism. It takes you somewhere else, mentally. Not a bad place, necessarily.

"Uhm—hopefully the hot dog’s cheered you up?" Carmen asks, popping a fry into his mouth, then wiping his hand with the back of his tattooed fingers. They’re long and graceful, the nail beds clean with minimal hangnails. You want to lick them clean.

You give him a smile. A genuine one. "Yep."

Not just the hot dog.

Carmen’s brows furrow a bit as he glances at you, a small smile playing on his lips despite himself. "You’re hard to read sometimes. Like—hm—I don’t know if you’re joking or not."

"You say that like it’s a bad thing," you tease, giving him a playful nudge. His hand steadies itself on the hood as the sun glints off it, the Chicago heat thick in the air around you.

"It’s not," Carmen says, his tone softer now. "It feels more genuine. Authentic. It’s kinda... nice."

You raise an eyebrow, amused by his awkward sincerity. "Kinda?"

Carmen chuckles, shaking his head as if embarrassed by the admission. "Fine. It’s nice."

You smirk, pleased with yourself for drawing him out of his usual seriousness.

"Nat wouldn’t have invited you if she didn’t want you there, you know," Carmen says, circling back to your earlier worry.

"I guess," you reply, still a bit skeptical. "Just don’t wanna be somewhere I don’t really belong."

Carmen’s gaze hardens a little, a quiet determination settling in his voice. "You do belong."

You meet his eyes, surprised at the firmness in his words. For all his hesitation and self-doubt, Carmen has a way of saying the simplest things with absolute certainty when he means it.

"Okay," you reply quietly.

—

In the late afternoon, you arrive at Pete and Natalie’s house. The sunlight’s casting a warm glow over the tree-lined streets, and you’re grateful that the heat’s eased off and you aren’t sweaty and gross before you get in. The house is beautifully maintained, with a fresh coat of paint, a well-kept yard, and soft music spilling out through the open windows. Pete’s job clearly allows them a bit of comfort. For the first time since you were here, all those months ago, you notice these little details.

As you make your way up the walkway, you notice a stroller parked just inside the entryway, along with a soft baby blanket draped over the arm of a chair near the door—the quiet reminders of Natalie and Pete’s new life as parents. You hear soft baby coos over the sound of conversation, which makes you smile. Yet, it’s a reminder that maybe you yourself should start thinking of this kind of life. A life with a serious partner you might start a family with. Someone you will spend the rest of your life with. Probably. Hopefully.

Inside, the party is subdued yet lively. Guests drift through the kitchen and living room, chatting and laughing. You greet a few familiar faces, but you’re not really that close with most of them. The place is clean and pretty, the opposite of the mess you experienced in May. You quickly spit out your gum into a tissue you find in your pocket.

Richie finds you first, thrusting a glass of mimosa in your hand. You didn’t plan on drinking, but this could help with your nerves. You’re not great in new settings, around people you don’t know very well. Luckily, you’re pretty good with kids and you really like Natalie, so when she spots you, you spend about 30 minutes chatting while a few people gather around you. She gives you the baby to hold, and the little boy dozes off in your arms. When Nat takes him back to put him down in the crib, you excuse yourself from Jimmy’s wife and another older lady to go find water and maybe something small to eat.

The kitchen is quiet compared to the rest of the house, and you’re not surprised to find Carmen there, cutting carrots into precise sticks, his knife moving with calm precision. He doesn’t notice you at first, so you have a moment to take in his wide, muscled back under a thin sweater. It’s a very, very nice back that you would really, really like to see without any clothes.

You shake your head, pulling yourself together.

You clear your throat. “Hi.”

The sound startles him, and he jumps, the knife slipping from his fingers onto the cutting board with a loud clatter. “Fuck!” he mutters, spinning around to see you.

“Sorry!” you hurry to apologize, walking all the way to him. “Did you cut yourself?”

“No, it’s fine,” Carmen reassures you, taking a deep breath. “Hey,” he greets you back, a bit calmer now. He seems a bit surprised to see you.

“So, I find you in the kitchen, of all places,” you say with a smile, leaning on the wall. Under your arm is a thick paper envelope with the fresh magazine issue inside.

“I thought maybe you wouldn’t come.” His expression shifts to something warm, less guarded than what you’re used to. You almost blush at his words, unsure of what to take away from them.

Your fingers tighten around the envelope for a moment before you gather the courage to hand it over to him. “I wanted to show you this today.”

Carmen’s gaze drops to the big envelope, and he takes it from you. When he opens it, he sees himself on the cover, and there’s a pause. The main title reads, "Chef Carmen: The Story That Matters."

You feel a slight flutter of nerves. “I wanted to give you a chance to see it before anyone else. We just received a couple of copies yesterday. It’s not on newsstands for another week.”

Carmen nods but stays quiet, just flipping through the pages. You made sure Nat went over the final images with him, confirming he’s okay with the selection, and with the cover that features him wearing a pair of smart black pants and a white t-shirt revealing his tattoos. You see him skimming the article, glancing at the photos of himself in the kitchen and on the set. There are a couple with the whole team at The Bear.

“It’s… weird,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Seeing myself like this.”

You tilt your head curiously. “You’ve been in magazines. Even on the cover.”

“Yeah—just—” he glances back at the pages. “Not with a project that’s as personal as The Bear.”

You nod, understanding. It is revealing. While transcribing the interview and writing the whole feature, you finally had a chance to see through the cracks and gaps and get a glimpse of the real Carmen. The one hiding behind his unapproachable facade.

Carmen shakes his head, chuckling softly. “It’s… a lot. But it’s good,” he admits, his voice soft. He looks back at you, and you can feel the gratitude there, unspoken but genuine. “Thank you. You put a lot of work into this.”

You give a small shrug, trying to keep your own emotions in check.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I doubted you.” The reference to the bumpy start stings, and you almost grimace. “It’s… it’s everything you’ve done to get us here. I don’t think anyone’s ever believed in me like that.”

You want to say something silly, like, “Oh, I knew you’d be the top chef in Copenhagen already,” but you can’t get the words out. You don’t frequent The Bear as often as you used to. After the incident with Carmen, and even after all the apologies, you agreed they would find a proper social media manager, and you would help occasionally. But now you’ve started meeting Carmen outside the kitchen much more, venturing further into the restaurant world with a top chef as your guide. He’s changed, you think. Maybe both of you have.

Finally, Carmen breaks the silence, letting out a small, almost bashful laugh. “Guess I should, uh, keep this somewhere safe?”

You smile, relieved to feel the tension ease, and nod. “Yeah, please. Maybe show it to them when you’re back at work tomorrow? I’m sure Sydney and the others would get a kick out of seeing it.”

You watch Carmen tuck the magazine back into the envelope, and you feel the moment slipping past you. You clear your throat, gathering yourself before you speak.

“Actually, there’s… this event next week,” you start, fidgeting slightly. “It’s a charity cocktail—kind of formal, for a nonprofit that supports community kitchens. I wanted to ask if you’d come with me.”

Carmen raises an eyebrow, caught between curiosity and amusement. “Me?”

“Yeah,” you say with a shrug that you hope comes off casual. “I mean, you’re on the cover of Taste now, and people will hear about it soon. Thought it’d be nice to… y’know, show you off a little.”

He looks down, an almost shy grin tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t think I was the ‘show-off’ type.”

“Oh, you totally are,” you reply, grinning. “Besides, Nat mentioned you might need to make an appearance or two—good publicity for The Bear and all that.”

Carmen nods, as if he’s already half-resigned. “She has been dropping hints,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was going to ask if you’d come with me to it, too. Got the invite a few weeks back.”

��Oh,” you say, raising your eyebrows. “I thought we’re friends now. You should've asked sooner,” and you hope the word “friends” sounds as casual as you intended.

“Okay—then yes,” Carmen says, and there’s a challenge in his voice, his face serious. It’s clear he doesn’t want to seem like someone afraid of public events and social gatherings in general. You do know the truth, which makes you chuckle.

“How fancy is the event, you think?” he checks, sounding slightly discouraged now.

“Not that fancy, don’t worry.” You grin, leaning a bit closer. “Nothing that calls for a tux, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh, I can wear a tux,” he juts out his chin, and it’s such a sudden change to his normal demeanor that you feel a bit weak in the knees for a second. Confidence suits him, as you know. And not only while he’s being the Chef.

“No doubt,” you agree with a smile, taking a tray with homemade hummus and carrot sticks from him.

“Oh—I’ve been meaning to ask you,” you remember as you’re both exiting the kitchen with more prepared food in your hands. “How did you survive the photo shoot and interview without any smoke breaks?”

He looks up at you and stays quiet for a moment.

“Nicotine patches. I had to put on three at the same time.”

And you laugh.

—

Carmen picks you up on Thursday at six-thirty. You chew through half a packet of gum while getting ready. A mix of feelings is swirling around in your stomach—excitement, nervousness, and an utter disbelief that you’re so worked up about a professional evening with Carmen.

When he buzzes the intercom, you jump, giving yourself an unnecessary scare, then roll your eyes at yourself. Grabbing a small black purse, you lock up behind yourself and make your way down the four flights of stairs. The air outside is slightly cool from the late afternoon rain, the fresh smell hitting your nose and making you nostalgic.

“Oh my god,” your heart drops to your stomach the second you look at Carmen, who is blankly staring with the most perplexed expression you’ve ever seen. “Have I messed up? Is this inappropriate?” Trying to read more from Carmen’s face, you lift your trembling hands to your mouth. What have you done? Why do you always have to have your way?

You look down at your draped top, barely covering your shoulders, and wide, pleated pants you opted for instead of a more traditional skirt or dress. You’re also wearing high-heeled Mary Janes that bring you to the same height level as Carmen. You hoped he’d get the fashion statement.

“I’m—I can change,” you stammer, turning halfway back to the door, already thinking about what you could swap this for.

As Carmen starts saying, “No, no,” you say, “It said semi-formal.” Carmen reaches for your hand and gently pulls it from your mouth. You’re still confused and freaking out, not understanding anything.

“I just meant—I just wanted to say,” Carmen swallows, “that you look lovely.”

“Oh god,” you sigh heavily with relief, and you both laugh��Carmen a bit awkwardly, and you breathlessly. “Screw you.” You’re pretty sure you feel two stones lighter suddenly.

It’s only later, when you’re both sitting in the back of a taxi taking you to The Field Museum, that you realize what Carmen said. He said you looked pretty. Oh.

—

“This is going to be so awkward,” Carmen says, his eyes never leaving the big, open door with a stream of nicely dressed people heading in through it. The large, Neoclassical building is imposing with its massive Corinthian columns, giving off an air of true greatness.

“Oh, c’mon,” you whine. “I’m actually really excited to see it from the inside without the usual visitors. It’s gonna be fine. You can even get drunk, if you want to.”

“Uh—I don’t really drink,” Carmen says as he finishes off his cigarette, stubbing the end and flicking the butt into the ashtray.

“Maybe tonight you will.” You smile sweetly. Of course, you would never even think of pressuring Carmen—or anyone— into drinking alcohol, but the faded image of the two of you in his houseboat in Copenhagen pops into your head.

“We can just check out Ancient Egypt and go,” you suggest as you watch Carmen fidget nervously from the corner of your eye.

He gives you a tight smile, one that doesn't reach his eyes, then offers you his arm, and together you go in.

The East Atrium is lit up and arranged with round tables and smaller, tall bar tables. It’s a modern addition to the museum designed to blend with the historic architecture. Through the large windows facing the lake, you can see the sun starting to set. There are fresh flowers—hydrangeas, peonies, and tuberose—in the vases decorating the space, and you can’t help but touch the soft petals as you stand by one of the arrangements.

Carmen’s gaze shifts around the room. His arm tenses slightly under your hand, and you can tell he's trying to look relaxed, even as his fingers keep flexing in his pocket. “See? It’s nice in here, right?” you whisper, trying to catch his eye, hoping for a little reassurance that he’s not hating every second. So far, you’ve only met two people you know—clients who regularly advertise in Taste and who did recognize Carmen, pulling him into an intense conversation about cooking stoves. When he spoke to the clients, you noticed his voice was polite but guarded, the rhythm clipped, almost rehearsed. Different from when he talks to you.

Carmen gives a reluctant nod. “Yeah, it’s…not bad.” He scans the room again, and you feel for him, guessing he’s probably trying to uncover any other potential danger. Then he notices the flowers you’ve gravitated toward, and his mouth quirks up—just a bit. “You really like flowers, huh?” he says quietly, watching you brush your fingers over the soft petals.

You grin and shrug. The scent of tuberose mingles with the warmth of the evening, and you get the best idea. “Want to skip the mingling and find the mummies?” you offer, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “I mean, what’s a night at the Field Museum without a little ancient history?”

Carmen lets out a soft chuckle, a rare sound that feels like a victory. “Yeah,” he says, sounding almost relieved. “Let’s do that.” As you make your way across the Atrium, Carmen keeps close by your side, your arms brushing. When he opens the door for you, his hand hovers just above the small of your back, the warmth radiating from his palm seeping into your spine through your clothes. The murmured “thanks” is the most you can do without embarrassing yourself.

—

“My dad is obsessed with mummies. He used to take me here at least twice a year when I was a kid,” you say as you aim your phone camera to capture the sleeping artifact. “I’ve never been here after the closing hours though.”

You send a quick, funny message to the chat group you have with your parents, and put the phone back into your purse. Although the narrow corridors and the displays are the same as they were years ago, it never gets old to you.

“I don’t think my parents took me places,” Carmen says next to you, studying the plaque next to the mummy and its decorated sarcophagus. “To cultural institutes and shit. We spent a lot of time at home, or running around our block.”

You feel a pang in your chest for little-boy Carmy. On the other hand, you know that you can’t judge other people’s experiences and the quality of their childhoods and lives based on yours.

“You’re here now. And you can ask anything. I can pretend to be a qualified guide,” you half-joke.

Carmen chuckles softly, though his gaze stays fixed on the ancient figure in its case. His eyes trace over the faded bandages, the meticulous, centuries-old work of preservation.

“It’s just an illusion. Most of the exhibits we see in museums have been stolen from the original countries as part of colonialism or wars,” you sigh, studying the gold jewelry in a display behind the thick glass. “It shouldn’t be like that.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of messed up.”

Next, you check the Book of the Dead and the reconstruction of the ancient marketplace. Here and there, you bump into other people drifting in from the atrium, taking the opportunity to experience the free exhibition too.

“I think I need a drink after the cat shrine,” Carmen points out once you make it back to the lively space of the Atrium. The glass ceiling reveals that the evening’s turned into night. “It was kinda creepy,” he says with a certain hint of unease. You chuckle, patting him lightly on the back. “I think that’s the point. Cats are guardians of the afterlife, gazing into your soul. Maybe they picked you out for judgment, Carmen.” He shudders slightly, pulling a face. “I’d rather stick to cooking for the living.”

More people approach you as you wait at the bar—old colleagues of Carmen from Ever, hospitality people you’ve interviewed, and Regina, the head of sales from Taste.

Carmen holds the two drinks as you find a table off to the side, both of you grateful for the secluded spot. He slides your drink over to you. The tired look on his face proves he’s not too thrilled about the impromptu reunion with old colleagues.

“Looks like you’ve got a fan club,” you point out. The way Regina was looking at Carmen sticks with you—the way she talked to him. Like she wanted to eat him alive. Or fuck him.

Carmen rolls his eyes. “Didn’t realize it’d be a whole industry meetup. Thought I was off-duty tonight.”

“You couldn't have possibly thought that.”

You mirror Carmen and take a sip of the drink to find out what he’s ordered for you.

“That’s—that’s licorice vodka,” you stammer out.

Carmen nods. “Yeah, can you believe they have it here?” A small, secretive smile plays around his eyes. “Did I hit the target, Copenhagen?” Your eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by the unexpected nostalgia that hits you as you recognize the drink. It’s simple, unassuming, yet oddly perfect—a reminder of countless late nights and blurry memories from Denmark. You can’t believe he’s remembered. “Yeah,” you say, recovering. “You hit the target.”

Instead of pondering more about the reasons, or the lack of them, behind Carmen’s gesture, you look down at your feet, hissing. “Do your feet hurt?”

“Fuck yes. Like hell!” You can’t help but grimace as you shift your weight, feeling the pinch of your shoes.

Carmen watches you shuffle uncomfortably, and he hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “You, uh…you sure you’re okay?” he asks.

“It’s fine. I was expecting this.”

You take a sip of your drink again, thinking of what you want to say next.

“Do you do all this because of what happened?” you ask, looking at the floor behind his shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“The—what happened in the restaurant office,” you add in a small voice, hating to talk about the incident.

Carmen reaches out to lightly touch your hand on the table. “I should've never behaved that way. I was a real dick.”

“That mean yes or no?” you inquire, your heart picking up speed. You don’t know why you’re getting nervous again. “You’ve been super nice to me. And a—a good, uhm, friend.” You say the word ‘friend’ so tentatively it’s almost inaudible in the room. Maybe you hope Carmen’s gonna overhear. It’s such a fragile label of what’s between you.

Carmen actually huffs out a small laugh before he says: “Be nice to nice,” and you lift your head up to glance at him, finding him smiling, so you smile back. You just smile back and don’t say anything else. This is all you need.

—

The next morning, the sun feels harsher than it should. It streams through the blinds, making everything feel just a little too bright, a little too real after last night. You had expected to wake up tired, but what you didn’t expect was the quiet echo of Carmen’s smile and his casual, soft touches lingering in your chest and beneath your skin. Fuck, you think self-deprecatingly. You try to shake it off as you rush to work, but it’s impossible.

During the morning briefing, you keep checking your phone for new messages, but there are none from Carmen. It’s hard not to hope for a follow-up after last night. As innocent and friendly as the whole evening had been, ignoring your growing affection for the chef is impossible now.

When your phone buzzes during your lunch break, a quick glance at the screen tells you it’s Natalie, texting in her usual efficient bursts: Nat: New special menu to be launched tomorrow. Can you stop by The Bear tonight? Nat: Just to check how we wanna communicate it on SoMe. Nothing major! You barely finish reading before the familiar flutter sets in. Nothing major for Natalie usually means chaos in the making. But it’s not her message that has you rushing home after work—it’s the possibility of seeing Carmen again. By the time you’ve touched up your makeup and slipped into a new outfit, your nerves are buzzing. Carmen’s commented on your dresses a couple of times, so you feel like that’s definitely the right choice. You put together a dark blue button-through summer dress with tiny white dots, and a pair of cowboy boots, giving you a look that’s casually cool.

As you get ready, you wonder how Carmen feels about seeing you again so soon after last night. You wonder if he thought about the drink he picked for you, or the way he laughed—so much that his dimples, which you had almost forgotten about, kept appearing by his mouth.

The service is in full swing when you arrive, so you automatically use the back door, heading to the office as quickly as possible through the intensity of the kitchen. You don’t even try to catch a glimpse of blond hair or that familiar white chef’s jacket, even though you terribly want to.

“Looks like it’s already a madhouse,” you say, sliding into the chair next to Natalie in the office. “When isn’t it?” Nat quips, finally looking up with a wry smile. She nods toward the kitchen. “Carmy’s back there somewhere. I told him you’d swing by.” Your stomach does a little flip at the mention of his name, but you nod casually, as if it doesn’t affect you at all. “Okay, let’s see this menu then.”

Natalie starts explaining the dishes, her words efficient but animated, as she describes the seasonal ingredients and the thought behind the pairings. It’s funny how similar the siblings are. Maybe not at first glance, but as you’ve gotten to know them better, you notice the resemblance more often than not.

As if summoned by your thoughts, the door swings open, and Carmen steps out. His brows are furrowed in that intense, focused way that somehow makes him look even more attractive. Your breath catches, and you quickly look down at the paper in front of you, pretending to study the menu notes.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low and quiet, as he approaches the table. He nods at Natalie, then turns his attention to you. His gaze flickers briefly to your dress. “Hi,” you reply, trying not to sound too breathless. “Thanks for coming,” Carmen says, his eyes lingering on you for just a moment longer than necessary before shifting back to Natalie. “So, what’s the plan?”

As Natalie launches into the logistics, you can’t help but steal glances at Carmen. He’s close enough that you catch the faint scent of his cologne, and when his fingers brush yours as he passes a page of notes, it feels electric, sending a spark up your arm. If you’d struggled to concentrate earlier, it’s almost impossible now. And you’re the one who’s supposed to share ideas and opinions.

The whole thing stretches into a menu tasting in the only calmer spot in the kitchen—you taking photos just in case, brainstorming about the introduction wording. Then Carmen and Natalie get into a fight—unsurprisingly—before making up. It’s like being on a swing with them, and the whole environment of the kitchen—hot, fast, frantic—makes it even more intense.

—

Absolutely on purpose, you finish fiddling with Instagram just before 11:30 p.m. in the empty kitchen, getting up when you hear what must be Carmen taking out his civvies from his locker. You take your bomber jacket and a handbag, walking over there.

“Hi,” you say, and Carmen’s head pops up through the hole of his crewneck sweater.

“Hey,” he says back. “You’re still here?”

You nod. “Thank you again for yesterday. For taking me with you.”

Carmen looks up at you from where he’s changing his Birkenstocks for white sneakers. “Didn’t you take me with you?” he jokes.

“It was nice either way,” you say, putting on your jacket and hoping Carmen doesn’t hear the hope in your voice. It’s hard to keep the softness you feel for him out of your words.

Carmen hoists his backpack onto his shoulder. “You leaving too?”

“Yep.”

He holds the back door for you, touching your lower back lightly the way he had yesterday. You bite your lip at the slightest contact, resisting the urge to reach back and touch his hand.

You lean against the wall by the door as Carmen locks up and then lights up a cigarette. You haven’t talked much for the rest of the dinner service, but he seems more relaxed, smiles more often. It has you smiling too.

“What?” he checks when he looks over at you.

You shake your head but the smile persists. “Nothin’... I’m glad it all has worked out,” you sigh with relief and content.

Carm blows the smoke above his head, watching it disappear. “Thanks to you,” he says seriously.

“No. No, we talked about this yesterday. I don’t need any credit in this,” you’re shaking your head in resolution, a frown forming on your face. “I don’t want it.”

He steps closer, crowding you against the wall, intention flashing in his eyes, and you can't breathe. Can't imagine that the timid chef would want - that he would want you in a way you've been wanting him.

Carmen gets into your space, and your hands land on his waist, finding purchase on the waistband of his jeans. “Carmy,” you breath out quietly, head tilted down. You don't know what's going to happen but the close proximity to the chef makes you breathless. His hands cradle your face. You only feel the gentle touch, scared to face Carmen fully. But you can smell him again - his deodorant and hair product. Cigarettes.

He surprises you though. “Why do you always smell like cinnamon?” he mumbles, his breath tickling the baby hair around your ear, his mouth an inch from it.

“It's the - the gum,” you answer, trying to stay calm despite your heart beating like crazy. Only now you do realize you called him Carmy. It felt right.

You're not sure for how much longer you can stay still, but Carmen seems to have no trouble dragging the situation out. You are restless, though, you just have to do something.

So you tilt your face up and you lean up on your tiptoes to kiss him. Just to press your lips against Carmy’s, nothing else. It’s actually more of an act to break the tension than an actual kiss. You feel absolutely stupid a mere second after you are back on your feet fully, Carmen right in front of you, unmoving.

“Am I reading this all wrong?” you ask when the chef remains silent, avoiding eye contact with you.

He shakes his curly head, putting space between you two—unwittingly or not, you don’t want to think about it now—and runs a palm over his face, scratching the back of his neck. His body leaning away, the stupid crewneck pulling tight across his shoulders with the stretch of Carmen’s muscles.

“You’re not,” he says, and you almost feel giddy. You bite your lip to stop smiling. Carmen looks pained and worried, and you don’t want to be smiling.

“Then what’s going on?” you ask, reaching for his wrist and stroking the protruding bones there lightly.

“Just—I just feel like I’m going to fuck everything up.”

Slowly, you sway back closer to him, putting all your own nervousness behind. You lay one of your palms against his chest, hoping it could comfort him, the other one back on his waist.

“You know you are hot—” you say quietly, not quite looking him in the eye, “—attractive.” You correct yourself quickly.

“What?” Carmen says, and you can feel him relax a tiny bit, twisting his hand so it’s holding the one that had been on his wrist.

“You work out. You must know that you look good.” You slide your palm a little lower to the abs hiding under his cotton shirt.

It sounds awfully a lot like flirting, but you don’t even know how to flirt. You are honestly so bad at it. And this is only the truth, anyway.

Carmy’s definitely wearing a blush that’s matching yours. It’s spreading down his neck and lower, where you want to put your mouth.

“I just run. Sometimes. After work,” Carmen stammers a little incoherently, probably feeling like you are expecting an answer, or an explanation. And you know he runs every day, and does push-ups and God knows what. It’s a known fact in the kitchen. That’s how he puts space between “work” and “life.” A divider. Even just so small. You understand it. The need to know where your job ends and you start. You can also imagine that it’s something very difficult to distinguish for Carmen.

“I hate running,” you note, your honest mind is too quick to think twice. “But still—I would really like to kiss you. Properly.”

A car wheezes around you, way past the speed limit, and Carmen stares after it. He takes a visible, deep breath, looking into the street on the right, where the street lamps turn into small yellow, glowing balls. It bares the side of his neck to you, thick and vulnerable, and you can’t not look. A shiver runs through you from the evening chill, or maybe something else, too.

“Can we—would you maybe like to come over to my place?” you ask, probably the bravest you’ve ever been.

Carmen clearly thinks about the situation for a couple of seconds before he says: “Ok. Let’s go.”

You blink once, say nothing, and head toward the L with him by your side.

—

On the staircase, Carmen takes your hand into his, long fingers sliding along the top of your hand. While you're unlocking the door, you wonder if Mikaela left potato peels and apricot stones and orange rinds on the kitchen counter in her so-called open compost.

“Come in,” you say over your shoulder. The old, brass hanger is by the main door and you hang your jacket there, then take Carmen's to put away there too. “Would you like something to drink?” you ask politely, stalling on purpose. “We have - “ in all honesty, you are almost scared to open the fridge but Carmen is still standing where you left him, by the door. “We have tonic - “ without his friend gin that disappeared on Saturday - “ - or tap water.”

Carmen's wearing his gray crewneck and in combination with his mussed hair, he looks incredibly soft. “'m fine,” he says, looking at you with his big eyes, looking nervous but somewhat calm. Like he doesn't want to run away, which instantly comes to you as a huge relief.

You go to switch on the two small lamps placed around the room that you call the living room, which is obviously part kitchen and dining room too. The light makes everything even softer, a gentle sort of atmosphere. Suddenly it's easy to find each other in the middle of the room, right where the sofa with patchwork cushions are. WIthout a moment of hesitation, you kinda meet in the middle, and finally, you get to taste Carmen Berzatto.

It takes a few slow, lingering kisses to get bolder, and to your surprise, it's Carmen who gently slips his tongue into your mouth first, and you briefly wonder if he can taste the cinnamon from your gum now. Slowly reaching up to put your hand on the nape of Carmy's neck, you feel the delicate golden chain lying against his vertebra. How long will it take to see him wearing only that?

You push him softly in the general direction of the sofa. It's old and too soft, but you love the faded gray upholstery and how homey the simple piece of furniture is. Soon Carmen´s sitting on it with you on his lap. You’re wearing the dark blue cotton dress and your boots that are digging in the sofa by Carmen's thighs.

Carmen´s not shy, kissing you fully, tilting your head to his liking, stroking your bare arms up and down. You’re breathless on top of him, fingers running through the dark blond curls, giving back as much as receiving. The two of you kiss for long minutes, and you love it. You love how he tastes and how he's touching you, but it's clear that he's holding back. Or maybe it’s just you who is completely overwhelmed with want and need.

“Are you - are you a virgin?” you dare to ask into his ear, kissing his neck, hiding your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“What? No,” Carmen says, letting out a breathless laugh.

“It's fine if you are.”

“No,” he repeats.

“Ok.”

You lean back and take his hand to intertwine your fingers together. You can feel how warm your face is, the rushing of your heart.

“I just - just haven’t done anything. In a while,” Carmen says while looking at you, and he´s blushing, the apples of his cheeks darker than seconds ago.

“Me neither,” you reply in the same hushed voice caused by the dark room around you.

“You can touch me,” you invite him, bringing your joint hands to the apex of your thighs where the hem of your dress has rucked up. There´s nothing to be seen, the dress still covering your underwear, and you remember incidentally, that you are wearing a very plain pair of white knickers. Before he has a chance to react to your bold move, you duck down to kiss him, and everything drowns out the buzz of paralyzing excitement.

First you feel the soft touch of the back of his knuckles to press against your throbbing groin, too light to do anything than tease you. Carmen doesn't stop kissing you but it's slower, less measured, while he concentrates on the movement of his hand between your legs. He presses a bit harder, starts rubbing you in circles.

You shudder out a breath, tensing, fingers digging into his shoulders. “‘s nice,” you mutter into his mouth, face hot, too worried that if you don't encourage him, he might stop.

Carmen shortly hums in response and doesn’t stop. He presses open mouthed kisses against the side of your neck and down to the low neckline of your dress. You bite down on your lower lip, overwhelmed. It’s still hard to believe that you have Carmen here on your sofa, between your legs, his unruly curls between your fingers. Only now do you start to realize that you feel so much for him. That this is not just messing around. That you could actually fall in love with him. That you have been falling for him.

With a touch to his sharp jaw, you bring his face back to yours to kiss him deeply again, taking his free hand in yours to guide him, this time up to your breast. You squeeze the heavy weight of it and moan against the side of Carmy’s neck.

“I like it when it hurts a bit,” you whisper bashfully, too aware of how your hair sticks to your sweaty nape, the baby hairs by your ears probably curling with the humidity coming off your own burning skin.

Carmen nods and squeezes, a bit harder than you showed him, and you let out a surprised gasp that turns into a moan, head tilting back in pleasure. His thumb finds your nipple through two layers of clothing and he rubs against it, then pinches. Your eyes fly to his, wide and searching. Surprised by his obvious willingness to please you, you watch Carm’s actions almost breathlessly - how his eyebrows knot in concentration upon every measured touch, the way the tendons in his hand strain when he sneaks his fingers behind the elastic of your underwear. But you need to see more.

“Take this off,” you rasp out, grasping the material of Carmen’s jumper and tugging. “Off,” you mutter again, trying to help Carm out while he gets the garment over his head and off, chuckling breathlessly. You catch his smile and have to grin back, shyly but surely, and you kiss again, Carmen going back where he had stopped.

When you can open your eyes again, you enjoy the sight of Carmen’s muscles straining as he fingers you, looking down at where his fingers are disappearing into you, the elastic waistband digging into his wrist. He’s as concentrated and serious as he gets in the kitchen, plus turned on, if you can judge by the way he worries his bottom lip and the flush that’s spreading down his face to his long neck. Maybe he does get turned on when he’s in the kitchen, you muse, you just never noticed.

The never-ending string of your thoughts, even in this situation, unfortunately, is interrupted by Carm’s palm moving from your bare thigh up to your ass, his fingertips digging into the meat. His other hand speeds up, causing you to mutter, “Fuck,” into his ear.

“Can you come like this?” Carmen asks, and you can feel his wide eyes on you, even though you’re not looking.

“Give me a sec,” you answer in a breathy, raw voice, already mostly there. Your hand travels down into your underwear to touch your aching, swollen clit, while Carmy resumes, rubbing your walls inside. When he curls his fingers, the tips drag over your g-spot. That stirs all sorts of feelings in you, and you moan, then start grinding against his hand, his fingers. Those fingers that you watched chop and stir so many times in secret with quiet rapture, are now in you, bringing you to an orgasm.

Afraid that he could read too much from your face, you drag him into another kiss, dirtier and more desperate than the previous ones. As you near the peak, getting more and more desperate, unable to kiss Carm properly, he mouths at your collarbones, your chest, the top of your breasts. When he uses his teeth, you know he’s testing how far he can go, and you let out an encouraging sound.

Squeezing your eyes shut, your head tips back again, baring your throat to Carmen, as you come. You can feel your thighs tremble and your fingers squeeze Carmy’s shoulders momentarily. Once it washes over you, you slide off sideways from Carmen’s lap, breathing heavily and still biting your lip. You think you didn’t let out a single sound. You didn’t want to.

Carmen gives you a side glance, eyes glassy. He seems to be a bit breathless himself. You notice his eyes going to your breasts, where you can still feel wetness from his mouth, wondering if there are any actual marks left. Judging by the look on Carmen’s face, there might be.

Without thinking, you reach out and tug on the waistband of his Dickies.

“Yeah?” he says, looking at you.

“Yeah,” you nod.

With clumsy fingers, you open the button on Carmy’s pants together. You can’t help yourself — you push up the material of his t-shirt, revealing extra skin.

Your eyes widen as you scan his toned torso. “Running, huh?” you mutter teasingly, stroking your hand down his warm abdomen.

“Huh?” Carmen’s caught off guard, eyes following your hand. “Oh I — I do push-ups — erm — press-ups — sometimes. When I can't sleep.”

God, why is he sheepish? “And how much do you actually sleep?”

“Couple of hours,” he says, but the second word ends up cut off by a gasp as you touch Carmen’s dick, tugging it out from his underwear. He hisses, hips lifting up with the sensation, and you can see his tummy muscles contracting. You start stroking him slowly, as much as the angle allows you, trying out a firmer grip and then loosening up.

Not wanting to make Carmen uncomfortable with shameless staring, you press your face into the outer side of his arm, watching him from under his shoulder wordlessly. Based purely on his facial expressions, you adjust your fingers on his dick, and the rhythm. As expected, Carmy is utterly quiet, his strong jaw clenching. Only here and there, he lets out a harsh breath that you count as a victory. The t-shirt you have your nose buried in smells of generic laundry detergent, cigarettes, and caramelized onion. It also smells like Carmen — like a guy and antiperspirant.

It’s not long before Carmy squirms — “I’m not gonna last long,” he says, fists balling, and it’s so obvious he’s been holding himself back from fucking up into your hand that you feel almost sorry for him. On the other hand, this small thing between you is so fragile, and you are so anxious that you are going to fuck up, so you just bite your tongue and don’t comment on it.

“It’s fine,” you say low, lips moving against the t-shirt again, pretending you have not been watching his every expression, reading deep into every blink of his eyes, every time he wets his lips, jerks his pelvis up a bare inch with pleasure. The tip of his dick is as cherry pink as his lips are, you notice desperately, and you know this image is going to haunt you forever.

“It’s fine,” you repeat sweetly, speeding up your movements, and then Carmen is coming, thick ropes of it landing on your fingers and your wrist and his t-shirt that’s fallen back down over his stomach. He shakes with the force of his orgasm, and you watch his body in awe as it goes through it, still touching him, feeling the hot, slippery skin of his dick in your hand.

The rush of emotions is so strong that you almost panic. Then you look left and up at Carmen—he’s trying to catch his breath, his big eyes are glassy, and his lips are shiny with his own spit, and in that very moment, you believe that he can see right into the core of your own being.

You want to cradle his jaw and kiss him. Instead, you look away faster than he can. Miraculously, a box of Kleenex sits on the coffee table by the sofa, and you reach over to hand it to Carmen.

Next to you, you hear, more than see, Carmen wipe down the mess, pulling his t-shirt back down.

There are two options—either you get up quickly and this is all over for now, or you acknowledge what just happened and try to be all mature about it. To your own surprise, you go with the latter, turning to Carmen, reaching out to touch his forearm lightly.

He looks over at you and smiles, small and gentle.Then he leans in and kisses you on the lips before standing up.

“Can I smoke in here?” he asks, already searching his pockets.

“Yeah. From the kitchen window,” you point in the general direction of the window. There’s a chopped tomato can serving as an ashtray on the outside windowsill. Without a second look, you disappear into the bathroom to fix your damp underwear.

The night stretches, and Carmy never leaves. After his smoke break, you expect things to be awkward. But they aren’t. You split the two-day-old dinner leftovers—vegan spaghetti bolognese from Mikaela—and you eat it on the same sofa where you had been touching and kissing twenty minutes ago, while watching Modern Family, just to have something to fill in the silence that could become uncomfortable.

Carmen changes into your old baggy t-shirt. No denying that you would prefer him without it, but he asks for it himself. When he comes out of the bathroom and lies next to you, he smells of mint, and you hope he didn’t use your toothbrush without asking—because, “bleh”—and he reads your mind, because he says, “I brushed with toothpaste on my finger,” and brings the blanket all the way up to his chin.

You don’t know how, but you both fall asleep.

The stirring in the bed next to you is what wakes you up. Used to sleeping in your double bed by yourself, it takes your hazy brain a moment to remember that it’s not the case tonight. The light from the streetlamp filtering through the window blinds falls on the man next to you. You watch him wriggle under the sheet, sleepy and unguarded. He looks like an innocent boy—with his puffy eyes and messy hair falling over his forehead.

Meanwhile, Carmen’s eyes open and find yours. You’re unsure of what he sees on your face, but he outstretches his arm to touch your bare shoulder, and shuffles closer. Your stomach twists at the nearness.

“You okay?” you whisper groggily. “Aren’t you cold?”

He only shakes his head.

“Okay,” you nod into the pillow, daring to run the pads of your fingers along his forearm, stroking. Carmen’s skin here is baby soft, with no hairs on the inner side. You enjoy his quiet hum as you use your nails lightly. He closes his eyes momentarily, and you would say he shivers, but you can’t be sure.

You’re surrounded by the quiet of the night; even the neighbors above must be asleep because you can’t hear their annoying heavy steps. Tomorrow, you won’t be sure if you dreamt this moment.

“Sleep,” you whisper again, something primal overtaking you as you reach further into Carmy’s hair, smoothing down the tangled curls and continuing over the shell of his ear. Carmen watches you for a little longer until he relaxes completely, his blinks getting longer. You’re so caught up in the rare moment of stillness that you don’t realize at first that he’s falling asleep, until his heavy breathing indicates that he’s gone.

#the bear #carmy berzatto #my fic #carmen berzato #carmen berzatto fanfic #carmen berzatto fanfiction #the bear fic #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #jeremy allen white #carmy x fem!reader #carmy the bear #carmy x you #carmy x reader #carmen x reader #cracks and gaps

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shipfishwrites · 2 months ago

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i've been wanting to get into pern rp, do you have any tips/suggestions?

hey sorry for the late response, for some reason tumblr forgot to tell me

thank you for this ask!! i would love to answet it fully and completely but it would be a very long answer!! basically a breakdown of how to scope out an rp that will fit you.

here are some broad based ideas to get you started as you shop for an rp:

check activity. find an rp that aligns eith your preferred activity level -- if you want to perfect every post and trade replies weekly, look for evidence of that, if you want daily replies, look for that

check recently approved characters to see if they match the vibe you want -- a lot of times the lore doesn't match the vibe of the site, so something can look really cool based on the lore but actually have become a different vibe over time

pern rp particularly has a pretty bad time with staffing all of their ranker-players. if eventually attaining a ranking/leadership/plot relevant character is your thing, look for evidence that the admin team does that (evidence, not them sayimg so in the rules)

here's some things i do that may not work for you:

i don't bother to read the rules until i've basically made up my mind if i'm going to try to play there. i go for the dragon info page (and wher page if the site does whers) and read through the description of the canon and special colors. are greens forced/expected to be stupid sluts? are bronzes forced to be noble knightly chads? biiig pass. the way these pages are written can give you a great idea about how flexible and story-oriented the site intends to be. i lean hard either "let me do anything" or "make the restrictions interesting" so ymmv

for jcink rps: go to the bottom of the site, get "today's active topics" and change it to see the past month. pay special attention to who is active in the rp. look at their characters. see if the vibe is right for you

check out the adopts!!! mega points if the admins are cleatly trying to get people to enter leadership positions. big demerits if there is some kind of ban on newbies having leadership. (buying rankers can be neutral or bad, it depends on the site)

for getting into pern rps specifically:

for this purpose i'm going to assume you, nonnie, are somewhat familiar with the books and at least passingly familiar with the art and commentary in the pern tag here on tumblr. i assume you like the books?

it is very important to remember that if the site you are looking at is up front in praising the books, says they really love them, etc., this is a BAD SIGN.

pern rp fandom is (maybe a little bit uniquely?) in an argument with canon, not in conversation with it. there are so many aspects of canon that just suck in an rp setting (ex. lifetime appointment of the senior weyrwoman, meaning the only way to shake that up is for her to die, everything about flights) that even the most canon weyr has yo make concessions to make it playable/comfortable in a group setting.

so if a site up front is like "we're canon. not like those other sites. we actually care about the lore." this is actually a dogwhistle for blatant transphobia, homophobia, favoritism, and really shit moderation. likewise, a tone of anger or vitriol towards more canon-leaning sites is a red flag, they tend also to have extremely narrow views on what the "right" way to play is.

the best way to play a pern game is to take the books as a framework, like baking a cake, that's your flour and egg, you're getting the structure from there but your cake isn't going to taste good unless you get a site willing to spice it up with its little extras and go to the effort of putting some basic butter and baking soda in there to fluff it up. pern in the novels does not work as an open, public rp, it's not a recipe for cake, so everyone adjusts it, the people who say they don't are Lying.

anyway

suggestions

i don't feel comfortable recommending an rp for you nonnie without knowing what you're most interested in. i have heard that at least one site is just starting up so that could be a great place to start.

i'm in the middle of making a site but it's not ready yet

@ followers, kindly recommend your rp spots for nonnie! (don't just drop the ad, give them a feel for the rp. don't leave out the rough bits either, we all know every site has them)

#discussion #question answer #dragonriders of pern #pern #rp meta

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spookygingerr · 1 month ago

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☀️ wednesday tag game - positivity edition ☀️

we once again made it to wednesday. in all seriousness, you all rock <3 for a lot of us it is winter, it's cold, it's miserable, it's dark, so lets bring in some sunshine with this tag game (and those already in summer? extra sun for you <3)

name: ice

name (s) you were almost given: if i was born AMAB i would have been called joseph

nicknames you've been given: ice, ice cream, ice ice baby, ice spice, ice box...

top five frequently used emojis: 😂☺️😣😆😌

the last yummy thing you ate: i just had a tofu, halloumi and courgette stir fry with rice noodles and honey and soy sauce as the sauce. super fresh and super yum

something you're good at that we might not know already: cooking! pls see last answer. i'm also good at baking and making nice coffees. 🍰

something you've always been good at: baking

something you're working hard to get better at: drawing, and styling my hair

favourite item of clothing: BOTH of my era's tour hoodies, i live in them

favourite fizzy drink/pop/soda (if you like them): i am usually a diet coke girl but this week i bought dr pepper and i'm really enjoying the change

favourite place you've visited: k'gari island. it was so peaceful, natural and beautiful

a place you look forward to visiting in the future: amsterdam

your favourite song right now: what is this feeling from wicked

tags below the cut

@gallapiech @ian-galagher @transmurderbug @roryonic @energievie

@heymacy @mybrainismelted @deedala @michellemisfit @jrooc

@creepkinginc @crossmydna @callivich @gallavichsuperfan @kiennilove

@em-harlsnow @mickeym4ndy @transsexual-dandelions @romidoes @sleepyfacetoughguy

@sam-loves-seb @samantitheos @spacerockwriting @spoonfulstar @kiennilove

@thepupperino @nozenfordaddy @blue-disco-lights @bawlbrayker @sgtmickeyslaughter

@transmickey @deathclassic @doshiart @vintagelacerosette

#tag game #weekly tag wednesday

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skullcandy11111198 · 1 year ago

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Leveragetober23 Day 3: family

Soon after Breanna came to live with Nana, she got a visit from one of her new big brothers. Nana was all in a tizzy for a few days beforehand, when she first learned one of her children would be coming back home for a few days. Apparently Hardison was a legend around here. Nana was baking like crazy, and when Breanna built up the courage to ask why she was making so much food, she learned that her "big brother and his partners" would be coming to stay with them.

Now, Breanna was pretty open minded, her parents raised her well, but she will admit she did a slowblink when she was first told. No one else seemed to have any thoughts on that topic, no weird or judge-y faces from any of the other children in hearing range, so she shrugged and went with it.

When they finally arrived, she was only more intrigued. Hardison could best be described as a whirlwind. He moved fast and talked faster. His two friends, on the other hand, were the direct opposite. They both smiled when talking to others, and answered rather succinctly, but otherwise they didn't move very fast, and in the scheme of things, barely talked at all.

Breanna wasn't quite sure what to do with them. She had accepted her parents were gone, and her definition of family had to change rather quickly, but every time she met a new child of Nana's, it hit her again how much her life had changed over the last two-ish years. Therefore, she was back in her room, decompressing a bit after meeting Hardison and his "partners."

(After meeting them, she honestly couldn't tell if they were romantic-partners or business-partners. They talked about work, a lot. They were vague about it, but they obviously worked together. On the other hand, Parker was a very clingy person with both Hardison and Eliot. Inevitably she would be hanging off one of them, touching them in some way. Hardison and Eliot were known to share a knowing look with each other too, whenever Parker did something. Parker and Eliot always made sure an orange soda was in Hardison's reach, and Parker and Hardison would make googly eyes whenever Eliot even just talked about cooking.)

A knock on her door distracted her.

She opened her door to reveal a slightly nervous looking Parker, who kept checking over her shoulder while she asked if she could hide in Breanna's room for a little bit. Breanna was unsure about this new person, but eh, why not? When she said as much, Parker beamed and thanked her while sliding inside and sitting on the ground behind where the door would hinge open.

Okayyyy. Breanna hesitantly sat down criss cross apple sauce, facing her. "Not to, like, stop you or anything…but, why are we sitting on the ground, exactly?"

Parker looked at her with a sharp eye. "Well, I'm sitting on the ground. You just decided to do it because I did. Sophie says that has to do with psychology, but I don't remember which theory right now."

"Hey! It feels perfectly reasonable right now to go to ground when the only adult in here right now is doing the same!" Breanna pouted, but all she got back was a small smile from Parker. "And hey, don't distract me! Why are we on the ground?"

Parker laughed, then suddenly went quiet. Breanna started to open her mouth to ask her what was happening when Parker suddenly whipped her hand up to stop her from speaking. A few moments later Breanna heard footsteps walking down the hall, pausing at the end, then turning around and walking back to the main part of the house.

Once she was sure whoever it was was gone, she lowered her hand. Breanna was even more curious now, and slightly worried. She knew Nana, and she knew how she raised her children, but either way there was another woman in her room, an adult, who seemed to be hiding from the other adults. Breanna needed to know what was going on.

Parker must have been able to read her face because when she turned her head back towards the younger girl, she immediately started to explain.

"Okay, so to be honest, I've gotten wayyy better with people. Like, way better. I haven't stabbed anyone with a fork in two months, Hardison and Sophie are really proud of me. But there are still a lot of people out there, and they were starting to get loud, and I don't like loud. Loud means notice and I don't like to be noticed, so I went to the place I was sure no one would check because I know Hardison, which means I know Nana, which means I know they will give you privacy because new people are around, which means people are way less likely to come looking for me in here, and when Nana introduced you, you were really quiet, so you are not likely to be as loud as it is out there. So, safe space."

Breanna's head was reeling from trying to keep track of…all of that but yeah, it made sense, in a weird way. She was the newest kid, and one of the previous kids was coming home to visit for the first time since she arrived, plus they were bringing other people too, so Nana was likely to quietly tell everyone to give her some space.

Breanna nodded definitively. "Okay, that makes sense. But…floor?"

Parker nodded, very serious, "First lesson: even when you're hidden, don't assume you're safe, always hide somewhere in a hidden place. Then you're way less likely to be caught" She paused, eyeing Breanna's head speculatively. "You have really curly hair. That's good. You can hide a lot of things in there, lots of pins, maybe even a key or two." Another pause, Breanna felt like her soul was being weighed. "Do you want to learn how to pick a lock in less than 5 seconds?"

Oh, they were going to be friend-friends. "Okay!"

#leveragetober23 #leveragetober #breanna casey #parker leverage #parker #alec hardison #eliot spencer #leverage #sophie devereaux #ao3 #nana hardison

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toxictigertonic · 4 months ago

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Okay. Here me out. I know I already asked for something and this i can't ask for anything ever again from you but please your magnificents I am but a poor little British boy asking for the crust of your bread:

WHAT IF THEY WERE HOSTING A BAKE SALE. WHAT IF.

Keep asking me things!! I love to yap!! My bread crusts are free, I shall even throw in some butter for them!!

A bake sale hosted by the prime assets for the reagents would be the most hectic, hilarious, and probably dangerous thing you've ever seen, and that's saying a lot. Where did they get the baking materials? Did anyone follow a recipe? Should you eat anything that Franco or Leland had a hand in creating? Who knows!

COYLE

- He cannot bake to save his life.

- It's both underbaked and overbaked at the same time. Outside's burnt to a cinder and the inside is still batter. Turn down the heat on your oven you fool.

- He'd either try to make something really simple, like oatmeal cookies, or he'd think he's a God at baking and try to make some shit like macarons or a soufflé.

- Kinda guy who thinks he can just fuck with the measurements and imgredients in a recipe and still have it come out the same. Also doubles his recipes and forgets to double the baking soda (I'm guilty of that ngl)

- The reagents would buy his baked goods just to use them as throwable items. Bricks are out, Coyle's homemade oatmeal rocks are in.

- Honestly I think he'd be good at making things taste good, he just can't bake them properly.

- As for being at the bake sale, he's immediately jealous of how good Phyllis' desserts look. They've got that homemade charm but still look amazing.

- Takes some comfort in seeing the mess Franco is serving up though.

- Would tell people that if they don't like the way his cookies are baked then they should make them themselves. I payed 2 tickets for these cookies I deserve to complain.

MOTHER GOOSEBERRY

- The QUEEN of the bake sale. Bow down to her.

- She spent an entire month planning and prepping for this bake sale, this has been the only thing on her mind for 4 goddamn weeks.

- Makes at least 5 or 6 different desserts, ranging from mini apple pies, to simple chocolate chip cookies, to actual perfectly made macarons. This woman is magic when it comes to baking.

- She even has cute little packaging for all of her baked goods. This woman went all out and you better appreciate her.

- Will offer you a sample if you don't know what something is, but if you say you don't like it you better be ready to answer to Futterman.

- Futterman is not allowed to advertise the baked goods. Mainly bc anyone who says they aren't interested is chased down. There's no more room underneath the table to hide unfortunate reagents.

- Besides, Phyllis is already amazing at advertising her own baked goods. Her personality makes people want to try her stuff immediately (and the table smells heavenly).

- By the end of the bake sale, her table is empty. Sold through everything and had people begging to order stuff from her. (There might be some angel dust in those cookies but don't tell her I told you that)

- Franco was not allowed to try any of her baked goods. Samples are only for paying customers, little man. He tried to snag one secretly many a time but he's almost gotten a drill to the hand as punishment.

- Coyle and Franco fight over who gets to lick the spoon when she's done mixing batter. Neither of them get it, Futterman gets the spoon.

FRANCO

- I want you to be honest now. Would you really eat anything he made? Would you trust his baking skills?

- Remember how I said he likes his cookies severely underbaked? That's what he's bringing to the bake sale. Just nearly raw cookie dough. And it's not even good cookie dough.

- I love him, you know I do, but he would not change spoons between taste testing the dough.

- Forgot about the bake sale until the day of and just threw something together so Phyllis wouldn't yell at him for not participating.

- The only way I'm trusting anything he makes is if Phyllis is supervising him. They can make thumbprint cookies together :)

- Honestly I'd probably just give him 50 dollars and let him buy things rather than allow him to sell things. Let him buy some cake pops.

- The reagents bully him for his shitty baking skills, and the poor guy had to hand Lupara off to Phyllis at the door. He's just gotta take it, or start a fist fight.

- He'd throw a mini tantrum anytime somebody bought from the other two. How DARE you not buy his cookies, he made them with love! And potentially teeth.

- Spends most of the bake sale trying to steal a single thing from Phyllis bc she won't let him have any samples. Hides under the table and keeps getting his hand slapped by her.

Keep sending in requests, art or headcanons I don't mind! It gives me something to do and I love any chance to draw or think of the sillies.

#leland coyle #mother gooseberry #dr futterman #phyllis futterman #franco barbi #il bambino #outlast trials #outlast #ive got some art of Frankie coming your way so be prepared for the little guy

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year ago

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Yoongi

Lock Me Up | Found

He promised.

Tags/Warnings: Detective Agust D my friends, Criminal Kitty!Reader, hybrid Yoongi, mentions of violence, kidnapping, major angst, fluff?

Length: Drabble

There is no taglist for this fic

A/N: now stop trying to ruin their happiness thanks

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Where could you be?

Police forces are out looking for any trace of you- his home already having been checked as well as your usual spots you'd be at during the day. But there's nothing. You've vanished without a trace, and Yoongi doesn't even have a clue who could've taken you in the first place. There's really nothing to gain from you other than maybe money- but in that case, someone would need to know your value first, and the people you're connected to. No one just randomly kidnaps someone and hopes their family can pay what they want.

It doesn't make sense.

And the number you told him? He doesn't know if it's complete, or if you got interrupted. He's got no clue what you meant by it, doesn't know what he's supposed to do with it- but it must be important if you say it to him. You're smart- much smarter than one might think, and he personally believes you're not even aware of it yourself. The streets have taught you a lot of things that can keep you alive in a situation like this-

so he hopes you'll use that knowledge until he finds you.

He's walking down the street on the edge of town where a patrolling officer seems to be arguing with an elderly lady, her dog on a leash barking, especially when Yoongi walks closer. He tends to have an effect on animals- though one look from his eyes seems to shut the small dog up. He hasn't been wearing his covering contact lenses in a long time now-

he's embracing who he is these days, much of it thanks to you.

"What's going on here?" Yoongi asks, the patrolling officer sighs, as the lady interrupts him, giving him no chance to fill the detective in.

"That constant banging noise is what's wrong!" The lady whines. "Every day, every night, bang bang bang, it's driving me mad!" She complains.

"Where is it coming from?" Yoongi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He's got better things to worry about than a noise complaint from a pensioned post-menopausal woman in her late 50's.

"Apartment 265, right above mine!" She says. "I don't know what that guy is up to these days but he should really think about his neighbors-" She rants, and Yoongis eyes sharpen.

"Which apartment?" He presses suddenly, cutting her off- and even she seems startled about his reaction.

"..265?" She answers a lot more quietly now, and Yoongi draws his weapon at that.

"You, ask her about any information she has about whoever lives in that apartment. I want a name, I want a description, I want when he leaves the apartment and what fucking shoesize he wears if she knows it!" he barks at the young officer, before he dashes into the apartment complex, running the stairs instead of taking the elevator to be faster.

Of course.

"He sold catnip laced with other drugs and baking soda." You'd laughed, looking at him upside down as you lazed around on his bed while he washed the dishes. "He wasn't too happy I basically snitched on him and told everyone about it. He was pissed!" You had told him.

"Try not to make anymore enemies from now on though." Yoongi had sighed. "Someone's gonna kidnap you one day, I'm gonna have to shoot someone, and that's a shit-ton of paperwork." He's told you, joking mostly.

"But you'd come and save me, wouldn't you?" You'd teased-

and he'd smiled, simply nodded in confirmation.

"Promise?" You ask him, and he sighs, before he turns around to walk closer to you, kissing your upside-down face with a stoic expression- but eyes filled with love.

"Promise.

He doesn't even knock or anything, simply shoots the door to unlock it, before he enters with the by now familiar phrase announcing his presence to whoever might be inside the apartment. The first thing he notices is the stench of garbage and sweetness, before the tiny flies seem to attack him as he looks around the apartment, searching for anybody.

And there he is, a man dressed in dirty sweatpants and an equally soiled sleeveless shirt, looking at him with angry eyes. "Should've known you hybrid rats stick together." He grunts, as Yoongi points the weapon on him, multiple officers entering the apartment behind himself, making sure the surrounding area is under control.

"Where is she?" Yoongi wants to know, walking closer with the gun still drawn.

"What part of her would you like?" The man sickly jokes, and Yoongi doesn't waste a second to shoot right next to the guy into the stained couch, visibly startling him.

"The next is gonna land right between your legs and trust me-" The detective growls, "-My aim is great." he threatens.

"Detective Min!" Someone calls instead, and Yoongi's attention is taken away as he runs towards the room he's been called to.

And right there, in the bathtub, there's you- wide eyed and bruised- a thick and clumsily wrapped cloth around your thigh stained in what he assumes must be old blood, but you're alive.

You're alive.

The moment he bends down to get closer, something seems to happen within you, as you scramble up to reach him first, wrapping your entire body and every available limb around him, even your tail- and he's never held you so tightly than now, finally breathing again as your scent is all around him once more. "You're okay." He reassures you- or maybe more so himself.

"You found me." You whimper into his chest, frantically scenting him. "You came.!" You say, and he nods.

"Of course." He tells you, uncaring of anybody in this moment as he just runs his hand over your back.

"I promised, didn't I?"

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #hybrid imagine #yoongi imagine #yoongi fluff #min yoongi imagines #min yoongi imagine #bts yoongi imagine #yoongi imagines #bts suga imagine #suga imagine #agust d imagine

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valve3nthusiast · 1 year ago

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(Answering @camp-mithril-lake , my asks are biffed atm)

Roddy absolutely got that pregnancy glow, highkey one of my favorite things to think about with this au is how happy he is. Happy people are very attractive, and after it's gotten out to the crew and everyone actually believes that Rodimus is going to somehow make a newbuild...

Well. after a ridiculously long and population-devastating war, it's going to make a lot of mechs Feel A Certain Way

Extremely funny part of vector au that I haven't mentioned yet: At some point, probably around the third or fourth time Roddy starts fabricating another sparkchamber, Ratchet someone's got to ask, "So... when are you going to stop getting pregnant?"

And Roddy, rubbing his new baby bump with a goofy little smile, is gonna go, "Oh! When my protocols think there's enough newbuilds around. No clue what that will happen. It might take a while"

And Ratchet the person who asked is going to look at the newbuilds, currently running wild in Swerve's (he made a "newbuild's night"). One of them is on top of Whirl's shoulders, screaming excited nonsense as he shoots things. One of them is making a """baking soda volcano""" with Brainstorm. One of them is going back and forth between Drift and Cyclonus, begging them to teach him sword fighting

That bot's gonna give the most defeated groan you can imagine, before throwing back the engex he's definitely not supposed to have at kids night. Being Ratchet is suffering

(I think I remember the art you're talking about, lmao. Multishipper that I am, I sometimes headcanon the Lost Light as an extremely expansive, extended polycule. Loveboat ftw)

#valveplug #mine #mechpreg #rodimus #vector au #3nthusiasts inbox

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aughtpunk · 19 days ago

Note

modern au question what their fav foods/drinks? (for some reason i feel like jacob would really be into energy drinks like monster or whatever brand)

Okay, I took a big fat nap and I'm no longer tripping BUT I have become completely unstuck in time so let's answer some questions BOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Shaun is a vegetarian and truly enjoys light, refreshing salads like the absolute freak he is. He has a severe addiction to sugar free fruit punch.

Jacob on the other hand loves meat (Shaun is freaked out a little by this and their very sharp teeth) and will commit violence for a good juicy hamburger. And yes, they do slam a monster energy drink every morning (no one knows how they're still alive).

Narinder loves anything fresh and warm. He absolutely can't stand canned or instant stuff at all. Rakshasa allows him to make his own meals at the cafe and he's getting really good at cooking because of it. He lives off coffee black and strong enough to peel paint.

Leshy will eat literally anything. You know that kid in school who would eat any gross combination of food you gave them for attention? Leshy is that kid but he's not a kid and also he's not doing it for attention and he loves it ironically. It does keep his siblings from eating his food. Oddly enough he drinks almost nothing else but lemon water.

(Lemmy is trying to eat better but still eats a lot of take out and fast food. And oh man, does he guzzle soda)

Heket is a God Damn Food Snob. But not like in a 'only eats at fancy places' snob, but in the she WILL spend an entire day smoking a brisket to perfection while her siblings are begging her to just order a pizza already. Because of this she'll also eat almost anything, although if you twist her arm she would say her favorite food is cinnamon buns. She really enjoys a nice cup of herbal tea but like not in the weird way Kallamar does.

I am projecting my autism hard on Kallamar so he eats almost the exact same meal every day: a bowl of fish chunks with tempura sauce and shredded nori on top. If no one stops him he will eat this three meals a day seven days a week. Heket honestly has no idea how Kallamar stays healthy eating this and only this but chalks it up to a weird-squid-thing. Kallamar, of course, is the biggest God Damn Tea Snob that has ever existed.

Shamura is a carnivore. Not like in a weird health dude way, but in an they're just naturally a carnivore sort of way. They love a good rare steak and are crazy for properly cooked bone marrow. That being said they can eat other things (even if their stomach disagrees sometimes) and do love a fresh baked loaf of bread. Shamura loves to unwind with a good ginger beer that's strong enough to clear your sinuses

(Clementine eats a carnivore diet as well, and was honestly glad to meet another meat-eating sheep with Jacob.)

#q&a #ket time #ketamine

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allandoflimbo · 2 years ago

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I C E P R I N C E S S 11

Pairings: Popular Girl!Reader x Outkast!Bucky

Explicit Content - Smut - NO MINORS

Summary:

Bucky Barnes is the quiet boy who gets picked on.

The Reader and her friends run with the popular crowd at Stark High.

As the Winter Ball approaches, she is partnered with Bucky Barnes for a class project. They grow close in an inadvertently secret friendship, which later turns into love.

Only catch is…she’s Steve Roger’s ex girlfriend, and before she was partnered up with Bucky, her friends had planned to use and turn Bucky into Stark High’s new it boy to try and get back at Steve; a disgusting bet.

Another catch: She’s a figure skater at the town’s arena every Tuesday and Thursday nights. Bucky works part time at the rink resurfacing the ice. The other doesn’t know.

Modern AU High School fic - later goes into adulthood.

M A S T E R P A G E - FULL SERIES

Warnings: This story will have a lot of angst, a lot of fluff, a lot of cursing, and a lot of sex. Oral, praise kink, body worship, overstimulation, etc. you know me. There will also be loss of virginity in this.

Please support your content creators and writers and leave a review.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

A/n: The chapter you've been waiting for. Smut ahead. Reminder that everyone is 18 or older and consenting adults. :)

The Cabin

The day had started a little awkwardly. Everyone had to find their rooms and unpack. Sam and Bucky were rooming together, Matt and Steve, you and Sharon, and Carol was with Monica. There was a spare room for if your friend Nat decided to arrive tomorrow.

You had spoken to Bucky only briefly, he'd been acting awkward since Steve showed up. He was always so chatty but now with everyone around, it was like he reverted to not speaking as much.

But you don't miss his eyes the way they stay with yours.

Now the popcorn was popped, and the pizza was baked. Closing in a eight pm, the lights were off and the fire in the fire place was blazing. Your eyes would meet across the circle as everyone talked to each other.

At one point, you decided to go into the kitchen for a can of soda when you heard footsteps behind you.

You turned around and the blue-green eyed boy smiled at you.

"Hey." He says.

"Hey, Steve."

You feel a bit awkward as you move through the kitchen and closer to him.

"How are you doing?" He asks softly.

"I'm alright," you answer, you push a strand of hair behind your ear and cross one of your arms over your chest, "takes time, ya know?" You add a chuckle in for the sake of you me sanity. He knows you're talking about multiple things. Your break up, his cheating, your accident, your recovery. He knows you've changed in the last six months and he's admired the girl you've become. He would always respect you.

"How's skating going? I missed your last one. I'm sorry."

You swallow hard.

He sees a far away sadness in your eyes before you respond.

"It's okay." You whisper. You look away from him and to the ground, "I miss him, Stevie."

Steve reaches forward and cups the back of your neck with his right hand.

You blink away tears as his thumb runs over the scar there.

"Oh, Y/N." He says.

"I never thanked you properly for being there for me."

He smiles at you.

"I'll always be there for you."

It's then that you both hear someone walk into the kitchen. You look over to see Bucky standing in the entrance mid step.

You don't know why you overthink the situation. Maybe it's the way he eyes Steve's hand on your neck.

Bucky feels like he's suddenly intruded on something he didn't want to see, even though he had no right to not like it.

"Sorry, I didn't mean—" Bucky mumbles, about to turn back around.

"No, it's okay." Steve says, dropping his hand away from your neck, "Bucky, right?"

Bucky nods.

"I was just telling Steve about my brother," Steve is momentarily shocked, not expecting you'd be so transparent with Bucky, but he doesn't mind. If anything. It just peaks his interest. He doesn't miss the way your eyes soften and the way your voice has taken on a new tone. Bucky clears his throat, "he was there for me through it all when it happened so he knows everything."

It's meant to console Bucky. You don't know why you feel the need to justify this position and make Bucky reassured it's nothing happening. But the words do the opposite of console Bucky.

"I understand." Bucky says. He forces a smile and your eyes meet once more. You're the one that swallows hard this time, "but really it's fine. Just wanted to let you guys know they're about to start a game. I think telestrations or something."

You and Steve both nod and Bucky leaves.

Steve clears his throat and turns to you with a knowing smirk.

You frown at him.

"What?" You ask.

"He likes you."

You blush as you look away from him. You let out a small chuckle.

"No, I don't think so." You say quietly.

Bucky didn't like you. Did he?

"Please. The way he was looking at you?"

You shake your head to yourself remembering all the things Bucky said to you at the restaurant.

"He'd never like someone like me. He's said so himself."

"A sweet girl like you?" You don't say anything as you stare back at the entryway Bucky just walked out of, "and something tells me you like him, too." Your eyes flicker to his at those words.

—-

"That's not fair! You cheated!" Sam yells.

"How the hell did I cheat?" Steve exclaims with laughter.

"You and your damn drawing skills, that's how."

"This game doesn't even keep score." Carol says, "get over it." She rolls her eyes.

Sam glares at her as he reaches for the Grey Goose bottle, downing the rest of it in one go.

You raise a brow at him.

"Sore loser alert." You mumble.

Everyone laughs.

"You know what, y/l/n?" Sam says once he puts the bottle down.

"What?" You ask playfully and smirking.

He squints at you and a smile fills his face.

"You're lucky you're cool or I swear." He says.

"Alright, enough of this shit." Matt says, reaching over for the telestrations box and packing up everyone's little notebooks.

"Hey!" Sharon protests, "we weren't done."

"I don't care Sharon, let's play a real game. Anyone up for truth or dare?" Matt says with a smirk, "an X rated version?"

You're biting at your bottom lip as your eyes migrate towards Bucky on the couch next to Sam. You pull out your phone.

Let's ditch everyone. Want to see something cool?

You send him the text. You watch as he frowns when he feels the vibration in his pocket and pulls out his phone. He reads your text and smiles.

| Sure. Go ahead I'll be right behind you.

You smile as you read his response. You clear your throat as you stand up.

"I'll be right back, guys." You announce, pulling your black hoodie down.

Sharon looks up at you with furrowed brows.

"Where are you going?" She asks.

"Just outside for a bit. I'll be back." You say.

Bucky feels the butterflies in his tummy as he watches you walk out the cabin and into the night air.

He takes a sip from his Coca Cola can and then places it on the table next to him, next to a stack of Uno cards.

"Alright, who's going to start?" Matt asks, obnoxiously excited. His eyes dart over to Bucky knowingly, but Bucky's patience is wearing thin:

"I have to excuse myself, guys." Bucky says, throwing everyone except Matt a smile.

The girls all smile back at him and Sam and Steve give each other a knowing look with a small smile.

"Okie dokie." Sam shouts, "be safe out there."

Matt's face is in a hard glare as his nose flares, eyes not darting away from Bucky.

He can't help the scorn as Bucky follows behind you out the door.

"I'm tired. I think I'm gonna head to bed." Carol says, yawning.

"Me too." Steve says.

"Same." Sharon.

"You're a bunch of old people." Matt mumbles, marching away.

—-

"Where the hell are we going?" Bucky asks you, following across the large open field and into the woods.

You smile faintly.

"You'll see," you look over at him and smile. His eyes meet yours in an intense stare, and his gaze follows the bridge of your nose, "you trust me?" You ask so quietly he almost doesn't hear you.

"Yeah." He doesn't even hesitate to respond.

"Come on." You say.

You two walk for about three more minutes. Through heavy trees and over a small river that has a log connecting one side to the other as a bridge.

He halts when you stop in front of him. His eyes follow your gaze to the white building standing in the middle of an open field.

It's a white church with black shudders, completely abandoned and half falling apart.

"This is creepy." He says.

You giggle.

"You're safe, don't worry," you grab his hand and you lead him into the church. The moldy wooden floorboards creek beneath your feet as you step inside, letting the heavy black door close behind you.

You look up at Bucky. His jaw is sharp, handsomely perfect, and his eyes take in the terrifying dark space. Half the ceiling is caved in, exposing the night black sky.

"Stay here." You tell him.

"What?" There's a certain fear in his voice that you find adorable, "where are you going?" He asks as he watches you walk into the abyss of darkness.

You don't respond and Bucky shifts his weight from leg to leg anxiously. He says your name once more and nothing. He licks his lips and is about to decide to disobey your order when he hears a loud bang and a humming sound. Then he sees you perfectly clear as you walk back to him.

He can see you because there's a large chandelier hanging from the partial ceiling that he hadn't seen before and it's hundreds of bulbs glow a bright orange above you. He's speechless as his heart beats like crazy inside of his chest.

You're giving him the brightest smile he's ever seen in his life and you're glowing like the sun. You looked breathtaking.

You motioned your arms around you to show him to look around and he does. The whole church is glowing and it looks beautiful. Almost as beautiful as you.

"How—" he starts, his voice fading off.

"I found this place a couple years ago when we first started coming here."

"Alone?"

"Alone." You confirm.

"You've never showed anyone else?"

There's a beat of silence.

"No. Just you." You say.

You watch him intently as he walks up to you. He's giving you a look you can't identify. Then he smiles wide.

"I don't know if I should be scared of you or..."

You tilt your head at him.

"Or?" You ask.

You both hear a rumble and your eyes dart up to the sky. Somehow you had both moved to the center of the church.

"I don't know. Something. You're interesting." He whispers, looking back down at you.

You don't realize how close you both are. You're too caught up in this moment to tell.

"You're something, too." You say, a smile pulling at your lips.

He laughs.

And just like that, the skies open up and the rain begins to pour over the both of you.

You look up and laugh.

"We're going to get sick." Bucky chuckles.

The rain picks up even more and Bucky stares down at you. You're soaking wet. Your hair glues to the side of your face and to your shoulders. The rain drops dangles over your lips and your eyelashes.

Somehow, he finds himself grabbing your hand. You squeeze each other tightly.

The lights flicker above you until they finally shut off completely. The rain was getting worst.

Bucky doesn't say anything as he pulls you behind him in the darkness.

For the first time in a long time, you feel truly safe.

Out the church, you both speed walk towards the woods. The trees help a little to shelter you from the rain but it still continues to wet you nonetheless. The cold air didn't help either.

He guides you across the log that's laid over the river, his hands holding your waist. Through more woods and more mud, you're both practically walking puddles.

Both escape the woods and the cabin comes in straight view.

You both make a run for it through the sheets of water, your hands still clasped tightly together.

You find yourself slipping on the mud beneath your now dirty shoes and it causes you to slide to the side and towards the grass.

Bucky laughs out loud as he catches you and you laugh too.

He's got you until you're steady back on your feet and you continue your run inside.

You're at the front door and his hand keeps slipping from the doorknob. He chuckles as he watches you getting even more wet, if possible.

You looked goddamn adorable.

He finally manages to get the door open and he closes it quietly behind you. You're both still laughing and your shoes squeak over the floor. The cabin is dark, a clear sign that everyone was already asleep,

Bucky is still laughing and your mind is in a daze. You're giggling non stop. Your back is against the wall next to the stairs that leads up to the other rooms and he's standing right in front of you, laughing and smiling non stop.

You place both your hands on his chest as you giggle, and suddenly he's right up against you. Your hands slide up until they are near his shoulders. You can feel him rumbling beneath your hands as he laughs and whispers something you can quite understand.

"Shhh, shhhh..." you tell him playfully between giggles. He giggles and his eyes crinkle at the sides, "shhh." You say again.

Eventually his giggles dial down, as do yours, and silence engulfs you both.

The rain patters against the glass and ground outside.

Your eyes follow his piercing blue eyes and how they're looking into your own, and then they travel down his nose, and to his lips.

There's no more laughing.

Bucky leans his forehead down against yours and closes his eyes.

Oh, this, this felt like a thousand burning suns.

You find your hands on either side of his neck as his nose hits yours. You both smell like a fresh thunderstorm.

With a sigh he opens his eyes. His left thumb runs over the tops of your cheeks and your eyes meet again.

You feel like you're going to implode when he starts to slowly move in. You find yourself meeting him halfway.

Both of your eyes are halfway closed as his lips finally run over yours in a soft but languid peck.

You're both still when he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again.

In total sync, you both move in at the same time, smashing your lips together in a passionate and dirty kiss.

You find your hand going to the back of his head, near the nape of his neck, and you deepen the kiss even further.

The sound Bucky makes as he tilts his head for better access, letting his tongue run over yours, makes your core tingle and your insides burn.

His right hand is on your waist traveling upwards to your neck. His left hand is cupping your face. The sighs of contentment that you leave on each other is magical and a language of its own.

He slows down his kisses and then fully stops. You're going to ask him what's wrong when he grabs your hand and starts to walk up the stairs.

You've never felt like this before.

This was a first for you.

Your heart skips a beat as you watch him find the spare room that was being unoccupied.

His fingers run over yours as he opens the door and pulls you inside. He locks the door with an audible click and neither of you waste an extra second.

Your kisses are hot and frantic. He's pushing you to walk back towards the bed and you sit on it on your knees. You grab his shirt in a fist and pull him to follow you.

Once he's also on his knees in front of you, he grabs your wrists and leans back to look down at you. Both of your lips are swollen and both of your eyes are dark.

He runs his hand once more over your chin and to the back of your head where your hair runs between his fingers. He leans his forehead down against yours.

Suddenly, you're both nervous.

You've never done this before. You wonder if he has.

You're so shy right now but also so scared; in the best way possible.

"You want this?" His question is hoarse and three octaves lower than it normally is.

You nod.

He kisses you one more time and then his fingers go to the hem of your soaking wet sweatshirt.

Once he pulls it off you, your skin feels much colder and crave his touch. You've got a black tank top on and you help him remove that, too.

You were beautiful. Your perky breasts are the sweetest things he's ever seen and your nipples are hard against the cold air. Left hand to your neck, he kisses you again, letting your tongues dance together.

This time, you help him pull off his own black sweatshirt. He has nothing underneath and your hands immodestly goes to his pecks and down his torso. He shivers underneath your touch.

You're not sure what to do. Since you've never done this, you don't know how much is too much yet. You've only read about scenes like this in books and fanfiction but doing it in real life felt so much scarier.

You knew it was because it was your first time, it would get easier, but you wished it wasn't this scary. Every move you make is determined but hesitant. You're afraid of disappointing him. You wanted this to be perfect.

But you knew that if this was his first time too, it wouldn't be romance book perfect.

But as he removed your shoes and pants, and when you were both just in your underwear, you realized it didn't have to be perfect and that's what made it perfect.

It wasn't about who did what but about what you were trying to express to each other. You hoped deeply that he was feeling the same thing you were.

He's hovering over you. The pillow is behind your head and he's got his left forearm over it. His right hand is on your waist where he rubs soft circles just over your underwear.

You both kiss again, this time his lips catching your bottom one beautifully.

"Bucky." You whisper, hating to break the silence but knowing that communicating is going to be important right now.

"Yeah?" He asks just as quietly, his thumb running over the top of your head.

You maintain eye contact as you shimmy your underwear off and down your legs. Bucky gulps, his eyes darting down as he watches you.

He doesn't miss the way you close your legs involuntarily to shy away from his eyes.

No one has even seen that part of your body before.

"Please be gentle with me." You say.

He whimpers at your words. Not because he doesn't like it but because you sound so sweet.

"Of course," he says, his right hand going to the outside of your thigh. He kisses you again and you moan against his mouth, "I'm scared." He freezes up at your words. Did he do something you didn't consent to? Did he scare you? Shit. He starts to pull away from you but you grab onto his neck again, "I know it's going to hurt, that's why I'm scared. It's not you. It's that part of me, I never...and I've always heard..." your voice starts to fade away as small tears fill your eyes and he starts to realize what you were saying.

Bucky doesn't know why he'd always assumed you and Steve had slept together before. Maybe it just seemed to him like it made sense. You and Steve were together for so long and were eighteen already. Bucky wonders why it never happened.

But he's also feeling something else. He's feeling special and prideful. Because you, god how he treasures and admires you. He would never do anything to hurt you ever again and the fact that you will be each others first, it sends a fire through his heart.

He's so happy it's you and he hopes you feel the same way about it.

"I will never hurt you," you trust him immensely even though you know that what he's about to do to your body he has no control over how it will feel. At least not much control, "I've never done this either." You kiss him when he says that, "it won't be perfect, but that's okay." You whimper, "we'll have other times after this one." He says against your lips. You chuckle at his words, finally feeling more at ease. His words lighten everything for just a moment, but that's it.

"Can I touch you?" He asks against your lips.

You nod.

His lips leave yours and they move to your collarbone. He leaves you three pecks there, then he moves his face back to hover over yours again. It's then that you watch as he dips two fingers into his mouth and then down to your core.

You moan quietly as he rubs your clit in small circles. He responds to your moans with his own and he watches your face. Your eyes are closed and the smallest of pants and gasps leave the break of your lips.

"So beautiful." He whispers.

He gains more confidence when he watches you lick your own fingers. You meet his hand.

"Put them inside me." You tell him desperately.

Buck gulps and nods his head. He's never done this. He's watched porn before but actually doing it was different. He doesn't want to disappoint you.

He slides his fingers further down your folds, he gathers something of what's leaking out of you on to his fingers and then slides into you bit by bit with his pointer finger. Then he adds his middle finger.

He stretches his left arm above your head as he looks down at what he's doing to you. He gains confidence and his fingers gain speed and technique, making a come-here motion as he watches you unravel underneath him.

Your hand leaves your clit as his own palm starts to do the work for you.

"Oh, fuck." You groan. It sounds so filthy along with the squelching noises around you and Bucky knows he won't last long the second he's inside of you. He's taking pride in when he sees how he's giving you so much pleasure right now.

He quickens his movements, and you lean up on your arms, looking down at him work you. Your left leg widens a bit and you start to meet his hand with your hips as you feel your end approaching.

You don't care how loud you might be panting and the noise the mattress might be making over the bed. This felt unworldly.

You feel so close that you start overthinking it. What if you became too sensitive and it made the pain worst?

In a matter of seconds you have your hand on Bucky's wrist, stopping him.

You're still panting as he looks at you confused. You don't pull out his fingers, you just hold onto him. You both share a sloppy kiss.

"I want you inside me." You say against his lips.

Bucky keeps eye contact with you as he nods.

He pulls his fingers out of you and your hands go to his boxers.

Bucky hisses when his dick is free. He's already leaking precum and is as hard as a rock. This might be your first time but you know he might not last very long.

That's okay.

Bucky gasps as he feels your small hand wrap around him. It feels softer than you thought it would and heavier. His legs tremble over you as you stroke him once and then twice.

"Fuck,—" he grunts. You look up at him and god if he doesn't look absolutely gorgeous and perfect. He had his own hand on his abdomen as he looked down at you work him just right, "stop, stop." He whines, pulling you off of him.

He grabs your hand and folds your fingers with his. He holds it on the pillow next to your heard. Then he's over you again, and he looks completely enthralled by you.

Your right hand goes to his cheek as you lean up and kiss him softly.

Bucky's thumb from his other hand drags over your top lip.

This was it.

You feel him maneuver and then you feel it. His tip runs from your clit all the way down to your entrance and back again.

You can tell he's already so close and you're so apprehensive.

"I'll go so slow for you, okay? Okay? You don't have to worry with me. I gotcha." He reassures you.

You can only nod as you feel him prepare.

The first inch push isn't so bad. The second still isn't terrible but he can tell you're starting to tense up. You're gnawing at your bottom lip as you stare down. He stops.

"Hey, hey," he says gently, cupping your face, "your tense. Shhh." He wipes the tear that runs down your cheek.

"I'm sorry." You say.

"Don't be sorry. I just need you to keep remembering what I promised you." You nod again.

He waits a few more seconds and then continues. It's the fourth inch that does it for you and you find a shout getting stuck in your throat. It doesn't come out because you're biting so hard on your bottom lip.

"Shh, shh," he says softly, "I got you. I got you."

He keeps going further in and the sting you feel hurts bad, making you almost move up the bed. You gasp, your hand going to his toned abs.

"God." You groan.

"Almost there." Another and another and another.

You shake your head back and forth.

"Just do it fast, Bucky. It's okay." You tell him.

Bucky leans his forehead down on yours and nods.

You close your eyes tightly together until you feel him flush up against you. He starts with soft thrusts that make you cry softly, but after a few seconds, it starts to go away and you find yourself trying to find his lips.

He moans as you both share a deep kiss and as his hips pick up in speed.

He pulls away from your lips and he moans. It's so hard to keep it quiet when you know everyone outside could hear you. But the sound of skin slapping on skin and your little breaths are too noticeable.

He feels so good inside you, and the way he rubs your clit perfectly in sync with his movements has you feeling amazing.

His thrust get faster and harder and you can see the sweat on his chest.

"I'm sorry, fuck, I can't—" he whimpers, his eyes closing tight. His mouth opens in a gasp as he rams hard into you just once and he's grunting out loud.

You knew this would happen and it doesn't surprise you. It also doesn't disappoint you. You gave him pleasure and you were his first as he was yours. This was everything you wanted.

You let him spill into you and you run your fingers through his hair, pulling his face closer into the crook of your neck where he places little kisses.

He does something you don't expect.

He doesn't stop moving. You know he must be in pain from being over sensitive but he's on a mission for you.

He wasn't going to be a cliche first time where his girl doesn't cum.

"Come on, baby," he mumbles into your neck, his tongue dancing over your hot skin. You feel his fingers on your clit and he starts flicking you fast and hard, "come on." He repeats.

He's practically sobbing at this point as he works overtime to try and get you to cum and fuck, you do.

You cum hard.

You're groaning and moaning and gasping as you grab onto his head and back, eventually your left hand going to the pillow behind your head. You move your hips faster against his rod until you know you've coated him entirely in your cum. Your movements slow down as does his and all you can hear is your heavy panting.

"Oh my god." Almost inaudibly and more to yourself than anything.

He kisses your neck again. He lifts himself just slightly to pull out of you.

He lays down next to you, facing you, and pulls the covers over the both of you.

You're staring at each other, completely lost in the other.

He's trailing your features with his fingers and you're kissing his fingers as they occasionally pass your lips.

He leans forward and kisses your lips once more.

Then, sleep overcomes the both of you.

N E X T C H A P T E R

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes smut #Bucky Barnes fanfic #mcu fanfic #marvel fanfiction #winter soldier fanfic #modern au

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bunnymajo · 1 year ago

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Time to fill out that OC questionnaire but for Thistle this time!

He'll be in the @sonic-oc-showdown so be sure to give him a vote!

Name: Thistle the Tenrec

Species: Highland Streaked Tenrec

Home: Central City

✨How did you come up with the OC’s name?

Since he’s inspired by Amy I wanted to pick another prickly flower name. Thistle flowers can have a lot of negative connotations in flower language just as much as positive ones (aggressiveness, unwanted intrusion). If roses are known for being noble and lovely, thistles are more wild but pesky, they’re also hard to let go if you end up stuck by one. The image of thistle flower suited him the more I thought about it.

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

Same age as Surge.

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

Currently Surge and only Surge. He’s had previous partners but they usually don’t last very long. Current record is 1 month.

(The only tragic thing about Thistle is that he's not trying to be the worst boyfriend ever. He really wants to do good but he's too self-centered and stupid to realize that he's the problem)

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

Key Lime Pie, he likes anything tart but sweet.

💼 - What do they do for a living?

Works part time at a flower shop in central city, he’s actually quite popular with customers.

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

Flower arrangement and astrology charting. Loves reading romance novels and watching old classic movies even if he gets the meaning of them completely wrong. He’s good at baking and also spends a lot of time online on social media. He’s a jack of all trades and always ready to learn something new to get closer with people in his life. He’s here for you. What more could you want from a guy :)

🎯 -What do they do best?

Anything that’s considered traditionally feminine Thistle excels at. Baking, shopping, event planning, crushing your enemies. But even with all of that he’s incredibly good at finding information. Does his new crush have a favorite band? Well Thistle just doxxed every band member and knows the rest of their schedule for the next 3 months.

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Thistle likes doing anything that will get him lots of compliments and attention, especially if it’s something he already finds fun. He’s the type to get really wrapped up in tedious side project so probably mapping out his and Surge’s life together via astrology

Hates doing something that doesn’t serve him in some way, like doing volunteer work for strangers. He also isn’t much of an adventuring type unless it’s to chase Surge down, he’d rather not though, he’d rather keep her tied down close to him and they can live a cozy domestic life.

Running around beating up robots getting sweaty and gross and for what? just to protect the masses? Awful, blech, Sonic can have that.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

One time he and Surge accidentally shared a soda, therefore doing the incredibly scandalous “indirect kiss”. She vaporized the soda can to destroy the evidence and then punched him in the gut when he told her. He passed out for about two days.

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

His first relationship was an online one where the other person ended up blocking him and then publicly warned other people about his creepy behavior.

Thistle made one of those “am I the asshole?” posts about their relationship and everyone in the forum went “yeah, you were totally the asshole.”

Thistle deleted all his accounts and started over. He learned nothing. “It’s the forum that was wrong, they were all just jealous.”

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

There’s a few initial sketches I did to get the overall idea going and there’s a few minor tweaks but he’s basically the same design as when I started.

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

It was a bumblekast question asking about what a glitch Amy would be like and I liked the answer so much I wanted to develop it into a real character.

I really like aggressively-in-love characters like this in media actually, something about them being not shy at all about the person they’re in love with leads to a lot of funny or interesting situations, also since Surge is my favorite sonic character at the moment it’s fun thinking about how she would react to someone like this too. It’s a win-win situation for me lol.

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

The villain in a shoujo romance manga

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

Identifies as male, Pan, he/him/they pronouns

🙌 - How many siblings does your OC have?

Zero. Probably for the best because he’s terrible with children.

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

He’s an absolute mama’s boy when she’s around. (It should be noted that Thistle doesn’t really have a tragic backstory or bad childhood. He really is just like that for some reason.)

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

Thistle can be a lot of things I like about male characters (a goober in love, not afraid to appear “feminine”, a polite good boy, twisted priorities) and also be the worst person I’ve ever wanted to write thoughts for. He’s a very fun punching bag.

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

Probably too much haha, I don’t usually write a lot of actual terrible people so he’s a refreshingly fun rom-com villain.

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

It’s funnier if he stays alive imo. If Surge ever changes her ways in canon or something drastic happens to her he might lose interest in her and move on to his next victim, that’s about as close as I’d ever get to “killing him”. It would have to be a very drastic personality change though.

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

Whatever the fear of being unloved is.

To him, being loved by someone is the ultimate goal. “I can love so easily, why is it so hard for someone to stay in love with me? I must not be loving hard enough, I need to love someone who craves love just as much as I do. Yes, then it would be the ultimate romance” - is basically the rationalization here.

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

I mean probably Amy, not just for Surge’s sake, Amy will fight anyone she finds being a selfish creep in the name of love.

In Thistle's mind anyone who even smiles in Surge's direction is a rival. She's spoken for, who do they think they are??

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

A little over a year!

🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?

#hey hey it's that time again #thistle the tenrec #my ocs #sonic ocs

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sotogalmo · 3 months ago

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I SAW IT EARLIER BUT FORGOR TO SEND SO for flors bday !! sorry if it's too much dhfjsjfbf

💭 THOUGHT BALLOON — what is your oc's MBTI, enneagram, and/or other personality aspects (if known/interested in)?

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

🐷 PIG FACE — what is your oc's favorite animal?

💘 HEART WITH ARROW — what and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them?

🍝 SPAGHETTI — what is/are your oc's favorite food(s)?

🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms?

NAH NAH ITS FINE AMIA. YOU ARE SO SWEET AND KIND TO MEEE. GRRRRRRAAA, kiss kiss to amia/p (sorry I answered this- not on her birthday- grrrr. Still tho. You are so amazing amia)

💭 answer; I think her MBTI type would just be Captain SpaceBoy's; ENFJ- 7w6 in enneagram. Tho ... Euh. Have her personality thrown at you

💯 answer; I remember that @paperstarry asked me about this (along with 🐷 & ☕)- so yh. Three random facts. Okay! / Flor's rabbit antics are like. A stim for her. Flor is actually very heavily autistic coded;; autistic clownnn :3 — Flor moreso bakes then cooks actually, she likes baking cookies!! — Flor is a physical stimmer, and so she. Randomly mimics "glitching" movements!! She's very interested in games.... Or the idea of one (she possibly visits Lang for that)

☕ answer (adding this in for the hell of it); Her favorite beverage between coffee, tea, chocolate milk, milk, water, etc— I think she would be a.. chocolate milk drinker out of the example. But for the "etc" part would DEFINITELY BE THE RAMUNE SODA. RAMUNE SODA FOR THE WIN. RAMUNE SODA 🔛🔝‼️

🐷 answer (to which @chevalperd asked me along with 🍝 for my other ocs, but imma still tag them in this); favorite animal. I'd like to think it's the ones she acts like (a rabbit), but then again she could most definitely like much smaller animals. Like rodents! Hamsters, guinea pigs, rats, mice, etc. I think in a modern au, Flor would def buy a pet guinea pig

💘 answer; the most important to Flor, is what's stated in her personality— she values a lot of communication and connection and overall attention. That's why she has her band of friends, and a larger range of acquaintances.

🍝 answer; favorite foods! Oh. It's a hard pick, since I didn't really fully expand on what she ate before she went to ANAKT. But I do think that she likes a lot of meat (lamb, pork, beef, etc). She would most likely say that they taste better raw (but that's only because she was a scavenger and didn't have time to eat the finale of the meal but doesn't matter as she at least helped chew some things and made it easier for pet humans to at least eat that type of food, should their owners give it to them)

🤔 answer; the biggest thing you can always know it's certainly Flor, is the whole rabbit thumping. It's semi-iconic I suppose.

#ask #mutual #astoryofsuchwoe #alnst oc #alien stage oc #alnst oc: flor #alnst ocs #alien stage ocs #ask game #GOD. IM SO SORRY RYAT I RESPONDED LATEE

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possessionisamyth · 1 year ago

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Genuinely a shame that resident evil doesn't really go into food that much, but I also completely understand since the "food" you see being eaten 99% of the time is people and rot. However, this will not stop me from food related headcanons, so lets talk about eating traits for the recurring (3 or more separate RE appearances) cast:

Chris Redfield- Never been a picky eater. Before RE5, he pretty much let his metabolism do all the work along with his "stay in shape" workout regimen, so he ate whatever he wanted and most of the time it was junk food, fast food, and meals with a lot of bread and potatoes. When he started working out more, his diet shifted to eating more fats and proteins since they give him a steady flow of energy instead of quick bursts. It doesn't mean he's stopped eating junk food or eating out. His palette simply changed from eating bags of chips and a roll of cookies everyday to maybe a large bag or two of chips and a large pack of cookies that he slowly finishes over the span of a few weeks. Beer and water are interchangeable depending on the meal.

Jill Valentine- She's the pasta person that will use a fork and a spoon underneath to twirl her noodles before eating them. Loves anything covered in a good savory sauce, and she will tear bits of bread off to swipe the rest of her plate clean. She prefers chicken over beef and pork over tofu. Entered a hot wing eating contest once on a dare, and she lost, but she made sure to find out what hot sauce they used so she could keep a bottle in her pantry. She drinks a lot of water, and she likes the taste of it. Not a fan of tea unless it's iced and sweetened heavily. Otherwise not really a fan of sweets when it comes to candy or baked goods unless there's some tartness or sourness to it.

Rebecca Chambers- Her diet leans more into foods she doesn't need utensils to finish like sandwiches, wraps, tacos, and the classic pizza fold with thin crust. She has a sweet tooth, but this is mainly for drinks and hard candies. She loves soda. She doesn't like how gummy candy sticks to her teeth due to the texture. Baked sweets are okay as long as they aren't super sticky to handle, but she'll make an exception for things which have a heavy amount of chocolate. She has a bag of mini-muffins on her desk for breakfast in the mornings. People know not to take any unless they desire her wrath. She knows when Chris has eaten them when she see's a package of snack cakes and an apology post-it note in her drawer.

Barry Burton- Before the gun incident, Barry was the guy who ate primarily meats and very little vegetables unless his stomach was fighting him. After the incident, he opened up his palette more to show he appreciated the hard work put into the meal. Ask him what his favorite food is and his answer changes every time cause it's always what his wife cooked for dinner the night before. He's a dinner guy. He's either too tired in the mornings or too in a rush to go to work, so breakfast is a no-go, but dinners are spent with his family, and post Revelations 2, he cherished them even more. Only drinks water from the tap.

Albert Wesker- Eats expensive looking food because it has the least amount of mess during consumption, and is an ego boost to his god complex wherein everything has to be prepared exactly to his taste. If during his time with S.T.A.R.S they managed to drag him out to eat, he would get a drink and nothing else. He doesn't like limp vegetables no matter how much dressing people cover them in to compensate, and he hates greasy food. His taste towards sweet things are minimal. He enjoys sweeter cheeses like cream cheese or mascarpone, and he tried to like tiramisu, but he didn't like how soft angel fingers are. He will also only eat macarons with a dark chocolate filling sandwiched between. Neutral about water and enjoys teas and wines.

Claire Redfield- Was the pickiest eater as a kid. Hated it when the food on her plate touched, or the juice from one part of her meal touched the other. She had the special disposable plates where each part of her meal was separated so that she'd actually finish the food she was given. She was also disgusted with canned vegetables. As an adult most of those hang-ups are gone. She'll eat almost anything now, and she loves trying new foods from the places she travels to. Flatbreads are her best friend. Pita, naan, chapati, and so on, she can make a meal out of bread and butter alone. She still hates canned vegetables, but she buys fresh or frozen vegetables and incorporates them into her meals where she can. She also hates the taste of water. She'll go for coffee or tea first.

Leon Kennedy- Allegedly is relaxed with all foods except when there's one thing on it he doesn't want to eat. No pickles on his burger. No red onions in his guacamole. No sliced fruit in or on his cake. It's not even that he hates these ingredients or has a texture discrepancy. He just has preferences on where they should be and where they shouldn't. He'll put those same pickles on his club sandwich, or ask for red onions on pizza, and he loves a good fruit pie. He also eats so many of those pre-packaged fruit cups. Neutral about regular water but treats flavored sparkling water like a treat and sometimes hides it in his flask. It's a fun prank to play on Claire.

Ada Wong- Eats more vegetarian style meals, but is not a vegetarian. This isn't done on purpose or for any particular reason. Simply a lot of the meals she favors tend to have an equal amount of vegetables and grains to a lower amount of meat, and some cooks are much more scarce on the meat than others. This resulted in a palate shift where she's fine if there isn't meat on her plate. She's not a big fan of greasy, deep-fried foods, but her guilty pleasure is shrimp toast, and she only has it off the clock when she finds someone who makes it well. Her other guilty pleasure is cinnamon sugar donuts, and she has that more often as a snack to finish off her lunch. Neutral about water and has an iced coffee preference.

Ingrid Hunnigan- She likes rice more than bread and will eat several bowls of rice with whatever the main food is if they go together. Seasoned and spiced long grain rice or plain sticky short grain rice, she'll enjoy them all as long as it's prepared correctly. Loves eating tofu. She'll trade any meat for tofu except for seafood. She's the one ordering surf and turf or the dish with shrimp in it if the option is available. Yet, she cannot eat anything with a face. She doesn't care how pretty the presentation is, there shouldn't be a shrimp or lobster head on her plate when she gets it. She always orders dessert unless she's eating with others, and likes anything cherry flavored. Enjoys drinking water and has to drink water between her energy drink refills.

Thanks for getting to the bottom of this even if you don't agree with any of them! I'll gladly do more of these for any other RE characters if asked, and I'm open to playful debate/convo about the ones listed or not listed.

#resident evil #re #chris redfield #jill valentine #rebecca chambers #barry burton #albert wesker #claire redfield #leon kennedy #ada wong #ingrid hunnigan #headcanons

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kedreeva · 1 year ago

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Hello, good day/evening/whenever you see this haha, I had a couple bread questions if that's alright?

I love the idea of My Own Infinite Bread Beast. But I've also had sourdough bread from like the store (never fresh though) and I don't really like it that much cuz it's too... sour. Does fresh homemade sourdough taste the same? Or if it does, are there things you can add or change to change it that you know of? I know you've made cookies with it so I'm hoping it doesn't lol, but I wanted to ask before getting too invested in a bread project

The short answer is yes, it still tastes sour.

The medium answer is that it doesn't taste AS sour because most mass-produced "sourdough" isn't made from fermented yeast, it's made with vinegar and ascorbic acid.

Which means the longer answer is it CAN taste sour but it doesn't taste AS sour and it's not the same KIND of sour. The cookies don't taste sour because there's a thousand pounds of sugar, butter, vanilla/almond extract, and chocolate offsetting any sour taste. Bread doesn't have that, it's usually just flour, water, starter (which is flour/water + yeast), and salt. Some breads may have milk, eggs, butter, or even sugar in them, but a plain loaf is just 4 ingredients so there's not a lot to disguise the flavor.

That being said, real sourdough is "sour" because the yeast you're keeping ferments. It takes about a day for it to ferment when it's kept appropriately warm. You'll notice the texture will rise from a thick kinda lumpy "pancake batter" consistency to an air-pocked sticky thick stringy gluten-y texture, and then down into basically a liquid again, as it ferments after feeding. When you make bread, you're supposed to mix the dough using "active fed starter" which means you feed the starter, and when it rises and becomes that air-pocked consistency, it's active. This process can take anywhere from 2 to 8 hours, depending on temp and your starter's general activity level, but if you use the yeast as it STARTS to feed as opposed to when it's STOPPING feeding, you may get a less sour loaf.

The wetter your starter, the less sour it will be (if you mix it to be more soupy than lumpy). The longer you let it ferment before feeding, the more sour it will become. The kind of flour you use matters, too- whole grain flours will make a more sour loaf, all-purpose (unbleached) will make a less sour loaf (I've heard adding a little oat flour can also help, but I wouldn't feed it on oat flour). If you lower the cold rise time (the longest rise, usually something like 10 hours, so most people do it overnight or even in the fridge, but if you let it rise in a warmer area it will take less time and ferment less), you'll get a less sour loaf. You can add honey to your loaf to cut the sourness. You can add baking soda, which will lower the acidity and make a faster rise time (so less time to ferment). You can feed more often, which will cause less ferment or at least divide it so there's less fermented leavings. If you leave it for too long and you get a clear layer on top, that's alcohol. Try to dump off as much of that as you can before feeding (I mix it back in, because Sark likes it sour). When you make bread, using colder water can lower the sourness since the yeast won't be as active.

There's a LOT of things you can try, and see what works for you. Ultimately nothing may work if you just don't like the flavor. BUT if you've only ever had storebought and aren't sure you've ever had actual sourdough, it might be worth a shot. The starter isn't expensive (in fact you can get some from Carl's starter for the price of postage for an envelope), and you just need any kind of glass jar to keep it in. I like having two, so I can pour it into a new jar every day instead of getting crusty dried starter on the side, since you have to discard half the starter every day, but you don't HAVE to have two jars. And it doesn't even have to be good jars or anything. You can go to the dollar store and get whatever small but tall-ish vessel (remember it rises), and just cover it with plastic wrap and a rubber band while you're experimenting. If you have a mason jar (or your parents do or a friend does) or a glass cup or something it'll work for an experiment in "do i like this?"

Anyway, I hope you try it. Having a bread beast is fun.

#bread #asks #sourdough starter

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chicaotaku-fanfics · 5 months ago

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There's Three of You?! Pt. 11

New chapter finally, I'll confess that school has gotten in the way (not in the traditional way I expected), but it's getting sorted out. I hope that, by Monday, my school mess's fixed.

Warnings: foul language, might be some medical inconsistencies.

CHAPTER 11

Another normal day at the hospital, patients to see, charts to make, the usual. I had just finished with a consult and decided to take a quick break to grab a bite from one of the food trucks outside of the hospital. I managed to arrive right after Ethan, I had him, Reese, April and Connor in front of me, the last one being the first to notice my arrival.

“Korean Spanish fusion?” Asked Reese.

“Oh, yeah, the short rib and chorizo burrito is delicious” answered Connor.

“What if you’re a vegetarian?” The med student asked, I chuckled lightly.

Connor’s getting interrogated today. I thought, he gave me a stinky eye and I tried to contain my laughter.

“Then I would go with the tofu kimchi quesadilla.” He said, Reese just looked at him and placed her order.

“Can I have a garden salad, please?” She asked the server.

“Yeah.” The man answered, Connor looked at her with incredulity in his eyes, not believing what just happened.

“What? You said get anything I want.” She answered, I chuckled at the surgeon’s misfortune.

April got her order and took a picture of it. Ethan apparently decided in the last minute that he didn’t want anything, so he gave me his place on the line.

“Dr. Halstead, nice of you to join us.” Said Connor, I smiled at him.

“Why thank you Dr. Rhodes.” I answered sincerely. He turned to the side and spoke a bit louder.

“Hey, Will, you sure you good?” He asked my brother. I turned to the side to notice Will standing next to Natalie.

“Yeah, I brought something from home.” He lied through his teeth.

“No you didn’t!” I exclaimed, he looked at me as if I’d murdered his dog, I shrugged. “It’s the truth Will, sorry for being honest.” I added, then turned to look at Connor. “Don’t listen to him. I’ll get that tofu kimchi quesadilla, and for my stubborn elder brother, the short rib and chorizo burrito, please and thank you.” I said, Connor nodded and looked at the server.

“You heard the lady, man.” He said, the man looked at him and then at me.

“Coming right up.” He said.

“Thank you very much.” I said, then turned to look at Connor, moving to take my wallet out. “How much do I owe you?” I asked him.

“Nothing at all Lilly. My treat.” He answered, I side hugged him.

“You are too good for this world.” I said to him, he hugged me back, chuckling at my words.

“It’s $75.50 total.” Said the server, Connor walked over and paid with a $100.

“Hey, thanks a lot man.” Connor said, and at that exact moment, our orders came up.

I took mine and Will’s and walked over to him.

“Here. Eat.” I said to him, handing him his burrito, Will gave me a look. “Don’t look at me like that mister, just eat.” I said, he took the burrito reluctantly and gave it a bite. I smiled and started eating my own lunch.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Said Will, I just shrugged.

“I think I did. I saw your fridge earlier this morning, what were you gonna bring? Expored yogurt and baking soda?” I asked him, he made the motion to hit me behind the head.

“I’m going to kill you Lilly.” He joked.

“No you’re not. You love me too much to do it.” I said, then gave my quesadilla another big bite.

“What is that?” Will turned his attention to Natalie, and the tupper she had on her lap.

The hell is that?! I thought, looking at the stuff inside the container.

“It’s some cabbage kale thing. I promised my mother-in-law I would try it, so…” and she actually took a bite. Just a second later, Natalie’s expression changed, showing her disgust. “Oh. Ugh…” she added, making a face.

Will chuckled a bit, I was trying not to gag, so I turned to look the other way. I moved towards the garbage can, literally giving my quesadilla the last bite. I took a napkin and cleaned my hands and face.

Just as I threw my dirty napkin in the bin, my pager beeped, and Maggie came running towards us.

“Shooting in a movie theater. Mass casualties. About to get crazy. EMT four minutes out.” She exclaimed, and just like that, we saw the ambulances arrive, their sirens blearing.

“Looks like they beat those four minutes.” I said.

“Check that. They’re here.” said Will at the same time.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Maggie exclaimed. We all ran inside the hospital, sanitized our hands and grabbed gloves. “I need two” she added, some other doctors walked up to her and took the first patients.

“Another maniac going crazy in a theater. This the world we live in?” asked Will while walking towards a patient and putting on his remaining glove, I could only say one thing before focusing on the job.

“Unfortunately it seems that way Will. Now, less talking, more doctoring.” I said, he let out a little Halstead Chuckle® at my chosen word.

“Maggie! Trigger disaster plan, get ortho, neuro, walk-ins can wait.” said Ms. Goodwin, our chief nurse gave an affirmative response.

“Got it. What do we got?” Maggie then asked the paramedics as they rollen in the patients.

I had already treated one of the first patients in, a man with a dislocated shoulder, when in came Sylvie and Chilli with a woman and her kid, Connor and I went straight to them.

“Lucy Simms, 34, unresponsive. Flaccid, agonal breathing. Tubed her without drugs.” said the blond paramedic, Connor was already looking at her.

“Trauma 2.” said Maggie.

“The boy hurt?” Connor and I asked at the same time.

“He was never touched. Mom was literally a human shield. Dad's in the ambo behind us.” said Chilli, who had the boy in his arms.

“Let’s do this, Connor take the mom, I take the boy.” I said, moving away from the gurney so it could continue its path to the treating room, and extended my arms for the other brunette to give me the kid, she did.

“You heard Dr. Halstead. Lilly, take care of him until Dad arrives.” Connor said.

“No need to say it twice. Good luck” I said to my friend, then turned my attention to the kid. “Hey sweetie, I’m Dr. Lilly, and I’ll stay with you until Daddy gets here, ok?” I asked him with a calm and sweet voice, he nodded.

I went to the kids area with him and we started playing, I also made sure to include some of the other kids who were there. Many of them started asking questions to me about being a doctor, and I answered as honestly as a doctor could to kids without breaking the illusion.

Sometime later Maggie came over with the father of the boy, Max -as the kid introduced himself- hadn’t notice him, so I took it upon myself to help.

“Hey Max, look. Daddy’s here.” I said, pointing towards his Dad, Max looked up and a big smile made room on his face.

“DADDY!” he exclaimed, standing up and running to his dad, I smiled.

“Max!” said the man, I stood up to go to him. As soon as I did, all the kids started saying «bye» to me, as if they were members of a choir, it was so cute.

“Bye kids, behave, ok?” I said to all of them, they all agreed, it was adorable.

The parents all looked at me with relief and gratitude, all I could do was nod in return with a smile on my face. I walked towards the entrance to the ED and turned to address everyone there.

“Hi everyone, I’m Dr. Halstead. On behalf of the entire ED, I want to thank you all for your patience, and understanding, as well as your collaboration during this times of crisis.” I said to everyone in the waiting room. Most people nodded, other smiled, and then I heard both, my pager and Connor calling for me.

“HALSTEAD!” Connor’s voice made itself heard all the way to the waiting room. I think the way my expression changed was enough for the people to know that the day wasn’t over yet.

“Go be a hero miss doctor” said one of the kids, I coo internally. Many of the adults did coo at his cute sentence, I looked at him with a smile on my face.

“I will.” I said, then turned and ran towards my colleague and my brother. “What do we got?” I asked as I grabbed my protective glasses and a pair of gloves, already being near the gurney.

“17-year-old male. GCS six, multiple GSWs to the abdomen. Two large bore IVs. Tachy's at 160. Pressure's marginal.” said one of the paramedics.

“Baghdad turned over?” asked Connor.

“Yeah, it's all yours.” said Ethan, Connor and I looked at each other, then we nodded.

“ Reese! Stay with us.” I said, when I saw the girl in the hall.

“All right. On my count. One, two, three.” said Connor, we all lifted the board to switch it over to the bed. “All right, check for breath sounds.” as soon as one of the nurses had helped me with the gown, I did as told.

“This the shooter?” asked Will, as he was been helped with the same process for the gown. The paramedic just nodded.

“Don't knock yourself out over this one.” he said, I just looked at him.

This’s got to be a joke. He’s human, no matter what he’s done.

“Yeah, we got it from here, thanks.” said Connor with some heat in his voice, I mirrored the sentiment with the glare I gave the paramedic.

“Breath sounds bilaterally.” I said, just then one of the monitors started beeping rapidly.

“Can't even go to the movies anymore.” said my brother, I just wanted to slap him behind the head.

“Doctor.” said one of the nurses, now the monitor started to flatline.

Not good.

“No pulse. Reese?” said Connor. Implicitly giving the order to start CPR.

“On it.” she said, starting compressions on the patient.

“He's bleeding into his belly.” I said.

“We need to clamp the aorta to keep whatever blood he has left going into his heart and brain.” said Connor, I passed him the necessary equipment to do the procedure.

“You're gonna crack the chest here?” asked Will, just as Connor started doing just that, me helping him.

“Yeah.” said the surgeon.

“It's futile. What, are you just practicing your thoracotomies?” asked Will.

“Actually, I’m trying to save his life.” Connor and I said at the same time.

“Aw, the heart's empty.” said the surgeon.

“Pump the blood with the level one now.” I ordered.

“Give me the tubing, I'll run it through the groin here.” said Will.

“All right. Aorta's cross-clamped.” said Connor.

“Clock starts now. We have 30 minutes to find out where he is bleeding from.” I said.

“Call the OR, tell them that we're on our way up with an open chest and a gunshot to the belly.” said Connor, we both raised the rails on the sides of the gurney.

“Good luck.” said Will.

“I'll let you write it up in JAMA when he pulls through.” said Connor, I moved for the nurses and Connor to be able to leave. “Let's go.” he added.

I turned to look at Will as I was ripping of my gown, he did the same. As he also took his gloves, I slapped him in the back of the head.

“Ow! What was that for?” he asked, offended.

“Let me remind you, that no matter what he did, the boy’s a patient here. Our job is to provide care to patients. Don’t you forget it.” I said, mad at him.

After that literal shitstorm had passed, I learned from Will that Lucy Simps -Max’s mother- was braindead and the father had given consent to remove her from the ventilator. It was sad, knowing that Max, sweet and playful little Max, wouldn’t see his mom ever again. Suddenly, many people started cheering and clapping, I raised my head and turned to the commotion. It was the teacher who had shot the shooter at the theater.

“We need more guys like that.” said Will next to Maggie and me.

“Right.” said the nurse, not as thrilled as I thought she would be, but I understood the sentiment.

Something’s not adding up here.

#fanfic #one chicago #oc #halstead sister #will halstead #jay halstead #halstead brothers #fanfiction #connor rhodes #sarah reese #chicago fire #chicago med #chicago pd

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