#cicero please pay up

[plantphanta]

cicero skyrim the one and only 😔🙏🫶

SCREW IT

RB with a picture of your f/o and I'll give them a song from my 250 song playlist that they remind me of (appearance or personality)!

PROSHIP DNI >:(

[carmenized-onions]

Do the Thing! | Toilet Repair

logline; Today's itinerary: Fix the toilet, catch up with Syd, try not to cry when everyone asks you where you've been.

series history; Previous Chapter

portion; 7.1k+ (this shit got away from me man, idk what to say)

possible allergies; Negative self-talk (It's the Bear, babe, everyone's sad). I did no research on plumbing and am truly making it the fuck up-- I know for a fact I'm not using any word correctly and I simply will not be fixing it. Reader eats meat!! Specifically pork!! Your 'name' is 100% just Tony now.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'handywoman' and 'Miss' are said. Plus a chest reference).

you ever start writing and you just cannot seem to find an end so you keep going forever? yeah.

“I think my name is just Tony now.”

You sip your overpriced orange juice. You really have to fucking savour it, now a days. That’s like 25 cents a sip, and Syd’s treating you to this breakfast outing, so it’s not even your own wallet on the line here.

“You lose all sense of identity, in a restaurant.” Syd straightens her back, mocking her very own mechanical movements of whenever she steps in a kitchen. “I am Chef.”

This diner isn’t more than two blocks down from The Bear. It was probably your second favourite spot in this neighbourhood. Probably still is. Sitting in the back corner booth (your favourite) with Syd is nice but distracting. She’s been updating you on everything since the catering scene and her botched credit, and you’re absorbing all of it, you swear, it’s just hard to not remember why this was your favourite booth.

Not because it’s seats are the least worn in, not because it’s got the right amount of sun through the window without blinding you, but because of the company you kept here. You’re trying to not notice your own name carved into the table. Especially since it’s not your handiwork.

You laugh at Syd’s joke on time, thank God. No awkward pause. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are. Head, right?”

She nods. “It’s cool. It’s like, vomit-worthy stressful but also…”

“You wish you were dead when you’re there, but you’d rather be dead than do anything else?”

“Yessir.” She nods again, digging further into her pancakes. “I really fucking owe you, by the way.”

“You’re paying me off through breakfast.” You wave her off. “Plus, I was available and it was like maaayybe 5 minutes of manual labour, it’s nothing.”

“Y’know what?” She hums, “I think actually, you owe me.”

“Yeah?” You grin.” Please, let me clear my debts, Syd?”

She smiles, pointing her fork at you. “You owe me the fuckin’ Beef background I’ve apparently not unlocked. Everyone was talking about you after.”

“Good things?”

“Vague things. Shit made me even more curious.”

You laugh. No shit they’d be vague. What can they say? “When my dad was running the repairmen gig, Cicero or Fak would call him in—”

“Oh fuck.” She snaps her fingers, seemingly in realization. “Your dad’s the connection!”

“The connection?”

“Fak said he had a connection for our fire safety test shit, and then said he didn’t—”

“Ah.” You nod knowingly. “Dad cut the cord on his business phone when it transferred to me, didn’t really keep people updated. Whoops.”

She nods, taking another bite of her pancakes, speaking mid-chew. “You could’ve saved our asses way faster, and I’ll-I'll never forgive you, but continue.”

Snickering, you continue, “Well, they’d call my dad in, and then my dad would call me in as his like, like his fuckin’ Sous of Repairs. And shit broke all the time at the Beef, as I’m sure you’re well aware, so I hung out around Mikey and everyone a lot.”

“Ah. N’ then…”

“He fuckin’ died.” You laugh, because there’s no way to say it smooth, so you might as well say it bad. You stretch out your arms and lean back in the booth. “I kinda took a step back, after that, so we didn’t manage to crossover ‘til now. S’ironic that you’re the one that brought me back instead of an oldie, honestly.”

She desperately wants to ask more about Mike, but she can tell now is not the time, so she just lets it lie and moves on. “You stopped being an EMT to take up the handyman shit, then?”

“Yessir.” You nod, finishing your straggling home fries. “Just kinda made sense to trade off, and I didn’t want to see the family bizz die. Do I have to occasionally pick up shifts bartending to make rent during slow months? Yes. But I also don’t watch people die anymore, so that’s a win.”

“In a way, you’re watching people die still, just slowly.”

You bite down hard to stifle any semblance of a smile or laughter, deadpanning, just to see her squirm in awkwardness for a moment. It works with flying colours, of course it does. It’s Syd. She’s still Syd. You speak at the same time.

“Cause of the alcohol?” “Cause—Cause of the alcohol.”

You both break into laughter, she throws her napkin at you. “Can’t stand you, oh my god. Let’s go clock in.”

She pays your bill before you can try to sneak your card in, which feels all too familiar, and you’re off.

Off to fix an exploded toilet.

“How the fuck do you fix an exploded toilet?”

Your hands rub over your face, lifting your safety goggles for a second. Too fucking foggy. Too fucking sweaty. Plumbing never really was your biggest strength. You’re staring at the bane of your existence, and it’s the latrine. How far we fall.

“You good, Cousin?” You hear from behind. You don’t need to turn to know it’s Richie in the doorway. It’s a fair question, you’re sitting criss-cross in front of a toilet, head in hands.

“Yeah, Cousin, I’m good.” Your words are muffled by your hands. Fully not cousins. For the record. You would argue you're not even that close, but he'd slap you upside the head. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Can you like, get me a pen and note pad? I need to like, strategize an attack.”

“It’s not that bad, Cousin—” “It’s that bad.” “Just tape the—” “Fuck off with the tape!”

You click your teeth, staring at the gurgling porcelain before you— At least it’s clean, it’s just fucked. “I shut the valve and it didn’t do shit. I think I have to remove it entirely so I can see what’s going on with the underground pipe.”

“Heard.” Richie and you both know that his hotfix handiwork has absolutely contributed to this penultimate mess you’re in now, but you’re both letting that go quietly for now. “You charge by hour or service?”

“Service flat rate and then after two hours it’s by hour.”

He hums, knocking his fist on the doorway a few times before walking away. “Pen and pad, Chef.”

“Not a Chef!”

“Term of Respect, Chef!”

You tap your leg incessantly, groaning like you’ve got an 80-year-old body as you stand to your feet. Richie’s grown a lot. He wears suits now. Hasn’t even poked at you for vanishing. Though you have a feeling it’s coming. If not from him, from someone.

You step out into the hall, leaned against the wall with your arms crossed as you wait for your pen and pad. And now you just have more time and a better view to take in how much has changed.

Gutted. A few walls gone. Makes sense, you told Mikey he was getting a mold problem. He never listened. Seats are new. The booths are the all-around style ones now. Ritzy. It’s too good for this neighbourhood. Is that a good thing? Yeah, right? Despite the fact that The Bear should feel out of place, you feel out of place being in it. Could you afford to eat here? Could the people who work here afford to eat here? Syd said she’s not getting paid for the next few months, so at the very least, the Head Chef can’t.

“Strange?” Tina sidles up to you on the wall, wiping her hands on her apron. Completely knocking you out of your dissociative fugue state.

“Yeah.” You nod, a little too quickly, that felt judgey, you correct, uncrossing your arms. “It’s daunting, I think; to see it all at once rather than slowly built in. Like, I know objectively this is very cool, but—”

Tina hums with understanding. “Feels gutted?”

“Was gutted.” You nod. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it, it’s just, I dunno. Adjustment period, all that.”

“I needed a second too, but Jeff is good. Change has been good.” You nod like you know who Jeff is. “Carmen, I mean.” Your nod is now significantly more understanding. She smiles, you’re a little surprised to see Tina’s got a lot more insight than she used to. She pulled the thought of Carmen right out of your subconscious before you even detected it for yourself. “He’s good. You’ll see.”

You nod. You know the good she means is not Michelin Star Good. You already know that. He’s Mikey good. Person good. You clear your throat. “How’s Louis?”

“Good. Y’know, he’s getting to that age, getting in trouble. S’been a while since he’s had a good influence.” She nudges you. There it is. There’s the poke. The ‘where have you been?’ The ‘it’s been a year’. The— “Y’know, Chef didn’t come to the funeral neither.”

That one you didn’t expect, your head swivels to her hard. “Carmen didn’t go?”

His brother didn’t go? Oh, who the fuck are you to judge...

She nods, practically with her whole body, she looks more amused than anything. But like, mom amused. The worst amused. “You’re both the sensitive type.”

You cock your head at her, raising a brow. Smirking slightly. “Wow, Tina, I thought you changed too but you still talk your shit, eh?”

“I’m not talking shit!” She laughs, hands up in defence. “I’m just saying, you’re alike.” You hope that the laughter makes her forget the topic but it doesn’t.

“Where have you been?” She softens. She’s not asking to be mean, she’s asking out of concern. Why does that make it feel worse?

You tuck your hands in your pockets and retrain your eyes on hers, even if it feels bad. “Thought time and distance would heal all wounds.”

“Did they?”

Before you can answer, “Pen delivery, cousin!” Richie returns, triumphantly, with a pen and pad held high in the sky. He makes you jump for it. You elbow him in the gut, not hard. “Fuck off, Rich…” He keels over enough for you to grab it. “Thank you, chef.”

You turn back to Tina, who you now realize has spent half her smoke break on you. She nods to you, and then the bathroom door. “I’ll let you get back to it.” You nod in return. When she turns to walk away, you grab her shoulder.

“Tina.” She turns again. You should say something. Something vulnerable and thankful. Words of affirmation are not your thing. But maybe they could be, “If you end up with a dead plate—” Or maybe not.

She grins, and part of you is concerned by this, but she waves you off, giggling like she knows something you don’t. Already walking off. “You’re gonna be taken care of, Terry, don’t worry.”

This is a bad new nickname scheme. The fridge guy is just gonna end up being called ‘fridge guy’ if you take all his names.

It’s maybe three hours later. 11 am ish. You’ve finally put the toilet back in place, the pipes fixed underground— Which is a huge win of progress, the problem is, it’s just seemed to open the toilet’s ability to have other problems that need to be addressed. There’s a strong chance you’ll be here until you die. And even after that, this stupid toilet will still be gurgling, outliving you.

But you seriously have to eat something, so you scrub yourself clean, set your safety equipment down, and head out of the bathroom for a much-needed stretch of the legs— And to hopefully get a plate from Tina.

On your way to the kitchen, you’re stopped and walked backwards to a booth in the corner by Richie. “Hey, Miss, happy to serve you today, my name’s Richard but you can call me Richie, how’re you doin’ this fine morning?”

They’ve yet to open front of house, so you play along, taking your seat with a laugh. “I’m doing perfect, Richie, how are you?”

He nudges the air . “Ey, better now that you’re here, ah? Can I get a drink started for you?”

“Really gonna practice your set on me?”

He shrugs, still smiling. “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”

You hum, then rub your temples, the headache is setting in— Not cause of him, just been a tough morning. “Just your coldest fuckin’ glass of water, Rich.”

“Right away, Cousin.” He slips off into the kitchen.

When the door swings open again, it’s not Richie coming with your ice water, but Carmen— It’s your first time seeing him since the walk-in. When you came in this morning with Syd, it was Nat that gave you the quick briefing on the schedule and goals for today.

“Tony.” He hums, corners of his mouth just slightly upturned. The nickname has stuck. Goddamn. He sets the water down in front of you, along with a plate— Covered by a cloche—Or the silver lid thing, whatever.

“Carmy.” You only mean to mimic his tone, but then cringe. “Is Carmy fine?”

He pauses mid slide into the booth, sitting across from you. He seemed all cool and collected and is now suddenly extremely caught off guard. Already sweaty. “Y-yeah, I’m better, thank you—”

“No, I meant—” It is so difficult to hold back laughter. You deserve an Oscar.

You’re not doing great to be fair but like, still, Oscar worthy attempt.

“I meant like, like is the nickname okay?”

The horrors just keep piling on his face, and you can’t help but feel guilty. No shit he feels like he’s starting on a lower playing field here. You knew his dead brother, you know his Head Chef, your first time meeting him was at quite possibly his lowest moment and biggest mistake— Of which you had to coax him out of, and now he’s misunderstanding every innocent question you have for a inquiry into his psyche.

He clears his throat for objectively too long of a time. “Carmy is fine. Tony is fine?”

“I’m doing okay, yeah.”

Thank God, he laughs, awkward sure but objectively amused.

You nod down to the covered plate, smiling, “Fuck is this?”

He leans forward in his seat to get a hand over the lid. “I, uh. Made you a thing. As thanks or like, an— an apology.”

Ah. That’s why Tina was laughing about you getting taken care of.

He lifts the lid, and what is revealed, if you weren’t careful, would be enough to make you cry. Thankfully, the shock registers as uproarious laughter, one that Carmen cannot help but join.

“What the fuck?”

Pork brisket sandwich. Something that Mikey made for you, specifically. Because you said one time you were more of a pork fan than beef and he absolutely lost it. In a cute way, though. Said ‘Oh, I’ll make you fuckin’ pork, alright?’ You’re not sure if he won or lost the argument, because you did find it better.

“I, uh, we had some cuts left over that we weren’t gonna be able to fuckin’ use, and uh, Tina showed me this, this recipe card, last night.” He slides over the very same brisket recipe Mikey had written down. Little doodles of angry faces and Xs over pigs in the margins.

“He was so fuckin’ mad.” You snort, looking at it. “All I fuckin’ said was I had a preference!”

“In The Beef!”

“He asked!” You quickly defend, through laughter. “And it tastes fucking good. All he did was prove my fuckin’ point— And spent hours doing it. Were you here overnight for this, slowcooking?”

He shakes his head, though there’s a hesitation in it— So you’re not privy to completely believe him. He sniffs, swiping at his nose “I, uh, just came in early. Had to fix some shit anyways.”

He’s staring at the sandwich, then occasionally you, expectantly. You look at him with equal expectance.

“Well?” You start.

“Well?” He astutely adds.

You nod down at the dish. “Do the thing.”

“The thing?”

You pick up one half of the sandwich, but you’ve got no plans of eating until he satisfies this craving first.

“The thing Syd does where she explains why she’s proud of her dish and why I should care. I know it’s Mikey’s, but you clearly made changes.”

“Oh. Uh…” He was both expecting and not expecting this soap box. “So, followed the rub to a T— Well, with a salt bed, this time. Put it on brioche instead of the old shit. And I uh, added uhm—” He snaps his fingers, staring at the sandwich in your hand. “Added pickled red onion, for acid and sweet, and garlic confit. I’m—I’m happy with my spin on it.”

You whistle as a form of praise, he flushes with a glow of pride and is desperately trying to not show it. He’s proud because it’s curated, personal. Ah, he is Mikey good. You nod and take a bite, trying to control your reaction. Worst part about having Artists as friends (especially chefs): They fucking stare so hard when you’re taking in their work. And they’re over analyzing every micro expression. He’s no different.

Fuck. It’s fucking good. Is it bad that it’s better than anything Mikey ever made? Nah, that’s how he’d want it.

“Ah fuck, that sucks—” Is the first thing you say, and his face falls, “Expensive food is worth it.” Right back up. Easy to please. “It’s really good, Chef. Thank you. Did you try it yet?”

He shakes his head, so you push the plate with the other half of the sandwich— It’s brisket, anyways. You’ll be full by the end of this one. Portions generous. He looks momentarily hesitant, which is cute, but inevitably leans forward and takes the sandwich. He nods with each chew.

He hums when he finishes chewing, pointing emphatically at you, though his voice is neutral. “You don’t like something, though.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with it?” He stares at into the cross section of his bite. “Chewy? Texture?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” You’re quick to deny.

He shakes his head, hand over his mouth to hide the sauce on his mouth. “M’not gonna be hurt.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the dish, Carmen.” You take another bite to prove your point. Also you’re hungry. Two things can be true.

He zones in on the emphasis immediately. “It’s the plate, isn’t it? I told Syd—”

“Your tables aren’t bolted.” You interrupt, swiftly. Mouth semi-full.

“Huh?”

You put your sandwich down and swallow, taking your time with it. “Your booth tables.”

You knock on the pristine wood with the joints of your left hand. You swivel your body to look under the table, he follows suit, meeting you there. His left leg has been violently shaking, but he’s thought you wouldn’t notice it until now.

You put a hand on his knee to stop the shaking. He bristles, slightly, but you’re not even doing it on purpose. Your focus isn’t on him. It was making the table imperceptibly shift— Which, of course, you clocked. You tap your foot to the bottom of the table leg. No screws. “They aren’t bolted down.”

You lift yourself back up, moving your hand back to yourself in tandem. He stares at it for a little longer. How you noticed that, he will never know. Repairmen are a different breed…

“I just thought it was a weird choice. Nothing wrong with it, per say. Maybe you wanna test different layouts.” You shrug, taking another bite.

“The booths aren’t bolted either.” He adds, lifting his head up above the table, finally. “I don’t— we’re not gonna fuck with the layout, I don’t think.”

“Should get Fak on that, then.”

“Fak’s big-timing us.” You cock your brow, mid chew. He explains. “He’s focusing on hosting, f'now.”

You nod, swallowing, hand in front of your mouth so you can lick the sauce off your upper lip in non-humiliated peace. “This another job for me, then?”

“If you’ll take it.”

“If your fuckin’ toilet doesn’t kill me, I will.”

“How’s that going?”

You shake your hand so-so. “Ask me in two to three hours how it’s going.”

“Heard.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth. The stress is too apparent not to ask.

“How’s the second day open going?”

“I’m not in a fuckin’ freezer, so that’s a win.” Oh-ho, he’s acknowledging it. You were very comfortable forgetting that moment for his sake. “Thanks, uh, f’ that.”

You shake your head, shrugging off the thanks. You lift your last few bites of the sandwich to him. “You’re good. You’ve gifted me brisket. You relax since?”

“Not really.” He replies bluntly, taking a deep inhale. He pulls at his face from the top down, with both hands. Oof. Bad sign. “I think I’ll be good by tomorrow. Gonna get off early, tonight.”

“You don’t seem happy about that.”

“Ask me in two t’ three days if I’m happy about it.”

Back to work and this is taking so much fucking longer than it needs to take. Why is there tape there? Fucking Richie. Fucking Fak. Fucking Mikey. Godssake. Pipes are fixed. Water pressure is fixed. What the fuck is still wrong with it? What the fuck is wrong with you? Everyone is going to hate you if you can’t fix this. You’ve been here for like 5 hours and you can’t figure out what’s fucking wrong here? You’re nothing. You’re—

The toilet does you the favour of knocking you out of your episode by spraying you in the fucking face, soaking through the top of your jumpsuit. With a groan, you unzip the upper half and tie the wet sleeves around your waist. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

Maybe you just need a change in task for a second. Also, a new t-shirt, because your tank did not survive the waterworks either. This room isn’t the thing you need right now. You slip down the hall to the kitchen. “Who needs a coffee? Or water?”

There’s a chorus of orders, all of which sound like you’ve just asked ‘who wants a gift from God?’, which, you might as well have. This is what you like about being a handyman. The relief you bring. You just need a smidge of praise to get through the rest of this job. You’ve got this.

The small, but serviceable coffee machine in very back of the kitchen calls your name, but Richie sticks his arm out, blocking you from walking past expo up front.

“Hol’ up, Cousin, you look like a fuckin’ wet dog.”

“Well, what ‘ya gonna do about it?” You retort, despite the retort not honestly making any sense, you put your hands on your hips. “Do you want a fuckin’ coffee or not?”

He rolls his eyes, falling back onto the balls of his feet before walking off. “Ey, Sug, are those shirts still in the basement—”

You’ve won for now. You scrub your hands clean before getting to work. This is good. Oooh, Marcus has fresh coffee beans (that he’s willing to share!)— This is easy. You can already fix most broken things, but a machine that actually fucking works? Baby, you can make that sing.

Plus, the bartending gigs you’ve done don’t make you a barista by any means, but they certainly don’t hurt. Oooh, Marcus has syrups! Fuck it. Steamed and frothed milk. That toilet has you on your ass, you need to go above and beyond here. Make each cup personal. You need a win in the form of admiration.

You gather a tray of coffees (and a water for Sweeps, who is too fucking sweaty for a hot drink right now, so fair), all varying in milks, sugars, syrups, intensity. “Coffee run, I hand ‘em out, don’t just take! Corner!”

Ebra, to no one’s shock, likes his coffee black— But, and he’ll tell no one this, you just know it on instinct— He likes it a little too watery. “Good.” Who are you to judge? He likes what he likes.

Tina would take hers black for simplicity, if you let her, but of course you don’t. 2 sugars, foamed milk, chocolate and cinnamon syrup. “Too good to me.” It’s too worth it, when she says it like that and slaps your cheek. Balm of the soul.

Marcus, who watched you make these, did opt to let his imagination run too wild and added one of every syrup to his own cup, wanting to experiment with you. It doesn’t taste good. You switch it for a spiced coffee when he’s not looking. He’s silently very thankful.

After handing out a few more to the new cooks, you come up to Syd. “Take this one, take this one.” Then whisper, so no one knows you are displaying supreme favouritism. “It’s the one oat milk latte I made.”

She turns to you from her station, then darts looks over her shoulder like she’s making an under the table deal before grabbing it from you. She takes a delighted sip, eyes rolling just slightly in the relief of caffeine, she nods. “Fire, Chef.” Ah. This will get you through the day alone.

It also gets you through the willpower it takes to ignore Fak running by you to steal a coffee off your tray. Out of the corner of your eye, you point to the one meant for him— As if you didn’t make it for him, c’mon…

“How’s bathroom?” Syd asks, taking another long sip.

I’m going to fucking explode, not unlike your drainage pipe. “Needed a thinking break, but I’ve made a lot of progress. How’s kitchen?”

“Made a lot of progress. Auto-piloting through this prep.” She looks down at her cutting board, cracking back to it. “Latte helps, a lot, thank you. You should join for family, if you’re still here for it. Unless you don’t want more brisket.”

Fuck. She doesn’t think you’re so slow that you’re gonna be here until family, does she? “Yeah, maybe.” You look around, three coffees still on the tray. “...Where’s Carmen?”

She grimaces. Uh oh. The tension she glossed over at breakfast is still definitely there. She nods her head to the back door. “Smoke break. Or temper tantrum. I don’t fuckin’ know. Don’t tell him I said that.” You laugh, nodding. “You think a coffee would help—” “Please.”

“Corner!” Yells Richie, returning to you. He silently flicks out a shirt for you, holding it up proudly, ‘THE BERF’ stares back at you. You give it a solid five seconds to process before you say anything.

“Collector’s item...” You nod, tone sarcastically impressed. You pivot your shoulder for him to throw it over, hands too busy.

“That’s what I fuckin’ said!” He throws it over your shoulder. “No one fuckin’ listens, these days.”

You bite back laughter and nod, handing him his coffee. Hot. Dark. Two sugars. And, to his delighted surprise, a touch of cinnamon syrup. “Oh, fuck, missed your twists, Chip.”

You wince at what was a long-forgotten nickname, and so does Richie. Funny how remembering origins can do that to you. He’d just said it so instinctively, really. “My bad—”

“Chip is good.” You interrupt, rolling your shoulders back. And it is good, really. “It’s kinda—It’s kinda comforting.” It’s nice to not forget. He nods, and you give each other the ‘we are still so fucked, eh?’ smile before lovingly bumping shoulders as he returns to expo and you head to the back alley.

Carmen’s squatting, cigarette in one hand, creating a halo of smoke around him, and his phone in the other. He snaps out of his mental fog when the door opens, slipping his phone into the pocket of his apron like he’s got a secret to hide.

You hesitate at the doorway, maybe this is not the moment. “Sorry, Chef, I just wanted to offer a coffee? If you need air alone—”

“No, no, I’m good—” He’s quick to correct, then even quicker to correct himself. “I— I’ll take a coffee, I mean. You can stay, s’fine.”

He reaches for it when you sit next to him, but you pull the tray back to hand him the correct one. “Sorry, I—I like, did a thing, for yours. I dunno how you take your coffee, so I thought I’d do it weird.”

He takes the cup, eying it curiously. “Do it weird?”

“Do it like, like a Chef. Can’t make anything fuckin’ simple. The lot of you.”

He hums, amused, staring at the cup, then looks at you expectantly. “Well?”

“Well?”

“Do the thing.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Oh, fuck off.”

“C’mon, tell me why I should care.” He teases.

“Ah, fuck.” You sniff, oh to have your own words turned on you. Looking at the coffee in his hands, “I figured you’d like strong black coffee, but like, complex. So, it’s got like, cardamom and lavender n’ maple syrup. Shout out Marcus.” He smiles. “And then, I know I did just say black coffee but I wanted the aesthetic so I spooned foamed milk on top and sprinkled on some dried lavender.” You take your own cup in hand, putting the tray down. “If you hate it, we’ll trade.”

He pays close attention to your explanation. Man, his eye contact is simultaneously so soft and so scary. He takes a sip. Let’s it sit in his mouth for a second. “Excellent, Chef.”

Oh, if Syd’s ‘Fire’ could get you through the day, Carmen’s ‘Excellent’ will get you through the week to spare. You hide the way you beam by drinking your own coffee.

“How’re you doing?” It’s far too obvious that he’s had something heavy on his head all day, but you’re not going to say the quiet part loud, yet.

He takes a long time to respond. “I, uh…” And when he does, it’s weak. “I’m alright, yeah. I’m alright.”

You nod repeatedly, digesting the huge lie. “Ask me how I’m doing.”

He squints. “…How’re you—”

“Fuckin’ terrible, Carm.” You cut him off, putting your cup down next to him, standing up. You speak emphatically, gesturing with your whole body.

“I’m at my wits, Chef. Completely out of my depth. I fix the main pipe, I fix the water pressure, I triple check the tank, I fuckin’ power cycle the valve— I’m absolutely at a loss as to why it’s still gurgling— Why it shot water straight at my tits— Close your eyes, if you care, by the way.”

With barely any warning you peel off your tank top, you’ve got a bra, it’s fine. It’s very cute that he still looks away. You slip the new shirt over your head as you speak, muffling the words.

“—I’m wearing a shirt that says Berf, and the only way I can feel any semblance of not being utterly useless is by making coffees so good everyone has to praise me for them. And now I’m telling the fucking owner, my boss for the day all this.”

He nods, slowly. There is perhaps, not a single person in his life that has ever been this forthright. Someone he hasn’t had to over-analyze or dig into to figure out what’s actually going on. It is refreshing, terrifying, and for some reason, removing your walls have completely shattered his.

“So.” You lower your head to his level where he sits. “How are you doing, Chef?”

He takes a long sip of his coffee. Stews on the question before he spills his guts, calmly. “I’m sitting outside of the restaurant I started that I own, and my brother should be here, but he’s not and— And I was locked in a fuckin’ freezer on my opening night, which was my own fuckin’ fault— And the tape is wrong and the painting is stupid and that new hire did meth so now we’re down one.” He takes a deep breath.

“And we have Heinz instead of Frenchies, and it’s fine. That’s the fucked part— It’s fine. The ship did not sink without me— It went fine. Better, maybe. My problems aren’t fuckin’ problems. I’m just making it worse for myself— everyone. And I know Syd is mad at me, and I know my— My girlfriend? Is mad at me, and I know that I’m gonna break up with her tonight because I’m not meant to be— that.” He says the last part fast, more to himself than you, really. And then he finally looks back up at you.

“And I’m telling all of this to the person who saved me from hypothermia and a fuckin’—Fuckin’ meltdown, who probably thinks— knows that I’m a psycho.”

You take a beat before nodding, sitting next to him again, arms crossed. Silent. Contemplative. “I have thoughts.”

He nods, taking a drag. “Don’t pull punches.”

“Well, to start most honestly, we must remember, I love Syd. So, I’m not gonna mince about her.”

“Heard.”

You recall everything Sydney had told you at breakfast. The recap of how she got to this point. “Syd isn’t mad at you, she’s disappointed and distrustful.”

He grimaces. “That sounds worse.”

“It is.”

“Oh.”

“But in a way you can fix.”

“How?”

“Handle shit different. Actually show up to shit and make calls. Manage your priorities by urgency— Not by favourites. If I broke my fuckin’ arm and your ‘girlfriend’ had a runny nose, who are you taking to the hospital?”

“You can’t take yourself?”

“Bitch?”

“Kidding. Heard. What else?”

“You’re not gonna tell her I said this because she would rather die than tell someone she wants something.” You lean closer to him, peeking over your shoulder to make sure no one’s secretly come from the kitchen. You knock into his knees.

He takes another drag, short, choked. “Sure.”

“You were kind of a bitch about the menu.”

“The chaos menu? She said—”

“She fucking lied. She lied when she said it was fine, Carm, it does not take a psychic to read Syd’s mind.” You interrupt, taking a sip of your coffee. “She was so excited to get to build a menu, especially with—” you, “—a partner, and then you completely ditched her. And then you just made your own! Total control freak shit! Cut her out of the fun part of being head chef completely! You get to invent masterpieces and she picks out the best cheap plate? Fuck is that?”

He nods contemplatively, poking his inner cheek. “Yeah, that, that makes sense. That’s shitty.” He turns his gaze from looking ahead to face you, hand over the bottom half of his face. “What else?”

“You’re reactive.”

“No shit.”

“How long do you think you were locked in the walk-in for?”

He swallows, thinking. “Like… an hour?”

“It had been 23 minutes.”

“Oh.”

“You catastrophize, it’s a fancy therapy word,” You cannot help but be impressed by this white man writing down the word in his phone for later. “It means, basically, when something bad happens you blow it completely out of proportion into something it isn’t. Your opening night was definitely a bummer from being in a freezer— But be honest with yourself, would you have let yourself have a good night if you weren’t in there?”

“…No.”

“No. Which is also bad. Which brings me to my key point.”

He tenses up, preparing for you to rip into him further.

“You’re doing a good job, Carmy.”

He immediately swivels back to you, almost dropping his phone. Knee knocking into yours. “Fuck off.”

“I will not.”

“You just said I was a catastrophe.”

“Fully not what I said.”

“I read between the lines.”

“Carmen.”

You take a breath, putting your arms on your knees, bent over. “The restaurant is beautiful, your cooks are talented and they’re prepared— So prepared that they can handle 23 minutes without you. That’s a good thing. You’re threaded into The Bear— The ship didn’t sink, not because you weren’t there, but because you had been. Everyone had the tools they needed to succeed, even with Heinz, a Mid painting, and torn tape. And listen—” You take one last sip of your coffee. “You need to check your ego if you think you’re the first man I’ve coaxed through a panic attack while doing a repair.”

He laughs, half-heartedly. He scratches his nose. “Heard. Yeah, thank you, Chef.”

“I don’t know shit about the meth thing though, I really couldn’t tell you.” You smile when this coaxes a better laugh out of him. You’re considering a career in stand up exclusively for him because it feels like such a reward to hear it.

“And the girl?” He asks. Amusement tinging but leaving his voice.

You click your teeth, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Based purely on your hesitation to say girlfriend, I’d say yeah, probably not ready for a relationship.” You reach your hand out to his shoulder when he flops his head down. “But, just asking, is this your first relationship?”

He thinks for too long before nodding slightly. “First one.”

“First restaurant too?”

He nods again.

“Yeah.” You pat his shoulder before letting it go, opting to hold your cooling cup. “I know you’re a Michelin star fuckin’ big deal but like, me personally, I can’t name a thing I got perfect the first time I did it.”

There’s something in his eyes, when you say that. Something wistful, nostalgic, hurt? No. Something different.

“It’s not that I didn’t do perfect—”

“You’ll do better next time.”

He wrings his hands together between his knees. “Yeah.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Carm.”

“You’re good at that.” He sniffs, head down, scratching his nose.

“At what? Self-help?”

He exhales what just barely sounds like a laugh. “Kinda. S’just, when you say it, you say it in a way where I actually believe it.”

You’re getting the fuck out of here before they open for dinner. You’re not letting anyone down tonight motherfucker. The Berf shall prevail. Maybe a win here will feel like a win for Carmen, too.

You run the sink to wash your hands, as you’ve done before here— But since fixing the pipes and the pressure… Something’s… different. You pause your scrubbing, listening closely.

…

When the sink is running, the gurgling flow of water from the toilet stops. Huh. You stop and start the faucet a few times to verify this. Yeah. You stare for a long moment before connecting the dots, then punch the sink in realization.

“Fucking Mikey!”

“What’d he do this time?”

You twist around. Ah, other sibling. Natalie. Clipboard in hand, business ready. You take a beat before remembering to smile, nodding to the sink behind you. “He connected the tank flow to the toilet and the sink with one wire.”

She tilts her head, squinting. “Why would he do that?”

“I suspect to save water?” You spin around, kneeling down to look behind the sink. “I think the idea was to have the sink not function when the toilet is flushing. But, it uh, well, did the reverse, kinda. Toilet doesn’t function when the sink isn’t running.”

“Oh.”

“So uh,” You shut the valve under the sink. “Your water bill should go down a little after this, since it won’t be running into what is an essentially a second trap pipe.”

“Oh!” Did she get what you said? No. But she doesn't need to. She heard ‘bill should go down’ and that’s really all she needed. “Thank you!”

“Not a problem. S’my job.” You stand, shutting off the valve to the toilet as well. As you kneel down to work again, you feel her gaze burning into your back. You don’t turn to face her. “You have questions.”

“Oh, ah… Am I so obvious—?”

“Yes.” You’re too quick to answer, unbolting the wires where it attaches to the toilet and the ground. You sniff with a panicked, “Ah, uh, it’s endearing.”

She’s quiet, for a moment. She doesn’t ask you what she actually wants to ask you, and you know that. “Well, I’ll need to exchange info for your invoice.”

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout that, your brother already covered it.” You stand once more, before going to the sink to undo it’s valve, you fish through the deep pocket of your jumpsuit, pulling out a crumpled business card and handing it to her.

“But it’s good to have my info on hand, for sure. It’s ah… Kinda old.” Kinda is an understatement. Your dad’s name is still on it, scribbled out in pen and replaced with yours. The dead business line is also scribbled out in exchange for your personal cell.

“It’s uh… I usually only work for friends and family, these days, so I’ve kinda stopped trying to keep up appearances.”

She smiles at it. Thank God, she finds it charming and not sloppy. She tucks it into the clasp of her clipboard. “That’s fine, we are friends and family.”

All you can do is nod, pivoting to the sink. There's a beat of peace.

“Didn’t see you at the funeral.”

Ah. There it is. For a Bear, she sure knows how to poke one. You stutter in unscrewing the bolt.

“Would’ve been nice to meet you, then.”

You clear your throat, it's strangled. “Yeah, I think I was trying to avoid introductions, honestly. Grief comes in different ways, eh?”

“Does it?”

“Mine does.” You swallow, unbolting the wire. With it free, you can just yank it out of the wall. God, forgive your brain, but Mikey was right, she does like to fight. Too bad you don’t.

She just hums in reply, watching you pull the wire from the wall. “You’re a real lifesaver.”

Fuck. Fuck. Lifesaver? Is she fucking with you?

“That toilet sprayed me right in the face, yesterday. And you saved Carmen.” There’s an amused lilt to her voice. She’s not fucking with you. “There’s something about a handywoman that Fak cannot match.”

You can hear a faint ‘Hey!’ through the walls. You laugh through an exhale.

“Again, s’my job. I do my best. Did uh, what was it, Terry come by for the walk-in? I wasn’t looking when I was there.”

You sort through your tools, deciding caulking the holes closed is probably the best option.

“He came over basically overnight to fix it, bless him, still don’t know his name.”

You laugh, it’s a little strangled. So Carmen did stay overnight. He must’ve. You smooth out the caulk with your thumb and a palette knife. Blending it into the grout as best as you can. “Good. Good.”

You dust yourself off. Standing. “Well. That’s uh. That’s my job done. Carmen asked me about—”

“Bolting down the booths?” She nods, checking the time on her watch. There’s not enough time before lunch to do it now. Plus you don’t have the screws. “You’re free to come by in the morning tomorrow—”

“But?” You interrupt, throwing your tool bag over your shoulder.

“But?”

“You said free like you’ve got a preference, what do you prefer?”

She chuckles, slightly. There is something about you that feels familiar. “If you could come after close tonight around 12, that would be nice—”

“It’s done. I’ll be there.”

“Lifesaver. I'll give you the code.”

Fuck.

Always gotta give the reader/mc some sort of mysterious background that even you don't have all the info on. Always.

Hehehehe, again, we're slowing this burn so much. Strangers to Friends to lovers but they're both so comfortable in friends it's hard to move !!

Forewarning, btw, if you've already sunk 10k worth of words into your brain for me (thank you!! I hope you've enjoyed!!), I've never written smut before and I feel like I probably will not build up the courage to do so by the end of this series, but I could prove myself wrong, I dunno. But warning in case that's your thing!! I might blue ball you babe!!

Pretty please tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my Berf shirt. Collector's value!! Thrown away!!

Next Part

[ciaomarie]

Part 5: What Then?

It's finally Sydney's one year work anniversary! A little slice of fluff to tide us over. Quick summary of the last 4 parts- Its been about 5-6 months since The Bear opened, the slowburn is slowburning,, and Carmy wants to make Syd an shareholder. Please excuse grammar/spelling. My contacts are fizzling out.

Sydney woke up with cheerful expectation before her alarm rang. Today was her work anniversary or “workversary”. A year ago, she strode into The Beef praying that this was her chance to make something great with one of the best chefs in the industry. Then in a couple short months The Beef had closed, the process of The Bear began, and since it’s opening her hopes of creating lifelong memories for people and of obtaining a star seemed possible. The dream was becoming more concrete every day.

She got ready eagerly and grabbed the garment bag with her freshly dry-cleaned custom chef’s coat. More than just the significance of the day, Syd felt like something special was going to happen. Carmy had brought up this anniversary almost every day for the past week. Obviously, he was hiding something, and she was ravenous to know what it was. She tried every truth extraction tactic she could think of, from feigning nonchalance to making him a gourmet peanut butter and jelly sandwich, to shameless pouting. The last almost worked, but Richie walked by interrupting her performance. Carm snapped out of her spell and from that moment refused to hint about today. Richie teased her ever since and even last night he left a voice note impersonating her honeyed murmur “Carmy, pleasssseee tell me…I’d wouldn’t hide anything from you” followed by retching noises.

Oh, well. She liked good surprises.  

The morning was uneventful, but during staff lunch Carmy announced that it was Sydney’s work anniversary and Marcus brought out a sublime vertical carrot cake for everyone. He even made an additional small cake for her to take home and share with her father. It was so divine that if the cake was all she got, she would have been thankful, and she told him as much.

“Marcus, you are incredible! If you ever need a kidney, just make me this,” she moaned.

“I’ll remember that chef” he answered scratching his neck and bashfully ducking back into the kitchen. His crush on her was mostly snuffed out the night of Friends and Family, but occasionally those old feelings resurfaced.

As Sydney reached the peak of a blissful sugar high Carm asked her to join him in Natalie’s office. First a cake and now the mystery reveal!

They asked her to take the seat of honor, aka the comfortable chair, behind the desk. Nat looked pleased and relaxed, while Carmy was harder to read. His expression was a mixture of agitation and gladness as he drummed his fingers on his knee. For a moment they sat in silence.

“What is it?” Sydney blurted.

“Carm, tell her!” Natalie ordered with an exasperated smile.  

Taking a deep breath Carmen gushed forth,

“Sydney, I don’t even know where I’d be, where The Bear would be, without you. You put in a crap ton of hours without pay during the reno, you kill it in the kitchen every day, we created the menu together, the staff respects you, you kept everything running when I was sick and…and…we want to give you a share in the restaurant.”

Sydney slumped back in the chair, speechless and gazed at them her pupils dilated like saucers.

Natalie went on to explain further, handing her a contract.

“If you accept, your share would be equivalent to Carm and I. Of ‘course none of us will see additional income until we pay back Uncle Cicero, but we didn’t want to wait to make it clear that you are essential to The Bear, to our family.”

Carmy held his breath. He had been elated about this for days, but now he doubted. Yes, Sydney wanted a star, and she loved the work, but would she want to be tied to The Bear, and by extension to him?

Sydney sat up, clutching the contract, and shook her head in amazement.

“You’re serious? A share? An equal share?”

“Yeah, of ‘course” Carmy replied, his ocean tinted eyes imploring her to believe it.

“Okay” she conceded softly, her vision blurred with tears, and she stood up to embrace her now legal partners.

Natalie swooped in first with one of her famous hugs and whispered, “Thank you.”

Then Carm overwhelmed with relief pulled her close, his lips slightly brushing her cheek.

Just then someone tapped on the door and Natalie opened it. It was Uncle Cicero eating a slice of Marcus’s cake.

“Hey, Uncle Cicero, to what do we owe this pleasure?” Natalie enquired.

“Well, my lawyer said he sent the contract over this morning, so I just wanted to officially welcome our new partner to the business and to the family! Sydney you’re a class act and this one couldn’t have picked better,” Uncle Cicero answered with a wink at Carmy. Then he beckoned for Syd to give him a hug, which she did her face hot with a mixture of happiness and self-consciousness. She felt like she was an honorary Berzatto.

“Well, I got to head out. We’ll talk again soon Sydney,” Cicero said warmly and beckoned Carm to follow him.

As they walked through the restaurant and out to his car, Cicero praised his nephew for making The Bear a success so far, raved about the cake and most importantly for making their monthly installments. Then he said something very strange.

“Carmen, you’re doing this right with that girl. Wise to get the business side squared away first. Oh, and I got a ring guy, he could get you a good deal.”

Carmy was jolted from the hazy cloud of contentment that enveloped him since Sydney accepted the offer.

“Why would I need a ring guy?”

“Hey, I know young people do things differently these days. Some wait for years, but when you’re ready to get engaged I got a connect.” Cicero explained.

 “Well, uh, Sydney and I aren’t dating,” Carmy responded with a shade of longing in his voice.

“You broke up!?”

“We’ve never dated.”

“Then who were you seeing right before the restaurant opened?”

“Claire.”

“Who’s Claire?”

“She was from our old neighborhood; It didn’t work out. I was Alex Gonzalez during a lot of the reno. Why did you think I was dating Sydney?”

Cicero cocked his head, scrutinizing Carm with the intensity of an owl. That look would make Mike Tyson falter.

“Why do you think I thought you two were dating?”

Carmy blushed with a crooked smile, rubbing his chin.

Cicero sighed, got into his car, and rolled down the window.

“Don’t overthink it nephew. I could’ve been married to the love of my life if I wasn’t such a know-it-all manichino (dummy) in my youth.”

Carmy blinked, confused.

“But you are married.”

“Yeah, and she’s great. Not the love of my life though.”

With those words Cicero waved and took off.

Carmy stood for a minute to clear his mind before heading back inside. He knew Sydney was probably recovered from shock and waiting for him with dozens of questions about their new arrangement.

Also, would another hug be out of order?

[littlexscarletxwitch]

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗶𝗻 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮𝗺𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵

paring: amy march x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, headcanons, friends to lovers, secret relationship (?), period piece

warning(s): grammatical errors, not proofread, unedited

word count: 1.9k

note: Amy has been in my mind the last couple of days so i decided to finally write this idea and I got carried away. I hope it doesn't flop but I feel like it's going to flop :( I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Hope you enjoy! <;3 (Also "jealousy" part 2 is currently in the works since a lovely person asked for it)

requests are open! + check my rules here <3

Your older brother was best friends with Laurie. Meaning you were always around him. Laurie was like a second brother to you. 

It was always the three of you, until Laurie met Jo. Then it was just you. 

Both Laurie and your brother were very fond of her, so the three of them became an inseparable trio. 

You didn’t mind, of course, because they were always there if you needed them. But the best part of meeting Jo was meeting Amy March. 

Your brother, Laurie, Mr. Brooke and you were all present when she came to the Laurence residence with a wounded hand. 

“Sit down,” Mr. Brooke said. “Sit down, Laurie,” you could sense the annoyance in his tone. He was clearly tired. “Latin is a privilege,” he continued. 

You honestly weren’t pay to much attention to them, your book was more interesting than listening to Laurie being lectured about the importance of latin. 

“Please, you have to learn this. I can’t afford to lose this position. Just return to the Cicero–”

“There’s a girl out there,” Laurie cut him off, catching everyone's attention. 

“What?” your brother asked in disbelief, standing up next to him. 

“No, there’s not,” Mr. Brooke tried to catch their attention.

“Yes, Mr. Brooke, there’s a girl,” he insisted. 

“No, there’s not.”

Laurie and your brother moved so you and Mr. Brooke could see that there was in fact a girl out there. You could see she was pacing back and forth, tears running down her face, and she was holding her hand. 

“Oh, there’s is a girl,” Mr. Brooke said. 

“That’s a girl,” your brother confirmed. 

The four of you opened up a window and stuck your heads out. Laurie called out to her. 

“Hello there. Are you hurt?”

“I’m Amy.”

“Hello, Amy. I’m Laurie.”

“I know. You brought my sister back after the dance,” so that was Jo’s little sister. “I would’ve never sprained my ankle. I have lovely small feet, the best in the family. But I can never go home again because I’m in such trouble,” she cried out. 

Your heart shrunk at her words, she was having a really hard time.

“Look,” she held her hand up. You could see she had a cut there, it didn’t look too deep though. “Mr. Davis hit me.”

She was then brought into the house and Mr. Brooke put on a bandage on her wound. Amy was looking around the place, the four of you looking at her every movement. 

She gasped, “Tell the servants I want this painting purchased immediately!” she said in a funny tone, which made you chuckle. A small smile appeared on her lips because of your reaction. 

“Amy! Are you in there?” 

“Meg! My hand. Look.”

Jo was trailing behind Meg. Laurie's eye’s immediately found her.

“What richness,” you heard Jo say. 

Meg, the eldest, immediately made her way towards her little sister. 

“It hurts so much,” Amy complained. 

You heard Jo talking to Laurie, your brother soon standing next to his friends. But your eyes were still on Amy. 

“What did you do?” Jo asked Amy, you could tell she was annoyed by her little sister. 

“Nothing. I did a drawing, and then Mr. Davis hit me,” she explained. 

But Jo was, once again, distracted by something else in the room, a painting. Laurie’s grandfather’s painting. 

“Jo, we do not compare grandfathers,” you heard a soft voice say. 

Margaret March and Mr. Laurence entered the room. 

He gently patted your back, before making his way to his grandson, your brother and Jo. 

The March woman were now discussing Amy’s education, giving that Mrs. March decided that her daughter wasn’t coming back to that school. 

“Yes, women being taught at home is more proper, I believe. Take Y/n for example,” Mr. Brooke said. 

You discretely rolled your eyes at him, but Amy saw it and sent a smile your way, making your cheeks go red. 

“Only because schools for women are poor,” Meg fired back. 

“Indeed. Quite right,” you could tell he was nervous just by talking to the brunette. 

“I wish all the girls would leave this horrible school and that he would die.”

You chuckled at her words, earning a stern look from your brother. So you coughed trying to divert the attention from your reaction. 

“You did wrong. And there will be consequences,” Mrs. March insisted. 

“I didn’t. I didn’t even do anything. I just did a drawing.”

“Thank you so much for taking care of our Amy,” Mrs. March said to Laurie and your brother. 

“Oh, yes of course.”

“My girls have a way of getting into mischief.”

“Well, so do we, ma��am,” your brother said, a grin forming on his lips. 

“Then one of you will run over and we’ll take care of you.”

“Please, and come over whenever you’d like. Invite your sister Beth as well,” Laurie said.

“Yes! Beth would adore the piano,” Jo said, jumping out of the couch, making Amy gasp in pain when Jo touched her wounded hand. 

“Is she the quiet one?” Mr. Laurence asked.

“Yes, that’s our Beth.”

“Tell that little girl to use our piano. I’m sure Y/n wouldn't mind, right Y/n?”

Mr. Laurance snapped you out of your thoughts, forcing you to look away from Amy. 

“Not at all,” you smile at the March family. 

“And Jo, borrow whatever book you’d like,” Laurie added.

“Can I come look at the painting?” Amy asked. 

“Yes.”

“Yes!” 

You and Laurie replied at the same time, your tone showing more excitement than his. 

“There’s also a lovely greenhouse,” Mr. Brooke said, smiling at Meg. 

“We must go. Girls.”

The room suddenly was filled with all the girls talking at the same time. Before walking out the door you heard Amy shouting goodbye.

“Thank you for my hand! It was nice meeting you, Y/n!” she said, raising her hand and flashing you a smile, making your heart pick up its pace.

And ever since then, the two of you were attached at the hip. 

Laurie and you were admitted to their little club. They weren’t quite sure about Laurie, but you convinced them that the two of you would be the best members.

Everytime Jo and Beth would come to the Laurence residence, Amy would tag along just to see you. 

The two of you would spend the entire day together. She would tell you about painting, you would tell her about the book you were currently reading. 

Some afternoons she would convince you to model for her and she would draw you.

But it was just an excuse to stare at you. 

In time, the friendly touches and stares became something else. It wasn’t friendly anymore, it was something deeper than that.

The two of you would sneak into the woods and have some alone time, somewhere where you could hold hands without having to hide or where the two of you could give eachother little kisses away from the public eye. 

Neither of you quite understood what the two of you were doing. You both knew that it felt right and just went with it. 

When Amy went to Europe you sent her letters, expressing all your love for her, how much you missed her. But you never signed them with your actual name, you would use a different one in case someone were to find them and read them. 

Amy would write back, and tell you all the amazing things she’d been up to, tell how much she missed you as well, and how much she loved you. 

Later on, you accompanied Laurie to Europe in hopes that you would see her again. And you did. 

Laurie and you were walking when all of a sudden you heard yours and Laurie’s name being called. 

“Y/n! Y/n! Y/n! Laurie!” she shouted, getting off the carriage and making her way towards the two of you. 

“Amy!”

She hugged you tightly, trying to show her love for you. The truth was she wanted to kiss you but she couldn’t with all those people, Laurie and her aunt looking. 

“My, you’ve grown so much,” Laurie said.

“You look beautiful, Amy,” you smiled at her with loving eyes. 

“You wrote you’d meet me at the hotel.”

“We couldn’t find you,” you were holding her hands. 

“You didn't look hard enough,” she said, holding back her smile. 

“Well, maybe we didn’t recognise you, ‘cause you’re so beautiful now,” Laurie said.

“Oh, stop it,” she playfully rolled her eyes at him 

She asked about Laruie’s grandfather, about your brother, about what the two of you were up to.

“I couldn’t believe Jo turned you down. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, Amy,” Laurie said, a small smile on his lips.

“Amy!” her aunt called out to her.

She got in the carriage again, Laurie leaned inside to kiss Aunt March's cheek. 

“Hello, Y/n,” she said. Aunt March thought you were a decent young lady and actually liked you.

“Hello, Mrs. March,” you smiled at the lady.

Before saying goodbye Amy invited you and Laurie to a New Year’s eve party. 

“See you, Y/n!”

“Later, March,” you replied. Watching as the carriage moved away. 

When the three of you came back because of Beth’s funerals. Your brother noticed how you felt around a certain March and decided to ask you about it. 

“I’m sick, am I not?” tears running down your cheeks as he now knew your truth,

“No, Y/n. Loving someone could never mean you are sick,” he hugged you tightly, afraid that you would break into million pieces

The both of you stayed there, holding onto each other. 

“You know,” he broke the silence. “I’ve always loved Amy,” you looked at him, confusion writing all over your face. He chuckled at your reaction. “No, not like that, silly. Not like you love her. What I’m trying to say is that, maybe I could take care of her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know how rich our family is. She would be settle for life, and if she doesn’t want to have kids then that’s okay.”

“You’re saying you will marry her?”

“I’m saying that...” he carefully thought his next words. “Yes, I would be marrying her. But only for you. On paper we would be together but it could be the perfect opportunity for the two of you to have your chance together.”

“Would you do that for me? For us?” your eyes were watery once again. 

“You know how I feel about marriage, I don’t like it. So I would gladly marry Amy if it means one of us gets to live their happy ending.”

“But what if you fall in love and you do want to marry her?”

“If that happens we could figure something out later. But you should talk to her.”

“You’re dead serious about this?”

“Dead serious, Y/n. Now go and tell her.”

So you did. You told her your brother’s stupid plan. 

You thought she would laugh in your face, but the only thing she did was kiss your lips. 

It was so intimate and so perfect. It felt as if the two of you were promising to live together for the rest of your lives. As if things should always have been that way. It felt like the start of something new. 

“I can’t wait to marry your brother,” she joked before connecting her lips to yours once again.  

(Y/n’s brother understood how she felt because he felt the same way towards a special someone. No, it's not Jo. Let me know if you guessed it.)

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

[carmybearzattos]

Post the adhd headcanon justifications PLEASE

ok so a lot of carmy’s behaviours that i’m gonna list here can also be symptoms of anxiety and ptsd, there’s a lot of overlap and also people with adhd are more at risk of suffering from anxiety and ptsd too. on top of that he’s also grieving so in my view he’s just got his horrible mix of all this stuff going on which is fun! sorry carmy

he got shitty grades at school, and specifies that this was because he couldn’t concentrate, but when it comes to cooking, something he’s really interested in, he can completely hyper focus on it with such an intense dedication that he gets *extremely* good at it and neglects his own well-being in the process. when it comes to syd’s business plan, and the IRS stuff that could cause sugar to lose her house, he struggles to focus on it, despite the fact that he knows how important it is. he prioritises the wrong stuff too, focusing on getting fresh ingredients for the beef and fixing up the menu and the way the staff work, instead of the glaring financial problems.

he’s super restless and fidgety, always on the go, fiddling with his spoon. he’s impatient with people and loses his temper really easily which points to a problem with regulating emotions. he’ll fly off the handle, and he’s bitter and spiteful about syd getting a good review. he throws things, he smashes stuff up, he gets in people’s faces and then regrets it later.

he’s impulsive and does stuff without thinking about the consequences. he hires syd without consulting anyone, and isn’t actually in a position to pay her. he organised the ballbreaker tournament to bring in money in spite of the fact that the restaurant wasn’t capable of handling the crowd (side note: he’s so proud until richie tells him off for it and i find it so adorable). he owes money to the IRS and to cicero but he’s gonna use his money to renovate his restaurant instead bc why the fuck not. he jumps in without thinking to break up fights and gets himself hurt and has done this as a little kid.

also the rejection sensitivity! of course it’s natural to be upset when mikey cuts him off, but carmy takes it really really really badly. he’s been rejected and his whole world has ended, it causes a complete downward spiral and he sees the rejection as caused by a flaw in himself. that if he can do something to make mikey proud then it’ll fix things, but it never does, so he just carries on constantly feeling rejected and not being able to cope with it. he’s got extremely low self-esteem and holds himself to very high standards, and uses cooking to seek approval. he wants mikey’s approval, he stuck it out in shitty jobs because he likes when people think his food is good. he’s got problems in his other relationships too, struggling to make friends at school, and cutting people off and withdrawing from everyone. socially he gives up, but professionally he works to become perfect. i remember jeremy once saying in an interview that carmy is very all or nothing and feels like if he doesn’t get what he wants it’ll basically kill him.

also i was chatting with @carmensberzattos about this and she pointed out when he just gives up on his play on the panettone, which seems like classic adhd “this wasn’t perfect immediately so i’m giving up on it”

i also think mikey probably had adhd too, but for him it presented more as him being loud and boisterous, and it also puts you more at risk of struggling with addiction.

sorry this became an essay 😭

[duxfemina]

Not the original anon but reading your answer to the safety on road ask was so fun!

If you have time, could you please rank the following ancient Romans based on how good of a podcast they could produce?

Cicero, Julius Caesar, Brutus, Mark Antony, Cassius, Octavian, Agrippa, Catullus

Cicero would be the first century Joe Rogan, if you define a "good" podcast by it's popularity then definitely he's successful. If you want accuracy and quality maybe look elsewhere but regardless it will be considered entertaining usually

Julius Caesar - Some people listen just for entertainment like it's a good novel, some people religiously follow his pod and swear everything he claims is true. He's often flagged for fake news but he maintains he's absolutely done all the things he claimed to, up to and including the frequent allusions to his many love affairs with married women. His casual fans are fine, that hard core contingent that takes him at his word is toxic as hell and often makes people avoid his podcast but the casual fans are just there for the fun. Sorta like Star Wars fandom vibes

Brutus - his podcast is the opposite of Cicero's it's good, it's really good, it's also only got an audience of a couple hundred and a lot of those are his relatives or family friends, but he perseveres in sharing his deep insightful takes even if most of the people are just listening out of politeness

Mark Antony is podcast god. Everyone loves his show, unlike Caesar he really doesn't care if you believe his escapades are real or not. It's basically like drunk history without the history it's just him cracking up with some friends over drinks and taking the piss out of whatever the weeks topic is. It only gets serious when someone mentions Cicero and then Antony will get upset and either go on a tirade, which will make for a popular episode (some guests will deliberately trigger his Cicerophobia just for this reason) or he will drink too much (even by Antonian standards) and sulk and then the episode will have to abruptly end there

Cassius - I feel is the most likely to have like the life coaching, how to have confidence and succeed kind of podcast. He's relatively popular but never top of the charts and he doesn't mind. He feels he's helping people, he does resent that Caesar's hyperbolic tripe is consistently ranked higher than his thoughtful insights about how to make a better life for yourself

Octavian - he has listeners only because people wanna know if they're on his good side or if they should start selling their stuff and leaving Italy before it's too late. All his other listeners are either bootlickers, trying to casually bring up topics he discussed to make him feel validated and save their necks, or they listen because they're afraid he can somehow see the lists of names of who listens and if they're not on it he might add them to that OTHER list ie. The Proscriptions. Exactly two people willingly listens to three podcast and that's Agrippa, Octavia, and Attia and even Agrippa usually just has it in the background and is only half paying attention and Octavia is the only person to ever give him even a mild critique of his presentation

Agrippa - he only got a podcast because Octavian told him he should have one too. But while no one willingly listens to Octavian's Agrippa's smaller fan base is much more loyal and love listening to him give insights on military tactics and history and it's absolutely a fan favorite moment when he's at home to record his episodes and he has his sons on for a small segment where he lets them explain whatever strategy they employed in their games that day and he'll always find a way to adapt their child's play to a real life battle principle.

Catullus... I am sleep deprived and tired and my mind has blanked on who Catullus was

So instead I'll give you Cato. The Alex Jones of his day. He will rage daily and just keep getting more rabid, he is the king of the conspiracy theory contingent of podcasts. He will warn you about threats that 90% of which are invented and the other 10% somewhat accurate but wildly misrepresented.

*my comparisons to modern podcasters are based off of vibes not inferring that this person was the same in any real way

[kagedbird]

Cicero Loves You, Listener!

TESSDE AU - Dark Brotherhood route

~ [First] ~ [Next] ~ [Prev] ~

I huffed and puffed heavily, sweat trickling down my skin as I ran as fast as I could to freedom.

Under the cover of night, begging the shadows to keep me safe, I fled from the family, from Cicero, to find that man again.

Surely he’d be nearby. Surely he wouldn’t have left so easily if he was pleading so much.

I thought about calling out to him, but didn’t want to alert the family should any of them be lingering outdoors. Not many of them did when they were home— seems I was the only one outside Babette to flee outside, and it was only out of necessity for her— so I could only continue to pray to the Dread Lord that it remained that way.

I spied a town not far from the sanctuary and felt my heart rocket into my throat. Would he be there? Would the blond? Or the blue cat?

Would they still accept me, even though I could hardly remember?

I took precious time before leaving to change into the clothes that had been in my bag, and felt equally comforted and estranged by the fluffy texture. My gifted clothes from Gabriella had been rough against skin, while this was almost too plush to be comfortable.

I also found a necklace that settled exactly where I had reached up to touch the day Kaidan found me.

I flinched as I thought I saw movement in the shadows, spurred on by the Dread Lord’s warning, and fled further into town. Guards seemed to stare as I raced by, but never followed.

I found myself at an inn— Dead Man’s Drink— and gulp down much needed air before stepping inside.

I peeked through the door, looking around, and feeling my shoulders wilt at the lack of the black haired man being at any of the tables, but perked back up as I saw him sitting at the bar, surrounded by things of mead. He was alone, the barmaid trying to dissuade him from having any more drinks, if her frown was any indication.

“No, I haven’t seen anyone by that description, lad. I keep telling you.”

“A man clad in jes-jester’s wear? None at all?” Kaidan slurred, hands planted on the bar. “Surely he comes by fer supplies—”

“No, I haven’t seen him or the girl. Please, if you’re not going to rent a bed, pay your tab and get out.”

“Kaidan,” I called out, pushing the door open further. “Kaidan?”

He groaned, gripping either side of his head at my call, and leaned down towards the bar. “Gods, make it stop… I cannae take this…”

I hurried over to his side, gently touching his shoulder and withholding a flinch as he suddenly turned to me, eyes wide.

“...Hi.” I greeted, giving him a weak smile. “...You don’t look so good.”

He huffs, tears prickling his eyes as he carefully reached out to hover a hand over my cheek. “...Would really appreciate not dreamin’ about ya like this anymore. Gives me false hope. But Gods… it’s a punishment I’ll gladly take.”

I pressed his hand into my cheek, feeling my face flush a bit at his words and the warmth emanating from his palm. “...Not a dream. I’m here. Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

I turned to the barkeep, giving her a half smile as well, ignoring her own wide eyed stare. “Hi. Um… thank you. For keeping him safe. How much does he owe you? And… can we rent a room?”

“You the lass he’s been looking for?” She asked, looking me up and down.

“...Yeah.” I settled on, unsure what would happen if I said ‘I think so.’ “We got separated, and I’ve lost a bit of my memory from an injury, but… I managed to find my way here.”

Kaidan was leaning closer now, just petting my skin or hair, tugging me close for him to hold. I felt… fine. I didn’t feel uncomfortable like I had with Cicero’s hugs, or anyone else’s touches.

Another feeling of peace washed over me as I gently rubbed his back, just letting him do as he pleased for self comfort. I think he was too drunk to really realize I was back.

“...Well. All right. He owes me fifty for the drinks, and it’ll be a ten for a room.” The barkeep said with a shrug, cleaning up the countertop from mead and whatever else he’d consumed.

“Um, one second…”

I didn’t feel right having him pay for the drinks, despite him drinking them, so I wrestled myself free enough to grab the coin purse in my bag and slowly counted out sixty gold.

Old me was loaded, apparently.

After paying and being pointed to the room, I hauled Kaidan up as best I could, and we slowly made our way to a nicely furnished room. Far different in energy from the sanctuary, it actually felt… rather homely. And the fire pit in the main room kept the entire building warm.

I sat Kaidan down on the bed, wiping sweat from my brow after. I was exhausting myself far too much too soon, but I was hardly done yet.

I was getting another sense of deja vu as I closed the door and helped Kaidan remove his armor.

“I miss you,” he slurred, taking my hand in his. “Where can I— where can I find you? Why did you leave?”

“It wasn’t safe,” I murmured softly. “I didn’t want you hurt.”

“I can take anythin’ lass,” he countered, letting me slip away to help him remove his chest plate. It was really heavy, but he thankfully had enough sense to help set it down. “I always tried t’keep you safe.”

“I feel it.” I smiled, reaching up to take the bun out of his hair. It was fairly knotted and unkempt, something that tugged as incorrect in my mind. “Do you have a brush? Or comb?”

“In m’bag…”

Finding it with startling ease, I carefully settled behind him and started combing his hair, from the bottom to the top. The tension in his shoulders was easing rapidly, likely as the liquid courage settled in his stomach.

“Can you sing fer me…?” He mumbled, leaning into my hands as I gently pulled his head back.

“What do you want to hear?” I asked. “I’m not sure how much I can remember, but I can try.”

“There was a lullaby… you’d love t’sing it fer Lucien and Inigo… I always really— really enjoyed it too…” He hiccuped, clutching his pants tightly in his fists. “Was in tha’ other language you tried teachin’ me… Japa— Japanese…”

“Japanese…” I echoed quietly, tasting the word on my tongue.

“Sounded somethin’ like… atarase ri… hamatsu wa uta…”

“...kemono tonari tokiri…” I felt my mouth move, curling around words I didn’t understand seamlessly, in the tune I had been humming the past few days.

“Tha’s it! You remember!” Kaidan said, perking up brightly. He turned to look over his shoulder with a soft smile— one that made my toes curl. “Yer in there… I know ya are… I’ll bring you home, lass, I swear on m’life.”

I paused, pulling the comb from his hair to look into those beautiful blood red eyes. I felt… sad. For what was lost and what replaced it.

“Why do you want me to come back?” I asked softly. “What am I to you? What was I to you?”

He seemed surprised, slowly turning around to face me fully. His brow furrowed in thought— as much as he could think in his current state— the words slowly falling from his lips.

“...You are my best friend. I cared greatly fer you. I still… very much do.”

His hand reached out to cup my cheek again, unintentionally lighting my face on fire from the intimate act.

“I’ve missed yer laugh,” he whispered, leaning in close. “I’ve missed yer smile. Your voice, yer singing… you. I’d do anything t’bring you back to my side, lass…”

His forehead pressed against mine, my eyes fluttering his his nose brushed mine.

“Kaidan,” I gasped out quietly, quickly reaching up to place a hand on his chest. My hand was shaking— this was too much.

“Allora,” he murmured back quietly, letting out a sigh alongside it. “Please… I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you… it breaks me every day that we— that we couldn’t find you…”

“I’m— I’m here Kaidan…” I said, shuddering as he moves to trail the tip of his nose across my face, heart running a mile a minute. “I’m… I’m right here…”

“Stay… please…” He begged, arms surrounding me and pulling me close. Not trapped. Not encaged. Simply hoping to hold me close. “I know this dream will end in the morning, but… for right now… please stay…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his neck. It felt right. It felt natural. I’ve been here many times before, in his arms. “I’m here, Kaidan…”

I kept murmuring assurances in his ear as we laid down together, Kaidan burying his face into my neck to inhale my scent deeply. I ignored the flurry of butterflies in my stomach from the act, simply carding my fingers through his hair and my nails across his scalp.

It wasn’t long before he slipped into Oblivion, taking me alongside him.

[whitegoldtower]

I have a new character to pair up with Cicero! All these altmer romances I’ve done, I’ve neglected my favourite imperial!!

Time to give him a bit of lovin’.

So. The new guy. What can be said about him?

🩸

His name is Morveth ‘Matty’ Groves; a folk-hero to the poor and needful, and a thorn in the side of the wealthy and powerful. An odd sort of vampire, he plays into the ‘Robin Hood’ trope, robbing the rich blind and sucking them dry, before redistributing his loot amongst those who need it more. Certain Argonians in Riften frequently find their pockets lined. The Khajiit caravans find themselves better off because of the arcane trickster. The Dunmer in Windhelm leave their windows open so that Ol’ Matty Groves might pay them a visit.

The rich, however, lock their windows, hide their wives and coin-purses, and hope for the best.

Appearance-wise, Matty Groves is a rather tall and muscular Dunmer, with lavender-grey skin, dusky and pale mauve eyes (with one dilated pupil that causes one eye to appear black), and a head of dust-white, intensely wavy hair. He’s more on the handsome side, and is known to be distracted by beauty. His appearance is generally pleasing, if a little off-putting; his pupils (one being massively dilated and the other being pin-prick small) giving him a rather feral look, and his twelve-fanged grin being considerably scarier (six fangs on the top row, and six on the bottom, teeth stained slightly from years of drinking blood and smoking canis root, which provides a disturbing contrast to his tongue and gums, which are a deep black-purple).

He’s a freaky rogue with what should be an illegal level of charisma, and the Thieves Guild rack up tens all across the board because this guy is GOOD at his trade - high sneak, high speech, high lockpicking and pickpocketing, double daggers, a bag full of poisons and an expert level of illusion magic.

It’s out of pure curiosity that he happens upon the tiny jester at the Loreius Farm, having heard Uthgerd mention him whilst conducting his business in Whiterun late one night. He does, of course, lend his aid, weirdly charmed by the little guy.

…And then he lends aid to Aventus Aretino (“Hey kids, wanna see a dead body?”), which lands him in the Dark Brotherhood.

Matty Groves has it out for Astrid from the beginning, seeing her as the ultimate target - a stupidly wealthy woman with ‘bad vibes’. He smells treachery, deceit and greed. The corners of his mouth begin to twitch.

Naturally, he’s going to side with sweet Cicero.

[blackjack-15]

loading up ep 1 of season 2 and i'm wondering exactly what i'm in for XD fingers crossed i don't need my Anxiety Pillow from s1e7, it's currently In Use on the other couch

let's do this

starting with Marcus and...his mama, prolly? lotioning her hands, that's always a good thing -- hospitals get so friggin dry

unfortunately my "i know how TV works" sensors are going off, and if we're opening with Marcus and his sick mama(?), it means we're prolly gonna have that come back in ep 10 (10 ep season this time!! crazy!!), and, well...there's only so many storylines with a sick parent, sadly

they really heard i was mad at marcus and went with the sick parent route huh....i see you writers of the bear i see you

winter in chicago! does this mean we get a christmas ep?

FIRST SHOT OF CARMY AND IT'S A SYDCARMY SHOT. NO NOTES

and natalie's here! she felt a little isolated in the Mikey flashback last season, so i'm pleased she'll be involved with The Bear

syd...why are you Staring like that at carmy while he's shouting off costs for the restaurant...i mean i know why but like calling her out for it

carmy continually being 10k behind on the calculations...the bear is a comedy

also syd bringing him back to the correct total feels significant -- she's the part that finishes it, that brings the total to where it should be

"just kidding, 95" carmy's got jokes!!! gallows humor but jokes!!! and he says he's not funny

"we need a project manager" okay, you're hired." "syd." "nat." loving this friendship, here for it

the pizza box with carmy's squiggles....he was not kidding when he said he was bad with stuff like this huh

it's that carmy's an artist and absolutely does not care to even try to apply himself to anything else. spite got him to be the 'most excellent CDC at the most excellent restaurant', he's got more than enough mental firepower, he just cannot be bothered with Business

13 for the drywall...that's round about 108, 110k total depending on how accurate carmy's figuring is (which might be way off). i'm guessing it'll be closer to 150k, and that's half of the money owed to cicero...

i'm guessing carmy's gonna take the chance of getting his legs broken and put paying cicero on the backburner, but like...i get the feeling also that 300k is not gonna cover rennovating into The Bear, paying everyone, and getting things going

maybe they should hold ballbuster tournaments during reno....

[unsettlingcreature]

"Oh, bother and befuddle! Stuck here, stuck! My mother, poor mother…"

Arielle exchanged glances with a perturbed Kaidan and a delighted-looking Lucien. At her questioning glance, he cupped a hand to his mouth and whispered. "A real-life jester! Looks like he's in a spot of trouble though. Should we help him?"

"Nice of you to volunteer, Lucien."

"Me? Oh no, I'm sure he's a lovely chap but I think you're much better suited to dealing with him. Besides, I feel like you could use some mirth in your life."

With a groan of frustration, Arielle schooled her expression into a pleasant smile and approached. "Pardon me, um, jester, but do you need some help?"

"Not one kind stranger but three, one for each of my working wheels!" the man exclaimed, taking in how she was flanked on either side by her travelling companions. "But yes, yes! I could certainly use the help. Go to that farm, the Loreius Farm, just over there." His lilting voice turned rough as the jester seethed. "He has tools, he can help me. But he won't. He refuses." As quickly as it had darkened, his tone lifted again. "Convince Loreius to fix my wheel! Do that and poor Cicero will reward you. With coin! Nice, gleamy, shiny coin!"

"Yes, I shall do that," Arielle said, her smile becoming strained. "I shall be… right back. Boys, if you wouldn't mind having a look at that wheel in the meantime?"

While Kaidan looked less than pleased at being left with the man, Lucien immediately started chatting with the jester, asking about how his journey had been so far. Shaking her head, Arielle set off up the hill to where the farmer had been watching their little exchange. He seemed against helping at first until Arielle reminded him that though strange, Cicero hadn't actually committed any crime yet and the easiest way to get rid of him would be to fix his wheel. Though disgruntled, he agreed to fetch his tools and she made her way back to where Cicero and Lucien were now discussing mammoths of all things.

"I have excellent news, Cicero," she said, sidling up alongside Kaidan. "Loreius has agreed to fix your wagon. He's just getting the tools now."

"Oh, stranger," Cicero crooned, arms coming up as he shuffled from side to side in a little jig. "You've made Cicero so happy! So jubilant and ecstatic! But more, even more, my mother thanks you! Here, here." He stepped forwards, reaching for his belt and pulling out a small pouch of clinking coins. He pressed it into Arielle's hand, holding it for a second to stare and smile at her before stepping away. "A few septims for a kind deed - and thank you! Thank you again!"

"See you around, Cicero! I hope you and your mother get to wherever you're heading safely." Lucien's words were accompanied by a wave and a smile, while Kaidan simply started walking, his hand never leaving the hilt of his sword.

"That was possibly the strangest encounter I've ever had," he said, once enough distance was put between them. "I don't know why you didn't just turn around and ignore the strange, little man."

"He wasn't that bad," Lucien argued and Arielle internally agreed. She remembered when she had first left Alinor and made her way into Hammerfell and how every conversation seemed to leave her flat-footed. Though she'd eventually adapted, she could admit the jester was a tad unsettling in a way that she doubted was from social ineptitude.

"We did a good deed," she instead settled on. "Either we helped a sweet man who was escorting his dead mother or we helped a farmer who had a frustrating and insistent trespasser. We came out of it a few septims richer and now we don't need to worry about paying the tavern fees for a little while. Speaking of taverns…"

[darklistener]

At the Inn

M/Khajiit!Listener x Cicero (knotting)

A You barely got to pay the innkeeper the gold for your room before Cicero yanked you up the stairs, making you stumble a bit before following him. Neither of you considered or cared about the looks from the other patrons as they stared up at you both.

Cicero all but slammed the door in, immediately pinning himself against you and planting his lips on your muzzle the second the door shut. With a grunt you took him in your arms and shut the door with your back, shaking your gauntlets off so you could plant your claws into his ass like he loved. He whined into the kiss and broke it off, burrowing his face into your neck. An attempt to bite at you was made but he quickly leaned back, ptbhtbthbh-ing the fur out his mouth. You snickered at your Keepers apparent inability to learn that...you have fur.

Shaking it off with a grin you reached down to hoist him up by the legs, said action making him squeak and hug his legs around your hips out of instinct. Keeping him up with one hand, you reached down with the other to undo your leg armor. The heavy metal clattered to the floor but all you could hear was the shuddering gasp that left Ciceros mouth as your erection now pressed on his through your underarmor, and his light armor.

“Feel that, Keeper?” You brushed your nose against his ear, then let your canines poke against him. Your hands went back down to hold him to your hips, squeezing him close. You swore you could feel his cock pulsing in his armor against your own. “Feel what you do to me?”

A squeal left him and he caught you off guard by rutting himself against you, damn near making you drop him.

“Yes, yes, yes, yES-”

You shook it off and walked him to the pelt-lined bed, wondering in the back of your head if this flimsy wood could take how hard you- Focus. Standing up you shed the last parts of your upper armor off, and you could feel Cicero squirm at the sight. A clawed hand poked his chin before trailing down and slowly, steadily undoing the armo-

“F a s t e r.” Cicero all but growled out, gripping his own hair in his hands with eyes shut tight and jaw clenched.

“As you wish,” You chuckled out and all but ripped his armor off of him, not caring where any of it landed. He was already hard, cock weeping and twitching. It was difficult to not groan at the sight. You shook your head, discarding the rest of your own armor, leaving you both bare.

He was already wet and worked from you eating his hole in the alley, but you still reached below and rubbed at him with two fingers, causing him to arch his back and w h i n e.

“List-Hnn...Listener please just-”

“Just?”

“Fuck me, f-fuck me fuck me fuck- fuck me, fuck your darling Cicero, fuck meHAH-”

A rut of your hips, the head of your cock poking into him made him gasp, almost crying out but you clamped a hand against his mouth. “As much as I- Hn. Want to hear you, Should keep it to a minimum...in an Inn.”

Cicero nodded frantically and put his hand over yours, eyebrows creased. Fuck. He's beautiful like this. A low grumble left your muzzle as you steadied yourself, slowly pushing your hips forward. His nails dug into your hand, the free hand gripping the musty pelt blanket, ankles both scrambling around and digging into your lower back as you bottomed out.

Your tongue lolled out of your maw a bit, brow furrowed. Tight. Warm. A jolt made you jump as Cicero clenched around you TIGHT for a moment before relaxing.

“M o v e....”

“Move..?”

“PLEASE-”

At his command you chuckled but gripped his hips, dragging your hips back and hesitating before quite roughly pushing back in, a cry leaving his mouth before he scrambled around for your hand and holding it to his mouth.

“Good boy.” was all you could grunt out, hips rolling into his, your head falling down and your forehead resting into the crook of his neck.

He smelled divine to you- Sweat and blood, and whatever scent that made Cicero...Cicero. It was unique and intoxicating. You teased your fangs against the soft flesh of his throat, making him arch up and all but HOWL into your hand. The sharp points of your teeth grazed his skin, hot breath making his skin wet as you picked up the pace of your hips, shuddering. Fumbling a bit with your other hand you reached down and rubbed the length of his cock with your thumb; And you growled as he clenched around you in response.

A muffled sound snapped you to and you removed your hand, but kept rutting into your beloved Keeper. He took your face in both hands, his own face red and sweating, grinning with his lip in his teeth. ...By Sithis. He's beautiful. And of course, he couldn't keep his mouth truly shut for long.

“More...More, more more- Listener- Lnnn-Listn...err..AH-” Cicero slammed his head back and bit down on his hand to keep a particularly loud moan down, but looked back down at you with those fucking eyes you adored. You swallowed nothing and propped yourself on your elbows, hips now rutting forward like you would die if you slowed- The squeaking wood of the bed was definitely a giveaway to the patrons downstairs, but who in Oblivion cared? Cicero went to cup his mouth again but you grabbed his hand and pinned it to the bed, a dark look in your eyes that made him flutter inside.

“I want to hear you.”

Cicero yanked you by the scruff into his neck and let out a loud, high whine, and it shot electricity down your gut. Your hips stuttered a moment as your knot started to swell up, and you hesitated each time you fucked into your Keeper.

“C-Cicero- I- Hn- Knot. Yes. No.”

“Y-YES! YES YES YES KNOT YOUR CICERO YES-”

Your hips stuttered but pressed forward, the both of you straining as your knot slooowly pushed into Cicero before it was stuffed inside, the warmth of your cum blooming in his stomach. Cicero grabbed your fur hard enough to hurt a bit as his cock pulsed, painting his stomach with his own release.

The haze of afterglow calmed you both down after what felt like hours, and you sat up, still tied inside your keeper. You licked his cheek with a rough tongue, and he giggled, breathy and blissed out.

“Happy with yourself? Everyone knows what we've been up to...”

“C-ccic...Cicero just...Th' jealous...mmm'vus...”

You snorted at his pleasured slurring, carefully hoisting yourself beside him on the bed with your knot still plugged into him. You opened your mouth to say something but smirked instead, the Jester already gripping the fur on your chest and snoring softly. Resting your chin on his head, you sighed and drifted off yourself.

[viscera-vital]

OKAY im not over it exCUSE me

LISTEN its always been a truth!!!!! i just imagine kelvin as a very slow gentle lover and cicero very intense and fiery, but both equally passionate. its just a nice contrast depending on which of them leads cuz switch/switch combo??? FAVORITE THING OKAY theyre both adaptable and can adapt to eachothers needs it make me. I LOVE THEM.............. cuz cicero loves dominating people but sometimes honestly he wants to lay back and let someone take care of him!!! sometimes he wants to be used, sometimes if kelvins been especially pent up after a lot of hard work around their camp, he doesnt mind getting a little rough and. GRRR he is so cute to me

i can see it so clearly........................ like cicero loves when kelvin is rough cuz its how HE would fuck, and the opposite is true for kel, he loves when cicero is gentle and tender and looks into his eyes lovingly LIKE. i mean they like it regardless but theres a specific thrill being on the other end of what they dish out, feels good

love to imagine them curled together after a hard day, relaxing inside on their beds and the thing about cicero is when hes unsure he has no idea how to cuddle but if hes comfortable? hes wrapped around him like a snake, face pressed against his chest, very unusually relaxed. its CUTE kelvin thinks its very cute, cicero is usually so.. tightly wound. very paranoid, very cautious, knowing he'll let himself rest in kelvins embrace? it makes his head fuzzy...

wraps his arms a little tighter around him and is pleased with the way cicero returns the gesture, snuggling closer to him (pretty much laying on top of him at that point but GOOD they like it theres nothin better to him). cant quite help it when his breathing picks up just a bit, all those close contact would get him so. flustered and he doesnt even realize that anything has changed but cicero does. hears his heart get a little more frantic and at first he thinks he might be scared for some reason? like maybe he saw something outside their windows but when he glances up at him he is SO. BLISSED OUT, eyes closed smiling peacefully RELAXING ITS. cicero heart. explosion immediately

he cant. HES OVERWHELMED OKAY its the cutest thing hes ever seen, cant help but lean up and press a soft kiss against kelvins cheek, n kelvin feels his heart skip a beat!!!! feels so warm, so nice, having the man he loves draped over him like that? i want him so in love that he is just. drowning in cicero like every aspect. his warmth is touch his scent ALL OF IT cuz honestly cicero is the same exact way!!!!!!!!!!!!

keeps kissing him for fun now cuz he sees how big he smiles and who could resist??? peppering his face with little pecks at this point, kelvin chuckles and GODD its so soft, so sincere hes. cant help but kiss him directly at that point!!! but its so... different than what kelvin expects, its soft and loving, makes his brain buzz pleasantly and he doesnt even notice that hes getting hard!!!! not until cicero shifts over him and he feels it, feels that carnal need gnawing inside him, n he accidentally bucks his hips up. cicero barely pays any mind, keeps giving him attention like he deserves. its RARE he feels like sharing a lot of affection cuz hes just closed off by nature but. when he DOES, he goes all out cuz truthfully he can just BARELY contain all the love he holds alright

its pretty tempting though, the way kelvin whines underneath him, fully grinding against him now. he knows he just cant help it, the same way he gets all needy when kelvin does the same for him. SICKENING ALRIGHT. hate these mfs for real. its JUST

love is so intoxicating, being completely cradled in it is just. I MEAN how could you blame him for getting hard? cicero doesnt, instead he ruts against him to allow him some relief!!! kissing gets a bit more heated, guess thats just in his nature, but hes honestly so proud of himself. leans back to look down at kelvin, smiling deviously!!!1 cuz WHAT A SIGHT!!!

hes panting and squirming, eyelids heavy and his cheeks red. HE LOOKS LIKE. when a cartoon character gets kissed and they go all red and start floating or some shit with like hearts for pupils THATS BASICALLY HOW HE LOOKS completely lovesick it is. FOUL

and holy shit, hes so fucking pretty cicero is SO. he is so pleased, and it shows. gently trails his hand down kelvins chest, his soft tummy, stops just above his belt and kelvin is. BESIDES HIMSELF, thrusting gently trying to make it clear what he wants, literally grabs ciceros hand desperately and pulls it closer to his cock. doesnt feel embarrassed when he sees cicero laugh a little, cuz he knows hes in good hands!!! knows he'd do anything for him

LIKE JUST THE THOUGHT.... giving someone enough love that they could get off to it its so. ITS SO SWEET TO ME so cute like. its really so easy too, any attention cicero gives him is wildly appreciated, and vice versa!!!! he likes to tease cicero, cuz he knows JUST HOW EASILY he can rile him up alright cicero is very. he has a very high sex drive kelvin knows he can just hold him a certain way and immediately get him in the mood, maybe theyre making out and hes on top of cicero, hooks his leg underneath his and spreads ciceros legs open a little and. he KNOWS he might not be able to hear but he could feel the way he just moaned into his mouth and he gives him a cheeky little smile cuz. YEAH. HE IS REALLY EASY... theyre both easy! its great i love it

i just think its so. the mutual love and interest in eachother like. YR HONOR THEY ARE GAY..... just being so excited for any contact with one another cuz cicero is touch starved, kelvin is like. not particularly touch starved but i imagine he LIKES to touch, physical contact love language or whatever and in the little thing i have for them, cicero was pretty open and close with him until they crashed, then he sorta. closed himself off (he doesnt blame him, pretty traumatizing to crash land on an island!!!) so hes like. starved for HIS touch yknow? but they grow closer again cuz the NEED to protect kelvin, ciceros constantly laying down his life for him and he feels no regret, kelvin keeps him living when he wants to give up. when living there feels too hard, he remembers he needs to stay alive to protect kelvin, he WILL be there to protect him. knows theyre gonna get off this island TOGETHER, alive and well, and he'll do anything to ensure that!!!

woke up and my very first thought was overwhelming kelvin with affection and getting him hard 🥳🥳 like soft kisses, running yr fingers thru his hair all that good stuff i GRGRRR

him and cicero listen. if you are dating and both of you cant get equally hard from small affection then!!!! its over!!!!!!!!!!!!! they are needy i like to imagine them needy

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Shelter in place

Shelter is a human necessity and a human right. A successful society is one that safeguards our freedoms and our rights. The decision to turn housing into the major speculative asset class for retail investors and Wall Street has made housing a disaster for people with houses — and a catastrophe for those without.

America has a terrible, accelerating homelessness problem. Many of us share this problem — obviously, people without houses have the worst of it. But no one benefits from mass homelessness — it is a stain on the human soul to live among people who are unsheltered.

However, there is an answer to the problem of people lacking homes, one with a strong evidentiary basis, which costs significantly less than dealing with the crises of homelessness: give homes to people who don’t have them. It’s called Housing First, and it works:

https://endhomelessness.org/resource/housing-first/

But Housing First has a fatal flaw: it merely helps people without homes find them. It does not generate excess profits for a highly concentrated sector. No one profiteers off Housing First, and so there is no well-funded lobby to promote it.

However, there is a highly concentrated industry with sky-high profits and a powerful lobbying arm that has its own proposal for ending homelessness. It’s the private prison industry, and its proposal is to make homelessness illegal and then put all the homeless people in private prisons:

https://invisiblepeople.tv/private-prisons-for-homeless-criminalization/

A wave of laws criminalizing homelessness has come before American statehouses, and behind them is a deep-pocketed astroturf campaign run by The Cicero Institute, a “libertarian” think-tank that has widely shopped model legislation called the “Reducing Street Homelessness Act.”

Under the proposal, anyone caught sleeping on the streets would be liable to imprisonment. Further, homeless people judged to have mental health issues by police officers would be either imprisoned or locked up in mental heath facilities. As Kayla Robbins writes for Invisible People, such a law would substantially raise the stakes for any homeless person seeking help from police or other services — if they decide you look “mentally ill,” they could lock you up indefinitely.

Where will the money for all these new prison beds come from? By diverting budgets currently allocated for permanent housing.

It’s weird that the Cicero Institute would devote so much energy to discrediting Housing First and promoting criminalization (“libertarians” who want to throw millions of people, mostly Black and brown, into prison indefinitely have a highly selective definition of “liberty).

But there’s at least a circumstantial case for why they would undertake this project: their founder is Joe Lonsdale, the billionaire Palantir co-founder whose VC firm 8VC has made sizable investments in private prisons.

Americans without homes are in a terrible place. How about Americans with homes? Well, obviously they have it better — but it’s not as though they’re well-served by market-based housing, either.

Treating a human necessity as a speculative asset has all kinds of negative outcomes — for your house’s value to continue to rise, the plight of tenants has to steadily worsen. The resale price of your home will include the expected returns from renting it out (even if the new owner doesn’t become a landlord, they’re going to have to bid against someone who would), and rental returns go up when tenancy protections go down.

Meanwhile, the spiraling price of housing — driven by the policy requirement to drive up asset prices to please homeowning voters — means that your kids are going to end up (someone else’s) tenants, exposed to the cruelties you promoted to safeguard the family asset.

You’re not even going to be able to pass that asset onto your kids — focusing on asset appreciation, rather than public service provision, means that you will have to liquidate the family home to pay for your eldercare and your kid’s student debts.

Back in 2021, I wrote, “The Rent’s Too Damned High,” about the way that treating housing as an asset rather than a necessity has made everything else worse:

https://gen.medium.com/the-rents-too-damned-high-520f958d5ec5

But here it is, 2022, and it’s even worse. Writing for Bloomberg, Tracy Alloway and Joe Weisenthal describe the enweirdening of the housing market as interest rates rise.

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2022-10-10/here-s-how-weird-things-are-getting-in-the-housing-market?leadSource=uverify%20wall

Housing is becoming less affordable: with interest rates going up, the cost of a new mortgage is unbearable for many working people. What’s more, banks are tightening up their lending criteria, making it harder to get a mortgage in the first place.

This may feel familiar — it certainly echoes the housing market after the Great Financial Crisis of 2008. But unlike 2008, the people who have houses aren’t losing them in walloping great numbers. Partly that’s because we’re not letting giant banks steal their houses with mortgage fraud:

https://web.archive.org/web/20171005131636/https://www.thenation.com/article/how-americas-biggest-bank-paid-its-fine-for-the-2008-mortgage-crisis-with-phony-mortgages/

But it’s also because banks started requiring larger downpayments after the GFC, so borrowers aren’t saddled with terrible debt-to-equity ratios, and many homeowners were able to refinance at rock-bottom prices during the lockdown. And, unlike 2008, most mortgages today are fixed rate — even though interest rates are rising, your mortgage rate is locked in.

That’s produced a very weird circumstance: no one can afford to buy a house, but prices aren’t going down. For prices to go down, we’d need to see more houses on the market, and no one wants to build a new house in this environment.

With no new houses going up, any additional supply would come from existing homeowners selling their homes. But when you sell your home, you usually have to buy another one, and that means swapping your 2% 2020 mortgage for a a 5% 2022 mortgage — which translates to a six- or seven-figure increase in the overall price of your home.

Has someone offered you a better job in another city or state? Great! Is it worth paying hundreds of thousands of dollars more for your mortgage over the next 20 years? No? Okay, I guess the answer is no.

To recap: treating shelter as a speculative asset means that we’re about to permanently imprison thousands of homeless people at enormous public expense. It means that your kids are doomed to being rent-burdened tenants with no legal rights for their rest of their lives. And it means that you are locked into the house you were in when the music stopped, no matter how many reasons there are to go somewhere else.

Turning housing into an asset doesn’t help you, the person looking for a place to live. But it’s great news for Wall Street and billionaires like Jeff Bezos, who are buying up whole neighborhoods and turning them into high-rent slums:

https://www.benzinga.com/real-estate/22/08/28685878/jeff-bezos-bet-on-housing-slide-his-single-family-rental-play-is-well-timed

sImage: in0_m0x0 (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/marineperez/4698707308/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[Image ID: A row of barred prison cells; superimposed over them, in needlepoint font, is the motto 'Home Sweet Home.']

[aaami]

Please please please answer all of those otp questions I’m prompting!

Okie dokie, here we goo!!

Disaster duo megapost right here, all 60 questions, it's a long read

Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’ ?

Most likely Kajo and she has actually yelled something similar at Cicero during an argument. During their time in Solstheim (dealing with Hermaeus Mora and Miraak and whatnot), things get pretty rough on them and Kajo even considers sending Cicero back to Skyrim, because it hurts too much to see him not doing great and closing up again. She tells him about it and he absolutely refuses to leave. He is a bit infuriated that Kajo would even suggest such thing, to which Kajo explains that she is only considering it because she cares about him and his wellbeing so much.

Cicero does get that she is only trying to protect him, but still refuses to leave.

What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

This is actually something very common to them! Cicero quite often has nightmares about his past, all the losses and especially the lonely years he spent in Cheydinhal. Sometimes even about more recent events, but mostly things that really haunt him. More often than not he wakes up from those nightmares in a complete manic mode, having difficulties understanding his surroundings and that the nightmare was nothing but a bad dream. It always takes him a moment to calm down and recollect himself and Kajo does her best to help; talking in a soothing voice, giving him space but also either holding his hand or rubbing his back to get him back to present, to remind him that she is real and not a figment of his imagination.

When Cicero has calmed down, Kajo will listen to him tell about the nightmare... if he so wishes to. He doesn't talk about his past much, after all, and the dreams are no different.

Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

Cicero wears a piece of one of Kajo's scarves around his left arm and Kajo wears one of the weird leather strings that he likes to wrap around his arms. Just a little sign of their dedication to each other.

In the modern au, however, especially Kajo "borrows" Cicero's clothes quite often, mostly his absolutely horrendous, ugly (but somehow cool) shirts. Cicero also sometimes borrows her clothes, but sadly they don't fit very well... but will that stop him? No.

Which one is more protective? Who needs to be ‘protected’?

Both are more than capable of handling themselves, there is no need for physical protection at least, but Kajo tends to be a bit protective of Cicero when it comes to his mental wellbeing. However, she tries not to overdo it, just wants to make sure that he is happy.

Describe their cozy night in.

Them just snuggling in the Listener's quarters. Perhaps reading a book together, planning the next contract, maintaining their weapons or perhaps just talking about silly, absolutely nonsense things!

Another good way to spend the evening is to do the Keeping rituals together (or more like Kajo is watching Cicero and assisting if he needs it). Paying their respects to the Night Mother together feels quite intimate to them.

Who would beg the other not to leave? Who has to leave to protect the other?

When Kajo left to fight Alduin, Cicero was the one who begged her not to leave or at least to take him with her. He begs her not to go where he can't follow and hearing those words from him makes Kajo's heart hurt so bad. She wants to finish this with her best friend, who stood by her side through the whole thing, supported her when no one else did, but he can't go with her. He has to stay and continue the legacy of the Dark Brotherhood if something happens to the Listener.

(At this point they are not yet aware that they might have remantic feelings for each other, but this moment makes them realize that hold up..... something's up here...)

Would they build a pillow fort together just because?

ABSOLUTELY. They take all the pillows in the Sanctuary and build the best pillow fort anyone has ever seen!!!

What happens if one of them gets sick?

The other will look after the sick one, of course. Kajo is the more difficult patient tho, she absolutely refuses to stay in bed and recover properly before heading onto new adventures. She can have a high fever and still be like "I'm fine! Absolutely fine!" and then passes out on the floor. Cicero always worries so much, especially since Kajo VERY rarely gets sick due to being a bosmer and being naturally resistant to disease.

What are their thoughts on having children?

Kajo is not opposed to the idea of having a child or two one day, but it's not something that's really on her bucket list and she is content even without any kids. Cicero has never really thought about it, not seriously at least, since it's not something that he feels like is in the books for him or something that he really wants. Being assassins also would make raising kids difficult, so they agree to be careful.

(However, there is the au where they have an oopsie and Faurin is born.)

Describe their first date.

The first contract they carry out together after understanding that their feelings for each other are mutual, when things start getting a bit spicy between them. There is screaming (not theirs) and blood (also not theirs), such a perfect date <3

Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Can the other still tell?

Cicero doesn't really hide his emotions too well (unless he is planning something, he is devious like that), he often lets them out almost completely unfiltered.

Kajo, however, tends to hide her emotions, especially if they are negative ones. She is quite good at masking her true feelings especially from people who don't know her, but Cicero has learned to recognize the small signs; She becomes a bit quieter, smiles a bit less, avoids looking people in the eyes and fiddles with her clothing.

Do they have many heated arguments? How do they smooth things over?

They playfully argue about silly stuff quite often, but serious stuff not so. But heated arguments are unavoidable even for them, especially in stressful situations when one or both are on the edge. Usually they just let it all out, perhaps have a bit of a screaming contest, then do their best to calm down and once the worst is over, they attempt to talk things through civilly.

Despite their screaming contests sometimes getting pretty intense, they never attack each other in any way, just scream out their feelings about whatever is the matter.

(Sometimes a rough, impromptu romp is also the solution to smooth things over.)

Who’s the bigger tease?

Cicero. He knows exactly how to agitate Kajo, pretty much in any way, but especially when she turns into a blushing mess when all he does is whisper her name to her.

How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash?

Their personalities match very well; They are both very playful and wild, loud and joyous! Sinister and unhinged too, in a bit different ways, but still.

Kajo is a bit calmer, however, she doesn't lose her cool as quickly as Cicero sometimes (he does control his temper fairly well, but sometimes it just explodes). It rubs on him a little over the years, making him a little less on the edge at all times.

Do they always say 'i love you' before leaving?

Once they learn to say it, they say "I love you" all the time :')

Can they stay up all night just talking?

Quite often, yes. Cicero has insomnia (likely due to him being afraid of the terrible nightmares he gets far too often), so sometimes the two end up spending the nights talking about whatever, mostly something ridiculous, but sometimes deeper stuff too.

Cicero will let Kajo sleep, tho, if she is feeling tired!

Who's more likely to pull the other in by the waist and kiss them passionately?

Most likely Kajo, but Cicero likes to surprise her too, so who knows ;)

How likely are they to have fur babies? How many and what kind?

A dozen of rats and frogs each, thank you very much! Frogs aren't furry, but those are their favorite animals and if they could, they would both have an army of them. Cicero actually keeps several pet rats in the DB sanctuary, which doesn't excite the other members much.

How do they feel about PDA?

They are very shy about it at first, mostly due to them being oblivious dorks and also unsure where their relationship is going, but they become more comfortable with showing their feelings publicly once they start figuring things out.

That being said, they both like it! They might not be too into making out in public, in front of everyone (unless they want to annoy Kajo's cousin Cailon), but they do like to hold hands a lot.

Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

Perhaps not the most perfect disaster duo song, but Lemon Boy by Cavetown always comes to my mind when I think about a fitting song.

Who would get into a fight to defend the other's honor? Who tends to the other's wounds?

More often than once Cicero has been ready to fight someone just for looking at Kajo wrong. And it takes him so much self control not to lash out when someone is rude to her. Like, how dare they!! She is the great and powerful Listener!! Also his partner, but yeah. But usually he just stays back and watches Kajo handle the situation. It's always fun to see her kick someone's ass.

Cicero also has the tendency of injuring himself a lot (he can be quite reckless), so Kajo is often tending to his bruises. She knows healing spells, after all.

What reminds each of their partner?

What reminds Kajo of Cicero: Fancy daggers. Color red. Books, he likes to read and write. Candles. Floral and herbal scents, like the oils he uses for the Keeping rituals. It's a bit silly thought, she knows, but the stars in the night sky remind her of his freckles - they are just as fascinating to her.

What reminds Cicero of Kajo: The scent of pine. Green. Lush forests. The feel of steel to your throat, reminds him of how she threatened to cut his throat open and watch him slowly bleed to death - truly a woman after his own heart. Magpies and frogs.

Who's more likely to convince the other to stay in bed come morning?

Kajo. Cicero is quite the busybody and wants to start the day early (despite not having slept much or if at all), but Kajo likes to stay in bed much longer and is very good at convincing Cicero to join her and cuddle. She is very good at using her grumpy sleepy face to her advantage and Cicero can't resist it.

Who's more likely to give the other a massage?

Both are very likely to give the other an impromptu massage, tbh.

Do they have any hobbies they share?

Does carrying contracts through count as a hobby? I'm going to say yes, since they do that together quite often (as the Keeper, Cicero is not allowed to kill the targets, but will gladly assist Kajo and it's actually a lot of fun to them). Getting into all kinds of trouble should also count as a hobby.

Archery is probably the only real hobby that they really have in common. Kajo is a master at it, but Cicero is quite good at it too and sometimes they get a bit competitive with it. It's always playful, though.

What are their vices?

Easy: They kill for their profession and find it fun.

Who is the light weight that needs to be taken care of after a party?

Cicero. Being a bosmer has its many merits, being resistant to poison being one of them, and it takes a lot for Kajo to get absolutely shitfaced, so if they end up drinking more than a mug of wine or ale with their dinner, it's very likely that Kajo has to carry Cicero back home. This doesn't happen very often though, because the old assassin habits are always there and being too intoxicated might make Cicero lower his guard.

What are there thoughts on pet names? Do they have any?

They are fine with them, but don't use them very often. But for them calling each other the Listener and Keeper sort of count as pet names (don't ask). Sometimes, however, they might call each other "my love" or "my dear".

Who is more likely to jump in an elevator? Who freaks out?

They're both jumping, no question about that. And then they get in trouble, because the elevator gets stuck between floors and they need to wait to get out.

Your OTP gets to pick out each other's outfits; what is each wearing?

Cicero would want to see Kajo wear something more traditional for a Dark Brotherhood assassin. Perhaps the robes or a leather armor (makes her butt look great).

Kajo on the other hand would want to make Cicero very happy and try to elevate his jester outfit! Maybe add more colorful patches to it, bells too (ones that he can detach if they are to sneak up to someone, can't make noise when trying to be sneaky!!)

Or they would try to convince each other to run around naked, because why not.

Can they sit side by side without touching the other or are they handsy? (lacing fingers, touching knees, etc.)

They are handsy, very much so. Both like their personal space, but with each other? It is THEIR personal space now, they are constantly touching in some way. They just think it's nice to be so close.

Who's the better story teller?

Both can tell a story, but Cicero, perhaps. He writes a lot, after all, likes to keep records of their adventures and sometimes goes very into detail with them, spending hours planning how to make the journal entries entertaining. Writing (and reading) helps him to keep his thoughts in order, so it's something he likes to do whenever he can.

Who's the better cook?

Surprisingly Cicero. Kajo is not a bad cook, just a lazy one and would rather eat raw stuff than bother to cook anything. She manages to fool Cicero into thinking that she is absolutely terrible at cooking, so that he would always cook when they are out in the wilderness. He eventually finds out that it is just an act, that the Listener is just lazy, boo. But he doesn't mind it too much.

Who's more likely to tell a dirty joke or story to make the other blush?

Both do this! They might see something completely innocent and twist it into a perverted joke, just to make the other blush and laugh.

Who's more artistic?

Cicero, again. In canon he is more of a writer, but in the modern au he likes to paint a lot, mostly wild, abstract stuff (that have a deeper meaning to him, he talks his feelings through colors and shapes), but also people and landscapes.

Who's more likely to fire up the stove at 2am because the other woke up in the middle of the night hungry?

Hopping back to the question about which is the better cook, since the answer to this one is the same - it's Cicero. Anything for Kajo.

Which is more likely to swear?

They both swear, Cicero little less than Kajo, but yeah. Kajo sometimes uses bosmeri words when she is swearing, so that she can do it without absolutely everyone around her realizing that she is cursing someone off.

Who is more sexually experimental? Who's more vanilla?

Vanilla sex can be nice, but they like to get raunchy and try new things. They aren't shy to let the other know what they want to try, but of course respect it if the other doesn't feel comfortable with something.

Who would rescue an injured animal and nurse it back to health? What would the other think?

Kajo, and she has done that more often than once. Cicero doesn't always understand why bother, especially if the animal is badly injured, but thinks that it is sweet how caring Kajo is and does help her if need to.

Which one would take their jacket off and drape over the other one because they were visibly shivering?

Both!! Kajo will gladly let Cicero borrow her scarf if he is feeling cold and Cicero would probably strip naked for Kajo if she needed all of his clothes to not feel cold.

What's their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? (getting snowed in together, watching thunderstorms, etc.)

Hiding from a thunderstorm can be very exciting. There is something very fun about it, listening to the rumbling thunder and the sound of rain.

Who would give their life for the other without a second thought?

If it was a situation where one could save the other from death by giving their life, they would probably choose to die together instead (which is quite romantic in their minds). The thought of having to live without the other is terrifying, that's how attached they are to each other.

Who would dance in the kitchen making dinner? Would the other join in or watch from the doorway?

They're both dancing and making a mess, but that's alright! Having fun in the moment is more important, worrying about cleaning comes later.

Can they fall asleep without the other?

They can, but after sleeping next to each other for so long, it feels pretty lonely without the other. Especially Cicero feels more comfortable going to sleep when Kajo is next to him, she has sworn to fight his nightmares, after all, and even though it's a silly promise she can't really fulfill, it does make him feel better and a little less scared.

Would they get frisky at the movies by themselves?

If it's a really boring movie and they really are alone, then probably yeah. They might be a bit into getting frisky in semi-public settings, anyway. The thrill of possibly getting caught and whatnot.

Does either of them have a secret that could potentially ruin their relationship?

Not really, they know each other quite well and don't really keep secrets. Of course, Cicero hasn't been able to tell absolutely everything about his past, but Kajo is aware of what he's been through, just doesn't know all the details. And she doubts that there could be anything that could potentially ruin their relationship, surely Cicero would've told her that much.

To Cicero, Kajo is like an open book. She tells him pretty much everything, even the stuff she has hard time opening up to anyone else (it does take her a while, but after Cicero asks her about the little signs he has noticed, she decides to tell him about her anxieties).

Who's the better driver?

In the modern au, Kajo has a drivers license, but Cicero is pretty sure that she stole it from someone. She is a terrible driver and Cicero would probably be a much better driver if he just had a license (he is a very good law obeying citizen, he would never drive without one!!)

Does either of them have a hard time being away from the other?

YEAH, especially Cicero. When Kajo leaves to fight Alduin, he is an absolute mess. Of course he worries that he would need to start looking for a new Listener if something happens to her, but mostly he is worried for her because of personal reasons. She is his best friend, his only real friend at that time, and he doesn't want to lose her like he has lost everyone else important in his life. He isn't sure can he take such a loss again.

Who's more likely to do something out of spite?

It'd be easier to ask who is more likely not to do something out of spite, lmaooo

What’s a non verbal way they say I love you?

Lingering stares, silly but soft smiles that they only give to each other. Squeezing the other's hand lightly before letting go. Forehead touches.

Describe their weekend getaway?

Hmm, likely planning and executing a contract, doing what they enjoy the most. Or perhaps just camping somewhere nice, away from everyone and everything, just the two of them enjoying the peace and quiet of the wilds. The peace and quiet won't last too long with these two, though, they will find trouble.

Would they ever go skinny dipping?

Pretty much every time they are out in the wilderness and need to get cleaned up and sometimes even just for fun!

Who’s more likely to carry the other to bed?

Kajo B) She might be small, but she is stronger than she looks and likes to carry Cicero around sometimes. And he probably likes it even more than she does, bonus points if she roughly tosses him on the bed.

Do they like watching clouds or star gazing?

Star gazing, or rather staring up into the dark night sky. Like Cicero describes Sithis to be like the cold of space, looking up into the night sky makes them somehow feel close to Sithis at that moment. It's a funny feeling they cannot really explain.

What do they do turn the other on/put them in the mood?

Literally all Kajo needs to do is pull out a knife and point it at Cicero and he is like "Y E S, ma'am". Or bite him, he has a thing for that and it's great that Kajo has sharp canines and premolars.

Putting Kajo in the correct mood can be pretty easy too, all Cicero needs to do is whisper her name a couple of times to get her to frustratedly kiss him, which then can lead to other stuff.

And, of course because they are fucked up in the head, successfully carrying out a contract really gets them in the mood. The adrenaline and so on, doesn't really matter to them if they are covered in blood and guts or not, they will fuck right there and then if the mood hits.

Whose the serious one when grocery shopping and who likes to toss random things in the cart?

Cicero is the one who writes the shopping lists and wants to stick to them, whereas Kajo just keeps throwing more and more chicken nuggets in the cart. They sometimes have loud arguments about it in the middle of the grocery store.

Who’s more likely to hold a grudge after an argument?

They try their hardest not to let any serious argument lead into such situation, because harboring such feelings doesn't do any good for them and they try to talk things through to their best ability.

Sometimes they hold playful grudges over silly stuff, though, like if one ate other's sweetroll without a permission or smth.

Who tops? Who bottoms?

They switch things around, but Kajo is definitely the top in this relationship and Cicero gladly lets her take the lead. Nothing pleases him more than to please his dear Listener and it's a lot of fun when she handles him roughly and teases him until he is a total mess.

Who pulls the other closer when they’re sleeping?

Kajo is the big spoon often, but Cicero makes sure that she cannot escape his hold, hehe.

[your-nanas-house]

Together is better

pairing: Jerome Valeska x Reader

warnings: fluff?

words: 866

summary: Little Jerome wants to get away from the circus to have some time alone and meets his best friend (reader) in the woods and they spend time together.

note: So... this is my first fic, I hope I didn't make any mistakes with English and I hope I didn't write some nonsense. If so, please excuse my bad English.

@seldomabsent

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The sound of water being splashed got closer and closer as Jerome continued down the narrow lane in the woods that took him farther and farther away from the chaos that was the circus before that night's show.

At first, he just wanted to go back like many other evenings to his tree where he could sit and be surrounded by the sounds of the woods while getting away from his mother and her many lovers for a while. He wanted to take a break from his twin brother Jeremiah as well, because as much as he enjoyed joking around with him and getting him riled up, everyone needed some alone time, right?

The little ginger was heading unnoticed by the other artists toward the little road that would lead him to his tree, but hearing sounds of someone jumping into the water he decided to change his destination and follow the sound.

He stopped as soon as he caught a glimpse of the shadow of a person playing with water, he took a few steps forward to get a better look and found himself observing a little girl he had befriended in the last period (since her family had left her to the circus).

She was the only one, or at least one of the few people who were not frightened by him or who did not disgust him.

Upon her arrival at the circus she had settled into a trailer of her own remaining under Mr. Cicero's wing. Her name was Y/n.

Y/n continued with what he was doing not paying much attention to the presence of another person, this made Jerome think that she hadn't noticed him, which wasn't true since a few minutes later she turned to him smiling spontaneously "what are you looking at?", Jerome simply shrugged his shoulders slightly mirroring the little girl's smile returning to look at what he was doing breaking the silence that had been created after he didn't answer her question "what are you doing in the woods, alone? ", Y/n mimicked Jerome's answer from earlier meeting his gaze again stopping her jumping on the rocks keeping her balance to not fall into the stream "I wanted a break from the mess before the shows, you know how it is...", Jerome nodded understanding taking his hands out of his pockets sitting down on the nearest cut trunk, she continued to watch him jumping on the rock in front of her slowly approaching him breaking the silence again "you? What are you doing all alone in the woods? Aren't you afraid?" she made an amused grimace at him receiving a snorting laugh in response "afraid? You should be, I've heard there are wolves around here", Y/n laughed amused finally coming to him dropping down on the grass next to the cut trunk where he was sitting "after Lila, I don't think wolves still scare me", this statement made Jerome laugh followed shortly by her who was the first to stop laughing still admiring the stream murmuring "and then I don't need to fear wolves, because I know you would be there to protect me, right? "Jerome met the girl's gaze, smiled, nodded, extended his hand and did the special greeting they had invented after their second meeting, falling back into a peaceful silence as they listened to the sounds of the surrounding woods and enjoyed each other's company.

-time skip-

It started to get dark, Jerome was the first to break the silence that had remained the whole time they had been sitting there "do you have to perform tonight?", Y/n didn't answer right away just breathing in the fresh air and turning to face him "I think it's going to rain later", they looked up at the sky not being able to see much because of the thick trees that surrounded them.

Without looking away from the treetops she answered the question he had asked her "yes, I'm performing after the Lloyd tonight, will you come to see me? "Jerome grinned and turned towards her, meeting her gaze for the umpteenth time and answering with an "always", making the little girl smile even more, as she continued to search for something in her pockets, pulling out a white napkin, tied up in such a way as to act as a small bag, She handed it to Jerome, turning to look at the stream for the last time, "Speaking of best friends, I saved you some cookies," Jerome grabbed the napkin and opened it, smiling at the sight of the cookies, getting up from the log to help her.

The little ginger turned around looking towards the little road he had taken earlier, Y/n followed his gaze understanding, she nodded briefly without stopping smiling at his best friend "we should head back towards the trailers", Jerome nodded confirming reaching her quickly walking side by side with her eating the cookies without being able to stop smiling "did you manage to get that old television to work? ", the little girl smiled proudly, nodding quickly "yes, our movie night isn't cancelled, we can watch something right after I finish performing", Jerome nodded agreeing with her that they would meet backstage right after.

[ms-katonic-of-tamriel]

Prodigal Dragonborn AU

What if Lucien had made a sensible decision, exercised some judgement and hired Teldryn instead of some ex-reavers?

Well, his and Miraak’s relationship is a bit less intense because he has someone else there to talk to about things.  He realises Miraak is interested a lot sooner because he has Teldryn there to ask all the ‘is this normal??’ questions to.  Teldryn thinks this is hilarious but does answer as honestly and helpfully as he can.

Teldryn will claim he’s there because Lucien is paying him but it soon becomes obvious Teldryn is platonically very fond of Lucien and is keeping him out of trouble as much because Lucien dying would hurt as for the money.

Teldryn is less certain about Miraak but they do agree on keeping Lucien out of trouble, even if Miraak does look down on him a bit for being just the hired help whereas he’s there because he wants to be.

The dynamic is also affected by Miraak resurrecting and seeing not Lucien being attacked by bandits but Lucien and Teldryn arguing over a map, clearly lost.  They’re the ones who have to help Miraak and while Lucien is happy to help, Teldryn is a bit warier about a man who was literally buried alive and that was not a new grave, sera.  He also knows the voice but he’s not sure from where.

Miraak doesn’t get the Saviik name, because he wasn’t the saviour here.  Lucien tries several Nordic names out to see if any of them sound familiar.  He hits on Svaknir and some part of Miraak likes that one.

They rescue the Skaal smith.  Lucien doesn’t kill a Thalmor on the beach, because Teldryn gets there first.  But when they first hear Miraak’s name, Teldryn starts to think things, and on hearing the story, he realises and wastes little time confronting Miraak.  Who is very remorseful and offers his head, with only the condition Teldryn take care of Lucien.  Lucien freaks out and talks everyone down, and Teldryn eventually agrees that perhaps having died once already is enough punishment and seeing as Miraak’s sorry and won’t do it again, maybe he can overlook it for now.

They’re not sure where to go next, but Miraak’s depressed and unhappy over being who he is, so after helping Tharstan out, they decide to get him off Solstheim and go see the Greybeards for advice.  Windhelm goes a lot more smoothly because Lucien’s never alone and Teldryn is very good at handling Rolff Stone-Fist.  No one is arrested and Ulfric is none the wiser.  Rayya notices the three of them, vaguely recognises Lucien but thinks nothing of it until Cicero arrives the next day.  She’s able to tell him High Hrothgar was mentioned, is the Nord a pilgrim then?

Cicero reunites with Melinda early and they both go after Miraak, and the reunion happens a lot sooner.  Miraak is about as reasonable as he was in the main version, but Lucien and Teldryn act as peacemakers and Melinda finally agrees to spare Miraak.  She’s secretly pleased to find him on a better path, and escorts him to meet the Greybeards, who are surprised to see the First return but pleased to hear he’s found the path of wisdom.  Odahviing is less than pleased to see him, but Paarthurnax is delighted and Tinvaak Ensues.

Afterwards, Miraak still isn’t sure what to do, and it’s Melinda who suggests the College.  Questline happens!  So does the trip to the Reach!  And Lucien doesn’t lie about the mask because they all go to Jorrvaskr first and Melinda returns all Miraak’s things personally.  Breakup averted, although the relationship takes longer to get going.  They’re not really a couple until Labyrinthian because Lucien’s too nervous to do anything.  Miraak also wears the mask rather more, although not when relaxing of an evening or at the College.

No visions because Aranea never joins up... unless Teldryn fancies visiting the Shrine of course, but even then, with no Cicero or Melinda to make introductions, it’s less likely she’ll follow.

Labyrinthian involves the three of them plus the apprentices as well.  Everyone makes it.  But Morokei can tell Miraak is fond of Lucien, still targets him.  Miraak loses it and slaughters Morokei, Teldryn pushes Lucien out of the way and takes most of the damage.  Miraak is able to heal him and Lucien both, and Lucien wonders why Morokei went for him, everyone else present was more of a threat, despite all the training.  Miraak at this confesses he’s in love with Lucien - this is a surprise to no one but Lucien himself.  They’d talked things over a bit but Lucien hadn’t been ready for anything.  He’s still not but realising the true depths of Miraak’s feelings does get him thinking.  After defeating Ancano they talk and Lucien decides he could learn a lot from Miraak, and he’s very fond of him and loves being in his company, but an actual relationship with anyone is scary.  But he wants to write Miraak’s life story, maybe a song, he’s been making notes already!  Could they... just spend time together?  Just the two of them?  Also Miraak gives the best hugs, could they do more of that.

Miraak is fine with all that, and then they notice Teldryn’s off paying his respects at the Shrine of Azura again, he does that an awful lot, Lucien hadn’t known he was that religious.  Miraak suspects it isn’t the goddess he’s after.

Anyway, they settle in at the College and while the Jarl is a problem, no siege materialises.  Ulfric can’t spare the troops, and Galmar’s still alive.  Still, the unauthorised research dragon does result in Grim coming north with a few reinforcements.  Just to keep an eye on things.  And see the research dragon.  Grim smooths things over with the Jarl and gets to meet the dragon, and while Miraak is no Stormcloak, he gets on with Grim.  Later finding out he’s really an Imperial is no surprise.

Morrigan still comes north but gets in to the College with no trouble this time.  The Forsworn are camped out at Snowveil Sanctum rather than the shrine.  Madanach gets a tour of the College, even meets Grim, and is the first to learn he’s an Imperial spy when Grim attempts to involve him in the war.  Madanach is surprised but says he’ll think about it... if Grim can get Tullius to meet him on neutral ish ground.  Miraak is involved at this point as a respected arbiter and agrees.  The secret meeting will happen at Labyrinthian. 

Dumzbthar still happens.  Miraak triples Lucien’s knowledge in about five minutes, and Lucien still finds this incredibly arousing but doesn’t have the nerve to say anything.  The cult were still able to work out Miraak had left with Lucien and might return to Dumzbthar.  Teldryn’s less than pleased to see them all, but Miraak’s delighted.  The actual visit is much the same, except Hahvulon’s not really Lucien’s bodyguard because Teldryn has that job.  Lucien asks Teldryn if he wants to leave, he must owe him more cash by this point, but Teldryn says no, he’s sticking around.

Miraak nearly dies.  Lucien is heartbroken and realises then he loves Miraak too.  When Miraak wakes, it’s to Lucien holding his hand and telling him how worried he was, and it’s clear Lucien was truly distressed at the thought of losing Miraak.  They’ve been on a few dates at this point, and regularly have dinner together, and Miraak’s kissed Lucien’s hand, cuddled him and kissed his forehead, but nothing else.  Until now when Miraak reaches up for Lucien and kisses him gently on the lips and tells him it’s all right, he’s here, and won’t die on him, not this time.  Lucien returns the kiss, all nerves forgotten and the two of them are a couple from that moment on.

Lucien writes to his parents and requests Grigio, and while he’s not actually living in the quarters, Miraak gets him a key and agrees he can store his things in here if he likes.

Lucien does tell Miraak about Dumzbthar, because he could already tell Miraak was of like mind, and the Dwemer research kicks off.

Lyra and Davidicus still come.  They still bring Grigio.  They arrive at the College with no trouble, and everyone loves the cat.  Miraak persuades them to stay for a bit.

Melinda still ends up as Jarl, and the Ebony Blade still ends up in Ulfric’s hands.  Miraak isn’t Jarl but his involvement with the Secret Labyrinthian conference impresses Tullius.  Lyra and Melinda both also come, Melinda because why not invite the new Jarl of the neutral hold, and because Lyra’s Legion connections are too good to waste.

Kraldar likely ends up as Jarl of Winterhold rather than Miraak, but it makes little difference, Kraldar is a bit in awe of the dynamic new Archmage and lets Miraak mostly do as he pleases, including inviting Nirnologists over from Cyrodiil, building a Tinvaakaan for the dragons, and aiding in rebuilding the entire town in the style of the Ancient Nords, complete with Temple of Jhunal.

Teldryn decides to stick around in Winterhold instead, just to keep an eye on Lucien and help if Lucien has any more sentient Dwemer ruins he’d like to explore.  Miraak gets him a house in town, and it’s no surprise when Aranea moves in with him.

From there, I believe the ending’s much the same, but I’ve not written this part yet so will remain quiet.  A lot changes!  But a lot doesn’t.

I do like the slow-burn romance, but the plot seems a little less exciting somehow.  Less conflict due to Teldryn being the Voice of Reason all the time.  No Dramatic Rescue with a submarine, or the Flaviuses getting taken prisoner.

It’s a perfectly good story and could have worked... but I also rather like the version I’m actually writing.