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carmenized-onions · 6 months ago

Text

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

#carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto #the bear fx #carmy the bear #the bear x you #the bear #the bear x reader #the bear fanfiction

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yuurei20 · 2 months ago

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I heard from someone that Azul is actually very strong although he's not very athletic because he's an octo merman he's mostly muscle they said that Floyd has talked about it in bean fest I wanted to know if Azul being insanely strong was just a headcannon or cannon cause its kinda funny to me azul could carry professor vargas that one event on his own when prof vargas is pure muscle

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! 🐙

Yes yes! The first information we receive about Azul being stronger than he looks is from Floyd during Beanfest, who explains,

"Who said anything about Azul bein' weak without his magic? He's real strong. He's slow on land and in water, and he's got lousy athletic reflexes, but that doesn't mean he's weak."

"Azul's bigger than me in the water, and he's got eight huge, heavy limbs. His submission holds are bad news, and he's got crazy grip strength. If he so much as snags you, he can snare you with your arms pinned.

Octopi are, like, all muscle. Seems to me like that wouldn't go poof just 'cause he took a potion to turn himself human.

I'm just spitballin' here, obviously. But all I'm saying is that writing Azul off is a bad idea."

(All of the above dialogue is 100% accurate to the original game! Floyd's "I'm just spitballin' here" line might make it seems like he is just guessing and doesn't actually know, but his original line is closer to, "I don't know all the details," and sounds more like he knows this information is fact, he just can't give a physiology lesson on how it all works.)

But Floyd's information is a little vague: he says Azul has "crazy grip strength" and his "submission holds are bad news," but that is the same line where he talks about Azul in his merform--so is he talking about mer-Azul or human-Azul? Or is he not making a distinction because there isn't one?

Can Azul snare people and pin them down on land, or was Floyd half-relating an anecdote from when they lived underwater?

But then came Book 6 and a line from Azul himself saying that his "arms are quite powerful," unlike Riddle's.

This seems to confirm that Azul is physically stronger than most people, but then comes the thunder spear:

Riddle asks for help lifting it and Azul struggles under its weight, despite how this would have been the ideal opportunity to illustrate how physically capable Azul really is.

But maybe the thunder spears are a tall order for anyone to lift? They're weapons from the age of the gods--maybe they just weren't designed for humans (or creatures in human form) to lift on their own?

Except:

There is Leona, who both lifts and wields the thunder spear entirely on his own, twice (he gets help from Jamil the third time).

But the rules of the thunder spears are unclear: after Team-OctaHearts' spear goes into energy-saving mode Riddle says, "I should be able to handle it now on my own," insinuating that when they are not in attack-mode they are easier to wield.

Azul carries it at first but, due to his infamously poor stamina, he does eventually give it up to Riddle.

When Azul comments on how easy RIddle makes carrying the spear look Riddle explains, "I spend most of my time learning magic. I have ever since I was born," insinuating that he is using a form of magic (perhaps levitation) to carry it and maybe does not have it physically in his arms at all.

(Vil explains that the spears are difficult to control in attack-mode due to the amount of energy they give off.)

And that asks questions about levitation that I have always wondered about!

During Glorious Masquerade Epel is only capable of carrying one crate of apples at a time.

When Malleus levitates an entire apple truck Epel comments, "I'm pretty sure only Malleus could pull off a feat like that…"

Are levitation and physical strength connected? Malleus says that he is physically stronger than humans even without his magic, so he does not serve as a good example.

Is Epel only capable of levitating one crate of apples because that is the limit of what he would be able to accomplish physically? Or do his magical limitations mirror his physical limitations by coincidence?

We know that Leona is extremely powerful (re: Leona's Power). Is Leona both physically stronger than an octopus mermaid and magically stronger than Azul, or is Azul physically stronger than Leona, but his magic wasn't enough for the spear?

And then there is the fact that Azul is, magically, extremely strong:

Jade comments that Azul's unique magic is too strong for even him to control (which is why he designed the golden contracts--to artificially rein himself in). Does that apply to all of Azul's magic, or is it just his UM?

Someone with the muscle of an octopus and a magic too strong to be wielded by its own user seems like they should be able to control a thunder spear on their own--but maybe Leona is just that strong? 🦁

To the original question:

Yes! It is canon that Floyd has said that Azul is insanely strong, and Azul himself has repeated it, but--

edit:

Ahhh thank you very much to the anonymous asker who mentioned Azul's Tapis Rouge vignette! 🥳 In-game example of Azul flexing his physical strength!!📝

And thank you to @basuralindo for the reference to Azul prying Stitch off of the prefect! 🐙 (Azul: "You might've thwarted my efforts entirely if we hadn't been underwater.")

And thank you again to @basuralindo and @mellosdrawings for the Vargas Camp references!! 📝

In a vignette we have Azul volunteering to carry a load of wood for Kalim. He pretends to be struggling under the weight in order to leave a lasting impression of his efforts, but as we cannot tell how much wood there is that he is hauling it can be difficult to tell how heavy it truly is--but then there is Vargas👀

At Trey's request, Jade and Azul are assigned the task of evacuating a bound Grim and Vargas from the mine. Jade takes Grim and runs away, leaving Azul behind alone with the prefect to handle Vargas--did he know that Azul would not struggle with carrying him?💪

Azul does ask for the prefect's help, but only because he is worried about bumping Vargas' head against the rocks--he does not say anything about struggling to carry him!

And this sounds very similar to a comment from Malleus on carrying Idia and Azul through the narrow stairwells of the bell tower during Glorious Masquerade! 🐉🐙

#twstask #twisted wonderland

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noras-dc-shenanigans · 1 year ago

Text

Adoption | Learn

“So let me get this straight.”

Danny stared at the group of vigilantes in front of him, a look of utter disbelief etched onto his face.

“Batman had a baby with Catwoman, she hid it from him, gave the baby up for adoption, and that baby is me. And you’re all here because Batman’s other ex also had a hidden pregnancy, but she’s a homicidal maniac who wants to make sure her son is the only blood child because of some weird cult rules?”

If they’d been in a cartoon, there’s be crickets chirping. He continued, voice growing less disbelieving and more angry as he went.

“And because some cult wants to kill me, I have to give up my whole life, cut off all contact with my family and friends, go live in a state 900 miles away, and stay cooped up— for an unknown amount of time— in Bruce Wayne’s mansion, because that’s who Batman really is.”

A stilted silence filled the room of the safe house Danny had been dragged to a few hours ago, sans the unnecessarily long explanation he’d just summarized.

After a few more moments, Nightwing stepped forward and smiled gently at him an oh, that rankled Danny. He did not need whatever kid gloves the guy was about to pull on. Before Bluebell had a chance to open his mouth, Danny channeled his inner Jazz and raised his hand for silence. Nightwing paused, and Danny proceeded to give them all a single, flat, unimpressed look, and then stated factually,

“I’m not leaving, I’m not staying with yet another frootloop billionaire, and I’m not in the least concerned with dying. So. You can all go back to where you belong, I’ll stay here, where I belong, and if any cultist come knocking I’ll deal with them just like I’ve been dealing with every other threat in this town the last six months: alone. Because apparently the entire Justice League is too busy to respond to calls for help about inter-dimensional threats popping in and out of my parents basement on a daily basis.”

… Okay, so Danny may have been yelling a bit by the end, but it was justified! And oh, Danny really wished his life was a cartoon right now, because that cricket chirping would be been perfect. He’s pretty sure he broke a few of them. Nightwing looked ready to cry.

Good. Danny was too tired to deal with this sh*t.

Thanks to the whole Pariah Dark thing last month, Danny was apparently immortal now anyways, so even if the cult people managed to completely destroy his body, he’d just reform in the Zone. Because he was now connected to it, and only another ghost could End him like he had Pariah, because of some weird dimensional rules. Apparently, since humans couldn’t rule the Infinite Realms, they just, like… didn’t qualify to kill him. That went for aliens, demons, gods, and other non-human beings of sentience.

So Danny’s got that going for him at least. About time something useful came outta this whole disaster of a school year.

But he’d gotten off track. Before him stood a truly ridiculous number of vigilantes, and they all looked like he’d just slapped them with a fish and then played violin with it. For a few minutes, Danny just basked in the stuttering and bewildered looks, before he noticed Nightwing drawing himself up in righteous determination and decided that yeah, he was done now.

At this point, being a dramatic a**hole to people (or ghosts) who were annoying him was just second nature, so he straightened to attention, raised his hand in a salute, and then let himself sink through the floor, perfectly stoic.

The stuttering turned to panicked shouts, and Danny’s last view of his apparent siblings was a few people lunging for him and missing, winding up tangled together on the carpet.

‘Ahhhh, yesss, I will treasure that memory always! Ah well, time to get home! Maybe I should scout out for those cult people, mess around with them. Maybe follow them back sometime, meet my half-brother. That could be fun, me and Ellie can make a road trip of it this summer! Maybe by then, the Justice Losers will have gotten their heads out as their butts.’

Meanwhile, back at the safe house, several frantic calls were being made about the dimensional threats and the League of Assassins and the possibly meta human, definitely vigilante brother.

Amity Park was about to get a lot more chaotic.

#DPxDCFamilyWeek #Danny Felton #Batfamily #Danny’s drama was inherited #Danny is a little sh*t #you tell ‘em Danny!

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spdrvyn · 1 year ago

Text

i'll be lonely with you — MIGUEL O'HARA

SUMMARY: with the passage of time and whispers from your acquaintances at the spider society HQ, you've found out that your boss has a habit of sneaking out of his office during the dead hours of night to eat dinner. completely alone.

NOTES: new formatting for fics !!! do you guys like it? :3 i decided to include summaries that way it would be easier for people to understand the general jist of the plot without me spewing nonsense in the notes. anyways enjoy !!!!! thanks for the support on my recent works as well ^_^

You didn't consider yourself the most introverted person.

Even when it came to hundreds of Spider-people, you tried to get to know who you could and become acquainted with as many of them as possible. How could you not?

However, there were few that you knew on a more personal level. People that you'd keep close to your side whenever you visited headquarters. People that you'd enjoy having an exchange of gossip with during lunch in the bustling cafeteria.

Miguel O'Hara wasn't exactly one of those people.

It's not like you didn't want to develop something more than a boss-coworker relationship. Though, conversations with him were always difficult, to the say the least. Most of the time, he's talking about work and anything that goes past that boundary goes unspoken.

Quite literally. You've forgotten the amount of times that you've built up the courage to mention anything about your other (not deceased) relatives or your friends and the amount of times that the room was filled with a silence so awkward that crickets are on the same volume as missile launchers.

Though, you didn't want to lose hope. You sort of understood where he was coming from. People go through grief and mourning in different ways, Miguel's was probably just isolation and a complete avoidance of discussions of personal life.

He was a leader. A good one. A trait of a good leader is to connect with their subordinates, establish relationships. So it really made you think.

How messed up was he that he missed that one quality?

"Hey. Your food's getting cold." There it goes, the sound of your train of thought leaving the station. Sometimes, you were grateful for Jess being there for you. She could snap you back to reality you like nobody else could.

You mutter an apology before stabbing your salad with your fork and taking a bite, Jess rests her head on her palm. Raising a brow at you, "So, did you want to eat lunch with me for fun or are you just using me to get info about Miguel? Again?"

Nervously, you shake your head. "It's nothing like that!" She leans in a little more, waving her other free hand in the air in a circular motion.

"...But if you have anything that you'd like to share then I'm not going to refuse entirely—"

"Oh my god. Fine, fine. What do you want to know?"

With that question, it felt like your mind blanked. You fidgeted with your fork, twirling a leaf of your salad against the plate as you pondered on what question to ask.

Jess responds with a deep sigh, "If you're trying to find a way to talk to him more, he doesn't leave that office of his much unless it's for work. He's in there most of time. Although..."

"Although?"

"Although, I've seen him come here normally somewhere around midnight to get a very late dinner alone. The place is less crowded, most are just in their own universe or sleeping or working."

Your face falls a little upon hearing that. "So I can only catch a non-serious conversation with him... in the middle of the night?"

"Exactly. Besides, there's a good chance he's going to just— continue talking about work with you whether he's in his office or not. You know that, right?"

You drop your utensil in defeat, burying your face shamefully in your hands. "I know..."

You quickly wrap up your lunch with Jess, as she shares bits and pieces about him. You had really wondered how she was able to learn all of these things about him anyway but before you had the opportunity to ask her, she told you to not.

Respecting her wishes, you keep your mouth shut. Respecting her even further, you decide to pack up both of your plates and wave her a goodbye before picking up those thoughts that you were left a while ago.

Admittedly, you didn't know why you were so persistent for something like this, for someone like him.

Determination was a strength of yours but that didn't mean that you didn't know where your limits rested and you would back off when you needed to.

There was just something. A swirling feeling in your gut that was telling you to keep going.

That it would be worth it.

So, you follow everything that Jess told you. Around midnight, he'd be alone, in the cafeteria, and looking for an empanada to snack on before heading back into his office. A very small fraction of his time left for personal conversation if you tried hard enough!

This most likely wasn't a good idea. You didn't sleep at all through the day but the thrill kept you alive and thriving. You confidently stride up to the counters of the cafeteria, picking out a small bag of chips for yourself and the last empanada for your soon-to-be snack companion.

Now, you wait.

You surveyed your surroundings and as you were doing that, you realize why he particularly emerges during these kinds of hours to eat. There was a significantly less amount of people.

Whenever you came here during the day, it was a miracle to be able to find completely empty seats. At times, you were forced to sit with a group of people.

You weren't entirely ungrateful for that though, you've made a lot of friends that way. Sure, it was awkward at first but the more you were forced to interact with people that way, the more you adapted to making small talk.

Even then, there were a lot of tables that were taken here save for one completely empty one at the far end.

Then, you finally see that navy and red suit.

Deciding to observe him just a little bit more, you watch him curse under his breath seeing the display case for the empanadas empty. Before he walks away any further, you tap him on the shoulder.

His mask was on, his eyes widen a little bit before you hand him the small box. "I saved the last one for you."

With a soft huff, you see the muscles in his shoulders and back grow loose once more, he hestitantly takes the container from your hands. Looking at it then looking back at you, "Thanks."

You two share a few seconds of awkward silence, you felt a little exposed. You decided to unmask for this because you wanted him to feel more comfortable talking to you rather than who you were as a Spider-person yet there's still that same awkwardness in the air.

Clearly without nothing to do and no idea on how to makem something better out of this, Miguel's about to walk off before you stop him once more.

"W— wait," A little piece of yourself dies inside as you hear yourself stutter but nevertheless, you keep going. "Uh, there aren't any other spots so is it alright if I sit you? I don't know any of the people here."

The way that you see the eyes through his masks narrow ever so slightly once the question escapes your throat makes your heart quiver like crazy.

You wanted to get to know him but damn, if you said that he didn't scare you sometimes then you would be lying.

You cry on the inside with sweet victory as he says...

"Fine."

That was it. That was all you got but you gladly take it! You have to catch up to him though because once you're done mentally celebrating, he's already a little bit far from you.

You try your hardest to keep your head straight but you can't help but look up and spare him one glance, the fact that you even had to look up at him really only emphasized your height difference with him.

Another factor that made you just a little bit more intimidated by him, his physique. You considered yourself to be of average height, you weren't the tallest person in the room but you were never the shortest as well. Just average.

The way he practically towered over you, his hand nearly being the size of your head. It made you feel something.

The moment that both of you have a seat, you take your opportunity.

"So, is there anything that you plan on doing after this?"

You get a little distracted once his mask comes off, he raises an eyebrow at you, crimson eyes that feel like they're looking straight into your soul. Though, side-tracked as he bites into the dough and meaty goodness of his empanada, with a shrug— he replies,

"Not really. Unless there's an anomaly I haven't heard of yet then I have no plans. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing. Was just curious is all." Why was this so hard?!

The conversation goes as what you expected. You'd ask a question every moment or so and he'd give you a short response before going back to his food. He wouldn't ask you anything back, wouldn't add any 'unnecessary' comments. Just bask in the silence.

You simply couldn't take it anymore, you didn't know how to express your interest in him without asking him more questions about himself which he seems to avoid trying to answer.

You couldn't ask him about his hobbies because he'll most likely say that he's too busy working to actually spend time gaining and branching out to different interests.

Dejectedly, you sigh. "I'm sorry for imposing— on your alone time, I mean." It was like everything that you wanted to say just kept spilling out of your mouth.

"I didn't want to eat with you at this hour because I pity you or— or I found you lonely or whatever. I just thought that whenever you weren't talking about work, we'd be able to get along."

You stand up from your seat, eyes mindlessly darting arounf the labels of the bag of 'Spider-O's' in your clutches.

"I'll, uhm, let you eat in peace now. Once again, I'm—"

"Wait."

Which ever brain cells died from that interaction certainly reignited now. "Sit back down," It comes off an order. An order you certainly obey.

"I wouldn't have actually said yes to you if I didn't want to talk." He starts. "I know a lot of people but it's not in the same way that you do. I know their names, their faces, their canon events. You know their feelings, their mindscapes, and their troubles—"

"—And those are the exact kinds of things that I can't comprehend most of the time. We understand people differently, is what I'm saying. I still have no idea why exactly you sought out me of all people but I will... try to gain this new perspective of things."

You want to tamp down the smile that creeps up on your lips as you hear those words but you can't. What he said, it all made sense now. You couldn't see the full picture still, but you were willing to find it—

"I understand. It's fine."

"So? Do you have plans after this?"

Together.

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #fluff #romance #kind of #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv #jessica drew #jess drew #spiderwoman #made this one extra sappy for u guys #miguel can be #so hard to write sometimes #hope i did him justice here

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be-missed · 1 year ago

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Not Strong Enough (Chap 1)

Jenna Ortega X Fem!Reader

(Pictures not mine)

Summary: Jenna was visiting her mom in the hospital to drop off the food that will be eaten for the hospital party, but she met a resident surgeon and she thought "God forbid I ran into an accident, but I want her to open me and stitch me up." While the surgeon tries her best to keep her fan girling low-key.

Warning: Probably mentions of kniv3s and blad3s or any surgical equipment. A few curse words as of now.

A/N: So plan on making a series, I don't know how long this will take and I don't want to say any promises. Hope you enjoy the story!

Masterlist

_________________________________________________________

Chapter 1

"Mom said I should drop by the hospital and bring the pizza she ordered earlier." Jenna yelled to her family while going down their front door.

"Okay sweetheart, you take care and kiss your mother for me" her dad said while blowing Jenna a kiss.

Starting the car and connecting her bluetooth, now she is ready to drive. As the traffic lights hit red, she remembered that one of her friend recommended her a song to listen to, and she played it as the light turn to green.

Humming to the addicting beat of the song, she now try to find an empty parking lot at the hospital, which is a difficult task to do by the way, a heavy amount of people comes and goes, and some that probably stayed.

Jenna almost passed a white civic that left the spot as she sigh, now this is the hardest part, harder than finding a parking lot, is to park the car itself, she is having a hard time since she is used to her mom beside her and helping her to look at the back. But she needs to be a big girl now and do this.

A minute or so have passed and Jenna congratulated herself by parking her car so good that it follows the line and got the sides an equal space. She picks her phone up and messaged her mom that she's going up to her.

While walking through the lobby of the hospital, she noticed that some people are occupied to not notice her which she is thankful since she doesn't want to have a crowd and some people looked at her and she smiled politely at them. Reaching the elevator, she pressed the close button so fast so that nobody can be with her inside it.

Humming with the elevator music, floors passes by and the doors open with a ding, walking through the same designed hallway makes her remember that scene from her old movie scream. As she reached the reception like part of the floor, she smiled brightly and tried to ask one of the nurse that was standing beside the desk.

"Uhm hey, excuse me.." Jenna started but got cut-off when the nurse got called in the surgery room for extra hands, so what she did next is to ring the table bell to attract some attention that she needs to find her mom.

"Hello, how can I help you?" a woman appeared from the back room with the brightest smile she could ever see.

Stagnant. Freeze. Stop. Pause.

That was what Jenna like for a second, and the person standing opposite to her started to panic "Hey, are you okay? Do you need water?" Y/N stated.

"Oh.. I... I need my mom." Jenna stated while trying to compose herself "Uhm, no, I mean... Yes, yes I need my mom."

The woman in front of her gives her a questionable look... "Miss I don't know who your mom is, may I know her name so I can help you find her?" Y/N stated.

Well, Y/N knows, she definitely knows who is this girl in front of her, holding 3 large pizza boxes, this woman who is slightly smaller than her, has this wonderful freckles that painted her face, who have this deep dimple on her cheek, a wavy black hair and this cute bangs. Oh, definitely she is familiar with the woman in front of her.

"Oh I'm sorry, I'm here for Natalie Ortega, she works here." Jenna stated while smiling. Damn it, did she really just froze there and told this beautiful lady that she needs her mom. She noted to herself that she needs to practice on how to stay cool and not to lose her rizz when she faces a beautiful women.

"Nat? Your mom is Natalie" The woman in front of her looks like a light bulb appeared above her head "I think she's inside the surgery helping Dr. Ava, but let me go to the surgery room, I let her know that you are here." Y/N stated while going to the other side of the desk where Jenna is.

"Oh, you don't need to, I can just wait for her." Jenna said while trying to hold the 3 large pizza boxes.

Y/N shakes her head and said "It's okay, I need to actually do something, I've been sitting there for so long my feet might forget how to walk if I didn't stand." with a little laugh at the end. She know think "Nice what a lame joke."

"Well, thank you, these pizza boxes is getting heavier" Jenna said and Y/N helped her to put it on top of the desk.

Fingers brushed, eyes locked, and lips started to curl.

"Well uhm... may I know your name?" Y/N asked the girl in front of her.

Then Jenna thinks "wow this pretty girl is so into me, she wants to know my freaking name." Jenna was so proud of herself she accidentally said "Why? So you could add me to the blank space on your list?" with a slight wiggle of her brows and a little smirk.

Y/N looked at Jenna and was stunned with what the girl said, Y/N thinks "did she just flirt with me? I mean, can it be? Or am I just delusional?" Y/N composes herself and replied "Well, I need to know your name since I need to tell her that her daughter is here, right?"

"Ground, swallow me please oh please" with that reply Jenna just wants to be swallowed by the ground where she stood way down below where her parked car is. SHE THOUGHT WRONG.

Jenna tried to just laugh it off and answered "I'm Jenna, Jenna Ortega" and offers her hand.

"I'm Dr. Y/L/N, I'm a resident surgeon here. So you can seat by the waiting area and I'll go to your mom and tell her that her daughter needs her." Y/N said and winked at Jenna and started to walk to to the surgery room.

Jenna walked to the row of chairs and started to cringe at herself from the inside. She fished out her phone and texted Aliyah:

To Aliyah:

I met this cute doctor and my mind just went blank. WTF!

Fr Aliyah:

Well having no love life really has a side effect, lol.

To Aliyah:

You know what, you are not helping at all, BYE!

Fr Aliyah:

WELL HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO REACT?

To Aliyah:

IDK maybe comfort me? I'm your sister after all.

Fr Aliyah:

Just deliver the damn pizza and go home so you can tell me all

To Aliyah:

I will, when mom gets out, bye, love you.

Fr Aliyah:

Love you too, stay safe!

Jenna turns her phone off and was surprised with Y/N standing in front of her.

"What the hell, you could have given me a heart attack." Jenna said while holding her chest.

"That's good, you are in a hospital, in front of you is a doctor, we are surrounded by our lovely nurses, you will live if ever that happened" and Y/N gave her a cheeky smile.

"Geez thanks doc" Jenna answered sarcastically with a smile "Where is my mom then?"

"Well your mom said she can't go out of the surgery room and told me to help you instead to bring the pizza boxes in the break room since you need a keycard to go in there." Y/N replied while showing her I.D.

Jenna nod and said "Lead the way then." and smiled.

While walking, Y/N is now holding the pizza boxes while Jenna strolled along beside her.

"Why did you not get my attention earlier when I was sitting and you were standing in front of me?" Jenna asked.

"You were smiling, and I thought may be you are talking to your boyfriend so I waited until you turn off your phone. I don't want to interrupt you know." Y/N answered.

Even if it is hard for her to think that Jenna have a boyfriend, she doesn't have the say when it comes to it.

"Okay. Then why is this the first time that I see you here? You said you were a resident yet I haven't seen you in my past visits?" Jenna asked, again.

Y/N replied "It's my third month here and maybe you just don't visit during my work time that's why we don't see each other."

Jenna nodded and accepted it as a valid reply.

Y/N opened taps her I.D and opened the door for Jenna to come in first "Here is the break room, and thank you for the pizza, I have been craving these for days, thank God Nat bought it for us."

"So, you and my mom are close huh?" Jenna asked again, which Y/N noticed.

"Well yes, she is approachable, sweet, and kind so, what's not to like about your mom." Y/N said with a smirk.

"Woah there, do you like my mom, just to inform you my dad and her is in a healthy relationship and we are a happy family." Jenna answered a bit annoyed. BECAUSE, why would you like her mom if she is literally in front of you. HELLO?! ARE YOU BLIND!?

"Hey, I didn't tell that I like your mom, I'm sorry if that's how you interpret it, she just makes me feel welcomed, okay? And your mom is pretty, but I like someone, yeah?" Y/N replied but inside her head, its is all "IT IS YOU, YOU DUMBASS, I LIKE YOU NOT YOUR MOM."

"Okay, I'm sorry too, I just get defensive when it comes to my family." Jenna smiled .

"Well if that is all that you need, then we finished our task. I also need to go back there, I have a surgery in 30 minutes." Y/N said with a sad smile.

"Sure, I'm sorry for holding you off." Jenna said while they go out of the room.

Walking back, Y/N didn't stopped by the reception and accompanied Jenna to the elevator.

Y/N broke the silence and took Jenna's arm which she was surprised while Y/N scribbled on her skin.

The elevator dinged which indicated that Jenna needs to go.

"See you around Jen!" Y/N stated while she rushed off.

Jenna was so baffled with the action and just waved, as the elevator door close, she lifts her long sleeves and saw a note

"My number, just in case you have more questions."

In Jenna's head "DID SHE JUST GAVE ME HER NUMBER?! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK" and smiled to herself.

She is now determined to go to the hospital more to visit her mom and a side quest to see you.

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Chap 2 A/N: Well I think that was a long one. Comments and suggestions are appreciated. Hope you enjoyed the story and hope you wait for the next chapters!

#jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #NotStrongEnough #fiction #fanfic #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter x reader

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luveline · 2 years ago

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hey lovely! <3 can i request a little something for aaron hotchner? maybe something where he’s being jealous/protective? i adore the way you write him! :)

this is like a very mini fic it's all over the place ♡ thank you for your request!! fem!reader cw weird guy tries to kiss you

You're in New Jersey of all places trying to find a serial killer, and in your opinion, Hotch is being entirely unprofessional.

You're also really enjoying it, but that's not the point.

There's a police officer that isn't flirting with you, really, more like he's a touchy guy in general. You're working as the conduit between the team and the police force, and so every time you tell this touchy guy something, it's an opportunity for him to say thank you.

This guy says thank you with a quick shoulder touch.

You feel guilty, admittedly. While Hotch isn't quite your boyfriend, he isn't not your boyfriend — you're working it out. Or rather, he's working it out. You'd walk into the middle of the road if he asked you to, but Hotch has hang ups about interwork relationships. He's hesitant because he worries about the inherent power imbalance between you.

It's fine though. You're hoping he'll come around eventually. And eventually might come sooner rather than later, with the way he's glaring holes in this guy's head.

"Is he making you uncomfortable?" Hotch asks you.

The door closes behind your guilty police officer. You'd prefer it if the police officer didn't touch you at all, but he isn't necessarily making you uncomfortable.

"It's alright," you placate, feeling the eyes of both Spencer and Rossi on you like laser beams.

Hotch nods and goes back to work. A small tell, and huge in the eyes of profilers.

You get further into the case and forget about the guy's touches, but you don't think Hotch can. He sits next to you at every opportunity, and insists you ride shotgun on the way back to the hotel. You have separate rooms, wouldn't dream of ever sharing one with him, so it shocks you like lightning when he invites you in for 'coffee'.

You sit on the end of his bed.

"Are you mad at me?" you ask, a moment of weakness.

He's very tense. Less so at your question, he pulls his weight off of the closed door and sits beside you on the bed. "Of course not." Then, because he's too smart and too himself to avoid the issue, "I'm sorry if I'm being forward."

"I like you, Hotch. You know I do," you say. In lieu of, Be forward, please. You don't speak with any particular inflection. It's the stone cold truth, and you aren't mad at him for anything. Not his hesitancy to be with you, or his jealousy.

"You don't think it's arrogant?" he asks.

"I think it's kind of nice. It's reassuring," you amend softly, "to know you want me to yourself."

That sounded better in your head. Thankfully, all Hotch does is nod. "I do."

"Okay, good. You can keep glaring at Officer Paulson, then."

He smiles at you, half defeat, half fondness. "His name is Poulton."

"Is it?"

His smile doubles. He places his hand across the sheets, palm up. You place your hand in his.

"You really need to get it together," you joke lightly.

"I know," he says.

The next day, you're back in the conference room of the Cherry Hill police department, hand pretty much on fire still from his touch where its resting on the desk as you jot down notes. Each time you remember how he'd held it, you'd fingers curl in on themselves, looking for Hotch's hand and not finding it.

You write down notes, not to be selfish, but because it really helps you connect the dots. You're not like Spencer, you can't store an infinite amount of knowledge up in your brain. You need space and time to work it out.

A cup of coffee appears to your right. A hand presses flat to the space between your shoulder blades. You beam at the tiny thumb movements and turn in your seat. "Oh… my god. Officer Pauls-ton." You laugh awkwardly, shrugging out from under his hand. "I thought you were someone else."

"I noticed you in here all by yourself and figured you could use some company."

Even if you'd been alone, and you had wanted company, and this was a dimension where Hotch didn't exist, Poulton's hand absolutely should not have been where it was. Now you're uncomfortable.

"Oh, no, that's alright. I'm just trying to make some connections here while everyone's out."

What a terrible thing to admit. You can practically see the excitement on his face.

"Yeah? They always leave the pretty one behind?"

You laugh without meaning to. Usually, Spencer is the one running point, so he's technically right. "You could say that."

"This all seems pretty boring."

You lean away as he leans forward. You're surprised — you've never been cornered like this, whether he means to do it or not.

"It's my job," you explain.

"Now why would a girl like you do something so gruesome?"

"Uh-" You laugh clumsily, wondering how the fuck you're gonna get out of this situation. You start by standing up and turning to him completely, the backs of your thighs pressed against the desk you'd been working on hard enough to ache. "A girl like me? I love the work we do."

"You don't find it boring?"

"Sometimes, but-"

"I can think of a few ways to liven it up in here."

This is the kind of thing your girlfriend's have told you about, over-imposing creeps who use a facade of niceness to get close. Officer Poulton has known you for all of three days, and while you've been friendly, you've never given any indication that you want to be seduced in a public work space.

"No, I don't think so."

"Come on, baby."

He steps toward you, hands moving to take your waist. You side step around him, eyes on the door, and he follows.

His fingers close around your wrist, and he says, "Where are you going?"

You yank your hand away and glare at him, other hand behind you and opening the door. You close it between you. You want to call someone. One of your friends, your team. Your heart races.

You can't tell if you were in danger or not.

You make your way through the bullpen to the women's restroom and hide in one of the stalls, typing a quick text to Garcia, who's most likely to respond.

Weirdo just tried to kiss me at CH PD. Hiding in the bathroom. Swear some guys see a polite smile and take it as enthusiasm. :[

You don't want her to panic, so you add, It's fine, though. How are things back home?

You spend a little time in there, as much as you can allow, hoping desperately that Officer Poulton has left the conference room so you can get back to work in peace.

he did wt? R u ok??? wts his address?

The bathroom smells like bleach, and the toilet tank behind you drips. It's cold, and you feel an odd mixture of embarrassed and ashamed, though you don't have any reason to feel either.

I must have said something to him, you think scornfully. Something that made him think-

You shake your head. That guy's just an oddball. He saw signals where there weren't any. You didn't do anything wrong.

After some mild internal debate you stand up to face the music. You're barely a step outside of the bathroom when you're bumping into Emily, who's expression floods with relief.

"What happened?" she asks urgently.

"What?"

"Garcia said some guy came onto you? Officer Touchy?" Her eyes are sympathetic, her lips pinched into a friendly, pitying pout.

You gawp. "She told you?"

"What did he do?"

"Nothing awful, he just- he put hid hand behind my back and I- he was leaning over me so I tried to leave and he grabbed my wrist. It wasn't anything more than that."

"He grabbed you?" she asks.

You look up to find Hotch a few paces behind. His expression is unreadable. His tone, less so.

"Are you okay?" he asks, all the airs of someone taking pre-measures.

"I'm perfect. He barely touched me. I only told Penelope because I-" Why did you tell Penelope? "I don't know. He surprised me."

"I'm going to speak to the Chief of police," he says. "If you'll be alright?"

"I'm fine, there's really no need."

"It's disrespectful," Emily says, fiercely protective over her friends no matter what. "We're here to help them and you've got officers acting like frat boys."

Hotch says your name, pulling both of your attentions. "You're sure you're okay?"

You smile at him softly. It's good of him to be so concerned, but unnecessary. "I'm fine, I promise."

He takes your word for it and turns around. Emily lets out a low whistle.

"Someone's in for it," she says.

You don't know how right she is until you hear his raised voice. Chills run down your spine at his tone, so formidable, so sternly contained.

"Touch my agent again and you'll be working desk jockey for the rest of your career. Do I make myself clear?"

You can't hear it, but you imagine the answer is, "Clear."

That night, laid like two twin commas invested toward one another, you ask, "'My agent'?"

"You're one of mine, aren't you?" Hotch asks quietly.

"But am I yours?" you ask.

He wraps his arm around your shoulders, the bulk and curve of his bicep firm against your neck, and smiles, lips resting at the crown of your head.

"Do you want to be?" he asks.

You curl into his touch and embrace, warmed by his body heat and the blanket he's taken care to pull up to your chest. He smells like toothpaste and eucalyptus body wash, his hair still damp from the shower. You breathe him in indulgently, and you close your eyes to sleep without responding to his question. He already knows the answer.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds

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slaaverin · 17 days ago

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Last bluemoonpunch's reading

Excuse me ladies and gentleman but this here is my last day as a jikooker, I'm retiring. Can't take it anymore.

Their last reading is REALLY enlightening. I'm so mind-blown I need to share a few snippets so that the message truly sink in.

*speaking of "Temperance"

"It is quite nice though if you consider that no matter how much other people try and destroy their image, and no matter how much they limit themselves for the sake of peace, they remain a star, the remain as some kind of celestial image that you can imagine floating brightly in the sky, looking down on everything with a sense of understanding and compassion."

Jimin really is an absolute angel, just putting that here because with the amount of hate he receives on the daily I would have lost it.

Now about the relationship:

"This is quite funny because all throughout this I’ve been trying to figure out if this is a connection that is already in play on a conscious and physical level, or if I’m just picking up on the inherent soul connection. With these cards it’s like saying, “No, I’m not WAITING for this person, they’re right here! No, I’m not SNEAKING AROUND with this person, they’re right here! No, you’re not MISSING anything, it’s right here!”"

DON'T YOU SAY? IT'S RIGHT THERE? I WONDER WHAT THIS COULD BE. OH MY. crying shaking throwing up currently

"The 7 of Swords shows a person sneaking around, specifically stealing swords and doing so in a way that’s going to trip him up. If we consider the potential of Temperance also being in the entertainment industry, there may be a need to keep things quiet, but there is no desire, with the card in reverse, to go unnoticed. The swords are still held by the blade, words, confirmation are still held back, but there is no desire to hide or “sneak around.” This connection is a visible connection to both him and other people."

Did I tell you that recently Jungkook put Jimin's name on his chest? I think they really want it to be visible. And we saw it, because we have two functioning eyes.

"It’s like they were signaling or trying to slyly put themselves out there, but people refused or maybe even denied the connection in terms of their companies or management refusing a public relationship. On some level people are refusing them while accepting others and it’s very frustrating and confusing, specifically to Jungkook. It seems like, from that higher perspective, Temperance understands it, does not like it but understands it and is more compliant with the idea of needing to sneak or keep things hidden. There actually does seem to be a lot of frustration in this set now that I’m lingering on this one — “No, you’re not MISSING anything, it’s right here!”"

Well Jungkook did do a live entirely focused on Jimin basically professing his undying love for him. So it's safe to say he's not really into the "sneaking around" thing, if he could tell the world right now our man would in a heartbeat. Thank god Jimin is the level-headed one lmao

"The 10 of Pentacles is more externalized and has to do with legacy and building up wealth, status, and solid foundations for themselves and their family that can be trusted, that can not be undone or taken away. The 10 of Cups is more internalized and represents absolute bliss, absolute personal, internal happiness and satisfaction with what is there. Both of these cards imply family, marriage, and growing old together."

Until they are 50? Until the end of their lives? Family? Ok this is for me folks, I can die in fucking peace. Not that it's not something we already knew but STILL.

As jikookers we truly always win it's crazy *unhinged laugh*

Let me go back to sleep it's 5am.

It's only little snippets but I highly encourage you to go read the full reading for better understanding.

Hey, look at us, who would have thought? Not me 👀 OR MAYBE WE KNEW ALL ALONG???? Anyway good stuff

Jikook are in love.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

Read here

#jikook #kookmin #jimin #jungkook #tarot reading

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danwhobrowses · 1 month ago

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I'm not sure how much good this vent will do, I'm not even sure I want to post this vent after my last one, but I'm writing it just so it's out of my head and into words because it seems once again fandom has chosen to send vitriol Ashton Greymoore's way.

What for? They talked to a 'specter' of the primordial titan within them, through their connection to the earth, the natural flow of creation and destruction. They ask what will happen to the world, it responds that it'll endure, they ask what of the people, it responds that the strong will survive and the weak will be remade into something stronger, to which Ashton replies they think they understand. To fandom this means that Ashton is becoming a fascist, that they have a 'Make Exandria Great Again' attitude for wanting the Primordials back, that they need to be beaten up or 'get what's coming to them' in order to change their mind, and I can only sit here and stew and wonder if this hate is really well-founded? Ashton is among my favourite characters in C3, I get frustrated by them at times too but if I think about it a big percentage of my frustrations is more towards people disliking them than me disliking things they do, or Matt setting up scenarios that doesn't do them any favours towards the fandom that hates them. Some of these are knee-jerk reactions of course, but for others it does feel like they have it out for Ashton, and I don't wanna engage with that, which makes it quite lonely when most of the fandom hones in on it.

For the most part I can understand how the whole 'the weak will be remade' bit can be taken badly; it's definitely iffy, but every other plan we have is also very iffy. The Release Predathos option literally involves unleashing an entity that wants to genocide the gods, the Maintain Status Quo option ('option' the status quo imo is impossible, in my mind the Gods can stay but the dynamic will still have to change) maintains a relationship where the gods pick and choose who they feel deserves help, using their power to covet more power, strongarm and demand loyalty, and overall choose fellow gods over mortals when the chips are down and not owning up to it. We should also remember that entities can speak in riddles, 'remade into something stronger' doesn't necessarily mean death; it could mean to adapt and grow, to become strong enough to bear and overcome it as many of the PCs of Critical Role have done with their hardships and trauma. It's worth reminding that the sad truth is that people will die whatever outcome happens - the aim is always to lessen the amount but if the Gods leave it's a power vacuum, if we linger too long it's a Calamity, and if the Gods stay it's a holy war on a more wild and less organized scale - and that Ashton isn't saying they approve of such death, merely that they think they understand. The commune doesn't tell Ashton which way to go; it only tells them that the world will endure, there will be change and it will change people, trees will still grow, the wind will still blow, the waves will still flow along the coasts of the sea, and people will survive. I know the interpretation can differ from people thanks to Matt's patented vague or riddle-mounted choices in phrase, but I also think if it was the Wildmother who told Orym or some other follower that 'nature is a cycle, everything must adapt to change or else it'll die - this world will change, but it will also survive' nobody would be calling Orym a fascist, people would accept it because the Wildmother's domain is nature, and nature is not always kind.

While we're mentioning Orym - and because this is gonna come off as critical I must preface that I like and enjoy All of the Hells, that's not changed - I also gotta call it out here because it does very much feel like the people who hate Ashton hate them for the reasons they love Orym. Both are stubborn, they're diligent in their personal code, they care deeply for their friends and would give their whole being just to keep them safe, they believe in the Hells' power and greatness more than each member does and more than they believe in their own, but Ashton gets the hate mainly because these fans agree more with Orym on the god stuff. What confuses me though is how these same haters can despise Ashton for being consistent but love Braius, the literal Devil Worshipper who secretly is on board with the Chase Away plan only so he can help the Devil rule the world, the compulsive liar. Where's Braius' scrutiny? A world under Asmodeus will be a far worse 'survival of the fittest' scenario, why does Braius get a pass in all this stuff huh? Because he's funny? Seems people ignore the whole morality talk when they're discussing Braius' dedication to Exandrian Satan.

I find it irksome too that even the group seem to criticize Ashton reaching out to Primordials too - as if that wasn't what we wanted them and Fearne to do anyway. They don't dislike the gods simply because they're a 'great entity', it's because they're a great entity that holds power and doesn't use it equally or fairly; they pick and choose who to help, a lot of the time in Ashton's experience for their own self-service, but they won't prioritize mortals over another god no matter who cruel or heinous the god is being, and the following of these gods are so intertwined with politics that most religious motivation also ends up being political. Ashton has no connection to the gods, they reached out and got nothing, an Angel looked at them and made them feel like nothing, but they do have a connection to the Primordials; from the Earth Golem to the Titan Empress they're literally a vessel of, they experienced something significant in their connection to the Earth, so I don't like how that they're almost mocked for having it. In addition, Ashton's behaviour during this commune differs because of that connection, but also because the titans are a natural flow; they don't demand or test or politic or prejudice, and despite being a Great Entity in its own right it never made sure Ashton felt small for their own satisfaction, they asked a question and got an answer, it's the same reason Ashton has disdain for most political leaders but likes and respects Keyleth, Allura, Kima, Pike, and (eventually) Percy despite also being people in power. To call on Orym and the Wildmother as an example again; Orym's an Air Ashari, the Ashari are guardians of the Elemental Planes - made from the Primordials - not tied to a god, but nobody criticizes his connection to the Wildmother despite both not being a follower and his culture being more tethered to Primordials and their descendants. I'm not saying it's all correct for Ashton to want things to go back to how Primordials ruled, but we must remind ourselves also that we only know a story written by victors when it comes to the Schism - a story which could very easily have been altered and edited to make it feel more justified for the Primes and mortals to actively genocide all the Primordials, the native species and creators of this world, and desecrate their remains to make weapons, soul anchors, and cities - the specter didn't say 'fuck em, all mortals should die' after all, if they believe mortals would survive then they must be at the least tolerant of mortal existence. Why is it okay for god followers to say they wanna keep the world with the gods they have a connection to (and I'm not saying they aren't) but Ashton is out of line for wanting to have a world which has something active that they also have a connection to? It seems rather unfair to allow one side to have and the other to have not, picking and choosing because our audience's bias has spent more time with the gods, Ashton wanting something they can connect to doesn't feel all wrong either, the Eidolons still exist with faint worship hiding away so they're not smited by the gods, why can't faith exist so they're not in hiding? I sincerely doubt the Punk Rock that is Ashton is asking for the Primordials to fill the Gods' roles the same way the Gods have been running things either, they want to break the throne remember? There needs to be a balance in ideals and practice of course, and in an ideal world there could even be a more fluid and all-inclusive Exandria where gods and Eidolons live harmoniously with mortals without hierarchy and class systems, I think Ashton could happily live with something like that, they did say the world needs 'a little chaos' to call back to Matt hinting that the current world doesn't have enough.

Which leads us to those wishing violence upon Ashton - and I really don't like that. People who say 'hitting them over the head is the only language they understand' seem to misinterpret Ashton as if everyone around them have been on their hands and knees begging Ashton to reconsider and them ignoring valid points and pulling a Leroy Jenkins. In reality, nobody is actually talking to Ashton about it, a lot of the frustration with Bells Hells right now is that they aren't talking to each other, even about the end goal! Ashton has valid reasons for their thinking, so being violent isn't gonna change their mind; undermining, dehumanizing and trying to effectively bully anyone let alone someone with chronic pain and low self worth will never truly convince them to your way of thinking. All people understand the language of violence, but that language is not used justly, those who truly wish violence upon Ashton don't want it in hopes it'll force Ashton to change their mind, they want it for their own satisfaction of seeing them in pain; so they can further push them away from the rest of the group and go 'that guy's not one of us', make it so the people Ashton calls family after a lifetime of loneliness, confusion and abandonment - the people they promised they won't abandon, and have kept true on that promise even at their lowest - make them feel small and worthless, and force them into box where they can't be themselves, and I hate that people would want to treat them that way. Ashton IS capable of listening; they've stepped back and trusted the other Hells to do their own thing even when it's ridiculous like staging a play where they pretend to be Ludinus to trick Unseelie emissaries into thinking that he attacked them, they listened to the gods even when they didn't have to like they promised they would and despite it being very personal they held themselves back for the benefit of the group, and if the group talked to them calmly where they were all allowed to healthily discuss the pros and cons, the ideals and compromises, and the risk and reward of all plans that have been proposed then they would listen, and they would try - you don't need to slice bread with a broadsword.

Will Ashton 'get what's coming to them'? Maybe, but what is that exactly? We only assume to know the full vision of what Ashton wants to act on. All of Bells Hells are gonna face the consequences of the choice they make on Ruidus - when they finally make one that is - in and out of the world they live in, so won't that apply to everyone? So what for Ashton? do people want Fractures 2.0? Does everything Ashton wants in life have to blow up violently in their face? Family, Closure, their best friend's safety, why does 'what's coming to them' have to be something aggressive and harmful? People change through positive reinforcement and good experiences too! Caduceus Clay would remind you that it's love that makes people. Don't mistake this rant as me wanting Ashton to be exactly as they are now, I too want to see growth from Ashton and we ARE seeing it happen; I see it in small instances where they think twice about rash actions and try not to fly off the handle, when they sit just to listen or understand or to defuse tension, and that when they're going somewhere or doing something they let the group know in advance, those who think Ashton hasn't changed since ep. 1 aren't paying close attention, but that doesn't mean that they don't still have more ground to cover. I believe that Ashton grows the most through kindness; when they're treated like a person and not a blunt instrument or a nuisance, and I hope what's 'coming' for Ashton isn't rejection, bitterness, and isolation, but acceptance, empathy, and for someone - if you know me you'd know who I'd want it to be - to convince them that they are worthy of living, that they're special not because of their powers or blood or because they have died and been put back together again (honestly, it does irk me a little that both Keyleth and Imogen chose that for titles and to brag to the Matron, I know it isn't intended this way but sometimes it feels like saying 'your best defining quality is that you've died a lot') but because while they have every reason to hate everything they still chose to be kind to those who deserve kindness, they have a good heart and they mean well. Are they perfect? No! They're in their 20s very few people irl have their lives together at even twice that age, but I want them to have good things in their life; things that help them feel happy and safe and like they can still feel comfortable in their own skin without having to appear more 'palatable' for people who've already decided that they don't like them. I want them to know that they've always deserved to live and they still deserve it now, I want that not just for Ashton but for all the Hells, and hopefully they'll all live to have it.

And most of all I want the people who hate them to be wrong about Ashton Greymoore, and I want Taliesin to prove them wrong.

#critical role #cr3 #cr3 spoilers #c3 spoilers #c3e110 #cr spoilers #bells hells #ashton greymoore #taliesin jaffe #matthew mercer #yes this is my ass coming to the defense of Ashton again #not saying Matt hates Ashton but they don't half give them a short straw when they're seeking answers #Ashton and I are very different (*) but there are similarities I feel also very strongly about that I'm compelled to put my foot down on #(*I kinda expect they'd steal my wallet but then return it after seeing my donor card and tell me how to not make it so easy to steal)#this is not angrily targeting everyone - it's a culmination of things I've bit my tongue on that I disagree with #there will be people who don't like Ashton for valid and fair reasons a valid and fair amount - this is not against you #but the hate guys - the hate! It ruins my day seeing it let alone thinking about it #and 110 still had a lot of fun and interesting things going on in it that I'd rather focus on #I was not in a great mood already for having missed ANOTHER set of auroras last night #I've stared at this for half an hour in drafts between posting and deleting - if things get more bitter I'll definitely be deleting it #this is not put out to debate this is just pure shouting to the ether #and what I shout to the ether is that 'Ashton Greymoore deserves to feel loved'#it's out but it's not gone from my system it just won't boil over again for a bit - but I still don't like having these vents #I'd much rather rant about fun and good things that make me happy and are a comfort to me

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judesmoonbeauty · 8 months ago

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2024 Villains Festival Prologue(s) ♛

This includes the exclusive Villains Festival Team's Prologue that was released on X. Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do NOT post my translations elsewhere. Also, feel free to ignore my random commentary.

Translation notes are marked with *** Alternate translation is marked with///

Victor: Ta-da! Her Majesty the Queen has announced an extra bonus payment!

Liam: What, we've never gotten a bonus before? (Damn, that's sad.)

Jude: It's a drop in the bucket anyway, right?

Victor: The amount is on the letter from her Majesty the Queen.

Victor: It seems we're all paid the same amount of money, so let's split this money with everyone...how's that?

Kate: Is something wrong?

Victor: Oh my god! This is a serious situation....The amount is only divisible by 9!

Ellis: Isn't it for 10 people because Kate is here too?

Victor: She is separate from you all and is already paid.

Kate: Yes! I've been taken well care of.

Victor: So, if we divide by 9, the remainder is....

Alfons: It's a pain in the ass to worry about the leftovers, isn't it?

Alfons: Instead of being so tightfisted, why don't we just have a bonus battle?

Elbert: A bonus battle?

Alfons: The winner should take all the bonuses.

Alfons: It saves you the trouble of dividing by 9, and above all, it's fun right?

Harrison: Winner...What game are we going to play? If it's poker, I don't think I'll lose.

Roger: How about a beer drinking contest? You get to drink and compete, it's a win-win.

Liam: They're both steering the game to their own advantage....it has to be fair, right?

Victor: Then, how about we let our Fairy Tale Writer, decide?

Victor: Let's make the supreme evil who steals her heart the winner and take all the bonuses! That's it!

Kate: What? I can't be responsible for that!

Victor: Don't worry! Her Majesty will make the final decision based on Kate's evaluation. You'll be fine!

Victor: I won't hold you solely responsible. So.....

Kate: …...

Victor: Hey!

Kate: Okay, I understand.

Victor: Thank you, Kate!

(When you look at me with such joyful eyes like sparkling jewels....I won't be able to refuse.)

Victor: It's late today, so the review will start tomorrow. And.....this is for you.

Victor handed me a heart motif necklace.

Victor: Think of this as your very heart and give it to the bad guy who steals your very heart.

Kate: Yes.

Victor: I'm excited! Now, my dear cursed ones, the battle for the bonus is about to begin!

Villains Festival 2024 Teams Prologue:

The condition for taking the entire bonus from her Majesty is to steal XXX's heart.

The villains begin to form dangerous joint fronts -

Alfons, Roger and Jude from Team Villain try to kidnap you?

Jude: What do you guys have?

Roger: A sack.

Alfons: Does it look like something other than a rope?

Jude: So, you'll bag her, tie her up and kidnap her....

Alfons & Roger: Please don't ask if you already know.

Harrison, Liam and Ellis is Team Love Thief.

They rush to protect you from Team Villain?!

Harrison: I'm here to protect you – No lie.

Liam: I don't want money. All I want is love from you.

Ellis: I'm happy as long as you're happy.

William, Elbert and Victor is Team Nobleman.*** (I decided to change this to Team Nobleman from Team Senior Aristocrat.)

They had decided to fight gracefully with a noblesse oblige heart, but......?!

Elbert: If anything happens to her.....I can't allow that to happen.

William: Hmm....I guess I blew my leeway earlier.

Victor: Good day, my dear.

Victor: Shall I punish you....?

When the three stories connect,

The fierce, serious and silly (?) will be revealed......

[Master List]

#Ikemen villains #ikevil #ikevil translations #cybird translations #ikevil spoilers #ikevil william #ikevil roger #ikevil victor #ikevil ellis #ikevil jude #ikevil liam #ikevil alfons #ikevil harrison #ikevil elbert

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thechekhov · 1 year ago

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Hello! Just wanted to say I love all your content but I wanted to ask if you had any advice/tips for running curse of strahd? I'm working on getting ready to run it with some friends/my partner and while I've run a fair amount of homebrew stuff this is my real first attempt at a legit module so I was curious if you could share anything since I believe you also are running/had run that module as well?

Thanks for asking! This is a very fun question!

I have indeed run Curse of Strahd. It was my first foray into long-term DMing and my team and I finished that campaign a little under a year ago. It was awesome, and I'm always excited to talk about it. Curse of Strahd had be a great game if everyone is on the same page!

First of all, I'm gonna say

Having Experience with Homebrew will be a huge boon

When I ran CoS, I followed the actual module about... 60% of the time. It was good... as a baseline/blueprint. But the reality is that I changed up a lot of the details. Either because I didn't like the vibes of the story, or because the plot points were antithetical to my team's goals. I changed up an entire floor of Ravenloft. I threw away a whole storyline for a major NPC because I felt it was too boring.

I think most people who run Curse of Strahd do this, actually. I've heard countless tales of how others Homebrewed their own meat onto the skeleton, and still came out of the campaign with an awesome, Strahd flavored experience. So don't worry about that part.

Here's my advice:

1. Everyone should vibe with what Strahd IS as a game.

Strahd can be a lot of things - you can Homebrew your own motivations into him, or make him a her, or change the history of his castle if need be. But if there's one thing Curse of Strahd is... it is DARK.

The Venn Diagram of Parties Who Understand That Suffering Can Be Fun To Roleplay and Parties Who Had A Good Time Doing CoS is probably a circle. You cannot do this adventure with a group of people who just want to hit monsters a whole bunch. It's an inherently 'oh my god this SUCKS' adventure. That's the main theme. Your players need to be able to enjoy that sort of game, otherwise they will just be miserable.

One of my players, upon arriving in Barovia, immediately said 'I hate it here' and then continued to say it for the rest of the campaign. That is kind of the catchphrase of CoS. Your players need to be comfortable with that sort of bleak horror and overall misery. It makes the end and the potential to finally end Strahd worth it.

That being said, Strahd can also just be... a lot. It has death and torture and psychological horror in there. KIDS DIE. Please discuss this stuff with your table, and remove elements if they guarantee a bad experience for everyone!

(Yes, you can trim down some of the viscera if you need to, that's fine. But keep in mind it will still be tragic. It SHOULD still be tragic. I set some boundaries for myself, but I also killed a whole town in an avalanche. It happened to be the only town my players had grown to like. It was a dick move. It was exactly what you would expect to happen.)

2. Read ahead - A LOT AHEAD.

For a self-contained world, Barovia isn't actually that big. It's a very small map, compared to some that span continents. That means you have the ability to flesh it out, as it were.

To add to that... some areas are... severely underdeveloped plot-wise. Sometimes there are places your players will go where it FEELS like it should link up to another point in the game but it just... doesn't. There is room to expand there. Use your Homebrew skills to connect the dots that the module doesn't!

I greatly recommend taking the time to either read through the whole adventure OR listen through some video-essays. There IS some cool stuff that comes in in the later game that you can grab and put down breadcrumbs for from day one. Or add to your own story twists.

My recommended resource for this is the Curse of Strahd DM's Guide video series.

...and to that end...

3. Start living in Ravenloft Castle WAY before your players get there.

Listen..........listen. look.

Look at this, and suffer as all GMs have suffered.

Castle Ravenloft is unarguably the biggest, stupidest, most architecturally ludicrous hurdle when it comes to GMing CoS. And I am here to tell you - IT IS DOABLE.

You can understand the castle, you can grow comfortable with it. But you need to start early. Hell, I think I began to set up Ravenloft maps before my players even knew it existed. Then I stopped, because I was scared.. but then I went back, and I.... roleplayed SOLO on my off-days! I set up little scenes between Strahd and others and imagined him setting traps, and doing other things. It helped me understand which staircase led to where, and what floors were accessible from which angles.

A part of me actually thinks that there should be a mini GMs-only class where a more experienced Strahd GM takes some time with other GMs to guide them through a map of the castle. A CoS Learning Oneshot, if you will.

There's also a LOT of talented mapmakers that create beautiful, digital CoS maps! Here's one:

Even if you are playing analogue, at a physical table, I greatly encourage you to check it out for reference. The official CoS maps are bleak and a little bit more... rustic? Than they are gothic.

Anyway, in order to avoid talking your ear off, I will end it here.

My last bit of advice is... to have fun!

Yes I know I just said that Strahd is an inherently bad-vibes game. But it's actually GOOD to let your players goof off now and then. Don't be afraid to let them do shenanigans. It builds character, and allows them to regain the energy they need to role-play properly heavy elements later.

My group did a whole bunch of funny stuff. They felt so bad about losing Ireena that when they saw Ismark, instead of explaining themselves to him they cast Darkness and tried to scramble away. There was a running joke that the cleric was too good to know about sex, so they used the euphemism 'play cards' around her, much to everyone's amusement. They got kicked by a walking house once and never forgot nor forgave. And finally, they defeated some Flame Skulls by putting them into a bag of holding.

Anyway, the point is... have fun! I wish you and your party the best of luck. :)

#chekhov answers #curse of strahd #cos #ttrpg #dnd #5e #d&d #cos 5e

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brainrot-goes-brrrrrr · 6 months ago

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Savannah Squad Presentation Night Headcanons/Drabble [2/3]

it has been forever :'D (everyone say thank you to @moonbiine)

ANYWAYS, here's part 2 :}

Part 1: Taylor & Logan Part 2: Ben & Tyler Part 3: Aiden & Ashlyn [WIP]

Logan's POV

Two hours and twenty-eight minutes. It has been two hours and twenty-eight minutes and we've been stuck at 76% complete for forty minutes. Whoever made Windows deserves to burn and I stand by that, cause what do you mean that they can push an update and force restart my laptop.

"Logan when was the last time you updated this?" "Logan, why are there fifteen updates that need to be downloaded?" "Bro, when was the last time you actually shut down your laptop?" ... "I've been busy, okay--"

So it might be my fault. Partially. I will admit that much, but the laptop's never given me a problem before and it was running fine. It's just old, and has a few odd... kinks? I mean, the left half of the mousepad is jammed to the point where it can't click, and, sure, the screen does go black every now and again, but just hit it a few times it works! It's character, charm even (and I can't be bothered to fix it...)!

It was, honest to God, easier for Aiden to run back to his place and grab his laptop.

"So we agree that Logan is off electronic duty right?" Taylor had asked as Ben was setting up the other computer to the television screen with Aiden helping. It was a unanimous decision. Ben and Aiden are the new tech guys.

"Yeah, that's probably for the better," I had conceded.

Ben Clarke

Ben goes next because he saved the groups sanity by suggesting that Aiden just gets his laptop. Everyone, thank Ben for the night not failing.

To address the obvious, Ben has a text to speech app on his phone, which is connected to a speaker, that he uses to present. I will say that there is a sort of humor in this for two reasons. One, the voice can either be monotoned like a typical text-to-speech program with funny pronunciation errors, or two, it will sound like one of those videos on tiktok where an AI is reading a tumblr post about SuperBats or something and gets progressively more expressive as time goes on. Personally, I want to hear exasperated robot Ben voice explaining to Aiden why "Life is a Highway" on repeat can and will be considered a torture method.

Ben's music taste is GODLY. And he's more of a eclectic listener too so he has experience with a good amount of genres. This man does not bash other genres of music that he doesn't care for, he thinks its rude to the person he's talking to and to the artist.

Aiden is the exception to this rule^^

DESPISES having to subscribe to music platforms. What do you mean that you can't listen to a song on repeat without paying, what do you mean that you will interrupt his carefully crafted playlist with a recommended song that does not fit the vibe. This end up derailing his presentation couple times.

He has a set criteria that he judges on: length, vibes, transitions, and replayability. Good playlists should at minimum be an hour, have similar vibes/sound while still being unique, the transitions between songs shouldn't be jarring, and the playlist shouldn't be painful to listen to after a month.

Taylor and Ashlyn helped him judge everyone's playlists by acting as secondary perspectives. Taylor is more open to everyone's music tastes while Ashlyn scrutinizes them more. They pretty much just took a playlist that everyone listens to regularly, one that they made but listen to it every so often, and their liked songs.

I would also like everyone to remember that the series is set in 2016... they would have songs mostly from the 2000s-2010s with the exceptions of some 90s and 80s songs. I'm not saying that's a bad thing, I'm just saying that I looked up 2010s hit songs and I'm filled with nostalgia.

Overall, Ben's criticisms and recommendations are genuinely thoughtful. Especially the recommendations. For each person, after critiquing their playlists, Ben made a slide of genres and artists that each person should check out to expand their tastes.

(I'll probably make a bit about what songs were on their playlist, idk tho)

Group Reaction (how they ranked in comparison to each other)

Personally, Tyler and Logan getting the best ratings because their playlists are very consistent in their vibes and are replayable. I also think that Ben's music taste fits the most with these two for some reason, so they got the most song recs out of everyone.

Ashlyn is third in the ranking. She has one or two that she listens to occasionally, and they're pretty short. They are absolute polar opposites though. One of the playlists is rock, since she canonically likes Paramore (if you don't, get well soon), and the other is classical music for her ballet performances.

Taylor is next. Her playlist isn't bad, its just... a bit everywhere. Like it starts pretty good, but you can tell that somewhere along the lines of creating this playlist she just added songs that she remembered that she likes. It mostly fits the same genre. Ben makes her a more organized playlist after the presentation.

Aiden is dead last. It's not because his music taste is shit. Aiden actually has a pretty good music taste. No. Its because he only listens to his liked songs on repeat like a monster. It is musical whiplash. You go from a movie theme song, to crying, to listening to white girl club music, to rock, to crying again, and then for some reason the Home Depot jingle???? The only playlists that he makes are for jokes really. Do you know the John Mulaney bit where he plays "What's New Pussycat?" 27 times. Yeah, that's Aiden.

Tyler Hernandez

Tyler's next, and, I'm letting you know now that he sprayed the fuck out of Aiden for interrupting. Yeah, Ash pulled them a part.

Motherfucker is so pleased with himself, like its honestly so funny. Aiden had him by the collar and Tyler was just fucking smiling. Taylor does throw her slipper at him for being rude, but he could honestly care less.

The slideshow itself is the most soulless thing ever made, man used the Blank Google Slides template and called it a day. Like one stock image on each slide, and its so pixelated. He probably did it like an hour ago. That's why his presentation is funny because he's just jabbing at Aiden over and over with a basic slideshow that you'd see someone pull out in a Spanish 1-2 class.

You know what? He probably had another presentation about what piercing he think would suit the group best, and just did this one out of spite cause Aiden was being loud. I take back my previous statement about him doing it an hour before getting to Logan's place, he did this on his PHONE WHEN THE LAPTOP WAS UPDATING!!!! Like Logan was taking a walk, Ben was trying to fix the computer, the girls went to make sandwiches, Aiden was running errands, and Tyler made this in an hour.

His presentation is based off a tier system where it gets more effective with each method. Methods 1-3 are pretty basic where its just stuff like duct taping his mouth shut, 4 and onwards just gets funny

I'll be completely honest, each way he put is wild, and it gets progressively more deranged as the presentation goes on. These one's my favorite

"Number 9: Dying You know, I thought this would be the best way, but the bastard got crushed by a ceiling and walked it off. I want you to try and convince me that Aiden wouldn't crawl out of hell just to ruin my day. " "Number 10: Put him in a room alone with Ashlyn's mom and dad *insert a picture of Aiden sitting not so comfortably in between Ashlyn's parents* I don't even think I need to say anything else, I mean, I will, but like... look at him"

This is honestly the shortest presentation of the night but so far it's the most chaotic (he will quickly lose this title).

Tyler went through two spray bottles, mainly for Aiden, but he did spray Taylor once or twice. She threw a shoe at him. It's only fair.

Groups Reaction

Aiden is standing to the side with a towel around himself because Logan said his grandparents would kill them for ruining their couch. He's not exactly pissed but he is kind of sulking. Honestly this just makes his presentation so much better for him.

You know how Tyler asked for suggestions in the beginning, Ben and Ashlyn give him genuine ideas. Mainly Ben, just out of good humor you know. And Tyler's taking notes.

Taylor is giggling, but she does feel a bit bad for Aiden. At some point she gives him a consolation sandwich to raise his spirits.

Logan, however, doesn't and he's just quietly enjoying the scene that's unfolding around him.

The end of these two presentations are by far more chaotic than the first two, and it feels like its only going to get worse from here(/pos). Because right now Aiden is fighting with Tyler, getting him soaked too, Taylor is filming them while Logan provides commentary, and Ashlyn is standing with Ben setting up the next powerpoint.

While it was initially decided that Aiden would go last, Ashlyn suggested that she and him switch. Mainly so that he can drip dry while presenting, and sit down when he's done.

Aiden is following a presentation that was just jabbing at him, how do you think his is going to end up now?

#school bus graveyard #school bus graveyard webtoon #sbg #sbg (webtoon)#ben clarke #tyler hernandez #savannah squad #sbg powerpoint night #I might add more to tyler's later #not edited rn #we die like men

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saratinz · 2 years ago

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Erase Him From Your Brain

pairing ➩ Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

warnings ➩ angst, drinking, smut, pure filth, spanking, daddy kink, dom/sub dynamics, degradation, praise, pet names (good girl, slut)

synopsis ➩ sequel to 'Fuck Away the Pain'

word count ➩ 1.4k

a/n ➩ to celebrate reaching 69 followers, I give you part 2. comment to be added to taglist.

Your date with bucky is tonight, and you could not be more nervous. It’s weird, the fact that you’re about to have a romantic evening with the guy who you only had hatred towards two weeks ago. There’s a thin line between love and hate, and you two had crossed it. You have no idea what’s going to happen at this dinner. He picked a fancy restaurant, but no amount of money spent can make up for a lack of connection. And that’s your worst fear, realizing that even though your sexual chemistry is off the charts, your ideas of romance might clash.

You went through hundreds of different outcomes in your head, but never did you expect this one to even be possible. “Ma’am, if he’s not gonna show up, I need you to give up the table.”

“Thank you for being so patient, he’s not coming. Here, let me give you, $20, for your time.”

“I’m so sorry about your boyfriend.”

“Appreciate it. Have a good evening.”

When you get back to the compound, you can’t stop the tears that flood your eyes. How could he do this to you? How could you fall for it, fall for him? Whatever shred of respect you had for him a month ago is gone. James Barnes is a no-good, very bad, wretched man, and no amount of charm will ever get him out of this hole he dug. You are done. Done with lies, done with assholes, and done with love. What even is love anyway? Seems like all it does is cause pain. Your thoughts race as you lie in your bed, wondering what the fuck you did wrong. You’ve felt this pain before, you know you can beat it, but everything feels so awful. You want this hurt to be gone. Why won’t it just go away? Why won’t he just go away? That’s your last thought before you drift off into a not-so-peaceful slumber.

You wake up to violent knocking, with your eyes puffy and pillow stained with makeup. “Y/n, it’s Bucky.” Fuck this, you roll over, figuring he’ll eventually go away. “I know you’re in there, F.R.I.D.A.Y confirmed for me.

“Fuck off James.”

“C’mon baby, just let me apologize.”

“Get away or I swear to god, I’ll make your life a living hell.”

“Just, I rescheduled our dinner for tonight, if you don’t come, I understand, but I’m giving you the option.”

“Hope you’re more embarrassed than you’ve ever been in your life.”

“I love you. ”

“Fuck you.”

“Okay, I’m leaving.” You scream into your pillow. The thought of going to dinner with Bucky makes you sick. It still crosses your mind though. No, you refuse to think about what could happen. Like how he could apologize, could be easy to talk to, could be your soulmate. Shut up brain. You do not want the guy who betrayed you, the guy who teased you to no end. You hope he’s in pain, and maybe that’s wrong, but it’s simply how you feel.

You’re not usually a day-drinker, but this situation calls for it. You cradle your favorite drink, sipping it way faster than you should. You see a familiar face passing. “Hey Sam.”

“Hey Y/n. I need to talk to you.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Bucky.”

“God, please don’t tell me he put you up to this.”

“He’s so sorry. He had a few drinks before dinner, he was so nervous, he wanted things to be perfect. He passed out from not sleeping or eating.”

“Here’s the thing, I don’t care what happened. I was scared too, but I showed up anyway.”

“He wanted me to give you this.”

“Take it back to him, I don’t want it.”

“He said even if you didn’t open it, I have to force you to take the box.”

“Sam you’re really getting on my nerves.”

“Y/n, you want my honest opinion?”

“Go ahead.”

“He’s an asshole, you deserve better.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because even though he sucks sometimes, he’s never cared about anyone half as much as he cares about you. He’s always had your back.”

“That’s what you do when your an Avenger.”

“No, I mean he literally begs people to check up on you, to look after you, hell, he convinced Steve to give you a chance.”

“I didn’t ask for him to do any of those things, and look how well my thing with Steve ended.”

“He cares more about you than he does his best friend, that’s what came between them. You’re special, he didn’t intentionally fuck this up, that’s just what you get when you fall in love with him. So please, for the love of god, take him back, so that I never have to do this again. I will pay you to go on this date. Name your price.”

“One million.”

“I was thinking more like $50.”

“I’m not going to dinner.”

“Just, don’t drink too much, okay?”

“I know. Goodbye Sam.”

“Bye.” Once he leaves, you get right back to self-medicating. The drinks start to taste less and less like alcohol. You know your limits, and you use that knowledge to drink as much as you can without blacking out. When you finally cut yourself off, you realize it’s time for dinner. But there’s no way you’re going. Even drunk you knows that’s a bad idea.

Bucky clouds your mind, like the virus he is. How do you even explain your feelings toward him? He’s just, he won’t get out of your head. You kinda wanna go to dinner. Wait, what? No you don’t, let him be so embarrassed like you were. But he’s so hot, and good at sex. No, shut up brain. And you love him. Well, that you can’t deny. No matter what you tell yourself, that will always be true. Fuck it, fuck reasoning, you are going to stop him from going. You don’t want him in pain like you are.

You practically sprint to his room, trying to catch him before he leaves. You run into him in the hallway with his room. “James, don’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s humiliating.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, I do. I still love you, I don’t want you to go through with this.”

“There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Not even if I let you fuck me?” You put on your best pouty face.

“What?”

“Not even if I suck your dick?”

“Y/n, stop it.”

“Not even if I call you daddy?”

“How, how did you know I like that?”

“I didn’t, but I do now.”

“Shut up.”

“Guess you’re just gonna have to punish me, daddy.” All of a sudden, you’re pushed against the wall, caged in, and getting really turned on.

“You wanna be a brat? I’ll treat you like one.”

“Do your worst.” His lips are on yours in an instant, and it’s a filthy kiss, just tongue and teeth. You yelp as Bucky pulls away and throws you over his shoulder. Once you get inside his room, he walks to the bed and tosses you onto it.

“Take your clothes off, underwear too.” You do as he said, feeling self-conscience under his dark gaze. “Good girl, now I’m gonna sit down, and you’re gonna lay across my legs.” Crawling onto his lap, you cry out as he smacks his hand across your ass.

“What the fuck?” Another hit.

“You begged me to do this with your bad behavior. I can’t just let you get away with whatever. I’m gonna make you my obedient little slut, it’s time you learn a lesson or two. But if you feel uncomfortable, just say the word ‘red’ and I will stop.” Once again, you’re struck. “After every spank, I’m gonna need you to say ‘thank you, daddy’. You got that?”

“James, that’s humiliating.” He puts all of his strength into the next blow.

“That’s not my name princess, now what do you say?”

“Thank you, daddy.” You reluctantly mumble.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Thank you, daddy.” You scream.

“Good fucking girl. Now we’re gonna do that 20 more times.”

When your punishment is finally over, your eyes are puffy and your face is soaked. “It’s over honey, you did so good.” He helps you straddle him, kissing your tears away. You lay your head on his shoulder, wishing this feeling will last forever. He lies down, maneuvering your limp body so that you can use his still clothed chest as a pillow. You’re super drowsy, from the alcohol and spanking, and before long, you fall into a deep slumber.

Previous part / Masterlist / Next part

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #song fic #angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #smut

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nyxthejinx · 2 years ago

Note

Heya!

I just saw your open for request post and want to commission an Cyno x gn!reader, please? :) a fluffy and spicy drabble would be lovely. Maybe smth like.. the reader is good friends with Cyno and Tighnari but the reader went on a journey thru teyvat and met the Aether (traveler) on their way and since then they traveled together and been thru much so they have a connection ofc and then when the reader and Aether visit sumeru and they meet Cyno - he will get all jealous? Cause he sees how close they are and he fears that he missed his chance with the reader? But obvsly its not like that and yeah. A lil bit of making out at the end, please? cause Cyno needs to let out some steam after his jealously :^)

Thank you for doing requests btw!

FIRST. It took ages but I was able to sell my soul in exchange for inspiration only recently, I'm so sorry. SECOND thank YOU for asking, I wasn't sure about this until the 3am among us potion made it work. THIRD beautiful pfp, akaza bb fr i love him a normal amount I promise. FOURTH it's 5 am, literally I'm not kidding, I tried to proofread and all that but I don't even know what's my name anymore so I'm sorry for typos and shit. FIFTH I hope It makes sense, enjoy 💀

𝐓𝐖: Fluff and obviously spice (making out, vague allusions to the dirty deeds ;) ), use of petnames (dear, love), lemme know if I missed something.

𝐅𝐭.: Cyno, Aether (but he's your homie) - GN!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k

𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨: Rendezvous - Little Mix (god this song is such a banger)

Cyno fears nothing.

"Cyno, this is Aether."

Cyno fears one thing.

He'd felt so happy after reading your last letter. You said you'd be back in a few days with a special surprise, but honest to Archons the fact you'd be coming back to him - for him, he’d wanted to say, but not dared to- was enough of a present.

He surely wasn't expecting that this "surprise" would be none other than the Traveler who's saved Sumeru, though. A charming blondie who drifts a bit too close to you, in Cyno's opinion.

"We met in Liyue, he's amazing." You smile, squeezing the blond's shoulder. "He's a well known traveler across Teyvat, even in regions he has yet to visit!"

"I just help those who need it, not that much of a big deal."

Aether blushes and rubs his neck. Aether blushes. And you're touching him in a way that only close friends do.

It's fine, Cyno wants to think. You're allowed to do whatever you want in your life, he sure as hell won't stand in your way. He already stepped aside back in the days, as you excitedly told him how one of his worst fears came true you were leaving for adventure.

Everything to make you happy.

But his mixed feelings would always get in the way and unleash endless internal conflicts. It wasn't simply about not having you around, it was some kind of longing sitting inside his chest and screaming at you not to go.

It was the distance that made him realise: he was, and still is, far too in love for his own good.

And Aether could get in the way of that.

"We meet again, Traveller." The General nods, pushing down such shameful thoughts. "I'm glad to see you are both fairing well."

"It's all thanks to [Name], actually." Aether nudges you in the ribs. "They're really helpful, no matter the task."

You smirk. "Oh, what an honour. The traveller complementing me, a common, mortal nobody."

"Hey, I'm not that annoying!"

"Maybe. But you sure snore at night. That is annoying."

"Wh-! I don't. I know for a fact-"

No, you don't sound like close friends. You sound like a married couple. What just happened in this handful of months? Did Cyno hesitate too long and lost his chance? Now that he had decided to expose his deepest feelings?

"You guys! Paimon is starving here."

Paimon's shrill voice cuts short the bicker, as the Matra's jaw clenches. Good time, credits to Paimon, but seeing the two of you stroll towards the tavern didn't ease the knot in his chest the slightest.

Your laughter wasn't addressed to him nor to his uncanny jokes. He wasn't the one making you smile.

He was the moon and he'd just been eclipsed by the Traveller's brightest light.

Dinner was... Gut wrenching, to say the least.

You'd known Cyno long enough to tell apart his feelings even as he wears that stoic facade of his. While Paimon and the Traveller didn't have a single clue about the situation, you could feel his dry gaze burning holes on both of your figures, as if the sun had ascended back to the skies and everything around had turned desert.

He was feeling something you'd never quite seen within him.

It took you a bit too long to realise that the fair, lawful General Mahamatra was jealous, of all things.

He was so subtle with it, carefully hid his resentment in his voice and choice of words, in his gestures and mannerisms. But worst of all he didn't propose a single joke during the meal, not even when you laid the chance on a silver platter for him.

That had your mind reeling for the rest of your time together, and even afterwards, as you waved goodnight to Aether and Paimon. As you walked these streets you still know by heart with your dearest friend by your side.

As you choked on the thick air surrounding the two of you.

Maybe you should've left Aether out of it, for the first day, at least. Cyno hadn't seen you in so long, perhaps he didn't like the way Aether inadvertently hogged your attention the entire time when all he wanted was to hear about your adventures.

Yeah, you'd been an idiot for that one.

But, you still had an ace up your sleeve. Quite literally. One that would grant you his forgiveness and hopefully help you say the words to him.

Because of course, it took you less than a week far from him to realise you were smitten for this dad-jokes-spitting being.

You patted your side as you approached Razan Garden in all its glory, and sighed at the feeling of the rectangular box still inside. You could do it, you had to! It took you months of preparation, you wouldn't let it go to waste.

"[Name]." Cyno's voice was soft, as if to match the atmosphere lingering in the marble gazebo. He'd stopped a couple steps ahead of you, but didn't turn to meet your eyes. "My congratulations and best wishes."

You alt abruptly at that. Where the hell is it coming from?

"Uh, thank you?" You quirk a brow. "Did I do something special without knowing?"

He chuckles under his breath. Yes, you are special and he's grateful a being so perfect can exist in this world and is part of his life. But he would never tell you that.

He turns instead. His eyes rich with emotion, gentler. "I'm beyond glad that you found the right person out there, [Name]."

Oh. Oh.

"I only ever hoped for your happiness and well-being, during this period of time."

"Cyno, wait a sec-"

He takes a step forward. "If I had to voice my honest thoughts... I must admit I couldn't find peace of mind knowing you would've been out there alone."

"Cyno-"

"But I see you're perfectly capable of handling your own," the man sighs, shakes his head. A small smile curves his lips. "Just like you've always done."

"Oi-"

And then he's placing loose hands on your shoulders, as if he's in some kind of automatic mode and has to finish the speech at all costs.

For a moment you think he's gone absolutely senile. "Still, I'm relieved you have someone who can watch your back, now. He's a kind-hearted person, level headed, the best you could wish for-"

"Archons' fucking sake, Cyno! Will you hear me out a damn second?"

Cyno almost jumps back, taken out of his weird reverie, but you're quick to trap his face between your hands. You're close, closer than you'd wanted to, unfocused in your frustrated fervor. So much his breath warms the apple of your cheek, as it wasn't burning already.

You take a breath and force more words out before you can cower away from it. "I get where you're coming from, I neglected you today and acted like a shitty friend. And I'm sorry for that."

You lower your gaze to the ground. Now or never. "But it's you, okay? It's always been you! I could travel across all Teyvat and even Celestia, but it's you and just you. So drop that thing you're on about please."

That was disgustingly corny. But hopefully did the trick, you guess.

A beat passes. Then two. You don't see his face, you don't have the courage to take a look at the mess you've made. Him being jealous didn't mean he liked you, not necessarily. Maybe you should've given him the TCG deck and call it a night.

Another beat goes by.

"So... You and Aether are not...?"

He's gonna be the death of you.

You groan, a guttural sound that shouts exasperation from the deepest parts of your chest. All rationality goes to hell as you drag him closer and slam your lips together.

You're kissing him. Archons you're kissing him-

There's no time for Cyno to react. You're pulling away in a frenzy, hoping the ground will open for the Abyss to swallow you right now. You kissed one of your friends only to prove that you're single, and in fact attracted to them. Could it be worse than that? More humiliating and disrespectful to him?

"I'm so sorry!" You wave your hands around. "I shouldn't have without your permission! Are you okay?"

You search his expression for any sign of discomfort; he looks absolutely flabbergasted, but somehow weirdly composed like a bronze statue. His lips -god you'd just kissed them- are parted in the slightest, his eyes wide and yet still. The calm before the storm.

He's showing yet another sentiment you've never really seen him wear.

"Again." Cyno says.

You blink. "Uh?"

You feel his hand slither behind you and circle your waist, as he pushes your body closer. His skin is running hot like the desert's sands and you curse at his choice, or better lack of clothes.

His silver hair falls like a curtain, his eyes sharp. Dangerous, even, if you're not careful enough.

"Please, do it again. I think I've just seen the gates of Celestia." He mutters close to your lips.

That sounds more like him. You can't help but snort at his choice of words, shuddering all the same. The implications of said words dig a flaming hole in your chest.

"How can you be so smart, but dum dum at the same time?" You whisper, one hand traveling to the back of his neck, the other busying itself with stray locks of hair.

And you dip in for another kiss. One you sigh into, one that can be called kiss, actually. It's slower, but full all the same, scorching hot, pushed by feelings that were repressed for too long.

Cyno locks his free hand at your nape, never possessive, although firm. Small sounds bubble in the back of his throat when you bite at his lower lip, then backs just enough to mutter a couple words.

"Can you really blame me? It feels like a dream coming true." He pecks your lips, then presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes. "I was scared you'd chosen him."

"So, all those pretty words from before?" You exhale a breathy laugh, cradling his jaw.

"I'd give away everything I have and am if it meant you'd be happy. I could only wish you the best and support you." Cyno smiles, pouting after the next words leave his mouth. "But it doesn't mean I would be fully content with the outcome."

Your brain has turned to mush. This man is too dangerous for this world, a hazard for you and your poor little heart that feels like exploding. It's a threat to your common sense and rationality. But most of all, it's damaging your brakes.

What he's telling you should not be legal.

"Archons, come here." And you kiss, and kiss, kiss again and again. You map each other's bodies with your hands as if it was the last time you'd be seeing each other. You press your mouths, clatter your teeth, intertwine your tongues.

You're straight up devouring in the dead silence of the night, in a public space. But as indecent the sounds you're both making are, it feels as if the world around blurred and blended into nothingness.

You've found yourself with your back to a wall, somehow, a couple buttons loose, skin hit by the cold air of the night. You -surely more clothed than Cyno- are an absolute mess, whereas his appearance doesn't falter much even at your hands' mercy.

It's unfair, he's unfair. He has no right to be this damn perfect even in the face of chaos.

"Not here, Cy." You manage to utter. "Let's go home."

His hand stops halfway up your shirt and he detaches from your neck with a small grunt, red splotches forming already thanks to his work. He doesn't sound pleased with your choice, but wordlessly complies, knocking you off your feet and picking you up so easily it's unfair.

And embarrassing.

You deadpan. "Seriously?"

He finds your eyes, suddenly composed as if nothing happened. "You seemed quite unstable on your legs, dear."

You're audibly gasping at that, whacking his chest and glaring daggers. "You!"

"Let's continue it home, now."

Cyno is really going to be the death of you, in many ways you'd never even considered.

It's almost dawn when you finally let yourselves snuggle up to each other in the peace of your home. More like his home, since yours needs more than a bit of cleaning after months of disuse, but he's made it clear already: everything that's his is also yours.

Cyno traces patterns on the bare skin of your arm, as you card through the knots on the back of his head, formed after... Recent activity. He seems too lost in your touch to even be awake, when his fingers stop.

"What was the surprise, in the end? Was it the confession?"

Your hands still, your face tightening at the question. When did you even... Oh, right.

"Would you be satisfied if I said yes?"

He pinches you.

"Owie!"

"You should know that what has been of this night matters more than anything, to me. Of course I would be satisfied." Cyno raises a thin brow, as his hand starts to descend agonizingly slow, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. "Was I not clear enough about my feelings? Perhaps you need a reminder-"

"Whoa, hold your horses, General." You chuckle, planting a kiss on his forehead before leaning over to your bedside table, where your bag had been thrown previously. "There was no way I'd come back empty handed after all these months, yanno?"

You pull out the wrapped box, place it in his hands. Cyno stares at it quizzically, but opens the packaging with care after you nudge him in the side.

Oh, his expression is so, so priceless. Cute, too cute, so cute you could die right now on the spot for excess of sugar in your blood. He looks like a kid who's just received the toy he oh so wanted and ranted about.

"It's not just any deck," You explain. "It's a deck made of cards I've gathered around from different regions. Some were more challenging to get, but I've been playing with you for a long time, haven't I? Of course I'd win."

Meanwhile Cyno takes the liberty to browse its contents, and just like you said, they're not from Sumeru. He's barely ever seen them, some are literally unknown, and he's ecstatic at the sight. How long did it take? How much effort?

"This is…" there's no right term to describe it. "Wonderful. You are wonderful, [Name]."

He goes for a hug and you feel like your bodies fit perfectly in each other's arms, as if it was meant to be. Right now, all that matters is this. And it will always be for all you care.

You smile into his shoulder, smooch the base of his neck. "Is it too early to say 'I love you?'."

"I would actually say we're late, Love."

"I love you, then, you Dum-Dum."

"I love you."

"..."

"You are like my asthma. You just take my breath away."

You make sure Cyno slams his head as you throw him off the bed.

#Genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #Cyno x reader #cyno #genshin Cyno #genshin impact #gn reader #Genshin drabble #genshin fluff #Genshin Impact smut #cyno smut #Genshin smut #| Genshin Impact 🌓 |#| Nyx Writes 🌑 |

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writinandcrying · 11 months ago

Text

TMNT ONE SHOT - Holiday Season - A Special gift

Christmas was not your favorite holiday, at least you had a mutant turtle to help out in this trying times (GN READER, Tw: dysfunctional family, arguments and bickering related to food, crying mentioned)

Fluff - makeout / first kiss with *insert turtle you like* after a shitty xmas (English isn’t my first language and I didn’t proof read this 😗✌️, pls don’t hesitante to correct me if you see something off putting, I hope you guys still like it!)

You climb up the last steps of the fire scape connecting the roof top of your building, dragging your feet as you groan one last time, it’s impressive you can hear your relatives arguing several stores bellow, you have lost count how many times people can pick on each other on their free will. You drag your hands along your face and sigh, you want nothing more but to distance yourself from that.

You didn’t get to feel much of The “Christmas spirit” everyone seem to love and cherish since you left your childhood years, and it seems that every year you learn to dislike December a little bit more. As much as The Grinch was deeply relatable for you lately, you didn’t want it to be, having a dysfunctional family in such a tender Holiday was kinda like receiving punch in the gut every day until 25th of December died out. After the first 10, the warm smiles and happy wishes over a great season seem to constantly mock your misery, leaving you bitter and resentful.

Leaning over the edge of your building, you check the many light up windows and different narratives playing along on your neighborhood, a family all gathered up taking a picture by their decorated tree on the left, you let a chuckle out by thrilled parents filming a rather young child by your right, to what it seems taking their first steps by their excitement.

it was nice seeing different kind of life’s playing along the fairy lights on the streets bellow, secretly wishing yours would be a little bit like theirs, reality seems distant as you accidentally disassociate, thinking how -your- family would be seen compared to those merry ones, your parents resentment growing against each other every minute, barking mean comments left and right to you messing apparently everything up. The perfect picture of a broken home. Awful to see, awful to be part of.

You sigh as you recall what drove you to the edge moments ago, a silly comment really, it was so small compared to the constant bickering around the whole month of December, but picking on you eating a single cookie? That you made? You spent the whole day cooking. The whole day trying to have a good Christmas, you can feel yourself fuming as you remember how much you have worked your ass off the whole month for their presents, for a good Christmas dinner, as they wouldnt even buy a single pair of sock for you. Give you a single “thank you” for all of your efforts, You tried, you really did, Despite all the odds against your favor, you still tried, when you finally decide you give yourself a taste of your hard work, your family dares to give you shit about your eating habits? No. Nuh uh.

That was the last drop. You marched to your room as you heard someone giving you shit one last time after harshly dropping the plate on the dining table. knew you would be screwed when they found out you were gone, no amount of locks would keep them at bay for longer than 2 to 3 hours. But god, you needed a time out. Yes, you would rather freeze your butt on a dirty and frozen roof top than to listen to another passive aggressive bullshit comment.

“you have been hiding here all this time?” A familiar voice fills out of the foggyness of your thoughts, your head turns around slightly, watching a well known silhouette marvelously shining through the moonlight “nobody’s seen you in days” his tone isn’t harsh or accusative, you can almost hear a incredulous chuckle out of him, he speaks lightly, curious to your whereabouts, you can also hear him landing near the regular rooftop entrance, you stare once again to the uncountable windows and buildings in front of you.

He waits for you to retaliate, reply with witty comeback, flash him an apologetic smile, anything, but silence wins you over. He knew something was up when you were this quiet, your family would be the main topic when you vanished like that, he also knew you needed space to deal with such matter, in due time, you would ask for comfort, you would seek for his presence, just like when he comes to you, yet this time it never came, you never came. The ninja turtle slowly leans over, trailing his eyes ahead as you do.

A sniff catches him off guard, he knows it shouldnt, but it does, he glances at you to finally see your glossy eyes staring ahead, a blush covering your cheeks and nose; You look adorable, sad, disappointed, frustrated, but still can’t help but to find you adorable, his hearts stings as you rapidly catch a sneaky tear roll down your cheek, turning your back at him before he can catch you in this arms.

“Didn’t want to bother.” your voice comes out more shaky than you would like, a bit hoarse due to the current season, you rub your hands together, if he questioned about your well being, you could just blame it on the cold weather,on the perfect snowflakes falling above you two.

“You could never bother” he trails along slowly, weary as if you were a scared cat, afraid that any hasty movement could make you dash “how about we go to the lair? Everyone misses you.” he gently places a hand on your back, “I miss you” he ponders, moving slowly to be by your side, your eyes don’t meet his, he wants to lean down, he wants your eyes locked on his, he wants you to trust him as much as he trusts you, he wants nothing more but to hold you close and kiss your sorrows and tears away.

he stays put instead, waiting on your call.

You instinctively turns towards him, his warmth drawing you in, you want to smile, to tell him over and over that eveything is fine, you were just busy, he doesn’t have to worry.

Instead your mouth is pressed in a tight line, you can feel your lips trembling when you try to speak, you know words will come out wobbly, and for the first time, you won’t be able to hold back tears in front of him. This is pathetic. You think, you want to be at the lair. You want to be near them, but how can you explain you can’t bare to see their love, brotherhood and companionship tonight? You can’t feel part of it? This night isn’t about you, it has never been and it will never will be, you just get used to it.

You look up; your thoughts swimming through your eyes, you open and close your mouth, how do you explain you crave affection, but can’t seem to bear it?

The turtle holds you in a swift movement, carrying you with ease, gently but still firmly holding you against his plastron in princess style, the familiar adrenaline rushes trough you as you can feel him jumping from roof top to roof top, you don’t have words to question him, astoundingly admiring him as you stare at his focused face facing the horizon ahead.

You close your eyes for a moment, learning your face over the valley of his neck and collarbone, in a blink of an eye, songs, chatter and laughter fills the air and you remember you are in New York , the most magical city to be this time of year. Yes, you had probably the crappiest month of your life, but for a moment, you let yourself drift away in bliss, focusing on sounds and passing colorful lights.

He settles both you on a empty office balcony, everything is dark inside accept for the faint lights on a very worn out tree looking back at you, you check your own reflection, your eyes are red and puffy, your hair is uneven, and there are millions of colors shining behind you.

The Rockefeller was the most iconic place all over New York during Christmas time, slowly turning around, the tree and it’s surroundings leaving you both speechless, you loved Christmas lights, it was impressive to say the least how the decorations were absolutely ethereal. ever so slowly, you both sit down and admire the virw quietly.

“You don’t have to deal with everything on your own” is the first line he graces you, you wanna laugh with that alone, look who’s talking you think over, but you can’t say it, you know he is right, he chuckles as if he could read your mind, he gently tilts your head upwards “next time, call me. Text me. Reach out, for goddess sake.” He smiles at you, you let out a huff, smiling shyly “you have so much on your plate already, I just, I didn’t-“

“You deserve so much better” he shakes his head, lips pressed in a thin line. Over many years of his life, he has thought he had too little and humans had absolutely everything on top side, it was unfair and left a sour taste over his mouth. you have shown him that kind of thought was childish, he had a family, he had people he could count on, that’s alone is a lot more than what many people have, He can’t take that fact for granted anymore.

He also knew your biggest wish was to be part of something like that, his biggest wish was to make you feel part of it, maybe even something more.

You shyly lace your pinky with one of his fingers, ducking away as you felt your face burning under his deep gaze, you were so appreciative of his family, of him, of his patience and dedication, to say you have a crush on the turtle was an understatement, everything the he did made your heart skip a beat, the way he would always seek out for you during hangouts, how he cared for your preferences and well being, you found yourself unable to look away when he was training, when he would laughs so care freely, when he gets lost on his interests and everything seems to slow down around the both of you. You rest your head gently over his shoulder, you know you can get lost in his eyes quickly, you bite your lip when you think of his, and how heavenly it would feel against yours.

“It’s alright..” that what you manage to come up with, it’s cheap and it’s empty, but you don’t know what else to say. “No it’s not.” He says it firmly, interlocking your fingers tightly to prove his point.

Sometimes, you swear he feels the same as you do, you swear you can catch a soft longing from him across the dinging table, across the dojo over self defense training, short glances that are filled with unspoken words, that the innocent touches are not so innocent anymore. but life has taught you not to hang on those wishes, not to have hope. It was hurtful to do so.

“why do you care?” you let a frustrated sigh out, you hate how you just asked that the moment the words left your mouth, you aren’t frustrated at him per say, more towards your feelings, at how clammy your hands feel around his, how fast your heart is beating, how you secretly hope he knows that you didn’t mean to let that question out, how much of a chicken you were, how you fought annoying daydreaming scenarios with him on daily basis and yet just wish he kissed you already.

“Because I do.” he makes you look at him again, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, and for the first time tonight, you look at him, you really look at him, how he is breathing fast, how dilated his pupils are when he looks at you, how his thumb drags temptingly over the bottom of your lips, letting out a shaky breath as he squeezes your hand one last time.

“because I just do.” His gaze is locked in yours, pleading, full of what you have denied yourself for years, telling eveything you have ever wanted without any words. He was yours, and you are his.

you finally tell yourself fuck it and kiss him.

It’s desperate, it’s passionate, it’s eveything you want and more, you drag your nails on the nape of his neck and draws him into your space, your chest hits is plastron as he grips your hips as he pins you down against the ground, the way you hook one of your leg on top of his shell drives out a moan out of him, making you arch your back, you nibble his bottom lip as you swear you gonna lose your mind.

You don’t know how long has passed, your grip on him is as strong as his as you lay beneath him, you makeout until you are both out of breath, until the anger and frustration has been worn out and you two slowly melt together, once fervent kisses turns into soft, gentle ones, until you are both looking at each other, smiling and giving pecks between giggles, translating eveything you have both been feeling towards each other

“Goddamn.” he draws a hearty laugh out of both you, the turtle rests is forehead against yours, sighing dreamily, giving you feather light kisses on your cheeks as you pull him closer.

“I care a lot about you too.” you drunkly smile to him, caressing his cheeks tenderly, “I sure hope so.” you hook your arms around his neck, laughing at his antics.

“I gotta tell you something tho.” you tilt your head curiously, he looks down at your lips, licking instinctively as you bite yours.

“you surprisingly taste like gingerbread cookies”

That makes you giggle once more.

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It’s 3 am and Idk how to finish so hopefully the end it’s not too abrupt *confetti sounds* 🎉 let me know if you guys liked it!

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #giulia writes #tmnt headcanons #tmnt 2007 #tmnt raph #tmnt mikey #tmnt leonardo #tmnt 2003 #tmnt donatello #tmnt fandom #tmnt bayverse turtles x reader #tmnt bayverse

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