#let her be her actual self dammit!

[smolstarthief]

Persona 5 Royal Crossover events stop calling Sumire, "Kasumi" challenge (Impossible). 😮‍💨😭

[our-lady-of-mcr]

everytime i think im done ranting i remember something else LMFAO this one is extra long i hit tag limit god mf damn

[impactrueno]

Beetlejuice clearly wasn't interested in Lydia when they met, so when do you think he actually fell for her? Was he so impressed by Lydia defeating him that he developed a little crush?

i think this might be the biggest thing i've been turning around in my head since the sequel dropped. how did bro get to this point. i need to know. you weren't like this where we left off, what happened during that huge time gap????

this is where canon ends and conjecture begins, you just have to theorize and fill in the gaps yourself with whatever makes the most sense to you, which is what i've been trying to do this whole time. so please bear with me here.

i don't know how much i want share or save for my comics because i don't know how much he would actually reveal about this but whatever we ball

edit: ok so i scrolled back up to this after finishing writing this and as it turns out i have no self control and i ended up sharing everything that crossed my mind. craziest stream of consciousness i've ever written down. strap on and keep your limbs inside the ride at all times. whatever. we BALL.

let's review their first encounter from his point of view:

you're hired to scare the deetzes, right? so you do just that. excellently you might add. just when you're about to terrorize their teenage daughter, barbara banishes you and the party is over. what fucking losers right? you get the sense that adam and barbara care about this girl so you make some remark about her and it pisses them off. haha. also whoa where did this place come from? damn adam, who could've guessed he had it in him. you forget about everything else and dance your way to dante's inferno room.

after spending a respectably tasteful evening with those ladies, you're chill now. relaxing under your little sun lamp to work on your tan.

someone walks in looking for adam and barbara. don't they know they're dead?

"are you a ghost too?"

"i'm the ghost with the most, babe."

hold on a sec, who's even—

...well hey. it's the girl.

the girl who can see ghosts, and she's talking to you.

target acquired. this one's your ticket out of this hellhole.

"you look like somebody i can relate to," you tell her. relate how? doesn't matter. you're ensnaring her with your affable demeanor like you always do, make people feel like you're pals with them first and foremost. she seems like a nice girl, so this should be easy. you tell her upfront that you want to get out of there and you need her help to do so.

"i want to get in," she says.

whoa there.

what? she wants to get in? she says that in response to you saying that you wanted out. she really has no idea what it's like on the other side, huh. but shit, that kinda stops you in your tracks a bit. this girl wants to die. this young? that's not right. makes no sense.

"...why?"

she just looks at you and says nothing. jesus. ok maybe it's none of your business so let's back it up. you're losing control of the conversation and you're on a mission here. you figure if she helps you get out, you might as well talk her off that ledge or show her how shitty it is on the other side or somethin'. frankly, you can't afford to care right now. you're not entirely sure why she thinks things would be better on the side you're so desperate to get out of, but alright. doesn't matter, right now you gotta get her to summon you. so you begin your little game of charades.

after she correctly guesses your name and almost says it a third time, she recognizes you as the snake that terrorized her family. god fucking dammit. you're losing her. you're getting impatient. your affable act is over. "nah...i want to talk to barbara," she says and now she's REALLY getting on your nerves because fuck barbara, fuck adam, you're SO CLOSE to getting out and you're not gonna let this go now, go go GO GO SAY IIIIIIITTTTTTT

adam and barbara walk in because of course they do. womp womp

ok well that didn't work, but you're not gonna give up so easily. sooner or later another opportunity will come and soon you will be free.

wait why are they moving the model— where are they taking it—

ooohhhhh. business meeting. get a load of these yuppies, trying to turn winter river into a town-sized Ripley's Believe it or Not. a talking marcel marceau statue? and you thought you were a con man. no wonder the deetz girl wants to die, it's bleak as hell here too. but if you get out...you can fix that. hell, you can fix anything.

these bozos are here to see some ghosts, but the girl says they're not going to show up unless the fleshbags stop making a mockery out of the whole thing and that maybe they can all live happy together in the house. ain't that sweet.

of course no one's taking her seriously. she's a kid, what does she know, right? they'd rather listen to the most obnoxious guy in the room (besides yourself) who has no idea what the fuck he's talking about, but somehow, he's got his hands on the handbook.

the girl panics, then immediately says completely deadpan "wait, what am i even worried about, otho, you can't even change a tire" and you're surprised they didn't hear how hard you cackled at that.

despite all that, they seem to have started a séance with their old wedding clothes. bad news for the maitlands. they're about to be dead-dead. the girl cries for them to stop, and these guys are just sitting there scared shitless. you're hearing everything. you knew a new opportunity would arise, so you wait, because this is the part where people remember how good at your job you are. they always do.

she knows you can help. you're the only one who can help. so here she comes. those wedding clothes give you an idea. plan B is now in motion.

well well well.

look who came crawling back.

she asks for your help, and you're happy to oblige, under one condition of course. after all, you don't do anything for free, and she's the only one who can help you with your problem. how serendipitous.

once again, you lay it on her, straight up. you want out. and a way to do it (thanks adam and barbara for the reminder) is through marriage with a fleshbag. you need to get married. a green card marriage, if you will.

she's immediately disgusted by the idea. you don't take that personally, of course, because it doesn't matter. she's just a kid and it's not a real marriage. she just happens to be unlucky enough to be the only one around who can assist you with this, the poor girl. it's a marriage of convenience—or rather, inconvenience—and you're not planning on sticking around because you will get the hell out of there as soon as you can. so there shouldn't be a problem, right? besides, does she know how many women would kill to be in that position? she gets to brag about it to her friends, what's not to like? it's a totally even deal.

the clock is ticking and the maitlands aren't getting any younger. she agrees to the deal. you win, at last.

she already knows what to do, so you sit there patiently with a shit-eating grin on your face, awaiting the three little B words. gloating.

Beetlejuice........Beetlejuice...........Beetlejuice.

it's showtime.

this is your favorite part. you love a dramatic entrance. you decide to show the deetzes and their greedy friends the circus they so wanted to turn this town into. horrible as you are, you're also pretty damn good at calling out other people's horribleness, and you do love an ironic karmic way of dealing with someone. for example tubby here thinks he can escape, but not before you change his sleek black suit into a tacky white leisure suit. the horror! this is why you're a professional at this.

you effortlessly end the exorcism and the maitlands are saved. a little pruney right now but they'll be fine. everything is taken care of, you have fulfilled your end of the deal like you promised. only one thing left to do.

"shall we?"

there's really no need to make a whole show out of this, but you're a showman first and foremost and as a 𝒥𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓊𝓂 you'll be damned if you're not gonna let yourself have a little fun with this. everyone looks terrified. this is why you're a professional at this.

witnesses and reverend in place, you can finally begin the ceremony. you're having fun, yes, but let's try to pick up the pace a bit, okay? the closer you get to your goal, the more impatient you get. the girl isn't finding any of this very funny at all and she protests. the maitlands butt in and are now kind of twisting your arm a bit, but you deal with them harmlessly, until they get on your last nerve so you send adam to the model and barbara to saturn. all of this after you honorably fulfilled your end of the bargain and saved the day. jesus christ, are you the only one with some integrity around here or what.

you forget the stupid ring. shit. you're pretty sure you have it on you somewhere, ever since you chopped up delores into pieces for poisoning you. you kept her ring finger as a trophy and as a reminder to never get married again, and yet here you are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. finally, you find the ring (still on her severed finger) and hastily tell your new bride-to-be that delores meant nothing to you. in case she even cares. she doesn't seem to. not even a chuckle? oh well.

almost done with the ceremony. almost there. you're holding the girl's hand with an iron grip to keep her in place as you're about to put that ring on her finger. "i now pronounce you, man and—"

a tiny car crashes against your foot and it catches on fire. you scream. a fucking sandworm crashes into the room through the ceiling. everyone screams. you scream LOUDER.

you're sent back to the afterlife waiting room.

not your first rodeo with a sandworm, but that doesn't make the experience any less shitty. the real annoying part is being in the waiting room again. this could take ages. you're number 9,998,383,750,000 and they're serving number 3 right now. you trick the guy next to you and steal his ticket (number 4) but he's not too pleased about that, so that didn't work.

a long time sitting here it is, then.

movie ends, credits roll.

for reference, that was 1988. winona ryder was 15 when they were filming in 1987 so while lydia doesn't have a confirmed age, i think we can safely assume that she was the same age as winona at the time.

36 years later, it's 2024. or 34 years later, it's 2022. we don't know the exact year because while bob's in memoriam credits scene says 2024 and all the interviews talk about how 36 years have passed in universe as well, there's this other one tiny detail.

jeremy's death passport says he died on march 11, 1999. jane butterfield says he died "23 years ago," putting the movie in 2022. they did film it in 2022 so the math is mathing correctly there. given that the in memoriam scene was more of a joke and jeremy's passport is a canon prop in the movie, i'd say 2022 is the canon year the movie is set in. (small sidenote; the passport also has the roman numerals DCLXVI which is 666. cute detail i loved it)

in the sequel, beetlejuice says lydia has been ignoring him for 30 years. i always thought that was curious because outside of this claim, they always specify how many years exactly have passed since. he doesn't say 34 or 36, he says 30. and for his degree of obsession (and the fact that he remembers exactly how many times he's watched The Exorcist) i think he would be counting even the days so i think he did really mean 30 years. so this would mean at least 4 years passed between getting sent back to the waiting room and the beginning of his stalking.

AND NOW that we established all that, we are finally getting to the answer to the question, "when and how did this all start?"

so okay, he spent a while in the waiting room. a lot of time to think. probably replaying the events at the deetzes' in his head over and over, how he got here, where he fucked up, what's he gonna do once he gets out. cursing the maitlands for ruining his plan when he was soooo fucking close. wondering what ever happened to lydia deetz.

lydia deetz, the young girl who told him she wanted to die.

...

is she alright?

i don't think he's capable of feeling guilt, but we can probably argue that he's not entirely heartless. what she said about how she wanted to "get in" must've stuck with him from the way he reacted when she dropped that bomb. she never showed up in the waiting room so he knows she didn't follow through with that. still, he used a vulnerable young girl for his own selfish gain. ironically enough, he knows exactly how that feels, because he also got tricked into marriage and got used for someone else's gain. the difference being that he dealt with that shit with an axe.

much much much to think about for mr. juice.

after years of ruminating in that waiting room, he's finally out and back to the regular day to day afterlife. definitely gets chewed out by juno, maybe forced to do community service or labor or what have you, he basically just needs to clean up his act now. this freelancing shit is becoming more trouble than it's worth anyway.

he's still wondering about lydia deetz. should he check in on her? maybe he should, he's too curious now.

at this point, lydia is now about 19-21 and in college. maybe he manages to sneak into the model one time she's back home for the holidays or something. and oh my god would you look at that, what a beautiful young woman she's grown into. she's radiant. she's happy. she's no longer that gloomy suicidal kid he met in the attic. seems like what she said about the deetzes and the maitlands sharing the house did come true after all.

that's nice. very sweet. good to know.

maybe he wonders if she remembers him and tries to get her attention somehow, give her a little scare for old times sake or whatever. for a brief moment it seems like she saw something and her expression changes, but she shrugs it off and continues on chatting with her two sets of parents. no such luck.

oh well. curiosity sated! and beetlejuice goes back home and doesn't return.

until the next time he returns.

and he keeps coming back to check in on her, telling himself he's just making sure that she hasn't killed herself or something. and he's not above admitting that with every year that passes, she keeps getting more beautiful. and to think they almost got married, huh.

he constantly tries to get her to notice him somehow, and sometimes she almost does, but ultimately he never really succeeds beyond making her do a double take. very rarely she does catch a glimpse of him. he's seen her mutter to herself that she's just seeing things and she seems a bit frightened every time this happens, but there's nothing to fear, honey, it's just good ol' beetlejuice. he won't lie, he gets a bit of a rush every time and it makes his dead heart beat faintly. he's gotten this far, he can't just stop now. in his mind, this has become their little private game of cat and mouse, where the mouse ignores the cat. but aren't they cute? he thinks they're cute. this is not creepy at all!

before he realizes, he's already learned everything about her. he knows about richard and even watched their wedding from afar like a loser. he knows she gave birth to a healthy baby girl named astrid. he knows they have a blast on halloween. halloween is lydia's favorite holiday, and his too. sometimes he can't help but see the three of them happy together and think it could've totally been him. even if he and richard are nothing alike (in fact could not be more opposite) and the circumstances of their unholy wedding were nothing short of grim and a farce. but in his mind, he's starting to convince himself otherwise.

maybe it's his jealousy speaking, but lydia doesn't seem to be that happy with richard despite everything. even though richard is like, the perfect guy. then one day his suspicions are proven correct: neither of them knows why it happened, but after having a long and emotional talk (that he watched with a bucket of popcorn) they decide to get a divorce. he pumps his fist, feeling victorious for some reason. sure he's a little sadistic at times, but why is this giving him so much glee?

the divorce is hard on lydia's kid, who was always more attached to her father, but they still spend a lot of time together. sometimes the three of them, since richard and lydia kept things amicable after the divorce. lydia tries to move on and see other people, but each relationship fails before it even starts. mostly because she keeps holding back and so fails to connect with anyone else, but also sometimes because, well, he can't help himself but to scare them away from her from time to time. it's fun. in his mind, he's just being protective of her, as a gentleman should for a lady.

then richard dies. fell into a piranha infested river from the looks of it (he saw him at immigration one day, don't ask what he was doing around there, force of habit after constantly making sure lydia hasn't killed herself yet.) it's devastating for both lydia and astrid, straining their relationship even more for the next few years as they both try to cope with the loss. the shock proves to be too much for lydia, so she goes to a survivors retreat to work through her trauma, both from richard's death and "unresolved feelings."

then lydia, at her most vulnerable, meets rory.

beetlejuice was able to clock him immediately. a textbook manipulative opportunist, he himself knows the tactics very well. swoop in to "help" someone in a vulnerable position, pull the wool over their eyes and begin taking control so you can get what you want out of that person.

he wouldn't admit it, but this really irks beetlejuice. you know when you see someone who reminds you of the worst parts of yourself, so you despise them? yeah. he's been there, and he's also been him.

but rory is somehow even worse than beetlejuice. see, rory is her manager, and boy does he manage to get on his nerves. he takes her phone. he controls what medication she takes. he blames and guilt trips her about every mishap that HE causes, making himself look like her benevolent savior and making her feel like she would be lost without him, confusing her with his psychobabble. on top of all that, he's forcing her to do this hacky show called Ghost House where she "hunts ghosts" or whatever. the houses he's been helping newly-deads with in his day job as a bio-exorcist (now with a fleet of employees,) she's "hunting" those ghosts now. it's so dumb. it never works. beetlejuice doesn't even know what the hell she's doing, she's phoning it in most of the time and she knows she's become a sellout. what happened to that "strange and unusual" girl who stood up for her ghost friends when those suits wanted to profit off of them back in winter river?

he needs to bring that back. he's the only one who can.

in his mind, beetlejuice has already rewritten the events that transpired. in his mind, lydia has been his wife this entire time, it's just, y'know, one of those open long distance relationships and she doesn't always remember him, but that's okay. in his mind, they share a psychic bond that allows her to sense his presence or see him in her dreams from time to time. he's got nothing to be jealous about, because other men can't compare. no one else can match what they have.

sure, part of him knows he's lying to himself a little bit. but he's already clung to this idea; these past 30 years wouldn't make sense otherwise. he's in love with lydia deetz. this isn't insane of him to say at all. and if it is, well, you know what they say, love makes you do batshit crazy things.

it's not that complicated, no matter what they say you'll never meet another me it's not that difficult to get my head around i'll never meet another you

the end

don't trick me into writing a fanfic again

[teaspacebar]

spiced chai

pairing: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader

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

word count: ~9.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here, where are you —“

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d you even get it all here?” 

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

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

“Uh, yeah – yeah, I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No, don’t worry about it.”

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

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

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

Fridge  Ask for Fak Say Carm sent you

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

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

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

She nods, “Please.”

“How are you?” 

“Oh, you know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Natalie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what I’m saying!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what we’re saying!” 

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

Nan’s Books & Brews

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

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

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

“A lot’s changed,” he murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For me?!”

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

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

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

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

You sputter, “Oh. Um—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s this?” 

“Cash, for the milk you bought.”

“You didn’t have to-“

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

“Good luck with the opening.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

"Let it rip, Bear."

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“-a complete waste of fucking time.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

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

Natalie invites you to Friends & Family.

You don’t go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you're looking right at him.

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“I don’t really do the…caffeine.”

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

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

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

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

“Do you normally do this?” He asks.

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

He scratches at his nose, “Noted.”

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

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

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

You shrink back a little, “W-what?”

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

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

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

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

“I haven’t even been to eat there.”

“You should come,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not-”

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

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

“For yelling at you?”

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

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

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

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

“Unless you’re behind the counter.”

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

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

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

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

Take care of yourself.

At least enjoy it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It feels a little too close to home.

“You really loved it over there, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t—”

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

“Is it a moth, or something?”

“Moth-man, Carmen. Mothman.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?”

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

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

You smile, “Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

“Starving,” you groan.

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart twinges a little, “Thanks.”

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

“Hey Carm?!”

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

Natalie raises an eyebrow, “You busy?”

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

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

Fuck, don’t be an asshole, asshole.

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

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

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

“What notification?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d love that, Bear.”

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

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

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

You’re here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⋆⁺Carmy!⁺˚⋆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dude, we got shit to do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A moment of hesitation, then, “Okay.”

“Cool.” And he’s off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fritters!” Marcus calls out from his station.

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

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

Let it rip, Bear.

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

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

They’re talking about you.

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

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

“You should absolutely come!”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll walk you out, yeah?”

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

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

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

He’s trying to make you feel better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carmen Berzatto keeps seeing you. Whoever that is.

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

“You know where I’ll be.”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

Spiced Chai ~ HOT, xtra cinn

[spidernuggets]

Jason Todd x Reader

"When things get too heavy for you, you tell me, and we carry that shit TOGETHER, so it's not so heavy anymore!"

Warnings: misperception of cheating (Jason doesn't actually cheat, he'd never my baby boy mwah), mentions of alcohol, comparisons to Artemis, self-shaming

When Jason walked into your shared apartment, a faint smell of alcohol travelled through the air. This raised your suspicions even more.

Jason had told you last night he had gone on a quick emergency mission instead of his usual patrol, so he wasn't able to message or call you.

But last night, quickly popping into a nearby bar that your cousin worked at to drop off her house keys that she forgot she left with you, you saw a familiar black with a white streak hair man at the counter just when you were walking out the door. And for a split second, you could've sworn you saw a long-haired ginger woman beside him.

You shook the idea away, telling yourself that you trust Jason. Ever since Jason told you that he was Red Hood, the two of you pinky swore to never keep secrets from each other. You would've thought by then that Jason would've told you more about it, but he was pretty quiet about it. You figured that it was all the same mishaps for every patrol.

But you could smell his usual Coors Light wafting off of him as he walks towards you to kiss your head.

"Hey pretty," he barely mumbled before going into the kitchen, digging through the fridge.

As much as his little nicknames made your heart beat faster, you couldn't get the faint image of his hair and a certain Amazonian ex's hair together. And every second you thought of it, the more you could feel your heart crack a little further.

"Where were you last night?" Your voice was small, but the small, almost empty apartment made it easy for Jason to hear you.

"What? I told you, I was at a missi-"

"Don't lie to me. I know you weren't on a mission. I saw you." You spat. You wanted to be wrong. You wanted Jason to laugh at you, hug you, and call Dick or Bruce or anyone and tell them to tell you he was on a mission with them.

"Were you with Artemis?" You ask, wanting it all to be untrue.

Jason didn't look at you. He sighed. "Yeah? So what. It's not like anything happened." He said nonchalantly.

"You expect me to believe that after you lied to me about going on a mission and I catch you at a bar with your ex?" You scoff, your arms crossed and leg folded over the other. You sucked in a breath. "You know, you could've at least broken up with me. It would've felt nicer than you blatantly cheating on me without trying to let me know"

"Wait, what?" Jason said in disbelief. He couldn't say anything else. He didn't know how to explain his situation to you. So he stayed silent.

You slowly nodded your head. "Okay," you whispered, getting up to go to your shared bedroom. Well.. maybe not so shared bedroom now. You grabbed a bag, trying to stuff whatever you can into it.

Jason soon rushes in after you. "What- what are you doing??" He asks in a panic. "You're not leaving- you can't, please!" He begs.

You shook your head. "You left first! You left me by the time you let Artemis all over you! You know what- Honestly, I'm so stupid. Why the fuck would you want to be with someone like me anyway."

You didn't see Jason or Artemis all over each other that split second that you saw them. But now knowing that they definitely were together last night - that whole night, all you could imagine Jason realising that you weren't enough for him, that maybe he made a mistake separating with Artemis.

You wiped away the falling tears you didn't even know escaped your eyes as you zipped up the bag.

"No, wait! Don't leave- Dammit!" Jason fumbled over his words. "Nothing happened! She wasn't all over me! Just- Just stay, okay?? Nothing happened. Seeing her last night was just a one-time thing!"

You could hardly process what he was saying. There was ringing in your ears, and your vision was blurred. "Don't do that to me. Don't do that 'one-time' bullshit. If you really wanted me to stay, it should've been a zero time thing."

It was obvious that you thought you were a downgrade to Jason's past lovers. Or at least that's what you thought. But you found yourself so much less as a partner than his other lovers that all you can think about him going back to any of them.

"Listen, I'm sorry! I promise nothing happened! I won't lie to you again! It won'thaopen again!" He raises his voice, desperate for you to stay.

I slumped my shoulders. "How am I supposed to believe it won't happen again, huh? If it happened once, it's bound to happen again! How am i supposed to believe that you won't run off again to some other girl who's stronger, prettier and- and is just as badass as you are- I'm none of those things, Jason! If that's what you really wanted, then why even bother with me?!" You lay out all of your insecurities and weakness to Jason. Your breathing becomes heavy and uneven.

His brows furrowed. You were strong. You were beautiful. And you'd never even given him the chance to think you weren't.

"I'm not 'bothering' with you! What I really want is you! Not some other girl with muscles and-" He paused, trying to gather his words. And failing. He had no idea what the right thing to say was. All he knew for sure was that you were the only one he wanted. "I only want you."

"Then why the hell were you with Artemis in the first place?" You cried, throwing your bag over your shoulder, ready to leave.

"Look. It was just one time. I was at a weak place and- and she was there to help me. That's it. Nothing more." He tried to explain.

"So why not come to me if you're feeling that way, Jason?! That's literally what I'm here for, I'm here for you! Was I just not enough that you had to go to Artemis?!"

He growled, the question hitting a nerve. "You know I would tell you if something was bothering me. The reason I didn't is because- because I don't want to be a burden to you! You have enough shit knowing who I really am and I-"

He paused, swallowing. "You don't need me to be another bother in your life. You're strong, you're confident, you don't need me weighing you down with my bullshit."

You scoffed, pulling your hair back, your hand gripping against your hair. "Jesus Christ- I WANT you to weigh me down with your bullshit! That's my job when I decided to be in a relationship with you! When things get too heavy for you, you tell me, and we carry that shit TOGETHER, so it's not so heavy anymore! That's why I always talk to you when I have problems because I know you're there to help me! I know I know nothing about your life as a vigilante, and that Artemis is probably best suited for you, but I'm here, Jason! So don't you dare use that bullshit excuse on me!" You panted, tired and dried tears on your cheeks. You dropped yourself to sit on the bed, holding your face in your hands, your elbows resting on your knees.

You knew Jason had as many insecurities as you did. You knew the struggles he had as a vigilante. But you wanted him to come to you. You didn't want to push him by forcing him to tell you his problems.

Your words struck a chord in him. You wanted him. All of him. Not just the good parts but the bad parts as well. Even all his 'bullshit.' He took a step closer, testing the waters and putting his hands on your cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I never should have kept those things from you. I guess I just- I mean, I thought that you knowing about my life scared you enough. I didn't want to put more on you about my problems about my job too.." He weakly says, his head hanging low as he sits beside you on the bed. "I just thought... If I don't tell you any of this shit... you wouldn't be overwhelmed... and that you wouldn't leave."

You shook your head. "You're so selfish. You're so fucking selfish for thinking about those things about me. For thinking I'd leave you just because you're not perfect- I'm literally dating you because you're not perfect." You said quietly, your voice hoarse and raw.

Jason felt a lump grow in his throat. "I just didn't want to hurt you," he insisted, pressing his forehead against yours. "I just didn't want to lose you. And I messed everything up. But I promise you. Nothing happened between me and Artemis. You mean more to me than she ever has."

He sighed, looking into your eye. "Can you forgive me? Can we go back to the way things were?" He asked softly. "Please..." His quiet pleads were small and desperate. His eyes were soft and glossy, with hopes of you staying.

You slowly pulled away from him. "Get me my bag." You said with no emotion.

"What?" He said, feeling deflated and feeling his soul shatter.

"Just do it." You demanded.

His eyes closed as his shoulders slumped, feeling like he finally lost you, that you had really given up on him. His fingers tightened around his fists. After a moment, Jason went to get your bag across the room and brought it around to you, presenting the bag to you in his hands. He he stood in front of you, waiting for you to take the bag and leave.

"Now take the stuff out of it and put it back where they were," you muttered while sniffling.

His brows furrowed in confusion. "I-What?" His eyes widened slightly as he slowly realized what you were getting at. Your words suddenly caught up in his brain, and he realized exactly what you were asking of him. You weren't going anywhere. Jason rushed to take everything out of the bag and put them back where they belonged. He then stood in front of you, waiting for you to speak.

You shifted from your spot, laying yourself comfortably on the bed, your back facing him.

Like communicating telepathically, he laid next to you, just as you secretly wanted, ready to apologise for the millionth time until you spoke up.

You sighed and paused before speaking. "I'm not forgiving you. Not now, at least. And I doubt I'll forgive you tomorrow. Or the day after. But I will... Eventually.." You took a deep breath. "But I'm not leaving you. Because I love you. But if you pull this shit ever again, I might. And probably kill you. And from now on, you need to tell me shit you're going through. No matter how bullshit it may seem. So that you don't have to lie to me or find comfort someplace else. So that I can understand you.. And so that you wouldn't feel the need to go find some other girl who you think can carry your weight better than I can. Understand?" You said, avoiding eye contact.

"I understand," Jason finally said with a nod. He reached out his hand to touch your face. "I'm sorry. You mean the world to me. I don't want to lose you either. And you're right... I won't keep things from you anymore. You'll be the first to know now..."

You slowly nodded, finally looking in his eyes. You let yourself cuddle closer to him. As you pressed yourself against him, he wrapped his arms around you in a tight squeeze. His fingers traced your spine, and he breathed in the scent of your hair. He was so grateful that you weren't leaving... That you were still willing to give him another chance.

"I love you," he whispered, holding you close.

I need constructive criticism. did i make reader or whole thing too dramatic or... I NEED FEEDBACK

[sapphic-kpop-fics]

Fri(end)s (Huh Yunjin x Reader)

Angst, kinda unhealthy situationship, kinda happy ending where they get their shit together.

You're in my head

I had plans for the weekend

But wound up with you instead

Back here again

Yunjin hadn’t answered any of your texts this week, after you had seen each other the Saturday before and hooked up like you had in the past. It had always ended this way, you hook up, argue a bit while she insists you’re just friends

“Y/n?” you heard as soon as you answered the call from Yunjin, her voice raspy like she had been crying.

You were currently getting ready to hang out with your friends and go to a club.

“Jen? Everything okay?”

“Can you come over?” Her voice wobbles like she’ll start crying any second, your heart breaks for her but you shouldn’t blow off your friends to comfort your situationship, right? This is was something that happened often, her calling you only when she’s upset or horny or usually both.

“Jen, I wish I could but I’m actually busy.”

“Oh…” a deep breath, and you can hear her start to cry a bit, “okay, that’s okay…I’m sorry for calling, I shouldn’t have. Go have fun.” She rushes out the words so her voice wouldn’t tremble as much when she spoke.

“Wait Jen. I’ll be there 20.”

“Thank you.” And the she hangs up.

You press the contact of your best friend, Yeji.

“Hey Yeji…” you start

“Don’t tell me you’re canceling again.” She said already knowing where this was heading.

“I’m sorry..”

“Are you going to see her?”

“What? No.” Not believable at all.

“God dammit y/n, I told you, you have to stop seeing her. She’s literally ruining you.”

“No she’s not.” You insist.

“Just last night you were crying in my apartment because she hadn’t texted you back in a week.” Yeji argues, proving her point.

“I can’t help it… she sounded really upset.” you admit, voice quiet.

“I know.” Your best friend knows you’re still going to go see the girl, as you weren’t very good at self control when it came to her, “Be careful. Try not to end the night yelling and crying this time.” A reference to the many arguments you and Yunjin shared, mostly at her lack of feelings but she’d say it’s because you have too many feelings.

So you go to her dorm, where Chaewon lets you in and gives you a pitiful look, even her members knew that the way she treated you wasn’t okay. You didn’t want to think about the amount of people who felt that way, like you were prey trapped and unwilling to leave even when rescued.

You softly knock on her door and whisper a “jen?”

“Come in.” It’s small, almost unheard through the thick wood of the door.

When you walk in, your heart kinda breaks. She’s sitting on the floor in front of her bed, arms around her knees with ripped paper littering the floor in front of her, lyrics scribbled on the tiny pieces. You sit next to her silently waiting for her to open up.

“I love my job. But people can be so horrible sometimes.”

You had figured her songwriting had been a topic among hateful “fans” online from the scattered paper in front of you.

Her head leans against your shoulder now and instinctively you wrap your arm around her. And you sit there like that in silence for hours until she feels better, once again throwing away your night to help the girl.

Friends, just for now

Yeah, but friends don't say words that

Make friends feel like more than just

Friends

“You’re so beautiful you know that?”

You both were drunk after a night out with mutual friends and of course, you ended up in Yunjin’s bed without your clothes. The compliments weren’t normal though, Yunjin would say you’re hot and compliment you of course she wasn’t a monster however it was only during sex but here she was cuddling into you, whispering little compliments and confessions as if it’s nothing, you assume the alcohol has something to do with it.

“I wish I could treat you better.” You freeze your hand that’s rubbing her back when she finishes, “it’s just so….scary.” Her words are slurred, obvious she’s still drunk and so are you which is why you make no move to stop her from talking, “you deserve better.” Is all she gets out before falling asleep in your arms.

Friends are not supposed to get too close

And feel emotions that

We're feeling now, now, now

We ain't slowing down, down, down

It was another night where she had called you late, asking you to come over, saying she “needed” you in that pouty voice to get what she wants. So here you were standing in her room after she took all of her weeks frustration out on you, looking at her as she’s turned away from you.

“I think I love you.” You whisper as the ginger girl is getting dressed after one of your nights together. She freezes as she’s about to button her pants and sighs, you know what the sigh means and you knew this would be her response but you wanted her to know how you felt.

“I’m sorry, i don’t feel the same.” She deadpans, though you can tell she’s masking something underneath, “you said that was okay.”

“…it is.”

“Great.” She says as she starts walking to her door to open it as a gesture to get you to leave.

“I shouldn’t have fucking answered.” You mumble, meant to only be said to yourself but of course she heard you.

“But you did. You always do.” Finally turning to look at you, “it’s pathetic really. The way you come crawling to me no matter what I do.”

“That’s not true.”

“Really? I can bet that if I called you tomorrow after insulting you all night, you’d still answer.”

“That’s not true.” You shake your head, though you know it is true. It’s like something takes over you when she calls and you can’t control anything.

The way she laughs at you is mocking, and mean. She could be mean sometimes, not often, only when she was particularly stressed with her schedules and you were usually the one she took it out on whether it was in bed for hours or insulting you and mocked you until you cried and left.

“Oh really? Then what happened tonight?” Her head tilts, a challenge.

She was right, last week had ended exactly as it was going now and of course as soon as she called you answered and came over. Just like she said. You didn’t answer, avoiding her eyes that are staring at you. Tears dripped from your eyes.

“Are you fucking crying?” She scoffed, “i think you should go.” She finalized.

You don’t take another second to think before you’re pushing past her and out her door, tears falling more frequently now. Unfortunately, Chaewon sits on the couch in the living room right next to the door you have to leave out of. Her eyes connect with yours and there’s a mix of pity and worry.

“Are you okay?” She asks, but you knew she heard what was said and that Yunjin tells her everything.

“Fine.” Is all you say before opening the door and leaving, you hear Chaewon yell for Yunjin before the door closes fully, her voice angry.

Now, I'm over pretending

So let's put the "end" in friends

You’re sitting on Yunjin’s bed as she paces her room and lectures you once again on how she doesn’t want a relationship and she just wants to be friends that have fun together.

“We’re friends. That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” She affirms, voice hard, she means it.

‘’Maybe we shouldn’t be.”

“What?” Yunjin had only now started showing emotions other than annoyance at you.

“Maybe we should…. Put the end in friends if you know what I mean.”

“No. I need you.”

You laugh, it’s a bitter one as opposed to all the other times she made you laugh, a chill goes up Yunjin’s spine at the sound, looking to the ground as you do so.

“No you don’t. I don’t think you ever really did.”

“That’s not true.” Sounding familiar to one of the last times you saw her, this time she’s saying it.

“Don’t lie Yunjin. You never cared about me.”

Yunjin flinches a bit at the use of her full name, you had never called her that not even during your worst arguments, you had only and always called her Jen.

“I did. I cared.”

“You have a shitty way of showing it.”

Being faced with the truth, Yunjin’s heart feels like it’s shattering. The consequences of her actions had finally caught up to her, unfortunately one of them was losing you.

“You should go Yunjin. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

Your cold voice surprises Yunjin, it was a stark contrast to how you would speak to her even if arguing you never really raised your voice at her. It shocks her so much that she doesn’t hesitate to finish getting dressed and walking right out of the door without another word.

4 months later..

In your bed as you try and rest for the night your phone buzzes three times next to you.

Huh Yunjin

Hey.

I know it’s been a while.

I miss you.

You

Leave me alone.

Huh Yunjin

Open the door.

You’re confused at the message but then you heard a knock, this crazy woman actually showed up. You didn’t know if you felt upset or happy, I mean yes you shouldn’t be seeing her especially after four months of silence but then again she had never made the effort to show up to your place and talk to you, unless she was drunk.

When you look through the eye hole in your door, you see Yunjin same as a few months earlier but her hair is now a red color. Her eyes are red and puffy like she had been crying, she’s wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt as opposed to her usual attire when seeing you. She looked broken and it hurt you, so you open the door. Her watery eyes look at you in surprise when you finally open it, walking in after a few seconds of staring at you.

“Why are you here?” You ask as soon as your door is closed.

“Um-I-I don’t know.” She stutters, “i just wanted to see you i guess.”

You had never seen her like this before the usual confident girl was fidgeting with her hands and her eyes are fixed on her shoes, her voice was quieter than usual and sadness laced all of her words. You don’t know why you do it, an hour ago you would’ve said you hated her and you still might but your feet are moving and suddenly your arms are wrapped around her. She freezes in shock but returns the hug, her arms squeezing you tightly enough that you wouldn’t be able to get away, now that she is comforted by you the tears that filled her eyes are rapidly rolling down her face as she cries on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” She says after she calms down.

“For what?”

“Everything.”

You’re still hugging, Yunjin’s death grip not lightening yet.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we last talked.” Now starting to pull away from you, “I treated you horribly and you didn’t deserve it. We were never just friends not since we met I know that, I was just scared.”

“J-“

“I love you.” She cuts you off, she had said the words before in bed while fucking you but you didn’t know if she meant it and you still couldn’t tell.

“I don’t trust you.” You say, plain and simple, you felt sugarcoating was pointless at this point.

“You shouldn’t.” Her head shakes, “but I would really like if you gave me the chance to earn it back.”

“I don’t know Jen. I don’t wanna get hurt anymore.”

“I’ll be better. I will do anything.” The ginger girl grabs your hands, “I want to be with you, for real this time. And I’m such an idiot for not realizing sooner.”

“Yeah, you are.” With a playful smile that Yunjin returns, the tense air now becoming more comfortable. Her forehead rests against yours.

“Does this mean you’ll give me a chance?” Her voice is hopeful, and she’d be embarrassed by the pathetic nature of her question.

“It’s going to take a while.” She pulls her head away shocked, not expecting you to actually agree, “we can’t just go back to how we were, I’m talking starting from scratch.”

“I can do that.” She agrees a little too quickly.

“Go home.” You tell her as you let go of her hands a few moments later.

“I can’t stay?”

“Starting from scratch Yunjin. Take me on a date first and then you can maybe have sleepovers.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.” A smile on her face, then she walks out of the door giving you one last smile, excited to get home and plan a date so she can finally prove how much she wants you.

——————————————————————————

Part 2 where Yunjin experiences growth and earns your trust back and is the best gf ever???

[vevobly]

Yellowjackets Friends With Benefits Headcanons! [Pre-crash] (1)

A/N: I wrote this with female reader in mind, so I apologize in advance for those who wanted it to be vague and up to your interpretation! This is sort of an AU since Jeff is Jackie's ex here.

Jackie Taylor:

Aside from the fact that Jeff was terrible in bed, Jackie would absolutely love the arrangement you two have. Unlike him, you actually manage to make her feel the real thing. Honestly, If it weren't for the fact you're a girl, Jackie might have just dated you instead. Still, that doesn't stop the golden girl from feeling something for you. You treat her better than Jeff or any of the other guys she's dated ever did. And you're not even her lover—just a friend she hooks up with from time to time!

To Jackie, it’s all just a game where she holds the upper hand. To her, it’s casual—nothing more, nothing less. Until it isn’t, and she finds herself craving more than what you both agreed to initially. She starts flirting with you constantly, literally flaring up with jealousy anytime someone else so much as looks at you. You're practically hers with how glued she is to your side. Despite the boundaries you set up, Jackie wants you guys together. She wants something official, something real.

"So, are you seeing anyone else? Not that I care or anything, just curious."

Shauna Shipman:

All is well until it isn't. Shauna doesn't know when or how it happened, but she fell for you. While she DID agree to keep things casual with you, she's quickly regretting it after discovering she wants more than what this stupid arrangement you guys have with each other originally entailed. Jackie never really looked at her the way you did, and let's be honest—Jeff only looked at her when she didn't look at him. But you? You, on the other hand, look at her and actually see her for her.

It’s no surprise to Shauna that she fell for you. You are you. And while she does try her best to keep things as they are, she can't help but wonder. Did you want more with her or was she just reading too much into it? Shauna doesn't know what to do. She's trying everything to separate her feelings from you and the arrangement you guys have, but it's not working. Shauna wants you, she wants all of you to her.

"I mean, it's fine if it's just fun. Totally fine."

Taissa Turner:

Tai really prides herself on her self-control. So imagine her utter surprise with herself when she realized she wanted more than the things you guys agreed on in your arrangement. Baffled, even more so with the context of your relationship with each other. Immediately, she's putting her feelings for you to the side. What you guys have is an arrangement, something mutually beneficial to both of you. It's that, and nothing else more.

But dammit, the heart wants what it wants. And while Tai does want you, she's not gonna go ahead and push her own desires onto you. Not unless you wanted to, of course. Tai is very respectful towards the boundaries you guys set up, but that doesn't stop her from being protective of you. Protectiveness, which starts being a little more like possessiveness over time, especially when someone else than her hopes to catch your attention.

"As long as we’re both on the same page, this can work. But if it gets complicated, let’s talk."

Van Palmer:

Van, out of all the girls, would be the most laid back about it. Sure, she'd love to be more than what you are now, but she's going to push unless you want that too. That doesn't mean it's easy for her though, especially when you're doing things far beyond what friends should typically do. She can't help but want more than just to be your friend. Still, Van refuses to make things messier by letting her feelings complicate the situation. She'd rather keep things as they are than lose you.

To cope with her whole situationship with you, Van jokes every once in a while about your arrangement with each other. And while she says it with laughter usually, you can't help but feel like there's a sad undertone to it. Yeah, she's all big smiles and laughing about it, but there's always this sad look in her eyes when she jokes about what you guys have. What she is to you, and what you are to her. But you don't know, maybe you're just reading too much into it.

"So, what do we call this? Friends with benefits? Or... close gal pals?"

Natalie Scatorccio:

Natalie fully knows that what you guys have is an arrangement, a deal you both agreed on for your own benefit. Yet, she can't help thinking about it as more than just that. Yeah, she acts like the whole thing doesn't mean much jackshit to her, but deep down? It means more than anything. Nat wouldn't fully admit to herself, much less to anyone else, but despite the fact you both aren't dating each other. Hooking up with someone else than you feels like cheating on you.

It's those kinds of thoughts that make Natalie come to a realization of what exactly she feels for you—love. Fuck, as if life hasn't screwed her too much already, she just had to go ahead and fall for you. She tries everything she can to keep things the same but fails. When she can't do that, she starts doing her moves. It's all subtle to her, at least. But others? No. Natalie does anything for you without a second thought, she doesn't expect you to return the favor but still.. she's hoping.

"We're just having fun, right? No need to overthink it."

Lottie Matthews:

Although Lottie did agree on this whole arrangement with you, it hasn't been doing much other than causing a real stir within her. Yes, this whole thing is meant to be casual. And it is casual. For you, at least. For Lottie? It isn't. Despite the whole fuss you guys made about not doing anything with each other outside of this—Lottie wants to kiss you, she wants to hold your hand, whisper sweet nothings to your ears, and explore your body with love. Not lust, or for pleasure.

Lottie is aware of what she feels for you quickly. And at first, she thinks about breaking it up with you. But Lottie wants you, she needs you. And so, instead of doing that, she decides to keep up this arrangement with you. Whether it's intentional or not, Lottie starts dragging intimate things into what you guys have. She takes you out for dinner, you guys talk for hours, until she's taking you home then kissing you goodbye on the cheek—it's those that bring Lottie to realize she loves you.

“I'm okay with this. I'm okay with you, and I'm okay.. with us.”

Laura Lee:

Laura Lee feels torn about what’s going on between you two—not because you’re a girl. No, that's never been an issue for her. But because to her, sex is something sacred and this feels like it goes against everything she believes in. Still, her feelings for you are so strong that she convinces herself it doesn’t matter. It works for a while. Things between you seem perfect, until you're leaning in to kiss her and she finds herself wanting you. No, needing you wholly. Kissing you softly for an eternity.

Laura Lee is lost as to what she should do. So she does what she does best when she's lost, she prays. She asks for guidance about this arrangement you guys have with each other, hoping for some clarity on whether this whole thing that you both agreed and went fully board on with was a good choice or not in the end. Like the rest of the girls, she tries her best to keep it as the way it is. But it's hard to do that when you're looking at her like she put the stars up in the skies, and made the world shine much brighter at night.

“I just think we should… talk about where this is going. For both of our sakes.”

Misty Quigley:

Misty would throw herself into this arrangement with you in full enthusiasm. Depending on how much she valued and liked you, she would see this whole thing you guys got on going as some sort of sign about how close you guys are to one another and so. And knowing Misty? You bet your ass that this girl will have trouble keeping things casual with you because despite what you guys agreed on and what she said in response to it, she's growing increasingly attached to you.

Misty being Misty would go above and beyond just to please you. Crossing a bunch of your boundaries from every once in a while just because of it and her own eagerness to keep you close around her. Whether you talked to her or not about keeping this whole thing just the way it is and nothing else more, she would still pursue you. The girl will tell you that she's fine with this arrangement going nowhere else while basically contradicting her words by her own very actions.

“I just think we’re really great together, don’t you? Like, we could be even more, but... no pressure!”

[tokyo-1842]

Heyo, could you write a oneshot with Sanji and a reader who he thinks is a man? Reader actually dressed like a man and deepens their voice, they used to do it as a defense mechanism on their home island but they've made it a habit and haven't found the right time to break the news to their friends. Maybe after a rough fight, Reader has very bad injuries and Sanji has to take her to Chopper and realizes Reader is a woman,, you can add whatever storyline you want after that, I'm so sorry my brain ain't braining rn and I really liked your Luffy one shot with the kitsune reader 🫶🏽

(AINT GOTTA TELL ME TWICEEEE)

Sanji x F!Reader

——————————————————————————

Sanji x F!Reader who dresses like a boy!, a little suggestive, reader gets hurt, smallll Angst, THATSS ALL FOLKS.

——————————————————————————

Long ago before joining the Strawhat Pirates. You dressed up as a man to stay safe on your island. Slowly became a habit. It kept you safe from horrible people but over time it just…became a part of you.

That habit affected your life on the seas. You see, the crew had different awareness’s and opinions of your Identity.

Some just didn’t care, like Luffy and Chopper because you’re one of the straw-hats who cares about gender! (Aww). Some knew like Nami and Robin. But one didn’t know at all which was Sanji.

To be frank you didn’t really care and only got a little jealous of the princess treatment the other ladies get from time to time.

Ok you really cared because it wasn’t fair they got ice cream while you’re working your BUTT OFF. But not to the point where it caused you to reveal your self as a woman.

So now all of the unfair treatment brings us to here.

“We are going on a trip with our favorite cool looking ship! Zooming through the seas!” Usopp and Luffy sung together, hold each other’s shoulders. They laughed and made up songs. Making your trip to the market place of the island insufferable. “Ughhhhhh….” You groaned rubbing your face. “Why did I have to come…” you muttered. “Because it’s your guy’s turn to restock! Maybe control your pal Luffy because eventually, we’ll go so hungry the ship will be eaten.”

The cook inhaled smoke from a cigarette and exhaled. “Speaking of restock, we are going to spilt up. First of all” “Sanji.” “Not now Y/N, Usopp and Luffy will get essentials-“ “Sanjiii…” “Me and you will get food-“

“SANJI THEYRE GONE!” You shouted.

…

“shit.”

“Dammit! We can never have a normal day with those two!” Sanji gritted his teeth as you two wandered around a marketplace. “Maybe they are at a food stall.” You said. “They better fucking be or else I’ll-“ “language!” You shouted.

BOOM!

“The marines! Pirates!” A woman shouted as she ran. “Hurry!” A man screamed. Many people ran and stores were being closed.

You and Sanji stood and watched the chaos. “I guess we gotta cut the shopping trip short..ugh..”

“Take their heads DONT let them get away!”A marine officer headed straight for the pair.

The fight was pretty easy. Just when the last few men stood Sanji dropped some items when blocking a hit. “Leave it!” You yelled annoyed. “No way! This is for Nami-Swan!”

He turned around to pick it up, now the cook was in the open and a marine soilder swung.

“SANJI!”

SLICE

Silence fell as you landed on the ground. Sanji turned in horror as he looked at you bloodied body on the floor. “Y/N..”

You were too tired to see what had happened but you know those marines regretted it. Sanji was carrying you back to Chopper. His heart was pounding, thoughts running through is head. The blonde reached Chopper’s infirmary and demanded immediate attention.

Luckily the injuries weren’t that bad and you only passed out from shock. It was a cut right under your chest.(I couldn’t write on your chest bc i felt the pain😭) The crew was relieved, you were told to stay in bed by Chopper since the wound could reopen. Everyone visited then Sanji came in to bring you food last.

“Y/N dinners here.” The cook muttered and place it on the table next to you.

The blankets moved as you stirred awake and sat up, showing the bandages on your body. They covered the upper half of your torso and wrapped nicely around your (tatas🤯)

Sanji jaw dropped as he gawked at your features, eyes going lower and lower. Your eyes, your facial shape, your (melons), your waist. “Y/N-chan, you’re a GIRL!! So HOT!” You blushed, his eyes turned into hearts as he swirled.

“But that means…oh…IM SO SORRY Y/N-SWANN! HOW COULD I TREAT YOU LIKE SUCH A MONSTER IM SO SORRY I ASSUMED YOU WERE A-“ Bonk! “CAN IT MORON!” Nami screamed. “but!-“ Bonk! “Y/N! Are you really ok with him knowing?” The orange hair woman asked concerned. “It’s fine with me…” “I WANNA KNOW WHATS UNDERNEATH!” “shut UP!” Bonk!

After a good beating from the Navigator you were chatting with the cook at around 11pm.

“Say..Y/N swan, why do you dress up as a man? You’re so beautiful this way!” He inquired. “Well, it’s just a habit. I did this a lot for safety in my home island” You answered. “Who could make my precious Y/N swan feel unsafe to the point of hiding her beauty!? I’ll kill-“ “It fine Sanji!” You giggled and he melted into a dumb love sick smile.

“Im so sorry for letting my guard down back there! I should have thought first.” Vinsmoke held your hands and stared into your eyes with sorrow. A gentle hand was placed on his cheek. “It’s ok I mean, im alive aren’t I? That’s all that matters.” He blushed.

“Now I think we should come up with a punishment for Usopp and Luffy for causing this mess right?” You smirked devilishly.

“OH Y/N-SWAN YOUR SO CUTE WHEN YOU MISCHIEVOUS!~~~” The cook yelled at the top of his lungs.

“GET A ROOM!” Zoro shouted from the Crows nest.

“SHUT UP!” Nami screamed.

“FOOD!?” Luffy shrieked.

“SUPPPPERRRRRR!!!!” Franky bellowed.

“This calls for a song YOHOHO!” Brooked howled

“NOOO!!” Nami yelled in anger and disbelief.

——————————————————————————

I WASNT SURE IF U WANTED IT TO BE ACTUALLY DATING LOWKEY SOO- PHEW THAT WAS A LOAD I JUST KEPT ON WRITING AND WRITING TY FOR THE REQUEST ASK AGAIN ANYTIME!!!!

some gifs :)

HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT :3

[helluverse-rewrites]

Rewriting I. M. P.

So let's talk about how I would rewrite the Immediate Murder Professionals, shall we?

The show really tries to gaslight us into thinking they're found family when we hardly see them interact. Vivzie please stop trying to gaslight us :(

👏 Anyways

Blitzø

I don't really have that much to change about Blitzø tbh. He's perfect just the way he is <3

Well, that's a lie but I want to keep the premise the same. Guy who did have people care about him but he keeps pushing them away due to self-hatred is a really interesting concept and I want to work with that. His arc stays relatively the same, where he eventually makes amends with the people he's hurt (or doesn't because you're not obligated to forgive someone who has hurt you) and learns to love himself and all that jazz

With that said, we definitely have to do something with him stalking M&M. I hate how it's portrayed as lighthearted and how Millie doesn't even care that he records their intimate and private moments that are just supposed to be between the two of them. Are we gonna forget that he followed them to Ozzie's?

So he's not stalking them anymore, but he is deeply jealous of the seemingly perfect relationship his two employees have. So when he sees the two being couply in the workplace he tends to lash out and state that whatever happens outside of I. M. P. is their business, but whenever they bring that stuff in the building and on missions, that's a no

In Blitzø eyes, they're rubbing their relationship right in his face and are trying to make him jealous. In the rewrite he also has BPD and ADHD so that kind of contributes to his lashing out, as does his rejection sensitivity. Keep in mind that those things are an explanation, not an excuse

But that stalking thing is kind of the only thing I wanted to fix. I'll get to his relationships with other characters (including a certain owl) in a different post

Millie

Millie is still relatively the same. I wanted to get her and Blitzø out of the way because Moxxie and Loona are the ones I really wanted to change

Yeah, she grew up in Wrath to a very loving family and eventually got hired by Blitzø in the same way as is shown in Ghostfuckers.

I want to keep in her insecurities of being important and only being the brawn of the group and actually have them explored god dammit

Like Blitzø she also has ADHD because I want more neurodivergent characters. She's very much the happy-go-lucky type and doesn't let anything bring her down. The entirety of hell could be on fire and she'd just be like :)

Sorry Millie fans but worry not! For I will eventually be talking about M&M and their dynamic. Which is kind of just me playing a game of who many ship tropes can I fit in here so far I got three

Moxxie

The boy!!! The lad!!!

Moxxie has always been my favorite Helluva characters along with Millie, Octavia, and Striker (favorite Hazbin character being Angel Dust)

So Moxxie, being a child in the mafia, is a very quiet, cold and calculated, and easily annoyed imp. He doesn't talk much and prefers to keep his thoughts to himself most of the time. He likes to use brains instead of the usual desired brawns.

When he first joined I. M. P. he just kept to himself and only spoke when spoken to. You would usually find him organizing or polishing all the weapons. He's never one to express his emotions but a way he found it to be easier is by music. His father had never let him play music or even let him look at a guitar. So he started to get into music ever since he started a new life for himself and even wrote some of his own! Of course he would never show anyone and would rather die than have someone read it, but it's always nice to dream

Since he doesn't really say all that much, I. M. P. (and almost anyone who knows him) hang on to his every word in the rare chance that he does speak, and usually it's the most insightful shit they've ever heard

He does, however, have quite the ego and always thinks he's right, and sometimes he is. But other times he would rather die than admit he was wrong. Mozzie is also quite the know-it-all which ends up annoying other people. If he's mad at you, he'll be extremely passive aggressive and insult you in sign language, but you need to really piss him off if you want him to get confrontational. Which is never

Moxxie is autistic, and uses sign language as a way to communicate when talking is just too hard. He is rather blunt and takes things literally most of the time. He is convinced Millie's family hates him even though Millie thinks they like him more than her (that's not the case but goddam does it feel like that)

Sure, he may seem cold on the outside, but on the inside he's the nicest person you'll ever meet

Loona

First things first, no more fat jokes directed at Moxxie. That man is the skinniest bitch alive. Also no fatphobic undertones either

Instead of being an adult, Loona is in her late teens. She's either sixteen or seventeen in here, but was fourteen when Blitzø adopted her. Yeah, she's been severely abused back at the adoption center so when Blitzø took her home, it took her awhile to open up and become comfortable around

She's not as much as an asshole as in the show, but she still has her angsty teen moments from time to time (which is honestly pretty understandable) if anything she's pretty shy and just likes to stay behind the desk as the receptionist, she feels pretty out of place among the three imps since she doesn't know much about weapons and is the only non-imp in the group

Don't get her wrong, she loves Blitzø and Millie is... alright. But they do tend to be a bit too loud for her taste and she likes it quiet, so she actually found quite a liking to Moxxie after realizing that he almost never talks. So they kind of have a mutual respect for each other

Now let's talk about Loona being bi, in some official art for pride month it shows most of the cast with their sexualities, which includes Loona being bi, which we literally never see, we only see her crush on Vortex and that's it, it kind of feels like the staff just put that in for extra brownie points. So, I think it would be pretty nice if Vortex and Bee was her awakening, it was kind of like Squidward's "OH NO HE'S HOT!!!" but Loona about Bee. Of course since Loona is a teenager in this, it doesn't go anywhere and is mostly just a puppy crush, but she does end up being pretty good friends with the two of them

[sillygoblinantics]

I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE

I’ve held my tongue for too long about my feelings on madhouse but fucking hell!

Unless by some fucking act of arceus or universe hands me the fucking concept art that went into this horrible webcomic- I got room to rip and tear!

This is:

Goblin’s Valid Autopsy of Lily Orchard’s PokéMadhouse

Before we go forward!

Hi. I’m Gobbo or Bri (pick ya poison), I’m a current student at Savannah College of Art and Design (as for campus I ain’t saying nothing) Im working on my bachelors in Animation and minoring in Creative Writing. My Concentration starting as 2d animation later switching it to Story and Concept in animation (back in 2021). I started in 2019 and it’s… 2024 now. Don’t judge me! I’ve been mentored by comic artist, storyboarders and many more in the industry! I’ve taken storyboarding and a plethora of writing classes to have enough qualifications under my belt to properly discuss the shit writing, lacking worldbuilding, disorganized plot hole ridden lore/arcs and horrible inconsistent art. So let’s not waste another moment and dive fucking in!

Story:

I’m not using Lily’s self review tvtropes to cover this. It’s disingenuous ego stroking at full blast.

We follow the highs and lows that are the “will they won’t they” relationship between the stated as sisters, Lily and her Gardevoir, G (yes that’s her fucking name). In a Sunday newspaper comic page esc structure. With bits and pieces of trivia and lore that rarely comes up if not to push and pull sympathy points for lilys self insert as she gets assaulted and violated in physical and mental ways. An arc being called “Violate” and later following the would be time span for gestation of a baby that would then become the labeled cryptid child.

I’m gonna be real there’s no point in reading it because the moment something big happens out of the blue there wasn’t a page missing to explain it which god fucking dammit Lily do I need to give you one of those brainframe sheets or outline templates if you decide to write a story? Because I’ll gladly provide them!

How do you consider yourself a fucking writer at all with your fundamental lack of care for lore and story like- for fucks sake woman it won’t kill you!

Characters

Lily

G

Mikayla

Marah

Bonnie

Mismagius

Other hardly seen or used Pokémon that get thrown away out of nowhere

Countless stolen ocs

And Dr Ponytail (yes that’s the fucking name of one of the “antagonists” and I’ve reread it so many times and found nothing!)

Lily has her “antagonists” being either ex friends or partners or someone who tries to call out bullshit! Fucking hell, the way Lily has g written it’s hard to not see HER AS ONE!

You have all these characters and you neglect so many of them to focus on making your favorite Dollies kiss and scissor or do nothing!

You don’t punish actual rapists either like legit what do you do when your Pokémon who’s been raised like a sister your whole life admits to mindfucking you in a weird soul bond type deal (that you wrote the explanation of yourself), then out of fear swaps dna of a Pokémon of her CRITICALLY ENDANGERED SPECIES can match with to save it with your own dna to baby lock you to staying together, what’s the thing you decide to write?

Case in point: stick an entire cactus up your urethra Lily.

I need a break from this… I’m moving on to the art misdirection.

Lily you are the one commissioning these panels from Mikayla. Meaning you are telling her how to draw these making you the literal art director of this shitty comic!

You want my advice?

USE MODEL SHEETS

Like holy shit. I need to copy paste my spiel about what it is one second:

Make a turnaround for your character(s)!

(Excluding front and back you need to make left and right versions of the rest!)

Front

Back

over-the-shoulder

3/4 view

profile

expression sheets

color pallet reference

(if it’s online/digital rgb if it’s for print it’s cmyk)

include the hexcodes for artists if it’s a small production!

lineup for height and scale for comparison to:

other characters

backgrounds

props

etc.

elements of the world + floor plan in small settings

action poses

hair guide (trust me it’s important)

these are the elements every artist who wants to tell a visual story be it animated or comic always needs:

✨A PITCH BIBLE✨

And Lily, if you’re making any story that is

A. Tied to an existing property

B. Has real world/geopolitical/historic relation

C. Needing a basic understanding to science

Do everyone and yourself a favor

AND DO YOUR FUCKING RESEARCH IN MLA FORMAT INSTEAD OF SOMEONE ELSES OPINIONS AND YOUR ASS OF HOLDING BULLSHIT!

Class

Dismissed

Your homework is to get these books:

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

Okay Alder so I thought of this while studying and I must share (and concentrate, dammit). Anyway I started randomly thinking about TOA but with one of the female goddesses, because I feel like it could be a really interesting exploration of feminism and the lack of autonomy for women and stuff, and I was like "Well which goddess would it be?" and then I was like HERA.

Hear me out. So like idk why exactly it happens, maybe Zeus just got fed up with the fights or something, but anyway Hera is forcibly removed from Olympus and stripped of her powers, turned mortal, etc. She meets Meg, who I feel like she would honestly like a lot, despite being a demigod. I can see her trying to teach Meg manners and how to be a lady and Meg just being like "Nope. I must pursue my destiny of being a chaos gremlin." I would still have her at least try Percy's apartment, because while of course he would tell her to fuck off, I think Sally would have some sympathy and I think they could have a really interesting conversation woman-to-woman, especially as survivors of abusive marriages.

I'm going back and forth between Hera being a middle-aged mortal (because I doesn't really matter to her what she looks like), but I think it would also be really interesting if she was a teenager, because teenage girls have far less power than grown women, and it would be really interesting to have her be the same age as many of Zeus' victims.

Anyway thought?

OKAY. SO. THIS IS ACTUALLY SOMETHING I'VE TALKED ABOUT WITH CHRONIC ON DISCORD. A WHILE AGO.

the main difference is that we were discussing how ToA would go if Apollo was joined by Hera in punishment, and by god it was a god-tier idea. spoiler: the moment they figure out what is going on, they immediately turn on the other and blame them XD

CUE THE FORCED STEPMOTHER-STEPSON "THIS IS OUR GET-ALONG ROADTRIP" ACTION!!!!!!

and even in this version, I do agree that this would be a excellent opportunity to really dig into woman's struggles in today's day and age, and even compare/contrast them with the ancient world's! because let's face it, there were pros and cons in both times. tho i'd say we have more pros nowadays, but that ALSO depends on where you live and all that. very complex but also not if you really try :3

BUT. your mention of Hera & Meg bonding REALLY made me excited because Chronic and I have talked about this too! This would be SUUUUCH an interesting dynamic!! Hera could help boost Meg's self-esteem, not only just helping her feel comfortable in her body when she's wearing more "fancy" clothes (because those are the clothes usually forced onto her by Nero, so Hera helping her essentially "reclaim" them for herself can be Female Empowerment whoop whoop!), but also just by gaining more confidence in herself.

On the flip side, I feel like Meg would be a GREAT person to get Hera to "loosen up" per say. You can't convince me Hera was Stone-Cold her whole life. nuh-uh. and you bet I think Meg could draw that old Hera out from that mask.

not to mention that Hera knows Demeter quite well. that would be an very interesting conversation between her and Meg, especially since Hera may be a bit unsure what to say since Meg was left to suffer under the thumb of an abusive emperor for years without her mother ever knowing. I think Hera might struggle with balancing making Demeter look good (perchance this be an opportunity to dig into Hera's toxic idea of "perfect families"? making them look good even when you really shouldn't?) and being honest with Meg. Even though Hera is a crafty goddess, I don't think she'd be very comfortable with straight-up lying about her family- she values that bond far too much.

Chronic and I discussed this AU as if Hera was in a middle-aged mortal body, mostly so we had that aunt-niece bond with Meg, and stepmom-stepson one with Apollo, but also because of our thoughts on "what would Hera consider to be undesirable in a mortal form?", much like how Apollo was horrified to be in a normal teenage boy body. So we thought "wrinkles, probably. don't even need that many, just a few would probably make her freak out." because she is a god, and is def NOT used to normal things like wrinkles lol there were other ideas too i just can't think of them at the moment lol

I can see teenage Hera working for an AU where it's just her and Meg, or even with Apollo still! It would be extremely funny if at some point, Apollo just turns around on Hera and says, deadpan, "Okay, Mom." to a literal sixteen year old.

not. not to mention. how The Burning Maze could go. explore that Juno-Jason relationship/dynamic. Chronic once suggested that Hera could get seriously injured saving Jason, so there's food for thought >:3

also. can you imagine the Triumvirate's panic when they realize they don't just got one ex-god to deal with. they got two now, and it's the fucking Queen of Olympus herself.

boys i'd start running if i were you mwhahahaahah!!

[wafflexdguy]

In that case,

Please, more V x Reader HC. They’re filling the void all the fanfic sites are refusing to fill

If you need a specific ‘subject’ for them, how about their reactions / emotions when the Reader takes them on the first date?

Murder Drones | V Dating Headcanons

Woah, she's definitely one of the most datable characters of all time.

Her specific reactions to it is one of confusion and the literal definition of "FUUCCCCKKKK YESSSSSSSS!!!!!!", and she won't really make it known. You'll ask her to go on a date to whatever place you want, be that a mall, restaurant (which would be weird, since they can't eat) or whatever, their visible reaction is all the same.

"Sure, whatever."

"...That's it?"

"Did you expect a bigger reaction? And I thought you were more sophisticated than that."

"sHUSH-"

Whenever she isn't around you, she's probably (most likely) panicking about what just happened. You just asked her out on a date, and now she's thrown into this situation where you'd see out of a cliche movie.

What should she wear? What should she say? What does she do? She should just call this whole thing off.

Obviously, she doesn't. Otherwise, we wouldn't have headcanons here besides reactions.

She'd probably go to Lizzy to deal with the dress problem. Lizzy would probably inquire about what the occasion was, and V will just deflect it; just using the excuse of the upcoming prom, or funeral, depending on which episode you're placing yourself in.

She'd probably trust N enough to tell him about your date request, and dammit, he'll do his best to be the best wingman. He'll give advice to V about what she should say, about your interests, all the basic things you'd probably expect from a wingman that actually possibly know what he's doing or saying.

She'd be internally biting her -Non-Existent- fingernails as the day of the date comes upon her, and she might as well have been overheating about it all. Her inner worker drone self is starting to unravel, but she presses on anyway.

Obviously, how the whole date goes about depends on what you're doing.

If you're taking initiative, (I.e flirting, being extroverted, pointing out her blush on her visor that she's trying to desperately wipe away, etc), she's embarrassed. How dare you take lead on being the flirty asshole? That's her job!

Maybe you'll inquire about what she was doing the days before, and she won't mention she was freaking out to N while Uzi was secretly watching from a corner snickering at her. She'll just say that she was 'getting oil, hanging out with Lizzy. The usual.'

If you weren't taking initiative, (I.e being about as blushy as V was, letting her to all of the talking while you were just staring at her, etc) than she'll be a lot more... devious. I don't know how else to explain it.

She'll put her head in her hands while she teases you about being blushy mushy wushy, completely ignoring that she was damn near doing the same thing moments prior.

"Awwww, is somebody embarrassed?"

"You're just as embarrassed as me right now! Shut up!"

"..."

Don't mind that she was sweating bullets, because more than likely she was waiting for you when you were on your way to the agreed spot for the date.

When all is said and done, she'll probably think 'this wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.' Of course, she's going to be kind of patting herself on the back for a job well done.

V probably isn't the best person to go on a date with if you're a worker drone, given her... past with them. Same goes for humans. But she certainly tried her best, whether she was thinking about it or not.

[achbbys000]

BY BLOOD

She’s your mother, but only by blood.

Word count: 1,2k

Genre: verbal violence!au, life lesson

ᴡ ᴀ ʀ ɴ ɪ ɴ ɢ s; slight mention of family!abuse & sexual harassment, mentions of violence, words13+

“You stupid girl!”

The yells of your mother echoed through the apartment as you enter it.

She came out rushing, a phone on her right hand and eyes redder than the devil is, redder than usual. Her hair a mess, clothes torn out in her diminished body and face white, as pale as death.

You watched her as she brisk pace towards you, an expression on her face that you couldn’t quite figure out. There was regret, disappointment, worry…but most of all anger.

Your body, on the other hand felt feeble. You weren’t there mentally, still shocked by the events that happened previously. Too unsteady to stand still, and as your mother’s hand landed on your cheek with force, it made you wonder if coming here was any better than leaving away from him.

“You’ve been away..for god’s know how long, and then I get a phone call that my daughter has been bloody harassed by a man I trusted her to be alone all the damn time?!” She shrieked in an upsetting voice while her tears stained her cheeks, a hand on her forehead as a self-soothing gesture.

Your mother went through a lot. A thing she could never accept and comprehend was her daughter been taken advantage of and been exposed.

Like she didn’t do that to you everyday.

Like she wasn’t the main reason her daughter was being so frail and powerless.

“Y/n…how could you not tell me..?” Sadness overwhelmed her as she took you in her arms.

You stood there with your head still tilled by the hit she gave you not seconds ago. Your features didn’t flinch the slightest, and neither did your body. You let it go away, as your mother always advised you. Unexpressed, gulping down the pain you felt when your mother tighten her hold on you, hearing her cries echoing and filling the void.

You let her be your prop for once only to prevent you from falling. You had no strength to fight.

No strength to cry, to yell.

To say so many unspoken things like; “I would tell my mother but you’re not one.”

And you smiled at the thought…you smiled at the thought of leaving this hell hole of an apartment and life behind.

You felt so trapped and unwanted that some times, it seemed hard to breathe in here with her. Like it would be bad and it would annoy her.

“I’m sorry.” She said, “You hear me…?”

And you heard.

But it was too late for her to be forgiven.

You heard her repeat these words for so long, know it now by heart because you actually believed in them. Believed in her.

You had hoped that one day, she’ll pass through her anger and see the damage she causes.

“How could I be this cruel to my little girl…My love forgive me please.” She pleaded with tears in her eyes.

“I did that.” She fell on her knees with you and broke down in tears, “I fucking hurt you again! I don’t deserve you…I’m so sorry Y/n”

“I know that it hurts, honey, but that’s what happens when you don’t do what I say.”

“If you Ever leave, I’ll die…hm? You don’t want mama dead, right??”

“It will never happen again– I promise, I’m so sorry, so sorry.”

Tears. Pleads. Yells.

They never really ended.

And that was mainly the reason your mother’s tears didn’t affect you anymore.

“Talk to me Y/n!! Say something— a-anything!” She pleaded, searching deep into your eyes…maybe some kind of feelings you didn’t shown for years now.

“Y/N YOU HEAR ME?” She shook your body worryingly so you could look down at her, and as you stare at her face with nothing but dead eyes, not a word was spoken from your lips.

“So that’s what’s going to happen? You’ll stand there, watch me cry while you say nothing?…Talk god dammit!”

She yelled.

It's a little disconcerting how deeply she's looking into your eyes, as if she's searching for something. The intense eye contact only serves to thicken the tension between the two of you as she waits for your answer.

She was your mother, yes— by the name, but not at all by heart. You couldn’t feel the love radiating off of her body when she caressed you like before. That woman didn’t know you at all and it made you let a hollow laugh at the realisation.

The only thing you did was to take her arms off of you. You looked down defeatedly and turned around to the only place you could find a little peace.

Your room.

“Y/n.” She called as she followed you, but you didn’t halt as she expected and step up your pace.

“Where are you going?? You think you can get away that easy?” She called out behind you. “You enjoyed it deeply inside you, didn’t you? Are you that greedy?!”

Finis.

That’s all it took for you to come to a stop.

Your voice barely audible as you choked the words, “You think of me that low?”

Your back was still facing her tremulous self, hiding the harden your face had formed. There are times, when words drill into your skin deeper than any weapon you’ve ever think of. And the repeat of the same mistakes she makes, has you feeling drilled in holes.

An emptiness.

You couldn’t believe what your ears heard.

No. You must have been mistaken.

Been harassed and then blamed for liking it by your own blood?

Past the limits.

“You don’t seem to deny it…”

There was a pause, instant regret in her voice. She knew the things she said was too fucked up to the situation yet she couldn’t help but utter them, not counting the damage it could cause you yet again.

“The least you could do…” You tried not to sound angry, “Is not to talk. Did not wait any better from you anyways.”

And the door closed.

There was once a boy who was very angry. His father, gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper he would have to nail a nail against the fence.

On the first day, the boy had nailed 37 nails to the fence. Over the next few weeks, as he learned to control his anger, the number of nails gradually decreased. He found it easier to keep his cool rather than nail the nails to the fence.

Finally the day came when the boy did not get angry at all. He said it to his father and he told him that now, each time he kept his composure he would have to unpin a nail. The days passed, and the little boy finally told his father that he had removed all the nails.

The father took his son and guide him to the fence. He said, "You've done well, son, but look at the holes in the fence. Never will the fence be the same. When you say things while you're angry, they leave scars like these. You can stab someone and then pull the knife. No matter how many times you apologize, the wound will be there."

The little boy then understood the power words held. He looked at his father regretfully and said, "Father, I hope you can forgive me for the holes I made to you."

"Of course I can," answered his father.

It's not always anger, but your actions in general. There are no "new beginnings" in life. There is no new beginning. Many people forgive easily, but the scars of the past never go away. Be careful of what you say today because sometimes the price isn't worth the reward.

_—_–.

What seems to be something, is far from what it actually may be. We don’t always need words to clarify our sense. Some pictures speak for themselves louder than words do.

Hope you enjoyed!

#firstpost ©𝘈𝘤𝘩𝘣𝘣𝘺𝘴000 𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

What i was hearing while writing this;

[bunji-enthusiast]

If I'm not bothering you then can you make a sonic exe x reader?

Where exe is able to leave and go back into the game anytime he wants and reader isn't scared of him at all after the first time they met

Then during a strong storm (no rain just strong winds and loud thunder) the whole house becomes black and exe tries to use that to his advantage to scare reader, with her famous chase around the house as reader is litting some candles on but of course he fails in scaring them so in the end they just end up cuddling together on the couch for the rest of the night

It's very simple it's just what I have on my mind for now sorry XD

Long Into The Abyss — Sonic.EXE

Note || that’s fine! A very neat idea :>

WC || 1,527

Sypnosis || Your a hard person to scare, he wonders how he can even deal with that. But soon enough he gives up on the idea.

The first time you had met him was the only time you truly were scared of your fluffy blue friend ridden with malice and lust for murder, though it was only upon those originally living in his world he had inflicted it upon. He thought it to be interesting to scare the hell out of you when your poor innocent soul came across his corrupted game.

Watching the way you panicked when trying to look for a way out for Tails was amusing, but when he had finally made his infamous appearance upon the screen. That was more amusing than anything, the way you screamed when he did. 

Now utter confusion just simply fills him when he realizes you aren’t as phased by his antics anymore, not even when he appears outside of the game in your house.

“What the hell?” He muttered when you continued playing various different routes of his game, he intentionally had created them on purpose to see if he could scare you again. Even then every time with your attempts to save Tails, Knuckles and even Eggman; you weren’t scared anymore. Just only cursing when you mess up.

“Dammit.” You curse under your breath when you're on one of the death routes, you kept forgetting about this specific one. 

“No no, no no-” 

The death screen appears, detailing the very specific death of your poor character. You wince in an apologetic manner for putting him through it again. “Sorry, I’m trying my best here.” He then decides to appear right next to you, swirls of glitches and blurriness permeating his arrival.  

“Oh hey!” You said, noticing him from the corner of your eye.

“How are you not afraid?” He interjects in a curious yet amused tone, sincerely he was curious to know how you can maintain such a calm and ready manner even while playing. The demonic hedgehog floats around you from behind, while he was albeit rude and murderous at times, he wasn’t about to break your concentration. 

“I dunno?” You shrug, before adding on, “I got used to it I guess.” He raises a brow, seemingly confused with the answer you gave. But only with humans could they actually answer this way, it would only make sense, he concludes. For a few moments he blinks, giving you an incredulous look nonetheless. 

“I see.”

Then he disappears into the air, leaving you alone in your own company once more. You were actually getting used to the bloody hedgehog, in a way. You wonder if he will come back around at all once again. “Too bad.” You shrug, turning your attention completely back on the game. You wanted to see what else you could find while you still were in the game, you thought he was interesting for even creating more routes.

You know this because you remember them all not being there near the beginning, since your first official meeting with the self-proclaimed god. 

“Alright Knuckles, let's see if I can do a better job with you.” You pause in your gait, feeling a little hopeless for continually failing them multiple times in a row. You wonder if you should just actually stop playing the game altogether, you caused them enough pain. 

‘Am I actually causing them pain? They aren’t even real.’ You thought to yourself, but this wasn’t anything new to you. You often just played games for fun, this one in particular wasn’t any different, even if it was a corrupted game file. 

You didn’t know what to do, but just searched far and wide – as extensively as possible. You grew up with them sort of, they were your childhood imaginary friends. There for you so that you didn’t feel so alone at recess, in school or just anywhere in general. Popularity was not your most dominant trait growing up, especially not now. 

But they were your friends, so was he. 

–

The whole storm threw you completely off guard, you just wanted to go back home. You got yourself caught in the middle of it when you dropped off something at a friend’s, you certainly didn’t expect it least of all during your way back home. But you were close to being there, that was the fortunate part of it. 

“Crap-” A strong wind nearly threw you off course, but you immediately corrected yourself and got back on track. Your house was appearing in view, finally you could pull back into the driveway. 

Once in the driveway, you turned your car off and opened the door, you suddenly got the wind knocked out of you when you left the car. You heaved as you caught your breath, trying your best to close the door then ran straight for the door. Even in the midst of it all, you were surprised that you managed to find your way back in the dark. 

The loud sounds of all the thunder didn’t help you though.

You yelped as another loud sound of crackling thunder resounded in your ears, this certainly by no means was a normal storm. This was a very harsh storm, you had to get inside.

“C-Come on,” You shook in the cold outside, fiddling with your key to unlock the door. It was a struggle that demanded concentration and patience, nothing of which you really had right now. “Sonuva- ugh.” Your lips pursed in tight posterity as you finally succeeded in unlocking the door. 

It made you question why you shouldn’t have just gotten one of those security locks, or even the padlocks would’ve just worked fine and dandy. 

You look around at your familiar house, finding the usual safety and comfort in it. Only problem being, the whole house was smothered in darkness. You could’ve sworn you left at least some lights on, you were aware you usually forget to turn them off before you leave, but they really would help in your predicament right now.

Your feet were light, you creeped around the house as if you were afraid something would suddenly jump out at you from beyond the dark. Sometimes you weren’t afraid of the dark, other times you were very afraid of the damned dark. Something flickered in the corner of your peripherals, causing you to jump. 

It felt like the ligament holding your eyes tightly in their sockets will just fall out from the way they had nearly bulged that far out. 

“Jesus christ-”

Only a few minutes had passed now, successfully lighting a few candles around the house. You definitely felt more comfortable and less afraid now. Suddenly you could hear a few thumps resound from behind you, you looked behind your shoulder to see it was him. 

“RUN.”

You absolutely didn’t need to be told twice, not when he was feeling particularly murderous right now. Dying this young was not on your bucket list, you took off and immediately grabbed the lighter to begin lighting every other candle in the house. 

Still, he had spoken while he chased you, “You're fast! Not bad at all.” You could hear that bone-chilling laugh echo throughout the halls. Still, you didn’t allow yourself to falter. 

NOPE, NOPE, NOPE–

You find yourself at the last candle you could find, and light it. You turn around to see the bloody hedgehog standing behind you, no longer possessing a ‘god-fearing’ appearance. He just looked innocent and rather small compared to you. 

He huffs and sighs, shoulders relenting in defeat. “You're impossible, you little gnat.” At his words, you chuckle and nod, crossing your arms with a tilt of your head, “So I’ve been told, can’t scare me easily with all this light now can you?” You stuck your tongue out when you finished speaking. 

“I suppose not.” He snaps with a very clearly annoyed disposition, legs folding into a crossed sitting position while his elbow laid to rest for him to rest his cheek on the palm of his hand. His other one tapped the end of his knee on his other leg. 

You shot a glare at the demon-possessed hedgehog, “Well don’t be like that, we could just maybe be cuddle buddies instead?”

One of his ears flicker at the possible insinuation in your offer, brows furrowing as he replied, “What kind of a ridiculous demand is that?”

Your head rolls around as if you were trying to bite back some sort of desperation spilling from your words, you inhale, mouth opened as you attempt to speak. Then you close your mouth, lips pursing in a bout of self-defeat. 

He notices this, his ears falling flat as he sighs. Voice glitching with a bout of nervousness, “Get on the couch.”

You let out a squeak of excitement, not having to wait for him to repeat it again you had already made your way there. You patted the cushion seat beside you, wanting not to wait another second. He wonders to himself why he even agreed to this in the first place, he wasn’t like this to anyone else who played his game.

So why do you seem so different? You were just another possibility of a victim.

But he gives in, climbing onto the couch with you.

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Oh these two idiots are both so gone.

Ooh, "creating art is about exploring what you like" is a nice line. So often we put too much into feeling like creativity has to end up with a good product, and less about what it can teach us about ourselves.

I like how this show talks about art. And New is making it so clear here that he does put a part of himself in all of his shows, whatever people might think. Respect.

And we're normalizing taking breaks and that you can't be productive and creative all the time! Fabulous.

We love a queen who makes the most of her background time.

I mean, valid question Peem, but also - pot, kettle, etc, etc.

Oh god, their actual boyfriend era is going to end me.

You know what I really love about this Phum/Peem scene? They're making it clear that mutual attraction is just one piece of the relationship puzzle. But the friendship still needs to be there, the caring when someone is having a bad day, and being there to pick them up. So many BLs gloss over the mutual support part of romantic relationships in favor of the swoony bits, but this is the kind of thing that makes a couple seem likely to actually last.

Also what does it say about BLs that I was so relieved they actually rolled up their pant legs at the pool? (Of course they still end up wet in the end, but it's the principle of the thing!)

Phum is just 100% always thirsty for Peem and I respect it.

Haha, love Q being all "hands off my baby, stat".

And they're communicating so openly! My sweeties.

Omg, omg, Fang trying to teach himself to express tenderness to Tan, I cannot.

Just go slow Fang, or you may kill this man with happiness!

Aaaaaah, not Pun finding a little bird and wanting to help it, going to Chain (of course), AND naming it Penguin.

I am already at lethal levels of cuteness overload, and we haven't even gotten to the FangTan scene yet.

Staawwwp.

Lolol, of course he got sick, he got wet for 30 seconds. But again we get the subversion, we're paying tribute to the sick trope, but not fully engaging! Heh, this show is so fun.

Has anyone else noticed the slight tone shift for Phum when he's talking to Peem? There's a new softness to it and it's adorable.

Toey, no, no crying wolf to your boyfriend!

But the pencil case thing is adorable.

I think the Peem and Q friendship chemistry might be my favorite in the whole show.

Lol, not Peem letting slip he slept with Phum last night!

Beer, you are such a champion. Good wingmanning, while also not excusing Phum's bad behaviors.

Oh, baby Phum being sent away, that's heart-breaking. No wonder he has walls like that.

I am loving these reveals with Fang. He's such an internal character, so we are unpeeling the layers slowly. But seeing how annoyed he is to not be able to reach Tan, and how fast Tan is able to make him smile again, makes it so clear how much he really needs him.

And the way he smiles so big when he thinks no one can see, but goes right back to pouty face with Tan because it gets him the attention he craves...

Whoever dressed Q for this series, I love you.

Phum going from self-doubt to full steam ahead the moment he gets reassurance his feelings are returned is delightful to see.

Omg, domestic Fang and Tan. But also Fang, you can learn to cook other things, y'know?

Lolol, Fang absolutely loves Tan's antics, it's so freaking adorable.

Aou and Boom always frickin bring it, we thank you for your service boys.

Also more trope play! Tan holding Fang down in the cliche way, but Fang still showing agency and not playing the blushing maiden. Perfect.

Ok, I liked the Kluen scene. He's being shown as a real person with a life of his own, he's not just the "rival". And Peem is being more straightforward with him.

Hahaha, Chain short-circuiting more and more as Pun gets closer.

MATT, WHAT THE HELL?! You do not interfere with my crumbs, dammit!!

Omg, not Chain just blurting out that he likes being shipped with Pun.

I love that everyone is shocked by Phum except for Beer, who is just like "yup".

I do typically hate public declarations, but I will let it go here, because the friend group is the key to the whole series.

Also, Pun is drunk again, so Chain better be ready for some biting! Chomp, chomp.

[arcanewhoosh]

Tribulations and Triumphs (Partners in Crime, chapter 7)

This chapter is also posted in AO3 here

3.7k words

Proofread? Y/N

Relevant Tags: Jinx x Reader, Modern AU

After two weeks of radio silence, you and Jinx finally have a chance to talk and hash things out. Meanwhile, the Hex Coil project is given another chance to prove itself.

This was supposed to be a longer chapter but I saw that I was pushing 4k words and I hadn't even started the supposed last scene so there's a section that's alluding to a flashback, but the flashback will be in the next chapter instead, along with the last scene.

Also one of the reasons this took longer is because I had an entirely different scene with Jinx written out. Then about a week ago I randomly realized that the scene didn't feel like it was the sensible route to go with, so I scrapped it and went with the current version. But that also means I might have to write more chapters lol.

In the few seconds between you turning the doorknob and the door itself opening, a flurry of thoughts managed to run through your mind.

Do I apologize first? Will she apologize first? Who's more in the wrong? Wait it's probably me. Dammit. Have I apologized enough? Should I have eased up on the texting maybe?

After all, you spent the better part of the past two weeks being absolutely pathetic chasing after Jinx. You could admit that now, since- mercifully- she was the one who showed up at your door and not the other way around. But now that she was actually at your door, you realize that all those days wanting to talk to her, you hadn't properly thought out what you wanted to say to her--whatever that meant.

Then there was your earlier conversation with Viktor, which spurred the rational, self-respecting part of your brain. The part that told you that Jinx should've discussed the party instead of jumping the gun and surprising you with a room full of people. Some of which you didn't even know.

Why is she here? To talk, obviously. But would she only talk about the party; why she did it? Would she talk your ear off for starting the fight? Would she apologize? You realize quickly that one of the drawbacks of reconnecting with people you haven't spoken with in years, is that you no longer have a solid sense as to what their motives are.

You steel yourself as you open the door, forcing your face to remain impassive.

Flowers are immediately thrust into you face when the door does fully open.

"I'm sorry." Is what greets you from behind the assailing purple flowers.

You blink. "Flowers?"

"… Yeah I don't know either." She shrugs, not out of nonchalance, but from what you can tell, anxiousness, nerves. And just like that, seven words addressed to you, and your resolve is already chipped at the edges.

The both of you stand there for a few moments, Jinx not making a move to enter like she usually does; you not moving aside to let her in. You could count on one hand the number of times Jinx reeled in her usually unfiltered nature. First when you two had met as kids, second when Vi had gotten mad at her for getting paint on her boxing gloves, and third… back during times you'd rather not remember.

"Come on in." You say as you open the door wider and step to the side. She walks in as you mutter a slightly confused thank you for the flowers. She's in the middle of making a comment about Caitlyn once bringing Vi flowers as an apology when she notices the bat resting by the wall. She stops mid-stride and raises an eyebrow at you.

"In my defense, I thought I was gonna get robbed."

Who the hell would knock before robbing someone. You hear her response in your head before she can even say it. That's a lot of snark for someone apologizing, you'd then answer. But she doesn't, and it throws you off just a tiny bit. 

"Yeah, that's fair." Another awkward pause as she waits for you to close the door. "I came here to apologize about the party. It was a bad idea." It was a terrible idea. But you don't say that, of course. Instead, you simply nod and wait for her to continue.

“I can see that it made you really uncomfortable and that’s why you reacted that way. I shouldn’t have assumed that a couple of years and you’d be okay to party or whatever, and that’s on me.”

Is she… following an apology format? She couldn’t be. Surely, self-assured, stubborn, prideful, smart Jinx wouldn’t google how to set up an apology. But then again, it was something you were taught in group therapy back in the day. Who’s to say that she wasn’t taught the same things. She does look sincere, though, if not struggling, absolutely out of her element.

“I feel really shitty about it and… I really want to make it up to you, only if you want, no pressure, take your time with it-" She rubs her hands on her face and lets out a grunt before flopping onto your couch. "God, why is this so hard?”

“Apologizing to me is hard?” You quirk an eyebrow.

She straightens immediately. “No, no of course not. It’s…ugh, stupid Caitlyn and her gentle parenting.” She mutters the last part out, clearly annoyed, but you still catch it. If you weren’t trying so hard to remain stoic, you would've laughed.

"What about Caitlyn?"

"Nothing! I'm-" She stands and walks up to you, for a moment you think she's about to seize your hands. A habit she reacquired and often used when she was trying to reassure you that her latest project was totally safe and wouldn't blow up.

It always blew up.

"I'm just… I had this entire plan on how to do this, and I knew what I was supposed to say, and now." You try to ignore the pang of disappointment in your chest when she stops herself from reaching out to you.

"I messed this up, too." She wraps her arms around herself, eyes downcast. You stop yourself from walking over to her and lifting her chin up.

She sighs for a moment, before continuing. "I really do feel bad about what I did, and I feel worse for running off after."

"And not speaking to me for two weeks." You add, your tone snappy but dulled at the edges. "You could've… I don't know, at least let me know you were okay?" Her head snaps up to look at you, a mix of surprise and confusion on her face.

"Why would you need to know if I was okay?" You scoff and throw your hands up. so much for staying impassive.

"Because I care? Because we spent the better half of the past few months with each other than without?" The confession nets the opposite of the response you were hoping for. You half expected her to be upset about your sarcasm, half expected her to look like she understood what you wanted to convey--I am so fucking sorry about what I did too--but instead she... Looks more confused?

"I started a whole fight and put your family in the hospital, and you’re… you’re not even mad?" Now you're confused, too. "I don’t know what’s worse, you apologizing or you shouting at me.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but quickly closes it again. Her eyes leave yours for a few moments, instead settling to a spot a little to your left. A quirk she has when she's trying to think about what she wants to say.

"But... The party--"

"Was something you should've discussed with me first, and not jumped into, yes." You hold your hand up when you see her about to cut in. "But even I can admit I was way out of line with how I reacted. And then I kept trying to contact you like some creep."

Your attempt at a joke flies over her head, and nets you the opposite of your desired response. "I ghosted you for two weeks, and did this whole party thing; why aren't you mad?" Her voice starts to rise at her question, and you find your temper flaring in response.

"Because I recognize that I screwed up, too? Why the hell would you want me to be mad?"

"Cause you're being too fucking nice!"

"Didn't you come here to apologize? Now you're upset that I wanna resolve this? What's wrong with talking this out like adults?"

Even though you don't know Jinx as well as you used too, her tendency to close herself off and blow up at people when she was too anxious to talk thing out is something that has never changed. You know you should be the more mature one, the one who takes the high road, the calm one. Her face scrunches up in anger.

"Oh, excuse me for being childish, oh righteous one!"

Maybe it was the fact that it was three in the morning, maybe it was the fact that her visit caught you off guard, or maybe you do have a right to be angry, to yell, to ask her What were you thinking? I thought you'd know me better than to bring up a bad memory.

"You know what?" You scoff. "I think I am mad about the party. Because what the fuck were you thinking?" The wrong thing to say, really. But now you're angry, and you find that you don't really care what comes out of your mouth.

"Oh here we go. What were you thinking, Jinx? You should've known better, Jinx." She does a mocking impression of your voice "I'm sorry for trying to do something nice for you--"

"You literally could've talked to me about this first!" Your voice cracks a bit as you shout. You never really did well with verbal confrontations. "It's not rocket science."

Jinx, however, is an expert at it. "Well my bad for thinking you got over it in therapy. Didn't you have that in juvie?"

Oh.

That'll do it.

It takes a few seconds for her to register what she had just said. But you, it hits you the moment the words left her mouth. The immediate ringing in your ears, the heat in your arms that starts creeping down to your hands as your breathing becomes ragged.

Her brows unfurrow, and her eyes widen as--what you hope is--immediate regret washes over her face. The I'm sorry, that was too far, I didn't mean it already one her lips. But it's too late now.

It’s amazing--frighteningly amazing really--that the one person who could convince you to talk at fuck all in the morning; who could wear down the guard you set up for yourself without even trying; make you forgive her so easily—and you’ve already forgiven her for the party, honestly—could single-handedly tear your chest open and rip you apart.

But should you really be surprised?

"Get out." You say through gritted teeth. You turn your face when her eyes try to meet yours.

"Wait-"

"Get. Out." You blink away the tears threatening to fall down your face. You are not going to let her see you cry. "Don't fucking speak to me, again." You turn around and walk over to the door, open in, and wait for her to step through. All the while looking at the wall in front of you.

No words are heard through the quiet hallway of your building as Jinx leaves, only the loud slamming of your apartment door.

Despite having an absolutely shitty week, significant progress had been made with the Hex Coil. Firstly, the Council had agreed to reopen the testing site for Hex Tech, after a lengthy discussion on how you absolutely needed the chambers to run more tests and; how high the return on investment would be if you were able to test successfully and release this to the public during a power crisis. Secondly, after having to redo the schematic diagrams for the Hex Coil--and a little help from an anger-infused work fixation--you were able to figure out how not to blow up the entire setup while activating the gemstone. Now, all you needed was another run through with Jayce and Viktor at the testing chamber.

You’re currently wrapped up in drawing a barely comprehensible graph, occasionally looking over to your computer to confirm that the manual computations you were making matched up with the ones on your screen. Viktor and Jayce were looking over at machine diagnostics, making sure nothing would go wrong with all the hardware that was just replaced.

"Okay, so the simulation didn't blow up the computer, so theoretically, the real thing shouldn't blow up either." You say to yourself as you try to give yourself a pep talk, unaware of Viktor raising an eyebrow at your statement.

“I don’t think the computer’s processing capabilities have anything to do with our test running correctly.” You hear him say. You don’t turn around, too engrossed on the graph you were making.

“Well—I mean I made the simulation so…” You trail off, hoping that Viktor drops the topic. The simulation was pretty well made. You should know, you spent the entire week making it.

“Uhuh.” Is the response you get. You feel an unreasonably heavy hand pat you on the shoulder, which could only mean this was Jayce offering support.

“It’ll be fine, we worked out all the kinks from the first test. If something else goes wrong, we’ll fix it again.” Ever the optimistic, Jayce gives your shoulder a squeeze before returning to his monitors, putting on his protective goggles. “So, are we ready to test this, or what?”

Viktor follows suit, giving you a thumbs up before putting on his goggles. “Diagnostics are good, ready when you are.” He says as he turns a key, and you hear the familiar hum signaling the equipment in the testing chamber coming to life.

Oh so suddenly, your nerves are alight. With the time-consuming distraction of having to set up the Hex Coil reaching its ends, you’re suddenly very, very aware of the weight of the project. A million different scenarios of how things can go wrong suddenly flit though your mind, the events of Progress Day—and unfortunately, the events after—at the forefront.

You make your way towards the observation windows, and see the rods around the main and subcoils start to spin. An update that you deemed needed. It would take the load of the entire set up if you did a warm start with the coils, instead of having everything spring to life at the same time.

A knot forms in your stomach, whether from anticipation, or dread, you're not sure. Between the first test just a few weeks ago, and the expectation of results for this test, everything is suddenly starting to feel very real. As if the past week—three—flew by in an indistinguishable blur.

You shake your head, trying to will away the dread creeping up on you.

You’ll be fine. A voice in your head says. A memory, really, an unwelcome one at that.

What if I won’t be?

I’ll catch you, don’t worry about it.

“Sprout?”

You blink.

Jayce. Jayce is calling from behind you.

You quickly shake your head and put on your headphones and goggles, pretending to now hear Viktor’s Are you alright? And opting to stand near the main unit, putting a hand on the glass casing of the lever. You pull down the mic from your headphones—another new addition that made it easier to communicate while the coil was operating.

“Testing chamber clear?” You start.

“Clear!” You wince slightly as Viktor’s loud, staticky voice comes through the headphones.

“You don’t have to shout anymore, Viktor, we have microphones now!” Jayce’s own voice comes through, albeit at a much more reasonable volume.

“Sorry!” Viktor shouts again.

The moment is ridiculous enough that some of the tension leaves your shoulders, and you allow yourself to let out a chuckle.

“Alright, let’s stay focused here.”

“Sorry.” They both say.

“Main coil?”

“Level.”

“Sub coils?”

“Fully operational!”

Now or never.

“Hex Coil test running in three—“You lift the glass panel.

I’ll catch you!

“Two—“

Promise?

“—One.”

You pull the lever. The humming grows louder, clearly audible despite the protection of the headphones. The light from the gemstone seeps into the observation room, flooding it in blue. All three of you whip your heads to the screen showing the chamber. Sparks of electricity already transferring from the main coil to the sub coils.

"Rectifiers?" Your eyes don’t leave the screen as you ask. The rods on the coils look stable, and there aren't any immediately visible red flags. You hear a cackle of static followed by a They're stable! from Jayce.

You make your way to the observation window. Confident in leaving the main panel after installing kill switches in Jayce and Viktor's stations in case anything went awry.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and lean a bit closer to the glass, only now allowing yourself to take in the beauty of the sight before you. The gemstone is glowing a brilliant blue, casting light across the entire testing chamber. Nothing has blown up yet, and Everything is working and We're fine, we're fine, we're fine.

Then you notice the hum start to go quiet, and the glow of the gemstone start to dull. You push your face up to the glass, before taking off your goggles and headphones to turn around.

Jayce is at your station, holding the lever down, and Viktor is standing beside you--When did he get here? --smiling.

"What--"

"The batteries are already full." Jayce says simply, taking off his headphones, and your jaw drops.

"Batteries that were built to power houses for at least a week. Full in no less than three minutes." Viktor puts a hand on your shoulder and gives you a little shake to get you out of your stupor. You, however, are still stunned.

Three minutes, the coil was already running for three minutes?

"It… It worked?" You say it so quietly that Viktor almost doesn’t hear it. He lets out a soft laugh and pats you on the back.

"Yes, yes I think it did. Looks like your simulation was correct." Jayce makes his way over to the both of you, a huge grin on his face.

"We did it, sprout."

You let out a huff, unable to reply with words. You look back at the gemstone; rods still spinning slowly around it.

"We did it." You finally manage.

"Jayce did just say that." The half condescending tone in Viktor's voice completely flies over your head, as you’re already turning around, putting your hands on the former's shoulders and shaking him--violently, he claims--and jumping up and down. You ignore his pleas for you to stop shaking him. You do, however, take it easy on the jumping on account of his leg.

Jayce joins in, and eventually Viktor relents and celebrates with the both of you; all of you exclaiming celebratory remarks. The occasional variations of, Wait till those snob-nosed councilors see this, and, Hey, easy, my wife's a councilor, being thrown around.

Eventually, you all calm down. You, out of choice, the other two, out of necessity. You make sure to point out that they're getting old, and their old bones can't handle jumping around anymore. Viktor comments that he has a valid reason to on account of his leg, then follows up with a comment about Jayce not doing any cardio at all. You take this as an opportunity walk back over to the observation window while the two bicker.

You don't know why you feel the need to check on the Hex Coil again. Given that it's not going to go anywhere since it's literally bolted to the floor. But you grew up in an environment where good events were immediately followed by catastrophic tragedies. So really, was it such a strange thing to have to check on your several-ton project, just in case it suddenly vanished into thin air?

"Two years." You say to yourself, tapping a finger on the glass. "Two years, and we finally did it." The Hex Coil, predictably, says nothing back to you. But that's okay, it's still there and that's what's important.

You don't notice your two mentors approach you, nor do you see the fond smile on Jayce and Viktor's faces. "No, not two. Eight."

You turn back to him, slightly confused. And Jayce's smile grows.

"Everything you've gone through, every obstacle you had to hurdle through." He nods over to the testing chamber. "Led to that. Look how far you've come."

"You did always say you wanted to change the world." Viktor chimes in. "We're incredibly proud of you."

Maybe it's because you had a really, really, really bad week--month, actually. Maybe it's because the other two are getting sentimental. Or maybe, just maybe, a small part of you didn't think that this was achievable; the washed-up troublemaker junkie, coming up with something like this. Someone you yourself didn’t see as worth any time or compassion. Hell, you barely had any reason to keep going back then, but for some reason, these two jerks standing with you saw potential, and decided to take a chance on you.

They let you crash at their place, made sure you kept clean, stayed out of trouble, gave you space to grow and provided guidance, grounded you. Even when you started a fight and made an entire scene, they still worried about you, first. So unflinching, accepting, supportive. You used to think that you were undeserving of that kind of love, but they even beat that--with kindness--out of you.

And now here you were.

Whatever the cause is, you feel the tears prickle, and your lips purse. You look down, and cover your face with your hand, not wanting them to see you cry. You try to take a steadying breath, but it comes out shaky.

"That's so fucking corny." You choke out.

You hear the both of them laugh, before they wrap their arms around you. Your hand is still covering your face, but you're so very obviously crying.

"We love you too, kid."

Thank you, you want to say, you very much try to say, but it comes out gurgled and incoherent because you're now full-on sobbing. They seem to understand this, however, as they respond with a pat on the back and ruffling of your hair.

When you were younger, you used to dream momentous moments like this as some sort of huge fanfare. There would be applause, a coincidentally gathered crowd around you bearing witness to the greatest achievement of your life so far. Your loved ones on the side, crying tears of joy. Congratulations thrown around by important people; bottles of champagne shaken and their contents sprayed at you.

But here, right now, with the two people who have been your family to close to a decade, it's enough, more than enough.