#mikami x carver

[kboo1999]

Wellllll....this is a damn shit show. Tori is a mess. Sam is a mess. Really girl really? How'd he end up there? Because everyone (all his coworkers & friends) are always hanging out together and he is missing out because of your childish petty ass.

And he HIGH KEY loves Violet...but you know, he can't admit that just yet. lol.

[anhandfulgirl18]

looking into big blue eyes /did it just to hurt me, make me cry

[felicitysmoaksx]

Is It Too Soon to Do This Yet?

After Evan died, Violet swore to never get involved with someone from the CFD ever again. She couldn't go through that instramountable grief if she had to go through that again. Realistically though, she knew there was always some risk. That was just life, but at the very least she could minimize it by not getting involved with someone who risked their life every day. At least that's what she told herself. Until Sam Carver walked into her life with that easy smile and bright eyes.

[timeguardians]

[thestarrynightslover]

Last night I finally managed to watch this week's episodes and, omg, I am loving Carver and Violet more and more!!!

[marvelousgeeks]

In more ways than one, Chicago Fire Season 12, Episode 4, “The Little Things,” is about the small, sneaking details that become bigger than we ever thought possible. We see it in little Julia’s presence; it comes alive in proof form through Severide’s efforts, and it shines with a striking glow in Carver and Violet’s burgeoning relationship. 

The show will always feature far more drama than is necessary, but it continues to remind us of its tremendous warmth in the quiet moments during an episode commendably titled to represent something more significant. There’s still an odd, bittersweet feeling lingering in the air this season, and what that means, only time will tell, but here, we get to breathe a little easier as characters wedding prep and put out fires.

Continue Reading

[timeguardians]

@palaceofmuses

[kboo1999]

and I oooooppppppp!!!! 

Sammy boyyyy wants the text back

[timeguardians]

[felicitysmoaksx]

Hypothetically if I had a Sam/Violet fic idea would anyone wanna read it?

[kboo1999]

How did I miss that Tori had intercepted the text altogether to where Carver didn't know anything about it at all?!?!?! 🤨

Oh Violet. Falling on the sword.

[timeguardians]

[timeguardians]

[timeguardians]

Call Out My Name. I'll Be There

a Chicago Fire one shot: Violet Mikami X Sam Carver

Summary:

In the traumatic aftermath of Hawkin's death, can Violet allow herself to ever free-fall into love again? Is she ready to pursue a romance with a firehouse bombshell?

Will being bold pay off for Sam Carver or will he end up facing rejection.

________________________

Sam Carver is an infernal distraction! Albeit a more smiley, gleeful menace than vengeful viperish sort. There's something alluring about those damnably deep sea-blue eyes. At first their ceaseless fathoms are aloof, a mere temptation, that can easily be glossed over. Then, with a more discerning stare, they become deceptively inviting and hopelessly warm. It is in staring that something occurs to Violet. A thought she desperately wishes to suppress, despite how electrifying it is. He is the wildcard that she never saw coming. A shot at love that she had never truly considered.

Sam, as irredeemable as he feels, can find himself lost. Helplessly tangled in a ball of ceaseless knots. For the first time, in what feels like an eternity, there is a stimulation greater than what the piney taste of alcohol can provide. It's her. His angel of mercy is vivacious, alive like the breath of Spring.

Violet's sheepish glances, the ones she cast in his direction before catching herself and diverting, send his heart into a dizzyingly frantic frenzy. What keeps her pushing away? Was he so undesirable? Had he audibly mentioned something she found appalling?

A pinch of shame coils through Carver as Violet occupies herself once more instead of joining him at his table. In truth, he had chased Cap out of that damnably vacated seat opposite him.

Sam yearned for this shared time with a quieted sense of desperation. This time after shift, when she'd allow tension-riddled lips to unfurl into a glorious grin. A grin she would cast towards him. When she'd sit next to him. For a solitary moment, he could almost pretend to be whole, instead of the fractured soul he knew he was. He feels a deepening ache spiderweb palpably, branching out through his arms till it hits his curling fingers. What had he done? The thought blazes through his mind like a flashover, searing and suffocating.

Carver's presence is tantalizingly magnetic. The minute she enters Molly's, Violet's eyes instantly seek him out amongst the familiar brood of faces. The doleful dark orbs pursue him the way they once had Evan. And then it comes colliding back like a ferocious tidal wave, that crippling, clawing of razor-sharp guilt. Within seconds, her heart is in shredded tatters again. It's shallow thrum becomes agonizing.

How could she ever move on? Violet can't. Not now. If Sam gave her one of his patented empathetic glances, she might melt. She might liquify into his sturdy, capable arms of his. How shameful would that be? For her to put her beloved Evan in the rearview mirror so casually? Wouldn't it be better to shut that wantonly feeling part of her down?

Delving into wedding planning is just the diversion she requires. Hurried are her steps as she moves to leave. A month doesn't leave her with nearly enough time to finish all the things she must as the newly crowned Maid of Honor. She intends to depart from Molly's in order to inspect a place that Cap had recommended for a bachelorette party. She knows Sylvie has incredibly high standards. Standards she can't meet if she's preoccupied with Sam Carver.

"Can we talk?" A masculine voice, so sweet, and so honeyed beckoned. For the inkling of a breath, Violet wished there hadn't been the vaguest semblance of familiarity carried by every syllable. She swallows down a thick sense of dread as she turns, turns to him the object of incessant strife and even more pining.

Violet's exhale grows rigid as he reaches for her. His strong fingers gingerly anchor around her porcelain wrist. "Sure. What is it?" She manages to amble out, her whirling mind taking a few seconds too long to catch up to her mouth.

He laxes his grip as she willingly decides to delay whatever errand had her in such haste. Carver feels his shoulders crumble, just a hair. Her tone was every bit as amicable as it had been at the firehouse and yet, his intestines seem to coldly coil. "Have I," he starts, courage fleeting as his heart begins to drum more fiercely. "Have I said or done something to offend you?" Carver manages to breathlessly blurt out.

Violet recoils slightly. Jilting in the faintest fashion, as if scalded when reaching into an oven to retrieve a snack she forgot was hot. That is nothing in the ballpark of what she had anticipated to hear. "What?" Oh, how silly the questioning word sounded when it landed upon the shell of her ears. Her tongue wets the parched curve of her lip and readies with more intelligible speech when he patiently interjects.

"I feel like I should apologize. I'm just not sure what I'd be apologizing for." Sam manages, his hands raising into a gesture he hopes would be perceived as placating.

"I- I don't understand." Violet murmurs. Her dark brows scrunch together in confusion over the subtle slope of her nose. A part of her perfectly manicured facade crumbles as her eyes met his. His eyes are so turquoise, they engulf her like a readily foaming, Summer Seas. "Is there something you should apologize for?"

He plows his hand through his luxurious brunette stands. Averting his gaze, he attempts to tally up anything that might be misconstrued as rude or awful. "I don't know. It's just, you were ignoring me in there." His head cants towards Molly's door. "I thought I had said something to affront you."

"Like what? Offering to help me in a time of need?" She softly challenges. But then, Violet bristles. The misunderstanding now coming into closer definition. "I-" Her voice quavers as if it lacked solid substance. It was difficult to ignore now that the utterance had fallen precariously from his lips. She had been ignoring him. She had hoped he wouldn't notice."You've done --- done nothing. Believe me." Mikami reiterates, in a tone she prayed was more believable than the last she employed.

"Then what is it?" Sam treads dangerously closer, his tone as careless as a lover's whisper. The space between them closing intimately. Unfurling a clenched hand, he thoughtlessly presses it to her cheek. "Just tell me what I've done. I don't want to feel like we're waking on eggshells." He eagerly prods.

His sudden tender touch catches her off guard so much so that Violet seizes up. Aghast lips part, her eyes readily searching him only to startle at the intensity of his gaze. She'd seen that look from Evan. Was it even fair to consider asking Sam Carver to live in Hawkin's shadows?

It occurs to him to retract the hand pressed to Mikami's cheek. Yet, human contact, as little as it was, only fueled his yearning. Carver gently strokes his thumb along her wonderfully smooth skin. "Do I frighten you?" He asks, dropping his voice into an unintentional silvery sotte-voce.

Her face burns crimson beneath the ghosting of his delicate touch. She wills her clenching jaw to unhinge, to gift him an answer that he deserves. One, preferably, that would not drive him away forever. "No, I- I'm not afraid of you. It's just..." Violet finds herself leaning haphazardly inwards till they are nearly chest to chest.

Carver laughs a bit to expel the nervous energy swelling up inside his form. He once more entreats, "What is it?"

Violet swallows impossibly hard. How could she relate the sheer level of emotion that bathed over her every time he so much as peered in her direction? Ebony lashes flit downwards to grace the globes of her cheeks."I promised myself after ---" she feels her voice hitch, "after Evan, that I would never fall in love again. But you're here and you're making that promise so damn hard to keep! I don't want to end up with my heart broken. Statistically, avoiding the heartbreak is ---"

Her words are smothered under the sudden heat of his lips as they crash with her's. Oh, he knows he ought not to have crossed that line. Controlling his impulses had never been one of his fortes.

All he can think of is how beautiful Violet is under the golden glow of the streetlights as they slowly flitter to life. He makes no urgent effort to withdraw from her space, even if the name of Evan does bring up a pinch of envy. A pinch that seemingly traverses his spine in the amount of time it takes for his next breath to be drawn. He knows she's still burned, still devastated from that loss. He could never hope to compare, he could never even think about trying to replace a man who was so dearly treasured.

"I don't want to replace him, Violet." Sam ventures to express while she is still visibly reeling. "Lord knows I never could." He reminds her. "I just want to take care of you, to help you. I want you to know that it's okay to let somebody in. Anybody. Doesn't have to be me." He adds. His thumb blazes another trail over her skin again.

Violet blinks up at him in bewilderment. The astonishment flooding through her veins wars across all of her suddenly warm features. He just kissed her. Was that real? Had she imagined it? Had she imagined how silky and comforting being kissed by him could be? Her hand gradually unfurls against his chest, she's only half listening as he ambles out his speech. Was this Evan's way of letting her know that it's okay to let go? That she should embrace this new avenue while it was presented. But Carver was a firefighter, a feckless one at that. She's already had to treat him a few times in the back of the ambulance.

Relentless thunder fills her eardrums as her eyes flash back upwards. "I ---" She swallows again, revisiting his offer to help and protect her. It was sweet. Sweet in all the ways she had been longing for. "I'm not sure I'm ready for this." She whispers, afraid the fragile quality of her own voice might ruin whatever kind of moment was transpiring between them.

"Take all the time you need," Sam assures her. "My father used to say the right one is always worth the wait." He relates, allowing himself to be quite open in a way that made him feel vulnerable. "Just know that you can call out my name. I'll be there in a heartbeat. All you have to do is ask." He swallows, his own voice quivering a degree. "On the nights you feel outnumbered, I'll be out there somewhere."

[timeguardians]

@protectxthem

Carver pads toward his front door, pulling his shirt on. He was wearing shorts and a t-shirt and nothing else. He opens his door after peeking out of the peephole. He leans against the doorframe, looking at Violet. He tilts his head a bit. "What's up? Is something wrong?"

HOT DAMNED.

The breath in Vi's throat snares, catching somewhere between flittering butterflies in her lungs and her lips. Her eyes shamelessly devour his form, watching as the muscles slowly disappear beneath his shirt and his shorts.

Is this the SAME Carver who worked with her? Flustered, her cheeks singe a shade of crimson. And it's hard, oh so hard to not look at his fantastic ass in those shorts. "I -- uh-" She starts, feeling all of her nerves starting to waver.

Great. Now, she's a walking, talking, blundering, bundle of nerves. "You-- forgot your phone. I -- uh told Lieutenant Kidd that I'd return to you." His phone is speedily offered in his direction. She swallows down hard, trying to work up the ability to look away, but she can't.

She tuns to leave. But hesitates, trying to find some excuse to stay near him. "Were you -- working out or -- something?"

[timeguardians]

@protectxthem

Who would have thought the tailspin she went spiraling into after Evan's death would have led her here? Here, being wrapped in blankets with Sam Carver? He's undeniably warm, his entire aura just seemed to draw her in, despite her HESITATION. Violet turns more towards him, blankets cocconing her form. For the first time in almost a year, fatigue was not immediately evident behind her eyes. Her limbs no longer held that soreness that comes from insomniatic phases. No, she has finally gotten a fulfulling night of rest.

Violet's porcelain digits curl about his proffered hand and her free hand dances across his bare shoulders, fond remembrance in her gaze. "Do you," and she pauses for fear that the question she is about to ask is a loaded one, "do you really think we're good for each other? O-- or is this just a -- you know?" A hot fling? A one off?

Mikami gingerly pays special attention to the scars left by ravenous flames. They were becoming endearing to her. They made him a survivor. One of the very few in firehouse 51 who knew, knew a taste of what it felt like to be as traumatized as she did.

"I mean," she starts, after a LONG moment of silence, "I feel like I'm getting used to being here with you. I guess, I'm -- I'm afraid of getting my heart broken." Again. Broken again. Two words she can not expel from her already twisted tongue. She confides sheepishly, her fingers subconsciously tightening around his. The problem is, Violet thinks, she may very well be in LOVE with him already. A concept that terrifies her more than excites.