#this somehow makes me nostalgic already

[thormanick]

Looking back on this year's Lantern Rite finale I had some ideas forming that I wanted to share

all these "don't leave Paimon alone" and "you'll be back, right?" and Irminsul rewrites and Traveler being not from Teyvat but Paimon being from there and with "faith will be yours to re-weave"

I begin suspecting that at the end of it all Traveler will need to "mend" the timeline of their travels prior to leaving Teyvat

and well

when you take out one component of equation you need to substitute it with something

and Paimon is right here with us following the same journey this entire time

[fuckyeahyukiharu]

yOU ALL IM LAUGHING SO HARD

The archive is still there too, and all those fans who created works in the past still deserve some attention too, so please check out the archive if you haven't in a while and if you're also missing Tsuritama!!

Also, if you're interested, please check out my YukiHaru A.M.V \o/ (Made a few years back for YukiHarus shared birthdays specifically!)

{All I did was reblog some old gifs I missed to keep blog active, but I'm glad if people still appreciate this blog existing!!!}

(I may also have another A.M.V. or two planned for future years, if I can finish them in decent time!)

[the-king-of-lemons]

,

[mask131]

So... Wicked is coming back in style. And as such I need to make a little informative post.

Because since as early as my arrival onto the Internet, in the distant years of the late 2000s, a lot of people have been treating Wicked as some sort of "official" part of the Oz series. As part of the Oz canon or as THE "original" work everything else derives from (literaly, some people, probably kids, but did believe the MGM movie was made BASED on Wicked...) And as an Oz fan, that bothers me.

[Damn, ever since I watched Coco Peru's videos her voice echoes in my brain each time I say this line.]

So here's a few FACTS for you facts lovers.

The Wicked movie that is coming out right now (I was sold this as a series, turns out it is a movie duology?) is a cinematic adaptation of the stage musical Wicked created by Schwartz and Holzman, the Broadway classic and success of the 2000s (it was created in 2003).

Now, the Wicked musical everybody knows is itself an adaptation - and this fact is not as notorios, somehow? The Wicked musical is the adaptation of a novel released in 1995 by Gregory Maguire, called Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. A very loose and condensed adaptation to say the least - as the Wicked musical is basically a lighter and simplified take on a much darker, brooding and mature tale. Basically fans of the novel have accused the musical of being some sort of honeyed, sugary-sweet, highschool-romance-fanfic-AU, while those who enjoyed the musical and went to see the novel are often shocked at discovering their favorite musical is based on what is basically a "dark and edgy - let's shock them all" take on the Oz lore. (Some do like both however, apparently? But I rarely met them.)

A side-fact which will be relevant later, is that this novel was but the first of a full series of novel Oz wrote about a dark-and-adult fantasy reimagining of the land of Oz - there's Son of a Witch, A Lion Among Men, Out of Oz, and more.

However the real fact I want to point out is that Maguire's novel, from which the musical itself derives, is a "grimmification" (to take back TV Tropes terminology) of the 1939 MGM movie The Wizard of Oz. The movie everybody knows when it comes to Oz, but that everybody forgets is itself the adaptation of a book - the same way people forget the Wicked musical is adapted from a novel. The MGM movie is adapted from L. Frank Baum's famous 1900 classic for children The Wonderful Wizard of Oz - and a quite loose adaptation that reimagines a lot of elements and details.

Now, a lot of people present Maguire's novel as being based/inspired/a revisionist take on Baum's novel... And that's false. Maguire's Wicked novel is clearly dominated by and mainly influenced by the MGM movie, with only a few book elements and details sprinkled on top. Mind you, the sequels Maguire wrote do take more elements, characters and plot points from the various Oz books of Baum... But they stay mostly Maguire's personal fantasy world. Yes, Oz "books" in plural - because that's a fact people tend to not know either... L. Frank Baum didn't just write one book about the Land of Oz. He wrote FOURTEEN of them, an entire series, because it was his most popular sales, and his audience like his editor pressured him to produce more (in fact he got sick of Oz and tried to write other books, but since they failed he was forced to continue Oz novels to survive). Everybody forgot about the Oz series due to the massive success of the starter novel - but it has a lot of very famous sequels, such as The Marvelous Land of Oz or Ozma of Oz (the later was loosely adapted by Disney as the famous 80s nostalgic-cursed movie Return to Oz).

So... To return to my original point. The current Wicked movies are not directly linked in any way to Baum's novel. The Wicked musical was already as "canon" and as "linked" to the MGM movie as 2013's Oz The Great and Powerful by Disney was. As for Maguire's novel, due to its dark, mature, brooding and more complex worldbuilding nature, I can only compare it to the recent attempt at making a "Game of Thrones Oz" through the television series Emerald City.

The Wicked movies coming out are separated from Baum's novel at the fourth degree. Because they are the movie adaptation of a musical adaptation of a novel reinventing a movie adaptation of the original children book.

And I could go even FURTHER if you dare me to and claim the Wicked movies are at the 5TH DEGREE! Because a little-known-fact is that the MGM movie was not a direct adaptation of Baum's novel... But rather took a lot of cues and influence from the massively famous stage-extravaganza of 1902 The Wizard of Oz... A musical adaptation of Baum's novel, created and written by Baum himself, and that was actually more popular than the novel in the pre-World War II America. It was from this enormous Broadway success (my my, how the snake bites its tail - the 1902 Wizard of Oz was the musical Wicked of its time) that, for example, the movie took the idea of the Good Witch of the North killing the sleeping-poppies with snow.

[heartysworld]

Family Tradition || LN4

Lando Norris x Reader

A/N: Honestly, I don't even know where this idea cake from I've been feeling nostalgic recently and I thought back to when I myself watched a wildlife documentary and it made me feel bad for the poor babies. Also please know that this hasn't been proofread yet so it's possible to have a mistake here and there!

Hopefully you enjoy this one, feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated!

W. C.: 1k+

MASTERLIST

"Baby look at him, he's so cute!" You exclaimed, looking at the tiny creature that sat at the palm of your hand.

Next you, Lando was just as smitten with the baby turtle in his hand. You could see the tender look of his eyes as his pointer finger went over the shell of the tiny creature whose fins moved in all possible directions.

" How do you know it's a him? For all we know it could be a she!" Your fiance said with a small laugh.

"Call it female intuition.''

"Okay everyone, it's time to get these little guys back to their natural habitat. On 3, everyone can release their baby turtle and we're going to move back a bit so that they have the space they need to craw towards the water!" One of the men responsible for the release of the baby turtles explained while everyone got ready.

All this began as a silly joke between you and Lando about a year ago when you watched a documentary about sea turtles and the hardship the newly hatched babies face when it's time for them to go into the water.

When Lando came home from the gym to find you crying like a baby in front of the TV he couldn't help but laugh when he heard the reason for your tears.

" Oh baby come here." He said as his arms embraced you in a warm hug, the aroma of his freshly applied cologne invading your senses.

"Look at them! They're so sweet and tint and most of them won't even get a change to feel the water!" You continued, sobbing like a baby. " I wish I could do something to help them." You added just as another sob escaped your mouth.

Your then boyfriend felt bad even though he had to fault for the emotions that you were going through. One of his hands ce up to your cheeks, wiping away the falling tears with a tender touch and followed by a gentle kiss on your temple.

"Look at me, baby. I know that's something we can't prevent. But how about this, one day I promise you that we'll go to one of those palces where they help baby turtles find their way to their home. What do you say?" Lando asked, his chin coming to rest atop your head while you nuzzled your face closer to his chest.

"Really? You'd do that for me?" You asked, your voice a bit unclear due to Lando's sweatshirt being in the way. You felt him nod before both his hands took a gold of your face, making you look him in the eyes.

" I'd do whatever I can to make you happy, baby. You should know this by now. Or should I be worried?" He asked playfully, making you swat at his chest for what he just said.

Ever since that day the topic of doing what he promised always somehow found its way in your conversations. That's also how it came to be Lando's present for you after your engagement. A trip to a resort in Bali, but not just any resort but one that specifically offers the chance for those interested to volunteer on the process of releasing baby turtles in the ocean.

"Come on little guy, it's time to go home." You said as you watched the baby turtle crawl off your hand and slowly start swatting at the sand that surrounded it. Meanwhile Lando watched your expression and the reactions that followed, having already released his baby turtle.

A small tear fell down your check and he wasted no time pulling you close to him go provide you with the comfort you needed during such an emotional moment.

"Don't worry Lan, this time these are happy tears." You murmured close to his chest while his hands caressed your soft hair.

" That's all I need to know,baby. Your happiness is what matters most." He said as he felt a sense of pride bloom inside his chest. He was happy to finally be able to do something he knew would make you truly happy and content. A small thank you for all the support and sacrifices you've made to remain by his side during the time you've been together.

"Maybe we can make this a family tradition. You know...come here one day with our children and do this all over again." He suggested, making a small smile appear on your lips as the thought of him being a father and you a mother, sharing such a precious moment with your family, popped up in your mind.

" I like the way you think baby. I like it a lot." You said, patting his chest as he let out a quiet laugh.

Who would've thought sobbing over a wildlife documentary would lead to the appearance of an unique and memorable family tradition for decades to come.

Feel free to send any requests through my asks!

[azrielbrainrot]

Loose Lips and Big Feelings

Pairing: Band Member!Azriel x College Student!Reader

Description: Azriel gets a little drunk and you take care of him.

Warnings: Alcohol?

Word Count: 2320

Notes: This is a little short but very cute. As always, this is part of the band au but you can read it as a standalone. Also I decided the boys make early Arctic Monkeys type music because imagining Azriel singing 505 sounds delicious. Hope you enjoy!

Band AU Masterlist

The bar was already packed with drunk people by the time you arrived. It was so full you were surprised they even let you in, you had to take a deep breath, readying yourself before diving into the sea of people. Finding Azriel and his friends was going to be harder than you thought, you might have to text him again. The situation was somewhat nostalgic to the first time you set foot in this bar, the same night you met Azriel. It's amazing how much things have changed in a matter of months.

Someone was doing a cover of a song you recognized on stage, it almost made you want to hum along and enjoy it for a bit, but you needed to get to Azriel's table first. You couldn't really see the woman singing on stage aside from her striking ginger hair and blue dress, but her voice was truly amazing. You could definitely understand why everyone was so excited to see her. You'd have to ask Azriel if he knew her, maybe try to see one of her shows properly.

You hadn't actually planned on coming tonight, Azriel and the boys weren't even playing and you'd rather sleep away the week. In fact, an hour ago you had been sitting at your desk hoping to get enough progress on an essay so you could completely free up your Sunday to rest and lay in bed all day. But, when a mildly intoxicated Azriel texted you, asking you to meet up with him at the bar, you couldn't resist the offer.

It's not often he asks you outright to meet him, always so conscious of your hectic schedule and workload, even your recent aversion to social outings. So you couldn't really deny him the one time he actually did. You were also a bit curious to see what had him so excited, his happiness was extremely contagious, and admittedly a bit curious to see what he's like when he's drunk, if your intuition had been right then he was close to wasted when he sent you those texts littered with typos.

He had told you that they were sitting at the table by the big red poster, you were pretty sure you knew which one he meant, but unfortunately it was close to the stage which means it would be difficult to get to it while the performance was happening. You were caught between excuse me’s and apologies when you finally caught sight of familiar broad shoulders and luscious tied back hair.

Even when they're not on stage, they're hard to miss. Cassian is at least a head taller than the crowd, so even when he's sitting down you can always count on finding him. He's the first one to notice you as well, greeting you with a shout of your name, somehow audible over the music, and a big grin, as you keep trying to gently push your way through the crowd to get to them.

You find the three of them tucked into the sofas by the table Azriel told you about. Apparently being one of the performing bands gave you access to the best seats in the bar, you always got stuck with the regular chairs. As you get closer to the table you notice Morrigan and another girl you haven't met before were also present.

“You came,” Morrigan yelled excitedly as soon as you got up to the table. It seems they're all drinking tonight, the table is full of grins and flushed cheeks.

“I did,” you chuckle at the overenthusiastic greetings from everyone at the table. A familiar scarred hand reaches out for yours immediately, tugging on it so you would sit down next to him. It's not missed on you the eyebrows the gesture raises, you've learned that he's not always forthcoming with letting people touch or hold his hands so you're sure they didn't really expect him to do it so easily. They probably didn't know Azriel told you everything either.

The sofas were small so it was a tight fit as you sat down right next to him, having no other option but let your leg comfortably rest on his, the feeling of his rough jeans on your bare skin making you giddy for some reason. His arm comes around your waist straight away so his hand settles on the side of your thigh, pulling you even closer into him.

The gesture makes you look up at him, his face a lot closer than you expected, you could feel his breath hit your skin and if you moved even an inch closer your nose would bump against his. The smile he gives you almost takes your breath away as you let out a soft greeting, “Hi.” You're surprised he even heard you, if you weren't so close to each other he wouldn't have been able to over the music, but he throws the same word back at you, in the same whispered tone you used, as his smile widens, eyes not making any effort to leave yours.

“So this is Azriel's friend,” the girl you haven't met before says, with a tone that suggests she's heard a lot about you. The thought of Azriel or any of the boys telling anyone about you has your heart skipping a beat. Her voice also cuts through the spell you and Azriel seemed to be locked in, finally breaking eye contact with him so you can answer her. But, as you look back to the table, you become more than aware that everyone just witnessed your little moment and the smirks on their faces make it hard to play it off.

“This is Amren. She's our manager,” Rhysand explains before you have to ask, a shit eating grin growing on his face as he takes in the flushed state of yours.

“Nice to meet you,” you try to keep your voice leveled but even to your ears it sounds breathless. You swallow softly and try to move the conversation along as Azriel starts rubbing small circles over your skirt, “You didn't tell me why you're celebrating.”

“Rita just told us she's doubling our performances at the bar,” Azriel explains, a little slur noticeable in his voice.

“Really?” You turn back to him as he nods again with a big grin on his face. He looked really excited to share the news with you.

“She's giving us a raise too,” Cass adds, and then looks back at his mostly empty cup and then at your empty hand, “We need to get you a drink.” You stop him before he can get up. “I think I'll be the responsible one tonight and stay sober.” The disappointed reactions around the table make you laugh but also accept that you'd be the babysitter tonight, they were all bordering on wasted already.

As the night went on, everyone only got progressively drunker. It seems like since they can't usually drink too much when they have to perform, they took the opportunity that everyone was here to party as much as they could. Even Azriel, who you never really saw drinking, was talking and laughing like you've never really seen him. He's more of a quiet guy most of the time, preferring to listen rather than entertain. It was nice to see him let loose a little.

The bar was getting quieter since the performance had ended a while ago and the big majority of the attendees started filtering out shortly after. The only people that were still around were ones that were as drunk as your present company. You didn't really mind being sober though, Cassian had brought you some sort of juice so you had something to sip on, and as loud as they were, they were easy drunks to deal with.

Amren had left right after the performance ended with a warning not to stay up too late since they had practice tomorrow. You got the sense she wasn't too much of a crowded bar person but she seemed nice enough. After that everyone else seemed to leave one by one, you tried to keep track of them, not wanting them to end up in trouble as drunk as they were, but as you saw Morrigan making out with a pretty girl with long black hair on the dancefloor your worry subsided.

This also left you alone with Azriel, who has been a lot more talkative and touchy than he usually is. At this exact moment, he was telling you a story, that you lost track of about halfway in, and holding one of your hands in between his, as he played with your fingers, twisting and turning the rings you were wearing. He has also not made any move to sit away from you even though you were the only remaining people at the table, your leg really didn't need to be thrown over his. Azriel was a clingy drunk and your cheeks hurt from smiling at the realization.

You were pondering on how to stop him so you could take him home. It was getting really late and you've already gotten almost unreadable texts from everyone saying they left. He had also told you he had work today so he has to be exhausted. But you didn't have the heart as you watched him excitedly continue on with his story.

At some point, he notices you weren't really following along and just stops, tilting his head to the side slightly. Your smile only widens at the sight. “What?”

“You're cute when you're drunk,” you admit.

“I think you're cute all the time,” he retorts without missing a beat, making your face heat up.

You always had a hard time telling yourself to keep your feelings for him platonic, but between the boyish smile, the flirtatious comments and the lingering touches, it was getting close to impossible to achieve today. “And flirty,” you struggle out.

“Only with you.” Cauldron. You really needed to get him to sober up and take him home.

You get up to do just that and within ten minutes, you're out of the bar and waiting for an uber by the same empty parking lot you usually find yourself in when you come out. He's also a pretty obedient drunk it seems. All you had to do was grab his hand and he looked like he was ready to follow you anywhere your heart desired. You were so glad you chose not to drink because your heart was definitely giving you ideas and your brain was the only thing stopping you.

Azriel was still holding onto your hand and you honestly had no intention of letting go of him. You couldn't really take your eyes off him. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were flushed, the low lights of the bar hasn't let you really take in the sight. Some of his hair was sticking to his forehead and that same boyish smile hasn't left his face all night. No one should be allowed to look this good when they're drunk.

“Remember when we met here?” His words were starting to sound a bit clearer, maybe the cold air was helping him sober up a little or he was just getting tired. You think he told you he had work today and it was already late.

“Of course. It only happened a few months ago.”

“Feels like I've known you my whole life,” he says as he looks down at your linked hands, running his thumb softly over your skin.

“We didn't meet here though,” your voice seems to bring him out of his thoughts, his eyes finding yours, “You gave me back my keys when we were still inside.”

His smile turned a little shy at that. “I'm not sure that counts. I was running late and barely said anything,” he says rubbing the back of his neck, “I was beating myself up over it the whole show.”

“I…” you hesitate for a moment, unsure if he'll remember anything come morning. unsure if you'd want him to, “I was having a really bad day when we met, didn't even really want to come out, but I'm really glad I did, even though I got a massive headache out of it. If I hadn't come I wouldn't have met you. And I can't really imagine my life without you now.”

You tighten your hold on his hand and use it to pull him a little closer to you, close enough that you have to crane your neck back to be able to keep looking up into his eyes. “I think you came into my life at the perfect time, Azriel,” you smile up at him.

The emotion that crosses his face is so overbearing it's impossible to miss or confuse for anything else than adoration and… something more, something you've been trying to ignore for far too long. Gods, you really wish he was sober.

He raises his hand to cup your cheek softly, rubbing his thumb over your warm skin. “I think so too, princess,” he whispers, looking at you like he can't believe you're real. You've noticed the nickname only comes out when it's just the two of you and at times like this, when it seems he doesn't even realize he's said it, like he's been holding himself back from doing it regularly.

You could have stayed here, looking up at his beautiful hazel eyes all night, but it doesn't take long for a black car to come to a stop a few feet away from you, effectively pulling you out of your thoughts. You almost forgot you were still outside the bar, still needed to take this big drunk bat home. Taking a step back, you tug on his hand once again, so he can follow you to the car. “Come on, Azzie. We need to get you home.”

taglist: @bookishbroadwaybish @sad-anxious-muffin @mika-no-sekai-blog @starwholistenanddreamsanswered @secretlyhers @evergreenlark @vermillionwinter @anuttellaa @lilah-asteria @tinymarklee @lupinswolfsbanes @therealmoonstone

[cobaltperun]

Darkest Part (6 - Finale) - Like a Bullet

Astrid Deetz x female Reader

Summary: You will never, in life or afterlife, if such a thing exists, meet anyone as infuriating, rage inducing, entitled, or frankly awful, as Astrid fucking Deetz. There isn’t a single thing you’d like more than to never be around her, but as your luck would have it, you just can’t stay away from her.

Masterlist / First part / Previous Part

Word count: 5.3k

-I don't know what it is that you do to me baby, if you knew would you tell that you feel the same way that I do-

A few days following the craziest night of your life you were finally back home in Manhattan. You never thought you would be missing this place. Not that you disliked it, you just never thought you’d get this nostalgic after less than a week. Granted, after everything that happened seeing the old buildings you got so used to felt like the most comforting sight in the world. “Home sweet home,” you said, breathing out a sigh of relief, as you stretched right outside of Lydia's car. They were kind enough to drop you off.

“So eager to get away from me, are you?” Astrid reached out through the window and nudged you slightly with her fist.

“Of course! What did you think? I can't stand being around you, you damn Chihuahua,” you smirked as you said that, at this point you were both just bantering because it came as a second nature to you. To some people it might seem like a genuine argument, but what was going on between you was more of a habit rather than anything, and there was absolutely no malice behind any word you spoke. Still you leaned into the car through the window and took her hand. “The deal remains, right?” you asked with a tiny bit of uncertainty in your voice. “We are meeting on Saturday at eleven in the morning?” that was the plan at the moment, you would meet up in the park go to a café and well, you would see where things go from there.

Astrid squeezed your hand and smiled, reassuring you without a single word. She still spoke up, “Of course, you better impress me, Barnacle.”

You rolled your eyes at that. “Please, you need to earn being impressed,” you replied with a cheeky grin on your face.

Astrid suddenly reached up and pushed a strand of your hair back behind your ear “Oh, do I?

Really?” Lydia must have turned the heating up to the max because it suddenly got really, actually really hot in the car.

“No, of course you don’- wait no, you actually do I changed my mind! You do, you absolutely do,” you pulled away from the car and pointed at her. “Just for that stunt you have to actually earn being impressed, because you’re, well you are- ah, fuck,” your brain just wasn't working. “You’re being you! Yeah, that works, I’m going with that,” and all the while Astrid was laughing her ass off.

Astrid got her laughter under control far too quickly for your liking and gestured for you to come closer, which you did as if drawn in by some spell. She smiled and patted you on the cheek. “Sure, whatever makes you sleep at night, Barnacle.”

You pulled away from her because you just did not deserve to be teased like this. Not when you felt so powerless against her. Why was it easier to deal with Astrid when you were at each other's throats? All the time your thought getting along would make things easier for you, that you already had everything figured out, but no, you were a stuttering mess whose brain constantly failed to deliver a proper response to Astrid’s consistent and tireless efforts to get under your skin.

And the worst thing about it?

She was damn near 100% successful.

No, forget damn near. She was 100% successful.

~X~

You were fucking late and somehow that made you feel like something like this has already happened. It was like you were reliving a day from a while ago, sleeping in, getting ready in a haste, skipping out on breakfast, on a surprisingly sunny November day, and rushing to meet up with someone in a small café in the middle of the park. Only this time you were meeting up with Astrid, instead of with Alex. Huh, their names started with A as well…

Too many coincidences, but you couldn’t think about that right now. You ran through the crowd, narrowly dodging people as you weighed your options. You could jump over the fence and save a couple of minutes, or you could be a civilized human being and take the proper path.

You hated being late too much.

You jumped over the park's fence and ran like hounds of hell were chasing you. Considering everything you went through just a week prior that would actually be tame.

You did not want to be late to your kinda date with Astrid. Hell no! You would not allow that.

And then it happened.

In your haste you didn't pay attention to your surrounding and, honestly you should be surprised it wasn't happening to you more often, you ran into someone and reflexively caught them before they could fall.

"Sorry," you and the person said at the same time and you blinked, looking at Astrid as she regained her balance and held onto your shoulders much longer than necessary. Granted, your hands were on her waist as well and if ignoring that you ran into each other one could be forgiven for mistaking the way you were for an embrace.

But it wasn't that detail that made you freeze.

You suddenly felt like you were transported to the last year, to that day you were meeting up with Alex. To the first time you met Astrid, just like this.

Instead of an apology, what left both of your mouths back then was a simple 'watch where you're going,' even as you were both to blame. Next thing you knew, you met her again at the library and the hate between you properly began.

"Guess neither one of us wanted to be late," Astrid laughed and then she just... hugged you and you pulled her closer, loving how perfect it felt to hug her like this.

"I don't know about you, but I heard first impressions are hard to fix," you whispered in her ear, and she squirmed a bit, she was probably ticklish, and your breath tickled her. That was a theory you'd be testing at a more appropriate time.

"Mhm, Barnacle," she reluctantly pulled away and took your hand, leading you toward the café.

The two of you went inside and somehow you forgot how cozy this place was, it had this rustic feel to it, and it was certified eco-friendly, which was important to Astrid, and to you to be perfectly honest. This was the kind of place you want to one day help create among many, many other things.

Astrid took you to a corner and instead of sitting on the opposite side of you she sat down next to you on the bench so that meant your thighs were nearly touching. The warmth of the fireplace in the middle of the café, the soft music playing, and the dim lighting made this all feel a lot more intimate than you were intending. And it was definitely more intimate than a supposedly definitely friendly date you were on.

The two of you ordered your coffees and then just fell into a comfortable silence, not really sure how to interact with one another when you weren't bantering. It didn’t escape your notice that you didn’t mind being silent with Astrid, it felt comforting, and you had no need to fill the silence. Besides, the somewhat shy smile on Astrid's face told you she didn't mind the silence one bit either.

“So, architecture, right?” she finally broke the silence and you could see that it was something she was curious about for a long time

You cleared your throat, not really used to talking about your passion to anyone other than your mother and Alex and sometimes, though very rarely, Delia while she was still alive. Hell, Astrid probably heard about it from Delia, if the drawing she fixed didn’t give her enough clues. It was actually a relief, that Astrid asked about something you genuinely cared about, it would definitely calm down your nervous heartrate. Or so you hoped. “I've always loved drawing, I guess,” you began, shrugging a bit. “More than that, well, I think that's the most efficient way to changed things on a smaller scale, you know change the everyday living habits and try to counter the climate change like that. Make a small difference one building at a time,” you thought you’d get less nervous, but all of a sudden you weren't exactly confident in your words having never truly expressed them to anyone other than your mom.

Deep down you knew you really wanted to get Astrid’s approval on this. You could only hope Astrid would understand and the smile on her face calmed you down in an instant. She understood, and surprisingly you could see an undeniable admiration in her eyes. And even then, you still felt like she was the one who deserved admiration.

“I think that's amazing,” she replied, actually sounding a bit excited and then it was as if she got self-conscious about it as she looked down at the table. “Sorry, It's kind of weird to be talking like this when we've spent a year at each other's throats, I'm kind of struggling to keep myself from just blurting out things I've been apparently secretly thinking all along,” Astrid confessed with a blush on her face and then, she leaned a bit closer to you, closing the distance as she turned a bit and placed for hand on top of yours. She took a deep breath. “I have admired your talent ever since I saw your drawing for the first time, and Delia did mention we would get along if we just talked. I never realized she was this right.”

This time it was your turn to squeeze her hand in reassurance. “It took some time, but we got here,” you smiled and that seemed to work as she squeezed your hand back. “And come on, whatever you want to say can't be as bad as all the things I blurted out under that truth serum,” you both laughed at the memory of that and listening to Astrid laughing, well, it truly was one of the most beautiful sounds you ever heard. “I could listen to you laughing all day long,” you quickly covered your mouth “Damn it! Am I still under the influence of that thing?!”

“I think it faded, it's just you being a goofball,” Astrid laughed and there was just something in her eyes that pulled you in as you were leaning closer. And you were very much aware she was leaning in as well. “You know there's nothing friendly about this, don't you?” Astrid asked as her breath mixed in with yours, as your lips inched closer with every excruciating second that passed.

“I know,” you whispered and in a burst of reckless disregard for consequences that you really couldn't think of right now, you closed the distance between you and kissed her. And her lips felt like the softest thing your lips ever touched. She kissed you back immediately, her hands reaching and caressing your face and back of your head as she held you closer. You rested your palm, slightly sweaty from the nervousness, on her thigh as your other hand slipped around her to the middle of her back.

Astrid hummed as you ever so slightly deepened the kiss and as you basked in the warmth of her lips and the feeling of her touch on you you realized that this passion you were already feeling was just as strong as the one you felt when you would banter any chance you saw one another.

When you separated out of the need for air, you still remained close, your lips still just slightly touching. “We should have done that a long time ago,” Astrid confessed as she kept you close, committing every touch, every feeling and sensation to memory.

“We really should have,” you replied and pulled back slightly. “So is this, uh, second date, fixing your impression on dating?”

Astrid pecked you on the lips once more. “You know, I think I'll just ignore what happened. I’ll just call that what it really was, a trap. So, it's fair to call this my very first date,” she decided and smiled. “This was my first kiss, just so you know,” she was blushing as she said that.

“Mine too. Both, the date and kiss,” you admitted as well. You felt nervous about the date last night which was probably why you overslept and now you felt dumb for being nervous. This was Astrid! You knew her, even when you were enemies you deep down knew her.

The smile on Astrid’s face widened, and you had no doubt in your mind, a part of her was satisfied with finding out she got your first kiss. “That ghost tried to kiss me, but there was an infuriatingly difficult to get rid of face that popped up in my mind, so I didn't. I couldn't kiss him when I was there thinking about you,” you could see what she was doing, evening things out after all, you did spill your guts because of the truth serum so here she was returning the favor one bit of information after another.

And you were absolutely thankful for it.

~X~

You couldn't remember the last time your apartment was this busy, this all over the place! You've actually been kind of anxious over the past week ever since you basically, and by pure nervous accident, invited Astrid and Lydia over for a dinner, and you've been in that panicked state ever since.

“Mom, can you please just go and lay down?” you pleaded with your mother as she continued cooking preparing yet another dish. “Please! We could feed ten people and it's only the four of us!” you said it, but you were clearly seeing that she was just as nervous as you were.

“What if they don't like something here? There needs to be a backup and the backup for a backup because there's always a chance you make two things someone doesn't like,” yeah she was nervous even more nervous than you.

And that was damn difficult to accomplish!

“That's not going to happen, mom. Even if it does, well if they don't like it they don't like it. Come on, it’s just my girlfriend and her mom coming over!” you cried out, trying to reason with her. Astrid and Lydia would be here in two hours and the kitchen was a mess, and your mom was still cooking and not the soups and main dishes, but the side dishes that you had no way of naming. Where did she even pull all those recipes out of?

“That’s exactly why!” she pointed a wooden spoon at you. “Your girlfriend is coming over, and you've never had a girlfriend before, and you are just two weeks into the relationship,” actually three but you were too embarrassed to tell your mom you got together with Astrid barely ten days after you stopped hating her so you only told her after the third date. “And she's coming over with her mother for dinner, so we can get to know each other, so it's serious and I need to make sure everything is perfect,” with her health she would be bedridden for the next weekend and you really should have just taken them to the restaurant, but no, your mom was too proud for that! She needed to cook food to show off her cooking skills, which she had, she was an amazing cook, but she wasn't healthy enough to do all of this, yet here she was doing exactly that!

“I'm going to start washing the dishes,” at this point there was no use in arguing and you needed to get this mess cleaned up.

Exactly 2 hours later the doorbell rang, and you jumped like you got burnt even though you were tired and sore from everything, but at least the dinner was ready and absolutely perfect.

You opened the doors to see them standing there, with Astrid nervously messing around with the leaf of the rose she was carrying. Why was she like this? This-this- you just wanted to squeeze and hug her and never let her go! Lydia seemed to be quite nervous as well, seeing as she was almost bouncing from one foot to another, so, overall all four of you were just nervous messes and it showed.

Astrid immediately hugged you and that helped. It helped both of you a lot as you just relaxed into the embrace. “This is either going to be a disaster or a great night there won't be an in-between,” Astrid whispered to you as she gave you the rose and you couldn't agree more so you hoped it would be perfect.

“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst?” you whispered back and thanked her for the rose befo turning to greet Lydia as well.

“That smells delicious, did you and your mom make the food?” Lydia asked as you stepped into the apartment.

“Mostly mom, I hate to say this, but cooking isn't my strongest suit,” you admitted sheepishly and placed the rose in an empty vase. You immediately led them right into the dining room because your mom would already be getting the table ready.

“You actually looked cute as a kid,” Astrid commented offhandedly and your eyes widened, there shouldn’t be any photos of you hanging on the walls! They were all in the photo albums so where did she even see that?! And then you saw it too, the picture of you when you were a kid and worst of all it was the most embarrassing one ever taken of you, the one from the Halloween where you were dressed as a pumpkin. “Orange suits you,” Astrid teased and all you could do was glare at your mother who traitorously hung the photo on the wall while you were distracted by everything else that needed to be done.

“I’m going to find some embarrassing photos of you, just you wait,” you grumbled and that suddenly gained you a surprising ally in the battle, as Lydia patted you on the shoulder.

“Oh, I can show you lots of them,” Lydia promised you and maybe this night would be perfect after all, despite the embarrassing start.

“No! You can't!” Astrid tried to intimidate the Lydia into backing down but you were already leaning closer to the woman.

You put your hand up, as if you were about to whisper, but you spoke loud enough for Astrid to clearly hear you. “I would be very, very happy to exchange the embarrassing photos I took of Astrid enjoying the cutest things imaginable when we were at the amusement park for those photos that you just mentioned,” you proposed, much to Lydia’s liking and the two of you shook hands. It was a deal, one that would benefit both of you.

“I've been betrayed,” Astrid dramatically lamented.

“Oh, don't worry, dear we can have our own little exchange,” you froze when you heard your mother saying that.

She did not just suggest that to Astrid!

“Mom!” you cried out, genuinely afraid because not only did your mother have the pictures she was more than willing to share the stories.

“You know, I had to ask Alex what your name was because all she,” your mom pointed at you, “would ever talk about was Chihuahua this, Chihuahua that, ever since the two of you met. She had a crazy crush on you, I'm telling you,” and your mom wasn't paying any attention to your protests and was instead having the time of her life embarrassing you and revealing your secrets.

And the damn Chihuahua was eating it all up.

Like the hungry demon that fed on embarrassment of unfortunate people.

“How about you just sit down and we can eat?” you suggested and pulled the chair out for Astrid to sit down on. And you chose that chair on purpose, because it was the furthest from your mom, so you could do damage control.

Astrid, instead, took one look at the seating plan you had in mind and took the seat next to the one you so carefully chose for her.

“I think your mom and I have a lot to talk about,” Astrid gave you a quick kiss as a consolation for what was about to transpire, and you just stood there, ready to say goodbye to your dignity. At least you could do the same to her and listen to her embarrassing stories from Lydia.

“This means war, Chihuahua,” you promised, but she just grinned.

“My dear Barnacle, whatever you learn won't be half as bad as what I'm about to learn,” she was so sure of that, and to make things even worse, you were sure of that as well. This was, truly, a war you couldn’t even hope to win.

~X~ Five months later ~X~

Astrid’s birthday was quickly approaching and you had the best idea ever! The most fitting gift for her birthday! Nothing, absolutely nothing could have worked as well as the gift you had in mind, and the grin on your face was something you could not suppress even if you wanted to, so here you were working at the library with the most ridiculously happy grin on your face.

If you weren’t in a library you were sure you’d be whistling or singing with how happy you were.

“You're actually a bit scary when you are this happy, you know that?” Alex suddenly commented there was no malice in his voice, he was just stating the fact.

“I figured out the perfect gift for Astrid,” you told him and you just knew that he would have whistled if you weren't in the library.

“I know I keep saying this and I’ll keep saying it for a long time, but I don't know whether it's wild or actually to be expected to see you two together. Last year you were at the each other's throats and now you are girlfriends,” he was right, you and Astrid have been dating for almost half a year now and it just so happened that her birthday was next week. “So, lover girl, what do you have in mind?”

You leaned in and whispered the answer into his ear and his eyes widened almost comically large as he turned to look at you. “No, no, Y/N,” your grin just got even bigger. “No, you can't.”

“Yes I can, yes I will,” there was no talking you out of this, the gift was too perfect!

“I have 3 words for you,” he suddenly got completely serious.

“Yeah?” you were almost worried to hear them, but your mind was set.

“Rest in peace.”

And it didn't matter that you were in the library you laughed your ass off. He was being too dramatic, surely Astrid wouldn't kill you.

Right?

~X~

Lydia couldn't remember the last time she was this at ease. Free from her show, having a healthy, repaired relationship with Astrid and with her dad and Delia occasionally haunting her. Everything was peaceful and quiet as she sipped on her coffee.

"I'll kill you, Barnacle!" Astrid shouted from her room and Lydia barely nearly choked on her coffee. You and Astrid still bantered, but this time Astrid actually sounded serious with that threat.

"Think of all the cleaning!" your half-panicking, half-amused shout came next, and Lydia honestly prayed that you didn't do anything too stupid to get Astrid to banter with you. Actually, she was probably hoping for too much, you had a strange fixation with making each other as annoyed and willing to banter as humanly possible and it went for both of you. She did not want to think about what the outcome of all of that frustration was or would eventually be especially seeing as the two of you would start living together once you started going to college.

You ran down the stairs as fast as humanly possible and jumped over her sofa to hide from Astrid. Well, hide was generous, as you snickered next to Lydia. Really, Astrid only had to come downstairs and she would find you immediately

"Y/N, don't provoke her on her birthday," she lightly chastised you, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't amused. A bit worried and maybe a tad bit concerned but amused, because as annoyed as Astrid would seem during the banter she could see that glimmer in her daughter's eyes. She knew Astrid was having fun even if she wouldn't readily admit it.

"Not my fault she has no sense of humor. The gift is perfect," you whispered, barely holding back from laughing.

Before Lydia could further question you, she heard Astrid running down as well. "Get this demon spawn pretending to be a dog back where it belongs! Right with you in the deepest depths of hell!"

A chihuahua. You got Astrid, a chihuahua.

Lydia laughed as she looked at her daughter. Despite the anger in Astrid's voice the youngest Deetz couldn't resist actually petting the puppy and it somehow seemed to like her which would probably mean that the rest of you were doomed.

“See, she likes you!” you laughed as well and pointed at the Chihuahua.

“Nonsense,” Astrid said but the blush on her face gave away how she actually felt. Lydia remembered how much Astrid wanted a dog as a child and maybe Chihuahua wasn't the first choice her daughter would have made when she was a child, but she would have been happy regardless of the breed. And seeing her with a dog now brought a smile to Lydia's face.

“I guess I have to keep it,” Astrid tried to play it cool, as she looked at the puppy. “I'm going to call you Barnacle, Barny for short so we don't confuse both barnacles,” she said the second part while glaring or at least trying to glare at you as you went and bravely walked over to her and instead of killing you as she promised she would Astrid just lightly kissed you on the lips.

“See, that's perfect,” you pet the puppy only for it to bite you or at least bite you as hard as the puppy could. “See and she hates me just like you did! Truly a perfect gift if I can say so myself,” you pointed out.

The three of you just laughed at that and that's how Astrid got stuck with the dog.

~X~

If a year ago someone approached you and told you that you would no longer be working for Delia because she went and got scammed and died out of embarrassment, yes you were going along with that version of events, and that you would actually be moving in with Astrid as you were getting ready to start college and that you would be together and having a Chihuahua named Barnacle you would have just laughed at them because it would have been the most ridiculous story you ever heard.

But that was a year ago, back when both Delia and Charles were alive and well, back when Astrid was the most annoying, infuriating person you've ever met instead of just being the most annoying, infuriating person you loved and things really were a lot different.

You spent the day unpacking, which was actually kind of nostalgic given packing and unpacking was part of your job while you worked for Delia and now the apartment you and Astrid were renting was pretty much ready for you. Well, aside from the bedroom, that was the last room to deal with. There were some interior design choices to be made but overall the apartment really was perfect.

“Your passion for architecture is paying off, this looks amazing,” Astrid commented as she stepped inside the living room from the kitchen. She was busy unpacking everything meant for the kitchen. All the while you were busy arranging the living room mixing everything that both of you loved. So, now the living room didn’t look like one person's living space, but rather the combination of the two of you.

You snorted and looked at her. “Sure, tease. You know what that'll get you later,” you couldn't hold back a smirk as she blushed. You sat on the sofa and turned the TV on letting it fill in the silence because neither you nor Astrid were all that talkative unless there was a proper conversation to be had.

If one of you got passionate about something, then yeah you were talking and yapping and basically wouldn't stop speaking but otherwise it was fairly quiet with occasional communication done mostly through glances and silent signs.

“What can I say? You are rather fun to tease,” she told you and even though you you weren't looking at her right now you could tell what was on her mind.

"Heh, Chihuahua," you grinned, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. The sofa sinking slightly next to you made your grin widen.

A shiver ran down your spine when you felt a perfect nail gently, almost tantalizingly teasingly, go down your forearm. "Mhm, how about you shut me up then? If it annoys you so much?" Astrid whispered and you swallowed hard. Since when did her voice have such an effect on you? Right. Since you got together.

You turned slightly to look at her. "Now that's just barbaric," you whispered back, only now noticing how close to you she was, mere inches separated your faces, and you had to resist the urge to look at her lips, fearing that glance would be your undoing. You both still had work to do. The bedroom wasn't ready, because you decided that would be a task you would finish together.

Astrid pulled back a bit, but she placed the tip of her finger on the corner of her lips. Fucking chihuahua, knowing exactly what she was doing as you looked down and instinctively leaned closer to her. "I wouldn't mind, if the approach is correct and what I'm saying isn't important," she looked so confident, raising her hand and caressing your cheek before sliding it to the back of your head and pulling you closer.

You stopped resisting and turned, getting on your knees and leaning over her with your palm pressing right next to her head, and you could see in her eyes that she had you exactly where she wanted you. "Everything you say is important," you could feel her breath against your skin as you both leaned closer.

"Even when I annoy you?" she asked, so close now you could feel her lips against yours. She looked so confident. So sure of herself, but the tremble of her hand gave her away. The bedroom would have to wait.

"Especially when you annoy me, just means I should listen more carefully," you closed the traces of the distance left and kissed her, humming at how soft her lips were.

"Mhm, Barnacle," she relaxed, holding you close, hands slipping underneath your shirt.

"Yeah, that's very romantic, Chihuahua," you chuckled, peppering kisses from her ear to her jaw Taking in the sound of her soft breaths as sheep gave him to her needs and desires.

"It is," she laughed, slightly out of breath as you tugged at her shirt and lifted it up a bit "It means you're hard to get rid of, and that's exactly what I want. To be unable to get rid of you for a long, long time," she said and never before did that word sound so sweet.

Taglist: @alexkolax @osnapitzmel1 @bee-keeping @nebthetautora @lololauser

@nwestra @rroyale-109 @gemz5 @social-pomegranate @mirage018

@the-thing-withfeathers @hello-mtf @leafanonsforest @jaxon-nathaniel-drake @niqmandu

Masterlist / First part / Previous Part

A/N: And that's another story complete. I hate to say this, but Astrid really wasn't as inspiring as I hoped she would be, still, I'm satisfied with how the story turned out.

[ghostlychief]

tattooed heart

the one where you ask Ghost about his tattoos

---

You’re lying in bed with your head on Ghost’s chest, able to feel the rise and fall of his breathing as you examine his tattooed arm. Your hands hold up his (surprisingly) heavy arm in order to study the designs more effectively. You’ve been asking him the story behind each tattoo for the past half hour, intrigued by what inspired them. And Ghost has answered you thus far, quelling your wonder in the history behind his now full sleeve. Some have more in-depth stories than others, or are more meaningful to him, but he never fails to answer you earnestly, always giving you a good story behind each one.

You can’t exactly explain what prompted you to sit down (rather lay down) with Ghost to get the details and pick his brain about his sleeve. Maybe you secretly just wanted to run your hand up and down his arm, tracing his tattoos while also being able to feel his solid muscles underneath them, and so therefore you needed an excuse. Maybe you just wanted to feel closer to him somehow, anyway you could, and this is what you came up with that night. Whatever the true reason, you will always look back at this memory fondly, as you spend the night together, learning more about each other.

“Mm what about this one?” You’re pointing at the American traditional skull and snake tattoo on his upper bicep. Ghost chuckles lightly at your pondering, finding it cute that you were so invested in the story behind each and every one of the tattoos on his arm.

“What’s the story behind it?” you ask again. Your fingertip runs gently over the design, tracing the pattern, the action making goosebumps arise on Ghost’s skin. Your soft eyes glance up at him, catching his gaze as well which makes him smile at you. His other arm, that’s not being investigated at the moment, tightens it hold around your shoulders and he lets out a nostalgic sigh before answering you.

“Well to be honest, it was as cover up for another tattoo I got many years ago.”

You let out a hum of understanding before asking, “What was the other tattoo? How bad could it have been for you to get it covered up?”

You and your questions.

Letting out another sigh and with regret coating his voice, he finally answers you. “I lost a dare with my friends and had to get the cliche, heart with ‘mom’ written in it. And obviously that doesn’t really fit the vibe of what I was going for, for my sleeve, so I eventually just got it covered up.” He nonchalantly shrugs after finishing his explanation, subsequently making you shift on his chest.

You prop yourself up a little so you can see him better. “Aww is Simon a mama’s boy?” You have a knowing smile on your lips as you look up at him, and see his eyes roll to heaven and back at your teasing.

“Alright, that’s it. You’re done asking me about my tattoos.” He pulls his arm out of your grasp, although not too roughly, and gently pushes you back onto the bed and rolls on top of you. His arms are on either side of your head propping him up and caging you under him.

“Are you done?” he asks while lowering himself slightly so he can nudge your nose with his, your lips just a hair’s breadth apart.

You close your eyes at his gesture, already forgetting about your questions, your thoughts quickly consumed by Simon being on top of you, being this close to you. You nudge his nose back and hum, “I think I could be, if you can take my mind off of things.”

You open your eyes then and see Simon smirking down at you. “Say no more.”

---

[thisisxli]

Hajime x tooru's twin sister!reader who is bold president of a science club in school headcanons?

OOOOH this is a MUST

Miss the old haikyuu 2020 days fr. And man is this my best work yet trust🙏

Hajime Iwaizumi x Fem!Reader(Tooru's twin)

Rs: Hajime Iwaizumi x Fem!Reader (Tooru's twin sister)

Warnings: ANGST, a little bit of bullying, awkward talks of teenage sex, sexual depictions, suggested themes, nsfw(lasts for a sentence or two), disorder mentioned, implied death

Tags: sad.. Bittersweet, fluff, hajime is so cute, hajime acts soft around reader, childhood friends to lovers, high school sweethearts, old age, marriage, a little smut

Recommended song: (play by the end)

wc: 1.5k

a/n: this made me feel nostalgic and pretty sad to write imo.

How you met/first impressions:

You met each other through your brother, Tooru. Tooru was snarky and keen on keeping his best friend to himself but you were even more petty. When Tooru was distracted on trying to set a ball, you would quickly grab Hajime by the wrist and drag him to your hiding place. Occasionally, it would change because your brother would somehow find it.. always.

To Hajime, you had to be one of the prettiest girls he's ever seen in all of his six years of living. You.. also became his first heartbreak. He proposed to you with a ring pop and you refused. "Pee-yew! I don't wanna marry you, Iwa!" He was left super dejected and sulked until Tooru was forced to distract him to get his mind off things. Ever since then, he was always teasing you and making smart ass remarks at you.

He was a odd boy. What made you like and wanna hang around him like Tooru does was that Hajime was adventurous. He seemed strong too. And you wanted two boys to look up to anyways to treat you like queen so you tried your best to boss both Tooru and Hajime around. You entirely started to acknowledge Hajime when he comforted you after Tooru hit you in the head with a volleyball.

How you start to like each other:

Hajime has always liked you since you were little kids. Obviously. But he made sure it wasn't obvious to you or that you were merely someone he stole answers from for science class. Someone who was just his best friend's twin sister. It wasn't like he was gonna stay like this forever... He just didn't know how to approach you. And he has his doubts. He's basically like Paxton Hall Yoshida only that he didn't sleep around and he wasn't that dumb... He just sucked at science. So he goes to you but he makes fun of you for it.

You realize when some random jock drops all the books in your hands on purpose, laughing and high-fiving with his friends. "stupid- STUPID SHITFACE!" Your shout literally reaches everyone's ears. Including Hajime's.

For some reason, the jock gets offended and goes up to you, chest to chest. Except his chest was much larger and higher than yours. "The fuck d'you say?" You nearly recoil when you feel his hot breath hit your face. "I said-" "betta' keep that mouth shut, sweetheart," he cuts you off immediately, wincing when he shoves you against the lockers. People are already crowding and pulling out their phones. Great. But before anything else happens, the jock is roughly jerked back and lands on his butt. And there stands your prince Charming, Hajime Iwaizumi. You notice that his ears are red. Steams were also practically steaming out of his ears. He stomps his way over to the jock that stood up with a small stutter. "Better keep that mouth shut, hm?" Hajime stares the jock down. Clearly, the boy wasn't going to back down so he scoffs, rolling his sleeves up. The jock's eyes quickly widen and murmur a 'my bad ' and takes his leave along with his friends, a few applauses and cat calls being earned from the crowd.

"You okay?" Hajime barely grasps your fingertips in his, looking at you with concern. Your heart was quite literally about to explode over what just occurred.

How you confess:

The tension was awfully SO obvious.. Matsukawa was frantically complaining about the faint flirting and playful teases. But neither you or Hajime did or said nothing. Matsukawa basically face plants at that but he sorts out a plan with Hanamaki and Tooru. Tooru was almost against it but he did have to admit, he literally knew everything about how the two of you felt. And it was painful to watch you and Hajime, it cringed him out LIKE JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY!!

Tooru had sent you a text that he was already home. So it was just you and Hajime. You both left the school in silence. Started walking in silence. Entering your neighborhood in silence. Before you thought another moment was gonna be filled in silence, he tugs you by the wrist. He confesses and pours out everything he knows and feels about you. How long, when, where, etc. You confess too, a smile adorning your face when he looks away all flustered. You kissed him on the cheek before you went in your house, leaving him alone with a hand on his cheek and a slack jaw.

How you get together:

He was waiting for you outside the door after your club meeting ended. He seemed nervous but you knew what he was trying to get at. So you simply do the job for him. "Wanna be my boyfriend?" He gives you that signature head scratching smile, giving you a nod. You both walk home together that late afternoon, holding hands the whole way.

How you kiss:

They're very sweet and slow. Hajime respects you enough to not over step your boundaries unless you ask of him. He gets very wary when you do. "Are you sure? Are you reaallly sure? I don't know.. Suure? Okay, okay- fine, c'mere."

Sometimes things get heated. The way his tongue glides over yours seems like they almost suggest something. You would smirk against his lips and push yourself on top of him to get him flustered on purpose. Or you would... at least try to pin him against a wall. "(Y-Y/N).. We- we can't yet.. not yet.." This would get you very pouty but he kisses you through it and holds you so you don't catch a fit.

What he loves about you (Adults) :

He loves that you stayed through all this time. He's known you about twenty one years and you both have dated each other for nine years. Obviously when it becomes your tenth anniversary, he's gonna propose.. He just doesn't know how... And he seriously did not mean to wait that long..

He loves to kiss your pulses and your eyelids. He thinks those are really intimate to do and he just really loves that you're alive and breathing.

He loves when wrinkles start to spawn whenever you concentrate. It makes him think he'll grow old with you.

When you're married: he loves it when you cling onto him for life on your honeymoon, screaming his name when you're bouncing on his shaft. 'Give me your babies' you chant. It makes him giggle at the thought.

Awkward discussion with your kids:

One of your kids get a unusual.. and awfully weird offer. Luckily, they came to you both about it for advice and for curiosity. "Why do people have sex?"

Honestly, it was like you were ready for this question but you were unprepared. You knew how high school could be very.. Ratchet. Especially with all the drama, sex, hormones... You were sure things were worse for their generation. But you thoroughly explain and answer with all you can to your child's questions, trying not to cringe halfway.

Your husband was NOT prepared at all. He wasn't ready. He wasn't even really expecting this conversation until LATER. man, he thinks. 'Their generation would really bring us all down.' He stays and tries to answer though.. It's mainly just you talking and you seem completely fine and cool with it which he doesn't understand at all.

After an argument:

Usually, a child sulks and becomes completely depressed when their parents fight but oh no, not your child. Your child absolutely loves to step in between you and Hajime's arguments. Your child was basically the anchor, almost. Keeping you two steady.

Hajime would realize his mistakes and so would you. So you both make up to each other and show each other your love, hugging each other and never letting go, falling asleep in each other's arms once you do.

Who gets Dementia?

You, you do.

It's a sad thing, really. Old age was really hitting you both, you especially. It saddened you both but you both knew it would be okay all as long he was next to you and you were next to him.

It would hurt Hajime whenever you would forget his name and slowly how he looks like. But he never gave up, nor did he ever pressure you into trying to figure out who he was. That's also how you knew that man was someone you loved. Every time you would remember though, everything suddenly became waterworks. You would cry about being young again and experiencing so many things with each other without a problem in the world.

Last moments?

"Hajime?" You murmur, reaching out for his wrinkled hand. He turns to look at you, eyes glossy and sullen looking because of his droopy skin. He rubs his thumb across your hand, kissing your knuckles. "You're beautiful."

You smile warmly, closing your eyes just as you tell him so, "take me to the moon."

Fun Fact:

As young adults, Hajime was suffering without you in California. He immediately made sure you never left his sight when he went back to Japan.

At the ages of 6, Hajime had nursed your scraped knee. When he gave you a Disney Princess band-aid, you kissed his cheek politely and he happily accepted it.

[dragengyrr]

"Lose the jacket"…

More Alastor in dress from this post because I am completely normal about it (I’m not).

@prince-liest : answering previous asks, let’s establish now that if I mention you directly in my posts, you are free to link the art to your fics without asking (after all, it wouldn’t have existed without them). I’m pretty sure I’m not done with them. Cheers <3

Artist’s little side note (because I feel like rambling again): so Hazbin gave me two life improvements (well, three, if you add the music) - one was stepping foot into the unknown aroace territory and being hit on the head with realisation that it was my home all along, making my questionable behaviours and reactions in the past a whole lot less… weird. At least for me, the allos probably still thought I was weird af, but that’s their problem now.

Second improvement was discovering a cartoony style that just sits right with my hand. I’ve always loved cartoons, had a little nostalgic era at the end of high school where I went back to the stuff I’d watched as a kid (Jake Long, Ben 10, Kid vs Kat, Samurai Jack), then I was discovering shows that were made quite recently already as an adult (Over the Garden Wall, Gravity Falls, The Owl House), I loved them for various reasons… but every time I tried to play with their style, I couldn’t get past a few drawings.

I also never truly worked out my own cartoony style, so I thought I’d be stuck with realism for all eternity - which is not bad by any means, it’s just that added pressure of your own artistic ego whispering into your ear that if you misplace one tendon or muscle, or get the proportions wrong, you’ll likely burn down in some special part of hell, specifically for artists that are too lazy to check their anatomy atlas for every single drawing they make. Or maybe that’s just me.

The point is – I don’t remember the last time I produced so many drawings in such a short time, and it’s a blast. And I can focus on posing and emotions more than anything, thus learning new tricks, and it might improve my realistic art as well, right now limited by my fear of it somehow looking incorrect (because that would surely mean the end of the world).

-End of ramble-

[everythingisromant1c]

The First Step

carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary - The first thing you do when you get back to your hometown of Chicago is pay Carmen, your oldest friend and maybe more than that, a visit at The Beef. When you land yourself a job there, the more he sees of you, the more he seems to push you away for reasons he isn't yet brave enough to tell you, even if all he wants is to be with you. But if he'd ever known you, he'd know that you weren't going to back down without a fight.

type - one shot (its a long one)

word count [16.6k]

tags: Carmy Berzatto x f!reader, friends to lovers, pining, slight miscommunication, a little angst, "stop pushing me away", hurt/comfort, and new promises.

warnings: swearing, mentions of grief/death, panic attack

a/n: check this out also on my ao3! <33

Carmen was tired, to say the least. He'd been working himself to the bone every damn day for the past few months, trying to get The Beef to a good, stable place. Somehow, as time went by, he'd only managed to dig himself a deeper grave. With the money they owed to Cicero, he knew, deep down, that the restaurant was, for lack of a better word, fucked.

But he kept holding on. He couldn't let go of it. He'd wonder, in the depths of night, why he was fighting so hard for this place when he could easily sell it to Cicero. If, maybe, he was holding onto someone. He didn't amuse the thought. He physically couldn't.

So he threw himself deeper into his work. Deeper into making The Beef a reputable place, with a professional working staff and high-quality food. It didn't matter that the others looked at him like he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had. He didn't have the time to worry about that. He didn't have time for much of anything, which is why Sydney had been pushing for new hires. She'd said that they needed more hands in the kitchen, more workers up front, more of everything. They should be desperate.

That's why she'd spent hours putting up posters for new hires on what felt like practically every block of Chicago within a mile radius from the restaurant. And that's why you'd happened to stumble upon one of them while walking to a favorite pizza place of yours that you'd loved as a kid. It was one of the first things you'd planned on doing ever since you'd gotten back into the city. That and meeting up with some old friends who you'd missed with an ache in your chest. So, seeing the poster clinging to the utility pole saying that The Beef was hiring had your heart skip a little beat at the prospect of not only getting a job but seeing the people who had basically been your family growing up again.

It was a Friday morning when you'd stopped by The Beef, the rusted white sign sticking out like a sore thumb. A rush of aromas wafted against your nose when you walked in, and the front door made a jingling sound that was almost nostalgic.

No one was at the front register. In fact, you couldn't see anyone at all, only hear some muffled voices coming from the kitchen in the back. The voices grew louder as seconds went by, and you could tell they were shouts. The kitchen door then flew open, finally revealing the argument going on between two people, one being an unfamiliar woman in an apron, and the other being none other than Richie Jerimovich.

"Richie, I swear to God-"

"I already told you," came the booming voice of Richie, neither of them noticing your presence at the door. "Your foo foo plans for this place are not gonna fly, Sweetheart!"

With the way Richie was talking to her, you could see the woman's patience wearing thin as she rested a hand on her temple with shut eyes as he carried on. It was only when she reopened her eyes a few moments later that she noticed your presence.

"Hi," you said, making your way over to her. "I saw your poster, the one about looking for new hires-"

"Right, right." She offered a strained smile, stress seeming to stay with her. "I'm Sydney, you must be one of the job applicants?"

"Yeah, I'm-"

"A job applicant?" Richie's voice boomed through the room, his voice always projecting ten times louder than need be. You had to admit, you missed it. "F that bullshit, that's fucking Mars Bar!"

Sydney's eyebrows lowered at the shouted nickname, the one that the Berzattos had gifted you years ago after your favorite candy as a kid. You granted Richie a smile, him finally noticing you. "Nice to see you too, Richie."

He marched around the counter to engulf you in a bear-like hug that had you letting out a chuckled gasp from the impact, arms wrapping tightly around your back. He let go in a beat and slammed his hands down on the counter in excitement, always loud.

"Just wait till Carmy hears about his favorite girl being back, I swear to God."

Something fluttered through you at the mention of that name. Carmen's name. With a whirlwind of thoughts sifting through your mind, you almost missed the other name that Richie had called you, aside from Mars Bar. Carmy's favorite girl.

-----

Richie had barged into the kitchen with full vigor, slamming open the swinging door dangerously close to a nearby Tina.

"Cousin!" He moved through the different chefs' stations until he got to Carmen's, who was wrapped up in prepping and quite frankly had learned to tune out the sound of Richie's yelling for his own health. "Yo, Cousin!"

Richie boisterously grabbed a hold of Carmen's shoulders, rocking him a little and moving his hand that wielded a knife, cutting diagonally into beef he'd been pre-slicing.

"Shit," Carmen cursed, irritation forming. "What the hell is it, Cousin?"

Richie just laughed, a mind never paid to Carmen's annoyance. "Yea, you're pissed at me now, Carmy, but you're gonna think I'm pulling your dick when I tell you who's at the fucking register right now."

With a forever-present dull headache, Carmen sighed and shifted his focus to him, putting down his knife on the counter. He gestured a hand out to him. "Who's at the register, Rich-"

"The fucking love of your life, that's who!"

Richie gave Carmen a playful punch in the arm, but he remained unphased, a frown etched on his features. "See, what the fuck are you talking about? I don't have a love of my-"

"Two words, Cousin. Mars Bar."

Richie was right. Those two words really did do something to him.

"She- ... she's here?"

He rubbed his jaw, brain short-circuiting for a second as he tried to make sense of Richie's words. His eyes bore into Richie's never-serious ones, trying to grasp onto whether or not he was, just this one time. If he was messing with him, he didn't think he'd be able to take it.

"Yes, bro!" Yelled Richie, patting him on the back. "I swear to you. She's here, and hot as balls, too."

He squinted his eyes at him with a twinge of disgust, slightly shoving him to the side to get towards the door. He still didn't know if he believed it. You'd been traveling abroad on some grant that he, to be honest, didn't know much about. But you were doing great things. He couldn't guess why you'd come back to The Beef, of all places.

When he saw you through the window, he was lucky he was hidden behind the safety of the kitchen door because he couldn't control the way his body and mind froze at the sight of you. He took in the way your smile beamed out into the room as you spoke with Sydney, warm and unignorable, and he could've sworn something changed in the chemical makeup of his brain. Something that had his eyes widening and his feet planted in their place.

"What'd I tell you?" Richie's voice from behind him knocked him out of his trance. There was a smug, amused edge to his voice. "Now go and talk to her."

Carmen put a hand out, shooing him away. "I will. I just," he stopped, trailing off as he took in the way you truly seemed to glow after all the time spent away. He liked how it looked on you.

"Aww, don't tell me you're nervous now, Carm." Richie put his arms on Carmen's shoulders.

"Shut the fuck up." He shoved Richie off of him with a grimace, but his eyes never left you, jaw clenching as he followed your movements. "I'm not."

The pit in his stomach told him otherwise. He ignored the feeling, determined, and took in a breath before opening the kitchen door to the front of the restaurant, to where you stood.

At the sound of the door swinging open you finally turned your attention to him, lips coming to part with a subtle inhale that somehow left you feeling breathless.

"Carmen." You said his name with a grin, eyes lighting up, heart picking up its pace in your chest. You ran over for a quick, thoughtless hug that left his body partly on fire when you pulled away just as fast.

"Mars Bar." He uttered the old nickname endearingly, his voice cracking at the end of his words for some reason. He cleared his throat. "You're uh- you're here. In Chicago."

"Woah," Richie interrupted, coming in from behind, boisterous. "We've got a genius in The Beef, everybody!"

Sydney snorted from somewhere in the distance, but you couldn't even laugh because you'd been too busy staring at the way Carmen ran his hand through his golden hair that had been unruly since you were practically kids and still was.

"Yeah," you breathed, cringing at how awkward your voice sounded to your own ears. "I'm here."

The two of you held onto each other's gazes for a beat too long, scanning over the other wordlessly, taking in the changes that the years apart had brought.

"Well, uh," Carmen started, licking his lip to find strings of coherent words. "Do you wanna come into the office? Catch up?"

You nodded with a pleased tug of your lips. "Yeah, sure Carmen."

He nodded too and led the way, arm delicately resting on your upper back for a second in a way that left his fingertips buzzing, alive.

You entered the room after he did, the desk and walls littered with papers and sticky notes of different colors, an overload to the senses. It was stuffy, even with the door left open.

Before he turned to face you, he clumsily sorted some papers that'd been sitting on a wooden chair into stacks and pushed them onto the highest shelf above his desk so you could sit down, his white t-shirt slightly tugging upwards as he reached. Your eyes subtly followed the movement, eyes glancing steadily over a part of his lower abdomen that you felt alarmed at even sneaking a peak. That and the muscles that showed clearly from the short sleeves of his shirt.

God, you'd only been back in Chicago for a few days and your mind was already doing that thing it always did when you were around Carmen, like it didn't have the ability to think straight or act rationally when he was around.

"So, uh," Carmen started, turning his focus back to being one hundred percent on you. It became hard to concentrate when he did that, because he had the most piercing blue eyes you'd ever seen and you found over the years that they'd always had more than just one emotion swimming around in them. As you looked into them now, you still came up short in identifying them.

"What are you doing back in Chicago?" He looked at you like you were a puzzle, one he couldn't give up on solving. "Did the studies abroad finally start to bore you?"

"Yeah, they did," you joked, looking down at your lap. "Not really much to do in Europe compared to this place, you know?"

Carmen let out a wisp of a laugh, nodding, while also noting somewhere in the back of his mind that this was the first time he'd laughed in at least a few days. Your presence could always do that to him; Put him at ease when nothing else truly could.

"And, of course, I could only go so long being separated from the Berzattos."

He laughed again. That made twice. "Oh yeah?"

You nodded, playful in your words.

"I mean it." You did.

You let a comfortable silence nestle between the two of you, feeling the upward tug of your lips that you could only blame on Carmen. The thought left something alighted in your chest

"Seriously though." You say up a little straighter in your seat. "I guess the real reason I stopped by was because I was wondering if I could help out around here for a little while, now that I'm back home."

At this, the smile that had been resting on Carmen's face began to weaken.

"What?" His forehead creased, eyes dancing across your face with curiosity and disguised panic of his own.

Sensing his change in mood, you hurriedly continued. "I'll be home for a while and, you know, I just figured me getting a job here would be convenient and-"

"No."

You stopped mid-sentence, zeroing in on the man before you. "No?"

He had one hand leaning against the desk, the other's fingertips pressed to his forehead, head cast down, eyes evading yours.

"No, I- I'm sorry, Mars. We're ... we're not hiring right now. We don't need any new workers." At that, you frowned, taking in the tension in Carmen's stance and the tightness in his voice.

"I know The Beef is hiring right now, Carm." You gave him a disbelieving look. "In fact, I got the idea to work here from the flyers Sydney put up everywhere, so don't try and tell me you're not looking for new job applicants." You took a step closer to him, sensing something wrong and confused as to why he would lie, but he only seemed to be growing more agitated, shifting his posture upwards and no longer leaning on the table.

"That was a mistake, alright? I didn't ask her to do that. The Beef is doing perfectly fine, we don't need any extra help." Something sour was rotting in the undertones of his voice, the way he said the word help as if the thought of it was repellent.

"I didn't mean anything by asking. I ... I know you guys are doing fine, probably great even, I was just thinking that maybe I could-"

"We don't need any new fucking hires, Mars." He slammed his hand down on the desk, his tone raising so abruptly that it had you taking a step back in surprise.

When you looked up at him with alarm in your eyes, immediately his eyes began to soften, regret flooding through them. You held his gaze until those same eyes became taken over with this sudden guilt, almost sadness, flickering downwards towards his hands that moved to rest on his office desk, away from you.

You took a second to scan over the desk that was littered with papers and unsigned documents. It wasn't like Carmen to be unorganized, you knew that much. He had to be in a bad place to have his office look like this. Or, rather, Mikey's old office.

The room was a sensory overload, every inch of it a reminder of Mikey. Anyone would go crazy spending their days in here. Especially if that someone had been his little brother.

Carmen rubbed his hands over his face. You took a step next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder that lit aflame from the heat he gave off.

"For what it's worth," you started softly, and Carmen had to fight a shiver at how close your voice was to him. "I miss Mikey too."

He didn't make any movement to turn towards you, his jaw clenched and eyes still staring downwards. He didn't know what made you feel like you had to say that to him. He didn't need to look at you, though, to know you truly meant it.

"You can't work here," he said, his voice sounding defeated and a little far away. "I'm sorry."

Something restless in your heart was determined to make you fight back, figure out why Carmen was refusing you without a good reason. But something else inside of you softened at the way Carmen wouldn't meet your eyes, seeming guilt-stricken, and decided to back down. The hand that had been resting on his shoulder gave him a final squeeze.

You took your leave for the office door without Carmen moving an inch.

"Bye, Carm." Your voice was unfairly soft towards him, even if he felt like he didn't deserve the kindness that thrummed from your heart. "It was nice seeing you." You paused. "I've missed you."

Before he could turn to say goodbye, somehow communicate the 'I've missed you too' that he'd been meaning to express since he'd seen you, you had already turned down the hallway, out of sight. He knew for sure, then, that you didn't deserve that response from him. But he just didn't know how to tell you. How to explain without sounding ridiculous why alarms sounded in his brain at the thought of you working at The Beef.

He'd always known that you were destined for more than just the life you'd shared with him as kids, where you scored straight A's and were one of the top in your class. When you'd left for college while he stayed put, he didn't even let himself miss you, because he'd just wanted what was best for you. And when you furthered your studies even after college, traveling abroad, he knew that was the life you were meant for. To see you stopping all of that to work at The Beef, the place where his brother's dreams had become nothing but dead ends as time went on, wouldn't settle right inside of him.

Worst of all, he had visions of you working in the kitchen, behind the scenes where tensions were constantly overwhelming, of him losing his cool in front of you and you seeing a side of him he tried to keep you far away from. You'd always known the youngest brother Carmy, the world-class chef Carmy, the one who was at his best around you. He couldn't imagine what he would do if suddenly he revealed the Carmy he tried to hide; the Carmy who worked at The Beef, a bundle of unstable frustration who was barely hanging on, the Carmy who still didn't know how to live life without Mikey but who melted from your touch, who wanted more from the girl who'd been at his side for so many years as nothing but a friend, and a great one. He couldn't risk losing that.

Especially not with the condition of The Beef at the moment, which needed his full focus. Having you around would definitely not allow for that. So he convinced himself that this was for your own good. For his own good.

When you rounded the corner back out into the front of the restaurant, Richie was still there behind the counter, holding a phone to his ear.

You smiled at him a little tiredly and silently waved goodbye, walking towards the door.

Richie frowned, removing his focus from the phone call. "Where the hell are you leaving to so fast?" You spun around. "Don't tell me Carmy scared you off already."

You laughed awkwardly and thought of what to say, but must have taken too long to answer because Richie's face was already contorting with an over-the-top grimace.

"What'd that moron say to you, huh?"

You put a hand out, trying to calm him. "Richie, it's nothing, really-"

He was already stalking off towards the office, muttering something about 'killing Carmen'. You shook your head to yourself, because you knew how headstrong both of them were, and turned towards the exit. And, as you finally opened the glass door to leave, you could hear yelling and shouted vulgar words coming from the office. You didn't stay long enough to listen.

You didn't know what to think when it happened. You'd been sitting at home all weekend, alone, and honestly truly bored and wondering if coming back home was the right choice when your phone started ringing. You checked the screen and it was an unknown caller, but boredom had you picking it up anyway.

Mars Bar!

"Hello? Who is this?"

It's me.

"..."

Richie.

"Ohh ... right. How did you get my number again?"

I asked around. Anyways, it doesn't matter. I'm supposed to be telling you that you're gonna start work tomorrow.

"What? Start work? Where?"

At The Beef. C'mon Mars catch up with me here.

"Sorry, I'm just ... confused. Carmen told me you guys weren't hiring and that he couldn't give me a job?"

Oh, that. Don't worry about Carmy. I set that moron straight.

"What are you saying?"

I'm saying, you got the job kid!

"Richie, are you fucking with me right now?"

No! Why does everyone always think I'm fucking with them? I'm fucking serious hon.

"Okay, okay! I ... I believe you. I think."

You better! Carmy is really fucking stoked to have you work here, I mean it.

"He ... he is?"

Sure! So I better see your ass Monday morning, capeesh?

"Y-yea I guess so."

Your heart really should not have fluttered the way it did when Richie told you that Carmen was supposedly excited to see you. He hadn't sounded like it when you'd brought it up to him. In fact, he seemed strangely opposed to the idea, like you'd hit a sensitive area.

You weren't sure if you could really believe Richie. Like you'd always known, Carmen was stubborn as hell. The change of heart was unexpected, to say the least. You didn't know what to think. You still didn't know, as you walked through the front entrance of The Beef the next day, ready to start work. The only person to greet you at the front was Richie, standing behind the counter, per usual.

"Cousin!" He gestured you over. You greeted him back and rounded the corner to stand behind the counter next to him, unused to the feeling after spending years on the other side of it.

Richie spent at most two minutes giving you a rundown of what you'd be doing at The Beef, merely distracted by some yelling in the kitchen. The brief directions consisted mostly of taking orders and ringing a bell. A real challenge.

"Yeah, so that's basically it." He gave you a pat on the back and your front almost hit the counter at the impact.

"No paperwork or formalities or anything?" You were almost suspicious of the fast speed at which this had all happened. Richie whipped his head around like you'd stated something crazy.

"Formalities? C'mon, what are we, the fucking White House? This is a family business, Cousin."

He patted you on the shoulder roughly. "Thanks, Richie," you said, both slightly amused and slightly unnerved. You tapped your fingers on the marble countertop, trying to seem casual. "Where's um ... where's Carmy?"

Richie scratched his head. "He's, uh, he's busy. He'll be out soon. Don't you worry, shortcake." He gave you a wink that you didn't know what to do with and turned back towards the kitchen. You were gonna have to talk to him about those nicknames in the workplace sooner or later.

You called out to him before he left into the kitchen, hesitant. "You're sure Carmen said he wants me to work here, right?"

Your eyes bore into Richie's for a moment, and it was almost like you could see the thoughts in his head visibly swarming about. His shoulder raised. "Well, he didn't exactly say he wanted you to, but anyone with fucking eyes can see that he wants you-"

"Richie!" Your jaw hung open in utter annoyance and bafflement. He frowned at you.

"What?"

You almost scoffed. "Did Carmen really not say it was okay for me to work here?" You looked around, bewildered. "Does he even know I'm here?"

Richie gestured his hands out to you. "Sure he does!"

You could tell just from his tone what your answer was. You put a hand on your hip, shaking your head to yourself. "I'm going in there to talk to him."

"No!" Richie's eyes widened. "No. Just calm down, and I'll talk to him."

You stared at him disbelievingly. He stared back at you challengingly with the confidence only Richie could have. "I'll be back in no time. I know what I'm doing, trust me."

Richie didn't know what he was planning on doing when he opened the door to the kitchen in search of Carmen. He just hoped he wasn't using a knife when he found him.

He turned a few corners before Carmen was in his line of view, hunched over the counter as he worked busily on something Richie couldn't see. He leaned against the counter next to him, watching Carmen as his focus didn't even falter.

"Carm."

He didn't get a reply, just the back of Carmen's head as he focused on reading the piece of paper in front of him, hand braced against the shining surface it lay on.

"Carmy."

The man in question slowly shifted his focus to the man next to him, whose distracting presence had become impossible to ignore. "What? What is it?"

Richie peered down at him. "Promise that you won't get mad."

Carmen's eyes narrowed. "What the hell did you do?"

"Just promise me you won't fucking blow up at me like you always do."

"Why would I promise that if I don't even know what the hell you did?"

Richie tipped his head back exasperatedly. "Just say you promise!"

"I fucking promise! Okay?" Carmen ran a hand through his hair, moving it again to cross his arms. "Now, what is it?"

Richie paused, kicking out his foot and casually peering down at it with feigned interest. "Mars Bar is outside right now. Again."

Carmen's forehead creased and he looked over at Richie with sudden alarm. "What? Why? Is she okay?"

Richie gave him a knowing look, smug for a moment. "Yeah, she's fine." He shrugged. "I just, um, might have given her a job here up at the register."

Carmen's face was unmoving, his tone raising with poorly hidden anger. "You what?"

"And I might've also told her you really wanted her to work here."

Carmen's eyes scanned Richie's sporadically like he couldn't process his words fast enough. "Wh- Why the fuck would you do that? I already told her no-"

"Yeah, and I told her yes. Because you're an idiot and I'm saving your ass. You're welcome!"

Carmen ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly. "For what? Fucking me over?"

"I did not fuck you over, Carm, I'm doing this for you!"

Carmen shook his head, anger bleeding its way through his mind. "What the hell are you talking about? I told you, Richie, I don't want her anywhere near this place. I- I thought that was understood."

"No, it was not fucking understood because it was a stupid idea." Carmen let out a scoff as Richie put his hands out to Carmen in a calming gesture. "This is a good thing, trust me."

Carmen sputtered. "How the fuck is it-"

"Shut the fuck up and listen to me, Carm!" Richie shouted, bravely putting a hand up in front of Carmen's face. He pointed his finger at him which Carmen regarded with annoyance. "You need to stop being a moron and pushing away every single fucking female that tries to come within ten feet of you, alright?"

Carmen's brows furrowed even further, confusion building alongside anger. "I really have no goddamn idea what your point is here, Richie, but this has nothing to do with-"

"Oh spare me, Cousin!" He shouted. "We all know you've had the hots for Mars Bar over there since you were kids, alright?"

Carmen's mouth clamped shut immediately at this, his breathing coming out in fumes. He shook his head back and forth.

"Is this what this whole fucking thing is about, you jagoff?"

"Woah woah woah!" Richie cut in. "I am not the jagoff here, Cousin. I'm helping you out!"

"Richie's right, Carm," cut in Fak from behind, appearing suddenly out of nowhere like he always seemed to.

"Shut the fuck up, Fak!" Carmen held his head in his hand, trying to grab hold of his temper that he could feel slipping out of control. He needed to breathe.

"She can't work here."

Richie raised his arms in a shrug. "Well, you're gonna have to go tell her that yourself."

"I fucking will."

Carmen stormed off towards the kitchen door, ready to tell you yet again that you had to leave, a daunting thought overlooked thanks to adrenaline. Richie chuckled from behind him. "Yeah right, like you're gonna fire her."

Carmen didn't let himself listen to Richie any longer. Fists clenched at his sides, he opened the door and there you were, standing there, looking confused and a little surprised with parted lips.

Richie came up from behind and patted him on the back. "Go on, Carm. Tell her."  You watched as Carmen's jaw clenched.

Carmen really wanted to tell you that you couldn't work here. That you had to go home. That you had to run far away from this place and go back to studying abroad and being more successful than any of them and all of that bullshit. Maybe it was because your eyes were shining a little too bright in the restaurant lighting, or that they looked a little too hopeful as they stared back at him with raised brows, waiting. But he didn't say anything of those things.

"You..." he started. Your eyebrows raised further. His palms suddenly became sweatier. He took a breath in.

"You, um," a beat passed. He licked his lip. "You're gonna need an apron."

Your eyes lit up even more if possible, and he thought his heart would give out. Then, you ran up and threw your arms around his neck in a tight hug, and he genuinely questioned if his brain had short-circuited because, by the time he came back to reality, you'd already pulled away and were practically jittering with excitement from in front of him.

"Thank you so much, Carm." Every time you smiled at him in that way he felt himself lose a bit of control. He didn't like the feeling. "You won't regret it."

He smiled back at you because he couldn't not. He wasn't so sure.

Carmen had given you your apron. When he'd handed it to you, you'd brushed fingers and your heart skipped a little beat at the contact. That had been the most eventful thing to occur within the next four days.

You'd done practically nothing at The Beef all week. There'd been a noticeable lack of customers coming into the restaurant to take orders, and those who did oftentimes came in just to see Richie, which had you leaning against the counter waiting and listening to their loud conversations with the man.

It felt like there was some sort of prank being played on you. Surely they wouldn't pay you money for doing absolutely nothing. All the waiting around doing close to nothing made you antsy, frustrated, and confused.

You'd been meaning to address this to Carmen, to ask what you were doing wrong, but getting a hold of him was near impossible. You'd seen so little of Carmen that you couldn't even be sure he came into work most days, the only confirmation being his shouts coming from the kitchen at the others. As embarrassing as it was to admit, you became jealous of them. You'd take Carmen shouting orders at you in the kitchen any day over him saying nothing to you at all. It almost felt like he was avoiding you.

It was a Thursday night, and the antsy feeling inside of you had you staying late at work that night, wiping down tables with an intense amount of fervor.

You'd thought you were the last one in The Beef. It'd been dark for hours, but you had nobody and nothing exciting waiting for you at home, so working a little extra couldn't hurt. And, if it made Carmen notice your position at The Beef at least a little bit, it would be worth it.

As your thoughts drifted to the man, something made a noise from the kitchen, and it became apparent to you that maybe you weren't the only one working late that night.

"Hello?" You'd said aloud, your voice slightly echoing in the vacant restaurant. No response was returned. You slowly went back to scrubbing down a table against the far wall from the kitchen door when it swung open, and there stood Carmen Berzatto in his patchwork wool jacket, looking like seeing you was the last thing he'd expected.

The sight was jarring to you for a number of reasons. You jumped up speedily and tucked the rag you'd been using to clean tables slightly behind you as if he hadn't already seen you using it.

"Mars Bar?" He said, the nickname falling easily from his lips like it was the only one he'd ever known you by. He eyed your tense stance.

"Hey, Carmen." Your smile was just as unnatural. His eyebrows pulled downward at you, eyes squinting and blinking confusedly in the dim lighting like he was fighting sleep.

"What are you doing here so late?" You nibbled at your own lip. Carmen, even from across the room, made sure to follow the movement. You noticed him eye the rag in your hands.

"I was just cleaning off some of the umm ... some of the tables." You didn't know why you sounded so embarrassed. You also didn't know what was going through Carmen's mind as he looked over you, and then over the spotless tables behind you.

"Wow," he began, running a hand through his hair. "You really didn't have to do all this. It's not ... it's not part of your job, you know?" A feeling bitter and stale simmered inside of you.

"I know." You stood up straighter. "Maybe I just wanted to.

You wanted to say more in the moment, tell him all of your frustrations, but you didn't. You just stared back at him and watched as he walked towards where you stood by the tables. You didn't move an inch.

His eyes surveyed the tops of the tables and he marveled at how clean they were. Not just clean, but almost sparkling, even in the low lighting that came from a single overhead lamp and the streetlights from outside.

"You did a great job, Chef."

Your eyebrows raised unintentionally. He'd never called you that before, though you'd heard the name from his lips aimed at others countless times. He noticed your reaction.

"What?" He asked, eyeing you curiously. He leaned back against the table next to you, his beautiful stare almost becoming a little too much for you after a long day. You shrugged.

"Nothing. It's just," you paused, "you've never called me that before."

His expression was slightly confused, slightly amused. "Well," he began, gaze shifting from the ground to you. "Now I do. You work here, don't you?"

The question settled uncomfortably in your chest, and you let out a laugh that sounded just as strained. "Hardly."

Carmen's eyebrows flashed downwards in a quick frown. "What do you mean 'hardly'?" You felt his eyes scanning your face, scanning you. "What's up?"

You went back to rubbing at the corner of a nearby table with your rag if only to distract yourself from Carmen's gaze and the petty way your words sounded coming from your lips.

"I mean," you began. "It feels like I haven't really done much of anything around here, you know?" When he didn't say anything back, you continued. "I've only taken a handful of customer's orders in the past couple of days. And, I know I'm not the best cook in the world but I could definitely help out in the kitchen with something. Maybe I could cut up some stuff, or prep it, or whatever you guys call it. Anything, really."

He didn't say anything right away, and you became horrified that you'd pushed his buttons too many times in the last week with your rants and that he'd finally send you on your way once and for all. Then, you heard something like a laugh come from him. You reeled back.

"Is something funny?" You asked, your tone uncharacteristically sour. He silenced his amusement and looked at you intently.

"You've always been such an overachiever, Mars."

You paused, then shook your head. "Oh please, we all know you're the ambitious one."

"No, not when we were kids," Carmen argued. "I was never great in school. You, on the other hand," he chuckled under his breath. "My mom would have me go check in on you whenever we hadn't heard from you on a night before a test. Make sure you weren't overdosing on coffee and pop."

You swore you could feel your heart beating in your chest at Carmen's revelation and the fondness in his voice.

"You know," Carmen began again, getting lost in memories. "I think my mom used to have this theory I'd marry you one day or something. Said you were the only girl who'd put up with my stubbornness."

Oh my God. Your head was spinning. Why was he saying this? He didn't know what the hell he was doing to you. Or your heartbeat, which was concerningly gaining speed. He never did.

All you could say was, "Oh?"

He laughed some more like this was something casual, something funny. You couldn't help but notice that forever present weight present in his eyes, though. Something he could never seem to shed.

"Yeah, well," Carmen began again, "my mother has also been mentally unstable for years, so." He jokingly trailed off, his voice dying in the silence, along with any butterflies you'd felt. You laughed quietly, even if laughing was the last thing you wanted to do when hearing that.

You felt like you were being suffocated. By him and his blue eyes and his dry, self-deprecating jokes and the small quirk of his lips. You were also getting restless because you'd started off trying to talk with Carmen about your job, and now were getting lost in the haze of your feelings for him which you decided were useless and would get you nowhere. You cast them aside the best you could and looked him directly in the eyes.

"Carmen," you said. His attention focused directly on you. "Did you listen to any of the things I said about working here?"

He nodded. "Yeah," he assured you. "Of course."

"So, will you take them into consideration? Let me do more, Carmen. I can do more."

There was a beat of silence. He fidgeted, like he did when he was a boy and couldn't focus in class, or when he was nervous around a girl he'd liked. Nervous around you.

He wanted to say yes. Hell, he would've given you anything you'd asked for just to see you happy. But he didn't know what the consequences of giving you a more important role at The Beef would achieve. What it might stop you from achieving. What it might do to him. So, he didn't say anything. Not anything direct.

"I know you can, Mars." He exhaled and then put his hands in his pockets, eyes cast down. He glanced at his watch. "It's almost midnight. We can talk about this more in the morning. Okay?"

His response was like a smack in the face. A sharp pain that left a dull ache. You let a breath out and tried to keep your face from revealing your stubborn frustration. You slowly nodded. "Okay."

Even if you tried to contain your emotions, Carmen could see it. He noticed it in the quick flare of your nostrils as you breathed, in the slight clench of your jaw. Stupidly, he asked, "Is that okay?"

You weren't looking at him. You were looking at your feet. You tapped your foot once. "Yes."

Even more stupidly, he asked, "Are you sure?"

You finally shifted your focus to him and he felt his own jaw clench at the way it sent a rush down his spine.

"Yeah, Carmen." That was the first time he didn't like the way you said his name.

"Alright," he said, nodding slowly, lifting his bag higher on his shoulder.

"Alright."

You lifted the rag from the table, stood there for a second, and walked towards the counter, where you wrung it out and slapped it down into a bucket full of other dirty rags, and left it there. You didn't feel much like putting it away.

Carmen hadn't moved and just stood there by the tables, watching as you collected your coat from behind the counter and turned off the lights as you walked past.

When he saw you walking towards the door, he rushed to get there first, to open it for you. You beat him to it, opening it yourself. He closed it and locked the door behind him. You both were engulfed by the dull chill of the air right away, and you couldn't help but shiver.

Carmen turned to you. "Let me drive you home." He didn't dare offer you a lighthearted smile or anything of that sort. He didn't think he had it in himself to be lighthearted, anyways.

You gifted him a polite one with a short tug of your lips. "I have a car. Thanks."

Carmen could've smacked himself right there. "Right." He didn't know what was wrong with him. "Sorry." The apology was for more than just his assumption, but he couldn't bring himself to clarify.

"I'll walk you to your car then?" He asked, though you knew no matter what you said he'd make sure you'd get to your car safely either way.

"Okay, yeah."

You both turned to walk to your car, Carmen letting you take the lead for a moment before catching up to walk side by side with you. You were hit with the reality that Carmen Berzatto was walking you to your car, alone with you, at midnight. A small gesture that had your mind buzzing from the contrast between your love for him and your frustration with him. Nobody had come close to making you feel the emotions Carmen made you feel, even if no words were shared between both of you on that short walk. It felt completely silent. Somehow, even if the streets of Chicago were anything but, it felt silent.

Carmen thought about how his life was full of silent moments, never saying what he truly wanted to, to the people he wanted to speak to the most. When he noticed you were cold, even through your jacket, he walked a little closer to you. Whether you noticed it or not, he didn't know, but at least it soothed a small part of his mind that was blaring that night, telling him that he'd fucked up with you. That you deserved better. He couldn't help but think that same thing when he was around you, all the time.

You'd both crossed the street to reach your car in not even a full minute, but the walk had felt eternal to you. When you turned to Carmen to tell him goodnight, he was already looking at you intently. You wanted to ask what he was thinking, but you didn't, and unlocked your car.

"See you in the morning, Carmen," you said, tone unrevealing. He gave you his best neutral smile.

"Yeah. See you, Mars."

You went to open your car door, but this time he beat you to it. Even if he made you angry, he was still Carmen.

You watched as he rounded the front of your car back to the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, soft breathing visible in the cold from the white puffs it made in the air as he breathed.

You gave him one last wave as a goodbye, but by that time he was pretty much out of vision, and then drove away.

He watched your car drive down the street, stop at the light, turn the corner, and then glide out of view.

Immediately, he knew he should've said more on the walk to your car. He should've at least apologized. He didn't tell you that he was sorry for being so shitty. He didn't tell you he appreciated everything you did. He also didn't tell you his car was parked on the opposite end of the street.

And as he walked back to it, crossing The Beef again with its spotless tables, he thought about nothing except you.

The next morning had you waking up with a headache that only worsened when you stepped foot into The Beef. Your coworkers were shouting and blurting out orders in typical kitchen lingo that you honestly didn't fully understand.

There seemed to be an underlying tension simmering in the air that morning that had everyone's voices raised just a little bit more than usual, echoing through to you from your designated spot behind the front counter.

You figured out soon that that tension came from the review of The Beef that had been put in the paper the night before. It was the same topic that had Sydney and Richie arguing back and forth for minutes on end next to you.

"So this is a war on poor people?" You heard Richie ask as you finally tuned back into their yelling. "I see you."

"No," Sydney yelled back. "This is a war on you shutting the fuck up and learning how to use the tablet! The end dude."

"What is the end?"

You turned to your left to see Carmen stride out of the kitchen, looking every bit intense, shoulders hunched and rigid. He glanced at you in some form of a greeting for only a second before putting himself between Richie and Sydney and somewhat settling their argument.

"Are we ready?" He asked them with a rushed tone.

"No!" Sydney snapped, but headed back into the kitchen with Richie, even if you could see she wanted to punch the man in the face.

You turned back around to watch Carmen as he hurriedly ran a hand through his hair and started to rush back into the kitchen. You tried to catch his eyes, but he didn't meet your gaze.

"Um, Chef?" You tried to call, reaching out an arm to get his attention just a hair too late, him brushing past you without taking notice of you.

"Carmen?" This time he turned around, head flipping around to focus on you with eyes shot wide in the rush.

"What's up?" He asked, eyes quickly assessing your face. For a second you forgot what you were supposed to be asking.

"Did you, um, think about what I said last night?" He blinked back at you. "You said we'd talk about it in the morning, so, could we maybe talk about it?"

With the way he stared back at you, for a second you could've sworn he'd forgotten what you were talking about. Then, it had clearly dawned on him and he squeezed his eyes shut for a second, holding out a hand to his head.

"No, yeah, right." He thought for a second, and then looked around, peeking into the kitchen, attention clearly spread elsewhere.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "Can we just ... talk about this another time?"

You tried not to show your frustration. "Like when?"

"Uh," Carmen started, but he was already backing into the kitchen. A loud clanging noise of pots and pans rang through to the front, and his focus was completely lost. "Who the fuck keeps denting my pans, Chefs?!" He shouted. He threw the kitchen door open and moved to go inside, but not before calling out "We'll talk later, Chef!" and disappearing into the kitchen.

You groaned. "Later," could mean any time between that day and Easter. You didn't want to blame Carmen. You knew he was extremely busy and tended to overwork himself. But something in the back of your mind told you he was avoiding you. You didn't like the feeling.

It'd only been maybe an hour into the day when all hell started to break loose in the kitchen. At least from what you could hear. There was three times as much yelling as usual and people were weaving through the station by the front counter and the kitchen, shouting sandwich orders. Meanwhile, you felt lost and unhelpful, with no direct answer as to what was going on.

You'd spent your time filling up the napkin dispenser and cutting green tape, feeling your uselessness in your bones. Maybe Carmen was right. Maybe you were overly ambitious. That didn't change the fact that now it seemed like not just Carmen, but everyone else had gone out of their way to keep you away from the kitchen.

You'd thought about going in there anyway, but thought better of it when listening to the commotion. That was, until you saw Marcus with his bags taking his leave towards the exit, a look of both anger and defeat on his face.

"Woah, Marcus," you called out with furrowed brows. "What's wrong? Where are you going?"

He let out a quick breath from his nose that sounded like it was supposed to be a wry laugh. He pointed towards the back. "Anywhere but in that kitchen." You frowned and he shook his head. "He's losing his shit, man."

You were confused and looked to him for more of an explanation, but he was already walking out the door and it didn't seem like he had any plans of coming back. You wanted to ask him "who?", but you had a sinking feeling in your gut telling you that you already knew just who he meant.

That and the loud "Fuck!" that came from the other side of the wall was the last push you needed to finally storm into the litchen. As soon as you walked in, it was a complete overload to your senses. The sounds and smells of sizzling food, the clunky buzzing of timers, and an argument at practically every corner. What had you reeling to a stop, though, was the sight of Carmen shouting truly throat-tearing orders, face turning red with exertion, hair damp from sweat, skin gleaming in the sight.

"Can somebody get me a Sharpie that fucking works?!" he screamed while whipping a Sharpie out of his hand and onto the ground. Your eyes widened at the sight.

"Woah," you said aloud, not even meaning to say the word but being unable to stop yourself. When you did, Carmen's focus switched onto you in a second and you could see the pure chaos held behind his eyes.

"Wh- what the fuck are you doing in here?"

You frowned at his abruptness. "I just wanted to know what the hell is going on in here-"

"Nothing is going on in here."

Someone laughed from around the corner and about three more timers began to buzz and beep.

"Oh please, I've been hearing screaming for hours and then I see Marcus storming out of here with his things saying you've lost it."

At that, Carmen paused, eyes searching yours intently. "Marcus left?"

"Yeah," you answered steadily, unsure of how exactly he'd react. "It looked like he was quitting."

For a second, it looked like Carmen felt guilty, sad, but then he was fuming and slamming his hands down on the counter.

"Fuck!" He shook his head back and forth like he was rummaging through a thousand thoughts swirling around his head. He shouted again. "Fuck!"

You didn't like the sight before you, or the way Carmen seemed to be losing control of himself, and quickly. "Now can you tell me what the problem is?" You almost pleaded. "I could help."

Carmen hardly bothered to look you in the eyes and strode past you to reach the oven you'd been standing by, lifting the lid of a pot and adjusting the heat at lightning speed.

"You're not seriously ignoring me right now when I'm offering to help-"

He put up a hand. "I told you I'd talk with you later, Mars. Go back to the register."

You scoffed. "What the hell are you talking about? That's-" you shook your head. "I'm not leaving until I at least know what the fuck is going on."

"You wanna know what the fuck is going on?" Richie shouted out, laughing to himself loudly as he appeared from behind the corner. "Some moron left the pre-order option open on her beloved tablet overnight and now we're 250-something beefs behind schedule!"

Your head was spinning from the news and from the lack of air in the kitchen, but the yelling kept coming.

"Okay, well, the 'moron' is right here and she has a name, thank you," cut in Sydney, livid. "And there is no fucking way you are putting all the blame on me right now, Richie-"

"Who else's fucking fault is it sweetheart?"

"Richie, I swear to God if you call me that one more time-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Carmen's booming voice split the two of them apart. "Shut the fuck up and get back to work!"

They listened and went back to their stations angrily mumbling to themselves. That didn't change the fact that you knew the kitchen was in deep shit and Carmen was one wrong move away from losing his mind. You watched as he stormed around the kitchen to different stations. You'd be an idiot if you just stood at the register waiting for more nonexistent orders.

"Sydney," you called out as she passed by. "What can I do to help?"

She raised the corners of her lips in a slightly surprised smile and thought for a second.

"You can probably start by helping me with peeling these potatoes for now." She handed you a basket filled with potatoes and pointed towards a metal peeler on the counter. You quickly nodded.

"Okay, on it, Chef."

"Great. Oh, and-"

"Sydney, what the fuck are you doing?" yelled Carmen as he rounded the corner behind Sydney. He glanced angrily back and forth between you and the potatoes in your hands.

Sydney rolled her eyes. "What does it look like I'm doing, Chef? I'm getting us some very much necessary extra help."

"We don't need any fucking extra help right now!"

Sydney turned fully to face him. "Carmy what the fuck is your problem right now? Just let her fucking peel some potatoes!"

Carmen was breathing heavily, a vein in his neck visibly contracting."I told you guys she stays out front. I told everyone she's not supposed to-"

"Excuse me?" You asked, cutting in. He was talking about you like you weren't standing right behind Sydney, hearing his every shouted word. "Sydney's right. You need to stop getting so worked up about this!"

Carmen looked like he wanted to scream. To break out into shouts even louder than even those from this morning. You'd only seen Carmen worked up like this a few times before and even then he knew when he was taking things too far.

He didn't say anything back to you and just turned away.

"Someone just get her out of here!" He hollered, to anyone who'd listen. Anyone but you. Somehow, that was even more angering than his yelling.

"Hey!" You yelled, shoving his shoulder back to turn him to face you. He glanced down towards the same shoulder before looking back towards you. You saw something haughty flash behind his eyes as they stared back at you. "Whatever you need to say about me, you can say it to me, Carmen."

He was definitely speaking to you now.

"I need you to stay the fuck out!" He pointed a finger down at you. "You never fucking listen to me! I gave you this job because you fucking asked me to, because Richie fucking asked me to. So how about you finally listen to me and stay the fuck out?!"

You knew everyone had stopped to watch. It was quieter in the kitchen than it had been all morning.

You both stood standing there with heavy breathing. Your mind couldn't think of what to say back in that moment, but a thousand different responses played through your mind. Things you wanted to ask, to shout, to make sure he understood.

Your stare bore into Carmen's own for a few seconds, noticing the anger in them, but also something fragile threatening to shatter and reveal itself. He looked away from you quickly, bracing a hand on the counter.

"Leave, Chef." He said. You didn't need to be asked twice. Not that he was asking.

"Yeah," you laughed under your breath. You untied your apron and left it on the counter. "I definitely will."

He could call you Chef, but he wouldn't even let you enter the kitchen. He could yell at you, but he couldn't even look you in the eyes as you finally left the kitchen.

Another timer went off in the background as Carmen stood there, mulling over what he'd just done in his head; the one thing, most of all, he didn't want to happen.

Sydney shook her head, brushing past him. "Carmen Berzatto, you are a fucking idiot."

He didn't have anything to say, nothing to argue back with. He knew she was right. And as he heard the front door jingle as a sign of you leaving, he also knew just how badly he'd fucked up.

You didn't come to work the next day, or the day after that. Carmen never got to listen for the jingle of the doorbell as you came into work. He didn't get a single glimpse of you, those glimpses that were like caffeine shots, keeping him going every day. He didn't see your warm, familiar eyes that reminded him why he kept going in the first place. This was what he got for trying to keep you at arm's length. For being an asshole. The regret knawed at him painstakingly.

When the first hour went by and you didn't show up, he didn't need anyone to tell him that you wouldn't come into work that day. He had Richie cover the register in your place, an order shouted quickly as he was forced to think about things other than you. And as the day went on, the fact that he didn't know when he'd see you again was a heavy weight that lay in his chest, waiting to be addressed.

You awoke that morning in your apartment, phone lighting up beside you on your bedside table to four missed calls all from the same person. A person you didn't really feel like talking to much.

You checked the time and saw it was almost noon. It wasn't like you to sleep in. And, you hadn't called in sick to work. Not that it mattered.

The next day went the same. You hadn't called in sick that morning either, but you didn't have it in you to care. You didn't even know if you wanted to come back, but there was a twisting feeling inside of you that you knew wouldn't feel release until you settled things with Carmen. The hard part would lay in being upfront with him, not letting him make any excuses, and not letting yourself soften all because he was Carmen Berzatto. A battle between your pride and whatever you felt for him.

Carmen had called you two more times, but soon, the calls stopped coming. Carmen may have been an asshole at times, but he wasn't an idiot. In fact, he was extremely smart. And definitely smart enough to know that calling you repeatedly would get him nowhere, not when he'd been as awful as he had.

You'd spent the day driving around running errands that left you tired with boredom. The sun was setting as you walked back to your own front door, the air crisp and clear from the cold while your mind felt anything but. You reached your front doorstep and unlocked the entrance to your apartment, only to step forward and feel something crunch and mash underneath the heel of your shoe. You lifted your foot and glanced downward.

A candy bar. You peered down further. A Mars Bar.

Something inside of you paused. Maybe your heartbeat, maybe your thoughts. You weren't sure but you could feel it. The now half-smushed candy bar lay on the floor like a bittersweet memory.

You blinked. There was a note. It looked like it had been torn from the corner of something messily. More importantly, there was writing on it, in pencil, words pressed hard into paper.

I'm an asshole. You don't deserve that.

No name, but you knew who it was from. Not a "sorry" in sight, but you knew he was trying. You could almost feel the intent behind the words etched into the paper as you held it. You wanted to be furious still. And you definitely were mad. But maybe not as much. Because you knew Carmen.

You knew he had the temper of someone who'd just lost a brother, of someone who'd grown up in a screaming Berzatto household in the heart of Chicago. You'd never taken his outbursts to heart and you didn't want to now. Besides. You knew, eventually, you'd miss him too much to ignore him.

So much for not giving in to Carmen Berzatto.

You didn't really know what plan you had when you walked back towards your car, sat down, placed the chocolate bar and note in your bag, and drove. You didn't think you had one. You just were aware that your days away from The Beef had been extremely boring and that you wanted to see Carmen. To hear what he had to say to you. Even if it didn't end the way you wanted.

The familiar path to The Beef stretched before you now as an uncertain one. When you got there, you tossed your bag over your shoulder and got out of your car to the sight of the lights off in the front of the restaurant. But, if you knew anything about Carmen, you knew he'd stay late. Your assumption was proven right when you entered through the unlocked door—a slightly concerning fact—and saw the harsh white light of the kitchen flooding through to the rest of the place.

You hesitated to enter, not sure if you really knew what you were doing, but ignored the thoughts plaguing you and walked carefully into the kitchen, waiting at the door when you saw him.

He faced mostly away from the door, from you, hunched over the counter doing something that had his full focus, enough of it that he didn't notice you at first. You saw he had a toothbrush in hand and that he was determinedly scrubbing at the silver countertop surface that already sparkled spotlessly. Clearly, he didn't notice or care.

It felt like you were holding your breath as you watched him, saw how focused he was, how the muscles in his back flexed and churned with each precise movement he made as he scrubbed at a nonexistent stain. Like he held a desire to erase more than just grime.

He did that for what felt like another minute without pause, and you watched the whole time wordlessly, not wanting to break the focus he had and not knowing what to say regardless. Part of you just wanted to watch him, to see how long he could keep at it without noticing you. It wasn't for too long.

He lifted his posture upright and ran a hand through his hair, inhaling deeply with little exhale as if something weighty was plaguing him. Then, he finally sensed your presence at the doorway, eyes flicking towards you as his moments came to a halt. You watched him part his lips as he thought about what to say.

He shakenly said your name, a fragile plea. The word was soft coming from his lips like he knew it well, but nestled in your brain with surprise as he called you by your real name, not just a nickname. You didn't know what to say, so you didn't say anything at all.

As he looked at you standing in the doorway, he felt exposed, like you could see through any walls he'd tried to build around himself. Words faltered from his brain. His lips parted again as if he was going to say something more, but they shut just as quickly and he ran a hand over his chin. He gestured that hand out to you.

"You uhm- did you get my note?"

You stared back at him for a beat before nodding and reaching into your bag. You held the note out in front of you, the side of your mouth quirking upwards. "Was this Carmen language for 'I'm sorry' ?"

You were half kidding and half serious, a test hidden in your words. The fact weighed on Carmen's brain, his demeanor more nervous than usual, more anxious.

"Yeah, uhm," he scrunched his eyes closed for a half second before walking towards you, taking the note from your hand and reading it to himself again, feeling the warm haze of shame creeping up on him. "Let me translate."

He read it once more. "Well, the 'I'm an asshole,' is pretty verbatim. I'm an asshole, and an idiot, and a bunch of other bad things." He glanced up at you from the paper and was relieved to see that you seemed at least a little amused. He continued. "And the 'You don't deserve that', you see, that's the good part, it translates directly to 'I'm sorry for yelling at you ' and 'it doesn't matter how stressed I was, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. That was wrong of me. And ... you're great.' "

Your eyebrows raised. "That's quite the translation."

Carmen laughed to himself breathily, but it held little amusement. "Yeah, I've been told communicating with me is like trying to tame a wild animal."

You smiled. "Who told you that?"

"Sugar."

Your laugh was warm and sounded like home. It was a feeling that left as fast as it came because soon the air between the two of you seemed to thicken with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. The heavy silence lay bare and neither of you decided to fill it right away.

"Carmen."

The way you said his name sent shivers down his spine, a sensation that never ceased to affect him. He nodded at you, eyes studying your face showing that you had his sole attention.

"I know you don't like the idea of me being here. You don't have to try and hide it." His eyes widened as you spoke."But, could you at least tell me why?"

He stared back at you, brows furrowed like he was confused. It was like you could see the gears turning in his brain as he fought to find the right wording, revealed by the stiffening mass of his shoulders that never seemed to relax.

"I don't not like you being here, Mars Bar." He spoke slowly. "I think it's great that you're back in Chicago. I ... We've missed you."

A subtle warmth lay in his gaze, but you couldn't help but feel it was dimmed by whatever emotion he'd been suppressing, the battle evident in flickers in the blue of his eyes.

"I want to believe that, but with the way you've been avoiding me, how can I?"

"Avoiding you- that's," he shook his head, almost seeming incredulous, and you watched as he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did. "I haven't been trying to avoid you."

You didn't know how he could sound surprised, how you could've interpreted the way he's acted all week as anything else. "Well that's definitely what it's felt like when I tried talking to you all week, and you're just ... I don't know, dismissive."

He rubbed a hand at the nape of his neck, focus pitched somewhere that wasn't at you, jaw tightening slightly. "I just ... it's busy around here trying to bring in enough money, and there have been a lot of different things that have my focus right now," he started, as if he hadn't, time and time again, had to remind himself to stop thinking about you.

"Carmen, I know you're busy but that-," you tried to keep your emotions from showing through your voice, but you were aware of the tinge of frustration that was slipping through. "I know that's only part of it. I just need you to be more transparent with me. I can't read your mind."

He nodded, silently thanking God that you couldn't. He swallowed again and you noticed a tremor in the way he held the note he'd written, a sign of unease that he quickly hid in the pocket of his jeans.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know." His blue eyes stared into yours, though you could sense the reluctance in his voice. "But I'm not gonna lie and say that I think it's a good idea for you to stay here."

You felt yourself frown, brows tugging downwards in frustration and confusion. "Why?"

His gaze faltered for just a moment, seeming torn, but he was quick to regain his momentum. "This place is ... it's not meant for someone like you."

You squinted at him, feeling a mix of disbelief and irritation. "Someone like me?"

"Yeah, I just mean," he hesitated, hearing the way you repeated his words, like they were meant to insult. "You were supposed to leave here and finish your studies abroad and achieve great things. Things bigger and better than this shit hole. You were gonna-"

"Carmen, stop." You almost scoffed to yourself. "My plans were always to stay close to home. A few months abroad weren't gonna change that." The air in the room seemed to thicken with the weight of the words you both shared, the thoughts never said allowed before. You noticed your breathing was becoming labored as you failed to understand the way Carmen's mind worked, the way he tried to communicate so much by doing so little.

"This whole time you were worried about me supposedly being meant to achieve great things, but what about you?" You let out a stunned laugh. "You're the one who studied with the best of the best, traveled all over, became a world-class chef and everything else, and now you're overworking yourself at this place and refusing help."

"Yeah, well, that part of my life stopped when Mikey gave this place to me as a final fuck you, so."

Your heart twinged not only at the name, but at the way Carmen's eyes flashed with hurt while his words could've cut stone.

"Mikey gave this place to you because he trusted you," you reasoned. You tried to make him come down from wherever he was, to detach himself from the hurt and open up. The hard plane of his shoulders lifted once in a shrug, with a small shake of his head as he stared at the ground.

"Yeah well, he just ended up fucking screwing me over."

Carmen's frustration seeped into his voice, the way he emphasized each word like he wanted to release whatever was simmering under the surface. You wanted to reach out, tell him that he could, but you held yourself back and stood up taller.

"That doesn't mean you should push people away from this place. Push me away. I could help out here. I saw how hectic it was the last time I was here and-"

"That day was a fluke," Carmen cut you off. "It's not usually like that..." his jaw worked. "I'm not usually like that." His words were laced with exasperation and a little bit of shame. You could tell he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

"Carmen, I understand. But-"

"I already blew up at you." His voice cut into the air harshly. He looked away, his chest rising as he tried to control rising frustration. "I didn't mean to do that, I don't... I'm not gonna let that happen again." His words were starting to come out in a rush, escaping his control, something you knew never sat well with him.

"Well, that's my choice to make, Carmen, not one that you can make for me."

"Mars, The Beef isn't- you don't want to settle for this place, just trust me."

"How can I trust you when you've done nothing but push me away since I got here?" You heard the tremble that was growing in your own voice, a mix of hurt and anger. "You've told me a million times what I want and don't want. Have you ever stopped to ask me what I wanted? Seen my point of view?"

Carmen's breathing was picking up too, the crystals that were his eyes looking at you with a mixture of defiance and desperation. He ran a hand over his face.

"I've tried to see your point of view."

"Have you?" you snapped back.

"I gave you the job even though I knew it was a bad idea, I went against what I knew just because it was you and I let Richie convince me it was a good idea, and I am fucking done listening to Richie's ideas-" his breathing was becoming uneven as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

"Hey, Richie's done a lot more to help me since I've gotten back than you have, and a lot more listening!" Now you were yelling, and he was yelling and you didn't like the direction this was going.

"Yeah, well did Richie tell you this place was hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt when Mikey gave it to me? Did he tell you we probably couldn't even afford to pay you a decent fucking salary?"

You opened your mouth, expecting to be equipped with a response as fast as the ones that came before, but that didn't happen and you didn't say anything. You let your eyes scan Carmen, searching for a hint that he wasn't serious, but he looked wholeheartedly sincere and angered. In fact, he looked like he was fighting to even breathe steadily.

You looked at him concernedly, taking a step closer, but he just continued, laughing to himself without joy. "He didn't fucking tell you. Of course not."

His breaths were harsh, coming from his nose and lifting his chest repeatedly. His arms slapped down at his sides, hands trembling. "See, that's why I fucking told him I didn't want you anywhere near this crap hole, I fucking told him-"

His yelling stopped. He recoiled, backing up into the counter recklessly, a pot falling behind him with a clang that had you flinching. His vision was pointed downwards towards the ground, but he was frowning so hard you were sure he couldn't see anything at all, hand to his chest, gripping.

"Carmen?" You asked, alarm suddenly overtaking you and washing away whatever anger had been bubbling inside of you. "Wh- are you okay?"

It took him a second to even process what you'd said, another to respond. "I'm fine, I-" you put a hand on his shoulder to brace him, feeling how tense it was, feeling it trying to move with the effort of his shallow breaths. Panic, shame, embarrassment, everything, seemed to claw at his chest, constricting his breathing even more. "I just- fuck, I can't- I can't-"

"You can't breathe," you said, understanding what was going on now with another flash of alarm that you hid, trying to stay calm. He nodded shakily.

"Carmen," you said steadily. To him, the sound of your voice was distant, overshadowed by the sound of his heart pounding loudly in his ears, muffled the way voices sounded when from underwater. Carmen knew he wasn't underwater. You called his name again, and he did his best to hear it. "You're having a panic attack."

He managed to shake his head again. "I'm fine. I just- shit." His legs practically gave out from underneath him and he braced one hand on the table behind him, one on your shoulder.

The sight of Carmen collapsing to the ground had you wanting to release a sob, but instead, you threw Carmen's arm around you and somehow managed to take two steps towards a bucket that was on the floor against a near wall and got him to sit down on it unsteadily.

You took both of his hands in yours, noticing how his shoulders shook, how the bottom of his neck tinted red from the straining effort to breathe.

"Carmen," you called, kneeling down to his level and giving his hands a squeeze. His vision was blurred, staring downwards, but the hazy sight of his hands wrapped up in yours gave his mind a moment's peace before he was struggling to focus again.

You took a deep breath in, feeling selfish that you even could. "Carm, do your best to look at me." You purposefully slowed your words, spoke softly and clearly, and Carmen heard. You took one hand and rested it by his cheek, hair pooling into your fingers. You brushed it back, and ran your thumb across the rise of his cheekbone, lifting his face to look upwards at you. Even when his mind could hardly form coherent thoughts, your touch still affected him like no one else's.

Once his eyes were on you, you took the hand that was still holding his and placed both on your own chest, covering the area of warm skin close enough to feel your heartbeat. A tremor rolled through him, at your hand, at the way you felt, at your touch.

You. You were here, he thought, and that was a comfort to him in itself.

"Here," you said, pressing down gently but firmly on his hand. "Can you feel my heartbeat?"

Carmen tried, really tried, but his head wasn't focusing no matter what he did. You noticed his struggle right away, like he didn't even have to form words for you to know.

Hurriedly, you took off your jacket and threw it to the ground beside you. Carmen heard the sound of a zipper before his hand was taken in yours again and placed on your chest. This time, the underside of his hand felt warmer, closer to you, to skin.

"How about now?" you asked. His eyes were shut, and he really did his best to focus this time, tune into you, into the way your chest moved up and down beneath his hand, and with it, he heard the soft and steadying rhythm of your heartbeat.

"Yeah, I- I feel it."

You let yourself smile slightly, trying to take slow and deliberate breaths. "Carmen, I need you to do your best to match your breathing with mine." You looked at him and the way his features were scrunching with the effort of trying to listen to you. "Can you do that for me?"

He nodded. He'd do anything for you.

He focused on only his hand, yours, and you. Your chest underneath his palm, warm, and steadying, and alive. He felt it rise once, and fall, all in the time that he let out multiple staggering breaths.

The next time yours rose, he didn't let himself exhale until you did, taking in air from his parted lips and releasing it through his nose, feeling how the air spread thin throughout his body, a good feeling. He did that again, focused on the way his fingertips grazed bare skin, on the sound of your heart beating, in time with his now.

Behind the blank nothingness of his eyelids, scenes played out before him. Visions of his past, echos of familiar voices, spurts of color and light overtaking him.

Then, he thought of you, of the warmth of your gaze, even if he didn't deserve it. The shine of your skin, the way it looked soft even in the harsh light of the kitchen. Thoughts of you, you with him, years ago, months ago, and days, how he'd seen you for the first time in months, standing behind the counter with a smile sweet like the chocolate bars you'd always liked, the one he'd left at your doorstep, a weak attempt at salvaging one of the best relationships he'd ever known. He'd buy a million more if it meant you'd stay with him, by his side, like you'd been for years. Like you were now.

He didn't know how much time had gone by, but he opened his eyes and you were still there, still holding onto him, face looking calm but eyes swirling with emotion. With concern.

He felt fine now, his body having enough strength to support him, but he leaned into you regardless, head sunk down, resting in the place beneath your chin, on your chest. He wanted to get as close to your heartbeat as possible, not just feel it with his hand but surround himself with it.

You brought your hands up to envelop him, one resting on the white cotton covering the hard muscles of his back, rubbing it soothingly, the other coming up to rest in his hair again, gently brushing through the strands closest to the root as if to say I'm here, I have you.

You leaned your own head down to slightly rest on the back of his, mouth brushing against the crown of his head in a way so delicate he wasn't even sure he felt it. But you saw the way he melted into your touch, felt the way the muscles in his back slowly seemed to release tension at each caress. He needed to be held. But he was him, he'd never ask for it. But, you were you, and you'd always know.

You stayed like that for minutes more, though you would've held him all night if he needed it. When he sat back up, the whites of his eyes were tinted pink, and one of his cheeks was gleaming in the light, damp. You didn't comment on it. You didn't say anything at all but stood up from where you knelt and walked towards the counters, peeking underneath them until you found what you needed. You stopped at the sink and returned to your spot in front of Carmen with a plastic deli container filled with water in hand. You offered it to him wordlessly.

"Thank you," he said, taking it from you gingerly, but his voice was hoarse and he felt the red heat of embarrassment as he took large sips of the water, draining it halfway at once. A water droplet escaped from the side of the cup, dripping down his chin, and your eyes followed the movement until you felt guilty about it and stared down at your own hands. The two of you let the silence rest as it was, peaceful and healing, until you felt ready to break it.

"I'm sorry," you said, slightly a surprise for yourself to hear the words from your mouth, but you meant them. Carmen sat back up. "For pushing you to this point. I didn't mean to-"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Carmen spoke quietly, voice somehow steady. "It- ... that wasn't your fault. It's happened before, when you weren't here."

You let your eyes scan over his face concernedly because he wasn't looking straight at you and you always felt the need to look after him, even if he wouldn't let you.

"This has happened before?" Carmen gave a weak shrug, like this wasn't something he thought about on his own, something he ever let occupy his focus.

"Something like it."

You made a breathy sound of disbelief. "Shit, Carmen."

So many thoughts were demanding your attention, too many. You wanted to tell him how this wasn't supposed to be a normal occurrence, how not okay it was to ignore his mental well-being. Shake him silly for never caring about the right things, for never caring about himself enough. To give him yet another lecture on letting you help him, on letting anyone help him.

"It wasn't as bad this time." His voice paused all your thoughts. "I think it was because you were here."

You didn't know how to respond, but he finally looked into your eyes and saw how much they spoke for you, how they widened, and then blinked once or twice, shying away. Almost like you were guilty, like you were sad. Something inside of him reminded him that he was probably part of the reason for that, and that ate away at him more deeply than any of his, like you said, panic attacks, ever had.

"I'm sorry, Mars."

Your eyes flicked up to his immediately, intention behind them. "You never need to apologize for having a panic attack, Carmen."

"No, for- for not just that." He paused. "For being an ass. For yelling at you. For not listening to you."

You looked at him wordlessly. You didn't want to say it was okay, because you'd be lying if you said that, if you didn't acknowledge how his words still rang sharply in your head. But you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't admit that Carmen certainly made things feel okay when he was calm like this, understanding. Peaceful.

"And I'm sorry for all the shit I gave you about not listening to me."

You let out a quick breath, almost a laugh. "To be fair, I ... didn't."

His heart seemed to swell at even just the hint of laughter that coated your voice.

"Yeah. You don't listen to me." He let the side of his mouth quirk up to match yours. "That's the thing I love about you." Internally he thought, just one of many.

You stared up at him. At the way his eyes seemed to look over your face in adoration. It did something to your heart, pulled on the strings of it, and left it panging in your chest. He noticed right away.

"You alright?" His concern and furrowed brows almost made you want to laugh.

"Yes I'm-," you exhaled. "I'm fine. The real question is, are you alright?" He watched as your eyes flitted all around his face. "To be honest, you don't seem it."

He self-deprecatingly chuckled. "Wow, thanks, Mars."

You shook his arm a little bit, expression disbelieving. "I'm serious."

You thought about how tense he'd been underneath your touch, how tense he'd seemed for the many days that you'd been back home. How that couldn't be healthy for anyone.

"You need to start taking better care of yourself, Carmen." You made sure he was hearing your every word. "Your mental health is important. More important than any job. You have to stop worrying so much about The Beef and start worrying more about you."

He ran a tired hand over his eyes, immediately feeling the urge to look away. "If I didn't put as much as I did into this place, I don't even think it'd still be up and running."

You let the words hang between the both of you for a moment, knowing how important this was to him. It was important to you too.

"I know how much you've done for this place, Carm." You took his hand in yours again. "You care about it a lot, always have. I have too. But you know the toll it's taking on you. That's not good for anyone, and it'll only last so long. And ... that's why I think you should take any help you can get, for now."

As soon as the topic left your lips again, you felt his hand stiffen in your hand, mouth opening to argue, but you held up a hand.

"And before you say anything, I don't care about the full salary, I don't I care about traveling, or 'wasting my potential' or any of that. I care about helping this place, making sure it lasts, for Mikey." You breathed. "And for you. I care about you."

He could feel his own heart start to race in his chest, flustered like he hadn't known you for years, like you weren't one of his oldest friends.

"I care about you too," he said, and the words felt shamefully foreign on his tongue, thinking about how little he'd ever actually said the words. "That's part of why it's hard for me to think about you working here. You mean a shit ton to me. More than anyone else in this damn place."

"You don't mean that." You couldn't stop the way your brows pushed together, looking down at your hand that was holding Carmen's rough and callused ones. "What about Richie, or Fak, or Sydney-"

"They mean a shit ton to me too, but it's ... not the same. You're you."

He looked into your eyes, trying to see if you'd recognized his hints, but he picked up emotions other than the realization. On a frown, on reluctance, on a guarded, shy look.

"I'll always be me, Carmen." You bit at the inside of your cheek, putting off the topic like you weren't important. That was a foreign idea to him. "That doesn't matter. What matters is you not accepting help."

You saw the way his demeanor shifted at your words, a sense of uncomfortableness settling in his bones, revealing itself in the way he sat up straighter. Your grip on his hands was still firm, unwavering, like all you wanted was to make him understand.

"Carmen," you called, but he was already staring at you. "Promise me that you'll let other people take care of you, help you get by. Let me help you."

He was grateful for the way he was positioned, elbows leaning on knees, hands held by yours, because it was stabilizing him, grounding him when he felt like running. He knew that if he wanted to keep you around, keep you by him, he couldn't do that. That didn't change the fact that this was new to him.

"I, um,"

"It doesn't have to all at once." You gave him a smile, a real one, because you knew he was trying. Breaking out of old habits, for you. "One step at a time."

You were back home. Him pushing you away in his head, running, but only in his mind, didn't change that. He didn't want it to. Despite the pull of his mind telling him to hold you at a distance, the push of his heart wanted you. It was drawn to the cradle of your hands, the warmth of your smile.

"I promise."

Your smile grew to a grin that tugged at the sides of your glowing eyes, eyes that sparkled with affection like they held a hidden invitation, a plea for him to let you in. He finally did, and he knew so fully that he would've made that promise to you time and time again if it meant he could have you and see that smile as much as he wanted.

Your fingers brushed the back of his hands as you stood up from where you were kneeling, letting out an exhale that he noticed sounded almost weightless, a change from the burdened way it sounded to him before. The thought put him at ease.

He stood up too, watching you as you retrieved your jacket and put it on, him feeling the urge to help you with even just that. When you focused back on him, the etches of a smile still lingering on your face, it was magnetic. He couldn't look away. You couldn't either.

You stared at the way a hundred different colors danced in the blue of his eyes, a miraculous feat that you'd loved from the start. As you looked at each other, eyes saying more than your mouths had the courage to, your smile grew slowly, heartbeat picking up in your chest.

"Let me walk you to your car," you coaxed, gesturing towards the door. He laughed at the random idea, breaths escaping through his nose.

"What? Why?"

You shrugged, smile and features and everything, warm. "Call it the first step to you fulfilling your promise to me."

Knowing how he'd iced you out, he embraced that warmth. Made it his new home. "Yeah," he nodded. "Okay."

You gestured for him to follow you, he did, and that was all he had to do. You turned off the lights behind the both of you, locked the door, and didn't ask him to do a thing, just to see the amused look on his face when you smiled at him, his eyes staring back at yours like you were a wonder, something rare to be loved and kept safe.

As you walked back to his car, that was all he could think about. How he'd come across this ray of light in his life that was you, and how you'd stayed by his side, a miraculous idea but he didn't even want to dwell on that too much because it took him away from this moment being shared between the two of you, alone, the cold nipping at your skin but it not mattering because too much had happened that night to care.

The moment seemed to come to an end all too quickly. Carmen had stopped once you'd both reached his car, and you did too. He became aware of the feeling of you next to him, savoring it because he knew it'd end the moment he got into his car.

"Carmy," you said, extending the moment just a little longer. He hummed in response, watching as you stuffed your hands in your coat pockets.

"Can you promise me one more thing?"

He nodded, not missing a beat. " Yeah, anything." Something inside of you fluttered. You cast it aside to hold his gaze.

"Promise me you'll always try and tell me what's going on in your head. No more hiding."

His eyes bore into yours like he was contemplating something, a flicker of conflict in them, a vulnerability that you didn't know what to think of. Then, it was gone and you weren't even sure you'd seen it.

"Yeah, I- um," his jaw tightened for a second. "I promise, Mars."

You patted him on the shoulder, a friendly gesture that felt phony even to you. "Great ... that's great."

He flashed a closed-mouthed smile and you both stood there on the sidewalk for a moment, not saying a word.

"Goodnight," you told him, because it was what you would've said to anyone else at that moment, ignoring the whispers in your mind telling you something was missing, that Carmen wasn't just anyone else.

Something tugged at him too, nagging him, insisting that he had more to tell you, more to say before the night was really over, before he had to go to work the next day and somehow navigate his day with the new promises he'd made you. But all he said was "Goodnight, Mars," before getting in his car with just a wave goodbye that felt bare and wrong.

You left him one more of your smiles through the passenger window of his car before walking off to wherever you'd parked your own. He was sure he'd felt butterflies. Butterflies.

Only you could do this to him. He'd felt numb, overwhelmed and unsatisfied all the same time for however long, and then you come back to Chicago and suddenly he felt everything, all the time. It was getting to him, clearly, because he found himself opening his car door and stepping out of it, losing control of his body, loosening his grip of rationality all because of you. Because he wanted to see you, needed to. He needed you.

You were a good distance away from his car by the time he'd gotten out of his, but you turned around at the sound of the car door practically slamming. You frowned, noticing Carmen walking towards you.

"Carmen?" you called into the night, confused. He caught up with you, something behind his gaze that had his eyes shimmering. You swore you could feel the delicate movement of his eyes across your face as soon as he was near enough to truly take it in.

He took hold of your hand, fingers interlocking with yours delicately, an electrifying feeling buzzing through you. You let out a small gasp at the contact, vision shooting down at the point at which you both touched, just a hand hold but the contact took your full focus.

"Hey," he said, something like a smile creeping onto his features and you'd never seen him like this, so exhilarated and full of delicate determination. You looked back up into his eyes, and he took a step closer, finally letting himself be pulled by that magnetic force calling him to you that he couldn't resist. He wouldn't, anyway.

"Wh-," you started, meaning to question him but the thought was brushed aside when he leaned inwards, his forehead falling against yours. His curls brushed against the top of your head, and you secretly loved the feeling, becoming breathless.

"You can tell me to stop, Mars." He murmured it so close to you, breath fanning onto your cheek in a distracting but addictive way, and suddenly you were forgetting how to talk. It didn't matter, because you didn't want him to stop. You looked back up at him, and he saw that in your eyes, so he didn't.

His lips brushed against yours, a taste of what he'd been wanting for longer than he could even remember. The feeling it sent throughout him was immobilizing, and he stayed like that, eyes shut, reveling in it.

It was you who closed the distance, pressing your lips to his and letting the dizzying wave from it spread all over you, to the tips of your fingers that immediately reached up to hold his firm shoulders, and to your brain that buzzed in joy and excitement and a bit of something else.

He froze up for a second when he felt your lips crashing into his. Your lips on his felt like the answers to all his problems, and he needed them in a burning, unignorable way. His brows furrowed and his hands reached up to cradle your neck delicately, holding you like you were more valuable than anything he could've bought, anything he could've wished for, could've imagined he could possibly have.

His lips tugged on yours and yours tugged back, a rhythm that felt easy to follow, like the deep thrum of a heartbeat. And when you both finally pulled apart for air, it was like you could still feel that rhythm, because your heartbeats were beating so loudly and in time with each other's that it felt like the moment was never meant to come to an end.

Your foreheads were still connected, and you knew neither of you had it in you to pull away. You felt somehow even more breathless.

"What was that for?" Your voice was soft, hoarse. You swore you saw Carmen's lip quirk upwards.

"I promised to not hide what was going on in my head." Your hands came up to delicately wrap around his biceps, impossibly solid underneath your fingertips. He didn't suppress the shudder that traveled through him. "Call that the first step."

You smiled, this time against his lips, and somehow that beat every single smile you'd ever given him before. It felt like a promise of your own, to share your warmth with him from now on. He liked the idea, a lot. He'd let you do it whenever you wanted, he liked it that much.

He'd let you take care of him whenever you wanted, too. Again and again, until you got sick of him. But he was Carmen Berzatto. You knew you never would.

[recent-rose]

heres the thing abt kairi. i don't think she's poorly written, i think she's poorly executed. like there's a conflict/lack of cohesive vision for her and they're trying to shoehorn her into a role she does not fit.

nomura, from kh1, has clearly always wanted kairi to remain a link to the past/manifestation of fond memories of childhood/like a bittersweet hometown that isn't quite the same when you come back as an adult. that's the role he has consistently, persistently assigned to her. and there's nothing wrong with that. not every character ever has to take an active role and be a hero and do Things. sometimes characters exist to embody an allegory, or symbolism, or an idea. that was kairi, initially. embodiment of home, safety, comfort, childhood. for that matter, riku was the future, the unknown, growing up and letting childhood go. sora, of course, a boy coming of age and being torn between the two.

so consequently i've never understand the choice to make her a keyblade wielder when she's already a princess of heart twice over. like it or not the princesses of heart have an established role in the story and it's not fighting on the front lines. she could have been a leader and taken an active role in her own way if they really wanted, without ever needing to hold a keyblade and be a Chosen One, Also!(tm). in this way she also would have maintained a cohesive narrative role in the story. her path would still be diverging from sora's, and it would be as bittersweet and nostalgic as it was in kh1 without the clownery than her involvement in endgame kh2 onward has been mired in.

what clownery, you ask? kairi literally cannot grow as a person while in sora's orbit. we've seen it happen again and again, any growth she gets is away from sora and any time she's near him she regresses as a character. this is because, again, she is absolutely cemented in the minds of the writers as The Nostalgic Past that sora is holding onto. in the context of the kh narrative, she can literally be nothing else to him. there's no more growth to be had between them. hence, every time their relationship ends up the focus in a scene you can't help but feel the rapidly growing distance between where they once were vs where they now are as individuals. this relationship can, imo, ONLY be regressive to both of them in the context of kh's overarching narrative where kairi is constantly (and overtly) being framed as Sora's Idealized Childhood. or, as a prize he 'wins' when the story ends. the two are fairly connected in kh.

back on track, having kairi remain a princess of heart and not a keyblade wielder also would've solved the problem of the writing team having to shelve/fridge her every time they want riku+sora to go on another romantic getawa - uhhh adventure together. like she was asleep for a year post kh3? and now she's going to train with aqua while riku goes to rescue the love of his l - i mean bestest best boy friend again? you're joking.

it just stinks of trying to girlbossify a character so she can 'keep up' with her male counterparts in the eyes of media illiterate consumers who associate a lack of a weapon with a lack of power. dawg we're past that. female characters can be relevant, important, interesting and powerful without following in the exact footsteps of their male counterparts. and this is to say nothing of kairi's keyblade bequeathing being a relative accident and how it creates a pretty glaring plot hole because somehow xion and roxas, sora's nobodies, can wield keyblades at will but namine can't? okay. yes, perhaps we just haven't been 'shown' her wielding a keyblade. maybe. but i think it seriously indicates that they had no intention of making kairi a keyblade wielder in the first place.

and don't get me wrong, if they intended on changing/overhauling her role going forward i would understand making her not just a wielder but a guardian of light. problem is, they have already established she's not going to be fighting/active in the next game. she is, yet again, the home they are returning to and not the future they're moving towards. this, consequently, will continue causing some major tonal dissonance among those who either consciously or unconsciously recognize that kairi is not meant to be where she is currently placed in the narrative. she's SHOWN to be just a regular girl who still to this day does not particularly want to go adventuring, and yet we're TOLD again and again that she's a warrior now, riding on sora and riku's coattails regrettably. it's just so tonally off.

[luvjunie]

hiii!!!

i was wondering if you can do some miles earth 1610 and earth 42 miles head canons if they were your older brother??

btw I love ur work <333

in which miles is your older brother and your favorite hobby is annoying the shit out of him

the brief mention of Jeff can be present or past, meaning this can be interpreted as 1610 or 42. don’t think it needs to be mentioned but y’all are siblings in this au so it’s obviously platonic lmfao

“Miles!” you sang delightfully on your way to his room, nearly skipping with the excitement of aggravating your older sibling. “Dear, sweet ‘ole brother of mine~”

“Nope, leave me alone.”

His voice, sounding just a tad deeper than it did last week, echoed from down the hall as you approached.

Miles was already up from his bed and on the way to close his door, but you somehow beat him there and leaned your shoulder against the frame. A proposition was eminent in your demeanor, and it made his top lip turn up in distaste.

“Hey Milesy. What’s up?”

He crossed his arms. “You stopped calling me that when you were six.”

Perhaps you were laying it on a little thick, but you’d already gotten this far, so you played on.

“And? Maybe… I’m feeling… nostalgic.” you shrugged.

“Spell nostalgic.” He challenged smugly.

“Anyways!” You abruptly changed the subject with a cheeky grin, the dissimilarity in your expressions comical. “Wanna do me a teeny-tiny favor?”

He couldn’t have shot you down faster.

“Absolutely not. I’d rather use the bathroom after Dad.”

You cringed at the thought. Was he that unwilling?

“Why not?”

“Are you crazy?” Miles gawked. “I got my door taken off the hinges the last time you asked for a ‘teeny-tiny favor’,” he quoted the words with his fingers. “Get somebody else to do it—“

“Wait!” You foiled his sudden attempt to shut his door by using your right foot to stop it— the foot in question, currently clad in a fuzzy, christmas themed sock.

It was the middle of April. But that wasn’t important.

Miles’ hazel eyes agitatedly narrowed at you between the small gap you’d managed to keep open. You both knew he could easily close his door if he really tried, but he didn’t want to hurt you. Though he was considering it.

“Pleaaaseee?” Hands clasped to accompany your begging, you whined at him in a tone that made him grimace.

“Y/n, what did I just say?” He grumbled. “No escuchas. (you don’t listen). It’s like you were born without ears or something.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you for!”

He shook his head, “I don’t need to!Knowing you, it’s something stupid.”

Making his way to the kitchen, Miles immediately recognized the scent on the hoodie you were wearing when he brushed past your shoulder.

It was the one you’d bought him last year as a birthday gift. He hadn’t noticed it was missing until now, and after it being in your possession for God knows how long, the remnants of his cologne were now drowned out by some tooty-fruity ass body spritz that had his head hurting.

“And stop wearing my clothes, dude. You always give ‘em back smelling like Victoria Body Works and argon oil. That’s if you even give them back.”

Yeah, ‘Victoria Body Works’ was definitely not a thing.

Hot on his heels like a cold that medicine just couldn’t kick, your brows pinched together while you accompanied him through the empty apartment on what you assumed was a search for food.

“It’s Victoria’s secret, dumbass. This how I know you ain’t got hoes.”

“Who?” Miles quirked a brow as he sifted through the snack cupboard for a box of something to demolish in an hour.

“You-“

“—Asked. Bozo.”

“Wow,” you scoffed, a deadpan look on your face when you went to rest your elbows on the granite counter top. “You’re actually ancient.”

Miles was only two years your senior, but he acted like an old head, and that was probably the fault of your Uncle Aaron. He’d spent more time with that man than he did in his own room, which was shocking to say the least.

Miles’ eyes lit up when he discovered a hidden gem tucked into a back corner. “Yo, you gonna eat these honeybuns?”

“You gonna do me a favor?” you shot back, head tilted with the confidence of your incredible advantage over him.

Miles kissed his teeth. He had an immense sweet tooth, and you of all people knew he could never deny sugar.

“Dude, this same box has been sitting in here since last month. Which I know personally, because mom sent me out to get them. Meaning your tubby-ass forgot about these at least two weeks ago!”

Your jaw dropped in shock. “I am not tubby!”

“Tubby is a mindset. Now can I have ‘em or nah?”

You paused to think. “Depends.”

“On?” he encouraged impatiently as you toyed with the hemming of your sleeve.

“When asked where I’m at, around…Let’s say,” you chewed on your thoughts. “Six pm tomorrow— and I know you’ll be asked— say I’m at Isabella’s.”

Miles gave you a skeptical look. “And where are you really gonna be?”

He doubted he wanted to know the specifics on why he needed to lie for you, but he thought to ask anyway. You were his little sister after all, at least one person needed to know where you were.

“Nunya.” you mumbled.

“It’s a boy, isn’t it?” Miles squinted, fingers pinching either side of the honey bun’s plastic in preparation to open it.

Rolling your lips under your teeth, you awkwardly shifted your position so your back was leaned on the counter instead, and spoke cautiously as you ogled the lifting of a few floorboards.

“Maybe… But we’re just gonna-“

“Alright, alright. I got you. I’on need details.” Miles scooped the entire box of his well-earned treats into the cradle of his arm, then reached the other over your head to close all the cupboards he’d previously opened.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You stole the opportunity to trap Miles in a quick hug, tightly squeezing your arms around his torso on purpose because you knew how much it annoyed him. He never did grow out of being ticklish.

“Yeah, yeah. Move,” voice muffled as he was mid-bite, Miles separated you from him with two, rudely-stiff fingers to the middle of your forehead, then started back to the room he rarely left, somehow grabbing the entire jug of apple juice off the counter on his way.

He called out to you without turning back around.

“But if you not back by 9, I swear I’m snitching. I need my door, trust.”

Your face screwed into one of disgust at the implication. “Ewww bro, you’re gross!”

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: the day I don’t write about a sunshine!reader is the day one of you needs to action a welfare check on me bc I bawled my eyes out writing this angsty shit fr

warning: mentions of Maeve (rip queen x)

A Chance

It was strange, getting to know someone through the words of friends, before being able to actually meet that person. The board had requested you transfer to the BAU while Spencer was in prison, and you were only ever meant to be there as a placeholder of sorts, to lend your expertise to the team that struggled in their dear friend’s absence. It was a temporary arrangement, but from the moment Emily Prentiss referenced you to Spencer during a visit to him in prison, he could see in her eyes that your presence had already proven itself invaluable. 

The tales she told him of you were silly things that made him laugh, and that was something he had long forgotten how to do. Spencer had no idea what you looked like, because you had insisted that you didn’t want to take a visitation slot from someone that he knew; a notion Emily had passed on to him when he had asked, and his sombre heart had ached from beneath the rubble in his chest, the ruins that once housed a heart of gold. He had no way of picturing you, but he did, he tried. Hearing the jokes you had told the team through Emily, seeing the enjoyment you brought to his friends simply by talking about you, hearing of your efforts to bring smiles to everyone on the team like it was second nature for you. In every way, you made it clear you had no intention of taking Spencer’s place, you were only there to take care of those he loved by making them laugh again, and somehow, that endless stream of kindness reached Spencer, too. Flowing through prison bars, through tense muscles, to the cold, grey, shattered fragments of his heart.

On the day of his release, you had conducted the team in arranging a surprise party for him at the office, just a small get-together for him and his closest friends, who you understood were his family. Your efforts did not go unnoticed to the genius, and neither did the absence of you, amongst his friends. 

“Is (Y/N) here?” Spencer had asked.

And David Rossi had shaken his head with a fond smile. “No, she insisted she didn’t want to impose or put you in the position of having to meet someone new, so she’s at home, but she’ll be back in tomorrow.”

You had done it again, without even being there to do it. You had single-handedly reached into Spencer’s chest and lifted those fragments out of the rubble, dusting them off and setting them down gently atop the rubble, letting the sun shine on his heart again.

The next day, Spencer had arrived early at the office for a multitude of reasons. To sit at his desk in the silence of the morning, with nobody around, just to feel back where he belonged, the serenity of it; that was one of the reasons. And as he sat, contemplating that very notion, another reason for his early arrival stepped into the office. Though he had never seen you before, Spencer’s heart recognised you immediately, and he stood from his desk, the softest smile on his face as he watched you. It took you several seconds to acknowledge his presence, what with your big headphones covering your ears and a large pile of boxes in your arms. Spencer watched you like you were a silent film, an enchanting and nostalgic wonder that he had never been lucky enough to lay his eyes on before. It was only when you had set your things down and turned to his desk, with just one large box in your arms, that your eyes widened. And Spencer continued to watch as the brightest smile he had ever seen blossomed on your face, like the first flower he’d seen after a year-long winter. 

“Spencer! Hello!” You greeted him cheerfully, removing your headphones. “These are for you! Emily said that you liked ones with chocolate frosting and sprinkles best?” You had asked, setting the large box down on his desk in front of him.

He stared down at it, and you, in absolute wonder. How could you possibly be real?

“(Y/N)...” Spencer spoke your name to you for the first time, having rehearsed it and played around with the way it sounded in his mind during particularly lonely nights in his cell, but finding that it sounded different when he said it to you. 

“I can’t thank you enough. For this, for the party yesterday, for the happiness you’ve brought the team- thank you.” Spencer said, his voice as gentle as he could make it, afraid that the slightest of harsh tones could shatter the fragile ray of sunshine that stood before him.

“Oh, that’s alright! You don’t need to thank me, not for any of it, the team have all been so welcoming to me, and they talk about you all the time, you know.” You beamed up at him.

“They do?” Spencer asked, his words unexpectedly shy. 

You nodded fervently. “Everyday, they had a new tale to tell me about you, a new fact to share that they learned from you- honestly, I feel like I was getting to know you before I’d even met you!” The chuckle that passed your lips was that of an angel.

You had been getting to know him in the same way he had been getting to know you. What did you think of the things you heard? Did you think of him as often as he thought of you? Were you as curious about him? Did thoughts of him make you smile, in the way thoughts of you made him, when he would walk back to his cell after a visit from Emily? 

A lump formed in Spencer’s throat. How different is he now, to the person you were getting to know? Will prison have made him unrecognizable to you, too? 

But as he gazed down at you and searched your eyes, unable to find a single shred of judgment, or fear, he felt hope. A glimmer, a spark, beneath the rubble.

“Emily’s been telling me about you, too.” He managed to reply, his voice quiet in a way he hoped you wouldn’t address.

“All good things, I hope!” You chuckled again, busying yourself at your desk and looking over your shoulder at him. 

It felt normal. Like a conversation between two old friends. Spencer felt comfortable, for the first time since…even his eidetic memory faltered in recalling. 

“All good things.” He assured you, a smile playing on his lips and in his chest.

Somehow, it came as a surprise to you when the team requested you join the team permanently. You had enjoyed your time with them tremendously, but you had never suspected they enjoyed you just as much, enough to ask you to stay. They had waited to ask you, wanting Spencer to meet you first and give his verdict. He couldn’t form his thoughts into coherent strings of sentences, but the smile on his face after meeting you told the team that he shared their resounding 'yes'. 

And when he saw the way you lit up, the happy tears in your eyes as the team asked you if you’d consider making your position permanent, Spencer grinned. Your tearful eyes landed on him, sensing that he had agreed to ask you to stay, and that one thought made the tears in your eyes cascade down your cheeks.

“Thank you.” You had blubbered, gaze traveling across each and every member of the team, but lingering on Spencer in a way that made him question whether his IQ points were evaporating, leaving his head emptier, his mind happier, with the simple joy of you, smiling at him like that.

With your place on the team set in stone, you all began working on cases together, quickly discovering that your true place was at Spencer’s side, much to his delight and dismay in equal measure. You made him smile like nobody else, made him feel normal, seen, for who he was, who he could be as long as you were around to encourage a side of him he had learned to keep well hidden, to protect himself. Even his mother, on his first visit to her since getting out of prison, had commented that he seemed so much more himself. How had you reminded him of who he was, when you had not known who he was before? Spencer felt selfish for collecting your smiles, treasuring them all to himself. He wondered if he had any right to make you smile at all. He was unworthy of causing a smile like yours. And there was guilt, so much guilt, the moment you were out of sight and he became excruciatingly aware of just how much more you deserved. An angel like you, walking on hot coals beside him, burning the soles of your feet but still smiling up at him like he’s worth it. 

Tonight, the pain is worse. To celebrate a particularly gruelling case being solved, you suggested a garden party at your house, and Spencer had been the very first person you asked to attend. As if he needed any further proof to his ongoing theory of it being physically impossible for him to ever deny you of anything. And here he stands, in your garden, nursing a drink and watching you just as he did the first time he saw you. There is music playing, and you are aware of his presence, but you are still the same vision to him, all sound fading until you are that same silent film. Until your laugh breaks the barrier; a sound he is certain could reach his ears from miles away. Through any sea of other voices, he can pinpoint yours. 

He is nothing more than a shadow, standing alone, a few feet away from everyone else, on the outside of their bubble but peering in just to torture himself. The smiles on his friends faces, on yours, as you all dance around together, dressed to the nines and laughing like it’s the silliest joy you’ve ever known. Spencer looks at the perfect image before him until he can bear it no longer, and he sets his drink down on the nearest table. Enough, he thinks to himself. 

Nobody notices when a shadow slowly fades out of view. 

He walks through your home, towards the front door, the scent of your perfume trying to persuade him to stay. The trinkets on your shelves, the art on your walls, every single thing exuding you in the most beautiful way; he knows he could stand right here, in your hallway, just drinking you in until he died of old age, but he keeps walking. Shoes heavy, legs of lead, he trudges out of your front door and onto the street, under the same stars as you and feeling the weight of how little he deserves to share such a thing. 

Every step further away from where you are kills him just a little more. He wonders how far he’ll make it, whether he’ll manage to reach the sea before he sinks to his knees and lets himself wither away entirely, the force of you no longer binding his atoms and holding him to this Earth; an echo that you have been selfless enough to maintain, no matter the cost to you. The cost, Spencer is sure, has been insurmountable. How can it not have been? A burden as heavy as him, a stain you can’t wash out of your life that somehow exacerbates every time you check in on it, a husk that you remind how to live, simply by existing. 

Seven steps from your front door, his legs start to falter, wobbling beneath him under the weight of the crime he has committed and the sentence he serves now, for stringing you along like he’s ever been worthy of walking the same ground. His trembling hands grip garden fences as he forces himself onwards, away, away.

“Spencer?”

A vision, a mirage, the perfect and only balm to restore his strength enough to stand up straight. Thank you, thank you, his mind spins, continuing to walk until your footsteps reach his ears.

“Where are we going?” 

And there it is, that smile, looking up at him like you can fix everything in his world, and you have. Again. 

He can’t tell you, he can’t possibly speak such heartbreaking thoughts aloud. He can’t do anything that’ll cause your smile to even falter, not now, when his heart breathes to life and rises from the rubble, reaching for you.

“Just…needed some air.” Spencer’s voice is hoarse, and he can tell from the look in your eyes that you see right through him, see that something is wrong, but you don’t pry. 

Instead, you do what feels right to you.

For the first time, you slip your hand into Spencer’s and squeeze it, so gently. His hand all but engulfs yours, but he can feel every inch of your skin that touches his, and his heart soars. 

“Okay, you wanna walk round the block?” You ask, your words casual, gentle, and holding no judgement, like always.

Spencer can only nod, his IQ reduced to zero because you are holding his hand and he cannot possibly think about anything else. 

Taking his agreement, you start walking, and he walks in step beside you. On the same ground, under the same night sky, in a silent film that he feels he is a part of now. 

For a few minutes, neither of you say anything. Only casting shy smiles at each other every so often, until you decide to speak words that alter Spencer’s very brain chemistry.

“You know, you’ve become my favorite person in the world.” Your voice is quiet, almost bashful, in a way he has never heard you speak before.

Spencer frowns, his eyebrows knitted together by the confusion and bliss that swirls within him in a perfect storm, but your hand is still holding his, so he is still incapable of speaking. 

“Every new thing I come to learn about you, I adore more than the last.” You continue. “And I didn’t know what to do with that, at first, because I didn’t want to drop my feelings on you and give you no choice but to address them, I didn’t think that would be fair. So I’ve thought about it, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s okay.” You smile up at him in a way that makes his heart splutter frantically. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, because even if you don’t, I’ll still adore you just as much, and I’ll help you find the person that you come to adore in that way.” The sincerity in your eyes very nearly breaks Spencer in two, and he stops walking.

He is at an agonizing crossroads. His eidetic memory forces him to relive his tragic romantic history, from the date he asked JJ on that she invited Penelope to, to the worst day of his life, when the only girl he thought that would ever love him, was murdered right in front of him. Maeve. He never even got to hold her hand like this, say the words he’d always wanted to, thank her for giving him the chance, for letting him love her until her last moments, and beyond that. 

Tears gather in Spencer’s eyes as he looks down at you and thinks of Maeve. He had always thought that she was it, that she was his one and only chance at love, at a family, at the life he had always dreamed of, and that was out of his reach because she was. But as he gazes down at you, feels your hand squeeze his again in a way he never got to feel with Maeve, he realizes that this is different, that he is different. There is no way to know how his life would differ if he had not lost Maeve, how long they would have lasted, if at all; he stopped plaguing himself with the what-ifs long ago, settling with the agony that it was his fault, that he deserved to suffer, and he deserved to do so alone. 

But you are here. Right here. 

Smiling up at him like he’s worth more than he feels he is, pouring your heart out to him and not expecting anything in return, just wanting him to know that you adore him, because that’s who you are. And he is the person you adore. He is not without love, he is not a lost cause, his fate is not sealed. 

You are here, with Spencer, because you have chosen to be. You adore him as he is now, and he doesn’t even know who that is, but he doesn’t care anymore, because as long as you adore him, he’s okay with that. 

The tears gathering in his eyes break past the barriers and slip down his stubbled cheeks, a small smile curling at his lips, before it blossoms just as yours did the first time you saw him, into a grin, and then a quiet laugh. He looks up at the stars and takes a moment to thank them for allowing him to stay here with you, and then he takes hold of your other hand, holding both of your smaller ones in his. 

“You’ll have to give me time to formulate my thoughts into words, but for now, let me just say that I…” Spencer takes a deep breath, blinking back the tears that dare blur his perfect vision of you, and then he sighs, shaking his head. “Adore isn’t a strong enough word.” He smiles down at you. “I’m enchanted by you, and I’d be willing to challenge any belief that tries to advise me against worshipping you.”

The chuckle that passes your lips as your eyes glaze over is the most beautiful sound Spencer has ever heard, and he is definitely not biased, because he absolutely has not thought that every time he’s heard you laugh.

“Very profound, Doctor Reid.” You muse. “So, where does that leave us?”

The smile on Spencer’s face is dazed, lost in the dream of you. The stars shine above and the ground sighs below, the universe relieved to have finally guided the two of you to where you were always intended to be. 

Your question is a good one - an excellent one, Spencer would argue, solely because you were the one to ask it - and it takes several seconds for his whirring mind to piece together the words to correctly phrase the sentiment he feels deep within the heart that you have taken the time to intricately piece back together with the same gentle hands that hold his now. Eventually, though, the words find him, and he parts his smile to let that same heart speak to you.

“I honestly don’t know, but anywhere that you are, is where I want to be.”

[sanspuppet]

Stranger!Yunho x afab!reader

Summary: weeks after breaking up with your ex, you finally try to enjoy yourself and spend the evening at a club. There, a tall, handsome man approaches you… thanks to him you have the best night you’ve ever had in your entire life.

W/T: alcohol, quick foreplay (in public), hotel sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, big dick Yunho cuz it’s him c’mon

please reblog if you enjoyed :3

- not already proofread

Your body shivered at the feel of the freezing wind, you tried to keep your warmth by crossing your arms around your waist. Wearing a short dress on a cold night of autumn wasn’t a good idea after all… You pulled the door of the club, the smell of alcohol instantly hit your nostrils, it passed so much time since you’ve smelled it, and somehow was nostalgic, too. You took off your leather jacket and layed it out on the stool, before sitting on it.

When the bartender handed you the drink you ordered, you took a long sip, squeezing your throat at the burning feel of the high alcohol degree.

“I hope getting drunk will help me forget all this shit” Even though it was supposed to be whispered to yourself, the loud lounge music tricked you ears, making you say it out loud.

“Forget what, Miss? Wanna share your story? Seems that both of us have came alone here.” You turned your head towards the voice, your eyes widened at the sight of a tall, handsome man approaching you. He sat down next to you, ordering quickly a drink before having all of his attention back to you.

“What’s your name, beautiful lady?”

“Uhm… y/n” He smiled, you shook hands.

“Mine’s Yunho, Jeong Yunho. So, what’s going on?”

Honestly, talking to a man was the last thing you wanted to do, maybe having sex with someone should have helped but you haven’t thought about having to approach them first.

“I broke up with my boyfriend, i mean…ex now.”

His mouth hung open slightly, not sure what to reply.

“Oh, i’m so sorry… should i leave you alone then? It must be painful for you” He brought his hands on the counter, ready to stand up.

“Nah… he’s a dumbass. Actually i’m happy to not see him anymore, i’m just… kinda annoyed.”

His hands slipped off the marble, resting then on his lap. He giggled, before taking another sip of his drink. You talked for what seemed to be a couple hours, telling short stories about your lives, until your cheeks became red after all the drinks and you were a laughing mess.

“Y/n, you’re such a nice person… and very good looking”If it wasn’t already for the all the amount of alcohol in your body, you’d have surely blushed, because somehow that man attracted you, in all the ways possible. “What a blessing that you’re not taken, no longer at least.” He sighed, turning his head away from you. “But i imagine you have no intention of spending the rest of your night together, neither saving my phone number, having just broke up with your ex”

Fuck.

“What do you mean for the rest of the night?” You leaned forward to see his face better.

“Oh… uhm, never mind.” He shook his head, as if he wanted to throw away his previous thought.

“If you mean by sleeping together, i’m up for it. But we seriously need to call for an Uber after all the tequila we’ve drank.” you giggled, barely standing up straight.

“Yeah i agree, my place?” The man walks behind you, grabbing softly your waist to help you walking.

“I-i don’t know, maybe it’s better if we book an hotel room. You get what i mean.”

He was still a stranger after all.

You squeeze yourself against his warm body as soon as you left the local, the night breeze froze your cheeks, which he cupped in between his hands. “Can i kiss you?”

You didn’t even know why your body reacted a little too critically to him, your legs went shut, your core felt like burning, internally melting at the image of you kissing each other. You leaned forward and planted your lips on his, the warmth of his breath and his arms wrapped around your waist got butterflies in your stomach, this man had a whole new effect on you.

The kiss started a little shyly and hesitantly, but it didn’t took long before you two were tongues deep into your mouths, biting softly on the other’s lips. It was passionate yet still had a hint of neediness from the both of you. The tall man pulled away once he noticed the white car waiting for someone in front of you two.

“Pretty, we’ll have time later to kiss. The uber’s here”

You nodded, moving his hand away from your cheek before carding your fingers through it. He opened the car door for you to enter first, then joined you in after a few seconds. You asked for the nearest hotel, then called the reception to book a room. The journey lasted about 20 minutes, in the first half the mood was pretty tense, the driver turned on the radio to cut off the embarrassing silence. Yunho turned his head to look at your side profile, you were so fucking cute but so damn fuckable. His hand was resting on the seat, before doing so on your inner thigh instead. You had a pretty tight dress and your ass was barely covered, he could feel the warmth of your skin, the hotness of his palm near your weakest core was about to drive you crazy. He got closer to you ear, enough for you to hear what he was whispering despite the loud music:

“What are your intentions for later, beautiful?”

His hand was dangerously close to your cunt, you could already feel a wet slick inside your panties. How could he turn you on with just a light touch? Was it the alcohol? Well, however, you were now sure that the only thing you’d want him to do to you once you get to be alone is to fuck all the stress out of your body.

“Yunho, we already know, right?” You moved your hand under his chin, your noses were a mere inch distant, he could feel your unstable breath, struggling already to contain yourself.

“I want to be sure about that, say it. Let me hear you say it, gorgeous.” his grip on your inner thigh got tighter, his eyes were sparkling with the lush lights coming from the palaces of your city.

“I want you to fuck with me, how about this?” The other hand that wasn’t occupied, quickly ran onto his lap until you were palming the bulge on his pants.

“Fuck” you whispered, more to yourself.

“Shush… i know i’m pretty big, but also pretty impatient.” He forced you to stay still, pressing your shoulders against the backrest. “I need to prep you, now. So as soon as we enter the bedroom i can fuck you with my huge cock” He rubbed your plush lips with his thumb. “You have to be quiet though, can you do it for me?”

“Yeah… yes, Yunho”

“Good girl, i’ll use two fingers. Be ready.”

His slender finger sinked into your panties, rubbing instantly against your aroused bud. It was hard to hold back any whimper, because fuck if time had passed from the last time you felt like this. Yunho was close to your ear, sweet praises were leaking out of his plump lips as he started to rub faster. “Mmh just like that, don’t make any sound or the driver will know how much of a needy slut you are.” You bit your cheeks, forcing you to keep your mouth shut. On the other side, you were trying to spread your legs as wide as possible for his big hand to dive better into your soaked hole. You rolled your eyes back when the two long fingers slided between your folds, pushing them deeper with every little thrust “What a warm and wet pussy… can’t wait to have my dick inside you.” The more he talked dirty to you, the more you felt intimate. His fingers were stretching you out so perfectly that if he would have had better access, he would surely reach your g-spot. “Yes baby, take it… a few more minutes and we’ll arrive. Don’t cum, i want you to do so on my cock, got it?” You nodded quietly, biting forcefully on your lip. After less than a dozen of seconds your legs started to shake slightly, the knot inside your stomach intensified as Yunho’s fingertips were rubbing every sweet spot of your walls. “Y-Yunho… pull out- or else ‘m gonna cum-“

The radio turned off. “Here we are. It’s $70”

Yunho slided out of you at light speed, searching for his wallet. He handed the money to the driver, before motioning you to get out. You could barely stand on your jelly legs, still trying to recover from the previous mind blowing stimulation.

It took you a few minutes to reach the door of your room, his hand never left your waist, gripping at it tightly because of the rush that kept flowing in his veins. Your chest expanded widely with each heavy breath, your heartbeat was racing at a seemingly racing pace. He opened it quickly, running towards the bed as he threw you on it. He pinned your wrists above your head with just on hand, the other one dived back into your panties, giving a quick rub to your clit before tugging on the fabric of your underwear and drugging it off your body.

“Fuck… i need this pussy so bad.” he murmured while watching the tension of his pants between his legs. He then looked at you with hooded eyes. “i don’t have condoms here with me, darling. Dammit i just remembered it, but i’m clean.” You giggled at his frustrated look. “Don’t worry, i am on a birth control.”

Yunho smirked at you, he immediately hooked up your dress. His hands groped every part of your soft body, before focusing particularly on your breast. He seemed on the verge of drooling from just the sight of them.

“Fuck… those are some perfect tits. You’re almost too pretty to be ruined by my big dick…. almost” He sucked on your hard nipple, tugging at the other one at the same time. His tongue swirled around the hot bud, his bulge was becoming painful as he kept getting harder with every moan escaping your mouth.

“Mmmh i wish i could fuck them… maybe later. Now i need you go on all fours for me, gotta fuck your pretty cunt first.”

You immediately turned around, burying your face in the soft mattress as you raised your ass up. The night lights coming from the big window were accentuating the wetness leaking out of your folds.

“So pretty and ready for me.” You heard him unzipping his jeans from behind, then unbuttoning his shirt. A few seconds after hearing the sound of the belt hitting harshly the floor, you felt his warm tip brushing against the entrance of your throbbing hole.

“Good… now take it, i know you can do it.”

“F-fuck! Y-Yunho!” You moaned loudly when his cock slided inside of you. Despite your pussy was a literal river from how wet you were, his girthy length was painful to take for the first seconds. You unconsciously grabbed your ass, moving your cheeks apart and widening your legs more, trying helplessly to give him more space inside you.

“You’re doing great baby, taking me so well…” he waited a few seconds for you to adjust yourself to his hugeness. When he felt like you were ready, he leaned over your back, and sucked on your earlob. “Mmh… so tight, i love it. ‘M gonna start fucking you now. Are you ready babe?”

“Y-yes… Fuck! So big…”

You couldn’t help but moan with every single twitch and stroke of his dick. His hands were groping at your ass, forcing your hips to stay still while he pushed himself even deeper. “Good girl, just like that. I need to go faster” As he said that, he was now completely sank into your pussy, his cockhead hit pleasantly your g-spot, making you yelp out. His hips started to move backwards and forth, sliding continuously his length into you. You mewled out loud with every thrust, the pleasure became more powerful with the seconds passing.

“Yeah? Right there baby? Feels good? I bet it feels amazing…ah” his low groans were music to your ears, the intense knot was building up again in your stomach as he started to fuck you even faster.

“Y-Yunho- please… fuck!” By now you didn’t even know what you were begging for, you were mumbling incoherent words as your mind went quickly blank with every pound.

“Yes pretty, i know you want to cum… i’m close. Will you take all of my precious sperm inside your wet little pussy?” His thrusts grew more decisive but still became sloppier than before. You were about to reach your orgasm, you felt it so close… you just needed that little more friction and you were sure that you would experience pure abyss of pleasure, something that could never feel more amazing and arousing. He knew that, he could tell it. His thumb pressed quickly against your clit, rubbing it in fast circles, enough for your climax to hit you after a few seconds.

Your lower body felt like falling, Yunho quickly grabbed your waist, keeping you still. A tight squeeze of yours around his dick and you got him over the edge. His cum was leaking out of your folds as they were already filled by his huge length.

“Fuck… i wish you could look at you right now. So beautifully fucked out and bred with my babies.”

He layed next to you, a hand caressing softly your bare back and drawing invisible lines with his fingertips. Without even realizing it you both collapsed in a deep sleep, locked in each other’s arms.

[h-worksrambles]

Sonic X Shadow Generations fascinates me. Because it feels like something I shouldn’t be excited for. And yet I absolutely am.

Don’t get me wrong. I love Sonic Generations. It’s my third favourite game in the series and my favourite 3D Sonic game (with Sonic Adventure 2 in a close second). I’m very happy to see it getting a re release to expose it to new audiences, and playing it in 4K60fps on my PS5 is a very enticing. Likewise, I really like Shadow as a character and I’m excited to play as him again.

And yet, his new bonus campaign promises to basically be a bunch of nostalgic pandering for Shadow the Hedgehog, a game which I consider to be, simply put, crap. It was boring, dull, colourless and embarrassing trend chasing. And pretty much everything I hated about it is on display in this trailer.

We’ve got gritty, grey cityscapes, we’ve got the rather blah alien villain, Black Doom returning, we’ve got the looming return of the series’…bafflingly executed lore. In a word, Shadow was a pretty much everything I didn’t want Sonic to be shoved into a blender. I’ve given my thoughts on revisiting past excesses and failures for the sake of nostalgia. I wrote a whole thing about Final Fantasy VII Rebirth and my fears that it would go overboard pandering to the 2000s spin offs (which I dislike a for lot of the same reasons as a lot of Sonic stuff from the mid 2000s). A faux attempt at maturity that sacrifices Sonic’s camp and colour, and lacks the writing competency to make its tone shift work is pretty much my worst case scenario for the series. And now we’re invoking that for nostalgia? Again, I should hate this.

So if I dislike Shadow the Hedgehog so much. If it really is so emblematic of Sonic’s worst excesses that I want it to leave behind in the 2000s…then why am I so damn hyped for this? Why am I not feeling the same dread as whenever VII Remake implicitly threatens to bring back Genesis?

I think it’s because of the specific relationship Sonic has had with its past for the last decade. So much of the stuff from that time period is material that Sega has seemed actively scared to touch again. Sometimes with good reason. But I think that’s why some material from that time has gained such a strong nostalgic cult following, and why they’re held up as such bastions of missed potential. There’s never been anything quite like Shadow or 06 since they came out with how safe Sega has subsequently played things. And in many respects, that’s a good thing. But I can see how it build a sense of mystique around them. It was kind of sad to see 2010s Sonic so…scared of itself. Terrified to invoke its own history but not really committed to a new direction either. And this is pretty much the exact opposite of that hesitancy.

Basically, the reason I react to seeing Westopolis or Black Doom with ‘holy shit let’s go!!!’ rather than ‘why, god, why?’ is because I genuinely never thought I would see them again after this long. It’s just exciting to see Sonic Team throw caution to the wind and embrace all the parts of their franchise. Even the parts I personally dislike. Plus, Sonic Generations is kind of the perfect game in which to reimagine that stuff and make it..actually good this time. This was the game that made Crisis City of all things into a banger level. The game that took Silver, one of the most notorious boss fights in the series, and gave him a kickass encounter.

If they can fix that, they can do anything.

Plus, the fact that the trailers already show all these trippy stage effects and anime af boss fights and set pieces tells me we’re not just gonna be running through the same drab washed out burning cities that made Shadow 2005 so boring. Again, there’s evidently an effort being made to rehabilitate and reimagine this stuff, not just repeat all the same mistakes. And that’s exciting.

So yeah, Sonic X Shadow Generations has somehow managed to get me genuinely excited for all the parts of the series I typically balk at. And that’s pretty impressive.

That said, if I see Mephiles again, I’m leaving.