Carmen Berzatto x reader
Summary - Dating your brothers... best friend, and boss was a bit of head scratcher; however, you can't help who you love. Especially when his name is Carmen Berzatto.
Carmen Berzatto was a sweetheart, under layers and layers of emotional constipation and trying to bottle everything in. But he was still a sweetheart.
You started dating Carmy, pre- Richies 'I wear suits now' era and to say he blew up was an understatement. Steam could've come out his damn ears like a cartoon character.
The pair of you considered keeping it under wraps but, considering the pressure Carmy was already under you didn't think it'd be right to. It was a summer night when you told Richie, the sun soft after a day of sandwich making, the beef was in shambles - fuck, everything was in shambles.
Richie scoffed, leaning back his beer still clutched in his hands. "The fuck!? No-no, genuinely what the fuck!" He grunted brows pinched together. Carmens own frustration bubbled, mirroring Richies reaction as his shoulders curled upto his chin.
"That's your fucking cousin dude!" He exlaimed, lips curled in a disgust like expression. Carmen snapped back, "How the- 's bullshit!" He stammered, throat bobbing with anger. "Were not actually fucking related! Your an idiot!"
Yeah, it really didn't go well. Something was shouting about Tiffany, and then something about how Carmen couldn't get laid. It was a hot, hot mess. But then he changed. The Beef turnt to The Bear and Richie wears suits. It was a quick change, almost overnight. Time seemed to heal Richies and Carmys relationship, realistically neither of them were good at talking about feelings.
--
You were lounging in your apartment, a day of work finished as you scrolled through Netflix. Carmy was laid beside you, drawing in a notebook - future recipe plans, or stuff he wanted to make. He was still trying to work out exactly what he wanted to offer at The Bear, he just wanted it to be perfect. The key to your door turnt and you sighed, a genuine exhale of air.
You gave Richie a key when you first moved in, just incase. Mostly to take the dog out when your on holiday. Duke loves Richie and you do to... just not whenever he 'felt' like it.
He bounds in, giving you a sharp nod. "Sup, loser." He said to you, and you only. "What do you even want?"
He walked into the kitchen, shrugging off his jacket as he goes through your fridge. You sit up with a groan, bare feet padding over to him. "Why're you here?" You grunted leaning against the counter, Carmy staying in the living room, quiet.
"Think the dog wants food." Richie smiles looking down to the Golden Retriever, who's tails wagging at the meer sound of food. You looked to him, eyes serious now. Stop beating around the bush.
" 'm just checking on my baby sister, the little baby." He says, still trying to meander around the real reason he's here. You huff gently but hug him, his arms squeeze you into his chest - a little rougher then necessary.
You took a deep breath, he was sweet Richie really was, despite how dysfunctional your family was the both of you came out alright, maybe you more then him. He took the brunt of it afterall.
"He lookin' after you?" He grumbled into your forehead, still pushing you into his chest.
Richie wouldn't even say his name in the context of the pair of you, together. Once you asked him why and he simply grumbled rolling his shoulders.
"Yes, obviously." You whispered gently looking up at him, raising a brow just to tease. "Why? Do you have some secret information on him i need to know about?" You whispered and grin, Richie did not find it as funny as you.
"No, hes just a... friggin' jackoff sometimes." He huffed shaking his head as he flicks the side of your head, rolling his eyes.
Carmen walks in to the kitchen, Duke trotting over excitedly long abandoning you and Richie. "Makin' drinks, anyone want one?" He mutters gently, acknowledging Richie but definitely not adressing him.
Rich grunted and you nodded, hoping to break the ice. "Yes please, mocha or something." You smiled, he smiled akwardly back and nodded.
In a summary, Richie and Carmys relationship around you was civil, that's it. Tensions were definitely high at times; however, at the end of the day they were still cousins.
A/N - this is my first request! This is from @d3ad-aliv3 I hope you luv luv luv it!
Travesty (Eldritch Creature) x Anonymous Reader (sfw)
[Beep boop, a bit of a sadder / darker short from me here. Feeling a bit low, and got inspired to introduce a 1 (x1) of my mister red flags. For those who enjoy darker romance stuff I hope you enjoy. ( uvu ) Warning for a protagonist dealing with depression, and a horrible man. ]
~
It was almost comforting, the cloistering feeling of suffocation. The room tilted and moved like a slow constellation while you lay stationary, face turned to the ceiling. You could get up, take a shower, have some tea, sleep, read a book, sleep, talk to a friend,
sleep,
sleep,
sleep.
Sleep the day away, sleep away the weeks, the months. Sleep away yourself, until there's nothing left. You blink as the thoughts pool unwanted, unwarranted into the private silent dialog. Then that taste is upon the air, in the back of your throat. Sweet, but with an underlying bitter after taste. Your fuzzy gaze on the ceiling light overhead clears, like a cameras lens focusing.
From the ceiling to the room, that lens does a slow perusal of the space. Your gaze freezing to focus on something on the bed. One blue and black striped tendril coming up from underneath your bed. It moves slow, inch by inch, until you can feel it curl around an ankle. Knee raising, you give a half-hearted jerk.
The bed cushions get softer, softer, and you sink further and further down. More tendrils begin to wave from above, slow and mesmerizing, as if you were underwater.
"Go away." You whisper.
"Ah, but how could I ignore such a siren song?" Soft clicking, clicking into your ear as syllables are parsed through a porcelain jaw. Eyes screwing up tight, you kick again, but find the mobility hindered as tendrils begin creeping up your legs.
"Get off," Comes from your lungs like a sigh. A gloved hand and forefinger gently coax your head to turn to look into a hollow face. A tear drop mask white pale blue cheeks leans over you. His thumb stroking your cheek, slow and methodical.
"I couldn't stay away," He whispers conspiratorially, mouth cracking open in a whisper of a smile.
"You didn't try very hard." You whisper back, you feel heavier with every breathe. Waterlogged down with apathy and getting heavier by the moment. He tsks at you, smoothing a kiss unto your brow before releasing your chin. He stretches one leg over you, and you flinch as he settles onto your hips like a dead weight.
"You're courting sadness my dear," His voice so silken, so soothing, as the mattress of the bed continues to bow, the side stretch up tower above. Leaving you ensnared in Travesty's wake. "And sadness is a very demanding lover."
You hadn't been the same since your games, not really. You were loud mouthed and bubbly, like a kettle always ready to pop off at something. You were brave.
But what happened in the games changed you in every which way, though some days were better then other. On the better days you could hold some sort of conversation, intertwine hands with the man you loved most, laugh quietly at whatever joke Finnick relayed. On days like today existing seemed impossible, hollow from negative thoughts that ripped up your insides as you stared at the floor.
On days like today you were still in those games, paddling through waves that always pushed you under. Fighting against every ex ally and 'opponent' every son and daughter in the arena.
Today you were reckoned with the 'joys' of victory speeches, you had no idea fucking why anymore, your games were short of 4 years ago, Finnick's coming upto 7 maybe even 8. Yet you still had to give those stupid speeches time and time again, you didn't even get to write the speeches yourself.
You'd been bubbling with nerves from just before the reaping, trying your hardest to mentally prepare for it. You just wanted to be home, on the beach front where it was quiet, and safe. But no you were hussled back onto the train, all the way to the capitol to read some stupid script, to be pupeteers for Snow and everyone involved.
You didn't even have the energy to be angry anymore, you used to be. Before the games you were filled with red bubbling anger that spilt every reaping, every time someone became the focus of attention in the games - or the opposite, ripped to shreds by Ceaser Flickerman and anybody else who chose to watch the games. Now, you were just exhausted, you woke up exhausted and fell asleep exhausted.
The train rumbled as you sat in the makeup chair, staring into nothingness, two capitol hairdressers brushed and combed through your hair, reminding you to put your chin up every few minutes. Getting more passive agressive each time.
You could feel there eyes burning into the back of your scalp as you have no choice but to stare back at yourself in the mirror, hatred building up within you, before falling back down into misery. It seemed to sit in the pit of your stomach almost all the time, you were an anxious, miserable mess.
You just wanted to go home.
The two hair stylists didn't even bother working from the tips to roots of your hair, ripping through your beach waved hair. "Head up." They grunted again, tilting your head up themselves this time.
Finnick sat opposite you, hair already brushed and rounded into something picture perfect, makeup already airbrushed into already perfect skin.
"Do you remember your speech darling?" A warm voice asked, paitent, slow. He took one of your hands into his, resting his elbows on his mid-thigh. Your speeches got simpler and simpler each year, but somehow they get harder and harder every year. Finnick had gone through it with you as much as he could, he didn't want you to embarass yourself infront of everybody and ofcourse you didn't either.
You didn't remember. It was just last night you went through it, you didn't remember it. You hated yourself, not even half a decade ago you could've remembered a page worth of speech; infact, you could've ran circles around Finnick. You look down again, staring at your knees whilst you bit your lip, eyes watering.
God- don't cry, don't fucking cry.
Finnick hated you, if he didn't pity you so much he would've been gone with the wind. You should've just died in those games and-
"Hey... I'm not mad." He whispered leaning even closer to you.
The hairstylist still brushed at your hair, starting to backcombing it into position. It was almost predicatable what they'd do with your hair, half up half down into braids with sequins and the most expensive gems.
Finnicks eyes softened further, grabbing the small peice of paper which held your speech on. Fully prepared to go through it again.
"Head up." The women barked again, she said it so often it basically became background music.
"You hate me." Your voice wobbled, taking a dragged breath as you wiped your eyes with the palm of your hands. In your head Finnick hated you, deep down he hated you in every cell of his body.
He exhaled, each breath full with empathy, his sweet girl. He quietly but firmly kicked those damn hairdressers out before looking to you.
Eventually he took each hand into his, thumb brushing over each knuckle slowly. "Were gonna go through it once more, ok? You got it." He whispered pressing a feather light kiss into your hairline.
You sat there staring at the floor, finnicks hand leaving yours to stroke through your hair, slowly scissoring through fairy knots.
"We fight in the Capitols name, for all that is good. Myself and Finnick praise those with the odds in the favour, congratulations to them and their families. Happy hunger games, may the odds be ever in your favour." He says stroking your face, pressing a kiss right near your eye as your eyes gloss over.
He gently stands up, you copying what he does as he wraps his arms around you, kissing your forehead with a firm grip on your back.
"It's gonna be okay, it's gonna be over soon. I promise." He whispered, struggling to keep his own voice from shaking.
Summary: When Jack's grandkids come stay for the night, you see him spend the day with his favourite little people and his much more paternal side.
Note: Age gap (Its Jack bsfr), comfort, nightmares, mentions of death, mentions of suicide, leg amputations (Again, its Jack) Jack has a kid.
It would be slightly more akward if they were slightly older. His two grandkids, Isabel and Austin where born five- basically six, years after his wife passed. But no, the little babies were born, post covid, three minutes apart.
And ever since he knew why he hadn't left the earth all those years ago, it was never about him wanting to live then, he just somehow he had better things ahead.
You never tried to be Grandma, not only because you weren't old enough to be a Grandma, but because you never wanted to replace Jacks wife. You knew they'd spend nights dreaming about when their kid was old enough to have their own.
It was just skimming evening, probably just swinging around six. Both kids in the bath, half filled with bubbles. There was a soft echo of giggles and teased murmurs from Jack. He was crouched at a slightly weird angle as he scrubbed his little boys hair.
"Soon enough kid, your gonna be so big, you wont even fit in the bath." Jack teased quietly, snickering soft as Austins jaw drops. His fingertips moving in soft circular moments at his skull, shampoo foaming up in the hair.
"Head back." He whispered softly, glancing back at Isabelle who was playing with her barbie. "What times Mommy putting you guys in bed?" He asked softly, rinsing Austins foamy hair with a jug.
"Twelve!" Isabelle squealed, giggling at her own sillyness. "Seven!" Austin squealed showing up four fingers.
Jack chuckled softly putting Austins toy back in reach. He enjoyed looking after the two of them, cuddling them and kissing them goodnight.
"Well how about G'ampy lets you stay up till 8..." He whispered winking at them with a soft chuckle, mirroring there own estatic face.
You could here him from downstairs, whispering and gigglign with the kids. Yourself downstairs washing up from supper. Dinner was something unusual for jack, spaghetti and hotdogs; which led to both kids needing a scrub in the bath, hence the current situation.
Jacks hands gently washed out soap suds before wrapping both kids in towels, getting out clean pajamas from their suitcases, letting them rumage through for their stuffies.
It was nights like this where he never seemed to notice the phantom pain that made his skin crawl, or when the darkness crept up 'till he felt like he was going to drown.
Not long since you heard the bath gurgle, two little kids ran around the flat giggling and holding jacks shirt, tugging him as they played something completely childish - jack being completely immersed, ofcourse.
---
You and jack were sat up on the couch still, your feet resting in his lap whilst you both scrolled through phones, whilst something from the 2000's played on the tv on a low volume.
Jack's leg was still on, which was unusual because after work he preferred to just hop around with his crutches, unless he was cooking or... doing yoga?
"You okay?" You hummed looking to his leg and raised a brow. He nodded slowly, eyes still peeled to his phone as his fingertips dragged over your socks in small circles. "Yeah, jus' waitin'." He murmered.
You knew he was staying up jsut incase something happened with the kids, just incase one of them had a nightmare or felt sick.
The room drifted to comforting silence, exluding the TV ofcourse. His fingers still scraping back and forth at your socks, when the sound broke through the air.
Soft, quiet whimpering. Not from a nightmare. Probably just from stirring awake in an unfamiliar place.
"Do you want me to go?" You asked, just to be polite.
Jack waved a hand before getting up, leg clicking as he walked over into the 'spare' bedroom. "shh... which one of my babies are cryin'?" He squinted as he steps into the bedroom. Finding isabelle clinging to her teddy, snotty nosed and red cheeks.
He crouched down into a kneeling position as he rests both elebows on the edge of the short bed. "Hm... Want go home." She whined, hiding her face in the blanket as she sniffle.
Jack was use to seeing emotion, god- he saw it every damn day at the hospital. But it didn't make it feel any easier when he could fix it. "I know...but you can't, Grandads gotta look after you for a while." He whipered quietly, hand reaching out to rub her shoulder slowly.
He moved slowly to pick her up under the armpits, arms moving skillfully because he's done this time after time. He looked over his shoulder bouncing slowly to soothe izzy, checking to see if Austin is still asleep; luckily, he sleeps like a rock.
And it was nights like this when he knew he made it, through the rough patch of loosing his wife, his rock, his leg and it seemed like the world was closing in; he knew he made it through.
Sammy who'd buy into whatever hobby you were into. At first it was colouring and he brought you the big pack of those fancy markers and prettiest colouring books, then it was crotchet and he brought you anything you could've wanted.
But when you got into pottery he was skeptical, his mind already flashing to Tammi. But after some back and forth and begging he'd buy you the nicest wheel and some pretty glazes. But when you wanted to get into photography he had to put his foot down. It was one of the only times he had actually said no to you. "No, I seriously- no. You're not having a camera or none of that shit." He said finger pointing in the air as he went on. It wasn't that he didn't want you doing photography in itself, but he was convinced you were gonna go off and hook up with your photography instructor. "Why do you gotta do it? Jus' keep doin' your...knitting thing." He said slightly clueless to what you were doing all day when he was out working.
But he really had his foot down on this, and whilst it rarely happened you knew he wouldn't change his mind. And you weren't getting a camera, not with his money anyway.
Simon definitely has his steaks blue and its disgusting. Watching his jaw work to chew through the practically cold piece of cow with blood all over his plate, the scars that trace his jawline moving at each bite. And when he's at a restaurant he definitely asks for it, 'still mooin'.' And despite how much he reassures he wants it blue as possible it always ends up coming rare or medium rare.
Carmen invited you back. That's what you told yourself, time and time again. Baby Sophie was, what 2 months now? And you hadn't seen Carmy since.
So here you are, stood in the freshly renovated kitchen as Carmen takes you away to make a sandwich, beef on toasted bread. As he sat you in his office, Sophie was passed over to Richie; since he was practically following behind you like a sniffer dog.
It felt wrong but it was so nice to have a moment to breath, really breath.
As you bit into the comforting, greasy sandwich you nodded slowly at Carmen with a big smile. "Good?" He asked, already knowing the anwser.
"You're good kid." You smiled back with a soft chuckle. Carmen was like a little brother, who you just wanted to coddle him and leave him to cook to his hearts content.
Carmy nods slowly rubbing your shoulder, smelling distinctly of something earthy and garlic. He was so kind, almost polar opposite to how he ran his kitchen, cold, blunt.
That's why you tried to stay as far away as possible. Finance had always been your thing, and not to toot your own horn; but, you were pretty good at it.
Your office had been made from scratch, small enough to be cozy, just right when people had to crowd in to look at quarterly income.
It felt nice to be back actually, like you had a brigade of people. Everything became a lot calmer.
A tall blonde guy walked past, before stopping and quickly returning. Sophie curled between two freckled biceps. "Hey- Carmen." He started a little akwardly before pointing a relaxed finger at him. "Where is the... Mum for this baby?" He asked, accent from not here, England probably.
"Uhm, mine- sorry who are you?" You asked reaching for Sophie as she coos, grabbing at the collar of your shirt. "Luca." Carmen says casually.
Who the fuck is Luca?
The man in question gave a polite nod as his arms cross over his chest akwardly. "Hiya. I think your baby's uh- needs a change." He says akwardly.
Carmen, every more the happy to escape the tongue lashing for hiring yet another person. Murmuring something as he takes Sophie, leaving the room leaving you to your sandwich.
"Sorry, who are you?" You asked looking to him as you take another bite of your sandwich. Luca chuckled leaning against the door-frame.
"I'm Luca, I'm a line chef for Carmy." He says cooly. Seriously? Carmen hired a whole person without asking you? That's a whole wage to add in!
Your brows furrowed before you can help it and Luca looks to you again. "But uh- technically I'm a stage." He nodded again and you took a breath of relief.
"Brilliant, nice to meet you." You stood up to shake his hand with your non-greasy one. "I'm [+], I basically cover all the non-food stuff, bills, social media, marketing." You nodded and he gives you a smile, moving to sit across from your desk.
"I'm on maternity leave thats why..." You trailed off, throwing a thumb over your shoulder in the direction where Carmen and Sophie where; however, knowing your luck she's probably been left to the Fak twins.
He nodded and gave another small smile, freckled nose wrinkling slightly. You took another bite of you sandwich as Luca tells you about how he knows Carmy, and where he come from.
You learn he came from the Ever restaraunt, and how he trained alongside Carmen. It was slightly strange knowing he's known Carmy for so long yet you've just met him. "Sorry, are you a Berzatto?" He asked, British accent laced with confusion.
"As much of a Berzatto as Richie is." You said sarcastically.
He didn't get it. The look on his face gave that away before he even opened his mouth. "Is Richie a Berzatto?" He leant in to ask, peering back to the door.
You exhaled, God- how do you condense 19 years of 'family' history in a way that made sense to some... random guy.
"I'm more of a family friend." You said slightly akwardly, because it wasn't even close to true. And calling it that felt like a betrayal to everything the Berzatto's have done for you, and everything you've done for them.
Luca let out a hum, starting to sound a little less confused as he nodded, letting the silence stretch.
You looked to the cork board that was hung above your desk, polaroids of you and Carmy - a few of him as an akward teenager too, a few of Marcus and Richie, and a few of sydney and you in silly poses. But, most of all there was alot of Michael, him pulling faces outside The beef, him actively putting Richie in a headlock inside The beef, but most importantly there was one right in the centre of you and him, Mikey fast asleep in an old office chair with lipstick all over his face.
Looking to that picture took you right back to that time, Mikey's office that always reeked of carmelised onions and grease and his office chair that hadn't been changed since his Dad brought it. Mikey had fell asleep and you and Richie had decided on pranking him - hence the photo.
"Who's that guy?" He asked quietly, snapping you out of your daze, it was bitter sweet someone asking who Michael is, not where he is.
You took a breath. "Oh, thats Michael, he's Carmens brother." You nodded just hoping he wouldn't ask anymore questions, but it was human nature after all.
"Wheres The beef?"
It was almost ironic how you knew he would ask that question. It shut down, but why? Because Carmen didn't wanna be burdened with his brothers shit resturant?
His eyes where soft, open questions that didn't feel intruding. Luca was actually a really nice guy so far, and he was pretty good looking as well...
"The beef shut down, it was like- a stepping stone to The bear." You smiled bitterly glancing back to the pictures of Michael, he looked completely different in each an every one of them. In one photo he had floppy hair and a sharp beard, the other he had a badly done buzzcut and a goatte, the other - kept back hair and cleanly shaven.
You stretched out, wiping your mouth with one of the napkins on your plate. "Right, I'm assuming Michael retired?" Luca asked, voice full of anything but malice.
"He took his own life actually." You said, not meaning to snap but it just came out. Luca's face fell gently as he slowly nodded, he was listening.
"I was his girlfriend, actually." You mumbled glancing back to the pictures on the cork board once again.
You'd been apart of the Berzatto family for years, long before forks were thrown, long before Michael turnt to drugs.
"Ah, right. Is that how Sop-..." He trailed off before realising how innapropriate he sounds.
You chuckle quietly at that and shake your head. "No- uh, that was someone else." You replied. In all honesty it was just a heat of the moment decision to try and feel loved again, like you were actually worth something.
"He's not in the picture." You said quietly and he nodded again, always listening, calm and collected.
You let out a huffed laughter and take a soft breath. "God- I sound like a whore." You chuckled taking a breath. "I- Michael was my childhood sweetheart." You nodded.
Luca nodded, leaning back into the chair, lips pursed into soft concerntration. "Mhm, how long- how long since he passed?" Glancing back at a picture, tucked tight in the corner of the corkboard. Like you tried to hard to forget, but loved it too much to let go.
The picture was Richies wedding, the pair of you slightly over tipsy. You were in your sisters old prom dress, slightly out of fashion. And Michael was wearing his dads suit, long hidden in his moms closet.
The disco light was speckling light onto the two of you, potentially ruining the photo if it wasn't for how candid the photo was of the two of you. Michaels face was half covered, nose smooshed against your skin, clearly something funny had been said.
"2016." You said staring back at the photo. Your lips tugged into a small frown. "He was 42." You snickered gently, forty two made him sound so old.
Luca smiled gently, mostly at the grin on your face in the photo. "Do you think me and him would've gotten on?" He asked, trying to understand him more.
You smiled too, grief was weird. You could practically here Mikey scoffing at Luca saying something about how, 's all prestigous bull.'
"God no, he uh- I think Carmy was his limit." You whispered under you breath, with a bittersweet smile and a shake of your head.
[It's been a hot minute since I wrote a short silly thing 🫀 I hope you guys enjoy more Heli and a very clownee pov. For those who don't know him, I added links to his pervious story!]
Heliodor Part I ♡ Heliodor Part II
“Sure! Okay!” You chirp.
Heliodor had moved around you, stalking to the exit. Yet your words make him freeze and he slowly swivels his head to look back at you. His eyes shift from their usual solid gold glow to focus in. They become thin gold rings with target crosshair pupils.
“What did you just say?” He rumbles softly.
You back up as he turns back around to face you.
“Uh. sure, okay?”
He puts his arms behind his back and leans forward, glowering. “Oh. No. I need you to promise me you won’t get into trouble. Because I have known you long enough that when you say those words, you are going to do the exact opposite of what I say.”
You point to yourself looking bewildered. “I’ve done that?”
Heliodor’s eyes narrow further “Your word.” he grates.
“I promise I won’t get into any trouble?” You supply nervously.
He watches intently, eyes darting back and forth to gauge your expression, as if he was trying to scour your mind. He straightens up and growls, snapping around in a precise about face.
Heliodor stomps out into the hallway and the thick metal door closes with a thunk. Once he is gone and you are sure you are alone, you look around the empty space, a grin scrawls across your face.
“... It’s not trouble, it’s called escaping.” You announce to the empty room. “And I definitely will be doing that.”
It didn’t go quite as planned.
You found yourself once again backed into a corner with Commander Heliodor looming above you.
“Does giving your word mean nothing to organic beings?” He paces back and forth, “Does your kind even have a sense of honor installed into your systems?”
You raise a finger, “I promised I wouldn’t get into trouble, Escaping isn’t trouble for me. It’s probably better for me even.” Your lips suck in like you tasted a lemon as he looks at you. You find a spec of dirt on the wall to be very interesting at that moment.
You can hear his systems whirring as he gets closer, your eyes popping but you continue to study that wall in utter fascination. Ah, the beautiful monotonous grey, that one smudge of dirt. It’s like art really. How would you ever find anything more beautiful than this dingy wall?
Peeling your gaze away, you reluctantly look up at him. Oof you wished you had kept your eyes locked on the wall. He was caging you in, his torso bent forward so his head was just a foot above yours. You could reach out and poke his helmet right now. Your brain weighs the option. Fantasizing what that would be like. You would slowly reach a finger out, poke him between the eyes and say in a soft high voice “boop” and then you are pretty sure you’d be mauled to death afterwards.
“Ah, haha. Well you see. It’s not my fault you underestimated me?” You tap your fingers together and lips part in an attempt to give your best innocent smile, blinking cutely.
One of his glowing eyes flickers and he reaches down. You squeak as you are hauled off the floor by the back of your shirt. You cough as the collar of it tightens around your neck. “H-hey!” With feet dangling off the ground, you try not to flail at the sudden lack of anything beneath them.
“Yes… my mistake. Let’s rectify this, shall we?” His voice holds a smooth dangerous tone.
“Uh. I mean. Do we have to? You could just p-put me back in my own cell.”
“Oh no.” Heli croons, turning around with you dangling like a kitten. “As you said. I must have underestimated you. Let’s not make that same mistake twice~”
You laugh nervously before giving a small breathy “Oh…” Carted down the hall as if you weighed nothing, jeez this machine is strong. A part of you is terrified your shirt is going to rip and you're going to face-plant on the cold metal floor. It’s a long way down from up here.
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