#I have a few more playlists I'm really proud of | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

carmenized-onions · 4 months ago

Text

Two Steps Back. | Advanced Payment

logline; it's time to retrace your steps. both of you.

[!!!] series history, this is the thirteenth; nothing distresses me more than when i see people read this out of order PLEASE BABY PLEASE

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. constant headache was actually in season 3? my brain. my power.

Or, maybe you'd like a playlist made especially for this chapter? Consider this my Fishes special.

portion; 17k new record again, please god tell me it gets shorter from here on i'm so. tired..

possible allergies; you will know exactly what trigger warnings you need upon reading seeing the first line. Also! I watched Season 3, and injected some lines from it into this, including the finale. I don't consider it full spoilers, because it's an entirely new context, but you might wanna catch up before you read this one!

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader so excessively gendered, in this chapter. my bad.

it's my birthday so if you typically lurk legally you have to tell me your thoughts on this one! Also it's once again the new longest, so like. cmon.

“What are you, Amish?”

You blink, craning your head back to look up at this annoying giant. You’re too tired for this shit. This is your one day off this week and you’re spending it fixing faulty lights with your dad, at some shit diner. Why did you agree to start coming on jobs? Why’s this guy gotta bother you on your lunch break? What’s wrong with you not wanting to smoke? Pardon you for not wanting to kill yourself with tobacco—

“Ah, no, I’m just uhm—” You gesture your hand to your head. “I get migraines, kinda easy, so I can’t, uh— Can’t indulge.”

He nods, he opts to stand next to you, while you’re sitting on the curb. At least the smoke will blow over your head, this way. You try to eat your lunch in peace. He does not let you have this moment of peace.

“Jack, right?” He nudges your foot with his. “That’s what your pop’s calls you, at least?”

“Yeah. Everyone calls me Jack.” You nod. Guess this is a conversation now, whether you want it or not. “You’re Mikey? The owner?”

“The Original Chicago Beef, in the flesh.” He nods, and he says it like he’s proud but he doesn’t look it. He leers at your partially consumed tin foil wrapped sandwich. “You bring your own lunch?”

You shrug. “Uh, yeah, grilled cheese with pork—”

“Why would you—” The door to the kitchen swings open, as Mikey grimaces. You both turn your heads to see another guy come out— Oh it’s that one, the one that cannot stop talking about his divorce— Mikey consults him. “Yo, Rich, do I look like some jamoke, to you? Just wonderin’.”

Rich, tilts his head, and his legs follow after him, “No, cousin, whatssup?” He takes the cigarette from Mikey, when it’s offered up.

“Well, our little fixer friend here—” Mikey nudges you, again. “—seems to think me a fuckin’ ass.”

Now when did you say anything like that? “Wha—”

“Stop making lunches, I’ve been watching you come in here with your little lunch pail the past few jobs, you eat free ‘ere, aright? You’re workin’.” Doesn’t matter what you said. Mikey sees you. Mikey’s always seen you.

‘workin’’ is a bit generous. The most you do is hand your dad tools, hold a flashlight, and ask too many questions. You definitely could do more, but he knows you're too tired. He really just wants to spend time with you. You pretend to not know his ulterior motives.

“We’re gentlemen here, sweetheart.” Rich bends down, so you can see him past Mikey’s frame, at your level. He reaches a hand out for you to shake. “Richie. Jerimovich.”

You’re not gonna remember that. You take his hand and shake it. “Jack. It’s— I’m just Jack.”

You’ve only got one hand on your sandwich, to shake Richie’s hand. So, like a school bully, Michael takes your loosened grip as his opportunity to grab it from you. “Yoink—!”

You whine, “C’mon—” “Let me make you a real fuckin’ sandwich, sweetheart—” “I’d just like my sandwich, alright?” “Oh, it’ll be your sandwich, alright? You think I don’t make good sandwiches? Richie, she doesn’t think I make good sandwiches.”

“Fuckin’ insane, cousin.”

You attempt to defend yourself from the peanut gallery of one guy. “Not what I said!”

“Why do you keep bringing lunch, then?”

Because it’s easy? Because it’s orderly? Because you’ve been in a full state of autopilot for the last threeish years and every day you’ve eaten the same breakfast and made the same lunch and then you go on your shift and then someone nearly dies and sobs in your arms and then you sit on the edge of the ambulance and you eat your grilled cheese and pork? Because if you break the routine it’s all gonna hit?

“I just like making my own lunch.”

“Well, stop. You’re breaking my heart.” Michael takes a bite of your sandwich. You click your teeth. Germs. You’re going to chastise him, but he doesn’t let you. “You like pork more than beef?”

“I think beef is fine.”

“Not what I asked.”

You take too long to respond, meaning the lie won’t be believable, so you have to tell the truth. You have to tell The Original Chicago Beef that— “I… I like pork more.”

“How dare you—” Barks Richie, the guard dog, apparently. Mikey stops him, putting a hand up.

“No, no, I asked the lady a question. She’s wrong but I asked. Fair’s fair. We express our fury like gentlemen, Cousin.” He nods, to himself. Thinking. About what is beyond you. God, so much for a lunch break. You point to your sandwich in his hand.

“Can I have that back—” “No. I’m makin’ you a goddamn real sandwich.”

You all but growl, really. You start to stand up. God, this guy is pushy. “I just said, I prefer—”

Mikey’s already making his way back into the kitchen, with the last half of your lunch as hostage. “Oh, I’ll make you a fuckin’ pork sandwich, aright?”

Mikey’s guard dog stamps out the butt of the shared cigarette, walking backwards into the kitchen, following Mikey but watching you. “He’s gonna make you fuckin’ pork, aright?”

“Aright!” Is all you can yell back, at your wits with the two dumbest most stubborn middle-aged geezers you’ve ever met.

Richie holds the door open for you, so you don’t get locked out. Alright, maybe he is a gentleman. You hear Mikey’s voice ring, from inside the kitchen. “And if you’re not doin’ nothin’ for your dad, try to fix the fuckin’ coffee machine, would you?”

This fucking guy.

You have waved at him a couple times, here and there, while helping out your dad. But now, you’ve officially had Michael Bear Berzatto in your life for a solid ten minutes. Doesn’t feel like it.

Carmen Anthony Bear Berzatto has officially not had you in his life for ten minutes. Doesn’t feel like it. Feels like you’ve been gone for years. But you’re probably still just outside, talking to Richie and Syd. How is it still Friday? What time is it? Almost six? They’ve still got four fucking hours of service to go? No, that’s a good thing. This is a good thing. Doesn’t give him time to think. Everyone needs to stop staring at him.

What a fucking monster. What did he even say? He can’t remember anymore. He remembered ten minutes ago, and now it’s gone. Completely walled off in his memory. What did he say? Why did you make that face? What did he say to Richie, again? Why did you step in front of him? What did you say, again? What did Richie say? What happened? He can’t remember. He knows he did something fucked up but Carmen cannot remember what happened twenty minutes ago. That’s bad, right?

“I need hands!” Carmen does not recognize the fact that he’s working until he hears his own voice.

Right. He’s on expo. He’s doing expo. That’s what was happening twenty minutes ago, he thinks. That’s what was happening, right? Doesn’t matter. This is what he’s doing now. Fak comes back in and takes the tray to run. He looks around for a moment, confused.

“Where’s Tony?”

“She’s gone.”

Fak pauses. You don’t leave, that doesn’t match up in his brain. It doesn’t really match up in Carmen’s either, but this is what’s happening now. “What’d’you mean she’s gone?”

“I mean she’s fucking gone, Fak.” Carmen barks back, practically. Such a fucking monster. Could Fak tell him what he said? Doesn’t matter. Carmen nods to the plate. “Table twenty-five, go.”

“...Where’d she go—” “Fucking go, Fak!”

There is a loud, thrumming buzz. The type that goes off after a game. Or maybe after a wrong answer. Expo clock. Since when did it have a sound setting? The kitchen flinches, including Carmen, including a meek-made Neil, and look to the clock behind them.

Time has stopped. 0ERR is all it displays now. The sign ‘EVERY SECOND COUNTS’ is real ironic, now. What the fuck happened? You would know. You’re still outside, Carmen could get you. Carmen could get you and say he’s sorry for whatever happened. The back of his head feels like it’s hemorrhaging. He needs to go to a doctor. Maybe a paramedic. Carmen could get you, ask you what he said, and also ask if he is actively dying, right now.

“Fak.”

“Carm?”

“Table twenty-five.” Carmen points at the plate again, with his sharpie. Then points behind him, to the broken clock. “Then fix that.”

“Why not call To—” “Do you want a fucking job here or not?” “I—I do—” “Then do your fucking job, Fak.”

Carmen doesn’t need you. The Bear doesn’t need you. They can function just fine. Everything’s fine, without you. Everything’s normal. Everything is the way that it should be. He is shaking so much— When did he eat? Has he eaten? What the fuck is wrong with him? What happened twenty minutes ago? Or was it twenty-five? No. That’s table twenty-five, he’s mixing up his numbers. What time is it? He doesn’t know. The whole kitchen doesn’t know what time it is, anymore. You are gone and so are the minutes.

Fak leaves, with the plate. Shrunken. Following orders. Carmen just turns everyone into himself, doesn’t he? What a fucking monster. He knows how bad it is to be him, and yet he still does it. Look at the orders, Carmen. Run fucking expo. So fucking slow, Carmen. Look at the orders.

The crumpled piece of paper you handed him twenty minutes— Thirty? Fuck. The fucking note you handed him some amount of time ago. It sits on his table, next to all the actual orders. He rereads it, instead of the five cavatellis he’s supposed to be yelling about, right now.

Walk-In Hotfix, $80

Plumbing Repair (Service + 4 Hours), $250

Oven Wiring Fix (House call), $70

Oven Hotfix + Replacement Thermocouple, $120

Non-Gratis: Pinot Grigio, -$20

Advanced Payment, M. Berzatto. -$2,500

You forgot the booths. And taxes. And you should probably get paid a half day, for serving for the past half hour. You also forgot all the times he called you, texted you, came over, the bookshelf you brought him, the basil, the rosemary water, cleaning up his trash, every time you tried food for him, every time you told him everything was going to be okay, every time you made everyone breath in here like it was going to be okay— You forgot everything you do. Priceless. Easily, you are owed millions, from Carmen.

He flips over the note. He reads Sweeps’ quick scribings from David, the fucking asshole out front, the fucking asshole in his head.

Cherry + Lamb, good flavour. A lot of elements. Fresh, Unique. Overall good? Ig? Weird tone.

Said he’d like to speak to ‘Wine Girl’ (ick), mentioned Michelin connect? Number = Connect? (Ick)

You didn’t eat the cherry and lamb dish. That just connected, in his head. You didn’t get to eat it. Not only did you not get to eat it, the motherfucker outside did. Fuck. You were trying to be nice, but you’ve fucked him. Unique is practically a slur to his Exec. Carmen has fun when he makes things for you— He plays— That’s not what his Exec wants. He wants two elements, max. The fact that David actually liked the flavour is nothing short of a fucking miracle. Carmen could throw up. He’s definitely getting an ulcer, again. Where’s your Tums? Fuck, you took it with you, didn’t you?

It’s embarrassing how many rules he forgets to implement, when he cooks for you. Boundless, unrestricted— When he cooks for you. Doesn't cut a single concept. It’s mortifying that someone other than you ate it, let alone David fucking Fields.

Carmen’s eyes feather, almost closing, but not completely. He scratches his fingers through his hair, destroying the cast of gel it’s been stuck in. His curls are desperately trying and failing to reform. It doesn’t matter how much he runs his hands through it, he cannot get it to smell like you again. He cannot find you in himself, he cannot find you in his kitchen. That’s what annoyed him, earlier, wasn’t it? That you were everywhere? That you were carved in, everywhere? He thought he didn’t want that?

His knees bounce where he stands, he bumps into his jacket under the table. Right. You left it. Are you cold? Turtleneck was thin. You looked so good. You always look good. Better, in his clothes, but you always look good. Did he remember to tell you that? Probably not.

“Where—” Fuck, he really is going to throw up. “Where we at on Booth Twelve’s dessert tray, Chef?”

You said it was okay for Carmen to give your number out. You gave your dish out. You shelled yourself out, for Carmen. It feels like a cave is being hollowed out, in his throat. He is so angry and he doesn’t know who it’s for. He doesn’t know where to put it. Is that what happened twenty-three— twenty-four minutes ago? Did he give it to you? No, he gave it to Richie, right? That’s how it started. Marcus hands off the dessert paddle to expo, silently. No one wants to talk to Carmen. That’s probably fair. What did he say? Probably bad. It’s already huge they haven’t walked out on him, yet. Has anyone walked out, yet?

Marcus is here, Syd is still out back— Well, actually, she might’ve left with you, she should if she can. Are you still out there? Tina wipes her eyes, working at the oven you fixed thirty— No, forty— Fuck— Earlier. It’s probably the onions from the broth making her tear up. No, it definitely is. Fak is out front, Sweeps is out front, Richie is still out back.

What did he say to Richie? Something about kids? There are no servers to hand off dessert to stupid fucking booth twelve. Carmen cannot keep looking at the family he’s ruined, in whatever way he managed to ruin it. He grabs the dessert tray. He’ll deliver it himself. He can do it all himself. He’s good by himself.

You’ve been out of Carmen’s life for 0ERR minutes. Yeah. That’s exactly how long it feels like.

“Try it try it try it.” You mumble, hurriedly, excitedly, to Marcus. The bread guy. He’s the nicest of the bunch, so far. You hand him the mug. He takes a sip of the coffee you’ve been perfecting for the last six jobs here, give or take. You’ve been in The Beef’s life for two months or so.

“Holy shit.” He nods, digesting it— Actually digesting it, which means— “It’s edible.”

“I know!” You all but shout, too excited to hide it. You’ve finally figured out how to make this thing produce what it’s supposed to— Instead of what is essentially arsenic with coffee flavouring.

Your excitement makes a line cook behind you grimace. The one you’ve still got yet to win over. “My ears, kid.”

“Sorry.” You reply lightly. Your back is turned to her, so she can’t see you cringe to Marcus, crying for help, practically. He’s sympathetic. He kept saying you just need to prove yourself, but it’s been taking forever, what else can you prove?

He decides to fast track you. “Yo, T.” She nods. She respects Marcus. But you’re just some girl that’s been in her walkway for the past seven weeks. “Try it.” He hands her your edible coffee.

She rolls her eyes, already nonplussed, but she takes the coffee. She is genuinely impressed, for a split second, before it turns into a coy sarcasm. “Wow— You’ve made not poison, great job, baby.”

“I’m gonna get better.” You respond instantly. That’s something you noticed Tina likes. Quickness. “I’m gonna make you a good coffee.” Determination, too.

“Bold.”

“Thank you—”

“No.” She pushes the coffee to your chest; you grab it before it spills. “I like it bold.”

God, she’s so scary. “Heard.” She’s so cool.

She watches you, for a second; wants to see if you crack. You don’t, thankfully. She folds. She finally kinda likes you— Or rather, is willing to admit it, in some small way. “You can come tonight.”

You can come to family, tonight. It takes everything in you not to cheer. You should mix them drinks. Or is that too try hard? No, it’s the perfect amount of try— Right? It was your old party trick in college, you should use it. Prove yourself.

“Cool.” Is all you can say, without seeming like a desperate nerd.

You've been slowly cutting away at every relationship in your life, par for your family— And even that hangs by a thread— And you thought you were fine with that. You thought you were good like that, but once you got used to The Weirdos of The Beef, you cannot help but desperately want friends, again.

Every moment you get outside of your twelve to twenty-four hour EMS shifts, you spend it here. You’re tired, but it might actually be worth it; to talk to people instead of rotting in your apartment for half a week every week.

What month is it? March? When's Squid's birthday again? Did you miss it? It's the one time a year you get to talk without the underlying pressure that you have to hang out now.

Happy Birthday, what have you been up to? Oh, same thing as last year? You're irrevocably a different person now but you're also still the same? Nothing much? Same here. We should see each other soon. We won't. I won't say I love you because I don't want to be weird. Even though we used to say it every day. I will never know you like I used to, and so I won't even try. Same time next year?

Working in The Beef reminds you of her. Reminds you of the other stubborn cook in your life. Was in your life? Don’t think about that. Sometimes you hear her dad's voice out front, buying himself a half-hot half-sweet braised beef sandwich. Sometimes you think about going out there and saying hi. Sometimes you think about asking about Syd. Sometimes you think about asking how the catering gig is going. Sometimes you think about asking if she needs you anymore.

You never do.

“Aye.” Mikey claps your shoulders, bringing you back to earth. You didn't even realize he was behind you. He digs his hands in, a sudden and always painful massage. His preferred way of saying stop fucking tweaking. He leans over your shoulder, looking at the coffee cup that doesn't look as pitiful as it usually does. “Good job, kid.”

“Thank you—” “Now figure out how to make it worth drinking.”

You scoff, rolling your shoulders to push him off you. “I'm fuckin’ trying!”

His hands stay in place, but his massage does become gentle, and actually decent. Per usual. You’re not sure how he always manages to get the knots. “T say you can come to family?”

You had to get all yeses that you are now in fact family to join for family. You look over your shoulder to face him. “Mhm.”

“Good.” He looks around. “Your dad here?”

You nod. “In the basement, something about your furnace? It's fucking beyond my skill set, so I'm up here until he needs me.” As much as your dad started doing this to hang out with you, heads got too hot with you fucking up which tools to hand him one too many times; repeatedly yelling same team in a more and more distressed tone did not seem to be helping either. Whatever. Gave you more time with the coffee machine. You’re going to make this thing your bitch, one day. One day this thing is going to sing for you.

“Oh, good.” And with that, he's already pulling you to his station. “You can help me with family brisket, then.”

“Nooooo—” “If you want family you gotta be family, Jack.”

You whine, but you don't mind this at all. Mikey sees you. Mikey knows you; probably better than he should. He knows you always need something to do.

“Pork?” “Pork.” “Fine.” It's your recipe, so you must oblige.

He's good. Mikey is good. Mikey pays attention. Mikey's made the cycle break in a way that doesn't hurt.

Carmen needs to apologize to Richie, for never taking his stress over running front of house seriously.

Carmen hates being out front already and he’s only just stepped out. Why is everyone looking at him out here, too? He should also apologize for whatever he said forty minutes ago. Thirty-five? Doesn’t matter. What’s important is handing this dessert tray to the fucking jagoff. The man who Carmen dreamed of becoming, the man who he’s now scared he’s become. David Fields. Former Executive Chef. Too many accolades to list.

“Dessert is served, hope you enjoy, Chef.” Carmen manages to bite his tongue for this guy, so why can’t he do it for the people he actually gives a fuck about? He’s a fucking coward. He swallows, setting the dessert paddle down in front of the stupid five fucking guests. Far too big a party, for a fucking walk in. And all they got for dessert was the fucking tasting paddle? Why are they skimping now? Assholes. All of them. Carmen knows all of these people. Well. Knows their faces. Remembers working with them, but never really talked to any of them. Why would he? He was focused. He was good.

“Thank you, Chef.” Says David. It feels like lightning, to hear those words. But not in a good way. It should feel like an accomplishment, to hear this guy say anything remotely positive, to Carmen, but it doesn’t. It feels the opposite, honestly. Feels like something’s wrong. Getting this guy’s approval is wrong.

This is the part where Carmen is supposed to leave. This is the part where the server goes back to the kitchen and continues their job. But he can’t. He’s stuck in place. He’s back in front of the fire, and he’s not putting it out. Carmen swallows hard and his spit feels like glass all the way down his throat. His Exec stares at him, nearly coy— Like he knows. Like he can see the invisible snake coiling around Carmen. Like he knows that Carmen desperately has something to say.

“Let’s have it, Chef.” David goads.

Fuck it. Fuck everything, fuck it. Not like the night can get worse. “Can we step out, for a second, Chef?”

“Lookit this.” Mikey pivots his phone to you, for you to see a photo he's just been sent.

It's of… “What the fuck is that?” You've got no clue. Some weird spiralling array of colours.

“I've no fucking clue. Food? Apparently?”

It's April, and Mikey has let you in. You will not realize how big a deal this is until it's too late. But right now, you're just happy to be hanging out with him before open. Without your dad, too.

Their most frequent regular’s favourite chair broke, one of the legs just fully gave out underneath him. It's an easy fix. Mikey could probably do it himself. Fak or whatever the fuck his name is could absolutely do it himself. Mikey called you, instead. Called you. Not your dad. You think this'll be your first and last solo job. Naive.

“Carmy?” You assume, he's the only person that's on that rich people shit. Michelin Star Chef, baby boy with big dreams.

“Yessir. He’s still killin’ it.” Is all Mikey says, tucking his phone away. You frown at him, screwing the chair leg in, sitting on the floor. He groans. “Don't gimme those eyes, Jack.”

“You should reply!”

“He doesn't need a fuckin' reply.”

You tilt your head, the look you give him translates to ‘Are you forreal?’

He just sighs, exasperated. “You don't get brothers, Jack.”

“I literally have brothers, Michael.”

“Yeah but it's—” He gestures to the general air, attempting to explain nothing. “It's different. We communicate different.”

“Sure.” You can admit that. “I'm sure the dynamic is very different brother to brother, brother to sister. But like—” You jiggle the chair leg, alright maybe it's not that easy of a fix. “It sucks bein’ the baby, I know that much.”

“You're the baby?”

“Yeah, why?” You lift your head from the chair back to him. “I got middle child energy? I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

“No, no— Oldest.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “Thought you were one of me, Jack. My own blood.”

You scoff. But it’s not something you haven’t heard before. You’ve got the blood of people who’ve had to take care of people. “Well, being the only sister kinda made me the oldest sister.”

You pad your hand around the floor, searching, before looking up to Michael, again. “You see the fuckin—?”

He tosses you the chair leg cap, before you can finish asking for it. “You’d like Nat. Similar ideologies.”

“I would love to know how your younger sister fuckin’ survived you, that’s for sure.”

He laughs, at that. “She’s a trooper. Surrounded by some of the worst men Chicago has to offer.” He looks at the coffee that you painstakingly crafted for him, this morning. “This is actually kinda fuckin’ good, Jack.”

“Do you have to add actually and kinda?”

He rolls his head back, neck straining. “For what you had, it’s fuckin’ perfection, alright? Happy?”

“Fuckin’ delighted.” You throw the chair up onto its legs, and it stands. “You?”

He gets up from his seat to try out the chair. He takes the coffee with him. There’s a split second where you’re scared that actually this was too hard a job for you and Mikey is going to fall and the hot coffee is going to careen everywhere and fucking scald him and you told him he needed to get a first-aid kit in here but he hasn’t gotten around to it yet—

Mikey sits, and the chair works. He takes another sip of your chai coffee blend, like a vote of his confidence. He never had any doubt you could get the coffee machine to work, never had any doubt you could make a good coffee, never had any doubt you could get the chair to stand strong. Mikey has always always believed in your capabilities, even when you haven’t, and has always been happy to prove yourself to yourself. Mikey is really good at being an older brother, you think. And forget that he never texted back the real baby of his real family.

“Fuckin’ delighted, Jackie.”

“Never fuckin’ call me Jackie.”

“Heard.”

Two executive chefs stand in front of a restaurant, there’s probably a joke in here somewhere. Carmen doesn’t care to find it. He watches your car drive out onto the road, out of the corner of his eye. That’s it, then. You’re gone. He fishes a pack of cigarettes out from the chest pocket of his chef’s uniform.

“You should quit.” Says David, so high and fucking mighty. As if he doesn’t house a bottle of wine daily.

“I’m aware.” Carmen lights it anyways. You don’t smoke. Did his mouth taste bad, every time he’d kiss you? Probably. You probably just bore it for his sake. Maybe that’s why you so rarely went for his lips. He takes a puff, it doesn’t calm him down.

“Your hair is fucked.”

“And the food?”

“Busy. You can lose the basil and eggplant. You’ll re-learn.” David tilts his head, thinking, smarmy. “Someone got in your head.”

“Someone other than you, yeah.”

“Awe.” David smiles, something he so rarely did in the kitchen, but perfected in public. His tone is so perfectly pouty, like it’s disappointing he’s not the only one living rent free in Carmen’s brain anymore.

Carmen steadies his eyes forward, to the street. He cannot look his own personal nightmare in the eyes, but he can say what he’s always wanted to say. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?”

“How am I an asshole?” “Can you stay ‘til after close?” “You’re welcome.”

Carmen turns his head to face him now, eyes wide like plates. “I— I’m welcome? For—For-for what?”

“You were an okay chef, when you started with me.” David doesn’t fear eye contact. David’s probably never had a bad day in his fucking life. “And you left an excellent chef, so you’re welcome.”

Carmen’s never even heard the fucking word excellent come out of this man’s mouth. Let alone to describe him. It doesn’t feel good, for some reason. It still doesn’t feel good to receive praise from him, despite the fact that he’s everything.

“You…” Carmen needs a second, to catch his breath. He probably should quit smoking. “You gave me ulcers, and panic attacks, and— and nightmares— You— You know that? You understand that?”

“Yeah.” David’s entirely unfazed. All he’s heard is a list of benefits, in his head. “I gave you confidence and leadership and ability— It fucking worked.”

Is this what it working is supposed to feel like? Is this what it feels like to function? Is this what it means, to make it? If it is, then what the fuck does not making it feel like?

“I’m— I’m, I’m— I’m actually fuckin’ stunned, right now, I—” Carmen rubs his hands over his eyes. “My life stopped.”

“That’s the point.”

“That’s the point?”

“You wanted to be excellent. You got rid of all the bullshit, you concentrated, you focused— And you got excellent. And it worked. You’re here.”

You’re not bullshit. You’re not bullshit and he shouldn’t have done whatever he did to make you leave. Carmen is anything but excellent, without the people behind him, and he’s realizing that now. He’s an idiot, because you told him this, the second day of knowing him you told him this. He has a wonderful team— A family— A family he now considers you a part of. And he tanked all of it, everyone— Why? Because he had a bad fucking day? Because a dish got sent back? Because he fucked up tremendously? Boo-fucking-hoo, Carmen. It takes an idiot like David, who thinks he’s a genius, for Carmen to realize they look exactly the fucking same— And that is the actual thing that’s mortifying, tonight.

The real mortifying thing, isn’t that you were so fucking sweet and considerate of his stupid fucking brain and his stupid insane aspirations— It isn’t your dish. The mortifying thing is he prioritized the man in front of him, in any regard. It’s mortifying that Carmen made you feel like you had to prioritize the man in front of him.

“I just— I just made the—The only fuckin’ good thing in my life leave because— Because you got in my fucking head.”

David just raises his brows, like Carmen’s fucking stupid. Like there’s not a problem here. Because to him, there isn’t. And once again, the stupid fucking Exec repeats. “You’re welcome?”

“I’m—” The door opens, and for a moment, despite the fact that he watched your car disappear minutes ago, Carmen still thinks there’s a chance it’s gonna be you; begs a higher power that it’s going to be you. It’s not. It’s Richie.

“Hey asshole—” Richie stops, when he sees David. “Ah. You’re needed, Chef Carmen.”

“Cousin— You’re needed, pronto.”

“Not your Cousin.”

“Heard and resented.”

Richie’s had a habit of calling you cousin, lately. You pull your head out of the back of the Ball-Breaker arcade machine. Its controls are allegedly on the fritz, but you’re pretty sure Chi-Chi just sucks at this game. “Whaddya need? Do I have to run front a-fucking-gain?”

That was a fun out of nowhere three hour shift with zero restaurant experience— Par for bar. It will not be the last.

“Nono— Just a cuppa coffee? More like six.”

You kiss your teeth, tutting him. “You know how the fuckin’ machine works—”

“Want your coffee?” He corrects, like stroking your ego will make you fold. It does. You stand up, stretching your legs.

“Fine. Just get me a list of everyone’s—” He slaps a folded note against your forehead. “Orders.”

“Fucker.” You take it off your head to read. “Whatta ‘bout Mikey’s?” He’s missing from the list.

Richie shrugs. “Surprise him, he’s out back— In one of his moods.”

You don’t know how uncommon it is for Mikey to be so out of it. You’re meeting Mikey during his slow but certain downward spiral, but you don’t know that. No. How could you? No, so you think it’s normal for Mikey to occasionally leave rooms and turn inward.

“Aye aye, Rich.”

He kisses your temple as you pass him, making an all too aggressive ‘muah’ noise, because that’s what fake Italians do, as a form of thanks, and lets you go work your magic on the coffee machine.

You’re pretty integrated into The Beef, at this point. How long has it been? You don’t really need this list of orders, but it’s good to visually ingrain in your brain. You’re thankful to Mikey for investing in a bunch of Torani’s syrups for your coffee dreams. You’re here enough for it to be worth it, anyways.

You’re probably gonna start being here a lot more, soon. Well, maybe.

You haven’t told anyone yet, about what your dad told you this morning. That he’s gotta retire, soon. Like soon, soon. Now, you’re faced with a decision— Keep going with this EMS thing until your body fails and you need to be wheeled out by your own coworkers, or take on ownership of a small family business directly after the fucking pandemic. Really good options, here.

You’re leaning towards the latter, at the moment. You’re leaning towards being called here, for half your jobs. It’d be hard to make ends meet on just whatever crack change Mikey is able to pay you— But you used to bartend in college— You could work dailies whenever you’re short. Probably. It probably won’t be that hard. Could it be harder than what you’re doing now? Could it be harder than watching someone flat line? Probably not.

Ebra, watered down black coffee. T, two sugars, one milk, cinnamon and chocolate syrup. Marcus, spiced coffee. Sweeps, water in a deli cup— A delicacy. Richie, two sugars, cinnamon syrup, ideally boiling hot.

But to be fair, people need someone like you. People need paramedics. Is it selfish for you to decide you can’t handle it anymore? Should you let your body break before you let yourself go on one? Fuck. Fuck. Where’s Mikey? You’re feeling the knots build up again.

Out back. Richie said he’s out back. You pick up your coffee, and Mikey’s— cinnamon and caramel, this time— And head out back.

And you see a sight that you’ve actually seen plenty of times.

You’ve just never seen it in the back alley of The Beef. You’ve just never seen it happen to a friend. You’ve just never seen it happen to Mikey. You don’t drop your coffee cups in some sort of dramatic shock, or anything like that. Because that would take time. It’d take too much time to be shocked. You just turn around, immediately, partially crashing into the door as you run back in, breaking the mugs and spilling scalding hot coffee over your hands and chest— You don’t feel it, you don’t give a fuck.

“Cousin!”

You’re a mom friend. That’s what Syd used to say. You carry Tums, painkillers, cough drops, pepto— All in your purse or pockets. You keep a lighter on hand. You keep safety pins— All ranging in size, just in case of a clothing mishap. You keep kid’s band-aids in your wallet. You’re a mom friend. Everyone used to find you also carrying a naloxone kit a bit dramatic, like you were overdoing it. You always hoped they were right; that it would never be used. Regardless, you'd always replace it when it expired.

“Cousin get my fucking bag, now!”

“Right.” Carmen’s honestly kind of surprised, to be needed. But it’s probably just cover, to talk. People don’t typically need people like him, especially not Richie. He nods to David. “Chef.”

“Chef.” David nods back. He looks at Richie. “Where’d your translator go?”

The fuck? Richie does not look phased, at all. He also looks like he’s been crying— So it might just be that nothing phases him, right now— But at the very least, Carmen would expect some surprise. So this disrespect must not be new. Why didn’t he tell him?

Maybe he did, actually. Maybe that’s what happened forty minutes ago? How’d that lead to you leaving?

“My what?” Richie knows exactly what David’s getting at, but he asks anyways, to embarrass the fucker.

But David doesn’t feel embarrassment, it’s just not in him. “Your somme.”

“She had to leave early.”

“Ah,” He nods, “You’ve got her number, by chance?”

A deep and sharp exhale, through Richie’s nose, as he desperately tries to be a good host. Tries to be star material. But he runs his tongue across his top teeth and he just can’t bring himself to bite it. Richie hates both of the men in front of him right now. “I do, I do, actually— I’ve had her number for three years, memorized, y’know why?”

David shrugs, delighted to upset someone. “She your wife or something?”

A sharp, terrifying chuckle, honestly— One that hides any sign of a smile. Rich steps forward. “Oh, I should be so lucky. I would be so fucking lucky, if a woman like that—” And he pivots his head, to speak very deliberately, to Carmen. “Decided for some Godforsaken fuckin’ reason, that I was worth an ounce of her precious time— Let alone her hand.”

“If only, truly, David.” Still looking at Carmen, squarely in his face. “If fuckin’ only. If I had someone like that— I’d be on hand and fucking knee, for her.”

“Chef.” Carmen’s talking to David but looking at Richie, but that might also be because he can’t look anywhere else.

“Chef.” David shrugs, whatever fight here is beyond him. He doesn’t fucking care. Carmen knows the Michelin thing was bullshit—Certainly David can put in a good word, but inspectors are anonymous, that’s the whole point. But his stupid fucking Exec wanted to see if Carmen would stoop so low as to take the bait. It also wouldn’t hurt to get your number, you’re perfect. Carmen doesn’t think he’d have taken the bait, but the fact that he’s not sure speaks volumes.

David steps back into The Bear, and an Executive Chef and his dead brother’s best friend stand outside their restaurant. There’s a joke in here somewhere, and it’s probably Carmen.

“I’d fucking kill him.” You shake your head, when Mikey tries to brush off the end of his story like it’s no big deal. “I can’t believe no one fuckin’ said anything.”

“They might’ve.” He sniffs, arms crossed— Guarding himself. He sits opposite of you, both sitting on the floor of his office, backs against either wall. “But I couldn’t fuckin’ hear anything but him— And then the fucking car, obviously.”

You can tell he’s trying to move on. He wants you to ask if his mom was okay. You don’t honestly care, and you don’t care if that makes you a bad person, either.

“You’re not nothing, Mikey.”

It’s close to midnight, a humid but cool August midnight. A week or so, since Mikey’s overdose. You’re finally christening your jumpsuit with a patch from The Beef, on the left shoulder. You do keep stabbing yourself with the sewing needle— If you were sleeping beauty you’d be fucking dead.

“I know.”

“Mikey, you’re not.”

“Don’t fucking Good Will Hunting me.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” You both laugh, but you’re still stuck with him, at that dining table, in your head. You’re still hearing Uncle Lee screaming, despite never actually hearing it. “They should’ve said something.”

“It’s different when you’re there.” He shrugs, again. “Hard to speak in those rooms.”

Your lips stay tight, for a moment. There’s a long silence of just staring at each other, because you want him to know that you’re completely serious when you say— “I would’ve said something.”

“Sug tried to say somethin—” “She told you to stop, that’s bullshit.” “She was mediating—”

“And why the fuck were you the one that needed to calm down, exactly?” You frown, deeply. You don’t have anything against Sug, but this story just rubs you the wrong way. The way no one was on his side verbally. “Just cause you’re the guy, means you can’t stick up for yourself? I hate that shit.”

He thinks on that, for a moment; because no one has ever said the thing out loud, never acknowledged it. He nods, tucking one knee up to rest an arm on it. “It sucks, being the guy.”

“It fucking sucks to be the guy!” You shout back, emphatic, practically jumping to agree— You jab yourself again. “Fuck, ow— Yes, it sucks.”

“And—” You’ve really opened a faucet for him. “And no one wants you to acknowledge that you’re the guy— Like you can take the compliment, but you can never say ‘I know, I’m doing it on purpose.’”

You poke at the tip of your nose with one hand and then to Mikey with the other, bang on. “No one wants the guy to know they’re the guy!”

“We always know!” “We always fucking know!” “We’re the guy on purpose!”

It’s rare for people like you two to talk and actually get along. The typical stereotype is that two sweethearts will always end up butting heads, too intimidated— But instead, you’re both just able to honestly commiserate over being who you are. The Guy. The Dependable One. The Head.

“You shouldn’t have to always be good and—and like, understanding of every single fucking person— Especially when they’re a dick!” You yell, exasperated. “You are allowed to fucking stick up for yourself!”

He tightens his lips in a line, because he agrees, but he has been so trained to lay down and take it. To take the teeth; it’s one of the many many jobs of being the guy. You know it just as well. He sighs, “I know.”

“You’re worth standing up for, Mikey.” You emphasize. They should’ve said something. It shouldn’t have been on you. You shouldn’t have had to defend yourself. They should’ve protected you, like you did for them. Like you always do for them.

His eyes flicker, a bit. He clears his throat and punches his chest, shaking his head out of it, because if he doesn’t, he might actually fucking cry, and that’s not what the guy does. “Okay.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He kicks your foot with his. “Now tell me some fucked up thing that happened to you, Jack.”

You laugh, and it quickly turns into a groan as you try to come up with something. “I uh… Oh! I fuckin’ hate the nickname ‘Jack’, that’s something.”

“Oh?” He leans forward, teasingly intrigued— You’ve thrown him a bone, because you’re the guy, too. He’s able to focus on this in lieu of himself.

You nod and continue. “My dad gave it to me, when I was really really little, like five or six— And it was ‘cause I like— For a kid, I was really into uhm, like— Like everything?”

“Like a nerd?” “Like a nerd.”

You chuckle. “I liked helping him go on jobs, and barely being able to hold flashlights. And I liked learning what all the wires and the pipes do— I liked doing chores and like— Making shit for people, or doing shit for people, if it made ‘em happy.” You’re a little too zoned in, on your sewing. The motion helps keep you grounded. “And so he would go like Awe, my helpful little Jack of all Trades, you can do it all.”

You pull the string up and out of the fabric, taught, dramatically high. “Which like, of course he was trying to be like, a good dad and hype me up— But my kid brain just garbled it and translated ‘you can do it all’ to ‘you have to do it all.’”

“Damn.” He cringes but laughs, sympathizing. “You got ‘guy’d’ at fuckin’ five?”

“Well, when did you get ‘guy’d?!” You snap back, he takes a moment to think about it, sighing.

He shrugs. “Probably five.” “Exactly!”

You both laugh, a bit too aggressively, honestly; compensating for the sting. Mikey sniffs, adding. “So that’s why you hate it? ‘Cause of the weight?”

“‘Cause of the weight.” You nod. “Like a constant reminder, that I need to be like— constantly at service.”

“Yeah.” He nods, eyes looking down. Thinking about far too much, and though you have become his closest confidant, there are still parts of him that he won’t show. “Drinking helped?”

“Drinking helped.” You close the last stitch on the patch. “Which is funny, because that whole thing started from wanting to be helpful.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“There was uhm—” You can’t help but laugh a little, at the ridiculousness of it. “There was this girl, and she was my best friend, and she fucking loved— Or I guess still loves— Cooking. And even as a dinky little highschooler, she’d have me try shit, and it’d be like— So luxe.”

“Right.” Mikey smiles, thinking of all the dishes that have been foisted on him by the precocious cook in his life.

“And I wanted to be like… equally impressive. So I started doing research on wine pairings and shit, so I could have something to talk to her about, have somethin’ to say other than wow great job— Because I could tell she always wanted more.”

“And so you became an alcoholic?” “I haven’t gotten there yet!” “Well stop burying the lead!” “Oh don’t you point a finger when it comes to burying a fucking lead.” “Oh, fuck you.”

“Anyways!” You clap a hand on your knee, casting aside the completed sew job. “I’d give her pairings based on research— still teens, so we couldn’t drink yet, but she appreciated the thought. And then I went to college and she went to CIA and we were talking and then we graduated and suddenly we weren’t…” You knock your fist against your hand a couple times. “We weren’t talking, anymore.”

“And so you became an alcoholic?” “Kinda.” “Oh. I was being sarcastic.” “Yeah, dontchu feel guilty as fuck now?” “What happened?”

“It was easy.” You shrug. “I started working at pubs in college, I was getting free drinks all the time, I was trying more wines for her— I didn’t really see it as a problem, because like, I didn’t do it to function, I never reached for anything like ‘oh I fucking need this.’”

“That’s how it starts.”

“That’s how it fuckin’ starts.” You nod. “Then suddenly we weren’t talking and I became an E-M-T, and then suddenly I was watching people y’know, live through the worst moment of their lives or die, and I— Suddenly I did need that drink.” You should’ve just called her. She would’ve done a lot more for you than a bottle could. But you were stupid and tired, and still are.

“Who coulda thunk it?” “I know! Ridiculous.”

“How long you been stable, again?”

“Six months, four days… But who’s counting?” You laugh, and so does he.

You’re both very literally counting. And the buzzer of a timer going off on your phone reminds you of that. You both stare at it, in a daze, as it officially hits Twelve in the morning. Once you silence it, you look to Mikey.

“Michael The Bear Berzatto, you have officially been sober for twenty-four hours.”

He smiles, no teeth, but he smiles. “Gimme.”

“Be patient!” “I am being the most patient a person can be.” “Yeah that’s fair.”

You opt to go for the cupcake first, a big One candle sticking out of it. “This is stupid.” Says Mikey. “Have some fucking whimsy in the face of adversity.” Says you, pulling out your disposable camera.

“Do we need photos?” “What the fuck else are we gonna put in my folder?” “I dunno, write me sonnets.”

“Do you want sonnets?” You ask, and the worst part is Michael can tell you’re being sincere. You would write him sonnets, if he only asked. You would do anything, if he only asked. You quit being an EMT, immediately after seeing the state he was in, last week. You are here for Michael, and he only has to ask.

He shakes his head and blows out the candle when you lift the cupcake to his face, and he makes a wish to whatever higher power exists, that he won’t drag you down with him.

You thread a 24 Hours in Recovery chip onto the embroidery thread you were using and tie it off. When you present it to him, he bends his head down. “Chip me.”

“That’s not what chip me means.” “It means something?” “I’m pretty sure chipping someone means shooting someone—” “Well Google it, Chip.” “Well, fuck, ok— Chip?”

He shrugs, “Better than Jack, no?”

You throw the necklace over his neck, like you’re knighting him. You grow a great degree softer. Even when he’s deliberately not supposed to be The Guy, when he’s supposed to be working on himself, he’s still your guy. Still looking out for you just as much as you look out for him. He will never realize that you consider the exchange equal.

“Yeah, better than Jack.”

“This sobriety thing is going to be easy.” “ —Okay, so— The thing is, everyone kinda says that after twenty-four hours and then a week or two in, it actually hits—” “It’s gonna be so easy.” “I love that you think that and I want you to keep that hope up, I also think maybe let’s just be easy on ourselves if it gets hard—” “It’s not gonna get hard.” “That’s what she said—” “Fucking gross!”

He throws his arm over your shoulder, a loving noogie, but a noogie nonetheless. You try to hit him from below, it’s a failed flailing. You both start laughing and he stops, opting to just hold you there. You hold his forearm with your hands, and sigh.

“...Even when it’s not easy, we’re on the same team, okay? Don’t forget that. That we’re on the same team and I love you.”

He squeezes you a little, bicep curling. In fifteen seconds you will complain that he’s choking you, but right now, he says, “I’m not gonna forget you love me, Chip.” and neither of you know this is a lie, yet.

“I’m sorry.” Carmen sniffs, is he actually going to cry? Holy shit, he might cry. “I don’t know what I said—”

“You don’t know what you said?” Richie scoffs, he can’t help but laugh. “You don’t know what you fuckin’ said? Ah— It’s— It’s all good, man. You don’t know what you said, so it’s all good—”

“I’m apologizing—” “Nonono— No— It’s all good, I don’t need a fuckin’ apology. I know how you feel now, so it’s all fuckin’ good.”

“I love you—” “You love me? You love me? Oh, that would’ve been nice to hear half a fucking hour ago.”

Has it really only been thirty minutes?

“No— No, you know what?” Richie takes a choked breath, pressing his index finger over his nose and mouth, then points it to Carmen. “If that’s what your fuckin’ love is— I don’t fuckin’ want it. And I don’t want that shit for Chip, either— So leave her the fuck out of your fuckin’ love or whatever the fuck you think that is, too.”

That one hurts, because it’s true. Carmen can’t say anything to that; the silence just eggs Richie on more. “Oh, was that a low blow, to you? Cause I’d say saying it was her fault was a pretty low fucking blow— Kinda below the belt shit, if you ask me—”

“What?”

A silence louder than anything either of them have ever heard hangs in the air.

“Fuck you mean what?”

“I said what?” Carmen’s spit still feels like glass, he is destroying his throat. “What—What did I say?”

Stunned, Richie is stunned. And he can’t tell if Carm’s lack of cognizance in the situation makes him more or less angry. He’s pretty sure it’s more. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Cousin, what the fuck did I say to her?”

“You said she failed him.”

Yeah, Carmen’s gonna cry. Carmen is absolutely going to cry. Not weeping, but a tear. Just the one. Just the one, and the dry heaving. The dry heaving and just short of falling over, managing at the last minute to fall onto his rear. He slides his back against the full length window of The Bear. All the guests will get to witness his full blown meltdown. Who fucking cares. He cards through his semi-matted hair, again— It’s not fucking working. It’s not working and he might as well tear his hair out because there’s no reason for it anymore if you're not in it.

“I am a monster.” Not said like a question, not said with emphasis, not choked. Completely monotone. Zero pulse. Said as a fact as simple as the sky is blue. And it is. Because now that he remembers that one thread, he can follow it back. “I am bullshit.”

It’s hard to kick someone, when they’re down. It’s hard to say all the things you want to say to a person, when they’re just saying it about themselves. Richie just stares, debating his options. He could so easily choose to destroy what’s left of Carmen. Frankly, Carm’s sitting at the perfect angle to kick his fucking teeth in. Richie came out here with full intent of throwing Carmen through the window. Came out here with the full intent of proving he’s a fucking problem.

“...I don’t know how to fix it.” But Carmen looks up at him, with a never before seen level of humility. “How do I fix it?”

His best friend loved this guy, and unfortunately you also seem to be on the verge of loving this guy. And even more regrettably, Richie loves this guy. He shrugs, and to any onlookers, his response would seem to be lacking any level of empathy.

“Stop being you.”

“You don’t love me!”

“Of course we fuckin’ love you!”

“You don’t fucking love me!”

Like tidal waves, Richie and Mikey crash against either side of the walk-in freezer door. Mikey desperately trying to escape the freezer; you and Richie desperately trying to keep him in.

Your phone rings, in the middle of this. “Ah, shit, she’s calling back, hold on—” You slide your back off the door slowly, giving Richie time to place extra weight where your body was to keep it closed as Mikey relentlessly slams. He’s pivoted to screaming like— Well, a bear, now.

You move just a few feet away— Enough to fog up the yelling, but not enough that you couldn’t run back to Richie if his arms start to numb.

“Yo, T.” You answer, thankful that somebody has finally returned your fucking calls. To be fair, it’s painfully early— But how is no one awake an hour before they have to clock in? C’mon.

“We’re doing this because we love you, fuckin’ numb nuts!”

“Don’t be fuckin’ mean when he’s in a vulnerable state!” You kiss your teeth, yelling to Richie behind you, just as Tina tries to say hi.

“I am not a fucking patient, Chip!” Another slam, another violent jiggling of the door handle. You’re pretty sure that shit is going to break off one day, if he keeps doing that. You don’t know how right you are now, but you will in a year or so. “Open the fucking door!”

You only remember you’re on the phone with Tina when she pipes up, vaguely hearing the yelling on her end. “...Two week milestone going well?”

“Just fucking peachy, T.” You grimace, rubbing the space between your brows. “You think it’s healthy to lock him in the freezer? I feel like we are fucking this up.”

“Why’s he in the freezer?”

“Guess who was—” You turn your head to Richie, when you speak into the phone. “So fucking stupid— And left his fucking xanax just out in the open with his unfinished breakfast?”

“I apologized—” “You didn’t do nothin’ wrong, Cousin! Now open the fucking door!”

“Yeah, I think freezer is the right call.” Says Tina; you’re both not sure if that’s true, but at the very least when he’s in there he can’t hurt himself or either of you. But fuck, he must be cold. Maybe that’s good for his nervous system? Every yell just mounts with guilt— But you’re his sponsor now. You are not his friend right now, you’re his mentor and you’re meant to do this. This is definitely— slam— the right thing—scream—to do.

“Yeah, probably.” You nod, to no one. “Well, basically, if you can let everyone know to just— Not fucking come in, today, or at the very least not come in for like— At least three hours. Maybe six. It’s not like you can work anyways, the freezer’s off limits until further notice.”

“You sure you don’t need us to come in?”

“Ah, T, that’s a nice thought but—” You wince, as you hear a crash from inside the walk-in. “I don’t know if it’s better or worse, for more people to witness this.”

Richie can tell what the crash is, because he himself has dropped shit an innumerable number of times in that walk-in before. “—Did you just knock over the fuckin’ stock—” “Fuck yourself! Fuck yourself! This is my fucking restaurant! Let me the fuck out, Richard!”

“Let’s just say call me back in three hours.” Is what you settle on. You don’t want to see this, and you don’t want anyone else to have to see this. And when Mikey eventually comes out of his rage state, he will be glad that the only two people that actually saw him like this, are his two closest friends. “Can you let everyone else know?”

“Yeah baby, I’ll let ‘em know.” First time Tina’s called you baby with sincerity instead of sarcasm, you wish you could savour it, but you’re so distracted with everything else that you really don’t even notice it. “Keep yourself safe too, alright?”

“Okay, Mama.” You reply with what is really only half sarcasm, and let her go. You sidle up to Richie, back on holding the door closed duty. Backs against the walk-in door, holding Mikey in, despite punch after punch after punch. He’ll wear himself out, eventually, but you’re terrified about how long that’s going to take. So is Richie.

He nods to your phone. “How long?”

You don’t need to check to know. “In six hours, he’ll be at two weeks.” You wince as one of Mikey’s hits against the door very directly targets your back, putting it in knots. “But it’s not like he’s suddenly going to go, oh well it’s been two weeks so I’m normal now, though.”

Richie just nods, pensive. “M’sorry.”

You shake your head. “I was just bein’ a bitch, we’re all getting used to it, I gettit, just try to be safer.”

He nods again, looking down at you as the beating seems to slow down. Richie tries to imagine a world where you two aren’t here right now; for some reason, he finds that universe more miserable. “We’re so fucked.” Because here it’s you two. You’re so fucked but it’s you two. It will take more than a year for you to figure out that’s how Richie feels.

“I know.” You punch back against the door, alerting Mikey— Not that he wasn’t already alert, and speak to both of them. “Same team, though!”

One last resounding body slam into the door, with everything Mikey has— It moves, just a bit, but not at all enough to open it. And then, a long silence. To the point where you and Richie look at each other, worried if Michael has somehow just died in there. But then a quiet voice speaks, like a white flag being raised.

“Same team.”

You look to Richie for permission, he’s just as clueless as you are here, as to what the right call is. With the most trepidation one could have, you put your hand on the handle and just start to pull on it, not even close to opening it. But Mikey notices the way the hinge moves by a hair, on the other side.

“Don’t open it.” You know he’s up to the door, just opposite of you. Not capable of looking at you; not capable of looking at him. “Six hours. It’s just six hours.”

But you can hear each other. And maybe that’s all you really ever needed. To be able to hear each other, even when he’s not here.

“Six hours. Same team.”

“I don’t know how.” Carmen’s nose twitches. “I don’t know how to stop being fucking—Garbage— I’ve tried—” “Have you?”

It’s a bit knife twisting, from Richie, but necessary. “Have you done the work? Cause it’s— I don’t think you have, Carm.”

“...What the fuck kinda work can I do, to fix me—?” Richie snaps his fingers, pointing at Carmen, interrupting him. “That— That is the exact fuckin’ problem with you, Cousin.”

Carmen almost rolls his eyes, putting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. “What, that I’m self-aware?”

“That you just fuckin’ give up.” “I don’t just give up—” “You do! You give up and you go wah, I’m a Chef with issues and I’m gonna make it everyone else’s fucking problem—” “I am asking for help—” “Are you? Because the last person that helped you just ran out crying.”

Richie exhales, eyes closed. There’s a long forced silence, as a few tables full of patrons exit The Bear, awkwardly shuffling past what is clearly a crisis between the people that have been serving them tonight.

“That was below the belt, I’ll admit.” Says Rich, once they’re out of earshot.

Carmen just shakes his head, though he cannot look at Richie, though he can’t refute anything.

Richie steps next to where Carmen sits, and like an olive branch, Carmen lifts up his arm to offer his cigarette. Richie accepts, thank God— Thank you, for softening him up, because if you hadn’t, again, Carmen would be going headfirst through the fucking window right now.

“Don’t yell ‘t me—” That honestly hurts more than getting thrown through a window. “But I don’t think you got Andrea, at all.”

Andrea? Oh. “Chef Terry?” The Ever’s owner, Richie means.

“Andrea.” Richie nods, taking a puff. “Every second counts— I don’t think you got it.”

Carmen just shrugs, shaking his head, sure, he worked there for years and Richie worked there for days, but sure, he’s the one that didn’t get it. “Yeah? What’d I miss?”

“It’s not meant to make you fuckin—” He gestures to the general form of Carmen. “Tweak. It’s not about speed or— or— like firin’ off on all fuckin’ cylinders.”

“Then what is it?”

“It counts because it counts.” Richie hands the cig back to Carmen. “It’s— The fucking—” He kisses his teeth, trying to figure out the best way to explain. “When you took like, a million goddamn years to make that fuckin’ mont— Mont— What was it?”

“Montmorency.” Your cherry sauce. Carmen spent too fucking long reducing it, yesterday. He redid it like five times. He’d redone it so many times the autopilot in his brain fucked up that fucking plate yesterday, and it threw his entire life into a spiral. No. That's not what happened. He threw his life into a spiral.

“That was worth it, cause it— Cause it took time. Does that— Am I making any fuckin’ sense? Terry did this shit better, fuck.” Richie rubs a hand over his face, you’d probably be able to explain this better too. “It’s not the thing you’re doing that makes it count, it counts because you’re doing it.”

The value is in the time, not what is delivered. It does not need to be the most special, hyper condensed, hyper focused, upper echelon second to count. It will count because it counts. Time spent is worth it, no matter what was bought. Every second you spend, will always count. All the work and the not work and the love and the not love— It all counts. It counts because it counts. You care therefore you care. Any effort made is good effort.

Why does Carmen keep taking eons to learn what you are always trying to tell him?

The door opens, again. Instead of more patrons, Syd steps out— Wondering where the fuck her Exec and Host have gone. “Are we good?”

“No.” Says her Exec and Host. She nods, that’s good, cause she’s not good either.

“Who’s runnin’ house?”

“No one.” Lies Syd, Tina’s running the back, Sweeps is running the front, but she wants to freak Carmen out a little. She grabs the cigarette from Richie. “Burn the money, I say.”

“So, what you’re asking me to do— If I’m understanding, correctly, which— I might not be— You want me to take all my money, okay, and place it in a fucking furnace? Is that right?”

“So I’m sensing—” You curl your hand in the air. “A touch of hostility, which is fair.”

Bargaining with Uncle Jimmy isn’t the easiest thing in the world— Especially when this is your first time meeting him— And you’re begging him for money. Well, helping Mikey beg him for money.

“Listen, Uncle, please.” Mikey swallows, leaning in, elbows on the table. It’s nearly the end of January. New year, fresh start. No better time to pitch a half-baked pipe dream in the middle of The Beef’s dining room. “It’s not like I’m brand new to the restaurant gig— We turn profit, here, we can fuckin’ pay people.”

“Can you pay me?” “We will—” “Or you could just let me cut my losses—” “I wanna do something real, Uncle.”

“Why’s she here, again?” You shrink, when Cicero points at you. You swallow.

“I’m here as… Proof… That he wants to do something real.” You have to stop yourself from doing jazz hands, doubling down on the awkwardness will not make it go away, that is sadly not how that works.

Jimmy stares, for a moment, the cogs in his brain almost audibly whirring, as he stares at the space between you and Mikey, where you sit, at the other side of the booth. “Are you having a fuckin’ baby or somethin?”

The visceral reaction from your side of the booth is immediate. The worst part is he’s not even the first one to ask something like this— No, the manager at Wells Fargo was.

“What the fuck!” “Come on, Uncle…” “Do I— Do I look like a Milf, what the fuck is going on—” “She could be my daughter!” “Alright— So that is a little far, but the sentiment—”

“Alright, shut the fuck up, what is so fucking real that I’m suddenly going to hack up—”

Mikey tosses his necklace onto the table. It shouldn’t be physically possible, because it’s on a string, but it still manages to roll for a comically long time, like a coin, over to Jimmy. To thine own self be true. One Month.

“You will not be giving your money to some fucking junkie, Uncle—”

You wave a hand, interrupting Mikey. “Verbiage.”

He swallows and nods, taking the note. A hard lesson to learn. “You will not be giving your money to— To— You— You’re gonna give your money to someone who is trying, alright?”

Uncle Jimmy hasn’t looked up from the chip since it landed; Mikey continues. “And— And I’m gonna bring Carmy on, and we’re gonna do like—Like high level shit. Like a real fuckin’ Michelin level—”

“How many times have you gotten to a month?”

“First time.”

Jimmy frowns, crossing his arms. “How many times have you tried getting to a month?”

“Five.” Michael says, “Six.” you correct. Christmas was hard. Christmas was extremely fucking hard. You weren’t with the Berzattos, upon Mikey’s request— And neither was Carmen, upon Mikey’s ignoring him completely. And that made things a little fucking hard.

Jimmy just nods, arms still crossed. He’s forming some sort of plan, in his head, you’re just not sure what it is yet. He looks to you. “So you’re his sponsor, then?”

“Yessir.” “Do you feel qualified to do that?” “No-sir.”

Mikey kicks you under the table, your proclivity for honesty is not doing a great job selling this whole restaurant idea. You kick him back. “I don’t think it’s possible for me to feel qualified.”

“You sober?” “Not really.” “Well that’s kind of a key factor, I’ve heard.”

You sigh and lean forward, putting your hands in your lap. This is Mikey’s Uncle— Well, is he, actually? Unsure. But he gives as much of a fuck as you do, so you spill your guts, because you know he’s poking because he’s worried that some kid is taking care of Mikey and it’s the blind leading the fucking blind.

“I’m stable. I drink, sometimes— But never more than one glass, and never multiple days in a row. I’m coming up on a year, I still attend A-A— Though not as often as I’m told I should— And I’ve told Mikey that turbulent month long benders and a full blown decade long opioid addiction are not the same thing and I really shouldn’t be his sponsor.”

Mikey leans forward as well, then, meeting your level. “And I told Chip— And our coord— That I won’t do the program without her.”

After a long moment of silence, taking his time to digest every bit of information, Jimmy nods to the folder on the table. “N’ this?”

“It’s like a… Proposal?” You look to Mikey for help, he shrugs. This motherfucker— You’re not even a stakeholder in this, why are you talking? You turn back to Jimmy. “It’s like a promise.”

You open the folder, there’s loose sketches you’ve put together of The Bear’s signage, plus Carmen’s original piece— It was fun and weird, to work off of an artist you’ve never met before. There’s also cut outs from the New York Time’s and Food and Wine magazine showing off his award winning talents.

“We make money now.” Mikey finally chimes in, crossing his arms. “Imagine what we could do with him.”

“It would be cool!” You wingman. A little too excited for someone who’s never even breathed in a Michelin restaurant. “It’d be cool to have, like, a fine-dining establishment on North Orleans.”

“Or you’d completely cut out the audience that already likes The Beef.”

Mikey defends, “The people don’t know what they like, yet.” while you spread out some more papers across the table, showing off screenshots of food Carmen’s texted, that Mikey has never replied to. “They will like this shit— It’s— It’s art, Uncle. When they see this, they won’t give a shit about sandwiches.”

“They’ll give a shit about the price.”

“Uncle, I’m the guy.” Mikey uncrosses his arms, straightening up his posture, because now it’s serious. “I can— We can do this.”

As you continue to spread out papers, Uncle Jimmy stops you, seeing a peculiar page in the pile. He points to it, so you fish it out and hand it to him. He squints. “Joint bank account?”

You nod. “It’s so I can keep an eye on his spending and withdrawals.” Mikey tries not to wince at the fact a kid is in charge of managing his finances. You try not to wince at the fact that despite managing his finances, he's still reset six times.

“Y’know banks are a fuckin’ scam, right?”

You do not entertain Jimmy for a second, finally losing your whimsy. Your leg is shaking underneath the table— Thank God these tables are bolted. “I know that this is the first time in twenty years that my best friend is keeping savings.”

Not just living paycheck to paycheck, anymore. Not spending every penny on painkillers, anymore. Mikey is saving up because now there is a future to spend it on. Cicero swallows, nodding, eyes looking down, thinking deeply.

When he speaks again, it’s to say the most insane thing you’ve ever heard. “Ten grand a week.”

Your reply is in sync with Mikey, both jumping forward in your seats. “What?”

“Every week.” Jimmy pushes the chip back to your side of the table. “Every week that you keep going, that’s ten grand.”

You flail your hand under the table, grabbing for Mikey’s— He does the same, and it’s like a contest for who’s going to break who’s hand first, with how hard you’re holding each other.

Mikey’s first to ask the question, “Is that… Starting now or starting since I—”

“I’m so glad you asked, fuck no, that’s starting now.” He points to you, now. You flinch. “You’re gonna piss test him every fuckin’ week. I’m not fucking around about this.”

“Right. Heard.” You can only nod, because if you express anything else, it might just be screaming forever and ever. He pivots back to Mikey.

“And it’s gonna be cash— It’s not going in that fuckin’ joint, aright?” “Heard.”

“...Alright. Deal.” Cicero comes forward in his seat, and shakes Mikey’s hand. And despite not being a stakeholder, he reaches for yours, too; you shake it, and after a moment, he ruins this excitement stirring in the room, moving out of the booth. “I gotta piss, now.”

When he leaves for the bathroom, Mikey leans his head to you, putting his chin on your shoulder, whispering, “Art of the deal.”

You push his face away immediately, laughing. “Shut the fuck up! Why did you make me lead that shit!?”

Tomorrow Mikey will relapse again, and you’ll reset his necklace for the seventh time, but you don’t know that yet. Carmen’s gonna be so excited, when he finally comes back to Chicago and gets a sober brother and his dream restaurant. You’re excited to meet the guy, one day. Fingers crossed he likes you.

“That was fucking nuts.” Sydney decides that’s the best way to surmise it. “Like more than usual.”

“I’m aware.” Carmen can only nod, and despite the fact that he’s just going to lie down and take this, it does not remove the bitter feeling in her heart at all. Syd’s fucking mad, and she wants him to know.

“I’ve— I’ve literally only ever seen her cry like, like during Pixar movies or when we graduated. Like she just— That’s not a thing she does. I, I’m so— I literally don’t know what the fuck to do, right now.” For a second, she thinks her vision is flickering. “Oh my god, am I finally having a stroke?”

The three restaurateurs look up to see their neon white logo of a bear’s head, flickering and occasionally buzzing out. Richie’s the first to speak, as they all blankly stare at it. “Who are we gonna call, f’this?”

If this was yesterday, or maybe even if this was an hour ago, it wouldn’t be a question as to who they’d call. Carmen scratches the back of his head, the flaking hair gel is getting itchy. “Ted?”

“Who’s Ted?” Asks Syd; that’s not Tony, Terry or Tommy.

“Ted Fak.” Richie and Carmen answer at once, she almost gasps.

“They’re multiplying?”

Richie rolls back into his memory. “There’s eight— No, fuck, nine of them— I always forget Avery.”

Sydney just nods and hugs her shoulders for warmth. They all keep staring at the flickering bear, like moths.

“I don’t—I don’t have anyone, except her, y’know?” Syd sniffs. “Like after my dad, it’s— it’s literally just her. She’s my best and only friend.”

Carmen presses the palms of his hands over his eyes, “Heard.”

“I don’t want to choose between her and my career.” Carmen thinks she’s pausing, so he waits, but she’s not talking. That was the end of the sentence.

“Heard.”

“If that’s what getting a star takes, I don’t want it.” That’s huge. That’s a big statement, from Syd of all people. That gets the men to turn their heads from the light to her.

Syd continues to stare at the flickering bear, which lights up the two single straight streams of tears perfectly. It’s silent. She’s not snivelling or anything, she just shakes her head in tight swivels, biting her inner cheek. “It’s just— it’s just not worth that.”

“How can I fix it?” Maybe Syd will have a better answer than Richie did, something a little more actionable. She finally flits her gaze from the light down to Carmen, where he sits.

“Can you stay after close?”

“—Nobody in this motherfucking city knows transit etiquette— Why does everyone get on and go ‘wow I love standing in the walkway’— I’m so— There was so much seating just ahead of the blockage, Mikey, I’m so pressed, I’m literally—” You massage your brows, finishing up your rant from this morning’s commute. “I can’t. I can’t.”

“If you weren’t a little passenger princess, this wouldn’t be a problem, Chippy.” “I have my fucking license! I just don’t have a car!” “Then buy one!” “With who’s money!?” “Mine?”

A terrible running joke, from Mikey, is telling you to spend his money— The money he gets from staying sober. The money he’s saving for The Bear. The reason why he thinks this is funny, is because you have no fucking idea where he’s been putting it. But you know he hasn’t spent it, so that’s all that really matters.

You just huff, leaning back against the wall of his office as you watch him work, arms crossed and cringing as he futzes with the wiring. “You’re going to light us up like a Roman fucking candle.”

“It’s Jewish lightning—” “Top twenty-thousand reasons we do not say that— Number One—” “It’s gonna work! Just trust me!”

Mikey’s office looks a lot more lively, lately. He never cleans up the mugs of coffee you give him, every morning. He says it’s his way of tracking which flavour is his favourite, since you’re always switching up. It will never change from the chai spiced blend, and you both know that. It’d be more accurate of him to say he likes the sticky notes you tack on to each mug, saying you love him and saying he needs to keep going.

“I could fix it, y’know.” At that, Mikey turns away from his distressing handiwork to look at you.

“I know. But I wanna prove I can, too.”

That hits you right in the chest. You want to tell Mikey that he never has to prove anything, with you; never has to lift a goddamn finger. But he would hate to hear that. “Okay.”

You hear from outside the office, the back door opening. “Child incoming, no expletives please!”

“What the fuck is an expletive?” Mikey asks you, whispering.

You whisper back, leaning forward off the wall to close in on him. “It’s what you just did.”

Eva runs in, the way that kids do— The way they kinda waddle. Immediately up to you and Mikey. Uncle Mike and Aunty Chip, she calls you both. Sometimes Uncle Jack— Because she hasn’t completely grasped the concept of gender yet— Good, no one should.

“Watch!” You have yet to even say hi, before she immediately attempts to do a cartwheel in the middle of this very small office.

“Good job, Evie!” You clap, after she just barely lands safely on her shins.

She nods, “Can you do that?”

“Honestly? I don’t think I can.” You look up from her to Mikey. “Can you?”

“Can I cartwheel?” He stumbles back, slapping his hand over his chest. Gutted. “Can I cartwheel? Eve— She doesn’t think I can cartwheel.”

“Insane, Uncle.”

“Not what I said!” You can’t hold back your laughter, what a shining this kid has taken to her dad. “I’d love to see it, I really would!”

Mikey just shakes his head, kissing his teeth. How dare you offend his honour, in this way? This forty-two year old man can absolutely cartwheel with the best of them. In five minutes he definitely isn’t gonna eat shit in the dining room of his restaurant. He pats Eva on the shoulder. “You go with your dad and clear out some tables out front, I’m gonna need space.”

“You’re gonna break your neck, Mike.” Richie chimes in, standing in the doorway now, waiting for Eva to return to him. “I don’t wanna plan your funeral.”

“Please, you would plan a terrible funeral.” “That’s bull—”

“Expletive!” You cover Eva’s ears. She just laughs, looking up at you with that cute and bizarre blank kid stare. What a little patoot.

Richie looks to you, forgetting the bit for a moment, “Y'need a grocery run, tonight?”

You nod, removing your hands from Eva, but then she holds them there. Goddamnit, kids are an awful idea but she's fucking cute. “Pay you gas money in the form of Wendy's?”

“Marone!” Richie exclaims, poorly, grabbing your face by the chin and top of your head to kiss your cheek just short of a million times. “The perfect woman—”

“Not Italian!” is the synchronous reply from you and Mikey.

Richie rolls his eyes, “Not Italian— Fu—”

Eva interrupts him, taking as much as a shining to you as she does her father. “Exp—Expultive!” She looks at you for approval and you nod in delight.

“Just go set up front, would ‘ya?” Mikey brushes Rich off, the man just rolls his eyes, picking up his daughter from you to fly her off like an airplane.

“Let's set the stage for your Uncle’s neck injury, sweets. Bwwwwrrr—” Richie makes good airplane noises. Richie’s a good dad. You will never find a good time to tell him this. You watch Mikey’s back flex, as he cracks back into the hole of wires in the wall. He's been working hard on a lot of little things lately.

You will not realize he is trying to make things clean and square, until it is too late. Right now, you’re just happy, because, “You’re already at three weeks again, and you haven’t even noticed.”

“Oh, I fucking noticed.” He doesn’t face you, when he says it, but it’s with a hearty chuckle. He’s noticed it violently, he’s just getting very good at the first month, now— Well acquainted with the burn out. “But now there’s money on the line, I can’t lose.”

It’s not that money’s on the line. It’s that his brother is on the line now. And Mikey couldn’t do this for himself— but the guy could do it for his brother. So he’ll just be the guy, that’s what the guy’s do. Six hours, same team. Nine weeks, Mikey, come on.

“Well you’re doing good, I’m proud of you.”

“You believe in me?” He says it like he doubts your conviction. You nearly punch him in the back of the head.

“Of course I believe in you.”

Mikey bites his inner cheek, though you can’t see his face. “...Why are we keeping the candles?”

Ah. You’ve still got the one and two candles in his drawer with a lighter, ready for the next cupcake. They’re slowly but surely melting with each reset, eventually they’ll be incomprehensible. Do you believe in me? If you do, why are you saving them? Do you think we’ll need them? That’s what Mikey’s asking. You scoff.

“You’re so stupid.” “What the— I confide in you and I get this—”

You interrupt him, arms crossed. “One day, one week, one month, one year, fuckin— When we get to double digits? Ten months? One decade?”

He’s mum, at that. You add. “We’re getting our fucking mileage out of these candles, Mikey. I believe in you.” You think Mikey has a future, still. Mikey knows he doesn’t. He changes the subject because if he doesn’t, he’ll tell you everything and you will stop it.

“I want you to start talking to Carmen, when he comes back.” You should’ve asked Mikey why he was so certain Carmen would be coming back. But you weren’t smart enough.

“What the fuck?” You snort. “Okay, out of literally nowhere—” “You’d like him.”

“He sounds very nice.” “He’s not. He’s a—” “Ball buster, yes, you’ve told me.” “He’d like you.” “Why?” “Cause you’re you.”

“Wow, pretty inarguable there.” You can only smile, unable to see the wheels turn in Michael’s head. “Guess we’ll be besties.”

“I meant talk like talk—” “Are you trying to hook me up right now?” “He’s a virgin, so it’s definitely not a good deal for you—” “And— And why are we talking about your brother's sex life— Did we already explode and this is hell?” “I just want you to be prepared for what you’re getting into, he gets performance anxiety so—” “Mikey!”

“You’ll talk to him?” Mikey turns away from the wall, wanting you to look him in the eyes and promise him.

You shake your head and roll your eyes, but stick a hand out for the Berzatto to shake. “Yes, Bear, I’ll talk to your virgin Michelin star ranked brother.”

“Thank you! I ask for so little.”

After close, after everyone but Carmen, Sydney, and Richie leave, the three make plans to meet in Michael’s office. Carmen will go in ahead to hide your folder because he doesn’t want to see it himself and he absolutely doesn’t want anyone else to see it. Even if one of them could very well explain it, because he’s fucking in them. It’s fine. He looks at your wrapped up painting in the corner of his office. Carmen considers for what feels like a decade, whether or not he should open it. But he hasn’t earned a gift from you, so he doesn’t— Not for now, at least. He hasn’t earned your art right now.

Underneath your ICE folder is his notepad— The one he was scribbling recipes for his Exec into, the one he scribbled your recipe into, and underneath all that torn up paper— His list, from this morning. The non-negotiable rules he wanted— Wants? To add to The Bear. There’s twenty-seven. Half of them are spelt wrong as he wrote them while absolutely losing his shit, this morning. This list did not go over well, when it was proposed during family, at two in the afternoon. Some of these could still work though, right? At least the technique and the boxes and the—

Richie comes in, not knocking, and immediately spots the list. “Oh good.” He grabs the notepad and rips off the twenty seven points. Leaving only the title, NON-NEGOTIABLES.

“Come the fuck on—” Says Carmen. Richie rolls his eyes, tossing the list onto the desk. Richie can tear him and his stupid fucking list a new one another time— Richie and Carmen can sort out their own part of the fight in a week, when they take a twelve hour road trip. Right now though, they are both completely focused on you.

Sydney comes in with two labelled deli containers of coke. Time codes and everything, she can't turn it off. She hands one to Rich, the other one is for herself. That’s fine, soda on Carmen’s shredded throat really wouldn’t be great right now anyways. She takes a sip, looking over Carm's shoulder. “Oh, we’re doing a real list, now?”

Carmen just sighs, letting the dig go, because he deserves it. He clicks his pen, sitting down, ready to write, without hesitation. “Go.”

Richie leads, “You need to fucking relax.”

“Lay off her,” Sydney waves her hand over her neck. “Leave her the fuck alone, for like a week, minimum.”

“No— What? No— You should call her like now—” “Absolutely not the right move—” “Solve it hard and fast—” “Why hard—?”

“I’m just gonna wait.” Carmen decides, typically Syd is the right one, anyways. Plus if he hears your voice right now he might throw up and he doesn’t have your tums, anymore. “Next?”

“An exorcism.” Richie doesn’t laugh, when he says it. “Also read fuckin’ Runnin’ on Empty— By Doctor Webb.”

The two cooks just look at him, like Richie’s grown five thousand heads. He groans before they even say anything. “I’m fuckin’ well read, shut the fuck up— It’s—” He snaps his fingers, pointing to Carmen’s list, “It’s an audiobook, too, on fuckin’ Spotify— Listen to that shit on your commute you have no excuse.”

“Yes, Chef.” Carmen writes it down, he also writes down under things to look into, catastrophizing, while he’s at it. Richie watches over his shoulder, and adds, “Look into sublimation and behavourial dysfunction.”

Syd’s still reeling over the sudden character growth. “You need to relax with the self-help books.”

“Yeah, well you need to read Mark Wolynn’s ‘It Didn’t Start With You.’” Richie’s got lists of books now, instead of zingers. They somehow hit harder.

She’s got no come back for that other than a surprised pout and nod, taking her own phone out to write it down. “Yes, Chef.”

Carmen pipes in, not looking up from his list of to dos “Should I also read that one—” “Yes.” “Heard, Chef. Next?”

“It cannot be on Tony to be your fucking punching bag. If you’re tweaking— Keep that shit between you and your therapist—” Syd switches from her notes app to search, “We’re finding you a fuckin’ therapist.”

“Is that covered in our contract?” Didn’t he write it? Carmen doesn’t know.

“Doesn’t matter. Also I don’t know, but doesn’t matter.” Syd hasn’t read it yet. She also doesn’t know.

You are worth a couple out of pocket fees. Well, more importantly, Carmen is worth a couple out of pocket fees— Well, alright, he’ll discuss his weaknesses of self-prioritization with the therapist.

Before Carmen can even say next, Richie adds. “Also you smell like shit.” The hair gel is pungent in a bad way.

And before he can defend himself, Sydney adds, not looking up from her phone, “We’re going to fuckin’ Kohl’s after this and we’re getting you a skincare— And haircare— routine. You’re seconds away from breaking out, I bet you use fuckin’ Palmolive dish soap.”

“Well— I’ve been using Tony’s, actually—” “We know.” It’s a completely synchronized interruption.

“It’s been her signature scent, since highschool.” “Who do you think took her grocery shopping when she didn’t have a car?” “I thought I was having a flashback everytime you walked by in the kitchen, this past week.” “You should go back to it.”

“I know. I will.” He’s got every intention of re-upping on your shampoo and conditioner, when he’s taken on a shopping spree to get his shit together. Hopefully you won’t mind him copying you. “No more Five in One.”

“You’ve been using fucking five in one!?”

Carmen thought, yesterday, naively, that he would do right by you on Friday. He didn’t, he did the very opposite— But even if he did, that’s weak shit. Carmen’s not gonna do right by you for just one single fucking day. Carmen’s gonna do right by you, for the rest of his life. The three get to well over twenty seven points, and he has every intention of showing up to it. He’s gonna be your man, and he’s going to fucking earn that title. He’s going to prove it.

“Okay. So can you tell me what happened on February 22nd?” She’s a shit therapist. You’re imagining both you and her dead in your head. You’ve been imagining a lot of people dead in your head, for the last two weeks. Every time your dad comes to check on you, you imagine that he’s a ghost.

You imagine having a passing conversation with someone, maybe catching up with Syd, one day. And she’ll ask you ‘Meet any interesting people?’ and you’ll say ‘Yeah. But he killed himself.’ That’s gonna suck. You didn’t prepare for that one. So you need to prepare now. Look at all of your friends and family, and imagine they are dead— And introduce them as such. ‘That’s my friend Richie, he died.’ Make it hurt now, so it doesn’t hurt then.

You didn’t prepare enough. Didn’t do enough. Countless little mistakes and moments you missed. The therapist is looking at you, oh right, it’s your turn to talk again. You’ve told her all these cute little stories but now she wants to hear how the sad shit went. Or maybe it was all sad shit. Maybe it’s all coated in a film of grief, now.

You’ll tell her that Mikey was very thorough, with his plan that you didn’t know about. He waited until he thought you were out of the city— When he knew you’d be out of the city. When your sister in law delivered your nephew and you went to Oak Park to visit.

Just days before, you celebrated three months of sobriety with him and Richie— You’ll tell the therapist, excitedly, that this was his longest streak so far, it took him a year to reach three months— It was a big fucking deal. You were beaming all day. You didn’t realize, however, that days after Uncle Jimmy had made his deal with you two, that Mikey did the math. Figured out exactly how many weeks he’d have to be sober, to get three-hundred grand.

Thirty weeks. Roughly seven months and two weeks. He did it. Not in sequence, but he did it. You’re still not sure where that money is. Uncle isn’t either. Maybe Carmen will figure it out. It’s meant for him anyways. You’ll say that Carmen will figure it out in such a way that she asks— “And do you hold animosity? Towards his younger brother?”

You look at her like she’s a psycho, because she is. Replying incredulously, “I don’t fucking know him.”

‘My best friend Michael is dead.’ ‘My best friend, Mikey, is dead.’ Doesn’t sound right. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue.

“Do you wish you did?”

“I really couldn’t say I give a shit, ma’am. Can I tell you about the guy I did know, though?”

She nods, you roll the fuck on. You tell her that the morning after you got to your brother’s place— February 22nd, you all decided instead of staying for the week, as you’d planned, as Mikey planned, you’d instead go home early. Because as much as you wanted to be helpful, having more people in the house was stressing the new mom the fuck out. Understandable. So you took a train back to Chicago early.

You got home, and you found that you’d gotten some mail, waiting for you on the floor, shoved through the mail slot of your door. Bill, bill, invoice, spam, coupons, handwritten envelope— Ah. Mikey’s handwriting. A deep unsettling feeling burrowed its way into you. It just says For Chip. There’s no letter inside. No. There’s a debit card, his, of your joint bank account, there’s a key, yours, a copy of your key to this apartment, and a necklace, his— With his three month sobriety chip hanging off of it.

You call him, immediately. He doesn’t answer the first time. You call him again. He answers on the last possible ring.

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life— Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call with an old friend.

“Yo, Ice-y!” A classic nickname, reserved purely for phone calls with Mikey. Because in his phone, you’re 0ICEChip, so you’ll show up at the top of his contact list, if he’s ever found unresponsive. Typically a pro-tip reserved for those in hospice care.

You don’t entertain him. “Where are you?”

“I’m just out for a walk, sweetheart.” “Shut the fuck up out for a walk— Where the fuck are you?”

He hums at your snarky tone. “Nephew didn’t take a liking to you?” “I came home early.”

The silence is long, and you can hear the heavy wind coming through his phone. He’s outside. He’s somewhere outside. It’s a cold night. It’s usually not this cold at the end of February, but it really fucking came down, this morning.

“Oh.”

“Why did you leave this shit at my door? Where are you?” You thought of 0ICE but you didn’t think to have him turn his location on? Fucking idiot. Fucking idiot. You didn’t do enough. ‘My friend, Bear, is dead.’ You didn’t prepare enough. “Bear, c’mon, what’s going on? I told you, if we need to reset, it’s two steps forward, one step back, it’s okay—”

“It’s not.” “It is! We will get there!” “I’m not. You’re gonna get there, I’m not.” “That’s not true!” “I love you but we both know this was a pipe dream.”

“Mikey—”

“Chip, I’m not going anywhere. You’re— You’re fucking going somewhere. I can’t— I can’t let— We both know where I’m going and it’s nowhere you should begin to be.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me. You don’t get to make that call. I decide what I bet on— Mikey, where are you?” You’re walking out of your place, you hadn’t even closed the door before leaving again.

Fucking idiot, you should’ve bought a car. How are you supposed to get to him on foot and train? Fucking idiot. The snow is beating down, the wind is cutting into your face. ‘My best friend died on February 22nd. On the State Street Bridge.’— Why didn’t you get a fucking car? You didn’t do enough. You can’t remember any of your training, right now. What are you supposed to say? “Are you using?”

“No. No. I’m— This is me, Chip.” “No it’s fucking not, Mikey! Shut the fuck up, where are you!?”

“I love you, I didn’t want this to be— I-I—I’m not killing myself, Chip.”

“You’re not?”

You shouldn’t have believed him. You should’ve just kept walking. You would’ve figured out where he was, eventually. You should’ve called the coast guard, or some shit. Should’ve just figured it out.

“I’m not. I’m— I’m okay, I’m really just going for a walk— I-I just— I had a… I— I don’t want you to be my sponsor anymore. That’s it.” It made sense. He didn't want you to feel hurt, so he was hesitant. It made sense.

“Why?”

“Cause you’re a kid, and I can’t make you responsible for what I do.”

“I’m not a kid.” “To me, you are.” “Then we’ll find you someone else.” “Yeah, okay.”

You pause, for a good bit, listening to the shakiness of his breath. “You’re cold, Mikey.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re just cold.” That’s all that’s wrong. He’s just cold and he doesn't want you to be his sponsor anymore. “Go inside, soon. Come home.”

“I will.”

Mikey always had that way of making you think everything was going to be okay, even when it wasn’t. “Okay.”

“I want you to start treating our joint like an advanced payment, by the way. A million things are always fucking breaking at The Beef, there’s no point in wiring all the time.”

Mikey wants this to be clean and square, too. Because he couldn’t figure out the wiring by himself— He needs to make sure his baby brother is taken care of, he needs to make sure his restaurant is taken care of, he needs to make sure that you have something to do because Michael fucking saw you.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” You nod to no one. “I think your toilets fucked, speaking of.” You laugh, everything’s okay. There’s a long silence, and you think he’s hung up.

“Good. Okay— You should— You should come fix it, sometime soon… Love you, Chip.”

“Love you, Bear.”

You will tell your therapist that after that phone call, you went back inside, cleaned yourself up, unpacked unused toiletries, changed out of your borrowed brother’s sweats into your nice pajamas, because Mikey said he would come home. He said he would come home and you believed him because he never lied to you before. You set up the things he left for you in your handmade clay dish tray; so he can take them back. Just because you’re not his sponsor, doesn’t mean he shouldn’t keep his chips.

You will tell your therapist that you fell asleep on the couch, waiting for Michael. You will tell her you woke up to a phone call from Richie, and all he said, wavering, was, “You should come over.” Richie doesn’t ask things. Richie will always say, come over. You don’t know why that’s the signal you get, since you seemingly must have missed so many other obvious signs, but you know then that your— Your— Your best— Fuck, the knots are fucking debilitating, fuck fuck fuck.

You will not come over. You will walk, in the cold, to your dad’s place. You will not bring anything with you. You will stay there and rot for two weeks, as will everything in your apartment. He will force you to go to this several hour long therapy appointment because he can’t keep watching you do this, and you will resent the woman you are telling all this.

You will continue to see her, for five more sessions, because the first six are covered under your insurance. She will help in a lot of ways, she will hurt in others.

Wells-Fargo will ask if you want to close your account. You don’t want to, but it’ll accrue monthly banking fees, so you take the money out and close it. You buy a shitty maroon 2004 Dodge Intrepid off Facebook Marketplace with the two and a half grand. It barely functions as a car. But it will drive. The next time someone needs you. You can drive. Next time you’ll think of everything, next time you won’t fail.

You stop paying the phone bill, for your business line. It goes defunct. You just don’t think you should be trusted to be helpful, for the next little while. You will blame your father for this, when people ask about it.

On the day of his funeral, you will go. You will go, and you will sit on the curb across from the church, and you will not go inside. It's just not possible. You will buy a pork chop-cheese sandwich from a bodega nearby and you will eat it on that curb and it’s only then, after shoving it down for so long, that you will scream and cry.

You will leave before anyone sees you, and you will go to State Street Bridge, and you will set up a small vigil. You will finnick with the candles and the flowers until you feel they are perfect. They will never get perfect. You just don’t want to leave. You have a tendency to do that.

You will stare at the little stuffed bear, the roses, the picture frame of him, and you will finally say it aloud.

“My best friend, Mikey, died.”

When Carmen shows up, two hours later, not honestly that long after you finally left, he will add a bouquet and a prayer candle. He will readjust all of your work, to his preference, and then readjust it again and again and again— and he will finally say it aloud.

“My brother, Mikey, shot himself.”

No matter how you say it, it won’t roll off the tongue.

And about thirty-nine weeks from that day, you will be in New York, at a wedding, talking with the virgin Michelin star ranked brother, as you promised.

You will have abandoned your bar after making confessions under the counter, and have instead co-opted the single stall gender-neutral bathroom to have ample time and space to tell each other everything you’ve told your therapists. Even now, neither of you can get the words to roll off the tongue.

But Carmen manages to make “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry— I will never be able to surmise, how sorry—” roll off well enough. Alas, he’s interrupted, by a knock on the gender-neutral bathroom door, made by the only fuckers that knows you two are in here.

“Guys I— Guys I don’t know how to run bar, and I don’t think I should’ve been trusted, with this.”

Carmen will not look away from your bleary-eyed face, he will not break his focus even when you laugh at the sudden tension break. He will just tell the Faks to fuck off and figure it out.

“I’m gonna fix it.” Carmen will tell you, and you will nod and say, “I will too.”

Because it’s not just on one of you, anymore. It can be both. The shared burden. The shared grief. No more fucking shoes, because it's all out now.

It’s not negotiable.

I love when tumblr drafts fully start to lag and my macbook lights on fire because the post is too fucking long. I have so much to say about this chapter but I think I will just make a separate post entirely about this. Because I’m. I’m really proud tbh not to toot my own horn but I think I kind of maybe a little bit ate with this one.

Fun fact, that you may or may not believe: The Carmen scenes? Not planned. Fully did not plan to do any of that. This was going to be entirely Mikey flashbacks, originally— There might’ve ended up being more honestly, if I didn’t add Carmen, but after Something to Do when I started writing I was like,,, these cats aren’t cooking, Carmen’s side is missing a second beat before the third. And so, here it is.

I know everyone was expecting a depression week for Carmen— And to be fair, I also kind of was. But I then thought, nah. They’d done too much work, and I don’t think Rich/Syd would allow him to wallow. Like get your shit together, not for you, for her. Ugh.

Speaking of Rich and Syd— FUCK man my heart. The way their scenes from the past and present meshed together in such a deeply painful way I’m sooo SICK WITH IT!!! WHAT DID YOU THINK?!?!! Just fuckin— The way Tony was too scared to reach out to Syd but it’s SO FUCKING OBVIOUS that Syd was on the other side of Chicago thinking the exact same shit i’m SO SICK!!!!! I’M HACKING UP A LUNG HERE!!

Anyways it’s my birthday send me well wishes and an essay on what you thought I’d love to hear it. I know this was a tough one. Thank you for getting through it with me lmao. Tag list! Hope I didn’t forget anyone, pwease note i ownwee add pweople who swend theiw twoughts— It also may or may not hurt my feelings when people don’t read this text at the bottom. It might. It might a lot.

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @sharkluver @fridavacado @hoetel-manager @mrs-perfectly-fine

Next Part

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto #mikey berzatto #michael berzatto #carmen x oc #carmy x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx

430 notes · View notes

landograndprix · 1 year ago

Text

「Feel the magic ๛ l.n」

part vii

✧.* you've finally secured your well deserved p1 after months of suffering with red bull and while you celebrate it the right way, love is in the air and everybody sees it now.

✧.* when i think about my muppets i think about this song, should i make like a playlist of songs that remind me of this fic, give y'all the vibes ive been having? 👀 spelling mistakes add character, don't mind them 🥰 this is a psa for the people who wanted to be on my taglist but never got tagged, i didn't forget or ignore you, I simply am unable to tag you and therefore removed you from the list feel free to ask me again so I can take a look at it. Taglist is open Love ya ❤️

✧.* prev part - next part

➽────────────────────────❥

y/nusername

liked by landonorris, milouberger and 453,789 others

y/nusername I'd like to thank my parents— p1 baby!🏆

tagged: mclaren

view all 742 comments

y/nloveee yes baaaaabbyyyyy 🤩🤩

norrizz one big fat fuck you to red bull!

adam_norris_pure_electric amazing race, amazing driver!🥇

carlandooo oh my gosh, I'm dead, Adam out here supporting his future daughter in law 😭

norry4 stop it 😭

ricky78 bring it home y/n!

natewhite this girls good, she should try racing in f1..

carlossainz55 well deserved! 🔥

chilisainz wish I had a supportive ex boyfriend 💀

y/nlandooo we're so back with our 1-2!

yourmomsuser super proud of you! 🥰

milouberger back where you belong!

hamilt44n girl, shut up..as if you didn't try to push her off the track halfway..🤨

redbullgirl come back please, perez is a joke 😢

landonorris that's my girlfriend 😍

bott_ass we were aware 😂

landonorris you got any plans tonight? wanna celebrate?

landosmclaren HOWLING ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED

maxfewtrell mega race 🙌

➽────────────────────────❥

landonorris posted on their story

➽────────────────────────❥

cecilemoulin posted to their story

➽────────────────────────❥

y/nusername

liked by landonorris, riabish and 689,872 others

y/nusername ending an amazing weekend with my favorite lil' guy 🧡

tagged: landonorris

view all 878 comments

norrizz honestly such a power couple!!

sharl16 oh they in love love huh?

bott_ass not the after sex selfie 😭

bananaclerc I was looking for this comment 😭

y/nlando y/n's finally showing more of her and lando on here 🥺

mrsnorris 🤮 get someone your own age 🤮

cecilemoulin I just know y'all were late because you've been watching tiktok's in bed all morning..

y/nusername Cecile thirst trap edits go hard

carlandooo y'all think y/n finally realised she likes this man? Seemed pretty one sided to me for a hot minute 😂

ceciley/n I think Cecile said in an interview that THEY aren't used to dating younger dudes and that she felt out of place for the first few weeks..pretty sure she meant herself and y/n 😉

carlandooo CECILE IS DATING SOMEONE?

ceciley/n yeah..max fewtrell? Girl where have you been? 😂

carlandooo under a fucking rock apparently! Wow, these girls really said young, cute and british? Yes ma'am 🥰 so real of them

ceciley/n a couple of besties dating another couple of besties 😂

hamilt44n where are Carlos and Pierre now? You think they gave up? :')

landonorris favourite lil' muppet 🧡

➽────────────────────────❥

Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @softboystarkey @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @glow-ish

Feel the magic taglist: @celesteblack08 @mrsmaybank13 @cha-hot @judesgfirl @roseseraj @kissesandmartinis @jpg3 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @marialovesf1 @silkenthusiasts @luvrrish @laneyspaulding19 @emily-b @formula1bby @judespoisons @buckybarnessweetheart @strawberrychita @iifloweringnightsii @buendiabebeta @jjsprobablywrong @babyvinnie @mishaandthebrits @hockeyboysarehot

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x oc #lando norris fanfic #lando norris image #lando norris smau #lando norris au #lando norris #lando x reader

1K notes · View notes

mujeans · 1 month ago

Text

MY ONLY LOVE, MY ONLY ONE ✦ LCY

SYNOPSIS ✦ you and anton’s relationship through the years - because maybe not all love has to be young.

“if we’re both still single by the time we’re thirty , let’s get married.”

TAGS ✦ anton x f!reader, one-shot, angst, fluff, non-idol au, yn has mommy issues, slice of life, bffs to lovers, slow-burn

WARNINGS ✦ mentions of drinking at a bar, reader isn't really referred to as y/n or _, just "you" 😭

WC ✦ 4k

PLAYLIST ✦ only by leehi, still into you by paramore, every summertime by niki, toothbrush by dnce, bad by wavetoearth

AUTHOR'S CORNER ✦ was originally meant for heeseung, but i changed it lolz also ik i said i'd post it in a few days but i finished it early and wanted to put it out so i hope u enjoy!

snobby, proud, self-centered - these were the words that described anton's first impression of you.

he'd just moved to town, tagging along with his parents to the local mall when his mother stopped in her tracks, causing him to nearly walk into her. he looked at her confusedly when she suddenly gasped, and squealed someone's name, before she practically ran up to another woman, who he'd soon find out to be your own mother.

"guys, this is my old friend from college," she'd told him and his dad. "and this is her daughter," she said as she gestured to you.

you'd been few inches taller than him, so he was intimidated by you and immediately got the impression you were looking down on him. (well, you were, literally.)

"why don't you two kids go to the arcade? here, my daughter has a game card," your mother spoke as she ushered you two away whilst the adults went somewhere else to catch up. anton and you awkwardly stood next to each other as the parents left you two alone.

once they were out of sight, you seemed to deflate; the intimidating aura wiped and replaced by a more relaxed and amicable ‘you’. somehow, you felt more human, and he let out his own steady breath when you smiled and held out your hand for him to shake.

“sorry, my mother can be a lot to handle. you play DDR?”

turns out, you were way more fun when your mother wasn’t around.

holding hands was something you two did often.

your friends would often tease you two about it, but neither you nor anton thought much of it. it was completely platonic, right?

but nonetheless, you two were relentlessly asked if you were dating, even when one or the other was in a relationship with someone else. in fact, your closeness had led to your first and most recent boyfriend breaking up with you.

"can you believe it? everyone knows we're literally just friends," you ranted to anton later that night. "so what if we're close? he himself had his own girl best friend - several in fact!"

anton hummed to let you know he was listening, busy working on an assignment that he'd spent far too long procrastinating.

"i mean, how insecure can he be? is it really that unbelievable for a boy and a girl to have a completely platonic relationship?" you paced around his room, not caring whether or not he was listening. you just needed to get the day's frustrations out - and where better than anton's comfy and personalised room?

something about the hanging leaves, band posters, the warm lamp in the corner lighting up the room, it was your favourite place to hide when your mother would be in another one of her moods.

"i'm never going to date again. ugh."

"you sure about that?" anton half-heartedly asked.

"yes. if i have to sacrifice our friendship to kiss some guy, then no thanks."

anton turned to you with a smile playing at his lips. he didn't take you seriously at all.

"anton..." you whined. this wasn't funny to you.

"sorry, sorry," he said, but you could still hear the laugh in his voice. instead, he took your hands in his apologetically, the warmth a familiar gesture.

"if you never date again, then i won't either."

"anton, you've never dated."

"well, it's like you said. if i have to sacrifice our friendship to kiss some girl, then it's a no for me too."

he stared at you sincerely. you guys knew you both would probably still go on to date other people, but the promise felt real anyway. what with the way he was staring up at you.

"swearing yourself to celibacy for me? how sweet," you relented, sitting down on his bed, your hands still clasped in his.

suddenly, an idea popped into your head.

using your linked hands to pull him closer, his chair rolled over, knocking against your knees.

"anton, let's make a pact: if we're still both single by the time we're thirty, then let's get married."

graduation came faster than anton expected, and he only realises then that he's known you for five years now.

as expected, you and him had taken lots of photos together (wait, when did he get taller than you?), and eventually your families decided to dine together at some fancy restaurant after the ceremony. it a celebration of the two of you leaving high school, and moving onto the next chapter of your lives: university. something you were particularly stressed about.

"why is applying for uni so hard?? i'm just a girl - just accept me!"

anton could empathise with that sentiment - he'd been an exceptional student, yet his lack of curriculars had ended him up on three waitlists, and with one rejection. not to mention how complicated the process was, what with all the different requirements for every university. honestly, he felt like he'd been lied to by all those people telling him not to worry.

looking over at the parents busy in conversation, he noticed that the both of you had finished your meals already.

"can we go? i'm gonna take her out for a drive," he asked them, gesturing to you.

surprised by the sudden plan, you looked to your parents for approval.

"aren't you going to stay for desserts?" your dad asked.

"i'm sure we'll find something sweet on the way," anton replied simply.

"well, i'm okay with it," your dad agreed, looking at anton's parents who nodded back.

you watched him turn to your mother, a silent argument spoken through their eyes. she reluctantly sighs, a sign of surrender, and you cheered on the inside as anton pulled you away and out of the restaurant.

going for drives was something you and anton always did when either was stressed or upset. windows down and music blared as the sky turned an array of colours, it really felt like the movies in moments like this. you sighed contentedly, head propped up on your elbow as you stared outside. the wind combined with ONLY by LeeHi being the only sounds between you and anton.

"ah, i'm not sure if i can do this whole university thing," you confessed your thoughts. "if applying is already this hard, i can't imagine the real thing."

"it won't be this bad. c'mon, we'll be together, right?" anton's voice replied.

"always."

silence engulfed the two of you again.

"i want to do something crazy. something that'll make her mad."

"yeah? any ideas for this crazy plan of yours?"

"hmm... what about..." you trailed off, thinking for a while.

"what about a month-long trip around europe?"

anton's head snapped to you, eyebrows reaching his hairline.

"seriously? she'll actually lose it."

"not that she already hasn't already done so several times before," you grumbled into your elbow. "besides, i'm always sticking to her stupid rules. i just want to do something 'rebellious' before we get thrown back into classes and assignments and homeworks and blah blah blah..."

a pause. then, “let's do it. where do you want to start?"

"really? you'll do it with me?" you perk up, finally looking at him.

"duh," he rolls his eyes, as if you ever leaving him alone was such an unimaginable thought. "let's figure out those visas first though," he added as an afterthought.

2 Notifications yn : you free later this week? yn : feels like i haven't seen u in forever

anton sees the notifications later that night, and sighs as he pushes his hair out of his eyes. he takes a quick look at his monthly calendar.

to be truthful, the two of you had been swamped with finals and work this past semester, so you hadn’t been able to hang out as often as you used to.

seeing that the next part of his coursework wasn't due until next saturday, he decided he had just enough time.

anton: what about tmrw? 12pm at café bleu

"i was thinking..." you started. "what if we do another month-long trip this summer? like we did last year.”

anton grunted at the thought.

"honestly, i've stayed up countless nights this sem for this stupid assignment. i wanted to catch up on sleep thus summer.” i don't think i really have the time for another trip.

"oh. that's okay! we're both going back home anyway, so i'll just come over to yours like always."

"sure, if you want to watch me sleep all day."

but the way he said that - it was a clear no. he didn't have the time, not when he was going to spend all summer trying to catch up on missed sleep.

"never mind, then."

the waitress placed your orders in front of you, and the two of you began to eat in terse silence.

looking at him closely, you notice the darkened eyebags, the pale skin, the way he hadn't even bothered to wear a nice outfit. anton had been pretty cold towards you lately, and he felt guilty, but he couldn't help it. stress was a bully everyone was a victim of.

seeing the way your demeanour seemed to shrink, he was hit with a wave of shame and regret, and took hold of your hand.

"hey, remember that show we watched in senior year? it has a prequel movie coming out soon. we should watch it together."

you perked up immediately. "really? when?"

"november, i think."

he frowned when you faltered, but then you said something that completely sent his heart to the ground.

"i can’t. anton, i'm going on a study exchange programme."

talking to jake was easy. talking to him was nice.

in the three months since jake arrived from australia, anton and him had quickly become good friends, (although he would never be able to replace you). so of course he's sad that the exchange programme was coming to an end soon, and jake would have to leave for home.

however, that meant you'd be coming back too, and he was far more excited about that. the past three months had felt empty without you, even if you were a bit absent from his life for some time before the programme started.

so anton finds himself at café bleu in the same spot you'd told him about your plans, but this time with jake on the other side.

"we'll stay in touch though, yeah?" jake assured him. "i'll definitely come visit some time, this place is really great."

"i'll be looking forward to it."

"i think you're more looking forward to me leaving though, aye? what with your friend coming back too."

at the mention of you, anton couldn't stop the smile from spreading on his face. he really did miss you.

"yeah, she's my rock. always there for me - well, except for these past three months. hopefully you'll get to meet her when you visit."

"i'd love to meet the girl you've been talking about this whole time!"

"you'd get along well," anton nodded, imagining the three of you sharing a slice of cake at this very café. "hey, why don't i call her right now, and you can meet her? although it's just online."

jake nodded eagerly, "why not?"

pulling up his phone, anton quickly swiped to the favourites tab on his contacts app, and called you. after just two rings, you pick up.

"hey! what's up?" your voice greets him, bringing an instant smile to his face.

"nothing much, just wanted to introduce you to jake - he's the student who came in your place as part of the exchange programme," he introduced the guy, turning on his camera.

"oh, hi!" he hears you say after he turns the screen to face the other.

"hi! nice to finally meet you. hope australia treated you well,” jake starts smoothly.

"trust me, it has. everyone so nice and welcoming, i just love it here."

"sounds like you've settled in nicely, i'm almost sorry you'll have to pack up and leave again. but hey, you'll be back home and reunited with this guy, right?" jake laughed.

"well... about that."

anton knew something was up - your voice had that same tone as when you dropped the bomb that was you leaving for the next three months. just before you said your next line, anton felt his heart sink again like it did the first time.

"i've decided to transfer here.

"anton, i'm staying in australia."

once again, anton finds himself in a graduation gown. but for the first time, you're not at his side.

looking at the photos his mother took of him on her phone, he couldn't help but feel a little upset by the lack of you next to him. for the past nine years, he's never had much solo photos; you were always with him, sharing these moments.

but this time 'round, he's completely alone, and your friendship has devolved to instagram mutuals, reduced to liking each other's posts and reacting to stories. the thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

surprisingly, your mother still came to watch him graduate, even if he was only ever just her friend's son.

"oh, anton. you've grown so much since i first met you."

"thank you, auntie," he says awkwardly.

"you know, i miss the two of you. my daughter's all the way in another country, so i barely see you anymore..." she trails off in thought. in the past few years since you left, she seemed to soften up in your absence, no doubt missing you despite the strained relationship between the two of you when you left.

"oh! have you seen the photos? she just graduated herself last week," she fished for her phone in her bag, and began to swipe through her camera roll to show him.

"i wish i could've been there, but i'm not sure she would've wanted that. she's lucky her dad attended instead."

anton shakes his head. "not true, i'm sure she would've wanted you there."

but he wasn’t sure. have your feelings about your mother changed? or were you still upset with her? he doesn’t know. he hasn’t known much about you in a long time.

"i guess we'll never know, will we?"

swiping through more photos, anton's eye caught onto a few of them, where you were standing particularly close to another guy.

"auntie, who's this?"

"ah, him? why, that's her boyfriend, of course." she then turned to look at him oddly. "hasn't she told you?"

he frowned, and shook his head. he's a little off put by the fact that you didn't bother telling him, but then again. you two haven't exactly been friends in a very long time.

and just like that, memories of a pact resurface in his head. it was never going to come true, wasn't it? but if you ended up marrying this guy, anton could never bring himself to watch.

the sound of his friends' voices brought him back to reality. "hey, anton! come over here-" and he forced himself to shake off the thoughts, joining the group instead.

anton had been learning to live life without you for the past four or five years now. he had a new friend group, a nice job in the city, his own apartment, all without his best friend. it was hard to unlearn all the mannerisms he didn't even realise he had for you, not until he would get home from the grocery and realise he bought two boxes of sushi like you used to share, or when he'd almost bought a second, folding mattress for when you'd come over for a sleepover, or even just holding an extra hair tie or two on his wrist in case you needed one.

and that was all in the past now, he's finally began to move on from mourning the loss of your friendship. he only thinks about you once in a blue moon, and his life feels like it's no longer on pause.

but you were always cruel to him.

"wait, what?"

right when he'd begun to move on, you came back.

anton stared at you in shock; when he heard the doorbell ring that day, he'd never have expected you to be on the other side. an intelligent 'wait, what?' was all he could muster when he finally registered just what, or who he was seeing.

"hi," you say in that familiar voice of yours. and you almost sound out of breath, although its clear you hadn't run there.

he finally lets you in after a moment, and you explain how you're moving back, and starting at a local company. you tell him about life back in australia, the friends and experiences you made. you tell him about the past five years of your life as if it was just any normal day after high school.

as if you hadn't just completely left him on his own, his other half gone with you.

although the conversation is stilted and awkward, and theres a gap between you that feels wider than the distance between australia and home, anton's still glad to see you. it almost feels unreal, and he wouldn't believe any of this was real if he couldn't feel your weight pushing down on the sofa, or the very essence of you in his living room.

you and anton agree to get coffee some time after you've settled back in, and he asks if you need any help.

"yes, please! its like i brought my whole life from australia back with me, what with all the boxes i need to unpack."

and so, leaning against the door frame, anton watches you walk away again, catching himself wondering if it would be the last time he'd see you again in a while. he had to keep reminding himself that you were back for good.

"oh, and me and my boyfriend broke up."

anton sucks in a breath, and slips his hands in his pocket to hide the shaking. he wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel - angry? relieved? sorry? anton hasn't known how to feel in years.

"just wanted you to know," you spoke into the air, after you received no response from him.

so with an awkward wave, you leave him once again, with a promise to see each other soon.

"happy birthday!" people greet as they enter the bar, giving anton a quick hug.

"thank you," he smiles back. "wow, twenty-seven. i feel so old."

"twenty-seven isn't that old," you tell him, hugging him from behind as a surprise. he chuckles and holds onto your arms clasped around his middle for a bit before letting you go sit across him.

"think about it, we've been friends for longer than we haven't!"

"including those four or five years we barely spoke?" you raised an eyebrow at him, taking a sip from your glass.

"shh, what years? we've always been as thick as thieves," anton grins, pinching your cheek.

after you moved back, it didn't take that long to rekindle your previous relationship. somehow, you two picked up right where you left off, like there was never a period in your friendship filled with almost radio silence.

"you two," eunseok sighed with an exasperated but fond tone. "if i didn't know you guys were 'just friends', i would've thought you were dating."

"or married!" sohee shouts from somewhere.

you roll your eyes at your friends and coworkers, the guests. dating allegation were nothing new in your relationship, having suffered from them for over ten years now.

"we have been friends for a while now, huh? fourteen years is pretty crazy."

"i honestly can't remember a time when i didn't know you," anton agrees.

"being 'friends' for longer than you haven't is quite the achievement," wonbin remarks with a knowing look. "personally, i don't have toothbrushes and extra clothes at my house for my friends though."

all this talk of friends and friendship was making your head hurt.

"anton, remember the pact we made at sixteen?"

anton looked at you sharply, knowing exactly what you were referring to, but asking anyway. "no. remind me again?"

with a scoff and a smile, you said, without regard to the fact that everyone was half-listening, "when we promised we'd marry each other by thirty if we were both still single?"

clinks of glass and utensils falling around the two of you, your friends were suddenly more invested in the conversation, not even trying to hide their curiosity.

"you really want to talk about this right now? in front of everyone?" anton murmured, voice low enough just for you to hear.

you stared at him, and then continued.

"well, looks like there's three years left to our promise. three years left to run away from me." that pulled out some laughs.

anton just stared at you with a mix of surprise and uncertainty.

"well, i haven't run away for these last eleven years since, have i?"

whoops and cheers filled the bar; you yourself were surprised with anton's boldness and honesty. you always did wonder why he barely ever dated, only ever having a few flings here and there.

suddenly, you felt a little flustered by his bold declaration, and the implication that he'll wait out the remaining years.

"i..."

suddenly, anton's face morphed into a smirk as he took another sip from his own glass, eyes still on you.

"what's another three years?"

"ah, my mom keeps asking when i'm going to settle down," you whine to anton, sitting in his living room as you two share a late midnight snack.

something about it all feels nostalgic, whining and complaining about your mom to him, sitting in his comfy room (or this time, his apartment), with a vinyl record playing in the background. this is home, you decided.

what you don't tell him is that your mom had been more specific with her words.

(when are you and anton going to get married and settle down?? i want grandkids, you know!)

anton laughs lightly, feeding you another sushi. the whole atmosphere was quite domestic, and you wished you could spend the rest of your life like this; with him.

"some things never change, do they?" he remarks with a fond smile. and your heart melts a little.

(hopefully soon, mama.)

"isn't sushi a little heavy for a midnight snack?"

"well, it's not just any midnight, isn't it?" anton asks.

and he's right. it's actually a special one - the night before your birthday.

looking at the clock, you see that it's almost twelve, and you find yourself thinking back on the past twenty-nine years. anton's in most of the memories, something you weren't particularly bothered about. when you two spent that day at the arcade together, something about it all just felt right.

you've always loved change, always wanted more experiences. but one thing you wanted to stay the same forever, was anton being by your side. when you'd gone to australia, it was a slow realisation that some part of you was missing. only when you reunited with anton did you realise why that was.

the soft beeping noise of a clock brought you back from your thoughts, signalling that it was finally twelve o'clock. that you were finally thirty. hearing shuffling behind you, you turn to look at anton for the annual hug and cheer that made your whole birthday.

but instead, you watched in shock as anton sunk onto one knee, and pulled out a box.

"don't look so surprised, now," he chuckles awkwardly. "this was a long time coming."

"i know... i just. i didn't expect you'd do it as soon as i turned thirty," you laughed. "looks like someone couldn't wait any longer."

"can you blame a man who waited fourteen years?"

you shook your head before anton called our your name, even though he already had your full attention.

"my only love, i don't have to hide my feelings anymore. i love you."

with a deep breath, filled with years and years of longing, he finally asked.

"will you marry me?"

TAGLIST ✦ @yoursyuno @totheseok

#MUJEANS ✦ FICS #riize #anton riize #anton x reader #lee chanyoung #chanyoung x reader #anton fluff #anton scenarios #anton imagines #riize fics #anton fics #riize x reader #lee chanyoung x reader #riize anton x reader #anton one shot

220 notes · View notes

bvidzsoo · 3 months ago

Text

Love Me Like A Rockstar (14)

ー☆ Chapter 14: Follow You

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: none ー☆ Word count: 7.8k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hello, my lovelies! And the last actual chapter is here (as I still have an epilogue ready for you all), I can't believe we're wrapping up LMLAR and that I have to let go of the characters I have created for this story. I can't lie, I might have become really attached to Mingi in this story because I accidentally portrayed in him my ideal type, but what's new? I somehow always manage to hurt myself when I write with Mingi lol (ig that's the burden I have to carry if I write a story with my bias lol) I will be going on a holiday for possibly two weeks, so that means I won't be able to write nor update for two weeks (which sounds horrible and I'm already dying over it, but I hope I'll manage to find time to still write even if a little). Now, don't worry too much about the epilogue and I ask you to read the note at the end of this chapter attentively! ;) For once, I am asking you all to listen to Follow You after you've finished the chapter and not before or during it! I'm curious if the lyrics will be familiar hehe. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and let me know through feedback <3 divider

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red

@sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng

@deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf

@hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380 @xciiiomwliah @vixensss

@catchingskzzzs @tesssaurrr @ginger-mingi @mingisbbg

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

Being here with him, doing this with him had no business being so nerve-wracking. This was Mingi, the guy I hated at first—did I?—and then found a friend in and—well, now found something more in him—wanted more from him. But the flutter of my heart and my stomach twisting despite still feeling somewhat calm, reminded me that no matter that I was with Mingi, this was a completely new setting for us. Yes, it was just the two of us going out and about, but at the same time, it was a date. Something we both discussed and agreed upon, leaving our houses with the purpose of going on this date, the two of us. And perhaps it wasn’t even me feeling nervous about going on a date with Mingi per se, but more the fact that I hadn’t done something like this in ages, which made me feel giddy about it. Like a child when they get the present they really wanted on Christmas Eve.

Mingi, like the true gentleman he was, had picked me up once we were both done with our classes for the day, the sun only half an hour away from setting. The sky had been coated in orange and pink hues as Mingi drove us to an unknown location, grinning from ear to ear as he talked about his day to fill the silence since his old Honda’s stereo had stopped working a few days ago. I didn’t mind that, not at all, if that meant I got to listen to his deep voice and excited tone as he told me about his professor asking about Outlaw and whether he was allowed to attend one of Noir Zenith’s performances. It seemed like word had gotten out lately about Mingi’s band, and even more people from our university were interested in watching them play, I feared soon Outlaw wouldn’t be enough to house the fans. The thought made me feel—made me feel proud and happy for him. Mingi deserved this, he was hard-working and diligent, and I wished him nothing but the best.

When I realized that Mingi was driving us to a rather high-end part of the city with tall and fancy buildings, I found myself more nervous about the surprise he had in mind for me. I didn’t exactly want to dine out in a super expensive restaurant—it really wasn’t my thing—but if this is what Mingi prepared for us, I wouldn’t mind. I knew I’d enjoy myself as long as he was by my side. But, thankfully, he veered us away from the main street and drove down a few narrower ones, buildings nestled together and looking cozier than ever. Graffiti and murals covered every second bricked wall, and I watched curiously as Mingi pulled over and parked the car at the side of the road, in front of a black building, smaller than the ones in the area but a lot more modern and fancier looking. It was dark inside and looked unlived in, but I didn’t question him when he just grinned and grabbed a blanket and basket out of the backseat, then grabbed my hand and guided me towards its front door.

He had fumbled with the key for a second and I snickered at him as he flushed, but then we were inside and I watched in awe the high windows, the place vacant of anything. It was dark, now with the sun setting as well, and I noticed that quite a few lightbulbs were still missing, but Mingi grabbed my hand and walked us towards the end of the hallway.

“Are you sure we’re supposed to be here?” I asked quietly, as if afraid someone would hear us. The place was unfurnished still and Mingi hummed as I noticed light coming from a room whose archway was covered by a black blanket so that you couldn’t see inside. I had paused and looked at Mingi questioningly as he chewed on his bottom lip, then released my hand and yanked the blanket down. My eyes widened at the scenery inside, completely taken aback by the fairy lights strung above and the fort which was built by three stands and a blanket dangled over them. Besides the fairy lights, there was a projector and the white wall was covered in the image of a forest, with a creek slowly flowing through, and the distant sound of birds chirping echoed around the room, it was quiet so as not to disturb any conversation.

My jaw was completely on the floor as I felt my heart race even faster, completely in awe at the view in front of me. I couldn’t believe someone would do something so sweet for me, and as I turned to look at Mingi, for the first time, he looked nervous. He smiled tentatively and I noticed his trembling fingers as he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his tall nose, and then without thinking, I threw myself in his arms, hugging his torso tightly as I gnawed on my bottom lip, embarrassed by the sudden tears in my eyes as I buried my head in his chest. Mingi made a surprised noise in the back of his throat but didn’t hesitate to return the embrace, and I had to gulp multiple times to try and get rid of the lump in my throat. Nobody has ever done something this nice for me. It was thoughtful, there was effort put into it, and I knew Mingi did this all by himself.

“So, based on your reaction, I assume you like this?” He didn’t sound smug or playful, he sounded genuinely curious, and for a second, I couldn’t believe I was stupid enough to even think of ruining a relationship with someone this precious.

“I love it, Mingi.” I whispered into his chest, the softener of his clothes carrying a flowery scent that mingled with his cologne that I was familiar with by now. It felt safe, it felt warm, and Mingi was comforting to be around.

“Oh, that’s good.” He heaved a sigh and I finally managed to get rid of the tears as I pulled my head back to look up at him, his cheeks were flushed a deep red, a great contrast against his tanned skin and platinum hair, “I was scared you’d hate it, but Wooyoung told me to trust my gut, so I did.”

I smiled and released him, stepping back to offer him space so that he could proceed with his plans. He beckoned me further inside the warm room, towards the fort as he laid the blanket out on a mattress for us, placing the picnic basket next to it, “If the weather would’ve allowed it, I would’ve loved taking you down to the creek for a little picnic under the warm sun, but autumn and winter suck, so I had to get creative.”

“I wasn’t expecting anything less from you.” I chuckled as I had walked towards him, shrugging off my long coat. Mingi followed suit and I took my time to take in his attire, loose black jeans held onto his narrow hips by a thick belt, a beige sweater tucked in slightly at the front, and a black denim jacket with the sleeves rolled up. His wrists were decorated with beaded bracelets, the rings toned down as he only had three on his left and one on his right hand, three necklaces dangling at different lengths around his neck. His nails were bare today, void of the familiar black tint. And, without meaning to, it seemed like we wore matching outfits for our date. I wore black jeans which was loose at the knees paired with a black off-shoulder long-sleeved blouse and a beige sweater with holes over it. I didn’t want to comment on my observations as Mingi settled on the mattress with a grin, patting the spot next to him, “What’s this place though? Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?”

Mingi chuckled as he opened the basket, pulling out the thermos I had brought the hot chocolate in for him days ago, and then he grabbed two mugs, “I pulled some strings for us to be here, but we’re not trespassing, so don’t worry.”

“Who owns this building?” I asked curiously as I watched Mingi pour hot chocolate into the mugs.

“Well, last I heard Hongjoong bought it, so…” My eyes widened as I had taken the mug from Mingi, curious to know more, “This building will be Seonghwa’s art studio. He wishes to launch a brand soon, and Hongjoong thought it would be best if Seonghwa has his own office, or studio as Hwa likes to call it. I think he wants to turn the front lobby into a smaller art gallery of sorts, you should talk to him and see whether he’s interested in displaying your paintings and drawings.”

I hummed, thrilled at the idea of having my own exposition one day, “I don’t think I have enough creations for him to display just yet, but I will keep it in mind.”

It’s my dream to be a well-known painter all around the world, to have to travel to display my art in various galleries, to have people interpret my works to their liking and imagination, and to be able to spread a message through my work. I love creating and I love sharing my deepest thoughts through whatever I put on a canvas, or in my sketchbook and, perhaps, I love it even more when someone else appreciates it and interprets it through their own lens, through their own experiences.

Being here with Mingi felt warm, it made me forget about every concern I had prior, completely disregarding my nervous state as I now found myself comfortable sitting beside him and sipping on our hot chocolate, snacking from time to time on popcorn and whatever salty snack Mingi had prepared for us. The scenery through the projector never changed, and I found the chirping of the birds and the flow of the water as white noise rather relaxing. If I closed my eyes, I could easily picture myself with Mingi by the creek, the two of us sitting on a blanket in the green grass, the warm sun beaming down on us as we laughed and talked about whatever came to mind. It seemed like time passed by like a slug when in reality, it was flying away way too fast, but neither one of us cared. Wooyoung and Seulgi knew we were on a date—and since this building was Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s, they probably knew we were here too—and I had told my mother earlier today that I was going out with Mingi. There was no point hiding anything from her anymore, and she was beyond excited to hear the news. She had a night shift today, but she promised to pester me at breakfast about every single detail tomorrow, swearing she wouldn’t go to sleep until we had the chance to talk. And when she put her mind to something, I knew she would follow through with it.

Mingi and I had been talking non-stop since the whole fiasco in his studio—through texts, phone calls, or in person—and I found myself craving to be around him more and more. Surprising even myself, I bought pastries just the other day before going to my first class, and knowing Mingi would be in his studio, I surprised him with his favorite pastry before I was off to class, not wanting to bother him anymore. It also didn’t come as much of a surprise when he and Wooyoung sat with me and Seulgi at lunch, Mingi huddled up close to me as he wouldn’t stop nagging me about eating more, giving me half of his portion despite me not being able to stomach it. In the end, he finished both of our lunches, and I couldn’t have been happier. Seulgi and Wooyoung didn’t comment much on our antics, but I knew Seulgi was dying to tease me. I knew I was in for it later in our art class, and I wasn’t wrong.

The tension I felt around Mingi—due to not being completely honest with him—had now completely disappeared and was, instead, replaced with a tingling feeling that made me giggle and flush any time I allowed my thoughts to stray towards him. Towards his tall build, his firm muscles, his deep and raspy voice that covered my skin in chills any time I listened to it, and his sharp eyes that could make anyone weak in the knees unless they were creased due to his wide smile. His long nose and crooked teeth and that wide smile that had my stomach doing weird flips, his throaty giggles and rarely flushed cheeks. His hands, which were always warm in contrast to his chunky silver rings, which, surprisingly, have become comforting whenever they dug into my skin, his thick fingers intertwined with mine. His cologne and scent, which had me craving more of him, his clothes tucked away securely in my closet—and if perhaps one of my hoodies’ started smelling like Mingi, nobody had to know that I would snuggle up in it before falling asleep. His arms, which always brought a wave of comfort with them and made me feel smaller than anyone has managed to make me feel before. His hands and nails which I would stare at and flush whenever Mingi noticed what I had been doing, and ultimately, his platinum blonde hair, a color that I started loving instead of hating so ardently. It suited him, it made him look unfairly handsome, it sharpened his high cheekbones and his well-defined jaw, gave his eyes more depth and sharpness, and yes, I loved the color, but I also missed his naturally black hair. It made him look softer, more like the Mingi he was on the inside, easily fooling others of his true personality.

A personality that was goofy and giddy, yet a personality that felt everything intensely and spoke boldly, expressing himself directly and never expecting anything besides fair treatment and the truth in return. Mingi was a sensitive soul who offered without asking anything back in return, and he was rewarded rightfully by those around him who appreciated and loved him. He was easily lovable and I found it harder each day that passed by to ignore the need to cherish and protect him. I didn’t think coming clean with my feelings would be such a liberating feeling, that it would make everything so much easier to accept, to mull over. I was scared, of course, I still was, but I felt hopeful. I knew Mingi well enough by now to know he’d never pressure me into anything I didn’t want, that he’d never make me feel uncomfortable, and that he’d always take it slow if that’s what I needed.

When our mindless chatter finally subsided, the two of us now laid on our backs, staring up at the moon Mingi had hung up in the fort—it felt serene. I knew we were nearing late evening by now, but I couldn’t find it in myself to actually care, to actually look at my phone to check the time. I didn’t even want to look at my wristwatch to see—I wished to stay in this moment with Mingi for as long as possible. We had eaten almost all the snacks he brought and the hot chocolate had been long gone now, all we did was enjoy each other’s company right now. With a finger fiddling with the holes in my sweater, I reached the pinkie of my other hand out until I could poke at Mingi’s hand. I didn’t look at him, but I could see from my peripheral that his eyes were closed. He hummed when I poked his pinkie again, and then, finally gave in as he hooked our pinkies together, sending my heart into a frenzy as I tried to remind myself that this wasn’t the first time we’d be holding hands—it did nothing to my poor flushed cheeks nor churning stomach, I was horrible at hiding how he made me feel.

“Can I ask you something?” Mingi’s voice was quiet as if not to disturb our peace. He sounded just a little bit hesitant, and I got a feeling of what our next subject would be about. I hummed and listened as he took a deep breath, then asked his question, “Do you hate Yunho?”

My eyebrows furrowed as I glanced at Mingi, his eyes were still closed, except that now he was gnawing on his lower lip nervously instead of looking at ease. I didn’t have to think much about his question, I don’t think I have ever felt such negative feelings against someone before, “No, I could never hate anyone, to be honest. However, I did resent him for a long time.”

“And now?” I could understand his curiosity and the need to know more about whatever was once between Yunho and me. It didn’t make me feel uncomfortable, I was rather thankful that we could openly discuss it. I know that if it bothered him, Mingi would’ve told me because that’s who he was. We didn’t hold secrets from each other, we spoke directly and honestly.

“I don’t feel anything,” I whispered with a small shrug, finding it weird how impartial I had become to Jeong Yunho. A few months ago I still couldn’t think of him without distaste, let alone talk about him without my stomach dropping and heart clenching. I still didn’t appreciate the way he’s treated me, of course, I didn’t, but I found it easy to let go, to not care anymore at all, “It’s been over five years that we dated, and I’ve been over him for a long time now.”

“But you couldn’t completely let go,” Mingi muttered and I had to gulp, not that surprised that he saw right through me.

“He was my first love, my first in everything so I—” I gulped, wondering whether this was uncomfortable or not for Mingi to discuss, but he intertwined our fingers and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. I took a deep breath and slowly continued, “I was attached to him, people always say you’ll forever remember the first person you truly loved, and I think they are right. It’s a bittersweet memory, to be honest, but not something I feel locked down in anymore. Even the resentment I felt towards him now feels so distant like it happened ages ago and not months ago. It feels good and refreshing to have gotten rid of such consuming thoughts and emotions despite never saying it out loud. I hated myself for latching onto that last fraction of emotion I felt towards Yunho, thinking it would make his life as miserable as he made mine but in reality, I was only holding myself back and hurting myself furthermore.”

I turned my head to watch Mingi, to take in his expression, and I was surprised to see him smiling. He was gently rubbing his thumb over my skin, “Yunho’s parents got divorced around the time you two started dating, and his older brother moved to another country in order to pursue the career he’s always wanted, so Yunho had it hard. Between the two of us, he’s always been the stronger person, the brighter mind with never-ending hope, cheering me on and encouraging me to never back down if I had goals to reach. Even when I knew he was suffering due to his family’s situation, he wouldn’t let me comfort him, wouldn’t let me be his shoulder to cry on. He had a huge ego back then, refusing to show the cracks or admit that he was doing worse than ever, and I think he was abusing every relationship he had back at that time. He needed validation and love, he felt worthless and used after his parents didn’t even warn him of their split up, just showed him the documents and made him choose who he’d want to continue living with.

“His parents were good people but they handled some things in a shitty way, and it showed because Yunho lost himself in alcohol and meaningless relationships for a while. I’m not calling your relationship meaningless, because as much as I can remember, you were the only one who was able to tie him down for a longer period of time back then. It’s not you who wasn’t enough for Yunho, it’s him who wasn’t ready to commit and love others the right way. I warned him often to stop whatever he was doing, but he was addicted to the feeling and even hurt me in the process. I’m in no way invalidating your feelings and whatever you have gone through, I just hope you can forgive Yunho’s foolishness one day. He was just a kid trying to navigate his life as he lost his path for a short amount of time. I can guarantee he’s changed now, he’s better than he’s ever been before and he regrets everything he’s done. If you feel like it, I’m sure he would even reach out to you to apologize.”

Mingi’s eyes slowly fluttered open as he turned his face, and his eyes widened when he realized I had been looking at him the whole time, “I probably would’ve killed for this information back in highschool, it would’ve made things a lot less complicated for me if he was just honest and explained things before he left me. It wasn’t always easy growing up without a father, and despite never caring much about what others said, Yunho made me feel unworthy and undesirable and perhaps it’s that which hurt more and not even the fact that he left me. I knew relationships didn’t always last, but I didn’t expect him to be such a huge asshole.”

Mingi snickered and bit his lower lip as I rolled my eyes, trying to restrain the giggle that threatened to bubble through, “Yunho would be digging his own grave right now if he were to hear us, too embarrassed and ashamed of himself to even apologize.”

“Serves him right.” I couldn’t help but laugh and Mingi did the same, looking content and not bothered by the nature of our conversation. After all, it was him who was curious about it and I had nothing to hide from him anymore, “What about you? Any past girlfriends I have to look out for?”

My tone was teasing and Mingi instantly flushed, turning his head away as if that would’ve hidden it. His glasses were placed between us and he cleared his throat as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Well, I wasn’t a heartthrob like my lovely best friend, so I didn’t date many girls.”

I raised my eyebrows, prompting Mingi to continue speaking as he sighed, “I dated a girl back in highschool for a few months, but I don’t know. She was nagging and I didn’t like the way she berated me whenever things didn’t go her way, so I broke up quickly with her. After that, I just wasn’t in the mood to date anyone. I was content with watching anime and reading my mangas and hanging out with Yunho.”

I grinned and pushed up onto my elbows, wiggling my eyebrows at Mingi when he quickly averted his eyes, “And in university? Come on, don’t be shy now, where’s the cocky and annoying Mingi I despised?”

“You were into it, don’t lie.” Mingi chuckled as I scoffed, but I couldn’t find myself to correct him. Maybe I was into it, but he didn’t have to know, his ego was big enough already. After a longer pause and a squeeze of his hand, he gave in and groaned, “Yeah, fine, I dated casually a few people but wasn’t into any of them much. I feel like nobody has ever seen past my looks or the fact that I have a band and sing, so I didn’t feel like being with someone who only wanted me for my looks and for the far-fetched idea that I’d become famous one day, subsequently making them famous too so that they could parade around saying their boyfriend is a rockstar.”

“It’s not a far-fetched idea, Mingi.” I muttered and he looked up at me again, looking hopeful, “It’s good to know, though, that I won’t have to fight any jealous exes in the near future.”

“It’s rather the exes I’d be worried about,” He snickered, and as I narrowed my eyes, a cheeky smile was back on his lips, “you are the jealous type, not them—”

“Now that’s simply not true.” I huffed and fell back, glaring up at the new moon Mingi had hung up in the fort, “I’m not the jealous type.”

“Are you not?” His voice dripped with tease and I rolled my eyes, “Because I’m pretty sure you don’t like Mina—”

“Who’s Mina?” I interrupted, eyebrows furrowing as I cast a glance his way.

“The blonde girl, my fan.” I gulped, suddenly feeling an unexplainable drop in my stomach and a scowl on my face as I turned my head further away so that Mingi couldn’t see it. Yeah, I simply couldn’t stand her. Mingi started laughing loudly and I huffed as I retracted my hand from his, crossing my arms in front of my chest. It only made him laugh harder, and soon I found myself grinning, his deep laugh infectious.

“I’m not jealous of her, though.” I tried to defend myself but it fell on deaf ears as Mingi continued snickering.

“I don’t mind.”

“Of course you don’t.”

Mingi chuckled at my scoff and then it was silent again as I felt my heart rate settle, Mingi’s breaths stable and loud in the fort. The sounds of nature alongside the projection of the creek would be able to lull me to sleep, but Mingi spoke up again before that could happen, “Remember when we were in the library all those months ago and I flipped through your sketchbook without permission?”

I hummed and gave him a pointed stare, making Mingi smile at me sheepishly, “Well, sorry about that, first of all, and secondly, there was a drawing of eyes which was scribbled over. That’s when you said those were Yunho’s but I’m pretty sure I can recognize my own eyes, doll—”

“Are you claiming again that I was drawing your eyes?” I raised my eyebrows and Mingi pursed his lips as he nodded, “I feel like we’ve had this discussion a million times before, Mings.”

Mingi chuckled and then shrugged, playing with the beads of his bracelet, “Yeah, but hearing you confirm it again would be nice.”

I sighed but gave in nonetheless, I would adhere to his wishes only today, “Yes, Mingi, my sketchbook is full of your eyes, of your face, of your body, of you performing on stage, of you sitting in your car—of you.”

I didn’t expect to see his face, even his ears, turn red in a second, eyes widening as his mouth fell open. For once I felt like I had the upper hand, that it finally wasn’t him making me feel flustered, and I smirked, raising an eyebrow at him teasingly. Mingi cleared his throat and patted at his cheeks, clearing his throat again as he opened his mouth to speak, stuttering a bit before a sound actually came out, “Well, I—uh, I wasn’t expecting such honesty. Thank you? I mean, that’s really cool, thank you. I knew you were obsessed with me since the second you saw me.”

And that’s why I mostly kept to myself about stuff like this, I knew it would get to his head, “No, I couldn’t stand you the second I saw you. Then you turned out not to be such an idiot and too annoying, thankfully.”

Mingi chuckled and intertwined his hands as he placed them behind his head, kicking his legs out, “Well, I actually knew you before meeting you at Outlaw. Wooyoung told me about Seulgi, and then the next day he pointed her out in the hallway and you were there with her. And, uh, yeah.”

It was my turn to tease him as I turned my head and grinned at him, “Did little Mingi have a crush on me before he even got to know me?”

I shouldn’t have felt so pleased by his sudden flush or the way he avoided eye contact, “Yeah, I did.”

And apparently, I was worth sticking around for so long, pushing to get through to me, to make me realize opening up to another person wasn’t such an awful thing, to make me realize liking someone else wasn’t the end of the world, and that I very much wanted to be loved and that I also wanted to love another. The silence that dragged on wasn’t awkward, but I felt Mingi tense the more I didn’t say anything, and as he looked at me with eyes that held light fear in them, I smiled. And then, I was turning onto my side and leaning over to kiss him. As always, his plush lips were soft and warm, welcoming and eager as I pressed a chaste kiss against them, trying not to smile but I failed miserably as Mingi sighed quietly. I pulled back as my intention wasn’t to turn this into anything deeper, but Mingi chased after my lips, our noses bumping together as I cupped his cheek with my hand, my hair falling around us as our lips pressed a little firmer against each other.

It was slow, neither one of us desperate or trying to prove anything as we got lost in the feel of the other, of the other’s warmth and taste—which was a mix of salted caramel popcorn and hot chocolate, Mingi’s cologne making my head dizzy as our lips slotted perfectly together, moving languidly against each other. My hand slipped to hold his jaw and he freed a hand from under his head as he held onto the back of my head, sucking my lip between his teeth without bruising them or nipping at them. I hummed against his lips and pressed another swift kiss against them before pulling away, my face hovering above his as I didn’t want to open my eyes just yet, basking in the feeling kissing Mingi brought with itself. Our noses bumped together again and I smiled as Mingi giggled, no doubt enjoying the proximity.

“So,” His voice was quiet and when I opened my eyes, I was met with an unexpected flush to his cheeks, that subsequently made me blush as well, “what are we now?”

“What should we be?” I asked, my tone warm as I bit my lower lip to contain my smile.

“What do you want us to be?”

“A couple?”

It felt like time stopped as I muttered those words, feeling nervous and scared, but so ready to offer everything I had to Mingi, to make him happy, to make him feel loved and appreciated. I never wanted to see him hurt, especially not because of me. I had seen Mingi’s smile before plenty of times, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the way his eyes disappeared and nose scrunched up, all teeth on display as he smiled up at me, making my heart flutter as I just realized something. I loved him, I loved this man lying underneath me and nothing would stop me from cherishing him like he deserved to be.

“Yeah, I want us to be a couple.” He spoke as he didn’t stop smiling, and I tried to keep mine in check.

“But we have to go on more dates, at least three more, to get to know each other better.” My eyebrows slightly furrowed and Mingi smoothed them out with his fingers tenderly.

“Of course, we’ll take it at your pace, I have nothing to rush for.” I felt grateful as Mingi winked and I pressed a swift kiss before I buried my head in his neck, letting him pull me closer to his body as I cuddled up against his side, “Can I tell Wooyoung at least”

“You think I won’t tell Seulgi?”

And we giggled together as Mingi pressed a kiss against my head, humming in contentment as our fingers intertwined, resting upon his beating heart. I’ve never felt more like I belonged than at this exact moment. Not even with my art.

By the time Mingi drove me home, it was well into the evening, the dark streets illuminated by the lampposts, some having burned down as Mingi turned onto my street. We didn’t feel the need to discuss much on our way back, our date was successful and filled with laughter and deep conversations that only confirmed my suspicions of Mingi. He was a good guy, too good to be true at times, but I was more than grateful that he was by my side.

His old black Honda Prelude came to a slow stop in front of my house and I unbuckled my seatbelt as Mingi turned his head and smiled, placing the car in neutral as he pulled the handbrake up. I turned and looked at him, our smiles almost shy as if we weren’t ready to say goodbye just yet, acting as if we wouldn’t see each other tomorrow. I agreed to let him pick me up for a breakfast date as we both only had classes starting at noon. If my heart fluttered and lungs convulsed at the thought of having Mingi pick me up tomorrow for a breakfast date, I would only admit it to my mother as now I had to explain why I wouldn’t have breakfast with her in the morning. I had a feeling that I wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight, too excited to actually get the amount of sleep that was healthy. Perhaps I would even paint some more, for once, I wasn’t behind on assignments, but I felt the itch under my skin to create something new.

“Well,” I cleared my throat once the silence got too much, “I loved spending my time with you, Mingi, thank you for taking me out.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” He looked away abashed, but only for a second as he gave me a cheeky look, “I bet it’ll be hard to overdo my efforts now.”

“You wish.” I chuckled and grabbed my backpack from between my legs, “Don’t forget, I might be artsier than you are, love.”

It was certainly surprising to see Mingi’s face flush, ears included. If I remember correctly, Yunho’s ears always flushed before his face could if he was flustered, flattered, or embarrassed, and now I couldn’t help but find it endearing that the two best friends had similar mannerisms, “Uh—yeah, I—love?!”

I giggled and bit my lower lip, leaning over the center console with a cheeky grin, “Well, did you expect me not to call you nicknames? You call me doll, it’s only fair I return the favor—”

“But love?!” Mingi exclaimed, slightly confusing me as he rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, “I—I think I’m unwell.”

“What?” My eyebrows furrowed, suddenly concerned, “Why?”

“My stomach won’t stop flipping around and because I’m losing my mind?” Upon Mingi’s helpless expression and whine, my eyes widened and I fell back into my seat, not quite laughing as I couldn’t help but gape at him.

“Do I fluster you—”

“Very much so!” Mingi exclaimed as he hid behind his hands again and I might have malfunctioned for a second as I’d never seen him acting like this. Did he have a fever? Did a simple nickname turn him into a whiney kid?

“Well, it’s payback time for all the times you made me suffer, love.” Mingi looked like he was about to combust and I couldn’t help but cackle as I blew him a kiss before grabbing the handle to open the car’s door. But before I could step out, Mingi shot forward and opened the glove box.

“Wait!” He said hurriedly and I froze, looking at him curiously. He grabbed a black notebook and handed it to me, eyes boring into mine despite his still red ears, “Flip through it once you’re settled down, please.”

I smiled and nodded, feeling curious as I took it from him, and certainly blushed an ugly shade of red when he pressed a quick kiss against my cheek, making me stumble for a second as I got out of his car. It was his time to feel triumphant for making me feel flustered, and I couldn’t help but flip him off as his amused laughter was audible through the closed doors and rolled-up windows. He winked and waved cheekily before putting the car in first gear and motioning for me to head inside. Feeling giddy and curious, I waved before turning my back to walk to the front door as nonchalantly as possible, fishing my keys out of my pocket. Once I was inside, Mingi drove off and I slammed the front door shut, locking it quickly as I had half a mind slipping out of my boots and throwing my jacket onto the floor absentmindedly as I raced up to my room, not bothering to turn on the lights. I might have bumped into the edge of the railing and the edge of my door as I turned on the bedside table lamp, dropping everything on the floor except the notebook as I plopped down onto the bed.

My heart was racing as I got comfortable, almost forgetting my phone was in my back pocket and would be crushed if I sat on it, so I retrieved it and placed it on the bed next to me. My fingers trembled lightly and I licked my lips as I flipped the notebook open, surprised to find Mingi’s name written prettily on the first page with doddles decorating the rest of the blank page, all kinds of little animals and shapes signed by his friend’s names, no doubt them having drawn those in here. Too curious about the contents of the notebook, I started slowly flipping through the pages, eyes skimming over all the words and musical notes, Mingi’s handwriting was pretty despite it being rushed at times—most of the time.

Then, I flipped to a page that had my name only on it with a small heart next to it. My heart was suddenly in my throat as I took a shaky breath, flipping to another page, eyes slowly taking in all the words.

‘And the world is cold/But it's beautiful/I wish you were here now’, I could imagine Mingi’s soft tone singing these in a whisper before the beat picked up. ‘It's your magnetic hold/A gravity pull/I can feel you in waves/When your melody comes/It falls from above/I will not be afraid’, I gulped, eyebrows furrowing as I slowly traced over the words, Mingi’s pen having made an indent in the paper when he scribbled them down. Eager to read more, I looked further down, drinking in what I now realized to be lyrics, ‘So lost/Coming from me when I'm lost/You kiss my neck and then you're gone/Turn me off and turn me on oh/Eat up every word you say/My perception dilates’. I bit my bottom lip, heart racing just a little faster as I realized Mingi offered me a glance inside his mind, inside his feelings and how he’s viewed me and our relationship over the months, ‘Want you to waste my time/Mess with my mind/Fly me to the other side/Don't say goodbye to reds in my eyes/Love me enough to hate me/Waste my time, waste my time/Waste my time, waste my time’.

I gulped, suddenly feeling guilty for having tormented Mingi for so long, for having made him feel like I was playing with his feelings, ‘Like a phantom, I will steal your heart/Until we're dancing in the dark/Like a phantom, I will steal your heart/Until we're dancing in the dark’. I chuckled, imagining Mingi hunched over his desk with a frown on his lips as he jotted the lyrics down, then smirked in triumph at the fantasy of finally having my heart in his hands—and I think he’s rather close to achieving that now, ‘Chit chat, do you want that/Or wanna take me home tonight?/All this chit chat is holding me back/And I'm breaking just to bend your light/I thought I told you, I really need your sugar/A rollercoaster, I'm going supernova/Chit chat is holding me back/To you, you’. I tried to refrain from grinning too hard at the lyrics. Going back home with Mingi wasn’t a repulsive thought anymore as it would have been a month ago. No, now I would rather go home with him. I wanted to be around him, I wanted him.

‘Oh, my oh, my oh my/Why's it every night/I'm feeling so sleepless?/Oh, why oh, why oh why?/I'm losing my mind/Maybe you're the reason’, I couldn’t help but gulp at the thought of Mingi not being able to sleep, bothered by thoughts of me, ‘Started as friends, but less than lovers/It's all making sense/On days, I'm thinking about us/Yeah, I know I'm so selfish/Hate the thought of someone else/Making you laugh, smiling, happy, if it ain't me or myself’. I gulped, feeling like Mingi got a glimpse inside my head too, making me remember how quickly and easily my jealousy previously flared whenever I saw him talking to the blonde girl. ‘I was more than just a body in your passenger seat/And you were more than just somebody I was destined to meet/I see you go half-blind when you're looking at me’, my breath faltered for a second as I quickly read over the lyrics again, wondering just how obvious it was to everyone else but myself that I was into Mingi, that he was into me.

‘I, I, I never thought I'd find true love/I, I guess I wasn't looking hard enough/If my heart stops now, you're the one thing that made it all worth it/If the sky falls down, right now, you're the one that I'll worship’, the words had no reason getting to me, yet I couldn’t help but flush hard as I blinked my eyes and rubbed at them, trying to cool off for a second, but I was too curious of what more was in the notebook, ‘Well, I heard you whisper/To all your friends/I heard you telling them that/You need a man in whom you can depend’. I chuckled, feeling amused but completely in awe of Mingi’s lyrics, his words somehow making complete sense and almost like a challenge to admit he was right about me, ‘Well I'd be the gasoline/To keep you alive/And I'd be the cold, so unbreakable/We'd burn together straight through the night/That's alright’. And now I had no doubts that Mingi would do anything for me, but what he didn’t know just yet, was that I would be his ride and die from now on.

‘Oh, and my love/Did I mistake you for a sign from God?/Or are you really here to cut me off?/Or maybe just to turn me on’, and perhaps if breathing became harder, it would be obvious to anyone as I tried to regulate my breaths and ignore the flush over my body, ‘'Cause these days/I would be lying if I told you that/I didn't wish that I could be your man/Or maybe make a good girl bad’. I gulped and sat up straighter, flipping another page hurriedly to read more of the song’s lyrics, easily imagining Mingi up on stage, raspy and smooth voice blending into the microphone and making the hairs on my arms stand as we made eye contact, his gaze intense and sharp, challenging in a way that would get me all bothered and hot, ‘I've got a river running right into you/I've got a blood trail, red in the blue/Something you say or something you do/The taste of the divine’. And I honestly to God hoped to see them perform this song one day, curious of what the band would sound like together, of Mingi’s voice and his eyes, ‘You've got my body, flesh and bone/The sky above, the Earth below/Nothing to say and nowhere to go/A taste of the divine’. I was ready to turn another page when my phone dinged loudly, making me flinch in surprise as I was completely immersed in Mingi’s lyrics.

Mings 🖤: home i hope you enjoy whatever you find in there some are spicy lol

Without thinking much, I pressed the dial button next to his name and raised the phone to my ear, my heart beating out of my chest. It barely rang twice before Mingi’s deep voice greeted me through the phone and I gulped, mouth working faster than my brain, “Mingi.”

“Yes, doll?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The deafening silence was filled with the loud thumps of my heart that only I could hear, and I was sure my pulse was way too high, but I couldn’t care less as I listened carefully to hear Mingi’s reaction. His gasp was loud as I licked my lips, eyes boring into the notebook again, “I read it, your lyrics.”

More silence, until there was a deep breath and Mingi’s raspy voice made me sink in on myself, goosebumps covering my whole body, “Good, because I think I’m already in love with you.”

I huffed out a breath, my smile was huge as Mingi’s chuckle that followed sounded breathless but somehow as if he was at ease. I couldn’t help but fall back on my bed, holding onto the phone tightly as I pushed the notebook to the side, eyes falling on my sketchbook, “I��ll send you something, listen to it now.”

“Alright, thank you.” Mingi hummed and then hung up, making my heartbeat quicken once again as I watched the dots in our chat move, and then a voice file was sent, with a message attached to listen to it with headphones. I quickly turned onto my stomach to reach for my nightstand, grabbing the headphones and connecting it to my phone as I placed it on my head, biting my lower lip as a familiar melody, lyrics, and voice traveled through the headphones, covering my skin in goosebumps.

『'Cause I'm telling you, you're all I need

I promise you, you're all I see

'Cause I'm telling you, you're all I need

I'll never leave

So, you can drag me through hell

If it meant I could hold your hand

I will follow you, 'cause I'm under your spell

And you can throw me to the flames

I will follow you, I will follow you』

❱❱ Epilogue

A/N: Can y'all imagine this was supposed to be the last chapter?? lol, back in December when I wrote the whole plot this is how I tied everything up BUT THEN, maybe around two months ago I was tbh just gushing to my bestie about Mingi and some other things, and I realized, wait a minute-I can totally write this for LMLAR?! And so, that's how the epilogue came into existence, which I'm grateful for because I feel like it ends the story on a good note *cries*, would you like me to post the epilogue this week on Friday or next week on Wednesday? majority wins lol

↳Perm. taglist: @orshii @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @thestarskiller @zuuhaa

@aaa-sia @gong-fourz @a-tinycarat @sooberryworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

@anastasiamin860 @yunhogrippers @vcutparis @tunaasan @blvckarabixnvoid

@yusalterego @arigakittyo @slowee00 @jaerisdiction @hey-syia

@vnessalau @oddracha @chatsgotmytongue @potatos-on-clouds @yunhowooyo

@watermelon2319 @yoongzsmile28 @klllerwaifu @apriecotte @hwasbbyg

@kyeos4ng @samiiy20 @woosanhobros @aswho1estuff @khjoongie98

@ateez-main-yapper @kang-ulzzang @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @ginger-mingi @redzie02

@unholywriters @autieofthevalley @roomsofangel @peachyy-joonie @baeksofty

@tunafishyfishylike @syubseokie @jycas @fandom-freak-geek @intaksfav

@itswaffleberry @e3ellie @skz1-4-3 @hoe4yunho @kyeomooniee

@winklehwa @eyesonlyformingi @khjssss @torieisawesome99

❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

156 notes · View notes

hwaslayer · 7 months ago

Text

project: make you love me (jyh) | nineteen. (final)

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 5.5k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, some alcohol consumption, seonghwa (lmao im jk just had to do it one time for the one time - hes not really a warning but he does pop in for a second), oral (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, praising, lots and lots of kisses

—on rotation: universe - thuy ・complicated - nivea

—a/n: & we've come to the end 😭 sobbing!! tysm for all your love on this one, i truly appreciate every single one of you that cried, loved and supported this couple from day one!! <33 it truly meant a lot to me. i hope to see you alongside of me on the next journey hehe 💕 find my upcoming works here & lmk if you wanna be on the taglists! if you need something more sad & angsty, here is home. ILYYYY!!

"Baby! Yeo!" You squeal when you see Yunho lined up with Yeosang amongst the crowd of graduates waiting to pile their way in to the field where the ceremony would be taking place. He waves, tall and proud in his cap and gown, blushing from ear to ear when you rush over for a quick hug.

"Pretty girl." He mumbles against your head before kissing you on the temple. "Go get your seat before it fills up." His hands are on your waist as he looks down at you, brushing the hair away from your face.

"I know, but I just had to see you really quickly." You point to your friends behind you, all holding up cardboard cut outs of Yunho and Yeosang's faces. "Look! We came prepared!" They laugh.

"I'm glad you picked a nice photo of me at least."

"Oh, we have both cute and funny faces, don't worry." Yeosang rolls his eyes before giving off another chuckle. You slip a water bottle filled halfway with tequila in Yunho's hand, making Yeosang give off a loud laugh when he realizes what you're giving them.

"Babe." Yunho says almost in a scolding manner that makes you giggle.

"You've got a whole 3-4 hours or so of a graduation ceremony, love! What else are you gonna do?!"

"She's right, what are we gonna do?"

"Oh my— go, babe. We're gonna head in soon." You laugh and give him a quick peck on the lips before squeezing his hand.

"Okay, okay. I love you. Enjoy!"

"I love you, too." You wave once more before running off to your friends and heading out onto the lawn. It's a beautiful day out, and the sun is already shining even though it's still early in the morning. You, your friends, your mom and sister, and Yunho's mom and aunt eventually find ways to each other and take place in some seats right by the stage and underneath the shade.

As expected, the ceremony kicks off and it's a long one. The President of the school speaks before other distinguished professors and a special guest speaker take over the mic. Yunho and Yeosang surprisingly do take a few swigs from the water bottle mid-speech, catching other graduates doing the same to keep themselves alive and on the same high they started with this morning. Once they start handing out diplomas to the graduates by school/department, it tacks on another hour or so before they're finally reaching the Computer Science department.

"Oh shit, finally!" Soobin says, fixing his position in his seat and getting his phone ready.

"Are they even going in alphabetical order?" Seungmin stands, stepping aside to make sure he isn't blocking the view.

"Nope. They're going by row, I think." Chaery stands before pointing and grabbing you by the arm. "Wait, wait! Yunho and Yeo are standing now!" You stand and let your family and his family know that it might be time to head closer towards the stage. The entire group makes their way towards the side of the stage that is blocked off solely for family and loved ones to snap photos of their graduates. You sneak your way past a few people, bringing everyone closer in an area where Yunho and Yeosang could see the group clearly as they walk across the stage and off.

The first to walk across the stage is Yeosang; his family roars next to you while you all hold up his boards. You snap a few photos of him just as he walks off and quickly flashes his diploma before waving one last goodbye to get to his seat. At this point, Yunho takes a step onto the stage, waiting for his name to be called. You feel the tears welling in your eyes when you find that Yunho isn't looking at anyone but you.

"I love you." He mouths out and subtly taps his chest just as they call his name.

"I love you, too." You mouth back before snapping his photos— catching that sparkle in his eye, that beautiful smile on his face. That's your man and you love him so, so much.

"Jeong Yunho!" Chaery yells as you all put up the blown up boards of his face. You all cheer and scream for him as he finally crosses the stage and grabs his diploma, doing a little celebratory dance as he steps down and passes everyone for final photos. Yunho quickly grabs your hand and presses a light kiss to the surface before running off to his seat. "I swear to God, you two are the sweetest." Chaery pokes out her bottom lip before throwing her arm around your shoulder. "That man loves you and adores you to bits, Y/N."

"And I do, too." She squeezes you as you all make your way back to your seats to endure the rest of the graduates getting their diplomas.

"Do you guys have any plans for Yunho and Yeosang tonight?" Your mom leans over to ask and you shake your head.

"No, they didn't wanna do anything besides the lunch thingy we're all going to."

"Oh, really? Not even a party?" You shake your head.

"Nope. I promise you, we tried." Your mom chuckles and nods.

As the rest of the ceremony finally comes to an end, caps are being tossed in the air from all directions while the graduates celebrate in unison one last time. You hurriedly run to the nearest bathroom because your body decides this would be the best time to do so. Luckily, there isn't much of a line or anything so you're able to slip in and out after relieving yourself. But once you head back to the lawn, you find yourself completely lost in a sea full of graduates, their families and loved ones. When you tippy-toe to try and find Yunho, you surprisingly can't find a glimpse of him and it makes you a bit anxious.

"Oops, sorry—"

"Sorry—" You look up. "Seonghwa." You bump into him as you continue to try and navigate your way through the crowd to find Yunho and Yeosang, with Seonghwa also trying to find his family in the sea of people.

"Oh, hey." He looks down at you.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you." He says with a small smile.

"I really do wish you the best." He looks at you before looking down at his feet and nodding.

"I appreciate that, Y/N. I hope senior year treats you well." You give him a toothless smile before you finally spot Yunho over his shoulder. Seonghwa watches as your smile grows, hearing the small squeals leave your lips when you finally spot Yunho with your friends and family.

"Thanks. Good luck!" You bid Seonghwa farewell once and for all before running over to your boyfriend. Of course, Seonghwa keeps his eyes trained on you two for a bit while you swing your arms around Yunho's neck and kiss him so sweetly, so lovingly. Yunho looks down at you like the entire world is handed to him on a gold platter, like you hold the galaxies in your eyes, like every inch of you has been crafted by the stars.

You are everything to him, and it's clear even for someone like Seonghwa— who isn't sure how to give love, yet is very open to receiving it. He could've had that, if he wasn't so dumb. You really did believe in him at one point, but he didn't do anything with it. He didn't choose you.

But truthfully, in the end, he's happy you're happy. Even though it took him awhile to fully understand that. He knew he couldn't fully give you what you wanted, and he knows Yunho is way better than he'll ever be. You deserve that, and Seonghwa knows he should've tried harder when he had you. Not after.

Life's a bunch of learning lessons, and he truly gets that now.

"Congrats, baby!" You giggle when Yunho presses repeated kisses against your face, holding you against him.

"Hey! Turn to the camera!" Your mom yells from behind you. "Let me snap some photos of you and the handsome graduate! Hurry! Food's waiting!" Your mom playfully scolds you before snapping a bunch of photos. Everyone is taking their time snapping photos of you and Yunho, you and your friends with Yunho and Yeosang, and it takes a good bit before everyone is satisfied enough to leave.

Yeosang's family joins everyone for a celebratory meal at the bbq restaurant in the city. It's a late celebratory lunch being that it's a bit past noon, but everyone is happy and still in good spirits despite the long ceremony and warmer weather. It's nice to see everyone you love under one roof, with Yunho and Yeosang rightfully being celebrated for all their hardwork. While your mom and sister sit alongside of Yunho's mom and aunt, your dad calls mid-dinner to congratulate Yunho over Facetime and apologizes for missing the ceremony due to a business trip. Yunho eventually ends up agreeing to a random fishing date with your dad in the coming weeks, making you laugh how cutely [and quickly] he agreed.

"Babe." You look up at him sweetly as everyone exits the restaurant, your hand loosely intertwined with his.

"When you say my name like that, you're always up to no good." You playfully smack him with a gasp.

"Oh my god, not even!" You giggle. "I just wanted to know if you're happy."

"Of course I am."

"Do you wanna do anything else to celebrate?"

"Nah." He shakes his head and boops your nose. "Just wanna spend time with you. Besides, I told you I'd take you somewhere this summer, remember? That'll be a way to celebrate."

"I feel like I wanna do more for you."

"You do a lot for me already. I promise." He squeezes your hand.

"I'm gonna be honest, and it's probably gonna sound lame, but a nap sounds really nice right now." Yeosang says. "We got up way too early for graduation." You laugh.

"Why don't we nap and head to the beach tonight for a chill bonfire?" Soobin suggests with a shrug. "So we can celebrate but also not do too much?"

"That actually sounds amazing." Chaery looks at with a surprised expression. "Way to go, Choi!" She punches him on the arm, earning a small groan in response.

"Yeah, I'm down for that."

"I'll drive us and see if the others wanna come along?" Yeosang and Yunho nod.

"Yay!" You clap before bidding farewell to your mom, sister, Yunho's mom and his aunt.

As expected, everyone heads their separate ways and gets ready to relax for the early afternoon. Chaery and Seungmin head off to the grocery store to grab a few drinks and snacks for tonight, and some ice for the cooler. After taking a quick shower, you head back to Yunho's— already finding Yeosang's door shut close, while Yunho is also in bed with an arm lazily draped over his face. As you quietly shut the door behind you and walk towards his bed, you hear Yunho's small snores a little clearer. You giggle to yourself as you carefully climb over and take your place on the empty side of the bed, but Yunho is quick to shift in his own position and throw an arm around you as soon as he feels the bed dip. His hand gently squeezes at your side just as he presses up against your back, letting out a soft sigh against the back of your head.

"Sorry baby." He sleepily says. "Tried waiting but I got sleepy."

"That's okay, Yuyu. Go back to sleep." He presses a light kiss to your head before snuggling closer to you. Within a few minutes, you feel your lids getting heavier, breathing more regulated. It's not long before you fall into a deep sleep with Yunho cuddled behind you; also meeting you in your dreams.

Eventually, your slumber comes to an end when you feel Yunho pressing light kisses to your jaw, cheek, neck and head. You giggle as your eyes flutter open, giving your body a tiny, but good stretch in Yunho's arms.

"Awake already?"

"Mm, we slept for like 3 hours." He laughs. "We should eat before we head to the beach."

"What do you wanna eat? I'm too content here." You chuckle.

"I could name a few things." Yunho smirks before gently nibbling on your earlobe and giving your thigh a squeeze.

"You go to sleep for 3 hours and wake up like this?!" You snort.

"Baby." He whines, so you turn to look at him.

"And here I thought you really wanted to eat."

"I do! I'm just in the mood for a variety of things."

"Oh?" You let out a loud squeal when Yunho comes for your neck and starts attacking you with more kisses.

"Oy! I can hear you two from out here!" Chaery says from outside the door, causing the both of you to pause and look towards the door.

"When did she get here?" You ask. Yunho snorts as he continues to play around, hand teasing at the edge of your panties. "Yunho!"

"What?" He nips at your neck.

"You lovebirds awake or what? We brought some food over." Seungmin asks right by the door. You can hear both him and Chaery mumbling from behind— something along the lines of:

Should we just knock?

Should we go in?

You think they're still sleeping after hearing her earlier?

What if they're indecent and in compromised positions?

Dude, just tell them the food is outside, they'll come when they're ready.

You laugh to yourself amidst Yunho's kisses, internally shaking your head at your roommates for almost acting on their thoughts. You return your attention back to your boyfriend, who is looking at you adoringly even as his fingers continue to trace the material of your panties.

"Food is outside when you two are done!" Seungmin says, followed by an 'ow' afterwards.

"Yunho, what are you up to?"

"I'll be quick." He laughs. "Just wanna please you."

"Everyone is outside!"

"You can be quiet though, right?" He lowers himself under the blankets, taking his position in between your thighs. You bite onto your bottom lip, feeling Yunho tug your panties down before slipping in two digits. You let out a quiet, breathy moan, twitching when you suddenly feel him latch onto your clit— tongue working magic around your core.

"Oh shit—" Your moan gets louder and Yunho gives your thigh a squeeze to warn you. You feel the pleasure quickly building in your gut, slowly working your hips against his mouth; hands gripping his hair with good pressure. You feel him pick up the pace, pumping into you faster before he focuses on your clit alone, letting you grind your hips against him. He groans against you, pressing his hips deeper into the mattress to feel some kind of friction, to relieve himself in any way possible. "Yunho, fuck—" Sooner or later, your orgasm washes over you and completely takes over your senses. You tremble against him, back arching off of the mattress as the aftershocks trickle through you. "Jesus, babe."

"Mhm, but you feel good, don't you?" He pokes out of the covers, laughing with rose-tinted cheeks.

"What about you?"

"I'm good." He leans in to kiss you. "That's all I needed."

"You're crazy."

"I love you, too." He kisses you again. "Ready to actually eat?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" You laugh, letting Yunho get up and fix himself first. You throw on some sweats, also following suit to make sure you look decent enough for your friends.

"Wow, finally." Chaery says when she sees Yunho ski-daddle to the bathroom with a quick wave, you plopping yourself down onto the living room floor next to her. "You good?" She teases, nudging you in the arm.

"Mm, thanks for bring the food."

"Course."

"Who else is tagging along?"

"Hyunjin. Yeonjun. Jongho. Minnie. Someone else, I forgot though." Soobin says. "They're riding with Jongho."

"I'm surprised they're still around. Usually, they're all quick to dip as soon as finals are over." Chaery adds. "Eat up, replenish your stamina." She hands Yunho a plate when he plops onto the floor next to you.

"Thank you." He flashes her a bright, playful smile. "Did you guys get everything for tonight?"

"Mhm!"

"You should've told us. We could've chipped in." Yeosang nods in agreement.

"Um, this is for you guys. Why on earth would I do that?" She laughs. "No, absolutely not. I just want you guys to have fun and enjoy tonight."

"Thank you." Yeosang repeats with a small smile. Everyone finishes up eating in the living room before Yeosang and Soobin are hauling the cooler into his car for tonight's festivities. As soon as the sun sets, the group piles into the car, squeezing into the back to fit [as safely as possible]. The beach Soobin picks isn't the usual, popular beach that everyone tends to go to. He decides it's best to go to the smaller one that's tucked off to the side so it isn't bombarded with people on a beautiful night like tonight. It takes a quick 10-min drive down the highway, along with tackling a curvy, winding road before Soobin is driving down a small, quiet residential area and pulling up at a dead-end.

"Jongho and them are here already." He says, pulling up behind their car along the side of the street near the dead-end sign. Everyone hops out and grabs what they can to haul it over to the beach, having to walk down the path in order to reach the sand. Jongho and the rest of the group already have a huge fire going, chairs situated around the fire with a few snacks and the bluetooth speakers softly playing music laying around.

"Finally!" Jongho says with his arms wide open. "Congrats Yunho and Yeo!"

"Thanks, my guy!" Yunho responds with a laugh, greeting your friends with a hug and thanking them for hanging out to celebrate. Everyone gets started with rounds of shots before dancing around in the sand and splashing in the water. Yunho's happily singing along to the songs even as you two walk into the water and try to playfully splash each other. At once, he carries you and attempts to throw you into the water, laughing away as you chase him and scold him for even trying.

When you finally settle back onto the chair and start roasting some marshmallows for smores, Yunho plops onto the chair next to you— gently nudging you on the arm before kissing you on the cheek.

"Making some smores?" You giggle and nod.

"Want one?"

"Sure." You throw a marshmallow onto another stick, keeping it near the fire. While waiting for it to be perfectly roasted, you look up and admire the stars strung across the velvety sky.

The moon.

"Yunho."

"Yeah?"

"It's a full moon." He looks at you with a small smile before kissing you on the temple, helping you arrange his smores on a plate.

"It is, and I want you to remember this one and the next ones to come."

"Why?"

"Just cause." He gives you a small smile, happy to have made the moon something you two could share, something that will always serve as a reminder of the love you two hold for each other. "It's our thing, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is our thing." You giggle, resting your head on his shoulders while you continue to watch your friends fool around on the sand and enjoy themselves under the clear, night sky. "I'm proud of you, you know that right? Incredibly proud of you."

"I know."

"I'll be the support you every step of the way."

"Thank you, love. And I'll be here, too. I'm here."

♣︎ SUMMER

You splashed in the clearest, bluest waters you've ever seen, Yunho coming behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You give off a tiny scream when he surprises you from behind, lifting you and dropping you back into the water.

"Jeong Yunho!" You laugh mid-scold, wiping the water from your face.

"I like it when you say my name." He smirks, followed by a deep laugh. "Sorry, baby. I had to."

"You're lucky I like you." He smiles, hands resting on your waist to pull you close.

"That's a shame, I thought you loved me, too." He teases while you wrap your arms around his neck.

"You're lucky I love you."

"Ah, that's better." He licks his lips, water droplets slowly falling down his face from his wet hair. "Mind if I kiss you, pretty girl?"

"Not at all." You bite onto your bottom lip before Yunho leans forward for a kiss, holding it for as long as he possibly can before he's pulling back. He presses one, two, three repeated kisses before giving your hips a squeeze.

"Wanna head back to the room?"

"Yeah, actually. I'm kinda pooped from splashing in the water all day."

"Same." He laces his fingers with yours as you both walk out of the water and back towards the resort.

"What do you want for dinner tonight?"

"Um, I don't know. Let me figure that out. You just relax." He gives you a small smile. The sand feels warm but soft beneath your feet, and the sun is still shining even though it's getting ready to set soon. Thankfully, it isn't nearly as bright and hot as it was earlier in the day anymore. You grab your things from the beach chair, washing off your feet under the water spout before slipping back into your slippers and following the trail back into the resort.

When you step back into the room, Yunho is quick to start a hot shower for you, claiming he'll take care of dinner. So, you hop in and take your time underneath the hot water; letting it ease the slight soreness that came from swimming and playing in the water most of the day. Yunho makes a quick trip down the street to pick up some food, laying everything out on the balcony table so that you two could enjoy it during a peaceful night.

"Aw, babe! When did you go out and grab this?" You say as you walk out to the balcony in your cute grey shorts and matching hoodie.

"When you were swimming in the shower." You laugh and playfully punch him on the bicep.

"I did not take that long. But, thank you." You tippytoe to give him a peck.

"Let me take a quick shower. I'll be out soon." He tips your chin upwards before smiling down at you.

"Okay." You settle onto the balcony chair and scroll through your phone, texting your friends while you patiently wait for Yunho to shower and get comfy for dinner. You look out at the view, admiring the way the moonlight shines down onto the surface of the water, illuminating everything near its path. It's quiet with the occasional sound of waves crashing against the sand, the occasional chatter of other families passing by to get to their rooms. It's peaceful, but it feels extra special being away from home with Yunho.

When it hits close to 20 minutes, Yunho's finally joining you in the balcony, running a hand through his damp hair as he sits in the chair next to you. The both of you begin to dig in and talk about your day, planning what else you should do tomorrow and the following day before you're having to leave and head back home. Of course, in typical Yunho fashion, he jokes around and plays around mid-meal, just wanting to hear you laugh and giggle next to him. When you both feel satisfied, he sits back and takes his turn to admire the view, his hand laced with yours as he presses kisses onto the surface.

"Baby." He says softly, his thumb caressing the surface of your hand.

"Hm?"

"Do you see the full moon?" He points upwards.

"I do." You smile at him, remembering the days when you used to walk with Yunho and look at the moon.

"Can you do me a favor then?"

"Of course."

"Keep your eyes on it for me, please?"

"What're you up to, Jeong Yunho?" You giggle, doing as asked by keeping your gaze on the full moon ahead. You don't even see Yunho move, nor do you hear him fiddle around, but you are stuck on the moon nonetheless. It's beautiful, it's bright, it's dreamy.

"Nothing." He laughs. "Tell me what you see, love."

"Yunho, I—" You turn to look at him, but before you can even say, do, anything, your eyes immediately shift to the center of the table, causing you to pause mid-sentence.

On the table is an opened small, black box with a ring inside. A simple, but beautifully chic rose gold ring that blended seamlessly into an infinity-shape near the center, a small heart-shaped diamond sitting in the middle cushioned in between smaller diamonds. It's beautiful, it's bright, it's dreamy.

"Y-Yunho." You say his name softly. Your heart is beating out of your chest because although you'd love to do this with Yunho, you aren't sure if you're entirely ready. But luckily for you, Yunho knows you well.

Very well.

And he understands. He knows the feeling all too well, too.

"I— it's a promise ring. Because as much as I want to say fuck it right now, I know we're both waiting until we're absolutely ready to build a life together. I just want you to know that I'm yours. No matter what. I'm yours and nothing's gonna change that. I'm here."

"Babe." The tears well up in your eyes as you admire the ring sitting in the box before looking back up at him. He's right, and it's what you love the most about him. He's never one to rush or pressure you into anything, he's the one who thinks logically and rationally. But, he never fails to show you just how much you mean to him, how much this relationship means to him. There was always this cloud above the both of you after that night you two talked about building a life together and doing the crazy shit grownups do. Because even though you truly love Yunho and you know he's the one you wanna be with, you still have a whole year of school ahead of you, more dance competitions ahead of you; plus, whatever else post-grad will bring for you. Yunho is still navigating his own life after graduation and even though he might be in a slightly better place than you right now, you know he's also trying to be there for his mom and aunt more. Things are still unsettled and it wouldn't be the time for you two to think about engagements, marriages, what kind of home you want, kids— even if that's the end goal.

Whatever the combination looked like.

But having Yunho do this, to give you a promise ring that shows you the want, the need, the dedication he has to be there for you every step of the way and vice versa. It means more than anything, and it's all you could've ever asked for. You're happy to know he is yours, just as you are his.

"I love it. Thank you."

"Can I?" He licks his lips, taking the ring from the box in order to slip it on your finger. You simply nod as the tears stream down your cheeks, fingers slightly shaking at the overflowing love and happiness you feel being here, being with Yunho. "Baby, why are you crying?" He chuckles a bit, leaning over to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

"I just.. I don't know. I just love you. Sometimes, it still feels so unreal." He subtly bites onto his bottom lip to prevent himself from smiling even more. But, he thinks you're so cute right now. So pretty, so beautiful. So.. his.

"Come here, love." He gestures to his lap. You silently walk over and straddle his lap, arms lazily wrapped around his neck. He leans in for a kiss, large hands resting on your hips while he indulges in the sweetness of your lips, the way you feel resting on him, your scent.

Everything.

The kiss intensifies quick, and you find yourself slowly grinding on Yunho— feeling how hard he is beneath you. It's a slow grind, one where you drag your clothed core over his length ever so nicely, just to feel every bit of him against you.

"Fuck." He hisses.

"Let's go inside, babe."

"Or.. I can take you right here, right now. Let everyone see what you do to me." He presses a kiss to your jaw. "How you make me feel." He looks up at you just as he presses another kiss to your chin. "Hm, baby? Should I just selfishly keep you to myself?" He hums, hands squeezing your hips a little harder as you continue to slowly rock against him. You let out a soft, whiny moan and it shoots straight down to Yunho's dick. After his 'lil bits of teasing, he knows at the end of the day, he just wants you to himself. No one else.

No one, nothing, in between.

So, he swiftly carries you in one motion, hurrying into the room before slamming the balcony door shut. He drops you onto the bed, immediately latching his lips onto yours in a hungry, heated kiss. He crawls in between your lap as you lay back, Yunho's hands immediately squeezing your inner thighs. He lowers himself just enough to tease your core with his clothed, hardened member. That contact alone sends tingles down your spine, enough for a moan to slip from your lips in between kisses. Yunho doesn't waste any time shedding off your clothes, admiring every inch of your body with trails of kisses, gentle touches.

"Need you." He says in your ear. "Can I have you?" You nod hastily, helping Yunho out of his shirt.

"You have me, Yunho." He pauses and looks at you for a moment, and for the first time ever, you aren't sure what it means. You aren't sure what he's feeling. But, his expression softens, his eyes are holding onto the stars, the moon, the sun, that he sees in your own. Because he has you.

He has you.

He doesn't say anything before locking his lips with yours, the need, want, desire, so evident in every move he makes. He takes a few moments to slip in two digits, just to get a feel for how wet you are. He groans against you when you arch your back upwards, too hungry, too eager, to feel you wrapped around him. He starts to pump himself a few times, spreading your wetness across his length before lining himself up at your entrance.

"Ready for me?" You nod, gasping at him pushing into you until he bottoms out to the hilt. The both of you adjust to the feeling before he begins to work you at a steady pace. But, Yunho keeps himself close to you— skin to skin, hand tightly locked with yours. It's slow and steady, intimate.

Tonight feels so much more different. So much more intense.

So much more special.

Yunho continues to whisper praises against your skin, slightly picking up his pace and making you whimper in response. He finds that he wants to feel more of you, so he sits back onto his knees and holds you flush against him while he gives you control. You start to roll your hips, hands tugging at the ends of his hair when you pick up your pace. The position has you feeling every inch of him inside of you, only wanting more— to be closer, if ever possible.

"Oh, babe—" You mewl and tilt your head back in pleasure. He takes the opportunity to nibble at your neck, tongue swiping across the surface.

"Oh shit, baby." He moans breathily. "Just like that. You're so good to me." He repeats. "So good to me." The grip on your hips gets a little stronger while Yunho guides you. He pushes you to ride him faster, clit rubbing against him so deliciously it pushes you to the edge— right where he needs you to be.

"Oh god— god Yunho." You moan loudly. "I'm gonna cum—"

"That's it. That's my good girl." He coos, holding you against him tightly. "Let me feel you." He feels your walls pulsing against him, squeezing his length tightly in all the right places. He lets out another moan as he adjusts his position and fucks up into you to chase his own high. You wrap your arms around him, whining from the sensitivity until you hear him mumble curses against your neck; groaning when he releases and fills you up. The both of you don't move from your positions for awhile, only indulging in more slow, sweet kisses despite being a sweaty mess.

"I love you so much, Y/N. You literally have no idea how much I adore you." Yunho brushes the hair away from your face. "I can't wait to see what the future holds for the both of us. Cause I'm here. I don't wanna go anywhere if it's not with you." He repeats, kissing you gently.

"I love you too, Yunho. I'm yours." You caress his cheek, taking him in; everything about him. He smiles sweetly at you, carrying you and holding you close while making his way to the bathroom.

"Time for another shower?" You laugh loudly, letting Yunho take care of you for the rest of the night in many ways.

In the end, those literature assignments would always mean something to you two. Those nights when he found you in the parking lot. The random McDonalds trips. The walks underneath the full moon. The single rose. The fight over Seonghwa and those bumps in the road.

Those will always mean something to you two because in the end, no matter the chaos, the background noise, the extra baggage, it all brought you closer together.

In the end, it blessed you with Yunho.

In the end, it blessed you with the greatest love you've ever known.

In the end, it will always be you and Yunho against the world.

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @mxnsxngie @h-nji @mundayoonimnida @jalapeno-princess @nakiiko @asjkdk @kunikku @idkwgoh @kyeos4ng @agust-d2 @araknoid @bintificreads @primoppang @aurorasjoongie @wineyoungie @yunhotteokkk @yungigiggles @jaerisdiction @ignoretheskies @luminouskalopsia @naeviscall @vixensss @choisansplushie @arya9111 @my-lightspirit @dazednconfusion @astro-doll-the-star @faesmingi @idfkeddieishot @startinystay @emily505 @mgdixon @yusalterego @cheynalexilaiho @svintsandghosts @mismatchfluffysocks @meeitany @au-ghosttype

#yunho fanfic #yunho series #jeong yunho series #jeong yunho fanfic #ateez series #ateez x reader #ateez #yunho #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #jeong yunho x reader #ateez imagines #kpop imagines #yunho smut #yunho fluff #jeong yunho smut #jeong yunho fluff #hwaslayer: project make you love me

298 notes · View notes

elllisaaa · 2 months ago

Text

PURPLE LIGHTS - L. JOOYEON

dinna's birthday special !

SUMMARY : when you decided to not buy curtains for your bedroom windows, you never thought that it would lead you to finally meet your neighbour.

-> pairing : neighbour!jooyeon x fem!reader

-> words count : 6.3k words

-> genre : strangers-to-lovers, smut, little sprinkle of fluff

-> warnings : switch!jooyeon x switch!reader, masturbation (f. & m.), voyeurism, exihibisionism, making out, dry humping, fingering, nipple play, riding, teasing, dirty talk, swearing, oral (m. receiving), deepthroating, cum play, marking, manhandling, use of 'slut' & 'good girl', rough

+ the way i'm depicting jooyeon does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction.

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language

-> author's note : here's a little gift for my favourite's girl @joocomics birthday !! i really wanted to celebrate this special day (and to have an excuse to write about jooyeon tbh). i really liked planning the scenario of this fic, and the smut scene is maybe one of my favourite i've ever written. so enjoy, and happy birthday to dinna again, I'm so proud of you and I wish you all the best, love u 💕💕 !

-> playlist : meddle about by chase atlantic - steal the show by shaun & jeff satur - connected by bangchan - watch me burn by michele morrone - i don't need your name by rosenfeld

-> masterlist | xdh masterlist

You’ve never been a big fan of curtains : it was more laundry to do, they were always ugly and they blocked the sunlight too much. You would much rather not hang them and be woken up by the light of the sun rising than having to think about closing them every night. And until this day, you’ve never regretted your choice. You had a paravent for when you needed to change in your room, and anyway, it would be your neighbors fault for looking inside of your apartment.

You had made it a habit to get off directly when you came home from college. You took a quick shower, ate a snack and got under your covers to use your fingers or your favorite vibrator. Your bed was pushed all the way back against the wall of your room, so it was almost impossible for your neighbors from the building in front of yours to know what you were doing except if they were closely observing your every movement.

So when you came home on a hot day, after having endured some exhausting classes all day, the least you had to care about was the lack of curtains hanging from the ceiling when you dropped to lay down on your bed. You didn’t even have enough willpower to wash yourself off first, knowing that you would be drenched in sweat by the time you were done anyway because the weather was really too warm. Despite the sun having set for a few hours already, the temperature wouldn’t go down. The room was dark, so you took it upon yourself to at least turn on your purple leds to see what you were doing.

You were far too horny to think about anything other than getting your relief as you slipped one hand under your skirt, fingers rubbing your clit over the material of your panties. You gasped quietly at the sensation, a fresh new wave of arousal crashing over you as you applied more pressure against the bundle of nerves, causing a moan to slip past your lips. If usually, you loved to tease yourself a bit, right now all you wanted was to finally push your fingers in and get to that orgasm. So you slipped off of your underwear rather quickly, discarding them on the floor beside your bed, your fingers immediately returning to your folds.

You spread your legs wider as your other hand came down to play with your wet entrance after having sucked on two of your fingers to coat them with your saliva. Though, you might’ve not needed that with how soaked you were. You whimpered to yourself when you pushed the first finger in, doubling the pace of your circles around your clit, matching it with the rhythm of your digit inside. It felt good to finally have something filling you up, to finally have something easing your desire. Without too much thinking, you slipped a second finger in, a real moan tumbling from your lips as you did so. You put more pressure on your clit as you moved your two fingers slowly at first, letting yourself some time to adjust to the little stretch before you picked up your pace again.

At this point, your eyes were closed shut, and your legs were trembling every time you curled your fingers just right, every time you bumped against your sweet spot. You didn’t try to be quiet - you knew that the walls were pretty thick, and to be honest, you didn’t care at all at this moment - only enjoying the moment, only enjoying how good you were feeling. As you felt yourself get closer, you opened your eyes again, only for a moment, only to fix your pillows and have your back rest against them better so that you could reach a deeper spot, a spot you knew would give you a crazy good orgasm.

But as you resumed the movements of your fingers inside of your messy cunt, you caught the gaze of your neighbor from the apartment facing yours. Your eyes widened, your first thought being that he just saw you touching yourself. But then you were attracted by the rest of his body, and that’s when you noticed he had his cock out, quickly jerking himself off as he watched you from the other side of the street. Never in a million years did you think that this situation could ever happen to you - let alone that it would turn you even more. But here you were, thrusting your fingers inside of you deeper, squeezing tight around them because the hot guy next door seemed just as gone as you were.

You couldn’t help but notice how his pretty face was deformed by pleasure, mouth hanging open, and you just had to imagine how his voice must have sounded when he was moaning. But ultimately, you were drawn right back to his hand now moving way faster around his cock, and even from where you were, you could see that his tip was glistening with precum. You could feel yourself get even wetter at the thought of him being right there instead, and you didn’t want to think about why you came harder than ever when you watched him spill his load all over his black shirt, you didn’t want to think about it as you threw your head back, almost crying out from how good you felt.

You tried to gather your thoughts as you came down from your high, trying to figure out how to handle this situation. But when you looked back at your neighbor's apartment, he had already disappeared. You didn’t know why you were disappointed at this moment, because it was certain that the post-nut clarity would hit the both of you quickly and that it would have been awkward, but still, you went to have your shower with a weird feeling about all of this. Maybe it was because you didn’t want to admit you hadn’t had an orgasm that powerful in ages. Maybe it was because you didn’t want to admit that you unleashed a new kink. Maybe it was because you always watched your neighbor from afar when you put out the trash or went home at the same time and that you thought he was really handsome. Maybe it was all that or maybe that you were just paranoid.

The next time you got a glimpse of your handsome neighbor, you looked even less put together than the last time. You were just supposed to throw out your thrash, so you didn’t care enough to dress properly - only wearing your pajama pants and an oversized shirt, your hair a mess. But if you knew you would stumble on your neighbors, dressed with a full black outfit and his hair styled perfectly, maybe you would’ve put in more effort. Though, as soon as you crossed his eyes, you made it a mission to not look at him at all. You could already feel your cheeks heating up when you remembered what happened almost a week ago.

“- Hi Miss Exhibisionist.”

Suddenly, you could feel his hot breath hitting the back of your neck as you were trying to figure out where to put your empty glass containers, and also trying to not get distracted by the surname he decided to give you. He was so close to you that you could feel his body heat through both of your clothes. You didn’t even turn around to answer, staying focused on your task because you truly didn’t know how you were supposed to act with him.

“- That’s not my name.

- Then what is it ?

- Y/N.

- Nice to officially meet you, Y/N. I’m Jooyeon.”

Once you were done putting your different types of trash into the right bins, you couldn’t avoid him anymore. So you braced yourself and you turned around to face him. It was the first time you were so close to him, so close to his seemingly flawless face. Suddenly, you felt self-conscious about how you must look beside him - you probably resembled a homeless person while he was straight out of a magazine. The only great thing coming out of this interaction was that you finally knew his name.

“- Well, I’m kinda busy, so if you could just move out of my way, Jooyeon.”

A smirk stretched out his lips as you tried to walk past him. You weren’t busy, it was a lie, you just wanted to get away from here because being close to him made you think back to what happened last week and it was clearly not a good idea to focus on that right now.

“- Oh, darling, I’m disappointed. I thought you would at least be nicer after putting on such a show for me…”

Your cheeks heated up immediately at hearing Jooyeon mentioning it so casually, as if it was nothing. The way he was looking at you with this annoyingly attractive cheeky grin made your insides swirl but it also pissed you off a little. He was acting as if he hated all this when he probably liked it even more than you, when he was the pervert for looking in the first place - and no, you will not mention that the fact that he was watching you did made you cum harder.

“- If you didn’t want to see, you just had to stop looking at me like a creep.”

You tried to bypass him again but Jooyeon was quicker than you. He grabbed on your arm, pulling you close to him while his other hand got more adventurous and slid down to your waist. You wanted to remain calm and collected but it was hard when your handsome neighbor was obviously flirting with you, it was hard when you wanted to be mad at him but couldn’t with how fast he made your heart beat.

“- A creep ? You seemed to like this creep watching you a lot though, didn’t you Miss Exhibitionist ?

- You didn’t seem to hate it either, smarty pants.

- You’re pretty but you can bite, uh ?

- Take care, I’m wilder than I look.

- Yeah ? I would love for you to show me that too.”

You were hypnotized by the way he was looking at you, and your eyes flicked down to his lips just for a second, but it was second enough for Jooyeon to notice. His smirk only grew wider as he started to lean down. And then the door of the bin storage flew open, forcing you to come back to reality. One of your neighbors entered the room, without a care in the world for what Jooyeon and you were previously doing, the old lady only throwing you a dirty glance because you were apparently on her way. You took this as an opportunity to run away, not turning around but now clearly picturing Jooyeon’s grin as he watched you go.

It wasn’t a good idea to get involved with him, you knew it. If you were logical, you knew nothing about him except that he was apparently making music because you often saw him with a bass and one of his friends came over all the time with a guitar. You knew nothing about him except that he seemed to be a voyeurist and that he was really beautiful. It wasn’t a good idea to let him mess up with your head and get into your pants so easily. Though, you couldn’t stop your mind from going back to him every time you had nothing to think about, and it wasn’t unpleasant at all to imagine his fingers replacing yours when you were touching yourself at night.

Sometimes, you did wish that he would interrupt one of your sessions again. Sometimes, you did glance at his apartment before laying down on your bed, hoping that he was home. Sometimes, you did stare at him through his windows, watching him pace around in his living room with only a pair of gray sweatpants on and drooling over his sculpted body. Sometimes, you did think that it wasn’t such a bad idea to maybe let him in for more.

However, you were so busy with college and work - not a lie this time - that you had barely any time to regret not giving Jooyeon a chance. You were still trying to catch him walking through his kitchen sometimes, but it was only because it became some kind of habit by now, and you didn’t even felt guilty about it anymore - he was the one who started it after all.

“- Hi, I’ll take an iced latte with vanilla syrup and soya milk, for here please.

- Miss Exhibisionist ?”

You quickly raised your head from your phone when you heard the familiar surname, eyes falling on Jooyeon who was standing behind the counter, his smirk already tugging at the corner of his lips despite his evident surprise.

“- Smarty pants… Glad to see you actually have a life outside of spying on me, but could you take my order ? I have things to do.

- Always busy, uh ? What are you doing to be so unavailable all the time ?”

Jooyeon spared you one last glance as he finally taped your order on the screen in front of him. You looked around the coffee shop, glad that you arrived before the usual wave of people that came here to study after classes. You personally never really went to cafés but you needed to get away from either your apartment and the campus so you figured that it would be a good idea to test something new.

“- College, my major is biology. Try to have a social life with that.”

Your neighbor chuckled as he took one cup from the pile in front of him, writing your name on it before passing it to his colleague. And you found yourself thinking that he was really cute when he was smiling like that, his eyes almost disappearing and his shoulders slightly shaking. He brushed one hand through his hair as he tapped something else on his screen before looking back at you.

“- So that’s why you need to relax ?”

And then his teasing self was back, and so was the blush covering your cheeks. You started to rummage through your bag to avoid his intense gaze, busing your mind to stop thinking about another way to relax with him.

“- You could say that I guess. How much do I owe you ?

- Nothing, darling. It’s on me, as an apology for being a creep. Your order will be ready at the counter right there.”

Jooyeon winked at you as you moved to the side, letting the girl behind you go up to order too. You almost didn’t hear the other guy calling for you as he handed you your coffee. You went to settle at a table at the back of the place to be sure that you wouldn’t be bothered too much and you finally took a look at the name Jooyeon wrote on your cup.

Miss Exihibisionist.

You glanced back at him, but he was already staring your way, his grin returning on his face as you mouthed “Smarty pants” at him. And this time, you couldn’t help the smile that stretched out your lips as you opened your laptop to try and get some work done. Surprisingly, you were able to complete this assignment you were struggling with for the past few days, and you even had the time to go over some of your notes and make them look clearer, which was a miracle for a week day as you were often only able to do that on the weekends.

You were pulled out of your work by someone lightly tapping on your shoulder, and you were so immersed in your music that you didn’t even noticed that someone was coming your way, causing you to jump in your place as you slid off your headphones and turned your head to discover that Jooyeon was standing by your side, an apologetic smile on his face.

“- Sorry, I didn’t want to scare you.

- No, it’s okay, I was just surprised.

- I’m gonna close the café soon, so I don’t want to interrupt you but…”

As you finally took the time to look around, you observed that you were in fact the last customer of the café. You simply nodded at Jooyeon and got up to pack up your things, not wanting to hold him back at work more than he needed.

“- Yeah, no problem. I didn’t realize it was that late, sorry.

- I figured, you seemed very concentrated, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

You raised your head and caught a glimpse of Jooyeon putting the chairs on top of the tables so that the morning shift would just have to swipe the floors quickly. You could feel your heart flutter at his carefulness. So not only was he a musician, a handsome man with a pretty cock (from what you had seen) but he was also nice ? If you weren’t cautious, you might want to fall in love because Jooyeon revealed to be exactly your type. You put your pencil case back in your bag before hanging it on your shoulder and heading for the door when you were interrupted again by the voice you were starting to get familiar with.

“- Wait, Y/N. I’m almost done, and it’s already dark outside, so let me walk you home, yeah ?”

You turned around to look at him, and again, you just nodded. And again, this beautiful smile of his took over his features as he untied his apron.

“- I’ll be back in a minute.”

You waited for Jooyeon by the door, answering to some texts you had received during your study session while he was getting his things in the back. He came back with his jacket put on and his backpack hanging from one of his shoulders, two packets of pastries in his hands. You followed him outside, and let him lock the front door before you finally started to walk toward your building.

“- These are for you. We had a lot of left-over pastries today, and if no one takes them when leaving, they’re going to trash so I hope you have a sweet-tooth.”

You took the bag he handed you, the sugary smell of the frostage mixed with the one of chocolate already making you drool. It wasn’t polite to just bite down on one of the cakes in front of him, but you were barely resisting the urge because you were starving, your last meal being the lunch you had midday. You smiled at him as a thank you, a genuine smile that got to your eyes.

“- That’s adorable, thank you.”

And the silence fell back on the two of you. It was both comfortable and awkward. You wanted to strike up a conversation with him, but when walking in the dark, alone with him, the memories from almost a month ago were as vivid as ever.

“- So, you work at the café full-time ?”

It was lame, but it was the only subject of discussion you could manage to find without coming back to this day again. But Jooyeon actually seemed pleased to answer, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he plunged his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“- No, only part time. It’s just a way to have enough money to pay my rent and the groceries, even if I grew to love the job, it’s not what I want to do with my life.

- And what is your dream then ?

- Music.

- I could’ve guessed.”

Jooyeon quickly glanced at you, his eyes widening in surprise. And it was his turn to feel his heart beat faster at the fact that you had noticed that about him even if it was only your first real conversation.

“- How ? Are you a witch ?

- Maybe, who knows ?

- I’ll take care to not piss you off then, I don’t want you to cast a spell on me.”

You giggled at his joke, and the grin that stretched his lips was starting to get more attractive and less annoying as time went on.

“- Seriously, I often see you with your bass, and there’s this guy who always comes by with a guitar. It was an easy guess.

- So that means you’re spying on me too, Miss Exibitionist ?”

You couldn’t help the blush that crept up on your cheeks and neck, and you wondered if he would ever stop having that effect on you one day. You looked down at your feet, trying to avoid both his gaze and the fact that you were almost there. Because, strangely enough, you didn’t want this moment to end, you wanted to keep talking to him, you wanted to know more about him.

“- In your dreams, Smarty pants.

- You really don’t know how to lie, darling. That’s cute.”

The compliment left you a blushing mess, your heart missing a beat everytime your hand brushed against Jooyeon’s fingers as you both walked slower now that you could see your building from where you were. You didn’t want this night to end yet, but maybe it was ambitious of you to think that anything could happen between you and him so soon. Though, you didn’t think that you read all the signs wrong, so why not shoot your shot after all ?

“- Wanna know the truth then ?

- Go on, that's all I’ve been waiting for.”

You took a breath before stopping in front of your building door (an exit if it didn’t end like you wished for), keeping eye-contact with him as you spilled everything.

“- I liked it when you watched me, I liked it everytime you teased me, and if we hadn’t been interrupted, I probably would’ve let you kiss me last time. I kept looking at you because I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened and I wished you could’ve caught me again. Maybe I am the creep in the end.”

Jooyeon stayed quiet for a few seconds, and you were already about to apologize for being so straightforward and making things weird when he cupped your face in between his hands and crashed his lips against yours. It was your turn to be surprised, eyes widening and your hands falling on his shoulders because you didn’t know what to do with them. But as Jooyeon moved his lips against yours, you slowly melted in the kiss, your arms going to wrap around his neck and pulling him even closer to you as you kissed him back just as fervently.

“- I’ve wanted to do that ever since I got a glimpse of your pretty pussy, darling. I couldn’t stop thinking about you either, you were always in my mind, driving me fucking crazy.

- Please, Jooyeon, don’t tease anymore.

- I’ll tease you another time. Right now, I just want you. Come back to my place ?

- Fuck, yes, I can’t wait anymore.”

Jooyeon laughed at your eagerness, grabbing your hand to lead you to the entrance of his building, quickly pushing you into the elevator and not even waiting for the doors to close to attack your lips again. You were pressed between his body and the wall, his fingers tracing a line from your knee to your inner thigh over the thighs you were wearing with your skirt, soft gasps escaping the both of you as your tongues found each other.

You barely registered the sound of the elevator doors opening, only acknowledging that you were at Jooyeon’s floor when he detached himself from you and held your hand again to guide you to his apartment. His hands were shaking a little as he unlocked the door, and you couldn’t help but think that there definitely was a cuter side to him. A side you will not search for tonight apparently as he lifted you in his arms as soon as he closed the door behind him, carrying you to his bedroom with ease, his lips never leaving yours. He sat down on his bed, letting you straddle his lap, his boner pressing against your clothed heat.

“- You’re so pretty Y/N… I couldn’t help myself when I saw you this day, couldn’t detach my eyes from you.

- I’m glad you didn’t. I loved it.

- I could tell.”

His teasing smile was starting to drive you insane, and you cupped his face and captured his lips again to shut him up, which Jooyeon wasn’t mad about because he was already addicted to your taste. His hands went to take a hold of your waist, encouraging you to rock your hips against him. He let out a low groan at the friction, and you immediately drowned out his sound in your mouth, swallowing your own whines of pleasure. Without any words, Jooyeon took advantage of his strength to change the position and lay you down on his mattress, expertly starting to undress you, his eyes devouring every new part of your bare skin that was exposed to him.

“- Not fair, get rid of some clothes too.”

Jooyeon chuckled at the way you were pouting, trying to push away his jacket that he didn’t care enough to take off before taking you to his room.

“- Eager, are we darling ?

- Shut up, you’re the one who couldn’t keep his hands for himself in the elevator.

- Touché.”

He grinned at you as he discarded his clothes one by one, too slowly to your liking, but at the same time you were drinking in his toned body, your mind already drifting to all the ways you wanted him to ruin you, to all the ways you wanted to worship him.

“- Happy now ?

- Very. Come here.”

Jooyeon didn’t waste any more time to get on top of your now naked body again, his lips crashing on yours for the ninth time of the night. But you weren’t going to complain, especially not when he started to let his hands wander around, his feather-like touches brushing against your hips, your shoulders, your collarbone and your stomach, leaving you shivering and yearning for more. At this point, Jooyeon was too impatient to let things drag even more, sneaking one of his hands between your thighs and groaning when he found you already wet for him.

In any other circumstances, you would’ve certainly felt ashamed of how excited you were, but considering that Jooyeon had already seen a lot for someone you barely knew, the embarrassment quickly died and pleasure took over you as his thumb circled your clit slowly, but applying enough pressure to make your head spin and get some whines to slip past your lips. Jooyeon didn’t know whether he wanted to focus on your gorgeous face or on the way your pussy was glistening, literally dripping for him in a way that made him hungry, hungry for you, hungry for your taste.

“- You’re gonna let me touch your pretty cunt, darling ?

- Yes, please…

- Good girl.”

The nickname paired with one of his fingers sliding inside of you made you moan out. Your thighs tried to close on their own, but Jooyeon was quick to pin one of your legs down, keeping you in place for him to thrust his finger slowly.

“- Feels good ?

- Hm, yeah, give me another one.

- You’re so greedy for my fingers, baby. It’s cute.”

You didn’t have the mind to find something clever to answer him when he pushed another finger inside of you, eliciting another moan from you. You couldn’t tell him that you actually touched yourself several times to the thought of his fingers replacing yours. You couldn’t tell him how bad you had wished this would come true. But from the way you were clenching around his fingers, Jooyeon understood, his pretty grin not leaving his lips as he bent down to kiss and mark your neck.

“- Jooyeon…

- My name’s sounds so good in your mouth, fuck…”

If anything, your little whimpers only encouraged him to speed up his movements, lewd noises from how wet you were echoing through the room as Jooyeon silenced his own sounds by sucking some hickeys on your collar bones. And then, he let his mouth wander lower, his lips closing around your right nipple, his eyes never leaving yours as he licked it. You could feel his smile against your skin when you moaned louder, your hands flying to his head and tangling in between his blond strands of hair.

“- I’m close, I’m gonna cum.”

Jooyeon groaned around your left nipple that he decided to attack too, keeping up the rhythm of his fingers and only slightly changing the angle of his hand so that his palm would put pressure on your clit too. Being stimulated from so many different areas at the same time brought you right to the edge, and you only needed one more push of his fingers inside of you to cum, your whole body trembling as Jooyeon tried to keep his pace steady, only coming at a stop when you pried him away from you. And he made a show of lifting his hand up to his mouth, licking his fingers clean from your release, intentionally moaning when he did so just to see you bite down on your lips and look at him with lust playing in your eyes.

“- You taste so good, shit… I’ll never get enough of that.”

This time, it was on your lips that a smirk grew, knowing that you had the power to ruin him with only your pussy. So when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to be able to kiss him again, it was not entirely innocent, only meant to make him lose his mind a little bit more. And you succeeded ; soon enough, Jooyeon was moaning into your mouth as you let your hands roam around his body, his own unable to detach themselves from your curves either.

“- Let me ride you, please, I wanna make you feel good too.

- Anything you want, darling.”

Jooyeon let you get on top of him, his hands immediately taking a hold of your waist as you started to grind against his rock hard cock. It was pretty, and you couldn’t wait for the moment you would have it inside of you, but it was only fair that you teased him a little too.

“- You’re so wet Y/N, so damn wet for me right ?

- You think it’s for you ?

- Yeah, I do. Don’t pretend you weren’t crying for my fingers two minutes ago, darling.”

For once, his grin quickly disappeared as you sank down on him as soon as he finished talking, desire taking over his features and his eyes closing shut as he tried to conceal the fact that he was deep inside of you, your velvety walls squeezing him so tight he could barely think anymore.

“- F-Fuck… You can’t do that baby…

- Why not ? Can’t handle my pussy, Smarty pants ?

- Take care, Miss Exhibisinist, you’re the one that will end up begging by the end of the night if you don’t watch your mouth.”

But again, you were the one to shut him up this time as you slowly got up and dropped back on his cock, forcing another moan out of him, his hands gripping hard on your waist. You knew he could overpower you so easily if he wanted to, but right now, he seemed helpless underneath you, his breath hitching in his throat as you started to roll your hips in a way that made him feel like he was seeing heaven.

“- Not so cocky now, uh ?

- Shut up.”

But Jooyeon wasn’t convincing anymore with the way he tried to conceal his moans by biting his lips every time you dropped down on his dick. He felt so good inside of you, his length able to reach so deep you weren’t sure if you could go back to your stupid toys ever again. Your hands found his waist and you rested them there as you leaned down to kiss on his neck, spending a little more time on his prominent Adam's apple that had been driving you crazy since the first day. His grip on your hips tightened again, and he threw his head back at the change of angle and rhythm - you were going slower, but deeper, allowing him to feel every inch of your tight cunt and he was losing his mind.

“- Y/N…

- My name sounds so good in your mouth…”

The sly smirk on your lips as you whispered the words right back at him in his ears was what did it for him. Jooyeon had enough of you playing with him, he wanted to have his fun too. As if you weighed nothing, he easily lifted you from his cock and threw you on the mattress, maneuvering you into the position he wished - your head buried into his pillow, ass up for him to slap and relishing in the way you whined loudly.

“- Don’t scream like that except if you want everyone to know that you’re a slut darling.

- Joo, please…

- Please what ? Use your words.

- Please, just fuck me, please, I need you…

- Much better, good girl.”

It was the second time he gave you this nickname, you were probably never going to get used to the way it made your insides swirl. And especially not when Jooyeon pushed his cock inside of you at the same time, forcing you to bite down on his pillow to quiet down your noises. His iron grip on your waist only added to the mess in between your thighs, and the way he was panting and moaning with each one of his powerful thrust didn’t help to calm you down either.

“- Shit… You’re taking me so good baby, it’s like you were made for me. Prettiest ass I’ve ever seen.”

He punctuated his sentence by another slap to your cheeks, bringing tears to your eyes and making you clench around him again. You were so fucked out at this point that the only thing going through your mind was Jooyeon and the way he was smoothly aiming for your sweet spot with each one of his thrust, the filthy sound of his skin slapping against yours pushing you closer to the edge.

“- Harder, please…

- You want it harder ?”

And he did pounded into you harder, your voice cracking as you screamed his name louder than you thought yourself capable of.

“- Like this darling ?”

His pace picked up again, one hand against the back of your neck to keep you in place and let him fuck you rough, his own moans mixing with your weak mewls.

“- Yes, yes… So good, Joo…”

He couldn’t even bring himself to feel proud about the way he ruined you, too lost himself in the way you were clenching around him for any coherent thought to pass by his brain anymore, only wanting to make you cum around him. And it wasn’t long before you whined louder, your body trembling in his hands as you closed your eyes shut, pleasure coursing through your veins like never before. Jooyeon tried to hold on as much as he could, slowly dragging his cock inside of you to prolong your orgasm but the way you got impossibly tighter around him was the death of him.

“- Fuck, I need to cum too baby. Where do you want it ?”

You turned your head to the side as best as you could to look at him, your hair sticking to your forehead due to how sweaty you were but the intensity of your gaze was enough for Jooyeon to feel his stomach clench.

“- In my mouth, gonna work my witch magic on you.

- Fuck, yeah, do whatever you want to me.”

The lazy smile on your lips as Jooyeon pulled out of you and you crawled to him turned him on beyond what he thought was possible. When you were close enough, you didn’t lose any more time and put his pretty cock in your mouth, licking him clean of your own essence. The moan he let out could only be described as sinful, tempting. And it was enough to spur you on to relax your throat enough to bury the rest of his length inside of your mouth. It only took one swipe of your tongue to the side of his cock, one glance at your pretty doe eyes looking up at him, at your mouth full of him for Jooyeon to cum too. And like the good girl you were for him, you swallowed it all, licking your lips clean of the last remains of his release while he stared at you, hypnotized.

“- God, you’re too good at this…”

You chuckled as you kissed him, and Jooyeon happily welcomed you, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“- Glad to know that you liked it.

- That’s an understatement. Do I need to show you how grateful I am ?”

You hit his shoulder playfully at the double meaning of his words, but you couldn’t stop the smile that took over your face. Jooyeon pushed away a strand of your messy hair, tucking it behind your ear. And suddenly, you could feel that the atmosphere had shifted. The next kiss you shared was much more intimate, much more telling than whatever word you could’ve told each other. You let yourself melt in his embrace, and when he locked his eyes with yours again, you weren’t surprised by the soft look on his face - even if it did make your heart skip a beat.

“- Go out on a date with me, Y/N. I don’t want this to be only a one-night stand.

- Me neither. I’ll go on a date with you.”

And Jooyeon’s gummy smile as you kissed his cheeks to seal your deal was really all you needed to warm your lonely nights. You had never been more glad to not have hung up some curtains on your windows.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

xdh taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@lala-----------lala

#eli: purple lights #xdinary heroes #xdh #xdinary heroes smut #xdh smut #xdinary heroes x reader #xdh x reader #xdinary heroes fic #xdh fic #lee jooyeon #jooyeon x reader #jooyeon smut #jooyeon fic #lee jooyeon x reader #lee jooyeon smut #lee jooyeon fic

94 notes · View notes

changetyre · 9 months ago

Text

Your Man II Daniel Ricciardo x Reader ⓈⒽ

SUMMARY: Your country-loving boyfriend loves to serenade you with his favorite songs more often than not...today is one of those days where he just goes the little extra mile.

WARNINGS: almost smut but mostly fluff

A/N: I'm having a block with writing smut but I was listening to my country playlist and this song came on which inspired me to write this. I also really enjoy writing stories along with songs so if you enjoyed please let me know cause I have a list of songs I've been wanting to write a story with.

You sat in your home back in Australia, having stayed back at the ranch this time you sat peacefully in the living room admiring the way the darkness began to cover the vast land Daniel had purchased with time.

The quiet times you had were few after falling in love with a man like Daniel Ricciardo who was all loud and energetic 100% of the time although you wouldn't complain since there was never a dull day around you.

It almost felt wrong sitting in silence for so long and being able to read more than a few pages of your book without being interrupted by a loud cry of attention or simply your man jumping on you for some cuddles.

Baby, lock the door and turn the lights down low And put some music on that's soft and slow Baby, we ain't got no place to go I hope you understand

You yelped in fear as the speaker system around the house blasted the song. You looked around your heart beating out of your chest trying to figure out what was going on.

I've been thinking 'bout this all day long Never felt a feeling quite this strong

You placed a hand to your chest in relief as you saw your boyfriend walk through the front door singing along, a proud smirk on his face as he approached you.

You simply began laughing too used to your boyfriend's antics and serenades and despite knowing he should've been back in a few days it didn't surprise you that he found a way to get back to you earlier.

Daniel approached you on the couch leaning his body over you as he sang the next words.

I can't believe how much it turns me on Just to be your man

Your smile was wider than ever, a common occurrence around him as he closed the gap locking his lips with yours.

There's no hurry, don't you worry We can take our time

Daniel missed signing the last 2 lines but after picking you up in his arms, resting his hands on your ass while you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist he didn't dare to miss the next.

Come a little closer, let's go over What I had in mind

"Ooo and what was that?" You smiled down at your boyfriend brushing your nose with his.

Baby, lock the door and turn the lights down low And put some music on that's soft and slow

He answered along with the song making you laugh again as he carried you towards your room.

Baby, we ain't got no place to go I hope you understand

He wiggled his eyebrows with the last few lines as you bit your lip in excitement. Happiness radiated off you both.

You arrived in your bedroom, the music still clear as ever as your boyfriend had done an incredible job at putting a speaker in every single room in this house, music being a huge part of his personality.

He laid you down on your bed as he hovered over you.

I've been thinking 'bout this all day long Never felt a feeling quite this strong

He kissed your neck lovingly.

I can't believe how much it turns me on Just to be your man

He sang this time more quietly to your ear, making you whine in anticipation as the familiar tingles spread across your entire body.

He kissed you again this time more deeply as he let his hands roam your body. Although they came to cup your face.

Ain't nobody ever love nobody The way that I love you We're alone now You don't know how long I've wanted to

His smile was as bright as yours.

"I love you." You whispered to him letting him sing to you.

Lock the door and turn the lights down low And put some music on that's soft and slow Baby, we ain't got no place to go I hope you understand

He took your (his) shirt off you gently as he continued singing, but missed a few words as he began kissing down your chest, leaving a trail down your body. He sat up quickly stripping his own shirt off himself and letting you admire his body.

I've been thinking 'bout this all day long Never felt a feeling that was quite this strong I can't believe how much it turns me on Just to be your man

He was able to sing along as he stripped his jeans off, followed by his boxers. You were so glad you'd worn nothing under your pajama shorts today as he was able to simply move them to the side and align himself with you.

I can't believe how much it turns me on Just to be your man

He finished singing just as he pushed into you. Ecstasy.

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #changetyre #f1 one shot #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1fic #smut #f1 smut #dr3 #dr3 x reader

355 notes · View notes

callofdudes · 1 year ago

Note

Once again gracing the feed, cause the people deserve it so so much. Being best friends with Alejandro and Rudy headcanon please !!!

Thank you for gracing us with your presence @itsscromp 😌 always a pleasure to have you.

Being best friends with Alejandro & Rudy

Alejandro is generally a very touchy person. And if not touchy then very verbally aggressive in his affection. You are no exception to this. He's always right there, loud and proud of you. Encouraging you.

Rodolfo is much quieter. He keeps his hands to himself and gives you reassuring nods or occasional encouragement.

The two are like day and night and it was hard to get used to both of them each. But they complimented each other nicely.

Starting with Rudy, at first his mute expressions set you off a little. You were unnerved slightly as first by his silent, watching eyes. Always on you, always watching and yet you were unable to read him. You admit you might have been a tad scared of him at first.

Until he started to speak, loosening up around Alejandro when you were all together and it finally gave you the opportunity to crack into him and understand him some more.

Slowly Rudy became a little more expressive around you. His training always kicks in and sometimes he forgets to smile, or it's strained when he tries. But you know he means well and slowly that smile loosens and feels natural around you.

You make him smile.

Whenever going on beach outings Alejandro would much rather stay on the beach by the food and drinks. While Rodolfo is always in the water. He loves to surf and when you wanted to learn he immediately perked up in a way you hadn't seen before.

He is skilled on his board, and the first time you heard him really laugh was after attempting a trick and falling like a ragdoll into the wave.

Despite the laughter he was still very concerned for you but still.

You loved to play videogames with Rudy. Even if he had way more experience with videogames, and he'd been playing them longer. It was always fun.

And they both could make the most amazing food. Rudy always has a music playlist he puts on when him and Alejandro are cooking. Often Alejandro trying to push Rudy out of the way and get you out of the kitchen so he can cook for you two.

"Y/n- get out of my kitchen, estoy tratando de hacer que la comida, Te voy a dar una bofetada con esta espátula si no salir!" I'm trying to make you food, I'll slap you with this spatula if you don't get out! (Apologies if the translation is wrong.)

"Ok ok, I'm sorry oh mighty cooking one." You back out of the kitchen, chuckling. You know he doesn't mean any harm, he's just passionate.

"Rudy! Smash bros, with me while cooking king is doing his thing."

Rudy chuckles, leaving his speaker in the kitchen. "Fine, but don't expect to win."

"I will too win!!"

"No you won't."

"Yes... yes I will!"

"Not a chance."

"Rudy stop that!"

He chuckles and sits down, taking his controller.

He did in fact beat you. No surprise though.

Ale loves to cook for you both. He loved to cook for everyone but other than affection and words of affirmation, food is his love language. He absolutely loves showering you in delicious pounds of food. Making sure You're well fed every single time.

Both of them get pretty touch starved. Along with being proactive, they too are in the group of soldiers who happen to get carried away in their work far too often.

It has happened a few times where you've had to drag them away from their desks or get them out of the sun and make them take a break. Or they'll get so exhausted on their own they'll drag themselves to come find you.

Whenever Rudy gets to the point of needing emergency cuddles you better be prepared to never move from that spot again.

Rudy slipped into your office, noticing you were particularly busy. He could work around that. Instead of trying to grab your attention he pushed the chair back slightly. Getting down on his knees and leaning forward to wrap his arms around your waist, forehead on your knees. He closes his eyes, relaxing.

You smile softly, noticing his attempt to not disturb you. You run your hand over his scalp and through his hair. "Hey Rudy."

He hums in reply, not moving.

"I'm almost done and then we can go somewhere more comfy ok?"

Rudy hums again, nodding a little.

Ale in the same sense. But he's at least cuddly in a way that if you need to get up for the bathroom or vice versa then he will let you go. Rudy won't. So better be prepared.

They both care for you and incredible amount as well. Ale was always joyful around you but when you get hurt or kidnapped or anything he's afraid. Confidence going down and nerves working up as he scrambles to do everything he can. He manages to keep it together with Rudy until they get in and find you.

Rescuing you they finally can hug you tightly and hug you in absolute relief.

Rudy unlocked the door, opening it and rushing in, Ale following. Their eyes immediately locked onto your body at the back of the room tied to a chair.

"Querido Señor gracias - y/n!! ¡Estás bien!" Dear Lord thank you- y/n!! You are ok!

Alejandro rushes up to you, kneeling down. He tilted your head, cursing when he saw your wounds. Rudy came over and cut the ropes, gently bringing your arms down.

"There, just relax, we've got you."

"Rudy... Al..." you whispered, looking at them with droopy eyes, filling with relief.

"We're here y/n, we came as soon as we got word. We're getting you home ok?"

They are incredibly respectful when if you introduce them to your family. They trust you and invite you into their family that they invite you down to celebrate holidays with them like Day of the Dead and Christmas. Really any holiday, or special occasion they make sure you get an invitation, whether you can go or not.

"So... you set these up for loved ones??" Al nodded, showing you the ofrenda that they had made for you. "And for you, for anyone you know."

You reach in your jacket and pull out the photo you keep there over your heart, smiling seeing it. Walking over and putting the photo up. "I miss you..." you whisper, seeing the photo surrounded by the flowers and gently flickering candles.

Rudy and Al also having their photos set up of family and fallen close friends.

You were glad you were invited to join in this special celebration with them. It made you feel special and a part of them family in a new way.

Alejandro is very open about his background. Telling you how he grew up, about his family, crazy and funny stories growing up working hard in the military. He always gets a laugh out of you.

Rudy is a little more hush hush about it. While Alejandro doesn't tell you things about Rudy he knows Rudy wouldn't appreciate, it just makes him more of a mystery.

Alejandro teaches you self defense and loves to spar with you all the time. Intense training, casual, he loves it all.

Rudy teaches you how to use a giant police taser.

Rudy has many taser, all shapes and sizes, he teaches you to use them all.

"Are you sure this will actually work on the field??"

Rudy nods. "Of course it will. Just turn it on and-" The taser crackles as he jabs it. "Get them where it hurts. Stomach or below really does the trick."

"Rodolfo!" Alejandro chides him from across the room. Rudy just nods to you. "He knows I'm right."

It's a chaotic, loving relationship you have with them. They do everything to make you smile, happy, comfortable, and they are amazing role models of respect. (most of the time 🤭)

Let's be honest they were the rowdy ones when they were in the military in the younger years and nothing has changed. They aren't called Los Vaqueros for nothing y'know.

So they do become incredibly rowdy. Smart men but you are a little stunned when they are put in a room together they go dumb. They do some wild shit together and often end up dragging you into their antics.

Yes, yes Rudy plays pranks and no one is safe. But instead of pranks he calls them solutions. He rigged air horns in the barracks when the recruits felt like getting up slightly later so 5:30 on the dot they go off in every room. He always can hear it from far away and it's a joy.

He did it to you once. You were pissed at him but this time he managed a smile, playing it off like nothing and inviting you on his morning run around base before it started to really warm up.

Hiking buddies.

Like you can hike with all of them but these guys are the hiking guys. They both have a very good grasp on the nature around them, Alejandro knowing more about the wildlife when Rudy is way into all the plants, fungi, and what not.

Not only is it a beautiful hike in nature but it's also pretty nice to learn some stuff along the way.

Both of them tell dad jokes. It's a rule, they just do. Rudy started doing it a lot more when he realized Ghost also has dad jokes for you and then Al picked up on it and now you're aren't safe from anyone.

Dad jokes everywhere. Rudy's are a little more morbid and along Ghost's lines but Al just had really shitty ones that make you smile.

And there is probably so so so much more that I'm missing right now but I hope this suffices for now. Go out into the world and take a Vaquero with you.

🫱🏻🤠🤠

#call of duty #call of duty headcanons #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra headcanons #rodolfo parra #los vaqueros #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod headcanons

346 notes · View notes

dynamic-swap-au-archive · 6 months ago

Text

I'd like to offer gorillaz fans (and Potential gorillaz fans) another resource that I've spent over a year creating and perfecting.

The Gorillaz !

This playlist is, to the best of my ability, Every Single piece of gorillaz content that can be found on youtube in story order.

all of the music videos, all of the indents, all of the interviews, animations, radio shows, news specials, podcasts, audio books, tiktoks, Everything.

on top of that ! I made the decision to include select fan content! because Frankly the gorillaz fandom is unimaginably talented and creative. this includes Fully animating several music videos that were cancelled, but given to us in animatic form, original animations, animatics, and storyboards, fan visualizers and recreations of live visuals, even voice fan dubs for written material like the interviews and novels.

and more than that, with the (incredible) fan content that was available I've Also been able to flesh out the stories of each phase! a decision I made due to the plastic beach, the third album, never getting to finish the story officially (leading to the band breaking up and coming back 7 years later).

I'm so proud of what I've been able to do with it ! and even happier to share the picture I've been able to make as a whole :>

below the cut I'm going to include several other playlists that are based on this one, but made to be more digestible and less intimidating for newcomers ! as well as many other resources to fill in the gaps that this playlist can't ! (namely the written material)

thank you ! and I hope I can share something I love with all of you !

First is the simplest ! all of the music videos in order ! (plus a Few indents, because I can't help myself): [Link]

this obviously means that you lose out on quite a bit of context, as much of who the characters are as People and their relationships together are in the extra material (especially the shorts and interviews). BUT

this is the most Accessible, and also really convenient if you just want to vibe to the music. if you're not sure if you want to commit this kind of time to a cartoon band, consider checking this out! you may find yourself interested enough to learn more, or you may just have a good time and feel satisfied with what you've seen ! either way I'd be honored to have helped :>

Second, the Midpoint between these two extremes !: Phase 1-3 [Link] Phase 4-7 [Link]

these Include extra material like the shorts and animation, but Cuts Out some of the longer content like the podcasts and interviews! you can still get a pretty good idea about what happens in the story of each phase watching this, but it's not bogged down by videos that are hours long.

it'll give you a clearer picture of what's going on, include fun side content, while being less intimidating than the Full playlist. this is what I use to show my friends gorillaz !

alright, so you've got just the music videos and just the short stuff, now lets try just the Long stuff. all of the interviews, radio shows, podcasts, Etc: [Link]

maybe you've used my last playlists and now you'd like to listen to some of those long form videos you missed out on. maybe you just want to listen to these characters talk because it's Nice. either way, it's all here :> (I know, because I had to upload some of them myself)

Pirate Radio: [Link]

it's all here with One technical exception. pirate radio was the serial radio show for plastic beach/phase 3, that gave us insight into murdoc's frame of mind as a character. it Also used copywriten music. the reuploads on youtube cut the music out (likely because they wouldn't be available otherwise), while this google drive has the full unedited audio files if anyone would be interested!

this one may seem redundant, but I promise it isn't. All of the gorillaz albums in order: [Link]

this playlist (for the most part) doesn't Have any visuals, it's Only the music.

likewise, all of the music in the previous playlists are only those songs that Have visuals (official or fan made), which means not all of gorillaz's music is present! which is exactly what this is for :>

you have every album in order, filling in the gaps of what's been missed, As Well As special albums that are Associated with gorillaz, and gorillaz' guest appearances in other people's music !

now we're out of my playlists and into other resources :>

Lobotomy Pop: [Link]

this is a website that's worked for years to preserve and organize Every Single written interview gorillaz has ever done ! it's an invaluable resource and really just very cool.

it also categorizes several other things ! such as listing out all of the personal playlists the gorillaz members have put out over the years, or every profile that's ever been written for the characters ! it's very much so worth checking out as a fan.

Gorillaz Art Archive: [Link]

exactly what is says on the tin ! this is a google drive that's attempting to archive Every Single piece of official gorillaz art that was released from phase 1 in 2001, to phase 5 in 2018. it is Massive and it's such a joy to have access to

The Kong Files: [Link]

if you were wondering why the art archive stopped at 2018, this would be why ! the kong files has much the same goal, but instead picking up at phase 6 and continuing on Theoretically forever ! or at least it's kept up with all of phase 7

that said ! the kong files is attempting to document Everything relating to those phases. so all of the social media, all of the music videos, all of the written text, Everything !

I wouldn't try to Only use this for watching phase 6 and 7, but it's an Excellent resource for everything that could fall between the cracks

Rise of the Ogre on Archive dot Com: [Link]

rise of the ogre was an official novel released at the end of demon days (the second album/phase 2), that covered the entire history of the band up until that point! their backstories, how they met each other, what they'd gotten up to in the 10 years they'd known each other, and the shocking event that happened at the very end of the phase and the band's reaction to it. all leading in to plastic beach, (arguably) the Most story heavy phase of them all.

as I understand it, this novel has been out of print for a very long time and is quite expensive to buy second hand. so ! it's been scanned and uploaded here to the archive! there's actually several more scans available in the gorillaz art archive, but this is the most recent (having been uploaded just earlier this year).

Dawn of the Ogre: [Link]

dawn of the ogre is the fanmade sequel to rise of the ogre, attempting to fill in the gaps of what happened at the end of phase 3, the 7 year gap, and up to the (then) newest point of canon.

this is, of course, unofficial. so this is essentially fancy fanfiction. But it's extremely well done fanfiction that happens to be novel length, attempting to emulate the style of the original novel, and is fully illustrated. along with being available completely for free!

I'd definitely give it a shot, if you're the type of person who's already read rise of the ogre

the gorillaz wiki !: [Link]

I have no clue what the fandom thinks about it, but it was absolutely invaluable both in making my playlist, and becoming a fan at all. with all the work I've done my hope is that people won't need to go digging for themselves, but the Option is certainly always nice !

I'd Especially like to highlight this page [Link] which has transcriptions for all of the pirate radio show episodes !

I feel like there's a lot to find here :>

and of course, my own dynamic swap au archive! [Link]

if you've fallen in love with gorillaz and are desperate for more to sink your teeth into, then I couldn't recommend this enough !

keep in mind that these resources will continue updating ! as new music is created and new fan content is made! I'm keeping my eyes out on a fan project for a fully animated mv right now that I'm sure will make it to my playlists one day :>

#gorillaz #stuart pot #2d gorillaz #murdoc niccals #murdoc gorillaz #russel hobbs #russel gorillaz #noodle gorillaz #guide #it's a shame I Just missed demon day's anniversary #such is life

123 notes · View notes

kanerallels · 1 month ago

Text

In Saecula Saeculorum

My contribution for @inklings-challenge 2024! Content warning for death and injury

Playlist link (I HIGHLY recommend listening along I spent like four collective hours on this thing I'm super proud. I am, however, adding which songs are best listened to at which points. They will be the bold italicized captions at the beginning of different sections. All the songs mentioned can be found on the playlist! (also, when you finish Afraid Of Time, just listen to the rest of the playlist straight through. It should line up well enough!))

~Time~

When Stephen Reid was nineteen, he almost got hit by a truck while trying to cross the street. A young woman a few years older than him yanked him back onto the sidewalk as the massive garbage truck barreled past, seemingly unaware that it had almost caused his demise.

Stephen steadied his breathing, heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat, then turned to thank the young woman who’d saved him. His mother had drilled good manners into him from a young age, and she’d have scolded him soundly for wandering into the street without looking first, let alone not thanking the person who’d saved him.

But she’d already started moving down the sidewalk, shoulders hunched in her green jacket, her hair (the tips of which were dyed an electric blue) brushing her shoulders as she moved. She was hunched over her cupped hands, whispering to something she was holding, and Stephen frowned. Strange way to hold your phone.

But there were more pressing things on Stephen’s mind. Namely, the fact that the world was tearing itself apart.

When he was little, things were so simple. It wasn’t just that he was a kid—Stephen remembered things had been happy, peaceful. He remembered summers spent digging holes in his backyard with his friends and raking leaves in the autumn. His mother and father had been happy, and life had been good.

As he got older, he saw the little ways things weren’t so good. The strain his father’s job put on him, the leaner times. But his family was still happy.

And then he turned eighteen. And things got really bad. Countries baying for each other’s blood, corrupt leaders turning their backs and doing nothing to help. Every day, the news showed more horrors. Every day, things got worse, and war was on the way. And Stephen knew he couldn’t just sit by and watch. His mother had taught him manners, common sense, and how to be fierce when it was needed. And his father had taught him that if you could help, you did help, and to care even when it was hard.

So that was what Stephen planned to do. In every way possible.

He’d started out with volunteering as he started college classes. There were even more people living on the streets now than ever, and helping make meals at shelters was a step toward helping them.

But then things took an abrupt turn for the worse. And suddenly, they were at war. And Stephen found himself dropping out of school to enlist.

He was twenty when he saw his first dead body—a woman on the side of the road. Face pale, limbs at unnatural angles, blood still staining the front of her shirt. It was an image that didn’t leave his mind for a long, long time.

Two months later he killed someone for the first time. He tried not to remember that. But it wasn’t the last time. Every time he took a life, he found himself mourning, for what the world had come to, for the life that he’d ended.

Stephen may have known the reasons for what he was doing. But that didn’t make it hurt any less, or stop him from wondering if there was a better way he could help.

At twenty-two, he was shot in the line of duty.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been injured. But it was the first time it had been serious enough to warrant being sent to a hospital for a prolonged stay. And as it turned out, it was serious enough that he was discharged from the army. The bullet had shattered bones in his leg, leaving him with a serious limp and pain that never fully went away.

It was strange. One minute he was fighting for his life, the next he was home. Like nothing had changed, like he was supposed to pick up where he left off. Stephen found himself adrift, unsure of his next step. He went back to school, but his old major didn’t seem to fit anymore. Nothing did.

He was twenty-two and a half when one of his classmates dragged him to their local church. Howard was stubborn and usually said exactly what was on his mind, without thought toward how he’d affect others. It was an odd combination of refreshing and very irritating.

And yet, in that sanctuary, Stephen had never seen Howard light up the way he did when the singing started. And listening to the words, he started to understand why.

He’d gone to church growing up, and it had been fine. But this was different. This was something beautiful rediscovered, and he cherished it. Soaked in every word spoken from the front. It was like water after years in the desert, healing after pain for so long. It brought peace he hadn’t known could exist.

Stephen was twenty-three when he changed his major. Not to a pastor, though Howard joked that he might as well, with all the Bible reading and questions. But to a counselor. Someone who could guide others through what he’d gone through, and worse. Someone who could help.

It was a refreshing of his original purpose, a rewriting of his story. It was the right thing to do, and that was all he’d ever wanted.

When he was twenty-seven, he started on an internship. And that was where he met Marian.

She was an astrophysicist, and while Stephen admittedly didn’t understand a lot of what she did, he liked to listen to her talk about it anyway. He liked her smile, too, and her warm brown eyes that lit up like gold in the sunlight. They both loved music, and swapped favorite songs every time they saw each other. She loaned him her favorite book, and Stephen read it eagerly, looking for what she loved in every line.

It took him a while to gather the courage to ask Marian out. Howard—now graduated, running his own construction company, and happily engaged—teased him relentlessly about it. “She likes you, you clearly like her,” the young man would tell him. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m waiting for the right moment,” Stephen would respond, and Howard scoffed in response.

In the end, he didn’t ask her at the right moment. He simply asked her, one day when she was stopping by at his work to talk about the book she’d just finished, eyes bright with happiness. Her smile outshone the sun when she said yes.

One year and six months later, she said yes again when he went down on one knee on a date to one of the few functioning observatories left in the country. He would have given her every star in the sky if he could have, but Marian settled for a diamond ring and a small wedding at her brother’s farm. Stephen hadn’t known someone could hold this much joy within them without bursting.

Two years later, Stephen was thirty years old. And that was when things started to get strange.

~~~

~Prepping For Rescue~

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

She avoided his gaze as she strapped on her protective gear. While the technology they were using had come a long way since the beginning of its use, there were still dangers. Being pulled through time and space could cause serious injury or damage, and the cuffs she was locking into place would generate a field that could protect her from that. Strange, how they almost felt like shackles, weighing her down, when they were the only thing bringing her hope right now.

“You know I am,” she said. “We already tested it. We can go back now, not just forward. And if I have that chance—”

“You’re gonna take it. I know,” he said. “But we still don’t know everything about this. We don’t know how it could affect the timeline. You could start wars, cause innumerable deaths. You could prevent yourself from even being born.”

“I know the risks.” She finished with the cuffs and grabbed her jacket, pulling it on to hide the cuffs from sight. “I don’t care.”

He looked like he wanted to comment on that very much, but just sighed. “Okay. Do you have your location drone?”

“Her name is Penni,” she informed him, and he sighed again.

“It’s a robot. It doesn’t have a name.”

She couldn’t hold back a smile at the old argument. “She does now. And I have her here.” Slipping a hand into her pocket, she pulled out a flat, circular object about the size of her palm. The domed top flickered between different colors, trying to camouflage itself with its surroundings, and it zipped into the air, hovering right above her shoulder. She brushed a hand along Penni’s surface, taking a deep breath.

“Good. Keep her with you, and I’ll be able to bring you back,” he reminded her. “Otherwise…things could get ugly. Because this is all supposed to be theoretical.”

“Then I guess I’m a pioneer,” she said, mouth suddenly dry. Squaring her shoulders, she said, “Let’s do this thing.”

~~~

Exactly twenty-seven days before his thirty-first birthday, Stephen was on his way home from work. He stopped at a grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner—Marian was working later than usual, and he wanted to surprise her with a delicious home cooked meal when she got home.

When he stepped out of the store, a car drove by at top speed and shot him three times in the chest. Two other pedestrians were hit, but he was the only casualty.

Except he wasn’t.

He heard the car screech around the corner, and looked up in time to see the dark barrel of a gun pointing out a window—and then a girl slammed bodily into him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Glass from the store windows shattered upon the bullet’s impact, tinkling against the pavement. There were screams, and Stephen pushed himself into a sitting position with a groan, looking around as the car roared away.

Two other pedestrians lay on the ground—one hit in the shoulder, the other only grazed in the arm. Stephen automatically moved to help them, calling for someone to call the cops, his head spinning.

Because there had been a moment where he’d known, he’d been sure, that he was going to die. Not just fear. Utter confidence. He’d all but felt the bullets pass through his body.

But instead, a girl had saved his life.

The girl. Stephen glanced around—but there was no sign of her. And all he could remember, as he later recounted to the cops, then Marian, was a blur of green jacket and blue hair.

Something about the description itched at the back of his brain, but he wasn’t sure what. All he knew is that he was somehow, impossibly alive. And he was grateful for it.

Two days later they found out Marian was pregnant.

~~~

“It worked,” she gasped, stumbling away from the framework of the machine.

Her friend looked up, eyes widening. “It—it did? Are you okay?”

She nodded, then stumbled again, and he caught her by the arm, hauling her upward. “Whoa. Sit down, have something to drink. We should check you out—”

“I’m fine,” she said, waving away his worry. “It worked, Tad. He—he’s not dead. Is he? I can’t—I can’t think—”

Steering her into a chair, Tad said, “Disorientation is a common side effect after traveling. Let me look at the database—drink some water.”

Taking the water bottle he shoved into her hands before moving to the computer, she gulped down some of the contents, her head spinning. “Do you remember how it was before?” she asked. “You said that you might not—”

“I think being close to the temporal field distortion preserved my memory,” Tad said, typing rapidly. “It’s fascinating, and if we don’t get arrested for this, I’ll write a paper–oh.”

Her stomach dropped as his face fell. “What?”

“You…almost succeeded.” Reading from the screen, he said, “Stephen Reid, died age thirty-two, in the ‘65 train bombings.”

“What?” Rocketing out of her chair, she moved to his side, swaying a little. Tad put a hand out to steady her as she bent over the screen. “How?”

“Looks like he was injured, but didn’t let on because he was busy helping others to safety,” Tad read. Glancing at her, he said, “I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but—”

She was already moving toward the machine. “We have to go again.”

“What? I don’t think that’s a good idea. You already somehow created a temporal loop when you first went in. Who knows what—”

Spinning around, she said, “We can’t save him from being murdered just to let him die in a freak accident. It’s not—no. We’re fixing this.”

“And you don’t think this has anything to do with—”

Fixing him with a fierce glare, she said, “We’re going. Again.”

~~~

~The Typewriter Theme~

If that was the only incident, Stephen would have accepted it and moved on. He wasn’t dead, and that was something he was fiercely grateful for. His wife was pregnant, and instead of being dead he was there. For the moment when their little girl came into the world, and he held her close for the first time.

They named her Zara Grace Reid, and Stephen’s heart was full. For two long years, they had peace.

Then, when he was thirty-two, things started getting bad again. The governments were all fighting, and groups of dissenters were getting angry at, well, everyone, no matter who they claimed to hold responsible for everything going badly. Danger of terror threats grew more and more present.

The day after Zara’s birthday, Stephen was taking the train to a meeting across town. But when he got to the door, his ticket was missing. Racking his brains, Stephen vaguely remembered slipping it into his jacket pocket—and a girl bumping into him as they crossed paths in the station.

Strange. Who would steal a train ticket? He considered buying another one, but it was a nice day and he was in no hurry. He decided to walk.

Two blocks later the world exploded. Four trains, all across the city, blew up at once, killing hundreds in a deadly attack.

Stephen not only saw it when it happened, he felt it. In his chest, like he was on the train when it happened. But no sooner had the feeling come then it was gone and he was running toward the rubble, hoping desperately that he could pull someone, anyone out.

He missed his meeting and saved twelve lives that day. All the while wondering at the phantom pain in his side, but there was too much to do for him to care.

Hours later, he made it home after Marian, cleaned up, and only by the time he fell into bed did he wonder—did the girl who took my ticket know?

~~~

“SIX MONTHS?”

Pacing back and forth, she glared into space. “I only bought him six months? What does he do that makes these people want him dead so badly?”

“It’s pretty fishy,” he agreed, typing rapidly. “Okay, the records are a little messy, but I think I know the exact date. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine. Let’s go again.”

~~~

The thought didn’t really leave Stephen, as he racked his brain to remember what the girl looked like. He remembered dark hair with a splash of blue, and the girl had been holding something small. And those thoughts tugged at other memories—of a day almost twenty years ago, when someone had pulled him out of the way of a truck. Of the shooting before Zara was born.

He wasn’t able to really consider the idea, let alone voice it. Not until six months later, when there was a fire in his work building, and someone locked the door of his office, leaving him trapped inside while the flames grew and the smoke filled his lungs.

He’d been in tight spots before. He’d been trained, in the Army, not to panic, even when it was logical to do so. But as his oxygen seeped away and the door refused to budge, even as he bashed at it with a chair, Stephen found himself absolutely terrified.

No. No, this can’t be it. Images of Marian and Zara flickered through his head and he knew he had to fight, had to live at all costs. But if there was nothing he could do—

The door swung open, and someone pulled him forward.

~~~

~The Hornburg~

“I wonder what makes them choose the intervals they do,” Tad mused as he typed. “Is there someone else preventing them? Do we just do this for the rest of our lives? Are they experts or are they just trying everything and every year they can to kill him? Furthermore, what’s going to stop them from just going back to the same year and trying again—”

He stopped short when he saw her face. “Which…they definitely can’t do. Most likely. I think they can’t, anyway. It’s just that the science is so—I’m sorry. They haven’t done it yet, they probably won’t ever.”

“I hope not,” she said, checking her cuffs and scooping up Penni, who chirped a little greeting. “The last thing we need is more things to worry about.”

“Or to send you through more times.” His worry showed through the edges of his speech. “You don’t have to—”

“Let’s go again.”

“Okay.”

~~~

Stephen made it out of the fire and he could have cried with gratitude. The firefighters who arrived on scene seemed very startled to see him stumble out of the building, coughing—they said that the last man to come out had sworn up and down that there was no one else inside.

And they swore with equal fervor that they hadn’t sent anyone else in. They claimed that he must have made it out under his own steam somehow—adrenaline, maybe?

Stephen knew better.

“There are two options,” he told Marian when he explained everything to her later that day. Her brow was furrowed like it always was when she tried to solve a problem. “Either I have a literal guardian angel, or somehow the exact same person is traveling through time and space to save me.”

“I’m not sure which is more improbable,” Marian said slowly. They were sitting at the table, and her fingers twitched against the surface like she wished she had something to write on. “Bending time and space isn’t…unheard of, per se, but we’re years away from being able to achieve it under our own steam. And if we assume they’re from the future, they’d be moving into the past, which is, theoretically, even harder.”

“But then there’s the guardian angel idea,” Stephen said, grinning at her expression. “Which you think is scientifically impossible?”

She let out a long sigh. “I’ve learned not to count anything out when it comes to our faith. So…I don’t know.”

Reaching across the table, Stephen caught her hand and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll just have to pray that whatever this is keeps ending up at the right place at the right time.”

Their prayers were answered when, two years later, someone tried to shoot Stephen again. And again, he was pulled out of the way just in time.

~~~

“So,” Tad said, staring at the screen.

“Yup,” she said.

“A sibling, huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “Let’s do it again.”

~~~

It started happening more frequently. A near knifing in an alleyway, a car barreling toward him as he crossed the street. Every time, it was thwarted. Sometimes, he didn’t even see it coming—the coffee knocked out of his hands that hissed alarmingly on contact with the concrete, leaving it pitted and worn, for instance.

But every time, the attackers failed. And eventually, Stephen started to wonder if they should stop prevention and start focusing on the attackers. The only problem? He had no idea how to do that.

So he decided to reach out to the person who did.

~~~

“How. Did he do that?” Tad asked, staring at the screen.

“He must have realized what we’re doing, somehow,” she whispered. “I mean, he’s married to an astrophysicist, he has to have picked something up.”

Shaking his head, Tad said, “Okay, then how do we respond?”

She stared at the screen for a moment longer, thinking as she reread the lines on the screen. More specifically, the email Tad had found during his usual archive wide search for anything pertaining to Stephen Reid.

He’d sent it to himself, apparently hoping that it would be good enough. And it had been.

To whoever is helping me:

Thank you. I don’t know who you are or if you’ll receive this, but I have faith it’ll end up in the right hands.

Clearly someone wants me dead, for whatever reason. Instead of preventing it, why don’t we get rid of the attackers? Let me know how and when to help.

Stephen.

“What do we do?” Tad asked quietly

She studied it for a moment longer, then said, “We answer. I can slip him a message on my next trip. Have you located who it is and why yet?”

“I think so.” Opening a new screen, Tad tapped on the article he pulled up. “There’s a stabbing, two years from the next attempt, in an alley nearby his route to work. Exactly the kind of thing he’d get involved in and try to stop, right?”

Nodding slowly, she said, “Right. But why this person?”

“No idea. They’re dead in every timeline so far. They must do something that the attackers aren’t a fan of.”

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Then let’s hope we’re not actually on their side.”

~~~

~FREEPORT~

For a while, Stephen didn’t think his message had worked. Things were peaceful—no attacks, no poisonings. Marian found out she was pregnant again, and nine months somehow managed to fly and drag by until she gave birth to a healthy baby boy, who they named Isaiah.

And then three months after that, it happened again.

At exactly the right moment, he was pushed forward, just in time to avoid a bunch of tiles crashing to the ground from the roof. When he caught his balance and his breath, there was no one there. But when Stephen put his hands in his jacket pocket as he started onward again, he found a slip of paper.

10/11/71. Four in the afternoon on your way home from work. Watch the alleyway off Racine. Be ready.

This was it. This was the answer. A little under a year in future, he’d be able to fix this, for good. Whatever this was.

So he kept the paper tucked in his pocket until it grew worn, the folds flimsy. He kept going with life—worked and went to church and looked after his wife and children. He avoided two more attacks in that time, and every time, his mysterious helper was there just in time, only to disappear before he could get a good look at her.

Finally, the day came. Stephen usually carried a knife, out of habit, and this time he made sure he had it, just in case. The day passed in a haze of business as he worked with patients and did paperwork and wondered what exactly was going to happen.

And then work was over. It was 3:45, and he was walking home from work, hands tucked in his pockets, trying to pretend like his heart wasn’t thundering in his chest.

3:47. He passed the cart that sold churros. Oftentimes he stopped to buy one and chat with the owner, but for now Stephen just gave her a little wave and kept moving, pace brisk.

3:50. A couple of kids zipped by on bikes, laughing.

3:51. He heard footsteps behind him, and his heart lurched. Be ready, Stephen.

3:55. The sidewalk came to an end at an intersection, and he turned onto the sidewalk along Racine.

3:58. He wove through a group of teenagers and sped up a little. He could see the opening for the alleyway.

3:59. Heart pounding in his throat, Stephen came to a stop outside the alleyway.

4:00.

For a heartbeat, there was nothing. And then he heard a muffled scream from the alleyway.

Instinctively, Stephen started forward, concern rippling through him. It had been the voice of a girl—young, too young. Most likely not his helper, but that didn’t lower his concern.

He made it two steps forward before he was grabbed from behind. Stephen vaguely registered the cold press of steel against his throat for a heartbeat before he moved, driving an elbow backward into his attacker’s gut.

There was a grunt—a man’s voice, judging by the baritone—but the grip didn’t loosen. Until Stephen snapped his head backward , connecting solidly with the other man’s nose.

There was a crunch and a howl of pain, and Stephen felt the knife at his throat break skin—

And then the grip was gone, and he was stumbling forward, hand pressed against the shallow cut on his neck. Spinning around, Stephen registered a man in all black taking a swing at a young woman—green jacket, hair dyed blue at the tips, holding a weapon he didn’t recognize. What looked like a tiny flying saucer hovered next to her shoulder.

“Help her!” she shouted, dodging her opponent’s blow with ease.

For a moment, Stephen didn’t know what she meant. And then he remembered the scream from the alleyway, and turned. Pulling his knife from his pocket, he moved.

There were two men, both trying to subdue a struggling, terrified girl. One had a hand over her mouth, and the other held a wickedly curved knife. Stephen took a moment to wonder why these people insisted on using knives, and then he was on top of them.

Clearly, either of the men were expecting him. The one holding the blade went flying into the wall with a cry of pain, clutching his shoulder where Stephen’s knife had gone deep, tearing through muscle.

The second tried to reel backward, avoiding Stephen as he clutched for his own weapon while clinging to his victim. But Stephen smashed his fist into the man’s face, catching hold of the girl’s arm and pulling her away at the same time, using the man’s momentum as he fell to tear her free.

He took a minute to glance at her—no sign of injuries, just bright red hair and freckles and shocked tears starting to escape—and then turned to face his opponents again.

Only to find them gone, a trace of blood on the ground the only sign that they’d been there in the first place.

What? Baffled, Stephen turned in a full circle, then glanced at the girl. “Are you okay?” he asked, and she nodded shakily. “Okay. Wait here a minute. Call if you need me.”

Moving quickly, he headed back to the mouth of the alleyway, to see if there was any sign of his mysterious helper, or her opponent. But there was nothing. Just the now oddly dusty sidewalk, passersby who seemed to have no idea what had happened, and—

A scrap of white paper. Stephen bent and picked it up, unfolding it, and read the now familiar lopsided script inside.

She’s safe. You both are, unless you see me again. Look after her. Don’t worry about the other attackers.

There was no signature, although Stephen hadn’t expected one. A wave of relief swept over him, and he breathed out a prayer of thanks.

He was safe. They were both safe. It was done.

~~~

~Afraid Of Time~

“It’s not done,” she said.

“What?” Tad stared at her, baffled. “How can it not be done? We saved the victims, including a victim we didn’t even know we had until now, helped catch time traveling murderers, and hopefully we’re not even getting arrested for using government property without permission. Your mom might not even yell at us. How is this not a win—”

He stopped short, looking at her. As she looked at the computer file in front of her, wishing the words were different.

Stephen Reid. Died 10/12/83

“Zee.” Tad’s voice was soft. “You can’t stop everything.”

“That’s kind of the point of this whole time travel thing, Tad. I can.” Taking a deep breath, she said, “I’m stopping this. I’m going in again.”

~~~

Stephen had always loved autumns. The crisp, cool air, the knowledge of the approaching season that heralded celebrations and wonder and joy and family time. How could he do anything but love it?

Sure, he’d almost died at this time of year a few times, but with his life, when was that not true?

It had been 12 years since the last incident. He’d helped the girl—Jenny, a teenager who’d been alone and afraid and had no idea why those men had attacked her—to the hospital to get checked out. They repeated the same impossible story to the police over and over until they finally got tired of asking and declared the case closed. Stephen was fine with it. He’d been told they were safe, and he believed that.

Years had passed. Jenny became all but a member of the family, and he and Marian encouraged her and supported as she chose a career path and moved forward with her life. Stephen still wasn’t sure what the men wanted with her, but it didn’t matter. Her purpose was her own to discover.

His other two children were far too close to grown up for his taste, as well. Isaiah was thirteen, flirting with girls, and discovering a love for basketball paralleled only by his love for mischief. And Zara was in college, pursuing a degree in physics.

He held great hope and joy for both of them, that they would grow up to change the world in whatever small or big ways the Lord had planned for them. If Stephen was being honest, he held a very specific theory for one of them, as time passed and the similarity grew stronger and stronger.

And that was why, on his walk home from work, he wasn’t overly surprised to see a familiar figure at his bus stop.

She was sitting on the bench, knees pulled up against her chest. Her hair, dark like her mother’s where it wasn’t blue, covered her face in a curtain, and the tiny flying saucer hovered at her shoulder again. As Stephen drew closer, he heard it letting out soft little chirps, like it was trying to comfort her.

Sitting next to her with a grunt, Stephen set down his bag and leaned back. Glancing at her, he said, “Nice day, isn’t it?”

Her chin jerked up a little, like she was surprised to hear his voice, then lowered again. Stephen watched her for a moment, debating whether or not he should speak again, when she did, voice low and cautious.

“If you could know the day that you died, would you want to?”

Stephen considered for a moment, tapping a finger against his knee. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “My instinct would be no—why live in dread of something like that? But I can’t say I would be curious.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” the girl agreed, voice still quiet. “What if…what if you could stop it? If someone just told you the right things?”

A heavy feeling began to settle over Stepehn’s chest. “Can you?” he asked, abandoning all pretense.

She let out a choked sob, and Stephen felt a stab of sadness. “I tried,” she choked out. “I tried again and again, but no matter what I do—”

“It’s okay,” Stephen told her, gently reaching out to touch her shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

Letting her feet drop down, the girl scrubbed a hand across her face angrily. “You don’t understand.”

“I think I might,” Stephen said, his voice very soft.

She shook her head. “No, you don’t. For you, it’s been another twenty years, but for me…I thought I’d get to go home and—” she stopped short, staring across the street, eyes red.

“And I’d be there?”

She swiveled to face him, eyes going wide. “What—how did you—”

“You’re my daughter, Zara. How could I not recognize you?”

Her face crumpled, and Stephen slid across the bench to pull her into a hug as she burst into tears. She pressed her face against his shoulder and he ran his hand over her hair, the way he used to when she was a little girl.

Closing his eyes against tears of his, he whispered, “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she mumbled, voice muffled by his shirt. “I was supposed to get you back.”

“You did,” Stephen pointed out. “Just not for as long as you wanted. But you were the one who saved me, so many times. You’re the reason I got to watch you and Isaiah grow up, and I will never stop being grateful for that. You’re the reason Jenny’s alive.”

“It’s not enough,” she whispered. “This shouldn’t be the last time I see you.”

Stephen almost laughed, tears springing to his eyes. “It won’t be. If there’s one thing I hope your mother and I taught you, it’s that.”

Pressing a kiss against the top of her head, he pulled back a little, taking a look at her. Zara had his wife’s beauty and dark wavy hair, and he wondered when she would dye the tips blue. Her eyes were the same warm brown as Marian’s—oh, Marian—and right now, they were wet with tears.

“I don’t want to let you go,” she said, voice shaking.

“I know,” Stephen said, heart aching. All he wanted was to tell his daughter that it was going to be okay, that he was going to be able to come home. But it was becoming increasingly clear that he couldn’t make that promise.

Instead, he asked, “Tell me about what you do next. Tell me everything.”

So they sat on the bench, and Zara told him about her work and her best friend Tad—whom Stephen had already met, but the two hadn’t grown close yet—and how Isaiah was coaching at a local high school and Marian was still working, still looking out for Jenny, still going to church every day. “She still loves you so much,” Zara told him. “Even when I never knew you, she’d tell me about you and how important you were to her. I—I thought I could bring you home to her.”

“You did,” Stephen pointed out, remembering all the days he’d almost died, and all the days his daughter had saved his life. His daughter.

Eventually, the bus came around the corner, and the little flying saucer at Zara’s shoulder let out a chirp. Zara’s eyes widened, and she glanced up. “I—”

“You have to go,” Stephen guessed.

“I don’t want to,” she whispered.

“I know. But if this is it, I don’t want you to have to watch it.”

Shaking her head, Zara said, “You shouldn’t have to be alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Stephen told her, and he meant it. Though his heart was heavy with grief, it wasn’t for him. And he knew—he was sure of it—that his family would be alright. They were strong enough to look after each other without him.

Getting to his feet, he waited until Zara did the same, then pulled her into a fierce hug. “I love you,” he told her. “And I’m proud of you. You and Isaiah, you’re the best thing I’ve ever done.”

She was openly crying now, but nodded, holding him tightly for another minute. “I love you, too,” she said.

And then stepped back and the bus was there. Stephen took one last look at her, taking in every detail. At last, he turned and boarded the bus, taking a seat in the back.

It lurched into motion, and Stephen glanced out the window at the now empty bus stop. I’ll see you again, he thought. And he knew, in his heart, it was true.

Pulling out his phone, he opened up his text messages and began one to Marian.

I love you, Mari. I love the life we’ve lived together for the past twenty years. Thank you for being the best wife and friend I could have ever asked for.

Looking up, Stephen took one last look around him, and wondered what would come next. He knew more than most sitting on the bus did, and yet found himself frightened. And yet, at the same time, excited.

Whatever else happened, he was ready, with no regrets.

He sent the text.

~~~

Zara was still crying when she stumbled back into her own time, bones aching fiercely. Most trips, she’d taken a break in between, but for the past five or so, she’d gone in without stopping, time after time. Trying desperately to stop what she knew was going to happen.

It hadn’t worked.

But somehow, despite the tears and the ache in her heart, it was okay.

“Zara?”

Tad had moved to stand in front of her, face twisted with concern. “Are you okay? Or—are you hurt?”

Shaking her head, Zara took a shaking breath. “I’m okay,” she said, and he gave her an unconvinced look. “Fine, I’m not hurt. And I…” she trailed off.

“It didn’t work,” Tad said quietly. “Zee, I know you want to do this, but so many trips in a row are hurting you. And if this is so hard to stop—”

“I know,” Zara said, taking a deep breath. “It’s okay. I’m…I’m not going in again.”

Tad’s eyes widened. “Really? I—I didn’t expect that to work.”

“It didn’t,” Zara said, and couldn’t hold back a laugh at his expression. “I…I talked to my dad. It’s okay.”

“You’re sure?” Tad said slowly. “Because five minutes ago you were very ready to keep doing this or die trying.”

Nodding, Zara swiped a hand over her face, ridding herself of the last traces of tears. “I am. I got to say goodbye, and…he’s right. I’m gonna see him again. Someday.”

Resting a gentle, if slightly awkward, hand on her shoulder, Tad nodded. “I’m glad. He’d be proud of you, Zee.”

“Thanks, Tad.” Zara took a deep breath. It was time to stop living in the past, and start looking at the new, and slightly changed present she had waiting for her.

And when the time came to see her father again, she would greet him with joy and the knowledge that she’d lived her life to the fullest, like he had. Until then, all she could do was take the first step toward doing that.

#inklingschallenge #team tolkien #inklings challenge #genre: time travel #theme: counsel #theme: comfort #story: complete #this actually turned out so much better than i thought it would #there were. some moments #but i like the vibes #also now i'm obsessed with two of these ocs and need to feature them in more content #fun fact this could and probably does exist in the same universe as my kyvis stories #which is a HILARIOUS concept that i shall have to explore more #anyway i digress #i'd apologize for how overboard i went with the playlist BUT #a) you can just ignore it if you want to #and b) it's a masterpiece and i love it so much #it's for the VIBES GUYS #and i haven't spent this long waiting to find a character that fits how do i say goodbye only to not share when i do find one #MOVING ON #writing stories is a kind of magic too

49 notes · View notes

stinkysam · 4 months ago

Text

Serge “Frenchie” - Same difference ?

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : “I have a silly little thought about fluff with a male reader where Frenchie and him bond because Frenchie is french(from France) and reader is French-canadian(from Quebec)” - anon

Reader : male (he/you)

A/N : I'm not from Québec so I tried to find words/sentences the reader could use to make it more obvious where the reader is from but it's hard. I can't Google translate it 😔 I hope it's not too much tho but it was fun looking for sayings and shit // FYI the word Nice is also the name of a big city in France. Also I hope my pareil/paris joke lands ._.

You were presented to the rest of the boys shortly after they regained their anti-supes activity.

Butcher never questioned where you came from, so they all thought you were from around here as well, that is, until you got to Frenchie.

You awkwardly sat there on the couch in front of the TV next to Kimiko. Hughie, M.M, Butcher and Annie were gone.

Only you, Kimiko, Frenchie and 3 or 4 dudes hiding some white powder in various objects to export them somewhere were there.

You turned your head back, bored, watching what Frenchie was doing.

You listened closely and you could hear some music playing in French. Was it Koba laD you could hear ?

That made you wonder. Was it a random French song in his playlist ? Was he French ? Or was it both ? The way he spoke was weird too, he had like a small accent… Could he be French ?

You stood up, taking in your surroundings, stopping to let a guy pass, before walking to Frenchie slowly and looking at what his hands were working on. It looked like a bomb but the timer kept doing whatever it wanted.

“Rah, putain, cette merde veut pas marcher !” He complained, throwing his tools on the table in frustration.

You looked at him with a surprised expression, your staring grabbing his attention.

“Quoi ?” He asked, a hint of annoyance still clear in his voice.

“Criss, c'pour ça ‘Frenchie’ ?” You asked, now understanding such a name. He listens to French music and has an accent because he is French.

He looked at you, confused. What do you mean ‘that's why’, of cou- wait, did you just speak French ?

He looked at you, studying you. ‘Criss’ ?

“Why else ?” He replied, hands on his hips, his French accent sounding more noticeable to you suddenly.

“After ‘Mother's Milk’ did you really expect me to question your name ?” You crossed your arms and tilted your head.

“Fair enough, mon ami.” He chuckled. “T’es d'où ?” He asked, his right hip against the desk he was working on.

“Québec. Toi ?”

“Aah.” He nodded slowly, understanding better, scratching his chin before speaking proudly, smiling. “Marseille.”

“Nice.”

“No, no,” He started, making you frown in confusion. “Marseille.” He repeated. “Not Nice. Pas pareil.” He said, shaking his head, seemingly proud of his joke.

You stared at him for a second and spoke.

“Pas Paris ?” You replied, making him frown in confusion, quietly repeating your words before finally understanding your joke.

“Wow, it's… even worse than mine.” He said, slightly amused. His wasn't funny but yours ? He shook his head and grimaced. Down right bad.

“You go low, I go lower ?” You tried, eyes squinted, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I fear that sometimes it's better not to, mon ami. To keep your uh, dignité or whatever.”

“Mh.” You nodded, acting as if you were thinking about it before continuing. “Non. J’préfère going lower, tsé.”

“So the unfunny jokes are a deliberate choice, huh ?” He asked, turning back toward the desk, grabbing a few things and you hummed.

“Mais chu bon public, sinon.” You quickly said as if to reassure him you had a regular humor. “Tu fais-tu une bombe ? C'quoi qui marde ?”

“Je sais pas, ça me casse les couilles.” He replied, going back to his original annoyed mood.

“Can I help ?”

“You know how to make a bomb ? Or program a timer ?”

You shook your head ‘no’ and Frenchie seemed to think for a moment before nodding to himself and waving you to come closer.

“I'll teach you.”

Since that day, you, Frenchie and Kimiko were often found together, if not always.

You both liked learning things. You, how to use a weapon and reload it accordingly. Him, how to speak French Québécois.

He learned Kimiko's sign language that only her and her brother spoke, so there was no way he wouldn't want to learn yours either, even if it was close to his.

You’d teach him sayings and words. He loves hearing you swear, he finds it so funny. Though he makes sure to not laugh at you because he doesn't want your wrath directed toward him.

While you can lose your words in English and stammer, you never seem to lose them in Québécois.

Sometimes he doesn't understand you because you're speaking too fast or using sayings he hasn't learned yet. He just nods as if he's gotten it and looks at Kimiko, who has even less of an idea of what you're saying.

He has trouble speaking French Québécois because it's the same as French but with different rules and sayings and he struggles getting rid of the French rules he's learned. It sounds the same so why is it so different ?

Can't say the same about swear words. He knows them and will use them accordingly.

Everyone hates when you two are not speaking English during important discussions.

“What is he saying ?” Annie asked quietly, looking at you.

The French she learned at school was way too rusty to understand anything, like everyone else's, even though they got a few words, but understanding what you were saying ? Beyond impossible. Your accent was too strong.

“Speak slowly.” Said M.M, hoping it'll be easier. But instead of translating or repeating slowly, you continued.

“Câlisse ! On r’trouve le head-popper là pis on lui pop sa tête à ce mangeux de marde d’Homelander, pis un coup parti ; sa blonde.”

Butcher turned to Frenchie to translate but instead he spoke in French too.

“Mais tu sais où le trouver ?” He asked, not caring that the others didn't understand. Ignoring Butcher's annoyance.

“Super-powered children's orphanage ?” You replied simply.

“Qu'est-ce qui te fait penser qu'il vient de là ?”

“Nothing. Mais c't'un start.” You said as if it was obvious.

“Oi, will one of you stop blabbering nonsense and speak English ?” Butcher intervened, his patience wearing thin, holding his hand between you and Frenchie as if to physically stop you from speaking more.

“He says… we can try finding the head-popper to kill Homelander and Stormfront by checking the super-powered children's orphanage.” Frenchie finally said.

“And what makes him think they're from there ?” Butcher asked.

“As I said, it's a start. A possibility.” You replied, shrugging. “Don't know why they popped Rayner’s head, but they can't be on Homelander’s side.” You added.

“And why not, eh ?” Butcher frowned, turning toward you a bit more, wanting to know your logic.

“Because our head would've popped already, no ?” Frenchie answered, getting what you were thinking.

Everyone stayed silent, maybe you two had a point. But whoever it was who popped Rayner’s head couldn't be on the ‘good’ side either or else, they wouldn't have done it.

You had half a plan found, only the other half was needed.

Traduction - Translation :

Rah, putain, cette merde veut pas marcher. - Rah, fuck, this shit refuses to work.

C'pour ça ‘Frenchie’ ? - That's why ‘Frenchie’ ?

T'es d'où ? - Where are you from ?

Toi ? - You ?

Pas pareil. - Not the same.

Pas Paris. - Not Paris.

Dignité. - Dignity.

Non. J’préfère going lower, tsé. - No, I prefer going lower, you know.

Mais chu bon public, sinon. - But I’m easy to please, though.

Tu fais-tu une bombe ? C'quoi qui marde ? - Are you making a bomb ? What's not working ?

Je sais pas, ça me casse les couilles. - I don't know, it pisses me off.

Câlisse ! On r’trouve le head-popper là pis on lui pop sa tête à ce mangeux de marde d’Homelander, pis un coup parti ; sa blonde. - Fuck ! We find the head-popper then we pop this shit-eater Homelander’s head and his girl’s too while we're at it.

Qu'est-ce qui te fait penser qu'il vient de là ? - What makes you think he comes from there ?

Mais c't'un start. - But it's a start.

#male reader #m!reader #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys x male reader #the boys tv #frenchie #frenchie imagine #frenchie x male reader #frenchie the boys

44 notes · View notes

likeadevils · 2 years ago

Text

Speak Now Timeline

This is a very long post that puts all the songs on Speak Now in order of Taylor creating them. I’ve also added a few other songs she wrote while writing Speak Now and quotes from Taylor and her collaborators talking about her process.

If you don't want to read all that, check out this playlist of the album in order or this playlist of her entire discography.

Due to a surprising amount of digital decay and her life not being highly documented yet, exact dates are bit harder to come by then they are with following albums, but you can still find a few! I’ve added this color coded scale of how sure I am of the date:

Confirmed: There is some type of official source for the date

Inferring: Nobody has officially said “This is when we wrote it,” but everything points to that date

Speculation: This date is based off pure vibes and guesswork and is highly likely to change.

Unknown: All that is known is the year (from the US Copyright Offices)

More notes: I will probably be editing it as information about vault songs and new details about old songs get come out, so it probably won’t be finished until July, so check back in with this post and/or follow me if you want updates. Most tweet dates come from crawling through the wayback machine, but if you want further sourcing, feel free me an ask/dm.

Without further ado...

Sparks Fly: Late 2006 (Inferring)

Taylor opened up for Jake Owen on October 31, 2006 In Portland, Oregon (the secret message for the song), and wrote Sparks Fly about the experience shortly after. I’ve seen a few second hand sources say she wrote it on the airplane ride back to Nashville later that same night, but I can’t find Taylor herself saying that, so it might just be an old fandom legend, or the source has been lost to digital decay, or I just haven’t looked hard enough. She first performs the song in May 29, 2007.

Haunted: 2009 (Unknown)

Taylor: "Haunted" is about the moment that you realize the person you're in love with is drifting and fading fast. And you don't know what to do, but in that period of time, in that phase of love, where it's fading out, time moves so slowly. Everything hinges on what that last text message said, and you're realizing that he's kind of falling out of love. That's a really heartbreaking and tragic thing to go through, because the whole time you're trying to tell yourself it's not happening. I went through this, and I ended up waking up in the middle of the night and writing this song about it.

February 17, 2009: Tweets "It's 3:58 am in London.. And I accidentally fell asleep at 6:30 pm, so now I'm wide awake and have no idea what to do. Write a song?"

It’s possible that this was what Taylor was referring to when she said she “ended up waking up in the middle of the night and writing [Haunted]”, but it’s also very possible that Taylor didn’t write a song on February 17, and waking up in the middle of the night and writing a song is not a rare occurrence in Taylor’s life, so one tweet doesn’t really prove anything.

March 13, 2009: Tweets "A day off in Sydney. Drove two hours out of the city and spent the day on the beach. Wrote a chorus you'll hear on the next record. :)"

Pure speculation, but I think she was working on Mr. Perfectly Fine. It was created in 2009, and in my opinion, of the possible songs it has the most notable chorus.

March 19, 2009: Posts on Myspace “I’m wiped out. I’ve been in the studio all day ( I know, I know.. We JUST put out a new album. I think I have a problem, I cannot stop writing songs.) It’s so much fun knowing that you can take your time, because you have like a year and a half to make something you’re really proud of. I love recording a few songs, waiting a few months, recording a few more.. Instead of devoting a few weeks to “record the album” and then it’s just done. I like dragging it out, that way you can be meticulous about every detail. Daydream about different ways to put the songs together, and then take them apart. I’m pretty obsessed with the whole process. So needless to say, it was good to be back in the studio with my redheaded producer who I missed terribly.”

If This Was A Movie: April 2009 (Inferring)

Taylor has literally never talked about this song, but April would be six months after and Joe Jonas broke up in late September/early October 2008.

April 24, 2009: Taylor plays in Jonesboro, Arkansas, and possibly writes a song: "I'd get my best ideas at 3:00 AM in Arkansas, and didn't have a co-writer around and I'd just finish it. And that would happen again in New York [likely Enchanted], that would happen again in Boston [likely Long Live], that would happen again in Nashville." (x)

May 23, 2009: Taylor records Half Of My Heart with John Mayer

On March 1, 2009: John Mayer tweeted: “Waking up to this song idea that won’t leave my head. 3 days straight now. That means it’s good enough to finish. It’s called Half of My Heart and I want to sing it with Taylor Swift. She would make a killer Stevie Nicks in contrast to my Tom Petty of a song.” On May 23, John Mayer tweeted "I couldn't get Taylor Swift on my record so I found the world's greatest impersonator, Laura Jacksheimer" with a picture of Taylor.

Superman: Spring 2009 (Speculation)

This could have been written any time in 2009, but due to it's general sound and the following quote, I’d guess it was written sometime in spring, when her and John Mayer first started working together. Taylor: “This was a guy that I was sort of enamored with, as usual. This song got its title by something that I just kinda said randomly in conversation. He walked out of the room, I looked over at one of my friends and said, ‘Man, It’s just like watching Superman fly away.’”

May 29, 2009: Posts on Myspace “Tomorrow, after the performance on the Today show, I’ll fly back to Nashville and record a lot of new songs I’ve written in the last few weeks. I’m really excited about that.” (She also posts "Tonight I went shopping at Top Shop in New York with the band. I got purple shoes. I’m really excited about the purple shoes, and I just needed to tell someone. I got purple shoes. Ok. That’s done." Which. If I had a nickel for everytime Taylor teased her new album by posting about shoe colors I'd have two nickels, which isnt a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.)

June 4, 2009: Posts on Facebook "In the studio. I don't know whose computer I'm using. Pssh.. Such a rebel right now.."

June 9, 2009: Tweets (about recording Thug Story) "If I said I was in the studio with T-Pain, would you believe me?"

Better Than Revenge and Let’s Go (Battle): June 2009 (Inferring)

These were probably written sometime between June 12, when the Jonas Brothers released “Much Better”, and July 1, when Taylor posted on Myspace: “What else is new.. Recording a bunch of new songs. Lots of new things to write about…..”

Last Kiss: 2009 (Unknown)

Taylor: "The song "Last Kiss" is sort of like a letter to somebody. You say all of these desperate, hopeless feelings that you have after a breakup. Going through a breakup you feel all of these different things. You feel anger, and you feel confusion, and frustration. Then there is the absolute sadness. The sadness of losing this person, losing all the memories, and the hopes you had for the future. There are times when you have this moment of truth where you just admit to yourself that you miss all these things. When I was in one of those moments I wrote this song."

July 22, 2009: Tweets "Hanging with my producer Nathan, discussing the next adventure" and then in a separate tweet "...album #3."

August 25, 2009: An interview with Nick Buda, Taylor's go-to drummer, is posted and he says: "Sitting here in Blackbird right now in the process of starting Taylor Swift's new record I guess. We've been here the last couple days and we're here today again." Throughout the interview, you can hear If This Was A Movie playing in the background. (Thank you to @taylor-on-your-dash for finding the interview!)

Never Grow Up: Fall 2009 (Speculation)

Lover Diary Nathan Chapman: "The song 'Never Grow Up' is just she singing and I on acoustic guitar. We recorded ourselves live. That song probably happened in two hours." This could’ve been written at any time in 2009, but I put it here because she bought her Nashville apartment sometime before October.

September 8, 2009: Tweeted "Last night in nash before heading out tomorrow for 4 shows, then VMA's. But right now I can't put the guitar down."

September 13, 2009: VMAs Incident

Enchanted: September 15, 2009 (Confirmed)

On September 15, Taylor attended an Owl City Concert in New York Taylor: "It was about this guy that I met in New York City, and I had talked to him on email or something before, but I had never met him. And meeting him, it was this overwhelming feeling of: I really hope that you're not in love with somebody. And the whole entire way home, I remember the glittery New York City buildings passing by, and then just sitting there thinking, am I ever going to talk to this person again? And that pining away for a romance that may never even happen, but all you have is this hope that it could, and the fear that it never will. I started writing that in the hotel room when I got back. Because it just was this positive, wistful feeling of: I hope you understand just how much I loved meeting you. I hope that you know that meeting you was not something that I took lightly, or just in passing. And I think my favorite part of that song is the part where, in the bridge, it goes to sort of a stream of consciousness of ‘Please don't be in love with someone else/Please don't have somebody waiting on you.' Because at that moment, that's exactly what my thoughts were. And it feels good to write exactly what your thoughts were in a certain moment.”

September 26, 2009: Taylor plays in Little Rock, Arkansas, and possibly writes a song: "I'd get my best ideas at 3:00 AM in Arkansas, and didn't have a co-writer around and I'd just finish it. And that would happen again in New York [Enchanted & Back To December], that would happen again in Boston [Long Live], that would happen again in Nashville." (x)

October 17, 2009: Tweets "Travis: you look so out of it. Me: I'm writing a song in my head. Travis: oh, I apologize. I didn't realize you were working."

November 19, 2009: Bob Lefsitz (the guy from Mean) publishes his impromptu interview with Taylor:

Taylor laughed. Said she could handle being criticized for having a bad voice, for missing notes. But she couldn’t live with being criticized for being inauthentic. Those songs are written in real time. About real people. Her cowriters edit more than contribute. Her next album she’s not planning to write with anyone. Not now, anyway.

November 30, 2009: Tweets "If I had a dime for every time my producer and I blurt out the same thing at the same time, followed by an awkward, uncoordinated high five..."

Ours: December 6, 2009 (Inferring)

Myspace Post on December 6: “I just got back to Nashville this morning after being in LA all week. Today I was out and about and in the studio all day” Taylor: "I wrote this when I was about to turn 20. I was in a relationship I knew people wouldn't approve of, and it was just a matter of time before everyone found out. When you're first getting to know someone, it's a fragile time, and then you add newspapers and magazine covers and it can get kind of rough. I wanted to have this song to play for him when it got difficult. Singing it for him was one of the sweetest moments I can remember."

December 22, 2009: Tweets "I was writing a song and my pen fell into the piano. Still trying to figure out if I should do anything about this."

January 2010: Starts polishing up the demos made in 2009 into fully produced tracks

Billboard: "Swift and Chapman had begun recording new songs almost as soon as "Fearless" was released. The two cut demos in his basement studio and would only take those songs to larger facilities once they felt they had an emotional foundation in the basic tracks. Still, it wasn’t until early 2010 when the album truly began to coalesce." Nathan Chapman: "We stripped it down and made the demos first. Taylor came to my studio and I played all the instruments on the demos, and because I have a good vocal booth, her demo vocals ended up being the vocals you hear on the record. After finishing the demos, we went out to different studios, and tried different combinations of engineers and musicians to replace some of the elements of my demos, mostly the programmed drums, and to do additional overdubs. [...] A pop artist would probably release what we'd done after five hours, but country artists don't want to hear programmed drums, they don't want to hear fake stuff. So once we had recorded the demos, we would book whatever studio we wanted for each song, to replace the drums, in many cases the bass, and to add whatever overdubs we envisioned, like fiddle, keyboards, percussion and strings. After we got the demos right, we opened it up and allowed ourselves to spend money and cut a big record." Taylor tweets on January 11: "Studio-ness with all the same boys who played on Fearless" and on January 13: "More recording. So excited. So excited. So excited. See, I said that three times. Once for every album we've made in this studio."

January 13, 2010: Posts on Myspace “Thank you January. I have had this month off. I have walked on snow-covered grass and discovered new coffee shops and laughed hysterically with friends about things that probably weren’t technically funny. I’ve written songs on napkins and sat at a giant table with my whole family on my mother’s birthday, all of us in one place for the first time in too long. I’ve gotten to take what has happened to me and process it to my full capability, and celebrate it the way it deserved to be celebrated. I’ve made new music. I’ve gone over the memories and jumped up and down with my producer and floated around with nothing on my schedule other than just appreciating what my life has somehow turned into. [...] Getting back in the studio with the same guys I trust and know and love.. (right, the pointing one: my producer Nathan Chapman) (Left, the waving one: Bass extraorinaire, Tim Marks. Clearly marked on his road case.) [...] Nick Buddha is in charge of the drums.”

February 13, 2010: Writes in her diary "I’ve been obsessing over the new album. I always do that until it’s just right. I don’t know if I have the formula just right for this one yet. I know there are great songs. I just need to figure out the strands that bond them together into a great album. And I will obsess until it’s there. This album, any album, is the next 2 years of my life. It has to be more than amazing. It has to be great enough to keep my attention for 2 years."

February 22, 2010: Posts on Myspace "I’ve been writing lots of songs"

Mine: March 10-12 2010 (Inferring)

Taylor (above interview, at 5:17): "I wrote Mine somewhere on the road, I think in Texas, actually." Nathan Chapman: "The demo for 'Mine' apparently took less than five hours to record, and sounded, according to Chapman, "almost identical to the record. After that we worked on the track for another four months, off and on, and spent $30,000 to make sure it sounded perfect in the real world."" Taylor: "This song is the first single because it has this…there was this moment between Nathan and I, my producer, when I brought this song in and when we made this demo in one day in his basement and we just kinda looked at each other and we were like, "This is it. This is the one. All of the times that I've had "The Moment" with songs of "This is the one," it's been a good call, so I'm hoping for the best on this one. Wish me luck." Scott Borchetta: "Mine" was a turning point in the album’s development. Swift and Chapman had begun recording new songs almost as soon as "Fearless" was released. The two cut demos in his basement studio and would only take those songs to larger facilities once they felt they had an emotional foundation in the basic tracks. Still, it wasn’t until early 2010 when the album truly began to coalesce. Swift presented "Mine" to Borchetta in his office [...] "We probably played that song four or five times," Borchetta recalls. "I’m jumping around playing air guitar, she’s singing the song back to me, and it was just one of those crazy, fun, Taylor teen-age moments."

March 13, 2010: Taylor records Mine, brings it to Scott Borchetta, and says she’s done with TS3

Scott Borchetta: "I said, ‘Keep going,’ [...] She kind of looked at me like, ‘You’re challenging me.’ And I said, ‘Yeah. You’ve found true north here. Keep going.’ " Taylor: “During Speak Now, when I went to (label head) Scott Borchetta and said, 'The album’s finished,’ he said, 'No, it’s not – you need to keep writing.’” (Right after playing in Texas, Taylor leaves for a vacation in the Bahamas, meaning Taylor likely had about a day in Nashville between the two trips).

Innocent: Late March 2010 (Inferring)

Billboard: “It was some time in the period after that challenge — between February and June — that Swift wrote “Innocent,” her response to the Kanye West incident.” Taylor: “Some songs take 30 minutes to write, and some take six months, which was the case with “Innocent.” When things affect me intensely and really hit me hard, it can take a while to figure out what I think about it and what to say about it.” (March would be just over 6 months since the VMAs).

March 24, 2010: Taylor goes lunch with Taylor Lautner and both of their publicists, inspiring Back To December.

Taylor: Swift says she based the song on a conversation she had with the guy about whom she's singing. "It's not loosely based," she says. "It's almost word-for-word. It is a song and a conversation that needed to happen, because I don't want to hurt people. If you unintentionally do so, you've got to make that better."

Speak Now: Early April, 2010 (Inferring)

On April 3, Taylor attended the wedding of Josh Farro as Hayley Williams (who is Josh's ex) plus one. That day she also tweeted: ""Nathan you smell really good! Is that a new cologne?" "Thanks! Actually it's a two in one shampoo and soap. From Dial." My producer rules." implying she was in the studio. The conversation below could have happened any day after the VMA awards in September, when Hayley first reached out to Taylor, but I think Taylor probably wrote the song fairly close to naming the album after it. Taylor: "This song was inspired by one of my friends who was telling me about her childhood sweetheart, crush guy. They were kind of together in high school and went their separate ways, and it was kind of understood that they were gonna get back together. Then, she one day comes in and tells me he's getting married. He had met this girl who was just this mean person who made him completely stop talking to all of his friends, cut off his family, had him like so completely isolated. And I just, kind of randomly, was like, "So, you gonna speak now?" She was like, "What do you mean?" And I was like "Oh, you know, like storm the church, speak now or forever hold your peace? I'll go with you. I'll play guitar. It would be great." She was just kind of laughing, and later on I just was wrapping my mind around that idea of how tragic it would be if someone you loved was marrying somebody else. Later I had a dream about one of my ex-boyfriends getting married, and it just all came together that I needed to write this song about interrupting a wedding. For me, I like to think of it as good versus evil, and this girl is so completely painted as the evil one. So this is "Speak Now.""

April 13, 2010: Names TS3 Speak Now

Lover Diaries: "So I’ve been obsessing over the new record to the point where it’s all I can focus on. I’m majorly stressed and borderline losing it, with all these lists and chronic dissatisfaction. Perfectionist-ness. I keep growing tired of songs because I know I’ve raised the bar and I can beat half the songs. Scott and I had lunch the other day. We were talking about the record and I had this epiphany. I didn’t talk in interviews about how I felt about much of what has happened in the last 2 years. I’ve been silent about so much that I’m saying on this album. It’s time to Speak Now. Scott freaked out. He loved it. We have a title, ladies and gentlemen!" Scott Borchetta: ""At one point, the record was not called ‘Speak Now.’ It was called ‘Enchanted,’ [...] We were at lunch, and she had played me a bunch of the new songs. I looked at her and I’m like, ‘Taylor, this record isn’t about fairy tales and high school anymore. That’s not where you’re at. I don’t think the record should be called "Enchanted."’” Swift excused herself from the table at that point. By the time she came back, she had the "Speak Now" title"

Dear John: Spring 2010 (Speculation)

This was likely written sometime after February 2010 (Taylor implies she's single in her vlog and her diary). Beyond that, it could have been anytime between February and June 2010.

Brief Interruption: The next two songs (Back to December and Mean) are going to use quotes from this interview that @1989worldtour found. If you've already listened to the interview attached to the Mine section, then it's the same interview

Back To December: Early May, 2010 (Inferring)

Taylor (above interview, at 5:12): "Back to December was written in New York City. Taylor was in New York city from May 3-5, and May 12-15 2010. she was not photographed in New York any other time in early 2010, and given her busy touring schedule, I doubt she was in New York at another time. USA TODAY: “Swift says she based the song on a conversation she had with the guy about whom she's singing. "It's not loosely based," she says. "It's almost word-for-word. It is a song and a conversation that needed to happen, because I don't want to hurt people. If you unintentionally do so, you've got to make that better."”

Mean: May 29, 2010 (Speculation)

Taylor (above interview, about 6 minutes in): "I started this song called Mean on my, like sitting on my kitchen counter, just playing it, and then, you know, took a plane and flew to the venue where we were gonna play that night and finished it in the dressing room." Now, this may be a too literal interpretation of "took a plane and flew to the venue where we were gonna play that night," but if we want to theorize: the only tour date (that Taylor could've conceivably written Mean during) without another show right before or after it was in Baton Rogue on May 29, 2010.

Long Live: June 2010 (Confirmed)

Lover Diary She likely wrote this around June 5, when she ended the Fearless Tour at Gillette Stadium (Wikipedia counts two festivals as being part of the Fearless Tour but Taylor doesn't, so I'm going with her opinion), since she said that she wrote a song for Speak Now in Boston (which is the closest major city to Gillette)

The Story Of Us: June 9-16, 2010 (Confirmed)

Taylor attended the CMT Awards (Which goes on to be the secret message for The Story Of Us) on June 9 and was sat very close to John Mayer. Taylor: "The people closest to me are used to me deserting a conversation and bolting into some corner of the room with my phone out, hunched over, singing some melody or lyric or hook into my phone. I wrote “The Story of Us” about running into an ex at an awards show, and I came home and sat down at a kitchen table and told my mom, “I felt like I was standing alone in a crowded room.” She tried to console me, but I was gone at that point." Lover Diary: "So I’ve been a little studio rat since the tour ended [...] Ever since, I wake up to my cell phone alarm around 9:30 each morning. Throw on a sundress, skip make up, tie my hair in a messy side braid, and head out the door with no shoes on. Because the only walking outside I’ll be doing is from my house to my car, then from my car, three steps to Nathan’s basement studio. [...] I worked on a song for a few days, then basically finished it in the car on the way to Nathan’s this morning. It. Is. So. Good. And I can safely say I am DONE writing this record!! This song is up-tempo, and hooky and sort of torn-sounding … like this horrible stressed confusion that comes on when you knew the person you’re pining away for is in the room. And for some reason, there are these invisible walls keeping things from being ok. So you’re not fine. And they’re not fine. And I’m so happy I wrote that song!! Footage of Taylor working on TSOU

June 30, 2010: Taylor tweets “@amosjheller is SLAYING a bass part in the studio right now. http://twitpic.com/21am7t”

Footage Nathan Chapman: “We tried several bassists until we had a bass part that worked, which was played by Amos Heller, of Taylor's live band. In Nashville, it's rare for a road musician to be on the record, but he earned his way into this record by kicking ass. In fact, all Taylor's road musicians played some parts on the album, which was important for me and her.”

July 15, 2010: The orchestra for Back To December and Haunted are recorded (footage here, same outfit as these candids)

Taylor (talking about Haunted): “I wanted the music and the orchestration to reflect the intensity of the emotion the song is about, so we recorded strings with Paul Buckmaster at Capitol Studios in Los Angeles. It was an amazing experience - recording this entire big, live string section that I think in the end really captured the intense, chaotic feeling of confusion I was looking for."

And that's all for this timeline! Check out my others:

TIMELINES: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights PLAYLISTS: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights • entire discography GENERAL: tag

#txt*#timeline*#taylor swift #if this deletes again i might actually delete my account #let me know if theres a typo or anything my eyes are glazing over

312 notes · View notes